#he just distances himself from owning dogs in the earlier years of his life because he hates how soft they make him and his friends TEASE

[lightseoul]

hello!!! can i ask if you headcanon katsuki as a cat or dog person? i imagine him and reader living together with a pet

i'm a fan of your 2k drabbles btw!! 💛

hello, nonnie! first off, thank you so much for the love <3 the drabbles have been a blast to write so far, and i'm looking forward to writing more in the upcoming days 💛

to answer your question, though, i have to be honest and say my first reaction was 'obviously, cat??? 🧍🏻‍♂️' and it's not just because you literally cannot spell katsuki without saying the word. for someone who canonically values his own space and independence, a cat might seem like a good pair for him. temperament-wise, i think cats match his personality better, too. not to mention bakugou's features and how his feline-like eyes and canines make him akin to the animal.

but if i look closely, i actually feel like katsuki is a dog person deep down. we all know how, despite his rough exterior, he is someone who has an immense sense of responsibility and cares so fucking much, and i feel like dogs (who are typically clingy) trigger those qualities in him. also, i think it melts his heart every time (though he will never admit it—no, he's carrying this one to the grave) whenever he gets reminded that a whole living being is fully, wholly dependent and in love with him. being able to care for and protect a dog is not only fulfilling for a closeted, pedantic nerd like him, but it also serves as a much-needed reminder that no matter how aggressive he may appear to be, he is perfectly capable of co-existing, gentleness, and nurturing.

as for breeds, though, i can see him raising either a german shepherd (because they're smart and protective and can be aggressive, yet are perfectly capable of love—a profile he tries to embody himself) or fostering a street dog. for the latter, i feel like he gets overprotective and gets hell-bent on caring for and training the dog and showing them off to pure-breed owners to exhibit how his dog is superior LOL

[wilanserulia]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Prompt 12 - Quarry

Wilan put himself between the Watcher and Zenos at once. An instinctive motion, more than anything. He knew that the ancient shade wasn’t the target of his pursuit, it was against himself that Zenos bared the steel of his scythe.

Zenos Yae Galvus had been singularly obsessed with the Warrior of Light ever since they first crossed blades a few years earlier, during the Empire’s raid at the rebels’ base of Rhalgr’s Reach. Wilan had lost that encounter. And again he lost when they faced off in the Doman territories. Yet in neither occasion Zenos killed him, waxing instead poetics about how he could one day give him the challenge he desired if he spared him. The next time they’d meet, Zenos had his wish granted. Their final confrontation had been grandiose and spectacular, and saw the Imperial Viceroy finally defeated. But the high of having finally been outmatched proved too much to handle, and he’s been stalking the Warrior of Light ever since for a rematch, transcending even his own death.

A bead of sweat slid down Wilan’s brow. He had his eyes trained on Zenos, his posture firm and resolute, and while his left hand was on the hilt of his sword he did not draw it. He held his breath.

He didn’t like his chances. He had just survived a battle with the elder primal Zodiark, and even sundered as it was he had to resort to the incantation in Azem’s crystal to have a chance. And despite being tired and hurt, he was already rushing back down to Hydaelyn’s surface as conflict and turmoil seemed to have inexplicably sprang out all over the star as soon as he emerged victorious. Although truth to be told though, he didn’t like his chances on a good day either. Not against Zenos.

Wilan actually did enjoy fighting. And if the list of accomplishments from the last fifteen years of his life were of any indication, he was pretty good at it too. But fighting had lost its charm ever since the fate of the world had started depending on his prowess. It had been a very long time since he had the luxury to lose a confrontation without it meaning a lot of people dying. But Zenos saw things differently. In his words, he wanted to burn through the candle of his life, and somehow ended up deciding he was his friend for helping him achieve it. It was utter madness, and it made him extremely dangerous.

In other, perhaps less charitable words, Wilan was scared. He always was, when Zenos was around. He was on edge. He felt in danger. He wanted to turn around and flee, put as much distance as possible between himself and that rabid dog. Which is exactly why he didn’t take a single step back. He stood resolute, his feet squarely planted on the ground, his shoulders wide, his chin high, his eyes staring right into Zenos’s. “I will not fight for your amusement, Zenos.” he declared. His voice was loud, carrying no fear or uncertainty, leaving no room for compromise. A simple statement of fact.

You can’t show dangerous beasts any sign of fear. Because that’s when you stop being their enemy and start being their prey.

[silvermaplealder]

Hellhound Adventures: David Chapter 1

Since I got my own puppy, I've felt so inclined to write this. Perhaps I'm just self projecting onto these characters, but I thought it would be very adorable for this to be how they obtained their hellhounds. I'm not going to lie, this story is just a wholesome mess of puppies and the lost boys being dog dads. Each boy will have several chapters of how they got their pup and the little bit of life of caring for them. Mostly because David's full story is already over 4k words (of cute David and puppy chaos) so I realized I'd have to break this down lol. Anyways, Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Who Could Hate Puppies?

Words: 2400ish

Normally Max wouldn’t have wanted David to accompany him anywhere. He didn’t want to risk being seen with his “son” because the image he curated in public was so pristine he didn’t want David to soil the hard work he built up. Today was different though. 

David sat in the passenger seat of Max’s red car. Thorn was at home, close to retiring from his job. Max wanted to start looking into getting a new hellhound puppy for himself, and he urged David to accompany him. David rolled his eyes at first, though all it took was the appearance of a beautiful bottle of whiskey for him to agree to go. 

The two vampires sat in the car with Nickelback playing in the background. “You think I listen to Nickelback?” David asked with a bit of attitude, still a little ticked off about having to leave the rest of the Lost Boys for the night. Not that he was missing much. The other three boys were going to the movie theater tonight to keep themselves occupied. 

“I don’t know,” Max admitted. “You and I haven’t spent much time together lately.” 

“Maybe it’s because your dog tries to rip my arm off each time I come within ten feet of you,” David responded. “And now you’re trying to get a second one.” 

The older vampire sighed. “I require a daytime protector,” he explained, as he had many other times. “And perhaps you do too.” 

David snorted, his eyes averting to look at the side of the road. “The cave is a great deterrent.” 

“Really?” Max stated. “Didn’t Paul tell me you guys had a midday snack earlier this week? A couple of younger college goons looking to explore the cave if I recall.” 

A smile crept across David’s face. “Yeah, it was nice.” 

“But it’s dangerous,” Max chided. “They could have been vampire killers. You could have been dead.” 

David shrugged. “But we didn’t die.” 

Max knew it wasn’t worth arguing with David. He tried many times before, but his son was stubborn. Countless times had David lied to Max’s face and then went home and did exactly what he said he wouldn’t. No matter what he said to David, if David made up his mind it was all worthless. “I suppose you’re right,” Max sighed, adjusting his glasses. Max knew if he wanted David to do something, he needed David to come to the conclusion himself.

The two vampires pulled into a long driveway. The house in the distance was lively with activity. The rooms were brightly lit downstairs, and people were walking between the rooms. Max pulled his car up to the main walkway to the front door. He cut the engine and the two vampires exited the vehicle. Max adjusted his light jacket. “This won’t take long,” he promised. “Just come inside and play nice.” 

“Play nice with who?” David teased, adjusting his long overcoat. Max shot him a stern look. “Who are we here to see?” 

“I’m here to see Stella. She sold me Thorn many years ago. You’re here because I talk about my sons all the time and people are starting to think I’m delusional,” Max chided. “Behave and you just might wake up at sunset to another bottle of whiskey waiting for you.” 

David drew his lips into a tight line. He did like whiskey. “Fine.” 

Max knocked at the door. A chorus of barking dogs erupted, though they were silenced quickly. Footsteps approached the front door. Max stood a little taller and offered a warm smile as the door swung open. 

A woman stood on the other side. Her short hair was a vibrant pink with a streak of dark red. She wasn’t someone David expected Max to hang out with. The woman was punk and glowing. Her clothes were brighter than David’s future. He almost felt the need to wear sunglasses from just looking at her. “Ah, Maxwell!” She praised. She offered a hearty handshake. She moved to David next after taking Max’s hand. “Well, you must be Max’s son.” 

“David,” he introduced, shaking her hand. 

“Well David, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” She stepped aside from the doorway. “Come on in. Make yourself at home!” 

David and Max entered the house. David’s eyes immediately fell on a hellhound at the entrance of the parlor room. He tensed up, remembering how Thorn always responded to him. But this dog wagged her tail, and it was clear to David that she had a litter of puppies recently. 

“That’s Delilah,” Stella commented, motioning to the dog. “Her litter turns seven weeks tomorrow. Vet is coming to give them their first round of shots.” 

“How cute,” Max stated. He put his hand casually on David’s shoulder. “Why don’t you work on that fear of dogs that you have and sit with the puppies? I’m sure those little fellas couldn’t do anything to harm you.” 

“All hellhounds are sweethearts to vampires,” Stella said. She kneeled beside the short haired shepherd dog. “A hellhound will bond with a single owner and they’ll become protective of them. Like Thorn and Max.” She stroked the mama hellhound’s head gently. “But Delilah here knows her job. She needs to let other vampires get close to pick a hellhound of their own. I promise, none of my dogs here will hurt you.” 

David narrowed his eyes and slid his gaze to Max. He knew exactly what Max was up to now. “I’m all good, thanks. I don’t like dogs.” 

Max put his hand onto David’s back. “Just sit in with them, won’t you? It’s good for their socialization to meet new people.” 

David ground his teeth and looked to the parlor. A whelping box was set up with a litter of seven puppies bouncing around. A knot began to form in his stomach as Max gave a gentle nudge for him to go towards the puppies. “Max I don’t want a dog-” David growled. 

“They need socialization,” Stella said. “The puppies are spoken for.” 

David looked between them skeptically, but he trudged across the parlor to the whelping box. He was only doing this for the bottle of whiskey. The puppies were excited to greet him as he stepped over the barrier and entered the puppy pile. Max and Stella vanished into another room, taking Delilah with them. 

The blonde vampire wrinkled his nose as the puppies climbed on his boots. He nudged them aside, careful not to push too hard. “Rat dogs,” he whispered. He made his way into the corner of the box. He shrugged off his overcoat and tucked his gloves into the pockets, not wanting the pups to attempt to bite at them. He tossed it outside the whelping box and sat on the ground. 

To his surprise, the pups lost interest in him and began to tussle between each other. He didn’t know very much about dogs other than they had teeth and would bite when near him. Marko and Paul had a dog phase where they tried to convince David to let them get a puppy. David proved his point by bringing them to a shelter and a dog managed to bite through Paul’s hand in almost thirty seconds after arriving. 

David eyed each puppy nervously. He was anxious, and he was certain that dogs smell fear. He inhaled deeply and fidgeted with his hands. He usually would outline the watch faces on his jacket when he was nervous, but his jacket was safe away from the jaws of the land sharks. These puppies looked like rats to him. They had short tannish fur with dark faces and big, pointed ears. 

One of the puppies meandered towards him. The puppy’s beady eyes looked up to meet David’s. The vampire's lips twitched. If he had a beating heart, it would have been pounding in his ears. His anxiety was telling him to kick the menace away from him, but he would never have the heart to kick a puppy. 

The puppy casually dropped to lay on David’s boot. The black boot had cuffs from all his nights riding motorcycles and performing stunts. David casually twisted his ankle to roll the puppy off him. “Don’t,” he growled. 

The puppy tumbled away from David. Her eyes blinked without a thought behind them. So she did it again. She padded over and dropped onto his boot, putting her chin onto the top of his foot. 

David exhaled sharply and he rolled the puppy away again. The puppy tumbled and rolled to her feet. Still it tried to get to David. 

“Well I’m done here,” David growled. He placed his hands down on the ground to push himself up, but the puppy bounced onto his hand. David stared down at the animal as it stared back up at him. “You just don’t give up, do you?” He scruffed the puppy and put her closer to the other pups. “I will not hesitate to punt kick you next time.” 

It suddenly became a game. He got to his feet and the puppy was on his boot. He picked the puppy up roughly and tossed her with the others. But still, it would wander back. “I hope this is the socializing that Stella was looking for,” David mumbled to himself. 

With one last huff, he grabbed the puppy as the pup bit his spur. He held the pup out in the air at arm’s length. “Do you want me to hurl you out the fucking window or-?” He asked. 

The puppy stared at him, her tail wagging thoroughly. Its whole body was wiggling as the puppy stared at David. The vampire set the puppy down and stepped out of the whelping box. He leaned over and grabbed a hold of his coat. The puppy sailed over the whelping box barrier and tumbled to David’s boots again. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” David hissed. He snatched the puppy from the ground and brought it up to his chest. “Will this make you fucking stop?” He demanded. 

The pup immediately nuzzled her nose right into the crevice of David’s bicep. David sighed. He gently ran his fingers across the fur of the puppy. His fingers twitched when he felt how soft it was. The puppy became a limp puddle of fur in his arms as he stroked her back. It had been a very, very long time since he held a puppy like this- if he even ever did. He could barely remember the last time he interacted with a dog and it turned out fine. 

With each pet, the tension in his shoulders loosened. Soon he found himself sitting on the couch in the parlor, leaning back to support the puppy against his chest. The weight of her on him was soothing the dog anxiety that had built up inside him. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. 

He was startled as Stella and Max entered the room. The puppy stretched and nuzzled further against the vampire. David ground his teeth as he thought of an excuse to why he was holding a puppy. Nothing could come to his mind fast enough though. It was clear as day- he was genuinely in love with this puppy. 

Stella stepped in front of David and held her hands out. “Blue collar pup got snuggly with you, huh,” she said, holding her hands out. 

David carefully lifted the puppy from his chest and handed the pup over. The small puppy whimpered as it shifted hands to Stella. David inhaled and sat up, as if nothing had happened, trying to shove down his emotions quickly. 

Max grabbed David’s overcoat from the ground and casually handed it to the other vampire. Stella put the puppy back into the whelping box. David took the coat and shrugged it on. “Well, we settled our agreement. Are you ready to go?” Max asked. 

“Yeah,” David sighed. “Let’s go.” 

The two vampires went back to the car. Max pulled out some paperwork from his jacket and set it in the center console. “I’m getting another hellhound puppy,” Max explained. “Probably not for another year, but Stella has shown me her future litters.” He started up the car, and pulled out of the driveway. 

David was too curious. He grabbed the paperwork and unfolded it. There were dog names and pedigrees that he couldn’t read very well along with various acronyms he was confused by. 

The blonde vampire folded the paperwork up and set it down again. The two of them were silent as they returned back to Santa Carla. David stared out the window, his mind swirling with compressed emotions. 

“You know,” Max said, breaking the silence. “Those pups she has now, they’re going to their new homes next week.” 

“Nice,” David commented. 

“Yeah.” Max pulled up towards the cliffside by the lighthouse. He put the car in park. The two of them glanced over to the single motorcycle that sat partially hidden in the brush. No one else was home. “Well, thanks for coming with me. Stella was glad to have another vampire around to help with socialization.” 

“Of course,” David mumbled. He got out of the car and adjusted his coat. 

“How much are those pups? Out of curiosity,” David asked, leaning up against the phone booth while cradling the payphone against his ear. He casually flipped through his wallet, seeing only a handful of bills left. Damn nicotine addiction. David spent the whole day dreaming about that puppy. When he woke up he felt antsy. All he could think about was having a dog. 

The elder vampire departed, and David returned to the cave. He dropped down onto his wheelchair throne and for a split second he imagined what it would have been like to feel the puppy on his lap. His fingers twitched as he remembered the soft fur under his hands. 

-----

He knew Max was smiling on the other end of the phone. “Are you perhaps thinking about that blue collared puppy? Because Stella told me the person who was supposed to buy him backed out.” 

“Coincidental, huh?” David commented. He knew it was too coincidental, but he wasn’t in the mood to argue now. He wanted that puppy.

“Stella sells her hellhound puppies for forty-five hundred dollars.” 

“Forty-five hundred!” David gasped. “That’s insane.” 

“But-” Max cut in. “If you are genuinely interested, don’t worry about the cost. I can cover it.” 

David fidgeted with the clock faces on his jacket. His eyes darted around as his emotions raced through his dead heart. “What else do I need for it?”

tags: @misslavenderlady

[dameronscopilot]

I'll Be Your Bright Side

Pt. 4 - And After All, You’re My Wonderwall

Benjamin “Benny” Miller x f!reader

Summary: After Benny's abrupt departure and an entire landslide of miscommunication, the two of you finally manage to see what you've both been missing all along.

Word Count: 5.6k

Rating: 18+ EXPLICIT

Content: NSFW, smut, fluff, angst, pining, misunderstandings, feels, best friends to lovers

Series Playlist

Part 3 | SERIES MASTERLIST

“Ben, are you good?” 

No.

“Yeah, just tired,” Benny lied, feigning a yawn for good measure, though Will didn’t look even remotely convinced.

He was awful, actually—a complete fucking mess. 

Three Hours Earlier

Benny woke to the sound of a dog barking outside, and he tentatively opened his eyes, blinking several times in confusion as he took in the color of the bedspread he was currently tangled up in—mint green. Breathing in the familiar scent of your detergent, his heart began to race, a feeling of dread coming over him when he carefully rolled over. His gaze landed on where you were fast asleep beside him, burrowed in the depths of your comforter.

He thought last night had been a fucking dream. And oh, how wrong he was. 

Will had tried convincing Benny to just come sleep on his couch after the match, well aware that something was wrong, but he’d brushed him off. His brother didn’t need to deal with his stupid problems the night before his wedding.

Unfortunately, he was clearly also incapable of dealing with his own problems, given the fact that the copious amounts of alcohol he’d drank and the string of unanswered text messages from you that kept popping up on his lock screen led him to drunkenly traverse the short distance between your apartment and his on foot. 

