#i like to think he’d also support me using him to walk myself through being kinder to myself

[topflights]

cracks knuckles. in the face of wanting to drop out of college i remind myself again. hangman adam page would want me to do well on my midterms hangman adam page would believe in me to get this work done hangman adam page would be proud of me for trying so hard hangman adam page would support me even if i ended up failing these tests

[shewrites444]

fire [coriolanus snow x reader smut]

[Hello! It has been awhile. I wanted to switch it up and try out a fic on young Coriolanus Snow’s character from TBOSAS after hearing about the new Hunger Games movie! Please let me know if you enjoy his character. I also apologize if this story has some imperfections, I did not edit it.]

WC - 4.3k

SUMMARY - The reader is a prestigious pianist and composer for the Capitol. She finds herself in a mental, and physical, battle against her attraction to President Snow throughout his dictatorial rule and loveless marriage as months go on. Attempting to get under his skin through a rather bold encounter, she finds herself back to where she started as he reminds her of their similarities, but she holds more power above him than anticipated. 

WARNINGS - Cheating, angst, cursing, choking, fingering, detailed & unprotected sex. Coriolanus is a bit sexist and also doesn’t know how to shut the hell up, so fair warning on that. 

-

Coriolanus had spent the past few months focused on nothing but his political reputation, and the power he only continued to gain in the Capitol, along with the Districts. Well, it was more of a submission than anything, fear spread through Panem as his reign as President, or as many called him, a dictator, was unveiled. 

He had no focus on his chosen wife, Livia Cardew, knowing that she was solely a prop for visual acceptance, a showcase of a wife that he was able to find someone who supported him through his political career, and the most important time of the year, of course, The Hunger Games.

When the games were approaching, the Capitol organized several socials and meetings throughout the upcoming weeks in order to network Coriolanus with his political and social allies, the game-makers, the Academy students that were interested in working with Dr. Gaul and the rest of her associates, and any other connections that were essential to the duration of a successful season. 

I found it disgusting, and inhumane, just like those in the Districts, but I, just like everyone else who was ranked underneath President Snow, had to find ways to cautiously approach such a season of brutality. 

Serving the Capitol as a pianist and musical coordinator by trade, I found ways to avoid the Districts and remain in a fairly comfortable lifestyle as the years went on. I had been working mainly for Coriolanus’ wife, Livia, for her social events held with other women of the Capitol on weekends, typically. I had assumed Livia told Coriolanus of my talents, and the orchestra I would often accompany, so that’s when he had me perform before a meeting with several of his associates. That’s when it all began.

Was I just ashamed? Yes, but I was more disgusted with myself than anything. That was the best way to put it.

It was shameful, and quite out of character for me to be a mistress, for one, but it was worse to know the same man I often slept with was the reason for so many innocent and unforgiving deaths across Panem. How the hell was I supposed to get out of this entanglement, though? If I left, or even expressed that I was thinking about it, I’d be as good as dead. 

I hadn’t seen him in a few weeks, but when the buzz amongst the games began to pick up, I knew he’d be in my vicinity soon enough. Livia had asked me to perform for a social before the Reaping Ceremony, which I obviously obliged to. Something in me felt that she knew of my arrangement with her husband, but something else told me she didn’t even care. She had all the power in the world, and Coriolanus wouldn’t dare harm her; it would forever damage his reputation. She had nothing to lose. She knew I had everything to lose. 

“You were wonderful, as always.” Livia chimed, handing me a glass of wine as I walked onto the marble floor soon after my performance. I returned a gentle smile, sipping lightly from the clear glass before clearing my throat to speak up. I was used to being rather quiet, given my nature as a pianist. I spent most of my time practicing and playing in solitary, so I was not much of a talker, especially now that things had changed over the course of the past few months, but I kept my composure, and I remembered who I was conversing with. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Snow. I find it an honor you allow me to perform for such special occasions.” I say, my eyes scanning the room as I watch men and women of heavy rank socialize throughout the floor, some already dining, some already on their second drink of the night, maybe more.. 

Livia looked me up and down briefly, watching my nervous demeanor unwind. She watched me stand still, glancing around the chattery room, my fingertips lightly tapping my glass. A small smile wrinkled onto her lips. “Well, I will leave you be, Miss [Y/N], I’m sure you are quite tired.” She reached to gently hold my shoulder, sending a cold shudder across my bare skin. “Have a wonderful evening, alright?”

“Yes, of course, you as well, Mrs. Snow.” I watch her walk away, feeling as if I could finally breathe again. 

I felt faint, nerves stemming from Livia’s appearance sending me over the edge, and the usual guilt I felt only more demanding as seconds passed. I set my glass down before walking out the ballroom’s door, which led down a dim hallway stacked with offices, and a bathroom more towards the back. I had been here plenty of times before, so I knew a spot where I could cool off and freshen up for a few moments. 

Opening the bathroom door, I felt a hand press against the wall beside me, to stop me. I glanced up, his pale, slim fingers planted to the side of my head, making my face turn white. I slowly let go of the door, turning to face Coriolanus. He looked down at me, a sly look on his already smug expression, no shame in his blue eyes. It made my stomach turn.

“President Snow.” I said, my eyes averting to each side of the hallway, scanning the wide space to assure that no one was around, before looking back up to meet his gaze. “You startled me. I was just going to freshen up before heading back to the party.”

“Please, spare me the formality, [Y/N].” He grinned, taking his hand off the wall before moving it to my cheek, making my face heat up. “Come with me, hm?”

“Your wife is not even two doors down, Coriolanus.” I drip his name out in a cautious whisper, which he had given me permission for ages ago. He struck me as the type of man who’d prefer a formal reference, maybe even find attraction in it, but I suppose he’d rather something else from me. I didn’t question it. “And the rest of your business partners, might I add.”

Coriolanus laughed, almost mockingly, at my seriousness. “You think she is not aware of you and I, [Y/N]? She is not a fool.” He patted my flushed cheek before he grabbed my hand. “Now come with me.”

I didn’t argue further, just nodding silently before following him down the hallway. I recognized where he was leading me, just from a different direction. The Capitol was like a maze, at least the inside of it, but I had memorized much of it from Coriolanus, and my work. We head to his bedroom, the sound of my heels clicking against the glossed floor while he walked me further.

I hear him close the door, mentally preparing myself for what was to come. It’s not like I didn’t want him, because I did, it was more that I didn’t want the reprimands of being caught, or feeling so dirty for what I was doing. There was an underlying guilt each and every time I slept with him, or even as much as I spoke to him, no matter what the circumstances were. 

As the door locked, Coriolanus turned to walk towards me, before I took a step back, much to his surprise. He raised one of his light eyebrows, a confused, yet intrigued look on his face. I never denied him, and who’s to say that I was? I didn’t even know what I was doing, other than thinking out loud, which only made my blood run colder.

The tension in the room was tight, and could be cut from a string as thin as the threads that held what was under my gown together. I could hear myself breathing, and my thoughts racing to spit out of my shut mouth. My eyes lifted up to his own, and I stood straight, and firmly.

“Out of all the women in the Capitol, out of everyone you could have in the ways you have me, why did you choose to tangle me into your mess?” I ask, rather impressed with my own forwardness. “Why must it be me?”

Coriolanus shared a similar look as my own, but his expression curated itself into some sort of cheeky grin, almost as if he enjoyed my slight rebellion. He knew I didn’t take orders, so he never bothered ordering me around. He didn’t have to ask, he knew I liked it, and he knew I’d comply, and he also knew I felt guilty every time, but I never posed such a question, until now.

He tucked his hands into his slacks, stepping closer, his slim, tall build hovering before me.

“It is you because I find everything I prefer in you.” He answered flatly, following my questions. “My wife has no regard for anything but her own status, which I can admire, but she does not have any reason to achieve anything more. The women who seek to improve their status, say, by sleeping with me or attempting to, seek to achieve more than they ever will. Then there is you, who is firmly placed in between all of these women, who holds prestige, who holds respect, yet, in every way possible, feels that she is less deserving of it because she holds attraction to the one man she cannot have.”

His words frustrated me beyond my usual measure, and I couldn’t contain the pressure pent up in my chest, eagerly awaiting to push through my quivering lips. He angered me, and he made me feel lesser, when this entire time, he was the one who took out his frustrations on me, and he was the one who ran from every ounce of affection he was once offered, and threw it at me. It was always in the back of my head, yet I found myself in a delusion, one where I would never allow myself to see the truth, but it all came to me as he spoke. 

“You are the one who cannot have me. How could I make that anymore clear? After all this time, all these months of you thinking your usage was one-sided, how could you not see it, Coriolanus?” I loosened up my posture, and stepped forward, nearly closing the irritable gap that was between the two of us. “You are the one who finds me after my performances, you are the one who pursues me, time and time again. I comply, yes, but I am not the one who soughts after you.”

He blinked. I could read it as clear as day that he was taken aback by my words. A satisfying feeling burned in me, yet the tension geared towards the uncertainty of our conversation never left. I spoke up, and I was not pretty about it. What would he do now? Surely a pianist disappearing wasn’t common, but I wasn’t Capitol royalty, so it’s not like he couldn’t disregard me if he wanted to. Would he do that? No, I was too valuable to him in more ways than one. How worked up he got over this affair showed me that.

“Seems we both have our issues.” He hummed. Another foot stepped closer to me, the tip of his shoe nearly stepping on mine, but he knew that. He reached forward after pulling his hands out of his pockets, and cupped my cheeks with both of his cold, large hands. His thumbs pressed against my lips, and I could feel my lipstick brush against his fingers. “Yet neither of us have ended the arrangement between us. Why do you think that is?”

“Don’t make me answer that.” I shake my head, reaching my hands up to pull him off of me, and lightly push him away. “I will not engage in such a conversation.”

“You’re the one who started this conversation.” Coriolanus grabbed my wrists, yanking me forward. He leaned down to press his lips against my own, causing me to gasp, and attempt to fight it, but I couldn’t.

He knew I liked it, and he knew how to use it against me. I sunk into the feeling for a brief moment, before I pushed him off me, my hands planted against his dress shirt as I gripped the material, holding him in place while he looked down at me, his once slicked back curls falling forward, a few loose hairs against his forehead as he grinned, my lipstick against his pale lips. He tilted his head, his hands moving to grip my waist rather harshly, just enough to keep me still.

“Do I have to remind you how crucial this arrangement is to you? To make you answer my question, hm?” He held me, walking me closer to the opposite side of the room. Aggressively, he kissed me once more, flipping my body to face his vanity, while still keeping my face turned to his own.

He ran his hands down the side of my gown, bunching it up enough that he could push it underneath my chest to remain upright. “You claim to despise what happens between us so much, and you hate that you are what stands between my marriage, yet you cannot seem to walk out the door. Come on, [Y/N], you and I both know you are a bit afraid to fully defy me, but you don’t even try to, until now. But it’s all talk, you’ll never really break anything off.” He reached between my legs, which nearly trembled at his touch, as his fingers slipped into my underwear. 

“And you’re already wet.” Coriolanus mocked, looking at me in the mirror as he slowly slipped one of his fingers into me. He watched my mouth open, a pleased, and frankly, egotistical grin on his face, knowing he had gotten to that part of me so quickly. “Is this why you have not ended what continues on between us? Because no man can make you cum the way I do? Am I really so vital to you?”

“You are insufferable.” I gasp, closing my eyes as he began to work his fingers into me, the sounds of my pleasure much more relevant in his room than I’d prefer them to be. “There are many things you refuse to admit to me, too.”

“Exactly.” Coriolanus looked between my legs as I stood before him, the pressure in his pants brushing against the back of my gown. “We are two different people, yes, but we both have secrets that we strongly refuse to admit, yet we can read it on each other’s faces. You know I’m right. I see you more than anyone else, and you hate it. You hate that I can see you.”

“Then why do you treat this with such amusement?” I chime back, opening my eyes to glue them to what was occurring before me. I could feel his free hand move to begin sliding my underwear down. “Why do you mock me, when the scenario applies to yourself?”

“Because I have nothing to lose.” He returns, shooting me a glare as he drops my underwear to the floor as they pass my hips. “My wife is aware of my distaste for her, and for much of any affections. The Capitol will never question me because they know their lives, and their families, are at stake. No one will question me, [Y/N]. They have too much to lose.”

I feel him move his hand behind my back, tugging at the zipper that restrained him. He keeps his rhythm, and he keeps his eyes against my figure. He knew he had the upper hand, it would be impossible for me to overturn his rank, and his power, and nearly everything he had that I did not. I was constantly reminded of it, especially like this. 

“Then why entertain the idea of me holding any sort of power over you through our affections? Why bother administering mockery upon me, Coriolanus?” I hiss through clear annoyance, struggling to hide the pleasure that wouldn’t seem to brush away from my core. He wasn’t giving up any sort of competence. 

Coriolanus lightly pulled his fingers from me, grazing them against my inner thighs before turning me around, and holding them to his mouth. He licked his fingertips, causing my stomach to drop at the sight, while a smirk cracked onto his tinted lips. 

“I have never been with a woman who tastes as good as you.” The sound of his tongue swirling against his fingers made me weak, and the way that someone so manipulative, so cruel, was licking a part of me, felt wrong, yet it didn’t. It was a confusing battle with oneself. “You hold that power, if you must know.”

He pulled his fingers away from his lips, wiping his hand against my dress before tugging it out from under my covered chest, standing straight as he began to pull it off me, and I just let him. Fucking hell.

“You think I’d fuck a woman I didn’t hold any sort of value to? You think I would waste my time with mindless affairs filled with women whose sole purpose in life is to please me, and to please their husbands? The only pleasure they gain from me is validation, nothing more.” He moved my dress down my shoulders. “You want me to fuck you, [Y/N]. Not just any man of rank, me. It makes you sick, doesn’t it?”

“You fancy me just as much as you do anything else you do for yourself.” I feel him move my gown above my head, over my long, slicked ponytail. “You do this for yourself, no one else. You like that I feel such a way.”

He shook his head, dropping my dress on the floor beside my underwear. “Power and value are different. If I wanted to have power over a woman, I’d be fucking my wife, not you.”

My eyes widened at his words. What was his angle here? This argument was endless. “Then why do you act like you have so much power over me? You want to talk to me about value, yet you show none of it. You only exert power, and your ego, against me everytime I feel your touch. You fuck me like you own me, like you hold such a rule, yet you claim that I hold some sort of power. You baffle me.” 

He took my hands and moved them to his length, in which I nearly shivered upon touch, reminded of each and every time he came close to me, and how large he felt when he was inside me. I lightly stroked him soon after I spoke, watching his bottom lip slightly fall at my fingers. He began to unbutton his shirt.

“Am I supposed to make this easy for you?” He teased, sliding his shirt off his shoulders, now standing in nothing but his unzipped pair of pants and boxers that rested just above them. “Must all you women figure things out without assistance for once?”

“Oh, god,” I scoff, my eyes rolling off irritable instinct as I continued my actions against his stiffened cock. “You are-”

“Insufferable?” Coriolanus cued, raising his brows, his hands moving to guide me towards his bed, as we mutually climbed onto it. “I don’t imagine my cock is insufferable, at least, given your generous duration of touch.”

I groan, watching him lay as I motion my body on top of his. If I had some sort of power, as he seemed to suspiciously claim I do, surely I could show it? I glance at him, feeling his hands reach below to grab my ass, toying with the loose flesh as his instinct brought me above him. 

I don’t respond, rather slide on top of him in a swift motion, causing the both of us to moan rather loudly, nearly echoing across his lavish suite of a bedroom. I watched his eyes fall to my bare chest, before gliding down to the movement between us, as I began to move my body forward. 

“If you claim that I am of such value to you… and you give into submissions at times, then you’ll allow me to control you… hm?” I speak between heavy breaths, feeling his thick, restless cock bury between my thighs as I create a rhythm above him. 

“Like I said to you before, [Y/N], I’m not supposed to make it easy for you.” His eyes never left our bodies while he guided me down. “You’ll see.”

I lean down, his cock angling itself at a curve as I reach to slide my hands to his shoulders, gently kneading at his flesh before resting both palms against his pale neck, my nails digging into the back of it, sliding into his blonde locks. A grin tugs at my lips while I press them against his own, feeling his tongue slide into my mouth and muffle the moans I made with each stroke. 

I squeeze at his neck, my thumbs pressing against his adam’s apple while I ride his cock. Thrust after thrust, I could feel him twitch, knowing he was growing weaker and weaker as I went on. He liked the dominance, but he’d never admit it. Instead he’d toy with me, attempt to make me feel as if I had to work for his value, when I already had it. I had him, and I had all this time. I had nothing to lose. 

“What if it melts?” I ask vaguely, looking down at him amidst the loose hairs against my face. “What will you do then?”

Coriolanus released his hands from my ass, moving them higher to my chest, his thumbs toying with my hardened nipples as he held me up, but my hands remained on his throat. I could feel it move as he spoke. “What if what melts?” 

“Snow.” I breathe heavily at his stimulating touch, while I begin to pick up my speed between us. “What will you do if the snow melts?”

Coriolanus scoffed, pressing his thumbs down. “It won’t.”

I press down and lean down simultaneously, shaking my head as I laugh, the feeling of my physical position never leaving, only growing as I mocked him further. I knew how it felt now, to toy with the one who peaked your interest so high. No wonder he enjoyed this.

“If I hold such value, such power over you, Coriolanus, it’s bound to melt. Snow cannot be on top if something is to compromise it, hm? Must I remind you of what occurred the last time you allowed someone to hold power over you?”

I couldn’t believe I brought her up. Yes, I knew of Lucy Gray, just as many of us musicians did. I never knew her personally, but I was aware of what lengths Coriolanus went to erase her from existence for his political, social, and mental gain. Is that part of the reason I feared walking away, even if I wanted to? Yes. But I knew he wouldn’t kill me, or send me off. He’d have no one if not. 

“Shut the hell up.” He moved his hands to hold me by my face. “This is different.”

“In some ways, yes.” I feel his hands move my hair behind my ears, his eyes locked against mine. He was angry, but he was allowing me to speak further, so not angry enough. “In other ways, it is quite the same.”

“Damn you, woman. Experiencing quite the power trip, aren’t you? Why don’t you do so after we fuck?” He growled, one of his hands reaching past my face to grab the end of my ponytail, yanking it down to cause my head to rise up, my back arching in the process, gasping as he thrusts upward, sending volts through my stomach. 

Don’t lose control, [Y/N]. Don’t you dare let him fuck you into submission.

“If you think for just a second that this is not changing things for you, then you are a fool.” I spit, opening my eyes to stare down at him, fighting his grip against my ponytail. I feel his other hand move from my face to my jaw, holding my face down to face his own. “You can’t do this without me. You spend far too much time with a mistress to disregard her, and you fucking know it. That’s what makes you sick.”

All he could do was curse under his breath, his grip on my hair, and on my face, loosening. Was he admitting defeat? Was he finally showcasing some sort of disadvantage? 

I leaned down to pull him into a sloppy kiss, my tongue sliding into his mouth as he lightly pressed his own against mine, yet allowing me to hold the dominance. The feeling was strange but enjoyable, knowing that I was able to hold mental and physical assertion over such a man. 

I could feel him grunt underneath me, his body limp as I fucked his restlessly, until I could feel myself tighten against him, and his cock pump into me, lightly thrusting upwards to ride out the high that he pushed into me. I watched his face as I held his neck still, his eyes closed and his mouth agape while he came. His cheeks were flushed. I knew he felt defeated, and I knew in some way, he enjoyed it. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

I slowly got off of him, feeling his cum lightly stick between my thighs while I motioned to lay aside him. My hands were warm from their grip, and I rested one against his cheek, turning him to face me. 

“Do you know what makes snow melt?” He asks through a horse tone, looking up to me. He knew I wouldn’t give him the answer he was looking for, so he watched me silently shake my head. He reached forward to hold my own cheek, pulling me down to his lips, but not for a kiss. He let me hover, before he spoke quietly, his hot breath against me. 

“Fire.”

[wickjump]

Hey. Hey come here.

*gets really close and whispers in your ear*

Nightmare with leg problems/chronic pain in legs that he doesn't want to admit/acknowledge until one day he literally falls down in front of one of his gang members (like Killer for example) and finally needs to acknowledge it and is forced to go to a doctor and finds out he needs to use a cane (or be a part time wheelchair user or something) and he's very upset about this and Dream is confused on why there hasn't been any attacks on AUs recently, meanwhile the gang is helping Night get used to this.

*runs away*

(Sorry if this was inaccurate on chronic pain idk much about it)

OOH OOH ME ME i have chronic pain!!!! granted in my back not legs BUT I HVAE IT!!! aw i love chronic pain headcanons they make me feel happy. it’s good to be in pain when other characters also are so you can write it well (i recently was in the emergency room for it)

i feel like he would find other ways to continue his work even without the use of his legs (ie using tentacles to walk/move around, which we’ve seen him use before, and def have other types of pain—head pain and migraines, for example, because half his head was blown off. he 🤝 horror )the worst migraines ever)

he’s a very work oriented type character, regardless of interpretation he’s often doing work in some shape or form, whether physical or paperwork; i don’t think that would change at all. i love aid users btw, especially hcs too theyre so underrepresented, and i def think that works for other characters, but nightmare,, wouldn’t, the same way i haven’t gotten a cane despite how that would probably make my life easier. I’m a ‘tough through the pain’ kind of person—I’ll feel it regardless, it’s best to chuck pain meds and get on with my day. and nightmare does have options—again, tentacles, the ability to grow said tentacles and generally shift to provide aids on his own.

sans would use a cane/wheelchair 100%, as would most other classic variants or swap papyri. they don’t care nearly enough to make themselves feel pain on the daily for sake of “usefulness” or “appearances”. nightmare, i just don’t think would. he views his cause as too important and neglecting his pain like i or others can do seems more fitting. he’d despise not being able to move as ‘freely’ as he’d like even if it would be better for him. on worse days he sits down the entire time in his office and makes his henchmen do his dirty work. he’d find ways to work with it—he is 500 years old after all.

but holy shit do i LOVE the headcanon where he has chronic pain in his legs!!!!!!!!!! i feel that he uses something that acts like a cane but isn’t sometimes, something like a staff that he subconsciously uses to support himself while still looking ‘prestigious’ or whatever the fuck. but traditional aids? no way. he’d sooner die than go to a doctor, he’s too full of himself and cocky to get help from someone, especially one he doesn’t know. even in a fanon approach where his gang urges him to do something about it, he’d rather make a remedy for worse pain himself.

idk just my thoughts!!!!! also don’t skip out on getting aids or pain meds nightmare is immortal and a fucking stuck up asshole and an idiot. go to a doctor. get checked out. get prescription pain meds and aids if you need them. do all the things, don’t do what i do im just a dick to myself and probably a bit of a masochist given how little i ask for help with these things 😭

ANYWAY YA!!!! love this hc so much thank u anon,,

[n0tangeliccc]

Important

Jimmy x reader

(All characters are 18+)

Warning: depiction of a panic attack, emetophobia (nothing ever happens but it’s mentioned throughout)

A/N: self-indulgent fluff after that angst lol (also this is based off my own experiences with panic attacks!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ✧˖°.

Jimmy knew how much your social anxiety affected your everyday life. You guys actually met when he found you having a panic attack near one of staircases at school and he helped you through it. After that day you guys spent every moment together and eventually started dating.

He kept you together, always noticing the signs before you had one and helping you stay grounded. He’d keep your dates more reserved, kept your relationship lowkey in case you felt nervous about being shown off (as much as he’d love to do that), and even privately live-streamed his shows so you wouldn’t have to be surrounded by strangers to support him.

Maybe it was your anxiety but you felt terrible for never being there even if Jimmy did his best to assure you that he appreciated you no matter how you watched his shows but you were determined to watch him from the audience.

You took a deep breath as your shaky hands opened the door of the club, you were meeting up with Jimmy’s friend group who had graciously let you hangout with them during the show.

You felt how your chest tightened and your breath began to quicken as you walked over to them noticing everyone around you, it was a packed show. Nausea began to overtake you as you reached them, you waved at them and quickly sat down before shallowing hard pushing down the puke you could feel coming up.

“Hey are you okay Y/N?” Tolkien asked concerned, his hand comfortingly rubbing your shoulder. You and Tolkien had become close after you got with Jimmy since they were best friends, eventually he also learned the signs of your panic attacks and often helped you with Jimmy. “Y-yeah I’m fine…” You take another deep breath trying your hardest to calm down. “Hmm, remember I’m here for you okay? We can leave whenever you need” He gave you a soft smile and you nodded.

Your leg bounced rapidly as you waited for Jimmy’s set to start. Clyde had offered to buy you a drink to calm down your nerves but you knew that would only make the overwhelming nausea worse. Tweek and Craig gave you a sympathetic look and offered to take you outside for a breather but you refused. It was hard enough to walk in through those doors the first time you didn’t want to do it again.

You compulsively checked your phone trying to find a distraction, the screen looked blurry from the tears welling up in your eyes. “Shit…” You bit your lip hard as you felt pressure building up in your chest. You hadn’t even been here for an hour, shit Jimmy’s set hadn’t even started and you could already feel the panic running through your veins. “I don’t think I’m gonna make it” Your voice shook as you turned to Tolkien “Do you want me to leave with you?” “N-no, I c-can go by myself” Was the last thing the boys heard before you ran out.

The world felt like it was spinning and everything was blurry as you stepped out trying to find a quiet place to calm down. Chocked out sobs left your lips as you made your way to the alleyway next to the club. You sat with your knees to your chest as you struggled to breathe. You wished your boyfriend was here to comfort you, make you feel safe like he always did but bother him was the last thing you wanted to do especially during a show. Unbeknownst to you the guys had ran backstage to get Jimmy.

“W-w-where are t-they?” Jimmy asked extremely concerned. “We don’t know they just ran out as fast as they could and didn’t want us to follow” Tolkien frowned “I might have an idea of where they are.” Craig chimed in, “There alleyway next to the club is surprisingly quiet and they might have gone to hide there” “How do you know that?” “Shut up Clyde”. Jimmy rolled his eyes before walking out of his dressing room, “Where are you going? What about your show?” Clyde yelled out at Jimmy. “M-m-my partner is m-m-more important t-t-han the show” He yelled back as he walked out.

As he walked out he heard soft cries being muffled from the loudness of the club, that had to be you. “Y-y/n?” He asked walking around to the alleyway, “Jimmy?” You looked up at him through teary eyes, “Yeah it m-me b-b-babe” he made his way over to you and moved your hair from your tear stained face, “Why are you here? What about the show?” “S-s-s-screw the sh-show your more i-important” He sat next to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“Im sorry” “Why?” “For ruining your show…” You sniffled. Jimmy gave you a soft smile and pressed a soft kiss to your temple “Y-y-you didn’t r-r-ruin my show,” he chuckled “and I’m p-p-proud of you for every t-t-trying to come w-w-watch me”. You wiped away your tears and smile softly feeling your breathing slowly going back to normal, just having him around could calm you down sometimes and hearing him say how proud he was of you make you feel even better. “Really?” “Of c-c-course b-babe,” Jimmy grinned “how could I n-n-not be?” “I didn’t even make it to your set Jim” you laughed “So? Y-you came to s-s-see me and t-t-thats all that m-matters”

You smile softly and lay your head on his shoulder, “I love you Jimmy”, “I l-l-love you too Y/N” he stroked your hair softly “A-a-and no sh-show will ever b-b-be more important than y-y-you”

“Promise?”

“P-promise”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ✧˖°.

To my lovely Jimmy lovers @imm0rtalken @p1f1, give me my kisses

[abstractnaturaldisaster]

Steddie Flower Shop / Tattoo Parlor AU

I’m so sorry this is an angsty one again but it ends hopefully (and the whole fic ends happy I promise, no bummers 2k23). 

Part One I Part Two I Part Three I Part Four I Part Five I Part Six I Also on AO3!

Robin was running late. It wasn’t unusual but she did try to make an effort for Steve who was way too understanding about it. She had overslept and by the time she was up, Steve had already made a pot of coffee and left for the studio. Robin poured the rest into a travel mug and sped out the door texting Steve she was on her way. 

“Steve! I’m so sorry I totally missed my alarm.” She said as she ran back into the small back office. 

“It’s all good,” Steve answered. He seemed off to Robin. She started getting set up at the front to go through and organize Steve’s books and work on the shop’s instagram when she noticed that Steve hadn’t picked up Eddie’s flowers yet. 

“Are you going to grab lunch with Eddie today?” Robin asked. 

