#angs!t! angst angst angst angst-

[leclerc-hs]

do i wanna know? (pt.2) - cl16

pairing: brother'sbff!charles x gasly!reader summary: in which you find yourself tangled in a web of emotions with your brother's best friend OR it was never just sex between you and your brother's best friend warnings: 18+, smut under the cut!, badly translated french (prob), angst!!!!, not proofread!! word count: ~2.3k author's note: SURPRISE SHAWTY!!!!!! i am here apologizing for being MIA for so long. if this is SHIT I apologize I just have been struggling with writer's block for months and have been very stressed and busy with work!!! I really tried my best so don't be too mean to me over this lmaooo. I love u all!!! there will be more of them to come ;) also since it's been so long since I've properly written this MIGHT be a little rusty so pls forgive me

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE TRANQUIL MELODY of the waves crashing against the shore is truly a captivating sight. You sat by the water in an oversized t-shirt and bikini bottoms, absorbed in the symphony of nature. So engrossed were you in the soothing sounds, the glistening water, and the caress of the breeze, that Charles’s approach caught you off guard.

“There you are,” his voice resonated like the ocean. You sensed the warmth of his presence as he settled beside you on the sand, propped up on his hands.

Though you didn’t turn to face him, you could feel his gaze fixed on your profile.

“Do you think we’re being stupid?” You couldn’t help but ask. 

“Quoi?” What?

“I just don’t want to hurt Pierre.” You finally turned your head to look at him. “Was it a mistake?”

You didn’t think it was. But the more you sat and thought about it, the more stressed over the situation you became. 

“No.”

You smiled softly, pulling your knees up and resting your head upon them as you truly took in the sight of him. 

“I think we should do it again.”

-

The two of you fell into a pattern quickly.

“Such a dirty fucking slut,” Charles groans out loud as he looked at the sight of you on your knees before him. His cock was heavy in your hand as you slowly start to pump him. Pre-cum leaking from the tip, oozing onto your fingertips. It was a gooey mess.

You stare up at him with a smirk on your lips as you take in his flushed cheeks and his pale knuckles from clenching the countertop so tightly.

“Mmm,” You moan as you bring him to your mouth, swirling your tongue around him slowly. You suck lightly before dragging him in and out of your mouth. 

You swore you could look at him for forever and never get tired of it. You were constantly in the depths of convincing yourself it was nothing but sex. 

“So fucking beautiful.”

“Could stare at you all day, mon ange.”

But is it really?

-

You’re not sure when it changed. But it did.

The gentle warmth of the morning sun seeped through the delicate curtains, causing you to let out a soft groan as you slowly awakened. Shifting in the bed, you squint against the bright light, and eventually force yourself to emerge from the cozy embrace of sleep.

As you turn your head, your attention was instantly met by the striking view of a broad, bare, and muscular back dominating your view. Instantly, a swarm of butterflies fill your stomach.

The early sunlight cast a soft glow on his smooth, tanned skin, accentuating the sculpted contours of his muscles. His breathing was steady and calm, a comforting rhythm that contrasted with the crisp morning air. His hair, slightly messy, fell against the nape of his neck.

The gentle upward curve of your lips was almost instinctive as you reached out toward him, running your fingers through the soft wisps of hair at his neck.

He lets out a small grumble as he shifts around, his face nestled in the pillows. Then, he turns to you, his gentle smile already in place before he opened his eyes. His arm drapes over you almost instantly, tugging you into the warmth of his body and immediately peppering soft kisses to your neck.

“Je pourrais rester ici pour toujours.” Could stay right here for forever. He whispers in between the soft kisses.

You feel the blush form on your cheeks almost instantly.

“Me too,” you respond softly.

“Do you think we could?”

The longing to say yes tugged at your heart, but you resisted, knowing the potential complications it could bring. Instead, you laughed, trying to shake off the heavy thoughts about the chaos and challenges that might follow. For now, it was just the two of you. Just two regular people.

No Pierre. No burdens of the outside world.

It’s been weeks of this. Whatever this was between you. You both found yourself too greedy to give it up. The sex was too good. He was too good.

-

Strong fingers intertwine with the strands of your hair, a delicate tug at the roots sends a tingling sensation cascading across your scalp, igniting a fiery yet exquisite sensation that dances on the edge of pleasure and exhilaration. 

“Nous devons faire attention.” We need to be careful. You softly groan as your bare back becomes flush against the contours of his chest, slightly dampened with sweat. The pace of his hips doesn’t falter as he brings his lips to the shell of your ear.

“Pourquoi?” Why? You know he’s teasing you. “Want me to stay hidden, hm?” The one hand that rests against the soft skin of your hips squeezes hard, as if he needed the reminder that you were here and, in his arms, and on his cock. “Ton petit secret sale?” Your dirty little secret?

The words wouldn’t come. Every time you tried to speak, they tangled in your throat, choked by the weight of the situation. You wanted to tell Charles that you didn’t see him that way, that he meant more to you than anyone else. But your brother…his best friend, loomed too large over whatever it was you two were.

You struggled to hide your wince as Charles places a quick but harsh squeeze to your throat. 

“Not even that will shut you up, hm?” He groans in between each thrust. “Pierre is in the room next over. It’s like you want to be caught.”

“Maybe I should just call him in here, hm?” 

You felt yourself pushing back against his thrusts, meeting him in the middle at a feverish pace, needing to remove the ache between your legs.

“Let him see how big of a cock slut you really are.”

You shook your head, soft moans escaping your dampened lips as his arm slips down and presses to your clit.

“No?” He eggs you on. “You’re just my little cockslut, right?”

You nod eagerly, your head lolled back against the crevice of his shoulder and neck for support. 

“Say it.” He demands, his fingers quickening on your clit. “Tell me you’re my little cockslut while you cum all over me.”

“I’m-“ You struggle to get the words out, too caught up in the way his cock slips in and out of you, his fingers rubbing your clit, and the groans escaping past his lips into your ear.

“C’mon mon ange,” He grits. “Make a fucking mess.”

“I’m yours.”

It happened so fast, it was almost a blur as Charles hurriedly pushes you face first into the mattress, hips slamming into you at such a speed, you both went soaring over the edge of your orgasms.

A few quiet minutes passed as you both caught your breath, little laughs and smiles as both of your bodies lie in a tangled mess.

-

“The Gala is coming up,” Charles spoke. His throat burning in anticipation as he waited for you to catch onto what he was implying. He wanted you by his side. Wanted you on his arm. Wanted no one to touch you but him.

“Nous avons déjà discuté de cela.” We’ve discussed this already.

Charles could slowly feel the annoyance building in his chest as he pushed himself up off the bed, dragging his body to the bathroom to retrieve a wet cloth to clean you up. He wasn’t used to this, to say the least. And he wanted you to himself so fucking badly.

It wasn’t until after his finished cleaning you up, that he spoke again. “Combien de temps?” How long?

You sat up, slipping on whatever article of clothing was closest to you. No doubt, one of Charles’ worn t-shirts that draped to your thighs.

You tilted your head to the side just slightly, encouraging him to continue.

“How long will you avoid telling Pierre?”

-

Giving Charles the silent treatment was probably the worst thing you could’ve done to him. But you didn’t know what else to do. 

Your back was turned to him, the burn of his eyes on the nape of your neck had you on high alert. You couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t meet his gaze.

The room felt colder with each passing second, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on you both. You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it impossible to speak. A part of you wanted to turn around, to meet his gaze and to find some way to fix whatever this was. But the fear of what you might see in his eyes—hurt, anger, hunger—kept you frozen in place. Well, as frozen as you could be while dancing with another man.

He was proper cute. Tan skin, chocolate eyes, scruffy hair. His name, however, slipped past your mind. You think it was Rob. Or was his name Ryan? Something with an R. You think.

It didn’t help in the slightest bit that Pierre is the entire reason you’re in this situation to begin with. He practically forced you into the arms of Rob. Or is it Ryan?

“You look beautiful tonight,” The man looked down upon you, a small grin on his face as he twirled you around the dance floor. A small blush crept up on your cheeks.

“Merci.” You thanked him. “How do you know my brother?” You needed to keep the conversation going. Anything to take your mind off the stare burning your skin from afar.

He opened his mouth to begin a response but was instantly interrupted as soon as the voice of another was by your side.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Charles began, but he was clearly anything but sorry. His voice was stoic, void of any emotion but annoyance. “I need a word with you.” And before you could put up any argument, his fingers clasped onto your wrist, dragging you away from the dance floor and out of the ballroom.

Despite your protests for him to slow down, he continued at his unrelenting pace, tagging you along without regard to your inability to keep up. Charles then ushered you, if one could call it that, into what appeared to be a cramped coat closet.

The dim lighting obscured the usual green hue of his eyes, leaving you uncertain whether it really was the poor illumination or his evident anger that caused this change.

“Are you crazy?” You half-shout, waving your arms in the air in frustration once you pull your wrist from his grip. “You just made an absolute scene in there!” 

“I made a scene?” He raises his voice in frustration. Like he can’t believe that you have an issue with his behavior when you were the one dancing with another man. “You might as well just go fuck that guy on the dance floor!” 

He knew he was talking in fits of jealousy, and he knows that it’s wrong. But he couldn’t contain it. Couldn’t help but have an outburst over this situation. You didn’t even look at him the entire night.

“It was one dance!”

“I don’t care if it’s just one. It may as well be five hundred!” He sneered while his fists clenched at his sides. “Je ne partage pas.” I don’t share.

“I can’t do this right now.” You pleaded softly.

“Do what, exactly?”

“This.” You silently begged for him not to continue questioning. To not go there.

“And what is this?” or what he really meant is ‘what are we?’.

You both fell into a silence as the weight of the question weighed down on you both. You didn’t want to reach this point. You both knew what it was, but you weren’t ready for the answer. It was supposed to be fun and just sex. Something Pierre would never need to know about.

Charles took your silence as an answer. But he refused to accept it. He made a small step towards you, his green eyes locked onto yours, to which you retreated one back.

“Please don’t come closer,” You begged with a small quiver of your lip. “I need you to stand a step away from me.” You knew the moment he was closer; you were done for. Your resolve would be over.

“I can’t.” He emphasized. “I can’t stay away. Not from you.” He was distraught. Why didn’t you understand? 

“Charles, please.” Your lip quivered just slightly as your hands fell at your sides, your fingers playing with the fabric of your dress.

“Do you think I want to be like this?” He pushed. “Do you think I want to be thinking about my best friend’s sister 24/7?” He could feel his resolve slipping the longer he stared at you. You were beautiful, one of the easiest people to talk to, and he couldn’t not love you.

It was so quick. One second you both were feet apart, the next his lips were pressed against yours as your hands grabbed onto his biceps pulling him closer to you. The feel of his muscles underneath his suit were prominent against your fingertips as you moaned softly into his mouth.

Both hands enveloped your jawline, sprawling onto your neck in a feverish rush. It was a clash of tongue and teeth, and neither of you wanted to stop.

[blackypanther9]

Very first Period – Teen!Daughter!Reader x Father!Alastor

WARNING!: Mention of blood, cursing, slight bit of angst, talking about how babies are made, talking about why the period is happening and what happens AND MORE ! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!! I MEAN IT ! DO NOT READ THIS IF THE BABY MAKING MAKES YOU UNCOMFY !! I tortured Alastor...

A/N: Lol Alastor had to educate himself and teach you what was happening and all the shtick. RIP Alastor Hazbin, guys. I think he died five times before he even explained anything to you and then another 10 times as he educated you. (Pic belongs to rightful owner)

Words: 4 726

TAGLIST: @meg-giry1 @wen01203

You felt like shit, utter shit. Your lower belly was hurting and you didn’t understand why. You didn’t tell your Father, Alastor, anything about this, not wanting him to worry too much about you. A few days ago, you had a massive headache and now this. For crying out loud you were only 14 years old !

You decided to sleep a bit more, but then your Father, Alastor Hazbin, the Radio Host, barged into your room.

“Rise and shine, Darling~!”, he happily said.

“Daaaad...! Just five more minutes, please...”, you whined.

The Radio Host looked at you in confusion and looked at the time. You already slept in two hours more than usual and that on your and his free day too !

“Cher, you slept two hours longer in than usual, and that on our day off too. Are you alright ?”

You turned to him and looked out from underneath your blanket.

“My lower stomach hurts...”, you admitted, knowing it was no use to lie to him.

Alastor looked at you in worry.

“Oh dear...”, he muttered and left the room in a hurry.

It didn’t take long for your Father to return with a cup of a hot drink. He put it down on the night table.

“Here you go, Cher. My Mother taught me how to make this. She said if a woman has lower stomach pains, this will help the pains to subside.”, he said.

You looked at him and smiled softly.

“Thank you, Papa.”

“You’re welcome, my little doe. Now...do you want to cuddle and stay in bed until you feel better ?”

You nodded gently and made grabby hands towards him. Alastor chuckled and got into your bed in front of you. You immediately crawled over to him, put your head on his chest and smiled happily, snuggling into your Father. The Radio Host wrapped his arms around you and held you, while you enjoyed the comfort he gave you.

As the tea was cooled down, Alastor handed it to you and you drank the cup empty, then fell asleep on your Papa, who didn’t mind it at all.

It was afternoon when you woke up again and needed the bathroom. You carefully got up from your sleeping Father’s chest, crawled to the edge of the bed and then got up, making your way to the bathroom. After you were done emptying your bladder and washing your hands, you returned to your Father and weirdly enough, fell quickly asleep again. This never happened before, were you sick ?

As Alastor woke up, he grimaced. He felt something wet and sticky on his upper right thigh, it seemed to have soaked through his pants. He tried to move carefully, to not wake you up, but it seemed to have been fruitless. You woke up and made a noise of disgust and discomfort.

“What’s wrong, Cher ?”, the Father asked gently.

“I feel wet and sticky between my legs, Dad...”

“Did you perhaps wet yourself ?”

You gave him an offended look.

“Ewww ! Papa ! No !”

He lifted his hands in mock offence.

“I was just trying to make sure, Cher.”

As he moved you and himself, he felt that the mattress was also wet.

“What in the...”, Alastor said in confusion, disgust and worry.

“Papa...is it just me, or does the mattress feel....wet too ?”

“I feel it too, mon ange (My Angel).”

Then you froze and Alastor could feel you clench your legs.

“What is it, Cher ?”

“P-Papa...I-I’m scared...”

“Why are you scared ?”

“I...I think I am causing the sticky mess, b-but it doesn’t feel like I am wetting myself. I-I can’t stop it either. Papa, what is this ?”, you asked scared out of your mind.

Alastor hated that you were scared, because he was scared and worried too. Just what was happening ?! He took a deep breath, held you close to his chest and then tore the blanket off of both of you. His eyes went wide in horror, while you screamed.

The wet, sticky patch was blood. A pool of blood and it came from you.

“Fuck !”, Alastor cursed in a small panic.

He got quickly out of the bed and looked at his brown pants, his right pant leg was colored blood red too on his thigh. Your blood red.

“P-Papa, d-don’t leave me ! I’m scared !”

He looked at you, his daughter. He knew he couldn’t stay. He had to call a doctor. His house doctor.

“I-I’ll be right back. I need to call a doctor. Don’t panic and don’t move. P-Papa will be right back, Ch-Cher !”

Then he rushed off, while you started to sob and stare at the mess you made in bed. He sprinted to the house phone and quickly called his doctor.

“Doctor Thomas Hugo, how can I help you ?”, Alastor’s house doctor answered the call.

“Mr. Hugo ! It’s my daughter, she is bleeding out !”, the Radio Host panicked.

“Mr. Hazbin, please calm down. How old is your daughter ?”

“Fourteen !”

“Where is she bleeding out ?”

“Her woman parts I assume ! Her pants are all red and so is the mattress !”

“Has it ever happened before ?”

“No, never !”

“So this is the first time. I see...”

“How are you so calm about this ?! My kid is dying !”, Alastor panicked.

The doctor chuckled in amusement.

“She isn’t dying, Mr. Hazbin. Your daughter is having her menstruation week. It is normal.”

Alastor was confused and worried sick.

“A what now ?”

“Ah...I suppose you never heard about menstruation week before...Every month, for a whole week, a grown woman is going through it. It is normal. If you need further information, you need to seek out a library and get a biology book about woman and their menstruation week.”

After a bit more of convincing, Alastor hung up, changed his clothes and rushed out of the house and quickly drove to a library. As he arrived he went to the exact section, his doctor told him the education book would be at. He found it quickly and went to the register. The librarian gave Alastor a strange look.

“My doctor recommended it to me for my daughter. I am a single parent.”, he said as he noticed her look.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were a pervert.”, she said softly and checked the book out.

It confused the Radio Host, why he would be considered a pervert for purchasing the book ? He hurried back home, checked on his daughter, who passed out and then quickly started to read the book. As soon as he started to learn what was actually happening he got embarrassed and uncomfortable. So she wasn’t dying, her body was just growing up even more.

He looked at you and sighed gently.

‘This will be very uncomfortable to explain to her...’

He knew he was in for a long explanation...

-Time skip-

As soon as you woke up and saw more blood oozing out of your womanly part, you whimpered. Alastor heard and came into your vision, by kneeling over you and blocking your sight from all the blood you lost.

“Cher...we need to talk...”

“H-Huh ?”

“Listen...this is difficult to talk about...but I’ve called Doctor Hugo and explained your situation and he recommended me a book to educate myself and you in this. He claimed it was normal and...I know what is happening to you now, mon petit (My little one).”

“W-what IS happening to me, Papa ?”

“Your body is growing up, that’s what’s happening. You have your menstruation week.”

“What...is that ?”

“Well...every month you have a menstruation week. In that week you will bleed out, but it is never harmful. I...never wanted to explain to you where babies come from, but now...I have no choice but to tell you, so this makes sense to you. So are you ready for the most uncomfortable explanation you will, hopefully, ever have ?”

All you could do was nod and your Father sighed, sitting down to your right side and running his left hand through your hair, to calm you down.

“Well...when two people love each other, a man and a woman, they get wed. After they married they usually start to want a family, which means they want a child and...”, Alastor swallowed thickly, “...they go and sleep together, but not in the sense that you think. They kiss and all that and at some point they get undressed. A woman and a man always have different...tools between their legs. That’s why we are referred to man and woman, we have different genitals. These genitals have to...connect deeply and after a while of doing the deed, the woman ends up pregnant with a baby in her belly. This whole baby making progress is called: Sex or, as I rather like to call it: sexual intercourse. Can you follow my words ?”, Alastor asked, very uncomfortable.

“Kind of ? I mean...how do these genitals connect ? How does a baby go inside ?”

“Ah...”, he swallowed thickly again, “Well, you see, my Dear... The man’s genital is inserted into the woman’s genital and they move around until the man has something, called an orgasm. In that orgasm he can make the woman pregnant and she has the tool to carry a baby inside her. It is called a womb. You can’t make a baby without the other part either, besides you adopt a child. You, my beloved daughter, have a womb and something called egg cells. Every month your womb prepares to have a baby and if it doesn’t happen in that month, everything will start to...expire, practically. To get it all out, the dead egg cells and the preparations your womb made, you will bleed out. There are many words for this event. Menstruation week, shark week, period, strawberry week and so on. It usually goes a whole week and then it is over and you are perfectly fine again. It is practically just a cleanse.”

You scrunched your nose up in disgust.

“Eww...I never want to have intercourse with a man. Yuck.”, you said with your tongue sticking out of your mouth.

Then you looked at your Father again.

“So...I’m not dying. I am just having my womb cleansed and it will take a whole week ?”

“Exactly. The blood loss is also supposed to be healthy for you. You have an exchange of blood, which is good. But a period is always different.”

“What do you mean ?”

“You can have more than one egg cell and if that happens, you will lose more blood. And at some point too much blood loss can make you feel dizzy. You can also experience cramps and they can vary from moment to moment. Sometimes they aren’t there, other times they just make you feel uncomfortable in your own skin and other times they actually hurt. Your lower belly pains might have been cramps setting in, my Dear.”

Alastor could tell you already hated this new development of your body.

“Great, so I will also be in pain when I am bleeding out. It isn’t bad enough that it feels like I am wetting myself without any control about it. Not to forget what a mess I am making...”, you groaned annoyed.

Your Father chuckled uncomfortably.

“You will also have cravings for different kinds of food and you will be extremely moody.”

You groaned again.

“Dad...please end me. I don’t want this.”, you begged.

“Sorry, Cher. But I can’t take this off of your shoulders. I already made a list of what I should get you. You will need some more hygienic utensils, like pads, for your underwear. We will need wet wipes, a few more washcloths, some bleach, Blood Thinner Tablets to clean the sheets and clothes, sweets, chocolate and some spices. Get washed up, as long as I am shopping. Don’t worry about the bed or the mess you will be making on your way to the bathroom, I will clean it all up when I return.”

“Okay, Papa...I love you.”

The Radio Host smiled at you and gave you a kiss on your forehead.

“I love you too, mon ange.”

Then he got up and left the room, not long later he also left the house and drove off. You got up and out of bed, entered the bathroom and let some warm water into your bathtub. You will take a long, warm, relaxing bath...

-Time skip-

You were just done with washing up, as you heard your Father return. Yet you were too afraid to get out of the tub, the water slowly turning cold. You couldn’t stop the blood flow and you had tears of frustration in your eyes. Why won’t this damn nightmare stop for at least a few minutes ?!

“Cher ! I’m back !”, your Father called and you heard his footsteps.

Soon enough he was in your room with the things he knew, you needed. You were nowhere to be seen.

“Cher ?”

“Bathroom, Papa.”, you replied with a sob.

Alastor’s smile dropped and he put everything down on your desk, then knocked on your Bathroom door.

“Cher, are you still in the tub ?”

“Yes.”, he answered with a sniffle.

“Do you...want me to come in and talk what upsets you so ?”, he asked gently.

A hiccup and water was moving.

“Y-yes...”, you stuttered out.

Your Father took a deep breath, closed his eyes and then opened the door.

“I’m not seeing anything, Darling.”, he said, trying to not be a pervert.

“Pa, you saw me naked at least twice already. There is nothing new to it.”, you giggled softly.

“So you want me to look ?”

“Dad, I know that you aren’t like other men. So stop being silly and open your eyes, before you fall into the tub or stump your toe.”

“Alright, Cher.”, he said gently and opened his eyes.

He looked at you in worry and confusion.

“So, why are you still in the tub, with lukewarm water none the less, Cher ?”

Your smile dropped and you glared at your body.

“The flow won’t stop. New clothes would be stupid to put on at this rate. Pa, it feels nasty. It feels like I am peeing even though I am not. I hate it. Make it stop, please.”, you begged him.

Your Father gave you a sympathetic look and left the Bathroom, returning with a small package. He sat down on the edge of the tub and held it up to your vision.

“These are Tampons, Cher. They are a piece of fabric and at the end is a string attached. I got from each different thickness two packages. This one is supposed to be the average size and thickness.”, he explained, feeling uncomfortable.

Oh, how he wished his Mother was here now, she would have had no issues teaching you this. He had to read in a damn biology book about this and now he has to teach you. He is VERY uncomfortable, but for you, his sweet daughter, he would do anything. Even leave his comfort zone to help you. You two were in this together.

You tilted your head to your left in confusion and looked at your Father.

“Why is a string attached to it ?”, you asked.

Alastor gave you a gently, yet wobbly, smile. He opened the package, carefully pulled one Tampon out and unwrapped it, then showed you the whole thing. You were confused, but ready to listen.

“The string here is there so you can pull it out. The whole piece of cotton fabric has to go inside you, where the blood comes out. It won’t hurt, don’t worry. It will stop the blood from flowing out of you and soak it up instead. When it is full, you will know, then you pull it out and replace it with a new one. Also, each time you go to the bathroom to relief your bladder, make sure to change your Tampon. It is hygienic and you will have a longer time before you have to change it again.”, he explained gently.

You looked at the small thing in wonder, yet in uncertainty too.

“Where does it go and....will it even fit ?”, you asked.

Alastor gave an uncomfortable chuckle and nodded.

“It will fit, don’t worry, as for where...the book I read in, has a very good description as a picture, I will go get it and show you.”

“Okay !”

Your Father got up and left the Bathroom, soon enough entering again with the biology book. He opened it and turned the pages until he had the side, then he turned the book around and showed it to you. Your eyes widened and you blushed deeply.

“Oh my stars...”, you muttered.

He lowered the book again and gave you and awkward nod.

“Indeed...”

“Okay then...Can I have one now ? So I can get out of the tub ?”, you asked gently.

Alastor nodded, took out a new packaged one, while you stood up in the tub, opened it for you and gave you the Tampon. You took it out of the Package, pulled on the string to make sure it was connected correctly, spread your legs and then gently inserted the Tampon. It felt weird...but you almost forgot about it after it was fully inserted.

Your Father looked away in respect, not wishing to make it any more awkward as it already was. Then you carefully got out and tapped his shoulder as you were wrapped in your towel. He turned around and looked at you.

“All done ?”, he asked.

You nodded gently with a small smile.

“Feeling better too, Cher ?”

“A bit, yes.”

“Good. Get dressed, I still have to show you another useful thing you will need to wear.”

“Alright, Papa.”

With that Alastor collected the open package of Tampons, the book too and left the Bathroom, letting you get dressed. After you were all dressed up, you entered your Bedroom and saw your Father taking off the soiled bed sheets. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you.

“Can I help ?”, you asked him, feeling guilty that you ruined the sheets.

“No, no, Cher.”, your Father quickly denied.

Then he finished tearing off the dressing of the mattress, seeing the damage it took. A huge red stain. The blanket also had a red stain.

“This will be taken care of easy enough ! Now ! Sit down at the foot of the bed, mon petit !”, your Father said, chirpy.

You did as told and Alastor sat down next to you soon enough, another box in his hands. He opened it and pulled out a white, long slip looking thing.

“This is a pad. The underside has a piece of paper on it, you tear it off and it is sticky. You put it into your underwear for extra measures to not soil your clothes. There are short ones and long ones. I bought from each length 2 packages. You tell me which ones were the most useful and I will stock up on it. Understood ?”

You nodded your head, close to crying. Your Papa went above and beyond to help you. He gave you the pad he was holding.

“Fasten it into your underwear now, mon ange. I will clean the sheets in the bathroom in the meantime.”, your Father said and then took the soiled sheets, entering your bathroom to wash them.

You quickly did as he instructed and were happy that the pad stayed stuck in your panties. Then you entered the bathroom and saw Alastor already trying to get the blood out of the sheets. The water was cold and it was already pink. He seemed to have no issues to get the stains out. He stopped and looked at you.

“Go to my bedroom and lay down, Cher. Your menstruation must take a tool on you. It is your first time after all ! You might feel sleepy again. It is normal to feel drowsy the first time it happens.”

“Are you sure, you don’t need my help, Papa ?”, you asked unsure.

“I am very sure, mon petit. Go lay down.”, your Father assured you.

You nodded gently and then left for your Father’s bedroom, laid down in his bed, cuddled into his blanket and fell back asleep.

-Time skip-

You were woken up by your Father and the sun started to set.

