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[kaleldobrev]

From Russia With Love

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: You’re the first person Ben goes to see after escaping from Russia

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Cursing (5x), Fluff

Authors Note: The sequel to Memories Are All I Have | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Forty years. Forty Goddamn fucking years without you. Forty years of not being able to kiss you or hold you in his arms. Forty years without being able to tell you how much he loved you; or hear you saying it in return.

But there was a part of him that started to wonder if you had moved on from him because of how long it has been. There was a part of him that wouldn't have blamed you if you did, but he dreaded the thought of you being with anyone but him. You were the only person he ever dreamt of being with, settling down with. You were the first person to ever tell him, "I love you," and it wasn't just empty words — you had actually meant it.

Despite it being almost forty years without you, he still loved you just as much as he did the last time he had saw you back in 1984.

As he walked along the Manhattan streets, memories of the two of you walking along these very streets started to flood him. He could hear the sweet, sweet sounds of your laughter. He could feel the softness of your hands in his calloused ones. He could hear you faintly saying "I love you" to him in his ear.

But that very brief memory he had of you was quickly started to fade away, as he heard music playing — a song that was all too familiar to him and not in a good way. It was a Russian pop song that the scientists would often play when they would experiment on him. When they would pierce his skin with various knives and force feed him chemical mixtures.

He dropped his bag that he had slung over his shoulders onto the sidewalk; and he could faintly hear someone asking him if he was okay, but their words sounded so muffled like he was under water. Hunched over, everything went pitch black.

19 dead and 12 injured — read the news banner in big, bold, black letters across the bottom of the screen. "Holy shit," you mumbled to yourself, watching the news footage in absolute horror. One second the building in front of you was standing tall and proud; the next second, the sounds of glass shattering and floors collapsing in on itself. Scorch marks could be seen distinctly.

As you watched the news footage, a part of you wondered what Supe could have caused that immense amount of damage. But for the life of you, there was no Supe that you could think of. Homelander briefly entered your brain, but his beams wouldn't be able to cause that kind of damage. Yes, Homelander was powerful, but there was no way he would be able to do something like that, not unless Vought somehow found a way to give him more power than he already had.

"We were able to get the CCTV Footage of who could have caused this terrible tragedy. Unfortunately, due to the angle of the camera, the face could not be seen. But if you think you may know the terrorist reasonable, please contact Vought immediately," the news anchor stated; Vought's number flashing across the screen quickly.

As you watched the footage, it was grainy, black and white, and hard to tell who the terrorist could have been. But from what you could see, it just looked like some guy with an unkempt beard wearing a tracksuit that you hadn't seen since about the 1980s.

The man was standing there holding some kind of bag, and all of sudden the bag just dropped to his feet and he hunched over, kind of like he was having some kind of stomach pain, and a large beam of light just exploded from his body. "Holy shit..." you mumbled.

When Ben arrived at his — your apartment — he couldn't help but have a small sense of nervousness, like there was some kind of knot in the pit of his stomach. This kind of knot was something that he always experienced whenever he was about to get tortured by the Russians, as he never knew what kind of cruel experiments they were going to do on him.

He eyed the door and sighed, hoping that you were still living here, as this was the last known address that he had for you. It was the only place that he had hoped that you would be, as this was the only place he had pictured starting and having a family with you. It was a cozy penthouse about a few blocks away from Vought Tower; and it was a place that you and him had bought together as a home away from home away from Payback.

With a deep sigh, he knocked on the door, praying quietly to himself that you would be the one to answer the door and not someone else.

As you were in the kitchen making yourself some coffee, you heard a knock at your apartment door and raised a brow as you weren't expecting anyone or anything today; not even a package.

As the coffee started pouring into the mug, you started making your way to the front door, and yet there was another knock; but this time, the knock was quicker, almost impatient sounding. You rolled your eyes, and let out a small groan. "Christ on a Cross," you mumbled quietly to yourself. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" You called out, hoping that the impatient knocking would cease.

Ben heard the pads of your bare feet walking toward the apartment door, and he could hear you slightly groaning on the other side of the door, cursing every so often. But one of the phrases you said had caught him slightly by surprise. "Christ on a Cross," he heard you mumble; and a smirk tugged the corners of his lips.

He heard the chain come off the door, and within seconds the door was open before him, and there you were looking exactly the same way you had the last time he had seen you forty years ago. "Fuck, you haven't aged a day Sugar," he said, his voice sounding more gruff than he had expected it to sound.

"Fuck, you haven't aged a day Sugar," a man that strongly resembled and sounded exactly like Ben said before you. But there was no possible way that this could of been him, as you were told by not only Payback, but by Vought and Legend that he had been killed by the Russians, and that his body was taken behind the Iron Curtain. But he had just called you Sugar; and Sugar was a nickname that Ben and Ben alone had called you, and tended to only call you when it was just the two of you alone together.

But the way he was looking at you was the exact same way Ben had always looked at you. It was the look of pure adoration and joy; the look of 'you are the most gorgeous person in the world to me.' And those eyes...those distinctive hazel-green eyes that only Ben had had were staring directly at you.

You were unsure if you were seeing a ghost or having one of your hallucinations, but you reached out your hand toward him and gently placed your hand on his cheek, feeling the caveman like beard underneath your palm. When your hand made contact with his cheek, he almost melted into your touch, and his free hand made contact with the one that was on his cheek; almost checking to see if you were real too.

When your hand touched his cheek, he had to hold back all of the feelings that he had slowly building up over the course of four decades without you; he had envisioned this reunion for so long. "Ben..." your voice was low, soft, almost slightly hesitant as if you were trying to make sure that it was actually him before you. "It's...it's really you isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's really me," he responded almost as low as your voice was.

Your hand released from his cheek, and you stared at him with such longing in your eyes; almost as if you were trying to hold back tears. Without anymore hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him, using that super strength of yours (practically squeezing him, and knocking the air slightly out of him), as your face buried a bit into his chest.

In that instant, Ben dropped the bag that was slung over his shoulder at this feet and wrapped his arms around you; giving you a similar type of embrace that you were currently giving him and rested his chin on the top of your head. "I've missed you so much," you told him; your face nuzzling even more into his chest.

He smiled into your hair and kissed the top of your head; an action that he didn't realize how much he missed doing until now. "I missed you too," he said. And for the first time in his life, he heard his voice breaking.

Tag List: @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream @midorimachisenpaii @rachiem4-blog @taraswifes @zepskies @jackles010378 @mrsjenniferwinchester @globetrotter28 @deans-spinster-witch @mrlonelycat @zombie-freak @waywardlatina @crystal555 @missscarlettangel @livingordeadwhoknows @79winchester @savagemickey03 @grx-deanslovr @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @the-achievementhunter If you’d like to be added to a tag list please follow this link

[octuscle]

The ghost of Beta Rho Omega

Jeff and Scott were standing in front of a hovel. It must have been an impressive house once. But the broken porch, the half-collapsed roof, the broken windows, it was all pitiful. And all in such an excellent location. The university campus was around the corner, with a few remaining fraternity houses in the neighborhood, but the majority of them were investment properties such as student residences, boarding houses and office buildings, with coffee shops and co-working spaces on the first floors. Not exactly their world. Jeff and Scott were the children of laborers, their children were laborers. In their minds, students were freeloaders and ne'er-do-wells. And in many cases, even voters for the Democrats. As I said: Not their world!

Their job today was to clear out the wreckage, tear down the porch and prepare the construction site for the excavators that would arrive tomorrow to clear the way for a new Starbucks or something. They didn't need to unlock the door, and they didn't have a key anyway. A powerful kick was enough. And the rotten wood gave way with a crash. A cat fled screaming from the dark room, which smelled musty. The young colleagues would have put on face masks by now. Wimps, Jeff thought to himself. They shone flashlights around the room. It looked as if a farewell party had been held many years ago and then the building had been abandoned. Beer bottles and weathered pizza boxes could still be seen in the thick dust. The furniture was covered in droppings from pigeons, cats and other animals. Scott went to a window and forcefully pushed it and the shutters off their rusty hinges. Fresh air! Thank God! And light that offered an even better view of the chaos. Part of the ceiling had come down. Water damage. The wallpaper was hanging in shreds from the walls. The only thing that looked surprisingly clean and intact was a large banner above the fireplace “verum homines olet, verum homines amant odor verus hominum”. Scott asked what that meant. Jeff replied if he looked like that, would he speak Spanish.

The two of them searched the first floor. The stairs leading upstairs didn't look like they could withstand two massive workmen. They would need a ladder. The kitchen smelled like rotten food and animal droppings. There were pictures hanging in a hallway. Some of them were a little yellowed. But surprisingly, the frames of the pictures were dust-free. On the frames were brass plates with names on them. And in front of each one was always the same: “Bro of the Month” and a date. Some of the plates were from the 50s, some from the 70s, some from the 90s. There must have been many more pictures in the past.

The shadows of the missing pictures could be seen on the wall. The last two Bros of the Month whose pictures were still hanging were called Jeff and Scott. And the Bros, who, like the other shirts, had BPO printed on them, clearly looked like what Jeff and Scott would have looked like if they had spent their high school days in the gym and on the football field. Jeff and Scott turned pale. Pale like the freshly painted wall behind them. Shit, Jeff had to throw up, was there a bathroom around here? He opened the nearest door.

White tiles, urinals, toilet boxes. Jackpot! He opened a box and broke into the toilet bowl. Shit, shit, something was wrong! Yes, there were puddles of piss and obviously more than one guy had jerked off here. But everything was in good condition. “Bro, everything okay in there?” Was that Scott? His voice sounded different. Younger. Deeper. ”Dude, are you jerking off? Or why is it taking so long?”

Jeff went back to the hallway. The guy standing there was probably Scott. With longer hair. And somehow… younger! Had he changed his clothes? Or had he been wearing the overalls all along? And damn it, why wasn't he wearing a helmet or a T-shirt. And Scott stank! Of sweat and musk. Shit, shit, shit! Scott raised an arm and scratched the back of his head. Like the Scott in the picture “Bro of the Month.” He inhaled the stench from his hairy armpit. A deep cave between large pectoral muscles and impressive biceps and triceps. Was Jeff seriously getting a boner? Scott began to knead the bulge in his crotch with the hand that wasn't scratching his head. “You like what you see, bro?” Why did Scott talk like that? “Bro,” that's what young, stupid college students called each other. Not workers. Like Jeff and… Were they workers? Scott had been his buddy since high school. Most successful quarterback in ten years. And he himself… Wasn't he… Right, the linebacker. Shit, maybe he'd just had too much to drink yesterday. Jeff flexed his pecs. He knew that made Scott hot. ”Of course I like it, bro! How about you? Do you like it?” On Jeff's naked chest, beads of sweat glistened in the chest hair. Scott lowered his dungarees and freed his cock from the yellowed and encrusted jockstrap. With one hand he jerked his cock, with the other he worked Jeff's right nipple. Jeff moaned, unbuttoned the waistband of his trousers Scott pushed Jeff back to the toilets and pushed him against a wall. He spat on his dick and began to insert it into Jeff's ass. Shit, why couldn't the two of them be together for half an hour without having sex?

Last night's party had gotten out of hand again. Like almost every party at Beta Rho Omega. Jeff and Scott were on garbage duty this time. Damn, a few of the chairs in the dining hall had been broken. That happened quite often, too; the BPO members were the biggest guys on campus. The alumni were used to writing regular checks for new furniture. The guys from Rho Epsilon Epsilon Kappa across the street had really overdone it again two years ago; their house had to be completely renovated. But hey, that was the neighborhood: a bunch of frat houses where big, dumb guys competed to see who could throw the best parties. A few went to college. But they were just a few nerds.

Pics by @ki-kink, inspiration by @rowdy317

[court-jobi]

When Asking Feels Right

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work/art))

Pairing: Midoriya x reader (fem!reader is an active pro-hero)

Words: 3.6K

Rating: T+

Warnings: canon-typical injuries, love confessions, mentions of intimacy, talk of marriage, BIG FEELINGS, light injury aftercare, language, because Katsuki Bakugou knows no other way

Summary:

You know Izuku loves you, and proudly tells anyone within earshot just how much he adores his darling pro-hero. But it's not until a close call that 'Kacchan' convinces you just how much the nerd means it. Making you pull yourself together for the sake of his best friend solidifies the fact that you are the love of Izuku Midoriya's life, and he's damn well sure gonna keep you alive to do something with that information. Bakugou might be barking at you gruff as always as he's trying to keep you conscious, but when he says it like he means it, you pay attention.

A/N: Ok yall's love for Let's Heal Each Other has really surprised me, thank you so much! Here's more of our favorite boy, feat Bakugou in full guard dog mode

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

“OI, WATCH YOUR TEN!”

Forced to the ground hard, you’re dazed– but not totally crushed. 

There’s a host of noise around you that grates on your senses: groans of steel supports, concrete and drywall crumbling in batches around you; it's now just a slow burn of collapsing chaos. But considering this portion of the building just fell apart not three feet from where you were once standing, you consider this a blessing. You’d deal with a sore hip than be dead. 

One thing you didn’t know was who did the saving of your ass, until you try to turn around and another support starts falling off in chunks–

“STAY DOWN, ALREADY–” a firm, hot hand cushions the back of your head from smacking the ground needlessly, but he’s not exactly gentle about it.

Dynamight?.. Bakugou– or ‘Kacchan’ as you hear him called at home– he’s– the one pulling a full body shield on you?

You cough from the debris and your ‘guardian angel’ makes sure to not press down on your back too much so you don’t feel smothered. With a gruff hand, he bats the air around your faces to will the dust away so you both can catch a breath. He hacks right along with you, he’s still human after all– but at least he does so from over your shoulder, a courtesy.

Soon enough, the shifting of earth and rock and damage settles, and Bakugou detaches himself from the kneel over you and lifts you up from under your arms to get you to a sitting position at the only remaining wall he deemed supportive enough.

You are equal parts amazed and confused watching the agency hothead acting like the most dashing hero you’ve ever seen, and you're lowkey shook that this attention is being put on you  when he presses you back and crouches back to your level with a guarded eye. 

"You ok?"

"Nngyeah?"

"You hurtin’?"

"Ouch. Nah, just my head a little-- OOF–”

Bakugou’s looking you over with a hard hand on your jaw, peeling aside your hair not too gracefully with tough, padded gloves, fussing over you with a concerned scowl.

 “-BAKugOU!"

The pieces click together a moment too late: you'd blurted at him right as you realize why he’s looking at you like this, so intently– you're bleeding from the head.

"A fucking head wound isn't a LITTLE PROBLEM, DUMBASS- /Oi, I need a med evac at the old Sorgan hospital! Look for the smoke on the southside, that’s where we fuckin’ are–/ FUCK, he's gonna KILL ME for this!!"

You bawk at the way he looks– nervous.

Your teammate's concerned as most coworkers at your agency would be, but for the chilliest of your pals, he’s looking uncharacteristically wild about it… like he seems inclined to punch you for it if you were only in better shape. Instead, Bakugou just picks you up and sets you on some slanted rubble to get you sitting higher. While your head bobs at a lag, you watch as he’s rummaging in his waistline's pockets for that dry cloth he's supposed to keep better accessible for first aid.

"YOU DAMN IDIOT,” Bakugou gripes not too angrily, “You’re NO BETTER than he is, jumpin’ into shit--HOLD THIS–"

You're starting to worry why he's so mad. It’s not like your quirk can directly correlate to the building falling via explosives; that’s his department. You followed your path to an opening of the building altogether as directed. In the mess of it all, you had to get creative with your exit strategy which did put you at a disadvantage, but it all had worked out even after facing off with the last batch of villains before the entire wing came tumbling down.

You honestly thought he was just being heroic and appreciated him literally keeping you from being crushed- only now as you want to thank him, you're sure it would fall on deaf ears. He must be angry that you were there in the first place for him to have to tend to now.

 "I-- that could have been really bad, I guess-"

"You 'GUESS'?" Bakugou's tone demands that you look him in the eye while he talks to you, right as he's staring you down incredulously, "Yeah, I saved your damn ass from getting CRUSHED, - and it's on MY HEAD if something happens to you while you're on my watch!!"

