#Just realized a couple of days ago that Hero still only has three fingers (plus the thumb) on each hand

[goosemagician]

Finally thinking about composing Hero and RGB's themes (And also Assok because they deserve it) for the Anti-Hero AU!

I'm also coming up with a piano duet for them ;) That way I can use it later for...emotion purposes

Reprises my beloved<3

[kaitsawamura]

would you like to stay forever?

SUMMARY⎮   Sparring with Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro in his private gym at his home doesn't seem like a bad idea if you don't count the fact that you really, really like him.

STATS⎮ minors do not interact, 18+ ⎮  Rating: M (for mature)  ⎮  WC: 5525  ⎮   Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader  ⎮   Tags: Aged Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, Sparring, Smut, Fluff, Age/Experience Gap (if you really squint)  ⎮  AO3

NOTES⎮  Thanks to @spacelabrathor​ for listening to me scream about this and to @some-kindofgnome​ for fueling my Kiri fever dreams.  Yes, that title is based on a Mulan quote. This whole fic was based on THIS POST and Kirishima seemed like the perfect character for this pwp.  Hope y'all enjoy!  (Also please for the love of God, click on the banner to see in HD if you’re on mobile, it looks so much better lol)

It was Saturday and even though you’re on your way to becoming a Pro Hero, you can think of several things you’d rather be doing with your one day off than going to Kirishima Eijiro’s house to spar.  But here you are pulling into his driveway, going over combat moves in your head as if your life depended on it.  They weren’t really serving their purpose which was to distract yourself.  Kiri had offered up his personal gym, encouraged you to stop by with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck as if he was nervous.  

A couple of his friends had already taken him up on the offer.  You were the only one he’d offered who hadn’t come over yet.  He had texted you a couple of weeks later saying he was starting to take it personally…  and then immediately texted with a laughing emoji just to clarify he was only giving you a hard time.  It brings a smile to your face now as you remember it.  Yesterday he had also clarified it would just be the two of you if you were self-conscious sparring in front of other people.  You’d have the whole place to yourselves.  Like that should mean something.  Which it did.  It does , you realize with butterflies growing in your stomach.  Kiri doesn’t need to know that though.

The two of you had been toeing around something since you had been hired at Fatgum’s Agency a year ago.  Neither of you had made a move.  Kirishima, the Red Riot, was a big Pro Hero and while you took pride in your quirk, it didn’t hold a coin to some of the others you’d come in contact with.  It had surprised you when Toyomitsu had brought you on.  But he had mumbled something about “liking your spunk” and that he thought a teleportation quirk would be a useful one to add to his agency.  The first day you had shown up, Kiri had immediately caught your eye.  Not for the obvious reasons.  Obvious reasons being the fact that he was climbing the Pro Hero charts or the fact that he had a dynamically interesting quirk or that at twenty-five he was already built like a brickhouse. 

Those were all valid reasons, yes, but what had pulled you in was his smile and his genuine interest in you outside of your quirk.  But he was just like that you had quickly discovered.  He knew everyone’s coffee order and what they liked for lunch.  He knew when to push and when to back off.  He knew when to talk and when to listen , knew when he still had a lesson to learn.  The kids flocked to him.  Even now you’re still entirely convinced that’s actually his quirk, getting people to like him.  It’s not a difficult thing to do though.

Your brain stutters back to the present when a text notification pings from your cell phone as you sit in Kiri’s driveway, picking at non-existent lint on your gym shorts.  The cute ones you’re still convincing yourself were your only clean pair and that’s the only reason you wore them.

KIRI : i saw u pull up, u gonna come in or what 😂

Had he been waiting for you to get there?  You tapped out a quick response, one that hid the little flip in your stomach at the thought: creeper, you were watching for me lmao

Response bubbles immediately flash on your phone screen but you’re angling out of your car and shutting the door before he can reply.

Somehow, this house fits Kiri perfectly.  It isn’t big.  You had seen pictures of other top-ranking Pros’ houses.  Enji Todoroki’s house, for example, was fucking ridiculous.  But even without a massive floor plan, Kiri’s house is nicer than any you’d been in for some time.  Clean, straight lines and lots of windows.  In fact, you can see straight through the floor-to-ceiling windows out to his backyard when you reach the front door.  Is that a pool ?  Kiri had tons of fun showing pictures at the agency; it was a well-deserved investment for his already multiple years of service as a Pro.  The pictures hadn’t done the place justice though.

Kiri comes to the door, throwing it wide open with a huge grin that shows off his sharp teeth.  You ignore the way your mouth goes dry as he drags you in, babbling on like an excited little kid at you actually coming.

“I really thought you were gonna back out!  I mean, that would have been fine, of course.  I just can’t see the point of having the whole place to myself all the time.”  He’s irresistibly cute, walking around showing you the living room and the kitchen and pointing out to the backyard where, yes, there is indeed a pool.  “You can come over any time and use that too if you want!”  You thank him, warmth pooling in your stomach at how incredibly nice he is.

“Uh, we should probably get in the gym.  I have… stuff to do later,” you finish lamely.  You don’t have anything to do later but very quickly you’re realizing how far out of your depth you are here.  The familiar beginnings of the head over heels fall is washing over you in steady waves.  But you’re coworkers and the thought of coming to work every day and having to see his adorable face and not doing anything about it is almost making you nauseous.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just down the hallway,” he rumbles, leading the way and you follow trying and failing miserably to calm the nerves flashing through your veins.  You’re here alone with Kiri , the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d started working with him a year ago.  And now your stupid brain isn’t just thinking about what it would feel like to run your tongue along his teeth or how his hands would feel between your legs.  No, your stupid brain is thinking about what Kiri looks like when he first opens his eyes in the morning.

Your one-track mind is not getting any help, especially when Kiri walks through the doorway of the gym addition and immediately proceeds to pull his shirt up and over his shoulders and tosses it to the side.  Shit.  His back muscles ripple with the movement and when he turns to face you, it’s heart-wrenchingly obvious that he has no idea the effect he’s having on you.  He has to know .  Doesn’t he?  From your end, it seems wildly obvious that someone as good-looking as him should know .  

You glance around, eternally grateful for the fact that the gym is also attractive.  Floor to ceiling windows span two of the walls here as well and there’s a large set of French doors leading out to the yard.  You find yourself actually in awe when you get a better look at the landscaping.  It’s so green .  There’s a small patch of lawn but the rest is just artfully arranged native flora and fauna.  Violets, tulips.  Huge hosta plants.  And cherry trees heavy with their signature sakura blossoms.  

“Kiri, it’s beautiful!”  He comes to stand beside you, looking out the French doors as well.

“You like it?  I guess it is pretty nice, huh?”  You glance up at him, your chest expanding on a lurch looking at his smile.  You’d never noticed before but he has a light dusting of freckles across his nose.

“Yeah, really nice.”  You look out again, letting the silence grow until it feels like the most comfortable thing in the world.  After what seems like an eternity Kiri clears his throat, rocking back on the balls of his feet.  “What are you thinking for today?”  The question leaves your lips and you’re immediately regretting it; your stomach flips again when Kiri looks at you like you’re prey.

“Close combat, hand-to-hand combat.  You did mention a while ago you wanted to strengthen that, right?”  You throw your head back, rolling your eyes, and groan.  The two of you make your way to the center of the mat.

“Yeah, I mean, I’d be scared to take me on too,” Kiri says, large hands on even larger hips.   He isn’t as tall as some of the other heroes at six foot three inches but he’s wide , thick.  You know for a fact you couldn’t wrap your arms around his waist and have your hands meet.  He’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen.  The sharpened points of his canines are out and on prominent display.   Famous last words you think as a snarl erupts on your face.

“I’m not scared , Kiri.  I just don’t want to wear you out .  You’re a Pro Hero.  You’re on the job a lot more than I am.  Plus, you’re getting kind of old.  Is that a little gray I see coming in?”  Kiri bares his teeth even more but it’s not lost on you that he quickly reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair.  There isn’t any gray, obviously , but the thought has Red Riot distracted.  Distracted enough that when you plant your feet and your fist connects with his face, your knuckles hit skin and not the reinforced rock of his quirk.

“ Shit.”  Kiri takes a step back, reaching up to cradle his jaw.  His tongue swipes out to lick at the blood on his bottom lip.  His vermillion eyes find yours and if you didn’t work with him on a regular basis, you would have felt fear at this moment.  You know he wouldn’t hurt you but even now, a thrill races through your veins like electricity.  He looks as if he’s going to devour you.  You take your own step back, readying your quirk, reaching out to it as your fists hold their position in front of your body.  A dark chuckle spills from his chest as Kiri calls on his own quirk.

Now it was your turn to be distracted; you had always been fascinated by Kiri’s quirk, the way his body looked when it hardened up.  The ripples of muscle still visible under the toughened skin.  The divots and ridges and how they mapped their way across his shoulders and chest and abdomen.  You knew how it felt to the touch in fake combat.  The Fatgum heroes all took pride in maintaining a healthy routine; sparring was a common workout that was previously done at a local public gym.  You wonder absently what it would feel like to touch him slow and at the moment.  When you could give extra attention with extra time. 

Kiri closes the space between the two of you at the moment your mind strays and you barely are able to teleport out of the way to avoid him crashing into you.  You try to take a swipe at him as you materialize from in front of him to behind but this time he’s ready for you and he’s using his quirk.  Instead of moving out of the way, he plants his feet and allows your punch to hit.  Pain radiates up through your fingers and wrist.  It always irritated you that you had to prepare yourself to strike Kiri when he was using his quirk.  Otherwise, you’d be in for a whole lot of hurt every time you landed a punch.

Teleportation is a pretty handy quirk.  It gives you a pretty good advantage the more you work on your close combat skills.  The trick with Kiri was to keep going at him until he ran out of energy.  You hadn’t gotten to that point yet; your quirk had its limits as well.  You were only two years out of UA, Kiri was out by seven.  His strength was already fairly unmatched; sparring with him was always good practice.  You relish the thought of the day you can win a sparring session without tapping out.  It surges through you like pure energy.  

You teleport to stand in front of him again, shifting your weight into your hips and up through your right hook.  This time your fist connects with Kiri’s side and he lets out a small grunt.  Your fingers don’t hurt so bad this time and by the time Kiri is retaliating, you jump back a few feet.  He hmms, a sound that reverberates from his chest.

“That’s all well and good but how do you expect to do anything if you jump that far away?”  He lunges forward at a running start, leaping at the last second, sending his gloved fist into your stomach.  You were fast, but still not always fast enough.  You double over, the air rushing from your lungs and your pre-workout protein smoothie threatening to exit back the way it went in.  Sweat is already beading on your brow and sliding under your tank top.  You take a few breaths through your nose when an idea pops into your head; you stay bent over.  “Hey, I didn’t hit you that hard.  You good?”  

Kiri comes to stand in front of you, leaving him vulnerable.  He can’t see your smirk until it’s too late.  You wail on him, using some of the basic combos he’s taught you before today.  Satisfaction rolls through you when he actually takes a step back.  But then he puts his arms up in front of him, clenching his abdomen and bending inward to protect his core.  He drops just a fraction and before you realize what’s happening, he’s swiping his leg out to push through yours.  You watch in slow motion as you see his laughing face then the ceiling of the gym as you flip and land on your back.

If you thought you were out of breath before…  “Fuuu-.”  It’s a wheeze that feels like it’s ripping your chest open.  You’re seeing stars.  Kiri stands over you, hands on his hips again.  You stare at his face; the hero has his hair pulled back into a bun.  You snort, rolling your eyes.  Why does he still look so fucking good?  The sweat has caused some of the pieces falling out of his hair tie to curl.  His hair has curl to it?  You’ve never noticed before, considering he always gels it into spikes.  You like the curl.  “Are you--are you gonna help me up, or what?”  It was still painful to talk.

Kiri tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and crosses his arms.  “I’m thinking not.  Last time I let down my guard you got those good combos in.”  You stare in stunned silence, sitting up so you’re supported by your elbows.  Kiri shifts slightly and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s backing up to… get a better view.   

“Is that any way to treat your student,  Red Riot?”  You know you get under his skin when he clicks his tongue against his teeth and holds out a hand with a begrudging eye roll.  He pulls you up with ease, quickly enough that you almost lose your balance, swaying into his space.  You look up, eyes moving back and forth between his.  

He draws in a breath and drags his bottom lip between his teeth.  “First of all,” he says as he places his hands on your upper arms, “I’m not your teacher.  I’m not that much older than you.  Secondly,” he mutters as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “our relationship isn’t that formal is it?”  He’s so fucking close.  This is getting dangerous.  Dangerous because Kiri is within kissing distance.  Dangerous because this gentle side of him is making you lose more breath than falling on your ass.  Dangerous because the thought of Kiri taking you on the floor right now is almost too much to bear.  

So you fall back on what you’re here to do.  Fight.  You flash him a wicked smile before rallying your quirk and teleporting a few feet away.  His hand is still raised in mid-air and when his head whips to look in your direction, his crimson eyes are narrowed and his nostrils are flared.  He laughs and rolls his neck, dancing on his toes.

“Okay.  I see.  I’m not gonna go easy on you, you know?”  You snort and put your fists up in front of you again.

“As if you were going easy on me before, Kiri.  Bring it on.”  He smiles, the sharp points of his teeth enough to make your thoughts swerve again before you bring them under control.  “Bring it on,” you whisper more to yourself as you brace for the fight.

Two hours later, you feel the strain in your muscles.  Your quirk is running low on reserves and you know you won’t be able to use it much more.  Kiri looks like he hasn’t wasted a breath but you can see he’s getting tired in the way his feet don’t move as sharply.  And if the length of time he’s using his quirk is any indication to his state of mind, you know the two of you will be calling it a day soon.  But you’re also both stubborn.  And you’re dying to get one more good move in on him.

The cockiness the two of you had at the beginning of the sparring session hasn’t gone away but has burned hot into determination.  No more smiles, only clear-headed concentration.  The two of you are an arm's length from each other, throwing various punches and switching quickly between using your quirks and not.  You’re breathing hard, sweat gathering at your brow as you throw another right hook that Kiri easily blocks.

“Get out of your head.  You can be too predictable sometimes.”  He doesn’t mean for it to come across as rude but the words strike a match to a guttering fire.  You bare your own teeth at Kiri even though they aren’t sharp and probably don’t look nearly as threatening but it helps you feel powerful nonetheless.  You drop without a second thought, lowering to your palms and sweeping your leg out in front of you in a wide arc.  A grin spreads across your face when your calf meets Kiri’s ankle.  He’s too physically dense for this move to work if he had seen it coming.  But he doesn’t.  And his solid 220 pounds of muscle falls hard.  

You allow yourself the satisfaction of the moment for only a split second; Kiri’s recovery time is much shorter than yours so it isn’t long before he’s scrambling forward.  He goes straight for your wrists to subdue you but with a smirk, you realize in his haste he’s put himself in the perfect position for you to possibly gain the upper hand.  You scoot up away from him just enough to drag his arm forward and swing your legs around his neck.  Then you elevate your hips and lock your core.

It’s over from there as you squeeze with every last ounce of strength left in your body.  It doesn’t take long for him to tap out.  You release as soon as you feel his loose hand tap your arm; he collapses over you and you’re too tired to move away or push him off.  Now his breathing is rough and you feel a surge of pride.  You reach up and place your hand on his head where his bun has come undone; he’s so heavy but it doesn’t feel bad.  In fact, the feel of Kirishima resting his head and upper chest on your stomach is feeling nothing short of good .  He’s still between your legs and suddenly the air is crackling with a new kind of energy when you gently comb your fingers through his hair.

He rises up, his hands on either side of you.  His hips rest between your legs; the mingled heat radiating from both of you is almost more than you can take but there is no way you’re going to move anywhere.  He leans forward, so close you can see the flecks of burnt orange in his eyes.  If you moved forward just a little, you could close that space between you.  He leans down more, his mouth right next to the shell of your ear.

“Maybe not always predictable.  You did good today.  Probably some of the best fighting I’ve seen from you so far.  Keep it up.”  He grunts, a shift of his hips allowing the curve of his cock to brush against your clothed sex through his gym shorts.  He stiffens in what you think might be embarrassment.  “Shit, sorry, let me just, uh--”  The stuttering mess he becomes right before your eyes makes something lurch in your chest; you reach for his face without thinking.

“Kiri,” you whisper, rolling your own hips against his.  His cheeks are burning a shade of red almost as vibrant as his hair.  You bring up your other hand, holding his face between them and bringing him down to settle over you once more.  Your lips meet his; he seems to war with himself for just a moment.  A suspended second in time.  But then he gives in, slipping his tongue against yours in a delicious sliding vision of what’s coming.

He reaches between you to slip his hand under your tank top; his hand is big and nearly encompasses your side.  But it’s warm and gentle.  Gentle.  Who would have guessed that Red Riot could be so fucking gentle?  But he is and when his hand moves lower to slide below the hem of your shorts, you give yourself to him with no reservations.  His middle finger passes through the mess of your sex; a hissed breath rattles through his chest as your back arches on a ragged groan.

“ Shit.  You’re so wet .”  He slides his finger back and forth, gathering your slick on the thick digit.  He takes his hand away and you mewl.  “Can I?”  He asks breathlessly as he hooks his hands on the hem of your shorts.  You nod, eyes half-lidded.  He pulls them down along with your underwear and the way he looks at you, at what’s between your legs, you don’t even have the wherewithal to feel self-conscious.  Adoration.  It’s the only word you can think of and it makes you wonder if you’d made a mistake waiting so long.

He’s on his knees when he takes your legs and drapes them on either side of his hips; this time he doesn’t hesitate in slipping his finger into your cunt.  You nearly see stars just from that and if one finger is any indication, you’re in for it.  Slowly, he adds another, his hand pumping into you in a steady rhythm.  You’re grabbing for the ground, grabbing for him as a strangled noise pushes from your throat.  He reaches out with his other hand to splay it across your sternum and it’s the only thing anchoring you as he adds the third finger before scooting down to put his mouth on your clit.

“ Kiri,” you keen, shoving your hips into his touch, frantically scrabbling for his wrist that’s on your chest just to have something to hold on to.  He’s done this before, he’s had to.  He’s too good.  Too fucking good.  Already there’s coiling in your gut as incomprehensible words tumble from your mouth.  “Shit.  Shit.  Kiri I’m--I’m gonna--”  He rumbles approvingly against your clit; the vibrations send you closer and closer to the edge and when it crests, your back arches near pain as you cry out, your voice echoing in the gym.  It’s deep, roaring through all of your limbs but  Kiri keeps going, fingers still pumping, tongue still swirling around your sensitive nub.

Another orgasm breaks over you sharp and quick and the overstimulation has your legs quaking as your arousal gushes over Kiri’s hand and tongue.  But then he’s moving again, and you’re blearily aware that he’s shoving his own shorts and boxers past his hips to free his cock.  You stare as it bounces back to sit near the planes of his stomach; it’s already leaking steadily with precum.  Kiri looks back at you and when your eyes meet, you dart your tongue out between your lips to wet them.  Another time, maybe.  

Kiri leans forward to lift you up and the closer you get you can barely see any red in his eyes; his pupils are blown, his nostrils flared as he lifts you like you weigh nothing .  He could snap you like a twig.  But he won’t.  You know without a doubt this is the safest you’ve ever felt, even as he lowers you slowly over his cock and it does feel like you’re being split .

“ Fuuuck…”  You wrap your legs around him, your mouth dropped open, your hands gripping his shoulders.  You try not to dig your nails in but it’s almost impossible with how you’re being filled.  You knew Kiri was big but this was almost too much.  His forehead drops to yours as he pants.  But he’s not moving, won’t move until you tell him to.  It makes your heart ache and your cunt floods, drunk on the affection thrumming through your veins.  You roll your hips experimentally and the friction is bliss.  “Oh fuck, ohfuck.”  You move again, pushing yourself up and back down, listening to the hitch in his breathing.  “ Kiri, please, ” you whisper.  Those words… they’re enough.

Kirishima grips you by the hips, his fingers splayed and digging into the flesh; it’ll leave bruises and the knowledge cracks through you like electricity.  Let him leave marks.  Let him leave them everywhere.  He’s moving you up and down his cock, grunting, mumbling.  “Tell me, Kiri, tell me.”  His eyes meet yours again and his own mouth drops open.

“Fuck, you’re so good.  S’ tight.  Jesus, I-- ” Kiri moves his hands from your hips to support you as he lays you down on the floor of the gym.  The idea should be questionable but it’s not, it’s fucking not and you can’t concentrate on any other thoughts when Kiri grabs your wrists and pins them gently above your head with one hand while the other comes back to your hip.  He thrusts into you at a brutal pace but… it feels like home and you think in that moment as your cunt begins to seize around his cock that you would give up forever to continue touching him.

“Yes, Kiri, yes.  Right there, right--shit yesyes yes. ”  He pistons up, the veins of his cock rubbing just right and when he releases the grip on your hands, they’re moving to wrap around him on instinct.  He’s planting kisses along your jaw, mouthing up to your lips and back down to graze his teeth over your pulse point.  “Do it, fuckin’ do it, let them know ‘m yours, ” you slur and when he bites down you crash over the edge on a groan that’s really more of a scream.  Everything goes black but you're cradling him to you as his movements become more erratic.  The snapping of his hips is getting sloppier by the second and a steady growl punches from his lungs with each breath.  “Cum, Kirishima, cum inside me.”

He’s never heard those words before and it lights a fire in his veins.  His head is buzzing and then he can’t hear anything as his cock releases and he’s spurting searing hot ropes of cum into your cunt.  He goes until you’ve milked every last drop from him and he’d be lying if he said his world didn't suddenly feel whole.  Finally, his body settles and his chest drops to yours.  Everything slowly bleeds back into focus and somehow, everything seems more colorful than it did moments before.  You’re still clinging to him.

“Kiri.  Kiri, babe, I can’t breathe,” you say and he slowly rises, taking in your blissed-out expression.  Your eyes can barely stay open, your cheeks are flushed.  He backs up to see his handiwork on display, hyper-focused on the trail of the mingling cum dripping from the mess of your sex.  But you’re smiling.  Lazy and tired, completely at ease.  “Wanna take a shower?”  When you nod he doesn’t hesitate in standing to kick his underwear and shorts the rest of the way off his legs and then he’s grabbing you, scooping you into his arms and against his chest.  He pads out of the gym and across the hall to his bathroom where he deposits you on your feet, only after he’s sure you can stand and only long enough to turn the shower head-on.

He puts his hand under the water, waiting for it to get warm.  Steam billows from behind the glass door when he’s turning back to you to remove your tank top and your sports bra.  Thank god you chose the front-closure one today; you didn’t think either one of you wanted to struggle to get one up over your head right now.  When your breasts spill out of the high-impact fabric, you notice with tender amusement that his cock is half-hard again.  His eyes go dark again and he leans in for a kiss.  But it's slow and sweet. 

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," he whispers.  He ignores his arousal, ushering you into the stream of water.  Your care is the only thing that matters to him right now.  The heat slides across your body, and when Kirishima steps up behind you and begins soaping up your shoulders, it feels like heaven .

You take turns washing each other until you’re both blissed out in a different kind of way and the only thing either one of you can think about is sleep.  But the afterglow is fading and doubt is creeping in.  When you step out of the water, you stand awkwardly as Kiri hands you a towel.  “You okay?”  He’s actually concerned and you can’t put your finger on why you’re so fucking grateful for it.

