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sif-the-tsunami · 4 years ago

Text

When I Was His Wife

“Well I was looking forward to/ staying here forever/ ‘cause you asked me to/ Didn’t think I could do better/ So I settled down/ in this ten cent town/ it’s about to break me.” These are the Best Years of my Life- Pistol Annies

This is the follow up to “When You Fall Apart” Which is one of my favorites that I’ve written.

(there is Sy just carrying the weight of all of my own internal chaos)

A/N thank you for everyone who encouraged me to write this, I adore Sy as a character. He seemed like someone who could pull off the impossible. I made some choices in here that not everyone will agree with. Tell me I’m wrong in the comments an we can discuss it there.

Pairing: Sy and Josephine

Warnings: again all of them. discussion of infidelity, Discussion of child loss, discussion of unprotected sexual intercourse, headbutting, day drinking, self medicating, therapy, swearing fealty on ones hunting knife, discussion of knife play, I’m probably missing something

Everything is going below the cut this time to save anyone who doesn’t like this kind of stuff from unpleasantness.

word count just shy of 7.5K

Thank you to @inlovewithhisblueeyes for letting me bounce ideas off of you, love you sweet girl

tagging: @oddsnendsfanfics @willkatfanfromasia @rocket44 @feralrunaway @littlewrenofrivia @summersong69 @coffeebooksandfandom @klaine-92 @nothingright @cavillsim @watery-lane @above-average-ass-bitch

unbeta’d

I slept for the next two days, Mama only woke me up long enough to drink some water once she started worrying about me. She managed to wrangle my out of my clothes and into one of Daddy’s shirts we got him that she left in the drawer. My phone was dead, but thankfully Mama and I had the same kind so I could charge it today. What fresh hell was going to be waiting for me on my digital leash? I lay there for a while, the murmur of conversation in the other room was comforting. Mama left a fresh glass of water some time recently, it was still chilly with only a little condensation forming around the sides. The ache in my chest was almost unbearable. The hole in my heart was Syverson sized, being sober made the edges of that abyss feel even more raw and pronounced. I don’t know if my liver could handle me drowning my sorrow much more, but I would give anything to not feel it. I need to make this feeling of worthlessness go away.

When I finally decided to rejoin the land of the living, Mama and my brother Teddy were talking at the kitchen table, discussing about if they should come with me to go get my things or if I should call the sheriff’s office to be monitored. I stayed behind the corner long enough to let them finish what they were going on about.

“If I know Jo well enough, she’s going to need someone to keep her from burning the whole house down with him in it tied to a chair,” my brother chuckled. “She’s been taking care of herself for years. You should have seen how she handled one of these girls who came up to us once on Post.

“Jo was loading up the car when this prissy little thing came walking up, she must have thought she was some kind of hot shit. You would have been so proud of her Mama, the girl said to her that she had been sleeping with James during their deployment. All Jo said back to her was ‘You’ve both been back for something like three months, right, have you seen him since?’ Little Miss Hot Shit stuttered and said ‘Well not yet,’ like she had been really holding out that he was going to. ‘He doesn’t have my new phone number.’ Jo just tiled her head to the side. Smiled at her real sweetly and told her, ‘Baby girl, he’s not going to. He knows how to find you. You were just a rental car to him, sweetie bell. Ford Fiestas are fun as hell to ride but let’s be honest, you aren’t going to pick a Fiesta over the Mercedes Benz you have at home. You aren’t the first and you sure as hell won’t be the last, now go on and get out of here before I ruin the rest of your day like you tried to ruin mine.’ One of the other officer’s wives came up to her and said she was amazed that she handled her so well without breaking Miss Prissy Pant’s face. She just said ‘I’m too pretty to go to prison, Kathy.’ And we hoped in the car. You raised one tough lady, Mama.”

“How many times has that happened, Theodore, I need to know.”

“She has only told me about four women meeting her face to face. The two pregnant girls who got knocked up to get out of their deployments, Prissy Pants, and one who thought that James was in love with her. She evidently broke down in tears on the tarmac when Josie jumped into his arms and he swung her around. But she would get letters tucked into the windshield of her car for months whenever he returned from deployment.”

“You two kept this from me for years, why?”

“Jo said that this was her problem, don’t you remember how you handled it when her first boyfriend ran out on her on prom night? She cried to you and Dad, and you just told her that no one is worth weeping over. She’s just been trying to make you proud, Mama. Daddy might have known because I know they had a really nasty fight about a month before he died.”

I walked out after that. Mama’s eyes were red, “Good morning, baby, do you want pancakes? Bacon and eggs? What do you want, Darlin’?”

“Coffee would be a good start.” I rasped. “Can I use your charger?”

“It’s right here. Cream and sugar?”

“Black as my sense of humor, please Mama.” I said, Teddy chuckled again. I reached over and squeezed my brother’s shoulder. “Hey, I’m glad you’re here.”

“I got to look after my little sissy.” He replied using what he called me growing up. “So what are we doing to get over Jimmy?”

“I was thinking tattoos and day drinking?”

“Atta’ girl, Josie. Fuck that douche canoe.”

As soon as my phone was able to turn on, it sat on the counter vibrating for the next five minutes. Six missed calls from James. And seventy text messages. A few from stores I shop at, but the majority were from my husband.

“Ugh, I just don’t feel like dealing with this right now.” I said as my mom put my coffee in front of me.

“Just leave him on read. I doubt he’s hurting for company.” Mama said, in almost a snarl. I looked through a few messages. The last one was from this morning. Sweetheart, I’m worried sick about you, I miss you. Please talk to me?

“Ted, do you want to go with me to Walmart so I can get a couple day’s worth of clothes, I am just not ready to go back and I can’t live in Daddy’s old shirts.”

“Of course, we can get some booze while we are there.”

“Get yourself a bathing suit while you are there, honey, its going to be beautiful today and you can go for a swim.” Mama added.

I texted James back finally as I finished my coffee. I’m sorry I worried you, Sy, I have literally been asleep since I got here. I’m not ready.

I understand. I’m sorry, I should have seen how much I’ve been hurting you. I swear to God, I really do love you. Please, let me know what I can do for you.

Yeah, you should have, James. You should have seen how bad you’ve been treating me. You can drop off the face of the earth, that’s what you can do for me, I think spitefully. Thankfully, Mama washed my yoga pants and tank top. It would have to be alright for now. My brother let me wear one of his extra flannel shirts he kept in the back of his car. An hour later, Ted and I were at the store, picking up chips, dip, and cheap champagne. Mama loved mimosas, so I thought it was the least I could do. I grabbed a couple of sun dresses and a bikini, if I was going to be gone for a few days, I was going to come back home looking refreshed, radiant even, and not like the hot pile of garbage I was feeling like. I made a small detour to the cosmetics department, got myself a couple of face masks, hair dye, and sun screen.

“Really? Dark brown, Josie?”

“That’s as close to my natural color as I can, I’m tired of the blonde highlights. I think after this I might just let it come in. Grays and all. Who ever loves me next is going to have to just deal with me as nature intended.”

“I’m proud of you. Do you think you will leave him for good?” He said, Ted has always been very protective of me.

“Well, I certainly can’t leave him for evil, can I?” Making him laugh. One the way outside there was a truck near the front of the store with a sign that read “Puppies for sale.”

“Teddy, we need to see these puppies.” I gasped. Walking up to the truck bed I saw the sweetest little German Shepard puppies. I reached in and they all started flopping all over the place trying to get pets and love. Maybe a puppy was exactly what my hurting heart needed. We haven’t had a dog since Aika passed away. It was looking like I would never have a baby but maybe this was the kind I needed. Puppy snuggles would definitely make that Syverson shaped hole less painful.

“I’ll buy you a puppy if you divorce James.” Ted said to me, half joking.

“Shit, I can afford the puppy, pay for the divorce.” I jest back. “How much for one of the precious babies?”

“$500 a pup, mom has a pedigree, but daddy was the neighbor’s sneaky bastard.” The woman also petting the puppies said. “Mama is in the front if you want to meet her, daddy is very friendly as well.”

I start laughing uncontrollably. With tears in my eyes, I ask if any of the puppies are girls, and she pulls out a beautiful little one with floppy ears and the biggest smile I had ever seen on a dog. Oh yeah, she was meant for me.

“I’ll take her, do you take checks?” I think I’m ready to start healing.

*****

“Josephine, that son of a bitch you call your husband is here to see you.” Mama shouts from the house. It’s Sunday afternoon now, Teddy and I have exhausted all the snacks and mimosas hours ago and now we were sobering up by the pool. My new baby girl is laying next to my sun chair, chewing on her bone, wearing a pretty pink collar.

“Well, might as well let him out here.” I shout back.

“Are you sure, I can kick his ass to the curb if you want me to, baby.”

“Its okay Mama, I can handle him myself.” Sy walks out in the back yard a couple minutes later. I’m guessing Mama threatened to stick him in a meat grinder.

“I deserved that.” He said, looking thoroughly admonished. “You changed your hair, it looks really good...

“Oh bless your heart, James. That’s not even half of what you deserve.” Ted spoke up before he could finish, not moving his face towards him. He lay there in his swim trunks and dark sunglasses.

“Oh great, all three of you have been drinking. I can tell this is going to go well...” James sighed. “Who is this cutie pie, did your Ma get a new dog?”

“She’s my dog, her name is Stella Rosa.”

“I don’t think anyone asked you to come, Colonel Sanders, what are you doing here?” Ted snapped.

“Hey, I got this, okay? I’m a big girl, please, go in the house. The fuck are you doing here James?” I lift my sun glasses up.

“She’s a very sweet pup. Yeah, you are a good girl for your mama, aren’t you? I came to see you. I want to bring you home, baby, I miss you.” He’s checking out my fresh tan in my new bikini. Subtly, but he does it.

“I’m not ready. I’m not even ready to talk to you. Why would you think that I even want to come home?”

“I don’t know, I asked myself that the entire drive here. I don’t know what I’m even going to do with myself when I go home alone. Pussycat, I can’t begin to think of life without you. I know I fucked up. And I know I can’t take that back. You asked me the other day what I kept that was special just between us. I should have answered you then. All those nights where you fell asleep with your head on my chest, the evenings laying in the back of the truck looking at the stars after driving around trying to find the best nachos in town. And, baby, no matter where we go, yours are always the best. No one else ever got moments like that. You are the only woman I want to slow dance with in the middle of the night.

“You are the only person in the world that I would wait four hours in the freezing cold to get the best brisket in Austin for because you were craving bbq when we were still, you know...” He paused. I don’t think he ever stopped blaming himself for what happened. His knees were never the same after that accident, and usually whenever he stood up from kneeling, they clicked and popped painfully. He leaned a little closer spreading his legs and reached down to pet Stella. She seemed a little leery of him. It is easy to be cynical given the circumstances, but there is something about the way he is talking to me, I haven’t heard him be this earnest in years.

“When was the last time you were with someone other than me?” I can’t bring myself to look at him. I keep my eyes anywhere but on him. My body aches so badly for him to just wrap his arms around me. I miss him.

“When I got held up in Kuwait for two weeks in December...”

“December? You mean when you missed my fucking birthday. Goddammit James...” And the ache is gone. My heart shattered again. He’s going to make me cry again.

“Hey, it was after your birthday, and it was a hate fuck because I was mad that I broke yet another promise to you.”

“That doesn’t make it better.” I snap. “How many that deployment?”

“Just the one. And she’s someone who I knew was more discreet because we had that arrangement before.”

“I swear on my Daddy’s grave that if you are lying to me right now, I will end you Syverson. You couldn’t have waited a few more days?”

“I had no idea when I was going home. We boarded that fucking plane three times and had to turn back because there was a problem with it. I was two seconds away from tearing apart the first Private that so much as looked at me sideways. It felt like, at the time, the less terrible choice.”

“They sound both pretty shitty to me. You are a fucking adult James, you have to be able to control yourself or at least be responsible for your actions. If this is what you think love is, I would rather you hate me.” I stand up. Stella wags her tail excited to get away.

“Josephine, please...” He grasps my wrist, not hard, but there wasn’t anyway I was going to be able to get out of his big hand.

“Please what? Please stay so you can keep treating me like this. There are some people in this world who have no problem playing second or third fiddle, they are just thankful they are in the band. But I deserve to be your first chair, or I don’t want to play at all.”

“Mama wants to know if the jackass is staying for dinner.” Ted shouts at us.

“He going!” “I’m staying!” we yell over each other. He’s not looking at me, he’s not even looking at the pup. His eyes are somewhere else, mentally for a second he is somewhere else also.

“Baby… I… You have always been my first chair. There is no one else on earth like you. I have never done anything with these women as an act of love. It was always been, and I mean always, just a way to scratch an itch. Every time I was gone, every time things got bad, getting to come home to you was the thing that keep me going, Jo. You have been my safe harbor for the worst parts of my life.”

“James… That doesn’t excuse what you’ve done. You aren’t the man I fell for anymore. This isn’t healthy.” He let go of my wrist, and rubs his face. Those beautiful eyes of his have seen so much. For the first time I think he actually looks… broken. Is this the remorse I have been wanting to see? I try not to keep scores, especially when it comes to my loved ones. But for the first time since things went sour, he looks like I hurt him as much as he has hurt me.

Maybe there was love between us once. However there are just two broken hearts for now.

“Come on in the house, I can at least feed you before I send you back.”

“I think I will just go,” he says it quietly. “I don’t want to be a burden on you.”

“Don’t be like that, I am still cooking like I’m making dinner for you, so its way too much for the three of us. Come on in, I made carnitas.”

“I’ll be in, I just need a minute.” He refuses to let me see him cry if he’s not waking up screaming, even after all this time. Whenever we could have a healing moment, he pushes me out. I went inside, and started setting the table.

“Are we poisoning his tacos?” Teddy asked me.

“That’s not the worst idea I’ve heard today.” Mama interjected.

“No, and don’t start anything. He’s eating dinner with us, don’t either of you make him feel bad. I already did that.” Sy walked in at that moment, those blue eyes of his rimmed with red. He looked defeated. The four of us ate our dinner in silence. There was a time where he would have made some kind of comment about eating me out when we had tacos. He looked at me once during the meal, I think he remembered it too. He offered to clear the plates when were all done and sat in uncomfortable silence. The cockiness I had grown accustomed to over the years was gone.

He carried himself like this when we lost our baby, he can’t take that kind of humility. At least not with me.

“Sy...” I waited until the others were out of the room. “Do you still want me to come home with you?”

“Not if it means all we are going to do is get a divorce. I can’t see you every day knowing that I will never get to be yours again. I let them do a lot of terrible things to me over the years, but that… that I can’t handle.” His voice cracked. “If you want out, I will give you everything you ask for. I won’t fight you. But please, give me a chance to fight for you.”

“I don’t think you are exactly in a position to make that that request.” I lean against the counter across the room from him.

“No, I’m not.” he half smirked, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Look, I’m not saying that this can’t still all explode in our faces. But I miss my best friend and that has always been the best part of us. It will never be the same as it was before, it can’t be. However, if you are willing to work with me, I am willing to see if we there is any salvageable. If nothing else, we both need therapy very badly. We can’t just shrug this off. The second that it goes back to where we were, I’m gone.”

“Okay. I’ll do it.” He sniffs hard, and his breath is broken up, tucking his arms against himself. Usually its in authority, this time hes just trying to hug himself. I gesture him to come over and I hug him. He wraps his arms around then envelopes me. Leaning his head on mine, he whispers “I’ll do whatever you want, my darlin.”

I told my mom that I would be going home, she sighed at me. “Do you think this is the best idea?”

“I don’t know, Mama. I think I just want some closure. I told him if he so much as sneezes out of line that I’m gone. Forever. There will be no more chances.”

“Well, baby, I trust you. You are always welcome back here if you need to get away.”

While I’m packing my stuff into the shopping bags I had, I hear a sudden crack and Sy groans then swears. “yeah, I deserved that too.”

“What the fuck did you just do, Theodore?” I yell coming out. Ted was still holding my husband’s hand, and Sy was holding his face. “Did you… just headbutt him?”

“Yes, I did. My sister my might be willing to move past your mistakes, but I’m not. However, I’ve always been the petty one in the family. Hurt her again, they will have to dig your nuts out of your chest cavity, do we understand each other?”

“Yep, perfectly.” Sy grimaced. There were very few men that he would not retaliate against. Teddy, at 6’5, and years of horse wrangling, was one of them. Sy was build like a brick shit house, but so was my big brother. I thought we were old enough to not resort to violence, I have been wrong before.

My probably, potentially, soon to be ex-husband put mine and Stella’s things in the back bench of his truck. I held her in the crook of my arm as I climbed up in the cab. He gently shut the door for me, I noticed his shiner was going to be pretty gnarly in the morning.

He climbed into the other side as I set little Stella down on the floor. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it was a cheap shot, I’ll be fine. At this point, I don’t want to rock the boat with your brother and Ma. She tore me a new asshole before I got outside today.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t changed your mind, say to hell with me and that I’m not worth the hassle.”

“Josephine, I might not have made the appropriate effort to show you how much you mean to me, but you are worth it.” The Syverson shaped hole in my heart roared. Why couldn’t he have been this way all along?

We talked about the girl at the movies, and how she was one of his new officers. She might have come on to him, but he never engaged with her outside of work related things. He told her several times that he wasn’t interested but she was persistent. I halfway apologized for trying to decapitate him with a tequila bottle. He acknowledged that this was a long time coming. This was the most we had talked about anything deep for months. I don’t know if it was too little and too late though.

The rest of the drive home we made a plan of action. He would move into the office and would stay in there until I invited him back into my bed. We would start couple’s therapy as soon as we could. He would also start seeing a therapist individually. Before we got into town I also told him my final request for our reconciliation. I wanted to see other people. I had been with him since I was nineteen, I have never faltered in my devotion to him. I wanted to see if he was really the one for me.

When I got home, I poured out the rest of my alcohol, save for a bottle of champagne I was saving for our anniversary. He took Stella outside to go potty and came back singing her name “Stella bella, who is a good girl? Your Mama picks good puppies, yes she does. Good girl, Stella bella.”

Stella came prancing back to me with her tail wagging happily. He walked up behind me, and grazes the backs of my arms gently with his knuckles, leaning down to kiss my neck. “Not yet, Sy. I don’t want us to complicate things more than they already are.”

“Josie, what do you mean?”

“I don’t want to have sex with you until we start therapy.”

“So you want us to stop having sex, sleep in separate rooms and at some point you want to start seeing other men.” He starts nodding. He lets out a deep sigh and closes his eyes. “Okay, it that’s what you want to do. I was thinking about getting my stuff out of the bedroom so I can try to get some sleep. I love you, Pussycat. I’ll see you in the morning.” And with that, James went to bed. He was snoring on the couch in the office by the time I went to go lay down.

****

It took us three weeks to get into see a couples therapist. It felt a little validating about my decision that we shouldn’t sleep together until we have really decided to try or not. She had me stay behind and talk with her for another half an hour the first time we met. She asked me why I wanted to save my marriage with Sy if he’s hurt me for years.

“I don’t rightly know,” I told her. “Maybe its because when we are good we are so damn good. Before we were married, I was warned, I knew that things happened overseas and I shouldn’t take it personally, he’s just a man and not a saint. I never have had a doubt in my mind about if he’s been faithful when he’s been here until recently when a woman he knows started acting weird around me. The love we had was so passionate, like sometimes he thought that if he couldn’t put his hands on me I would disappear. I don’t think I will ever find someone who can love me like that again.”

The therapist suggested that he starts getting treated for PTSD and anger management while we all were working together. I would also have my own separate sessions to work on my own issues. It took a few months but I started seeing small differences in how he was handling things at work that pissed him off. He was able to defuse himself more easily. He became more open with his feelings. I think it helped that we both stopped drinking. We could be a little volatile when we had a pitcher (or three) of margaritas.

There were days with our sessions where we leave emotionally exhausted and not speak to each other the rest of the day, some of them ended in peals of laughter, others where I would cry for most of it. We discussed the infidelity at great lengths. I don’t want to rehash the details but it was definitely one of the bad days. But it seems that the root cause was him using the only the other women for comfort after fairly traumatic events. It’s why it only happened on deployments. He needed to feel something other than pain.

The lack sexual intimacy between the two of us made James start to get creative to initiate closeness between the two of us. He started helping me make dinner on the weekends, or he would bring me my coffee in the morning the way I like it. Mama and Teddy started coming over occasionally for suppers. It was nice to have the house filled with laughter. We started talking again like when we first started dating. He would take the time to go with me grocery shopping.

He started asking me out on dates again. Myself, him and Stella would drive out to the country, with a picnic basket that he would even prepare himself and we would go star gazing like we used to. I loved seeing the effort, but that hole still ached in my chest the whole time. The pieces should have all fit together, but here I was still not sure I could commit to him for the rest of my life.

On one of these dates, he asked me what I thought about him retiring. He had been in for almost nineteen years at this point and had far exceeded is expectations for being in the Army as an officer.

“I kind of just want to sell off all our extra shit and buy a really nice Air-stream. We can pull it with my truck. Just travel up and down the continent, I know you always have wanted to see the Northern Lights, we can just go anywhere. Me, you and Stella would visit where ever we could find a parking spot.”

“That sounds nice, Sy.” It came out a little half hearted.

“You don’t sound convinced, sweetheart.” He said, started sounding concerned.

“Hun, I don’t want to have a fight right now, so please just let me get this off my chest.” I sigh. And then I told him about the pain in my chest that I’ve had since my night in jail. That sometimes, like tonight, it was only a dull ache. That other times the edges are still so sharp that it feels like the pain was going to swallow me whole. He sits up, jaw dropped.

“Why haven’t you told me this before? I… Jo… son of a bitch.” He groans. He lays back down, the same defeated tone came back that I hadn’t heard since Mama’s house. “I’m trying my best, Josephine, but I feel like I have one hand tied behind my back… you will never love me again, will you? I can grovel, and beg. I don’t know what else I need to do. I know what I want to do, but it will just hurt you more.”

“What do you want to do, Sy?”

“I want to kiss every part of your skin, remind your body that I worship it. I want to pin you to the wall of our hallway and make love to you. I want to go to sleep with my nose buried in in your hair, and wake up sliding inside of you. I have since you came home. Hell, I always want to do that with you. But that can’t be the only thing that keeps us together.” He looked over at Stella sprawl out.

“I didn’t say this to hurt you, hun. I just wanted to be honest with you.”

“I know, I… just don’t want to cause you more misery. I really thought we were, you know, heading back in the right direction.”

“We have been, and honestly, I think if we threw in the towel now, it would cause more harm than good.” I say as the tears well up in my eyes. For the first time since I was taken away, I straddle his hips. He sits up and I place my hands on either side of his face, then lean in to kiss him. He kisses me back with the same hunger. I missed him. The ache dulled a little until he pulled away.

“Let’s get going, Jo, I want you so fucking bad. I want to take you here and now, I want to make you scream my name and damn anyone who catches us. We need to stop this, the agreement was that we wouldn’t. Fuck I’ve missed how you taste.” He said before stealing one more kiss.

*****

The next week was awkward to say the least, the therapist was pleased about the kissing and that I opened up. She said that it was possible that the pain would go away, but that he and I needed to remember that it was like I was grieving. In the mean time, we should continue to take it slowly because we both needed to be sure. The following few days he was distant, and the ache returned in full force.

With his PTSD treatments, he was having less nightmares. It was the best thing I could ask for. There were still times where he would yell in his sleep but they had become farther and farther apart. It was a night after he had his individual treatment, he had come home talking about how he felt the night of my breakdown. He came home and told me a little bit, how he had never seen me so angry before, thrashing about like a caged animal. He hated himself for pushing me there. That night, in the darkness of the small hours, I woke up from being dead asleep hearing him say my name in a panic. He then repeated sounding more and more scared. “Josie, oh my god, Josie, no. I’m sorry Jo, I didn’t mean to. JoJo!”

I rushed into the office, he was jerking violently in his sleep about on the couch. I turned on the light near his head. When these dreams happen, his eyes were usually opened, it creeps my out every time. I start to gently wake him up, saying his name and touching him as gently as possible. It took a few moments but he came back to me.

“Jo, Jesus fuck, you’re alright?”

