#i will admit that maybe its for the best that i hit the cap because uh. i have a cap of an enemy in this game called 'trans murder'

[thanksvideogames]

vesperia screenshot dump no.4: i beat the game edition :)

check img descriptions for thoughts and context

[thetalee]

Not a Date

A Born for Adversity one-shot, in which we see Daniel and Austin in the middle of something that looks like, but most definitely isn't, a date.

It was late, by the time they walked out of the theater. It wasn’t quiet, because Los Angeles was never quiet. Especially with the crowd of moviegoers that came out with them, laughing and talking. The parking lot was filled with both people and cars.

There was a guy on the phone, a lit cigarette in hand, that they had to go past. Daniel made a face as the smell reached him, heartbeat picking up its pace just from association. Austin, bless him, threw an arm around his shoulders and kept them moving.

“So,” Daniel said, doing his best to put the stranger and his cigarette out of his mind. He threw Austin a grin. “Did I do good?”

“Eh, I guess,” the other man hedged, laughing when Daniel shoved at him. “Fine, yes, thank you for taking me.”

The movie they’d just come out of was the newest Dungeons & Dragons movie. It wasn’t opening night, but it hadn’t been showing in theaters for very many days. Daniel knew that Austin would enjoy it, all things considered. Daniel himself never quite got into the game, but that didn’t stop him from getting involved for Austin’s sake. That was how he ended up sitting down at the table with Austin and his older nephews and niece, blindly stumbling through it. 

The movie was entertaining enough, though he was certain he missed things that only nerds like Austin would catch. There was something about cartoon characters showing up, for instance, that Daniel didn’t know anything about. Honestly, he probably spent as much time watching Austin watch the movie, as he did watching the movie himself.

“The giant tub of popcorn wasn’t filling enough,” Daniel complained, checking his watch for the time. “I think there’s a Denny’s down the road, it should still be open. Wanna grab a bite instead of heading home?”

“You drove us here,” Austin pointed out, which translated into, “Sure.”

The Denny’s wasn’t that far, and so it didn’t take them long to pull into the parking lot and get inside. While Los Angeles wasn’t the City That Never Sleeps by any means, it was still home to plenty of people that lived odd hours. There were several others in the dining room that were either eating or waiting for their food when they were shown to a table.

“There’s something about a greasy burger that hits differently after midnight,” Daniel said, drumming his fingers on the tabletop as he waited for the waitress to come back with their drinks.

“That would be the indigestion,” Austin quipped, looking through the menu.

“Nah, I only get that if I’ve pissed off Buck and let him near my food,” Daniel said. “I used to do this with Buck and Eddie all the time, back in El Paso.”

“Go to Denny’s in the middle of the night?”

“Whataburger, actually. It’s open twenty-four hours, which is another reason why it’s better than In-n-Out.”

Austin rolled his eyes. It was a long-standing argument by this point, with neither admitting defeat. Even after Daniel took advantage of them being back in Texas for the wildfires to drag Austin to a Whataburger. The man just said that it was “okay.” Like an asshole.

“But I’d take them out, maybe once or twice a month, whenever I was between twenty-fours and Eddie was over.”

“How is Buck doing, anyways?” Austin asked, setting down the menu. “Cap mentioned something about him being cleared to come back, but that’s about it.”

“Well enough that he’s getting annoyed with Maddie.” Their sister, in an effort to mother hen by proxy, apparently had a rotating selection of people to go over and check on Buck whenever Eddie was on shift. “He’s started hiding out in his old bedroom, Carla’s even bringing Chris over, after he gets out of school.”

Austin let out a snort and shook his head, before opening his mouth to say something else. He was distracted, however, by the waitress arriving with their drinks and to take their orders.

“What about you, though?” he asked, once she was gone. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” Daniel said with his brightest smile.

Austin just stared at him.

Maybe, just maybe, Daniel hadn’t reacted the best to Buck being struck by lightning. To his baby brother being dead for three minutes and change. But that was then! And this is now! He was perfectly okay now.

“I am!” Daniel said, hearing the whine in his own voice.

“Right.” Austin didn’t believe him. He also didn’t believe that Whataburger was superior to In-n-Out, so his opinions were questionable at best. “I’m just worried, Dan. You don’t exactly have the best record when it comes to taking care of yourself.”

Daniel ducked his head, unable to look Austin in the eye after a statement like that. The three little - huge - words were lodged in his throat, as they had been for years now. It would be so easy for him to say them. But he knew they’d just fall flat onto the table between them. 

At best, Austin would barely flinch, he would take them and say thank you. At worst, he’d be uncomfortable. Guilty, even. Because he did not feel the same as Daniel did, and he never would. There was no changing that.

“What was this I heard about Nash setting fire to a rehab place?” was what came out of his mouth instead, squeezing their way out.

“Yeah, so, he went and played investigator again…”

[adultswim2021]

Tim And Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! #22: “Chan” | August 4, 2008 - 12:30AM | S03E02

Hot off the heels of what I maintain is the single worst episode of Awesome Show comes “Chan”, which I maintain is one of their best. Solid humor throughout, and the slighter bits are propped up by the stronger things in the show. THIS is Tim & Eric, baby! 

Chan is named after one of the running bits in the episode that kicks off with the cold open, which announces that Channel 5 is celebrating “100 Years of Jackie Chan”. The way they do this is by having sketch characters as well as their cadre of weirdo outsiders deliver stilted and awkward compliments to the camera as if addressing Chan himself. This is capped off with Jan Skyler admitting “and I think you’re cute” while Wayne who acts performatively miffed. I quote that line, which sorta requires performing it just like Jan, on a regular basis. It is sickening. 

A lot of the Chan testimonial lines are strong, but towards the end of the episode they show Richard Dunn who delivers maybe my favorite line of the episode: “If I had another father I would love to have you my father cuz I love the way you’d make me grow up!” The concept of having an old man ask a younger old man to be his father, the garbled delivery, the nonsense sentiment of loving the way someone hypothetically “making” you grow up... hell, the little graphical flourish of having Dunn’s face roll away in a CGI coin for no reason make this moment so goddamn sublime.

There’s a memorable commercial starring the Tiny Hat crew (right? I’m sorta shooting from my hip on this one and don’t feel like looking it up). They play a board game called “It’s Not Jackie Chan”. The idea is that Jackie Chan permeates the average American’s thoughts to such a degree that accidentally answering Jackie Chan in a game where the answer is never Jackie Chan is inevitable, just like death and being dead. The commercial ends with a great gag where one of the players slams the “wrong” buzzer and won’t let go of it, eventually staring down the camera as his cheery advertising smile fades into a frown. This one hits, big time. 

Zit talk is maybe the weak link here, but only because of how simple and small in scale the whole thing is; it’s just Tim and Eric talking about dealing with zits, showing stills that purport to show their actual zits that wound up appearing on camera. This seems pretty improvised, and it’s funny enough. One of the stills is from either shooting the Tom Goes to the Mayor sketch from season two or from one of the deleted segments from said sketch. I was curious, and actually looked at that sketch on streaming, and the particular shot they showed the still of doesn’t seem to be in the finished episode. Eric does indeed have a small spot like in the still, but it’s much less pronounced in the video footage I saw, so either makeup or photoshop was involved in the discrepancy. 

Quilting with Will is pretty good, too. I think this is a better sketch than the Lazy Horse mattress sketch. Will is good at visceral intensity while becoming unhinged. At its weakest, you just feel like Will is simply doing the thing he does. But there are some really inspired moments in this, like the insert shot of him pretending to lay in his coffin. The weak link of the sketch might be the older woman, Lynette, whose attempts to improv thwart the very funny things Forte is saying. In a lot of shots, you can hear little wisps of her dialogue clipped off, meaning they had to cut around her lines with very close edits. She says “TMI” at one point. Bad instincts, Lynette. This sketch has quite a bit in the deleted scenes on the DVD, and they are worth watching. I wish they deleted Zits to make this one longer. 

Steve Mahanahan’s commercial (or perhaps it’s an instructional video) for getting the most out of your child clown rental is really wonderful and unsettlingly creepy. The concept of child clowns, and the way Steve Mahanahan treats them (it’s literally child abuse with a coat of cheery paint slapped on it) was more digestible in the earlier sketches, but this one shows shot-on-degraded VHS footage of actual children dressed as clowns. It’s uncanny and uncomfortably real-seeming. So much so, that re-re Pizzagate believers (unlike me who believes in Pizzagate the CORRECT way) targeted Tim & Eric partially on the basis of this sketch. This targeting actually lead Tim to do an impromptu episode of his Office Hours show just to address this and try to explain the humor of it.

The proper Tim & Eric wraparound features Eric as the wealthy husband of a beautiful blonde sexpot played by Abbey Brooks, whom we saw in the Pizza Boy sketch from season one. Tim is a sleazy rat-tailed homewrecker who gleefully “bangs” her while Eric is away on driving business. Eric catches on and eventually disposes of his wife, puts on a blonde wig, and surprises Tim and kills him with a gun. These scenes are all punctuated by a soulful singer named Sire singing about “Sexual Romance”.

On paper, it’s fairly meager, and I can’t help but suspect Tim of just wanting to write a love scene with Abbey, even though his on-camera interactions with her are pretty tepid and above all else absurd and played for laughs. Censorship notes lead them to doing all kinds of things that only a little bit look like sex-having, which ultimately lead to a funny performance. The performances really do elevate this one, and I like when the Tim & Eric wraparounds are more like this and less “hosty”. I also think the end of the episode is one of Eric’s best moments, and it plays to his strengths with his naturalistic deadpan delivery. His face while shooting Tim is priceless, the final line is great because he's saying it. I also love the Silk-Stalkings-sounding end credits music. 

During the Valentines’ Day Watchalong, Tim and Eric said of the sketch that they were trying to exploit the LA lifestyle for comedy, by renting tacky mansions that are mostly used for freaking pornos. Tim also mentioned that Sire (who is actually a pretty talented singer), went on tour with Tim & Eric, and that Tim had recently sold Sire some antiques, so they still keep in touch to some degree. Speaking of commerce, Eric’s dad apparently tried to buy the car used in the sketch.

I remember this season being a step down generally speaking, but this one’s as good as any of the good episodes from previous seasons. There’s one more all-timer coming up this season, but I’m rusty on the rest. Am I excited, or what.

MAIL BAG

You don't even like the title of the episode, "Blaster of Both Worms", I think it's kinda cute.

"and I think he's cute" lol. To be honest, I didn't even really consider the title and my feelings for it, and I don't know if I even really get it. The second worm = his peenie? Answer me at once. But, I guess I like it. It sounds cool!

[ilexdiapason]

just got hit w the idea of false getting scared by say. sausage. he breaks into her house [as one does] and hes like "HI FALSE!" and she gets so jumpscared she teleports away and thats how sausage learns false is an enderman. this is also how false learns shes an enderman she did not know she could do that

Oh.

Oh, dear.

False is on the roof now.

She's not entirely sure how she got up there - and yes, by not entirely she means in no way whatsoever, but the specifics can wait while she's processing the situation. False is on the roof, and she's sliding incredibly slowly down the slope of it, because her boots are gripped for snow but not for copper plating, so while there's no immediate danger of falling she still ought to put some thought into stopping before said danger does become immediate. She's on the roof and grabbing at a shingle, tutting frustratedly when it slips out of lock under her fingers, grabbing again for a sturdier hold, eventually leaning up against the thing to gain some stability and letting her steel-capped toes click to a halt on the gutter of the roof-trim. She's on the roof and staying still. She's on the roof but safe.

Okay, part two. What's the last thing she remembers?

And, well - False can't exactly claim to have the best of memories here, okay, she'll admit that, this is her weak spot, but... she's got a pretty good bet going on the fact that her last memory being I'm in the hallway just inside my house and I'm putting a shulker away in my Ender chest and then Sausage's voice says HI FALSE and I start yelling is most likely not from the moment before this one. Largely because, well, that was in the hallway, and this is on the roof.

Time jump, then. Wouldn't be the first time.

The question of what happened inbetween her memory of crying out - a perfectly-cut scream in the highlight reel that is her choppy memory - and the present moment... that can honestly also wait until she works out how to get down.

"False, there you are!" Sausage's voice comes again, this time circling above her, elytra-loft. "What the heck was that?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," she laughs nervously.

"I mean, I was just talking to you, and then you turned around and you were all AHHH, and then you disappeared in a puff of little purple particles! Do you have a stasis chamber set up or something?"

"A what?" The phrase does ring a bell, but she definitely hasn't encountered a stasis chamber in living memory. Maybe she should ask about that. It sounds like it'd be something really useful.

"Hmmm," Sausage muses, having come to a stop a few blocks away and with a much better understanding of how to keep his foothold on a copper curve, "you don't know what a stasis cha- oh! Oh, oh, ohhhh, I get it! I'm so sorry I didn't realise before, I wouldn't have tried to make so much eye contact!"

"I don't know what you're talking about." False hates eye contact - always has, it feels like an active threat - but she never realised it was that obvious.

"No, it's okay! My dad is half-rabbit, I'm completely good with hybrids. You don't have to cover up, your secret's safe with me!"

A secret is never safe with Sausage; she's known him long enough to know that. That's beside the point, though. "What do you mean, hybrids?"

"Well, I mean, you teleported just now! And it was all purple-y, and - and there's only really one thing that can - and you know I did always wonder why you were so tall, but -"

False tunes him out at this point, focused once again on how to get the hell down from the roof. Maybe if she sent him down first he could fetch her some extra wings, or leave a water source for her to land in - not that she's much a fan of the latter, because swimming tends to give her hives... She could always edge round and scale a beam...

The problem may well sort itself out by the next time she's aware of goings-on. That tends to happen. In the meantime, False keeps her eyes low to the ground and fidgets with the hilt of her sword in its scabbard - having something to hold has always kept her grounded, made her feel safer.

She misses Sausage's entire explanation. This fact doesn't register to her for another three days.

Thankfully, her sheepish expression ducking through the strange trapdoor-front-doors of La Catedral de Santa Perla tell Sausage all he needs to know, sans need for her confession.

"An Enderman?"

"That term's kind of archaic, I know a lot of people haven't heard, but most communities use Enderian instead these days," Sausage nods sagely.

False blinks the information in. "An Enderian. ... I'm an Enderian."

"Probably only half! If you were totally Enderian your skin would look a lot different, and your eyes, probably."

False pictures herself with purple eyes and obsidian skin. It doesn't feel like it fits quite right. "What's the other half?"

"If you're not at least half human, I'd be surprised."

"Okay." Half human, half Enderman. Enderian. Whatever. That's... strange-scary-exciting. "What does it mean I can do?"

"That's the fun part! We don't know! Besides teleporting," Sausage shrugs, "you could be a total wild card."

False imagines picking up a grass block with her hands and not having the blades rip away into dirt beneath her fingers; zipping into the middle of a crowded room to grab something and zipping straight back out without causing a fuss; leather-black wings enfolding her in an endless void, for one absurd moment, before the mental image of the vast escapes her.

... Yeah, she decides. This is gonna be fun.

"I guess I'll just have to start testing things out?" she offers wryly.

Sausage beams. "Oh my goodness, please keep me updated!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm gonna. Just - try not to tell everybody and their mother, okay?"

"Of course! Your secret is safe with me, False."

(The whole server knows by Thursday.)

[howdoyousleep3]

where’s that hc about bucky learning to touch 🤲

I was hoping someone would notice that tag and hit me up. Thank you, sweet pea. This one is special to me, one of many. ❤

Bucky doesn’t say much about what happened to him after the fall and before Steve was miraculously given a second chance at a life with him. Steve is thankful for that. The details he does know come from Bucky’s therapist and from files that have been scrounged up over time, ones Steve can’t stomach through, ones he hands to Natasha and asks only for the information she finds pertinent.

Steve is sure he’d die of a goddamn broken heart if he knew every detail of Bucky’s 70+ years of brainwashed torture.

What he needs to know about Bucky is constant and will never change: this is James Barnes, the one in the same Steve spent his entire life falling in love with, Steve loves him now more than ever, and he is going to live every day he’s gifted with in this life for Bucky.

There are things Steve expects after Bucky joins him and the others back at the Tower, things Bruce has helped him comprehend in such a volatile predicament.

“It could take months, years even, for him to come back to you in full. And honestly, Steve...I would be ready for the possibility of him not returning to you in full. This may not end up being the Bucky you knew and grew up with. He needs therapy, needs patience, needs reminders of his life before, of who he was and is. This won’t be easy, Steve.”

Anything for Bucky.

There are things Bucky took to right away and other things that took much longer for him to enjoy or remember. Steve is with him every step of the way.

Sleep was one thing that Steve thought would be a struggle. After only one month of sleeping on the floor in the corner of his bedroom, Steve able to hear him tossing and turning and breathing heavily through his own bedroom wall, it took one afternoon nap on the couch to make him want to move to his new bed. While nightmares continued, Bucky slept albeit in small increments and sometimes through the day, but he slept.

Steve thought that would take years.

Crowds were another story. Crowds came with trust and Bucky rightfully didn’t trust others easily. He barely trusted Steve at first. It took time to get him out of the apartment, baby steps, one step forward and two steps back. They started with walks at dawn, fewer people, gave a shot at stopping for coffee on the way home a few times.

“It’s a Venti here, Buck,” Steve had tried to explain and Bucky huffed. “Why are things so goddamn complicated now? Just want a coffee, a—”

“I know— a black coffee with too much sugar. I got it.”

They’re working on interactions with others and the anxiety that comes with crowds. That one will take time.

What hadn’t taken time, and what startled everyone in the tower beyond belief, was Bucky and affection.

Steve may not know much of what Bucky has spent most of his life enduring but he at least had the assumption that what Bucky went through shouldn’t make him want any kind of touch from another person. Steve wrongfully assumed that any sort of gentle or soft touch wasn't something Bucky would like.

Bucky had spent the past 70+ years walking this earth as a killer, a robot, a machine, an assassin. He surely spent decades thinking he wasn’t worthy of anything, let alone love. He had been touch-starved, void of the tenderness and closeness Steve knows Bucky deserved and craved underneath the brainwashed parts of him.

It took time for Bucky to remember who Steve was to him. While he had recognized him immediately, remembering him but not how, it took months for Bucky to remembered the capacity in which he did so.

And Steve waited.

And waited.

Steve was gifted with small moments along the way, on this journey of Bucky remembering both himself and who Steve was to him:

“You...you were real small once,” Bucky said, factual with no trace of a question, hands in soapy water as he handed Steve a plate to dry. Steve had merely hummed. “Yeah, was...was maybe half the size I am now. Real small.”

“Could fit both’a my hands right around your middle…”

It had been a long while since Steve blushed like that.

Bucky standing over Steve’s sleeping form, heaving chest visible by only the filtered moonlight, Steve mumbling out a, “Buck, wha—?” before Bucky whispered, “You...you’ve been inside of me.” Steve sat up.

“I have,” Steve breathed, on cautious ground, shakier when Bucky then whispered, “But you like it better when I’m inside’a you.”

When Steve had swallowed audibly, nodded his head wordlessly, Bucky had turned and left the room.

It took months of moments like those to compile together, to form the picture of what Steve once was, what he yearned to continue to be, to Bucky. All of these moments, these memories, came to a head so unpredictably during yet another movie night. Knees knocking, fingers brushing, small touches that Steve absolutely soaked in, had gotten used to, had relearned.

When a glance towards Bucky had the wind knocking its way out of Steve’s chest, the familiarity of that look a bone-deep ache—

Bucky was going to kiss him.

A look full of determination and want, lips parted, eyes a bit glassy. Steve didn't dare move, had let Bucky come to him for fear of scaring him away. The moment their lips touched was the moment Bucky started crying. It had only been a short brush of their lips but Steve barely breathed, barely moved. Bucky had pulled back with wide, wet eyes, shaky breaths. “Buck, it’s okay. It’s okay. Everything’s alright, sweetheart,” are the words that easily slipped from his mouth, unable to stop them in a moment of progress that satiated his entire being.

That was the moment that changed everything. It was a startle to everyone involved. Steve had been ready to wait years, this entire life, for the moment he could touch Bucky again, could show him that physicality he knew his Buck craved. After that night on the couch it was as if the floodgates had opened—

Bucky remembered and wanted.

Regardless of where they were or what was happening, he wanted to be touching Steve: soft kisses on the cheek and lips, laying his head in Steve’s lap as he read, lacing his fingers between Steve’s during meetings, an arm wrapped around Steve’s waist between bouts of sparring. He’d trace patterns onto Steve’s thigh as he watched Steve draw, press against the line of his back while he cooked dinner.

Steve was floating on a cloud, was in heaven, never happier. It was perfection.

