#every day there’s something new to be angry about

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART TWELVE

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, heavy topics such as death, blood, and past trauma mentioned masterlist a/n: thank you for all your support while i grow through a difficult time!! i appreciate all of you for being so patient and loving. long chapter for u!! <3

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Ghost didn’t remember much about his childhood. His mind blocked it out for him. But he did remember the pain and suffering he went through at such a young age.

He didn’t deserve that. Seeing his family, massacred in front of him. The blood mixed with the metallic scent that even now seemed to tinge his nose with a nostalgia that made him sick.

He was only a child, yet that was the day Ghost was born within him.

It was like an awakening. He saw how cruel the world could be through a pure lens and it tainted his vision red. Nothing was ever the same that day, and gradually, Simon was forgotten and Ghost was his new muse.

He could recall the nights he spent alone, digging through waste bins and slumping out on the streets like a dead dog. Stealing bread from shop merchants and having to run, barefooted to avoid getting beaten. Freezing to death on the street corner when winter came around and the pure snow covered the ground in a blanket.

It was scary for a boy his age. Dehumanizing. He didn’t deserve that.

He thought he was lucky when a ship crew came along, parading the streets to offer security. A job, a place to sleep, and meals — it seemed perfect for somebody who had absolutely nothing.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Ghost never saw Simon again after that day. He was lost somewhere at sea, hidden under the roar of waves. Ghost didn’t know where to look for him until soon enough, Simon had disappeared and Ghost replaced him. Graves made sure of that.

A captain, like hell he was. Ghost knew something wasn’t quite right about Graves the moment he met him, yet as a child, he was desperate. Once he was in, it was too late, and the broken pieces of him became completely irreparable.

Graves held a devilish aura about him, one Ghost could practically see radiating around him. Every step he took was one closer to chaos.

No matter the destination, Ghost was held on by a leash with Graves being the handler. The sights Ghost saw, some being from his doing, was something he’d never get back. It was as if reliving that very day where he lost everything.

Living amongst Graves’ crew was worse than living in hell. He would’ve preferred it. To be banished for his sins, to taste the sweet nectar of death, and live his eternity punished. Anything to stray from Graves and his ship.

When he saw the way you looked—the darkness looming over you, the distress in your eyes—he saw himself. And when he saw Graves, he saw the life that was stolen from him.

That red that clouded his lens when he was a child was all he could see. Pure, angry red.

Now, standing in Price’s quarters, that red only grew angrier. This time, for you—for putting you in the same position he’d been stuck in for years.

You didn’t deserve that.

Your mind was a whirlwind of chaos. It was struggling to digest the information given to you. So much at once and you could barely manage to keep yourself together.

Everybody looked sorry for you. Ghost looked enraged. Price was lost. Soap and Gaz were remorseful. It was too much.

You hated that they looked at you like that. You hated when they didn’t look at you like that more. Having them worry, when for the duration of your stay it was like walking on burning rocks, it felt strange.

Their own worry caused yours as well.

“What is that?” you asked. “The mark of death. I— I don’t know what that is. What does that mean?”

You were becoming more frantic. The panic that ensued was growing, and you could tell it bothered Price. He was quick to grasp your shoulders, settling you.

“It’s complicated,” he explained quietly, hushing you. “That man you saw? His name is Phillip Graves. Some call him the Devil of the Seas. He’s a wicked pirate who feeds off of the innocent, their fear. None of us know what he truly is, not even Ghost, but we believe he’s apart of something sinister.”

“What, like he’s sold his soul? Made amends with the Devil? You are talking madness!” you exclaimed, exasperated.

“We are talkin’ truth,” Price corrected. He was as patient as ever, yet still held the firmness of a leader. “He’s that of a reaper. Souls is what he wants. The mark of death is his contract, you may say.”

“But you are not telling me what the mark does,” you cried.

Your head hurt. The world was spinning. You didn’t understand.

“I think it’s quite obvious what the markin’ is, dove,” the Captain said solemnly. “It is only by miracle it hasn’t happened to Ghost yet.”

“So I am to die? Is that it?” You flickered your gaze between each man. Your eyes told a million stories, and each of them were ones of fear and anguish. “I am going to die?”

“No,” Ghost snapped. You looked at him. He seemed as pain as you were, but the anger was taking over logic. “You ain’t dyin’. Not today, not tomorrow. M’not lettin’ it happen.”

“Ghost,” Soap tried, but he was quickly shut down.

“I said no,” he repeated resentfully. “Price, show her the map.”

Price turned to him, stiffening. It seemed he still didn’t quite want to let you know the full truth. Now, you felt it was to protect you rather than leave you out. It was too late for protection.

The Captain silently walked to his desk, pulling open the old drawer with a slam, shaking the table. He pulled out the map you’d seen so long ago, unrolling it and slapping it on the table.

“Come, dove,” he called, and you listened.

The men surrounded the desk with you, staring down at the map. The ink was still the same as it was before—islands crossed out with an X, while one remained circled.

“Suppose it’s time you knew, hm?” he asked, offering the smallest of smiles. You found that you missed his real one. The one he tried to hide when he found a joke of yours humorous.

Your nerves shot up. Your emotions were at an all-time high. You were scared, scared to find out the truth.

“These islands,” he began, tracing his finger along the map to point at the ones with an X, “are all land marked by Graves. Every single one, we went to in search of a medic. The one in the poem, remember?”

The one who heals the ill and poor

shall be the cure to all demise.

You weren’t sure how it linked to you. You’d never met Graves, nor had you met your pirate crew until they took you away. The connection wasn’t there. It didn’t make sense.

“Yes, I remember,” you confirmed quietly. “What does it have to do with me?”

“We searched for a medic from every village, yet when we arrived, they were famished with death, or on the brink of,” he explained. “All of the villages were all succumbin’ to Graves’ mark of death. We think he was attemptin’ to get rid of all villages as much as he could so we wouldn’t be able to find their medics. We don’t know how, but he knows we have the prophecy, and he doesn’t like it.”

“And how do you know the prophecy is related to Graves?” you questioned. “How do you know it relates to me?”

“Ghost got the prophecy a long time ago when he was still on Graves’ ship,” Soap piped in. His hands rested on the table and he leaned over the map, but his eyes bore into yours. “He was searchin’ for answers even then. This is all he got.”

You couldn’t imagine the desperation Ghost must have felt, knowing Graves had him under his despicable spell. Not knowing whether he was going to live or die.

Your heart ached.

“And me?”

The room went silent, as if your words burned a wound in them.

“Your village had the mark, yet nobody had suffered from it,” Gaz said quietly. His eyes were soft when he looked at you with the unmistakable glimmer of pity in them. “We knew you were the one we were lookin’ for.”

“My village was not cursed,” you denied, shaking your head. “There is simply no possibility. We rarely got outsiders unless they were coming to browse the merchants.”

It clicked in your head how quickly it must’ve happened. Graves, visiting your village under the guise of an innocent shopper, gearing his interest towards the various merchants that littered your small streets.

It would’ve been so easy for him. So terribly easy.

Your people died to Price’s crew, but the true evil was the man who gave the pirates reason to ensure a massacre.

“That’s why you did what you did,” you muttered to yourself in disbelief. “You killed them because of him. You killed Mary because of him.”

“The curse would’ve taken over the moment you left,” Gaz explained. “You were the shield protectin’ them without even knowin’. You’re meant to fulfill the prophecy, grantin’ you immunity until we found you.”

All this talk about a prophecy made you want to scream, cry, yell, anything. Why you? Why were you the one chosen, and why did it have to be you?

You wanted your life back. You didn’t want to be apart of this.

Before you knew it, tears welled up in your eyes. They stung, causing you to blink rapidly. You didn’t want to seem weak, but in this moment, you were.

“Dove?” Gaz called out, concerned.

“I don’t want this,” you cried, shaky hands balling into fists. “You—you knew I was apart of this and never told me. You kept me in the dark for this long, you hid me from the truth, and for why?”

“We don’t have all of the information yet, dove, please—” Price began, but you shut him down.

“Bullshit!” you shouted, and he reeled back in surprise. You had been outspoken before, plenty with the Captain especially, but he had never seen you lash out so fiercely. “You took my life away because you assumed I was the one in your ridiculous prophecy on a whim. You took a guess and went with it. I am hardly a proper medic, let alone worthy enough to be that person for you, so why have you chosen me?”

“You must understand, you were the only medic left alive,” Price defended. “We had no choice. We did what we had to do.”

“At my expense,” you argued.

“At all of our expense,” he retorted. “I did not care for your life when we stole it. I did not care for it when you were locked in the brig. I cared for Simon’s.”

You fell silent, whipping your head to look at Ghost. You’d heard Price call him Simon before, by a slip-up, but now he had said it purposely. Ghost simply looked away, arms crossed over his chest.

All that talk before and now, at your aid, he was as quiet as a street mouse.

“Without you, he will die. We do not know when. Graves hasn’t killed him due to the thrill of holdin’ his life in his hands. It’s a toy to him. He can take his life away at any moment, and I would not allow that, even if it meant ruinin’ yours.”

Price’s cheeks were reddened from the frustration and helplessness he was feeling. He was a Captain trying to save his crew’s life, uncaring of yours—in the beginning, at least.

Now, the mere thought of losing both had him kneeling like a pitiful dog to the Devil of the Seas.

“I do not wish to be here,” you murmured, taking a step back. Soap opened his mouth to retort, but you silenced him. “I need to be alone.”

The Captain gave you a sad smile, nodding his head. He was respecting your wishes.

“As you wish,” he agreed, and you made your way out of the suffocating quarters, returning to your shared one with Gaz and Soap.

“Dove,” a voice called out. It was quiet, like it was whispering, yet to you, it sounded loud. You hated its voice.

It was black. Your eyes couldn’t adjust to the light, no matter how much you shifted them to look around.

Your body felt heavy, as if something was weighing on you. Your lungs were tight, and when you opened your mouth for air, nothing came in. You slapped your hands over your throat, clawing at the skin.

Why couldn’t you breathe? You felt like you were drowning. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t take in an ounce of air, and you could feel your lungs beginning to protest.

A cold panic came over you, like an icy wave consuming you in its dangerous waters. You tried to move your legs, but they were stuck. They were too heavy.

All you could do was helplessly paw at your throat, praying to gasp for a breath, praying that the Gods had mercy on you.

“Dove,” it whispered once more. Where had you heard the voice before? You knew it, but your mind was blanking from the lack of oxygen.

“I’ll be seeing you, dove,” it mocked.

Dove. Dove. Dove.

“Dove!”

You shot awake, a sharp gasp invading your lungs. The burning in your chest was harsh, and it was as if you truly hadn’t been breathing.

Coming to, you blinked the groggy confusion away, lifting a hand to wipe at your eyes.

Soap peered down at you, his eyebrows knitted worriedly. His hands were on each side of your shoulders, as if he’d shaken you awake, and when you realized you had been asleep, you only guessed that’s what he was doing.

“I kept callin’ ye but ye weren’t wakin’,” he said wearily. “Are y’alright?”

You glanced around the room, taking it in. Gaz’s bed. The clothes strewn on the floor. The mess on the small desk that you’d never seen occupied.

You were no longer suffocating in darkness. It was a mere dream—no, a nightmare. A terror.

You were safe.

“I don’t know,” you confessed breathily, still catching air.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you recalled the nightmare. You couldn’t remember the voice, not when you were fearing a death that was merely fake, but you knew now.

“Tell me,” Soap urged gently, taking a seat next to you on the bed. You sat up to join him, frowning at the floor. “It’s okay.”

You risked looking up at him, searching his eyes. They were soft whenever they looked at you, and they’d been like that since the beginning. He was always patient, even when you did things that cost him a scolding from Price.

You felt like you could trust him, more than any of them.

“It was that man,” you explained. “Graves. I think he is messing with my head. I dreamt of dying, like… like I was drowning. I couldn’t breathe. The whole time, I could hear his voice, calling me out. Mocking me.”

Soap listened carefully, taking in every one of your words. He cared, that much you could tell, and the situation weighed heavy on him. The worry lines on his face were proof.

Graves was tormenting with your mind, feeding into your fear. He knew you were terrified, and he enjoyed it. The way he mimicked what he told you, whispering it the same as before, it sent chills down your spine and made your blood run cold.

You understood now why Ghost was always a mystery—because he was scared, too. He just hid it better.

“I am scared,” you confessed shakily. “I do not want to die.”

“And ye won’t,” he assured, but you shook your head.

“You do not know that,” you argued. “None of you do. You have not given me a chance at life. I am stuck in this without a choice, and I am the new target. It’s not fair.”

Soap’s expression dropped into one of guilt. His focus shifted away from you, avoiding your eye, before returning back to you.

“It’s not,” he agreed quietly. “We’ve done to ye what Graves did to Ghost. Treatin’ ye like—like burdening scum, like ye don’t matter. I can’t express to ye how sorry I am for everythin’.”

You didn’t want an apology, but you accepted it nonetheless. It was the first anybody had truly apologized for the mess you were thrown into. Maybe it was something you needed without realizing. You felt a sliver of weight lifted.

“I never had a family,” you told him, staring down at your feet that hung over the side of the bed. The shoes Soap surprised you with stared back at you. “The village did not like my values or my lifestyle. It was hard being an outcast there, but it is even harder here.”

“Yer not an outcast.”

Looking back up at him, you found him smiling, a faint sparkle twinkling back at you.

“Not anymore. We thought ye were a little strange in the beginning, though,” he said, the end of his sentence bordering a tease.

You couldn’t stop your own smile from forming. Despite carrying the crushing weight of the world’s worries, as well as growing a headache with every word spoken from each of them ever since your arrival, you found yourself growing more fond over them the longer you lingered.

It’d been a bumpy road, and there were still miles ahead of you, waiting to unravel. But you couldn’t fully convince yourself that there wasn’t a part of you, yearning to belong with them.

