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goddessjynx · 3 years ago

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Any parent please answer?

Idk if anyone will see this, but right now I need just anyone to tell me I'm not crazy.

Am I a bad friend for wanting to hang out with my ex-bestie (eb for short) while she has her kids or she's busy and can't hang, so I offer to come over, to help watch, to help clean? Anything just to be there for her, why? Oh because she was on her third child, at this time I literally went over to her house to play dnd with her husband and brother and her sometimes. So I would try and say "hi" or talk, but instead we stayed doing something else or barely said hi. Ok, fine, hormones, got it. It got to the point of she wouldn't want to hang out with me for reasons she stopped telling me decent sounding excuses. Fine, That's fine, I have other friends who I can hang with or find other things to stay inside and not get out of the house to do. I don't need to leave the house, to get away from the suffocating inside the house with a mentally and verbally abusive, controlling husband. That's. Just. Fine.

So you know, time goes on. we find out that the reason she won't hang out with me, but will hang out with the other girl who she hates (Mind you the other chick literally broke into their house, tried to start drama all the time, and be hazardous to her already two children But who am I to judge about the person you rant to me about how you hate them so much?) But the other chick was also pregnant after divorcing her wife. It's honestly such a mess. So "anyways, I get excluded now because I "Don't understand what she's going through" or "I won't have the same experience" or I'm "not a good source of help" Lol, Okay? I still can't help? Be happy for you? Cool. So things go on, and just things have gotten worse on my end. I'm over here with such a mind debilitating baby fever, that I'm having to pull my car over watching children get off the school bus because I'm in such a crying fit that I can't breathe or see straight. So who the hell would I go to about what do I do? My Bestie right? (There's a reason we are eb rn) I tell her, well try, Idk how much she actually listened. But I tell her how I just can't think about anything else right now. I did everything right, and the world keeps slapping me back.

I own a 4 bedroom house. we have two cars, we even have decently everything working out in our favor, But all of a sudden, I'm not good enough for anyone. My own husband two months after getting married said he hasn't found me attractive for the last two years. THAnks. That's a real boost. This didn't start the fights, but that's a whole other set of rants. about a year before my eb got pregnant, around or right before July 4th, I strictly remember, I was in the walmart fucking bathroom. I had felt so sick the weeks beforehand. Like, My menstrual cycle hates me. She's savage af. Not to mention she likes to disappear randomly and appear with just cramps or a whole flood. I never know. But I remember calling my husband in a panic because I don't know what to do while I had to go to the bathroom so bad it hurt, and all I have is half dollar sized clots. Just something my medical brain, and senior year of AP biology says, "Fuck!" I have him figure something out because I'm really needing someone to just hold me in the bathroom I feel so sick to my stomach. I'm dizzy and all these symptoms I tell him to tell the doctor or whoever he calls.. So he calls, they say whatever to him. I don't either remember or he never told me what they said, (this is a normal of hiding information from me, A LOT) They said (What he told me) to just wipe things up and clean up then if it persists in the next 24 hours to go into the hospital. But I will have to see an ob-gyn.

So, Okay. Nothing bad. but they are in charge of everything along those lines. But those were including two words, that I now know were the two words this man didn't want to hear despite, DESPITE all the teasing and jokes about having kids with me when I was younger with him and literally just dating. That was because I had to see a family planning doctor. I was told by HIM that it was nothing, and we will be fine. I just blamed it on my cramps that are horrible and never put thought to it because I had believed that's what he was told. So that's a trauma my brain locked away until recently as I'm going through my divorce right now. But, I was thinking about how shortly after that, I got a call from my eb about how they were all waiting on me because I'm making us late for bringing stuff to the grill out and bonfire later. Fine, mask all the pain and keep fucking going. right?

She seemed genuinely not worried, saying it was probably just a bad cycle. She gets them all the time too. Its whatever. My now bestie's sister has gone through the same thing I described multiple times, enough that she looked at me and was like, "No, You possibly miscarried." even her mom went on about, "they should've never NEVER brushed that off like they did. If they cared then they would've made sure you were ok. My husband denied me from going to the doctor to see anything about it. Even after when I knew my hormones and emotions were just soooo off. But that's in my mind now, when before maybe around the same time my eb came out saying to all of us even her own husband one time saying she's been feeling crummy because she went in and she found out she had miscarried. It was so short after my stuff that she disregarded then took and made attention for herself that upset her own husband because she never told him until she told a bunch of us at a bar. I mean I felt bad for her, but Now thinking back, my gut says it was a ploy to make her husband to feel bad for her and to try for another one. Where as I'm over here waiting patiently because I jumped through Hoops to get where I'm at now.

My husband promised me children. Lots, its a fucking dream to be a mum. I care for everyone else, and their kids, why not have some kind of mini me to show of what I did. That I did good. That I can be useful to this world too. That I'm not just a lump of no good nothing to this world. But first, he needed a better paying job than a gas station.

Did that, he worked at a metal parts production place. But we then gave the fact that we still live in the apartment I got after moving out from high school. We rented a house. It worked, and it was nice. But now he needs a car, but he cant do that until he learns how to drive. 3 years older than me and I taught him how to drive. AND I helped him buy his first car, a truck. Oh but now, we still can't start a family. We are only renting. I have enough good credit that I could get a house alone, but I needed a higher pay. Bam with his income together we got a house.

Bam, I'm hit with baby fever and what not. NOW I get told, we aren't ready for anything like that yet, so wait two years. Alright, I'll wait. I can do that. We were going to go on trips together and do many things together and all of a sudden, the walmart thing happened, and it just got worse from there. It got to a point I got a job paying BETTER than him and I was the laughing stock to him and his buddies. THANKS. But I'm fine, everything is fine. The walmart thing was about two years after, so I mean, it was actually in the time frame and whatnot. Things just kept going on getting worse at home, I just kept listening. For reasons, I had to quit my high paying job, and then everything got absolutely horrible at home. Had to put everything I had control over money wise into his account for he worried it would take too long to find an new job and make money to suffice for bills. It was argument after argument, but I went to my eb explaining things, asking what the hell do I do? Her advice? To just do what he wants. The thing I had to quit about? She basically never cared about it. Everything just went on being a mess. I went on just letting people walk over me because that was the advice I was given.

I voiced my feelings that I have been following lies and how I feel hurt that I'm told dreams and having them be taken away. We never went on trips much. Instead we would buy a crap ton of ammo or new guns that I'm not allowed to use, yet I'm helping fund so you can get them, but when it was my own that I BOUGHT, all of a sudden, my things went missing and he would be out using and letting his buddies use my new guns and using up the ammo I had purchased on my own. I mean, fine, but let me at LEAST take yours out if you're going to use mine without asking. It got to be so annoying that we would be asked when we would get married or when we would have kids. He would be hugging me and smiling all cocky saying "Oh well we haven't stopped trying." every time. He would start that tell people this and I finally had enough. I stopped him and told him to put his money where his mouth was. He always said shit but never actually did it or acted on what he said. He would just lie to everyone. Tell people lies because it sounded nice. Best part? I had bought a ring for him. I proposed to him because he would joke about things like that. So I basically said, "bet" and did it. I have never received a damn ring! He wouldn't even want to look at them with me. Because they were expensive. Not all of them are. I don't care what price it is, but something to say, "Hey, I love you and Don't want the odd peeps at the bar to keep hitting on you so take this with you, its dangerous out there." (Shut up. I'm a nerd) But like.... I just would make notions about, I wanted a ring. He would beg me to pool together money and buy new guns, I mean I"m not against, but I would bring up that I will want a ring. Or even something else would be you know, amazing right now because I'm in a lost place wanting kids still and my eb just announced they were having their third. (which her own family was so upset about it that they ranted to me and my mom, her own brother said that its just another kid that they will end up taking care of instead of her so she can go to the bars again. Yep) So next we talked about getting a gun safe because, before we can have kids, we need to be SAFE. Ight, we bought it. Nice matte black 33 capacity, fire and water proof, best part the front had a reallly pretty engraved waving American flag imprinted on it. It was just so smooth. (Guess who has that right now btw) So oddly enough in the middle of me not being enough for my eb, My cycle kind of returned to being semi regular, and all of a sudden disappeared. Well that whole month beforehand we went from never wanting to touch me unless it was my birthday to every night he was angry after work and took it out on me instead. I mean, whatever. But when it came to me not feeling well, I told him.

Instantly it wasn't mine. I was fooling with other guys. Like instant psycho. His childhood friend came and moved up with us, she saw this for a good few months and had to move out because he was trying to control her as if she were a child. She told me that it was not right for him to be that way and that she will never talk to him for how he treated her. (which was exactly how he was always with me too) I'm not sure if he was trying to get my jealous because his bff was a girl? Idk we worked out like literally sisters. Sooo much in common and she told me, She believes he's never wanted kids. And she watched how I broke down after he told me he wanted nothing to do with me until I took a test. He DEMANDED that I took a test right away. If it was positive, it wasn't his until proven so. And if it was negative he would be fine. this was ridiculous. He wasn't at all happy or excited. Purely upset. I felt so shitty that after the test was negative I told him and he threatened about it happening again he was leaving back to Kansas. He threatened this every damn fight, it got to the point that I gave up, I said leave then. And instantly he shut up. I got him out of gangs, crime, jail, living on the street or with his mum, and being a maaajor drug addict. Yet I'M THE BAD PERSON.

Back to recently when my eb is getting closer to having her kid, I just go through finding out I'm not and my husband is freaking out at me, nonstop yelling at me that I'm not good enough and all this shit. Yes, lil ol me trying to keep the peace in the house is a cunt and a whore. Wow. Name calling, but hitting where it hurts? I told him before, how my mother in an argument said I would be a horrible mother. And that shit sticks. IT STICKS. So what does the smart ass pull out? He repeats it. He says he's glad I'm not pregnant because I'd be a horrible mother in the end.

That. That just kills a person. That kills dreams and the feeling of wanting to keep living. Who the FUCK says that to their partner? Am I wrong for thinking that's not right? Well my eb thought I was. I told her my feelings. How I don't want to be jealous of her, but I am. That she's more beautiful, she's always had guys hitting on her in school inviting her to do things and hang out, I was the nerd in whatever class that got invited only if it was mandatory. She will be having three kids and a loving husband that can never take his hands or eyes from her, where as I have to act like a clown to get my husband to look up from his damn phone. To say something nice. To

be acknowledged while in the house. I've left and came back the next morning because I hung out at my now besties house. He didn't say a word until I came home the next morning and he looked at me like "when the fuck did you leave" No care, no love. I was stuck being a burden. Anything I ever did around the house was in vain. Everything I helped with I got shoved away because I didn't do it right. EVERYTHING I did was not good enough. I would tell him this that is how I felt and he would deny it. One day, I caught him yelling at me saying that what I did wasn't ever good enough. Calle him out right away. Bitch... He tried to change the wording to go around what he said. I HEARD IT. it was so bad I had to have my bestie on the phone to listen to how he talked to me behind closed doors. Away from public view. HER MOM HEARD IT. Thought she was watching some kind of dramatic show, until she realized it was me on the phone. She's listened to so many calls its unheard of. There was a day, I had enough of it. (Ok A lot actually) but I grabbed my laptop and my charger and left the house. I sat in the park drawing on my laptop. Texted every person I could think of that I cared so deeply for that they would care for me back. I was in a dark ass place asking for Advice. My eb shrugged off what my husband was doing and scolded me for leaving. For sitting in a park drawing out my feelings instead of being with him because he's being dramatic to her husband upset that I started an argument. I didn't understand what I started when it was over me telling him not to throw the controller when he loses a COD game because that's how it breaks. Why he threw it? Because I distracted him by playing with my cat while he was playing the damn game and made him lose! yep. Exactly that. So I was yelled at to quit. So I did. I went back to my drawing and then with my headphones on I was humming to my music. It distracted him and he lost. So I flipped out because I can't do anything in my own house without being scolded for it. So I stormed off to the bedroom to draw some more. I'm upstairs and away from him. Didn't want to eat now I'm stressed and upset. So I didn't cook anything and now he's hungry and upset at me for not making food yet. YES. That's how it started and I again was the bad person in the story for safely removing myself from an environment where all my mind was telling me to do was dark things that hurt to say. To give up on everything I have worked for and all my dreams.

That was the last time I spoke to her for a while because everything started to be only about baby and about doing this for baby. Doing that for baby. But then she would never answer me back. I was done trying to fit time to hang out. To do something, I made new friends who didn't have kids and hung out more with them. It got horrible. the sound of a child crying made my stomach hurt. I had non stop dreams of the same thing happening. It was just awful. I looked it up and it was just meaning I had something and lost it. Whatever is missing in the dream what what I had lost.

In this dream I was dressed in all black, lace and long dress covering every inch of skin on my body. I had a hat with a veil and I was rocking a bundle in my arms in an old decrepit room with peeling paint and broken toys. It was a nursery. An old ruined nursery. I was rocking just a black blanket swaddled with a hole that emptied to the void. It gives me chills, I get this dream so much that me explaining just makes my skin crawl and my body ache. It hurts to think of but I just cannot understand it. Makes sense now that I looked into it.

But me going through all of this, I can't talk to my husband about my feelings because I'm too needy and being selfish for not taking his feelings into an account. That he's not ready that we are not ready and that I'm not ready because I'm going to be a horrible mom. Cool.

I have tried so much. I couldn't be around kids. It made me so sick and I jus would have to find somewhere to hide and cry for hours. I would cry myself to sleep. Never getting comfort by him because I'm throwing a pity party. I was so hurt. Still am. I'm broken hearted. Thinking that if I had a kid, at least I would have something that needed me and would love the care I gave and would love me back. I wanted to feel loved for how much I put out in the world. I wanted to have something to ground me to this world before I did something stupid. I was in such a dark place that I drove an hour to go see my bestie because I was scared that I was going to do it. That I was going to be the big disappointment he told me I would always be. Three months later, baby is here and I go back to playing dnd with my friends and its at their house. My husband is rubbing it in my face. He's holding baby and talking to baby and doing all these things making my mind break. He asks if I want to hold her. If i if iififififi NO.

I can't I cannot. I'm trying to be respectful. I missed out on other games because I had to hype myself up. I procrastinated because I didn't know how I would be or if I could handle it. I got to the point that my eb's husband told me that he doesn't want me playing anymore because I sent a text trying to apologize to my now eb that I feel so bad but I can't see her right now since seeing her kids just sends me into a panic attack and I can't stop thinking horrible things. So she takes that as I have a problem with HER kids and not just the KIDS situation. Doesn't hear me out. blames me for everything and has me banned from coming over. in which her husband says he doesn't want me over anymore. Which my rebuttal is because she's telling him only. But he said it was his choice. I don't know don't care. It just hurt that THATS the reason I got kicked out. Not because I was good, but that I couldn't handle their kids. And I would not pay attention by drawing the whole time. I was distracting myself because I'm trying to drown out the noises of cooing making my gut rot and my mouth dry. So by all means I'm selfish for wanting a dream that I was being promised for the last 6 years of physically being with my soon to be ex. I've know for actually 12 years. And that I drove 15 hours to bring you to me since you couldn't drive.

So I need to know from real parents, was I out of line for telling my eb that I had feelings and that them not being heard or just cast to the side hurt? Am I crazy for feeling that I've been robbed? For being upset when my husband comes home drunk and abuses me? For being hurt when I'm called all sorts of names and told I'm worthless by the man I should trust the most? Please. I need to know.

I know I'm ranting, but I need to get it out. I need to find some sort of something to figure out why I'm feeling this way, or why I don't know what to do with myself anymore. I'm fighting for the divorce since i haven't been to my owned house in the last 5 months since he changed the locks on me. I moved an hour away from my home and my family and still to this day, I hurt to hear or watch children around me. I'm happy, but inside something aches and just feels empty. Not to mention that I got told by people that know me that he's been caught buying condoms. We are still technically married, and he can't be doing those things right now. Am I jealous? Upset? Hurt? All of the above? It just sucks and I'm drowning in debt a bit trying to work my ass off to get where I want in life again since all of everything has been ripped from me. I'm trying. Please let me know if I'm crazy or out of line? I want to be heard. I'm going to start to save up. I have a plan for my 27th birthday. If it doesn't work in time for my 28th birthday, I'm not sure what else I can do but join the 27 club.

#send help #please reblog #mental health #parents #mother #father #moms #family #reblog #important #self care #self love #self help #self esteem #self healing #my story

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captainsimagines · 4 years ago

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To Topple A Giant || Chapter Five

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 5 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: mentions of male masturbation and boners (lol); strong language; references to suicide, murder, and drug smuggling; abusive parental relationship; mentions of child death in a second flashback; dry humping (smut); 18+ only please!

Word Count: 16,500+

A/N: damn that chapter warning list was a trip to write down lmao

Westview, 2023, 1:32 pm

An uncomfortable silence spread throughout the parked vehicle, daring either of you to take the first step. No one commented on the glares boring into your soul as you drove through the town or how heavily the three of you got patted down by the authorities right outside the state line. You figured it was completely justified - still a little insulting to a bunch of Avengers who literally saved the world three weeks ago.

With a loud gulp, Bucky was the first to kick open his door and get out of the car. You glanced at Steve from the driver’s seat, biting your lip with a slight quiver as you went over the speech you practiced earlier today. Simple enough, and not too damning.

Steve’s leg bounced rapidly a few more times before he too kicked open his door, leaving you in silence. You pulled the car keys from the ignition and took in a deep breath. Your legs were numb, the anxiety washing over you in uneven cycles. It was now or never.

“Wanda, it’s us…”

Her grief seemed to emit from every crack in the sidewalk, every weak beg escaping the townspeople’s throats, every sound from the inanimate objects her powers had continued to turn from gray to red… to green… back to gray. She was crouched on the property, weeds brushing against her black pants and leaving their mark, mascara smudged with each new wet streak.

Bucky unzipped his jacket, eyes wandering over the deserted plot of land as Wanda tried to control her sobs. She had already caused enough damage, both physical and psychological, the possibility of more government involvement looming over your heads. He carefully walked toward her and wrapped his jacket over her shoulders, all be damned as he held her and began to tear up himself.

“Wanda, you’re okay. You’re safe. We’ll get through this,” Steve sighed, still keeping a respectable distance from her in case she were to run. But you knew her better - she was all out of fight. One fight after another and yet she still lost her love.

“I did something really bad,” she sobbed, eyes locked on the spot where Vision had just disappeared. Again.

“No, you didn’t know what you were doing,” Steve declared, shocked by the unexpected scoff from Bucky.

“Save it, Steve. She may not have known in the beginning but she does now. She still did it.”

No one dared correct Bucky or argue with that logic because if anyone knew about causing harm with absolutely no intention, it was obviously him. Taking responsibility - that was the best course of action.

Once you heard of a radioactive disturbance in a small town just outside the state, the team almost retired completely. So soon after defeating Thanos, so soon after Tony’s death, so soon after Natasha’s death - the team left it up to the proper authorities this time around.

But the second you watched the broadcast of Wanda’s fantasies, the sitcom her powers were conjuring, her giving birth to her children… all you could do was wait until she opened the barrier.

“I still did it,” Wanda said, her upper body beginning to rock back and forth as her fingertips brightened with red tendrils of magical grief.

You shut your eyes and willed yourself not to cry. You had done so much crying these past few years and you were oh, so tired. You couldn’t possibly take another beating.

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” Bucky spoke, gently turning Wanda’s face and placing both his hands on her cheeks, mindful of the metal appendage he had forgotten to cover with his glove. “You already did it. It can’t be undone. But you can come with us and grieve properly.”

Wanda reached up and placed her hands over his, tears spilling from her eyes faster now.

“Let us help you grieve.”

This wasn’t an unexpected goodbye. Wanda knew that. She had just voluntarily given up her husband and children - anyone would crumble from that sort of devastation. But now she had been given a proper goodbye, a somewhat proper closure, and the chance to accept it. “Okay.”

You and Steve remained frozen in place even after Bucky helped Wanda stand. Almost as quickly as you thought it, your feet had a mind of their own. You stood next to Steve, taking in the weed infested, rectangular plot of land - the remnants of Wanda’s fantasy still fresh and creating a tiny, refreshing tingle in the middle of your chest. You looked over at Steve and smiled sadly when you saw him inspecting the area as well.

“They would have had a beautiful life together.”

Steve’s breath hitched as you finished your declaration, looking over at you and nodding slightly.

“If I had the chance, I would have wanted a nice house with some decent air conditioning. Some weird, front yard garden where I could plant random flowers. A dog that dug them up and acted like it didn’t do it.”

You giggled, thumbnail between your incisors to try and disguise the wider grin forming. Steve kept speaking.

“Maybe a kid or two. Never actually checked if I could even have kids after the serum.”

You dropped your hand from your face, your attention completely on him now.

Steve sighed and kicked a rock over to the other side of the property. “I would have wanted a giant, king-sized bed. With ‘his’ and ‘hers’ towels. And every once in a while we would accidentally use the other one’s toothbrush, a secret we would take to the grave.”

Steve wasn’t even looking over at you as he said this. It was like a one-sided confession, rhetorical, not needing an immediate response or expression in return. And you couldn’t believe he was just saying this in front of you - you of all people - the same person who rolled their eyes whenever Steve struggled to comprehend a modern topic or argued with him when he was in one of his moods. He had been distant the last few weeks after returning the stones, only ever noticing you when other people were around to carry a conversation.

The tingles in your chest were starting to disappear as the plot of land gave its last few magical rumbles.

“Steve?”

Steve bowed his head, hands in his pockets and breath steady. “Yes, they would have been very happy together.”

You stared at the back of his head as he slowly walked back to the car.

Present Day, 2025, 8:10 am

The amount of times you reminded yourself to wake up early as you were drifting off to sleep last night was perhaps more than the number of sheep you had ever counted in your life. A quick reminder here and there as your mind got clogged with pointless information, the number eight behind your eyelids all throughout the night.

And you did it. In the early hours of the morning, knowing Steve would wake naturally in about twenty minutes, you tip-toed out of bed to use the bathroom. Acting completely normal in case he did in fact hear you before your grand plan - an easy escape route if he decided to repeat his horrible morning ritual on you. But he was such an old man, getting older, losing that serum’s boost. This Steve, Steve who refused to call any movie made after 1945 ‘old’ because he literally didn’t get the chance to see them premiere - yeah, this Steve, was passed out like he had been hit by a truck.

Bladder empty and teeth brushed, you quietly opened the bathroom door and peeked through. He still lay there on his back, wrapped tightly in his blanket, breathing steadily, and face completely unprotected.

Could you die? Probably. Would this payback be absolutely satisfying? Hell yeah.

You grabbed the biggest of your pillows and fisted the corner tightly, twisting it a couple times for a better grip. You signed the cross quickly before lifting the pillow above your head and bringing it down to Steve’s face.

Steve’s eyes snapped open and he immediately sat up, “WHAT?”

His eyes flew around the room rapidly until they landed on you, angry and challenging.

“Payback!” you yelled, lifting the pillow high again for a second hit. But he reacted quicker, grabbing a pillow himself and swinging it toward you. It slammed you in the torso and practically sent you flying. You landed at the edge of your bed, mouth open in shock and racks of laughter bubbling deep within your chest. You stood quickly and hit him repeatedly, trying your best to also block his counterattack.

He reached for your hip and pulled you in his bed, rolling the two of you over so he was straddling your hips. He brought the pillow down several more times before accepting your plea of surrender.

You threw the pillow back to your bed and pouted, “Not a fair fight!”

Steve scoffed, “You caught me off guard! You had all the advantages!”

You shuffled beneath him and froze, hips stuck in a lifted position as you were too embarrassed to move them back down. “Jesus, Steve! How do you even sleep on your stomach with that thing?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows as he inspected your face and body, looking down at the two of you before he noticed the way he was pressing into your inner thigh. He scrambled off you, a blush spreading from his cheeks and all the way down his chest. He cupped himself and turned away, quickly shuffling for his suitcase and pulling whatever clothes his flustered hands grabbed. He was also repeatedly apologizing.

“Steve, it’s okay. It just… startled me, is all.”

Steve cleared his throat a couple times before pacing around the room in search of his toiletries.

You just sat back on your elbows, watching him scurry like a chicken with its head cut off. It was rather amusing.

“I’m gonna - gonna, take a shower. Uh, I’m sorry again.”

You smirked at the super soldier, “Steve, I’m not mad. It isn’t like I’m new to that kind of thing.”

Steve blushed harder, “But I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

You shrugged your shoulders and dipped lower into his sheets, grabbing and lifting them higher. You snuggled deeper, “Still.”

Steve could feel the speed at which the world rotated and he shut the bathroom door behind him. He leaned against it, breathing deeply until he had all his inhibitions back.