But what Bucky wanted, Steve couldn’t provide, couldn’t meet. Steve was only one man, couldn’t provide Bucky, whom touch had been stolen away from for decades, with everything he wanted. And that was okay, something Steve accepted, because there were other people Bucky could turn to that Steve trusted.

“I’m sure you all know why I asked you to meet with me,” Steve started, choosing a time Bucky was napping to meet with the rest of the group that either lived in or frequented the Tower. “Bucky has shown us a new side of him, has made some progress I think it’s worth discussing with everyone, since we’re all...we’ve all been affected...”

“Uhh, yeah— your Barnes-y boy has been all over me lately. I’m almost offended that everyone else is here to talk to Cap though. Thought he was just comin' onto me.”

“I have to tell you, I didn’t...I know we talked, Steve. But I’m honestly shocked at Bucky’s progress. It’s baffling.”

“I haven’t minded it. He lets me braid his hair.”

“Wait— y’all are getting touches?”

It was a group effort, supporting Bucky in this way. It was an adjustment, Bucky never prompting and questioning before touching or requesting touches— he just went for it. He was quiet still, not shy, merely observant. And just like he nudged at and leaned against Steve until his hands were on him, he did the same to others.

“I just ask that you show Bucky grace during this time. It’s a delicate situation. I need to know if you don’t want his touch or don’t wish to give him any kind of touch. I think it would be best if it came from me instead of from you in the moment.”

Natasha was who Bucky went to for scratches. Steve thinks it’s the nails. Steve also thinks Nat is Bucky’s favorite to go to for touches, even over him, but Bucky refuses to admit it.

When Bucky wants mindless touches, when he wants tickles and scratches, he goes to her. She naturally took to Bucky’s need for touches, the first occurrence one that came without hesitation. She’ll braid his hair, let him turn his head right where he wants her head scratches, naturally reaches for his back or shoulders to run her nails across when he saddles in close to her.

Thor is one of Bucky’s favorites too. Steve isn’t sure if it’s because of his strength or because of his warm and accepting demeanor but Bucky gravitates towards Thor often, mainly for neck and shoulder rubs. One, “James, my friend. You musn’t be afraid of asking for touch with me. I will always be willing to assist,” and that was all Bucky needed to feel comfortable walking over to Thor and nudging at his hands.

He puts his head on Bruce’s shoulder as soon as he can, likes sparring and playing hide and seek with Clint, enjoys putting his feet in Sam’s lap. Tony took some warming up to, but even then Bucky spent many hours in Tony’s lab, Tony guiding his hands, showing him what to do and how to work different machines, the two of them tinkering on his own arm.

Bucky kinda turns into the Tower kitty cat, wandering around quietly, napping in the sun, snacking, demanding affection from anyone he crosses paths with and trusts.

Everyone had their form of touch they shared with Bucky and Bucky absolutely blossomed under this form of support. Steve is forever grateful to be surrounded by a group of understanding individuals.

And every night when he lifts the comforter and feels the solid line of Bucky’s warm form against his side, the arm that now easily and inevitably slips around his waist, the familiar lips that always press against his temple, shoulder, and cheek, Steve is reminded this day was for Bucky and that the one they’ll wake up to will also be for him.

"I love you, Buck."

"Mhmm love you too, pal."

Steve doesn't even mind that Bucky spends his nights snoring in the crook of his neck, hot breath wafting over Steve's skin, hands grabby even as he dreams—

This is heaven.

[peachyysugaa]

troublemaker

― dancer youtubers!lee heeseung x gn!dance major!reader

sparks fly when the top two dancers on youtube collab!

genre: slow-burn fluff, s2l

wc: 3.9k (omg i'm sorry) + 2 twitter pics

warnings: probably some wrong dance terminology, slightly suggestive (the dance is just 😳), short timeskip, it's cheesy please bear with me

part of my youtuber enhypen series, the fifth upload! feel free to read on its own~ ♞──────────────────────────♞

you finish off your last move with your arms wide open, your chest heaving up and down from lack of breath. smiling nevertheless, you know you absolutely love the feeling of getting your breath taken away after dancing because you know it meant you did your best. you walk towards the camera lens and peek at the comments through your open laptop.

"did you all enjoy that?" you ask breathlessly grinning. the flooding comments are filled with compliments from your cover of nct u's boss. however, one comment, in particular, caught your eye as others seemed to reply to it.

heeseung ✔ 2s ago wow that was amazing do you wanna do a collab sometime? 😊

line break insurance you've failed me 5x already

your eyes widen as you let out a gasp. "is that the lee heeseung?" you accidentally say out loud. you wince at the realization of your mistake. the comments are both praising you for your success in getting noticed by the other top dancer on youtuber and relating to your remark.

heeseung ✔ 3s ago haha yes it's me dm me if you want to hear more about it 🤍

"oh wow... this is really cool..." you state before blinking to get you out of your stupor. "well everyone, that's going to be all for y/n's motion of dance today! thank you so much for tuning in, love you!"

you wave goodbye for a few more moments and then shut off the broadcast, closing your laptop as soon as you do. you blink twice and suddenly let out a scream.

you stop with a gasp and cover your mouth with your hands because you cannot believe you forgot that your dance studio isn't the most soundproof of places. "sorry, other dance students..." you whisper to them but more for yourself.

taking a look around your escape, your passion, you can't believe you've made it to where you are, being praised as one of the top dancers on such a vast social media platform like youtube. if anything, you guess it runs in your family, after all, you are related to choi yeonjun, who is considered 4th gen's it boy.

though people were skeptical of you at first when you came on the youtube scene as a dancer after your older brother started taking more to modeling and acting, you quickly proved them wrong by showing them your talent and bloomed from then on. of course, you can't forget to mention the person who skyrocketed just around the same time as you.

and that was the aforementioned lee heeseung. you sigh as you finish packing up your clothes and things to head back to your dorm, glancing out the window to see the sun beginning to set. it seems today was a rare early finish for you.

"i could go for a coffee... i need to finish my classics essay anyway," you mumble to yourself, throwing your bag over your shoulder before hitting the showers and changing into a more casual set of clothes. the finishing touch is a baseball cap that sits snug on your head. tightening the strap on the back and grabbing your backpack and dance bag, you finally take your leave of your beloved dance studio and return the key on the way out. fresh air meets your face, allowing you to take a whiff of the cherry blossoms that have been blooming for a month or so as you make your way to the campus café.

ding ding, the coffee shop's calm doorbell welcomes you as your nose is hit by the sweet smells of freshly ground coffee beans. "welcome!" one of the servers calls at the counter, smiling at your figure that walks closer to order. "what can i get you?"

"hi, may i have..." you scan the menu quickly for a familiar drink. "a honey cinnamon iced latte please?"

"of course, name please?"

"choi y/n," you reply.

if they recognize you, they don't make any notion of it, simply scribbling your name on the plastic cup as you make your payment. you're grateful for the normal interaction and the peacefulness of the café, especially after a surprising stream. "i'll call you when your order's ready, choi y/n-ssi," they inform you with a warm grin.

"thank you," you smile back before going to find a seat. spotting a relatively private area close by with only a pair of boys sitting at the booth, you decide to take the booth two spaces away from them. one boy, you notice, sits taller than the other, but his face is covered by a baseball cap. the other looks like a freshman, his cheeks accentuated by a pair of deep dimples.

as you take your seat, you can't help but think the boy with dimples looks rather familiar but can't seem to place your finger on it. shrugging, you simply begin preparing to write your essay by taking out your laptop and notes from your classics ge. the moment you finish is when you hear your name being called.

"choi y/n-ssi, your honey cinnamon iced latte," the server's voice calls. on your way to receive your awaiting drink, you can finally hear the voices of the two boys sitting two booths down from you.

"did your crush just say choi y/n?" the one with the hat says.

'yes, that's me,' you think to yourself nonchalantly.

"weren't you just watching their stream, heeseung hyung?" another voice says as you pick up your latte and thank the server.

wait, heeseung? as in lee heeseung? it's when you turn around with your drink in hand that you notice the two males looking straight at you. now you're able to make out the features of the boy with the cap, and there's no mistaking it.

"lee heeseung?" you mutter out loud at the same time he speaks out yours.

well, maybe that wasn't what you were expecting today, but hey, life is full of surprises, even if they are one after the other for you. after that unexpected encounter, you and heeseung acquainted yourselves, he invited you to sit with them, and now you're sitting at their table, awkwardly sipping on your latte.

"right, so should i leave?" the other boy, who you found out is studytuber and vlogger yang jungwon (which is why he looked familiar to you), blurts out. you chuckle as heeseung shakes his shoulder lightly. "what? you two clearly have to talk about something, i need to study."

"yea, yea, lover boy. make sure you say bye to your crush on the way out," the male dancer teases, causing the younger one to turn bright red.

"don't call me that, hyung," he mutters before picking up his bag and leaving the booth. sure enough, you watch as jungwon passes by the counter and erupts into a nervous mess the moment the server beams at him.

"ah... so he likes them?" you think out loud.

"yup, it's been almost four months now. i'm the reason he even knows this cafe and that server exists," heeseung mentions, making you nod courteously. he turns his attention back to you with his hand placed under his chin. "but their relationship is besides the point. let's talk about us."

"d-did you have to put it that way?" the forwardness catches you off-guard, and you suddenly have a harder time swallowing a sip of your coffee.

"sorry," he says with a teasing smile. "i just think the collab i mentioned would be good for both of us, and it'll be really fun too."

"i agree, people who like you will come to me and vice versa," you nod. "but do you know what we would be dancing to?"

"so does that mean you're in?" he asks, smile starting to grow on his face. wordlessly, you roll your eyes and hold out your hand for him to shake. that's when his full smile comes out, causing your cheeks to heat up as you think about how much more handsome it makes him look. taking your hand, heeseung shakes it with his vigorously. "alright, dance partner, we have a deal."

after much deliberation and research, the two of you finally agree on troublemaker by the duo hyuna and hyunseung. heeseung suggested this song, stating that he always wanted to do the choreo with somebody and that it's destiny that both males have a name that starts with h and ends with seung. quite frankly, it's not like you could find much anyway, besides some cool music bank mc stages, it is cool that troublemaker was originally an opposite-gender duo in the korean entertainment industry.

the choreography however is an entirely different story. at many points, hyuna's body is touched by hyunseung and vice versa, but if they can do it and stay professional, then you believe you can too. besides, dancing will always be just dancing. heeseung also assures you that if you want, the two of you can just have your hands hovering, which makes you feel relieved to have an understanding partner.

hours pass by, and you and heeseung decide to meet at your usual dance studio daily after all your classes, which wasn't hard because he also frequented the same one.

"i still can't believe we attend the same university," you say aloud as the both of you pack up your laptops and supplies.

"i know right, you would think one of us would recognize the dance studio we go to 24/7, right?" he laughs. "although, i've seen you use a different one sometimes."

"do you really watch my covers and streams often?" you ask baffled. he and you wave the workers goodbye and make your way to the brisk evening air waiting outside as the staff sends you off.

"i do, is that so hard to believe?"

"a little," you reply sheepishly.

"well, let me walk you to your dorm and prove to you how much of a choi y/n stan i am," he boasts, and you let yourself laugh freely as you walk beside him to your destination.

it's strange, knowing a famous youtuber you watched also knew and followed you, but then again, you're not exactly nobody either. when heeseung drops you off, he admits that he actually lives a few floors above you and that you two can walk home together after each rehearsal. it's even stranger, knowing a famous youtuber literally has been on your campus, in the same dorm building as you, and this whole time, the two of you have both been clueless as to the other's existence as an ordinary college student.

speaking of which, he can't be a dance major, right? otherwise, you would've already seen him! these thoughts keep you tossing and turning to the point you don't register when you fell asleep. when you wake up, you feel as if you didn't get any sleep at all, but get up and ready nevertheless, going through another regular day as a dance major.

by the time your classes are over, you walk out of the studio yawning about to stop by your dorm to freshen up and maybe fit in a nap. you're holding a hand over your mouth mid-yawn when a voice starts talking to you.

"good thing i stopped by to get coffee." you open your eyes and close your mouth to see lee heeseung holding two cups of coffee. he's dressed in an oversized white shirt and grey sweatpants, a common dance practice outfit, so why is your heart skipping so many beats. "yo, choi y/n."

"heeseung," you say, still shocked. he hands you the coffee, which is actually the same flavor you got yesterday. "thanks."

"no problem," he replies coolly. "maybe we should take a break before we get to it?"

"i'll be fine, how about we can start watching the choreo?"

"they're always ready to dance," he nods with an impressed smile. "as expected of a dance major."

the two of you walk inside and book a studio for a few hours as you raise an eyebrow at him. "wait, what major are you?"

"music production."

"that makes so much sense!" you say relieved, stepping into the studio room for the umpteenth time. "i was racking my brains wondering what major you were."

"so the famous choi y/n is curious about me?" he smirks. you groan and facepalm in response. "i'm kidding, i'm kidding. let's watch the video on my tablet?"

nodding, the two of you watch carefully, eyes glued to the screen at your respective roles. you hold your breath at some touchy parts but also notice that both idols were able to shine in their solos.

"a few tweaks here and there, and it'll be perfect," heeseung comments once the video is over. "but let's go over some boundaries, yeah? let me know what you're comfortable with and what you're not."

"right," you agree, once again relieved to have such a safe and understanding partner like him. "well, i think i'm okay with you touching my arms, shoulders, and hips like hyunseung did to hyuna. i just need some time to get used to it."

"alright, that sounds good," he says nodding with a hand under his chin. "then for today, i'll just hover my hands over the places they need to be."

"what a gentleman," you tease.

he rolls his eyes playfully at you. "let's start marking."

and so that's what the two of you start on. with the video on the tablet, you go through the motions with the speed lowered, eventually picking up more moves until you're able to follow at the normal speed. as expected of the top two dancers on youtube, the two of you are quick on observing and learning the dance and get done with basic marking within 20 minutes or so.

after marking, you take a quick water break to watch the video again in full detail, officially beginning your first real practice. as promised, throughout the entirety of marking, heeseung has kept his hands to himself, but you've become comfortable enough to have him do a little more.

before you start practicing for real, you decide to speak with him. "hee," you call him as he puts down his water bottle.

"hm?" he confirms that you have his attention, looking up with his large doe-like eyes while wiping his mouth off from some excess water.

"uhm.." you fidget with your top a little before mustering up some courage. "you can do light touches now for the choreo."

"really? are you sure?" you nod at his question, causing him to come up to you and ruffle your hair lightly. you bat his hands away with a pout, smoothing out the mess he made as he laughs at you. "that's great, y/n," he says with a bright smile, unknowingly making your heart beat a little faster as you nod again. in your head, you rush to cover up the physical reaction with an excuse that it's just from the amount of exercise you've done.

the two of you stand in front of the mirror, ready to go. before the music starts, heeseung turns to you and says, "just let me know if i make you uncomfortable at all."

"i'll be fine," you reassure him with a small smile. that's when the song begins, and the sparks start to fly. every move flowed like water, yet every touch between the two of you was like electricity as if the two elements were working together instead of fighting. even though the touches are light, they still put chills up your spine, in a way that you can only describe with the phrase "meant to happen."

was fate moving its course to put this match together, or were you imagining it? you're not sure, but you grin while catching your breath once the first practice is over. falling to the floor softly, you sit with your hands splayed behind you and let out a relieved sigh. "ahh... dancing is so... great!"

heeseung chuckles at your reaction and offers a hand to get you up. "i'm glad you think that because we got a lot more practice ahead of us, partner."

"yup!" you say with a widening smile. the moment you took his hand, you felt an electric jolt that almost made you let go. getting up, you shake it off and barely catch the expression on your dance partner's face. "is something the matter?"

he blinks a bit before he's shaking his head with that charming smirk of his. "nope! let's practice!"

practice, practice, practice. that's how the next few hours go. and just like the day before, heeseung walks you to your dorm building, this time the conversation about how excited the two of you are for the recording.

that's basically how the next four or so days go, now that heeseung came into your life. your daily routine of wake up, eat, class, dance, repeat was shaken by him, because now he was a part of it. it's an indescribable feeling, hanging out with him. the best word, or phrase actually, is the same one you used while dancing with him: meant to be.

so when you finally get to the day of recording, you almost don't want it to end. at least, that's what you're telling your best friend and makeup artist, kim sunoo.

"friend, you're telling me that you and this guy have been following along to..." he tells you to look up as he curls your eyelashes. "a dance like that for four days and you've been getting shocks this whole time?"

"i mean, yeah?"

"y/n, i love you, but you're missing a little something, aren't you?"

"wha-!?"

"pucker up, sweetie, we're making your lips look kissable," sunoo commands. you do an eye-roll but do as he says. "if you don't ask him out or do something by the end of this, you can at least kiss your best shot at a boyfriend goodbye with luscious lips."

he finishes applying the color and asks you to rub your lips together and make that pop sound. "perfect," your best friend compliments. "go out there and get your mans."

"thank you, sunoo!" you say, gazing at your reflection in the mirror and loving the way he accentuated your features. "by the way, you're all talk. you should ask your celebrity crush out when they appear on your channel."

"i'll get there when i get there!" he whines and starts pushing you out of his dorm room. "just go get 'em, tiger."

with that, you make your way to the dance studio where heeseung is waiting for you, dressed in hyunseung's iconic suit with the leopard-patterned blazer. your heart quickens, seeing how much more handsome he looks dressed up, hair slicked back and some makeup done. he looks up upon hearing the door open and his mouth slightly hangs open as well.

the both of you are silent as you approach him, in your equally bedazzling outfit, sheer to mimic hyuna's stage dress. "you look amazing," the two of you say at the same time. stunned at the simultaneous sentence, you two immediately start guffawing at how this was unlike your usual interactions.

"that was so awkward!" you blurt out, unable to contain your laughter.

"yea, not like us at all," he admits while he wipes a stray tear from laughing too hard away. smiling at each other, you admire the way his eyes reflect your image and sparkle. "you ready to get this show on the road."

"ready as i'll ever be." the two of you get into your positions on the opposite ends of the room, and heeseung starts the camera and the music soon after. you take each step slowly to meet him in the middle as he takes your hand and brings it up to his lips to give it a kiss while smirking. you keep your face professional as the two of you take a few steps forward, the back of his fingers curled over the front of yours.

starting back-to-back, you walk forward a bit before the beat drops and heeseung's part begins. you're on autopilot as you dance your fingers from his chest to his shoulders, and then the chorus comes. hips swaying, you're able to feel his hands' light taps on your body as the two of you lose yourself to the music you've danced to hundreds of times this week.

then, it's your killing part as you lipsync hyuna's rap and take bold steps around heeseung's body, ending up behind him to bring your hands over his shoulders and make a scratching movement across his chest. you step towards his side, do your thing, and walk away as if playing hard to get.

you wait for his part during the bridge and make a side glance towards him before moving towards him and performing the hip-heavy part of the chorus together. your partner moves his face up along your arm, taking it in like you're a statue. you then act like you brush him away when heeseung gets close enough. after this second chorus, you're leaving him to do his big solo, watching carefully as he makes his every move precise and crisp yet flow well.

it's the last chorus now, and this time, you can't take your eyes off each other as you finally face one another. you stay drowning in his shades of brown without a single misstep until you have to walk away from him. you wait for him to come towards you, back slightly turned away as he jaunts forward, making his way to be captured by your hand behind his neck.

the last breath of the song is the one where you're supposed to turn your head away as his own chases yours, but this time, you brave forward and lean in close. the music fades away, but all you hear is his breathing, feeling it against your own.

you stay like this, ensnared in each other's arms, forgetting about everything except the person wrapped close to you as you feel his every breath against your lips and every inhale and exhale under your hand. he searches your eyes, looking for some kind of sign. "do you mind if i—"

that was all you needed before you're pressing your lips against his. it only takes seconds for him to kiss you back, moving his hands from their previous position on your hips to hold your face. becoming breathless from dancing was one thing, becoming breathless from kissing heeseung was another thing entirely, it was in a league of its own you note as you pull away and rest your forehead on his.

"we'll have to edit that out," you say after what seemed like ages of taking each other in while chuckling.

"i have a better idea than editing."

"oh, and what's that, handsome?"

"look at you getting all bold, troublemaker," heeseung replies with that smile of his. he shakes his head, moving away from you and taking your hand in his. "how about we go on our first official date as youtube's top dancer couple?"

"that does sound like a better idea," you agree, your own smile widening.

"then let's make it happen, sweetheart."

bonus! - click for full images

taglist: @cha-raena @imjustme-things @misoiishi @rikitaiyaki send an ask to join the taglist! :3c permanent taglist: @fiantomartell

a/n: wow this was a long one!! i'm not sure if i detailed all the movements well, but i hope you all enjoyed it nevertheless <3

[junghelioseok]

clandestine. | 04

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 6.5k [4/6]

notes: we finally have a set chapter count! did this fic really need to be 6 chapters? absolutely not, but here we are! i’m hoping to have this fella finished up in the next month or so, but we’ll see how that goes given my track record. happy new year, everyone!

warnings: a little underedited bc i’m lazy, shower sex!!! mild? exhibitionist tendencies??? reader is dumb and jungkook is slutty, but what else is new 🤷🏻‍♀️

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 

“I swear to god, I am going to amputate your arm with a rusty hacksaw if you elbow me one more time.”