“Yea, just tired.  I should, uh, probably get going.”  Kiri freezes and you think you’ve said something wrong, already crossed a line.  Your brain is like a broken record as the stomach-curdling image of having to see him at the agency flashes across your eyes in vivid detail.  But then he’s stepping into your space and pulling you in for a hug.  A hug.

“Don’t go,” he whispers into the crown of your head and it has you smiling like an idiot against his chest.  His skin smells clean and warm with a hint of spice.  You bury your face further in as you nod against him.  Then he’s leading you to his room, to the king-sized bed.  He peels back the comforter and the white sheets and pulls you in beside him.  Your back is against him and he hooks his foot around your ankles, bringing you even closer.  

He doesn’t say anything more, just lets out a huge sigh as he wraps his arm around you.  The last thing you notice before your eyes flutter shut is how your heartbeats are thumping at the same steady rhythm.  

Late afternoon sunlight slants in Kirishima’s bedroom window, creating interesting patterns across his blanket.  It’s pushed towards the end of the bed, your legs intertwined and tangled in the sheets.  He’s still dozing, his breathing not quite that of someone sleeping but not of a person fully awake.  You reach out to cup his cheek, stroke above his eyebrows, caress his lips with your thumb.  A contented sigh leaves his chest as he grabs your hand and kisses your wrist.  His eyes are open now and he watches you.  You smile at him, snuggling closer, not wanting the moment to end.

“Hey,” he says quietly, suddenly serious.  “I just want you to know, I don’t do this all the time.  I mean, I’ve been with other people before but I don’t…  I don’t really hook up .”  Things start clicking into place as you realize what he’s trying to get across.  He just fucked you stupid in his personal gym and somehow he looks bashful.  And because you love it, you’re not going to help him along.  You just watch, biting your lip to keep from giggling.  “I just.  I guess what I’m trying to say is I like you.  I’ve liked you for a long time.  And normally I would have wined and dined you first but...  Well.  Here we are.  Would you like to stay for dinner?”

That’s the last straw; your laughter comes bubbling out of you and Kiri is leaning back to look at you with a quizzical expression on his face.  “Is something funny?”  That just makes you laugh a little harder but the confused look he’s wearing has you leaning in to press your lips against his.

“I’ve liked you from the first day I met you, Kiri.  I’ll one-up your offer and tell you that I might like to stay forever.”  A grin rips across his face and your heart blooms with warmth and affection.  The world seems full of possibilities but none of them matter except for the possibility laying right in front of you.

[pumpkinpot]

Can I get an aizawa x reader where he has a thigh kink, like as he goes down on her he wants to basically be crush by them and also thigh fucking😶

OH MY GODS hello! Thank you for being my first request. I can absolutely do that. I have to admit, though I adore Aizawa, I've never wrote for him so.... I'm sorry if its not fantastic the first couple rounds. Also, I did not get a proof reader just wrote it and left.

Jesus this ended up being longer than intended lol. Its also very him oriented. the reader is not played with as much in this one

TW: Sex. sub!Aizawa themes. Thigh asphyxiation kink. (breath play.)

Word out 1.3k

*

*

His day was shit. No other way to put it. From children not cooperating to his higher ups demand he "control his students better," he had two goals. Go home and go the fuck to bed. But when he opened the door to his empty apartment the silence threatened to drown him.

You'd expressed many times that your home was open to him and that you'd even like to see him more when you he had time or energy. To solidify this you'd slipped him a key, that had remained untouched on his bedside table ever since.

It wasn't that he didn't want to use it more than anything he craved you but, it was a genuine case of time. you lived across town and it was hard to get away from work when he quite literally lived at his job. Plus, though he wouldn't admit it, he was afraid of boring you. Whenever he did have a second to himself it was often stolen by ungraded papers or a much needed coffee break.

You didn't deserve him to come over and work at your dining room table.

He stays at his place only long enough to swipe the key from the table and grab a snack bag. (a snack offering for you taking in his stray ass.)

*

You'd gotten the text, "can I come over?" thirty minutes ago and replied a bit too quickly for your liking. "yes, please."

You didn't intend to sound so needy but aside from the morning texts and occasional calls it had become nearly impossible to see each other recently.

A knock came to the front door, followed by a clink of his key in the lock. You tried to act as nonchalant as you could, laying on your sofa, flipping through a random book.

His fingers spread throughout your hair, scratching bit behind your ear. you were nearly positive that his is how he scratches his cats but shit, if this is the treatment they got from him on a regular basic get you some cat ears and a tail.

"Hey baby," you say lacing your fingers through his and planting a kiss on his wrist.

He responds with a kiss of his own, tapping your leg. You open to him as he nestles himself between your thighs.

"Long day?" you ask, pinning a stand of loose hair behind his ear. you practically feel the tension shimmy from his bones as he melts into you.

"Hmhm," is all he says. Your thighs are bare the only part of you covered by a pair of kitten printed panties and one of his tee shirts he'd left for you. "thank you for letting me come over."

It wasn't a favor. You needed this as much as he did, but that was going to stay behind closed lips for now. "Of course my love."

Pulling your right thigh over his shoulder, he closed his eyes, burring himself deeper into your touch.

He taps a finger on the curve of your hips so you lift your butt, his hands sliding across the swell of your ass before you melt back down.

Massaging lightly where your thigh meets the curve of your butt, your hips lazily grind against his chest in a slow row.

The act, though as innocent as it might have began is steadily heats a need in him.

A pang of guilt cools him down like ice. This wasn't why he came here. He didn't come to get off and not see you again for a month, but fuck the way he fit between your legs had his mind wandering to what it might feel like to-

The thought is cut by the long intentional grid you give this time your hand never leaving the base of his hair.

where you-

"what are you reading?" He fishes, looking up at your distracted gaze.

You'd reread the same sentence at least a dozen time trying to distract yourself from a need growing in your belly. He didn't come here to be used as a sex toy. It was the first time he'd used your key and the last thing you wanted was to make him thing that' s all you wanted. Plus, He's probably tired. "Nothing important."

Shota takes the vague answer as a slight invitation to distract you, as much as you'll allow him.

the pads of his fingers dig grooves into your ass as he gives one, two, three kisses to the tops of your thigh, working his way down your hip.

The leg still over his shoulder flexes instinctually and you feel the heat break.

He pulls your other thigh up, wrapping his hand just below your knees. you give a playful squeeze. He squeeze's with you, a silent plea for more pressure. You give a half flex, his breath hitching.

A long sigh follows before his eyes find yours. He passes a glance between you and your discarded book a smile dancing along his lips. "you ready to give me attention?"

You opt out of giving an answer, instead, pulling your heels together behind him and giving another halfhearted grip. He sucks in a breath ready for the asphyxiation, but you release too soon and the air gets caught in his throat.

"oh, you," he bites down on the thick of your thigh, "little tease."

You smile a wicked thing his want to be viced between your legs evident by his needy fingers digging into your skin and heavy breathing, waiting for any moment for you to take the air away from him.

"Feeling needy baby?" you say, brushing hair from his forehead. you hug your thighs together only to readjust your seated position.

He pants again, eyes betrayed by your lack of follow through to end his shit via your thighs.

"I-I," he starts, but you break the sentence with a full engagement of your leg muscles, his mouth falling open into a pleading O.

you release after a few seconds. "Show me." you demand.

He unclenches his left hand, tapping on your thigh. A tell tell sign he needs a release for air.

"You do want more?" you ask.

He nods, leaving kisses down your thighs. "yes."

"yes what?"

"Yes, please."

Shota pulls his knees under his planting on all fours. with your permission he unzips himself starting off slowly against his shaft, with a loose grip.

Due to his hero costume Shota had to get used to slight asphyxiation pretty early on, but he can nearly picture the exact moment he realized he liked it, and believe it or not, It had nothing to do with scarf. It looked a lot like right now actually. He was actively being chocked out be a villain's thighs during a rouge patrol night and though it wasn't the best of circumstances he had been looking for a safe way to experiment with this feeling ever since. That's when he found you.

Propped on either side of his head the gradual intensity of your muscles vising him as him gripping himself harder. He allows his tongue to lull out, saliva dripping down your leg and pooling on your panties.

you feel the shake of his hand pumping faster and faster, his release nearing. As you feel his movements begin to stutter you flex one last time before releasing your hold.

His vision blurs at the corners as the rush of his orgasm tears through him followed by air in his lungs. his fingers tingle the cum seeping from his feeling like a jot of light energy forcing him to slightly buck his hips.

He decorates the back of your legs, coming up onto his knees to pump through the crease in your thighs, riding out the high.

He doesn't mean to hold his breath and doesn't realize he's doing so until you pull him down to you and whisper, "breath," into his ear.

He releases a shaky breath hand massaging the back of your thigh and he kneads the cum over your skin.

"I-," he breaths into your neck. "I want more."

you pull your legs around his hip, pushing his cock to rub against your saliva soaked panties.

"Then take more baby."

[monaisme]

One Week Later - Chapter One

This is the sequel to my one-shot, “The Battle”

He had drifted in and out of the consciousness for the first five days-- which he guessed, after the fact, had been a blessing.

His transformation, which had taken three days the first time 'round, still hadn't quite finished seven days later.

He was trying to be patient but, well, it would’ve been nice to sleep all the way through to the end. It seemed he was destined to suffer fits and jags of pain and spontaneous naps to recover from them. It hurt... and it sucked.

Dr. Cho couldn't be 100% certain as she hadn't been around after the bite, but she'd felt safe in assuming that the prolonged change had to do with all of Peter's injuries from both Titan all those years ago and the battle in Upstate New York. The concussion had been pretty significant, according to the doctor. Multiple scans had been taken to keep track of that healing, seeing as he'd been so out of it from the worst of the fever. The broken ribs still had a ways to go towards knitting back together but he could inhale just a little deeper before it hurt so that was a win. And there was no need for stitches for the deeper stab wounds—Mr. Stark’s nanoparticles were taking care of that. The dislocated shoulder, however, still required surgery.

Correction. Another surgery. Peter looked up at the clock on the wall... in about thirty minutes.

Arthroscopic surgery had apparently been performed on the second day after the battle, once all of the other wounded had been tended to, not that Peter remembered much from those first five days. Tendons and cartilage had been damaged to the point that Dr. Cho was certain it needed intervention so she'd done her medical magic per Spider-Man protocols, being as non-invasive as possible, knowing that Peter's body could do the rest-- except that it hadn't.

It had been quite the gong show, in fact—his fever had spiked along with his blood pressure and all sorts of bad things had Dr. Cho plus Mr. Stark and all the rest worried out of their minds.

... but he was definitely on the mend now.

Really.

Peter fussed at his hospital gown nervously and  wondered, not for the first time, if maybe he still had some dust stuck somewhere in him-- gumming up the works like Uncle Ben used to say when their old '97 Pontiac Firefly would stall again and again and again-- or something like that. He couldn't be sure, but yeah, he was definitely curious about it.

"Knock, knock!" The rapping of knuckles against the door frame pulled Peter from his commiserating. "Guess what surprise the most super-amazing best mentor on the planet got for his currently boo-booed Spider-mentee?" Mr. Stark grinned big and slid into the med bay room.

Peter tried to think of something he’d wanted, then brightened immediately as hope flared. He looked to the man and then at the doorway Mr. Stark had just vacated. "Is May here?!" He asked eagerly. He repressed the flinch of pain as he struggled to sit up in the bed. "Did Dr. Strange finally get May here? May?!" He called out.

Peter was too busy trying to look around Mr. Stark to notice the look of regret flashing across his face before he could school it into something more sympathetic. “I’m sorry, kid.” He stepped up to the bed and moved to help Peter lay back down. “I should have been more thoughtful.“ He pulled the blankets back up to the boy’s neck and tucked him in tight. “One of the wizards was willing to make a pit stop and grabbed you a sandwich from Delmar’s before coming back to Wakanda. It came back hot so I’ve got it hiding away in one of the kitchen’s fancy stasis units and is ready for you as soon as you get the all clear from Dr. Cho to eat after they take care of...” Mr. Stark waved toward Peter’s shoulder, “that.”

Peter flushed with embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, I just thought that...” He trailed off, and sighed. “It’s not that I’m not grateful, Mr. Stark, I promise! It’s just that everyone else has family being brought over and I’m sure that everyone is really busy, I only hoped that...” His eyes glistened with tears he was trying so hard to not let fall. He used his arm to brush the wetness away. “I’m just being a baby. Sorry.”

He had tried to tamp down the jealousy he’d felt when Mr. Barton had popped by to introduce himself properly and had gushed about how amazing it was to see his wife and kids after the last five years—not that he could wrap his brain around that bit of information yet, but still—

Where was May?

Mr. Stark interrupted his wandering thoughts with the brushing of his hand against Peter’s cheek. “You’re not being a baby, so stop talking that way. You’re allowed to miss her, and once this is all over and you get the all clear to leave the med bay, we’ll get you to our temporary quarters so you can have a good, long video call with her, okay?” Mr. Stark moved to run his fingers through Peter’s hair, then leaned forward, “Don’t tell anyone I said this,” He whispered conspiratorially, “But the tech here is incredible. When everything is settled, we may need to set up a play date between you and Shuri.” He gave a wink and straightened up as he noticed one of the nurses enter the room with a rolling cart full of medical supplies.

The nurse smiled kindly at the two heroes and then focused on Peter. “I’m glad that you’re awake. Dr. Cho has asked me to get final prep out of the way.” She snapped on a pair of gloves and starting pulling out supplies for an IV. “She’d prefer a new line so we can keep you on the IV nutrients during the procedure,” She assessed his still slinged arm, then moved down the bed to uncover his leg. “I think we’ll do a little reorganizing so we can just get this done quickly and be off. The surgical suite is ready for you, so if you’re good, we can get this show on the road and get you on the mend.”

Peter blanched and looked to Mr. Stark with sheer terror on his face. Being unconscious and having surgery was easy, this was a whole other kettle of fish. “Um...” He struggled to not panic. “Mr. Stark?” His breathing started to pick up.

Both the nurse and Mr. Stark picked up on the cues right away. Mr. Stark grabbed the boy’s good hand in support and gave the nurse a quick look. She backed out of the room without another word and closed the door behind her.

“Hey, hey, kiddo. You’re okay,” Mr. Stark soothed. “Why don’t you take a deep breath me, yeah?” He pulled in an exaggerated breath. “In...” and then blew it out with just as much effort. “... and out.”

Peter tried, then flinched, grunted, and then shifted to try and relieve the pain that flared in his ribs even as his anxiety ramped up and he struggled to catch his breath.

“Oh, shit! Sorry, sweetheart. Sorry!” His hands fluttered around Peter, trying to find something to fix. Mr. Stark looked to be on the edge of his own panic attack but Peter could do nothing. Then Mr. Stark lit up as he apparently came up with another idea. “Okay, kid, this is gonna seem weird, but let’s keep those breaths quick and short, okay?” And then the man was demonstrating, “He-he-he-he-hooo. He-he-he-he-hooo.” Mr. Stark squeezed Peter’s hand in assurance.

Peter tried to emulate him, and after a couple of minutes of lost rhythms and wiped away tears, Peter was calm enough that he felt safe speaking again, “Sorry, Mr. Stark, I...” He dried he cheeks again, “I don’t know where that came from. “It’s not like this is the first time I’ve had to have something fixed and all... I just...”

Mr. Stark smiled down fondly at the boy, “Maybe not, but you’re far from home and your hot aunt isn’t down the hall waiting to chew you out for doing something stupid enough to require surgery—and honestly, we’ve had a pretty shitty week, if you don’t mind my saying. I mean, I’ll be forever grateful that you’re back,” and Mr. Stark leaned over to plant a big ol’ kiss on Peter’s forehead as he said it, “but we fought a literal battle over my demolished compound, you were gone for five years, you were hurt, your powers are out of whack, you are currently situated on a different continent altogether, and the world doesn’t seem to remember that we deserve a little down time after battling for the fate of half a universe.” He ran his fingers through Peter’s hair. “We’re allowed to be stressed, and if it comes out in a pre-surgery freak-out, then so be it.”

Peter chuckled, being mindful of his ribs. “Yeah, I guess. And—um, thanks, by the way for the, uh... the breathing thing.” He was confused though, “Can I ask a dumb question? Was that a breathing exercise for women in labor?”

A blush tinged Mr. Stark’s cheeks and he rubbed at the back of his neck in apparent discomfort. “Yeah, Pete, it is, but it worked so no teasin’ the old man about it, got it?!” He pointed a finger at the boy in the bed. “You were hurting and I couldn’t think of anything to help with the broken ribs and all. Short breaths made sense and it just came to me.” He laughed low to himself, “I think it was pretty ingenious, if you ask me.”

Peter blushed, himself. “I guess it was. I’m curious to know how you’d know—“

A knock on the door interrupted his question. “Hello?” Dr. Cho opened the door and peeked her head into the room. “I’m sorry for intruding, but we’ve only got the surgical suite and staff for an allotted period of time and...“ She trailed off.

Mr. Stark looked at Peter, cocking an eyebrow in question.

Peter hesitated, then nodded ‘yes.’

Mr. Stark smiled at him then gave his still gripped hand another assuring squeeze. “He’s good to go, Helen.” He finally looked towards the doctor. “But you’ve got to hurry this up. The kid has a date with the #5—extra pickles and squished really flat, and we’d like to get that to him before someone in the kitchen realizes we’re hiding the best sandwich in Queens and absconds with it.” 

Peter snort-laughed then closed his eyes to the nurse as she re-entered the room to do her prep. He didn’t want to be rude, he just couldn’t...

Ah, shit! He knew it was coming before it hit, and then—

She waited patiently for him as the pain zinged up his spine, causing him to arch off the bed and whimper as he waited for the episode to pass. She simply stepped away from the bed so Mr. Stark could come close enough to whisper words of encouragement.

“You’ve got this, kid.”

“It’s gonna pass.”

“I’m so, so sorry...”

This episode lasted only a few minutes, but it left Peter exhausted, like always. After taking a second to pull himself together, he gave the nurse the go ahead with a nod and closed his eyes again—trying to ignore the sounds of movement and the poking and prodding at his foot.

“A little pinch.” The nurse whispered, and then there was more than a little pinch, but the second line was in. “Good job.” On what, he didn’t know, but it was done and Peter worked to keep himself from jumping off the table.

Dr. Cho came to his bedside again, “Well, Peter, I’m hoping that we can get everything sorted this last time and give your transformation a chance to finish the job without having to worry about all of this extra work.” She winked playfully at him. “And then I can start doing my regular job of putting you back together with all of the standard superhero stuff. Does that sound like a plan to you?”

He understood that she was trying to put him at ease, and it would have worked, but something was niggling at the back of his brain and he couldn’t understand what was going on. He ignored it. “Sure. Let’s do this,” he replied.

Giving a nod to the nurse on his opposite side, Dr. Cho released the break on his bed and they started moving him toward the door.

“Wait!” Peter shouted in renewed panic. “Mr. Stark?!”

He popped back into view, having kept out of the way as he was sorted. “I’m here, baby. You’re safe.” He bumped the nurse out of the way and took her place as they moved down the hallway.

He tried to look brave, but—“Could you...?”

Mr. Stark didn’t look to anyone for permission. He just answered. “I’ll go with you as far as I can, okay?”

Peter could have cried from relief, but remained strong as he nodded. “Okay. Yeah, okay.” He blinked away the moisture in his eyes and exhaled, “Uh, thanks.”

Mr. Stark ruffled his hair. “You never have to thank me, sweetheart. Do you understand?”

Peter smiled, tentative, “I guess?”

Mr. Stark huffed in frustration. “You guess? We’ll need to have a chat over that sandwich later, okay?”

By this point, they’d managed to find their way to the surgical suite. They parked the bed and Dr. Cho disappeared inside the room for a second.

Peter was about to ask if maybe she’d changed her mind about everything when she popped back out and tossed a surgical cap, mask, and gown at Mr. Stark. “Put that on, and then touch nothing, but Peter once we’re in. If you behave, you can stay with him until he’s asleep, okay?”

Mr. Stark nodded and immediately put on the gown while Dr. Cho entered the room again. He hesitated with the cap though. “No one appreciates the effort I make to look this good,” he complained. “Seriously.” He shook his head and looked down at Peter as he placed the mask on his face. “The things I do for you, kid.”  

Peter grinned at that, and for a moment he could imagine they were back in the lab at the compound and it was just the two of them being idiots while blowing crap up. “You do it because you love me,” he teased.

If they’d been back at the lab, Mr. Stark would have made a crack about doing this to keep Peter from turning to the dark side, or from working for the competition, or anything other than what he’d really said—“Yeah, kid. I really do.”

And THAT was the moment Peter realized that something had shifted in the five years. He’d heard the ‘sweetheart’ and maybe even the ‘baby’ but...

Another nurse came out of the room to address them. “Okay, we’re going in now. Once we enter the room, we’ll transfer you to a different gurney and tuck this bed away for you to use later. The room is sterile and will remain that way if everyone does what they’re supposed to do.” The nurse looked directly at Mr. Stark. “I am to remind you, sir, that you can ask Princess Shuri about the tech and sterilization methods later and that—and this is a quote from Dr. Cho—“you’d better be good, Tony, or you will be out on your ass faster than you can say ‘nanoparticle.’”

Mr. Stark barked a laugh at that and raised his right hand. “I promise I will be a good boy.”

The nurse seemed to believe him so they worked together to pull the bed through the doors and into the chill of the surgical suite. Peter would have been impressed if he wasn’t suddenly terrified.

Peter couldn’t suppress the shiver as he felt the cold press in on him and he thought again about running away—somewhere warm and vibrant and Mr. Stark could come and then—he was being transferred to a metal table, just as cold as the room.

Mr. Stark came into view again, and was again running fingers through his hair in comfort. His heart was in his throat and he couldn’t speak.

“You’ll feel a little chill here, Peter,” Dr. Cho was talking to him as someone off to the side started injecting an anaesthetic into the IV line.  

He felt it as it entered his system, the mix of standard and enhanced drugs because his body didn’t know what the heck it was doing anymore, and then whatever bits of Spider-Man that were fighting to come through did exactly that. Even as his thoughts tried to soften, he battled and ached to come back from the nothingness that was trying to catch hold of him again. His eyes flew open. He couldn’t go again! His drug weakened limbs felt weighted but still fought against gentle hands pressing him to the table, yet he tensed with anticipation of them flaking and floating off into the aether—“NO!” He couldn’t do it again, and his panic flared one last time as the anaesthetist gave one last push. “stop—“ he slurred. “don’—wanna go, ms’r star—“ Tears streamed down his temples and he finally gave up as he whispered, “’m—‘m sorry—“ 

Peter fell limp against the table—

And didn’t see Mr. Stark, as he stood over him, tried to comfort him—wept for him.

Peter also didn’t see the glare on Mr. Stark’s tear stained face as he looked at a paled Dr. Cho. “You get in. You fix it. You get out. Got it?”

Peter didn’t see her nod in agreement and start barking out orders to the medical staff in the room.

And Peter didn’t see Mr. Stark lean over to kiss his forehead and then step back into a quiet corner, deciding to not leave the boy’s side unless they dragged him forcibly from the room.