“You are all very strange,” you retorted lightly. “I have never met such people as you before.”

“Thank ye.”

“It was not a compliment.”

Soap snorted, shaking his head at the banter. “The Captain is bitin’ tooth and nail in his quarters, thinkin’ he fucked this all up with ye. Never seen him that worried before, but with Graves bein’ around again, I don’t blame him.”

The statement caught you off guard, and you found yourself curious. “He is worried for me?”

Soap eyed you strangely, as if it had been obvious the whole time. “Ach. ‘Course he is. Cap’s got a good heart, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”

“I did not realize he cared for me after everything,” you confessed.

Soap hummed, looking down at his trousers and picking at a loose thread. “We all do.”

You stared at him dumbly, cocking your head in question when he didn’t elaborate. You had become acquainted with them, surely, you lived with them now after all, but you weren’t aware they truly cared.

When Price had told you they’d grown fond of you, you didn’t quite believe it. You assumed it was his way of convincing you to trust him, but it seemed that wasn’t the truth.

The two of you sat in silence, staring anywhere but at each other. The awkwardness grew, and it felt strange to feel that when the relationships had been too uptight even consider having those moments.

You took the time to weigh out your options. The Captain being worried, especially over messing things up with you, had you in a turmoil.

As much as you wanted to deny the path chosen for you unwillingly, you felt an obligation to please them. Yet, not in the way you initially thought.

You didn’t want to let them down.

Maybe you truly were as strange as Soap thought.

“Is he still in there?” you asked Soap. He perked up, nodding his head.

“Aye. He’ll be rottin’ in there before we know it.”

You pursed your lips, facing that inner battle once more before coming to a conclusion. “Would you like to join me, then?”

Soap raised his eyebrows, watching you stand from the bed. You shot him a warm smile, tilting your head at his confusion.

“For?” he asked.

“You all need a medic,” you said, giving a nonchalant shrug. “And I do not wish to die by the hands of a filthy pirate such as Graves. I am in this now, so I suppose I’ll simply have to deal with it, am I correct?”

Soap’s smile slowly grew at your sudden courage, standing up to join you. He reached out for you, and once you became confused, he looped your arm with his, grinning down at you.

“Sure are, dove. I’ll come with ye.”

The Captain looked a mess when you entered his quarters with Soap. Ghost was beside him where Price sat at his desk, the map and prophecy still scattered on the table. The two of them were speaking hushed to one another, yet when the door opened and you stepped in, they went silent.

“She wanted to be alone, Soap,” Price protested, but you quickly shook your head, taking a step closer to the desk.

“It’s alright,” you assured. “I have had time to think.”

Price’s eyebrows raised and he glanced at Gaz for a brief moment before returning to you. “I see,” he hummed, nodding. “I have as well.”

You cocked your head, eyebrows furrowing. He gestured for Ghost and Soap to step out of the room, requesting privacy, and the sudden realization that you would in fact have to speak after your outburst made your nerves to churn.

Ghost gave your shoulder a light squeeze as he walked behind Soap, catching you off guard. When you looked at him, he stared forward, avoiding your gaze.

The door clicked shut as they left, and you stood uncomfortably in place, shifting on the balls of your feet.

“I owe you an apology,” Price began. “A true one. I may be a Captain, and I know in those regards, I come off rather violent. I can be a brute, I will admit, but I am also a man who knows times when he is right and wrong.”

He stood up from his chair, circling around the desk to face you. He leaned against the old wood, crossing his arms and clearing his throat. Upon quick inspection, you saw the faint smoke of his cigar swirling in its ashtray.

“I should not have treated you so unkindly since the beginning. I should have considered how scared you must have been, how alone it must feel,” he continued, eyes drifting off for a moment as if deep in perplexing thought. “I do not apologize for doin’ what I thought was right in that time to save my own, but I do feel sorrow for what transpired in your time bein’ here.”

You couldn’t help but wonder if Ghost had been the reasoning for this. He wasn’t a man of many words, but you knew the respect him and Price had for one another. It was safe to assume he’d speak with him privately regarding everything.

“I’d like to apologize as well,” you began, but Price stood up straight, quick to raise his hands in protest.

“You have nothin’ to apologize for—”

“I am sorry for lashing out the way I did earlier,” you cut off. Price stopped, lips pressing together. His gaze remained stuck on you, now that you had his attention. “It does not excuse what you have done to me, and I see you have realized that. If this is to be my life, I wish for compromise rather than seclusion.”

Price didn’t say anything at first. His eyes darted over your face, taking in your features. He saw the calmness you held compared to when you were last in his quarters.

You didn’t seem defeated, nor did you seem to simply agree for the sake of him and the others. You wanted this for yourself.

“I will grant you that,” he agreed in a hum, nodding once. “I do not wish for you to feel out of place no longer. You have had enough of that, I believe.”

You took in his words, and they made you smile. It was what you wanted to hear—no angry exchanges, no selfish banter. A simple compromise, one you both wanted.

“Graves came to me in a dream,” you told him. His expression soured. “I believe there will be plenty more instances where he will do that. Based off of what you have told me about him, I do not want to prolong his presence longer than I must. So, I’d like to be of help.”

Just as quickly as Price grew tense at the mention of Graves, he calmed down, shoulders relaxing when he realized your implications.

“Soap has not convinced you, yes?” he asked, uncertain. “This is your call. I may have taken you due to my own selfishness, but I give you the choice now. You do not have to be a part of it if you do not want. You are part of us now, but this is not your battle.”

“It is,” you disagreed, though remained a calm composure. For the first time around Price, you felt at ease in the same room. “If I am to be part of your crew, your family, then your battles are my battles. I may not have had a family, but I am certain that’s how it works. Does it not?”

Price stared at you; expression unreadable. It took mere moments for his lips to slowly curl up, granting you one of his rare smiles that seemed to radiate a certain light you’d never seen before. It caused your heart to pick up, though you were unclear as to why.

“That is how it works with us, dove,” he agreed softly. “Your battles are ours. You can count on it.”

“Wonderful,” you cheered with a smile of your own. “Shall we continue what wasn’t finished before, then?”

Price chuckled low under his breath, his amusement growing the longer you stuck around. He nodded, tapping his desk and calling you to it.

“Come on, dove.”

[yncoreee]

CAN WE SKIP TO THE GOOD PART. Eunchae x reader

Synopsis — she can’t help with the constant teasing and flirting… well maybe she will now that chaewon has eyes on her

Warnings .ᐟ chaewon is really overprotective they have one short kiss, this is prop not all, Requested

꩜ — ⵌWord count 986

Eunchae still doesn’t know how and why she had gotten closer to you. over the past few weeks.

There was just something about you that pulled her like a magnet, the moment she laid eyes on you in the company’s building.

She couldn’t resist the constant flirting and teasing every time she met you. You were just too cute to not be babied nor teased.

Today was like the usual, lesserafim had been practicing all day, working on routines and all.

Eunchae decided to sneakily leave the practice room with the excuse of “getting some refreshments” which was obviously a lie. She was on her way to look for you.

She thought of going back, losing hopes. She was having a feeling that you didn’t come today. Until she bumped into a smaller figure.

“So sor— mmm if it isn’t the cutest girl in this building” she said with a small smirk as she helped you up from the floor.

Playfully, you rolled your eyes dusting the dirt away from your clothes. “You really suck at trying to get me flustered” you responded but couldn’t hold back a smile that tugged the corner of your lips.

“What?? I’m just telling the truth” she shrugged innocently leaning against the wall.

“Yeah right” you said with sarcasm. “Jeez, is that why you’ve been following me around like a lost puppy?” You pointed out raising an eyebrow at the taller girl.

“Oh and what if I just like you?” She asked pushing her body away from the wall, taking small steps towards you.

“You’re crazy” you rolled your eyes, playfully pushing her away. Eunchae let out a low chuckle “Yeah right. Crazy for you”. She smirked, leaning down. Of course she wasn’t going to get away that easily.

You felt your breath hitch and your heart beating faster the closer her face seemed to get to yours. Was she…..trying to kiss you.

No idea. You had absolutely no idea what she’s up to. But something about the way she stares at your lips just draws you closer to her.

Just as the gap between your lips were a mere inches apart a loud gasp was heard from behind.

“WHAT THE HECK IS HAPPENING HERE?!” Your body felt stiff after hearing the familiar voice.

Eunchae stepped away from you, like she had been caught red handed. “I-i chaewon u-unnie?” She managed to stutter, averting her gaze everywhere but the angry leader's face. Which probably looked red and on the verge of exploding.

“What the hell were you thinking of doing to my sister” she spoke through gritted teeth, eyeing the younger girl who, even though was 5cm taller, felt so small under her threatening gaze.

You stood in between them more specifically on eunchae’s side. Ready to protect her from what your sister could possibly pull next.

Eunchae on the other hand was completely baffled. She blinked multiple times at the new found information. “W-wait sister?!”

Chaewon let out a frustrated sigh. “Yes sister. Are you that dumb? Don’t you see the resemblance?!” She yelled the last part like it was the most obvious thing on earth.

“Ack!! Unnie I swear I didn’t know. I never knew! It’s just I like her soooo much, she gives me butterflies in my tummy!! I couldn’t help myself. I promise I won’t ever mess with her again!!” Eunchae pleaded practically kneeling on the ground for chaewon.

“Shut up and stop crying!” ….. “but do you seriously like her?” Chaewon asked. Her expression slowly softened.

“Yes!! I really really like her!” Eunchae nodded her head rapidly as she pulled your hands closer but immediately let go as soon as she noticed the scowl on Chaewon’s face.

Your heart felt like it was running a marathon as you glanced over at the eunchae who was being confident and teasing some minutes ago.

Chaewon closed her eyes, processing the girls words with a skeptical look. “YOU!” She opened her eyes pointing at you. “You like her back huh?”

You came back to reality closing your mouth. “Yes, I really really like her” you answered, nodding your head.

Seeing the skepticism in Chaewon’s eyes eunchae could feel her heart pounding as the pressure only increased. “Unnie I swear I’ll treat her right! I’ll be her forever love, I’ll—“

“Shut it” chaewon held up her index finger to silence the nervous girl.

She sighed finally coming to a conclusion after what seemed like ages. “Fine, I'll give you just one chance. And if you hurt her! I’ll make you decrease in height” chaewon threatened with a stern warning.

Eunchae gulped feeling intimidated by Chaewon’s facial expressions. “I promise” she whispered quietly.

“Good!” Chaewon huffed angrily stomping her foot away but came back to give another warning. “And NO kissing okay?!” She peeped her head from the wall, using her index and middle finger to point to her eyes and back at eunchae. A gesture that meant “I’m watching you”

“Y-yes no kissing” eunchae stuttered.

Eunchae let out a sigh of relief and turned to face you after she heard distant footsteps. “Damn that was hella scary” she admitted leaning against the wall again.

You let out a soft chuckle. “Well at least be happy she even agreed. Chaewon Unnie doesn’t easily agree to thing,It would’ve taken ages” you said acting like it wasn’t that much of a big deal and it was something you were used to.

Eunchae’s eyes widened. “Ages?!! I can’t wait for ages…..” eunchae spoke in a low tone, placing her hands on your waist as she pulls you closer.

She looked around making sure the coast was clear of an angry pupu before finally closing the gap between your lips, placing a short and soft kiss. “I love you y/n” she confessed nuzzling her forehead into yours.

“I love you to—“

“HONG EUNCHAE I THOUGHT I SAID NO KISSING?!!!”

“Uh oh”

[albertasunrise]

Work Wife - Two

Masterlist

Summary: Working as a Secretary and Miller & Sons c”Construction, you fall hopelessly in love with the eldest son Joel. What you don’t realise is that Joel’s completely in love with you too. What will it take for the two of you to realise whats’s right in front of you?

Pairing: Young Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose not to give any so the plot isn’t spoiled. This fic is 18+ (So here’s the first chapter as promised! I hope you all enjoy. Let me know what y’all think ♥️… I wrote half of this on my iPad so sorry for mistakes 😅)

Series Masterlist - One

After two days of you being frosty towards Joel and Joel desperately trying to make up for whatever he had done to upset you, you decided that it was pointless to be upset with him. He hadn't known your reasoning for going to his house so the fact he had a girl there wasn't really a valid reason to be angry at him.

If you were being honest you were more angry at yourself. Your pride had been wounded and that was something that you needed to work through on your own. So by Wednesday, you were somewhat back to being smiley and sweet but there was still a tension there that you knew would take time to dissipate. You just hoped that your date with Simon would take your mind off what had happened.

Your second date with Simon went even better than the first. He was sweet, taking you to a restaurant he remembered you mentioning you loved, and after, he took you for a few drinks at a new gin bar that had opened up. So inevitably, two dates turned into three.

It felt like with each interaction you shared with Simon, the less seeing Joel every day, and knowing that he didn't return your feelings, hurt you. What you didn't realise was that your budding new relationship with Simon was tearing Joel apart. Simon couldn't help but gush to the other contractors about how special you were or how amazingly things were going.

How he was starting to think that you might be the one.

That statement made Joel want to find a remote canyon so that he could lob Simon into it. Yet he knew he had no right to feel jealous. It's not like he'd ever had the guts to go for it. It was his own fault that he was suffering now. Yet that didn't make him hate Simon any less. What he hated more was you talking to him about the dates that his 'so-called' friend was taking you on.

It was killing him.

"Oh Joel, you would have loved the walk Simon and I went on over the weekend." You gushed as you sipped at your coffee "I would show you some pictures but I'm still waiting for them to come back from the developers so…"

"That's fine." Joel replied, trying to keep his tone from sounding as pained as he felt.

"Perhaps you could take Eliza there sometime." You continued, completely oblivious to his torment "It's so romantic and-"

"Eliza and I are just casual." Joel interrupted and you couldn't help but snort.