He didn’t know what was more embarrassing - reacting the way he did or you seeing him react the way he did. It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t seen each other in awkward situations, some borderline lewd. There were plenty of missions that involved heavy flirting with the targets, undercover work in depraved settings, missions where nasty magic was involved and concocted a multitude of inappropriate visions. Hell, everyone had already seen each other naked. It was completely normal, a trustworthy environment, and sometimes necessary.

As much as he wanted to give into the feeling and award himself some proper alone time, he refused to act upon it. He would regret it later once the stress pushed down harder than usual, but it just wasn’t appropriate in his right mind to masturbate with you in the other room.

Why did he have to be such a good and honorable man?

He busied himself with washing his hair and scrubbing away any evidence of sleep from his face. Steve liked sleeping on his stomach, face smooshed in the pillows and arms extended to his sides. It allowed for more comfortable movement, more ways to stretch his hips, just overall comfort for his massive shoulders. Less pressure on the lungs, too. And unlike the enthusiastic yet almost mean accusation that he couldn’t possibly enjoy that position because of his… well, his dick, Steve would choose that position over sleeping on his back any day. But that morning, his body had decided to betray him in more ways than one. One, he was open to attack because he was on his back. And two, whatever dream he was having caused his morning wood to seem larger this morning.

He had washed up quickly, more time spent out of the shower where he fixed his hair and combed his beard. He thought about shaving it for the rehearsal dinner or wedding, but it gave him a more rugged look - like he was all tough and no funny business. As ridiculous as it sounded, the beard allowed him to lean into the criminal act easier, build a fake personality that already had your father eating out of his hand.

Opening the bathroom door and having to face the music, Steve was almost certain you would continue to tease him. But you were already munching on the breakfast you had ordered, shoveling hash browns in your mouth as you swiped the mouse through pages and pages of intel. You didn’t even look up as he crossed the room to grab a pair of pants he had forgotten to pick up during his quick escape. That settled his nerves almost instantly and he was dressed and settled next to you soon after.

You worked in silent cooperation for a long while, handing each other files and passing phone calls like you had during every other mission before. Except now it was more comfortable, pleasant, and kind - the soft sounds from the television in the corner, the humming of the desktop, the soft hums of recognition whenever you two showed each other something. You didn’t even bother with what happened in the morning, if it really was anything at all, because you honestly found it normal. You were more focused on the conversation you had last night.

Steve had offered to kill your father if you seriously couldn’t. Just thinking about his offer caused your stomach to turn. Because yes, you wanted him dead. You wanted to snap his neck in ten different places and feed him to scavengers. You wanted to steal his business from under him and tear it apart, bit by bit, and keep him alive long enough to see you do it. You wanted to see the look in his eyes when you revealed that you double-crossed him. And as the day inched closer, the overwhelming feeling of shame pushed down on your shoulders and swallowed your mind. Once your father was dead, you and Steve would never find true peace. His men would always follow you, probably take you down at the local coffee shop you and Peter frequented.

The thought of dying in front of Peter caused a lump to form in your throat. No, you wouldn’t do that to your friends. You couldn’t do this to Steve.

But you had to. Because even though your life will never be yours after this mission, you had to save the countless others your father was sure to touch and ruin.

But was your life ever truly yours?

Steve’s voice pulled you from your clouded mind.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you wanted the last piece of fruit.”

You looked at Steve then at the small piece of watermelon in the bowl, then back at Steve. He had a pen in between his teeth, one eyebrow cocked, and slightly puffy eyes due to the beer heavy sleep he had last night. You looked away as quickly as you could and stared back at the fruit, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

Ridiculous, you thought. Just looking at Steve had flustered you, squeezing your stomach in pleasurable pulses you hadn’t felt since high school. “No, no. You can have it,” you said, hoping your voice wouldn’t crack.

Ridiculous.

Steve watched you with a funny smile but he took your word and scooped up the last piece for himself.

No, you thought again, this man will not give me freaking butterflies.

It wasn’t like it was odd. Steve had you flustered countless times before, but it was never quite as tingly as it was now. You suddenly wanted to facetime Wanda and rant about these weird feelings; you wanted to curl in on yourself and squeal; you wanted to -

“He’s what?”

You sat on your knees and leaned over the back of the couch, chin resting on your folded arms as you watched Steve pace around the common room. He was tugging at his dress shirt repeatedly, desperately trying to attach cufflinks without additional help. Sam sat right beside you, in the same position, snickering each time Steve cursed under his breath.

“He’s nervous,” Bucky smirked, arm holding out Steve’s tie for the past five minutes. Steve had paced beside him various times already, completely oblivious.

Steve groaned and readjusted his collar, snapping his head toward the three of you. “I’m not nervous.”

“You’re sweating buckets, man,” Sam pointed out, one of his hands discreetly opening up his camera and switching to video.

“What if she doesn’t like me?”

Bucky threw his head back and cackled, choosing to grab Steve and steady him to finally put that damn tie around his neck. “Same old, Steve. Can’t accept that a dame would ever possibly like you back.”

“Hey, Steve don’t worry about it,” you started, shooting Steve a sympathetic look. Steve glanced back at you, expression swiftly changing due to your kind tone. “... when I was in high school,-”

Steve released a loud grunt, rolling his eyes and stepping away from Bucky’s hands.

Sam rolled over and clutched his stomach as he laughed, pulling you into him. The two of you shook from your laughs together.

“Guys,” Bucky warned, reaching for Steve in a ‘grabby’ motion. “Give him a break.”

Steve reluctantly stood beside Bucky again, head tilted upward as he tried wrapping the tie back around his neck.

None of you heard the entrance of Thor and his brother, too busy with bullying, laughter, or moderating.

“Did we miss all the fun?”

You shot up from the ground, kicking Sam away as you rushed across the floor and stumbled over the rug. “Thor!”

You rushed into his arms and he gripped you tightly, swinging you around and loud laughter matching yours.

“Now, why wasn’t I greeted in a similar manner?” Loki questioned, crossing his arms over his chest.

You pulled your face from Thor’s shoulder, “Oh, you want this too?”

You jumped back onto the floor and were about to jump into Loki’s arms, but he held his own out, stopping you. “It’s too late. It’s not the same.”

“Piss baby,” you quipped, rushing behind Thor for protection when Loki’s mouth dropped in surprise.

“Can everyone stop what they’re doing real quick and tell Steve his date is going to go well tonight?”

You rolled your eyes at Bucky’s favor, but he just raised his eyebrows, challenging you to disobey the order.

“The Captain has a date? Are they okay?”

Loki and you shared a comical gasp.

Steve gaped, “Now, what in the world does that mean, Thor?”

Thor raised his hands in defense, “I’m just asking if she truly knows what she’s getting herself into! Don’t try and tell me she has no idea who you are.”

Steve was back to groaning nonstop. Bucky threw his hands up in the air, “I ask one thing of you guys. One thing.”

You stomped over to Steve and ripped the half-tied tie from his neck and smoothed down his collar. You patted down his shoulders and the front of his shirt, and gripped his shoulders to straighten his back.

“Now,” you smiled up at him. The breath caught in your throat for a second, the blue of his eyes shining under the ceiling lights and the pink of his cheeks spreading slowly. You let out a tiny sigh, heart fluttering faintly from the small grin he was giving you. He looked so innocent, a renaissance subject created from light oils, signs of true aging showing in his forehead. “Whatever date you got planned, she’s gonna love it.”

Steve relished in the feeling of your palms pressed against his chest for a few moments before he nodded at your declaration. He stepped back and smoothed down his shirt. “Wish me luck?”

A chorus of ‘good luck’s sounded as Steve found his keys and shared a goodnight hug with Sam and Bucky. They both jokingly reminded him to use protection.

You watched Steve leave, a newfound bounce in his step as he walked away. Your words had been so simple, so cliche, and yet he had dropped any visible nerves as he walked out the door. You weren’t the best motivational speaker, that was for sure, but the proof of at least an ounce of motivation was there. Maybe your words held a hidden meaning. Maybe.

You thought about him picking up this random woman, wine and dining her, kissing her cheek as he said his goodbyes at the end of the night. It was somewhat adorable to think about, but also weird.

Before you could dive more into the strange feeling, Thor’s voice sounded.

“Should we order pizza or chinese?”

It’s like that snapped you from your trance, because next thing you knew you were back to your playful self, sprinting across the room and into Loki’s arms.

You cherished the slight, pleasant churn of your stomach as you watched him happily munch on the fruit.

Okay, it was normal to have a tiny crush on your mission partner. God knows how many times you wanted to jump Thor’s bones whenever you were undercover together. A crush was normal, completely natural and expected.

Except you had never gotten so much sane joy from a simple question of whether you wanted the last piece of fruit.

You blinked a few times and shook off any trace of overthinking devils, grabbing at random files to occupy your mind for a while. After about fifteen more minutes of comfortable silence, you spoke.

“So, we think Ramirez is gonna get straight up murdered?”

Steve snorted, filing through a pile of papers Torres had delivered this morning. “I wouldn’t put it like that, but sure.”

“But it’s just a theory at this point. We can’t just go in guns blazing without enough proof.”

“And if there is proof? Do we protect him? The original mission was to arrest all four men.”

You groaned, “I don’t know. He’s never done me wrong.”

“Personal feelings aside, Y/N.”

“Ugh, fine. But I’m not gonna be happy about it.”

Steve squinted at you with a playful smile. “You’d rather just arrest the bad ones, huh?”

“Obviously what Ramirez is doing is illegal and it’s horrific to think of what might be happening behind the scenes on his side, but either he’s serious or he’s been putting on this good guy act for his whole life.”

“Leaning towards the first option?”

Shrugging, you leaned toward your computer screen and scrolled through the massive list of emails. “It’s what my gut tells me, but ehh.”

There was one random email from Maribel, but random only meant coded. Reading it over a couple times, humming to yourself in concentration, you finally cracked the code she was trying to send.

“Maribel says Ramirez acquired some land in Mexico… lots of it.”

Steve looked up from the files, “Any significance?”

“It’s probably for growing the products.”

Steve quickly typed key words that would alert him of any new transactions in the past few months. “Who’s on the title?”

“Just him. And his oldest daughter. My father must know, right?”

Steve leaned back in his chair, releasing a heavy sigh as he thought about what this could mean. “Ramirez acquiring more land means more of Ramirez’s product. A three-way partnership would be split unevenly if he utilizes the land.”

“Make sure Bucky alerts us of any business my father might have with realtors authorized to work in that area.”

It functioned like this for another hour, the two of you sharing bits of information every ten minutes or so.

“Torres sent us an update on White.”

You rubbed at your strained eyes, “What does he say?”

Steve’s eyebrows raised, “That he’s been in the country for much longer than his passport says.”

You stood from your seat and rushed to look at the same screen Steve was reading from. “He traveling under a fake name?”

“Customs says he returned to Germany,” Steve stated, highlighting a paragraph on the screen for you to easily read. “Four weeks ago.”

It was your turn to snort out a laugh, “Oh, he’s so setting up an alibi.”

Steve nodded in agreement, “Looks like it.”

You slapped his shoulder lightly, voice raising an octave. “Look at us! Piecing together the puzzle!”

“We still got a few more pieces to attach before you go getting all cocky.”

You chuckled and decided to take a break. You speed walked over to your bed and plopped down, the mountain of pillows already relieving your tense muscles. “Hey, has my sister’s plane landed yet?”

Steve glanced at you quickly before pulling up Bucky’s morning emails. “Uh, landed about an hour ago.”

“She at the estate?”

He shrugged, “Torres hasn’t sent an update. Just her profile, hold up.”

You waved him off, a nonverbal way of telling him you seriously couldn’t care less. “I haven’t spoken to her since I joined you guys. You don’t gotta give me her origin story.”

“That long?” Steve questioned.

You placed a pillow beneath your head, body horizontal and facing Steve. “We were never that close. I’ve got tons of half-siblings. Most of them were adults when I was born, anyway.”

With just a few words exchanged, Steve realized he had just stepped through your metaphorical door of reminiscing. So he stood to lay in his own bed, the simple action of giving you attention enough to keep you talking, he hoped. “Were you alone a lot? Growing up, I mean.”

You watched as Steve also placed a pillow beneath his head, “There were always kids around. Kids of the maids, cousins, neighbors.”

“A full house, sounds like.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, a small smile forming as you thought about old friends. “I remember this one time, we all ran into Ramirez when we were trying to get to one of the playrooms. But he grabbed me quickly and told me to not go in there.”

“Was it a threat?”

You grinned at his protective tone, “No, it was a warning. There were some really bad men in the other room. It was me and a few other girls. He told us to run back to my room and lock the door until he came to get us.”

Steve couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation as to why Ramirez joined the drug game. Sure, the function and presence of cartels had changed drastically over the last forty years, but it didn’t explain why he remained involved. In the eighties, the drug game was highly televised and spoken about, but the cartel violence was not as strong. Nowadays, and not even you could give a proper explanation, the violence was astronomical and basically advertised as something to expect when visiting certain countries. This was the mob game now, freaking Al Capone or the goddamn Godfather, absolutely meant to frighten whoever dare join or leave. For Ramirez to still be one of the big players even with that many internal changes, to be a good person in the middle of such hell, didn’t make any sense.

“He protected you.”

You clutched the pillow closer to your chest, the memory a good one even if it was weird. “Oh, yeah. Those guys he was warning us about were no angels.”

Steve gave an awkward smile, “I feel like I know more about your childhood than you know mine.”

“I’m all ears if you wanna tell me about little, asthmatic Steve Rogers.”

He raised his index finger at you, “Hey, I was more than just my asthma.”

“Oh, excuse me. I totally forgot about your scoliosis.”

The pillow under his head was now flying across the small distance to your face. You shrieked and sent it back.

“Stop bullying!” Steve laughed.

You shielded your face in case he decided to continue the pillow war. “What? I’ve got my health problems, too! I just don’t have the serum to help me out.”

But he didn’t throw it again. He repositioned himself on his back and placed both hands beneath his head, gracing the ceiling with a grin. “I remember this one time, Bucky and I were around eleven-years old, and I had this really bad asthma attack. Bucky just freaked out. I was choking and he was just holding me, screaming for help -”

You blinked, “This is really depressing, what are you-”

“-and! Bucky threw himself into a full-blown panic attack. So we were both choking on air, but I was starting to laugh at him freaking out, which only made him choke harder. We ended up throwing up.”

You were silent at the end of his short story, mouth open in a wide smile. “I don’t know what else to say other than that was one of the greatest stories I’ve ever heard.”

Steve rolled over, a literal twinkle in his eye. “See? Don’t interrupt me before I get to the good parts.”

This simple moment catapulted the realization that Steve hasn’t spoken to you this much in two years, to the front of your mind. In these past four days, you had spoken like you had never stopped, like it was never awkward, like you two seriously didn’t need another person in the room to simply converse about what you wanted for breakfast. Yet here you were, more words exchanged in the past four days than you ever thought possible.

After the fallout, you didn’t say one full sentence to him for seven months. Seven months. He hadn’t attempted a conversation with you either, but you actively avoided him like he was infected. Hell, he even moved out of the compound and into his own apartment to get away from you for most of the day. After your forced reconciliation, the awkward apologies, you still didn’t force any open conversation. But it was easier, lighter, and most conversations involved mission information.

Talking this much now was so easy, so simple, like you didn’t need to force the comfort - there was already full comfort, a sense of community with this man.

He was so different from when he insulted you while you were packing, annoyed by the fact that you pried too much. And now you were prying into his childhood and him yours without a lick of annoyance on either side.

“We both had eventful childhoods, didn’t we?”

“What, with both of us in the middle of a war?” Steve asked, a genuine look on his face.

“Guess our wars never really left us, huh?”

There was a knock at the door. You weren’t expecting Torres again today. Steve muttered ‘room service, maybe’ under his breath as you went to open it. You were startled to find Scott standing outside, two massive suitcases in his hand.

“Oh my god, I forgot you were arriving today!”

Scott scoffed, “Am I not as important as your other friends?”

You laughed and helped him inside, “Stop! You’re one of my favorite bugs!”

“Ha ha. Very funny. I’ll leave right now if you two decide to pile on me instead of each other.” Scott placed one of the suitcases near the door but the other at the edge of your bed.

“We’ll be nice,” Steve promised, standing to greet Scott with a hug.

“You better. Catch me up, please?”

The suitcase contained your outfits for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding. Whoever was in charge of costumes definitely went all out, hoping their work would make the big fight the most fashionable. Steve was given a perfectly tailored suit, navy blue and velvet. It was lined with vibranium, inside pockets covered with it. That would certainly be handy if you were forced to walk through metal detectors - vibranium couldn’t be detected. His suit for the rehearsal dinner was a lot simpler, the custom black and white aesthetic, but still protected with vibranium.

Your clothes were certainly not styled to match Steve’s, giving you a sense of individuality. It was perfect really - it would allow you to leave Steve’s side, if necessary, when the mission called for you to split up. Your rehearsal dinner outfit was two parts: a black, velvet long-sleeved shirt, slight turtleneck, and gold cuffs. It was joined by a long gold skirt, high-waisted, the front shorter than the back and sides more curled than ruffled. You would have to wear tights underneath, but it was beautiful. Vibranium was also stitched in for added protection. Your dress for the actual wedding, however, was a total knockout. Red, spaghetti strap, tight on top but loose once it reached your hips, a long slit on the left side. They were even kind enough to give you a pair of heels to match.

Yeah, Steve was Captain America and his appearance will shock the guests, but your attire will definitely be the second topic in gossip.

Scott was filing through the same papers you and Steve had reviewed earlier, a bowl of potato chips at his side. And it was peaceful - you and Steve even had the chance to nap.

“So, you’re gonna see Jackeline at the rehearsal dinner?”

You wiped the remnants of your nap from your face and groaned as you stretched, “She’ll probably be busy tomorrow when we go for breakfast, so yeah.”

Scott shifted uncomfortably in his seat, eyes practically attached to the computer screen. “And… she’s the one getting married?”

His tone started to worry Steve, “Yes, Scott. You good?”

Scott piled a handful of potato chips in his mouth, finger clicking the mouse every few seconds. His eyes were now wide, blinks forgotten. “Jackeline Vega. Jackeline.”

Steve ignored him now, “Hey, why isn’t your last name Vega?”

As much as you wanted to share about how and why you changed your last name, Scott’s demeanor interested you more. “Changed it when I became an American citizen - Scott, what’s up?”

He let out a tiny squeak, swallowing his snack quickly. “And she’s your father’s favorite?”

You rolled your eyes, “Mmm.”

Scott released a huge huff of air, shoulders falling as he raised his voice and turned the monitor to face you. “Think he knows anything about this?”

The photograph was blurry because it was enhanced, but you could still make out the face of a sister you hadn’t seen in years. Older, still with teenage features obviously, and tossed on what looked like a church alter-

Steve's eyes widened, “Is she…?”

Scott finished his sentence for him, “Fucking a priest?”

You covered your mouth in shock, “Oh my god, she’s fucking a priest!”

Bent on the literal church altar, skirt bunched around her hips, head thrown back in ecstasy and face in full view. And the damned priest, in between her legs and under the eyes of god.

“That’s why I asked!”

Steve clutched at his chest, head thrown back as he howled, “I think you were wrong about your sister.”

Now your eyes were glued to the screen, “Oh, I was fuck all from correct!”

Scott cleared his throat, “Is the priest… her fiance?”

Steve came down from his laugh attack, “I highly doubt that, Scott.”

“This is actually really damning evidence.”

You grinned at Scott, “For what? Painting her out to look like the most sinful whore? I might just congratulate her.”

Steve stared at you, judging almost. “For fucking a priest?”

“For proving me wrong. She’s not so innocent after all,” you responded, cheeks strained from how wide you were smiling.

“Clearly. This is… actually badass,” Scott admitted, turning the monitor back to him.

You teased, singing your next words. “Don’t let the Lord and Savior hear that.”

Steve glared, “Y/N.”

You leaned away from him, “What? Anyway, that’s gotta be one the worst sins to commit, right?”

Steve’s expression contorted from annoyance to disbelief. “We’ve literally killed people.”

“Pfft, but we’re not fucking priests. Right?”

Scott answered, nodding quicker than he needed to. “Right.”

“You’re literally asking that?”

You pressed your lips into a fine line and tilted your head at Steve. “Steve?”

He glared at you for a long moment before slowly shaking his head. “I’m not fucking any priests.”

Your response was immediate, “Alright! I gotta hand it to her, though. Who took the photo?”

Scott went back to fishing through the emails. “Some sleazy magazine that never got around to actually printing these out.”

“Someone paid them off. Or killed them.”

“I wonder who,” you replied sarcastically.

Steve continued, “You honestly think he would support her doing that?”

You shrugged and scurried back over to your unmade bed. “Not my problem.”

Scott interjected, “Okay, okay. How’s tomorrow gonna work?”

Steve answered first, “Well, we’re driving out around eight.”

You hummed in agreement, reaching over to unplug your phone from the charger. “Scott, you’ll just ride on one of our backs as we walk through the estate.”

“I kind of want to ride Y/N’s back this time.”

You snorted, “Now that doesn’t sound sexual at all.”

He hid his face in his hands, “You know, I heard it once I said it.”

“Course you did.”

Steve jumped back into the conversation, Scott’s embarrassment seeming to grow under the weird tension. “Then you’ll hop off and plant the bugs wherever you feel like they’re needed.”

“Easy peasy!” you cheered.

“Bucky and Sam gonna meet us Friday night?”

Steve nodded, “That’s what they said.” He looked over at you, scrolling through your phone and already smiling at something you found funny. He cleared his throat to get your attention. “You know they can be out here in under an hour if we seriously need them.”

You glanced over at Steve, his sincerity greatly appreciated. “I know. But all my faith is in Scott here.”

Scott moaned quietly, “Oh… no, let’s not put all the faith in me because I can’t handle that responsibility.”

You propped yourself up onto your elbows, “You saying I can’t trust you?”

“No, no! That’s not what I’m saying at all-!”

Steve rolled his eyes and looked at the man, a sheen of nervous sweat starting to form on his forehead. “Scott.”

Scott lowered his hands from his chest, “O-oh. She’s messing with me, huh?”

You chuckled and laid back down. “You’re so easy.”

The easygoing atmosphere for the next few hours almost had you believing you were on vacation, away from the bad guys and space aliens for just a moment. Almost like you weren’t in the middle of a drug war, a mob business, the literal daughter of a king. Scott had that effect, his personality such a sweet refresher and such a contrast to every soul in the compound.

Thor and Peter were also sweethearts and fun was always expected when they were around, but Scott had this different vibe. Maybe it was because he was relatively new, or that he had a child, or that he hadn’t suffered the same five years as everyone else did. Like he wasn’t yet tainted.

“You guys mind if I run a job inside a job?”

Your head snapped up at Scott’s crazy question, “You stealing something?”

To run a job inside a job was risky. There was no exact plan to keep both missions balanced, to somehow rank the other more important. You prayed it wasn’t something insane.

Scott chuckled under his breath, already grabbing his jacket and suitcase by the door. “No, I’m not stealing something. Hank needs me to speak to some guy he’s doing negotiations with about a space for a new lab headquarters.”

Steve tilted his head, “In Northern California?”

“Nah, the dude is vacationing out here for the time being. The lab will be in San Francisco again.”

You squinted at him, still cautious. “Where you meeting him?”

“Some nice Italian restaurant an hour out.”

Steve spoke before you did, similar thoughts running through his mind. “You check with Torres? We don’t know who might randomly show up there.”

Scott tried his best to reassure you, “Yeah, he said they’re following every car that leaves the premises and travels more than thirty minutes away. None of Ernesto’s men have been spotted further up north.”

You sighed. You didn’t want another member of your team to venture out in this area, let alone this goddamn state, without your eyes on them. You were protective, the proximity of your outside world with the one you had spent ten years building too suffocating of a reality.

Still, you told Scott goodbye with a steady voice. “Then enjoy your dinner, Scott.”

His voice picked up again, that childish and upbeat feeling wrapping you around his finger. “You guys wanna come with? I’m sure you’re sick of icky hotel food.”

Steve waved him off, “It’s actually not that bad-”

“Breadsticks. Garlic pasta. More breadsticks.”

You laughed, “That sounds nice, Scott but we can stay here-”

“Three-cheese pastas.”

“Scott, you can try all you want but-”

“Unlimited breadsticks.”

You shared a look at Steve, puckering your lips at the suggestion.

“.... We’ll sit far away from your table, okay?”

Scott opened the hotel door and started sprinting down the hallway. “I knew I could persuade you with that! C’mon!”

California at night was a death trap. Potholes on every stretch of asphalt, construction halted for who knows how long, random opossums lingering in the shadows just waiting to get hit by tires. It was prettier during the day - less of a ‘lead me into this forest, yes, kill me’ vibe.

You chilled in the backseat while Scott drove you guys to the restaurant. You had texted Bucky where you were planning to go, the message activating the group text chain.

Peter: it’s Wednesday! Who died?