“Oh, no. Probably not. I mean he’s probably busy with Valentine’s orders or whatever.”

Robin knew something was wrong then. Steve and Eddie had been hanging out pretty regularly since their happy hour and Robin couldn’t remember the last time they didn’t at least drop off lunch for each other on busy days. “Do you need to run over to pick up your bouquet? The front desk is looking a little bare.”

“Not today, Robs.” Steve answered. 

“Okay, Steve, now I know something is wrong. What’s up? Did Eddie do something?”

“No, I mean. It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.” Steve said. 

“Steve, I’m here if you need me.” Robin patted his shoulder. 

“I just thought he was different. Like he got what I was doing here, Robin,” Steve sighed. “I mean we were hanging out and I showed him some of my sketches of his flowers and told him how much I think they’d be a great tattoo for him and I dunno he got super standoffish about it. He just kind of left and honestly I can’t deal with trying to validate myself and my art to someone else. I’m just so tired of it.” 

Robin took Steve in a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, babe. He seemed like he wouldn’t be the type. I had no idea.”

“It’s fine, Robin. I mean I guess I should have expected it with his whole metal vibe or whatever.” Steve said. “I’ll be okay. I’m mostly used to it. I gotta go get ready for my client.” Steve stood and walked out of the back room to start preparing the space for his appointment. 

Robin was at a loss. Eddie had honestly seemed so different from the last few people Steve had been interested in. She felt like she was missing pieces. Robin didn’t want to betray Steve’s trust but also she didn’t want Steve to lose Eddie. She decided to text Chrissy a code red to meet at a coffee shop nearby asap. 

Chrissy showed up shortly after Robin had ordered and sat down. “Hey Robin. I’m going to hear you out because you’re my friend out but I’m pretty pissed at Steve.”

“We’re on the same page, Chris. I had half a mind to go yell at Eddie first but I’m worried about Steve and I think maybe there’s something he’s missing.” Robin said. “Can we just talk through what happened? I have a feeling our boys are being purposefully dense about something.”

“I didn’t get much out of Eddie. He was in quite the mood this morning. But I can maybe help decipher some of the Eddieisms,” Chrissy answered. 

“Perfect. Okay so here’s what I know. Steve and Eddie were hanging out last night. Steve’s been working on these sketches of Eddie’s flowers because he’s terrible at expressing his feelings like a normal person. I guess he showed them to Eddie and Eddie gave him shit about it when Steve said he’d like to tattoo Eddie.”

“All I got out of Eddie was that he thought Steve was a pretentious shit about tattoos. He was grumbling all morning about rich kids and not understanding growing up without access to everything.”

Robin was starting to put the pieces together. Steve had grown up in a pretty wealthy suburb of Chicago and his parents had supported him for most of his life. It was only when he’d decided to become a tattoo artist that he lost that support and he was still a little bit of an idiot about money. 

“Chrissy, I’m going to share something pretty personal about Steve and I’m only doing this because I think this was all a giant misunderstanding and if you or Eddie use this information to hurt Steve they will never find your bodies.”

“Understood.” Chrissy answered. 

“So, Steve doesn’t ever tattoo friends or family. It’s something he has held absolutely firm on since he apprenticed. He tells people it’s because he doesn’t want to have to look at his work all the time or jokes that he’d just find flaws in it and want to fix it. Knowing Steve, I think that’s just part of the issue. I think he’s scared to give something so permanent to someone. He’s had a lot of people just leave him and I don’t think he could stand it if he tattooed a friend and they left. He takes his work super seriously. I know he can come off as an asshole but he’s had to build up a pretty thick skin doing the type of tattoos he does. He’s gotten a lot of shit for being too feminine. It sounds like he took whatever reaction Eddie had to their talk yesterday as a rejection of him. Steve’s worked so hard to be comfortable with himself and he definitely already thought Eddie was way too cool for him so I think his ego is probably a little bit bruised.” Robin knew she had been monologuing so she took a breath she hadn’t noticed she’d been holding and drank some of her coffee. 

“Robin, I can’t promise anything, but I will talk to Eddie.”

“That’s all I want. I’m sorry I know this is a super weird place for us to be but I think maybe the guys just need a little help getting over themselves.” Robin said. 

Chrissy was glad Robin had told her about what Steve said. Eddie was kind of closed book but before he’d gotten to know Steve, Eddie would be a little judgy about the fancy studio and the cost. Eddie had tattoos but they were mostly things friends gave him in exchange for his help moving or to commemorate a big show or something. He’d never really had money to invest in any bigger tattoos. Chrissy knew Eddie hadn’t grown up rich but other than that her knowledge of his childhood was pretty limited. Even over the years Chrissy had known Eddie she’d only picked up small pieces of Eddie’s upbringing. He didn’t share a lot but he grew up with pretty shitty parents. His mom had died when Eddie was pretty young so when his dad went to prison at some point Eddie went to live with his uncle in a trailer park in the Chicago suburbs. His uncle didn’t have much but he made a home for Eddie. Chrissy thought something Steve had said to Eddie hit a little too close to his past and Eddie’s defenses had shot back up. She didn’t know if she could get him to come back around but Eddie had been noticeably happier with Steve and she figured it was at least worth a try.

“Eddie! I need to talk to you!” Chrissy yelled as she walked back into the flower shop. 

“No time. Heading back out on delivery.” Eddie grumbled as he walked past her out to the van

“Then I’m going with you.” Chrissy jumped into the passenger seat before Eddie could peel out into the street. 

“Fine.”

Chrissy let Eddie stew in silence as the van started up. She was surprised not to hear Eddie’s usual metal soundtrack. Eddie quickly went to pull the cassette out of the tape player but Chrissy had caught enough of the opening to recognize it. 

“Jesus, Eddie. I didn’t know it was You’ve Lost that Loving Feeling, bad.” Chrissy had discovered the Hall & Oates tape shortly after it had been added to the van’s usual rotation of cassettes. When she asked about it, Eddie had blamed Steve with a goofy smile on his face. 

“Chris, not today.” 

“Can I say one thing and then we can go back to not talking about it?” Chrissy asked. 

“Fine.”

“Okay great. Robin told me about something that happened between you and Steve last night. I know it’s your business and I promised to leave it alone but I am just here to give information. It’s up to you if you do anything with it. First, I know we made fun of all the pretentious hipster vibes of Steve’s shop when he first moved in but I really thought you of all people would know not to judge a book by its cover. Second, you have to know Steve is super into you by now. I mean y’all are basically always together if you’re not working.”

“That’s not true. I do other stuff.” Eddie interrupted. 

“Sure, whatever you say. Stop interrupting me. I know you’re sensitive about your past and I also know you haven’t said anything to Steve about your parents so do you think you might have been a little harsh last night?”

Eddie has pulled into their first stop and jumped out of the van to make the drop off. Chrissy waited for him to get back. 

“One more thing, and then I promise you can blare whatever shitty break up song you need to for the rest of the day. I think maybe you’re pushing Steve away because he scares you. It’s been forever since you’ve been with anyone seriously. Steve seems so good for you. I don’t know what he said that made your walls slam back up but maybe he didn’t mean it the way you thought he did? You’re kind of an intimidating person to be vulnerable with.”

Chrissy let Eddie process what she said for the rest of the delivery route. They got back to the shop late and started closing up. When Chrissy had packed up for the day she went to give Eddie a hug and held him close for a little longer than usual. 

“I’m here if you need me but please just sleep on it before you make any rash decisions?” Chrissy said as she let go of Eddie.

Eddie nodded and went back to cleaning up his work bench to get ready for another day of Valentine’s induced hell. It was absolutely the worst time for Eddie to have any sort of relationship drama because he’d be surrounded by love hearts for a least two more days. Eddie laughed at himself for that. He’d have to actually have been in a relationship to have relationship drama. He was an idiot. Steve reminded Eddie of his worst high school bullies. The guys who called him trailer trash and pushed him into lockers after Eddie had been caught kissing a guy under the bleachers. Logically, Eddie knew Steve wasn’t that way. He had obviously had to deal with his own shit coming up in the tattoo industry. Eddie still hadn’t been able to shake his old feelings of inadequacy when Steve asked if he wanted an “actual” tattoo. He’d felt people’s gaze lingering on his shitty stick and pokes he’d done with friends or let people use him for practice. He’d overheard the comments people made when he went to deliver flowers at fancy office buildings. Eddie hadn’t felt that same level of judgment from Steve but he figured it was just a matter of time. Steve obviously put a lot of time and effort into his tattoos and he must think badly about Eddie’s more cavalier attitude to the markings. 

As Eddie cleaned, he kept working through last night at Steve’s. Chrissy was probably right and that Steve hadn’t meant anything negative and just used the exact wrong phrasing. In fact, looking back, Steve seemed super nervous and worried about Eddie’s reaction. Why Steve was anxious Eddie had no idea. Steve’s sketch was probably the most beautiful tattoo idea he’d ever seen. He’d be honored to get something like from Steve. But of course Eddie hadn’t actually said any of that to Steve after he started freaking out. Stupid.

As Eddie made his way upstairs to get to bed, he was truly exhausted but he couldn’t stop thinking about what Chrissy had said on their afternoon delivery route. Fuck. He owed Steve a pretty big apology. That had to be tomorrow Eddie’s problem; he was too tired to handle it now. Eddie drifted off to sleep thinking about Steve’s feet in his lap and maybe future nerdy movie nights while crossing his fingers he hadn’t fucked up too badly yesterday. 

***

Part Eight! 

I am at such a loss for word that y’all are still hanging with me! I think there’s going to be three more parts of the main story and then maybe some side plots in the same universe. After I wrap up on tumblr I’ll post it to AO3 so it’s all in one place for future reading! c:

I am also obsessed with the big green couch and I am very happy to you all appreciate it to. 

My taglist got super messed up last update so please let me know if I’ve missed anyone or added anyone by accident! Y’all are the best!!

Taglist: @a-little-unsteddie @maya-custodios-dionach @eboyawstenn @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadcanadianwinter @thehumblefigtree @throwbackthrowaway @micheledawn1975 @blisschaoss @vecnuthy @grimmfitzz @spectrum-spectre @croatoan-like-its-hot @momotonescreaming @beckkthewreck @korixae @citrus-owl @baron-zemo-trash @sleepdeprivedflower @nuagedemots @lololol-1234 @books-and-current-obsessions @acrolius @mightbeasleep @vi-an-te @gregre369 @i-must-potato @vampireinthesun  @steveisabicon @child-of-cthulhu @whimsicalwitchm @aceflavouredyougurt @that-bi-gremlin99 @oxidantdreamboat @goodolefashionedloverboi @notaqueenakhaleesi @briceslayed @raisedbylibrarians @bejeweledbaby @avacrebs @magpiemuseum @majesticenbypancake 

[amaryllisenvy]

The Ties That Bind

Part Four Billy the Kid x OC WARNINGS: if you are comfortable with watching the tv show, you should be okay with this entire book. I will definitely try to put more graphic trigger warnings for any extreme scenes! Has mentions of blood, violence, and is a slow-burn once again with a bit more romance.

Part 4:

November 9th, 1876

As he walked her to where she was staying, of which she initially rejected, they talked about the town as they ventured through it. 

There was no shot that he’d let her walk by herself, not when he had lived in Santa Fe long enough to know how the men treated women, how they had treated his mother.

When he told Amaryllis about how his mother had initially met Antrim, she no longer argued about being able to walk herself to her room. He knew that her realization of how important this was to him was the cause of her acquiescence. 

Her uninjured arm was looped through his as they passed by shops and the saloon where so much devastation happened so quickly. 

“Amaryllis!” Billy didn’t waste a second before he stood between the man who approached them quickly from the entrance of the restaurant and boarding house. 

At the feeling of her small hand stopping him by reassuringly resting on his bicep, he relaxed imperceptibly. On the outside, he was as immovable as a mountain in his resolve to protect her.

“Ash.” Yllis let out a relieved sigh and limped to the man. 

She wrapped her arms around him and the man did the same to her, holding her tightly to his chest and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Billy clenched his jaw and looked away from the display. 

“I’m sorry I left without waking you. I just went and patched myself up with supplies we didn’t have in our room.” She pulled away finally and looked up at the man adoringly. “I was hoping I would make it back before you could wake.”

 “You don’t have to apologize. I was just worried, but you’re back and in one piece now.” 

Stepping back from her, the man moved the shawl from her shoulder and grimaced at the blood stain. “What do you say we get you changed?” 

“That would be very appreciated.” Billy’s temper receded foolishly when she gazed at him again. “Ash Upson, I want to introduce you to my new friend. This is Billy Antrim. He was also there last night.”

It took everything in him to not just walk away and head back to Carlos. Her face was just too hopeful and happy for him to disregard her like that. It was like she was excited for Billy to meet him. So, he did what a gentleman should do.

“It’s good to meet you, Mr. Upson.” The two men shook hands cordially.

“It’s good to meet you as well, Billy. I’d like to talk to you about the incident last night. Do you have time now?”

Begrudgingly, he found himself agreeing against his own will. 

What the hell was wrong with him?

Before he could second-guess his actions, Yllis took his hand and started leading him to the stairs landing. “Ash, can you order for us, and we’ll come down and join you?”

Mr. Upson smiled fondly and nodded, splitting away from them to sit at a table in the restaurant. Billy was so fucking confused as to why the man was so accepting of another man helping Yllis change.

Billy helped her climb the stairs safely, staying just behind her for support. When they reached the room, she pulled him in and shut the door behind him. 

“Listen, I don’t think it’s smart for me to be in here with you.” He voiced.

Yllis laughed at him like it was funny. “Why not? Are you planning on hurting me?”

“Course not.” He didn’t mean for his words to come out biting, but they did. “That’s not what I meant. I wouldn’t ever hurt you.”

In his frustration, he didn’t notice her watching him in amusement as he took in the small room. There were no personal belongings except a stack of books on the table and dresses in the closet that wouldn’t close because of the door hanging off its hinges. 

“Can you help me?” Yllis did not comment on what he had said and turned her back to him, trying to pull off her dress but failing miserably with a wince. 

He made quick work of it, taking care to not bump or wrongly position her injured arm. He tossed the dress to the chair in the corner and watched her turn her back to him. 

Billy watched her flick through her dresses before she pulled two out and placed them on the bed. She looked at him and worried her bottom lip between her teeth in a brief moment of hesitation.

“Can you…” her smooth voice trailed off and her eyes were on her underdress.

“Look, Luck. I don’t know if this is appropriate for me to be helping you change when your husband is downstairs waiting for us,” the words he had been itching to say broke free.

Another laugh had him clenching his jaw. “I don’t get how this is funny so why the hell are you laughin'?”

Brown eyes filled with mirth landed on his face, his clenched jaw, the muscle that feathered there, and his hands that were in fists by his sides.

“I was waiting until you got the courage to finally ask. Now, I need you to lift this off of me with your eyes closed. No peeking.” 

“Goddammit, Amaryllis. You know damn well what I’m askin’.”

“I’m really in trouble if you used the full name.” Her eyes were soft and light when she looked at him as if his annoyance wasn’t seconds away from boiling over. “I’ll answer any question you have if you get me out of this soaked and bloodied nightdress first.”

He walked until he stood half of a foot in front of her. Her eyes didn’t break from his for a moment.

“Eyes. Closed.” 

Doing as she said, he had to look away first when he closed them and helped shimmy her out of the nightdress. His mind was going wild. 

This wasn’t holy in the eyes of all gods. 

Did she have something else under there? Or was she a foot away and completely bare and he had to keep his fucking eyes screwed shut? 

Billy could only listen to her steps move away, the rustling of fabric, and the warmth of her body in front of him again. As promised, his eyes remained shut.

She handed him the dress and instructed him to pull it over her head. First, they gently worked together to move her injured arm through. Feeling the new chemise settle over her shoulders, he helped pull the hem of the silken dress down her body. 

His blood rushed hot when the back of his hand grazed smooth round skin for the briefest of moments.

“There. You can open your eyes now.” He didn’t need to be told again and he had never opened them so fast.

Her back was to him and she wore a cream underdress that did nothing to hide her figure. It clung to her frame like water, every curve defined. Turning to him and offering him her last dress was cruel. Billy was still a kid and he couldn’t get a strong enough hold on the reins to take control of his hormones. 

The fabric bunched at her hips and barely covered the tops of her thighs. Sliding up her body, he saw the outline of her breasts and the two peaks that hardened in the cold. 

Fucking hell.

He slammed his eyes shut and breathed deeply before he helped her into her much thicker dress that removed all of her curves from the gazes of the public. He thought the fire in his blood would die when he couldn’t see her femininity under it. That hope was thrown to the wind when nothing changed. 

“Thank you. Now, as promised, ask me whatever you want.” 

Real feelings are in the eyes.

Hers were alight with mischief, the little minx. “You’re a cruel woman.”

The giggle she loosed had his lips turning upward slightly. It was such a soft sound and it was right there that he decided she would be doing it every time she was in his company. He couldn’t survive any other reality.

“Mr. Upson. Why the hell is he okay with me bein’ in here alone with you?”

“I’m sure he has his reservations, but he knows me well enough to not judge my choices. He knows me well enough that he wouldn’t dare try n’ tell me what to do. At least to my face,” She shrugged nonchalantly.

“I’m still not understandin’.”

The sway of her hips and her alluring scent had him heady when she stopped not even a foot away this time. “Mr. Upson is not my husband. That was just an assumption you made.”

With a roll of his eyes, he knew now that she was just being coy because his reactions amused her. “I did make that assumption. But, you wear a fuckin’ wedding ring for Christ’s sake. I’m pretty certain anyone else would have done the same.”

“Well, next time maybe consider just asking? Instead of upsetting yourself and running away with your thoughts, you can just communicate.” 

As crazy as it would have been to follow through with it, he had wanted to kiss her this morning when they were practically pressed against one another as he helped her bandage her wound. 

Standing between her legs and having so much of their bodies almost touch was the sweetest sample of being heaven-struck. Then he saw her ring.

“It was my mother’s ring,” she added mercifully when he didn’t say anything. “It offers me some protection, even just marginally. Rabid men don’t respect when a woman says no. They are, however, slightly more amenable when they think a woman already has a collar with another man’s name ‘round her neck.”

He dropped his gaze from her face to said neck, admiring how gently feminine her features were. He liked how her collarbones were prominent and her shoulders so much more slender than his. The dip where her clavicles dipped to her sternum was one of the most erotic things he had ever seen. 

And that gods damned voice was sweeter than but dripped the same as honey.

“And Billy, do you see a collar ‘round my pretty neck?”

At that, he softened. Lifting his hand, he lightly placed it on the side of her neck. His only thought was how his touch was calloused and too rough to touch something so delicate. Just the slightest contact with him and he felt as though she would be tarnished like her paper-thin chemise was with her blood. 

But I can be gentle.

Billy wanted to learn to be gentle for her and he wanted her to know that he wasn’t one of the rabid men who broke women like they break wild horses. The ones who chain the spirit of willful women.

Being the most gentle he had ever been with anything, he smoothed his thumb up and down her throat. He watched as her pulse skipped at his touch and grinned.

“No. And I don’t think that is something that I ever want to see, Lady Luck.”

------------

“I hear your friend’s assailant isn’t being charged for any part of last night.” Ash Upson’s words didn’t strike Billy as though they could be true.

It was like the world stopped. “What?”

Mr. Upson looked at Yllis and placed a hand over hers that rested on her knee as he gauged her reaction. “They’re saying there were aggravating circumstances; that it was self-defense.”

“Adrenaline coursed through him and his blood felt cold. That’s bullshit! I was there. I saw what happened.” 

“I know that. Everyone who was there and saw what happened knows that.” Mr. Upson kept his voice calm and low, something Billy was so far away from being capable of doing.

Feeling warm hands wrap around his bicep, he turned to look at Amaryllis. She was staring at the foyer with a look of fury and a healthy dose of fear. 

Fear of unpredictable rabid men. 

Billy only felt rage. He felt murderous when he saw the man who had shot his best friend and a lady without hesitation. The same girl that sat to his left and had her small hands wrapped around his arm. Not out of fear for herself, but for him. This realization registered, but Billy wasn’t thinking clearly. He could barely think of anything through the pounding nails in his head that urged him to take his justice. If the criminal justice system failed, he sure as hell wouldn't.

“Billy,” Amaryllis’ voice sounded begging.

“It’s him.” His voice fell out as if someone said the words over his shoulder instead of them falling between his lips.

The raw rage was something he wasn’t familiar with. He stood up roughly and lunged toward the bastard, tearing his arm free from Yllis. He let out a hiss through his teeth when Mr. Upson barricaded his path. 

“I know.” Mr, Upson blocked him and placed his hands on Billy’s shoulders. “But just don’t.” 

Billy tried to break free from his hold and move around him. 

“You have no idea what you are up against. If you sit down, I’ll do my best to explain it to you. Just sit down.”

Amaryllis gently placed her hand on his arm. This time when she touched him, it was feather-light. He could've missed it. It was her hesitancy that made his attention drift only slightly from the man.

“Billy, he isn’t being charged for what he did last night.” Amaryllis’ hand left his forearm entirely. “Maybe it’s just an assumption, but I don’t believe he’d be held responsible for anything he does in broad daylight either.”

Mr. Upson had his hands on Billy’s shoulders and stood in front of him, blocking his view of the man who almost took the one good thing Billy had found. 

“She’s right. Don’t.” Mr. Upson gave a pleading smile and shook his head. “Unless you want to die.”

Breathing deeply through his nose, Billy’s tortured gaze landed on the monster across the hall again. It took every fiber of his being to collect himself enough to back away.

He shook his head in disbelief. He had to just sit down while the man who shot his friend had no consequences for shooting two kids. His fingernails dug into his palms from how tightly he clenched his fists.

“I don't know the shooter,” Upson’s voice was soft and calm. “But the gent he's sitting down with is a man by the name of Hennessy.”

Billy’s fury flared again. He was having brunch and laughing. 

“He's a well-known circuit judge. He's also a prominent member of the Santa Fe ring.” 

Billy furrowed his eyebrows in frustration. “What the hell is that?”

“Well, the rings run most things out here. In the West, Billy, they are secret societies of wealthy people. The Santa Fe ring is the oldest and most powerful ring of them all. Which is why I'm here.” 

His grip on his emotions slowly returned to him and he had to consciously bring his breathing back to normal. This was a Herculean task considering every time Billy looked at the man, his fury returned.

“I'm investigating the whole damn system; the wholesale corruption, the cronyism, the lawlessness.”

A country that supports nothing but the continuation of violence.

These people…” Upson lowered his voice by a degree more. “They buy senators. They buy sheriffs. They buy judges. They buy anyone they damn well please. They get rid of people who stand in their way.”

Billy mulled the words over in his head, finally understanding as the fog cleared. “So you think this guy is a member of the… ‘the ring’?”  

“Either that or they protect him for whatever reason. 

“Well, if people know about these ‘rings’, why don't they just step in and break ‘em up?”

“Corruption corrupts,” Amaryllis explained with disappointment for him on her pale face. “One bad seed kills the garden. The people who have the power to stop them have looked the other way since the very inception of this country.” 

Upson agrees with an affirmative shake of his head. “Because these rings go all the way to the top, that's why.”

“I just want justice for my friend,” Billy gritted out. 

“I understand.” And Billy could tell he truly did.

Mr. Upson seemed incredibly adept at promoting calm.

“But justice-- true justice, Billy? Doesn't usually come out of the barrel of a gun.”

Clearing his throat, Upson raised his voice and stretched back in his chair. Mr. Upson was relaxing great at de-escalating, considering that Billy was no longer foaming at the mouth with rage.

“We have to expose the evil and clean up the system.”

“And how long do you suppose that will take, Mr. Upson?”

Billy already knew he didn’t love the answer. “I don't know. Years? Possibly longer. But I know it's the only way.”

Hardening his gaze, he glared at the racist demon across the dining hall. Feeling resigned and like he failed Carlos, he loosened his tensed muscles in disappointment.

“I don't know if I can wait that long.”

[quillkiller]

🤍 anon here. saw ur post about lesbian effiemonty. im obsessed. i need to know; how does all of this affect james and his relationship with queerness? I feel like growing up with parents who are "not like the other queers" could really affect him, especially since his entire friendgroup is queer and express it in different ways and some of his friends ARE "the other queers" and are walking stereotypes of queer people.

im obsessed with you…

so!! my james potter is bisexual but heavily leaning towards women.. 🤍 i also love him being raised by lesbian effiemonty because i just know for a fact that he’d genuinely be a feminist (<- does NOT mean i think women he knows or meets should trust him more than other women. but what i love about him is that he Also knows this). i have a dyke friend with two brothers that she basically raised and they’re literally the only men i dare to almost say i trust. one of her brothers used to date a bisexual girl and then broke up with her because he genuinely felt like she woule be happier dating women/was dating him for comp-het reasons. which turned out to be true and they’re still friends!!!! her other brother was at a party once and said yes when a girl asked if he was a feminist. the girl then continued to flirt with him and said things like ’there’s nothing sexier than feminist men’ and he was TURNED OFF because he wanted BETTER for her. so he politely said he wasn’t interested lmao. both her brothers know that they’re doomed to always date feminist bisexual women and will always feel just a little bit guilty about it because they believe queer women would be happier dating other women. they’re so funny to me. <- that’s how i see james potter being raised by lesbian effiemonty

and the whole ’not like other queers’ is really interesting to me, because like. society is always evolving and changing and i think effiemonty considers that something very beautiful. and that they’re very openminded about it. they’re very on-paper lesbians, stereotypical and super dykey. whereas several of james’ friends are a lot of different flavors of queer. some of them being lesbians, some of them being gay, some being bi, some being nonbinary, trans women or trans men, etc etc etc. i think effiemonty thinks that’s a very beautiful thing, that james has a group of friends where they can openly queer and openly explore and not have to ’hide’ in the same way they had to do in the 80s. their son has a safe space to explore his. own identity, and he goes through a lot of silly phases, and it’s a very sweet and lovely journey that effiemonty are very supportive of <- which is very important to me because some or james’ friends don’t have that kind or support system in their own homes

i imagine that the potter home becomes a safe space for a lot of young people, people that james’ knows. and it also adds a lot to when sirius is disowned, because then maybe he’d also be disowned because he’s gay. and lesbian effiemonty obviously take him in without question. PRECIOUS to me. sirius losing his parents and gaining two lesbian moms …….,,,,,

i rememeber growing up in a small town and i was genuinely the only gay person that i knew of when i started ’high school’. i was the only other gay person i knew of until i reached adulthood, but when my sister who’s three years younger than me started high school there were several queer people in her class. society changes and evolves !!!!!! in just 3 years sometimes !!!!!!!!! i was so so so alone growing up, turning to the internet and having a long distance relationship on tumblr and MOVING COUNTRIES for her as soon as i graduated. i dont regret any of it, but i was miserable and lonely and in therapy and distancing myself from friends and family for the (lovely) community i had online. those two things couldnt co-exist when i was a teenager in a small town and now they can. for a lot of people. and i think it’s very beautiful that people have a safe space to explore. and i think lesbian effiemonty would think so too. they’d probably not understand everything and be confused a lot, but i don’t think they’d ever rob a young queer person of their exploration of identity. and i think a lot of james’ friends would feel comfortable seeking their support… 🤍

[chilapis]

HI lapis !! what kind of person is tartaglia when youre working on things .. does he make an effort to show he wants ur attention , or wait patiently while you sit together as you work? - @dmclr

Clara, my dearest friend, sweeter than the freshest fruit, and softer than the finest silk. Please understand that I owe you my life. Have you been taking care of yourself? Hydrating? Stretching? Resting up okay?

I have this admittedly extremely unhealthy habit of, absolutely losing myself in my work? My work is my number one priority; though I imagine he could challenge that with, no difficulty whatsoever really.

He’d definitely make an effort to have my attention fixated back on him on busier weeks I think. Not only to grant me a break from my tendency to overwork myself but also because he just likes the attention, point blank.

The attempts are far from futile or extensive though because he knows I listen to him. I can sigh and complain about him distracting me as I wish, but he knows it’s all just a facade. Guy who whines like a neglected pup if you don’t pay attention to him and his wife who pretends to just barely tolerate it but surrenders before the second plea.

I do have a habit of isolating myself when flooded with work however, especially if there are deadlines closing in on me so, although no such modern technology exists in Genshin, if it did I feel like this message would… describe us perfectly.