You feel sarcastic, "Well, thanks a lot, m’sorry for the inconvenience. Wassn’t my fault for the building though…”

He swishes a bit of remaining water on the cloth and jerks your head to the other way, ensuring the other scratches aren’t actively sporting fresh blood. “Tch, well running towards the sound was a pretty DUMBASS move!! Don’t know where you got that from!!”

“I can’think a few heroes who migh’...”

“Yeah, DEAD heroes!!”

Sheesh, nothing will please him when he gets like this. You tried for a last stretch of sympathy behind a pounding headache, “Well, m’sure Deku will appreciate you keepin’ me alive, so m’tryna say thanks."

"Yeah he damn well better, if he doesn’t wreck m- HEH??! SIT. THE HELL. DOWN!!"

At your try to stand up and join him in getting out of the alcove, you squatted back,

"What?!"

Bakugou pushes up his facemask more like a headband so you have no choice but to see him clearly. He smooshes your face in his palms- risky, given he's fully sweaty and the smell would be enough to turn you away-- but the way his hands are shaking forces you to stay still and pay attention.

"YOU are the love of his life, dumbass,” Bakugou threatens seriously. “You're the sparkle in his eye and you are damn good for him, so I'm sure as hell gonna make sure nothing happens to you if I can help it-- and you runnin' around with a concussion ain't making my job easier. So SIT. down."

You don’t blink or breathe.

"-I’m sat."

He fixes you a challenging look, then lets go of you to get a better view of the street to check on the ambulance.

He's protective. Because he's loyal to Izuku, he's loyal to you.

But you’re still stunned on what he said- like it was God’s honest truth and an immovable fact.

Pressing down on the tight space at the base of your sternum, you feel for something past your suit’s seam. "Did he say that?"

"Say what?" Bakugou shouts back tirelessly from the hole he’d opened for ventilation; you imagine he may not be hearing so well after this fight. Despite how cheesy it sounds coming out of you, you clarify with a hand to the gauze up against your head,

"-me being that? For him?"

Bakugou scoffs with a smirk, "Only reminds me every damn day I see him."

You can see it, after all. It happens with enough frequency that you know the two talk even before starting patrol with you. The routine of Midoriya meeting up with Bakugou like how you imagine they did in their school days: your adoring boyfriend sharing news of his curriculum workload in earnest, and retorting to his best friend’s loudmouth brand of bragging about his villain count for the week, followed by turning the tables back to Izuku and asking for the nerd’s professional opinion about his performance- and what he thinks he should be strengthening. 

It makes perfect sense that you should come up in conversations, but to know now that Izuku speaks of you in this way? Past the usual lovey-dovey pleasantries Bakugou usually gags at? It should have made you happy, but given the pulse in your throat and the general ache radiating from your -everywhere-, you sniffle– Your concern weighs you to your seat now that you probably have Izuku worried sick. If he’s glued to the news for televised coverage on missions that he knows you’re working on, he would have seen this whole ordeal in real time. 

And in the entire time you’ve dated Izuku, the whole relationship where you’ve stayed in sync with each other despite working in entirely different fields (namely you remaining in the clearly more dangerous one), Izuku never once discouraged you. 

-Never asked you to scale back or retire for the sake of his fears over you. 

-Never asked you to do anything other than ‘be as safe as you can, and do your best to come back to me’. 

He believes you were a hero- just as you believed he was, too. But God, if it didn’t kill you inside to think of breaking his heart over and over as he sat on his break room couch watching close calls. 

You know had he been here on duty instead of Dynamight, your sweet Deku would have been the one here trying to lift you up and perhaps put your worries at ease getting the chance to help you and see you through to safety. But Katsuki Bakugou is hardly that touchy-feely, so having to come up with a pep talk to yourself is hard.

"Oi-"

You toughen up to look back at him, but get a softer response than before.

"You're gonna be ok. I got your back, didn't I?"

You nod.

"I will, y'know. Have your back. Just don't make it difficult."

You nod again, about to cry.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, shaking it off and catching sight of the blue and red lights before he fully hears them. "You, with the waterworks too? Match made in heaven, I swear to GOD."

That night, you are hardly in any shape to drive yourself home and a bit too unsteady to even wrangle with public transit, so naturally you ask Izuku to come get you. With a faithful grin, he looks incredibly happy to see you in the agency lobby- if distracted momentarily by your expertly wrapped head and script bag in hand.

When you meet downstairs, you reign in your immediate reaction to seeing him like you normally would. It's busy tonight- teeming with interns, a changing out of a few vending machines, and a friendly spat between two other sidekicks is happening not far from the evelator you just stepped from. 

The building’s deceptively cheery security officer sees you coming, and shares to your boyfriend that he is going to put on a podcast, taking a moment to fiddle with putting his earbuds in and ‘conveniently’ switch over to his shades against the setting sun, which allowed you the sneaky propriety to fully hug Izuku, as quick and tight as you could before getting in the car. 

Talk in the car consisted of the usual after missions, which felt familiar and good. Obviously your darling didn’t hide his concern, but between your assurances were legitimate questions about how the villains were apprehended, what he’d watched, and the interest he gave in what the news didn’t cover- like asking more about your civilian recovery efforts and compliments about how many were saved today. This kind of cool down genuinely helped you leave work at work, and you appreciated that so much. It was a short drive, which you spent mostly holding Izuku’s hand in both of yours and receiving little kisses on that hand at stoplights. 

You walked arm in arm with him up to the second landing of your apartment, with him finally running through the more caring questions of ‘does it hurt to climb?’ ‘Throbbing or dull pain?’ ‘Are you hungry, or are the meds making you feel sick?’ 

You knew he’d be clingy and honestly needed that constancy after such an explosive afternoon. He was insistent on taking off your coat and getting your laces off with minimal effort from you, which you adored on any old regular day– but the waterworks came flooding back so hard while watching Izuku on his heels taking care of you that you stopped him altogether.

"-I remember the concussions Denki would have after going too hard with his quirk, too- ‘Chargebolt’, I think you’ve met. ‘Course, I think it affected his nervous system more than anything else-- w' h-honey? Are you crying?"

"Please just get up here~"

You hugged him tight the second he rose to full height,

"Oh sweetheart," Izuku petted your hair as you muted your cries, "Sweetheart it's ok, you're ok."

"I love y’so much..." you eeked out from a tight throat.

The eyes unseen over your shoulder stung at your words, but squeezed in just as tight there in the foyer.

"I love you too, honey. So, so much." Izuku kept you close and just rocked you in place to ground you, "Were you scared today?"

You nodded.

"I'm sure it was scary. Would have scared me too, being caught in the middle of all that," Izuku cooed over your shoulder. "Y'know it's okay to let it rattle you sometimes. That's why we're all here to support you. Help you bounce back."

//I have your back// Bakugou’s words hit you again in a wave. 

"It.. would have landed on me. I was right in the impact zone, when the southwest end came down," you sunk into Izuku’s neck at the memory, "...Bakugou got to me first. I wouldn'tve gotten out without him."

Izuku breathed out, touched beyond measure. “...he did?...”

"H'yelled at me for being stupid," you chuckled mirthlessly, "but he said some things. Really big things. And I'm just so sorry it happened at all! I don't wanna worry you when I’m out there!"

As you rushed through the emotions; not just of this fight, but filled to the brim and spilling over with other close calls like it. Izuku had a hard time understanding what was said that upset you, and just held you through it.

"C’mon, let's sit you down," Izuku picked you up like the koala you were and took you over to your couch, sitting with you perched in his arms. 

No longer surprised at the incredible strength he still carried -being able to pick you up like your dead weight was nothing- you sunk into his safety, solace found in his pressed shirt collar.

Your apologies turned into cries within a few minutes of settling in. 

The poor man's heart broke all over again, holding you tightly through your sobs, and hushing you through them. The crying was only going to make your headache worse. He knows this from experience, unfortunately… so even though he usually encouraged you to ‘feel your feelings to the fullest’, he did make an attempt to still you this time. Izuku pressed kisses to your warm forehead.

"Honey, easy, honey... what big things did Kacchan say?" 

//you're his spark//

//you're just like the damn nerd//

//match made in heaven//

//you're damn good for him//

"Tha-That I was... the love of- your life?"

Unseen, Izuku's sights widened. But had you been watching him and not hiding in his complete, cozying embrace, you would have seen the proudest look of love lifting those cheeks of his. How he smiled despite the concern he held for you in this moment, and took a grand look around the room - at the life you were tending to and nurturing together with fondness.

"You are the love of my life," Izuku assured you gently with the sweet coupling of your name, "Have I never told you that?"

Shown, certainly, but never told so beautifully. And to have come from Bakugou’s harsh lips of all people, the revelation was jarring in more ways than one.

You whispered 'no', but didn't let go for the life of you. Wouldn't ever let go of this darling man if he’d allow you to stay.

"-M'ere, look at me. Just for a minute, look here~"

You pressed back from his hold with unwilling muscles, only to be cradled in his hands. Green eyes full of tears looked back at you but with a full, strong smile forcing bravery forward.

"You -my sweetest girl- are the love of my life. I love who you are now, and who you're going to be forty, fifty, sixty years from now,” he pet your hair back and away with a little shaky nod, “and yeah- I might lose my lunch every now and then watching you out there…”

You sniffled again, baffled at how telling you all this could possibly be making him chuckle through his words–

“--but I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve watched the same tv screen and been so insanely proud of you! To watch you go out there and win, and shine, and– I can stomach all that fear. I can do that. Because I know you and I believe in you! And I am so thankful that I happen to know the heroes you do this hard work with can help take care of you and have your back. That’s what it’s all about- doing it together.”

You hang on Izuku’s every word of affirmation. It’s the language he’s best in, no matter the subject. Thankfully, right now, he's set on putting you back on solid heartground- assuring you of everything you doubt about yourself. Your power, your inspiration, all of it.

“You’re saving people- helping those who can't do it themselves, and you do it so well, love. These scary things happen… but honestly? It only makes me love you more for facing it like you do. And getting up the next day, and watching you come at it again.”

You keen under his full attention. The praise and love he’s washing you with is so earnest and filled with pride, it kills you to ever have obligations elsewhere in the world outside of his company.

Surely you can just stay supple in his arms for eternity and no one would miss you. 

“So you don’t need to be out there worried about what I’m thinking of you,” Izuku worked on wiping your blurry tears, “because I’m going to double down on replacing those worries in your head. I’m going to remind you every day of it. You’re never going to not have me in your corner, because you are the love of my life.”

Soothed and emotional in an entirely different vein, you nod you head back with a firm, brave smile of you own, before gingerly pulling him close for a little forehead touch, a well-earned kiss, and another hug latched around his shoulders. 

Izuku tended to you after your hero work in a number of ways, depending on what you've weathered that day: from taking off your shoes, cooking you a meal, holding you soft and sweet against his body on the sofa like this, or even helping you burn off any excess steam on the particular amorous nights where you just feel too alive to not show him exactly what your primary reason for fighting is. 

To protect him. To protect everyone you love and care for. Making your family proud both here and heavenward, and proving to yourself that you can do the hard things. Having a partner to support you in this work is an invaluable bolster in your life, and you feel it in every swipe of his hands up and down your back in this exact moment. 

His touch assures you just as much as it comforts him. Tells you how much you're appreciated and welcomed when you reach the end of the day like it soothes him to have you safely off the streets. You also know that any tear-filled nights on his end come from a place of complete affection and commitment and you don't really care how much Bakugou or any of your other workmates might tease you for being soft right along with ‘the damn nerd’. 

He's your damn nerd. The one you come home to and plan to spend the rest of the evening tending to your headache and scratchy throat and whatever other hurts have trickled out from your tough shell. 

From about your fifth date on, you'd felt in your gut that ‘Midoriya’ was likely going to be the name you'd be filling out as your emergency contact for life, so you started doing so on your contract renewals. That probably proved he was the love of your life, too, even if you didn't say so outright. 

Content to hold you forever, Izuku still asked of you gently, 

“Poor thing, you gotta be exhausted. I know you showered, but would you like a bath to let the steam help?” He kissed your nearby shoulder within reach, “It'll help the drainage go away.”

That sounded amazing and all but guaranteed he'd like to stay as close to you as possible. You hummed in the affirmative, close to bursting. 

“Good. We’ll get that started, whenever you're ready. Anything my brave girl wants.”

There's truly only one thought on your mind- the insistent proof of it lies hidden beneath your sweater neckline, slid onto a long silver necklace:

A ring sized for Izuku is something you've worn every patrol for a couple months now, and is practically burning as you adjust your seat on his lap to find his face. 

You're fishing past your collar uncomfortably, looking for the damn thing tangled with your agency lanyard, but dead set that you can't go on without him wearing it.

“Hm? I'm here, hon’, what do you need?-- what's-… Baby. Oh baby, what's that...?”

You hold the ring still looped on the chain, lifted for him to see between fingers that don't shake anymore. Firm and steady. Because he's loved you so well and so thoroughly tonight and every night, it's the easiest thing to ask the stunned, gorgeous man beneath you,

“Marry me.”

[euhla]

HOUSE OF CARDS aventurine x gn!reader

summary “a house of cards, and us inside,” a phrase that aventurine often says in between your endless arguments. you always thought that your relationship will be happy and full of affection, only to be met by illimitable arguments.

⌕ ... angst, hurt/comfort, light angst, spoilers (aventurine’s past), mentions of kakavasha, both reader & aven is tired n they broke up once in the past, arguments, gambling, pet name, anxiety ??, based on this song n my hc on this post. a/n : post for celebrating aven’s banner ! aventurine wanters will be aventurine havers :3

all day your head has been feeling dizzy after continuously hearing screams from your boss. he felt he could call and curse people whatever he wanted, not knowing that he was actually the main problem.

your body shaking violently made you feel vulnerable as you leaned on the wall next to prevent you from falling. exasperation is no longer there, easily replaced by your disgust that you can't do anything.

and that’s when you realized that there’s no smell of alcohol that always wafting through your nose. it’s strange, you think. you look around, only to be greeted by gloom and despair atmosphere.

there was only one thing that crossed your mind; “he's gambling again isn't he?” he always does it, even though his left hand always holds the chip tightly. even though he continues to doubt the blessing he received since birth.

knowing the blessings he received, you should be able to calm down; in the end replaced by restlessness doubt. what if he loses? what if he’s in trouble now? what if, what if…

and you should not doubt the blessings of gaiathra triclops, because the door next to you suddenly opened and revealed aventurine standing—while holding his injured arm.

the two of you stared at each other awkwardly for three seconds, before you opened your mouth and said, “seriously?”

You don't know whether it's because of exasperation or short of infuriation you feel right now, you immediately said that. the next thing you know, you regret it.

“what? i just came home and you greet me like that?” he scoffed.

“aven, you’re hurt.”

“of course, it’s my job afterall.” you held your forehead, feeling the dizziness appear again and this time it was more painful. “and now you act as if this is all my fault.”

you frowned at his statement. “i’m not blamming you.”

“i’m just worried because you always come home like this!”

aventurine sighed. after that he walked past you without saying anything. "at least let me treat you, just once."

your question was only answered by excruciating silence. at least answer the question.

‘no way, no way, it’s collapsing again.’

aventurine remained sitting on his king size bed which was mostly occupied by himself. he was just silent, thinking about what had just happened. i shouldn't have said it.. i shouldn't have refused.

i should have known it from beginning; we're both tired. and why do we keep trying?

aventurine is now standing, ignoring the fresh wound on his arm that he still hasn't treated. before it’s too late, he think. there is still time to apologize.

that soft knock on your bedroom door should be enough to tell you that he wants to apologize. he’s standing in front of the door with a feeling of unease that never went away, and then you opened the door.

with blurred vision and barely able to see the figure in front of you, you remained standing. "sorry," you both said it at the same time. the only words you both could say at that time.

“i’m so sorry, aven. i’m too tired that i can’t think clearly. i should always try to understand you because that's your job.” your words stopped because of your sobs. “i—“

“—a house made of cards, and stupidly, us.” aventurine stopped your words. he smiled disappointedly at himself. "we're both exhausted, and there's no one to blame.”

“i’m sorry that i’m always telling you that we can do it again. i… didn't think twice about how you feel about this,” he said.