"Please." You rasped "She's practically living with you now. Fuck buddies don't spend most nights together."

"We're just hanging out."

"And I'm the Queen of England." You rolled your eyes and how oblivious he was to what was going on straight in front of him "If you're just looking for casual then perhaps you need to tell her that."

"I did! I have…" He argued, his hip cocking to one side as he rested his on it.

"Well, perhaps you need to have that conversation with her again because from an outsider's point of view. You and her seem pretty serious."

Joel's stomach twisted at the thought that he was leading Eliza on. She was sweet and he liked her but he wasn't looking to settle down. Not yet.

"Talk to her Joel." you said sweetly as you placed your hand on his "Don't lead her on."

So talk to her he did.

…

Eliza was in the kitchen when he returned that evening. There was already a tense atmosphere hanging over the house as he entered but he didn't have time to ponder why. Not when he needed to get things out in the open.

"Hey." He said gingerly as he stepped into the kitchen and Eliza turned to greet him.

"You're back late." She stated as she placed a plate of food down in front of him before sitting on the chair across from him, her arms crossed.

"Meeting with the wood supplier ran late." He replied and Eliza nodded.

"Eat up." She said, watching him then as he nervously pushed his food around his plate, little appetite when he had an anvil hanging over his head.

"What's the matter with you this evening?"

"I don't think we should do this anymore?" He stated simply, eyes drifting from his plate to Eliza.

"Can I ask why?"

"When we started 'this' up, I told you that I wasn't looking for anything serious and well… it's been brought to my attention that it kinda has and that I need to be honest with you… Make sure I'm not stringing you along."

"And who said that you are?" She demanded and Joel shook his head.

"It doesn't matter… what matters is that I don't want to-"

"Was Pip wasn't it?" Eliza growled "You know she has feelings for you right? Only reason she's seeing shit that's not there."

"Eliza… Pip, doesn't have feelings for me. This is just about us and I-"

"You really are blind aren't you." Eliza cackled and Joel stopped in his tracks.

"Blind to what?"

"Pip is head over heels for you… She told me so herself back when we went for those work drinks and I-"

"She told you that?" Joel interrupted and Eliza huffed before nodding "She told you she was in love with me?"

"Well, her exact words were that she was crazy about you but she knew you didn't feel the same and so she's never told you." Eliza waved off the statement like she wasn't telling Joel everything he'd ever wanted to hear.

Were you crazy about him?

"Look, I told you that I didn't want anything serious either and I still don't." Eliza stated as she shrugged "If this has gotten a little too cosy then we can cool it."

Joel wasn't really sure what to say. The information that you possibly feel the same way for him is running laps around his head.

"Joel?"

"Right… yeah… sorry." He said and he shook his head and returned to reality "Look I still think it's best that we just call it quits." He stated plainly, wincing at the growl it pulled from Eliza.

"Fine." She practically spat at him, getting up abruptly and grabbing her stuff as she went "I'll see myself out."

Joel didn't even get a chance to speak before she was slamming the door behind her. Leaving him to ponder over the events that had just transpired. What should he do?

Should he talk to you about it?

Is that what you had come here to talk to him about all those weeks ago?

It would explain your reaction to Eliza being there.

He knew he couldn't, not, talk to you about this. He needed to know whether or not you still felt something for him, because if you did he wanted to fight for you. For with you, he wanted something real.

…

Months went by before Joel plucked up the courage to talk to you. Each time he decided it was time, he talked himself out of it. Whether it was a story that you or Simon had told him about your latest adventures as the world's most perfect couple or just him watching the two of you together. But, finally, he had decided that enough was enough… He needed to be honest with you and lay his cards out on the table. He had thought long and hard about what it was he wanted to say and so had arranged for the two of you to meet up for a coffee on Saturday. This wasn't a conversation that he wanted to have with you in the office.

He still had to labour through an afternoon of Simon gushing to the guys about how things were going with the two of you and up until now it had been fairly easy to drone it out.

"So you two finally did the deed huh?" Piped up a voice, grabbing Joel's attention.

Joel had known that you and Simon hadn't been intimate yet. You had confided in him about how you had never been with anyone and that you wanted to save yourself for the right guy. Obviously, you had decided that Simon was that guy.

"Fuck did we." Simon practically growled "Was so worth the wait… Girl's so hot… we-"

"Let's not discuss such personal matters at work, hey chaps?" Joel tried to sound calm but his stomach was twisting in knots.

The knowledge that you and Simon had been intimate was tearing him up inside. Had Eliza been wrong about your feelings for him? Had she lied? Either way, he wasn't sure what to do with the knowledge that you and Simon were now sleeping together.

"Come on boss…" Teased Rick, one of Joel's youngest employees "Just 'cus ya jealous."

"What?" Joel growled as he turned to face the younger man.

"Well, the guys all told me how you're sweet on Si's girl. It's not his fault you missed your shot."

Joel felt his anger start to boil over as he said "Keep it professional Rick or you'll be looking for new employment." Walking away then to cool down.

…

You were just clearing the dishes away whilst Simon wiped down the sides, always the gentleman. 8 months had shot by in the blink of an eye and it felt like he'd blended so perfectly into your home life. It was like the two of you had always done this. Things were so seamless.

"So Joel threatened to fire Rick today." He stated as he wiped his hands dry with a dishcloth.

"Really?" You asked and your brows shot up in surprise "Why?"

"We were talking about you and me and Rick kinda ribbed Joel a bit." Simon replied, shrugging.

"Ribbed him how?"

"We were just talking about how you and I had… well you know and Joel got pissed. Rick kinda teased him about how he's sweet on you and how he missed out on his chance with you."

"One, I'd rather you didn't discuss our sex life with my colleagues… Two, Joel's not sweet on me he's with Eliza and three… even if he was, that's a pretty dickish thing to do." You admonished and Simon chuckled as he replied.

"Joel is still very much sweet on you and he and Eliza broke up."

"What?" You were shocked to learn this information and hurt that Joel hadn't told you.

"Yeah, been like 6 or 7 months now… guys probably got blue balls." Simon chuckled as he tossed the dishcloth in his hands onto the counter.

You'd always talked about everything Joel and so to learn that he had broken things off with Eliza and he hadn't talked to you about it stung a little. Had things between you really become that strained? They hadn't been the same since you'd gone to his house to talk to him about how you felt. They certainly hadn't been since you had started dating Simon.

"You're not sweet on him are you?" Asked Simon, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Hmm?" You hummed as you looked at your boyfriend who was watching you closely, analysing every expression that crossed your face.

"Joel, you aren't sweet on him too are you?"

The colour drained from your face as your mouth moved to answer him but no words left your lips. The longer you took to respond, the more frustrated Simon grew.

"You are, aren't you?"

"Simon…"

"No, don't try and spin me any bullshit." He growled out and you flinched at his tone "Are you in love with Joel… Yes or no?"

"Yes… but-"

"I need to leave." Simon choked as he threw his hands up when you tried to reach for him "I can't be around you right now."

"Simon please…" You pleaded but he was having none of it.

He just grabbed his stuff and left.

Leaving you sobbing in his wake. \

…

You sat in the cafe you and Joel had arranged to meet at, your eyes red raw from crying all night and most of this morning. You were sipping on an overly sweet latte. Needing the sugar to try and boost your mood. Joel was already ten minutes late but that wasn't unusual for them man. No doubt he'd be stumbling through the cafe doors in a few moments, huffing and puffing whilst he rambled on about what it was that had delayed him.

Only after half an hour… he still wasn't there.

You were on your second sugary coffee and coming to the painful realisation that Joel had stood you up. Who gets stood up by their best friend? Well, it would seem that you do and you wondered if it was because of what Simon had told you yesterday. How Rick had teased Joel about missing out with you when he'd learned you'd lost your virginity to the man you'd been going steady with for almost 9 months. That thought made you go from sad to plain pissed.

Was he seriously going to stand you up because he was jealous that you had slept with Simon?

Finishing your coffee you stomped out the door and towards your car. You weren't going to let him get away with this. Not after everything you had been through in the last 12 hours.

You don't recall the drive to Joel's house but you feel your anger flare when you see his truck on his drive. You pull up behind him, get out of the car, then make a point of slamming the door in the hope that he'll hear you coming.

You were pounding on the door, not caring if you were attracting attention. You wanted answers and you wanted them now. An exhausted Joel opened the door and you felt anger flare at the thought that he'd stood you up because he'd slept it.

"Pip this isn't-"

"A good time?" You growled, "It never is Joel."

"Please, I'm sorry I stood you up but-"

"No, I'm going to speak." Venom dropped from your words as you poked his chest "Simon told me what happened yesterday and I just can't believe that you would stand me up because I slept with the man I had been dating for over half a year!"

"That's not… I didn't stand you up on purpose I-"

"You what? You overslept? Your latest conquest only just left?" You barged past him with a strength you didn't know you possessed as you started to look around the house.

"Pip-"

"Where is she… where is the reason you decided to stand me up the morning after Simon broke up with me." You choked as your hurt started to slip through the cracks.

"Simon dumped you?" Joel asked and you nodded "Why?"

"Because I'm in love with you Joel… and I-"

"Do you want to scream any louder?" Growled Joel's mother as she walked down the stairs with a bundle in her arms "You're lucky she's so milk drunk. Not even the apocalypse would wake her right now." She said as she handed Joel what you could now see was a newborn with a gorgeous caramel complexion.

"Oh, Pip sweetheart, so lovely to see you." Said Mrs Miller as she pulled your stunned body into an awkward hug "It's been a bit of a mad house for the past 12 hours." She chuckled as she walked over to Joel to give him a kiss on the cheek before pecking the baby's brow. "I'll let Joel catch you up, I need to get diapers and formula. Will be as quick as I can sweetheart."

"Thanks, Mum." He said, smiling at her as she waved at you all and left.

Finally leaving you and Joel alone with this tiny baby you had just learned about.

"You… You have a baby." It wasn't a question.

Joel nodded as he looked down at the tiny person in his arms, a sweet smile gracing his lips as he brought her brow to his lips.

"I have a baby." He confirmed and you let out a shaky breath as you continued to stare at her.

"Is she…?"

"Eliza's?" He finished for you and you nodded "Yeah." He replied as he walked towards his couch and carefully sat himself down, watching as you followed him and sat down beside him "She came by last night. Dumped her in my arms and said she was mine and that she wanted nothing to do with being a mother."

Your eyes snapped to his at this statement and found him looking at you with a tearful expression "Left me enough formula to last me till tonight. No cot, clothes, nothing."

"How could she just leave her?" You sobbed as you looked at the perfect little girl in his arms and Joel just shook his head.

"She said she didn't want to be a mum." He replied "After we broke up she moved back to Austin. Had no idea she was pregnant. Not even Gloria did… then last night she just turned up at my door with her."

"Oh, Joel."

"I'm not ready to be a dad am I?" He asked as he looked at you again, his expression indicating just how scared he was.

"You're going to be the best father to this little girl." You said as you cupped his cheek and moved his face so that he looked you in the eye "You aren't going to be alone in this." You promised him "I will be here whenever you need me to be… day or night I will be here."

Joel nodded. Knocking a few tears loose and you watched as they rolled down his slightly stubbled cheek.

"Thank you, Pip." He breathed, giving you a small smile before he looked down at his little girl again "Her name's Sarah." He said after a short pause and you smiled sweetly at her.

"Hi, Sarah." You said softly as you leaned in to look at her better "Well aren't you just perfect."

"Would you like to hold her?" He asked and you nodded eagerly before carefully taking her off of him and settling into the plush cushions at your back.

You gazed at her sleeping form for what felt like an age. Her perfect little button nose and long black lashes making you swooning.

"I'll let you off." You piped up after a while and Joel hummed he as looked at you in confusion "For standing me up… She's a pretty good excuse."

Joel chuckled as he rested his head on your shoulder, you both continuing to gaze at her.

"We'll get through this…" He said and you nodded.

"Together."

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[sissylittlefeather]

A House That Has Everything: Chapter 2

A/N: Chapter 2 of my new series! This one came to me when I saw these amazing AI photos on Instagram made by @blackvelvetep and @_chiara975ep. (Be sure to check out their pages on Instagram!) My fic brain went crazy and this storyline was born.

Set in Regency England, Mr. Presley is the gentleman who owns and resides in Graceland Manor. Annabelle Martin is his newest maid after her parents have died and left her an orphan. Can he resist his affection for her, despite the difference in their social class?

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, masturbation (male), imagining some sexy things

Word count: ~2.4k

Need to catch up? Masterlist HERE.

Mr. Presley sighs and turns from the window. Will the responsibility of this new life never end?

******

After two weeks in her new position, Annabelle has settled into a new normal at Graceland Manor. It's not one she particularly likes or enjoys, but it's a routine at least. She's finally learned what her responsibilities are and how to do all of them. She's also met everyone in the house and learned who is worth talking to and who isn't. The other maids are not. They're both young and experienced and spend most of their time making snide comments and whispering about her. The cook, Mrs. Hall, is her favorite person, so far. She has a warm, welcoming air about her that makes Annabelle feel at home even in the big house that has no other home-like feeling. She hasn't talked to her much, but she likes her best of all anyway. And the handsome footman that answered the door when she first arrived is the cook’s son. His name is Jimmy and he's been nothing but cordial, albeit maybe a little too friendly. Most everyone else is nice enough, but she doesn't have a real companion among the group.

One of Annabelle's jobs is tending the fires in every room each morning. This means she's up before dawn every day. She doesn't enjoy that part, but it's actually quite nice to move about the house while everyone else is still asleep. Her favorite room is the library, which doubles as Mr. Presley’s private study. She never has much time to spend in there, but she does take a few minutes occasionally to look around at the books, even glancing at his desk a couple of times. He's a mess. There are papers stacked and sticking out of piles everywhere. She's not sure why, but she finds this a little endearing, even if she has sworn to hate him.

