#he knows he’ll be seen from far away and hes skilled enough for it to be a death sentence instead of a give away

[s0fter-sin]

mermay idea

mers keep their faces covered as a way to indicate social status and familiarity. warriors have intricate masks, handcrafted when they win their first battle and the more detailed a mask is, the more accomplished the wearer is. they're rarely shed and are only taken off for their closest kin and mates

warrior bull shark mer!soap seeing human!ghost, seeing his skull mask and immediately knowing he's a high ranking warrior; one to be feared going off the numerous scars covering his body

an ideal and worthy mate, so long as he can prove his prowess

so he follows him as he's deployed on a mission near the ocean and is smitten when he sees how ruthless and capable he is; bathing himself in his enemies blood. he keeps his distance, not wanting to tempt fate but ghost spies the tip of his fin cutting through the water

and he's nothing if not an opportunist; kicking the bodies off the pier to the waiting jaws below

but soap? all he sees is the first step in a courting ritual

and he has to come up with something truly brilliant to match such a glorious offering

on ghost's part, it's been difficult getting people to understand the depths of his dependence on his mask. price thinks it's something to overcome, gaz and other soldiers just think it's an accessory to help with intimidation

the few partners he's tried to have thought he was someone to "fix"; nothing more than an object, a notch on their belt to prove how "good" of a partner they were to put in so much work to make him better. it always leaves him feeling violated, more so than if they'd just taken his mask off outright. one night stands were hardly worth it either; scratching a physical itch but falling so short of the intimacy and connection he craves that he feels worse off than he'd started

when he finally meets the mer that's been hunting him across the country, sees the bright red mask so artfully hewn and attached to his face?

it's like looking at a reflection of himself

he might have finally found the understanding he's been searching for

[stoutguts]

Ghoap 💀🧼 relationship dynamic HC (shall we?)

Simon "Ghost" Riley is no scaredy-cat.

The man has been through hell on Earth, survived torture, abuse,—and being buried alive for fuck’s sake. They managed,—even after everyone he loved was taken from him. Has been through countless tense and anxiety inducing situations throughout their military career.

But Ghost has nerves of steel, excellent control over his emotions, and naturally that’s why it’s so damn good at its job.

Though…there is one thing that scares the shit out of them. Soap.

Simon thought he was all big and bad,—intimidating,—until he met John “Soap” MacTavish.

Johnny is only around half its size, yet he manages to be even scarier than Ghost somehow. Which is wild, considering one of them looks like the damn grim reaper with that skull mask of theirs.

Simon may have a reputation for “the guy you don’t wanna mess with”, to the point where people won’t even bother with them.—But Soap’s got more than a few screws loose himself.

New recruits and others will at least approach him,—but with serious caution, and are careful to watch their mouths around him.

His anger is explosive, fitting, for a demolitions expert. A total loose cannon when he wants to to be. Some recruits even refer to him as “the psycho Scot” or "Ghost's guard dog". Titles he takes to with pride.

Johnny’s known for putting people in their place, and with every fight he’s ever gotten into,—he’s always won. Often sending his opponents to medical.

Most of the time though, he just has to look at someone and it scares them shitless. He’s mastered his death glare, and it even sends shivers up Ghost’s spine.

The man’s a total gym rat and health nut, nothing but muscle, and he trains the most of anyone Simon has ever seen. Works out constantly, and loves to get his body moving. He can never simply sit still, and being active actually helps him to clear his head and blow off steam. Always keeping track of his calories, weighing out his portions, and whatnot,—with a pescatarian and vegetarian lifestyle. He’s also a nature lover and tree hugger,—loves to go on hikes or go camping in his spare time. He’s naturally a reigning champ when it comes to hand to hand combat, and is a highly skilled fighter, in fact, he specializes in it. He’s capable of taking out tangos with nothing but his fists alone. He even beats Simon to a pulp on the sparring mats most of the time. (Ghost may like him beating the snot out of him more than they than would like to admit…)

Soap is used for interrogations, (as he also just so happens to be an interrogation expert). He’s morally bankrupt just enough,—to where he’ll do just about anything to get answers out of someone. Whether it involves violence or not.

Simon has seen the sheer extent of the injuries sustained by the poor bastards that were stupid enough to challenge him, that pissed him off, or that he’s extracted information out of—and that was enough for Ghost.

He recalls that one time he directly witnessed Johnny, feigning calmness, take a recruit’s hand in his, then proceed to snap the guy’s thumb clean in half in one fluid motion. (The recruit had decided to wolf whistle at him when he was walking over to Ghost,—after their duties had wrapped up regarding training the newbies).

Simon is a smart man, and knows when to pick his battles. Soap being the battle he most certainly knows NOT to pick.

Although Johnny is more lenient with Ghost than other people, and lets them get away more,—Simon’ll be damned if it ends up on the receiving end of Soap’s wrath.

I really like the idea of Soap being the dominating one in the relationship, but Ghost not being entirely submissive either.

Like Simon can and will be the one to put him in HIS place, and snap him back to reality. Though still allows him his fun.

While Johnny relies on Ghost to let him know when he’s “too much” or taking things too far,—allows himself to be muzzled. Making a point to let Simon have the control, at least every now and then. Of course, while challenging Ghost’s authority a healthy amount and protesting the whole time.

Both try to be as respectful as possible of the other’s needs and desires, while also "maintaining their roles". But both are effectively switches, whether it's in the bedroom or not, and mainly put up this dom and sub act for other people and for their own amusement. They have no fixed roles, truly.

SOAP BEING JUST AS MENTALLY FUCKED AS GHOST MY BELOVED

thanks for coming to my Ted talk

(Also, the tidbit about Soap snapping a recruit’s thumb in half is actually based on a family member of mine’s story. Basically, my older sister had this guy pour water down the back of her shirt in high school, and in response, she straight up broke his thumb/snapped it in half lmao).

[sstormyskyess]

Self-Doubts

author's note: wanted to explore some of the insecurities these fellas would have to get a better feel for how to write them!

cw: hurt/comfort, body image issues, domestic situations, anxiety

word count: 1900+

TF-141 x GN!Reader

Simon “Ghost” Riley [body image]

♡ Ghost is aware that he’s an attractive man. He’s been told as much for most of his life and people tend to put themselves out there for him, so he’s always figured there must be something to him that causes it.

♡ But only he had seen the body under all the layers of black clothing he often covers himself with. His body is more scars than unblemished skin, an eternal reminder that he was beyond saving.

♡ That’s why, when you wormed your way into his lacerated heart, he was hesitant to undress around you. He didn’t want you to see the man underneath the shell of the impenetrable “Ghost,” the man that kept his trauma on a tight leash and hid away from his true self.

Simon shuffles forward further down the bathtub to let you settle in behind him, your thighs resting on his hips. His heart is pounding in his chest, as it often did when he was bare in front of you. Despite the warmth of the bath you’d run for the both of you, a shiver travels up his spine when your hands wrap around his chest.

“You still okay, Si?” You rest your cheek on his back, keeping your hands still over his stomach. All he gives you is a hum, so you prompt again, “I need words, hun.” He responds with a shallow nod and, with a slight shake in his voice, “I’m alright, love.” You nuzzle your cheek against his spine in response, a silent reminder that he’s here, with you.

Things were still for a while, the only sound being the leaky faucet you still needed to get fixed dripping into the bath. You quietly paw at his stomach and move slowly up his chest, tracing over his scars as you did. You halt before you start to kiss the scars on his shoulder blades, the ones that you’ve committed to memory.

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when you take hold of one of his hands, pulling it up far enough that you could see it over his shoulder. There was one big scar across his palm that he received in the times before he started wearing gloves to cover his calloused hands. You always came back to it; it was one of the most clear signifiers of his journey through his career, and you loved to appreciate anything and everything that showed you his path before meeting you.

He watches you regard the scar, able to see the face you always make when you admire his body like this. He smiled at the thought and some of the tension in his muscles left. He took your other hand and brought it up to his lips to place a kiss on your knuckles, returning the affection you so graciously gave him.

John “Soap” Mactavish [his future]

♡ Soap has been in his field of work for around eight years and he’s made his way through hell time and time again. He’s a skilled operator and with that comes many dangerous situations, often life or death.

♡ But really, he wants to make it far enough in life to retire and return to civilian society, far away from the turmoil that tainted him day and night, 24/7. The worst part is that he knows it’s unlikely he’ll make it that far.

♡ It got worse when he met you and you solidified in his mind that his true goal was making it to a calm life, free of gunfire, constant deployment, and all of the other struggles that came with a job like his.

“Aye. Love you too, mum.” Johnny hangs up the call and puts his phone on the coffee table with a sigh. His mom was calling to let him know that his sister was going to be having a baby shower in a month or so; his niece’s birth was just around the corner, expectedly two months from now.

Hearing about the lives of his family members makes him feel so selfish sometimes. He knows it’s silly and that he shouldn’t be worrying so much about it, but he just can’t seem to help it. Even when he knows you’re just a room away, making some dinner for the both of you, he can’t help but think about what life could be like were he living the life the rest of his family was. He gets up and looks over to the kitchen before making his way over.

You jump when you feel Johnny’s arms wrap around your waist. He buries his head against your neck and presses some soft kisses there. “Hi, baby. What do you need?” You smile and reach back to run your fingers through his messy overgrown mohawk, earning you a pleased hum. He rests his chin on your shoulder to watch you cooking, a warmth in his heart swelling at the domesticity. “Do you think we’d ever get married, dove?” He asks, rocking you two back and forth gently.

You blink, surprised by the sudden question. “I wouldn’t be opposed. You’re the best guy I could ever hope to be with the rest of my life.” Your smile widens as your mind wanders to the life you and Johnny could live together. Johnny’s soft, dreamy sigh brushes along your neck and it feels like his posture slumps forward just a bit in relief, your words soothing his stormy thoughts. “I’ll keep that in mind, bonnie.”

Standing there in the comfortable silence with you only solidified in his mind that he wanted to be there with you for the rest of his life. All he wanted to do in that moment and every moment after was take care of you, to make you feel safe.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick [perfectionism]

♡ Gaz knows how important the role he plays is. His work furthered the safety of civilians the world round, and he knows he’s good at it.

♡ But along with knowing the importance of his work was a double-edged sword; he knew that if he ever faltered or failed his mission, people would die as a result. The screams of civilians echoed in his mind every few nights he tried settling in for bed, his mind much too overactive for his own good.

♡ Overworking himself was a consequence of his troubled thoughts. He would be lifting in the gym until his muscles gave out on him, firing in the range for hours into the night, running laps around the base, all to your dismay as you watched him work himself half to death.

Kyle’s lungs heave as he bends over with his hands on his knees. You had followed him when he got out of bed earlier tonight and he apologized profusely for waking you up. He’s been on the treadmill for an hour, going on an hour and a half. You stare at him, concerned out of your mind.  You’d long since stopped your own workout, the weights left on the rack and a bottle of water in hand.

This was the third time in the past week he’d subjected himself to this self-flagellating exercise schedule. You knew why; this past mission was quite the disaster. Too much destruction, too many civilian casualties, and an escaped terrorist was a perfect combination to make Kyle’s mind run wild with disappointment in himself. He was an empathetic individual and it always came back to bite him after missions like this.

You aren’t sure whether or not he noticed you in here with him, so when you got up to approach him you walked with purposeful steps, loud enough to alert him to your presence. His head perked up and he turned to look at you. He cursed under his breath after wiping his forehead with the towel slung over his shoulder and stepped off the treadmill.

“Sweetheart, I said you could go back to bed.” He frowned when he met your eyes, seeing the exhaustion in them but not realizing that you saw the same exhaustion in his. “Someone needed to drag you back once you eventually collapsed.” You mutter, looking away. You didn’t want to be frustrated with him; you knew that he couldn’t help it. But seeing him with his legs nearly buckling under his own weight hurt your heart. “I’m okay, I promise—”

He’s cut off by your sigh and you take him by the hand to drag him over to the nearest bench, sitting him down. “You’re not okay. I’m getting your stuff and we’re going back to bed.” You state matter-of-factly before walking off to do just that. He knew that you were miffed, but it still felt good to know you had his back.

John Price [his relationships]

♡ Price is a busy man; he’s the captain of a private task force, of course he was. His work basically consumed his entire life, with no room for much else.

♡ Friends and romantic partners were pie in the sky for him, and he sometimes wondered if he would be able to maintain a healthy relationship with anyone outside of work. He had tried before and every time, it ended with things falling apart and him leaving someone broken hearted.

♡ His worries were quelled when you made friends with him and eventually entered a romantic relationship, but still, he was concerned with balancing his relationship with you and his relationship with his work. Sometimes, he wondered if he was even strong enough to pull both sides of himself together into one man.

John picks up the dinner plate that you made for him a few hours ago. It had gotten cold by now, the plastic cling wrap around the plate having settled over the food and sticking loosely to it. He sighs and peels it off, turning to the microwave to reheat the plate. He leans back against the counter and stares at the floor, his thoughts crowding every corner of his mind.

You were already in bed, sleeping soundly. At least he hoped. You had asked him a couple times to come to bed, but he insisted he needed to finish the mission reports he was writing. Every time he pulled this little maneuver, he thought back to every other time he condemned you to going to bed cold. The frown on his face deepens, imagining how you looked right now. Maybe you actually weren’t asleep and were still up waiting for him. The thought made him feel so guilty.

He doesn’t have to dwell on it much longer before he sees you sleepily wander into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing your eyes. John pushes himself off the counter and meets you halfway, resting his hands on your hips. “Head back to bed, doll. I’ll be there soon.” He mumbles the words into the top of your head before putting a kiss there. You shake your head and nuzzle deeper into his hold.

“I’m sorry I woke you up.” He runs one of his hands up and down your spine, the other moving to the small of your back. You hold onto his shirt and take a peek up at him. “It’s okay.” You give him a small smile, trying to soothe his worries. He does so much and you know it was all for you, a fact that warms your heart.

“Come sit and eat your food, hon’.” He huffs a little laugh and nods, taking his plate out of the microwave and picking you up. You giggle and kiss his cheek, letting him carry you to the couch. You let him turn on the TV and settle you in his lap. “Were you dreaming, love?” He asks before starting to eat. Neither of you pay much attention to whatever’s on the screen after that, him listening intently to you recounting your dreams.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Valentine's Day, Shana!

Can we get more from F is for Frankenstein? Or more 3 faced Goddess? (More of the Iron Man stuff basically. I don't even really go there anymore, but your writing is so great)

a continuations of 1 2 3 4

The thing is, Rhodey would actually prefer it if Tony didn’t come for them, if he didn’t risk his life by walking into what is so obviously a trap meant to kill him, even if it meant both he and Steve died instead.

Morgan is a child still, far from ready to take the throne, and Pepper would manage but at the end of the day this country needs its king – need Tony, not only doing the work that he is to win this war, but as a son of Stark, as a member of the family that’s ruled for over a millennia. Even to those that believe the worst rumors about Tony, his presence on the throne is still a comfort, still a sign that the Goddess hasn’t forsaken them. Morgan won’t be viewed the same. She’s too young.

At the end of the day, he and Steve are just soldiers. They’re far more replaceable.

Beyond that, these are the people that made Tony swallow a star. They don’t know he’s the Iron Mage, but they probably assume that the Iron Mage is going to be nearby anyway, and are preparing for it. Which means Tony will have the element of surprise going for him

But when he was nineteen, Tony kissed him under a peach tree, tasting of the fruit they’d shared, and neither of them have looked back since.  

When the situations had been reversed, Rhodey hadn’t given up, hadn’t stopped looking, and if they’d offered him an invitation like they’re offering Tony, he would have taken it regardless of the danger. And he’d like to say he did all that for his king, but he wouldn’t have gone to nearly as much effort for Greg, for Howard.

He did it because it was Tony.

And not an ounce of logic or sense is going to keep Tony from doing the same.

Not that there’ll be any. Pepper probably didn’t even hesitate, he thinks fondly. They’ve been friends and partners too long. He’d tell Tony to go after Pepper too, even while wishing he wouldn’t come after him now.

“Why are you smiling?” Steve asks warily.

Rhodey rolls his head to the side. Steve is eight years younger than him, six years younger than Tony, and most of the time Rhodey doesn’t notice the difference. He’s seen more war than Rhodey has, after all, and has some mannerisms that remind him of his grandfather. He ages slowly, thanks to the sorcerer’s enchantment, but enough people have spelled themselves with a false youth that it’s not jarring enough to be noteworthy.

Right now, he looks even younger than he is, tired and wary. Rhodey would have thought his resignation would make him look older, but instead if brings to mind every child that’s found themselves trapped on the battlefield.

“It’s going to be alright,” he says gently. “He’ll come.”

Steve grimaces and looks away. “Even if he does. They might just kill us anyway.”

They might, but their sorcerers are skilled enough to read the enchantments tangled on top of both of them. Tony would know if Rhodey was dead. They performed that spell long before Tony ever sat on the throne. Which means they’ll keep them alive at least long enough for Tony to see them, which is probably all the time he’ll need.

But that’s nothing he can say to Steve, nothing he’ll understand when he doesn’t know the king is Edward and the Iron Mage both, so he tilts to the side until their shoulders are pressed together and hopes Steve finds comfort in that.

[forgeofthenine]

Also another one for Rolan, since some people seem to have a mod that replaces Gale with Rolan or something? I've only seen screenshots... Anyway, how does Rolan's magic play into his romantic life? Is he also into super weird astral projection threesomes? Does he summon pianos to play music in the background? Does he entangle his partner? Questions upon questions

I think I've come across that mod while modding my own game! I considered figuring out how to use it to kiss Dammon and then decided not to, maybe I should reconsider? Either way, I hope you enjoy the headcannons even if half of them are SFW, I actually used my new mechanical keyboard to write them instead of my phone (this fancy keyboard makes me so excited lmao)

NSFW under the cut

CW: Double penetration, Voyeurism, clone sex, bondage

Everyday magic with Rolan

SFW

Rolan LOVES some mundane magic, any opportunity is a good time to practise his magic

Your houseplants are looking a little sad? Don’t worry, he’ll use a spell to summon some water for them

You don’t have enough hands to multitask cooking a fancy dinner? He’s ready to help and doesn’t even need to stand

You hate cleaning the much too high up windows in Ramaziths Tower? Rolan has that handled too, don’t worry about it

He’s always looking for new ways to reinvent spells and impress those around him and that extends to his domestic duties as well

Sometimes, if he’s feeling a little cheesy, he’ll summon a gentle gust of wind to knock you off balance just enough for him to swoop in all romantically and be your prince charming

You’ll also generally find him perusing his library with an assortment of books and quills floating near him, or being moved off to the side when he doesn’t have need of them anymore

Mind your head if he doesn’t know you’re there, the room is essentially filled with projectiles

Rolan is also a master at summoning things over to his desk as he works so he never has to get himself up

That is, until you insist on dragging him away for a break

NSFW

If you don’t think Rolan uses his magic during sex then you don’t know this man

He loves some good vanilla love making, and it’s usually his go to, but using his magic simply adds some spice to things

Rolan is fully willing to make a magic clone of himself for the sole purpose of fucking you, whether he’s off to the side simply watching or getting in on the action himself he’s happy either way

He’s surprisingly into spitroasting you with his clone, especially when he gets to tease you as you’re moaning around said clone

Another thing he’s into is double penetration, there’s nothing Rolan loves more than seeing you spread out and taking two of his cocks

That’s not the extent of how he can use his talents in the bedroom however, far from it

Having magic abilities also makes bondage much, much easier luckily for Rolan

He could work it out ‘the normal way’ if he wanted, but this wizard would rather just skip to the good part

Silk ropes or thorned vines, Rolan just loves to see you bound and at his mercy, writhing with every touch of his skilled fingers 

You’ll be feeling the fleeting touches of fingertips over sensitive spots for what seems to be hours (but is truly mere minutes) before he finally pulls you against him and has his way with you

Rolans not usually one for manhandling, rathering sweet kisses and declarations of love while taking care of your needs in bed, but using his magic in these ways lights a particular fire in him

Hopefully you’re able to hang on for the ride

[bambiimutt]

hiii!!! Can you do masky as a father figure to edgy emo/scene teens? 👀

Father Figure Masky

Of course I can my love!! I actually haven’t thought of doing something like this so I’ll give it a shot!!

ೃ࿔*:･

Not any tw’s if I missed any please let me know. Just some wholesome Tim! Lots of fluff!

-I feel like he probably finds you in a Library. He doesn’t go often but when he usually spots you. you’re always reading a book or sometimes drawing. He never sees your parents so he assumes you must be old enough to be out on your own.

-he’s typically in there for.. well not really anything. To get away from the noise. From the typical people. He usually sits in a corner, book in hand slightly slouching in his chair, legs crossed over each other. His satchel usually sits beside the squeaky chair, occasionally he pops a pill, swallowing down water and going back to whatever he’s reading.