“Of course I am, sweetheart, what happened? I’m right here, I’m okay, you are okay, everything is okay.”

“I dreamed we were back in the kitchen, you were under me. Screaming and whipping about. I had to restrain you more then I accidentally broke your neck and you died in my arms. It felt real, baby, I was holding your body and then the sheriff came and that’s when you woke me up. Oh my god. I fucking can’t. I can’t anymore. I need you, Josie. If something happens to you, oh fuck.” I have never seen James sob like this. He pawed at me until I was wrapped in his arms. I slipped my arms around his neck and held his head to mine. His sobs were hard. We sat there until he let it all out.

“Come on, big man, let’s get you into bed. Come with me. I’ll stay with you all night.” He nodded at me and followed me to the bed we used to share. I wrapped him up in our fluffy blankets. He snuggled into me and was asleep in moments. I stayed there in his arms until he woke up. The Syverson shaped hole hurt less that night.

When he woke up he started crying again. He held me and started kissing my face. “Thank god. I thought you coming to me last night was another dream.”

“No baby, I’m here.” He sniffed hard and squeezed me closer to him. We went back to sleep for a few more hours and when we got up for the day he moved his things back into our bedroom. We might not have started other marital acts but we both started sleeping better having the other person in bed. It had been almost six months we started trying to reconcile.

*****

It had been an interesting couple of months while we started the transition for him to retire. Soon it was only a matter of days. The dates had continued, the kissing had continued, but something was keeping me back from being able to say that the next step was what I wanted. Therapy continued, and we would be seeing her for the next few months. Before I left my private session she asked me if I had given myself a deadline. She was concerned that I might keep dragging it out and that would just make both of us miserable. I told her I had an idea and that I planned on pulling the trigger soon.

Sy’s superiors were setting up a retirement ceremony for him, followed by a dinner with the upper chain of command. He wasn’t looking forward to it, Sy just wanted to be out and done. He came home one day while I was watching a show based on a book series I had read when we first were married. The redheaded Scot swore fealty to his wife, offering to pierce his own heart with a dagger if he should ever rebel against her again.

“What’s this you’re watching?” He asked.

“Outlander, it just picked back up again from a season break. It’s pretty damn close to the book.”

“So is this what the ladies like these days, men in kilts offering to off themselves if they fuck up?”

“Women have liked men in kilts since I can remember. Why do you think we go to the Renn Faire every year.” I wink at him. “But yeah, I’m sure that does it for some people.”

“Well shit, Pussycat, it’s the only thing I haven’t done.” Sy walked out of the room and came back with his favorite hunting knife. It had been his dad’s once upon a time. The handle was made out of buck horn. In his warn and dusty uniform, he knelt in front of me on the living room floor. His beautiful blue eyes looking into mine, “Well, this isn’t iron, and it definitely isn’t holy. However, I will swear on it either way. Josephine, you are the only woman I have ever loved, you are my best friend, and I adore you. I will never do anything to make you doubt that love or loyalty again. If I ever do anything that makes you feel like you are less than the beautiful, smart, incredible, sexy creature that you are, you can sink this right in my heart. I will even hold it there for you so all you have to do is press it right in.” He finishes with a tongue click as an exclamation.

“James, you didn’t need to do this. You know I am weird about grand gestures.”

“No, I think I do. I said my vows to you on our wedding rings and I wasn’t able to keep it. But, I will never break this one. If I can earn your love back, I will never do anything to make you regret giving me this chance to be your man.” He still held the knife against his chest with one hand, and placed my hand over his with the other. “So what do you think, baby girl? We still have a long way to go, but I can’t think of anyone else I would rather struggle with.”

“I think you just put yourself in a position that I could just end you now if I wanted to.” I say with my usual sass.

“Yes, you could. I don’t think you will though.” He said smiling, his voice was husky and deep as usual. I love that easy smile of his.

“Is it wrong that I want to get on your lap and make out with you while I hold this against you.” His eyebrow raised. “Maybe more than just make out with you.”

“Oh, don’t you tease me now, sweet thing. I don’t want to start anything you won’t finish.”

“Who said I won’t finish it, Colonel Syverson?” His eyes grew as big as dinner plates.

“Wait, do you mean it?” He choked.

“Yeah, I do mean it.” I laughed. Before I could get up, he had hiked the skirt of the dress I was wearing up to my hips, pulling me to the edge of the sofa, revealing that I had skipped a certain garment that day. “I had an idea for after supper, but if you want we can do this now…. Oh fuck I’ve missed this.”

Before I can even finish my sentence, he was going to town with his tongue on his favorite part of my body. He remembered everything that made me squeal in delight. From the lack of sex on both of our ends, he was able to get me off easily. My body was desperate for his touch. He stopped once my body was trembling, kissing one of my thighs from my apex to my knee. He suddenly grunted and bit down on a tender part. He started panting and kissed the spot he bit.

“I’m sorry, sugar, I didn’t want to only last for two or three thrusts. Fuck, I have missed this pretty pussy. You taste so good.” He had a handful of his own cum and looked around for a tissue. Without a word, I grabbed his hand and licked it clean, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. He moaned out and then stood up. He took his shirt off, and lifted me up off the couch. I knew this hurt his back and knees but I wasn’t about to chastise him for wanting to be romantic. He carried me like we were on our honeymoon back to the bedroom. He lay me down as gently as possible then finished stripping himself. I took my dress off leaving myself exposed to him in a way that I haven’t in almost a year. Sy joined me on the bed, open and vulnerable to me. I loved those thick thighs and torso of his, he always eclipsed me.

“Hello ladies, nice to finally see you again.” He purred as he licked and sucked on my nipples. He leaned to one side and massaged my breasts with one of his hands. “Glad to see you that you missed me too.”

Before long, I could feel his erection pressing against my thigh. He spread my legs and rubbed himself against my opening. He leaned down and kissed my neck before sliding himself inside of me. I moan his name as he gently started making love to me. Bearing his weight on his elbows, he kissed and nipped at my neck.

Breathlessly, he told me how much he missed my body, how much he loved me, how lucky he was to have me. As his tempo increased, he started to whisper in me ear.

“Josephine, tell me what you are.” I looked at him confused. “You are my wife, I want you to tell me that you are my wife.”

“I’m your wife, James.” I tell him as lovingly as possible.

“Louder, baby.”

“I’m your wife.” I said loud and clearly. The Syverson shaped hole in my chest is gone, finally. Replaced with the warmth of knowing we were going to be able to survive this.

“Even louder, Jo.” I yell it out and he thrusts harder and deeper. “Keep going, beautiful, I want the whole neighborhood to know.”

I screamed it as he started pounding me harder, building his orgasm. As my own starts its crescendo, I screamed his name and arched my back as he pulls my hips down on himself and spilled into me. He lay down beside me, twitching and jerking a little. He kisses all the parts of my skin that is available to his reach.

“I think we should order a pizza for dinner tonight,” He says after a few minutes of catching his breath. “So we can stay in bed and make love again.”

“Or, and hear me out. I put my dress back on, you get dressed and we go out for sushi with your cum dripping down my thighs. What do you think about that?”

“Shit, I missed you being a damn freak like that. Do I we get to have more fun tonight if I say yes?” He chuckles, then kisses my hand, “I still want you to ride me with my knife pointed at me some time tonight.”

“Aren’t you scared I’m going to cut off a nipple or something.”

“You, with a knife? To be honest, cutting off my nipple is the least of my concerns. How do I know if this just isn’t a whole plan to lure me into complacency with sex and sushi, then you just murder me in my sleep.” He rolled onto his back and whined for a second, but got up. He put on a pair of khaki shorts and a black Metallica t-shirt as I got into my dress again.

“God damn woman, you are so fucking sexy.” He tells me as he opens the door on my side of the truck and leans down to kiss me again. As I climb up he give my butt a little tap just like he used to and closes the door for me. The ache I’ve been feeling these long months has subsided. Sitting across the cab from me, holding my hand, he asks if we want to go look at travel trailers this weekend. For the first time in a while, I feel like everything is going to be alright.

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fanfic #my apologies to henry cavill #captain syverson

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suga-kookiemonster · 3 years ago

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I hope it doesn't come off in the wrong way, but you've been someone who's always updated stories at your own pace and I really admire that. How do you do it? I mean, I'm someone who feels guilty the longer it takes me to update. I feel like I'm disappointing someone. Yk? I finally had the part I wanted to upload but my phone just crashed and I have to rewrite it again, and the only thing going in my head is people are gonna get frustrated and stuff. I really hope it doesn't come off in the wrong way, if it does, I'm extremely sorry.

definitely didn’t come across the wrong way! i am already the type of person who puts a lot of scrutiny and pressure on myself, so i try to not let others pile more on, particularly with my hobbies. and because it’s a hobby, i also try my best not to stress myself out over it. writing is most definitely a process and sometimes you’re not going to feel like doing it and sometimes, you’re going to feel shitty that you don’t feel like doing it. a reminder to you and me and everyone else struggling to write during this stressful time in history: please don’t beat yourself up about it. it’s okay that you haven’t posted anything in an x amount of time. it makes you no less of a writer, and everyone goes at their own pace. and your readers all have lives outside of this website too; they have other things to do and other fics to read. you may think, “damn, i haven’t updated in a month”, but the time probably went quickly for your readers as well! you’re providing a free service simply because you enjoy it, so never forget that 💕

you’re not always going to love writing, and that’s okay. in the meantime, do other things that bring you joy. catch up on tv, read some books, hang out with your favorite people. spend some time relaxing until you feel motivated again. but at the same time, i know firsthand that we can be our own worst enemy and psych ourselves out. sometimes, the only way you’re going to write is if you force yourself to. set aside a certain amount of time to do so and try to do only that. don’t worry about word counts or how slowly you’re writing or anything like that—just do what you can to write, whether that means a new change of scenery (i often have to do this) or writing parties with friends. often, me writing bit by bit eventually gets me to a point in the story that makes it easier for the words to come more quickly, and i get excited about my project again.

also please. PLEASEEEE do not write your fics on your phone, especially if that’s your only copy 😭 that is only asking for trouble, and you should absolutely not trust tumblr to keep your files safe. this site deletes shit all the time! i feel sick thinking about it lol

hope this all helps, babe! 💜 please also be sure to check out my writing tag for more writing reassurances. but i actually have a lot of projects coming up with actual deadlines (😱😭) so here’s to our muses inspiring us both 🙌🏾

#asks #writing

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dizzydancingdreamer · 5 years ago

Text

Sweater | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey Lovelies! Hope you're all doing well in this time of uncertainty, I know it can be tough. Never fear though, as always the Mikaelson boys are here to the rescue. I almost wrote another smut, like I had to put my laptop down and walk away, but alas I kept the tale on track. Kind of. None of my stories ever stay on track. Oh well, here you go loves, happy April 1st! Also, stay tuned for a master list that I will be posting sometime in the coming days!

Description: The Mikaelson household is a household that shares everything, something that Y/n finds out when she unassumingly picks up a sweater and puts in on without a care.

Pairing: The Mikaelson boys x Fem!Reader, definitely leaned this in Elijah's favour though

Warnings: None? Sharing? Is that a warning? They share Y/n there, I said it, you've been "warned"

Word count: 3798

Tags: FLUFF, very light smut, like not even just a heavy make-out scene,

(Photos do not belong to me but the mood bard does :) )

Life at the Mikaelson compound is, by no means, an ordinary one. It’s a lot of loud conversations, a lot of even louder fights, and a delirious amount of laughter. The kind of laughter that immobilizes people. It’s a life of never being alone, even when you want to be. Someone’s always around; chewing loudly when you want to read, sitting on your bed while you pick your clothes in the morning, hell even hanging outside the bathroom while you shower. It’s a life of love, the kind that fully consumes you.

Above all, though, life at the Mikaelson compound is a life of sharing. Food, books, beds, you name it. This house coined the phrase “what’s mine is yours”, literally. After two centuries of life with the Mikaelson siblings nothing surprises you anymore. Clothes are the main culprit. You don’t bat an eye these days when Rebekah strolls out of your room in a newly purchased dress or pair of pumps. You simply couldn’t care less. That’s just how things are.

That’s why it doesn’t cross your mind when you pick up a hoodie that someone had lazily draped over the back of a dining room chair. You were freezing and it was there. It’s probably Kol’s. Holding it up, it’s massive. You shake your head. Definitely not Kol’s. There’s a chance it’s Bekah’s but it doesn’t strike you as something she would wear. It's a cream white color with a Cambridge logo. Someone must be feeling sentimental. You settle on it being Klaus, the temperamental artist, pulling the hoodie over your head without a second thought.

You continue on your way to the den, padding barefoot in a pair of lounge shorts and your newly aquired hoodie. It has a familiar scent, one that riles your senses in the most delicious way, but you still can’t place it. Pine and nutmeg. You would think that a surplus of two hundred years with the same people would make you better at this but it hasn’t.

It’s unusually quiet. Considering you didn’t wake up cuddled next to Bekah, you’re already a little off centred. You haven’t woken up alone in years. By now you should have encountered at least two of the brothers and maybe a sister. Kol is usually up early. It’s kind of suspicious. You hear the slightest hum of noise as you get closer to your destination. Nothing crazy, but it’s there.

Entering the den, your questions are answered. Almost everyone is piled in, draped across the couches, sprawled on the floor, curled in armchairs. That’s more like it. Only one person is missing. Elijah. He’s been gone for a few days now. Your heart hammers at the thought of him. His smile flashes through your mind. Your veins sing. Every nerve in your body feels like it’s calling out to him. You seriously need to get that in check.

“Something on your mind, love?” Kol’s voice breaks you from your thoughts.

Of course he heard your heartbeat pick up, he’s a millennium of trained vampire hearing, “I’m fine, don’t worry.”

You walk over to the couch he’s stretched over, tucking yourself under the book he’s holding and into his chest. Cuddles are a big part of the Mikaelson household, just as much as sharing. He smells heavenly too, but different from the sweater. Sweeter, not as earthy. It’s just as lovely. Your mind falls from Eli as Kol places a kiss to your forehead. His arms are cool and you try and keep your pulse in check this time. This whole family has had you enamoured from the moment you first met them.

He nuzzles his chin against your hair, “that’s what we do, hun.”

“I know,” you murmur, your heart slowing back to normal as you pull a comforter from the back of the couch onto your legs. You’re still chilly, he’s not helping much with that.

“Hey, no fair,” Rebekah whines from the floor, “I want cuddles.”

You giggle from Kol’s hold, “guess you should have waited for me this morning then, huh?”

She pouts from her own pile of blankets, giving you puppy eyes. Bekah has perfected that look for centuries. Her blonde hair is piled in a messy bun on the top of her head, a few strands trickling down around her face. She’s wearing one of your t-shirts, the blue one you got at the New York Zoo a few years back. She makes it look like a ballgown.

“Don’t pout, sister, it's not becoming,” Klaus calls from the armchair he’s sat in, his bare chest on display for your viewing pleasure, “besides, I do believe that it’s my turn.”

Klaus is no exception to the Mikaelson charm. He's mischievous and playful. Yes, he can be ruthless and, yes, he did have a reputation for boxing his family members when you first met him, but now he’s different. He cares recklessly, a page he must have taken from Rebekah’s playbook.

Not to mention he’s undeniably gorgeous and he makes your chest flutter every time his blue eyes sear into yours. You are in way too deep.

Kol grumbles, tightening his arms around you before whispering, “can’t I ever have you for five minutes before the wolves descend?”

Naturally, everyone hears his complaints.

“Vampires, Kol, vampires,” Klaus chimes in, a devilish smirk on his lips, “now hand over the girl, brother.”

“Y/n, babes, cuddles please,” Bekah intensifies her pouting and you giggle again.

They’re in an all out war for your attention, but what else is new. Your eyes dart between Bekah and her pile of blankets and Klaus’ outstretched arms. You hate to say it, but the choice is a pretty obvious one.

You rest your head against Kol’s chest, breathing his intoxicating scent one last time, “I promise I’m all yours next time.”

He gives you a tight squeeze in return, “whatever you say, love.”

You wobble slightly as you stand up, readjusting your sweater and pulling it down where it had ridden up. The chilly air nips at your exposed legs as you stumble over to Rebekah, whose arms are now open and waiting. There's a blanket around her shoulders ready to engulf you. You’re more than ready to jump into her little nest.

Klaus’ words stop you though, “that’s a nice sweater, doll, where'd you get it?”

Wait, what?

“It was in the dining room, I figured it was yours,” you more than figured; you had been certain.

His laugh sends tingles flying up your spine, “unfortunately no, love, but I’ll never turn down the opportunity to get you in my clothes.”

“Or out of them,” Kol chirps from the couch, his nose turned into his book without a care in the world about who heard him.

Your cheeks flush at his suggestive words. Not because you aren't used to them, though. Comments like these were quite usual in the Mikaelson household. It wasn’t a normal day if at least one of them didn’t make you want to squeeze your thighs together and jump one, or maybe all, of them. No, you blush because it's been two hundred years of not one of them having actually followed through on anything and it pushes you closer to doing it for them everyday. Especially lately.

His words made your legs tremble but you continued with the topic at hand, “Kol, is it yours?”

He pulls his head from his book, his eyes dark with something you can’t say you haven’t seen before, “I wish.”

The sigh that leaves your lips is not of your own volition. His brown eyes burn into yours, daring you to turn away. You do. Sorry Kol, now is not the time for a staring competition. You cross your legs desperately and put your hands on your hips, looking to Rebekah for relief.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but that’s not my sweater.”

You run a frustrated hand through your hair. You don’t know why this is bugging you so much. Your whole body feels like it's being pulled in every direction by every Mikaelson. Except Elijah, who’s not here. His name in your mind alone, though, is enough to add him to the rest. He doesn’t need to be here for you to feel his pull. Everyone of your senses is on fire right now. The earthy scent hits your nose again and you close your eyes, trying to soak up every last drop. It's driving you mad and you can swear it’s getting stronger, but it’s probably just your sanity wearing thin.

You can hear the flimsy distress in your voice, “then who, pray tell, does it belong to?”

“Me, love,” your head goes fuzzy at the sound of his voice.

You spin around on clumsy legs, practically falling into Elijah, “Eli!”

He catches you easily, pulling you against his hard chest. You don’t hesitate to throw your arms around him, standing on your toes to get closer to him. Even through his suit jacket you can feel how strong he is. You hadn’t heard him come in, too distracted by the other three Mikaelsons in the room. He smells exactly like the sweater, which makes sense now.

He laughs into your hair, squeezing his arms tighter around you, “I missed you too, baby.”

His words make you breathless. They’re so unlike Elijah. Well, not the ‘I miss you’ part. It would be unusual if he didn’t say that. But baby? That’s very much not a word he frequents often.

“Elijah,” his name is a whisper coming from your lips.

Your heart pounds furiously in your chest. Being so close to him makes you delirious. You struggle to keep from pressing your legs together. You know he can read it all over you, they all can, his lazy smirk giving it away. Your face flushes again for what feels like the millionth time today. His eyes darken, the same way Kol’s had, and drag all the way down and back up your body.

He takes your face in one of his hands keeping the other arm hooked around your back, drawing his words out slowly, “you look ravishing in my clothes, baby.”

“Eli, what-”

You’re cut off by a pair of warm lips colliding with your own. His arms wrap once more around you fully, pulling you closer to his hungry mouth. You kiss him back like you haven't been kissed in years, and you haven’t, lacing your fingers through his hair and feverishly pulling his lips harder against yours. It takes everything in you not to moan against his mouth in the middle of the den.

“Awe, no fair Elijah,” you pull back, shocked and breathless, at the sound of Kol’s whiny voice, “I wanted to be the first one.”

He glances over your shoulder, past your wide eyes, at his brother, “too bad, little brother. I gave you two hundred years. You had plenty of time.”

“Well, I’ll be damned if I’m not the second.”

In the blink of an eye you’re in Kol’s arms, being dipped theatrically as he places his own lips where Elijah’s had just been. He tastes different, like berries and honey, whereas Elijah’s lips were peppermint. You kiss him back just as strongly, twisting your fists in his tee and pulling him as close to you as possible. All your senses are consumed by Kol, just as they were Elijah.

When he pulls away, your head is swimming, “I’ve been waiting for that for an eternity, hun.”

His eyes are shining, a huge grin on his pink lips. You haven’t been kissed this much in as long as you can remember. You feel lightheaded, like you’re walking on a cloud. When you peer up at Elijah, he doesn’t look upset. He probably should. You feel guilty for reeling at the new kind of attention.

You feel a hand on your shoulder and you're pulled into a new pair of arms that scoops you into a firm chest.

“My turn, love.”

Klaus’ lips taste like chocolate. Kissing him is, again, different than both his brothers. Playful. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently. You sigh into his mouth, your hands on his face. He spins you around, laughing against your lips. Your heart soars once more. All you can see is Klaus.

When he sets you down, you break away from the three of them, at a loss for both words and air. Your whole body is on fire. Somehow, you can taste all three of them on your lips at once. You can hear your heartbeat furious in your ears. Your eyes dart between them, like a deer in the headlights. Your hand finds your lips. Swollen. But what did you expect? Your legs start shaking again but less out of pleasure and more out of shame. The room feels like it’s shrinking. You wish it would just swallow you already.

You whip your head around to meet Rebekah’s eyes, who looks as shocked as you feel. She sends you a small smile, though, nodding her head. She doesn't seem disappointed, but, then again, you could go on a killing spree and she would still look at you with kind eyes. You grasp at your chest, trying to slow your pulse even slightly. You can’t breathe. Your eyes dart to the door and then back to her eyes. She nods again. Then you bolt.

The Mikaelson boys are fast, they're a thousand years old after all, but you’re determined, and that makes you faster. You just barely close your bedroom door before there's a knock.

“Y/n, it’s Elijah,” his accent flows like honey through the door right to your ears, sending traitorous warmth to your core, “please open the door baby.”

“Why, are you all going to kiss me again?” Your voice is shakey.

You can hear him try to stifle a laugh, “I can if you want me too.”

You huff, frustrated, “I am serious, Eli.”

“It’s just me, love. Let me in?”

That makes you feel the slightest bit better. At least you only have to face one right now. You debate just leaving him out there but he’d probably bust the door down. Elijah is a gentleman but when he wants to talk nothing can get in his way. You run a hand through your hair, trying to make yourself look more presentable, less wanton. You pull the sleeves of the sweater over your hands, trying to hide the shaking.

Opening the door, you come face to face with a half worried Elijah. There’s a small smile on his lips but also a tinge of hesitance in his eyes. You step aside, letting him in before shutting it once more. He grabs your hand leading you towards your bed where he sits on the edge, drawing you to stand between his legs. His hands move to settle on your hips, settling under the hoodie and tracing small circles with his fingers.

“What are you thinking about?”

Your laugh is humourless. What are you thinking about? He can’t be serious. Each of the Mikaelson boys just kissed you, one after the other, all in front of each other, and he wants to know what you're thinking about. The weather Elijah, you’re thinking about the weather. God, you feel so dirty, which you know wasn't their intention but you can’t help it. You feel something for each of them. Something you definitely shouldn't feel. Something you had pushed down for a very long time. It’s hot and throbbing and you don’t think you could bear it if you had to choose between them.

You can’t look him in the eyes, “what do you think I'm thinking about?”

You don’t realize that you’re crying until you open your mouth, your words choppy and broken. As soon as you do, though, it’s like the floodgates have opened. You start sobbing heart wrenching cries, hands over your face, blocking out the now very concerned man. At the thought of losing any of them your lungs constrict. For someone who’s pretty indestructible, you feel like you’re suffocating. You barely register the curse that flies from his mouth before he has you tucked into his arms, his hands sliding over your hair and rubbing your back. Really, doing anything he can to get you to calm down even a little bit.

“Baby, shhh,” he’s frantic, trying to calm you down, “it’s okay love. You’re ok. We’re ok.”

“Eli,” you hiccup into his chest, “what happened out there?”

He holds you tighter against him, “you happened, Y/n. From the moment you walked through our door that’s been it.”

You pull back slightly, finally looking into his eyes, “what are you talking about?”

“We want you. All of us. Kol, Klaus, myself. Hell, even Rebekah is enamoured by you,” he picks you up before sitting back down, still holding you, “Am I too forward in assuming you feel the same?”