About 3 weeks after her first day, Annabelle walks into the library purposefully, ready to light the fire and try to look at the books a little. She's startled when she realizes there is a candle burning and someone sitting at the desk. There's only one person it could possibly be, so she tries to back out of the room as quickly as she can, but she hits the doorframe and it makes a loud thud. He immediately turns and stands up and she gasps.

Mr. Presley has an imposing presence even when he's not angry, so he feels almost terrifying when he is. He glares at her and Annabelle is overwhelmed with the desire to melt into the carpet.

“Where have you been?! It's freezing in here.” She shakes her head and stumbles over her words.

“I-I I'm sorry-”

“There's no excuse.” His eyes are wild and red-rimmed like he's either been crying or hasn't slept or both and his hair looks like he's run his hand through it about a thousand times. Annabelle recognizes the look of distress and her fear turns to compassion.

“Did you… have you been in here all night?” She asks in a small voice. He's obviously disarmed by the fact that she hasn't just run away from him.

“What?”

“You look like… have you slept?” She chances a step towards him and his imposing presence seems to shrink a little.

“That is none of your business! Just light the fire and get out!” He spits at her and turns away. She walks over to the fire and tends to it quickly.

As she works at the fireplace, he turns back and watches her. There was a hint of something in her voice that he hasn't experienced from anyone other than the Mrs. Hall in a very long time. Could it have been kindness?

He softens a bit as he watches her at the fireplace. Her shoulders are delicate and graceful as she works and he has the thought again that she wasn't built for this kind of hard labor. He feels an insane desire to help her, to take the task of making the fire and do it for her, but that would be inappropriate on every level. Still, something about her makes him want to throw propriety out the window and care for her the way men do in stories about knights and ladies. He's lost in this reverie when she finishes and stands up, turning back to him.

Annabelle is shocked to find him watching her when she turns away from the fire. He moves quickly to look somewhere else, but for half a second she could've sworn his expression was gentle.

“Are you finished?” He hisses, not looking at her.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Get out. Be earlier tomorrow.” His attempt to put her in the right place in his mind comes out as unnecessary coldness.

“Yes, sir.” Annabelle whispers and goes to walk from the room. But at the door, she pauses and turns back.

“You could tell me… why you haven't slept… if you wanted. No one would listen even if I tried to tell them your secrets.” For a second, he meets her eyes and the warmth he finds there soothes an ache he didn't even know he had. And then he remembers himself.

“OUT.” He tries to yell, but falters the tiniest bit. She nods and leaves the room.

Falling into the nearest chair, Mr. Presley sighs deeply and pinches the bridge of his nose. She's right that he hasn't slept. He's been holed up in the study trying to make sense of some documents since last night. Somewhere around 3am, the frustration had turned to grief and he cried for an hour or so. He was making his way back to frustration when she came in.

Why had he responded to her kindness with such cruelty? He knows the answer but isn't ready to face the reality of it.

******

In the next room, Annabelle sits in front of the fireplace crying quietly into her apron. She's so lonely and tired of the harshness with which she's treated here. There's not even anyone she could tell about her struggles. She's alone.

And why had she tried to connect with him? Not only is he a gentleman, he's her master, and not a very nice one at that. But something about him and his emotional state touched her and she felt compelled to offer herself in some way. And for no discernible reason whatsoever, his rejection hurts worst of all.

She starts to cry big, heaving sobs, knowing they're audible but no longer caring. Let them get rid of her. Maybe she could leave this miserable place and let Mr. Presley light his own fires.

******

On his way to bed, Mr. Presley hears the unmistakable sound of a woman crying coming from the drawing room. He walks quietly to the door and peeks through the crack.

The new maid.

His heart shatters when he hears the depth of her despair as she sobs. She's probably crying because he was so hateful. He lightly puts his fingertips on the door to push it open and go to her. Then he stops. It takes everything inside him to turn from the door and leave her there crying.

******

When Annabelle gets back downstairs, the kitchen is bustling with activity. Mr. Presley is entertaining later that evening, so Mrs. Hall is in a tizzy getting everything ready. Most days she does just fine by herself since she's only cooking for one man upstairs and the help downstairs, but when he entertains, she wishes she had some help. Annabelle wanders through despondently and perches on a bench.

“Love, don't you have something else to do?” Mrs. Hall asks, sweat running down the side of her face.

“Not really. I've done all my morning work already.” Annabelle kicks the floor with the toe of her shoe. She's still having to work to keep from crying.

“Get over here and help me, then. I'm assuming you know how to peel and chop.”

“Yes ma'am. I did all the cooking when I lived with my… my parents.” Her voice catches in her throat and Mrs. Hall stops and actually looks at her with her red little nose and tear-stained face.

“Love, what's got you upset?” Mrs. Hall asks as Annabelle washes her hands and takes some potatoes to peel.

“Nothing, ma'am.”

“Call me Gladys, dear.” Annabelle shakes her head.

“Oh, I could never.” Mrs. Hall laughs.

“Even Mr. Presley calls me Gladys sometimes.” Annabelle looks up at her in shock. That's far more interesting than her troubles.

“May I ask why?”

“Sure you can. I practically raised that boy. His mother passed trying to birth his twin and I had Daniel who was nearly the same age. Colonel Presley was lost for a good while after the mistress died and he paid very little attention to his son. The nanny they'd hired wasn't a very nice woman and Elvis- I mean Mr. Presley- used to spend most of his time hiding from her down here with me. He played with my boys and I taught him to cook and play the pianoforte. He's almost like a son to me, despite the difference in station.” Annabelle’s eyes widen with Mrs. Hall’s words. She tries to imagine a young Mr. Presley running through the kitchen, learning to cook and playing with servant boys. But more than the image of him as a child, it's the look that Mrs. Hall has when she talks about him that surprises her. It's a look of deep respect and love. She wonders how long it's been since Mrs. Hall has spoken with him. Maybe he has changed. “Now why don't you tell me what's got you so troubled.”

Annabelle looks down at the potato she's peeling and decides that she needs someone more than she needs to keep her own secrets.

“It's funny you mention Mr. Presley.”

“Why, love?” Annabelle sighs.

“He's the reason I was upset. Well, not the whole reason, but kind of the last thing I could handle. No one here has been very kind to me, him least of all.” Mrs. Hall nods and smiles.

“Hm. He likes you.” Annabelle looks at her with her face scrunched in shock.

“No, he does not. I assure you.”

“He likes you and he knows he shouldn't. He's trying to keep you at arm’s length.” Annabelle shakes her head.

“How do you know? Maybe he hates me?”

“If he hated you he wouldn't speak to you at all. I know my boy. He likes you.”

“No, I'm sure that's not it.” Annabelle continues peeling potatoes in silence, but her heart is pounding. Why does the prospect of Mr. Presley liking her make her knees weak?

******

That evening, Mr. Presley has several friends over for dinner. They eat and play cards and have cigars and brandy and recount their most recent adventures in London. His closest friend, Mr. Jasper Davies, asks what everyone else is wondering.

“When will you be married, then?” They're not eager to lose the company of their bachelor friend, but they know the expectation now that he's the master of a great house.

“I have no designs on marriage anytime soon.” Mr. Presley answers, knowing this won't be realistic for very long. He'll have to marry sooner rather than later. Still, he's never found any particular young lady of his station that he liked well enough to marry. There had been one girl, an actress, that he had loved quite a bit before he joined the army, but she was not a viable partner for him. None of the ladies of the county interested him and he found most of them to be rather one-dimensional and boring.

The conversation about marriage continues, but Mr. Presley has a hard time focusing. For some reason, the new maid enters his mind. He thinks about her slender white hands, too delicate for the work she does. And the way her uniform follows her curves down to her waist and then hides the rest. What he wouldn't give to be able to see her legs and feet unobstructed. He lets his imagination go even further and suddenly a picture of her naked and sprawled on his bed appears. His cock twitches in his pants and he has to adjust and clear his throat to bring himself back to reality. That's a thought he cannot have, especially not in present company.

Eventually, everyone retires to one of the many bedrooms in the house. Mr. Presley stops briefly in the library with the vague hope that the maid might be there. Of course she's not, but the brandy he's had makes his logic a little faulty. He makes it back to his bedroom where his valet undresses him and puts him in bed.

It's not long before he realizes he's staring at his fireplace, imagining the maid on her knees in front of it. This image is quickly replaced by an image of her on her knees in front of him. He curses himself for the inappropriate images in his head and the way his dick hardens at the thought of her, but he can't stop his hand from finding himself under his nightshirt. She's so pretty and kind and graceful and oh, God, he'd give anything to see her and feel her pressed up against him as they tumble naked together in the bedclothes.

He moans softly as his hand pumps his cock, sliding his foreskin back and forth, his thumb sweeping over the tip to collect the beads of precum as they gather. His hips buck into his palm and he strokes himself harder and faster. He tries to focus again on the actress that he normally thought of when he did this, but he can't. There is only the maid. The maid with her hands on him, with her mouth on him, with her thighs on either side of his hips as she sinks down onto him, with her lips parted and eyes closed as she reaches the peak of ecstasy and cries out his name. With that, he whimpers as he cums all over his hand, his cock throbbing and pulsing and leaking until his release has fully washed over him. He lays in his bed sweating and trying to catch his breath. The picture of her in his mind is so clear. He opens his mouth to whisper, but nothing comes out.

He doesn't even know her name.

******

Until next time...

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

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[pygmi-cygni]

envy - jake lockley

envy - jealousy of somebody's success and a desire to have it for yourself.

cw: smut, feelings, body worship, jake is a little emotionally stunted, he learns to chillout a bit, nothing really kinky.

a/n: I know you guys were expecting some dom angry jake or something but i just want to kiss him tbh.

It had been a blissful few weeks. Khonshu had gone under for a while, meaning the boys had a long stretch of rest and relaxation. Marc had taken full advantage; slept almost every hour he fronted, honestly. You had some good snuggles on the couch together before bed. Steven was picking up a hobby of painting, and you loved to sit with him at the kitchen table and watch his creations.

Your relationship was glowing. There hadn't ever been such a long time that you could just be together, without worrying about Khonshu or anybody else.

Although, you couldn't help but feel something was wrong. Jake had always been the quietest alter, but he made sure to pop in at least once and say hello or dive for a kiss. He'd leave notes on the fridge or send flowers to your work.

Recently he'd been nearly silent. You could hear him in the morning; his footsteps were by far the heaviest, and he always hummed Sinatra while he brewed the coffee. But as soon as you'd go over to say good morning, Marc would blink back at you.

You hadn't said anything the first few days. Maybe he's catching up on sleep. But after a week, you'd started to feel hurt. it wasn't just his absence.

He looked at you differently. His eyes were cloudy and he didn't make eye contact. His jaw was clenched tightly. He looked...mad?

Jake hardly ever ignored you when he was upset. He was a little conflicted but he'd always apologize, showering you with affection.

The thought somersaulted in your head while you stood by the sink. Your cup of coffee had gone cold as you thought. Had you said something? Did you forget an important day? None of the valid reasons you could think of applied.

"You alright, dear?"

Steven's gentle question broke your reverie. A wistful smile flitted across your face.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, thanks, Steven," you nodded, kissing him on the cheek. "Just thinking."

He rubbed your shoulder and nodded towards the television. "Marc's been wanting to watch a new show, you wanna join."

"Is that even a question?"

Laughing, you both curled up on the sofa, an old quilt tucked under your feet. It was a crime show, of course, but even with the gruesome details you found yourself drifting off, wrapped in warmth in Steven's lap.

Some time later, you woke to a jostling. Rubbing crust from your eyes, you pulled the blanket tighter and tried to find Steven. He was halfway off the couch, one leg still trapped under you.

"Why you leaving?" You mumbled pitifully, reaching out. He paused, before lifting his leg and stepping away.

"'M not Steven."

"Jake!" you sat up, suddenly awake. "Baby, where've you-"

"I'm gonna go to bed. He'll be back in the morning." He leaned forward and brushed the barest kiss to your hair, before stalking off.

You felt like you'd just been slapped. In your eight months with the boys, Jake was by far the most intimate, craving touch whenever possible. He'd cry if you didn't kiss him before work. And all of a sudden, he balked at a couch snuggle?

What?

The blanket trailed behind you, slithering over the cold floorboards as you padded after him.

He'd already shucked Steven's jeans and pulled the covers up to his chin, facing the wall.

You knew better than that. Jake's shoulders tensed when the mattress dipped. Shifting close, you tucked your hands around his waist and locked your legs around his hips.

He was stiff as a board, hands firmly under his pillow. You huffed, nudging your nose into his neck. He twitched at the ticklish feeling and you tried again, flicking your tongue out. Jake grunted and turned over, nose-to-nose with you.

"Hey," you whispered. His eyes glittered dark in the low light. You so badly wanted him to lean forward and brush your lips with his, but he stayed a few inches away.

"Steven and Marc are asleep," he whispered back. "You can see them later."

"I don't want them."

Something about your tone, soft and clingy, made his brow furrow. There was that look again; frustrated and cold. You leaned in to hide the cracking of your hurt.

He pulled away. You whined quietly, eyes welling. Jake's chest burned when he saw your tears, but he kept silent.

"Are...are you mad at me?" he'd never heard your voice so shattered. It cleaved a hole right through his heart. Words got stuck in his throat. No, he wasn't mad. How could he be mad? You did so much for them, all of them. Maybe more for Marc and Steven, but...

"Mariposa..." he lifted a hand to your cheek. You leaned in, fisting your hands at his chest. Jake reluctantly held you back, tucking his chin over your head. You burrowed as tight as possible, squeezing against him in a way that made his heart hurt.

"Why did you leave?"