He sends dozens of similar messages just checking in on me. Just… hi babe ❤️ i know for a fact you haven’t eaten since yesterday ❤️ let’s go out to your favourite restaurant ❤️ i already made the reservations ❤️ I’m on my fucking knees please sweetheart you’re going to die at this rate ❤️

As for just sitting together; I imagine he’d try to help with my paperwork sometimes if he’s free with his own workload… especially if I’m stressed and looking through precedents on a certain law or point. OR if I have to speak at the podium and I’m stressing out. Just walking into my office, asking me what I’m doing, and letting me rant to him about the case at hand and the relevant laws… sigh. 💍

I’m not sure him just being there, patient and supportive, would be any less distracting though. I get very affectionate when tired and I feel he’d be appropriately well-acquainted with the fact. Girl who keeps complaining about how much work she has to do but she hasn’t touched her paperwork in half an hour because she keeps playing with the collar of your shirt. <- he’d absolutely catch on, and then be a prick about it.

Especially if I’m working late at night? If he enters my office and wraps his arms around me while I’m drowning in paperwork, sleep-deprived and exhausted? He whispers in my ears that he misses me?

I’m done for. I’m doomed. Murdered, cold blooded, malicious murder. He has won not just the battle but the war. Every war. Acting in full consideration of the facts I have decided to retire to bed, hand in his, intending to vanish from public view for the next 15 businessdays. Absolutely the only circumstances under which I’d be willing to take a break. Not even the legal system could stop me. If I don’t wake up for timely arrival to the courtroom my client can fight their own case I simply do not care. I’m dead. Gone.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

**Cultivating Love**58**

**The problem with divine peaches after having your divine peach plundered and now your fiancé wants to go on a trip to his home clan** prt 3**

A second physicians visit and only echoed what Lance had been by the palace physician and firmly supported his belief that medicine within the cultivation realm needed an overhaul. Nausea, lack of appetite, stomach cramping, and increased sensitivities were common symptoms of a number of things. Not that he was with child. Keith had laughed so hard that Lange had smacked him for it. Such a ridiculous notion would have spread through the whole clan quickly if they had not had privacy. A small house hidden behind thick camellia shrubs, whose delicate scent soothed his agitation. He did not understand the Black Wolf Clan. Not in the slightest. Whispers followed his little family around, many a wife eyeing Keith as a suitable mate for their daughter, whilst giving him the cold shoulder.

Nipping at his bare shoulder, Keith was insatiable. Having done it enough that he was pestered, not flattered, by Keith’s attentions. Each time they’d met someone knew Keith had made sure to introduce him as his “fiancé Lance”, though with how often they’d done it, Lance was sure that people didn’t need a disclaimer when he was so soaked in Keith’s scent. His mate failing at reading the mood as Lance sipped his tea and mentally rewrote how he intended to write up the clan physician over his wrong prognosis

“No more. Behave yourself or I will have to be cross”

“I cannot keep my hands off of you… You do not need to be so mad”

“I do when your village lacks basic health services. Were you listening to his words? I wanted to hit him. You don’t need to do anything to encourage him either”

“Maybe I like it when you’re cranky with me?”

Keith said it as if it were a good thing. Lance had thought his temper would return to normal after expelling all the demonic energy from his body. Instead he was still short tempered, easily annoyed, and cranky at himself for it. He felt completely out of place, not a wolf and not an outsider either, but a little of both at the same time. He’d allowed Keith to pack for him and was now finding that Keith had packed all of his best clothes, leaving him further to stand out and almost yell that he was clueless. On top of the fact he’d insulted their hosts. Wolves were very proud and any offers of help were a deep insult. He didn’t know how not to offer his help. Not when the clan seemed to be doing well and he wanted to show his gratitude in some way for the use of the little house when he couldn’t offer actual assistance.

Sighing heavily, Lance threw his head back to smack Keith in the nose, not hard enough to make it bleed yet hard enough to stop him nosing his neck

“Don’t. I mean, I don’t want to be cranky at you so do not tempt me. If I’m acting out it could mean that I am not as clean of corruption as I believe myself to be. Though right now, little Keith is to blame. What kind of a wolf attacks a man once he’s done cleaning himself up?”

Determined to continue his clingness, Lance gave up on Keith giving him space as his mate slipped his arms around him

“I’m sorry. I know you’re ill, but you’re also incredibly attractive when you walk around half dressed”

“Oh, so otherwise I’m not?”

“No! I mean, you are. I’ll try contain myself more”

“That’d be appreciated. I still haven’t gotten the feel of the tribe and I doubt Kang will be happy that I was unavailable due to illness”

“Who cares about him?”

“Me. At least until he agrees to the proposal laid forth. Compared to how things were, I’m missing the demon realm. Not the fighting for my life thing, but the lack of paperwork. I would murder for an actually relaxing holiday with you and little Shiro”

“We could ignore the wishes of the other masters?”

Lance chuckled at the thought before thinking of the paperwork and wrinkling his nose. He was being too impatient with Keith. Not ever touch meant sex, even if Keith was acting in a manner he would call sexual, his poor wolf was probably projecting his past fears onto Lance the only way he knew how

“They’ll only keep adding to it. I’m sorry for being in a mood. I know you’re all over the place returning here, and I know the masters shouldn’t have added work, even if we had our own reasons to accept. I want to be accepted here, as your mate and as a fox. To be honest, I am struggling. I think that’s part of it all. I’m overdressed, anxious, ill and cranky… and you come along solving all my troubles with kisses, but what do I do for you?”

“You’re here with me”

“Shiro could have been here with you too. Two years a captive, they’re all thinking it, and that my freedom came at the cost of him”

Lance had been too honest. Wishing he could return the words to his mouth as soon as they’d slipped out. Despite being comfortably sat in the edge of the veranda, Keith hefted him back into his lap and buried his face against Lance’s shoulder. Lance proud to have not spilt his tea, which would only have made it all more awkward and added to his embarrassment

“I’m sorry I’m not him either… yet I am glad you’re here. I’m sorry that you worry about what they think, you worry so much about me and all I was thinking about was showing you off”

“No, I shouldn’t have said what I said. I mean, I miss him… I’ve been ill, yet if he were here, he would haven’t been. I don’t want to do anything that embarrasses you”

“You don’t embarrass me. Embarrassing was the first time you kissed Shiro, not getting a little sick while we were walking”

Lance closed his eyes. Keith was terrible at picking the right words to comfort him. Especially at the memory of that kiss

“You aren’t supposed to still remember that”

“How could I forget? You charged off on the battlefield trying to get yourself killed so you would not have to face Shiro again”

“What do you expect? You were there. I kissed him and zapped him at the same time. I made his fringe stand on end. I’m not sure who was more shocked”

“Shiro. His hair said as much. It’s a cute memory”

“It’s cute if you don’t go into the details. Besides, he was exhausted and worried for you and then suddenly I was kissing him”

“And the second you left I had to stop him charging right after you to ask you out”

Lance opened his eyes. He’d heard the story enough times he could relay it from the three perspectives

“If you hadn’t gone and got caught up in your own flames, we wouldn’t have been so worried. You singed your own hair. I thought for sure you’d be badly burned”

“And I thought for sure that you wouldn’t wish for two wolves as mates. Shiro worried for you so much”

“And you. He picked two hard mates with frightful powers. I thought him the most beautiful graceful master to have ever existed. We were all so jealous of how pretty he was and that everyone else had Iverson”

“And what did you think after you kissed him?”

“That I couldn’t believe I’d made such a mistake. You and Shiro were so beautiful and I felt so foolish worrying… and I was so sure that Shiro would hate me. He pretended not to know me because I treated you so poorly in the past. I don’t blame him. I was horrible”

Reaching up, Keith took the tea cup from Lance’s hand, setting it next to them both, before taking Lance’s hand in his

“Not on that battlefield you weren’t. Nor the one before it, or the one before that, and so on. I was mad at you for joining the Emperor’s army, sure that you had done it to continue pestering me. Then I saw how much you cared. How much you put into each fight. I was so confused that Shiro laughed and told me I had feelings for you. We only took a dozen battles to be on the same page and a dozen more to share our first kiss. It was because of you that I confessed to Shiro I felt confused because I felt like that with him and you. Then you kissed him and it clicked that maybe we could be together as a trio. He was so conflicted too”

“I think Shiro was conflicted to the very end”

Keith interlaced their fingers, bringing Lance’s hand up to kiss the back of it

“Why do you say that? He did make his choice”

“He did and he regretted it. That night never healed for any of us. He was afraid and ashamed of his own failings, and then everything started changing so he dug his heals in to stop it and it all fell apart. I thought to myself at least a hundred times that I would not love him again. Even his sincere apology and making love to him… I love and hate him and I miss him. By heavens I miss him. I miss him. I miss talking to him. When he would lay with his head in my lap and ask my day. Or he would get excited when I learned something and shared it. We went from master and student to lovers to master and student over and over. My memories started coming back too. And at the palace it’s so comforting but it’s also not. Why did he not love me right?”

As Lance started crying, Keith turned him, folding him in his lap so his legs were over Keith’s and his side to Keith’s chest. The hand he’d interlaced their fingers with now kept his hand to his stomach while Keith’s other hand cupped his cheek as Keith started rocking him, nuzzling and kissing Lance’s hair line

“I miss him too. He was so damn proud. Too proud. I can’t forgive him much either and I do at the same time. I hate all the unsaid and I swear sometimes I will hear him call my name. I want the anger to leave. I want to go back to before Adam was reborn and you were injured, yet I knew before I left that wanted to marry you, and I swear upon the heavens that my four months apart were spent making sure that my heart and my head aligned. You were special to him. He would talk on and on about you when we would leave. Sometimes I was indeed very jealous”

“See. It is my fault. Had I never been wounded…”

Keith shushed him gently and cut him off

“No. You are brave. You always do the right thing in your heart and you tolerated things for so long. I was too complacent. Me. I took you waiting at home for our return for granted. And I drugged Shiro so I might not have to see him until I saw you. I robbed you of those months we could have had to fix things”

“But I had never left…”

“Nothing would have changed. You were so very ill. I’m trying not to let that cloud my worry now but I am. You’re a brave little thing”

Lance snorted wetly. Shiro loved to tell him he was. He really could have used a hug from Shiro… and less talk about the embarrassment of his first kiss with Shiro out of sheer relief that Shiro and Keith were both okay. They’d all kept up such a facade, expected by them, at the palace yet he’d gotten to know them for real away from it and he’d fallen head over heels before his heart knew what was happening. Shiro had… Shiro had been so dazzling that Lance had kissed him, then too dazzling to talk to until Shiro tracked him down to return the kiss

“I’m a crying mess. No general sobs like a baby”

“No general still has a kind heart in the face of all we see”

“You’re being too kind. I really am sick of myself being up and down”

“You’ll figure it out. Are you still craving divine peaches?”

Sniffling valiantly, Lance nodded

“Yes. Though I know we have none left”

“No, but if we leave here and head for the royal palace we can get our hands on some”

“We can’t do that. You haven’t shown me your childhood home and I need to pay my respects to your father”

“We can do that today and leave this night”

“But the masters…”

“Can’t tell us off if they cannot find us”

“And Kang? Our plans for the clan?”

“Mean nothing if my mate is worrying himself because of me. I think you should listen to what your body is telling you. If it’s telling you to eat peaches, we’ll go get peaches”

“And if it’s telling me that I love you?”

“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to take you to bed and mark my beautiful fiancé until the whole village knows exactly what we do alone. You know, the demon king tournament will be approaching soon. What do you say we turn it into an extended holiday? Krolia would love to see you too”

Lance sighed, Keith was far too tempting with his sweet words

“We can’t. I’m not riding across the realm because I am ill. You won’t lead me astray, oh great fiancé of mine. We must stay and deal with Kang”

“Then I want a promise in return”

“What?”

“I get one wish once we are done with Kang. One wish to spend how I please without you telling me off. The old man makes me miserable and in return I won’t set him on fire. But only if you agree”

“You said you would behave as it was”

“Then consider this a reminder. If I’m a good cultivator and don’t lose my temper, you will grant me one wish, otherwise I do not know what I may do”

Lance knew Keith would wish to go to the royal palace for peaches. That’s who he was. Lance would need to remind of the terms of this wish when Keith came to making good on it

“You can have one wish. But that wish must be utterly selfish and no one expect for you may benefit from it”

“I can live with that”

“Then you have a deal. But that doesn’t get you out of showing me your childhood home”

“Oh, we’re going tonight. I’ve got a surprise for you and you can only see it at night”

*

Following Keith through the village at night, Lance worried for little Shiro. Their son bundled in a blanket to keep him warm in the cold night air. In the dead of the night Lance felt like a thief. As if they were doing something very wrong, yet with the promise of seeing Keith’s childhood home, he’d not raised protest with their excursion.

Towards the back of the village we’re sharp cliffs, a path barely wide enough for a horse the only indication something lay beyond. Keith keeping a slow pace for him, a ball of flame within his right palm to light the way, and his left hand hovering to help Lance keep his steps. Even a small fall would result in injury, he’d scraped his wrist carelessly in protection of little Shiro as it was, and the same damn illness that had plagued him sat low in his stomach as if he’d swallowed a fistful of nettles. He knew Keith had lived in isolation, yet he hadn’t thought isolation would be this… isolated.

Continuing through the narrow pass, Keith stopped as the sharp walls gave way to inky darkness

“Hold on a moment. I need to find it”

Biting his lip, Lance squatted down, making as if he was fussing over their little boy. Anything to shift the pain in his stomach. Turning the light away, Keith felt along the rock wall, needing a few very long moments before pulling something from a small crevice. Holding something over his flame, there was a small crackle and the scent of something burning, before Keith was turning back to him, smiling softly at the thing in his hand, then frowning at the look of him

“Lance?”

Drawing himself back up, Lance kept his face down and slightly turned away so that Keith couldn’t see his expression. The cramping would pass. It always did. And now Keith seemed excited

“I’m okay. What do you have there?”

“My father made this… it… the desert can be big and scary. So he made me this to lead me home”

Hiking little Shiro up, Lance looked over him to the pendant in Keith’s hand. He couldn’t see much in the dim light, only the soft green glow and shadows of the pendant

“What’s it doing here?”

“I left it here. When I left with Shiro the first time, I was sure he’d send me back. Everyone gave up so I left it here so I could get back home… Kang didn’t like me coming out here. Said I was insulting the good will of everyone else. No one knew what to do with me and…”

Keith was beginning to babble. Reaching out Lance placed his hand over the pendant. The magic there was weak, yet even with all this time, he could feel love lingering

“He loved you. You were a child and they failed you, not you them. I may be biased but I can tell a spell when I see one. He loved you very much. You should keep this treasure closer to you, because I feel he never wanted you to let it go”

Keith ducked his head, coming back up with a smile that made Lance feel blessed to see it

“Maybe this time I won’t leave it behind… You can’t really see it, but he carved a wolf’s head for me too… and there’s a K for Keith”

“He would have been so proud of you. I wish I could go in time and thank him for you. I wish that we could have spoken and that I could go back and hit my old self for all the wrongs I did”

“All those wrongs aren’t right, but I forgive you for those things in our past. They should stay there. And thank you, Lance. If you hadn’t given me another shot in the demon realm… well… it hasn’t been easy, but we made it eventually. It’s mating season for the desert rays so everyone stays away… I’m not saying this right, it’ll be easier to show you”

Keith hadn’t said it right, he’d made Lance’s brain hurt, yet it was alright with how cute Keith was acting in excitement

“You’d better not get us lost now you’ve found your treasure again”

“I won’t. Here, it’s a drop down to the next step, let me help you”

Making the mistake of letting his precious treasure too close to their son, Keith had to negotiate the return of the stone from little Shiro, now coated with the babe’s saliva. Lance had nearly lost his temper the moment little Shiro had put it in his mouth, instantly feeling ashamed he’d nearly yelled at the baby boy. Keith had laughed. Despite how precious the stone pendant was, his mate had laughed, then taken the stone back and reduced little Shiro to tears. Holding Keith’s arm, Lance had had to sing their baby back to sleep, not wanting little Shiro to cry too loudly when they were alone in an unknown environment.

With the levelness of the terrain, Lance would call, what Keith called a desert, a sand plain due to the lack of dunes. Silence sat between them with Lance unable to find the right words to prompt Keith to tell him more about his childhood. It was easy enough to imagine little Keith in the village stealing bread. He would have been such a handful, surely biting whoever would catch him, then kicking them in the shin before making a run for it. The children seemed to be treated well in the clan now, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t room for improvement.

Thinking too soon, they came to a steep slope. Keith extinguishing the ball of flame and bathing them in darkness just when Lance needed him not to. Stumbling, his mate plucked little Shiro from his arms before they could both fall

“I’ve got him. Take it slow, it’ll be worth it when you see it”

After all the walking they’d done, Lance sorely hoped so. He thought they were following the stone to Keith’s childhood home, not to slopes of doom

“Alright, but don’t blame me if I smack you when we got to the top”

“You won’t. We had to take a deviation, but I promise it’s worth it”

And it was. Reaching the top of the slope, before him was a swirling scene of browns and golds. When Keith had said desert rays, he’d thought they’d be small. Not massive creatures large enough to comfortably stand upon their backs. Rising and falling, they moved as if the air was water, swimming on unseen ripples

“They only get like this during mating season. Kang closes the pass to everyone, not that they come out here, and when he mentioned not to bother coming out I knew it must be the season. They’re big bastards, with a barb as big as you, but they don’t get angry if you don’t interrupt them. Pretty amazing isn’t it?”

Lance didn’t know rays like this still existed. They really were amazing

“I would expect something like this in the demon realm, not here. You never told me they were this big”

“I remembered them smaller”

“A bit like how you remembered the fish bigger?”

Keith groaned at him, Lance sliding his arm around him as he did

“I’m teasing, my love. Did you show this to Shiro when you two came?”

“No. He didn’t want to come out here at night…”

“He was probably smarter than we are. Shall we sit for a bit? They’re kind of magical to watch”

Keith huffed at him as if they didn’t have time to sit and rest

“I want to take you to the house”

Even if Keith didn’t need a break, Lance did. Sitting down, he kept his gaze on the scene below. The space must have been solely for breeding, and like birds they returned year after year. Something so pretty would have been lost forever if Zarkon had ever seen them

“Fool, if we’re going back down that slope, you can at least let me catch my breath. I think these rays are big enough to ride upon. You should have given me more warning”

“I’ve done that before. Ride them. It’s not a pleasant feeling”

Unable to tell if Keith was joking or not, Lance tugged on his robe. His mate finally sitting next to him

“I’ve been wracking my brain trying to ask you about your childhood on the walk out here and now I don’t know if you’re lying or not”

“I guess you’ll never know. I wanted you to see this. I think my father would bring me out to see them. Some of the wolves have had run ins with them before, and there used to be a trade network through here. The house isn’t too far from here. Shiro put a barrier over it, but I’m guessing it won’t be there anymore seeing he isn’t. It might not be much more than rubble by now”

“Or it could still stand. Either way, I’m honoured that you’d share this with me. This place is precious to you, even the clan. I know how poorly they treated you, yet I know how much you care. Tonight we’ll sleep there, then tomorrow we’ll go pay our respects to your father. I hope I make a good impression”

Keith leaned into him, kissing Lance’s shoulder before settling

“I’m sure you will. We have a lot to tell him… Little Shiro too”

“He’s bound to drool over everything. I’m sure he gets his drooling from you”

“I’ve never met a baby who drools as much”

“You’ve never met many babies. Should I take him back?”

“No. I find myself wanting to spend this moment with my family a little longer”

“Alright. Let the make the most of it. Who knows how many more moments we will have?”

Raising his head, Keith kissed Lance’s cheek

“A lifetime. And the next. The four of us will surely meet again”

There were three of them there. Did Keith mean he hoped for the reincarnation of his father? Lance questioning

“Four?”

“Or should I say five? That little one inside you. Shiro. Adam. You. Me. I think it would be a fine life to be together in the next life”

Groaning at the not so funny joke, there was no child within his belly

“Four, Keith. Four. And I see you’ve come round to introducing Shiro to Adam in this life”

“I know I would never convince you otherwise. Besides, I have to tease you as much as I can, my pregnant fiancé”

“Keep this up and I will take little Shiro and leave”

“Somehow I do not see that happened”

Keith was right. He wouldn’t up and leave with their son. Instead he cuddled into his mate, watching the show the desert rays were gifting them.

[harrywavycurly]

I WANT EDDIE ANGST

Hiii babes!! Ask and you shall revive also I’m sorry if this is shit😂🙈

“This isn’t working.” Eddie would regret the words as soon as they came out of his mouth, but deep down he knew it was how he truly felt.

“You don’t mean that do you?” Your voice would be barley above a whisper as Eddie just let out a huff as he walked past you and into the bedroom. “Tell me you don’t actually mean that Eddie.” You’d follow him and watch him just sit on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands.

“I don’t know.” He wouldn’t be able to look at you as the words come out of his mouth. “This,” he’d look up and drop his hands from his face and gesture between the two of you. “Shouldn’t be so much work should it?”

“So much work?” Eddie would watch your face drop as your bottom lip begins to tremble. “Relationships are hard sometimes.” You’d add as Eddie just sat on the edge of his bed looking down at his feet.

“I’m constantly having to fight for us,” You’d lean against his dresser for support as he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m tired of having to always prove myself worthy of being with you. That shits exhausting.” He’d stand up from the edge of the bed and run both hands through his hair.

“Then stop trying to prove yourself to anyone. You know I love you and don’t give a shit about what anyone else thinks.” Eddie would turn to look at you and the sight is enough to make him want to crumble into a million pieces, you’d given up trying to fight the tears as you felt like your whole world was moments away from crashing down around you.

“You say that,” Eddie would take a small step towards you. “But I know you’re tired of having to defend us to everyone.” You’d look away from him as you try to wipe the tears off your face but failing as more just take their place.

“Of course I’d love to not have to defend our relationship to everyone in this stupid small fucking town.” Eddie would take another step towards you as you let out a shaky breath. “But you’re worth it.” You’d look at Eddie as he reached one of his ring clad hands out for you to take.

“That’s the thing,” Eddie would bring your hand up to his lips so he could place a sweet kiss to your knuckles. “I’m not.” He’d add as he let go of your hand letting it fall back to your side. “You know the odds weren’t ever in our favor sweetheart.”

“Don’t fucking sweetheart me,” You’d watch as Eddie took a step backwards as his eyes became glossy letting you know that he was on the verge of loosing it himself. “I don’t understand why you’re saying all of this. Do you not love me anymore?” You’d watch him run a hand over his face out of frustration.

“Of course I fucking love you,” He’d let out a sigh as his hands rested on his hips. “I’m just tired of fighting. I’m tired of knowing you can do better than me and always having to try to prove why you should be with me instead of someone like…like…I don’t know…normal and shit!” You’d watch him look up towards his ceiling as he let out a shaky breath. “I’m…I’m not worthy of you at all. I’m being selfish keeping you for myself. You deserve to be with someone who can get you away from this shitty town and have a happy life.” He’d slowly look at you letting you see a few tears run down his face.

“You’re saying all of this as if I don’t have a choice.” You’d take a step closer to him making him instinctively take a step backwards. “I get a say in all of this you know that right? If I didn’t want to be with you I wouldn’t be.” Eddie would look down at your feet as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You’ve always been shit at making the right choices for yourself.” You’d feel your heart begin to shatter as he spoke. “So I’m making it easy for you.” Eddie would slowly look up at you as his arms dropped to his sides.

“Don’t do this.” You’d beg as you reached for his hands as you watched a few more tears slide down his cheeks. “You don’t have to do this Eddie.”

“We gave it our best shot.” He’d grab your hands and give them a hard squeeze. “I’m sorry.” With that he’d drop your hands and fall down onto his bed letting the tears stream down his face and put his head in his hands so you wouldn’t be able to see him fall apart.

You’d have to hold onto the wall as you turned and waked out of his room and down the hall to the front door of his trailer. You’d pause before opening the door hoping that he’d come running after you telling you it was all a mistake and he didn’t mean it. When that moment didn’t happen you’d just shake your head and take in a few deep breaths before opening the front door and leaving his trailer for what could possibly be the last time.😭🫠

EDDIE ASK NIGHT✨🦇

[tteokdoroki]

had it | k.bakugou.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 4.5K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, married!au, fluff, comfort.

♡ summary: your pro hero husband is a show off, always has and always will be... but when his big ego gets in the way of you doing your job, you give him little piece of your mind..

♡ warning(s): please read ! mentions of violence, i gave reader a quirk?? bakugou with a daughter ok literally nothing. oh and angst if you squint.

♡ author’s note(s):  hi besties!! happy birthday to meee!! today i’m dropping a fic that’s been a long time coming, its a short and fluffy little piece with domestic baku bc i love him with babies n kids ok ok!! i hope you all have a lovely day <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

some say that working for a pro hero is an honour, no matter what the position is. some may work behind the scenes— creating gear and suits that support the pros protecting their cities or livelihoods. others are in charge of things like reports, PR and even physical health. everyone plays an important role in a hero's career. there’s never a dull moment working in a team supporting the pros, especially if that pro was dynamight.

the offices for katsuki bakugou’s hero agency were always buzzing; usually because the clean up team were rushing through with stacks upon stacks of receipts and paperwork from the damage done during bakugou’s patrols— other times it would be his secretaries gossiping about how good he looks in his winter costume because damn did that tight black shirt do his arms justice but usually it was just because of the PR team contacting media outlets with excuses for bakugou’s potty mouth.

working for the hot headed blonde was more laid back than it seemed however, the man himself was rarely ever in the office as the number two hero but out on missions instead, the pay was pretty decent and no one ever really faced his angry wrath nor his sailor like mouth unless they had royally fucked up on their job. katsuki bakugou was someone to admire, he never gave a damn about what people had to say about him— he only cared about getting the job done and maybe that’s why most people enjoyed their time under the dynamight agency.

particularly this time, right around noon.

the doors to the floor of the secretary offices fly open, crashing loudly against the walls and drawing the staff from their daily work. this office space is around ten floors up and somehow you’ve made it in record time today. “where is he?” your voice crawls through the entrance of the room, settling over the workers like a thick fog— commanding, menacing and soft all at the same time. newbies cower in their boots, confused at what’s going on and it’s safe to presume those who have been working here for years have yet to give them the run down. “don’t make me ask again.” you add, eyes darkening as you cast your gaze across the room.

an intern approaches you, visibly shaking with fear which makes you loosen your stance and raise an eyebrow toward them. “he-uh... he just went for his lunch break—“ the stutter, gulping under the stare of another highly ranked pro hero. “in his...office— ma’am!” they stumble through their words, hiding behind the ungodly amount of paperwork that's been dumped into their hands. you make a mental note to chew bakugou out on the load his interns have been getting as well as your prior reasons for coming to his agency.

nonetheless you shake your head and drop the frown, a sweet smile quickly replacing the look that could put anyone six feet under if you really tried. with a tap to the side of your head, the visor to your hero costume rises above your eyes— allowing you to give the poor little intern a cheeky wink as thanks. “‘ppreciate it darling, have a good one!” you thank them properly with a ruffle to their hair, resuming your previous stance as you march the rest of the way through the office and kick open the door at the end of the room.

the intern sags, a whimper of relief passing from tired lips while they wipe at the sweat forming on their brow. they’d not even encountered their boss yet and they’d already come face to face with a top pro hero. “w-what’s her deal?”

a chuckle to the left of the poor kid startles them out of their mind; but they relax upon realising it’s just another one of dynamight’s secretaries— haruto, who’d apparently been working at the agency since it started up. “that’s nightsky, her quirk is lullaby, which allows her to control certain people if she hits the right note. she can also put them to sleep, if she really wants to,” the intern now perks up, remembering you from countless interviews on tv. you ranked pretty highly too, managing to the reach the top five this year along with others like shoto and deku. “she owns the hero agency across the street, herself and dynamight have been going at it ever since. it’s like they’re elderly lovers or somethin‘.”