“Cher, what do you feel like eating right now ?”, he asked you gently.

You were in thoughts. As much as you wanted to say it was Jambalaya...it wasn’t. You had no appetite for it. You wanted something sweet.

“I crave something sweet...which is bad..you don’t like sweets...”, you sighed saddened.

“Cher, it’s alright. You have cravings now, you can’t control that. However ! I might be able to eat ONE sweet dish with you, but that will be for dessert !”

“What will that be, Papa ?”

“Beignets of course !”

Your eyes flashed in happiness.

“You can make them ?!”

“I sure can ! Hahaha !”

You hugged your Dad quickly, but winced in pain as your cramps have returned. Alastor noticed.

“What is it, Cher ?”

“Cramps...I moved too fast...”

“No worries, my Dear ! I will make you the tea again and you will be just dandy !”, your Father tried to cheer you up.

You smiled happily and nodded.

“I would love that, Papa.”

“Now...how about I make us some Crawfish Étouffée, as main course ?”

You nodded quickly. It had been a while since you had that dish !

“Yes, yes ! Please Papa !”, you said happily.

Alastor chuckled and rubbed your back.

“Alrighty then !”

You yelped as your Father lifted you up and carried you, bridal style, out of his room, down the stairs and into the living room. He put you down on the couch and then left for the kitchen. He returned a bit after, with a cup of tea and set it in front of you. It was still steaming.

“Here you are, mon ange.”

“Thank you, Dad.”

“My pleasure, Dear.”

Then he left the room again and started to prepare everything to make Crawfish Étouffée as main meal and Beignets as dessert. You pouted that you weren’t supposed to help, otherwise he wouldn’t have put you on the couch.

Your Father turned on the Gramophone and to life sprang a Jazz song, called “Broadway Rose”. You hummed a bit along, while your Father moved a bit to the tune. After some minutes you drank your tea and the next song came on, which was “Do just as I say”.

“Do we have only Victor’s songs playing right now, Papa ?”

“We do, Cher ! Is it not to your liking ?”

“No, no ! I love it ! I was just wondering.”

“Alright, Cher.”

As soon as your pain subsided, you stood up and entered the kitchen.

“Can I help, Papa ?”

Your Father looked at you.

“Only if you feel better, Cher.”

“I do.”

“Well then, you can ! Can you chop the onion, green bell pepper, parsley and the celery, while I prepare the crawfishes ?”, he asked and pulled out some crawfishes.

Some were dirty, so you nodded.

“I can !”, you chirped.

You quickly got everything ready, washed all the ingredients and then got to chopping, while Alastor took over the sink and washed the crawfishes. After he was done with washing the crawfishes, you were done chopping and he turned on the stove.

He made a roux first until it was a caramel brown, then he added your chopped ingredients.

“Can you get out the minced garlic, Cher ?”

“I will.”, you answered and retrieved it.

You gave him a teaspoon and as your chopped ingredients looked tender enough, to Alastor’s liking, he added two teaspoons of garlic to it.

“In the upper cupboard is Chicken stock, Cher. Can you please go and retrieve it ?”

You did as asked and he soon added slowly four cups of it. After all, they needed a serving for two. Everything was doubled, BUT the garlic. You weren’t a big fan of it. Alastor then added salt, pepper and more seasonings.

As soon as the mixture was boiling, he reduced the heat and put a cover over the pot, letting it simmer and only stirred it from time to time. While it will take for the next step a bit over 15 minutes, your Father started to prepare the rice already, by washing it and then adding it into another pot. He cooked the rice, knowing it will take a while anyways.

Then he waited a bit, while he smiled at you and instructed you how to make the beignets.

By the time the Crawfish Étouffée was finished, the beignets were in the oven, baking. Your Father quickly finished up the Crawfish Étouffée on both of your plates and then you both went into the Dining area. You both sat down and started to eat it, carefully, as to not burn yourselves. You hummed as the flavors exploded in your mouth and you felt happy.

As you were almost finished with consuming the dish, the beignets were ready, so your Father left to get them out of the Oven. He put over them some powdered sugar and then plated some of them, bringing them into the dining area.

“There are more in the kitchen.”, he informed you gently.

You nodded your head, as you two continued to finish your dish.

“I really missed your Crawfish Étouffée, Papa.”

Alastor chuckled gently.

“So did I, Cher. So did I.”

You gave your Father a gently smile after you finished your plate. You waited for him to finish too, no matter how much you were dying to try the beignets. After he finished he gently took a beignet and tasted it, humming in delight. You took one too and gently bit into it. Sweetness and flavor exploded in your mouth, but it wasn’t too sweet. You hummed and leaned back in your chair.

“These are delicious, Papa !”, you said after you swallowed.

He chuckled.

“They truly are, mon ange.”, he agreed and ate another one.

After you finished eating, cleaned the table, the dishes and your Father put away the leftovers of the beignets, he turned to you.

“Your bed is still wet, so I suppose you can sleep with me tonight, Cher.”

You nodded your head and left the kitchen, changed into your sleeping attire and then entered your Father’s Bedroom. You crawled into his bed and waited for him to arrive too. He did so quickly, changed in his bedroom, got ready for the night and then joined you in his bed. He hugged you close to his chest, which gave you comfort, you didn’t even know you needed.

You turned around and he laid on his back, while you put your head on his chest, curling up on him.

“You are the best Papa in the world, you know that ?”, you asked sleepily.

Alastor was shocked as you said that, but then smiled warmly and hugged you a bit tighter.

“Now I know for certain, mon petit. Sleep well.”, he replied and kissed the top of your head.

You smiled happily.

“Good night, Pa.”

Together the both of you fell asleep, exhausted.

Alastor was exhausted from the rollercoaster of emotions he had, the trips he made and practically ran around town to not leave you alone for too long, with the cleaning he did and the immense relief that you were not dying.

You were exhausted from the whole fiasco the two of you had when your period started, the blood loss and from the bit of work you did. Your first day with your first period, was anything BUT easy.

But together...you and your Papa pulled through.

Masterlist HERE !

[amourcheol]

paris (teaser)

❝You and Jeonghan, jazz-filled corners, hidden history, and the city of love.❞

historical! au | exes to lovers! au | angst, fluff, smut | approx. 45k words (teaser wc. 1.4k words)

s u m m a r y : disgraced by hollywood for the last time, you, a once superstar-turned-alcoholic, escape to the city of love to seek sanctuary from the ruthless tabloids. your sanctuary comes in the form of film noir superstar yoon jeonghan, the enigmatic man who taught you the art of acting, lust and love before your fame. when he asks to meet you once, just like old times, you cannot refuse. what is meant to be a simple date turns into a path of passion, pain and everything that comes with fooling around with your ex in the jazz-filled corners of paris.

c o n t e n t s : actor! mc, actor! jeonghan, mc is incredibly bitter and makes bad decisions, agent! seungkwan who is tired of fixing them, jeonghan is the suavest, sultriest mf, mentions of parisian landmarks in this fic, also a bit of french peppered throughout, greek mythology art references, tons of fluff which is also layered with angst, this will be very hurt-comfort, hella ansgty but will have a happy ending mature warnings -> alcohol consumption and abuse, smoking, this is basically sexual tension with plot, slightly drunk making out, oral sex (f. receiving) unprotected sex (refer point to bad decisions), very soft angsty sex, body worshipping, petnames (chérie, mon ange, darling, angel), overall emotional rollercoaster, more tba!

p l a y l i s t : here!

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld​ @sysymei @alaypsy23 @belladaises @jjeongddol @sparklyshuji @forcoups @ilovesungjun @wonwoo24 @scandal-in-bohemia @hopefulchick @superbbananananana @onedumbho3 @fragmentof-indifference @cuntycheol @rubywonu @if-i-like-i-reblog @yoonzinoooo @jungwoos-luvr @crookedwolfruins @leclercloverbot​ @alexai (let me know if y’all want to be tagged!)

a u t h o r ’ s  n o t e : after three years ... four rewritings later... she may finally see the light ... i am releasing the teaser now but will post the fic when i’m back from holiday! i hope you all enjoy the lil extract <3

read this fic here!

SHIT. YOU COULD NOT DO THIS TODAY.

Suddenly, you wished he was a mere figment of your imagination, because then he would not have to see you in your drunken, disordered state, looking for art that was not there, looking for the past in the present.

But then he began to move.

This very real presence walked closer to you, and you felt your entire body constricting, because Yoon Jeonghan was in front of you, the greatest star in the world was approaching you, the man of your distant memories was coming too close.

“Wait,” he then said, and your throat was closing up, you were blinking rapidly, chest growing heavy, and you needed him to get away. He came closer, and you knew then and there you were going to die on the cold floor of the Louvre, marble eyes on you—

And then your own gaze was glistening, and when he noticed it became harder to contain yourself. “_____, are you all right?”

“Yes!” you got out, but then you proved yourself wrong when a few tears slipped out, staining your cheeks.

The man wasted no time, closing the last space between the two of you as he reached out. Instantly, you repelled from his touch, almost flinching from his surprise. “No!” you rasped out, bringing out your own hands to create distance, taking a step back. “No, you don’t need to do that…I’m fine.” 

You breathed sharply through your nose. “I am fine.”

Hastily you turned to the empty space where he last was, before you followed him like a madwoman around the hall. He watched you, your back almost to him. “What…what are you…” you paused, trying to normalise your shaking voice. “What are you doing here?”

You could feel his inquisitive stare upon you. “I could ask you the same thing.”

That question was not being answered. “I asked you first.”

Because you could not see him, you were not aware of his reaction. Still, it was enough for him to answer, “Well, in the Louvre, or in Paris?”

You gritted your teeth at that. “I think everyone knows why you’re in Paris at the moment.”

“Do they, now?”

You could not help it.

Casting a momentary glance at him, you were taken aback to find his gaze upon you. “Are you aware, at least?” he asked you.

Despite his simple questions, your impending headache, you had to clamp down on your remarks. “Of course I’m aware,” you muttered. “The papers are all over the press tours you’ve been doing.”

A perfectly groomed brow arched at your comment. “I’m surprised you follow the papers at the moment.” 

You knew exactly what he meant. “One must keep check of the stories they gossip about,” you only said, focusing back on the empty space. “Those journalists cannot be trusted.”

“Hmm…” you heard shuffling amongst his clothes—no doubt crossing his arms. “I have read the stories.”

A scoff. “I suppose you believe them, don’t you?”

He noted the cruelty in your response. The actor did not take it to heart.

“I have always believed in the stories you told me, chérie.”

This time, curiosity controlled your movement.

Curiosity had you turning back, forcing you to observe his expression, catch his lie. 

But you found no deception.

No, there was only sincerity—pure as the moonlight shining on the two of you.

Chérie.

The last time someone had called you such a sweet name was too long ago.

How ironic, that it was the same man beside you who had bestowed you this very endearment.

A shuddered breath left you. 

You could not do this now.

You were going to say as much when Jeonghan interrupted you.

“Were you looking for something in here?”

Your furrowed brows had him humming. “I thought as much.” Gently, he jerked his head beyond your figure. “Strangely enough, I was looking for it as well.”

Confused, you glanced back at the empty space, where that certain, mysterious sculpture was supposed to be. “That is why I came to the Louvre,” you heard him say.

There was still suspicion laced in your features. “How do you know that we are thinking of the same piece?”

That ghost of a smile crept up again. “You act as if you don’t remember.”

Your sigh was a little sheepish. “I do,” you said, reminiscing on the memories. “But the name…”

No matter how hard you endeavoured, your memory of the sculpture was too hazy for your half-drunk mind. 

You searched him for an answer. “I’m sure you have not forgotten.”

“No…I have not.”

You waited. His silence had you insisting, “Well?”

When you saw a slight glimmer in his whimsical gaze, you knew that he had something else in mind. The implications had you biting your lower lip, anxiety blooming.

The nerves grew when Jeonghan spoke.

“I will tell you if you see me tomorrow.”

You blinked back.

“There’s an exhibition opening here tomorrow afternoon,” he continued, taking a step towards you, careful not to startle you again. “It’s centred on the sculpture we both wanted to see, but it’s been moved to another hall.”

He confused you a great amount. “How do you know that?”

His stare went beyond you, to the wall. “It says on the plaque.”

Sure enough—when you looked back, there was the notice. Because your French was adequate at best, you did not understand it fully. You simply had to trust his linguistic abilities.

That you could do—you were aware of Jeonghan’s fluency in the language of love. 

He cocked his head, a few strays cascading the side of his face. “You and I could see it there.”

The offer had shaken you. “Why?”

“Why?”

You knitted your brows suspiciously. “Why do you want to go with me?”

The film noir star watched you then, you shuffling uncomfortably under his scrutiny. God, you forgot how intense his eyes were—in fairness, you had not been the subject of his stares for a few years. 

He locked his gloved hands behind his back. “Because you need a break, _____. From everything.”

He offered you a smile. “Let me be the one to give you that. If only for the day.”

You could have crumbled before him.

It was at this stage you cursed yourself for being in such a state. Perhaps if you were sober, you would have carried on this conversation in a more respectable manner, taken more caution.

It was incredibly difficult, composing yourself around the man.

“I can’t…” you inhaled sharply, trying to form the words. “I cannot do midday…too many people, you know…staring, judging…”

“Ah.” He nodded, parting his mouth in thought. “Then tomorrow night?”

Stretching your mouth, unsure, he assured, “They will not follow you here at this hour.”

“How are you so sure of that?”

This time, he sighed, surprised at your anxiousness. “I see you’ve not changed, then.”

You narrowed your gaze. “What is that supposed to mean?”

But the actor did not seem like he was going to elaborate. 

He instead took another step towards you, a mere two feet left. 

“Do you trust me?”

You tilted your head back. 

What kind of question was that?

Do you trust me?

You did not trust anyone. Not after this whole debacle back home, when almost all your friends within the industry had contributed to your downfall. Hollywood was filled with traitors, the worst being the people who haunted the journey of your disgrace at every moment.

It was impossible to place any ounce of faith in another.

As you watched his eyes settle on you, you noticed an emotion you had not witnessed in forever.

Tenderness.

Tenderness with no ulterior motive—gentle acceptance, as if he recognised your position. As if he recognised your change, the apprehensive nature of your questions, your pauses. It physically hurt being stained with such compassion, when you had been begging for it from the world all those weeks ago.

It hurt, having someone who understood you.

You, however, should not have been surprised.

Yoon Jeonghan had always been like this. Especially when you both were together.

You could have smiled. 

What a time that was.

As if he could read your mind, the film noir star began, “You remember, don’t you? That I’ve never let you down?”

You decided to let yourself slip—you could always blame it on the alcohol. 

“What time do you want me here tomorrow?”

[pjohoo-reclists]

hi! do you have any percico fic recommendations? i’m sure you do but i couldn’t find them, lol

Actually I dont have any posted yet!! Here you go. Thanks for the request. Enjoy!!

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo Fic Recs

A list of fics featuring the romantic relationship between Percy Jackson and Nico di Angelo.

Dog Sled Racing by robindrake93

T | 600 words | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Puppies, Fluff, Short One Shot

Percy and Nico try to train Mrs. O'Leary's puppies.

To Give Yourself To Someone by cabin13 (friendlypeach) 

T | 1.0k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo, Nico di Angelo & Grover Underwood, Percy Jackson & Grover Underwood

Wedding Fluff, Speeches, Married Couple

Percy laughs, watching one of his closest friends stand up, almost bringing the tablecloth with him. “You’re being ridiculous!” Nico yells as Grover runs to the centre of the room. Eyes alight, slightly shadowed by black curls, a smile pushing insistently at his lips even as he tries to tamp it down – Nico is glowing with happiness. They’ve come a long way. And there's longer to go, still. Percy grabs his husband’s hand, warmth blooming in his chest.

a well-known fact about feelings by nlieco (madin456)

G | 1.3k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Angst with a Happy Ending, Internalized Homophobia

The thing about being a boy and liking another boy is: it’s not supposed to happen.

A Happy Ending by HK44

G | 1.5k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Fluff, Happy Ending, Domesticity

People make jokes that Percy would never handle domesticity. That he attracts danger like Hazel attracts cursed metals. He laughs along because they’re not wrong.

Something Bitter by sulucandles

G | 1.9k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Canon Compliant, One sided, Coming Out

Percy's not as oblivious as everyone thinks he is. Or an examination into Nico and Percy's relationship through PJO and HoO

It's a Seal! by Takara_Phoenix

G | 1.9k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

AU - No gods, Merman Percy, Selkie Percy

Nico loves the aquarium, especially the turles and one marine biologist in particular.

My College Boyfriend by Takara_Phoenix

T | 3.0k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Good boyfriend Percy Jackson, Fluff, Age Difference

Nico is seventeen and the best damn thing that has ever happened to him is his five years older boyfriend, Percy Jackson. Now if only Nico's friends would believe him that gloomy, anti-social Nico could land a gorgeous college student... Something always came up when Nico wanted to introduce them and at this point, Percy is known as Nico's imaginary boyfriend. Good thing Percy is awesome and knows how to change that though.

Pass the Eggs by DancingInTheSliverGlow

G | 3.1k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Nico di Angelo, Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Canon Compliant, Protective Percy Jackson, Gay disaster Nico di Angelo

“Yes.” Percy says. “You don’t have to befriend everyone in Camp Half Blood. I just want you to have somewhere you feel safe and welcome. Okay?” A lump forms in his throat, and Nico looks away. It’s been a long time since anyone has looked out for him, the way Percy is doing now. He nods. “Great!” Percy grins, ear to ear, and Nico thinks that it’s a bit like looking in the sun. Beautiful in small quantities, but overwhelming and blinding in too much. Percy speeds off to his room to get changed and to get his skateboards, and Nico leans back against the wall in the hallway, head in his hands. He’s so, so far in over his head. Aka. Post BotL Nico visits Percy. They talk about how Nico's powers are perceived, and about how camp half blood treats children of the big three.

Perspective by chiiyo86

T | 6.0k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo, Percy Jackson & Sally Jackson

AU - Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Outsider POV

Sally knows her son, knows that something isn't right. She just isn't sure what he could be hiding from her.

A Bat in the Hand by Takara_Phoenix 

G | 8.9k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Fluff, AU - Supernatural Elements, Vet Percy

Percy is a hard-working student, on his way to become a vet, because he loves animals. And then a cute, little bat crash-lands on his balcony. Of course he has to take the little guy in and nurse him back to health. Nico is a dangerous and powerful vampire lord. And then he has a run-in with vampire hunters and, in his bat-form, loses conscience and crashes on a balcony.

Some of Them by betsib

M | 11k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Abuse

Percy haven't seen Nico di Angelo in five years, then he suddenly turns up in Percy's living room in the middle of the night, injured and asking for help. At first Percy thinks it's a fight gone wrong, but he soon realizes the truth is far worse than that.

you're never lost at sea by kat777

M | 20k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Angst with a Happy Ending, Self-Acceptance, Suicidal Thoughts

The second time he tries to kill himself, Percy doesn’t talk his ear off, just gives him an ultimatum—he can either come live with Percy and Annabeth in their apartment in New Rome, or Percy will tell Hazel what he’s done. Nico pictures the devastated look on her face, the tears welling up in her eyes, her lips trembling and pressed in a thin line. Percy says he has a choice, and it makes Nico laugh for the first time since the battle at the House of Hades, because it’s no choice at all. OR, Nico attempts suicide, Percy saves him, and years pass before either of them are even remotely all right.

Kiss a Boy in Tokyo Town by antistar_e (kaikamahine)

T | 57k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo, Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase

Novella, Infidelity

You know what they say, Percy Jackson. If you can't stand the heat, get out of hell.

Enriched By Envy by HK44

M | 63k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Magic, Protectiveness, Dark Percy Jackson

Waking up at the bottom of the ocean was not on Nico's bucket list. Trying to figure out why Percy was suddenly so clingy and possessive of him wasn't on there either.

The Case of the Dying Flower by chiiyo86

E | 72k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Nico di Angelo

Murder Mystery, Slow burn, Soul Bond

It's not that Nico has been avoiding Percy for the past two years, of course not. It's just that he doesn't like to be reminded of the stupid crush he had on him when he was younger. So when Percy seeks him out with the message that the goddess Aphrodite wants to see both of them, Nico is less than enthusiastic. Before he knows it, he finds himself forcibly bonded to Percy and they're sent on a strange quest: solving a murder that happened thousands of years ago and whose primary suspects are gods.

[wangxianficfinder]

Junior Centric

~*~

to make an arbitrary wager by moonsteps (G, 9k, Junior Quartet, JL & LSZ, WangXian, Post Canon, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Friendship, sizhui and the mortifying ordeal of being the gusu lan heir)

Not Yet (There As Needed) by sunrise_and_death (T, 13k, wangxian, WWX & LSZ, LSZ & JL, post-canon, family bonding, dramatic revelations)  

无别无离 | Without Farewells, Without Parting by dragongirlG (M, 30k, Junior Quartet, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Fix-It of Sorts, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, POV Alternating, Jin Ling's Hundredth Day Celebration, qiongqi path, Family Feels, Hopeful Ending)

Would You Come Home? by s6115 (Not rated, 46k, WangXian, Junior Quartet Centric, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Junior Quartet Dynamics)

❤️ kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst, [Podfic] kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight by contributor-sky (deepestbluesky), esbielle was also here (esbielle), glittercracker, GodOfLaundryBaskets, jellyfishfire, kisahawklin, Koontyme, Rionaa, semperfiona)

❤️ grow by cafecliche (T, 14k, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Character Study, Post-Canon)

home is where we are by halfdemonvash (T, 17k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng are Bad at Communicating, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst and Feels, Hijinks & Shenanigans, accidental baby acquisition, but it's actually your older brother, references to wwx's past being homeless, and also his past food insecurity, Post-Canon, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, Junior Trio Shenanigans)

You Bring the Colour by fuddy_duddy (rainier_day) (G, 11k, WangXian, Modern AU, Art School, Art Restoration)

a symbol to remind you that there's more to see by paperminds (T, 9k, WangXian, canon-compliant(ish), post-canon(ish), Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Mild/Moderate Angs, tangst with happy ending, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Twin Idiots, Reconciliation) - Jin Ling & WWX focused, with a healthy side of Yunmeng bros

Anonymous Hero by NeverEnoughWangxian (T, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern Cultivators, Inventor WWX, POV LSZ, Inadvertently Reuniting Your Boss With His Old Crush/Best Friend, Reunions, Handwavy Detective Work, Handwavy Talismans)

keeping score by hauntedotamatone (T, 6k, LSZ & WWX, Background WangXian, the opposite of reconciliation, Protective WWX, Duelling, Grief/Mourning, not for jc fans, Swordfighting, Resentment, LSZ centric, No JC & WWX Reconciliation)

Lan Jingyi's Sixth Sense by bluesloth (M, 120k, LJY & WQ, LJY & LSZ, LJY-centric, Ghosts, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Explicit Language, Friendship, Drama, Humor, Action/Adventure, Family Feels, POV LJY, Canon Era, Minor Wangxian)

Tragedy is Not the End by Hobbsy3 (T, 358k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, People die but they (mostly) get better, Time Travel, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence from Qiongqi Pass, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Because JGS and JZN suck, JC is doing his best, JYL fixes everything with soup and a baby, JZX gets it together, Yunmeng sibling bonding, good dad WWX, good dad LWJ, JZX Lives, JYL Lives, Wēn Remnants Live, Junior Quartet Dynamics)

Important Distinctions by nagi_blue (T, 5k, Background Relationships, Fluff and Crack, Podfic Available)

🧡 Lan Sizhui Sees Dead People Series by darkbrokenreaper (T, 30k, WIP, WangXian, LWJ & LSZ, JC & LSZ, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Kid Fic, Hurt/Comfort, lsz sees dead people, Paranormal)

🔒 Lan Sizhui's Got a Crush! by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 46k, JL & LSZ & LJY & OYZZ, LSZ/OFC, Humor, Fluff and Crack, Case Fic, Gūsū Lán Juniors Dynamics, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Body Horror, Mild Gore, technically there are two cases in this fic, as a treat, the juniors acting as wingmen for LSZ, or more like they're trying to be good matchmakers, Post-Canon)

🔒 Grim Grinning Ghosts by Theladyofravenclaw (G, 3k, JL & LSZ & LJY & OYZZ, Ghost City, mxtx crossover, WWX's Birthday, the juniors shenanigans, Gambling, slight mention of gore once they enter the city, but nothing very graphic)

🔒 How to Seduce the Yiling Patriarch by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 8k, wangxian, post-canon, temporary amnesia, case fic, fluff & humor, crack treated seriously, angst, jealous WWX, YLLZ WWX, gusu lan junior dynamics, mild gore)

🔒 blue flies buzzing by RoseThorne (T, 2k, Junior Quartet, WangXian, Gossip, Rumors, Mentioned Wēn Remnants, Sect Leader Yáo Bashing, Yunmeng bros Reconciliation, NHS Is A Little Shit, POV LJY, POV Third Person, Threats, Justice, Cultivation Discussion Conferences, LWJ is LSZ’s Parent, LJY Being LJY)

~*~

[dkniade]

Some misc fic recommendations!

-

Teyvat scholar, Venti (ft. Traveler)

“Excerpt from the book ‘Brand New Verses From The Bard of Bards’” by threading_in_dreams (@/a-yarn-of-purple-prose)

G, 838 words.

canon-typical fragmented publication, Teyvat scholars have fun but also suffer, Poetry, pretend this is a book you picked up in-game, Traveler/Venti if you squint

Pages from a book in which a historian ponders about scraps of poetry found buried under Windrise, and argues they're part of Barbatos canon.

Very fun if you like Venti’s Archon/human personas, poetry, and piecing together information from in-game books!

-

Aether & Paimon (ft. Zhongli)

“Those who share the memories” by liminalpsych (@/liminalpsych-in-teyvat)

G, 3225 words. Fluff and light angst.

Aether POV, scrapbooks, memories, canon complimant, Pre-4.0 update, Liyue Harbor

Stone erodes beneath the fickle breeze and relentless river. Plants wither to be born anew. A flame burns to smoke and ash, and water changes form so often that it forgets even itself. The wind tries hardest of all to forget, fleeing into the far corners of the world to outrun the sands of time.

In the void above, the stars bear lonely witness to mortal memory.

Or: Paimon gets Aether to help her make a scrapbook of their travels. Aether reflects on the weight of witnessing.

Scrapbooking summarizes experiences with many NPCs from World Quests and Archon Quests. This one is kind of structured like an in-game world quest!

-

Cyno, Diluc, Rosaria, Kaeya

“It’s Time To Duel!” by StrangeDiamond

G, 6,688 words, humour.

Genius Invokation TCG, misunderstandings

When Sumeru’s General Mahamatra shows up in Mondstadt, announcing his intention to duel the Cavalry Captain, misunderstandings ensue.

Humour from knights and vigilantes taking things too seriously

-

Childe/Lumine

“A meteor” by blood_orange_juice (@/blood-orange-juice)

G, 350 words, fluff, character study/analysis.