Undeterred, your brother prods you again, pouting at you from his spot in the driver’s seat. “I just want another chip, Noona. Don’t be so mean.”

“Are you a baby bird?” you ask in disbelief, gaping at the way he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue. “Seriously, I’m not feeding you. Get your own chips if you want them so badly.”

“But I’ve gotta keep both hands on the wheel,” he replies cheekily. “Ten and two positions, at all times.”

You frown. “Didn’t they change it to nine and three?” Nonetheless, you reluctantly reach into the bag in your lap, pulling out a potato chip and delivering it to his waiting mouth. “Next one’s going straight into your nose,” you warn as he happily crunches down on the snack.

Jimin simply offers you a beatific grin in between chews. “Love you too.”

“Nope, I changed my mind. Next one’s going up your ass.”

Your brother has long since grown used to your threats. “Kinky,” he chuckles as he merges smoothly into the next lane over. The song on the radio shifts into something more upbeat, and Jungkook is quick to start humming along under his breath from his spot in the seat behind you. Within minutes, it’s morphed into a singalong, and the offkey warbling of all seven passengers—no matter how dissonant—is a perfect soundtrack for the remainder of the drive.

The beach, when you arrive, is awash with tourists and locals alike, all clamoring to lay claim to a prime stretch of sand and a decent parking space. Jimin manages to snag a spot just as someone else is pulling out, and the rest of you are quick to disembark and scope out the beach for somewhere to set up camp. Plopping your bag down onto the sand, you rifle through it until you find your sunscreen, mentally patting yourself on the back for buying the spray instead of the cream.

“Can I borrow that when you’re done, Noona?” Taehyung asks, watching you wrench off the cap.

You nod, squinting against the sunlight. “Sure. As long as you help me get my entire back.”

“Deal.”

Flashing him a grateful smile, you shimmy out of your shorts and begin applying sunscreen to your arms and legs. Taehyung peels off his t-shirt, and you spray him down too, making sure to coat his entire back before he takes the bottle and does the same to you.

“I might have gone a little overboard,” he admits once he’s done, capping the bottle and tossing it back into your bag. Warm hands settle onto your exposed shoulder blades, deft fingertips rubbing the excess product into your skin. “There, that should do it. All better.”

“Thanks, Tae.” You turn around and reach out, wiping at a stray fleck of the white lotion on his bicep. “You’ve got a little bit here too, hang on—“

“Mind if I borrow this?”

You turn at the sound of Jungkook’s voice. The dark-haired young man is standing there with your sunscreen in hand, his gaze zeroed in on the way your fingertips linger on Taehyung’s bare skin. Awkwardly, you pull away and nod, hoping that neither of them can hear your heart pounding erratically against your ribcage.

“Yeah. Sure. It’s all yours.”

Jungkook grabs his white t-shirt by the collar, tugging it up and over his head in one smooth motion, and you swallow at the way his taut abdomen flexes as he tosses it aside. “You’ll help me get my back too, won’t you, Noona?”

You nod, moving before he can even finish his sentence. Your feet carry you across the sandy ground on autopilot, and Jungkook exhales audibly as your palms smooth along the golden expanse of his muscular back, dipping down to the waistband of his black swim trunks. Ever since his visit to your bedroom last night, you’ve been itching to touch him—to feel every last inch of him. It’s impossible with your watchful brother and group of nosy friends hovering around though, so you settle for this—rubbing sunscreen into his warm skin while he sprays down his arms and legs.

“Thanks, princess,” he murmurs once you’re done, soft enough so that only you can hear and raising gooseflesh on the back of your neck. “Maybe next time, you’ll let me repay the favor.”

Then Yugyeom is calling his name, and Jungkook sprints down to the shoreline to join his friend in the crashing surf, his face creasing with laughter. Each time he emerges from the waves, droplets cling to his skin like glistening diamonds in the sunlight. It’s impossible to look away from the sight, and your tongue darts out to moisten your lips as you watch water drip off his hair and down his nape, pooling in his collarbones before he shakes his head like a dog and sends it spraying in all directions.

All that sunscreen is going to waste, a tiny voice in your head points out, but it’s hard to worry about that when you’re too busy following the path of the water streaming down past his dusky nipples to the ridges of his abdomen. And it’s almost as if he feels your gaze on him, because he’s suddenly staring right back at you, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips.

“Come on, Noona,” he calls, raking a hand through his drenched hair. “The water’s fine. Don’t make me drag you in.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you call back, immediately regretting it when something equal parts mischievous and dangerous flashes across his face. There’s a glint in his eye that wasn’t there before, and you back away nervously as he emerges from the waves and saunters toward you. “Jungkook—”

“Yes?” he asks, his voice dropping down into a low purr. “What is it, princess?”

You edge around the towel that you’ve laid out in the sand, as if such a flimsy barrier could stop him in any way. “Just—just don’t dunk me under,” you plead.

Jungkook looks genuinely offended by that. “I would never,” he says, laying a hand over his heart and grabbing yours with his free one. “Now come on—let’s get you wet.”

You groan at the innuendo and try to tug free from his grip, but Jungkook only tightens his grasp, cackling the whole way down to the water.

///

The sun is just beginning to set, streaking the blue sky through with wispy strands of orange and gold, when Jimin raises his hand and declares it dinner time. For the past two hours, you’ve all been engrossed in a very tight three-on-three volleyball match with Jimin serving as referee, and upon hearing your brother’s declaration, Minho looks about ready to chuck the ball into the ocean.

“Dude, are you fucking serious? We’re literally two points from winning!” He gestures wildly at an invisible scoreboard only he can see. “No way we’re stopping here. I refuse on principle.”

“Yeah, I wanna see who the real winner is, too,” Jungkook drawls from the other end of the court, where he’s flanked on either side by Taehyung and Yugyeom. “I mean, we’ve been leading for most of the tournament, so…”

Minho scowls. “And we’re about to win the whole damn thing. Just you wait, Jeon.”

Behind him, you and Taemin exchange helpless glances. It isn’t the first time you’ve seen Jungkook and Minho squabble over the years, and you’re sure it won’t be the last. Both possess a razor sharp competitive streak and a certain pigheadedness that only emerges when it comes to athletic endeavors, and luckily, your brother knows this just as well as you do. Heaving a sigh, Jimin wearily gestures for them to continue, resuming his post at the end of the net. “Fine, fine,” he mutters. “Next point wins.”

On the other side of the net, Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “I’m good with that if you are.”

“Oh, I’m good,” Minho retorts. “It’s our serve. You ready?”

Jungkook smirks. “Bring it on.”

Minho cracks his knuckles and tosses the ball over to you for the serve. “All right then, let’s fucking do this.”

You sigh. Taking a deep breath, you heft up the ball, testing its weight before hitting it smoothly over the net. Yugyeom jumps up to intercept, batting it back over to your side, and Minho attempts to spike it back and into the sand. Unfortunately, Jungkook is too quick, and dives down to bump it back over to you. The back and forth continues like this for a while—you see Jimin boredly scrolling on his phone out of the corner of your eye—and you’re strongly considering calling it quits when Jungkook smashes the ball over the net and into the ground right at Minho’s feet.

“And that’s game,” he declares proudly, raking his sweaty hair off his forehead with a triumphant grin.

“Are you finally done?” Jimin asks, rolling his eyes and pocketing his phone. “Thank god. Can we eat now?”

Jungkook claps him on the back in affirmation, ignoring Minho’s loud, adamant protests that your team still technically won. Together, you head back to where your towels and bags sit in the sand, grabbing bottles of chilled water out of the cooler and fishing for snacks. Jimin pulls a package of hot dogs out while Taehyung rips open a bag of chips, and you follow their lead and grab the hamburger patties and buns. “Huh, I swear I bought ketchup,” you mumble to yourself as you rummage through the half-melted ice in the cooler. “Is it not in here?”

“I have it.” Jungkook materializes at your side, proffering the little red bottle. He’s pulled his white t-shirt back on, the material a stark contrast to his tanned skin, and you silently rise to your feet to take it when a sudden wave of lightheadedness rushes over you and sends the world spinning.

“Whoa,” you gasp, swaying on your feet. “Oh, god.”

Jungkook frowns and drops the ketchup bottle, steadying you until most of your weight is leaned against him. “Noona? Are you okay?”

You swallow, hard, and try to shake the unexpected bout of dizziness away. “I don’t know. Got dizzy, all of a sudden. I think I might have stood up too fast?”

Gently, Jungkook presses the back of his hand against your forehead. “You feel pretty warm,” he murmurs. “Have you had enough water today?”

“I thought I drank plenty, but maybe not,” you admit, and he nods decisively and gestures for you to follow him.

“Come on,” he says. “Let’s grab some water and go somewhere quiet so you can rest. Minho isn’t going to shut up about that match anytime soon, and it’s cooler down by the water.”

You laugh weakly. “We did technically win, you know. We had one more point than you guys.”

“God, not you too,” Jungkook sighs, casting you a playful look over his shoulder as he digs two bottles of water out from the cooler. He uncaps one and hands it over before taking a swig out of his, and you take a grateful sip, relishing in the cool liquid that trickles down your throat.

Nearby, your brother and the rest of the boys have commandeered one of several firepits scattered around the edges of the beach. They’re piling up pieces of driftwood and some of the long, tall sea grass that Taehyung has found, and Jungkook waves at them as he slowly guides you toward the ocean with a hand on your back. “We’re gonna go find some more wood!” he calls, and Jimin raises a hand in acknowledgment before turning back to the firepit.

Water laps gently at your toes as you and Jungkook walk along the shore, washing away all traces of your footprints. The sun dips below the horizon at last, illuminating the sky in one last burst of red and orange and gold that slowly fades into deep purples and blues as night falls. The temperature dips as the moon ascends to her lofty throne, accompanied by a smattering of starry pinpricks. Most of the beachgoers have packed up and left by this point, and here, with nothing but Jungkook’s quiet, familiar presence and the lapping waves, you feel more at peace than you have in a long time.

“You know, I’m really glad I came this weekend,” you say softly, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between the two of you. Your gaze drops down to your toes, fixing your attention on a pearly white seashell that’s sticking out from the wet sand. “I think you were right—I really did need a break from everything.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t quite catch that,” Jungkook says, swirling his pinky in his ear. “Could you say it again? Something about me being right?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

Jungkook casts a quick look over his shoulder, and when you follow the trajectory of his gaze, you notice just how far you’ve gotten from the firepit where the others are sitting. Darkness has settled over the beach, the sand painted a wan silver from the light of the moon, and you flinch when Jungkook’s hand finds its way around yours.

“Jungkook—” you begin, but trail off when he twines your fingers together and gives your hand a squeeze.

“They can’t see us, Noona,” he murmurs. “Relax.”

Easier said than done, you want to say. Nevertheless, you suck in a deep breath and take another sip from your water bottle, trying to ignore the way Jungkook swings your interlocked hands between you as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Shouldn’t—shouldn’t we be trying to find more driftwood?” you ask after several long seconds have dragged by. “We need way more if we’re gonna keep the fire going.”

Jungkook hums softly and veers inland, until the sand beneath your feet is dry and starts sticking to your wet toes. You come across a few scattered pieces of wood, dried out by the sun, and tuck them beneath your arm. Likewise, Jungkook gathers a few pieces of his own, hefting them up before reaching out to take your hand once more. His fingers slot all too comfortably into the spaces between yours, and your heart stutters a few times in your chest before plunking down into your churning stomach.

Nighttime has well and truly settled over the beach by the time you and Jungkook start picking your way back over to rejoin the group around the firepit. You pull your hand out of Jungkook’s well before you reach the ring of orange light that the flames cast across the sand, your arm now swinging free at your side and your fingers cold from the loss of his warmth. Silently, you hasten your pace and plop down onto the towel that Jimin has spread out, stretching out your legs toward the fire and wiggling your toes.

“Where have you guys been?” Jimin asks curiously. “You just kinda wandered off.”

“Getting more driftwood,” you reply, gesturing at the small pile you’ve dropped at the edge of the towel. “We told you that’s where we were going.”

Jimin frowns for a few seconds before the memory resurfaces. “Oh, right. I forgot.”

Jungkook snorts and takes a seat beside you, dropping his stack of driftwood on top of yours. “Dumbass.”

“You’re a dumbass,” Jimin retorts.

“You’re both dumbasses,” you sigh.

The fire crackles merrily, sending orange sparks up into the velvety black sky. There’s a grill situated over the flames, loaded with hamburger patties and hot dogs, and you watch as Jimin tears open a bag of hot dog buns and begins to place them around the edges.

“Hey, can you throw me the hamburger buns?” he asks you. “I wanna try toasting them.”

“You’re gonna burn them,” you tell him flatly. Nonetheless, you locate the second bag and toss it over, watching as he makes more room on the grill.

Dinner is a loud, chaotic affair, filled with laughter and conversation and plenty of booze to go around. Jimin has procured a flask of whiskey from somewhere in his clothing—an impressive feat in and of itself, considering he’s only wearing swim trunks and a thin blue t-shirt. You wave him off when he offers you a sip, and he shrugs and throws back a generous swallow himself. Then he offers it to Jungkook, who shakes his head and raises his water bottle. “Designated driver,” he says. “I’m sticking to water tonight.”

Curiously, you glance over at him. “You don’t have to do that. I wasn’t planning on drinking, so I can drive us back.”

“With the way you were looking earlier?” Jungkook fixes you with a look of pure disbelief. “Not a chance. Besides, we’re going back to the real world tomorrow, and the last thing I need is to be hungover. I have to get us back home in one piece, not to mention the entire menu I still have to memorize for work.”

You hum. Jungkook has mentioned his new job a few times—a summer stint working as a server at a new restaurant opened by a family friend named Seokjin. “Right, I remember you saying that. You start on Monday, don’t you?”

“Dinner shift,” Jungkook confirms. “I stole a whole bunch of pens from Junghyun’s room the other day in preparation. Jin said I’d probably end up losing two-thirds of them by the end of the week.”

“That sounds about right,” you tell him with a laugh. “Some guy stole my favorite pen last summer when I was working at that diner on Main. Lesson learned, forever.”

Jungkook laughs. “Yeah, I bet.”

You grin. “But, hey, seriously. If you need me to quiz you on that menu, I’ve got time to spare.”

“Honestly, I might take you up on that offer. I have flash cards, and everything.” He uncaps his water bottle and takes a long sip, his throat bobbing with each swallow, before glancing back over at you. “What about you? You ready for your internship?”

You sigh and offer him a helpless little shrug. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready, to be honest. I don’t think I’m going to stop stressing about it until I get through my first day. The entire thing still doesn’t feel real.”

“I get that,” Jungkook hums. “Well, I can imagine it, at least. I won’t pretend to know exactly what you’re going through, since I’ve never had an adult job, but—“ He shrugs a shoulder halfheartedly. “I can kind of relate, I guess.”

“All jobs suck a little bit,” you tell him, and Jungkook lets out a derisive huff of agreement.

“I’ll drink to that,” he says, and the two of you tap your water bottles together before rejoining the conversation with the rest of your friends.

///

The drive back to the lake house is shorter than you remember it being—though that might be because you spend most of it watching Jungkook drive. He steers with one hand slung carelessly over the wheel, his expression relaxed as he sings along to whatever pop hit plays on the radio. Unloading the car is a team effort, though you hear no shortage of complaints from Jimin as he heaves the cooler over the threshold of the house before collapsing atop it in a pile of limp limbs.

“Thanks for leaving me to carry this thing by myself,” he snarks, not even bothering to raise his head. “Really appreciate it.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Taehyung scoffs, tossing a game console at him. “Have a beer and pick something to play. We’re waiting on you.”

You watch as your brother immediately hops up and darts over to join the rest of the boys lounging in the living room, fighting back the sudden wave of exhaustion that washes over you. “I think I’m going to head to bed,” you tell them, hiding a yawn behind your hand. “Goodnight, guys.”

A chorus of goodnights and see you in the mornings rings out in response, and you wave before heading down the hall to your room and into the adjoining bathroom. Your hair is crusty from being submerged in the salty water of the ocean, and a shower to rejuvenate your dehydrated skin is just what you need. Turning on the tap, you wait until it’s flowing warm before stripping out of your clothes and tossing them onto your bed to deal with later. Then you step into the shower and tilt your head back, letting the water stream down your face and soak into your hair.

You’re midway through squeezing a generous dollop of shampoo into your palm when there’s a soft knock on the door. “Noona?” Jungkook’s voice filters through the sound of rushing water, low and lilting like a song. “You left kinda fast. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

You cap the shampoo bottle and replace it on the shelf, peering out from behind the shower curtain. “I’m fine,” you call, hesitating before you steel your nerves and continue. “You can come in, if you want. I don’t like yelling through the door.”

Slowly, the bathroom door eases open, revealing Jungkook standing in his and Jimin’s shared bedroom. His brown eyes are wide as he takes in the sight before him, and you have no doubt that he’s thinking about just what the palm tree patterned curtain is hiding from his view. Your lip finds its way between your teeth when you notice him shuffle his feet awkwardly for a moment before stepping a little closer to where you’re standing beneath the spray, his mouth opening to speak.

“Join me?”

The invitation slips past your lips, unbidden, but you have no intention of taking it back. Not when Jungkook’s gaze darkens to obsidian at those two simple words, his mouth snapping shut and his hands already reaching for the hem of his white t-shirt. Not when he strips it off in one smooth motion to reveal all the dips and ridges of his abdomen, his skin golden even under the harsh fluorescent bathroom lights. And certainly not when he pulls aside the shower curtain and joins you beneath the spray, his dark eyes appreciatively raking up and down your bare figure.

“Hey,” he says, his voice a low purr.

“Hi,” you respond, reaching out and trailing a fingertip down his chest.

And then you’re dropping down to your knees, your tongue darting out to tease at the tip of his already rising cock. One hand finds its way to his balls while the other traces the line of his pelvic bone, and you smirk when you feel him let out a shuddery breath.

“Fuck,” he rasps. “Someone’s eager.”

You wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, humming, and Jungkook’s fingers fly into your dampened hair. “Oh, fuck. You’re really trying to kill me, huh, princess?” he asks, and you respond by taking a little more of him into your mouth, laving at the vein running along the underside of his length before hollowing your cheeks. Jungkook throws his head back, a deep groan escaping his parted lips, and you preen under his encouragement as he urges you to take him deeper.

You’ve just begun to settle into a rhythm—figuring out exactly how much pressure he likes and what makes his hips buck—when he suddenly pushes you away. “Jung—” you begin, only to have him silence you with a searing kiss, grabbing you around the waist and hauling you to your feet.

“Wanna fuck you properly,” he rasps. His hand finds its way between your legs, experimental fingers sliding through the wetness that’s gathered there, and your cheeks heat up when he brings them to his mouth and licks them clean. “Just let me go grab a condom,” he whispers urgently. “Don’t move a muscle, okay? I’ll be righ—”

You silence him with a hard kiss. “Don’t,” you mumble. “I’m clean. Are you?”

Jungkook nods slowly, his eyes wide. “Does that mean… I mean, are you…?”

“I’m on the pill,” you murmur. “Fuck me raw, Jungkook.”

A sharp gasp escapes you when Jungkook cages you against the cool tiled wall of the shower, the slick surface dampened by the spray from the showerhead. He grabs ahold of your thigh and hoists it up to wrap around his waist, and you’ve never been more thankful for the ugly fish patterned shower mat that your mom insisted on putting down to prevent slipping. Jungkook nestles into the newly created space between your legs, his cock hot and slick against your center, and you keen when he grinds against you in a slow, deliberate motion.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, his breath hot against your cheek. “Feel how hard you get me, Noona?”

“God, Jungkook,” you breathe back. “Just fuck me already, will you?”

His answering chuckle sends a shiver from your toes to your crown. “So needy,” he murmurs, his hand sliding from your thigh to your hip. His mouth seeks out yours as he positions the head of his cock at your entrance, meeting little resistance as he slowly begins pushing inside. Your walls part willingly for him and your lips do too—his questing tongue slipping inside when you moan and beginning his seemingly endless task of mapping out every corner of your mouth.