The question met his ears and he sighed. The complicated slurry of emotions hung heavy in his chest. Taking a laborious breath, he shrugged.

"Didn't want to interrupt the show."

"No. Why did you leave?" You pulled away, brow set. He looked away, exposed. That raw nerve that entangled his heart was throbbing with alarm. He was too open, too vulnerable. Both of his headmates were out, cutting off two of the exits.

A soft rub to his chest. He'd been hyperventilating. Your eyes were wide and worried.

"Jake?"

It was too much. He wanted to get away. This was too hard to explain. It wasn't supposed to be this difficult, why did you have to ask? Your curiosity was adorable but it disrupted his brooding intentions.

The bedroom began to fall away as a tight thrumming of his anxiety took over.

He shuddered in a breath, raking a hand over his face.

"I..." The rest of the sentence was gluey on this throat. He coughed and tried again. "I didn't want to interrupt...you."

"Interrupt? What do you mean?" You were still stroking his shoulder gently. Tears threatened to fall. this was going so badly.

"You. And...them."

Another slap to the face. You gaped at him, more in hurt than in shock. "Us? You mean - Jake, what the hell are you talking about? You're not interrupting anything-"

"Leave it, amor, forget I said anything," he muttered, cowering behind his walls again. You wrenched his head to yours in frustration.

"No, Jake Lockley, I will not forget it." Your eyes softened. "Why do you feel like that?"

"It's not-"

"It is important, mister."

Feeling like a child, Jake shuffled to face you and harrumphed.

"It...it seemed like you were in the middle of something," he mumbled, neck heating. Frowning, you shook your head.

"So? You're not banned from participating. I'd love to watch something with you."

You weren't getting it. This was why Steven did all the talking. Frustration churned in his chest. He just wanted to sleep and shoulder this off to Marc. You liked him better anyway.

"Just stop," he hissed, backing away, "you have your things with them, go enjoy that. You don't need me."

You were dumbfounded. What?

"Don't need y- Jake, what the hell?"

His claws were out, shielding the raw emotion pulsing in his heart. Just stop.

"You like them better, si? I know you want Marc, just let me sleep and he'll be-"

You yanked his head to yours, scowling at his bitter tone. A mix of torrential sorrow and dumbfounded irritation tore at your ribs.

"Jake Lockley," you seethed, "you've said that once and I won't settle for a second time. You are not nothing."

He met your anger with his, but a shining film of tears diluted the rage. "No," he whispered.

"I love you too, idiot," you said indignantly, tugging his hair. he bashfully ducked his head, wanting to hide the watery tears bubbling up.

"You know that, right?"

He didn't move.

"Jake."

You carefully lifted his chin, peering into his glistening eyes. A tiny, imperceptible whimper.

"Oh, honey."

He collapsed into your hug as you stroked his back, murmuring soothing reassurances as he choked back a sob. He'd never felt so exposed. The delicate flesh of his chest was flayed open, revealing the timidly thumping cavern of his heart. Red and tender, too soft to cope with the dangers of out there. it felt like you'd reached in and grabbed it, cradling it like the sun. Jake curled into himself, head dropping onto your chest.

"You- you just seem so right with them an' I didn't know if you actually needed me or if I was just there an', an-"

You pulled him to your chest, shushing the sobs that wracked his frame. Internally, you were a mess. He'd never shown this much of himself. How long had he been thinking this way? Thinking you didn't love him as much?

"Of course I want you," you said, shocked. "Of course, love, you're all important to me. Equally," you said firmly. Jake choked into your shirt and you rocked, side to side.

"Why would you think that?" you asked gently when he'd gotten his breathing back to normal.

He avoided your gaze, hot shame curdling his stomach. This wasn't how he expected this to go. He wanted you to brush him off, give him the predictable air of nothing. Clean apathy was easier to live in.

Jake felt like a baby deer, stumbling around in the throes of love, trying to get his feet back under him. This was new. this was different, he wasn't used to being so unsteady. He was the strong one, the big bad Jake that had everything under control-

"It's okay," you whispered, kissing his cheek, "I understand. Just let it out for a bit."

His hands curled at your hips, pulling you tighter as he hid in your neck.

Your shirt was soaked when you pulled away. He still wouldn't look at you, but you could feel his grip tighten on your wrists. Don't go.

Still kissing his face, you gently rucked up his shirt and stroked his chest. Jake sniffled and held you tighter, mouth connecting messily with your neck. The wet warmth of his tears mixed tenderly with his soft lips.

Carefully, like calming a spooked animal, you kissed down his jaw, laving your tongue on his neck and shoulders. Jake stuttered, unsure of how to handle the raw emotion. This was his thing. He did that, not the other way round. You kissed down his sternum, cradling his hands in yours.

"Pretty," you whispered into his warm skin. "have I told you how pretty you are?"

His chest was seized with emotion so thick he could barely breathe. 'I-I look the same as the others," he gritted out, trying to salvage his exterior. A petulant mewl when you sucked a bruise above his heart.

"I know, but you're lovely in your own way." You hovered over the mark, blowing gently and smiling at the prickling goosebumps. Jake didn't know up from down as you continued your slow descent. The heady mix of lust and adoration was making his head fuzzy.

The apartment fell away while you held him. He had started crying again; a silent barrage of warm tears trickling down his cheeks. You licked up the salt, pressing the taste of his yearning onto his tongue. Jake moaned weakly into your mouth, pawing at your shirt.

"Patient," you whispered, returning to your task.

He hiccupped and raked a hand through your hair. The thumping of his heart in your hands was harder now, glistening with newfound love. You continued to wrap him in a protective cape of encouragement, coaxing his shoulders to relax.

You stopped above his waistband, moving to straddle his lap. "Follow my lead," you instructed gently, looking into the dark well of his gaze. Jake Lockley was at a loss for words as you rocked against him, tucking is head in your neck.

The pure intimacy was stifling. He couldn't breathe around the weight of the affection you carried for him. Something had burrowed into the pores of his skin, tearing down the stone barricades around his mind.

The exposure didn't feel so bad. You were right there next to him, keeping his soft frailty from crumbling.

"You've got such nice eyes," you murmured, your own sweet gaze shining with kindness. Sniffling another wave of tears as you kissed his eyelids, Jake felt another wave of emotion.

The comments continued, praising his hair, his mouth, his skin, his strength. Each word rebuilt a piece of his armor.

Softer, better. Like flexible cotton rather than strangling iron. Somehow it felt stronger. Like he was soaring above the Earth, unstoppable.

"you're strong, Jake," you licked into his mouth, "you do such a good job with Steven, keeping him safe."

Alto. no, no, no he couldn't no this. too close to his sensitive middle. caught off guard, he reflexively pulled away, hackles raised. You crept higher on his lap, refusing to let him hide.

"marc knows too, sees how patient you are when he's mad." Another warm kiss and Jake was a mess.

His heart had been pounded to a bloody pulp with every praise, shuddering and pulsing weakly on the floor. your hands were stained, but you still held him lovingly. How did- how did you-

Another shuddering breath, and you blessed him with a reprieve from the attention. Your coaxing, tender touches never stopped, still petting the tension from his bones.

Jake was at the top of the tower, staring down into the abyss of this. This new thing; the drowning mass of you.

jump.

jump, he could do it. just dive in.

Your eyes met his again. "te amo."

the wind whistled by his ears. it's okay, it's okay, he'd-

he landed safely in your embrace, diving forwards to devour your mouth with his. This time you didn't push him away, but pulled him on top of you, running your hands over his sides. He desperately grabbed at your hips, wanting to mold into you. to grow into one body, every cell touching and twining until nothing could pull you apart.

"It's okay, hey," you cooed, helping him burrow into your chest. The warmth of your breasts surrounded his face. This was familiar, he could do this.

A shuddering sigh drifted musically through the room as he kissed and sucked, hoping to drive you even close to the pleasure you'd brought him.

His kisses were needy, harsh and desperate. thank you, they said. thank you thank you thank you.

Gently, softly, he licked down into your folds, pulling aside your panties. The soft tang of your sex made his heart flutter. Your hand was fisted in his hair, tugging and raking delicious rows of arousal into his core. Rivers of lust poured from every inch of him, fueled by the intensity of your affection.

"Good," he moaned into your folds, licking up your slick, "g-good God please-"

You trilled a pleased sigh, thighs tightening around his ears. Jake was engulfed in you; your sent, your softness, your everything. He didn't want to leave. How could he? The syrupy trap of your honeyed attraction had ensnared his heart and wasn't letting go.

"I love you," you panted at your climax, "Iloveyousomuch oh-"

Jake groaned when your wetness met his tongue again, drinking from your well like a parched soldier.

He climbed up your body, diving back into your mouth. You shuddered and wrapped around him, hand traveling to stroke slowly at his hardness. Whining softly, he positioned you to sit on top.

Another powerful punch of lust knocked the air from his lungs as you slipped him inside, face contorting with pleasure. Pride swelled, knowing he could do that to you. Him, not Marc or Steven or anybody else. You moaned and writhed for him.

Your kiss-swolled lips were slack as you rolled your hips, hands planted firmly on his chest. Jake brushed the hair from your face, gazing darkly into your hazy eyes.

"Mariposa," he breathed, capturing your lips in his. The shift made him slide deeper, stroking a heavenly spot deep inside. You cried out against his mouth and he swallowed the sound greedily, rocking harder and harder.

"Need," he moaned, "need you to f-feel good, baby, need ah-"

You clenched around him, hands digging into his back. The fluttering, trembling warmth that surrounded him was intoxicating. Jake slumped against the headboard, bucking his hips as you draped over him. Your warm, slick bodies rolled together, riding waves and waves of pleasure.

Not an inch between you wasn't completely smothered by the other. Jake felt hot arousal peaking in his core, sending a rush of adrenaline through his shaking muscles.

"Amor," he heaved, "amor, oh, please cum, please please I need you to cum," his voice pitched higher. You whimpered, shuddering as his thick girth stroked your walls perfectly, caressing every spot inside. He pulled you tighter, clutching you to his chest.

The sheets were twisted tight around your limbs, rucking and rutting harder and faster into each other. A sinful moan ripped your throat as you bounced on him, soft flesh glowing with the orgasmic halo. A final mewl and you were finished, pulsing hot and tight around him.

Jake bucked once more and thrust hard, shooting his climax as deep as possible. Your velvety folds greedily flared around him, drinking in his spend as you shuddered and keened. Before he'd even finished, he'd tucked you under him, greedily pressing his mouth against your sweaty neck.

I love you, he slurred, I love you so much, baby.

Your fingers limply entertwined with his, finally at peace.

@krakenkitty @ominoose @bulletgoth @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @justsomeonecalledemma @iolaussharpe-24 @rosegnome @twwcs @heeheehoohoofictimr @steven-grants-world @ael-xander @to-be-a-sunshine taglist, comment to join!

[sambuckyhalloweenbingo]

The SamBucky Halloween Bingo 2024

Hey! It's almost the spooky season, and as such, it's time for the SamBucky Halloween Bingo! From October 1st to November 7th, we will be reblogging and sharing the work you guys create here on our blog.

You can post fanfiction, art, fic rec lists, comments, moodboards, podfics, edits, etc. It’ll be a low-stakes event. No need to sign up. Just remember to tag @sambuckyhalloweenbingo in your post for each fill, and we will be tracking #sbhalloween2024 for reblogs.

If you are posting on AO3, please add it to the SamBucky Halloween Bingo 2024 Collection.

The Bingo Card:

FAQ

What is this?

It’s a SamBucky bingo event.

Is there any pressure?

No pressure at all. Fill one prompt. Fill all the prompts on every bingo card. Do however many you please.

Can I fill more than one prompt with one piece of art/one fic?

Yes! You can fill one prompt with one piece of art or fic. You can try to fill all nine prompts on the card at once with one piece of art or fic. If you can fill every single prompt from every single bingo card in one fill, that’d be wild but it’s okay by the rules. You can do any number in between.

Are there any prizes for making anything for this event?

Just the satisfaction that you made something cool.

Is it just SamBucky?

Yes please, just SamBucky. There can be side ships, but the main ship should be SamBucky.

How long will this event run?

It will run from October 1st and run until November 7th.

I heard there are badges I can use for each fill?

There are! Here they are:

RULES AND GUIDELINES

What are the guidelines for the bingo?

I will be borrowing some of this from the MYSU Valentine’s Day Bingo 2022 Guidelines, since they were fantastic.

For Everyone:

1. Remember to tag @sambuckyhalloweenbingo in the post as well as #sbhalloween2024.

2. Please also tag the prompt you’re filling (for instance, if the square is “Costume”, use “#costume” as one of your tags when posting about it on Tumblr).

3. If you’re uploading to AO3, please:

a ) Say somewhere which prompt you’re filling.

b ) Add it to the SamBucky Halloween Bingo 2024 Collection (SamBucky_Halloween_Bingo_2024).

For Artists:

1. Create at least one piece of new art that can’t have been posted anywhere else before this.

2. All visual art forms are welcome:

a ) Gifsets or photosets, at least 3 gifs or photos.

b ) Aesthetic boards or moodboards, at least 4 images each.

c ) Drawing/painting, that is not a sketch.

d) Fan video.

e) Graphics edit.

For Authors:

1. At least 500 words.

2. Posted on Tumblr or AO3.

3. Can be part of a series, but should work as a standalone.

For Podficcers:

1. The podfic should at least be 5 minutes long.

2. It should be posted on either Tumblr or AO3.

3. The podfic can be of a fic made for the event, a fic not made for the event while still adhering to the prompt, or a notfic.

