#he so was two seconds away from ugly crying

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

if you wanna hurt think of a ominis fic where mc and sebastian sit him down and are like we want you to be godfather and if it's a girl we are naming it after your aunt if that's okay if it's a boy we are naming it after you.

smash cut to ugly crying

Namesake | Sebastian Sallow x OC

EEEEEK THIS WAS SO CUTE AND SOFT AND SWEET THANKS FOR THE IDEA ANON HOPE U LOVE IT

Words: ~2,000

Tags: Post Canon, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff, More Fluff

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

Ominis Gaunt was a patient man.

At least, that’s what he told himself. Years of childhood conditioning had instilled in him the art of controlled silence, of waiting, of enduring. He could sit through excruciatingly long pure-blood dinner parties with nothing more than a polite nod and a thin, restrained smile. He could withstand the tension of courtroom proceedings without shifting in his seat. He had mastered the ability to conceal even the deepest of emotions behind an impassive mask, a skill that had served him well.

And yet, for all of his so-called patience, he was failing miserably at it now.

He had no idea why Evangeline and Sebastian had summoned him here tonight—only that it was "important," a word that, in Sebastian’s hands, could mean anything from we’ve uncovered a conspiracy at the Ministry to Evangeline finally perfected her bread recipe, and you’re going to sit here and eat it.

But this time, something about the request had set his nerves on edge.

Because he couldn't even guess what it was about. He had already endured the biggest shock of the decade when they'd told him Evangeline was pregnant—though, in retrospect, perhaps “shock” wasn’t the right word for it.

Shock implied surprise. Shock implied that this revelation had been something he had never considered before. And yet, Ominis had always known, in some quiet, unspoken way, that Sebastian and Evangeline would build this life together. Tat they were the kind of people who would find joy in something as terrifying and miraculous as a child.

So no, he hadn't been shocked.

But he had been thoroughly, playfully outraged that he'd been the last to know.

Because Anne hadn’t seemed remotely surprised. In fact, she had reacted with a knowing smile and absolutely none of the wide-eyed astonishment Ominis had expected, which, upon further interrogation, had quickly made sense.

Because of course Evangeline had gone to Anne first. Anne was a Healer, after all. If anyone was going to confirm the news, it was her.

"You mean to tell me that I was the last to find out?" he had asked, indignant.

Evangeline had only smiled, reaching out to squeeze his arm, her warmth cutting through his dramatic sulking. “I promise it wasn’t personal.”

Anne had snickered. “It’s a little personal.”

The four of them had laughed, and Ominis, despite himself, couldn’t find it in him to continue feigning irritation—not when Evangeline had looked so utterly happy, her fingers resting over her stomach in quiet wonder, and not when Sebastian had been seconds away from tearing up like a sentimental fool.

In fact, Ominis had been thrilled. Excited. And just a little bit terrified.

Because this was Sebastian and Evangeline they were talking about. A baby born to those two was bound to be either the most brilliant or the most dangerous child in existence. Possibly both. Ominis had already resigned himself to years of damage control, and the baby hadn’t even been born yet.

It had been weeks since then, though, and now that Ominis was here in their sitting room, he had no idea what to expect. Sebastian and Evangeline weren’t exactly the sit-you-down-for-a-serious-talk type. They were blunt and affectionate, prone to teasing and honesty without preamble. So the fact that they had summoned him for something—and without Anne, who was conveniently working late at St. Mungo’s—was making his nerves prickle.

“Alright,” he said carefully. “I can tell you’re both trying not to make me panic, which only makes me panic. Just get on with it, whatever it is.”

Evangeline and Sebastian exchanged a glance, and that was when Ominis knew he was well and truly doomed.

It wasn’t that they were being particularly suspicious—at least, not outwardly. But Ominis had spent years attuned to their every shift, their every nuance. He knew Sebastian’s nervous ticks just as well as he knew Evangeline’s soft hesitations, the way she measured her words when something truly mattered.

And that was what set him on edge.

Because Evangeline was measuring her words now.

She exhaled, slow and steady, then reached for Ominis's hand, her fingers curling lightly around his wrist. Warm. Steady. Comforting.

It did nothing to calm him.

"Ominis," she began, voice gentle but intent. "You know how much you mean to us. You always have."

That was it. The moment his stomach dropped.

This was bad.

There was a “but” coming—there had to be.

Because no one ever started a sentence like that without following it up with something dreadful. His entire childhood had been filled with those phrases. You know how much we care for you, Ominis, but your disobedience cannot go unpunished. You know you are valued, but your behavior has left us with no choice.

He braced himself. He clenched his free hand into tight fist in his lap, the tips of his fingers pressing into the fine wool of his trousers. He was sure he looked impassive, but internally, his mind was spiraling into the depths of every possible worst-case scenario.

Sebastian, for once in his life, wasn’t jumping in with some remark to defuse the tension. That was another bad sign.

"You're our family," Evangeline continued, squeezing his wrist lightly, her voice so full of certainty that it nearly knocked the breath from his lungs. "And we trust you and Anne more than anyone."

Sebastian finally spoke then, a touch rougher than usual, as if he were trying to maintain his usual nonchalance but failing. “Which is why we... we want you to be our baby's godfather.”

Ominis froze.

The words should have made sense, but for some reason, his brain refused to process them.

"I—" He swallowed, utterly lost. "What?"

Evangeline let out a small breath of laughter, and Sebastian—Merlin damn him—sounded smug when he said, "You do know what a godfather is, don't you?"

Ominis turned his head toward Sebastian so fast it was a wonder he didn’t snap his own neck. He should have known—should have known—that even in a moment like this, Sebastian would find a way to be insufferable.

“I know what a godfather is,” Ominis bit out, his voice barely holding steady, “I just—” He exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face, trying to drag himself back to the present before his emotions completely derailed him

Sebastia, continued, as if he weren’t sending Ominis into the early stages of an emotional breakdown. "Well then, if... if you're willing, we truly can’t imagine anyone else."

Ominis’ lips parted, but no words came out. He felt like he was suffocating, but not in a bad way. More like… like he had been dropped into the middle of an ocean with no warning, waves closing over him before he could even breathe.

"And if it’s a girl," Evangeline said softly, hesitantly, "we were thinking of naming her Noctua. After your aunt."

It took all of Ominis’ control not to flinch.

Noctua. Noctua.

His aunt, the only person in his family who had ever shown him kindness, who had tried to help him, who had died trying to show him their family could be more. The only Gaunt he had ever loved.

His throat closed up.

"Only if you're okay with it," Evangeline added quickly, as if sensing the way his world had just tilted off its axis. "We don’t want to bring up painful memories, but—"

"I—" Ominis' voice cracked, and he had to take a moment to steady himself. His entire chest ached with something raw and terrible and beautiful. "I don't— I mean, I—"

And then Evangeline kept going, not knowing she was about to destroy him entirely.

"And if it’s a boy," she murmured, softer now, "we’d like to name him after you."

Silence.

It stretched thick and unrelenting, pressing against Ominis's ribs, filling his lungs with something he didn’t have the words for.

The first breath he took came out in a broken, stuttering gasp, and before he could even try to stop it, his face was in his hands, and—oh, Merlin, he was crying.

Not the kind of restrained, dignified tears he had occasionally let slip in private moments of grief.

No. This was ugly crying.

It was full-body, unrestrained sobbing, the kind that stole his breath, that made his shoulders shake and his chest hurt.

Somewhere through the haze of overwhelming emotion, he felt Evangeline shift, felt her arms wrap around him in a way that was warm and secure and safe. She murmured something soft, something meant to soothe, but the words were lost beneath the sharp, impossible ache of it all.

Sebastian, the bastard, let out a wet laugh. “Merlin, mate, we thought you’d be happy about it.”

Ominis tried—tried—to say something in response, but all that came out was another strangled, half-choked sound that barely resembled human speech. Which was fantastic. He was making an absolute spectacle of himself, and neither of them had the decency to pretend he wasn’t.

Sebastian squeezed his shoulder, his touch grounding but careful—a rarity for him—while Ominis buried his face further into his hands, laughing helplessly between broken sobs, and shook his head.

"I—I am happy, you idiot," he managed to choke out.

Sebastian let out another breath of laughter, this one softer.

"Good," Sebastian said again, his voice quieter now, like he was trying to play it off as casual, like he wasn’t two seconds away from getting choked up himself. But Ominis knew him too well—knew that the slight tremor in his voice, the way his fingers tightened against his shoulder, was just as much a betrayal of emotion as Ominis’ own wrecked state.

Evangeline still hadn't let go, her arms firm around him, her hand smoothing up and down his back in slow, grounding strokes. And Ominis—who had spent a lifetime holding himself apart, who had learned to flinch away from touch before he ever learned to accept it—could do nothing but sink into it.

Because it was safe. Because it was real.

Because it was his.

It was a family of his own making, built from the ruins of the past, from the people who had chosen him despite everything.

And it was the most precious thing he had ever been given.

Ominis took a shaking breath, tried to steady himself enough to speak properly. It didn’t quite work. "I—" He swallowed hard, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes like that might somehow stop the flood of tears. It didn’t. "You absolute nightmares."

Sebastian snorted, the sound thick with emotion. "Well, we're your nightmares."

Ominis let out something between a sob and a laugh, shaking his head. "I—Merlin’s beard, I don’t even know what to say."

"You don’t have to say anything," Evangeline murmured, like she was grateful for him, as if this hadn’t just completely undone him from the inside out.

Sebastian leaned back into the couch, sighing dramatically. "Yeah, the crying pretty much said it all."

Ominis didn’t even have the energy to glare at him. "Shut up."

Sebastian grinned, bumping their shoulders together, and Evangeline only held him closer.

[eloise175]

Callisto when Penelope rejected him in the greenhouse and life was not all so kiss kiss fall in love get married like he manifested

angy hamster Callisto because he could in fact not wife Penelope up just like that (next time he tries to get her to wife him up, trophy husband Callisto is true and he can hurt you)

[pinkgic]

ex-boyfriend fratboy!rafe. god help me!

cw. smut (mdni), fem!reader, toxic relationship, alcohol and drug use, mirror sex, degradation kink.

the music sounds distant, muffled by the white-tiled walls that appeared a light, smudged gray thanks to the alcohol fogging your brain—and the way his pelvis kissed your ass with each plap-plap-plap, echoing in the bathroom of a party you weren’t even supposed to be at. for this exact reason. you knew how it would end. with your lame coked-up excuse of an ex inside you.

and still, you couldn't even answer the big, ugly question sitting in your gut: why the fuck do i keep letting him do this? your body had betrayed you again, thighs spread wide and shaking as his cock hit that spot that made your toes curl against the cold tile. and, of course, your eyes met his in the large, square mirror above the sink. a voyeuristic form of self-loathing. as if you needed to confirm, once again, how the promises of, “no, i’m not gonna talk to him, not even look at him, i promise!” made to your friends, were entirely baseless.

perhaps even they had already accepted it—

“fuck,” he groaned, and a grin stretched across his stupidly handsome face as you let out another loud moan when his fat tip grazes your g-spot, bingo. thankfully, for the sake of your peace of mind (because he, more than once, hadn’t cared if the entire party heard how good his cock made you feel), the host’s house was massive. you’d ended up here with him because all the other bathrooms were occupied when the drinks you’d downed earlier hit, and that’s how you found yourself in the second-floor bathroom at the end of the hall. that's how “pee-and-leave” turned into this.

his right hand—the one not gripping your shoulder with his beefy arm wrapped tightly around your trembling torso—moved up, cupping your jaw and forcing you to look into the mirror at the two of you: sweaty, panting bodies. 

“fuckin’ look at that,” he panted, gaze flicking down. “hah, shit, look how those two bounce,” he slapped the side of your breast, leaving a hot, stinging mark. he was so mean.

and you hated yourself for clenching around him because of it.

his laugh was this low, mean sound, vibrating against your back as he leaned forward, his chest slick with sweat pressing into you like he needed to get as deep as possible. fucking gross. the thought was interrupted by the hot breath skating over the shell of your ear. “see that face you’re making?” he murmured. “‘s my favorite one. you look so—fuckin’—wrecked.”

and god, if he wasn’t right. your eyeliner had betrayed you hours ago, smeared into shadows that made your eyes look too big, too wide, like a haunted doll. your lips were red and swollen, half from the sloppy kiss that started this whole thing and half from biting down so hard to keep yourself quiet. the woman staring back at you was enjoying it, there was no way to deny that.

“shut up,” you hissed, you just wanted to look away. but his fingers curled tighter around your jaw, already marking his digits there.

“you don’t want me to shut up,” he taunted, his hips rolling deeper, lazier. like he had all the time in the world to ruin you. “you love it when i talk, when i tell you how fuckin’ good you’re taking it, like the slut you are.”

you hated him. you hated him so much you could cry—you were going to cry, but for different reasons. you hated the way he always knew exactly what to say, to keep you squeezing him between your slick walls, and getting you addicted every day a little bit more, increasing the dose.

but the worst part—the part that made your chest twist like a wet towel, wringing out something raw and acidic—was how he was right. he always was. every damn time. you hated how he’d figured you out. he was your ex, goddamn it!

because yeah, you did love it. loved the sound of his low voice dragging over your nerves like a matchstick ready to explode a bomb. loved the way his cock stretched you open until it felt like your brain short-circuited, leaving nothing but static between your ears. loved that stupid smirk, too. it wasn’t fair. he wasn’t fair. 

you tried to focus on anything else—the way the faucet dripped, the faint bassline pulsing through the floor beneath you, keeping your eyes open. “rafe,” you whispered in a treacherous moan.

his hand slid down your belly, splayed wide like he was claiming you, branding you his. “tell me,” his voice was almost tender now, mockery softened by the way he groaned as you clenched around him. “tell me how much you hate me while you’re drippin’ all over my cock.” 

you didn’t say anything. couldn’t. your throat tightened as your hips jerked back to meet his thrusts, sharp and desperate, chasing something you’d regret in the morning along with the hangover. or maybe right after you came. but right now, you needed it like you needed air. 

his laughter curled around you, mean and knowing, as his hand slid up your belly, splayed possessively just under your ribs. like he owned you. like he always had, no matter how many times you’d tried to scrape him out of your system. “that’s what I thought,” he muttered, his lips brushing your temple like a kiss. like he thought he was being romantic, like he thought this was some kind of fucked-up love story. “hate me all you want, baby. but this?” his hand slid lower, between your legs, pinching your sensitive clit, making you bite your lip hard enough to taste blood as your legs buckled. “this don’t lie.”

[halsteadlover]

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐞

*Pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Lando Norris x Female!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: Lando and his obsession with TikTok trends almost got him in trouble.

• Warnings: none, just few curse words I think lol.

• Word count: 776.

• A/N: I know, I know I’m just posting fics based on trends but this is the last one I promise 😭

“Got it babe? On the count of three make an ugly face.” Lando stated after setting up his phone and press record. He was standing behind you, his girlfriend, his hands resting on your shoulders as you sat while putting on your makeup.

You looked at him skeptically through the phone’s camera, with a confused look on your face. He was trying to hold back his laughter, already imagining your reaction.

“Why?”

“It’s just a game,” he replied, leaving a kiss above your hair. “Okay on my three. One, two… Baby! I said on my three!”

You frowned, continuing to look at your boyfriend through the phone and he suppressed another laugh, knowing by your face you were already getting upset even though you hadn’t said a word about it yet.

“Babe come on you can do it. Again. One… Oh c’mon why do you keep doing it before my three?!” he exclaimed and you didn’t answer again but he immediately noticed how your expression shifted from confusion to sadness, your lips slightly curved downwards.

“What?” you sadly whispered as you turned your head towards him. “What do you mean? Am I ugly?”

Lando felt his heart break at the sight of your tear-filled eyes as you looked at him with that broken expression, almost making him kneel on the floor. “Oh no, no, no, no, my love, oh my god,” he babbled, immediately hugging you from behind and leaving numerous kisses at the top of your head.

He pulled away after a while and turned the chair so that you were face to face with him. He knelt down and cupped your face with his hands as his thumbs caressed your cheeks. “I’m so sorry baby, please forgive me. I just wanted to make a stupid trend, please don’t cry. You’re not ugly, you’re the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on, you’re beautiful beyond belief please… I’m so sorry.”

He kissed your forehead, then your cheeks, your lips. “Please forgive me, oh baby I love you so much. I hate seeing you like this, I hate doing this to you. I swear to god I will never follow any stupid trends again… Fucking TikTok.”

“Can you cook my favorite dish tonight please?” you asked in a low voice.

“Of course baby, yes, whatever you want, I would buy you the moon if it made you happy. Please don’t cry, I’m so sorry.”

A bright smile appeared on your lips and you kissed him. “Thank you darling, I love you so much too.”

Lando let out a sigh relieved, even though you were just making fun of him. “You little… I thought I made you cry. Don’t ever do this to me again please, I though I was having a heart attack.”

You giggled and threw your arms around his neck, holding him tightly as he hugged you back, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his nose in your hair. “I’m sorry love, but you deserved it.”

He kissed your neck. “Yeah I do… God I’m never watching TikTok again in my life.”

You laughed and he pulled away from you, cupping your face with his hands again. “You sure you’re okay? You know it was just for a video right? You’re… To say you’re breathtakingly beautiful is an understatement and I’m not even kidding. There’s no word I could use that would even begin to describe how gorgeous I think you are. You’re so fucking perfect baby and I don’t want you to doubt that for even a second.”

“Hey, hey it’s okay love,” you stroked his hair, brushing it off his forehead and smiling gently. “I was just messing with you, I know it’s just a trend since I’ve seen it a million times. I’m on social media too you know.”

He nodded. “Yeah I know, I know, I just didn’t consider the fact I could hurt your feelings and seeing you with that sad expression broke my heart, even if it was just a joke, I want to make sure you know I’m totally crazy about you and you’re perfect, okay?”

You laughed again and nodded before kissing him. “I’m really okay, I promise baby.”

“Seriously, I worship the ground you walk on, I would lick any surface you sit on, that’s how desperate I’m for you.”

“Ew Lando! You’re disgusting!” You exclaimed, loudly chuckling and playfully shoving him away, making him burst out laughing.

“Okay you’re laughing so I guess it’s really fine, but don’t think I’m joking baby,” he retorted as he stood up and stopped the recording and you fake gagged. “But what do you think about the dinner I promised you now?”

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[simpjaes]

what do you think abt being jake’s newly gf, always being super cute and thinking he was super innocent. only ever kissing here and there and holding hands in your relationship

but then u find out after he left his phone unlocked to go to the bathroom, u curiously see one of his tabs open to a twitter link, and shockingly seeing the most vulgar videos that u can infer jake gets off too in secret

tags: jake has a HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE fucking gigantic cock. a mini fic is tagged as the continuation.

"Oh...that's...hot." You mutter in thought, staring down at the evidence in your hand, all huddled up on the couch. It had been a few weeks now since the two of you became official, or whatever. That's a few weeks of close to nothing in terms of sexuality though, mostly just a few kisses here or there, maybe a hug where he pulls you close and kisses you just slightly harder than usual. Always keeping his lower half away from you though.

For a while there you were wondering if the dude was a virgin. Given, well, he fucking acts like one. But now, oh...now. If, for some reason, he was a virgin, you wouldn't expect an interest such as this one.

You stare down at the muted phone, internally on fire as you watch a woman get absolutely fucking obliterated by a man with a dick way, way too big. Like, to the point you know it's gotta hurt her. But still, you tingle at it, almost clicking the bookmark button as if forgetting this isn't your phone, only to remember that yes, this is Jake's phone, and it's already fucking bookmarked.

Your sweet, caring, soft-voiced boyfriend jerks off to this. To the mess of it, the tears this woman offers to the camera, the huge cock stuffing inside of her without so much as letting her adjust.

And god, don't get you started on the position. An ugly one, most would say, but you just know that she feels good. So, good.

"Uh..."

You jump in surprise at your boyfriend's awkward voice, practically throwing the phone across the room before you're able to close out or lock it. Somehow, luck isn't on your side and you guess when the phone hit your table before bouncing off of it and sliding onto the floor, it somehow ended up unmuted.

And now, you're staring at Jake, and he's staring at you, all with a woman moaning, choking, crying loudly on the floor just three feet away from his phone. You watch his cheeks darken before he scratches the back of his neck, side stepping to grab his phone and close out of everything. He avoids eye contact after that, standing there in the middle of your living room with a somewhat....amused look now. "I...wasn't snooping." You try to start, voice caught in your throat for both embarrassment in your own actions, but second hand embarrassment for him. After all, the ice hasn't been broken yet with him. The, uh, sexual ice. "It seems a lot like you were snooping." He shoots his gaze at you now, pocketing his phone and huffing. "Well?" "Jake, I swear I thought you were like, a virgin or something." You explain quickly and in a panic. "I just, was wondering if maybe you weren't interested in me, or like, had someone else or something you were interested in since we haven't like...you know-" He cuts you off quickly, his entire demeanor changing in an instant. "A fucking virgin?! Really?" He says it as if he's offended, then he walks up to you, and stands right in front of you. You're sitting on the couch, and he's standing to where his cock is basically at eye level with you. He arches his back slightly, grabbing his bulge, palming it, warming it up. Showing it to you. "I just wasn't sure if you could take it, if I'm being honest. Plus, it's not like you've ever tried." A switch in your brain flicks on. He's right, you haven't made any moves on him due to your...you know, assumptions. And he, apparently, hasn't made the move out of the assumption you couldn't handle it. "Take what, your dick?" You raise a brow. "Well, if it's anything like, uh, the one in th-" "It's exactly like the one in the video, why do you think I watch it?" He smiles, grabbing himself blatantly as if to prove to you that even half hard, he's huge. "Oh..." "So I was right?" He asks now, tilting his head down at you. "Can you take it?" Well... you guess you'll just have to try and see. ~ BIG DICK FOR DUMMIES: basically a continuation that i already wrote.

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16

cw: modern au, some mature themes (in that it vaguely references past smut), allusion to past abusive dynamics/child abuse, thoughts of being undeserving and general emotional overwhelm

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 2.2k words

Sirius becomes aware of his trembling while you’re waiting for your score. It’s not unusual, he could tell himself, just the adrenaline of a big performance working its way out of his system, but he knows better. 

Seeing his parents shouldn’t bother him. It doesn’t, really—his tolerance for their shit is certainly lower than when he lived in their house, but he’s not as scared of them as he used to be either. Sirius isn’t sure what’s rattling him so badly now. Maybe it’s you. You and Remus, his team. 

Last night felt like a dream. It would have been easy to believe the two of you had been drinking as he had earlier, the way you’d moved together as though in a trance, heavy kisses and sweet, curious touches and the sort of words Sirius has only ever heard in his fantasies. After, when Remus thought you were both asleep, he’d pressed a kiss to your forehead and trailed his fingers through Sirius’ hair like Sirius was a gift to touch. 

Sirius stayed half awake through most of the night, blissfully aware of every soft noise Remus made in his sleep, every shift of your body against his. It really was like a long dream, hazy and wonderful. Too good to last. 

Waking felt only right. Sirius is not and never has been accustomed to hoping for better than he deserves. And reality is still better; he’s lucky to have it.

By the time he was fully conscious you and Remus were already moving, seemingly in the midst of a panic Sirius didn’t feel any particular need to contribute to. Competition loomed. The two of you seemed at war for who could be the sweetest and most prepared, each bringing caddies of drinks and each trying to sweeten his coffee enough to make it comparable to his beloved caramel latte from back home (neither of you were successful, but Sirius appreciated the effort nonetheless). You’d been fidgety and Remus reticent, but none of you had spoken about the night before. Sirius thought maybe it was best that way; he’d likely play the memory over in his head for the rest of his life, but he’d never ask anything more from either of you than a single night. Remus had been trying to soothe him and you’d been, at best, curious; it didn't have to mean anything. Sirius’ feelings were raw and unruly, but they weren’t your problem. You hadn’t signed on for that. He could tuck them back away. 

Then his parents had reared their ugly heads. You’d spoken when Sirius couldn’t—shouted, really. You were ferocious, a force of nature, and then Remus’ voice had been hard as steel when he’d told them to leave. He’d sent the two of you ahead, Sirius still reeling and you trying to steady him, and Remus returned having kicked Sirius’ mother and father out of the rink. (Kicked out! A teenage Sirius would have laughed for days.) You’d stood up for him, really defended him, the both of you. 

The knowledge had grounded him enough to hone his hurricane of emotions into determination just before your names were announced. On the ice, Sirius felt your stare as well as Remus’, on him and on each other, and it felt like his lungs were suddenly getting more air than they ever had before. He’d done his best to channel all of it into the routine, and then he was in the kiss and cry, both of your arms around him and this odd feeling shooting all the way down into his fingertips. 