“God, I forgot how big you are,” you breathe when he bottoms out—the entirety of his hot, heavy length sheathed within your walls. Your head falls back against the tile as he rolls his hips experimentally, a moan that sounds vaguely like Jungkook’s name escaping your lips. Your arms come up to brace on his shoulders as he picks up his pace, but he intercepts one of your hands and twines your fingers together, settling them onto the wall just to the left of your head. His other hand returns to your thigh to keep you stable and spread out for his increasingly harsh thrusts, and you whimper helplessly in his ironclad grip.

“That’s it,” he whispers, groaning when you clench around him. “God, you’re so fucking tight, princess.”

“Fuck me open, then,” you moan back, squeezing his hand and meeting his next thrust with one of your own. Jungkook’s breathing stutters, and you laugh breathlessly at the way his mouth falls open at the spike of pleasure. Emboldened, you grind against him, the spray from the shower easing the movement. “Jungkook, please.”

He chuckles hoarsely. “Careful what you wish for,” he purrs against the shell of your ear, punctuating the warning with a harsh roll of his hips that sends all remaining thought flying out of your head. In this moment, there’s only Jungkook—his dark hair dampened and dripping, the spray from the showerhead slicking his chest and pooling in his clavicle before trailing down each ridge and dip of his honeyed skin. His lips find yours again, and you sigh into the kiss as he begins to fuck you in earnest.

“Hey, Jungkook! You in there?”

Your eyes fly open at the new voice, your body tensing when there are several loud bangs on the door. Jungkook freezes mid-thrust with an expression that can only be described as a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck, his throat bobbing nervously as he fights to find a response. You can practically see the gears whirring in his brain, and shove uselessly at his chest in an attempt to escape his steely embrace.

“That’s Jimin,” you hiss urgently, turning his face toward yours and prodding his cheek until his gaze refocuses. “What the fuck are we going to do?”

“Dude.” Jimin’s voice is laced with irritation. “I wanna brush my teeth! What the hell are you doing in there?”

Jungkook hesitates, glancing between you and the closed bathroom door. Then he inhales deeply, pressing a light kiss to your furrowed forehead before pulling the shower curtain closed, ensuring there are no gaps. “I got you,” he murmurs softly, his brown eyes boring into yours. “Don’t worry, okay?”

Your eyes flutter shut at the gentle pressure of his lips against your skin, but they fly open again when Jungkook breaks away and yells for Jimin to come in. Warm palms slide soothingly down your sides, but that doesn’t stop you from tensing up when the bathroom door creaks open, your brother’s soft footsteps approaching the flimsy palm tree patterned curtain.

“Have you been showering this whole time? Jeez. Leave some hot water for the rest of us, will you?”

Jungkook chuckles. Ever so slowly, he pushes forward until he’s fully seated inside you again, and you do your best to level a glare at him even as pleasure flares at the base of your spine. “There’s plenty to go around,” he says. “Relax.”

You get the distinct feeling that he’s not just addressing Jimin anymore. Jungkook pulls back until only the top of his cock remains nestled in your folds, and you open your mouth to berate him but all that comes out is a low moan when he sinks back inside you in one swift push.

On the other side of the curtain, you hear the faucet turn on. “Man, I can’t believe we leave tomorrow,” Jimin says over the sound of running water. “The weekend flew by.”

“Mmm,” Jungkook hums, brushing a thumb across your clit. The pace he’s set is slow and deep, and is made all the more sensual by the steam that’s steadily building up in the small room. You try once more to push him away—to quell the growing ache between your legs—but it’s all in vain as he chuckles softly into the crook of your neck, his bare shoulders quaking. “I got you, princess,” he murmurs, his voice a wicked little whisper that’s immediately lost in the spray of water. “Just let me take care of you, yeah?”

You don’t have a chance to answer. Jimin starts speaking again, this time accompanied by the sound of toothbrush bristles scrubbing against his teeth. “I’m starting up at the studio as soon as we get back—isn’t that crazy? I mean, I’ve never taught anyone how to dance before. Not really. Not for real.”

Jungkook snaps his hips up so sharply that you nearly mewl in surprise, forced to bite down into his meaty shoulder to muffle the noises that threaten to escape from your throat. “You’re a great tutor, man,” he says, his voice steady even as he resumes his slow, lazy thrusts, his cock dragging along your fluttering walls. “You’ve been helping people with math for, what, two years? What makes you think it’ll be any different with dancing?”

Jimin spits into the sink and sighs. “I don’t know. It’s scarier because there’ll be more people, I guess. Tutoring is one on one, y’know? And at the studio, I’ll have a full class of people watching me. Every single move I make, they’ll be looking at. That’s fucking terrifying to think about.”

Slowly, Jungkook’s hips still, his cock buried to the hilt in your cunt. Your heartbeat drums in your ears, backed by the relentless spray from the showerhead, and Jungkook leans down to plant a wet kiss on your cheek, his hair dripping.

“You’re a great dancer, Jimin,” he says once he’s pulled back and straightened back up to his full height. “Best one I know. You’re also one of the smartest people I know, but right now, you’re being really fucking dumb.”

There’s a clatter that sounds like a plastic toothbrush being dropped into the sink, and Jimin lets out an affronted squeak. “Hey!”

Jungkook just chuckles, his shoulders quaking. “It’s true,” he says easily. “Seriously, man. You don’t have a thing to worry about. You’re gonna kick ass out there, and your class is gonna be awesome. You’re already, what, almost maxed out on the number of registrants? You’re already killing it.”

Your brother lets out an unintelligible grumble on the other side of the shower curtain, but you can still hear the smile in his voice no matter how hard he tries to mask it. “All right, you fucking sap,” Jimin says at last, his soft footsteps padding toward the door. “Hurry up and get out of there, yeah? You’re really gonna use up all the hot water.”

The door clicks shut behind him, and you immediately smack Jungkook in the middle of his stupidly toned chest. “Oh my god!” you hiss. “Are you kidding me right now, Jeon? We could’ve been caught!”

“But we weren’t,” Jungkook replies easily, shaking his dampened hair out of his face and fixing you with an indolent little smirk. “So why don’t you be a good girl and cum for me now?”

///

The next morning brings with it a whirlwind of frenzied packing, and you mentally congratulate yourself for preemptively gathering all of your belongings together last night. Minho is wandering every last inch of the house with a piece of half-eaten toast dangling from his mouth, and you can hear Taehyung in the distance asking if anyone’s seen his strawberry body wash. Jungkook is seated on the floor near the front door, his brows furrowed and his lower lip jutting out in a pout as he fights to close the zipper of his suitcase.

“Got it!” he exclaims after a few seconds, triumphant. “Where’s your stuff, Noona? I’m gonna load the car.”

You begin to stand up from your spot on the couch. “It’s in my room, let me go get—”

Jungkook is on his feet and halfway down the hall before you can even finish your sentence. He returns a moment later with your luggage in tow, shooting you a grin and a wink as he passes by. “I got you, princess,” he murmurs. “Remember?”

Of course you do. You remember like it was yesterday—because, well, it was yesterday and you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. You remember the moment you shared at the beach and the way his hand felt so right wrapped around your own. You remember the way you’d dropped to your knees for him so readily in the shower last night. And you definitely remember the way he’d fucked you afterward—slow and deep in the best possible way, even with your brother’s untimely interruption.

After what feels like an eternity, both cars are finally packed and ready to go. You bid goodbye to the boys who are riding with Jimin, promising to stay in touch, before climbing into the passenger seat of Jungkook’s beat-up sedan. Jungkook himself is already lounging behind the wheel, his sunglasses perched low on his nose as he fiddles with his phone. He looks up at your entrance and flashes you a smile, tapping his screen a few more times before holding it up so you can see.

“I changed your contact photo,” he says. “Like it?”

You peer at his phone, and something in your chest clenches when you see the photo he’s selected. You’re on the beach beside the volleyball net, illuminated by the setting sun. The sky is streaked through with pink and orange behind you, but through some editing magic, Jungkook has made it so that you are glowing even brighter in the foreground—with laughter etched across your face and the wind in your hair. It’s a beautiful photograph, and you tell him so, unable to contain the dangerously warm affection blossoming in your chest.

“I love it,” you say. “I usually don’t like having my photo taken, but wow. You have a talent for this.”

Jungkook’s smile grows. “I have a pretty muse,” he replies, and your cheeks warm.

The door to the backseat opens with a bang, and you nearly jump out of your skin at the sudden sound. “Yo,” Yugyeom says, plopping down and buckling his seatbelt. “We ready to roll?”

Jungkook scowls and puts his phone back into his pocket. “Careful with the door, man. I need this thing to last through the summer.”

Yugyeom puts his hands up in apology, and Jungkook turns back to face the front, starting the ignition with a flick of his wrist. The engine sputters to life, and Jungkook waits for Jimin to pull out first before following after him, tailing the van out of the driveway and onto the winding road that will take you back into the city.

“Music?” you ask, gesturing at the stereo.

“Go for it,” Jungkook replies. “You want my phone so you can put on the roadtrip mix?”

“Sure.”

With the help of the upbeat music and Jungkook’s tendency to drive just a touch over the speed limit, you make it to the winding roads of Yugyeom’s neighborhood in what must be record time. “You missed the turn,” Yugyeom says lazily from where he’s sprawled across the entire backseat. “Turn left here—we can circle around and approach from the other side.”

Two more turns and a descent down a steep hill later, Jungkook manages to successfully drop Yugyeom off at his house. The drive across town takes no time at all, and before long, you’re cruising into your neighborhood, coasting past Jungkook’s driveway and straight into yours.

“Looks like we beat Jimin back,” you remark, looking at the empty spot where the van usually sits.

Jungkook hums. “Makes sense. He has more people to drop off.”

“Mm. Yeah.”

The sudden awkwardness that falls doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Clearing your throat, you reach for your purse, grabbing it from where it’s fallen to the ground near your feet. “I guess I’ll see you around then,” you begin, turning to open the door.

A strong hand wraps around your wrist, forcing you back into your seat. “Is that it?” Jungkook asks, and there’s an edge of something you can’t quite place in his voice. “Are you gonna go back to pretending like there’s nothing between us?”

You shake him free. “There isn’t anything between us,” you whisper. “We’re not on vacation anymore, Jungkook. We’re back home. Back to real life. We can’t do—whatever it is that we’ve been doing.”

“But you’re attracted to me,” Jungkook growls. “You like me. So why do you keep running away?”

A sigh escapes you. “Jungkook, it doesn’t matter if I like you or no—”

He interrupts before you can even finish your sentence. “Yes it does. It’s the only thing that matters.” And then he’s pulling you into his chest, taking advantage of your skewed sense of balance, and crushing his mouth to yours.

This kiss is different from the others you’ve shared so far. It’s hungry and passionate, and yet it’s tinged with something else—something that feels strangely akin to desperation. Jungkook kisses you with urgency, and it’s so raw and unbridled that it steals the very breath from your lungs and leaves you lightheaded.

Jungkook doesn’t say a word when he pulls away. Instead, he reaches down, popping the handle that opens the trunk and stepping out to pull your suitcase from within. Silently, he presses the handle into your hand.

And then he’s turning—climbing back into his car and leaving you with nothing but the memory of his lips and a whirlwind of thoughts in your mind.

[honeyhenry]

Homeward Bound

A/N: This was NOT meant to be this long...but I was inspired and now we have this... dad!Syverson....you can thank me later :)

Warnings: army-related talk, labour, fluff (because i rue the day I actually write anything other than that)

After an honourable stint, Captain Syverson had finally finished up his active duty in the army, having chosen now to spend his life devoted and committed to you. While every second week he had to make a daily 45 minute commute up the road to train newbies needing a boot up their asses to prepare for the realities of war, Sy was able to come home to you just in time for dinner every evening. He got the best of both worlds, earning a solid pay with training up new recruits, and having the ability to make good on those promises he made you way back before he told you that the next tour would be his last.

He had kept his first promise within a month of him returning for good - giving you a shiny ring that he’d had the deposit down on for as long as he can remember. That was his most nerve-wracking promise to keep, even though you’d assured him no matter what, the answer would always be a “yes”. His second promise was also signed, sealed, and delivered within weeks of his return, most likely conceived in celebration of your engagement.

That promise had stuck with you a little more than the first; “Gonna put a baby in ya, peach. Can promise ya that I’m ready for wantin that with ya.”

Sy had arrived home in October, and there you were, round and ready to pop at the end of the following August.

During your labour on that warm summer’s day, he’d been gritting it out right beside you, clutching your hand and holding your half full cup of ice chips, using his best Captain voice in offering encouragement. Between contractions you had cried, screeched, and panicked. It had seemed Sy had given you the big baby he had been so certain of.

“Your baby’s too big Syv, it hurts so much...”

“Peach believe me, if I could I’d take all this pain for ya I would” he had comforted you, knowing by making eye contact that he meant every word. You had relaxed momentarily at the love you held for him, before the pain hit again leaving you crying and screaming once more.

And then Captain Syverson heard the words that he detests, typically uttered from his soldiers in the base camps or training rounds. 

“I can’t...”

It’s a cowards way of thinking, a poor outlook on life, and it makes the entire side weak because of one weak link. It angers him to no end, and he usually ends up heading off alone to clear his head. But not when it’s you

“I can’t do it, Sy...”

You’re the strongest person he knows, pushing out a brand new Syverson into the world with minimal medication and a steely determination for the past 14 hours. You’re no coward, and you’re by no means weak. He’s had men on his side who haven’t blinked in the face of adversity and terrorism, and yet here you were, stronger than the lot of them in every way.

“Yeah you can, peach. Ya think I’d put my baby in any ol’ fool? No it’s you, ‘cause you’re the strongest woman I know. C’mon now, let’s have us a baby.”

And then you did it, almost an hour later and she’s earth-side. As the sun had set on the last day of a sweltering August, it is as though the room cools to a warm breeze, the world stopping in its tracks as you birth your sweet baby Syverson, born in the first minutes of a new September. She’s all yours, and when the doctor announced above the primal, wild screams that “it’s a girl!” you’d looked to Sy, watching him as he cried. It was just a couple of tears, and he won’t admit that they happened, but it sure as hell doesn’t make him any less proud.

You’ve only been cooped up in the room for 24 hours, and while you and baby Syverson have been cared for and helped with the basics (along with you receiving a substantial amount of pain relief), Sy wanted you and his baby girl home so that he could be the one to take care of you both; plump your pillows, fetch you cups of tea, burp the baby, dote on her endlessly. All within the quiet, cosy home you’d made together over the past years and months. Pictures lined the walls, featuring happy memories including your courthouse wedding that had been planned and occurred within a week of knowing about baby Sy. Your big gruff man just couldn’t take not having you as his wife, especially when you were carrying his child.

There’d also been a picture of the sonogram taped to the fridge in your quaint little kitchen, courtesy of Sy wanting to see the baby each morning before heading to work, or while he cooked you a warm breakfast. It’s as though he didn't keep updated pictures in his wallet and in his truck, right next to a beautiful picture of you. From your first sonogram with “SYVERSON” printed at the top, Sy loved to see his growing family, and always taped the newest scan picture right on top, using the same piece of tape he’d just found laying around one afternoon. Now, after plenty of pictures taken on his phone, he was going to update the fridge once more to feature a picture of the little pink squish with big bug eyes and a smattering of dusty brown hair. Maybe he’ll add some new tape, too.

Now three Syversons would live in this home, where old caps, worn from war and still grimy after a couple of washes, lay around the house, and where a still somewhat-tinged green Aika would roam freely - except on the bed. Sy was adamant that Aika never jumped or slept on the marital bed. That was his place, with his woman. The wooden interior and cosy fireplace that Sy himself had built, made it an even more homely and special place for you both to live. The perfect place out in the country to raise your girl. 45 minutes from Sy’s work, 15 to the local school. It was a dream, and now it had come true, as you watch him lift your princess into the baby carrier, fastening her in and watching her little pouty face as he removes his large, warm hands that you know she must adore being held by already.

He’s so glad that he can now take you both home. He insists on carrying both the baby carrier and the hospital bag from the past few days as you both leave the room where your girl entered the world, now entering the real world and all the opportunities she would have out there to explore. Since you don’t have to lift a thing, you just get to watch the sweet view of the “scary” Captain Sy check things off mentally to make sure you've brought everything.

“As long as we bring the baby home, I think we’ll be okay” you grin, and he blinks out of his organised, battle-ready mindset for a moment, remembering that this wasn’t some covert operation. This was a big deal, but one that is exciting and new and as Sy turns to look at his daughter again, it seems he’s already forgotten how tiny she is. She’s wrapped up, but Sy insists that he wraps the carrier with his flannel top, protecting the baby from both the sun, and any chill that pierces the air. He can’t resist a final little peek into the baby carrier as you sign the final documents to discharge you both from the hospital. You even hear him talk to your sweet girl, having one of their first little talks together.

“i’ll show ya a real home, just wait. Nun’a this bright light and doctors nonsense. Got a crib with your name on it ya can be all cosy in. Built it myself while Momma watched. You are gonna be so loved up with her, she is everything sweet in the world. Just like you princess.”

“I thought i was your princess?” you interrupt him and...is that a blush you see mark his cheeks? If only his men knew the state you could get the great Captain Syverson into, and most likely that your baby girl will be able to as well.

“You’ve been promoted peach, after all that giving birth to her, you’re a queen among peasants. I got two number 1 gals now. Gotta be ya knight in shinin’ armour.”

All the war torn memories, the killing, and the violence from his past, doesn’t mean a thing. It baffles him to this day - he still doesn't know how he’s ended up with two slices of heaven in you and your baby girl, but he’s selfish and he’s keeping you all for himself.

“You can be a Captain to your men but you’re our King, Sy. I know you’ll always protect us, and she’ll grow up knowing that too. Now come on. Let’s get her out of here. Lead the way Daddy?” you grin, watching as he proudly marches through the doors of the ward with a tight grip on the baby carrier, while the bag is slung over his shoulder.

The rest of his life with you and baby Syverson, just waiting on the other side.

taglist: @seriouslygoodlookinggents @ohmygoodie 

[spencerspecifics]

HI HI HI PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WRITE MOREID AT PRIDE AND SOME PINING AND SPENCER THINKS DEREK IS STRAIGHT BUT HE ISN'T AND THEY KIIIITTTTTHHHHH

I absolutely love your energy fuck yes!! I’m so sorry this took forever, ive got school, work and some other personal things happening so I appreciate your patience!

No TW, B u t, a creep hits on Spencer at pride, so if that is upsetting please note that! Thanks :)

———————————————————————

Pride

———————————————————————

Garcia had been pestering Spencer about going to pride for the past week now, and it was slowly driving him insane.

He used almost every excuse he could think of. When he first turned her down, he had simply said, “Sorry, I’m going to be busy that week.” And of course, Garcia being Garcia, she stole his calendar to see what he was busy with (spoiler alert: he had nothing. Except a reminder to go grocery shopping, and email some professors and research scientists back).

So, she persisted, and he came up with a dozen more excuses; “I was considering flying out to see my mom”, “The local museum has a new interactive archeology exhibit for adults, and I want to learn more about ancient structures”, “I have to do a presentation on thermodynamics”.

None of those excuses work, as she sniffed out every lie, “Spencer, you hate flying to Vegas last minute, that archaeology exhibit has been open for months, and your calendar is empty!”

So with her persistence, and legitimate bullying, Spencer found himself finally agreeing. “Fine, but come over to my apartment before we leave so you can help me.” After all, he wasn’t really familiar with pride parades, and what the scene was like there. He was going to be a fish out of water, he already knew that for certain.

~

True to her word, Garcia showed up an hour before the pride parade was set to start, carrying a coffee in each hand- how she possibly knocked on his apartment door, Spencer didn’t know.

“I brought you a pick me up, that way you have no excuse to be in a bad mood!” She spoke in her signature sing song voice as Spencer let her inside, she barreled in like a hurricane. God, Spencer wasn’t ready for this.

“Thanks..” Spencer decided to reply with that lame response, and not with what he was actually thinking. He took the coffee from her wordlessly as she stepped in further, going to sit down on his couch.

“You excited?” Garcia asked as she set her cup down on his cluttered coffee table. Reid just shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t do great with crowds.”

“But you do great with disarming murderers?” “You know that’s different-” Spencer said, doing his best to argue, “Reid it is literally not. Both are anxiety inducing, but one is life or death, and it’s not pride. So you can do this.”

Spencer sighed, resigning himself to not arguing with Garcia. Because she was right, though at times her arguments sounded wild. He just had to get over this anxiety and show up at pride, he could do this, right?

~

Wrong. So, very, wrong. They had left his apartment with thirty minutes to spare, deciding to walk over to where pride was being held- as it was only a few blocks away in a public park.

And as soon as they got there, Spencer wanted out. There were so many people, more than he estimated (and his estimations were usually spot on.), and there was just chaos everywhere. Music, dancing, shouting, singing, drag queens running around happily. Spencer wasn’t sure what to do. He was out of his element.