Benny ran a hand through his hair, trying to sift through the foggy memories despite his pounding headache. When he shifted slightly, he felt the evidence of what else had happened still lingering in his boxers, and he froze. A wave of nausea rolled through his gut, and he quietly made his way to your bathroom to clean himself up. Afterward, he tightly gripped the edges of the sink as he stared at himself in the mirror.

He’d fucked everything up. 

How could he have taken advantage of you like that?

He’d managed to keep his feelings in check for three goddamn years, and the moment he was faced with the reality that he wouldn’t always be the most important guy in your life, that you would never really be his, all rational thought had taken a backseat as his jealousy took over, chasing down the last remaining dregs of his restraint. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. 

New York was a battle in and of itself for Benny, because despite the fact that the truth lingered dangerously close to the tip of his tongue—closer to the edge than it ever had before—he knew it would have been selfish to put that on you while you were already struggling to deal with your family. He'd needed to shut up and just be there for you. 

Even though he knew you didn’t feel the same, as you softly snored in his arms that night at your parents’ house, Benny made a decision: he was going to tell you how he felt when you got back to Florida. Despite the reality of what the truth would likely do to your friendship, Benny knew it wasn’t fair to either of you for him to keep it bottled up any longer. 

And then now, if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d stepped entirely out of line by drunkenly trying to take an unwarranted cheap shot at Dan—who hadn’t even been at your place when he showed up—he’d fucking taken your bed for the night, guilted you into sleeping beside him, and crossed every goddamn line imaginable by dry humping you right there between the sheets. 

At this point, he didn’t even fucking deserve to call himself your friend, let alone be inside of your apartment.

And…the fucking wedding. The wedding was today. 

His heart sunk further as he glanced at his phone, which lit up with a text message from Will.

Will: Where the hell are you? I’m at your place. 

An emergency had come up with the florist earlier the day before, and the only place Emelie could find to put together last minute arrangements was over an hour away. Benny had promised Will when he dropped him off that he’d go with him to pick everything up in the morning—something he’d entirely forgotten about until this very moment.

Benny: fuck. give me like 5 min

Will: Oh..I know where you are.

Will: Just stay there. I’m on my way to pick you up.

Even if Benny woke you up now, there was no way he could even begin to try to explain himself before Will pulled up. And Santiago and Frankie were busy with their own list of tasks for the morning, so he couldn’t entertain the idea of sending one of them with Will instead.

He would have to settle for an apology via text, with a promise that the two of you would talk about it later. You deserved so much more than a pathetic text message, but for now, he’d have to accept the unfortunate consequences of his poor decisions.

Benny’s heart clenched as he peered into the doorway of your bedroom one more time before making his way to the front door and putting his shoes on. His fingers hovered over the handle in uncertainty for a moment, but at the sound of two brief honks of a horn outside, he knew he was out of time. 

...and once the door to your apartment swung shut, Benny realized that he had left his phone sitting on your bathroom counter. Normally that wouldn’t have been a problem, if hadn’t also forgotten his keys at home in his drunken state the night before. 

Glancing back and forth between the bold numbers on the outside of your door and the stairwell at the end of the hall, Benny knew that knocking to wake you up and let him back inside just simply wasn’t an option. His phone would have to be a lost cause, and he’d just have to pray that you knew him well enough to trust that he’d have an explanation.

Now

Flicking on his turn signal as he prepared to take the upcoming exit on the highway, Will shot a quick glance over at his younger brother. “Stop walking on eggshells just because the wedding is today and tell me what’s going on, man,” he nearly growled.

Benny sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned his head back against the seat. “I fucked up.”

“Did you finally tell her?”

Benny was quiet for a moment, letting the question linger in the air. Though he’d never directly spoken to anyone about his feelings for you, he didn’t doubt that everyone had put together their own assumptions over the years. He saw it in the way Frankie quietly observed your interactions, heard it in Santiago’s relentlessly teasing tone, and downright felt it in the way that Will’s choice of words was always deliberate and precise when you were the topic of conversation. 

Will had casually asked him about it several times since the two of you had met, but Benny made a habit of brushing it off, because he thought it would be easier to forget about his feelings if he didn’t talk about them. There was no point in trying to hide it any longer. Scrubbing a hand over his face, Benny groaned as he recounted the previous night’s sequence of increasingly bad decisions. 

When he finished, Will’s brows were furrowed as he stared at the road ahead. “I mean, I understand that that’s not the way you wanted it to happen. But I don’t really see what the problem is, exactly.”

Tossing his hands in the air, Benny nearly shouted, “It’s not a problem that I showed up at her place drunk off my ass and invited myself into her bed?!”

Will scratched his chin. “I mean if she didn’t feel the same way about you, yeah.”

“She doesn’t.”

His brother barked out a laugh. “You’re joking, right?

Benny whipped his head over to look at Will in confusion. “I spend more time with her than I do with you. I think I would have noticed if she saw me as anything more than her stupid ass best friend.”

Will rolled his eyes. “You were too busy worrying about hiding your own feelings to notice. Because I can sure as hell see it.”

“You’re wrong.”

Groaning, Will tried another tactic. “Ben, you’ve clearly been in love with her for years, and this is the first and only time I’ve ever seen you too afraid to make the first move with someone.”

“Because nobody has ever mattered like she does!” Benny’s voice was strangled as he replied. “And the timing has never been right. At first, I didn’t know when she was going to be ready to even think about seeing someone after that asshole. Then she just never talked about other guys or getting back into dating, so I thought she still wasn’t ready. And then too much time had passed, and I knew she didn’t feel the same at that point, so I didn’t want to fuck up our friendship…” He trailed off. 

Will gaped. “You think that’s why she didn’t talk about that shit with you?” Benny shrugged, so he continued, “It didn’t occur to you that she avoided the topic because she wanted to BE with you?”

“I mean…no, not really…” Benny trailed off.

“So instead, you sat on your ass until she finally got sick of waiting for you and went on a date with another guy,” Will prodded, knowing it would set him off.

“Fuck off,” Benny snapped. “I was going to tell her after the wedding, because I can’t fucking keep it a secret anymore, even if it means she doesn’t want to be friends after she knows”

Will smacked the steering wheel. “Why do you refuse to believe that she feels the same way?”

“Because I’m a fucking joke, Will. I’m not good enough for her. Her ex worked for an accounting firm or some shit, her parents are lawyers! Her sister goes to law school! She used to be in med school, for fuck’s sake. I dance around in a cage and get hit for a living,” Benny cried out.

“You’re one of the most loyal, trustworthy, and hardworking people I’ve ever met, and I’m not just saying that because you’re my little brother. You treat that girl like gold, and she looks at you like you personally hung the goddamn moon and stars just for her, Ben. I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people that are more right for each other.”

“But...” Benny protested.

As Will pulled back up at Benny’s apartment, his tone brokered no room for further argument. “No. You’re more than good enough for her. I’d go so far as to argue that nobody else is good enough for her besides you. You deserve to be happy, Ben. So take the fuckin' leap.” 

---

You were milling about in Will and Emelie’s living room with the bride, her mother, her sister, and her cousin, an array of mirrors, makeup, and hair products spread across every conceivable surface, when there was a knock at the front door. 

“I’ll get it!” you chirped from where you were sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the coffee table, putting the cap on the liquid eyeliner you’d been wrestling with for the past twenty minutes.

Though part of you already suspected Benny wouldn’t be waiting on the other side when you opened the door, your heart sunk all the same when you saw Frankie standing there with a stack of trays in his arms. 

He didn’t miss the way your face fell, and as you took the top tray from his arms and stepped aside to let him in, he raised an eyebrow as he playfully said, “I mean if you ladies don’t want lunch, I’ll take this back to the boys…”

You hip checked him as he passed you, following him into the kitchen and setting the assortment of sandwiches on the table. 

“How’s everything going over at your place, everyone manage to remember their suits and shoes? Benny make it there in one piece?” you asked, trying not to sound too obvious with the latter half of your question. Frankie lived a few streets away, so the boys had taken up residence at his place to get ready.

Frankie snorted, “Ben was definitely hungover when Will dragged him out of bed at like 9 to go pick shit up, because the dumbass forgot his keys. Guess he had to pick the lock to get back into his apartment to get his suit after they got back into town, but everything’s on schedule now. I think, anyway.”

If nothing else, at least you knew why he'd left so early.

“I have the spare key to his place, why wouldn’t he just call—Oh. Right. Hold on.” You gestured for Frankie to wait while you left the room to find your purse. 

Once you had woken up to find that Benny had left, you’d spent nearly an hour catapulting back and forth between embarrassment that you’d basically thrown yourself at him while he was drunk, anger that he’d disappeared without a word, and outright devastation as you realized that you’d been right all along: Benny just didn’t feel the same way about you.

But, because nothing could ever be simple, once you’d finally managed to toss back your comforter and sulk over to the bathroom, you found Benny’s phone sitting on the counter. Though it still didn’t explain why he’d left, it did send your heart flying into a tailspin when the screen lit up with a notification and revealed his wallpaper: a photo taken in Frankie’s backyard a few months back—Benny’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, and he was looking down at you smiling fondly while your head was tossed back in laughter.

Needless to say, your mind was a mess of thoughts in the hours that had passed since, and you knew that, realistically, you likely wouldn’t be getting any answers until after the ceremony. Frankie gave you an odd look when you handed him Benny’s phone and asked him to give it to him, but he didn’t ask any questions.

After Frankie left, you resisted the urge to reach out to Benny as you continued getting ready with the girls, though you jumped any time your phone lit up, hoping to find something like a stupid photo of him fumbling with his tie waiting amongst your text messages.

By the time 3:59 p.m. rolled around, your entire body felt like a circuit board thrumming with unhindered anxiety when the music cue from outside signaled that it was time for the bridal party to exit the house and begin walking down the aisle.

As you made your way out the door, eyes raking over the guests that were gathered in the rows of chairs and the decorations strewn about the yard, you tried to look anywhere but where you knew Benny was standing. You weren't ready for the heartbreak that you'd feel after seeing a look of what you were certain would be regret painted across his face.

---

The chattering of the guests quieted down to a dull murmur as the back door slid open, and the cascading rush of emotions that flooded through Benny the moment that he watched you step out into the backyard nearly brought him to his fucking knees. It took every single ounce of restraint that Benny had ever known not to stride across the grassy path and take you into his arms. 

Even once Will had begun to sniffle when the small crowd in the backyard stood to watch Emelie’s approach, Benny still couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Not even for a goddamn second.

He loved you so fucking much.

---

Though you’d intended to try and steal a moment alone with Benny during the brief cocktail hour that followed, a slight wardrobe malfunction with Emelie’s veil and her dress called for your help inside—and the boys had meanwhile been tasked with folding up the chairs from the ceremony. By the time you and her sister were finished working the best magic that you possibly could with your nimble fingers, it was nearly time to usher Emelie back outside for her and Will’s first dance.

Conversation with Benny during dinner was also not in the cards, unfortunately. Back when she was making the seating chart for the cluster of round tables spread around the yard, you had waved Emelie off and told her you were happy to sit with the bridal party, rather than joining the boys. You thought you’d have the entire night to spend with them, anyway. But now, as you worked your way through the food piled on your plate, you couldn’t help but regret that decision as you stole glances toward where Benny was seated. 

You exhaled a sigh of relief once people began to leave their seats to congregate in the center of the yard where the many boxes of string lights that you and Santiago had hunted down a few weeks ago were now strung about, casting a warm glow across the open space. The volume of the soft music that had been playing through the speakers increased, prompting several couples to start dancing. Glancing around, you slumped your shoulders when you didn’t spy a tall, familiar head of blonde hair anywhere. 

“Dance with me?” You nearly startled at the sound of Will’s voice as he appeared at your side.

“Of course," you replied.

You danced your way across the grass with Will until you eventually came up beside Emelie and Santiago. Emelie shot you a conspiratorial grin and gestured at Santi, “I’ll trade with you after this song, my feet are going to need a break from being stepped on.”

“Hey!” Santi protested.

Will chuckled, and as Santiago attempted to pull Emelie into a spin, he turned back to you. “Have you and Benny talked yet?”

You bit your lip. “How much do you know?”

“Enough,” he answered simply.

“I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to say to him…if he’s even willing to talk to me,” you sighed.

“Wait, what?” The confusion in Will’s voice was evident.

“I just…I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want to be friends anymore,” you replied weakly.

Will grumbled, “Both of you really need to work on your communication skills.”

You were on the verge of trying to press him for more information, but Santiago smoothly cut in as the song came to an end. Will shot a glance back over his shoulder and mouthed “Just talk to him” before heading over to his wife.

Despite the turbulent state of your thoughts, dancing with Santiago to the upbeat track that was playing helped to clear your mind. Neither of you was particularly good at dancing, and you couldn’t help but laugh each time that Santi caught you just in the nick of time before you completely tripped over his feet. 

When the final notes of the song faded out, a familiar tune began to play, and a rich, deep voice that you’d be waiting all day to hear spoke up from beside you.

“Hey Pope, mind if I steal this dance?”

You glanced up, meeting Benny’s soft gaze, and it felt like your heart was caught in your throat as Santi passed you over to him. Overcome with emotion as the song’s opening lyrics began, you couldn't stop yourself from surging forward into Benny’s arms, and you were almost surprised when he welcomed you readily with a hug.

"Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you And by now, you should've somehow realized what you gotta do I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now"

While other couples around you swayed to the music, you and Benny stood rooted to the spot, and he tightened his embrace. Letting out a shaky breath, you finally pulled away after a beat and looked up at him.

Unintentionally, both of you spoke at the same exact time—

“I’m sorry,” you lamented.

“I love you," Benny blurted out.

What?

“What?” you asked, overcome with a dizzy feeling. 

"And all the roads we have to walk are winding And all the lights that lead us there are blinding There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don't know how"

"I love you," he repeated.

Benny brought a hand up to cup the side of your face. “I’ve loved you since the day I met you. I love you so much it fucking hurts sometimes. And I’m sorry it took me so long to figure out how to tell you.”

You closed your eyes, unable to stop the tears that started to fall down your cheeks, and you felt as he brushed them away with his thumb before continuing, “Everything was a mess this morning, and I’m so sorry I didn’t have a chance to wake you up before I left. And last night…that wasn’t how I wanted it to go. You deserved better than that.”

Running a hand through his hair, he let out a self-deprecating laughed and carried on, “I fucked all of this up. And the worst part is, I know you probably don’t even feel the same, so I completely understand if you don’t want to be fr—”

Benny’s eyes went wide as you cut him off when you reached out and roughly tugged on his tie, swiftly pulling his mouth down to meet yours without further preamble.

“I love you too, Benny,” you spoke against his lips, kissing him softly. 

You felt the telltale rumble of laughter that began deep in Benny’s chest when he wrapped his arms around you again and kissed you back with fervor, his lips comfortably slotting against yours. And before you realized what was happening, your feet were already in the air as Benny lifted you up and began to spin you around.

"I said maybe You're gonna be the one that saves me And after all You're my wonderwall"

Distantly, you thought you could hear the sound of your friends whooping in excitement, but you were far too distracted by the way it felt when Benny steadied you with one large hand gripping your hip while the other cupped the back of your head. He grinned and brushed his nose against yours before capturing your lips in another eager kiss. 

---

Once the evening’s guests cleared out, you, the boys, and Emelie headed out to watch the sunrise on the beach. As the first brilliant specks of dawn began to creep across the dark horizon, casting hints of a sparkling glow across the lapping waves in the distance, you contentedly watched the view from where you were tucked in between Benny’s legs in the bed of his truck—which he’d parked directly in the sand. 

Somewhere on the ground below, Santi tiredly leaned against Frankie’s shoulder beside the remaining smoldering ashes of the fire, both of them half asleep. Off in the distance, you could see the faint outlines of Will and Emelie as they walked in the wet sand along the shoreline. 

Benny’s arms were wrapped around your chest, and he held one of your hands in between both of his, idly tracing patterns in your palm with his thumb. He leaned his head forward, nose brushing against your cheek before he kissed the corner of your mouth. Turning your head to the side, you chased after his lips. 

His hair tickled your face as he pressed his forehead to yours, teeth grazing your bottom lip as his tongue flirted with the seam of your mouth. You twisted in his embrace, fumbling with your tangled limbs until you were seated in his lap and facing him.

Benny’s hands slipped under your shirt and wrapped around your waist, his thumbs pressing against your hip bones. You reached up and pushed aside the loose strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes, and something warm unfurled inside of you as you realized you could touch him like this whenever you wanted to now.

The sun began to rise behind you, lighting up the sky in a splash of color, and the golden rays cast a glow over Benny’s face as his blue eyes searched yours. 

“Going back to normal after we got back from New York was so hard,” he lamented.

“I hated it.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “When your alarm went off that morning, you don’t know how close I was to dragging you back into that bed and kissing you.”

“I wish you did.”

“We would have missed our flight,” he teased, lips hovering over yours.

“I would have stayed in that bed with you all day,” you challenged, closing the distance and sliding your mouths together. 

"You love to threaten me with a good time," he said between kisses, groaning into your mouth as you pressed up against him, your hips rocking into his. Benny's hands slid down to grasp your backside. 

"It's my favorite hobby."

“I was so fucking jealous when you told me you had a date,” he groused as he dropped his head to press his nose against your collarbone.

“I only did it because I thought you had a date,” you argued weakly, no real heat behind your words.

Benny’s mouth worked a trail along the curve of your jaw, and he replied, “Would you have told him to leave if I'd started kissing you like I wanted to before he got there?”

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation. “I’ve…always been terrified wondering what I’d do when you finally found someone.”