[veiledpeaches]

chance encounters | part iv: what it took to understand

Summary: Between pages of meddling friends and societal expectations, all she actually wants is to find a happily ever after with Doyoung, even if it feels like that is no longer possible.

part i x part ii x part iii x part iv x part v x part vi

word count: 5.2k

GIF originally posted by @lukhei​

“Wait Mom, what do you mean you’re not coming? Aren’t you flying in on Friday?”

“He didn’t tell you? Youngho-ah, you’re scaring me.”

“What wouldn't he tell me?”

“Doyoung just called, he called to tell us that there isn’t going to be a wedding. He even apologized and said he would pay for our tickets and return the gifts. I told him there’s no need to, but he insisted. The poor boy kept thanking us for being concerned about him. He said he’s okay, but how can he be, John-ah? He was with her for 13 years.

“Oh sweetie, I can’t even imagine what his parents must be feeling right now. What’s going on? The wedding’s supposed to happen this Saturday. Was it wedding jitters? What happened between them? They were so good together, I can’t imagine what must’ve happened for them to break it off…”

It’s the fourth time his call has gone straight to voicemail, and Johnny gnashes his teeth in frustration. He quickly cancels the call via the touchscreen on his dashboard, sighing exasperatedly as he leans his elbow against the inside of the car door, his fingers in his previously nicely-gelled hair.

“He’s not answering any of my calls…”

“Johnny, calm down.”

“I can’t calm down!” His eyes are wild with worry, as he swerves into the next lane, his hand pressing firmly against the wheel, “Doyoung’s phone is never switched off. You can call him at 3am and he’ll pick up, that’s the kind of person he is. His phone is never switched off!”

Haewon falls silent, listening as Johnny takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry for snapping. I know you must be worried too.” He sighs again, biting his bottom lip. “He’s in hiding, Haewon. It’s not him, he doesn’t go MIA. The only time he was like this was a week before graduation, he suddenly went missing because he was panicking about the future and stuff.”

“Then it’ll be fine, he’ll pick himself up like he did before.”

Despite what she says, Haewon isn’t that sure. For the longest time, Inhee has been an irreplaceable constant in Doyoung’s life, someone who grounds him and takes care of him. It’s difficult to wrap the mind around the space she would leave in Doyoung’s life amongst the burnt shrapnel of their relationship, but it’s not completely unimaginable. Her mind inadvertently teeters between two possible reasons that led him to such a decision - one absolutely selfish, the other utterly heartbreaking.

“Why do you look like that?”

Haewon stills. “What do I look like?”

Johnny regards her suspiciously as he signals a right turn. “… I thought you said you didn’t tell him about Inhee.”

An omission of the truth is still a lie, the voice in her head tells her. When Johnny had asked her that night if she had told Doyoung about Inhee’s affair, she had shaken her head, said she was tired and then locked herself in her room until she fell asleep, her eyes still warm with tears. Subsequently, Johnny didn’t ask anything else, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him that she had confessed and just how badly it had gone.

No one else knows this, but Haewon can’t bring herself to be pathetic in front of Johnny. She refuses to cry in front of Johnny, refuses to tell him about what happened that Monday. It’s not that she doesn’t trust Johnny, in fact, she trusts him too much, but she can’t tell him in the crippling fear of seeing that look on his face - the same look that had settled on his face when it registered that she was in love with his friend, the dimming of the light in his eyes in a moment of poorly-concealed sympathy. Johnny, who  vowed to be her ‘rock, [her] absolute rock’, who has really lived up to his promise and been her rock for three and a half years - he’s not someone she wants to ever let down.

Moreover, while it is entirely possible that she could just be projecting and overthinking, what Doyoung had said the day she had tendered her resignation still clung like barnacles to her thoughts, making her mind whirl with unending possibilities.

“I didn’t, I’m just thinking about what might have happened.” She says against the mouth of her water bottle, gulping down to prevent other words from spilling out.

Johnny habitually chews on his lip in thought. “Maybe he realized he was in love with you- oh my God Haewon, are you okay?!”

Haewon laughs uneasily as she tries to hold back violent coughs and wipes her mouth.

“Wait, so… He did?!” Johnny raises both eyebrows.

“Of course not! What are you saying?!”

“Fine! Then don’t choke in my car!”

Johnny finally hears from Doyoung on Friday morning, the day before he’s supposed to get married. Needless to say, the conversation between them is somewhat chaotic, with Doyoung jokingly asking questions like, “aren’t you supposed to be in London at this time?” and Johnny stuttering an excuse before yelling, “ya! Don’t change the subject when we’re talking about you!” A smile finds itself on Haewon’s face as she listens quietly to their on-speaker conversation in the car, Johnny’s hands on the steering wheel as he drives both of them to work.

Doyoung had found his fiancée and her lover in the shower together when he had returned home at an unexpected time the previous Friday, an undeniably and surprisingly drama-like scenario. In a moment inspired by the swashbuckling protagonists Doyoung had read about growing up, he chose to face the incident with dignity and hero-like placidity, looking at Inhee dead in the eye and factually stating, “it’s over between us”.

As worrying as it is, it’s good to know that Doyoung’s safe. Upon breaking off the engagement and making all the necessary arrangements, Doyoung had returned to Guri for a week to spend time with his parents and attend to his personal and wedding cancelation matters, closing a chapter of his life as Haewon opens another of hers.

“When did he say he’ll be back?” Haewon asks now, watching Johnny loosen his tie as he crosses his legs and relaxes in the chair after dinner.

“He said tomorrow, but he isn’t sure.”

She nods pensively, sucking on the Melona ice pop in her hand.

A glint of mischief enters Johnny’s eyes, and he leans forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his thighs.

“Haewonnie, once he returns… It’s your chance.”

Upon safely locating Doyoung, Johnny had lapsed into his ‘y’all should get together’ rhetoric, encouraging Haewon to ‘seize the opportunity’, since it seems that life has presented her with a second chance. Haewon doesn’t have the heart to tell Johnny how she had actually taken her shot, the attempt collapsing lifelessly around her a couple of weeks ago and making her vow never to try again.

Instead, she brings her feet up against the couch, wrapping her arms around her knees and questions, “why do you want us to get together anyway?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been rooting for this for the longest time, and you’re his friend.”

Johnny rolls his eyes, “please, I’m definitely being the good friend. Sure, maybe I hated Inhee and didn’t think she was deserving of Doyoung by any measure, but you know what would be even more deplorable?”

Haewon hums dismissively, twirling the red wine in her glass.

“Not bringing soulmates together.”

“You can’t be serious.”

He shrugs. “Besides, you guys have, like the worst taste in partners. The only way to ensure that you don’t continue fucking up in your love lives is to get together.”

“I do not!”

Johnny sits up in attention, crossing his legs on the ottoman. “Let’s not even talk about the guy who literally made you run away from him to Korea- What about the guy who made you do his laundry? And landline sex guy? Huh? Not to mention - mansplaining broker guy who cried when you guys had sex…”

“You heard that?!”

Johnny isn’t done. “The guy who cheated on you AND stole your money???”

“Okay fine, but in my defense… I mean, I didn’t really love any of them.”

“Of course not,” he smirks, finishing the rest of his Sangria, “they were just temporary replacements for Doyoung.”

She sighs exasperatedly. “That’s so not true-”

“A-ny-way,” Johnny’s attempt to silence her dissent by speaking even louder toes the line between irritating and downright hilarious, “against that backdrop, forgive me for being surprised that Doyoung caught your eye. You guys are so similar, I want it to happen, for my friends.” He leans back in a ‘mic drop’ moment, crossing his arms in front of him in gratuitous smug. “Plus, I can vouch that he’s an amazing lover…”

“What?!”

“I once heard him having sex with Inhee.” His face morphs into mock disgust. “I mean, I didn’t enjoy it, but… Her moans were, what’s the word for it – banshee-esque.”

“Please don’t go on.”

“Look, all I'm saying is-” he sits up as if he was addressing a serious issue, “you guys are meant to be, okay? Believe me, I know these things. You’re soulmates.”

“Who are soulmates?”

A familiar tenor voice rings from behind them, making both Johnny and Haewon whip their heads towards the open door, a heart-wrenching sight greeting them. At the threshold stands a casually-dressed Doyoung, blue hoodie and black track pants embracing his seemingly thinner frame. His usually gelled dark hair falls softly across his forehead in a rare sight, but it’s the small smile worn on his face that arrests her heart, especially the way it doesn't reach his eyes like it used to.

“Why do you look like that?” He addresses Johnny, “you gave me your spare keys, remember?”

Without a word, Johnny launches himself into Doyoung’s arms, a gesture that looks far more endearing than comedic despite the quiet ‘oof’ that emits from Doyoung’s lips.

“Hey,” he chuckles against Johnny’s shoulder, even though his eyes are on Haewon, “I’m fine, don’t worry. Who are soulmates?”

Haewon smiles softly, letting out a shaky breath as she finds herself incapable of speech.

“I mean, I don’t know who specifically, but you know who and who aren’t soulmates?” Johnny releases Doyoung, laughing uneasily. “Me and Miss Booblicious.”

Haewon’s jaw drops, reluctantly shifting her gaze to meet Johnny’s taunting gaze, Doyoung’s following hers.

“What?” Johnny giggles like he meant to surprise her, “I heard you calling her that to Mama Kang the other night. And yes, we broke up a couple of days ago.”

“You didn’t tell me!”

Doyoung frowns. “You were dating someone?”

“See?” Johnny glares comically, “this is why I didn’t want to tell either of you. You had too much on your plate. Besides, it’s fine, it wasn’t that serious…”

Not that serious my foot, Haewon thinks. You were about to get down on one knee.

Doyoung’s frown deepens as he turns towards Johnny, “okay, well tell me about it another time, I… uhm.”

“I actually came to speak to Haewon.”

She grabs a few bottles of soju Johnny recently purchased from the refrigerator, attempting futilely not to eavesdrop on their conversation in the sitting room. Unwittingly and somewhat annoyingly, her mind toys with the idea that she must mean something to Doyoung, since he’s here and seems to be reaching out to her. But she tries to shut that down, rummaging through the snack cabinet and stashing two bags of potato chips into her haversack before zipping her bag up and running out.

“Okay, I’m ready for ya-” she stops when she catches two surprised faces staring back at her.

She had changed out of her work wear into casual clothes after Doyoung had told her he wanted to talk to her privately and gestured with his car keys. Now, seeing their faces, she wonders if she should have just stayed in her baby blue button-down and pencil skirt.

Doyoung’s face breaks into a charming smile, “okay, let’s go”.

Haewon smiles back widely, following him out of the door after waving goodbye to a wide-eyed Johnny.

“This is arguably crossing the line of professionalism, but… I brought soju?” Haewon grins up at him, breaking the companionable silence they had shared all the way from the apartment to his car.

Doyoung laughs, but his smile still doesn’t reach his eyes. “No, it’s great, actually…” he pauses, revving up the engine and waiting for her to buckle her seatbelt before reversing out of the parking lot, “I think I’ll need it.”

She plays with the baseball keychain on her backpack zipper, unsure of what to say as she watches Doyoung’s fingers grip the steering wheel. She wants to ask him how he’s been, ask him how he feels, tell him how much she’s missed him the entire week, that she didn’t know how she was going to cope in America because not seeing him was somehow far more difficult than convincing herself to let go of him and move on.

She wants to tell him how many times she had passed by his office this week and wanted to walk in, hoping he’d somehow be there. The words press against the inside of her cheeks and threaten to spill from her lips, but she swallows them, knowing that there is a time and place for everything, and her time and place is entirely Doyoung’s tonight.

Instead, she presses her temple against the cool of the windowpane, smoothing the night out of her hair and waits for Doyoung to speak again.

“You know, Johnny has gone through more partners than the both of us combined,” he jokes now.

Haewon almost remarks back that Doyoung has really only been with one person since she’s known him but stops herself, knowing it’s too soon for something like that. She tries, instead, to find safe ground in this conversation.

“Well, he’s a romantic.” She says, sighing in relief internally when Doyoung laughs. “He won’t stop looking for his soulmate.”

“Remember Watanabe Aoi? I was honestly surprised when they broke up.” He quips, referring to the small bubbly Japanese model Johnny had dated for slightly more than a year, who had tearfully dumped him because of the long distance. Johnny had sworn himself off dating and relationships forever while binging himself on a tub of Ben & Jerry’s that night, but had then excitedly gone on a date with a girl from Haewon’s gym two weeks later.

Haewon smiles, remembering how Johnny had insisted, just a few days ago, that the topic of Aoi-san is still sensitive material.

“I was honestly glad. She didn’t love Johnny enough. He was willing to move to another country for her, but you and I both know she wouldn’t have done the same for him.” She sticks her bottom lip out, reminiscing how defensive Johnny had reacted when she had pointed that out thoughtlessly. “There were times he would wait for her to call the entire night, sleeping beside his phone, and then receive a nonchalant text from her the next morning about how she’d fallen asleep once she got home from work.”

Doyoung stifles a laugh at her unyielding tone. “Yeah but… I mean, relationships are hard.”

“Sure,” she nods, “but you should know your worth.”

This draws a curious glance from Doyoung, before he returns his eyes on the road quickly. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean… hmm. It’s like… Remember in college, finals season, everyone’s rushing to the library to study…” Doyoung makes an appreciative hum, “Well, imagine that, and your friend’s like, ‘oh I’m headed there too, save a seat for me’ so you do, but then it’s been close to an hour - and then two - and they haven’t turned up. Your bag is on the seat, and you’re thinking… If I continue to hog the seat, someone else can’t have it, but if I give it up, what if that friend does show up?”

“… You know what I think? I think… I think everyone should have a threshold, and when the waiting time exceeds that threshold, if someone else comes along… We shouldn’t be afraid to give up that seat.”

She twirls the tiny baseball with her fingers, pausing for a moment to let the words settle between them.

“Free ourselves up for something better, you know?” She says, finally looking up at him.

Doyoung hums thoughtfully, and they fall into a necessary silence.

They’re in dangerous waters, Haewon realizes. And as she watches Doyoung’s fingers dance across the dashboard to lower the AC, she briefly flirts with the idea that the stakes of action and inaction are, unlike what she had thought, barely equal. While Johnny had contended that telling Doyoung the truth would have put an end to their deceptive relationship, she remains convinced that if she had told Doyoung about Inhee’s affair earlier, chances are he wouldn’t have believed her, opting instead to trust someone he loved and had known for a longer time. Similarly, if she had not confessed that day, perhaps she wouldn’t be finding herself in the passenger seat of her ex-superior’s car, the atmosphere beholding a tension no one can cut through. But if she had not confessed that day, she also wouldn’t ever have had the courage to do so, and wouldn’t have known that in some manner, deep down, she meant something to him, no matter how little.

At the same time, however, Haewon gleans that she isn’t that much closer to an answer as she thought she would be. Instead, in the aftermath of her confession and the end of his relationship, she finds herself, pertaining to the situation of it all, simultaneously within and without.

It’s almost a cliché when Haewon finds herself on the grass facing the Han river, inhaling the salty river air deeply before unpacking the food and drinks from her backpack.

Doyoung lets out a tinkling laugh, watching her balance the soju bottles on her haversack lying on the grass.

“You’re so prepared, I even thought you brought a picnic mat.”

She sticks her tongue out, patting the clean but lightly damp grass next to her invitingly. So he smiles and crouches down to take a seat as she uncaps a bottle of peach soju for herself. Then, as if suddenly remembering, she fishes a pack of cigarettes from the bottom of the backpack and hands it over to him wordlessly.

“I haven’t had a cigarette in years,” Doyoung chuckles, but takes it anyway.

“I know,” she grins, “I stole this from Johnny. I thought it might help, you know, whatever you need to say. Let it out, boss.”

Before them, the streetlights on the Hangang Bridge shine relentlessly. The Han River is quiet for a Friday night, save for the muted honking in the distance and a chorus of cicadas rubbing their thighs together in the background. Haewon waits for Doyoung to start, feeling the tail of spring rubbing soft against her bare legs and watching as the heavy light from the bridge drape itself across the surface of the Han river like some form of condolence.

Doyoung lights a cigarette, the smoke curling out of him like a ghost.

“That’s what you wanted to tell me, wasn’t it?”

Haewon’s eyes widen.

“The whole day…” He says, turning to her with a gentle smile, “you were trying to get ahold of me to tell me that she was seeing someone else, weren’t you?”

She purses her lips and nod, taking a gulp of the soju in her hands. This is not the conversation she had expected.

“When you told me how you felt…” he exhales, “the next few days I kept thinking, ‘that’s not what she was gonna say’. I knew you wanted to tell me something the whole day, but that wasn’t it. You didn’t mean to say it, you weren’t prepared…”

“Thank you for overanalyzing my inability to form coherent sentences.”

Doyoung laughs breathily, shaking his head. “That’s not what I meant.”

“The day after the… shower incident, Inhee kept asking me ‘did Haewon tell you?’, as if it mattered. Besides, it wasn’t difficult to guess that you knew as well, your reactions towards her when I mentioned her name in the last few weeks have been very telling.”

Haewon relaxes, then her eyes widen again when his words sink in.

“Yes, Haewon, I knew about the affair.”

Haewon’s jaw goes slack, but she’s unable to speak, watching as he smiles wistfully.

“About four months ago?” He says, as if knowing what she's about to ask. “There was this morning, just before we left the house, her phone was on the table, and I accidentally saw a text from him.”

He attempts to uncap a bottle of grapefruit soju with the cigarette still in his hands, until he gives up and hands it over to Haewon.

“There comes a point when you can’t deny that something is happening, even if you try to lie to yourself.”

Haewon bites her lip, handing the uncapped bottle back to him. So strange that that had been exactly what Haewon had thought just a few weeks ago. So strange how different the circumstances have since become.

“You know, Inhee said I didn’t love her, so I didn’t deserve to get upset about this.”

Haewon’s heart thumps against her chest. “She… She said that?”

“No, it’s true.” He smiles, downing a fair amount of soju, “I haven’t been in love with her for a while.”

Her eyes soften, watching his dark hair blow gently in the air and the light on the water reflecting on his cheeks, illuminating his face.

“Well, I can’t say, if I ever really loved her. For the better part of the relationship, she was always the one taking charge. Do you know she asked me out in high school? Everyone was incredulous – and I have to admit, I was as well. I wasn’t some captain of some sports team, I was a random short distance runner who preferred spending most of my time with the school magazine team than the track team.

“But when I hesitated, everyone said, ‘what are you doing? She just asked you out!’… to the extent that I felt I needed to choose her because she chose me. Hmm. It’s strange, isn’t it?” He muses, “that even at that age, some sort of… ranking system, based on the ‘leagues’ we were accorded - given our physical attractiveness and personal interests  - would emerge. And then future decisions - no matter how personal - could only be helmed by those ranked higher in the social hierarchy.”

He balances the soju bottle between his knees, taking a puff of his cigarette.

“I’m not going to chalk it all up to peer pressure – I can’t say I wasn’t drawn to her because of exactly those reasons. And as our relationship progressed, I saw that we were not always compatible. But I thought I was just picky, that I had doomed the relationship from the start with my skepticism and so could only see the parts of us that didn’t match. And when difficult things happened in the family – she was always there. When I needed someone – she was always there.

“I got too comfortable in the relationship. She was so good to me, and my whole family loved her, everyone loved her. She didn’t always support every decision I made, but she wouldn’t say a second thing once I made up my mind. We were so different, and she didn’t always see things the way I did, but I thought I didn’t need her to, you know? That these were things I could share with other people instead. ‘Your partner doesn’t have to be your best friend’, people told me that. So when my mother asked me when we were getting married, I… Well, I thought it was the right thing to do. So I proposed. And everyone was so happy. I mean, I guess I felt happy, that everyone was happy. I thought maybe the happiness was just belated for me.

“God, I made so many excuses to feel better, about not feeling better.” He frowns, but a laugh escapes his lips, and the laugh subsides into a hollow sort of quiet. “’You’ll be happy when you see her in her dress.’ I told myself. ‘When you see her walking down the aisle. When you’re actually married. When your first child is born.’ I was scared to admit that I wasn’t happy – and then, when I couldn’t deny it any longer, scared to do the thing I knew I had to, to be happy again.  

“I’m always saying things like, ‘fuck other people’s expectations, who cares what people think’, but I can’t deny that I caved. It was comfortable, it was easy – so even when I found out that she could be cheating on me, I didn’t want to ruin the future I had fallen so easily in step with. I didn’t know why I was still running, but I was so afraid to stop.”

He downs almost half the bottle of soju, before exhaling slowly.

“Do you think I’m a coward?” He turns towards her.

She thinks about his question for a moment, and shakes her head. “No, I think what you just said is what makes us human. And the courage to acknowledge that you’re human, is what makes you a braver one.”

And finally, Doyoung’s face breaks into a smile.

“You always know how to make me feel better.”

Haewon looks at him for a long time, his eyes sparkling but not watery, his tender sorrow hidden behind a gentle smile. This is the Doyoung she’s fallen in love with, strong and courageous, bent but not broken. The Doyoung who would know how to fix himself even if he is broken. The same Doyoung who, whether she recognizes it or not, looks at her as if she holds the ways of the universe.

“I want to thank you.” He adds.

She lets out a soft smile, brushing strands of hair away from her face.

“Thank you, for holding back, for hesitating. I know you were worried about hurting me, but I’m really okay. And actually, on some level, I’m glad you didn’t tell me. If you’d told me, I might have ignored all of it, again.

“Standing in front of the bathroom knowing I was minutes away from confronting her… That was the wake-up call I needed. I knew I could run away again, leave the apartment, pretend all of it wasn’t happening like I’d done before so many times when a hint of the affair presented itself. But this time… I couldn’t. I had to see the truth, had to see it face-to-face to wake up and realize that this wasn’t right for both of us. It wasn’t fair to her, and it wasn’t fair to me as well.

“So thank you, for not saying a thing.”

She can feel the warmth in her eyes, thinking about what he had to go through and feeling, once again, that Johnny had been right. Despite what Doyoung had said, she feels guilty knowing that he could have potentially avoided such a cruel confrontation. But even with the feeling of something lodged in her throat, Haewon knows it’s not her moment to show these secondhand emotions, especially when the haphazard debris of his relationship is still warm, still smoking. So she swallows these thoughts and any arising tears back with another big gulp of soju altogether.

“You deserve the best, Doyoung.” She says after a moment.

He turns to look at her gently, studying her features, “what’s wrong?”

She sighs, calming herself down.

“I just… I didn’t know if I was in the correct position-”

“Well you didn’t have to say anything, but you are. You’ve…” He purses his lips, “you’ve always been. In the right position, in the right place. You’re…”

He opens his mouth, and then shuts it, exhaling. Then his lips part again.

“You’re very important to me.”

Haewon looks at him, feeling the breath knocked out of her lungs.

And there it is, another confusing statement of Doyoung’s bordering this time, on frustrating. While she cannot bring herself to call him out on it, she finds herself no longer able to accept these somewhat lackadaisical words from him anymore, not when he is so entirely aware of the feelings she still has for him. So she drops him a teary chuckle, finishes the rest of her soju and mutters a “well, I feel the same way” instead of what she wants to say, these kinder words delivered like an afterthought to find themselves, somewhere, in the spaces between them.

She can feel Johnny’s curious peering as she finishes the rest of her breakfast, her mind still running amok with Doyoung’s words last night. She wonders why he always does this, drops these tiny bombs that mess with her for the next couple of days before she finally wills them away and classifies them as unintentional. She hears Johnny call her name faintly, but can only bring herself to tear her thoughts away from Doyoung at his third call.