“d-do you think they are? lovers like you say?” the intern asks a little too excitedly, touching at their messy hair from where you’d ruffled it. a crimson blush warms their cheeks, the idea of two pros playing enemies to the public eye but being lovers in secret seemed like something right out of a romance novel. how romantic.

haruto only chuckles at the newbie, standing to ruffle their hair as well before heading over to the coffee stand to fix himself a cup. “beats me,” he mumbles cheerily as he walks away, arms crossed behind his head. “but with the way yn bursts in here at the same time everyday to scold bakugou, and leaves with a huge smile on her face— i wouldn’t put it past them. they probably have a whole life together.” he taps his nose once as if he’s given away too much information, turning away without a word.

the intern hums, seemingly happy with their superior’s answer and easily heads back to work from there.

katsuki bakugou was bored out of his mind.

being a successful pro hero was all he’d ever wanted— being the number two pro hero just came with that. bakugou wanted to get to the top and show everyone he was the best of the best and with him being blessed with a powerful quirk there was no way he couldn’t be where he was today. yet, now that he’d finally achieved his dream all he wanted was a fucking break. the blonde stares down at his microwaveable bowl of home cooked stew, a frown cutting deep into his cheeks. it was his lunch break for crying out loud, but instead of scarfing down the delicious meal before him, the hero was forced to watch it cool as some dumb fuck reporter asked him questions over the phone.

the telephone interview ( or a waste of his fucking time, as katsuki had called it ) , had been set up by his PR team right after he’d taken down a couple low level villains downtown earlier this morning. katsuki had called it nothing but apparently the whole world and their mother had been on his ass, watching as he took the criminals down with ease and raving about how glorious dynamight was during that fight. the reporter drones on about said event, asking the same old questions and it takes everything within the hot headed pro not to blow a casket— he’d been promised a few extra days off from his manager if he could finish the interview without blowing something up and only god knew how much katsuki needed a break from dumb paps and some overly obsessive fans.

‘so, final question, how does it feel to be the number two?’

bakugou grunts, buying himself time to formulate an answer. what he really wants to do is kindly tell the reporter to fuck off and ask more original questions; but with the prize of a longer weekend hanging in the balance he bites his tongue for the sake of freedom. “well i—“

“katsuki bakugou.” your voice cuts through his sentence before he can finish, vermillion eyes land on your hero costume clad form as you burst into his office. a lazy smirk now decorates the hero’s lips, brow quirked with piqued interest. “i have a bone to pick with you, you motherfucker.”

the reporter on the other end falls silent as katsuki watches you, leaning back in his plush leather chair. you look slightly disheveled, costume torn in a few places, scrapes littering your skin as you pant heavily from exertion— chest rising and falling with every breath, it seems ragged and bakugou makes a mental note to remind you to get your ribs checked out later. “you’re late, shitty woman.” the number two sits up a little straighter as you enter the room, leaning up to look at you while you slam your hands down on the smooth marble desk— the force rattling the items he has neatly placed on it.

‘uh-? mister...dynamight-? sir?’

your eyes sweep the room while the pro before you deals with the reporter, mentioning to her that they’ll have to continue their call later. in the meantime, you note that katsuki’s office is meticulously clean, not a single book, folder or pen out of place— it’s high up with a perfect view of the city and the large windows allow golden beams of the sun to light up the room. the sound of a phone being placed back on its hook brings you from your thoughts; annoyance settling deep in your veins as you turn to face bakugou again.

“i had it,” you growl lowly, jumping the gun before he can even register what you’ve said. “i’m a grown woman, katsuki, i can handle a couple of criminals myself, you know.”

the blasting hero does nothing but smirk even wider at the irked tone that litters your voice, standing up as well to tower over you. bakugou still wears his own hero costume, considerably in less damage than yours— not a single tear had formed in his suit, mind the small scratches on his face no doubt from his stupid explosions creating some debris. leaning over the desk between you, bakugou uses a forefinger and thumb to tilt your head up, bringing you even closer than before. “clearly y’didn’t sweetheart, or otherwise that icyhot bastard wouldn’t have needed to back you up ‘fore i got there...” his timbre voice sends sparks of electricity through the air in the room, it’s low and gravelly which is enough to send shivers down your spine but you’re not about to let katsuki bakugou know that he makes you flustered— it’d go straight to his head, the cocky bastard.

nonetheless; you roll your eyes at the mention of your old classmate and fellow pro hero— shoto todoroki. yourself and shoto got along fairly well, even back in high school, so it was normal for you to work together from time to time; you both made a great team and your skill set complimented each other’s well. katsuki was just jealous. he never really got along with todoroki like that. “he didn’t back me up, we were working together,” you snap back at the blonde, shaking yourself from bakugou’s grasp and flicking him right between those alluring vermillion eyes. “something you might not be familiar with, mister number two.” bakugou backs away from you completely ( only wincing slightly ), making you smirk in victory. you’ve struck a nerve. deciding to leave the conversation at that, you turn to make your exit as he collapses back into his seat with a deathly scowl and a quiet ‘tch’. “like i said, i had it, dynamight. next time, don’t jump in uninvited.”

happy that you got the last laugh, you open the door to leave his office but pause when a wave of heat hits your back. you should have known, katsuki bakugou was never one to back down from a challenge and you certainly weren’t an exception. well shit. when you turn around to face the blonde, small explosions spark from his right hand and he has some what of a look of a feral pomeranian, blood red eyes full of rage.

you visibly gulp and katsuki growls out his next words with the upmost venom, designed to hurt and cut at your feelings. “well maybe y’sudda let the actual pros handle shit like this,” bakugou begins, voice rising in volume with every syllable that passes his lips. “we both know you’re no good at short distance attacks with your quirk, shitty woman, you couldn’t have taken those villains down without me.” the blonde finishes with a short ‘tsk’, settling the explosions that spark in his palms. now it’s your turn to be pissed. you could handle katsuki’s jealousy, his petty reasoning for joining you on your patrol and taking the credit but bashing you and your quirk? no way in hell would he get away with that.

“bakugou?”

“what? the fuck y’still here for?”

you roll your shoulders, gracing the blonde with a devilish smile as your eyes light up mischievously. “why are you hitting yourself, bakugou?” you sing, hitting just the right notes that will have him under your spell, the tone in your voice as smooth as chocolate. katsuki’s eyes widen in horror and before he can stop himself, his free hand comes up to slap him across the face. that was your quirk, lullaby. you had the ability to sing your way out of any situation— adjusting the tune of your song to control the actions of certain individuals or groups of people. it was near impossible to resist but the more people you used your quirk on, the weaker your control over them was. that doesn’t mean you weren’t going to use it on bakugou from time to time. the blonde tries to fight it, he really does, but he’s no use up against your ability— losing all control of his own body. he grunts on impact, looking bewildered for a moment as he moves to grab his own wrist to stop any impending blows. “not so cocky now, are we dynamight?”

“h-hey!” he stammers, refusing to accept defeat against you. “shitty woman, no fuckin’ fair. you know i can’t use my quirk against you in here.” he was right, while your quirk was poor against short distance attacks ( meaning you had to result to hand to hand combat ), bakugou couldn’t use his own in enclosed spaces without hurting anyone he didn’t want to. especially you, he would never hurt you intentionally unless you were sparring.

“shoulda thought about that before you decided to taunt me, you know better than to piss off your wife, katsu.” you chide, still smiling just as brightly as you were earlier, before taking a seat on his desk and folding one leg over the other. it was quite amusing to watch your husband of four years fight against himself— everyone knew katsuki had an unbelievable amount of strength even without his quirk so he was definitely beating himself up ( literally and figuratively ).

bakugou looks up at you through gritted teeth while he struggles to keep the wrist you have control of down and you almost feel bad for the guy. “turn it off, dammit!” he curses at you, said hand rising above his free one to tug at his own sun kissed locks.

feigning interest in the objects on your lover's desk, you ignore his pleas for you to release him from the holds of your quirk and hum “apologise.”

“f-fuck... fuck y-you.”

you sigh knowingly, picking up a hand crafted paperweight, covered in glitter and sequin stars,  inspecting it carefully. bakugou could hardly ever say the word ‘sorry’, it was just in his nature and he’d been that way since you were young. part of you knows it’s because of how he was treated as a child where people praised him for his quirk. that meant he became prideful yes, thought highly of himself too and struggled to admit when others were right...but he had his own way of apologising— through actions instead of words.

like when you first moved in together and he had broken your favourite mug, instead of saying he was sorry, he spent all night super glueing it back together for you to use in the morning. to him, actions were louder than words but you right now; you were being mean and just wanted to hear him say it.

“fuck fuck, fine. alright. ‘m sorry.” bakugou lets out a strained growl as the hand you control gives a particularly hard yank to his hair. “i’m sorry for lying about your quirk. it’s not shitty…’n ‘m sorry for... barging in on your patrol. again.” you grin, satisfied with his answer and grab the hand he keeps down with his wrist. you press a simple kiss to the skin, making your husband blush as you release your hold over the limb. katsuki shyly yanks it from your grip, rubbing over the area that you’d kissed, shooting his gaze to the side in the process. “jesus shitty woman, if i don’t die from being a hero or of old fucking age, i know for a fact you’ll be the one to kill me first.” he mutters harshly under his breath, but you know he’s only kidding from the way his hands now fall to your thighs and his fingers rub small circles into the exposed skin.

“pro hero nightsky murders number two pro hero dynamight in cold blood!” you joke as if you’re reading a headline in a news article, katsuki only glares up at you— making no effort to curse you out because of your shitty joke, which causes you to frown while leaning  forward to brush some of his hair away from his face. “you know i’m only kidding right? is something wrong? did i come at a bad time?”

it’s only now that you notice the exhausted expression that paints your lover’s face. he’s always up to playing this game with you, at the same time every day— you come to bother him about some trivial matter, tease him a bit and leave with a kiss. but today, you can tell he’s trying to hide something from you. something that bothers him.

bakugou shakes his head, leaning into your touch as you play with his hair— a habit he’d picked up from even before you started dating back in high school, although he’d never admit that to you if you’d asked. “nothin’, just this stupid fuckin’ interview the PR team want me to do about the fight today. the one i took from you,” your husband smirks slightly at the thought and you roll your eyes for what seems like the nine hundredth time that afternoon. “didn’t get to finish my fuckin’ lunch but they promised me a couple days off if i got the interview done.”

“better the number two than me, eh? but don’t worry, i’ll order us some take out tonight,” your suggest, voice coming out as soft and mingling with your slight giggle— a quiet melody to katsuki’s ears. your only reply from him is a grunt, so you stop your fingers in his hair and watch as he scowls up at you. you quickly press a kiss to the explosive hero’s lips, pulling away to reveal his blushing face. you smile, knowing that you’re the only one who can make him flush red like that. “there’s something else bothering you, isn’t there?”

if there’s one thing katsuki bakugou hates, it’s how you read him like an open book. one look at him and it’s like you know exactly how he’s feeling. he can never hide anything from you— sometimes that both pisses him off and reminds him of how much he is loved by you. he hesitates with his words at first but decides to confide in you anyway, knowing that you’ll get it out of him in one way or another. “‘m worried about you, dumbass.” he mumbles, nudging your hand with his head as if to ask you to continue your earlier actions. “i know you had it, yer fuckin’ powerful but you looked so tired in that fight today ‘n i thought something bad was gonna happen to you, y’fuckin’ shitty woman.”

he toys with the tears in your costume now, smoothing over scars from your bumps and scratches as a result of combat. “oh lovebug,” you mumble, cupping his cheeks to make him look up at you. “you know i can handle my own, they just took a lot out of me today. i promise i’ll—“

“that’s not it, fuck,” katsuki cuts you off, brows furrowing deeply as he grabs your wrists— pulling your from his desk and into his lap. he holds you close, burying his nose into your neck as if you’re going to disappear. you sit still, a little shocked by his actions and his quick change of mood, but wrap your arms around him anyway and slowly fall silent. “it's just that...we’re both pros now and at the top of our ranks ‘n we both have a lot to lose.” you instinctively cling tighter to katsuki, mind flickering to the homemade paperweight you’d spotted on his desk earlier... causing your heart clench.

your daughter had made that for him during her time at preschool for fathers day; something your husband cherished with his whole heart, even if the thing was still sticky with glue when he’d gotten it.

katsuki loved taiga more than anything in the world and if something had happened to her because of your line of work, you don’t know what either of you would do. “what if something were to happen to you? or to me? or shit...both of us? who would look after taiga? you know what happens to kids who end up in the fucking system.” bakugou pauses, the same tired expression from earlier now sitting heavily on his face. “i just want you to be careful, stop pushing yourself so much, y’fuckin’ dumbasss. we have a family take care of. it’s not just you and i anymore.”

you nod, grasping onto your lover’s clothes tightly. the air is flooded with a comfortable silence, the pair of you holding one another right the way through it. you treasure moments like this, where the world stops and katsuki shows you another, more vulnerable side to him.

he would never admit or show this to anyone; but he cares , more than he lets on... especially for you and especially for your daughter. he was attentive, paid attention to you and your weaknesses and helped you overcome them. it was something you couldn’t stop loving about him. “i promise to be more careful, for you and for taiga,” you say quietly after he’s done scolding you, brushing your lips against the side of his head in a soft peck. “that must’ve been why jumped in earlier, you were worried about me?”

“somethin’ like that, you crazy woman,,” bakugou whispers, there’s a tinge of fondness to his ruby eyes as you pull away to look at him, his hands settling on your hips while he moves up to press a soft kiss to your awaiting lips. “didn’t want you getting yourself killed.”

you stay with katsuki in the office for a little longer than usual, laying on his chest as he prattles away about everything and anything even though he should be working. you make sure he eats his lunch, despite how cold it is and promise him a boat load of take out when he comes home later— your sweet cuddling session only being cut short by a call from your assistant to tell you that your daughter is ready to be picked up from school. “better finish that interview katsu, taiga’ll be happy to know her daddy’s getting some time off to spend with her soon,” you remind him as you gather yourself together, your husband pouting ( he swears on his life he wasn’t ) from the loss of your warmth in his lap. “she has a lot to tell you.”

the blonde quirks a brow, watching you as you head for the door. “yeah? like what?” a hand comes up to cover your mouth as you giggle at his curious face. sometimes, when you look at katsuki, you could see how much your daughter resembles him, right down to his mannerisms. she had somehow inherited the shape of your nose and the brightness of your smile ( the only reason barely anyone realised bakugou had a kid, he never fucking smiled. ) but the bakugou genes were incredibly strong so there was no way she’d miss out on those crimson eyes and uncontrollable, untameable messy blonde hair.

she even acted like him. a very brazen little girl who knew what she wanted and how to get it, so she had her daddy wrapped around her stubby little fingers.

you grin, eyes sparkling with the same mischief as before. “oh y’know, just her little crush on midoriya’s boy.”

“yer fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

“i would never joke about such a thing,  just make sure you’re home in time for dinner, number two!” you squeal, dashing out of the office before your husband has time to demand more answers from you. slamming the door shut, you chuckle at the melody of curses that leave your husbands mouth before heading off to pick up your daughter.

on your way, you admit to yourself , that maybe you didn’t have this fight in the bag. but what you did have; was a loving husband, a beautiful daughter and the best life you could have ever imagined.

extended ending:

“so, taiga... daddy hears you have a little... crush on someone.”

you’re in the kitchen, washing the dishes from tonight’s dinner as bakugou wipes tentatively at your little girl’s messy face— she was a poor eater but it’s something you didn’t mind, not when your husband was so soft with cleaning her up. you can see them from where you stand, watching katsuki knowingly.

taiga looks up from the colouring you’d set out for her when she finished up her meal, crimson eyes shining brightly as she fixes her gaze on her father. “mhm mhm!! he’s mister deku’s son! and i’m gonna marry him!”

“no yer not.” bakugou answers simply, looking close to popping a vein.

“why not?”

your husband scoffs, throwing away the tissue he’d used to clean his little girl up before joining her in her colouring. “‘cause daddy says so ‘n boys are gross, especially ones who’s dad’s look like broccoli.” the older ash blonde seems satisfied with his answer, grinning to himself as you dry the dishes with an amused smile.

but taiga isn’t finished, swapping her green crayon for a red one to finish up her drawing. “but you’re a boy...and mommy still married you!”

bakugou pauses, lost for words as taiga continues to colour— humming the theme song from a commercial for some of deku’s merch. you can tell it’s taking everything katsuki’s got not to combust right there on the spot, but he can’t stay mad at taiga for too long, not when she’s describing her wedding and how her daddy is going to walk her down the isle.

setting the dishes to dry and towelling your hands; you smile to yourself as you admire your family. some would say you had it all, and looking at the pair of bakugou’s now, who were you to deny the truth.

[lubdubsworld]

⋆⋆✵ Perfect Imperfections ✵⋆⋆

Chapter 1

Genre : Arranged Marriage AU! Angst! Explicit Sexual Content.

Rating : 21+

Warnings : Ableism , Chronic disability. OC has limited use of her left leg, Emotional infidelity? Mild Cheating ( nothing very physical.. a kiss or so )

Summary : Marrying Jungkook is a mistake. Falling in love with him? Definitely the worst exercise in masochism .

~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2

No one tells you how easy it is to imagine yourself in love with a beautiful man. Especially when you don’t have a clear understanding of what love actually is. 

When I met Jungkook, even knowing he was in love with my sister hadn’t done much to douse the flames of hope and attraction. He was a lot of things that other men in my life weren’t. Kind without being pitying. Concerned without being overbearing. He took care of me without making me feel helpless. And there was always such a thin line between these things that I found myself impressed by his ability to toe the line so well.

Jungkook took care of me without making me feel like a burden and I suppose, some part of me had assumed that this could, in due time turn into love. But I was clearly wrong.

Jungkook and Liza had been kissing in the hallway of their hotel room and someone had taken pictures. My father and his had managed to get them taken down but the news was already out, spreading like wildfire . My phone began ringing sometime around eight in the morning and hadn’t stopped. It was now a little past one in the afternoon and I felt queasy, despite the assurances that it was all being taken care of.

It was the pity in everyone’s face that I couldn’t bear.

I wasn’t hurt. Angry, yes? Upset? Of course. But I wasn’t hurt because there really was nothing to be hurt about. Jungkook didn’t love me. He was in love with my sister . He had made it clear, through his words and his actions, over and over again. At this point, I could see this debacle as nothing more than a possible way to get out of the marriage. Perhaps, my father would approve of a divorce?

I glanced at the article again.

The photo is just so annoyingly clear, I thought with a grimace. If it was a little blurry, I could convince myself it wasn’t him and her. But it was clear. That was my husband with his lips locked with my sister’s. Against my better judgment, I read the article again. It was a gossip column, of course there would be nothing good in there. But sometimes curiosity can be a persistent thing.

I felt my skin crawling as I realized that the phrases were all pretty true. There was no gossip here. Just plain facts.

And then my eyes reached the end of the article.

Of note is the fact that Jeon Jungkook’s wife is disabled and perhaps the virile young man is merely looking for pleasure he can’t find in his own marital bed.

I swallowed, quickly exiting the page and tossing the phone on the bed, away from me. I stared out of the window of our bedroom, the large doors left open to let air and sunlight in. There was a tall sycamore tree right outside out bedroom and the branches almost reached in and I stared at the rustling leaves, trying to scrub my mind clean of the words I’d just read.

But it was impossible.

It wasn’t something I hadn’t thought of. The stark difference between me and Jungkook, physically. He spent five days a week in the gym and they were right. He was a young man with healthy sexual appetites.

I’d never cheat on you. Jungkook’s voice from a week ago still echoed somewhere inside my skull.

I sighed, playing with my wedding ring.

I wasn’t a virgin when I married Jungkook. Hadn’t been one , when I got into the accident either. My then boyfriend, a tall strapping lit major had been a very sexual guy as well and our libidos had matched pretty well. But I’d been an athletic nineteen year old, able to bend like a pretzel at his whim and there was just endless time and endless stamina and just a whole lot of attraction . We had spent hours, exploring each other the way college kids do. Weekends in bed spent trying every possible permutation of sex positions and kinks and I’d discovered all the things I liked. All the things I didn’t.

But then the accident had happened and well, when you’re in crippling agony, sometimes sex takes the backseat. I’d been focused on my recovery, on making sure that I came out of this at least with the ability to walk and I’d succeeded. Burying the part of me that craved a man’s touch, it wasn’t easy but it was necessary.

And then Jungkook had happened.

Sex with Jungkook hadn’t been difficult. Not really. I wasn’t completely crippled after all but it was also nowhere near as exciting as it could be with someone who had full use of her legs. I knew that. It was kind of obvious. But I hadn’t dwelt too much on it because to be honest, Jungkook hadn’t looked like he’d minded. He had seemed to enjoy himself .

But then reading about how he probably hadn’t enjoyed it definitely stung.

Worse yet, probably half the country was reading it with me. I felt nauseous. Did no one think that they should have left the last part out of that article? It was terrible enough without adding that bit about me.

A faint buzzing made me turn to the bed.

I glanced at my phone as it rang, my father in law’s name prominent on the screen.

Showtime, I thought with a grimace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I suppose it was too much to hope for , expecting that boy  to keep his dignity. This is outrageous.” Mr. Jeon’s loud voice rang through the foyer of the house and I flinched, gripping the edge of the futon as Sana jumped a bit . She sat next to me, holding my hand carefully. Moral support I supposed but I was feeling entirely too blasé about the whole thing. None of this was unexpected, I thought miserably and I wasn’t feeling up to pretending otherwise.

“I still wish they’d talked to me about this.”

My brother in law’s voice broke me out of my thoughts. The man looked like he’d been dragged through hell and back and I felt a pang of genuine sympathy. He looked wrecked and it was obvious she was in love with my sister. Resentment coiled thick and deep inside me. Resentment and envy.

With no effort at all she had charmed both the Jeon brothers, I thought bitterly.

Jeon Jihyun looked absolutely stricken at the thought of losing his wife.  

“I’ve asked Lisa to take the first flight out. She called me this morning, hysterical. It was something done in the heat of the moment. She .. She’s very apologetic. I believe her and I’m willing to forgive her. We’re…. We’re thinking of starting a family together. ” He said softly and my stomach turned.

I felt my skin go ice cold as I wrapped my arms around myself. Shivering just a bit, I lightly squeezed Sana’s hand. She looked at me in askance and I had to swallow to get my voice out, throat dry. The words made me want to retch. I could imagine how Jungkook would take this news.

“Can you get me my shawl? It’s in the green room.” I said hoarsely.  She bowed before moving away from me and when I looked back up, Jihyun’s gaze caught mine.

“This must be hard on you.” He said softly and I flushed, staring down at my knees.

“Not like I can run from it. Literally or figuratively.” I smiled without mirth.

“Jungkook is …he’s just confused. He needs some time to sort himself out. I’ve asked him to take a break and come back to Seoul after a couple of weeks. The separation would do him some good.” Jihyun said quietly and I sighed before nodding. What else was I supposed to say to that anyway? There wasn’t much I could do, my influence on things almost nonexistent at this point.

“Are you going to give the boy a break, Jeon?” My father demanded, staring at Jungkook’s father who sighed.

“Yes. I’ve been trying to get these damned reporters off our back. They’re all over the place. And yes, I think Jungkook should stay in Japan for a while.  We’re starting a new distribution branch there and I wanted him to scout places and possible vendors. I’ll tell him to hash out all the details before coming back.”

His phone rang again and he excused himself . I watched him leave the room, trying to make sense of his words.

How long would it take to build a whole branch in Japan? I had no clue. But it could hardly be done in a few weeks, could it?

“That’s.. That’s a long time.” I said hesitantly and my father frowned.

“is that a problem?” he asked.

I sighed. There was no point keeping this to myself. I was supposed to go to the doctor’s tomorrow. And well, it would be better if they heard it from me first.

“I.. I’m pregnant.” I said quietly.

The silence that followed was deafening. I stared at the carpet, not able to bring myself to look up at them. I could guess, what I’d find there. It was what I always found in people’s faces.

“Oh, sweet child.” My father’s sigh made me look up and there it was. The pity. I felt sick to my stomach. Sana returned, settling the hand knit shawl over my shoulders and I wrapped it tight, before glancing at her in some desperation. She smiled reassuringly, settling next to me and gently taking my fingers in hers. The warmth grounded me for a second and when Jihyun growled, I stared at him.

“I… I didn’t know. Fuck, I’m going to kill Jungkook. This fucker…” Jihyung swore and my father sighed, clearly thinking hard.

“you can’t be staying alone now.” He said softly, sitting up and cracking his knuckles, and I swallowed. I wouldn’t bear it if they tried to take me back home. I had hated it there.

“ You must come back home with me.” He said softly but I quickly shook my head.

“ No.. No I won’t. I … Please.” I begged, the mere idea of going back to my childhood home a nightmare. My mother would kill me with just her sharp and vindictive words. I was in no shape to put up with her verbal and emotional abuse. It was one of the things that had made me agree to marry Jungkook in the first place.

“Well, you can’t stay here by yourself.” My father protested. I’ve been by myself my whole damn life, I wanted to scream.

“I’ll be fine. I have Sana and the others to help me.” I said tiredly. My father shook his head before turning to Jihyun again.

“Is Namjoon still working on his book?” My father asked him and Jihyun frowned. The name elicited a tug in my memory and I turned to stare at my father, confused.

“You remember him? He used to tutor you when you were hi High School.”

I had a brief flashback to dimples and almond shaped eyes. I remembered him vaguely. Very vaguely. But nowhere well enough to want him to live with me, alone or not.  

“Dad…” I protested but he held a hand up to silence me, nodding at Jihyun .

“Namjoon? Kim Namjoon? ” He shook his head. “ I’m not sure. Why?”

“I think it would be good if he moves in here. His father was telling me that he was looking for a place to stay, now that he’s moved back to Korea. ” My father said softly, staring at me and I stiffened.

“Father…” I began desperately and my father shook his head.

“Don’t argue. He was a dear friend of yours. I don’t think you should be alone at a time like this. And I think Jungkook would approve. Like Jihyun said, the kid needs some space to sort himself out. Let him finish whatever business is going on in Japan.” My father glanced at Mr. Jeon who looked at me with guilt.

“I owe you an apology , on behalf of my idiot son.”

I looked away, not sure what to say to that. I hated the man quite passionately. Jungkook wasn’t perfect… far from it. But this man had taken a sledgehammer to my husband’s mind and heart at every turn. The disdain, the condescension, the sick way he favored his brother over him, the way nothing Jungkook did was ever good enough. It had all taken a toll on my husband. I had watched it chip away at Jungkook’s self confidence, at his mental health.

“I think more than anything, you owe an apology to your son. You knew he was in love with Lisa and yet…. You forced him to marry me.” I said quietly and the room went eerily quiet. My father rounded on me , eyes blazing.

“Leah!!! Apologize, now!” He roared and I looked away.

“You’re all the same. Ungrateful and entitled.” Mr. Jeon said sharply, before turning to his son. “ I’m leaving Jihyun-ah. Tell me when that wife of yours get home. I want to talk to her.”

He shared a half hug with my father before stalking off and my father grabbed his jacket as well.

“I’ll leave as well. Your mother is being quite hysterical. Apparently, all her friends are hounding her about the article.” He sighed and I nodded , watching him shrug on the jacket before nodding at Jihyun and then following his friend out to the front doors.

Jihyun stayed standing , watching my father’s form disappear through the door before turning to me.

“ Are you alright?” He said quietly, moving to kneel in front of me. Sana stood up, bowing before leaving and I watched her disappear into the hallway leading to the kitchens. Jihyun’s fingers wrapped around mine, brushing my knees and I stared down at him.

“The question is, are you alright?” I brushed the hair off his face. He sighed.

“No. No I’m not. I’m angry and jealous and very much filled with resentment towards my brother.” He said honestly and I laughed, tugging on his hand and patting the seat next to me. He straightened before moving to settle next to me and I leaned on his shoulders, sighing as he wrapped on around me, the warmth of his body comforting .

“Are you going to give your marriage a chance?” I asked carefully.

“She told me she was going to break things off for good. We.. We’ve been talking about it. Starting a family, making this work.” He said quietly. I nodded. It was understandable. Unlike Jungkook and I , Jihyun had a responsibility. He would need a son and even though people liked to act like they didn’t care much about gender, like they didn’t care much about having children , it was sort of an unspoken rule. First son of the house ? You had to have a male heir to carry the family name.

I wondered how that conversation had gone between Jungkook and Lisa. It didn’t really match the photo I’d seen.

“I suppose Jungkook probably put up a fight. He genuinely wants to end up with her. He… He tells me often that he loves her and can’t love anyone else. ” I wondered if I ought to feel embarrassed or insulted.

But the truth was, I was numb to a lot of things that had once hurt quite a lot..

The conversation with Jungkook about my pregnancy had definitely cleared things up for me. There was nothing there worth salvaging. Chasing something that wasn’t real , that was foolishness. Especially when I had a very real baby to think about. A child that counted on me to make the right choices.

“I don’t think he did. She spoke to me last night and said that he agreed. Of course that was before the article came out. I’d like to think she didn’t lie to me but I’m not sure.”