He registers your score only distantly. It places you second, at least for the time being. There are a few pairs who still have to compete. 

Sirius is happy. He thinks he is, at least, he’s got everything he could possibly want. Two of the best people he’s ever known raining affection down on him like a torrent, a real chance at medaling in the Olympics, and his parents forced to watch it on TV instead of from the stands. He’s so happy he’s shaking with it. 

“Sirius.” You’re smiling at him, tears in your eyes, but there’s an uncertainty about your expression. “Are you okay?” 

Sirius’ throat tightens, but he speaks through it, squeezing your shoulders and trying to mirror your excitement. “Yeah. Aren’t you?” 

Evidently, his performance isn’t as persuasive as he’d like. Your brows bunch. “Of course I am, but…” 

To your credit, you’ve never brought up Sirius’ parents after he moved out. Sirius will sometimes joke about it, and you’ll laugh along, but you don’t push him to talk about the things he’s not ready for. He can see you battling that instinct now, trying to decide whether to leave him be or push the issue when you know something’s wrong. 

“Let’s get away from here,” says Remus in his usual calm way. He touches a hand between your shoulder blades, encouraging you out of the kiss and cry, knowing Sirius will follow. There’s a short hallway, at the end of it the press room, but Remus steps into a locker room halfway down. 

Sirius frowns. “We have to go take questions—” 

“They can wait,” Remus says. He sits down on a bench, stretching his leg out in front of him. “Do you need a few minutes?” 

Sirius feigns confusion, shaking his head. “I’m fine.” 

Remus is unconvinced. “You didn’t really have time to process before going out on the ice. I can’t…I don’t know all about what happened out there, but if it were me I imagine I’d need a while to sort myself out.” 

Sirius feels a familiar ire rising up in him, the itch for a good brawl. “Your imaginings aren’t a lot to go off, though, are they? I don’t need anything.” 

“Sirius,” you say, softly. Without warning, or without any warnings Sirius can discern, you wrap your arms around him. The stretchy material of your costume slides against his, your wrists crossing over his back and palms flattening by his shoulder blades. After a second Sirius starts to feel like a prick for not hugging you back, so he does. 

“Don’t,” you murmur, chin pushing into his shoulder. “You’re shaking.” 

So, that’s obvious then. 

Sirius holds you close, and he wonders if he could do more. This—hugging—has always been a privilege he felt like he hadn’t earned, but it’s not new. Is he still allowed to kiss you? If he pressed his nose to your neck and stayed there, would you push him away? 

He needs you to stroke his hair, or for Remus to call him one of his treacly pet names, to know that these looks passing between you mean something. 

“I’m okay,” he says, just as softly. “My parents can’t get to me like that anymore.” 

Remus has that infuriatingly attractive perceptive look again, tinged now with sadness. He asks gently, “What’s the matter, then?” 

“I…” Sirius shakes his head. He has the urge to think up a lie, something like I’m sore from all the fucking last night or my left sock is bunched horribly in the toe of my skate, but then you’re letting him go, looking up at him, and Sirius finds that he feels not trapped but safe between your gazes. “I’m confused.” 

You blink, surprised, but Remus looks as though he understands. “You mean about…” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh, god.” Remus lets out a heaving sigh, some tension Sirius hadn’t noticed in his posture releasing. “Me too.” 

It’s so unlike him that Sirius laughs. Remus chuckles, too, and you join in somewhat bemusedly. Uncertainty still hangs in the room, but there’s no awkwardness between you. How could there be?

“We didn’t really have the chance to talk anything over, did we?” asks Remus. 

“Did we not?” You’re looking between them, seeming genuinely perplexed. 

Sirius raises an eyebrow at you. “Not that I recall. I seem to remember the bloody Olympics getting in the way.” 

Remus laughs again. You look as surprised as Sirius by this; it’s probably as unwound as you’ve ever seen him. Sirius thinks he could get drunk on the sound. 

“I just…” You smile, tentatively. “I thought we talked about it last night.” 

Sirius leans his shoulder against the wall, trying to read you. “What do you think we talked about last night?” 

“We…didn’t you say…” Your brows draw together for a few moments before your expression shifts, eyes widening. “Was it just sex?” 

Sirius’ heart clenches. He shakes his head. He hates—hates—putting his feelings out to be inspected and judged, but he can’t leave you out here by yourself. “Not for me.” 

“We were the ones who sprung it all on you,” Remus tells you gently. “It would be understandable if you thought it was only for the night.” 

Your arms wrap around your middle, and you’re rubbing your lips together again. Sirius really wishes he could kiss you. He wants, suddenly desperately, to stop talking about all of this and go straight back to bed; he doesn’t care if he’s the one who brought it up. He’ll take whatever he can get with both of you. 

“I…was confused, at first,” you admit. “I hadn’t really considered it before, but I think maybe I just hadn’t let myself consider it? I don’t know if that makes sense.” 

Your voice is getting smaller as you talk. Sirius can’t stand it. 

“It does,” he says. “Listen, as far as I’m concerned, whatever you want it to be, it can. I don’t want to lose either of you.” 

No one has ever spoken up for Sirius the way you both did today. Whatever kind you decide to make it, there’s love between you. It’s better than he deserves, but he won’t give it up. 

“Sirius.” Remus’ tone is so laden with sympathy Sirius can’t stand it. He doesn’t want to look at him, at either of you, but he’ll never not rise to a challenge. The amber eyes that meet his are warm enough to melt in. 

“You couldn’t lose us,” Remus says simply. 

Sirius’ hands begin shaking worse than ever. 

“Obviously not.” You look almost offended. No longer small, though, so he supposes he’ll take his wins where he can get them. “I love you. I love both of you. I didn’t really think about how or—or in what way until recently, but that’s not going to change. I’m always going to care about you guys. Still, I…I would like to try.” You grow bashful again. Sirius catches’ Remus’ lips twitching at the change. “It wasn’t just sex for me.” 

Sirius’ heart inflates. You both look to Remus. He looks surprised to be considered, as if you might’ve forgotten he was there. 

“It was never just that for me,” he says, in that blunt way you can only ever really surprise out of him. Sirius feels himself beginning to smile, trying to quell it so Remus can finish. The other boy starts choosing his words more carefully, “I didn’t think…I didn’t want to presume anything, but I think I’ve wanted for more with the both of you for…well, probably since that first week.” His gaze drifts downward, brows pinching concernedly. “Oh, love, stop shaking. Come here, you’re alright.” 

Sirius would be a fool to turn down an offer like that. He pushes off from the wall, going to sit beside Remus on the bench. You follow, sitting on Sirius’ other side and snaking your arms around his waist in a tight hug while Remus’ arm comes to rest across his shoulders. The weight of both of you is strangely reassuring; again, Sirius has that feeling, that he’s not trapped but engulfed. Embraced. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips to his shoulder. “They shouldn’t have been here.” 

Sirius lifts a hand, bringing it around your head to where a few pieces of hair have begun rebelling against the style you’d put it in for competition. He runs one between his fingers, because he can. 

“It’s really okay,” he says. “I’m not upset. I don’t know why I’m still reacting like this. I feel fine.” 

Remus makes a considerate humming sound. “It’s been a long day.” 

“It’s not even noon,” you point out. 

Sirius laughs, and the two of you do, too, holding onto each other despite your exhaustion. 

“A lot has happened,” Remus amends. “We can relax now, though, yeah? No more parents, no more competition. You’ve done the best you can, and it was amazing, truly, but now you can ease up.” 

Sirius is beginning to feel better, some unknown part of him unspooling. There was the disbelief, the hazy dream of last night. Then the fraught, tremulous happiness of morning, charged looks and harsh words spoken not at but for each other. And then there’s this. New, precious, but it doesn’t feel delicate. It feels like the rush of lowering you into a death spiral and knowing he can trust you to bear it. Knowing you can trust him to keep you up. 

You sigh. “We still have to talk to the press, though.” 

“Oh, that’s not so bad.” Remus’ arm tightens around Sirius’ shoulders, squeezing. There’s a smile in his voice. “You’ll do great. Who wouldn’t love the two of you?”

[darlingsfandom]

what’s mine is mine !

pairing: emperor geta x fem reader!

summary: Geta has met his match.

tw: public fucking, p in v, unprotected sex, nipple play, jealousy , cream pie! Mention of hairy pussy! That’s not really a warning because hairy pussy is 100% natural and valid ! Not proofread.

Rome, the city of beauty, romance and lust the place you’ve called home since birth has expanded further than anyone could ever imagine including yourself , but over the last few years you’ve been feeling like it’s not what you need anymore. You need more!

The city was busy as always as you walked around on the cobble stones holding the bottom of your tunica with a smile on your face. Everyone knew who you were but never dared to challenge you. They would smile and nod. You were the grand daughter of one of the men in Geta and Caracallas senate and that’s how you found yourself constantly wondering around in the palace drawing the twin emperors attention. It was no shock that the two would fight over you but you never gave them the satisfaction.

As you walked back into the palace after your usual morning stroll you stumbled across Geta standing there looking out at the streets below.

“My Emperor.” You nodded your head before bowing just enough that he could catch a glimpse of your breasts. Geta straightened his posture and held his head high almost looking down at you. You placed your hand over your heart and gave him a gentle smile , but little did he know what was lurking behind your lips.

“And just where have you been?” Geta asked as you went to walk away.

“Out for my morning walk, as I do every morning MY emperor.” You spat on the word my making sure he understood that you meant business. Just like Geta, you were also a selfish, crud human being however you were able to mask the ugliness in a way that no would ever suspect. Geta walked up to you, gripped the side of your throat and made you look into his enraged eyes. His nostrils flared as your eyes softened.

“Try again.” His grip on your neck tightened making you gasp. His ears perked up to the sweet little sound. “Because you know that I know exactly what goes on in my empire.” He spat back at you.

“Fuck you Geta.” You spoke quietly since he had a grip. Geta raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Fuck me? FUCK ME? How dare you! You’re nothing more than a senators grand daughter…”

“Who was birthed from Venus herself! And raised as if Pluto himself was still around! You don’t dare mess with me Geta.” You gritted your teeth before shoving him with what strength you had left. Get scuffed at you before rolled his eyes.

“And you seem to forget that the gods speak to me! I am emperor!”

“That you share with your brother! You could never be an emperor on your own!” You huffed rubbing your throat before you felt your back against the wall as Geta shoved you backwards. His hands quickly gripped your wrists and pinned them above your head.

“Now I know you’re a sweet girl, what has you so worked up you dare tip toe the line to disobey me?” His nose rubbed against yours making you soften a little bit. Both of you stood silent looking in each other’s eyes. He could see the temper boiling behind them making him turned on.

“What’s mine is mine Geta! You are mine!” You lunged forward making Geta chuckle until he realized how what you just said was true. “I gave you my virginity many moons ago! Our souls are connected and you can not deny it. The fact I have to even say it like that makes me want to cry. The fact I witnessed you looking at a whore the way you look at me… what if I had looked at Caracalla the way I look at you? You’d have my head cut off in a second!” Anger boiled in your voice as your hands gripped onto his arms making him whimper a little since your nails were digging into his soft flesh.

Geta couldn’t deny what you were saying, he could easily have your head cut off but he also wouldn’t actually hurt a hair on your head. He was secretly soft for you and loved actually making love to you, yes fucking you was just as good but you were more than that, no one else was allowed to touch you the way he did. The issue between the two of you is that you’re both so stubborn but the difference is that you are actually acting upon your feelings for Geta. He stepped back and reached out to stroke your face as if you were made of glass. You titled your cheek into his hand.

“You my beauty, have no reason to be so jealous of such a common whore. I do not love her, she was a sight to look at. You, you’re a goddess and you know that. You are mine and only mine!” Geta ran his thumb over your bottom lip while you felt tears roll down your cherry cheeks.

“Then love me like you meant Geta! No more whores around the palace! No more staring at them until your brain is no longer functioning! If I am yours, then I want you to announce it to the gods themselves !” Your words were heard as Geta grabbed your face and kissed you hard. The kiss was nothing like you’ve felt from him before, it was making your stomach feel full of butterflies and your thighs clench together all at once. His lips moved away from yours so he could place his forehead to yours and look into your eyes.

“My beauty, I will do more than tell them and not just the gods, all of Rome will know who you belong too!” Geta pulled on your hand and took you out to the balcony. The people below stopped what they were doing when the heard the sound of Geta clearing his throat to speak but he did not say a word! You furrowed your eyebrows together in confusion as Geta put his hand on your back, pushed you over the edge enough that everyone got a good look at you and the crowd gasped when they realized it was you. As if the gods were actually watching, the sun poked through the dark clouds and illuminated your figure. Anxiety ran through your veins but your face would never show it.

Silence. Complete silence as Geta stood there holding you close until he opened his mouth.

“I will make this clear as I can so that no man will ever lay a finger upon MY beauty!” His words made you clench around nothing but your cheeks turned even redder by the second. Geta stood behind you , untied your tunica and let it fall exposing your naked body making the crowd gasp. “A true beauty shaped and birthed from Venus herself and she belongs to me. No one shall harm a hair on her head nor shall they try to make love in way to her, if anyone shall try then you will be meeting the gods sooner than you’ve thought.” He placed his hands on your breasts and massaged them slowly, rolling your hardened nipples inbetween his fingers while his lips kissed along your neck making sure to suckle on the delicate skin that made your eyes roll back.

Geta did not care who watched as he ran his fingers down your body until he reached your hips. He moved his lips along your shoulder as he moved his hands to your plushy thighs and spread them apart. His fingers trailed along your hairy folds. A soft moan escaped your lips as his finger slowly slid inside of you. Geta moaned at how wet you already were. The fact that he could easily fuck you in a public place and every other nasty kink you had made him feel proud. His finger slowly moved in and out of you making you bite your bottom lip to which Geta squeezed your cheeks with his free hand and made you open your mouth. You were melting into his touch.

Geta smirked as he leaned in and spit into your mouth making the crowd below you make mixed noises. You swallowed eagerly and Geta county deny how attracted he was to you. Who on earth would allow something like that? But that’s why he was attracted to you. His finger pulled out of your wet cunt and slipped into your mouth. You sucked softly on his finger as he spread open your legs, bent you over the railing and worked on lifting up his on tunic. His cock was leaking with milky pre-cum, the feeling of his wet head rubbing against your hairy folds made you moan around his finger until he pulled it away and wiped it on your cheek. You smiled until you felt the head of his cock pushing inside of you.

“Geta!” You whimpered as he eased into your warm hairy cunt .

“That’s it , tell them who is pleasing you so well!” He gripped onto your hips tightly as he pushed his cock all the way in making you grip the railing until your knuckles turned white. Geta groaned at stretching you out, the way you were mumbling below him made him close his eyes. He waisted no time in bottoming out before he railed you over the railing. The sound of his balls slapping against your wet cunt echoed to the people who were still watching below. A few of those people were also touching their bodies as Geta took no mercy on your cunt. You were a whimpering mess until Geta wrapped his arm around your waist and held you up straight so he could play with your nipples while his cock pounded into your cunt.

Sweat covered your skin as Geta praised how good you feel. His fingers twisted your nipples making you yelp at first before he pulled on them. His lips attacked your neck with kisses while his hand reached down and pressed his finger against your clit to rub it fast. The added pleasure had your knees buckling as your orgasm rushed inside of you.

“Geta , Geta , please , I … oh I feel..”

“I know you do, I can feel how wet you’re getting, how hard you’re squeezing me! Show them! Show them how good you’re feeling, let it go.” Geta whispered into your ear and nibbled on your ear lobe which sent you over the edge.

“GETA!” You cried out as your orgasm ripped through your body, making your knees shake and in a surprise your body was in a state of pleasure that you actually squirted against his cock, soaking him and Geta was beyond pleased. You were the first one to ever orgasm like that for him.

“What a beautiful sight!” He couldn’t hold back his own orgasm and groaned out as his cum shot into your cunt. You could feel him filling you up. The warm sticky liquid dripped down your thighs since he had such a big load. Geta used his fingers to scoop his cum up and shove them into your mouth that was panting. You suckled greedily as Geta stood behind you with a satisfied smirk while the crowd below cheered.

“Let it be known that what’s mine is mine and she is mine!” Geta clapped his hands as he did a loud boom of thunder sounded making him smirk. Geta got exactly what he wanted and so did you. You stood up slowly as he admired the number he did on you. Your neck was covered in purplish marks , cum covered thighs and pupils blown, a true beauty in his mind a beauty that belonged to him.

[vivwritescrappythings]

saying thanks

joel miller x afab!fem!reader

Joel is your grumpy patrol partner who doesn’t even talk to you in the streets of Jackson. But one night a man grabs your arm at the Tipsy Bison, and Joel’s decided he doesn’t like it.

tw: smut, fem reader, afab reader, unspecified age gap, reader is smaller than Joel (shorter, can be picked up by him), oral (m! receiving), p in v sex, crying, fighting, blood, drinking, Joel may be out of character but I don’t care, not proofread.

Word count: 8.1k

masterlist

MDNI!

—

Joel was seething. You’d never seen him like this, rage burning in his gaze and his hands balled into fists at his sides as he was pushed toward the door. Of course you’d seen him in fights before, dealing with raiders and infected on patrol was a bloody business at best, but the second the new guy, Jake? Jack, at the Tipsy Bison put a hand on you—just touching your arm—Joel exploded.

You didn’t even have time to blink before the man grabbing your arm was on the ground, ugly bruises blossoming on his face. You didn’t even launch into action to get Joel off of him, shock leaving you frozen. You only remained plastered against the bar, gaping at Joel’s savage expression and the way his fists bludgeoned Jack's face. The drink in your hand spilled over the sides a bit, a sticky combination of fruit juice and alcohol coating your skin and absorbing in the sleeve of your sweater.

You were already tipsy, your face hot and your eyes a bit glassy. You were more loose with your expressions, the careful filter you kept starting to deteriorate. By the time a bar fight broke out, you were already more than a few drinks in, your heart pounding in your chest along with the soft music and a thin layer of sweat starting to prickle at the back of your neck.

Joel had stayed quiet that night, sticking to the secluded booth in the back of the bar that he usually haunted. There was no acknowledgement of each other, his chocolate-colored eyes had landed on you for a moment when you walked in, shadowed over by his dark brow in its permanent scowl. As always, he didn’t speak to you despite the fact that you spent most mornings together patrolling the outskirts of Jackson.

He wasn’t your biggest fan, even going so far as to complain to his brother when the two of you had been assigned together. Tommy was giving you a shot on the patrol, you were newer to Jackson and needed a job. You could handle a gun and didn’t seem completely clueless, so he figured he would stick you with Joel to see if you made it out on the other side.

But, nevertheless, Joel was now being pulled off Jack by a few other patrons. They hauled him up by the collar of his canvas jacket, his knuckles bloodied and a snarl on his face as Jack scrambled away. You still stood wide-eyed and dopey, your voice caught in your throat as you struggled for something to say.

Joel wouldn’t look at you, eyes drilling into Jack as he was shoved toward the door. He kept hissing threats through his teeth, snippets of ‘I’ll break your fucking arm if you ever touch her again,’ audible above the music as he grappled with the men trying to contain him.

Your gaze traced the outline of his aquiline nose, the way his lips were pursed beneath his dark mustache. It was a struggle to push him out the door. You flinched when it slammed shut behind him, spilling more of your drink.

“You better get your damn dog on a leash.” It was one of the older women in the neighborhood, her brows drawn and a disgusted expression on her face as she regarded you. You finally snapped out of your shocked stupor, looking at Jack’s bloodied and swollen face as he was picked up and put into a booth.

What was Joel even thinking?

You downed your drink in a few gulps, setting the empty glass on the bar before pushing yourself away from the bar top. Wind swept inside the Tipsy Bison as you forced the door open, providing a moment of relief from the humid heat of the bar. It was starting to get cold out, dried leaves swirling in the breeze as autumn settled into the bones of Jackson.

You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself as you peered out into the darkness. The leaves crunched under your shoes as you took a few tentative steps, the sweater you wore offering you little protection from the wind.

Joel leaned against the wall of a nearby business, his head tilted back and his throat bared to the dim light of the moon. He was sucking in deep breaths through his mouth, his bloody knuckles limp at his sides. His jacket was off-kilter from where he’d been thrown out the door, his hair mussed.

“Joel?” You approached him like you would a wild animal, on high alert and prepared for any sudden movement.

He looked at you with a bored expression, the moonlight catching on the silver hair that splintered at his temples and in his patchy beard. You hesitated, stopping your approach for a moment before pressing on until you were a few feet in front of him. His dark curls stuck up in every direction, they were a little long now that winter was approaching.

“What the hell was that?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest as your weight settled so one hip popped out to the side. You sounded more aggressive than you intended to, the words coming out like an accusation rather than a question.

It was times like this that made the age and size difference between you and Joel apparent. He stood up straight, towering over you a bit as he cleared his throat. Sometimes he made you feel like you were still just a dumb teenager instead of a woman in her mid twenties. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, his voice a deep grumble with a slight southern twang to it.

A scoff leaves your mouth before you can even stop it, the alcohol reducing your filter to near non-existence. “What do you mean, Joel? I watched you beat the shit out of that guy for what? Touching my arm?” You were a little too loud, your voice ricocheting off the buildings around you. Under different circumstances, you would have cringed and apologized immediately, but something forced you to soldier on.

Thankfully no one else was outside that night—it was too cold and still too early for the Tipsy Bison to have a last call. It felt like a standoff. His dark eyes were trained on your face, his mouth drawn into a scowl. You usually backed down to him, acquiescing to his stubborn nature.

“And so what if it was?” Joel grumbled, his attitude matching your own. The way he crossed his arms made his biceps bulge under the fabric of his jacket—your breath hitched for a moment before you glanced away.

You shook your head, disbelief coloring your expression as his words settled in. “You don’t even like me!” You can’t help but gesture wildly, your hands moving like they had minds of their own.

He ignored you regularly. There was an unspoken rule of only acknowledging one another on patrols together. The woods outside of Jackson were the only place that Joel would actually talk to you, otherwise you acted like perfect strangers in town.

His jaw clenched as he pushed off the wall, taking a few steps closer to you. “Who said I didn’t like you?” he asked, his voice lower as his head dipped toward yours.

He couldn’t be serious.

Your eyebrows shot up, disbelief making you smile incredulously. “What, so ignoring me in public and complaining about me to Tommy is how you treat your friends?” You were moments away from leaving and letting Joel find a new patrol partner.

You spent too much time defending Joel from his reputation as the town pariah, arguing that he wasn’t the animal everyone thought he was. He had a hard time blending in, bigger than most everyone except for his brother and unapproachable to a fault. It seemed that Tommy and Ellie were the only people he willingly spoke to, otherwise keeping largely to himself.

Sometimes you wondered if he heard the rumors going around about him—speculation that he used to be a hunter, a smuggler, a heartless killer. You never had it in you to ask him about it.

Not that he would tell you, anyways.

Joel’s scowl deepened, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. His silence did nothing but rile you up, it felt like an admission to the fact that you were right. You huffed, the autumnal breeze making dried leaves stick to your jeans and your breath clouding in the air.

“Well, Joel, you should really figure out how to act like an adult,” you snapped, shaking your head as you started to turn away from him. “You’re way too old to be beating up boys at a bar for touching someone you don’t even give a damn about.”

The Tipsy Bison called to you, warm light spilling out the windows and the people moving inside. Your friends were still in there, giggling with one another at the bar. You could see others nursing Jack in a booth, pressing ice wrapped in towels against his face as his blood turned them pink.

“I didn’t like how he was grabbing ya,” Joel finally said after you’d taken a few steps away. The admission made you stop in your tracks, looking back over your shoulder at the man. He looked sheepish as he admitted it, his gaze on the floor like a toddler getting scolded. He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath before redirecting his eyes to the sky. “You didn’t… you didn’t hear how he was talking about you… didn’t want you with a guy like that.”

Your eyebrows shot up, your lips parting slightly. Your head tilted up to look at him properly, eyes narrowed slightly as you evaluated him. He seemed shockingly sincere, the awkward expression on his face sealing the deal. “Careful Joel, I’m almost starting to think you care about me.”

There was something in the way his eyes shifted to meet yours that almost made your heart stop.

“Never said I didn’t care,” he mumbled, one of his baseball mitt hands coming to rub the back of his neck. The blood on his knuckles was drying, turning to a rust color under the moonlight. You couldn’t help but purse your lips, tilting your head to one side. It was hard to understand, the alcohol making you feel like you were buzzing as you mulled over Joel’s words.