“Baby, it’s always been you,” Benny breathed out, and your heart fluttered wildly in your chest as he kissed you hard. "Only you."

“Get a room!” Santiago’s voice called out from nearby, and both of you broke apart, laughing while you tried to catch your breath.

---

Sitting nestled in the passenger seat of Benny’s truck as he drove you home from the beach, you laid your hand on the seat between the two of you, and he reached out to tangle your fingers with his. He looked over at you repeatedly as he drove, a permanent grin plastered across his face. 

With the bright rays of the morning sun lighting up the road ahead, you felt lighter than you had in a very long time. Because in the years since Benjamin Miller had entered your life out of pure happenstance, now he was finally yours. 

Or maybe he always had been. 

You had certainly always been his. 

When Benny brought his truck to a stop in front of your apartment building, you turned to him and asked, “Are you coming in?”

He rested his chin on the steering wheel. “I might never leave if I do.”

“Good,” you smiled. 

When you walked in, you didn’t miss the way Benny’s eyes strayed toward the wilted, drooping wildflowers on the windowsill in your kitchen. Beside them, the plant he’d gotten for you still thrived, and a small, purple flower had begun to bloom from one of its stalks. As he turned back to you, he smiled, lifting your hand to brush a kiss across your knuckles.

To make a point, and because you knew the reaction it would get out of him, you strode across the room and plucked the dying flowers from the vase, tossing them into the trash can beneath the sink. You hardly had time to stand up before Benny’s arms had you caged in against the counter, his breath hot on your neck. 

“I prefer houseplants,” you said simply, attempting to keep your voice steady despite the thrill of excitement that shot down your spine at the feeling of Benny pressed up against you.

“I know,” he replied before he began to mouth at the nape of your neck

You arched your back into his touch, and a husky sound escaped his mouth as he bit down on your skin at the junction between your neck and your shoulder. 

Pushing away from the counter, you pulled Benny toward your bedroom, and once you’d crossed the threshold, you turned around and kissed him hard. A soft sigh escaped your lips as his arms snaked around you, and you let him slowly walk you backward in the direction of your bed. 

Your fingers teased at the hem of his shirt, and he broke the kiss, glancing at you. “Are you sure?”

“I've never been more sure, Benny."

Benny let you pull his shirt off before leaning down to ghost his lips across the shell of your ear. “Can’t begin to tell you how many times I’ve thought about this.”

Once the rest of your clothes were discarded on the floor, Benny hooked a finger in the waistband of your underwear, and he crouched down as he slid them down your legs and off of you, lifting one of your feet to place a tender kiss to your ankle. 

Standing back up slowly, his mouth blazed a hot, exploratory trail up your legs and across your stomach, where he eventually slowed to a stop as he cupped your breasts in both hands, thumbs running over your peaked nipples, and a small gasp left your mouth. 

You wrapped your arms around Benny and took several more steps backward until the back of your legs hit the bed. He followed as you climbed up onto the mattress, eyes raking over your naked form as he hovered above you, his hard shaft hanging heavily between his legs.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he said, leaning down to kiss you deeply, and you felt as the slick juices of your arousal began to drip out of you when his cock brushed against your thigh, precum smearing on your skin.

“Hold on,” you murmured, briefly scooting out from beneath Benny toward the side of the bed. You blindly reached out toward the drawer on your nightstand and groped around inside until you eventually found the small, wrapped package that you were looking for tucked into the very back corner.

Benny took the wrapper from your hands, tearing it open. As soon as he finished rolling the condom down his length, you pulled him back on top of you, your fingers gripping at his shoulders. But Benny pulled you upward instead, shifting into a sitting position as he placed you in his lap, urging you to wrap your legs around him.

A keening sound fell from your lips as your damp folds slid against his length, which Benny met with an answering moan that rumbled in his throat when you bucked your hips in his lap.

He snaked a hand between your bodies, his fingers brushing across your stomach before trailing lower, where they eventually cupped your mound. His middle digit pressed against your clit.

“Benny, please,” you whimpered.

Benny’s fingers shifted, and he began to play with the moisture pooled along the outer edges of your fluttering entrance.

“Like this?” he whispered, voice rough.

He teasingly dipped the tip of one finger inside of your entrance, and you rolled your hips in response, whining as a caress of pleasure grazed your nerve endings.

“More,” you pleaded.

Benny slid his entire finger into your cunt, and he groaned. “You’re so fucking wet for me, baby.”

Aching with need, you pressed down against his hand, and Benny chuckled as he slipped another finger into your entrance and slowly began to pump his digits in and out of you.

You reached out a hand to grasp his cock, tugging at his thick length, and Benny’s head tipped forward to rest against your shoulder as his breath hitched in his throat.

“Fuck,” he gasped.

As you began to lift yourself up, Benny pulled his fingers from your core and used both hands to grasp tightly at your hips, lifting you the rest of the way and lining up your entrance with his throbbing shaft.

Together, you both moaned in unison as you slowly sank down onto his cock, your tight walls stretching to accommodate his thick length as he buried himself in your slick channel. Your mouth sought out Benny’s while his shaft massaged your inner walls, his hips arching up into yours as he repeatedly sunk into you.

Benny set a steady pace, and even though you wanted nothing more than to sit anchored in his lap for hours, you knew neither of you would last long this first time. You could feel it in the way Benny’s muscles tensed while you both began to steadily lose your composure.

Prickles of heat began to rapidly spread under your skin, and you deepened the kiss. Benny’s lips engulfed yours with a needy, frantic desperation as he plunged in and out of your dripping entrance. Your legs trembled slightly in response to the growing fire in your abdomen, and once Benny reached down to rub circles over your swollen clit, you went hurtling over the edge.

Your walls spasmed on Benny’s cock as shockwaves of pleasure gripped your body, and he swallowed down the moans that poured from your mouth when the tension inside of you snapped, bursting forth with an orgasm that left your legs trembling.

Benny own shuddering climax followed immediately after, and he buried himself inside of you to the hilt while his mouth melted with yours in a bruising kiss, his hips stuttering as his cock began to twitch and pulse with his release.

—

Afterward, once you were both exhausted and spent, a thought occurred to you as you laid there beside Benny, wrapped up in his arms and basking in the afterglow. You couldn’t help but voice the question that floated in the back of your mind.

“Hey Benny?”

“Yeah?”

“Frankie didn’t get caught up at work that day you came to pick up the check from the shop for him, did he?”

“Fuck no,” Benny chuckled. “I literally had to beg him to let me do it. I just wanted an excuse to see you again.”

You laughed, brushing your nose against his affectionately. “I love you, Benjamin MIller.”

His lips ghosted over yours as he replied without hesitation, “I love you, too.”

---

Fin.

Feedback in the form of comments, reblogs, and/or asks is always greatly appreciated!

Part 3 | SERIES MASTERLIST

Thank you so much to everyone that's followed along for the duration of this series. All of your feedback and love throughout has meant the absolute world to me!

[thegeminisage]

john abused both dean AND sam, just differently. in this essay i will

prove that the abuse manifested in different ways for each of them because that’s how abuse works in real life. this is based on the fact that john saw dean as mary’s surrogate but once he found out about the deal and sam having demon blood he blamed sam for her death. ok let’s fucking go

dean as mary’s surrogate

there are loads of parallels made between dean and mary in early season spn and late season spn. in season 12 dean directly calls himself sam’s mother, but even earlier than that we see him doing the cooking and child rearing. compare that to all the parallels made between sam and john (both of them losing their blonde woman significant others in a ceiling fire) and it’s clear that dean was meant to more resemble mary. it’s not a stretch to say that if we can see it as viewers this is how john saw it in his actual life. i do think john loves dean for being dean but he loves him more for being mary.

sam as the reason behind mary’s death

i think once john learned that sam had demon blood, some part of him must have always been waiting for the other shoe to drop with sam, not ever fully believing this kid was human, and maybe not even knowing if this kid was HIS. a popular theory back in the day was that YED fathered sam (something they had to actually address in season 4 to stop the speculation), and if WE speculated that hard, surely john must have too. i’m sure he loves sam as an extension of mary, and keeps and raises and protects him BECAUSE he’s mary’s, but similarly (or maybe inverse) to dean, i don’t know if he ever fully gave himself permission to love sam for being sam. in fact, i imagine john harbors a lot of self-loathing for failing to save mary. if we directly parallel john and sam, that means by some extent he would also hate sam.

john trusted dean with far too much, and sam with far too little

dean knew about monsters; sam didn’t. dean had memories of their mother and the night she died, and shared that trauma of watching her die with john; sam didn’t. dean knew when john was supposed to be home and who to call if he wasn’t; sam didn’t. dean was given the money and the guns and the CAR ITSELF; sam wasn’t. dean was taught to drive; SAM WASN’T. 

dean was expected to do everything john was supposed to have been doing in his absence - he was to be a mother and father to sam, he was supposed to protect sam from evil, he was supposed to see to sam’s meals and homework and getting to school on time. and he was put under an EXTRAORDINARY amount of pressure not to screw this up even a little bit, despite the fact that he was only a kid. sam on the other hand was kept on a strict need-to-know basis for his entire life, right up until season 1 when they reunite at last. john didn’t trust sam with ANYTHING, and sam knew it. this contributed to his lifelong anger issues because he didn’t DO anything to warrant that kind of mistrust and probably got gaslit about it a lot of times either by john himself or dean (unknowingly, by parroting/believing the things john said). even in the pilot sam says very casually of his mother “she’s gone,” because her memory doesn’t hold the same place of reverence for him - best guess is that john didn’t talk about her much to sam because he didn’t trust sam with emotional stuff either. in s14 we learn that dean was the one who told sam stories about mary, including her terrible casserole - and their attempt at recreating it infuriated john to the point of him throwing the entire concoction in the trash.

john relied on dean for everything, and refused to rely on sam for anything

canonically dean was the one who comforted john after a bad hunt, looked after and fed his brother when john wasn’t around. dean knew how to use a shotgun; sam didn’t. dean knew who to call in an emergency; sam didn’t. dean knew about monsters; sam didn’t. this was done under the guise of “protection for sammy” but turn it around and it’s also protection FROM sammy. think of how angry john gets when he learns sam has been having psychic visions. he’s not just angry that dean didn’t report it to him, he’s angry that the demon’s plans for sam are coming to pass, and that sam is becoming less human. again, he can’t TRUST sam if sam’s not human, and it proves to john that he was right all along to keep sam in the dark as much as possible.

john gave dean too much freedom, and sam no freedom at all

“watch out for sammy.” sam was under constant supervision by either dean or john; john made sure of it. again, it’s protection FOR sam but also protection FROM him, in case he did something inhuman or evil. dean on the other hand was left alone without any supervision at all for days or even weeks at a time - he resorts to stealing bread and peanut butter and (according to jackles) turning tricks for money. he had to make it work and got up to whatever the fuck he wanted when john wasn’t looking. sam had to LITERALLY run away from home before he got the simple pleasure of eating pizza and having a dog by himself, independently. dean was given too much independence and freedom but sam was kept on such a short leash he had none at all.

john made dean feel unworthy, and he made sam feel unclean

when dean fails to protect sam from the shtriga in the season 1 flashbacks, he says his dad looked at him differently after. he also implies that john physically beat him when sam ran away in flagstaff. whether he meant to or not, john made it abundantly clear that his love for dean was not unconditional; it depended very much on how well dean performed the multitude of tasks john assigned him. dean grew up believing that his only worth was in what he could do for other people. he demonstrates this an an adult over and over and over, from letting his possessed family members beat him up to refusing to take care of his own needs, emotional and otherwise, and snapping at people who try to talk to him about his own feelings.

on the other hand, sam talks in season 8 about how even at a very young age he felt impure and unclean, even before he knew that he had demon blood, even before he knew that there was any such thing as monsters. kids aren’t stupid, and sam picked up on the vibes john was putting off - that john didn’t trust him, might not have loved him, and might not have considered him human or even his own child. without even knowing why, he spent his entire life feeling unclean and inhuman, not worth of being loved by his own family. even dean, who we all know loves sam unconditionally, admits in season 14 that he often took dad’s side on arguments because he had “his own stuff,” further leading to the alienation that was sam’s constant companion growing up. 

AND, MOST IMPORTANTLY:

JOHN’S ABUSE PITTED SAM AND DEAN AGAINST EACH OTHER

john saved dean after their shared trauma of mary’s death. dean says in season 1 that the reason he stopped talking was that he was scared. iirc john’s journal implies he was mute for over a year, and dean in season 2 says that when he was 6 or 7 his dad took him shooting for the first time. if mary died just before dean’s fifth birthday, the timeline works out to dean talking again because john took him shooting. i believe that dean hero worships his father because after mary’s death, and dealing with the terror that something like that could come in and take his family away by killing them horribly at any time without any warning, john learning to fight back against the darkness - and teaching dean to do the same - is what gave dean his voice again. BOTH of them saw and carried the memory of mary burning on the ceiling for the rest of their lives. “watch out for sammy” and “get the thing that killed mom” were dean’s reasons to get up in the morning, because they were john’s reasons to get up in the morning. these things were LITERALLY his reasons for living. john gave dean a way to fight back against fear and gave him a cause to keep him going. abuse or not, dean never stopped being grateful for that, and he was the only other person in the whole world who understood the unique horror of what john went through that night. even all the way into season 10, he tells other people that john did right by him. it’s borderline brainwashing. part of dean’s self-worth will always be based on how good of a son he was to john.

on the other hand, knowingly or not, john did everything possible to alienate sam. he kept him on a short leash while also keeping him at arm’s distance. he didn’t trust sam with emotional things like the memory of mary, he didn’t trust sam with the truth about monsters and what they did for a living, he didn’t trust sam with his plans, he didn’t trust sam with the truth about demon blood. canon STRONGLY suggests john knew YED bled in sam’s mouth as a baby, but instead of telling sam or even dean about that, sam had to learn about it in a horrible flashback recreated by YED himself. when sam wanted to go to school, john told him no, and when he left anyway, john told him not to come back.

this is an equal but opposite kind of abuse. john totally fucked up BOTH his kids in complete inversions to each other.

which means that, no matter what john did, it caused sam and dean to fight. this isn’t an interpretation. this is straight up canon.

again, dean says in s14 that he frequently took dad’s side in arguments because he had his own stuff to deal with, and he was trying to keep the peace. dean, a victim of emotional (and implied sometimes physical) abuse himself, was not able to shield sam from all of john’s bullshit. he could stop sam from getting hit and having to see john during the worst of his drunken rages, but he couldn’t trick sam into thinking john loved him unconditionally, because john didn’t love either of his kids unconditionally.

when john acted in a way that was not befitting of a parent, sam rightfully took exception, which forced dean (who was ALSO BEING ABUSED, almost brainwashed) to jump to his defense. that led to john getting to do whatever the hell he wanted and sam and dean arguing about the effects. when sam ran away in flagstaff, DEAN was punished, leading dean to resenting sam for that incursion, even though sam was perfectly right to want to get away from an abusive household. when sam did a normal thing wanting to leave for college at age 18, he left, and dean resented him for that because that meant he was alone to bear the brunt of john’s anger. 

sam repeatedly made logical, emotionally healthy choices in attempting to break the family dynamic, but because of JOHN’S BEHAVIOR, not sam’s, those choices wound up causing dean harm. JOHN HIMSELF was the ultimate wedge between sam and dean growing up and beyond.

and let’s not forget the biggest sin - john spent 22 years impressing upon dean that taking care of sammy was EVERYTHING, and then without any explanation at all, he asked dean to kill him, and then he DIED, which meant dean had to carry that weight by himself (because again, he’s been trained not to trust sam with things). like of COURSE sam got angry when he found out - that’s fucking fucked up! once again sam is being treated like a ticking time bomb for absolutely no reason - he didn’t ask to have demon blood or psychic visions or a dead mom or an abusive father. nor did dean ask to be saddled with the upbringing of an entire human at four years old who he then might have to kill. because dean will always feel gratitude towards john, and sam will always feel resentment, and because based on john’s treatment of them BOTH OF THESE FEELINGS ARE JUSTIFIED, john continues to cause fights between sam and dean long after he’s dead and gone, and that will never change.

on a final note: i’d like to bring this around to season 13.

after cas, mary, kelly, and crowley all die (or are presumed dead in mary’s case) in the season 12 finale, season 13 opens with nobody but sam and dean and jack. dean directly blames jack for these deaths. he says so multiple times. he says where jack can hear him that he knows jack is evil and impure and cannot be saved and calls jack a freak. when jack tries repeatedly to kill himself dean says to jack’s face not to bother, because WHEN jack does go bad, dean will be the one to kill him. dean does NOT see jack as castiel’s child - he sees jack as someone who brainwashed cas and kelly both and got them killed. dean does not even see jack as a human person worthy of life. from the get-go, all he wants is to put jack down. jack is born into a world shaped by pain and grief and anger, where people hate him simply for what he is and who died to get him here. 

and again, sam identifies hard with jack. he justifiably protests dean’s treatment of him. jack is a kid and didn’t ask for any of this. jack is terrified of dean. sam reminds dean that john said all these things about sam that dean is saying about jack. john is still causing a rift between his sons over a decade after his death.

eventually, after jack uses his powers and brings back cas from the empty, dean pulls his head out of his ass and admits that he was wrong. he calls jack his kid more than once, and jack refers to dean as one of his dads. but the damage has already been done. jack struggles multiple times with his powers, accidentally hurting people and then wishing himself dead after. he also struggles without them; even when using his powers means using up pieces of his soul, he does it, because dean taught him that he’s only worthy of being loved and trusted if he’s “good.” even when he has NO SOUL, when jack does something bad he panics about it and seeks to undo it at any cost. that’s how deep the damage runs.

i see a lot of people remarking that in the arc of 13.01-13.05, dean became john, and i agree that he did. but dean didn’t do to jack what john did to him. dean did to jack what john did to SAM.