For Fic Rec Lists:

1. You must have at least three fics or podfics on the rec list.

2. Make sure to give brief descriptions of the fics or podfics as well as their rating and wordcount.

For Commenters:

1. Any amount of comment counts, from a heart emoji (“❤️”) to an essay.

2. We would rather this be about what makes you happy and joyful about reading than any scathing critiques.

Things to be mindful of when creating:

For Sam

Avoid framing Sam only as a caretaker or emotional support for Bucky. Be mindful of Sam acting angry or aggressive in an out-of-character way and falling into the angry/sassy Black man trope (check out the MCU source material to help with character traits).

Avoid decentering Sam as a main character and refrain from focusing entirely on Bucky.

In art: avoid whitewashing Sam’s skin and research drawing Black characters.

General disclaimer: Race affects every aspect of his life, including interacting with police/government and the white structures of the world when it comes to performing his duties as Cap and simply being a Black man that lives in the U.S.

For Bucky

Avoid phrasing “flesh/normal/human hand” to refer to the contrast between his prosthetic arm and his right arm. The phrasing is ableist. You can simply refer to his prosthesis when relevant, otherwise use “right/left arm/hand”.

For more information, please check out this document suggested by @ninesdb on how to write Bucky as an amputee. @ninesdb is also open to questions if you have any queries not answered by the google doc.

Specific Tags:

Avoid tags in AO3 like “Sam Wilson is a Gift”, “Sam Wilson is a Saint”, and “Bucky Needs a Hug”.

Have fun and we look forward to your Halloween Bingo fics!

[mrstellmeafuckingsecret]

walburga and sirius.

(i threw this together instead of sleeping/studying.)

when walburga is thirteen she has thought of her first born's name and when it is improbable for her to conceive she wants to rip out her skin. she takes every potion under the sky and all but imperio-s her husband.

when her womb grows she cant bare hiding it, she wants everyone everyone everyone to know how precious precious precious the child growing inside her was and she doesnt care what people say and when she holds sirius for the first time she thinks his fate is the stars and he shines brighter than them all when she nurses him she says every sweet thing she never heard and when he's ill for the first time she forgets her name and how to breathe

when he cries she screams and silencio-s him. it's only because it hurts her to see her baby upset.

walburga loves sirius so much she hates him , she sees herself in sirius and she nurtures it , she sees her father in sirius and pushes him away , sirius is hers and she is sirius' , sirius knows her better than anyone (orion is afraid of her and he should be , regulus is young & too much like his father , alphard is a pest , she has to keep too many appearances up with cygnus), sirius is perfect perfect perfect she favors him shamelessly he is cunning and charming and witty and brave and ambitious and good looking he is everything everything everything a man should be and she forgets her husband for her son so she can feel some semblance of companionship in her life

sirius doesnt rebel.

he doesnt he doesnt he doesnt so why is he? he is good and he shit-talks people who deserve it so why why why is he yelling at walburga that morning no no no this . this is her baby this is her star the brightest the brightest the brigh why does he scream like she does and walk away the same way he's not like her he is better he is supposed to surpass her surpass them al .

she tries to help him . she's gentle , she never cuts too deep she always makes sure he's mobile she makes sure he knows how much it hurts her because she's not a bad mother she is good she is exceptionally good and lenient and gentle and cygnus thinks she's stupid but what does he know? andromeda is having an affair, he should focus on his own children.

but sirius sirius sirius he goes to hogwarts and she feels as if her soul has been ripped in two she feels she feels she feels so much that she doesnt see anyone for days

maybe she's too harsh but she loves him she loves him so much she doesn't even scar him when he comes home no matter how much orion anyone says he deserves it because her baby's home he's home he's

when she leaves again orion says she has regulus too and she tells him she knows but he isnt sirius

her son stops visiting and she misses him every christmas and birthday and thanksgiving and easter and new year's and

when sirius angry, he screams and walburga screams louder still because why is he angry? what did she do wrong? nothing, she thinks, nothing. hogwarts has made sirius small, his filthy friends have tainted sirius and she wishes she could chain him to the foot of her bed so he knows how much he means to her.

sirius mentions something about andromeda not being so bad and walburga wants to kill cygnus

he grows taller than her, her voice grows deeper and louder and walburga feels threatened when he yells, now, and she cant she cant she cant because that's her baby.

he was in her. he was in her. he was her.

he's starting to look like her father. she strikes him for it. why was he torturing her?

she's going mad, and it's not . it can't be because of sirius.

she clings closer to regulus when sirius stops appearing for holidays. she grips his arm too tight and she fixes his posture with more venom but it's only because sirius was born perfect . walburga never did have to teach him , did she?

when sirius is back for fourth year she is scared and angry and she tells him off and she tells him everything he does wrong and he looks at her like he hates her

walburga doesn't know what she's doing till sirius is screaming . mom mom mom im sorry im sorry im sor

she's not bad. she's not evil. sirius is simply misguided. (alphard said he liked him, that once. maybe he had a talk with him. maybe she should kill alphard for taking her boy away.)

after hogwarts, she will fix him again and he will be hers and she will be his

sirius comes home from christmas in his fifth year.

walburga never wants to let him go. sirius never wants to, either.

that summer break, he leaves.

he doesn't return.

she screams till her mouth is of blood and she curses each healer who tells her to calm down

how can she, when sirius isnt here and he never will be ever ever again

.

she clings to regulus, he's not in his room anymore

she looks to her husband and he's not there anymore

she's bitter and mad and no one visits her anymore

she is full of bitterness . she tells every portrait and every bird. she tells kreacher. when sirius appears in her dressing room mirror she tells him she hates him for what he did to her

blood traitor. had she not sent him to that bloody school, had he never interacted with those plebs, he would be hers. and she would be someone's. (for once.)

[yesbutmakeitgay]

No One Breaks My Heart Like You

GIF by dailyflicks

Carol Danvers x Reader

We’ve Loved A Thousand Lives

Same beginning, different story every time.

Part 7.5 | (Part 7)

Angst, Injuries, Divorce.

A/N: Best of luck to all of us...

Beta'd by @cordeliasdarling 💜

Word count: 6.7k

Masterlist | This collection | AO3

It’s been weeks since your disastrous break up with Carol, and she has spent every moment of that time trying to reach you unsuccessfully. She can’t track your devices, and you won’t answer any of her calls on your phone or at work.

In a deep moment of defeat, she decides to contact Fury, "Are you missing any agents?" she asks him suspiciously.

Fury doesn’t show any emotion, "Are you asking me if I've misplaced a whole person lately?"

Carol is unsure how to phrase her question without admitting to breaking the rules, "Have you?"

"There is an agent who hasn't come in for a while, is that what you're referring to?"

"Perhaps," The Captain gestures with her arms, "she's about this tall, great at her job, gorgeous."

"Carol, did you lose your wife?" he deadpans.

"My—what?" She tries to play it cool as nerves take over her entire body.

"Oh, come on, I’m not a fool, and you're not that sneaky."

"I have no idea what you're talking about!"

Fury still seems completely unbothered, "She’s always with you when she's off work, you take your vacation at the exact same time, and there's a picture of her in your house."

"It's not a picture of her, it's a picture of us," Carol mumbles, avoiding eye contact.

"Whatever, I already know."

"So, you're not gonna tell me off?"

"She doesn't work for you, it's okay."

Carol shoots him an angry look, "Why didn’t you ever say anything?"

"I figured I'd let you keep it up for as long as possible."

"You could have saved me a divorce!" That certainly catches Fury’s attention.

"Wait, what?"

She shows him two wedding bands, "I have both of these, I’m only supposed to have one!"

"That bad? What did you do?"

"Why do you assume it was my fault?"

"You're the one holding the rings."

Carol puts the bands on the table and responds in an aggressive tone, "She said I don't have enough time for her, which, did she not know she was marrying the single Avenger in charge of protecting the entire universe?"

He squints his eye, "What did she say exactly?"

"Something about my availability to everyone else."

"Did she give you a whole explanation and that's all you got from it?"

Carol remains silent, trying to remember your last conversation, "That's not the point, help me!"

"What do you want me to do?" he responds bluntly.

"I don’t know, page her? Say it's an emergency."

Fury sighs and looks at her with sympathy, "For you, I will try, but you should know that once she's off the grid, she's impossible to track down."

"That's gotta be an exaggeration."

"Like you just said, she's great at her job," he pauses, "my best spy doing desk work, that must have been a tough choice for her, I wonder why she did that," his tone is taunting, making Carol’s features turn to guilt, "I would hope that whoever pushed her to make that decision made up for it by spending lots of quality time with her," he suggests not so subtly.

"That's bullshit, if I had known we didn't need to hide from you—" Carol is interrupted by an alarm going off in Fury’s office.

"Hold that thought, I have to go. I will page her, but I'll stop at five attempts, if you don't hear from me, that's because I didn't hear from her."

He hangs up, and Carol is left alone once again.

A few days later, Carol arrives unannounced to New Asgard, she confidently makes her way to The King’s office and demands, "Take a walk with me."

Valkyrie’s eyes reluctantly travel away from her work to look at Carol, "You think you can just show up and ask for whatever you want? I am a King, I have responsibilities." It is clear in Valkyrie’s voice that she is still not on the best terms with her.

Carol completely disregards Val’s displeasure in favor of getting what she wants, "Like what?" she challenges.

Valkyrie looks around trying to produce a response and coming up empty, "…A walk then."

They take a stroll around the palace, mostly in silence, Val knows Carol just wanted an excuse to look for you in every corner of her Kingdom. After rounding the entire building, they return to The King's office.

"You're missing a ship," Carol points out as they enter.

"I know exactly where all my belongings are, do you?"

"She doesn't belong to me," The Captain murmurs.

Valkyrie swiftly sits on her chair and crosses her legs, "But you learned that the hard way."

"Can you just tell me where she is?"

"Why? So you can piss her off again?" Val bites.

"You have no idea what happened." Carol’s eyes bore into Valkyrie’s, but The King isn’t fazed by the action.

"I have no idea where she is," Valkyrie asserts smugly, "as your friend, let me just tell you, sometimes you can be really stupid. I say it with love," The Captain huffs at the hypocrisy, "and she's not here, at least not anymore."

Carol feels her heartbeat race, "But she was?"

"She stayed for a few days after I picked her up, didn't tell me where she went." The king's assistant knocks on the open door to announce their presence, Valkyrie nods to them and directs herself to Carol, "You should go."

Carol leaves the palace, but decides to stay in New Asgard for a bit, having nowhere else to go.

After a few hours of mindlessly roaming the town, Carol gets a call, "Fury, did you find her?" she answers hurriedly.

"There's been a strange object hovering Earth, can you check it out, please?"

"On it," she accepts, thinking it’ll be a good distraction. She flies to the coordinates and finds a spaceship.

Captain Marvel enters the familiar ship carefully, she points her lit up fist in a general forward direction as she scans every inch of the vessel with her eyes.

She feels someone jump down and land behind her, "What took you so long?" she immediately turns around startled, her mouth slightly agape with surprise, "Did anyone see you come in?" you mock, making her features flatten.

"Very funny," she deadpans, "how long have you been here?"

"Since I left New Asgard."

Her brows furl, "You’ve been here for four weeks?" you simply shrug in response, looking anywhere but at her, "Does Val know you have her ship?"

"Obviously, I wasn't about to steal from The King."

"How come nobody knows where you are?"

"I’m a trained spy, remember? And a damn good one," She walks in, putting her fist and guard down as she relaxes into her surroundings. "Fury called you." It's not a question.   "He thought you were a threat."

"I had to unveil the ship, I was getting bored up here."

"How was I supposed to know you were hiding somewhere outside the Earth's atmosphere?"

You eye her daringly, "You don't recognize the coordinates?" she stares at you in confusion, "Look down, Captain."

She peeks out a window and realizes what you mean, "It’s our home," she barely whispers.

You nod, "When was the last time you went home?"

Your words strike a nerve within her, "Don’t try to guilt trip me, what I do is important," she says between gritted teeth.

You didn't even mean it like that, but her aggressiveness has always been contagious, "Shut the fuck up, Danvers!"

"Hey!" she warns, "I get that you're angry, I get that I hurt you, but you cannot speak to me like that." She takes an offensive stance.

You cross your arms and give her a challenging look, "Why not?"

"Because we have a relationship based on respect."

Her response makes you loudly scoff in disbelief, "Respect? Since when? Since you visit your convenience husband more than you visit me? Since you spend 99% of your time buried in your work somewhere in the middle of space? Since you don't even have the decency to tell me you're coming to Earth to see some coworker's family?"

"They are my friends!" she objects.

"And I am your wife," you retaliate.

Carol drops the power trip, "You are?" she hesitates.   You feel all your confidence disappear, "I hardly think what I did counts as a real divorce."

"But, you want one?" Her voice only grows smaller.

"I don't know, it's not like I wanted to leave you."

She can’t believe she used this reunion to start a fight with you again, "I’m sorry, I don't know what's been happening to me." She gently hugs herself.

"You bit off more than you could chew." You follow her example and compose yourself, your gaze fixated on a wall.

"I promise to be better, what if we don't have to sneak around anymore, what if we could just be together in public? Would that make a difference?"

You respond by giving her a silent look, pleading with her to not toy with your heart anymore.

She approaches you and tries to hold your hand, "Angel."

"What are you doing?" You immediately back away from her touch.

She stops her movements, "I thought that's where this was going."

"It certainly is not."

She hides her face in her palms in shame, "I’m sorry, I’m just gonna go, it's fine, we're fine—"

"We're not fine," you interrupt.

"Right, whatever, bye." She exits with no destination in mind and simply remains floating in space at the mercy of the stars.

Carol has never felt like such a failure before, not when she harshly yelled at Kamala prior to being properly introduced, nor when she couldn't reach Monica, resulting in her being stuck in another universe. Even when she fails, she always knows exactly what she needs to do to fix everything, except for this, except for you.

You decide to turn your brain off and get some sleep, you think you might have to return Valkyrie's ship after this fiasco, but that's a problem for tomorrow.