“I saw you get in late last night,” Johnny says, “is everything ok?”

“Yeah, he just wanted to talk.” She stands and takes both empty bowls, as well as the empty stew pot, into the kitchen, running the tap to soak the dishes in the sink.

“He knows,” she says, hearing Johnny step into the kitchen behind her as she turns the tap off, “that, I knew.”

“Oh yeah, he told me.”

She nods, turning to face him, her hands still clasped on the countertop.

“So are you… like, getting together?”

Haewon shakes her head. “No, no of course not. I don’t think… I don’t think it’ll ever happen. About what you said yesterday… I think you’re wrong this time.” His expression morphs into bewilderment. “I put everything on the line, John, but he doesn’t want me.”

Johnny studies her carefully. “You confessed to him?”

She bites her lip and nods.

“The day you told me to tell him… I couldn’t… I ended up…” she sighs in exasperation.

“You didn’t tell me about this.”

“Sorry, I was… I didn’t want you to think less of me.”

“Never.” He says, his eyes soft and unreadable. “Come here,” he gestures with his open arms, wrapping them securely around her when she settles into his embrace. Being around Johnny has always been comforting, Haewon thinks to herself, smiling when she feels a kiss on her temple. She hugs him tightly, inhaling the scent of his laundry detergent instead of his usual cologne.

“I love you, you know that, right?” He says, releasing her from his embrace but his arms still wound around her waist.

She smiles, nodding.

“I know.”

Johnny’s gaze is soft and slightly dejected, and a part of Haewon wants to ask him what’s wrong, not understanding why there is a quiet, slightly fearful resolution in his eyes -

- until he pulls her even more closely towards him and slants his lips over hers.

xx

w/n: in case anyone was wondering, Watanabe Aoi was my Aikido sensei when I was young lmao. She was hot. I honestly just wanted a random name and was tired of searching for Korean names.

also, just to let you know ‘cause some people have been asking, tumblr works based on the number of reblogs! if you’re wondering why you can’t find chance encounters in the tags, it’s likely because people prefer ‘liking’ the post to ‘reblogging’ the post. this discrepancy can make a huge difference to my work, so if you really did enjoy the chapter, i encourage you to reblog it! :-) thank you for reading this! 

COME SCREAM AT ME HERE!!!  ask

[im-bakugous-bitch]

Tenya Iida - Internships

Read this on wattpad like...6 months ago?  It isn’t stolen!  That’s me!  That’s my wattpad!  And if you’re reading it here for the first time, enjoy!

In this imagine, your quirk is: Ruby! When you bleed, your blood becomes solid rubies that you can manipulate into any form you wish! Also, for the purpose of this, you have Type AB blood.

You stared down at the paper in your hands.  It was a list of Agencies willing to take on the UA students who got no offers as interns.  In your other hand, you held a paper with a single offer on it.  You scanned the papers before looking over at your boyfriend, Tenya Iida.  He had his own list of several offers.  You wondered where he'd go.  Maybe you'd end up in the same city, and you'd run into each other.  

You returned your attention to your paper.  You had to focus on yourself for this, not think about Iida and where he'd be going.  This was your chance to do something for you, and you knew that not only you but also he would be disappointed if you let thoughts of being together cloud your judgement.  Besides, it was only a week.  You could deal with that.

You put the paper in your backpack as Aizawa dismissed class.  You stood up and walked over to Iida's desk, watching him as he handed his paper to Aizawa and came over to you.

"Quick decision," you said as he packed his belongings into his bag.  "Positive it's the one you want?"

He nodded.  "I've only been this sure about few things in my life."  He put his bag over his shoulder and let you wrap your arm around his as he led you out of the classroom.  "Think long and hard about your choice, y/l/n."

You smiled at him.  "Of course!"  He opened the door to the lunchroom for you, and you pecked him on the cheek as you stepped past him through the doorway.  "How's your brother?"

He sighed, looking around to see if anyone was approaching you as you sat at your usual table.  "He's roughed up pretty bad.  But I don't want people knowing that."

"Your secret's safe with me," you said.  "Where did you choose for your internship by the way?"

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, and a small smile grazed his lips.  "I'm not telling you until you choose on your own.  I want this to have no influence on your decision."

You playfully roll your eyes.  "I like you, but I'm not that dumb."  You pulled your lunch out of your bag and smiled as Uraraka and Midoriya sat down at the table with you.

--

You stood at the train station with your bag in hand, looking up at Iida.  Your heart hurt to be separating, especially for so long, but you knew it had to be done.  He was going to intern in Hosu City with Normal Hero Manual, while you were going with Todoroki to intern with Endeavor.  Though you had heard all but nice things about him, you wanted to see what it was like to be one of the top.  You wanted to see just how intense things could really get.

"I'll see you in a week," Iida said as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.  You saw sadness in his eyes, but his face remained as stoic and professional as always.  

You put your bag down and wrapped your arms around him.  "I'll see you in a week," you repeated.

You felt him chuckle lightly and wrap his arms around you.  "I will miss you," he said quietly.  "Good luck with Endeavor."

You smiled.  "I'll miss you too, good luck with Manual."

He pulled out of the hug and looked around your surroundings.  "We have another minute, right?"

You nodded your head.  "Yeah, we have time."

He smiled.  "Good, I've been thinking about this all day."  He reached his hands up to gently cup your cheeks, pulling you closer until your lips met his.  

You reached your arms up to hang around his neck as you returned the kiss.  Yes, you had kissed Iida before, but this one felt...Different.  You couldn't quite put your finger on it, then again you weren't trying very hard.  You just enjoyed it until he pulled away and released your face.

You smiled at him.  "W-wow," was all you could say as your face flushed a furious red.  

He smirked.  "That good, huh?"

You removed your arms from his neck and playfully slapped his arm.  "Ha ha, very funny."  You two stared at each other for a moment, until you said, "Be careful."

He nodded.  "I always am."

You had no doubts that his choice in internship had everything to do with his brother's attack, but you didn't tell him that.  The last thing he needed was to worry about you worrying about him.

"The train to Hosu City will be departing in five minutes.  Final boarding call."

You looked up at him, and tried to put on a smile.  Now that he was actually leaving, it was hard for you to not at least tear up a bit.  You'd only been with Iida for about six weeks, but...It felt so right.  "Good luck!" you said energetically, stepping up on your tip-toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

"You as well," he said with a smile.  "I love you."

You froze.  Those three words...They were something you had been thinking about for a couple weeks.  Being with him was always so great, and it felt so right.  you'd thought about saying them, but you wanted to have everything sorted out in your head before even thinking about attempting to.  Plus, you wanted to get the internships out of the way first.

You opened your mouth to speak, but another voice beat you to it.  

"Iida!" Midoriya yelled as he ran towards you, Uraraka at his side.  When he reached you guys, he immediately said, "Hey if you ever wanna talk or anything just let us know.  We're friends, right?"

Iida turned to face Midoriya for a second.  "Yes."  He then turned towards his train and approached it.

You turned to him.  "Iida wait-!" you called out, but he didn't stop.  Maybe he couldn't hear you over the hustle-and-bustle of the train station.  Your heart broke as you watched the train doors close, and you watched as it pulled out of the station.

--

Endeavor had taken you and Toderoki to Hosu City in search of the Hero Killer.  You had no idea whether you wanted to run into Iida or not.  He hadn't been returning your texts or phone calls, and things left on a not-so-good note.  Plus, if you found him fighting the Hero Killer...

You shook the thoughts from your head as Todoroki elbowed you and showed you his phone.  "It's a location from Midoriya.  It's here in the city!"

You nodded and followed wordlessly as you ran behind him, following him as he tracked your location on his phone until you reached a dark alley.  The sight that beheld you there almost made you lose the contents of your stomach.

The Hero, Native, was slumped against a building, bloody and beaten but alive.  And on the ground, just feet away from the Hero Killed, laid Iida.

You ran over to him and knelt down beside him.  You wanted to tell him in person what you'd been calling about, but you knew it wasn't the time.  Instead, you grabbed his helmet off the ground and used a pointed edge to slice your arm open, forming a ruby staff.

"Y/L/N NO!" Iida yelled, but made no movement as you stood.  

You ignored him and turned to face The Hero Killer, Stain, with your staff in hand.

Stain laughed lightly as he looked at you.  "Oh, you made this too easy."

"Y/L/N GET OUT OF HERE!" Iida yelled, but yet again you ignored him.  

You ran towards Stain and jumped into the air, preparing to bring your staff down on his head as he pulled a sword from one of the many sheaths at his side.  You were surprised though when he didn't swing it at you, but at your staff.  It sliced in half, and the half that fell to the ground broke apart into a puddle of your blood.

Stain knelt down and dipped his tongue into the puddle, and suddenly you couldn't move.  It must have been his Quirk.

"Y/N!" Iida screamed.

You didn't even realize he used your first name.  You were lifted up on Toderoki's ice and slid down a small incline, landing about ten feet in front of Iida.  "Iida, you're a dumbass," you said.  It wasn't the time for declaring feelings, but if you were immobilized you could at least scold him.  "I know you want to avenge what happened to your brother but this was a bad idea.  You really thought you could take him alone?  This guy kills Pro Heroes for a living, and you're still a UA student!"  It wasn't that you didn't believe in him.  That was the exact opposite, actually.  You knew he could do it if he just completed his training and became a Pro.  He still had a lot to learn, as did everyone else.

"And you're...An idiot..." he grunted back to you.  "Why...Are you even...Here?!"

"Because Todoroki brought me here!"  You were trying so hard to move and join the raging battle, but you couldn't.  You felt so useless in that moment.

"When I...Can move again...I'm bringing you out...To the street."  There was no question in his voice.  This was not an offer, but a demand.  A statement.  "Stay there."

You wanted to shake your head.  "You need all the help you can get."

"His fight...Is with me!  I don't want you here!"

Tears slid down your face.  You planted your face into the cement to hide them as you tried to keep your emotions in check.  You had no idea how this was going to affect your relationship with Iida, if there even was one anymore.  

You couldn't focus on that.  You had to focus on fighting this and getting up.

You looked up again and, as you saw Stain falling down to stab Native, suddenly Midoriya was up and pushing him out of the way.  You sighed in relief, this meant that the paralysis could be broken.

You tried to move again, but couldn't.  Your head was turned at an angle so you couldn't even see the fight, only the old metal stairwell of the building beside you.  Part of you was relieved, yet you were anxious.  You wanted to know what was happening.

You heard a sound from beside you, and out of your peripheral vision you saw Iida get up.  You silently cheered.  "Don't worry about me!" you yelled to him.  You knew you should have told him to stay out of the danger, but...You knew how he wanted it.  He was willing to risk his life for it.  Even if it meant possibly losing him, if it was what he wanted...  "Get him!"

That was love.  You knew you had to let him do this, and it isn't like you were in any position to stop him if you wanted to.  You knew he needed this - for himself, and his brother.  Even if he lost, he'd still have done something.  All he wanted was to avenge his brother, and you knew that.  He took care of people who took care of him, and hurt those that hurt the ones he cared about.  That was just one of the many qualities about him you'd fallen in love with.

You couldn't see, but you heard Iida's calf-engines hard at work.  By now Stain's Quirk had been figured out, and you knew you couldn't use yours.  You'd have to use your combat skills alone once you could move again.

You heard a loud impact from the air, and your heart skipped a beat.  Was Iida okay?  If something happened to him, you had no idea what you'd do.  

You tried to move again, and you could curl your fingers.  You sighed in relief as slowly, you could move, until you sat up.  Everything was silent around you, and you turned to see your friends standing before a block of ice that held Stain.  You gasped in amazement.  They actually did it.

Midoriya turned to you.  "y/l/n!" he called out, and ran over to help you up.  You were a little hurt that it wasn't Iida, but you understood.  He looked to be entranced as he stared at Stain.  You weren't sure if you should approach him or not and, now that you got to clearly look at him, your heart broke a little.  He'd told you he loved you and then not taken your calls, he'd told you basically to get lost.  You blinked to try and clear the tears from your eye, and faked a sneeze so you could wipe them away.

They had taken care of him, you had no purpose to be there anymore.  "Todoroki, I'm going to head back to your Father and see if I can do anything to help."

Todoroki nodded, but you felt a hand on your arm.  You turned to face Iida, but you couldn't look at him.

"Yes?" you asked.

"Can we talk?"  

You shrugged your shoulders.  "Sure, I'll call you.  Oh wait - you don't answer."

He shook his head.  "That was wrong on my part.  I was just...Upset."

You scoffed.  "What were you upset about?"

He let go of your arm.  "I told you I love you and you didn't say it back."

You chuckled lightly.  Big, smart, strong Iida was taken down by a shocked girl not reciprocating an I love you.  "I yelled your name when you were getting on the train, you didn't turn back.  I was going to speak when Midoriya showed up."

He pushed his glasses up on his nose.  "And what were you going to say?"

You sighed.  "I don't really know, honestly.  I just didn't want you to leave.  I didn't want to leave things like that."

A slight frown crossed his face.  "So you weren't going to tell me you loved me."

You looked at your feet.  "I'd been thinking about it.  I just...Wanted to wait until after the internships to have this conversation."  Your eyes landed on your crystallized arm, healing from you cutting it open with his helmet.  "Do you wanna do this now, or wait until we get back home?"

He sighed and looked around for a moment, before shouting, "Midoriya!"

Midoriya turned and ran over, and Iida whispered something in his ear.  The green-haired boy nodded and reached to take your hands in his, guiding them to hold Iida's.  "He couldn't grab yours, so he asked for some help," he said.

Iida looked down at you.  "I just need to know, y/n."

Your face flushed red.  "Y-You called me y/n..."  When he nodded, you smiled and met his eyes.  "I do love you."

He smiled and sighed in relief.  "You have no idea what this means to me."

You hugged him, being careful to avoid his injuries.  "I'm sorry I didn't say it right away, I just...I was surprised."

"It's okay," he whispered.  He kissed your forehead lightly.  "We don't have a lot of time before we have to go turn in Stain and find our Heroes.  But we do have a moment."

You smiled at him and stepped out of the hug.  "Well, what would you like to do in this moment?"

He smiled at you and leaned forward.  Right before your lips were about to meet, he whispered, "I want to hear you say it again."

You chuckled and blushed deep red.  "I love you, Iida."

He closed the distance and connected his lips to yours for a second, before pulling away and saying, "Tenya."

Your heart began leaping with joy.  "Okay, Tenya.  Go bring your villain to the police.  We only have a few days left, so we'll finish this when we're home."

He smiled again and pressed one last kiss to your forehead.  "I love you."

"I love you, too."

[crqstalite]

pt. 8, into the lion’s den pt. 1 (felix && naji)

and i oop-

ah yes, i did promise that mierrio would make an appearance someday >:)

i also love felix. fandom, please write more felix fanfictions.

written: 8.5.19. word count: 2,461

════ ⋆★⋆ ════ character song: holding out for a hero, bonnie tyler

character file: jedi master naji iresso, barsen'thor

-

naji doesn’t like admitting a lot of things. she doesn’t like admitting she’s a prodigy, or that lifting a few crates could be as easy as breathing. she definitely doesn’t like admitting her artistic talents, or anything not related to the force. it seems like bragging, being arrogant even. the tight-lipped barsen'thor hasn’t mentioned it to anyone on her present crew, and would like to keep it that way.

which is why when she thinks she has the cockpit to herself, sometimes she finds herself singing quietly in basic while in the captain’s chair, and then circling through her small knowledge of other languages as she sings through the verses. she brushes through her hair (which has grown quite long after three years of not taking as good care of it as she should), singing as she likes, the stars twinkling back at her.

she’s about to begin braiding, which she saves for her very small portion of mandalorian she knows (mako, one of qyzen’s contacts bonded with her over their shared lack of knowledge of the elusive language, and they’ve been learning together with a certain torian cadera since), when two warm hands find themselves over her eyes.

when this first started happening, it ended in the medbay as she apologized time after time for throwing her lightsaber hilt in fear and nearly knocking him out. but, naji knows from the bare, dark hands that it’s just her husband. most likely with another surprise, but it’s her felix. she smiles as her lover reveals himself.

“naj? you busy?” he asks as she jokingly peels one hand off her face. “wanted to talk to you.”

“go ahead, felix.” she giggles, turning to meet his eyes. he’s got that twinkle, that look that says he’s got something for her. it’s a real pity, she has so many beautiful gifts from him, and she has yet to be able to find one that makes her empty her account. naji had recently found a new assault rifle that she was sure felix would love, but had yet to actually purchase it from the catalog due to shipping expenses. she begins braiding again, fingers dancing through her hair as he sits down in a chair opposite to her. “is something wrong?”

“far from it. you didn’t tell me you could sing like that.” her cheeks heat as she remembers what she had been doing before he’d arrived. “it’s…beautiful.”

“thank you.” she says, smiling. “i don’t particularly like telling others about it.”

“why not?” he asks. “not that you have to tell me, i’m just curious.”

“it’s a long story. one i’d…rather not tell, if that’s okay.” she says, her mood dropping. he picks up on it.

“well, we’ve been pretty busy for the last couple of years.”

“okay?” she’s mildly suspcious, but he’s right. as not only the barsen'thor, but also a jedi in general, she’s been fighting on the frontlines for the rift alliance and the republic. she’s had her run-ins with the sith and imperials, but now that felix brought it up, she doesn’t remember the last time they’ve had real r&r. given, both work tirelessly and other than tharan complaining about the lack of supplies, it’s never been a real problem. they’re very overdue for a vacation, by felix’s military standards.

she frowns as she realizes that they’ve never had a real honeymoon. whatever that is. she’ll be the first to admit that as a teenage jedi, she missed out on a lot of life and traditions. “what’re you planning?”

“well,” he pulls out a box from one of his lounge clothing pockets as she ties off the braid, it hangs down her back as she turns her attention back to him. “you did say ‘i do’, just not with anything..y'know, special. thought i’d celebrate three years with something nice.”

“felix, please.” she tries not to seem exasperated as she sits a bit straighter up, facing her husband’s smiling face. “i don’t need anything else from you.”

“sorry?” he half-heartedly shrugs, as she playfully rolls her eyes. they’ve gotten each other little trinkets here and there, and she loves the ones that she does receive. felix, on the other hand, goes out of his way to get the most special things for her when he’s gone for a long period of time, and it seems this is no different. he hands her the box, and right off the bat she knows it some sort of jewelry. it’s light, and doesn’t inherently make a sound when she shakes it. looking back at him once more, she quickly looks away before she loses her will to not rip into it like a child. opening it carefully with little more than her index finger, she gasps in surprise. a ring lays in between two pieces of cotton, a gold band with two crystals laid into it, one orange and one green. “took me a while to find it, it doesn’t have a match anywhere in the galaxy.”

naji hopes she doesn’t look like she’s about to cry, because that’s exactly how she feels. “i-i love it..i’m sorry, i don’t have anything for you.”

“hey, hey. don’t cry.” he says smiling, as he softly pulls the box out of her grasp, taking the ring out and closing it. “here, let me see your hand.”

trembling, she holds it out for his dark hand to take her pale counterpart. he slips the band onto her ring finger, as it sits there twinkling back at her in the dark. it’s a gorgeous shade of gold, tangerine and a beautiful verdant green. even as soon as it’s done, tears are rolling down her cheeks as she pulls felix into a tight hug. “i’ll say yes as many times as you want, felix.”

he hugs her back just as tightly, “glad to hear it, naj.”

and that’s that. however, naji isn’t actually able to get back to work for the rest of the day, not that she was working to begin with. she keeps watching the ring as if it’s going to fly off her finger in a freak accident, and nearly has a heart to heart with herself about whether to take it off before getting in the 'fresher or not. she does, once logic comes into play, but slips it right back on afterwards.

she found a gold band for him the week following. she adores the way it glints off the dim lights of their room as they lazily hold hands, falling asleep in each others’ embraces.

-

“incoming transmission. playing it now.” zenith says once they’ve gathered near the holoterminal.

“who’s it from? i wasn’t expecting any calls.” naji says, felix’s arm wound around her waist as she leans into him. nadia gives her a devilish grin before turning back to the terminal as naji silently reminds herself that she’s only a padawan and that’s no reason to tell her off.

“unknown code, can’t say i’m sure where’s it from, but it’s not from our star system.” zenith responds. felix loosens his grasp on her reflexively (they got caught by one of her masters, thank the stars it had only been master satele calling and not the whole council) as she nods to her twi'lek companion.

“hello? don’t know whether this thing connected or not. never been good with holos.” a male zabrak appears on the other side of the screen, hood down and his eyes refocus from the datapad in his hand to her. clearly, a jedi considering the lightsaber hanging from his hip. “barsen'thor.”

“master delux.” she bows accordingly after recognizing him, (he’s rather popular among the younger generation of female padawans that haven’t grasped the 'no passion’ rule just yet), giving a small smile to the holo’s camera. “it’s good to see you.”

“i could say the same.” he responds, tapping at his pad before glancing around, realizing he had an audience. he clears his throat before continuing, “however, this isn’t a social call.”

“i understand.” she answers. “how can i assist you?”

“it’s an issue on alderaan we haven’t be able to resolve just yet. whenever you can come down to house organa, preferably in the next couple of days, i’ll meet you there.” he puts the datapad down and instead crosses his arms behind his back, like most jedi rest their hands. “it is urgent, so i suggest you set a course within the day. do not come ill-prepared, there is a major chance that we may encounter imperial resistance.”

“of course, master.” the holo flicks off, and she considers his offer. “i figure we’re going to alderaan. pack your thermal clothes.”

“back to alderaan. jedi, are you not aware of how cold it is there?” tharan asks sarcastically. “i think i’ll stay on the ship this time around.”

“keep talking like that, she’ll drag you out to hoth next time we’re planetside.” felix chuckles as she shrugs once tharan looks at her accusingly. the scientist was one thing, absolutely brilliant, but also completely unable to handle the cold. naji iresso would never do such a thing as to bring the man down into the frigid weather, but she likes to entertain the idea.“i’ll set a course for alderaan then.”