[spn masterpost]

[whump-town]

"Paranoid" 

Should be in bed and asleep deadass rn but instead it's hotch's birthday so here's the worst thing i could think of:

Word count: 1500 words

The decay of late fall sets Hotch’s nerves on edge. Shadows begin to walk amidst the day again, the sun sets earlier and earlier every day and the wind comes back with a sharp clarity and the imminent threat of winter. Halloween decorations hang ripped from tree branches by the wind and unsupervised groups of teenagers. The leaves are wet, stomped to a soggy film overtop the concrete. Dry leaves skitter up the road, a dog barks two doors over. Hotch tries to narrow his focus on walking, watching his shoe touch down on the ground and propel him forward. Focus on walking rather than the twisted-up nerves in his stomach, the thought pressed up behind his eyes telling him to be afraid. To expect something, to be cautious. 

Jack will be home at seven-thirty, he has debate practice until five but he’s been on a kick the last month – using his own money to have dinner with friends. Hotch has met four teenagers, but supposedly their gang is made of six. They're nice kids, a little afraid of all the secrecy and the general state of how Hotch looks, but Jack is also a teen and Hotch won’t keep him home just because his life is fucked up. 

Hotch kicks his shoes off at the door, searching through the dark for any sight of Jack. He already knows Jack isn’t home – if he were, every light in the house would be on – but Hotch still tugs his jacket off and calls out anyway. It is his birthday, there might be a chance Jack has come home early to spend the day with him. He’s not exactly been father-of-the-year, Hotch isn’t even sure Jack thinks he’s a good dad, and up-rooting Jack’s entire life and moving blindly across the county did not win him any favors. 

Hotch falters as he steps into the kitchen, his brain processing the melted candles, wilted and drizzling wax down onto white icing. “Jack?” Hotch blows the last flame, a tiny flicker, out and turns around, heading for his room. “Jack!”

See and this is where it never makes any sense to him, that therapy business. Two different Bureau psychs told Hotch he was paranoid. He sees this little towny lady now, Cassandra. She’s thirty, but he’s certain she’s lying, and he struggles to get past the idea that she’s far too young to be dealing with a sad old man’s problems. He also hates her. She’s all about this feeling business, she has this annoying pillow with all the emotions on a wheel and she makes him point to what he feels before he’s allowed to speak. She’s also incredibly bossy and thinks he’s “hyper-vigilant”,  “paranoid”, and “uses logic to distance himself from his emotions”. 

Oh, he can’t wait to tell Cassandra about this. Paranoid, huh? Well, is it still called paranoid, Cassandra, if you’re right?

There’s a gun in the china cabinet. Hotch doesn’t even have to look, he keeps his back to the wall, as his hands push through the dust to where he knows, instinctively, his backup weapon is. There’s not a sound in the house – nothing. 

Clearing rooms is instinct, Hotch’s anxiety abates the moment the cold metal meets his palm. He knows what to do. Hotch feels like he breathes for the first time in months as he raises the gun, the thoughts clearing his head. Just silence. 

Hotch doesn’t realize how empty he’s left this house until he’s scanning the walls. He has nightmares about slamming Foyet’s head into his engagement photos. The way that the glass had broken, the shards in his fingers. Hotch can’t remember a lot from that fight but he does remember that, the way it felt through his hand as he drove Foyet’s head into the glass. 

He thinks about that a lot (it’s red on the feelings wheel, disgusted: embarrassed, appalled). 

Seeing the walls, the barren hall, and the empty living room make Hotch realize that he is the reason Jack doesn’t want to be here. This might be a house but he’s hardly made it anything else. It’s just empty rooms, a desolate, sad place Jack doesn’t want to come back to (that’s orange on the feeling wheel, sad: guilty, remorseful – he doesn’t like the feelings wheel but Hotch doesn’t half-ass anything, he’s got it memorized… that one’s come up in therapy actually). 

Hotch lowers the gun the moment he sees Jack and he’s blinded, black spots clouding his vision as something collides with the back of his head, snapping his jaw shut with an audible crack – the crack is not from his jaw, which does hurt, but nearly as much as getting hit with a gun. 

Hotch falls down to his knees and he shouts as his gun is kicked from his hand, a swift blow to his wrist that gives easily. Something wet and cold hits his face, a powerful assault that steals his breath as the substance burns its way down his throat. Hotch’s back hits the ground and he looks up at a mask. Foyet. His heart feels like it’s stopped, his face getting pale and really hot, and he lays paralyzed in fear. 

Peter Lewis pulls the mask off his face in one quick movement, revealing a smile behind the blacked-out mouth of the mask. “I thought that’d scare you,” he says, cheerily, holding the mask back from himself and smiling at it proudly. “I really had to search for this,” Lewis admits, tossing it onto Jack’s bed. “You know, the company that sold Mr. Foyet his mask made a huge profit after he escaped prison.” Lewis nods and then shrugs, “but they did stop selling them after you know who got killed… Haley. Your wife.” 

Hotch closes his eyes, willing his vision to clear when he opens them again. He can hardly focus his eyes and he can’t move his head but he can see Jack from the corner of his eye. He’s frozen, standing completely still with tears streaming down his face. There’s cake batter dried to his hands and shirt and flour all over his pants. 

“Now,” Lewis says, clearing his throat and offering Jack the gun. “We talked about this,” Lewis reminds Jack, “take the gun.” 

Jack sobs, choking but he takes the gun from Lewis. 

“Do it.” Hotch watches the way Lewis looks at Jack, that giant creepy smile trying to soothe Jack, attempting to calm him down so he can press the trigger. “You have to do it, Jack.” 

Jack closes his eyes, his right hand stretching the gun out in front of him but the rest of him turned from it. “No,” he manages, coughing as he grows more and more distressed. He’s hyperventilating, sobbing as he stands there. “Please.” 

“Hotch,” Lewis says, turning suddenly to him with a smile. “Tell Jack who killed his mother.” 

Hotch shuts his eyes, feeling the compulsion to speak, the ability, hit him like his mouth is watering. “I did.”

“Louder!”

“I did!” Hotch can feel himself shaking, the effects of the drugs are starting to hit him a little stronger. He feels light-headed, and suddenly so cold. “I did, it was my fault.”

Lewis tsks, “well there you have it.” He smiles at Jack, “now do it.”

Jack shakes and yelps when Lewis grabs his other hand, putting them both on the barrel and aiming the gun down at Hotch. “Do. It.” Lewis commands one last time. “You kill him or I kill you both.”

“Jack.” Jack’s attention turns gratefully to Hotch, wanting nothing more than for his father to just end this already. Figure this crap out and get them home – Jack just wants his dad, he doesn’t know how to do this. He’s just scared. 

“It’s okay,” Hotch is panting, whatever drug Lewis sprayed in his face fucking sucks. Hotch has not done a lot of drugs but he’s done enough, more than enough to know whatever this shit is, it’s awful. “It’s okay, buddy.” He can’t see anything anymore, the cake batter on Jack’s shirt has faded into the blue fabric. Black spots are blocking the center of his vision, trying to take him down into the cold with them. “ ‘s… ‘kay.”

Lewis nudges the gun back up, wrapping his arm around Jack’s shoulder. “Won’t be long,” Lewis whispers. “I told you the drugs were strong, he won't feel it. You can do it, Jack. It’s so much easier than you think.”

"Dad," Jack sobs, his knees shaking beneath him and he feels Lewis stand closer to him. "Dad–"

The gunshot is ignored, a solitary confusing sound but the sound of screaming, of gut-wrenching sobs, draws attention to the quiet little house.

[inukag-archive]

i’m not sure how to explain this properly because i struggle with english (sorry 😢) but are there any fanfics where inuyasha makes a mistake or upsets kagome and they break up/stop talking/something like that and inuyasha tries to fix it and apologizes and they get back together? i probably didn’t explain good but i like those types of fics

Fear not anon, we understood the assignment! We've compiled a list of the misunderstandings you're after and would also like to point you towards the Break-Up and Make-Up list we posted a little while ago. Happy reading! ❤

Until You're Mine by manga3x (E)

Now in the midst of adulthood and recently married, Kagome Higurashi is more than shocked when she sees her ex-boyfriend from high school, her first true love who still has a special place in her heart but has also broken it. Despite her reservations, she agrees to a seemingly meaningless reunion when their conversation brings back memories she doesn't want to remember, choices she can't make, and heartache she can't handle.

--

Delicate by @akitokihojo (T)

To trust someone, to let them in, what an unsettling ordeal. Kagome is easy and safe, and Inuyasha is difficult and guarded. She can put him at ease with a smile, simultaneously setting him on edge. It was nothing until it was something, creating absolute chaos and uncertainty within the both of them.

--

Song and Dance Man by @mamabearcat (T)

“What if we’ve been fooling ourselves Inuyasha.” “Huh?” “I mean, look at us,” she said, gesturing from Inuyasha’s faded Soundgarden t-shirt and ripped black jeans to her heart patterned leggings and hot pink t-shirt which proudly proclaimed she was Fuelled by Theatre and Coffee. “We couldn’t be more different.” “But”, spluttered Inuyasha, his heart suddenly beating faster at the dangerous direction the conversation was taking. “Different is good! Yes, we like different things, but that shouldn’t matter!” Kagome’s bottom lip quivered. “It might not matter tomorrow, or next week, or the week after that, but sooner or later, it would."

When Kagome is suffering from a bad case of PMS fuelled anxiety about their new relationship, will Inuyasha know the right thing to do to calm her fears?

--

Done For by @purdybaby (T)

Inuyasha is sick as a dog so he pushes Kagome away and hard!

--

Trust by @splendentgoddess (T)

Believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see. But if we cannot trust our own eyes, then whom can we trust? Inuyasha had thought that he could trust Kagome, until she betrayed him in the cruelest of ways. Or did she?

--

The Secret by @inunanna (T)

Kagome always thought that coming back to the Feudal Era would mean finally being together with Inuyasha, openly and officially together, but she was the only one. Inuyasha won't never endanger Kagome, even if that means forcing himself to stay away from Kagome. One of them will have to change their mind.

--

To Tell the Truth by @splendentgoddess (M)

Mistaken identity has a priest giving Kagome a tea that temporarily makes her incapable of lying. Assured that the inu-tachi are not who he thought they were, they're free to go. But how long before the tea wears off? And just what will Kagome admit?

--

One Love by Eev (T)

Certain events compel Kagome to run away and start a new life elsewhere. Can Inuyasha convince her to come back?

--

the deception. by @fandomobsessions016 (E)

Kagome and Sango have just graduated college, and Kagome is set to return home… to the city. The city she left behind four years earlier. Almost as soon as she arrives and is unceremoniously reacquainted with her ex, Kagome realizes she’s made a mistake. Four years of distance and alleged personal growth have done nothing to tame her tumultuous heart or lessen her pain. Now, she has to confront her agonizing past while traversing through a myriad of emotions as she comes face to face with the very people she left the city to avoid; Inuyasha and Miroku. Thankfully, she has Sango by her side, as not all is as it seems…

--

Asks and Answers (Chapter 3: Mine) by @lavendertwilight89 (E)

Ask: I wanna cuddle but if I touch I won't be able to stop.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

182 Centimeters | Tall!F!Reader x Surprise

A great boon has been bestowed upon Aoi Todo. First, he got to meet Takada in person. Second, he gained a brother. Third, he was able to fight a special grade all in one month.

Is there anything else that could make this trip perfect?

Todo didn't think so until he lays eyes on you, standing in the middle of the hallway with luggage tucked under one arm and the other holding onto a rolling suitcase. He remembers now about Mai mentioning a late edition transfer student who was going to be joining in the school games a little late. He only wishes Mai had warned him about the other thing about you. The fact that you are an amazon in the flesh.

"She has to be 187," Todo thinks upon first seeing you and sizing you up from a respectable distance. "No, she's definitely closer to 185. Definitely, 185," he corrects as he tries to measure you by judging how far your head was away from the top door frame. When he glances down at your feet, he realizes his stupid mistake and smacks himself on the forehead. "I'm such an idiot. I forgot about her shoes." Taking your soles into account, he finally narrows down your height range. You have to be 182cm. An even 6 feet. That makes you taller than even Takada!

Todo's eyes widen upon the realization.

You had half his attraction factor right there; and with his help in training, you would definitely have the second half. He knows plenty of exercises that would make your ass look great and have the rest of your body strong enough to toss any curse. You guys could make training into dates, and dates would lead to the two of you making kissy faces. Aoi can already picture it. Naturally, you'd be admiring him, shirtless and glistening with sweat, unable to take your eyes off him. Then, you'd grow embarrassed when he would call you out on it and try to look away like you were never staring in the first place. Luckily for you, he wouldn't mind if you wanted to look at his chiseled chest a little while longer. Or better yet, touch it. 

Todo isn't sure what he's done to deserve such luck. Perhaps the world is rewarding him for finally breaking his record of 1000 sit-ups in an hour or maybe it's the limited-edition lucky Takada-chan charm that arrived in a mail a week earlier working its magic?

Either way, this might be the best year of his life, Todo decides.

That is until he hears a familiar voice. 

"Hey there! How are you doing?" Yuuji asks loudly as he walks up to your person. Todo should've known. Of course, his brother would sense best girl material walking into the building.

"My name is Yuuji. What's yours?"

"I'm (Name). I'm a new student here. I'm a little lost actually. Could you help me out?"

Even your voice sounds so cute! You were so perfect.

That means Yuuji had no chance with the way he was doing things now. Despite Todo wanting you for himself, he could never leave his brother to make such an embarrassment of himself. If the two of them are to battle for your love, it has to be a fair battle.

"Yeah, the dorms are thi—" Yuuji yelps as he's suddenly tugged away from you and dragged around the nearest corner, leaving you in a confused state where you stood.

"What’s the big idea?" Yuuji asks, breaking free from the grasp that held him.

"I'm trying to save you, brother! What do you think you're doing walking up to a woman like that so casually?" Todo asks.

It takes Yuuji a few seconds to realize that Todo meant you were the woman that couldn't be so casually spoken to since he's fairly sure you're a first-year like him. "I'm pretty sure she's the same age as us, dude."

This is worse than he thought. He's definitely going to have to give Yuuji the rundown on how to properly ask a girl out. "That doesn't matter. She's still a lady that requires finesse if you're going to try to ask her out," Todo says. 

Sadly, they are too busy in their discussion to notice you getting impatient for Yuuji to return or to notice another one of your classmates passing them and heading in your direction. You are just thankful to finally have someone help walk you to your dorm and not ditch you instead.

For the rest of the day, Yuuji is stuck with Todo lecturing in his ear. The first time being at the baseball game against the Kyoto school.

"First, you need to set the mood. And by mood, I mean you need to get her attention on you. Do something to impress her without her knowing you're trying to impress her," Todo instructs as you round home base on long legs, which Todo claims is made for a goddess. You were able to get a score for the team thanks to Fushiguro's sacrifice bunt, and the two of you take a seat in the dugout.

"Shouldn't you be helping your team?" Yuuji asks Todo after seeing him compliment your score. Todo sighs. Obviously, Yuuji needs more lessons. 

Eventually, Yuuji steps up to the plate for his turn. Naturally, he hits a home run. As he rounds home, he sees you applauding loudly. Your eyes perfectly on him. It definitely feels good to have a cute girl's attention, and Yuuji realizes that he did really want to ask you out. He wonders if Todo thinks that's a good way to set the mood.

The next time Todo decides to instruct Yuuji is after they all take their showers and decide to rest up before dinner. "Next, you need to leave a letter under her door. Something to pique her interest and make her want to meet up with you."

Luckily, Yuuji has seen this before in anime. "Right, right. I heard of that actually." He easily drafted a letter and slid it under your dorm door. It sounds like you're talking to someone else on the other side so Yuuji hopes you'll see it in time so the two of you can meet up in fifteen minutes.

"Finally, make sure the place you meet up is scenic," Todo says, nodding his head and closing his eyes to repeat the steps in his head as he follows his brother to the school's courtyard. Impress? Check. Letter? Check. Scenic meet-up place? Check.

It isn't until he feels Yuuji's hand on his shoulder and a quick thanks that Todo realizes his mistake. Yuuji rushes away from him to the other side of the courtyard where you're waiting with the letter in hand. 

"My name is Yuuji. I don't know if you remember me from class."

"Oh, yes, I know! You hit that homerun. It was really great."

Todo stands in shock. 

...He was so busy trying to teach that he actually forgot to pursue you first!

"Really? Thanks! I was just trying to make sure I actually hit it. I wasn't expecting it to go so far." Yuuji laughed. "So, (Name), I was wondering if you wanna go out together?"

Todo could cry. Actually, he already feels the tears coming down his face, but his brother could at least be happy. And if his brother is happy, that's all he needed!

"I'm sorry," you say sweetly. "I only showed up because I didn't want to stand you up, but the truth is I already like someone, and I wouldn't feel comfortable going out with someone when I have a crush on another person."

Todo's ears ring with your words. You already like someone!

"Oh, well, that's too bad, I guess. Thanks for telling me," Yuuji says with a disappointed yet understanding smile while Todo finds the opportunity to scoot in the middle of your conversation.

"Excuse me but your crush wouldn't happen to be on me by any chance?" he asks, hopeful.

You force a smile onto your face and tilt your head. "Sorry...Have we met?" you ask, nervously.

Todo gasps as he feels his world crashing down. Your date. Your marriage. Your kids. All gone, and it’s all black in his memory after that. The next thing he can recall is sitting in the eating area with Itadori. He remembers this heartache once before. "It's just like with Takada-chan..." he mumbles heartbrokenly.