He cleared his throat again, shuffling a little closer to you in the process. “When I talked to Tommy, I wasn’t complainin’ about you,” Joel said. His cheeks were flushed, making you wonder if he was cold or just from the alcohol. He was notorious for sucking down bourbon like it was water, especially on nights when he had nothing to do the next day.

“You weren’t?” you asked, probing the older man a bit. You had only walked by when Joel was talking to his brother, catching your name in their hushed whispers and Joel’s strained expression. You’d assumed it was because he was stuck with you, a newer recruit, a woman.

Joel sighed, shaking his head. It felt like you were pulling every word from his throat. “Tommy… he uh… he put us together because he thought it would be good for me,” he said, hesitating between parts of his sentence. “Thought you’d be good for me.”

“Good for you?” The alcohol made your voice soft around the edges, the question tumbling out of you before you had the sense to stop it. Joel stepped closer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. He was close enough that you could see the scar on his ear, the scars littering his bloodied hands and the ones across his nose. Sure, you’d seen them on patrol as you walked shoulder to shoulder, but for some reason you find yourself trying to memorize every detail about him in the moonlight.

“Yeah, sweetheart, good for me,” Joel mumbled, looking down at his boots for a moment before making eye contact with you again. Sweetheart. The nickname rattled around in your mind, echoing in time with your heartbeat. You would’ve punched anyone else for calling you sweetheart, but it sounded good coming from Joel.

Your face heated up, an odd smile quirking up the corners of your mouth as you struggled to find words to say. “You’re a liar, Joel,” you manage to spit out.

He let out a chuckle, the kind that hardly made any noise and just let out a sharp breath of air. You earned one every now and then, it always made you beam when you could get him to chuckle on patrol. “Yeah? I could’ve switched a long time ago,” Joel murmured, shrugging his broad shoulders. “Tommy offered to let me switch.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, a sliver of your combative nature rising up your throat. You wanted to argue with the older man, inform him that he was wrong.

Joel must have picked up at the way your jaw twitched, your expression twisting. “It’s nice to listen to ya blabber in the mornings,” he said, his tone lighter than it had been. It was almost easy to forget what happened in the Tipsy Bison, the way you watched him beat Jack’s face into a pulp.

You huffed, shaking your head. There was a small smile on your face as the heat continued to rise on your cheeks. “Then why do you act like I’m a stranger when I see you around?” you asked Joel. You scraped your teeth over your lower lip, scuffing the toe of your shoe in the dirt.

Joel’s face fell a bit, his eyes softening as he became serious once more. “You don’t want to be around me anyways, people would judge ya.” It was like he didn’t want to admit it, his voice low and mumbling.

You hummed your disagreement, deciding to be bold and step even closer to the huge man in front of you. He towered a head over most people in Jackson, strong and wide and sturdy. You looked over his tanned, weathered skin, his dark curls that were starting to show age through scattered silver strands. “You don’t seem too bad to me,” you said, nearly a whisper.

You saw how Ellie looked at him like he was her favorite person in the world. If that girl could trust him, then so could you.

Joel’s warmth radiated onto you in the cool evening, the smell of bourbon on his breath and blood on his hands. He shook his head, maintaining the closeness you’d established. “Sweetheart, you know most of the shit they say about me around this town is true.”

You’d figured as much. You’d watched Joel kill raiders without a blink of an eye and jump into action whenever infected approached the high, protective walls around Jackson. The first time you’d witnessed it, his precision took your breath away. Now it was something that you had come to depend on.

“I assumed as much,” you said with a shrug, folding your arms over your chest and tucking your hands under your armpits to keep them warm. “Never mattered to me,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek for a moment.

You considered going back to the bar to avoid the chill, but you didn’t feel like having to answer questions about you and Joel all night. Everyone would want to know what he said to you out here, would have their own ideas about why he did it. There were a few breaths of silence. “But, I should probably go home.”

“Not gonna go back inside?” Joel asked, nodding his chin toward the Tipsy Bison. His gaze was still focused on you. You thought about it for a moment before shaking your head, glancing back at the bar. It had lost its appeal.

“Just home, Joel. Have a good night… thanks for protecting my honor and stuff,” you said with a small smile. There was a lightness in the way you spoke, your eyes sparkling in the darkness.

You started to walk toward your house, living in the opposite direction from Joel. “Make sure you clean up those hands of yours, don’t want to have to get another patrol partner any time soon,” you said without looking back, dead leaves crunching under your feet with each step.

You heard his heavy footfalls behind you until Joel fell into step at your side. “Mind helping me out? Not great at first aid,” he said, holding his knuckles out in front of him. They were blown apart.

“Jesus, Joel,” you muttered, grabbing one of his wrists to inspect his hand as you walked. His wrist was warm and thick in your hand, he didn’t pull away. The wounds overlapped a number of scars beneath them, a snippet of Joel’s past violence. “Were you trying to kill him or just teach him a lesson?”

“I don’t pull my punches,” Joel said with a noncommittal shrug, making you roll your eyes. Of course he didn’t. Joel definitely taught him a lesson. You dropped his wrist, not giving him a response as you followed the path to your home.

Your house was one of the smaller ones, the yellow paint starting to peel off the siding and the wall around Jackson casting a shadow over it in the moonlight. Joel was grumbling about your proximity to the wall as you opened your front door and flicked on the lights.

“Take off your boots before you track mud in, I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” you tell Joel, toeing your shoes off before you head to one of the bathrooms. You can still hear him complaining as his heavy boots hit the floor, his lumbering footsteps going to the kitchen. The layout for all of the homes in Jackson was relatively the same, the sub-development it had been converted from seemed fairly cookie-cutter.

Joel sat patiently at the counter as you brought in the first aid kit, setting it down on the stone countertop and flicking it open. He seemed calm and unconcerned, more like a seasoned veteran to first aid than a novice. “I find it hard to believe that you’re bad at this,” you murmured, opening an alcohol wipe to start cleaning his knuckles.

Joel placed his big, catcher’s mitt hands flat on the counter for you to work. His jaw tensed a few times as you wiped over the largest knuckle on each of his hands. “I’m here for your gentle touch, sweetheart,” he muttered, sarcasm biting his tone and making you laugh.

“I’m not a nurse for a reason,” you said, smearing ointment onto the wounds with your fingertips. You tried to be careful, not applying too much pressure to the irritated skin.

Joel chuckled, watching your movements as you pulled out a roll of gauze and loosely wrapped his wounds to cover them. He flexed his hands as soon as you were finished, the gauze stretching tight when he made fists. “Good as new,” you said, leaning against the countertop. You both looked down at his bandaged wounds, lingering in the closeness before you stepped away.

“Now, you should hold off on bar fights for a while.” Mirth glittered in your eyes as you grabbed a wine bottle from one of the shelves in your kitchen. You grabbed two glasses without asking, methodically going through the motions of opening the bottle and pouring.

It felt like you and Joel were sprinting head-first at a line the two of you had never crossed before. There was a shift from coworkers to something else, and it started the second Joel pounced on Jack. You found yourself studying his face as you handed him a wine glass, categorizing his features as you took a sip. He was handsome, but he always had been—you just didn’t let yourself recognize it.

“No promises,” Joel grumbled, taking a long drink. You watched him swallow, your eyes partially lidded before you remembered yourself. You felt your cheeks and ears heat up as you took another drink, unclenching your fist at your side and focusing on the stretch of the bones and ligaments.

“You really didn’t need to beat Jack up, I can handle myself,” you murmured, your lashes fluttering as you redirected your gaze to Joel.

He just snorted softly, shaking his head. His expression twisted into amusement, the papery wrinkles of his crow’s feet becoming pronounced. Your brows furrowed, your head tilting as you prepared to argue the fact that you could, in fact, defend yourself. “His name is Jake.”

Embarrassment made blood rush to your face so quickly you almost felt light headed. A sheepish smile settled on your features, a giggle working its way through your throat. “He even let me call him Jack like… five times the other day,” you said into your wine glass, a guilty look on your face.

“Poor boy’s got it bad then,” Joel said, smirking at you. His dark eyes appeared even darker in the lighting of your kitchen.

“Don’t worry, I think you scared him enough,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. You picked your glass up off the counter, walking out of the kitchen to your cozy living room.

Joel came to sit on the couch as you stoked a fire to life, burning some of the dried kindling you kept in a bucket near the fireplace to coax the logs to life. You could feel his eyes on your back as you crouched, the flames breathing warmth over you as they crackled. The combination of his gaze, the fire, and the wine you kept sucking down in mouthfuls made a sweat prickle at the back of your neck as you stood up straight.

He made himself comfortable, lounging on the couch with an arm draped on the back of it. He’d brought the bottle of wine, it sat on the coffee table next to his empty glass. One of your eyebrows arched as you sat next to him, leaving enough space between the two of you that you could twist and bring your knees and feet up onto the sofa.

“You really made yourself at home.”

Joel cracked an easy smile, the fire illuminating the deep shadows of scowl lines on his forehead. You felt the urge to smooth them out with your fingertips. “I’ve got a habit of doing that,” he said, his dark gaze sliding to the fireplace. One of the logs popped, sending sparks through the hearth.

There was a lapse of silence where you reached over and filled up his wine glass again. You felt surprisingly comfortable next to him, relaxing your side against the cushioned back of the couch as you faced Joel. “The ladies at the Tipsy Bison called you my guard dog.”

That made him outright snicker. “Yeah? I’m your guard dog, huh?” he asked, clearly teasing. The way his flannel clung to his shoulders was heavenly, wrapped around every well-defined muscle like a second skin. The wine was staining his mouth purple, you were enraptured as his tongue darted out to catch any remaining drops on his lips.

You cleared your throat, blinking as you nodded. “Said I should get you on a leash,” you mumbled, the heat on your cheeks spreading to your neck and ears. You gulped the wine to break some of the tension, your nose scrunching as you swallowed.

There was a shift, it would’ve gone unnoticed if you weren’t paying attention.

Joel stretched a bit, tilting his head back as he finished the rest of the wine in one gulp before setting the glass on the coffee table. When he sat back, he’d moved closer to you. Your knee was nearly touching his thigh, that inch of empty space feeling electric.

“Do you want me on a leash?” he asked, his voice deep. There was something different to his tone, the harsh edges of his voice rounded out more than usual. The question made your breath stutter in your chest. The sincerity in his expression caught you off guard. You opened your mouth to speak, only silence coming out. “If there was anyone who could convince me, it would probably be you, sweetheart.”

You choked on your wine, awkward and clumsy as you sat up straight to prevent it from coming out of your nose. Part of you felt like Joel had turned you inside out as you spluttered, confusion and self-consciousness running rampant.. Finally you got a hold of yourself, sucking in wet breaths with tears in your eyes.

“You okay?” His voice was sweet and soft when he asked, as though he hadn’t caused it. You nodded, waiving off his concern as his paw of a hand grabbed your shoulder. His touch was napalm, igniting your skin through your thin sweater.

“Just surprised me,” you choked out, wiping away the tears with the heel of your hand as you sniffled. Joel’s hand stayed where it was, his thumb rubbing along your collarbone over the black fabric. He did nothing but hum his acknowledgement, patiently waiting for you to catch your breath.

Another cough rattled through you before you could breathe again. Joel’s eyebrows were raised as he watched you, mirth sparkling in his eyes. “You are so full of shit, Joel Miller,” you finally said, pushing his shoulder lightly.

He still was touching you, leaning forward into your space as he did so. Your breaths were shallow, apprehensive and giddy in all the right ways.

“You think I’m full of shit?” he asked, smirking.

“I know you are.” You couldn’t help but flirt, batting your eyelashes and smirking at Joel. You felt electric, lightning just crackling under your skin with the potential thrill of him reciprocating. Sure, you were risking a decent work relationship, but you could get a new patrol partner.

He hummed thoughtfully, his hand creeping toward the back of your neck. The stretch of his fingers to the meat of his palm spanned nearly three-quarters of the circumference of your throat, something that should’ve chilled you to the bone. Excitement sparked in your belly as you swallowed against the firm press of his thumb on your windpipe.

“You don’t seem like an ‘on the leash’ kind of guy,” you murmured, the feeling of the gauze you’d wrapped around his knuckles rubbing against your soft skin making you shiver slightly.

“No, guess I don’t,” Joel agreed, his dark brown gaze shifting from your eyes to your mouth and back. It was so quick, but the thrill that followed made you feel like you were glowing. You slicked your tongue over your lower lip, making it shine in the firelight.

The way he spoke made you press your thighs together, the stiff seam of your jeans pressing against you in the perfect way if you shifted how you were sitting. Joel moved as well, his thighs spreading just a bit, a palm quickly smoothing over his lap in an action he probably didn’t think he would notice.

“Sweetheart, we should just get this out of the way.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion before Joel was pulling you toward him, his lips slotting over yours. A soft, startled noise was muffled against Joel’s mouth, shock dissipating quickly as your eyes slid shut. His mustache tickled your upper lip as you accidentally bumped your nose against his.

When he pulled back, there was a hint of a smile on his face. Your face felt like it was on fire, a goofy grin gracing your features as your gaze flickered over him.

Joel’s other hand crept onto your jean-clad thigh, a calloused thumb stroking along the frayed hole at your knee. “So, was that weird for you?” you asked like an insecure teenager, your teeth digging into your lower lip as you waited for his answer.

Your heart was pounding, the irrational side of your brain wondering if he was able to hear it. He surely felt it against his palm, his heavy hand resting near your pulse as he kept you close on the couch. He smiled at your question, shaking his head no as he pulled you back in for a second kiss. It was quicker, a messy stamp of his mouth over yours.

“Didn’t think you’d be into an old man like me,” he said with a chuckle. If you didn’t know better it almost seemed like Joel felt bashful. The apples of his cheeks were dusted pink, whether it was from the kiss or the wine you didn’t know.

Your eyebrow arched, a grin still on your face. “You’re not old,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. Your hands were pressed into your lap, part of you not knowing what to do with them. You looked up at Joel through your eyelashes before your gaze dragged down his torso and to his jeans. The flannel he wore was thin, the fabric well-worn and not tucked into his blue jeans.

“I should, um, thank you,” you murmured, shifting to put your empty wine glass on the coffee table.

Joel chuckled, still watching you like a hawk that set sights on its prey. “Last I checked, you were just lecturing me about fighting your own battles,” he teased, curiosity shining deep in his chocolate eyes as you got off your couch.

The wine must have gotten to your head, because you would’ve thought you were losing your mind. You moved to stand between Joel’s legs, slowly sinking to your knees on the squishy gray carpet that covered your living room. “I don’t have to thank you if you don’t want me to, Joel,” you murmured, your hands hovering over his thick thighs for a moment before resting on them.

He looked dumbfounded and giddy, his hands already resting on the black, leather belt he wore around his waist. “No, sweetheart, you’ve got a…uh… promising idea,” Joel said with a smile, shifting his legs so they bracketed you and his knees pressed against the coffee table.

You laughed softly, hands roaming up his muscular thighs to where his belt rested just under the soft layer of fat covering his stomach. “You sure? I can always get back up,” you said teasingly, working your fingers under the tongue of his belt and pulling the buckle open. It clinked as it fell off to the sides, you didn’t bother pulling it from the belt loops.

Joel shook his head, leaning back farther into the couch and shifting his hips toward you. “M’sure,” he answered, preoccupied on the way your fingers popped open the button of his jeans and worked the zipper down.

He was already hard, the outline of his cock pressing against the denim and toward his thigh. You reached into his black boxers, pulling it out of its confinement with a satisfied sigh.

He was big, bigger than any other guy you’d been with. You held the base of his cock, fingers against the curly, dark hair that covered his pubic bone and ran up toward his belly button. It was hot to the touch, the head already leaking precum that followed the path of the prominent veins down his shaft. It was more pink than the rest of him, the head a shade darker than the rest.

You licked your lips, almost embarrassed to find yourself drooling as you braced your forearm on his thigh and kitten-licked at the underside of Joel’s cock. He grunted at the contact, his hands digging into the plush cushion of the couch as his hips twitched toward your face.

“Eager,” you mumbled, a smile on your face as you looked up at Joel through your eyelashes. He was already looking down at you, his lips parted in anticipation and his breaths heavier than they were. You licked the tip of his cock again, the salty taste of his precum on your tongue. There’s something about the way that Joel lets a breath out through his teeth that makes you feel like you were set on fire.

You let out a breathy chuckle, wrapping your lips around the head of him and hollowing out your cheeks on your descent toward his lap. It was a lot to take, your eyes watering as you swallowed more of Joel’s cock. His moans and sighs were enough to keep you going, your lips curled over your teeth and your head bobbing up and down.

One of his hands found the curve of your jaw, calloused fingers tracing it before hooking around the back of your head. You were fine with his direction, letting Joel gently press your head down to dictate your speed.

The taste of him was salty and heady, a musk that was distinctly Joel filling your nose as you drooled and sucked his cock. It was slick with your spit, the mix of your saliva and his precum coating your lips and chin. You still had your hand wrapped around the base of him and moving in tandem with your mouth, ensuring you could get everything that your throat couldn’t fit.

“Goddamn, sweetheart, you suck cock like you were made for it,” Joel said, his words punctuated with soft sighs and moans. It made you want to live permanently with his praise, your gaze flicking up to meet Joel’s for a moment.

He was completely blissed out, his head tilted back toward the ceiling as he bit his full lower lip between his teeth. His Adam’s apple kept moving erratically in his throat, like he couldn’t decide whether to breathe or not. His hand still cupped the black of your head, half-thought praises falling frantically from his lips. Joel was barely speaking in sentences, some words falling to the wayside of his soft grunts.

Feeling emboldened, you moved your hand away and tried to relax your jaw as your head descended far enough that your nose was pressed firmly against Joel’s pubic hair. It smelled surprisingly clean, just the undertone of musk clinging to the dark, curly thatch of hair as you resisted the urge to choke around his cock.

It was thick and heavy in your throat as you swallowed around him, eliciting groans and his hand pressing tightly against the back of your head. Tears burned in your eyes as Joel’s thick cock twitched in your throat, your hands spread flat on your thighs as he moaned your praises.

Joel barely thrusted his hips toward your awaiting mouth, your eyes slipped shut so you could focus on relaxing your throat. Lungs burning, you finally pulled off to suck in deep breaths. Your hand resumed what your mouth had been doing moments before, taking Joel in your fist and using your saliva as lubrication.

“Look at how pretty you are,” Joel murmured, his southern accent thicker than normal as the hand on the back of your head shifted to cup your cheek. Your eyes were watery with a few tears tracking down your face, your lips swollen and saliva coating the entirety of your chin.

You smiled, stroking his cock as you struggled to regain your breath. “Didn’t know you were such a good girl,” Joel drawled, dragging his thumb through the saliva on your chin and smearing the pad of it across your parted lips.

“When I want to be.” Your voice was thick and raspy, your eyes partially lidded. Your knees were digging into the carpet, his legs keeping you where you sat.

He smirked at that. Joel gently moved your hand away from his cock, his arms winding beneath your armpits and lifted you back up to the couch. You squealed in the back of your throat, surprised by his strength as he settled you against the arm of the couch and twisted to face you.

Large hands yanked your sweater over your head to reveal the black bra you wore, a soft groan coming from Joel. He didn’t waste time, finding the back closure and popping it open. You helped him, guiding the thin straps down your arms and tossing the garment aside.

“Christ,” Joel mumbled, his thick fingers brushing over one of your nipples. A jolt of electricity traveled down your spine at the touch, warmth blooming on your cheeks.

You were impatient, panties already soaked through and feeling uncomfortable as you popped open the button on your jeans. “Joel, I need you,” you murmured, leaning forward to kiss him as you shimmied your pants and underwear over your hips.

“So impatient,” he muttered between presses of your lips, pulling away so he could look at you properly. The firelight illuminated the curves and shadows that littered your body, stretch marks and scars visible on your skin. Self-consciousness reared its ugly head for a moment, your gaze fluttering away from Joel’s intensity as he just stared at you.

He grabbed your thighs, pulling you toward him until your back hit the couch. “Joel…” you whined as he pressed your thighs apart, his dark eyes focused on your sex.

He spread the slicked lips apart with his thumb, making you cover your face with your hands out of embarrassment. “Look at you…” he mumbled, hardly even talking to you. He let go of your other thigh, his fingertips teasing your clenching hole to gather some of the wetness dripping down you and smearing it across your clit.

You gasped, your back arching at the contact against the nerves. Joel’s fingers were calloused and thick and warm, drawing tight, slow circles over your clit as his other hand pressed into the crease between your inner thigh and your pubic bone. It kept your hips from squirming away from him.

“You’re so sensitive, sweetheart,” Joel said, the smile audible in his voice. You’d kept your hands over your face, your moans muffled by your palms as you resisted the urge to snap your thighs closed. You felt vulnerable and exposed under him.

“You’re teasing,” you mumbled, your hips twitching in an attempt to get more friction from his calloused fingers. He kept his touch agonizingly light, making you whine and whimper in your desperation for more from him. He chuckled, fingers dipping to tease your entrance again before trailing back up to your clit.

“Let me see ya,” Joel said, his hand leaving the nestle of your thigh to wrap around your wrists and pull them away from your face. He held both in one hand, keeping your wrists captive against your sternum.

Your breaths were heavy, his fingers strumming over the swollen bump of your clit pulling moans from your throat. Joel’s eyes were partially lidded as he looked down at you, a smirk growing on his face at your desperate expression. “Joel, please,” you begged, your cunt clenching around empty space as you wished he would just fucking fill you up already.

He chuckled, clicking his tongue against his teeth with mock disapproval. “If you’re so desperate, get up and turn around, sweetheart,” he said, pulling you up by your wrists. “My knees aren’t what they used to be, help an old man out.”

You’d normally take that opportunity to make a joke at his expense, but you just let him move you around like a doll. He guided you so you were kneeling on the couch, your chest pressed against the back of it. You arched your back as much as you could, sticking your ass out and hoping you looked pretty as you looked at Joel over your shoulder. He didn’t even bother getting undressed, just standing up behind you and taking his cock in his hand.

His other hand still rubbed over your cunt, smearing your arousal over your swollen lips and onto your inner thighs. Much to your relief, he pressed two thick fingers inside you. The sensation made you groan, resting your weight on your elbows and your knees as you pushed back against his fingers. They slid in so easy you were almost embarrassed.

“You’ll take me just fine, sweetheart,” Joel murmured, approval echoing in his voice. He crooked his fingers to press and massage the spongy spot inside of you, making your mouth fall open and your legs jerk.

You twisted enough to glare at him, Joel covered in shadow from the fire crackling behind him. “Quit being an asshole, Joel,” you said through your teeth, making him chuckle.

“Where are your manners, sweetheart?” he asked, pulling his fingers from your cunt. He brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a sigh before grabbing your hip with a hand. His wet fingers smeared against your heated skin as he pulled you back a little more, making your back arch like a bow pulled too tight.

He slid the blunt head of his cock between your folds until it tapped against your clit, making him when you whimpered. Joel finally granted you what you wanted, lining up with your entrance and pressing his way in. His cock caught, sliding in so slow that it made you squirm.

“Relax, sweetheart.” Joel’s big hand slid up and down your curved spine, calloused fingers feeling each and every notch of your vertebrae. Your pussy fluttered around him, stretched out and so eager as he bullied his way inside of you. The breath you took in was frantic and overwhelmed, it felt as though he was pushing all of the air out of your body. The two fingers he had pressed inside of you as a test didn’t prepare you at all for his thick cock.

You could hardly breathe, you’d never taken a cock this big inside of you without any preparation–but you were too impatient to wait for him to stretch you out on his fingers. You were pathetic, whining and wheezing as your hands clenched against the cushions on the back of your couch.

You’d never felt anything better in your life.

After what felt like ages, Joel was fully seated inside of you. His coarse jeans were pressed against your soft thighs, the two of you breathing heavily like you’d run a marathon.

“You’ve gotta relax. Feels like you’re gonna squeeze my dick off,” Joel said, slowly grinding his pelvis against the swell of your ass. You nodded, trying to take in deep breaths and get used to the feeling of being stretched full.

“Sorry,” you muttered as you focused on becoming pliant, your taught muscles slowly releasing. His beard rasped against the back of your neck as he kissed you there, a moment of intimacy to calm you down. It felt like a reward, your breaths slowing as you unclenched around Joel and welcomed him deeper.

The sound you made when Joel pulled out and pressed back in was pathetic. It felt like he was sawing you in half, carving a space for his cock inside of you with each thrust. There was some caution to his movements, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he grit his teeth.

“So fucking tight, sweetheart,” Joel said, his voice muffled as his mouth pressed against your neck. Each thrust coaxed a gasp from you, your nails digging into the fabric of the couch as you took whatever Joel is willing to give. Your vision was blurry from the overwhelmed tears brimming your eyes.

