#in summary what I want to say is that consent is ALWAYS IMPORTANT AND NECESSARY and I love to see that acknowledged in stories

[shy-forceghost]

I just love how every post-S2 Warrior Nun fanfic that I read includes a part of Ava apologizing to Beatrice for kissing her without asking

WN fans, you really understood the assignment n.n

[keigo-chan]

I Don’t Know Where To Put My Hands

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Keigo comes home, just for a bit, in the middle of spying on the League of Villains. He needs you, he needs this. And you love him. What else is there to say?

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings/Tags: Pro Hero!Reader, No Gendered Pronouns for Reader, Reader Has a Vagina, Extremely Dubious Consent, Unhealthy but Loving Relationships, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Emotional Masochism, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injury from Sex, Fluff but Evil

FULL TAGS/NOTES ON AO3

Communication from Keigo had all but disappeared after the battle in Kamino. He didn’t even text anymore. He certainly didn’t call. He didn’t even send mail, or notes, or anything. Civilians spotted him, even around the very city they lived in, as the tags you had alerts on for notified you, but he didn’t make any effort to contact you.

You tried to be calm about this. He was still alive. That’s what mattered. If he wasn’t trying to talk to you, it was because he couldn’t.

But that was a scary thought, too.

You thought about asking the Commission for a short leave. It was the Holiday season, so many other heroes were beginning to stagger out their own leaves. But that only made you more hesitant to do so in turn. Your agency- Hawks’s agency- was always close to reaching ‘understaffed’ numbers. You wanted to be there to help fill in the gaps. Especially with the biggest gap right at the helm of the agency. What was important these days, as the voice in your mind that sounded a lot like Keigo reminded you, was how the public saw the heroes. The best thing they could do was bring hope- so you kept busy making public appearances, trying to just keep up with him.

When you finally got home at the end of that week, the end of your set of patrols, you were exhausted. You were distracted by your phone when you unlocked your door and went in. You tripped over the threshold of it, barely catching yourself with your wings. You looked back at your stoop for what had made you fall, and saw a red book waiting for you.

Attached was a note. “From: K”.

Your heart dropped. You lunged for the book at once, picking it up and flipping through it. Just like you suspected, there were many highlighted portions.

You and Keigo had been working side-by-side for years, and though actual partners for longer, you knew a couple of the more intimate details of what the Commission dragged Keigo through. You’d known for a long time that skills associated with espionage would be necessary. The two of you had made up your own.

You flipped through the book, barely registering what it was even about, as you hurried to shut the door and locked all the locks behind you. You fluttered about quickly, drawing the curtains and blinds while opening the book with one arm. There was nothing else written not in code. You settled in on the couch and began to decipher.

You used a cipher, always based off of a word or phrase or date only you would know. The cipher that worked would correlate to the level of danger they were in or amount of secrecy they needed. You worked your way up three levels, to the day of your anniversary.

‘Being watched by LOV.’ Reading that alone had made the ever growing anxiety worse. Is that what he was doing? Something involving the League of Villains? ‘No big danger now. Keep ear to ground. Lay low. Attack in four months. Hope to come home for New Years. Miss you. Love you. Be safe. Keigo.’

You sighed out a long breath you didn’t know you were holding, shutting the book and resting your forehead against it. He’d held this book, had written in it with care. You wished he had left anything else, though the messy handwriting on his note was nice. 

All of the feathers you’d had from him had faded, gone a very dark, dull red- a sign that they had died. Keigo no longer had control over them, and could no longer hear or feel through them.

If they were going to attack in four months, did that mean that he would be away until then?

You tried to clear the thought from your head. He was on a mission. Clearly one that even he took seriously. For now, you needed to take over as the cool-headed hero that everyone wanted. For now, you needed to take care of the Agency. Keigo’s image as a hero didn’t need to suffer, even if he was away.

You could do this. You would wait for the next couple of weeks, until you might be able to see him again. Keigo wouldn’t have mentioned it if he wasn’t decently sure that he’d be able to come back.

He’d be alright on his own. He’d be alright on his own. You set the kettle on to boil and made his favorite tea. It gave you an idea.

Over the next couple of weeks, you left things out for him. Boxes outside with small notes, assurances left in code. Sweaters and smooth pebbles and old trinkets they’d collected over the years, so that wherever he laid his head to rest, it would feel a little more like home.

He took them. Sometimes it was overnight, sometimes days or a week went by without them being taken. But he always did, and he always left something in return. A shiny, pink shell. One of his feathers. One of the silver rings he always wore, too big to fit anywhere but your thumb. You took to wearing it around at once, rubbing it when you were nervous or overwhelmed, thinking of him, thinking of his hands.

 New Years came limping around the corner. You sent everyone in the agency home with warm smiles and their much-desired bonuses. You went back to your own home alone, shuddering under your coat. The Christmas tree had already been put away- because it had never gone up. You and Keigo always took it out together, decorated it together.

You hadn’t spent a Christmas without Keigo before since you’d met him. Even before you were dating, when the two of you found out you had no one else to spend it with, the agreement to visit each other came almost immediately. That very first time, you’d waited to put up the tree until that very day, and you hadn’t managed to finish decorating until he’d gotten there. You were ashamed- but he was just excited. He asked you, stars in his eyes, if he could help. He confessed, words rushed and still half-flying, that he’d never gotten to before. You didn’t ask and he didn’t offer. You handed him a box of mismatched ornaments gladly. 

That night, you’d sat around the tree, the sight of threadbare branches and two gifts perhaps looking pitiful to anyone else, but there were lights. Keigo had gone and gotten lights mid-way through, saying he’d been struck by inspiration, and he hadn’t come back for quite a bit since most of the stores were closed, but they were beautiful. You’d turned the rest of the lights in the house off and just basked in the warm glow of them. They reminded you of Keigo’s eyes, a bit. That was the first time you’d rested your head on his shoulder. He wrapped his wing around you.

You couldn’t help but be upset that he hadn’t even mentioned Christmas, much less apologized for missing it, even if it felt a little childish. You felt homesick more often than not. All you wanted to do these days was lie in bed, lounging around in his baggy clothes, twirling dead feathers between your fingers.

You left him a gift before Christmas. When you saw that he still hadn’t picked it up the next day, all you could do was sigh. By the time New Years came around, the gift remained by your doorstep. You began leaving less and less, just to stop crossing that threshold.

You baked cookies that night. You lit candles and dimmed the lights and listened out for sparkles and fireworks all over. You’d started hating fireworks when you started dating Keigo. He’d made a joke once about having to fly through them and it made you sick to your stomach just thinking about it. He was as flammable as a bundle of dry straw. The heater was on, but you still wore one of his old, tacky Christmas sweaters around. You popped open a bottle of Champagne and poured yourself a glass.

You had a bad feeling, but you pretended like you didn’t. You glanced at the clock. Keigo wouldn’t have given you false hope- no matter how optimistic he was. But eventually, the clock struck eleven, and you were two glasses of champagne and batches of cookies in, and there was no sign of him. 

You groaned when you finally heard the clock mark the hour, resting your forehead on the cold of the kitchen table. 

Why were you so miserable without him? You obviously could never know, but you were willing to bet money on the idea that Keigo was not nearly as shaken up about it when he was away. In fact, the more dangerous a task he was about to embark on, the happier he seemed to send you away. A familiar coil of bitterness rose up in you. After all this time, he didn’t trust you. He didn’t think you could hold your own, not next to him.

But maybe he’s right, You mused, munching miserably on your cookie. After all, he goes away and I spend all my time sick and moping and thinking about him. God, I really am useless.

Maybe you should get a cat. Keigo was never their biggest fan, and they didn’t do well around his wings, but you really wanted one for times like these. And if he was going to spend this much time away from now on, what did it matter?

You were idly scrubbing a dish when the clock went off at midnight. Screams erupted from every direction around you, the sound of illegal fireworks, the cheers of loved ones celebrating with one another.

Honestly, you thought you’d be more sad, and angry, and disappointed. But you weren’t. The hour passed and it was the next year and Keigo wasn’t there to celebrate- like he always was- even though he said he’d try to make it and it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as Christmas. There was no one to call, no one to text. You finished washing the dish and downed the last of your glass, before pouring yourself another.

You settled onto the couch. You weren’t ready for bed yet, not with the sounds outside. You scrolled through a million shows and movies before settling on one you’d seen a million times, like white noise. It was past one am, and you had finished up your millionth game of Sudoku when you heard someone at the door.

Fear rang through you, at first. You were alone, you were tipsy, and your hero brain whispered that nobody would hear your screams with the din of New Years around you. You jumped to your feet the best you could, setting aside your glass and phone at once, preparing to defend yourself when you heard keys turn the lock.

It was Keigo. Of course, of course, it was just Keigo.

All of the resentment, all of the bitterness, all of the anger you told yourself you’d take out on him softened at once when you caught sight of him. Not only because he looked more tired than you’d seen him in a long time- with uncharacteristic bags under his weary eyes, slumped shoulders, and wings noticeably smaller than usual- but just because…

Because it was Keigo. Because, miraculously, he looked like he needed you more than you needed him. 

“You’re awake.” He sounded surprised. He didn’t look it. Maybe he was too tired to even look surprised. He locked the door behind him, but didn’t move from across the room.

”I was-” You words caught around the lie. “I was waiting for you.” But he beamed, and you were glad you hadn’t told him the truth. Oh, Keigo. Always the optimist.

“I’m home now.”

“Yeah,” you walked to him, pace increasing with every step, until you were flinging yourself into his arms. Keigo, for his part, was more than ready. He caught you easily, and no more conversation was needed. When you kissed him, his face and nose and mouth were all cold, and he held you like a dying ember. The way you fell into each other reminded you of the moment you’d managed to catch him after the battle in Kamino, behind the alley, a moment you had been unable to stop yourself from replaying and replaying and replaying.

There was no thinking to be done while you were kissing, your mouths opened immediately for each other’s. You wrapped your legs and arms around him, indulging both of you in the kiss. He turned the two of you, pressing you flat against the wall. His kisses fell against your chin and neck, and then all at once-

“Keigo!” You gasped, which was the only thing saving it from being a scream as Keigo sucked at the skin on your neck hard. You squirmed, thrashed really, in his arms, trying to push him away, but it was fruitless. “What are you- Keigo, oh my God-” Your voice was just a whimper by the end as he barely even reacted to you. “W- wait, you can’t-”

The Commission had strict rules involving appearance. Some were obvious: no alterations may be made to the uniform without going through one of their designers, heroes must appear at the scene relatively kempt (unless coming from another battle), tears or rips must be mended by next appearance. But there were other, unwritten rules, pertaining to the professionalism of the costume. No hero could be caught drinking or smoking in their uniform. No hero should be seen doing non-heroic activities in their uniform. And, of course, famously, hickeys were not allowed to be showing while they were in uniform.

Everyone claimed to have a friend of a friend who had gotten in trouble for it, to the point that it was just something heroes knew to avoid while participating in… more illicit activities. But it had happened closer than that to the two of you. In fact, Keigo had once gotten in massive trouble when the Commission caught him with a hickey that you had given him. It was (mostly) an accident, and they hadn’t suspected where it actually came from, but he was put on night patrol with no breaks for the next couple of weeks.

You were extremely apologetic, but not enough to accompany him out all of those times.

Ever since then, you were both careful about it. After all, they really didn’t need the scrutiny that the Commission was trying to protect them from in a roundabout way. Not only would Hawks’s fangirls go ballistic if they thought he was actually seeing someone, but it would invite people to speculate on who. And nothing good would come of that. 

This was to say, it wouldn’t be good if either of you showed up to your job with a lovebite visible on your necks, and concealer could only last for so long in a job like yours. The two of you whined and bitched about it, but for the most part, you reserved your marking for things below the collar, even if the ‘claiming’ of it all was half the fun.

Until tonight, apparently. Keigo was still sucking and biting at your neck like a man starved. “Sorry- sorry,” It sounded genuine, he sounded almost hurt him, but he didn’t stop. “Need- Need something permanent- need it to last-”

And it did hurt. You weren’t prepared for the sharp heat of it- but it was good. It was so good, Keigo’s lips wrapped around such a sensitive part of you, making you feel a mind-numbing pain derived intimately from his own mouth, his face buried into your neck, while he was holding you close together. And he was marking you. He was marking you and everyone would know you belonged to someone and entirely irrationally, for a split second, you hoped they would know it was Keigo.

He growled and pressed open-mouthed, sloppy kisses to your neck, before licking a stripe up your throat and swirling his tongue over what must have been the forming bruise. your head was going fuzzy from the abuse of your neck. You barely recognized the usual care he treated you with, even in their most morally bankrupt moments of fornication. Instead, he bit down on another part of your neck and started the process again.

You threw your head back and gave in, moaning and bucking your hips against him. This only seemed to egg him on, as his kisses grew more frantic and messy, and a heavy sort of note joined his panting, like he was moaning with every breath. 

Your neck was starting to feel wet at this point, but you didn’t care. You could feel every move he made down to your pussy, and it was leaving no room for anything to go to your brain.

Several marks later, Keigo finally seemed to remember that there were possibly other ways that he could have you- though he didn’t give you any warning of this thought at all before he pulled you away from the wall and fell to his knees. This would have been alright, hot even, if you weren’t still attached to him. You yelped as they dropped, performing a clumsy combination of your arms flailing and still clinging to Keigo as he went down. 

But you didn’t collide with the floor, you were simply on his lap now, nails digging into his clothes and back. He took the second of your confusion to tear off his work jacket and reveal the compression shirt underneath. You dearly loved the eyeful of his lithe muscles you got through the tight fabric. You ran your hands over his chest and shoulders appreciatively.

”You know, you could have given me a heads up,” You meant to scold him, but it came out more as a sort of pout. But Keigo didn’t laugh like he usually would have, didn’t even smile. He sort of frowned distantly as you spoke, staring only at your lips. “Keigo?” You brushed a lock of flaxen hair behind his ear. “Are you oka-”

”No,” He shook his head, his voice thick with something you couldn’t name. He took an unsteady breath and shook his head, looking somewhere just past you. “N- no, I’m-” The glint in his eyes wasn’t right. You were contemplating it when he sprang back into action. He lunged, pinning you under him on the floor, but his arms had broken the worst of your fall. Still, you cried out in surprise, Your world suddenly in an entirely different orientation. Keigo licked and nibbled at your ear as he pulled off your- his- sweater roughly, the friction of it burning for a second. He tossed it aside carelessly before returning to his position right on top of you. His hands squeezed and groped at your chest painfully- and not in a good way.

Your head spun. What was going on? This was nothing like Keigo. Even when he was rough, it was usually only because you had asked for it, or confirmed it was what you wanted at least once. Every once in a while, you even had to egg him on. But this- this felt careless and crude, bouncing between the two extremes of him being too intense and not there with you at all. 

“Ow,” You hissed, but it was really more of a whisper. You were almost afraid to snap him out of the trance, even as he bruised you in places you weren’t accustomed to. “Ow-”

”Please,” He whined. His mouth was against your chest, he had begun to work his way down. He sounded… truly pitiful. “Please, I- I need- I can’t-” He sat back up and away from you, running a hand through his hair, only for half of the strands to fall back into place right after. You finally got a good look at him, closer now than across the room. He was frantic, searching. His eyes darted around your face wildly, but he didn’t seem to find what he was looking for. “Please.” He slumped down again on top of you like his strings had been cut, all at once, landing hard onto you.

“Are you on something?” You wondered aloud. “It’s- it’s fine if you are, but you should tell me, Kei-chan-”

”No, no.” He shook his head frantically. “No, I swear, I just-” He tugged at your pants. His eyes grew pleading, beseeching. “Please-”

This wasn’t how you pictured their reunion. But he was looking at you with those desperate eyes, and you could only ever be the personyou were. 

Keigo was hurting. You could help him. As always, you could do your service by helping him, by being at his side.

You didn’t speak. You just nodded. Keigo breathed out what could only be a sigh of relief and tore your pants off. You were wet, your moments of hesitation unable to strip that awaym  especially not when Keigo spread your legs and dipped his fingers into the place that you had wanted him for weeks. Thankfully, he didn’t finger you. You shuddered a bit to think of what his thick, rough fingers would have felt like inside you in this state. Instead, he pressed a kiss to your knee and then tapped you gently on the ass. ”Flip over.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice.you turned and assumed your position, ass in the air and face against your arms on the floor. There was a second where it was just ou, in the dark, your face warm with your breaths and the sound filling your ears. Maybe- maybe it would be easier this way, unable to see his face.

There was no preamble before Keigo slammed in.

”Oh my GOD!” You shrieked, nails digging into the hardwood floor in front of you and leaving gouge marks in their wake. “Oh my fucking God,” He took you with a speed and strength that truly belonged on a battle field. Every other stroke or so hit your cervix, entirely bottomed you out with that thick cock of his, a Russian roulette of pain that entirely cleared your mind. 

”Fuck,” He cursed. He gripped your hips brutally, but you didn’t even feel it over the flood of sensation below it. He pulled you back and forth against him like you were an to for him to use, something small and thoughtless he could move as he pleased. “Fuck, yes,” He hissed through his teeth sharply. “Holy fuck, you take it so good, look at you- taking my cock so fucking good.” He babbled.

”Please,” You choked out, eyes rolling back so faryou couldn’t see anything other than stars. “P- please,” A broken gasp wracked through your chest like a sob. In fact, you rather thought you were sobbing. Your fingers and hands jumped and convulsed, just trying to hold on, to regain any sort of footing as he fucked you into the floor. you didn’t even know what you were begging for. For him to stop? For more? For him to hold you, just hold you, so you could sit in the silence and look at the Christmas tree?

Your safeword danced on the tip of your tongue. You wished you could say that you hadn’t used it to be a good girlfriend, that you’d suffered through it all silently because it was clear he needed you, that you were kind and benevolent- but the truth was that you simply couldn’t even string enough of a thought together to control your tongue enough to say it.

”Please-” He panted, pleaded, “Baby, say my name-” His voice broke around the syllables. “I- I need to- pl- please, saymyname-”

“Kei- ei- go- oh-” Each sound was broken up by the bounce of you against his cock. You couldn’t speak properly even if you wanted to. You slurred his name, your tongue too heavy in your mouth, too confusing to move properly. “Kei- go!”

“Yes, yes, yes,” He whined, bending over your body. His chest pressed against your back. He was all over you, inside you, above you, all-encompassing. Each thrust sent your body back and forth against the floor, scraping against the skin of your face and arms. Your knees ached from holding yourself up on the hard surface. Your legs trembled, weak with the strength it took to even stay up. “So tight, so fucking tight-”

”Keigo- w- wait, please-“ You gasped out, but the words were unintelligible to even your ears, too breathy and muffled and confused, too pierced through with your moans. Instead, all Keigo heard was ‘please’. The next couple of thrusts were even harder.

Your mind and body couldn’t take it any longer, you tensed, trembled so much your limbs began to hurt, and came so hard you saw white. The scream you let out was guttural, and gave its way into sobs. Your whole body gave out, but unfortunately, Keigo’s grip didn’t relent, he hardly even noticed. “Pleasepleasepleaseplease-”. You keened pitifully. “Keigo-”

His grunts and noises had become animalistic. There were no more words or pleas from him. Instead, he moaned his own release, slamming into you with absolute abandon, finishing inside you by using his body’s weight to pin you all the way to the floor. You were squeezed between the two unrelenting surfaces, as Keigo came as deep as he could possibly go, gravity assisting him in his terrible mission.

Finally, finally, he was still.

He breathed heavily above you as you shook and trembled and just tried to do the monumental task of catching your breath or moving your limbs. Your hands shook so hard it looked like you had tremors when you tried to draw them back into yourself.

Every body part that you could think of ached in one way or another. You tested different parts of yourself, operating them like a puppet who had just gained control of their own body. It was a long while before Keigo let up, long enough that you had almost forgotten it was him on top of you. You lifted your own face from the floor. It was wet. You hadn’t even realized you were crying or drooling. Your hair stuck to your face with tears and sweat. you took a deep, shuddering breath.

Keigo pulled out. You felt his soft cock slip out of you and were astounded that the now-feeble part could have done what it just had. You remained on the floor, little will to move, no capacity to consider what he might think about it.

He laid his hand on your hip. ”Hey, do you wanna-” But you jumped. You hadn’t meant to. But it was a motion so sudden it startled him. He blinked. And it came to him. The scene, the house, his love- it all finally appeared in front of him. “Oh my God-” He breathed, expression stricken and horrified. “Oh my God, baby bird, I- oh my God-” You tried to push yourself off the ground, but your arms gave out underneath you, and it looked downright painful as  youfell. Keigo pulled you up at once and flipped you over, as gently, but quickly, as he could.

Keigo hoped, prayed, that it wasn’t as bad as he suddenly remembered it all was- 

When you turned, something in the back of your head warned you to school your expression into a more neutral mask, but it was too slow and quiet. But every bit of the shock and confusion you felt must have been evident on your face, because when Keigo turned you around, he shattered.

He dissolved into sobs, curling and melting onto you, into you. It only took a split second before you, too, were crying, until you were both wracked with it, holding each other. Clinging tighter than ever before.

There was nothing else to do.

*****

You woke first the next morning- and you woke in pain. The way your insides ached made you feel like maybe the phrase ‘rearrange their guts’ wasn’t as fun as it was before. You realized, when you went to the bathroom, that you had been bleeding. A wave of sickness. You put on a pad and walked carefully back to bed.

The noise of the bathroom alone had woken Keigo. He locked eyes with you as soon as you came out of the restroom. Your heart sank. You immediately tore your own away. You were really hoping he wouldn’t wake for a while. He sat up as you got into bed, back towards him. Neither of you said anything for a long moment. 

You gave in. You flipped over towards him, tossing an arm around his lap, your forehead against his hip. He rubbed a hand down your back, almost on instinct. You hated the way his hand jumped away once he realized what he was doing like nothing you’d ever experienced before.

You gave a gentle demand, ”C’mere.” He obliged at once, shifting down to rest next to you. You were careful not to make eye contact, even as he stared at your face, watching your expressions like- well, like a hawk. You adjusted until you were lying on his chest, arms curled around him. He was sleep-warmed. Comfy. Smelled familiar.

It was still Keigo. 

Just Keigo. 

Always Keigo. 

Only Keigo.

”I’m bleeding.” You said softly, shutting your eyes. You didn’t know why. You didn’t want to guilt him. You didn’t really even want him to know. But you felt like he needed to. Deserved to, even. You listened to the sharp breath he took.

”Fucking shit,” He breathed, and that was it for a moment. You pretended like you couldn’t hear him crying. He pretended like he couldn’t feel you do the same.

”Will you make me some tea?” You asked quietly, when you had both gone still and silent again. Keigo jumped up at once. He was just in his boxers, the ones he had pulled on last night when you had finally gone to bed in a daze.

”Yes. Yeah. Of course.” He nodded, looking grateful for something to do. He hurried off to the kitchen at once. You laid on in warm space he had left on the bed. You tucked yourself in and sniffed the pillow he’d been lying on deeply. It smelled like him- like the man you knew and loved. In the kitchen, pots and pans moved around, water ran, the stove clicked to life.

It wasn’t long before the smell of food filled your nose instead. It smelled like grilled fish and rice. After another couple of minutes, he walked in, holding your favorite mug.

”What kind?” You asked, pointing for him to set it down on the bedside drawer.

”Your favorite.” He didn’t even let you react before he hurried out, “ButIcanmakeyouadifferentone! I just- I thought that I- I guess I could have asked-” He winced at his own words, and you sighed.

”It’s fine, Keigo.” But your voice sounded tired, even to you, and his name rang cold. ”Thank you.” He hesitated. You buried yourself deeper under the covers. You just… didn’t want to hear it right now. Thankfully, whether he got the message or simply couldn’t decide what to say, he walked out of the room once more. After another ten minutes, you finally stood and came to the kitchen, wincing as you did so. He smiled when he caught sight of you, but the worried furrow in his eyebrows didn’t unknot.

”H- Hey, good morning. I made breakfast.” He gestured around at the spread. You eyed it over. “I- um- there’s fish and rice and miso soup and a rolled omelet- I made coffee, too, just in case- or we could- we could always order takeout or-”

”Hey.”you put your mug down on the table and walked towards him. His wings drew up, somewhere between fear and shame. He seemed to balance on a knife’s edge as you stood in front of him. You leaned forward and rested your forehead on his bare chest. “It’s okay.” You said softly, wrapping you arms around him and stroking at his back, between his wings.

Keigo nodded shakily, before finally hugging you back.

”I- I just- I didn’t feel like me when I came in last night,” He babbled against the top of your head, “And I’ve- I’ve felt really lost in the mission, all of my interactions are being watched, I could only step away last night because-” He took a breath. You felt the shudder in his body. He was tense, like he wanted to hold you tighter, but was too afraid to. “I wanted to come back and feel like me, I wanted- I-“ You hushed him. Keigo buried his face deeper into your hair. ”I’m…” Keigo started. You tensed. “I’m so-”

”Don’t.” You snapped.

You had an unspoken agreement- the two of you never apologized. You were almost proud of it, your ability to move on from mistakes and stupid things the other had said. You gave each other space any time you had an argument, and came back with level heads and open arms. This was the first real thing either of you had, they were both bound to make mistakes. You were happy you both knew that, and found something that worked for you guys, even if other people didn’t understand it.

Hearing him almost do so now made your throat tight and eyes burn.

”No, really, what happened last night-”

”Takami Keigo.” You wrenched yourself out of his grip, instead grabbing him by the arms, pinning them to his side. The cruelty in the sneer and look and touch and name shocked him like ice water. “It’s fine. I said yes. I could have used my safe word. I ask you to be rougher all the time. It-“ You cleared your throat. You removed your hands. “It is fine. I need you to drop it.”

Keigo stared, face to face with bared teeth and anger. “Okay.” His voice was just a whisper.

You stared for one last minute before letting go and turning away, back to your tea.you took a long, deep draught, before something caught your eye. He looked where your gaze fell. It was a mirror, in the hall. You touched your neck. “I forgot about those.” You hummed, looking thoughtful. Keigo couldn’t discern anything else from your expression, so he said nothing. 

He turned away and grabbed a couple of dishes and began to plate everything up for the two of you. Before you sat down, he grabbed a pillow from the couch and placed it under you without a word. For this, at least, you were grateful. 

You ate in silence for a while. It wasn’t exactly comfortable. He found it a little hard to look at you, now, close up. He wished he could have been pleased to see you all marked up, but instead, you just looked… bruised. Battered. The way you did after a battle didn’t go your way. There was an exhaustion in your eyes you couldn’t fake and you didn’t bother to hide.

“When are you leaving?” You asked, your voice carefully free of any inflection. He bit his cheek. Usually this question would be asked with the clear wish that it wouldn’t be for as long as possible. But today, he was unsure.

“I was-” Any strength in his voice broke. “I need to leave tonight.” He admitted. You were entirely still for a moment, but just a moment. You resumed eating, without even looking at him the whole time.

“Alright,” Was all you said, soft and small and sad. Your utensils clicked, but otherwise, it was silent.

*****

The first day of the New Year was difficult. For once, you found yourself glad that Keigo was leaving. No matter what you did, you couldn’t get rid of the silent stiffness that permeated all of your interactions. Perhaps the distance would do you good for once.

When night fell, Keigo had to leave. He stood by the door and you came to say your goodbyes. He held his arms out tentatively, and you fell in at once. He squeezed you tightly. You squeezed back.

”How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know.” He answered honestly. ”…Probably at least another three months.“ Your heart sank. You knew that, but to hear it was another can of worms. “But I will visit before then, I promise.”

”Okay,” Your voice was hollow with unshed tears. As he made to pull away, something desperate in you woke at once, and you held on tighter. “I- I miss you so much when you’re gone.” You rushed out, like he didn’t know that already. “This mission was so sudden, I went from seeing you all the time to not at all, and I don’t know what you’re doing or how dangerous it is, and I don’t even have anyone I can talk to about this because you’re who I talk to about things, please don’t leave me.” Your pathetic plea rang in the air for much longer than was comfortable.

He spoke, “I’ve been seeing you online again.” Picturing him seeing all the embarrassing headlines and memes and photos from your recent appearances made you groan. “You have no idea how proud I am of you, or how much I miss you, too. I’ll tell you all about it the second I can.” He pulled away a bit, cupping your cheek in his large, warm hand, lifting your chin to look at him. “I don’t- I don’t want to do this again, okay?” His gaze was loving, and sincere. You nodded, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks silently. “I don’t like it either, I promise.” He kissed your forehead. “Be brave, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded, but the lump in your throat and chest hadn’t gone away. He hugged you again, and you both rocked back and forth and back and forth.