Childe POV, First Meetings, morbid fluff, morbid fluff should be a genre with these two

A white-clad figure carefully threads her way through the crowd below. She moves like flecks of sunlight on water, without bothering anyone. A sign of someone who is fun to fight and it draws his attention for a while.

Childe and Lumine's first meeting from Childe's POV. No plot, only vibes.

-

Shenhe & Xiao, Cloud Retainer & Shenhe

“Like a Pair of Hunting Birds” by yelp

T, 5881 words, hurt/comfort, character study.

found family, trauma, feral child Shenhe, feral ancient Xiao, good and bad ways to manage emotions

"These were granted to me by Cloud Retainer," Shenhe explains, touching the ropes that he appears to be studying. "They bind away my murderous tendencies, as well as human emotion. Two dangerous traits for an adeptus, or for one who walks among them."

Xiao comes a little closer, and circles her. Obligingly, she lifts her hair aside, so he can see the intricate knotwork on her back, and he exhales a sigh or a scoff.

"Shall I unbind you?"

-

Xiao/Lumine

“Skin Hunger” by Mythicamagic

T, 2635 words, hurt/comfort, romance.

insecurity, intrusive and self-deprecating thoughts, some descriptions of violence and gore, body worship, established relationship, non-sexual nudity

When immortals fall in love with each other, they have all the time in the world to explore their relationship; but first comes the insecurities. Xiaolumi oneshot.

Has fun parallels with their wings

-

familial Diluc & Kaeya, Adelinde, Klee, Lisa, Jean

“blinded by love” by li2

G, 6481 words, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending.

Kaeya POV, unreliable narrator, misunderstandings, temporary invisibility, familial kiss, fluff, skinship & physical touch, sharing a bed

Diluc suddenly becomes unable to see Kaeya. Thinking it’s just Diluc’s usual hatred for him, Kaeya doesn't suspect anything wrong.

Kaeya’s POV for the first half hurts so much but the second half is sweet😭

-

Lumine, Paimon, familial Diluc & Kaeya

“Lamp Grass Guides You Home” by StrangeDiamond

Gen, 6387 words, fluff, light angst.

souvenirs. Chapter 2 has brief mentions of pain, starvation, and violence

After scrambling to cobble together a gift before their Jade Chamber visit, Lumine gets the idea to start collecting small gifts and souvenirs, so she'll always have something to give if she needs to.

Kaeya is the first one she goes to for advice, and he has a lot of good ideas for things she can collect and make, using Mondstadt's regional specialties. He even tells her about a certain souvenir he was once gifted - a charm made of Small Lamp Grass, encased in resin, that he unfortunately lost when he moved. There's a bit more to the story, Lumine learns, when she sets out to make one for him to replace it. There's history linked to the charm Kaeya lost . . . but there are also new memories to be made going forward.

A sweet one about making and receiving gifts

-

Zhongli/Venti, Venti & Diluc (ft. misc adventurers)

“I need to tell him (I can’t tell him)” by asingleqingxin

T, 1949 words, angst, major character death.

Venti POV, mentions Istaroth, set during Chapter 1 Act I’s Rite of Descension, Venti doesn’t know Zhongli faked his death, misunderstanding played for drama, grief, dissociation, Venti loses grip on time period briefly

Oh, that's not good news.

He needs to tell Morax.

...he can't tell Morax.

OR

When the rumors about the Rite of Descension hit Mondstadt.

Angst and misunderstanding from the canon event written from Venti’s POV in Mondstadt

[little-watcher]

Ellery, what happened are you alright? What’s going on?

-@not-qualified-for-your-bull

(Ooc: I just wanted him to expirience angst and another panic attack lol don’t mind me)

i’m- i ts m y fau lt. i go t ang ry, i wa nted t o be angr y s o ba d. it- hu rts. a l ot. i’d s ay ill b e okay, b ut i try no t to li e as mu ch anymore.

[lilithaban]

edge

pairings: wonwoo x female reader

— filo setting

🖋️: smut, angst!

warnings: 🔞, profanities, mature content, suicidal, protected sex

— dni minors!

posted: february 01, 2023

happy reading!

————————————————————————————

“Bakit ka ba nagkakaganito ha, yn?”

“Hindi naman kita girlfriend para umasta ka ng ganito! pinahiya mo lang ako sa mga ka classmates ko!”

Para akong binuhasan ng malamig na tubig sa mga sinabing kataga sakin ni Wonu. T-tangina.

Alam ko namang wala akong karapatan pero ang sakit sakit pa rin lalo na kung buong campus ang may alam sa nararamdaman ko sayo.

“Sorry… wons” bulong ko habang nagpipigil ng iyak.

Napakagat na lang ako ng labi dahil parang anytime lalabas na ang mga dapat kumawala. Para akong winawasak sa mga naririnig ko mula sa kanyang bibig.

“Tangina, ayan ka na naman. Sorry sorry sorry! punyetang sorry yan! nanadya ka ba talaga? Hinahayaan lang kita sa mga ginagawa mo pero ngayon sumusobra ka na. Kaibigan kita pero kung umasta ka akala mo girlfriend kita. Wag na wag ka ng lalapit sakin please lang. Lumayo ka na muna sakin.” bawat salitang lumalabas sa bibig niya tila isang patalim na sumasaksak sakin.

Tangina ang sakit sakit naman pala magmahal...

—

“Ang bobo naman kasi yn bakit ka pa sa bestfriend mo nagkagusto.” natatawa kong sinabi sa sarili ko

“Maganda ka naman at maraming manliligaw pero pinili mo pa rin mag mahal ng isang Jeon Wonwoo.”

Kahit na alam mong hindi niya kayang suklian yung nararamdaman mo. Natatawa ka na lang sa mga naiisip mo at bigla na lang nagbagsakan ang mga luha mong kanina pa gustong kumawala.

Tangina yn hindi ka ba nauubusan ng luha? ayun si Wonwoo nasa club kasama mga kaibigan niya samantalang ikaw pinapatay na sarili mo sa alak.

Hindi habang buhay magpapakatanga at luluha ka na lang dahil lang sa isang lalaki yn.

Pero kasi si Jeon Wonwoo siya.

Bestfriend at taga pagtanggol mo mula pa noon.

Naging sandalan mo na rin siya nung nagka tres ka sa isang major mo.

Hindi niya man kayang ibalik yung nararamdaman ko pero pinili niya pa ring alagaan at protektahan ako. Sobrang sakit lang dahil humantong ka kung saan ayaw na ni Wonwoo ang inaakto mo. Binago mo sarili mo para lang kay Wonwoo at hindi sayo.

Nagpaka possessive ka at sinakal mo siya kahit na magkaibigan lang kayo.

“Ginawa ko naman yung l-lahat eh pero bakit hindi mo pa rin ako magawang mahalin?”

Humagulgol ka lalo dahil wala kang narinig na sagot. Nanginginig ka na sa lamig at sakit kasabay din nito ang unti-unting pagkahilo mo dahil sa mga alak na ininom mo.

Habang humagagulgol ka napasulyap ka sa boteng binasag mo kanina. Dinampot mo ito at sinugatan ang sarili mo.

“Putangina wala pa rito yung sakit na nararamdaman ko sa mga sinabi mo”

Kung may nakakakita man sayo ngayon baka isipin pa nilang baliw ako.

Tinapat mo ito sa harap ng dibdib mo. Natatawa ka at lumuluha habang hawak-hawak ang basag na bote.

“Wala na rin namang kwenta yung buhay ko bakit hindi ko na lang tapusin to ngayon?”

Sobrang sakit na para akong pinapatay sa mga pinagdadaanan ko ngayon.

“Mabuti na rin siguro itong mawala ako”

Tumingala ka sa langit at ngumiti habang mga luha'y tuloy-tuloy pa rin ang pag-agos.

“Sorry... Wonwoo”

Akmang isasaksak mo na ang basag na bote ng may biglang umagaw nito sa kamay mo.

“Putangina yn, anong ginagawa mo!”

Nanigas ka sa kinauupuan mo nang marinig ang boses na yun.

“Wonwoo....”

Hinila ka nito palapit sakanya at niyakap ka ng mahigpit. Ramdam mo ang mabilis na tibok ng puso nito. “A-akala ko kung ano na nangyari sayo.”

“Isang linggo kang nawala. Hinahanap kita pati na rin ang mga magulang mo”

“Nag-alala ako sayo”

Nanlaki ang mga mata mo sa mga narinig mo mula sa bibig niya. Hindi ka makapaniwala na maririnig mo ulit yan sa kanya dahil grade 6 ka nung huling marinig mo yan.

Hinarap ako nito at hinawakan ang magkabilang pisngi ko. Titig na titig sayo ang lalaking kaharap mo at mga mata nito'y punong-puno ng pag-aalala.

“Saan ka ba galing ha? pinakaba mo ako.”

“Bakit mo binalak patayin sarili mo?”

“Bakit yn? bakit naabutan kitang handa na kitilin ang sarili mong buhay. paano kapag hindi kita naabutan ha?” malungkot ang himig nito at bakas ang pag-aalala na siya namang pag-iwas ko ng tingin.

“W-wala...”

“P-pagod na akong m-mabuhay”

“Paano naman ako yn? hindi ko alam gagawin ko kung mawala ka”

Ramdam ko ang panginginig at pagbilis ng tikbok ng puso ko dahil sa mga katagang binitawan nito.

“Please yn wag mo na gagawin yon. Mahal kita, ayokong mawala nag-iisa kong bestfriend”

Kung kani-kanina’y nakaramdam ako ng kaunting saya pero agad din naman binawi ito.

Tangina kahit pala mawala ako kaibigan pa rin ang tingin mo sakin

Nanghihina akong sumubsob sa tuhod ko at muling humagulgol. Ramdam ko naman ang mabilis na aksyon ni Wonwoo.

“Y-yn?”

Kinagat ko ang labi ko baka sakaling tumigil ang pagdurugo ng puso ko pero hindi eh.

Si wonwoo to..

mahal ko siya eh...

“U-umiiyak ka ba?”

Nagulat ako ng hinila ako nito at muling hinagkan ng mahigpit

Pinunasan nito ang mga luhang umaagos mula sa mata ko at tinitigan ako nito ng diretso.

“Please wag mo na ulit akong tatakutin...”

Hindi ka na nakasagot dito dahil nanlalambot ka sa mga titig nito. Natawa ka sa isip mo dahil kahit anong nasakit ang gawin sayo ni Wonwoo at the end of the day siya pa rin ang kahinaan mo.

Dahil sa dulot ng alak sayo parang may demonyo ang sumapi sayo ng inilapat mo ang labi mo sa labi ng lalaking kaharap mo.

Para akong sinaksak nang paulit-ulit dahil hindi ito nagre-response sa mga halik ko. Kumirot ang puso ko at nagbabadya na naman ang mga luha ko kaya akma na sana akong tatayo at tatakbo paalis ng bigla akong hiniit at hinalikan nito.

-

Hindi ko alam kung paano kami nakapunta sa sasakyan niya pero heto kaming dalawa pinagpi-pyestahan ang katawan ng isa’t isa.

Kanina lamang ay sobrang sakit ng puso ko at para na akong mamatay dito ngayon naman nangingibawbaw na ang sarap. Kasalukuyan nitong hinahalikan ang baba ko kaya hindi ko mapigilan ang pag-ungol at ang pagdiin ng kamay ko sa buhok niya upang mas lalo pang lumalim ang marating ng dila nito.

“O-oh my god”

“Lalabasan na ata ako Wonu” kahit na hirap na hirap ako nagawa ko pa ring sabihin sakanya yon

Hindi siya nagsalita at bagkus para na akong mababaliw dahil mas lumalim pa at pinasok pa nito ang dalawang daliri sa ari ko. Hindi rin nagtagal ay nakaramdam na akong likidong lumalabas mula sa ari ko.

Kitang-kita ko ang pamumungay ng mga mata ni Wonwoo.

“You taste so good, fuck”

Masisira ko na ata ang backrest ng upuan na to dahil sa malagkit na pagtitig nito sakin. Hindi na nito sinayag ang oras at inutusan ako na pumwesto sa backseat. Maya-maya lang din ay nakapatong na siya sakin.

Napasigaw ako ng makaramdam ako na parang pinupunit ang ari ko. Fuck first time ko lang to at ang laki pala ng ari niya!

“Shit, virgin ka? fuck”

“Tell me if itutuloy ko pa ba o hindi. Ayokong gawin to sayo lalo na’t lasing ka”

Ramdam ko ang pag-aalala sa boses nito “Hindi ako lasing Wonu. You have my permission”

“You can fuck me in every possible way”

Pagtapos ko sabihin iyon ay binaon na ni Wonu ang ari niya sa loob ko kaya’t napasigaw ako at medyo naluha dahil sobrang sakit.

Imbis na magsalita ay binigyan lamang ako ni Wonu ng mababaw na halik hanggang sa maging malagkit ito at nagsimula na rin itong bumayo.

Para akong mababaliw

Para akong nasa langit

Sa hindi malamang dahilan bigla ko na lamang nasabi ang mga katagang ito habang bumabayo ito sa ibabaw ko at napapaungol.

“A-aahhh ang sikip mo kingina”

“I love you, Wonwoo”

Pero wala kang narinig dito at patuloy pa rin ito sa pagbayo sayo. Kaya para kang maiiyak ulit dahil kahit anong gawin mo hindi ka talaga pinapakinggan ng mundo.

Hinayaan mo na lang na may tumakas na mga luha sa mata mo at nagpanggap na lamang na naiiyak sa sarap kahit na totoo’y nasasaktan ka na hinayaan mo na lang itong gamitin ka. Napakagat ka na lang sa labi at pumikit.

Libo-libong mga boses na ang bumubulong sayo na tama na. Hindi talaga kayo tinadhanan para sa isa’t isa.

Tama na kasi mas lalo ka lang nahuhulog sa mga patibong nito at baka hindi ka na makabangon pa sa sakit.

Hindi mo na namalayan na nilabasan na pala siya at sumalampak sa tabi mo, naghahabol ng hininga.

“Shit that was so fucking hot”

"I'm hoping we don't get awkward after this, yn, since you're my friend."

Napatawa ka na lang at inayos ang sarili. “Of course not,”

“Sige na Wonu, uuwi na ako”

Hindi ko na siya hinintay pa at tumakbo na ako palabas sa sasakyan niya.

Sa gabing ito hindi ko alam kung may mas sasakit pa sa nararamdaman ko eh

Nagpakatanga ako sa kanya at hinayaan na may mangyari samin.

Hindi ko alam kung makakabangon pa ako sa sakit na to.

Binigay ko na lahat kahit pa katawan ko’y binigay ko na rin sa kanya

Nag confessed na ako pero tila naging bingi ito sa oras na yon

Lahat ginawa ko para sa kanya pero sa huli ako pa rin itong uuwing sugatan. Hindi ko na maipalawinag nararamdaman ko dahil sakit at kirot ang nangingibabaw sa puso ko.

Mahal na mahal kita Wonwoo.

At hindi ko na yata to kaya…

[angeart]

ask game 12 &13!

yayy more questions! okay i'll start with 13 because it's simpler:

13.Any segment of your work that made you cry while writing it? (because it moved you deeply)

so. i cry easily. but i don't tend to cry while writing, i think? i don't have the greatest memory, so i can't be sure. i remember one time i cried while writing hmtb, but it wasn't because i was moved deeply jcnbjk (it was actually a mellow scene and i just. unexpectedly triggered an unpleasant memory, oops.)

in a way, i think it's easier to get emotional while working on RPs, actually. i might've cried at those in the past, mmh.

now, if you asked me when did i get anxious while writing. that's a whole another thing. i do deal with a lot of heavy emotions in writing, and, yeah. anyway, the answer is yesterday. (hmtb grian is doing perfectly well wdym-) (i had to stop writing after 8 sentences and take a break everything's fine-)

12.Funniest comment you've ever gotten in a piece of work?

this is a fun one! i don't think i have a favourite, i'm not the best with putting things on a scale and deciding that's the most this or that. add my bad memory into the mix, and about a year of writing a multichapter fic, and- well. but! i dug through and made a small collection of comments that amuse me! (there were many more, but i'm trying not to swarm you completely.)

i cannot tell you how much i appreciate and value the comments i get. i read every single one, and they matter a lot! they help me immensely and i am insanely grateful for them. <33

anyway, the collection of comments that make me giggle is under the line!

♥ please, consider this a love letter to all the commenters. ♥

Chocolate_Cake_Enthusiast on Chapter 3 of Elegy: ANGE UOU ARE THE SINGULAR SOURCE OF MY ANGST AND DEPRESSION (…) POOR GRIAN HE BETTER BE ALRIGHT OTHERWISE I WILL CHUCK A TENNIS BALL AT MY TOE

-

ghostpi on Chapter 7 of hmtb: TIS BUT A FLESH WOUND.

-

Eucalypta on Chapter 18 of hmtb: I forgot this had a ship tag so I was reading all previous chapters like: "what deep soulmates they are! Wait … Thats a bit gay. Well sometimes platonic love goes very dee- No thats definitely gay… What were the tags again?"

-

Tiand on Chapter 21 of hmtb: So- uh- Where can I send my therapy bill?

-

wimrow on Chapter 26 of hmtb: WOOOOO I DONT FEWL LIKE SOBBING WITJ THIS CHAPTER!!!!!! (this will absolutely change later on won’t it)

-

genderfluid_bitch on Chapter 29: *does a little jig* THE BABIES ARE HURTING AGAIN

-

Amabsis on Chapter 30 of hmtb: “Grian, are you okay?” NOBODY IS OKAY IMPULSESV!!!

-

Chat on Chapter 31 of hmtb: THATS A BRILLIANT WAY TO END A CHAPTER BUT OH MY FUCKERY ARE YOU CRUEL FOR IT.

-

peskytimes on Chapter 39 of hmtb: everytime i read this fic my mental state gets worse <33 /pos

-

Alcea_42 on Chapter 42 of hmtb: so sometimes 42 doesn't solve everything-

-

Holly_Loves_Reading on Chapter 46 of hmtb: Oh my god they’re so cute! Not even a little bit healthy, but so cute!

-

Pidgey05 on Chapter 47 of hmtb: Omg 200k words of pain and now finnally some fluff T^T it was so beautiful thank you author, for this gift 🤣

-

SongbirdQuela on Chapter 48 of hmtb: Everything’s going so well! Oh jee wiz I hope nothing goes incredibly wrong, boy would that be a rollercoaster, oh golly I can’t wait to see absolutely none of the characters doing anything self destructive!

-

Heartpaw on Chapter 48 of hmtb: “Did you two have a romp?” Says you. Your the one not wearing you own pants. Are you sure YOU didn’t have a romp

--

also have a kiss collection of you guys going insane <33

The_Pesky_Crow on Chapter 28 of hmtb: 12 Chapters from now, in a land far far away, the Grain kisses the Scar

-

Linkito on Chapter 41 of hmtb: I absolutely cannot believe that I binged this FORTY ONE chapter fic of A HUNDRED AND SIXTY THOUSAND WORDS and these idiots haven't kissed. Unbelievable. You're taking slow burn to a whole new level bless you and also I hate you LMAO

-

Bones_exe on Chapter 44 of hmtb: I'm going to be a crinkly old man by the time these two smooch huh?

-

Chocolate_Cake_Enthusiast on Chapter 44 of hmtb: JUST KISS ALREADY. PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. PLEASE JUST KISS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-

Xanadu:Wynter on Chapter 45 of hmtb: PLEASE JUST ONE KISS

-

Bioluminescence on Chapter 45 of hmtb: I THOUGHT THEY WERE GOING TO KISS I WAS HOLDING MY BREATH AND THEN THEY DIDN'T this is honestly so predictable of you though smh

--

and some bonus screenshot stuff <3 (first two from elegy, the rest is hmtb)

(in the one below you can see a beautiful duality of comments /pos)

i hope that was fun. i had fun putting this together <3

love you guys!!

----- questions from >>this ask game<<

[marie-swriting]

Magnifique - Derek Morgan

Masterlist

Résumé : Tu as du mal à aimer ton corps.

Warnings : problème lié à l'image de soi (⚠️s'il vous plaît, ne lisez pas, si c'est un sujet sensible pour vous), Trouble du Comportement Alimentaire sous-entendu (⚠️s'il vous plaît, ne lisez pas, si c'est un sujet sensible pour vous), angst, hurt/comfort, whump, dites-moi si j'en ai loupés d'autres.

Nombre de mots : 3.3k

Version anglaise

Chanson qui m'a inspiré : Body par Julia Michaels

Dans une cabine d’essayage, tu regardes le reflet de ton corps dans une robe rouge. Tu te regardes sous toutes les coutures et tu vois seulement les défauts. Pour toi, la robe ne flatte pas ta silhouette alors que Derek t’a assuré que ça serait le cas. Tu n’aimes pas le décolleté, il ne met pas ta poitrine en valeur. Tu n'aimes pas la façon dont ton ventre est visible à travers le tissu. Et enfin, tu n’aimes pas la façon dont on peut voir tes jambes à cause de la petite taille de la robe. Tu tires un peu sur le bas de la robe, espérant la rendre plus longue alors qu’une remarque d’un ex résonne dans ta tête. Tu continues à examiner chaque centimètre de ton corps dans le miroir jusqu’à ce que te tordre. Tu finis par soupirer, comprenant que ton corps n’est pas fait pour cette robe. Tu as l’impression que ton corps n’est pas fait pour beaucoup de vêtements et ça a le don de te faire souffrir. 

-Tu es prête, mon ange ? questionne Derek, à l’extérieur de la cabine.

-Euh, oui. 

Avec appréhension, tu ouvres le rideau et Derek ne dit rien pendant une seconde, te regardant de haut en bas. Son silence te rend un peu plus nerveuse et te convainc que tu devrais enlever cette robe tout de suite. 

-Tu es magnifique, Y/N, complimente-t-il avec un sourire.

-Je ne trouve pas, secoues-tu la tête en regardant à nouveau ton reflet. 

-Tu rigoles ? Tu es super belle.

-Je ne sais pas. Regarde mon ventre ! t’exclames-tu en montrant la partie de ton corps. Et la robe ne met pas mes jambes en valeur non plus. Et puis, je la trouve courte. 

-Elle est à peine à mi-cuisse. Et elle te va parfaitement bien.

-Je ne sais pas… 

Comme pour te rassurer, Derek pose ses mains sur tes épaules et embrasse ton front.

-Je te promets que tu es incroyable dans cette robe, t’assure-t-il et tu forces un sourire. Tu devrais la prendre et si vraiment tu trouves qu’elle ne te plait pas, tu peux toujours la changer. Allez, je te l’offre, annonce Derek, content.

-Derek, tu n’as pas…

-Ha, ha…, t’interrompt-il en bougeant son index de gauche à droite. Je te l’offre, ça fera pour notre restaurant de la semaine prochaine. Et puis, on a pas pu être souvent ensemble ces derniers temps, je te dois bien ça.

-Tu sais que tu n’as pas à te faire pardonner pour ton travail, affirmes-tu en prenant sa main.

-Alors, vois ça comme un cadeau parce que je t’aime. Tu veux essayer autre chose ?

-Non, déclares-tu sans perdre une seconde. Je vais me changer.

Tu refermes le rideau et commences à te déshabiller sans trop t’attarder sur ton reflet. Quand tu as fini, tu sors de la cabine et vois une femme légèrement plus jeune que toi dans la même robe. Malgré toi, tu penses qu’elle lui va mieux. La robe épouse parfaitement ces courbes et tu trouves la femme magnifique. En la regardant, tu te dis que tu aimerais être comme elle. 

Après avoir payé la robe, vous retournez dans ton appartement. Tout le chemin, tu restes silencieuse, perdue dans tes pensées nourries par les différentes remarques que tu as pu entendre au cours de ta vie. Derek remarque ton mutisme tout de suite. Il ne te questionne pas, sachant que tu risques de te braquer. Malgré le fait que vous êtes ensemble depuis un an, tu as encore du mal à venir vers lui quand tu en as besoin. C’est une des choses sur laquelle vous travaillez. Tu fais des efforts depuis votre rencontre, mais parfois, tu continues à t’isoler.

Quand vous arrivez chez toi, tu poses tes affaires avant d’informer que tu souhaites être dans une tenue plus confortable. Derek s’installe sur ton lit pendant que tu te changes. 

Dans ta salle de bain, tu regardes ton reflet alors que tu es en sous-vêtements. Quand tu sens tes pensées négatives devenir un peu plus fortes, tu tournes le dos à ton miroir et continues de te changer. Même pour enlever ton maquillage, tu ne te regardes pas. 

Une fois finie, tu t’allonges à côté de Derek. Instantanément, il te prend dans ses bras avant d’embrasser le haut de ton crâne.

-Tout va bien ?

-Oui. Je suis juste un peu fatiguée, mens-tu en écoutant les battements de son coeur. 

-Tu es sûre ?

-Promis, affirmes-tu en l’embrassant chastement. Tu peux dormir ici ce soir ? J’aimerais rester dans tes bras.

-Bien sûr.

Ta demande est tout ce dont Derek a besoin pour savoir que tu ne vas pas bien. Derek a beau encore ignorer la raison, ce n'est qu'une question de temps avant qu'il la trouve. Il te connait assez bien pour savoir la façon dont tu agis quand tu ne vas pas bien sans que tu aies besoin de prononcer un mot. Toutefois, à cet instant, il préfère te serrer un peu plus contre lui, voulant t’apporter le réconfort dont tu as secrètement besoin.

Tu pensais que dans quelques jours, tu irais mieux. Tu as souvent des phases où tu détestes ton corps plus que d’habitude, mais celle-ci est tenace. Tu n’es à l’aise dans aucun de tes vêtements, tu te sens moche et tu n’arrives pas à apprécier ce que tu manges. Tout est horrible et tu veux juste te morfondre dans ton lit et ne plus jamais sortir. 

Malheureusement pour toi, tu dois aller à ton rendez-vous avec Derek. Avec le peu de force que tu as, tu arrives à sortir de ton lit. 

Après avoir pris une douche, tu ouvres ton placard. Tu fais défiler les différents vêtements, sans grande volonté. Quand tu tombes sur la robe que Derek t’a offerte, tu hésites entre la porter ou la brûler. Tu sais que ça lui ferait plaisir de te voir avec, mais tu n’es toujours pas convaincue. À contrecoeur, tu prends le cintre avant d’enfiler la robe, espérant que cette fois, tu vois ce que Derek a vu. 

Tu ajustes la robe comme il faut et tu te regardes dans le miroir de ta chambre. Tu as toujours la même vision : seulement des défauts. En continuant à examiner ton reflet, tes yeux se remplissent de larmes alors que dans ta tête, les phrases telles que  : “tu n’es pas belle”, “tu ressembles à rien” et autre horreur ne cessent de tourner. 