Your cheeks flame, the familiar heat returning to your thighs, which are straddling Elijah’s lap, a position you weren’t aware of until now. You wish you were still clueless, though. You positively ache for him, let alone the rest of his brothers.

“I shouldn’t Elijah, it’s not normal,” your hands rest on his shoulders, bringing you to his eye level for once.

He laughs quietly, leaning in close to your face, his breath hot on your lips, “baby, we aren’t normal.”

“How are you okay with this? You should think I’m easy. A tramp,” you cast your eyes downward, landing on his red tie.

He grabs your chin with his hand, forcing you to look at him again, “I would never, could never, see you that way. Love, you’ve been with us for two centuries and haven’t touched us once. You are anything but easy. I have loved you for two hundred years. So have they. If sharing you means I finally get to have you then I am ok with that.”

Your lips are on him the instant the last syllable leaves his lips, your hands curled around his tie pulling his mouth to yours for the second time today. It’s not like you to make any sort of move but if ever there was a time it’s now. He groans into your mouth sending electricity dancing down your spine. You squeeze your thighs hard around him, reveling in the feeling of his hips bucking up to meet your own. His hands slide up underneath his sweater, grasping at your skin desperately. He pulls it up and over your head, tossing it on the floor without a care before attaching his lips to your neck.

“That's what made me cave, baby, seeing you in my clothes,” he mumbles into your skin, hands under your tank top, roaming up your sides.

“Mmph, Elijah,” you can’t stop the moans from flowing freely from your mouth, you don’t want to. You’ve waited for this moment for what feels like an eternity.

Your hands tug on his tie, practically ripping it off his neck before starting on his shirt, pulling it open without a care for the buttons popping off around you. He leans back on his elbows, looking up at you with dark eyes. His hair is a mess, falling into his face in a very un-Elijah fashion. His shirt is wide open, putting his toned stomach on display for you. His breathing is heavy, his chest rising and falling harshly with the air. He looks positively disheveled. Undone just for you. Sexy.

You slam your lips to his once more, pulling the shirt off his body before dropping it on the steadily growing pile of clothes. You wrap your arms around his bare shoulders, trying to get as close to him as you possibly can. Your fingers claw at the bulging muscles of his back, pulling a moan from him. The sound is music to your ears. You wish you could listen to it on a loop all day, every day.

His hands pull at your tank top, bringing it over your head and leaving you in nothing but a pink bralette and your shorts. His eyes devour every inch of bare skin, soaking up every curve and dip of your body on his. He looks exquisite. He looks hungry, his eyes pitch black and wanting. Elijah looks like a god.

His mouth attacks your collarbone, sucking harshly at the skin at the base of your throat. Your hands land in his hair, tugging at the soft strands. You never knew he had this side to him. This dominant, hungry side. It makes the ache between your thighs grow. Two hundred years of pent up energy threatens to spill over now and you don’t want to stop it.

So, of course, now is when someone decides to knock on the door, “Surrender the girl, Elijah, you already got the first kiss. Time to share, brother.”

Make that ‘someones’; Kol chuckles at his brother’s antics from behind the door. Klaus’ voice is playful but you can hear the serious note at the end. It makes your already lust-clouded mind even foggier. You know you have to go out there.

You pull Elijah in for one last kiss, sighing into his parted lips, “that’s my cue I think.”

He presses a kiss to your lips reluctantly, “I suppose it is.”

You stand, separating from him for the first time since he walked into your room. You dig his hoodie from the pile of clothes, reveling in the way his eyes, which had only recently gone back to their usual brown, turn black again when you pull it over your head. That will never get old. You toss him a knowing wink before reaching for the door. When your hand hits the knob he spins you back into his arms in a dizzying kiss. Your head twirls from all the times his lips have been on yours today.

With a slight growl, he pushes you out the door, “hurry back.”

You stumble into the hallway, giddy and full of life, right into Klaus’ waiting arms. He doesn’t waste any time throwing you over his shoulder, giving you the perfect view of his gloriously sculpted backside. You can't help the giggles that fall freely from your lips.

“Finally,” he starts jogging down the hall, towards his room, “now, about that sweater, Love.”

You look over his shoulder at Kol who shakes his head but smiles nonetheless. You barely make out the ‘me next’ he mouths at you before Klaus kicks the door closed and tosses you on his bed. The last thing you think before his mouth descends on yours is that you should have picked up that sweater one hundred years ago.

#the originals #the vampire diaries #tvd #klaus mikaelson #kol mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #The originals #to #rebekah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson x reader #imagine #reader insert

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lightsupinthenorth · 4 years ago

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Harringrove teachers AU part 3

Part 1 - Part 2

Thank you to everyone who read, liked and/or reblogged the previous parts. Also, the people who said something nice in the tags or in reactions own my heart. Just thought you should know ;) <3

Tag list: @twoprettyboys, @inkedplume, @marianaosborne, @liglitterbug, @hmg621 @spreckle @goldenweatherharringrove @yikesharringrove @yogurtfordinner @wingedbears @charlotte-frey @hargrovesharrington

If anyone wants to be added to or taken off the tag list for the future posts of this AU, let me know ;)

I hope the tags are working because I recently had some trouble with them (ah, Tumblr is a mess).

I was planning on keeping the chapters short but every part has been longer than the last so far ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (then again, it’s still pretty short so I guess it’s fine ^^).

I’ll stop rambling now.

Billy didn’t know how he had ended up in this situation, this situation being Steve and he making out in the otherwise empty teachers’ lounge, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. He wanted to keep Steve’s soft lips on his forever. Sadly, he didn’t get his way: there was a loud bang, and suddenly Steve’s lips were gone. Steve was gone too, as well as the teachers’ lounge. Billy woke up at home, in his bed, hard as a rock in the basket-ball shorts he was wearing as pajamas.

Great, he got an erection just from dreaming he and Steve were kissing. What was he? A teenager? That was pathetic.

Billy was considering rubbing one out, despite the embarrassment, but there was another loud bang that made him remember why he had woken up in the first place.

What the fuck was happening this early on a Saturday?

Billy instantly worried Max had fallen or, worse, that someone had broken into the flat and would hurt her (highly improbable in such a small town, but Billy wasn’t alert enough to be logical). The concern killed his arousal in two seconds tops. He shot up from bed and exited his bedroom in a hurry.

He found Max in their open kitchen, mixing what appeared to be pancakes ingredients.

“What was that noise?” He asked, in lieu of a greeting.

“I dropped the pan. Sorry.”

“There were two noises.”

“I dropped the mixing bowl too. Let me live! It’s your fault, you stored both these things on the highest shelf” Max complained.

“Hey, no need for a defense, I’m not accusing you. I was just worried, shitbird.”

“Oh… well, I’m okay.”

“And you’re making pancakes, so I’m certainly not going to complain.” Billy added.

“Who told you I was making some for you?”

Billy pouted, even though he knew Max was bluffing. He could see the amount of batter in the mixing bowl. She had quite an appetite, but there was no way she’d be able to eat all of that on her own.

“So mean, so early in the morning.”

“What can I say, I love messing with you.”

Paradoxically, Billy was happy that she did. When they had first met, he’d been a perpetually angry teenager, and teeny tiny Max had done everything she could to stay out of his way. Once Susan had announced she was ill, though, Billy had tried his hardest to be the brother Max deserved. After Susan’s death, Billy had looked after Max and kept her safe from his father until he had turned legal. He had then fought to get Max away from Neil and had obtained full custody of her.

It had been hard to balance getting his degree, working part-time jobs, and taking care of Max. Even more so with Neil trying to steer trouble every now and again. But they had made it out alright, in the hand, and Billy didn’t regret a second of it.

“Sit your ass down.” Max said as she turned the stove on.

“Oh no, no way. You ‘sit your ass down’. I’ll take it from here.”

Max was good at finding the best recipes and at mixing ingredients, but the cooking process was another thing entirely: she had nearly burned the kitchen down almost every time she had tried using the oven or the stove. Her cooking privileges had been revoked after the fifth time.

“Ugh, fine.”

Billy had two plates full on pancakes in no time. He put one in front of Max and went to sit down with his own on the other side of the table. The second his ass touched his chair, Max asked:

“So, you have plans with Steve and Robin this afternoon?”

Billy frowned.

“First of all, it’s Mrs. Buckley and Mr. Harrington for you”, he started, just to get on her nerves (he didn’t give a fuck how she called her teachers), “and second, how do you know that?”

Max arched an eyebrow.

“You literally talked about it with Steve right in front of me yesterday”, she said, ignoring Billy’s reprimand (no surprise, there).

“Oh… right… I did.”

Truthfully, Billy had stopped paying attention to Max and El the second he had laid eyes on Steve and the dumb spot of blue paint that had been resting on his cheek as if it had any right to.

“So, what are you guys going to do?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re going to grade papers.”

“Well, that’s exciting.”

Her sarcasm was off the charts.

“Tell me about it”, Billy mumbled, around a mouthful of pancake.

“Ew, gross.”

Billy stuffed even more pancake into his mouth, in defiance, before he spoke again:

“So, Art club, uh? What’s up with that?”

They hadn’t had an opportunity to talk about it the day before, because Friday night was movie night, and they had eaten dinner in front of the tv. Plus, Billy would have been too distracted to hold a conversation (Steve hadn’t left his mind).

“Steve said I should come. He noticed I haven’t been speaking to a lot of people, and he said it might help to do an activity in a smaller group…” Max wasn’t looking at Billy as she explained.

“Anyway, I think he was right. He’s the best!” She beamed as she said it, finally looking up from her slowly but surely diminishing pile of pancakes.

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

Billy was glad, really. He was also a bit frustrated that Steve had managed to talk to Max about making friends, when Billy hadn’t known how to bring it up without offending her, but he wasn’t petty enough to show he had a problem with it. Even if Max calling Steve “the best” was treason of the highest order, Billy just wanted her to be happy. If Steve’s intervention helped more than Billy himself could, then so be it.

They finished breakfast, got ready for the day and then went grocery shopping. As they got back to the flat, Max went to her room to chill, and Billy read for a while before he started preparing lunch. Keeping busy distracted him from thinking about seeing Steve in the afternoon. Well, he didn’t think about it too much, at least.

When Billy made his way into the coffee shop, Steve and Robin were already seated, talking animatedly… in another language.

“Hi. Was that Italian?”

They must not have noticed him approaching, because as soon as he greeted them, they stopped talking, and Steve looked up at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Hey Billy”, Robin said, “as a matter of fact, it was.”

“Don’t you teach French and Spanish?”

Billy was perplexed.

“I do. Doesn’t mean I don’t speak Italian.”

“It figures”, Billy shrugged.

He wanted to ask Steve where he had learnt Italian, because it intrigued him. However, he chose not to. He didn’t want to talk to him unless it was necessary. It’d be better for everyone if they had the bare minimum of interactions together, surely.

“Are these new piercings?” Robin asked, gesturing toward his ears.

“Uh, no. I’ve had them for a long time. I just don’t wear them at school.”

“Well, you should. They look really cool, and I’m sure no one would have anything to say about it.”

Billy stared at Steve pointedly, but Steve looked away as soon as he caught his gaze.

“I’ll think about it.” Billy finally said.

Steve and Robin already had their orders, so Billy took his wallet from his bag and went to the counter. He glanced at the display case and eyed the cherry pie with envy, but decided against it. After this morning’s pancakes, it wouldn’t be reasonable. Plus, he hadn’t hit the gym in a few days. He had to start indulging less if he wanted to stay in shape. He went for a simple black coffee. As the burly man behind the counter, whom Billy guessed to be Benny, asked him if he wanted anything else, Billy nearly surrendered, but he powered through. He handed Benny a ten-dollar bill and put the change he was given in one of his pockets.

When Billy went back to their table with his cup of coffee, Steve was blowing on his cup of steaming hot tea. Billy’s eyes caught on the ‘o’ shape of Steve’s lips, which reminded him of his dream. He averted his eyes, praying to God he wasn’t blushing, now that he couldn’t hide it behind his tan anymore (screw Hawkins, Indiana).

As Billy sat down, he noticed Steve had a piece of the pie he’d been eyeing. Not fair. He nearly started pouting but caught himself. After all, his pie-less state was his own fault. Why did he have to be reasonable?

Billy took his pen and the essays he had to grade out of his backpack to give himself something to focus on. But then Steve started eating. And he moaned. Quite obscenely.

“Mh, this is so good. Benny is a magician. You guys want a bite?”

Billy really wanted to say yes, not only because he wanted pie, but because Steve was the one offering. It would have been weird, though? Right?

“No thanks” he ended up saying. What a hard thing to say.

Robin had no such qualms. She needn’t have, since she and Steve were actually friends. Not only did she get to experience Steve warmth and kindness, she also got a bite of his pie. Did she even know how lucky she was?

Billy got into his grading. And he was already past the no-pouting stage of the afternoon. It sucked to be him, sometimes.

“You should probably wait for Steve to finish eating… and drinking too, to be honest, before you put your students’ paper on the table. That man is a disaster.”

Billy had to admit Robin was right. He ate lunch with Steve on a regular basis, and had therefore seen him spill a bunch of things on himself. Thankfully, nothing he had ever spilled had reached Billy, so they were probably safe.

“Oh come on! We’re on opposite ends of the table.” Steve objected.

“I know, but I’m sure you’d find a way.”

Steve scoffed but didn’t try to argue his case any further. He looked adorably ruffled when Robin laughed at his expanse.

They didn’t say anything more for a while, as they were finally doing what they had come here to do. At some point, though, Robin brought up a point one of her students had made about the French translation of “Newspeak” in George Orwell’s 1984, which led her and Billy to launch a discussion about the novel.

Steve offered no input whatsoever, but he had stopped grading and had been staring at them for five minutes straight.

It was making Billy’s skin itch.

At some point, he couldn’t take it anymore and asked:

“What’s your opinion Steve?”

“Uh… I… I don’t really have one.” He stammered, caught off guard.

“How come?”

“I, uh, I haven’t actually read the book.”

“Oh. Well, you should. It’s an amazing book.”

Steve fidgeted with his red pen, repeatedly taking the cap off and then putting it back on.

“Uh… I don’t know about that. It’s not really my thing.”

“How can you know it’s not your thing if you haven’t read it?” Billy asked, a tad defensively.

“I didn’t mean the book… I meant, reading.”

Steve bit his lower lip.

“Why not? Is that beneath a math buff such as yourself, or something?” Billy’s tone had become hostile.

And, by pulling accusations out of his ass like that, he had gone from defensive to straight up aggressive.

“No. ‘course not… It’s just… reading is hard for me… I’m, uh… I’m dyslexic, so…” Steve trailed off, looking down at the pen he was seemingly holding in a vice grip.

Billy was speechless with shame and regret, as Steve offered a wobbly smile and said: “I’m gonna… go get some more tea”, before leaving the table.

Billy stared at his retreating form before he turned to Robin and found her glaring at him. If he could have felt worse than he already did, he would have.

“So… should I go apologize right now or should I leave him alone and apologize later?”

Teenage Billy would have probably not apologized at all, but present-time Billy knew better. He felt like the biggest jerk.

“I’d say, go for it.”

Billy followed Robin’s advice and, with knots in his stomach, he went to Steve, who was waiting for his tea behind the counter.

“Steve, man… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay…” Steve said, but his eyes didn’t leave his own shoes.

That wouldn’t do. Billy had made Steve feel shitty, and he would make it better if it were the last thing he did.

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Billy had let his frustration with Steve get the better of him, and that was unacceptable. Steve was not particularly nice to him, so what? It wasn’t a reason to be outright mean to the guy.

“Really, it’s no big deal… It’s not like it’s a secret… my dyslexia, I mean.”

“Yeah, but you obviously didn’t want to share this piece of info with me, and I should have dropped it.”

“I just… I was afraid you’d find me stupid… But you probably thought I was stupid already, anyway… what with me never having anything interesting to say when Robin and you talk about literature.”

“Hey, I don’t…”

Benny placed Steve’s cup of tea on the counter, cutting Billy mid-sentence.

“It’s on me”, Billy said, fishing his five-dollar bill of change out of his jean’s back pocket and handing it to Benny.

“You didn’t have to.”

Was Steve blushing or was it a trick of the light?

“I want to make it up to you.”

“There’s nothing to make up for, but thanks.”

Steve grabbed his cup of tea and was going to go back to their table, but Billy held him back.

“Wait… I want you to know I don’t find you stupid, okay? I know I’m kind of a jackass, but not enough of one to actually think dyslexic people are stupid.”

“Good to know”, Steve replied.

“So, are we good?”

“I told you, we are.” Steve assured, smiling brighter than he had ever smiled at Billy before.

The knots in Billy’s stomach loosened, and his heart filled with warmth. So that was how it felt, when Steve’s sunshine fell upon you? Billy couldn’t wait to experience that feeling again.

“We should get back to Robin.”

“We should” Billy echoed, before following Steve, awestruck.

#Harringrove #Harringrove teachers AU #Billy Hargrove #Steve Harrington #Max Mayfield #Robin Buckley #Stranger Things

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

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We’ll Be Home For Christmas 5.2 (Bit 2)

From here | Bit 1 | Bit 2

It took me all week to put this little bit together. Work stress messed me around royally. Fortunately I have some time off lined up in a fortnight, so there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

We’re getting there. I have a list of threads I’m tying off as the boys manipulate me along the way. I hope my stressed out writing is up to par with the rest of the fic - that is one downside of pausing mid-fic for any length of time is that the mood shifts and my writing changes. Also, the format of this fic doesn’t really lend itself to the short posts I’ve been doing of late, but it will have to do. I hope you enjoy this little bit anyway.

Thank you to all of you who have answered my little poll on what to write next. This is the result. Those of you who voted for The Hero, I will get there as well. These three fics demand ends even if it has taken me a year (yes, it is reaching that point for The Hero at least). Thank you all for your wonderful support. You guys continue to just be amazing ::hugs you all so much::

This is for @scattergraph It was last year’s @tagsecretsanta fic and it is still being written, now closer to this year’s Christmas. Apparently, it is We’ll Be Finished For Christmas :D Talk about a fic getting totally out of control. Thank you so much for bearing with me on this tome. I love this fic. It has taught me so much. I just hope I can finish it with due credit to the rest of it.

-o-o-o-

There followed an extensive rundown on a random ball of rock and ice currently traversing their solar system.

It was interesting, Virgil had to admit it, and it was great seeing Alan so enthusiastic about it. Of course, once he started on his heroic tale of his and Scott’s encounter with Halley’s Comet, Virgil found himself tuning out.

He’d heard it a few times already.

At some point he was able to drift away from his babbling brother, step out onto the balcony and grab breakfast off the remains of the buffet that had obviously been left out for him. The last of the morning was as beautiful as the rest of the week had been. He had to admit that they had been very lucky.

A glance down at the caldera as he munched on a pastry, most definitely not cooked by his grandmother, and he spotted A Little Lightning resting quietly at her dock.

He found himself staring at the boat. Her yellow stripe, ever so Gordon, her gleaming hull, their short and shared history…

“She’s a good looking ship.”

Virgil nearly jumped out of his skin for the second time in less than half an hour.

Gordon arched an eyebrow up at him. “You okay, Virg? How are you feeling?”

Exasperated. “I’m fine.” He turned away, his eyes dancing across Mateo and its petrel colony.

A bird squawked loudly as if in recognition.

Gordon snorted. “So I hear.”

Virgil glanced back at his brother. “What?”

All innocence. “What?”

“Gordon...” His tone was all warning.

His brother downed his drink. “So, we going to open that pile of presents or are we keeping them as ornaments?”

Virgil frowned. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh. Johnny had to discover a comet to keep Alan distracted while we were waiting.”

“Sorry.”

Gordon rolled his eyes. “Gees, Virg, it’s not a problem, just c’mon. Join us.” And he was being dragged back into the house where everyone had gathered around the Christmas tree.

For the next hour or so it was simply family, friends, gifts and laughter. Scott in particular, was in a jovial mood, his grin an apparent fixture on his face. Mel was never far from him.

It became very clear that Scott, and possibly Gordon, had been Christmas shopping that morning, probably on the other side of the world, because there were presents under the tree that hadn’t been there the night before. There may have been an abuse of International Rescue technology to obtain it all, but the smiles on their guests’ faces when presented with Christmas gifts may have been worth his brothers’ transgressions.

Almost.

Virgil sat on the lounge, a brother either side of his feet peering up at him as he opened a present wrapped in green tissue paper. The material inside was also green and when he held it up, it unfolded into a t-shirt.

Written across the front were the words ‘I’M FINE’.

Behind the curtain of fabric, a brother snorted.

“Gordon.”

“What?”

Virgil exhaled and dropped his hands into his lap with the shirt. Glaring at his grinning brother, he held Gordon’s gaze for a moment before shuffling out of his seat and standing up.

Both Alan and Gordon scampered away from his feet.

“Virg…” Scott’s tone was worried.

Virgil ignored him and continued to glare at Gordon.

The aquanaut’s expression faltered a little and Virgil mentally tagged himself a point.

He then took the trophy by shucking off his shirt and undershirt in front of all of them.

The breeze was cool through the open doors of the balcony as he awkwardly dragged the new t-shirt over his head, aware of every eye in the room staring at him.

He pulled the green material down over his healing incisions and glared at his brothers, starting with Gordon, who appeared somewhat gobsmacked a moment before once again bursting into a grin, and following around the room to each of his other brothers.

He didn’t fail to notice a strange smile on Kayo’s lips as he did so.

“Now, I hope this means I don’t have to keep repeating myself?”

Silence and lots of staring.

A snort from Gordon. “Sure, Virg. We all think you’re pretty fine.” He followed it with a snicker.

There was an odd sound from Penelope’s direction, but when Virgil darted a look at her, she appeared to be smothering a delicate cough.

Her eyes were sparkling at him though.

Oh, for the love of-

“You’re great, Virgil.” Alan was grinning.

“Like china.” John was not even trying to keep a straight face.

“Whatever you say, Virg.” Scott had his arm around Mel and was grinning like a loon.

Somehow the points were being racked up by his brothers now.

His glare turned flat and he lowered himself awkwardly back onto the lounge. He didn’t miss Gordon’s attempt to reach out and help him.

Another glare and Virgil grunted, crossing his arms across his chest in an almost pout. “You’re lucky I love you guys.”

There was an outburst of more laughter. Virgil tried to hold his disgruntled expression, but a kiss by Grandma on the cheek broke his determination.

“You’re a shit, Gordon.”

“And you love me.” Still grinning.

Virgil couldn’t help himself. He grabbed the Fish by the scruff of his neck and wrangled him into a half hugging noogie, messing his hair up royally. Virgil had to admit that Gordon was likely playing along because his big brother certainly wasn’t up to wrestling with him, and as Penelope burst into laughter, Virgil found himself getting soppy.

The noogie turned into a full-on bear hug.

Chlorine scented hair caught in his nostrils.

“Virg?”

“Huh?”

A wheeze. “Need to breathe.”

“All your fault.” He let his brother go.

Gordon sat up on the lounge, straightening his shirt and running his hands through his hair. A glance of fond exasperation and he turned away. “Okay, Allie, time to see that painting.”

“So, it is a painting?” Alan shot off the floor and dashed over to the tree where the huge present was leaning against the wall.

There followed many exclamations at Virgil’s skill in painting Thunderbird Three in flight. Hell, even John put in a request for one of Five, so maybe he managed the stars part of the project accurately enough.

He must remember to ask Alan to grab some shots of John’s ‘bird next time he was up there. Or maybe he would hitch a ride and go up himself.

That thought led to visualising possible compositions, moving Five around in his head, whether he should include Earth in the background, which bit of Earth – Tracy Island, of course – which constellations, what time of year, whether he could lean on artistic license or whether inaccuracies would bug his brother silly. Most likely the latter, so there would be some research involved. Perhaps Alan could help him with that. Actually, that wouldn’t be a bad idea. A good excuse to spend some time with his little brother.

He eyed Alan and the young astronaut turned a questioning look in his direction. Virgil just smiled a little at him.

Alan’s face burst into a grin and Virgil found himself subject to another brotherly hug. “Thank you, Virgil.”