”Hey,” He said seriously. “I love you.”

That was another thing you didn’t say. Or, at least, it was very rare. You really only said it when you didn’t have to actually… say it. You wrote it in notes in code or texts. Occasionally, during a very intimate moment, or if you weren’t sure you were going to see each other again.

You swallowed, wondering which one of these things was true now.

”I love you, too.” He wrapped his wings around you. Their hold was soft and strong, and you felt like you could breathe easier, even if your chest was tighter.

Finally, finally, you pulled away. ”I’ll see you soon.” He promised, and your lips met for one last kiss.

”See you soon.” You repeated throatily. You waved with a miserable little half-smile as he slipped out the door, taking his bright red wings, all the color, and your heart from your world.

When you went out the next day, you remembered Keigo’s present and groaned unhappily, having forgotten to remind him of it- but when you went to check it, you saw that he had taken it, and left something in its stead.

It was a tiny box, covered in shiny, red wrapping paper. You stepped right back inside your place and tore it open, finding a ring box inside the first. Inside was a silver band made of metal feathers widing their way into a ring. Your mouth fell open at that alone, only to realize that there was an extra slit in the box.you checked the larger box it had come in. Inside was two photos- one that must have been of the advertisement, with your ring and a thicker-banded version of it- and the other was one of Keigo.

In the photo, he was somewhere far in the sky during sunset, pink and purple and orange and lovely all around him. He was beaming, always so handsome, but glowing with the halo of the sun and his smile. His wings were a blur behind him, but in front of him, his gloveless hand was fanned out, showing off his own ring from the matching set.

You laughed through tears, sliding the ring onto your finger. It seemed he hadn’t forgotten about Christmas, after all.

[viperwhispered]

Fixation

Relationship: Jamil Viper/fem!Reader Contents: reader's not Yuu, smut, some dubious consent (though you're generally into it), aged-up characters, post-NRC, kinda dark!Jamil in that he has learned to get what he wants, just not necessarily in a good way Rating: Explicit Words: 4.7 k

Summary:

Suddenly, with perfect clarity, you realize how Jamil has set this whole thing up. How everything until now has been leading to this.

The thrill of that thought is what makes you drop all pretenses and yield to him.

Author's notes: Yes the fic I talked about ages ago is finally here! This started of as dub-/noncon pwp, but Jamil insisted on having some plot and buildup. Reader also ended up quite enthusiastic about the whole thing. So for the most part, I'd say the dubcon is pretty mild. You can also find this fic on AO3.

Sometimes it is hard to tell if being a financial advisor to Kalim Al-Asim is a great opportunity or simply a terrible headache.

You certainly have plenty to work with - literally, as Kalim is just as ridiculously wealthy as the rest of the family. Truly a chance of a lifetime to learn and prove yourself capable.

However, Kalim is also notoriously excitable and thus often ends up being rather fickle. He’s all too ready to abandon previously established plans whenever a new, “brilliant” idea occurs to him. Keeping him on track has turned out to be one of the most important skills you need in order to do your job right, and one that causes you the most headaches.

Thankfully Jamil is there to smooth out the rough patches – sure, it feels like he might be present more than necessary just to keep an eye on you, but Jamil is also genuinely helpful when you’re at the end of your rope trying to keep Kalim on track.

Kalim is nice, sure, and a very understanding boss with plenty of faith in your abilities. But there is something very comfortable about working with someone like Jamil, who you can trust to keep on top of things and think ahead, no matter what.

Of course Jamil is competent. In his position he has to be. But it isn’t just his skill, but the whole way he carries and presents himself, that suits your fancy. Calm, clever, level-headed… Really, you’ve lucked out, even with the caution and suspicion Jamil still occasionally shows you.

You also have to admit that Jamil being so attractive certainly works in his favor. You, however, are a professional. Jamil may be nice to look at, but you refuse to let such thoughts cloud your mind while you work together.

Still, every glimpse of Jamil’s person, of who he is outside his duties, feels like a small victory and makes you want to learn more.

Then, there is the incident.

Kalim has invited some prospective business partners for an evening party, and you are also there to make their acquaintance. Kalim’s parties are always full of extravaganza, even – or especially – when they’re for business purposes. Yet, you can’t quite fully relax and mingle while you have to maintain professional appearances. You’re here to form a partnership, after all, before you’re here to have fun.

Later in the evening you withdraw to the gardens for a moment of fresh air and quiet. You barely have the chance to relax a little and take a few deep breaths when you notice Jamil coming your way.

Seems you aren’t the only one looking for a moment of respite.

“Hi Jamil. Seems everything has been going fine so far. How have things been on your end?”

“Nothing unusual. Managing everything has kept me busy.”

“I bet. When Kalim talked about a small evening gathering, I certainly didn’t expect something this elaborate,” you say with a small laugh.

Jamil sighs.

“I am glad I could talk him out of the full parade, at least.”

It is a small change in Jamil’s demeanor when he seems to take note of something, yet you don’t miss the change in his posture or the momentary scowl.

“Is something the matter?” you ask.

Jamil doesn’t respond. Instead he walks around you and raises his voice.

“Can I help you?”

You turn to follow Jamil and see he’s addressing a pair of servants standing by a side door. They are wearing Asim livery, though even you can tell they’ve dressed sloppily.

Ah. Probably Jamil simply has some instructions to give to these two. Or a scolding for slacking off.

You only pay half a mind to Jamil asking the two what they’re up to. Besides, the night air is a little cold, perhaps you should head back inside…

“What did you do?!”

The sudden shout startles you. You see one of the servants brandish a magical gem, pointed right at Jamil, while the other is standing unnaturally still.

Jamil, in contrast, looks perfectly composed.

Like he has full confidence in being able to handle the situation with ease.

“Take your friend down,” Jamil commands.

To your surprise, the servant who was just standing there obeys with no hesitation, lunging towards his companion. 

You flinch and turn away, but that doesn't stop you from hearing the sounds of struggle.

The sounds that follow are not much easier to bear. The fight seems to end quickly, the servant that threatened Jamil pinned to the ground. Yet now he’s making desperate pleas for his companion to snap out of it, interspersed with heated accusations of betrayal.

"Make him look at me," Jamil orders.

Somehow, your eyes are drawn to Jamil. That confident posture, his arms crossed across his chest, that smirk on his lips… His eyes slightly narrowed, not in suspicion this time but in what you can only describe as smug satisfaction.

You only realize you’ve been staring when Jamil speaks again. Words of mastery and command that soon silence the struggling servant, leaving them just as compliant as their companion.

You’re no mage, but even you can recognize a spell being cast.

"There you are."

You can practically feel the satisfaction in Jamil's tone.

Suddenly, Jamil turns to you, palm raised in your direction. “You have your phone with you, do you not? Hand it over.”

You’re clearly out of your depth here, still unaware of just what is going on. Yet, you see no reason not to do as Jamil asks, so you take your phone out and hand it to him. 

While prying open the back of your phone, Jamil addresses the pair.

"You’re not doing this alone, are you? You will incapacitate any other helpers or coconspirators you have within the estate. Be as subtle as you can, but do not shy from using force if necessary. Your first priority is to protect the guests in the hall, even at the cost of your own lives if necessary.”

Jamil takes out a small piece of what looks like plastic out from the back of your phone and hands it to one of the apparent intruders.

“You will keep this on your person at all times. Understood?”

“Yes, master.”

“Do you know what you need to do?”

“We need to subdue our accomplices, by any means necessary.”

“Good. Go on, then.”

You’re slack-jawed as you stare after the pair as they depart. Meanwhile, Jamil pulls out his own phone and calls security, informs them of intruders at the compound and that one of said intruders is now carrying a GPS tracker.

"We should get back before we are missed,” Jamil says.

He takes another look at you and raises an eyebrow.

“Do not be concerned. What threat they might have posed has been dealt with,” Jamil soothes you.

You can’t say you feel particularly soothed.

“What… what just happened?” you ask.

“Just a few fools who thought they could do as they please. While the situation is under control, you should not wander around lonesome. Come, let’s head back in.”

You allow Jamil to lead you back inside while your mind is racing a mile a minute.

You had a GPS tracker inside your phone?

Did you really just watch Jamil compel an intruder to turn on their companion, just like that?

You should be more bothered by the idea of intruders making it to the grounds. You should be bothered by what Jamil had them do.

Instead, your mind fixates on Jamil, on that calm, confident air of superiority. The easy mastery he had over the situation.

You knew Jamil to be level-headed and able to handle most situations with ease. But you’ve never before seen him quite like this.

Ruthless. Cunning.

The guests apparently never even found out about the attempted attack. As for you, you can’t take your mind off it.

Yet perhaps the most concerning thing is how much you seemed to like seeing him like this.

- - - - - - -

Better said, you can’t take your mind off the Jamil you saw that night.

How is this side of Jamil so attractive? Attractive enough that your fascination with him soon goes far beyond professional interest.

It is easy enough for you to get Kalim to talk about his retainer, praise easily falling from Kalim’s lips. Stories of their time together at Night Raven College, childhood reminiscences, the latest things Jamil has excelled in.

Yet Kalim hardly talks about the sides of Jamil that interest you the most.

You aren’t snooping – definitely not – yet now that you’re looking for it, you begin to see signs of things going Jamil’s way. Slight nudges in different affairs, careful suggestions or supposed slips of the tongue that seem innocuous on the surface. Sometimes, these things benefit Kalim, sometimes them both. 

Yet, often enough, the benefit seems to be solely to Jamil. More and more power, gathering at his fingertips.

Ruthless. Cunning. Ambitious.

It shouldn’t make you so hot and bothered, shouldn’t fuel all kinds of indecent fantasies. Yet you can’t help your thoughts revolving around one Jamil Viper and all those secrets he holds so very close to his chest.

When Jamil pulls you aside one day, you barely manage to maintain your mask of professionalism. By now, you’re so far gone that you find it difficult not getting distracted just being in his presence.

If he were to direct all that drive towards you… Just the thought is enough to make you heated.

- - - - - - -

"What game are you playing?" Jamil asks you as soon as you are alone.

You realize his expression is eerily similar to the one he wore when that intruder appeared.

That is the only thing your mind seems to grasp, as the rest of you is simply confused by this sudden question.

Jamil sighs, looking very much like he’s disappointed.

"You're clearly keeping an eye on me, and trying to get information out of Kalim. What for?"

Oh.

"Surely you know by now," you say, unable to look Jamil in the eye. You’ve done your best not to be too forward, not wanting to cross any boundaries. Still, it seems your interest in him could hardly go unnoticed, not by someone as sharp – and careful – as Jamil.

Oh.

"Just tell me what you’re planning. Is it a higher position you're after? Are you hoping to find some blackmail, perhaps?" Jamil says, his expression cold.

Oh no.

You merely stare at Jamil for a moment, your mouth suddenly dry. Is that really what he thinks of you? That you have some sort of a plan that you’re concocting?

"Jamil." 

You lick your lips, hoping to will some moisture into your mouth. How in the world are you to find the right words here, without digging yourself into an even deeper hole? 

“I was just curious, is all. I did not mean to intrude.”

“Curious? Do you expect me to believe that?” Jamil certainly doesn’t look like he does.

“I'm just… intrigued, and impressed, by you. By what you do. I guess seeing you so easily deal with the intruders made me want to know more about you.”

Does that sound weird? You hope it doesn’t sound weird.

"Is that so?" Jamil asks, an eyebrow raised in question. You think – you hope – he’s lowered his guard, at least a little.

“Yes. Just, you know, wanted to know more about who I’m working with. That’s all.”

You force your hands to stay still, as much as they’re itching to fidget.

"I… I apologize if I've overstepped and made you feel uncomfortable." You are going to be an adult about this, but by the sands do you wish you weren't having this conversation right now. Clearly you have not given the correct impression. At all. But unfortunately you have no idea how to salvage this mess.

You can only hope your cheeks aren’t too red. This situation is embarrassing enough as is without you also looking like a fool.

Jamil remains quiet. If he was carefully watching you earlier, now it feels like he is trying to see your very soul.

“If you truly are simply curious, would it not be better to ask directly from the person you want to know about?” Jamil eventually says.

So, Jamil, do you often like to flex your confidence and skills in such an attractive manner?

Yeah, that would go over so well.

“Yeah… Probably. I’ll keep that in mind for the future. Really sorry to give you cause for concern.”

This whole exchange really is just humiliating.

"Well, if you don't mind, I'd better get back to work." You hope your smile isn't too strained.

Perhaps it is just your imagination, but you think you can feel Jamil’s eyes bore into your back while you walk away, trying to maintain some semblance of looking natural and not utterly frazzled and mortified.

Oh goodness. How are you to get over this one? Sure, Jamil is a cautious man, but for him to outright question you like this… Clearly, you need to get a grip on yourself, stat.

After that confrontation, you keep your distance from Jamil. You interact with him only in professional matters – cordially, but no more than you have to.

Well, that is what you try to do. Because you find yourself increasingly in situations where it is just you and Jamil, working on something or other together.

You can only assume he's doing this to keep a very careful eye on you. Which means that all you can do is to keep to your best behavior.

Sometimes it feels like Jamil is testing you – turning up to your office silently and unannounced, or asking you sudden questions while you’re working together. Always, his eyes are on you, like he’s weighing your every move and word.

Sometimes you wonder if Kalim is using all his business dealings simply as excuses to host parties and travel.

When you thought about having his full attention on you, this was not quite what you had in mind.

- - - - - - -

On this particular occasion Kalim decided to make a trip out of it, so now you are in a foreign land, enjoying most lavish treatment as your hosts are doing everything in their power to butter up the Asim heir and his whole entourage.

You’re not even sure why you’re here, since usually you’re not involved at this stage of negotiations. But since Kalim asked you to join, promising you a chance to visit a new country in luxury, you couldn't possibly refuse.

Still, you’re grateful that your personal rooms are tucked away from the rest. With all the socializing you have to do, you appreciate this chance for peace and quiet.

You wonder how Jamil does it. He’s so much more intricately involved with Kalim’s life than you are, and being involved with Kalim means being involved with all his parties and trips and family and friends. You can only imagine how draining that must be.

You’ve only just had the chance to get to your room. The bed looks very soft and inviting, yet you do your best to resist its lure. You’ll want to get ready for tonight’s program, after all.

You just about get started with washing up when there's a steady knock on your door. For a moment, you consider simply ignoring it – perhaps it’s just a member of the household staff, and they’ll leave you alone if you don’t respond.

The next moment your work phone rings.

Groaning, you dry yourself quickly and throw on a bathrobe – if you had the time, you’d love to revel in the softness of it.

Surprisingly enough, your phone is still ringing by the time you get to it.

“Hi Jamil. What is it?”

“Is there a reason you’re not opening your door?”

I’m not exactly dressed is what you think of saying.

“I was just about to freshen up a bit. Is it urgent?”

“We haven’t yet checked if your room is as it should.”

Ah, yes. The bug check.

While Jamil always takes extra care to make sure Kalim’s quarters are safe from any harmful spells or technomancy, the rest of Kalim’s entourage gets their checks, too. After all, you have access to valuable information – and people – which could be of interest to listening ears or malicious actors.

Considering the particularly watchful eye Jamil has kept on you ever since you roused his suspicions, you suppose you shouldn’t be surprised he’s doing the check personally.

You think of the time Jamil disposed of those intruders. Maybe the dangers that come from associating with someone as important as Kalim Al-Asim are actually the worst part of your job, and dealing with Kalim’s antics is a breath of fresh air in comparison.

“Alright. I’ll let you in.”

While you would prefer to look more put together in front of Jamil, you can’t justify delaying him, either. As usual, he probably has his whole day planned to the last minute, after all.

Besides, you just need to stay off to the side while Jamil does his thing, it’s not like he’ll be paying much attention to you anyway.

You hope.

You pull back your wet hair, checking yourself in the mirror quickly - just to make sure you’re not accidentally indecent, you tell yourself - and let Jamil in.

Jamil simply gives you a nod and you scurry off to the side, letting him pull out his spy bug detector and cast a few spells.

“You’re avoiding me,” Jamil suddenly says.

Sometimes, you really wish he’d drop this straightforward manner he’s adopted with you. One of these days he’s going to give you an actual heart attack.

“I’m just trying to stay out of your way.”

Jamil turns to you with a roll of his eyes.

“I mean, you have been trying to avoid me. For a while.”

You consider protesting, but with the way Jamil’s looking at you, it feels like a futile effort.

It’s not like he’s wrong, after all.

“It seemed I had overstepped. I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.” You say, your words a little feeble even to your own ears.

“Is that your excuse?”

Jamil steps closer, and you find yourself taking a step backwards.

“Is it really my comfort you are so concerned about?” he questions. There is something bold about the way he looks at you, and you find your heart racing under his piercing gaze.

The bathrobe suddenly feels like far too little coverage to your liking. Far too unprofessional. Much too vulnerable.

“If I’m supposed to believe that you were simply being curious… I’m sure you’d be willing to prove it.” There’s something menacing about Jamil’s tone, yet also something thrilling that makes your stomach twist into knots.

You don’t even realize how much you’ve been backing up until your heel hits the wall. There’s a triumphant smirk on Jamil’s features when he steps firmly into your personal space and places one of his hands on your waist.

"Tell me," Jamil practically whispers. His breath tickles your ear, making you shiver. "Just how difficult are you going to make this for me?"

With just a slight move of his head Jamil’s lips make contact with your skin. A small noise escapes your throat - whether it’s more startled or excited, you’re not sure.

You hear Jamil’s low chuckle, and suddenly, with perfect clarity, you realize how he has set this whole thing up. How everything until now has been leading to this. How thoroughly cornered you are, and not just physically.

The thrill of that thought is what makes you drop all pretenses and yield to him.

Jamil leans even closer, drags his tongue across your neck, and you tense and melt at the same time, your mind clouded.

You can hardly do anything when his touch and lips and warmth and closeness overwhelm you.

Really, how could you possibly think in a situation such as this? How could you think when you can barely even breathe?

Suddenly Jamil presses you against the wall with his body, the movement so sudden it pushes the air out of your lungs.

You’re thoroughly caged, trapped between Jamil’s warmth and the cold wall behind you, yet there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Well, perhaps the bed does tempt you a little, but only if you can have Jamil there with you.

Jamil’s lips find yours, your bodies melding together. There’s something almost hungry about the way he kisses and holds you – if such a restrained man as himself could display such an emotion.

You certainly are ravenous for him. Your lips eagerly meet his, your hands desperately seek to feel more of him. You manage to slip under his layers, feeling the warm skin underneath, and you can feel Jamil twitch under your touch.

Jamil pulls away a little, only to undo the knot holding your bathrobe closed. He pushes the garment aside, sliding it partway down your shoulders. For a moment he pauses, looking you up and down.

The way he looks at you… Oh, you can hardly believe it.

His fingertips trail up your sides in an almost distracted manner, like all his focus is on just eating you up with his eyes. Meanwhile, the way the bathrobe hanging off your arms makes it difficult for you to continue exploring him, especially since Jamil seems to have no intention of giving you the space to fully shrug the garment off.

"So… Either you were telling me the truth about simply being interested. Or this is just another thing you're willing to do to get what you want,” Jamil says, a hint of amusement in his tone.

“I see you won’t be making this difficult at all,” he murmurs, his tone strangely breathless.

“Why would I?” you respond.

Oh, you certainly won’t. Not when your excitement is drowning out any other thoughts in your mind. Just the sensation of Jamil’s hands on your body, feeling you up… Oh, you really do want so much more.

Before you know it, his hands are on your breasts. It’s not gentle, the way he palms you, yet you find you are more than okay with that.

You’re not quite sure which is heating you up more: Jamil’s hands or that intense look in his eyes. It’s like not even the smallest detail could escape his notice right now

You open your mouth to speak, yet your unspoken words turn into a strangled noise when Jamil tugs on one of your nipples. He simply raises an eyebrow and brings a finger to your lips to signal you to be silent. He plays with the peak with his finger and a few quiet whimpers bubble up in the back of your throat. You bite your lip to keep quiet, your back arching into the touch.

.Jamil leans close again, his breath hot on your neck.

“No one has a reason to pass by here, but do try to control yourself and keep quiet.”

Jamil’s hands remain on your chest while his lips return to your neck – whether he simply enjoys that spot, or the reactions he can pull out of you, you’re not sure. He sucks on the skin, and another undignified yelp forces its way halfway out your mouth.

You start tugging on Jamil’s clothes, wanting to see as much of you as he has seen of you. Jamil, however, quickly stops you.

“We do not have that much time in our hands.”

Your protests do not move him, only earning you another stern look.

One of Jamil’s hands trails down your body, and you draw in a quick breath when you realize where it’s headed. Across your ribs, down your stomach, following the line of your hips…

Jamil cups your mound with his palm, like it’s just another part of your body for him to touch as he wishes. Soon, a finger slips between your pussy lips, simply exploring you. 

You actually gasp when that finger brushes your clit, a jolt going through you.

“Just look at you… So eager for me,” Jamil murmurs.

Why is it so hot when he looks at you like that? Like he’s got you just where he wants you. Like he’s so satisfied with what he’s done – and what he’s about to do.

“You’re not fair. I can’t even see you properly, while here I am, all… exposed,” you complain.

“So?”

Jamil simply brushes off any further complaints you make. Instead he continues touching and teasing you, like he intends to thoroughly familiarize himself with the feel of your body and the reactions he can pull out of you.

For someone who’s saying you’re on limited time, he certainly seems to take full advantage of enjoying you.

“Jamil…” you breathe out, wondering how to word your growing need. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted something – or someone – inside you as much as you do at this moment.

“Impatient? Get on the bed, then.”

Why is his smug look so damn attractive?

You’re far too horny to question the effect further. Instead, when Jamil steps back to give you room, you immediately take advantage of it. You finally shrug the bathrobe off all the way and wrap your arms around Jamil, kissing him deeply.

Jamil’s tone is a little shaky when he speaks.

“Bed. On your hands and knees.”

Your mind is far too clouded by lust and anticipation for you to even consider disagreeing. So you do as he asks and look at Jamil over your shoulder.

Jamil undoes his clothes just enough to free his hard cock. You get to take only one greedy look at it before Jamil grips your hips and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. He takes the chance to grope your ass and feel you up.

Then he lines himself up, dragging his cock along your folds a few times before pushing inside. Your hands grip the sheets, the long-awaited stretch pleasant yet intense.

You barely register Jamil’s hiss, too occupied by the feeling of him settling in inside you.

Then he pulls back, pushes back in, and you have to stifle a yelp.

It takes a little adjusting until Jamil can drive into you like he wants to. His hands have a firm hold on your hips, leaving you to just take what he has to give.

Or for him to take what he wants from you.

Each push is a delicious stretch, each bottoming out fills you with sharp pleasure.

“Mmm, s’good,” you mumble, torn between trying to keep quiet and wanting to give voice to the pleasure building inside you.

Jamil lets out a low chuckle.

“Aren’t you something,” he says, his tone somewhere between taunting and satisfied.

Jamil shifts a little, picks up the pace as his breathing becomes heavier. He’s pulling you so close to him, driving in hard enough that you wish to cry out with every thrust. It’s so good, yet so intense, and you can’t help trying to pull away.

"Ahhh, Jamil, it's too much, I can't-"

His hands only grip your hips tighter, ensuring you won’t be going anywhere.

You can’t bite back your noises anymore, a cry escaping your lips with every thrust. You bury your face into a pillow in an attempt to stifle the high-pitched yelps.

Your fists close around your sheets, your body trembling from the shocks of intense pleasure coursing through you – not to mention how every snap of Jamil’s hips makes your body jolt forwards, your breasts swaying with the movements.

Suddenly Jamil’s hips stutter, his low groan going straight to your core. With a few shallow thrusts Jamil empties himself inside you. 

You fall slack, breathless, Jamil’s hands on your hips the only thing holding you up.

“Even better than I hoped,” Jamil murmurs, his tone unusually mellow.

You remain like that for just a moment, before Jamil pulls out of you.

"Look at me."

You exhale, slowly, then turn around just enough for your eyes to meet Jamil’s. There’s something hypnotic about those grey eyes…

The next thing you know, you're alone in the room. A hazy thought lingers at the back of your sated mind, something you can't quite catch.

It's no matter. Glancing at the clock you realize you have just about enough time to get yourself ready for the evening.

How long it is going to take before you can look at Jamil with a straight face is another matter altogether.

Author's notes: And there we go! Took so much longer than I anticipated for various reasons, but finally it's here. So glad to have this done and published. I've worked on this so long I have no idea what's good and what's not anymore, so I'd love to hear your (constructive) feedback! It sure has been a while since I wrote fic (& smut) last, and perhaps jumping into a new fandom and new character with an imagined future version wasn't the easiest way to go about it. But that's how it goes sometimes. Tagging @yuuyuu-yuuyuu, @diodellet and @anxiously-sidequesting as requested

[gogolucky13]

Heat of the Moment

Summary: The sheriff has had his eye on you ever since you started working as the new secretary at the station, and when you go into an unexpected heat, the sheriff is there to help you out.

Pairing: alpha!Lee Bodecker x omega!f!Reader

Word count: 2,517

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics (knotting and marking)/terminology. Smut (fingering, vaginal penetration). Mild swearing. Breeding kink. Slight possessive behavior. Maybe some fluff? A soft-ish Lee? (18+ only please).

Requested by: @saiyanprincessswanie

A/N: This is for my follower celebration. My first time writing A/b/o so I’m sorry if it sucks or doesn’t make sense—I tried! I hope you like this, Missy!! Thank you for the request. 🤗 Happy reading! 💜

Cinnamon. That’s what it smells like. Cinnamon with a hint of warm vanilla frosting. The scent consumes the entire station and the sheriff himself. Ever since you—the new, unmarked omega in town—began working at the station, Lee hasn’t been able to escape the spicy sweet smell. He both loves and hates it.

And when he arrives to work for another day, stepping over the threshold of the front door, the alpha is met yet again with your scent, always paired with that sugary smile he likes to think you reserve only for him.

“Mornin’, Sheriff,” you greet, holding out a small stack of mail.

Lee walks up to your desk, gingerly taking the papers from you. “Darlin’,” he drawls with a smile and a tip of his wide brimmed uniform hat.

Before he can even stop himself, his gaze is dropping to the small peek of cleavage your sundress provides, and he lets his eyes linger a little bit longer than necessary. As if the constant smell of cinnamon rolls wasn’t enough to make him go crazy, Lee also liked to torture himself by stealing subtle—and not so subtle—glances of you. His mind always running wild with images of you that were lewd enough to make him grateful he doesn’t spend his Sundays at church confessing his sins, because he’d be there all damn day.

When his eyes meet yours again, there’s a knowing glint in the color of your eyes. A shy smile curving the corners of your red stained lips, and he briefly wonders if you can read minds. With a quick swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip and another tip of his hat, Lee is bidding you a good day before stepping into his office. Inside, he has a clear view of your desk from where he sits behind his. Prior to your arrival at the station, Lee kept his blinds closed—never wanting to be disturbed for trivial matters. But now, his blinds always remain open as he incessantly watches you through the slits of his office window.

The morning carries on with little interruption; that is, until there’s a soft knock on Lee’s office door. It opens before he can grant permission to enter. A snarl begins to form on the alpha’s lips, ready to snap at whoever dares to enter without consent, but it quickly dies when your face appears, that same saccharine smile stretched wide across it.

“Hey there, Sheriff,” you say in a sing-songy tone.

“Darlin’,” Lee replies, and he can’t stop his own smile from forming. “What can I do for ya?”

“I got a call from a…”—your voice trails as you briefly glance to the intake form in your hand—“Mr. Reynolds?”

Lifting your gaze back to Lee, he waits patiently for you to continue.

“He’s askin’ for you to come take a look at his fields; thinks there might be some teenagers messin’ around in them again.”

Lee presses his lips into a thin line. Old Man Reynolds calls the station at least once a week about his damn cornfields. After several visits to the old timer’s farm, Lee finally resolved the man just gets so drunk he wanders out into the fields himself, forgetting he did so by morning. Normally, he would have one of the rookie deputies respond to the call, or just ignore it altogether. However, he wants to show off a little, make you see how important he is, even if it is for a bullshit call.

“Alright, thank you,” Lee replies, taking the form from you and turning his attention back to the paperwork on his desk.

He’s waiting for the click of the door, but it doesn’t come. Peering up, he finds you still lingering in his office, a gentle bite to your bottom lip. “Is there something else, darlin’?” He questions, an amused quirk to his brow.