-you come in one afternoon, grabbing the book you’ve been reading the last couple of weeks and heading towards your spot. But when you arrive you’re met with a few teenagers from you school. “Shit.” You’re quick to turn on your heel before they see you and try to find some other quiet corner to sit in. And when you do someone else just so happens to be sitting there.

-you clear your throat. “Uhm..” Tim looks up from his book, eyebrow cocked. It’s you. “S-sorry. Uhm. Do you mind if I sit here. I won’t bother you or anything.” He’s silent for a moment, his fingers curling at the page before he closes the book. You’re quick to roll your eyes when you don’t get a response “hellooo?” You wave your book in his face before he speaks “g’ahead” he moves up slightly and watches you carefully. He takes note of your funky hair, how it isn’t natural. The piercings on your face and the clothes you wear.

- this is all where it kinda started. You’d start sitting with him whenever you knew he was there, he’d learn why you were always here, how your parents just never treated you the greatest and the only way to escape was to come to the library.

-you finally ask him one day why he takes so many pills, why he needs so much medication. And oddly enough he feels okay to open up to you about those things.

-I think he would feel some sort of comfort. He likes that your different then others. In a way you’re like him, but maybe not so violent. And he tries to keep that part of him away from you. He tries to just be the happy him, but it’s hard when he’s been out all night blacked out stalking innocent individuals.

-he ends up buying you some art supplies. He first took note of your artistic skills from the moment he seen you. He likes the weird things you draw, it almost eases his mind to know he’s not the only one with weird stupid scary thoughts.. though you are more of a edgy teenager.. he’s just not normal.

-your name in his phone is kiddo. He probably sends you stupid fucking memes he finds on the internet that he thinks are so Hilarious but they’re actually so fucking cringy.

-Calling him dad for the first time. Yeah it kinda just slips out and he’s shook. You think he’s angry, uncomfortable but he’s in pure SHOCK. Really? You look at him like that? That’s so… sweet. He cares for you deeply and wants to see you go far. So the fact that you see him like that.. damn you might have just wiggled right into his heart.

-it takes him some time getting used to it but at some point he fully allows you to call him dad. He’ll pick you up from school, he’s always the one to listen to you when it comes to bullies at school, he buys you lunch, makes sure you have school supplies that you need. You call him asking him to pick you up because you don’t wanna be there anymore? He’s on his way.

-“can you take me to the MCR comeback concert?”

“Fuck no.”

-Trust me he’d love to take you to those things but his money goes to his medications and his house, he’d rather have a roof over his head then be surrounding by teenagers crying and screaming. Butttt.. that doesn’t stop him from buying you things that you’re interested in. Band shirts, new hair dye, comics, etc.. he even goes out of his way to make sure you have new things, new phone.. whatever you want. I think he’s taking the dad role straight to the heart.. but it makes him happy.

-if you were ever in a situation to be put up for adoption. He’s 100% willing to adopt you. But if you’re old enough to be moved out, he’s got a bedroom all set up for you.

-he takes his road trips.. and fully takes pride on the fact that he listens to dad rock. He sings horribly to the music while you groan and plug your ears, and searching frantically for your headphones “dad please! Shut up!”

-he does let you play your music majority of the time though, and he actually doesn’t mind any of it. He thinks it’s pretty cool.

-“I bought hair dye..” you look at Tim and sway side to side, hands behind your back. He stares at you from the couch before shutting his eyes and sighing “alright, grab a plastic bag and get to the bathroom.” He always dyes your hair. And he’s always wrapping the damn plastic bag around your head too tight. “Gotta make sure that dye stays in there” and gives you the meanest dad back slap.

-if you ever graduate, he’s in the back of the stadium watching you proudly from afar. And of course he has gifts for you, what kind of father would he be if he hadn’t. Once you’re both in the car he’s got a small box and a large bag ready for you. Some new clothes, items and those damn concert tickets you always talk about.

-he’s a good papa. He’d never judge you for your interests nor what you looked like. He thinks you’re super bad ass and he’s proud to be such an important figure in your life.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Behind the Fortress Walls Chapter 2

Chapter two of my fic for the @dpxdcbigbang has been released!

Fic Summary

Jazz is in love with Dick. He’s kind, considerate, and caring. Far and away the nicest person she’s ever dated. But she’s lying to him. About so, so much. And he’ll hate her once he learns the truth. Assuming he doesn't get tired of her canceling all their dates first. When Danny and Ellie go missing, the latest in a series of ghostly disappearances, she's forced to cancel another date. Going to Elmerton to meet up with Tucker and Sam, she will get Danny and Ellie back from the GIW no matter what it takes. Only…they aren't the only ones breaking in.

Chapter word count: ~6k. Full word count for both chapters 14141 which was totally unplanned. But what a fun number????

-----

“What’s taking so long, Pharaoh?” asked Jazz.

“I…don’t know. It looks like communications are down. I’m struggling to connect to the network here.”

Jazz stilled. “What does that mean?”

Tucker didn’t answer for a long minute as he continued to tap away at his tablet. “It means that even if we are seen breaking in, no one will be able to get an alarm raised off-base. Regrowth, have you seen any agents wandering around? Or lights turn on or off in the building?”

Sam jumped down from the tree. “I haven’t seen anyone.”

“I don’t like this,” said Jazz. “Something’s not right. There should be someone around. Growing up with my parents, I know all about experiments that drag on longer than expected. And the Guys in White are fanatics. They’d stay late to run another experiment.”

“Danny and Ellie are in there,” said Tucker.

Jazz closed her eyes. She hated unknowns. But Tucker was right. Danny and Ellie were in there.

“I’m going in anyway,” said Sam after a long moment. “If communications are down, they won’t be able to request back up.”

“Anyone we find is more likely to be on edge, though,” said Tucker.

Sam snorted. “And we can take them.”

“I have the zip ties I stole from my boyfriend,” said Jazz. “And a few things I’d taken from my parents before moving out. It’s all in working condition.”

“We go in,” agreed Tucker. “Maybe once we get to the security office, I’ll be able to figure out what’s going on.”

“Regrowth, you ready?” asked Jazz.

“Yep. Let’s go.”

All three made their way to the fence. A good six to ten feet of land on their side of the fence had been cleared, leaving them in plain view. But they had chosen an area of the fence that was in shadow where the light from two floodlights didn’t quite overlap.

They’d still be seen instantly if anyone decided to come looking, but hopefully the dark would be enough to protect them from a distance. Jazz and Sam shrugged off their backpacks and left them on the ground. Then Jazz, using skills she learned in Blüdhaven rather than Amity, took a running jump and latched onto the fence two feet off the ground.

Within seconds she was at the top of the fence.

“Show off,” she heard Sam mutter.

Jazz grinned to herself. She was, a little bit. Carefully, she spread her legs out wider while Sam climbed up under her. When she reached Jazz’s level, Jazz flattened herself against the fence so Sam could climb up behind her. With Jazz’s legs spread, Sam was able to get her knees under Jazz’s.

Then Sam gripped the fence tight, using muscles she had earned working in a gardening center carrying stone and clay pots bigger than her torso. Jazz used Sam’s lap as a pseudo seat and leaned back, letting go of the fence.

“You okay?” she asked, making sure her weight wasn’t going to overbalance Sam.

“Yep. Just be quick.”

Jazz nodded and reached into her robes where she had a wire cutter and thick gardening gloves courtesy of Sam. She pulled on the gloves and quickly cut off a foot and a half wide section of wire. With the gloves, she picked them up, keeping them from falling and hooked them into the links of the fence.

Stripping her gloves, she dropped them to the ground and grabbed back onto the fence.

Sam let out a breath of relief and climbed back down to the ground, Jazz following. Once on the ground, she grabbed the gloves she’d dropped and slid them back into their pocket in her robes.

“All right, Pharaoh,” said Jazz as she grabbed her backpack and put it back on. “You first.”

-----

It was harder to pick a segment to share for this chapter! Hope you enjoy ^.^

[comfortless]

omg your könig posts just heal me. how do you think he’d deal w/ someone who just gets sad a lot?

He’s just awful!

König has braved an eternal winter his whole life. He knows what depression feels like, knows how sadness and badness can creep in even during your happiest moments. Considers that he’s already met the demiurge and is punished with an everlasting purgatory.

And König also knows loneliness intimately. He never had an arm around him those nights he spent curled in his bed sobbing far away from where any eyes could see. His “comfort” came in the form of demands from both internally and externally; his father’s voice always rung out far above the rest. Be stronger. More of a man.

With you, a part of him breaks.

Because despite knowing these things down to the marrow, helping with them has never been a skill of his. He can kill a man in seconds, ram through a door with practiced posture in less than a minute, but helping you when you’re sad is entirely foreign to him.

It’s hell entirely, because you’re sad so often. He does what a good lover should: fetches you gifts and food, holds you tight, buries you in nothing but words he deems sweet enough (even if they’re a bit crude).

And often you don’t want any of it.

You shutdown when he hovers and badgers, always pleading with you to explain what’s wrong. You’re curling into yourself, facing away when he tries his best to pull you in. Sometimes it’s an aggressive sort of love — forcing you into his lap and holding your face while you cry your little heart out, dragging you out of the house to sit in the sun while you babble about your woes (or even lack of, really, he just wants something to go off of), and an abundance of unsolicited advice as to what may help your mental state (as though he himself has not ghosted every poor therapist he's ever had). The gifts only increase and your every need is taken care of as though you were physically ill.

He’s aware enough to know that he’s being a total nuisance, too. He expects you to lash out, tell him to stop his pestering and coddling. And König would even enjoy your anger, because it’s something other than being sad and withdrawn. All of this only stems from what he felt he may have needed when he was a pitiful, lonely boy.

So, he holds you close, pampers you like the finest treasure, speaks softer and chooses his words a little better. There are no threats of hours of unhinged sex now, but he’s still a pervert: offers to lick you to take your mind off of whatever is going on. It’s a good distraction, he’s certain, because a wank in the barracks usually does aid him when you’re apart and that sadness creeps its way in.

And more often than not, he’ll question if it’s he who caused all of this. He’s not a good man, never pretends to be. He’s brutish and socially stunted in ways only seen in feral people or beasts in myth. König won’t ask for reassurance directly, very rarely wants you to see him seeming so vulnerable and small, but it’s evident how this growing aching reflects your own. The confessions of love come tenfold, not just for you, but because he needs to hear you say them too.

[yourfavangstwriter]

A Second Chance with the Soldier

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem! reader - MAJOR ANGST

Summary: Steve loves you. He has since the moment he saw you, but he what he wants more than anything is for you to see how worthy you truly are!

Warnings: MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING mentions Child Sexual Abuse, Physical abuse, violence, fighting

Word count: 15k

“Hurry up…he’ll be here soon, and I want to get a good seat at the front”

“Urgh…do I really have to go with you”

“PLEASEEEEEE, I don’t want to be left alone with all those stinky boys. You’re the only other girl so I want to sit with you. At the front.”

“How about this…” I begin. 

One thing about my best friend Elle is that she is persistent. She will wear you down until you give in, but I think that’s one of the things I love most about her. Being the only 2 females in our entire section in the army, we have no choice but to have each other’s backs. There’s nothing wrong with the guys, but there’s only so much testosterone a girl can withstand, and in the sea of brothers, she’s my sister. The best sister and friend I could have ever asked for. Not to mention the perfect soldier. We know we’ll always have each other’s backs, both on and off the battlefield. Which is why I would do anything for her. Including going to see Steve Rogers’ ‘inspiring speech for the soldiers’ this afternoon. 

I’d much prefer to be doing anything else. Admittedly the thought of attending an inspiring talk for the army makes me want to scream. Just the thought of the army makes me want to scream. Don’t get me wrong, my 8 years as a soldier have been wonderful. They gave me a home, money, skills, and friends for a lifetime. But it’s not my calling anymore. I yearn for more. And I’ve already began my discharge process with my CO. Not that I’ve told Elle…or anyone else for that matter. So the thought of Steve Rogers talking at me for 2 hours about all the positive aspects of serving your country makes me feel violently ill. I was hoping Elle would find someone else to go with so I can stay back and start job and apartment hunting. The pros of living in the barracks was being able to squirrel away quite a bit of money. Not enough to never work again, but I have enough for a deposit on an apartment and to be able to live comfortably for a few months whilst looking for a job. The cons of living on the barracks are that you’re basically never alone. And given that I haven’t told anyone I’m leaving, I can’t quite whip out my laptop and start looking in front of them. 

“If I agree to come and sit with you, you’ll let me leave halfway through”. 

“AHHHH you’re the best” Elle screams, practically dragging me off my bed and into the hallway, with so much energy I can barely contain my laughter. It will only be an hour at most for me, so how bad can it be? 

Steve’s POV

Public speaking has never been one of my strong suits. It makes me uncomfortable on a whole other level. All those eyes staring at me make me feel like the small skinny kid from Brooklyn all over again. Poor Bucky has been made to listen to my speech 3 times this morning to make sure I don’t stumble, and I still feel awful. Or I did, until I stepped onto to the small podium set up and looked down to the front row to see the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. Her y/h/c hair was pulled up into a tight military standard bun, but that just meant her other features were accentuated. Her round cheeks and sharp nose were striking, but most beautiful of all were her eyes. The y/e/c orbs bore a tired expression yet were still enchanting. Averting my gaze was difficult, but upon doing so I noticed there was only one other woman in the room with her. And she was sat next to her…looking far more excited. In fact, every other face in the room bore excitement and happiness, except hers. So why is she sat in the first row? 

After an hour I decided to take a break. The woman in the front row was distracting me too much. Every time I looked at her, I found it hard to look away, which distracted me and made me stumble a few times. When I got to the door to exit the room, I heard too many voices. I knew they would all swamp me at some point, but I didn’t think it would be this early on. Usually, they wait to the end. When I turned around to find somewhere else to go, I saw a flash of camo exit out of a slowly closing fire exit. ‘I wonder where she’s going’ I thought and decided to follow her. 

Evidently, she had run from where I saw her, but all barracks are pretty much laid out the same and given the number of speeches I’ve given and barracks I’ve been in, I’m 99% certain I can find my way to the mess hall at least. 

Evidently the mystery woman didn’t want to hang around because by the time I got out of the door she was gone. I was hoping to catch up to her and figure out if her early exit was because the speech was terrible or if there was something else bothering her. Bucky told me the speech was fine, but I have a feeling he would’ve said anything in the end which meant he wouldn’t have to listen to another word. But I needn’t have worried over finding her, as upon entering what I assumed was the mess hall, I noticed a figure huddled in the corner, back facing the door as she scrolled on a laptop. 

I know I shouldn’t pry; my mother raised me better than that, but my learnt stealth from being a super soldier meant I could take a few steps closer to see what she was doing. I relaxed when I realised, she was apartment hunting. It wasn’t my speech that gave her that faraway look thanks goodness! The closer I got, the more I could smell her. An entrancing floral smell. Addicting. What I’d want my home to smell like after coming home from a difficult mission. Rolling over in bed and catching a whiff from her pillow. Her pillow? Wait what? What am I saying. I don’t even know this girl. Before I allowed my thoughts to spiral even more, I decided now was the time to strike up conversation. 

“Barracks accommodation that bad huh?”

“JESUS CHRIST WHAT THE FU-…oh” she screamed turning around at the same time. But when she saw me, she stopped.

“No please, carry on. Cuss me out, I deserved that.” I replied sheepishly.

“N…no, of course you didn’t. You just scared me that’s all, sorry sir.” She murmured quietly as she stood and saluted. 

“No need to salute soldier. Or call me sir, it’s just Steve” I know it’s been drilled into her over and over to always salute the higher ups, but I don’t think I will ever get used to the formality of it all.

“Sorry Sir…I mean Steve” she replied somewhat shyly. 

“I came to ask why you looked like you’d rather be stationed in a war zone that be in that front row earlier. You escaped pretty fast too. It wasn’t that boring, was it?”

“Oh gosh no Sir! STEVE!” She corrected rather quickly and loudly. There was a tinge of red to her cheeks which made me smile. 

“It was quite inspiring really. I think it would have been better for people considering enlisting though. Not those already signed up. Every one of us in that room knows what sacrifice for the country looks like. None more than you of course…I’m sorry” she quickly backtracked, looking sheepish when she realised the tangent she went on. 

“No, no. This feedback is good. I encourage it. People are always too quick to blow steam up my ass. I appreciate the honesty.” She looked rather shocked by my reply. Either that or the language.

 “Now I’m sorry. I shouldn’t use that type of language in front of a beautiful dame.” Now she really blushed. I smiled again. “Just want to quell the golden boy image Stark is so keen to persist.” She laughed at that, and boy was it the nicest laugh I’ve heard in a while. 

“You don’t need to watch your language around me. Trust me. Army boys don’t know how to speak without accompanying every other word with a colourful French word.” She replied, shuffling over and offering me a seat at the bench. 

“Ah I understand. Thank you. Now, is it too nosy to ask why you fled so quickly.” 

“I suppose not. I’m apartment hunting.”

“Ah, say no more.”

“Yeah….” She murmured, glancing glumly back at the computer screen. 

“Is the barracks really that bad?” I questioned, growing slightly concerned. Being Captain America has certain perks, and I can pull certain strings. If there’s one thing I’ll advocate for, it’s the comfort of our soldiers. Having been one myself, I know it’s not easy.

“Well, they aren’t the best. But that’s not why. I leave the army in 2 weeks and have yet to find somewhere.”

“Ah…any particular reason why?”

“I just don’t feel fulfilled anymore. The army used to give me pride. I felt like I was doing something good. A reason to feel proud of myself. But after 2 tours of Afghanistan and 1 of Iraq, I often feel like I left more of a mess than what greeted me. I guess I just need to find what motivates me again.” 

“I meant, was there any particular reason why you couldn’t find an apartment. There are a few apartments in my building that are vacant.” I replied grinning, but it was clear she didn’t take it that way. She began to blush even harder. 

“But I understand what you were saying” I hastened to add. “It’s like a calling. A yearning to help people. And if you don’t feel that calling anymore, then it’s hard to carry on in the job. Sometimes I go through periods of doubt about what I do to.” She visibly relaxed at my understanding, making me feel 100 times better. 

“It’s not that I don’t feel the yearning anymore. I think I will always feel. What I was born to do. I’ve just become disenfranchised with job. I don’t seem to be helping people at the minute.” My heart warmed at her honesty. It feels quite rare to find others who feel the same way. 

“Do you have any other jobs in mind at the moment?”

“No, why. Any spare avenger jobs going?” She quipped back with a grin, making me smile in return. God, she has a beautiful smile. 

“Not quite avenger level, no. But S.H.I.E.L.D. are recruiting for agents again. They always give first dibs to ex-military, and a kind word from me can get you straight through to an interview.” The look of shock on her face was pleasing. 

“Really? You could do that? An actual agent. I didn’t think I was qualified enough” she mumbled to herself, but super soldier hearing meant I heard every word. 

“Why wouldn’t you be? Trust me, I work with them day in, day out. They’re no different from you. You have the right attitude, and whilst I haven’t seen your combat training, I’m sure it’s satisfactory if you survived three tours in some of the most active war zones.”

“How do you know where we served?”

“I like to know who my men, and women, are” I replied, somewhat sheepishly, having to admit that I got Stark to background search every soldier here. It’s true that ex-military make the best agents. 

“Oh. Well, I’ll definitely think about it. I can’t lie, waitressing really doesn’t appeal to me, and that’s all that comes up.”

“Well, accommodation comes included so, here take my card and give me a call when you decide. I’ll send over the application form and when I see you’ve submitted it, I’ll start pulling strings.” I winked, handing over my card with my personal number on. Usually, I’d give out my business card, but something about this woman made me feel like giving her my personal would be better. 

Y/N’s POV.

Holy shit. Captain America gave me his number. 

“Walk me out?” He started as he got up from the bench. Still in shock, I pocketed the card and started to lead him to the main gate.

“Don’t you have to finish the talk?” I suddenly remembered.

“Nah…I’ll blow it off as some avenger emergency or something like that.”

“Fair enough, I’ll pretend I never saw you” I reply with a grin. He hesitated as though he wanted to say something else, but instead just smirked and headed out of the gate. Just before he ducked into the car, he called out. 

“Hey y/n. Don’t lose my number.” I sucked in a breath. I thought he’d been quite flirtatious when he called me a ‘beautiful dame’, but I didn’t want to just assume. “We could really use some people like you with your kind of attitudes at S.H.I.E.L.D.” Oh. 

“Sure…I’ll…I’ll think about it.” I stuttered out, drowning in embarrassment. How on earth could I think that the Captain America would be flirting with me. With that, he winked, closed the door and sped off. 