Garcia seemed to sense that, though, as she dragged Spencer over to some stalls that sold pride flags, pins, and other miscellaneous pride related things.

“C’mon Reid, why don’t you look around and find something you like?” She offered up, something for him to do- something for him to stay busy with. He could do that. Spencer nodded simply, Garcia stayed by his side- looking at pride related wear for herself.

~

Spencer ended up deciding on a small pin that simply said; “love all”, planning to stick it on his messenger bag strap. Garcia bought a pin as well, but hers just had her pronouns on them; “she/her/hers”.

Looking at all the pride apparel was a good distraction for Spencer, he felt a lot more calmer now- though that didn’t stop him from feeling like he stuck out like a sore thumb. He’s just not familiar with this world, and it’s awkward to suddenly be in the middle of it.

Spencer was in the middle of looking at another booth that sold flags, possibly considering buying himself a small one to stick in his pencil cup at work, because Garcia left him to go compliment a drag queen- when a voice broke through.

“Hey, pretty boy!”

That was a voice all too familiar, what on earth was Morgan doing here? Spencer looked up at him as he made his way towards him. “Hey,” Spencer spoke awkwardly. Not sure what to say.

Spencer was gay. He was fine with admitting he was gay, but he hadn’t really told the team. He thought they figured it out on their own. And they probably had, but still, having his coworker see him at a pride event- it was anxiety inducing.

“What’re- what’re you doing here?” Spencer asked, stumbling over his words as he dropped the small flag he was holding back onto the vendors table.

“Oh, well I’m on the local PFLAG committee. I’m just here to hand out flyers and stuff. But I’m glad to see you’re here, I’m guessing Garcia’s here too?” He asked Spencer casually, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Spencer.

He was on the PFLAG committee? Why? To help queer people, obviously, but that had to mean he was gay or something- Spencer couldn’t stop his mind from coming up with every possible answer to why Derek was on the committee.

Spencer just nodded in response, he moved himself back from the vendors table to get out of the way, so other customers could look at the flags being sold.

“Yeah, she’s- there.” Reid pointed her out, as if on cue she came out of the thick crowd that had started to gather back up, the parade portion of pride had concluded by now, and people were coming over to the vendors section.

“Hey, Babygirl!” Derek called over to her, and Garcia somehow lit up with a smile brighter than the one she was wearing before, “Well, hey!” She responded enthusiastically, walking up swiftly to give Derek a quick embrace, which he happily returned.

“I wasn’t sure how long you were staying for, but I’m glad I caught you!” Garcia started rambling to Derek, about how the drag queen she met was so nice; “Her name was Mysteria Hysteria. Isn’t that genius?”.

~

Spencer just stepped back from them both, not sure what to do, not sure if he fully belonged. Pride was a nice event, it was. But the longer he stood around, the more he felt like he should be leaving. Everyone was laughing and smiling, everyone was just happy. And Spencer couldn’t stop racking his brain. In the beginning, he couldn’t stop thinking because of his anxiety, but now he was searching his brain for a reason why Derek was here and what it meant.

Of course, a stupid large portion of Spencer’s mind went to “maybe Morgan likes men”, and then an even larger and stupider portion of his mind had the absurdity to think; “maybe he’s interested in me”. Which Spencer did not even want to remotely entertain, because if he fell down that rabbit hole, he’d never climb back out.

Because yes, he did like Derek. He liked him a lot, the start for his liking towards the man was innocuous enough- which is why it was a problem for Spencer. He didn’t realized he liked Morgan until it was too late. And now he had been battling these feelings for years. Spencer wasn’t ever going to act on them, he just had to live with them- which he had been doing, which he has been content with. But this new information, about Morgan being here, being part of PFLAG- it was going to make Reid’s mind implode in on itself.

~

Reid decided the best thing was to say; “I’m gonna get some water, I’ll be back.” To which Derek and Garcia both nodded to, and Spencer was off, away from the vendors stand and the only two people he knew at pride.

And while that was a good thing, it was simultaneously not so good. Because now he was alone, overwhelmed, and thinking too much. And now he had a task to do, find himself some water.

~

That task seemed to be more difficult than anticipated, as the prides layout was a confusing maze, spencer had to pass in front of a group of drag queens in order to get to the food trucks that were on site- but he eventually got there.

He walked up to the first food truck he saw, it didn’t matter what they sold, he wasn’t getting it.

“What can I get for you?” The cashier asked him, “Just a water, please.” He ordered, the cashier nodded and pulled a bottle out from a cooler that was nearby within the truck, handing it over to spencer as they told him his total, a dollar twenty five. Spencer paid quickly, stepping back and away from the food truck, as he wasn’t sure where else to go now. He didn’t want to go back towards Derek or Garcia, he honestly wanted to go home.

He just needed a minute, some space and time to breathe and relax. He was stressing himself out. And about what? Nothing of goddamn importance, just a stupid crush he had been living with for a while now.

~

Spencer had been leaning against the back the food truck for not long, only a couple of minutes as he was absorbed in thought as he fiddled with the cap on the water bottle.

He was doing his best to follow the grounding techniques he had learned, something to help him calm down, when suddenly- a stranger emerged out of the crowd.

“Hey there, handsome.” The man said confidently as he strode up to introduce himself Spencer. Spencer looked up to meet his eyes, the man in question was a fine looking guy, chiseled jawline, long shoulder length hair, a bit of facial stubble. He was handsome. “Hello,” Spencer answered hollowly in response. In an ordinary situation, he would try and seem more lively- but he wasn’t in a normal situation, not at all.

The anxiety of attending pride was stress enough on its own, but now knowing the guy he had been drooling over for years was here- and worked as a PFLAG volunteer? It was enough to make him lose his mind.

The man didn’t seem to notice Spencer’s empty response, however, as he answered suavely in response; “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the way. I’m Fabian,” Thankfully, the man- Fabian, didn’t stick his hand out for a handshake, instead casually pushing his hair back a bit.

“I’m Spencer,” Reid replied simply, knowing it was best to ride this odd social interaction out, rather than try and fight it. “That’s a lovely name,” Fabian complimented, “Is this your first time at pride, Spencer?” He asked him casually, taking a step forward, closer to Spencer. He was all too confident for Spencer, he too comfortable with invading Spencer’s space. If Spencer could’ve, he would’ve stepped back.

“Uh, yeah. My friend dragged me along.” Reid explained, twisting the bottle cap back onto his half empty water bottle. Fabian nodded, “Your boyfriend didn’t take you?” Fabian asked him. That was a leading question, Spencer had alarm bells ringing in his head the second he heard it. “No. He- um- he met up with us here.” Spencer replied unconvincingly, Fabian obviously did not believe a word he said.

“Well,” Fabian took another step forward, practically blocking Reid in against the back of the food truck, leaning in farther to whisper in Spencer’s ear; “I don’t see him around. So, why don’t you and I get out of here? Hm?”

Spencer wasn’t sure of what to do. He wanted to kick this guy in the crotch and just book it, but he wasn’t sure if his FBI status would protect him in this scenario. He wasn’t sure what could protect him in this scenario.

“Pretty boy! There you are!” A saving grace broke through, and suddenly Fabian was stepping back, and Morgan was walking up.

Thank god, thank fucking god, that’s all Spencer could manage to think as Derek came to stand beside him. “Hey, babe.” Spencer said, cringing at his voice, at what he just said. But that feeling only lasted for a moment as Fabian was still standing right there, staring them both down now.

Spencer could only throw his wish in the sky and hope Derek caught it coming down, ‘please catch along to why I’m calling you babe’ Reid was trying to say.

And Derek caught it, “Hey, baby, was worried about you. Who’s your friend?” He said in his smooth voice, a voice Spencer couldn’t forget. He especially couldn’t forget now, being called ‘baby’ was something Spencer especially could not forget.

“I’m Fabian, you’re Spencer’s boyfriend?” Fabian asked, as if them both calling each other ‘babe’ counted for nothing. “Yeah, I’m Derek.” Morgan responded simply, sliding his hand around Spencer’s waist as if to prove a point. Fabian just nodded, looking between Spencer and Derek one last time before talking; “Well, it was nice to meet you, I’ve gotta get going. See you.”

And then, he was off, fast walking away from Derek and Reid, escaping the terrible situation he had created. Fabian quickly disappeared into the thick crowd, and by then Spencer had his hand squeezing his water bottle all too tightly- as evident by the terrible crunch sound it made. He was too anxious to let go.

“Hey, are you okay?” Derek asked him softly, pulling his hand away from Spencer’s waist. “Can we find somewhere else- can we go sit down?” Spencer asked him quickly. Reid didn’t want to talk about it right this second, right where it had happened. He wanted to leave, he wanted to leave pride and never come back.

~

Derek didn’t ask a single follow up question as he led Reid away from the food trucks, taking him back towards the vendors stands, and then a bit further back, into the normal-not-so-pride-parade-filled park area. Somewhere less stressful, less scary.

“What did that guy want?” Derek asked Spencer casually as they made their way towards a bench that was sat under a large oak tree. Spencer didn’t speak right away, instead he waited until they were seated to start talking.

“He was trying to flirt, but then he wanted me to leave with him.” Spencer explained as he took a deep breath in, just being away from all the loud sounds and sights was helping him calm down. Derek rubbed Spencer’s back in slow, circular motions as Spencer kept talking.

“He was a classic example of a narcissistic personality, it just made me so uncomfortable- he invaded my space.”

“He was a creep, Reid. Simple as that,” Derek kept rubbing Spencer’s back slowly, Spencer nodded. “I know. Sorry, it shook me up.” Spencer attempted to apologized, and Derek was immediately having none of that.

“Reid, no. Don’t apologize for that, don’t you dare. He was a creep, I’m sorry you got caught up with him. It’s okay if you’re shaken up. We can stay here until you feel up to going back, or we can leave. But I’m not leaving you.”

~

And so they sat for a good amount of time on that park bench, at one point Derek stopped rubbing Spencer’s back, instead just keeping his arm stretched out against the back of the bench and against Spencer’s back. Spencer loved it, but he knew if he thought about it for too long he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking. That was his biggest problem, he couldn’t stop thinking.

He had to know, he decided, he couldn’t just wonder why Derek was on the committee for PFLAG. He wanted to know, he had to.

“Derek?” He spoke up softly, sounds of laughing and shouting and music were still heard in the distance, but they were safe from the sounds under the tree. “Mhm?” Derek hummed in response, looking up at the aforementioned tree that was providing shade for them.

His eyes were tracing the way the branches curved and bent around each other, it was something he did to pass the time. Spencer thought he was extraordinary for it, Derek loved to see where things went; he was curious- after all these years, and all the bad they had seen together, Derek still loved to search and find the beauty.

“Why are you on the PFLAG committee ?” Spencer asked him, it was thankfully an innocuous enough ask to not draw too much of Derek profilings side out to pry apart his question. Derek shrugged, and was quiet for a second before responding, “I know what it’s like to be a scared kid, unsure of his identity. If I can help someone through that, that’s all that matters. Same reason I’m in the BAU, to help people.”

Spencer stayed quiet, Derek’s reason was so sincere and so sweet and kind- and only driving him to think further. Was Derek still unsure of his identity? Was he an ally? Why did he have to make Spencer swoon so hard without even trying?

“So, you’re just an ally?” Spencer approached Derek carefully with that question, not wanting to impose or be rude- but just feign simple curiosity, praying Derek wasn’t using his profiling skills right now to decode Spencer’s fake motive.

Derek didn’t notice, thankfully, as he chuckled lowly in response; “No, pretty boy, I’m bisexual. I don’t really tell the team, but it’s not confidential information. Plus, Garcia found Grindr on my phone. Can’t hide anything from that girl.”

Spencer nodded, mumbling something in response about how Garcia had hacked his email to make sure he was free for pride. And then, the two fell into silence again. But it didn’t last for long, because Derek wanted to know just as much, why was Spencer here?

“What about you, Reid?” Derek asked him cautiously, the way you approach a puppy you find on the side of the road. Calm and slow, trying to get him to trust him bit by bit. “What about me?” Spencer asked, not wanting to answer anything about himself unless Derek was specific.

“Are you an ally?” Morgan asked him, leaving the question open ended. Spencer could say as little or as much as he wanted. This is how you get him to open up, Derek knew that for a fact. “Um.. yeah, I mean- who isn’t? I just- I have to be. I’m.. gay.” Spencer admitted all too awkwardly, not at all in a normal fashion. But nothing about Spencer was in normal fashion.

Derek nodded slowly, not responding as he stared back up, tracing his eyes over the tree branches yet again.

~

A few hours had passed, Spencer and Derek eventually left their peaceful bench under the large oak tree, and instead moved back towards the parking lot.

“Garcia’s got a ride home already- I think she got that drag queen to get her home.” Derek explained as they approached his truck, Spencer nodded as he followed Derek. “Anyways,” Derek continued speaking, “I can give you a ride home. Let’s get going.”

“You don’t have to-“ Spencer started, Derek immediately shut him down. “I want to, c’mon. It’s late, you’re tired. I know you are. Let me take you home.” Spencer just nodded in agreement, he couldn’t argue with Derek, even if he did try. Morgan was a stubborn man.

So, Spencer followed Derek into his truck, and they sat in comfortable silence as they started on their journey back to Spencer’s safe space, his apartment.

~

By the time Derek pulled his truck into the apartments parking lot, Spencer knew something was just the slightest bit wrong. Derek had barely spoken for the entire ride, and usually he loves to say something, to make Spencer smile or laugh, or even just nod and mumble in agreement. But he had done none of that on the way to Spencers.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, turning to face Derek as he put the vehicle in park. Derek didn’t meet his eyes, staring at the steering wheel instead as he spoke; “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just thinking.”

“About what?” Spencer pried, absentmindedly unbuckling his seatbelt as he spoke, “About today.” Derek said, not explaining further. “Was today bad?”

Derek shook his head, “No. It started weird, it’s ending pretty good, though. But I’m gonna regret today forever if I don’t do something right now.”

Now, Spencer was confused. Not sure at all what Derek could be talking about, “What do you mean?” He asked, voice quieter than before.

Derek said nothing as he unbuckled his own seatbelt, turning to face Spencer as well, and then he leaned in- closer than they had ever been before. Their noses were almost touching, and Spencer didn’t move. Instead, he watched Derek’s eyes expectantly.

Then, Derek broke through, they were no longer intersecting each other’s personal space- now they were fully destroying each other’s atmospheres. Derek’s lips were on Spencer’s, a chaste, soft, quick kiss- something Spencer would have wanted to go for a lot longer. But then, he pulled away just as fast.

“...That’s what I meant..” He mumbled after a second, looking back towards the steering wheel, looking away from Spencer- and more importantly, not seeing the smile on Spencer’s face.

Spencer couldn’t help it. He knew it was terrible to be smiling right now- he should jump and say something to fix what was happening. But he had to smile, he couldn’t believe that had actually just happened, his brain was still computing and re-circuiting, trying to savor the memory and not forget how Derek’s lips felt against his.

Spencer dragged himself out of his own head quickly, though. He did all he could think of to do in the moment, get Derek back. “Morgan.” Spencer said, tugging on Derek’s sleeve as he did so, forcing him to look back at Spencer and meet his eyes again.

But Spencer didn’t say anything, and he didn’t give Derek the chance to speak, either. Instead, he leant forward, pressing his lips against Derek’s. This is all he had wanted to know for the longest time, and now he had it.

~

Maybe pride wasn’t so bad after all, you just have to be with the right people for it to work out.

———————————————————————

[homieswithhades]

why steve rogers returning to the past was wrong

disclaimer: im clearly a stucky enthusiast, but please, do not be thrown off by that. i admit, there may be undertones of bias because of that in the following, but i did my best with trying to lay out the facts and draw logical conclusions, so do please give me a chance. also, i may have accidentaly omitted some moments and some quotes may not be 100% word for word, as my memory lowkey sucks. ALSO this is NOT a peggy hate post!! i think shes a dope and underrated character and quite frankly she was done dirty. but i also definitely h8 the trope of badass woman falls for the hero.

first and foremost, every sane person knows endgame was complete and utter bullshit when dealing with steves character, so this post will be more for you to maybe show (and hopefully convince) some stubborn friend or family member. nice, concise (not) and including proof from the movies (+a few tweets and stucky undertones, if u dont fw that i respect it but bucky is an integral part to steves character regardless of how u interpret their relationship) here is why steves character development was thrown away at the end of endgame.

let us begin at looking at the cap trilogy.

in ca:tfa it should be noted that steve had no one to return to in the 40s, except bucky. i believe steves relationship with peggy was no where near as developed as it should have been to elicit him returning exclusively for her. as we are aware, steves driving force has absolutely always been bucky. bucky was there for steve after his parents died, when he was sick, and always protected him from whatever trouble he got himself into. "until the end of the line" right? steves relationship with peggy was forced and short lived, literally, we're talking a matter of months here. i need to keep emphasising the important disparity between bucky and peggy, as it is absolutely key in this whole argument. steve dropped everything and went against every order just to even attempt to save bucky. even the slightest chance of him surviving being captured was enough for steve to break into a hydra camp and free the 107th division. steve even had the chance to capture zola, one of the main villains and masterminds of the war, but again, steve prioritised bucky. when theyre trying to escape the exploding hydra camp, the exchange between steve and bucky is critical. steve says "go! get out of here!" as all he wanted was bucky escaping safely. he put bucky's life over his own (this wasnt the first time he did this, nor the last) but bucky rooted himself to the spot, and yelled back "no, not without you!". they both escaped safely as we know, and then steve gathers the howling commandos to take down the red skull. bucky then falls off the train, nd steve blames himself for his death, even visibly crying over it twice. steves morals went from "i dont wanna kill anyone. i dont like bullies, i dont care where theyre from" before buckys death, to "i wont stop until all of hydra are dead or captured" after. stuff happens and steve defeats the red skull and is now in control of the flying ship with the bombs. he connects the comms with peggy and she tries to convince him theres another way to disarm the ship. steve was so dedicated at that point he didnt even want to hear it. he didnt even attempt to do anything to ensure his survival. this alone proves, peggy was not important enough to him to return to.

next is ca:tws. The stevebucky movie. in the museum, peggy confirms that steve saved the man from the 107th division who eventually became her husband (steve was never in the 107th, just to clarify) i believe her husbands name was daniel sousa (as revealed in the marvels agents of shield show) steve then finds out peggy is alive and talks to her. she, in short, tells him she's lived her life, and it was his turn to live his in the time hes in. the "my best girl" line was unnecessary and out of place; again, steve barely knew her. again, shit goes down, and steve finds out the winter soldier is bucky and immediately drops everything, and becomes dead set on saving him. not killing, not imprisoning, but saving him. no matter the cost. "he saw me, and he didnt even know me" "hes not the kind you save, hes the kind you stop. he won't recognise you" "he will." god, steve KNEW bucky would recognise him. regardless of the brainwashing, steve managed to break through the barrier hydra fought so hard to drill into buckys mind. nothing ever broke him out of that state exept for steve. "im not gonna fight you, youre my friend." "youre my mission" "then finish it. cos im with you till the end of the line." [[good fucking lord let me break out of my essay-esque semi professional format here and just say how fucking heartbreaking those lines are. oh my god. read them, over and over until it hits you.]] steve shows us again, that he is willing to not only die for bucky, but literally die by his hand. he would let bucky kill him. he'd dropped his shield. he didnt fight back. steve always, always, ALWAYS got up and fought back. always. exept that time. the time bucky could have killed him. that scene is the essence of "im with you till the end of the line" because then, it was true. it was true because steve was okay with dying at buckys mercy. theres a difference between sacrificing yourself for the greater good (steve going into the ice), willing to die for someone (steve risking his life multiple times in attempts to save bucky) and finally, being willing to let someone kill you, because you love and trust them so much (hellicarier scene). the difference between peggy and bucky's relationship to steve is that steve may be willing to die for either, but only willing to be killed by one. not to mention, bucky pulled steve from the river. he recognised him. steve broke through 70 years of brainwashing with such impact it literally drove bucky away from hydra out of his own free will.

in between ca:tws and ca:cw its confirmed (im p sure sam says it) that him and steve looked for bucky for two. years. even off screen, bucky was steves priority.

im going to squeeze in 2 points from from age of ultron here, for chronology's sake:

steves worst nightmare, as portayed in the movie, is LITERALLY going back to the 40s and being stuck there (with peggy too??lmfao) and also the quote "family, stability, the man who wanted all that went in the ice 75 years ago. i think another one came out." objectively confirms that steve isn't the man he used to be, and doesnt want to return to the past. aou may have sucked, but that doesn't mean the character development should be thrown away.