“thank you, felix. nadia, qyzen, i’d like you both to come planetside with me.” she catches felix’s soft frown before he kisses her forehead and disappears, though they both know why she doesn’t take him on more jedi-related missions (speaking to the council or not, naji was still leery about letting other jedi know about their less than platonic relationship) plus, it would be good to get the trandoshan hunter and her padawan off the ship. nadia was progressively becoming stronger in the force, and soon the defender would be too small for lessons. heading for her own private quarters, she’s proud of the white haired girl. she’s come far from relying on her emotions, but she may as well instill some sort of test while they’re docked here.

it won’t be long until they dock in the organa spaceport, as they’d recently left a few days ago, so she takes this time to meditate. naji doesn’t know master delux personally, only that many see him as the 'hero of tython’ and respect him as such. he’s one of her heroes, and would be for a long time. she’d been through the temple only a few years after him, and to now have him calling on her holoterminal, asking for her help?

she grinned at the thought. felix made her feel one kind of special, but being called upon by the jedi made her feel another.

changing out of her lighter robe, she ties her hair into a loose topknot as she lies back on the bed in her underclothes. not hugely scandalous, but a pair of loose leggings and a tighter white shirt that was thermal to keep her warm. naji wasn’t lazy, never was and never would be, but she learned something new everyday from her crew. all of them had (in their own ways) helped her relax and not care as much about what other’s thought. naps were common for the female jedi because of this.

her datapad dings with a notification. picking it up in her hands, she scans over the message sent by master delux. she cringes as she reads over the contents. it mentions that she’d be disgusising herself as a sith.

a sith of all things!

the mission is straightforward enough. the republic has an agenda against the sith, and the jedi particularily have it out for a sith lord by the name of darth nox, a dark council member. her face appears on the datapad, confidently smiling into the lens of the holocamera. the darkness has clearly corrupted her, the area around her eyes dark and her skin pale. there have been supposedly a laundry list of crimes against her, imperial and republic given, and reading through them, she shivers.

corrupting a padawan?

murdering a jedi?

and those are just against the order…

and she was going to have to be in kahoots with more like her at this…gathering. it’s described loosely as a gathering and later explained to be more of an alliance agreement for thul and some other minor houses. she, master delux and his newest padawan, a certain una…vee, would be the only jedi attending, though organa forces would back them up in case something went horribly wrong.

to be surrounded by that much darkness, it terrifies naji. being able to feel the coolness of their presences rather than the radiance of a jedi’s, it’s something new entirely. something she’s only felt once before.

something she’d rather never feel again if she can help it.

but, as she continues on down the letter, it reiterates itself. she was chosen for her level head and force sensitivity. she was chosen because as the warden of the order, she had a duty not only to protect the jedi, but defend them as well. her orders weren’t to kill darth nox, but to learn about her. where she docked, where she was going next, her plans for the immediate future. anything to help bring her into custody was of importance to the jedi.

the letter finishes by warning her of not only the fallen padawan’s presence (warned not to engage unless necessary. she has apparently been less than open to speaking with the jedi), but also a possible monster (only blurry photos of the thing have been collected, and no one has exactly come back with a clear recollection just yet), kaleesh (not expected to show, but has been said to be seen traveling with the inquisitor), and a gunslinging human male. (reportedly romantically involved with the inquisitor, and highly dangerous. also, warned not to engage unless-oh, nope. just don’t engage at all.)

and oh stars, it’s a formal event. there’s a hurriedly typed note (it’s misspelt in several areas that naji craves to fix) at the bottom that mentions formal jedi robes are not recommended. darker clothing is suggested, and a holo of a suggestable dress is included. and a p.p.s, an escort is required.

she would have qyzen escort her, but no sith is stupid enough to assume she’s romantically involved with a trandoshan. and tharan, while a wonderful healer, isn’t worth too much in a fight.

naji and felix would be wandering into the lion’s den. a gathering of scandalously dressed sith, and three jedi would be in the middle of it all. lords shevell (una..vee?? havel..zee?? naji was usually well-versed in figuring out names, but this confused her.), o'vare (herself) and x'ire (master delux), would be attending in their place.

stars above, today was not her day.

[sian22redux]

Pretty Woman

For  @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan ‘s  Body Positivity Challenge.

Pairing:  Plus size reader x Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Setting: Post Infinity War, the world has magically gone back to normal…

Rating: T

For the gorgeous @winters-beauty because she really likes this type of challenge.

 With a prompt like “your body is not ruined”  I know most folks are thinking of post-pregnancy or something but I’ve gone a different way, based on my own recent experiences.  This is post major illness where reader has to adjust to change. Hence some of her reactions here are based on loss of health of course, and control, and having to adjust to a new reality.  

 Fortunately her two guys have some experience with that.  

--------------------------

“Help!!”

The panicked cry that suddenly tumbles from your mouth brings your boyfriends running from the living room.

“Y/N?! Jarvis!?”  Steve is the first to skid to a halt at the bedroom door, blond brows creasing in anxiety and hands glued to the frame, ready to propel himself against whatever threat lurks inside.  His frown and tanned bulk take up all the open space, block the escape route as he quickly scans the room, reconning automatically for any one of several unpleasant situations.  

Intruder?  

Explosion? 

Lethal virus?

Nope.  

Nothing quite so deserving of an American hero’s skills.

Just your dumb rotten luck.  

“All is secure, Captain Rogers,” intones Jarvis mildly from above the massive closet door and you almost, almost laugh, because-- secure.   Great choice of verb.   Thanks.  Thanks so very much.  Now the AI is making jokes..

Bucky arrives a heartbeat behind and elbows Steve aside, squeezing through to stand worriedly at the cream carpet’s edge.  “Baby, what’s wrong?”

What’s wrong?!!!

James Buchanan Barnes allegedly has super-vision.   How can he not fricken’ see?!  

“I’m stuck!!!”

You stand poised in the middle of your bright and airy Tower bedroom wondering how life came to this.  There’s a tankini top caught about your chest and upper arms that’s mashing tender skin. The matching boxer briefs are wedged halfway up your ample thighs, their blue elastic pinching so hard it just might bruise.  

Secure.  

Yup.  

Impossibly. Hopelessly. Secure.

The frustration of this new reality makes you want to howl but it is the humiliation of standing there, inextricably pinned by two small scraps of cloth, that sends the tears silently coursing down your cheeks.   It was hopeless from the start.  There is no way you will get your one and only (and favourite) bathing suit on.  

Now, or possibly forever.  

The realization is truly sinking in.

“My body is ruined!”

Your plaintive wail jerks Bucky into action.  He leaps forward, slips both arms around your shoulders, braces you upright, murmuring “No doll, your body is not ruined,” softly against your hair, stroking your shuddering back as the dam bursts wide and months of pent up hurt flow out in a hiccupping, sobbing mess.  Steve, as always hyper focused on the mission, has figured out that rescue and extraction are the first priority and so he bends down and stretches the suit’s leg holes wide with his two strong hands, taking care not to tear the fabric.  Gingerly he shimmies the blue-aqua ikat print farther down-- the tugging is uncomfortable but eventually he helps you lift one foot and then the other, sets the bottoms on the bed and turns his attention to the top.  

Push, pull, wiggle—swear--- somehow he manages to remove it without tearing skin.  

You’re finally, finally free and he’s holding you, a wet and snotty, naked bundle of anxiety against his massive chest, crooning softly, “Shhh, baby, it’s ok. It’s ok.”

It’s really not.

“Here, sweetheart.”   A damp facecloth is pressed into your hand.   “Better?” Bucky’s eyes are blue green wells of hopefulness as he passes extra Kleenex for you to blow your nose and oh so delicately dabs aloe from a bottle onto the pad of his metal index finger.  

Oh god, he’s already retreated to the bathroom for supplies.   Each ensuing whisper light, achingly considerate touch of cool against the red welts upon your skin makes you want to tear up again.  Inside the chill, implacable shell of the Winter Soldier there had been trapped the world’s sweetest, gentlest man.  One who has a need to help, cannot stand to see anyone even slightly hurt, and the thought that he’s so tenderly helping you just slays you.  

Sniffing loudly, you dab your eyes and try to smile a little brokenly because you are beyond grateful but also, this is all so wrong.  “Thank you.”

Bucky nods.  Dark and gold, your boys rotate around and now Steve is at your back.  He sits on the one free bit of bed and pulls you down onto his lap with Bucky crouching down beside.  

Both are tense—and worried.  You’ve all been so looking forward to this break—to the Memorial day getaway that Tony is throwing at his Hampton house.  Laid back, weathered wood and chicly elegant white and grey, it is a sprawling haven. Rattan loungers surround an endless pool.  Acres of green lawn will host hilariously drunk croquet.  The beachside fire will glow below a vault of coruscating stars.  

Perfect and all perfectly organized by your boss, Miss Potts.  

Wheels up is at six.  

The sun is climbing quickly to its zenith, baking New York’s already heated streets and anyone who can is trying to find relief.  Bucky’s got on a linen shirt and dark boardshorts.  Steve is as dressy as he ever is in grey t-shirt and zip-off cargos.  You would have donned your sundress by now but around the three of you lie scattered a flurry of discarded summer clothes—like so much sediment rained out of a clear blue sea 

Not a single item fits.  

You’ve been sick for months.   Actually a year.   Have lost the permanent lines of pain and the wan pale skin of too much time indoors but still you are not yourself.  Eight months of steroid treatment have left you drained.  Bloated.   Living in your housecoat and nightclothes on a bad day and in sweats when it’s good.  

The fact that this is the first big event since you’ve been somewhat well stares you in the face.  Online you’d bought needed winter things but no warm weather items yet.  You’d been holding off in the faint hope you’d lose a little more.  But summer is arrived—early and abruptly--quite rudely without consideration of your schedule.  A drizzly week ago the mercury had barely climbed to sixty.   Now it’s a sweltering 82 

“I can’t go.”  

You hate yourself for saying it out loud but a little tendril of relief coils up.  You literally can’t get your suit on.  What will you do?  Hide in the house in jeans and rolled up sleeves?  Flounder in one of Steve’s fabled smedium T-shirts?  Wear one of Bucky’s as a dress??

Cocooning the whole time in the air conditioning feels as if it is giving in to debility once again.

“Steve, will you tell Tony that I’m sick?”

You twist round to catch his gaze but immediately you hear Bucky’s snarking response beside.  “Oh yeah, ask him to fib.  The one with experience lying on his forms.”

“Punk.”  

“Jerk.”   

“Hey!  I’m not the one who has the world bamboozled into thinking that I’m squeaky clean.”

“Fuck off, Buck.”

“Bingo!”

They’re quite the team---put on the squabbling couple act to try to cheer you up and you can’t help it, you shake your head in fond exasperation.  The thoughtfulness is sweet, but still, there’s a little hollow in your stomach.  They’ve done this so very much in the past few months the routine is pitch perfect every time.  

“You are meatballs, the both of you.”  

Bucky shrugs and gives a wry half smirk but Steve sighs heavily, running a soothing hand across your neck where the nerve pain has been worst.  “Your meatballs, Y/N.  But Baby, why?  You’re not hurting badly are you?”

Oh god.   Of course Steve’s going to worry about your symptoms.  Checking in, adjusting to their ups and downs, has become automatic.  You remember for a moment that first night of terror: the sudden jolt as if you’d been hit by a cattle prod, the fuzzy return to consciousness, speech slurred, left arm dead, a raging headache piercing through your skull and radiating down your neck.  Steve yelling at Jarvis to get the EMTs, all but certain it was a stroke. The week in hospital and months horizontal after that.  One night of terror turns into every night.  The seizures hit like clockwork.  Make you afraid to fall asleep because you’re going to get that same electrical shock to brain and the spreading flush of pain.   Every damn night.   Your arm, thankfully, comes back but that doesn’t stop it’s throbbing for a moment.  You feel guilty all the time because they are doing everything. Making meals. Cleaning.  Laundry.  Shopping. Shuttling you to doctors.  One of them insists on staying back from missions because you need so much help.  Neither will let anyone else but them take care of you most days, and so the Avengers do their best.  Run errands and make meals.  Read to you when the headache makes words slide across the page.  Distract Steve and Bucky with needed sparring bouts when all you can do is be still and quiet in a darkened room.  

While the medical team tries cocktails of different things, you all wait and hope.  Hoo boy is that fun.  There’s the one that makes you stoned.   The one that doesn’t work at all but gives you vertigo.  The one that works too well and makes you sleep twenty hours out of twenty-four.  The big gun intravenous med has Shield Medical quickly flushing you with ice water as you break out in hives and wheezing.   It’s supposed to slow the reaction down and so the intern stands frowning at the ensuing full body shaking, wondering if it’s progressed to an anaphylactic phase.

Buck speaks up right away when you can’t answer through chattering teeth. “It’s hypothermia.  You’ve cooled her down too fast.”

“Hypothermia?!”

“Trust me. I’ve seen it.”  

You’d all laughed grimly about that one afterward.  Finally, finally there came the med that worked.   The one that you’ll take forever.  It’s literally saved your life but this miraculous godsend is not without its downside.  

It’s number one side effect is weight gain.

Your gaze falls on the forlorn heap of lycra.  Pretty. Flattering to your curvy figure that both guys love.  It shows off your assets perfectly.  

But is now probably four sizes smaller than you need.

Would it be too much for life to not pile this on you too???   You take a deep breath and try to regain some equilibrium.  You don’t want either Steve or Buck to worry—to think that you aren’t well—but this particular problem isn’t one they’ll have not thought much on before.  “No,” you answer slowly. “It’s not that, I feel ok.” Two sets of shoulders droop, relieved. “But I can’t go in winter clothes. And I have nothing that will fit.”    

This not the cry of a spoiled pampered thing who just wants something new. Literally nothing fits.  Not shorts or skirts. Your favourite capris won’t go past your hips.  The dresses don’t do up.  Even the light evening sweater that doesn’t need to meet in front has arms so tight you’d had to peal it off inside out.  

Utterly humiliating.  

And absolutely a real and present problem.  The East coast has its first summer heat wave early.  When you asked Jarvis that morning what the temperature was outside he’d responded,  “Sir says it’s not fit for man or dog.”  

“I have to cancel going.”

Steve rises and sets you lightly on your feet.  His jaw is set, face intense and determined, and you know he’s thinking ‘no’.  That you shouldn’t give in to this disease.  Let it get in the way of life unless it’s really necessary.  

“I can’t.”   You’re pleading.  Still smarting from the too-tight straps and feeling totally demoralized. Bucky reaches out to grasp your hand while Steve pads silently over to the giant walk-in closet, rummages for the lightest weight sweats you own, holding them out hopefully. You know Tony will be so bummed. He’ll mope.  And pout.  But you can’t face it.  Hiding inside or broiling outside alongside everyone in bathing suits will only make you feel more pathetic than you already do 

You shake your head at the fuzzy mass of grey.  “You go. They’re used to me missing things.  What’s one more weekend?”

Steve sees the certainty in your eyes and does not try to argue on that point but neither does he back down.  

“We’ve just got you back.  Are so, so grateful you are ok.   We just want to see you enjoying yourself again.”  

His eyes are dark like a midnight sea.  Bucky is nodding, setting the sweats aside and handing you your undies and loose shirt and generous jeans from where they were flung across a chair.   When you take them and slowly begin to dress he crosses his arms, a shaft of sun winking off the metal.  

“Not without you, doll.”  

Not fair.  Those are words he knows will work, go straight to the heart of the little triad you have built, and then Steve of course piles it on.   “That’s right.  You don’t go, we don’t go.  We are a team.”  

Amazing, remarkable, wondrous stubborn idiots.  They are awfully hard to cross when they gang up.  

Nervously, you smooth down your dark ponytail and take a steadying breath. “I know.  It’s just…”  

What?   Too hard?

You look at the two gorgeous and true men you are all but married to. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined you’d wind up here.   Assisting (and being a good friend to) Pepper Potts while she assists the world.  Living in Avengers Tower.   Smoothing out the rough between two lovers who have dared time and space to be together.   They need you so very much that they’ve taken a risk on something quite unorthodox, and though sometimes it makes you want to pinch yourself, lately you’ve just wanted wake up out of the nightmare.  Focusing on yourself.  And forgetting how much they sacrifice.  

Every day.  For everyone.

You swallow hard, trying to gather the shreds of your confidence and explain the lump that sits brooding on your chest.  “I didn’t anticipate this would happen.  Didn’t think ahead.”  

Steve smiles sadly, and you let him take you in his arms, kiss the top of your head and pull back to look sombrely down again.   “Y/N, you’ve been so strong.  So incredible.  And Buck and I have watched you wrestle with this thing, amazed.  Proud of your will to find a way.  It should have made you crazy long ago and I get it.  I do.  This feels like too much.  This one extra thing.”  

Your nodding, realizing that if anyone does understand it’s him. Steve lived with chronic illness.  Several of them in fact.  Asthma. Heart arrhythmia. Scoliosis. Anaemia.  Ulcers.  All of them had plagued him for most of the twenty-five years before the serum.

You’ve been in the fight for not even two.  

“But what am I going do?” you whisper a little mournfully.   If you have to you’ll wear your sweatpants.  Maybe you can cut them off?  Maybe you can cut the arms off your tops?  They’ll look hideous but you won’t broil like a lobster in a pot.  “Can we butcher something that already fits?”

“No, Y/N, not necessary.”  Steve checks his watch and glances to the lightweight packs stacked neatly by the door. “T minus six hours.  There’s lots of time.  I’m packed and so is Buck.  Betcha we can get you stuff and be back by two.”

“Stuff?”  Does he realize what he’s saying?  Four days worth of clothes?  When you need every little thing?

Bucky, curls in behind, chuckling at the incredulity in your tone. “We all can do it baby.  In record time.  And the one of us with taste will even help you pick outfits.”

“Hey!”  Steve, mock-affronted, swats him on the rear.  

From your safe spot in the middle of the sandwich you heave a sigh. Perhaps just a suit and top and shorts would be enough.  The weekend’s casual.  You can get away without a dress.  Survive being seen in the same clothes for days.  The guys do it on missions all the time and heck, Clint lives in black and purple. And Thor in red and silver.

Bucking up your courage, you scrub the wet from your cheeks and are about to acquiesce when something Steve said pings.  

It’s Bucky who is the clothes horse.  Knows his style.  Enjoys taking risks.  Steve is simpler.  He gravitates to clean lines, simple shirts and slacks.  Nothing flashy but he appreciates well made.

He’ll accept finer things that you bring him home but if it’s left to him—it’s online all the way.  

He loathes shopping.  

With the fiery passion of a hundred suns.  

“All?” you ask, incredulous.    

“Yup.  We are team. All three of us will help.”  Steve cocks his head and stares up to the ceiling. “Jarvis can you patch me through to Tony?”

“Right away Captain.”

From above, you catch Pepper’s clear, ringing tones behind Tony’s rapid-fire, just slightly high and excited baritone “Stark’s house of mojitos and margaritas. What’s up Rogers?  We’re pre-drinking here. I’m collecting the eye-watering Hawaiian shirts and Pepper’s making me put the new toys back.”  

“Anthony!”  Pepper is mortified.  You’re blushing and Bucky barks out a laugh.  Steve’s shaking his head and grinning ear to ear, but truthfully the thought of Tony Stark tinkering with items from Frisky Friday?  

Should make all of you a little scared.

“Tony do you still have that limo?”

“Of course I do, Captain Obvious.  Bentley’s Mulsanne for eight.  Tan leather.  Naim audio and bluetooth headphones.  Retrofitted with Stark screens of course.  Whhhyyyyyy?”  

The insatiably curious head of your group absolutely has to know.

Steve grins and pops a quick kiss on your nose.  “We need it.  We’re going on an emergency shopping trip.

The reaction from two floors up is immediate.  

“Holy shit!”

------------------------

Of course Tony calls ahead.  

You stand in the bright but not too intimidating plus size boutique attended by the solicitous and friendly owner.  She is very nice. You force yourself not to apologize, to not make excuses for your size.  It’s ridiculous.  Being not thin is not a crime.  Or a tragedy. Or even actually a choice but it is so hard to go against the conditioning of thirty years.  

Why are you letting all that crap get inside your head? Ridiculous.  Time to be positive and so you force yourself to relax and let yourself be waited on.    

The owner brings armloads of practical and pretty and flattering styles that mix and match—can be a basis to add to later.  For two hours Steve and Bucky sit in the ‘boyfriend chairs’ and help.. Steve has a black-one sugar coffee, Bucky has a latte and his phone is in his hand. He’s helpfully checking for the latest styles..offering opinions as you come out and model each new thing.   They’re both laughing and joking, trash talking each other’s sense of style and seemingly enjoying the experience as you try on an entire wardrobe.  Two bathing suits, two shorts, navy capris, four tops, one light coverup and two sundresses.   In basic colours that all go together and will get you at least through a week with washing once.

“That’s enough,” you insist, feeling a bit tired and hot from all the changing, wondering what the damage to your credit card will be.  You haven’t worked since all this landed down.  And though Stark Industries has great disability insurance, you feel like you shouldn’t go too nuts.

“But you should have one tank, I think” the owner adds, frowning thoughtfully at all the cap-sleeved tees.  “In case there is a day that is very hot.”

Hmm. She has a point.  The weekend is slated to go from broiling to thermonuclear, but you’d steered away from thinner straps, a little worried at how they’d look.

“Go for it, Y/N!”  Bucky enthuses and Steve nods encouragingly and so you warily take a few wider banded versions into the dressing room.  Tug them down over your head, prepared for a pair of hastily stifled frowns.  

The reaction you get is not what you expect.    

Steve’s frowning, concentrating seriously like you’ve never seen, asessing the three different combinations like the fate of the world is riding on this choice. Finally he speaks up.  “I really like that one.”

You turn to give yourself a better view in the three way mirror.  The actually super comfortable white shorts have a broad waistband that flexes gently and doesn’t bind.  They’re topped by a just slightly flared, surprisingly flattering tank in black with grey overstitching.   Modern and sleek, it moves with you–and as you move Steve’s nodding.  

You glance back at Buck.  His head is tilted, long hair falling across his face as he peruses the combo with as much consideration as he gives a gun.  Which means serious consideration.  “The shape is great, Y/N, but the colour isn’t right.”  He rises up and heads unerringly for the rack it came from, picking out the same top in pale shell pink and walking back, holding it up against your shoulder.  “I think this is better against your colouring.“

You’re amazed.  Now that is getting into the spirit of the thing but still you bite your lip, thinking black is more neutral, but what do you have to lose? Why not try?

When you return and show it off, Steve smiles and the owner looks admiringly at Bucky and nods her head. “You are exactly right Mr. Barnes and pink is this summer’s colour.”

He is right, it’s a warmer tone and makes your skin look less sallow.  You feel better in it.  Surprisingly.  The top goes into the keep pile and Bucky grins, sitting down and stretching out, lacing his hands behind his head and making a face at Steve as if to say ‘I’m not the one to steer you wrong.’  

The gesture gets Steve’s dander up.  The game is on, and no one, no one, gets more competitive then Steve Rogers when he is the mood.  

“Try this…”  

Oh my god he’s actually picked up a sheerly pretty, ice blue strappy top from a rack, the dainty hanger looking hilariously tiny in his massive hands.   Can you wear something that—delicate?   Your brain had been kind of thinking of a heavier cover up….  

“Try it baby.”  He looks so sure of himself and Bucky’s nodding encouragingly and the owner is saying how the only rule is ‘do you like it?” and so you put it on.  The slightly ruffled asymmetric edges look sexy and cool against jean shorts and all of you agree---- it and the shorts are perfect.  

Both are to be kept but then Bucky will not be outdone.  He stalks around the shop, metal fingers quickly riffling through the wares, obviously searching for something exactly right.  

The owner hovers politely just behind.  “Mr. Barnes? Can I help.”

“Bucky,” he answers automatically.  “Nope. I will know it when I see it. 

Finally he pulls out a complicated looking fall of pale leaf green and holds it up.   It’s gorgeous.  And absolutely sexy.  A halter top that falls softly to a just slightly fuller base.   With an oval opening in the back and cut-out, slightly gathered sleeves that will leave your shoulders and upper arms quite spectacularly bare.  

You shake your head.  “I can’t.”  

“It will be perfect with your eyes.”  He’s right on that—it will bring the green highlights in your hazel eyes to life, but it’s seems waaay too revealing.  Your upper arms aren’t toned.  Your collarbones don’t show.  Your…

“Y/N?”  Steve rises and slides over to give your shoulders a quick reassuring squeeze.   His ocean eyes are pleading like a puppy dog’s.  “Please?  I’d love to see you in it.”