He returned the hug with gusto. “Anytime, Allie.”

Apparently, today was the day for being soppy because he clutched his brother tighter.

Anytime.

-o-o-o-

TBC

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy #kermadec fic

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flamehairedwritings · 4 years ago

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The Fiancé: Chapter Seven

Characters: Steve Rogers x Female Plus-Size Reader

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY

Summary: A lie about your best friend at a Christmas party spirals into world news, but a previously unknown threat leaves you having to now live the lie of Steve Rogers being your fiancé.

Originally based on the prompt ‘Character A’s ex will be at the Christmas Party A is attending. Character B poses as A’s fiancé,’ by @alloftheprompts.

A/N: The whole series will include swearing, alcohol, threat, violence, apartment sharing, protected sex, and more tags to be added!

The Fiancé Masterlist

All Works Masterlist

Read on AO3

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites; credit does not count.

The Interview

THURSDAY

Your alarm going off for the third time is like Hell’s bells itself.

Groaning like you’ve just risen from the dead, you fling your arm out, trying to find your phone amongst the covers. Did you go to sleep holding it? Did you drop it somewhere? Did you put it on the beside tabl─ No, there it is.

Scooping it up, your thumb taps across it, trying to find the section on the screen that will get it to stop, eventually finding it.

Releasing a long, slightly steadying breath, your eyes remain closed as you take stock.

There’s a dull ache in your head, uncomfortable and constant, the champagne and cocktails betraying you. Your skin still feels strange from where you scrubbed it. And...

Today’s the fucking day.

You’ve been dreading it all week. Shoving it to the back of your mind, despite the seemingly constant reminders from everyone around you.

And you know you’re already irritable, a concoction of hungover irritable, barely any sleep irritable and just fucking plain I hate this shit irritable. You’d tossed and turned all night, going over and over and over in your mind what they could ask. You’d thought about Marise, too, about the car attack, about Steve.

Opening your eyes, you roll onto your back and look up at the ceiling.

Marise.

The paint.

The car attack.

Steve has stalkers.

Someone had tried to break in.

That’s a lot for one gal to take in.

Humour is a good coping mechanism... for now.

I wonder if SHIELD will cover my therapy fees.

You want to laugh, but you no longer find any of this ridiculous or dumb.

And today’s the fucking day.

If you don’t get up, Nat will probably just burst in and get you up.

I wonder how she’s doing with all of this.

You make a mental note to actually ask her, and shove the covers off, slowly pushing yourself up in case your head or stomach protests. Thankfully, neither do, but the ache lingers in your mind.

Padding into the bathroom, you turn the light on and inspect the remnants of the night before.

Your outfit, blue and piled on the floor, the blue-tinged cream towels in the sink, and the smell of the paint that lingers in the air. You kick the outfit aside, not wanting to deal with it right now, and take the towels out of the sink, dropping them down onto the floor, too.

That’s this evening’s problem.

You picture yourself getting in later, the interview over, the day done, and you hold onto it, hold onto that, after today, there’s just two days left. Two days and then it’s all over.

—

After showering, and trying to get the last, lingering stains of blue off, you dress and step out of your room. You expect there to be a horde of agents again or a PR team or a stylist or someone like that but... it’s quiet.

All you can hear is the gentle sound of a spoon stirring in a mug.

Moving down the stairs, you glance into the kitchen and there’s Steve, dressed in black jeans, a light blue button up tucked into them, his hair perfect.

It’s always fucking perfect.

He meets your gaze as you reach the bottom step and smiles.

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” you answer, a lot less brightly, and slide into one of the stools at the island, resting your chin in your hands.

A corner of his mouth lifts a little higher as he folds his arms, leaning back against the counter. “How’re you feeling?”

You look up and meet his gaze.

He chuckles and nods. “All right, copy that. Can I get you anything?”

Do you really want to eat? You feel a little queasy, hungover-queasy and nervous-about-an-interview queasy, though you don’t want your stomach to rumble throughout the whole thing. Ugh... Maybe just a drink, then.

“I could do with a glass of water.”

“All right. Let’s get you hydrated again.”

You exhale a long breath as he turns and opens a cupboard, pulling a glass out.

“Where is everyone?” you ask after a moment as he fills it with water.

“I told them not to come until 11.”

You glance at the clock on the wall. That gives you about half an hour of peace, then. You smile your gratitude as he places the glass before you, and you take a long drink as he returns to his position, his arms folding across his broad chest once more.

Slightly breathless, you lower the glass and lick your lips, then look back up at him.

You both smile, his easy, yours a little tight.

There’s that awkwardness again... and that feeling that he’s trying to stay up beat and protect you, that you’re fragile and will shatter at a moments notice.

Well... After yesterday...

“How are you feeling?” you ask before he can have the chance to.

He nods, his tongue running behind his teeth. “Fine. Well...”

You pause, watching him.

He sighs and rests his hands against the edge of the counter behind him. “... Same as you’re feeling, I imagine.”

You give a small smile, playing with your hands in your lap. “Absolutely shit, then?”

He chuckles, raising his eyebrows. “Somethin’ along those lines.”

You nod a few times, looking down at your hands before glancing up at him, a wider smile pulling at your lips. “... We could just run away, you know. You’re an expert at being secretive, I’m dying to go on holiday.”

His smile matches yours. “You think we could make it to the airport before anyone notices?”

You pull a faux face of annoyance. “What, you don’t have a private jet?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Well, it’s the least SHIELD could give you.”

He chuckles, his gaze dropping to the ground as you tap your fingers against your glass, you’re smile lingering.

“Are you nervous?” you ask quietly.

He glances up at you, slightly surprised. “Me? Uh... Yeah, a little.”

“Why? You’ve done interviews before, you did those school videos, and you were part of that show in the 40s.”

“Yeah, but—”

“This isn’t any different.”

He blinks slightly, then shrugs. “Yeah, I guess you’re right, I—”

“No,” you interrupt with a sigh, your heart sinking as you close your eyes for a moment before looking at him. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it into some kind of a competition or invalidate how you feel. Or snap. I know this is just as shitty for you.”

He looks at you, the smile returning to his lips. “It’s all right, I get it. At least we’re in this shittiness together, huh?”

You give a smile, wrapping your hands around the glass.

... Except we’re not. I’m the one finding things out last, I’m the one getting abuse and paint thrown at me, I’m the one who... well, all of that pales in comparison to someone wanting to kill him.

Unreasonable. That’s what you’re being.

God, I hate being irritable.

And you’re going to have to spend the next three hours acting like you’re the happiest person in the entire world.

It’s three hours. We’ll be fine.

—

You don’t fucking feel fine.

In yet another SUV, heading, speeding, more like as Nat’s driving, towards the America Today studio, your stomach is twisting and turning.

I should’ve said I felt sick. Should’ve said yesterday was too much and I can’t cope with today, everyone would have understood.

... Yeah, they would have, and it’s fucking true, you don’t think you can cope with today... but you wouldn’t have been able to forgive yourself. This is the last big chance to find any more suspects.

Suspects, hang on...

Licking your lips, you look at Nat.

“What happened with the person who rammed me and Sam? Where are they?”

“In SHIELDs custody.”

Your eyebrows raise as she doesn’t go on, and you glance at Sam sat beside her. “... So... What’s going on with them, who are they?”

Nat answers. “They’re being interrogated, but they’re not giving up much.”

Sounds like someone I know.

“Are they recognised on any databases, though? Or anything like that?”

Sam shifts in his seat slightly.

“No, they’re not. Not yet.”

You look at her, your stomach sinking. “So...”

It’s Steve who answers this time, your gaze darting to him. “So we might not find out who we’re dealing with and have to rely on guys like the one in custody to give their buddies up and work out the network from there.”

His expression is open and honest, but you wonder how his own words make him feel; that they don’t know the people who want to kill him, that this is a new threat and they might never be able to find them all.

Because it’s made your fucking heart race.

“Right.” Well, I did want honesty. “... Well, guess today’s pretty fucking important then, huh?” you smile, wanting, needing, to lighten the tone.

Steve matches your smile as Nat keeps her eyes on the road and Sam lets out a good-natured chuckle. You glance at Nat.

Yeah, I need to ask her how she’s doing.

The SUV starts to slow and, oh, fuck we’re here. In yet another underground parking lot, I’m sick of these things.

As the guard at the barrier checks Nat’s ID and registers you all, you stare at the back of Sam’s seat. It’s terrifying that they might not know who they’re dealing with, but it’s also the motivation you need to make today go well and smooth and without anyone suspecting anything.

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this...

After you’re waved through, Nat parks on the next level down in a designated space of the quiet, filled lot. As you all get out of the car, Sam the only one staying, there’s the quiet sound of an elevator arriving at the level and the doors sliding open. Heels on concrete echo across the lot and as you round the SUV you’re greeted by the sight of two burly security guards and a beaming woman with brown hair in a tight bun wearing a mint-green pant-suit.

“Good afternoon!” she announces, striding towards you all. “On behalf of America Today, I’d like to welcome you and thank you for choosing us to tell your story!”

You smile automatically as Nat says, “Thanks. Shall we go up?”

She’s already heading towards the elevator and the woman appears briefly flustered before she beams again and gestures for you to follow her. “Of course, everyone’s ready and waiting for you!”

Oh, fuck...

You swallow and your heart pounds against your rib-cage as you all move to the elevator. Then you feel Steve’s hand taking yours, lacing your fingers together. You glance up at him and a corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile which you manage to return.

Right, happy couple.

Or did he do that to comfort me.

I don’t know anymore.

There’s space for you all in the large elevator, you and Steve standing in the middle, your hands still linked, and the woman, Maeve, she introduces herself as, rattles on about there being a small buffet set up if you’re hungry with any kind of drink that you want, to let her know if you need anything, they can run out and get anything, anything at all, everyone’s so happy and excited, this is going to be such a big and historic day and...

As she goes on and on, you stare at the back of one of the security guards, trying to keep your breathing under control. You wouldn’t be surprised if they could all hear your heart. You feel like you can, it pounding in your ears.

You don’t realise that if Steve was an average man, your grip would be considered uncomfortably tight. Instead, he just keeps ahold of your hand, glancing at you, his jaw moving.

He hates that he can’t say anything to comfort you. Then he thinks, hang on...

The elevator slows to a halt, and the doors open. People walk about, talking on phones, talking to each other, you can hear other people calling to each other, the sound of equipment moving. Stepping out of the elevator behind the security guard, you realise you’re on a set, a horde of cameras to the right, obscuring what must be where the interview will be, to the left is a small foyer area and four doors leading into other rooms.

“Righty...” Maeve says as she turns to you all, still beaming. “Steve, if you could follow me, Y/N, Emma here will help you get ready.”

Hang on, what...

Steve’s hand leaves yours as Maeve gestures for him to follow and a woman with a warm smile and short, black, coiled hair approaches. You turn to Steve to give a small smile and maybe crack a joke about never seeing him again, when his hand lifts and settles on the back of your neck. Blinking, you don’t move as he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“See you in a minute, sweetheart,” he says as he draws back with an easy smile, his hand dropping and his eyes twinkling, and all you can do is stare at those fucking broad shoulders as he follows after Maeve because, what.

...

... uh...

Your brain might have actually disappeared.

Happy couple.

Or did he do that to comfort me.

I. Don’t. Know. Any. More.

Emma clears her throat quietly and your gaze darts to her as Nat says, “Y/N.”

“Sorry, what?” Your gaze now darts to Nat, who stands with her arms folded, an eyebrow raised and... oh, no. A faint smirk on her lips.

“Go with Emma.”

Your face warm, you nod and look to her, smiling widely as she does the same. “Sorry, yes, lead the way.”

Hoping she’ll just chalk your moment there down to love-sickness, you follow after her as she takes you to one of the doors.

“How are you doing?” she says as she opens the door for you, letting you go in first, and you raise your eyebrows slightly as you consider the question.

I can be nervous. I can show that I’m nervous. Real fiancée or not, I can be nervous.

“I’m pretty nervous, actually.”

You take a seat in the closest comfortable-looking chair facing a large mirror as she closes the door, and it muffles the sounds of the set.

Thank God.

She smiles empathetically as she opens one of the many bags on the table under the mirror and searches through it, meeting your gaze in the reflection. “I can imagine it is. That’s perfectly normal, though, and everyone here just wants you to be comfortable.”

Everyone but my own brain.

You just return her smile, though, clasping your hands together on your lap. “That’s comforting. How are you?”

Her smile brightens. “I’m fine, thank you, I’m excited. I’ve always been a Cap’ fan, and it’s nice to meet you, too.” Emma’s smile falters a little as her features soften. “I’m so sorry to hear about what happened yesterday.”

As she starts to apply foundation to your face, your gaze shifts to the mirror, looking at yourself. Even you can tell your demeanour changes slightly at the memory. “Thank you.”

The brush on your skin is gentle and light as she blends the foundation in. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you feel that everyone hates you, but I can tell you that’s not true.”

You glance at her in the reflection, quiet.

She sighs softly, leaning back and meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Oh, girl... The world doesn’t hate you, all right? My friends and I were talking about it this morning, hoping you’d be okay and know that that was just one person’s feelings... and from what I’ve read, she’s not exactly... stable.”

As she resumes brushing the foundation on, moving down to blend it into your neck where you know there’s still some patches of faint blue, you swallow hard because 1) you’re hungover and therefore more sensitive than usual, and 2) you forgot how kind people can be.

One negative, albeit horrible, experience has made you forget that.

“Yeah, but, you know... It’s the classic thing of you can hear nice things but you focus on the bad,” you murmur, your hands twisting together in your lap.

“I know. I’m not gonna name-drop but I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had people, people who would surprise you, sit in this very chair and think that the whole world hates them after hearing just a couple of bad things.”

You look at her as she straightens and roots through another bag. Part of you thinks you shouldn’t trust her, shouldn’t be telling her these things because she works for the studio and could tell someone and then it’d be a whole news story that you wouldn’t be able to escape and... But, no. Your feelings are right on this one, and you trust her.

She pulls out a small box of powder and takes another brush, starting to swipe it onto your skin. “My friends and I are huge fans of yours, anyway.”

You exhale a faint laugh as your eyebrows raise. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she beams, brushing at your jaw. “I know we don’t know you, but, I don’t know, we just like you.”

“Well, thanks,” you say with a smile, even though that makes you feel a little strange.

“You’ve got some people in your corner, don’t worry,” Emma nods, straightening up. “Now...” Placing the powder and brush down, she places her hands on her hips. “... Can I do a little eyeshadow?”

“Sure, why not.”

At this moment in time, you’d let her do anything because she’s just so bloody nice.

And maybe it’ll make me look more alive.

You close your eyes as Emma chats away about a TV show she’s been watching, and it’s a nice distraction. For a little while you can pretend you’re having your make-up done and that’s all. She even gives you a head massage, files your nails and paints a clear polish over them, and brushes your outfit down with a lint-roller.

Of course, it doesn’t last long, though.

“... and there we go,” she announces as she stands back, and you open your eyes and look at yourself in the mirror.

Your skin looks smooth, there’s a little blush on your cheeks, she’s swept some eyeshadow over your lids that compliments your eye colour, added a little mascara and eye-liner, and, most importantly, there’s absolutely no blue paint to be seen.

I definitely look more alive.

Looking up at her, the corners of your mouth lift in gratitude. “Thank you, Emma, I look great.”

“Ah, you looked great before, I just added to it.”

As you rise out of the seat, she returns to the door and opens it, holding it for you. “I want you to remember what I said, all right? There are people in your corner.”

Your smile widens as you nod, crossing the room. “I’ll remember it. Thank you so much.”

She inclines her head with a beam. “Don’t worry about it, you’re gonna do great.”

Fuck, I hope so.

The noise of the set returns as you pass through the door, and all your anxieties come flooding back.

Don’t. There are people in your corner.

Nat stands outside the room, her hands clasped together. Turning to you as she hears you and Emma, her lips lift. “Hey, you look good. You want something to eat?”

You had in fact had a little something to eat back at the penthouse, Sam and Nat having arrived at 11 on the dot with a huge box of pastries, and the four of you had sat tearing into them for about half an hour as Sam had gone on about how Christmas shopping got more and more difficult every year, and then you’d gone over potential interview questions.

The thought of eating now, though, just makes you feel queasy. Shaking your head, you join her at her side, folding your arms, almost hugging yourself.

“No, thanks.”

“You want a drink?”

“No, thanks.”

“You wanna get out of here?”

You glance at her, a faint smile on her lips, and you exhale a breath, your own lips twitching a little. “Nah. Steve and I talked about running away this morning already, but we reasoned it’d just be too much of a hassle.”

“Ah, that’s sensible.”

“Yeah, annoyingly.”

Nodding at the nearby couch, she moves to it. “Come on, let’s sit down. Gotta rest my legs while I can.”

Sitting beside her, you finally seize your chance. “So, how’re you doing?”

“I’m fine, thanks, how are you?”

“No, I mean, how are you really?”

Nat side-eyes you, an eyebrow arching a fraction. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but really—”

“Y/N!”

Fucking hell.

Jolting, you look up to find Maeve beaming down at you.

“Wow! Look at you! Emma’s great, isn’t she? Would you like something to drink?”

“Uh, yeah, she is. And, no, thank you.”

“All right, can I get you anything at all?”

She’s just doing her job, she’s just doing her job, she’s just doing her job...

“No, thank you.”

“Oke doke, let me know if you do, I’m just gonna see how Megan’s doing.” With another wide beam, she’s then trotting off to the set.

“Who’s Megan?” you murmur to Nat.

Nat inspects the nails on one hand idly. “The interviewer.”

“Oh.”

Because I’m here to do an interview, that’s right.

“You’re gonna be fine.” It’s like she can read your mind.

Glancing at her, you blow out a breath, looking down at your hands. “I just can’t wait for today to be over.”

“I know. It’s just a twenty minute interview, it’ll be over before you know it.”

Your gaze darts back to her. “What? I thought it was an hour?”

A corner of her mouth twitches. “It was. But then they wouldn’t tell me what they were gonna ask so I cut it down. It means essential questions only.”

I love you.

Your smile widening a little, you nod. “All right, I think I can handle that.”

“Good.” Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she taps on a message, answering swiftly.

Looking down at her phone before quickly looking away before you see anything you’re not meant to, you lick your lips. “... So how’s it going outside?”

“Fine.”

“Is there a big crowd?”

“Yeah.”

“The biggest this week?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Yeah.” She puts her phone away, her arms folding across her chest. “Means there’ll be better cover for anyone wanting to blend in. We’ve got plenty of agents on site, too.”

“Well... That is good.”

She’s about to reply when she looks beyond you and raises her eyebrows. “God, you took your time.”

Turning your head, you pause as you see Steve approaching.

“Sorry, I was signing a few things, filming a few birthday messages, you know...” He looks sheepish and you smile quickly to console him, even as your stomach flutters.

You kissed me.

Technically.

Looking between you both, he returns your smile. “You look nice.”

“Thank you, so do you,” you answer automatically, even though he looks exactly the same because his skin is always smooth anyway and his hair’s always perfect and he’s always fucking gorgeous—

Slow down, stop it.

He opens his mouth when Maeve suddenly appears, again.

“Look at you both! Wonderful! Now, there’s about five minutes to go, so if you’d like to follow me, Megan’s ready, too.”

Five minutes.

You take a breath as you push yourself up, meeting Steve’s gaze. He smiles lightly, almost secretively, then holds out his hand to you.

A fucking life-line.

Sliding your hand into his, you return his smile as he squeezes it gently. Then, you both turn and follow after Maeve.

Nearing the set, your heart is pounding again, your eyes darting about, watching the crew set up and laugh and chat together.

It’s live.

It’s gonna be fucking live.

And I have to convince these people and the world that I’m happily engaged.

“Megan?” Maeve steps away a little as you round one of the cameras, and there the set is.

There’s a large Persian carpet in the centre with a small glass table on it, with three bottles of Fiji water, and three grey, fabric armchairs, one on the left side of the table, two on the other, and a few potted plants. The large window behind it provides the back drop and lighting, though there’s plenty of lights beside the cameras, too, and you can already feel the warmth of them. You suspect this isn’t where they’d usually conduct interviews like this; Nat had probably requested they do it here and this has been thrown together.

The interviewer, Megan Owens, smiles gracefully as she rises from her seat at Maeve’s voice. She’s dressed in a light blue, sleeveless dress with a red belt, coiffed, chestnut hair, and a radiant white smile, and you steel yourself.

Steve’s hand leaves yours as she extends her hand to him, and he takes it.

“Captain Rogers, it’s an honour to meet you,” she enthuses, her voice honey-warm.

“Just Steve is fine,” he insists as he shakes her hand with a smile, “It’s nice to meet you, too, Megan.”

If her perfect beam could have gotten any wider it would have as she simpers, “The pleasure is all mine.” Dropping his hand, her gaze then turns to you, her beam fixed in place. “Oh, and you must be Y/N.”

Duh.

“Hello,” you say brightly as you shake her hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Who am I.

“And lovely to meet you, too.” She shakes your hand lightly before pulling her hand back and raising it, gesturing at the studio. “What an honour it is to have you both here, thank you so much for choosing America Today for the interview, we’re so honoured, really.”

“It’s nothing,” Steve answers, surprising you by his hand returning to yours, lacing your fingers together.

Oh.

Megan gestures at the two grey chairs that are side-by-side. “Please, take a seat, you there, Y/N, and you there, Steve. Get comfortable.”

Hilarious.

As you sit, you in the one closest the window, Steve the one closest to the camera, you clasp your hands together in your lap without thinking.

Megan smiles at you as she crosses her legs. “I take it this is your first ever interview, Y/N.”

Your eyebrows rise as you manage a smile. “What gave it away?”

She laughs lightly as a man appears to smooth down her already perfect hair. “Oh, nothing, we just didn’t find any interviews in our research.”

You feel strange again, and try not to think about strangers searching you on the internet. Two women appear to mic you all up, and Megan continues as if they’re not there. “You’ll be fine. I suppose you can imagine what I’ll ask and the answers will just be about you or Steve so it’ll be nice and easy.”

Oh, I wish.

The woman finishes adjusting your mic and moves away, and you watch the other woman fit a device to Megan’s ear. So the producers can communicate with her, probably. They’ll be sat in a room somewhere, watching, excited. You’re surprised you haven’t met them, then again maybe it’s Nat’s doing. Maybe she’s tried to keep it as underwhelming as possible.

Nice try, but I’m still overwhelmed.

Another woman’s voice suddenly sounds from behind one of the many cameras as the mic woman moves off the set, and your gaze darts over automatically to find the source. “All right, everyone, quiet on set! Megan, you’re on in 5, 4—”

Silence descends. Your eyes dart back to Megan as your mouth dries and your stomach flips and you feel hot.

“ — 3—”

Suddenly, Steve’s hand finds yours in your lap and you grip his tightly, not caring if it’s for comfort or for show.

“— 2...”

Megan tilts her head as she looks into a camera, her hands folded on her lap. “Thank you, Andy and Jean, and good afternoon to you, America, and the world. Here with me today is a couple that needs no introduction. All week, right around the world, we’ve all been discussing them and their upcoming wedding, and now, in an exclusive interview, they’re here with us today to tell us the truth and details in all the speculation.” She looks to you both, her smile widening. “Steve and Y/N, thank you so much for joining us.”

“Thank you for having us,” Steve says as you just smile, hoping to whoever’s listening that you look relaxed.

“I’ll start with what we’ve all been dying to know, how did you two meet?”

Oh, fuck, I’m gonna have to take the lead on this one—

“Well,” Steve begins and God, thank you, “after I finished my rehabilitation with SHIELD, I wanted to find a place of my own for some sense of normality, and I wanted to be closer to the Triskelion, so I moved here and I ended up moving into the same building that Y/N would happen to.”

He’s told this story before, it’s nothing new, so you feel yourself relaxing a little... Except he glances at you, and you know in that split-second he’s judging whether you want him to carry on or whether you want to talk.

Well, I can’t just sit here like a lemon.

This is easy, you know this.

“I moved here after accepting a job offer and just took the first apartment I could,” you say, your voice mercifully steady, looking to Megan with a smile. “The landlord just happened to leave out that Captain America would be my neighbour.”