The sound of your bodies smacking together filled your living room, the open belt still threaded through Joel’s pants clinking on the off beat. He maintained his pace like a machine, drilling into the gummy spot inside you that made your eyes roll back in your head.

Your nipples were sensitive, rubbing against the coarse fabric of the couch cushions with every thrust. The noises you made were absolutely undignified, the sounds of someone being fucked completely stupid. He was filling you up so perfectly and the knowledge that it was Joel, your hardass patrol partner who never gave affection to anyone, it made you feel like you’d touched a live wire.

“Tell me how it feels, sweetheart,” Joel said, a wide hand reaching around you to fondle your breast. He used it to bring you back, curving your spine so the back of your head was pressed against his collarbone and you looked up at where the wall and ceiling met.

You felt helpless and primal, your mind scattered a million different places. “So good,” you gasped stupidly, hardly able to form words. Your hands grabbed his forearm and fisted in his flannel behind you, an effort to anchor yourself to him.

“I know,” he murmured, kissing the shell of your ear. You were vaguely aware of tears running down your cheeks, your mouth hanging open as you struggled to stay afloat. You were already lost, a sea of sensation pulling you under with only the places where you and Joel were pressed together serving as your lifeline.

Joel’s free hand reached around your belly, finding your neglected clit with practiced ease. You moaned his name like a broken record, your eyebrows furrowing. He rubbed it hard and fast, matching the pace he was rutting into you with. You already felt heat pooling in your lower abdomen.

“Oh god,” you gasped, already shaking from head to toe and your grip tightening around his forearm. “Joel I’m—yes, yes, yes—“

It felt like your whole world shattered as you came with a shout, your muscles convulsing. You clamped around Joel’s cock like a vise, your hips twitching wildly. Pleasure flooded through you from head to toe, warm and fuzzy and all-consuming. The sensation was simultaneously too much and not enough, Joel steadily fucking you through it as your vision went white.

Joel had to pull himself away from you, letting you slump forward on the couch cushion as you came down from your orgasm. You were clenching around nothing, whining at how cruel he was to leave you empty.

The wet, sticky sounds coming from him made you turn your head as you went boneless on the couch. Joel’s cheeks were red as he tugged at his cock, a hand squeezing the flesh of your ass. His dark eyes were focused on you, all loose limbed and spent.

He finally noticed you looking, his mouth open and panting. He took in your fucked out expression, your eyelashes clumped with tears and cheeks red. He’d made a mess of you, the dazed look on your face his undoing as he let out a grunt. He sunk his teeth into his lower lip as he came, spurting thick come over your ass as his fingers dug into you.

You sighed as you felt his hot come land on your ass and back, pooling in the curve of your spine. You were still floaty and out of it, vaguely aware of him milking the last spurts of his spend from his thick cock.

“Jesus,” he grumbled, swaying for a moment before sitting down on the couch next to you. He gathered you in his arms, pulling you onto his lap and against his chest as you went perfectly limp.

You nuzzled against his neck, humming your affection as his hand rubbed up and down your back. The motion smeared his come along your skin, his fingers rubbing it in like body lotion. It was like he’d stuck your brain in a blender, the mush of the aftermath hardly able to form more than feelings as you pressed your forehead against his beard.

“I’ll beat up the whole town if this is the thanks I get,” Joel said, pressing a kiss to your temple. His barrel chest shook beneath you with a chuckle, his hands never straying from your body.

“No one’s gonna want to touch me with a ten-foot pole,” you muttered after a moment of silence, it took you a beat to even process what Joel was saying. He snickered, seeming pleased with himself as you melted deeper into his embrace.

“Good, I should be the only one touching you,” he said, making warmth bloom in your chest. “Unless I’m assuming things.”

You smiled, a sleepy look still on your face as you wound your arms around his neck and snuggled in closer. “So this wasn’t a spur of the moment thing?” you asked, sounding shy as you said it.

Joel chuckled, shaking his head. “You know how many times I had to go home after patrol and take a cold shower just because you bumped my arm or bent over to pick something up? Felt like a damn teenager.”

You giggled, picking your head up to look at Joel properly. He looked so soft and sweet around the edges, that normal fire and flintiness was gone from his dark eyes. “You gonna stay tonight?”

He pulled you in for a kiss, it was sweet and over all too soon. “If you’ll let me,” Joel said, sounding earnest.

You nodded, tucking your head back against his neck. You were starting to succumb to your drowsy state, your eyes sliding shut as you puddled into Joel. You were vaguely aware of him lifting you off the couch, his good-natured grumbling about carrying you up the stairs filling your ears.

[st4ringlow]

Hi do you happen to take a request. If you up for it can I request fratboy atsumu and make it hurt/comfort wheter it's misunderstanding cz you know he is so popular or anything that you like. Love your job btw and you can ignore my request if you are not into it ♡♡♡

a misunderstanding between fratboy!atsumu and fem!reader.

hurt, comfort, vulgar words used.

note: hello! thank you so much for the request. sorry this took long, these weeks has been so busy and i've only got a chance to write it this afternoon. this hits hard while im writing because i experienced the same thing, but instead of reassurance i got dumped lol XD. i hope you enjoy my own interpretation of this prompt.

more fratboy!atsumu here!

dating fratboy!atsumu is wonderful, yet it comes with consequences.

the constant social events, the parties, and being under the scrutiny of his frat brothers can be overwhelming. however, the fear of not being enough for someone as popular as atsumu is your greatest concern. atsumu has a bunch of girls lined up for him, ready to take your place should the relationship end. you feel guilty of thinking this way, because your boyfriend has made it clear how much he loves you. the thought is slowly eating you up, and how bad it affects your emotions lately. you'd be so sensitive, which causes you to lash out on him for small or no reason at all, but you're grateful of how atsumu never once gets mad, instead offering reassurance you needed.

the atmosphere is vibrant with the crowd at the party, the sound of loud music, and an array of drinks and food spread out on a large table. you hadn't intended to go to a frat party with atsumu tonight, but you find yourself here regardless because it's suna's event. suna has always been nothing but kind to you, and you get along with him well, so it would feel rude not to attend tonight.

atsumu had left you on your own, engaging in conversation with his friends somewhere. as you mingle with familiar faces, trying to shake off the doubts in your mind, you catch a glimpse of atsumu across the room. he's talking to a girl, one you dont recognize. your stomach turns as you watch her, admiring her beautiful features and you suddenly feel ugly having her presence near you. not to say how sexy she looks, casually slaying any style that she wears. she's standing close to him, her body language open and flirty. she laughs at something he says, placing a hand lightly on his arm. atsumu smiles back at her, seemingly enjoying the conversation. the sight sends a jolt of jealousy through you. your heart was aching, so you decided to step outside to feel some fresh air. as you make your way to the door, you hear a couple of atsumu's frat brothers talking nearby.

"man, atsumu's only with her because she's safe. she's not like other girls, you get what i mean?"

"yeah, i give it a month before he gets bored and moves on. probably after he fucked her first, heard that she's a virgin," one of them said, earning chuckles from his peers.

"dude you seen the girl atsumu's talking to? man she's hot as hell, i bet he gets his cock wet with her instead of his girlfriend,"

the words sting, like salt on an open wound. you feel tears welling up in your eyes as you quickly leave the party. the fresh air outside does little to soothe the ache in your chest. you walk home, with every step feeling heavier than the one before, hurt and confusion swirl through your mind. you didnt care about atsumu who's still at the party, he can go have fun with his 'new girl'.

it wasn't long before atsumu came looking for you, only to realize that you had already left. "dunno dude, but i saw her crying when she got out of the house, i didnt ask because i thought you two had an argument or something," said a guy from atsumu's fraternity. what did he do? he thinks. not before his twin started asking the same thing, and he swore he felt like his life is on the line. "what the heck did ya do?" osamu's tone is mad, and he's second away from grabbing atsumu's collar and bash his head into the wall. "i dont know! i was just talking to midori and- " his eyes widen, finally realizing the reason why before smacking his head into his palm repeatedly. suna shakes his head. "better go now man, dont wanna mess up this one, yeah?" suna advised, patting on atsumu's shoulder before the blonde dashes outside and drove off.

atsumu's texts and calls remained unanswered. you activated do-not-disturb mode, silencing any notifications and calls from your boyfriend. your feet ached from the lengthy walk, and you regretted the impulsive decision you made earlier. suddenly, a honk startled you, and you turned to see a familiar vehicle—atsumu's car—slowing down to match your walking pace. despite this, your pride was unwavering, and you quickened your steps. atsumu's voice, calling out your name in an attempt to halt your progress, was audible.

"(y/n), baby! come on now!" he pleaded, but you continued to ignore him. striving to walk faster, the discomfort in your feet intensified. then, the sound of his car door closing followed by the approaching footsteps indicated he was coming after you.

"babe! c'mon, listen ta me," he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. you kept walking, your emotions a whirlwind of hurt and confusion. finally, atsumu caught up to you, gently grabbing your arm to stop you. "please," he said, his voice softer now, "just let me explain,"

you stop, reluctantly turning to face him. his eyes were filled with worry and regret. "im sorry, m'kay? i didnt mean to make you feel that way," he began, his voice cracking slightly. "im sorry baby, midori is an old friend, and we have nothing going on, whether its in the past or now, we never had anything together,"

you looked away, the pain still fresh in your heart as you recalls those hurtful words you heard. "your frat brothers, they said some hurtful things. they said how you're only with me because im safe, and you're going to leave me right after you take away my virginity. and, how you're probably fucking with her behind my back,". you were choking back tears, overwhelmed by a wave of pain and guilt. "i feel worse, tsumu. i hate how i feel like im in a competition with all the pretty girls waiting for you to break it off with me, and- , and how im afraid im not enough with you, and you will leave me because you realized im not what you wanted,"

atsumu's grip on your arm tightened slightly, his eyes pleading for you to understand. he'll deal with those assholes later, right now his only concern is you. "fuck, 'm so sorry, sweetheart, im sorry," he said. tears welled up in your eyes. seeing your struggle, atsumu pulls you into a gentle embrace, his warmth offering a sense of comfort amidst the turmoil. "that's not true at all, my love for ya is genuine, those guys dont know shit about me, fuck," atsumu said, his tone filled with desperation and a slight anger. "yer perfect fer me, i fucking love ya so much. yer always be more than enough for me baby, so fucking gorgeous, perfect in every way, dont doubt it alright?" he confessed, feeling his eyes burning with tears.

"im so sorry. i should have noticed how ya were feeling," he murmured into your hair. "im here now, 'm not goin' anywhere. we'll get through this, i promise,"

you finally relax yourself in his arms, the hurt slowly beginning to fade. the raw honesty and vulnerability in his voice reassured you, and you felt a glimmer of hope.

the drive home was slow and filled with more heartfelt conversation. atsumu held your hand the entire time, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand as he reassured you of his love and commitment. by the time you reached home, you felt lighter, the misunderstanding serving as a catalyst for a deeper connection and renewed trust.

[httpknjoon]

from your point of view | myg

plot | that time bassist!yoongi thinks popstar!yn is not that versatile when performing her songs. (alternative: that time bassist!yoongi made popstar!yn cry— unintentionally!)

w.c | 2476

pairing | bass guitarist!yoongi x popstar!reader

genre | fluff, angst, enemies to lovers

note | thank you to @seolaquotes for sending this one! hope u like it <3

main masterlist | want to request?

DAY 60 of Love Is... On Tour

"Okay, you all can take your breaks. Just come back before three."

As soon as Art concluded the rehearsals, everyone began leaving the arena. The dancers chat while picking up their bags. You were talking with Art about the setlist while you two walked away. Yoongi was just removing the guitar over his head when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Noah found a place with the best beer five minutes away. Do you want to come?" Fred asked while the others waited for his reply.

Yoongi looked at his guitar, scratching the back of his head. "There's something wrong with my guitar. Send me the location, and I'll catch up later."

The other members nodded and said their goodbyes. Alone, Yoongi just sat on the stage floor to tune it. The issue has been bugging him since the rehearsals began, causing him to have errors and delays that made you give him an obvious side-eye in almost every song.

"There it is..." Yoongi whisphered to himself as begun turning the pegs.

Listening carefully to the tune of his guitar, he did not even notice you walking back on the stage. You were planning to rehearse some of your songs alone, so you decided to come back after getting another bottle of water for yourself. You were quietly scrolling down on your phone when you noticed him sitting on a corner of the stage, alone with his guitar. You raised an eyebrow.

"You're still here?" You asked since you saw the others leaving together. Fred even invited her to go with them to the pub near the concert venue.

"Have to tune my guitar." Yoongi replied, not even looking up at you.

It has been a week since that night you two had an intense staring contest. Yoongi really followed what Art told him. He never looked directly at you before, during, and even after the rehearsals again. You don't know if he's a good follower or just sarcastically playing with you. But either way, it's getting to your nerves.

You didn't say anything anymore. Instead, you sat in front of him and stared like you were waiting for him to do something. He stopped for a second.

As soon as he realized that you decided to watch him, he clicked his tongue, "Uhm, what are you doing?"

"Nothing," you replied with a cheeky grin even though he won't look at you. By your coy reply, Yoongi can immediately imagine that you were smiling when you said that.

Your plans of rehearsing alone are now tossed aside and you make it a challenge for yourself to make your least favorite band member meet your eyes. You don't know why, but out of every staff and crew member who works here, Yoongi is the only one you don't really get along with. Was it the ugly first meeting? Or the uglier first impressions that lasted until now? Maybe it is something deeper. Who knows? You don't. But for now, you know that you like getting a reaction out of his usual blank expression.

"So, this is your first world tour?" you asked, internally determined to break him while he's busy.

"Yes," he replied, still turning the pegs in his guitar.

"But you worked with Harry before, right? Why didn't you join his band then?"

When you were looking for a replacement for your past band, Art endorsed Yoongi with the mention that he worked with Harry Styles on his first and second albums. Other than playing for him, he also produced and wrote a few songs with him. But, he didn't join Harry's two-year world tour that just ended months ago. Since Art seemed to really like him, you just agreed to take him for your band and never knew any more about his back story.

"My fiancee didn't want long-distance relationship," he answered like he didn't just say something of a big deal.

Your eyebrows raised, "You're getting married?!"

Instead of an answer, there was a long silence between you two. Suddenly, you feel a strange tension entering the stage. Yet, Yoongi has not laid his eyes on you. Instead, a heavy sigh comes out of his lips.

"Why are you here? It's break time."

You cleared your throat, tucking a hair strand behind your ear, "I wanted to rehearse alone."

"Is me fixing my guitar here will bother your activity?" he asked, looking at your fingers drumming on the ground.

You noticed that and decided to stop your tapping fingers. Testing, you laid your hand to your lap, feeling your cotton sweatpants. His eyes followed.

"Not really." you smirked when his eyes followed your fingers running through your hair. then, you snapped your fingers in front of your face. "Finally!"

"What?" his forehead creased.

"You looked at me. We've been talking for ten minutes and you won't just look at me," you explained.

"I thought you don't want anyone looking at you." he reminded you.

"...Not anyone." you tried correcting him.

It was his turn to smirk when he replied, "If that rule was just for me, then why are you putting too much effort to make me look at you right now?"

It was like your brain stopped for a moment. You cannot process any answer to that. Why do you even like annoying him? Or getting a reaction out of him? Are you that pressed about him? Why do you even want him to look—

"YN, here's the second setlist!"

Art! Thank goodness, Art showed up! You scramble to get up to meet your tour manager who was stepping on the edge of the stage. Cal was behind him since you asked her before to watch your new song choices for later. You see one of her brows raised when she noticed Yoongi on stage. She eyed him and you like she was making up something in her head.

"Oh, Yoongi, you're here?" Art asked him.

He nods, "Yep, had to fix something with this thing."

"Great! YN changed up some of the songs in the setlist. Maybe you can try playing it while she rehearse?" He asked.

You wanted to protest, not wanting to spend more time with him since you blacked out when he confronted you just a minute ago. But before you can even say something, Yoongi already nodded his head and began strumming his now-fixed guitar.

"Sure."

You had three songs changed in your setlist. It's not unusual as you always do it almost every week, wanting to surprise your fans every once in a while. For tonight, you put your famous less energentic love songs on the list.

"Is that okay?" you asked after singing the last one.

Art nods, giving you a thumbs up. Cal agreed even though it looked like she hesitated for a second. Since Yoongi is in the room too, you looked at him for any comments.

"I don't know. It kinda feels like you are zoning out when you're performing your less lively songs." He shrugged, removing his guitar on his lap and placing on its stand.

"Excuse me?" Your nostrils flared, Yoongi noticed.

"Like for instance, POV. The song is beautiful, the lyrics is really sincere. But I cannot feel anything from you every time you sing it." He explained. "It's like you were just trying to get over it so you can move on to your next songs."

Your throat tightened like it's hard to speak. Was he wrong? He's not. And you hate it. When you are singing the songs you wrote based on a relationship that eventually ended with infidelity, of course, you will find yourself dissociating. Most of your love songs were written about Theo, your ex-boyfriend -slash-ex-bassist, and everyone knows it. As much as you love those songs, you hate who it was associated with and sometimes you just want to space out rather than think of him while singing it.

You hate that Yoongi sees right through you.

You placed a hand on your hip. "And what do you know about performing?"

"You know that I'm a producer too, right?"

A lopsided smile was on his face when he said that. Hating how nonchalant he was, you rolled your eyes.

"Anyway, I'll go. I'll catch up with the others at the pub," he said, not even giving you a chance to bite back.

Out of curiosity, while you were still in your free time hours before the concert, you began looking up your performances online. You don't really watch a lot of videos of yourself online since you feel too vain in doing so. Plus, being a perfectionist, you will just end up pointing out the things you should have and have not done while watching those clips.

But you needed to confirm your bass guitarist's comments about you. So, you downloaded TikTok and opened your burner account. You quickly typed in your name on the search bar and scrolled down to find videos of you from your current tour. That is how you came across a compilation made by your fan, titled:

✨YN dissociating for three minutes straight✨

What the fuck?!

"Was it really that obvious when I'm singing those songs?" You asked, looking at Cal through the mirror.

It's been a couple of hours since you watched those videos. You are now sat in the make-up chair, wearing your bedazzled bodysuit, prepping up to perform in a few minutes.

"What?" Cal asked since she was busy fixing up your schedule for the next few days.

"That I'm spacing out?" you spoke quietly before chewing on your lips.

Your assistant noticed you being affected by what Yoongi said since he left for the pub. She saw you watching videos online, which she thought added more self-doubt. But she knew that you always wanted real and honest answers.

"In all honesty, honey, there are times I feel like you were slipping out."

You nodded at that, appreciating her honest comment.

"Faye?" You called your hair and makeup artist's attention, asking for her opinion.

She nods, agreeing with Cal, but you can read the sympathy in her eyes, "But your voice is great—"

"It's just the emotions, it's gone." you ended the sentence for her.

You looked down while your assistant and HMUA looked at each other. Maybe you really need to tap into those emotions again. It wouldn't be that bad, right?

"It's like you got superpowers, turn my minutes into hours..."

Yoongi watched from the band's spot on stage as you performed the song he criticized earlier. Thinking about that make his stomach sinks. He wondered if he said too much. You avoided eye contact with him when they returned for the last rehearsal earlier when they got back from the pub. You spoke quietly and was sighing a lot like you were frustrated. The guilt sits heavily on his chest.

"You know me better than I do, can't seem to keep nothing from you..."

Now in a sparkly, silver long gown, Yoongi's comments replayed in your head. You want to prove him wrong, so you begin looking back at the time you wrote the song. You let your fingers play with the mic stand in front of you while you sing.

"I wanna love me, the way that you love me..."

There he is. Theo. His face flashed in your head and everything you've done together in the last four years. Suddenly, you were transported at the time you two were alone in the studio. He was sleeping on the couch because you promised you two would go home after writing one more song.

"I wanna trust me, the way that you trust me..."

You were sparkling while your fans turned on their camera flashes. Yoongi observed you. Tonight was definitely different. Your voice felt fragile, like you were about to break at any moment.

"You love my lips 'cause they say the things we've always been afraid of..."

A knot tightens in your throat. You held on to the stand before you, trying to find stability. You felt your heart beating faster while reliving the good times of your past relationship. Then, you remember the first headline you read the day you decided to end it all.

"I couldn't believe it or see it for myself. Boy, I be impatient, but now I'm out here..."

Your voice shakes. The whole arena was quiet but the shared sympathy for you was obvious. Everyone knows how your relationship went as the break-up was highly publicized during the first week of your tour. Yoongi watched you remove your mic from the stand and begin sitting in the middle of center stage with the spotlight focused on you.

"And if my eyes deceive me, won't let them stray too far away..."

The song originally don't have any bass guitar in it, but you were losing it. So you turned your head down, letting the tears fall down. Yoongi notoced you raising your fingers. You rubbed your thumb and index finger together before drawing two checkmarks like you're strumming a guitar.

He instantly picked up and began playing his guitar, in tune with the instrumental of the emotional song. Earlier, you asked to put a short instrumental between the bridge and the last chorus since you wanted to enjoy the surprise song. The fans cheered as the bass guitar added a new vibe to the emotional song.

"I wanna love me, the way that you love me..."

The fans began singing back to you. You close your eyes, and a small smile forms on your lips. Your ears are filled with their voices. Everyone watched as you softly swayed to the song. You even removed your in-ear to hear their singing fully. Your heart slowly warms up, sending peace into your system.

"I wanna trust me, the way that you trust me, baby..."

You began singing again, walking on each corner of the stage to be closer to your fans. You point to them before putting the same hand on your chest as you continue,

"'Cause nobody ever loved me like you do, I'd love to see me from your point of view..."

The next day. It was only two-thirty in the morning and you were getting ready to leave your hotel room to leave for another state, when you heard a couple of knocks on your door.

"Just come in, Cal!" you said.

But you didn't hear the door open. So, you got up from your bed and opened it yourself. That's when you spotted a Milwaukee souvenir notebook on the carpeted ground. You picked it up when you saw a written note on paper taped on its cover.

sorry, didn't mean to make you cry. write more beautiful songs of urs.

ps. can't find any other notebooks here in the hotel. sorry 4 that 2

note | holiday themed drabbles coming up soon

SERIES TAGLIST

@busanbby-jjk @jimingirl95

PERMANENT TAGLIST (CLOSED)

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21 @marblemoonstones

[itneverendshere]

Dang. I so bad want to see a sweet reader in a toxic relationship with the drug leader of a gang. And that said gang has a feud with another one. Rafe’s and he is the leader of that gang. And despite being a criminal, Rafe has some honor and would never treat a girl badly. And there is lingering tension from a distance of Rafe being all ’’I could treat you better’’ and wanting to help her get out of that relationship while she thinks that all guys must be just like her boyfriend, so she has not thought further about Rafe beyond that he is attractive.

okay so this turned out a lil different and i feel like i'd have to write another part to develop their relationship and the longing....so...

two birds, one stone - r.c (+18)

pairing: drugdealer!rafe x sweet!reader warnings: domestic violence; mentions of drugs and drug dealing; word count: 4.7k

You stood at the edge of the dock, the wooden planks creaking under your beat up shoes as you nervously glanced at the group of men clustered by the boats. 

Caleb, your boyfriend, had dragged you here without warning, his mood volatile as ever. You’d tried to avoid his attention when he’d pulled up outside the rundown house you’d been staying in the cut, but he’d simply sneered, ordering you into the car without a word.

Now, as you watched him move through the crowd of his men, you felt like jumping into the water was a much better option. He was dangerous on a good day, but when he was in one of his moods, it was like walking on a knife’s edge. And tonight, that edge felt particularly sharp. Drowning in the sea felt much more forgiving than being at the mercy of his hands. 

He was deep in conversation with Barry, one of his most trusted dealers, his posture tense as always, and his tone clipped. Barry also had a reputation for being as ruthless as they came when he wanted to, and the fact that Caleb was speaking to him in such hushed tones only made you want to get the hell away from this place. You knew better than to ask questions, though; Caleb didn’t tolerate curiosity, especially from you. 

Your eyes drifted across the dock, taking in the faces of the other men—rough, hardened, with the kind of dead eyes that came from too many years in the game. But then you landed on someone who didn’t quite fit the mold. Someone you hadn’t seen in years.

Rafe Cameron.

He was leaning against a stack of crates, his sharp blue eyes watching the scene with an unsettling intensity. The heir to the Cameron fortune, he was the last guy you expected to see here, in the heart of Caleb’s operation. But the rumors had been swirling for months—Rafe had gone off the deep end, running drugs and getting involved with people like your boyfriend. It was a far cry from the pampered Kook prince he’d once been, and the transformation was as terrifying as it was tragic. 