Wanda: she’s literally texting us

Peter: Y/N, you won???

Bucky: fuck do I owe the fucking spider money?

Peter: pay up dude

Y/N: tf Bucky? You bet against me?

“You sure you two are good?”

The restaurant looked quiet considering it was a Wednesday night, but it was still crowded. There was a short line extending out the door and a… bouncer. You sucked in a breath and smacked Scott in the chest once you were out of the car.

“Thought you said this was a restaurant?”

Scott rubbed his chest, a look of disbelief spreading across his face. “Restaurant slash bar!”

“We eating with the Italian mob now? I can only handle one mob at a time, Scott.”

You nodded rapidly, pointing at Steve. “I agree with him!”

“Not every place has bad guys!”

You groaned and reluctantly stood at the back of line, pulling Steve’s hat lower on his forehead. It wasn’t like people couldn’t take one long, hard look at him and not know who he was, anyway.

“Can you guys just… enjoy a night out?”

“While on a mission?”

“While living your long lives. God, Y/N, you getting old already?”

Your mouth dropped, “I’m twenty-six and I’m not complaining about a nice dinner, Scott.” You pointed at the bouncer. “I’m worried about the fact that our ID’s are gonna be checked.”

Scott’s mouth formed an ‘O’. “Yeah, that.”

“Next.”

You shot Steve a worried look but handed the bouncer your driver’s license. He just looked at the date of birth and moved you along. “Next.”

Scott handed him his, doing his best to smile proudly while the bouncer scanned him up and down. “Next.”

“See? Wasn’t so hard,” Scott joked, standing next to you in the far corner of the entrance.

You rolled your eyes, “Wait.”

The bouncer took one look at Steve’s ID and gasped. Steve looked anywhere but the bouncer’s eyes, his bottom lip suffering the abuse of his incisors.

“Cap-Captain?”

Steve gave a sheepish grin, lowering his cap further. “Uh, yeah.”

“Enjoying your day?”

You pinched your nose.

“Would like it a lot more if you could lead us to a table with as much privacy as you can offer.”

You had to hand it to Steve for taking advantage of situations like this.

The bouncer agreed immediately, speaking with the manager and promising discretion. The manager said it was no problem, that it was the least he could do for you guys after you brought his son back to him after those rough five years.

The restaurant offered a somewhat real Italian setting, awarding their guests with as much real scenery and architecture it could. You could only compare it to the Venetian in Vegas as you had never actually been to Italy, but the live band and garlic smell was enough to transport you.

The lights were low, older couples enjoying the food and wine, and there was a small bar near the back of the restaurant. It wasn’t really a place for some shady business, but years of experience let you know that wasn’t always the case. It was second nature to eye women reaching into their purses, only to pull out a pack of gum. Second nature to wince at the sound of a loud laugh cutting through the quiet atmosphere.

As promised, you were led to a more private area of the restaurant, closer to the bar than to the band.

“Go run the job, Scott. We’ll just be enjoying our unlimited breadsticks,” you said, letting out a heavy and relaxed sigh as you settled into the private booth.

“That hat isn't really hiding those broad shoulders, Cap,” Scott laughed, slapping Steve on the back.

Steve slid into the same booth, ignoring the completely empty seat across from you. “Thanks, Scott. I’m aware.”

You tried to hide your blush as you squeezed deeper in your seat. Scott noticed though, side eyeing Steve who was none the wiser. “You know, I told him that he should have used those facial changing things SHIELD used to have.”

Steve grabbed the offered utensils and started unwrapping them from their napkins.

“What are we if not superheroes who think a baseball cap and glasses hide our identities?” you teased, shooting Scott a quick wink.

Steve answered almost triumphantly, “Uh, Superman?”

You giggled and grabbed the napkin he had unwrapped for you. “I’d argue Thor is more like Superman, but okay.”

“How am I not more like Superman? What-”

“Uh, guys? I see the dude so I’m gonna go. You two enjoy your meal,” Scott interrupted, running off to a booth located toward the middle of the restaurant.

You sat for a few awkward moments before you squinted and looked at Steve, who was sitting to your left and way too close. “Are we annoying?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like,” you spoke with your hands, “you and I bicker a lot because we love to annoy each other but you think it gets on other people’s nerves?”

Steve chuckled, rubbing his shoulder with yours. “Do you really care if it does?”

That blush of yours was starting to feel warmer. “No, just wondering if you felt that way.”

He shrugged, “I quite like our relationship.”

“Oh,” you smiled, looking down at your lap. “I quite liked it more a few years back but you know.”

He immediately tensed, body leaning away from you as if you were burning him. You shut your eyes and shook your head. “Sorry, that was low.”

He sighed deeply, “No, I deserve it. I’ll always deserve it.”

You took a risk and reached for his hand, squeezing gently. The kind gesture seemed to calm him, and he looked back at you. “I still shouldn’t have said it.”

He accepted that, and handed you the menu.

The hotel food was grand, it did its job of filling you up and providing the necessary nutrients, but there was just something about the carbs in pasta and bread. It ignited the food critic inside you, because now you were cursing the hotel chef and dreading having to order breakfast in the morning. No, dinner. You were having breakfast with your father tomorrow.

Scott was busy conducting his own business, bluetooth turned off but still glancing over his shoulder once in a while to check on you guys. Each time he did, he felt butterflies flutter in his breadstick-filled stomach. It was the first time he had seen the two of you so carefree, let alone with each other, and it was the most refreshing thing in the world.

Steve was in the middle of telling another childhood story, his main plate already finished and practically licked clean. But the unlimited breadsticks were coming out by the pound, a new stick in each of your hands every five minutes.

“I swear, she loved Bucky more than me!”

You covered your mouth and chewed, careful to not let anything through because of your giggle fit. “Steve! Your mother did not!”

Steve wiped at his under eye, clutching his chest as he continued explaining. “Bucky was always around and my mom would just linger every second she wasn’t working!”

“Bet she loved him.”

“See?”

“No, I mean she must have loved him like her own! Bucky was your best friend, your only friend. She probably thought of him like an angel sent from God!” you clarified.

Steve smiled wider at your cheesy explanation. They were happy memories, joyful ones that he would often think about while writing or drawing.

He continued with a soft confession. “I really wish I could see her again.”

You leaned your temple on your palm, “From everything you’ve shared with me, she sounds lovely.”

“She would have loved you.” The blush was back, and so was Steve’s, almost like those words were supposed to be kept in the back of his head. He cleared his throat. “God, she was so destroyed when Bucky first got his orders.”

“Was Bucky scared?”

“Scared? Absolutely fucking terrified. We talked about running away and changing our names so he didn’t have to go.”

The draft was such a horrible practice. The fact that men still had to enlist and hope no ‘necessary’ war was upon them. It was quite reassuring to know most of those men wouldn’t have to see battle today, they were given a choice, and there were agencies that managed people who could, like the Avengers.

“Steve…”

Steve just hummed softly, “Life in the forties, am I right?

Your voice also got quieter. “Why didn’t you run away?”

Steve huffed out a laugh, swallowing the last of his bread. “We tried. Got all the way to the edge of town before Bucky’s dad wrung us both back to kick our asses.”

Almost out of instinct, you gripped his hand again. You rubbed soothing circles into his knuckles, knuckles that hadn’t seen hand-to-hand combat in so long. There wasn’t much danger in the world nowadays, just small missions here and there. It wasn’t like the team was itching for another alien invasion. But these periods of well needed rest were odd, periods where bruises completely healed up and little pockets of weight were gained. Steve’s knuckles were soft, only having seen the ends of paintbrushes for a long while.

“...Where’s your mother?”

His voice snapped you from your thoughts, and you had to repeat the question in your own head a couple times.

“It’s not a happy story.”

There wasn’t much of a story anyway.

“But is it a story you need to get off your chest?”

Steve didn’t want to push too hard. The long pause in your relationship definitely didn’t soften this blow, and it only added to the strings of resistance. If you decided not to tell Steve about this, Steve would have to accept it. If anything, this was one of the toughest questions to ask someone when all you’ve been doing is ignoring them for two years.

“Not really much to get rid of.”

He nodded, only a slight hint of disappointment laced within his words. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Natasha was the only one with any knowledge of your mom. There was never an actual moment in which you freely spoke of her - inserting her likeness, her person, back into some alternate and fucked-up reality - you kept her legacy dead. It was obvious she hadn’t enjoyed this part of her life, no doubt it absolutely killed her to leave you trapped in it, so keeping her dead, even in conversation, was a favor.

But one drunken night and you were showing Natasha the one photo you had of her, stuffed deep in your wallet and crinkled beyond repair. Her black hair to her shoulders, lip liner a darker shade than her lipstick, hands intertwined behind her back as she arched forward in a playful tilt, shooting the camera a smile that was stuck around the word she was saying as the candid was taken. There was no recorded voice but you had a record of her movement, frozen in time.

Steve’s sincerity grasped you by the literal roots of your hair, because next thing you knew you were spilling the first thought you had.

“She was twenty-three. Working as a real estate agent, very beautiful, and she was engaged. To an American.”

Steve chuckled around his champagne glass, “Was that bad?”

You grinned at that, like he was already fully and deeply invested in your story. “Not necessarily. But everyone knew she was taken.”

“And your father?”

“He wanted to buy some houses. Saw her, wanted her, tried persuading her into going on a date. Nothing really worked, she didn’t accept his money or gifts.”

Steve fumbled over his next words. “Did she eventually?”

“No, but her brother did. My father didn’t know it was her brother, so he thought she was accepting them. Got mad when she still refused his advances.”

He was digesting this little by little. Steve had heard horror stories of girls he grew up with, forced to marry at a young age when they were caught in a passionate moment with a man, or when they ended up pregnant. Bucky and his mother had always instructed him to treat women with respect, to never intentionally or accidentally ruin their reputation, to protect and use his voice to stand up for them. And although women weren’t getting frisky with him when he was all but ninety pounds at the ripe age of twenty, that didn’t stop Steve from exchanging a few words and punches with men who had no right. “How did they end up together?”

You shrugged, reaching over for another breadstick. “No one knows. He invited her to a party one day and she didn’t come back for a whole week. Next thing her family knows she’s engaged to my father and no longer with the love of her life.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yeah, her family had no choice but to accept that. Her poor fiance, though.”

“Where is he now?”

Steve had this weird hope that the fiance may still be alive somewhere, waiting for your mother to find him. But that was just the hopeless romantic emerging.

You sighed deeply, “My father told my mother he killed him. My mother believed him.”

“So, he’s still alive? He didn’t hurt him?”

“Apparently he’s still kicking, yeah. But my mom became severely depressed from that lie.”

The restaurant felt colder and the air became thinner. Steve didn’t want his next thought to be true. “She didn’t...?”

You shook your head quickly, “No, she found out he was alive.” Even if you weren’t witness to it, you could still imagine your mother charting the areas she would have to run and swim through to get away. Wasn’t like it was a heartfelt thought, but the mere fact that she had that much determination to risk her life for love, it was somewhat therapeutic to think about. Like it was genuinely satisfying to imagine her defying your father. Still, your face drooped as you gave Steve the sad conclusion. “She didn’t even make it across the border before he had her killed for betraying him.”

His face fell in time with yours, “Fuck.”

“She left me with Maribel’s mother. But my father found me and told me she had an accident. Didn’t find out the truth until I was thirteen.”

“I’m so sorry.”

You shoved his shoulder with yours, a light chuckle cutting through the sad moment. “Not like you had a hand in this, Steve. It’s just my life.”

You were used to Steve’s generosity, his ability to make any person feel a part of his family - you had been on the receiving end of his sincerity for the past week now. But as you held his gaze, his body seemingly towering over yours, your chest flushed with such warmness, a tranquil promise of safety. He leaned forward, breath hitting your cheeks, hand still gripping yours.

“Not anymore. We’ll end this, Y/N. I promise you, we’ll end this.”

You took a risk and rested your forehead on his, his continuous promise still causing your stomach to twist pleasurably. “How’d we get so sad all of a sudden?” You pushed away and threw your arms in the air. “We need more breadsticks!”

Steve laughed loudly, the private booth still providing somewhat of a thin curtain to the other diners. “No, we need mints!”

Rolling your eyes, you blew your breath at Steve teasingly. “Weak.”

Steve groaned, “You and Scott are not getting into the car without chewing on a mint.”

“You got a thing against bad breath?”

“Take the mint.”

“I’m gonna fight you if you force the mint on me.”

He was reaching into his jacket and pulling the small case out. He winked at you. “I’ll win.”

He popped open the cap and held it out to you. He didn’t tip it though, as if he was waiting for you to extend your palm. Everything was silent for a minute, eyes challenging one another.

He could easily lean in. He could easily just tilt his head a little to his left and capture your lips with his. Every damn molecule in his body was telling him to do it, every bubble from that champagne somehow giving him some extra courage.

Your breath hitched slightly, and he leaned away. I’m such a coward, he thought.

You reacted swiftly, disguising the awkwardness. “You’re right, give me the mint. You should swallow like three.”

Steve snickered, “You ruined the moment.”

But you didn’t ruin the moment. And he just blamed you for it. Like he had already established - he was a coward.

You grabbed the mints he offered and popped them into your mouth. “What moment? I didn’t see any moment.”

Okay, he could just lean in right now and hope the mint freshness in your mouth would mask the garlic in his. Yeah, he could just lean in and do what he’s been thinking of doing for the last day and a half-

“Hey, you guys finished? Getting dessert?”

Steve almost shot from his seat, “Jesus fucking christ, Scott!”

Scott slid into the seat across from you. “You scare easily. Let’s get dessert!”

You were too flustered. Fine, okay. You’ll play along. If the gods want to reward you with this fun Steve, the Steve you were closest to years ago, then so be it. You’ll bite. And if he wants to resort back to his bitchy self, his hermit behavior, then you’ll fight him then.

Scott ordered so much dessert.

So much.

The little moment you had with Steve was still fresh, you could sense he was thinking about it too, but you opted to simply enjoy the night out. You were here with two friends, protection was just a phone call away, and you were safe.

Perhaps Scott had the same effect on Steve that he had on you. Absolutely demolished his ‘Captain’ self and released the guy who simply wanted to enjoy a mini road trip with his friends.

You were barely fifteen minutes into your ride home when Scott lowered the windows and turned the radio up high.

“Woohoo!”

You screamed over the loud roar of the wind, “Scott, it’s fucking freezing!”

Scott yelled back, “We just had three desserts each! Your blood should be running warm!”

You blinked away the dryness, “Dude!”

Steve, surprisingly, agreed with Scott. “Enjoy it!”

Your mouth dropped open and you followed Steve’s movements as he turned the radio higher.

The music blared and you were about to protest again, the air literally nipping at your sensitive cheeks, but the song that started was a non-skip.

You would indulge in this childishness once.

Once.

You reached around the passenger seat and gripped Steve’s shoulders, shaking him in place. “Ah, California radio giving us the classics!”

Scott leaned over and turned it up higher.

You swayed in your seat and sang along with Scott. “Bidi bidi bom bom!”

Scott pointed at you and recited the lyrics, “Bidi, bidi!”

Both of you sang, “Bom!”

Even with his eyes on the road, Scott was nailing some good dance moves in his seat. You both sang each lyric with your heart and soul, laughs escaping during the guitar breaks.

Steve just enjoyed the show. He didn’t know the song, the melody a foreign one for him, but it must have been popular for both you and Scott to know it. He watched you sway in your seat, hands dancing and voice matching the volume of the radio. Just the other night, you had mentioned how you never sang anymore.

But here you were, singing through the most beautiful smile Steve had ever seen.

He missed the sound of it. He missed hearing you sing in your room, no doubt you were dancing too since he usually heard your feet shuffling against your carpet. He missed the innocence you would casually portray, an invitation for anyone to befriend you. He missed teasing you lightly, and he regretted the roughness of his voice years later. He missed just walking into the common area and finding you there, cooking for yourself and anyone who wanted a plate - that plate usually for him. He missed you.

You were right here, voice hitting those octaves Steve didn’t think he would ever hear again. You were right here, and he missed you.

Scott was staying in a separate room. The dessert and alcohol had run right through him, and he bid you goodnight after he threatened to plop down in your bed if you invited him in.

The sound of Scott’s retreating footsteps seemed to suck all the air from the vents at once, whispering its song lovingly in your ear. It was both refreshing and terrifying to be left alone because now here you were, standing outside your hotel door with the super soldier you had gone to Hell and back with.

You inwardly cringed, the tightness in your chest sending your childish ass back to sophomore year of college. A first date, the lost promise of another - a proper teenage reaction to a crush. But this man in front of you wouldn’t let you delete his number from your phone; he wouldn’t avoid eye contact in the dining hall; he wouldn’t sit at the back of the lecture hall just to keep a necessary distance.

Granted, Elijah - poor, frightened Elijah - had seen you literally kidnap someone off the street under your father’s orders. This being before you went straight and moral, before you had met Fury, before SHIELD training. You were to blame for that sprouting relationship going south pretty quickly. So you avoided him, too - praying Ernesto or Seda could never track him.

But Steve, beautiful Steve who reloaded your guns when you couldn’t, who jumped in front of stray bullets for you and those he loved, Steve who very quietly asked you for various salsa recipes when he was in the mood to cook. Here he was, eyes also watching Scott walk away, no doubt experiencing the same tight coil within his chest. He hadn’t run, he had worked and fought with and against you, and he wasn’t running away.

No, Steve Rogers never ran.

The low beep from the hotel lock snapped you from your thoughts. You sensed his hesitance because when your history was truly reviewed with the most unbiased of minds, there was absolutely no reason to overthink. Hell, when you ran through the halls of Thor’s Asgardian palace with Rocket tailing you, the first joke out your mouth was how Steve would probably instruct you to respect a place like that and speed walk. Your first thought when starting the pilot episode of a new show is to wait for Bucky… and Steve, who would pop the kernels over the stove and add real salt and butter.

His first thought as he helped load people onto the planes in Sokovia was that your whiny ass better be on one of them. Or when Steve regrouped in the support circle, his first thought before he continued the discussion was that he really hoped you would walk through those doors and join - until one day you did.

Whether the two of you recognized the severity of your unspoken feelings, they were there. Silent and at a gradual increase. Never rushed, not entirely obvious because of the temporary roadblocks of unnecessary separation.

Steve was here in front of you, like he always was, and he was wearing the smallest nervous smile you had ever seen.

And you were here in front of him, like you always were, and he could not entirely read the mixed emotions on your delicate face.

You shuffled alongside your bed, stopping to shrug out of the heavy jacket you had on. “We should turn in early so we can be well-rested, in case we gotta fight tomorrow.”

Steve nodded in agreement but remained silent, hovering near the coffee table and monitors. Your back was facing him and he just watched you fumble with your boots and belt. It was like your back was on fire, bursting with fueled flames as you could literally feel his gaze boring into you. The overwhelming urge to simply snap and ask him what the hell he was looking at was strong, so in character, but you refrained. It was too intimate, too quiet, but before you could even ask him if he wanted the shower first, the warmth of his chest was near, inches away and calling.

Your breath hitched, shoulders rising slightly and exactly what Steve needed to witness. It was awkward for him to just stand behind you with no actual intention of touching you first - no, he needed a proper signal. So Steve waited those few precious seconds more until you turned, sun-kissed by the California sun and hair no longer in tight curls, before he glanced down at your glossy lips. You followed his eyesight, all knowing in his intentions, and you glanced at his lips as well.

A gesture of approval.

Steve pulled you in, both hands settling on your cheeks, thumbs exploring the corners of your mouth. He watched them dance and how your mouth parted slightly in response. He looked back up, studying the small crease forming in between your eyebrows and the pinch of water filling the inside corners of your eyes.

His thumbs felt like a gentle sigh, a promise of a sweet caress in both the daytime and dead of night. Although all his focus was on you, his own features reacted to the moment. His lips were also parted, sweet breath with the scent of those classic tiramisu’s he had devoured, touching the tip of your nose and equally trembling lips.

So goddamn intimate that you found yourself internally cursing those sitcoms Wanda had forced you to binge watch. Because the two love interests, albeit they had several months or years of growing tension, rushed into their first kiss for the sake of limited airtime. They didn’t prepare you for practically a ten-year build-up, a relationship that was both heavily work and friend related, the slowness of such a moment fans would most certainly be jumping out of their seats for. No, nothing could have prepared you for the warmth of Steve Rogers.

Your Captain.

You registered the soft feeling of his lips as they pressed against yours, overlapped only slightly. Eyes now fully closed in surprise and pleasure, you leaned into it more, hands placed on Steve’s rising chest. The squeeze of his hands cupping your cheeks caused your lips to pucker more, but you were relaxed in his desperate touch. He tilted his head a little to the left, your lips sliding against each other’s and noses bumping. Steve frowned in concentration, pouring whatever emotions he had felt throughout the last few years into this one kiss, and he knew he couldn’t possibly fully portray them. And almost as quickly as you thought about how sweet and innocent of a kiss this was, Steve’s tongue slowly peaked out from behind his teeth and greeted your bottom lip.

His tongue traced over your bottom lip warmly, welcomed by yours as you followed his lead. God, you would always follow his lead.

You tried to move in closer, but your elbows were already bent fully against him and his hips were only a few inches from your greedy ones. One tiny step forward and you would be completely flushed against him - but you chose to respect the distance Steve created.

You let out a quiet whine, body shuddering as Steve applied more pressure. It was as if Steve had never heard such a sound - completely unexpected and causing him to pause momentarily. He leaned away a little, lips still barely kissing yours. He opened his eyes, gaze wandering from your flushed cheeks still squeezed between his palms and to your fluttering eyelids. The crease between his eyebrows deepened as he debated leaning forward again, to be selfish for once and to pass forth the trophy for ‘waiting too long’. But as you opened your eyes, no trace of regret or hate swimming inside your irises, Steve froze.

You were his friend. His friend who teased him about the paint streaks across his forehead, who followed his lead no matter how ridiculous the order.

He didn’t want you to inspect him further as well, so he shut his eyes and rested his forehead against yours. It was only then that he felt you settle back down from your tippy-toes.

You gulped loudly, throat dry and lips instantly craving him again. “Steve…”

Steve let go of your face and dragged his hands lightly down your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He turned his head slightly, his breath now kissing your cheek. Although your cheeks were red, the absence of Steve’s palms made them cold.

He took a small step back, hands straining to stay on your skin as he reluctantly pulled them away. The absence of any warmth finally woke you from that intense daze and you frowned at Steve as he pulled away altogether. The instinct to reach out was there, and you cursed yourself for being so clingy.

“Steve?” you called again, voice hoarse but light enough to pinch at Steve’s fast beating heart.

He looked up and locked eyes with your confused ones. Oh, you’re gonna hate him for this.

He gave you a small and kind smile, one you had seen plenty of times when he was actually enjoying your company. He backed up to the door, gaze never leaving yours even as he reached for the handle and key card.

And he wanted to bring his hands back to your face to rub away that wrinkle between your furrowing eyebrows. But he simply opened the door and left you standing near the edge of your bed, flushed with a deep sense of longing and growing confusion.

Steve already knew the amount of heat he would receive from the moment gossip of the kiss spread. Whether he was first to tell or you were. Bucky’s going to kick his ass, for sure, no doubt about it. No matter his bond with Bucky, it could never excuse leaving you alone to unravel this situation. You had this hold over Bucky, a soft mutual understanding of mental torture, so this inevitable ass kicking would be justified. Plus, after years of being rejected over and over, mostly in the forties, Bucky might just kick his ass for simply being a dumbass.

But Steve felt calm, an added relaxation due to the whiskey cooling in his hand. If there was anything Steve was an expert in, it was overthinking. You two had that in common - were you overthinking while absentmindedly watching TV? Overthinking while rubbing shampoo into your scalp? Overthinking while angrily stomping your way down to the hotel bar to hand his ass back over to him?

He let out a sigh of relief when he didn’t see you burst through the doors.

“Anyone wanna start?”

Steve glanced around the circle of familiar and new faces. The group varied each week. Some people would try, share their anecdotes about lost loved ones, only to never show up for another session. Others often attended and never spoke, but they kept returning. Steve didn’t judge their choices - he couldn’t. No matter how many mornings he wanted to crawl back under the sheets and binge eat packaged foods, he never could. He had been at this job for two years. There was both pain and satisfaction in what he did. Sam would be doing this if he were here.

And he had to do this for Sam.

“My divorce was finalized yesterday.”

Steve looked over at the man who spoke first, a long-time member of this particular support group, and grimaced at his confession. The man couldn’t have been more than thirty, no wrinkles or gray hair, and he was ending a two-year marriage.

“I’m sorry, Michael.”

The man, Michael, shrugged sadly, “We still love each other, man. But seeing your newborn disintegrate in your arms does something to your soul that’s just… we both knew we needed to move on. Even if it was from each other.”