“i always dreamed that we could live happily together like this. i’m sorry baby, it’s such a useless dream, isn’t it?”

you tried to hold back your sobs. “even if you say it’s a useless dream, just stay a little more like this. i’m okay with this.”

there will be tomorrow and we can try this again, you think. time will slow down just to let the two of you fix the mistakes in the past that once caused you to broke up.

“when i said that i don’t need you to treat my wounds, it’s because… i’m ashamed by myself; my body, my wounds, my past. i don't want your hands to touch any part of me that is despicable.” you were surprised because you never once thought he was despicable.

“aven, it's in the past, and it's not your fault.“ your hands found their way to wrap around his body. “you can rely on me now, please.”

“kakavasha.”

“please call me kakavasha from now.”

you smiled. “yes, kakavasha.”

in the end, there's nothing wrong with trying again.

[roosterforme]

Always Ever Only You Part 11 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley gets a few second chances in the midst of a deployment he would rather not have to complete. He just wants to be home with you, trying to fix what is broken. But he doesn't know how much you've been struggling.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff

Length: 5100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

Bradley felt devastation. Were you really going to make him wait the full eight weeks before you would talk to him? He couldn't do it. He had too much to say, and he needed to see your face.

"Fuck." He entered your phone number and tried again. And again. But as he was about to enter it for the fourth time, he grasped the iPad and forced himself to stand. 

"No answer?" the officer asked when Bradley handed it back to him. His response was somewhere between a nod and a shrug, and he felt like crying. "Want me to add you back onto the list?"

"Please," Bradley rasped, swallowing hard. It was still dinnertime. He could go back and get something to eat. But he'd lost his appetite, and even though he didn't mind bunking with Bob, having a few minutes alone in the room sounded like his best bet. 

It felt like his feet weighed a ton as he walked along all three corridors and down a flight of stairs before he was at his bunk door. And then he collapsed onto his bed without even removing his boots. You always picked up. You always answered his calls. You even answered after Josh attacked you. 

Bradley thought he was going to be sick. And then Bob unlocked the door and let himself inside. "Hey, Bob," he grunted, rubbing his temples with his fingers. 

"Oh. You seem annoyed that I'm here," he replied, closing the door very slowly. "Do you want to kick me out again so you can have the bunk to yourself?"

Bradley turned and looked at him, thoroughly confused. "Again?"

Bob blushed a little bit as he kept his hand on the doorknob. "Uh, yeah. Last time we bunked together? A few years ago? You kicked me out of the room in the middle of the night."

Bradley sat up on his bed. "I did?"

"Yeah," Bob said softly. "You came back annoyed with me. You asked me to leave. You had a woman with you."

Bradley felt even sicker now. He could vaguely remember what Bob was talking about. A deployment before he met you. It had been late. He wanted to hook up. And Bob had been his roommate at the time. 

"I can't believe I did that," Bradley whispered, getting to his feet and taking Bob by both shoulders, leading him away from the door. "That's never going to happen again." He gave him a quick hug. "I'm sorry. I don't want you to leave the bunk, okay? And I'm not going to hook up with anyone, unless my wife miraculously appears here and decides she still loves me."

Bob nodded. "She still loves you."

"I know she does," Bradley replied as he sank back down onto his bed. This time he removed his boots and tossed them next to the door. "I just need to do a lot better. I just want to have a happy wife."

"Yeah," Bob agreed, also untying his boots. "She makes you a lot better. You don't kick people out of their rooms anymore, and you always remember everyone's birthday."

Bradley groaned and nodded. "That's because she remembers everyone's birthday, and she reminds me."

Bob smiled and nodded as he pulled out some notebooks and a pen. "You were still annoyed though. When I came in just now. You can tell me why if you want to."

Bradley sat up and faced Bob across the few feet of space between their beds. "She didn't answer when I tried to call her. This is a first."

"Hmm," Bob hummed thoughtfully without saying anything else.

"Yeah," Bradley added. "There's a lot I want to tell her. Shit she deserves to hear. I'm afraid I'm going to forget or completely fuck it up by the time I get to talk to her."

Bob tried to hand him a notebook and his pen. "Write it down."

"Write what down?" Bradley asked, cautiously taking the offered items and flipping through the notebook which was empty.

"Write down all the things you want to say. I started journaling a few years ago to help organize my thoughts and manage my anxiety. I think it's helped me in a lot of ways, including making me a better, calmer aviator. But you could write notes to or about your wife. See what works."

And then Bob started writing in the other notebook, leaving Bradley to his own thoughts. He opened up to that first, pristine page and placed the pen to it.

Dear Baby Girl

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

You felt great after Sunday brunch with Cam and Maria. As soon as you got there, you said, "We've been trying to get pregnant. I'm not pregnant. Let's have mimosas and not talk about Bradley." And they listened. And it was wonderful. And it's not that you didn't want to talk about him or think about him, it was that you really needed a break. Because he was the only thing you were thinking about. 

On Monday, as soon as you got to work, it felt like you were leaving again for your doctor's appointment. You didn't even want to go. You didn't want to get on the scale. Ever since you overdid it on your honeymoon months ago, you'd been afraid to weigh yourself, because you knew this could be adding to your issues. 

When the nurse took your blood pressure and then told you to get onto the scale, you couldn't even look at the readout. You'd bring it up to the doctor in private, away from everyone else in the hallway. 

And then you were led back to an exam room and left to squirm around on the paper covered table in the rough hospital gown while you stared at your uniform folded neatly on the chair by the door. Your name tag was boldly reminding you that you'd tacked Bradshaw onto your last name. When your doctor walked in, she used your full hyphenated name when she greeted you, and you tried to smile. 

You thought about Bradley as you decided to get everything out of the way right from the start. "I want to talk about my weight. And fertility."

But a few minutes later, you were sitting with your mouth hanging slightly open. "You've lost almost fourteen pounds since this time last year. Were you intentionally trying to lose weight?" she asked, eyeing you carefully. 

"N-No. I thought I gained a lot of weight. I've been nervous to check. I'm...trying to get pregnant."

She nodded and started to examine your eyes and ears as she said, "You need to make sure you're taking care of yourself. Eating well. Three meals a day. Healthy snacks. Exercising." Then she looked you in the eye. "Based on your age and general health, I can refer you to a specialist once you've been trying for eight to twelve cycles without success. And your husband can have some tests run then as well."

"Right," you replied with a soft sigh, thinking about Bradley's exceptionally fucking awesome sperm once again. But you cracked a smile. "I'm already five cycles in, so halfway there."

She nodded. "You just give me a call if you need to."

You left the medical building, still adjusting your uniform and wondering how you'd lost so much weight without noticing. But your pants were feeling a little loose now. And so was your shirt. They were snug after your honeymoon. Had you lost fourteen pounds in just a few months?

When you reached your car, you closed your eyes and swallowed past the lump in your throat. You were not taking very good care of yourself. You could barely remember the last time you had lunch at work or ate something other than a protein bar for breakfast. Memories of lavish weekend breakfasts with Bradley filled your mind. You'd be perched on his lap, sharing one plate full of eggs, bacon, potato pancakes and grilled vegetables. When was the last time you did that? Spent an hour eating breakfast together with the occasional brush of Bradley's mustache along your neck? 

You had to wipe your tears away as you unlocked your door and climbed inside. You started the engine as you pulled your phone out of your bag. 

"No!" 

Missed FaceTime call from RESTRICTED

"Fuck!" Your fingers were shaking as you tried to enter your passcode. Then you tried to call back. Not Connected. Not Connected. Not Connected. 

You sat in your car and cried. You missed a call from Bradley. It must have been him. You missed it by seven minutes. And now it could be weeks before you got another opportunity to talk to him. 

Panic rose in your chest. He probably thought you ignored him. "Roo," you sobbed, resting your forehead on your steering wheel. You missed him so much, you felt sick most of the time. You were counting down the days to the start of your period, and you could remember how he used to plug your heating pad in for you and bring you Tylenol. He used to rub your back and share a bottle of wine. You missed him, and you wanted him back home, doing all the silly little things he used to do. You knew how good things could be. 

"I'm sorry," you whispered as you looked at the missed call notification one more time. Then you turned your volume up to full blast. You'd take your phone everywhere from now on. You drove back to work with a sinking feeling in your chest. What if he didn't even bother trying to call you back again?

That thought stayed with you all day, and you had to force yourself to grab something to eat on your way back up to your office. You choked down a sandwich that tasted disgusting as you sat there alone. 

You felt even worse the next day since you were barely able to sleep. And you knew you needed to eat something, but you couldn't even stomach any coffee. You headed right to work after you let Tramp out, and you didn't even make it to your lab before you ran into your boss. 

"Meet me in my office, Lieutenant Commander," Captain Bickel told you. "I need you to look over some paperwork that came in from Annapolis on the overlapping project."

"Right now, sir?" you asked softly. Your body was practically trembling with anxiety. 

"Yes," he replied, and your heart sank. You followed him down the hallway, each step harder to physically complete than the last. When you sank down into the chair across from his desk, he handed you a folder. Your hand visibly shook as you took it from him, and you were almost too nauseous to feel embarrassed. Almost. 

Heat and sweat broke out on your neck, and the cool air gave you goosebumps. You could feel every little hair on your body stand up on end as you listened to your boss talking, but nothing was processing in your mind. That missed call had you in almost constant hysterics, and you didn't know who to talk to about it. Nobody would understand how much of a fucking big deal this was to you. You promised Bradley you'd always answer his calls. You promised him. 

"Is that right?" Bickel asked you, his voice sounding muffled to your ears. "Lieutenant Commander? Is that right?"

You looked down at the unopened folder in your lap, and tears started to stream down your cheeks. It didn't even feel like you were crying. But you must be? It didn't make sense at all, but when you opened your mouth, you heard a choked sob as you tried to meet his eyes.

He was around the desk, kneeling in front of your chair immediately. "Hey," he kept saying over and over again, and you wanted to tell him to stop, but you just kept crying. There was soft pressure on the back of your hand where his palm was resting. You were still trying to meet his eyes, and when you finally did, he used your first name. "Are you okay?"

You sucked in so much air that it hurt your insides. Everything was uncomfortable and too quiet, and you could barely speak, but you managed to say, "I don't know."

So he just sat there with you as you gulped in more air that hurt while your head throbbed. It probably took you a long time until the weight of your body in the chair felt normal again, and you realized you were sitting in your own sweat. You were hungry and gross and you missed your husband. When your boss asked, "What can I do for you?" the only thing you could do right away was shrug. 

But a few beats later, you managed to whisper, "Do you remember when Josh was here, and you asked me if I wanted to talk to someone?"

His face looked even more alarmed now, but you didn't have the energy to explain anything to him. "Yes," he replied, and he stood and reached for his phone. You clutched at Bradley's wedding band through the fabric of your shirt.

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

"The better plan for a more efficient flight path would be to take out the communications tower first and then strike their base," Admiral Dean informed the group of aviators for about the hundredth time. Bradley could have drawn the terrain maps from memory by now. He also couldn't help but think that the admirals were making sure that Slayer, Charmer and the other children were keeping up with the plans. "But we'll decide on the day of the mission which tactical option is better. Any questions?"

"Sir, what does the terrain look like again?" Charmer asked politely.

"Very good question," Dean replied, and Bradley gritted his teeth. It was a fucking idiotic question, and the rest of the room know it. He could practically feel the rage rolling off of Phoenix. If anyone from Top Gun had asked that question, the admiral would have snapped. Plus, Charmer and Slayer had taken to referring to Nat as Honey, which almost sent Bradley through the roof every single time. 

When everyone was dismissed for lunch, he was the first one out of the room, taking out his phone and opening it up to the notes app. Writing in the notebook from Bob every night had actually been more helpful than he expected, and occasionally he added a note to his phone so he would remember to write it down that night. He wasn't writing love letters exactly. They were more like little notes in which he was trying to describe how he felt about you. Trying to put into sentences everything he wanted to change, and also the things he wanted to stay the same. 

But the notebook was for him. You didn't need to read it. He'd keep it and look at it when he got home and started trying to put his marriage back on track. 

"Hey, Honey, you think you should be eating a sandwich instead of making me a sandwich?" Bradley looked up from his phone only to realize he had made it all the way to the dining hall. And Slayer was acting like a complete prick to Nat. She was the only female aviator on this detachment, which usually wouldn't have been an issue, but it was right now. 

Bradley saved the note he had written, and he turned to Slayer and calmly said, "Do you know how to shut your mouth, or do I need to show you?"

Loud booming laughter filled the space between them. "Old man, you couldn't show me how to do jack fucking shit. Except maybe nail your dog of a wife with a limp dick."

Bradley was for a split second reminded of the last time you and he had sex, and he could feel his cheeks start to flush. The thing was, Bradley didn't really mind the attention being on him instead of Nat or Bob, but this is what seemed to make his best friend snap. Nat snatched his phone out of his hand and held up the lock screen, which was actually a photo of you from the honeymoon. In your red bikini. With your tits pressed together and a dirty little smirk on your face. Bradley snapped it about a minute after he finished fucking you on the deck next to the pool.

"Does she look like a dog to you?" Nat asked the guys, and their eyes bugged out. This was bad. "No, she does not. And I'm not your Honey. Stop harassing me. Stop harassing Rooster. And stop harassing Bob."

But Slayer was still laughing. "She's hot, old man. She's definitely fucking around behind your back. Doubt you can keep up. Hell, I'd nail her." 

"Me too," Charming added as Bradley tucked his phone away in his pocket. And now Nat seemed to realize she shouldn't have reacted the way she did. Because Bradley was pissed. These fucking dipshits were really just the cherry on top of an already shitty deployment. 

"Let's get out of here," Nat said, about to reach for his arm. 

"I'm cool," Bradley snarled, even though he felt anything but. "Let's get some food." He picked up a tray and gripped it with white knuckles as he piled it up at random with food he didn't even really want. His mind was unfocused, and now he was thinking about how easy it actually would be for you to cheat on him while he was deployed. But that was a two way street, and he didn't want to open that horrible thought up inside of himself. 

"I'm sorry," Nat whispered as the two of them found a seat while Bob meandered over like he was unfazed by everything. Because he probably was. He had invited Bradley to join him while he meditated each night before bed. At first Bradley thought it seemed silly, but perhaps he was actually onto something. 

"Don't apologize, Nat."

"I shouldn't have taken your phone-"

"It's fine," he said, cutting her off. He was too tired to converse as he bit into his food. But it tasted like shit, so when he heard his name being called, he didn't mind the interruption. "I'm Bradshaw," he told the deckhand who was carrying an envelope. 

"What's that?" Nat asked, leaning over his arm as he opened it and pulled out a handwritten note on thick, creamy paper. 

"Holy shit," Bradley muttered. "It's from the commanding officer."

Her eyes bugged out. "As in the captain of the aircraft carrier?"

"Looks like it," Bradley replied as he read the note.

Lieutenant Commander B. Bradshaw,

You may use my personal communication device this evening at 2300 hours in my study.

Admiral Berry

He wasn't sure what exactly was going on, but given the chance, he would absolutely try to call you again.

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

You looked at Dr. Genevieve in her khaki uniform with her hair pulled up into a tight bun. She reminded you of your mom with her placid smile and sharp eyes. You were sitting in a soft, brown leather chair across from her, sipping some lemonade and eating the pretzel sticks Bickel gave you. And you already felt a lot better, although slightly embarrassed. But you were here now. And she was more than willing to talk to you.

"I... should have probably come here a few weeks ago," you said softly before taking one last sip of your drink. 

"Today's a good day to talk," she replied, but she didn't rush you. 

"Yeah," you said, nodding as you ran your palm down the arm of the chair in her office on base. "That's probably true. I'm... struggling? For lack of a better word? I guess?"

"That word is okay to use. But struggling is normal, Lieutenant Commander. It's something we all do."

So you took a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly. "I had a panic attack. In front of my boss," you groaned, covering your eyes with your hand. 

She kind of shrugged. "That's a pretty safe place for that kind of thing."

"I guess so," you replied with a little laugh. But then your face fell as you played with a stray thread on your uniform shirt. "I'm afraid I messed up my marriage," you said, barely loud enough for her to hear. But when you met her eyes through your tears, you were certain she heard you. "And I want to fix all of it, but I don't know how."