Les larmes te montent de plus en plus aux yeux et tu te refuses de pleurer. Tu ne peux pas craquer ce soir. Tu dois passer la soirée avec Derek. Tes démons doivent attendre un peu plus longtemps. Tu prends de profondes inspirations et quand tu es sûre que tu n’es plus sur le point de pleurer, tu prends ton maquillage. Tu as espoir qu’embellir ton visage t’aidera. Peut-être que ça peut rattraper ta tenue. De plus, le fait de te pomponner t’aide parfois à te sentir un peu mieux - même si ce n’est pas une solution miracle. Cependant, cette fois, ton humeur s’empire. Les cernes sous tes yeux se moquent de toi alors que tu essayes de les couvrir et les quelques boutons sur ton visage n’arrangent pas la situation.

Tu essayes de camoufler tes défauts un maximum en te disant que ceux-là, tu peux t’en débarrasser pendant au moins quelques heures. Quand tu es plus ou moins satisfaite du résultat, tu retournes vers ton miroir pour vérifier que tu es à peu près présentable. 

Malgré ton maquillage, tu ne trouves pas mieux. Ta robe est toujours ridicule et tu as beau essayer de rajouter des accessoires, tu ne te trouves toujours pas belle. Agacée, tu finis par enlever la robe et tu retournes dans ton placard. Tu es dans la même situation qu’au début.

En regardant à nouveau tes robes, tu réalises qu’il n’y a pas ta robe blanche. C’est une robe simpliste mais dans laquelle tu te sens à l’aise. Tu as une idée d’où elle pourrait être alors tu vas dans ta buanderie, en te maudissant. Quand tu découvres que ta robe est bien dans la machine qui est en train de tourner, tu t’assoies par terre en étouffant un cri. Tu n’as plus de solution de repli et il est hors de question que tu mettes ta nouvelle robe. Te sentant dans une impasse, tes larmes reviennent tout aussitôt. Cette fois, tu n’as pas la force de les retenir. Elles coulent librement sur tes joues, ruinant ton maquillage par la même occasion. Tu pleures pendant une dizaine de minutes, tu n’oses même pas imaginer ce à quoi tu dois ressembler. Quand tu es un peu plus calme, même si quelques larmes continuent de couler, tu retournes dans ta chambre et prends ton téléphone.

Message de toi à Derek, 18h58 : 

Je viens d’avoir mes règles, je ne me sens pas d’aller au restaurant. Ça te dérange si on annule ?

Message de Derek à toi, 18h59 : 

Pas de soucis. Tu as besoin que je t’apporte quelque chose ? Je peux rester avec toi, si tu veux. 

Message de toi à Derek, 19h01 : 

Pas besoin. J’ai tout ce qu’il faut. Désolée de t’avoir prévenu à la dernière minute.

Message de Derek à toi, 19h02 : 

Ne t’excuse pas, repose toi. Je t’aime ❤️

Tu réponds à son “je t’aime” avant de poser ton téléphone sur ta table de nuit. Tu enfiles rapidement un jogging et ton sweat préféré puis, tu quittes ta chambre. 

Dans ta cuisine, tu prends plusieurs snacks et tu t’installes dans ton salon. Tu lances la première série que Netflix te propose. Tu regardes les épisodes sans y prêter attention pendant que tu manges des chips. Sans surprise, tu as l’impression de t’enfoncer un peu plus dans ta spirale. Tu pourrais être dans un restaurant chic avec ton petit ami et tu es dans ton salon en sweat à grignoter. 

La culpabilité te ronge quand tu penses à Derek. Tu t’en veux de lui avoir menti, surtout quand il fait autant attention à toi, mais tu n’as pas la force morale de quitter ton appartement. 

Tu finis par fondre en larmes à nouveau, détestant la phase dans laquelle tu es. Tu te sens somber et au lieu d’essayer de remonter à la surface, tu te laisses couler dans ce sentiment de vide. 

Trois semaines plus tard, tu es toujours misérable et tu n’as toujours pas osé en parler à Derek. Une partie de toi aimerait lui parler de tout ce que tu ressens et une autre veut pouvoir réussir à t’en sortir sans son aide. Tu peux le faire, tu y arrivais bien avant de le rencontrer. Tu peux le refaire. Par conséquent, quand Derek rentre d’une enquête, tu fais tout ton possible pour ne pas montrer ton mal être. Tu sais que c’est un jeu compliqué, ses capacités de profiler vont te battre en un rien de temps, mais tu ne veux pas l’embarraser avec tes démons. 

Bien évidemment, Derek sait ce qu’il se passe. Ses sens sont en alerte depuis l’achat de la robe et il n’a pas besoin d’être un profiler pour savoir que tu ne vas pas bien. Il te connait par coeur. Il attend juste le bon moment pour t’en parler, malheureusement avec son travail, ce moment a été repoussé plusieurs fois. 

Cependant, ce soir-là, il est décidé : il va te parler. Il ne peut pas continuer à rester silencieux en sachant très bien que tu n’es pas près de venir vers lui. Avant de t’inviter à te confier à lui, il veut te mettre à l’aise en te proposant une sortie agréable. Il a prévu un cinéma puis un repas à emporter chez toi. Il préfère finir la soirée chez toi, voulant s’assurer que tu sois dans un environnement où tu te sens bien.

Quand Derek arrive chez toi, tu es en train de finir ton maquillage. Il te lance un compliment que tu ne prends pas au sérieux. Il te regarde te préparer depuis ton lit. Il voit tes mouvements hésitants quand tu regardes avec plus d’attention ton reflet. Enfin, ton silence lui donne un indice en plus. En temps normal, vous n’arrêtez pas de discuter, surtout quand vous n’avez pas pu vous voir pendant plus d’une semaine à cause d’une enquête. 

Tu ouvres ton placard et commences à faire défiler les vêtements. Quand tu ne t’es toujours pas décidée cinq minutes plus tard, Derek se lève et te rejoint. 

-Pourquoi tu ne mets pas la robe rouge ? demande-t-il en pointant le vêtement en question. 

-C’est pas un peu trop habillé pour un cinéma ? 

-Pas forcément. 

-Je pensais mettre ma robe blanche, dévoiles-tu en la prenant.

-Mon ange, tu es magnifique dans cette robe, mais tu la mets souvent. Tu as plein de vêtements qui te vont très bien. Tu devrais changer.  

Tu pèses rapidement le pour et le contre, te rappelant très bien de ta réaction la dernière fois que tu as voulu mettre ta nouvelle robe. Finalement, tu forces un sourire et la prends.

-C’est vrai. Je vais mettre la rouge. 

Au même moment où tu es sur le point de te changer, le téléphone de Derek sonne. Il sort de ta chambre pour aller le chercher dans l’entrée. Pendant ce temps, tu sors la robe du cintre et tu l’enfiles. Tu lisses ta robe de tes mains puis, tu jetes un coup d'œil au miroir. Instantanément, les larmes te montent de nouveau aux yeux.

Contrairement à la dernière fois, tu te retiens de pleurer. Derek est juste dans la pièce à côté, il ne peut pas te voir dans cet état. Toutefois, tu n’as pas le temps de calmer tes émotions que Derek revient dans ta chambre. En te voyant pleurer, Derek te prend tout de suite dans ses bras. Tu sanglotes pendant plusieurs minutes alors que Derek caresse ton dos, espérant calmer tes pleurs. Quand il juge que tu es apte à parler, il pose ses mains de part et d’autre de ton visage pour pouvoir te regarder.

-Parle-moi. Qu’est-ce qui ne va pas ?

-Je…, bégayes-tu avant de secouer la tête, c’est ridicule.

-Tu sais très bien que si ça te met dans cet état, ce n’est pas ridicule. Parle-moi, répète Derek sur un ton doux et tu pousses un soupir. 

-C’est juste que je n’aime pas ma tenue. Je t’ai dit, c’est ridicule de pleurer pour ça, te lamentes-tu en le voyant froncer les sourcils. Je n’arrive pas à me sentir bien cette robe hideuse. Je me trouve moche dans cette robe, avoues-tu en évitant ses yeux.

-Pourquoi tu parles de toi comme ça ?

-Je ne sais pas. J’arrive juste pas à me sentir bien dans cette robe, répètes-tu d’une voix plus faible. Je ne comprends pas comment tu peux me trouver belle avec. 

-Ce n’est pas qu’à propos de la robe, n’est-ce pas ? s’enquiert-il, connaissant la réponse.

-Ma relation avec mon corps a toujours été compliquée, tu le sais, mais ces derniers temps, je me sens vraiment comme une merde, confesses-tu, tes lèvres tremblant. Je ne me sens pas bien dans mon corps, aucun de mes vêtements ne me va, je peux à peine me regarder dans le miroir et je me sens moche. 

Au fil de tes phrases, ta respiration devient de plus en plus saccadée. Derek essuie les quelques larmes qui ont coulé sur tes joues. Tu n’avais même pas senti que tu avais commencé à pleurer. Derek est sur le point de te répondre quand tu le devances : 

-Je sais que tu vas me dire le contraire, que tu vas me dire que tout ça, c’est dans ma tête, mais je ne peux m’en empêcher. Je te jure que j’aimerais me regarder dans le miroir et dire que je suis belle comme tu le fais, mais je ne vois pas ce que tu vois. Je veux aimer mon corps comme toi tu l’aimes, je te jure, je veux réellement m’aimer, mais ça semble impossible. Je ne peux pas penser une chose positive sur moi, murmures-tu, ta voix se brisant. À chaque fois que je pense que je vais un peu mieux, je me rappelle de toutes les remarques qu’on a pu me faire, que ce soit des exs, des amis ou même ma famille, et c’est retour à la case départ, informes-tu en tentant de sécher tes larmes, en vain. Et peu importe le nombre de fois où tu me complimentes, j’arrive pas à te croire. Je sais que tu es sincère, mais je n’y arrive pas. J’ai juste l’impression que tous les mots que tu me dis sont des mensonges pour essayer de me faire sentir mieux. Ce n’est pas la vérité, et d’une certaine façon, j’en suis consciente, c’est juste plus fort que moi. J’ai l’impression que je suis vouée à toujours détester mon corps et…, continues-tu en prenant une grande inspiration, ça me fait peur. Je ne veux pas continuer à ressentir tout ça. Je ne sais pas quoi faire.

Les gestes étant plus forts que les mots, Derek te serre de nouveau contre lui. Ce n’est pas la première fois que tu fonds en larmes devant lui, cela n’empêche pas que son cœur se fend en t’écoutant déverser tout ton mal être. Tu caches ton visage dans le creux de son cou, te sentant honteuse d’être aussi vulnérable.

-Je suis désolée, on est en retard pour le film à cause de moi, articules-tu contre son torse. 

-On peut toujours aller le voir un autre jour. Ce n’est pas grave, t’assure Derek en embrassant ton crâne.

-Le fait est que ce n'est pas la soirée que tu avais en tête. Désolée. 

-Tu n’as pas à t’excuser parce que tu ne te sens pas bien.

- Je sais, mais c’est la deuxième fois qu’on annule nos plans à cause de moi. 

-Tu parles du restau ? Tu avais tes règles, ce n'est pas de ta faute.

Suite à la phrase de Derek, la culpabilité vient s’ajouter à tes autres émotions. Tu te sépares de lui et tu poses ton regard sur tes mains, jouant avec tes ongles nerveusement. 

-Je t’ai menti, en fait. J’avais mis cette robe pour te faire plaisir et j’ai fini dans le même état. J’ai préféré annuler plutôt que te parler. Je suis désolée, je t’avais promis que je ferais des efforts, dis-tu en relevant les yeux sur lui. J’ai juste tellement peur d’être un fardeau pour toi. Je ne veux pas que tu te lasses de moi parce que je ne vais pas bien mentalement. Je sais toujours pas comment j’ai fait pour t’avoir et je ne veux pas te perdre à cause de ça. Et puis, je veux pouvoir me débrouiller seule… Enfin, on voit comment ça marche ! t’exclames-tu en roulant des yeux. Je comprendrais si tu voulais partir.

-Hey, je ne vais pas te laisser alors que tu as besoin de moi, affirme Derek en posant une main sur ta joue. Écoute, je ne peux pas imaginer tout ce que tu ressens, mais je resterai toujours à tes côtés, surtout quand ça va mal. Et s’il faut que je te répète chaque seconde que tu es magnifique jusqu’à ce que tu me croies, je le ferai. Toutefois, je pense que ça pourrait t’aider si tu en parlais avec un professionnel. 

-Probablement, finis-tu par concéder. Tu m’accompagnerais ? Au moins à la première séance, j’aurai besoin de soutien.

-Avec plaisir. Je viendrai avec toi à autant de séances que tu veux, accepte Derek avec un sourire réconfortant. 

Tu es consciente de tout le chemin qu’il te reste à faire avant de pouvoir t’aimer, mais tu as réussi à faire le premier pas. 

Pour la première fois depuis plusieurs semaines, tu lâches un soupir de soulagement. Tu embrasses chastement Derek puis, tu t’appuyes à nouveau contre son corps, ses bras te protégeant de tes démons.

Masterlist

{Ceci est mon blog secondaire donc je répondrai aux commentaires sous le pseudo @marie-sworld}

[writers-ex]

hi you're back!! idk what happened, i don't wanna know as well but i'm sending you a huuug 💗 and hopefully you saw my ask about how to deal with nosy anons and found it helpful for you 💗

in celebration of me getting closer to finishing my backlogs (and claiming that I get all of it done today whew): a request! the one with the song stuff hihihi although i'll let you choose between two because i have lss from a lot of songs these days 🤧

A. Fluff!

song: I Feel Good by BINI

lyrics: *those in bold aren't sung in English*

"I feel good everytime that I'm with you, my eyes won't stray from you oh, oh, don't ever wanna part, even if I'll have to wait for you forever. Oh wait! turns out I can't wait anymore, I'm so eager for your love, and all emotions start to get real oh boy I love how you make me feel. It feels unbelievable, Cupid shot me, whenever you're there everything feels lighter yeah yeah"

idk but this song (and mv phew - it's a feast for my eyes lmao) is so colorful and fun it makes me feel like i'm also in love 😅

B. Angst :(

songs: Maharani (Great Queen)by Alamat and Hanggang Sa Huli (Until the End) by SB19

lyrics:

Maharani - "he doesn't understand what he's wasting, while I'm over here just waiting, like your numerous other suitors by the sides, I promise I'm not going crazy, you're my only Great Queen - will you give me a chance, if ever I might attain your love? Queen, let me be your King, I swear to god I'll never get tired of you, Great Queen"

Hanggang Sa Huli - "if our paths cross, then we're meant to be. Had I said everything then, would things be different now? With every breath, I pray that I could be with you. And if this is our last moment together, I want you to know that I love you, I love you, I love you"

okii I'm leaving it in your hands, hope you feel the vibe of the songs and get those creative juices flowing ang and and have fun with whichever prompt you wanna do!! don't forget to eat well todayyy 💗

- 😚

ok the girls in the MV are so cute and this at home arts and crafts vibe is so cute uwu so i thought of doing domestic things with lia bc yes like its a rainy day and you're both stuck at home so what better thing to do than use the paint set you bought a while ago and paint your jeans together to match each other while lia attempts to bake some cupcakes to watch a movie together however you panic and almost spill paint on the couch when you hear her cry out, running to the kitchen yuo see her sucking her finger that she managed to burn taking out the cupcake pan from the oven without gloves T_T so you kiss and wrap her boo-boo and start scolding her when she cheers and points out the window to show that the rain has stopped and a rainbow graces your window making you look at your shy girlfriend smiling before pulling each other into a soft kiss whispering how much you loved each other

the angst- its a bit dark for even my standards the mv actually made me think of arriving too late to stop yeji from leaving the office after your heated argument about a project you were both working on, she storms out furious and heads home but turns around to hear you calling out to her and…fails to notice the car turning the corner and hitting her, screaming you rush over to her bleeding body her face frozen in shock as the color drains from her face as she stares into your eyes, you plead and beg for her to hang on but its too late she can't hear your apologizes and i love yous as her body goes limp leaving you at the crossroad while the ambulance drives over too late T^T damn now im sad

[jessybarnes]

Golden Lines - Chapter Five - Insatiable Desires

Pairings: Chris Evans x OFC Jessica Anderson, Chris Evans x OFC Lily Stan, Sebastian Stan x OFC Jessica Anderson, Tom Hiddleston x OFC Ang DiLorenza 

Chapter Five Characters: Chris Evans, Sebastian Stan, Tom Hiddleston, OFC Jessica Anderson, OFC Lily Stan, OFC Ang DiLorenza, OFC Amanda Evans (mentioned), OFC Mrs. Stevens, OMC Dean Wesson, OMC Sam Hammond, OMC Steve Hammond, OMC Scott Leighton, OMC Tommy King, Diana Hiddleston (Tom's Mom: mentioned), Scott Evans (mentioned), Carly Evans (mentioned), Shanna Evans (mentioned), Lisa Capuano (Chris’s Mom: mentioned), G. Robert Evans III (Chris’s Dad: mentioned), Georgeta Orlovschi (Sebastian’s Mom: mentioned), OFC Shayly Andrews (mentioned), OMC Jameson Andrews (mentioned), and Dodger

Chapter Five Rating: Explicit 18+

Chapter Five Tags: **** PLEASE READ ALL WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER BEFORE CONTINUING!!!! **** SMUT, NSFW title card, angst, fluff, teacher/student relationships, anxiety, drinking, underage drinking, nervousness, mentions of past trauma (specifically the following: injury to hand, physical abuse, sexual abuse, and mental abuse), mentions of shitty parents (specifically dead beat fathers), pining, blindfolds, skydiving, airplanes, flying, heights, free falling, vomiting, kissing, nipple play, oral (male receiving), deep throating, face fucking, cum swallowing, overstimulation, dry humping, clit play, fingering, finger fucking, squirting, dirty talk, a tiny instance of dom/sub (if you squint), praise kink, begging, finger sucking, oral (female receiving), jacking off, lying, crying, self-esteem/self-worth issues, bed sharing, explicit sexual content, explicit language, and I think I've covered everything… PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE BEFORE STARTING THIS CHAPTER! 

Chapter Five Word Count: 11,289 (GOOD LORD… This got away from me...grab a snack and a beverage, folks. Lol.)

Chapter Five Betas: T. Thompson and A. DiLorenza 

Chapter Five Mini Title Card: Yours Truly

A/N: There are mentions of past physical, sexual, and mental abuse (as I stated above in the tags), and I've written this so if there are readers who need to skip that part, they can. There are asterisks that indicate where that part starts and ends if anyone needs to skip it! You won't miss anything if you do, I promise. ❤

The rest of the school week seems to drag itself out. Lily and Ang walk to Art class together, their finished assignments in hand. Angie is quiet, a little too quiet, and Lily immediately picks up on it. "Hey, babe. You good?" 

She bites her lip nervously and glances over to her friend. "I'm scared, Lil. What if he doesn't like it?" 

They walk into the classroom and take a seat at their normal table. "He's gonna love it, Ang. Tom's very much into art, at least, that's what Seb told me once." 

She cocks her head to the side, "I just realized I never knew his first name until now. Tom is a fitting name, it suits him." 

"Alright, class everyone settle down. I know all of you are excited for the weekend," Ang and Lily smirk at each other knowingly, "but we've still got an hour of school left. Everyone take out your finished pieces and have them ready for me to look at. I'll be walking around the room to give you a final grade." 

Lily carefully unwraps her watercolor painting and sets it on the table. She wasn't sure what she was going to paint at first, but then she got to thinking about her Mom. Sebastian was only five when his Father left. He didn't have many memories of him, but he remembered the day he and their Mom were left alone, vividly. 

Sebastian had told Lily the story on one of their movie nights and it's stuck with her ever since. He said that he had heard his Father yelling at their Mom, but he couldn't recall what he was angry about. He ran outside and followed him to his car, and shoved his hand in the door as it was being pulled closed. It smashed his fingers between the door and where it connected to the car. Sebastian told Lily that he did it because he thought that if his Father saw that he was hurt then he'd take him to the hospital and the doctor would say that he had to stay and take care of him. Instead, he watched him drive away. Seb chased the car, but was picked up by their Mom so she could wipe his tears and bandage his mangled hand. 

Lily hasn't met her Father either, nor does she want to. Georgeta, their Mother, gives them everything they need. Sebastian was twenty when she was born, and helped take care of her as if she were his own and not his half sister. Their Mom is the strongest woman she's ever known. She always puts her and her brother first and never hesitates to go without just so they can be taken care of. 

So, it's only fitting to dedicate her first watercolor painting to their Mom. It's of one of her favorite vacation spots. Lily remembers being a little girl, probably around ten, and going on vacation with her there. It was right around sunset, the reds, oranges, yellows, and pinks blanketed across the sky accenting with the mountain in the distance perfectly. 

Painting it from memory was hard, but once she was finished it turned out to be the best one she's ever done. 

Angie finishes unwrapping hers and gasps, "Lil! Oh, my god! That's beautiful!" 

She smiles sheepishly, "not as beautiful as yours, love. Mr. H will probably cry when he sees that. I mean, for real though, that drawing should be in a museum." 

Angie laughs and beams at her. "Only if your masterpiece is displayed right next to it!" 

Mrs. Stevens makes her way over to their table and smiles as she looks over Lily's shoulder. "Ms. Stan, this is stunning! These watercolors are blended perfectly and the highlight on the mountain is beautifully done! You deserve an A." 

"Thank you, Mrs. Stevens," Lily grins and watches as she moves over to look at Angie's. 

"Oh… Oh, my goodness. Ms. DiLorenza this is breathtaking! The shading is impeccable and the blending is just the right amount. An A for you as well. The two of you are incredible artists! Mr. Hiddleston will surely appreciate this. Would you like to take it to him now? I don't believe he has a class." 

Angie wrings her hands nervously, "I-I don't know. I'm kind of scared. What if he doesn't like it?" 

Mrs. Stevens shakes her head. "Nonsense, dear. How about this? How about I call him down here. You can step out into the hallway for a bit of privacy, but you'll still be within earshot of the class. Sound good?" 

Angie nodded. "Alright, it's settled." 

A few minutes later she hears the familiar deep voice that she loves so much. She steals a quick glance and sees him standing just outside the doorway with her art teacher. He meets her eyes and she quickly looks away pulling her lip between her teeth. The sound of Mrs. Stevens' high heels click against the floor and stop just shy of their table. "He's waiting outside, dear. I'll be at my desk should you need me." 

Angie takes a deep breath and stands up. Lily squeezes her hand for reassurance as she holds the drawing in the other. "You've got this, babe!" 

Ang nods and slowly walks across the room to the door. She rounds the corner, holding the picture close to her chest as she looks up at him. 

"Hi." 

Even that one word sounds weak, but if Tom notices he doesn't point it out. "Hi, Ang. It's good to see you again." His accent sends a wave of arousal straight to her core. "I understand you have something for me?" 

Angie looks down at the drawing clutched in her hands. "Well, I-I um…Mrs. Stevens… we-" 

Tom places a warm hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, darling," he whispers. "Take your time." 

Angie licks her lips, "our first assignment was to um...to create whatever we wanted. I wasn't-," she shifts her weight anxiously, "wasn't sure what to make so I just kind of zoned out a-and let my pencil have a mind of its own." Without making eye contact with him she holds the canvas out so he can take it. "I um...I made this...for you."

Tom hates to see his girl so nervous, but he can’t deny how adorable she looks standing in front of him like this. So innocent and - wait...did he just refer to Ang as his girl in his head? Well, that's new. She hands over the canvas without looking at him and toes at the tile floor with her shoe. He flips it over in his hands and sucks in a breath. 

It's the most beautiful piece of art he's ever seen. The detailed lines, the contrast of highlight and shade, and the attention to detail. It's...well, it's breathtaking, and the fact that it's a portrait of him makes it that more meaningful. Tom realizes he hasn't said anything, let alone released the breath he's been holding, and turns his attention back to Angie. She's shaking and picking at her fingernails and he has to force himself not to hug her. 

"Darling, look at me." 

She timidly raises her head, her eyes shining with unshed tears. 

"This is phenomenal, Ang. I...I'm speechless… I'm so honored that out of everything you could have drawn you chose me. Thank you." 

She blinks a few times in rapid succession to keep from crying. "Well, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to draw the most beautiful person in the world." 

Fuck! Shit shit shit! 

God how she wished someone invented time travel so she could go back fifteen seconds. She could probably make it to the back doors to the parking lot if she made a run for it. They haven't even had their first date yet and she just dropped a bombshell that is normally saved for people who've been together for like...a few months.

Angie winces and turns her gaze back to the floor. The very floor she wishes would open up and let her fall into. Tom's index and middle fingers gently tilt her head back up. Those tears she worked so hard to stop before spill over her waterline and cascade down her cheeks. 

"Oh, love," Tom brushes the wetness away with the back of his knuckles gingerly, "please don't cry. I'm not upset with you. In fact, I'm flattered. It's been quite a long time since a woman has called me beautiful." He discreetly reaches down to hold her hand, "and it's never been said by someone as stunning as you." 

Angie feels her heart skip a beat. He…he thinks she's stunning? 

Before she can say anything, Tom does a quick sweep of the hallway to be sure there's no one that can see them. He smooths his thumb over her bottom lip and smiles softly before leaning down to press a sweet kiss to her lips. It only lasts a second, but it was by far the best second of her life. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, my darling girl." He winks and turns on his heel leaving Angie there with wide eyes and flushed skin. 

Holy shit he kissed her!

Jessy walks quickly to her locker and grabs what she needs to complete her assignments over the weekend. It's been the slowest Friday ever, but it's finally time to leave. She shoots Angie a quick text to let her know she'll meet her at the mall and heads to her car. 

Since they both have dates tomorrow night, a special outfit is a must for both of them. Twenty minutes later she pulls into a free parking space next to Angie's car. 

"JESSY! Oh, my god he fuckin' kissed me!" 

Jessica had barely gotten out of her car when Angie told her the news, and she was ecstatic. "No way!" She grabs Ang's hands and they bounce in place with excitement, "girl when?! Tell me everything!" 

She lets out a dreamy sigh and smiles. "You know how I drew that picture of him?" Jessy nods. "Well, Mrs. Stevens called him down to her class so I could give it to him. So, there we were, in the hallway, and I was so fuckin' nervous. God, was I nervous. He was so sweet with me though. He called me darling and waited patiently while I stuttered like an idiot. He was speechless, babe. He loved it." 

She grins, "I knew he would, Ang." 

Angie blushes, "there's more though. He told me he was honored that out of everything, I chose to draw him, and like a dumbass I told him I couldn't pass up on drawing the most beautiful person in the world." 

Jessica gasps. "Oh, shit! How did he take that?" 

"Well, I didn't see his initial reaction cause I immediately looked down at the floor, but he lifted my head and wiped my tears. He called me love and said that no one as stunning as me has ever referred to him as beautiful. Then," she bites her lip as the memory of his mouth on hers plays over and over in her head, "he looked around, kissed me for like a second, and then called me his darling girl!" 

"Ahh! Ang! Oh, my god that's so cute! You two are freakin' adorable together, I swear!" 

Angie hugs her and giggles. "You ready to buy something that's gonna knock our men off their feet? 

Jessica nods and hugs her, "hell yeah! Let's do this!" 