Steve squeezed the small, red stress ball in his hand and tried to offer more condolences and a kind smile, but it came out rather painful. He opted to stay silent in case Michael wanted to continue. Instead, another member decided to comment.

It went like this for almost an hour with Steve adding in his empathetic words of wisdom whenever he saw appropriate. It was good for everyone to share so openly, to carry the conversation with minimal involvement from Steve. Steve had shared snippets of his story with the group awhile back, careful to not mention the gruesome specifics. He had let out as much as he was able, not as much as he would have liked, but his main job was to facilitate. Besides, Steve went to confession every month to talk to someone - anyone - even if he wasn’t necessarily Catholic. But that’s just the thing - no one knew who they were anymore.

The sound of a scraping chair leg caught everyone’s attention, and they all turned to the entrance in search of the disruption. You paused in your movements, face scrunched in embarrassment. Opening one eye, you mouthed a quick apology and rushed to carry the chair to the circle.

“I’m sorry I’m late. Subway was a bitch,” you muttered, your embarrassed smile growing wider.

For over a year, Steve had subtly urged you to attend one of these meetings. He was witness to your nightmares, your destructive solo missions that even Friday had no records of, and your sudden breakdown last week. You were casually jogging around the outdoor track when you suddenly stopped and fell to your knees, broken sobs seeming to shake the trees around you. You were crouched for a good minute before Steve had seen you wipe your eyes and continue your jog. As if nothing happened.

To see you here, whether to share or to listen, prompted the proud and erratic beating of Steve’s heart.

“It’s completely fine. Time’s almost up but we still got time for you.”

You sent Steve a funny smile, amused by his professional tone. “Uh, yeah! A friend convinced me to come. He was pretty persuasive.”

Steve blushed, head tilting downward.

You introduced yourself and let the group know you were also an Avenger. No one seemed shocked and you were suddenly grateful for this mixture of people.

Steve sat and listened, his nerves settling.

“I’m gonna be honest with you all,” you started, thumbs dancing in your lap. “And I’m not sure how you’ll react.”

Steve sat up straight, eyebrows scrunching as he listened intently.

You sighed, wetting your lips briefly. “The day before the snap, I was supposed to die.”

You wanted to avoid Steve’s gaze until the right moment. You continued, “I went on a mission to Mexico. Alone, which was completely against protocol but hey, we broke a lot more rules than that.”

Steve cleared his throat which earned a chorus of chuckles from the group.

“And I was technically on house arrest but I found out a way to temporarily disable that ankle monitor,” you added, grinning from the laughs you were receiving.

“Anyway, all my potential backup was nonexistent. I had friends on the run,” you paused, glancing at Steve with a somber expression. “And other friends literally fighting another battle on their home planet somewhere in space. So, I went alone.”

“While I was bleeding out from a bullet my own father ordered, Tony was already up in space. Loki was already dead.”

You hoped no one commented on Loki’s role in your life. He wasn’t exactly a nice figure to suddenly name drop in New York, but he was important in your grief.

It was slightly unnerving to be on display here, but you weren’t exactly planning on returning. You just needed to rant.

“I stitched myself up the best I could in that quinjet - which I almost crashed,” you muttered, smirking at Steve. “Sorry, Cap.”

“This is the first time I've heard you flew. You’re not even authorized to fly,” Steve declared, face scrunched in confusion and astonishment.

“That’s not important,” you teased. “But the stitches were messy work. Horrible criss-crosses.”

Steve was in a tiny state of shock. He had known what happened to you, but to hear you talk so casually about the day before the world went to shit - it just made it more real.

You had mentioned before that you never dreamed about the snap, but about everything leading up to it.

“I woke up, betrayed yet again by my own blood, and Steve was suddenly there after two years. We were gonna fight an outside threat.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and huffed lightly, “I was still healing but I was on the battlefield. Stayed close to Nat most of the time.”

The group was heavily invested in your retelling. “I couldn’t fight him, obviously. But I did see him. I saw how he ripped that stone from my friend’s head.”

A few winces sounded around the circle.

“I guess I feel immense guilt. Like, I could have done something more even though realistically, I couldn’t. Kinda feels like I sat back and watched my friend’s die.”

No one spoke, but it was obvious everyone had survivor’s guilt.

“And now, I’m living with the pain of having all three of my best friends stripped from me while also celebrating the fact that the snap took my father.”

Shrugging, you gave your last sad smile to the group. “I feel guilty for what happened while also being grateful it took someone who deserved it.”

After a few seconds of silence, Steve spoke. “You’re here today to tell your story. No one has to agree or disagree with you. It’s your story. Tell it like it is.”

You chuckled, “I could easily bother Steve with this at the compound.” You smiled at the teenager clutching what looked like a stuffed animal in his lap. “But I had nothing else to do tonight. My only friends are gone.”

“You and Steve aren’t friends?”

This time it was Michael that spoke, his eyes bouncing from you to Steve. You turned to Steve for some kind of answer. Was it a yes? Were you more like coworkers than true friends?

Steve’s eyes softened and his kind smile was back.

You answered, “I guess. I did come here for him.”

Steve rolled his eyes and kept his light-hearted tone, “I’m really glad you did.”

Steve backtracked, clearing his throat as he addressed the circle. “I’m really glad all of you did. Same time next week.”

You busied yourself with stacking the chairs and dusting off your pants. Once most of the group had left, Steve gathered his things and walked over to you. “You take the subway?”

Your head shot up at the sound of his voice, and you stacked the final chair high. “I did. You drive?”

Steve hummed in response, “Want a lift?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “You’re not staying at your place tonight?”

“Nah, I haven’t seen Nat in a week. I should pay her a visit.”

He curled his jacket around your shoulders as you exited the building. You held it tightly, relishing in the comfort. The walk back to the car was quiet but not awkward. After such a heavy night, silence was most definitely needed. And just the comfort of being around someone you trusted added to the relaxation aspect of it all.

Steve kicked a loose piece of gravel to the street. You watched him for a few seconds before you spoke, voice light and a puff of cold air escaping your lips.

“Steve?”

He turned to you and waited for you to continue speaking.

“You know Sam would be so proud of you doing this, right?”

Steve watched the cold air leave his own lungs as well. He felt the weight of that statement pressing down on his shoulders as he looked up at the dark sky. “I know.”

Steve knew he was utterly fucked, so fucked that any line that had been established was stepped over and kicked a thousand yards back. His mind was made up, he would not run, he would not succumb to some former mindset 2016 Steve would have fallen victim to. He was a new person, a completely different person than he was out of the ice and after the snap. He deserved to cross the line, he deserved whatever happiness was afforded to him - he deserved comfort in the arms of another after years of denying himself.

He downed the rest of his drink with a loud gulp, mind made up, and headed back to your room.

It was best to just pretend it never happened… no? But did you want to pretend it never did? So many moments over the years where this could have happened, where either of you could have literally just said ‘fuck it’. As overthinking was a specialty, quite a useless skill, you thought about the countless fights you had.

Red in the face, hands clenched until nails imprinted little crescents, absolutely seething at the mouth. Some of the things you would yell were vile, none at all honest but with the intent to cause pain for only a moment, and mumbled apologies later. You were literally enemies for these past two, long years. Enemies who had to be seated and scolded, tricked into accepting defeat and living as teammates once more.

Perhaps one of those arguments could have been remedied by simply leaning in like you had tonight, by throwing each other against the wall, by pulling the roots of your hair as he tugged-

Nope.

No matter how much tension you were now realizing you had for this man, tension that could literally be fucked out, wasn’t it too late to act on it? You couldn’t pinpoint the chance you maybe had and missed.

Steve walked through the door in the middle of your rapid brainstorming. He just grinned sweetly and slipped into the bathroom.

As simple as that.

Now you couldn’t discern between the feelings of wanting to fight him or fuck him. Not being able to differentiate between them ignited a sour mood, and once he stepped out from the shower, you basically pushed him to the side to lock yourself in.

Even the warm water hitting your body couldn’t alleviate the pressure of overthinking. You disregarded your hair tonight and instead just washed your body. As quick as you could jump back out and go to bed, the better.

Sucking in a deep breath, you opened the door and shut off the bathroom light. Your eyes landed on Steve’s torso, shirtless and the only thing not covered by the white blanket. He hadn’t shaved his beard either, the length evident when he kissed you earlier. It felt wrong and right at the same time, a battle that you seriously did not want to deal with. To get involved with your mission partner was dangerous - not because Steve himself was dangerous, but because it was a giant distraction. A distraction that you couldn’t afford.

But as he put down his book and lay it in his lap, looking up to look at you through hooded eyes, sleepy but alert, the ‘danger’ was nothing but enticing.

You cleared your throat and padded down your pajama shorts absentmindedly, slinging your hair over one shoulder and focusing on plugging your charger into your phone. It was so silent besides your pitter-patter, and god, did Steve find that sound so relaxing, until you climbed into bed. Once your shuffling was done, the slight buzzing of Steve’s desk lamp drowned out all your other senses. And the longer it was heard, the more it sounded like a ticking clock.

Steve shut the lamp off, the only light now illuminating your figure from outside. He studied your breathing, watching how every so often you would bring your hand up to scratch your cheek or move a stray hair. You looked so gentle, so inviting, so small.

You were turned away from him and facing the wall, eyes shut as you listened to his movements. There was a small part of you that wanted to stay up all night talking, to lean on his shoulder and simply feel his warmth, to feel that beard against your cheek one more time. As quickly as those thoughts flashed through your mind did you scold yourself, that this was inappropriate and wrong and so dangerous.

You felt a dip in your bed, heavy and unsure, a lift of your blankets, and it happened so quickly that you could have sworn you dreamt it. Steve wrapped his arm around you, his broad chest pressed tightly against your back and his lips attacked the skin just below your earlobe. Your breath hitched, eyes shot open, and your hands reached up to grip his wrist. Steve stilled.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed, lips hovering over your blushing skin and breath practically blistering. You could feel him now, hard and pulsing against your ass and ready to move. You felt dizzy, overcome with such a rush of desire that you couldn’t help but stiffen in his tight grasp.

“Don’t,” you choked out, feeling his body become rigid and his breath begin to quicken.

“I’m sorry I-” he began to move away from you, voice no longer a whisper and tainted with panic.

“No,” you pulled back, tilting your head up to lock eyes with him. You brought your arm up to grasp the back of his head, and you tugged it back to your neck. “Don’t stop.”

Yeah, he was utterly fucked. “Fuck,” he groaned, continuing the attack on your neck. But he gained momentum now, arm squeezing you against him tighter, and voice cracking as he moaned your name.

“Steve, please do something.”

Your hands found their way back to his arm, gripping it tightly as he fumbled with the waistband of your shorts. He played with it, teasing in his actions, almost as punishment for the years you tormented him with your attitude. His lips pressed harder now, finding each patch of available skin on your neck and flushed cheek, and Steve has never felt so aroused in his life. He wasn’t even inside you, but the quick gasps he heard from you did plenty in aiding the rush of blood from his head to his stiffening cock.

“Tell me what you want. Please, tell me and I’ll give it to you,” he moaned, the slightest experimental role of the hips causing you to whimper.

“Touch me,” you practically sobbed, rolling your hips back against him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt all of him.

And just like that, he gave you what you asked for. He gripped your hip and shoved you closer to him, hot and ready and pressed firmly against you. He rolled his hips into you, little whimpers of his own touching your sensitive ear. He quickened his pace and he found it hard to think straight when the scrunch of pleasure all over your face, making you look so willing, was all he was focused on. He focused on the way you bit your lip, a bite and then a gasp, and then you were back to biting as if you were trying to restrain any higher moan. And even with only the moonlight illuminating the room, he could see the sun-kissed color of your skin and the bruising he was causing. He kept his mouth on you as he rocked himself against you, indulging in a few more selfish seconds of pleasure before becoming his generous self.

He dipped his hand into your shorts and found the sweet nub that so desperately needed attention. His brain almost short circuited, the feeling of his fingers finally sliding into your wet lips making his throat dry. He drew little but skilled circles, each twirl of his index and middle finger in unison with the grind of his hips. Your mouth fell open by such pleasure, and you braced yourself by placing your left palm on the mattress and pressed down, nails scratching the cotton fabric and alerting Steve of your excitement. You pushed back against him, timed and in perfect harmony.

You knew the room wasn’t on fire, but even if it was you didn’t think to check.

“Keep talking to me, Y/N. Keep talking to me,” Steve begged, each rotation of his hips gaining pressure. His eagerness prompted you to reach back up and grab him by the hair, yanking his head to your tilted one and smashing his lips against yours. Steve gasped at the pleasant sting, somewhat surprised with himself that he liked that form of roughness. But who was he to judge his kinks when the tip of your nose was turning redder, the blush in your cheeks mixed with barely visible silver droplets of sweat, and a purple outline was beginning to form on your plump upper lip?

The kiss was sloppy, uncoordinated, but still beneficial in getting Steve to rut against you even harder.

He could so easily pull your shorts down and enter you, and if he was anything like he felt, then you knew it would sting. But you craved that sting and stretch, the thought of him inside you causing another gush of desire to leak from you. Steve dipped his finger deeper into you only to accumulate your juices and spread them higher. He went back to rubbing expertly, actions gaining speed to match your whimpers.

“Fuck, Steve,” you moaned louder, and you swore you felt tears forming in the corner of your eyes. You pressed back harder, his hand rubbing and pressing down on your stomach simultaneously. Your head felt cloudy, the pleasure coursing through your veins and to the very tips of your toes. “Oh, my fuck.”

Steve paused his fingers to trail his hand back up your stomach and to your breasts, pulling your tank top down to spill them. The sounds leaving your throat set him on fire, desire pulsing everywhere - his head, his heart, his aching cock that was pressed so closely against you that he could feel you vibrating. He pinched your nipple and rolled it, closing his eyes in response to your dirty purrs. “Let me make you come, doll.”

“Wasn’t that the point?” you quipped, ass tilting at an angle that caused Steve to choke. He growled from the attitude he couldn’t believe you still fucking had during a moment like this and kissed you roughly, both your broken moans molding into one. His hand returned to your shorts.

“Do that again,” he begged, hitching his leg up to rest on yours. The angle allowed him to drive his hips even harder. You maneuvered to provide the same tilt, grinning at the pleasurable cries that left your Captain’s mouth.

“I think I’m gonna make you come first,” you chuckled and took his bottom lip between your teeth. You pulled lightly, concentration still in the circle of your hips. He looked back down at you, determination and undeniable lust in his eyes. He thrust his aching cock against you, sliding himself over your ass. He did it hard but slow, the pressure applied giving the head of his cock such a sweet squeeze as he bumped it against the curve of your lumbar spine.

The heavy duvet was abandoned now, cold air from the hotel air conditioner failing in cooling you down at all. You both had a thin sheet of sweat on your clothed bodies, goosebumps standing proudly, and lips all plump and red from your harsh kissing.

Steve held you so close, so tight, and his fingers were drawing such rushed and tiny circles that you swore his wrist had to be cramping up. But the sound of both your whimpers started to mesh together, alerting you of such a sweet climax up ahead.

“Steve, fuck, fuck, ohh,” you mewled, voice now high pitched and yes, it turned Steve on incredibly but it also fueled you. Your pornographic moans ignited an even deeper desire within you, just the true fact that Steve was touching you, Steve was getting you to make these sounds, Steve is actually hearing these sounds, Steve is making the same exact sounds.

“I-, please, come for me,” Steve pleaded, cock twitching with each thrust as he neared his end. “Make me come.”

His begging, his equally high voice, his skilled fingers rubbing rapidly and the slight pain from that, his breath burning your neck, were all too powerful, their combinations causing the fire in your core to explode and make you see white in a flash, black dots later clouding your vision. Your nails dug into his moving arm, crescents branded into him. You clenched around nothing, walls fluttering and thighs shaking as they pressed around his hand and fingers.

The inappropriate squelching sound of your juices spreading as your thighs clenched around his cramping fingers, the slide so sensual and dirty, had Steve rutting against you one, two, three more times before he came in hard but long spurts. His mouth hung open, breath still fanning your neck, and his eyes were so tightly shut that the force was enough to strain them.

“Oh, fuuuck, yes, yes!” Steve groaned, his body taking longer than usual to recover. His orgasm was powerful, more powerful than when he got himself off in the shower or in the comfort of his bed at night, and he knew it was because you clouded his senses. Of course, there was an added benefit to getting off with someone else, aiding that person in the same endeavor, but because it was you, it made the climax even more forceful, more intense. The whole situation was both unexpected and calculated, gentle and rough, and Steve’s heart was beating so fast by the thought of what just occurred that he found himself wanting to spill into you all night long, and to apologize for overstepping an unspoken boundary.

You could feel the wetness of both your own release and Steve’s, head still cloudy from such a sharp orgasm. You hummed in satisfaction, reaching your arm over once again to lift his head up by his hair. He hissed at the pull now, his body all fucked out and satisfied. “You good?”

Steve gave you a lazy smile, chest heaving in unison with yours. “I’m okay. You?”

“I’m good.”

Steve scanned your face for any regret just in case your words held other meaning, but all he could see was your satisfied expression, cheeks still flushed pink, hair tangled, and pupils dilated. He hesitated for a second before he leaned down and connected your lips, molding his with yours slowly and chastely. You both sighed at the feeling, highs now lowering and the coldness from the air conditioner causing a different set of goosebumps to appear. Steve pulled away, giving you one last peck as if testing the waters, and rested his forehead against yours. You both relished your post-orgasm bliss for a few silent minutes before cleaning up.

You shared playful shoves as you cleaned up. It was almost innocent, a huge contrast to the sinful activities you two had just committed, but there was a genuine feeling of understanding in the room. Your heart clenched at the simple sight of Steve washing his hands, eyes meeting his in the mirror, a soft look in his that startled you.

You gave him a smile so as to not alert him of your reaction, and exited the bathroom to climb back into bed. You drew the heavy duvet back over your body and cuddled in it deeply, chin hidden underneath and back facing Steve’s bed. It was a few more minutes before Steve came back into the room, shutting the light off, and looking at your resting form. He wanted to climb back in with you and hold you innocently, to have the feeling of your warm back against his broad chest, gentle exhales tickling the arm that would wrap around you. But he just looked back and forth from your bed and his, and he decided to not push the boundary further. He hesitated with this decision, but climbed into his own bed, the feeling of his cold sheets making him immediately regret it. He shuffled silently, his body facing yours.

You wanted to lay beside him too. But whether you were making a smart decision or an absurd, cowardly one, one thing was certain: you could no longer ignore the stacking of such emotions you had for this man.

It almost angered you, how much you denied yourself of even a simple crush for literally ten years, and it made you mad at Steve, too. Because if he hadn’t pushed you away, then maybe you could have accepted this sooner.

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

Text

Begone

Streamer Gang & Asexual Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Acephobia, Swearing

Genre: Platonic Fluff, Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having recently come out as asexual, Y/N faces some less than pleasant or appropriate responses in their chat during their stream with the gang. Luckily, they’re not alone in battling the haters this time.

Requested by the lovely Anon who told acephobes to begone, yeah you know who you are hehe. Thank you so much for the request darling! Let’s show these acehobes who they’re messing with! Love, Vy ❤

Boy is this nerve-wrecking or what? Sure, I maybe woke up with a ton of confidence, I listened to motivational and uplifting talks and listened to mood boosting music. I had a healthy breakfast and a cup of coffee. Damn it, I went on a run, all in an attempt to convince myself that dealing with the online world again is but a piece of cake for a badass like me. Well, low and behold, that feeling didn’t last very long. Here I am, chewing my nails off at the though of hopping in the Discord call and Among Us lobby with my friends and starting my stream. It’s not like I’m not expecting my friends and fans to support me - of course I am! I know they’re gonna give me a ton of love and appreciation and support and uplift me no matter what. But then again, there’s still those people who believe me and other people like me to be invalid and broken and whatnot.

Those are the ones I wanna avoid.

It’s not like their words mean much to me but I simply don’t wanna see em, you know? It’s not only about me - it’s least about me actually - it’s more about all those wonderful people they are insulting when they say shit like that about asexuals and all the people on the ace spectrum. I can’t help but flare up and get angry on the behalf of all my ace friends and even people I’ve never met.

It’s also my first time being directly thrown into the fire instead of getting caught in the crossfire seeing as how I came out to my fandom via a tweet and an Instagram post a week ago, telling my identity’s truth: finally bringing my asexuality to the surface to shine its brightest so I can be be my best and reach for my full potential.

But damn am I afraid to see how everyone took it.

My friends were quick to jump in and take me offline before I start refreshing my own posts to see the comments under them. Lord knows that without them I would’ve driven myself insane, I’ll forever be grateful for what they did and the lengths they went to to keep me offline and whatnot. One word to give you an idea of how invested they were in this: origami. All of us might as well have been born with two left hands and yet we still tried doing origami. Freaking origami.

Damn do I love my friends.

But now I don’t have sheets of paper and my friends to distract me. I have a fanbase to entertain and another friend group I haven’t talked to in a while. I don’t wanna get any predictions in already so I don’t jinx myself, so I’m just gonna say it’s gonna be...interesting regardless of what happens.

Then again, when is it not interesting when the streamer gang’s involved.

Deep breaths, Y/N. You got this

Listening to that encouraging little voice inside my head, I finally equip my headphones and in one fluid motion turn my camera on, officially starting my stream and unmuting my mic as I hop in the call with everyone.

“Hi guys! Guess who’s returned!“ I exclaim cheerfully, desperate to hide the nervousness of my voice.

“You really missed your opportunity to say ‘guess who’s back...back again’ didn’t you?“ Charlie is the one who greets me first, sounding rather disappointed in me in his usual jokester manner. It’s nice to hear, it makes me feel like nothing’s changed in the week I’ve been gone. Like I’m still the same person to these people. I really am the same, I just now am a lot better version of myself. Almost as though I’ve reached my final form. It feels empowering really. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Charlie laughs again, “Congrats, by the way. You keep proving you can get cooler and cooler.“

“Careful there Charlie, I can only handle so large of an ego.“ I joke back, rolling my eyes playfully as a wide grin spreads across my face, “No, but seriously, thank you so much, man. It means the world to me that you support me.“

“Um, how could we NOT?“ That’s very clearly Rae, “Hun, you are so brave and amazing and wonderful, how could we ever NOT support you?“

“Yeah, we’ll always support you no matter what, Y/N. We’ll always be your friends, through thick, thin and beyond.“ Poki too interferes, her words only making my smile wider.

“Alright, alright, y’all are gonna make me cry and I haven’t even read my chat yet, hold on.“ I say, fanning my face to dry the tears I hope the webcam isn’t spotting, “Darn, you guys are the best. Sorry, give me a sec to gather my composure, I’ll be right back.“

I quickly mute my in-game mic as I turn to my chat where I see the same amount of love and support in the form of comments and emojis flooding in from my viewers. A warm feeling spreads throughout my chest, making me feel the most comfortable with myself I’ve ever felt. The most loved I’ve ever felt. The most seen and understood. To finally be you feels like you are finally really living in this world, not like you’ve been already living in it for God knows how long. It makes me so freaking happy and fulfilled to finally be living as me, as the real me.

Unfortunately, in life, nothing can be 100% pure and good. There’s always at least 1% there threatening to ruin all your happiness you worked so hard to build or obtain. It may be one in a hundred, but fuck it’s powerful and effective.

And in my case it comes in the form of two comments that stick out to my eyes. Acephobic comments saying my identity’s fake, claiming I’m faking it, saying us acephobes are immature creatures who refuse to grow up, or attention whores. Or just saying we’re delusional and in denial, confused about who we are.

I hadn’t even realized I was clenching my jaw and fists but when I do, I slowly relax my muscles and crack my knuckles before addressing the two people who spat out that nonsense.

“Ok, listen here, shooterpro69 and yourmom_lol. For starters, I want to apologize for your ignorance and lack of education on the matter of asexuality. In fact, for you especially, I plan on making an educational video, explaining asexuality to people who need or want to learn more. You, my friends, are in desperate need to be fed some knowledge cause damn, God knows how many people secretly think you’re hella stupid. Not that they’re wrong to think so but anyway. Unless you have anything nice or positive to say, begone from my chat. Actually, when I think about it, begone from every chat. No one needs you polluting their communities with acephobia and hate.“ I say, all spoken in a calm tone despite the boiling anger within me. People who know me well would probably be able to tell I’m fuming underneath the calm façade, but at least I got my message across loud and clear.

“WOO HOO, You tell em Y/N!“ Toast cheers, clapping his hands and whistling as more cheering arises from each my friends, leaving me in a state of mild shock and confusion.

Wait, what?!

“Um, wait, you guys heard that?“ I ask, my eyes darting to thein-game mic symbol that shows an not crossed-off mic, meaning it was enabled during the entirety of my speech.

“Hell yeah we did! You slayed them, Y/N! Damn goddamn!“ Rae whistles too, her enthusiasm wafting over me like a breath of fresh air.