I sighed, settling in closer to his chest. He was warm and firm, solid and reliable. I wondered if it would have been easier, if my father had just married me off to Jihyun instead. Jihyun and I …we were alike. We had been friends , even from childhood. Had watched with fond adoration as our younger siblings had fallen madly, wildly in love. Jungkook and Liza had been drawn to each other from the first. Inevitable.

Jihyun and I were more carefree. We didn’t feel things that intensely and perhaps that was why we could sit here in the calm of the afternoon air, quiet and introspective when we ought to be furious and raging.

“ Should we run off together? You and i?” He said suddenly making me laugh.

“Very much incapable of running.” I reminded him with a grin and he squeezed my shoulder .

“I’d carry you.” He said simply.

“Where would we go?” I asked curiously, indulging the fantasy for just a few minutes.

“Somewhere far away. Maybe India? There’s so many people there and we could get lost in the crowds.”

“That does sound appealing.” I smiled and turned to look up at him. His face inches from mine, not as handsome as Jungkook but strong featured and kind. “ But I’m not alone anymore. I have a child.”

His gaze dipped to my lap.

“Yes. Jungkook’s child.” He said thoughtfully.

“No. Mine. Nobody else’s . Just mine.” I said quietly. Jihyun’s gaze softened. He pressed a quick kiss to the top of my head.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, echoing his father’s words.” On behalf of my idiot brother, I’m sorry.”

And where Mr. Jeon’s words hadn’t made any sort of impact, Jihyun’s made my heart clench and ache in the worst way. Self pity was something I loathed but sometimes, being handed the short end of the stick at every turn in life makes it impossible to not feel sorry for yourself.

Tears stung, welling up in my eyes and spilling over my lashes like water bubbling out of an aquifer.

I blinked slowly, not bothering to wipe them as they traced a path down my face, dripping into the fabric of my shawl. In a moment of clarity I wondered what Jungkook must be going through now. Nothing good for sure.

It definitely said something, that I still worried for him. Sighing, I let Jihyun hug me closer. I would take advantage of his kindness for a few more minutes. It had been a while since someone had held me like I mattered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I called Jungkook that evening.

It wasn’t an easy choice but my heart ached and my mind raced with unanswered questions. I didn’t want to get lost in my own thoughts so I didn’t overthink it. We were still married. I was allowed to call him.

He picked up on the third ring.

“Where are you?” I asked quietly and Jungkook’s groan made my face heat up a little.

“I… Leah?” He sounded groggy. I glanced at the time. It wasn’t late.

“Are you sleeping?”

He didn’t reply for a few minutes.

“I’m sorry about what happened. We.. We didn’t do anything else. It was just.. it was a kiss. Just that.”

“Are you still in the hotel?” I asked quietly ignoring his words.

“ For tonight, yes. Dad wants me to stay with a friend of his. I’ll be going over to their place tomorrow morning.” He replied .

Silence followed for a few seconds.

“Namjoon is moving in tomorrow.” I said stiffly.

Jungkook didn’t respond for a minute or so.

“Yes. Father said it’s a good idea. And I agree. You shouldn’t be alone while I’m here. He’s right. Hyung’s a nice guy. He’ll help you out.” Jungkook said softly.

“Liza came home. She wanted to talk to me.” I said quietly.

Jungkook didn’t reply and I sighed.

“I told her I wasn’t going to talk to her before I talked to you. I don’t… I don’t want to say anything to her that I haven’t already said before. But I still want to know your thoughts on all this. Your plans, that is. I take it you weren’t happy with her ending things.” I said stiltedly.

Jungkook didn’t reply for a few seconds.

“Things between us ended a long time ago, Leah. It was over when we both agreed to marry other people. Maybe even before that, I don’t know… I … I guess I just didn’t want to acknowledge them.” He said quietly. “ She’s different, now. Even that kiss felt so wrong.  She’s moving on. I’m glad in a way. She deserves better than me. She deserves someone like hyung. He’s better than me in everyway and-”

God I wanted to strangle him.

“So why did you kiss her?” I snapped. “ If you’re so generously letting her go why would you…” I stopped.

“I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me. It was barely for a second.” He muttered. “ whoever it was must’ve been videoing us for a while.”

I had to remind myself that in the grand scheme of things, this little detail made no difference.

“Right.” I sighed. “ So, you won’t be home for a while?”

“Six weeks at least.” He said quietly.

I tried to keep the disappointment down. I still wanted to see him, just to make sure he was okay. But I knew that was just the pregnancy hormones talking.

“Okay.” I said simply.

“How are you? Did you go see the doctor?” He asked softly and the question surprised me. I was half sure he had forgotten.

“No, not yet. Maybe in a couple of days.” I scratched at a small stain on my skirt. Lime juice and baking soda, I thought absently. That should get the stain out.  

“Its pretty late. You should go see the doctor, Leah. I.. I looked stuff up. They say you have to be on pre natal vitamins, folic acid and iron supplements  and you have to have  a balanced diet. I called Sana earlier and told her to speak to our doctor and get a diet chart for you. She said she’ll do it soon. So , please take care of yourself.”

Jungkook sounded entirely serious and as always my brain felt muddled, unable to process why he did the things he did. He had looked things up about the pregnancy and that implied some sort of interest, didn’t it? But ….. he had also kissed my sister so what was I supposed to do with this?

“I’ll call you.” I said shakily, drained. I was done for the day.

“Right.” He said softly. “ Namjoon hyung will be there tomorrow right? Should I talk to him? He could take you to the doctor.”

“No.. That’s fine. I’ll manage.” I said quickly.

“You’re sure?” There was genuine worry there.

“Yes.” I sighed.

“Alright.”

Silence again. I exhaled shakily.

“Should I hang up?” I asked quietly.

“Yeah. Good night. ” He breathed.

“Good night, Jungkook.”

Click.

I stared at the wall, gently lowering the phone and placing it on the bed next to me.

She deserves better than me, his voice echoed in my head.

Well, so did I.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Namjoon looked nothing like the twenty one year old college student I’d seen a decade ago. I knew he was a successful novelist and I’d read all his books. They were mostly philosophical or commentaries on life and emotions. I enjoyed the way he wrote : melancholic and deep but also clear and easy to understand. It was like staring at a particularly deep pool, being able to see all the way down to the bottom because of how clean the waters were. But once you put your feet in, the depth  always surprised you.

“That’s a lot of books.” I laughed, gripping the edge of the door frame as I watched him stumble under the weight of a crate full of bound books. Namjoon’s messy brown hair peeked over the top, and when he adjusted the huge load to stare at me, I caught sight of his handsome face stretched in a dimpled grin, eyes glinting.

“Research.” He grunted, straightening himself up and I watched the flex of his muscles as he carefully moved to place the crate down in one corner of the large bedroom that I’d had cleaned for him. It was on the west wing of the house, parallel to my own bedroom that I shared with Jungkook . Namjoon had spent three years working as a professor somewhere in Indonesia. And I knew that he’d spent a year backpacking all over Scandinavia. I stared at his tall strapping figure, watching him set up his writing space carefully, sorting out boxes and electronics.

He had driven here in his Range Rover and I knew all his clothes were still there in the back of the car.

“Should I ask the footmen to get your clothes?” I asked and he glanced up at me, frowning.

“Footmen?” He looked confused and I rolled my eyes.

“Namjoon…” I said chidingly and he grinned again.

“I keep forgetting you’re filthy rich. Makes me wish I should have beaten Jungkook to the game and bagged myself a rich wife.” He winked. It was a joke but there was no mistaking the hint of interest in his eye. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part. Being married to Jungkook had definitely made me question the attraction I held for men so it felt good, having someone as handsome and whole and successful as Namjoon look at me like that.

“I’ll ask them to get your clothes. You should shower and settle in. We’ll meet for dinner tonight.” I said quickly and he nodded.

“You’re going to be okay heading back to your room? Let me know if you need help.” He pointed at my feet and I nodded. It was sweet of him to offer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner was surprisingly not awkward at all. Namjoon had a lot of interesting stories to share and I found myself clinging to ever word in rapt attention. He spoke about all the folklore he’d run into in different places, how he thought that no matter the culture, there were always some common things you could find in every one of them. He also talked a little about his next book, which he hadn’t named yet.

“It’s about second chances. Forgiving and moving on.” He said, taking another bite of his braised pork and moving to make another lettuce wrap.

“ Heavy stuff.” I said thoughtfully. “ Most of my writing is commercial. I just try to sell stuff to reluctant people. It’s not much but it keeps me occupied and it’s always nice to make money that you can call your own.”

“It’s because you don’t write for yourself. When you start writing for yourself, you can truly be who you are.” He said firmly and I nodded in agreement.

My writing in college had been vivid and bright and filled with life. But after the accident, it had turned grey and gloomy. The words seemed to drip with loss and longing and  I didn’t enjoy it, because it was a reminder that I was no longer the vibrant, attractive fulsome girl I once was.

“Maybe that’s what I’m afraid of.” I smiled. “ Being who I am. I would rather pretend I’m at least a little alright.”

Namjoon stared at me, thoughtful.

“You used to run track.” He said softly and I grinned.

“You remember.” I said, pleased.

“Of course I do and you were captain of the volleyball team as well. You used to organize all those hikes and treks and stuff.”

“Yes I did. I loved the outdoors.” I stared out of the window.

“Loved? Past tense?” He tilted his head. I stared at him, shaking my head.

“What kind of question is that.” I shook my head. “ Look at me. I’m not trekking anytime soon, considering how the last time ended.”

“You can still go out.” He frowned. “ When was the last time you went somewhere?”

I shook my head.

“Oppa…”

“Listen. You know me. You’ve known me for more than a decade. Do you honestly think I’m going to let you rattle around this old house like a ghost when you should be out there taking in all the sunshine you can get?” Namjoon placed his chopsticks down and linked his fingers together, staring at me.

I stared at him, and it was definitely there. The concern, the affection. Not that different from when I was sixteen and struggling to understand what pathos meant.

But now there was a definite undercurrent of attraction. Back then it had been childish, the wild crush of a teenager on her hot tutor but now, now I knew that he was so much more than just a hot guy.

“I’m pregnant.” I said softly, more a reminder to myself than anything else.

Namjoon grinned.

“We’ll steer clear of horse riding and alcohol. Anything else you can just let me know.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“I think I’m getting one now.” I deadpanned.

“Because you’re nervous.” He grinned.

“Because your dimples look too adorable.” I retorted.

He laughed.

“I’ll talk to Jihyun and we’ll go see your doctor first. Then we’ll go out and have  a nice picnic.”

“Namjoon, I can’t…”

“You don’t know that.” He said firmly.” You don’t know if you can or can’t because you’ve never tried. Listen I love picnics and I love going out and I want company. I’m agreeing to be stuck with you for a while and the least you can do is  give me company at a picnic. You know how big a loser I’d seem like if I went by myself?”

It was like I was sixteen again getting brow beaten into things by a tutor who just hated the idea of not getting his way. I shook my head fondly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fourteen weeks. Three and a half months.

I stared at the ultrasound, feeling a multitude of things, not all of them good. The baby was growing well and I had all my prescriptions filled. Namjoon had offered to come with me but I had refused. It was too intimate and he was still a stranger. I did take a photo of the ultrasound and sent it to Jungkook.

/Jungkook called me back almost at once.

“You went to the doctor?” He asked, sounding a little breathless.

“Were you running?” I asked, surprised.

“Not really. I’m supposed to be meeting one of the vendors for lunch and I thought I could walk to the restaurant but its farther than I thought.” He huffed.

“Everything’s fine. Baby’s due in July.” I said quietly.

“Summer. That’s good.” He replied. “Right?”

I hesitated. What did that mean? What did it matter when the baby would be born?

“Because winter would mean it being too cold . Summer we can take the baby out and stuff without worrying too much.” Jungkook said softly.

Oh.

“How’s work?” I asked awkwardly. The non conversation was getting tedious. There was just so much to talk about and it was obvious that both of us weren’t in the mood to actually ask or answer anything worthwhile.

“Did dad say something?” Jungkook asked quickly and I frowned.

“No. Why?”

“He wants me to join hyung in the corporate office. Leave the smelter units.” Jungkook sounded subdued and upset and I felt sympathy well inside me.

“Join him? As what?” I asked quietly.

“Head of the marketing department. I’ll be reporting to Seokjin hyung.” Jungkook had clearly started walking again, breath coming in little exhales.

“You don’t want it?” I asked confused, not sure if this was a good or bad thing.

“I mean… I have a degree in Business and Finance. Hyung’s the CEO , I was hoping I’d be the CFO.” Jungkook sighed, “ But I suppose I should be grateful he didn’t disown me altogether after what happened earlier.”

I stayed quiet and so did he.

“We need to talk . When you get back. You … I know you don’t like sharing about what you feel but you owe me an explanation.” I said firmly.

“I know. But I meant what I said when I left. I’m going to be there for you and the baby. You’re still my wife. That’s not going to change.”

I ran my fingers over the ultrasound.

“Did you also mean the part where you said you can’t stand me.” I said bitterly .

Jungkook didn’t reply.

“I… You know I didn’t. That was just something I said on impulse. I’m sorry. You’re… You’ve been nothing but good to me. And honestly, just the fact that you’re carrying my child is proof that I can definitely stand you.” He sounded just a little hoarse.

I bit my lips, staring up at the door when I heard a knock.

“Leah? I’m going to have some tea in the garden … You wanna come with?” Namjoon’s voice rang through the room and I froze.

“Oh.. Oh.. yes. I’ll be down.” I said quickly, nodding . Namjoon pointed at the phone and gave to thumbs up before moving back out.

“Was that Namjoon hyung?” Jungkook’s voice came over the line.

“Oh… yeah. Yeah, he’s… he wants me to have tea with him in the gardens.” I said awkwardly.

“That’s nice.  You should go. Get out of the house once in a while.” I didn’t know what to say to that so I stayed quiet.

After another minute or so of silence, Jungkook cleared his throat.

“ I got that form you sent in for me to fill, about my medical history. I’ll fill it up and mail it to the doctor’s office. Is that alright?” He asked hesitantly. “ If not I can fly back home. If they need me in person or something.”

I frowned a bit.

“They don’t need you in person, Jungkook of course not. Mail it, that’s fine.”

Another pause.

“This is really happening huh? A baby. We’re having a baby.” The exhaustion in his voice was palpable and I wondered.

“Yes. We are.” I said simply, not having anything else to elaborate on. It was happening. I was torn between pleasure at having something to look forward to and guilt at forcing Jungkook into a role he wasn’t ready for. But , for better or for worse we were married. The child was his. It would be a Jeon.

“ I’ll do better.” He said quietly. “ With the little one. I’ll be better.”

Tears these days, sprung up out of nowhere I thought miserably, furiously swiping at my face.

“Leah?” His voice came over the line. “ Leah are you there?”

“I need to go.”

“Alright.”

“Take care of yourself too, Jungkook.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loneliness .

It’s such an odd sort of feeling. Sometimes you get used to it so much, that you forget all about it.

It stays , a part of you that doesn’t make much of an impression on you until one day, suddenly it becomes unbearable,

Until you get a glimpse of what it’s like to not be lonely.

And then suddenly it’s like a deep chasm of longing and desperation just opens up inside you, craving love and warmth and company with a hunger that feels like it can never ever be satisfied.

I’d never paid much mind to the fact that my life revolved around myself, my writing and the flowers in the garden. Not until Namjoon had come, demanding to be felt and seen and heard .

 Namjoon hadn’t joked about not letting me rattle around the house. Our days were spent sprawled on the lawns of the Jeon estate, each of us occupied with our own writing . Namjoon typed away on his laptop while I preferred my leather bound notebook. It was oddly soothing, lying there on the clean cut grass, the sharp blades rubbing against my bare legs, as I leaned back against a tree trunk, watching Namjoon’s furrowed brows as he wrote.

Namjoon had changed in a lot of ways and yet he was still somehow just as I remembered, focused and often lost in his own head. He was a contemplative man and seemed to spend as much time reading as he did writing.

“There’s a poetry club that meets every Tuesday in Gangnam. Would you like to come with me?” He asked casually, about a week after he’d moved in and I considered it. The paparazzi had finally stopped hanging about the estate and Jungkook had called the previous night with a ETA for when he would be back.

Four weeks at most, he had said firmly and I wasn’t sure if I was feeling all that excited for his return anymore. Days spent with Namjoon were more exciting. He included me in every little thing and I was addicted.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this was probably wrong. Namjoon was sweet and kind but I was still married. But on the wake of that thought came the bitter reminder that there was nothing between Jungkook and I. He was in love with someone else. Why should I deny myself the joy of Namjoon’s company over a relationship that really wasn’t a relationship at all.

Namjoon treated me as an equal, teased and flirted like there was nothing wrong with the two of us living like this, together and away from the rest of the world and I liked it. It made me feel like perhaps happiness wasn’t such an abstract, unreachable thing after all. That perhaps I could find happiness like this. In friendship and mindless conversation with a man who didn’t see me as a burden.

“I’d love that.” I said with a smile, letting my fingers knit together with his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Scorned wife getting even? We spotted the recently cheated on Mrs Jeon getting cozy with a strapping, buff hottie in a private restaurant last Friday and we can’t help but wonder if perhaps the reclusive lady is trying to get back at her husband by flashing her own boytoy.” Namjoon read cheerfully from his phone, looking way too entertained as he showed me the zoomed photo of us holding hands over the dinner table .

“That’s quite the description they’ve put for you.” I grimaced, sipping my chamomile tea slowly. My father and Mr. Jeon had reacted with their usual anger, threatening to sue the gossip rag for libel but it was pointless. They would keep being intrusive rats. There was nothing much to be done beyond enduring them.

“My agent’s losing his mind. He’s been at me trying to get me to agree to book signings and public appearances and he’s pissed that this is the way I get introduced to Seoul’s High society. Poor guy.” Namjoon chuckled and I felt guilt churn.

“I’m sorry, Namjoon. I really didn’t think they’d be following me. I mean… usually they’re only tailing Jungkook but I guess with the whole thing with Lisa , they’re just looking for ways to make things worse.” I said hesitantly.

Namjoon hesitated, staring at me for a few seconds.

“We never really talked about how things are.” He said quietly. “ Between you and Jungkook, that is.”

I ran the edge of my chopsticks on the brim of my soup bowl.

“ There’s not much to say. He’s…. He’s still sorting things out. With my sister.” I smiled a little. It ached a lot less, I realized with surprise.

“They loved each other deeply.” Namjoon said softly. “ that sort of thing doesn’t go away that quickly.”

I nodded.

“Of course. And I’ve been …understanding of that. I like to think.”

“But its unfair to you. You deserve to be loved too. Fully and well .”

I leaned back to stare at him.

“Are you offering?” I laughed, teasing.

Namjoon didn’t smile, leaning forward instead.

“Depends. Will you ever consider leaving him, for me?” He said seriously.

My heart turned over inside me.

“Namjoon…” I choked out and he reached out and lightly touched my palm.

“I know how marriages work with people like you, so I think I should draw boundaries now, if I want to keep myself safe.” He smiled a bit.

“I’m pregnant. With his child.” I swallowed and Namjoon’s brows went up.

“I thought it was your child. Yours and no one else’s.”

I felt torn, staring at him and wanting to say that I didn’t consider Jungkook as the child’s father, not in the way most people did. But I also remembered my husbands determined voice, the way he kept insisting that he wouldn’t neglect the child.

“Its not about Jungkook or the child, Leah. Its about you. You married Jungkook knowing he was in love with your sister and that tells me that you listen to your parents. You don’t want to stand up against the rules set by our parents and I don’t fault you for it. But I can’t let myself fall for you, knowing you’re going to be bound by your obligations to yurr family.”

I shook my head.

“Don’t fall in love with me.” I said easily. “ You’re right. My family comes first. And whether I want to be or not, I’m bound to Jungkook for life. So don’t fall in love with me.”

He smiled and nodded.

“Alright then.”

“Do you want to move out?” I asked bitterly and he looked genuinely surprised.

“What?”

“You clearly think I’m trying to seduce you or something when really, I-“

“Hey. Hey, Leah…no. No alright, that’s not what I meant. These two weeks, it was amazing. I love your mind and you’re easily one of my favorite people on this planet. We’re friends. And we’ll stay friends no matter what but you must know why I said what I said. You’re a beautiful woman and I’m a lonely guy.” He smiled a bit, “ I just don’t want to make it hard for myself when you want me to leave.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook arrived back in Korea on a cold, rainy morning and against my better judgment I let Jihyun and Lisa drag me to the airport. It was some kind of publicity stunt, that much I could fathom but I didn’t know if Jungkook was in on it. I hadn’t spoken to him in a few days, he had been busy wrapping things up with the new branch in Japan.

It was another bad day for my leg and I found myself leaning heavily on my sister, her arm wrapped around my waist as we walked over to the waiting area. I could already identify a few men with cameras staring at us discreetly. Paparazzi . I saw them move their cameras down to the now obvious curve of my stomach and I swallowed. I could already imagine the articles wondering who the father was : Jungkook or Namjoon.

“You alright?” My sister asked worriedly and I nodded, not looking at her. Lisa hadn’t been discouraged by initial refusal to speak to her, keeping at it till I finally caved and let her visit me at the estate. She didn’t love Jungkook anymore, she insisted . It was over. They were over . She wanted to give her marriage a chance. Very sweet and nice, that. And it was obvious that she wasn’t lying, what with the way she and her husband kept

Jihyun and Lisa had made amends with each other and it annoyed me that they seemed to be madly in love with each other all of a sudden. Like the past couple months hadn’t even happened. I stared down at my wedding ring feeling stricken. Was it unfair that I resented them for this? Why hadn’t the two of them thought of this, of breaking things off and moving on before the damn wedding. And then maybe Jungkook and I would have had a real marriage too.

Bitter and hormonal was definitely not a good combination I thought with a wince, fingers splaying on the curve of my lower belly. It was so odd, being pregnant. The extra weight somehow foreign but also …so soothing. The last scan had shown that I had an anterior placenta and that meant that I may not feel movements for a while. I didn’t mind, having found comfort in just tracing my palm over the bare skin of my stomach.

“There he is.” Jihyun’s voice made me look up and ure enough there he was.

It wasn’t the longest we’d been away from each other and yet, I felt my heart leap at the sight of him. He truly was a very handsome man, I thought miserably. And no matter what people said, it was infinitely more difficult to hate your husband when he looked that good.

Jungkook’s eyes caught mine first and I saw the way his gaze dipped straight to the curve of my bump. Even from the ten feet between us , I saw hi lips part in surprise , eyes going wide. It probably hadn’t felt real to him till now, I thought biting my lips as he carefully handed his bags over to the two chauffeurs who had rushed to help him.

Jihyun wasted no time in bounding over and hugging his little brother tight.

I glanced at the man who had been taking photos, pleased to see the surprise in his face. Was he hoping that the CEO would punch his little brother in the face ? Idiots. Lisa stayed by my side and I exhaled shakily.

“ Dad told me something and I want to know if its true.” I said quietly.

She didn’t reply.

I took a deep breath, still watching the two brothers embrace each other, Jungkook’s face buried in Jihyun’s shoulders. I could see him shaking just a little and I felt my gut clench.

“He told me that …that you never told him that you wanted to marry Jungkook. That when he suggested Jihyun you agreed at once.”

She looked away.

“Lets talk about this later.” She said quietly.

“Does Jungkook know?” I demanded. “ Because he spent that first month of our marriage cursing our father out for forcing you to marry Jihyun. Forcing. And dad says that he did no such thing. So what is the truth.”

Lisa didn’t respond.

“Jungkook  knows.” She said finally, “ I told him… the truth. When we were in Japan.” and I laughed in disbelief.

“Was that before or after you kissed him?” I snapped and she looked genuinely pained.

“Leah, I never meant to hurt you or Jungkook.” She said shakily.

“My God.” I shook my head. “ I always knew you were a selfish, greedy person but I didn’t take you for being a liar and a deceitful coward. ”

She stared down at her feet.

“Yes. I’m greedy..”  She whispered “ And you may not understand it now but I did it for you and for Jungkook.”

She moved away and I watched as Jihyun pulled away from Jungkook, still holding his arm as he held a hand out to Lisa. The smile on her face seemed genuine as she took her husband’s hand and I shifted my gaze to mine. Jihyun and Lisa walked away to their car and Jungkook stepped closer to me, his face stoic and impossible to read.  

“Leah.” He said quietly, dark hair falling into even darker eyes.

I didn’t reply, merely stepping up to gently press my palms on either side of his face.

“Welcome back.” I said softly, before reaching up and kissing him full on the lips. Jungkook’s entire body went stiff as a board at the gesture but he didn’t pull away , thankfully. It felt cold and impersonal and barely lasted a few seconds but hopefully the man had gotten a few good shots. I closed my eyes for effect, running my thumb over the clean shaven curve of his jaw, before pulling away slowly.

I peered over Jungkook’s shoulder, just to make sure and sure enough, the man was moving closer to get better angles. I smiled a little. Good. That should hold these vultures off for a while. I turned back to Jungkook and his eyes followed my gaze catching sight of the man with the camera and his entire body seemed to go stiff with anger.

“Why did you do that?” He growled and I bit my lips.

“You know why.” I made to turn away but he gripped my arm, hard. So hard that I winced.

“What are you doing?” I asked panicking, glancing at the man who was still watching.

“Since when did you start pandering to those pigs?” He whispered angrily and I flinched.

“Your father wants to introduce you to the Board of directors this weekend.” I whispered quietly, “Most of them read the news Jungkook. The last news about us can’t be about you cheating on me.”

“That’s my business. And I’ll deal with it. We’re not doing this, Leah. I’m not putting on some kind of act just to please my fucking father.” He looked furious and the taut line of his jaw made me flinch.

“I’m sorry.” I said quickly, guilt churning inside me. He was right. I shouldn’t have done that without talking to him about it but I knew that the scandal with him and Lisa wouldn’t go down well with the Board. And the Board generally had a direct say on who got hired to top managerial positions.

“I just want you to get that job.” I said softly and he stared at me, stiff body relaxing marginally.

“Let’s just go home. Yeah?” Jungkook said tiredly and I bit my lips.

Less than fifteen minutes since he came home and we were already at odds with each other.

The most ill suited couple in the universe, I thought with a grimace as he stepped right next to me and wrapped a hand around my waist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had a very terrible tendency to forget taking my pills. So I generally left them by the bedside table. Stepping out of the shower, I found Jungkook sitting on my side of the bed, examining the bottle carefully. I tugged on the white t shirt I had on, suddenly embarrassed because it was Jungkook’s

I’d asked to borrow a couple over the phone,  simply because I no longer fit into my own and the ones I’d ordered weren’t here yet. Jungkook had agreed but still, it felt awkward when he was wearing the exact same t shirt himself.

He turned around when I moved to the vanity to put on moisturizer for the night and through the reflection I saw his gaze linger on my attire.

“Aspirin? Didn’t know that was part of pre natal vitamins?” He said seriously and I blinked., surprised. I turned around to stare at him, licking my lips nervously.

“How much research did you do?” I asked, genuinely curious and he flushed.

“I had a lot of free time. “ He said defensively. “ These six weeks.”

I frowned, before turning back to grab the small pot of night cream from the draw.

“My blood pressure is a little elevated. My mother had pre eclampsia with my sister and they just want to be careful.”

“Pre eclampsia?” Jungkook’s voice was fraught with nervousness and I turned back to see him almost white as a sheet.

“Jungkook…I.. its nothing serious.” I said hastily and his jaw went even more taut.

“What do you mean its not serious? Do you even know what it is?” He demanded.

“Do you?” I snapped back, annoyed at being treated like I was an errant child.

“I know that it’s the leading cause of maternal death during birth.” He all but shouted and I flinched.

“Okay…that’s only in extreme cases.” I held both my hands up. “ it’s a bit too premature to be panicking over that.”

Jungkook opened his mouth, as though to argue but then seemed to calm himself down.

“When’s your next check up?” He asked casually.

“This weekend. But its okay, Namjoon is-“

“I’ll come with you. I.. I want to come with you.” He said quietly.

I stared at him, feeling too awkward to outright refuse.

“You have the meeting with the Board. This weekend.” I said softly.

“So?” Jungkook shrugged. “ I’ll just tell them your appointment and health is more important to me. Besides isn’t that what you wanted? The reason you kissed me at the airport? You want the board to think we’re happily in love. I think that would be an excellent way to show them that. ”

Jungkook stared at me , head tilted curiously, daring me to deny what I had old him myself.

Sighing, I nodded.

“Alright.” I managed a weak smile. “ You can come with me.”