Two hours and eight stores later, both of them had their outfits tried on and bought. Angie picks a plaid blue and red skirt that sits about four inches above the knee, and a matching form-fitting shirt. Jessy decides on a short, simple, yet elegant, velvet burgundy dress. After that the girls eat a little snack at the food court together to tide them over before heading home to do their homework. 

Lily sits Indian style on her bed and works on one of her journal entries for English Literature. Sebastian may be her teacher, but he never once treated her any differently from the other kids. Friday's topic was a free day, and she's trying to think of something to write about. All she can think about is Chris, and what he told her brother the other day. One part of her wants to know who the girl is that he's willing to take such a big risk for, and the other part of her doesn't. Lily knows it's not her. Why would it be? He's twenty-two years her senior and her teacher for God's sake. She sighs and begins to write about him anyway. It's not like Seb will guess who it is. Not if she's vague enough. 

A couple of minutes later after she's done writing, she hears the front door open. That's odd...Seb normally hangs out with Chris on Saturday's… She thinks to herself. 

"Lily? Hey, you home?" 

She moves to lay on her stomach and starts playing Candy Crush on her phone. "In my room!" 

Sebastian knocks lightly and peaks his head in. "So, I'm gonna need you to get changed into some jeans and a t-shirt that you don't mind potentially getting dirty." 

She looks at him like he’s grown a third eye. "Um...what?" 

He rolls his eyes. "Just...c'mon! We gotta leave in like," he checks his watch, "ten minutes." 

Lily changes, even though she's thoroughly confused, and puts on some old tennis shoes. "Okay, I'm ready. So, what are we doin'?" 

Sebastian shakes his head and opens the garage. "Can't tell ya! It's a surprise!" 

"Ugh! You know how much I hate surprises, Seb!" She groans and slides into the passenger seat of his black Dodge Charger. He hands her a black bandana and smirks. 

"Yeah, I know. Humor me and put that on. You're not allowed to see anything until we get there." 

"Seriously?! Fine...but I get to pick what we listen to." Lily unlocks her phone and pulls up her favorite playlist on Spotify. "Here, I'll let you get it connected while I put this on." 

Sebastian chuckles and takes her phone. "Remind me why I love you again?" 

She pulls the ends of the bandana into a knot and adjusts it over her eyes. "Because I keep you sane, not to mention I'm the fun sibling." 

"Whoa, hey now, wait a minute! I'm fun!" 

Lily scoffs, "okay, mister 'the only thing I do for fun is hang out with Chris every Saturday' you keep tellin' yourself that. Speaking of him, why aren't you two having your normal bro night anyway?" 

Even though she couldn't see him, Sebastian rolls his eyes as he pulls out of the driveway. "Well, I told you I would make it up to you for bailing on our movie night. Plus, he's got a date." 

Lily feels a pang of jealousy flood through her chest. "Oh," she hates how she can't control the hurt tone in her voice, "that's good. I hope it goes well." 

Sebastian glances over at her, immediately picking up on her change of mood. He leaves it alone for now since today is about her. 

The drive is quiet, except for the music, and Lily finds herself thinking about Chris again. Well, she often thinks about him, but now she is imagining him with another woman. Honestly, she wishes she could just tell him how she feels so she can get his reaction. Maybe if he rejects her, then she will be able to get over him. 

She sighs and closes her eyes. "Are we there yet? I feel like we've been in the car for over an hour now." 

Sebastian stops the car and puts it in park, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. "Yeah, we're here. You can take off the bandana now." 

Lily rips the fabric off her head and blinks to adjust to the light. Once she's able to see clearly, she gasps. "SKYDIVING?! Oh, my god! Sebby! Are you serious?!" 

She looks at him with wonder and he laughs, "yeah, I'm serious! I know how long you've been wanting to do this, and I figured it was time for me to face one of my fears." 

Lily unbuckles her seatbelt and throws herself over the center console to hug him. "Oh, thank you thank you thank you!" 

He pats her on the back, "does this make me the fun sibling now?" 

"Don't push your luck, Shakespeare nerd." She pulls away and climbs out of the car. "C'mon! Let's go!" 

Angie looks herself over in her bathroom mirror for the millionth time and fixes a stray piece of hair. You look fine. Jessy was right, he's gonna love it. She tries to reassure herself as she applies a bit of lip gloss. Checking to make sure she has her phone, charger, a change of clothes, and her toothbrush, she walks down to her car. Jessy and her had the bright idea to tell their parents they were staying overnight at the other one's house. You know, just in case things go well and they decide to sleep over. 

It takes about thirty minutes to get to Tom's house, but she finally finds it. She's in awe as she parks in the driveway. It's a two-tone modern home, wood tone on the upper level and off-white on the lower. There's a balcony that wraps around and has glass paneling as a barrier. An inground pool sits off to the side of a wooden staircase.

She slings her backpack over her shoulder and makes her way to the front door. Her heels click against the asphalt and her heart thrums rapidly in her chest. Angie takes a deep breath and blows it out before knocking a few times. Seconds later, she hears footsteps and the lock clicks. 

Tom opens the door and her eyes go wide. He's wearing a white button down shirt, the top two buttons undone, and a pair of black slacks that sit low on his hips. His hair is neatly tousled and his feet are bare. Ang is so busy checking him out that she doesn't see the way he's looking at her. 

Tom stands rooted to the spot. He cannot believe how beautiful his girl looks. She's standing before him in a tight red top and short plaid skirt. Her hair is curled in loose waves, her light makeup a perfect touch to her flawless skin. He wants to devour her right there in his doorway. 

"Ang…," he looks her up and down as he bites and licks his lips, you look amazing." 

She blushes, "thank you. You look gorgeous, but you always do in my eyes." He takes her bag from her as she walks inside. "Wow, your house is beautiful." 

He sets her things down and gently grabs her hand. "Come here, darling." 

Angie spins around and looks up into his blue eyes. "May I kiss you?" He asks, his voice an octave lower than normal. She nods and he pulls her flush against his body. "I can't help myself when you look this stunning, love." 

He cups Angie's cheek in one of his large hands and brings his mouth down to meet hers. She's shy, he can tell, but soon she's kissing him back with fervor. Her lip gloss tastes like cherries and it's intoxicating. Tom backs her up, presses her against the wall, and tightens his grip on her waist as she moans into his mouth. He doesn't want to, but he knows if he doesn't stop now their dinner will get cold. 

He pulls away slowly and watches her. Ang is breathing heavily and her eyes are still closed. She's breathtaking. 

"Are you thirsty? I've got water, wine, Coke, Sprite, and I think there’s a case of beer in the garage." 

She opens her eyes and smirks. "I'm thirsty, but not for any of those things." 

He stutters and feels his slacks tighten, "L-Love, we…," he nods toward the kitchen, "dinner…" 

Angie grins mischievously and walks around to his other side. "You have a microwave, right?" He nods. "Well then…," she pushes him against the wall with her hands, "I say we skip dinner for now." 

Tom curses under his breath as she drops to her knees in front of him. "Besides, I have," her fingertips brush the rather large tent in his pants, "what I want right here." Angie pops the button and pulls the zipper down, her panties getting wetter by the second. 

"Fuck, Ang…" 

Tom's pants fall to his ankles and his hands shake as she lowers his boxers just enough to free him. His cock is painfully hard and she hasn't even touched him yet. Her small hand grips the base and he throws his head back. 

"Darling...please…" 

She runs her nails on the other hand down his thigh making him shiver. "I've never done this before, but I'll do my best to make it feel good." Tom's pretty sure anything Angie does will feel like heaven, but he nods anyway. 

The moment her lips close over his flared tip, he lets out the prettiest moan she's ever heard. It only fuels her to take him deeper. He's longer than he is thick, but she still has to open her mouth pretty wide. 

Once Angie has him about halfway she stops, not wanting to go any further in case she has a gag reflex. She trails her tongue tentatively along the underside of him and jumps a little when he thrusts forward slightly. 

"My, god...s-sorry baby...fuck that feels good." He threads his long fingers through her hair and wets his lips. "Want me to show you how? I'll be gentle, love." She nods as best as she can and blinks her innocent doe eyes at him. He nearly comes undone at the sight. 

His grip on her hair tightens and he begins to move her head up and down on his cock. Tom's eyes flutter closed, "oh, fuck! Darling, you're so good for me. So fucking good...mmm, yeah, move your tongue just like that, oh, my god…" 

Angie is floored by the way he's talking to her. She had no idea she would get such satisfaction from praise alone, but coming from Tom it was music to her ears. She pushes back on his thighs and he let's go of her. 

"Are you okay?" She shakes her head yes and kisses the tip of each finger on his right hand. "Fuck my mouth, please." 

Tom feels his need for her ignite into a wildfire. "God… are you sure, love? I don't want to hurt you. Especially since you're new at this." 

Angie kisses the tip of his cock, a bead of precum coating her lips, "please, baby? I want you to feel good." 

He breathes a shuddering breath and swallows thickly. "Alright, love, but I want you to tap my thigh if it becomes too much. Now, open that sweet mouth for me, darling." 

Angie obeys and Tom pushes his cock between her parted lips and doesn't stop until he feels her nails dig into his skin. "Shh, relax, love. Take - oh, shit! - deep breaths through your nose. Y-Yeah, that's it. You're such a good girl, Ang. God, your mouth feels so good…" 

She feels herself relax a few seconds later and Tom slides the remaining inches down her throat. He's panting, a thin coat of sweat covering his skin, and when he feels Angie swallow he about loses his mind.

“OH, FUCK! Ang...Ang oh, my fucking god!" 

She wants more, no needs more, so she does the only thing she can think of and tries to move her head back and forth, but his grip on her is too strong. She whines softly when he pulls her hair. 

"I know, love. Just...fuck...g-give me a second. I don't want to cum just yet.” 

He evens out his breathing and starts a slow rhythm. He's trying to be careful, but the little moans she makes every time he slides down her throat are nothing shy of sinful. Angie swirls her tongue around him and he growls. 

"Oh, s-shit! Ang, I...you're...oh, god!" He looks down at her with hooded eyes. "You're so perfect, darling. O-On your knees for me, taking my cock so well. I wish you could see yourself right now. So pretty…so good… fuck!"  

Tom moans out her name and fucks her mouth a bit harder, the heat in his lower belly now a sea of molten lava. 

"I-I...love, I'm...where do you...can I-?" 

He can't even form a coherent thought, let alone speak, but Angie gets what he's asking her. She absolutely needs to taste him, needs to feel him come undone from her mouth. She does the first thing that comes to mind and grips his ass hard, pulling him forward. Tom groans and works his left hand into her hair next to his right. 

"Fuck! Oh, you're amazing, darling. So good for me." He thrusts deep and squeezes his eyes shut, "shit I'm close, Ang! I-I'm...oh, darling I'm…unghh AHH!" 

Tom's orgasm hits him like a Mack truck. His vision goes white and his legs shake while his cock pulses in her warm, wet mouth. Angie swallows everything he gives her and only pulls away when he releases the hold on her hair. 

"Did I do okay?" 

Her cheeks have tear tracks and her lips are swollen as she looks up at him through her lashes. Tom leans his head back on the wall behind him and chuckles breathily, "baby…that was…more than okay. I cannot believe that was your first time. God, I haven't felt that good in...well...ever." 

He pulls her to her feet and tucks himself back into his boxers before kissing her hungrily. He can taste himself on her tongue, but he doesn't care. She's beautiful, and he never wants to let her go. He reluctantly steps back and pulls his pants back up over his hips. 

"Shall we have dinner, my darling girl? Maybe afterwards I can return the favor." 

She nods and bites her lip. 

"Alright, why don't you have a seat and I'll dish everything up for us." 

Jessica parks outside of Chris’s house just as her phone dings. She looks down and smiles when she sees it's him telling her the door's unlocked and she can just come in when she gets there. Her eyes look back up and admire how beautiful everything is. The house is a light beige color with very modern looking features. There's a lot of windows that are trimmed with a dark, ebony wood. A huge tree casts a shadow over the shrubbery and front walk-way, allowing the low lighting from the porch to give it a warm, cozy feel. 

She locks her car, puts her keys in the front pocket of her bag, and takes a breath to calm her nerves. It's a warm evening and the leaves are beginning to turn autumn colors. Jessy approaches the front door and turns the knob, slowly entering his home. If she thought the outside was beautiful, then she wasn't prepared for the inside. It felt so inviting. The same ebony wood accented white furniture and walls, and everything had its place. Very pristine. 

She smoothes her straightened hair and fixes her dress before calling out to make her presence known. "Chris?" 

A moment later, his Boston accent echoes back to her. "In the kitchen, sweetheart!" 

She sets her bag down by the door and follows the sound of his voice. Jessica finds him in an enormous state of the art kitchen. Modern appliances, a huge kitchen island with bar stools, and a wooden floor open up into an equally beautiful dining room. Chris stands facing the stove, his back to her as he stirs something that smells absolutely amazing. 

He's casually dressed in dark jeans and a blue button down. "I hope you're hungry. I'm mak-" He stops mid-sentence as he turns around to face her, the spoon he's holding clatters to the floor. 

"Sweetheart…," he breathes, "you look absolutely incredible…" 

He walks over to her and slides his hands up her bare arms, "you got this dressed up for me?" 

She nods and shyly bites her lip. "Yeah, I-I wanted to try and look pretty since you always look… well… amazing." 

Chris’s eyes roam up and down her body, like he can't look everywhere fast enough. Her four and a half inch stilettos make her come up to just below his chin, and her makeup accentuates her eyes beautifully.

"Sweet girl, you're always pretty." He kisses her deeply, his body flush against hers as he licks into her mouth. "Honey, I'll end up eating you for dinner if I don't stop now." He smirks down at her and raises an eyebrow when her breath hitches. "Oh," he coos. "You'd like that, hm? Another time, I promise. I made my Mom's famous Cajun Chicken Alfredo and I can't wait for you to try it."

He brushes her cheek and goes back to the stove to finish up their food. He pours her a glass of red wine and pulls out the chair for her to sit down. "You look even more beautiful in the candlelight, sweetheart." He kisses her cheek and puts a plate of steaming hot pasta in front of her. "It's hot, so be careful, okay?" 

Jessica nods. Thank you, Chris. This looks delicious." 

They chat while they eat, getting to know one another better. Talking to Chris comes naturally. It feels like she's known him for years. She tells him about Shayly and Jameson, skipping the part about how she basically lived with them. Chris beams as he talks about his family. Jessy learns that he has three siblings. A younger brother Scott, an actor who's happily dating his boyfriend of two years, an older sister Carly who's also an actress, and a younger sister Shanna who's an aspiring author. He mentions that his Mom's an actress as well, and his Dad's a dentist. 

Chris casually asks her about her parents and she tries not to show her grimace, but, of course, he picks up on it. "Jessy? I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn't mean to.” 

She shakes her head and looks at her half empty plate. "No, you didn't… I just… my childhood wasn't that great. 'S kinda why my Mom and I moved here." 

Chris watches her push a noodle around with her fork, "do you want to talk about it, sweetheart?" He takes her hand and she closes her eyes. "I know I need to. I haven't told anyone...not even Shayly. I just...I don't know if I can." 

He stands up and holds out his hand, "come here, honey. Let's go sit down in my living room." 

She lets him lead her to the other side of his house and smiles when she sees Dodger sprawled out on the floor. "Hey, buddy! Remember me?" He jumps up and wags his tail happily, "oh, you're so cute! Wook at your cute wittle face!" 

Chris chuckles, his heart full of happiness at the sight of Jessy baby talking to his best friend. "I think I've been replaced. How could you, Dodge?! I give you everything and the moment a beautiful woman comes in the house I'm chopped liver. Typical." He's joking, of course, and grins when Jessica rolls her eyes playfully. 

"Listen, babe, I can't help it. Dogs just get me, ya know?" 

Chris tosses Dodger one of his favorite bones and sits down. "C'mere, baby. Come sit." He pats his thigh and gingerly pulls her into his lap. His thumb caresses her cheek, "you can tell me as much or as little as you need, sweetheart. I won't talk while you are. I'm here to listen, okay?" 

Jessy plays with her hands, focusing on Dodge happily chewing away at his treat. "It's a long story, but I… I really feel like I can trust you with it. So many people have asked me to open up about it, but I've never wanted to. Not until I met you." 

Chris takes one of her hands in his and kisses the back of her knuckles, sweetly. "I'm honored you feel that way, Jessy. I promise not to tell anyone anything you're about to tell me. Not even Sebastian or Tom." 

She takes a deep breath and swallows the lump in her throat, preparing to tell him everything.

************************************************************************************************************************************************

"The earliest memory I have of my Father is from when I was four years old. He's actually my Step-Father. My real Dad died when I was a baby. Anyway, I was playing out on the back patio with my building blocks and heard him yelling at my Mom. I don't remember what it was about, but he was staggering and waving his hands around. My Mom was crying and he must have gotten sick of hearing her because I watched him hit her." 

Chris began rubbing her back and she took a moment to collect herself. "It went on like that for years. He was always drunk, and my Mom worked two jobs to keep us from losing the house. H-He got fired and sat at home, just drinking in front of the TV. When um…" Jessy squeezes her eyes shut and tries desperately not to cry. Chris turns her in his lap so she's facing him and kisses her forehead, "you don't have to tell me, baby. It's okay." Jessica shakes her head, "n-no I-I need to. It's just hard reliving the memories."

Chris holds her waist and rubs his thumbs in the little divots of her hips, trying his best to comfort her. "When he wasn't black out drunk, he'd sometimes…," she closes her eyes and lets a couple of tears fall, "h-he'd sometimes touch me…," she whispers shakily. Chris’s grip tightens on her waist and he clenches jaw, but stays quiet so she can finish. "He never….actually um...put anything inside of me, but he touched me o-on the outside. I had to touch him too...he told me if I ever told anyone he'd k-kill me." Jessy was full blown crying now, but she needs this weight off her chest. 

"My Mom doesn't know. No one does… except you. If I tried to um… to stop him he'd hit me or grab my face so hard that it left bruises. I wasn't physically strong enough to get away, so I just… I let him do those… things because I thought I had to. The sooner I complied, the sooner he'd get it over with and go to sleep." She sniffles and wipes at her cheeks, "the first time it happened I was five. It didn't stop until I was twelve. 

He um… he lost interest in me when I...when I hit puberty. I still got hit when I made him angry though. My Mom got the worst of it, and when I was fourteen I started protecting her. I-I'd push her behind me a-and take the brunt of it. It was all the same to him. As long as he could take his anger out on someone, it didn't matter who it was." She takes a shaky breath and lets it out. "My mom finally filed for divorce a few weeks ago. That's why we moved here. To get away… from him." 

************************************************************************************************************************************************

Jessy opens her eyes and looks into Chris’s. The emotion in them is overwhelming. She starts to softly sob and he moves his hands to her cheeks. "Shh, I've got you, honey. I'm so sorry you had to go through something so horrible. You have to know none of that was your fault. You know that, right?" 

She nods and lets out a choked sob. 

"You're safe now, baby. I won't let anybody hurt you ever again. I'm here now, and you're safe with me, sweetheart." 

He dries her tears with the throw blanket draped over the couch and holds her close. "Will you kiss me?" 

He nods, "I'll give you whatever you need, baby." 

His kiss is careful, like she'll break if he's too rough. Jessy grips his shirt and deepens the kiss, trying hard to push the bad memories from her mind. He slides his right hand up her back until his fingers are embedded in her long red hair. She whimpers and shifts in his lap making him groan. 

"Jessy… maybe we should stop. I don't want this to lead to something you're not ready for." 

She whines and moves his free hand to her chest. "I need this… please, Chris? I wanna forget everything he did to me. Please make me forget…" 

He pecks her lips and rests his forehead against hers. "Okay, whatever you need, love." He moves his hands up and down her sides, "how do you want to do this? Tell me what you need, honey." 

Jessica rolls her hips and watches as his eyes flutter closed. "Is like this okay? I-I don't know if I'm ready for um...well for anything more than that." 

Chris swallows hard, "yeah, that's fine, sweetheart. You wanna leave the dress on?" 

Jessica bites her lip and sits back, crossing her hands so she can lift the velvety fabric over her head. Chris’s jaw drops. She's completely bare, no bra or panties, and he can feel himself harden instantly. 

"Fuck...Jessy you're breathtaking," he breathes. "Look even more beautiful than I imagined." 

She blushes and fumbles with the buttons on his shirt. "T-Thanks, but you're way more beautiful than me." 

Chris frowns and mentally makes a note to talk to her about that comment later. Right now her pleasure is his priority. He helps her remove his shirt and watches as she marvels at his chest. Her small fingers trace one of his tattoos and it makes him shiver. 

Tentatively, Jessy begins rocking her hips against him. Her lips are parted and every so often a soft moan fills the space between them. "Touch me," she whispers. 

Chris gently flicks the pad of his thumb over her nipple, making it harden under his touch. Jessica throws her head back and grinds down on him harder. "Chris! M-More...please…" He takes one of them in his mouth while he rolls the other between his fingers. Her moans are louder now, his jeans wet with her arousal. 

"God, sweetheart, look at you. You're so pretty, movin' over my cock. That's it, just like that… mmm shit baby… you feel how hard I am? Could cum just watchin' you like this." 

Jessy grabs his hair and pulls to give her more control as she quickens her pace. "Oh, Chris! Feels so good… fuck!  Baby," her voice is a breathy moan as she looks into his eyes, "wanna make y-you feel good too." 

He swipes his thumb along the seam of her lips and can't help the filthy noise he makes when she sucks it into her mouth. "Shit! J-Jessy…oh, sweetheart, trust me, watchin' you make yourself feel good is more than enough for me.” 

She leans down to kiss and lick the skin on his neck and he raises his hips to meet hers. "That feel good, honey? You want me to keep movin' my hips like this?" 

She whines and digs her nails into his biceps. "Yes! Don't stop…please...oh, god!" 

She's dripping wet now, his cock leaking precum as she rocks her hips rapidly. The slight sting of denim against her clit sends jolt after jolt of heat through her body that gathers in her lower abdomen. It starts to simmer, slowly growing hotter by the second.

Chris kisses her, deep and passionate, guiding her hips so her soaked core glides over the head of his cock on every pass. She's ethereal to him. He can't believe this gorgeous woman finds this much pleasure in his body. Out of every woman he's ever been with, Jessica's the only one he's ever felt this strongly for. He isn't in love with her, no, he's not ready for that yet. It's too soon after Amanda, but she just...does something to him that he can't quite explain yet. 

She whimpers and reaches for his right hand, "please…need you...wanna cum…" 

His eyes roll back when she brings his fingers to her clit. "God! Honey, you're fuckin' soaked. I turn you on this much?" He moves his thumb in lazy circles making her legs shake. "C'mon, baby, that's it. You're close. Can hear how wet you are too. So damn pretty, baby." 

Jessy clings to his shoulders and kisses him hard. Her mouth stumbles against his as her whole body begins to shake. "Oh, Chris," she breathes against his lips, "Chris I- oh, my god!" 

He takes her lip between his teeth and bites down gently, "that's right, Jessica. Let go…come all over my cock, sweetheart." 

Chris's words send her falling over the edge, her nails scratching down his arms as she throws her head back and screams his name. He holds her steady and works her through her orgasm making sure to draw it out as long as he can. Jessy grips his wrist and he finally pulls away as she rests her head on his bare shoulder. 

"C-Chris," she half whines, half pants, "felt so good…" 

He kisses her hair and runs his fingertips up and down her back. "Did so good for me, honey." 

Jess pulls back to look down into his lust-blown eyes. It occurs to her that he's still very much hard, and she reaches down to cup him through his pants making him hiss. "Baby…what are you doin'?" 

She giggles and kisses the tip of his nose. "Isn't it obvious? I wanna make you cum too." 

His breathing gets heavier as she continues to stroke his clothed cock. "'M okay, Jessy. Y-You don't ha- fuck - have too." 

She starts a trail of kisses down his chest as she moves to kneel on the floor in front of him. "Oh, but I want to. Wanna taste you." 

She looks up at him with big eyes and he almost cums from that alone. "Please, handsome?" 

Sebastian and Lily approach the hanger and greet their instructor cheerfully. "Hi! I'm Lily and this is my big brother, Sebastian." 

The man smiles and shakes their hands. "We've been expecting you two! I've gotten quite familiar with Sebastian over the past couple of days. I'm Dean Wesson and I'll be your instructor today." 

He points to four other people across the room, "these guys will be assisting you with your jump." Dean points from left to right, those two in the silver and black suits are Sam and Steve Hammond and the ones in the blue and white are Scott Leighton and Tommy King." 

Dean goes over the basics with them. He gets Seb and Lily fitted into their own suits and helmets before bringing them into the gear room. "Okay, so here's a breakdown of all the different parts of your pack. When you're wearing it it'll be pretty snug. On the bottom right underside is the pull for your main shute. You'll reach back behind you to grab it and pull hard to release." Dean points to the left shoulder strap, "this is your reserve shute should your main one fail. The red pull on the right strap is what you'll use if your main shute gets tangled and you have to cut it away. Does that all make sense?" 

The two of them nod and they sign a waiver before getting their packs fitted to their suits. All seven of them head to the plane and buckle themselves in for take off. Ironically, Lily learns that taking off is actually more dangerous than the dive. Once they're in the air, she glances over at Sebastian. He's putting up a front, but she can tell he's scared. 

"Hey," she reaches for his hand and squeezes it, "you good?" 

He gives her a tight-lipped smile and closes his eyes. "Yeah…, I'm good." 

Lily frowns, "Seb, if you don't wanna do this-" 

"It's alright, Lil. I told you I'd make it up to you, and I meant it. Even if I gotta do something that scares me to death. Anything to make my baby sister happy." He grins and pulls her into a side hug. 

"Alright, folks! We're at fifteen hundred feet. Go ahead and remove your seatbelts and do a final check of your gear. Once you've triple checked everything you can put your helmet on." 

After making sure they're all secure, Sam and Steve talk to Sebastian while Tommy and Scott prep Lily for her jump. She decides to go first and moves closer to the door. Once it's open, she waits for the signal. Tommy gives her the thumbs up and she steals a final look at her brother before jumping. 

Scott grabs onto her left shoulder while Tommy takes the right. Because it's impossible to hear them at the speed they're falling, they use hand and arm signals to communicate. Lily has her arms out in front of her, slightly at an angle, with her fingers bent a little. Her knees are also bent and spread out, and it makes her look like one of those flying squirrels. Her head is up and back so she can keep the right velocity. Tommy instructs her to do a couple of practice pulls. She reaches back and barely tugs on the release of her main shute two times and he seems satisfied. 

The ground is getting bigger now, and she briefly wonders if Sebastian is okay. She can't see him, but she hopes he's alright. He's her brother after all. A few minutes later Tommy gives her the go ahead to open her shute and she spreads her arms wide, sticks them in front of her, and reaches back behind her to grab the pull. This time, she tugs on it hard and a moment later she's jerked upwards as her parachute fully expands. 