“I second that!“ Corpse joins in, “And remember what we said - we’ll support you through anything. Need to bury an acephobe’s body, we’re the people you should call.” He says, confident as heck.

And I just can’t hold it in anymore - I burst out laughing, doubling over from the intensity.

If I thought I was happy and fulfilled before, this has to be the closest to paradise I’m gonna get on Earth. All thanks to these wonderful people. Friends are really something else aren’t they: they come into your life - often unexpectedly - and change it completely. Suddenly you’re not alone, you’re not forced to deal with everything and face everything on your own. Someone’s got your back and you’ve got theirs.

Through thick, thin and beyond.

And it’s so fucking amazing.

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse @sunnyrae-cessh @ladykxxx08 @meowiemari

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kunimikat · 4 years ago

Text

When they find out you don’t love them anymore

(Heyyy, so there might be a few grammar errors, but this one is pretty long so hold on) Also do you want the good endings to these? Idk just asking

It started when you didn’t hang out as much with him

You’d make up excuses, ignore, or even give small lies

But he didn’t really take it in any way other than it was you having a hard time with school and stress

So he let you distance yourself

But when you started getting further, and started purposely giving out of the box reasons to not be around him

His gut started to churn

So each day he’d tried to get some way to get your attention

Monday

“Hey dumbass, let’s cook breakfast for the rest of the idiots today, just you and me.”

But when he went to get you up you just turned the other way. He rolled his eyes, a small smile making its way onto his face. The ash-blonde propped a knee up onto the edge of your bed, his hands caging you between them. Yet you barely reacted and instead you mumbled “Go away Bakugo, aren’t you supposed to cook with someone else today?” A hurt expression washed over his face in an instant, though he just thought it was just you being groggy. He started tickling you, a devilish smirk on his features, but you suddenly push his face back forcefully.

“I said get the hell out Bakugo! If it was you you’d be fuming when I try to wake you up so just go!”

You pulled the cover back up, and that was it. It hurt Bakugo even more when you didn’t even look back. But he just snarled and pent it up.

Breakfast didn’t taste as good as usual.

Tuesday

You were laughing with Todoroki when Bakugo entered the classroom. And he already didn’t like it as soon as he saw your hand on his shoulder, your leg brushed up against him. He immediately went over and snatched you back into his chest. You scoff “Bakugo- The hell?” You smack his hand off of you. You glare at him before nodding to Todoroki, not sparing Bakugo a glance as you walked back to your seat, starting conversation with Jirou as if that didn’t just happen. Bakugo stared wide eyed at your back then to a smirking Todoroki. He stood frozen. “Just lay off my s/o half n’ half.” He mumbleds as he went to his seat. ‘Was I....was I the wrong one?’ Bakugo jerked his head to the side to get rid of the thought. ‘Like hell I’m wrong.’

But he felt a pit in his stomach remembering your hand on Todoroki’s shoulder.

Wednesday

Bakugo wanted to take you hiking with him since you guys had been doing what you’ve wanted to do for the past few months.

But he didn’t expect you to be so upset.

“Really Bakugo? We always have to do some lame shit when you want to go somewhere, do you really like hiking anyway?”

He furrowed his eyebrows in annoyed confusion because you even asked that question.

“No shit, I’ve told you how many times I go hiking, do you not fucking listen? Last time I checked you ain’t deaf, so I thought you’d know by now.”

You quirked your brow up and rolled your eyes, walking off. Bakugo grabs your arm dragging you back, your faces so close your noses are touching.

“The fuck is your problem today? For the past few days you been bitching off, the hell is up with-“

“You, you’re my problem.”

And you pushed him back, opening your phone as you started to text someone and turn the corner in the hall.

Bakugo didn’t want to acknowledge the tears that streamed down his face as he walked to his dorm.

Thursday

Bakugo won the challenge in today’s lesson overall, yet he couldn’t help but look over and see your eyes on Todoroki the whole time. Even when he pushed himself, blew the biggest explosions, even won the damn thing. He couldn’t even get an ounce of his own s/o’s attention.

Bakugou huffs as he stormed to where and Todoroki were. He wrapped a arm around your waist. But he didn’t pay attention on the unimpressed expression on your face. But he did hear when you called back to Todoroki, “You did your best out there! See you tomorrow!”

And just like that you got of his arms and walked back to the locker rooms. But he grabbed your hand pulling you back almost instantaneously. “The fuck? You’re not gonna say anything to me? Is this a fucking joke?” A perplexed and pained expression on his face. But he was tempted to really do something when you sighed and started to walk off. “Yeah good job Bakugo, not like you need a boost in your ego though.”

For some reason hanging out with Kirishima at the arcade was the most amount of happiness Bakugo has had all week.

But as soon as he got back to the dorms the same depressing feeling washed over him.

Friday

“But why? Why don’t you love me anymore damn it!”

It was raining hard, the droplets kept mixing with the harsh rain as you both stood over the now soiled picnic food. He tried, he tried everything to get you to listen to him. But now you both just stood silently in the rain.

“I’m sorry Bakugo...it’s just I’m not really interested anymore. It not like I hate you or anything-“

“BULLSHIT!”

Bakugo was seething, rain starting to evaporate on his hands as they flared up.

“This past week...no,fuck, MONTH! You just cast me to the side like I’m a piece of fucking scum! I try...I try so fucking hard, and I’ve never even been in a damn relationship before! So I know I’m not perfect, I FUCKING KNOW. I KNOW I’m not like a prince like fucking half n half, but damn don’t you see I’m trying to work it out? I haven’t felt this much for anyone before Y/N! WHY... WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH? WHAT DID I DO SO WRONG? FUCK Y/N I’LL EVEN CHANGE! JUST.. Bakugo went quiet as a sob wracked his body, leaving him speechless for a moment. His voice cracks, “..don’t leave me alone Y/N, I don’t want to feel alone again after all this time.”

Yet even after Bakugo crouched to the ground, head in hands. He hears a disappointed sigh, his head almost gets whiplash from how fast he shot his head up. You looked at him with cold eyes and looked down at him with no interest.

“Listen Bakugo, I tried being nice about it but, I don’t love you anymore. I thought you were stronger than this, I guess not. What a shame. You brought me out here to say all of that? I’m cold, and I’m heading back to the dorms, but I did clean up the picnic during your tantrum. Sorry, Bakugo.”

Yet the apology was so cold it just felt like blurred lines of sentences came from your mouth to him. The rain drowning out any emotions other than the hurt and pain his heart felt. Bakugo sat in the muddy grass, his eyes blown as he reached pitifully at your form trudging farther and farther through the mud.

Aftermath

He just wasn’t the same.

Bakugo was even more aggressive but most times he’d take it out on the people that got too close to him.

But when he’s not angry, he’s just silent

Dozing off the all of a sudden at random times in class you’d look over to see his desk charred and he doesn’t even realize it

He’d had constant stress from the piling work on his desk as he sat in bed and stared at it with no motivation

Even though he got back on track, and a bit better, it still gnawed at the back of his head everyday of what he should’ve done instead what he did

During Hero Training when he’d hear you cheer for Todoroki, he knew he was never going to get a sincere apology

He knew he was never going to hear you cheer like you cheered Todoroki on

He knew he was never going to get the attention he wanted when he saw your arms linked with your group of friends during graduation as you walked off.

He knew he was going to never fill the void he thought he long forgot even after how many years of highschool he graduated, and how many years of hero work

Nothing and no one could make him feel the way you used to.

He noticed when you leaned out of his touch

Or the small unimpressed looks you’d have when you guys would kiss

And when he would ask you’d wave it off like it was nothing

Even when you surprisingly pushed him off of you as the class was doing movie nights, sitting with space in between

Midoriya noticed every single little thing

Yet when he confronted you about it you waved it off again and left before he could even ask you anything more

So, he decided to do a few things for you just in case he did something wrong and wanted to make it up

Monday

He placed a small gift on your desk. It was a small cat-version of all might in a box. At first you smiled, but then checked the signed name tag, he nearly screamed when you scoffed at it and just tossed it into your bag. He felt his heart clench but payed it no mind. He planned the right time to come in and walked right over to you.

“H-Hey Y/N! Did you like the little gift I bought?”

He could see the clearly fake smile on your face when you nod you head, but quickly dismiss him as you see Kirishima enter the room and walking over to him. Excitedly greeting him. Like he just gave you the gift instead.

Midoriya whimpered and gripped his bag straps. Ignoring how his stomach felt like it flipped.

Tuesday

Midoriya’s almost broke down when he went in to hug you in front of Kirishima and instead you went over and gave the redhead a ‘friendly’ hug.

“Hey Y/N! Are you and Midoryia busy or something?”You shook your head and went on in conversation, blatantly ignoring Midoryia, making him kind of want to throw up lunch. He frowned because, didn’t you guys plan something? Why did you lie?

The only person who actually paid attention was Bakugo, and even he felt a little bad. So he grabbed Kirishima’s collar and pulled Kirishima with him, locking eyes with Midoryia with an unknown expression. Then rolling his eyes and looking off. But Midoryia knew for sure he owed him a favor. He tried grabbing your hand but you pulled away.

“Sorry Izu, I uh...I have to go out for a bit.”

“But weren’t we going to go to the cafe today?”

“I know Izuku but...my friend texted me and there was a change in plans. I’ll see you later though!”

Yet he didn’t see you for the entire evening. He wrote down your conversation in a notebook. Analyzing what he could’ve said wrong. He didn’t even realize frustrated tears smearing the words.

Wednesday

People started to notice the nervous tics Midoryia did when you’d start talking to Kirishima.

“Are you okay Midoryia? Your hand is bleeding. Do you need to head to the nurse?”

“Ah! I-it’s okay Todoroki! It’s nothing, really!”

He didn’t want to leave the room right now, especially with the weird feeiling in his gut when he saw you lean in a little too close to Kirishima made his hand feel numb.

Thursday

Midoriya noticed your small lingering touches and stares on Kirishima during training. He even noticed you were quieter when cheering for him than you were Kirishima.

He noticed you smiled more at his jokes than his

He noted you suddenly liked the things you said you always hated when Kirishima said was into it.

And he kept in mind that evening you barely looked his way. He frowned at the thought and decided to walk over to you. But instead he wanted bawl his eyes out when you made eye contact, and instead of greeting him you started walking forward with Kirishima.

Friday

“I can’t find a single note on what I did so wrong to make you hate me so much.”

You couldn’t even realize the boy in front of you. Blind rage all over his face, fists clenched, and shaking body. All because of you.

You honestly wanted to cry because you were so used to the loving looks he’d always give you to the cold and angry one he had on now. But you knew you didn’t deserve to feel this way. You knew what you did was wrong yet, you can’t get rid of the guilt washing over yourself as you finally locked eyes with him.

“I...I give you so much time and attention. Love...appreciation, patience. So much fucking patientce Y/N. Yet, yet you just throw it away.”

The dead grass crunched under his weight as his knees slightly buckled. The snot and tears now covering a majority of his face as he cried. His sobs sounding louder and louder in the silent evening. He bit his lip as he clenched the part of his shirt over his heart.

“It..it hurts so much, why, why don’t you love me like I love you?”

He clenched his teeth before repeatly beating the same spot on his chest. You looked in horror, then rushed over to get him to stop. He grabs you hand just as you were about to stop him.

He looks at you with such a broken gaze. Puffy eyes, and tears still streaming down his face as his scarred hand holds onto yours. Quivering lip and clenched fist.

“Was I just never enough?”

Your eyes started to fill with tears as you covered your mouth. Shaking your head repeatedly, as words couldn’t leave your mouth.

“I’ve written so many lines of the possibilities of what I could’ve said wrong. Or what I gave you. How I kissed you, how I touched you, Y/N, I-...”

“It’s not that you did anything Izuku! It’s just...I fell in love with someone else and I didn’t know how to end it.”

You looked down in guilt.

“Haha...my prediction was right. I was just never lived up to what you wanted.”

“Izuku I-“

“It’s getting late L/N, let’s go.”

It was a quiet walk back to the dorms.

Aftermath

He just kind of went airplane mode

He wasn’t the same mumble-awkward teen he usually was

But instead he’d mostly stare out the window

Or endlessly write notes

He became engrossed in his studies

Rarely going out, barely talking to anyone, and even not eating cause he felt like it would interrupt his studying

When out on his patrols he’ll try to save anyone and everyone he can by himself.

And when he fails it sends him into a complete spiral

It makes him feel the same way he did that day when you two separated

Like he didn’t do enough so it was all his fault that it ended in this way

Regular panic/anxiety attacks

Bakugo actually leaving him alone and instead checking up on him and making sure he eats (forcibly)

Todoroki, Uraraka, and Iida routinely make sure he was actually going to sleep on time, or getting any at all

It did take him a while to actually get over it

And it totally affected how he looked at future relationships

When he does get with someone everytime he just suffocates them with attention, gifts, and anything he feels he isn��t doing right he’ll do it 110%

So a majority of his early adulthood he spent single- or in short-term relationships

Eventually he stayed single for awhile since he’d always compare them to you

Though he does have days where wish it was different

Wishes it was you next to him when he woke up

Wishes that you would hold his hand when he has a bad day at work

But when he has the bad days where the anxiety, hero work, and pressure gets to him.

He just thinks of the way you used to smile at him.

Eyyy so it was originally gonna be 3 but I realized I made it a little too long. I basically had really shit wifi so that was a part of the small hiatus. But also I was originally gonna be MHA boyos x Twitch Streamer Reader. Buuut Tumblr was cracked and deleted it so. 🧍Also do you want a part 2? Cause if not I’ll make my first fluff HCS for Valentine’s. Requests are open! So go wild

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years ago

Text

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.

OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3

ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so... idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.

Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 -- pls like each part I’m insecure

______________________________________________

~Cassian~

“You’re getting married.”

The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.

He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.

Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.

We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.

Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.

Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.

Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.

And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo--ie. me-- so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.

But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.

I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.

Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.

That leaves... a widow?

The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.

So he must be joking.

I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”

“Volchonok.”

The Wolf Cub.

The cigar snaps in my fingers.

“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.

Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”

“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.

In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.

We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?

“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”

“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.

So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.

Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”

I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.

“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”

His lips twitch. “Ten million.”

“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.

Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin.

Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.

“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.

“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.

“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”

He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.

So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”

It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.

Now I do.

Rhysand--the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place--nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.

“When’s all this happening, anyway?”

He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”

A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.

Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had.

Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.

~Nesta~

“Chto sluchilos?”

I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard.

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.

“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.

I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.

Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.

I still haven’t.

I’m not signing anything until I meet this... Cassian.

God, what an Italian name.

An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain.

I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting.

But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know.

My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.

Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.

I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.

As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.

What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty... colorful early on.

Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.

“Ty vresh',” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying.

“Konechno.” Of course.

Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.

As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.

It would--should--piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.

So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.

Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again.

But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death.

In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman.

My father is an arms-dealer.

A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.

He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy.

He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.

It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t.

I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty.

But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people.

The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.

Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.

Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.

I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly.

I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer.

“Starik,” I tease. Old man.

He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.

The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.

It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.

My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.

We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York.

My new home.

“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.

“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.

His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstatic silence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s... house.

It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.

I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise.

A butler--seriously, a butler--opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.

The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase.

Ridiculous.

One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.

But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes--property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital.

The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait.

One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.

The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I’m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details.

That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.

My fiancé.

Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored.

Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.

For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daring someone to swing at him.

If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.

His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option.

His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room.

His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature.

Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more.

He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush. Jesus, he’s toxic.

He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.

Which is not what I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.

His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.

So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest.

I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name.

Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.

~Cassian~

I think I’m in love.

Fuck.

She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.

Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now.

Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected.

I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello.

But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield.

And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.

She also didn’t say hello.

Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is, but... I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction.

I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.

Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.

Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave.

He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters, “Udachi.” Good luck.

As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys.

He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official.

“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual.

I sigh, because I have a feeling interesting isn’t going to cover it.

_____________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

Tags: @elorcan-trash @januarystears @emikadreams @sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @masstrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acosf countdown #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acosf fanfiction #a court of mist and fury

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onmykneesforhotdilfs · 4 years ago

Note

Oooh i'm gonna with #3 please! And Valtor as a bartender.

He truly loathed his job.

The disgusting smell of cheap drinks spilled on the bar mixed with the stench of sweat and cheap perfume, from grinding bodies on the dancefloor and humping barely-legals in the corner, made him nauseous. The music was loud to the point his heartbeat developed arrhythmia whenever a bass boosted song played through the obnoxious sound system. To make matters worse, one of the speakers was set directly above the bar and Valtor was sick of buying earplugs every week, because if he didn’t use any protection, he’s pretty sure he would go deaf before he hit 40 and he once again cursed himself for forgetting them at home.

A particularly high note came on, and the crowd cheered while Valtor cringed as he felt the microscopic hairs in his ears, sensitive to high notes, shrivel up and die. He rolled his eyes as he spotted a tall blonde dragging taller brunette towards the restroom. Apparently, couples basically dry humping each other on the dancefloor and sucking their faces off in the corners wasn’t enough, so universe also decided to throw in a couple about to commit an indecent act in a public bathroom?

He was just about to call one of the bouncers when it hit him – he doesn’t care. Oh well. What can you do?

A woman, wearing something Valtor could only describe as lingerie, came to the bar and ordered a fruity cocktail and for the umpteenth time, he wondered how his life turned into this? How did he go from graduating on a prestigious college, having a stable job and a fiancée, to wiping down spit from the counter top on a Saturday night.

He used to be a successful attorney, his yearly salary reaching up to five-zero figure, a stable relationships, loving girlfriend and more, and yet, all of that collapsed under the enormous weight couple of words held.

His hands worked on autopilot, mixing the necessary drinks while his thoughts were miles away.

Now, whatever’s left of his past life lives in a small condo across the town and Valtor chuckled at the irony of life giving him lemons while he chopped one to mix it into the cocktail. He squeezed the juice out of the poor fruit, with probably more force than was necessary, getting some of it on his shirt in the process.

“What are you chuckling about?” The woman was leaning over the counter, her chest basically spilling out of her dress as she played with the ends of her dark hair.

Valtor raised an eyebrow as he bent down to retrieve one of the decorative umbrellas. “Nothing that would be of interest to you.” He saw her flinch in surprise at the rather sharp tone he unintentionally used. “Miss.” He added as an afterthought, hoping it would make him look less abrasive. Unhappy customers don’t tip well after all.

“Oh. Well maybe it does interest me. You’ll never know unless you try.” The woman smiled flirtatiously while her fingers continued twirling the strands of her hair. “I’m Mitzi, by the way.” She offered her hand to him.

Valtor only quirked an unamused eyebrow. “I don’t remember asking for your name.” The smile was quick to disappear from her face and she snatched her hand back like it’s been burned.

He closed his eyes as his tongue, once again, proved to be faster than his brain. It’s what got him into trouble a lot of times and this one might’ve just taken a cake because if the girl went to complain to his boss, he’d be in a world of shit. “I was trying to be nice, but it seems to me you’re too much of an asshole to appreciate it.” Mitzi gritted out with obvious false confidence because a fierce blush was very much present on her face. This obviously didn’t happen to her a lot.

First time for everything, Valtor thought.

“What I would really appreciate, Mitzi,” Don’t do it, “is if you could stop your 36C's, that you stuffed into a 34B bra, from spilling all over my counter.” You absolute moron! “I have to wipe it.”

Now you’ve done it.

Mitzi turned even reader, and Valtor wondered if he should start dialing an ambulance just in case, but she only snatched the drink he placed in front of her and threw a 5$ bill in his face. “Jerk!” And just like that, she was gone.

“Have a nice evening!” Drop dead.

He rolled his eyes and took a glass that needed wiping just to occupy his hands for a minute because he felt like a coiled string, just about to snap and burn everything in its path.

“I have to say,” girl’s voice reached him, “you just fixed my evening.” Valtor lowered the glass to the solid surface and turned to face the owner.

His brain short circuited.

Though her body was mostly obstructed by the counter, he could see that the navy blue slip dress she wore draped beautifully across her slender figure. She was also incredibly short that even standing up straight, in what Valtor assumed were ridiculously high heels, she was at least head and a half shorten than him. But the most obvious, and striking thing about her, was her red hair. Valtor never even thought that hair could be as vibrant as hers.

In his almost 35 years of life, Valtor has never seen someone as interesting as the girl standing in front of him.

When he finally shook himself out of his stupor, and when it became painfully obvious he was making her uncomfortable with his gawking (really, there was no other word for it), he smiled and spoke. “Well, I’m pleased to hear that because it will undoubtedly ruin my life.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about her reporting you.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Her ego is too big for her to accept she just got rejected.”

“You know her?”

There was something nostalgic in her smile. “I used to know her… or maybe I just thought I know her.”

Valtor observed the unusual girl in front of him. In his several years as a bartender and even before, he developed quite a knack for reading people. She seemed, to him at least, like one of those lost souls that recently had their world turned upside down but tried despite to appear normal. You and me both. “Would you like something to drink?”

Her head snapped up and her electric blue eyes met his. “Oh! Yes, um,” she fidgeted slightly, her hands wringing together and picking at her nails, “anything with vodka.”

He nodded and turned his back on her to find a bottle of the best vodka the club had to offer. He didn’t know why he suddenly paid so much attention to what he’s mixing into drinks but something pulled him towards this girl like gravity and he was too weak to resist it. “Straight?” He asked without turning around.

“Ummm, that’s a bit personal don’t you think? I mean, I just met you.” Valtor stopped what he was doing and turned his head so she could see the confused frown on his face. “I don’t even know your name. As far as I know you could be a serial killer.”

It downed on Valtor what she was talking about and he chuckled at her adorable rant. “I meant the Vodka.”

Her lips shaped into a silent “O" and he saw how her neck and face turned red from embarrassed. She moaned and buried her face into her hands. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He picked the bottle and turned back around so he was facing her. He extended his unoccupied hand across the counter top. “I’m Valtor.”

She shook his hand, her hand incredibly small in his huge one, blush still present on her cheeks. “Bloom. And yes, straight vodka is fine.”

“I’ve only seen Russians drink vodka by itself.”

“I’m quarter Russian. My mom’s dad is from Russia.” Valtor nodded along as he fixed her a drink.

“Impressive.”

“it’s really not. It only made me the laughing stock of the entire class.” She took the glass filled with clear liquid, their fingers brushing together on accident, and Valtor felt a spark rushing up his nerve endings. “But, I can drink most people under the table so I guess I should be grateful.”

Humor was obviously one of the things she used to deflect the pain and trauma bullying inevitably caused. “Your hair is very… unusual. Natural?”

She nodded. “Yup. This is one of the things I inherited from grandpa.”

“Sorry if that made you uncomfortable, it wasn’t my intention.”

“No no, don’t worry.” Her lips wrapped around the edge of the glass as she took a sip and closed her eyes to savor the feeling of burning liquid sliding down her throat. “It’s actually one of the nicest things someone has said to me about my hair.”

Valtor looked at her with a small smirk on his face. “That bad, huh?”

“You don’t want to know.” Bloom tilted the glass and took a large swing of the drink, only a small amount remaining at the bottom. “What about you?”

Valtor shrugged. “What about me?”

“You have an unusual hair too.”

Indeed. His long strawberry blond hair was tied in a ponytail, but unlike herself, he loved his hair and didn’t particularly give a damn what anybody else thought about it. “I don’t really care about somebody else’s opinion and neither should you.”

“I’ve stopped that long time ago.” Valtor nodded towards her almost empty glass and she slid it towards him for a refill. “But you know, scars remain.”

He nodded. “That I do know.” Valtor saw another guy coming up to the bar so he excused himself. As soon as he moved away from her, the unpleasant sensations that accompany prolonged presence in a loud room came rushing back like a rogue train and Valtor felt the onsets of a headache forming. He served the guy and returned to Bloom who was now nursing her drink instead of knocking it back like the first time.

“So what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

She quirked one eyebrow. “A girl like me?”

“Not to be rude, but this doesn’t seem like your cup of tea.”

She laughed. “It’s my friend’s birthday. She dragged me here against my will while promising she’ll stay with me the entire time. It took me turning around for her to vanish without a trace with her boyfriend.”

“That friend of yours,” he started, “wouldn’t happen to be a tall blonde dragging a brunette with her?”

“That’s her.”

Valtor made a face. “I don’t think you’ll be seeing a lot of her tonight.” His eyes slid to the direction of the restroom.

Bloom followed his gaze and she groaned when she saw where her friend went to. “Not this again.”

“Again? This happens a lot?”

“Unfortunately, it happens more than I would like to.” She rubbed her forehead.

“Right,” he drawled, “because who doesn’t like seeing their friends going at it.” Sarcasm was dripping from his words.

“How long have they been in there?” She asked while looking at her wrist watch.

“Fifteen minutes or so.”

“Damn animals. I’m never coming to the club with her again.”

An amused chuckle escaped him. “That’s not the first time you’ve said that, am I right?”