ca:cw. hoo boy. steve went against 117 countries and half of his closest friends and colleagues because he believed bucky was innocent of the bombing of the un conference. god, steve quite literally, did everything to defend and protect bucky. though i shall acknowledge that steve did attend peggy's funeral, however, there was no real connotations there other than the fact he was mourning her death (understabdibly so). steve then proceeds to protect bucky for 2 hours 27 mins and 41 seconds to the point where they escape together to siberia after the airport fight. "i dont know if im worth all this steve" "what you did all those years... it wasnt you. you didnt have a choice." "i know. but i did it" again, absolutely heartbreaking quotes if you read it a couple of times and truly understand the meaning of them. steve somewhat indirectly tells bucky yes, yes he is worth all of this. otherwise, he wouldn't be doing it. a quote to support that would be "for the longest time, i always did what i thought was right." (disclaimer this is not a direct quote i deadass couldnt find it to save my life, i belive steve said it at some point during civil war or tws, but the point is, bucky is the only thing that could have shaken steves morals so intensely.) and finally, the most important part of cw, the fight at the end with tony. bucky and steve constantly protected each other. steve kept fighting because he was fighting for bucky. to keep him safe from tony and the world. he got up, time and time again. "i can do this all day." the fact that he said that to tony, some people consider them the closest of friends, proves again, a million times over, bucky is more important to steve than literally anything else, INCLUDING his shield. his mantle. he dropped it and left it like it was nothing, because his priority was bucky. as always.

theres not much to discuss for infinity war other than their hug whicg was honestly just adorable.

mmmmm endgame. i will not go into how much i hate that movie because it would be a rant quintuple the length of this one. in the support group, steve dead ass fucking says "you gotta move on. you gotta move on" and that sentiment was literally forgotten at the end. my main point for endgame is this. people tend to tell me, the reason steve abandoned bucky and went back to be with peggy is because he knew that he was finally safe. :/. if you had half a braincell youd know that's not true. the steve we know, never would have left bucky for good, ESPECIALLY after the "dont do anything stupid until i get back" exchange [[god i want to beat the shit out of the r*ssos]] mostly because, bucky had fucking no one in the time he was living in!!! no family, no friends and most heartbreakingly, no one he could trust. (yes sam was there but were just seeing their friendship develop now in tfatws, all that wasnt there in endgame) and secondly, what made steve think bucky was entirely safe??? half of the worlds population just suddenly reappeared, which as we see now, there were massive consequences for that. i simply believe steve is not that stupid. steve going back was disrespectful not only to his character, but to bucky AND peggy. most importantly, the steve we've been watching since 2011 would NEVER abandon bucky, no matter how safe he thought he was (he visited him frequently in wakanda, the safest place on the planet arguably ffs) especially for such a dumbass and quite frankly, nonsensical reason as going back to be with peggy, who clearly stated to him she moved on, and so should he (which he did. idk endgame writers prolly didnt watch the previous movies :/) its not even debatable. bucky is more important to steve than peggy. even in terms of screentime.

now allow some tweets to speak for me, this one being the absolute most important one:

ladies and gentlefolk, all of the stuff ive said can be summarised in that last line. "it would be contrary to who he is."

heres some more:

and now finally, id like to briefly mention steve and tfatws, so beware of spoilers (writing this as of ep 4 coming out; praying it doesn't age badly)

bucky mentions steve, unprompted, fucking constantly. he clearly isnt over steve leaving, and im hoping that gets acknowledged and talked out in the show.

in conclusion, tl:dr, steve shouldn't have returned to the past and stayed there, it is contrary to who he is, as shown to us through his trilogy and other appearances in the mcu. not to mention the timeline bullshit in endgame makes zero sense in the first place.

[thisisgonnafuxkinkillme]

Pro Heros Comforting an S/O with various chronic illnesses

All Might/ Yagi Toshinori

For being a chronically ill person, you were a big baby about being sick. Well, for you, there was two types of ‘being sick’. One, the usual, was the everyday upkeep of your body, with the usual minimal discomfort of working a machine with missing or loose parts. On the other hand, another type of ‘sick’ would be you hunched over the toilet, or sweating in bed with a trashcan by your face, or sobbing in the shower because of how shit you feel. 

Today was one of those sick sick days. 

You never admitted to anyone when you were having an especially hard day like today, sometimes not even yourself. In between bouts of puking up the small amount of food you should’ve been able to keep down, you’d convince yourself that it was just because it was stale, or that this was a fluke, or even try telling yourself that you were over reacting. 

So when your boyfriend gently asked if you were feeling okay to be home by yourself, you enthusiastically replied, “of course I am! Go ahead and go to work, I’ll be fine!”

So, he did. 

And you were definately not fine. 

Mere moments after he left, you were hovering over the toilet bowl, heaving up bile. You screamed at your body to just stop, to please just give up, but it couldn’t hear you. Instead, it did what it knew how to do best: be sick.

Finally, it was over, and you found refuge pressed up against the cool tile of the bathroom floor. 

You were a mess of sweat, tears, snot, and puke. 

Thinking of that just made even more tears stream out of your puffy eyes. 

Pathetic. 

You shakily turned on the shower. Maybe a cold shower will snap you out of it. Your clothes didn’t matter; they’re just pajamas. So, you crawled into the shower, looking for refuge. 

The ice cold water pelted your blanched flesh mercilessly, providing both relief and shock to your system.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying your best to ignore your cramping abdomen and pay attention to the cool, refreshing liquid rolling down your back. 

In the end, though, you couldn’t focus on either of these things. 

Someone knocked at the bathroom door. By the way the person knocked, light and inquisitive, you knew it had to be him. 

He called out your name.

“Are you okay in there? Something told me to come check on you one more time,” he asked through the door. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. He knocked again, a little harder this time. 

Still, you didn’t have the strength to respond. You rested your head onto the shower wall weakly. 

The doorknob wiggled noisily before he was in. 

“Oh, honey...” he murmured as he fully understood the situation. He flushed the toilet and opened the window to let in some fresh air. 

“I’m going to open up the shower now, okay?” 

He carefully pulled back the curtain and turned off the water. His heart panged to see you struggling like this. 

Like him.

He took a moment to cradle your cheek in his palm, cooing your name.

“I’m going to get you some fresh clothes. Don’t try standing up by yourself, okay? I’ll be right back,” he instructed gently. You nodded weakly.

He returned with some fresh pajamas and a towel. You shook your head.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he inquired, stroking your hair. You couldn’t help but begin to cry. It was so humiliating being taken care of. Hell, even needing to be taken care of was degrading. 

You squeaked out tiny words between sobs. He patiently tried his best to understand what had you so upset, but he just couldn’t hear you. 

So, his only chioce was to continue to clean you up. 

Gently, ever so gently, he dried you with the towel as best as he could with your soaked clothes on.

“Pumpkin, I hate to ask you this, but...can I take off these clothes to help you get into new ones? I promise I won’t look.” 

You sobbed pitifully. 

“I...Let me...let me try,” you managed to get out. He nodded.

“I’ll be right outside the door. Knock if you need any help at all,” he assured, kissing you sweetly on the forehead before leaving you alone. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to see you naked; he already had done that. It was just...you didn’t want him to see you like this.

Shakily, you stood up, grabbing the clothes. Your feet stepped out of the tub, only supported on shakey knees.

Knees that gave up on you.

Within an instant, you were collapsed onto the floor. You gasped at the impact, the wind being knocked out of you.

Toshinori was by your side before you could blink. He helped you sit up, asking tenderly if you were in any pain. You shrugged.

He sighed deeply.

“I...I’m so... sorry. You shouldn’t-“ you stammered before he shut you down.

“No. I should. It’s okay for you to need help. I understand. It’s not an inconvenience.”

“...but... your job... your students...”

“They’ll be fine. Right now, let me focus on you,” he asserted. You nodded, allowing him to undress and towel dry you before redressing you.

“Can you stand?” He asked. You thought for a moment before shaking your head. Instantly, the bathroom filled with smoke, and he appeared to you in his much more muscular form in order to carry you.

He being sick himself could never hope to carry you in his skinnier state.

You didn’t care however he looked. It was just that he was there. That he cared.

You were carried bridal style to your bed, and placed down ever so gingerly. Smoke surrounded you once again, cradling you for a moment before dissipating and revealing your boyfriend in his true form.

He leaned against the bed frame, coughing into a tissue.

A pang of guilt hit you, seeing how he’d sacrificed just a tiny bit of himself to keep you comfortable.

You pushed the guilt away, replacing it with warm love.

Instead of apologizing, you murmured a “Thank you.”

Aizawa Shouta

Today was a good day. Your joints weren’t achey, and you felt good enough to even go to the store with your boyfriend. Usually, he’d go by himself, or do a curb side pickup to save time, but you insisted that you wanted to go.

“Sho, please. I’ll be fine,” you assured him.

“I don’t want you to overwork yourself,” he replied skeptically. He knew your fighting spirit coming through when he saw your determined eyes, so he knew his words were of no use. However, he also was deeply worried about the pain that could show up later on that night.

Those were the hardest on Aizawa. He usually wasn’t home at night, so when he’d come into the bedroom and see the bedsheets strewn across the floor and your pain medications sitting idly on your dresser, the cap on sideways, he’d be instantly racked with guilt. He wanted to be there for you. Even if it meant seeing you in pain. He just wanted to be able to do whatever he possibly could to help alleviate things just a little for you.

Today, though, he relented, and you found yourself at the local grocery store. You chose to not bring your cane, opting to try to pretend that you were a perfectly healthy young person.

Bad idea.

About half way through your shopping trip, you could feel the beginnings of a flare up.

“Sho... Could you help me?”

He instantly took on your weight on one arm.

“Do you need to go home?” He asked quietly as to not stir the other customers. You shook your head.

“I’ll get you something. Hold on.”

And like that, he was gone and you were alone in the bread aisle.

You sighed, rubbing your forehead.

Stupid! You should’ve known better!

It wasn’t long before he was back, riding on a mobility scooter. He stood up, gesturing towards it.

You knew it’d help, but...

“What will people think?” You whimpered before you could even think about it.

He scoffed.

“Geez, baby. I hope you realize that other people’s opinions should never trump your own comfort.”

You nodded, still anxious about how it’d look for someone like you to be using something like that.

“But...what if someone actually needs it?” You ask as you guide yourself into the seat.

“You need it. It’s okay,” he reassured plainly.

That night, you had no pain. All your body was filled with was butterflies as Aizawa gently cuddled you to sleep.

Sir Nighteye/Mirai Sasaki

You’ve always been sick. It was a part of your identity that you’d come to terms with. Sure, your life was shaped different than everyone else’s, but you didn’t mind much. 

You brewed yourself some tea, breathing in the fresh steam from the kettle. The warm air made its way past your oxygen tube, warming you from the inside out. Today was going to be a good day. You could tell that much by the light rays of sun filtering past the blinds, and the way you weren’t a coughing mess by now. Usually, you were signaled to remember to take your meds and do your treatments by your own sputtering and coughing, but today, things were going a little different so far. 

Your boyfriend came into the kitchen, stretching a little, causing his bones to crack and pop. He retrieved his black coffee from the pot, lightly and lovingly brushing his hand across your upper arm as he moved. 

You instantly tensed up.

“Don’t do that,” you frowned, glaring at him, “it’s too early in the morning to think about that yet.”

He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence.

“Your quirk. Don’t use it on me.”

He put both hands up, “If you wish for me not to touch you, I won’t.”

“That’s...not what I’m asking for and you know it.”

He allowed himself a tiny smile. He did know that. 

You turned around, moving your attention back to your tea. Mirai stared at you lovingly as he sipped on his drink. 

Two sugar cubes plopped into the tea, honey and lemon being stirred in next. Just how you like it.

Just as you were getting enveloped in the whirlpool you made with your spoon, Mirai broke your train of thought.

“Today’s going to be a good day,” he murmured.

[shades-of-stony]

Post CA:CW Fix It Stony Fanfics

Making Amends by TheseStoriesAreWrittenOnMyHeart

Summary: Everything about them happened in seconds. Their first meeting was quick, with Tony landing next to the Captain, each man giving a curt nod and name in greeting. Their argument on the hellicarrier took mere seconds to escalate. Until Steve was goading Tony into putting on the suit and going a few rounds and Tony not so subtly reminding Steve that he wasn’t afraid to hit an old man. It was only seconds of staring at Tony on that New York City Street, his arc reactor dark, no rise and fall of his chest, for Steve to know that inside the tin can, was a good man. Then Ultron happened, and it took seconds for their world to change, seconds for Steve to throw his shield at Tony and for the billionaire to send a repulsor blast back. They went from laughing and relaxing to standing on an edge thousands of feet above solid ground. And now…now everything’s changed. And all it took was a combination of seconds; of decisions made, actions performed and words spoken that they couldn’t get back. Just a few ticks of the clock for their world to shatter.

It’ll take more than that to make things right.

Note: This one deals with amending the accords. It is about how the avengers pick up after the civil war and how they learn to be friends again. It is an incredibly detailed and well written piece! Also, NO TEAM CAP OR TEAM IRON MAN BASHING. I was only supposed to re-read a few chapters to recall the story and give a few-word review but I ended up re-reading the whole goddamn thing. It’s a masterpiece. 

maybe love is the reason why (we're seeing it eye to eye) by parkrstark

Summary: "I'm sorry. Repeat that again." Tony leaned forward in his seat from across the table. He even stuck a finger in his ear as if he was cleaning it out. "I don't think I heard you right."

Fury rolled his eyes-- or well, eye. "You and Rogers need to go undercover as a married couple in a community out on Long Island."

--

After Civil War, Tony and Steve are sent on an undercover mission as a couple to try and find Hydra informants. Somehow, they end up with Peter as their undercover son who decides to play matchmaker even if the two of them are doing their best to ignore their feelings after Siberia.

Note: My latest Fix It read! It just completed today. This fic is a phenomenal read, with its fake relationship, superfamily, undercover, and sexual tension elements! A definite 1000/10!

and this is the map of my heart by CydSA

Summary: The Avengers are splintered - spread out across the world.

There are many things to regret. The biggest one is what could have been.

Tony refuses to have any more regrets. Steve realizes that perhaps he made the wrong choice.

It starts from here....

Note: Here is some sweet, sweet, Civil War Fix It. It dwells deep into the Accords, how Tony fixes it, and the downfall of Ross. 

floating point exception by ooka

There is something, he knows, to see a man as mortal. To see his fault lines and jagged edges instead of the smooth surface they present. Most people don’t like the illusion, whether it be good or not. They don’t want people like him to be human.

But that’s what he is, under the suit and the smile and the sunglasses. Under the bravo and the quick grins. He’s just a man, trying to hide his broken pieces, the dents in his heart, the washed out color of his soul. He’s just a man, trying to solve problems and make the world better. That’s why he’s Ironman, just a man in a suit. Nothing extra.

The place where the arc reactor used to rest in his chest aches so fiercely for a moment that Tony can’t breathe.

He takes in a few breaths and does what Tony does best - pushes it down and goes to work.

(Tony, after the Civil War. Post CA:CW)

Note: A 150k+ fanfic that is centered on Tony, his issues, and his struggles. PREPARE TO CRY.

Not Enough Scotch for this Matchmaking Scheme by desolateice:

Summary:  After Civil War and a lot of healing the Avengers are fed up with the stubborn silence between Steve and Tony and try to take things in their own hands.

Note: A Fix It where the ‘kids’ play matchmaker to bring their fighting ‘parents’ back together! 

Never Eye To Eye by vorkosigan for mrsgingles

Summary: After the Civli War, the Avengers were back together.

How is everything going, Tony? Pepper had asked in her email. It's fine (Tony had written back). I'm fighting with Steve all the time. Everything is going to hell. I'm okay (you know I'm always okay).

(Or: How Tony and Steve learned to be a bit gentler with each other)

Note: A 26k+ fic where Steve and Tony learned how to be friends again, and more. It deals with the struggles and frustrations they had just to salvage their friendship.  

Fly One More Time (Alternately Titled--The Phoenix) by RavenLost2187

Summary: Steve couldn't see them before.

But then he woke up and there they were.

There's a small problem though.

One of his teammates doesn't have wings like he should.

And that's Tony Stark

Note: Some winged fics anyone? This has a bit of a Team as Family element and not to mention that glorious Civil War fix it theme! 

What it’s worth by masterlokisev159

Summary:  Tony's scent is off. Wanda realizes why.

Note: Here is a Hurt and Comfort fic for you with a dash ABO elements in it! 

Sunrise Over the End of the World by Sapphic_Futurist

Summary: When Dr. Strange arrives at an Accords Committee Meeting and warns of the coming of an alien megalomaniac set on destroying the world, the Rogues are pardoned and Tony finds himself exactly where he never wanted to be. Back at the Compound with Steve, who still can't take a hint and won't leave him alone.

--

In which Tony is broken and Steve finds redemption.

Note: A Bad case of Tony acting like nothing happened and doing his goddamn best to avoid Steve. It’ll work all out in the end. Well, it will get worst first before that though.. 

We stand together (or not at all) by Jana_C

Summary:  It’s so easy to hate this man, so painfully easy. He’s the embodiment of rich, white male privilege. He’s irritatingly arrogant, and he doesn’t always think before acting, and even when he does, he manages to twist his logic around and shape it into something that will always benefit him, and yet, here he is, building the guy who killed his parents an arm, without having been asked; working his way through diplomacy and politics, even though he hates it with every fiber of his being, just so he can correct the mistakes all of them made. She watches him go and sighs, small and tired, before texting a single line to Steve. Get ready to come home.

Note: Anyone up for some Tony Whump and Appreciation fanfic? 

You Don’t Only Get One Shot by janonny

Summary: In which Tony voluntarily carries a tracker around, and learns how to talk to Steve all over again in-between and during kidnapping attempts.

“Leave you alone for two months, and you have an operation all set up to track wayward Hydra cells and rescue innocent billionaires,” Tony said, his tone skating the line of annoyance and admiration.

Note: a dose of Stalkerish!Steve (but not in an entirely creepy way because he just wants to keep Tony safe dammit). 

You've Got A Sister Now by ZaraMelMercury

Summary: It's been a year since the events of the Avengers' Civil War. Tony Stark is trying to pick up the pieces of his life, while juggling his work, his remaining friendships, getting therapy sessions for Rhodey and dealing with government politics, as well as the Accords.

It is a bit rough, but he's got Pepper (always a steady rock by his side), Rhodey, Happy and the Kid- Peter Parker. Tony would never admit to it up front and center, but you could always catch a proud look on the man's face whenever the young Spiderling was mentioned!

Life seemed to be looking up...

Except for one, minor detail:

Steve Rogers.

The hope for one reconciliation, surprisingly, led to another!

A new bond that would form that Tony would ultimately always be thankful for.

"Oh, I wanna take it back!... " "No, no, no, you can't retract it!"

Who would've thought it?

Tony Stark has a sister looking out for him, after all.

Note: Here are some Tony and Nat friendship for you! This one isn’t exactly a solid fix it but one with a more of hopeful ending. 

The Bro Code by Sullen

Summary: In a world where the Winter Soldier is found years earlier and is named Tony’s godfather, Zemo plays a different R-rated video and Siberia goes a little differently.Or –Steve breaks the bro code.

Note: This is just too cute and wholesome not to include. 

WIP

Used to be Mine by Fangirlingmanaged

Tony can't even recognize himself nowadays.

Note: This one certainly deserves a place at the heavy angst category because that’s what it is. HEAVY ANGST AND HEARTBREAK.

[blu-joons]

He Breaks Up With You ~ Kim Taehyung

Walking off the stage that night was supposed to be the best feeling in the world, the adrenaline was supposed to keep you going for the rest of the night, that was until you found Taehyung stood backstage waiting for you, dressed plainly with a mask covering most of his face.

You were surprised to see him as you took off your mic pack, he’d told you he wouldn’t be able to make it to your concert because of a busy schedule, yet here he was in front of you.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, encouraging him to follow behind you as you began to get yourself sorted, grabbing one of the hoodies in your dressing room. “Did work finish early?”

“I got told to leave because I couldn’t focus, I guess I had a lot on my mind,” he frowned.

The moment the producer approached him and asked him what was going on, Taehyung knew there was only one place he could go. There was only one reason for his low mood and his difficulty to think of anything else but his shadowing thoughts.

You watched on for a few moments as he sat down on one of the chairs in front of the row of mirrors rather than choosing to sit on the double sofa beside you.

You laidback and tried to encourage yourself not to think too much into thigs, perhaps he just wanted to give you some space whilst you sorted yourself out coming off the stage.

Seeing your innocent smile broke Taehyung’s heart though. He could see you fighting with your negative thoughts as you tried to reassure yourself that all of this was nothing to worry about, when all along he knew it was exactly that for you.

“I needed to be here because I needed to speak to you about something Y/N.”

Your head slowly nodded, grabbing a bottle of water from the table beside you, using it as a bit of a distraction. You didn’t say a word as you waited for Taehyung to continue, spinning the cap of the bottle until he opened his mouth to speak.