“Why is Captain America scouting you for S.H.I.E.L.D?” Asked a very angry Elle. 

“Elle…” I started but couldn’t say anymore. 

“Forget it…” she mumbled dejectedly as she raced back inside. Great. This was going to be a very nice conversation. Not. 

6 WEEKS LATER

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you all day!” Shouted the very handsome Captain. 

When he visited the barracks, and when we met for coffee to discuss my application, he wore civilian clothing, but today he wore his suit, tied at the waste with a black under armour shirt on top that showed every single muscle. Not salivating at the mouth was going to be harder than a dog not drooling in a butcher. He was accompanied by a fierce looking Bucky Barnes, and cheeky looking Sam Wilson. 

“Looking for me?” I replied, slightly shocked and also embarrassed under the gazes I was getting. 

“Of course! And I brought reinforcements to help move your stuff” he smiled, pointing to Bucky and Sam. 

“Oh gosh, that really isn’t necessary. Not that I don’t appreciate it, but no one else has help.”

“They have their families” Bucky replied. 

Whilst looking incredibly miserable, a closer look at his eyes showed life. Love. Happiness. Coming from a place of healing. And also understanding. Of course, the former spy had noted the lack of familial assistance I had compared to everyone else. I was hoping Elle might help but she still hasn’t forgiven me for not telling her sooner. 

“Where are your family y/n?” Sam Wilson questioned, smiling also at me, clearly picking up on my unease. 

“Out of town” I replied way too quickly, and by the look on the three avengers’ faces, they knew I did too. 

“Well, we’re here now, so show us where your car is, and Buck and I can grab some boxes whilst Steve shows you to your room. He pulled some strings to get you on the nicer side of the tower” 

Sam winked. A glance at Steve told me they weren’t making it up. 

“I told you don’t call me Buck” 

“What you gonna do Maggie?”

“Maggie??” Steve asked looking incredibly confused, but also very done with their bickering. Something about the way he allowed it to ensue told me this was quite a frequent occurrence. 

“Short for magnet. Like his arm” Sam replied, trying not to smile but failing miserably. 

“Jesus wept”

 “Shut it bird brain” both Steve and Bucky replied at the same time. 

“Here, take my keys, it’s the white one over there” I replied, tossing Bucky the keys, hoping to break up whatever quarrel they were having now. 

After some resistance on my part, Steve took the box and suitcase I was carrying whilst I went to the reception desk to sign in and pick up my keys. Because I was with Steve, his advanced authorisation meant we got to take the nice elevator with the view of New York. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. 

“It’s beautiful isn’t it.” Steve mumbled, very close to my neck. So close, in fact, I could feel his breath sweep over the tiny hairs there. 

“Yes.” One word was all I could manage. From both shock and his closeness, and at the view. 

Looking down to the ground, we both saw Bucky and Sam clearly squabbling over who got to carry the largest box. It looked like Bucky was winning, but he does have the metal arm. 

“I know you Avengers value your private lives, but I’m sure a gay wedding between the falcon and the winter solider would have broken the internet”. Steve let out a mighty howl at that and doubled over, nearly dropping the box, and was laughing so hard that I couldn’t help but laugh with him. The butterflies in my stomach seemed to be laughing as well as they tripled in intensity when Steve straightened up and looked at me. 

“Well, if there was a wedding, I wasn’t invited” he smirked. “Don’t worry, they’re like this all the time. But I know they have each other’s backs which matters more to me than anything else.” It was sweet how much he seemed to care. 

“That’s nice to see” I commented, thinking longingly about Elle. He seemed to notice. 

“Everything okay”

“Yes. Yes. It’s fine. I’m just tired that’s all. Been a long day”

“Well as soon as they figure out who can carry a box, we can leave you to unpack. It’s an early start tomorrow. 5am.” He smiled understandingly. 

“Early!! Practically a lie in in comparison” I joked. 

“Ah. A fellow early bird. Sometimes the three of us go running in the mornings. You’re more than welcome to join us”.

“If there’s one thing I didn’t do enough of it was running. I think I’ll give it a miss but thank you though.” The thought of plain ol’ me running with three superheroes was daunting to say the least. 

The room Steve secured for me is incredible. Floor to ceiling windows that offered the best view of New York, with a huge bed in the middle, and a gigantic bathroom with a huge porcelain bathtub in the middle.

 “Wow Steve. Please tell me every other trainee has a room like this.” 

“Well...they all have beds and bathtubs and windows” he teases, after watching my awe-struck gaze. 

“But not like these” I finish. 

“By no means are they shabby. But it’s just a double instead of a king, and there’s no bathtub. But they do have windows. Obviously. They’re the floor below us” he adds. 

“Us?” I squeak out. 

“You’re sharing with us doll. In Steve’s defence, they had run out of rooms for the recruits. For all the brains Stark’s supposed to have, he can’t count enough rooms out.” Quipped Bucky carrying three boxes, followed by Sam who had the remaining suitcase and a potted plant. 

“No shit” I burst out, then slapped my hand over my mouth when I realised what I said. That made them chuckle.

“Please don’t feel like you need to watch your language doll. You say military are bad. Wait until you spend 5 minutes with Stark” Steve comforted. 

“Steve mentioned you were military.” Sam said, with a questioning tone. As Bucky deposited my car keys back into my hand I saw the questioning in his eyes again as well. 

“Medical corps. Afghanistan and Iraq. 3 years” I offered. 

“SHIT. I KNEW I RECOGNISED YOU. DO YOU RECOGNISE ME?” Sam burst out, jumping Bucky causing him to scowl again. 

“Of course I do, I see your face on the news every other day.” I quipped.

“Why every other day?” Sam distractedly asked. 

“Because I don’t watch it every day.” Steve and Bucky snickered at my response. 

“Fairs. But anyway. Iraq. Me and a guy called Riley. We both had bullet wounds and you patched us up.” Sam probed. 

“Of course!” I replied, immediately remembering this time. “Glad to know you made it out alive. I was sorry to hear about your friend though” 

“Me too kid. You were with another chick that day. What was her name? Ellie, Elena??”

“Elle” I supply.

“Yes, Elle. She was cute. What happened to her. Please tell me she’s still alive” he smirked. 

“Yes. Elle is still very much alive. And serving. We actually room shared back at the barracks.” I replied, even though the thought of Elle made my chest pang. 

“Bring her round some time, yeah?” Sam asked. I didn’t know what to say in return. How do I tell them she’s not talking to me at the minute. I barely know the guys. I’m not going to offload onto them like that. 

“Errrr” I started.

“Alright guys, that’s enough grilling. Let’s leave y/n to settle in and unpack.” Steve said, placing a large warm hand on my shoulder in comfort. When we met for coffee a few weeks ago it accidentally slipped that Elle wasn’t talking to me, so thankfully he knows the situation enough not to pry. 

“That’s all you have??” Bucky asked quite shocked. 

“Military life. No time or space for possessions.” I offer back. A quick, fixed answer I give every time I move, and people comment on my lack of possessions. 

The real reason is that I left home when I was 16 with only the clothes on my back. Only Elle knows why. My heart hurts just thinking about her. Bucky smiled back at me, and a glance at the other two revealed similar expressions of understanding. 

“We’re all military men, so we know better than most.” Sam answered with sincerity. 

“Thanks guys.” I squeaked out, feeling overwhelmed at their niceness. “See you tomorrow morning, bright and early.” 

5 Months later….

STEVE’S POV 

“Stop. Pulling. Your. PUNCHES” y/n all but screamed at me. 

Every word was punctuated with a hit, but they were sloppy. She’s distracted by something, and I can tell, which is why I am pulling my punches. If I hurt her, I wouldn’t forgive myself. Over the last 6 months y/n has excelled in the program, quickly rising the ranks to become one of the best trainees. I know for a fact that Fury is already eyeing her up for additional training in a few weeks when she graduates to support Avenger missions. With her accomplishments, I find my respect and admiration for her growing more and more. I know that Elle still hasn’t spoken to her, but she manages to push it to the back of her mind and continue kicking ass both physically and mentally in the aptitude tests. Even Tony pulled me aside and said I’d made a good spot with her. However, given that we basically live together, train together (I as her mentor, and she as my mentee), and spend a lot of free time together (not that I am complaining though), I think I know her well enough to figure out that the situation with Elle isn’t her only distraction. 

A few weeks ago, y/n, Sam, Bucky and I were returning from a run in the morning when we passed a man. A man who made y/n stop in her tracks. Her bright smile vanished, eyes becoming glazed, and body drawing in on itself. 

“Hey doll you good?” Asked Bucky, noticing y/n had dropped back, eyes following the man. I turned to look at her, and noticed the man was walking away from us, but still had his head turned to smile at y/n. Bucky’s comment snapped y/n out of her trance. 

“Fine” was all she said. 

“You sure. Hey, if he’s an awful ex or something we can go 10 rounds in your next hand-to-hand combat training exercise” Sam joked. 

“I said it was fine. It’s fine. Now leave it.” She snapped, ducking into the nearest corridor and taking the stairs to our floor. 

“What did I say?” Sam asked, genuinely confused over how he could have upset her. 

“Punk” was all Bucky said as he looked at me. One thing about being friends with someone for so long is that you learn how to communicate without words. 

“Oh… you’re doing the weird eye talking thing.” Sam commented.

 I knew Bucky was wondering if I was going to go after her, but the way she stormed off alone told me that she needed a minute to herself alone. With that, Bucky, Sam and I made our way back up to the common room of the Avengers-only floor. 

When I went to check up on y/n a few hours later, she was nowhere to be found. Clearly, she was still affected by the man in the lobby earlier. Deciding that I needed to get to the bottom of this, I pulled up the CCTV footage and used JARVIS for facial-recognition. Turns out the guy was someone called Luke Jackson, one of the finance guys up on the 4th floor, with no known connection to y/n, the trainee program, or the Avengers. And despite never seeing him around the tower again, y/n was still upset about the encounter weeks later. Yes, her punches got harder, and her attitude sharpened, but so did her eyes. Gone was the bright spark, replaced with a cold ice that only revealed anger and hurt, and today I decided I was going to get to the bottom of it. 

“If I don’t pull my punches, you’ll be eating out of a tube indefinitely” I warn. 

“Fuck you” she pants.

“THAT’S YOUR COMMANDING OFFICER” Brock Rumlow’s voice boomed from behind me.

 I have never been bothered by the way y/n talks to me. In fact, I welcome it, because it means that we have a deeper relationship than just mentor/mentee. And I kind of deserved it, I was winding her up and I know it. But I know her well enough now to know that sometimes she pushes me, so I push back so she knows I’m there. She actually told me that herself. Which is why I oh so kindly Rumlow to do the same, he’s been on y/n’s back ever since she got here and I’m yet to find out why. Even Bucky picked up on it. 

“She knows thank you Rumlow. Carry on with what you were doing” I warn sternly. 

“Does she?” he sneers with that awful side smirk. God, I hate this man. 

“Yes sir. My apologies Captain Rogers. Agent Rumlow. I think I’ll take my break now.” She mumbles, then practically sprints off of the training mats and is out of the room. 

Before I can go after her, however, one of the other agent steps up seeing a window of opportunity. Usually, I enjoy sparring with the trainees but all I want to do right now is go after her. I’ve never seen her this distracted, and even though I see Brock go after her, I still worry because I know he will be of no help. After a quick text to Sam and Bucky to see if they will go find her, I try my best to put the issue out of mind and focus on the trainee in front of me. 

Y/N’S POV

I know I’ve been distracted. In the beginning I could squash it. Missing Elle was all that bothered me, but when I was training, I managed to put it to the back of my mind enough so that I only had to unpack it at night when I was alone in my room and desperately wishing I could call her to update her about my days in training. Even I have to admit that I’ve done quite well and am proud of how quickly I’ve learnt the skills required. Bucky let me in on a little secret Steve made him swear not to tell me that THE Nick Fury was watching me to see if I would be suitable as a supporting agent for literal Avenger missions. That kept me in good spirits. That was until I saw him. 

I know I swore that I wouldn’t run with literal avengers, but it is actually quite a lot of fun. Bucky and Sam race each other, and Steve always give me a cute little wave as he passes me. On the way back in from a very refreshing run, I passed him in the lobby. Wearing a suit and tie with a Stark employee ID badge on. My big brother Luke. I knew he spotted me from the way he smirked at me. It stopped me in my tracks. I thought I’d escaped him. I thought I’d never have to see him again. But somehow, he found me, and the next day when I stepped into the gym and saw Brock Rumlow waiting at the front as a trainer, I knew exactly how Luke had found me. Growing up, Brock and Luke were best buddies, much like Steve and Bucky. But the difference was that they were bullies. The meanest kind. Beating people up just for breathing too loud. Brock took one look at me, and he knew that I knew. He also knew I wouldn’t say a thing. Which is why I’ve been doing my best to keep my head down. After I stormed off that day in the lobby, I was incredibly grateful that neither Sam, Bucky nor Steve questioned me about it. But with the way Brock has been winding me up recently and leering over everything I do, I know it’s only a matter of time before someone catches on. And that time is looming dangerously close when I hear him leer at me from behind. 

“Where do you think you’re going baby cakes” Urgh. That god awful nickname that he’s always called me creepily, even when I was just a kid. 

“I’m due a break sir. I was headed to the mess quarters” I reply, picking up my pace. I know that if we get into a public space, he’ll leave me alone. He wouldn’t dare draw negative attention to himself. 

“Tut-tut. It’s not the mess quarters, is it? You’re not in the military now sweetheart. You can’t escape him forever” 

“Escape who?” booms the voice of Bucky Barnes. Never in my life have I been so grateful to see a 6ft something super soldier. 

Over the past few months, Bucky has been somewhat of a brother-figure to me. The saying ‘it takes one to know one’ has never been more accurate when it comes to shared trauma. Every time I look into his eyes it’s like looking into a mirror reflection of my own…deep purple bags from lack of sleep, dull irises as the pain of the past swims across them, and pupils always darting around, waiting for the next attack. I know he sees exactly the same in me. But he never asks, and neither do I. Sometimes it’s like we function on a wavelength no one else reaches. I know when he has had a tough night, and he knows when I failed to slay my own demons. 

 I spun around to definitely check he was there. Brock wouldn’t dare try anything in front of the Winter Solider…even he’s not that stupid. 

“See ya later baby cakes” Brock winked at me, then turned around headed back to the gym. Bucky began walking toward me. 

“Baby cakes?” Bucky asked, quirking an eyebrow but coming up by the side of me as I continued walking. 

“Long story” I muttered, hoping he’d drop it like he does all the other times something seems to bother me.

 And at the moment, everything seems to bother me. God, they’re never going to want to keep me around after this, and the thought of it almost takes my breath away. I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am, to forget the past. And it seems to just keep catching up to me. Bucky seems to pick up on my melancholy. 

“Hey. You know that if anything or anyone bothers you, you can always come to me. Or Steve. Or Sam. Heck, you could come to any of us, and we’d help you. We like ya y/n and we want you around.” 

“Thanks Buck. I know you guys are there.” I reply, struggling to keep the tears at bay. “Why are you down here anyway?” I question, realising that he’s not scheduled for training today. He places an arm around my shoulder looking slightly sheepish as he waves his phone with his metal arm at me. 

“Steve was worried about ya. Sent me and Sam looking for you, and by the looks of it, it was a good job too. I don’t like that Brock guy and I certainly don’t trust him. In fact, I’m yet to meet an agent who does.” He warns, but I can’t entirely focus on what he says as I’m too focused on the fact that Steve sent him and Sam to look for me… for me. To make sure I was okay. And they came. 

“Trust me Bucky, I can handle myself.” I try to reassure him. 

“Trust me, I know. Doesn’t mean I don’t worry about ya doll”.

There is so much sincerity in his eyes I find it hard not to tell him the whole thing. Realistically, I know I should tell them. They can get rid of Luke. They can protect me, and the child in me yearns for protection, but adult me knows they have much worse to deal with. 

“Aww that’s cute old man” I joke, hoping to change the subject, but one look into his eyes tells me he knows what I’m doing. 

I’m deflecting. Hiding something. It’s the same look he gave me when we first met, and then when I saw Luke in the lobby, and pretty much every time I’ve seen him since. 

“Okay doll. I won’t push. If there’s one thing I know about you by now, it’s that if you don’t wanna talk about it, you’re not going to.” 

“Thanks Buck.” Is all I can utter.

“But you can buy me lunch” he winks. 

1 week later…

It’s been torture. All of the avengers got called out on an emergency mission that’s hydra-related. I’m not supposed to know that, but the avengers seem to trust me enough to tell me. 6 days ago they went, which means it’s been 6 days of Brock-related hell. He automatically took over as head-trainer and he has not let me forget it. And he definitely doesn’t pull his punches. 

Thankfully at 4:37am this morning Steve sent a message to say they were all on their way back, and all completely unharmed following a highly successful mission. But that doesn’t mean they’re back yet. It’s just past 1 and still no sign, which means I’m here in the gym. Alone. With Rumlow. It’s lunchtime and all the other agents have gone, but he’s kept me back. 

“I thought we’d step up your training a bit” he sneered. I heard the door open but didn’t need to look to know what he’d done. Ever since I got my dad arrested, both Luke and Brock have been looking for a way to get back at me. Now’s their chance with no one around to stop them. 

STEVE’S POV

Just after lunchtime we got off the helicarrier. Covered in sweat, grime, and other people’s blood, all I wanted to do was take a shower, but the fact that y/n wasn’t there waiting like she said she would be at lunch concerned me. Her text read: “If you’re not back by lunch, I’ll go wait at the landing pad for you. Don’t leave me there hanging yeah ;)”. So, for her to not be here, when I know full-well that it’s the agents’ scheduled lunch time was extremely concerning, and Bucky and Sam seemed to pick up on my worry too. 

“Come on, let’s head to the cafeteria, maybe she’s just waiting in line for food” Sam offered hopefully. 

Both Sam and Bucky were also excited to see y/n, they have sort of adopted her as their younger sister and treat her as such, so I know they’re just as worried as I am. 

There was still no sign of y/n in the cafeteria, but a quick glance around showed it full of other trainees. So why wasn’t she here? 

“Looking for agent y/l/n?” one of them asked.

“Yes, do you know where she is?” Sam replied eagerly.

“Agent Rumlow kept her behind. Don’t want to imagine why though. Think he might have a bit of a crush on her, keeps calling her baby cakes and says he wants to ‘elevate her training’. Fucking creep.” The agent replies, but visibly pales when they realise what they said.

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean…he just…” 

“Don’t worry kid. Don’t tell anyone but I agree” I respond as Bucky roars out 

“SON OF A BITCH” then thunders off down the corridor to the gym, causing Sam and I to quickly follow him. 

“I told her he’s a creep. I told her I didn’t trust him. I knew something like this would happen” he grumbled to himself. 

“What do you mean Buck?” Sam asks, voice dangerously low. 

“Yeah Buck, what do you mean?” I all but growl, heart thundering at the thought of y/n being hurt at the hands of that weasel Rumlow. 

“The other day when you asked us to find her, I caught him following her calling her Baby cakes. He’s been worrying me where she’s concerned for weeks but she promised me it was okay” he admitted dejectedly, but before we could respond, we heard the faint cries of y/n. 

Y/N’s POV

“NO. STOP. PLEASE. LUKE NO I’M SORRY” I cry out, but he still punches me. 

Brock thought it would be good for us to spar together. I know that really, it’s a cover up in the name of ‘payback’ but I thought my training would kick in. I thought I’d be able to stand up to him this time, but I guess not. Before I realise it, I’ve collapsed to the floor and curled up in the foetal position, arms over my head, being transported back to all those times when I was 13 that Luke hit me and kicked me over and over. I peek over my arm but quickly lower my head when I see his leg lifting ready to kick me. But the hit never came. Slowly I lifted my head, and my eyes connected with the beautiful, sweet, but angry blue eyes of Steve Rogers. Gently he reaches out a hand to stroke away some hair from my face that had come loose from my ponytail. I took the hand he extended to me and allowed him to pull me up into a standing position. I didn’t fight it when he tugged me closer so he could place one arm around my waist and tuck me into his chest. In fact, I welcomed it, placing my own hand on his chest and burrowing closer for protection. The flight instinct still hadn’t retreated, and I’m sure that if he wasn’t holding me, I’d have collapsed. 

Before Steve could actually ask me if I was okay, and I know he was intending to as his lips were forming the words, we heard a sickening crunch and a pain-filled moan. Looking over to the sound, we saw Bucky stood over Luke who had evidently just been punched in the face, and Sam staring Rumlow down. 

“How’d you like that you sick fuck?” Bucky seethed. 

“Call it payback, bitch.” Luke hisses as he spits blood.

“The fuck did you just say” Sam hisses.