How can you resist both of them?

Cautiously you come back out and give a little twirl.  It’s flirty and sexy and both guys’ eyes light up right away.  

“Wow.”  

Their comment is in unison.  It is really, really nice, flirty and soft and it makes you even feel a little sexy.  Steve says he also loves the blocky heeled, buff sandals the owner has paired it with.  Bucky is raving about the stretch skinny jeans.  You frown at the size of the ‘keep’ pile.  

It’s growing.  The owner has suggested a really workable set of combinations and there is even a silky printed scarf to give one dress a little bling for evening.  

The thought of the bill is a little daunting but you do need longer pants if one evening turns out cool…

Bucky leans back in the chair and confidently crosses his arms across his chest.  “Buy it all, Y/N.”   Steve nods and gives you one of his precious sunrise smiles.   “We’re a team.  We’ll divide the bill up equally.  Don’t stint yourself.”  

That is so considerate and so very generous.  “You don’t need to…” you begin, but Steve cuts you off.   “We do.  We want you to feel comfortable and relaxed in what you wear, too feel confident.   We can afford it,” he adds and Bucky laughs. 

“Easily.  All he ever buys is paint and vinyl records.”

Steve rolls his eyes.  “And all he ever buys is knives and books.”  

True.  But not necessarily a reason for them to spoil you.  

Bucky turns and takes your hand in his metal one, raises it to his lips and plants a kiss, cementing the argument with one last, cajoling grin.  “After all you’ve been through don’t you think you deserve a treat?”  

Your heart melts a little bit.  Well. Then.  

The loot is packaged up and rung through while you change into a sundress and leave the baggy sweats behind.

Outside the limousine driver nods appreciatively when you climb into the butter soft back seats with what feels like a mountain of tissue-covered packages.  It’s Barry. The soft spoken, grey bearded gentleman who had taken you to the rare doctor visits neither Steve or Buck could attend.  

“Miss Y/N, you look lovely. So nice to see you looking well.”  

Wow.

“Did you pay him?” you hiss to Bucky as you follow a laden Steve up into to the steel cocoon of the private elevator.

“Nope, doll, I sure didn’t.”

-------

Once you are ensconced back in your room again, the guys go off to see if Pepper needs any help while you take another run at packing.  There’s no time to triage.  All the small things that don’t fit are unceremoniously bundled by the armload and stuffed into bags to store.  You set the small suitcase on the bed and start to transfer the new items in.  Dresses and pants on the bottom.  Tops and shorts and smalls rolled up to make up space.  Your toiletries go next.  And then your meds.  Six pills a day on top of the injection.  It comes with its own travel pack—freezer bag to keep it cool, mini disposal for the cartridges.  You tuck in your flip flops and eye the new sandals that Steve liked so much.  Should you bring them?  Will there be a chance to wear them?  Can you walk in heels for long after a year of bunny slippers 

Will anyone notice with Nat’s and Maria’s killer bodies in swimsuits?  

With Pepper in her perfect three inch heels?  

Who are you kidding?  They are all so gorgeous and thin and fit and you are white like a beluga whale. Of course all of them will be so nice, will go out of their way to make positive, encouraging remarks.  Of course Thor, oblivious, will make booming allusions to some obscure ancient goddess of fertility. Of course Tony, overcompensating, will ridiculously call you Marilyn, and Raquel and.. and…

Your courage throws a wobbly.  

You are wearing the new sundress with the yellow print.  It’s presentable and even pretty but turning now in front of the long length mirror that you’ve avoided looking in for months, you see it.  

The rolls that dip and dive along your back.  The bow outward of the bodice where your stomach sags.  Even with this being size XL. 

Dissolving onto the nearby bench, you place your hands across your face and struggle not to cry.  You love the Stark Beach House.  It was actually the place you first realized the months long flirtation with the Avengers’ supersoldiers was more than a bit of harmless fun.  Under hazy stars and moon, the softest of night breezes, you’d raised your cocktail to your lips and caught their eyes meet in glance.  Accept the truth.  Find the courage to admit.

They’d fallen.  For you, just as you had for them, and no matter how complicated, how messy it is to be three they wanted this.  The whole world knew Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are an item.  Indivisible and forged like steel by the vicissitudes of life. It just didn’t know they felt incomplete without a third.  Someone softer.   Who could fill in the chips and hollows, let them focus on something other than themselves. 

One different man came out of Greenland’s ice.  

One different man came out of Siberia’s wastes.  

Both of them understand in their DNA how hard it is to start again. That you are mourning.  For a life that is irrevocably changed.   No one’s breathed a word of you returning to work as yet but you know it will be hard.  Some mornings you’ve staggered into the common room, dopey from the night time meds and poured coffee into your orange juice.   Some weeks doctor visits and movies dates are equally lost in fog.  

Steve says not to worry, take baby steps, understand that pain builds fatigue and fatigue leads to forgetfulness but then you think of the insanely together, curvy woman with the photographic memory and talent for keeping track of every tiny detail.

Gone.  

You will never be that woman again..

You hang your head and cry.

-------------

  “Y/N?!”  

It’s Bucky.  He’s walking in, probably coming to see how soon you will be done and it doesn’t help. “I’m sorry. Sorry..I just…”  

He’s leaning over your half-zipped bag, biting his lip, one tendril of sable hair sweeping across his cheek.  Perfect dimple and chiselled jaw darkened by just a day or so of stubble.  

The sight catches at your breath.  

How?  How could so gorgeous, sexy a man want me??   How could Steve?  Painted golden as a perfect sunrise.  Inside and out.

The tears leak out again.  

Confused, surprised, you think, at the waterworks. Bucky straightens up.  “Baby what’s wrong?”  

You wave your hands at your body.  “You can’t find me attractive like this!   You both are so perfect and I look so…“  

Fat.  

The word is clinically quite simple but in practise it is so complicated. All too often meant to demean.  Trolls on the internet toss it negligently when they want to put someone down. ‘Fat slob.’ “Cow.’  ‘Porky’ may be gentler but the message is the same.  Appearance is all.    As if weight happens because you’re slovenly.  Or stupid.  Or worth less than someone else.  

It is so wrong but thinking judgementally is very so hard to banish when you’ve been bombarded by it for almost thirty years 

“Different..?”   Bucky’s eyebrows crash together into a familiar line of hurt.  “Y/N is that what you think our love is about?”  

“No. No!!’ you exclaim, mortified.  “I know you love me. I just..”  A little voice inside your head says ‘be honest. It’s the only way this will work.’

“I don’t want you to want me any less.”  

There.  You’ve said it.  In a whisper because it feels so unworthy.  Insignificant, when they’ve fought so hard to be together.  

But this worry has been clawing like a rat at your brain since the day you stopped being in so much pain.

Before nothing mattered but relief.  Now you feel better.  Mostly. You should want your guys, and the days you don’t feel so crap you sort of do.  

But there has been no sign of anything other than care and concern from them.  

Bucky’s face is a kaleidoscope of emotions.  Unsure of what he’ll do, you hold your breath, watch him sigh and cross over to the door. “Stevie, pal, can you come here?”  

He walks back to you with the saddest smile.  Warm and cool fingers hold your cheeks as he leans down to place a kiss upon your brow.   Hands glide down to rest upon your shoulders--the metal one, thanks to Shuri’s tech, barely heavier than the right.  

“Nothing.  Nothing could ever make me love you or want you any less.  Nothing.”  Bucky punctuates each word with a little shake.  “Wasn’t I the one who first noticed that exuberant, sexy smile?  Convinced Steve to take a chance?”  

You nod hesitantly.  He had been, and flirted too.  Hilariously. Brazenly.  You’d been so shocked.  It wasn’t until Steve ‘my tongue ties when I have to talk to women’ Rogers was enthralled, quizzing you about your peripatetic upbringing as unofficial assistant to globe-trotting famous scientist parents that you accepted it might be real.  He had touched your arm so casually and easily, fingers brushing lingeringly as he passed over a new drink, smile quirking just a touch seductively.

Magic.  And utterly irresistible.

It felt a lifetime between then and now, but in truth it was just three years.  

Steve arrives, exchanges an almost telepathic glance with Buck and quickly picks up the gist, reads the situation like a book as only he can do.  He leans in to hold his hand against your cheek, while the other cradles loosely at Bucky’s waist.  “You look beautiful.  And edible…” The feather touch wills a little of his certainty to seep in.  “Y/N, what makes you think that only one size is sexy?”  The genuinely bewildered tone usually reserved for odd parts of disco culture comes out.  This is one of the things that gets Steve’s dander up.  Disappoints him that it hasn’t progressed after seventy years of nap.  “That is flat out wrong.   Bigger or smaller, anything outside the ‘norm’ is bad. It’s crap.”

“Girls don’t get criticized for being skinny,” you blurt, not quick enough to block it in.  You flush, but in your defense.. it is true.  “There is no such thing as too thin for the magazines.”

“Screw the magazines,” Mr. ‘fight me’ growls.  “No one should be criticized for their body shape.”  

Bucky’s nodding.  “It is so demeaning.  In our time girls were made to feel inadequate for not being built like Rita Hayworth.  Flat chested was considered a disaster.  Guys were ragged on if they weren’t built like George Atlas.”  His gaze turns serious and he pulls you little circle closer, prosthetic hand tight on Steve’s shoulder, hair swaying back and forth as he vigorously shakes his head.  “That just isn’t how attraction works.  I have loved and wanted Steve since he was tiny as a matchstick.  So emaciated his hip bones fucking hurt when we were fucking.”

You gasp at the explicitness of the imagery.  Oh lord.  Yes that paints a picture.  Bucky grins and looks adoringly up at his boyfriend.  “I wanted him anyway.”

Steve drops a searingly hot kiss onto Buck’s lips before tearing his own away.  “You did.   Every day and twice on Sundays.”

This is not an earth-shattering revelation.  Bucky is the one with the raging libido.  ‘Hair trigger’ describes pretty much every part of him and honestly, you’d been too.   Before.  It was Steve who sometimes had too much in his head to play. Could not let the day’s anxieties quite go.  Wound himself in strategy until it took two to pull him down—a lion and lioness on their prey.  

The pair of them sexy snarking once again feels so good.  It’s been on hard mute of late.  

Steve runs a thumb thoughtfully across your lower lip.   “He loved and wanted me.  As I was..  Just like I love him for him.  And love you for you.”  The thumb trails down and deliberately runs along your collarbone, leaving precious, welcome little shivers in its wake.  “Y/N you are so sexy.  In every way. Every bit of you.  There is nothing to be unsure about.  You— curvy as you are,   you are perfect.   If we’ve held back from showing you, it’s because we didn’t want to pressure you into something if you weren’t ready.”  

Of course he has it exactly right.  Before, the constant pain and migraines had demolished your libido.  Constant worrying about you had killed theirs.  Bucky takes a deeper breath, leans in to leave a trail of butterfly kisses on your shoulder.  “I’m sorry we didn’t speak up sooner.  There is no way that you could look that would stop us wanting you.”    

He is reading your mind again—seeing that you worry your condition will change with time.  Relapse. It’s hard to entirely banish that fear.   “I’m not gonna go back the way I was,” you say forlornly.  

Steve hums and buzzes a sympathetic kiss upon your neck.  “Mhmmm.  The drug’s changed your metabolism… My serum won’t change either. Or Buck’s.”

“Don’t be so sure with Hydra tech,” Bucky mutters below his breath and Steve rolls his eyes expressively.   “The point is our change is permanent too.”

“But that’s not the same!”  You’re trying to not let your mouth hang wide open.  “You are both perfect since your change.  You’re gorgeous!”  

“So are you.”  Steve punctuates each word with a kiss.  “I get it, sweetheart, I really do. I don’t always love this body either.  Sometimes it just feels like a freak show, but I’ve learned to accept it’s me.”  

Steve? A freak?  This is not an adjective you associate him with.  He’s gorgeous.  Stunning. A perfect specimen of masculinity and that he wouldn’t be utterly thrilled to step into a machine and come out magically a new man has never occurred to you.  You know it hurt.  That he suffered for it.  But the change was absolutely for the better.

“But you’re strong?  And healthy now?!” you exclaim.

“Yes, and god knows it’s better than being sick all of the damn time but it isn’t me. In my head I’m still the matchstick.  There are days when I get caught off guard.  Feel big and clumsy.  And it’s not always such a thrill.”  He pulls a pouty face.  “Can’t turn off the heat that makes you two cuddle on the other side of the bed without me.”  

Bucky bumps him in the hip.  “Awww.  Rogers, you are such a sap.”  

“Unh hunh, well I’m your sap, pal. Forever.”  Steve reaches across your shoulder to kiss Buck’s cheek but then his eyes darken seriously.  “I am hungry all the goddamn time.  And it’s a crazy waste of money to buy custom everything.  Even T-shirts for crissake.”

That makes you smile.  It’s hard to take the frugal Irish boy of the Depression out of the modern man. “I kinda like it when you don’t and wear them a little tight.”  

Bucky grins and nods.  “And your pants.”   It is Steve’s turn to bump playfully at his boyfriend’s hip. “What?” Bucky’s eyes are wide and innocent.  He turns to you and becomes more serious, letting go Steve’s waist, turning his metal hand and flexing the matt black plates.  “I get it, too.  It is not easy to become used to looking different.  Took me ages to accept my arm.”   You nod a little hesitantly. You were not there when he first came back, broke his conditioning to seek out the man he loved, beyond time and all the cycles of the world. “I wanted to hack this thing right off.  Felt as if it wasn’t me.  I still catch myself in the mirror, seeing that, despite Shuri’s good work, I’m half a cyborg with a mass of scars.”  His tone turns low and serious.  “Do you find my naked body unattractive?”  

You gasp, appalled, reaching to catch his hand.  “No! Oh god, Buck no! It’s sexy as hell.  And your scars, they’re badges of bravery!”  

His eyebrow quirks.  “Yeah, love you babe for saying so but let’s be real.  I am a mass of metal and red keloid scar tissue.  Lots of it.  It’s not exactly conventional beauty pitched in the papers or TV.”  His flesh fingers dig into the junction of the prosthesis with his pec. “The internal struts at one time went in here.  The Wakandan version is far lighter and easier but I feel it still.“  

“Buck.”   Steve’s reaches to squeeze his left bicep as Bucky sighs and then his eyes drop to catch your gaze. “It’s taken a lot of time for me to feel it’s a part of me. Accept that I am sexy with it.  Give yourself time.  You will feel it too.  There is no one size or shape for sexy.”

Steve is nodding.  “There sure isn’t.  You both look beautiful.  And I love you beyond reasoning.”  He holds your hand but leans toward Bucky, wanting to support him too.   There’s just a hint of mischevious glitter in blue eyes and his voice is rough with sudden desire. ’I remember the feel of your left arm.  But I love the one that is here right now. ”  

You watch them kiss.  Soft lips meet at first gently and then hungrily, deepening the kiss until it is a barely reigned flame of need.  So enticing. And arousing.  As always the sight leaves you breathless.  The black and gold of the prosthesis is cool below your fingertips and little arcs of light sparkle in the pale gold of Steve’s soft hair.    

They were first.  The foundation.  But you are here now, a solid point of the triangle, and you know it, yet sometimes, as now, you feel the need to let them be.   They’ve been holding off because of you, and you’re uncertain you feel ready for attention yet.  

As you start to slip below the circle of their arms, a hand snakes out.

“No, no, no. Don’t you go anywhere, Y/N.”  Bucky has broken off their kiss, moved lightening quick to cut you off.  He turns your shoulders to face Steve, runs a hand encouragingly along your arm, lacing your fingers in his own.  Steve is smiling, slow and sultry, right at you, a wall of blast-furnace warm and sexy muscle, wedged almost touching right in front.  

Your body sings.  It remembers this, being caught between dark fire and golden glow.  Celebrated.  Revered. Taken to dizzying heights and a now melting grows in your core that you haven’t felt for months.

Perhaps it is that they are right.  You can, in time, adjust.  

And they will show you every hour of every day how much they love all of the woman that you are.

You let yourself fall back upon the bed when a hand with freckled pushes gently on your chest.  So many hands.  Pale. Black-gold.  Irish fair and English tawny warm.  Somehow Bucky has caught you as you fall.  Your head is in his lap.  His blue-green eyes are sparkling just above and one hand is palming, lightly, gently, at the nipple peaked below your dress.  It feels right.  And good. Home, after too long away, and then Steve crawls up the bed, lays himself warm and pliant between your legs. Grinning broadly, excitement glowing in his gaze.  His hands lift the cotton of the hem, ruch the pale yellow flowers up to see a view of your new lemon thong.  

A blond eyebrow raises. “T-2 hours before we go.  Time enough to change into another pretty dress?”

Oh god.  

“Yes.”  

So yes.  

----------------

tags: @winters-beauty @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan  @theycallmebecca @mewsiex@emilyevanston @mycapt-ohcapt  @pegasusdragontiger  @badassbaker @heather-lynn @saffreelove @loricameback @nomadicpixel@missfirstavenger @prplprincez @marvel-lucy

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Canadian Girl

Chapter Six

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC  | Word Count: 2701 Warnings: Fluff, Mild Violence, Stereotyping of Canadians (I'm allowed, I am one)

Three days later when the quinjet landed, Kennedy was skating on the pond. She was alone. Matt and Jesse had gone inside when her mood had proven foul.

Everyone had been home when she’d made her impromptu arrival three days ago, appearing on the doorstep with nothing but the clothes on her back.

The family all lived together, still, in the mansion of a farmhouse, her grandfather had built. It was so damn big one could go the whole day without seeing another soul if they wanted to. Or, as they had been when she'd arrived, they could all be together in the living room, watching the game.

It had been nothing to go back to her apartment, scoop up her passport, and catch a cab to the airport. She’d been home and crying on her mother’s shoulder within hours, soothed by her dad’s tight embrace, and comforted by her brothers. All who now wanted to kick one super soldier’s ass. Which, really wouldn’t go well for any of them. The family rallied around her and had been making plans to have a big family dinner so everyone could have a visit with her before she went back to New York.

If she went back to New York.

Hockey stick in hand, she’d been putting pucks into the net with vicious accuracy. Hard slap and score. Each one perfect when he arrived. So what if the last one may have missed by a good foot to, maybe, careen off the windshield of the quinjet right where Captain America’s head happened to be. Not like it would go through or anything. But his glare was easy to see behind the glass. It gave her a deep sense of satisfaction.

When he exited the jet shield first, she had to fight not to snicker.

Straightening up, she skated backwards away from the snow bank and the bench with her boots to stand in the middle of the pond, watching as he walked cautiously towards her through the snow, carrying his shield at his side. “Rogers.”

“Am I going to need this, Kennedy?” he asked, tapping the red and blue shield.

“Out of pucks at the moment, but I do have a mean cross-check,” she stated, shifting the grip on her hockey stick.

“I’ll take my chances.” Placing the shield down by her boots, he tucked his hands into his pockets. “Cold up here.”

She snorted and skated in a circle. “It’s minus ten. Celsius. You haven’t seen cold yet. Winter’s just getting started. What do you want, Rogers?”

“You.”

She kicked up her speed, aware his eyes were glued to her as she glided over the ice. Making a hard turn, she skated right for him, turned sideways and dug in, spraying ice all up his front.

Wiping the slush from his face, he nodded slowly. “Alright, I deserved that.”

Without a second thought, she cross-checked him hard in the chest, sending him over backwards into the snowbank.

“But not that!” he barked.

Leaning on her stick, she just stared down at him and shook her head. “Just had to be Captain freaking America.” Holding out her hand, Kennedy motioned him to his feet.

His hand closed around her heavy glove, and she helped heave him back up.

“What are you made of? Lead?”

“Just a whole lot of muscle, doll,” he said, dusting the snow from his backside.

She found herself face-to-face with him thanks to the blades of her skates. His blue eyes were so vivid, so clear. They said so much without him needing to say anything.

“Look, Kennedy, can we talk?”

Tilting her head, Kennedy ignored the question. “Can you skate, Rogers?” She could see the frustration on his face, but pulled away, heading for the bin on the other end of the bench, spearing the end of her stick into the snowbank as she went by. “Size eleven?”

“Yeah.” His tone was decidedly unhappy.

Throwing the lid up, she leaned over the bin, digging for the skates with the blue laces. Those were Danny's. They should fit Steven fine. When they proved elusive, her cousin had not been out to play a game for a while, apparently, she leaned all the way over and let her feet lift from the ice.

“Ha! There you are,” she crowed and disappeared headfirst into the bin.

His hands were suddenly on her hips, but she was in no danger of going over.

“Kennedy, I really think–”

Her feet hit the ground, and she slapped the skates to his chest. “Skates on, Rogers. Then we’ll talk.”

Kennedy pushed past him out onto the ice, keeping warm as he took a hard look at the skates before taking his boots off and jamming his feet into them. They were going to be cold, really cold, and she smiled a little, feeling vindictive.

The ice gave her the freedom to move without the ability to escape. She wanted to talk but didn’t want to be stationary while she did it.

He wobbled when he stood, hands shooting out to keep his balance. He looked a little stiff, and she skated closer.  

“You okay there, Cap?” she asked. “You could have said no when I asked if you could skate.” Chucking her gloves towards her boots, she held out her hands for him to take.

His were warm and callused. Strong. A real masculine pair of hands.

They reminded her of her dad’s hands. A working man’s hands.

“I can skate. It’s just been a really long time.” He said softly. “And these ain’t exactly what I used when I was a kid. Plus they’re really cold, doc.”

Skating backwards, she snickered as she gave his hands a tug. “One foot at a time, Captain.”

She pushed off, and he followed, his face clearing of the pout he was sporting when he realized it wasn’t as hard as he’d thought. Saying nothing, she led him around the pond, helping him find his rhythm.

His eyes drifted up to her toque, the same one he’d stolen from her head before, tracing down to take in the jeans which covered her legs, and the puffy, sky blue coat keeping her torso warm.

“I preferred it when you called me Steven,” he said. “I went to your place in the city. Your neighbour said you went home. To your parent’s ranch. In Canada.”

It sounded so much like a pouting child’s accusation, Kennedy gave a small smile. “Annie never could keep a secret. Did she shriek when she saw you?”

“Nearly broke my eardrums,” Steve said. “She’s a huge fan.” He eyed her carefully as he asked, “How can you have a neighbour like her and not know who I was?”

“You do remember that I’m Canadian, right? I hate to break it to you, but you’re not our super soldier. As for my neighbour, I never paid attention to who or what Annie babbled on about. We really only know each other in passing, take care of each other's plants when away kind of thing. And, in the last few years,” she flicked her fingers at the wide open sky and the mountains which rose around them. “Why would I watch TV or read a newspaper when I had this to play in. Plus, there was school and all that entailed. Work and research and my job. Weekends were spent with the family or working the ranch and, yeah, I may have been aware of everything that was happening in the world but…” she looked out at the mountains. “It seemed very far removed.” Until it wasn’t.

“And once you got to New York?” he asked quietly. “You were working on the serum, my serum. How could you not know who I was?”

“Steven, I needed your blood and your DNA. I didn’t need to know what your face looked like. I’ve seen pictures of you as Cap, the suit and the mask, but… it really wasn’t important to me. I was focused on figuring out the serum. Spent three years with my face in a notebook or my eyes behind a microscope. Heck, I nearly walked into you six times never realizing it was the same person until you said something.”