His eyes flicked over to you, and you hated every second of it, your skin prickling as if he could see right through you—the forced indifference, the carefully crafted apathy that kept you safe. 

He didn’t know you, not really. You were just another face in a town too small for secrets, a girl tied up in something ugly. The most you'd ever shared was a passing glance or a half-hearted smile at some party years ago, still in your teen years.

You knew of him, of course—who didn’t? The Cameron name carried weight, even when it was whispered behind closed doors.

“Come here,” Caleb’s voice snapped you out of your starting, and you flinched, quickly turning away as you moved toward your boyfriend, hoping the hadn’t noticed you ogling another man. 

The word boyfriend felt wrong, too soft for what Caleb really was to you. He was more like a personal nightmare than a partner, and the bruises hidden beneath your clothes were proof enough of that.

He grabbed your arm, pulling you close to him as he continued his conversation with Barry as you tried not too wince. God forbid he saw you whining. His fingers dug into your skin even harder, and you bit your lip to keep from crying out. He liked to do this in front of his men—show them that he was in control, that you were his and his alone. It was all about power with him and you’d learned the hard way not to resist.

“Keep an eye on her,” he muttered to Barry before turning his attention back to you, his grip tightening. “Stay here, and don’t move. I’ve got business to take care of.”

You nodded obediently, not trusting yourself to speak. Everything made Caleb tick when he was in this mood. The last thing you wanted was to provoke him. But as he stepped away, Barry’s eyes followed him, and you couldn’t help but feel like someone was watching you, again.

As if on cue, Rafe pushed off the crates and sauntered over to where you stood, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. As if he didn’t know men like Caleb would kill girls like you if they breathed the same air as other men.

He still looked the same, maybe a little bit older but he still carried that same detached arrogance. 

“You look like you’re in a real bad spot, princess,” Rafe drawled, his smooth voice setting your nerves on fire. He tilted his head slightly, watching you as if trying to figure out what you were doing here, tangled up in something so beneath someone like you.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, hoping he’d just lose interest and walk away. You didn’t want to be on anyone’s radar tonight, especially not his. Especially not when Caleb was only a few steps away, talking to a man known for leaving bodies in the marsh when deals went south.

But Rafe didn’t move. 

Instead, he stepped closer, leaning just close enough that you could smell the faint scent of smoke on him. 

“I’ve seen girls like you before,” he said, his voice lower now, “Think you can handle a guy like him? You’re playing with fire, sweetheart.”

If he only knew. Even after being tangled up with the worst kind of people, there was still a sort of naivety to him. You knew he was never the kind of guy to settle down, be in a relationship, so how could he ever possibly understand that you weren’t here because you wanted to? You were because you had to. Because you’d been stupid enough to fall for Caleb’s shit and crazy enough to let your parents kick you out.

There was no way out. There was no help. No one. 

 “I’m not playing,” you shot back, you needed him to back off, to stop poking at wounds that were already there. His eyes narrowed slightly, catching the edge in your voice, but he didn’t retreat. If anything, he seemed more intrigued.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, his gaze flicking briefly to where Caleb stood.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you muttered, turning your face away. If Caleb saw this, saw you talking to someone he didn’t approve of, especially Rafe, you knew there’d be hell to pay later. But he wasn’t making it easy. He was still standing there, too close.

You lifted your hand, fixing the annoying pieces of hair that kept clinging to your face in the heat. It took you less than a second, but it was enough for your shirt to ride up the slightest. His eyes flickered down, following the fast movement, and that was all it took for him to see. To notice. The bruises on your stomach.

“What the hell happened to you?” His voice was low, almost felt dangerous in a way that was different from Caleb's. There was no threat in it. Not to you.

You instinctively crossed your arms over your stomach, trying to cover the bruises, but it was too late. He’d already seen them.

“I said I’m fine,” your voice trembled despite your efforts to sound strong. You looked away, unable to meet his eyes, afraid of what you might see there—pity, disgust, maybe even understanding. 

But he didn’t back off. He took another step closer, his hand reaching out like he wanted to touch you, to see if they were real. But he stopped himself.

“How long’s he been doing this to you?”

You bit your lip. The last thing you needed was to cry in front of him, or worse, in front of Caleb. You couldn’t afford to show weakness. Not here. Not now.

“It’s none of your business,” you gritted out, hoping that would be enough to make him stop asking questions. But he just shook his head.

“You need to get out of here,” he said, “You can’t keep letting him do this to you.”

No one had ever talked to you like this, like you were worth saving, like you deserved better. But it also terrified you. Because the truth was, you didn’t see a way out. Not without making everything worse.

Before you could respond, Caleb showed up, barking away, “What the fuck are you two talking about?”

You flinched, immediately stepping back from Rafe as Caleb stormed over, his eyes flashing with suspicion. 

“Just meeting the missus, calm the fuck down.”

"Is that right?" Caleb sneered, his voice dripping with venom. He grabbed your arm roughly, yanking you closer to him as if to reassert his claim on you. The pain shot through your arm, but you bit down on your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction, “She doesn’t look like she’s in the mood to talk to anyone, Cameron, does she?” He hissed, his grip tightening until you felt your skin bruising beneath his fingers. “So why don’t you back off before I make you?”

Caleb was unpredictable, and you knew how easily he could lose control. If Rafe pushed him any further, it could get ugly fast.

But Rafe didn’t back down. He held Caleb’s glare with a chilling calmness that made your stomach twist. It was like he was daring Caleb to make a move, to see what would happen. You had to do something, anything.

“Caleb, it’s nothing,” you blurted out, forcing yourself to sound calm even though you were shaking inside. “He was just saying hi. That’s all.”

He didn’t look convinced, but his brown eyes flicked back to you, his grip loosening slightly. “You better not be lying to me,” he warned, his voice carrying a promising threat you were all too familiar with.

“I’m not,” you promised, “Please, let’s just go.”

He turned back to Rafe,  “Stay the fuck away from her, Cameron,” He spat, his voice laced with threat. “Or you’ll regret it.”

Rafe didn’t snap back, but you could see the tension in his posture, the way his muscles tensed as if ready to jump into action at any moment. You knew he got into fights daily back when he was younger, you just hoped he knew better now.

“Come on,” Caleb growled, pulling you away from Rafe, his grip still painfully tight. 

You followed him, your heart pounding in your chest, praying that Rafe wouldn’t do something reckless. You were tired of getting caught up in the crossfire between men’s ego’s. 

As he dragged you away, back to your personal hell, you risked a glance back at Rafe. He was still standing there, watching you, it made your skin crawl. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but you knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

And that terrified you more than anything else.

Rafe watched you leave, every instinct screamed at him to rip you away from that piece of shit and deal with the fallout later, but he knew better. He’d seen how this played out too many times before, in his own house, behind closed doors where no one was watching. He didn’t know why he cared. He shouldn’t care. You weren’t his problem, and Caleb was the kind of guy who didn’t let go of what he thought was his.

But as that piece of shit dragged you down the dock, his mind drifted back to his mother. He could still remember the bruises she used to try to hide, the way she’d flinch when Ward’s voice got too loud, too sharp. And he could remember the times when his dad’s rage wasn’t directed at her but at him. Because Rafe looked too much like her, Ward Cameron had a twisted way of showing his grief when she passed away. 

His dad had been the same as Caleb—charming on the outside, maybe for the first months, but vicious once he got behind closed doors. He had learned from an early age that there was no escape, no safe place to hide. He’d spent his whole life trying to be good enough, strong enough, but it never mattered. In the end, he was just a punching bag, a constant reminder of everything his dad had lost when his mom passed. Even if Ward never had her in the first place. 

Seeing you with those same bruises, that same haunted look in your eyes, it did something to him. He had promised himself, despite everything he did, he’d never lay hands on a woman. He wasn’t the type to get involved in other people’s problems—hell, he had enough of his own. But this was different, it felt all too familiar, a little too close to home. 

The way you tried to pretend everything was okay, how you tried to act like those bruises weren’t killing you day by day. He’d seen his mom do the same thing, day after day, pretending like the world wasn’t falling around her. He’d seen it in the mirror, too, in the years after she died, when he’d become his dad’s favorite target.

And that look in your eyes, the one that said you’d given up on anyone helping you, that you had accepted your fate—it pissed him off more than anything. Because he’d seen that look before, too. He’d worn it himself for years. But no one had come to save him, no one had pulled him out before he fell too deep. He’d had to claw his way out on his own, and even now, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever really made it.

He knew he was a shitty person, a drug dealer who’d fucked up more lives than he could count. But seeing you with Caleb, it felt personal. Like something in him was telling him he couldn’t walk away from this. That if he did, he’d be just as bad as his old man.

Rafe’s jaw tightened as he watched Caleb shove you into his car, barking orders at the men around him like he was some kind of kingpin. The way you shrank back, trying to disappear into yourself, made his stomach turn. He couldn’t stand seeing all of it. Not again.

He wasn’t going to let you end up like his mom. Not if he could help it.

Three days later, you found yourself back in town. You didn’t want to be out, not like this. But Caleb had sent you on an errand, yelling at you to get it done fast or face the consequences. You knew better.

Your arms ached as you held the grocery bag close, the weight of it pulling at the fresh bruises that painted your skin in painful hues of blue and purple. The collar of your shirt was pulled up high, hiding the dark marks on your neck, but nothing could stop the constant reminder of Caleb’s temper. Or the lack of it.

You kept your head down, hoping to get in and out of the store without anyone noticing you. The last thing you needed was to run into someone you knew, not that you still had any friends by this point. But still.

As you rounded the corner, you nearly collided with someone—tall, solid, and all too familiar. You looked up, startled, and found yourself staring into Rafe’s blue eyes.

He didn’t speak right away, scanning you it with the same intensity that made you want to run for you life. You quickly looked away, but not before he saw the discoloration peeking out from under your collar.

“Hey,” he said, his voice rough, but not unkind. It was the first time in days that someone had spoken to you without anger or disgust.

“Rafe,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady, but it came out shaky. “I—I’m just—”

“Running errands for that asshole?” he cut in. His eyes flicked to the bag in your arms, noting how you winced when you shifted its weight.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears that you’d been wanting to spill for the past twenty-four hours. You didn’t want to cry in front of him, didn’t want him to see just how broken you were. 

“Let me see,” he demanded, his tone softer this time, but it made it clear he wasn’t asking.

“No.”

“Please.”

You didn’t think guys like him ever used that word. It felt foreign hearing it fall from his lips.

You hesitated, instinctively trying to make yourself look smaller, but the look in his eyes, the same fucking determination, made you realize there was no point in hiding it. Not from him. Not when he already knew.

Slowly, you pulled the collar of your shirt down, just enough to reveal the bruises on your neck, the ugly marks left by your boyfriend’s fingers. His eyes darkened, black consuming the blue, and his jaw tightened as he took in the sight. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, but you could feel the anger radiating off him, barely contained.

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, fingertips itching to grab his gun and shove it down Caleb’s throat.

You weren’t used to anyone caring, let alone someone like him, and it made you want to run away even more.

“I told you, it’s none of your business,” you said, your voice coming out more defensive than you intended.

You were scared—scared of Caleb, scared of Rafe, and scared of what might happen if the two ever collided. The last thing you wanted was to drag him into your mess, no matter how much his concern awoke something in you that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Y’think I’m just gonna let you walk away like this?” Rafe’s voice was low, almost a growl, and he stepped closer. You could feel the warmth radiating off him, his fists clenched at his sides as if he was barely holding himself back from storming over to Caleb and finishing this for good.

“Rafe, please,” you whispered, your voice cracking as the tears you’d been holding back almost spilled over. “You don’t understand. He’ll kill me.”

“I’ll kill him first. I’m not afraid of him princess,” he said, and you believed him.

But that wasn’t the point. You were afraid, and that fear kept you trapped in a cycle you didn’t know how to break.

“Maybe you should be,” you muttered, trying to step around him, but he didn’t let you go that easily. His hand shot out, grabbing your arm—not rough like Caleb’s grip, but firm enough to stop you. 

“Listen—"

“I don’t need your help,” you lied, hating the way your voice wavered. You wanted to believe you could handle it on your own, but the truth was, you couldn't.

Rafe’s grip on your arm loosened, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek before you could stop it. You quickly wiped it away, cursing yourself for showing weakness in front of him. But Rafe didn’t say anything. He just watched you.

“I need to go.”

You couldn’t stay here any longer, couldn’t let yourself believe that someone like Rafe Cameron could actually care about someone like you.

But as you turned to leave, he called after you,  “I meant what I said.”

That night, as you lay in bed, bruises still aching, you couldn’t stop thinking about Rafe. About the way he looked at you, as if you were worth something, as if you weren’t just another broken girl in a world full of them. You wanted to believe him, but believing meant hoping, and hoping had only ever gotten you hurt. Still, the idea that someone—anyone—might care enough to try to help you was getting harder and harder to ignore.

Caleb was still out, probably meeting with Barry or some of the other guys, but you knew it was only a matter of time before he came back. And when he did, you had to be ready—ready to play the role he expected, ready to keep him calm. Ready to survive another night. You could feel your heart beating in your chest, the fear coiling tighter with every second. 

Caleb would be back soon. And if he found out about your encounter with Rafe...You swallowed hard, the taste of bile rising in your throat. You couldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t let him  find out.

What if Rafe really could help you? What if there was a way out of this nightmare?

The bedroom door creaked open suddenly. You sat up instantly as Caleb stepped into the room, his eyes were bloodshot, and you could smell the alcohol on him even from across the room.

“Where the hell were you today?” he demanded, his voice slurred. You knew better than to lie, but the truth was just as dangerous.

“I was running the errands you asked me to,” you replied carefully, “I went to the store and came straight back. I swear.”

He stared at you, his eyes narrowing as if trying to decide whether or not to believe you. “You better not be lying to me,” he muttered, stumbling slightly as he moved toward you. “You know what happens when you lie.”

“I’m not lying,” you insisted, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. “I did everything you asked.”

He stood over you now, his shadow falling across your bed like a dark omen. You braced yourself for what was coming, but instead of hitting you, he just stared down at you. 

“You think I’m stupid?” he hissed suddenly, his hand lashing out to grab your wrist. The pain was immediate, but you bit down on your lip, refusing to cry out. “I know when you’re hiding something.”

“I’m not—” you started, but he cut you off, his grip tightening until you could feel the bones in your wrist grinding together.

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” he roared, shaking you violently. “I know you were talking to someone. Who was it? Was it one of those Kook pricks? Were you flirting with them? Like the slut you are?”

The fear turned to cold dread as you realized he must have heard something about your run-in with Rafe. If he knew you’d been talking to him, there was no telling what he might do.

“No,” you lied quickly, desperation crawling up your throat, “I wasn’t talking to anyone. I swear, Caleb, it was just me.”

He stared at you for a long second, his eyes boring into yours but then his expression gave away into something ugly, something feral, and before you could react, his fist came down hard, striking you across the face.

The impact sent you sprawling back onto the bed, stars exploding in your vision as pain radiated through your skull. You tasted blood in your mouth, your lip split from the force of the blow, but you didn’t have time to recover before he was on you again, his hands around your throat.

“I’ll fucking kill you if I ever catch you with another man,” he snarled, his grip tightening until you couldn’t breathe. “Do you hear me? You’re mine, and I’ll fucking kill you before I let you go.”

You clawed at his hands, panic taking over you as your vision started to blur. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and the world was fading to black around the edges. But just as you thought it was over, he released you, shoving you away as if you were nothing more than a piece of trash.

You gasped for air, coughing and choking as you scrambled to get away from him, but he just laughed, a cold, heartless sound that made your blood run cold. You hated him.

“Don’t forget who you belong to,” he sneered, turning away as if you were no longer worth his attention. “Next time, you won’t be so lucky.”

He staggered out of the room, slamming the door behind him, and you collapsed onto the bed, your body shaking with sobs you couldn’t hold back any longer.

Maybe you didn’t have to do this alone.

The next morning, when the sun rose and Caleb was passed out in a drunken stupor, you made a decision. You couldn’t keep living like this. And if there was even a chance that Rafe could help you, you had to take it.

Rafe wasn’t a stranger to darkness. He’d lived with it, fought against it, and at times, even embraced it. But seeing that same darkness reflected in your eyes had fucked him up in a way he wasn’t prepared for. He wasn’t sure if you’d believe him, if you’d actually reach out. But damn, he hoped you would. Rafe was about to head downstairs, maybe grab a drink to take the edge off, when he heard the faint sound of footsteps outside. It was late—too late for anyone to be dropping by Tannyhill unannounced. His curiosity piqued, he moved toward the window, peering out into the dim light of the porch.

And then he saw you.

You stood there, looking lost and broken, your shoulders hunched. Even from this distance, he could see the bruises on your face, the way you were holding yourself like every movement caused you pain. Without thinking, he moved toward the door, his pulse quickening. He wasn’t sure what had happened since he last saw you, but he knew it was bad. And more than anything, he knew that you needed him right now.

He reached the door just as the bell echoed through the stillness of the house. For a moment, he stood there, hand resting on the doorknob, trying to calm himself down. He could feel the tension radiating from you, even from the other side of the door, sensing the desperation in the way you leaned slightly forward, as if fearing the door might never open.

Rafe inhaled deeply before turning the knob, his heart racing as he faced you. The soft light from the porch cast gentle shadows across your face, accentuating the fresh bruises and tear-streaked cheeks. You stared at him for a moment, your eyes wide and glassy, and he could see the way your lower lip trembled as you tried to hold back more tears. He hadn’t felt such an incredible need to protect someone in years. He didn’t need to ask what happened—he could guess. And the thought of someone hurting you, making you feel like this, made him want to turn this whole town upside down. 

But for now, you didn’t need his anger —you needed help, comfort. You needed him to be there for you.

“Help me,” you whispered, your voice so soft and broken that it almost undid him right there. “Please.”

Rafe didn’t hesitate. He reached out, his hands gentler than they’ve ever been as he pulled you inside, closing the door behind you. You were shaking, your whole body trembling like a leaf as if you were about to fall apart, and he could feel the tears soaking through his polo as you collapsed against him.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly, feeling the way your body shook with heart-wrenching sobs. He just held you, letting you cry it out, his hand gently stroking your hair as he tried to soothe you.

“It’s okay,” he murmured eventually, his voice a low murmur though he wasn’t sure if he was saying it for your benefit or his own. “You’re safe here. I’ve got you.”

He wasn’t going to let anyone hurt you again. Not if he could help it. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to let you go through this alone.

“Come on,” he whispered, pulling back slightly to look down at you. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? You can stay here tonight. No one’s gonna bother you.”

He’d kill Caleb if he ever attempted to take you.

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 You Says.

Post prison Reid x Reporter!reader

Read part one here!

Summary: After a rough night and some misunderstandings, Spencer needs to do everything he can to make things right with you and get his relationship back on track. The problem is, things aren't so easy for you, and he's willing to do anything you ask, even take care of you when no one else will.

Words: 3,1k.

Warnings & Tags: mentions of crime and trauma. fem!reader. angst+comfort. reader gets sick (nothing serious, just a normal cold). second chance yep. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: Ok, I didn't think of doing a second part before, but reading my own work made me so sad😭 the cat deserves happy parents (we are the cat) but I warn you that I do not believe in magic apologies.

I. I Love You, I’m Sorry.

Spencer had been losing his mind since the last time he saw you in person, and it was all his fault. From the moment the door to his apartment closed behind you and the oven beeped, he began to feel the broken pieces of his heart that you had once held together unravel and shatter even more. He hated himself for letting his insecurities get in the way of the one good thing he had managed to have over the past few years, and for pushing you away when you didn't want to. You had been his exception among all the bad things that had happened in his life for as long as he could remember, the only one that didn't seem to want to be temporary and left him when he least expected it. And he himself had forced you out of his life, even when you didn't want to, begging him with tear-filled eyes for a little remorse that he didn't give you.

Just a few hours after the incident, he tried to go to work as if nothing had happened to clean up the mess the leak had made and put the killer in jail. He brought Penelope the promised cookies and your computer for her to examine because it felt right at the time. Part of him needed her to find real proof of your betrayal so he could stop feeling bad about making you cry and saying such ugly things to you.

Then he found out that you were telling the truth and that your computer contained nothing but photos of the two of you, all the articles he had ever written or been mentioned in your searches, and a few writings in which you poured out all your love for him in the cheesiest and most poetic way possible. You loved him, you really did, and there was no evidence to the contrary, because even Garcia could later assure him that the information had come anonymously and had been bought for five hundred dollars. But it was too late, because he had given you a conviction without even knowing it.

That's when he started to fixate on making amends for what he'd done. Every time you left work, bouquets of your favorite flowers with notes asking for forgiveness and wishing you a good night began to appear in your car. He also made a point of stopping by to talk to you and repeat how sorry he was. You knew this would happen when he realized his mistake. You had told him before you left, and that's why you refused to see him. It was good that the security guards at your workplace didn't let him in, even with his FBI credentials. The tricky part was your building because the doorman already knew him and let him in normally thanks to the excuses Spencer made up, even though you said a thousand times that he shouldn't have.

And that was happening again, for the fifth or sixth time in the last few days.

“Please, just let me talk to you and tell you how sorry I am. Listen to me for a moment.” You could hear Reid's voice from the other side of the door.

You didn't say anything. You just sat with your back against the door and one hand on your heart, as if you were trying to hold it. It didn't even cross your mind that he was in the same situation.

“Just a few minutes, please."

Once more, you remained silent.

Silence was the worst answer someone could give. You knew it, and it hurt to have to do it with him. But you had no choice because you knew that by looking into his eyes for just a few seconds, all the bad things would dissipate and maybe you would even forgive him without thinking just because of the love you had for him. You didn't like being this vulnerable and having so many feelings for someone who didn't trust you.

Lately, you've been spending every waking moment wondering what you could have done to make him believe that you were really capable of betraying him in such a cruel and selfish way. You were the one who woke up in the middle of the night to try to comfort him every time he had a nightmare or couldn't sleep. You drove to his apartment no matter what time it was to make sure he was okay. You lost your breath repeating that he was safe with you. You drank many cups of coffee the next day so you wouldn't fall asleep on the job every time the situation repeated itself. That's why you started sleeping in his apartment, wrapped in his arms because he said it made him happy to wake up and see you. And even with all that, Spencer was able to believe that you didn't love him.

You were running your hands through your hair and sighing, trying to block out all the thoughts running through your head, when you heard his phone ring. You could tell it was important by the way he spoke and changed his tone of voice, so you got up from the floor at the same time he did to put your ear to the door.

“I really have to go now, but could you open up a little bit so I can take a quick look at you?” He asked in a pleading tone after hanging up the call. “Please, I know you can hear me. I can see the shadow of your feet under the door.”

You really thought he didn't know you were there, feeling like a fool for listening to every word he said.

“If you want to see me, turn on the TV.” Your voice finally reached Spencer, and it gave him a glimmer of hope. It was the first time you had spoken to him since that night, and even though there was a door between the two of you, you were talking to him.

“It's not enough.”

“And it's not my problem.”

That was more hurtful than your silence.

“I know, it's mine.” He replied after a couple of seconds, trying to process everything. “And I will do everything I can to fix it...I have to go now, but take care of yourself. The nights have been getting colder lately, so wrap up warm.”

You knew it was a bit silly to think of that now, but his attention to detail was impressive. Since you did the evening news, you used to get off work very late, and the change from air conditioning to the city cold was quite a lot. Spencer had cited scientific studies to you many times to make you aware and know what kind of clothing materials to use to avoid a cold. You missed that a lot.

If he had the same attitude as the night of the conflict, it would be easier. You could hate him and stop loving him so strongly.

“I love you, William misses you and so do I.”

You frowned because you didn't know anyone by that name.

“William?”

“Our cat.” He answered simply. “When we talked about how we would name him, you said that a lot of people name their pets after their favorite characters. You love the movie ‘Notting Hill’ and whenever we watch it, you always say you like Hugh Grant's character named William. It also means strong-willed warrior. I just thought you would like it.”

You didn't say anything at the time because you had to cover your hand with your mouth to keep from doing so, but you liked it and you liked it too much. Once again, he focused on the details.

“You can change it if you want because I don't know if he likes it, but what I do know is that he misses you. He lies on your blanket and starts meowing, and he also looks at the door. I certainly think that every time I come home he expects it to be you.” He kept talking as he received no response from you. “It sounds like I'm talking about myself. And it's true because it happens to me the same way.”

When he paused, a tear escaped and fell down your cheek. It wasn't fair for him to say those things now.

“If you want to see him and me not being there, you can send me a message...but I'd really like to be.” He paused again, as if searching for the perfect words.

What did it cost him to have searched for the perfect words the night he distrusted you?

“I must go, I love you.”

The last thing you heard before he left was Spencer's footsteps heading towards the elevator.