“I’m just wonderin’ why you always sit in the dark,” you respond, gazing around the dimly lit space. “You should open these blinds up a bit, Sheriff.”

Steel blue eyes intently watch as you stride over to the two large windows in his office, the strong scent of cinnamon trailing in your wake. Lee sniffs a few times, attempting to rid the smell from his nostrils in an attempt to not show how affected he is by it. Then, the room is suddenly illuminated with blinding beams of sunlight, causing Lee to briefly squint his eyes to adjust to the change in brightness.

You stand triumphantly by the windows, hands on your hips with a proud smile on your face. The sight warms the alpha’s heart more than the rays of the sun.

“You’re right, I suppose that is better.”

As you make your way back over to his office door, Lee stands to gather his jacket and hat. The keys hanging from his belt jingling as he walks over to you still in the doorway.

“Say, this call should only take about thirty minutes or so,” he begins, his eyes again shamelessly sweeping over your alluring form before he continues. “Could I interest you in a sandwich from the deli down the street for lunch?”

With a shy smile, you reply, “Sure, Sheriff, that’d be lovely.”

Although Lee enjoys the sound of his title falling from your pretty lips, he’d much prefer to hear his name in the delicious tone of your voice. So, he takes a step towards you, leaning over to speak directly into your ear.

“You can call me Lee when it’s just the two of us.”

He can feel the rise in heat of your body, the tantalizing scent of cinnamon and vanilla swirling around him, and he does everything in his power to suppress a groan, closing his eyes for a brief moment. When he takes a step back, he shoots you a playful wink, then escorts you back to your desk as he leaves the station.

By early evening, the hustle and bustle of the station has died down. Lee sits in his office, finishing up some reports—including another one for Old Man Reynolds—and occasionally glancing up to look out into the rest of the station, his gaze always landing on you. Still behind your desk, Lee fondly watches as you file some forms and prep some tickets to be mailed.

Ever since your first day, you’ve remained at the station until dark with Lee. When it happened the first time, Lee assured you it wasn’t necessary to stay so late, but over the past few weeks it’s become somewhat of a routine. The sun sets, everyone leaves, and you and Lee close up together before going your separate ways.

Although Lee told you it wasn’t necessary—because it wasn’t—he can’t deny he enjoys the quiet time with you. And if he lets himself think too much about it, he convinces himself that maybe you stay so you can leave with him.

Lee’s attention is drawn back to the papers before him, until it’s stolen by the sound of your sweet giggle. Snapping his eyes up in your direction, the pleasant stuttering in his heart is quickly replaced by a pounding rush of anger. There, sitting on the edge of your desk, drawing out the pretty tunes of your laughter, is one of the young deputy alphas. The scene causes your sugary scent of cinnamon to turn bitter in Lee’s nostrils; the smell no longer one he craves as it turns his stomach and makes him sick. Sick because you aren’t his.

Continuing to watch you and the deputy alpha, Lee feels his pulse quickening, sure his own scent is emanating from his office and into the rest of the station. Then, he notices a shift in your demeanor; a frown coming over your face as you glance in Lee’s direction. The look subsides his anger for only a moment. He can barely make out the words on your lips, telling the deputy it’s getting late and you’re going to head home for the night. From his office, Lee can hear the deputy offer to walk you to your car, but you politely decline, your gaze once again falling to the sheriff.

Readjusting his position, Lee tries to make like he hasn’t been intently watching you for the past five minutes when he sees you heading for his office once the deputy has gone.

“Hey, Sher—” you begin, your voice falling short when you approach the doorway of Lee’s office. Clearing your throat, you try again, leaning onto the frame of the door as if being so close to the alpha is causing you some sort of weakness. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna go, I think.”

Lee can see the rapid rise and fall of your chest, a slight sheen of sweat beginning to build on the exposed skin where your dress doesn’t cover it. Any other night he’d be upset to hear you’re leaving without him, but then he gets a whiff of it.

The sweet, sweet scent of your slick hitting him like a ton of bricks and causing his mouth to water in want.

The alpha quickly realizes what’s happening and he swiftly stands from his chair to meet you by the door.

“Darlin’,” he begins, almost in a slightly warning tone as he feels his body start to react to yours. “Darlin’, we gotta get you home.”

Your eyes fall closed as you blink heavily, slightly nodding your head in apparent understanding. Lee is worried if you stay much longer, your pheromones will attract other alphas, and he is not in the fighting mood right now.

“Let me drive you home.”

He places a hand on the small of your back in an attempt to guide your from the station, but you step away.

“No!” You exclaim with wide eyes. “No, I…I want you alpha…I need you.”

With his hands suspended in mid-air, Lee can barely move as you come back to him, nuzzling your face on his shoulder and into the crook of his neck.

“I could smell you,” you sigh, taking a deep breath in. “It’s like warm leather…and, and firewood.”

Lee can feel you hum contentedly against the skin of his neck, and it sends a pleasant shiver down his spine. At the feel of your body against his, under his hands, Lee loses all control.

In an instant, Lee turns to pin you firmly against the wooden door of his office. His lips meet yours in a fiery kiss, the faint taste of cinnamon burning his tongue when it delves into your mouth for more. You’re squirming against him, clawing at his sheriff’s uniform, and it only fires him up more at how much of a whiny, desperate little omega you are.

“You want my knot, omega?” Lee growls into your hair.

“Yes,” you pant, “yes, please.”

With a firm grip on your waist, Lee guides you to his desk. He kisses you hungrily before spinning you around, pushing his throbbing erection against your backside and pressing you into the edge of his desk. From behind, Lee reaches his hands over your shoulders. He snakes them under the top of your dress and kneads the tender flesh of your breasts as he gently nibbles on your earlobe.

Lee has dreamed of this moment since he first laid eyes on you. The soft, timid omega stepping into his life and turning his world upside down. He had no doubt you’d be his eventually.

Eager to be inside you, Lee slides his hands downwards, gathering your dress into his fists and exposing your legs. His fingertips are already tingling before he even gets a feel of your slick. Swiping two thick fingers through your folds, Lee can’t help put push himself further against you, his cock twitching in his pants.

“Christ, omega,” Lee breathes. “Gonna make you mine.”

The words pull a whimper from your swollen lips, and it’s all Lee needs to hear before he’s clumsily undoing his belt and shimmying his pants down enough to release his aching cock.

“Bend over,” he demands, giving your back a gentle push.

You obey, and the sight of you bent over his desk—exposed and wanting—is enough to have Lee’s knees buckling just a little.

Lee lines himself up at your entrance, already able to feel the pulsing of your walls before he even enters you fully. A low rumbling groan vibrates deep in his chest as he pushes inside of you, your spongy walls gripping him from an inch of his life. Although you are not his first omega—he’s spent more than a few nights over in Tecumseh with the omegas working the back rooms of Leroy’s bar—you are definitely going to be his last omega. He’s a perfect fit inside you, and the way his cock has you writhing and crying out below him, he doesn’t think he could ever want anyone else.

The sound of rustling papers and a stapler clattering to the floor below mixes with breathy mewls and hungry growls as Lee continues to drive into you. He watches as you grip the edge of his desk, his own hands digging into the skin of your flesh. He’s close, and when he feels you begin to clench around him, he’s desperate to complete his claim on you.

“Come,” Lee commands, leaning over your body and reaching around to toy with your clit.

It only takes a few more thrusts of his hips before your legs are shaking and your walls practically hold him in place with how hard they’re fluttering around him.

“Yes, alpha!” You cry out in pleasure, your head falling weakly to the desk below you.

“Gonna fill you up, omega,” Lee pants, chasing his own release. “Gonna have you…full of my pups.” Each word is punctuated with a snap of his hips and he feels the familiar tingle of ecstasy begin to rise within him. But it’s not until the image of you—glowing ethereally and round with his pups—brings Lee to his intense climax.

And as he falls over the edge, his primal instinct to claim you, to make you his, takes over. “Mine,” he growls just before he bites down on your neck, marking you as his forever. The knot at the base of his member swells, filling you up and locking you in place below him. He can feel his cock pulsing wildly as he releases inside you, your weeping cunt taking everything he has to offer.

Slowly, Lee comes down from his euphoric high, sensing your body beginning to relax under him. He nuzzles his nose against your fresh bite mark before bringing it to your hair, taking a deep breath of your spicy sweet scent.

“My good, little omega,” Lee praises, sighing as he relishes in the feel of his cock still nestled tightly inside you. He kisses your shoulder, gently pulling himself out in the process, before speaking lowly in your ear, “You’re coming home with me.”

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt. 33)

(Sneak Peak) (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Tae's first love will always be poetry, you and Jiminie feel lucky to be the second.

Pairings: Omega! Reader, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Hoseok, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Jimin, Beta! Yoongi,

Tags:  consumption of alchohol, drunk kisses, Jimin is sober but gets handsy with the m/c, drunk sexual content, Don't like don't read, 

W/c: 9.4k

A/n: Although i don't think that what happens in the chapter is in any way un consensual- it definitely toes a line in what is considered modern consent theory. i don't subscribe to the notion that one sip of alcohol takes away a persons agency- and the m/c is still very much verbally consenting to Jimin even though she has had a drinkand he hasn't. She's tipsy at best through the entirety of the chapter. and jimin is scent high so! 

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

Chapter 33: Espresso Martini

One moment you’re sitting on one side of the booth alone and the next, Jimin is pushing himself over to your side. It puts his back to the door unfortunately but fuck it you’re more important than any imagined threat that may or may not walk through that door. Jimin's paranoia has always served him well- but maybe just this once he can let it go without catastrophic consequences.

Maybe. 

Jimin’s hands on your thighs are firm as he hoists you into his lap easily. You let out a little oof but even though you blush and look around but no one is watching the alpha quite literally manhandle you close to him. 

Then again, you aren't the only omega in the room sitting on someone's lap. 

Jimin is not good with words when he's not talking to Tae, maybe that just means he's not good at words period. Jimin speaks with his body, says please stay and I'm sorry for more than you know, more than we can say here.

If I could, I'd go back and change everything. make sure that I never treated you so coldly at the beginning, that none of us did. Jimin feels more guilt than is necessary over the pack's initial treatment of you, but who could have known that you'd end up meaning so much to them? That as your words grew, so would their love. 

Jimin speaks with his body sometimes, and now, he’s holding you like just your words were enough to get him into a frenzied. His voice is low in your ear as he holds you so gently like just having you in his hands will damage you. Breaking things can often feel like fixing them, and Jimin hopes that tonight is only the start of more.

"Sorry! sorry, I just-"

And yet-

He pulls back, just a hair, just enough to look into your eyes. You shift across his lap, the button of his pants digging into your outer thigh. His fingers hook into the pleats of your skirt and he grimaces, blushing at how he just literally picked you up and got you close. 

“I can get a little intense sometimes. I don’t want to freak you out but I feel like I don’t have good control of my instincts around you.” he admits.  

Have I ever? Is this ever going to get easier?

Jimin’s shirt is a bit tight and it shows off his arms, you can feel every inch of the muscle on them as they circle your back. He’s muscular but then again, it’s his job to look imposing and protective. you steal yourself, begging to be brave just this once. 

“Who told you,” you say, balancing on his knee, you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from sliding off. and it puts your mouth close to his ear and his neck, your breath caressing his skin, 

 “-That I didn’t want you to be intense with me?" 

Coming Sunday June 5th at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below) 

[linasofia]

Petite Voleuse

Part 4

Fandom: Pilgrimage

Summary: When stealing something of great value and importance from a man like Raymond de Merville you never could have foreseen how your life would change.

Words: 2,5K

Warnings: 18+, smut, verbal abuse, non-con

A/N: This is the fourth part of this fic. You can read the previous parts here.

French Ma petite voleuse - My little thief Tu t'es languie de moi? - Did you languish for me?

Special thanks to @lathalea & @legolasbadass! 💙

The days gradually become shorter, the sun seems shy, and the nights carry an icy wind from the sea. The full moon must have shed its pale light over the encampment at least two times since I first saw it on the night I was fettered to the pole, but it is hard to follow the changes in the environment when every day in my canvas cage is the same. My life follows a strict routine, forced upon me by the man whose moody temper and raw treatments I have grown accustomed to. I wake up, often before he does, assist him when he gets dressed, then I spend the day alone with only my thoughts as a distraction. At night, he returns to take out his frustration, anger or, on rare occasions, his excitement, on me. Afterwards, we both come to rest, drained of the last drops of energy as a result of the intense climax, but I always fall asleep with mixed feelings in my chest. The first nights I spent in his bed were torture; I felt like I was sleeping on a bed filled with thorns. But lately, I often wake up with his arm draped around my waist. If I, in those moments, close my eyes and try to forget where I am, his unconscious embrace feels almost pleasant.

One morning when I slip out of bed after Raymond, the cold in the tent is worse than usual. I cannot stop my body from shivering when I hand him the different pieces of armor, and the sensitive skin on my breasts stands guard under his piercing gaze. For some reason, he usually lets me be in the morning. His lust peaks during the night, and like a beast, he likes to satisfy his darkest needs in the shadows, where the light from the flickering fire does not reach. The bed is always partly illuminated and a relatively safe place to be. It is when he drags me to one of the thick, steady poles holding the canvas over our heads that I know the night will be long and my skin will ache the following morning.

When I place Raymond’s cloak over his shoulders, he suddenly reaches for me and lets his warm hands travel over my cold skin. I try not to lean closer to him, for his touch is more gentle than before, and my body seeks his warmth without my consent. I force my teeth to stop chattering as I meet his gaze, and for a second, he looks like he is about to say something. Then he abruptly turns away from me, and his groan hangs in the air while the opening to the tent closes behind him. I throw myself back into bed and pull the blanket and the extra fur up to my nose, desperate to feel what remains of the warmth from the night. The blanket smells of Raymond, and I close my eyes. His musky scent is no longer something I want to scrub off my skin as soon as I can, and I have accepted it as part of my life now, for as long as he deems necessary.

The young man who brings me food announces his arrival later than expected and he enters with a quick glance in my direction. I have not spoken to him since my failed attempt to plead for help and I have no desire to. He places the bowl on the table, then reaches inside his pocket and pulls out a small box. After he puts the little dark wooden box next to the bowl, he turns to me.

”I bring something of value to you.” He pats the box.

I peek at the item and then instinctively pull the blanket tighter to my body. I do not like the tone in his voice. He is a snake, but I do not dare to tell him that.

”I did not accept your offer,” I whisper, afraid he will come for his payment. His greedy eyes roam the blanket as if he seeks to catch a glimpse of my naked skin.

”You could have got it sooner if you had accepted. Sadly, for me, I was told to bring you this.” Disappointment fills his voice and I stare at him in disbelief.

”By who?” I lower my gaze as soon as I realize I have said too much. It is not my place to ask questions. But the young man does not take the opportunity to reprimand me. Instead he answers ”Sire Raymond himself.”

With one last long stare at me, he finally leaves me alone, and as soon as I am certain he will not return, I jump out of bed to open the box. My porridge can wait. I hold my breath as I open the lid with trembling fingers. A gasp falls from my lips and tears well up in my eyes over this gift that to many is not much, but to me is the whole world; inside the box is a thin needle and thread. I can finally repair my dress. It will at least keep me a little warmer and I will not have to endure the humiliation of being in bed or wrapped in a blanket every time my food is delivered. I close the lid and grab the bowl but when I take the spoon I see another great surprise. Someone has poured generous drops of the sweetest nectar in the forest over the porridge: wild honey. I do not know why I suddenly have been given this treat, but I can only think of one person ordering it, and reluctantly, I send a grateful thought to Raymond.

I eat in a hurry, eager to do something meaningful with my time, and the meal is even more filling than usual. As always,I scrape the bowl empty, careful not to miss any drops of honey. When I am done I place the bowl back on the table and pick up my dress that has been resting on a small stool ever since the night Raymond brutally tore it apart. I run my hand over the stained fabric. Finally I can look forward again. Hope rises in my chest, and I permit myself to dream of the wind playing with my hair and caressing my cheeks as I walk over endless green fields.

It is very late when Raymond returns, and the familiar sounds from the men by the fire have almost died. The day’s impressions and tensions are making me tired but as soon as I hear Raymond’s booming voice outside, my heart beats faster and fills my body with adrenaline. I hold my head a little higher when I step forward to greet him, wearing my dress with the long, almost invisible, seam in the front. Without a word, he starts to undress, layer by layer, and I assist him in tense silence. Only his tunic remains when I allow myself to glance at his face. Even if I know what to expect from him, I still jump when he grabs me by the throat. His thumb caresses my skin, and his eyes shift to the same colors as the flickering fire. If I had not seen it before, I would have been terrified of the dark look in his eyes. When his other hand travels over the worn linen fabric, a cruel smile forms on his lips.

”This dress reminds me of the first time I took you.” His grip around my neck tightens, and I feel my pulse drumming at my temples. ”I did not plan to keep you in my bed this long but you turned out to be much more enjoyable than I thought.” He leans in close to me, and his breath fans my cheek as he purrs something I do not understand in an alluring tone I have never heard him use. Then his grip on my throat tightens even more, and small stars appear before my eyes. I place my hand on his forearm in a wordless plea for release.

”Ma petite voleuse, I know you enjoy this too.” His voice drips with lust. The bastard is right; my body hums in tune with his harsh treatment, and I cannot ignore the effect his voice has on me.

“I will spare your dress tonight,” he murmurs as he grabs one of my sleeves and pulls until the fabric glides down and exposes my bare shoulder. “If you want to keep it in this condition you will take it off whenever I want you to. If you hesitate or refuse, I will rip it off your body again.”

I nod, and the pressure around my neck slowly fades away. Feeling the ground sway under my feet, I gasp for air and wonder if the day will come when his grip will cause me to faint. It has come close at times and he seems to enjoy all types of control over my body. Maybe this is what he refers to as another type of punishment. Raymond takes a step back and folds his arms over his chest. His lips form a grin, and without taking his eyes from my cleavage, he rasps a single word: “Undress.”

I swallow hard; my throat feels sore after his tight grip but not worse than it has been before, it will pass before the night is over. Before his eyes, I lift the dress and pull it over my head. I do not leave it on the floor, but instead I fold it and put it on the stool. The fabric is more than just a dress, it now symbolises hope and deserves to be treated accordingly. When I meet Raymond’s ravenous gaze, he nods at the bed. He does not need to use words. I understand what he expects from me.

I lie back on the bed and watch Raymond put another log on the fire. His strong shoulders flex in the warm light as he pulls off his tunic and when he steps up to the bed, I stop breathing. Raymond truly has the body of a warrior and I can only imagine how skilled and ruthless he is with his sword in battle. Feral hunger fills his eyes when he takes in my naked body, spread out on his bed, on his command, and my vulnerability is once again reminding me of his superior strength and power. With the unmistakable confidence of a knight, he covers my body with his and pins me to the bed. Obediently, I spread my legs for him and the shame and lust wash over me in an intoxicating combination. I feel his impressive spear press against me but he does not enter me at once.

”Tu t'es languie de moi?” he groans in my ear and when I do not answer him, he forces my knees even further apart. I put up enough resistance to make him use his strength and I know it gives him satisfaction. His moan turns to a raw chuckle when his fingers reach between my thighs. ”I know you have.”

I whimper when he adjusts himself and with a deep thrust he buries his spear in my heat. Even if I am stretched around Raymond’s massive girth every night, I still struggle initially to adjust to his size. But soon enough my body gives in and welcomes every movement of his hips.

Raymond is a violent man and sharing his bed involves bruises and soreness, but it also means ferocious peaks of satisfaction when he pushes me beyond my limits. It did not take long before I realized that he finds perverse amusement in my vocals, and the louder I am, both in pleasure and in pain, the more he acknowledges my needs as well. Tonight is no exception and when I fall apart under him, he joins me with a long stream of words that sound more like a curse than praise.

Panting heavily, he heaves himself on his hands while my body still shakes from his intense treatment. Without a word, he stares down at me and I meet his gaze with a growing feeling of anxiousness. He usually takes what he wants from me and then falls asleep. That is much easier to deal with than the current piercing gaze that makes my mouth go dry. Afraid I have done something to displease him, and now have to pay for it in a sinister way, I close my eyes in an attempt to calm myself down. Unexpectedly the thought of his gift appears in my mind and when I remember that I have not yet thanked him for it, I open my eyes again. Maybe it will direct his thoughts in another direction.

”Thank you for the gift this morning,” I say quietly.

Raymond does not answer me but he tilts his head a little to the side and the smallest of smiles briefly dances in the corner of his mouth. It softens the cruel expression on his face, and for once, he looks almost content. But the moment is gone in the blink of an eye. With a grunt he moves to my side and comes to rest on his back. The dark hair on his chest curls when damp, and as he scratches his chest with his large and calloused hand, I cannot stop myself from observing his fingers. Something about his hands is truly appealing, and when the blood is washed from them, they are capable of the most satisfying actions. Raymond pulls the blanket over both of us, but instead of turning away from me as he usually does, he stays on his back and tucks one arm under his head. It feels more intimate to lie like this, and sleep will not come easy to me. my mind tries to process the staggering day and night. I watch the look on his face soften and it becomes clear that Raymond clearly does not share my problem with sleeping because his chest heaves with every deep breath he takes and an aura of calmness surrounds him. Have you missed me? His question finds its way to my consciousness and occupies my mind. I want to shout ”NO!” to his face, but lately I have felt more excitement than fear when he towers over my naked body. Do I miss him or is it just my miserable loneliness that plays tricks on my brain? If we had met under different circumstances, how would my feelings towards him have been? The most important question makes me anxious and it is the question I try to run away from; will I miss him the day I slip unnoticed from his grip?

Did you like it? Please like, comment or/and reblog! ❤️

Taglist and others who might be interested: @lathalea @legolasbadass @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @enchantzz @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @xxbyimm @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @kibleedibleedoo @mariannetora @haly-reads @sunnysidesidra @rachel1959 @knitastically @jaskierthelover @quiall321 @medusas-hairband

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed.

[lubdubsworld]

物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)

Characters : Alpha! Jungkook x Omega ! OC.

ABO Dynamics.

Genre : Arranged Marriage / Temporary contractual Marriage.

Warnings : Non- Con/ Extremely Dubious Consent . High functioning alcoholism. Genre related consent issues. Implied suicidal thoughts. 

Summary : A recently widowed Jungkook agrees to a contract marriage to keep his company afloat. His grief overwhelms him and it is hard to look at his new wife as anything other than an intruder .

[  Author’s Note :  物の哀れ ~ Mono no aware can be translated as ‘the sadness of things’. It comes from the words 物 (mono – thing) and 哀れ (aware – poignancy or pathos). The ‘sadness’ in question comes from an awareness of the transience of things, as taught by Zen Buddhism. When we view something exceptionally beautiful, we might feel sad because we know it won’t stay so beautiful forever – but appreciation only heightens the pleasure we take in the beautiful thing in that moment. ]

Chapter 1

 Chapter 2

I wrapped the white wool shawl tighter around my shoulders. The night was still chilly and the and smelt faintly of impending rain. Why they would plan a party outside while it rained, was beyond me.

After my little skirmish with Jungkook, I had found Namjoon quickly only to be told that we couldn’t leave for another hour at least because there was a  certain investor who wanted to meet Namjoon . The guy was running late and he had to wait for him. So here I stood, shivering lightly, all while keeping an eye on my husband as he got progressively drunk.

Namjoon’s words made me sigh a little.

“You can’t decide what someone else’s normal is, Namjoon. Especially when it comes to grief.  But the drinking is an issue. And you’re right about the therapist. I know she’s doing her best but I’m not sure if she has the right answers for him. Or even the right tools to help him.”

“I’ve been searching up on therapists who specialize with alphas. There’s one in Itaewon , his name is Kim Taehyung. I really think he could help. He’s an alpha himself.”

“That sounds good. Betas may not fully understand alpha mating bonds or what it’s like when one of them dies. Taehyung may have a better understanding of what Jungkook’s going through.” I nodded, a little hopeful. 

Therapy with the beta lady the hospital had recommended wasn’t really helping Jungkook the way it ought to.

Namjoon hesitated.

“Would you be willing to go with him? Taehyung insists a family member stay in the waiting room just in case...” he asked gently. I turned back to look at my husband, leaning on the mahogany countertop of the bar, fingers curled around a glass of whiskey.

“And I’m the one you want to consider for that? That’s ridiculous. Jungkook hates me.” Did I really have remind him of this salient fact? 

“I’ve offered to, before.  He doesn’t want me there." I sighed as Jungkook threw the drink back with ease.

“That was three months ago though. Things have changed now right?” Namjoon prodded.

I laughed, shaking my head.

“Not between us they haven’t. He’s spending more time with Mina and he isn’t throwing stuff around but he still loathes me.”

“He loathes what you represent: his own shortcomings and failures. Your father wasn’t kind in his approach and you are a reminder of all the things he can’t control.”

How fucking unfair,  I thought playing with the tiny  ring on my finger ( or should i say handcuff really? ), my wedding ring , the platinum band engraved with my husband’s name, a drop of his blood embossed into the metal. 

An archaic tradition, that carried no meaning in modern Seoul but the idea of it was still alive and well. The idea that what we had was a blood bond, imbued in our veins now.  An alpha’s connection with a beta or an alpha mate was usually quite fragile. But an alpha and omega mate bond. That was supposed to be powerful. 

Unless the alpha was still phantom bonded to a dead wife , that is. It was odd thing. Mate bonds had to be mutual to work. So there was no bond between Jungkook and I . We didn’t have any feelings for each other of course. But wearing someone’s blood on yourself changed that . it forced a bond that wasn’t there. It was ancient magic and it worked on my kind. Not on his. 

How fucking unfair because it wasn’t like I could control any of this either? 

I grimaced. I had thought of taking the ring off 

“Ouch.” I said with a smile. Namjoon waved off my self pity with an eye roll. 

“You know what I mean. Even for an Alpha, Jungkook has always held on to his pride. Losing his wife and his company all in the same week probably left him feeling incredibly helpless and your father browbeat him into this whole thing. Of course he isn’t going to be eager to share heart to heart talks with you. ”

I held my hand up. 

“I know all that Namjoon. I was there, remember? And I’m not blaming him for any of that. Trauma makes you do shitty things and I understand that . I also understand that if he was in his right mind he wouldn’t behave the way he does now. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t change his mind for him. If he doesn’t want to get help, I’m kind of helpless myself, you know?”

Namjoon reached out and squeezed my hand.  

“I’m just asking you this because , he does listen to you at times. I’ve noticed it. He doesn’t outwardly agree with you but he takes your opinions into consideration. And, Heejin you live with him and you’re the one who managed to convince him to start scenting Mina. ”

And God, how exhausting that had been. I had kept at it because Mina was so young and she needed her father’s scent to grow. And while i could be persistent when necessary,  I couldn’t work miracles. 

“Namjoon oppa, “ I said softly, trying to explain myself without sounding like a horrible human, “  I don’t hate Jungkook. Far from it. I want him to get the help he needs and I’m here for him. If you can convince him to go see Taehyung and he’s okay with me coming along, I won’t say no. Mina needs him and there’s nothing I would like more than for him to get better. ” i smiled a little, “ But he’s still going to have to be the one to make that choice. i can’t make it for him.” 

Namjoon nodded.

“ Fair enough. Well,  I’ll talk to him about it. We’ll set something up. Thank you for not refusing Heejinah. I know it can’t be easy for you either. 

I opened my mouth to respond but out of the corner of my eyes I caught a glimpse of someone, staring intently right at me.

 I turned sharply, eyes locking with those of Kim Yugyeom and I stiffened, stepping closer to Namjoon on instinct.  Yugyeom smirked, winking at me. 

I shuddered in disgust. 

Creep.

Namjoon followed my line of vision and swore.

“This motherfucker.” He made to move towards him. and I grabbed his arm, fingers digging into his forearm. The last thing i wanted to witness was an alpha alpha showdown in the middle of a party with me in the middle. 

“Please, no. Don’t make a scene. It’s what he wants.”

“Jungkook has the shittiest friends on the planet.” Namjoon shook his head and I couldn’t agree more. 

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

Mina’s appointment with the doctor went about as expected. She was right on time with her milestones and I sat in the waiting office for a mere twenty minutes before being called in. The doctor, an alpha named Min Yoongi gave me a small smile of recognition before flipping through the pages of her file.

“ Jungkook didn’t come along?” He asked casually, grabbing a pen and making a note of her weight and length before plotting it on the small graph. She was a little on the smaller side but she was growing well. 

“He’s busy...” i said with a shrug, “ So I still keep giving her the polyvisol supplements?” 

Yoongi nodded, “ The nurse will fill in the prescription for you. Are you sure he’s busy? He called me last night and told me he wanted to come see me?” 