You’re bolstered suddenly by the surprising sound of quiet laughter from some of the crew.

Megan laughs, too, though hers seems to be more out of politeness. “So no pressure, huh?”

It’s your turn to laugh politely. “No, not at all. But I still didn’t know that when the evening I moved in I did what any good neighbour would do and I knocked on his door to introduce myself.” There’s more quiet laughter again, okay, I’m doing okay. “And he was very polite and kind as I just stared at him for about a minute thinking I’d lost my mind.”

That’s true... Except you leave out the part where you’d babbled in introducing yourself and had practically given him your whole life story out of nerves and embarrassment and just plain not being able to be quiet. He’d listened attentively the whole time and had even asked you, having gently cut off one of your ramblings, if you wanted to come in and sit down.

You’d said no, in horror, before quickly back-pedalling your tone and saying that you just didn’t want to disturb him.

He’d given you that smile and said you weren’t disturbing him at all.

The memory makes your stomach flutter.

“So, you two became friends after that, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve answers, “We just kept bumping into each other and then during one conversation we realised we were both classic film fans so we decided to watch one that was on TV that night together and then it became a weekly thing, and then we were going out for walks, having dinner together and just enjoying each others company.”

... Well, that’s not wrong.

“When did you two realise you were in love?”

You’re prepared for this but it still makes your stomach flip as you take the lead. “I think we just knew, you know? We spent a lot of time together and felt something change and now... here we are.”

You’d all agreed you couldn’t make every answer detailed, so you’re very pleased that you’d decided to make this one vague.

Megan smiles and hums in agreement before her gaze shifts to Steve as her smile widens. “Now, go on, Steve, what is it about Y/N that made you fall in love with her?”

Your breath catches in your throat slightly and Steve releases a polite laugh.

Oh my God, we didn’t prepare for this.

Remembering you’re on camera, your fixed smile widens a little more as you make yourself look at Steve. He glances at you, his eyebrows raising with a smile, before he looks to Megan.

“Well, as Y/N said, sometimes you just know, and who can explain love, right?” Megan hums in agreement. “... But,” Steve continues, his gaze returning to you, “... I think it was her empathy and kindness, her sense of humour, the fact we can talk about absolutely anything until about 2AM, and... just how easy it is to be with her, really.”

You can’t look away from him, your lips slightly parted, your face warm, and he’s not looking away either.

“And what about you, Y/N?”

You blink and look at her, before back to Steve. “Well, I, I would say it’s how comfortable he makes me feel. I can always be myself around him and I don’t feel judged, and he makes me feel valued.” Your smile softens as you look at him. “It’s so easy to be with him, too, there’s honestly no one else I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.”

Oh. Oh, no.

That last part just slips out, but that’s fine, that’s absolutely fine because you’re meant to be in love, that’s fine.

Looking away, your face so fucking hot, you smile at Megan, who looks suitably charmed.

“That’s so lovely. What do you do for work, Y/N?”

Right, this is an easy one, that’s good.

“I work at June & Mayflower Publishing, I’m the Head of Marketing for the branch here in D.C.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Oh, I love it. I’m very lucky to have such great colleagues, too.”

And they’re probably screaming, ‘you’re damn right’, at the TV in the staff-room right now.

“And how do you feel when Steve has to go away for work, Y/N?”

Oh, fuck.

This was something you’d never, ever spoken about, either of you. You’d never told him that it’s always there in the back of your mind when he’s away that he could be hurt, could be captured, could die. How can you say that now, though? On live television and in front of him?

Keep it light, Nat had said when you’d discussed the probability of any difficult questions.

Smiling, my God, my cheeks hurt, you shrug slightly. “I know what I signed up for. His sense of duty and honour is one of the things I love about him, too. Yes, it can be hard being away from each other, sometimes for several weeks, but Dolly always says—”

“Dolly?” Megan interrupts gently.

Your smile is easy now as you nod. “Oh, sorry, my friend Dolly.”

“That’s a lovely name.“

“Yeah, her parents are huge Dolly Parton fans, which, who isn’t, she’s an icon, so they named her after her.”

Megan laughs, and it feels real. “Yes, she is an icon. But do excuse me, please continue.”

“Well, Dolly always says that if it’s right for you and something you really want, then it’ll work out, and Steve and I have and do make it work.”

You feel him squeeze your hand gently as you nod, and you assume it’s to tell you you gave a great answer.

Megan nods. “Well, absolutely, Dolly’s right.”

You all laugh politely, and then Megan’s smile is replaced by a gently sympathetic expression.

“Now, there was an incident last night at the The Venue, wasn’t there. what happened?”

You have to suppress a sigh. “Oh, I was there having a few drinks with two friends, one of them Dolly, the other Bridget, and someone threw paint on me.”

“Paint?” Megan responds with a tone of quiet shock, though you all know she already knew that.

“Yeah, blue paint.”

... For some reason, you’re smiling... maybe because fuck this, you can’t be bothered to spin a sob story.

There are people in your corner.

“I looked like a member of the Blue Man Group.”

Megan laughs, as do some of the crew, and Steve chuckles, and you feel a weight lift from your shoulders.

If I laugh, they haven’t won. In fact...

Waiting for Megan’s laugh to finish, you start to speak before she can.

“In all seriousness, though, I think what happened last night displays an issue we have in our society about how we treat people that we put on a pedestal, the people we consider celebrities. The way we’ve been hounded this week, it’s not healthy for anyone. I’ve had things shouted at me, and thrown at me, from people who don’t even know me but feel entitled to expressing an opinion that they believe is fact, formed from what strangers have written in papers and online and their own assumptions. They don’t know me or Steve, they’re assuming, and as last night showed that can be so dangerous, in fact history has shown it does get dangerous. There’s an obsession that people develop with celebrities that we have to ask ourselves how and why it gets to that point and who’s enabling them, because people have this sense of ownership over people they don’t even know and it’s not right.”

You kept your eyes on Megan as you spoke, so you don’t see the way Steve’s been looking at you.

With pride.

Megan looks quietly impressed, her eyebrows raising a little as she nods. “Wow, there certainly is a discussion to be had there. We’ll have to get you back for that one another time.”

“I’d love to.” You smile and incline your head, finding that you actually would.

“For now, though, you’re both going to be attending the Stark Christmas Party tomorrow night, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Steve takes over, and his hand is still held in both of yours, “We’re both really looking forward to it, it’s been a while since I’ve been to New York.”

“Will it be your first time at the Tower and meeting the Avengers, Y/N?”

“Uh, yes, it’ll be my first time there, and, yes, I suppose so, with all of them together.”

Oh my God, I haven’t even thought about that.

“What a sight that’ll be,” Megan gushes, “Will you be considering the Tower as a venue?”

You glance at Steve, watching his lips twitch. “Ah, no, no, we will not.”

You recall Nat having told you Steve had called it ‘ugly’ right in front of Tony.

“Are you looking for somewhere in Washington, then?”

“Yeah, we both like it here, and it means a lot to us ‘cause it’s where we met, so.” His hand squeezes yours and you look up at him, matching his soft smile.

We’re both acing this looking in love thing.

“Of course. And as for the dress, Y/N...?” She trails off with an expectant smile, and you feign a coy one as you look at her.

“Oh, I can’t speak too much about that, we all like a surprise.”

Don’t we bloody just.

“Oh, how unfair, I guess we’ll all just have to wait for the big day, then,” she laughs. “You were spotted at The Pearl, though...?”

“Yeah, I have been trying some dresses from there, and it’s such a lovely place, the staff are absolutely wonderful, I can’t praise them highly enough.” You smile widely, delighted you could give Sally and the assistants a shout-out. “Oh, and they have just as many dresses and suits in-store for those who are considered ‘plus-sized’ so I can’t recommend them highly enough.”

“Ah, yes, a story got out yesterday about you having to leave a store that didn’t cater, is that true?”

Your lips twitch at the memory. “Yes, it is, which is such a shame because from a business point of view they’re really missing out, and it just makes them look like idiots, to be honest.”

If Megan’s shocked at that she hides it well, and just nods. “Quite right. Well, The Pearl had better be ready for plenty of clients now,” she smiles, raising her eyebrows.

Then, she tilts her head and clasps her hands together on her lap. “Now, and I suppose this follows on from what you were saying about, as you say, people making assumptions, earlier today we did an interview with a co-worker and an old flame of yours.”

You freeze.

“Really?”

Megan nods and points towards where the cameras are. “For our audience, it’ll be airing later today, although it’s up on our website now, but if you could just both watch that screen, I’d be interested to hear what you have to say.”

You feel cold all of a sudden as you look at a TV screen, knowing the world is going to watch you watch your ex-boyfriend and whatever the fuck he has to say.

The screen goes from black to a clip of Joe, in a white button-up and navy tie, hands clasped together on his crossed legs, loose, relaxed, in his element, sitting across from Megan in what looks like a nicer room than this one.

He’s obviously just been asked a question because Joe takes in a breath as he looks up, considering his answer. Smiling almost sympathetically, he looks back to Megan.

“Y/N’s great, she really is. She’s really smart and a lot of fun, she was an absolute sweetheart... but she was quite insecure when we were together. She was quite quiet, and didn’t have much confidence, you know? She was always doubting herself and her work, and I tried to be there for her as much as I could, but there’s only so much you can do. She liked to be with her friends a lot and I just... I got a great job opportunity and had to do what was best for both of us, so I ended it.”

The clip pauses, but you remain staring at the screen, a surge of rage coiling within you.

“That’s classy,” you mutter.

Except you don’t mutter it, because it’s picked up by the microphone and everyone on the planet and universe will have heard it along with everything your ex has just said.

Megan’s eyebrows raise as she looks at you. “Classy?”

You look at her.

Fuck you, Joe.

Licking your lips, you shrug. “If I was all those things or came across that way it’s because that’s how Joe made me feel. He certainly didn’t make me feel happy, or satisfied.” You hear some quiet gasps and laughter. “It’s nice to now be with someone who makes me feel good about myself, despite and because of who I am.” Looking at him, your other hand now covers Steve’s. “He sees all of me and he still loves me.”

“Yes, I do,” he answers without missing a beat, without pausing.

Your breath catches in your throat as your stomach flutters. You hold each others gaze as Megan hums, and it’s only when she speaks that you both finally look away.

“That’s wonderful, that really is. So, I take it you disagree with everything Joe said?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“He went on to suggest, as some people have, that you might be using Steve to further your career, what do you say to that?”

You feel Steve stiffen beside you but you just laugh. “Further my career? In publishing?” You look at him with a grin. “I didn’t know you had any pull in the publishing world.”

A smile blossoms across his features as he chuckles. “What can I say, you gotta have some secrets in a relationship.”

You laugh, the tightness in you chest gone, and as it fades you look back to Megan. “Look, I’m very happy where I am, for now I don’t want to progress any higher. I think it’s Joe who wants to further his career here.”

Despite your laughter, she seems to sense the rage that’s gently simmering in you and nods and smiles brightly. “Well, just one more question, then... When’s the big day?”

Steve answers this time. “We’ll be announcing that very shortly, not much longer to wait, I promise.”

Yeah, two days and then you’ll all find out.

Megan tuts good-naturedly, her smile still fixed in place. “I guess we’ll just have to trust you! And, unfortunately, that’s all we have time for.” Tilting her head, she raises her hands slightly. “Thank you once again for joining us, it’s been an absolute pleasure, and on behalf of everyone at America Today we wish you the warmest of congratulations.”

“Thank you very much,” Steve says as you force a smile, and Megan looks into a camera.

You stare at Megan because she doesn’t say anything else, and then the woman from earlier calls out, “And cut! Thank you, everyone!”

Voices erupt as people call out to one another and some people even clap. Looking up to try and find them, you just smile slightly, and then Megan’s rising out of her seat.

“You both did great,” she says as a woman rushes over to remove her earpiece and her mic. “And, Y/N...” You raise your eyebrows slightly, and she gives a light smile. “... Not bad for your first time.”

You feel yourself relax a little as someone else removes your mic and then Steve’s.

Steve.

Looking to him, he’s looking at the woman removing the mic, smiling and nodding his thanks before she moves away. Then he’s looking at you

His hand is still in yours.

He smiles softly, and you return it.

“Steve! Y/N!”

Oh, Maeve, you’re so good at your job but please leave us alone.

You both look up at her, beaming at you as always.

“That was fantastic! Can we just get a photo of you both and Megan?”

Nodding, slightly dazed because it’s over, it’s over, it’s over, you stand and Steve’s hand slips out of yours. Clearing your throat, you move down the set where Megan’s talking to who you assume is the woman who called out, possibly the director.

Her beam is back in place as she turns to you and stands between you and Steve. You just stare at Maeve’s phone and smile whenever she takes a photo of you three, and she takes several. Three people, two women and a man, come out of another room, and they’re introduced as the producers, and you shake their hands and say hello and receive their thanks and congratulations, and then you take a few photos with them as they thank you over and over again and say how great it was.

Then, thankfully, Nat’s there, talking over Maeve and thanking her and everyone and ushering you and Steve towards the elevator.

Oh my God, we get to go home now.

That was it.

The hardest thing is done.

You’ve done it.

Getting into the elevator, you feel lighter than you have in days, a breath leaving you. The doors slide shut, Maeve and the two security guards in there with you again as Maeve has insisted on seeing you down.

Looking at the doors, you don’t realise there’s a small smile on your lips.

Steve glances at you, and give a small smile of his own.

Then, you feel his hand on your back, rubbing gently. Looking up at him, you share your small, relieved, secretive smile, and you can’t stop your cheeks from warming. Looking away, your teeth grazing over your lower lip, you don’t notice him watching the movement.

The elevator slows to a halt, it chimes, and the doors slide open. As you step out, you spot Sam leaning against the SUV and give him a beam and a wave. He grins and gives you a thumbs up.

Turning to Maeve and the security guards, you, Nat and Steve take turns shaking her hand.

“Thank you so much, really,” she gushes, and, all right, she’s won you over and you’re beaming now. “This was such an incredible day for me, I’m so happy I could look after you and I hope you’ve had a good time.”

Why not.

“We did, Maeve,” you say before either Nat or Steve can answer, and you tilt your head. “Would you like a photo with us?”

Her mouth opens but nothing comes out, and then she’s scrabbling for her phone in her pocket. “Well, I, I wasn’t going to ask, it’s not professional and I’m not really allowed, but seeing as you offered I would absolutely love to.”

Catching Steve’s eye, grinning, you stand by Maeve’s side as Nat takes her phone and lifts it, her lips pressed together.

“All right, ready...”

Maeve’s arms go around you and Steve and she beams at the camera.

Nat taps the screen a few times before lowering the phone and stepping forward, handing it back to her. “There you go.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” she says, almost hugging her phone to her chest. “That’s so kind, thank you.”

As you go to say your goodbyes, you hear the elevator chime again, signalling it’s arrived, and out of instinct you glance over her shoulder to see who it is. The doors slide open and Joe—

Joe steps out with a man in a suit, laughing at something he just said.

You stare at him.

Why is he still here.

Oh... He must be doing other interviews.

... Pure rage surges within you once more.

You don’t hear Steve saying your name as you stride past Maeve towards him. Upon hearing your name, Joe lifts his head, his eyes land on you, and they widen.

“Oh, hey—”

Your hands slam against his chest, gripping the front of his jacket, and you shove him back, pushing him against the wall beside the elevator.

“Why the fuck did you do that, Joe?!” you hiss, “Who the fuck do you think you are?!”

You don’t see it, but Steve, having stepped forward, puts an arm out, halting the security guards and the man with Joe from going to his aid.

Joe stammers as he looks behind you for help, then back to you. “L-Look, I’m, I’m sorry, okay, but I don’t think I said anything that wasn’t truthful—”

“Really?!” You don’t realise you’re practically yelling. “You humiliated me, you told the whole world my insecurities like it was nothing, like you had the right to. You’re a fucking asshole, you always have been, and you didn’t deserve me.”

Releasing him, you step back, your breaths coming quickly, your jaw tight. You go to turn away when he quickly says, “I needed the money, Y/N.”

You scoff as you turn back to him, watching him straighten his jacket. “No, you don’t, Joe, you’re a manager—”

“I lost my job.”

You stare at him, your brow dipping. “What?”

He swallows, one hand going into his pocket, the other playing with his tie. “I was fired. A month ago. I moved back here to stay with a friend and find a new job. Yvette wouldn’t give me my old one back, so...”

You shake your head, your eyebrows raising in incredulity. “So, instead of finding another job, you went on television and humiliated your ex-girlfriend?”

“No, I, well, I didn’t mean to...” He trails off, looking at you helplessly, wanting you to give him an out, the benefit of the doubt, throw him a life-line, like you used to.

Your tongue running over your teeth, you shake your head. “You’re a fucking asshole, Joe.”

Turning away, you smile tightly at Maeve, and say as you pass, “Thank you so much, really, you’ve been great.”

You don’t hear her reply as you carry on striding across the lot, Steve right behind you. Sam gives you a gentle smile and opens the door for you so you can climb straight in. Sitting back, you secure your seat-belt as Nat, Sam and Steve slide into their own seats.

No one speaks as Nat drives to the barrier, and then you’re waved out and onto the main roads.

You’re glad you said that to Joe. So relieved. It’s like a weight off your fucking shoulders, everything you should have said when he dumped you.

But you’re so fucking mad. Fucking livid... at everything. Maybe it’s the hangover. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. Maybe it’s the fucking week. All three is a deadly combination. You don’t care about peoples opinions, you don’t, you try very hard to not pay attention to them or let them get to you and you succeed most times, but Joe has presented an image of you to the world that isn’t you, that you can’t control, and... It’s like the last straw on top of a lot of last straws.

You realise, then.

Even when this is supposedly over, it won’t be. People will still know who you are. You’ll still be Steve’s friend, his neighbour. People will still have an opinion of you. People will still be able to make an assumption about you, scream things at you, throw things at you.

And you thought you’d done well in the interview, but depending on what people want to believe, Joe could have undone all of that.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Nat says suddenly, “I didn’t know they had interviewed Joe, they fucked us over.”

“It’s not your fault, Nat. You’re the one keeping this fucking thing together, you’re doing your best, you all are.”

"You are, too.”

You lift your gaze to Steve. You make yourself take a breath and exhale it as he smiles, and you return it but it’s an effort.

What will we be like after this.

Stop it.

God, I hate hungover, irritable me.

You’d said the night before that you would take all of this if it meant you got to be his friend. And you still would.

So you widen your smile and exhale another breath.

His own features relax as he nods slightly, maybe understanding a little.

“... Man, I was really hopin’ you were gonna knock that guy out,” Sam says, and you glance over at him.

Then, you burst out laughing.

Steve chuckles as Sam looks back at you, his eyes wide. “I’m being serious, I was just waitin’ for it, we can turn around if you like? Finish the little rat off?”

“No,” you insist through your laughter, “As tempting as that is, I just want to get back and nap this hangover off.”

“You sure? I’ll be your second?” Steve chimes in.

“No.” You’re grinning, even as you narrow your eyes at him. “Yelling let me get it all out.”

“All right, all right...” Sam grumbles good-naturedly, then reaches into his jacket. “Here’s your phone, by the way.”

Sam had offered to keep it in the car for you so it’d be one less thing for you to worry and you accept it with a nod.

“Thank you very much.”

Unlocking it, there’s messages from Bridget, Dolly and Aaron, all having responded to things while watching it, and all ended by saying what an asshole Joe is. You spend the rest of the drive replying to them, telling them you’re okay and just looking to have a quiet night in.

You pause before locking it, then you message Yvette, asking if she knew Joe had been fired.

She replies within seconds.

I did. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, didn’t want to upset you, he was fired on the grounds of incompetence basically. At least the whole world knows he’s an idiot now. You were fantastic.

Incompetence. Ha, sounds right.

You tell her not to worry, that you miss her, and thank her.

You’re welcome. And I suppose I miss you, too.

Smiling, you lock your phone just as you arrive back at the penthouse. Leaning over his seat, you hug Sam goodbye, then get out with Steve and Nat, the latter only wanting to go with you up to your door. In the elevator, she leans against the back of it and folds her arms.

“So, how do we feel?”

You and Steve nod in unison, and both say;

“Yeah, good.”

“Fine.”

She nods, her lips twitching slightly. “Good. I think we’re all relieved that’s over. And I’m sorry again about what happened, Y/N, I’m gonna call them later and yell at them.”

“It’s fine, really,” you answer with a slight shrug. “I get they needed to make a story and make it exciting. I’m okay, really. I’m glad I got to do some yelling myself.”

Nat’s lips lift. “Yeah, that must have been very cathartic.”

You can’t stop a smile. “It was.”

The elevator slows to a halt and the doors slide open. She waits until Steve opens the door and she knows everything’s okay inside before she leaves, waving you off and saying she’ll message you later.

You close the door, kick your shoes off, and head down the short hallway, and pause, looking at Steve stood in the living room, his hands in his pockets, a gentle smile on his lips.

“So.”

“So...” you answer, your own smile widening.

He inhales a breath, his eyebrows raising a little. “Thank God that’s over.”

“Yeah.” You fold your arms as you move closer. “It was okay, though, wasn’t it? We did okay, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, I’d say we did. More than okay, actually.” He lifts a hand out of his pocket and gestures at you. “You were great.”

You scoff, shaking your head slightly, only a step or so away now. “Me? What about you, when she hit us with the ‘what made you fall in love’ curveball you were great, you said some really good stuff.”

He shrugs slightly. “Well, they are the things I do like about you, so.”

You look at him, your stomach fluttering and your breath catching in your throat and your lips parting and your heart beating faster and, oh.

His gaze is lingering on you, and he watches your tongue wet your lips.

“Oh.... Well... What I said is what I like about you, too,” you say quietly, watching him.

There’s a pause. Then, he takes a step closer, opens his mouth and—

The sound of his phone ringing makes you jerk and his lips press together, his jaw tight. Clearing your throat as he slides his phone out of his pocket, and he glances from it to you.

“I’m sorry, it’s Buck, I gotta take this—”

“No, no, that’s absolutely fine, take it—”

“You sure? I can—”

“No, take it, it’s fine.” You’re smiling far too widely as you head for the stairs. “I’m gonna take a nap, anyway. Say hello from me!”

“Yeah, I will do.”

You fix your gaze ahead, moving swiftly up the stairs, and he keeps his eyes on you as he accepts the call and raises his phone to his ear.

“You have impeccable fuckin’ timing...” he mutters into it as you disappear into your room and close the door, his gaze finally dropping.

—

After washing your face and changing into more comfortable clothes, you’d closed the curtains and climbed into bed, groaning with relief.

You’d fallen asleep almost instantly, your body and mind delighted to now be able to rest undisturbed. You hadn’t set an alarm so you sleep for a few hours, and by the time you awaken, it’s already getting dark. Hungry and thirsty, you roll out of bed and rub at your face, pulling the door open.

You hear the sounds of the TV, and as you move down the stairs you see Steve sat on one of the couches, his long legs stretched out. Lifting his head, he smiles at the sight of you.

“Hey. Feelin’ any better?”

You yawn even as you nod. “Mhm. Or maybe I’m more tired now, I don’t know. How are you?”

“Fine, thanks.” He watches you as you move into the kitchen, finding something to eat and drink. “Buck’s comin’ over in about half an hour, by the way. He’s bringing alcohol.”

He chuckles as you look up at him and pull a face.

“Hmm, don’t think I could handle any alcohol for a little while. I think I’ll leave you two to it. Just have a bath and then maybe watch a little of something.”

He nods as he rubs at his jaw, watching you lift your glass to your lips and take a sip. “That sounds nice. What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?”

You swallow, his eyes drifting to your throat, before rising swiftly to meet your gaze. “Uhm, shopping for a wedding dress, and a dress for Saturday. Turns out my glad-rags aren’t so glad.”

A corner of his mouth lifts higher than the other. “Okay. How about I cook us dinner tomorrow, we have a quiet night in. Change Thursday Night Classic Movie Night to Friday Night Classic Movie Night just this once?”

Oh... a taste of the past, of normality.

Your lips lift high as you hum. “Mhm, yes, please, that sounds so great.”

His smile widens. “All right. It’s a date.”