The view is unbelievable. Trees, roads, fields, and bodies of water, all of it is so small from here. Lily glances up and over her shoulder and smiles when she sees that Sebastian’s shute is also safely open. Her instructors point her left and she angles her body to turn. As the ground becomes closer, she leans back slightly, bending her legs just like she was taught. She touches down safely and rolls a little as her speed catches up to her. Her heart is racing and her whole body tingles with adrenaline. 

Sebastian lands moments later and comes up to sit on his knees once he stops rolling. Lily takes her helmet off and unclips the pack from her suit. "Seb!" She runs towards him and crouches down as he removes his helmet. His eyes are closed and he doesn't look like he feels good. 

Lily crouches down behind him and rubs his back as he gets sick. "Are you okay?" 

He nods, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his suit. "Y-Yeah… I'm okay." 

She helps him to his feet and begins to fold his shute up for him. "What did you think?" 

He sways a little when he stands, trying not to throw up again. "Was it everything you thought it would be? Did I do well in making it up to you?" 

Lily tucks it back into his pack and smiles wide. "That. Was. AMAZING! God, the rush, the wind in my hair, the view, it was better than I expected!" 

She rolls up her parachute and grabs her gear before taking the short walk back to the main hangar. After they've put everything away and changed back into their normal clothes, they say their 'thank you's' and 'goodbye's' before heading back to Sebastian’s car. 

They climb in and Lily turns to face him, "I can't believe you got sick you dork! It wasn't that bad, was it?" Lily picks fun at him playfully and Sebastian rolls his eyes. 

"Alright, how about we go to the pet store downtown and hold tarantulas next?" 

She shivers and crinkles her nose in disgust, "oh, hell no! That is not happening!" 

Sebastian chuckles and pulls out of the lot onto the main road. "Mmkay, well, I'm gonna stop and get a Sprite since I feel like shit, do you want anything?" 

Lily reconnects her phone to his Bluetooth and clicks on 'Guys my Age' before putting her seatbelt on. "Ooo! Can we get McDonald's cheeseburgers?" 

He nods, "sure. Today's all about you, Lil." 

Seb listens as she sings along to the song and can see that she's scrolling through her camera roll. He doesn't mean to, but in the process of looking to see if any cars are coming at a busy intersection, something catches his eye. It's a text message conversation. He can't make out the words because she's too far away, but he does see a familiar picture of him and Chris that he uploaded to Instagram a week or so ago. 

Lily bites her lip and leans back against the headrest closing her eyes. This song always stirs up her feelings for Chris. Her and Ang are texting about her day and she told her about how she's the fun sibling. Angie didn't believe that all Seb does for fun is spend his Saturday's at Chris’s, so she sent her a recent photo of then from his Insta. She'd saved it to her phone gallery as soon as she saw it. Chris looks so good in it. He's wearing one of his tight t-shirts that leaves little to the imagination and it drives her crazy. The chorus comes on and she sings along with it, her mind picturing bluish-green eyes and a sweet smile. 

Sebastian furrows his brows and glances over at his sister. She's singing and her mind seems far away. A thought crosses his mind, but he shakes it away almost instantly. It was silly anyway. They've been best friends since she was eleven and he'd always thought she'd look to him as another older brother. There's no way Lily has romantic feelings for Chris…right? 

Tom walks back in the dining room and sets a plate down in front of Angie. It's her favorite, an omelette with American cheese, peppers, onions, and some salsa drizzled on top. He's paired it with some bacon and rye toast, and it makes her mouth water. 

"Oh, this looks amazing! How'd you know it was my favorite?" 

Tom laughs and takes a seat across from her. "I didn't. Omelets happen to be my favorite too, darling." 

The two of them eat and play the game where one person asks the other a question and then they switch. "When's your birthday?" Tom asks and looks across the table at her. She points her fork at him and swallows her bite of food. 

"Believe it or not, it's the same day as my favorite holiday. Halloween!" 

His eyes widen, "that's so cool! Mine is February ninth. I was almost a Valentine's Day baby!" 

"Alright, where were you born?" 

He takes a sip of wine, "Westminster, London. I actually have dual citizenship which is good for when I go and visit my family." 

Angie's eyes light up with wonder. "Wow! I've never been out of the country, but I've always wanted to go! I bet London is so pretty! I dreamed of seeing Big Ben and Buckingham Palace in person when I was a little girl." 

"I'll take you, love" 

Ang chokes on her wine making it nearly come out her nose. "I-I'm sorry? You'll what now?" 

Tom reaches across the table and takes her hand in his, rubbing little circles, "I'll take you to London, Ang. I go at least twice a year and I haven't been since March. My mum will be calling me any time now demanding I come back to visit soon." 

She stares at him, her jaw slack, "I… there's no way I can pay for that…" 

He chuckles and shakes his head, "don't be silly. I plan on buying your ticket and everything else while we're there anyway." 

"Tom," she whispers, "…I can't let you spend that much money on me." 

He gets up and walks around the table, crouching down to her level. "Darling, please? I really want to do this." He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to her lips, "besides...I can think of ways for you to pay me back. One's that don't involve money." 

He winks and her cheeks flush. "Okay, you can take me to London, BUT only if you promise not to go overboard on the money you spend on me! Promise me." He stands and lifts her up, spinning around in a circle, "I promise, love." 

He kisses her again, only this time with more passion. Angie wraps her legs around his waist while he carries her into his bedroom. It's very clean, a four poster bed, and it smells like him. That's all she gathers of her surroundings because the next second she's against the wall. Tom peppers kisses along her jaw, slowly moving to her neck. Angie moans and tilts her head back to grant him more access. 

"Tom," she whines, "oh, god, please!" 

He nips at the skin below her ear, "please what, love?" His clothed cock is putting delicious pressure on her clit making it hard to think, let alone breathe. "Wanna feel you… y-your - oh, my god - your fingers." 

Tom's left hand tangles in her long, dark locks, while his right slides underneath her shirt. "Well, why didn't you just say so, my darling girl?"

He lifts her red shirt over her head and tosses it somewhere behind him. His eyes darken as they roam her newly exposed skin. "Absolutely stunning…" 

His mouth leaves her skin burning hot wherever it touches and his big hands knead her breasts until her nipples are hardened peaks. "Tom! Need you...please 'm so wet…" 

"Oh, I know you do," he delves his tongue into her mouth and moves it against hers, pulling away only when he needs air. "But I happen to love hearing your sweet voice beg for me, so, what do you think we should do about this?" 

Angie whimpers and moves her hand down to slide up her skirt. Tom catches her wrist before she can touch herself, pinning her arms above her head. "I don't recall giving you permission to do that, love." 

She lets out a frustrated moan, her chest heaving as she gives him a desperate look. "Tom, please! Oh, god...please please touch me! I need it, baby. Wanna cum for you. I'll do anything! Just, please...don't leave me like this!" 

He pulls down her bra and takes one of her hard nipples between his teeth. She cries out and tries to move her hips to gain any sort of friction, but her attempts are unsuccessful. He has her pinned effortlessly, allowing her little to no movement, and it makes her dizzy with want. 

"You want these, darling?" He shows her his hand and smirks. "Want me to fuck you with my fingers until you're begging me to let you cum?" 

She nods rapidly, "Yes! Fuck...please! Need it so bad!" 

Tom is pretty sure he can cum just from watching her like this. All needy and desperate for his touch. She's so fucking beautiful, and even more so with flushed skin and hooded eyes. He can feel how wet she is through his pants and it makes his cock twitch. He moves a hand up her side and cups one of her breasts, squeezing until Angie's eyes flutter shut. He still has her hands pinned with his left, so he slides his right up her inner thigh. His touch is light, barely-there, and he bites his lip when her skin becomes covered in goosebumps. 

The closer he gets to her pussy, the faster she breathes, and when his index and middle fingers brush her wet panties he groans. "God, baby…these are soaked through. You really want my fingers that badly, hm?" 

All she can do is whimper, but he gives in anyway. Tom pushes them to the side and glides his fingers back and forth through her arousal. The noises she's making are his motivation. He knows she's still a virgin and even though he thinks she's wet enough to take two of them, he starts with one. 

Carefully, he pushes his middle finger inside of her and hums low and primal at how tight she is. "Such a good girl, Ang. All warm and snug around me. That feel good, love?" He watches as she shakes her head and licks her lips. "You want more, baby? Think you can take two?" Another nod. "Say it, precious girl. Tell me you want it." 

Angie is certain that she will die if Tom doesn't make her cum in the next five minutes. At this point she'd walk a tight rope over the Grand Canyon for this man to fuck her. "I w-want it, Tom! Fuck...I can't...I need… shit, baby...please!" 

He lets out a breathy laugh and slides his index finger through her folds a few times before pushing it in beside his other digit. 

"Oh, my god! Oh, feels so good!" 

He slowly starts to move them in and out, the sound of her wetness filling his room. "Mmm, yeah, baby? I'm glad it feels good. I can't wait to see how pretty you look when you come undone in my arms. You'll be nothing short of breathtaking, I'm sure." 

He goes a bit faster and curls them slightly, searching for the spot he knows will drive her wild. Tom knows he finds it when she suddenly cries out, her juices beginning to drip down his hand. 

"There it is, love. You sound so fucking pretty when you moan my name...makes me wanna cum just watching you like this, Ang." He pumps his fingers faster and pulls her into a kiss. Her body's shaking as she whimpers into his mouth. "Are you close, darling? I want you to cum, baby. C'mon, be my good girl and cum for me." 

Angie has never felt pleasure like this in her life. She's touched herself before, but it's never felt like this. Hell, she didn't even know that spot existed until his thick fingers began rubbing it. Now that she knows it's there and how fucking good Tom is, she's addicted. She can feel her walls begin to clench and when his thumb moves over her clit she loses it. 

"Tom! Tom! Oh, fuck, TOM! I… I… g-gonna cu-OH, FUCK!" 

She throws her head back and cries out his name over and over like a mantra, her cum thoroughly soaking his hand. Her legs are shaking so hard that she'd have collapsed if he wasn't holding her up. Once she can think somewhat straight again, she opens her eyes and bites her lip as she watches Tom put his fingers in his mouth. 

"Holy shit…" 

It's all she can say, but he seems to understand. 

"Sweetheart, you look a little restricted there." Angie gestures to his pants and bites her lip. "How about I get on my knees again, but this time you make yourself cum...while I watch…" 

Tom almost does from her words alone. He watches as she kneels in front of again, looking at him with those innocent brown eyes. 

"'M not gonna last long, love. Not with you looking up at me like that." 

He takes himself out of his slacks and puts his left hand on the wall, slowly starting to pump himself with the right. "Shit…you look so sexy when you cum, baby. Love the sounds you made while I fucked that sweet pussy - mmm, fuck - with my fingers. 

Angie drags her nails down his thighs and watches his mouth drop open. Tom's hand moves faster, twisting slightly when he slides over the flared head. She wants to taste him again, the salty, bitter tang of him becoming something she knows she'll crave. 

"That's it, sweetheart. Let me taste you again." 

Tom growls and grabs a fistful of her hair. "Open." 

Angie obeys immediately and a second or two later he throws his head back, her name falling from his lips as he spills into her mouth. 

She makes sure not to miss a drop, closing  her lips around the tip of his cock until he's too sensitive to handle it anymore. He's hunched over still, sweaty and panting, and Angie can't believe how sexy he looks like this. She rises to her feet and kisses him deeply. 

"Did so well for me, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you." 

Tom lets out a shaky breath and opens his eyes. "You're gonna be the death of me, love," He smiles lazily.

Since he's already partially undressed, Tom strips completely and throws on a t-shirt and sweats. "I don't know how long you plan to stay darling, but you can borrow some comfortable clothes if you want." 

Angie goes on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck, "actually…Jessy and I kind of already have things covered." 

He rests his hands on her hips and raises an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?" 

She grins innocently, "well, see, Jessy also had a date tonight. Her and Chris are probably gettin' nasty just like we were, but anywho, she and I already told our parents that we were staying at the other's house." 

Tom laughs and shakes his head. "You two are something else. Alright then, I'll let you pick out something to wear, and I'll make some popcorn for us to eat while we watch a movie."

Chris is about to lose his mind from the way Jessy's begging to go down on him. Her brilliant hazel eyes stare up at him as he swallows. "Okay, sweetheart. Let me take these off." 

She scoots back and waits patiently while he takes his pants and boxers off, tossing them on the nearby chair carelessly. 

Jessy tugs on his hand until he gets down on the floor with her. Dodger has moved to Chris’s bed so they have more room to spread out. 

"Honey, why are we on the floor?" 

"'Cause I want you to lay down. I wanna be able to touch all of you." She gently pushes him until he's laying on his back. His left hand cradles her cheek as her petite body hovers over his.

"Jessica…you know you're beautiful, right?" Chris brushes her hair back gingerly and admires her lovingly. 

She casts her eyes down to his chest and draws little shapes with her fingertips. "Sweetheart, look at me." 

She hesitates, and when she does, her eyes pool with tears. "I...I've never once felt like I was even remotely pretty. Every time I look at myself in the mirror I...I feel dirty." She blinks back tears and tries to sit up, but Chris’s grip is to strong. "I-I can't...I can't wash it off." 

His heart constricts painfully at how broken she sounds. "What can't you wash off, baby?" 

She lets out a choked sob, "h-him...all the times he… when he… I-I can't make it go away…" 

Chris pulls her to his chest and turns them so she's laying on her side. "Shh. I've got you, sweet girl. He can't hurt you anymore. I won't let him. Not ever. You believe me, right?" 

Her lip quivers and she inhales sharply. "Yes, but I don't understand why you even want me…," she closes her eyes and buries her head in the crook of his neck. 

Chris holds her while she softly cries and pets her hair. "Jessy, why on Earth would you think such a thing? Why wouldn't I want you?" 

"I'm tainted…" 

Her voice is so small, almost inaudible. He wouldn't have even heard her if she wasn't this close to him. The moment the words leave her mouth he feels his heart break. He gently rolls her onto her back and props himself up on his arm. 

"Oh, honey, no. Don't you dare think that way. Look at me, baby. I need you to look at me when I tell you this." 

Jessy opens her eyes reluctantly and wipes the mascara off her cheeks. 

"Jessica, you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." 

She shakes her head no, and he frowns. "Yes. You. Are," he enunciates every word and kisses her lips gently. "The moment I laid my eyes on you at the park my whole world stopped. I had no idea anyone could be so damn pretty. I've been on this planet for forty years, and I've had my fair share of relationships. Hell, I'm a widower, baby."

Jessy's eyes snap up to his and her tiny hand caresses his cheek. "Chris…" 

He silences her with another kiss. "I'm okay, sweetheart. She was sick, and as much as I wished she could stay, I didn't want her to suffer anymore." He kisses her forehead before continuing. "I'm telling you all of this because out of everyone I've ever been with, you are the only woman who's ever made me truly believe angels exist. I don't care how long it takes, but I will spend every day showing you just how beautiful you are...well, for as long as you'll let me anyway. I'll try my hardest to never hurt you."

Jessy gives him a tearful smile and kisses him hard. "Thank you." 

"You don't have to thank me for being honest, honey. Now, I know you were dead set on continuing our little escapade, but I'm pretty tired. Can you sleep over? I don't wanna let you go just yet." 

She nods and giggles, "yeah, about that, Angie and I kind of told a white lie." 

He tilts his head in confusion, "what did you girls do this time?" 

She rubs his chest and plays with the hair being mindful not to pull it. "We told our parents that we were staying at each other's houses since we both had dates tonight. She's probably suckin' face with Tom right now," she lets out a laugh and smiles up at him. 

Chris beams at her, "there's my favorite smile. Well, I'm glad Tom's gettin' some too. I swear, that man's been single the entire time I've known him." He stands and scoops her up into his arms. "Ahh! Chris! I can walk, ya know." 

"I know," he winks, "I just decided I'd rather carry you." Dodger lifts his head and shakes it back and forth, his tail wagging happily. "Hey, buddy, we gotta share the bed tonight, okay? Jessy is sleepin' over and you're gonna have to let her sleep in the middle. He yawns and curls up at the foot of the bed. "Good boy, Dodge." 

Chris lays Jessy down and climbs under the covers beside her, pulling her into his arms again. "I had a wonderful evening and I'm excited to spend the day with you tomorrow," he whispers and kisses her lips softly. 

"Me too," she snuggles closer and lays her head on his chest, his heartbeat thumping rhythmically against her temple. It only takes a few minutes before he hears her breathing even out, and he holds her a little tighter before closing his own eyes. 

"Goodnight, sweet girl."

[commanderquinn]

Good Space Chapter 2: Man On The Moon

! i dont! keep these posts! updated! like i do! ao3!

that means you're going to find typos and shit (and possibly minor detail changes) that don't match the ao3 version! that's because im not going to bother fixing the tumblr posts until i finish good space as a whole. im only uploading them here as a backup tbh

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master list / ao3 chapter link

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warnings: lotta swearing and usual heavy pstd bucky stuff. also!! im giving sam's story a little bit of author bias/culture venting. this wont read like canon FATWS sam, though i am trying to honor their show where i dont hate it. i love sam's journey to cap, even if ken doll was nauseating (whats funny is i didnt know his actor's name is wyatt until halfway through THIS chapter when i googled something. oh well lmao im sure he's a perfectly nice dude. the wyatt in this fic is My Baby) plus the trump era commentary was completely toothless imo. and the fact that james buchanan barnes acknowledged in episODE T H R E E of the series that he'd take the shield before letting it fall???? even through all his self-hatred?????? get the fuck out of here that desTROYED ME i hate this fictional man with a passion

song: this one's by kid cudi!! 🥰

its time for the l o n g i n g to start ❤️ grab tissues!! first biggie angst so i had to put it behind our resident teddy bear's pov 🥺 you KNOOOOW i had to finish up this update in time for stevie’s birthday 🥰

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October 3rd, 2015

Samuel Wilson was not disillusioned when he walked into his first recruitment office. There were no patriotic stars in his eyes, no lotto number clutched painfully between nervous fingers to drive his feet up to that kiosk. He wasn’t foaming at the mouth to earn career-establishing stripes in a timely fashion. All he had to his name was a high school diploma and twenty-three bucks in his pocket. He didn’t have any big dreams for the desert rocks to tear a hole through. 

Sam was a kid back then. One who wanted to build a life, and the GI Bill offered to make that happen. A solid, steady income with the vision of a college education somewhere on the horizon. Not a lot of other options for someone like him, no matter which familiar corner of the country he looked at.

It took a long time and the right partner for the Air Force to talk him out of his combat objections once the ANG got wind of him. He turned the experimental program down flat twice; Pararescue was his focus for a reason. They had to bribe him with cutting-edge tech and the authority to refuse an assignment just to get him to agree to a first flight. The words never found their way onto an official record, at least none he knows of, but Sam had relentlessly insisted that he wouldn’t be volunteering as the next Indianapolis. Getting pushback on that assertion was when the anger first set in. The first crack in the armor of his career.

There were a lot of better angels within the service; it took most of them to get him home, tape-free, after Riley’s death. By the end of it all, it felt like every last one of them was outnumbered fifty to one. Nothing felt right anymore, including the idea of leaving the family he found in the sand to fend for themselves. The only thing that felt survivable after the world finally stopped tilting was dedicating himself to the VA.

Living for the memory of the ones he lost helped him find other reasons to want to be a person again. From there, it was mostly helping other people find reasons of their own that drove him forward.

It’s why he’s willing to delve into some shithole facility in the middle of nowhere Russia for a guy like Steve Rogers. And, on some levels, he supposes, if he absolutely has to, for a guy like Bucky Barnes. Even if he is the grouchiest motherfucker on the face of the Earth.

The lumbering moron hasn’t said a word all morning, no matter what small talk Steve tries to open with. And he’s tried everything, ever since they landed. Sam’s responded to a few of the openings himself just to try to fill the silence. He hopes it’s helping. It’s been hard to get a detailed read on the other push-pop’s triggers so far. Steve hasn’t signaled for him to stop, so.

“Cryo is through here,” Bucky rumbles under his breath. They’re the first words he’s spoken since the Quinjet.

“How many should we be expecting?” Steve asks almost as quietly.

“How many people am I asking you to put a bullet through, you mean.”

Steve stops halfway through the door Bucky’s directed them to. “We haven’t decided if that’s what we’re going to—”

“Maybe you haven’t decided. I’ll do it if you won’t.” The former sergeant doesn’t turn around. He keeps walking, getting closer to the stocky metal pods.

Sam already hates this. He already hates this a whole fucking lot. Captain America coming to him with a request to take the headcase to Russia was always going to get weird; he knew that. But he’s been very clear on what he’s down for, and now they’re in murder and war crime weird. He’d like to start slowing down the crazy train—

Steve holds up his hand. “Bucky, listen, it doesn’t have to—”

“Fuck off. You have no idea what it’s like to sit in this hell. You two can wait outside if you’re so uncomfortable. I’ve got it from here.”

Mmm. That’s the voice of a guilt-ridden survivor. Sam recognizes it well. At least it’s giving him a bead on where today’s drive is coming from. “You mean the hell we pulled you from?”

Steve’s head whips around, with righteous, territorial anger in his eyes. “You’re right, Buck; we don’t. But—”

“But you don’t know what they want,” Sam forcefully finishes, staring back at Steve. He banks on the fact that, technically, they’re not really disagreeing. Steve’s trying to back him down, too, in his own way. “Taking away their chance at the same new life you’re getting isn’t—”

Bucky’s cybernetic fist comes crashing down on one of the corroded desks, making the rusted metal whine in protest, deforming to the shape of his fingers. “You two don’t fucking get it.” He turns, angrily tugging his hand back to his side. The assassin doesn’t advance, but his posture is more than ready for it as he glares at them with pure contempt. “You think you’re going to find people in those tanks—humans, with hearts and minds and hopes and dreams. There might as well be skeletons getting freezer-burned in those goddamn caskets because that’s the only salvageable thing you’ll find. You fucking—”

He laughs, the sound empty, and turns back around to send his fist into the side of the table, knocking it across the room. He doesn’t face them again. “You fuckers! You take a fucking look at me. Take a good, long look. I am half alive. I had a radiation-free knockoff keeping me upright through their bullshit. You wanna know what they had? Something that might as well have been piss mixed in some fucking snow. Worthless trash those Nazi bastards bottled up and stuck in a needle.”

“Bucky—” Steve tries to calm his best friend as the man’s voice breaks. Sam could tell him from first-hand experience how well that’s going to go over.

There was a lot of screaming in that desert. A lot of grief disguised as anger. A lot of old ideals leaving newly-shattered men one seething tear at a time.

“They were zombies by the time HYDRA was done injecting them. Do you get that? Are you two grasping the concept? They were rabid dogs I trained to respond to whistles. Rotting corpses that I taught how to aim. And that was before their brains shorted out on them. I looked into every single one of their eyes. I saw what looked back. Fuck species—what was in there was not fucking alive. Fuck you—fuck you so fucking much for even fucking suggesting I should leave them like that—like animated fucking cadavers—hooked up to some fucking machine just to breathe—”

“James.”

Bucky’s flood of words finally cuts off, and Sam isn’t sure if it’s because of the use of his first name or the way he swallows as if he’s choking. His flesh hand comes down on the back of the chair that started out tucked under the table. It keeps the guy upright while he pulls in a few breaths that look painful, even through the curtain of dark brown hair.

“Let’s see what’s what first,” Sam suggests as diplomatically as he can manage. He doesn’t take a step forward, mostly because he doesn’t see Steve take one. “Then we go from there.”

“You’re going to hate what you see.” Bucky scoffs bitterly. “You think you know, but you don’t. You’re going to hate me for bringing you here. For the rest of your lives.”

Steve moves forward, finally, but he stays a few feet to Bucky’s seven o’clock. “I’m not dumb enough to make you any promises about not hating what I see here. I haven’t even looked in one, and I already know you’re right on the money when it comes to that. But I can promise that you’ll always be wrong about me hating you for any of this.”

“So can I,” Sam assures. There’s not a doubt in his mind now that he understands where they’re at.

—

Bucky’s up at 0500. 

He hasn’t slept a minute later than that since the first night his body adjusted to New York’s timezone, no matter what hour he falls asleep. He doesn’t attempt more than upright power naps on away missions. They’re the only thing that gets him any rest outside of his room in the tower. 

It’s the same every morning. First, he works on his back, popping away the stiffness one awkward bend of his limbs at a time. From there, the extra thick comforter gets picked up off the floor, then the blanket and the lopsided pillow. They always get tossed on top of the bed he’s never used. Except on Saturdays, when he does his laundry. That’s when they get put in a basket to be taken to Natasha’s room. She won’t let him have his own washing machine until he starts using the bed.

So, every Saturday, he shows up with his little pile at 0800 because Natasha won’t unlock the door until then. A pillowcase. A blanket and matching comforter. Two shirts, usually henleys, five black tanks, and two different tactical pants. One pair of gloves. His singular monkey suit gets taken to the cleaners whenever he’s forced to wear it, which thankfully isn’t often.

His dress uniform hasn’t come out of the box Steve dropped it off in after getting it pulled from the goddamn Smithsonian. Bucky hasn’t laid eyes on it since 1943.

While he’s working his hair up into a serviceable bun, he thinks about Natasha’s recommendation to start braiding it before he sleeps. He doesn’t like the idea of something that tight sitting against his head, especially at night. Maybe if he lets his hair grow out a little more. He wants to keep the shoulder length it’s at now, though. It looks good on him. He wants to know what asking someone to pull on it feels like. Eventually. 

Online dating has been… overwhelming, to say the least.

He’s reaching for the medkit in the drawer under his bathroom sink when the mental image of Ava creeps in. He isn’t trying to blow off the hippie’s orders. Honestly, the thought of their deal hadn’t crossed his mind until he got to this part of his day. Resisting the urge yesterday had been difficult. He knew ahead of time that today was going to be much worse. It means pushing through a repeated break in his pattern.

That voice, the one that insists he should tell Steve to fuck off much more, rears its head. His flesh hand twitches with the reflex to finish his usual routine. To show up late to her office with some blase excuse about doing it out of habit. He could sell the lie without even trying. Entire countries have fallen thanks to his expertise with it. She wouldn’t have a shot in hell at knowing the difference.

He could work his way out of this with ease. Steve already feels guilty about making him pull a hard stop during his first visit, even if he won’t say the words. It’s the perfect opening to establish a line and push it away to give himself some room, one step at a time.

With a decisive flick of his wrist, Bucky shuts the drawer holding his medkit. For the second time since he was allowed to travel without a handler, he walks away from his morning routine without treating the cybernetics on the back of his neck.

It makes his skin feel wrong—off, unsettled—as he gets his standard gear on. He’s still grounded, thanks to Steve, so it’s the version he’s got closest to fatigues. He hopes the doctor doesn’t mind rolling down a polyester turtleneck to get at his brain port. He almost skips going to the gym for his workout, but that would worsen the off feeling. And he’d have to sit around with nothing to do for hours waiting for their first scheduled maintenance. 

He slides his phone into his back pocket, intent on heading to his standard morning haunt. A few hours of going through his paces in the gym will help his nerves. When his mind offers up the suggestion that a workout before seeing the cute doctor could be—advantageous, he tries not to linger in it. 