II. I Miss You, I’m Sorry.

Just two weeks later, you realized that maybe you should have listened to Spencer when he said the nights were getting too cold. If you had, now you probably wouldn't be lying on your bed with an unbearable flu and no one there to bring you soup or a cold washcloth for your forehead because your mother was taking too long to get to city.

When you were younger, you thought it was a great idea to get as far away from your hometown as possible. Now, however, you realize that you need a familiar face to take care of you because you can't do it alone all the time.

You felt a sense of relief when you heard the door to your apartment open.

“Mom? I'm really hungry and the soup is all gone.” You spoke in a tired tone as you heard footsteps approaching. But at that moment, you watched as the cat you shared with Reid jumped onto the bed and started purring at you.

You thought you were hallucinating from the fever until you saw Spencer walking into your room with a couple of bags.

“I know you were expecting your mother, but we brought you soup and medicine.” He said, sitting up in bed to look closely at you and put a hand on your forehead. “You're burning up.”

“What are you doing here?” You asked, trying to pull away from his touch.

“Your mother called me because she couldn't find a flight today and was very worried. She asked me to take care of you.”

Of course she did, because she adored him and didn't know that things were bad between you two.

“I don't need you to take care of me.” You barely settled into bed and petted the cat. “Go to work, make sure no one leaks information.”

Oh, that was a low blow for him.

“I asked for a few days off because you have a high fever and someone needs to take care of you.”

“You don't have to...”

“I want to.” He said, interrupting you and putting a cold cloth on your forehead.

“Just because you're looking out for me doesn't mean I'm going to forget everything and forgive you.” You clarified right away, trying not to lose focus because of the relief you felt thanks to the cold compress.

“I know, and I don't expect you to. Just let me take care of you now, forget you hate me until you get better. I won't take advantage of this, I swear.” He looked at you with a serious gaze, as if he were swearing an oath. “Please.”

God, not puppy dog eyes now.

You used to love it when he looked at you with those sparkling eyes. Now, though, you felt manipulated by it.

“Fine, give me the soup.” You finally agreed, knowing you didn't have much of a choice. “Just a warning, please don't answer any calls near me. I can listen in and use the information to hire a nurse.”

He ignored the comment and didn't bring it up to make you uncomfortable. He sat on the edge of the bed, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His touch was light, and his eyes searched yours as he spoke.

“Is there anything else besides soup I can bring you? More tissues, or maybe some medicine?” He asked in a soft, soothing voice.

You shook your head, still a bit dazed by the situation and your stomach rumbling. You watched as Spencer disappeared into the kitchen, and you could hear his footsteps echoing throughout the house, followed by the clatter of pots and pans and the sound of the stove being turned on. You could only lie back on your bed, feeling a wave of tiredness wash over you.

A few minutes later, he came back with a bowl of chicken noodle soup and sat down next to you on the bed, being careful not to spill anything.

“Are you planning to feed me soup?” You asked, with a hint of irony in your voice, as you watched me hold the spoon and watch you.

“If you wish, I'll be happy to.” He replied simply and brought the spoon gently to your mouth.

“I'm not a baby.”

Especially not his baby.

“You hate me, I know. But I really want to take care of you, and I won't leave until at least your mother arrives.” He paused for a second, as if to catch his breath. “If you don't want me around, that's okay, I'll just sit in the corner of the room or in the living room in silence. It hurts, but I'll take whatever you want.”

You remained silent for several seconds, dedicating yourself to stroking the cat to avoid Spencer's gaze.

“I don't hate you.” Was the only thing you could say at the time.

Something inside you was expecting a more exaggerated reaction for letting your guard down a bit, or maybe you were just too feverish. The thing was, he had only given you a small, almost non-existent smile.

“I know.” He finally spoke and gently adjusted the cold compress on your forehead. “And that's why I hate myself.”

At that moment, while you were trying to make sense of how things had changed so much in just a week, he was watching you.

Spencer was waiting for you to explode, to tell him how sorry you were for getting involved with him and his complicated world, that it was all one big mistake that you would regret forever. He was expecting disaster, pain, tears, and a lot of chaos.

But you didn't give him any of that.

Just a sweet nothing.

He could tell at that moment that even though you were in a feverish state and had many reasons to be cruel, you would not be. He realized that you would never yell at him or do anything to hurt him, that the most painful thing you could give him was your silence. And it was then that he confirmed that you loved him the way he thought he did not deserve to be loved: honestly and genuinely.

“Why?” You whispered after a few minutes of silence. “Why are you with me if you don't trust me?”

“I trust you.” He looked you straight in the eye as he spoke, trying to show that he was being completely sincere. “I just don't trust myself.”

You frowned and let out a groan from the discomfort in your forehead. You weren't sure if you were hallucinating because of the cold or if Spencer was really shivering.

“I don't think I'm good enough for you, or deserve you, or that you love me because you want to.” He finally admitted, his voice slightly shaky. He seemed to be in a worse state than you. “It's silly because you've never given me a reason to distrust you.”

“I know you thought I was going to leave. But I didn't want to leave until you asked me to.” You were close to crying, so you pretended to sneeze to hide your watery eyes. You didn't want to show how vulnerable you were. “It was easier to distrust me and blame me like I was just another bad person you catch.”

“Yes, but...” He replied, trying to answer your question.

“Don't talk. It's my turn.”

He nodded after a few seconds, watching you with concern. “Just be careful, you're still sick.”

You already knew how sick you were and how deplorable you probably looked, but you wanted to say it all and stop feeling a lump in your throat.

“You say you trust me, but you really don't, and I've been trying to understand you for almost a year, Spencer. It's been eleven months of trying not to invade your space, avoiding topics that make you tense or your eyes glaze over.” You had to stop to catch your breath and drink some water with his help. “And you think I don't understand you or really know you, but I do. I know how all your dishes are arranged, I know how you like to fold clothes and eat toast, I know that chess reminds you of someone because your eyes get watery every time we see a board, I know about the book signed by Maeve that you hide in your closet and about which you tense up every time I'm near, I know about your nightmares about prison that you don't like to talk about, and about your mother's favorite colors that change every day. I know so much about you, and yet you think I know nothing.”

Once more, there was a long, quiet pause.

“I'm so sorry.” He held your hands as he repeated the same thing, this time with a truly sincere tone. The whole room was still tense as his knees touched the floor, and the apology he gave you seemed like a plea. “I'm really sorry. I know you don't want apologies, you want trust, and I'm going to show you that.”

You didn't say anything as he sat down next to you on the bed.

“I trust you, that's why I always tell you about my cases. And I will tell you about all my past, if you want, because for me you are my present and my future...of course, only if you still want to.”

The eyes of both of you were fixed on the cat you shared, who was purring and lying very comfortably in the middle of the bed. It was nice to know that at least one of the three of you was happy.

“Tell me.”

And just as you asked, he told you everything because he wanted to show you that he trusted you.

This time he really trusted.

[okkotsuus]

"YOU'RE AS BEAUTIFUL AS THE DAY I LOST YOU" (katsuki b.) !

features: katsuki bakugo

contents: fantasy au. angst. hurt/comfort/more hurt. mutual pining. barabrian!katsuki. fem!reader. childhood friends to lovers to strangers to lovers again. kidnapping. grief. crying. implied panic attack. major character death. no beta we die like men. 3.9k

notes: i've been yearning desperately to make bakugo say stoick's famous line from httyd2 (my second favorite movie)... if there's interest i'm considering continuing this into the canon verse with it being these two 'reincarnated'.

tagging: @saexy (for enabling and encouraging me in killing off characters) & @meristryker (for enabling me in the gc like a real one)

never in all his life did the great katsuki bakugo think that he would ever love someone enough that he could die. watching the loving smiles of his parents, the gentle caress of his father's hand to soothe his mother's unbridled anger: it made his stomach churn.

yet, at the tender age of seven, while on a trip to a nearby village to discuss the war shifting on the horizon, he finds himself absolutely smitten by their chieftain's daughter. wide e/c eyes peeking out from behind her mother's leg, hands clutching onto the hem of the long skirt.

katsuki finds himself enamoured in that instance, seeing sweet you, looking at the boy with such curious eyes. he stomps over to you: temper even fiery in his youth. his hand grabs onto yours as he hauls you out from behind the safety of your mother.

under the dim candlelight of the meeting room, flickering flames cast dancing rays across your skin. his chubby little face is scrunched into a scowl, tugging you out of the room and into the courtyard with a tenderness that betrayed his expression.

"i'm katsuki and you better not forget it!" his pitchy voice calls, still dragging you behind him. he looks over his shoulder, soft red eyes narrowed in what was an attempt to be intimidating.

but when he sees the relaxing of your eyelids, falling slightly in contentment, with a warm smile that rivals any feeling of victory: the mask of indifference slips in a blink of an eye. red dusts over the slops of his face, baby-fat painted the same carnelian as his eyes. his small hand grips tighter onto yours, as if he never would let you go.

your chubby little face stretches as your smile widens into a toothy grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. "got it, katsuki, i'm y/n!" he swears your voice is just like the lullaby his mother would hum while rocking him to sleep, bringing a rush of warmth through his chest.

that day, katsuki bakugou falls terribly in love with y/n l/n.

the two of you are deemed inseparable, hands always connecting like opposing poles of a magnet. pinkies intertwined stronger than any woven cloth. it's as pure and innocent as it can be.

if one were to see y/n, then it was irrevocably certain that katsuki was a few steps away. it sends rumors spiralling through the lands that there will be a union between the bakugo barbaricum and l/n dynasty. you're only eight when there's an attempt made for your hand.

the thought of two families as powerful as you and katsuki's joining was a fearful thing to many. it spelled doom for many weaker civilizations, those who had dug their own graves with their actions.

your family, blessed be you to have been born to loving parents in a world such as this, easily rejects the many proposals. the l/n dynasty is in a state of power where they are not forced to fend for their village: allowing you this freedom.

running through the streets of his stronghold, chasing each other for the sake of some game that was the farthest thing from either of your minds. katsuki feels whole when you are at his side. the world doesn't seem so ugly, he doesn't feel so angry, everything sings the hymns of the heavens.

he can't pull his ruby eyes off of your form by the age of fifteen. the katsuki you had known, baby-faced with a slight stutter, has began to fill out into a man. his shoulders broaden and begin to carry thick cords of muscle. the chubbiness of his cheeks begins to give rise to sharper angles. his whiny voice is pushed aside by a more gravelly tone. he shoots up like a sprout, hunching over slightly in faces that used to fit him so easily.

but he isn't the only one who is growing into his frame. your shoulders soften at the corners, collarbones visible with every slight movement. your baby fat begins to settle and collect on your hips, rounding them. those toothy grins of yours become framed by pretty lips, always looking soft as a pillow. clothes that used to drape over your like a sheet now feel tighter in certain places, stretching over curves that popped up overnight.

the two of you don't know what to do with yourselves, stolen looks when the other isn't looking. you still hook pinkies, but the touch sends flares of heat running up the back of your neck. it's like you were just meeting each other for the first time all over again.

katsuki feels like a damn sap with the way his heart thunders under his skin: threatening to burst out. he's too taken to notice the heat that was rising to your face whenever he was around, the way your hands nervously would grip onto the swaying fabric of your skirt. too blind to see that you were just as infatuated with him as he was with you.

hurried words, lingering touches, sneaking glances, the two of you had every hint of love right in front of your faces. yet, there's a hesitance that lingers in the back of young minds: afraid that falling in love would end up with no one catching them.

unsurprisingly, katsuki is the one who jumps first. it's a quiet night, the moon is high in the sky. his breath puffs out in front of him like smoke, winter beginning to show herself once more.

you looked too beautiful under the soft azure glow that the celestial sky casts upon you, he simply couldn't bear another moment without you known how much his very soul ached for you.

on the eve of his sixteenth birthday he whispers the words like a prayer, voice softened and gentle for once in his life. "y/n... you plague my every waking thought, i cannot let my heart beat any longer without it being yours."

e/c eyes widen as your head snaps to him, lips parting in shock. katsuki beats you to it, rough palms (once baby-soft) cupping your cheek with a tenderness he was unaware he possessed.

the stars illuminate the sunkissed slopes of his cheekbones, showing the fine lashes that fan out over his eyes. katsuki was ethereal, in every sense of the word, it catches your breath in a hitch. your mind stumbles through everything you could say right now, desperately trying to find the perfect response.

but when the pads of his thumbs drag over the apples of your cheeks, leaving a buzz in the wake of his touch, all rational thought leaves as you allow words to flow like a stream. "i have loved you longer than i have known you, katsuki." your voice is hushed, only filling the small space between the two of you: like a secret that only he and you would ever know.

it sends a trill up your spine when his eyes visibly soften, his face had been growing more and more sharp by the day but only when he was with you did the curve of his cheeks soften. he turns back into a boy around you, as you turn back into a girl when held so gently between his hands.

katsuki surges forwards, nose clumsily knocking against yours, teeth colliding with your own. he's inexperienced, never having kissed a girl, much less even though of kissing anyone but you. you both are a mess, giggling softly through messy pecks smearing over each other's faces. it feels like you're both those giddy kids once more, chasing the other through the cobbled streets of your village. he makes your heart sing.

it was even harder to be apart from him now, hands fully clasped together as you walk through the streets of either of your hometowns. yet, no one is surprised. neither of your parents nor his even bat an eye when you announce the courtship at a family dinner.

love is as natural as breathing for you and katsuki. inherently you have always known exactly what the other needs. he knows just how much you like the wildflowers that grow en-route between your homes. you know just how much he likes when you rise on your tiptoes and press a kiss against the corner of his lips.

it's young and dumb, a rush of big emotions and smiles that stretch your cheeks so far they ache. once you both are eighteen, katsuki turns the courtship into a betrothal. an elegant gold ring, with a garnet slotted right in the center, it sits pretty on your ring finger. his band is thicker, small e/c gemstones scattered along the surface. when in battle he loops it through a chain around his neck: pressing a kiss to the ring before charging forwards.

the world has known y/n l/n and katsuki bakugo have been in love for nearly twelve years, official for three, and betrothed for one. the bakugo barbaricum and the l/n dynasty have began making their plans to unify upon the wedding. it sparks a wave of unease in the badlands.

all it takes is an emissary sent from the dark forest for your world to crumble into shambles. a demon who seems to be the land's scourge reincarnated, hand that turn all to ash, pillages your beloved village. he comes in tow with a mimic and a fire mage. destruction rains as you are brought to the center as their singular demand is you.

your eyes lock with the demon's red eyes, a color that had made you feel so safe until now. the hair on the nape of your neck stands pin-straight as his hand extended towards you: palm up.

a flurry of emotions rush through you like a burst dam, memories of katsuki at the forefront. you want to be selfish, to damn him and his band of criminals to hell, to fight back despite the gravity of the situation. but he is bringing terror upon the people you swore to protect with your life.

so, you step forwards, soft hand sliding into his own. never had a rough palm felt like daggers against your skin, never had you so violently despised the way carmine shines in the light of blue flames.

to save your people, your family, the home you have known your entire life: you go. swept away in black mist. the last thing you see of that place is the bakugo horde rushing towards the gates, your eyes lock with katsuki's before the void claims you.

katsuki lets out a guttural scream as her charges head first into the miasma, falling onto the ground as the last wisp flows just through his fingers. his fist slams against the ground, hands gasping at the dirt you had just been on. he allows himself to cry in front of someone other than you, a wail echoing through the ruins of your village.

that day, you disappear off the face of the realm. no matter how many search parties are sent into the dark forests in the badlands, they all return empty-handed (if they return at all). katsuki keep his ring around his neck, so it beats against his bare chest with every movement: like a reminder of how it felt when his heart actually beat .

scars wind around his arms, around his biceps, over his forearms, across his shoulders. his face is hardened, permanent frown on the lips you used to kiss so tenderly. he's angrier than ever, fuse short as his attention span.

he is a shell of the man he had been, going through the motions of survival but never truly being alive.

this persists for a grueling two years. for seven-hundred and thirty days. for seventeen-thousand five-hundred twenty hours. he is separated from the only person that has ever felt like home, the woman he has loved longer than he knew how to read.

he masks it behind his ego, boisterous laugh to hide the ringing in is ears that hadn't been able to stop. he's more violent the field, less forgiving when in training with kirishima. the explosions that thunder from his palms produce a blackened smoke that lingers and settles in his lungs like a fog.

yearning hits him late at night when he lays alone in bed, a bed that you had once shared with him. silent tears pour, running down the sides of katsuki's face as he stares blankly up at the ceiling. his breath feels short as his chest heaves to get air in. the man's mind is clouded with the look on your face as those bastards took you. he can still remember every single little twitch of your expression when you finally saw him. he remembers the way your breath hitched. he remembers the tears that began to pool at the corners of your eyes.

but, most of all, he remembers not seeing you: for what feels like the first time in his life.

katsuki cannot recall when he finally fell asleep, or if he ever even truly did. his dreams are plagued with you anyways, so the line between memory and dream is thin as a tightrope.

he has a dream that he makes it in time to save you and wakes up alone. that one sticks with him for months, hanging over him like a shadow. if he was only a minute sooner, a stride faster, reacted quicker. maybe you would be in his arms right now instead of gods know where.

relief comes in a rumor that circles in a tavern that a woman with h/c hair and e/c eyes was spotted wondering through the dark forest. katsuki doesn't hesitate, he makes no effort to send out a scout party. he rides at dawn, horse hooves beating against the grass in a frenzied gallop as he makes his way into the badlands.

none of the rouges or thieves hope to stand a chance with him, the smart ones don't even try. he vanquishes the less fortunate with a single swing of his cutlass. the man doesn't stop to rest, only to water his horse and allow it to graze while he catches a brief nap.

his horse comes to a stop right outside the dark forests, whinnying in rejection to enter. katsuki doesn't blame the poor thing, this was the kind of place people went with no intention to come back from. he dismounts, not tying his horse off: it would return with a whistle.

the forest is eerie, yawning opening that is reminiscent of a gaping mouth. but he didn't fear. because at this point, he'd rather not come back if it meant he wasn't coming back with you.

footfalls crunching against leaves and sticks echo through the dim lit treeline. the canopy is so thick that it completely obscures the bright sunlight katsuki has just been under: the perfect place for criminals to hide. the trees creak and groan, as if the land itself was breathing and living.

only when he hears the snap of a twig does he stop, his head snaps around, a flash of h/c darting just out of the corner of his visions. the man's heart stops as he stumbles to pursue, not minding the whipping of low handing branches against his face. not when he could see you darting through the underbrush.

he finally sees you in the full when you run into a path dead-ended by brambles. it's really you. y/n, his y/n.

but you look over your shoulder with such a forlorn look it makes his heart ache in his chest. you don't believe that it's really him. "toga, this isn't funny, it's cruel to keep making me see him." your voice is rougher than he remembered, as if your throat had been worn. it makes his fists clench at his sides.

the mimic had been wearing his face, just to torment you?

just the thought of it sends a rage burning deep in his chest. he has no way of knowing what you have been through. katsuki couldn't protect you: like he always feared he would fail to do.

his steps toward you are hesitant, ruby red eyes softening the second he sees your face. his heart is pounding out of his ribs, it makes him wonder if you can hear it.

a rough hand reaches up to roughly tug the chain that held his engagement band around his neck, the links snapping and clattering to the ground. he doesn't even look at it. with a gentleness, he holds out the ring to you.

your eyes dart back between the metal and him, hands tentatively reaching for it. the thundering race of your heartbeat is all you can hear. your hands, once soft, now rough as his bush against his own as you roll the ring between your fingers.

katsuki's heart breaks when he feels the callouses on your fingertips. he lowers slowly to his knees in front of you, tears fighting their way to prick at the corners of his eyes. he looks up at you like you are the light in the world, a goddess before him. in a way, you are, because he had prayed to every deity to hold you again, even if it was only once more.

"you're as beautiful as the day i lost you." his words come out in a rasp. thick emotion coursing through his chest; nearly choking him.

he watched your eyes widen, tears pooling as you too crash onto the ground. your arms wrap tight around his neck, face pressed side-by-side with his own. strong arms encircle your waist in an instant, pressing you closer with an urgency.

"katsuki... oh gods, katsuki..." you don't even know what to say, just repeating his name like a desperate prayer. your cheeks are wet and your chest aches but you don't care, because he's finally here.

lips clash desperately, just as messy as the kiss the two of you first shared five years ago. it's a mess of teeth and tongue as your fingers tangle into ash-blonde hair, his hands finding the back of your head and your hip. he sucks the breath out of you, as if wanting to absorb you into his being.

and you'd let him if he asked.

carmine eyes search for e/c, his hands cupping your cheeks as he pulls back to study your face. it's like you never left. your eyes are tired, there's some grime on your cheeks, a soft scar above your eyebrow that you've had since you were thirteen.

the softest smile spreads on his face, forehead pressing against yours as his lashes flutter shut. katsuki lets out a deep sigh, one he had been holding for nearly two years now.

warmth blooms in your chest as everything finally settles back into place like puzzle pieces. your hearts beat in sync, you draw breath when he exhales, everything is right in the world once more.

but your heart skips a beat as your eyes open to see that cursed white hair with horns peeking out from below it. tomura shigaraki. a wicked smirk on his lips as he's leaned back against a tree, simply watching.

your hands grip tighter onto the back of the shawl draping over katsuki's shoulders, breathing turning shaky and ragged.

no. no. no. they couldn't take this from you. not again. not after how hard you fought to escape the league just at the fleeting chance of being able to see the man you love. this had to be some cruel joke, right? a trick of the light, maybe...

even you aren't naive enough to believe that, your eyes close as you lean against katsuki, head burying into the crook of his neck. your fiddle with his hands to slip the ring back onto it's rightful place on his third finger. a part of you had already resigned to being ripped away again.

after two years with the demon, you learned firsthand what shigaraki was capable of. and you were not going to allow katsuki to find it out as well.

your legs shook as you stood, a weak smile given at your lover's confused look. "i'll always love you, 'suki, you know that." his eyes widen as his head nods, brows furrowing.

"then let me keep you safe."

carnelian irises widen in realization as his head turns to look back, growl ripping from his chest at the sight of the scourge of the realm's protege. his hands immediately reach for the hilt of his sword, explosions popping in his palms.

but you're already beginning to approach. katsuki seizes you in one arm, hauling you away like the day you first met. he runs through the forest with you: knowing that shigaraki would not allow the both of you to leave.

he bounds over winding tree roots, holding you steady and tight against his chest. the impending sense of doom begins to crawl up the back of his neck, but he needs you to be safe.

with you in his arm, he stumbles out of the forest, shrill whistle leaving his lips as the sound of hooves grows closer. with ease he sets you up on the saddle, but he does not join. you realize immediately what is about to happen. "katsuki-"

"no. it's my turn to keep you safe, y/n. i've always loved you, and i always will. in every life i will find you, and in every life, i will protect you." his words bring tears to your eyes as you desperately stake your head, sobs bubbling past your lips.

shigaraki creeps out of the forest and he delivers a harsh smack to the horse's haunches, sending it galloping away. within a second later a hand is reaching through katsuki's chest, mocking laugh against his ear.

"how heroic. i'll make sure you die slow, barbarian."

never in all his life did the great katsuki bakugo think that he would ever love someone enough that he could die.

that was until he lay on the edge of the forest floor, lifeblood leaking from the gaping hole in the center of the chest. but he wasn't anguished: because he died for you, the only person who he would ever love.

okkotsuus 24

[byunpum]

Mama's Boy | Part 4

Pair: Jake x neytiri x human reader (trio couple) x sully children's

Warning: Kinda sad, cozy moments, conflict, family problems

Note: This part may be a bit long, but I hope you still enjoy it. I think only one part is left, but we'll see. Do you like the reading to be this long or shorter?. btwI recently opened a KO-Fi…. if you want to leave any tips or support I would appreciate it (it would help me to buy real coffee xD).

AVATAR MASTERLIST | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6(final)

7 years ago… You were quite calm decorating and cleaning your home, neytiri was out for a walk with kiri and baby tuk. While jake had gone out to practice with lo'ak and neteyam. Leaving you alone, and peaceful. But all that quiet was interrupted, when you heard a lo'ak crying. He came rushing in, straight towards you. He was wiping away the tears that were falling on his cheeks. "MAMA" lo'ak whimpers, coming towards you. Throwing himself into your arms, not caring what you were doing. The boy wrapped his arms around your neck, burying his face in your neck. Lo'ak was 7 years old, and already about your height. But that didn't stop his mother from comforting him, and right now he needed it. "Honey…what's wrong? You're hurt" you push him away a little, taking a quick look. You see that he doesn't have any injuries, so what was wrong with him. You hug him again, caress his back. And you cuddle him from side to side. Trying to calm the child down. After a couple of minutes, you feel lo'ak move away a little. You wipe his face a little. "Are you more calm?" you smile at him a little trying to comfort him.