A while later, Carol’s comms ring, and she picks up out of habit, still zoned out.

"Carol—" a small, quivering voice calls out through the device, followed by heavy pants, it sounds completely terrified.

Carol's eyes shoot open, "Kamala?"

A loud knock on the door wakes you, "Please, open up!"

"Carol?" You murmur under your breath as you get up. Her knocks only get louder and more desperate as you make your way to let her in, "It's four in the morning," you croak, rubbing your eyes.

She quickly enters, "If you choose to live in space you don't get to work in a time zone." It is only once you close the door that you realize she is carrying an unconscious body.

"Tell me you sang her to sleep," you hope, already dreading the scene that’s about to unfold, Carol only stares at you impatiently.   "There's a medical room in the back." You guide her to the room, and she lays Kamala on the bed. You immediately take charge of the situation.

You were always the one patching Carol up after rough missions, and she felt some guilt every time she was unable to return the favor, "What the hell happened to her?" you ask.

"I don't know." Her tone is somewhat apologetic.

You get to work on the girl to the best of your ability. Her injuries, although nonlethal, are enough to give you goosebumps, they seem to have been caused by a weapon, but not any human weapon that you know of. You doubt Ms Marvel was just hanging out in the streets past midnight when an emergency alien attack took place, which leaves you with a single theory, this was a planned mission that went horribly wrong.

"I think she should wake up on her own, I just have to clean her up," you tell Carol, gesturing towards the numerous bruises and cuts on Kamala's body. She chooses to wait outside to not obstruct your work with her pacing.

"Why didn't you go to the Avengers?" you question Carol once you come out of the room, wiping some blood off your hands with a rag.

She halts her movement, but doesn’t make eye contact, "It seemed easier—faster to just keep going up," she couldn't think of anyone else who could help her in the moment, "her mother is going to kill me."

"No more dinner with the Khans for you," you fake a pout, when you see she's genuinely distressed, you clear your throat and straighten your tone, "is this your fault?"

She shakes her head, "It was already too late when I arrived."

"If they didn't call you, then it's not on you," you reassure her. It is only now that you actually take a good look at Carol, her eyes are red, her skin pale, and her back is hunching, "Have you slept? Or eaten? Or sat down in the past month?" There is genuine worry in your words.

She silently stares at you for a moment and mutters, "What does it matter."

"I'll take that as a 'no.'"

"I’m invulnerable." She tries to stand up tall with the little energy she has.

"Which means you can't die, not that you can go on living like…that."

"I’m doing fine," she argues, but you know better than to believe her.

"You're on the verge of tears, this close to collapsing," you gesture with your fingers, "but you are much too stubborn to do anything about it." Your voice remains velvety soft, you can read her like an open book, and she doesn't like that.

"You were always so good at reminding me to take care of my human side."

"You're all human, down to the fuck ups," the small smile that formed on her face flattens, "sit down," Carol looks toward the medical room tentatively, "she's gonna take her time, sit down," you repeat gently.

She obliges, "Are we gonna pretend you didn't just tell me off earlier?"

"We don't have to, but you can't leave now, so there's no point in being hostile." She nods gratefully.

You offer her a cup of tea and a snack, and invite her to take a warm shower, "If you wanna go through the closet, Val has a good selection of sweaters."

You didn’t even realize you fell asleep again, until a beeping sound wakes you up. You open your eyes to see it's Carol's comms, which prompts you to search for her from your spot on the couch. As you focus further, you hear her voice coming from the med room talking with Kamala, and a subtle smile tugs at your lips.

You're about to ignore the sound and go back to sleep, when a thought occurs to you, nobody calls Captain Marvel just to chat, your sense of duty insists you pick up, "Hello?"

The Avengers director recognizes your voice immediately, "Where’s Danvers?"

"Fury?" You panic, he can't know Carol and you are together.

"Is she with you?" he presses, making your palms sweat.

"I, uh, um—"

"I know about you two, you can calm down."

His words make you freeze in place, "You do?"

"Yes, she's not your boss, it's fine." He glosses over it like it’s nothing as he doesn’t have time for this right now. You find such information difficult to process, but you try to leave the implications for later.

"Okay, why are you calling?"

"Do you know where Kamala is?"

You had momentarily forgotten about your impromptu visitor, "Yes."

"Where?" he demands.

"What’s it to you?" you sass him, deciding to be uncooperative given the circumstances that brought the girl to you in the first place.

"She works for me."

"That’s what I thought, but then, it makes no sense how you assigned her a middle of the night mission without any intention to send backup."

"She wasn't alone, she had Bishop!" he argues.

You feel your body’s temperature rise, "Oh, she had Bishop? Another rookie? And where is your archer now?"

Fury remains calm in the face of your anger, "Right here, too shaken up to actually tell me anything that happened."

"Good news for you, if Kamala's mom doesn't have your head on a stick by morning, Belova definitely will," you warn him, "better sleep with your eye open. Kamala is in good hands, I'll send her your way once I decide she's ready." You aggressively end the call.

Carol comes out of the medical room right as you're setting her comms down, "Who was that?" she asks.

"Fury, he wanted to know where Kamala is, but I’m not telling him." Your jaw is stiff with residual rage.

"Why?"

"He put her in danger, I don't trust him with her." You pull both of your legs up on the couch and cross them.

"But he’s your boss," Carol objects, making sure to maintain a gentle tone so as to not anger you further.

"Yeah, and apparently you aren’t, he knows about us." She meets your gaze and gives you a subtle nod.

Your response comes out louder than you expected, "You knew?"

She breaks eye contact, "It’s recent, I asked him about you."

"So what? We never needed to keep it a secret?"

She kneels on the floor in front of you, "That’s what I've been trying to tell you, we don't need to hide anymore."

"You had many opportunities to hide with me, but you always chose to hide from me." Your voice cracks as you feel your skin cool down.

"You should have said no, you should have pushed back," you search for the meaning of her words in her eyes, "when I asked you to quit your job," she clarifies, "I had no right to do that."

You sigh deeply before responding, "The moment you brought it up I decided I would, because I worry the exact same way every time you go on a mission, I figured it would be better if only one of us had to go through that."

Carol’s eyes travel to the ground, "So, are you gonna get back now that we…?"

"I haven't really thought about it," you confess, "about not being with you anymore."

A few hours later, Kamala calls for Carol, and you go check on her. She looks at you as you enter the room with what you can only describe as disappointment.

"I forced Carol to take a nap, so I’m gonna be looking after you for now," you feel the need to explain, she gives you a light nod and a smile, "how are you feeling?"

"Like an alien used my body to mop the floor." Her smile doesn’t go away.

You chuckle at her words, walking fully into the room and closing the door behind you, "I know what that's like, you're doing great, though."

"I didn't know you were a doctor."

"I’m not," you shrug.

"Carol said you're really good at patching people up."

"With Captain Marvel as your partner, you kinda have to get good at it." You inspect Kamala's bandages, they're sloppy, barely hanging on.

"Did she do these?" you ask rhetorically,

"She means well."

"I really should have checked on you sooner, I'm sorry." You get to work changing them all out for fresh ones.

"Are you guys done for good?" she blurts out as you wrap up her arm, making you shoot her a stern look, "Sorry, it's the painkillers," she quickly apologizes.

"I really don't know." You don't know the answer and you don't know if you wanna talk to a kid about it. You continue to patch her up as an awkward silence takes over.

When you’re almost done, she speaks again, "Can I tell you something?"

Her timid tone makes you worry, "Sure."

"After my first unintentional mission with Carol, Fury asked her to take me in for a few months to train me," her eyes fixate on her lap, "I lived on her ship, and we went on lots of missions together. Once a month, she would make a point to bring me back to Earth, so I could be home and see my family, I thought maybe she became exhausted of having a teenager in her home all the time, so she would use that break to rest, but I think she actually used that time to spend with you."

You nod while listening to her, you knew about this already.

"Eventually, I joined the Young Avengers and moved into the compound, I would constantly ask Fury to let me visit Carol, and I guess he found it cute, so he would help me show up unannounced in her ship, I thought I was doing a good thing, I thought she must get lonely…"

You did not know about that, your mind starts racing.

"What I’m trying to say is, I think Carol stopped spending time with you for fear I might show up at an inconvenient time," your features change abruptly into something she can't quite recognize, she starts to ramble, unable to stop herself, "I’m really sorry, I didn't know, I was just trying to be a good friend. On mother's day, I had to practically beg her so she would accept my invitation, please don't be angry." Her eyes meet yours again and she looks so scared for her life.

You cover your mouth with both hands to avoid saying anything impulsive and take a few deep breaths as you collect your thoughts, your delay only making Kamala grow more nervous.

"Thank you for telling me," you hesitate, carefully measuring your every word, "you couldn't have known, of course I’m not mad at you," your heavy breathing and your nails digging into your palms exposing your real feelings, "I’m gonna bring you lunch."

She mouths, "Okay," trying to calm herself down, and you exit the scene as fast as your feet allow you. When you come back, she's dozed off again.

Carol comes out of the bedroom after her much needed nap, you’re sitting on the couch and don’t bother greeting her before demanding, "I spoke to Kamala, is it true?" Carol becomes instantly alert, "You stopped letting me come visit you for fear of her showing up?"

"Yes," she simply concedes.

"You never said anything."

"I didn't want to seem ungrateful, and she hangs onto my every word, I felt like I had a responsibility towards her."

"And, when I confronted you?"

"She was right there, I couldn’t." To both of your surprise, this conversation plays out a lot more civilized than you expected, given the topic.

"What about earlier?"

Carol exhales heavily, "She's just a kid, she wanted to spend time with me, I don't think she should be blamed for that."

"Hold on," you stand up, the gears in your brain turning, she's confused but decides to let you go through your process, "Fury was the one helping Kamala in and out of your ship, right?" you continue.

"Uh, yeah."

"And he knew about us all along?" Carol nods, trying to catch up with your train of thought, "He also knew when I was with you because I wasn't at work."

She takes a few steps closer to you, "What’s your point?"

"There is no way Kamala and I would have run into each other unless he wanted us to, and we never did." The puzzle pieces finally fall into place.

Carol flares up, "That son of a bitch!"

"Calm down, Captain Marvel."

"He was messing with me, on purpose." Her voice goes up an octave.

You have inadvertently unleashed a monster with your plausible deductions, "You don't know that, I’m sure he has better things to do."

"Like sending his teenagers on a midnight run to get their asses kicked?"

"Okay, that wasn't his brightest moment, but still."

"Who’s side are you on?" Carol’s powers only become more aggressive.

"I’m on the side of 'this is Valkyrie's ship,' and if you throw a fire tantrum I’m gonna be the one paying for it." You set your foot down on the very real implications of her behavior.

In an instant, you both snap your neck in the direction of Carol’s comms that still rest on the couch, you reach for the device, and she slaps your wrist out of the way, you grab her arm with your other hand, and she lights it up so you immediately let go, "That's cheating!" you yell, making her laugh. Taking advantage of her distraction, you kick her arm sending the device flying into the air and catching it behind you, stuffing it in your back pocket.   Carol follows your movement with her eyes and stares at your ass for a bit afterwards. A month ago she would have reached for the device without a second thought, but today, she wouldn't dare, still, that doesn't stop her from being a tease and biting her lip at the sight.

"Perv," you snark, knowing exactly what she’s doing.

She cocks a grin, "When you have something for so long and then lose it all of a sudden, you're bound to miss it, I’m all human, after all," she uses your own words to taunt you, "come one, give me a little spin."

You give her a death stare instead, "Are you sure you want those to be your last words?"

"Sorry." She feigns remorse, her grin still plastered on.

You turn around and walk to the kitchen with a huff, knowing you’re giving her what she wants. In times like these, it's nice to be appreciated. Her smirk turns into genuine delight, underneath her depraved ruse, she's happy to know you're still willing to play along with her.

You start slicing some veggies, much to her confusion, "I thought Kamala already ate?"

"It's for us, you dumbass."

"Oh," she's pleased, 'us,' sounds so sweet coming from your lips, "let me help you," she offers, and it’s now your turn to smile as you observe her every move.

You fall into a good rhythm cooking together until the ship’s door opens, triggering you both into combat mode, Carol's fists light up, and you grab the biggest knife you can find in a vice grip.

King Valkyrie waltzes into her ship, making you exhale in relief and put your weapon down.

"Val?" Carol calls to get her attention, Valkyrie turns in your direction, and you can immediately tell she’s pissed.

"I need my ship back," she orders.

"You promised you weren't gonna track me," you protest in return.

"And I didn't for a whole month," Val interjects, "that’s how good a friend I am, but your boss is on my ass about getting you back home, something about a double assassination attempt," she explains as she closes the door.

"A what?" Carol utters.

"Don’t worry about it," you mumble, knowing what Val is referring to.

"And I could really live with not having to deal with your shit for once," The King continues with a weak snark.

Carol can’t help but tease her, "Since when do you let Fury push you around?"

"You see my face?" Val asks rhetorically, "Do I look amused?" She is not in the mood to be messed with.

You bite the inside of your cheek, watching their exchange, "Do you wanna—?" you gesture for Carol to continue working in the kitchen and guide Val to walk further into the vessel, "Double assassination? That's a bit much."

"He may have been exaggerating," Val shrugs.   "If it were up to me, we would be out of here in no time, but we have an extra passenger." You open the door to the medical room to reveal a sleeping Kamala.

"Shit! What did you do to her?" Valkyrie exclaims.

"I saved her life," you hush with pride.

Val lowers her voice to match yours, "She looks awful."

"You should have seen her when she arrived."

"Poor thing," Valkyrie slowly closes the door so her shock doesn't wake Kamala up, "so, are you two working together for little Marv's sake?"

"Yeah, Carol seems convinced that everything is Fury's fault."

"This?" Val points to Kamala’s door alarmed.