The idea certainly doesn’t make him feel bad. It’s even sort of... motivating in its own way. It... contributes to his reasons for doing a few extra sets on the bench. And adding a quick rock wall climb. There are others, of course. Being chained to the tower like a toddler in timeout because his best friend is an asshole is certainly one of them. He tacks on more time at the reinforced, Super-Soldier-proof punching bag to ease that particular frustration.

Even with the additions to his cardio, he’s still got an hour to kill before their appointment. He fills it by heading for the roof of the tower. It’s not even 0900, so no one but a few graveyard stragglers are out in the open space. SHIELD agents like him that are married to the job, catching a glimpse of the sun and a few puffs of nicotine before going to crash. Bucky stops to help one of them struggling with her lighter, offering up his spare Bic. The other agent smiles at him in tired appreciation before hovering the end of her cigarette over the flame. He counts it as contributing to his social life. He’ll figure out how to phrase it to get his therapist off his ass later. 

The brain trust’s space is, unsurprisingly, effortless to find. Ava wasn’t kidding; it’s actually tucked away in one corner of the roof, hidden along the wall that extends up to the tower’s executive launch bay. Bucky had expected them to claim a spot overlooking the Avenger’s balcony. Then again, he’s heard she’s pretty close friends with Tony, so maybe he shouldn’t have. She probably knows better by now. 

There’s another collection of gargantuan chairs, this time made out of wicker and upholstery that feels soft when he runs his fingers over it. A tapestry rivaling the paint swatches at Steve’s supply store is mounted to the wall behind them. Two poles hold it at the opposite corners, keeping it blowing slightly in the wind as it hangs over the collected seating. The coffee table in the middle has a lockbox sitting on it, with SHEILDs insignia embossed on the lid. 

He’s got level seven clearance these days. He could still easily get through that lock, even if he didn’t. It’s going to drive him batshit, not knowing what’s in it before she takes him up here herself. 

Bucky turns around and gets halfway back to the door to the stairwell before the buzzing in his neck builds too much for comfort. He grinds his teeth through the sensation. He even manages to force himself another few steps forward. But, ultimately, the buzzing wins out, and he spins again with a vicious curse. 

The confirmation chime of his clearance override feels too loud, even out here in the open. The top of the lockbox rolls back, revealing a set of playing cards, a jumbled collection of stress toys, a SHEILD standard medkit, and some candles. He almost leaves without checking the medkit. He’s so close to being able to stomach the idea. 

Almost. 

There’s nothing sinister to be found in it once it’s open. It’s stock issue. Not one of the item counts is off, but the lot numbers don’t match, meaning she maintains it regularly. Knowing that information feels invasive, despite being convinced she wouldn’t mind how he got it.

This. Isn’t. Siberia. Ava Ryder is not going to put a gun in his hand. She is not a risk to him. 

Bucky leaves the roof, headed for her lab. He’s going to tell her he went snooping. He can do that, at least—a bare minimum level of respect to offer her. 

She’s not in her office when he gets through the painted door at 0857. Only one of the doctors is behind the glass today. It’s the other woman—the American-born German. Hannah. Her head is down, focused on a tablet under her hands, with wireless earbuds peaking out from her dirty blonde hair. A hologram of a brain Bucky doesn’t recognize is running next to her. It’s not his; there’s no spider webbing. One of their other patients then. 

He takes a seat in the same chair he used during his last visit. “JARVIS?”

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes,” the AI responds with nothing but tranquility. “Something you need?”

“Can you tell the doc I’m ready when she is?”

“Of course. Dr. Ryder has not yet entered the building. I’ll let her know you’ve arrived.”

Bucky frowns. “Ah—cancel that. Is she—“ Don’t ask him to track her, you dumbfuck. That’s weird. “Never mind. I’ll wait.”

This is New York. He’s not even sure what part of the city she lives in. For all he knows, she could be stuck in a cab uptown. He can pull the stick out of his ass long enough to give her room to be human. 

He sits there in silence, sunken into pillows with his leg bouncing rapidly, and talks himself up in his head. He’s not uncomfortable. He’s not going to bullshit his way out of this. This is good; it’s going to help him. Bucky is happy about that. It’s a relief to be facing this after a lifetime of running. 

By 0901, he wants to leave. The urge is nearly overwhelming. He makes it to 0904 before he stands up. It takes until 0906 to convince himself to sit back down. 

“I have an incoming message from Dr. Ryder if you wish to hear it, Sergeant Barnes,” JARVIS tells him eleven minutes after the appointment was supposed to start. 

Thank god. “Play it.”

“Morning, JAR!” Her voice is muffled in the recording. She’s got something in her mouth. She’s also in the most broken-down piece of shit in the city by the sounds of it, so not a cab. The subway, maybe? It should be a lot louder than that. “Tell Bucky I’m about fifteen minutes behind and that I’m very sorry. Oh—and tell him to pick the candle!”

His eyebrows lift in confused surprise. “I’m picking a candle?”

“Choosing a candle to burn is part of the daily routine of lab 5923. Dr. Ryder and I usually decide on one, but the option is left open for patients. You will find a box behind her desk; there is a wide array to select from.”

“You pick it together?” Bucky prods, the corner of his lips twitching as he gets back up to check for said box. 

“She enjoys having someone to banter with about them. Dr. Schuster doesn’t usually have anything to contribute to the topic. Dr. Combs only has so many opinions on the matter. He is not overly particular about the olfactory state of the lab.”

“Is Ava?” It’s getting easier to refer to her by her first name alone. It helps that it’s made her smile the handful of times he’s done it. 

“Not especially. I would call her enthusiastic. She finds the options comforting, and there are very few that she doesn’t enjoy.”

“No kidding,” Bucky mutters as he pulls open the top of a very large box. He smelled the thing long before he picked it up, and looking at what’s inside confirms everything the AI’s telling him. There are dozens of them in here, and most of them are unburned. Various shapes and gimmicky scent names stare back at him. Not a lot of Bath & Bodyworks, he’s noticing. 

The hippie is a small business aficionado. How utterly shocking. 

He pushes around the amassed jars for a few minutes. His mind files away a few options he wants to try for later if they don’t get used up on the days he won’t be here. Definitely before he finishes talking her out of demanding these appointments. He picks up one that claims to smell like cranberries and peppermint for a test sniff. 

Thanks to the combination, the barest hint of the ghost of a memory comes over him. One that whispers the name of his mother. This happens sometimes. A fragment that’s still hanging on by a thread will float by. They never have much context, not anything he can typically extrapolate on, infuriatingly enough. Just his mind taunting him that something should be there, but it isn’t. 

He picks that candle, and it doesn’t make him sad as he lights it. None of his pieced-together memories of the life he never got to finish do anymore. He takes them in stride and tries to enjoy what he can. 

That’s what Ma would have wanted.

—

Ava hip-checks the door to her office somewhere around 9:30. 

This is already shaping up to be a terrible second impression. All that grief she gave Bucky about leaving things in her capable hands, and now here she is, showing up late and half-showered to the appointment that’s supposed to finish acclimating him. 

“I am so sorry,” she rushes out, dumping her bag on the closest available surface. It ends up being one of the novelty end tables tucked between the consultation chairs. At least she finally took the one shaped like a leg home. “I completely overslept, and then I wanted to grab you something from my favorite bagel place—do you want one, by the way?” She waves a finger at her bag, then at Bucky, who watches her as she walks and talks her way to her desk. “They’re in that side pouch, the ones that have cream cheese are wrapped up separately. I didn’t know if you were a plain butter kind of New Yorker. Anyways, there was this mouth-breathing dickhead who—” 

She stops and takes a deep breath in when her over-taxed mind finally registers the smell around her. 

“Good morning,” he says from the chairs, amusement coloring his tone. 

She spins on her heel, her glasses jostling with the motion, chuckling softly. “Good morning, Sergeant. Sorry. This is what happens when you talk to me before the coffee finishes evening out in my bloodstream. Fantastic choice, by the way. What is that? It’s peppermint—something.”

“Peppermint and cranberries.” His lips pull up into a half-smile that absolutely sells her on the idea of him being a serial heartstopper in the 30s. “Advertised in what looked like a mushroom cloud.”

Ava’s chuckling turns into an outright bark of laughter as she pulls her work tablet from behind her keyboard. “Yeah. That sounds about right. One of the candle makers I buy from is an anarchist working out of a garage. Great stuff, even if you do have to listen to the most ass backwards view of free trade to get the guy to send you his stock. Good morning to you, too, JARVIS, now that I’m not babbling around a mouthful of food.”

“No need to worry; I’ve become very fluent in your language of scarfing,” JARVIS assures. 

“My mother would keel over if she heard you say that.” Ava waddles over to her latest patient, tablet in one hand and medkit in the other. She puts the kit down on the arm of his chair, in the same spot she put the scanner case last time. He looks much less nervous now, and she gives him a warm smile to encourage that. “I know you don’t want me talking your ear off, and the breakfast offer can wait until we’re done, so let’s get down to this.”

Bucky’s mouth opens. There’s a moment of hesitation before he says anything. She doesn’t try to rush him through it. “What’s the plan, doc?”

“Paige won’t be back from the field until later today at the earliest, so I don’t have anything new for you to test. I passed along your request for the field kit dimensions. She says making something that portable shouldn’t be a problem.” Ava taps on the black sleeve of his shirt. “How comfortable are you with the idea of using nanotech?”

“As in the tiny robots Tony’s always testing?”

“Mhmm.”

“For what? My neck?” He raises his hand to the general area of the port, and she hears him scratching at the fabric over it. “I don’t think it’s—I thought this kind of opening couldn’t be—”

“I don’t mean for closing it off,” she corrects quickly, wanting to avoid a misunderstanding that might get his hopes up. “I want to program a batch specifically for daily care of your implants. The port and your shoulder. Something you can keep in safe housing for use in the field. Now—I want to make sure you understand something upfront. This won’t change my professional opinion; you need to have a specialist looking at this on an extremely frequent basis. However, I would prefer it if you had the nanotech as a safety net. The more of this that we can automate for you, the better.”

“I can agree to that. I’m guessing the bug bots don’t come with a manual.”

Ava moves behind him, mostly to hide how the grumpy old man routine is making her grin from ear to ear. “They usually don’t need one. I’ll be making you a checklist to go over if that makes you feel better.”

“You don’t—that’s—” He hesitates again, making her stop before she can make contact with his neck. “You don’t have to keep... doing stuff. Like that. I’m alright with trusting the bug bots.”

Another piece of Ava Ryder’s heart breaks for Bucky Barnes. “That's great to hear. But, just so you know, I’m going to hand you a checklist anyways.”

“Alright.” His head barely nods; she’s guessing because he can feel her fingers hovering. The evaluations of his senses were so off the charts it set a new testing standard for SHIELD. “That’s—appreciated.”

“You don’t have to worry so much about the manners.” Pressing down with a disinfectant, she circles her thumb around the port, wanting to get it done before moving to his shoulder. That’s going to need a shirt removal. She leans down and shifts to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m not reporting them back to Steve.”

“Don’t worry; my work wife will come to weasel it out of you or JARVIS all on his own.”

Ava giggles quietly, her eyes honed in on clearing the excess buildup. “You’re not having fun being married to Captain America?”

“Oodles,” he deadpans, making her giggles worsen.

She gives him a break from the small talk while she finishes working on his neck. At some point, she’ll need to put together a specialized blend for loosening up the scar tissue; the skin around it is dried to hell and back from years of sterile wipes. She doubts comfort has been much of a concern, and she’s not about to recommend putting generic lotion over it, but this is ridiculous. There’s no reason for him to live with pain like that.

“I don’t suppose a man from the 30s is going to appreciate being given a moisturizing routine.”

“Nat’s going to be thrilled.”

“She’s your work husband, I’m guessing?”

“She likes to act like it.” Bucky turns his head to glance back for a split second just as she leans forward to swap out for an ointment. The way his head jerks back into place lets her know he got an eyeful of cleavage on the journey. It perfectly mirrors how his eyes snapped up from her chest when he first walked in. She’s not exactly embarrassed about it, but she does feel bad watching him shift around nervously. “But I’m not dumb enough to argue. About that. With her.”

The awkward charm is starting to make her cheeks hurt. “Sounds like a reasonable choice. I hear arguing with Russian women isn’t a smart idea in general.”

“Not if you want to keep your limbs attached.”

“Is it too early for me to start asking for state secrets? Like, say, if the Winter Soldier happened to get his ass handed to him by a former commie?”

“I’m pretty sure she was still a commie the first time.”

“The first time?” Ava asks with excited delight, her hand pausing on his shoulder.

“There were a few run-ins. She’ll remember more of them.” Bucky grimaces with annoyance. “Worse, she’ll be willing to tell them to you.”

“Would you be willing to let me hear them?” she goads.

His shoulders lift with a strained sigh. “Sure, let’s call it willing.”

“You’ll have to remind me if I’m lucky enough to meet her.” She drums her finger on his mechanical shoulder. “Gonna need you to take this shirt off, superstar.”

“Off? Wait, what did you just—” Bucky shakes his head with a quiet huff of laughter. “I’ve got the arm covered.”

“I know, that’s the problem.”

“Alright, smartass. You know damn well what I meant. I took care of it before I came here; it wasn’t part of our deal.”

“Does gross puss leak out of it?”

She can see his eyes roll, even with his head only partially turned. “You know it does.”

“And is it attached to your brain?”

“Ava—really, I’ve got this.” His head turns all the way, and the smile comes back, in full force this time, and oh. Oh, she can absolutely believe that he broke half the hearts in Brooklyn during his reign of terror.

She leans down into his space, letting her arms rest on the back of his chair. “You know what I’ve got?”

His lips purse in resigned amusement. “Multiple medical degrees?”

“You betcha. They were stupid hard to earn, too, so I’d appreciate it if you could start taking that into account.”

“I’m not trying to dismiss them—”

“Just the expertise that they gave me.” When his smile turns guilty, she shifts her weight as naturally as she can to push her chest against her arms in compensation. She doesn’t miss the way he blinks a split second later. Such a gentleman. It almost makes her feel bad. “I don’t mind you arguing the point of your independence. I’m glad for it, Bucky. It tells me that you really want this to work. I hope you can start trusting that when I suggest against it, I’m doing it with your health in mind. Nothing more. You can tell me what you’re comfortable with from there.”

He stares at her like he’s in pain. For an almost uncomfortably long time. “I broke into your lockbox.”

Ava blinks at the sudden shift. “Okay. Wait—my what? Are you talking about the candle box? That doesn’t even have a lock—”

“Your stuff on the roof. You keep a SHEILD issue safe up there. On the table. I used my override.”

It takes a moment to piece together what he’s getting at. She’s been running late since she woke up on Paige’s couch at 7:50 something. The only thing in her bloodstream right now is caffeine; there was no time for a wake-and-bake. “Oh. Oh, oh, that’s just... it’s not locked locked; we don’t really care if anyone uses the stuff in it. We just needed something to put it in that the weather can’t get to.” She smiles at him as his shoulders relax. “You went to see our little corner?”

Bucky shrugs. “I was around.”

“Mhmm, I’m sure. And bouncing off the walls with Steve’s lockdown, no doubt. The faster you get that shirt off, the faster you and I can iron out a plan to get you back in the field. Work with me here, Barnes.”

Bucky stands up with a sigh, and his hands move to his shirt. He pauses while they cling to the bottom of it, his arms crossed. Once again, she doesn’t push him through his hesitation. “I don’t mind if you talk about things. Steve only said that shit about being direct to keep me from stalling my way out of this.”

Ava’s eyebrows pull in while she thinks over the words. “Is that the only thing he’s lied about? I don’t care if you two keep secrets, but you can’t bullshit about your mental health with me. I need to know what makes you uncomfortable; otherwise, I can’t do my job.”

“That’s all I can think of,” he assures her, and she believes him despite the wording. 

“In that case, you’re kind of stupid, full offense.”

It’s Bucky’s turn with the blinking. “Excuse me?”

“You signed yourself up for morning appointments, and you just gave me permission to talk your ear off. You’re an absolute moron; now take off that shirt so I can make sure your brain doesn’t melt.”

—

She has a pet cat named Oreo, of all fucking things. 

It’s hairless. And dumb as a box of rocks, according to her. The name comes from the huge black spots in its—pattern. He can’t exactly use the word fur. She was highly offended when he called the cat a ballsack while she was showing him her lock screen. He got smacked on the arm for the comment.

It’s not her first pet. She got it partly to mourn the snake she adopted in college, a rosy boa called Sayer that finally died at 32. She used the reptile as companionship and motivation to push through her first PhD. The one letting her work on his brain now. It was named after the lead character from her favorite medical movie, Awakenings. When Bucky mentioned that he’s never seen it, she made him swear up and down that he’ll text her his honest reactions if he ever dares to rip his own heart out with questionable ethics.

So now he’s got her number saved in his phone. It’s the 11th one he’s added. Two of them are therapists. None of the others are people outside of SHIELD. He’s pretty sure one of the therapists is a plant from Natasha, so maybe he should start counting them toward the SHIELD column.

There were only nine others over the course of his online dating attempts. None of them stayed on his phone for more than a month before getting deleted. He wasn’t about to let his therapist catch their names on his contact list.

Bucky switches the grape-flavored lollipop in his mouth over to his right cheek. Ava gave it to him. Bopped him right on the nose with one and then let him pick from an array of five like the blatant bribery it is. The good doctor smiled at him while she did it, too.

May it bring you back in good spirits and better health.

It’s the nicest way he’s ever been told to fuck off for being a grouch. It made him smile. Him. James Buchanan Barnes, in the year of 2018.

She’s.… Christ, calling the woman a handful in this day and age feels insulting. He’s not put off by it. Overwhelmed a little, maybe, but he gets the feeling she’s alright with him taking time to warm up to it. Hell, he gets the feeling that not much bothers her at all. It makes him envious. 

He likes the way she speaks. Not just the crazy and the swearing, though that’s its own comfort. There’s a—it sounds so stupid, but there’s a kind of music to it. She always talks in the same calm rhythm, despite the chaos usually found in her words. He didn’t notice the way it makes his foot stop bouncing until halfway through the appointment.

Bucky scowls. “Davis. Why am I looking at a lost signal?”

The level four analyst Steve’s been telling him to ease up on lately freezes in his swivel chair. His head turns, nervously searching the wall of security feeds. Bucky doesn’t offer up any help. “Sorry, sir, I can’t seem to spot which—”

“Third row from the top, eighth from the left. The one I’m supposed to be monitoring for an illegal exchange of nuclear materials, so if you wouldn’t mind—”

“Yes, sorry, restoring connection now. Apologies, Sergeant, I’ll—keep a closer eye on it.” The agent starts mumbling the rest of his intended sentence, mostly about how many he’s keeping track of, when he cuts himself off. His shoulders pull in a bit, almost chastised. It always takes people a minute to remember the super hearing.

He could let it hang. The feed is fixed; he can go back to staring at an empty lot without interruption.

“You’re doing fine.” Bucky feels bad because he’s having an unordinarily good day. That’s all it is. Nothing more. “Restructure your feed priorities. You can hand most of these off to JARVIS; that’s what he’s patched in for. Focus on the ones your gut doesn’t like.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll start on that now.” The words don’t even sound spiteful.

Bucky sits back against the executive bench of the Datacrux. The stiff leather creaks with the motion, the rigid frame under it keeping him grounded. He tilts his head from side to side, letting it crack and readjust incrementally. His neck doesn’t feel as tight as it should. When he touched it in Ava’s lab, the skin felt even softer than it did after her first round on him. He’s trying not to touch it now. He doesn’t want to irritate it. This is the best it’s felt in—

He doesn’t have a year, he realizes. He can’t remember the one he woke up to cybernetics in. He has no idea when his first taste of cyborg life was. There’s a vague lead, a number written out on paper to fill in the blanks of what’s been destroyed. An estimation anchored around the last day of his former life. But he doesn’t know.

At least you’re still breathing, the better angel in his mind coaxes.

Switching which leg is balanced on which knee, Bucky settles back into his work. It’s been six months since the last lead on his responsibility. There’s been no chatter from the known HYDRA cells, no underground protection contracts with suspiciously good track records hitting Natasha’s web, no suspicious Black Market transfers that scream safe house establishment, nothing. Wherever the Soldats are, they’re being kept under wraps. 

His hounds wouldn’t be able to be contained for anywhere near this long. They’re dead or sedated, no matter where they were smuggled. Otherwise, they’d have surfaced already.

Bucky tries not to think about what a life of not knowing will feel like. He doesn’t know if that’s worse than the idea of burying them. They’re certainly not staring down the barrel of a happy ending at this point. How do you mourn—a situation like that? He can’t even figure out how the hell he’s supposed to be fixing it.

Somewhere out there are the last ravaged pieces of a serum that never should have been made. It’s floating, cobbled together and left to rot, in the veins of men and women who didn’t know what they were signing up for. He remembers having to hold their shoulders down whenever the survival instinct kicked in during the first few injections. He remembers watching their faces as they screamed for a mercy no one in that facility was ever going to grant them. He remembers carrying the bodies of the ones that died in the night, over and over for months, all the way to the incinerator.

Bucky tosses the tablet in his lap off to a spot next to his leg out of disgust. His eyes shut, and his hands come up to rub them hard enough to hurt. He needs sleep. Good, honest to god, medication-induced sleep. He hates relying on those damn pills—it’s not as if they help the other half of his problem, anyhow. Falling asleep is only the start of it. The real kicker is staying unconscious, and nothing he can find, even behind the counter, is going to work on his system for that long.

He needs it, though. It’s been weeks since he got more than a handful of hours at a time. Months since he slept for longer than eight. Steve always talks about crashing for ten at a time after an extended mission, and it makes him want to punch his best friend’s lights out. He’ll never say that out loud, of course, but god. If fucking only.

None of his anger toward Steve ever feels fair. The guy had the world’s worst life before the serum, and he’ll bare his teeth at anyone who tries guilting the captain out of the notion. None of them understand what kind of fresh hell it was being Steve Rogers, and all his undying spirit, while trapped in a body with ten billion health issues. If ever there was someone who earned the responsibility of that serum, it’s him, and Bucky’s damn proud of him for it. He spends his days trying to live up to it himself.

He looks over at the back of the analyst with a guilty expression. People used to dismiss Steve the same way he dismisses people now, whenever the anger simmers. 

“Davis, pull up your priority flags.”

The level four glances back nervously, then clears his throat and refocuses on his terminal. “It’s alright, sir, I’m working on sorting them now—”

“I know. That’s what we’ll be going over.”

“I—” Davis hesitates for a long moment. Bucky stares at the back of his head. “Sergeant Barnes, I’m very sorry about the—”

“This isn’t a reprimand.” Bucky clears his own throat, trying to knock the aggression out of his tone. It’s. A lot more difficult than he was expecting. “You’re new here, so I’m gonna give you the crash course. I’m in here a lot, at all hours. You won’t get a heads-up about it; I’m just going to show up. When I do, there are certain hotspots I’m going to need you to keep focused on. They’re not going to be tied to any active case. You’re not going to be able to tell which ones I need. I’m going to tell you what’s already on my radar, and you can establish your own categories from there. I’ll tell you what else I need you to add as it comes up.”

“Oh.” A little hope is entering the analyst’s tone. “Yeah, that—you know, that sounds like what I do for Romanoff already.”

Bucky frowns. The hell it does. She has exactly three people on the face of this Earth that she trusts to handle something like this for her. He’s willing to do it for convenience, and because he doesn’t give a shit what SHEILD sees him prioritize. He worked very hard to not give a shit about it, too. But Natasha doesn’t work like that; she’s very particular about her web of information—

His face goes completely slack as the connection finally happens in his mind. He’s going to kill her. No—actually. He’s never going to bring it up, ever, and they’re both going to die before a word ever gets said about it.

That’s just how their brand of family works.

“Yeah. Exactly like how Romanoff has you do it. Pull up her file structure; let’s go over what I’ll need you to change for my end.”

—

“Bitch! It feels like I haven’t hugged you in a year!”

It’s the only warning Ava gets before she’s tackled from behind. She braces her hands on the engineering bench in front of her, barely catching herself from crashing into it. “Two weeks and three days, but who’s counting? How was the flight home, whore?”

Paige leaves a loud, sloppy smooch on her left temple before backing away to let her up from the attack. “That part was fine—it was the team I got paired with, ugh. You’d have hated the guy runnin’ it.”

“How bad are we talking?”

“Eh, your typical good’ ol boy. Mister my way or the highway, with an ego the size’a the fuckin’ Potomac to match. You know the type. Spent the whole mission criticizin’ my tech.”

She looks over at her in surprised confusion. Paige taking shit from other agents is nothing new; that comes with the territory of her personality and most people’s assumptions. Her work is usually the one thing they leave alone. “How critical are we talking?”

“That was the thing—it was the dumb kind. The kind that could’a been avoided if he’d maybe RTFM.”

“And he made it your problem?”

“Over and over. Every ten minutes, it was—” Paige shimmies her upper body dramatically, her voice going low and gravelly. “Why can’t my AIO do this? How do I make it do that? Rogers’ team gets the reliable gear; why are we always stuck with the second rate?”

“He said that to your face?” Ava’s about ready to march through the tower to find the prick herself.

“Not that last one. That was to his buddy when the dipstick thought his comm was off. I got a half-baked publicist apology over it, and I’m pretty sure he only did it to save face in front of the team for leavin’ the mic open.”

“Report his ass.”

Paige waves a hand dismissively, then dumps her go-bag unceremoniously on the workbench. “I ain’t gon’ waste my time. I’ll let him hang his own noose; I’m sure he’ll get around to it with that attitude. Oh! I’ve got a mock-up for your pretty boy.”

Ava smiles, tossing one of her best friend’s rolls of duct tape between her hands. “I didn’t say he was pretty.”

“Puh-lease. You texted about his hair.”

“With the amount of shit man-buns have taken, it was surprising to see on a guy from a less than accepting decade.”

“You only notice stuff like that when you’re lookin’.” Paige tips her head forward, letting her heart-shaped sunglasses fall to the end of her nose. Her eyebrows waggle enthusiastically. “Is he as big as Rogers? I can never tell in the press photos with him always loomin’ like a gargoyle.”

The smile turns deviously smug. “He’s a little smaller than your not-so-secret admirer. You gotta figure that’s expected without the Vita Radiation.”

Paige reaches out to shove at her shoulder. “I don’t think Rogers has really nailed down what modern flirtin’ is yet. Ain’t fair to pin that on the guy. He’s so sweet! And I give him art projects! And anyhow, he rushes outta here like his ass is on fire most of the time—”

“It’s so weird how that happens whenever your dad shows up to hang out.”

She gets a very unimpressed look in response. “You’re readin’ int’a things.”

Leaning in close, Ava squints and whispers, “You’re being oblivious.” She backs up, her smugness returning. “So, I take it our friendship never comes up while you’re giving the captain art projects.”

“I... hmm. Not that I can remember. Why?” Paige looks over suddenly, then back at the bag she’s unloading with more than her usual level of interest. “Did he bring me up durin’ the visit?”