“I’ve been thinking a lot recently,” he eventually began to speak up, “there’s a few things that I’ve felt haven’t been quite right, a lot that’s been disturbing my career. But that’s my priority right now and I can’t let that be neglected.”

“So, are you here to tell me I’m one of those disturbances?” You outrightly asked, taking him by surprise.

The silence of a response from him quickly told you everything as your head slowly nodded. His eyes looked away from yours as you glanced across at him, feeling a wave of anger hit you as he became so nervous around you.

“Why would you come and do this now Taehyung?”

“Because I fell apart at work tonight, it felt like I’d hit a brick wall.”

For so long he’d tried not to let anything intervene with work, but as the days went by, he found himself losing who he was more and more. He wasn’t the Taehyung of months ago, and every single in the company had recognised that too.

“I’m so sorry,” he admitted.

“What are you trying to say Tae? Is this your way of breaking up with me?” You continued to question, pressuring him desperately into being open and honest with you.

His hand brushed through his hair, pushing his face mask down so you could finally see his lips. “I don’t really feel like I’m left with much of a choice.”

He loved you more than anything else in the world, every person who knew him knew that too, but the pressures of being in love with an idol were beginning to take its toll on him. He’d hoped more than anything the two of you could figure something out, but for him, it just didn’t seem possible.

You sighed gently, placing the water bottle back down on the table, “is this you making the decision for the both of us then, do I get to have a say on this?”

“I’ve made my decision Y/N, what could you possibly say to change that?” He challenged.

“I’ve never let our relationship affect my career, so what are you doing to make it affect yours so much?” You queried, bringing your legs up onto the sofa to rest against.

His shoulders shrugged clueless as to why he’d let your relationship drive such a wedge into his career. “Maybe we’re just different people, you’ve always been able to handle anything thrown your way, but I feel like I’m in too deep now.”

“That’s what our relationship has meant to you?” You chuckled, “you’re trying to tell me that our relationship has just felt like a burden for you? Like a weight pulling you down?”

“It’s not just our relationship, but I guess it’s one of them, yes,” he confessed.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, all this time you’d thought the two of you were happy in your relationship. How bad of a partner had you been to fail to realise that he was miserable and struggling in your relationship.

“I wish there were a nicer way of doing this, but I’ve always said that I’d put my career first, and I can’t change that now. I think I just need to refocus myself again.”

“All along I’ve just been second best to you, haven’t it?”

As bad as it sounded, Taehyung knew you were probably right. Whilst he loved being in a relationship, with any decision that came his way, the band was always the first thing he thought of. It was the one thing he protected more than anything else.

You struggled to hold back your tears as the realisation dawned on you as to what was going on. You had little fight left in you when you knew you couldn’t compare to his career, there was no way you were going to win this time around.

“I think you should just go rather than dragging this out,” you suggested.

His heart shattered as your hand wiped underneath your eye, knowing he was the cause. “Y/N I don’t want you to feel like I didn’t want to be with you or that I didn’t love you. I know this isn’t what you want either, but I need to do this for me, I just hope you’ll understand.”

A heavy breath came from you, “I’ll always understand the importance of your career, but I’ll never understand why you felt the need to carry this on for so long.”

He wished more than anything that he could justify these things to you, but he just couldn’t. None of it made sense, and that was all down to him.

“I’ve never wanted to break up with you, but I’d never force you into staying. I’ll just say thank you for doing this during one of the best concerts of my life.”

“I could have found a better time, I know. It was selfish of me to come now because I couldn’t deal with the guilt anymore,” he admitted, standing up from the chair. “From what I saw of the concert though, you performed so well.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better now.”

“What else can I do?”

Your eyes looked up at his figure, and then across to the door. “You can just leave Taehyung, this is a moment you’ve wanted for a long time, so now is your chance to do what you’ve wanted to do for so long.”

His head slowly nodded, glancing across at you one last time before away at the door. “Please know that I’m sorry Y/N,” he whispered.

“Taehyung…just go.”

---

Masterlist

[morganaspendragonss]

white noise, what an awful sound

“Their unit is not on the grid. It’s like they have disappeared.”

If Grace says anything else after that, Carlos doesn’t catch it. A ringing erupts in his ears and he staggers, all the breath sucked out of him. TK’s missing. Not running late, not on his way; missing.

ao3 | 3.3k | 2.08 speculation

It’s more than an hour after TK’s shift was supposed to be up, and he still hasn’t come home.

Carlos doesn’t want to worry; Owen told him that medical caught a call right at the end of shift, so he knows that TK will be pulling overtime. It’s actually worked in their favour a little, because they’ve been able to set everything up for TK’s party in the time they’ve been waiting. But, from what Owen said, it was only supposed to be a simple call, and whilst Carlos knows as well as anyone that the simplest calls can often turn out to be the most complicated, they really should have been done by now.

He sends off a couple of texts, telling himself that TK is just busy and will reply when he can, even though his instincts are screaming at him that something is wrong. By the time they hit the two hour mark, everyone seems to be getting concerned - which, in a house full of first responders, is not something to be taken lightly.

Carlos crosses over to Owen. “Have you heard from TK?” he asks, trying desperately to keep his voice as low and steady as possible.

Owen shakes his head, flashing Carlos a smile which doesn’t reach his eyes. “They’re just running a little over,” he says, and Carlos isn’t sure who he’s trying to convince. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

“But what if it’s not?”

“We can’t think like that, Carlos,” Owen says, not unkindly. “He’s probably just in the shower.”

“He would have texted,” Carlos persists. “You know he would have, Owen. Something’s wrong.”

Owen grimaces, glancing around the room of people, who have started to take notice of their conversation. He sighs. “Try calling him,” he tells Carlos. Then, turning to the room, “Can anyone try and get a hold of Nancy or Tommy?”

“Already did, Cap,” Marjan says. “Nancy’s not picking up.”

“Tommy neither,” Judd adds, and Carlos’s heart plummets as the sound of TK’s voicemail confirms that he, too, is still unaccounted for.

“This isn’t right,” he says, allowing a little desperation to bleed into his tone. He can feel it in his bones; TK wouldn’t leave them hanging like this, especially not on a day like today. Carlos has no idea what could have happened to make all three paramedics drop off the grid, but he knows it’s not just lack of cell service or traffic.

Owen closes his eyes and hangs his head, apparently coming to the same conclusions. “Alright then.” He pulls out his phone, and Carlos frowns.

“Who are you calling?”

Owen sends him a wry look, showing him the three oh-so-familiar numbers he’s dialled. “Desperate times, right?”

Carlos manages a nod, but there’s a lump in his throat at the thought of these being such desperate times that they need 9-1-1. Logically, he knows it’s the right step, but he guesses he still has that little flame of hope left in him - hope he doesn’t want crushed by the confirmation they’re about to receive. Owen places the phone on speaker, and Carlos watches it nervously, waiting for a dispatcher to pick up.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” It’s Grace, and Carlos could cry with relief. If anyone can help them find TK, it’s Grace Ryder.

“Grace,” Owen starts, “it’s Owen.”

“Captain Strand? Is everything alright?”

“We were hoping you could tell us that.” Owen takes a steadying breath, looking once more around their friends, before continuing. “EMS 126 were sent out on a call at the end of our shift, two hours ago. There’s been no word from them since, and we’re worried something’s happened to them. Could you tell us anything about where they were sent and why?”

There’s a brief pause on the other end before Grace speaks again, hesitant and slow. “Captain Strand, that’s not information I’m sure I should be giving out to civilians.”

“I’m not a civilian,” Owen argues. “I may not be on shift, but I’m always Captain of that firehouse. Please, Grace. They’re our family.”

Grace sucks in a sharp breath, then the sound of typing comes through the speaker. Carlos allows himself a single moment of relief before the anxiety takes over again as Grace speaks.

“EMS 126 were dispatched to a pregnant woman in distress,” she reports. “They… Oh.”

Carlos exchanges an alarmed look with Owen, his panic spiking at Grace’s words. 

“Oh?” Owen asks, not even trying to hide the worry in his voice anymore.

“Captain Strand, their unit is not on the grid. It’s like they have disappeared.”

If Grace says anything else after that, Carlos doesn’t catch it. A ringing erupts in his ears and he staggers, all the breath sucked out of him. TK’s missing. Not running late, not on his way; missing. Something happened to him and his team between leaving the firehouse and now, and they’ve all just been sitting here, doing nothing, for two hours. He should have spoken up earlier, when he first got his bad feeling - maybe that wouldn’t have prevented this, but they could be on their way to finding him right now.

And Carlos knows better than anyone here how crucial every second is in a missing persons case.

When he comes back to himself, a hand - Paul’s - is resting on his shoulder, and Owen and Gwyn are locked in an argument, the call with Grace clearly over.

“What’s going on?” he asks, turning to Paul.

Paul shoots him a sympathetic grimace, squeezing his shoulder. “Cap got the address of their last call,” he answers. “He’s insisting on going, but he won’t let anyone else go with him. Gwyn disagrees.”

Carlos stares at Owen, finding himself firmly in agreement with Gwyn, though likely for different reasons. In his mind, it’s a non-issue; he’s going to search for TK, and there’s no-one who can stop him - certainly not Owen Strand.

He strides over to them, not caring about interrupting their quarrel. TK’s life is on the line, after all. “I’m going with you,” he says firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“Son -”

“You can’t stop me, Owen.” He levels him with a hard stare. “Besides, I’m a cop, and you need back up. I’m going.”

Owen watches him for a long moment, then sighs, nodding reluctantly. “Alright,” he says, clapping Carlos once on the shoulder. “Let’s go find them.”

*

Carlos jumps out of Owen’s truck before it’s even stopped moving, flicking on his flashlight as he strides through the garage, praying that he’ll round the corner and find them all in one piece. Behind him, Owen is yelling out for them, the only reply he gets the sound of his own voice echoed back. It sends Carlos’s heart plummeting into his shoes, even as it only confirms what he’s known for a while - they’re not finding TK here.

All they do find is a brown van, all its doors open, and a pile of bloodied rags lying next to it. Carlos refuses to think about whose blood it could be; if he does, he thinks he’ll lose it, and that’s the last thing anyone needs right now, himself included.

“Where would they go?” he asks, turning to Owen. They hadn’t seen the ambulance on the way in, so they must have left in it at some point - or someone had.

Owen shakes his head, a trembling hand running through his hair. “I don’t - I don’t know,” he says, sounding more lost than Carlos has ever heard him. It’s a jarring sight; Owen is usually so put together, so unruffled in the face of emergency, and his appearance now cuts a striking contrast. Carlos understands - much as TK has complained about his parents in the past months, it’s clear they love him, even if they might not be the best at showing it. 

Carlos is sure he looks similarly distressed; his curls are beginning to escape from his fingers running through them, and his heart is pounding a mile a minute, but he tries to school his expression into something stronger, as much for his own sake as for Owen’s.

“I don’t know what to do, Carlos,” Owen admits, body sagging in defeat. 

Carlos hesitates, then pulls out his phone, tapping through to his contacts. “I might,” he says, and Owen looks up at him in surprise. “My dad is a Texas Ranger. He’ll be able to help, I’m sure of it.”

Owen immediately nods, seeming to steel himself up a little. “Do it,” he says. “I’ll call and update the others; I’m sure they’ll want to know.”

He walks away, giving both of them some semblance of privacy to make their respective calls. Carlos pauses for a brief second, glancing down once more at the pile of bloody rags, his mind flashing back to four years ago, the last time someone he loved went missing. He knows - he knows the situations are nothing alike, that Iris’s and TK’s disappearances are worlds apart. But the grief crawling up his throat and clutching at his heart can’t help but make comparisons, warning him that he’s going to lose someone else.

Carlos swallows roughly and shakes his head, dialling his dad’s number before he can start spiralling. Now is not the time to fall apart; he has to be strong.

His dad picks up on the second ring. “Carlos? ¿Qué pasa?”

“Dad,” Carlos answers, surprising himself with how steady his voice is. “I need your help.”

*

They’re on their third dead end of the day, and Carlos can feel his grip on control slipping. 

His dad had tried to get him to leave when he’d arrived at the garage. “You’re off duty; you shouldn’t be here, mijo,” he’d said, attempting to steer Carlos towards Owen’s truck. “Let us handle this now.”

“No,” Carlos had insisted, shaking his dad’s hands off him. “I have to be here. One of the missing paramedics - it’s TK, Dad.”

It had taken a few moments for the penny to drop, his father’s frown growing once it did. “Your friend from the market? I thought he was a firefighter.”

“He switched fields.” Carlos had drawn himself up, staring his dad down. “I’m not going anywhere until I find him.”

Something had flickered across his dad’s face then, something Carlos hadn’t understood. Whatever it was, his expression had quickly cleared, and he’d lain a comforting hand on Carlos’s shoulder.

“Alright, mijo,” he’d said. “You can stay.”

Now, Carlos can feel his dad’s eyes on him as he stares blankly at the building they’d been so sure they’d find TK, Nancy, and Tommy in. It had been empty, because of course it had, and Carlos is starting to wonder if they’re ever going to find them.

They’re supposed to be celebrating right now. TK hadn’t wanted anything special, but Carlos knows he’d secretly been looking forward to tonight, his one year anniversary of sobriety a source of pride for them both. They should be celebrating it; instead, TK could be injured or worse, and Carlos feels like he’s going out of his mind.

(They’d found the ambulance an hour ago, abandoned on the side of the road. There had been blood staining the inside of that, too, and Carlos had had to swallow back bile at the sight.)

His dad comes to stand at his elbow, a hand on Carlos’s back. “So,” he starts, gently, “this TK boy?”

Carlos closes his eyes, desperately wishing for his dad to drop it. He knows what’s coming next, and he knows there’s no avoiding it this time. He doesn’t have the strength to lie.

“Dad -”

“Who is he, Carlos?” His dad’s voice is careful and measured, lacking any hint of judgement, but Carlos still tenses, not fully prepared for the fallout of this conversation.

He avoids his dad’s eyes as he answers, keeping his gaze fixed on the space in front of him. “He’s my boyfriend,” he says. “We’ve been dating for just over six months, and I - I really love him, Dad.”

The last admission is said quietly, but Carlos feels like he’s shouted it, such is the silence that follows his words. His hands start to shake at his sides and a sick feeling begins churning in his gut, but, still, he doesn’t look over.

“Six months…” his dad eventually says, voice strained. “Which means you were together when we met you at the market. Why did you lie?”

A flash of white-hot anger surges through him, tears burning the back of his eyes as he rounds on his dad. “I could hardly tell you the truth!” he cries. “You’ve made it clear you’d rather not hear about my sexuality. I was trying to protect us!”

A sob crawls up his throat, but Carlos pushes it back, determined not to break down in front of his dad’s entire team. His dad’s face is stricken, a surprising emotion glinting in his eyes.

“Oh, Carlos -” he starts, but he’s cut off by one of the Rangers shouting for them. He throws Carlos a look that lets him know they’re not done with this conversation yet, before they both run over to the Ranger, Carlos arriving slightly ahead of his dad.

“We’ve found them,” the Ranger says without preamble.

Carlos stares, the words sending a spark of hope through his chest, but he refuses to give in to it just yet. “How sure are you?” he demands. He knows it’s not his place to ask these questions - he’s barely allowed here as it is - but he doesn’t think he could take one more false lead, one more dead end. The Ranger, to his credit, only momentarily shows his surprise, quickly schooling his expression back into one of firm neutrality. He nods, once.

“Positive.”

And, for the first time since they’d heard the news, Carlos dares to hope.

*

He’ll never get used to this. 

The heart monitor beeping by his side, the smell of bleach, the hardness of the chairs. It’s not something he should really have to get used to, but, with a family full of first responders, hospitals are a fact of Carlos’s life. Especially with a boyfriend like TK, who seems to insist on gravitating towards danger even when it’s no longer his job.

“How do we keep ending up like this, huh?” he whispers, gently running a hand through TK’s hair. 

TK’s asleep, having first woken up around an hour ago. Hopefully, he’ll be discharged later, if all his tests come back okay - which, thankfully they should. 

Carlos’s eyes drift to the bandage around TK’s head, the wrappings around his ribs, the scratchy sheets which Carlos knows covers extensive bruising. They’ve been lucky, he knows this, but he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to forget the sight that greeted him when they burst into that restaurant. Tommy and Nancy were standing by the table, next to an unmoving body, both shaken but unhurt. TK had clearly borne the brunt of the attack, and Carlos hadn’t needed to stop to wonder why; his boyfriend’s too much of a damn hero for his own good sometimes.

Apparently, TK had tried to pull the fire alarm, but had been caught before he could, receiving a blow to the head for his efforts. They’d also broken his nose and several ribs, and his body is littered in marks from the kidnapper’s boots. Carlos’s heart had nearly stopped when he’d first seen TK, cable-tied to a pole and barely conscious, but now he can only thank god that it isn’t worse. 

“Carlos.”

Carlos stiffens as he hears his dad’s voice behind him, dreading the conversation they’re about to have. He tightens his grip on TK’s hand, not yet brave enough to look away from him.

“Hi, Dad,” he says, voice hollow. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”

“Yo también, hijo.” His dad heaves a sigh, footsteps coming closer until he’s at Carlos’s side, easing himself into a second chair. “You know we love you, don’t you?”

Carlos winces. “I know. I’m sorry I yelled at you like that earlier, I was just -”

“No, mijo,” his dad interrupts. Carlos looks up at him sharply, confused by the weariness in his dad’s tone, and he’s taken aback by the sorrow in his eyes. He’s not sure he’s ever seen him cry before, and Carlos doesn’t know what to make of it. “It is me who should be apologising.”

“Dad -”

His dad holds a hand up, cutting Carlos off. “Your mother and I… We have only ever wanted what was best for you,” he says. “When you came out to us - Carlos, I was so proud. I was shocked, yes, but I could see how hard that must have been for you, and I thought you were so brave. We thought that if we carried on as normal, then you wouldn’t feel like anything had changed. Because, to us, it hadn’t. You were still the beautiful son we had always known and loved, and being gay wasn’t going to change that.

“We thought that you would be more comfortable with it like this, but I see now that we made a mistake. I’m so sorry that we made you feel like you couldn’t talk to us about these things. I’d like to change that, if you’re willing.”

Carlos blinks, tears spilling down his cheeks. “You’re really okay with it?” he croaks. “You and mami?”

“Of course we are.” His dad chuckles, rubbing Carlos’s shoulder. “You know what your mother’s like; she’ll be fawning over him as soon as she finds out.”

Carlos manages a laugh, though there’s still a little lingering dread in his stomach at the thought of having to tell his mom. He’ll have to do it, and soon, but he can’t get rid of a decade of uncertainty and fear so easily. At least, this time, he’ll have his dad and his boyfriend by his side.

A groan from the bed pulls his attention, and he looks over to see TK’s eyes blinking open. They immediately seek out Carlos, a frown creasing his brows.

“You’ve been crying,” TK murmurs, reaching a hand up to Carlos’s face, only to freeze before it gets there. TK’s eyes widen, frantically darting between Carlos and his dad. “Uh, Mr Reyes, sir. Carlos said that you helped to find us; thank you.”

“Hey.” Carlos catches TK’s hand, still hovering in mid-air, and smiles at him. “It’s okay, Ty. He knows.”

TK’s lips part in shock. “You told him?” he whispers.

“Kind of had to,” Carlos replies, laughing a little. “I could hardly say I was having a meltdown over a friend, now, could I?”

TK’s face clouds with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Carlos,” he says. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“Did you ask to get kidnapped?” Carlos asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No, but -”

“Then you have nothing to apologise for.” He presses a gentle kiss to the inside of TK’s wrist, never breaking their gaze. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

TK smiles, visibly relaxing. He squeezes Carlos’s hand, then brings their joined hands to his lips, lingering for a long moment. Carlos loses himself in it, his heart aching at the thought that he could have lost all of this today. But TK is here, and he’s going to be okay, and that’s all that matters right now.

A throat clears behind them, and Carlos jumps, turning to look guiltily at his dad.

“I see I’m no longer wanted here,” he comments wryly. Carlos flushes, but his dad just laughs and pats his shoulder as he stands. “I’ll see you soon, Carlos.”

“Thank you again, Mr Reyes,” TK calls. 

Carlos’s dad grins at him. “You take care of my boy, TK.”

TK’s gaze flicks over to Carlos, his eyes full of so much love that it shocks him. “With my life, sir.”

It’s a promise that goes both ways and, as he leans over to kiss his boyfriend, Carlos knows that he’d do anything to keep it.