And with a few words of encouragement from her, you let loose. If you had to guess, you thought you must have gone on for ten minutes without stopping. You told this woman everything, and with each passing sentence, it started to feel easier to keep going. She took a few notes, and asked a few followup questions, but ultimately she let you talk as much as you wanted to. About whatever you wanted to. 

And even though you were exhausted and your uniform was uncomfortable, you felt so much better as you said, "I was getting my physical the other day. And I had so many questions for my doctor, and I've been so focused on trying to get pregnant. Apparently I lost weight. And I know I haven't been eating. And I think I can get better. Used to be a lot better. But when I finally thought to check my phone, I missed a call from Bradley. And I'm so afraid he thinks I didn't want to talk to him," you gasped as your voice cracked. 

As the back of your head came to rest against the leather, you closed your eyes. You could just picture him and the way he smiled at you. The way he had always smiled just for you. And maybe you should feel more like crying right now, but you were just too fucking tired. 

Dr. Genevieve waited until you were looking at her again before she asked, "You'd want to talk to your husband now? If you could have the chance?"

"Yes, but God... it could be weeks before he's allowed to call again. If at all." Just thinking about it had that cold, clammy feeling building inside you again. 

"Hmm," she hummed. "You said he's on the Theodore Roosevelt?"

"Yep," you replied. "Good old, Teddy. He told me he's been deployed to that vessel more than any other," you said, feeling like you were at the point of rambling nonsense now. But at least your heart was no longer pounding behind your eyes.

"Well, I'll see what I can do."

After that, you left her office and Bickel dismissed you for the day. But Dr. Genevieve told you to keep your phone on you, and you promised you would. And perhaps you should have been mortified when you got home only to answer the door twenty minutes later for a delivery guy, but you weren't.

"I didn't order any food," you told him, but he just handed you two bags and left without asking you to pay. When you took the bags to the kitchen and emptied them onto the counter, you saw a receipt that said it had been charged to J. Bickel. "Oh," you gasped, and Tramp looked up at you. "Yeah, he's pretty chill," you informed your dog about your boss. 

And then you cut the enormous sandwich in half and carried it to the dining room table along with the soup and salad. You ate until you couldn't physically take another bite, and then you got into a hot bath and stayed there until the water turned cool. 

It wasn't even 6 o'clock when you got yourself into bed, but your belly was full and you felt clean. And it had been such a relief to talk to someone who you'd never met before about every dirty detail you'd been living with. Your chest didn't hurt as much, and you didn't feel as helpless. 

You rubbed Tramp's belly, and just as you turned to plug your phone in, it started ringing. You gasped and dropped it on the floor. "Shit!" You almost fell out of bed as you scrambled for it. You'd caught a glimpse of Restricted Caller on the screen, but you wanted to make sure. 

"Bradley?" you nearly shrieked as you answered the call and finally got to see your husband's face. "Bradley!"

"Baby Girl," he rasped, and you sank to the floor as you smiled and started to cry. 

"I'm sorry," you said quickly as he shook his head. "I'm so sorry I let you leave without making sure you heard me when I told you I love you. Because I love you, and I miss you. And I'm sorry I didn't answer your call on Monday! But I was at my doctor's appointment!"

"Shh," he soothed, his eyes glued on yours as he shook his head again. "It's okay. I love you. And I don't need you to apologize for any of that right now. I'm the one who's sorry. I'm so sorry I let you down."

"Roo."

"I just need to know you still love me."

"Of course I still love you," you sobbed, wiping your eyes on his soft UVA shirt. "Bradley, I always will."

His eyes dipped down. "You're wearing my ring, Sweetheart?" 

You nodded and reached for the charms and his wedding band where they hung. "Why did you leave it?" you asked in a tiny, pathetic voice. "I hate that you're not wearing your ring."

He gave you a funny look. "I am," he insisted, holding up his left hand for you to see. 

"What's that?" you asked, examining something that was very much not his wedding band. 

"The silicone ring I told you I was ordering. I actually hate it," he said with a laugh. "You look so beautiful."

"When did you tell me you were ordering a silicone ring?" you asked.

"I don't know," he murmured. "A month ago? I put it on the shopping list on the fridge and asked if you wanted one, too. God, you look so beautiful."

But you just stared at him before springing to your feet and taking your phone into the kitchen. "Oh," you gasped. The magnetic whiteboard was partly covered by a piece of paper, and the marker had gotten smudged, but there it was. Bradley's pre deployment shopping list. You had been so distracted lately, nothing was sticking in your mind when it should have been. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey, Sweetheart," he said, and you looked back at your phone. "I wouldn't have left you without a ring on. Ever. And I can't wait to get back home and get the real thing off your necklace chain and put it back on my finger."

"You can't wait?" you asked, matching his little smile with your own. 

"Of course I can't wait. I'm ready to come home now. I love you. Being away from you and feeling uncertain has been terrifying." 

You couldn't believe how calm he sounded. Like he was just waiting to hear from you and see you, knowing everything would be okay. "I've been having a rough time," you said very softly as you walked back toward the bedroom. "It hasn't been okay."

He looked more concerned now. "We'll fix it," he promised. "As soon as we're together, we will fix it. No matter what it takes. You are my top priority. And that's never going to change. You understand?"

"Yeah," you whispered as you climbed back into bed. 

"If you're not happy with me, then I need to try harder and do better," he promised. "Until there's no doubt in your mind about how much I love you. And I don't need anything else."

There was an unspoken undertone of how the two of wanted and had been trying for a baby. But you didn't want to be the one to say it. "You're sure you don't need anything else?"

He nodded and said, "I'm sure, Sweetheart. I'd be lucky to get to spend the rest of my life with you. Just you. Me and you."

You felt calm in a way you hadn't been in months. It felt like you were melting back into your pillow as Bradley said, "Now why don't you tell me how you pulled this one off. Because I'm sitting in the Commanding Officer's quarters right now, using Admiral Berry's personal iPad."

You laughed, realizing he was sitting in front of an elaborate looking bookshelf as he smiled at you. "I think Admiral Berry is married to Dr. Genevieve Berry." And when you told him you had a panic attack at work and talked to a therapist on base, your husband said he was proud of you for taking care of yourself.

"I haven't been though, Roo," you whispered sadly as you burrowed down in the blankets. "Not really."

"I'm the one who hasn't been taking good enough care of both of us. I promise that's going to change when I get home. I need it to, and you deserve it."

Your body shook slightly with a quiet sob, and you nodded. "My period is going to start soon."

"Okay," he said softly. "We're not worrying about that right now. But I wish I was home to plug in your heating pad and rub your feet." 

"Me, too. I love you." It felt so good to say it to him. His lips parted like he had something to say, then you saw him look to his right. 

"Right, absolutely," he said to someone off screen. "No problem."

When he was facing you again, you asked, "You have to go?" 

"I do," he confirmed with a frown. "But first, can you promise me a few things?"

"Yes."

"You'll make sure you're getting enough sleep and eating enough? And talking to someone if you feel like you're struggling?"

"I promise. And, Roo? If you call and I don't answer, it's because I couldn't, okay? I always want to hear from you."

He smiled and exhaled in visible relief. "I understand. I love you. See you in a few weeks."

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

Can we...can we breathe a little bit now? Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 12

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

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@daisyhollyxox

@throwinsauce

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@hecate-steps-on-me

@xoxabs88xox

[mediumgayitalian]

part two

———

Getting outrun for seven miles by an eight year old is a uniquely humbling experience. Compactly humiliating, coincidentally, is being outrun by an eight year old while dragging along a bouquet large enough that it cannot be adequately contained with two hands and must therefore be carried between two people.

Lee is having something of an afternoon.

“It starts in seven minutes!” shouts Will, at least twelve solid yards ahead of them and running backwards. He does not appear even to be sweating. “Hurry!”

“Could not be hurrying more if I tried,” Lee wheezes.

(It’s not that Lee isn’t a good runner. He is. It’s that Will is freakishly fast, because he has dimples when he smiles and has endeared himself to the dryads, who have been teaching him how to sprint like the hopped up little Energizer Bunny he is. Michael has been calling him Soda Boy for ages, on account of how he so closely resembles a can of pop that has been vigorously shaken, which he hates. Remembering it brings Lee some peace.)

“Let’s go let’s go let’s go!”

Clamping his mouth shut in a desperate attempt to preserve energy, Lee surges forward. Michael matches him, having to run significantly faster to keep up with his long legs. Their panting forms a discordant melody of despair. Poetic.

When they stumble through the door, chests heaving, Lee considers collapsing to the ground and weeping for joy. He will never run again. If a monster chases him, he will simply fight or accept his fate. He has reached his quota.

But, for perhaps the first time in his life, there is no time for dramatics. The lobby is devoid of the massive crowds it held earlier, shadows eerie in their absence, and only the final tail end of a line shuffles through the stage doors.

Despite his internal vow, Lee sprints forward to catch up with them.

“Hold it,” says a man in a venue volunteer! vest, holding up a hand. He glances at them, resting his gaze on Will’s messy hair, Michael’s scuffed shoes, Lee’s wrinkled shirt, and pausing for quite a while on the giant bouquet. The narrowed eyes and thinned lips are familiar. Lee stiffens.

“Go on in,” the man says to the middle aged couple in front of them, who’s crease-free jackets read ‘Dance Mom’ and ‘Prop Team Dad’ respectively. He shoos them inside, complimenting the honest-to-Apollo corsage in the woman’s hand, chortling along to the man’s joke. The laughter drops from his face the second the couple is guided through the doors, and the man turns back to the three of them.

“The show,” he says, nose upturned, “has begun. I can’t let anyone else in lest they cause any…disturbances.”

“The show starts on three minutes and forty-seven seconds!” Will protests, sticking his watch in the man’s face. Completely oblivious to his murderous look, he continues, “Forty-six seconds! Forty-five! Time’s-a-tickin’, let us in!”

The man bares his teeth in a smile. “Regrettably, you are too late. You’ll have to wait for the intermission.”

Will blinks at him. He looks at Lee, at the doors, then back at the man.

“But…we’re on time. And if we come back later, we’ll miss my sister’s dance!”

The man shrugs. “This will be a valuable lesson, then.” He purses his lips, glancing again at the bouquet. “Perhaps be more prepared, next time.”

Will turns back to Lee and Michael, crestfallen. He swipes quickly under his eyes, squeezing his thumb into fists, but the tears well up anyway. “We’re going to miss it?”

Michael snarls. In one quick move he shoves the massive bouquet entirely into Lee’s arms, yanks Will by the shoulders to stand behind him, and gets right in the man’s face.

“You listen here, you slimy ratbag, you had no fuckin’ trouble letting those last scragglers in so you better clean up your act quick before I —”

A loud crashing noise makes them all jump, interrupting him. Nearly crushing the flowers, Lee whips towards the source of the sound. One of the competition banners has been yanked down, metal frame collapsing on the tile floor. Fastening screws rattle to a slow stop beside it.

“What the —”

Another banner crashes to the floor. This time, the little hands that tore it down are a touch too slow to dart away, a blonde head not quick enough to duck behind a corner.

“Hey!” the man shouts. Shoving Michael aside, and moving quicker than Lee can think to stop him, he sprints towards the corner Will disappeared behind. “Get back here! You can’t do that!”

Lee curses, trying to manoeuvre the flowers to see and run at the same time. Michael runs ahead of him, on the man’s heels, chanting shit shit shit shit under his breath. Lee’s brain takes the initiative to alternate, chanting fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck every time he takes a breath.

They’re going to get kicked out for sure. Diana is going to kill them and it’s going to be justified, because Lee is going to have to live with the noble look he knows Cass will have on when she realises they’re not there to watch. The shakey, practiced smile she’ll slap over the disappointment in her dark eyes.

Shit shit shit shit indeed.

“Lee! Michael! Over here!” whispers a voice. Lee whirls around to face it — boy does he ever feel like a puppet on a stick right now — and, for the second time in as many minutes, feels his head pound at the disorienting frenzy of emotions that bubble up when he sees his baby brother’s face. Will stands half inside a doorway Lee hadn’t noticed on the way in, tucked in the shadow of a corner.

He is fast, holy shit.

“What the hell are you doing,” hisses Michael.

“Getting us inside! Hurry up!”

Lee doesn’t need further prompting, clock ticking in his brain. Gods, how long do they have left? Thirty seconds? Less?

“Most big theatres have sideline entrances,” Will explains after Michael helps shove the giant bouquet through the tiny door. He guides them, upright to their hunching, down a tight corridor. “They’re for performers to pop up in the audience without being seen. Mama and I race each other to find ‘em when she did shows.”

Lee had forgotten, for a moment, how much of his life Will has spent in and out of theatres, bars, stages. Naomi Solace has been growing more and more famous since…half of his life, at least. Lee remembers hearing about her four years ago, when she’d done a smaller show in Queens. A friend of his had gone.

Michael reaches out and tugs the mostly-undone ponytail he’d wrestled Will’s hair into that morning. “Good job, kid.”

He grins over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

They stumble into the darkened audience in the nick of time. The second Lee steps out of the cramped little corridor, dragging the stupid flowers (he is, in fact, regretting his choices at this point in time; when he has a free moment he will add this to the list of reasons he will be kicking his past self’s ass if the Hephaestus cabin successfully recreates DeLorean time machine) along with him, the stage lights come on. An announcer’s voice calls out, “Entry 109, Competitive Open Solo: Cass Hasapi.”

“Fuck,” Michael mutters. A quaint family of four gasps. He sneers at them. “Fuck, you see Diana?”

“No, is she maybe —”

“I think that’s her hair —”

“That person is way too tall, what are you —”

“I swear to the gods, I am going to kill you both,” whispers a beautifully familiar voice, and then Lee is being dragged. “Sit the hell down and shut the hell up. Will, baby, c’mere.”

Will climbs happily over the two empty seats, settling onto Diana’s lap and curling under her chin. He sticks his tongue out when Lee and Michael follow in behind him, struggling with the bouquet, muttering about favouritism.

“I’ve literally known you for six times longer than you’ve known him,” Michael mutters, sticking his tongue out right back. A grandmother with a severe bob whirls back and hushes him.

“Yeah, I’ve had all that time to get tired of your bullshit. Shut up.”

Before Michael can retort — Lee is sure he has an eloquent and devastating response, Lee has been helping him practice — soft piano drifts out from the speakers. A light turns on, pointed at the stage.

All four of them snap their mouths shut.

In the centre of the stage, Cass stands, poised. Her back is turned to the audience, arms extended above her and tilted to the right, as if reaching for the setting sun. Her hair, braided loosely back, brushes the edge of her thickly draping purple costume. Her knees are bent and locked and one bare foot sticks out like she’s trying to balance herself, like she’s mid fall.

A gravelly, male voice sings lowly along to the piano. How do you know which time might be the last? She moves along the dip of his voice, dragging her limbs through the rigid air. What I would give just to see you again? She moves with a swooping twist of her heels, twisting at the waist. Under the heat of the stage lights, her face contorts, forehead deeply wrinkled, mouth parted, breathing quickly. I’d walk to the depths of a world down below and demand to get back what some circumstance stole. She holds herself with such tension that Lee finds his own shoulders hiking up to his ears. Her chest moves rapidly, hands shaking, knees buckling. His breath goes stale in his lungs.

When the chorus starts, hard and heavy and sudden, I turned back one last time just to prove you were there, Cass hits the floor. He gasps with the rest of the audience, clutching the plush armrest, but it’s intentional, part of the dance. ‘Cause the last ray of sun made Eurydice cold. Collapsed on the floor, limbs bent, dress askew, she crawls, begging, towards the audience. Did she know? Did she know? Did she know? Did she know?

Cass does not move gracefully. She moves like a beached, gasping siren dragging herself back to the depths, like someone climbing out of a pit. Every movement looks heavy and painful. She looks at the audience and Lee is surging forward before he can stop himself, breath hitching, brain screaming: help her! help her! help her!

If I knew how it’d feel back then, I wouldn’t take another step.

Her body twists again, hair escaping her loose braid and sticking to her neck, her forehead. She claws at her throat like she’s suffocating, eyes accusing everyone watching like they’re holding her under. Each movement of her arms swell and sway on the beat, bare feet slapping the ground with every hit of the kettle drum. If you can see me it’s all in your head, but it feels real to me now, it felt real to me then.

Everything ends.