“You heard me. That’s for sending dad to prison” 

“Watch your fucking mouth” Bucky warns again, gripping Luke by the shirt and pulling him forward. 

“Buck” Steve warns, trying to deescalate the situation. He could probably tell how upset I was from my trembling that I just couldn’t control. 

“What you gonna do metal man? Punch me again. She fucking deserved it” Luke smirked. 

“Fuck yeah, she did. Had it comin’ for years” Brock added. And this time it was him that got his nose broken…by Sam. 

“Please” I begged. 

They needed to shut up. The guys couldn’t know. They weren’t supposed to know my dad went to prison and that I’m the reason he’s there. They absolutely can’t know that Luke is my brother and that I grew up with Brock. That is supposed to go to the grave. 

At the sound of my voice, both Brock and Luke turned to me. They were both being held back my Sam and Bucky, but even with the added protection of 3 avengers, I still couldn’t get over the fear. It was evident that my attackers had picked up on that. 

“Aw…doesn’t your boyfriend know?” Luke sneered. 

“Do you want us to tell them?” 

“Please. Don’t. I’ll leave…I’ll go and pretend this never happened. Please.” I begged and begged. 

Steve’s arm gripped me even harder, and I felt his eyes burning into me. But I couldn’t look up and meet them because I knew I’d break. In fact, I couldn’t look at any of the guys. Shame and embarrassment at the scene I was causing filled me.  

“Tell us what? What’s going on doll?” Steve probed. 

“Look at you…daddy’s little plaything got Captain America wrapped around her finger”. 

“ENOUGH” roared the voice of Nick Fury. Things were so intense none of us even registered the doors banging shut. 

“Get these little shits out of my gym. Get them out of this goddamn tower and terminate their employment. Drop them at the bottom of the Hudson for all I care. Just get them anywhere but here.” He ordered as a swarm of agents flocked to Luke and Brock and began dragging them out. Just as Luke passed the director, Fury reached out and grabbed him. 

“Don’t you ever open your mouth to her again. Both you and your precious daddy are fucked up, and I aint got no place for you here.” He sneered. My heart dropped at his comments though. He knew. Of course, he fucking knew. You can’t hide anything from these guys. Embarrassment hit me again. I tried to shrink away from Steve, but it was too late. One glance around the room revealed my worst fears. Bucky, Sam and Steve had caught on to what he said and were beginning to form their own conclusions. They were dying to ask me what he meant. 

“Doll?” Bucky said, but his tone revealed it was more of a question. Shit. I’m going to have to tell them. They won’t let this go. 

“I need 5” was all I said before I raced out of the room to gather my thoughts. 

STEVE’S POV

What the fuck is going on? I know y/n was distracted but I didn’t realise it had something to do with Rumlow. And what did he mean with ‘daddy’s little plaything?’…I have an idea about what he could mean, but I really hope it isn’t…for the sake of my job and good image. One glance at Bucky and Sam told me they were thinking the same thing. 

“Fury what the hell is going on?” Bucky asked, voice shaking with anger. 

“It’s not for me to tell, but that brother of hers is a nasty piece of work. You need to find her and ask her yourself.” He replied. 

“Her brother?”

“She has a brother?” both Sam and I asked at the same time. What in the world is going on? 

When y/n left she said she needed 5 which was understandable, so we decided to take the time to head back to our rooms and freshen up, still dressed in tactical suits and covered in grime. 

“This might be a bad time, but I don’t have any fresh towels. I forgot to do my laundry before we left.” Bucky muttered sheepishly. 

“Would you like to borrow a towel?” I prompt as we head out of the elevator. 

“Yes please” he smiles back, following me to my room. 

“I’ll catch up with you guys later” Sam mumbles, carrying on past to his own room. The fact that he hasn’t quipped at Buck over not washing his towels reminds me of the severity of what just happened. 

Upon opening my door, I was surprised to see y/n sat on the edge of my bed, tear tracks down her face.

“Baby?” I asked, prompting her to look up and hastily wipe the tears from her face. I was still stood in the door when she replied. 

“I’m sorry for rushing out like that. I knew if I went back to my room I wouldn’t come back out. Also, I feel safer in here yanno. I’m sorry for invading your privacy” she mumbles. I step forward to comfort her, but she spots Bucky. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry” she practically cries out, rushing up off the bed trying to get past me. I place my hands on her shoulders and guide her back to the bed. 

“Don’t be silly doll” 

“Sorry sweetheart, I just came to borrow a towel” Bucky admits sheepishly. At his admission she wrinkles her nose, which causes me to chuckle slightly, along with Bucky. 

“I know. A grown as adult borrowing his buddy’s towel.” He jabs at himself.  

“Nah, you just stink” she jokes back, prompting him to wrap an arm around her and turn her to him, but that brings her face into the light causing us to notice the now very visible bruise and split lip she was sporting from her earlier attack. Both Buck and I gasp. She tries to turn away, but he doesn’t let her. 

“Oh doll, I’m so sorry we couldn’t get there in time” Buck apologises.

“What do you mean? If it wasn’t for you two and Sam, then I’d probably be holed up in the med wing by now. And that’s if Brock decided to let me live. Thank you by the way. I’m so sorry to have dragged all of you into this but I am so grateful.” 

“Please don’t thank us. I’ve told you before that we care for you and want to help you”

“Yeah sweet. Don’t thank us. Just please let us in.” I beg. “We can’t help if we don’t know what’s going on”. 

I can tell that she’s thinking of letting it out. In fact, I know she was when she decided to come to my room, but when she glanced up at Bucky I realised that it was only me she intended to tell. Apparently, Bucky guessed this too. 

“Say less, I’ll grab the towel and be gone” he smiles and presses a soft kiss to her forehead before heading out. 

“Sit down doll. I’m going to go and take a quick shower, but I’ll be straight back. You can tell me anything. It doesn’t have to be it all. Just let me in” Taking a few steps closer makes my stomach churn as I see more and more of the damage to her face. 

Without realising I’ve reached a hand up to stroke the side of her face gently. I hear her breath hitch and then see her wince in pain. She notices that I’ve noticed. 

“He landed a few kicks in my ribs before you got there” she admits shakily, and it’s the first time I notice the tears filling her eyes again. Placing both hands on each side of her face, I step closer. 

“What did he do to you baby?” I murmur to myself, but y/n heard it. Before I can say anything else she leapt forward into my arms, planting her face into my chest and wrapping her arms around me as she sobs into me. 

“Shush…it’s okay baby. I got you” I murmur wrapping my own arms around her and placing my chin on her head. I guide us to my bed to sit down but she climbs straight into my lap. 

“I’m so…so…*hiccup*…sorry” she sobs. 

“No…no sweetheart. You take your time” 

“No…you wanted a shower and I’m stopping you” she mutters as she tries to stand up again. I pull her closer. 

“You gotta stop apologising. My shower can wait. You, on the other hand, are more important and I will do anything to make you realise that.” 

At my admission, she begins to visibly relax, until she looks down and notices she’s straddling my lap. A red hue emerges over her neck and cheeks, and whilst I am 100% A-OK with the proximity, I don’t want to make her feel any more uncomfortable, so I slowly lower my arms which prompts her to slide off into a seated position next to me. From here, we can see out of the floor to ceiling windows, so we spend about 10 minutes just sat staring out in comfortable silence. 

“Luke Jackson is my brother. Older brother. Brock Rumlow is his best friend, and they have been the best of friends since they were literal kids. Since before I was born” She begins. At this, I turn my body slightly towards her to let her know that I’m listening, but her gaze is still fixed out of the window.

“The other day when I saw Brock for the first time, it was like everything came rushing back. I knew he’d recognised me. I hoped that he’d lost contact with Luke, and then I saw him in the lobby. I should have known better. I should have told someone. Maybe this never would have happened.” Y/n mimics my movements this time and turns to face me. 

“When I was 13, my school found out that my dad wasn’t treating me right, so he got arrested. Was put away with a lonnngggg sentence. Not long enough in my opinion but it’s better than nothing, I guess. Brock and Luke were pissed. Dad and Luke always got along well in the ‘hate-y/n’ fan club, and Brock fitted in really fucking well. You see they all adored my mom, but unfortunately, she died from complications stemming from my birth. So, they all blamed me. And when dad got arrested, Luke was already 18 and I had no other surviving relatives, so he had to take care of me. Already he hated me because I killed his mom, then I got his dad arrested, and then to add fuel to the fire, he had to take care of me. This anger had to be channelled somehow, so he took it out on me. Started with pushing me around a little, throwing stuff at me and calling me names. Then it progressed to full on beating me up, allowing Brock to join in, starving me, humiliating me, getting rid of all of my belongings when I was at school, locking me out. You name it, he did it, all with the help of his bestie Brock. One day when I turned 16 I had enough, so I ran away. Ran past the army recruitment office, saw they provided a place to live, and never looked back.” That son of a bitch. 

“Fuck, baby. I’m sorry” I breathe out. 

I notice her eyes wandering to my hands, and it’s only then that I realise that I’ve been gripping the comforter too tight and have ripped it in several places. I release them and tentatively place one hand over hers. All of a sudden, tears begin cascading down her cheeks, so I tug her towards me and drag her back to the headboard, with my back laid against it and y/n curled into my side. 

“I don’t usually cry this much. It’s just been so long since I’ve told anyone this. Elle is the only other person who knows.”

I didn’t know what to do with all her honesty, so the best I could do was make her feel comfortable and safe enough to cry it out. After about half an hour, her sobs quieten, but the tears are still falling. 

“I know you want to ask. I heard what Fury said. And Luke.” She whispers. 

Of course I want to ask, but I don’t want to seem too intrusive. She’s just admitted that I’m the only other person she’s told, and although it warms my heart that she trusts me so much, I don’t want to break that trust. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to doll.” Is all I say. 

“Well, I didn’t want to tell you about Luke, but I kind of feel better now that you know. Less to hide” she sighs, wrapping an arm across my stomach and burrowing even further into me. 

We’re not exactly strangers to this type of physical intimacy. Several times we have ended up in positions such as this, either from movie nights, game nights, one of Stark’s parties, or even just chilling in each other’s’ rooms. But the additional emotional intimacy elevates our closeness to another level, and it’s one I could get used to, and by the way y/n’s body language is practically screaming relaxation despite the conversation topic, I can tell she feels the same. She takes a deep breath, then pulls away from me and turns on her side to face me. I do the same. 

“Please don’t think of me any differently for what I’m about to tell you. I was young…a literal child. I knew know better and I hate myself for it every day.”

My heart begins to pound. I have a gut feeling that what she is about to tell me will make my stomach churn, but I know I have to be strong for her. 

“Is this to do with your father?” I question meekly. She nods. 

“Baby, I would never judge you, you know that right?” She nods again.

 “Okay, you can tell me.” I probe. 

“When I was a child, from around the age of 7 to 13 my father…he…he” she looks up into my eyes. Gently I smile, to encourage her and let her know that it’s okay. This is a safe space. 

“When I was a child, myfathersexuallyabusedme” y/n rushed out. 

Y/N’S POV

The words came out as more of a jumble really, but one look at Steve’s face told me he heard and understood every word. His eyes darkened, anger swimming in throughout the pools of blue, but deep down I knew he would never hurt me, so I surprised myself by carrying on. Telling Steve of this was a lot easier than I suspected it would be, which is exactly what happened when I told Elle. 

“The way my father phrased it, was that I had killed his personal ‘plaything’, so the least I could do was fill in for her whilst he looked for a replacement. I won’t go into specifics, but you can sort of guess…” I trail off. 

“Jesus fucking Christ” he grumbled out, looking up at the ceiling.

 His reaction caused tears to start forming again, and at my hesitation he looked back at me. 

“No baby, not at you. At him. You can carry on, I’m sorry.” Jesus, could this man get any more perfect? 

“At the time, I was so desperate to make him like me that I would have agreed to do anything. I didn’t really understand what he was asking of me, but I think that even if I did, I still would have agreed. I just wanted to be loved.” I admit. “I still do”. I trail off sadly. 

“You are baby. You are so loved.” Steve mumbles as he pulls me back onto his chest, wrapping an arm around me. Never have I felt so safe and secure, and I feel the need to tell him. 

“I’ve never felt so safe with someone before as I do with you.” 

“That’s because I’m a superhero.” He brushes it off nonchalantly. 

“No, it’s because you’re Steve Rogers.” 

My heart does a little flip at the blush that rises on his cheeks. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a slight crush on the super soldier. He’s been my go-to…my rock for 6 months now. Never have I felt so comfortable with someone before, not even Elle. But I know he’d never look twice at some rookie agent like me, and he certainly won’t now he knows how broken I am. What perfect golden boy would want damaged goods. It’s almost as if he can hear those thoughts. 

“None of that was your fault sweetheart. Your father is one sick fuck, Fury got that right. Your brother and Brock are even fucking worse for condoning it. You didn’t kill your mother either. It was unfortunate circumstances. You deserved love then, and you deserve it now. And you have it now. From me, Buck, Sam, Nat, Tony…heck, even Fury has a soft spot for you. Never have I seen him lose his cool like that. He just fired one of his top agents.” 

Steve’s words bring tears to my eyes again, but this time they’re accompanied with a smile. 

“I love you guys too.” I admit, laying my head back onto his chest. 

“Fury knows.” Is all he says. 

“I know. I think I knew he’d find out somehow, with all the extensive background checks. The army found out too, but luckily, they never needed to bring it to light. He didn’t tell Bucky or Sam, right?” I panic, quickly raising my upper body again. 

“No…no…shush. Relax. He said it wasn’t his place, only that your dad and brother were sick fucks/nasty pieces of work.” 

“Oh, thank god. Do you think I’ll have to tell the others.”

“No, not if you don’t want to. They will completely understand. We know better than anyone else what it is like to have a dark past. Just know that they will support you no matter what…myself included.”

Gently I lay back down again, realising just how exhausted I am now that all my adrenaline has worn off. Steve senses my tiredness. 

“Go to sleep baby.”

“What about your shower?” I ask, mid-yawn. 

“It can wait. Everything can wait for you.” He whispers close to my ear, but I’m so exhausted that by the time it fully registers what he said, my eyes are already closed and I’m practically asleep. 

STEVE’S POV

With y/n lay so cutely on my chest asleep, I have to keep reminding myself to think about anything other than what she’s just told me. Because every time I do, I go rigid with pure white, hot, blinding rage and unconsciously tense every muscle, causing her to whine in discomfort. What hurts the most is that she has only ever confided optionally in one other person, and that person hasn’t been speaking to her for 6 months. Especially since she spotted Luke and has been working with Brock. Having no one to talk to about this must have been almost impossible, hence why she was so distracted. The thought of it makes me even more grateful for my best friends Sam and Bucky. Especially for how they looked after her today. Knowing that they have her back just as much as I do eases some of my tension, and reminding myself that she came to my room to confide in me, and said she feels safest with me, not even with Captain America, but with me, Steve Rogers, makes my heart do a little flip. One final glance down at her beautiful face relaxing from her peaceful slumber causes me to shut my eyes and relax just for a little bit, but it’s not long until the exhaustion from the mission and adrenaline rush of the day catches up to me, and soon I too am floating through dream land.

A Few Days Later…

Y/N’s POV

I can’t remember the last time I felt this free. I have no secrets from Steve (other than the fact that I am crushing on him BIG TIME) and it feels so fucking nice. He’s really helped me ever since the incident, making sure I get access to proper therapy. The school offered me some when I was younger, but it was the low-grade stuff that didn’t even scrape the surface, especially as the school counsellor really wasn’t equipped to deal with such trauma. 

Bucky and Sam have also been incredible. In the end I decided to tell them about it all. Telling Steve felt so freeing, and both he and my therapist helped me to understand that it wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault that my mom died. It wasn’t my fault that my dad sexually abused me. It wasn’t my fault that my dad got sent to prison for the crime that HE committed, and I certainly wasn’t to blame when Brock and Luke couldn’t contain their anger. 

I decided that I wanted to tell them in Steve’s room again, it had become my safe space, and with Steve holding my hand (quite literally) I plucked up the courage to tell them. Sam was super sweet, falling into his VA role with words of encouragement, telling me how proud of me he was and that he would support me no matter what. Bucky on the other hand had to be restrained by Steve for 5 minutes to prevent him from, in his own words ‘finding those little shits, detaching each of their limb’s piece by piece, and finally putting a bullet between their eyes.’ As for my dad, bucky devised the plan of ‘chopping his dick off and suffocating him with it.’ Whilst the idea of both plans was very tempting, the thought of Bucky having to face the repercussions was more concerning. 

Eventually, he agreed not to carry out his plans, just fantasise about them instead, and as soon as Steve released him, he darted up and pulled me into a bear hug. 

“They should have protected you, not blame you. I would have protected you. You’re like my little sister.” He whispered into my hair. I then felt two more arms wrap around me from the back, causing Bucky to groan. 

“Shut up Buck, this isn’t about you.” Sam warned, but I could feel him grinning into my neck. 

“He’s right though, they should have protected you. I would have protected you.” He admitted sincerely. 

“I wish you two were my brothers instead” I well up, causing more tears to fall. 

“Well I guess that makes it official then. You have now adopted two new brothers.” Bucky jokes, picking me up and spinning me around. Their words cause tears to form in my eyes. He places me down and gives me an earnest smile. 

“Thanks guys. Love ya.” Sam pulls me into a side hug and kisses my forehead. 

“Love you too girl.” 

Fury gave me the option of pressing charges against Brock and Luke, but I decided not to. I was fortunate enough that I didn’t have to actually tell Fury, he just did his research, but with a strong promise from the guys not to tell anyone, and the Avengers not to pry (because of course they found out something had happened) I wanted to do my best to move on from it. The thought of having to unpack all of that in a courtroom for a bunch of random people made me want to vomit. Instead, Steve, Sam, and Bucky went on a ‘mini mission’ to locate Brock and Luke, take them to an abandoned warehouse, and quite literally threaten them within an inch of their life (well…that was mainly Bucky) that if they ever came near me again, or told a soul, then their bodies would wash up on the shores somewhere in Europe. And it seemed to have worked. They were wiped from the S.H.I.E.L.D employee database and were almost already forgotten. 

Bucky took over Rumlow’s training schedule for the trainees and the change in everyone’s moods was instant. Rather than being bullied for our weaknesses, Bucky, Steve or Sam would pull us aside and help us to fix it. Now, as a team, we are stronger than ever, passing physicals and aptitude tests better than any of us did before. It feels good to know they support us. Steve also pulled me aside to tell that me that Fury is still considering me for further training to support the Avengers when we graduate in about 4 months. 

On the surface, life looked pretty good. But there was still one thing I hadn’t done. 

“Are you sure it’s okay for her to come here?” I asked Bucky for the hundredth time. 

“Doll…please. Stop asking me. Of course it is. She passed the clearance so there are no issues. Unless she’s like secretly Hydra and this was all a ruse to infiltrate us.” He finishes with a wink. I gasp in mock shock. 

“How could you say that?” I smile as I place a hand on my chest and feign hurt. Normally I would have asked Steve, but he had to go on a quick mission with Sam and given that I’m not a fully-fledged agent I needed someone to supervise her entrance to the tower for clearance. So here we are, stood side by side in front of the back entrance to the tower. I told Elle to meet me around here to prevent garnering too much attention on Bucky. You’d be amazed at how many women fawn all over him. 

“You’d be surprised by what they try to do.”

“Well, I can assure you I’m not Hydra. Just plain ‘ol Elle” comes a quiet voice from behind. Both Bucky and I turn around at the same time, and both of our breaths hitch. Mine from the shock of seeing her in front of me after so long and missing her so much. One look at Bucky and the heart eyes he was making at her told me all I needed to know. 

“Hi” she squeaked out. I couldn’t form the words to say how I felt, so instead I rushed forward into her arms, and she welcomed me. 

“I missed you so much” I whisper. We stand like that for about 5 minutes until Bucky quietly coughs behind us. 

“Not that I want to break this up, but…” he trails off. 

“Oh yeah…of course. Sorry Buck” I wince as I step back. He reaches his hand out to Elle. 

“Hi, I’m Bucky” he winks, turning on his famous charm. 

“Elle” she smiles back shyly. Well this is going to be fun. 

6 Months Later…

Y/N’S POV

If you could go back in time and change the way you did things, you would. It turns out that telling people your past is very cathartic. Now, when you wake up, you actually feel the sun on your skin, not just peeking through the dark cloud that is your past. And this sun is especially bright today. 

“GOOD MORNING HONEY”

“GET UP BABYDOLL” 

“Guys, give the lady some respect.”

Hearing them outside your door brought the biggest of grins to your face. 

“FUCK OFF” you shout back.

“Hey, I was nice to you.” Steve quips back. Of course he was. He always is. Ignoring the tiny flip your heart does when you hear his voice, you peel back the covers. 