"I told you already. We never went to the same middle school, and you never confessed to Takada," Yuuji grumbles, but Todo knows that Yuuji is only trying to make him feel better. He is so lucky to have such a good brother.

"Who...Who do you think it is anyway?"

Yuuji pauses.

He actually wonders that as well.

Then, they hear your voice ringing through the dining hall. Immediately, both sets of eyes are on you. 

"Fushiguro-kun, I wanted to thank you for helping me get settled into the academy. My mom gave me a buy one, get one free for a sushi place for when I made some friends, so...I was wondering if you wanted to be my plus one?"

Then, Yuuji finally gets it. He had been ignoring the small conversations happening around him the entire time thanks to Todo's interruptions.

The Hall.

"Excuse me. I'm looking for the dorms. Gojo-sensei was supposed to show me, but he got sidetracked so I've been sort of left on my own."

"Of course, he did. Geeze, that guy." Megumi sighs. "You can follow me. I'll show you where some empty rooms near the other girls are."

"Thank you so much! I'm (Name) by the way."

"Fushiguro," he states plainly and simply as you struggle behind him with your luggage. "Is that stuff heavy? Want me to help you carry it?"

”Yes. My arms got numb while I was waiting. Thank you so much!”

The Game.

"Out!" Gojo says. Fushiguro rounds first base to head back to the dugout, but you at least made it home to score. You head to the dugout as well.

"That's too bad, Fushiguro. You'll get it next time," you say, sitting next to him.

"As long as Kugisaki made it to second and you made it home then it's fine. I'm not really too hyped up on winning anyway."

”Oh. I was really looking forward to seeing you get one.”

”Too bad. Guess you’ll have to wait,” and by “wait” Megumi had meant probably not ever but you laughed anyway even though you had got what he meant. 

”I don’t mind waiting.”

The Dorms.

"Kugisaki-san said you could summon different shikigami animals."

"That's true."

"Would you mind showing me sometime? I love animals."

"What is your favorite?"

"I really like rabbits. Are you able to summon those?"

"Not at the moment, but I’ll show you when I learn it. How do you feel about dogs instead?"

”That cute dog was yours? That’s amazing.”

And now.

"Yeah, sure. I wasn't really in the mood for anything at school anyway," Fushiguro agrees, and your face lights up with a glow that could rival sunshine. Yuuji thinks if he squints he can see the anime hearts starting to dance over your head but Fushiguro didn't seem to mind.

Itadori could almost laugh. That's a new record in anyone ever befriending Fushiguro. The two of you must have hit it off really well. Yuuji smiles. In that case, he couldn't be upset. That must mean fate has something in store for you guys, and he didn't want to get in the way. "I guess girls really do like that cool, quiet type."

Meanwhile, Todo is crying in defeat. How could a woman like you like Fushiguro? 

"He's so boring though..."

[milkiane]

matters the most

pairings: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: profanities, mentions of alcoholic beverages, sexual comments

word count: 1996

request: give me rafe angst with prompt "god, i can't even look at you"

a/n: all the love to @s1ater as always, and thank you to @iwritesiriusly for being the best <3

love is such a concept that most people would often dream of, wanting the full experience of having butterflies in your stomach, fireworks erupting with every kiss, the messy and complicated rollercoaster ride. everything about love just sounds so beautiful.

love brings two people, from strangers, or enemies, or life-long friends, together and creates sheer happiness and adoration for each other, but love is never always about all that cliché domesticity. sometimes it’s all about the thrill and the danger that it brings along.

it was funny, really. how rafe, who wasn’t afraid to express his hatred for pogues, fell for one. love did work in mysterious ways, they said.

neither of you knew how you lasted for 8 months without getting caught, but both of you knew that the fun wouldn’t last for long before something would come in between.

he didn’t know that his dad and rose would be home earlier than they said. he thought he’d have the house to himself, that’s why he invited you to come. amidst a steamy make-out sesh did they walk in, followed by an argument between the two men. you awkwardly stood behind rafe, lips swollen and cheeks red as rose glared at you.

it didn’t end well, but when does it ever? forbidden love had its perks, but it also had its downfalls. ward demanded to break off whatever liaison his son had with you, whilst still raving about his disdain for the likes of you and how rafe turned out to be just like his disappointment of a sister. rafe decided that he’s had enough and stormed off with you.

that’s why rafe was in the cut at the dead of the night, standing in front of the chateau.

he shook his head, bringing out his phone to give you a call as he brought the large blanket closer to his chest.

incoming call: rafey <3

groaning, you reached out your hand and blindly patted around your bed for your ringing phone. the brightness of your phone glaring at you to the degree, making you hiss.

“rafe? it’s 2 in the morning, why the-” you grumbled, eyes fluttering close as sleep started to glaze over.

“come outside, babe. i’m on your front porch,” he said, taking in the sight of it before silently muttering, “if you could even call it a porch.”

“shut up, rafe,” you groaned, ending the call as you threw your blankets to the side and leaving your warm sanctuary to see your boyfriend. quietly making your way past john b’s room and jj, who was sleeping on the couch.

“what are you doing here?” you asked, wrapping your arms around his torso as he placed a kiss on your temple.

“wanted to come see you, we don’t know to what extent my dad’ll go to make us break up, so let’s make the most of our time,” he shrugged, reaching out for your hand, he intertwined your fingers together and dragged you towards an open space.

rafe unfolded the blanket and spread it out, laying down on it as he opened his arms to invite you in.

snuggling into his embrace, you smiled softly, “you know, i’m usually the one who sneaks out to see you,”

he chuckled, his chest vibrating as he did, “yeah, but we gotta have some change now, i guess,”

you sighed, nuzzling deeper into his arms, “imagine if the clash between the kooks and pogues never existed, if the odds were in our favor, we would have lived happily,”

“we’ll get married,” rafe started, then tilted his head to look down at you, “a beach wedding, d’you want a beach wedding?”

“yeah,” you grinned, playing with the rings on his fingers, “then we’ll have two kids and a dog, and a house in between figure 8 and the cut,”

silence surrounded the both of you, sad smiles on your faces as you looked up at the twinkling stars. the chirping of cicadas and the rustling of the trees serving as a piece of calming music.

after a while, rafe began to speak up again, “are you… are you sure that this is worth all the secrecy, y/n?”

you furrowed your eyebrows, removing yourself from his hold to you look at him, “what?”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “i just- we knew it would end one way or another, right?”

you paused, trying to let his words sink in before asking him, “what’re you trying to say, rafe?”

by now, he was already sitting up, “i’m just saying that we just got lucky that we lasted for nearly a year. i mean, it’s far-fetched, you’re a pogue, and i’m a kook. it would have been easier if you were like me,”

you scoffed pathetically, “oh, so it’s my fault now that i was born a pogue? well, i’m sorry that i couldn’t control how life works, that i have to work my ass off 24/7 to keep myself surviving,”

“you know that’s not what i meant, baby, it’s just that-“ rafe groaned, he didn’t know what else to say because that’s exactly what he meant.

“then what is it, rafe? you don’t know how hard it is to work multiple jobs just to keep yourself afloat, it’s unfair how we didn’t choose to live like this, yet you kooks torment us for trying to have food to serve on our tables,” you fumed, “so i’m sorry that we don’t have golden spoons sticking out of our mouths or that our daddies don’t give us whatever the hell we want,”

“i can’t believe you doubted us for even a second,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes to keep your tears from falling, “do you think this was all easy for me, rafe? because no, it wasn’t, but i still loved you with all that i am, with all that i have, because i knew that we’ll get through this.”

“y/n-”

“god, i can’t even look at you right now,” you stood up, grabbing your phone as you made your way back to the chateau, tears gathering in your eyes.

“y/n, wait, c’mon-”

rafe grabbed your arm, but you immediately removed it from his grasp as you whipped around, “you know, i may not have a lot to offer, but i knew that i made you happy and i loved you an awful lot, so i’m sorry if that wasn’t enough.”

you let the tears fall this time, looking at him one more time before going in and slamming the door shut, making jj jump up in surprise, “y/n?”

rafe stood there for a moment, trying to shake away the broken look on your face from his mind. he sauntered after you, knocking aggressively at the front door, “y/n, c’mon, i’m sorry, baby.”

john b rushed out of his room, jumbled and confused as he held the bat up, “wha-?”

you shoved him away and hurried back to your room. the two boys exchanged looks before opening the door. to say that they were shocked to see a disheveled rafe cameron on their doorstep was an understatement, “what the fuck are you doing in here, cameron?”

he ignored them and tried to push past them, “get outta the way, pogues,”

but they weren’t having it, they pushed him back with a glare. he scoffed, looking back once more before slowly backing off, grabbing the blanket before speeding away on his motorbike.

you wouldn’t choose to be here if you had a choice, but alas, if it means working at the midsummers and earning a decent salary with free champagne to drown your sorrows in, then you might just have to.

so, clad in a waitress’s apparel, too tight for your liking, and a tray of glasses of champagne in hand, you maneuvered your way towards the old uppity haughty kooks.

at a respectable distance, rafe was looking at you with a sad look on his face, wanting nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and tell you how sorry he is and how he loves you so much.

it was when topper’s voice snapped him out of his trance, “have you seen l/n’s ass in that uniform? i would’ve done her right then and there if she wasn’t a pogue,”

the sounds of his friends’ laughters fumed him, but instead of saying anything, he shot up out of his seat and approached you.

you momentarily glanced at him and swallowed, “champagne?”

he grabbed the glass that you shoved at his chest, fingers grazing over another, “y/n, please, i just want to talk,”

“i’m not here for you, cameron,” you caught a glimpse of his friends slowly approaching the both of you, sniggering from behind him, “i’m here to earn some money, so if you’ll excuse me,”

but before you could even make your way around them, topper and kelce harshly knocked on your shoulders, the tray of glasses breaking into pieces as it fell.

“watch it, pogue,”

gasps were heard across the room, as you staggered back from the force. you heard pope and jj run towards you, john b and kiara excusing themselves from the guests to follow.

you let out a shaky breath, crouching down to pick up the pieces as ward slowly walked over to scold you.

as they continued to laugh, they risked a glance to see a livid rafe glaring at them instead of laughing along with them, and with that, their laughter died down, a look of confusion replacing their amusement.

rafe looked around, catching the eye of his father who stopped in his tracks, a glint in his eye as if he was daring him to go help you, to ruin their family’s reputation.

without a single doubt, he took the broken shards from your hold and raised you up by your arms, earning another round of gasps from the crowd.

he looked at you, silently asking for permission. when a small smile tugged your lips, he leaned in slowly, closing in the proximity of your lips. your arms wrapped around his neck as his own wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer.

as you heard his father’s footsteps, rafe pulled away and grabbed your arm, sprinting into a run.

“rafe!”

the both of you burst into laughter as you dashed through the crowd, hands still intertwined as you looked for a quiet spot.

you stopped at their backyard, fairy lights hung from tree to tree, and the music from the platform softly echoing. trying to catch a breath, you let your head fall on his chest. rafe’s hand ran through your hair, “i’m sorry, y/n,”

“rafe-”

“no, no. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean what i said, okay? i love you too much,” he cupped your face in his hands, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheeks, “i’ll gladly give up the life i have right now if it means spending it with you. none of this luxury would compare to you, no amount of money would make me happy as you do.”

you pulled him into another kiss, running a hand through his hair. it was slow, sensual, something different from the type of intimacy you often did, as though if you rushed things, you’d open your eyes to see that everything was just a dream. rafe brought you closer than possible, a hand resting the other on the small of your back and on your hip, rubbing slow circles on the exposed skin.

pulling away slowly, you whispered a hoarse, “i love you, rafe cameron,”

he smiled softly, swaying slowly to the distant music. an aura of love and sovereignty enveloping the both of you in a bubble of your own. none of you cared about the rivalry anymore, or his father, or what other people would say. let them talk.

it wouldn’t bother you, because you had each other, and that’s what matters the most.

add yourself to my taglist!

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[chifuyuzu]

leap of faith — sano manjiro x reader.

word count — 1.3k.

genre — fluff fluff fluff, i love sweet mikey.

contains — cursing, timeskip SPOILERS present, reader is gender neutral.

description — sano manjiro is in love with you, and he realizes how much he loves you at the ass crack of fuckin' dawn.

author's note — hey besties, this is my first published fic here, kinda short but mikey brain rot is heavy. i hope you enjoy this cute fic before i rip your hearts out with some angst in a few days :^) reblogs and likes are always appreciated! and please give me feedback in my inbox! hehe, enjoy.

“it’s late.”

you know. but you still wanted to hear the sound of his voice before bed.

“mm… i missed ya’, is that a crime?” your voice echos through the receiver, the sound of your duvet crinkling in the background as you shift in place. sano manjiro was a busy man. always has been, always will be. being the leader of a biker gang was never easy—let alone some “new age” criminal organization.

you didn’t understand why manjiro persisted to play this game of russian roulette with his life. but it was never your place to overstep, especially since this was his life. it was all he knew, all he understood. you’re not sure what he’s doing, or if he’s even allowed to talk on the phone at this hour, but you still wanted to hear him. just so you know he’s alive and well.

you hear him chuckle, the sound of his feet scurrying against whatever floor his sandals were clacking against. the background noise that accompanied him earlier has dissipated; you realized he probably went outside to hear you better.

“your crime is loving a fool like me way too much. don’t think you’re sane.” he’s right. you’re actually crazy for even pursuing him. there was a lot of push and shove in the beginning, both parties scared of being hurt and getting hurt. but you were always there, even when manjiro went through whatever darkness was eating at his soul.

“crazy for you.”

“corny.”

“you love me.”

a pause. eerie enough to send shivers down your spine. why wasn’t he responding? did something happen? did you smother him too much? is he regretting—

“marry me.”

… not what you were expecting. especially not over the phone.

“sano manjiro, did you just propose over the phone? what kind of shitty rom-com are we in?”

“is that a no?”

“... never said that.” you wanted to marry him. but you wanted him to put that lifestyle behind, for the sake of the family you might have in the future. kids, dogs, cats, etcetera. you wanted him to be in, one hundred percent. but you knew he was too deep into this world to run now—especially since he’s so well-known as the ‘invincible mikey.’ you still longed for a happy home with manjiro, and a normal life.

“maybe you’re right. it’s not my style to ask you this over the phone.”

“try again later. when you’re really ready.”

the gag is, he is ready.

manjiro hurries home, blond locks hidden underneath a thin, black hoodie. he’s shaking, like a pomeranian in the presence of fireworks. his hand meets the left side of his chest, back pressed up against the grey colored wall of your shared apartment as he slides down to sit on the floor. it was four in the morning, and manjiro was about to shit himself.

he gulps, eyes peering around for you, double checking that you were fast asleep before he makes a phone call. his fingers tapped the back of his iphone, impatiently waiting for the other caller to answer. though it was the crack of dawn, he still needed some moral support.

“mikey? fuck you callin’ for at this hour? haven’t heard from you in mo—”

“ken-chin. i’m proposing.”

a loud ‘flop’ rang through the receiver, accompanied by the bedsheets seemingly slipping underneath draken’s feet. it was a huge bomb to drop, especially when the duo has been separated for months on end. manjiro hears more shuffling, followed by a few curses. “you’re fucking lying. the one you’ve been one since—?”

“yeah. i’m crazy as hell. but i love them. head over heels. i’m a goddamn simp.”

“why the hell am i the first to know, man?”

“you’re m’best friend, even if i need to stay away from you. and, also… you’re not the first to know. i asked them already.”

“you WHAT? don’t fuckin’ tell me you did it some dumb way like over the pho— you did. you’re impulsive enough to do it like that, too.” regardless of how long it’s been, draken still knows and understands manjiro like nothing ever happened.

“yeah… not romantic. but i can’t see myself with anyone else. i trust no one else. but i… am…”

“scared? man, you’re the head of a criminal organization. ‘course you’re scared. you don’t want the love of your life… to get hurt…” his voice trails off and manjiro’s heart tenses even more. the memories of the past still felt fresh. all the people they lost in tokyo manji… could never be replaced. not in a million years.

but the living must live.

“i love y/n. never felt like this before. i’d quit everything. but i would have to make sure they’re safe and whatever future we have together is secure. i know i promised takemichi that i’d protect everyone and that future he worked so hard to save… but what about mine?”

manjiro really did sacrifice everything for his friends. being the type of person who carries everyone else’s burdens takes a toll on his mental. he felt selfish for wanting to leave it all behind. but maybe being selfish was beneficial once in a while.

“listen—”

“do you think i’m stupid?”

“mikey. you’re not stupid,” draken sighs, shuffling again in place. “you just want to love someone and be loved in return. nothin’ stupid about that. what is stupid though, is you proposing over the damn phone.”

he’s not wrong. it was a spur of the moment decision that could drastically change his life forever. but with you, he doesn’t care. as long as you’re his, forever.

“how do you think i should do it?”

“well. i guess, tell me some sappy shit. how do you feel about them, and whatnot.”

“i don’t think i could ever imagine me with anyone else. a lot of people have tried to grab my attention but i only have eyes for y/n. sometimes when shit gets real hard…” manjiro takes a deep sigh, fingers threading through his hair, tilting back the hood to let it fall onto his back. “i think of y/n and i remember that even in this shit world, someone is here for me. someone cares about me. they make me feel like i’m not alone anymore.

i have dreams ‘bout us, y’know? me and y/n… kids running around. a little mikey clone. pissin’ them off because we want little flags on our meals. going to the park and letting kids be kids. maybe i’ll teach ‘em at a dojo like gramps did for me and my siblings. maybe i’ll teach ‘em about bikes—with your help, of course.”

draken laughs, letting his friend continue his little speech as he gets comfortable in bed again. don’t think i’ve ever seen mikey like this, ever, draken muses.