I blinked. 

“He did ? “ I couldn’t quite process this. 

“He wanted to talk about how she’s doing and I told him he could come in for her appointment today.”

I imagined a world where Jungkook actually spoke to me, instead of forcing  me to navigate stormy waters on rotten plywood. Nine more months, i told myself firmly, already digging for my phone. Nine more months and I would be out of this living hell I’d gotten trapped in. 

“Can I try calling him? He’s probably forgotten. I think he might regret missing out.” I begged and Yoongi gave me a small smile, waving me off. 

“Of course you can Heejin-ah and tell him that if he wants I can drop by at the office and talk to him as well.” 

I nodded quickly , moving out to the waiting area while the nurses held Mina, soothing her before getting her ready for her shots. I tried calling him and not surprisingly he didn’t pick up. I called his office next and Jungkook’s secretary picked up the phone .

The woman hated me. 

“He’s busy.” She said curtly.” He’s specifically asked me not to bother him with stuff that isn’t important.” 

Her whiny voice grated on my ears and i bit my lips to keep the irritation in. 

“Since when does his daughter make that list, Ms Lee?” I said calmly and she hesitated. 

“He’s in a meeting right now and-”

“I’m in the hospital with his daughter. I hope you’re willing to take the heat when he finds out that you wouldn’t let me get through to him. “ I said casually. 

It was a twisted version of the truth for sure. Meant to imply that Mina was hurt in some way. But I couldn’t bring myself to regret it much. I had enough on my plate without dealing with twenty year old secretaries who fancied themselves in love with their hot boss. 

 “I... just a moment, Mrs. Jeon.” 

I loathed the name. It wasn’t mine. It was hers and I felt like a thief every time someone addressed me that way.

After two minutes, Jungkook’s  familiarly low and perpetually exhausted voice came out ,

“Hello? Heejin?” He sounded listless and his voice just a little slurred and i groaned. 

“Please tell me you aren’t drunk.” I whispered. 

“I’m not. “ He said shortly. “ What’s wrong? What happened? Is Mina alright? ”

“Did you tell Yoongi that you were going to meet him today?” 

He was quiet for a second. 

“i’ll talk to him.”

He hung up and I stared at the phone. I realized that I shouldn’t have called him in the first place. Should have asked Yoongi to call him himself. What was wrong with me? Even a few syllables exchanged with Jungkook felt like staring into an abyss . 

I moved back to the clinic , just as Mina plaintive wail filled the room. The shots were done. It took us another thirty five minutes to finish filling her prescriptions and for Yoongi to finish examining her. She was already dozing off and I wasn’t supposed to feed her for another thirty minutes so perhaps the nap would do her good.  I had just finished settling her into her Bjorn carrier  when Jungkook’s voice came from the entryway. 

“Is this the way to Dr. Min’s office?” 

I glanced back to watch him . He looked ridiculously handsome in a three piece suit, jacket thrown over his arm and hair lightly damp from the misty drizzle outside. I saw the secretary’s mouth actually drop open and stay agape as she tried to process his questions. i could see the way his beauty had rendered her entirely witless and as someone who had experienced it first hand , i could sympathize, 

But Jungkook was beginning to look annoyed from the lack of response and i decided to give the poor girl a break. 

“He’s waiting for you.” I called out and Jungkook startled. He glanced up at me and for some reason he looked surprised. He always looked surprised when he saw me. As if i was just some monster out of his worst nightmares turning up in odd places . As if he couldn’t quite believe that i did exist in his life now. Unwelcome but impossible to avoid. 

“You’re here.” He said blankly. 

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. 

“Yes, i am. I’ve been here for three months now. “ i said shortly, before i could stop myself, “ Mina’s fine.  She just had her shots. I’m going to drive home and put her down for a nap. Do you want me to come with you ?” I pointed at the clinic. 

He hesitated before shaking his head. 

It was all according to script then. Jungkook would never include me in a single thing. Even if i was smack damn in the middle of the room with nowhere else to go. 

“Alright. i’ll see you after work.” 

“We’ll have guests for dinner today. ” He said suddenly. 

I stared at him, confused.

“For dinner??”

“ Sooah’s parents.” 

Oh, God. 

Wary of the extra nurses suddenly filling the room, the little whispers and the curious glances, i kept my smile even. 

“Of course. ” I bowed a little before turning on my heel and walking away. 

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

Sooah’s parents were, for lack of a better word, selfish . 

They had lost a daughter, so of course i could understand with their need to keep their daughter’s memory alive. But the way they chose to do it was unhealthy and borderline vindictive. 

" She’s growing well.” Mrs. Kim had the same statuesque figure as her model daughter and she held her grandchild with a slightly unsure grip and Mina felt the uncertainty in her grip, breaking out into cries at once. I stayed still, my throat dry from disuse. I hadn’t said a word since they came in. 

We were seated at the table, dinner was done. 

Jungkook sat next to me, staring straight ahead while his father in law tried to engage him in conversation. 

With Jungkook, the grief came in waves. Some days, the waves were small and gentle, like the ones that lapped at your feet on the shore of a tranquil lake. on those days e went about his day as usual, spoke to his friends and signed deals.  And somedays they were big, behemoths carrying guilt and accusation, crashing over his head with a vengeance. 

On those days , he looked like he’d been run over by a two ton truck. 

Today was just one of those days and i could sense it.

The man was going on an on about some charity that Sooah had been involved in as a young girl... Could Jungkook make a contribution in her name?. Could Jungkook pay for a concert of her favorite singer in her hometown..?  Could Jungkook possibly consider contributing to opening a foundation in her name? 

I could feel the urge to scream, grow by the minute.

 Each syllable that spilled out of her father’s mouth was aggravating, the sentences began and ended with her name, over and over over again and It felt terribly like she was standing right next to me, ice cold and dead but real and relentless at the same time. He spoke of her like she was still alive and i couldn’t fathom how that was healthy. How that was going to help Jungkook move on.

 If anything it made it harder for him to move on. 

And in a moment of chilling clarity, i realized  that this is what they wanted. 

They didn’t want Jungkook to move on from her. They wanted him to be consumed by her. In the wake of that realization , i felt anger surge. 

There was just enough hurt and heartbreak and pain and grief in this room without these idiots adding to it. 

“Jungkook is tired tonight, uncle.. Perhaps we can discuss this later.” I said finally, unable to bear it any more.

The man gave me a glare.

“I wasn’t talking to you girl.” He said sharply. I frowned. 

“We’re trying to help Jungkook. “ The woman said sharply. “ Unlike you and your father we do not prey on the weak. “ 

Jungkook shifted at the phrase and I glared at her.

“He isn’t weak. “ I snapped, resisting the urge to add on a you bitch , “He’s grieving . And what he needs is space to process his grief. Not you people trying to shove your daughter into his throat with every sentence. “

“Don’t you dare talk about our daughter!” Mrs. Kim snarled and i felt a headache come on.

“I thought that was why you were here? To talk about her? Or should I say use her as an excuse to get money out of him??  What you’re doing is unfair and awful!! . Jungkook isn’t ready to talk about this and one look at his face should tell you that, if you even bothered looking at anything except his wallet.” I shouted. 

“Heejin, that’s enough.” Jungkook said hoarsely and i bit my lips. 

Of course he wasn’t going to support me even if we were on the same side. Defending him, protecting him was exhausting and it was such a thankless job. i wanted it to end. 

“I think we should call this a night. please, just leave” I said sharply, standing up and reaching for Mina. She glared at me but handed the baby over. 

“You don’t get to make that decision. My son in law is who I’m here to see. You’re just the parasite that’s attached herself to him. You sit there in my daughter’s place and you dare disrespect me this way. ” The woman snapped.

“Its still my house. “ I gritted out. “ I’m married to Jungkook whether you like it or not and so i have the right to ask you to get out of my house.” 

“Heejin, stop.” Jungkook’s voice only made me angrier. He sounded drained and empty and still these leeches wanted to suck him dry. And he was too  blind to see it. 

“I’m done with this” I stood up moving to the small pack and play that sat in the corner of the living room. i placed Mina in and watcher her eyes flutter shut gently. 

i turned back to stare at Mrs. Kim.

“i want the pair of you to leave. Get out before I call security.” 

She gaped at me. 

“you had a wedding... that doesn’t make it a fucking marriage. “ she sneered. “ Its probably not even legal until you consummate it. So go ahead, call the cops right now. You think i wouldn’t take you to court. ??!! ” 

She was spouting absolute nonsense, probably driven by her own grief  but i wasn’t feeling particularly charitable tonight. 

“Why don’t you ask your son in law that? Ask him if the marriage was consummated or not...” I smirked. 

She faltered, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“No. You’re lying ...he wouldn’t.” She turned to Jungkook who looked at me with fury in his eyes. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He said sharply and I scoffed.

“With me? What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with these idiots that they think they can come here and ask you to sign a fucking cheque when you’re still out here grieving for their daughter?!”

“You don’t know shit about them or her...” 

“I don’t have to. I don’t have to and i don’t care to either. All I know is that i married you and you’re my husband and whether you meant those vows or not, i did. I swore in front of my God and my family and I’m going to keep those promises. I’m going to protect you because I love your daughter . I’m going to protect you because you need to fucking live to be able to care for her. “ 

i turned to stare at his in-laws. They were staring at me, some of the fire dying out and in the span of a few minutes they somehow looked older . 

“You don’t deserve to be here.” Mr. Kim said finally, voice cracking and i exhaled. 

“And yet, here I am. And I’m not leaving. you are.” I said calmly. 

They stared at me for one more second before standing up and moving out of the dining space and into the hallways leading out. 

“We’ll call you later Jungkook-ah...” The man said before walking out of the door and slamming it shut behind him. 

The silence between us grew heavier as the seconds ticked. 

“We can’t decide how people grieve.” Jungkook said softly. 

I stared at him in disbelief. 

“You’re telling  me  that , Jungkook? Or did you forget all the times I indulged you when the only way you could grieve was apparently  by forcing yourself on me.” i snapped. 

His eyes widened , just a fraction before going blank again. 

He took a deep breath and went on. 

“They lost their daughter and they’re hurting. We can’t tell them they aren’t allowed to honor her memory...They’re clearly in pain...”

“Not more than you!” i snapped. “ You’re the one in pain here Jungkook. Your pain is so much more than theirs ..... Or may be it isn’t i don’t know.. But i do know that I can’t sit here and watch them bleed all over you when you’re cut just as deep as them.” 

“You don’t know shit about e!” He roared. “ Don’t you fucking dare talk about my grief like you can understand it...like you actually know what its like to lose the woman who had your fucking heart, because if you did you wouldn’t have agreed to this fucking marriage...you wouldn’t be here in this room with me, intruding on my grief and my pain... “

The sound of his voice made my entire body freeze in fear. I stayed perfectly still, jumping when he crossed the distance between us and grabbed my face, fingers curling around my jaw. 

“ You want to know how i wanted to grieve? I wanted to grieve in solitude!!! I wanted to grieve without some fucking stranger hovering over my shoulder like a fucking plague!”

I exhaled shakily, fingers trembling as i reached up to hold his wrist, my entire jaw throbbing with how hard his grip was. 

“It’s the price you pay for getting your company back. Jeon Jungkook. “ I choked out.” Or did you forget that marrying me is the reason you aren’t homeless on the streets “

He laughed a little yanking me closer and wrapping an arm around my waist.

“You’ve learned to talk back these days...” He muttered , “ I think I preferred the girl who hid in the nursery for the first three weeks of our wedding.” 

“I wasn’t hiding . I was avoiding you. Because your misery was contagious and i didn’t want any of it on me.” I snapped and his hold on my waist tightened. 

“Are you trying to make me angry? ” He snapped, fingers curling on my waist and I swallowed the whimper of pain that threatened. 

“Maybe i am... Maybe anything is better than watching you walk around this house like a corpse. You’re alive so I don’t see why you act like you died with her.” 

He growled at that, eyes blazing as he stepped back enough to stare into my face. 

“You’re right... I didn’t die with her. Although i wanted to...Maybe if i wasn’t such a fucking coward, i would have gone through with it.  .” He laughed and I felt my heart go ice cold at the very thought of it. 

“You didn’t die... So why don’t you get some help. There’s no shame in getting help... Taehyung...”

“I don’t need help. i need to be alone.” He snarled. “ I need to be allowed to cry and mourn my wife the way I want to but you and your father made sure that i couldn’t.”

I sighed, looking away in defeat. 

“Fucking look at me!” He snarled, hands grabbing both my arms and yanking me forward. “ Why won’t you look at me huh?  is the guilt finally catching up?” 

“No. No guilt. Just loathing and resentment.” I snapped back and he laughed again.

“Well too bad. Because you know what? You’re right. I paid for my company with my right to grieve and you...you paid for my name with your right to say no . “ 

I swallowed as he yanked me away from the table, dragging me to the couch in the side. 

“ I never refused you a thing.” I choked out, breathing ragged as he shoved me into the soft leather surface, crawling on top of me at once. “ I only said no when you were drunk out of your mind. When you thought it was okay to fuck me and call me by her name.” 

He made swift work of the buttons of my blouse and I stayed still, arms lying by my side. 

“ Are you telling me you want this ? You expect me to believe you want my hands on your body?” He sneered, fingers moving up to grip my hair. “You don’t want this and you don’t want me....Just like i don’t want you either. i’ll never want you. ” 

“You don’t want me.??.. You have a funny way of showing it..”  I scoffed , staring right into his eyes rolling my hips up into his  , greeted by the hard press of his length against my thigh.   “ And to be honest i don’t give a damn if you’re still in love with her , all I want is my name on your lips if you want to get off with me. Because I’m not just a toy you can use to replace your dead wife. I have  a name and you should remember it.  "

He growled again, fingers squeezing hard against the back of my head till my scalp felt like it was on fire.

“I hate you. “ He said clearly. “ I hate you and everything you’ve done to me.” 

“Everything I’ve done to you? Oh you mean save your life? Taek care of your baby girl like she was my own? Give you the chance to rebuild your entire career.? Turn you into multi millionaire again?  Good. Hate me. The feelings mutual. “ I snapped. “Now if you hate me so much why are you still here? Get off me.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, wife.” He sneered. “ Because like you said, I’ve paid for this.” He drawled, reaching down and squeezing between my legs. “And I’d be a pretty bad businessman if i don’t collect from my investments.” 

Before I could retort, he pulled back, just enough to grab me by the waist and flip me over on my front. I flinched when he grabbed my arms, yanking them back and trapping my wrists together in his fist at the base of my spine. My cheeks pressed into the leather couch, sticky and uncomfortable. 

i heard the sound of his zipper, the clink of his belt buckle. 

Coward. 

I shivered when he pushed my skirt up.

“Don’t enjoy this too much, yeah?” I snapped, “ You hate me remember?” 

“Easy enough to forget its you when I don’t have to look at you.” he retorted. 

He slipped one arm under my waist, lifting me up just enough for him to yank my panties down. 

“Just remember , you don’t get to blame the alcohol for this .” I sneered. “ You’re sober and clear headed and you’re hard for me. “ 

Somehow that seemed to bother him.

He stopped . 

I could feel the hesitation in his limbs. 

It made me laugh. 

“You know Jungkook, i took you for lot of things but a coward wasn’t one of them.”

“What the fuck does that mean huh? I should put you in your fucking place for how insolent you are with me... ” he pressed down on me and i gasped when I felt his chest pressing into my back, his face inches from my own. I flinched when he sank his teeth into the mating mark on my neck. 

“it means that if you’re going to do this, if you’re going to talk big about putting me in my place like the big bad alpha that you are, at least own up to the fact that you’re attracted to me. ” 

“ You forget your fucking place, omega.”  he hissed, voice sharp and furious against my ear. “ Another word out of that mouth and i won’t be responsible for what i do.” I gritted my teeth when he curled his fingers around the inside of my thigh, parting my legs and settling in between. 

He pushed into me in one strong thrust and my eyes flew open in shock. 

“Fuck.... why are you so fucking tight...” He groaned and my shoulders began to throb as he fucked into me, setting a punishing speed that left both of us panting . We were too fucking would up for it to last any longer than a few minutes and yet, i could feel pleasure swell inside me, wetness seeping out of me and onto the leather couch beneath us. 

I wondered just how fucked up this whole thing was. Just how much damage were we doing to each other?? But it was hard to care too much about it, because even if though it was a terrible way to talk things out at least he had talked. It was nothing new....nothing earth shatteringly enlightening but he had said it all out loud and that made a difference. 

“You think you can come into my life and dictate how i fucking live.” He grunted against my ear, fingers tightening on my hair. “ it pisses me off.” 

“Everyone dies, Jungkook. People die and they leave loved ones behind but Life goes on. It has to go on. You can’t just pause life to grieve. Mina needs you.” I felt my eyes begin to sting with tears, the adrenaline from the argument fading and my body threatening to go limp as he drove into me at the same punishing pace. 

He didn’t respond, fingers closing around my throat and squeezing lightly instead.

“Save your platitudes before i decide that the warmth of your body isn’t worth the grate of your voice on my ear.” He snapped and I whimpered when he stilled, spilling into me. 

He stayed pressed up against me. breathing harshly against my ear and i waited till both our breaths evened out. 

“It’s not selfish to move on Jungkook. You aren’t insulting your wife’s memory by wanting to move on.  “ I said softly. ” Someday your heart and mind will agree with me. Whether you like it or not. That’s just how pain works, Jungkook. One day it’ll pack itself up and walk out of your heart in the middle of the night. You just have to hold on till then.” 

He didn’t reply, merely drawing himself up and off me. 

Once i heard the door to his bedroom slam shut i dragged myself up , thighs shaking and sticky. I grimaced at the mess on the couch. I stared at the packet of baby wipes on the table nearby and shuddered. That just felt wrong. 

I’d just have to go grab a washcloth from the bathroom. 

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

On that weekend, we had another dinner to attend, this time with a few investors from out of the country or so Namjoon told me. 

Although we didn’t talk about what happened and he didn’t try to touch me again, things were subtly different. 

Something had changed in the way Jungkook behaved with me. There was a little less of the usual zombie like indifference and he actually seemed to be avoiding alcohol actively. It was a welcome change. But to make up for it, Mina went into a growth spurt. Which meant ten minute naps every hours or so with wailing sobs in between. 

i was exhausted. 

So much so that Jungkook told me that he didn’t want to pick Mina up from Seokjin’s place till the next day. 

It was a little past one in the morning when I finally trudged into the apartment. Jungkook wasn’t black out drunk but he was definitely a little loose limbed, eyes just a shade more glassy than usual.

“Tonight went well. I’m thinking the guy from Macau is definitely going to consider investing.” He muttered, gripping the door frame and taking off his shoes.

I toed my own heels off, feeling upset and bereft.

“Why would you tell Jin oppa that we’ll get Mina in the morning? She’s not used to being away the whole night.” I complained, feeling jittery and nervous because the house felt so empty and strange .

I didn’t like the idea of being alone with Jungkook without the buffer of his daughter between us. The house felt foreign, the walls seemingly closer together , the space to cramped.

Jungkook dropped his keys in the bowl and tugged on his tie, watching me carefully.

“It’s too late and Jin hyung said she was already asleep. He’ll drop her off in the morning. Just relax. Would you like a drink?”

I stared at him. 

What now? 

He looked nervous and a tad worried.

 Swallowing , I shook my head, turning on my heel.  

“I’m going to bed.” I was almost at the door to the nursery when he grabbed my arm, seemingly moving faster than I could breathe.

“Wait, Heejin… “ He stopped, worrying his lip between his teeth before sighing, “I… I need to say something..” He finished and I exhaled sharply.

I tugged on my arm but he wouldn’t let go.

“Jungkook , let me go.” I said sharply. “ I’m not in the mood tonight . You aren’t drunk now and I’m running out of reasons to excuse your actions.”

His hold on my arm relaxed but he didn’t let go.

“Namjoon hyung told me about that new therapist.... Kim Taehyung?? . I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He said roughly.  

I sighed, defeated. It was expected and yet it stung. I wondered if perhaps I was just beating a dead horse at this point. But Mina deserved to have a father who loved her with all his heart and Jungkook’s heart was so filled with grief it had no place for his daughter. If there was any chance I could help change that, I would take it.

I tugged my arm away again and this time he let go.

I tried to smile encouragingly. it was hard because i was all out of comfort, my own exhaustion too overwhelming at the moment.

So I took a deep breath and reached out to lightly touch his arm. 

“Listen, no one’s asking you to make a decision tonight, Jungkook.” I tried to smile a bit more widely but it probably came out as a grimace, “ Just sleep on it and think about why you think it isn’t a good idea. Taehyung’s an alpha and he may understand you better. Think about it and you can let Namjoon know later.”

He didn’t reply, merely staring at me till I began to feel a little hot around the collar.

“Well, Good night then.” I made to turn away but he grabbed me again, this time by my wrist.

“Wait.”

Patience wearing just a little thin, I stared at him, waiting as he requested.

“I’m sorry about what I said that night. At the party last week. About you not being her mother.   I shouldn’t have said that.”

It was the first time he had apologized for anything.

It took me a second to even remember what he was talking about. 

“Alright. I’m not mad. And I understand why you said it. Its fine. And you’re right. I’m not her mother and I should be more careful. ”

He nodded and then stepped back.

“ I’m sorry. For a lot of things. ”  He bowed awkwardly and I could only stare at him, shaking my head. The apologies were somehow both welcome and abhorrent to me. 

They were the kind of apology you would offer a stranger. And that made them insincere because I wasn’t a stranger. I’d been through too much these past few months, to be treated that way. 

For now I could only accept them at face value. 

“ Its alright. Just go to bed Jungkook. And listen to Namjoon oppa . I know you don’t trust me but you should trust him. He only wants what’s best for you. ”

I sounded twenty years older than I actually was and grimaced.

"There’s one more thing. Can I... I need... “ He stopped and stared at the floor. 

I felt a huge sense of foreboding rise up at that. 

“Are you going to pull the i paid for your body card? “ I said bitterly. “ You made it very clear that i can’t say no. I don’t see why you’re bothering to-”

“You can say no.” He said softly. “ You can say no.” 

And then he looked up at with limpid doe eyes, shining with all the stars in the galaxy and I wanted to sob at the unfairness of it all. 

“ And if I say no, where will you go? To a brothel? you’ll come back smelling like another beta or omega and you can’t come near your daughter till it fades. Which is what? A week? “ 

Jungkook didn’t say anything and I felt helpless. 

“Is that why you sent her away tonight?” I demanded and he looked genuinely surprised. 

“What? No. Of course not . i just...You looked exhausted. I thought you’d like a night off. And just... I don’t want to have sex. Can you just sleep with me. I just... I don’t want to be alone tonight.” 

“What’s so special about tonight?” i rolled my eyes already moving to his bedroom instead of the nursery. 

He stared at me for a few seconds, eyes empty in the dark of the hallway. 

I waited a whole minute before sighing. This was excruciating and my heels hurt from wearing heels all evening. i wanted to curl into the air mattress on the floor of the nursery , possibly lie sleepless till dawn and then drive down to pick Mina up from Jin’s place. 

“Jungkook , let’s just go to bed and forget-” 

“Its her birthday.” 

I barely heard him, his lips barely moved and his voice was so low. 

I stared at him. Not sure if I’d misheard. 

“What?”

“Its her birthday. “ He repeated. 

“You can say her name.” i said calmly. “ You’re not betraying her by saying her name out loud in front of me.” 

He went a little stiff at that and i wanted to kick myself for the remark. What a hypocrite I was. I’d reprimanded Namjoon for trying to dictate Jungkook’s grief and here I was , doing the exact same thing. 

“I’m sorry. God, Jungkook... I’m sorry. i shouldn’t have said that.  i didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me.. I... of course you don’t have to be alone. Should i call Namjoon oppa? Or Jimin?” I asked gently. 

“It’s Sooah’s birthday.” He was still staring at the floor, apparently he hadn’t heard a word I’d said. 

I had a sudden flash of memory, remembering that Jungkook used to sing. He had sung at his wedding seven years ago. Serenaded his wife as she walked down the aisle. I had been young then but i remembered thinking how evident his love was in every syllable sung .

Something i could hear even now, in the way he said her name. 

“Okay. What would you like to do? I... I can make seaweed soup.” I said softly. “ We can go see her if you like?” 

He stared at me. 

“I want to go alone.” He said finally. 

I hesitated. 

“I’ll drive you. i’ll stay in the car. You can’t drive.” I reminded him. 

Jungkook’s driver’s license had been suspended after one too many traffic violations. I drove him around often . 

He didn’t reply, staring out of the huge bay windows and i sighed. 

“Alright... Why don’t you go change  into something more comfortable yeah? i’ll get the soup going and we, “ i bit my lips, “ , I’m sorry, And you can go see her.  “ I smiled, before moving to the kitchen and grabbing the dried seaweed. I soaked it in cold water, before getting the beef, garlic, soy sauce, salt and pepper and the sesame oil from the cupboards. 

Ten minutes later, the soup was boiling away and I peered out at the door leading to his bedroom. I was still wearing the cocktail gown and my head was beginning to throb. I oved to the nursery and stripped quickly, slipping on my white t shirt and a pair of pink corduroy shorts. 

I would be in the car anyway.  By the time i finished taking off all my make up, the soup was done and Jungkook was slumped over the counter. He looked drained, more so than usual . In fact he looked notably worse than how he was ten minutes ago. 

Torn between the urge to draw him into my arms and the helpless knowledge that he would absolutely hate me touching him , i merely hovered near the stove, pouring the stove into a small airtight container. 

On a whim I moved to the cupboard  in the corner that housed all the crockery and threw it open. 

“What was her favorite bowl?” I said casually, staring at him. 

He blinked, staring at me like i was speaking a foreign tongue. 

“Her favorite bowl , Jungkook The one she always drank or ate from?” 

He swallowed but leaned his palms down on the granite countertop, levering himself off the tall stool of the kitchen island and making his way over to me. I stepped back, giving him space to peer into the depths of the black marble shelves. 

He finally stuck a hand in and drew out a pale yellow and mauve bowl , a little worn but intact. 

He held it carefully, running his fingers gently over the bowl, savoring the surface his wife had once caressed with her own fingers. I watched as his lips curved, a pale pale imitation of a smile but a smile nonetheless and I felt my breath catch in my throat. 

This was probably the first time he’d smiled in the three months i’d known him. 

My heart began to pound, a steady staccato that began rising in volume and i willed myself to stay calm. 

“I..uh.. I can wash it for you.” I said softly .

The smile disappeared as quickly as it had come and he stared at my outstretched hand like it was a snake . 

Face almost eerily blank he cleared his throat. 

“I’ll do it.” 

i watched as he moved to wash the bowl under the spray from the faucet and finished clearing up the kitchen. i grabbed a small bag to keep the sea wood soup in and held the bag open when Jungkook finished washing the bowls. He grabbed a fresh kitchen towel and carefully wiped down the moisture before wrapping the bowl in the towel and keeping it inside the bag, carefully. 

I smiled and zipped the bag shut. 

“Lets go shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

I sat waiting in the car, staring out into the darkness of the parking lot, while the rain poured torrents outside the glass windows of the car. I felt unaccountably alone, like I was the only human being left on the planet. 

It had been a little past an hour since Jungkook had disappeared into the building that held his wife’s ashes. I wasn’t sure if i should give him a call. Had he fallen asleep in there. 

I told myself I would wait another hour and if he didn’t come out, I would go check on him. 

I dozed lightly against the window, exhaustion beginning to creep in. I wanted to sob at how tired i was. I could have gotten a full nights sleep, something i hadn’t had since the day I took Mina into my arms. 

But then, i remembered the tiny smile that had sprung up on his face and i grinned despite myself. That was progress wasn’t it? It definitely was. I was sure that if only Jungkook could be convinced to go meet Taehyung , the alpha therapist, things could get so much better for him. I wanted to have him at least halfway to being ..... capable of handling his own daughter, before i left him. if not the worry alone would eat me alive. 

I was just getting ready to perhaps climb over the console and nap in the backseat when my phone rang. 

I glanced at the dashboard, frowning. it was two thirty in the morning. 

Who?

I grabbed my phone from the bag and my heart leapt to my throat. 

“Jin? What’s wrong? What happened to her?” I could feel my heart threatening to give out, any number of terrible possibilities running through my head in a vicious loop.

“nothing happened, Heejin , take a deep breath... She’s just running a fever. it was quite low earlier but its hitting 101  now and I’m getting a little worried. I’ve given her cold baths and kept a wet towel on her but it doesn’t seem to be coming down.” 

“We’ll be there in ten minutes! “ i said quickly.