"Well, yes, but also with us," you hesitate.

"How so?"

_____

Carol, Valkyrie, and you are sitting at the table eating together, Val agreed to have a taste after you reassured her you did most of the cooking.

"Explain it to me again," The King asks, still unable to grasp Carol’s reasoning.

"Fury has been letting Kamala into my ship at random times so I grow paranoid of sneaking around with my wife."

"That makes no sense, did you talk to him about it?" Valkyrie responds, prompting Carol to shoot you an angry look.

"I took her comms," you tell Valkyrie, "she’s so livid, there is no way for that conversation to end well, regardless of his answer." Val hadn't noticed Carol's temper, she's good at concealing it, but she can't keep anything hidden from you, you know her much too well.

Your meal is interrupted by a beeping sound coming from Valkyrie’s pocket, "Speak of the devil." She silently excuses herself as she gets up to answer, walking towards the bedroom for some privacy, "What do you want, Nicholas?" despite your efforts, you can only hear half of the conversation, "Yes I am here."

Carol and you follow Val with your eyes until she's out of sight and you can no longer hear her voice.

"We can't leave until Kamala gets better," Carol almost commands you.

"I know that."

"We’re gonna need to stall." Her tone turns suggestive.

A devilish smirk forms on your face, "You got it, Captain." A rush of excitement takes over your body, it almost feels like old times, plotting and sneaking around.

With a loud swing of the door, Val comes back out and announces, "Alright, that's settled, I’m bringing you all home and then taking my ship with me."

Carol leans in to whisper in your ear without taking her eyes off Valkyrie, "Distract her, I have an idea."

You stand and get really close to Valkyrie to take her undivided attention, "But, what about Kamala?" As soon as you speak, Carol stealthily makes her way to the ship's engine.

"I am awfully sorry, but I really don't have time for this, her parents will have to forgive me," Val responds with no real remorse.

"What would Thor think about your decision?" You try to provoke her.

Val scoffs, "Do not bring the beefcake into this."

"So, you're really just gonna let Fury tell you what to do?"

"Whatever allows me to be back home and out of this mess the fastest."

"You’re growing soft, King," you mock.

"You’ll get old one day, too."

"I bet, how old are you this year? Five thousand and three?" Valkyrie begins to make her way to the control panel when Carol comes back up, panting.

"Oh, hey, you're still here?" Carol loudly asks, Val eyes her with suspicion as she keeps walking, "I was just making sure that your ship was all set to return home, turns out we're really low on gas, won't even make it halfway." She fights to catch her breath.

Valkyrie stops with a huff and turns to stare at you both, she's not stupid, "Look at you two conspiring assholes, almost made me forget you're in the middle of filing for divorce." Carol and you look at each other and smile.

"I’m sorry, Val, but we can't go back yet," you state in the firmest tone you can manage.

Valkyrie crosses her arms and sucks on her teeth as she realizes you’ve outplayed her, "Fine, do whatever you want, but I’m not dealing with this anymore," she takes her comms and gives them to you to add to your now growing collection of other people's devices, "I need a drink and a long bubble bath, do not even think about disturbing me." She takes a brand new bottle of Scotch from the kitchen and enters the bathroom.

Carol hadn't felt this good in a long time, the rush of pulling a half thought out plan followed by the satisfaction of it working out just right, with the added bonus that she got to do it by your side, "Good job," she congratulates you.

"Likewise." You have that smile on your face, the one that made Carol fall for you all those years ago, the one she has missed so dearly, not just in the past month, but long before that.

You go back to finishing your lunch in a somewhat comfortable silence. After a moment, Carol speaks, "It wasn't all about Kamala visiting at random," you look at her with a frown, "every time I saw you, I couldn't shake the fear that it might be the last."

"And not seeing me at all was a better choice?" you retort.

"Everyone else could come and go, but I could never deal with losing you, I don't know what I was thinking, I made you a vow and I couldn't keep it, I feel like such a failure." There is something in her eyes that you can’t fully identify, woe, perhaps.

"Why were you so adamant about blaming Fury for this?" You find some respite in knowing that, deep down, she didn’t actually believe it to be true.

"It was easier that way, I didn't have to admit that I’m scared that way," you give her a flat hum in response, "I’m really sorry, I don't expect you to forgive me, but please know that I am very, truly sorry, it's all my fault and I’m owning up to it, as soon as Kamala is better we can go home, and you don't have to see me ever again, if that's what you want."

It would break her heart if you said you didn’t want to see her anymore, fortunately, or not, you refrain from responding and finish the rest of your meal quietly contemplating her every word.

There is so much you wanna say, so many questions you want to ask her, but, would it even change anything?

As much as you want to lift her chin up and reassure her that you can work things out and everything is going to be okay, as much as wish, and hope, this isn’t something you can do on your own, you learned that the hard way, and it hit you like an alien mopping the floor with your body.

Despite your aching chest, you can’t just give her what she wants, it would come at too high a price from you, and you know you deserve better than that.

A few days later, you check on Kamala and conclude that she is stable enough to sustain the trip back. You come out of the room to an awaiting Carol, "I think she's ready to go home," she nods in response, "what did you do with the fuel? Because we're gonna need it about now." With Valkyrie having politely locked herself up in the bedroom since the night she arrived, it’s been on you to take charge once again.

Carol begins to think of all her options, "I’ll figure something out, don't worry about it."

"I worry about a lot of things when it comes to you." You tentatively walk closer to her on the couch.

She looks up at you with curiosity, "Like what?"

"Like if you're eating the right amount, or working too hard, or whether I'll ever be able to trust you again," you mumble the last part.

"I said I’m sorry, what more can I do?" she sighs.

"'Sorry' is not enough, Carol," you no longer have the energy to yell at each other, "what if Dar-Benn had said sorry, would that have made it all okay?"

Her features turn stern as she objects, "She tried to destroy every place I call home."

You look at her with sadness in your eyes, "Sometimes, I feel like that's exactly what you're doing to me." You slump on the other end of the couch and rub your temples.

"What if I took some time off?" she blurts out, making you snap your neck in her direction and you heartbeat race.

"What about your job?"

"I could ask Monica and Kamala to take over for a bit," she suggests nonchalantly.

"That doesn't sound right."

"I can talk to Val."

"She’s a King, she won't just take over because you asked." She seems too comfortable delegating the duties of the strongest Avenger.

"What about The Guardians?"

"The Guardians?" you repeat, "yeah, right."

She runs out of people she’s willing to sacrifice for you, so she gets a better idea, "Then, move into my ship with me!" Your brain stops working and you're unable to respond for an instant, "I don't hear a 'no,'" she insists.

"I didn't say 'yes'"

"What would it take?" you remain silent with a piercing gaze, "I’ll do anything, please." She turns her whole body to face you.

You feel very privileged to be seeing Captain Marvel begging, it makes you feel special knowing she's doing it just for you, so you give her a chance, "Soundproof your room."

"Done," she responds immediately.

"I wanna meet Yan," you continue.

Carol is taken aback with surprise, "Really?"

"He’s the most beautiful man in the universe."

That’s all it takes to convince her, "Okay, yeah, sure."

You worry your lip between your teeth and take much longer to speak this time, "I still want a divorce," you whisper, almost able to hear her heart breaking all over again, she nods sadly and her eyes travel to the ground.

Without any fuel left, Carol’s solution to get you back on Earth is to push the vessel from the outside herself.

You arrive safely to the Avengers compound and help Kamala into the med bay to let an actual doctor treat her for the rest of her recovery. Once you make sure Kamala is taken care of, and Carol has refueled Valkyrie’s ship, you get back in to make your way to New Asgard. All too quick for Fury to intercept.

As soon as you arrive to the Kingdom, Valkyrie exits her ship and all but kicks you out along with her, "I would love to say it was a pleasure, but it really wasn’t," she deadpans, retrieving her comms from you, much too exhausted to make her annoyance noticeable.

Carol and you both know she’s exaggerating, but you also know that you exhausted her trust, you’d better not need anything from her for the next three to five years.

It is only now that Carol realizes a flaw in your trajectory, as you take in her frown, you begin to work things out yourself,  "We’re stuck here," you say her thoughts out loud.

She hesitates slightly before responding, "There is one option…" It’s almost like a pre apology.

"Seriously?" You squint your eyes in dread, succumbing to your faith.

Carol picks you up bridal style and flies off. It only takes a few minutes for you to land on the front lawn of your shared home. She gently puts you down on the ground, and you step away from her, taking a moment to recompose yourself from the intimacy of being carried by your ex.

"Thanks," you say awkwardly, stretching your neck.

She gives you a tight lipped smile, "No problem," you both stand there in silence, unsure of how to act, "so, is this goodbye then?" she crosses her arms, bracing herself for your departure.

"No, I’m moving in with you," you state matter of factly, the confusion in her face is evident.

"What about the divorce?"

"Oh, yeah, we gotta do that." You had forgotten for a second, flying at Captain Marvel speeds always renders your mind hazy.

She retreats further into herself, lowering her gaze, "We can go first thing tomorrow."

You cradle her face with both hands, gently caressing her cheeks until her eyes meet yours, "I am giving you another chance to offer me that ring in the future, to help me trust you again."

Her eyes glimmer like the brightest stars, she turns her face to kiss one of your palms and leans into your touch, "I won't let you down this time, I promise."

@wolf79

[alluralater]

i’ve been killing it in the gym + fucking a hot girl + working harder than usual lately but i’m BACK after a hiatus of five days. can’t wait to fill up your dashes with random hot silly things ;)

[kal-thas]

guys when the disability is disabling 👎

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

i want to compile a list of horror media that people need to watch before they call genloss groundbreaking incredible material. like yall are soooo so deeply entrenched in copium toting this thing around like its the best piece of horror media in the world when like. theres no horror. there has literally been no horror. how are we watching the same thing. go watch gemini home entertainment or marble hornets or daisy brown or unedited footage of a bear or this house has people in it and then come back to me. dont fucking talk to me until youve consumed some horror media thats actually good first!!!!!!!!

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: March 17

"I Like It" by Cardi B, Bad Bunny, J Balvin

[electricpurrs]

i dont think theres a single thing in my life im not tired of anymore. i dont feel like doing anything and im sick to my stomach of everything ever

[born-to-lose]

"Legs up for infidelity" in Trivium's This World Can't Tear Us Apart is such a Line

[syssyadmin]

i hate you legalization efforts that position the newly-official drug market as being divided strictly between “medical use”, which still involves needing a doctor to sign a note saying you’re allowed to self-medicate with it, and “recreational use” in which a doctor has not signed a note and therefore you must be taking a drug purely for enjoyment and as such should be treated by the law as the least charitable interpretation of said person, therefore being subject to extremely high taxes and regulatory restrictions. like. i don’t think i’ve ever met a single self-identified stoner who didn’t openly talk about how they are in essence self-medicating but sure this dichotomy totally makes sense (or at least, $$$)

[scientia-rex]

When I was in ninth grade I wanted to challenge what I saw as a very stupid dress code policy (not being allowed to wear spikes regardless of the size or sharpness of the spikes). My dad said to me, “What is your objective?”

He said it over and over. I contemplated that. I wanted to change an unfair dress code. What did I stand to gain? What did I stand to lose? If what I really wanted was to change the dress code, what would be my most effective potential approach? (He also gave me Discourses on the Fall of Rome by Titus Livius, Machiavelli’s magnum opus. Of course he’d already given me The Prince, Five Rings, and The Art of War.)

I ultimately printed out that phrase, coated it in Mod Podge, and clipped it to my bathroom mirror so I would look at it and think about it every day.

What is your objective?

Forget about how you feel. Ask yourself, what do you want to see happen? And then ask, how can you make it happen? Who needs to agree with you? Who has the power to implement this change? What are the points where you have leverage over them? If you use that leverage now, will you impair your ability to use it in the future? Getting what you want is about effectiveness. It is not about being an alpha or a sigma or whatever other bullshit the men’s right whiners are on about now. You won’t find any MRA talking points in Musashi, because they are not relevant.

I had no clear leverage on the dress code issue. My parents were not on the PTA; neither were any of my friend’s parents who liked me. The teachers did not care about this. Ultimately I just wore what I wanted, my patent leather collar from Hot Topic with large but flattened spikes, and I had guessed correctly—the teachers also did not care enough to discipline me.

I often see people on tumblr, mostly the very young, flail around in discourse. They don’t have an objective. They don’t know what they want to achieve, and they have never thought about strategizing and interpersonal effectiveness. No one can get everything they want by being an asshole. You must be able to work with other people, and that includes smiling when you hate them.

Read Machiavelli. Start with The Prince, but then move on to Discourses. Read Musashi’s Five Rings. Read The Art of War. They’re classics for a reason. They can’t cover all situations, but they can do more for how you think about strategizing than anything you’re getting in middle school and high school curricula.

Don’t vote third party unless you can tell me not only what your objective is but also why this action stands a meaningful chance of accomplishing it. Otherwise, back up and approach your strategy from a new angle. I don’t care how angry you are with Biden right now. He knows about it, and he is both trying to do something and not doing enough. I care about what will happen to millions of people if we have another Trump presidency. Look up Ross Perot, and learn from our past. Find your objective. If it is to stop the genocide in Palestine now, call your elected representatives now. They don’t care about emails; they care about phone calls, because they live in the past. I know this because I shadowed a lobbyist, because knowing how power works is critical to using it.

How do you think I have gotten two clinics to start including gender care in their planning?

Start small. Chip away. Keep working. Find your leverage; figure out how and when to effectively use it. Choose your battles, so that you can concentrate on the battle at hand instead of wasting your resources in many directions. Learn from the accumulated wisdom of people who spent their lives learning by doing, by making mistakes, by watching the mistakes of their enemies.

Don’t be a dickhead. Be smarter than I was at 14. Ask yourself: what is your objective?