The piano fades out, the drums hit their last beat. All that’s left is the wretched guitar, taught like strings snapping, taught like the tense pull of her suspended muscles.

But I opened the door and went down the stairs; I turned back one last time to prove you were there.

As the last word fades, she drops. Not slowly, not evenly, but like whatever was holding her up crumbled to dust. Like she was shot. Her purple dress pools out around her like dark Hyacinth. She lays completely, entirely still.

The lights cut. The air in the audience goes heavy.

They come back on and no one says a word. Lee realises, as it drips onto his hands, that he is crying. Diana is, too, tear tracks too fresh to dry on her face, and Will is leaned forward so far he sways precariously. Michael’s hands are pressed harshly to his eyes.

Trancelike, Lee stands. All eyes snap, abruptly, towards him, but he ignores them. He looks straight across the rows of chairs and locks eyes with his sister, upright now, heaving, standing hesitant. She looks at him, and then beside him at Michael, and then at Will in Diana’s lap. They scramble quickly up next to him, and without any of them saying anything, they begin to cheer.

Cass’s face lights up.

With permission, much of the audience claps. No one stands as they do and as they continue hooting and hollering the claps fade quickly, replaced with stares and murmurs, but Cass still stands there, beaming, looking away and looking back like she can’t believe they’re there. That someone is there, that someone watched her, her, from beginning to end. A hand tugs on his sleeve.

“Can I sonic?” Will asks, raising his voice to be heard.

“Level four,” Lee allows.

He needs no further permission, grinning. He lets out a piercing whistle that makes everyone around them shout in alarm and Lee’s ears ring. But Cass laughs, loud and bright, so it’s worth it, and when Will looks at him in question he nods. The second whistle is definitely beyond a level four, but Lee doesn’t care. Cass looks the happiest he’s seen in a long time.

———

None of them care too much about staying for the other performances. But Cass has two more dances with her studio classes, spread out as they are, so Lee remains doomed to two hours of an aching ass and performances that come nowhere near Cass’s masterpiece. Will seems intrigued, though, by some of the pieces, so he grits his teeth and bares it. Besides, the rolled eyes he shares with Diana and Michael every time someone does something exceedingly cliche or tries and fails at depth (someone, often, being one of Cass’s teammates, shocker) makes it somewhat worth it.

By the time the judges call the last entry, though, Lee is ready to book it out of there.

The lights come back on and pop music plays through the speakers as dancers, in track suits over their costumes, congregate on the stage. Lee stands and stretches, letting Will stand on his shoulders and jump off into Michael’s arms to get some of his energy out. (And, also, ‘cause tossing a small child between them is fun. Diana jogs into the aisle so they can throw farther, but they all decide against it when a security guard glances over.)

After what feels like eight million years, the judges finally lumber over to the stage. The building voices hush as they climb the steps, standing in front of the gathered studios with cabled mics and stacks of foreboding envelopes.

“Welcome, dancers and families,” starts one judge.

She blabs on for several minutes about what an honour it was to judge and how wonderful everyone was. Blah, blah, blah. Lee spaces out about the time Diana’s eyes glaze over, and he looks instead to the gathered stage, observing. There are five different studios that he can see, each with about forty to fifty dancers. Mostly young women. They sit tangled together, legs on legs, arms around shoulders, feet tucked under thighs. Cass, he notices, sits on her own, at the very back of the stage. She sits straight-backed and proud, though. Chin lifted, braid resting over her shoulder.

Impossible to miss.

Two of her group dances win Diamond (Diana explains to them that this is Very Good. She thinks). Most others do not get this honour. Lee notices especially the older couple to their left looking quite sour. The glee he feels is indescribable.

“The winner for our open solo, for all age groups, was actually unanimous. It’s been a while since that happened!”

A girl near the front of the stage, who Lee recognises as the one to make a cruel joke about Cass’ mother, preens. Her solo was boring as hell. He’s not sure what she’s so smug about.

“With a score of 97.6, congratulations to Entry 109, Cass Hasapi!”

The four of them scream like lunatics.

They don’t even wait for scattered applause. Each one of them clambers up on the pristine chairs, covering them with scuff marks, and yell at the top of their lungs, jumping and cheering like chimps in a cage. Cass goes red, but she can’t hide her smile as she stands and accepts her award, grinning over at them. Michael holds up his camera and snaps a photo of her, pink-cheeked and wild-haired, glowing.

———

“Cass!”

Will sees her before the rest of them, sprinting towards the changeroom doors at top speeds and leaping up into her arms. She catches him easily, spinning them both around, pressing a thousand kisses to his hair and face.

“Hello, my darling! Hello hello hello!” Every word is punctuations with a kiss, or rather a press of her wide smile to anywhere she can reach. In seconds his cheeks are stained with her lipstick. “Oh, it has been weeks, darling boy, I missed you!”

Will clings to her sweater, face buried in the crook of her neck. She holds him just as tightly.

(Will has seen Cass more than Lee, in the past few months. He knows she’s made a few sudden trips to camp. But he also knows that she was the first one to welcome him into camp, the day his mother dropped him off, and when he was claimed she was the first to bring him home. She loves to tote him around, too, to have him trail after her for cabin inspections, holding the clipboard, or paint his nails when she’s bored. He misses her something fierce in the winters. She holds on tightly when she comes back home.)

Squeezing him one last time, she turns to the rest of them. Despite her wide smile, her mascara runs.

“You came,” she says, voice wobbling.

Michael clears his throat. “No shit.”

His voice wobbles, too.

“Come here, you goober.”

He’s the next to cling to her, inserting himself under her arm. She presses a kiss to his temple and he pinches her ribs, complaining, getting louder when she digs a knuckle into his hair. Diana jogs up and separates them, as she always does, flicking Michael on the forehead and pressing a kiss to her sister’s cheek.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, squeezing her hand.

Cass’s tears spill over again. “Thank you.”

Lee clears his throat. He feels, suddenly, like a doofus, holding a bouquet of flowers the size of him, but Cass looks at them and grins again, chuckling.

“You sell your kidney for that or what?”

Lee snorts. “No, we exchanged Will. This is a clone.”

“Did not!”

Lee blows a raspberry. “Did too. Clone.”

“I’m not a clone! I’m me!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Ya-huh!”

“Alright,” Cass interrupts, rolling her eyes fondly. She kisses the tip of Will’s nose again and sets him down, turning towards Lee, hands outstretched dramatically. “Hand me my dues.”

Because she is, at the core of her, a true daughter of Apollo, even though the amount of poise and grace that bleeds from her at any given time contradicts almost directly with the guy who beams Pocketful of Sunshine directly into their brains at five in the morning every single day without fail, she kneels with a flourish. Because Lee is, at the core of him, also a child of Apollo, he goes unquestioningly along with the bit, pulling out one of the flowers to knight her before resting the entire bouquet in her arms. She has to hold it with both hands.

“You guys are ridiculous,” she says, grinning.

“They are ridiculous,” Diana stresses. “Dumbasses were damn near late getting this for you. They already had flowers, mind you. They’re just dumb.”

Will holds up his hand with his watch. “I kept us from being late!”

Diana squishes his cheek. “Thank you, sweetpea. You’re already smarter than your brothers combined.”

“Stick out your tongue again and I’ll grab it, you little snitch,” Lee warns.

Will, darting to hide behind Diana, does not heed his warning. Because he’s a little shit. bc

The walk out of the building in a gaggle of movement. As other dancers and their families walk by, glowering at Cass’ flowers and at Cass in general, Lee makes a point to catch their eyes. To smirk. To let them know, without saying a word — you were wrong. Of course you were wrong. Look at how she’s better than your bitter ass without even trying.

It warms him inside, truly.

“I’m thinking,” Diana says, walking back to the car, “that we stop at Dairy Queen on the way home. On Michael’s dollar. Will, look real excited so Michael can’t say no.”

“I am excited,” Will says, turning to face him, “so that’s real easy.”

Michael sighs. He taps his foot on the pavement, glaring. He sighs again. “You’re getting s plain cone and that’s that. You understand me?”

Will takes that as code for ‘begin negotiating’. Diana joins him, the two of them chasing Michael to the car, yelling about Blizzards and sundaes. Cass falls into step next to Lee, adjusting the flowers.

“So,” she says, shooting him a small smile.

“So,” he intones.

“Diana told me you snuck the boys out of camp.”

“…Yes.”

“Organised the whole trip, basically.”

“It wasn’t hard. I just told Michael to pack his shit and he listened, for once. So.”

“Lee.” She waits for him to open the trunk, letting him stuff the ridiculous flowers inside before facing him, grabbing his hands and squeezing. “Thank you.”

“I don’t —”

He swallows past the lump in his throat. How can he say it? How can he tell her about being fourteen and older than half the unclaimed kids in Hermes, still reeling over camp as a whole, and the fear that had dissipated from his chest when she stood in front of camp and said, firmly, he’s ours? About the hours she spent listening to him ramble about Pokémon, learning the game for him, mailing him cards she finds around? About the letters she sends him every week without fail, even though she’s swamped with her own shit, because she remembers the night he cried, months and years of being weird and lonely and unlike anyone else he knew? How can he explain the bubbling in his chest, the ache for her, because of her?

“Of course, Cass.”

She opens her arms and he falls into them, forehead on her shoulder, arms tight around her waist. She grips around his back, pressing a kiss to his hair. His throat is dry, choking back the thickness of his tears.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, Lee.”

[rinniereads123]

One-Shots

SOME OF THESE STORIES ARE MATURE! READ THE WARNINGS AND TAGS BEFORE YOU READ!

Last updated 10/29/2024

★ - personal favorites | masterlist | other recs

★blurred lines - @ellemj

When choosing a female agent to send back in time to gain young Sergeant Barnes's trust, everyone's in agreement that it should be Sharon. Until Bucky, the man that you barely get along with, speaks up and lets everyone know that it could only be you.

Shared desires - @veltana

You and Bucky decide to explore something new with Steve.

The Push and the Pull - @delaber

There’s nothing Bucky wants more than to be with you - and for that reason alone, he has to break both your hearts.

Little Bookworm - @heytheredelulu

Your boyfriend can’t think of anything more adorable than watching you read. One night while you’re in the shower he picks up the book you left on the nightstand: “Haunting Adeline by H.D. Carlton” and thumbs through it, very quickly realizing just what kind of books his sweet little bookworm is really into.

Anywhere Away With You - @thevillainswhore

Old ghosts from your past threaten to disturb the peace you’ve made with your new life. Will temptation steer you away?

★The Ties That Bind Us - @thevillainswhore

Even though Bucky is your ex-husband, you still have to see him often because of your shared son. But the heated tension, the spark that is still very much alive after your divorce, finally reaches its peak when you come home from your date.

Warrior/Worrier - @delaber

After a mission gone awry, Bucky finds himself on your doorstep in the middle of the night.

Pink in the Night - @d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n

Some interesting rumours have been circling around about Bucky. Little do you know, it's kinda your fault.

Love Hurts - @urdepressedslut

You and Bucky get into a heated argument, things are said and done and now he won’t speak to you. You don’t think you can handle him ignoring your existence.

in losing grip, on sinking ships (you showed up just in time) - @mellowsaturns

When the Avengers pick up unusual activity, they realize that not all of Hydra was destroyed. One unidentifiable face sends the team into a frenzy but Bucky knows it. He could recognize those eyes anywhere.

I Hate You - @ellemj

After ending up on SHIELD's radar, you're moved into the tower against your will. Of course, you can't stand the one man that you have the most in common with.

One More Night - @marvelouslizzie

You and Bucky Barnes are fuck buddies for a while. The problem is you have feelings for him but you don't think he reciprocates and it just makes it impossible to continue your relationship. Little did you know how much he wants you and how hard he's trying to keep it casual.

The Things We Carry With Us - @pellucid-constellations

You were injured on a mission and didn’t tell anyone, leaving your already rocky relationship with Bucky crumbling. Was it really hate he harbored for you, or was it something else? 

Control - @bucky-bucket-barnes

John Walker makes the dire mistake of messing with Bucky’s girl. This misstep causes a major fight to break out between the two, ending in nothing but blood and rage.

I Can Save You This Time - @pellucid-constellations

It’s the 4th of July and you’ve never been more sick. Turns out you aren’t the only one in the compound that stayed home from the celebration.

Shaken Up - @jamesbuchananxsteviegrant

Steve and Bucky find their girl passed out.

Under Pressure - @banditthewriter

Y/N hides a nasty injury from the team until they know everybody is safe, and then they collapse. Bucky worries about Y/N.

Injuries - @flowinglocksofbuck

you get injured on a mission and Bucky freaks out

Wicked - @str-spangled-banner

You were injured during a mission two weeks ago and put to much pressure on your healing wounds, doing more damage than you thought possible. Bucky fears he will lose you.

Necessary Evil - @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

Y/N gets seriously injured and Bucky takes care of her.

fingers fantasy fulfilled - @purple-babygirl

If Bucky's doll wanted his metal fingers then that was exactly what she was going to get.

Lavender - @wkemeup

Not every nightmare is the same and Bucky doesn’t always wake up as the man you know. 

Give Me A Sign - @lostgirlmuseum

Bucky asks the universe for a reason to live. The universe delivers you.

Fulfilled Fantasy - @sergeantbarnessdoll

Y/N admits to Bucky that she wants to have a threesome so he has Natasha help fulfill her fantasy.

Hottest Night of Your Life - @bossbtch1

Bucky and Steve joined you for a night out at the club, but things took a dark turn when a stranger spiked your drink. Bucky and Steve were more than willing to "take care" of you.

Sharing is Caring - @sad-not-glad

Soft Dom! Steve x Sub! Bucky x Dom! reader

My Queen - @adrinktostopyourthirst

The post-battle energy rush needs a release. Suddenly, there's a willing soldier at your disposal.

all the apple cider and no more haunted houses - @witchywithwhiskey

you and bucky barnes have a love-hate relationship—you love him and you believe he hates you—but when your friends insist on going to the scariest haunted house attraction in the area, the experience ends up forcing your real feelings for each other out into light

my everything - @mrsbarnesblog

The last thing that Bucky ever expected to see was the love of his life from the past trapped in one of the Hydra bunkers in the cryofreeze chamber. Yet here he was almost two days later, staring at your still unconscious body through the window at the medical wing, imagining the horror and disgust on your face when you found out that he was no longer the innocent and happy boy you knew before.

you were mine just yesterday - @notafunkiller

It's been a while since your break up with Bucky happened, but you're still not over him. You try to move on, go out, and have fun with your friend, Steve, but you end up in the same bar you two went to often. It also just happens that Bucky is there too, with Natasha by his side. It doesn't take long for you two to end up getting into old habits.

[imnothulk]

The Odinson-Banner Ceremony.

(I wanted to begin by apologizing, I'm sorry it took me so long to write this. @thir-0dinson )

It was a beautiful day in Iceland, it wasn't too cold, thanks to the invisible dome Tony fabricated, The northern lights were bright and colourful. The gold decorations accentuated with purple flowers (thanks too Iyla) made it quite a sight to see.

Bruce was nervous, but excited. His best men, Pietro, Peter and of course Tony, stood behind him. Thor's best woman Valkyrie and groomspeople Fenrir and Darcy stood on the other side of the altar. Everyone was still waiting on (the other) groom to appear.

The crowd was big, they really went all out on the invitations. He could see his kids in the first few rows. He could see his friends and family, everyone gathered for the special occasion.

Suddenly the crowd quietened, the piano started playing the wonderful wedding melody. Bruce turned to see his beautiful fiance at the end of the isle, his sister Hela by his side and walking him down the isle as they approach him.

When Thor stood before him, Loki began to speak.

"We are gathered here today to witness the sacred union of Bruce and my brother Thor. We stand here to honor and celebrate the love shared between these two people, as they come together to start their new life with a solemn vow, surrounded by their closest family and friends."

Pietro stepped forward and handed each groom their respective ring.

"Now as we begin, please face each other and declare your vows, Brother you may go first"

Thor smiled and began to speak

"Bruce.

I am- very old, i have seen galaxies rise and fall and thousands of empires play their course. I have seen the most beautiful of collapsing stars and gods and temples and buildings that would blow a mortals mind. I have seen the beauty of the edges of space.

And yet, none of that compares to what i see when i look into your eyes. They are like a thousand stars, as large and comforting as my fathers castle and yet as small amd comfortable as being in your arms.