“Three times,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“It was three times. The other three I may have… set up.”

She stopped in the middle of the pond. “You set yourself up to get walked into by me? Why?”

His eyes darted away, and red darkened his face.

“Steven?”

“Because… I saw you around the Tower and thought you were one beautiful dame. But you were always head down in a book, never noticed the men that drooled at your heels. I couldn’t seem to find an opportunity to just talk to you. Then you nearly walked into me a couple times and I... found an opening. Took a little conniving, but it worked.”

He looked so darn bashful and shy, and he was giving her the puppy eyes again. It hurt her heart to look at him.

Letting go of his hands, she turned and skated away. Halting only to tilt her face to the sun on the far side of the pond, she sighed, listening to the approaching scrape of skate blades.

“I get it, what you did. I understand wanting to remain a little anonymous after everything you’ve gone through. How it must be nice to have someone just talk to you without all the hero worship.” Her mother had been the one to take his side, make her see things from his point of view; to her father’s consternation. “I did my research these last few days.” And worked through a host of her own insecurities. “Captain Steven Grant Rogers, the first Avenger. You really are everywhere online. Guess I should have paid more attention to Annie when she rambled on about the blue-eyed, blond beefcake who wandered Stark Tower.” She laughed a self-deprecating sound. “I have an IQ that could rival the likes of Iron Man himself, but I couldn’t figure out the man I’d grown so fond of was a damn Avenger.”

“Does that make a difference? The Avenger part?” he asked nervously.

“Yes and no.” Sighing, she turned to face him. “I know that you’re no different than you were four weeks ago just because I know who you are now. You’re still the same man, but I don’t like guns, Steven. I really don’t like guns. I know if I were to start a relationship with you, someday, someone would eventually shoot at me.”

“Kennedy, I can’t promise that will never happen.  Any relationship an Avenger has could, eventually, be used against them, putting their loved ones in danger. But I would do everything I could to see you protected.”

“I know you would. I know that.” She started skating again, needing to move, closing her hands over her arms. They were cold now with the lack of his body heat. “There are… things… I haven’t told you about me. Things that may make you change your mind about that.”

“Kennedy.”

He snagged her sleeve and pulled her hard into his body, nearly taking them both to the ice. Once he seemed certain they weren’t going to go crashing to the ground, he wrapped her tight in his arms. “I don’t care about things. I care about you. And just to make one thing perfectly clear, you, doll, are damn gorgeous. To me, you are the epitome of female beauty.”

She stared at him with her mouth open for a full five seconds before reacting. “Shut up, Rogers!” she gasped, punching him in the shoulder. “You’re so full of it!”

His entire countenance darkened, and she found herself face-to-face with what had to be his Captain America persona. “You forget, doll, this is not my era. I didn’t grow up with the skewed view portrayed in the media of stick thin women or ones who are overly fit. Sure Nat’s nice looking, but she’s not you, Kennedy.”

He dragged down the zipper on her coat, hands diving inside, squeezing her waist. “Women in my era were soft, curved, and feminine.”

His hands wandered her hips, and he skimmed them up her ribcage to rub his thumbs over the edge of her breasts. “You have nothing to be insecure about. Your body is… perfect,” he stated, eyes appreciative and honesty radiating in the words.

“Holy crap,” she moaned when his arm went behind her, the other hand sliding up to cup her cheek. “Steven…”

“Can I kiss you, Kennedy?”

She was surprised he’d asked, having kissed her without doing so the first time. One look at his face, however, had her remembering the way he was always such a gentleman. Holding doors, pulling out chairs. Perhaps that first kiss had been a deviation of the norm for him. Either way, she didn’t care.

He was so close that even through his coat, one much thinner than her own, she could feel the excess heat which poured from his body.

It warmed her as she clasped her hand to the back of his neck. “You’d better, Cap.” If it was the last time she got the chance, she was going to take it with gusto.

His mouth closed over hers and Kennedy moaned. He possessed her mouth, licked at it, and slipped his tongue between her lips when hers parted on a breathy sigh.

The sinuous twine of his tongue kicked all the way to Kennedy’s core, sending heat rippling through her. A shockwave of sensation shook her to the bones. It definitely wasn't the sweet, soft kiss of last time.

Sinking his fingers into her hair, he knocked her hat free, dragging her head back to suck on the skin beneath her ear, directly against her tattoo. The feather which floated in dark ink on her flesh was licked and kissed, causing her breath to catch and release on a soft moan.

“Will you be my girl, Kennedy?”

“Maybe,” she breathed out. “But… Steven, I have to tell you something. It might make you change your mind.”

His mouth was working the sensitive skin of her throat.

She shuddered, hardly able to think when he did that.

“Okay.” He lifted his head reluctantly. “Tell me this horrible secret, Kennedy.”

“I…” The words stuck in her throat, and she bit her lip. “Let’s get these skates off first.”

He didn’t let go. For a moment she was afraid he was going to keep her there until she told him, but eventually, after a deep search of her eyes, he released her, and they skated back to the bench.

Flopping down, Kennedy was quick out of her skates, Steve not far behind. She wiggled her toes before shoving her feet into her cold boots. “Ugh, I’m going to feel that tomorrow.”

“How long you been out here?” Steve asked.

“Couple hours. Taking shots at the net makes for good frustration release.” She may not like exercise, but hockey just didn’t count as exercise. Hockey was hockey. She threw both pairs of skates and her gloves back in the bin.

“Remind me to tell Fury that when he growls about the chip in the quinjet’s windshield.”

Snickering, Kennedy did her jacket back up. Her toque was still in the middle of the pond, sending her sliding across the ice in her boots to retrieve it. “You also deserved that.”

Shaking his head, Steve stomped on his shield and had it slide up his arm. “I’ll make sure he knows.”

Before she could reply, the whistling sound that filled the air made her frown. It was an odd sound, not something she’d ever heard on the ranch before. When Steve plowed into her, taking her to the ground, sending them sliding over the ice and down behind his shield, she was even more confused.

Until the bullets bounced off the vibranium.

“Shit! Kennedy! You alright?” he hollered over the pinging sound of metal-on-metal.

It was completely unreal. Un-freaking-believable! “Damn it, Steven! Not even five minutes after you kiss me, and someone is shooting at us!”

It was almost comical. Almost.

Next Chapter

[lostinamazon]

You can't say you hadn't see that coming. You're not surprised. You saw the signs maybe even before Kara did.  Hell, even before Maggie and that's saying something. She's your little sister, after all. Your best best friend, your family, your hero. You know Kara like the back of your hand, she always wore her heart on her sleeve, her emotions easily readable through her facial expressions and body language.  And she can't hide the fact that she's completely in love with Lena Luthor. Not anymore. But of course, you already knew that. . "Clark's in National City!" You look up just in time to see Kara sliding inside your lab, her red cape flowing graciously behind her and you try to stifle a laugh when you notice she's trying her best to not start jumping up and down in excitement.  "Yeah, I know, I just saw him outside remember?" You respond with a light chuckle. "And I still think he s-" "Stop talking about my cousin's smell!" Kara quickly cuts you. "He asked me to help him, can you believe that? I'll visit Lena Luthor with him later to see if she had anything to do with the Venture explosion." You frown at that because... well, you don't exactly trust the Luthors. You were there when Lex tried to kill Superman for the last time almost three years ago with the blade made of kryptonite, his war suit making him almost as strong as Clark. Fortunately, the DEO was there and they managed to get him in jail for the rest of his miserable life.  But still, your sister was Supergirl and there was a Luthor in the city. Of course you were worried.  "Just be careful, okay?"  Kara smiled and kissed your cheek. "Always." Then she walked out. Later that evening she texted you saying that apparently Lena was clear, and she had a feeling the young woman was really just looking for a fresh start for herself and her company. Plus, she was really pretty. Agent Danvers [18:46]: And how does that make her innocent?  Lil' Sis [18:47]: It doesn't! It was just a comment, Rao... You only roll your eyes at your sister. . Lena Luthor shot Corben to save your life. So not a villain. Maybe. Kara decided to become a reporter and you're very happy for your sister, because you know she can't be a superhero 24/7, and the whole gang celebrates her first article about the Luthor alien detection device with a special Game Night. "She talked about Lex today." Kara says after you both start to clean her kitchen.  "What?" You raise your eyebrow at Kara from your spot at the sink. "Lena. I went to visit her at her office." You see the way she bites her bottom lip nervously, as if waiting for you to yell at her for going there, but when you don't, she keeps saying, "She was adopted too. She said Lex was such a good brother and now... she looks so lonely." You don't say anything because you don't now what to say. Kara has always taken people's burdens as her own, but this time you realize it hits very close to home. Then she smiles and suprises you with a tight hug. "Thank you for being such a incredible big sister!"  . For the next couple of weeks you don't have too much time to think about Lena Luthor, and about how Kara was right when she said she was very pretty, because you already have too much in your hands trying to get the alien fight club down with another pretty girl.  Wait. You didn't mean that. Detective Maggie Sawyer was insufferable! Completely insufferable... and okay maybe a little pretty, but only a little! You're surprised when Kara says she asked for Lena's help to get the next fight club location, because you still don't know how to feel about Lex's sister. You don't think she's a threat but she's still a Luthor.  But then again, you have all those new feelings inside you and you need to talk with your sister about how lost you are and about how you think you're in lo- And Lena Luthor gets in your way. Again. And... maybe you're not as straight as you think you were, but did you just spot the gay in Lena's eyes as she glared at you? "She's my sister." Kara says and Lena visibly relaxes when she looks back at your sister with soft eyes. You're so silly.  Just because you realized you're a lesbian it doesn't mean every woman you'll meet is too.  After that, you're very glad to hear from Winn that Lena saved everyone's asses (including Kara's) with her field generator. He and Kara keep gushing on and on about how smart and brave and pretty she was in that black dress and you pretend you didn't see the way they blushed after agreeing to that.  You also pretend you're not heartbroken because you didn't get the girl, but that's just life. . You totally get girl. You're here and you're queer and you've never felt so happy in your entire life because you have a girlfriend! A very hot and very badass girlfriend. You walk in Kara's apartment without knocking like you usually do to give her the news, but she's not expecting you like she usually is after hearing your familiar heartbeat from the corner of the street. She's distracted as she types away a text on her phone, giggling when she reads the response. "Kara?" She suddenly looks at you with widen eyes.  "Alex! I didn't hear you coming." She pats the spot beside her and you move to sit there as Kara types something quick in her phone with a small smile, before leaving it on the coffee table. "Who were you texting?" You ask with a smirk because you know your sister and her silly smiles.  "Oh! No one!" She replies too quickly and too loudly for you to believe that. "You're a horrible liar." You say with a chuckle and she blushes. "Was that Mon-El?" You know that not too long ago Kara finally got over James and you're happy they're still good friends. (You're happy you didn't have to punch his face.) You see the way the dexamite keeps staring longingly at your sister and how she sometimes stares back, as if thinking about the possibility that that could be something, that she could have what Clark has. Maybe Mon-El wouldn't be your first choice for someone you'd want your sister to fall for, actually you don't think there's anyone worthy of Kara, your precious innocent baby sister, but you're in love and you want her to have it too.  "What?! No! That's not Mon-El!" Kara says, scrunching up her nose. "Okay..." you bite your lip. "James then?" "What are yo- no! It's not James. It's Lena." Oh.  Unexpected.  "Lena Luthor?" "Yes." She admits. "We traded numbers after the police sent her mother to jail. I wanted to thank her for saving the entire alien population in National City. I mean... I told her Supergirl told me that, because... you know." You nod. You were ready to tell Kara 'I told you' when Lena surprised all of you, including J'onn, by betraying her mother.  She saved hundreds of innocent lives and Kara was the one with a smug smile after everything. "How is she?" "She has been better. She sent her mother to jail, so it wasn't easy, but she told me she's glad no one died because of a Luthor this time."  You notice Kara's very proud of Lena for that, if the smile she's trying to hold back it's any indication, and after everything Lena did for the the past few months, you decide to give her a chance from now on, after all, Kara trusts her. "Anyway, you wanted to talk to me about something?"  You smile. "Guess who got the girl?"  She squeals and wraps you in a hug. . All of the evidences tell Lena's guilty. But Kara is having none of that. You've never seen your sister defend someone so much to the point of going against everyone, punching cement blocks all over the training room.  And that's how you find her. "Kara." She's breathing heavily and you approach her slowly, looking down at her hands closed in fists.  "I don't want to talk right now, Alex." You cross your arms over your chest, but you don't leave. And she's not pushing you away either, so that's something.  "You need to calm down." She smiles bitterly, surprising you, because the last time Kara acted like that she was under the influence of Red-K. "You want me to calm down? Lena is inocent and now she's stuck in a cell all alone because your girlfriend arrested her without even letting her explain and you want me to calm down?!" Kara yells, pointing a finger a you. "Hey!" You yell back. "Maggie was only doing her job, she has nothing to do with it! "She has everything to do with it!" "Kara!" She shakes her head, moving to sit on a bench, elbows on her knees as she rubs her face with her hands.  "She's innocent, I know she is." Kara whispers. You sit next to your sister, trying to calm down too, before wrapping an arm around her shoulders.  "Everything's gonna be fine." But you don't know that. Not when later Kara flies after Lena without even considering Metallo might explode everything around him.  Of course she succeeds and carries and injured Lena in for the DEO doctors to check on her. Through the infirmary's glass you see the way your sister's running her hands carefully through Lena's hair and how she caresses the CEO's cheek with the tips of her fingers, before walking away with a pained expression, probably so Lena couldn't see Supergirl if she woke up. You're not sure why you feel like you're intruding in a very intimate moment.  (In the back of your mind, you know why.) When you visit Kara the next day after reading the amazing article she wrote about Lena being innocent, it feels like you just stepped inside a flower shop.  There are so many flowers. You're very confused when Kara tells you later she kissed Mon-El. .  Game Night was full of tension that week. Kara still refused to share a full sentence with Maggie since the day she arrested Lena, and both of them were too proud to be the one to say sorry first.  Mon-El had been all over Kara and yet, somehow, she didn't seem all that interested anymore. You remember seeing him move to kiss her mouth and she quickly using her superspeed to turn her head and laughing at something Winn had said, the dexamite planting a kiss on her cheek instead. When you're alone in your apartment with Maggie after everyone leaves, you feel your girlfriend poking your ribs to get your attention. "Babe, I have a theory I want to share with you... but brace yourself because it might come as a shock." You frown. "O...kay?" Maggie took a deep breath for the drama effect and you can only smile at your girlfriend's antics. "I think little Danvers has the hots for little Luthor!" She says quickly. You blink. "Oh. That." "What do you mean 'that'? It's a big deal, right? Wait..." Maggie gasps. "You knew already!" "I had a feeling." You confess. "But she's with Mon-El, so... I'm confused." Maggie chuckles. "I'm not. You Danvers girls and the gay panic walk hand in hand apparently." "Hey!" You shove her away playfully and Maggie gives one of those laughs that shows off her dimples, making your heart melt deliciously.  "Seriously, though. She wants nothing to do with that outer space man child and I still feel like she might split me in two with her laser eyes. And I'm pretty sure I managed to see her planning a date with Lena through a text." "They're trying something called kombucha." "It's a lesbian drink, honey." You laugh, leaning in against Maggie and letting her wrap her arms around your body. "I just want her to be happy." "I know, baby." You're both not surprised when Kara sends you text not even ten minutes later saying she broke things off with Mon-El. . Your head moves from side to side as you follow Kara pacing around the training room.  "She has a boyfriend!" Kara grumbles. "Ex-boyfriend." You say. "They were together for five years!" She whines. "But only dated for two."  "They made science together!" "Are we talking about science or se-" "I don't like him!" Kara interrupts you. "And I don't trust him! I know he's up to something and I'll find out what it is." She started to pace again. "He won't fool me with that beard of that hair or those eyebrows. Lena deserves better... but the way she looks at him..." You can't stand it anymore. "Kara, do you want to tell me something?" She looks surprised at you, like only now she understands her own words and how she just spilled them out for you. "I-I... No." Then she walks out of the room, bumping against J'onn on her way out.  You've never seen him uncomfortable, not even when he had to pretend to be Kara as Cat's assistant, but the way blushes all the way to the tips of his ears when he looked in shock at Kara's back... You're just so grateful you're not psychic.  . Getting kidnapped and almost dying wasn't in your plans.  But you can't help but feel happy when your sister and your girlfriend join forces to save you. You really have the best family. It takes a week for you to fully recover and go home, and all of your friends celebrate with Game Night, like always. Only this time, Lena Luthor is there too. "Agent Danvers." She greets you after walking inside your apartment, offering you a beautiful bouquet of flowers.  "Oh, I'll give Kara those..." "No, please... these are for you." She says, cheeks turning pink. "Kara told me you got injured on one of your missions, I'm glad to see you're okay." You can't say you're not surprised, but before you open your mouth you feel Maggie's hand on your waist. "Trying to steal my girl, little Luthor?" Maggie says and you're glad Lena smiling, raising her hands in surrender.  "Wouldn't think of that." "Get a Danvers to yourself." Maggie winks at her and this time Lena doesn't say anything. "Lena!" Kara walks out of the bathroom and quickly wraps her arms around the CEO tightly. "I'm so glad you came!" "That's what she says." Maggie mumbles feigning a cough.  "Maggie! Behave." You say, pointing at finger at her. "Yes, ma'am." You observe Lena through the night. She surprises everyone by paying for the food (the best pizzas from the most expensive Italian restaurant in National City), and you giggle as you watch James and Kara teaching her how to eat her slice with her bare hands and not with a fork and knife. Maggie loves the vegan flavored ones the CEO bought specially for the two of them, saying they could be best friends forever, and you almost choke when Kara accepts a piece of the spinach pizza Lena offered her. (Kara and healthy food? Yeah, right.) You notice your sister's hand touching Lena's tentatively as they eat in silence and how they talk in soft whispers, smiling brightly as they look into each other's eyes. You've never seen Kara this happy.  "Babe..." Maggie mumbles after you're both under the covers.  "What?" "I ship it." "Go to sleep, Maggie." You say with a smile.  "Yes, ma'am." . "Do you want to get lunch together?" You ask Kara after a training session. She offers you an apologetic look, already taking off her cape.  "I'm so sorry, Alex. Lena's finally free today, since she's been busy with this new project, so I'm having lunch with her. But we can totally have a sister night, if you're up to it?"  You nod. "Yeah, sure." Kara folds her cape slowly and carefully, and you recognize the famous crinkle between your sister's eyebrows. You know Kara wants to tell you something but she keeps chickening out in the last moment and changing the topic, and you don't want to pressure her. You don't want he to admit something she's not ready to. Kara sighs loudly, and you pretend you're busy checking your gun.  "Alex." She finally says. "Yes?" Kara folds her arms over her chest, approaching you nervously. "I... I just wanted to... I-I mean, there's this thing..." You can't help but smile and touch your sister's shoulder, before pulling her into a gentle hug. She's such a baby sometimes. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" You say, holding her tightly. "Relax." "I'm scared." She mumbles against your shoulder. "Scared of what?" You ask, pulling away to look into her blue eyes. "I think I'm in love with Lena."  Finally. "You think?" You say with a small smile, and she relaxes, clearly relieved you're not biting her head off. "I am in love with Lena." "Well, you just won me fifty bucks. Maggie was betting it would take you much longer to admit it." She gasps. "You knew?" "Kara, when Lena's around you, you're not very subtle." You laugh. "You stare at her boobs like... a lot." Kara has the decency to blush brightly at that. "I do not!" "You do, and I don't blame you. Maggie thinks she has amazing boobs too." "Hey!" Kara points a finger at you, but she's smiling. "But they really are amazing..."  "And she makes you eat kale." "It tastes disgusting." "She listens N'Sync with you." "She's amazing at lip sync." "And she's in love with you too." She blinks.  "You think so?" She asked, eyes shining with hope. "I know, Kara. The way she looks at you sometimes..." You smile. "Wanna tell me about her?" Kara offers you a lovesick smile.  "She's so beautiful, Alex! And so smart... when she talks about science it's so full of passion! But she also loves poetry, classic music, and kids, oh Rao she loves kids! She says they're curious and honest and have the brightest minds, and I'm so in love with her!" You laugh when she finishes almost out of breath, because you're very happy for your sister. "I think its time for you to get the girl." . Clark and J'onn are holding Kara back using all of their strength as she screams loudly, trying to get away from them, trying to fly straight to Rhea's ship consequences be damned.  Lena is up there. "GET OFF OF ME!" "Supergirl, you need to calm down!" J'onn screams back. You see Clark squeezing her arms tightly as he makes her look into his eyes. "Kara, listen to me! We're getting Lena back, I promise you!" She groans loudly, the veins around her eyes making themselves visible before she's hitting Superman with her laser eyes, throwing him away against the DEO's wall and managing to get away from J'onn's grip.  Clark shakes his head from his spot on the floor, before standing up and superspeeding towards Kara, breaking through the wall to the other side of the bulding. They're hitting each other so fast you only see blurs of red and blue, a glimpse of a punch here and there, flashes of quick heat vision, Kara kicking Clark in the chest so hard that the vibrations sends everyone to the ground.  Including you. Before you know what's happening, Clark has Kara on her knees, trapped in his arms as he holds her from behind, and you run to your sister when you realize she's crying. "Kara..." You whisper. Superman finally releases her from his grip and Kara falls with her hands against the ground, tears running down her cheeks. "Lillian was right... she'll hate me, Alex... she'll hate me when she finds out..." And you finally understand. You understand what she meant when she told you she was scared. She was scared Lena wouldn't love her back after realizing Kara was in fact Supergirl.  "She won't. You're her hero, remember? She won't hate you, sweetheart." . Clark brings Lena back as promised. And Lena saves the world with Lillian's help. The city is destroyed, but you can't go another day without making sure Maggie is yours and you're hers, so you ask her to marry you. That's your happy ending.  But not Kara's.  Mon-El was a man child, but he was still their friend and she let him go. And she's been avoiding Lena since Clark carried the CEO back safely to the ground. You're not sure she should be alone right now, so you pay your sister a visit, but someone's already there. "Lena, please..." you hear Kara's voice through her door. "So you lied to me?" Oh shit. "N-No... I-I'm sorry..." "You've been lying to me since the day we met and now you're sorry?" Lena spits out, her voice trembling. "You made me feel like I could trust you, like I meant more to you than just my name but you were the one who couldn't trust a Luthor!" "Lena, you got it all wrong, of course I trust you, please, believe me!" "And why would I believe you?" "Because I love you!" You gasp. "Well, now is too late." The door opens and suddenly a teary-eyed Lena is standing in front of you, before she briskly walks past you towards the elevator.�� You walk inside Kara's apartment and she's sitting in her couch.  "Kara..." "Just.. don't." . Maggie tells you it's better to wait for them to figure things out on their own, and you agree to wait. You wait for three months. And then you're walking inside Lena's new office. She doesn't take her eyes away from her computer screen until you're standing right in font of her desk, but apparently she's not surprised to see you there. "Agent Danvers." Lena greets you, sitting up straighter in her chair, one of her eyebrows raised. "Lena." You say back. "I don't remember seeing you on my schedule." "There are some perks of being a federal agent." You smile smugly. "Except you're not a federal agent, right?" Lena asks defiantly. You sigh and decide to make yourself comfortable on the chair in front of Lena's desk, before looking right into those green eyes that seemed to have the power to scan her like Kara did. "I'll be honest here, Lena." She scoffs and you ignore her. "Kara lied to you. I lied to you. We all lied to you." She looks away but you keep going. "But we also cared about you. I still care about you." "Then why did you lie to me?" She asks in a small voice, vulnerable.  "To protect you!" You say. "And it is lame, I know, but Kara..." Lena's eyes flicker to yours at the mention of your sister's name.  "I got kidnapped for being Supergirl's sister. I was tortured and almost died because of Kara. And to this day she still hates herself for it. And I know she wonders sometimes how my life would've been be if she wasn't here. She wouldn't be able to forgive herself if something happened to you for the same reason." Lena closes her eyes for a moment and you reach over her desk to rest your hand on top of hers, and you're surprised when she holds your hand back. "But I'll tell you how my life would've been if Kara wasn't in it: it would've been be miserable." A single tear runs down Lena's cheek. "I said awful things to her." You smile. "She understands why you were angry. But you still can make things right." "How?" You reach inside your pocket and offers Lena your first wedding invitation. . Your wedding was amazing. Your wife is amazing. The honeymoon... amazing. You're almost sad to come back from Italy, but you want to see your sister. And Lena.  You remember seeing the CEO finally approaching Kara by the end of the party and both of them slow dancing together, sharing a few whispered words every now and then. But you were too busy thinking about the honeymoon.  (And how someone anonymously gave you a full paid honeymoon in Italy as a wedding gift.) You share a kiss with your wife before walking inside Kara's apartment only to immediately step back, tripping against Maggie and making her scream in pain. "ALEX!" Kara screams, quickly sitting up from her spot under Lena and covering their very naked bodies with a blanket.  "Jesus FUCKING Christ!" You yell, covering your eyes. "Where are your clothes?" "Oh my God..." Lena mumbles, hiding her red face behind Kara's back. "Don't you know how to knock?" Maggie looks at them over your shoulder. "Thank you for the wedding gift, little Luthor." You want to punch Maggie because now it's so not the time. "And add amazing ass to that list, by the way."  "Hey!" Kara yells. "Let's go home." You grab Maggie's hand and drags her out of Kara's apartment, because your job's clearly done here. "Yes, ma'am." ▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪ ORIGINAL ON AO3! ENJOY!