She smiled and took a sip of vodka. “Nope.”

Just as he opened his mouth to ask her another question, her blonde friend wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Valtor’s eyebrow did a backflip. How she managed to avoid detection while leaving the bathroom was beyond him.

“Damn Bloom, I leave you alone for five minutes and you’re already seducing hot bartenders!”

“Stella! First of all, I am not seducing anybody,” Maybe not intentionally, “secondly, it’s been almost twenty minutes and thirdly, what happened to your promise of not ditching me? And the moment I turn around, you’re already gone?”

Stella, if Valtor heeard correctly, giggled. “Oh live a little Bloom. Besides, it’s not like you were in a bad company.” Her eyes ran over Valtor’s form. “In fact, I wouldn’t mind taking a bite out of that.” She ogled Valtor like a piece of chocolate cake.

“I’m standing right here.”

“Okay, that’s enough for today! We’re going home.” Bloom grabbed her purse and was about to pull out her wallet when Valtor raised his arm to stop her.

“It’s on the house.”

“But Blooooom,” There was really no words to describe the sound that exited blonde’s mouth, “we just got here.”

“The fact that you're talking about having a threesome with a stranger says enough about your state.”

“I’m pretty sure Brandon wouldn’t mind.”

“Okay, time out. Let’s go.” She turned towards Valtor, a small card between her fingers. She leaned over the counter while one of her arms stayed behind, supporting her friend. “Thank you.” She slipped the card into his hand. “Call me if you wanna talk sometimes.” And with that, she spun on her heel and dragged Stella towards the exit.

Valtor stood in shock, not knowing how to react for a few minutes, staring at the business card in his hands.

Bloom Peters MD.

He shook his head, hand safely pocketing the precious cargo before he picked up the glass she’s been drinking from and turning around to wash it. The sound of retching caused him to turn around in time to see some wasted man empty the content of his stomach on an obnoxious red carpet. The stench of vomit mixed with other delightful aromas and Valtor was once again reminded how much he hated his job.

#winx club #baltor x bloom #bloom x baltor #bloom x valtor #sparxshipping #valtor x bloom #bloom #valtor #winx #sparxshipping questions #sparxshipping requests #sparxshipping prompts #sparxshipping au

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marvelouspeterparker · 5 years ago

Text

the perfect touch

pairing: tom holland x touchstarved!reader

summary: you’ve never really had an intimate relationship with anyone before, you’ve never really felt close to anyone either—literally. you rarely let people touch you but you secretly crave affection. what happens when you finally find the one person you want to touch you—tom.

warnings: smut (it gets a bit dirty lmao)

word count: 5.2k

notes: this came to me randomly when i was thinking about my crush so it’s a little personal. it’s how i think i would react to the situation, i’m sorry if you hope to relate to it but can’t :( #touchstarvedgang

give me feedback! :)

Tom knew what was going on inside your head—you made sure to tell him that he was your first boyfriend, that he would be the first to touch you, that you were a little scared but wanting. So he made sure to pay attention to you in case you were too nervous to say what you wanted. He had gotten pretty good at reading you.

Sometimes you would scoot just a little closer to him on the couch, you’d rest your hand on your thigh, right next to his, tapping your fingers anxiously against your leg—he’d take notice and smile to himself before taking your hand in his, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. The first time he’d done it, you swear you forgot how to breathe for a few seconds.

Once, you were practically falling asleep in the back of your uber, your head was practically falling every five seconds but you were forcing yourself to stay up. You would have loved to rest your head on tom’s shoulder but you didn’t want to be annoying and you of all people could understand that sometimes people didn’t want to be touched. You also feared rejection so that was another issue... what if he said no? So you just resorted to letting your head roll around on the headrest as you tried your best not to pass out.

Tom finally noticed when your head snapped up rather sharply at a red light, the abrupt stop making you jolt. He turned to look at you, confused, but his gaze softened once he realized what you were up to.

“Darling, you can rest your head on me if you’d like.”

You immediately shook your head, “no it’s—“

But he interrupted you, “I’m not gonna let you break your neck trying to stay awake,” he looked at you earnestly, “I don’t mind, I swear.”

You just looked at him as he sat back making himself comfortable, before patting his shoulder, “Come on then,” he smiled.

You moved hesitantly and put your head on his shoulder and were a little disappointed when it wasn’t as comfortable as you’d hoped it would be. You tried to move around a bit a couple times but suddenly became very aware of the fact that moving around so much could be very annoying so you stayed in an uncomfortable position, your neck straining as you tried not to put your full weight on him.

He noticed that your body was tense, your posture stiff––so he nudged you a bit. Thinking he wanted you off of him, you got ready to lean against the window when he put a hand on your thigh, asking you to look at him. It took you a second to actually hear what he was saying since you could feel your skin burning under where he was touching.

“No wait, I just-thought you would be more comfortable like this” he said before opening his arm for you to tuck yourself into his chest, giving you a soft smile.

You replied a barely audible “oh” before moving into position again. Now this was way more comfortable—his arm wrapped around you and his hand subconsciously started rubbing up and down your arm, practically lulling you to sleep.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded in response, leaning further into him. Though his exterior was calm and collected, you could feel his heart beating rather fast and you couldn’t help but smile. Tom was very aware of the fact that you could feel and hear his heartbeat, and he may or may not have suggested you move for you to be able to do so. Soon enough, the constant beat was putting you to sleep.

When you woke up something felt different. Your eyes were still closed but you could feel that something had changed. Before you could process anything you felt Tom’s lips press a gentle kiss to your forehead, “we’re almost there, darling.”

You hummed and opened your eyes to look up at him, noticing an almost knowing smile on his face. You were about to reply when you realized you were literally in his lap, your legs over his, his arms caging you protectively. Your eyes widened and you were about to get off of him when his arms tightened, “No, stay.” He held you closer, pressing his cheek to your forehead, “You feel nice.”

Instead of disagreeing, you settled back into your previous position. “How did I even manage to get on top of you?” you mumbled against his shirt.

“You kept shuffling around and putting one of your legs over mine, so I just moved you completely to save you the trouble.”

You cringed at the thought of your restless movements annoying him before he continued, “Was really cute, honestly.”

You felt your cheeks heat up and you tucked your head further into his chest so he wouldn’t see you smile, but you were almost certain that he felt it.

––––

As your relationship progressed, you could feel yourself getting more comfortable with Tom. Being with him felt like a dream, and sometimes you couldn’t believe he was real, that he was really with you––but he knew just how to assure you that he was here and that he wasn’t going anywhere.

You felt his lips glide over your chest, just above the neck line of your shirt—you could have sworn your heart was going to beat out of your chest and the thought that Tom could hear and feel your elevating heart race made it beat even faster.

He looked up at you, his hands caressing your waist, “S’this okay, love?” he asked, a smirk on his face—he knew damn well you were enjoying yourself.

You nodded, licking your lips since suddenly your throat felt dryer than ever. “Really okay” you whispered, your voice raspy. You saw him swallow visibly at the sound of your voice and knowing that you could have that effect on him, boosted your ego just a little.

His hands squeezed your waist slightly and the feeling of his fingertips grasping you had you gasping and squirming in his lap. He bit his lip as he dragged his gaze up and down your body before leaning in again. Instead of just leaving pecks here and there, you sucked in a breath when you felt his tongue swipe across your collarbone. Your eyes rolled back to your head when he bit down softly and you could feel him smile against you.

One of his hands slid up your body, tracing every curve on its path before holding the side of your neck and you physically shivered at his touch. You almost felt embarrassed by your reactions but all that was pushed aside when you felt and heard him groan against you and you felt his bulge growing underneath you.

His lips made their way back up to your neck, kissing and biting at every spot until he found the one that made your back arch into his touch. The movement made you rut against him and you couldn’t help but moan out loud. Shocked at how loud you were, you bit your lip but Tom was quick to pull away, his thumb tracing your lips, “Ah ah, I wanna hear you.” You released your lip and he pressed a chaste kiss to it before turning his attention back to your neck.

“That felt nice, didn’t it?” You hummed an agreement and you felt him smile against your neck. “Why don’t you keep moving your hips like that, then? Wanna make you feel good.”

You were hesitant to do as he said, afraid that the action would make you seem a little desperate, almost like a dog humping something, you thought. But once you started and Tom began moving along with you, the pleasure clouded your doubts.

He growled into your neck and you swear you just about pooled in your underwear, “Just like that, love. Doing so good for me––fuck.”

Aaand yup––definitely have a praise kink, you thought to yourself.

You felt yourself get closer and closer with every movement, every push and pull from Tom’s eager hands guiding you on top of him. Your movements became unsteady as you neared your high and Tom soon took full control of your hips, whispering sweet nothings to you, coaxing you to release.

“Come on princess, let go for me.” He pulled back to look at you after leaving a small kiss on your jaw. “Look so pretty for me, riding my thigh like this.”

You let out a small whimper at his words, you felt like you were on fire.

“Come for me, love.”

Your breath hitched and your body tensed on top of him, your hands gripping at his shoulders and he smiled at you, completely in awe of how incredible you looked. You collapsed onto his chest and his arms were quick to find their way around you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Did so good for me, darling.”

Your heart fluttered at his words––at him. He always knew what to do, what to say.

He wasn’t going to go any further until you explicitly told him you were ready, he was respectful and you couldn’t be more grateful that you found someone as sweet as him. That most definitely deserves a reward, you thought. You were tired of seeing him go to the bathroom to take care of himself after every time you guys did something––or more importantly he did something for you. You felt a little guilty, even though he told assured you it was no problem and he’d do it for as long as he needed to until you were ready.

Before he could run off to the bathroom, you quickly got down on your knees in front of him, putting your hands on both of his thighs as you looked up at him with those innocent eyes of yours and you could have sworn you heard him swallow at the sight of you.

“W--What are you doing?”

You licked your lips, “I wanna help you.”

He brought a hand to your cheek, his thumb softly caressing your skin and you turned your head to kiss his palm before nuzzling further into his touch. “It’s my turn to make you feel good.”

He looked at you earnestly, “You know you don’t have to, right?”

You nodded, “I know,” you smiled, “I really want to, though.” You looked between his eyes and his bulge, biting your lip, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

You looked up at him again once you heard him curse. “Well, how can I say no to my girl?” He pulled down his sweats, then his underwear and you hate to admit it but your mouth may have watered.

He bit his lip as he looked down at you on your knees in front of him, it was an even prettier sight than he had imagined––and trust me he thought about it a lot. He stroked his cock and you licked your lips. “D’you want me to sit or stand, love?”

“Um,” you cleared your throat, “whichever is––more comfortable for you.”

He smiled, taking his seat again. It seemed he was a bit nervous too. He just wanted to make this as enjoyable and comfortable for you as well.

Once he was situated, you took a deep breath and moved closer. “Okay––I just––I might need you to teach me a bit, yeah?” You looked up at him and he tried his best to control his breathing.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” He tried his best to make it seem as though he was totally composed and in control but on the inside he was freaking out, perhaps even more than you. You drove him crazy with just the looks you gave him and the sounds you made...Now that you were actually going to touch him? He was almost certain he’d immediately combust.

You grabbed him at his base and he hissed at the feeling. You paused, eyes wide as you gauged his reaction.

“Sorry, just felt good, that’s all––promise,” he chuckled nervously.

You nodded slowly and shifted your attention back to the task at hand. You noticed the precum pooling at his tip and swirled your thumb around it, spreading it around to make your movements smoother. You guessed it was the right move as Tom’s breathing became heavier from it.

You swirled your hand around until his whole member was slick and he cursed under his breath. “Just like that––don’t even need my help you’re doing so good.”

He tried his best to keep his eyes open but with how good you were making him feel, he couldn’t help but let his eyes flutter shut. But once he felt your tongue swirl around his tip, his eyes blew wide open, ”Holy shit––”

It was your plan the whole time to get your mouth on him, but from his reaction, it seemed that he wasn’t expecting it. You immediately popped off of him, “Oh! I’m sorry I––”

“No no,” he cut you off, leaning forward to kiss you. “I’m sorry love, I just wasn’t expecting that. But um you can, continue,” he laughed, sitting back.

You put your mouth around him, swirling your tongue since you’d heard it felt good (and apparently that was true based on Tom’s reaction) and began to bob your head slowly. Meanwhile, Tom’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, as his hands came up to rest on your head––not to guide your movements but just to feel you.

You started to suck as your movements sped up and that’s when Tom almost lost his mind. His hips were straining not to buck into your mouth––the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

You focused on your breathing and closed your eyes, putting all your effort in to pleasing him. He’d been the perfect boyfriend so far and you finally gathered the courage to actually do something for him. It had to be perfect.

You peeked at him for a moment as you reached a hand up grasp his balls, and you could see it practically sucked a breath of air from him. Soon enough, he was reaching his high.

“Oh god––I’m gonna cum darling.” He tried to move back so he could finish elsewhere but you put a hand on his thigh to stop him and his eyes widened.

“Love I––”

You pulled off of him causing an obscene wet noise but you were too focused on him to be embarrassed. You wiped your hand with the back of your mouth and looked up at him and though the action was sloppy and careless, it made him throb, “I want you to cum in my mouth,” you stated simply before diving back in, your hand pumping the rest of his length that your mouth couldn’t reach. And within seconds, before he could even react, he was shooting his load, muscles tensing as a broken cry escaped his lips.

“F––Fuck darling.”

You pumped him through his high smiled up at him, feeling proud. Once he realized that you swallowed, he chuckled in disbelief, “How did I manage to get the most perfect girl in the world?”

“I’m the one who got the most perfect boy.” You smiled, rolling your eyes and got into the bed as he pulled up his underwear and his sweats. He turned off the lights and made his way over to his side of the bed. He lied on his back and wrapped his arm around you and you settled in comfortably, feeling satisfied with the job you’d done.

He kissed your forehead as you both settled in to sleep. “When you’re ready, I’m gonna return the favor––and I swear I’ll eat you for hours if you’ll let me.”

You closed your eyes and nuzzled into his chest, the biggest smile on your face as you tried your best to calm your heartbeat–-the one in your chest...and the one between your legs.

–––––––

You had been thinking about it since before you started dating Tom––not that you were obsessed with sex or anything but you had always wondered what it would be like your first time, if it would feel good––a whole bunch of stuff, really.

But more recently you had been thinking about it with Tom––you were ready to take that step with him, you were just hoping that your nerves would have calmed down by now.

Here you were, Tom hovering over you and you couldn’t even focus on the pleasure––you were too busy being stuck in your own head, trapped by your own thoughts. Your boyfriend was shirtless on top of you and your anxiety couldn’t even wait for one moment and just let you have this––

Tom, always picking up on your signals, immediately pulled away from you, leaving the mark he was working on to slowly fade away. He looked into your eyes, “What’s wrong?” He moved so that he was sitting up beside you. “You’re not fully here with me, what’s up?”

You sat up, clasping your hands together in your lap. “I just––you know that I’ve never...done anything with anyone,” you paused to look at him, continuing after he gave you a small encouraging smile, his hand resting on your thigh reassuringly, not moving as he didn’t want to make you more nervous and he knew how much his touch gave you butterflies. “I guess I’m a little scared that you won’t like what you see? Or that...I don’t know––this is just a little overwhelming.”

“Well darling, I am one hundred percent certain that I will find you absolutely breathtaking as soon as you take your clothes off, given the fact that you take my breath away fully clothed, already.” He chuckled before looking at you seriously and sincerely, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to today. You know that, right?”

You perked up immediately, “No no, Tom I’m sure that I want to do this with you,” you leaned in to give him a quick peck on the lips. “I really do...”

You took a deep breath and stood up before peeling your sweats off. You heard Tom’s breathing slow down as you stepped out of them. You looked up at him and saw that his eyes were glued to your thighs, his lips parted. You started dating in the fall, and it was still winter, so he hadn’t even seen you in shorts yet.

You bit your lip before and peeled your shirt off, leaving you in just your bra and panties. Seeming to snap himself out of his trance, Tom stood up as well.

“Seems only fair,” he smiled, pulling his sweats down. He stepped close to you and you looked up at him, feeling goosebumps rise on your skin. “Can I?” He asked, gesturing to your undergarments.

You nodded, swallowing thickly before turning around. You could feel his breath fanning your neck and jolted slightly when you felt him press a wet kiss to your neck. His hands came up to your waist, his fingers caressing you softly before reaching up and unclasping your bra. He pushed the straps down your arms and you gasped slightly as the cold air hit you, your nipples hardening immediately.

You heard and felt his breath hitch behind you. His hands came up around you, feeling and squeezing your breasts, “You’re gorgeous.”

You turned around and leaned up to kiss him, his hands found their place on your ass and you moaned breathlessly into his lips. He broke the kiss reluctantly and got down on his knees in front of you. He looked up at you, leaving kisses on your stomach and you stopped breathing for a minute––he just looked so enticing, so lustful for you.

His hands caressed your thighs, moving up slowly before reaching the waistline of your panties. Carefully, not moving his eyes from yours, he slid them down your legs, leaving soft kisses as you stepped out of them. He quickly stood up and rid himself of his own underwear before leaning in to kiss you again.

“Let’s get on the bed, yeah?” You nodded into the kiss and moved backward until you hit the bed. You dropped down onto it and moved into the middle, Tom hovered on top of you, resuming his position from the start.

He looked into your eyes, his hand gently holding your cheek “You ready, baby?”

You nuzzled into his touch and nodded, “Yes, promise.”

He muttered a soft okay before kissing you on the lips again, then began trailing his lips down your body ever so softly. He kissed between your breasts, while grasping them both in his hands. Your back arched at his touch and you felt him smile into your chest.

His lips trailed down even further, until he reached under your belly button. He looked up at you and spread your legs, before finally looking down. “Can I finally taste you, sweetheart? Is that okay with you? You just look so beautiful I’m dying to get a taste.”

You nodded, and he smiled up at you. He kissed your thigh, making sure to keep eye contact with you. All you could focus on was each other––the whole world drowned out around the both of you. He slowly, teasingly made his way up to your inner thigh, then skipping his way over to the other thigh, still looking at you while doing so.

He nipped your skin softly and you gasped at the feeling. You reached your hands down and placed them on his own, and he clasped your hands together before holding your waist down with his arms. He leaned in and licked along your slit. You weren’t sure what to expect, but with all the teasing and build up, just the slightest touch felt great.

He curved his tongue up and down along your folds, soon leaving open mouthed kisses on your lips. You sighed contently and he hummed into your heat, only adding to your pleasure.

Tom had picked up on your reaction to his praise, so he made sure to use it to his advantage, to make this as enjoyable for you as can be.

“Y’taste so fucking good baby,” he mumbled in between his kisses and licks. You whimpered, your back arching, hips straining under his hold. “Meant it when I said I would taste you for hours. But I know you have other plans for today, so I’ll leave that for some other day.”

He slid a finger into you and you let out a sound you couldn’t even describe if you wanted to, all you know is that it caused Tom to quicken his pace and tighten his hold on you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head but a squeeze of your hand brought your attention to the boy between your legs. “Eyes on me, love.” You nodded enthusiastically and he smirked at your increased eagerness.

He started paying extra attention to your clit, lapping at it before sucking it harshly, and sliding another finger into your heat. He curved them at just the right spot and soon enough you felt yourself reaching your peak. Your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth dropped open and your thighs tightened around Tom’s head.

When you came to and finally opened your eyes, Tom was leaving kisses around your heat, his hands no longer in yours but caressing all the skin he could touch.

“Such a good girl for me.”

You moaned involuntarily and he chuckled at your reaction, his hands still rubbing your skin soothingly as you were still slightly shaking from your orgasm.

“How was that princess?” He smirked, knowing damn well it was mind-blowing.

You rolled your eyes, unable to wipe the smile off of your face, “Get up here and kiss me, Holland.”

He was quick to scramble up and meet your lips with his and your hand found it’s place in his curls. You easily got lost in each other, and you could taste yourself on his lips and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on even more.

Just as Tom slipped his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands slipped down to find your clit. You whined into the kiss, still a bit sensitive from your high.

He pulled away to look at you, biting his lip. “Just one more, love.” He pressed his head against yours as you panted at the feeling of his fingers expertly handling your bundle of nerves. “Need at least one more to make sure you’re ready for my cock.”

You audibly groaned at his words and he slid his two fingers back in you, twisting them and curling them just right before adding another finger and stretching you open.

Once his thumb reached up to rub at your clit––you were seeing stars. Your hand dropped down, your body going limp. Tom kissed your cheeks softly, coaxing you down.

Once you opened your eyes again, Tom asked, “are you still up for more?”

You couldn’t have nodded more eagerly.

He positioned himself between your legs and you noticed his throbbing member standing tall. You could tell he actually enjoyed pleasuring you––How could he get any more perfect?

He stroked his member a few times, cursing under his breath and dropping his head back after finally paying attention to his neglected member––not that he was complaining. You swear your mouth practically watered at the sight. When he regained his composure, he looked at you, checking if you were still alright then down to your center.

He swiped his member through your folds and hissed, “Holy shit you’re so wet, love.” He licked his lips, rubbing your clit with his tip, making you arch your back. “Gonna be so warm and tight for me.” His thumb was rubbing circles on your inner thigh, trying to calm any nerves you might have.

He rubbed your wetness all around your pussy, on your clit––the slightest touch had you jolting. But you needed more.

“Tommy,” he perked up at the new nickname. To be honest, you had been saving it for when the two of you were intimate––you felt that it was too personal to be said otherwise. “I need more, baby. Need you.”

His eyes widened and his heart rate quickened, “Of course, darling.” He pressed his tip into your entrance and your breath hitched. “Breathe for me, love. Need you to relax.”

You nodded and tried to even out your breathing, sink into the sheets so you could be ready for him. He slowly pushed his way in a little further, waiting for you to let him know when he could move.

You felt like it was taking you forever to adjust, was it annoying or frustrating for him? It was for you, that’s for sure. After beating yourself up in your head for a moment you spoke up, “I’m sorry this is taking so long, Tom. I––I don’t know what to do...”

His brows furrowed, “Hey hey, no no no, this isn’t something you have to be sorry for, this is completely natural, love.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead, careful not to move down there. “I will wait as long as you need, I promise.”

You smiled, but he could tell you were still worried. He brought his thumb to your clit and started rubbing it slowly, spreading your wetness and you felt yourself start to melt in the sheets. He leaned forward, resting his weight on one hand near your head, while the other held his member.

He left wet kisses on your neck, leaving marks where he could reach. “Feel so good for me already, you know that? You’re so snug and tight, s’like your pussy was made for my cock.” He looked into your eyes “You’re mine.”

Your walls clenched around him and he almost choked on his breath. Your hands grasped his shoulders, and your legs wrapped around his waist, pushing him further inside you. “God love––you’ll be the death of me I swear.”

You were almost there, almost completely filled and you were so eager to get there. Tom could tell you were yearning for it. He looked at you before leaning down to swirl his tongue around your nipple before sucking on it and you groaned loudly. “Fuck Tommy––”

“That’s what I like to hear, baby,” he switched to your other breast, making sure to pay equal attention to both. From the stimulation on your nipples and your clit, you loosened up a bit more and pulled Tom in all the way. He popped off of your chest to look at you, mouth hung open in shock. He caught his breath after a moment, “Feels so good––”

It took you a few more minutes, but soon you were ready for him to move. And once he did, you felt better than you thought you would. “Please don’t stop, Tommy.” You whispered in his ear and he growled and dropped his head into the crook your neck where he began leaving wet kisses as he thrusted faster.

“This pussy feels like heaven, I swear,” he muttered half to himself.

Between the feeling of his lips, his hand and his cock––you felt yourself get close rather quickly, in your opinion. “I’m gonna come, baby.” You looked up at him as he pulled away from your neck to look down at you. He leaned his forehead against yours, the both of you panting at the overwhelming feeling of pleasure.

“Yeah, darling?” You nodded helplessly. “I’m close too––as soon as I pushed myself in that tight little pussy of yours it was practically coaxing me to the edge.

He started pounding you faster, constantly checking to see if you were okay with the pace and the feeling. Your eyes rolled back and your back arched for who knows what time that night. “Oh my god Tom––”

“That’s it babygirl––fuck.”

He was about to pull out when you held him in place, “I’m on the pill, Tommy.” He looked into your eyes, trying to figure out if you were really telling him what he was thinking or if he was just clouded by the pleasure you were giving him. “You can come inside me, baby. I want you to. ”

He came almost instantly, if it wasn’t obvious that you found it incredibly hot, he would have found it almost pathetic. A couple more thrusts and he emptied himself out inside of you. You sighed contently and bit your lip, trying to contain your beaming smile as you looked up at him and the fucked out look on his face––beyond happy that you were the reason that it was there.