Today is probably the most important day of your life. You graduate S.H.I.E.L.D training. That’s right. You become a fully-fledged agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. 

“Move your asses weirdos. Y/N open up.” Comes the very demanding voice of your best friend Elle. 

Why is she here in the tower you ask. Well, three guesses. Ever since Bucky set his eyes on her that fateful day six months ago, they’ve been absolutely smitten with each other. Within a week of meeting each other, they’d been on 4 dates and couldn’t stop gushing about each other. After a brief 2-month deployment, they became inseparable. Any day off they have together, they spend together. Both in bed and out of it. It can be sickening at times, but most of the time it’s actually really sweet to see them both so happy together. Plus, with Elle staying with Bucky all of the time, it means you get to see your best friend regularly, albeit with Bucky tagging along. But he’s more like a bodyguard, just hanging back, loitering ready to protect from any danger. 

You see, Bucky loves you both but in different ways. You’re like his little sister, and ever since the incident he has turned up the protectiveness. Even though he saw and instilled the fear himself in Brock and Luke’s eyes, he still worries that they’ll turn up for one last attempt at punishment. Elle is the love of his damn life. When you know, you know. She sees him for him. There’s no Winter Soldier with her. There’s no super solider with her. He’s just Bucky. 

The only problem with seeing your best friend all the time is also hearing her. All night. Bucky’s room is next to yours and opposite Steve’s which means Sams’ room is the quietest (though you can still hear EVERYTHING) which means that the 3 of you have found yourselves huddled in his room with a spontaneous movie night too many times to count. Even with the volume impossibly loud, there’s no mistaking what they’re doing, especially poor Steve with his super-hearing. The worst part is the next morning when trying not to make eye contact. 

But overall, you, Steve and Sam couldn’t be happier for them two. 

At this point, all 4 of them have seen you at your worse, so after quickly brushing your teeth you don’t even bother with pants or brushing your hair before you open your door. 

“WHY are you 3 out here shouting like idiots.” 

“BECAUSE IT’S YOUR BIG DAY GORGEOUS” Sam grins. 

“Did you really think we wouldn’t make a big deal of today?” Bucky smirks. 

“And your excuse golden boy?” you ask, cocking your hip as you turn towards Steve, but at his silence you bring your eyes to his face only to find that he’s not looking at yours, instead raking his gaze along your legs. You feel the blush creep up your neck, and at Bucky’s snicker you know he’s seen it too. 

“Ahem” Sam coughs, also smirking. 

“Sorry, what?” Steve asks shaking his head a bit, and when his gaze meets yours, he at least has the decency to look slightly sheepish. 

“Why are you here?” you ask.

“It’s your big day baby, we gotta celebrate you properly starting with the best breakfast we can find.” He smirks widely at the nickname he dropped. 

If there’s one thing about America’s golden boy, it’s that he is far from being a golden boy. He knows what it does to you when he calls you ‘baby’. Everyone knows what it does to you. There’s no way he doesn’t know about your affections towards him, but as a trainee it is wildly inappropriate for him to even acknowledge them. You have no idea whether or not Steve reciprocates, and even though Sam, Bucky, and even Elle try to tell you that he is just as sweet on you, you still have doubts. Technically you finished the academy weeks ago so there’s no reason why he hasn’t made a move yet. Knowing that he doesn’t feel the same way does make you feel awful, but being able to elicit these small moments of flirting fills the void just enough to get through the day. So even though it’s like slow torture, you’ll take it. 

“Precisely.” Elle speaks up, breaking your trance with Steve. 

“Seriously Elle, could you find a shorter t-shirt” you joke with her upon taking in her appearance. 

Messy sex hair and the shortest t-shirt known to man that barely covers her tiny thong is all that adorns your best friends’ body. Meanwhile you’re stood there in an old pyjama t-shirt and wearing the ugliest boy shorts with messy bed hair. Not sex hair. If there’s was ever an image to highlight the differences between you and your best friend, it would be this. And even though you love her like a sister, it’s hard not to feel insecure in her presence when she looks so hot, and you don’t, especially with Steve here, making it painfully evident that you are not worthy of the hot super soldier. Elle is hot. She is worthy of a super soldier superhero. You are not. 

With Elle being the best person in the world, she reads your emotions in your eyes, and if there’s one thing this girl knows how to do, it’s change the subject and make you feel better. 

“Oh hush, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before” she winks.

“Oh that’s hot” Sam practically groans out. 

“Gross” you and Elle say at the same time, wrinkling your noses. 

“Hey”

 “Oi” Steve and Bucky shout at the same time, each slapping Sam around the back of head. 

“That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about perv” Bucky grumbles, pulling off his own t-shirt and pulling it down over Elle which covers up considerably more. 

“And that’s my…” Steve hesitates, causing you all to look at him. “Friend” he mumbles, as though in pain. You know that’s all you are, but it still hurts. 

“We were roommates you freak” Elle hisses, shoving you into your room. “Bye boys. See you at breakfast” she shouts over her shoulder as she pushes you both into your room and slams the door. 

“That boy is so damn soft on you” she grins. 

“Elle, please. Not today.” You mumble, heading to your closet to pick out your outfit for the day, fighting the tears slowly pooling in your eyes. 

“Okay babe. I won’t push it; I can tell it’s not the right time. But I’m not letting this go.” She warns as she exits your room. 

You know exactly what she refers to: you pining after Steve. If there was one person who would notice, it would be her, which means she also knows how disappointed you are that Steve hasn’t made a move yet, and as today technically marks your final day as a trainee, it means he isn’t interested at all if he was going to make a move he would’ve. This means that, as of 4pm this afternoon, at the end of the ceremony you will officially be in the mourning period of what could have been with Steve. The thought of Steve not reciprocating your feelings shattered your soul. After you told Steve everything, he promised you that he didn’t see you any differently, but you can’t help but doubt that. Especially when everyone tells you Steve likes you, yet he shows no signs of it. 

Graduation day officially marks the end of your trainee phase leaving you as a fully certified S.H.I.E.L.D agent, so if Steve wanted to make a move, then he could. Relationships with superiors are frowned upon as a trainee: people could argue Steve (and Bucky by virtue) gave you special treatment. Training ended 6 weeks ago with final exams already being marked and assessed, yet Steve hasn’t made a move, clearly highlighting his lack of interest, hence your glum mood. Even on a day which is supposed to be one of the best in your life, your heart feels like it is breaking in two. Of course you are insanely proud of yourself; not only did you finish top of your classes in everything, but you also faced your personal demons. 

With that thought in mind, you managed to pluck up enough courage to dress somewhat nicely (though the lure of comfy loungewear was incredibly strong knowing how uncomfortable you would be in your formal S.H.I.E.L.D wear at the ceremony later on) and meet the guys in the kitchen for breakfast. 

“HOT STUFF” Sam greeted loudly, running over to you and spinning you round. The affection in his actions warmed your soul, so you allowed yourself to grin widely and push your longing to the back of your mind in order to enjoy your day with everyone as much as possible. Afterall, it isn’t often that you get to enjoy all 4 of your best friends together. 

A FEW HOURS LATER…

“Congratulations agent y/l/n, I can’t wait to work alongside you.” Steve said as he approached you and gathered you into a huge hug. 

The ceremony where all new agents go up and collect their S.H.I.E.L.D agent badge just ended and lord were you relieved. Yes, you look smart and quite well put together, but the itch of the starchy uniform was really starting to irritate you. You couldn’t wait to get out of it and into your beautiful new dress for the afterparty later. 

“Aw thanks Steve. I couldn’t have done it without you, or you two” you coo. 

Several times the 3 soldiers have tried to downplay their role in your success, but honestly, without Steve’s constant support and unwavering faith in your ability to overcome your past, you wouldn’t have been able to make it through the mental demands of the job. Not only that, but Bucky and Sam became lifelines when it came to the physical side of training. Bucky helped you master wielding a weapon quicker than any trainer in the army ever did; the army taught you that it was your first line of defence, but Bucky taught you it was your last. With Sam not having any serum, he became a godsend when it came to practicing hand-to-hand combat or overcoming the physical demands of the job. Whenever you asked him to train with you, he never said no, and for that you were so grateful. Yes, you were very aware of just how fortunate you were to have all of this support. 

“Ahhhh….you’re welcome doll.” Bucky grins widely, arm slung around Elle’s shoulders. 

“Yeah honey, gotta make sure I know you got my back avenging.” Sam quipped. 

“HA” you guffawed. “I don’t think you’ll be seeing me on any avenger missions falcon.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure agent y/l/n. You have displayed a strong character and admirable determination for growth and improvement. 6 months of regular agent duties, then I want you training with the Avengers.” Nick Fury said from behind you. 

You spun around in complete shock, so surprised in fact that you missed the proud smiles on Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Elle’s faces as you met the stoic gaze of the man you held the most respect for.

“Tha..” you croaked out. With a slight cough, you began again, already feeling your blush creep up your cheeks. “Thank you, Director Fury, Sir. It would be an honour.”

“The honour would be mine.” Is all he added, with a knowing smile. It was as clear as day for anyone to see that Fury admired your strength in dealing with your family. 

“See, I told you to have more faith in yourself.” Came the deep rumble of Steve’s voice in your ear, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath caress your soft skin. Your breath hitched un your throat, and you knew Steve noticed, but with a sudden surge of confidence, you turned your head towards him and brought your gaze up to his blue eyes. 

“Lucky I have you to pick me up then” you smiled earnestly. 

“Always” came his soft reply, something in his gaze softening as he held your stare intensely. It was almost as though everything around you ceased to exist, until a rather excited agent interrupted. 

“Sergeant Barnes, are you going to keep training us in weaponry. You’re the best the academy’s ever had.” 

The agent’s exclamation startled you both, causing Steve’s head to snap up. You followed his path as you looked at the agent in question. You knew the agent had seen you and Steve positioned rather closely, and you knew Steve knew as he pushed you away from him in a desperate manner. With a grunt, he straightened the tie of his impossibly tight shirt and mumbled a quick ‘catch-up later’ before he took off into the crowd of excited new agents. 

You knew the crack in your heart was painfully evident on your face as you met the sympathetic gazes of the others. Trying to summon the last of your strength, you faked a small smile and excused yourself to the refreshments section, feigning thirst.

“Fucking punk” was all you heard from Bucky as you quickly fled the scene, trying desperately to fight the tears threatening to cascade. 

“Y/N! Y/N wait” Elle cried after you. She quickly caught up and softly grasped your arm to turn you towards her. One look at your teary eyes had her quickly pulling you away from the crowds and into a more secluded section. “Come on babe.” 

“I’m sorry. I’ll get over it, I just need a minute.”

“Take your time. Buck said this bit is reserved for this evening so no one will come here.”

“God, even those dimwits picked up on it. How dumb can I be” you cried out, not caring how much your mascara ran anymore. 

Elle gathered you up into your arms. 

“Hey, hey. I won’t have you talking about my best friend like that.” She warned. “You are not stupid. Far from it. He is the stupid one for not seeing what is right in front of him.” 

“No, no he’s not. He’s smart. Who the hell would want to be with me. I have baggage a mile wide. There’s nothing appealing about me.” You sobbed into Elle’s shoulder. 

“That’s not true” came the deep grumble of Steve’s voice behind you, in the tone he often used when you were being too hard on yourself. You squeaked in surprise, and before you could hide behind Elle, she had pulled away and muttered a quick “I’ll give you two some space.”

You swiftly dapped at your eyes and tried to muster the most neutral face you could, but it just seemed impossible. Steve had seen you at your worst, he always saw right through you, and you knew he was all too aware that the tears were because of him. 

“Baby…I…” he started, starting forward as he reached for you, but you took a step back. 

“No. Please Steve, don’t do this.” You all but begged. 

“Do what. I want to be honest with you.”

“Say something just to try to make me feel better.” 

“Sweetheart, that’s not what I’m doing. I would never do that. Everything I say to you is honest.” He replied in a surprisingly strong voice, completely contrasting his previous tone. 

“I just…god….I….I’m really” he stuttered again, voice once again becoming uncertain. He took a deep breath in, took a step towards you, and you didn’t move back this time, which seemed to encourage him to go on.

“You were so brave when you told me about your past. I’m trying to be brave like you were. God, for a super soldier I certainly lack bravery when it comes to talking.” You giggled at his rambling, watching the corners of his lips curve slightly at the sound of your laugh. This time you took the step toward him, and watched as he straightened up, as though your presence had affected him, which you knew wasn’t true.

“I like you y/n. No, in fact I love you. A lot. Like a lot, a lot. Think of all the stars and planets and galaxies and universes out there, and then times that by 1 million, and then infinity and then 4 billion and then double it. That’s how much I love you. I have loved you since the moment you cussed me out for sneaking up on you. I loved your passion when you spoke about helping people, I loved your ability to see past me as an avenger, but instead spoke to me like a normal person. Like Steve. I loved you when you immediately accepted Sam and Buck bickering like an old married couple. I loved you when you first stepped into the training arena that day with so much determination to succeed. I loved how you slotted yourself right into my life the moment you got here. One minute I’m spending every minute either alone or with Sam and Buck and wondering what I’m doing wrong in life for them to be the only people seeking me out.” 

You laughed again at his words but couldn’t stop the tears from flowing freely from your eyes. You both took a step closer to one another, this time close enough for Steve to place a hand on either side of your head, and you to brace your hands on the crisp white shirt covering his muscled chest.  

“Every morning, I awake so excited to see you. For the first time in such a long time, I can barely wait to go to sleep, because it means that when I awaken in the morning, I can think of you again.  Sleeping on missions used to be so hard, but now its slightly easier because I know I’ll see you in my dreams. You’re always there, waiting for me.”

“Steve” you practically whisper, watching tears gather in his own eyes as his thumbs wipe the tears from under your eyes. 

“But I have never loved you more than the day you opened up to me. The courage and strength it took you to tell me made me realise just how proud of you I was. I am. That night when you lay in my arms, all I could think about was how much my heartbeat for you. Even through the rage I felt, the blinding hot rage that swarmed my mind and body and soul, every move you made, every thought about you that I had, made my heart slow. Relax. Swoon. I wanted to hurt them. Torture them, not kill them because that’s the easy way out, but I wanted them to feel the pain, but I wanted you to feel safe more. Because I love you. I can’t tell you the pain I feel in my heart when I think of what they did to you, but just know that it’s nothing compared to what I will inflict on them the next time I see them, if I ever do though it’s not likely given how much Bucky made them shit their pants.” Steve joked. 

Even through your tears, you couldn’t help but smile. He loved you. He loves you. 

“I know I should have told you this sooner. Believe me, it has killed me to be around you but not be able to act on this. But I did it to protect you. I know you know what they would say about you if we were ever found out. It’s wrong, but that’s the way it is, and I hate it. Sam had to take over the agents’ physical training because I couldn’t bring myself to lay a finger on you, and if I can’t fight you then I can’t fight anyone.”

“Oh Steve. I thought it was because you were worried, I’d think you were going to hurt me like Luke and Brock” you cooed, stepping even closer this time and sliding your arms around to his back, underneath his suit jacket. 

“No baby. I just couldn’t hurt you. I thought I was discreet about it, but it turns out everyone knows how much of a goner I am for you except you, and that kills be baby. Hell, even seeing Bucky and Elle together made my heart hurt, because that should be us. I waited until today to tell you because I wanted everyone to see just how much of an amazing person you are first. I wanted people to watch you walk across that stage on your own so that they could see just how incredible you are to achieve this without anyone’s help. I know you think we helped you, but it’s all you baby girl. You’re phenomenal. You’ve done so well to be where you are today. You’ve handled everything alone and I couldn’t be prouder, so I wanted you to have one more day where you could feel the pride in yourself that I and everyone else has for you when we see you thrive. One more day before I hopefully swoop in and tell you that you don’t need to do it on your own anymore. That I am here to help you. To help carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. Before I tell you that I lov…” 

You don’t let him finish his sentence before your mind takes over your body and crashes your lips to his. It was though a thousand fireworks went off in your heart as it sung for you as though an invisible string tied to Steve’s own heart pulled you both together. You moaned and groaned into each other before the lack of oxygen caused you to pull away. 

Breathless, you both stood there gazing into each other’s eyes. Despite all he had said though, you still struggled to believe that he could want you. This brought a fresh onslaught of tears to your eyes, causing you to close them in attempt to keep them at bay. Steve seemed to sense this, and closed his own as he brought his forehead to your own. 

“Talk to me” he soothed. 

“I am not perfect.”

“I don’t want you to be.” 

“I have so much baggage Steve.”

“Good thing I’m a super soldier then with super strength.” 

“Steve, you don’t understand” 

“No. I do understand sweetheart. You think I don’t have my own baggage. Hell, I’m over 100 hundred years old.”

“What if I ruin us”

“I doubt that very much”

“No…but…what if my problems are too much.”

“You could never be too much” he soothed. 

No matter what worry you had, he found a way to oppose it. 

“But this might not be like a normal relationship though” you whimpered.

“Why” 

“Because I can’t…I don’t” you huffed in frustration. 

“Now who can’t talk” he joked. 

“Steeeveeee” you whined. “It’s not funny”

“It sort of his” he smiled. 

“What if we can’t…you know…do what other couples do. I’ve not…since my dad…yanno” 

“No, I don’t know. I need you to use your words honey” he cooed, and in that moment right then, you knew that Steve cared, already opening a line of communication for the both of you, something any healthy couple has. 

“I haven’t you know…been…” you mumbled. 

“Intimate?” he prompted. 

“Yeah” you sighed out in relief that he finally got what you were trying to say. Looking up into the crystal blue gaze, you realised that the judgement you feared wasn’t there, prompting you to carry on. 

“I’ve never been…. intimate” you struggled “with anyone but…but him” you admitted. 

“Okay baby. Then we go slow. We go so slow that we could be together forever and only try it on our death beds. I don’t care. If you think I only want you because I want sex then clearly, I haven’t done a good enough job of proving just how much I love you.”

“NO! I…You…You’ve done a great job” you admit shyly as you begin to smile slightly again. “It’s just my stupid past interfering”

“It’s not stupid. It’s valid. We will figure it out. We will figure it all out together okay. Do you trust me?” he asked earnestly, looking so deeply into your eyes it was like your souls called out to each other. 

“Steve. Of course I do…I love you.” 

Your admission caused the man to smile so widely, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so elated. He picked you up in a bear hug and spun you around. 

“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to hear you say that” he breathed into your head once he placed you back down. “We’re in this together okay…until the end”

“The end?” you question. 

“When we’re sat on our porch holding each other watching our grandchildren and great grandchildren play as we reminisce on this very moment”. 

The very thought of doing that with him makes you smile just as wide as him. 

“Fuck. I love you Steve” 

“I know” he grins as he kisses you again.

“FUCKING FINALLY”

“GET IT GIRL”

“TOLD YOUUUU” 

You both chuckled at the mixed voices of Bucky, Sam and Elle who all stood at the edge of the area, whoop whooping and grinning so much you couldn’t help but giggle yourself. You felt Steve wrap his arms around you tightly and you nuzzled yourself into his chest. 

“I can’t wait to spend forever with you” he said, kissing the top of your head. 

“Me neither” you admit, closing your eyes and relaxing yourself completely into his embrace. 

Fuck your dad. Fuck Luke, and fuck Brock, because this. They couldn’t touch this. But god help them when Steve, Sam and Buck find them again. And god help your dad on release day. 

AHHHHHHH!!! Thank you guys for making it this far!!! I hope you enjoyed it :)

[hostclubau]

By Any Other Name

This is an x reader, multi-ending, otome style story.

fem!reader

Summary: Your life is hell, and your parents abandoned you to a literal loan shark. A near death experience has changed the trajectory of things, but is this a blessing? Or an endless fall into things far worse than you had before?

Content Warnings: The host club has an After Hours that's effectively a brothel. There are BDSM themes and the exploration of a lot of kinks. Foul language, canon levels of violence, mature audiences only.

Chapter 1: Loaned Out

Your feet hit the pavement, spurring you forward through the tangle of streets. This was your city, but it was his too, and the only hope you had at this point was to either get yourself so lost he couldn’t find you, or get yourself to the nearest Marine Station.

Frankly, you’d almost rather take your chances with the fish-man. Marines were next to useless as far as you were concerned, and the only use they had was that most people wouldn’t shoot you in front of one.

You weren’t entirely sure if Arlong was most people or not.

Leaping over some boxes in a back alley, you turned in mid-air and darted down a different alley when you landed. Running errands for that stupid shark had at least paid off in the sense that you were capable of running for a lot longer than most people.

When you were strictly forbidden from fighting, it was a life or death skill to have.

You might be trying to dodge Arlong until his temper cooled now, but more often than that you were running from his competitors, the marines, and people who knew you worked for him. They were all idiots, and not because you could slip away from them easily, but because hurting you wasn’t going to do anything.