I thought the day you said yes to marrying me would be the happiest day of my life. I was wrong. It dosent even hold a candle to this day, this day that we will be joined together forever. I may outlive you, but i will ensure your memory outlives time. I will ensure i leave a monument to our love for future species to find and think "Oh. Those men were in love. Those men loved each other with a love that survived the ruins of galaxies.

I wish nothing more than for you to be my eternity."

Bruce was crying by the end of it, Loki wiped a tear from his cheek and cleared his throat "Wow okay, Bruce you may declare your vow"

He took a deep breath before speaking.

"Thor,

When I was young I always dreamed of one day finding someone and falling in love, it was one of my greatest dreams. Then the gamma thing happened, and I thought that dream was no more.

That was until you came into my life once more, not only as a friend and work collegue but as more.

You changed my life and showed me how to love again and for that I owe you everything, you make me happy like no one has before, I'm smitten for you.

I spend hours everyday researching and learning and studying different areas of science, lately it's mostly astrology. I've seen countless pictures of stars and suns and countless wonders, but none of it compares to the beauty I see when I gaze at you.

I am the luckiest man alive, and I will continue to be as long as I have you."

Thor smiled brightly and wiped the tears from his eyes. Loki gave the pair a second before continuing.

"Beautiful vows, wonderful. Now, Brother you shall take your ring and place it on his finger as you repeat after me, 'I Thor Odinson, take thee Bruce to be my husband' ".

Thor places the gold ring on Bruce's finger uttering the words "I Thor Odinson, take thee Bruce to be my husband".

"Now you Bruce, take your ring and place it in his finger and repeat the words "I Robert Bruce Banner, take thee Thor to be my husband".

Bruce holds Thor's hand and places the ring on his finger "I Robert Bruce Banner, take thee Thor to be my husband".

Loki smiles at both of them "Now by the powers vested in me by myself, I now declare you both husband and husband, you may kiss the groom"

Bruce moves forward, kissing Thor sweetly. The room erupts in cheers for the newly married couple.

It was truly a day to be remembered.

//Everyone @theironcan @official-pietro-maximoff @reallyreallyspiderman @iyla-difransisco @bisexualswordlady @fenrir-lokison @yeahimdarcy @agent-maria-hill @agent-maria-hill-ofshield-blog @blackwidow-nat-official2 @buckybarnesoffical @clintbarton-thearrowguy @capt-carter-mostly-official @capn-america @deadpool-wade-wilson @daredevil-isnt-catholic-or-blind @friday-the-ai @harleykeener69 @hawkeye-jr @i-am-not-a-toaster @iyla-difransisco @king-ofwakanda @kamala-msmarvel-khan @littlemsbumblebee @midtown-news-official @mysister-isstillaposer @midtown-news-official @natasha-rogersbarnes @nothawkeyeofficial @okoye-general-official @official-buckybarnes @officialscottlang @reallyreallyspiderman @stephenstrange-md-phd @starlordofficial @spidey-official @that-punk-from-brooklyn @therealbuckybarnes @unofficial-non-poser @vpotts-official @virginia-pepper-potts01 @moongirlwidow @midtown-news-official @definitelynot-peterp4rker @mini-green-goblin @goddessof-death @loki-laufeychild

[stubz]

"You said you'd be better after the Tri-Eclipse festival, when we all come back from vacation."

"Yeah that's right."

"Will you promise me that you'll run with me when we get back?"

"...I'll do my best. Yeah. I'll do my best buddy."

.

"Max when we get back after the holidays will you run with me?"

"Yeah. I'll start training, practice running."

"Oh yeah, cause it's been a long time since you ran."

"Yeah...almost 2 months...wow."

..

"Got any plans for the 2 weeks we get off?"

"Yeah I'm gonna train."

"Train for what?"

"Running. I told the kids I'd run with them when we get back."

"Aww that's cute. But yeah you need to test things out right? Start off slow so as to not overdue it when you play with them again."

"Yeah...wanna hear something funny?"

"Sure."

"I, I miss running. I know I said I hate running and that I only ran with the kids because it's good exercise but...I miss it." he puts down his fork. Staring at his plate of food from the ship's cafeteria. He continues.

"I had a dream last night. I was on Earth, in a field of tall grass and flowers, it was summer. The sun was shining, a beautiful warmth on my skin, with a cool gentle breeze on my skin. I was barefoot. I could run and I ran for miles. I ran even after my lungs were on fire, even when the sun went down...I miss running."

"Mmm"

...

Going on field trip. Yanosh came early so we took the noon shuttle. Come as soon as you can. Shuttle A-11.

'I didn't know we had a field trip today.' he thought after reading the text Kim sent.

He grabbed his hoodie and the other emergency bag and made his way to the shuttles. Luckily the A-11 was an express and he would be wherever it was going in 20 minutes.

12 minutes into the ride he noticed that they were approaching Earth.

....

Turn left in 200 meters...You have reached your destination.

"...ha haha hahahahaha! Are you guys serious?!"

"Surprise Max!!"

In front of the young man was his class of youngling alien children (with a handful of humans ones), co-worker and friend. Standing in a field of tall grass and flowers. Yanosh and Kim held a banner saying congratulations.

"I know you've been training in the gym but I thought you'd want your first real run to be somewhere...special."

He scooped his friend into a hug. Then pulled in the children until they were all sent crashing down into a pile full of laughter and giggles.

"You ready?"

"Yeah, yeah definitely!"

"READY KIDS?!"

"YEAH!"

"LET'S GOOO!"

And for the first time in 2 months human Max ran. Past the slowest ones first. He tried to pat every one of them on the head as he flew bye. Broke through the pack of the average runners. A laugh trailed behind him. One by one surpassed the faster one's. His unused lungs somehow allowing him to whoop in-between pants.

He raced every child. Played every game he could not play before. Carried those who longed to be carried again. He ran despite the burning in his lungs and the sweat in his eyes. He ran through the pain in his feet and the exhaustion in his body until he collapsed.

Laying there in the dirt surrounded by the children and his friend he smiled. And he wore that smile in his sleep on the way back to the centre.

[postergarden]

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[vavoom-sorted-art]

Popping the cherry! (mine and.. others) - Sleight Of Hand - Chapter Two: The Turn

@moonyinpisces and I are MORE than excited to finally bring you Chapter 2 of “Sleight of Hand”: The Turn!

Read on Ao3 with ALL the comic pages!

Uncensored Version on Patreon!

---

All Aziraphale can focus on is hot, and tight, and wet. If he wasn’t already sitting, he’d have collapsed to his knees, too. He runs gentle hands through Crowley’s gel-stiff hair, touches softly at the strain of his jaw; Crowley takes him like he was born for it. Like God had created his corporation with this in mind before getting topsy-turvy at the eyes. 

Eyes that are squeezed shut in an expression speaking of taste, of savoring. There’s tears at the corners of them. Aziraphale thumbs them away instinctively, can’t help but tilt his head back against the mirror and allow himself to be relished. 

Crowley runs slow, worshipful hands up and down Aziraphale’s clothed thighs, fingers digging into the softness, there, giving way to the firmness beneath. There’s no rhythm, here, or strategic focus; it’s so sweet it’s excruciating. Crowley makes a choking sound, but doesn’t slow down in the slightest, brows drawn in concentration, dedicating himself entirely to this mode of servitude. Of prayer. 

And Aziraphale, keeper of knowledge, feels sacreligious. Because he can easily reveal their survival, or he can keep them in death. Suspend them at the precipice of the last night on earth for as long as he’d wish. It’s heady, being worshiped for the power he has but doesn’t deserve. 

The acknowledgement of it brings him far too close to the edge, right along with Crowley doing something particularly clever with his tongue. 

“Stop, stop–” Aziraphale slides off the vanity and drops down to his knees like a collapsed banner, panting from exertion. He crashes their lips together, tastes the saltiness of Crowley’s mouth, his eager tongue. Wraps an arm around Crowley’s waist, bows him back until he’s just distracted and low enough for Aziraphale to snatch the bloody photograph, tuck it into his own sleeve. For a moment, he’s bearing Crowley’s weight entirely. 

Crowley, who seems quite enthralled by the idea. “Angel,” he breathes, pulling back to stare at Aziraphale in unmasked arousal. His lips are pinkened and damp. “You’re–”

“The settee,” Aziraphale manages, standing to his feet with the warm weight of Crowley pressed to his side, holding him up entirely with one arm until the demon gets his feet properly beneath him. “I’ll have you on the settee.” 

“You’ll–”

“Or you’ll have me,” Aziraphale continues, steering them both away. He nods once, definitively. “Yes, you’ll have me. Come on.”

[Keep reading on Ao3]

and go check out the smut war over on the @goodomensafterdark subreddit!

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

In the Background - Chapter 4.5

Summary: You’ve been dating Natasha in secret since her early days in SHIELD, and you’ve been in the background of all her missions since.

Word Count: 5047

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: canon events (violence/death), occassional swearing.

A/N: I'll be focusing on a couple of other WIPs now this is done but then it's back to work on Chapter 5; feel free to send comments/questions about the series and I'll answer any I can 😌

Series Masterlist

Previous Part

—:::——::-————>◇<—————::——:::—

If only the Avengers didn't cause so much destruction, your life would be so much easier. You'd been staring at the screen for hours now, tracing leads, conducting damage assessments, and handling the repair efforts as best you could, so when Natasha called and you answered within the first ring? You'll blame that on your dull work life, definitely not just your eagerness to speak with the assassin.

It was only after answering the call that you thought to check the time - 10pm, just as you would usually begin to wind down for the night. You smiled, for someone who lived such a turbulent life, Natasha managed to maintain a remarkable consistency; she always tried to call at that time, no matter where she was in the world, to keep you company with late night talks and to wish a goodnight.

As soon as she greeted you tonight though, you knew you were in for something different.

“Y/L/N.”

“Romanoff.” It was a warning, of course, a system you'd agreed upon to protect your secret if others were around. Sure enough, when her camera flicked on, you were greeted to the sight of the Avengers milling around her.

“We have company,” she told you somewhat redundantly, as you were shown the visitors sitting around the Barton family's kitchen table, with Nick Fury standing at the head of it all.

“Evening, Director,” you said.

“Did you know too?” Tony scoffed, “he’s got both of you?”

“Just Maria,” Fury corrected, “but why put in the effort to hide it from Y/L/N?”

“Does anyone actually know my first name?”

“No.”

“We’ve got a lead on Ultron.”

“You have a plan?”

“I always have a plan,” the man scoffed, almost in disbelief that you'd asked such a question. “Hill’s helping me out, and I'm bringing Banner back too. As for you… Steve, Clint, and Natasha are off to Seoul. You wanna help your old team?” Fury smirked with an eyebrow raised; he knew your answer before you could give it, so you played into it by pausing and humming as if considering your options.

“I suppose I can help out,” you said at last, earning an eye roll from Natasha in the background, “I'm sure they really need me.”

Natasha came to the forefront of the image again and grabbed her phone back. “That's enough of that,” she said; you raised your eyebrows and smirked at her tone. You saw Clint react the same, though he tried to hide it.

“Go to bed, Y/N. We'll call in when we need you.” She hung up before you could comment on her use of your first name.

—:::——::-————>◇<—————::——:::—

“We have to be careful. If Ultron is here, he's not gonna like that we're here too. So stay hidden, stay vigilant, and I'll be right back.”

The suit cams were deactivated for this mission – something about Ultron picking up on the transmission frequencies, you weren't sure; all you did know is that it made your job harder. 

“Two minutes; stay close.” You assumed that they'd dropped Steve off.

Despite your statements the night before, you really weren't needed on the mission: Steve took mission lead, Natasha controlled tracking, and Clint flew the jet with no hesitations, all you were there for was backup, lest something go wrong.

Perhaps you thought too hard about that last point, jinxing the team with your belief that it would all run smoothly, but the plan collapsed almost instantly. Steve didn't direct his message to your group specifically, but looped you all into his conversation with Dr Cho.

Ultron knew they were there, he'd injured Cho, he had two superpowered twenty-somethings on his team, and he'd created a weapon beyond capabilities, something indestructible. Or, at least, he was in the process of making it; you still had a chance to stop its creation… silver linings.

“I've called for medical,” you said. That left Steve free to focus on the fight at hand, taking instruction from Natasha and Clint on where to find the metal man.

Clint, the eye in the sky, lived up to his codename by spotting it first: “There. It's a truck from the lab.” Steve clambered up and across the roads without hesitation, before a blast to the truck door almost blew him into moving traffic – at least it confirmed that Ultron could be found inside.

“Well, he's definitely unhappy. I'm going to try to keep him that way.”

“You're not a match for him, Cap.”

“Thanks, Barton.”

With Steve in the fray, you had to take command once again; your position away from the fight gave you the best overview with which to form a plan, and access to all angles of sight.

You only saw one way forward: “Natasha, you need to get into the fight. Steve can't get the cradle like this, so make the most of the distraction he's providing.

“Never thought I'd see you giving me orders.”

You didn't need cameras to picture the smirk on her face, you just knew it was there in the same way you knew that, despite her talk back, she would be following your instructions.

“A real role swap, I know,” you deadpanned, “now get on your bike.”

Was it essential for Natasha to ship her motorbike with her to every destination? No. Had you questioned her on it countless times? Yes. Did it occasionally come in useful? Unfortunately yes, but that was an answer that you would never admit to her face.

“We've got a window!” Clint took over, flying low to the ground so that Natasha could disembark, “Four, three…give ‘em hell.”

From then on, you could only do so much to keep track of all the agents, so Clint took charge of directions, watching from above to keep Natasha on the right track, while you monitored the truck's ever changing location. The roles eventually aligned as Natasha came up alongside the truck, throwing Steve's shield up to restore his upper hand in the fight.

Ultron could fight a battle on two fronts though; after being knocked down by Cap, he pulled a chunk of tarmac out of the road to keep Natasha away. 

“Since when could he do that?” you asked into the comms.

Natasha was tenacious, a fact Ultron soon found out, and a clump of dirt didn't deter her. She neared the vehicle again, just for the enemy's robotic lackeys to fire at her this time.

“Clint, can you draw out the guards?” she suggested.

“Let's find out.”

Firing at the robotic man did just that, and soon the Quinjet weaved through the sky, trying to shake off various bodies on Ultron, which left Natasha free for her retrieval.

“Natasha, the Ultrons are on you now,” you warned. They hadn't seemed to see her in the truck, but latched onto the sides.

“Okay, the package is airborne,” came Clint's next comment, as the robots carried the truck away from reach. That didn't matter though, as Natasha was still inside and by the sounds of it, knew just what to do. You'd lost sight of them, so focused your attention on Steve's fight with the main Ultron body…or at least, as much as you could see.

The train cameras were non-operational and soon enough, the whole train was too.

“I lost him; he's headed your way,” Steve yelled. With the fight in the air, he couldn't follow, but he also had bigger problems: a runaway train, with the driver hit and the controls fried.

“The train's at the end of the line, I can't stop it from here.”

“Nat!”

“There are no controls; I need to get civilians out of the way.”

“Cap, you seen Nat?”

“If you have the package, get it to Stark! Go!” Steve said, momentarily distracted as he answered Clint's request.

“Clint, what's happened to Nat?” you shouted, quickly leaving Steve to his own problem – this was a higher priority to you.

“Do you have eyes on Nat?”

“Go!”

You scan everything you can get your hands on, desperate for a sight of your girlfriend; but they had been too high up, too far to be covered in any camera footage. She may as well have disappeared.

“Clint,” you said urgently, cutting Steve out of the communications for the moment, “what happened to Natasha?”

“Ultron got her. I don't know, she was with the cradle and then he flew past and she's not there.”

“She didn't fall, so he's got her.”

“I can't look for her here.”

“I know. Just get back.”

“I'm sorry. We'll find her, Y/N”

“We better. And I don't care if he's vibranium, I'm gonna kill Ultron with my own two hands next time we see him.”

The train sat stationary and steaming by the time your focus returned to it. Steve stood out among the crowd, and you realised he had the Maximoff twins by his side.

“The press will be on the scene any minute. I've sent ambulances and Damage Control. Steve, Stark has a jet at Incheon, get there and get back ASAP,” you mumbled the instructions to him then hung up, once again leaving him to fend for himself.