The glitter-sniffing demon not being allowed to communicate with her has been utter hell for two weeks and three days. But it comes with the upside of getting to drop this bomb on her all at once. “No, but I brought you up during Bucky’s first visit. That’s when Rogers realized he’d read your best friend the riot act the week before.”

Paige’s eyes go saucer wide. “You’re kiddin’. You got chewed out by America’s Sweetheart?”

“Funny enough, I called him the same thing while he was huffing and puffing in my office.”

“What the hell happened while I was gone? Did—” Her head swivels around, checking who’s around them. “Did? Y’know?”

Ava shakes her head, then hikes herself up to sit on the workbench next to the bag. “Nothing like that. Turns out he was going for a trial run, trying to see how well I hold up against a bad episode. Stormed into my office, playing up the asshole captain routine just to see what I’d do. Apparently, Tony set him up for it by not telling him about my VA work. He let out the hot air the second I called him on it. He’s pretty cute when he’s blushing, by the way.”

“Oh, tell me about it,” Paige mumbles happily, proving the accusation of obliviousness entirely right.

“The blush or the huffing?”

“I already know about the blushin’, even if I am ready to hear it again. But over dinner tonight. What’re we thinkin’?”

“You’re the one who’s been living off MREs for two weeks. What are you in the mood for?”

“Fuck, that’s a great question. Indian, definitely. No—wait! Sc-ratch that! I want Vietnamese. Actually, I want both.”

“Take-out picnic, got it.”

“And Italian donuts.”

“Okay, but I’m bringing half the order to work tomorrow. They’ll get stale if you pull an all-nighter to catch up.”

“Fiiine. Take my victory donuts to the masses, y’dirty Marxist. Lemme show ya what I worked on for Barnes before I forget.”

The field case she’s designed is cylindrical and shorter than the phones SHEILD issues most of their agents. Definitely something he’s going to be able to carry around with ease. The applicators that hook to the interior are simplistic and utilitarian. They’re entirely mechanical, with no chance of an EMP being able to disable them—a request from the Sergeant himself. 

“Tony says I can requisition some nannies whenever—I just gotta get your signature on the form since they’re medical grade.”

Ava tosses an olive from the jar she keeps stashed in Paige’s mini-fridge into the air. She catches it in her mouth on the first try for once. “You have one filled out already? I can sign it now; I know you like putzing around with them for a few days ahead of time.”

“Eh, it’s a standard cleaner tag; I’m not gon’ sweat it. I know you’re all worried about his brainstem and whatnot—”

“That’s usually part of my job description, yeah.”

“—but I feel like sterile’s sterile. Ain’t no way I can make the man cleaner than clean, y’know? Now, if you wanna talk settin’ ’em up for emergency maintenance, that’s a different story—”

“Your not-crush just walked into engineering,” Ava interrupts lowly, wanting to avoid the enhanced hearing even from way the hell over here.

In the most conspicuous way imaginable, Paige whips her head around to stare directly at the bay’s front entrance. In a rival amount of obviousness, Captain Rogers slowly works his way through the amassed benches, his gaze landing everywhere but Paige’s station. 

Ava’s eyes roll so hard it’s physically painful. It’s been one thing hearing Paige talk about getting drop-in visits from the super soldier who just so happens to enjoy the blueprints framed over her workbench. It’s another to see it play out in person. 

“He’s prob’ly here to check on the kit for Barnes,” Paige whispers back, tugging off her novelty shades.

“Yeah, that’s definitely why he won’t look at you right now—”

“He’s takin’ in the work goin’ on. He’s a curious guy, you know that—”

“And why he’s walking slow enough to trip over his own feet.”

“He’s admirin’ the—”

“He’s working up the nerve—”

“If you don’t fuck off with that, you lunatic—”

“Alright, now you’re being hopeless on purpose—”

“Good afternoon, Ms. Findley. I hope the trip was—oh.” Steve stops dead in his tracks, three feet from Paige’s farthest desk, his eyes finally landing on Ava. He smiles sheepishly. “Hi there, Dr. Ryder.”

Her grin feels positively carnivorous. “Hello, Steve. Come to welcome home our resident space cadet?”

“Hiya, Rogers,” Paige responds, turning with a smile almost as bashful as the captains. She spins back around, busying herself with the mess of wiring she’s pulled from her bag. “Don’t pay her any mind; she’s in a mood.”

“Something happen with the appointment today?” The concern that immediately surfaces knocks some of the teasing out of Ava. 

Some.

“No, Bucky played nice, I promise. I even brought him bagels to make up for being a half-hour late. Come to think of it, that’s probably what made me a half-hour late.”

Steve’s eyes go a bit wider, his smile softening. “You two had breakfast together?”

“I ate mine in the car. He took his with him. But I like to think we did so in spirit.” Her head tilts to the side innocently, refusing to let him off the hook. “So. What brings you to engineering?”

His hand comes up to the back of his neck, his expression getting… close to nonchalant. “I had some time on my hands—don’t wanna run off on a mission with Buck being a grump about medical orders; he might sneak out. Take your time with that, by the way. It’s impossible to convince the guy to take a day off. You’d be doing him a favor if you dragged your feet a little more.”

Using a best friend for deflection is a social skill Ava mastered years ago. He’s going to have to try a lot harder. “Who wouldn’t want to kill time in engineering? The wrench monkeys get to have all the fun. Maybe you should bring Bucky next time—”

“Oh, that’s—you know, I don’t think that’d be a real—he’s very particular about where he—I think maybe—”

“I think the sergeant would love to meet you,” Ava tells Paige, who’s biting back a grin with her head pointed firmly down at her workbench. “I was telling him some stories about you this morning. I think he might share a few of his own with some time.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Paige offers, still not looking up.

Steve lets out a nervous chuckle. “That’s—yeah, it’d—it could help out with his attempts to be social, and—you know. Hey, how was the mission, by the way? I forgot to finish asking.”

“It went just fine.” Paige shrugs, and that’s when it clicks for Ava why she was willing to jump topics so fast. Agent Dickhead really did hurt her feelings.

“Towanda,” Ava says plainly, calmly.

Her best friend’s eyes lift to hers. They stare at each other for a long moment. Paige goes through a silent argument that it’s not worth it; Ava silently insists that it very much is. It all happens through shifting eyebrows.

After a moment, Paige’s shoulders deflate, and she looks back at her work with a sigh. “You do it.”

Looking back up at a confused Steve, Ava crosses her arms over her chest. “You’ve got a real cunt running one of your away teams.”

“Oh, sweet lord,” Paige groans, her head falling into her hands with her elbows braced on the workbench. 

The captain’s eyebrows go for his hairline. “I’m sorry—I have a—I’m going to need a few more details.” He shifts his attention to Paige’s back, and his expression gets worried. “Did something happen? Who was your lead? JARVIS, can you grab me the associated reports on Ms. Findley’s latest away mission—”

“You don’t have’ta do that—“she tries to assure, her head coming up with blazing red cheeks. She hates confrontation. Absolutely despises it. 

Ava used to avoid it. She doesn’t bother much these days. “Actually, your name got thrown into the mix, Captain.” 

“Heeere we go.” Paige takes a deep breath in.

“Thrown into the mix of what?” Steve’s tone is shifting into the sub-zero range. 

“I’m not sure what Agent Fuckwad’s name is, but apparently, the guy thinks it’s not his job to understand his equipment. He also thinks it’s super cool to talk shit about the engineer that designed what he can’t wrap his head around. On an open comm. With her on the other end.”

“I have the mission data ready for transfer to your private feed, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS reports in. Ava doesn’t miss the smugness sitting in his tone, making her smile. She’s betting the AI has been fuming over this in his own way. He’s been protective of Paige ever since her first all-nighters in engineering.

There’s a boiling rage sitting in Steve’s eyes, one that’s rising by the second. When he steps up to tap the side of Paige’s arm with the back of his hand, it’s entirely held back from his voice. “Are you alright with me handling this?”

It’s Ava’s turn to raise her eyebrows in surprise. Extremely pleasant surprise.

“I—oh, fuck me runnin’.” Paige lifts her hand to scrub at her face. “Look, Rogers, I’m not tryin’ to get anyone in trouble here—”

“There are ways to go about this without leaving you holding the bag from a reputation standpoint. If the guy’s a—a... I tried, I’m sorry, I can’t get the word out—the point is, I can handle this in a way that doesn’t blow back on you.”

“Let him do it for the other people the dickwad is going to end up being a cunt to,” Ava suggests helpfully. 

“Exactly,” Steve agrees easily. 

Paige groans, shifting her weight back and forth. Finally, she nods with an uneasy sigh. “Alright. But—maybe just have it be somethin’ found from the logs? I really don’t wanna write up a—”

“Your name won’t come up. I’ll take care of it.”

Ava smiles, tossing another olive to catch in her mouth.

—

September 20th, 2015

Sam balances the plate of sliced sough dough and fresh fruit on top of a can of grape Fanta. He keeps his eyes locked on the way it wobbles back and forth as he makes his way down the hallway of the rented house. Propping the bundle of still-warm linens on his hip, he shimmies his hand off them enough to grab at the handle to Sergeant Miserable’s room.

The sack of personified despair is exactly where they last left him, hunched in on himself in the corner of the room. The pile of blankets under him used to be on the perfectly nice bed sitting in front of the window. The one with an unbelievable view of Finland’s countryside hidden behind tightly drawn curtains.

Their resident vampire, un-fucking-surprisingly, fled from it as fast as he could. Steve’s been grumbling about stealing the curtains while he’s asleep just to force the guy to look out the window on the way to the john.

Sam’s decided to start handling the food deliveries alone. It’s time to start pushing, even if Steve’s not entirely ready for it.

Bucky watches him move through the room, never saying a word. Not even when the plate of food gets put on the nightstand next to the bed, where they always leave it. He leaves them empty outside the door at night, so they know he’s actually eating. Poor bastard never looks angry, more just anguished. 

Sam sits on the side of the bed slowly, as gently as he can. He keeps his posture relaxed, his expression passive, and looks up at the newly freed prisoner of war. “You and I gotta come to an understanding on somethin’.”

Bucky’s eyes start out mostly hidden, thanks to the angle of his head. The shadows consume them entirely as his eyebrows come down. “What.”

One-word answer. That’s good. It’s a verbal day. “We gotta figure out where we’re at. Steve is too close. You’re gonna need someone pushing you on things he can’t. Things you need help with.” 

It’s not a subject he’s brought up with Steve. Being blunt feels like the better option here. He’s guessing the captain’s appeasement is starting to grate on nerves going through this much culture shock. Plus, there’s no pep-talk like a military pep-talk. 

“Do I strike you as an invalid?”

“You might not wanna—we’ll work on that. Point is, you need to start gettin’ comfortable with the new reality. Suck it up, Buttercup, the sky didn’t actually fall. The world’s still spinnin’. None of the big baddies who still know about you have the juice to catch you—”

“No, they don’t,” he confirms aggressively.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever, you’re huge and scary. You’re also an idiot sitting around wasting a full pardon. No one’s expecting you to start doing a press circuit. If you wanna walk off into the sunset and go find a picket fence to park your Transylvania routine behind, we’ll help you pack and send you postcards. If you wanna do what Steve did and pick up a life in SHEILD, let’s get you fitted in some Kevlar and find you a therapist. But let’s get you outta this fuckin’ room.”

Bucky’s eyebrows stay firmly set, keeping his eyes shrouded. “Why.”

“Oh my god, could you be more dramatic? Like, shit, if you really tried?” He stands up from the bed, headed for the door, his eyes rolling again. “You wanna know why? Because that’s what people do, Bucky. They hit the ground, they figure out if they’re still breathing, and then they get back up to fix what broke. You keep going for the ones who didn’t survive the landing; because they’d hate your guts if you laid down and died over them. Your friend Steve can tell you all about that if you ever feel like giving the man the time of day. No one’s asking you to do this alone.” 

Sam stops at the door, raising one finger and pointing it back accusingly. “You know what— I’m asking you to go outside long enough for a beer in three days. Besides that, it’s up to you how slow you wanna take this.”

“What’s in three days?” The comment is thrown out on a grumble, right when Sam’s nearly got the door closed.

“My birthday, asshole. I’d like to spend it somewhere outside of this house. And, believe it or not, I’d like you to be there.”

—author end notes—

idk abt other ppls trauma foods, but man when im Goin Through Shit all i can ever stomach is bread and bubbles so, for sure inflicted that on bucko. plums i feel like are His to pick up, y'know?

im putting the idiots in my own couples counseling since im robbing bucky of his best FATWS moment so far (yes it is the wrong about me line ty for asking). i also want it on record that grammarly tried to get me to change "the 30s" to "his 30s" and i had to be like no actually i just jacked our leading man from the restricted section of the smithsonian, thanks tho babe

and now you've met paige!! the storm in a bottle herself!! she gonna smooch the shit outta stevie. gonna try to do our babe peggy proud and have her knock that dweeb off his toes at every turn (not hard). still no clue if ill do a spin-off series for them since they're just background here, but i do know im doing some kinktober stuff for them. they get 10 of the days so far (yeah. yeah, its gonna be 4some territory in the last few days, but have no fear, the main fic((s? series maybe? look man im makin a plan as we go. all i know right now is good space and kinktober)) will stay monogamy focused). so, fans of super mega dirty steve, might wanna Check Back Later for those posts 🥰

[a-neverending-story]

"Bist du immer noch wütend auf mich?"

Vor einer verschlossenen Tür zu stehen war an sich nichts verrücktes. Vor einer verschlossenen Tür zu stehen, hinter der sich jemand verbarg von dem man nicht wusste, was er in diesem Moment für einen empfand, war merkwürdig. Und vor eben jener Tür dieser Person zu stehen, obwohl die Person das letzte Mal stocksauer war, war lebensmüde.

Lily kannte das Temperament ihres Bruders, wie sie ihr eigenes kannte. Immerhin war das einer der Punkte, in welchem sie sich bis aufs kleinste Detail glichen. Sie waren vielleicht von unterschiedlichem Geschlecht, hatten einen gewissen Größenunterschied und befanden sich nur selten am gleichen Ort, doch wofür verdammt hatte man einen Zwillingsbruder, wenn man nicht Angst haben musste, sich im nächsten Moment gegenseitig den Kopf ab zu reißen? Vor allem, wenn man nur Sekunden später füreinander vor eine Kugel springen würde, um den anderen zu retten. Denn wer hätte schon das Privileg den anderen zu töten, wenn nicht die eigenen Geschwister?

Nervös trat Lily von einem Fuß auf den anderen, die Hand erhoben, bereit zu klopfen, nur um doch wieder einen Rückzieher zu machen. Sie fluchte nicht gerade Ladyhaft, während sie sich von der Tür weg drehte und sich die Haare raufte.

Jacob war wohl der einzige Mensch auf diesem gesamten Planeten, bei dem Lily tatsächlich so etwas wie Nervosität spürte. Allerdings erinnerte sie sich auch an dieses eine Mal, als sie sich so sehr gefetzt hatten, dass Jake ihr aus einem Reflex heraus in die Schulter gebissen hatte. Wie so etwas passieren konnte? Tja, gute Frage, nächste Frage. Bis heute hatten weder Jake noch Lily eben diese Frage ihrem Vater beantworten können.

Als sie sich das nächste Mal zur Tür drehte um zu klopfen, blickte sie gegen eine muskulöse Brust unter einem schwarzen, eng anliegenden T-Shirt. Lily biss sich auf die Unterlippe, bevor sie die Augen ganz langsam an eben jener Brust nach oben gleiten ließ. Es war fast, als würde sie in einen Spiegel sehen. Zumindest was die Augen anging. Ihre Augen waren, als hätte man Copy Paste gedrückt und etwas, was einfach wundervoll vom Universum gestaltet worden war, zwei Mal auf dieser Welt verewigen wollen. Der einzige Unterschied waren die herrschenden Emotionen. Während Lily am liebsten eine Runde um den Block gerannt wäre, waren die Augen ihres Bruders umschattet von unterdrückter Wut. Doch er sagte nichts. Stattdessen verschränkte er die Arme vor der Brust und Mädels, wenn Lily das mal so als Schwester dieses Prachtkerls sagen durfte: Es sah verdammt gut aus, wie er da so stand.

„Bist du immer noch wütend auf mich?“

Lily klimperte mit den Wimpern, während sie zu dem Hulk von knapp 1.90 Metern aufsah und die Nervosität hinter ihrem perfekt einstudierten Engelsgesicht verbarg.

Sekunden vergingen.

Minuten vergingen.

Jake seufzte und Lily konnte das siegessichere Grinsen nicht verbergen. Doch statt etwas zu sagen drehte er sich einfach nur um und ging in seine Wohnung. Die Tür blieb sperrangelweit geöffnet. Ganz nach dem Motto Komm rein oder lass es bleiben.

Lily trat ein und ließ die Tür ins Schloss fallen.

Es war nicht das erste Mal, dass sie ihren Bruder besuchte und doch glitt ihr Blick über die Inneneinrichtung. Alles war Minimalistisch gehalten. Es befand sich allein das Nötigste in der gesamten Wohnung. Keine Familienfotos, keine Fotos mit Freunden, keine Pflanzen, keine Haustiere. Die einzige Deko waren die gerahmten Abschlüsse ihres Bruders. Die Farben beliefen sich auf schwarz, grau und weiß. Abgesehen vom Schlafzimmer und dem Wohnzimmer. Rote Decken und Kissen gaben diesen Räumen einen Farbtupfer.

Lilys und auch Jakes Lieblingsfarbe.

Ihr Bruder war nirgends zu sehen, während Lily die Doc Martens von ihren Füßen trat, ihre Lederjacke auf die Couch schmiss und die abgegriffene Packung Zigaretten aus ihrem Rucksack zog, bevor auch dieser auf ihrem Weg zum Balkon auf dem Boden landete.

Kaum drei Sekunden hier und schon brachte sie Chaos in das so penible und minimalistische Leben ihres Bruders.

Sie sagte nichts, als sie sich eine Zigarette zwischen die Lippen steckte und ihrem Bruder die Schachtel entgegen hielt, damit er die Letzte daraus nehmen konnte. Danach wanderte die leere Schachtel auf den geradezu winzigen Tisch, der zu den eisernen Stühlen passte, die der einzige Schmuck des Balkons waren. Lily ließ ihren Hintern darauf fallen und verzog sofort das Gesicht, als das kalte Metall ihren Körper berührte.

Es dauerte eine halbe Zigarette, bevor Lily erneut die Stimme erhob: „Also die Kleine, die du letztens in deiner Insta-Story verlinkt hast… ich würde die ja auch nicht von der Bettkante stoßen.“

Ihre Augen wanderten von der hässlichen Fassade des Nebengebäudes zu dem Profil ihres Bruders, der mit seinem Hintern an dem Geländer lehnte und durch die Scheibe in sein Wohnzimmer sah. Sein Mundwinkel zuckte. Nur ein ganz kleines bisschen, doch Lily hatte es genau gesehen. „Kira. Sie würde dir gefallen. Lässt sich nichts sagen, will immer mit dem Kopf durch die Wand und hat letztens einen ganzen Zoo aus einem dieser Versuchslabore gerettet.“ Lily begann zu lachen. „Ach, bist du jetzt wieder bei der Sorte Frau hängen geblieben? Ich dachte du wolltest die nächste Mutter deiner 30 Kinder finden und nicht deinen nächsten Fall vor Gericht.“ Als nun auch Jake begann zu lachen, war die Welt wieder in Ordnung. „Sagt die Richtige. Wie viel Geld schuldest du mir mittlerweile, weil ich quer durch alle Bundesstaaten gefahren bin, um deinen Arsch vor der Polizei zu retten?“ Immerhin sah er die zerknüllte Zigarettenschachtel nicht kommen, die Lily nach ihm warf. Sie traf ihn genau gegen seinen Dickschädel, um dann vom Balkon aus fliegen zu lernen.

„Jake, es…“ Doch sie konnte nicht einmal aussprechen, da war sie schon umschlossen von muskulösen Armen und ihr Gesicht verschwand an der Brust ihres Bruders. „Verstoß nicht gegen deine eigenen Prinzipien. Nicht mal für mich.“

Drei Sekunden. Drei kurze Sekunden lang hielt dieses schöne und geschwisterliche Verhalten an, bevor ihr Bruder sie in den Schwitzkasten nahm und ihr eine Kopfnuss verpasste. Darauf folgten allerlei Schläge und Beleidigungen und Lily wusste, dass es egal war, was sie tat. Ihr Bruder würde immer auf ihrer Seite sein.

[gedankenzerdenken]

T. schreibt mir auf meine verweinte Nachricht zurück:

"du fragst dich, warum es dich so mitnimmt, denn dieser mann war für dich da, aber er hat dir nur das bare minimum gegeben und du fragst dich warum es dich dennoch so mitnimmt:

ich verstehe total was du mit diesem bare minimum meinst. ich denke aber dass das "lediglich" in bezug auf das commitment zutrifft. was das anging, hatte er ne schraube locker und konnte dir wirklich kaum mehr als das minimum geben. ABER seine taten sprachen ja eine komplett andere sprache. er hat dir naemlich in deinem leben nicht nur das bare minimum gegeben, sondern auch recht viel: stabilität, sicherheit, du musstest keine angst haben, er war verlaesslich, hat dich zum lachen gebracht, hat viele kleine und grosse aufgaben uebernommen (wie reparaturen, einrichtungen etc.). und vieles vieles mehr

und das ist nicht das bare minimum

das ist das, was bei den meisten personen nur die engsten freunde oder der partner tut. bei manchen auch die eltern, aber you get my point

also wenn ich mal so zurueckblicke, hatte mir damals keine einzige situationship (j. oder p.), geschweige denn meine beziehung zu a., nicht annaehernd diese dinge erfüllt. niemand dieser personen war in so einem ausmaß fuer mich da, wie b. fuer dich. bei mir waren das zu dem zeitpunkt immer nur meine freundinnen, die diese aufgaben uebernommen habe

um den kreis also zu schließen:

ES IST VOELLIG NORMAL DASS ES DICH SO MITNIMMT

wie sollte es nicht???? selbst wenn du deinen alltag, deine routinen etc hast. das ist ein sehr grosser teil deines lebens gewesen. selbst wenn er nicht anwesend war, war er ja wie dein Backup. du wusstest dass er da ist. nur halt nicht bis zum aeussersten mit dir gehen wird und darueber hatten wir dann ja auch gesprochen, als ich bei dir war. dass das ein ziemlicher einschnitt werden wird, und dass er schmerzhafter werden wird, je laenger das zwischen euch geht. wobei es wahrscheinluch keinen unterschied mehr gemacht haette, ob ihr euch jetzt oder vor 7 monaten oder whatever getrennt haettet

warum er keine beziehung will: das werden wir wahrscheinlich nie verstehen, weil wir einfach komplett anders ticken. wir haben keine bindungsaengste, sogar eher im gegenteil. klar sind wir auch vorsichtig. aber wenn wir jemanden moegen und uns das vorstellen koennen, haben wir ja gar kein problem bindungen einzugehen. er muss sich wahrscheinlich auch fragen, ob die beziehung zu b. vielleicht auch aufgrund seiner fehlenden bindungsfaehigkeit so distanziert war. das was er nun bei dir zugelassen hat, war wahrscheinlich schon viel mehr, als er ertragen konnte. aber letztendlich schafft er es dennoch nicht, den letzten schritt zu gehen. Ich finde gut, dass er nochmal genaustens beschrieben hat, dass es nicht an dir liegt und ich finde auch, dass du dir das merken solltest. es lag nicht an dir. es liegt nicht an dir als person. b. hat ein problem. naemlich eine bindungsANGST. und diese angst kann ihm niemand nehmen. ganz egal wie toll man ist. er ist selbst komplett gefangen. und er wird irgendwann zurueckschauen und sich aergern, dass er dieses problem nicht fruehzeitig angegangen ist

hast du zufaellig die derzeitige bachelorette staffel geguckt? da gab es einen, der es nach seiner ersten großen beziehung nicht mehr geschafft hat, naehe und bindung zuzulassen. obwohl er total beduerftig nach liebe war und sich auch verlieben WOLLTE. aber er hat sofort immer panik bekommen, obwohl seine erste beziehung total toll und nicht schlimm oder schaedlich war. ich glaube uns wird es fuer immer schwer fallen, so etwas nachvollziehen zu koennen, oder? einfach weil wir da wirklich anders ticken und TOTAL bindungsfaehig sind. und auch die tatsache, dass du aufhoeren konntest zu weinen, als er dann endlich anfing, find ich total nachvollziehbar. er hat sich und dir dann endlich eingestanden, dass er lost und am arsch ist und dir eine emotionale regung gezeigt, die dich beruhigt hat und dir gezeigt hat, dass du nicht loco bist! seine traenen waren deine validierung, dass das was ihr hattet schoen war und er das problem war und ist. das hat dich in dem moment wahrscheinlich einfach in irgendeiner form erleichtert. gerade wenn du auch sagst, dass das gespraech davor davon gepraegt war, dass du dich gedemuetigt gefuehlt hast, weil du scheinbar generell mehr gefuehlt hast als er

er hat glaub ich einfach jetzt gecheckt (und da bin ich gespannt wie es ihm in den naechsten tagen ergehen wird) dass dieses "ich liebe dich, aber ich will keine beziehung mit dir" AUCH IHM WEH TUN WIRD. dass er dir damit weh tut, dass wusste er ja schon lange, deshalb war er dir ja immer so strange "entgegen gekommen" etc... aber jetzt wird er merken: der groeßte verlierer in der sache wird er sein. wir hatten ja beide im gefuehl, als wir in ms gesprochen haben, dass das demnaechst anstehen wird. weil es irgendwann zwischen dir und r. und zwischen dir und b. stehen wird. und ich glaube, so beschissen die situation sich jetzt auch anfuehlt, letztendlich ist es ja ne trennung, so gut ist es dennoch, dass es bereits jetzt passsiert ist und nicht noch später. bzw glaube ich nicht, dass b. in naher zukunft mit einer anderen gluecklich werden wird. wie soll das gehen? ehrlich mal

du hast ihm ja die groesste grundlage fuer eine beziehung gegeben und er hat sie nicht ergriffen. j. ist auch bis heute single. es gibt einfach bindungsprobleme, die sind real

und deine maennerauswahl war nicht random. also nur weil sich maenner nicht direkt aehnlich sind, sind sie ja nicht direkt random. du hast geschaut, wo du dich wohl fuehlst und wo sich gefuehle entwickeln."

[the-exes-lore]

Lore Part 4

Part 10 - Father and Son(rp between @king--of--ducks and @bigdoginthesky )

Part 11 - Careful(rp with @penguinmaster9999 )

Part 12 -Lies

Part 13 - Trust?(Rp with @penguinmaster9999 )

Part 14 - A Princess Comfort (rp with @penguinmaster9999 )

Part 15- Visit From an Engineer (rp with @penguinmaster9999 )

Part 16 - A secret deal (rp with @penguinmaster9999 )

Part 17 - Alone

Part 18 -Not Enough