You hum a slight laugh as you move to go to the stairs, then your gaze darts back to him.

What.

He’s back to facing the TV, his eyes on it, and you stare at him.

...

Was that just a figure of speech.

It had to be.

We’ve said it before... right?

We must have.

I can’t ask him to confirm what he meant, I’ll look insane.

You carry on moving to the stairs.

Once in your room, you close the door and pause.

It was just a figure of speech.

That’s it.

Moving into the bathroom, you shake it from your mind and turn the taps on on the bath. You find some bubble-bath in the cupboard under the sink and pour some in.

Undressing and getting in, you lie back with a gentle sigh, closing your eyes as the warm water soothes you. It’s nice and quiet, the only sound the gentle sloshing of the water whenever you move slightly.

Date.

Stop it, it’s just a figure of speech. How many times do you say it to Bridge’ and Dolly?

Except today he kissed you on the forehead and said that all the reasons he listed for pretending to be in love with you are actually all the reasons why he likes you.

Stop it. The kiss was just for show, as was the hand holding, or to comfort me, either way, whatever, and the reasons he listed... well...

...

Stop thinking about it.

You spend the next ten minutes in the bath just thinking about anything but today; wondering what dresses you’ll try on tomorrow, what dresses you liked from before, how fun it’s going to be, what you can watch later.

After getting out and draining the tub, you pat yourself dry, moisturise, and change back into comfy clothes. You want to get another drink and more food so you head out again, this time to the sound of masculine laughter.

You’re already smiling by the time you reach the bottom of the stairs, finding Steve and Bucky stood in the kitchen, opening bottles of beer.

“Well, hello there.”

Lifting his head, Bucky smiles as you approach and start rooting through cupboards.

“Hey, kid. How’re you doin’?”

You and he aren’t huggers, but the gentle affection in his smile, tone and his nickname for you is enough.

You turn to him as you close the cupboard, a bag of cookies under your arm. “Oh, you know, living my engaged dream.”

Steve chuckles as Bucky’s smile widens and he leans against the counter. “So I’ve heard. I thought you did really well at the interview, though.”

You snort, setting the cookies on the counter and making yourself a drink.

“No, seriously.” You look up at him as his insistence, and, oh, he is lovely. “You were yourself. Very warm and friendly. Loved what you said about fame and Joe, too.”

You incline your head, giving a slight curtsy that has him smiling again. “Oh. Thank you.”

“Could’ve cracked a few more jokes, though.”

You side-eye him as your lips twitch and you grab your drink, heading for the stairs. “I’ll bear that in mind for next time. I’ll leave you two to it for a while. Have fun.”

“Yep, see ya.”

“Enjoy yourself,” Steve says a second later.

“Oh, I will,” you say with raised brows as you climb the stairs, “Got plenty of episodes to catch up on that duty has kept me from.”

Steve’s smile lingers on his lips as he watches you disappear out of sight. Taking a breath, he then starts to turn back to Bucky.

“So, how’s the—”

“What’s goin’ on.”

His gaze meets Bucky’s as he pauses at his quiet question, his friend’s eyebrows raised slightly.

“... What d’you mean?”

Bucky’s eyebrows rise higher. “With you and her, what’s goin’ on.”

Steve blinks, then lets out a slight scoff, a hand going to his hip as his other settles on the counter. “Nothing.”

“God, you’re still such an awful liar—”

“Oh, come on, don’t give me that shit—”

“You’re tellin’ me the truth, then?”

He presses his lips together. “... It’s complicated it.”

“Is it?” Bucky says, raising his bottle to his lips.

Steve’s jaw moves slightly, and he shakes his head a moment later. “Buck, I... After that letter threatening Y/N, I just—”

“What letter?”

Two sets of eyes dart to you at the top of the stairs, your own staring at them.

You’d forgotten the cookies.

If you’d been a second earlier you’d be having an entirely different conversation.

Bucky straightens, a quiet breath leaving him as Steve’s eyes remain on you, watching you move down the stairs.

“Y/N—”

“What letter, Steve?” you cut in, reaching the bottom step and moving closer, your arms folded, features expressionless.

His jaw moves minutely but he doesn’t look away. “... Six months ago I received a letter about you, threatening you because of our friendship. We had good reason to take it seriously so, don’t worry, we’ve had someone watching you to keep you safe—”

You scoff slightly, as your gaze darts between them, a coldness sweeping over you, not knowing what to process first. “Wait, wait, wait, hang on... I... You’ve had some stranger watching me for six months?”

There’s a beat of silence... then Bucky raises his hand. “Not a stranger, kid.”

You stare at him, your mouth moving slightly. “Every day?”

He shrugs a shoulder as he lowers his hand. “Nat and I take it in turns. As fascinating as you are, I need a day off sometimes.”

You let out an incredulous, slightly dazed laugh, because what the fuck. “Wow, okay... Wow, right, Fury must hate you both, giving you this kind of job when there are more important things out there.”

Silence. They shift slightly.

You look between them again, your smile fading. “... What?”

Steve runs a hand down his mouth with a small sigh before it goes to his hip, his gaze gentle on you. “There were a couple more letters after the first one. With pictures of you going to and from work, out with friends. and, uh... well, some not particularly nice things written with them.”

“Oh.”

Part of you wants to ask what. Part of you wishes you’d never forgotten the damn cookies and come out of your room.

Steve’s features soften as he moves around the counter, taking a step towards you. “Look, you—”

“Uhm...” You look at the ground, feeling slightly sick.

Someone had threatened you. More than once. Because you’re Steve’s friend. And that would hurt him.

So many different emotions are swirling and roiling inside of you, and somene had threatened you and you’d had no idea.

Are you comfortable with that? With that being kept from you?

You don’t know anymore.

“... I think i’m just gonna go to bed,” you say, looking up at them, because you don’t know what else to say. “Have a nice night. It was nice to see you, Buck.”

“You, too,” he answers gently as you retreat back upstairs.

As you climb, you glance at them, and see Steve bow his head, his eyes closed.

—

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cryptidshuffle · 4 years ago

Text

the less we say about it the better - chp 1

ao3

Rating: Teen Fandom: Half-Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware Relationships: Tommy Coolatta & Gordon Freeman, Tommy Coolatta/Gordon Freeman (pre relationship) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Temporary Character Death(its benrey dont worry hes ok), meta about deaths and respawns, arguing about the rules of uno, gay pining, Mutual Pining, fellas is it gay to comfort ur friend who u love and are both boys?, also fair warning it'll eventually be a poly ship with benrey, Autistic Character, Autistic Tommy, ADHD Gordon, everyone is gay and trans, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: “after everything we’ve been through we deserve a few mental break downs.” they are trying to recover after black mesa, but recovery is hard. especially when one of you is still dead

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

They had been out of Black Mesa for a few weeks now. It was difficult trying to acclimate to life after the incident, but they were all making it work.

The science team had gotten together for some sort of game night, something cathartic about being around others who share the same trauma. Anyways, snacks and Uno was just as chaotic as one would imagine with this group of chucklefucks, with competitive tensions high on the last round of the night.

“You can’t stack the draw 4 cards, Gordon,” Bubby argued, smacking Gordon’s hand just as he placed the card.

“Says who?”

“It’s literally against the fucking rules of the game,” Bubby said back.

Tommy agreed with, “It is in the official rules, Mr. Freeman, they- Mattel confirmed it on Twitter.”

“But that’s dumb!” Gordon argued back, “I’ve always played where you can stack those, why change that now?"

Bubby retorted, “Well maybe you’ve always been playing wrong, huh? Ever thought about that, smartass?”

Dr. Coomer chimed in with, “Well on the official page for Uno (card game) on Wikipedia, the free online encyclopedia that anyone can edit, it states that

The following official house rules are suggested in the Uno rulebook, to alter the game:

Progressive Uno: If a draw card is played, and the following player has the same card, they can play that card and "stack" the penalty, which adds to the current penalty and passes it to the following player.[4](Although a +4 cannot be stacked on a +2, or vice versa.)[6] This house rule is so commonly used that there was widespread Twitter surprise in 2019 when Mattel stated that stacking was not part of the standard rules of Uno.[6]”

“Well, there you have it,” Gordon exclaims, interrupting Coomer’s Wikipedia infodump, “Just because it’s a house rule doesn’t mean it’s not a legitimate way of playing."

“What if I don’t want to play with that rule, that’s fuckin stupid,” Bubby grumbles.

“Jesus ok, I'll play a different card, happy?” Gordon says dejectedly, taking back his controversial draw 4 card for a more innocuous one. “It’s your turn anyways.”

Bubby throws down his last card onto the pile. “I win fuckers!!!! Ahahahahaha!"

“You wouldn’t have won if you let me stack the fucking cards,” Gordon said as he threw his losing card pile onto the coffee table.

“Don’t fret Gordon! Bubby is just extremely good at card games,” Dr. Coomer replied.

“You're forgetting I’m a goddamn genius, that extends to my sick-ass Uno skills,” Bubby bragged.

Gordon chuckled, watching the two older scientists get up to leave, and watching Tommy remain, quietly cleaning up the uno deck into neat piles to place in its box.

“Well gentlemen, it’s been fun, though I think it’s time Bubby and I better get going!” Dr. Coomer said.

“No problem, don’t want you two to be late for your old man early-bird breakfast at Golden Corral tomorrow!” Gordon teased.

“Shut the fuck- I’ll kick your ass,” said Bubby.

“Hello Gord- Actually our old man breakfast is not until Saturday! It’s the one day a week I let loose and unhinge my jaws at the buffet like a Burmese Python!” said Dr. Coomer as Bubby grabs his coat and keys.

“That sounds absolutely horrifying,” Gordon laughs.

“It really is,” says Bubby. “Well, see you later asshole,” Bubby says, herding himself and Coomer out the front door.

“See you guys later,” Gordon says.

“Goodbye, Gordon! Goodbye, Tommy,” Coomer also says, before they leave Gordon’s apartment.

Tommy had yet to get up to leave, he stayed sitting in his seat staring into space, and fiddling with the Uno card deck.

“Hey Tommy, you alright man?” he asked gently. At the mention of his name, he was shaken a bit out of his stupor.

“Y-yeah I'm fine Mr. Freeman, why do you ask?”

“I mean you were kinda just staring into space for a bit, and you didn’t say anything when Bubby and Coomer left.”

“Oh shit. Sorry about that, I’ll get out of your hair,” Tommy said, starting to move to leave.

Gordon placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Hey, if something’s bothering you, just know I’m here if you wanna talk about it,” Gordon comforted.

Tommy blushed slightly at the contact and nodded.

“Thank you. I-uh… I’ve just been thinking about things that happened back in Black Mesa and, you know,” he pauses to think for a bit, and sighs, “honestly I’ve been thinking a lot about Benrey.”

Just at the mention of him, Gordon felt his stomach drop with the weight of too many emotions.

“Yeah...I uh… I understand,” he responds with a sad sigh, “anything in particular you’re thinking about him?”

“I don’t know just kind of- Earlier I started thinking about how much he would enjoy game night. And then I started to miss him and realize that- that he’s not here. I feel guilty about killing him and upset at what he did. He was still my friend and I just- I want to know why he did what he did. I just want to understand,” Tommy said.

Gordon looked away as he thought about his own emotions regarding Benrey. He was undeniably angry with him, for getting him ambushed by the bootboys, for getting his arm cut off, frustrated with the constant taunting. Yet… he also felt guilty for some reason and he couldn’t quite place why. Gordon really didn’t want to feel guilty.

“Yeah…” Gordon sighed, “I'll be honest I do feel guilty about it too. I don’t know why because I feel like it should be justified since he did try to kill us. But there were times when him pestering me about my arm felt like… like sincere questioning? I still… I don’t know.”

“Yeah… I think-” Tommy cut himself off, staring at a fixed point in his vision, trying to decide whether or not to bring this up.

“I don’t think Benrey understood how human mortality worked.”

Well, that wasn’t what Gordon expected. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he was from Xen, Mr. Freeman, he wasn’t human. It was different for him. You remember he did die several times, but he came back eventually. He had to wait for his form to regenerate.”

“Wait-” this time Gordon cut Tommy off, “Oh shit, that wasn’t a joke? For some reason I just assumed his talking about respawns and shit was part of his Epic Gamer bit?”

“I mean it was a little but I think… there’s probably a reason Benrey attached himself to video games so much, yeah? He can see himself in the structure. Like, uh- something he can relate to.” Tommy says. “It doesn’t excuse what- what he did, but I feel like knowing why things happened makes- makes them more understandable.”

Gordon leaned back on the couch blown away by the revelation. In hindsight it wasn’t that surprising but it took him a few seconds to come to terms with the reality.

“Yeah, when you put it that way, I guess it does make a lot of sense. Wait though, I swear to god all of you have died at least once, but you guys aren’t from Xen?” Gordon said, now confused about the seeming metanarrative of the mortality of his friends.

“Yeah, but those were weird Black Mesa things, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy said, not elaborating any more than that.

Gordon waited a beat for Tommy to explain more but he said all he needed to.

“I will ask you more about that later, but I do not have the energy to unpack all that right now,” Gordon said with a gentle laugh.

“Wait, getting back on topic real quick, why couldn’t Benrey just... respawn now? Did we really get him that good?”

Tommy looked incredibly sad when Gordon said this, and he regretted it immediately. ‘Damn it Gordon, Tommy’s clearly upset about Benrey, you don’t gotta be an insensitive dick.’

“Well Mr. Freeman, that’s kinda why I’ve been thinking about him,” Tommy said, “I’m not sure. It shouldn’t have taken him this long to respawn. Depending on the amount of damage it takes longer but… It’s been a while and what if- What if he is back but he is mad at all of us and that’s why we haven’t seen him? Or what if it is taking a really long time because we hurt him a whole lot. Or what if we…”

Tommy got quiet for a few seconds, the silence in the room was deafening. For an instance Gordon felt as if making a sound would shatter the air like glass.

Tommy finally said with a whisper, voice thick with choking back tears, “What if we killed him for good? And I don’t- I never see him again?”

It honestly broke Gordon’s heart how distraught Tommy was. Pushing his own complicated Benrey feelings aside, he was gonna focus on Tommy here and now.

“…Tommy, is it ok if I hug you, man?” Gordon couldn’t think of the best way to comfort the other man with words, but physical comfort he could do.

Tommy looked a little surprised at this ask but nodded. Gordon leaned in to hug the other scientist and Tommy collapsed in his embrace, completely breaking down.

Gordon just sat there and held him as Tommy sobbed into his shoulder, trying to comfort the crying man by rubbing circles into his back.

Gordon’s brain processed the things Tommy had said. Was Benrey really gone? Why did he feel guilty about the idea of having killed Benrey, he was fine with the concept during the final boss fight on Xen but now… the thought made him feel… sad? Regretful? Even his seemingly rational justifications didn’t seem as clear at the moment, only thinking of his fonder memories with Benrey.

‘Fuck this,’ he thought as he felt his own tears well up, ‘this isn’t about me, I need to focus on being there for Tommy,’ pushing his own feelings to the back of his mind to be dealt with later.

Tommy eventually calmed down enough where his sobs turned into sniffles, and he started to pull away from the hug.

“S – sorry for having a – a breakdown on your- on your couch Mr. Freeman,” Tommy said, the post-crying mental fog making his stuttering more noticeable. Tommy didn’t really have the effort in him to care.

“Don’t worry about it, man, after everything we’ve been through we deserve a few mental breakdowns,” Gordon joked trying to lighten the mood.

“Oh, that was nothing, Mr. Freeman, in terms of mental breakdowns that was as mild as a first-grade pizza party in the eye of a hurricane,” Tommy compared in a way that made little sense to Gordon, yet ridiculous enough to cause the man to burst out laughing.

“Alright I’ll take your word for it,” Gordon said, still laughing.

“I’m serious Mr. Freeman, once you have a meltdown so intense that you accidentally teleport yourself to an inter-dimensional void, the rest is a cake walk at the school fair,” Tommy said.

“Waitwaitwait- teleport?” he leaned back to look at him in surprise, “Since when could you fuckin teleport!” Gordon asked caught off guard.

“You know, learned some things from my Dad,” Tommy said, again failing to further explain himself.

“…Well alright. Yeah that tracks.”

Gordon was quiet for a moment before responding with, “You know, Tommy, I want you to know I’m here for you if you need anyone to talk to. You were there for me when I was at my lowest in Black Mesa, and I wanna be that friend to you if you need it,” he said giving the other scientists hand a comforting squeeze.

Tommy smiled, “Thank you, that means a lot Mr. Freeman.”

“You know you can call me Gordon, you don’t have to be so formal all the time Dr. Coolatta,” he teased.

Tommy blushed, ‘dammit why did he have to be so cute?’

“Wow Mr. Fr – Gordon are you really gonna make fun of my doctorate that I worked very hard for,” Tommy teased back, still a bit sniffly from crying.

“Dude, I cannot imagine you in college for some reason, what was your doctorate even in” asked Gordon, semi-jokingly, but still a bit serious.

Tommy laughed a bit, wiping the remaining tears away with the back of his hand. “Bio-chemical engineering. Creating Sunkist was for my thesis project.” Normally Tommy would be more then willing to infodump about the topic but he found his energy to be draining fast.

“What the fuck, that’s cooler than mine was. Us nerds in the Theoretical Physics department didn’t do any crazy shit like that,” Gordon said.

“Bold of you to assume I was a nerd, G-Gordon. I was the craziest guy in the frat house,” Tommy said.

Gordon’s memory vaguely recalls Tommy’s insistence that he “do something crazy” when drinking Darnold’s Potion of Grow Gun Arm.

“You know what, yeah, surprisingly I can see that image vividly in my head,” Gordon said. “Real talk though…” he said changing the subject and putting his hand on Tommy’s shoulder, “Are you- uh, ok? Like feeling better?”

Tommy was quiet for a second, eyes flickering down to look at his fidgeting hands in his lap, before replying with, “I’m ok. N-not great, I don’t think, but I will be.”

Gordon nodded. “Tommy, if there’s one nugget of wisdom that I have to share, it’s that healing takes time, things usually turn out to be ok in the end. No matter what’s going on with Benrey…it'll be alright, I’m sure.” Gordon patted his shoulder for emphasis, “not the best advice out there but it’s the best I can come up with straight off the dome. And I don’t wanna seem like I didn’t try to help you out."

Tommy laughed gently, “Thank you Mr. Fr- uh, thank you Gordon. You did help. Even if- if your advice was a bit cheesy.”

“Whatever man, you can’t blame me for trying,” Gordon laughed, playfully shoving Tommy where his hand had previously rested on the other man’s shoulder. Tommy laughed in return. He only noticed the warmth of Gordon’s touch once it was gone.

Tommy absentmindedly noticed the time on the wall clock in Gordon’s apartment. Jesus, 11:30? When did it get so late? The older scientist really hoped he wasn’t overstaying his welcome; While he would love to just stay here and joke around, he had already bothered Mr. Freeman enough and was already exhausted.

“I- I’m probably gonna head back home now, I didn’t realize how late it was,” Tommy said, standing up from his spot next to Gordon.

Gordon nodded. He had the passing thought of offering for Tommy to stay but… maybe that was a step too far. ‘Tommy probably wants his space,’ Gordon rationalized to himself.

He nodded, “Alright, don’t let me keep you,” he said, getting up as well to help Tommy gather his belongings. Which, to be honest Tommy didn’t bring much but some snacks for the group, but Gordon just needed an excuse to do anything.

Gordon walked Tommy to the front door of his apartment, like the good host he was, opening the door for him.

“Thanks for coming over Tommy,” he said.

Tommy nodded. “Thank- thank you again for letting me talk about Benrey, I know it was kinda rough there at the end, but if you ever need to talk about anything… I'm here for you as well.”

Gordon smiled, “Thank you Tommy, I'll keep that in mind.”

Tommy smiled in return, “Have a good night G-Gordon,” he said turning to head to his car.

“Goodnight Tommy.” Gordon turns to head back inside, but before he does, he can’t resist one more jab.

“Thought you could teleport?” he calls out teasingly.

Tommy flips him off, which causes Gordon to laugh harder. “Gives me a headache,” Tommy called back, trying and failing keep a straight face.

Gordon laughs as he waves a final goodbye, turning back inside and closing the door after Tommy waves as well. His thoughts race as he gets ready for bed, trying to ignore his fluttering heartbeat as he lays down for the night.

Tommy shuffles his thoughts in his head as he drives home. The emotional rollercoaster of his already draining social interaction meter from the science team, his Benrey guilt, and his small crush on Gordon was just too much for one day. His hands clench and unclench the steering wheel, looking forward to collapsing in bed for the night, hoping his dad won’t notice he'd been crying.

Somewhere, in an interdimensional void far away from this reality, someone begins to shift awake.

#fanfic #hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #freelatta

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fencesandfrogs · 4 years ago

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cloudtail’s daughter: lionblaze

continuing on with my journey of writing a whole au a posteriori of po3 so that omen of the stars isn't so trash, next character on our list to tackle is lionblaze.

since lionblaze is a fully grown adult by the time omen of the stars starts, i expect this to be much shorter than dovewing, because we had to go dovekit to dovewing (IV). actually, we're skipping straight to him becoming the mentor of ivypaw. because before that it's just him being cold to hollyleaf and mooning over cinderheart.

anyway, if you don't know what i'm rambling on about, this is an au where cloudtail and brightheart have dovekit and ivykit instead of whitewing and birchfall. see my cloudtail's daughter tag for more from this au. this is probably the least self-contained post about it to date since i'm skipping a lot of the first book/lead in to the first book and some major changes happen in there.

section one: mentoring ivypaw, pre-beavers

(i'm dropping the dovekit/dovepaw I, II etc thing because he's always lionblaze)

okay, so basically, ivypaw is a good apprentice but a lil angry, and lionblaze is just a golden retriever. he's just bumbling and loving and unaware of his own strength. (this is definitely tweaking lionblaze's character a little, but...he needs to sustain one and a half books. what do you want from me?)

so mostly he blunders on oblivious until cinderheart is like "hey uhh maybe make sure ur apprentice isn't plotting to murder anyone i gtg my apprentice is seeing things ttyl bye ily"

and as she leaves lionblaze is like "wait did she means she loves me loves me or was it an accident" while ivypaw slowly rips dovepaw's nest to shreds.

section two: dovepaw is away

ivypaw is basically angry all the time. lionblaze is like "huh this is a problem" and actually works with her in a productive way instead of just...aggresively emoting at her.

look, he's not good with emotions, he just thinks he is.

but ivypaw starts to trust him. he really does care about her and he's happy to see her getting better. he's like "huh i didn't teacher those moves" and then he's like "jayfeather! i found the third cat" and jayfeather is like "i literally was treating her scratches ten minutes ago she's just a good student."

am i good teacher?, thinks lionblaze.

no, says jayfeather. but you're not bad.

lionblaze continues to mentor ivypaw. she starts to make friends with the Bs (Blossom, Bumble, and Briar, who are Basically in Background character hell until they're needed), idk. lionblaze starts to talk to hollyleaf a little. jayfeather feels betrayed by this.

lionblaze goes about his life. again, his content is all 50% someone else max, because he just...doesn't get up to much. cinderheart and hollyleaf carry his books. it's not that he's unimportant, it's that ivypaw's drama is what's important, and he's kind of slow about that stuff.

section three: ivypaw and the tribe

so lionblaze's progress with ivypaw is pretty much aborted when dovepaw gets back. both because she's purposely messing up, preventing her from taking her warrior assessment, and because she's all angry and sullen again.

so he volunteers them to go to the tribe with cinderheart and dovepaw. it is only 75% because he wants to spend time with cinderheart, and that overlaps with 75% because of ivypaw. he does think cinderheart will be a good influence, that's the overlapping 50%.

anyway, when ivypaw starts looking less tired, lionblaze cottons on to what's up with the dark forest and is like "yeah that sucks. i can't get you out of this, i'm sorry, but that sucks." and ivypaw? she starts to get better.

lionblaze is proud of his angry little bean. she's growing up to be an angry medium-sized warrior.

section four: love is in the air

lionblaze and cinderheart are mates. they don't have kits yet. that's it.

see this is why his books are early. even though they're kind of boring, his life doesn't get interesting until later, and at that point there are like 14 other more interesting things to be thinking about. sorry, lionblaze. maybe i'll write lionblaze's vacation about you chilling in riverclan for like a month.

section five: riverclan

so after the prophecy is revealed, lionblaze goes to riverclan with, like, idk. blossomfall? bumblestripe? it's not really important this is about lionblaze chilling out see.

lionblaze is kind of like. weight-of-the-world on my shoulders kind of guy. he's always trying to be chill and cheery because he feels like he has to set basically a "good example" and to do that he needs to be positive but then riverclan just is chill and positive.

he's not nearly as useful for fishing as he is hunting, but he does learn to swim pretty well, and he gets a moment saving an apprentice. that's cool. that's a real thing he did that made someone life better. so that's cool.

he enjoys holidays. he just, like, has the time of his life while everyone else is prepping for battle.

see, this is why he doesn't get a book. outside of the militaristic structure of thunderclan, he kind of. turns into a lionblaze colored pile of chilling out.

section five: the rest of lionblaze

it's in canon go read that.

but yeah shortest post in this series to date coming in at under a thousand words which means it's not even getting tagged as long. god bless lionblaze.