“Namjoon hyung left today, you said?” He asked casually.

I nodded.

“I should send him a bottle of his favorite wine for taking care of you so well. You look good.”

“He did it because he wanted to. Because he enjoyed it.” I retorted, his words rubbing me just a little wrong.

Jungkook smiled although it was more of a smirk.

“I’m sure he did. But I’m here now. And I did promise you that I’ll be there for you.”

“For the baby.” I said sharply, not liking the way he looked. The things he seemed to b implying.” You promised me you’d be there for the baby.”

“And right now, said baby is inside you.” He grinned now and I felt my pulse quicken at the sight. Jungkook didn’t smile with me. It wasn’t something that happened. At all. “ So I’ll have to take care of you.”

I stared at him, biting my lips.

“What are you doing?” I demanded. “My sister told you she never wanted you so now you want to start fucking me again?”

It was cruel. A terrible thing to say and I regretted it at once.

The smile faded.

“What?”

“ I…fuck Jungkook.” I groaned.

“is that what you think of me? Need I remind you that you were the one who came to me all those months ago? I never…. I would never force myself on you, Leah.” He looked like he’d been stabbed and I heart clenched.

“Jungkook , I…”

“I’ve been honest. Through all of this I’ve been honest to you. I lied to your sister, I lied to my father and fuck I even lied to myself. But I’ve been honest with you , Leah.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?!” I cried out, despairing. “ You were in love with my sister and –“

“And she wanted to marry my brother.” Jungkook yelled, standing up and turning to me, eyes blazing. “  All along. Know what she told me Leah? That it was never supposed to be me. That five years of us being together…it was because she was in love with my brother and she couldn’t bear the thought of being alone. She started dating me to make him jealous and when she saw that I spent so much time with Jihyun she stuck around . So she could spend time with him.” He shook his head.

I stared at him, horrified.

“Jungkook….”

“I thought I could never feel more pathetic than when I stood there listening her tel me how she never felt a single thing for me. But wow…. Thank you for proving me wrong. Because right now, standing here begging you to let me a part of the child we both made knowing you only see me as some kind of pervert just looking to get into your bed….” he shook his head,” I feel worse. I feel dirty.”

My throat went dry.

“You know what?” He moved to the closet and to my horror he grabbed a bunch of his clothes and a small suitcase. “ I’m going to go get a Hotel room.”

“What? No… Jungkook, wait!” I rushed to his side, grabbing his arm but he threw my hand off quickly.

“Ask Namjoon hyung to move back in. Better yet, tell dad the truth. That you think I’m disgusting. That the thought of me being in your life makes you sick. Tell him you want a divorce and-“

“It’s a girl.” I exhaled sharply.

Jungkook went completely still.

I swallowed, my heart racing so fast I couldn’t catch my breath.

I took a deep breath and moved to lightly touch his back, fingers splaying on the broad expanse of his shoulder blade .

He turned around at that and my heart lurched at the tear tracks down his cheeks. He looked wrecked.

“ A girl?” He whispered.

I bit my lips, nodding.

“We’re having a little girl.” He looked a little shell shocked.

“Yes. And hopefully, she isn’t as dramatic as her father.” I said softly, grabbing the dozen or so t shirts he’d pulled out of the closet and pushing them back into the shelves.

Jungkook didn’t protest, still staring into space, probably just taking the news in. I felt awful for one second because I hadn’t even cared all that much when the technician had told me.

I closed the closet door and moved back to the vanity trying to process all that had been said in the last five minutes, only to feel a headache come on. I would think about it tomorrow.

I finished braiding my hair when Jungkook’s voice came from the bed.

“If you don’t want me to intrude into your space you can tell me. I’m okay with only getting information about the baby.” He said quietly.

I stared at myself in the mirror.

I turned to him slowly. i took a deep breath, considered that what i was going to say would likely change everything between us. But i had to. 

I’ve always been honest with you Leah, He had said and I decided that perhaps he deserved some honesty in return.

“I think I’m in love with Namjoon.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : these two are such a mess istg. 

ooh i don’t have a taglist for this so please comment if you wanna be on it. 

[nightowlwriting]

summary: steve is acting weird. avoiding you, being snippy and mean, leaving the room when you enter. all you want is your boyfriend back, but all he wants is to pretend you don't exist. when he's almost hurt on a mission, you do what you're made to do.

word count: 11k

reader specifics: no race/gender/sexuality/body type mentioned, no pronouns for reader used, powered!reader, insecure!reader

warnings: steve is mean to the reader in the beginning, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, canon-level violence, brief ptsd symptoms, slight description of blood, brief mention of racism in the '30s & '40s

brief mentions of: reader's parents being toxic, homelessness, past accidents, ableism in the past & present

note: this one hurt me lmfao. idk why this went the way it did but i'm not mad at it // also i am a queer, trans, disabled american. i have fundamental disagreements with things that marvel/the mcu as it stands for and some of the more nuanced things that you might not notice unless you're looking for it. this will take place in my writing because i cannot separate myself from the lens in which i consume/create content.

title credit: lil nas x

mobile masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his. Sure - he’s clever, righteous, courteous… You can’t forget he’s also drop-dead gorgeous because every trashy gossip magazine in a three-state radius of New York doesn’t let you forget. Neither does the sight of him waking up in your bed every morning. (Well, actually, maybe that would remind you if he was still fucking doing that.)

But lately, you’ve had to rely on the fucking tabloids to catch a glimpse of your super-hero boyfriend. The university class you had picked up on a whim at the end of the summer - Life & Times of the ‘30s and ‘40s - avoids any mention of Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos. Not that your classmates do because, Christ on a bike, those magazines manage to catch pictures of you and Steve in moments that you don’t even remember. Plus, you’re an Avenger too. It’s bound to catch some attention when you waltz into a college classroom.

You’re sure if you were an undergrad trying to fill a gen-ed requirement and were sitting next to someone who could kill you without blinking but also dating Captain Rogers you’d be a little distracted too. You try not to blame your classmates too much, but they do make it hard to concentrate with their -really dating Captain America?- and -wonder if I could get an autograph- whispers. None of that matters because you’re learning, really studying, in between missions and missing Steve and believing that maybe the gossip reporters are right.

Maybe he’s forgotten about you.

You grit your teeth and push the thought away. It does you no good right now, while you’re training with Peter. He’s working his way up to bona fide missions and, because you’re the only one on the team who has experience with real-life teenagers outside of saving their lives, it’s up to you to get him to the level that he needs to be. Plus, the mission where he’s going to get his gills wet is just you, Tony, Steve, Nat, and Bucky. You’d much rather be the one to train him because you won’t traumatize him.

Right now, though, you’re just kicking his ass to try and get rid of some of the tension in your body. You feel a little bad about it, but when you started as his mentor you told him point-blank that you’d never go easy on him. That meant if you were having a bad day he either needed to up his game or he’d have a bad day too. It appears he’s taken that to heart as he struggles to dodge the hits you’re throwing his way. He lunges out of the way when you try to land a right hook but practically walks into the leg sweep that sends him crashing to the ground.

“Awe,” Peter groans, letting his guard down. You take the momentary lapse of focus to grab him by the collar of the hoodie he’s wearing and haul him to his feet, jerking one fist back to cold-clock him but he beats you to it. You hear the sound of your nose cracking before you feel it but then the pain rushes you all at once. You’ve had worse but coming from Peter, the move surprises you. You don’t yell out but he does when you push him away from you and call the fight off. Peter practically yelps your name, hands up by his head as he watches you bend at the waist, both hands over where your nose is absolutely gushing blood. “I am so sorry, I just reacted-!”

“It’s fine, Pete,” You shake your head and stand straight again, the blood beginning to leak through your fingers, “Just go get me a towel, okay?” Peter practically trips over his feet to get something for your nose and as you track him on his way into the locker rooms, you see Steve, Bucky, and Nat. The latter are looking your way, eyebrows raised like they’re asking you if you’re okay. Steve hasn’t even broken stride in his conversation so you wave them off with a bloody hand. Peter’s back in a flash, pressing a wet towel into your grasp and snapping you out of your self-pity party. “It was a good hit,” You compliment as you wipe your face off, “I just wasn’t expecting it. Prob’ly wouldn't have landed it if I had.”

He wrings his hands, shifting from foot to foot. “I’m sorry-”

“It’s a good thing, Peter, means you’re getting better.” You deadpan, checking to see if your nose has stopped bleeding yet, “I don’t think you actually broke it, but I’ll go down to medical to check later.” You do your best to clean up your hands with the wet towel, but it’s so soaked with your blood that it mostly just smears it around. You grimace and shake your head. “Well, I should go now before our sparring match ends up looking like I murdered you.”

“I’ll go with,” He offers, “I’m the one who broke your nose.” You let Peter walk you down to medical even though you were originally going to refuse. Perhaps petty, but it was the way that Steve didn’t even look your way as you left that made you let the teenager walk you the two floors to where you’d be able to clean yourself up. He hums in the elevator and you know that he wants to ask you something - it’s the way he holds his mouth when he’s prying for information or keeping a secret that tips you off. Finally, just before the elevator opens, you sigh and turn to him.

“What, Peter?” He grins but then it falls when he has to skitter after you down the hall. Maybe that’s why it falls - the question he asks next nearly sends you to your ass.

“Is everything okay with you and Captain Rogers?” He easily catches up to you when you stop in your tracks, ignoring that you’re still bleeding a little bit down your face and you might be dripping blood everywhere from where it’s run down your arms.

“What?” You do your best to look confused like everything is fine, but Peter is perceptive. He may fumble around and be pretty awkward, but those are really just teenager things that he’ll hopefully outgrow. You should have known that when someone caught onto how bad things are on your end, it would be Peter. (You wonder if Nat or Bucky has brought it up with Steve, considering he’s spent more time with them in the past week than he’s seen you in the past month.) “We’re fine.” Your words are stilted as you begin walking to the medical wing much faster than before.

“I just thought I’d ask, well, because I’ve sort of noticed… Something just seems off, you know? Like, you two used to spend a lot of time together, and maybe it’s the recon mission coming up, but I was just thinking that you two really barely look at each other even when you’re in the same -”

“Peter!” You say his name much louder than either of you expected and both of you jump. “Peter,” You say softer, looking at the glass door to the medical wing instead of him, “Just leave it, okay? It’s nothing you have to worry about, kid.” Peter ducks around to open the door, forcing you to look at him. “He’s just focused on his stuff and I’m focused on getting you whipped into shape for this mission. We only have two days.” Once you’re inside and surrounded by the medical crew Tony keeps on staff, he thankfully drops it. You love Peter, you do, but it’s a lot like having a little brother. You can only love them so much before you want to fucking strangle them. Eventually, as the doctor checks to make sure he hasn’t broken your nose, you have to order him away to go study or something. “I’ll join you later,” You promise him as the doctor prods at your tender flesh, “I have an essay due soon.”

That’s another thing that’s been bugging you that Peter surely picked up on. Nearly everybody knew you were taking a course at the local community college, but nobody knew what it was about. You’d wanted to keep it a secret until you told Steve, but the day you had registered he’d flown out for a two-week mission without telling you or saying goodbye. After that, you decided it didn’t really matter if anyone knew what class you were taking, and keeping it a secret sort of spiraled from there. If they wanted to know they could look it up. Maybe it was petty, but you just wanted the class to be over and done with so you could forget that you really only picked it up so you relate to your boyfriend more.

If you can even call Steve your boyfriend anymore. You’re not so sure where you stand and, honestly, you’re really close to giving up on the relationship as a whole but you can’t do that. Before you were dating, you were friends, and Steve… He never gave up on you. Not once. How could you repay him by giving up on your relationship? The one that you thought was The One? Even if it hurts, even if you’re unsure more than sure these days, how could you? Somewhere, though, you know you deserve better. You don’t deserve the sinking, dark feeling that lingers in your gut for most of your days now or the way that you second-guess every move you make - even in the field. It’s dangerous but you can’t do anything to fix it.

You’re too scared. You know that eventually, it will happen, he’ll break up with you, but you’d like to put that day off for as long as possible. To relish in the love he once had for you, how pure and powerful it was. You’re sure that you’ll never experience anything like that again.

Hell, you might never fall in love again.

Those thoughts don’t do anything to help you, though, so you try not to have them. You get clearance from the doctor and get cleaned up as much as you can without taking a full body shower. The idea to go back to your room and take one crosses your mind but you know that Steve’s probably done training, probably heading back for his own shower, and you don’t want to open that can of worms. Instead, you go to the common room and drop into the couch between Peter and Tony. They’re talking about something something science something something, but you pull your stack of books and notebooks out from the shelf underneath the coffee table and continue outlining your essay from where you left off. The assignment was focused on how the end of WW1 changed American life and then how life changed leading up to and during WW2 but that had hit a little too close to home for you, so you’re writing about the racial tension and overall racism of the times. Tony and Peter keep talking over your back and then you hear footsteps heading toward the common room.

You barely look up when they enter - Nat and Bucky - because it’s fine. It’s normal. They’re just two of Steve’s best friends, that’s all, nothing to be jumpy about. You don’t even register that emotional pain that hits when you realize that, yeah, you’re not one of his best friends anymore. You doubt you’re even considered a friend in his book.

You groan and lean back into the couch, bringing your study materials with you. Peter glances over, skimming over your page and a half of shorthand, and gags. “Jesus, can you write like a normal person?”

“Oh, sorry,” You say lazily, not looking up as you continue to scribble in your incomprehensible code, “I do forget that some of us had privacy at home.” You lift your lips just a little bit to let Peter know you’re kidding, looking up at him through your lashes as you slouch next to him. He looks red in the face. “Besides, once you have to start doing mission reports you’ll be begging me to learn my shorthand and use my stenography machine.”

“I keep telling you that I can update that ol’ thing,” Tony draws your attention. For the first time, you realize that Nat and Bucky are on the loveseat looking at you expectantly. Steve is standing in the corner over their shoulder reading a book from the bookshelf in front of him. His back is tense and he looks like he’s not reading, just listening. You force your eyes back to Tony on your right and shake your head.

“No, because then you’d know my shorthand and it makes me too happy to see you spend hours trying to decipher it.” His eyes wander to your essay again, trying to find any patterns that he can use to figure out what the hell you’re writing on anything ever. He’s opening his mouth to make a smart-ass remark that will no doubt lift some of the weight off of your shoulders when another voice speaks up.

“Wow,” Steve doesn’t even look at you even as he says your name sardonically, “Way to be a team player.” Your mind comes to a screeching halt, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s playing at. Even Bucky and Nat look surprised at the cold way he spoke to you, Tony and Peter both gasping from your side. You can’t say anything, throat tight and burning with tears as you stare at your boyfriend with raised eyebrows. What do you say to that? How do you respond? You know it wasn’t a joke because he’s not laughing, not smiling, not even looking up from that fucking book in his hands. You can’t tell if you’re more hurt or embarrassed, but either way, you don’t want to stick around for someone to get the nerve to say something.

Instead of replying, you slam your textbooks shut and bundle everything into your arms. You doubt Steve even notices that you’re making such a hasty retreat but if he does, he doesn’t say a fucking thing. You feel like you’re in high school - practically running through an empty hallway with your notebooks and textbooks pressed to your chest, trying not to cry. It’s ridiculous. You’re a trained assassin, you’re an Avenger, you are strong and powerful and yet… And yet. You’ve given so much of your heart and soul to Steve Rogers that he can knock you down eight pegs without even trying. Without even looking at you. You can’t wait to go on this fucking recon mission, where you can put all of your focus on making sure Peter is doing okay and gathering the intel. Where you can stop thinking about how easily Steve Rogers seems to be pushing you to the side.

You spend the next two days writing your essay, ignoring almost everyone, and working on your essay. On the day of the recon mission, you’re running out the door for your eight a.m lecture, printed essay in hand, and reminding Tony that he promised to pick you up on campus after class for the mission.

You’re lucky that you went, too. You hadn’t counted on the professor making everyone stand up and tell the class the subject of their essays - didn’t realize that it would be twenty-five percent of the grade on the paper. You’ll never understand college professors and the weird shit they do, but the class is informative and entertaining. He goes around the room, starting on the opposite side of you, so you’ll be last. Great.

Several students did their papers on the propaganda of the time, one student was brave and did her essay on the ethical dilemma of the super-soldier serum and eugenics, and most of the other students focused on pop culture and how it changed. When your professor looks at you it’s almost like he’s expecting you to have done nothing but fawn over Steve and Bucky, considering you know them personally. He looks surprised when you clear your throat, stand and say: “I focused on the casual and institutional racism that faced non-white Americans at the time.” You almost preen when he looks impressed and then the shame fills you. It’s just… You want Steve to be proud of you. You want him to congratulate you on going back to school, even if it’s just for one class. You want him to be happy and surprised that he was the inspiration for taking the class.

Though, lately, the class has been more for you than for him. You like learning new things, pushing the boundaries of assignments, making people uncomfortable with the truth of the times you’re studying as told to you by two people who lived it. It’s nice. Normal.

Everyone needs a little bit of normal.

But, honestly, normal is fucking boring. By the time your class is over and you’re handing in your essay it’s like ants are crawling over your skin. A combination of nerves from the upcoming mission, a head full of fog from whatever is happening with Steve, and a little bit of fear at the thought of taking Peter into the field has you bolting for the door the moment your essay is taken from you. You’d worn your tac-suit underneath a pair of baggy sweats and a loose hoodie, so you don’t even bother slowing down as you head toward the car that Tony has waiting for you. He’s in the front seat, grinning at you from underneath his aviators and Peter is driving.

You slip into the backseat without thinking or looking at who’s there, tossing your bag in the back and peeling your hoodie off. “God, Tone, we’re goin’ to die before we even get to the mission with Petey driving.” You toss your hoodie back to join your bag and finally see who’s sitting next to you.

Of course, it’s Steve. He’s looking at you - but not really. He’s looking through you, like he can’t stand that you’re both crammed in the backseat of Tony’s electric car. His gaze catches you and holds you in place. Everything around you goes cold and fuzzy, making you miss Peter’s indignant complaining that he has his license so he should be able to drive… And then Steve scoffs and looks out his window, ignoring you. It stings but you have a job to do. You make some witty retort back to Peter, but it falls flat as you struggle out of your sweats. This is what life is, you think. Relationships aren’t meant to be forever - you learned that at a young age.

Until your accident at fifteen, you had watched your parents run out of helium, their relationship expanding and cooling in arguments, in days spent not talking, in trips to your grandparents without the other, in passive-aggressive computer searches for divorce attorneys left open for anyone to see. Then, after you were trapped between those machines - after you spent hour after agonizing hour with electricity pressing between your atoms, being torn apart and rebuilt as a young god - after that day you watched them expand against each other before the neutron core of their relationship collapsed on itself and the resulting supernova sent you to the streets. But then Fury found you. Then Tony, then Nat, then Steve.

Your parents exploded out from each other and the shockwaves ruined your life. At least now, your relationship with Steve is ending silently. There’s no explosion, no collapse, no rapid expansion to take over your cosmos. Your relationship with Steve is simply approaching the event horizon, where it will hang in the air until one of you takes the final step and you both become frozen, two collapsing objects on opposite sides of the universe. Maybe that’s what you already are. You feel so far away from him in the back of Tony’s car - like he’s eons and light-years away from you - and you feel so cold. Frozen, down to the bone. It makes you stiff in your replies to Tony and Peter, slow on the uptake when the car pulls up to the quinjet, nearing stasis and unable to respond when Nat asks if you’re okay.

Finally, you turn to look at her, nodding. “Fine,” You clear your throat, “Been a rough day.” You do your best to smile at her, but your face feels heavy. Your chest feels cold and tight, making you worry about your performance on the upcoming mission. When Peter shakes his head next to you, discreetly telling Nat not to press, you’re focused on Steve and the electricity humming in the most base part of your body.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. You turn away and force yourself to smile, throwing a weak and numb arm over Peter’s shoulders. “Are you ready for this, Pete?” You jostle him back and forth, leading him toward the sitting area behind the cockpit. “Gonna get your ass kicked?”

“Please,” He shoves you off, nervously laughing, “Not with the skills you’ve taught me.” He mimics throwing webs, making hissing noises under his breath, and you bark out a laugh, shaking your head.

“You’re payin’ my medical bills when I have to save your ass, Spidey.” You shake your head and strap in next to the wall, Peter taking the seat to your right. Tony, from the aisle across from you, points a thick finger your way.

“You don’t pay medical bills anymore,” He waggles his finger, “So you’ll just have to make him do your homework for a week.”

“Mister Stark!”

“He’ll have to earn shorthand to do your essays,” Nat chimes in from between Bucky and Steve, who are both doing their best to not look at you - or anyone really. “You willing to share that with him?”

You lean back in your seat and jab at Peter with your elbow. “Hell no, so I guess Spider-Boy better do his best.” The arachnid in question grumbles, crossing his arms and slouching in his seat.

“No pressure, right?” He complains, “Not like I’m already nervous or anything.”

“You’ll do fine, kid,” Bucky pipes up, drawing your eyes back to Steve, “It’s goin’ to be a cakewalk.”

“Don’t jinx it, Barnes,” You warn half-heartedly, tucking in on yourself, “We need this to be easy.” From the look on his face - everyone’s face, really - you know that they heard you loud and clear when you were really saying I need this to be easy.

After an uneasy laugh from Bucky, a claustrophobic silence settles over you all as the jet begins to take off. You’re in for an hour ride and plan to spend it going over battle plans with Peter when harsh whispering catches your ear. It’s Bucky and Steve nearly crushing Nat between them until she gets up and sits across from Peter, rolling her eyes. Still, you try your best to run him through the actions you both had planned - the names, the setups you needed to execute them, everything. If something happens to Peter, you’ll never forgive yourself.

And then, cutting through your soft promptings to Peter and his equally soft replies, Bucky’s voice. “Leave it, Steve. Until after this mission.” Even Tony looks up from his tablet, curiosity piqued. Their faces are both red, set hard and angry at each other and your stomach drops. What the hell is going on that Steve ‘Till The End Of The Line Rogers is fighting with Bucky You And Me, Pal Barnes? You must shift, or lean too far into Steve’s eyesight, because for the first time in what feels like years he is looking directly at you - and seeing you, too. It makes your pulse jump and, almost instinctively, you want to reach out and ground yourself on the rubber of the seat underneath you.

You don’t get the chance, though, because Steve speaks. “No, why should I? This is clearly affecting the team.” He’s still looking - glaring - at you like you’ve done something wrong. “What’s the point of waiting? I’ve been waiting to talk about this.”

“Bo, I don’t think this is the time,” Bucky looks over his shoulder at you, then, and you know what’s coming. You know that it’s time, that Steve is about to break up with you in front of your teammates. Your friends. Your family. You steel yourself for the anguish you’re about to feel and then jerk your chin out, hardening your resolve.

“Buck, it’s fine. If Steve wants to address something, he can.”

Natasha says your name, a low warning over the hum of the quinjet. “I think he should wait.”

“Well, I’m not goin’ to wait!” Steve unbuckles himself and stands, “I have tried waiting, and look at where that has gotten me.” He puts his hands on his hips and puffs out a breath. You unbuckle and stand, too, unsure of where this is going. “You need to,” He holds one hand out, pointing at you while his voice shakes. You notice his hand is shaking, too, but fractionally. If you didn’t know Steve as well as you do you may have never noticed it. “You need to get it together.”

“I need to get it together?” You question, eyebrows nearly hitting the ceiling with how fast they shoot up. You’re not totally sure you’ve heard him right because what do you have to get together? The broken shards of your relationship? The information and research for your final paper? The awful way you’ve let yourself be treated for what seems like forever?

“You heard me,” Steve says, at the same time Bucky leans his head back and groans deep in his chest. “What? Someone had to say it.”

“We should wait for this,” Nat speaks up again, but lifelessly. She knows now that you and Steve are both on the warpath, neither of you are going to stop. (That’s also why the two of you work together as a couple so well. Very rarely are you both so worked up about something that you can’t back down, so the other is always there to meet you halfway and get you back to earth.)

“No, no, no,” You say, near hysterically, “No, he wants to do this now? Before a mission? Instead of the fuckin’ weeks we had to hash whatever crawled up his ass and died out? Be my guest. He’s already dragged everyone into this by treating me like a pariah.” You’re not sneering, but your teeth are gritted so tightly together you can hear them scraping and feel a tension headache beginning to bloom in your temples. Bucky looks… Almost incredulous at your statement. Like putting the blame on Steve is a dick move or something.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy here?” Steve is curling his lip, glaring at you. There’s something behind his eyes, but he’s buried it so deep that you can’t reach it and figure out what it is. “I’m the bad guy, right. Right, right, right.” He scoffs, shakes his head, and then he’s running his fingers through his hair like he really can’t believe what you’re saying to him.

“Well, what else am I supposed to think?” You throw your hands out to the side and let them slap back down on your thighs. “You ignore me, you make me feel like shit, you talk down to me like I’m some insignificant foot soldier. How else am I supposed to take that, Steve?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe ask me what’s wrong? Maybe ask me why I’m acting like this, instead of ignoring all of your problems like a child?” He mirrors your moments, but the sound his hands make when they hit the outside of his suit is more powerful than yours. Fueled by anger, you think. Anger and whatever the hell was in the serum Erskine pumped into Steve.

“Ask you?” You repeat, near-hysterical, “Ask you? Oh yeah, let me get right on that. Hey, Mister Rogers? Mister Captain America? Mister Ignores-His-Partner-For-God-Knows-Why? Hey, just why are you doin’ that?” You’re surprised that you’ve said something so snotty, but you don’t back down. (Steve looks surprised, too, and Bucky has stood up next to his friend like he’s about to start berating you as well. At least he looks more cautious about it, like he’s not totally sure that this fight should be happening.)

The more surprising part of your fight is how fast it’s shut down. Tony and Nat stand at the same time and exchange a glance like they’ve surprised each other. “That’s enough,” Tony starts.

Nat cuts him off. “I don’t care if you fight this one out instead of talking, but if you do it before this recon mission you two are going to blow it. Do you understand me?” She looks dangerous, the sharp edge of a knife spiraling through the air. You force yourself to look away from her, from Tony, from Bucky, from Steve. She’s right. You know she’s right - especially on this mission. Peter is there, going to be in real danger even though there’s not supposed to be one Hydra agent in a four-mile radius. You have to clear your mind and focus on protecting him.

Steve seems to think the same thing because he stands down. When you watch him collapse in on himself, Bucky’s arms around his shoulders, into the little quinjet seats your everything aches. Heart, lungs, eyes - everything. Even though you don’t know what’s going on, what could have possibly happened to make your relationship sink this quickly and out of the blue, you still love him. He’s still The One for you. You still want to be the one to comfort him and make him feel whole when he’s struggling.

But you can’t. You can’t and it kills you.

The heat of battle makes a lot of things fade into the background. Important things like why the fuck are there Hydra agents here? and Steve is going to break up with you when you get back on the jet and Tony swore on the fucking limited edition AC/DC vintage tour poster he has in his office that this would be an easy in/easy out information mission. None of that matters, though, because you’re in deep shit. There are seventeen of them, all primed to the teeth with weapons made to take your team down permanently.

You’re practically glued to Peter, calling out commands and plans for him to initiate. It’s when all of your plans fall through that you take a hit from a heavy fist on purpose, hitting the ground hard. “Plan F, Spidey, Plan F!” You cover the instruction with a groan and then you’re back on your feet, working your way toward him.

“Plan F?” Tony says, somewhere above you in his suit. Your comms crackle ominously as another heat-seeking grenade is launched, interfering with the radio waves your tech relies on. You don’t worry about it, because you know Tony is on it. He’s your eyes in the sky.

Peter is the one who answers his question, watching your close hand-to-hand tilt out of your favor briefly. “Plan Fuck It, Mister Stark.” He grunts as he webs up a Hydra agent, jerking him away from where he was about to slip a knife up and under Natasha’s kevlar. You finally drop the guy in front of you, ignoring Steve’s disappointed Language! and toss one of your knives toward Nat for her to use. Tony is still laughing in your ear, wheezing as he drops down and snags the rifle from one of the snipers and then takes back off.

What your little protégé failed to mention about Plan F is that it’s not just chaos, but controlled chaos. You let loose, letting a soft current cover every inch of your skin as Peter switches to his conductive webbing and takes special care to not web any of his allies. Except for you - if you’re in the way and he catches you in a web it doesn’t matter because you’re you, alive with electricity that drops the men that get caught in the web, too. You rip out of the webs and turn the current off when one of your teammates gets too close.