Arlong was more likely to throw your body in the river if you got your ass beat, than he was to see you patched up after. Probably grumbling the entire time about how much money you were costing him yet again.

Fucking loan shark.

Slowing down you take a look around and realize you’re in a part of town you don’t know well. It looked like it was almost central downtown, which was well outside Arlong’s turf. It also meant that whoever was in charge of this area was probably not going to be friendly to you.

Arlong always said that downtown was more trouble than it was worth. He didn’t trade loans with people who lived or worked around here, and he didn’t offer protection for any of the businesses. You usually avoided the area too, even if a delivery would be a little faster, but only because the city’s main Marine Office was here.

Well, looking out for marines was easy enough, especially if you stayed off the main street. Alleys were alleys no matter what city or island, so it didn’t really matter to you. Slipping back into the narrower paths you meandered through the back lines of downtown.

You’d took off from Arlong’s threats just after lunch, and with the sun lower in the sky it was probably closer to seven or eight. You might be able to find a street vendor and get something greasy and filling for dinner, and then sleep somewhere out of sight. Tomorrow he’ll be calm again, or calm enough, and you can deal with him then.

The blow to your face was a surprise.

You put your arm up as you stumble backward, nearly tripping over your feet. The punch had drove your cheek into your teeth, and you could already taste copper as you lean against the far brick wall and look up to see Arlong.

“Got tired of trying to catch you when you’re bad.” He snarls, holding up his snail box and showing you the tracker app that was running on it. “Technology’s a real bitch.”

“I completed the job,” you reply, struggling to speak clearly as your cheek’s already swelling. “I don’t get why you’re pi-.” You stop yourself. “Upset. Boss.”

“The job,” he says, breathing in and giving you a terrifying grin. “Was for you to deliver the package without being seen.”

Your stomach knots. If he’s mad, and that’s why, then someone or something clocked you. Otherwise he wouldn’t waste his energy being pissy.

“… What saw me?” You question carefully.

His brows raise. “Oh? Not going to argue huh? Finally wising the fuck up.” He straightens, tapping his snail box again until he brings up a still picture of you. It’s grainy, but the sequence of images show you dropping off the box and walking away.

It was pretty obvious it was you, but only because you and Arlong knew what you looked like. There wasn’t a shot of your face, and you weren’t wearing anything to mark you as a part of anyone’s crew. It’s a struggle to keep your expression neutral, but smart mouthing back at him right now wouldn’t help you.

“… Sorry.” You settle on the simple apology over any kind of argument. It doesn’t matter how grainy it is. It doesn’t matter that your own mother wouldn’t recognize you. All that mattered was that he didn’t want anyone to see you, and you were seen. You’d been dealing with him enough years at this point to know anything more would be an excuse.

You weren’t going to grovel, however, because there was nothing useful on those stills.

“Sorry?” He prompts and grunts something akin to a laugh. “Sorry might’ve worked before you ran through downtown to avoid me, little runt.”

At nearly seven feet tall, Arlong towers over you, and his large hand gathers most of your shirt at once, as he lifts you easily and shoves you harshly against the wall. “You’re never going to pay back what you owe as a runner.” He tilts his head, leering at you in that way he does every time he tries to convince you to do more lucrative work.

“I can tack on five grand for the inconvenience, and patch job.” He indicates your swollen check with a nod of his head. “Or we can write that off as the price of on the job training and pretty you up. Much as you humans pretty up, anyway.”

“I think I’d rather be a runner.” You grunt, the soles of your shoes scratching at the brick as you struggle to find leverage.

Your father, seas take him screaming, got into debt with Arlong when you were a kid. Dear sweet dad worked for the fish-man for a couple years before he took your mom and bounced. Or Arlong killed them, you couldn’t really be completely sure one way or the other.

With mom and dad gone, and the debt still on Arlong’s books, you were hired.

Aside from barely giving you enough money to live on, while working you to the bone, Arlong hadn’t paid much attention to you. Until recently. Maybe you hit some magic number in age, or one of his clients took a liking to you, whatever the case, he was getting pushier and pushier about turning you into one of his Dolls.

The idea of getting paid to fuck didn’t bother you.

The idea of having 80% of your earnings stolen by Arlong, who only wanted you to change jobs so he could make more off you, bothered you.

Arlong falls silent for a while, and you can feel your stomach knot. The look on his face is never a good sign. He’s irritated and what little good humor he might have had a moment ago is evaporating at an alarming rate.

“Don’t be like that,” his voice is flat, save for a slight tone of disappointment. “Really think about it. You’ll never pay off your debt as a runner.”

Even with him taking most of your earnings to pay off your debt, you would have more income. You’d be able to save up, and even have a chance at freedom. Assuming you didn’t screw anything up.

Wait.

“… I’ll never pay off my debt regardless.” You reply just as flatly. Realization had long since dawned on you the nature of this game, but there was a sudden clarity this time. There were no more slaves, not even for the nobles, not since the dragons were slain over twenty years ago.

Arlong had found another way to go about it.

Sure, you could turn him and his bullshit in, but you took a risk that the marine you reported to wasn’t already in his pocket. If they weren’t, and the risk might be small so it could be worth trying, but you’d be going down with him too. No one would give a shit that the illegal things you did were because you felt trapped.

It would be your own fault for not turning him in sooner.

Frankly, it wasn’t a comforting prospect to think about ending up in prison where Arlong would have far more reach than you’d have protection. Even as a runner you made him money, more than he spent on keeping you alive at least. It was more job security than some folks had, so you didn’t want to complain.

“That’s no way to be.” He laments, patting the side of your face. “I’m sure you’ll get-.”

“Every year I manage to pay you forty thousand berries.” You interrupt him. You shouldn’t have, you shouldn’t be talking, you most certainly should not be talking like this. “My dad’s debt was two hundred and fifty thousand berries, and I’ve been working for you for well over ten years. That’s over four hundred grand even with all the additions… boss.”

Arlong lets go of you, and you barely manage to keep your feet under you. He’s mad. At this point you’re going to earn yourself a lot more than a swollen cheek, and that’s probably going to cost you some random amount tacked onto your supposed debt.

You sigh, releasing your own frustration into the air. There wasn’t enough fear in you right now, just cold sure understanding, and anger.

Now that you’ve started its like the flood gates have opened, and you can’t muster the self-preservation needed to close them.

“Every couple months or so, something always seems to come up to tack more onto the debt. It doesn’t matter what the excuse is, the point is the principle hasn’t gone down in... fuck, nearly twenty years.” You shrug, an incredulous, clipped laugh escaping you. “It’s never going to go down. Even if you put me in a sexy suit and let your shady clients sniff my pits, it’s still not going to go down. You’ll just charge me for the sleazy dress-hurk!”

Arlong’s hand is around your throat, and the force with which he grabs you bounces your head off the bricks. You can barely breathe, your head’s throbbing, and the bricks are scraping your back through your shirt as he lifts you up roughly against them. You could swear his eyes are glowing red he’s so angry, and you aren’t sure what it was you said.

You expected you were pissing him off, but this is more akin to rage.

“Little bitch grew a pair of balls when I wasn’t looking, huh?” He snarls, driving his fist into your side. The hooked swing sends a sharp pain through you and knocks what little air was left in your lungs out. “You think some weak little cumshot can talk to me like that? Gonna stand there and tell me I’m charging you unfairly, yeah?”

He loosens his grip for a second and you suck in a pained breath. You know you should be using the precious oxygen to beg for forgiveness, but maybe this was it. The limit of what you could take. You’d been running for hours, and you were hungry enough you just didn’t care.

“Gonna… really… try an’… say you… aren’t?” You manage to choke out the words, but there’s spots on the sides of your vision and your lungs are pitching a fit again. Blacking out might be the last thing you ever do, and a small part of you wanted to succumb to it. Just be done and over with it all.

What would tomorrow bring anyway?

“You fuckin-.”

“Arlong.” A woman’s voice reaches you both and you see Arlong’s eyes widen before he looks away from you. “Don’t murder someone by my club.”

The words are enough for him to release you. This time you can’t keep your feet under you and crumple onto the ground. Gasping and coughing, it takes you a moment to recover, and both the mystery voice and Arlong seem okay with giving you that time.

You get yourself set up against the wall, opting to stay down on the ground rather than try to stand, and look around enough to see the most elegant woman you’ve ever seen standing on a raised platform. It looked like the back exit to a business, a smaller man door with the words ‘Employees Only’ stenciled across it.

It was only maybe four or fives steps up from where you and Arlong were, but she looked like she was untouchable from that far up.

A puff of smoke leaves her lips and your brain catches up enough to see the long cigarette between her fingers. The edges of her bob hair cut curl up, framing her face perfectly. She’s tall, slender, and dressed casually, but you’re left with the distinct impression she could salt and burn the ground Arlong was standing on.

And he knew it.

“I’ll buy her debt.” She states, taking a slow drag on the cigarette.

“What?” Arlong almost growls the word.

She exhales. “You said so yourself. She’s got balls.” The grin on her face is comforting, but you can’t shake the strange feeling that two demons are currently haggling over who will own your soul. “I like that.”

“You don’t even know how much it is, Shakuyaku.” He grumbles.

She laughs. “You think that matters? Leave her here, Arlong. Come by tomorrow in the morning with your books, and we’ll settle the balance.”

You notice Arlong’s fist tighten, but the angel on the balcony doesn’t seem to be bothered by it. He glares down at you for a second, but doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even mouth anything as far as you can tell.

Not that he’s in a position to try and force you to turn down whatever’s being offered.

From one taskmaster to another, as far as you were concerned. The angel on the balcony only had your attention for the moment because she probably saved your life.

“You can call me Shakky,” she begins, pausing to take another drag before letting the smoke out in a slow exhale. At the very least she was more relaxing to be around than Arlong. “Can you stand?”

The question catches you off guard, and you blink dumbly a couple times before you reply. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Alright. If you get dizzy, sit back down.” She commands, taking out a snail box. She’s not watching you, but at the same time she is. Using the wall you get to your feet, but your head swims and so you just let yourself sit back down.

“I’m out back, we have a patient too dizzy to walk on her own.” She speaks in the same even and relaxed tone she’s been using from the start. You didn’t think your situation was anything to get excited about, but you wondered idly if she was ever anything other than calm. “Tell Blackleg I expect his best meal.”

She hangs up, tucking the box away and returns her focus to her cigarette. There’s silence between you that doesn’t feel heavy or awkward, but you also don’t really know where you stand. With Arlong you’d simply stay there quietly until someone came along.

Honestly, with Arlong, you’d be trying to walk no matter how dizzy you felt.

“What happens now?” You hazard the question. It’s safe enough, and you need to understand how this lady operates.

Shakky lets out another slow line of smoke and offers up a warm smile. “Our head doctor’s going to tend to you. The shift’s lead chef is going to make you something to eat, and depending on the doctor’s orders you’ll probably go to bed after that in one of the guest rooms.”

She stubs the cigarette on the railing as the door behind her opens up. A tall man steps out, and looks over at you before heading down the steps. His dusty blonde hair is pulled back into the ponytail, and he’s wearing a button up dress-shirt and slacks. There’s a noticeable scar on his forehead over his eye, but it looks like it was stitched well.

He frowns once he gets a decent look at you. “Any loose teeth?” He questions, and after you probe with your tongue you shake your head. “Feel like you’re going to vomit?”

“Not right now.”

The frown twitches into more of a smile. “Injuries anywhere I can’t see?”

“Mm.. M’back, probably.” You mutter. “Hit the bricks more’n once.”

“I’m going to shine a light in your eyes,” he explains, pulling out a small pen light, and checking your pupil’s reaction to it a couple times on each eye. He hands you a thermometer. “Under your tongue, however you can without it hurting.” He says, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead briefly.

“You should be good, but that’ll give me a more accurate reading. May I have your hand? I want to check your pulse.”

After a second’s pause you hold your hand out. He gives you thanks and then presses his fingers against your wrist for a moment, going quiet as he concentrates on his counting. Once he’s done he pulls the thermometer out and checks it.

“Nothing concerning enough to warrant the hospital.” He turns toward Shakky. “I’d like Law to scan her,” he stops and turns back to you. “If you’re okay with that. It’s a devil fruit ability, but it won’t do anything to you. It’ll just let Law know if something’s wrong that I can’t see.”

“Uh… sure?”

“Alright. I’ll get him after we get you inside and settled.” He offers you a warm smile. “My manners are awful, young miss. My name’s Hongo, if you’re not against it, it would be my pleasure to carry you inside, since you’re not feeling well.”

“I, um, I…” You stop, pressing your lips together and look over at Shakky. She’s smiling, and you can’t tell if she’s giving you permission or not, but there’s no signs of irritation on her face at all. Turning back to Hongo, you consider asking him to just give you a hand walking, but he’s a good bit taller than you.

It’s probably easier for him to just carry you. It’s not what he’s offering that has thrown you, honestly, it’s the way he offered it.

“Sure.” You aren’t sure what you expect, and accept the little medical bag he hands you before he scoops you up like some damsel in distress. Being treated kindly was wild enough, but to be carried like you weren’t just a sack of potatoes was… different.

You didn’t want to get used to it. Good things were always just a veneer. Something pretty to hide all the shit underneath no one wanted you to see. If nothing else, you had to give credit to Arlong for being ugly right up front.

But if these two wanted to feed you and let you sleep somewhere nice for a couple days, you weren’t going to say no.

[artaxlivs]

*Unless* (excerpt)

“Okay, hypothetically, if there was a werewolf that someone had seen,” Lydia rolls her eyes but Stiles continues, undeterred, “who showed up the other day with some kind of tainted touch on his magic spark,” this time she squints her eyes at him but she doesn’t stop drinking her shake, “and someone wanted to know what it was and how to get rid of it, where would you point that person?”

“Well, Stiles, I’d point them to your dad first for breaking the boundary and being close to a werewolf and then I’d point them to you to figure out how to get them to go far away from us.”

“Yeah…that’s not gonna work. I’m keeping the werewolf.”

“You cannot keep a werewolf,” she sighs, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “For so many reasons, Stiles. The first of which is that they’re dangerous. And the second of which is that you’re an idiot.”

“Lydia, please, he’s good,” Stiles pleads, giving her his saddest eyes. “But something bad is happening to him and I need to help him. Will you help me?”

She makes a little growl and stomps her foot, the petals of her flower dress shake but she goes over to the shelves and pulls down three books from them. “Here,” she shoves them at him hard enough to make him stumble backward. “Well? Take them to the table while I go find the others.”

He grins. He knew she’d help. She always does. It’s probably because she knows he’ll get into trouble without her but it might also be because she loves him just a little bit. 

(Full fic posted HERE on Ao3)

Writer: ArtaxLivs (also the moodboard)

Artist: @eviscer-8 (please go check out their book binding post of this fic and applaud their skills! It's crazy beautiful!)

Thanks to the mods at @sterekcollabang for such a fun event and for being so easy to work with. If you do it again, I'll be back! And my new friends @pkrosche and panicbutton who beta read and hyped me right out of my anxiety (thank you both!)

[kumeko]

A/N: For the Effervescence @tankanazine21 ! I was so sorely tempted to end this with Nezuko and Tanjirou dying young, my personal head canon is they died at the same time a few years after the end of the series, but I steered the train back to fluff.

…

…

…

…

i.

Tanjirou aches. It seems to be the only thing he feels these days. Wounds from demons trying to kill him. Scrapes from running away from the police. Bruises from training. There is pain and there is pain, and Tanjirou has learned to tell the various shades in between apart with the skill a painter looks at his palette. 

“Are you okay?” Kanao asks anxiously, her thin but muscular arm looped over his shoulder. They aren’t that far apart in height, but he still has to duck down slightly as she tries to support his weight.

“Good enough.” He tries to smile encouragingly but judging by her grimace he missed the mark. Or maybe that is just the blood smeared on his face, the small hobble he has to take with every step, the gasp whenever he breathes in too deeply.

He might have bitten more than he could chew in the last battle. If Kanao and Nezuko weren’t there, he isn’t sure how he would have made it. 

She gnaws her lip before suggesting, “I can take the box.”

“That…” The box on his back is a familiar weight, almost as much a part of him as his limbs. Within it is the last of his family, the only one anchoring him to the world. He would sooner strip naked than hand his sister off to someone else. Even if that someone is as trustworthy as Kanao. 

Tanjirou shakes his head. “No, that’s fine.”

She looks even more worried by his response. Her brow furrows, her body tenses, and he wants more than anything to smooth the wrinkles from her forehead. 

“Thanks for the help,” he says instead.

“I didn’t do anything,” Kanao replies, carefully leading him down the path to the Butterfly Estate. 

“You did,” he corrects immediately. Tanjirou has seen Kanao fight, flitting around her enemy like a butterfly in the breeze. There is no way someone that strong can be anything other than amazing.

She doesn’t say anything. Her expression is similar to Giyu’s, in the way they both doubt their own abilities. “Seriously,” he presses, forcing them to a standstill. When she looks up at him, confused, he adds, “You’re amazing. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Kanao stares at him for a long moment, her eyes wide and fathomless. He cannot read her expression. He wonders if she thinks he’s lying.

“You’re really strong,” Tanjirou adds, just in case. “You’re cool and awesome and really fast and—”

“I get it,” she interrupts, her ears reddening. She smiles softly. “Thanks.”

“It’s nothing,” Tanjirou says. He doesn’t add, and you have a great smile and you should use it more.

ii.

Hand in hand, Tanjirou and Nezuko stand in front of the Butterfly Estate, in front of the place they’ve called home for the past few months. For the first time in almost a year, both siblings stand under the sun, neither of them suffering from blood lust or a demonic urge.

“So, this is it,” Nezuko says softly, her rough hand gripping his tight.

They are from a poor family. There never was an option for Nezuko to be anything more than a working girl, but Tanjirou still feels a pang of guilt that his sister will never have hands as soft as a lady’s. Still, those hands saved him more times than he can count, and he squeezes back appreciatively. “It is.”

The front door opens and Kanao steps out. There’s a small basket in her hands and Nezuko lets go to take it. When his sister peeks inside inquisitively, Kanao explains, “We thought you might get hungry during the trip.”

His heart swells. No doubt Aoi took the lead, forcing everyone to stay on task and schedule. Tanjirou is glad that finally it’s all over, that it isn’t impossible for him to return home, but he cannot deny he’ll miss living on the estate. In many ways, the girls here replaced the siblings he lost. He smiles. “Thanks.”

“It’s nothing,” Kanao mumbles. 

Nezuko shoots him a knowing look before wrapping her arms firmly around the basket. “I’ll go ahead.”

“Huh?” Tanjirou steps forward. Even with one arm, he is still strong from his days chopping wood, carrying coal, swinging swords. “I can take—”

“It’s fine!” Nezuko insists, glaring at him as she turns around and all but runs down the path to where Inosuke and Zenitsu are waiting. He doesn’t know what to make of that. 

This leaves just him and Kanao. The two of them stand there in a comfortable silence. It has always been that way with her; no matter what they’re doing, it’s comfortable. Unfortunately, they can’t just stand there forever, and he straightens. “Thanks for everything.”

“It’s…” Kanao wets her lip, her clasped fingers fidgeting nervously. “It’s nothing. Just…”

This is rare. She’s never asked for anything before and he leans forward, eager to please. “Just?”

“We’ll…see each other again?” There’s a desperate note in her voice, her good eye meeting his.

He doesn’t think before he nods. Later, he’ll recognize her expression as loneliness, as the same one he wore when Nezuko first turned. Now, his gut knows what his mind has yet to understand, and Tanjirou grabs her hand and squeezes. “Definitely. I’ll come and visit. This isn’t goodbye, just see you later.”

Her smile is as soft as a butterfly’s brush as she squeezes back.

iii.

Visiting Kanao by train eats up nearly all of their savings. Tanjirou is used to poverty, used to walking until his feet are sore and sleeping on the most threadbare of blankets. Living as a demon slayer had been luxurious compared to his usual fare. Coming back home only reminds him of the reality of his situation. 

There was no one to take care of his house, so it fell apart. There was no one to care for his garden, so it ran wild. Fortunately, there is Inosuke and Zenitsu and between the three of them, Tanjirou’s old house is in shape in no time. Nezuko scavenges whatever supplies they have left, putting together blankets and clothes and turning rusted pots into multipurpose cooking utensils. 

It all comes back to two of them very easily: the art of how to make something out of nothing. They scrape and they save and Tanjirou earmarks money for repairs and other must-haves.

Nezuko forces him to take a cut for a trip by train. It will take weeks to get to Kanao otherwise, she points out (rightly). He is blind in an eye, with an arm he can’t use, and what if he gets attacked, she adds (somewhat rightly).

He has never been able to say no to his sister.