You threw your headset down with a scream, and stormed to where the other Avengers had settled. 

Anger rarely got the best of you after missions were over, but that's because even after the worst incidents, Natasha would be there to keep you sane, and talk it through. Now she was gone, and you had no leads to getting her back.

“Where's Fury?” you demanded, seeing only Bruce and Tony in the room.

“Off on his own little mission, he picked Maria up and left. Do you know what it is? Because that man is always-”

“Natasha is missing.” You don't care that you interrupted Tony, and you don't care that there's probably better ways to break the news. Ultron had killed and hurt and targeted people the Avengers were close to; finding Natasha was urgent.

Bruce broke out of the stupor first. “What?”

“Natasha is missing. And if anyone could find her, it would be Fury, but since he's missing-”

“I'll set up nets, have one of my AIs tracking the internet for any signs of her. If she's out there, we'll find her.”

You nodded, and relaxed your body temporarily when you realised how stressed you looked. “I'm gonna keep looking,” you mumbled, “Clint's on his way back with the body Ultron was building – find a way to dismantle it safely when he arrives.”

Neither man spoke as you vacated the room and headed to the floor below. After SHIELD fell, the room has been converted into storage for some of their old tech, ranging from their founding in the 40s up until the internet age took prominence. There was nothing you could find on the internet that Stark's tech couldn't do faster, so you resorted to old fashioned methods: radio waves, faint signals, and contacting agents across the globe. One way or another, Natasha would be found.

Ultron was different to any enemy you'd faced before, he had no fixed body, he couldn't die, and he had more knowledge than even an espionage agent ever could. But his sentience, the humanity he tried to destroy… you noticed that, and that would be his downfall; Ultron theoretically could have been unstoppable, but he was a show-off, he craved attention, and because of that, he didn't always make the most logical moves. He hadn't dismantled JARVIS, he'd made a mess of the system and bragged about it; he'd killed Strucker and sent a message, even if that was the clue to finding him. If he'd killed Natasha, or hurt her in any way, he'd be boasting of it for attention – so you knew she was alive, and that hope kept you searching. The best spy alive was still alive, and she'd find a way to send you a signal.

—:::——::-————>◇<—————::——:::—

“I've never seen Y/N as stressed as this, nor you.”

You'd seen Clint's return and gone upstairs to greet him; you knew he would be as stressed as you in the situation. But when the conversation you found was focused on you and Natasha, you felt the sudden urge to hide and listen in.

“Y/N and Nat were recruited at the same time, to the same cohort. They’ve been friends for 7 years, longer than I've even been working with Natasha, so what can you expect? Natasha's been through a lot; a lot of injuries, scares, and dangerous missions, but nothing like this. We've always had tabs on her.”

“Guess now you know how Widow felt about you back in 2012.”

“Not the time Tony.”

“Anything on Nat?” Bruce asked Tony, having the sense to change the conversation somewhat.

“I haven't heard, but she's alive or else Ultron would be rubbing our faces in it.”

Clint then changed the topic completely, returning attention to the cradle he'd brought in.

“We're going to need to access the program, break it down from within.”

“Any chance Natasha might leave you a message, outside the internet? Old-school spy stuff?”

You thought Tony was just trying to make Clint feel useful while he and Bruce worked, and you appreciated his efforts. It also meant you had to rush back downstairs and continue to fiddle around as if you hadn't just been eavesdropping.

The archer hurried down the stairs. You saw him pause at the sight of you, before he approached more slowly.

“I am sorry, I know it's not your fault,” you began, though you didn't dare look up at him, “are you doing okay? She's your best friend too.”

“She was right there. Maybe I could've…”

“Neither of us could have done anything. She was falling through the air; that's not territory we can help in.”

“We'll find her though,” Clint repeated. You knew it was to convince himself. You nodded, then returned to your work – this time with an old friend by your side.

Minutes later, static buzzed through the radio, with vibrations echoing on the screen. You looked at each other, open mouthed, then hurried to take notes.

“Morse?”

Clint nodded, then smirked as he held the headset to his ear. He listened and typed quickly, pulling up a satellite image of a Sokovian castle.

“Coordinates. God she's smart. Come on, let's go tell them.”

Clint called to you, but your attention had diverted. You caught his eye then looked back up at the glass ceiling, pointing overhead to where one of the Maximoff twins stood, an unplugged cord in his hand.

Clint growled and grabbed his gun to shoot up and shatter the glass on which Pietro stood, causing the twin to come clattering down. The spy wasted no time in pinning him down. “What? You didn't see that coming?”

The broken glass made the blasts, punches, and threats from above even more audible. You pulled Pietro to his feet but held him back, nodding for Clint to leave the two of you and try to break it up.

You watched the scene unfold and get more and more aggressive. Pietro struggled in your hold when he saw Bruce grab his sister, and you were tempted to let him loose until she freed herself and sent the scientist flying backwards. Once the cradle was activated, and the red body of Ultron's creation flew out of it and into Thor, you saw no point holding the speedster back.

“Go check on your sister,” you muttered, and slowly ran after the blur into the common room.

The creation – the synthesoid – had calmed down by your arrival, and the team reached an uneasy truce to keep him, knowing there was no other hope to stop Ultron.

“Three minutes,” Steve eventually announced, “get what you need.”

You stood still for a moment. While the others dispersed to their lockers and equipment, you had no similar place to go – you weren't called in for last minute missions like the main Avengers were, so everything you needed, you kept in your room. You wouldn't have time for that on this mission, so you decided Natasha's locker would have to do.

“Come on,” you called to the twins who, like you, had been standing around without much direction. “Tony's undershirts might fit you,” you said to Pietro, sizing him up as you unlocked the cubicle, “and use Nat’s clothes if your sister needs.” The sister in question – Wanda – drifted behind the two of you; her focus not on you, but on the conversation happening between Thor and the synthesoid outside.

You grabbed the clothes and weapons you needed from Natasha’s locker, then left the twins to it.

“Ultron knows we're coming,” Steve told the team on the jet, forming the plan before you get there, “odds are, we'll be riding into heavy fire. And that's what we signed up for, but the people of Sokovia, they didn't. So our priority is getting them out. All they want is to live their lives in peace, and that's not going to happen today, but we can do our best to protect them, and we can get the job done.”

Tony would be the one to fight Ultron head on, Thor to investigate the robots plans, and Bruce to rescue Natasha. You tried to step in and volunteer yourself, but Clint held you back, subtly shaking his head.

“Bruce can get her out,” he whispered to you, “you'll do a better job getting civilians out than him, and it'll keep your secret a secret.”

You grumbled, but agreed, and eventually conceded to his case. So when the jet landed and Thor and Bruce headed toward the fortress the Avengers had fought so hard to infiltrate just a week before, you turned and ran the other way, into the main city of Novi Grad.

No work you did could be as effective as the twins; the pair evacuated buildings in mere minutes and knew their hometown well enough to know exactly which places to target. Meanwhile, you hurried the streets with Clint, helping anyone struggling with the evacuation process.

Almost everyone had vacated their homes, most on their way to Sokovia’s neighbouring villages, when Ultron's plan truly started. The ground rumbled, and the streets and buildings soon began to ascent into the sky. Orderly evacuation descended into chaos as civilians clamoured to jump down to solid ground while they still could – a window that only lasted seconds before the remaining civilians, and all the Avengers, became stranded on the floating rock.

“Bruce, did you find Natasha?” you heard Clint shout. Steve and Tony debated their changing plans in your ear, so if Bruce ever gave a reply, you didn't hear it.

Regardless, your attention couldn't linger on it for long, as a floating island wasn't enough for Ultron, he had to send hundreds of his identical lackeys into the fray as well. 

“The rest of us have one job: tear these things apart. You get hurt, hurt 'em back. You get killed, walk it off.”

A mission was a mission, and you took to it well – even if you couldn't get the civilians to safety, you could protect them where they were. They began to congregate, and you moved with them, shooting, stabbing, and kicking the decoys whenever they got near, while herding the civilians towards shelter. It wasn't the most effective, but you were no superhero.

That remained your role, even as a certain redhead on the field caught your attention.

“Natasha!” you yelled.

She looked over and grinned when she saw you – a smile that was soon wiped off her face when an Ultron rocketed into you. You tussled with it, but it was Natasha who eventually pulled it off of you, shooting it in the head before you decapitated it for good measure.

She smiled again, then offered a hand to pull you to your feet.

“Why weren't you answering your comms, hmm? I was worried about you! I didn't know if Bruce got you out okay!”

“Oh, I don't know, baby, maybe because a psychotic robot took me captive and took away my means of communication?”

“Not those ones, Bruce's spare set! He was meant to give them to you.”

A robot came to end your reunion, but Natasha had it dead in seconds. “He didn't, but I pushed him into the crater so I can't really blame him-”

“You did what? Natasha you know you can't be doing that.”

“He wanted to run and I needed to get to you,” she smirked, with all the confidence of someone who knew they'd gotten away with it. “What else is a girl supposed to do?”

You sighed, then took her hand. “Just put this in. I had a spare set too.”

“We are not clear! We are very not clear!” Steve's voice echoed as she put it in, proving that it did in fact work.

“Now go be a hero,” you nodded, “I've got this.”

She squeezed your hand tightly before she ran to what used to be the bridge, where Steve and Thor had set up their operations.

You watched her go while completing your own job of keeping the civilians safe. The robots had dispersed, but you were still fighting a few when, minutes later, Nick Fury appeared on the comms. 

“Glad you like the view, Romanoff. It's about to get better.”

Even from where you stood in the city, the helicarrier dominated the skyline and filled you with hope.

“Let's load ‘em up,” Steve commanded, and you didn't have to be told twice.

You beckoned to the crowd of people you had been protecting, and the stragglers who slowly emerged from their own hiding places as the hope of safety, and led them towards the ship. Natasha was by your side again, allowing you to direct the civilians without taking on several robots alone at once.

Countless ferries to the helicarrier later, and streams of civilians still emerged from the maze of crumbling apartment blocks. Ultron wouldn't let the team have that one victory, and Thor soon warned the heroes about an incoming attack on the vibranium core – an attack which would decimate the Earth and its population.

“Rhodey, get the rest of the people on board that carrier. Avengers, time to work for a living.”

Natasha grabbed your wrist as you signalled for more civilians to board the ferries, “are you coming?”

“Someone needs to stay and help them here,” you said with a shake of your head, “and Rhodey is dealing with enough in the sky. This is your mission, my love, so go finish it.”

She leant in, seemingly before she realised you were still surrounded by people, after which she veered to the side and pulled you into a tight hug instead.

“I'll see you afterwards, okay? Come back to me this time.”

“I promise.”

Then, once again, you stood and watched as Natasha ran into the fight. Screams and yells from the people surrounding you soon snapped you back to the present and you jumped onto duty. You called out to the civilians in your limited Sokovian, directing them in huddles from the cover of the police station onto the ferries, until they were in the ex-SHIELD team's capable hands.

“They're trying to leave the city,” Thor noticed, and sure enough, several silver bodies flew overhead, aiming to escape the Avengers' assault.

“I'm on it,” came Rhodey’s response, as he left you alone with the Sokovian authorities to protect the civilians boarding the ships. The civilian numbers were dwindling, as most had boarded already, and only the last stragglers were still arriving. Zips of blue occasionally crossed your sight, as Pietro scoured the city for any last boarders and deposited them by your side.

He eventually slowed down enough to talk, just as Clint and Natasha raced into the Square – where they had time to find and hijack a car, you'd never know.

“That's everyone,” Pietro panted, anyone not on the boats is here.

You nodded, looking around the square again. “We're almost done loading, you can probably-” you began, but rapid gunfire turned both of your heads like a shot.

“Natasha!” you yelled. The artillery had been aimed directly at her and the Hulk. The creature roared at the jet, bullets bouncing off of his skin, while Natasha was nowhere to be seen. As you ran towards her, it was only when you got close that you saw her body on the ground.

The world blurred around you as your only goal was to sprint forward, but even that failed. The Hulk picked her up, her body cradled gently in his arms, then leapt. 

You turned back; he had jumped towards the helicarrier, but another sight caught your eye. A few bodies lay strewn in the street, victims of Ultron's final push, but Steve and Clint knelt still beside one of them. You traipsed back, seeing no point in rushing when the day had already taken so much. 

Agents and guards rushed off the boats, running all around you to collect the bodies of their friends and colleagues. You continued forward. Steve looked up and met your eye, and you finally noticed the limp body in his arms. Clint returned the child to his mother, and Steve brought the final body – Pietro's – on board. You sat with the Captain in silence as the boat began to ascend.

“He was supposed to get Wanda,” you said at last, the realisation hitting you that she was still in the floating city. “Has anyone got Wanda?”

There was no time for anyone to respond because, just as your ship docked, the whole city began to fall.

“Thor, on my mark,” Tony said, and you watched as the city began to crumble into pieces.

Steve put his hand on your shoulder, bearing a defeated look as he guided you into the main body of the helicarrier. Your mood was sour, but the sight that greeted you inside finally began to change it for the better.

“Natasha!” you breathed, running forward as a grin spread across her face. You grabbed her and held her at an arm's length to assess her for injuries, but found nothing severe. “You're okay? You're alright?”

“I’m alright. I promised you I'd come back to you just fine.”

“Well that was before-”

“The Vision has got Wanda,” Steve interrupted, “I'm going to go up and tell her about… you know, but are we agreed on bringing her back with us?”

“She's got powers that she'll need training to control, I doubt the government will let her do anything else but come with us.”

“Don't bring that part up just yet though,” you added, “she's dealing with enough.”

He nodded, then left the two of you alone again. “So, The Vision…is that the red guy?” Natasha asked quickly. The two of you began to walk towards the control boards.

“Oh yeah! I suppose you were never properly introduced. Thor had a ‘vision��, and it was powerful enough to make him take Tony's side.”

“Wow, Asgardian visions must be something else.”

“You're telling me.”

“Y/L/N!” Fury called. You and Natasha stopped in your tracks to look over at him; he raised an eyebrow and impatiently beckoned you closer. 

“I need a word with Y/N. Alone.” The Director warned when Natasha followed you over, “we have your big green friend on call, see if you can get through to him while we talk.”

Natasha’s first reaction was to check with you, but you met her eye and nodded, giving her the reassurance that you could deal with Fury alone.

You watched alongside Fury as your girlfriend rounded the corner and disappeared from sight, before the man finally turned to you with a glint in his eye.

“I have some news for you, if you're interested in hearing it-”

—:::——::-————>◇<—————::——:::—

“Your suit’s not on properly.”

“What? Yes it is, I can dress myself just fine, Nat.”

“Your belt is supposed to be tucked into your left belt loop, not the right.”

You looked down and, sure enough, your belt was wrapped anti-clockwise around your waist instead of clockwise. You then looked back up at your girlfriend, a tired look of disbelief on your face that that was the detail she decided to pick up on.

“Literally no-one is gonna notice that.”

“I did.”

“You're a special case.”

“Awww, you think I'm special,” she cooed sarcastically, before deftly undoing a redoing your belt. “There. You're all set.”

“Who'd have thought this is where we'd be 7 years ago, huh?”

You stepped out of your room, Natasha following right behind you, and headed toward the giant halls of the new Avengers Facility.

“I definitely didn't, you were shit when we met.”

“I'd argue but I always admitted that was true. And now here we both are, leading teams while we're still in our 20s… except, oh wait, oh you're old, I forgot.”

“You're so funny,” Natasha deadpanned, giving a sarcastic grin in response to your smug look.

“Fury wants to meet me here,” she then said, stopping you both at the intersection between your destination and a dead-end viewing platform. She took your hands in hers and traced your knuckles with her thumbs, “I am proud of you, you know that? You've achieved so much, and you're going to do brilliantly today. Good luck, my love.”

“Good luck to you too, baby.” You learnt in, kissing her quickly before you drifted apart, spitting towards your opposite destinations. “No pressure,” you called after her, “but the future of Earth's defence is in your hands!”

She flipped you off, while you turned and continued to walk down the endless maze of corridors until you bumped into Steve.

“Morning, Captain,”

“Y/N. Are you off to training?”

“Sure am.”

“I still don't suppose I can convince you to join me and Nat?”