“man, we can own a whole zoo if we wanted. chifuyu could hook us up, in secret, of course. still have to protect everyone,” manjiro is grinning from ear to ear, head resting against the wall. “i wanna grow old with them. honestly, i didn’t think i’d make it to my twenties. more so, i didn’t want to live past twenty-something. but now… things are different. wanna be old and gray. see grandkids terrorize our children. die together.”

the tension in manjiro’s chest has faded away, only left with warmth that only you could bring him. his free hand reaches into his pocket to fumble with a small box, snapping it open to reveal the engagement ring his grandfather handed down to him.

he wasn’t the marrying type. but for you, he was.

“that all? you sound good like that, man. make an exception and let us come to the wedding.”

manjiro wants that more than anything. his friends, you... all safe. all happy. but again, the fear creeps up. he doesn’t know what to do with himself if any of you get hurt.

“... how do i tell y/n that?”

“you already have.” your voice makes him jump, knocking the velvet box out of his fingers and onto the hardwood floor. his face pales, followed by a huge lump forming at his throat when he sees your figure emerge from your shared bedroom.

“i-uh… i thought you were a-asleep.” manjiro mumbles, earning a huge laugh from draken on the other side. he hears him say something along the lines of ‘my cue to leave. good luck. send me an invite.’

“i was waiting for you.” 

he’s sweating now, a small bead forming at the base of his neck. his phone is now at his side, the screen flashing from draken’s caller id to the lockscreen photo of you on your first date together, a few years back. your eyes zone into the box, though.

“i was going to do this… better. god, i fucked up, huh?”

you’re laughing now, rubbing your tired eyes before you join him near the wall, picking up the box. “what makes you think that, dummy?”

now he’s confused. you wanted him to ask when he was serious, but in his head, serious meant rose petals, candles, someone singing celine dion in the distance.

without a word, you slip the ring onto its appropriate finger, holding up to the small rays of sunlight that peaked through the window from the approaching sunrise. manjiro’s hands fly up to your face, holding his whole world in his hands. his eyes are shiny, on the brink of tears. you nudge your noses together, foreheads connecting tenderly. your hands hooked onto the hem of his hoodie, bringing his frame closer as you whisper a soft ‘yes.’

“yes?”

“yes, i’ll marry you.”

manjiro’s lips curl up into the silliest grin you’ve ever seen him sport, before he presses a soft kiss to your lips. now he’s kissing you quite desperately. as if he’s trying to make sure you’re real, that this isn’t a dream. you feel his words vibrate against your lips, “gonna make you so happy, i promise. i love you. i love you so, so much.”

“forevermore.”

“forever yours.”

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Punica granatum: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

synopsis: a short snippet of a story you all know and love.

wc: 1.6k

tw: none

masterlist

"Are you hungry?"

"No." You cast an angry glance at the monster who is holding you captive. "Leave me alone."

"Perhaps you're thirsty?"

"No." A protective covering of shrubs shields you away from the stench of oakmoss and belladonna emitting from the entity across from you. "Go away." His green eyes shift from your hunched-over figure to the stone-cold floor in front of him.

"I..." His words falter, but you look away from him, focusing on some point in the distance. The hulking god across from you stands suddenly, storming off in the face of your resistance as you call out,

"I'd rather die than live here with you."

But that wasn't all true. Death is so final, so permanent. And you could never bring yourself to do the unthinkable and commit yourself to such an act. However, you did not want your captor to feel any reassurance from your presence.

Discomfort.

You want him to avoid looking at you, avoid talking to you, avoid you completely. Maybe then he would let you go back home to your goddess mother and your life as a humble farmer to the eternal beings of this world.

Maybe then he'd see you were of no value to him among the various others he could have stolen that day.

But Toji Fushiguro is a patient god, you learn, and your hunger strike withers in the face of his persistence.

"You must be hungry," he murmurs, leaning over the couch you're perched on and looking at you curiously. "I have fruit if you want it. And it's fresh."

Fresh fruit. Your stomach grumbles furiously at the offering, but you mask your hunger with a look of disinterest.

"No, thank you." You place your book in front of your face again, the words blurring together as Toji moves around to sit next to you, his black sweatshirt pulled taut over his chest.

"Not even some juice, huh?" You don't reply, still pretending to read the book, when he finally sighs. "Well, I'm going to go to a meeting. I'll be back shortly but in the meantime, my... friend... will be watching over you. In case you try to escape." Again, you offer him no response, and Toji leaves you alone on the couch; the invisible "friend" no doubt just the cameras placed around the property.

You've scoped them out and know where you can hide should you need a place to do something secretive. Three blind spots. That's all you had to do what you had wanted to do for some time now.

You walk into the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of water before looking over the offerings in the fruit bowl. Bananas, oranges, apples... a pomegranate.

Perfect.

You pluck the ripe fruit from the bowl with ease and retrieve a metal spoon from a drawer. All the knifes had been replaced with notes like "thought you could use one of those, huh" and "not in my house". Little shithead.

You open the fruit and scrape the seeds from inside while you stand between the pantry and the laundry room, right in the blind spot of two cameras. You devour the fruit in record timing, then dispose of it as quickly as you can before downing the cup of water you poured earlier, placing it in the sink, and in full view of a camera.

"I knew you were hungry."

The voice behind you makes your skin crawl, and you turn to face Toji again, eyes wide.

"How did you--"

"Does it matter?" he wonders, taking his hands out of his sweatpants pockets and rubbing them together briefly. "Between the fruit and the books, you're easy to predict. You haven't considered I've planted everything here for you so you'll be more inclined to--"

"You tricked me."

"And?" Your stomach lurches, and you grip the sink edge behind you, vision blurring.

"What the hell have you done to me?" Toji gives you a toothy grin, approaching you slowly and placing both hands on either side of your body. His head dips, the scar on his lips separating as he speaks gently, deliberately.

"You consumed my property. You ate one of the many fruits I grow in the fields of my domain, little goddess. You're mine... at least until I say you're not." Your knees buckle slightly, but you still manage to keep yourself upright, clutching the sink for all it's worth. "Six sections of the pomegranate. Six months out of the year. That's what you owe me."

"Fucking asshole--"

"Careful, y/n," Toji touches your chin, but you snap your teeth at him with the little strength you have left. "It's a shame you didn't eat the orange. But I bet you wish you would've eaten the banana instead..."

His voice fades to black as you slump forward, your body giving out and no longer supporting you.

_____________________________________________________________

You awake in your bed, like most mornings, staring out at the barren landscape of your new home.

"There's no life here," you whisper to no one, eyes blinking slowly. "There's nothing here."

Toji takes his respite in his own room, choosing to remain away from you, especially because you cry. You cry every single day. And when you're not crying, you're laying somewhere, sniffling into your sleeves as you dig deeper into the despair and sorrow of your predicament.

The first time you cried, he didn't know what to do. Toji started with trying to get you to eat something - which was rebuffed with a nasty retort - and ended up watching you sob into your hands, unsure of what he could do to make it better.

"You could let me go," you huffed, but he recoiled, frowning at you as if you had just requested the world stop spinning.

"You ate the fruit," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and squinting his emerald eyes. "I'm sorry, but them's the rules."

"You're not sorry."

"No, I'm actually not."

And from that day on, you vowed to see less and less of him until finally, you remained in your room, huddled under the comforter and staring out of the window from dawn until dusk. You don't know how many days had passed like this, but it doesn't matter.

There would be a time when you would be allowed to go home.

You don't want to be here.

Or so you think.

_____________________________________________________________

The first day you're coaxed out of bed is entirely by accident.

A barking noise draws you out of your trance, and you almost fall out of bed at the sound of something other than another person in the house.

You throw open the door and rush toward the yipping, finding Toji sitting in the living room on all fours and staring down at the little white dog. The tiny thing is staring back at him with wide blue eyes, wholly focused.

"Speak."

The dog barks twice, then a treat is produced from Toji's hand and deposited in front of the canine. When Toji sees you staring from around the corner, brows furrowed, he offers you a look of recognition. The white dog walks up to Toji and licks his face, then sits and waits patiently.

"Throw hands," Toji commands the dog, and it backs up on its back legs, raising its front paws before jumping toward Toji. "I taught it a few tricks." You approach the two carefully, the dog facing you with a wide smile and a wagging tail.

"Hey, little buddy..." you whisper, picking it up carefully.

"His name is Six Eyes."

You and Six Eyes become fast friends, running around the house and terrorizing Toji on occasion. But the best days are spent with Six Eyes in your room, both of you laying out on the bed with a book or something to take your mind off of the punishment you must endure.

Toji rarely bothers you, and you the same. Unless, of course, Six Eyes needs to pee and he can't take him out due to "work", or you need Toji to get his dog food.

But in taking care of the little dog - who is much smarter than he would have anyone believe - you find a softness in Toji you hadn't seen before. Countless times, you find him and Six Eyes napping on the couch or playing "soccer" (which is just fetch with a tennis ball), or sitting together and watching some science fiction show. Your hatred of him doesn't quite wane, but you allow yourself to see him in a different light. One that isn't so bad.

_____________________________________________________________

"Tomorrow," Toji announces while you're sitting with Six Eyes and watching a telenovela. "You're going home tomorrow."

"Wait, really?" He notices the lift in your tone, the way you straighten up and your eyes regain the hint of the familiar glow they had before he stripped it away from you. In his heart, there is deep envy, a deep desire to know what it's like to be thought of as desirable. But he ignores that part of himself, stuffing it down as you hold Six Eyes in your arms and watch him carefully.

"Yeah," he answers, tossing the pieces of junk mail into the trash in the kitchen. "For six months."

"Can I take him with me?" You hold up the dog and the animal stares at him with that stupid "head empty, stomach full" look. Toji clicks his tongue against his teeth and turns away, shrugging.

"Whatever." You respond by placing a few kisses on the dog's head, returning back to the telenovela with a cheerfulness you can't quite contain. And Toji notices it, growing ever so distant with each hour that passes, until he's fully retreated into his room and sulking while reading the volume you had first picked up when you arrived, trying to find a deeper meaning within the words he had never read before.

[yoonpobs]

we don't talk together | myg

pairing: min yoongi x oc

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, growth! exes that remain exes

words: 2, 842

summary: it's hard to say it's over

What they don't tell you about goodbyes is that it isn't the end.

It's far from the closing of a book. Goodbyes are the itch that urges you to pick up an old book from the shelf just to feel what you first felt when you re-read certain parts of a book; the same remorse you felt when a character you grew attached to didn't get the ending they deserved. Or, maybe it was the villain that was misunderstood—your own heart wishing to reach out to the sad soul that couldn't even be recognised when all they do is speak.

But some books will end up dusty, forgotten, tucked away in the corner of your shelf; or in the most drastic of cases: lost.

"The park looks ... different," Yoongi speaks up for a lack of a better conversation starter.

You hum. What would you say? That it wasn't the same from when we used to spend our Spring's blended into Summer's until it got too hot for us to lay in each other's embrace?

It was still too fresh even though it's been nearly a year.

"There are more dogs," You point out the moment a tan pomeranian runs past the two of you, the owner an old couple laughing away under the cherry blossoms.

He nods, fingers stuffed in his trench coat. You note that it's the same one he wore on your anniversary, plans abandoned when there was a mix-up with the reservations until the two of you stumbled across a hidden gem that soon became your go-to date place.

You will yourself to look away so no more memories can resurface. It seems like every part of your life has somehow seamlessly intertwined itself with traces of Yoongi that it was impossible for you to exist as just yourself.

"How are things at the firm?" He asks after the two of you walked side-by-side in complete silence as more and more chatter fill your ears.

"It's ... going," You chuckle dryly.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you, shooting you a brief glance over until the two of you reach a bench. You dare say it's muscle memory that dragged your heavy feet into the direction of the only bench that you've known in the park. The compressed reminder of the initials of your names that you carved as teenagers likely still staining the years old wood. It was meant to be an emblem for wisdom, the ring of growth that meant to be the endgame for the two of you.

You almost laugh in bitterness and how literal the metaphor was.

"Everything okay?"

Yoongi takes the first step to sit on the bench because he always did. Ever the gentlemen when he opened doors for you, let you into the car first, waited until you stepped ahead of him to trail behind like a shield.

The first date, first kiss, first confession.

The first one to decide that it was over.

"My boss is just being sexist, as usual. I thought I'd get used to it after spending two years there but ... there are some things that you just stay unfamiliar, you know?"

It was very like you to speak in double-entendres without intending to. But it was also like Yoongi to pick up on it, especially after years of learning all the best and worst parts of you; he was and probably will be one of the few people in your lives that will always foresee your next move.

The two of you sit a fair distance apart on the bench even if it was a battle for space anyway. You didn't have the liberty to lean into his embrace anymore and he wasn't in the position to say that it was okay for you to breathe, to relax.

"You shouldn't get used to those remarks. There are times where you learn to grow used to constructive criticism but if what he's saying makes you question your worth because of very arbitrary reasons like your gender then that isn't criticism, nor is it constructive. It's bigoted and chauvinistic."

You look down to your thumbs as you fiddle with it, his words comforting you. It was woeful that you still chased validation from him even after learning to be that person to yourself.

"Yeah, I guess."

Then how did you get used to things?

If time didn't make things familiar then what did? Was it not the five years with Yoongi that led you to see him build an empire for himself all the while destroying the relationship that you had? Or was it because he was the person that you thought of doing the most minuscule things?

"By the way," He clears his throat, eyes still set forward, "Namjoon says hi."

You raise an eyebrow, surprised to hear the name of a mutual friend—or more appropriately, friend by association and acquaintance when that link was broken.

"He knows that you're with me?"

Yoongi nods his head.

"I needed to let someone at the studio know and ... well, he's the only one that knew of our situation."

You chuckle bitterly.

Of course. The suggestion of his work only made your heart drop because as much as you wanted to be supportive of him, even after the break-up, the name of his studio or songs only reminded you of the battle that you helplessly lost.

"You can tell him that I'm still a text or phone call away. No need to play messenger," You return.

The atmosphere is more reflective than awkward. You know that the two of you had your pieces to say, your own narrative to tell but neither brave enough to break the calm that you were settled in. It was a nice difference from the way that things ended, and you supposed that you were similar enough to believe in a mirage than the inevitable truth.

But you didn't call him out after six months to sit in silence to walk away with your heart feeling heavier, nor did you invite him out just to remember what it feels like to have him next to you—even in complete silence.

"Would you have really quit?"

This time, you gather all the bravery that you've built over the past few months to ask the question that has been mulling in your mind since the night you decided that it was officially over.

It was a painful break-up. Even if you expected it when Yoongi came home earlier one night with bags under his eyes and his keys that he usually left at the studio because he knew you'd always be home to open the door for him.

"I'm sorry?" He seems taken aback.

You don't blame him. You've always been more passive in dealing with confrontation due to your conflict-averse nature—but that didn't mean you didn't get angry or annoyed—or hurt. But if you learned anything, it was to stop asking yourself questions that you'll never have the answer to.

"Would you really have left the company to save our relationship?"

You chose your words carefully. Instead of saying to be with you, knowing that he lost the love, he had for you somewhere along the way—you point out the one hole that he held on to for the sake of stability. The one thing that was constant in his life with how unpredictable the music industry was.

"Yes."

Somehow, the answer doesn't make you feel better because even with time apart you knew he was lying to save your face.

"You don't owe me anything to lie to my face, Yoongi." You frown.

Yoongi sighs, rubbing his hands across his face as he leaves your statement hanging in the air to mull over his answer.

You prefer the silence that way. It showed that he was at least listening, or cared enough to decide his next set of words. Nothing like how much it pained you to acknowledge the responses you got from him when you were crying were just out of obligation than sincerity.

"No, I wouldn't have."

You nod your head, expectant of the answer but you needed to hear him say it himself rather than drowning yourself in ruminating thoughts of how there was still a semblance of hope that he would've given it up for you, for your relationship—or the life that you were meant to build.

"I wouldn't have asked you to, anyway." You confess.

Yoongi turns his head to look at you and for the first time since you've met at the park, he notices the absence of a necklace around your neck. The necklace that you never took off. He wants to comment on it, ask where it went or if you've pawned it off out of pettiness but he held no remorse towards you. You were tolerant with the break-up even as you sucked in your tears when he knew that it killed you on the inside. Yoongi didn't have the heart in him to ask you.

"Oh."

"You were the one that said you'd quit so we could stay together," You say softly.

Yoongi doesn't respond as he looks back to the night where the two of you sat down to talk about the standing of your relationship. It was a rollercoaster of emotions that started off with an amicable discussion that eventually led to the two of you yelling until you surrendered to your tears and just left the battle completely.

He said a lot of things that night. From things that he's been bottling up for months, to things that he's always wanted to tell you and things that he didn't remotely mean, and things that he's regretted the moment it left his lips.

"I guess I did."

You sigh, leaning back into the bench as you observe a couple walking in front of you, passing your bench as they share an ice cream on a cone; bickering on who'd get the first lick. To anyone, you and Yoongi would've looked just like a couple that has reached a comfortable point in your relationship where intimacy was just sitting next to one another.

But you admit, there was something oddly intimate and heart-breaking about sitting next to someone you've loved with your whole heart and feel nothing but ... weightlessness. Like the burden of your concerns was lifted ever so slightly just being here.

"I wouldn't have made you choose between your relationship or your dream, Yoongi. I would never have done that to you."