“I’m sorry, Heejinah, i don’t have any experience with babies and-”

“it’s alright...thank you for calling me oppa!” i hung up , already fumbling with the door and stepping out into the rain. i was soaked through in three second flat. What a day to wear a white t shirt. 

I ran quickly, stumbling a little on the gravel pathway and hoping to God i was going the right way. I ran into the foyer, the poor security guard falling asleep over his desk glancing up at me in sympathy. 

“there was a man here earlier?”

“Second floor third room.” He said casually.

I nodded, already rushing for the steps. I climbed the four flights of stair in two minutes, my heart threatening to give out. I found Jungkook in the room , kneeling on the floor and he looked at me in shock that swiftly turned to anger.

“Jungkook-” i gasped because the run up had robbed me of my breath. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He moved so quickly I could barely blink before he was right up in front of me. 

“Jungkook, I... We need...” I tried to draw a breath in but before I could form the words he grabbed my arm, so hard that I whimpered in pain. 

“I told you i wanted to be alone, what the fuck is your fucking problem?!” He snarled.

“Jungkook-” Before i could finish, he yanked me just a bit closer to him before shoving me out of the room with his wife’s portraits and the small ornate vase that held her ashes. 

it wasn’t that hard. 

He didn’t push me in a very brutal way. 

In fact it was probably with lesser force than what anyone slamming a door would use. 

But,

Jungkook was six feet two. He weighed a 170 pounds. 

I was a hundred pounds wet and barely came up to his shoulders. 

And it was just my luck that the wall opposite to the door had a large concrete and granite horse figurine placed right in front of it.  

I crashed into the torso of the equine, my bones rattling inside me and I whimpered when my wrist made contact with the hard surface, bending a bit out of place. 

I slid to the floor in a wet lump, trying to catch my breath and process what had just happened.

Jungkook stood frozen by the door horrified as he stared at his hands, as thought he couldn’t quite fathom what he had just done. 

A sharp burning pain began in my sides and I gasped out.

“Oh, fuck.” I swore. 

Jungkook moved to help me up but i was already crawling away from him, scrambling to my feet, ignoring the ache in my side.

“I’m sorry.” I said softly, holding both my hands up. “ It’s Mina...she’s running a fever. We need to go get her.” 

“Heejin-ah, I’m...”

One more apology and i would officially lose it, i thought slightly hysterically. 

“its my fault.” I said sharply, “  I should have probably tried calling you from the car instead of barging in like this but Jin called and i got worried...I wasn’t thinking straight so I’m sorry about that... I think we should go get her as soon as we can.” 

“Did i hurt you?” He demanded , reaching out for me again and I nearly fell again trying to move away from his touch. 

“No.. No I’m fine.” 

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

“Are you sure, we don’t have to go the doctor.?  “ He asked nervously, watching me carefully wipe down her body with the slightly damp wet cloth. I nodded, carefully squeezing the water out before dipping the towel in water again. 

“She’ll be fine. Her fever’s come down and with babies this young, its safer to care for them at home than to take them to a hospital.” I said casually, 

 “I wasn’t talking about her.” He said stiltedly. 

I blinked, staring up at him in surprise. 

“What?”

“I think we should go to the doctor. You fell hard. ”

“Jungkook what are you even on about?” I said crossly, steadfastly ignoring the pain in my sides. It was sharp and unbearable with every breath I took in but I was too terrified to go to the hospital and have them tell me I’d cracked my rib or something. 

Partly because that would be so inconvenient. 

Partly because Jungkook would probably go back to being a guilt ridden shadow of himself if that happened. 

“I’m going to call Yoongi hyung.” 

Before I could protests some more he was already on his feet, moving to the living room.

Yoongi arrived thirty minutes later , annoyed and sleepy, dressed in a soft white t shirt and stone wash jeans. 

“It’s four thirty in the morning , she better be dying Jungkook..” He rasped out near the front door and i flinched at the murderous tone to his voice. 

Suddenly , i hoped desperately that my ribs had cracked. 

Yoongi stepped in , staring at me . He took in the mess of quilts i sat on and sighed. 

“Come here and take your shirt off.” He said gruffly. 

I blinked, feeling blood rush to my face. Was he always this handsome? Hating the very unwelcome flutter of nerves, I moved to stand in front of him, grabbing the hem of my t shirt .

But the movement jolted my rib and pain sharp and lancing shot through my side. I yelped and dropped my hand again breathing harshly which only seemed to make things worse. 

I swallowed and Yoongi blinked, reaching out to gently grip my elbows. 

“Hey...relax ... “ He said gently. 

I felt the press of a warm chest at my back.

“Let me help hyung.” Jungkook’s voice rumbled through my body, his chin brushing the top of my head and he bent over me from the back, fingers gripping the hem of my shirt and carefully lifting it up to just above the curve of my breasts. 

Yoongi was staring at Jungkook over my shoulders expression unreadable. 

“So you do know how to act after all.” He commented drily and I heard Jungkook inhale sharply behind me. 

“Hyung...” He said sharply, and Yoongi merely rolled his eyes. 

“How did this happen?” He ran slender fingers all over my skin, feeling each dent and dip carefully. 

“I ..uh.. I sort of fell into a statue? It was made of concrete and quite heavy.” 

His face shifted into a frown. 

“Jungkook , tell me you didn’t push her.” He said sharply and I jumped a bit.

“No...he didn’t.” i said sharply and Yoongi ignored me , staring right at the alpha behind me. 

“I didn’t mean to.” He said finally.

“You broke her rib, kid.” 

I groaned in defeat. Behind me Jungkook stiffened.

“It was an accident.” I said sharply and Yoongi gave me an unimpressed look.

“If i had a won for every wife that told me that.” 

“It was my fault and-” I shut my mouth. I did sound like the poster child for abused wife in denial. 

“Relax... I’m not going to send your handsome husband to prison.” He chuckled. “ This time.” He added, giving Jungkook another glare. 

“It won’t happen again. ever. “ Jungkook’s voice shook a little. 

I sighed, already imagining the self flagellation that was probably going on inside the alpha’s head.

Yoongi’s voice drew me out of my head. 

 “Its not a break. It looks like a crack which is easier to heal. But i still want you to come in tomorrow. We’ll get it x rayed. Its going to take a couple of months to heal.” 

I gaped.

“Months?” 

“As long as you take it easy you’ll be fine. Now where’s the little one?” 

Yoongi dropped off a small bottle of pediatric paracetamol and told me to keep an eye on her temperature before bidding us goodbye. 

Once the door closed behind him, Jungkook turned to me , eyes wide and lips parted. 

“If you apologize , I’m going to throw this  at your face.” i said calmly, fingers closing over the neck of the ceramic vase on the table. 

Jungkook blinked. 

“I’m sorry. “ He said nonetheless and I sighed, pulling my hands away. 

How fitting. Neither of us could act out of character. 

Jungkook couldn’t stop blaming himself for everything under the sun. 

I just couldn’t bring myself to hurt him in any way. 

“Just go to bed , Jungkook. I’ll be fine.” 

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

Author’s Note : As always the pain is here and probably going to get worse. But Jungkook seems to be turning mildly human so let’s see if he can keep that up. Also handsome pediatric doctor Yoongi as second lead because i like to torture myself. 

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[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Six

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

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

Part 6 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

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

Warnings in this Chapter: physical assault; mentions of past sexual assault (brief); abusive parental relationship; canon violence; ANGST; mentions of attempted suicide; mentions of drugs, drug smuggling, and human trafficking; bullying and harassment; SMUT (unprotected sex; hair pulling; ass smack!; ALL THAT GOOD CONSENT; talking a lot during sex lol); 18+ ONLY PLEASE!

Word Count: 21,400+

A/N: ya’ll my timeline is completely fucked (age wise)... like... anything remotely romantic happening between Steve x Female Reader happened AFTER Infinity War when the reader was already 19-20. I just realized that my years were off in a certain flashback......... so yes, everyone knew the reader while they were still in their teens but they’re literally 26-27 present day so don’t think too much of it lmao i can’t really fix it now lol

~

An Avengers Safehouse, 2023, 10:45 pm  

    Every door was closed and locked for the night. You had made sure of it. A distraction now would ultimately destroy any other chance you might get, and this chance was already overdue. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you jogged down the hallways to the common room you knew he was in. He had been catching up on his reading for the past two days now, a small pinch of solace during this hectic week. 

Your feet were heavy, invisible anchors shackled to your ankles and dragging you lower to the depths of that personal hell you had been burning in. Glancing over your shoulder, you measured the distance between you and your room, chest beginning to feel tight as your lungs forgot the taste of air. It was like you were walking to your own personal execution, flesh and bone ready to disconnect from your essence. But you weren’t walking toward anything dangerous - you were walking to him. To speak with him. To be with him. 

You knew you saw it when everyone returned from the heist. He wasn’t himself - he regretted not using the stones for himself, possibly - you truly didn’t know why. You enjoyed the reunions and getting to reconnect with everyone. Grasping and holding Wanda in your arms was outright magical, to touch one of your best friends after nearly accepting the possibility of never doing that again - you had a similar reaction when you collapsed into Peter’s arms with the weight of those five long years. 

And you knew Steve was grateful as well, he had to be, but his exclusion of you hurt. You had shrugged it off the first time - perhaps he was tired, wanted more private time to catch up with Sam and Bucky, to be with his friends as you were with yours. The second time he dismissed you, it was during a dinner. The seat beside you was empty, it wasn’t even that close to you, and he decided to skip dinner altogether. 

But the third time, the most wretched of times, had shown you that something was truly wrong. This wasn’t the Steve you had grown close to these five years. He was distant, cold, a completely changed person that only spoke when absolutely necessary. 

It was a nightmare, one of the worst ones you ever had, and Friday had alerted the only other room near yours - Steve’s. The knocks were loud, frantic in their purpose, and Friday unlocked the door. You were shaken awake, tugged into a chest that wasn’t as firm as the one you remembered, and soft whispers of ‘you’re okay, you’re alright’ drowned out the sounds of your panicked whimpers. You reached out to stroke the person’s face, eyes snapping open when you realized it wasn’t him, it wasn’t Steve. 

‘Bucky?’ you had whispered, hands still stroking his face as he held you. 

‘It’s me. You’re okay, you’re alright.’

‘Where’s Steve? Is he okay?’

Bucky immediately tensed, expression turning somber as he tried to give an acceptable explanation. 

‘He’s… he’s not coming, doll.’

‘What do you mean he’s not coming? He always comes, he-”

‘Doll, hey,’ he shook his head, biting his bottom lip. ‘He’s not coming.’

The broken question of ‘why?’ had tumbled from your lips until Bucky’s rocking had calmed you enough to fall back into a deep sleep. And the next morning, Steve announced he was moving from the safehouse and back to his apartment permanently. 

And it made no sense considering you two were on wonderful terms just a few weeks ago babysitting Morgan. It was like he flipped a switch and erased you from his memory. 

You deserve an explanation. You deserve to have your questions answered, to see the look in his eyes as he tried to explain himself, to witness his fumbling as you caught him off guard. You deserved to know.  

“Why are you avoiding me?”

The common area was illuminated by a soft, yellow light from the lamp in the corner of the room, the moonlight only shining over the kitchen. Steve sat on the lone couch near the soft light, book in his lap and already half-way read. 

No one really snuck up on him - no one had the chance to with his enhanced hearing - but you succeeded. The book nearly fell from his lap, a hitch in his breath alerting you that he really wasn’t expecting anyone. He set the book down on the nearby table and slowly stood up. “I’m not avoiding you.”

You will not cry right now. 

You scoffed, “So, leaving a room when I walk in is just a common occurrence now? What about avoiding me completely? You don’t say good morning, you don’t tell me hello, you don’t even sit near me anymore-”

“It’s late, and these briefings have really taken a toll on me, agent.” Steve sighed and avoided your eyes as he walked right past you and into the kitchen. 

He hadn’t actually done it, but that certainly was a slap in the face. The invisible shackles wrapped around your ankles were pulling harder, drowning you in your grief.

You mindlessly whipped your head at him, watching as he grabbed the milk carton and proceeded to do absolutely nothing with it. You clenched your teeth, “Agent?” 

He did not immediately correct himself. The room was now deathly silent, minus the quick breaths under your nose. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Don’t make this into something it’s not.”

Your forehead strained from the pained expression you held, tears brimmed and burning as they threatened to fall. You walked towards him and tried to keep a steady demeanor, anger drowning your veins the quickest it ever has. “What is it then? ‘Cause you’ve been calling me by my real name for the last five years! You’re my friend!”

Everytime your name slipped from his mouth it made you like him more. His presence was no longer uncomfortable or forced, but rather calming and needed. This friendship was built high and mighty these five years, walls seemingly strong. You worried there was true vulnerability in those foundations.

Speaking to Rhodey or Bruce just wasn’t the same as speaking to Steve. Helping him take out the trash, buying coffee for one another, asking the other what they wanted to watch on television. But now your name was absent from his voice, restrained and gutted from existence as if to purposely hurt your now healing mind. 

Steve ignored the desperate portion of your argument, “It’s time to focus on the new threats this world faces-”

“What are you talking about? Why are you shutting me out like I’m not important to you?”

His jaw tensed, eyes still distant. “I’m not shutting you out. I’m saying we need to focus on the fights we thought we left behind-”

“You mean my dad? Because I’m pretty fucking sure he’s looking to only kill me.”

“Don’t joke about that-”

You had no physical control now. The anger was at its boiling point, seeping through the corners of your eyelids and corners of your mouth. “Joke about what? Why are you not letting me in?”

Steve gripped the counter, head hanging low but voice powerful enough to shake through you. “Stop interrupting me!”

A solitary tear hit the floor beneath you, voice now wobbly and unsure of its chosen words. “What happened to you?”

Steve remained silent for only a moment, hands still gripping the expensive granite. “Nothing happened.”

He ran his right hand down his face to relieve some of the tense muscles. He continued to speak.

“Now that everyone’s back and the same threats are picking up where they left off, I’ve got bigger problems on my hands.”

You scoffed again, “Oh, so now Scott’s time heist has another negative consequence?”

In a matter of a millisecond, Steve turned suddenly and was now towering over you. Your back instantly straightened. “Don’t be smart with me. You know what this means.”

You just looked up at him, eyes slightly fogging up but the rest of your face still determined. You spoke low, searching his face for any indication that he would swing. No, he wouldn’t. Ever. “Spell it out for me then. I’m still seething from not hearing my first name yet.”

Steve ignored your quip, “Now that your father’s back, we need to finish what we started.”

You stared at him in disbelief, “You don’t think he’s actually going to pick up where he left off, right? Not now!”

“He already has. Fury notified me through a secure channel,” Steve declared, stepping away from you as his mind finally rewired. 

You instinctively wrapped your arms around your torso, “No…”

“Business as usual.”

Your voice raised an octave, desperation now dousing your plea of ignorance, “No, you’re lying. You’re a goddamn liar!”

“Calm down, agent. This isn’t the time-”

It was your turn to crowd Steve, stepping toward him and pushing him backwards. Your mind told you to not touch him, that he never touched you, and that it was horribly wrong. But his blank face prompted another push, your body acting on its own will. 

“Agent? Agent! Steve, what the fuck is going on?”

His voice was deeper, “If you yell one more time-”

“You’ll what?” 

Neither of you spoke. In that moment, you wondered if anyone had heard this fight as you and Steve weren’t exactly being quiet. You knew your voice traveled down several hallways and his strong one practically shook the floors. So you pushed that thought to the back of your cramped brain, head held high and eyes boring into Steve’s.

“Now that you got your old friends back, I’m useless. Is that right?”

His eyes widened, “Where in the hell is that coming from?”

“I’m right, right? You don’t want to be my friend anymore, I was a rebound all these years?”

Steve started shaking his head, eyes closed as he tried to calculate the best possible response. He could feel his lungs burn, almost like they did before the serum, and he realized he was throwing himself into a panic attack. It tickled its way up his throat, clenching the sides and dragging its nails across the sensitive surface.

You were still speaking.  

“You know, you’re still pissed that the first name I spit out to Fury when I went undercover was yours. You never wanted to help me with it.”

“Don’t start-”

You knew you shouldn’t have continued, this argument proved childish since he first called you by an old, nameless nickname. But it seemed he had no intention of apologizing or providing you with an explanation for his sudden absence.

“You’re still fuming about it. You’re still fuming about your image being ruined. Good ol’ Captain America as a secret, undercover drug dealer!”

Steve finally showed proof of cracking, hands gripping his hair harshly. “Y/N, I said don’t start! I’m finished!”

But you persisted, now screaming and countless, frustrated tears tainting your red cheeks. “You can’t fucking stand me because I tarnished that fucking star on your chest! I made you look bad to a bunch of fucking criminals!”

Steve grabbed the nearest object, the coffee maker Tony had bought for their six year formation anniversary, and flung it across the room. It shattered into the wall, leftover cold coffee staining the peach paint, the glass littered over the floor. “That’s enough!”

The sound of its impact made your stomach churn. You were frozen in place, almost certain that Steve would throw you next, and your legs were suddenly cold. “Who are you?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Steve choked out, tears forming in his eyes as well. His chest rapidly raised and lowered, his breathing becoming erratic. Even he wondered why no one had come to check up on you two.

For the sake of Steve’s sanity, you whispered your next reply. 

“You hate me that much-”

“Y/N-”

And you were suddenly overpowered by a sense of calm acceptance. “You hate me so much that you can’t even stand to look at me.”

“Please...”

“I’m finished, too. From now on… you’re my Captain. I’m just an agent. I’ll answer your call to help fight. That’s it.”

You had thought he would drop to his knees and apologize. This Steve wasn’t your Steve - not that Steve or any part of him was ever yours - but it was almost impossible to comprehend such a blank set of emotions from the same man who helped you with laundry, remembered the captions of your photo posts and teased you about them later, or casually sketched your outline in his sketchbook. He began to disregard your kindness, your presence, your voice the moment Wanda held Vision’s face as he whispered his goodbye, as she got her closure, as she had to say goodbye for the thousandth time. 

But nothing could prepare you for his quick acceptance of your offer.

“I think that’s for the best.”

You nodded slowly, arms falling to your sides. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did - hell, you didn’t love the guy - but he was so much more than just a colleague now. You had literally saved the world together. He was your shoulder to cry on and you were his. Did you love him? 

“Just so you know, I wasn’t faking any of it.” 

Steve looked as if he was going to say something but closed his mouth. You swore you could see his bottom lip trembling, but he remained still. He stared anywhere but your face. 

You turned to leave, body ready to give away and tumble into the mound of pillows calling your name. But you held yourself up at the doorway, turning back to Steve and meeting his eyes - he was already watching you walk away. 

You swallowed hard, “And I’ll be the honest one here, tonight - you were the only thing stopping me from putting a bullet in my head for five years.”

Present Day, 2025, 7:02am

     You awoke startled, your gasp a little raspy as it sounded off in the quiet room. Your internal clock was already stressing you out, letting you know that you seriously had to get up now, even before your alarm rang. 

Dread swam in the pit of your stomach, swirling the pound of breadsticks you had last night. Yesterday had been your last ‘in between’ day, the last day to truly map out your next steps before you actually had to execute them. You would see everyone today, tomorrow, and the next - the next the final, the endgame. 

You rolled over and glanced at Steve. His bed was empty, sheets folded and pillows fluffed, and the bathroom was open and empty. 

With a pinch of your eyebrows, you groaned as you flipped your legs over the side of your bed. You stilled, but there was no other sound. 

Steve really wasn’t here. 

For a second, you were angry. You couldn’t believe he literally left you alone, after basically defiling you and you himself, on a day that would for sure strike a major nerve in your crippling anxiety. It was low, like you were left to pick up your heels and proceed with the walk of shame down the hotel hallways.

But then the next second, you were relieved. You could take this moment to relive last night, to hatch out every single detail, to somehow make sense of just what the hell happened. It had been so fucking hot, so fucking overdue, and god, did you want to do it again. Steve’s absence allowed you to squeal in both delight and disbelief. 

You had fondled… had sex with?... humped?... your literal Captain. Sure, you had crossed a boundary in this ten-year friendship and rivalry, a boundary that was now completely exed out and erased really, but it wasn’t literal sex. Right?

It was certainly something if you had learned one thing from Sex Ed 101. Intimacy was intimacy. Yeah, you and Steve shared… intimacy. 

It took all your willpower to shrug off the rest of the blankets and start getting ready. There wasn’t much to do except hope that your guns didn’t jam or Seda didn’t ambush you. Quickly shooting off a text to Wanda, you waited for her much needed call. 

‘Hey, what’s up?’

You let out a long hum, face lifted toward the ceiling as you thought about how you would phrase last night’s events to her. “So, like, I’m gonna kill myself.”

‘Back up. Explain?’

“Ahhhhh, Wanda! I fucked up. We fucked up.”

Wanda’s voice sounded frantic, ‘Did the mission go wrong? Where’s Scott? Steve? Torres?’

You groaned, stomping your foot like the literal child you were. “Wanda, me and Steve did something last night.”

Wanda was silent for a few moments, her quick breaths evening out as she collected her thoughts. ‘Are you trying to tell me, that while trying to tell me you had sex with Steve last night, you made it sound like we would have had to all suit up to save your asses all the way across the country?’

Grateful she couldn’t see you blush, you responded as if you were trying to still keep the events a secret. “Well, when you put it like that!”

‘Did you and Steve actually…?’

“No, no! But we… touched and stuff.”

‘Is this high school? Spit it out.’

It was basic instinct to inspect the room again before you admitted it. “We sort of just, got each other off. Like, handjobs and such.”

Wanda let out a sound that resembled both a groan and a chuckle. ‘High school.’

You threw yourself back into bed, rolling around and throwing pillows all over the place. “It was so hot.”

‘You don’t need to give me the specifics.’

“Who else am I supposed to talk with? Bucky?”

Wanda choked on her laugh, ‘Okay, okay. I see your point.’

“What does this mean?” you asked both her and yourself. 

‘I’m gonna tell you something that you might not like to hear, okay?’

“Ugh, don’t scare me.”

Wanda chuckled before she continued, ‘This doesn’t surprise me.’

You practically strained your back from snapping up from bed so quickly. “What do you mean ‘you’re not surprised’?”

There was slight shuffling on the other line. ‘I owe Peter fifty dollars.’

You huffed loudly, “What do you mean by that, Wanda?”

Wanda sighed, ‘Look, we weren’t here during those five years. We weren’t here to see you two together. But Bruce told us how you two were during that time. Even when you were ignoring each other for months after, you didn’t hesitate to protect each other.’

You shook your head, as if she could see you. “He abandoned me for a good while.”

Wanda interrupted, ‘You saved him at the height of your fighting.’

You rolled your eyes, “He’s my Captain, of course I saved him.”

‘You didn’t have to.’

Your thoughts were flying at a hundred miles an hour, colliding with one another at top speeds. You opted to forgo that memory. It was shelved, to be revisited later. 

Changing the subject to a much less dramatic topic, the phone call lasted for another fifteen minutes before you seriously had to finish getting ready. 

The talk helped. But it didn’t answer any questions you had. The answers lay in the one place you really didn’t want to explore right now. Maybe after breakfast.

      Scott stumbled out of the elevator with very sleepy eyes, fingers still digging into their corners as he made his way to the hotel bar. Steve was seated in the farthest chair from the entrance just casually sipping orange juice. 

“What was so urgent that I had to wake up before my alarm?” Scott groaned as he slid into the seat beside him. 

Steve’s eyes were glued to his drink. He was bouncing his leg wildly. “I’m sorry, I just…”

It didn’t take a genius to know that when someone was nursing an orange juice in the hotel bar, head hanging low and with a massive pout, there was something incredibly wrong. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m just cranky when I have to get up early.”

Steve waved his hand, “No, don’t apologize. I get it. I mean it.”

Scott ordered his own glass. He spread his lips into a thin line, “Did you want to talk? I’m a great listener. I could listen to Luis go on for hours on end.”

“I need to tell someone.”

“I’m all ears.”

Steve hesitated for only a second, downing the orange juice as if it was a shot. He ordered another. “I kissed Y/N last night.”

“Are you serious?” Scott’s eyes widened and he gurgled his juice on accident. He didn’t know what to say. Congratulations? 

“And we messed around a little bit.”

Now Scott tilted his head to the side and gave the super soldier an amused glare. “Messed around? What is this, the third grade?”

Steve cringed, “I hope to God no third graders are messing around.”

His juice was long forgotten now. “Then call it like it is, Captain. You ‘serviced the Venus’, you ‘made whoopee’, you -”

“That’s calling it like it is?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Very. We just… touched and stuff.”

Steve’s awkward hand gestures caused Scott’s lip to twitch itself into a weird smile. “You ‘cleaned your rifle’? You did the ‘loop-de-loop?”

“Where in the hell are you getting these things from? You think we actually talked like this back in the forties?” Steve covered his ears and lay his forehead against the counter. 

“Sorry, sorry. I was just having a little fun.” Scott apologized, trying to make eye contact even as Steve’s head was lowered. “Sorry, no fun.” Still, Steve remained sheltered. “Damn, man. Did something else happen that you’re not telling me?”

Finally, Steve turned his head to look at Scott but left it resting against the counter. “I feel like we crossed a line.”

“You technically violated the mission code of ethics, but.”

Steve snapped up and covered his face with his hands, index fingers pinching the corners of his eyes. “But kissing her didn’t feel wrong. Holding her didn’t feel wrong.”

Scott was in the middle of a rom com. He had to be. There was always that scene where one of the partners freaked out because they themselves didn’t know their own feelings. They would cower in their own little world for about fifteen minutes, or at least fifteen minutes of screentime, and then gain the courage to talk it through. Scott was just that random friend who happened to ask what was wrong. 

But you and Steve were his teammates. The two of you had helped him get his family back. You had been so excited to try out the time machine, shutting everyone else up as they bullied him for simply having the idea. Steve risked his life for him more times than he could count in the past two years. He always suspected something was wrong between the two of you. But no one was brave enough to openly speak about what had happened that night. He just knew what Sam had told him - ‘It’s none of our business. They’re both acting like children. But Steve, even though I love him with all my heart, royally fucked up.’

“Then why are you so worried? Steve, I wasn’t around those five years. Only you know your relationship with her.”

“I don’t deserve it,” Steve mumbled.

His ears were playing tricks. He had gone deaf. “Huh?”

Steve explained further, his face falling with each new confession he spoke verbally. He hadn’t even discussed these feelings with his therapist. Granted, he only spoke of you when you were being a pain in his ass, but romantically? “I don’t deserve to touch her, to have her, to be with her. I left her alone at her most vulnerable, and that you were here for so you know.”

Scott shook his head, “But I have no real say in that. Like I said, only you know what you feel.”

He finished his juice and leaned back in his chair. He clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder and they both turned their attention to the tiny television mounted on the wall playing the morning news. It was hard to believe that a couple years ago, Scott had completely fangirled over being in Steve’s presence. Now he was one of his closest friends. 

His next thought seemed to register slowly and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Wait, did you leave her to wake up alone?”

Steve paused and bit down on his tongue. “I, may have done that.”

Scott nodded as he received the confirmation. “You know, Bucky and Wanda have a bet going on over which of you will kill the other first. I think you tipped the victory to her, man.”

Steve returned the slap to the shoulder and stood up. “Thanks, Scott.”

He followed Steve out the entrance. “I don’t feel like this conversation is over, but you gotta go back up there. I’m always here if you want to talk.”

Steve sent him a genuine smile as he walked backwards to the stairs instead of the elevator. “Don’t bring it up.”

Scott saluted him, “I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.”

“That didn’t make any-”

Scott clicked the button for the elevator and waved Steve off, “It’s from a show my daughter used to watch, hey, you know what, forget about it.”

    Steve doesn’t quite know what propels him up the stairs instead of the elevator, but it’s probably the need to burn at least one calorie before facing the music. It was an idiotic move leaving you alone to unravel such a major change, and Steve was tired of running. The amount of times he claimed he could ‘do this all day’ and yet, he let the final battle dictate his life afterward. He was just so tired of running from things that required him to stay, and staying for things that destroyed his mental health. 

Scott carried the conversation as they reentered the room, finding you already dressed and smiling bright. But that smile was directed at Scott, a brilliant smile that Steve had been the recipient of just yesterday. 

God, he really fucked up, didn’t he?

“We got a plan?”

It was like clockwork, movements fluid and known. The three of you were slightly out of it, missions depleting in urgency and all. The last mission you had been on in the last two years, besides the ones your father sent you on, had been to a base in Prague where you ran a two-week surveillance on a doctor who was trying to recreate the super soldier serum. Even then there wasn’t much of a physical fight and you were mainly there to assist Sam and Bucky. 