"Yes…it's just that…" lo'ak tries to speak, but stops when he feels his tears coming again. "Calm down love…what's wrong" you speak, you were worrying about whatever had happened, it was really mortifying him. "I was with daddy…practicing my shots with my bow. It was my turn and " lo'ak takes a deep breath. You already knew what the boy was going to say, you gently caress his cheek. "I didn't get it right…and I would try again many times. But dad told me that neteyam was better at archery than me. And that's not true!!!" Lo'ak begins to cry. "Love…daddy only said that for your own good, to make you better" you know it's not right what jake said. You hated it when jake compared lo'ak to neteyam. "No…he said neteyam was much better than me in everything…that I should be like him. And I don't want to be like neteyam, neteyam is ugly" lo'ak yells a little.

"Hey, first neteyam is not to blame for anything…and second, I will talk to your father. But love…don't make a big deal out of those comments. Your father sometimes doesn't think about what he's going to say, okay?" you try to reassure the boy. "Why don't you go and find spider, and you two can play. Yeah?" you say, watching as the boy perks up.

That same night, you and Jake have a big argument. Even neytiri had to step in. She was never on either side. It was so bad, that you even took lo'ak and left the house to sleep with mo'at. Behind you were kiri and neteyam. "You can't take the children with you," shouts Jake in anger. "Of course I can, I'm not going to leave them here with an immature person" you shout back, neytiri was trying to rationalize with you. But she ends up following you, giving Jake a disapproving look.

Present day…

"mom…can you help me with this?" asks neteyam, approaching you. He was holding a pretty feather ornament. "Sure come here sweetie" you speak, inviting him to sit down in front of you. You get up from the floor, to now work on his hair. The whole family had gotten up early to finish packing, almost everything was ready. But there were more things to pack, now that they had spent time in the metkayina clan. As you worked on neteyam's hair, you noticed how the scar from his wound had healed, but it was still there. "Honey…I'm glad to see you are healing" you speak, listening as neteyam laughs but then goes silent. "mom for a moment i thought i was going to die and never see you again" neteyam says. Lo'ak was sitting on your left side, he heard what his brother said. He quickly tapped him on the shoulder. "Bro…don't say that" lo'ak didn't like to talk about it. You on the other hand felt sorry, you almost lost one of your babies and you weren't there. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, and give him a hug. The tightest hug you can. "I would have found a way to see you, you know that right?" you speak, watching as the boy turns to look at you. "I know mom…that's why I stopped worrying" neteyam laughs a little. Settling down so you can continue to work on his hair.

Meanwhile tonowari was on his way to the sully's marui, that same morning he woke up early and discussed his decision with ronal, the woman strongly disagreed. She did not like the idea of having a human in her clan. But she had to support her partner's decision. Tonowari quietly approached the entrance of the marui and stood in silence. To his surprise, he had the scene that lo'ak was trying to explain to him the night before. Neteyam was sitting, while you were combing his hair. Lo'ak sat next to you eating a piece of fruit, while laughing with kiri. The children looked so happy around you, they felt safe. He walked in a little, causing his presence to be noticed by jake. The whole family looked at him. "tonowari…is something wrong?" asks jake, finding the man's presence in their home strange.

"I came here because I want to talk…to the whole family" says tonowari, looking at you quickly. I had to admit, your presence was strange. "Come in," says Jake. Everyone turns their attention to the man who had now sat down. "Your son…lo'ak" tonowari points to lo'ak quickly. Jake looks at him with concern, what lo'ak must have done now. Swallowing hard, praying it's nothing bad. "The boy talked to me and I must say he was mature enough to stand up for his mother" tonowari says.

"I'm sorry if he said something he shouldn't I" jake started to apologize, but tonowari raises his hand to pause him. "He didn't do anything wrong…in fact he convinced me. I accept that human stays between us" tonowari says, lo'ak looks at you and smiles wide. Holding your hand tightly. "Are you serious?" jake couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Yes…I can imagine how bad it must be for the family not to have a member in it." Tonowari can see how everyone in the family gets excited. "But I have one condition," Tonowari says, staring at you. "Yes tell me…whatever" you speak, tonowari is surprised. For the first time he was talking to you face to face, he must admit you were very beautiful. And he could notice some features you shared with your son, lo'ak.

"I will give you a testing time. You will have to live as a metkayina, swim, fish, work as a metkayina. You will not be anyone's burden, and you will earn your own place here in the clan, that's for sure," says Tonowari. He was serious, you only had one chance. If you did something wrong, or made a mistake it was all over. "Don't worry, I will do my best. I assure you I won't cause any trouble," you say. "They're going to love her," says Kiri excitedly, getting up from the floor to hug you. This news makes the whole family happy. Tonowari says goodbye and leaves. The whole family is silent for a moment, analyzing what had happened. This was a lot of information, for such a short time. "Mom…you are staying here!!!" says lo'ak, the boy is so excited. He was about to cry. The only family member who hadn't said anything was jake, he was still sitting in the same position.

"Lo'ak…why did you go talk to tonowari and not say anything to me" jake sounded upset, in fact he looked upset. "Jake" neytiri starts talking, she already knew what jake was going to come out with. "Dad it's just that you had argued with him and I wanted to fix things" lo'ak tries to explain his point of view. "You know this could have ended worse" jake says, you pick yourself up off the floor. Making a noise like 'ha'. Jake looks at you in surprise. "I can't believe it, your son has done something wonderful. And instead of congratulating him…you're scolding him? You are unbelievable jake" you speak, while crossing your arms. Neytiri could see your position, and if there was one thing she knew, it was that you were not an easy woman. You might be small, but your character and the power you had over Jake was gigantic. "Okay, everybody calm down. Lo'ak you did a great job" neytiri reaches up to stroke the boy's face. "And jake…Y/N is right, no need to complain" neytiri speaks, hoping everything will calm down.

Jake takes a deep breath, stretching his arms in the air. Shaking his body a little, stretching out one of his hands to signal for you to come closer. He had a goofy grin on his face, when he felt you approach his arm. Skillfully grabbing your waist, with a quick movement pulling you into his body . Cuddling you into his arms, filling your cheeks with kisses as your laughter could be heard throughout the marui. This was supposed to be a moment of happiness for the family, they were finally going to be together after a long time apart. That same morning, everyone helped to unpack all the belongings. Neytiri was thankful that the heaviest things had not been packed, because they did have a lot of things. Also that night, the family celebrated like in the old days, of course…inside the marui and in silence. Preparing a good meal, dancing and laughing about the old days. It felt so nostalgic, it had been a long time since they had had such a good time.

Everyone got ready to rest. The boys settled into their hammocks, ready to sleep. As in the old days, you went one by one to say good night to them. Giving them a kiss on the forehead. First it was tuk, then kiri, then neteyam and for the last it was lo'ak. "Goodnight my precious baby" you speak, giving him a kiss on the forehead. Watching as lo'ak giggles tenderly, he looked so adorable like that. "Mama can you sleep with me?" lo'ak asks you, causing a smile from you. "Love…" you didn't know what to say to him, lo'ak was too old for you to sleep with him. But you felt sorry for your boy, he had missed you so much. But if you were going to be fair, all the children in the family had asked to sleep with you. Just before you could give an answer, Jake came up behind you. "ahh no, your mom is going to sleep with us…and that's it" says jake, seeing how lo'ak's face is one of sadness. "I promise you that later mom will sleep with you, ok?" you speak, saying goodbye again to lo'ak.

Jake and you walked away. Jake looked back, to see lo'ak giving him a dirty look. This surprised Jake, chuckling to himself. As he walked you over to the hammock you shared. "Ney" you hum, as you climb into the hammock. Snuggling into neytiri's chest, she snuggles you into her arms. Feeling jake settle in behind you. "Your son hates me," jake says, burying his head in the back of your neck. "Which one?" you speak, as neytiri lets out a laugh. "Hey" jake slaps you on your ass. You and neytiri continue to laugh. "I'm talking about lo'ak, you would have seen the way he looks at me" jake was still shocked, lo'ak had never looked at him like that. "You asked for it…you're taking his mom" says neytiri. "Yeah but his mom…she's ours too, isn't she?" says jake, leaving a few wet kisses on your neck. Neytiri hugs you tighter on her chest, you felt so good. You had missed them too much.

2 months later…

You had gotten used to life in the new clan pretty fast. You had started taking some lessons with ronal on fishing, since you couldn't ride an ilu. You had to do everything the traditional way, according to the na'vis. But for you it was normal, humans had to do things traditionally all the time. So fishing with a net, collecting the things you had to use, even though it was more difficult, you had managed it. Ronal was still not very sure about you, whenever you were with her there was always your bodyguard, Neytiri. Your partner did not leave you alone with Ronal at any time. According to Neytiri Ronal could tempt you with your life. You thought she was overreacting, but you didn't argue with neytiri about such things, she had always been that way with you.

On the other hand, tonowari could tell that everything jake and lo'ak had told her about you was true. You were the most peaceful person he had ever met. He had barely listened to you, well… he hadn't talked to you much. But whenever he saw you, you were always with your children, or helping a clan member. Tonowari would approach the na'vis and ask them what they thought of you. They would always respond with a 'she is very nice''I like her, she is a very good person'. This would relieve it a little, but you were still on probation.

On the other hand, your relationship with your family was in a good state, better than ever. Everything seemed to be running smoothly. Or so you thought. It was morning around 10:00 am as far as you could calculate. Kiri had insisted the night before that you accompany her to look for shells on the beach where she liked to go. You accepted without a problem, you had nothing to do and wanted to spend time with one of your girls. Lo'ak was invited to the expedition, of course he didn't have to ask…he was always with you. If he wasn't with his friends, it was behind you. "Hey…watch out, the sun looks like it's going to be very hot" says neytiri. If the sun was bad for the na'vi, it was worse for you. You joke a little, watching as neytiri approaches you to put some kind of cream on you to protect you from the sun. You and Jake joked that this was a sunblock bomb, because the smell was so strong. "Ahh I hate that smell!!!" you complain, but neytiri nips you a little to stop you from moving. "Yeah…but you're going to thank me when you don't get burned like a tapirus" neytiri sounds angry, seeing that you don't take her concern seriously.

You say goodbye and leave with kiri and lo'ak towards the beach. They arrived quickly, the place was very close. Kiri was lying in the water, sinking her face from time to time. While you were sitting next to her, you had your head back and your eyes closed. Enjoying the warmth, it had rained a lot the previous days. The weather felt great. While lo'ak was playing eywa knows where. You could just hear the water splashing in the distance. Out of nowhere, you feel someone approach and make a spray of water fall on your face. "Lo'ak…watch out!!!" you scold, seeing the boy laughing in front of you. He looked like a puppy about to make a mischief. "Mom, I want you to meet someone?" says lo'ak. This gets your attention, settling in straight to look at him. "Is it a girl? Tsireya?" you ask, lo'ak gets nervous and moves his face in a 'no' expression. "It's something better…it's my other brother" lo'ak says, you look at him curiously. Lo'ak had gone crazy, as far as you knew the only brother he had was neteyam. "You mean teyam?" you say.

Lo'ak lets out a laugh, as he sits closer to you. "Mama no, he is ahhh he is a tulkun. I want you to meet him" lo'ak was excited, he wanted you to meet payakan. You think about it for a while, but you accept. You couldn't say no to that adorable little face. You tap kiri's shoulder. The little girl lifts her face. "What happened, Mom?" speaks Kiri, and you brush a few strands of hair out of her face. "Honey I'm going for a walk with lo'ak do you want to go?" you ask her. "Nooo mama just you and me" lo'ak complains, crossing his arms. "You don't have to yell…mom don't worry I'll be here a while longer and then I'll go home" kiri says.

"Ok….but be very careful. I trust you" you speak, watching as Kiri smiles at you and goes back to playing with the little fish in the area. You get up from the water, accompanying lo'ak. He was already jumping up and down with excitement. Telling you all about his friend, how he met him and where he came from. All while walking towards his ilu. The trip was quite fast, lo'ak arrived getting up a little from his ilu. Calling out his friend's name. "Mama he will be here soon" lo'ak looks around, seeing if he saw his friend. "Don't worry if he doesn't come" you speak up, but remain silent when you see as a shadow below you. "Here he is!!!" lo'ak says, excited. Payakan comes out of the water, making a noise of greeting. "Payakan look…this is my mom. Remember I told you about her?" says lo'ak moving to the side, to take your hand. So that you would come closer to him. Lo'ak sometimes forgot that your legs were shorter and you were smaller. But you manage to stand now on the creature's flipper. While lo'ak's ilu begins to swim around.

"Mama he is payakan my brother…and payakan she is my mama" lo'ak speaks, petting the creature. Tulkun makes another noise, and you startle a little. You had to admit that this was very new to you. You still didn't understand the language of signs very well, let alone this creature. "mama he says you are very pretty" says lo'ak. You could see the look of pride on his face, this was very important to him. "Thank you" you look at payakan, and he gets excited. Making a stream of water come out of his back. "Mama likes you very much" lo'ak says. You giggle a little, reaching over to pet the creature. It was very amazing and majestic. You and lo'ak spent the whole afternoon playing and hanging out together. For a moment, you just sit in lo'ak's ilu, watching the boy swim and play with his friend. You loved seeing him like that, so happy and carefree.

After a while, for some reason you started to feel sick. You had felt dizzy that morning, but you didn't think it was important. But now you were feeling worse, the dizziness was getting stronger and your vision was getting quite blurry. And not to mention the headache and stomach pain you were getting. "L-lo'ak" you yell under your breath. You were already writhing in pain, you lean forward. Trying to get your balance. The ilu of lo'ak noticed something was going on, and began to make a lot of noise. Catching lo'ak's attention, the boy stops swimming and takes a look at your location. He can tell how you were moving oddly, and his ilu looked a little uneasy.

He swims as fast as he can, coming towards you. "MAMA, MAMA!!!" lo'ak approaches and tries to get your attention. Lifting your shoulder, but he sees how you don't respond. You had fainted, your body was resting in the ilu. "Mom get up, what's wrong with you!!!" lo'ak is getting very desperate, what had happened to you, you were fine minutes ago. Maybe the sun was too strong, or you were sick. Lo'ak climbs into his ilu, carrying you in his arms. Leaving for the clan, he made his ilu swim as fast as possible, but he could not hold back his tears. You were still not getting up and he was getting desperate. "mama please…get up" shouts lo'ak shaking you a little. The trip back was a long one for lo'ak, arriving at the coast. Shouting his father's name for him to arrive. "Dad!!!dad!!!help!!!" shouts lo'ak.

Jake had arrived at the marui, he was accompanied by neytiri. Kiri had told them that you and lo'ak had gone for a walk. But she didn't tell them where you were going, this made Jake a little nervous. Jake was very careful with you, and even more so since you were on probation. You couldn't cause trouble or else they would have to leave. Jake hears the shouts of lo'ak, who were approaching the marui. "What's going on?" neytiri gets up from the ground, running to the entrance accompanied by jake. Watching as lo'ak enters with his mother in his arms. You had woken up on the road, but a you were still very dizzy. "Y/N!!!" neytiri takes you in her arms, and quickly places you on the ground. "Lo'ak what happened…what happened?" shouts jake, sitting down next to neytiri. Watching as the woman tried to stabilize y/n. "Honey, come on open your eyes" says jake, tapping you on the cheek. While neytiri placed a wet cloth on her forehead, jake tried to get your oxygen machine to pump out more oxygen (here I'm talking about the mask the reader is wearing).

After a while, neytiri managed to get you up. "Take some water" neytiri speaks, stroking your hair. You were sitting up, feeling tired and even a little dizzy. Lo'ak was standing all this time, watching as his parents tried to help you. "Don't worry…it was just a dizzy feeling" you laugh a little. "A simple dizziness…ma y/n you were unconscious" neytiri speaks annoyed. Meanwhile jake was walking from one side of the marui to the other. "Lo'ak what the hell happened? What did you do?" jake looks at lo'ak intensely. "I…mom and I were at the sea. We were visiting payakan" lo'ak says timidly. The poor boy looks at you quickly, trying to seek your help. "J-jake" you speak softly. But you watch as your partner ignores you, and moves closer to lo'ak. "Why are you so ignorant…you know that's a dangerous place for your mother" jake yells.

"But daddy" lo'ak tries to defend himself. "Dad nothing… why are you like this? You're fucking irresponsible" jake yells again. But the words were like a knife to lo'ak, jake was acting as if the boy had caused this on purpose. "JAKE" you yell, getting up from the ground. Neytiri tries to stop you, but you walk towards jake. "What the hell is wrong with you?" you look at Jake in shock. "I'm telling him the truth, why can't he behave like neteyam" says jake.

"Because he's not neteyam!!!!" you yell as loud as you can. Lo'ak wipes away some tears and runs out of the marui. "Lo'ak come over here!!!" jake was going to stop lo'ak, but you stop him. "What do you want him to stay for?" you were annoyed, jake was always going overboard with lo'ak. He didn't half like how he talked to his son. "Why do you keep comparing lo'ak to neteyam? They are completely different people. Besides this whole situation is not his fault" you speak.

"But he knows he shouldn't take you to that place," Jake speaks. "Jake, I'm a grown woman…I do what I want. And I'm getting sick and tired of this attitude you have with our kids. I'm reaching my limit" you were so upset, you were turning red with anger. "Y/N listen to me" jake tries to speak.

"I don't want to listen to you…this isn't something that's happening now. This has been going on for years. Have you ever wondered why your children look at you with fear, because yes, they are afraid of you? Have you ever asked them how they feel or what they want to do, no. You just give orders and think that everyone is doing what they want to do. You just give orders and think everyone here is going to follow them." You yell, pacing a bit all over the marui. Neytiri was sitting on the floor watching and listening to all the discussion. She wasn't saying anything, because she knows you were right.

"I think I'm tired of this…I love you Jake, I love you with all my soul, but I think it's best if we go back to our home… "You lower your head, you felt bad and this whole situation was exhausting you more. You didn't want it to escalate to this level. "Let's go home?" jake gets a little confused, glancing quickly at neytiri. She lifts her shoulders, she didn't know what you were talking about. "I will go with lo'ak to our home, live with mo'at. If any of the children want to leave with me I will take them. But I will not leave them here…getting this treatment. Because they deserve to have a normal childhood" you had tears in your eyes. Leaving Jake there silent and stunned, as you walked towards the Marui's balcony. Neytiri gets up quickly chasing after you.

"Y/N!!!" neytiri holds your hand, you didn't want to look at her. You were too overwhelmed. "Tell me what you are saying is not true. You love us, you love me and Jake. We can work this out." neytiri makes you look at her. She knew you were right, but she couldn't let you go. Let one of her children go away. "I can't stand jake" you yell a little. Neytiri stands there in silence, she knew you weren't really saying it, you loved Jake. Something was happening to you. "You are not serious" neytiri sounded sad. "Ney…let's go away, the two of us, let's go back home. I need to be home" you start crying, the more you talk. Neytiri pulls you to her chest, wrapping you in a very tight hug. "Ma y/n…be calm. I miss our home too" says neytiri. Sitting there, with you in her arms.she sensed something was happening to you, something in you was changing, you weren't like that. Meanwhile, Jake was not far from you. He felt so bad…this was his fault.

"Do you think mom will leave us?" tuk looks at neteyam and kiri. The group of kids had been spying on their parents, when they saw lo'ak come out of the marui. The boy was sitting next to neteyam. He was still teary-eyed. "Well I'm going to my mama's," said lo'ak, he was upset. "I…I don't know. But I don't want mom to leave" neteyam looks back inside the marui. This is the first time he has seen his parents argue like this.

P.s I promise I will upload the next part soon. But I would like to know what you guys think so far. And what do you think is going to happen?

Tag: @baybaybear1@hoodiepandaninja16@teyyyteyyy@anika-rose-walker@victoria2054 @raviolisblog @jessi-dan@neteyams-wh0re@jimfiqs@bitchykittenconnoisseur@chershire23@holynightnacho@danilezilla @thepotatoislost

[estrellami-1]

Growing Young

The BIGGEST of happy birthdays to my spouse @gloomysoup !!! You are an absolute DELIGHT to know and I’m so sorry this is late 😭 I’m in love with you and we are going to run away and be very happy together. ❤️

Eddie wants it put on the record that he didn’t run this time. Well, he did, but it was only to lead the bats away from Dustin, and he cycled more than ran, anyways.

Not that the semantics matter when Dustin’s kneeling beside him and sounds are getting echoey.

Dustin yells for Steve, and Eddie wants to tell him it’s no use, Steve can’t hear, he’s too far away, except here he comes like an action hero, sliding in like it’s third fucking base. Damn Wayne and his sports shows, Eddie’s not supposed to know any of that.

“Hey,” Steve says, clear as a bell in Eddie’s addled brain. “Thought I told you not to be a hero.” He looks off, tells someone to get Dustin out, now, before returning his attention back to Eddie. “You’re gonna make it, y’hear me?”

“Dunno,” Eddie says, gasps for breath. Coughs up blood, if the new wet feeling in his mouth is any indication. “‘M not- not cold, anymore, y’know that’s worse, ‘s okay ‘f I don’t-”

“Shut up,” Steve hisses. “Actually, no, keep talking, stay awake. This is gonna hurt like a bitch but I’ve gotta get you outta here. If you’re gonna throw up, please don’t throw up on me.”

Eddie’s brain is lagging full seconds behind, so by the time Steve’s words process, he’s already being lifted.

He doesn’t throw up, but it’s a close thing. “You’re gonna be okay,” Steve tells him again.

He wakes up from the weirdest dream of his fucking life to his alarm and realizes three things in quick succession.

One: that’s not his alarm. It’s a heart monitor.

Two: he’s in a hospital.

Three: it was not, in fact, a dream.

As he finishes categorizing these things, Steve walks in, doing a double-take when he realizes Eddie’s awake. “Oh, holy shit,” he whispers, freezing for a second before darting back out.

He’s back a minute later with Wayne in tow.

Eddie would like it stricken from the record that he cried like a baby upon seeing Wayne. The record can keep the fact that Wayne cried upon seeing him, though.

“Uncle Wayne,” he whispers. He can’t move his arms enough to wipe his face, so he’s just laying there with tears running down his cheeks, undoubtedly making a terrible face. But Wayne’s an ugly crier, too, so they’re just sitting there, crying, making ugly faces at each other.

They eventually calm down and realize at the same time that Steve’s standing awkwardly by the door. “Sorry,” he says, like any of this is somehow his fault. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Wayne pulls himself together, gestures at a seat across from him. “You ain’t interruptin’, son. You saved my boy’s life. Far as I’m concerned, you got any right you want t’be here right now.”

Steve ducks his head. “I didn’t really- I mean, he was just… passed out, the doctors did the saving.”

“Sure,” Eddie says quietly, “but you got me outta there.” He glances over at the seat, a smile flickering on his face. “C’mon.”

“If you’re sure.” Steve matches his volume, takes the chair. Moves a book onto his lap.

Eddie notices, glances at it. “What’s that?”

Steve colors. “Oh, uh…” he holds it up for Eddie to see. The Lord of the Rings. “Dustin and I have been taking turns reading, just in case you could hear while you were under.”

Eddie pouts. “No, but I wish I could’ve.”

Wayne bursts out laughing. “Well damn, Ed, he ain’t killed your puppy. Fact, I’d bed he’d read t’you right now iffen y’asked him.” He stands, grabs Eddie’s hand and squeezes. It’s the one part of him that doesn’t hurt, but it still makes tears threaten to fall. “I’ve gotta get to work. Y’gonna be alright, son?”

Eddie smiles, does his best to squeeze Wayne’s fingers back. “I’ll be fine, Pops.”

Wayne leaves, and Steve opens the book, pausing halfway through trying to find his page. “D’you want me to start at the beginning?”

Eddie smiles at him. “‘S alright. I’ve read it so many times, you can start from wherever. I won’t be lost.”

Steve nods, flips through a few more pages. Fingers a corner, works his lip between his teeth. “I, uh… Dustin does voices. I’m… not good at that. And I’m probably gonna say half the names wrong.”

“‘S alright,” Eddie promises him. “‘Sides, it’s a made-up book with a made-up language. Maybe you’re saying it right and everyone else is saying it wrong.”

Steve snorts. “I doubt the author is saying it wrong,” he retorts, but settles back in his chair and begins to read.

A couple pages later, Steve stumbles over a few words in a row and shuts the book, grimacing as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, man,” he murmurs. “I’d read more if I could, but I need to be able to drive home.”