Tanjirou is used to walking until there are holes in his shoes. Travelling by train is a new experience. The last time he had been on one, he had been too tense to enjoy it. The last time he had been on one, it had tried to eat him.

This time, though, the train stays on the rails and in one piece. He doesn’t sleep, too engrossed in the way the countryside rushes past as they head further and further away from home. A whistle goes off. There’s the scent of coal in the air. He can hear the wheels clatter as they chug down the hot rail. 

Inosuke was right to treat it like an animal. Tanjirou feels like he is in the belly of a fast-moving beast. 

All too quickly, the train pulls to a stop. Tanjirou grabs his small bag before jumping off, searching the crowded platform for a familiar face. He smells her before he sees her, a familiar rose-water scent that he thinks he’ll recognize no matter where they are. 

“Kanao!” He spins on his heel, turning his head as he tries to check his blind spot. 

There’s a butterfly clip amongst the sea of people. Kanao turns, her eyes widening as she spots him. “You’re here,” she breathes.

“I am.” He smiles. It’s almost automatic now, when he sees her. There’s something about her that leaves him feeling warm and bubbly. 

Her eyes crinkle. “Welcome back.” 

iv.

Tanjirou can’t say exactly when the estate starts to feel like a second home, when Kanao starts to spend as many nights in his shack in the woods as he spent days in the butterfly-pea scented home of hers. It is probably the same time she begins to call him by his name, or when he finds himself holding her hand as they wait at the train station.

What he can say, though, is that he’s glad that no one else is in right now. He’s standing in the courtyard with Kanao, stepping through his father’s dance, and while it isn’t a secret, he doesn’t want anyone prying either. Lately, Nezuko and Aoi have gotten all kinds of annoying when Tanjirou and Kanao are alone, and he’s glad that for once they are free of that.

He’s also found Kanao smiles more when they’re alone together, and while he doesn’t understand why, he’ll do whatever he can to make that happen. And often that means embarrassing himself in a way he doesn’t want the others to tease him about. 

Today, though, he is merely walking through his father’s dance. His left arm tingles a little when he tries to move it, like it’s remembering an old pain. There’s still no sensation from it. 

“That’s beautiful,” Kanao says, clapping as he finishes. 

She’s in his blind spot and by the time he turns to face her, she’s already clasped her hands on her lap, her expression a soft neutral once more. It’s frustrating. His good arm is on his bad eye’s side, and he finds he misses things more often than he catches them. 

He can only imagine what Kanao’s vision is like. Despite her assurances, he’s certain she’s completely blind in one eye, and almost there in the other. It’s not entirely his fault, but it’s also not not his fault. Tanjirou might not be able to make up for it, but he can compensate in the only way he knows how: making her smile. 

“You want to do it?” he asks, taking her hand in his and pulling her up before she can reply.

“W-what?” She stiffens but doesn’t pull away, her cheeks reddening. It’s probably embarrassment. He wants to reassure her.

“I’ll show you how to do it.” Gently, he leads her to the center of the courtyard. With the way she fights, he is certain Kanao’s a graceful dancer. Dancing always makes him smile and it can’t do less for her. 

“I... I’m not…” Kanao glances at him before quietly asking, “Show me.”

“Of course.” He grins as he takes her hands in his and sets her in the first position. “One.” Tanjirou lifts her right arm and gently taps her left leg so she shifts her weight onto it. “Two.”

One by one, he molds her body into the moves, his fire dance turning more into an ember dance. The flames are still there, but just barely, a warmth that could be used to help rather than burn. 

“That’s right,” Tanjirou encourages as she shifts into the final position. 

“Tha—” Kanao squeaks as she stumbles over a pebble.

“Kanao!” He doesn’t hesitate before grabbing her hand, yanking her into his arms. The momentum throws him off balance and he leans back, trying to keep them from falling. Tanjirou doesn’t let go. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” she murmurs, her head buried in his chest. Her long hair brushes his bare arms as she looks up. 

She’s close. Too close. He can feel her breath on his face, count the shades of purple in her eyes, see every lash when she blinks. Her skin is red again, a blush that climbs down her neck until it swallows her whole.

And just like that, he understands exactly how he feels when he’s with her. How he’s been feeling for a long time, really. 

“I’m going to kiss you,” he whispers. 

Her skin turns a brighter shade of red but she only smiles in response. 

v.

Even in his twenties, Tanjirou is poor. He thinks he will always be poor, that this fate has been carved into his body in the same way that Nezuko’s scratches are still on his arm or that his sister has never fully healed from the scars he left her. 

Yet, he is happy. He has never needed much in life, just a bed to sleep in, food to eat, and good company. He has that in spades with Zenitsu, Nezuko, and Inosuke. 

And he’ll never be alone as long as Kanao holds his hand. It’s probably his imagination, but even when she holds his bad hand, he can feel it. His mother once told him love could heal any wound. That was true with him and Nezuko, and that is definitely true between him and Kanao. 

Still, Tanjirou is in a better place than he was even five years ago. The Butterfly Estate is provided for. He and Kanao have found ways to use their skills in a more modern Japan, in one that doesn’t need demons nor demon slayers.

And little by little, they save, until they can afford treats like going to a local festival. Kanao’s hand is in his, like they’ve done a hundred times before, but it feels different now. More special, somehow, as though realizing his feelings has turned the ordinary into the extraordinary. 

Kanao hums softly as they follow the path to the village. She does that sometimes, when they’re alone. It’s like he’s uncovering a new thing about her every day. How can anyone have so many mysteries? And how can he want more—Tanjirou never tires of learning of yet another new side of his love.

The sweet smell of magnolia’s fills the air. As they pass by a tree, its pink flowers slowly blooming in the night air, he plucks one and tucks it in her hair. Immediately, she reddens, looking up at him quizzically.

“It looks good on you,” he explains. 

She flushes as she smiles.

vi.

The only number better than two is three. Tanjirou presses his ear against Kanao’s slowly swelling belly. There’s a small thump. “I think I hear her kick,” he whispers, awestruck. 

“It’s too early,” Kanao replies, threading her hand through his hair. 

He can’t see her expression like this, but he doesn’t want to move either. Tanjirou listens again. Outside the room, he can hear Inosuke and Aoi arguing. Outside the room, he can hear a raven caw. He ignores it all, focusing instead on the small life beneath his ear. “I’m pretty sure she’s kicking.”

“She might not be a girl,” Kanao reminds, twirling a lock around her finger. 

“She will be.” Tanjirou lifts his head slightly, just enough that he can watch her expression. “She told me so.”

Kanao smiles, like a flower opening. These days, she smiles every day, over everything. “She didn’t.”

“She did,” he replies, lowering his head once more. “Should I tell you what else she said?”

Tanjirou hopes their daughter has her mother’s smile.

[linzerj]

I was tagged by @fire-fira to share a snippet of a WIP! I made a post a WHILE ago about a "what if Teba was the pilot to Divine Beast Vah Medoh during TOTK" AU, and I have been very slowly working on it the past few months (other fandoms and other irl stuff has me distracted, plus the plot keeps running away from me lol), but here's a snippet I really like! (which is probably too long to be considered a snippet, but oh well I like it a lot lol)

--------

Teba looks up at Vah Medoh, still perched on the top of Totori Spire in the center of Rito Village, and wonders what exactly he thinks is going to happen if this somehow works. It didn’t work for any of the others, and there’s no reason for it to work for him, but…

He’ll never know unless he tries, he supposes, and so with a deep, steeling breath, he takes off and makes his way up to Medoh.

The way the Beast is perched makes finding a suitable landing spot a tad awkward – her back, where the control unit is, is at an almost 180 degree slant. Teba could try hovering near it, he supposes, but he’s not sure if he would be able to that while also attempting to activate the terminal.

But he needn’t have worried, for as he circles her back, looking for a place to land, Vah Medoh starts up with a whir of engines. Slowly, she shifts, until her back is flat enough for Teba to land on. He’s glad he told Saki and Harth of his plan; hopefully they’ll reassure the rest of the Village, should any of them begin to panic at Vah Medoh beginning to move about again.

Touching down on the Vah Medoh of this era is odd, and yet familiar. She is covered in moss and rust, and there are the obvious scars of battles taking place upon her – the battle that this era’s Revali failed to survive, and the battle that Link only just managed to win barely a few months ago.

It is strange, to be here without Revali, Teba thinks. There is a quiet, a stillness, to Medoh here that wasn’t there in the time-that-wasn’t. Ever since she fired that devastating beam at Ganon during Link’s final fight, just two months before Teba found himself whisked away to another era, Medoh has been silent and still, no longer glowing the bright blue Teba became accustomed to seeing during his time with Revali and the others – but thankfully not glowing that awful Malice-pink, either.

But now, upon his landing, the blue lights reignite, soft and barely noticeable in the bright daylight. The control terminal lights up as well, seeming to call to Teba.

He’s seen Revali do this plenty of times – reach out to the terminal, and swiftly input commands to control the Divine Beast. But there’s more to it than just that, Teba knows; some sort of connection, soul-deep, between Beast and Champion, that allows any of this to work at all.

(“Bonding with Vah Medoh… well, it was certainly quite the experience. She has to approve of you, want to bond with you, as much as you want to with her. It’s not about control – it’s about communication. She’ll probably make you fight for it, want you to prove yourself, like I had to… but it’s worth it, I think.”)

He hesitantly begins to reach out to the control terminal, and pauses just before his wing can touch it. The stillness has turned into an air of anticipation around him – almost as if Vah Medoh herself is wondering what will happen if Teba lets his wing fall upon her and try to initiate that connection.

The others had mentioned the spirits of the Champions appearing to them on the Divine Beasts. There has been no sign of Revali thus far. Is Revali, too, waiting to see what will happen before he makes his grand appearance?

After another moment of hesitation, Teba reaches out and lays his wing upon Medoh’s cool surface.

The barrage of emotion and half-formed thoughts hits him like a Talus, and it’s all Teba can do to not buckle under the sudden and unexpected mental onslaught. (Was this what Revali meant when he said that Medoh made him fight for it, prove himself? He’d figured it would be tests of skill, not a test of his mental and emotional willpower.)

Even as Teba stands there, cowed under the weight of feelings not his own, Vah Medoh lets out a cry – one that sounds distinctly triumphant, one that feels triumphant – and the mechanisms that allow her to fly begin to whir with energy as she takes to the skies.

But Teba is barely aware of it. His head is full, too full, with this larger-than-life presence, and for a moment he fears he will break under it –

He clacks his beak defiantly. He has worked with Medoh before, in that other version of Hyrule, even if he did not bond with her as a pilot like Revali.  But he remembers that faint itch in the back of his brain, the feeling of being watched, every time Revali taught him how to input a command at Medoh’s control terminal – Medoh herself, judging him even when she was bonded firmly to Revali.

He is not a spectacle like Revali was – Revali was still so young, after all, and believed he had something to prove – but the one thing Teba shares with him is a stubborn streak a mile long.

Teba pushes back at the heavy weight of Vah Medoh in his mind, shoving his determination to do this towards her as best he can. He is the most skilled Rito archer, at least in present day – he is no Revali, he still hasn’t quite mastered Revali’s Gale (although he is improving, refusing to give up on trying to learn the skill), and Teba certainly doesn’t flaunt his skill and talent the way Revali did, but there is no denying that he has it. He’s worked with Vah Medoh before – not this version, sure, but he still knows her, how her systems operate and how she behaves, how she has her own personality –

He’s missed Medoh, in the same way he misses Revali. She doesn’t know him – cannot, because of this strange split in the timeline that has happened because of their interference in the past – but he knows her, and he doesn’t want to have to part from her again.

He thinks of saving Revali from Windblight Ganon – thinks of how he should have been there with Link to face the Blight that had plagued this version Medoh for a hundred years. Instead, he’d had to retreat because of his injured leg – Teba may push himself hard, but he knows not to go that far past his limits. But he holds no ill will towards Medoh for shooting him – from what he understands, she’d had little control over her own systems when infected by Ganon, and he can’t fault her for that.

Slowly, the weight in his mind becomes bearable. He can parse out feelings from the jumbled mess of Medoh’s presence – loneliness, wanting, stubbornness, curiosity, longing –

Something clicks into place. Teba lets out a ragged breath, and slowly becomes aware of his body again. The wing he’d laid upon Medoh’s control terminal is now gripping it tightly, supporting him during that mental onslaught. He breathes again – more of a sigh, really – and relaxes his wing.

Vah Medoh lights up in a brilliant blue, and the terminal in front of him comes alive. She sings victoriously, the piercing sound carrying through the snow-covered mountains of Hebra, and Teba can’t help but let out a laugh as he guides her back towards Rito Village.

“Hello again, Medoh,” he sighs. “I know you don’t know me, but I’ve missed you.”

Medoh rumbles beneath him, and there is a shared feeling of content that lingers in the back of his mind. This is right. He’d barely known Medoh, really, but her presence soothes an ache that hasn’t left since returning from the time-that-wasn’t.

There’s silence as Medoh flies, circling back over Rito Village, but this silence is peaceful, easy, rather than unsettling and off as it was before. He wonders what the others in the village must think – he should probably go down and reassure everyone that everything is fine, and explain what he’s managed to accomplish.

His thoughts are interrupted by a voice he thought he’d never hear again.

“Well, well… I’m impressed. Not many can tame Vah Medoh, you know.”

Teba tries not to let his feathers fluff up in surprise, for even as he whirls around he knows it won’t be the same –

It’s like seeing a ghost, but, well, he literally is, in this timeline, here and now. The Revali that has appeared before him is faintly see-through, and has a green-blue tint to what should be iridescent navy feathers. The little ghost-fires that flicker around his frame only confirm what Teba already knows – this isn’t his Revali, the Revali of the time-that-wasn’t. This Revali fought alone one hundred years ago, and this Revali died because of it.

Still – still. “Re- Master Revali,” Teba says, and he hopes his voice doesn’t break the way his heart has.

-------

challenging any of my mutuals and followers who want to to share snippets of their WIPs too! I'm trying to think of who I can actually tag - maybe @sinvulkt and @trickstress333, if you want? :)

[thecompassneverlies]

In vino veritas part 1/?

It’s a rare thing that a bar fight starts before Jack arrives in a pub but it does happen so he’s only a little surprised when he enters the tavern and a dozen men are brawling. It’s nothing compared to the shock of seeing a man he recognises-at least a little, the classically handsome face is covered with dirt and sweat and a growth of beard, hair lanky and greasy instead of under a pristine wig and his sailors physique is heightened by the rags he wears instead of his immaculate uniform but Jack knows it’s Norrington. He remembers that body. He only had it once, but its seared into his memory and so without thinking he enters the fray.

Despite his downturn of fortunes, James is a skilled fighter, better trained and honed then any of these men he fights but he’s also drunk, and they are many more of them then there is of a lone commodore. It is only a matter of time -and if any of them cottoned on to who he really was-well a beating would be the last of James’ worries. Commodore Norrington had made a great many enemies.

He grabs James by the scuff of the neck just as he’s about to have his face punched in and yanks him backwards, the commodore almost literally kicking and screaming-kicking certainly and cussing up a storm. He hadn’t realised James knew such words.

“Let me go!” James snarls when Jack has found a quiet alleyway far enough that James cannot get into any trouble. He does and James stumbles, the alcohol and the several blows he has taken finally catching up. He barely catches himself on the wall.

“Most folk would say thanks for helpin’ them ‘scape a beating” Jack says neutrally.

“I don’t need your help!” James seethes. “I want to be left alone!”

“Aye and what a state you’ve gotten into *alone*” Jack stresses the word sarcastically.

“I’m fine! I don’t need you or your “help”

“You woulda died in there,” Jack feels compelled to say. “They wouldn’t a stopped if they knew who ye were”

“I don’t care!” James says and that hits Jack like a canonball to the gut because he can see in James’ face that he means it. Every word.

“Don’t be fool in’ yerself boy!” Jack says.

James hefts the ruins of his jacket over his shoulders. There’s a deep tear in the material.

“Let me be, Jack!”

“You’ll be dead inside a month at this rate!” Jack snarls.

“Then everyone will be better off!” James counters and staggers back into the shadows.

Jack watches him, calculates. If he leaves now there’s a chance he’ll never see Norrington alive again. If the man is determined to drink himself to death or to get in a brawl he can’t walk away with he’ll surely find a bar willing to give him both.

And Jack can’t stomach it.

He’s not even quiet as he follows Norrington before wrapping his arm around his throat and choking him into unconsciousness. He shouldn’t have been able to do it, the old James would’ve seen it coming a mile away. He shakes his head, looks around for some sort of transport so that he can save Norrington from himself.

One night of passion has done this to him, made him feel guilty at being the tool that had brought Norrington disgrace and ruined his life. One night had turned him from an enemy to a lover and now.. he stares into James’ face. Whatever the hell they were now.

[insertsaddict]

Had an idea that I don’t think I’ll make into a full fic, so...here! Your Boyfriend Hunger Games AU! Based on what I remember of the books I read years ago...

(Game is 18+, so if you are a minor, please do not read after the cut!)

(Mentions of death, gore, and suicide—if these make you uncomfortable, please please don’t read this!)

You’ve grown up in one of the less well-off districts. You’re a bit distanced from your family, doing your best to support yourself. You’re good friends with TK, your neighbor and co-worker, and both of you express worry over the upcoming games.

Neither of you like the Games. And obviously, neither one of you wants to be chosen. The thought of it makes you shake, but TK does their best to reassure you each time. The odds of either of you getting chosen have to be low, right? Even if you put your name in a few extra times to get rations, surely it hasn’t been that many, has it?

...but of course, on the Reaping, whose name is pulled first but yours?

It’s a crushing blow to you. You’re not a fighter or a killer. This is a death sentence for you. When you take your place on the stage, you just feel numb.

You see TK’s distraught expression. But you don’t see another face in the crowd, someone just as stunned and horrified as you feel, too late to act to take your place.

They move back to the jar (everyone’s name is in one jar, they just pick two people of any gender to send or something), to draw the second name. Your fate is sealed.

Suddenly, someone else in the crowd volunteers. Murmurs travel throughout as they weave their way through, standing on the stage next to you. They can’t take your place (too late for that), but they’ve taken the second spot.

You look up to see grey skin, a blue shirt, and black hoodie, and blue eyes looking into yours with a range of emotions. Sadness, guilt...determination. They’re not familiar to you, but you know who’s standing in front of you.

Most people know of Peter, even you. You’ve seen him around town a bit, but all you know is that he grew up in a Career district, but moved into your district a few years back. You’ve heard rumors that he mostly moved to get away from his family.

No one besides him knows the full reason he moved, of course. And of course, he knows you very well.

Many don’t bat an eye at his sudden volunteering—he grew up in a Career district, after all. But you feel like maybe...there’s something more than that behind his actions.

Especially when he keeps gazing at you intensely.

You say tearful goodbyes to TK and your family. No one is there to visit Peter, but he doesn’t seem at all bothered by it. Eventually, the two of you are ushered onto the train to the Capitol...and you’re left alone.

You try to strike up a conversation with Peter. He flinches when you say his name, looking for a second like he swallowed a lemon.

“I don’t like my name,” he’ll admit. “I’d honestly prefer if you called me by a nickname or something.”

You come up with something on the spot—YB. From then on, that nickname is how he’ll introduce himself to everyone. And if anyone calls him “Peter”, he quickly corrects them.

You’re both introduced to Don, a gruff past Victor. He looks you over and mostly gives advice on how to avoid trouble, and how to outlive everyone else through sheer survival skills.

He looks over YB...and simply regards him coolly. The two of them stare at each other, long enough that you start to feel a little uncomfortable.

Later, Don will warn you that he gets a bad vibe from YB. Whether you trust his word or not is up to you, put...YB is very kind to you. Nervous, but kind, and willing to teach you some skills for survival.

Eventually, the two of you are in the arena. You grab what supplies you can and run from the action, not knowing that someone else is following your every move, always staying just far enough away that you don’t notice them.

Night falls, and as far as you can tell, you’re far away from anyone else. Safe for now, except...you swear you keep feeling someone watching you. You scan the forest over and over, but as far as you can see, no one’s there. 

But you still feel eyes on you. Watching, unblinking...

YB knows you so well that he can avoid your gaze just before you look in his direction. Even when you’re being so clever, even checking the branches above you! He admires that.

But there comes a point where you can’t keep your eyes open, when you end up passing out from exhaustion with your back against the tree trunk. YB slowly creeps forward, and many viewers wait with bated breath, watching as they’re sure he’s about to strike...!

And he simply leans against the tree beside you, keeping one hand on the hilt of his knife. He switches constantly between scanning the forest suspiciously and watching you adoringly.

No one watching is quite sure what to make of it. The Gamemakers linger on the two of you for quite some time, not sure whether something is going to happen or not. The bad vibe Don got from YB comes back with full force, but all he can do is grit his teeth and wish he had some way to tell you about the danger lurking beside you. No donations have come in yet.