“You, my love, are the best thing that’s ever and will ever happen to me.” You felt your eyes tear up a bit at his confession but before you could say anything––not that you even know what you could have said, he pulled out of you and watched the cum drip out of your hole before taking his cock and thrusting it back into you, “Don’t want it to slip out just yet. Y’look so pretty full of my come, you know that?” He nuzzled his nose into your cheek.

You swear only Tom could make a moment both incredibly dirty yet touching. He was yours. Your perfect boy.

––––––––––––––

taglist:

@rmillerartemis @hollandmcu @buckyliciouss @tiny-friggin-human @tomshufflepuff @amagicalpieceofshit @peachllobotomy @delicately-written @parkersvibes @musiclover1263 @undiadeestos @fanficscuziranout

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland x touchstarved!reader

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dykeninthdoctor · 4 years ago

Text

“ironhusbands, pre relationship, focusing on them in their first year of college and being like rhodey really realizing how young tony is” and “sweater sharing”

“Have you heard–“

“Did you see–“

“He went to Rob’s party–“

The whispers are carried to him on the wind, full of rumors, sometimes lies, sometimes truths.

Jim doesn’t care. He knows Tony Stark–the heir to the Stark empire, son of the legend, Howard Stark–is on campus, but he doesn’t care.

There’s no reason for him to.

The kid is 16, apparently, a prodigy for his age, which Jim could’ve guessed, and he gives zero shits about his education.

Jim hasn’t heard anything about the kid going to classes; only about parties, and girls, and sometimes, the whispers mention boys, too. They call Stark a charmer, a slut, a flirt, and worse.

Maybe Jim cares a little bit.

Stark is 16, and he already has a reputation, one that scares Jim.

“Oh my God, did you see how much he drank last night?” a girl says, eyes wide in a mockery of surprise.

“He never seems like he’s drunk, though,” her friend says.

Jim frowns.

“Maybe it runs in the family,” the first girl teases, and then they’re both laughing, walking in the other direction.

Jim frowns harder.

He goes to a party the next chance he gets.

Stark is there, in the center of it all, holding court like a prince standing on the backs of his adoring subjects. He’s sprawled across a sofa, legs draped across the lap of a girl whose hand is resting on the inside of his thigh, head in the lap of another girl whose lips are staining marks of red across his jaw.

Stark’s eyes are glazed, the smile he wears is taped on, and Jim realizes with a sinking feeling that it’s all a mask. A mask hastily built, a mask with cracks that Stark uses alcohol to fill, so that no one can see the emotions behind it.

Jim doesn’t know how, or why, but he can.

“A toast,” Stark slurs, raising the plastic cup in his hand, “To dear ol’ dad, who sent me to this lovely institution.”

A cheer goes up around the room.

Stark drinks.

Jim’s moving before he realizes, shoving his way past people, fighting to get to Stark, snapping sharply, “C’mon, Tony, let’s go.”

To his surprise, and fear, Stark gets up and takes his hand without second thought. Jim tries not to think about why.

When he takes Stark outside, the kid–because God, he’s just a kid–looks up at him with a raised brow and a smirk made of plaster. “We’re gonna do it outside? You’re into exhibitionist shit, huh?”

And then he’s on his knees in front of Jim, and Jim’s trying not to throw up.

“No–shit, no, please stand up, Stark–“

“What?”

It’s the confusion in his voice that finally does it, and Jim’s retching into the bushes that line the house behind them, coughing up bile.

He hears the clumsy motions of Stark getting to his feet, feels a small but calloused hand on his back, sees Stark’s face–eyes wide, lips parted in a small o, the face of a kid–and then throws up more bile onto the leaves.

“I’m sorry?” Stark offers quietly, and it’s so different from the brassy, loud, slurred voice of the prince Jim saw only minutes ago.

“How old are you?” Jim asks. It’s not what he meant to say, but as Stark’s eyes go a little wider, he knows he needs to know the answer, because it’s not 16.

“I’m almost 15.”

Jim tries not to throw up again.

He takes Stark back to his dorm, with its single bed and tiny cork board with pictures of Momma Robbie and Jeanie tacked up, with the single poster of a galaxy taped to his wall and the precarious stack of textbooks on his desk.

Stark drowns in his clothes, the knitted sweatshirt hanging off his shoulder, revealing a collarbone littered with hickeys, the sweatpants hanging low on his hips, showing bruises the shape of fingers pressed into tan skin.

“Why?”

The question rings out in the silent room.

“Why what?”

“Why are you being…like this?”

“Because you need this,” Jim says.

Stark just looks at him, his chest rising and falling with exaggerated slow breaths, his eyes blinking slowly, his hands clenched in fists at his sides.

“C’mon, get in bed.”

When Stark doesn’t move, Jim freezes.

“No, Stark–not like that. I’m not gonna do anything with you–to you. We’re not doing anything. You deserve a safe place to sleep. I’m gonna do homework, okay?”

“Okay,” Stark says quietly.

When he falls asleep, curled around the only pillow in Jim’s bed, he looks even younger.

Jim makes himself a promise.

A promise to protect Stark.

The next day, when he wakes up with his face pressed to the pages of his physics textbook, and his bed rumpled but empty, he realizes protection is not what Stark wants.

Too bad, Jim thinks. Too fucking bad.

It’s harder than he thinks to find Stark; even if the kid doesn’t attend classes, there aren’t parties during the day.

The whispers don’t tell him anything, and today, they’re about him.

“He went home with him, just like that–“

“Have you see him around before?”

“Stark just listened to him–“

Jim ignores them.

He goes to his classes, he takes notes, he tries to focus.

He also thinks about where Stark might be hiding.

He doesn’t have to think too hard; Stark’s sitting in his dorm when he gets back after his 5:00 lecture.

The door was locked, but Stark didn’t seem to have any difficulty with that.

“Hi,” Stark says.

“What the fuck,” Jim says back.

Stark shrugs. “You were nice to me. What do you want for it? Money? A reputation boost? We can pretend to fuck, if you don’t want to for real, just so that people think you got some.”

“What do I want for it?” Jim repeats.

“Yeah, payment.”

“I don’t want anything.”

“C’mon, everyone wants something,” Stark says, and the way his eyes avoid Jim’s, despite his casual pose and even more casual tone, tells Jim that he’s scared.

“I don’t want anything, Stark.”

It’s a lie; he wants to know who hurt Stark, he wants to give Stark a hug, he wants to protect Stark.

He also wants Stark to let him out of choice, rather than obligation.

“Okay,” Stark says.

Okay, Jim thinks.

What he says is, “You can stay while I do my homework, if you want.”

“I talk a lot,” Stark tells him. “I’ll bother you.”

“I have a little sister, you can’t be worse than her.”

“Oh.”

So Stark stays.

“What’s your name?”

“Jim.”

“Oh, that won’t do at all. What’s the rest of it?”

“James Rupert Rhodes?”

“Rupert?”

“Don’t start with me, Stark–“

“Tony. My name’s Tony.”

“And my name’s Jim.”

“Not anymore, it’s not. You’re Rhodey now.”

“What are you doing?”

“Physics.”

“No shit, Sherlock, I meant the equation. You calculated wrong.”

“I did not.”

“Put it in the calculator, it’s not 6.78, it’s 6.57.”

“You did that in your head?”

“I’m not just a pretty face.”

“How old’s your sister?”

“She’s 10, but she’s 7 in that picture.”

“That’s your mom?”

“Yeah, I took that picture of them at the lake near our house.”

“She…she looks nice.”

“She’d like you.”

“What’s your major?”

“Aerospace Engineering, so yeah, I’m a rocket scientist.”

“Damn, how’d you know what I was gonna say?”

“You’re predictable, Tones.”

“Tones?”

“Well, if you’re allowed to give me a nickname, shouldn’t the favor be returned?”

“I…yeah.”

So Jim becomes Rhodey, and Stark becomes Tony, and sometimes Tones.

Rhodey realizes a few months in that Tony doesn’t need protection.

Tony knows how to protect himself, with a sharp quip or an even sharper smile.

What Tony needs is love.

So Rhodey makes a new promise.

After Rhodey has to drag Tony out of another party, after slurred words become quiet apologies, after Tony falls asleep in his bed again, Rhodey calls his momma.

She tells him to bring Tony home for Christmas break.

In Rhodey’s eyes, Tony’s never looked more alive than when Momma Robbie convinced him to play Scrabble with her and Jeanie.

“That boy needs love, James,” Momma Robbie tells him, a mug of tea cradled in her hands.

“I know, momma.”

“You gonna make sure he gets it?”

“Pretty sure I already am.”

When the clock strikes twelve on New Years, Tony tries to kiss him.

They’re on the roof, the stars above them reflecting in Tony’s eyes, and Tony tries to kiss him.

“No, Tones,” Rhodey says softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I love you.”

“Just not like that?”

Tony’s voice is broken glass, slowly tearing Rhodey’s heart to pieces.

The lie is a knife to the chest.

“Just not like that.”

Tony nods quietly.

They don’t share a bed that night.

When they get back from break, after a silent car ride, Tony asks suddenly, “Wanna see my workshop?”

It would’ve been simpler to ask if Rhodey wanted to see his heart.

There’s no other to answer to give than yes.

It’s a beautiful mess of chaos, the only description befitting the place where Tony breathes life into wires and gears and lines of numbers.

Rhodey doesn’t know what to say other than, “Thank you, Tones.”

Tony hugs him for an hour, and then spends three more showing him each idea, and then uses another two to get lost in a new project.

Rhodey realizes that this is where Tony truly comes alive.

He’s a kid in a candy store, a bird taking flight, a genius at work.

And he’s beautiful.

The knife, the lie, digs harder into Rhodey’s chest.

Tony has bad weeks, and worse weeks, where Rhodey doesn’t see him for days, but it’s okay.

It’s okay, because Tony always comes back.

Rhodey learns about Howard during a bad week, and about Jarvis on a good one.

He learns about Maria on a good week, and about Ana on a bad one.

Tony brings him pieces, and Rhodey starts to build the puzzle.

Some pieces are missing, and will probably always be missing, but it’s okay.

Rhodey will love him no matter what.

And slowly, Tony is starting to believe that. Rhodey can see it in his eyes, in the way his mask comes off, in the way the cracks become windows for Rhodey to look through.

The summer is long. Tony calls him some weeks, emails other weeks, doesn’t talk at all for most of them.

The worst part is not knowing if he’s okay.

But Rhodey takes what he can get, and gives as much as Tony will take.

When they get back to school, there are fresh bruises on Tony’s arms. Rhodey gives him a new sweater from Momma Robbie and Tony wears it like its armor.

They get a dorm together, officially, and most nights, Tony ends up in Rhodey’s bed, in Rhodey’s arms.

Watching him wake up is the best part of Rhodey’s day.

It’s hard, to keep lying, but Tony’s still just a kid, and Rhodey won’t be another person to use him.

So he loves him in the ways he can, and it’s enough, because it has to be.

The whispers are constant, always talking about them, but this time, Rhodey truly doesn’t care.

He knows better than the lies they spread.

“Rhodey–Rhodey, wake up,” Tony whispers against his chest.

Rhodey grunts. “‘m sleeping.”

“It’s raining.”

“So?”

“I wanna go outside.”

It’s the look in his eyes that does it, the wonder. Rhodey’s on his feet before he even realizes it. “Okay, Tones.”

They dance in the rain on the roof, and Tony laughs, and Rhodey looks at him, and sees nothing but happiness, and feels nothing but love.

Rhodey kisses Tony on his 18th birthday.

Maybe it’s wrong, but the way Tony laughs against his lips and twines his arms around his neck is nothing but right.

“I thought–“

“I lied, genius, I had to,” Rhodey whispers, ready to let go, but Tony just holds him tighter.

“Thank you.”

“For lying?”

“For loving me the way I needed.”

#uhhhh yeah this was WAY longer than i expected but.#tony being so so so young and rhodey REALIZING that? yeah. i went fucking rabid with this prompt oops #anyway i'm pretty proud of this :D #tony stark #james rhodey rhodes #iron man #war machine #rhodeytony #ironhusbands #ironhusbands drabble #tony stark drabble #i hATE tagging #mcu #marvel #aven.writing

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wolf-and-bard · 4 years ago

Text

Proper Procedures for Wooing Witches

for @littoraly-art because you are amazing and I already said this, but I hope you have an awesome birthday <3

Pairing: Yennefer/Jaskier

Word Count: ~2.2k

Rating: T, some explicit language

„My darling Yennefer,“ Jaskier calls out as he swoops into his Oxenfurt apartment with a flat carton wedged under his arm. It already nicked the lavender mesh overlay of his newest doublet, but for once, he absolutely cannot be bothered by that. It’s too nice of a day. “Hello?” He kicks off his shoes.

High noon’s just gone by and Jaskier doesn’t expect Yen to be up yet – which means she will hex his ass if he wakes her. His giddiness outweighs his fears though, heart warming, as he takes in the cluttered entryway. Several pairs of shoes are strewn about, his and hers mixing on the ground. Yen’s all look like they could double as a lethal weapon and are some variation of black and white (though one pair is tinged brown from blood that crusts the bottom, he doesn’t want to know). It’s awfully domestic, a product of the temporary living situation they are in.

When Yen requested to use his rooms for a week or so, she explicitly asked for Jaskier not to be there, but, well, he is weak, he wants her, he couldn’t have stayed away if he tried. Yen’s been snippy from the moment he welcomed her with open arms and the prospect of sharing a bedroom, snippy to the point of grumpiness. That’s fair, Jaskier supposes. It’s also fair that she slips out at the most random times of day, coming back only when Jaskier’s gone to the academy for lectures or the pub for drinks with his colleagues. All fair and good. He catches her about once a day which is more than he can say for most of the year. Fair, yes. Nice, even though Yen is rarely, if at all, impressed with his affection for her. A bard can dream.

“Yenny,” he shouts again and whistles to himself as he slides through to the main room. To his surprise, she lounges at his dinner table by the window, one hand curled around a steaming mug, the other holding up one of his most beloved poetry collections (not only because he wrote several of the entries). Her hair falls in rich raven curls that cover her chest, barely concealed by the sheer black dressing gown she wears. It’s the only thing she wears, Jaskier notices, gulping heavily. Yen doesn’t look up from her reading, her lips are pursed and her tone clipped as she replies.

“For every time you call me that, bard, your balls will grow the tiniest fraction until, one day, they will explode, never to grow back.”

Jaskier considers it. Directs his attention downward. They do feel a bit strange, don’t they? But that’s only because he’s thinking about them. Right.

“I shall not be fooled,” Jaskier says, grinning. “But if you so insist, ‘beloved’ will do just as well. I brought you a gift.” Brushing past his dusty bookshelves and cluttered desk, he struts towards the table and drops the carton on it. It lands with a thud and swirls up more dust – how is it this dusty already, Jaskier could swear he cleaned the place, like, last month?

Yen licks her finger to turn the page which makes Jaskier laugh out loud. He rounds the table to glance over her shoulder, but immediately has to retch. There, catching Yen’s precise attention, is Valdo’s vomit-inducing sonnet about his first time taking a tumble with what Jaskier assumes was a professional. It has to be, no self-respecting person would bed the man free of his coin. Jaskier makes a mental note to spread another rumour about Valdo and various sexual diseases, then plucks the book from her hands and lets it drop to the table. She sighs softly under her breath and allows him to put a hand on her shoulder. Is that… does she lean into him? The tiniest bit? Oh, dear.

“That better not be a dress,” Yen says, reaching out. Her fingertips trace the edge of the carton as if she’s in deep debate on whether to pop it open. This is a game they’ve been playing excessively, him bringing her gifts, her making a show of whether to accept them or not. On the few occasions that Yen invites him for a drink or gives the acoustic properties of his lute a small magical boost, Jaskier fails to reciprocate her cool attitude. He’s too in love to feign indifference and it’s not like she would believe him either.

“If we’re using dress in terms of the precise cut it implies then no, no dress,” he replies, thumb rubbing her skin through the slippery material of the gown mostly to work through the tightness in his throat. It hurts sometimes because this farce makes him think she doesn’t want him. Hell, most things Yen does are aimed at making him think she doesn’t want him. But then there are fractions of admittance like this, like when her gravity shifts towards him or he finds her in his rooms, barely dressed, that make him think there might be more there. Jaskier simply has to practice patience.

“Julian, do I seem like a woman easily impressed with shallow gifts of clothes? In case you hadn’t noticed, I have a very particular style.”

“Oh, I noticed. Trust me, Yenny, you are very much one of a kind,” he replies, mesmerized by her fingers dancing on the cardboard. She loses no time in jabbing back.

“And yet you revert to common courting techniques? That’s pathetic and you know it.”

“Bold of you to assume I am courting you.”

“Bold of you to claim you are not. If I remember correctly, the last time Geralt was with us you got drunk off your ass and asked him for his permission to woo me. Which was sweet but not at all his place to allow. Then you continued to exert yourself into my life on every possible occasion with flowers and picnics and awful love songs. How else am I going to interpret all this?” Yen asks, craning her neck to look up at him from under dark lashes. Gods, she is gorgeous.

“Touché. But do not think I would waste the efforts of my best tailor on just anyone. This is advanced courting, dear.”

“I fail to see its distinguishing qualities.”

“The difference is that these clothes are hardly a gift and more a means to an end.” Jaskier winks which has her eyes narrow, fall back to the carton.

“You want to take me somewhere” Yen asks and, of course, she untangles his intentions immediately.

“Not just somewhere. My cousin’s forwarded me an invitation to a ball put on by some countryside nobleman or other. His work keeps him in Kerack so I’m to go in his stead. That is to say, I’d hoped you would go dancing with me.”

Yen looks up once more and Jaskier starts a little. He will never get used to the vibrance of her violet eyes, how they see through him. Once, she said it took no effort at all to pick at his thoughts, that she always feels as though he’s screaming them right at her. So, he does.

Please, he thinks, mouth twitching into a soft smile. Please, just this once. It would mean the world to me.

Yen huffs a small laugh and shakes her head, then draws the box towards her. Inside, she finds a slim-cut blouse made from the finest black cotton in the city, complete with white lace trim down the front and flaring out at the cuffs and collar. With it, Jaskier had the tailor make a white corset belt and a pair of deep black pants that have applications of the same lace. It would look precarious, almost edgy, on anyone else, but on Yen… the thought alone makes Jaskier’s chest tighten with adoration.

“Jules, this is beautiful,” Yen murmurs as her fingers trace the line of the seams on the blouse. Jaskier puts his other hand to her shoulder and holds on for dear life as his ear twitches. Was that? Did she just? Oh, how he itches to make a quip about the nickname. Because it’s funny, yes, but it also gives him palpitations. He feels like a lovesick puppy trying to befriend a wild cat. Which also means that any violation of trust can ruin what they have. It’s just so fucking precious, this whole affair, and if he were on the outside of it, he would squeal in delight and write a whole novel about it. He still might.

“I’m glad you like it. And it will look absolutely stunning on you. You will look stunning in it. Ah, not implying that you don’t usually look stunning. What I am saying is, the other attendees will be stunned.”

“You’re ridiculous… and stupid too. Are you certain you want to take me to the ball? I’m not exactly popular with the local nobility.”

“Quite the tragedy,” Jaskier says and because he feels daring, he bends down and kisses the top of her head. Then, he saunters over to the stove, pours himself a mug of tea and takes the seat next to her. “And yes, I am certain. In fact, there is nothing I’d love more. Let the people talk.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Yen says on another sigh. “Not about what they say or think or do.”

“Which is part of what makes you so damn sexy.”

Yen rolls her eyes and folds the clothes back into the carton.

“These are lovely, but I will not wear them to the dance,” Yen says. Which means she will go with him at least. It’s not enough, Jaskier is dying to see her wear what he picked out, dying to show the world that such a brilliant woman would choose to spend the evening with him. Most of all, he wants to make her happy. “Trust me on this. You have a reputation to worry about and bringing me along already risks that. Bringing me along in that can and will mess with your career.”

“Trust me, when I say that it won’t matter. I’m already famous and folk love to gossip about famous people. Probably more than they love my songs. I could imagine worse truths to be spread about me. Besides, didn’t you just say you don’t care what people think about you? Why then would you worry about what people think about me?”

"Well I never," she says, but her lips soften into a smile and her hand rises to fiddle with her pendant. Jaskier gently pries it off and brings her knuckles to his lips.

"I don't care either," he whispers. "I just want to go dancing with you."

"I'll portal to my rooms in Kaedwen and get one of my old dresses.” Her face is all smiles, but an edge has stolen into her voice which makes her sound forlorn, sad even, and her eyes flicker over to the folded clothes in the box. Jaskier’s throat tightens.

"Why are you so stubborn? It’s obvious you want to wear them. You don’t need to start giving a fuck now.”

"I'm trying to do something for you here, Julian. I don't usually go out of my way to attend stuck-up parties with peacocks such as yourself."

“Please,” Jaskier says. He still holds her hands in both of his and because he has no shame, and because this really does mean the world to him, he sinks off his chair and onto his knees before her legs. Yen’s eyes widen a fraction. “For me.”

-----

They dance. Oh, how they dance. Jaskier always considered himself a great dancer, he has music in his veins and has flirted and whirled his way through every ball room and banquet hall on the Continent, and it’s clear that Yen is no stranger to this art either. They are exuberant, relentless, they laugh and pirouette and demand their ground, much to the detriment of those with lesser skills. The lack of a dress doesn’t subtract from their flair, if anything, it allows for a broader range of motion

"The only way we could draw more eyes is if we'd brought Geralt along,” Yen giggles. Fuck. She’s so carefree it brings tears to Jaskier’s eyes.

"Gods no," he laughs. "He would ruin all the fun with his growling and brooding. If you're looking for more attention however..."

"Jules-"

Jaskier twirls her and, in that motion, catches her around the waist and dips her low, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips which are parted on a yelp. Before he can tug her up again, her hands come forward to cup his face and she presses into him, grins into the kiss.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous,” she whispers.

“Admit it,” Jaskier drawls as he brings her back upright and they fall into an easy basic waltz, closer to each other than the dance strictly necessitates. “You love me.”

“That is awfully presumptuous of you.” But she laughs, and kisses his cheek, and Jaskier thinks that maybe one day, she will. “Don’t bet on it, bard.”

#the witcher #witcher #jaskier #yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #yennefer x jaskier #yenskier #I'll reblog with ao3 link later #ficlet #my writing #fluff

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aestheticsuwu · 4 years ago

Text

When Our Eyes Met

Robby Keene x Doug Rickenberger

A Huge thank you to @oceluna , for giving me the boost I needed to upload this new ship !

We are blessed for having this beautiful human (@oceluna ) being for giving us a part of their time to create wonderful LawRusso content and other ships !💖😊

( Binary Boyfriends + SamxMiguel + Lawrusso ) Part 3

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

He should've know having Sam and Demetri as friends would only cause him trouble . Now he's being forced on a date but he didn't even know who Hawk would set him up .

For all he knows Hawk would pick a random stranger , why did he think that life would go easy on him . He really can't catch a break , okay maybe he's exaggerating a little bit .

He thinks he's allowed to be dramatic , atleast they had already decided what Demetri was going to wear , black flannel shirt with a white shirt underneath and some skinny jeans .

Heading out to go home to change as well , but not before assuring Demetri that everything would turn out fine . Hawk was in love with Demetri ass and well , vice versa .

....

He went to the kitchen to grab something to drink , his dad was there serving a cup of juice . Quickly going to cupboard and handing over the glass to his dad .

" Me and Daniel are going to watch a movie later , order some pizza wanna join . "

" I would love to dad but I got a date . "

" is she hot ? "

" Is actually a blind date . "

" She's blind ? " His dad had a funny look as he was confused , Dad L came in laughing along with Robby .

" John the person isn't blind , it just means both people don't know what they look like . Robby be safe , i want the 3 of you back at 10 "

"you got it , dad . "

Hugging his Dad L , before leaving to go change .

Johnny makes sure the coast is clear before pining Daniel against the counter .

" Guess we're having the house to ourselves , I was thinking having you in nothing but my shirt -

" Laying down in bed , just waiting for you to join me "

" mhmm " The blonde puts his hand on Daniels ass , he really had the best ass . Daniel arms holds on to his neck , as he pulls him in more closer . He leans in to kiss him .

" for us to talk about our lovely deep emotions . "

Daniel laughs at the face the blond has , he couldn't help it . He gives kiss on the cheek before leaving , with Johnny behind him .

" You really know how to kill a boner , Bambi. "

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

One of the things he and his dad have in common was that they really didn't know how to receive compliments . Here he was blushing and not knowing what to say as Sam and Demetri kept talking .

" Damn Robby , lookin mighty fine ! . "

" So handsome and those jeans , right Demetri ? "

" Agreed that ass is out of this world . "

" Shut up ! "

He quickly shouted as he got to the front seat , He quickly look one last time in the mirror of the car , while waiting for Sam and Demetri to get in . Pep talks were thrown , mainly for Demetri . Arriving , looking through the open glass window , they could see Hawks purple Mohawk , Miguels waving , and a taller boy .