“We’ll get there by 9. You’ll have to shrink down before we even pass the gates.”

Scott drafted the specifics in his notebook, taking careful notes on what he was to look for inside your father’s office. He was instructed to hack the keyboard to list the most used formations of characters, scan for fingerprints, and work through the paper files your father hadn’t yet had time to put away. Once a password was figured out, then the hacking would commence during the rehearsal dinner. 

“Y/N and I will be led through the estate by Seda, no doubt. Once you hear that we’re seated and enjoying breakfast, you can start your deep search.”

Scott added the finishing touches to his suit - upgrades from both Hank and Tony, before he passed of course. 

“Anything I should know? I’m going in blind while you guys have some experience with this crowd.”

You attached the camouflage mic to the back of your neck as you responded, “His office hallway doesn’t have cameras. Neither does the inside. You, as well as Steve and I, are under strict orders to not kill anyone.”

Scott squinted his eyes, “I wasn’t planning on doing that anyway.”

You chuckled, “These are violent people, Scott. In order to win, we need to play the part. Which means unless we say the safe word ‘widow’, you can’t intervene.”

Scott searched your face for a joke, the briefing you all had before you shipped out replaying in his head. You had mentioned Seda shot you and that your father basically hated you, but to see you serious now - it was a little unnerving. Sure, he fought aliens and faced off against some of the most evil forces in the universe. But this was family, and when it was family with the evil gene, it made everything much more horrible.

“Okay.”

You all gathered your equipment and headed down to the car. Steve safely hid the shield in the trunk, foregoing any additional weapons than those already attached to his person. He couldn’t risk Ernesto’s men randomly searching the car during breakfast. 

You were already waiting in the passenger seat when Scott gripped Steve’s arm as they finished loading the trunk. 

“You protect her, alright?”

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew Scott wasn’t doubting his ability to do so, but his trust was being enlisted. There wasn’t even a second option. 

Steve would grip the heavens by their feet and pull for the creation of even more fallen angels just for you. 

“I will.” 

     The drive to the estate was a lot less stressful this time. Only because you knew who to expect now. You wouldn’t be catching up with your sister until tomorrow, and you already had an idea what your father was scheming up. The three of you just drove in silence, Steve at the wheel and Scott in the backseat. 

You thought, maybe Steve didn’t fully regret what happened after all. Leaving in the morning was for sure a dick move, but his attitude wasn’t one of someone who would simply ‘hit it, and quit it’. You took pride in what you knew about your Captain, about Steve as a separate entity, and you always expected the best from him. 

Anyone who thought or assumed otherwise was an idiot.

Scott had shrunk down and prepared his own mics as Steve drove onto the deserted dirt road. There were dozens of cars parked outside, but it looked as if their owners were all workers. Considering the wedding was only two days away and the rehearsal dinner was tomorrow, the workers multiplied and were working overtime. Leave it to your father to make the finishing touches at the last minute. 

Once again, Seda stood outside to greet you and Steve. He looked extra chipper this morning, his aging face contorted into an almost painful smile. And you knew that whenever he smiled at you, he wasn’t harboring the greatest intentions. 

“Good to see you again!”

You slung your arm through Steve’s, unconscious to the fact that Scott stood on your shoulder and hid behind strands of hair. You responded, “Careful, you’ll get cavities with that much sweetness.”

His smile fell slightly, and he looked away to roll his eyes. “Must be contagious considering you’re so full of sugar!”

“You’re weird when you’re nice.”

“Now, I was just about to say the same thing.” Seda held his hand out to Steve, delighted in the strength of his grip. “Captain.”

Steve smirked, a dangerous glint settling in his eyes. The longer hair and beard really did make him look like the anti-Cap. “Sir. Are you joining us for breakfast?”

Seda turned to walk through the open doors. “Of course. Ernesto’s business is as much mine as it is his.”

You let out a tiny snort, “Don’t think he would agree.”

Seda rotated on his heel so quickly the sound of the squeak echoed through the vast mansion. He held his finger out at you, that famous scowl you had grown accustomed to finally making its appearance. “Bite your tongue.”

In an instant, Steve gripped your cheeks and chin with one hand, holding you still to look at Seda. He hated this. He wanted to fight them now.

While you were held in place for him, Seda stepped closer. You could feel the heat of his breath. “I carried this empire while he was dirt.”

Steve’s hand was loose, but his wild look could easily be mistaken for anger toward you. 

Seda’s eyes were cold, filled with an undeniable amount of hatred and selfishness, like he wanted to see you beg for forgiveness. No matter the countless times when any other human being would be crying for mercy, you never did. And Seda despised this skill with all his tainted soul. 

“And look where that got you. Right back in second place.”

For the second time this week, Steve wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

Seda’s facial muscles flinched, but he kept his composure. There were too many outside workers wandering around, instructed already to keep their mouths shut about who employed them and were to be paid under the table. With his own tongue bitten, he muttered almost achingly. “Breakfast is this way.”

Letting go of you after Seda turned back around, Steve gently massaged the sides of your chin for a few seconds as you walked. Turning your head quickly left and right and passing a room with no traceable cameras, you caught his hand and pressed your lips gently to his knuckles. Before he could truly enjoy the gentle gesture, you pulled away. And he knew you had to. You had to.

Scott took his leave, jumping onto the nearby potted plant and connecting back with Torres. 

Breakfast was served on the large patio near the west side of the estate. It overlooked a massive man-made lake, rocks circling the bank, and multiple lake chairs facing it. The estate was well hidden away in the forest, tall pine trees enveloping the illegal nature of all that was said and done. The clouds were creating a dark overcast that meant it was going to rain later, maybe soon, and it was going to be heavy. The crew outback had constructed a massive wooden canopy ‘tent’ that extended from one side of land to the other. So if it did rain on the day of the wedding, the only evidence of it would be the wetness reflecting off the soft violet lights they were just now hanging. The tables were set up, minus the chairs and wall decorations, and the staff were barely constructing the floor. 

By instinct, you had already clocked the easiest exit routes and hiding places. The warehouse near the lake looked sturdy - two windows wide enough to shoot from. Steve would have to crouch down low though, so perhaps the wooden table could serve as a temporary shield. 

There had to be a way to casually bring that shield to both the rehearsal dinner and wedding without raising red flags. 

Seda paused and excused himself. While Steve entertained the questions of some of the men casually strolling through, you reached into your pocket and pulled out some new tech you had been dying to finally use. Tony had messed around with so many personalized gadgets for everyone. Peter had his flying spiders, Clint had his flying stars and arrows, and you had your flying butterflies. Little metallic wonders with life-like wing speed that recorded its surroundings and transcribed for your report later. 

It flew gracefully, circling around the tables and even stopping on the window’s edge for a natural effect before flying near Seda and whoever he was talking to. It fluttered and settled, a small light emitting from its antennas. It would fly back once the subject chosen finished speaking. 

While you waited, you wandered. You hadn’t really explored this estate since you were a child but from what you remembered, there was always something new to discover. As a kid, you had asked whoever was present, ‘Is this real?’, ‘Was it alive before?’, ‘How old is this?’.

Roman busts, paintings hanging and stored alike, the ivory tusks. Didn’t seem like your father was collecting much these days. Dust was settled and undisturbed and the stuffed animals needed a serious scrub. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if your father had stashed away the damn tesseract at one point or another. 

“Oh, yeeesss,” you whispered, scurrying to the trunk hidden below the pile of discarded tablecloths and curtains. No one else ventured to these rooms, and although there were priceless items stashed away here, they normally functioned as the children's playrooms. There was more money to be made selling drugs than selling ancient artifacts. 

Just like many of the other rooms, this room was basically abandoned. No evidence of swiped fingers or anything. Your attention was drawn to the black trunk, scratched up on the left side and lock practically useless. If you remembered correctly, your iPod shuffle and middle school diary should be in here. 

As corny as that sounded, perhaps the diary had something inside you could work with and use to help aid in the mission. 

The trunk creaked and moaned as you lifted the lid open. You blew the excess of cobwebs away, scanning the corners quickly for any live spiders. Just in case. 

You did, in fact, find the diary. But only the first ten pages were filled out and dated, detailing the story, and quote, ‘2011, what a stupid number! Can’t anything but violence happen?’

Yes young Y/N, you thought to yourself, 2012 was one hell of a year and infinitely worse than stupid little 2011. 

The mountain of miscellaneous items was astounding, swirling up the childhood emotions you seriously missed. There was just something about random, mix-matched, old items that made you giddy. 

When Shield returned Steve’s belongings that had been locked in storage or in the museum when he was pronounced KIA, you were the one bouncing up and down behind him as he opened the boxes. He’d inspect the old watch, pencil set, photographs, clothing item, whatever and then pass it over to you. And he’d pretend to act annoyed by your interest, but the fact that you wanted to learn more about Steve and his life before the war - it was humbling. 

‘Hey, Y/N. You want to know how much porn I just found on Seda’s personal laptop?’

Your whole body was overcome by shivers. You nudged the mic to turn it up louder. “Scott, what the fuck?”

He tried to contain his laughter. ‘My mission is to hunt, gather, and hack. You’ll be pleased to know I got more than just their internet history.’

“Ew.”

A small, red velvet box shoved in the upper left hand corner caught your attention. It’s engraving showed none other than ‘Oxford University’ and that was enough to conclude this too was stolen. You chuckled at how ridiculous this all was. 

Believe it or not, the most legal things in the estate were the stuffed exotic animals and tusks of ivory that had been collected before the nationwide bans. 

This small box contained a few dozen coins from ancient Rome, all of different faces and years. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you mumbled, finger-fishing through the box. You made a mental note to instruct your team to also seize and catalog everything that was stolen here. Give Fury more of a headache. 

The figurehead on one of the coins made you pause for a second. The artwork was not as professional as much larger engravings found on the other coins or artifacts, but the features were proud. It was of a man, curly hair and beard to match, with a prominent and strong nose. If you squint hard enough, the hair and beard were Steve’s, absolutely as he had it groomed right now. Last time Steve had grown his hair out this long he was on the run. Guess he really missed the rugged look. 

But that nose. Strong and long and definitely punched to the brim many times before. The last person to set it had been Clint - and the reset had left it looking slightly crooked. Just like the man on the coin. 

“What a beak you got on you, Rogers,” you smiled. You shut the box after pocketing the coin. Making sure everything else was in place, you exited and checked your mic for any unusual activity. You could hear Steve casually speaking and Scott humming under his breath. 

Your little butterfly was spinning in a large circle until it spotted you. It reattached itself to your belt discreetly. 

Seda marched back, looking more annoyed than when he had first greeted you. “Shall we?”

Similar to how he was situated back in his office, comfortable and relaxed in his element, your father sat closest to the lake around the round table, no doubt enjoying the breeze aimed in his direction. The table was full of various foods - mostly fruit and drinks - but there were sides of meats and bread hidden in the pile. 

Ernesto looked like an innocent old man bathed in the colorful array. He was eighty-two (if you count those five years, then he’s only seventy-seven), and it wasn’t just the fruit that made him seem innocent - with the absence of a scowl or a gun in his unbelievably steady hand, he looked like every old man on the planet. An old man with a secret. 

“It’s not everyday you get to dine with the Captain America!”

Already his voice annoyed Steve. But as eloquent as ever, he responded lightly. “It’s an honor, sir.”

Your father sipped his juice, waiting until you were both seated to continue. “So polite, I remember how it used to be.”

Steve shrugged, “The good ole’ days.”

“Exactly. You see, I’m hoping to bring those good ole’ days back.”

“Gonna run for office?” you quipped, reaching over to pop a grape into your mouth. 

Keeping his eyes trained on Steve, your father retorted. “Your jokes aren’t that funny, Y/N.”

“I think I’m pretty funny,” you mumbled through a funny frown. 

The sooner you get some valuable information, the sooner you could leave. At least, that’s what Steve had been reciting in his head as he bit his tongue at your attempt at being funny. “What did you have in mind?”

Ernesto stretched, motioning for the men behind him to pass him some documents from a nearby table. He passed them to Steve, completely ignoring you. “You see, I’m thinking of expanding business. Not just here in the U.S and in Mexico, but across the Atlantic.”

You resisted the urge to sneak a peek at the documents. So you opted to keep him talking. “Woah, you’re not thinking of toppling White, are you?”

Ernesto scoffed, “You think I have a death wish? No, I’m thinking of joining forces.”

You played dumb. “What?”

Seda squinted, stepping forward and gripping your wrist mid-air, evidently stopping you from popping another grape into your mouth. Steve turned his head to stare at Seda with a real and deep grimace, basically instructing him to let go of you as soon as possible. Acting like an asshole when your father was the instigator was one thing, and he hated that he had to bend over for him. But Seda wasn’t in charge, nor would he ever be again, and his hand on you didn’t have to be tolerated. Yes, he knew to keep up the asshole act, but obsessive and protective boyfriend fit the bill as well, he assumed. 

Reluctantly, Seda got the message and let you go. He answered your question after a few awkward seconds, “Expanding into Europe means we dominate the world. Everyone knows that. Europe is the epicenter.”

Oblivious to the whole stare down, you resumed your questioning. “And we come in, where?”

“Your missions - they take you across the ocean, yes?” your father chimed in. 

“Sometimes, sir. We’re away pretty often.” Steve answered. 

“Then that’s perfect. All those opportunities to smuggle my product on your company planes.”

You scrunched your eyebrows in deep thought, almost like you were doing the math in your head. “I doubt the quinjet would pass a weight inspection, Father.”

Ernesto raised his hands in mock offense. “Your Captain here should be able to pull some strings, no?”

Hiding his discomfort, Steve shrugged like it was no big deal. “It would certainly be a difficult task but we can pull through.”

No. Steve has never handled the product, he has never seen the product being moved, he has never signed off on anything pertaining to said product. Fury did - Fury set up everything, he made sure to keep Steve out of it, he protected the shield, he protected Steve. On your word.

Ernesto knew you were the one handling it. He knew Steve wasn’t anywhere near it since you made it abundantly clear that he only green lit the passage routes. 

He was doing this on purpose. Testing Steve’s loyalty in a way. Tying any Avenger’s gadgets to the smuggling, especially transportation methods that were rarely, if ever checked when entering a foreign country, was a violation.  And this violation would then make every Avenger a drug smuggler - a real one - and no one, not even Torres could back you up.  

Blinded by this possible reality, you countered with the best argument you had. “He’s ‘Captain America’. Which means he stays within our borders.”

Ernesto paused mid-drink, a grin forming. He stared at you in surprise, “I’m sorry, did you just give me an order?”

You backtracked, breath still steady. Steve tried to mask his worry by also drinking. “No, I’m trying to help you. What about Ramirez?”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

It was silent for a long while. Steve knew better than to come between the uncomfortable glares you and your father were sharing. Ernesto’s answer was confirmation enough for your proposed theory.

He ventured a glance at Seda, who was already looking at him. Confusion rattled him to the bone, but before he could dissect any possible assumption as to why, your father snapped his fingers. 

Seda moved too quickly. He always followed Ernesto’s orders like they were holy commandments, but he had seriously wanted this. He was the muscle after all. 

Seda picked you up out of your seat with the force of one hand, fingers gripped under your chin and squishing your cheeks painfully. With his other hand, he pushed your back forward and held you down on the table. The impact of your body had shattered the plate beneath your chest. But that pain was minimal compared to the elbow digging in between your shoulder blades. 

Almost as quickly as Seda had pounced, Steve was standing. The sound of every gun on the patio cocking rang in his ears, but god forbid that be louder than the sudden squeal that had left your mouth from the force of your assault.  

“See? I give the orders,” Ernesto said, still sitting casually in his seat. “Now, test me again.”

      “There are worse ways to go.”

Natasha was always so calm during these types of situations. A blank face that disguised the true fright she really felt, a mask in other words. But Steve knew the only reason she did that was for the benefit of those around her, regular civilian or superhero alike. She would always keep such a calm demeanor, voice steady and eyes boring into one’s soul as if to transfer whatever inner peace she could find. 

When he had found out Bucky was alive, unresponsive and an empty shell of a man HYDRA had made him, he crumbled into the panic attack he had long awaited. Being thrust into the 21st century without a lick of his past was one thing. But to barely start getting used to this new world, only to be handed the most crazy plot twist of his life, well, it was enough to destroy whatever progress he thought he made. 

And while he rocked himself through it, massive shoulders poking his jawline uncomfortably as he curled in on himself, Natasha had simply laid a cup of tea in front of him and retreated to the other corner of the room, no words exchanged. Good, because he didn’t want to talk about it. 

“Is everyone on?”

The planes were being loaded at the fastest rate they could, the only remaining Avengers on land being him, Natasha, and Clint. From what he could see.

“I gotta go get Banner. You head on over to Clint.”

And they functioned like that for the next few minutes, grabbing civilians along the way and praying they themselves would make it to one of those planes. The sudden shower of bullets crushed the hope of that, and Steve stared down at Pietro with an immense guilt about not getting there sooner. 

Losing a teammate, even if that teammate was recruited just a day ago, always hits hard. But they were the Avengers, and if any comic book or superhero movie had been right, then no one ever really died! Yeah, fat chance. 

Steve counted as many heads as he could. He saw Natasha off to the side, and Clint had just stumbled on, and Y/N was-

Wait, where were you?

Steve grabbed his shield and hooked it onto his back, running off the plane and back onto the floating land, ignoring Clint’s yells of ‘get the fuck back here, Rogers!’

“Does anyone have eyes on Y/N?”

The responses were no help; Rhodey had circled the city twice over searching for you, and there was no sign. Maybe you were with Wanda, maybe you were on another plane, maybe you were with Thor and he promised to pick you up and protect you once he catapulted himself - 

‘I’m gonna need you to get your ass back on that plane, Capsicle,’ Tony yelled, interrupting himself as he made painful contact with falling debris. 

Steve was on autopilot, scared out of his damn mind. He never wanted this job, he never wanted to continue working for the government, it was just war after war after war. He just wanted to find Bucky, he just wanted to settle down with a fucking cat or something, he just wanted to live the life he missed out on. But he was also hell bent on saving everyone he could. A sick satisfaction of using the serum’s gifts for what he was built for, a science project and weapon of war. He hated it, he wanted to shrivel back down to his ninety-pound self and pay a goddamn penny for a movie screening again. 

But he had a job to do and he was one of the few people on earth who could actually accomplish it. So, no - Steve will not quit when people need him. He’ll just have to bear it some other way; belt in between his teeth as he clenches down. Because Steve would literally destroy himself for any of his teammates until he was nothing but a pile of discarded remains. 

“What the hell are you still doing on land, Captain?”

He whipped his head to the side and found you, holding a frightened looking dog in your arms, smudges of rubble covering your cheeks and bodysuit. “Oh my god.”

You stomped over to him, the dog clutched to your chest and a tiny limp in your step. “Answer me, Rogers!”

Steve only stared, blinking quickly until an invisible boot kicked him back into gear. His voice was high-pitched as he screamed at you. “You went back for the dog?”

Your face contorted, “Of course I went back for the fucking dog!”

A ridiculous thing, an utter masterpiece of work you were, a vice that gripped him by the throat and would always press down tighter until he was gasping for breath. You went back for the damn dog, and he was about to break down crying not knowing where you were. He just lost one teammate - he couldn’t lose another.

“Well, let’s go!”

Your voice seemed to shock him back into Captain America mode, and as the city leveled and the ground started to break apart, he hoisted you up and onto the plane while making the leap himself. 

     At this point, Steve would blindly agree to anything. If it meant pulling you out of this, he’d do it. He found himself negotiating instantly, like any other hostage situation he had dealt with. “I’m sure our planes can handle a few extra pounds.”

Made sense for Steve to agree - wasn’t like it was going to happen anyway. But the mere thought of having him take the fall for this entire mission going sideways, well, it had ignited the stupid part of your brain. You could have blown this whole mission. You could have blown it all because your father had been doing what he does best: taunting you. And you let it happen. 

“I have already sent word to White that your Captain will be working with him now, too. Anything to topple Ramirez from the top three.”

You lifted your head to glare at your father. “Why didn’t I get a say? I’m as influential as you two!” You grit your teeth. “You did this without consulting us first. So, then what was this?”

Seda applied the full force of his weight, his elbow now pinching into the muscle and causing you to see black spots. You tried to restrain your scream, but it escaped. A few birds left their perch, flying away from the high-pitched noise.

Steve saw red. Bursting flames that climbed and licked up to formless heights and blurred his vision to the point he was pre-serumed, standing small and physically weak again. And pre-serum Steve would happily accept the punches he had coming if he dare intervene. But even if this red was bolstering hot and clawing at his flesh, stepping in now would mean chaos. He couldn’t do anything, he was restricted, strapped down by your own rule, and helplessly watching as your face twisted in pain. 

He felt his heart tearing in two, and yet his face remained calm. Calm and collected. 

“See this as a means to inform you.”

If Seda were to push down again, you figured you’d go out fighting. “A coup? Father, you shouldn’t have.”

“Do we have a deal?” 

If he hooked his arm under the left side of the table and threw it at the correct angle, he would blindside your father and throw Seda off balance, allowing you to take him down. But there were men posted to both his sides and behind him, guns already cocked like they had suspected Captain America to react negatively. 

Scott had to be hearing everything, the poor guy, but you had also instructed him to let you be thrown around like a ragdoll, that you were used to it. Knowing Scott, he would honor your word as scripture for the sake of the mission.

Steve couldn’t stand to look at you in pain anymore. A small part of him wanted to yell, ‘Well stop talking and he’ll get the hell off you!’, like it was ultimately your fault, but he swallowed that shallow thought and bargained instead. “I’ll be needing a copy of your word. For insurance purposes.”

If there was one thing Ernesto respected, it was a man with his own personal agenda. “I knew I liked him, Y/N. A man who knows what he wants and how to make sure it lasts.”

You reached over discreetly, finding Steve’s hand to squeeze tightly. He squeezes back.

The next few minutes were a blur, really. You passed it with pinched eyes and a few uncomfortable moans as Steve and your father wrote up a formal agreement. 

Seda removed himself after Steve signed. You tried not to think too much of it; the contract can be considered void. Torres would look into it. Steve will not become truly involved. 

Your father excused himself and Seda after the pen left paper, leaving the both of you alone.

Steve wanted to hold you, to shield you with his own flesh and bone, to remind you he was on your side. That he would always be on your side. 

The men who escorted you were deep in their own conversations, guns still raised but minds momentarily distracted. So he reached for your hand, an involuntary chuckle escaping him as he saw Scott’s miniature self hiking up the arm he had just grabbed. Your grip was loose, like your mind was elsewhere. 

You all entered the car and buckled up without alerting the men of any wrongdoings. Scott waited until you drove past the cameras and the estate grew smaller in his eyes to return to his normal size. 

They were both worried, eyes meeting in the mirror as if to communicate it. You were so silent, so still, simply looking out the window. Their voices were slightly distorted, far away calls for your attention and you were drowning, suffocating and forgetting that when caught in a riptide, you need to swim sideways and not directly to land-

One quick sob was all it took for Steve to check his mirrors and turn the car into the crowd of pine trees, burying the three of you in their depth and providing temporary solace from the outside world. Your throat burned and itched with the need to cry harder, but you stopped yourself. 

This had happened before. You’ve been subdued and taunted before. Hell, worse has happened to you and you always seemed to hold in the tears until you were in the comfort of your own room or in Natasha’s arms. 

But there was no single room for you to run off to and there was no more Natasha-

It took a moment to register that your seatbelt had been unbuckled, Steve had exited the vehicle, and Scott was already tugging you by the underarms and into the backseat. You were then squished between the two men, with Steve manually tilting your head to rest on the expanse of his chest and Scott with his arms wrapped around your waist to mimic a massive bear hug. 

They let you ride out whatever broken sobs your body produced. There were few tears and your breakdown was amateur at best, but you still broke. There was no point in trying to diminish its importance. You were here, and you had both fresh and dry tear streaks, and it was important to feel. 

At least that’s what Steve had been reciting for the past two minutes as he ran his fingers through your hair. 

You sniffed and wiped your cheeks, rolling your eyes at yourself. “I’m sorry, this is really embarrassing.”

Scott leaned back to stare at you in pure disbelief, “You have every right to scream, to cry, to tear this world apart. You have a right to feel.”

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe him. 

If Scott wasn’t here, perhaps Steve would allow himself to cry with you. His masculinity was intact, thank you very much, but Scott didn’t need to console two people at once. So he swallowed his pain, secured it back into the safe within his heart that was specifically constructed for you, and held you tighter. 

Out of nowhere, Scott patted your thigh multiple times like a child begging for attention. “We need comfort food. We’ve all had a rough day and it’s not even two o’clock yet! Nothing some french fries and burgers can’t fix!”

It had slipped your mind how little you had actually gotten to eat. Just a few sips of coffee and some grapes. Wasn’t your fault there were more important things to focus on. 

“Can we get, like, a massive tray of fries?” you smiled. 

Scott’s eyes lit up. 

Lots of things are so simple. Or, in theory. Boiling water is simple. Doing laundry. Pumping gas. 

But then there are those simple things that are just not so accessible to everyone. Like, it was simple for Bruce to learn and teach theoretical physics. It was simple for Peter to catch a bus with his bare hands. It was simple for Thor to call upon thunder and lightning and for Loki to cause some mischief. 

For Steve, eating his body weight in fries was simple. 

For Scott, opening the ketchup packets without his thumbs sliding was simple. 

For you, stealing Steve’s fries was simple. 

Maybe because he didn’t stop you. 

     It’s crazy how just a few hours with some close friends made every problem in the world seem nonexistent. You were replenished, in a sense, ready to put any embarrassment and self-hatred behind you in preparation for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow. Everything up until now was child’s play - now, there were no restraints. You were instructed to strike on the wedding day as that was the day the shipment was moving, but if anything truly dangerous occurred tomorrow, Fury had given the green light to shoot.

It would have been a blessing to just have one more quiet night in, maybe enjoy some more special alone time with Steve. There was a conversation to be had, feelings to be discussed, an argument to start. There needed to be screaming, and crying, and eye rolling - all needed to happen. 

Yes, that would have been great. 

Steve launched the shield across the room the second Scott pushed open the door, the crack of bone and vibranium sounding off. Scott had already unclicked his gun safety, weapon pointed directly at the intruder - who had collapsed to the floor with a bleeding shin clutched in between his hands. You didn’t even realize your gun was also out and cocked. Instinct - skill you had acquired from Natasha and Rhodey. 

Sometimes you wish you could forget how to hold a gun altogether. 

Ramirez was on the floor, having only released a loud howl when the shield connected. He just panted lowly, eyes squeezed shut. He desperately tried to raise his hands. 

“Please… don’t shoot.”

Steve stepped forward, shield braced and covering both you and Scott. You stayed near the door in case Ramirez had any other friends visiting. 

You turned on your mic and hoped it patched through. “Widow.” 

“How did you get past security? How did you know which hotel we were at?”

Ramirez looked over at you, eyes pleading for help from Steve’s questions or from the physical pain. You really couldn’t tell. 

“Answer the questions, Omar.” You used his first name - that told him you were serious. 

“Someone took their smoke break.” He breathed in uneven cycles. “I followed you the first day you arrived.”

Completely baffled, you looked to Scott for some answer he clearly didn’t have. 

“That’s not possible. Our people swept the area, we had eyes on you and-”

Ramirez interrupted shyly, “You had eyes on me. Not my connections.”

“Your men were followed, too.”

Although he was groaning, he still responded as softly as possible. “Connections, mija. They aren’t all a part of the mob.”

Every guest who checked in and out of the hotel were screened for that week. Every employee was vetted. 

“If you’re wondering who it was, I’ll save you the time and say it was simply a passerby who didn’t even enter the hotel. Just followed, then made a U-turn.”

Scott scoffed and lowered his gun, “If it really was that easy…”

Steve kneeled to be eye-level with Ramirez. “Then that means Ernesto already knows about Scott and Torres.”

As quickly as Steve declared this, Ramirez shook his head. “No! I’m not on Ernesto’s side anymore. Haven’t been for a long time!”

“Prove it.”

Ramirez stared at you, eyes pleading for trust. He didn’t look all that intimidating. Short black hair, wrinkles minimal and clothes well-pressed, slim and dark skin clear of any blemishes - he looked like every guy who you would see at the bank. He remained pleading even after Steve patted him down. 

Still kneeling and leg slightly extended to relieve some of the pain, he started to explain himself. “I know when people are acting.”

“What?”

“When you pressed the gun to her chin,” he motioned his hand between you and Steve, “you held her hand.”