Yoongi knew you would never have made him do something as abhorrent as that. You were far too understanding. But you had wanted from him too, that he wasn't willing to provide just yet. He didn't know if it was because of the expiration date to your relationship or because of the stress he was under at work—but he convinced himself that it was you that was asking for too much instead of him compromising too little.

"I ... I know," He whispers, "I'm sorry."

You purse your lips. You try not to let your emotions appear on your sleeve. You were tired of allowing your face to speak before you did. You needed to use the voice you had.

"I loved you so much, Yoongi," You murmur, "I loved you so much that I would have taken anything I could've gotten with you just so I could be with you."

Yoongi stays silent at this.

"I didn't mind if you spent more time at work than at our home. I just wanted to know if I was ever in the picture when you were talking about the future. I know how much you love music and I supported you through every audition and failure ... and to know that I was just—" You swallow, the words still painful to say. But you needed to make your peace with it, "—that I was just someone that would wait for you instead of your partner. That's when I knew that you didn't love me the way I loved you."

Yoongi chokes to speak up but you shake your head.

"No, Yoongi. You loved me, you did. But somewhere along the way you stopped and you just pretended that we were okay even when I was trying my best to fix the seams. I wasn't your girlfriend anymore, I was just someone familiar to you and I didn't deserve to feel that way." You tell him sternly.

Yoongi surrenders to his silence as you take a deep breath to continue.

"Maybe I loved you too much in a way that you couldn't understand."

"_______, don't say that—" His eyes widen when he tries to reach a hand to yours to comfort you, but your body language remains stoic as you keep your hands in your lap.

"—and that's okay Yoongi. I loved you but not in the way you needed. I'm not here to make you feel bad about what I chose to do on my own because it wasn't my fault that I couldn't be what you need." You say sadly, but a small smile on your face as you finally say the words that have been eating at you for months.

"... okay," Yoongi accepts.

"We all have different ways to love and be loved. I loved you and that was enough for you at one point but love isn't all a relationship needs. You loved me too, in your own way and I accepted that but just because it was enough for me doesn't mean it was enough for us." You glance over at him to see him staring at you intently.

"I'm sorry that things turned out this way," Yoongi says softly, eyes gentle.

You wave him off.

"I don't think I'll ever love someone as much as I loved you, though," He confesses, eyes returning to the scene in front of him filled with different colours of life that seemed to look vibrant under the Spring sunset.

You shake your head and chuckle softly.

"You say that now but you'll meet someone one day and you'll remember all the reasons why you love in the first place. And it'll be enough for you, and them."

He shrugs, a small smile itching on his face.

"I really did love you," He says, "But I'm sorry for not being honest with you. I owe you that much of an apology."

"We're not here to forgive or forget, Yoongi," You look at him kindly, "We're here to move on."

He purses his lips and hums, nodding his head.

"I hope you get that promotion at work you were talking about months ago, ______." Yoongi offers, a gentle grin marring his face.

"I did," You shrug.

It feels liberating to have achieved something and only feeling content by acknowledging it yourself. Months ago, you would've hurt at the fact that Yoongi didn't know. But the change you welcomed after the end only showed you that there was a new path for you to walk on.

His eyes widen, but eventually, he chuckles and shakes his head, muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like knew it.

You push yourself off the bench, dusting your hands on your pants as you offer him one last smile before you say goodbye for the second time.

"I hope you find someone who you'll love more than you ever did with me." You tease.

He rolls his eyes.

"Impossible," The grin on his face is easy, and your heart still clenches at the nonchalance, but you don't expect the feeling to go away so easily—nor do you mind. It just shows that you needed to wait and that you were willing to do it.

"Of course you will. You're a musician, Yoongi. You need a muse," You smirk at him as you turn around, a small wave on your hand to say goodbye.

As you walk away and his body gets smaller and smaller from your vision, you turn around to say:

"We don't talk together is a beautiful song."

Yoongi's smile is genuine, and so is his goodbye. A gentle acknowledgment of his hand as he stands up himself, walking to the other direction of where you were headed.

You still had a love for Yoongi, and you suppose you always will. Just like how you would feel pleasant when rediscovering a childhood hobby that triggers a fond memory, or how you love different things in your life in different ways. Whether or not you love someone more than you've ever loved Yoongi isn't your concern, because when love comes in one form, it goes in another.

When you still take the same route you'd usually take with Yoongi after your walks back home, you pass the cafe you used to frequent to see that it's replaced with a new bar. You smile fondly to yourself, shaking your head.

You loved that place.

But eventually, you'll find another cafe with a beautiful interior and a latte to match, and you'll love it too.

[tsrookie]

Always In My Heart

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Alyssa Brooks)

A/N: On today’s episode of ‘I have no idea wtf I’m doing’, we have something that I cooked up because I had terrible WiFi and no other app but Google docs would open up.

Trope: Fluff, but a tiny bit of angst?

Rating: General

Word Count: 2.3K

Warning(s): Mentions of character death

Summary: Their son has a very important question to ask.

——————————

The delicious aroma of chicken and rice wafted through the Brooks-Ramsey household. The couple worked side by side in the kitchen as they had all those years ago, the only difference being that it was now a dinner for five and not just two.

Allison Dolores Brooks-Ramsey came into their lives nine years ago, and while it was earlier than they would have wanted, they didn’t regret a second of their lives ever since they first heard her voice.

The twins on the other hand, were planned, but nothing had prepared them for the chaos that Nathan and Natalie would bring. A new broken object every week, a dozen fights for the TV every day, and yet were nothing short of tiny tornadoes when they joined forces.

It couldn’t be more perfect.

“What time did Jackie and Emilia say that they would bring the girls back?”

“6:30, I think.”

“Ah. So we have time till 7:00.” They shared a knowing smile. Two aunts taking their nine and six year old nieces to the mall meant a complete raid of the toy store, and a new guitar.

“You need to stop letting everyone spoil the girls just because you have a soft spot for them, Ethan. Ally’s grown old enough to understand that she has her daddy wrapped around her finger, and we don’t need Nat coming to that realisation as well.”

“I don’t- I can’t believe you would accuse me of not loving all my children equally!”, he exclaimed in mock offense.

“Mhmm. So why did I have to come up with an explanation to tell Nathan why his dad wasn’t on board with ordering dessert when he asked for it, but relented once his sisters kept bugging him for another five minutes?”

He opened his mouth in protest, but decided against saying anything for his own good. “Well what can I say? They’ve inherited their mother’s persuasiveness. And I can’t really say no to you, can I?”

Alyssa’s lips curved upwards at that. The playful look in her husband’s eyes caused her to finally break into a grin. “At least you’re self-aware.” Stuffing the rice into the bird she added, “But I can’t exactly tell our son that his dad is too in-love with his mom that he sees her in his daughters and hence can’t say no to them. He’d gag in disgust.”

He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her, resting his head in the crook of her neck. “That he would. Alright I’ll try a little harder to resist their charms. Wouldn’t want my only son to end up hating me.” He said it without a hint of worry over it becoming true someday. Over the years, he’d learned to put aside his fears of not being a good father, and with the help of some therapy, and Alyssa’s unwavering love and support, he’d locked up his insecurities in a box and let it sink to the bottom of the ocean.

They took the stuffed chicken and put it in the oven, washed their hands and plopped down on the couch for some rare downtime.

“Crap.”

“Everything okay?”

“Fred’s mom got called in, so she’s dropping Nate off on her way to work.”

Ethan sighed. “There goes the hour I planned to spend with my wife, who I barely get to spend enough time with these days.”

“I swear, you were never this busy when you were chief. I have no idea why my workload’s ten times bigger.”

“I do.” Ethan smiled with pride. “One usually does have a lot of work when they’re at the front lines of the battle for making free healthcare accessible for every single person in the country. My brilliant wife, though she could choose to leave most of the work to her very competent team, opts to take it all upon herself. So that’s probably the cause behind all the extra workload she complains about.”

She smirked and perched herself onto his lap. “Well your very brilliant wife also knows that you called my team very competent just to avoid hurting my feelings, and that you and I both know that they’ll be running around like headless chickens without me taking care of things.”

“I know, love. But you can still make them do a little more instead of working yourself to the bone while still making sure that you have at least one meal with the kids every day.”

She sighed. “Yeah, to make sure that they don’t forget what I look like.” She leaned in closer. “Besides, are we really going to spend our last few minutes of peace talking about work?”

Just as she uttered the words, the door burst open, and Nathan kicked off his shoes and jumped onto the couch as Alyssa slid down from Ethan’s lap. She shot him a look that very clearly meant What did I just say?

Ethan gave her an apologetic look and ruffled his son’s hair. “Hey buddy. How was your day at Fred’s? I know you wanted to spend more time with him.”

“I did, and we were just about to open his new LEGO set when Mrs. Watson told us that she had to run up to her office for some emergency meeting.”, he pouted. “But it was a nice day. We watched Thor: Ragnarok and Luca, and we would’ve watched another movie if his dad didn’t tell us that two movies were enough for a day.”

Alyssa shot him a mildly stern look. “Well he was right. You’re too young to have movie marathons just yet. Two are more than enough, unless you want to have a headache.”

“But mom, I’m not too young! I’m a big boy! I can swing along the monkey bars at the park faster than Natalie, and soon I’ll swing across buildings just like Spider-Man!”

“Well Spider-Man got bitten by a yucky spider before he swung across buildings. Do you want to be bitten by a gross and poisonous spider?”

“Mommy, not all spiders are gross and poisonous. Dad told me that when I was four and got scared of them at the zoo.”

She rolled her eyes. Leave it to her husband to convince her kids that insects were anything short of creepy and disgusting. In reality, they were, but as someone who ran a mile away at the sight of a butterfly, she wasn’t going to accept that.

“That’s right, Nate. Some of them are certainly very poisonous and dangerous, but that doesn’t mean that you should be scared of them. If you maintain your distance and admire them from afar, there should be no problem at all.”, he said with a pointed look at Alyssa, who just huffed in annoyance.

Nathan giggled, his brown eyes lighting up with amusement. He loved watching his parents playfully bicker. It was way better than seeing them- ugh, kiss.

“We were pretending to be superheroes and Fred used his full name for his pretend name cause it sounded cool, and it is. Fredrick Anthony Watson sounds like something from that show you and mom watch with the guys in the stuffy suits.”

“When did you see us watching the show with the guys in the stuffy suits?”, asked Ethan with a slight hint of concern. Whatever he and Alyssa watched on their free nights was definitely not kid-friendly.

“I don’t remember. Maybe a few months ago.”

Their year old puppy, Ivy, woke up from her nap and bounced into the living room to jump onto her favourite person. Nathan squealed with joy as the fluffy hair of the dog tickled his nose.

Ethan and Alyssa smiled at each other. Getting another dog after Jenner was a decision that took a lot of convincing, but their kids were responsible enough and it was impossible to say no after two years of constant pestering.

“Fred told me that he was named after his great-grandfather William, and that he was this really cool guy who saved a bunch of guys from getting mugged in a dark, dark alley.” He turned to look at his parents as Ivy snuggled into his lap. “Who was I named after mom?”

The question caught her off guard, and she glanced at Ethan for backup.

When they knew that they were having a boy, they immediately knew what to name him. They hadn't, however, anticipated Nathan Daniel Brooks-Ramsey to ask such a question this soon.

Seeing his wife at a loss for words, Ethan spoke up. “C’mere Nate.” He pulled him closer and pressed a kiss atop his head. “We once had a friend named Daniel. He worked at the hospital as a nurse, and he was close to your mom and Aunt Sienna when they were interns.”

Having found her voice, Alyssa joined in. “He was an amazing friend. He was the only nurse in the hospital who helped me out when things got messy, and cheered up Aunt Sienna when no one else could. He’d join us for picnics and movie nights, and you could always count on him if you needed something at the hospital.” She took a deep breath, and Ethan nodded. “Things were going well, but then in my second year, something really bad happened.”

“Oh no.”

“There was this bad guy, who wanted his revenge on another bad guy, and he was ready to risk his own life, and the lives of everyone around him to do so.”

“That’s horrible! Who would want to do something like that?”

Ethan smiled wistfully. “A lot of people in this world actually do. You’re a good person, so you know that it’s wrong. But some people aren’t, and they don’t care about other people getting hurt because of their actions. That night at the hospital, Danny tried to tell the bad guy that it was wrong, and to think things through. But he didn’t listen, and did something that hurt both himself, Danny, Uncle Raf, another friend of ours, and your mom.”

His little eyebrows creased with worry, Nathan asked, “What happened then?”

“He… he died. Along with our other friend, Bobby. Do you remember what we once told you about an autopsy?” Nathan nodded his head. “Well Danny asked for his body to be autopsied, and thanks to him, we were able to find out what was wrong with mom and Uncle Raf.”

He fell silent for a moment, remembering the horrors of the day, and how eternally grateful he was to Danny for being the reason he didn’t lose everything. He couldn’t imagine a life without the love of his life and his children, and he wouldn’t have either if not for the sacrifices that were made.

He looked up at Alyssa, and she squeezed his hand in support. “We’ll tell you more when you’re older, but to make it short, you’re named after a hero too. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have you, your sisters, or mom here with me.”

Nathan wriggled out of his dad’s arms, and set Ivy down so he could hug his mom as tightly as he could.

“Well… if you can hear me Mr. Daniel, I just wanna thank you. Thanks for saving my mom. I love her so much and I’m so thankful that I got to meet her because of what you did. I wish I could’ve met you, you sound like a really cool person, and I’m sure you were. So yeah, thanks. A lot.”

Alyssa’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears, and she held her son as she expressed her silent thanks along with Ethan.

What they had was precious.

Fifteen years had passed since they first met, and yet each day they fell in love a little more like they did when they held hands for the first time in the dim light of the NICU watching over little Ethan, or when she finally got to see the real him the first time she visited his place; the first time in years he let someone know a little of the worries residing deep in his heart.

With all the odds against them, it was a miracle that they survived, even more so that they managed to raise three perfect children who had more love to share than they could ever comprehend.

And they’d never forget all the reasons that made it possible for them to survive.

Ding!

The timer on the oven went off, and they got to their feet to get the chicken.

“Was he a good cook dad?”

“I… don’t really know, Nate. Your mom knew him better than I did.”

“Well there was this one time where he helped Aunt Sienna bake an amazing cake, so I guess he knew his way around the kitchen.”, Alyssa recollected fondly. It was for Jackie’s birthday, one of the few nights where the competition was completely forgotten about.

Nathan’s face melted into a glowing smile. “I love cake. So I guess I really would’ve loved him.”

She mirrored his radiant expression. “You definitely would’ve.”

“Why don’t you go play with Ivy while mom and I get the food ready? You can help us with the dessert later.”

“We’re having dessert?!”

Ethan grinned at his son’s excitement. “You bet we are.”

“Yay!” They watched as Nathan ran off to go play fetch with Ivy in their enormous backyard.

Ethan pulled Alyssa in for a sweet, lingering kiss as soon as he was out of sight.

“You’ve been wanting to do that for a while now hmm?”

“Something like that.”, he murmured as they broke apart.

She could see the ever-increasing strands of silver in his brown hair, and the faint wrinkles along the sides of his forehead, but his clear blue eyes were just as loving and devoted as she remembered from over a decade ago.

“We have a pretty good life, don’t we?”

Ethan kissed her again. “No, we have the perfect life.”

——————————

A/N 2: Aaaand I’m going MIA again. Honestly though, to everyone who’s read so far, thank you so much for sticking around. Means the world💙

P.S: I finally chose Chyler Leigh as my face claim!

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[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Five

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

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

Part 5 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

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

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

Word Count: 16,500+

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

~

Westview, 2023, 1:32 pm

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

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

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

“Wanda, it’s us…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let us help you grieve.”

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

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

“They would have had a beautiful life together.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve?”

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

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

Present Day, 2025, 8:10 am

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But was your life ever truly yours?

Steve’s voice pulled you from your clouded mind. 

“Huh?” 

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

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

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

Ridiculous. 

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

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

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

    “He’s what?”

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

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

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

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

“What if she doesn’t like me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did we miss all the fun?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Loki and you shared a comical gasp. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Should we order pizza or chinese?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Personal feelings aside, Y/N.”

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

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

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

“Leaning towards the first option?”

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

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

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

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

“It’s probably for growing the products.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Torres sent us an update on White.”

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

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

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

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

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

Steve nodded in agreement, “Looks like it.”

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

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

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

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

“She at the estate?”

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

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

“That long?” Steve questioned. 

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

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

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

“A full house, sounds like.”

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

“Was it a threat?”

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

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

“He protected you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop bullying!” Steve laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You better. Catch me up, please?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You rolled your eyes, “Mmm.”

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

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

Steve's eyes widened, “Is she…?”

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

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

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

“That’s why I asked!”

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

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

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

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

“This is actually really damning evidence.”

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

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

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

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

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

Steve glared, “Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

“You’re literally asking that?”

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

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

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

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

“Someone paid them off. Or killed them.”

“I wonder who,” you replied sarcastically. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Course you did.”

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

“Easy peasy!” you cheered. 

“Bucky and Sam gonna meet us Friday night?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve tilted his head, “In Northern California?”

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

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

“Some nice Italian restaurant an hour out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Breadsticks. Garlic pasta. More breadsticks.”

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

“Three-cheese pastas.”

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

“Unlimited breadsticks.”

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

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

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

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

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

Peter: it’s Wednesday! Who died?

Wanda: she’s literally texting us

Peter: Y/N, you won???

Bucky: fuck do I owe the fucking spider money?

Peter: pay up dude

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

      “You sure you two are good?”

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

“Thought you said this was a restaurant?”

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

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

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

“Not every place has bad guys!”

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

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

“While on a mission?”

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

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

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

“Next.”