[marvelist]

Who’s sequeling?

I’m not sequeling, you’re sequeling.

aka, the probable continuation of this. (warning: I may end up changing parts of this as I write it, so the prototype may not be the same as the final product.)

Lin Chen doesn't release his hold on Pingzhang's pulse until the sun has melted away into the sea of land. Only when he's sure that Pingzhang's pulse will not change, will not take a turn for the worst does he release the child's wrist. He sighs then, not in relief since he had full faith that his medicine would work and that Pingzhang would survive, but in something else. Some small sense of resentment, of resignation that once more, he's unreservedly given his heart to someone who can crush it without a thought. He'd been careful with Xiao Jingyan at first, rationing their time together and only allowing certain liberties when Xiao Jingyan lived up to Mei Changsu's dream. If it wasn't for Jingyan's stubborn nature and propensity for being a long suffering hero, Lin Chen would have been fine. But no, Jingyan had to go all noble at a town full of suffering people who’s lost their homes and suddenly, the lines that Mei Changsu had painted of the future for him was being beautifully colored in. Slow at first, just some soft shading at the edges that spread faster as the years progressed, as the People's Emperor Xiao Jingyan grew into his seat. He still hadn't forgiven Jingyan, at least, not until the day when Jingyan's grief came to bear, but he had begun to become enamored with the idea of having a king worth believing in. And now, he may just have a Crown Prince worth investing in.

Once he's sure that Pingzhang is deeply asleep, he speaks. "You should have called for me earlier," he scolds the Emperor of Da Liang. He turns then, watching as Xiao Jingyan steps from the shadows of the doorway. He's still in his court attire, dark fine silk rustling softly as he makes his way over to the bed. "I didn't want to disturb you. We didn't think it was serious and the court doctors assured me that they could treat it. My Empress only discovered how bad it was when she visited him in the middle of the night," Jingyan evenly returns, though Lin Chen can still hear the guilt underlying the tone of his voice. Of course he should feel guilty! Doesn't he understand that Lin Chen happily makes the trek from Langya Mountain to here because it pleases him to do so? No Emperor has the resources to command him, so Jingyan needs to snap out of this fear of imposition immediately. "Three days of extra suffering you've granted onto your son, your first born, just because you didn't want to 'disturb me'. Did you think that I would treat you as any less of a friend if you called on me too much?" Lin Chen mocks. "If I didn't feel like coming, I'd just ignore your summons." Jingyan settles on the seat across from him, tired smile on his face. "I don't want to treat you the way Xiao Shu does, or show any hint of disregard for your feelings. Plus, I rather like thinking that I have you as my faithful last resort." Lin Chen goes quiet at that, absently straightening the blankets covering Pingzhang as he lets that revelation settle in. He shakes his head, completely resigned and baffled at how Xiao Jingyan continues to steal slivers of his heart to keep with very little thought. "I don't need you to protect me from the memory of Changsu. I can do that just fine on my own. Protect your own interests by calling me immediately the next time Pingzhang is sick. By not doing so, you've worried Tingsheng, who worried Fei Liu, who worries me. Do you see how your decisions affect the rest of us? Have some consideration," Lin Chen huffs. Jingyan nods, conceding defeat. "I am sorry." And then adds, with sincere intensity, "Thank you for saving my son's life." He reaches for Pingzhang then, gathering him against his chest, unheeding of the sick sweat coming off the boy and staining his elaborate silk robes. "I wasn't sure you'd get here on time, wasn't sure if the messenger even made it to Langya Hall. I didn't see this coming." His grip tightens on Pingzhang but the boy thankfully doesn't wake. "Mei Changsu would have seen this coming and set a vicious trap in return," Lin Chen mutters darkly. "I would have seen this coming, if you'd only tell me about the assassination threats you've been deflecting. You and your disgustingly honorable nature, thinking no one would target a child!" He lets that reprimand sink in for a moment before continuing. "Tingsheng tells me that this is the first attempt on Pingzhang. I hope you realize that it won't be the last." Jingyan says nothing, only tightening his grip on the softly wheezing boy. "You know, it would solve many problems if you'd just have a few more sons. At the very least, you can avoid painting such a large target on a ten year old," Lin Chen tries again. Jingyan shakes his head, stoically. "This again!" Lin Chen bursts out in exasperation, immediately lowering his tone when Pingzhang lets out a noise of discontent. "I thought we were beyond this. This is because of that blasted book, isn't it? So because Mei Changsu wrote you as having one son, you've decided to forego the security of your lineage? Have you become this stupid?!" He looks long-sufferingly at Jingyan, frustration clear. "He wouldn't want this for you, and you know it." "No. That's not it. At least, that's not the case now." Jingyan pauses, as if unsure how to deliver the next part delicately. "Empress Liu has been miscarrying. We just lost the fourth potential prince four months ago. We thought it was because she's been more stressed lately with the Founding Day Anniversary coming up next month and with the death of her sister, but after this," Jingyan looks down at his son, "I'm not so sure." Lin Chen settles back, tapping his fingers against his thigh in thought. They spend the next candle mark in a quiet limbo, neither voicing their thoughts. Their vigil is interrupted when Tingsheng files into the room, closely followed by Fei Liu. Jingyan gently places Pingzhang back onto the pallet, smoothing his hair away from his eyes before standing and turning towards the two young martial artists. "I did as Master Lin Chen instructed and questioned the Master of the Imperial Kitchens. She says there hasn't been any new hires or changes in suppliers, and that all the dishes went through the taste tester under her eagle eye," Tingsheng informs him after showing his respect. Fei Liu, Lin Chen amusedly notices, doesn't bother to bow and just heads straight for Jingyan's abandoned chair, plopping into it and staring down at the ill prince. At least he refrains from poking at the prince, having been drilled by Mei Changsu's caretakers that under no circumstances should he poke at the ill. Tingsheng visibly pauses, looking embarrassed. "She was crying the whole time, berating herself and the people around her for letting Pingzhang-dede get sick." "Ugly! Very fat tears!" Fei Liu helpfully expounds. Tingsheng looks pained but he doesn't argue, which probably means it's true. "Imperial Father, I don't think it was her. Her regret is too genuine and from what the guards told me, she's doubled down on the security around the food in the past couple of days." "Hmm," is all Lin Chen says to that. Both father and son turn to the Master of Langya Hall, both surprised that they might be wrong since Jingyan doesn't think it's her either. "She did it?" Jingyan asks. "Did I say that she did it?" Lin Chen counters. "You 'hmmed'. I assumed that's what you meant when you sounded doubtful." "I hmmed? And that now denotes doubt? Why so easily swayed, Your Imperial Greatness?" Jingyan makes a low sound of frustration, though he sighs in resignation shortly after. "I know court affairs are not to your liking, so I won't ask for your assistance in this case, but cease impeding my son's investigation like it's some type of game." "Oh, it's a game all right,” Lin Chen smirks, neatly folding his hands into his sleeves while Fei Liu fishes a mandarin orange out of his own pocket, peeling it and discarding the skin by Pingzhang’s head. When one rolls too far away, he pokes it back into place until it’s just below Pingzhang’s nose, drowning out the smell of medicine.

“It’s a game that I intend to win."

Idk, look, I just wanted an excuse to write Lin Chen telling Pingzhang bedtime stories about his ridiculous parent and his Samwise Gamgee, okay?  

[this-sapphic-paradise]

In light of Kara's reaction to all three of the guys, it made me reeeally want an aroace spec. Kara. Like we see her keep thinking that she might be falling for someone, but as soon they reciprocate she realizes that she doesnt actually feel as strongly as they do. Please writers?

For a few days, well, nights actually, Maggie had noticed Kara wasn’t being her usual cheery self; Alex had told her about the whole Guardian thing, but still something told Maggie that there was more to it than that.

Seeing Kara alone at their favorite bar, the detective slid into the booth she was sitting at, and said, “What’s up, Little Danvers?”

Kara had been lost in thought, tearing the label on her foreign beer bottle absentmindedly when she was brought back to the present by the detective’s voice. “Hey, Maggie.” she greets with an easy smile, but one that was pale compared to how bright her smiles usually are. “Sorry, I’m kinda-”

“Off?” Maggie supplied, giving her an empathetic smile, to which Kara just nodded. “No Super-friends tonight?” she prodded carefully.

Kara’s gaze fell to the table, and her fingers fidgeted even more with the beer label. “No... James and Winn are out fighting crime, and Mon-El... I-I haven’t seen him in a few days- I mean, I see him at the DEO, but outside of work we haven’t really hung out in a few days...”

Maggie listened intently, nodding her head a couple of times. Taking a swing of her own beer, she asked casually, “Did something happen between the two of you?”

Kara sighed, “Yeah... Kinda... I don’t know.” the hero grunted, letting her head fall back. 

“What’s up, kiddo? Talk to me.” Maggie coaxed, wanting nothing more than to help Kara; after all, making Kara happy would make Alex happy too.

Straightening her head up, Kara worried her bottom lip before gushing out in one breath, “A couple of weeks ago, Mon-El kissed me, but he pretended not to remember it because he was sick, and then a few days ago he admitted to have feelings for me, but now I’m feeling all weird, like I did when James and I finally got together!” Kara took a deep breath, and bit her lip again.

Maggie frowned, taking into consideration everything Kara had told her plus the distressed look on the girl’s face. “Mhm... If you don’t mind me asking, has this happened to you before? I mean, before James?”

Kara nodded, “Yeah... Whenever I meet someone I like, something always gets in the way: trying to figure out my powers, trying to hide my powers, trying to be a superhero, fighting bad guys...”

“Mm...” Maggie tilted her head to the side, “But like...” she stopped, trying to choose her words carefully, “Okay, I have one awkward question, but I promise I’m trying to get to a point, alright?”

Kara frowned a little, but nodded.

“Do you...like the idea of being...intimate with someone? Is it something you’re looking forward to?” Maggie asked, and just like she had anticipated, the younger Danvers was blushing up a storm.

“Yeah! I-I mean...isn’t that what normal people are supposed to want? I-I want that too, of course.” Kara managed to stutter out as she fixed her glasses.

Maggie winced at the word ‘normal’. “No, Little Danvers... There are no “normal people”, just what’s considered more common... Look,” she said, placing a hand on Kara’s arm and smiling softly at her, “I know you’ve been fighting your whole life to fit into a mold, to blend in with the crowd... So I know you see romance and sex as something you have to check off your list in order to be considered an avarage human, but there isn’t such thing. We’re all different, we all want and like different things - contrary to what all those rom-coms you watch want you to believe.” Maggie punctuated her sentence with a little teasing smile.

Kara listened to Maggie speak, but she couldn’t really comprehend what the detective was saying so she kept quiet, waiting for Maggie to continue.

“I mean, there are people who can’t fall in love or don’t like romantic relationships... there are people who are repulsed by sex, some don’t really care one way or another about it, so if they feel like it and their partner asks for it, they’ll agree to have sex... There some people who only feel sexual desire for people they have a romantic connection with... It’s called being aromantic and asexual, Little Danvers, and it’s a whole spectrum. I only know a little bit about it, but if you want to, we can look into it together.”

In the blink of an eye, Kara was by Maggie’s side, hugging her a little too tight. “Thank you.” she whispered, before letting go of her sister’s girlfriend and starting to fidget with her own fingers. “I, unfortunately, have the habit of walking in on my friends having sex- which, in my defense they were...doing it at work, so I had no way of knowing- and when I caught them...I was just...” Kara frowned, trying to find the right word, but then she sighed and said simply, “I just had a scary and intense feeling that that kind of thing wasn’t for me.”

“And that’s okay, Kara.” Maggie smiled, feeling proud that she could help, seeing as she was apparently the Senior Gay of the group. “If you don’t want to full on date anyone? That’s fine. If you want to date, and kissing is all you’re comfortable with? That’s absolutely fine. The only wrong thing to do, would be to pressure yourself into a situation you don’t want to be, okay? Just do what makes you happy, be honest with the people you get close with, and if they are compatible and right for you, they’ll stay.”

Kara was full on crying by now, crying and laughing at the same time. “I-I really didn’t know that’s a thing!” she managed to say between sniffles and giggles. “When you got here I was wondering what was wrong with me! I could have had James, now Mon-El... I thought I was broken... or... you know... just too much of an alien, I guess...”

“It is perfectly human, Little Danvers.” Maggie reassured her. “And you’re not broken, you’re perfect just the way you are.”

Kara finally gave Maggie her brightest smile, that Kara Danvers patented smile that could light up a room. “Thank you, Maggie, really... Alex is lucky to have you in her life...and um, so am I.”

Maggie smiled back, and playfully bumped shoulders with Kara, saying, “No problem, Kara. I’m here whenever you need me.”

[yahoo-the-dagger-blog]

How a gut-wrenching loss, a promise, and countless post-practice shots fueled Oregon’s Final Four run

KANSAS CITY — The last time Oregon was here, the last time nets were snipped down, the last time players jumped and hugged, the last time a trophy was lifted on an Elite Eight floor with the Ducks present, Dillon Brooks stared toward the ground.

“Here,” last time, was Anaheim, and the players jumping were Oklahoma’s. A piece of nylon was in Buddy Hield’s hat. Brooks, meanwhile, sat in front of his locker. He had scored just seven points in an 80-68 loss. His eyes were glued to the floor.

“This one’s gonna hurt,” he said, dejected.

And it did hurt.

“I was depressed,” Brooks recalls. “I didn’t talk to nobody after.” He was down for a full week, wounded by the thought of being so close, yet now being so far.

“I’m gonna remember this feeling,” he said on that night, 364 days ago.

And he did remember. And so did many others, determined to get back to this stage, and determined to go one step further.

Oregon did get back to the stage, and did go a step further, stunning Kansas Saturday night to reach the Final Four for the first time since 1939. And it did so because they, the players, didn’t forget.

Jordan Bell (left) and Dillon Brooks celebrate Oregon’s Final Four berth. (Getty)

_ _ _ _ _

A couple weeks after the Elite Eight loss to Oklahoma, a couple weeks after the dejection, Jordan Bell walked into head coach Dana Altman’s office. It was nothing staged, just coach and player, reconvening after a long season. Bell, alone in the room with Altman, made a promise.

“Coach,” he said, “I promise I’ma get you there. I promise I’ma get you to the Final Four.”

Or rather, he reiterated a promise. It wasn’t the first time Altman heard those words coming from Bell’s mouth. He heard them soon after Bell stepped on campus for the first time in 2014. Before Bell left, he said, he would get Altman to the pinnacle.

Altman, who is 58 years old, and who has been coaching college basketball for 37 years, would sometimes chide Bell, reminding him of the promise. “I’m getting old,” he’d joke. But Bell, heading into his junior year, reassured Altman.

Eleven-and-a-half months later, he would fulfill the promise in a big way.

_ _ _ _ _

It wasn’t just Brooks. It wasn’t just Bell. Ever since the Ducks recovered from the Elite Eight loss, it became a driving force behind much of what they did.

“That loss has fueled us,” junior guard Casey Benson says. “Not wanting to have that feeling again has fueled us.”

Shortly after the loss, Benson was back home in Arizona, and one day looked up to see a promotional board. The board had a countdown to the 2017 Final Four, which, conveniently, was being held in Phoenix, near Benson’s hometown. So Benson took out his phone, took a picture of the countdown, and sent it to all his teammates on Snapchat.

Throughout the offseason, the Final Four was in the players’ minds, which is nothing unique — dozens of teams think about the same thing every year. But Oregon had something others didn’t; it had the feeling that Brooks and other players ruminated on in that locker room in Anaheim. Everything from that day lingered.

“Every practice, every game, somehow, some way, that came up,” assistant coach Mike Mennenga says of this season. “That lesson was so deeply embedded in our hearts.”

Altman says that may be a bit of an exaggeration, but whether the Oklahoma game was explicitly used as motivation or not, it was implicitly present. It was present as the Ducks ground through offseason workouts, even after Brooks underwent foot surgery in August. It was present after Oregon lost two of its first four games; as it won 17 in a row after Brooks returned; after it lost to lowly Colorado in January. It was even present after a win at Oregon State on the final Saturday of the regular season, a victory that clinched a second straight Pac-12 title.

But a Pac-12 title wasn’t the ultimate goal.

_ _ _ _ _

Hours after the Ducks rocked Oregon State in Corvallis, back at home, somebody else was rocking: Elton John. The famous singer was performing at Matthew Knight Arena, and Oregon assistant coach Kevin McKenna arrived back in Eugene in time to attend.

The following day, McKenna realized his daughter had left her jacket at the concert, so he went back to the arena to retrieve it. When he did, he heard the bounce of a basketball.

It was coming from the adjacent practice court, so McKenna went to investigate. He found Tyler Dorsey, on the court, by himself. On a Sunday. Shooting.

“He had a look on his face,” McKenna says. “He was upset with how he had played.”

It was odd to see such a look after an 80-59 win, but Dorsey, a talented sophomore guard, had scored only one point. A week earlier, he had scored just five against Cal.

“We secured a back-to-back, but I didn’t think I played as well,” Dorsey says. “So I got in the gym. I did that three times before the Pac-12 tournament.”

Dorsey also makes 100 3-pointers, and sometimes more, after every practice. Some days, he’ll do the same before practice. He makes 20 each from five spots, and at times won’t move on to the next spot until he makes four of five consecutive attempts. It was an intermittent routine throughout the season, but became a daily one over the last month.

The first time Dorsey took the court after the lonely Sunday shooting session, he scored 21 points against Arizona State. The following day, he had 23 against Cal. The following night, 23 against Arizona. He dropped 24 on Iona in the first round of the NCAA tournament, and spurred Oregon’s comeback from 10 down against Rhode Island in the second round with 27. The 25th, 26th and 27th came on a tie-breaking, game-winning 3-pointer in the final minute.

The shot was why Dorsey went to the gym on that Sunday, and why he goes late at night or early in the morning. “So when I take those shots,” he says, “they feel good.”

Dorsey scored 20-plus points in six consecutive games to earn the nickname “Mr. March,” and to set up Saturday’s Elite Eight showdown with mighty Kansas.

_ _ _ _ _

The day after the Ducks beat Michigan to advance to the regional final, thoughts of the Oklahoma game came flooding back — some admittedly prompted by reporters. Brooks’ memory of the game is remarkably vivid. He recalled the Sooners’ dominance on the offensive glass. He recalled Hield, Jordan Woodard and Isaiah Cousins knifing to the rim. He also recalled one other thing about the buildup to the game.

“Last year, we were so happy to get to the Elite Eight,” he said.

Others remembered this too. They remembered the water fights in the locker room, the soaked floors, the premature showers after each tourney win.

A year later, they noticed something different. Water bottles weren’t necessary. Water coolers were still full. Floors were dry. After the first round. After the second. Even after the Sweet 16.

“We never said it out loud, but everybody here knows that our goal is to make it to the Final Four,” Bell said Friday. “So everybody is coming in like … OK …”

Said Dorsey: “We’ve been here. We’re not satisfied until we get past this point.”

_ _ _ _ _

They hadn’t been here, though. Not in Kansas City. Not in front of 18,000 blue- and red-clad fans who greeted every Jayhawk basket with a thunderous roar. The air quivered every time the roar came.

But every time it came, it only energized the very people it was supposed to intimidate. Brooks loved it. He strutted back down the court after every one of his three 3-pointers and flashed a villainous smile toward the crowd. Dorsey loved it, too. He splashed six 3s, including a bank shot that he didn’t call and a dagger with under two minutes remaining, after which he brought his right index finger to his pursed lips.

Shhhhhh.

And Jordan Bell… well, he must have loved the stage.

“That was one heck of a performance,” an almost awestruck Altman said afterward. “He was tremendous.”

Bell was more than tremendous. He was darn near impeccable. His strength and athleticism were breathtaking. He pulled down 13 rebounds and swatted away eight Kansas shots. He was named the most outstanding player of the regional, and is the latest breakout star of March.

Bell grew up playing football, which he credits for his affinity for defense. “I played defensive end,” he says. “I thought offense was for soft people.”

But he doesn’t attribute his shot-blocking ability to football. “That came from Guitar Hero,” Bell says, completely seriously. “In Guitar Hero, you have to press and strum at the same time. It’s all about timing.”

As the final seconds of the game clock, and the final seconds of the countdown to Phoenix ticked away, Brooks sprinted toward the bench. Dorsey threw his hands up into the air at midcourt. Bell found Altman and fell into his arms. And maybe, just maybe, he whispered into his ear.

Promise kept.

Finally, after ladders had been raised, after rims had been stripped of nets, the players, with confetti embedded in the sweat on their necks and cheeks, retreated into their locker room. And finally, for the first time in over a year, water flew. Basketball shoes crushed ice on the floor. Altman got his shower. And a big blue Powerade cooler sat there on the floor, empty.

More NCAA tournament coverage on Yahoo Sports:

• Recently fired Tom Crean attends Indiana women’s basketball game • Darius Rucker won’t miss South Carolina basketball, even when there’s a concert • Frank Mason’s Kansas career ends without a Final Four appearance • Gonzaga throttles Xavier to send Mark Few to his first Final Four