Lowering your gun and dropping your shoulders, you released a deep sigh. “You were behind us.”

He agreed, “I was behind you.” He inspected the room with a small smile, glancing at all three of you in amusement. Once his sight rested on Steve, he tipped his chin up and smirked. “I heard you could pick up Thor’s hammer.”

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, annoyed, and turned to check the hallway. Your mic was muffled, but you swore you could make out the voices of Torres and Sam.

“Any man who can do that is good, right?”

Scott nodded, “According to legend-”

Steve blinked at him, “Scott.”

“That little gesture of care, plus the cell phone videos I saw you in from two years ago-” Ramirez started, but was interrupted. 

Steve squinted, “Saw us where?”

“The phone videos on Youtube.”

You stepped back into the room, stuttering over your words. “What phone videos? Be clearer.”

“You defended that child. The - the spider child,” he pointed at Steve, wincing as he shifted his leg. “And you got into that bar fight, busted someone's head into the floor.”

“No, PR made sure they were deleted. Hill said there was no trace of them-”

“My two youngest daughters were fifteen at the time. They knew about the video the minute it aired. They saved it.”

Scott sighed, shaking his head at the memory of having to bail both you and Sam out of jail. It was a nice turn of the tables, though. “...We didn’t factor in the possibility of teenagers screen recording?”

Ramirez chuckled, “Seems not.”

     It was certainly an eventful night for PR. A complete disaster they had to cover up and twist for the media. There were four Avengers mixed up in this chaos, and since the perpetrators didn’t quite succeed in kicking your asses, PR might just finish the job for them. 

On one side of town, Steve was responding to an urgent call from Happy asking if he was in the vicinity. Peter had been visiting a study group in Brooklyn, careful as ever, but still stumbled upon bullies. Steve lived close and instead of ringing the whole team, Happy put his trust in the person Tony would have also called. 

It was a scene he hoped he would never have to witness again. To see such cruelty months after the final battle, a battle everyone knew the kid played a major part in, it tore Steve apart shred by miserable shred.

Peter was crouched against an alley wall, shielding his face with his arms as five boys around his age pounded away. He appeared to be clutching his phone, the line still connected with Happy, and he was begging them to stop. 

Steve had never run so fast. He dodged a few cars and strollers along the way, mind fogged with desperation and anger. He now knew how Bucky felt when he saved Steve from all those alley fights back in the day.

It didn’t even register in his mind that he had pulled at least two of the boys away and threw them into the opposite wall, or that he had clutched one's throat so tight that Peter’s thumbs were now digging under his clenched palm with the plea of ‘Cap, let him go!’.  

He dropped the boy, no more than seventeen, on the ground and stepped away to inspect Peter. A busted lip, what looked to be two purpling eyes, torn clothing, and bruises along his ribcage that showed through the new holes in his shirt. The five boys all stood and cowered backwards. 

They shouted and name-called, spit on the floor and taunted the two superheroes. It wasn’t until Peter leaned into Steve’s chest and pushed him back that Steve realized one of the boys was recording the whole thing. 

Against his better judgement, he let them go. There wasn't anything beneficial to be done besides file a police report - not that it would do much anyway. 

He took Peter back to his apartment and called Happy himself. He stitched the nasty cut on the kid’s forehead. He fed him some soup and crackers. He gave him some spare clothes that had shrunk in the washer. Peter’s smile was so broken as he interrupted the silence while Steve cleaned away the dry blood, a simple explanation of ‘I obviously couldn’t fight back’. 

And fuck, Steve knew the kid was right. 

On the other side of town, the night had started pretty nicely. Two beers in and your conversation with Sam was littered with constant laughter and childhood stories. The bar wasn’t that crowded for a Thursday night, just a few regulars and a small office party.

Your conversation was interrupted by two men who had clearly been holding their tongue. First they harassed you for being Avengers and destroying the city every other week - which granted, was a pretty reasonable argument. You let that one slide. But then they hassled you on who you employed: an ex-con who was clearly only abusing his influence on Hank Pym, a mental woman who took an entire town hostage because she was obviously evil at heart and a witch (‘fuck her children, what about mine?!’), and a teenager who had murdered a true superhero who was only trying to warn and rid the world of him. 

You and Sam remained seated, jaws clenched and hands wrapped tightly around your drinks. If you ignored them long enough, they would go away. The bartender will surely throw them out, they were becoming too rowdy. You were better than them and there was absolutely no need to freak out over words. They were just words. 

“I say we head on over to Queens and pay that sweet Aunt of his a visit!”

Sam let out a quick and prepared sigh, “Shit.”

He threw the first punch, launching himself at the biggest of the two men and hitting the ground. You leaped over the bar counter and tackled the second guy before he could join Sam’s fight. He was clearly caught off guard, arms fumbling wildly as he tried and failed to keep his balance. But your sudden momentum caused his decline, and you were hammering your fist down onto his face like your life depended on it. 

Sam quickly took his gun from his pocket and threw it across the room. He couldn’t risk either of the guys getting a hold of it. He rolled onto all fours before sweeping his leg to trip the guy as he attempted to stand. He shuffled and grabbed one of his arms, legs wrapping themselves over the dude’s shoulders and squeezing his neck. If there was one thing Natasha had taught her friends, it was how to subdue a man with just the thighs. 

The brawl lasted maybe a good two minutes before other customers stepped in and separated you. Out of anger, you kept kicking and struggling. It wasn’t until the doors burst open and police drew their batons that you realized you royally fucked up. Everything was eerily silent and out of pure personality, you scooted away from the remnants of the fight as discreetly (but most obviously) as you could. 

You were booked, charges later dropped. Sam’s mugshot showcased a thin smile, like he knew the record would be expunged within the hour. Yours displayed a cocked eyebrow and slightly pursed lips. 

Yeah, PR didn’t have a nice night.

     “What about the videos, Omar?”

Ramirez gave you a sincere look, “No one on Ernesto’s team risks their reputation like that. You have his rage, but he doesn’t have your morality. Save the next question, I know what you two were fighting about.”

Even if you did get caught and the videos went viral, there was no way the world could know your connections. “The world doesn’t know about my family connections. Fury made sure to never input it into Shield’s database.”

“Imagine how terrified Ernesto was when the Russian spilled all their secrets.”

“Natasha,” Steve asserted. “Her name was Natasha.”

Ramirez bowed his head, “Natasha. I’m sorry.” He turned back to you. “You were barely starting out when that happened, no?” 

You were getting impatient with no backup. “Your point?”

“You’re working against him, aren’t you? You’ve always been working against him.”

You raised your gun again and stalked toward him. “Choose your next words carefully.”

Again, he raised his hands in defense. “I’m not with him. He doesn’t know I’m here, neither does White.” 

There was a long pause as you all pondered over his admission. Even though you vouched for him just yesterday, there was still so much to consider before jumping to his conclusion. “I think they’re plotting to kill me.”

Steve chuckled under his breath, “We know.”

Ramirez reacted like he was just slapped in the face. “You know?”

After a long train of thought, Scott interjected with his own idea. “That plot of land you bought - it’s not for drugs, is it?”

“I mean, half of it is for drugs.”

“Omar,” you demanded.

“Yes, yes. But the other half is entirely unrelated.”

Scott motioned for him to continue, “Enlighten us.”

And the small, proud smile on his face gave you the feeling he really was telling the truth. “It’s a refugee camp.”

Steve stuttered, “Drugs and refugees?”

Ramirez pushed himself toward the nearby chair and hoisted himself up. “I know it sounds crazy. Trust me, I know.” He let out a pained hiss. “But the Mexican government has already approved it. Well, if you can call it a government. They’re one of the few who still haven’t recovered from everyone coming back.”

“So, what? Are you making the refugees work for you?” you questioned. 

Ramirez widened his eyes. “What? No, no! The drugs are for income. For food, shelter, medicine, todo lo demas!”

Steve huffed, “Let me guess. The drugs aren’t real and anyone who finds out the truth will turn a blind eye.”

“Exactly.”

It was obvious why Ramirez wanted someone to know about the possible scheme. But why that someone happened to be you and your team, you honestly didn’t know. By logic, if you had been playing your father all this time, wasn’t it reasonable to assume you had or continue to play Ramirez?

“And you’re telling us for what? To save your ass?”

Ramirez countered with a question of his own, “Why are you here? After what Seda did to you, I can’t believe it.”

“Stop, just stop.” You were about done with all of this.

“You’re here to arrest us, right? I’m assuming I’m included.”

You raised your head, trying desperately to depict true regret in the stare you gave him. “I’m sorry.”

He sadly shook his head, “Don’t apologize. I know why you’re doing it.” He turned to Steve. “I’m just asking for a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“Protect my daughter.”

Your jaw dropped lightly as you heard his selfless favor. “Your daughter?”

“Her name is on the deed. I think Ernesto wants my land.”

“And once you’re taken out, she’s the only thing standing in his way.”

“Either he marries her-” he took a long pause to breath in deep. “Or he kills her.”

“Take her off of it?” you stated with confidence since it was more of a suggestion than a question. 

A deep frown etched into his face. “She’s somewhere in Asia right now. I need her signature. And all the forgers haven’t called me back.” He sighed and reached down to grip his bloody shin again. “She won’t make it back in time for the legal route.”

Steve nodded in understanding. He surprised you by setting the shield down on the couch. “Then we won’t let anything happen.”

“Promise me.”

You started to express remorse about the situation but were immediately cut off. “We aren’t in the business of making pro-”

“We promise.” 

You turned your head sharply, eyes round and mouth dropped. It was all you could muster up to show Steve your shock. He ignored your judgement, even if he did just break one of the top ten rules on the ‘what not to do as a superhero!’ list. 

Finally, uniformed officers scrambled into the room with their weapons drawn. Torres led them, hair all disheveled and cheeks pink.  “I’m so sorry. The connection was hacked and the cameras were delayed-”

You moved to stand near him, “It’s okay. Hey, we’re okay.”

Torres kept eye contact with you for only a second more, not really accepting that his tardiness should be casually swept under the rug like that. He immediately signaled for his officers to arrest Ramirez. “Get on your knees.”

Ramirez raised his hands and tried to stand. “With all due respect, your Captain might’ve broken my leg. I can’t kneel again or else I might cry.”

You tugged at Torres’s jacket and whispered. “Joaquin, just take him in for questioning. But you gotta release him-”

His eyes rounded. “What? We finally got him!”

“You have to release him. He has to be at the wedding.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered after a long pause and internal struggle. 

Just like that, Torres and his officers hoisted Ramirez up and dragged him from the room. For him to risk coming here, with no backup (according to security cameras and his word) and trusting his gut that you weren’t dirty - he must have been telling some truth. Steve followed Torres out, leaving you and Scott to report back to Sam and Bucky. 

Steve had only made it down the hallway when Ramirez stumbled into the wall. “Stop here, please.”

Steve was immediately defensive. “I’m not going to apologize for protecting my team.”

Ramirez didn’t seem to mind that he would be having trouble walking at the wedding. Granted he didn’t play a major role in the actual wedding, but he still needed to be present during the shipment transport. He inwardly thanked the fact the rehearsal dinner was only for close family. “Captain. Joaquin, is it? I know you heard everything I said. Mexico is your homeland. Your people.”

Torres allowed Ramirez to lean on the wall without his help. “I know my roots.”

“I wasn’t lying about the refugee camp. And I know you’ve done a lot in that area of work.”

“How do you-” Torres stammered, eyes flashing to Steve with worry. 

“Mijo, I have connections all over the world. And because I’m not an evil son of a bitch, I tend to keep them.”

Torres looked from Steve to Ramirez debating on whether to entertain this conversation any longer. But if training taught him anything, it was that if the suspect is talking, keep him talking. He motioned for his officers to leave them. 

“What are you getting at?”

“Ernesto knows about the camp. He knows the size of land. He knows my connections. He will kill me for it.” 

Steve mumbled, “Ernesto doesn’t seem like he’s much into the business of helping the less fortunate.”

Ramirez takes a grand leap here, Steve thinks, because the next words out of his mouth completely blindside him. It seemed like even saying them also left a bad taste in the criminal’s mouth. “You have to swear not to tell Y/N.”

Stepping forward and looking down at the injured man, Steve had to restrain himself from yelling his response. “Excuse me?”

“We can’t let her know right now.”

Torres held the same expression as Steve.

“You expect me to keep a secret from my partner? About her own father?”

“For the sake of your mission - yes, I know you’re planning on intercepting the shipment during the wedding - you cannot tell her until the day of the wedding.”

Steve hates that his reasoning is valid.

“Can’t tell her what?”

“The shipment isn’t a ‘what’. It’s ‘who’.”

“A hostage?” Torres almost yells because this changes the landscape, the game, the whole entire mission. 

“Multiple.”

“No, he’s not - he can’t be,” Torres is stuttering now, phone in his hand and about a dozen numbers he needs to call. 

Still, Ramirez seems like he’s telling the truth. Or at least, that’s what his body language tells Steve. “I would not lie about this.” 

Ramirez takes a deep breath before hanging his head in what looks like shame. “Ernesto is planning to kill me, marry or kill my daughter, and use the land to traffic humans.”

It immediately clicks with Steve. The reason why Ramirez was being edged out, the reason why your father wouldn’t tell you where the shipment was currently located, the reason business was going to boom in Europe. 

Ramirez continued, “Drugs are big business, Captain. But the sale of human lives…”

“The shipment - where is it?” Steve asked. 

“He wouldn’t tell me or White. That’s why we have to wait until the wedding. We can’t risk-”

Torres ended a phone call Steve hadn’t even known the kid had been on. He hooked Ramirez’s arm around his shoulders. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

Ramirez accepted the help, limping a few steps down the hallway before turning back to Steve. “Trust me when I say I know your partner, Captain. She can’t know right now. She’d kill him.”

But wasn’t that what you all wanted?

Flustered and quite overwhelmed with everything that had happened this morning and afternoon, Steve took a few minutes in the quiet hallway. 

There wasn’t much for him to do. Except set up security - because if there was one thing Steve was definitely going to do, it was see this whole mission through. 

The rest of the team back home would be briefed in the next few hours. And since Torres would be giving the briefing, everyone would know that this was a major secret kept from you. It would eat away at everyone, especially Steve. 

Digging into his pockets for his burner phone, he dialed the one number he thought you would be satisfied by.

“Maribel, hey. It’s Steve Rogers. I need a favor.”

     It wasn’t hard for Steve to conceal secrets. He was trained in code, intercepted Nazi messages during the war, and negotiated the safe return of hostages more times than he could count. 

Not telling you this would perhaps bite him in the ass in the long run, and there would most certainly be a dreaded argument in his future. But when he truly thought about it and what it could possibly mean if you seriously went out of your way to end this mission quicker than it was planned - the best possible choice was to keep this secret. 

Either he could tell you right now and have you do with it what you will, or he could tell you on the day of the wedding when all bets are off and the mission could be a success. 

That’s all the both of you have ever wanted, this he knows for sure. Getting rid of these people, getting rid of your father with help from the Avengers and their close connections, was worth more than a petty argument with the top crime boss who would never change his ways. It was best to stick it out, and tell you when the time was right. 

Because he will tell you. He promises himself that. 

After discussing the day and the rest of the plan over video chat, it was concluded that Sam and Bucky would be flying out a day earlier than planned. Having Ramirez simply waltz into the hotel when someone was having their regular smoke break was much too insane to ignore, and the more backup you guys had tomorrow and the next, the better. 

Scott took his leave after triple-checking if you were alright. He even offered to have a couple drinks with you down at the bar. You declined, excuse being that you would drink tomorrow at the dinner. 

Shrugging off your jacket and shirt was more painful than you hoped. It felt like someone had punched you with all their strength smack-dab in the middle of your fucking spine. Which, come to think of it, kind of happened? The pressure Seda applied was meant to subdue in the most awkward and painful of ways. He was trained to do so. Still, removing your bra should have been a simple task and instead it hurt like a bitch. 

The warm water from the shower relaxed the strained muscles as best as it could, and you only suffered minimally while applying your shampoo and conditioner. It was the hair drying and brushing of the hair that would prove difficult. 

Giving up halfway, you opened the bathroom door and peeked through, hoping Steve decided to stay in for the night. He was simply lounging on his bed, back pressed against the headboard as he watched Finding Nemo on Disney Junior. He was already dressed for bed.

“Steve?”

He glanced at you, worry etched on his face as he took in your embarrassed expression. “What is it?”

You opened the door fully, pajamas already on and a wet towel in your hand. You blushed madly. “Could you help me dry my hair? It hurts when I raise my arms.”

Steve was out of bed the second he heard the word ‘help’. “How bad is it? We can always fly in Dr. Cho to get you checked out-”

You giggled, passing him the hotel hair dryer. “I’ll just pop some advil every few hours and annoy you for a massage before tomorrow’s dinner. That sound good?”

He didn’t want to agree. If you were actually in severe pain, it wasn’t helpful to you or the mission. He cursed himself for not relieving you of Seda’s elbow sooner. 

“If you say so.”

You turned back to the mirror and gripped the counter, fingers tapping away as Steve grabbed the essentials. He used one of the hand towels to squeeze the excess water from your tips and separated your hair into sections. He blow dried your hair for a couple of minutes before deciding to alternate with the brush. 

The brush was shaped like a cylinder, the bristles much softer than that of other brushes he’d seen. 

“Just use it like any other brush. But once you get close to the tips, start twisting it. It’ll make my hair wavy.”

Steve nodded, doing exactly as you instructed. It was fifteen minutes of pure laughs and jokes as Steve styled your hair like some seventies movie star. He had always enjoyed the culture from that time and even if the show wasn’t actually set in the seventies, it was one of his guilty pleasures to watch That 70’s Show with Wanda. 

     Once finished, the two of you brushed your teeth and finished the rest of the movie in comfortable silence. He didn’t want to become distracted by something new so he shut off the television and turned to you, all snuggled up and scrolling through your phone. 

It was now or never. 

His voice was tinier than he hoped it would be, “Do you regret what we did?”

You were lying on your side facing Steve, phone plugged into the charger. You looked up, voice as equally tiny. “Oh, we’re talking about it now?”

Steve smiled, “You haven’t exactly brought it up either.”

“Well,” your chuckle came out as a huff. You put your phone back onto the bedside table.  “No, I don’t regret it.”

“You don’t?”

“Did you want me to?” you sounded surprised, but Steve knew you well enough to know you were only teasing. 

“No, I just-”

“Do you?”

“You gotta stop interrupting me,” Steve sighed. You raised your eyebrows. “I don’t regret it.”

You bit your lip and sat up straighter so your back was also leaning against the headboard. “So we both don’t regret it.”

“God, you annoy the hell out of me, you know that?” Steve admitted, kicking off his sheets and presenting what looked to be both a sad and honest grin. 

You laughed, kicking the sheets off as well and dangling your legs over the side. “Do I! You only remind me every damn day!”

Steve softened his voice once more, grin still present. “And yet, you never take a hint.”

You craved this playfulness and if you could continue like this for the rest of the night, for the rest of your lives, you would. But you remembered that there was a real conversation to be had. About the last seven years, the last two years, the last couple of days. Whether that conversation remained civil or evolved into an argument, it had to happen. 

“I guess we both act like everything is past us when it clearly isn’t. What should we do?”

Steve hesitated, “Do you want to fight?”

You shrugged, “I think we need to. I don’t plan on not speaking to you for months after if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

He huffed an involuntary laugh, body leaning forward slightly, “I hope not.”

You shared small smiles from your sides of the room, the air growing thicker but not uncomfortable enough to leave the room altogether. 

Steve decided to speak first. “I was stupid. And I made the wrong fucking choice. I was the biggest goddamn idiot on the planet to do that to a friend.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip, “Yeah. All of that’s true. But you still haven’t told me why you did it. You just gave me a half-assed apology because Sam forced you to, and you wonder why we never had our nightly girl talks again.”

“When I apologized, I hardly meant it.”

You nodded sarcastically, “Good start, Steve.”

“No, I-” he laughed, getting up to sit beside you. “I realized that I was truly, actually sorry… when you gave me your blood.”

You cringed, looking away from him and at the random monitors. “It sounds horribly cryptic when you say it like that.”

He smiled big, “It wasn’t even a mission. And if I recall correctly, you told me you would only help me again if we were on a mission.”

“Oh.”

He scooted closer to take your hand in his. “No, not ‘oh’. I was in and out of it but I can clearly make out when I’m getting a blood transfusion.”

“You weren’t gonna die-” you rolled your eyes, absentmindedly drawing circles on Steve’s knuckles. 

“Recovery would have been a hell of a lot harder.”

“I wasn’t the only volunteer-”

“You were the first.”

“So you’re interrupting me, now?”

Steve's smile never faltered. He leaned in and squinted playfully. “How does it feel?”

Pursing your lips, you surrendered. “Go on.”

“You won’t believe me when I say that I truly don’t know why I quit on you. I was just tired.”

“Tired of me?”

“God, no,” he responded quickly. “Tired of myself.”

“Steve…”

He stood up again. Running a hand through his hair, he took tiny steps back and forth. “We brought everyone back and they didn’t know they had been gone for years. I had to tell -” 

He swallowed hard, holding back tears. “I had to tell everyone Nat sacrificed her own soul for theirs.”

“Steve, we could have done it together. I was by your side,” you stood up as well, reaching out to grip his forearm. 

“And then Nick told me about your father. And how he was just picking up where he left off. Like Nat’s sacrifice meant nothing. Like it still means nothing.”

You sighed, a disappointed pout on your face. “So you took it out on me?”

His shoulders fell in defeat as he gently slapped his arms down over his hips. “I have no other excuse.” 

He didn’t try to sugarcoat it. It was the truth. No matter who asked the question, no matter how much he thought about it, the answer truly was that Steve had no excuse. You were the one thing connected to the evil of the past that he so desperately wanted to leave behind. “And then the world was just… we didn’t fix it.”

“How can you say that?”

He explained further, “People moved on. Five years was a long time and we just mucked it all up again.”

“Do you feel like Nat’s sacrifice wasn’t worth it?”

“She died for us. And the world was so chaotic the first few weeks. There were no breaks, there was nothing we could do but… watch.”

You could see where he was coming from. “Pepper has donated so much money. Created foundations. Bruce is locked in his lab all day trying to help slow down the sudden CO2 emissions. Bucky joined the Avengers for a fresh start. And Wanda-”

Steve pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Oh, god, Wanda.”

“Steve,” you stepped in front of him and tried pulling his hands away. He let you guide his arms back to his sides. “You can’t just blame yourself for something we all did.”

A tiny puff of air left his lips before he forced a smile. “Can’t I?”

“You tell this to your therapist, right?” you teased, happy to see him break slightly as he rolled his eyes. “You blame yourself, but I’m saying you don’t have to.”

He traced his index finger down from your shoulder to your wrist. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

And you believed him. The world could explode and erase you from existence and you would still believe him. 

“I feel like saying ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it.”

“I’ll work with whatever you can give me.”

And God, Steve thinks about how beautiful you look in the muted light of his bedside lamp, hair still a little frizzy from the hair dryer and the most radiant smile. So… soft. Again, the only sound besides your easy breathing and slight whistle was that lamp, the most annoying, fuzzy sound. Everything just felt so hazy, so tranquil, so… and yes, he’ll use the word again: soft. He could stay in that moment forever, where you were his and he was yours. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

Steve shakes his head, wonder drowning out all other senses as he focuses on you. He steps closer, enveloping you in a tight hug, mindful of your bruised back. Before he could overthink this moment, to ruin it with the side of himself he was trying to lose, he leaned in to capture your lips in a most chaste kiss. 

It had been a long time since Steve had kissed anyone. The kiss you shared yesterday was the catalyst, but this was a promise. His last kiss was before the snap while he was on the run and trying to avoid responsibility. But it wasn’t like someone before wanted to bask in the warmth of Steve Rogers - no - there was actual emotion to this kiss. 

An ache swelled in the middle of your chest, hammering surely and true. Your mouth falls open the same time Steve inches his hand up your neck, allowing for the kiss to deepen and last. 

His heart was breaking and repairing itself all at once. Breaking for the time he had lost, repairing for the time he had gained. He needed you, wanted you, lost himself in your touch. That same ache in your chest grew in his, pulsating and heavy. His fingers crept into your hair, curling themselves in the loose strands.

He swears you were born for this - to be willing and wanting and breathtakingly good at kissing. He’s so desperate to feel more of you, to taste more than he thinks he deserves, and he almost whines when your fingers also start to tangle in the hair near his neck. 

“Steve, are you sure we should be doing this?” Your voice prompted him to kiss deeper, apply more pressure in the fear that you would change your mind - change your mind about him. 

Almost immediately, red flags propped up and he had to force himself away. He didn’t know your dating history, he didn’t know if you ever emotionally recovered from your assault, he didn’t know. He cursed inwardly for last night, keeping a respectable distance as he checked. 

“I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. I promise you that.”

His voice was thick like honey, smooth and true in the honest words he was saying. 

You had been hesitant for a long while after what had happened to you. You couldn’t stand the simple touch of anyone besides Natasha. But she helped you through it, she shared her own experiences from the early Red Room days, and she had never officially recognized your recovery - she didn’t have to as long as you knew in your mind and body that you had. 

‘The dreadful experience will be a part of you, but it will not ever control you.’ Her words were like prayer. 

But Steve’s touch was natural and wanted. You never shied away from him, not ten years ago and certainly not now. He would never hurt you, you knew this, and he was double-checking to confirm it. 

“I only want you.”

His face resembled a literal question mark, like he didn’t quite accept your admission. Like it was hard to believe you wanted to be with him after everything he put you through. “Do you want me?”  

“Yes. Honest to God, I’m just going with what feels right.”

“That’s just a nicer way of saying you’re thinking with your dick.”

Steve couldn’t contain the burst of laughter that left his lips and hit yours. He pulled back and smiled, eyes crinkling at the sides. “I promise you it’s not that.”

You cupped his face and drew tiny circles on his flushed cheeks. “Hm, so you don’t know what you’re doin’? Thought you always had a plan.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “And apparently I’m always brave.”

“And righteous.”

“Downright patriotic.”

You grinned up at him, your toes sore from how long you had been bending them to hoist you up. “So, your plan?”

Steve kissed you once, twice, three times. “I don’t have one.”

“Pretty brave of you to admit that.”

Steve’s smile dropped slightly to showcase a more serious emotion. Still, his eyes held the most genuine quality. “I just want to be yours.”

You pressed up against him, tiptoes straining and fists clutching his shirt. The kiss was desperate now, as were the both of you. You gasped in between each long peck. “All this time? Why didn’t we say something?”

Embracing you once more, Steve led the two of you to the foot of his bed and fell forward. He landed on top of you, weight nowhere near actually crushing you. His legs were slightly parted, his knees touching the lateral sides of yours. Accepting that the both of you had played a role and delayed this portion of your relationship - Steve was a coward, he knew this, but hearing you say that you also realized your mistakes made him feel weirdly glad. Like he wasn’t alone in this.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” Steve breathed in your neck, kissing the depths of your collarbones and the points of your shoulders. 

“Never,” you whispered, gasping a moment later as he sucked particularly hard. You reached below and tugged the end of his shirt upward. He took it off quickly and before resuming his conquest on your neck, he tugged yours off as well. 

It functioned like this for another ten minutes, strong kisses and gasps and whines, before you were both down to your underwear and simply petting each other higher up on the bed. 

Steve pulled away abruptly, a blush spreading along his neck and down his chest as he thought about the best way to phrase his next sentence. “I didn’t really pack any condoms.”

You actually snorted, pushing away loose strands of your hair as you looked up from beneath him. “Woah, how far did you think you were going to get here, Rogers?”

He was used to the sarcasm, but oh my god did it do something feral to him while in bed with you.  He suddenly flipped you over, holding your hips above his as you settled yourself. It was like a case of whiplash, and before you knew it, you were placed on top of him to grind down and do all the work yourself. 

“Seriously?” His voice was light but raspy, both a sweet question and a warning. 

You grind your hips down on him, feeling the way his hard cock rubbed against your clothed core. Last night was different - you could feel the heat of him, the initial size not lost on you whatsoever. But here you were actually seeing the thick outline in all its glory, a small wet patch forming on his briefs near his twitching tip. “Years of sleeping in my bed only to want to fuck me now?”

He rolled his hips up, his palms beginning a slow and steady pace smoothing alongside your stomach. You relaxed right away, even though it felt like your insides were going to turn upside down, and you rested your hands over his to help guide him. 

“You gonna let me?”