[moonlighttfoxx]

The girl with the golden eyes: Chapter Four

Summary: Y/N’s come to some realizations

 Warnings: jealous Steve, smut, dry humping, Bucky, Sam 

A/N: I’d appreciate some comments and tips! :) 

Steve couldn’t wait to spend some time at the gym. Boy, did he need that. Lately he needed it more than ever. He was extremely angry recently. And extremely horny. Not that he would ever admit it. Not even to himself. It certainly didn’t help that his best friend was a huge pain in the butt too. But some gym time would surely do him good. He could at least blow off some steam.

‘Hey, Cap, going to hit the gym?’ Sam’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Steve turned his head around to his left, where his friend was standing now.

‘Yeah, I am. And what are you up to?’

‘Same.’ Sam said shortly. Steve nodded and they fell into somewhat comfortable silence, walking side by side in the direction of the gym.

‘Hey guys! Wait up!’ Bucky’s voice echoed in the empty hallway. Steve rolled his eyes. As much as he adored his best friend, he needed just a little break from him. ‘I’m going to the gym as well’ he said once he caught up with them.

‘Sooo, game night tonight, huh?’ Sam started, obviously attempting to ease the tension that had suddenly filled in the air around them. ‘I wonder what the game will be this time’

‘Probably some Truth or Dare or something like that. I heard Nat talking.’ Bucky answered.

‘Truth or Dare?’ Steve asked.

‘Yeah, you pick one and they either ask you a question, usually an embarrassing one, that you need to answer truthfully or they give you some sort of task to do, again an embarrassing one or maybe a naughty one and you have to do it, you can’t refuse once you’ve agreed to play.’ Sam explained, knowing his friend being over a hundred years old probably had never played that game before. Well, of course it was Nat’s idea. She usually picked those type of games.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t mind a few naughty tasks’ said Bucky. Of course he wouldn’t. Especially if they involved Y/N.

‘We know’ Sam answered, opening the gym door. The three men entered.

‘Oh God’ Sam whispered. ‘Isn’t that a sight for sore eyes…’

Steve wasn’t sure what he was talking about, so he looked up and let his eyes travel around. It didn’t take long before he found the source of Sam’s admiration. Y/N. Of course. She had laid a purple yoga mat on the floor in the corner. She had changed the baggy shirt she was wearing earlier to black sports bra and tight yoga pants of the same color that hugged her hips and defined her ass perfectly. She was currently warming up, Steve assumed or maybe doing some yoga, based on the position she was in. And she was a sight for sore eyes indeed. She was on her hands and feet, stretching with her ass high up in their direction. As if she was trying to torture whoever walked in that gym, begging for attention. She must’ve been doing it on purpose. It was like it was her mission to make him fantasize and think of her. As if it was her mission to make him hard all the time whenever she was in the same room as him. And as if sexual frustration wasn’t enough, she had the same effect over other men as well, which was driving Steve crazy even more. For no apparent reason. Uh.

Now, seeing her in that position, what man in his right mind, wouldn’t just want to go behind her, slide down her pants, revealing that perfect ass and lose himself in the warmth of her depths, stretching her out. Now, wouldn’t that just be nice.

‘Mmm… it’s a sight, alright’ Steve heard Bucky whisper next to him. There it was again – the anger. But Steve was tired of feeling that so he decided to keep it under control this time and instead of thinking too much about it and her for that matter, to actually focus on his workout. So he ignored Bucky’s comment and went over the closest punching bag, not far from where Y/N was, starting his training, his punches slow at first.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Bucky moving in her direction, so that made him circle his punching bag a little, positioning himself, so he could subtly watch what was going to happen. For no apparent reason again.

   __________________________________________________________

You were doing your yoga routine in the gym. Lord knows you needed it. You needed to get full control of your body and mind again. It was definitely an eventful morning, especially after your encounter with Steve. You discovered something about yourself you didn’t know existed: your attraction to Steve. You usually tried to be as far away from him as possible, because you knew he wasn’t very fond of you. And he was right not to be, he didn’t trust you. He had to protect his team, therefore trusting people came hard for him. And after everything you’ve been through, you fully understооd him. If you were him, you’d be the same way. That’s why you decided to give him space until he warms up to you and sees you were no threat whatsoever. You kept your distance, but this morning you were put face to face with him. Both literally and figuratively.

It was just then you noticed how handsome he was. He had the perfect and yet manly features. Everything in him screamed perfection – from his dirty blonde hair to the thin line of his lips. Absolute perfection. He was usually so composed all the time – his expression stern, hiding all the thoughts running in his head behind a pair of stormy eyes, his hair tidily put back, his beard, which was a new occurrence, always perfectly trimmed. But you could tell that this morning his guard was down. Probably because he was still sleepy, his hair was a mess and yet it was still perfect in every way and for the first time since you had joined the team, you could see that the storm in his eyes was quiet. No, there was something else instead, something deep, intense and powerful, something that made those perfect eyes even more blue than they were. You had no idea what it was, but you knew you wouldn’t mind a taste of it. As unwilling you were to admit it, this morning for the very first time you noticed Steve Rogers and that awakened a new craving for you that would haunt you for a very long time if not for the rest of your life, you were sure of it.

Deep in thoughts, you continued to stretch, hoping that the yoga exercises would help you get a grip of yourself and would chase away the memory of this morning. So far, it wasn’t working. But you kept stretching anyway. Child pose. Bridge. Four limbed staff. Downward dog.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, you felt someone behind you. You were in the downward dog position, your ass as high up as you could possibly put it and there was someone behind you! You could feel them putting their hands on your thighs and sliding them up and down slowly. You looked down, still holding the position and you saw a pair of tracksuit covered legs.

‘Hey, doll… I love that position’ Bucky said from behind. You could hear the smirk in his voice.

‘Jesus, Buck’ you breathed. ‘Is there any reason why you’re standing there of all places? Is there any way I could help you?’

‘Why, yes, there is. Wiggle for me, doll. Wiggle that beautiful ass of yours’ he said, his hands still on your thighs, but he moved his whole body closer. So close his crotch was against your ass. So close you could feel him pressed against you. In normal circumstances this would be considered inappropriate of him. But that’s just how your friendship worked. You teased each other like that. Of course, he was much more open about it. And truth be told, it felt nice. It’s been awhile since you felt anything, but your fingers down there. So feeling him right then, was nice.

‘Oh yeah? Aren’t you excited to see me?’ you laughed, referring to his semi – hard cock, pressed against your ass, wiggling just a slight bit to tease him. He groaned. Yep. The nature of your friendship was definitely out of the box.

‘You’re such a good friend’ he praised. His hands moved up slowly, from your thighs to your ass, caressing it teasingly and then further up to your waist. He held on it firmly. ‘Now… let me help you with your workout. You can improve it a little bit’

You laughed again.

‘Since when do you know yoga?’ you asked.

‘Yoga is all about stretching. I know everything about stretching. I am pretty good at it too. Now, open your legs further.’

‘I’m still not sure about your yoga skills’ you teased not moving one bit.

You heard him growl a little. He moved his right leg in between yours, his knee pushing your legs further apart. Then you felt his grip around your waist tighten and he forcefully slammed your body against his, which earned him a surprised gasp from you. It was weird how his actions in combination with your burning limbs (from being in the same position for way too long) made you feel even more aroused. Jesus.

‘Still not sure?’ he asked, smirking.

‘No, no doubts anymore’ you laughed. ‘Just pure curiosity. What else can you stretch so good, Buck?’

Bucky was about to answer, when a loud ‘bang’ interrupted both his answer and your little game. He moved back, which allowed you to stand up again. Both of you looked around, looking for the source of the awful noise. What you saw in front of you made your eyes widen. Steve breathing heavily, all sweaty and a face burning red, looking at the punching bag in front of him on the floor, torn from its ceiling holder. What the fuck? Did he do that himself?

[catradoramma]

how about a fic of Adora noticing being the jealous one after noticing other women give Catra attention.

i have been getting prompts like this since Mine, and honestly, hell yea. i deadass started working on this in 2019 and well. its finally finished. this is who i am folks. thanks so much to @kittens-and-foxes, @magicchalkdust, and lunatica (ao3) for the prompts! prompts are still open! i’m just a slave to writers block. evidently

Oh, How the Turntables

|  Rated: T  |  Words: 2,604  |  Chapter: 1/1  |

Adora was not a jealous person. She was confident with where she was in her life and always had been. Trying her best and being proud of that was something that was basically sewn into her DNA.

Adora was not jealous. Never had been, and never would be.

She wasn’t jealous.

She was just…a little upset.

Or how Adora handles being jealous. A significantly less fun sequel to Mine. 

| ao3 | buy me a kofi |

Adora was not a jealous person. She was confident with where she was in her life and always had been. Trying her best and being proud of that was something that was basically sewn into her DNA.

Adora was not jealous. Never had been, and never would be.

She wasn’t jealous.

She was just…a little upset.

It wasn’t really that big of a deal. Honestly it wasn’t a big deal at all. In fact it wasn’t even a deal at all. Catra was just making friends. Which Adora, for the record, was extremely happy about.

Catra was making friends with some of the people in the Royal Guard at Bright Moon and it was awesome! People were accepting her! And, like, treating her with respect like she obviously deserves as a literal war hero! So naturally, Adora was happy to hear this. Adora was enthused!

Obviously, okay?

It’s just that Catra had recently become closer with a few of her friends in the Royal Guard which meant they were out all day training and running drills, and then out all night getting drinks and singing bar shanties or whatever soldiers did together. Adora was so glad that Catra was fitting in and being accepted. That goes without saying.

But.

Adora also really, really, really missed her girlfriend.

Like.

Adora missed her a lot.

As simple as that.

Although, it didn’t help that one of Catra’s new friends was the totally smart, pretty and badass Captain Kassandra. And it also didn’t help that Captain Kassandra was definitely Catra’s best friend in the guard which meant Catra and Captain Kassandra were spending the majority of their days together.

Alone.

And it’s not like Adora thought anything would happen! Catra would never cheat, okay? She wouldn’t! She just might...you know. Realize that Captain Kassandra was so, so much better, and smarter, and stronger, and prettier, and cooler than Adora.

And Catra might want to break up.

Which Adora definitely didn’t want.

— . —

“Hey, Catra?” Adora called as she was pulling her hair up into a ponytail.

“Yeah?” Catra called from the closet where she was trying to decide between two identical burgundy sports bras.

“I was, uh,” Adora paused as she grabbed her hair tie with her teeth off her wrist. “I was thinking that it might be fun if we went out tonight? Go into town and grab dinner or something? Have a little date?” She asked with a tentative smile as she finished tying off her hair.

Catra turned to face her properly, lowering both sports bras. “Tonight?” She asked, not sounding excited like Adora had thought she’d be.

The lack of enthusiasm made Adora a little nervous. She licked her lips and continued. “Yeah. We’ve both been really busy lately, and I finally have a night off from--you know--She-Ra stuff. So I was, you know, just wondering if we could, I don’t know. Go on a date,” Adora bumbled, her nerves getting to her the longer she went without an answer.

“Shit, tonight?” Catra asked, her shoulders slumping alongside Adora’s heart. “I can’t. I have a game tonight.”

“Wait, you have a what tonight?” Adora asked, immediately confused.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I meant to tell you. Me and the Guard started up a Softball team. Bright Moon Royal Guard against Entrapta’s Robot Army,” Catra explained, a little smile curling up her lips which Adora knew meant that Catra had really been enjoying playing Softball.

Adora was, admittedly, a little hurt by the fact that Catra hadn’t even thought to tell her about this. Adora was always super supportive of everything Catra did and would have loved the opportunity to cheer her on in a very literal and vocal way.

But, Adora supposed, she had been really busy with She-Ra stuff lately so it made sense that Catra forgot to mention things. Especially when they really only saw each other at dinner and when they got in and out of bed everyday.  

Adora pushed down her hurt feelings and pressed on. “Alright, well. When’s the game? I’ll come and maybe we could grab a bite or something after,” she suggested.

Catra winced. “After games, C.K. usually buys everyone a burger,” Catra explained. C.K. So we’re calling Captain Kassandra C.K. now. Adora suddenly craved physical violence.

Catra continued, not noticing Adora’s mounting frustration. “It’s like--I don’t know--a team bonding thing,” Catra explained with a shrug. “You could come to the game though! I’ll hit a homer for you,” she added, sending Adora a deliciously wicked grin that Adora couldn’t even enjoy due to the slowly mounting rage within her.

Adora took a deep breath, suppressing the anger for the time being, and forced a smile. “That sounds awesome, babe. I’ll….be there for the game then.”

Catra grinned at that and darted over to press a kiss to Adora’s cheek. “I’ll look for you in the stands,” she said, practically glowing with happiness, and just like that, all of Adora’s rage and jealousy melted away. This was something Catra enjoyed. Having friends and maintaining them was important to Catra. So it was important to Adora.

Adora turned and stole a proper kiss from Catra. “Leave your alternate jersey for me and I’ll wear it,” she suggested with a soft smile.

Catra nodded eagerly before she disappeared back into the closet. She came back out wearing one of Adora’s white and blue sports bras, and, honestly, that made everything a little better.

— . —

Adora had no idea how Softball worked, but Gods, was she becoming a fan quickly. Everything from the tight white pants Catra wore, to the slashed up cap she wore to let her ears through was doing things for Adora. Adora was pretty sure she was actually learning less about Softball the longer she spent in the stands. Probably because she was happily staring at Catra’s ass instead of the game.

The whole experience probably would have been a net positive if it wasn’t for what happened at the very end of the game. Catra must’ve hit a particularly impressive ball (Adora wasn't exactly paying attention to the ball or where it was going as much as she was focusing on where the hitter was going and doing) because as she dashed around the diamond, everyone around her was cheering and freaking out. The Bright Mood Guard left the make-shift dugout and ran onto the pitch. They swarmed Catra as she passed home. They all wrapped her in a hug before Captain Kassandra tossed her up into the air and then sat Catra on her shoulder.

Jealousy burned inside of Adora. That was Adora’s move! Adora was absolutely the only one allowed to toss Catra into the air and catch her on her shoulder! Why the hell was someone else doing that?! Was this a common thing? Did Captain Kassandra toss Catra all the time?

Adora was about three seconds away from going full-on beast mode on the Captain. The only thing that stopped her was the way Catra pulled her cap off in celebration, waving it excitedly in Adora’s direction. The elation on Catra’s face—the pure joy that was clear from whatever game-winning hit she’d made—was entirely enough to cool Adora’s temper.

Catra looked radiant out there. And she deserved to be praised like that. She deserved to be celebrated and loved by her friends. Adora wanted that for Catra so badly, and if it wasn’t for the ugly jealous monster that was living rent free inside of her for whatever reason, Adora was sure she’d 100% be just as happy as Catra was in that moment.

So, with her mind made up, Adora grinned and waved back. She cupped her hands around her mouth and cheered loudly. She made a heart with her hands and held it up above her head for Catra to see. Catra must’ve seen it because she blushed a little darker and bit her lip in a way that made Adora’s blood burn in a very different way.

If only Adora wouldn’t have to go home alone after the game.

— . —

Adora decided to wait up for Catra. She wanted to show Catra exactly how proud of her game-winning home-run she was. Adora lit candles around their room while she waited, and even changed into some of the more frilly underwear she owned for nights exactly like this. She kept Catra’s jersey on, though, and made herself comfortable in bed to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Adora waited long after the sun went down behind the back hills, long after the candles burned down to nubs, and long after the lacey bra she wore became too uncomfortable to continue wearing. Adora didn’t want to admit defeat, but eventually the mood was lost, and she could barely keep her eyes open.

It was with a new level of bitterness, and a little heartbreak, that Adora cleaned up the candles, slipped into pyjamas, and put Catra’s jersey away. This time when Adora curled up into bed, she didn’t wait. She closed her eyes and fell asleep.

If the smell of candle smoke was still in the air when Catra got back, then so what.

— . —

Adora felt very off for the rest of that week. She hadn’t even heard Catra come in that night, and when she woke up, Catra was curled up into a ball on her own side of the bed. Something about not even waking up in Catra’s arms left a sour taste in her mouth.

Adora knew, logically, that Catra hadn’t made her any promises to come back early that night. She had said that she’d be out with the team, and Adora had agreed to that. It was just that...after a game like that, the first one Adora had gone to, shouldn’t Catra have wanted to come home and celebrate with Adora? Shouldn’t she have at least come back at a decent hour? Catra had only said that she’d be getting dinner with her team. Did getting burgers really take that long?

What else had Catra been doing out there?

That thought alone was enough to leave Adora in a horrible mood for the rest of the week.

She destroyed many straw filled dummies, and snapped at anyone who so much as thought about asking her what was wrong, including Catra.

Especially Catra.

Adora hadn’t been in this bad of a mood since the war--since the time she hadn’t slept for weeks at a time.

And the worst part? Adora knew she was being unreasonable. She knew she was being dramatic and was definitely blowing things out of proportion. It was just that—

The jealous little monster that lived in her mind rent free was slowly taking over.

— . —

Adora was lounging in the bath, trying to make herself feel better though aggressive self-care, when she heard Catra come in. It was already late into the evening. Adora would usually be in bed this time of night, and Adora was beginning to think (unreasonably) that Catra was coming back late on purpose.

“Adora?” Catra called as she noticed the bed was empty. She sounded a little afraid and suddenly Adora was just tired. And sad. And frustrated. She was so, so frustrated with herself and this stupid situation. She didn’t want to be upset at Catra anymore.

“In here!” Adore called back as she moved her hands a little anxiously through the bubbles still floating on the surface.

Catra appeared in the doorway and smiled tentatively. She looked concerned and tired.

“Hey,” Adora said softly.

“Hey,” Catra repeated, her voice just as soft.

“How was your night?” Adora asked. “I missed you at dinner.”

Catra’s shoulders dropped a little and she nodded. She stepped into the bathroom and sat down on the floor right next to the tub, her knees pulled up to her chest as she looked at Adora. Catra looked small like that. Small and afraid.

“Missed you too,” Catra said back, her voice just above a whisper.

Adora bit her lip a little anxiously and had to look away. She couldn’t look at Catra knowing she was the one who made her feel uncertain like this. But...wasn’t it because Adora herself felt uncertain that this whole thing had happened?

Adora pulled in a deep breath and forced herself to look back at Catra. “I’m sorry I’ve been...rough this week,” she said.

Catra leaned her head onto the side of the tub. “Are you gonna tell me what I did?” Catra asked, her voice soft and non-judgemental.

“Catra you didn’t...do anything,” Adora said. “And...well. That’s the problem. I feel like we never see each other anymore. I feel like we don’t talk.”

Catra straightened up, her shoulders coming up in a defensive stance. It was clear she was afraid of what else was coming from this conversation. Adora reached out and placed her hand on top of one of Catra’s knee.

“I just really miss you Catra. All the time, even when I wake up next to you,” Adora admitted.

“I’m sorry,” Catra said immediately, her ears pressing back flat onto her head. “I…”

“Hey, no, I should have said something—” Adora said but Catra cut her off, her eyes wide in realization.

“Oh my gods,” Catra breathed. “You did say something. You wanted—and I totally just brushed you off to hang out with the Guard. Adora—” Catra spoke frantically, and it was Adora who cut her off this time.

“Catra, hey, no,” Adora said as she moved closer. “No, you didn’t brush me off. You just. You’ve never had a really solid group of friends before. Of course you got caught up. I like that you have these people who like you and want to hang out with you. I’ve been so busy lately and I’ve been so thankful that you’ve found these people to keep you company when I can’t,” Adora said honestly.

“It’s just that...I’m not used to having to share your attention. And it’s...it’s making me feel a little insecure—which I hate. I don’t want to be jealous of your friends. I don’t want to keep you away from them,” she admitted, looking at her hands now, ashamed of how she was feeling.

Catra reached out and threaded their fingers. “Adora…” she breathed softly as she squeezed Adora’s hand. “You should have said something, dummy,” she said affectionately, reaching out with her free hand to smooth Adora’s hair back and turn her face up.

“I’ve only been spending so much time with those idiots because I’ve been wanting to give you space to relax,” Catra admitted. “I thought that having me around, wanting your attention after you’d had to listen to people bitch and complain all day would just cause you more stress.” She leaned forward some more to press a kiss to Adora’s lips softly. “I’ve been missing you too, Adora.”

Adora let out a sigh of relief, and then a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob. She shot forward and wrapped her arms around Catra in a hug, holding her tight. “You’re sure you’re not unhappy with me? You wouldn’t rather be with C.K.?” Adora asked, finally voicing her deepest concerns.

“What?” Catra asked softly as she held Adora tighter, seemingly undisturbed by the fact that she was getting soaked by the bath. “Adora, Captain Kass is married. To a man. And besides that, I don’t want anyone but you. You make me happier than anything.”

Adora let out another sigh of relief. “Oh, I’m so glad,” she breathed as she pressed her face into Catra’s neck.

— . —

That little jealous monster was finally evicted.