Eddie frowns. “Reading’s hard for you?”

Steve rolls his eyes. It’s more of a self-deprecating thing than anything else. “I’ve had… four? Five? Concussions. I wasn’t the best reader before that. It’s definitely gotten worse. Too much and it’ll trigger a migraine.”

Eddie’s frown deepens. “Is there- something you could take? A prescription? Or- or some kind of help?”

Steve colors. “There’s something,” he admits. “I just… don’t like wearing them.”

Eddie’s frown turns curious. “Wearing them?”

Steve nods. Won’t look at Eddie. “Glasses. I just… don’t like the way they look on me.”

“Have you-” he’s interrupted by a cough, and Steve rushes to hand him water. “Thanks,” he rasps out after a couple sips, then clears his throat. “Can you get different frames?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I did. These are the ones I hated the least.”

“Could I see them?” Eddie requests. “If you- if you’re here tomorrow. Would you bring them?”

Steve looks at him for a long second. “Sure,” he finally says. “I’ll be here tomorrow. And I’ll bring them.”

Eddie smiles at him. Steve smiles back, and leaves.

He arrives the next day while Dustin’s there. He leans in the doorway, crossing his arms and smiling at the scene. “Hey, dipshit,” he calls.

“Hey, Steve,” Dustin says back. “Anyways, so Mike was really stuck, right? So he decided-”

“Hey, dipshit,” Steve says again, jerking his head back. “Your ma’s out front.”

“Oh!” Dustin jumps up, gathering his things. “Okay, Eddie, don’t let me forget!” He calls over his shoulder, pointing at Eddie, almost running into the door before Steve nudges him out of the way.

He’s chuckling when he sinks into the chair Dustin had just vacated. “That kid.”

“He’s pretty good, isn’t he.”

“He really is.” He shifts uncomfortably for a second, pulls the book onto his lap, and sighs. “Just… I know I look stupid, okay? Just please don’t laugh.”

“Never,” Eddie swears immediately.

Steve pulls the glasses out of his pocket and puts them on, blinking at Eddie through the lenses as his eyes adjust. “Well?”

“They look good,” Eddie tells him immediately.

“Don’t-” Steve takes a breath, looks away. “We… we’ve been flirting. Right?”

Eddie’s heart rabbits in his chest. “I can stop.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, just… just tell me the truth.”

“The truth?” Eddie murmurs. “Sweetheart, the truth is if you’d been my teacher, wearing those glasses, I would’ve graduated the first time with fucking honors.”

Steve’s cheeks are pink. “You mean it?”

“Every word,” Eddie swears. “Why don’t you think so? Did someone say something? Was it one of the kids? Because I will kick them out of Hellfire until the end of the campaign-”

“No- Eddie,” Steve laughs. “No, it wasn’t the kids. It wasn’t anyone. I just… don’t think I look good.”

“Well you do,” Eddie returns, mildly affronted. “Don’t look good,” he grumbles, halfway under his breath. “Honestly.” It gets a laugh out of Steve, which is what he was going for. “Can I ask you for something that’s probably way out of line?”

Steve blinks. “You… can ask me, sure. Doesn’t mean I have to listen.”

“Guess so,” Eddie chuckles. It turns into a cough, which makes Steve get up, but Eddie waves him down. “Can I ask you to wear your glasses whenever you need to? And tell me if anyone says something, because again, I will kick the kids out of Hellfire until the end of the campaign. Just say the word, and they’re out.”

“You don’t have to do that for me.”

“I don’t have to do anything. I’m doing it because I want to. Because you’re worth it.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees quietly.

“Good,” Eddie agrees nonsensically.

With that, Steve opens the book and begins to read. He gets through quite a few more pages than the day before, but does eventually stop, rubbing his brows. “Sorry,” he says, “Guess I still can’t read much even with the glasses on.”

“That’s okay,” Eddie murmurs. “Do you like reading? Or are you reading for my sake?”

Steve rubs the back of his neck. “Mostly for your sake,” he admits. “I don’t like reading as much as you do, or as much as Dustin does. But I want to know what you like. I want to understand what you like. And I feel like reading is the best way to do that.”

“Makes sense,” Eddie replies, “but you know you don’t have to, right? I’d like you even if you never picked up another book again.”

Steve grins, a small, shy thing. “You like me?” He teases.

“I do,” Eddie murmurs. “I thought – I thought we-”

“No,” Steve interrupts, “we are. We do. Or I do, I don’t know–”

“I do, too,” Eddie promises. “Just… Maybe when I’m out of the hospital?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, “of course. Do you have any news on when you get out?”

“Not yet, but hopefully I’ll know soon. I just don’t know what I’m going to do when I get out… I can’t even lift my arms to feed myself. And if I get out soon, before I’ve healed enough…”

“I get it,” Steve swears. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Okay,” Eddie agrees softly. “Okay.”

“I don’t think I can read anymore today,” Steve says, “but I can stay for a bit if you want company.”

“Please,” Eddie agrees, far too quickly, except it makes Steve blush and smile, and Eddie would make himself the fool a hundred times over to make Steve smile.

They decide to watch TV. At some point their hands end up intertwined, and Eddie wants to stay awake, he really does, but he’s still pretty broken, and he finds himself waking up when Steve pulls away. “Sorry,” Steve whispers, “I didn’t wanna wake you.”

Eddie wakes himself up more, makes some kind of groaning noise that he’s pretty sure he’s heard Wayne make before. “‘S okay,” he mumbles, twitching his fingers to pull Steve closer. “Wan’ed’a be ‘wake.”

“It’s okay,” Steve swears. “You need the rest.”

Eddie hums, lets his eyes slip shut. Lets Steve pull his fingers from Eddie’s limp grasp. “Wan’ you t’wear the glasses,” he murmurs. He hears Steve pause as he gathers his things.

“I will,” Steve whispers. “Promise. I’ve got them on right now.”

“Good,” Eddie mumbles, and falls asleep before Steve’s even out of the room.

The doctor comes in a few days later to talk to Eddie while Steve’s there, once again reading to him. “My apologies,” the doctor says. “I’ve got some information for Mr. Munson, if you wouldn’t mind stepping out for a moment.”

“He can stay,” Eddie says before Steve can move. Steve blinks at him, and Eddie nods, inclining his chin down to the chair Steve’s practically levitating in. Steve shifts his weight, sits back down.

“Very well,” the doctor says. “I’ve got good news for you, Mr. Munson, as long as you’ve got someone to look after you, you’ll be free to go as soon as your guardian arrives.” He shuffles a few papers around. “We’ve got some painkillers for you, as well as a round of antibiotics.” He offers the papers to Eddie. Steve takes them, puts them on the chair beside him. “Your wraps will need to be changed once a day and stay dry for another two weeks, so sponge baths only. After that, your wraps can come off while you shower, then be put back on as soon as your skin is dry. If you have any questions once you’ve been released, there’s a number on the paper you can call at any time. If you pop a stitch, come back in. If you have any adverse reactions to the medication, come back in. If you pass out or throw up repeatedly, come back in. If your wounds look inflamed or infected, come back in. Understand?”

Eddie nods, biting his lip. “My guardian- my uncle. He works. I-”

“He’ll have someone to look after him,” Steve interrupts, looking up at the doctor.

The doctor looks between them, then nods. “Very well then. A nurse will come in and make sure you’re okay to be released. As soon as your uncle is here, you’re free to go.” He smiles. “As much as you’ve been a model patient, I hope to never see you again.”

Eddie snorts. “You too, Doc.” He looks over at Steve as the doctor leaves, raises a brow. “I got someone to look after me?”

Steve colors, looks down. “The, uh. The trailer was…”

Eddie winces. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” A sigh. “And the government’s dragging their feet about getting you guys another place. I offered up my place to Wayne. He’s been staying there since… well, since we got back topside. There’s more than enough room for the three of us.”

Eddie grins. “And this has nothing to do with you liking me, right?”

“I mean,” Steve shrugs, “I wouldn’t say nothing.”

They spend a long minute looking at each other before Steve looks back down at the open book in his lap.

Wayne arrives not too much later, just after the nurse finishes her duties. He grins at his nephew, finally freed from all the wires and tubes. “Y’ready to go?”

“Please,” Eddie agrees, looking at Steve. “I know my legs are generally fine, but just in case-”

Steve moves around the bed to stand next to him. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, and Eddie believes him.

They get Eddie out of the hospital, into Wayne’s truck, and back to Steve’s house. “Welcome home,” Wayne deadpans, but Eddie can hear the slightest note of pride in Wayne’s gruff voice. He likes living here.

Eddie thinks he will, too.

“Your bedroom’s upstairs,” Steve murmurs. “The only bedroom down here is my parents’.”

“I’ll take the upstairs bedroom,” Eddie agrees, looking up at the aforementioned stairs. “Might need some help, though.”

“I can help,” Steve agrees. “Let’s see how much you can do by yourself first, though.”

The bannister is just about elbow height, so Eddie’s able to grab it and use it for support. He gets a third of the way up before he’s gritting his teeth, then halfway up before he shakes his head. “I can’t.”

“You did great,” Steve tells him, then picks him up bridal-style.

Eddie squawks, causing Wayne to laugh at him. He raises his hand just enough to flip Wayne off, then focuses on not making a fool of himself while Steve carries him upstairs.

“First room’s mine,” Steve tells him, nodding towards his door as he carefully sets Eddie down. “Wayne’s is two doors down, and yours will be here, between us.” He points towards a room, and Eddie walks towards it.

Walking on flat ground is a lot easier than walking up stairs, but he’s still pretty injured, so he’s glad for the chance to sit down on his bed when he gets into his room.

“Now,” Steve says, “way I see it, you’ve got three options.”

“Oh? And what would those be?”

“Sleep, eat, or bathe.” He gives Eddie a tiny grin. “I know you’ll need help with the last one. If you’d rather your uncle do it, I understand, but I’m willing.”

Eddie glances over at the en-suite, bites his lip, and shakes his head. “I think… if you’re willing. I think I’d prefer you.”

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t completely serious.” He holds his hands out, offering Eddie help getting up. He takes it and leverages himself up, and together they walk into the bathroom.

“Sponge bath,” Steve murmurs, recalling the doctor’s words. “There should be a washcloth in here somewhere.” He gestures for Eddie to sit on the toilet for the time being, rooting around in the cabinets until he comes up with a wash cloth, shouting a triumphant, “Aha!” And waving it around like a flag.

“Man,” Eddie says, “I can’t believe anyone ever thought you were cool.”

“Fuck you, I am cool.”

“You’re a complete nerd, Stevie.”

Steve flips him off, tests the water temperature, nods. “Need help undressing?”

Eddie grimaces. ���Probably.”

“That’s alright. Anything you can or want to do yourself?”

Eddie focuses on his jeans first. They unbutton and unzip just fine, and Eddie can get them most of the way over his hips, but he eventually gives up with a sigh. “‘M sorry,” he murmurs.

“I volunteered,” Steve reminds him, helping him out of his pants.

He quickly undresses Eddie the rest of the way and alternates between two cloths, one wet and soapy and one dry, so he doesn’t get the bandages wet. He zones out halfway through, glancing over at the sink multiple times.

The last time he does, Eddie gently taps him on the forehead. “I’d say penny for your thoughts, but I don’t think I have a penny.”

Steve chuckles, grins up at Eddie. “Then it’s a good think I’ll give them to you for free.” His smile turns smaller, more genuine. “I was wondering if there was a way to get a chair in here so we could wash your hair.”

“Oh,” Eddie murmurs, because it had been far too long since he’d last washed his hair. “That would be really nice.”

“Then I’ll find a way to do it,” Steve swears. “But I think the chair will work. Once you’re dressed again, I’ll go get it.”

He finishes bathing Eddie, helps him into clean clothes, and guides him back to the toilet. “Wait here,” he tells him, and runs out of the room in search of a chair.

He finds one that’s roughly the right height and brings it back, draping a towel over the edge of the sink for cushion, gesturing Eddie over and holding his hair up as he gets situated.

He starts washing, and it’s different in the sink, with a faucet that doesn’t move and is so close to the basin, but he makes do; cups warm-almost-hot water in his hands, lets it dribble over Eddie’s scalp.

He massages the shampoo in and Eddie hums. He rakes his fingers through the ends of Eddie’s hair, lathered with conditioner, and Eddie makes a breathless little sound.

Steve’s breath catches in his throat and he stills. “Good or bad sound?”

Another hum. “Good. Sorry. Jus’… relaxed.”

“‘S alright,” Steve murmurs back. “Just making sure.”

“‘S good,” Eddie promises, voice barely a whisper now.

“I’m glad,” Steve whispers back, and finishes washing his hair in silence.

Eddie’s tired after, eyes slipping shut even as he sits up in the chair and Steve dries his hair, so Steve takes mercy on him when his hair is half dry and leads him to bed. “Take a nap,” he whispers. “I’ll clean up and be out of your hair. I’ll be in my room with the door open if you need anything.”

Eddie hums, eyes slipping shut again as he grabs at Steve’s hand. “Stay?”

“Okay,” he agrees. “Just let me throw the towels in the hamper.”

Eddie hums, hand dropping back down to the bed and eyes slitting open as he watches Steve walk to the bathroom.

He’s back less than a minute later, smiling at Eddie as he tries to stay awake. “Go to sleep,” he laughs, sliding in between the sheets next to Eddie. “I’m here. I’m not leaving. Now sleep.”

Eddie lets his eyes close as he moves his hand under the sheets, searching for Steve’s. When he finds it, he grabs and squeezes it, just once, and falls asleep.

Steve doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but there’s not much keeping him awake. He awakens later to Eddie trying to leverage himself out of bed.

He sits up with a snort, blinking at Eddie. “What’re you doing?”

Eddie tosses an apologetic look over his shoulder. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to wake you. I just needed to use the bathroom.”

Steve hums, stands, walks over to Eddie and helps him up. “I don’t mind you waking me. I’d actually prefer you did, instead of popping your stitches.” He grins, pokes at a bit of Eddie’s side that he knows is unharmed.

Eddie grins back, wide and happy. “I’ve gotta learn. ‘S not like this arrangement is gonna continue. You’ve got your bed and I’ve got mine.”

“It could,” Steve considers. “What if you’re trying to get up in the middle of the night and can’t? What if you have a nightmare and thrash around and pop a stitch?”

“What if you barely sleep because you’re not used to another person in bed with you?”

“What if,” Steve whispers, “that nap was the most restful sleep I’ve gotten in a while?”

“Really?”

Steve looks down, realizes he’s still holding Eddie’s hands. He lets go, takes a step back. Doesn’t look up; he knows his face is burning. “Really.” He flicks his chin over to the bathroom. “Go ahead. I’ll help you downstairs after, it’s almost dinner time.”

Eddie doesn’t move for a minute. Steve chances a glance up at him, and his breath catches at the naked affection staring back at him.

It’s only after Steve looks up at him that Eddie moves, stumbling over to the bathroom and quickly finishing up. Steve stands still, staring at where the sheets are messed up. Two spots. He’s not used to that in his bed. Even when he’d have girls over, none of them wanted to stay the night. Even Nancy left.

But here he is, in a room in his house that isn’t actually his, with a guy, and they’ve been flirting with each other, and-

He thinks he needs to call Robin.

He thinks, as Eddie emerges from the bathroom and smiles at him, he knows exactly what he’s feeling, and doesn’t need to call Robin after all.

They make their way downstairs and Steve settles on a simple pasta dinner. Eddie somehow wiggles his way up onto the counter, and sits beside the stovetop, kicking his leg out and occasionally hitting Steve’s thigh. Steve always glances at him when he does, and it becomes a game, and soon enough they’re both giggling as Steve dumps the pasta into the boiling water.

The water splashes, and Eddie hisses, jerking his arm away and rubbing at it. Steve looks up, worried. “Did it get you?”

Eddie waves him off, nudging his thigh with his foot again. “‘M alright. Not even a mark, ‘s just hot.”

“Still,” Steve says, and steps closer. “Can I see?”

Eddie stares at him for a minute. Offers him his arm.

He’s right. There’s no mark apart from an old scar, years old and years healed. Steve’s hand comes up, and his thumb strokes the scar, then down a little, towards his elbow. “Well?” Eddie asks teasingly. “What’s the prognosis, doc?”

Steve stares at him flatly, playing into it. “You’ll live,” he says, completely deadpan, grinning when Eddie giggles. He bumps Eddie’s knee with his hip, moves away to collect plates and silverware. “Make yourself useful and stir the pasta, would you?”

Eddie sticks his tongue out but picks up the spoon and does as he’s asked.

And so it goes. They’re mostly left unattended, as Wayne is usually at work, but sometimes he’ll sit on the couch with Steve and they’ll watch football or baseball, much to the chagrin of Eddie, who takes every opportunity possible to bemoan the existence of sports for stealing Steve’s attention away from him.

Steve doesn’t tell him that even when his eyes are on the TV, his mind is on Eddie. He’s well aware he falls too fast, too hard.

He helps Eddie up and down the stairs. He gives him sponge baths and washes his hair. Eventually his wounds begin to heal, and he’s able to get up and down the stairs on his own, if not a lot slower than usual.

He starts taking quick showers on his own. Steve still washes his hair in the sink, and now he helps Eddie change his bandages after he showers.

One day, Eddie hesitates on the edge of the bathroom threshold. “I don’t…” he looks away, bites his lip. Puts his arms up, tousles the top of his hair to prove his point. “I can do it on my own now.”

“Oh,” Steve says, feeling strangely heartbroken. “Right, yeah, that’s great. I’ll just, uh-” he takes a step back, angles his thumb behind him.

Eddie jerks forward, wraps his fingers around Steve’s wrist. “But you could help? If you wanted?”

Steve tugs Eddie over to the bed, sits on the edge. Doesn’t say anything until Eddie sits, too. He plays with the frame of his glasses as he says, “You’ve been flirting with me.” Eddie lets go of his wrist. Steve tries not to miss it. “It’s… it’s okay. You don’t have to stop. I just need you to be honest with me.”

“Anything,” Eddie whispers, and Steve drops his voice to match.

“Do you mean it? Or are you just flirting because you can?”

“Baby,” Eddie murmurs, bringing a hand up to cup Steve’s jaw, and oh, Steve thinks.

Oh.

“Really?” He whispers, and Eddie nods.

“Really.”

“I can’t,” Steve murmurs. “I can’t do this if you just like me. If this is… is gonna be a fling, or whatever.”

“Baby,” Eddie murmurs again. “I’ve long since healed enough to sleep alone. I don’t want to. I want to wake up to your face every day. I want to bring you your glasses when you forget them, I want to stir your pasta sauces and annoy you in the kitchen until you threaten to throw me out, even if we both know you never will. I want to be the one you come home to every day, the one you turn to when you need support. I want you to feel safe with me the way I do with you.” His thumb strokes Steve’s cheek, wiping away a tear. “Because I do. I feel safe with you. You make me feel safe. You- baby.” He strokes Steve’s cheek again, studies his eyes. “Baby. Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Steve gasps, and Eddie does.

He leans in slowly, enough time for Steve to close his eyes and part his lips the barest amount, not out of any desire to tease, but just because he’s feeling so much he can’t contain it all, and it has to come out in gasps and breaths and small, shaky moans, when Eddie licks into his mouth, pulls his tongue into a tango, back and forth and in and out until Steve’s positively dizzy with it.

He pulls back just to tilt his head the other way and dive in with just as much fervor, sucking Steve’s bottom lip into his mouth, nipping at it until it’s swollen and tender and Steve feels like he could float away.

Steve breaks the kiss first, dizzy and panting and overwhelmed, leaning forward and pulling Eddie into a hug. “I’m so glad,” he murmurs. “I didn’t think…”

“Of course I would,” Eddie mutters back, holding Steve tight. “Of course I would, baby. Didn’t have a chance, really, was just gone on you from the moment I saw you.”

Steve pulls back, tugs Eddie down until they’re both laying down, halfway on the bed, noses nearly brushing. “And you want me to… to help?”

Eddie grins big enough his eyes are slits. “I’m gonna be honest here, sweetheart, I definitely imagined help would come after.”

Steve giggles back, leans in to steal a peck of a kiss. “I can do that,” he agrees, standing up and pulling Eddie to the bathroom.

They’re both laughing like little kids as they go, and a part of Steve wonders if that’s what falling in love is: growing young again.

[musette22]

What if, one Avengers movie night at the tower, the team decides to watch Four Weddings and a Funeral because Steve and Bucky have never seen it, and apparently, that's shocking.

Steve has been kind of quiet all evening, not joining in with the usual banter or even munching on popcorn like the rest of them, just watching the screen silently and sitting very still.

Two weddings come and go, and then, it's time for the titular funeral.

"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone," the pale Scottish man recites W.H. Auden's poem, visibly overcome with emotion as he remembers his deceased beloved.

He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good.

The poem's final words hang in the air for a moment, bleak and heavy with sadness, and then suddenly, Steve makes a sound. It's not intentional, he just can't seem to stop it. Like the wave that's been building inside of him, quietly but inexorably mounting higher and higher, finally crests. A sob escapes him, sounding like it's torn from his chest, harsh and incongruent in the heavy silence of the room - and then, he starts to cry uncontrollably.

All heads swivel in his direction, surprised at the sudden outburst, but it’s just Bucky who is up like a shot, immediately reaching out for Steve. Steve curls in on himself, trying to hide his face in his hands, his whole body shaking with heaving breaths and big, ugly sobs.

“Oh, Steve, Stevie, hey." Bucky's hands are on Steve's shoulders; soothing, anchoring. “It’s okay. You’re okay, hey, sshhh.”

The words don't seem to register, bouncing uselessly off the wall of sorrow surrounding Steve, so Bucky wraps his arms around Steve's shaking frame instead and pulls him in, close to his chest. Steve resists for half a second before he melts into it, hugging Bucky back tightly, desperately, clinging hard enough to crack a rib in someone not enhanced.

“You were d-dead,” Steve chokes out, in between sobs. “You were dead and I – I m-mourned you. Bucky, I couldn't... I w-wasn't - Buck- Bucky.”

The last iteration of his name resembles a wail more than a word, heartwrenching, cutting right through Bucky's bones.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says, inadequately, miserably. “I’m so sorry.” He rubs Steve’s back, over and over, shivering when Steve buries his nose in the crook of his neck, like he wants to burrow under Bucky's skin. Bucky presses his cheek against Steve's hair, trying to give Steve the comfort he's finally admitting to needing. "I’m here now. We’re both here. I’m never leaving you again, Steve. Never again, I promise.”

This time, the words get through to Steve, but instead of calming him down, they just make him weep even harder. He cries and cries until finally, his entire, big body shudders in Bucky's arms and some of that awful tension finally drains from his shoulders.

When his grip on Bucky loosens a little, Bucky pulls back to look at him. Steve’s face is blotchy red and wet, but his eyes are like cut diamonds, deep blue and bright with tears and emotion. He is, without a shadow of a doubt, the most beautiful thing Bucky has ever seen. Slowly, Bucky lifts a hand to Steve’s face, gently brushing his bangs away from his forehead. Apart from the occasional aftershock, Steve stays still, arms still wrapped around Bucky’s waist, their faces only inches apart. Steve's face, usually so controlled, is now wide open, love and adoration and awe all right there on the surface, plain for anyone to see.

Steve looks at him like Bucky hung the moon, like he’s his North and South and East and West, and Bucky feels too small to warrant it all, small but solid like a gem, precious and cherished in the face of Steve’s devotion.

When Steve’s eyes flick down to his mouth and linger there, his gaze rapt, transfixed, Bucky's heart trips. They haven't -- not since Bucky came back to Steve, not in this century, and Bucky hadn't been sure he'd remembered right, but now... Bucky's lips part on a soft, stunned gasp, and then before he can so much as blink, Steve surges up and presses his own lips against Bucky's. Bucky gasps again, arms coming up to take Steve's face in his hands, cradling it tenderly in his palms, metal and flesh alike.

The kiss is as much a thrilling, breathtaking culmination of years of silent yearning as it is the easiest, most obvious thing in the world. It makes everything that's felt just slightly off-balance over the past seventy-odd years finally right itself, pieces falling into place, the red thread of fate untangling itself and smoothing out, stretching taught and vibrant between them.

They're not sure how long they stay there like that, wrapped up in each other, revelling in the feeling of finally being together, being whole again. But when they finally break apart, Steve's eyes are closed and his face serene, finally at peace. He hums softly when Bucky rests his forehead against Steve's and rubs them together, lightly, comforting. The room around them is silent, the TV turned off, everyone else gone.

There'll be curiosity later, gentle teasing and well-intentioned demands for explanations, and that's alright. But for now, it's just Bucky and Steve, and a love that burns as bright and all consuming as the sun, as endless as the moon and stars.