More Hydra agents are pouring out of the woods, topping out their numbers around twenty-five. That’s twenty-five too many in your opinion, especially when you can see Peter getting tired, his anxiety spiking, his moves having more and more hesitation behind them. You need to get this over with quickly, but you don’t have the options to do that. Steve, Bucky, and Nat are really the heavy-hitters - you, Pete, and Tony are the only ones without serums despite all of your individual abilities. Desperately you reach out for a web that’s still connected to Peter’s arms, pulling him out of the way of a baton that’s about to come down on the back of his neck.

The baton the agent is wielding glints in the coming dusk, freezing you as Peter scrambles past you with a quick apology. You’ve seen that before - seen it, felt it, know it like the back of your hand. There’s no way that you could ever forget that weapon. The man stumbles when his hit doesn’t connect but then rights himself and searches for a new target.

A long, black baton that splits into two prongs at the end is heavy in his hand. Electricity crackles between the bulbs at the end, flashing in the setting sun and your memories. The man only has one, but if it was hooked up to a machine, spinning. If there were four, five, six. If you were pinned between them, screaming in the pain as they rewrote your DNA… You’ve only felt it once, but you’ll never forget it.

And now, you’ll taste it again. On purpose this time. The man holding the stun baton is going for Steve’s back - his strong back, the one that protects people, the one that holds the weight of the world, the one that lays in your bed, the one you see whipping out of rooms as you’re entering just so that he doesn’t have to look at you - and you can’t let that happen. It only takes ten amps to kill a regular human, but you know those things are cranked up to twenty minimum. You don’t want to see how many amps of current it will take to stop Steve’s heart. You’re between the baton and Steve before you can think about what you’re doing or what comes next, the hard bulbs settling unyielding into your side and cranking out maximum power for maximum damage as soon as the current is connected and able to flow from one bulb to the other.

The pain hits you and your throat catches on it. It burns through your body, setting everything on fire - your chest hurts as your heart protests the electrons and then your powers kick in, sweeping them into your very atoms and cells. You’re a live wire now, ears humming and body thrumming with power you’ve only dreamed of. It hurts, and it burns, and you feel tears rising in your eyes because you’re back there - back begging for death or for life or for God and god at the same time - but then it’s over. The man sees that you’re not seizing up, not dropping dead in front of him, and he takes three steps back.

It’s not far enough.

You’ve only felt like this once before - right after you were unhooked from the machine that changed your life and brought you to your new family. You remember how you looked when you were put in front of a mirror with all of the pent up electricity circling your body - how your eyes were filled to the brim and dripping with bright and blue electricity, the way it was jumping across your body, how you didn’t need to breathe because your body was fully saturated with pure, unadulterated power. You wonder if you look like that now and assume you do because you can see the bright blue reflecting in the terrified eyes of the Hydra agent.

Your suit, unlike everyone else’s, is not grounded. It’s metal, metal, metal. You’re made to conduct, born for it, and the earth beneath you comes alive with bright white as you release all of the energy, the power, surges down and out. You’re practiced. You can reach out and feel the synapses and neurons of every human being in the clearing, know exactly where your teammates are standing, and know exactly how to target everything but them and the pitiful amount of electricity their brains carry. You grin, something truly feral and unhinged, and you can see the fear in the Hydra agent. Then, you let go.

You know that everyone is going to be pissed. (Maybe not everyone.) You’re not built for this, not made to take down nearly twenty fucking people at once. As you let go, you feel what they feel. The seizing muscles, the stopping of their hearts, the inside of their bodies crisping against their bones. At that moment, that delicious moment, you see the universe.

You become God. You become everything - your mother and your father and God and god and anyone else who’s watching your life from the ether. You become the judge, jury, and executioner of souls that you don’t know from Adam. You become lightning, and thunder, and exposed nerves of the cosmos at the same time. The world bends to your will and you relish in it, taking that power in your fist and wielding it to protect the man you’ll love for the rest of your life and the family that you’ve made. You will stop at nothing to end this, even if it means turning yourself inside out to do it.

You damn near do turn yourself inside out too, but that doesn’t matter, does it? The blood spilling from your ears, nose, and eyes feels like heaven. It’s hot, and thick, and it’s proof of the power that your body holds. You’re a temple and a sanctuary, a war-room and a bunker, a field of flowers and a sun-dry desert. It does not matter if Steve doesn’t love you at that moment, because you are love and hate wrapped into one package. You are everything and nothing, spread thin at the beginning and the end of time.

And then none of that is true. You are just… You. Standing in a clearing, surrounded by twenty-something dead Hydra agents and your terrified, terrified family. It hurts to breathe and you can taste blood in your mouth, but that’s an afterthought. Steve is still standing behind you, but he is alive. That is what matters.

This is what love is, you think.

Pain and pleasure.

Even if he leaves you, you will always love him.

Pain and pleasure.

You’re weak at the knees when he finally turns to see you - and you’re a sight. Struggling to stand, fingertips blackened with soot but not burnt, blood pouring from your nose, ears, eyes… You look like death, but you feel like life. Someone says something behind you - Peter, maybe? Or maybe Tony, in your comms? - but you don’t hear it. Everything tunnels out, your weak knees finally collapsing as you keel backward.

Steve bears down upon you almost immediately. You’re halfway to unconsciousness when he wraps you up in his arms, keeping you from falling in with the pile of bodies around you. He’s saying your name, harsh and soft and then in a voice like he’s ordering you to wake up. You loll about as he drops you down onto a patch of clear grass, hands searching your body for wounds. When he skims over your side, where the baton has burnt through your suit and your flesh, you surge back toward being able to have cohesive thoughts. The pain brings you back, hands wrapping around Steve’s arm and calling out his name. “Steve! Fuck, that hurts!”

“Honey,” He breathes, “Fuck, we have to get you back to the jet.” His jaw ticks, hair dirty and loose from its normal style. “Why’d you do that?” Steve doesn’t wait for an answer from you, ordering Peter to web something up to carry you over your protests.

“I’m fine,” You argue, only slurring slightly, “I feel fine.” But you’re going to let Nat and Bucky load you up on the webbed stretcher anyway because it’s the first time Steve has cared for you in a long time. You want to relish in this moment, the way that he didn't say your name but called you honey.

Well, and because Natasha slides a thumb across her neck over Steve’s shoulder in a silent threat.

You groan when Bucky accidentally grabs your calf where there is an absolutely awful stab wound, but you wave off his apology. “How could you have known?” To be honest, you hadn’t even known it was there until his Vibranium hand was slipping against it and sending shockwaves of pain through you. Peter is next to you the whole time that you’re being carried back to the jet - Tony staying back to begin scanning the bodies of the Hydra agents for the information you need and any other information they may be carrying. The poor kid is nearly at a breakdown, so you reach out to him and shake his arm when his fingers twine with yours. “Chill out, kid, I don’t know how you got it into your head that this is your fault, but it sure isn’t.” He sniffles, but hands back with Steve as Bucky and Nat get you situated in the small medical room of the jet. They transfer you and then make to leave, only Bucky hesitating near the door.

“Stevie’s goin’ to be here soon and… I don’t know what made you do what you did but you have’t explain it to him. He’s bendin’ over backwards to figure it out, and we don’t have’a clue. Came out’a nowhere.” He looks at you for another moment before shaking his head and stepping out of the room. Your head is spinning, partially from what Bucky just said and partially from the pain and stimulus of electricity. You wait there, then, because this is it. This is the event horizon. You wait there, eyes closed, until you hear footsteps approach the med room, and then the door slowly opens. Steve says your name, holding all the finality and weight of an atomic bomb. You don’t open your eyes until he swings a chair next to the stretcher and lays a hand on your calf.

“You don’t have to do this,” You finally say, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. “I know that you don’t want to.” Steve only scoffs and begins to wash the stab wound using a packet of soap and a water bottle. You say his name twice before he looks at you, something between hate and hurt curdling into a glaze over his eyes that stops you in your tracks.

“Just let me do this. It is the least that you can do.” His words are painful and stilted, like it’s taking force to push them past his teeth. You lay back down and close your eyes, content to just feel the pain of Steve beginning to stitch you up and then dress the wound before you feel the pain of Steve leaving you like you knew he always would. (Falling in love with Steve Rogers went against every instinct you had. You knew that he was going to hurt you from the first moment your lips touched his.)

When he’s done he sits back and puts his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He heaves a heavy sigh and then shakes it off, “I’ll dress your burn, and then we’ll talk.” And normally, yes, you would agree but this is too important. You want to get it over with so you can lick your wounds metaphorically and dress them literally - and then you want to go home, you want to pack your bags, and you want to disappear and remake your life somewhere else.

Some far-off place where everyone you know won’t take one look at your face and know that you’re still painfully, deeply in love with Steve Rogers, end of your semester be damned. Family you’ve made be damned. You can’t sit around and be in love with him like a neon sign on a dark highway while it’s painfully clear that he hasn’t had a sign on his highway in a long time.

So instead of agreeing, you swing your legs over the stretcher and swallow your flinch when the burn pulls tight. Steve opens his mouth to argue but you give him a tight-lipped shake of your head and his jaw snaps shut. “No,” You say, voice not giving in to the emotion swirling in your chest. “I have let this go on long enough.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because Steve fucking scoffs again and looks away from you. “One day was long enough.” He says, cutting straight to your core. Okay, ouch. You take a deep breath and shake your head to try and bite back the tears that are inevitably rising in your eyes. If one day was long enough for him to realize he doesn’t want to be with you, why did he let it go on for nearly a full year? Why did he spend so long leading you on, pulling you by a thread before garroting your heart with it? What was the point?

“If you want to leave me, just say that,” You reply harshly, standing and wobbling away from him. He just watches you go, watches the way you struggle past the lead weights your muscles have become, the way you’re starting to feel the stab wound on your leg, the way the skin on your burn is beginning to blister and only just now losing its heat. He just watches you, where the Steve that loved you once upon a time might have helped. You turn your back on him, hands on your hips so that you can hide the way that you’re crying and your hands are shaking.

“If I want to leave you? If?” He says. You hear the scrape of his chair as he stands, “I think after what you’ve done, it’s not an if, sweetheart.” The way he says it tastes like iron. Steve never calls you sweetheart like he never calls you by your name. It’s always honey, lover, dovie. You don’t turn to face him because you’re struggling to keep yourself above water. “I spent so long thinkin’, wonderin’, askin’ myself - God damnit, will you look at me?” You turn slowly, not because you’ve never heard Steve speak like that but because his voice is desperate and raw. When you turn, you’re not sure what to expect. Maybe him, standing in front of you, broad-shouldered and disappointed like in those PSA’s he had to film once. Maybe he’d be angry, hands clenched at his sides and eyes narrowed like he gets in meetings when he doesn’t agree with something but he’s out-voted. But you never expect to see him crying, lip wobbling, folded in on himself like a young boy instead of the strong, invincible man you’ve come to love.

He looks so different.

It hits you, then, that you’re not looking at Steve Rogers. Not really. He's not Steve Rogers, not Captain America, not even Captain Rogers. You see him as he was - before America spat it’s untruths all over him and injected him with a serum that changed who he was, is, will be. He’s not the able-bodied man that you know, not strong and unreachable, not the heartthrob that overshadows the team during press events. He’s not America’s Darling, not really. Not where it counts.

You’re looking at Stevie Rogers. Stevie Rogers who, for all intents and purposes, was supposed to die before he made it out of toddlerhood or soon thereafter. Stevie Rogers who the doctors said wasn’t supposed to survive. Stevie Rogers who grew up sickly, rattling painful breaths and never playing ball with the neighborhood boys. Who couldn’t walk until middle school when he got his braces off. Who never had a partner because Bucky, strong and handsome and tall Bucky, was always deemed the better option. Who believed in his country so much that he tried to sneak into the second world war, subjected himself to a painful medical procedure so that he could change his very DNA to be what the world wanted him to be.

Captain Steve Rogers. Captain America. Strong, blond, patriotic, resilient.

You’re sure that if men don’t want to go to therapy now, in the modern age, they certainly didn’t want to go in the ‘40s. So where did that leave Steve, your Steve, standing in front of you and looking small, and broken, and sad, and alone? Did they expect him to take his new, taller, working body and run with it? Did they not think about how he would lose a part of himself in the process? How did they expect him to go from disabled to abled without some disconnect?

You think about the You That You Were Before and the You That You Are Now, and how you lost a part of yourself when the accident gave you your powers and how you’d lose yourself if someone figured out a way to take them away. You Before formed your identity around being normal - living in a shitty home with shitty parents, sure, but normal - and You Now form your identity around your powers, your team, your job, your love. If you lost those things, what did you have left? Who would you be?

When Steve lost his identity and became everything that America wanted everyone to think that America was, what did he have left? Sure, he could tell himself that he represents America - strong and patriotic and just - but it must have conflicted with everything he knew about himself before that. You know that disabled people now know that American society is unjust, unfit for them with abled people not willing to make room to allow them to thrive. You can only imagine what it was really like for Steve in the ‘20s and ‘30s and ‘40s. What he had to do just to survive. (Medical experimentation, you remind yourself. Did they know it wouldn’t kill him? Did they know his body wouldn’t rip itself apart with the new sinewy muscle they were packing on? Did they care? Or was he just a body they saw as broken? A project to fix? To turn him into something more like them and call it patriotism?)

You shake your head at him, still filled with despair, and try to figure out what he’s talking about. “Stevie,” You start, pet name easily replacing what you had been calling him because it’s not fair to shoe-horn him into a body that doesn’t feel like his own. You wonder if he still expects the bone-grinding pain that he used to tell you would happen when it rains. He raises a hand, a strong and family hand, shaking his head.

“I just need to know why I wasn’t enough for you,” Steve looks sad, slouching in on himself like he’s expecting to get his ass handed to him in another alleyway and hope Bucky is there to save him. “I need to know why you wouldn’t just break up with me if you wanted to see other people so badly.” You suck in a shocked breath because, okay, that’s not what you were expecting. Between that and the paradigm shift you’ve had on how Steve must view his identity, body, and self, you’re stunned. Steve continues like he doesn’t even register that you look shocked and pale and now you’re crying because he thinks you’re cheating on him? “And I get it. I get it. You have no idea how much I understand. If I were you, I wouldn’t want me either, okay?”

You cut him off there because what the actual God damn fuck is he talking about? “No, Stevie, I’m not cheating on you.” You shake your head again and this, your statement, lights a fire in him. He still looks like Stevie rather than Steve, but there’s anger there. You imagine that’s what it might have looked like moments before he got himself in trouble back before he was serumed. “I’m not.”

“Oh, yeah?” He challenges, jaw ticking and chin jerking up, “Oh, yeah? You can’t lie to me. I know, okay? The act is up, it’s over, I know, okay? You can stop pretending.”

“Steve, I do not fucking know what you’re talking about but I”m not cheating on you!” You raise your voice, not really angry but more out of necessity. You need to get it out of his head that he is anything less than everything you want - that you could possibly love anyone more than you love him.

“I wanted to clarify something for you,” Steve says like he’s reading an old script from when he was just a beefy, red/white/blue stage prop for the American military, “I am excited to meet with you, but there are some rules. Do not talk about Captain Steve Rogers. I don’t want to hear about him,” As he continues to recite something that has clearly hurt him, you go lax. You know exactly what’s happened - your fists unclench, your jaw drops a little bit, and it feels like someone has gutted you, “I think it is wise to keep work and pleasure separate, and it’s a rule I will enforce heavily. I look forward to seeing you again.” He’s sneering at the end, tears falling down his ruddy cheeks.

“Steve,” You try again, but he cuts you off.

“Am I just work for you?” His voice is shaking more than you thought possible, and so are his hands. You’ve never seen Steve so off-kilter, so thrown, and it breaks your heart that yes, technically, you’re the cause of this. Before this, before this horrible misunderstanding, your relationship with Steve was the paragon of trust so neither of you cared if the other read emails or texts. You remember the email - the email from your fucking college professor - because it had made you so angry that he’d referred to your relationship with Steve as something as simple and base as just pleasure - like you could even put words to the galaxy of a relationship you had with Steve - that you’d gone to the gym to work off some of that irritation. You hadn’t wanted to take it out on anyone accidentally. When you came back from the gym, Steve was gone on that two-week mission that he’d left on without saying goodbye.

Oh, God. You feel sick to your stomach as the paradigm of the way that Steve’s been treating you shifts violently to the left. You have to physically hold yourself up and try to speak past the lump in your throat. Steve looks… Brokenly smug. Like he knows he’s right, but he’d rather gnaw his own legs off than be right.

“No,” You croak, “No, Steve, you’ve got it all wrong.” You want to reach for him, but it feels like the room is closing in on you. You’re second-guessing everything now - especially what you’ve just said. How many people said the exact same thing to him pre-serum because they said something meant for Bucky to him? How many times did he hear that when he was getting a new diagnosis, hoping for the best? How many times had his own mother said it to him when he told her something someone had said, fresh-faced and not yet used to the way that abled people sometimes treated disabled people? You think you might be sick. “That email was from my professor, Steve. I’m not cheating on you, I’d never.” He laughs darkly and sits back down in his chair, head in his hands again. You try to gather the strength to move toward him when you see his shoulders shaking, a telltale sign that he’s crying.

“A professor,” He says with a watery laugh, “Right.”

Finally, you realize that he needs you, needs to know you love him, that you’d do anything for him. You can iron out the kinks later - figure out why he didn’t want to come to talk to you past the original hurt, why he treated you so coldly, why he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do this to him - but now, you need to show him that you’re here. That you choose him. That you’ll always choose him.

You make your way to him and set a shaking hand on his shoulder. For a brief second you think he’s going to shake you off but then Steve’s hand shoots up and latches onto where your hand is resting, dipping his head to press against your arm. “Stevie, please,” You say, unsure of what you’re asking him to do, “I picked up a class, just one, and it’s… I picked it up for you, it’s about the ‘30s and ‘40s and…” He looks up at you and he looks so broken - face ruddy and wet with tears, lip wobbling, chest heaving as he tries to not sob. His brows are knit and he looks confused, “I just wanted to be able to understand you better. You had to leave so much of yourself at the door when you joined the Avengers, had to leave so much of yourself in the ice… In Erskine’s lab… Stevie, I just wanted you to be able to be you when you’re with me. I wanted to know the you that you were before you became Captain America.” Your voice is shaking, knees knocking together, and honestly? You feel like you might blackout.

“What?” He rasps, “What?”

“He sent that email because too many kids signed up for his class thinking that they’d be able to look at pictures of you and Buck for a semester. Emailed me directly because he knows we’re…” You choke on your words, shaking your head because you’re not even sure there’s a we anymore, “Because he knows I’m on the team. Didn’t want me walking in and making his class about just a few years in the ‘30s and ‘40s rather than the culture of the time.” You don’t know how else to explain it to him, but Steve isn’t saying anything - practically isn’t moving or breathing- so you continue to try and explain what’s really happening as best as you can, “And - and that email made me so angry because he singled me out, didn’t email anyone else about it, and I left to try and work some of that out; I didn’t want to take it out on you, or let it spoil - let it spoil… But when I came back from the gym, you were gone. You were gone for two weeks and I didn’t know why.” You’re crying harder now and pretty sure that within the next sixty seconds you’re going to collapse if you don’t sit down.

Steve shakes his head, still looking like he doesn’t understand. “What?” He says for a third time, “A class? A college class?”

“I just wanted to feel closer to you,” You confess, “Just wanted to understand a fraction of your life without making you do the heavy liftin’ and teachin’ me. Shouldn’t have’t do that,” You’re sobbing, barely biting out your words as you realize that something you’ve done to strengthen your relationship with Steve has destroyed it, “Shouldn’t have to explain a whole different time just to feel loved, Stevie. Should be able to be with someone who understands without you havin’ to explain.” You’re not sure you can say Peggy’s name out loud, and you hope he understands what you’re saying without making you actually say it, “Should’a been able to have love with someone who knew, and I know I’m nothin’ compared to what you should’a had, but I want to be. I want to be in the same ballpark instead’a watchin’ from the stands.” You wipe your face with your free hand and look away from Steve when he stands in front of you. You don’t want to see the look on his face - what he’s thinking about what you’ve said.

He says your name and you glance at him, but his expression stops him in your tracks. Where Steve looked broken and hurt and fuming with anger to hide the anguish, now he looks stricken. You shake your head, “No, no. I didn’t say that to make you feel guilty-”

“You think that I care about whether or not you can understand the ‘40s?” He cuts you off, hands moving to curl around your biceps, “You think that I care whether or not you can relate to a time in history when you weren’t even thought of?”

“Of course I love you. I love you more than anything in this world, but you shouldn’t have to not care, Steve,” You argue, shaking your head, “That’s what I’m trying to say. You should be with someone who understands without explanation. I just wanted to give that to you - didn’t know that this would happen.”

“I should be with someone who loves me,” He argues back, “If you love me, that’s all that matters. My past be damned.”

“But your past is you!” You try to pull away from Steve, but he anchors you there. You’re dizzy from being so close to him after this long, but also because of how many different twists this situation has taken. You can barely keep up with how bad your communication with Steve has become - barely keep up with how you need to fix it, or how to fix it. “Your past is you,” You repeat when you realize that Steve isn’t going to let you go. “And you shouldn’t have to give that up so that someone will love you.”

“But you love me,” He says desperately, ducking his head so that he’s nearly nose to nose with you, “You love me, right?”

“More than anything,” You say, closing your eyes and relishing in the feeling of being so close to Steve, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I don’t care about what anyone else thinks, or anyone else. I’ll even stop goin’ to class if you want me to - Steve, I just can’t do this anymore. Can’t do this thing where you don’t talk to me about what’s botherin’ you.” You’re choking up, barely whispering, but you know he hears you. YOu can feel his warm breath on your face, “Nearly fuckin’ killed me.”

“I thought it was goin’ to be easier,” He breathes, nose bumping yours, “When you eventually decided to leave me for him. Thought I was savin’ myself some trouble.” You can practically taste his tears as they fall again, “Buck and Nat tried to tell me that you weren’t - that you wouldn’t - but I just couldn’t believe them.”

When you open your eyes, his are closed. This close to him you can see the soft freckles that are blooming over his eyelids, his soft eyelashes kissing his cheekbones. You can feel him breathing, feel him nearly pressed against you in a way that feels hauntingly nostalgic and terrifyingly fleeting; like you’ll be able to feel his warmth for years to come, but he’s about to disappear. “That’s okay,” You finally whisper, “It’s okay that you didn’t believe them. That you thought what you thought. It’s okay.” He shakes his head against yours, opening his mouth to protest, but you refuse to let him feel guilty about feeling this way - you have plenty of time to sit him down and talk to him candidly about the way he acted because of these feelings, anyway. “If I would have been in your place I’m not sure I would have believed them.”

“I treated you so badly…” He shifts and wraps his arms around you. It’s almost immediate - you relax into his arms and wind yours around his waist, keeping him pulled against you as he presses his face into your neck and you press your cheek against his chest. “So awfully.”

“We’ll talk about that, okay? But later. Right now you just need to know that I love you, Steve. I love you more than I can tell you - more than I can express.” You want to kiss him, but you can’t. Can’t kiss him, you need to wait for him to kiss you, for him to close that gap and show you that he still loves you like you love him. “We’ll have to have a talk, a long and hard conversation about this, Stevie, but for now… For now, I’m just content to be with you, okay? MIssed you so much.”

He sighs, nose pressing against yours again. “Missed you too, dovie. Missed you more than I can even say,” His voice breaks as his lips brush yours. Your relationship is not without its flaws and problems - Steve’s actions when he thought you were cheating on him are proof of that and, well, the fact that you didn’t realize what was happening, why it was happening, or a large part of your boyfriend’s psychological makeup having an impact on your relationship while it went unknown by you… There is a lot of work for the two of you to do, a lot of work to do, a lot of communication to be done… But you’d do it all for Steve, over and over again.

When he presses forward and presses his lips gently to yours, you know that he’ll do it all for you, over and over again, too.

[stardewtales]

Your shane x reader are some of the first I read when i got into sdv, and they still hold a li special place in my heart <3 I love the way you wrote shane, jas, and the farmer (you kept the farmer rather neutral, but you still gave her moments of personality, rlly great stuff!), anyway, I'd love any shane related stuff you would do, but if your looking for a request, the reader teaching him abt farming/gardening (planting hot peppers together eee) i think would be rlly cute-ok bye lysm!!!

A/N: hey lovely!! If you're still around, thank you so much for this. I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to get to your request, but here it is! Hope it lives up to your expectations xx

Shane can feel you hovering behind him.

"What is it," he groans, not bothering to turn around.

"Sorry," he hears you say. "Just, be careful with the roots, please? I don't want all your work to be for nothing."

Well, he can't exactly fault you for that. If anything, he's ashamed because he was distracted while you showed him the whole thing about the roots.

He turns to look at you. "Would you, uh... mind showing me again?"

His stomach twists as you smile at him, thoroughly amused. "Sure thing. Here, let me get in there..."

You kneel beside him, knees firmly planted in the dirt beside his. You proceed to show him how to dig around the roots instead of into them for a second time that afternoon. For a second time, he finds it hard to focus with you so close, but he fights that a little harder this time.

"Here," you hand him back the trowel, "give it another shot."

He can't miss the way the look you give him is so damn encouraging. You've given him plenty of variations on that look by now, with various degrees of concern thrown into the mix. He proceeds to try digging up the pepper plant again, the sun boring down on the back of his neck as he does it.

"Am I getting it right, now?" he asks, glancing up at you quickly.

"Couldn't do it better myself," you nod exaggeratedly, and he fakes throwing dirt at you in retaliation.

It gets a laugh out of you, clear and joyful. It stirs something inside him, the feeling that's been nagging at him sort of often these days. It hits him like a ton of bricks in that moment that this is the feeling he used to chase all the way down the bottles, the sort of rush he used to think would make up for everything else.

He must've made a face when he realized it, because your brows furrow in concern.

"Are you o-" you start, but you're cut off short by a girlish squeal further down the field.

Him and you both shoot up, surveying the surroundings.

"Jas?" you half-shout, concerned.

"I think I need some help," her voice pipes up sheepishly, and the two of you finally spot her, fallen on her butt among the sunflowers.

You huff, relieved, and tell him you've got it with a brief touch on his arm before you leave in Jas's direction. Now that he knows she's not hurt, he can go back to making sense of his thoughts, yet he barely registers the lingering feeling of your fingers on his forearm.

He kneels and gets back to work, distraught. His first instinct is to worry. The therapist Harvey connected him with cautioned him pretty early on about the way some addicts replaced one addiction with another, and that all good things should perhaps be enjoyed in moderation while he was on the road to recovery.

You're the best thing in his life by far, but he failed to keep you at arm's length a long time ago now. He's not dense enough to be unaware that he's developed some pretty strong feelings for you. But this particular feeling is new-ish, and he doesn't quite know what to make of it. As his fingers dig up the pepper plant out of the ground and he gently removes chunks of dirt from the roots, Shane hopes really hard this doesn't mean he's allowed himself to veer all the way of the right path he's been trying so hard to stick to.

He hates to think about it, but maybe he needs to cool off on seeing you so often so he can at least get a grip. He can't even recall the last time he went a day without seeing you. Sometime in the spring, probably? It's the very end of summer now.

After he's transferred the plant to the wheelbarrow, Shane stands up and looks around. You're still helping Jas uproot some sunflowers, even though her initial job was just to collect the stray seeds. Officially, he and her were there to help you wrap up the summer crops so you could transfer some to your greenhouse. In reality, he was helping you; Jas was causing more trouble than she was helping, but you didn't seem to mind at all, more than happy to show her over and over how to handle things properly.

He didn't know how you did it. It's like you had an endless well of patience, and he knew he ought to have reached the pit of it by now. And yet, he had not. There were depths to your kindness that reached far enough that even after dealing with him through his recovery, you still had plenty left for Jas in all her fumblings and ill-advised adventures.

For the rest of the afternoon Shane managed to clear his mind and just keep working somewhat efficiently. Marnie came around just before dinnertime to get Jas, who was too exhausted from running around by then to protest. Marnie had also let him know she'd save him a portion of dinner for when he came home, but to take his time, which he'd made sure to thank her for.

It wasn't long until Jas left before you and him moved on to replanting the uprooted plants into the greenhouse. He liked that part more than the digging up; liked the hazy warmth of the greenhouse more than the blaring heat of the field. The two of you worked mostly in silence, both exhausted, him perhaps more than you.

After you planted the last of yours and he was halfway through his own last plant, he heard you clap your hands together to shake the dirt off your gloves, before you fully shrieked.