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

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

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

You rolled your eyes, “Wait.”

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

“Cap-Captain?”

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

“Enjoying your day?”

You pinched your nose. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve answered almost triumphantly, “Uh, Superman?”

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

He shrugged, “I quite like our relationship.”

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

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

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

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

He accepted that, and handed you the menu. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bet she loved him.”

“See?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Was Bucky scared?”

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

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

“Steve…”

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

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

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

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

 “...Where’s your mother?”

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

“It’s not a happy story.”

There wasn’t much of a story anyway. 

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

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

“Not really much to get rid of.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And your father?”

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s awful.”

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

“Where is he now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m so sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You got a thing against bad breath?”

“Take the mint.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve snickered, “You ruined the moment.”

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

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

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

“Hey, you guys finished? Getting dessert?”

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

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

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

Scott ordered so much dessert. 

So much. 

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

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

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

“Woohoo!”

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

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

You blinked away the dryness, “Dude!”

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

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

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

You would indulge in this childishness once. 

Once. 

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

Scott leaned over and turned it up higher. 

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

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

Both of you sang, “Bom!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, Steve Rogers never ran. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A gesture of approval. 

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

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

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

Your Captain. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      “Anyone wanna start?”

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

And he had to do this for Sam. 

“My divorce was finalized yesterday.”

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

“I’m sorry, Michael.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve blushed, head tilting downward. 

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

Steve sat and listened, his nerves settling. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A few winces sounded around the circle. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You and Steve aren’t friends?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve hummed in response, “Want a lift?”

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

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

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

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

“Steve?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nope. 

Nope. 

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

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

As simple as that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve, please do something.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m good.”

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

[michaels-blackhat]

no need to argue | michael/maria, break-up re-write

this is none of the things I said I was going to write, but it’s been sitting in my folder for months and it’s easier to finish than everything else.

-

“I would have done the same for you.” He insisted, gripping her hands tight in his. She watched as his face grew stern, almost defiant.

She shook off his left hand so that hers could be free. “No,” she said, sad but certain, “you wouldn’t have.”

“You don’t know that.” He said. She pushed a curl from his eyes, that stubborn one that was as unruly as he was.

“Yes, I do.” She knew she had her psychic face on, the one Rosa said was so obvious to the outside world but Maria was sure was subtle. She knew it was true. She could feel that it was true. He’d do so much for her, just not something that would risk Isobel and Max too. “And that’s ok Michael. It’s ok. Not every relationship is meant to be forever.”

“Maria, please-” She gently pressed her finger to his lips.

“Michael, don’t react. Don’t let me being in the hospital influence you. Think about the last few weeks.” She looked at him, face serious, no psychic face. “You put up a good front at CrashCon, but I know better.” He looked away. “Tell me the truth, how much longer would we have lasted?”

“I would have tried, Maria, you have to know I wouldn have done anything-” He cut himself off.

“I know Michael, that’s part of the problem. You would have tried and you would have ignored what you wanted.”

“Ok, then what do I want?”

“A family? Kids? The suburban American dream?”

He turned his head back towards her. She already knew she was right.

He swallowed. “So this isn’t about Alex?” He asked, voicing the one thing they never really spoke about. Sure, they talked about Alex all the time. Alex, who was quickly turning into Michael’s best friend, the person he turned to for help. Alex was her friend too, always would be, but their closeness suffered through deployments and dating, if she was being honest. There was never a question about it, if she needed him he’d come and she’d always be there for him, but their friendship had turned into something light and easy. Maybe it was just a reaction to what they both needed- Alex an escape from his family history and Maria an escape from discovering hers.

She shook her head.

He sighed and then leaned back into his chair. His hands let go of her hand so he could rub at his eyes.

“I never wanted you to think I was choosing you because I couldn’t have him,” he said, hands still covering his face.

“I never thought that, Michael.”

He nodded, though she wasn’t sure he agreed. 

He sighed again. “You’re so wonderful, you know that?” He finally asked after a minute. “You’re beautiful and cunning and caring. It was hard not to want you, to want to be around you. And then I got to know you, really, and you were more than I ever imagined you could be.” He finally looked at her. “I know that there were things we didn’t agree about, but I thought ‘you know what? It’s not what I imagined but that’s ok’.” 

He had tears in his eyes. Maria couldn’t lean forward far enough to wipe the one that fell on his cheek.

“You know, you were exactly what I needed?” He asked. She nodded.

“You were what I needed too.”

He kept his distance from her. She’d have to start getting used to that. He had the look on his face, the one that said he had something to say but didn’t actually want to say it. She’d been seeing it a lot recently, particularly when she and Isobel practiced her powers. Honestly, she had seen it before then too. She just hadn’t known what it meant. Now she knew, he was holding back what he knew she didn’t want to hear.

“It’s ok Michael, you can tell me.”

“You know that Alex came to me, after Noah’s funeral.” The ‘before we really started’ went unsaid. “I told him that I never say no to him, I just do what he wants and does as he says.” He picked at the bandana on his left hand. “It’s not really a him thing, it’s a me thing. I can’t say no to people- to him, to Izzy, to Max.” He took a deep breath. “I can’t say no to you either, Maria.”

Maria didn’t say anything. She bit her tongue, thinking of the bracelet, her powers, and his feelings on them. She had told him he could tell her; she had told him he didn’t need to hold back. She looked back at him. He still had tears in his eyes. Maria let herself reflect, instead of react. It seemed like reacting was all she had done for so long, just pushing herself through as life threw her one curveball after the next, one more problem she had to will herself through. It had been her life for years now, mercilessly pushing herself through everything, doing everything she could to take care of her mom, to not resent her friends their freedom, to stay put. She was a mercenary woman playing at being a nurturer. 

She motioned for Michael to continue. She never really noticed how often he just waited for her cue. 

“I think you’re right,” he said after a moment. He was still too far away for her to reach his hand. “Not every relationship is supposed to be forever.” He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “I noticed it, you know? How could I not? I wanted to talk, to be deeper, to know more. And you didn’t. I let it go. I was too thrilled you gave me another chance. And I felt like, maybe I could say no to you. We disagreed plenty. I’m realizing now that that wasn’t true. I’m too scared of losing you to actually do that.”

Michael grew quiet. “I never wanted to talk,” Maria admitted, as if either of them didn’t know. “You’d bring something up, I’d distract you.”

“I’d let you distract me.”

Maria shook her head. “I could see it, you know? You wanted to.” She sighed. “I guess that was part of the whole ‘scared of losing me’ thing, huh?”

Michael nodded. They stayed quiet for a moment. “I thought I wanted something light and easy, after everything.” Michael shrugged and gestured to nothing. “It was my first real, long-term relationship.” He looked off into the distance again. “I don’t think I’m made for light and easy, not if it’s going to last more than a few nights. So yeah, I think you’re right. The thing you haven’t actually said yet.”

“And what’s that Michael?”

He finally met her eyes.

“That we’re over.” He smiled at her, the same heartbroken smile she remembered from that morning they had kissed, that morning where she thought they were starting. She understood that smile more now, didn’t remember it in the haze of her own happiness and hope.

“We’re over,” she agreed. She took a deep breath. “This doesn’t mean that I don’t love you.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t think you didn’t. This doesn’t mean I don’t love you either. And it doesn’t mean I don’t want to be there for you still. You’re important to me.”

“You’re important to me too. That’s not going to change.”

At that, he finally leaned close enough to touch. She took his hand. He squeezed hers gently. They sat in silence for a few minutes until the nurse knocked on the door.

“Maria,” he said, “you have another visitor.”

“Okay,” she called back. “You can send them in.”

Michael let go of her hand and stood up. “I’ll let them have your undivided attention. I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?”

She nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

He moved to the door, almost bumping into Alex.

“Sorry Alex,” he said as he moved through the door.

“Michael, what’s---” but Michael didn’t turn back.  

Maria could see Alex’s face. She knew he saw the tears still in Michael’s eyes. She knew he’d see the tears stains on her cheeks once he was close enough.

He moved quickly through the room and took the chair Michael had just left. He moved it closer to the bed.

“Maria, what’s wrong?” She shook her head. “Seriously, I can see how upset you both are.”

She shook her head again. “Nothing’s wrong Alex.”

“Then why are you crying?” He reached for her hand.

“Just because something is emotional, doesn’t mean it’s bad.” He looked at her, then leaned forward to wipe a tear from her cheek. “We broke up--” she started, but he cut her off.

“Okay, that’s ok. I can fix that. I’ll go talk some sense into him, it’s fine--”

“No Alex.” She let herself laugh a little as she silenced him, the same way she had silenced Michael earlier. “There’s nothing wrong. He and I broke up. We both agreed it was time.”

Alex shook his head. Maria let her finger drop from his lips. “But you guys were so good together.” He argued. She laughed again.

“We were what each other needed at the moment. So yes, it was good. It wasn’t going to last Alex.”

“I can fix this Maria,” he argued again.

“There’s nothing to fix Alex. We don’t want the same things.” She watched his face carefully as she said it. “I don’t want a family. I don’t want kids. I don’t want someone tying me down like that.”

Alex’s face was tight. “Did always dream of a big family. He used to talk about getting a dog. I kinda thought..” This time he cut himself off. “So that’s it? You guys go from being the perfect couple to nothing?”

“We were never perfect and you know it. If we were, we wouldn’t have ignored everything that wasn’t.” She laughed again. “I can’t believe I have to talk you into accepting this break up more than I had to talk him into it.” She pulled him into a hug. He let him.

“He’s bad at saying no to the people he cares about.”

“He mentioned that too. I think that’s what tipped him off. He never said no to me either, never pushed me either. Never really asked me for anything.”

“He does that,” Alex said, still wrapped up in her arms. She wasn’t going to let go any time soon. She may be okay with it, but she still did just break up with her first serious boyfriend in years. “Are you really ok Maria?” He asked, as if he was the psychic between them.

“I will be,” she said as she drew him in closer. She finally let him go. “Now, as my best friend, it’s your job to distract me from my heartbreak.”

Alex sat back in the chair. “Ok, what do you want to know?”

Maria smiled. “Tell me about the songs you’re writing.”

Alex protested, but Maria knew he’d tell her. They’d always have each other. They’d all be okay.

[uwuwriting]

How they propose w/ Oikawa, Iwaizumi and Kuroo

Request: Oikawa, kuro and iwa proposing to their long term girlfriend??? -anonymous

Hi it’s me back again. *if anyone knows from which song this is I’m gonna give them a cookie no cap*. I’m back with another one and this one is just the cutest thing ever. Oikawas’ is a little dumb and goofy but I believe he would do something like that. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist

rules 

warning: fluff and some dorkiness. 

Oikawa Toru

-Okay so he is obsessed with tik tok....and his proposal kinda made it on tik tok. 

-Its a nice cutesy proposal I swear he’s just overly proud of himself. 

-You had just moved in with him in Argentina. 

-Somehow you managed to get a job in your field in the town next to his place so when you told him that well you were moving to Argentina he didn’t hesitate to ask you to move in with him. 

-He misses you way too much, the distance makes it hard for him to feel your comfort. 

-He would never dream of breaking up with you; he would make it work even if it killed him.

-So it’s been a month and a half of living together and he is in heaven. 

-He knew that he wanted to marry you for some time now. 

-Since that moment at the airport the day he was leaving. 

-Iwaizumi was there along side Matsu and Hanamaki. 

-The three dumbasses were bawling their eyes out while you were semi chocking him. 

- “Call me when you land okay? I wanna know how jet lagged you feel.” 

-The sad smile on your face was enough to make him spill them tears, a sad smile of his own taking its seat on his face. 

- “You’ll make fun of me again.”

- “It’s part of my duties as your girlfriend you beautiful dumbass.” 

-And right there with you hands on either of his cheeks and tears in your eyes he knew that he would wife you up. 

-Now he has been planning this for some time. 

-He went all the way to California to find Iwa so they could pick a ring together.

-Both of them needed a ring but anyways.

-After obtaining the ring....he hid it for a few weeks. 

-He would wake up everyday ten minutes earlier than usual and just ask you to marry him while you were still asleep. 

-Once he was satisfied with the amount of times he has said it he gets up and is out the door. 

-He took you to meet his team.

-he wanted to do it then but he chickened out. 

-So what does he do? 

-He sulks on tik tok. 

-Until he comes across a video of a girl stepping into the shower with her boyfriend and pretends that she wants to ask him something important. 

-Of course that was a very dumb way to ask you something so big but he got an adrenaline jump and five minutes of dumb courage. 

-He sets up his phone right outside the shower curtain and just walks in with you. 

- “Hi?!”

- “Hi”

-*giggles* “Can I help you mister?”

-And here is where things take a turn because doubts start to make their way into his head and his palms are getting sweaty-

- “Toru love are you alright?”

- “Marry me.”

-The video went viral, the squad clowned him until your first child was born and your kids laugh with the story till this day. 

Iwaizumi Hajime 

-Unlike his best friend he took this wayyyy to chill. 

-It popped up in his head one night before one of your visits. 

-His roommate had asked him why he stayed in a long distance relationship. 

- “Is she really so worth it man? You could have a chick in your bed every night and not wait for her visits every three months.” 

- “You cannot imagine how worth it she is.”

 - “You sound like you wanna marry her dude.” 

-And from that point on he couldn’t get it out of his head. 

-Sure he had imagined your future before.

-The house you’ll have and where he would like to go on your honeymoon, what your kids might look like and what kind of mom you would be. 

-But all of it was pure speculation. 

-He just wanted to see how it would feel to be so domestic. 

-So here he is almost a whole year after that night, choosing a ring along side Oikawa. 

-This dumbass had taken the decision to get married too quickly and had called Iwa very VERY panicky and in need of some comfort.

-They both picked their respective rings and hid the velvety boxes deep in their pockets, the two best friends saying their goodbyes and heading off to their missions. 

-Now Iwa wanted this to be as lass forced and too thought out as possible. 

-He believes that these things are best  done in privacy and only netween the two partners. 

-So he doesn’t plan anything out. 

-He waits for the moment when it feels right. 

-And that’s why it took him over a year to actually ask you. 

-Of course it wasn’t such an improptu move like Oikawas’, he was a little less tik tok-y??? 

-You had ordered tak out and were eating in your shared apartment. 

-After graduation you got transferred to the USA and were placed near Iwa so now just like Oikawa you lived together. 

-It has been a nice calm year of just domesticated fluff. 

-You were telling him about your day, how one of your co-workers ate your boss’s pretchel and they flipped.

-Or how you saw a dog dressed as a hotdog right next to a hotdog stand. 

-And that’s when he just drops the bomb. 

-He has been keeping the small velevt box in his pocket ever since he bought it. 

-Wordlessly standing up he makes his way to your side of the table and drops to one knee. 

- “I’m pretty sure you know already that I believe you are my soulmate. My other half and I couldn’t begin to imagine my life without you in it. Not even a month without you. That being said, it would make me the happiest man in the world if you would give me the honor of calling you Ms. Iwaizumi. For the rest of our lives; until we are old and wrinkly with our family running around us. Y/N L/N, will you marry me?”

-You were crying at this point, nodding your head since the moment he called you his other half. 

-Of course you said yes and some bomb sex followed.

-Oikawa and his now wife, were so happy to hear that Iwa finally gathered the courage to ask you.

Kuroo Tetsuro 

-Baby!!!!

-He may be nasty but he is my og husband. 

-Actually my second og husband. 

-The first one is Akaashi. 

-He bought the ring the same day he decided to ask you. 

-He had been in a meeting and he was bored out of his mind so he texted you. 

-You two started off by making fun of each other and ended up playing one of those dumb facebook games. 

-He was letting out small giggles here and there which mind you were barely audible but the guy next to him heard them alrtight. 

- “Talking with the missus eh?”

-Kuroo couldn’t control himself when he answered. 

- “Yeah.”

-His coworker let out a chuckle at the sight of Kuroo’s face of surprise at his own words. 

- “It was about time you wifed her. You two are so in love it almost makes me jealous.”

- “Jealous that you don’t have a beating heart Kai?” 

-He got slapped....moving on. 

-So with that he called you once the meeting was over and informed you of his plans for tonight. 

- “Get dressed baby I’m taking you out for dinner tonight.”

- “What’s the occassion mister?”

- “It’s something special. Be ready by 9 I’ll pick you up from our apartment. Oh and could you please wear that gorgeous red dress of yours?”

- “The satin one? The one I can’t wear a bra with?”

- “You without a bra is just a bonus baby.” 

- “You are a horny idiot Tetsu.”

-Now he was out on a mission. 

-The mission of the ring. 

-So he needed to call on the fellowship. 

-Thirty minutes later Kenma, Yaku and Daichi were waiting for him at the local Starbucks. 

-Alas the fellowship of the ring. 

-These four idiots could barely agree on a single thing. 

-Gave the shopkeepers a headache. 

-But finally FINALLY they decided on one. 

-Patting their friend on the back they were off, hoping that you would say yes. 

-Apart from Kenma who prayed to the rain gods that you finally open your eyes and see what you are dating. 

-While at the restaurant he was quieter than usual. 

-He would let you talk and talk and talk about everything and anything with giving you only small nods or hums. 

-He was so caught up in his head that he couldn’t see th worry in your eyes. 

-  “Tetsu, is everything okay? “

-And there was his oportunity. 

- “Actually something is kinda bothering me and you are the only one who can help.” 

-He slowly got up and made his way to your side. 

- “You remember a few months back when you joked about us getting married? Or that other time when you said that I would make a great dad? Well I guess tonight will determine all of that.”

-He kneeled down and opened the small box rubbing your knee with his other hand. 

- “Y/N L/N will you help me make those dreams reality?”

-Kenma disapproves. 

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