This process repeats for the next few days and nights. You do your best to survive, avoid everyone else, and wait up each night before exhaustion takes over. All while unaware of your living shadow.

People have started to theorize about what YB is up to. Is he just there to mooch off your supplies? Is he unhinged and waiting for the perfect moment to strike? Is he looking for an alliance, but too nervous to fully approach you?

And then someone tries to attack you in your sleep.

YB had hidden in the shadows when he heard their footsteps approaching. You barely even stirred in your slumber. They found you in your makeshift camp, glanced between you and your supplies...and slowly raised a bow, aiming to quietly take you out.

They don’t even manage to grab an arrow before a knife is driven into their back.

Viewers are stunned, horrified...amazed at what follows. It’s one of the bloodiest kills in the Game yet, stab after stab, yet so silent that you don’t even wake up. All anyone can do is watched as words and symbols are carved into the cadaver.

When you wake up in the morning, your eyes land on a corpse...and the message carved into their chest.

You’re safe with me, Darling. It’s surrounded by hearts. Like a love letter.

Naturally, you scream and flee from the area.

You spend the next few days trying to flee from whoever left you that message, but you can still feel eyes on you. YB’s never far behind. At some point or another, you might actually spot him and talk to him...

Do you realize he’s the person you’re afraid of? Do you team up with him, or run faster, trying to get away?

There are honestly quite a few ways this could end. Most of them tragically.

If you’re killed at any point during the Games, YB will immediately go on a rampage of revenge. He’ll keep your corpse on him at all times, refusing to surrender it and fighting off anyone who tries to take you away from him. Even the drones the Gamemakers send don’t stand a chance against his fury.

Once he’s the only one left, he won’t allow himself to be crowned the victor. But he’s not going to allow the two of you to be separated, like they’ll surely do once they come to recover his body. 

Jumping off the cliff, into a raging river is deemed poetic and a worthy way of joining you, in his eyes...

On the other hand, if it’s just the two of you left...he won’t ever bring himself to harm you. Not for something as petty and unimportant as being Victor.

If you decide to strike at him, he won’t fight back. If you can’t bring yourself to kill him, he’ll take nightlock berries and go peacefully to let you be the winner. Either way, he’ll confess his love to you before dying.

There is a chance you can convince him to take part in the same trick Peeta and Katniss pulled off during their games, where they both threatened to swallow nightlock. Whether it’s an act of rebellion or love on your part, or a lie or trick to get YB to off himself, he’ll agree at once.

And just like in the books, the two of you will quickly be stopped and both declared the Victors before you can actually pull it off.

[chelseachilly]

king of my heart - pt 12

hold on to the memories they will hold on to you and i will hold on to you

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: it’s euro time baby!!! warnings: some smut at the end :)  word count: 4k

a/n: hi!! this chapter was so fun to write, maybe my favourite so far?? i hope you guys like it, please let me know what you think! there’s only one more left after this <3

-

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benchilwell

liked by masonmount, jackgrealish and others

benchilwell Back at it! Feeling fit and thrilled to be back in time for the end of the season 💙

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yourusername Looking fit, that’s for sure 😍😍😍

benchilwell Hahah thanks gorgeous 😏

chillyfan1 living for them flirting on insta

-

After a long and arduous journey, the day finally comes that Ben is able to step foot on the pitch at Stamford Bridge again.

It feels like a lifetime since you’ve seen him play, and you couldn’t be more excited. You’re seated in a box with Kai’s girlfriend Sophia, anxiously awaiting kickoff.

You know how hard Ben has trained for this moment and that he’s been cleared by a team of doctors and physios who are at the top of their field, but you can’t help but feel incredibly nervous as you see him emerge from the tunnel with the rest of the team.

“Hey, he’ll be fine,” Sophia says reassuringly, patting your arm. “I know it’s nerve-wracking the first time back, but he’s ready for this.”

You nod, forcing a smile despite the anxiety still lodged in your chest, which you suspect won’t go away until the final whistle is blown.

It’s a tough match against Arsenal today, and only the second last of the season. You know how crucial today’s game is for securing their spot in the top 4, and as a Chelsea fan, you’re incredibly nervous about the outcome.

It’s 1-1 at halftime, and continues to be until late in the second half.

Your fists are clenched tightly as you see the Arsenal striker on the breakaway, sprinting toward the goal. A few of the Chelsea players are trying to catch up to him, but Ben is the fastest, making a successful challenge and passing the ball back to a teammate as the crowd roars.

Your panic begins to dwindle as the game finishes up and Ben continues to play with the level of skill and talent that he possessed before his injury. He’s back - really, truly, finally back to playing the game he loves.

yourusername via stories

-

The week that the England squad is set to be announced for the Euros, you can tell how nervous Ben is.

He’s proven himself to have made a spectacular recovery in the last two Premier League games of the season, but it remains to be seen whether that was soon enough for him to have caught Gareth Southgate’s attention.

You’re incredibly anxious, too, as you wait for any news. This is what he’s been working toward his whole career, his whole life. To play for England on that scale, to finally get the chance to show the world what he is capable of, is everything he’s ever wanted. It’s the reason he’s fought so hard this year, through all the pain and setbacks.

As a result, you’ve both found a fun, helpful way to distract yourselves - having sex in every corner of your house, as often as possible. It began with you “christening” the home after you first officially moved in, which you knew didn’t make a lot of sense as Ben’s lived there the whole time you’ve been dating and you’ve already pretty much had sex in every room.

Then, it became a useful tool when Ben was getting particularly anxious about the call-up, which was becoming more and more often as the day drew closer. You’re also enjoying his return to full fitness for numerous reasons, including the fact that he’s now able to carry you upstairs and have his way with you like he used to, displaying a level of athleticism you had sorely missed.

This particular morning, you were having a lazy cuddle on the sofa watching Sky Sports, which inevitably led to the pundits discussing the possible England lineup and Ben pulling you into his lap to take his mind off it.

You’ve helped each other strip most of your clothes off - you in only your knickers and the t-shirt of Ben’s that you slept in, him in only his boxers - when his phone starts to ring.

“Shit, I’d better-“

“Yes, get it!” you exclaim, tearing yourself off him.

Ben would never normally take a call while you’re in the middle of such activities, but it’s a different scenario when he’s waiting to hear from the manager of the national team.

He scrambles around frantically looking for his phone, eventually finding it between the couch cushions.

“It’s Southgate,” Ben exhales as he looks at the Caller ID, and your eyes go wide.

“Answer it!”

Ben nods and gulps quickly before taking the call.

“Hello?”

Your heart is racing with anticipation and you briefly wish you had asked him to put it on speaker as Ben paces back and forth across the room, saying nothing except the odd “yes, sir,” giving you absolutely nothing to go off.

After a minute or two, Ben ends the call with a “thank you, I won’t let you down,” and your breath hitches. The moment he hangs up, he turns back to look at you with a slightly dazed expression.

“Did you-“ you begin to ask, and he just nods as a massive smile takes over his face.

“I got the call up,” Ben confirms, nodding his head. “I’m in the squad!”

You squeal with delight as you run across the room to him, throwing your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. He catches you and holds you just as close, burying his face in your neck.

“You did it, baby,” you sigh with relief, your fingers digging in slightly to his bare shoulders. “Your hard work paid off. I’m so proud of you.”

He pulls back just enough to crash his lips down on yours in one of the most passionate kisses you’ve ever shared, his soft lips parting to slide his tongue into your mouth.

“Good thing we’re already dressed to celebrate,” you murmur teasingly, tightening your legs around him so you press against his hardened cock, making him moan against your mouth.

Within seconds, he has you laid out on the couch, climbing over you and smothering you with kisses as his hands work to remove the remaining clothing you have on.

-

The time leading up to the Euros seems to drag on forever.

You’re so incredibly happy and proud that Ben made the squad, and you wouldn’t have it any other way, but you underestimated how much you would miss him while he’s away at the training camp.

You’d gotten used to him being home all the time while he was injured, so you can’t help but suffer from a bit of separation anxiety while he’s gone, and you find yourself texting and calling him more often than you’re proud to admit.

It gets to the point that when Ben picks up the phone, you hear a chorus of “hi, Y/N!” on the other line before he’s even greeted you. It’s one thing being teased by Mason or James or even Jack, who you consider close friends, but you do feel a bit embarrassed to think of national heroes like Harry Kane or Marcus Rashford knowing you as Ben’s needy girlfriend.

Mostly, though, you’re just so excited to finally get to see Ben play at such a massive level, achieving his childhood dreams.

You obviously can’t miss an entire month of work to relocate to Germany, but you make travel plans and take vacation days to ensure that you see as many as possible. Every time you show up to a game and get to see Ben play his heart out for England, it’s all worth it.

As the weeks go on, England continues to succeed and Ben gets more and more playing time. He’s obviously proven himself as a force to be reckoned with, having come back even stronger from his injury, and it makes your heart swell with pride each time you see him come on - whether you’re watching on TV or in person.

When England makes it to the semi-final against Italy, there’s not a chance in hell that you’re missing it. You make the necessary arrangements at work and book flights for you and Charlotte before letting Ben know that you’ll be there.

You only get to see him for a few minutes when you fly in the morning or the match, as he’s deep in training mode for what may very well be one of the most important games of his career.

“You’re going to be amazing,” you tell him earnestly, cupping his face. “Whether the gaffer subs you on in the 89th minute or you’re on the starting lineup - which you should be - I am so proud of you.”

“Thanks, baby, you have no idea how much it means to have you here,” Ben says quietly, squeezing your waist. “I’ll see you after the game.”

He leaves you in his hotel room as he returns to the training pitch for warmups. You know his hopes aren’t high for much playing time in such an important game, but you’re still optimistic. He’s been just as good or better than the other left-back on the team, and he’s already got two assists and some impressive defensive plays to show for it.

Above all, you know he wants his team to win, however that is achieved. You just - a bit selfishly, maybe - want Ben to play a role in that win.

An hour before kick-off, you and Charlotte change into your Chilwell and Mount England NT shirts, respectively, and head down to the Alilianz Arena, home of Bayern Munich.

It’s definitely one of the most massive and electric sporting events you’ve ever been to, including some impressive games hosted at Wembley. The crowd is full of fans from all across Europe, and both English and Italian flags line the stands.

“Oh my god, did you look at the lineup?” Charlotte asks, glancing at her phone as you take your seats with some of the other girls.

You shake your head and she shoves her phone in your hand. Your eyes immediately scan down the list until you see “CHILWELL” in big bold font.

“Oh my god!” you practically shriek. “Ben’s starting!”

“That’s amazing, babe!” Sasha exclaims from beside you, grabbing your arm.

As kick-off approaches, you see the teams make their way out of the tunnel. Seeing Ben stand on the pitch as the national anthem plays, dressed in his England kit, fills you with unimaginable pride.

The next 90-odd minutes are some of the most intense and exhilarating of your life. You’re on the edge of your seat the entire time, jumping up when anything happens.

Kane scores first, followed by an immediate equalizer from Italy. At the end of the first half, the Italian side gets one more past Pickford, which appears to be offside but is ultimately ruled a goal.

At halftime, the mood in the English supporter section is somewhat grim, but you know they can turn this around. They need two goals to win this, and they have an incredibly strong team here.

You send Ben a quick text as Charlotte and Lauren run to grab you some cocktails to take the edge off.

You - 3:52PM Amazing start, babe. You got this second half 💪💕

When the game resumes, the team appears to have been reinvigorated during the break.

England starts strong, retaining possession well and creating some solid chances. You know it’s only a matter of time before they score and level the game.

Then, the most remarkable thing happens.

Ben is running toward the net with the ball, Italy’s defense lagging behind as they attempt to catch up with him. He’s running faster than you’ve ever seen him, obviously looking for an open teammate, and his eyes find Jack from across the pitch. He passes to him with incredible precision, despite the speed he was running at, but Jack doesn’t have a clear shot on goal.

In a split second decision, Jack passes the ball right back to Ben, who volleys it without a second thought.

There’s a brief moment of hesitation as you wait for confirmation of the goal, and then the crowd erupts with cheers.

You jump up in your seat, screaming at the top of your lungs along with thousands of other supporters. You’re pretty sure your boyfriend is the most beloved man in England at the moment, but the moment he realizes it’s a goal, he turns to where he knows you’re sitting and points right at you.

“And it appears Ben Chilwell is dedicating this goal, his first in a major international tournament and his first since returning from injury, to someone special in the England supporter section!” the commentator declares, making you blush as you feel so many eyes on you.

The game continues, and you’re unable to take your eyes off Ben as he continues to dominate on the pitch, their defense like an unbreakable barrier for the Italians.

In the final minutes, Saka scores with an assist from Declan, and the crowd goes wild once more. The final whistle blows, and you all jump up and cheer as England takes the win, advancing them to the final.

You feel like you’re buzzing off much more than the couple of drinks you’ve had as the stadium erupts with cheers and chants from the English fans, the players celebrating enthusiastically on the pitch.

You and the girls rush down to meet them in the changing room, and there’s already music blaring and champagne being sprayed everywhere as you enter. They have a week until the final, so they can let loose a bit tonight.

“Y/N!” Reece exclaims, the first person you see when you walk into the room. “We did it!”

“You did it!” you shout back over the noise, pulling him into a tight hug. “Have you seen-“

“He’s over there,” Reece says with a knowing smile, gesturing to the other side of the room, where Ben is posing for photos with Bukayo and Mason.

The moment Ben sees you, his already wide grin grows impossibly bigger. He drops his arms that were around his teammates and holds them open for you.

You don’t think about the many people watching you, or the fact that they’re all currently recording on their phones, or anything other than running into Ben’s arms and hugging him as tightly as possible.

When you reach him, he catches you and spins you around in the centre of the room, making you laugh into his neck as you squeeze him tight.

“That was incredible!” you say, your voice muffled by his skin as you leave a few kisses there. “That goal, Ben, I-you took my breath away. You’re amazing.”

Ben pulls back and cups your face in both hands, kissing you firmly. Your kiss him back just as fervently, trying to convey every emotion of the past two hours into one touch of your lips.

“Thank you,” are the first words out of Ben’s mouth when he pulls back, staring at you as if you had gone out there and scored all three goals yourself. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you, babe. Seriously.”

You meet his wide, slightly watery eyes, getting lost in them just like you do for hours on end when you lay in bed together, or for a brief moment each time you meet his gaze from across a crowded room.

There were so many times over the past year that you saw nothing but pain in those beautiful blue eyes of his, and all you wanted was to fast forward to this moment - this perfect, glorious moment - when he would be healed and back to achieving his biggest dreams.

Every time you woke up in the middle of the night to find him in pain, clutching his knee, making your heart shatter in a million pieces; every argument you had over what was best for him; every game that he had to watch from the sidelines.

Every setback, every gruelling physio session, every time he wanted to quit but didn’t.

It all led to this - him making a massive impact, securing his team’s place in the Euro final and giving them the chance to make history.

“Baby, why are you crying?” Ben asks softly, and you snap out of your train of thought to find him caressing your face and wiping away the tears that have started falling from your cheeks.

“I’m just so proud of you,” you choke out, smiling through your tears. “I knew you could do it.”

“Thank you for believing in me,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead, followed by a few more to your cheeks and lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you breathe, pulling him into another tight hug - partly because you want to feel his warmth all around you again, and partly so you can hide your tears in his shoulder. You’ve had enough of being totally emotionally vulnerable in front of thirty other people for one night.

-

A couple of hours later, you’re still partying with everyone at a club near your hotel, celebrating the win while also ensuring the boys drink enough water and don’t get too out of control. You know Southgate will be thanking you for that tomorrow when they show up to training with hopefully not too much of a hangover.

Ben is definitely feeling a buzz after just a few drinks, though, especially after having not really drank at all since they’ve been in Germany. He’s even touchier than usual, constantly keeping an arm around you or his hand in yours as you walk around chatting with his teammates and their girlfriends.

Eventually, you two end up in the corner of a booth squished between Jack Grealish and James Maddison, watching with amusement as Mason and Declan attempt Wonderwall on karaoke.

Everyone is laughing and documenting it, but Ben is fairly focused on you in his lap, his thumb stroking the exposed skin between your shirt - with his name on the back, which is definitely getting him going - and your jeans.

He’s pressing kisses to your neck every once in a while, sending shivers up your spine and making you wonder how obvious it would be if you two disappeared to the bathroom for a few minutes.

“Oi, look who went viral,” Madders chuckles, sliding his phone over to you and Ben.

You’re not sure who posted it first, but the video of you leaping into Ben’s arms in the changing room seems to have gained millions of views already.

“Oh, god,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “Our families are gonna see me making out with you.”

“Worth it,” Ben laughs, kissing your shoulder. “It’s a cute video, to be fair.”

You giggle as Ben begins to trail his kisses up your neck, not hesitating to show you affection even amongst all his teammates. You love seeing him in this great of a mood, riding on the high of his performance today, which earned him his first Player of the Match award for England.

“Have I told you how proud I am of you?” you murmur in his ear, pressing your lips to his temple.

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned it,” Ben jokes, squeezing your thigh - you’ve probably told him about ten times since you left the stadium, not to mention the thousands of times you’ve repeated the words to him throughout his recovery.

“Well, then,” you smirk, shifting your weight on his lap so that you run against his crotch just enough to drive him crazy. “Want me to show you?”

Ben’s eyes darken as they look into yours, seeing just how serious you are. It’s almost comical how quickly he shoves Madders out of the way so the two of you can escape the booth.

“Going to celebrate the win, Chilly?” Jack asks teasingly, slinging his arm around Sasha as he sips his beer.

“Yes, we are,” you say smugly, taking Ben’s hand in yours. “We’ll see you all at breakfast. Maybe.”

The guys all laugh at your unusually brazen comments, but Ben just tugs on your hand like an impatient child, clearly ready to go back to your room.

“Night, boys,” Ben says, already looking toward the door, and you laugh as you’re dragged along with him.

Within fifteen minutes, you’re making out in the elevator on the way up to your room, and within twenty, all of your clothes are off and you’re riding him on the king-sized bed as he moans into your mouth.

“So good,” Ben groans, his fingers digging into your hips as they roll over his. “Fuck, baby, you’re so amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” you sigh, pushing down on his shoulders for leverage as you try to thrust him deeper inside you. “You’re so good, Ben. So strong. You feel so good inside me.”

He grips your hips even tighter and thrusts upward into you, making you cry out in pleasure as he increases the speed and intensity.

You knew it would be good, but this is one of the best times you’ve ever had - and you and Ben have had some great ones. Every touch feels like an electric shock to your system, every kiss is like a drug, and every pump inside you makes you feel like you’re ascending to another plane of existence.

“I love you,” Ben groans, and you can feel him getting close as you approach your own climax.

“I love y-oh!”

You cry out in pleasure as you crumple over him in your release, your body relaxing against his.

Ben holds you close for a moment, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder as you ride out the orgasm, still joined together.

“You good, love?” he asks in a breathy whisper.

He waits for your nod of consent before moving you onto your sides carefully and thrusting into you a few more times. He moans into the crook of your neck as he comes, finally collapsing against the mattress.

You lay there, both breathing heavily, for a moment before meeting each other’s eyes. A wide smile spreads across Ben’s face as he looks at you, sheer adoration in his eyes despite the fact that you’re sure you look like a mess right now, your hair tangled and your makeup smudged.

“That was the best thing that happened to me today, and the bar was really fucking high,” Ben laughs, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you closer.

You laugh into his chest, nuzzling your nose against his warm and slightly sweaty skin, pressing a kiss there.

“I need a shower,” you mumble into his skin - after a few hours in a crowded football stadium, then in a locker room full of sweaty men, followed by a night club, you’re definitely in need of one.

“Me too,” Ben smiles, although he showered after the match. “Let’s go.”

Eager for more already, you don’t argue when he follows you into the shower.

Regardless of what happens in the final, he’s your champion, and you’re going to treat him as such.

-

yourusername 📍 Germany

yourusername So proud of you @benchilwell 🥹❤️🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 It’s been a dream come true watching you play for England after everything you’ve overcome in the past year. No matter what happens on Saturday, you’ve accomplished something incredible here. You inspire me every day with your strength and your determination. I love you ❤️❤️❤️ #itscominghome

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benchilwell Thanks baby ❤️ couldn’t have done any of this without you. I love you!!!

charlottewright Y’all are too adorable I can’t take it!!! 

kennedyalexa Fav couple 🥹

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tagging: @xjval @majx00 @delicateearthquakellama @lunamelona @kenanlotus0 @madriiid​ @mountstars​ @ttzamara​​

a/n: please excuse my terrible attempts at photoshop at the end there 😭

next (and last!) chapter 💕