"What's wrong?" he quickly turned towards you.

"Your neck!" you replied, walking over to him. "Did you not put on sunscreen like I told you to?"

Shane instinctively reaches for the back of his neck, and while the sunburn doesn't hurt yet, he can feel the tell-tale heat coming off of it.

"Ah, shit. Think I missed a spot."

You tut at him, shooing his hand off so you can take a better look.

"You big idiot," you chastise him affectionately. "You're lucky I have an infinite amount of aloe in the house from last summer."

**************

As Shane steps out of the shower and into your steam-filled bathroom, he can already tell he'll be sore from all this work. He doesn't know how you do this every day. He tries to get a look at himself in the mirror, but it's too fogged up. Probably better that way, he thinks.

He's used your shower plenty of times before, and he's glad that at the very least it doesn't feel as awkward as it used to. While he was still in the pits of getting sober, you'd graciously let him stay over on your couch so Jas didn't have to see him struggle when it got too hard. He still doesn't know why you did that, or how to repay you for it.

After putting on his clothes, he steps out into your living room, where you're waiting for him with a huge tub of the goo you intend to smear on his sunburn. You've showered too, and made him do it after you because otherwise you claimed he'd just wash off the aloe later, which was probably right.

"C'mere," you beckon him over to sit on the arm of your couch.

He chuckles. It's funny to him, how bossy you get when you're trying to take care of him. Nevertheless, he does as he's told and dutifully sits down like you instruct him. And waits.

Nothing happens.

"You okay back there?" he asks, looking over his shoulder.

You raise a brow. "Aren't you gonna take off your shirt? How am I supposed to get this on you otherwise?"

He feels a bubble of panic rush up. He's in better shape than he used to be, but he's still not much to look at, and he doesn't like the idea of you finding that out like this. "Is that really necessary?"

You sigh, and he knows there will be no convincing you. He feels the tips of his ears burn as he lifts his shirt over his head, dropping it at his feet and taking precious care not to look back at you. "Happy?" he mumbles.

"Hmhm," you hum quietly behind him.

You bring your aloe-coated fingers to his burning skin, and instantly he feels consumed by ice-cold flames. He was not prepared for you to touch him quite so gently, to work the gel into his skin in tiny, careful circles. His throat runs dry as he's reminded of his earlier conclusion that he needs to take some time away from you, for both of your sakes. If the way his body is reacting to this isn't proof, he doesn't know what would be.

You let him know you're done, and he promptly puts his shirt back on. He wishes he hadn't when the stickiness gets a hold of the collar.

"So, just a heads up," you start, screwing the jar of aloe vera shut, "I'm gonna be really busy tomorrow I think. So maybe hanging out in the evening when I'm done would be better?"

He's taken aback by the way this is coming up faster than he anticipated. Still, No time like the present I guess, he thinks to himself.

"About that," he clears his throat, "I think it might be better if I spend some alone time for a while."

He watches you still. You look up at him slowly, visibly confused. "Have I done something wrong?" you ask, and it kills him. "I'm sorry if I have, I know I can be a little overbearing sometimes," you start to ramble, but he cuts you off.

"No, no, none of that," he tries to reassure you. "It's just, uh, how do I say this," he scratches at his head, genuinely at a loss. "Remember how I told you my therapist said I should, like, maybe be careful about things I enjoy a lot? And about... strong emotions?"

You nod, but he can tell from your slight frown you're still confused.

"Well, it's kinda like that. I feel really good when I'm with you. Maybe a little too good. Strong stuff. But I don't wanna depend on you to feel... good. I wanna keep this healthy, yeah?"

You ponder his words, and he can tell he hasn't really gotten his point across. "I mean, I think I get where you're coming from, maybe? But Shane, I think it's okay for you to have a support system. Is it really so bad if being with a friend makes you feel good? I think that's how most people feel."

He shakes his head, huffing. "No, it's not like that."

"Then what is it like?"

His eyes meet yours, and he feels weak. "Please don't make me say it," he whispers.

"Shane," you reach out to touch his shoulder, "You're worrying me."

He swallows. Before he knows it, it tumbles out of him. "I have feelings for you. I have for a while. And lately it's gotten a little out of control. So I need some time away from you to get over it, okay? I don't want things to be weird. I need you too much to have things be weird. So I need to figure it out before it gets there."

You stare at him, and he sees so many emotions run across your face that he gets dizzy.

"You... what?" you say quietly after a while.

He feels heat rise from his chest all the way to his ears, like some twisted type of nausea. "Forget it, alright? That's not the point I'm trying to make. I just..." he breathes, "I'll see you in a few days, yeah?"

He doesn't wait for a response. He goes for the door right away, in a real hurry to leave this place where everything is so blatantly yours, down to the smell of your lotion lingering in the air from your bare legs.

But you don't let him leave. He feels your hand on his arm, a real grip this time, and the next thing he knows you're reaching for his neck and bringing his mouth to meet yours. Shane thinks he's forgotten how to make his blood run, how to make his lungs breathe, how to make his limbs move. You're pressing your lips on his with a fervor he didn't even know you had in you. Then, with an instinct of its own, his body kicks back into gear, and he feels himself wrapping his arms around you, bringing you closer yet as he pours all the energy he has left into kissing you back.

It's desperation that compels him, because he never imagined this would ever happen outside of his mind, outside of his daydreams. He's not even convinced he'll ever get to do it again, so he's making this one count.

He genuinely has no idea how much time has passed when you break away from him, panting. You're not saying anything, just searching his eyes with yours.

"Please say something," he eventually breathes.

He watches as you swallow, then exhale loudly. "I don't want to see you in a few days only. I wanna see you now and in the middle of the night and every moment of every day. I don't want you to go and get over me, because I don't think I'll be able to get over you if you do, Shane. So don't leave me. Stay. Please."

Your words fluster him a great deal more than he already is. "Okay," he nods, in a half-daze.

"Yeah?" you make sure, still catching your breath.

"Yeah," he confirms. "Anything for you. Of course."

[spikesbimbo]

HELP!!! virgin aone being so scared to touch you because he's been told he's so big, rough and tough his whole life 🥺🥺

-.._.-''-.εїз cute shy baby virgin!aone, titty grabbing, fingering

shy virgin! aone who turns red at anything more than a peck on the cheek. Taking it slow with him, insisting that he takes care of you first after you asked to give him a handy, almost saying yes to your pleading puppy dogs eyes. But with his little sheer remaining will power he said no, instilled in him since day one, ladies first.

Having to guide his hands all around your body, starting with your sides. Trailing up the sweater you had on as your hands rested on top of his, completely drawfing them. Using all your mental strength to control yourself from the feeling of his rough calloused fingertips inching further and further up your waist, remembering that you were the one taking the lead and instructing him on what to do.

His body freezing when his fingertips hit your bra, nervously turning his gaze to the floor as your body grew hotter as his adorable reaction. Hesitating for a second to let him catch his breath before grabbing the base of his palm as you lead it up to your chest, squeezing your hand around his, fully encompassing you tit.

Hearing his voice crack as he let in a breath, seeing his gaze was still beneath him, as you took it into your own hands to relax him. Your free hand coming up to his jaw, turning it easily upward as he didnt resist and stroking it lightly, knowing that, that was the way you would always put him to sleep.

A silent gaze as your eyes meet his, his intense stare was nothing as you had him completely lost in your own little world. Neither of you breaking eye contact as your thumb traced his bottom lip. His eyes fluttering, doing there best to stay open as his blush grew to his ears. Pride growing deep in your chest that you were the only one to see him this vulnerable, to see him looking like a lost puppy waiting for a treat, to have him at your complete will.

His pupils wide with unsure lust as your hand started closing around his, seeing every movement asn his face ever so slightly contort as you made him grope your tit again. His warm hand was getting hotter and hotter as he grew more confident, staying put even when you let your hand drop. Repeatedly peering down to your breasts before quickly going back up to you again.

“You can take it off.” Your voice soothed out, a hint of mischief lingering in your tone. Eyes batting up at his as you could see the gears turning in his head.

“I- , uh.”

Letting out a little laugh that you couldn't constrain while he couldn't form a sentence, seeing that he never would if you didn't help your poor baby boy out.

“...s’fine. I can do it this time, and you can next time.”

Chuckling as you let out a wink, seeing his eyes widening and quickly scrunching up. His cheeks turning redder, almost cooing at how cute he was, always making your heartbeat a little too fast.

“You gotta take your hand off sweetheart.” Your sheepish, sly grin breaking free as he almost instantly removed his hand, placing them both in his lap looking like a child getting scolded. Your fingers working their way behind your back as you leaned into his shoulder, lips touching his neck while his arms instinctively supported you, letting out a giggle into his ear.

Remembering what you said last time he got this far,“...Or I can't take it off.”

the words playing in his head ever since that day.

Letting your bra drop to the floor as seductively as you could. Seeing his eyes ogle you, you suddenly feeling shy too.

“T-, they're pretty.”

“Pretty?”

His head quickly nodded as he never wanted you to think he was joking about how much you loved you and your body.

Taking your chance to sit down on his big thighs, straddling his lap as you still gave him a full view, lips meeting his ears once again. “You know what else is pretty.”

Not even getting the chance to respond before your legs spread, shirt hiked up enough, middle and ring finger covering your clothed cunt. Turning his vision slowly down, not wanting to have a heart attack as he knew what laid before him.

But that still wasn't enough, mouth hanging slack as he saw how wet you were. White panties blending in with your skin as he could see the slick leaking through them. Did he get you like this? Fuck, he knew you could tell how hard he was, knowing you were playing dumb trying to be a good girl a listen to him.

But he couldn't even fist his cock without the thought of you running though his mind, you really had him daydreaming about you like you were the only thing to ever exist. Just wanting a taste of you but he knew he couldn't control himself just yet, scared that he'd break your body if you let him.

“Wanna touch there too?” Your voice breaking him out of his trance. A hint of anticipation echoing through your voice.

“I-, if you'd let me.”

“Of course.” Locking eyes with him as your lips pouted out, squishing your tits against his while you wrapped your arms around his neck. “You know I'd let you do whatever with me.”

Him almost knocking off his lap as he hastily adjusted himself, his arm catching you before you could even stumble. Reminding you of when you two first met, walking down the sidewalk looking down at your phone while he was walking home, sleepy eyes barely open as he ran into you. Quickly apologizing as you just stared at him, instantly falling for him, saying he could make it up by buying you some tea.

Knocking you off your feet just to save you, what a man.

“How about this is the ‘next time’, you gotta take them off now.”

Looking head first into your cunt as you stood before him. Accepting his fate as he marveled at it a few moments before deciding on how to drag your paintes down. His rough fingers playing with the hem of your waistband as he hesitated.

“Baby, I-. Fuck…. Love, I don't think I can't control myself if I even catch a glimpse of it.”

Trying your best not to laugh as his hands rested on your thighs for now, “Well, you don't gotta take them off, do you?”

“Yeah, fuck. I can do that.”

His hand moving back up to your disgustingly soaked panties, inching there was up your thigh until he felt your slick running down them. Hearing a soft little whimper escape your soft lips, that giving him enough courage to actually, finally take care of you.

Sliding his hand down your painties, feeling your body shake the moment his middle finger hit your clit, the movement coming innate to him as he circled you nub as gently as he could. Vision locked on you, wanting to ingrain the most pretty sight he's ever seen in his mind.

Your wetness almost oozing out of you at this and you knew he could tell, his finger catching it each time. Hearing your pretty little moans and whines for him to keep going made the pain in his wrist disappear, feeling gutsy enough to take it further.

Sliding his middle finger down enough until it reached your hole, curling the tip in. Your hips rocking into it as he took the hint, sliding it in slowly enough, feeling your tight walls contract around him. Barely even fitting his finger in there, deep down wondering how you were gonna even take him.

Starting a pace as you looked blissfully fuckd out, proud that he got you like this. Feeling so overwhelmed as your body collapsed onto his, laying limp in his hold as he paused for a second, worried that he took it too far.

“You alright?”

It was your turn to be the mess, nodding quickly, embarrassed that if you even tried to talk it would come out in a pathetic moan. Wondering how you got a man like him, so perfect, always doting on you like you were a piece of glass, like you were a ‘princess’ in his words.

“M-, ah!, m’gonna cum, don't stop.”

Feeling his cock grow harder at your pleas, thankful he wasn't inside you right now or he would've cum embarrassingly fast. “Shh, s’okay. Got it, i got it.” Trying to calm himself down also.

“Nobu!, cant, i-, ngh. Please.”

Fate had it that all you had to do was ask like a good girl and he'd give you wanted, immediately cumming, making a mess all over the place as you egged you on cooing in your ear, getting your wetness all over his thighs as your thighs were shaking, thankful for his grip on you.

“That feel good? He asked, staching the back of his neck, his awkwardness shining though once again.

“Yes it felt good!” Almost in awe that he would question himself after getting you so worked up. But before you rested you could tell that he was in need of some help too, hand tracing up his thigh while his head snapped up at your touch.

“So… When are you gonna let me take care of you?”

[scumbagg]

NSFT/18+

Space Ghost Coast to Coast

A/N: I purely wrote this as Bell instead of Y/N since I can’t bring myself to write Y/N fics 😂 

I recently finished MW2 and needed some Ghost food to heal my broken heart after the traumatic betrayal I witnessed. Also maybe a bit of DadPrice! giving a lecture. Here goes nothing..

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem Bell

Word count: 3252

Warnings: smut, injury (gunshot), blood, swearing.

“Eyes up, scouts patrolling up ahead.”

Price’s voice in your earpiece came through at the exact moment the two men appeared in your line of vision 40 metres in front of you.

“Dropped him.”

Aiming your sniper, the guard trailing slightly behind fell to the ground before you’d even had time to place your finger on the trigger. Taking aim at the other man’s head, your rifle made almost no sound as you took him out a second later.

“Nice shot. Move up.”

“Thanks.” You whispered back. You turned back for a moment to the place you knew Price was laying hidden almost 90 metres behind you.

“Move, Bell. We won’t have much time before more patrols come along and find those bodies.” Soap’s whispered voice now, also in your earpiece - but you knew he was somewhere to the right of you hidden in the long grass. You crawled quietly through the grass. You heard the brush whispering slightly either side of you as the bodies of Soap and Ghost moved up to flank with you.

“Hold up, two more tangoes patrolling the fence line.” Price murmured a moment later. “Take ‘em out, or let ‘em move on. Your call Bell”

“No stragglers.” You whispered back. You heard the pops from Ghost’s and Soap’s suppressed guns as they took out the two guards ahead.

“Good call.” Price confirmed. “Can’t see anymore inbound. You’re in the clear. House up ahead is empty. We’ll regroup inside.”

“Roger.”

Standing up, you scanned the area out of precaution for more enemies. Satisfied, you nodded to the other two men to move up. The three of you passed the fence line and had almost made it to the back door of the house when it happened.

You heard it before you felt it. The sound of a pistol being fired in your direction had you spinning to face the direction it came from, when suddenly you felt white hot pain erupt in your left shoulder. Dropping to the ground, the sound was over almost as quickly as it started, but your eyesight went black as you squeezed your eyes shut in pain and gripped your shoulder as blood poured through your fingers.

“Bell!” The scream came from within your earpiece at the same time Ghost shouted your name, making your ear throb in pain. You hardly noticed with the burning coming from your shoulder, but you still flinched.

“What the fuck was that?!” You gritted through your teeth.

“One of the guards back there wasn’t as dead as we thought. He fucking is now. Don’t worry darlin’, you’re gonna be alright.” Ghost pried your hand away from your shoulder and replace them with his own. “Soap, get me the medi-kit from your pack, quick!”

“Darlin’?!” Soap laughed as he handed Ghost the pack. Frowning, he looked down at the two of you.

“He’s taking the piss.. it’s an inside joke.. had to be there.” You said through gritted teeth, glaring into Ghost’s glasses. Ghost said nothing as he worked on stopping the bleeding, but the minimal supplies in the kit weren’t doing much.

“Fuck!” Ghost said in a panicked voice. You were starting to feel drowsy, and the sight of all the blood was making you queasy. You could feel your head starting to spin, threatening to send you into unconsciousness.

“Ghost, she’s gonna be fine. Look, the bullet went straight through.” Soap said calmly, pointing at the bullet lodged in the brick in the wall just behind where you’d been standing. “It’s a clean wound, it’ll just need stitches.”

“Fine. We’ve gotta get her back ASAP. I’ll take her, you and Price grab the intel.”

“No, I’ll take her.” Price came into view, rifle slung over his back. “You’re the one that’s better with technology, you’ll get the intel quicker from the computer. Someone’s bound to have heard those gunshots, we’re sure to have company soon. C’mon Bell.” Price hoisted you up under your uninjured arm, replacing Ghost’s hands with one of his. Stumbling, you gripped Price’s arm for support. Looking over at Ghost, you noticed his eyes tighten behind his sunglasses, but he nodded in assent.

“Let’s get moving,” Price commanded, nodding at the other two. “Soap, Ghost, I’ll send for another chopper to pick you up. See you boys at home.”

*****

  Fourteen stitches and a bandaged shoulder later, the infirmary staff finally let you leave. Pushing open the exit door to the outside, you found Price leaning against a jeep waiting for you.

“What are you still doing here?” You asked suspiciously.

“Thought I’d give you a ride home. It’s a bit of a far walk and I assumed you’d be too hopped up on pain killers to drive yourself.” He replied, opening the passenger door courteously.

“Oh… thanks.” You said, taken aback by the display of kindness. It’s not that Captain Price was unkind; he’d just never shown any outward kindness outside of the field. You were surprised that he’d thought to even come back for you.

The two of you drove in silence for a few moments, before the question you were burning to ask broke its way out of your control.

“Did the other two make it back okay?” You tried to sound casual, but your insides were turning with worry.

“Yeah, they got back about an hour ago, no issues.” Price answered, concentrating on the road.

“And the intel?”

‘Acquired.” Price gruffed.

“Hmm, very good.” You stared straight ahead, watching the sun settle in the west. This was the first time in a non-formal environment you’d ever spent a moment alone with the Captain, and you weren’t sure how to make small talk with him. You sat in silence as Price drove you through the city. You wondered how he knew where you lived when it occurred to you that being a member of his team, he’d know where everyone lived. Not that you spent much time in your own house these nights. You thought back to a few nights ago...

The sound of Price clearing his throat awkwardly pulled you out of your reverie. Looking over at him, you watched as he shifted in his seat and waited for him to speak.

“What is it?”

Price sighed. “Look, I really don’t want to have this conversation. But I’ve told him the same thing I’m telling you now. This is one of the best task forces I’ve ever worked with, and I don’t want anything fucking that up. Understood?”

You felt your calm composure slip through the cracks as your eyes widened in panic. You glanced over to see him still staring straight ahead, his mouth set in a hard line.

“Wait, you know about-”

“Of course I fucking know.” Price snapped, watching you out of the corner of his eyes. Shit, so maybe he did know where you actually slept after all. “I know everything that goes on in my team. Look,” he said calmly. “I don’t give a fuck what you get up to in your spare time. It’s like I told him, I’m not going to report it. It’s not been an issue yet. Just don’t let it affect you on the job.”

“I haven’t! I’ve been so careful about trying to keep it professional while we’re on a mission!” Your heart raced at the fact you had been caught out.

“I know you have, Bell. But that man is head over heels for you, in case you hadn’t realised. I’m concerned he’ll let his feelings for you get in the way of the job. Look at today – he’s the best man on our team for tech, and he was willing to throw the whole job, just out of pure panic for you.” Price sighed again. “I’m not sending either of you away. I just needed to remind you of the main reason we are here. If you two can’t handle that, I’ll be forced to find someone to take your place on the team.”

“Does anyone else know?” You asked quietly.

“I don’t think so, but if Simon continues on the way he was today, I doubt it’ll be long until Soap catches on.” Price grimaced, then looked over at you. “Darlin’,” he grinned.

“Ughhh,” you groaned as Price pulled up outside what you now realised wasn’t your house. “I can’t believe he let that slip out.” You unbuckled your seatbelt, careful not to move too much that it pulled at your stitches. Opening your door, you looked back at Price. “Thanks for the ride, I appreciate it.”

Price smiled and nodded in response. “Don’t be too harsh on him about today,” he said, looking over your shoulder as you heard the front door open behind you. You closed the door and waved as the jeep drove away.

*****

  All your anxiety from the conversation with Price suddenly turned to irritation as you turned to face the man in the doorway. You stormed towards him, your uninjured shoulder hitting his lower abdomen as you barged your way past him into the hallway.

“Bell-” he began.

“Get out of my way, Simon. I need a fucking shower.” You snapped irritably.

“Here, let me help-”

“No.”

“Bell!” Simon pleaded.

“What the fuck was that today?!” You snarled. “You might as well just fucking announce to the whole place that we’re together!” You began climbing the stairs towards the bathroom, but stopped halfway there. Staying angry wasn’t one of your strong suits, and seeing him standing pleadingly in the hallway washed away your irritation. “Look,” you sighed heavily, coming back down the stairs so you were eye level with him. “I just had the lecture of a lifetime from Price. I can’t lose what we have here Simon, and he warned if we couldn’t keep it professional out there, then one of us would be replaced.” You stepped towards him, reaching for him in both apology and forgiveness. You placed a hand on his masked jaw, your thumb stroking along his hard cheekbone.

“I’m sorry for today,” he said apologetically, leaning his cheek into your hand. “Seeing you injured and in pain, all that blood… I panicked.”

“It’s okay,” you soothed. Smiling up at him, you smacked his arm playfully. “You’re silly, you know that right. Even I knew it wasn’t bad, and you’ve seen way more injuries than I have. I can’t imagine how you would’ve been if Soap hadn’t been there to pull your head in.”

Simon wrapped his arm around your head, resting his hand at the base of your skull and pulled you in for a hug. You lifted your other arm to place it around his waist and winced. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“How are you feeling anyway, darlin’?” He stepped back to survey you.

“Rubbish. These pain killers are doing their job, but I feel disgusting. I really do need a shower.” You looked over your shoulder towards the bathroom. “I uh... might need a hand actually,” you said awkwardly, wondering how you were going to manage without getting your stitches wet. Surprisingly, this was your first major injury, given your line of work.

“C’mon,” he said, pulling you towards the bathroom.

 Simon turned on the shower and helped you undress, helping remove your shoes, pants and underwear, aware of your fresh wound as he carefully pulled the shirt from your arms and over your head. His eyes filled with remorse as they fell on your injured shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, darlin’,” he whispered. “That guy that shot you… that’s the one I took down. I didn’t know he wasn’t dead.” He looked away sadly.

“Hey,” you grabbed his chin gently and turned his head so he was looking you squarely in the eyes. “It’s not your fault. Stop blaming yourself, no one else does. I’m fine.”

“But what if it had been worse? What if that bullet had landed here?” Simon touched your forehead. “Or here,” he said, touching the base of your throat. “What if-”

“Don’t think about it,” you said firmly, pulling his hand from your neck. “Simon, I said I’m fine.” Still holding his hand, you pulled it up to your lips. “There is one thing I am annoyed about, though,” you smirked as you kissed his fingers.

Simon looked at you quizzically. “Why am I the only one naked right now? Surely you’re not gonna shower in your clothes.” You stepped inside the shower, letting the water run over your head, careful to avoid letting it hit your left shoulder.

Simon’s eyes squinted, and you knew he was smirking behind his mask as he removed the rest of his gear and dumped it on the ground next to yours. As always, his mask was the very last thing he removed. No matter how comfortable Simon was with you, and no matter how many times you’d seen him without it, there were certain insecurities that were too deeply ingrained. The last piece of Ghost removed, and only Simon stood in front of you.

Simon stepped in the large shower with you. Grabbing a face washer and pouring body wash on it, he gently helped scrub off the dried blood that had made its way down your torso. He shampooed, conditioned and brushed your hair, knowing you couldn’t lift your arm to wash any dried blood that had knotted in there. Once you were clean, you grabbed the other face wash and carefully, with your good arm, moved it across his chest and abdomen. He watched as you gently made circles on his large shoulders and down his muscular arms.

You wrapped your good arm around the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. “Don’t be too long,” you smiled as you stepped out of the shower and wrapped yourself in a towel.

Walking to the dresser, you pulled out some clothes and attempted to get dressed but you couldn’t pull the shirt over your head. You sighed, and sat on the bed resignedly, still in your towel. You heard the shower stop running, and Simon stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Here,” you beckoned, reaching for him. Simon came to stand in front of you, standing in between your legs. You leaned forward and kissed his stomach, feeling the warm skin beneath your lips raise with goose bumps. You tugged on his arm, pulling him down towards the ground. He knelt, still between your legs, and leaned forward to bury his face in your neck. Almost a whole foot of height difference between the two of you, yet you were the only person who could bring Simon Riley to his knees.

Your good arm snaked its way around his broad back, tracing his spine, down to his hips to the edge of the towel. You heard Simon’s breath quicken, still lightly kissing your neck, when your fingers made their way around to the front of his towel and tugged it loose, letting it fall to the floor.

You lightly brushed your fingers down his stomach and over his navel, until you reached the base of his shaft. You felt Simon’s breath hitch as you gripped it in both hands.

“Bell..” he groaned.

“Mmm?”

He brought his mouth round to yours, kissing you deeply. His mouth trailed back along your jaw to your ear. “Why am I the only one that’s naked?” You felt his smirk against your cheek as he repeated your line back to you.

“Maybe you should fix that,” you whispered back.

Simon wasted no time in removing your towel and throwing it across the other side of the room. You laid back on the bed as he trailed kisses down your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth and thumbing circles around the other. Your hands threaded themselves through his thick hair as you massaged his head. Simon’s hands followed his head as he made his way down your stomach and down your navel, his hands gliding over your hips and massaging up and down your thighs.

You threw your head back and moaned in pleasure as he buried his face between your legs, his mouth sucking and licking at your clit. You gasped as you felt one of Simon’s fingers enter you, then two, and he slowly picked up a rhythm as his mouth and fingers worked in synch. You could feel your walls begin to tighten as you got closer to your orgasm.

“Stop,” you gasped. Simon looked up quickly.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked worriedly.

“Not at all,” you tugged at his arm so he pulled himself so he was hovered above you. “I need you in me right now,” you purred as you pulled his head down, his lips crashing to meet yours.

You reached down and grabbed his length firmly, stroking it. Simon’s eyes glazed over with lust as he moved his head back to your neck. Guiding him, you positioned him at your entrance.

“You sure?” he asked huskily. You knew he was teasing. He knew exactly what you wanted.

“Yes,” you breathed.

You both groaned with pleasure as he entered you, filling and stretching you out. Simon set a slow pace at first, until he was sure you had adjusted to him, then quickened the pace. His hands moved to your waist as he slammed into you, holding you in place so you didn’t move around too much. He pulled your legs over his shoulders and you gripped his forearms, lost in pleasure.

Simon leaned forward and your legs dropped to his waist. He took one of your breasts in his mouth. You moaned in ecstasy as he hit the sweet spot inside of you.

“Simon.. I think I’m gonna-” you gasped.

Still inside of you, Simon pulled you on top of him as he rolled onto his back. “Not yet, you’re not.”

“Owwwww!” You winced as the action pulled tightly at your left shoulder.

“Fuck! Sorry! You okay?” He asked worriedly.

“Yeah,” you moaned as you picked up the pace again. You brought your legs either side of his waist and pulled his hands to your breasts as you lowered yourself onto him, taking him completely. Now in control, you could feel every movement and every angle as you took him deep inside you.

Simon gripped your breasts firmly as he felt your walls begin to tighten. “C’mon, darlin’,” he groaned. “I’m not far off, myself.”

“I’m gonna come,” you whined. You rocked your hips back and forth and threw your head back as your walls clenched around him. You rode your orgasm out, and heard Simon groan as his own orgasm erupted into you. You fell on top of him, exhausted and satisfied.

Simon gently rolled you off him and onto the bed as he got up to get some water. Your eyes followed him, appreciating his finely sculpted body as he walked to the sink in the ensuite, grabbing a glass off the nightstand and filling it with water. He met your eyes as he walked back to the bed.

“What?” He asked bashfully as he handed you the water, aware of his nakedness.

“You’re beautiful,” you smiled drowsily, taking the glass.

Simon chuckled. “Are you sure you’re okay? They must be some strong drugs they gave you.”

“Hmmm... never better” you sighed as you handed the water back to him. Despite what you said, sleep was already pulling you under.

Simon leaned in and kissed your forehead.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”