You shook your head apologetically. “A team of superheroes and superpowers isn't really where I should be. The cameras and publicity and media scrutiny, it's not for me. But I've got my place and I've got my new recruits to train, so when you need us, we'll be there to support you in the background of it all.”

—:::——::-————>◇<—————::——:::—

Series Taglist: @fairychev @catswag22 @sapphosclosefriend @romanoffsgal @taliiiaasteria @saraaahsstuff @blacklightsposts @automaticdinosaurtaco @dyslexic-dreamer

General Taglist: @canvascoloredin @fxckmiup @wizardofstories

[navybrat817]

Hunger

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky would rather eat in than go out. Word Count: 1.2k Warnings: Implied explicit sexual content (fingers and mouth, f. receiving), light possessive behavior, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: A little something for our Addicted to Love couple. Hope you lovelies like it! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Header by yours truly. Banner by the lovely @sgt-seabass and divider by the wonderful @rookthorne. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky tried to cancel his breakfast plans with Steve and Sam.

Again.

You encouraged him to grab a bite to eat with the guys and he had every intention of going. He truly did. The moment he saw you in your black bra and panties when he poked his head in to check on you though, there was only one thing he wanted to eat.

“She needs me.”

He didn’t bother looking at the response from the text he sent. Steve and Sam knew it meant that he needed you. If they had you standing in front of them looking like a feast, they would’ve rearranged their plans, too.

Sorry, boys. Not sharing.

“Hey. I thought you were heading out,” you said as you headed toward the closet, seemingly unaware of the enticing sway of your hips.

Minx.

“I’m having breakfast here,” he replied in a low voice.

You stopped when he moved in front of you, a look of concern crossing your face. “Wait, you’re not going? How come?”

He picked up on your worry as he shook his head, wanting to halt the turning wheels in your head. You turned his life upside down beyond the sexual chemistry you two shared. You cared about his mental well-being and wanted to be sure everything was okay if he ever broke plans.

Still a wonder some days that you love me.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed.

He wasn’t sure if the look in his eyes was adoration or hunger or a bit of both, but your body tensed as he took a step toward you. The sharp inhale drew his attention to your chest and he could sense your nipples hardening against the fabric. “Bucky, my beauty is not a reason to skip breakfast.”

“Who said I was skipping my meal?” he asked, bringing his hand up to touch your cheek. His fingers moved along your skin until they stopped at your neck. Your body shivered as his thumb brushed along your pulsepoint. “All you have to do is lay down and let me eat.”

Your eyes slipped shut as he guided you to the bed, not needing to look as he led.

Because you trust me enough to never lead you down the wrong path.

“Bucky, you need to see your friends,” you urged, though your voice sounded more like a caress than an order as he helped lay you down.

Though you couldn’t see it, he smirked. “So, you don’t need me?” he asked as he hovered over you.

“Of course, I need you,” you said, not the least bit embarrassed as you opened your eyes and gazed up at him. “And I know you can tell that I’m wet without touching me, but I’ll let you feel.”

He lost his train of thought when you wrapped your fingers around his wrist. He wasn’t sure how this turned into you seducing him, but his heart pounded when you guided his hand into your panties. His cock throbbed with need as his fingers slid along your folds.

You drive me fucking crazy. I need to be inside you.

Bucky was a former assassin. A soldier. A machine. Just one touch of your silken heat and he nearly crumbled. The mere presence of you broke his resolve. The strange thing about it was he still felt in control.

How?

He wasn’t rough when he pushed a finger inside, but your hands flew up to grip his arms with a gasp. Like you were ready to collapse along with him. Falling apart is the inhale. Piecing you back together is the exhale.

“If you need me, why are you pushing me to go?” he asked, lazily pumping his finger.

His blue eyes widened when you brought your hand back to his wrist and squeezed it twice to stop his movements. You pulsed around his finger like you needed more, but he refused to move since you gave him a signal to stop. He searched your face to make sure there was no visible pain and relaxed when you sat up slightly to kiss him.

He didn’t relax completely even though he moved his lips against yours.

Tell me why you stopped me, please.

"I love you and you love me,” you whispered, giving him another soft kiss. “But you also need them.”

Bucky swallowed as he gently removed his finger and pulled his hand free of your panties. You wanted him to have a sense of normalcy after everything he went through. He appreciated that more than he could say.

“So, you’re okay with me going out?” he asked.

“You don’t need my permission to get breakfast with Steve and Sam,” you assured him. "Just have fun and tell them I said hi."

In a world where he didn’t have choices for so long, he sometimes still felt the need to ask. But even your urging and suggestions weren’t formed as orders. It was encouragement. You would never force him to do anything he didn’t want to, even something as small as a meal.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “And I love you, too.”

He’d thank you forever for loving him.

“And here’s a taste of what’s waiting for you when you’re done,” you smiled, bringing his hand to his mouth.

He sucked on his finger, watching you as your head fell back against the bed. Hunger filled your eyes, too, but you kept it at bay so he could go out. Like he did on the days you went out with your friends.

We’ll always come home to each other, won’t we?

“I don’t think that’s enough,” he said once he licked his finger clean, the flavor of you making him crave more.

“That’s too bad. You need to-”

He tore the offending fabric off before you could finish. “Just one more taste.”

“Bucky, I liked those,” you groaned as he sank down and opened your legs.

“They were in my way.”

Closing his eyes, he licked a slow stripe along your slit, growling as his nose brushed your clit. He stayed for a moment, savoring your taste, scent, feel. His personal treasure. His everything.

Mine. All mine.

“Just a taste,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your clit as your thighs trembled.

“What?” you asked in confusion as he suddenly got to his feet, leaving you open and empty as you lifted your head.

“See? I have self control,” he said, tucking your torn underwear in his pocket.

“Tell that to your cock,” you said, nodding at his crotch before your head fell back again. The jeans did nothing to hide his hardness and he’d have to find a way to make that go away when he left. “Bring me back something, please?”

“Your favorite,” he promised. “And I think it’s only fair to finish what I started when I get back.”

“You better,” you smiled, blowing him a kiss. “I’ll be here waiting.”

Bucky didn’t tell you that he planned to get his breakfast to go. Or that Steve and Sam placed a bet on how long it would take for him to rush home to you. It didn’t matter.

Because you still had your legs wide open when he got back.

Bucky deserves the love and can eat whenever he wants. Hehe. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[daisynik7]

Rough Day

Kishibe x f!reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Summary: You know the perfect way to take care of your boyfriend when he’s had a rough day at work.

cw: established relationship, Kishibe is 50 while reader is younger (20s, 30s, even 40s, whatever you want), smut - blowjob, cream pie, vaginal sex (cowgirl), dirty talk, use of pet names (baby, princess, slut), multiple orgasms. Author's Notes: Another short smutty one-shot about one of my fictional boyfriends having a bad day, made better through sex (of course). Enjoy! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are ALWAYS appreciated! Thanks for reading! Banner made by @cafekitsune!

When Kishibe arrives home from work, he is tired. It doesn’t matter that he’s gotten used to this over the decades; killing devils is always exhausting. Plus, being over the hill doesn’t help either. There are aches and pains he suffers through more so than he did in his youth. He never wishes for a time machine, but sometimes, he wants to feel young and spry again, if just for a moment. 

And that’s where you come in.

He never expects it from you, although you always manage to know exactly when he needs it. You’ve been together long enough to understand when he’s in need of some serious rest and relaxation, the kind that only you can provide to him. He drags his feet through the door, quietly grunting as he slowly slips out of his shoes, barely speaking a word. He stands behind you on the couch, leaning down to give you a peck on the cheek, draping his coat on the arm rest beside you. Still quiet, he heads directly into the bedroom, the soft thud of him collapsing onto the mattress making you smile. You shut the TV off and follow him in, seeing him splayed out at the end of the bed, legs hanging off the edge, feet flat on the carpet. An exasperated sigh leaves his lips.

“Rough day?” you ask, amused at the dramatics.

He simply grunts in response. Very rough day, you think. 

You step towards the bed, looking at him, smirking. “Anything I can do to make you feel better?”

He always tries to downplay it, but his eyes widen ever so slightly, excited. “No.”

“Are you sure about that?” You kneel in front of him, spreading his legs apart and positioning yourself between. “You sure you don’t want me to take care of you?” 

Reaching for his waistband, you start to unbuckle his belt. He hums, low and gravely from his throat. “Do you want to take care of me?” Kishibe is always too ashamed to ask for it initially. He’d rather you offer it. 

Feeling generous, you answer, “I do. I want to make you feel good.” Unzipping his pants, you hook your fingers through the belt loops, shimmying it down his legs until they’re at his ankles. There’s an evident bulge in his boxer briefs, tight against the fabric, aching to be free, to be touched. You place your hand gently to his balls, massaging him. “Fuck,” he moans.

You slide along the outline of his erection, teasing it between your fingers. He props himself on his elbows, watching you work your magic. The same tired expression in his face, except for eyes flickering with lust. Slipping beneath the band, you tug at his underwear, his boner flopping against his abdomen. At this, he sits up, leaning back on his wrists, looking down at you with his dick twitching in front of your face. You gaze at him, grinning as you stroke him. He groans, eyes never leaving you, loving the way his stiff cock is snug in your fist, jerking him off exactly the way he likes it. You’re always so good to him.

After a few pumps, you lean closer, grazing your lips at the tip, sticky with precum. Spreading it like a fucking gloss. You taste it, enjoying the salty bitterness that you’ve indulged in plenty of times before. With your lips surrounding him, you sink down, taking him into your mouth. He sucks in a breath, resisting the urge to thrust deep into your throat as you bob up and down on his shaft. 

“Fuck, princess,” he mutters, knuckles curled into the sheets. “Feels so fucking good.”

You hum happily, plunging further to the base, nose buried in his groin, chin brushing his balls. His tip tickles the back of your throat, swallowing around him until there’s tears welling in your eyes and your gag reflex activates. You pull off quickly to catch your breath, a thick string of saliva connected from his cockhead to your lip, him in your fist again. 

He shifts forward, reaching towards you to brush away the small tear at the corner of your eye. “So good to me,” he whispers. “My perfect little slut.” His thumb grazes your lips, then slips in entirely. You suck on it as he presses on your tongue, swiping it across wet heat. You continue to stroke him, dick firm in your hold, almost at his climax. When you increase the pace, he stops you, pulling his thumb out.

“Rub your pussy on me. I want to come like that,” he huffs, scooting up the bed. He kicks off the slacks pooled at his ankles, now completely naked from below the waist, tossing his loose tie to the floor and unbuttoning his dress shirt halfway. You strip out of your pants and underwear, crawling over to straddle him, rubbing your throbbing pussy along his shaft. 

“Just like that,” he says, palms resting behind his head, enjoying the show. “Rub your clit on it. I know you want to.”

You grab his dick, flicking it on your bud, moaning at the sensation. Your hole flutters, desperate to be filled. How easy it would be to slip it inside, to be fucked rough and fast. But you know what he wants. He’s always like this when he’s stressed. You grind against him, waiting for your cue, his hips bucking, breaths shallow, abdomen clenched tight. He’s so close, and you’re so needy. 

“I’m gonna come, baby. You know what to do,” he growls, staring at you. You shift above him, positioning his cock at your slick entrance, sliding it in about halfway with your hand wrapped around the base, stroking him. Seconds later, he swears loudly, spurting his hot load inside you, filling you up. 

A normal man would be finished after this. This is basic biology, human anatomy. It’s nearly impossible for someone to remain erect during their refractory period, right? Isn’t this what every lame ex-boyfriend of yours has claimed? Well, Kishibe is no ordinary man. Besides being the world’s best devil hunter, your boyfriend is also a fucking sex god. This is just a preview. An appetizer. The warm-up. He’s far from being done with you. Very far from it. 

Stuffed with his load, he starts thrusting, cock even harder, fucking his cum deep inside you. “Touch yourself,” he demands, grip tight on your hips, guiding you up and down. “Love seeing you come on my cock.”

You reach between you, dipping into the creamy arousal smeared on his lap, rubbing your swollen clit with slick fingers until you climax. Body sweltering with passionate heat, you hoist your shirt off, unclasping your bra to free your breasts. He squeezes one with his hand, pinching at your nipple, causing you to cry out, “Oh fuck!” 

He nods with a smirk, feet flat on the mattress, bullying his way into your tight pussy. “You’re my nasty slut tonight, aren’t you? My own little sex toy. Love ruining this perfect pussy.” 

You bounce on him, a dumb expression on your face, salivating at the sides of your mouth. He’s buried inside you, fucking your sweet spot ruthlessly, steadfast on making you come again. His body moves in a frenzy, completely different from how he was moments ago. The promise of sex flicked a switch in him. You always know how to bring life back into him, especially after an exhausting day like today. 

His hands slide to your back, guiding you to his chest. “Kiss me.” And of course you do, lips smacking, tongues licking at each other, sloppy and fervent. He slows his thrusts, savoring how seamlessly he fits inside you, shaped perfectly around him. Gliding to your ass cheeks, spreading them apart as he rails you. Your face is nuzzled into his neck, sucking at the skin to create love marks. You come once more without telling him, though he figures it out anyways. Always so observant and keen to even the smallest details about you.

“I know you came again. Making a fucking mess on my cock. I love it,” he teases, giving you a harsh spank on your bottom. “Give me more.”

You keep taking it, cock pumping in and out of you smoothly, creamy and slick with arousal. Eventually, you orgasm a third time, squeezing around him, body spent above him. Still, he doesn’t stop, not until he spills every last drop of his cum inside you, until his balls are empty, and he has no more of himself to give you. 

He manages to keep it up for several more minutes before he’s pushed past the edge, shooting thick spurts of cum all over your pussy walls. He coils his arms around you in a tight embrace, creamy mess flowing out of your fluttering hole and onto his lap. A few beats of silence pass, then, with a satisfied sigh, he says, “Thank you. I needed that.”

You snuggle closer to him, smiling. “I’m always happy to help.”

He kisses the top of your head, inhaling the familiar scent he adores so much. “I love you, princess.”

“I love you too, Kishibe.”

[lahooozaherr]

What Was I Made For?

~A Short Series~

[Masterlist]

Please note: This blog stands with Palestine. If you are interacting with my account and TLOU related posts, I ask that you PLEASE visit these links. Be critical and mindful while partaking in TLOU content and be aware that creator Neil Druckmann is a Zionist.

Pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Rating: Starting T, Eventual E

MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS PLEASE DNI. AGELESS/BLANK ACCOUNTS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Synopsis: After finding a map to a rumored safe place in Jackson, you escape your QZ in Denver in search of it. Surviving by yourself is brutal and wears you down. When you’re finally close to your destination, you collapse from exhaustion. On their morning patrol, Joel and Tommy find you unconscious and frozen in the snow. They act fast in saving you, Joel carrying you back to Jackson. You form a bond with Joel through your recovery, relating over your grief and anxiety together. Eventually, Tommy offers you a job of helping do basic care for the patrol horses in the mornings, acting as sort of therapy and another way to regularly see Joel. Your feelings blossom for each other.

Warnings: fem reader, soft! Joel, themes/discussions of mental health (anxiety, grief, ptsd), probably tooth rotting fluff, discussions of loss/child loss (not super detailed), references to the book “The Road” by Cormac McCarthy, comfort, sort of horse therapy, eventual smut, no physical description, no age specified, Joel carries reader 1 time, I’ll add more if necessary but also each part will be specifically tagged.

A/N: Oh heyyyy I started writing this and I’m determined to finish it. It was originally a one shot but it ended up but being enough where I figured I’ll just make it a short series. Maybe a little self indulgent? Maybe specific? I’m kinda unsure but today’s my birthday so I decided I still want to share it anyways. The title is absolutely inspired by the song by Billie Eilish. I saw a Joel edit to the song before seeing the Barbie Movie and I still think of him when I hear it. “The Road” also makes me think of him (apocalypse, father and child, grief). I’m going to research actual horse therapy but please don’t take this as super accurate representation. I also made a playlist lol. Sort of playing fast and loose with canon, sorry I haven’t played the second game. This is set a few months after Joel and Ellie settle back in Jackson.

My Masterlist | My AO3 | My Taglist

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Credit for photos in banner: Christophe Hohler (top row art), “Original Love” by Marijana Rakicevic (bottom right art).