#lionblaze #ivypool #hollyleaf #jayfeather #cinderheart #cloudtail's daughter #q #mine #txt #23rd #February #2021 #February 23rd 2021

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cosmicbash · 4 years ago

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Hey, So I'm having a bad week and would really like an outed Kells and Em fic, it could be as angsty or fluffy as you want, I just need a happy ending. A little joy from a situation like that would be really nice right now, Thanks P.S. I've been reading your writing for a while and I think they're really great!! I hope you keep having Inspiration to do so!!!

Sorry I'm so late replying to this!! Ive had a shitty busy week myself and i feel horrible its taken me so long!!

I feel like instagram would be Em and Kelly's downfall. Just because the younger rapper is constantly on it, posting little snippets to interact with his fans, going Live, and of course posting pictures.

Slip ups are inevitable once he and Marshall start spending more and more time together.

Because Colson can't just cut back, when he does that fans start speculating. Questioning why exactly he's suddenly getting more secretive or searching through what he does share with a fine tooth comb to spot a new mystery girlfriend.

So Colson continues posting away on instagram and filming his lives, even when he and Marshall are together. Ignoring the headshakes and looks the older rapper shoots his way everytime he's on live laughing it up.

At first it's awkward, Marshall and him keep alternating who's going to duck into the bathroom or step out for coffee. But eventually they get used to it and comfortable enough that Colson can walk around their hotel room filming while Marshall naps on the couch.

The blonde even gets cheeky enough to start teasing his partner, like snapping photos of their shared brunches, or taking after sex selfies that always get Marshall hiding under the blankets or kicking him.

Really Colson should have seen it coming. You can only fly so close to the sun before you get burned afterall.

The mistakes start piling up soon enough.

Marshall accidentally yelling to ask him something when he's recording a live, Colson walking a bit too close to the couch and flashing the hoodie clad rappers back, the bottom of Marshall's AA necklace in the back of a breakfast shot, and more minor incidents that branch out from there.

At first Colson can just brush the unfamilar voice and thankfully covered up body as one of his assitants or friends. But as soon as that necklace peek gets out the internet does its thing and speculation over a possible collab strikes up.

The assumption being he gave everyone the glimpse on purpose.

Of course he's relieved the public isn't immediately jumping to the crazy possibility of them banging. Even though thats exactly what theyre doing. But him and Marshall AREN'T actually making any music together, and neither of them has publicly squashed their beef. Afterall, what better cover than pretending to still hate eachother?

But now that's all out the window. Colson's lack of an immediate excuse and rapid deletion of the photo just convincing the media their theories are correct.

Paul is of course furious, reaming both of them out over the phone about how they better get on a track together or figure out some new cover. And Diddy, well Diddy rarely comes off his self made throne to speak to Colson, let alone acknowledge most of his success, but the rapper actually does inquire to him about the whole spectacle. And Colson can't help but find himself wishing he had a guy like Paul who knew about them and could just simply yell at him because he still has no idea what to even say.

They settle on quiet ambiguous statements from their labels about how the two of them are working towards mending their beef and that a collaboration isn't exactly out of the question at this moment.

It works. For about a month or two, mostly due to them being apart yet again. The major hype dies down and Colson avoids any and all questions relating to Marshall in his lives and on twitter. The two of them are able to breathe a sigh of relief as temporary as it may be.

Until the next time they make time to see eachother. Colson's got a small charity event in Detroit that he plans on using as an excuse to linger around the city and steal some much needed time with his secret boyfriend.

Of course all eyes are on them yet again, questioning whether the young rapper might also be stopping in to work in some music with his rival.

With paparazzi tailing him more than ever it's impossible for him to just go to Marshall's place like he'd planned. Instead forcing him into renting a suite and wasting most of the day stressing over just how the hell he's supposed to sneak Marshall in with the bastards sitting outside the building like hawks. The other rapper isn't exactly helping either, just sending his usual cryptic texts telling Colson not worry about it but never expanding on what his plan is either.

By the time the blonde finally finishes his busy day and drags himself back to the room he has fully accepted that their rendezvous is not going to happen. Marshall had stopped texting him more than two hours ago and he wasn't about to act even more like a spoiled child by blowing the man's phone up. Colson's just given up. He can't even muster the energy to give the paparazzi outside his hotel more then an annoyed comment about how his life doesn't revolve around collaborations and the finger before slipping inside.

Marshall's presence in his hotel room, already stripped down to his night tee and briefs almost looks like a mirage. But when he shuts the door and crosses the room to bury his face in the other man's neck he smells like ivory soap and that woodsy beard oil the blonde bought him and Colson can't help but hug him closer.

He's so relieved to see him he doesn't even snark back at Marshall's muffled comment that he looks like shit.

The moment is sweet and Colson honestly should have realized it was just the calm before the storm but he's too caught up in complaining about the media and basking in his partner's soft agreements to care.

Before taking off to take his shower he hands Marshall over his phone, suggesting the brunette look through the mess his instragram comment section has become, all the questions and posts he's been tagged in over that little picture and their statements. Because why not? They would inevitably end up laying against eachother in bed scrolling through them all together anyway, at least this way Marshall can get a headstart.

And Marshall does actually swipe through them for a bit, spending more time admiring some of his partners pretty posts than he does reading the never ending stream of comments. The rapper rarely gets on the app himself except to post the occasional merch drop and promo. Social media isn't his forte, and it's not like he could follow Colson's account anyway. Navigating the app and searching for his boyfriends account was too much work when he could just asks for selfies over text.

Thats why when Marshall finishes his browsing and begins backing out of a post back to Colson's homepage he doesn't even care to pay much attention to what he's tapping. The flash of black and loading wheel that lights up the screen completely missed when he tosses it across the bed in lieu of playing around on his own phone.

The livestream he accidentally starts mainly films a blank ceiling through the rest of Colson's shower. The occasional creak and shift on the bed from Marshall's weight and blare of music from his own phones speakers all anyone tuning in can hear.

It doesn't take a brain surgeon for fans to realize the Live has been started unknowingly, but thats not going to stop any of them from filing in.

Maybe if Colson hadn't set his phone to silent the string of text messages might have alerted Marshall to his mistake. But the older rapper relaxes back on the bed less than a foot away blissfully unaware until Colson finally exits the bathroom.

Neither of them notice the phone when Marshall sits up and scoots to the edge of the bed, his body briefly flickering past the frame. They don't see the explosion of comments flying past the screen while they talk and Colson shoves the other man back onto the bed again. Bouncing the phone high enough to almost flip it if fate didn't decide to just scoot it closer to their tangling bodies.

Colson's whole upper body and face is in frame from then on. His cheeks flushed and smile cocky while he straddles his unseen partner. Marshall's fingertips peeking onto the screen where they're tickling the skin covering his ribs.

Its not until after Marshall's sat back up and begun peppering kisses down the front of his throat that he finally catches sight of his half blanket covered phone. An amused accusation about the other rapper trying to sneakily film them prompting Marshall to scoff and reach out for it.

"Probably just the app, shits always opening up to the camera on my phone-"

The rush of comments speeding past the screen and the unmistakeable red dot next to LIVE has Marshall freezing. His wide eyed face fully on screen for 10 seconds before Colson finally pries the phone from his hands to see whats got him so spooked.

Instead of panic, anger is what rushes through Colson's veins. A slew of curses leaving his mouth, before he finally manages to end the live. Phone promptly flying out of his hand against the wall afterwards.

The blonde wants to scream and thrash around. And thats what he does, fingers tearimg at his hair in frustration.

It takes Marshall's fingers softly prying them down for Colson to finally open his eyes again. The utterly terrified look on his partner's face chasing away his residual rage. "Fuck Colson I'm sorry-" its not the first time he's heard Marshall apologize, but it is the first time the man has ever done it while looking so scared of his response.

All the months he'd spent dreaming about his rival making such an expression have nothing on the real thing. And that smug powerful feeling he'd imagined was completely absent now. Just an uncomfortable knot seizing up his chest in it's place.

"I'm not--" his own voice feels tight. Tears threatening to bubble up in his eyes while the reality of the whole situation continues to wash over him. "I'm not mad at you, alright?"

He's mad at the media, at his fans, the rap industry, everything that makes him feel like this little slip up and intimate moment of theirs going viral will ruin their lives.

Colson's sick of hiding who he is and who he's with. Its utter bullshit. Its 2019 for chrissakes, who gives a shit who's banging who? They both make bad ass music either way and liking dick shouldn't change that.

Pushing up off of Marshall, Colson moves to climb off the bed. His hopefully not smashed phone across the room his current focus. But the older rapper snags his wrist and wont let him take more than one step.

And thats when Colson realizes just why Marshall looks so terrified. The man's worried that this is it, that he's going to just leave.

Run away from their problems and abandon the relationship they've been cultivating. Just go full scorched earth.

And that hurts.

So instead the blonde softens his expression and climbs back into bed, onto the other man's lap to hug him tightly. "Fuck Marsh--" He's not about to let the media ruin another relationship. "I love you."

The responding hug is so tight it hurts but Colson doesn't stop. "I fucking love you."

They're falling back onto the bed, legs tangling and Colson's teeth grinding while he rubs his face along the older rapper's shoulder. "I love you"

He doesn't even know what else to say. Now that the words are out it's all his tongue can shape.

"Colson-" Marshall's warm palms are cupping his face, pulling him back so they can stare at eachother

"I love you-" that one hurts the most, maybe because they're eye to eye and just looking at Marshall's soft expression and the possibility of losing it makes him want to crumble. "Please-"

He chokes back a wet sound in the back of his throat before they kiss. Pressing as close as he can, practically trying to glue their mouths together permanently.

Marshall's afraid to lose him just as much. They're idiots for ever thinking it might be a possibilility.

The media can get blown, and so can the industry and their so called fans. The cats out of the bag now and theirs no turning back. If they don't like them together than tough shit. They've both dragged themselves up out of the pits before, this will be no different.

Except, this time they have eachother to lean on.

"I love you to you cornball."

(((Ffffff this sat in my drafts cuz I got distracted by work and life. Im so fucking sorry anon!!!)))

((Also! Thank you anon! For the compliments! Im glad you enjoy my works!))

#emgk #ehhh i dunno where this went #sorry if its not great #been real distracted and busy with work lately #but i hope you can still enjoy it #prompts #asks #i love asks

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 5 years ago

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you feel like home

Post-4.01 fic, includes episode spoilers. After the census and Schneider's big announcement, Penelope tries to come to terms with what her life will look like once she's truly alone. Her efforts do not go as planned, especially once Schneider has more news she wasn't expecting.

Penelope x Schneider, ODAAT. available on ao3 with extra author’s notes.

She held on tight to the bigger questions that had been piling up since Victor’s wedding, when Schneider left her sitting alone in the middle of a perfectly nice conversation. When she watched him and Avery dance as though nothing ever broke between them.

Aren’t you supposed to avoid huge, sudden changes in your life? She wanted to ask him. It can’t really be that simple to start over, can it? Do you miss me as much I miss you?

Ever since Census Brian stopped by her apartment, it felt like the whole world was conspiring to make Penelope feel more alone than she had before. Even when she first separated from Victor, there were parts of her life that kept her focused, that distracted her...that didn’t feel quite like this.

She’d had the kids to look after, her mother to argue with, and Schneider striding into her house at all hours. New job, new empty bed, new medication she resented having to take.

But now she was 42, and her life was settled. Her Mami was proud of her, in her own complicated way. Elena was waiting for college acceptance letters and Alex had a girlfriend. Penelope had never been better at her work, and she might be lonely, but she was used to the loneliness.

Nothing about this was new--so she didn’t know why it was bugging her as much as it was.

She found herself thinking about the year 2030 a lot, not as some abstract concept but as a specific point in time that felt like it was coming right for her. Elena would be in her late twenties, probably far away, and Alex would be independent, too. They wouldn’t need her as much, if at all.

Penelope would like to believe that her Mami would still be behind her curtain, as vibrant and healthy as ever, but she was an NP. She knew time had already been kinder to Lydia Riera than lots of people her age. What were the odds she would stay that lucky?

And then there was Schneider.

It took her a few days after the census to realize she hadn’t even included him in her mental picture of what 2030 would look like.

That was for the best, Penelope thought. He was already visiting less since his reunion with Avery, and now that his girlfriend would be moving in....she doubted that would mean the two of them spending extra time with the family.

They had invited Avery over a lot in the beginning, but she rarely tagged along with Schneider for dinners or game night. Schneider only came down for morning coffee these days if he woke up alone, and Penelope didn’t know if that was because the duo preferred his fancy espresso machine when they were together or if Avery was actually avoiding them.

Whatever the reason, Penelope missed him. She could admit that to herself. But she refused to interfere with Schneider’s happiness, so she wouldn’t be admitting it to him. She texted him more instead, checking in, asking after his AA meetings or wondering if he would make it to movie night.

Aren’t you supposed to avoid huge, sudden changes in your life? She wanted to ask him. It can’t really be that simple to start over, can it? Do you miss me as much I miss you?

It was lonely, Schneider’s absence at the dinner table or on their couch. Especially because no one else in the family seemed to feel it. Her kids were dating, and her mom had whatever platonic thing was still happening with Dr. Berkowitz. Everyone was growing outwards from the roots of their family, and she knew that was how things should be.

Growth was good. Change was healthy. Nobody was doing this to abandon her.

It sucked anyway.

So as 2030 crept into her thoughts whenever she had a spare moment to feel the anxiety and strange sense of grief that heralded her soon-to-be empty nest, Penelope deliberately imagined a Schneider who settled down upstairs with Avery, and kept drifting away.

In ten years, he would be the best friend who was reachable when she really needed him, but not around most of the time. He and Avery would get married, a picture-perfect couple. Maybe they’d stay upstairs, but they probably wouldn’t. He would lease his place to another hipster and they’d move somewhere more upscale to start a family, or adopt purebred dogs, or whatever rich people did when they had endless money and time.

Penelope tried to accept that picture, feel it like it was real, so she could get used to it. She wanted to embed it deep in her heart, where it wouldn’t be able to hurt her as much when it happened.

It made her feel like she had lost Schneider already.

And that left her raw and open and unprepared for his midnight text a few weeks later, asking her to come upstairs.

****

Penelope offered a quick and grateful prayer to the God she only kind of believed in when he opened his door and he wasn’t visibly drunk. She was still waiting for the next relapse--it had only been five months. A part of her might always be waiting for the next relapse.

“Hey, Pen,” he said, stepping back to let her in.

She sat on his couch, realizing as he joined her that his place looked different. Emptier. Less...bright.

Penelope hadn’t visited as often lately; with Avery living there too, boundaries seemed more important. But she knew that the art missing from his walls had been an Avery purchase. Primary colors, splashes and curving lines that probably cost thousands of dollars.

The scarves and hats Avery always seemed to have draped everywhere--chairs, counters, wall hooks--were gone too. The entire apartment was less colorful now.

So was Schneider.

Even his blue eyes looked a little grey tonight, Penelope thought. And asking him felt cruel, when it was obvious what happened. But she knew talking would help.

“Avery moved out,” he said before she got the chance to broach things gently. “A couple hours ago, they picked up the last of her things. I haven’t been able to sleep."

Penelope held herself steady as Schneider leaned against her, staring blankly forward. “I knew you would come. Thanks for that.”

“Whenever you need me,” she reminded him. “I wouldn’t have promised it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Tomorrow’s Wednesday,” he thought out loud after a few moments of silence. “I won’t keep you long, I know you have an early schedule on Wednesdays.”

She blinked, trying to remember if she had told him that. They’d talked so rarely lately, it didn’t seem likely. But Schneider keeping tabs on her wasn’t new--in fact, it was the most familiar and comforting reminder of their friendship she had felt in a while.

“That doesn’t matter,” she told him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay.”

“Did you call Nick?”

“Yeah. I called him after we broke up this morning. The movers took a while,” he added.

“Ah. So she didn’t just...move out.”

“No.” He sighed. “I thought this would bring us closer, but somehow it did the exact opposite. The more time we spent together, the more it didn’t work, and we tried harder to make it work and that just made it hurt more.”

“Oh, Schneider.” Breakups were always hard, but this was his first serious relationship. Of course he fought to keep it; of course he was devastated to lose it again. She reached for his hand and held tight.

“Yeah. Today we were having this stupid fight about scrambled eggs, and both of us sort of stopped in between the yelling and looked around, like what are we even doing right now? And so we stopped yelling, and we talked. About everything since she moved in: how she didn’t want to play games or watch movies with you guys, how scared she is that I’ll relapse and how unprepared she was to live with a recovering alcoholic. About the life she knows she wants eventually, and the one I really don’t.”

Penelope was still holding his hand, but she tried not to squeeze harder on instinct. “Does Avery want kids?”

Schneider shook his head, and she exhaled. “No, it’s not that.”

He knew her, though. Schneider let go of her hand to wrap an arm around her, a silent show of support while he continued.

“She liked that I had real world skills, that I’m more than just another rich guy--but she likes her money, too. Even though it makes her feel guilty. I guess she thought that eventually we were going to move on from this place, and this version of my life, and into one that was more like hers. Ballrooms and regattas and the stuff I tried to get away from.”

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that. She’d be lying if she said she was surprised. But Schneider didn’t need an I told you so. Penelope settled for the truth.

“That sucks, Schneider. I’m really sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re gonna be okay,” she added, with the wisdom of experience and the affection of friendship.

“Sure,” he agreed, his temple resting against the top of her head. The hopelessness underneath his agreement broke her heart.

“You will be,” she insisted. “It’ll take time, but you’ll see."

“No offense, Pen,” Schneider said quietly, “but you were still hoping to have a future with Max a couple of months ago. If you weren’t over him two years after you broke up, I don’t see sunny skies ahead.”

Penelope turned to face him. “Well, you don’t have to. I can see them for you, until you do. And in the meantime, you won’t be alone.”

“Remember that, okay?” She pulled him into a hug. “You’ve got us, always. You’ve got me. And I know what it’s like to survive a terrible breakup.”

Schneider was hugging back, his cheek against her hair. His breath tickled her ear when he replied. “It wasn’t terrible. That’s the worst part. It was barely...anything. Like we used all our feelings up.”

“Pobrecito,” she murmured, rubbing his back and holding on. There was no cure for heartache. And it would be tougher for Schneider, going through it sober again, she thought.

The decision was an easy one--she made it without even considering other options.

“All right,” she said, sitting back up. “You’re staying with us tonight.”

“Pen--”

“No arguments. I won’t hear it, Schneider. This is what family is for. Let’s go.”

The hint of a smile he gave her was barely there, but it was more than she’d seen since she arrived, and Penelope considered it progress.

****

She texted her mom while Schneider grabbed a few things, and Lydia was awake and waiting for them when they arrived downstairs.

“Sit,” she told Schneider. “I will fix you a little something.”

“Lydia, it’s super late. Let’s all just go back to bed.”

“You will sleep better fed,” she chided him. “And I will sleep better if you are fed. You were not at lunch or dinner.”

He sank into the couch, giving up. “Well, then. Thanks.”

Penelope watched as Schneider closed his eyes and relaxed. She knew she had made the right call--now, he was home. With her Mami fussing over him and the kids to look forward to seeing over breakfast in the morning, maybe he really would sleep.

“Lupita,” her Mami said, “You should rest now. I am here.”

She nodded, eyes on Schneider for a few moments longer. Penelope couldn’t have said what she was looking for, but she found it when he seemed to feel her attention and straightened up.

“Your mom’s right, Pen. Go to bed.”

She knew he was remembering the same things she was: his last breakup with Avery, the last time she wasn’t paying close enough attention to his pain, their last long hug on a couch while she tried to comfort him.

“I’ll be right here,” Schneider assured her.

“Good.” The soft, single word was full of all those memories, and fears she only shared with her support group friends. She nodded at them both as she exited to her room.

Exhaustion hit as soon as Penelope shut the door behind her. She had managed to keep it at bay while Schneider needed her, but now it was back, ready to tug her into sleep. She settled into bed, comforted by the faint sounds of her mom fussing over her best friend, and was nearly unconscious when a realization joined the fatigue running through her.

She might not be alone in 2030 after all, her mind whispered. Schneider might still be beside her.

And if that was still a possibility, what would that look like? Without her kids to treat him like a goofy friend, or her mom to treat him like a second son, where would that leave her and Schneider? What would their relationship look like?

What did she want it to look like?

She hadn’t had to think about that, when he was living in bliss with Avery. She hadn’t had to examine the fuzzy edges where her feelings blurred around missing him, and try to understand what they meant.

Now, lying in her dark room alone, it was a picture as clear as the ones Schneider turned into photo puzzles of her family.

By the time the next census came around, Penelope wanted Schneider in the picture with her. Fully. No Photoshop.

She was in love with her best friend.

#alvareider #odaat #penelope x schneider #one day at a time #odaat spoilers #alvareider fic #odaat fic #spoilers #my fic

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writersrealmbts · 5 years ago

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Shattered Pieces: As Time Flies

Description: Time is a funny thing, and life makes it fly by faster than you can think with your mate, cubs, and all the other guys.

Warnings: If you haven’t guessed it by now, there’s a lot of stuff that happens and you’ll need to use your own judgement, if it starts to trigger you or something, just stop reading. It’s okay.

Posted: 11/15/19

Tags: hybrid bts, yoongi x reader

So much Angst/some fluff: 5,250 words

A/N: This isn’t my best quality work, but I had a lot to cover and just wanted to get it over with so I could move on. So, yeah. Have this pathetic excuse for a chapter.

“I can’t be confined to bed, I’ve got four kits, a puppy, a mate and four other men that rely on me to a degree they don’t even understand themselves,” You argued with the doctor, but you knew it was futile before you even tried.

“Look, if you want your kittens to make it, you’re going to have to limit your movement to less than three-hundred steps a day. No stairs, no lifting, no bending, if you aren’t walking, you’re sitting.”

Yeah, Yoongi wasn’t going to let you out of his sight.

“And you need to limit the stress in your environment.”

You tilted your head. “Four kits, a puppy, a mate, and four other men and you want me…” You started laughing. “To limit the stress in my environment?”

“If you want your kittens to survive, yes.”

You shook your head, not having any other response. “I want my mate.”

“Miss—”

“Let. Him. In.” You gritted out, glaring at them.

The doctor finally nodded, and they backed out.

Yoongi rushed in, quickly coming to your side but hovering just before touching you, as if afraid he’ll hurt you. “What’d they say?”

“I’m okay, and the baby is okay, but I’m on bed-rest, and I need to reduce the stress in my environment.”

“Or?”

“Or we might lose the baby,” You whispered, shuddering.

He quickly pressed in to scent you, obviously distressed as well, but it was comforting to have him by your side. “So…it was just stress?”

You shrugged, tucking your head into his neck for safety.

His hand lightly brushed over your stomach. “I know it’ll drive you crazy, but we’ll figure it out, okay?

You nodded. Then you frowned. “Can you get that doctor back in here?”

“Um…I can try?” He looked at you worriedly.

“Please do. She said something, and I…I’m not sure I heard her right. I was upset and I wanted you.” You fidgeted.

He nodded, and quickly kissed you a few times before heading out to find the doctor.