" Hey guys " Miguel came over as the other two stayed back . He stood next to Demetri to reassure him everything was alright . It looked like hawk and his friend were fighting , until the two quickly came over .

" Everything okay ? " Demetri questioned Hawk , gosh Hawk wasn't subtle about his feelings for his best friend with that stare or gaze whatever you want to call it .

" Yeah , perfect ! Robby this is Doug Rickenberger , Doug this is Robby Keene shall we go in . "

They both incline their heads to each other for acknowledgment. Doug was way taller than him and his broad shoulders didn't help Robbys height . He was wearing a Red shortsleve shirt , black jeans and some vans .

They were seated down, everyone was at the table with their individual date . The tables weren't together but enough distance where they all could hear each other . And it was awkward and quiet at first . Sam and Miguel tried to ease the moment , but it was clear him and Doug wish their were somewhere else but here .

It wasn't their first time seeing each other but their encounters were brief. He had seen the tall boy with Hawk before . Once in awhile he would go to his dad dojo , Doug must've seen him those few times .

Also sometimes his Dad and Daniel would do classes together , but usually he would stick with Myagi-Do students .

Sam and Miguel were already in a relationship , so they were having a blast and it seemed Demetri and Hawk were hitting it off . So Here he was making small talk every time it got to quiet .

" so you like karate ? " He internally just cringed at himself but hey he was trying . He guess it wasn't that bad by the chuckle of Doug

" Yeah , what's it like to have two dads - "

" There's no difference , their just parents . Just because their both dudes and i have a mom too "

" I was gonna say what's it like to have both parents that know karate . "

Guess he should've have left the other boy finish , it was just that some people still don't understand that times have changed .

" I'm sorry I got all defensive on you . "

He gave Doug a small smile hoping the latter wouldn't notice how embarrassed he felt .

" Its alright , uhh do you play any other sports maybe soccer . "

Nodding to the question but then realise he had to answer before the mood gets ruined again .

" uh yeah when I was little , haven't played recently actually . Do you ? "

" Yeah I'm on the soccer team . Maybe you should try out , I wouldn't mind having you on the team unless your not good as you are in karate . "

Doug finish with a teasing smirk and a raised eyebrow waiting for the blonde to answer .

" I like to let you know that I was the best player on my team when I was a kid , well that's what my dad and Mom said but I withstand my point . "

Both burst out laughing , and once the waitress come with their food their both smiling at each other .

If felt kinda nice , it was awhile Robby hadn't laughed and gone out with someone that wasn't his friends or his parents .

...... ....... ........ Doug Pov

Doug was friends with Hawk since he joined cobra kai , they would hanged out in School. After school he would go to the dojo or to soccer practice .

Today he was free and had nothing to do , so he easily accepted Hawks idea . But he wasn't expecting said date to be a boy and son of his Sensei.

He wasn't into guys ,but he didn't mind the idea of dating one but he's just never seem to find a guy he would date . Here he was standing in front of his date as Hawk introduces him .

Robby had green eyes and freckles across his cheeck and nose . Dark blond hair and a nice smile . He was short compared to his height , he wore a black shirt with blue jeans .

His brain came to a conclusion : Pretty boy

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

" Do you want get out of here ? "

" Like right now ? "

" Yeah "

The two couples were distracted as they both left the dinner . Grabbing a hoodie from their own car as quickly as they could . Who knows why but they started running without realising they were holding hands . Their laughter was left echoing behind them .

They stopped at the skate park as they got tired . There were few people skating there , he turned to look at Robby once he didn't feel his hand . He watched as he jogged back holding a skateboard .

" Do you know how to skate? "

Holding a skateboard felt unfamiliar to him , handing it back to Robby who was wearing a cheeky smile .

" No , I'm guessing you do . "

" I know a few things . "

He shouldve known by that cocky smile he was lying . He watched Robby do some amazing stuff , he even showed that one hand stand . Then it was his turn , he failed miserably all the times . He asked what was the secret , as he once again falls .

" Its all about balance "

Robby looked up at him as he answered him . He understood the answer , since Mr. Larusso karate did involve balance .

Noticing they were standing close , face to face . Maybe it was the way the moon and street light illuminate the blondes face . Or the way he was smiling at him that he said those words .

" is there something on my face ? "

" Sorry it's just I never knew a boy could be as beautiful as you ... "

Seeing the surprise look and the addition of the blush contrasting his tan skin made his beat faster . God when did he become such a girl . His thoughts are interrupted when Robby quickly steps back , misstep and hurts his ankle .

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

Arriving at the dinner place he could see their friends waiting for them at their cars . Holdding on tight to Robby thighs for he wouldn't fall of his back . Chuckling as the boy groans in embarrassment as the others start to come closer seeing their situation .

" Robby are you okay ? Where were you two , we were worried . ! "

" I'm alright Sam , Me and Doug went for a walk and I hurt my ankle , hence why Doug is giving me a piggyback ride . "

" Oh I thought you decided to climb him like a tree cause - "

" Demetri ! " Robby tightens his arms as he shouts to quiet his friend . walking to Sam's car he hears the blonde mumbling while his head nudging against his shoulder .

Meanwhile everyone were saying goodbye he helps Robby get in the car . As gently as he could , he was stopped when he was opening the door . The latter looked nervous as he looked at him while bitting his lip .

" I had a good time , we should do it sometime again if you want or not ? "

" Yeah definitely. I will text you now that I have your number . "

He was already a sucker for that smile that showed off his dimples . Smiling , he leans in to give a kiss on the cheeck but Robby stops him as the blonde leans to give him a quick peck on the mouth .

" Bye ! "

" Bye . " Walking back he couldn't help but look back and wave at the blonde when he catches his eye . shit , he was totally blushing now .

....... ...... ... Robby Pov .......

Sam and Demetri both entered asking questions if he was really fine or in pain . once he assured them that he was alright , Demetri took it as a sign to tease him .

" We want all the info , cause we totally saw you , you slutty marshmallow ! "

Sidenote : Part 3 of the triple date , hope you guys like it . Also what would the ship name be Roug or Dobby . I like Roug ! . Side mentions of Lawrusso because why not . This was supposed to be Apocalypse / Zombie au but this ^^ was made at the thought of a triple date with the binary boyfriends .

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nctzendreamz · 4 years ago

Text

off the table — lee taeyong

genre: angst w/ hints of fluff.

warnings: language, mentions of drug abuse, and mental illness.

featuring: nct members + chan and felix from stray kids.

authors note: taeyong was perfect for this in my head. also, thank you ariana grande.

is love completely off the table?

will I ever love the same way again? will I ever love somebody like the way I did you?

it had been almost a year. almost a year since he had heard your laugh. you know, the one only he was capable of getting out of you. it was gentle, yet so vibrant that it could color even the most plain and unpleasant rooms. he had seen you do it a million times, but his favorite work of art of yours was the one you did on his heart.

obviously, he couldn’t see what the inside of him looked like. but he could feel it. before he met you, he was certain everything was pitch black. to be specific, the darkest shade of the night sky one could possible fathom. so much pain resided in him. some he brought to himself, some he did nothing to earn. regardless, it was there, and as anybody with demons did, he found coping methods.

that’s how he met you, actually. holed up a strip club he had no business being in. one, because there was no one here he truly wanted. he would never admit it outloud, but the thought of love warmed him. not much, but it did. more than silly one night stands that have soul ties no one wanted to keep.

you were clearly out of place in the building filled with the scent of marijuana and flashing lights, although it did perfectly consume your complexion in the most beautiful way. he observed you for what felt like hours, just admiring you. he had no idea he would want to do this for the rest of his life.

it didn’t take much liquid courage for him to approach you. he could sense your fear when his slender fingers touched your exposed shoulder. for some reason though, the minute your eyes locked it was as if you were looking at someone you had known for a million lifetimes. or maybe that was just Taeyong’s point of view. maybe, everything was all an illusion. meeting you. falling in love with you. you falling in love with him.

“it’s been awhile.” a voice snaps Taeyong out of his deep thinking. the minute his concentration breaks does his surroundings suddenly blast into the center of his cortex. the volume increases. he is in the real world again. he isn’t high, yet.

“yeah.” is all he can spit out. all of the different coversations he could hear take place all of a sudden was making him extremely frustrated and unable to form coherent thoughts. or maybe he wanted it that way so he wouldn’t have to think about you.

you loved coming here. he hated coming here. but he loved you, and your favorite thing to say to him was, “when you love someone, you do things you hate. just like me sitting and watching you smoke for hours without stopping.”

he never realized how much you hated his distractions.

the here, was a restaurant that resembled a sports bar back where you are from. the food was less Korean and more greasy chicken tenders. and you really admired their honey mustard. it was kind of ridiculous how much you loved this place. it was always crowded. the smell was odd - a mixture of people who can’t seem to do anything but drink beer and yell, and foreigners who hated living in Korea. this was the only taste of home they got, so they took advantage of it.

did you feel that way too?

he doesn’t know. and he doesn’t want to think about it. some soccer game was on. people were cheering. he was just waiting on his to-go order.

“how have you been?” the familiar woman asks behind the counter. she was definitely in her mid-50’s. he assumed. she always would be here when Taeyong was dragged along, and she was always nice. who wouldn’t be with all the money you gave to this place.

“i’ve been fine.”

taeyong feels a little cheery conversating with another human. if it wasn’t his dealer, there wasn’t anything to say if he was being quite honest. his relationship with his family died out a long time ago. the only person that he could talk to was himself. the guys who were constantly down in the basement at his dealer were cool, but they never really got him. they thought he was weird, violent. only you cared enough to see how sweet he was. to paint him.

“good to hear. you tell your lover that i miss them!”

his heart, still colored from the mention of you, breaks. it had broken many times from your presence on this earth being acknowledged. everytime his chest would explode into his stomach.

he couldn’t say anything.

he simply walks out the place, not caring about manners. he just wants to go home. he doesn’t even like these fucking chicken tenders, but he’s going to go home and eat them. in your honor.

“excuse me.” a voice exclaims as he finally makes it outside.

once again, words don’t leave his mouth. the woman was probably lost. he truthfully didn’t care. he didn’t care about anything anymore.

“sorry,” she begins. her hair is almost a white color. it’s clearly dyed, but she might have been naturally a darker shade of blonde since the coloring seemed too perfect. “i just...i’ve been watching you - wait, that sounds incredible creepy—“

no one could compare to you, but she reminded him of you. you always did this when you were nervous, or had a severe lack of sleep. you would say things you considered to be silly. fumble with your words. and you would always ruin it more by acknowledging it.

but he was never irritated. he thought it was the cutest thing in the entire world. you were the cutest thing in the entire world.

even now, he’s okay. maybe because he was reminded of you, he can appreciate the art.

“you’re really cute.” she finally spits out.

he couldn’t respond, for the third time today.

why was this so hard? it has almost been a fucking year. a year without you. a year without touching you.

yet, no one could ever compare. not the blonde woman standing in front of him. not the sky. not the stupid bar. even his drugs seemed lackluster to the high you gave him whenever you told him you loved him.

he walks away. he needs something. something to make him unable to think for the rest of the night.

never thought you’d be so damn hard to replace. i swear I don’t mean to be this way, if I can’t have you? is love completely off the table?

“y/n? you there?” you feel vibrations from snapping on your face from the man sitting beside you. he snapped three times, to be exact.

“yeah! yes.” you quickly correct, adjusting your posture along with it.

“i know you appreciate the arts, but that painting is nothing to stare at.”

the painting chan was referring to, seemed plain to a simple eye. it simply, was a black square. but you saw worlds in it. you saw him.

“you know christopher,” you cooed, giving his slim cheek a quick sqeeze before continuing, “just because something seems boring to the naked eye, doesn’t mean it actually is. sometimes, a simple work of art such as that lame black square can hold a thousand meanings.”

he smile is radiant. honestly, the neon colored walls in the movie theater couldn’t compare to it no matter how hard it tried. lately, you had been trying to predict what he would say when you tried to be somewhat of substance around him. you were truthfully scared of boring him.

maybe you saw yourself in the black square as well.

“you really find it interesting, love?”

his accent - God his accent. it had an effect on you that truthfully wasn’t healthy, but even so you always felt guilty when your heart would papilate as it touched your eardrums. but why? you were single. you were moving on.

you can’t even look at him anymore, so you settle on the painting once more. now that you think about it, it was kind of scary that it was in a movie theater. maybe chan was on to something - what was its purpose? to simply cause you pain? to make you think about things and people you could no longer have? a person who is the worst possible thing for your growth, but the best food for your pitiful, lonely soul?

“never mind, you’re right.” you stand promptly, suddenly wanting to get as far away from the evil on the wall. it didn’t matter how chilly it was outside.

“woah.” chan chases after you. you’re too quick though. you’ve practically swam through the crowd to escape into fresh air. what is wrong with you?

it doesn’t take long for you to find yourself at his car. his pride and joy by the way, in which he never let anyone else ride in yet. he had been saving for so long to get it. you didn’t know the model, all you knew was that it made loud noises when he wanted it to. the car was originally white, but the two of you agreed that it was the worse possible color for a car, so he got a paint job and now it was as black as a dark hole.

the stars are beaming, and it’s odd. you used to love nights like this. you preferred the day time, but it was something about a light in the dark, such as the moon that pulled you in. it always destroyed you in the end though.

“what did I do?” his voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“huh?” you wizzle in confusion, not understanding why he believed he had done anything but gave you a peaceful night not lost in your thoughts.

his eyes tell you everything you need to know before his mouth does. he isn’t questioning your ever changing emotions and happiness to hear satisfaction from your mouth - to boost his ego. he truly feels as if he’s ruined any chance he’s had with you simply from being himself. even so, as he waits for you to answer he’s taking his bomber jacket off for you to wear. he was sweet like that.

“chris, you are always perfect. why would you think anything different?” you say as you put the jacket on.

he’s holding back a smile, but you can tell it’s more so from your proper word choice, and not what you said.

“you trying to sound English?”

“no.” you giggle, pushing his shoulder lightly. “I’m just trying to communicate with you.”

“then tell the truth.” he prompts, taking a step closer to you.

“can I lean on the car?”

“yes.” he laughs in a low tone. “you can lean on the car.”

“okay.”

silence is filling the air, and it’s making you sick even though it shouldn’t be.

“y/n.” he finally speaks. you decide you have the balls to look at him even though it feels so wrong. the stars - they’re sparkling right into his eyes and you know you are the dumbest idiot on earth.

why can’t you just choose him?

the question is repeating over and over in your head, but no answer comes. well, no answer you want to hear comes. this should’ve been easy money. the perfect guy, with a good family and solid morals is madly in love with you. he’s still here, even when you barely give him anything to work with, and you’re thinking about others who were nothing close to that no matter how they made you feel.

“my confession ruined everything, didn’t it?”

it was about two months ago that chan confessed his love for you. you laughed a bit, as it made no sense. the two of you had been in the same circle for awhile, and you had been notified of his appreciation for you long ago, but he had seen you break. he watched you go from happy soul to broken and he still liked you? in what world?

you enjoyed his company. that’s why you began to hang out with him practically everyday - doing whatever you two wanted. most of the time you two just watched movies, or played silly board games. but sometimes you would go shopping, or he would play you his music he worked on. you could tell he lacked confidence on what he could become, but you knew he had the potential to be so great.

his confession was short and sweet. and the way he approached you, you could tell he was somewhat confident that you would feel the same. you did feel the same, but you also still had feelings for others. when you declined his request to take things to the next level, he didn’t get upset. or at the least he didn’t show it.

he promised the two of you would move at your pace. and that was all you needed to hear to know that maybe one day, when you got yourself together, the two of you could be something.

chan always protected you. you never felt endangered, or unsafe when you were with him. to you, he was sweet, to others he was still sweet, but he knew when to be stern.

“no. i promise.” is all you answer. “it’s cold.” here you go again trying to change the subject. this wasn’t like you.

he promptly unlocks the door to his car, opening it for you as well. it isn’t long before he’s on the drivers side turning on the car so you could feel some heat on your body.

“i won’t bring it up anymore.” he sighs.

“no chris. you bring it up everytime you feel it. i like you, okay? i do. i know I’ve never said it out loud before, but I do. i just...i don’t know what I’m doing right now. there are some things I have to get over you know?”

you can tell the amount of words you used - probably the most you had spoken to him in months shocked him, and made him feel extremely guilty. you know he didn’t want you to feel like he was trying to pressure you. all he wanted to have was something. something that made him feel as special as he knew you had made others feel in the past.

“y/n I’m a fucking idiot. God, don’t listen to me. you are perfect okay? we are working at your pace and we always will. i - fuck.” his face goes directly in his hands.

it’s cute - the way he cares about his every move around you so deeply. you remember what it felt like to feel like that. it was the most nerve wracking, yet butterfly giving thing to experience when around someone you admired so much.

“chris...” you whisper, removing his face from his palms. he had the softest hands ever. “hey, don’t beat yourself up okay? i know what you want and I know you have nothing but the purest intentions. if I didn’t feel that way I wouldn’t want to spend everyday with you okay? whatever you think this is, it is. i promise.”

“okay.” he sighs the biggest breath of relief you had heard in a long time. “okay. i know what we need.” he offers. your hand lingered on his, and he decided it would be best to hold yours as the opportunity presented itself. it’s nice - the warmness. yet, it feels incredibly wrong.

you truly didn’t mean to be this way. you would do anything to not be this way.

“let’s go cop something from felix. hm?”

what chan was reffering to was the good ole’ mean green, weed. you smoked a lot more in the past than you did now, but you were still no angel. especially tonight did getting high sound like the best decision you could have made.

“yes please.” you say without hesitation, leaning back in the seat. your left hand is still in chan’s right, and you don’t plan on letting go. felix’s house isn’t that far from here, so you know your pleasure will be coming sooner or later. chan starts the car and begins the journey. usually, the two of you drive with music on, but tonight the silence was what the both of you wanted.

secretly though, chan snuck his AirPod into his left ear. he loved music, but he could tell you weren’t in the mood. and he didn’t mind that. he would do anything for you. the lyrics resonated with his with his soul so much that he felt it ache, even though he felt he had no right.

i’ll wait for you

even if I always feel like I’ll be number two

to someone you can’t hold anymore

taeyong can’t even recall how long he had been pent up here, high as hell. intoxicated as fuck. the chicken tender meal he brought had been long gone, but not from his mouth. the junkies smelt food, and took food like the animals they claimed to be.

this all sucked so bad. he hated being here. but he couldn’t move.

it was so loud in here. the boys he knew - johnny, mark, and jaehyun were all present. they seemed to be the leaders of the basement and they also seemed to be functioning quite well considering how high they also were. taeyong couldn’t fathom or make out what their conversation were, but he assumed it was about girls. he caught, “they’re supposed to be here any minute now.” from jaehyun’s lip. he seemed to be the strongest ladies man. all taeyong knew, was that he wanted no parts of the drug induced orgy he knew was going to take place. he also knew if he didn’t leave, they didn’t care. they were going to give a show regardless.

“taeyong!” johnny yells, bringing him back to focus. johnny was always very intimidating. he wore a smile when he got what he wanted, but if he spoke to you and you didn’t listen, he quickly got upset. maybe he was different when he was sober, but that was never.

“what’s up.” taeyong answers dryly, still not looking at him.

“you know,” johnny sits down in the dirty floor right beside him. “you’ve never been fun, but you were more fun before than you are now.”

“i went through this phase.” mark interrupts, taking the seat on taeyong’s opposite side. “what is it? mommy issues? a girl? or a boy? if you get spicy like that.” he chuckles. he coughs right after.

“how about everything. except the last part.” taeyong whispers.

“oh...you have it rough. was your mom a druggie too?”

“no - well, I don’t know. i met her like once when I was younger. she told me ‘i did it for your good’ and left.”

“so you were in a foster home? or did you get adopted?”

“foster home. neglected, so now I’m like this.” he chuckles. he’s laughing, but in reality to admit these things out loud hurt, even though he was sure the other boys had similar or worse stories.

“and the girl?” mark asks. he had began to roll up another blunt in the midst of taeyong’s life story. maybe it was too much for him. or maybe he was just an addict.

“i cheated. and i was mean. she was the best thing ever though. she got me clean.”

“for what? a day?” johnny laughs outloud.

“well, not clean clean.” he explains. “but off the hard stuck like coke, and lsd and shit. we both smoked weed. and I smoked cigs.”

“ew!” the two of them exclaim. “cigs?”

“so you’re telling me that the two of you do every drug under the sun, but cigarettes are where you draw the line?”

“duh!”

“have you seen all the commercials? with the person with the hole in their throat sounding like the old shriveled lady from spongebob going ‘chocolate!’ we don’t want that!”

“cigarettes aren’t the only thing that can cause that, you know?”

“whatever.” johnny shivers as if he had just gotten the worse news ever. “so this girl wasn’t a druggie? why did she even like you?”

“i don’t know. still to this day I don’t know. but she did. and she tried everything to make me happy. it just felt too good to be true, so I ruined it.”

“damn bro.” mark sighs, taking a deep puff of his blunt. “i thought people only did stupid shit like that in the movies or tv shows.”

“hey hey now, markie.” a voice speaks out of the corner. “be nice to our new friend.”

it’s jaehyun. funny enough, jaehyun tried to get at you once long before you met taeyong, but you had no interest in him once you found out his issues. then again, while he was attracted to you, he didn’t want you to love him. he just wanted to corrupt you.

“our boy is broken hearted. seems to me like he just needs some fun.”

“relax, jae.” johnny explains. “he’s not there yet. let him fall for us on his time.”

“what are you on right now?” jaehyun inspects.

“just a couple of blunts.”

“so just a starter?”

“hyung...” mark sighs.

“okay okay. fine. but when the heartbreak starts to kick in more, i got something that’ll change your life. you just let me know.”

“he will.” johnny and mark say once again in unison.

“boys!” a voice yells. it makes everyone stand up minus taeyong, as he had no idea who it was. he can hear feet coming down the steps. there’s a boy with blonde hair. the same boy who let him in. he was a new face, but clearly an important one from the way even jaehyun was waiting for his comment.

“hi felix!” everyone begins to repeat after eachother.

his voice is deep as he speaks, and his accent is thick. his face itself may have not been scary, but the way he carried himself was.

“clean up this fucking mess. i know you can’t do anything about the shitty couches, but make an attempt. i got some good people coming over and I need quiet. when I bring them down here to show them the product, i need everyone on their best behavior.”

“what exactly does that mean?” taeyong speaks. maybe he shouldn’t have, because everyone is looking at him as if he just called the president a bitch to his face or something.

“you’re new here.” felix explains as he finishes his strut down the stairs. he can be seen more clearly now, and his outfit reminds taeyong of someone you knew. he couldn’t remember his name, but it was chan or something. “well, new to me.”

“and?”

“and...” felix crouches to his level. “im the boss. and all of you do what I say. my brother ran this like a crackhouse. i want us to make some real money, therefore you all will be getting cleaned up. there will be people coming in and out, looking at what we have, so try not to act like the druggie you are. thanks.”

“yes sir.” taeyong says, although he has no intentions of respecting this felix cat.

the doorbell rings promptly. the house wasn’t so big that they wouldn’t be able to hear. clearly this felix had plans to change that, but for now he had to settle.

“that’ll be them. look like friends so they won’t be scared. they’re not like us. or, what you will be.”

with that he leaves. everyone is silent as they want to know who exactly is this person. they all expected some rich man with a million connections to be at the door. they hear one voice - an accent is present. he’s laughing, and they hear the sound of them dapping up.

“friend.” the voice says. they must have not seen each other in a long while. “what’s up? how have you been?”

“oh, I’ve never been better.” felix says. “and y/n.”

the sound of your name makes taeyong’s heart stop in his chest. what the? how could you of all people be here? you hated drugs. this was clearly a trap house. this is where taeyong would go to get everything you wanted, but you always refused to go with him. what male had you here?

jaehyun is smiling as he recognizes your name too. taeyong can’t notice though as he is genuinely about to have a panic attack.

“come downstairs will you? since chan told me it was a special occasion, I decided I’d let you two take a look.”

“felix...are you running a trap house?” you joke, not realizing how true your words were.

“not at all, sweets.” he relaxes you. “i just have good shit from my brother that needs to be sold. this is our little secret though.”

“we know.” chan answers for you. “snitches get stitches.”

“and end up in ditches.” felix finishes. “there are people down here, but they’re just chilling. don’t be scared.”

the three of you make your way down to the basement. jaehyun is the first face you recognize. you feel sick, but he didn’t phase you that much.

the black haired boy though, sandwiched between two other guys, makes your trip and fall on the disgusting floor.

it’s him. it’s really him.

why? all you wanted to do was have fun. all you wanted to do was forget him.

you can see in his eyes does he want to explode. but this was his fault. this was all his fault.

to be continued...

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