Hoseok came back with him and the nurse that had been with the doctor.

“Sorry, he’s with another patient right now, I understand you had questions?”

“She said kittens, plural, I was under the understanding that I was carrying one? There were no multiples in the ultrasound,” You said carefully.

The nurse’s eyes widened. “Oh?”

You looked at him expectantly.

Yoongi’s eyes were huge.

“We…saw five when we did an ultrasound upon your arrival, which isn’t unusual for cat hybrids, especially your particular breed,” He said, then looked over Yoongi quickly. “And your mate’s. I thought you knew, that’s why you passed out, you were suffering from deficiencies related to your pregnancy as well as stress.”

Hoseok caught Yoongi before he hit the floor, but he looked pretty stunned as well.

“Five?!”

———

Jin stared. “Five?! You’re going to have quintuplets?”

“Apparently it’s a fairly normal occurrence for mine and yoongi’s breeds of hybrid,” You grumbled, curling up more.

He shook his head. “And Hoseok’s the only other one that knows?”

“Yeah. We haven’t called the others yet. We aren’t sure how to tell them. One was going to be hard enough, but five?”

“And you’re considered a risky pregnancy now?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Strict bed rest.”

“Has Yoongi said anything yet?”

“Incoherent babble. Hoseok’s walking him around the block and making him drink a bottle of water before bringing him back. You have excellent timing.” You sighed and fussed at the blankets. “But where’s Jungkook?”

“When we heard you were at the hospital, I came here, he want back to the house.” He looked away, fidgeting.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered.

He looked back at you, confused.

You shook your head. “This probably didn’t help you much.”

He smiled a bit. “I told you. I’m okay today. I’m not that worried about the future of having five more kits to take care of. It’s just…Jungkook.”

You pointed to the extra pillow and he handed to you so that you could curl up a little more comfortably while looking at him. Waiting for him to continue.

“I went this time because of the interview, but also because I was worried about hurting him. He was crying before I got back to the apartment, after you called. Not when I got there, but I could tell he had been. He’s so strong, but I feel like he gets more fragile with every passing week and I can’t help but worry that I’m the one doing that to him. I tried to push him, to take care of himself, especially when I was having good days. But he always came back to me, and I…I can’t….” He sighed. “If I become the reason he breaks, I think it might kill me.”

You bit your lip, letting the silence stretch because you knew he wasn’t done talking it out.

He looked at the ceiling. “You know, it’s stupid. I snuck out because I really just…I wanted to get drunk and hook up with someone and just be…normal? I get to the damn bar, and all I can hear is Jungkook saying that depressed people shouldn’t drink because alcohol is a depressant and telling me we should go to the arcade instead because gaming doesn’t need alcohol to be fun, so I go there and I’m bored because I don’t have anyone to play the games with. I tried to give him space, and yet he’s still in my head, chirping that I should try eating good food to cheer myself up but it’s past midnight and the arcade is closing and I can’t think of where to go to find good food so instead I go back to the apartment, and sitting on the counter is ramyun and Jungkook loves ramyun and makes it really well. But he’s not there. He’s not there, and I know why, and it’s my fault because I tried to be a good…whatever I am and make sure he took care of himself. But I’m weak. I hated being there without him. I hated it. What’s wrong with me?”

“Um…kind of…sounds like you’re in—”

“Don’t say it!” Jin said, looking scared. “I know where you’re going with that sentence and don’t. Don’t…I can’t be…I…I practically raised him…he’s my brother….”

“At least you’re not actually related?” You pointed out.

He groaned. “Stop. This isn’t happening.”

“What’s not happening?” Hoseok asked, leading Yoongi in, the latter of which walked zombie-like to your side and crawled on to spoon you like he didn’t know what else to do with himself.

“Nothing,” You answered instead. “Has he made sense yet?”

“Well, he muttered something about five mouths being a lot to feed on a journalist’s paycheck, but that’s about it.” Hoseok sat beside Jin, resting an arm around Jin’s shoulders.

Jin leaned into the touch, holding your gaze. “Do you want us to leave you two alone to talk?”

“Nah, I think he’s going to sleep and I couldn’t sleep if I wanted to. Keep me company. Help me figure out what to say to everyone else.”

Hoseok shrugged. “Probably just rip the bandage off. Preferably while they’re sitting so that we don’t have to worry about head injuries.”

You sighed and nodded. “Do I have to do it?”

“Nope. We’ll make Yoongi do it tonight when we go home.”

“Not leaving,” Yoongi growled.

“You don’t have a choice, hyung, no visitors after hours. We’ll be back as soon as we can and she’s getting released in the morning. They just want to keep her under observation for the night. Besides, I think we have to move some things around if she’s not allowed to use the stairs.”

Yoongi cussed under his breath, kissing your nape. “I’m not gonna sleep.”

“You should try to—” You started arguing, but he cut you off.

“I won’t be able to. Not while you’re here.” He growled a little, but it was more upset than grumpy.

You rubbed his arm, sighing softly. “I won’t either, but that’s because this place smells and they’ve scheduled me to have extra medicine and crap in the middle of the night.”

“Hospitals are the worst,” Yoongi grumbled.

“We’ll have to deal with it for the kittens, there’s no way I’m having a home-birth. Not with five. Too risky.”

He shuddered. “Agreed. But I’ve heard there are special birthing clinics nowadays. Maybe we can go to one of those instead?”

“We can look into it,” You agreed.

——

Apparently, Heiran hadn’t released Jin since he stepped foot in the house, but she did once you were settled into the bed in yours and Yoongi’s room, which had been entirely relocated into the empty bedroom next to Misuk’s nursery on the first floor that had previously been used for storage.

All of your cubs were curled up around you that first day you were back, and quite often throughout the weeks and months that followed, no matter where you ended up.

Things were crazy, but the guys had really stepped up, despite their own lives getting busier.

VRM Fashion had started trending like crazy and Yoongi had started helping them for some extra cash since they were always short on photographers. Jin and Jungkook sometimes got roped into modeling for them as well when their male models fell-through.

Jin also had a part-time job at a company, and it wasn’t great but he liked having a job again.

Since it was summer, the kids didn’t really have lessons, but you worked with Jungkook and Hoseok to make sure the kids brains were stimulated from your stuck position. Sitting, laying down, and wishing you could walk more than three hundred steps.

The nursery looked crowded with five cribs, and the boys were already stock-piling diapers.

Yoongi had found and arranged for you to go to a special birthing house for cat-hybrids, just as medically equipped as a hospital with less germs and more specialized knowledge. When you met with them, they didn’t seem at all surprised at you being pregnant with quintuplets, but they took the concerns presented by your doctors in stride before showing you one of the nesting-rooms.

Summer flew by as your stomach inflated to an unreal size and five little bodies kicked at your stomach.

You weren’t even surprised when you went into labor early, getting to the clinic and nesting with the blankets and such that Yoongi remembered to bring from home.

One was stillborn.

But the other four were alive. Two boys. Two girls. The stillborn had been another girl.

You had known it was a risk with having multiples, and with your condition throughout your pregnancy.

“We never thought of names,” You whispered the first morning after, as you and Yoongi carefully held them all after finishing feeding.

He just purred in amusement.

Yerin and Soyoung for the girls, Cheolmin and Hyunseok for the boys.

Hyunseok had a heart defect, and the doctors were worried about his chances.

Jowoon was enamored with their existence, while Heiran was confused, but happy that she could hug you again without your stomach getting in the way.

Jihun was your helper, always willing to hold one, just like he did with Misuk, who was oblivious to this change.

He held your hand tightly while they buried Hyunseok.

“I should be more upset,” You whispered to your therapist one day. They’d forced you back in June to meet with a therapist to try and help reduce your stress levels, and you’d chosen the one Jin recommended. “I know I should. I lost two of my babies. I have five cribs, and three babies. I buried my baby after two weeks with him. But…even though I’m sad, and I wish that he’d made it, I’m also so happy because of my other three, and my cubs. Misuk is talking up a storm and she’s been telling babble stories to the babes and it’s adorable. And Jowoon is such an eager learner, and Heiran’s and Jihun are growing up so well. And the guys, and Yoongi, they’re doing well. Yoongi…he’s more affected by it than me….”

“Don’t compare what you perceive his level of grief to be to your own,” She suggested gently. “Do you feel at peace with Hyunseok’s passing?”

You nodded. “I do. We knew that he could die, and…I think he would have been in more pain than I could bear if he survived infancy. And…my stillborn daughter…I knew it was a risk, and I knew I was lucky that the four were born alive given my condition in early June. The risk is always higher for twin and triplets, how much more so with quintuplets.” You sighed.

“Have you told Yoongi your thoughts on all of this?”

You nodded.

“And how did he react?”

“He listened. He was really quiet. Then he nodded, told me he loved me, kissed me on the forehead and didn’t really say anything else about it.”

“And the other boys? How did they take Hyunseok’s passing?”

You shrugged. “They were upset.”

“Do you feel things aren’t right?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “There are other things that play into it, too. Like Jin and Jungkook. I’m pretty sure Jin is in love with Jungkook, but he’s trying not to be and so he keeps pushing Jungkook away and then pulling him close again and Jungkook’s just worried every time he’s pushed away because he’s oblivious, and then Taehyung is dating someone new and Namjoon doesn’t approve so they’ve been fighting on and off, and….”

“And you’re trying to fix everything again even though you know you can’t?”

You nodded. “It’s been a year since I met all of them, you know, and everything is so drastically different from then.”

“How so?”

“Well, for one thing, I was a little terrified of bunnies because I’d been teaching a school full of them before going to work for them as a tutor and I didn’t have much fur on my tail from it getting abused by said bunnies. They were still reeling from the loss of their brother and his wife. Heiran wasn’t speaking. I was…kind of lost. But I’m not now. I’ve never felt more…fulfilled.”

“Everyone grieves differently. You’ve accepted his death, and that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt, it just means you understand why it hurts. You’re at peace with it, and that’s okay. You need to talk to Yoongi, because I think you need to have clarity on what is going through his head. If he’s not ready to talk about it, don’t push him. As for the others, it’s not your job to fix them. They’ll figure things out eventually, especially if they’re as close as you describe.”

You sighed and nodded.

Taehyung looked up as you walked into the living room later that evening. He was holding Soyoung. “Hey, how was your appointment?”

“Fine, mostly just me sorting my own thoughts.” You went and sat beside him, kissing the top of your babe’s head.

“Are you okay?” He asked, sounding more concerned.

You smiled. “I’m fine. Really. I’m actually more worried about you and Namjoon.”

“Oh, we’re good. He was right. I dumped her.” He shrugged, looking down at Soyoung.

You huffed out a laugh. “Figures.”

“I’m more concerned about Jin. He’s dropped off the face of the earth again. For all of us. He’s not answering calls, he wasn’t at work, and he’s not at the apartment.”

You pulled out your phone and quickly called Jin.

Taehyung looked surprised when it actually rang.

“Hello?”

“Jin? Where are you?” You asked, leaving Taehyung’s side so he couldn’t eavesdrop.

“Carriage house.”

“Why?”

He was quiet for a moment. “Didn’t want to face people. Didn’t have anywhere else to go where they wouldn’t look for me.”

“What happened?”

“Got fired. Again.”

You waited, hearing something more in the silence. “And?”

“I got drunk. I slept with someone.”

You bit your cheek.

“It was way worse. It was really bad.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m coming over.”

“Y/n—”

“I’m coming over,” You repeated and then hung up. “Jungkook?”

He hopped in with Jowoon on his shoulders. “Yeah?”

“Come on. I need you to help me with Jin.”

“Hyung? You’ve heard from him?”

“She called him and he answered,” Taehyung said, sounding a little bitter.

“Because I made him promise me he would always answer my calls. Jowoonie, I need to steal Jungkookie.”

“M’kay mumma,” He murmured happily and bounded over to Taehyung, crawling up onto the couch and purring over the baby.

Jungkook followed you. “Where is he? Is he okay? What’s wrong?”

“He got fired again, and…” You turned so that you were facing him. “He was hurting, and he got drunk. He slept with someone and he’s not…he’s not coping.”

Jungkook’s jaw set. “Where is he.”

“Carriage house.”

He pushed past you, ignoring your warnings, staying ahead of you the whole time. He marched into the carriage house room, bursting in and startling Jin, strode over to the elder and tackled him in a hug onto the bed. “Stupid. Stupid bunny. Stupid hyung-y bunny. Need to stop worrying me.”

You watched from a few feet away, suddenly worrying you were intruding.

“You told him?” Jin whispered, looking devastated.

“She can’t help you on her own, hyung. She’s only one person.”

Jin searched your face.

You shook your head. No. You didn’t tell Jungkook that Jin was in love with him.

Jungkook saw the exchange. “Or is there something besides you sleeping with some stranger after getting fired that you want to tell me?”

Jin started shivering.

You went over and covered them both up with blankets. You kissed Jin’s forehead. “Tell him, Jin. Please.”

Jungkook looked between the two of you, and he pulled Jin even closer, starting to look scared. “Hyung. You’re not sick, right? Oh God, please tell me you’re not dying.”

“No, I’m…I’m not ill. I don’t have any life-threatening diseases.” Jin quickly reassured. “It’s…something else.”

“Maybe I should—” You started saying softly but Jin looked up at you desperately, shaking his head.

“Please don’t go.”

You took a deep breath, then nodded.

Jungkook looked confused. “Hyung? What’s wrong?”

“Jungkook…you…you know that I’m….”

Jungkook blinked blankly at him.

“Bi?”

Jungkook nodded, blinking cutely as he did.

Jin seemed lost on how to proceed.

Jungkook was every oblivious. “Of course, hyung. You’ve never hidden it, or maybe I was just always aware of it. Is that what’s bugging you? You know I’m bi, too. We’ve talked about Jimin’s ass in equal measures with his mate’s before.”

“That’s…no…okay, can you let go of me so we can sit up and talk like normal people because this feels weird and I’m already….”

Jungkook frowned. “Nope. Not letting go.”

Jin groaned. “You never make things easy.”

“But you still love me!” Jungkook sang.

Jin was frozen, looked frozen, and stopped playfully pushing Jungkook away.

“Hyung? What’s wrong?”

You rolled your eyes to the ceiling. You knew Jungkook could be hare-brained but this took the cake.

“Yeah, Jungkook. I do. I do and that’s the problem,” Jin finally said, his voice quiet and troubled.

Jungkook looked even more bewildered. “You loving me is a problem? Why?”

“Because I don’t just love you as family, Kookie.” Jin finally extricated himself and curled up, hugging his knees.

You knew he wanted you there in case Jungkook rejected him or freaked out, but you really felt like you were intruding on something delicate.

“But…you love me? You love me but not as family, but that doesn’t make sense because we are family…how can you love me then?”

Jin looked at him in disbelief, then at you, completely lost.

“Jungkook, how do people normally love each other outside of family or friend capacity?” You asked. Penny in the air?

“Well, in a mating capac…ity…” He trailed off, staring at Jin who was back to hiding his face in his knees.

The penny dropped.

His eyes widened and he swallowed. “Oh.”

Jin was trembling, each breath shaking as he waited for a further reaction.

“OH.” Jungkook was putting everything together now, and he looked…startled? Not a good sign.

You clenched a fist, the silence that stretched after killing you a little.

“You…you’re IN love with me…” Jungkook said after a moment.

God, you could just imagine throttling him for taking so long to react in a way that could give Jin some sort of sign.

“How long?”

Jin just shook his head, too upset to form words.

“A few months,” You answered instead.

Jungkook mouthed the words months a couple dozen times, brow furrowed.

It was really quiet after that.

“Get out,” Jin whispered finally, curling in on himself even more. “Please get out.”

Jungkook snapped back, eyes widening again. “Hyung?”

“I get it, Jungkook. It never crossed your mind, now please get out because it hurts, and I tried to make sure it would never come to this, I tried to push it away but I couldn’t and I did something that really fucking hurt and I can’t stand to sit here in silence knowing that you don’t feel the same so get out!” Jin sobbed. “Please. Please go.”

You winced at how broken he sounded. You shouldn’t have interfered.

Jungkook was still staring at Jin. “But—”

Jin got up and rushed to the bathroom, closing and locking the door.

You closed your eyes as the door slammed, sighing. “You should head back to the main house, Jungkook.”

“What? No!” Jungkook looked between you and the bathroom.

“Jungkook, I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t have gone against his wishes in the first place when I brought you in here, please just go?” You whispered, guilt rushing through you.

Something set in his gaze.

“Hey!” You squawked as he threw you over his shoulder, then out of the room, closing and locking the door.

“Not until I’ve talked with him! Don’t expect us for dinner!” He called through the door.

You stared at it for a while, wondering what to do, but frankly, hadn’t you already interfered enough? Jungkook at least loved Jin as a brother, so he wouldn’t do anything to intentionally hurt Jin. If he did, Jin might go zombie-apocalypse-survivor on his ass and go looking for the real Jungkook.

You left them to it, going to find your mate.

He was laying the last of the babies down in the crib with the other two (a surefire way of getting all three of them to nap soundly for a little longer), but he looked up at you and smiled. “Hey.” Then his nose wrinkled.

You flashed him a smile. “Jin.”

He nodded.

“So…you guys moved the spare cribs out.”

He nodded again, a little more slowly. “I thought it was time. Hobi cried for an hour before he actually helped me take them apart and put them away. But that’s so…him.”

“You’re okay with this?” You asked.

He met your gaze. He looked tired, but his gaze was clear. “Are you not?”

“I’m okay with it. I’m going to be a little sad either way, but at least there’s a little more room this way.” You bent down to scoop Heiran out from under one of the cribs.

She purred, nuzzling up to you before skipping out of the room.

“So, Jin?”

“All I know I can say right now is that he got fired again. I don’t know why yet because he and Jungkook are…talking.”

“About how Jin’s in love with Jungkook?”

“It took a good ten minutes for Jungkook to figure out that’s what was being said, and he was too quiet for another eight minutes. So I imagine he’s now doing a lot of talking while Jin’s still locked away in the bathroom trying to get away from him.”

“Come on, tell me the rest,” He said, closing the nursery door and then guiding you to sit on his lap. “Jin knows you don’t hide anything from me. He’s already told me he’s grateful that even though you do tell me that I don’t mention anything about it.”

You shrugged, resting your head on his shoulder. “He was upset after getting fired, got drunk and slept with someone and it left a really bad taste in his mouth. I think he feels like he betrayed Jungkook even though he and Jungkook aren’t an item, and I think his partner for the act wasn’t a good one. And I’d just gotten back from my appointment so I didn’t think I could help Jin on my own, and so I grabbed Jungkook because he really is the best at helping Jin, but he caught on to the fact that there was something more to everything that he didn’t know and I…I asked Jin to tell him because it’s been months and it’s hurting both of them. Jungkook doesn’t eat when Jin pushes him away, you know. Not even pumpkin and he loves pumpkin. But Jungkook didn’t get it, so Jin’s panicking because if he tries to back out now it might push Jungkook to understand and if he keeps waiting then Jungkook will probably understand and I finally gave Jungkook the final push to understanding but then he just sat there without saying anything and I just…I wanted to throttle him.”

“And you left them alone together?”

“I wasn’t given much of a choice. Jin told Jungkook to get out, and went and hid in the bathroom and I tried to get Jungkook out as well but instead he picked me up and threw me out and locked the door and I just couldn’t bring myself to try and interfere more.” You groaned in frustration, rubbing your face against his neck.

“Y/n,” He whispered softly, and you just sort of melted into his embrace. “It’s okay. It needed to happen. You’re right, they were both being hurt by it. It’ll be okay. Jungkook wouldn’t purposely hurt Jin.”

You nodded. “Are we okay?”

“Of course,” He answered, purring softly. “Did you think we weren’t?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not really sure of much these days.”

He tilted your chin up and kissed you. “I’ll make sure to remind you how much I love you, then. Every day. I’ve just been tired between work and the kids.”

“And the guys fighting.”

“Like I said, between work and the kids.”

You laughed and he grinned at you.

“But Joon and Taehyung-ah made up earlier, so that’ll help.”

“Mom?” Jihun’s voice carried down the hall.

You kissed Yoongi again and stepped out of the nursery. “Yes, Jihun?”

He bounded over with his notebook and showed you a math problem. “Hoseok-hyung is not a good math teacher.”

You laughed softly, and took the notebook, guiding him back to the school room. “I’ll help you.”

Hoseok was frowning at the math textbook, looking lost. “I thought I knew how to do this.”

“Apparently you don’t. It’s okay, I do. Scoot, go find Heiran, she still hasn’t done her history lesson,” You instructed, nudging him out of the chair so you could sit with Jihun.

He nodded and went off, still shaking his head.

You settled into teaching Jihun until he seemed to understand what he was doing, then assigned him some problems to work on. Making sure to help him the first couple times, nudging him in the right direction before purring and kissing the top of his head and leaving him to the rest.

Jin was on the couch with an ice-pack on his eye, wrapped in Taehyung’s embrace as the younger glared at Jungkook, who looked exasperated.

“I told you! It was an accident! We’re not fighting!”

“Then why does Jin reek of distress!”

“Maybe—” You cut in sharply, “—because you two are yelling around him and he’s had a bad day.”

Both of their mouths clicked shut while Jin threw you a grateful look.

Yoongi brought in a glass of water and some pills. “Here, Jin-hyung.”

Jin popped the pills, then took the glass and downed half of it. “Thanks. Get me a crowbar?”

“Hmm, better get the car-jack instead,” Yoongi replied, smirking.

“Excellent idea—”

“Hyungie!” Taehyung protested, clinging more tightly to Jin.

Jowoon came running back inside, followed by Namjoon, clutching a bunch of colorful leaves and running straight up to Jin with a grin that took up his whole face.

“How pretty!” Jin gushed after elbowing Tae in the ribs and freeing himself. “Put them on the table and have Uncle Joonie help you find a big book.”

Jowoon nodded. “Uncle Joonie! We got-sta find big book!” He slapped the leaves on the table and ran toward the stairs.

“Jowoon! Your coat and shoes!” Namjoon protested, throwing Jin a betrayed look as he ran after the boy. Jowoon was the fastest three year old you knew and he’d entered a stage of completely boundless energy, so you doubted that Namjoon had had a moment to rest ever since going outside however long ago that happened.

You sat next to Jungkook. “All good?” You asked under your breath.

He nodded. “Mostly. Still a few things to work out, but those will take time.”

“And the black eye?”

“I tried to catch him when he tripped and misjudged the distance,” He answered sheepishly. “I still can’t believe you figured it out before me.”

“I know everything that goes on in this house, it’s only when I leave it for a while that I miss the newest updates on things.” You looked around. “Misuk?”

“With Heiran and Hobi-hyung. She saw a book and cuddles and mewled until Heiran started fighting Hobi-hyung.”

You smiled fondly, but it faded to dread when all of you heard noises coming through the baby monitor.

Taehyung got closer to it, listening carefully. “Not crying.”

Yoongi quickly pulled up the camera monitor. “They’re all still asleep.”

“Thank God,” You breathed, slumping back. You found yourself staring at the leaves. “It’s already fall. How is it already fall?”

“Well, you were pregnant for forever,” Taehyung provided helpfully.

You stuck your tongue out at him. “I had them early, thank you very much!”

He just laughed.

Namjoon came back with a big book, following Jowoon who was hopping to move instead of walking. “This kid.”

“Hey, what’s the plan for Thanksgiving?” Jungkook asked perking up.

“Well, I’m assuming you want pumpkin pie.”

He nodded emphatically.

“And obviously we’ll have a turkey, but we’re not having four different types of meat this year. That was way too chaotic. Turkey and ham, any complainers can find food elsewhere. I thought we might want to have soup this year instead. I could do squash soup, or potato soup, but I figure it should be a vegetarian option for you buns, and Hoseok.”

“Oh! Can we have mushroom soup?” Hoseok asked, carrying a sleepy looking Misuk.

Heiran leaped onto the couch and into Jin’s lap, snuggling up to him.

You nodded. “Sure.”

Yoongi pulled you back to your feet and sat down where you had been before pulling you to sit on his lap. “You know what I’m thankful for, right?”

You hummed. “I have a few guesses.”

He grinned and kissed you.

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