 And fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest fucking thing in the whole world. His palms continued their tracks, reaching up to cup your breasts through your sports bra.  You got the message, giggling as you lifted your arms up. He lifted it up and over your head, throwing it to the other side of the room. Steve immediately attacked, lifting himself and readjusting your hips as well. He sucked your left nipple like a goddamn professional, swirling his tongue around the tight nub and using his teeth only briefly, delighted in the sharp hitch in your breath as he did so. He moved on to the other one, repeating the same process and grinding your hips down on him to match. He trailed quick pecks along your chest and up your neck, his hand finding its way back to your hair. Just below your occipital, so very sensitive, and he tugged your head back at an awkward angle. He kissed his way up, stretching your neck out, and you adjusted to the burn as quickly as the pleasure from it came. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, mind scrambled but still coherent enough to remember you were on birth control and clean. “I have the shot.”

This had Steve reeling, balance now off as he flipped you once more, hips coming down to meet yours as you thrust upward looking for some relief. The thought of spilling into you with no barrier had to be one of the kinks he didn’t know he had. 

“Safe word?”

You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder playfully, “Really, Steve?”

“Safe. Word.”

It wasn’t like you were about to tie each other down for your first time together, but you knew what was flying through his mind. He needed to know you felt safe during whatever the two of you did tonight, make sure you felt calm and at ease and relaxed. Steve would rather die than hurt you physically. 

“Widow.” You paused, smirking up at him as he accepted your decree. “Great, now I’m thinking about Natasha and that time she entered the compound in just that little, red bikini-”

Steve thumbed your bottom lip, then carefully shoved it into your mouth and placed it over your lax tongue to get you to stop talking. Your jaw instantly relaxed and you waited a few moments before locking eyes and enclosing his thumb in your lips. You sucked and swirled your tongue around it, pushing slightly so it rested on your puckered lips. Steve rolled his hips down again, his heat meeting yours in a mash of uncoordinated thrusts. You spread your legs to allow him more room. He had to remove his thumb in fear he would come right then and there.

He inched down lower, hands reaching down to cup your ass and lift you up slightly. He kissed all along your thighs, up to your hip bones, expertly avoiding the one area he knew you wanted him. His beard scratched and poked on your delicate skin, tickling you as he moved closer to your center. This would most certainly hurt in the morning, but nothing a little lotion and vaseline couldn’t fix. You mewled embarrassingly loud, a long drawn out sound that caused Steve to involuntarily rut against the mattress. It had been so long since he had been with someone. But this someone was you. He honestly didn’t know if he could hold out for as long as he wanted. He slowly peeled off your underwear. 

“Where do you want me?”

You lifted your head from the pillow to look down at him, eyebrows furrowed and cheeks incredibly red. “Games, Rogers?”

Steve growled and hoisted your open legs on his shoulders, pulling you closer so that you could feel his stuttering breath. “I’m the one playing?”

His question didn’t quite land considering his sudden manhandling had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and momentarily blinding you. After such a harsh day, the roughness of this particular situation shouldn’t have been so well received by your body. But it was consensual, it was with someone you trusted, and you were also in control. Just knowing that made you crave it. 

“If you don’t get your mouth on me-” you started, trying desperately to move your hips closer to his mouth. And god, did he want to dip lower and suck your glistening heat under his waiting mouth. You were positively dripping, all shiny and welcoming. He hadn’t ordered dessert with dinner, and hey, this would do nicely. 

But your quick quips ignited the Steve that would pick you last during training line-ups. He would leave you for the end, without a team, foot tapping rapidly on the floor as you glared at him with an amused smile. Then he would act like you were the last choice he just had to pick, which you were, and you’d lose the first match on purpose to ruin his scoreboard. It always worked like this, he knew, but did he ever pick you first the next time? No, your bothered attitude excited him too much.

Now, with an impatient attitude bolstering underneath his body, he found himself raising his hand a few inches up in the air. “Stop sassin’!”

The slap echoed after it connected against your bottom, the angle at which it impacted clumsy and inelegant. He smacked the side, surprised by the sharp scream you exhaled. As quickly as he acted, he pulled back. “Oh my god, I should have asked first. I’m so sorry.”

You opened your eyes, the soft light illuminating the room still too bright. You shook away the white spots from your vision. You seriously didn’t know if that was an orgasm or simply a tidal wave of intense pleasure. Still, you were sort of out of it as Steve’s voice tried to draw you back in. 

You looked down at him, “Do that again.”

Steve blinked quickly, unknowing if he truly registered your words correctly. “Are you sure?”

“I didn’t think I’d enjoy that. But oh my god, do that again.”

Steve hesitated and to ease into it better, he decided to not keep you waiting any longer and attached his eager lips to your gleaming ones down below. You fluttered your eyes shut, surprised by how quickly he found your sweetest spot, and you rutted against him harder as the minutes flew by. He swirled his tongue in tight O’s and figure eights, teeth barely scratching but when they did, sent you flying upwards. But he just gripped onto your thighs and readjusted you on his shoulders, fingers digging in almost painfully. His beard burned the inside of your thighs, rubbing deliciously and uncomfortably. He shifted his soft and wriggling tongue to that special spot on the inside of your left lip, his fierce grip not allowing you to shift away as he ate. The hands that were clutching the bedsheets now flew onto his scalp, gripping his hair tightly and you pushed him in deeper. Steve groaned from the pleasant sting, cock straining in his briefs as he rutted into the air. 

The pressure was too much and you wanted him off of you and on you at the same time. Moaning so loud it was deafening, you didn’t notice he lost his grip on one of your legs to connect his palm back to the side of your ass. 

“God!” you yelled blissfully, one hand leaving his head to slam back into the headboard. He repeated the action, his own moans vibrating on you and sending you to a different plane of existence. Each slap grew in strength and he alternated sides, his mouth never leaving your sweet center.

He was sweating now, dying to touch himself and get you off at the same time. He circled his hips mid-air, the friction against his briefs not enough and all too much. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe you like that,” he whined. 

You chuckled through desperate moans, “Are you judging me right now?”

“I’m judging how fucking wrecked it makes me,” he admitted, mouth now working overtime and ready to lead you off the edge. He worked faster, tongue now assaulting your clit eagerly. Steve can feel both his pulse and your pulse gaining momentum, thrumming away inside his skull and vibrating deliciously as he brought you closer. He suspects you’ve got a few good seconds before you’re coming on his mouth. 

“Steve… Steve!” you begged, hips bucking awkwardly against him. He wrapped both arms around your thighs again and headed for the finish line, humming against you and basking in the glory of your end. You broke around him, the scream you let out causing the heat in his stomach to tighten and spread to his own thighs. You wiggled fiercely, attempting to get away from him as he continued to lick you. He made sure to leave some of your release behind, even if his lips and chin told another story. 

He set your legs back down on the bed with him still in the middle. He could still see how shiny you were in between. Selfishly, Steve maneuvered to get himself out of his briefs and settle back in the middle. There, he took pleasure in simply viewing himself, strained and practically purple with desire, at level with your wet mound. 

“You’ve been practicing, huh?” He snapped from his dirty thoughts and looked back at your blissed out face. You also had a soft luster on your skin.

Steve chuckled, hands gripping the sides of your hips to massage them. “Not recently. But the USO girls were just as tuned up as I was at the time.”

You grinned wide, “Now that’s something I didn’t know about you. You fuck ‘em?”

Steve reached down to grip the base of his cock, the pressure building and he seriously didn’t want to blow his load before you both took the next step. He willed himself to calm down before he responded. “Yeah, but please don’t go tellin’ everyone.”

“Who knew you were such a slut?” you teased, voice dripping with such intensity that Steve shut his eyes to drown in it. You wrapped your leg around his waist and tipped him over, coming back to rest your hips atop his. Hands sprawled along the expanse of his chest and unclothed heat now rubbing along his bare cock. Steve tipped his head back, a deep groan rising from the middle of his chest as your drenched lips parted to swallow the thickness of his cock. You rocked back and forth, your sensitive clit nudging his tip every so often. You had already come once, and you reveled in the simple fact that this must be torture for Steve. “Tell me, Steve. How do you want me?”

Steve short-circuited. 

“Doll, I want you in every imaginable way,” he whined, bucking his hips. He grinned when his short movement caused you to whimper. “I want you on top of me, doing nothing, as I fuck up into you.”

You let out a ragged gasp, hips moving faster. You were practically dripping along his cock. Steve continued, “I want you underneath me as I fold you in half and your ankles are dangling in the air. I want you on your stomach as I use your hips how I want.”

Your eyes were wide, the blush on your cheeks extending all the way down to your naked chest. This was so surreal. Just last week you switched his special sugar for salt and watched him literally sob and almost throw up as he sipped his morning tea. 

“But I also want you to hold me down and fuck me however you see fit. I want you to steal my control, I don’t want it. I just need you.”

His voice was wrecked, choked whimpers caught in between his syllables and eyelids fluttering slowly. You shot down to kiss him hard, hands tangling in his hair and hips grinding long and slow. You were rewarded with a sticky bead of pre-come from his sensitive slit. You were already milking him and he hadn’t even entered you yet. 

“Y/N, are you sure?”

You detached your lips, forehead now resting on his and your breaths intermingled. “I’m sure.”

He didn’t know what willed him to flip you over so fast, whether it was the serum or his desperate need to sink into your tight warmth, but he succeeded. His gaze was intense, like he was trying to find any hesitation he so didn’t want to find. But there was none. Your eyes were bright and happy, and he had only seen this look a few times. He felt incredibly lucky to experience it now. 

“I’m sorry I lost you,” he spoke without thinking. Because he truly was sorry, he was so fucking sorry. But to have you here, so vulnerable and allowing him to see you so defenseless, he felt like he didn’t deserve it without telling you once again that he was sorry. 

You gave him a toothy smile, cheeks rising and causing the skin by your eyes to crinkle. You guided his head down to plant his lips on yours again. It was innocent enough for the circumstances, just a gentle press with slow movements. 

You pushed him back to meet his eyes. “I probably should have held on tighter.”

He knows the color of your eyes, but never in this lighting. He knows the sweat of your body, but not when it mixes with his. He knows your talkative mouth, but never pink and swollen in a pleasant pout. He knows your voice, but never when it calls out his name while you writhe underneath him. He knows you now, all of you, open and vulnerable for him.

Steve presses one more deep kiss on your lips before positioning himself better in between your legs. He lifts you up slightly, bending your knees and spreading your legs so your feet are planted on the mattress. Then he slowly guides himself into your tight heat. 

It’s incredibly overwhelming for both parties. He hadn’t exactly prepared you with his fingers and his size is a little much. He was thicker than anything you were used to, and the sting left you wanting him to move already and pause to settle for maybe an hour. It’s like he read your mind because he moved even slower as he pushed deeper, head dropping to the curve of your neck, gasping against your skin. You tried to encourage him, rolling your hips and hooking one leg around him. The sting still overpowered any sense of pleasure, so you rolled your hips against his to try and better adjust for yourself. 

He grasped onto the side of your hip tightly, “Doll, if you don’t stop doing that I’m not gonna last.” 

You blushed, slightly embarrassed, “I was just trying to get comfortable quicker.”

Steve groaned and planted a few sweet kisses to your heated neck. “Do you want to stop? I can work you out one more time before we do this?”

You turned your head slightly to kiss across his cheek. “I want you now. I just need to adjust first.”

Steve nodded quickly, pressing in more and pausing to let you roll your hips. He bit his lip harshly, a cracked gasp escaping every so often as you worked yourself on him. Once he was fully seated inside of you, he closed his eyes and just held you. 

He tried not to think of anything else other than you. How you felt, how you smelled, how you sounded. Who you were, who you became, who you will be. He was swallowed in you and he didn’t ever want to leave that abyss. 

A rush of heat settled inside your stomach, maddening and burning with such intensity it was practically speaking to you. “Steve, you can move. I’m ready, please move.”

He’s as deep as he can go and you’re both breathing hard and he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. As far as declarations of love go, this was perhaps the most graceless, but he knew it was sincere and real. Steve felt a moment of unrelenting panic, like he had just accidentally verbally admitted it. But he hadn’t, and selfishly enough, he would keep it to himself for as long as he could until he himself could come to terms with it. 

There are definitely going to be marks on your skin once you’re done here, but you couldn’t care less - not when Steve just let go of his worries and started to thrust in and out of you, deep and slow. He meets you with a long kiss, hips picking up their pace as you match his rhythm. His hands grip your hips tighter, every thrust working deep into you and prying desperate moans for him to savor. 

The drag as he pulls out leaves you lightheaded. And as he pushes back in, it leaves you with a burst of satisfaction at the base of your spine. You can’t even form words as you’re reduced to a stuttering series of ‘uh-uh-uhs’, fully in the moment and fucked stupid. All you could do is push your hips forward and up to meet him halfway, match your moans to his, clench around him to draw out that choked sob from his throat that he tries and fails to contain. You tried your best to ignore the slight pain in the middle of your back, and the sting and stretch down below made sure of it. 

He was stammering around every syllable of your name. Breathy moans followed. 

“Steve, faster, please baby.” Steve stuttered in his movements, eyes squeezed shut as he registered your request. He followed through, however, lifting your hip in one hand and turning you at an angle that made him hit deeper and in a special spot you didn’t know you had. No one had reached it, not even when you played with yourself, and your squeal of delight alerted Steve of his accomplishment. Each pleasurable noise encouraged Steve to maintain whatever rhythm he had going. So he hit it over and over again, working at it hungrily, ignoring his shaking arms and praying the serum could be useful for more than just bullets and super speed. 

“You feel so fucking perfect. So fucking great,” he panted, watching your face as it contorted into a silent scream. You were coming again, hands braced on his biceps as your voice failed to warn him. You clenched and unclenched around him, head thrown far back into the pillow as your chest ripped with the sound it was harbouring. 

You had never come from penetration alone and you bet the fact it was Steve bringing you to climax was definitely a main factor, but it was so damn intense that your legs gave out and simply flopped onto the mattress. Steve stopped hammering into you for a minute, breathing heavily as he allowed you a cooldown. 

“I didn’t feel that coming, I’m sorry,” you laughed, arm coming up to cover your eyes. 

Steve chuckled and removed your arm, “You good?”

You were still seeing white spots and your head was slightly cloudy, but the knowledge that Steve hadn’t yet come fueled you. And the possibility of him coming inside you kickstarted another wave of desire in each of your vertebrae. 

“Yeah, I just have one favor,” you stated honestly, wiggling uncomfortably. “Could you flip me over? In this position, you’re really pushing down on my bruise.”

He moaned shamefully from the greedy thought of having you on your stomach. The angel on one shoulder chastised him, telling him to flip you over for the sake of your comfort. But that little devil, greedy and seeking his finish, told him to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress. He compromised. 

He flipped you over and helped you place a pillow just below your hips. He watched as you threw your hair to one side and bent your arms at the elbows. Hands now placed below your head and hips wiggling in front of him, Steve parted your legs and sunk into you again. 

“Yes, fuck, yes…” you mewled, hips raising ever so slightly to drag him in deeper. Steve watched the area where you were connected, wonder clouding his mind as he dipped deeper, deeper, until his hips connected with your bottom. He wasn’t used to this position and he never really thought that he would enjoy it so much. It was like he reached new depths, your pleasure could only come from the way he rolled his hips - yeah, he needed to put you in every position his mind could fathom. 

His jaw went slack as he pulled out and pushed back in, hair sticking to his own forehead and mouth feeling dry and watery at the same time. 

He fucked you in earnest, hoping he could draw out one more orgasm from you. You were putty beneath him, hair now mangled and sticking with the sweat on your neck and back. You were a repetition of ‘yes, yes, yes’ and ‘fuck please, fuck, please!’, sloppy in all senses. He didn’t slow down because one: he was chasing his finish, and two: you didn’t tell him to. 

You were a whimpering mess, a tiny pool of drool forming beneath your mouth and on the sheets. It wasn’t like you didn’t try to swallow it - you physically couldn’t. 

Steve was growing erratic now as his end neared. He fell over you, none of his weight actually on you as he wrapped one arm under your stomach and the other hand sneaking its way to your clit. His cheek was planted on your back and in that moment, he remembered your growing bruise. So he lifted his face back up and planted several wet kisses over, inbetween, and alongside your shoulder blades. The soft gesture had you tearing up from both adoration and heat. You fisted the sheets underneath you and met Steve’s ruts as best as you could. 

He rubbed quick circles over your clit, relishing in the feeling of your velvet walls pulsating around him. “Come for me, doll.”

You didn’t know if he could hear himself begging, but he repeated that sentence several more times before you spoke. It was like you chose for him. “Come inside me, Steve. Please, please, please!”

That strung-out whine of yours did it. Steve pressed his mouth against your skin with a breathless groan as he spilled into you in long spurts. Simply feeling him coat your walls with what sounded like a painful cry had you coming for the third time tonight. You didn’t have enough energy to vocalize it so just pushed your head into the pillow and prayed you could still walk tomorrow. 

Steve’s heartbeat is in his ears as he comes down from his high. He enjoys it for a few more seconds before finally snapping back to reality, lifting himself from you and slowly pulling out. He groaned deeply as he watched his spent drip from you and onto the pillow hoisting you up. He wrapped a hand around himself to milk whatever else he had as he watched. 

You two lay beside each other for several minutes, chests heaving and blood settling to its normal speed again. 

You glanced to your left and giggled as you witnessed Steve’s blissed out state, tip of his nose still pink, eyelashes creating such a lovely shadow on his cheeks, cock giving a few spent stutters as the rush of blood found another body part to supply. 

He turned to you as well, a lazy smile greeting you. “We’re good at that.”

This time you laughed loudly, throwing yourself over his chest and hugging him close. He laughed with you and kissed the top of your head as he enjoyed the feeling.

After another couple minutes, you both decided it was time to clean up. He resisted the urge to laugh when you stood up, legs wobbly and chest still trying to catch full breaths. You looked drunk, eyes glossy and hair disorderly. The look suited you, really. 

You thought the same about him. 

Steve swore he was about to crumble when you both returned from the bathroom and you headed for your own bed. It was a betrayal for only a millisecond before you commented on how you were not sleeping in soiled sheets and that he could ‘obviously’ join you in your bed tonight. You kept talking, telling him how you weren’t necessarily a cuddler but you would sacrifice one night for him. But ‘do not be alarmed when you find me on the other side of the bed in the morning!’, and the good ache in his chest swelled once again. 

     Once, in 1935, when Steve was seventeen and too weak to breathe in a lick of clean air, the pneumonia eating away at his lungs and taunting his mother, who was rotating between cold and hot rags; that 1935 sickness was one of the few times he was hopeless. Sure, he pulled through because he’s Steve Rogers. But not being able to breathe really scares a person, and so he didn’t feel hopeless - he was hopeless. His own body betrayed him and made his mother, who nursed him while Bucky worked extra shifts at the dock to help her with groceries, cry like a blubbering newborn - well, Steve was forced to put his faith in God. It’s what his mother would have wanted him to do.

And when he couldn’t reach far enough to grasp Bucky’s trembling hand, when he watched him fall into that icy ravine to his supposed death in 1944, he was hopeless. Completely obliterated from the bottom of his heart, up. 

In 2018, when he lost the ultimate battle and saw half the world disintegrate, and the itchiness spread itself far and wide to all the crevices in his crumbling soul, pouring into crack after crack after crack - there was no need to even label himself hopeless anymore. He hadn’t had hope in anything after he caused the destruction of one of his only true 21st century friendships; not since he dropped that shield at the feet of one friend while he walked away with another. There was no hopelessness - simply less. 

But now, with you in his arms and treading lightly along his second chance, his heart was bursting with the possibility of relearning the definition of hope, craving to feel human again - to feel like Steve Rogers again. Sure, he may still believe his glass is half empty instead of half full, and he was pushing the ideals of that shield far too much down the line, but Steve swore the awe in your eyes was the hope he had lost. 

He couldn’t believe you were the host of it all along. 

So he settled in his new home, in his new hope, praying God would let him have it, and closed his eyes. This Steve, who was asleep for over seventy years and was robbed of the life he was supposed to live. This Steve, who wished he could erase all the lost time filled with stupid tantrums and half-assed apologies and pretend it never happened. No lies about ‘maybe it helped you two grow!’ He had poisoned his happiness years ago and god forbid he would let himself do it again. 

This Steve, who only wanted to protect and be protected. Steve, with all his heart, his mind, and his soul, burning brilliant.

~

A/N: man i know this is long but i literally write the chapters in sections and i don’t realize until I paste them together omgggg xxMoni

Taglist: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​ 

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm. 

Masterlist here 

AO3 Link here

‘Y'know, when I asked you to manage 'Tsumu, I never imagined you'd manage him like this.’  Osamu states bluntly, eyebrow raised as Atsumu spends yet another evening seated right by her spot at the till, lobbing playful insults and jokes at her until she snaps at him to ‘shut up for the love of all that is holy and stop disturbing the other customers’ . 

‘Like what?!’ she splutters unconvincingly, her cheeks turning red. 

Osamu gives her a knowing look before he turns away to welcome in another batch of customers. 

Osamu closes the shop on the anniversary of its opening, and throws a small party at a rooftop bar that a friend of his owns. She’s told that her attendance is absolutely mandatory, so even though she has class early next morning, she finds herself with a drink in her hand, staring down at the crowds of downtown Osaka. If she squints, she can see a child pulling her mother to a stop, pointing overhead at the rainbow of neon street lights in awe. 

‘A hundred yen for your thoughts?’ She doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s Atsumu, his lazy drawl far more pronounced than Osamu’s. 

The child in the street below remains rooted to the spot, causing a buildup in the crowd despite her mother’s attempts to pull her away. It makes her think of the first time her parents brought her to visit the city more than a decade ago, and how overwhelmed she felt, surrounded by people and buildings tall enough to touch the sky, so different from her hometown of rolling hills and bamboo groves. 

‘Did you feel sad when you left home?’ she replies with a question of her own. 

‘Nah - was excited, really. Always dreamed of playin’ volleyball in the big leagues, so stayin’ home wasn’t gonna cut it for me, y'know?’ 

‘Heartless. Probably made your mother cry’, she accuses him, and he acknowledges it with a careless laugh. 

‘What about you? Thinkin’ about home?’ he asks, coming to stand beside her, eyes trained on the thin line separating building and sky. 

‘Leaving was necessary’, she responds simply. 

Especially with two older brothers blessed with both brain and brawn, far better suited to inherit her father’s steel forge. But while her father might spend most of the day teaching her brothers how to craft the sharpest knives, his evenings were spent at the kitchen table with her perched on his lap, learning to balance numbers in his account books. And with her schoolteacher mother drilling into her head the importance of an education, moving down to Osaka for an accountancy degree seemed less like a choice and more like an inevitable conclusion. 

He frowns at her silence. ‘Did you get kidnapped by aliens or somethin’? Usually you’d be snappin’ at me, or scolding me, or shouting at me for being a dick – completely undeserved, by the way’.

‘I just seem quiet because you talk too much. Has anyone ever told you that?’ she retorts. But there is no fire in her words, and he only chortles in response. 

They watch in silence as the crowd below them slowly starts to thin out as the dusk fades into night. The cold night air bites through her thin sweater into her skin, and she shivers, unconsciously shifting closer towards Atsumu’s warmth. He shoots her a look that’s halfway between a smile and a smirk as he slides his jacket over her shoulders, and she pretends the flush on her cheeks is from the alcohol in her drink. 

But she can’t help but lean into him, letting herself drown in the heat of his hand on her hip and the storm in his eyes. 

Osamu’s eyes cloud in disapproval when he finds out she and Atsumu are dating. ‘He’d better not run off my accountant, that’s all I can say’. 

‘Osamu! Atsumu’s your twin!’ she scolds, arm deep in a vat of rice water. 

‘Exactly’, he responds with a snort. ‘I’m not sure you realise how much of a dick ‘Tsumu can be, ‘specially when all he’s hungry for is chasing a win. I hope you’re ready to handle that.’ 

‘You’re just worried because you’re too cheap to hire a qualified accountant to do your books’ she grouses and he looks like he’s about to snark back, but the chatter of their first customers of the day entering the shop signals the end of their conversation. 

Dating Atsumu isn’t as bad as Osamu makes it out to be. She’s careful not to ask too much of him when he’s busy with training and competitions, and in any case her schedule is full enough with school and her job, but they make the effort of video calling each other at least twice a week if he’s travelling, and if he’s in town, they spend Friday nights with multiple boxes of pizza (Atsumu’s appetite is enormous) , bickering over what movie to watch next. 

He insists she watch as many games of his as possible, and he spends so much time crowing about his plays that she should be annoyed, but she finds herself charmed by the childlike enthusiasm in his voice. ‘That’s probably why you’re the only one that can stand him’, Osamu comments but she pays him no mind. He’s in the audience cheering for her when she graduates, and takes her out for a fancy meal when she lands her first job ( no, Osamu, working at Onigiri Miya doesn’t count, no matter what you say). 

Their paths might not always converge but when they do, there’s the quiet contentment of finding shelter in each other, and she quickly becomes addicted to the warmth of that feeling in her heart. 

‘Stop being a baby’, she scolds, as she peels back the sports tape on Atsumu’s back with deliberate care. ‘It’s your fault for going for practice with a strained shoulder and not listening to your physiotherapist!’

‘Don’t nag darlin’, I had to – it was Hinata-kun’s first practice with us!’ He’s practically buzzing in his seat with glee, and she can’t help the soft smile that grows on her face. 

‘There - all done’, she says, and she can’t help but run her hand to rest in the dip of his spine.  

‘What would I do without you?’ he asks, shooting her a roguish smile that distracts her long enough that he’s able to pull her into his lap. 

‘Idiot’, she huffs fondly, and he chuckles in reply, the sound warming her heart. ‘Hey ‘Tsumu?’ she says again, pushing his wandering hands away. 

‘You called, doll?’ he quirks an eyebrow at her, hands heavy against her hips. 

‘I love you’, she whispers against the broad expanse of his chest. 

‘I know’, he says with light laughter in his voice, and swallows her outraged cry ‘arsehole!’  by sliding his mouth over hers until her breath starts to stutter and she closes her eyes. 

There is a storm raging outside, but she pays it no mind. 

Her stomach churns when she sees the faint line on the test she bought in a panic during her lunch break, and she now wonders whether the nausea she’s been feeling the past week was not a bug she thought she caught, but actually morning sickness after all. That thought makes her feel like puking her guts out again and she does - unceremoniously every morning for weeks after that. 

Atsumu’s in the middle of a series of matches away from home, and she knows he’s warned her again and again not to distract him especially when the championship is within his team’s reach, but the rising swell of panic in her throat outwrestles any rational thought she has left in her head, so she finds herself blurting it out to him the minute they log on for their twice weekly call. 

‘You’re pregnant?’ he echoes blankly, rubbing a disbelieving hand over his face. ‘How?’ 

‘D’you remember the gala night for the opening of the season when I was on antibiotics for an ear infection?’ He nods dumbly, and she twists her fingers in her lap. ‘Yeah… Well I figure it must have happened then.’ 

The connection of their call crackles, and she strains her ears for his response. It doesn’t come. 

‘Tsumu?’ 

‘Right.’ he finally says. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’

‘I...don’t know,’ she confesses. 

They’re both barely on the cusp of adulthood, and the thought of bringing a new life into the world that she’d be wholly responsible floods her with a tidal wave of fear and dread and anxiety that does not ebb away. She’s not sure her boss will take too kindly to finding out she’s pregnant, much less so out of wedlock, especially since she’s barely a year into her job, and she doesn’t even want to think about the dishonour and shame she’ll bring to her family - though a part of her is willing to brave her father’s disapproval and her mother’s tears just to feel their arms around her again. 

But her hands are drawn to the slight swell of her belly, and perhaps it’s sentiment clouding her mind, she’s not sure she has it within her to stamp out the flicker of life budding within her after nights filled with dreams of a child with her smile and Atsumu’s eyes. 

‘Look - I’ve got to go. We’ll talk when I get home, ok?’ he mutters, logging off before she can say goodbye. 

But he doesn’t - not even when his team wins the championship and she finds out from the team’s social media that he’s returned back to Osaka. 

Her calls go unanswered, her texts remain unread, and with desperation rising in her chest she turns to Osamu - even though she initially swore to herself she wasn’t going to drag him into the messes that Atsumu tends to make. But the laws in Japan require the consent of the father if she wants to get rid of the problem (though it feels wrong to term it like that), and he’s the closest male friend she trusts enough to step up to the plate. 

‘Fuckin’ pig’ he snarls, slamming his fist down on the counter so hard it makes her jump back in shock at seeing the normally mild-mannered Osamu lose his temper and react with such obvious rage. But he calms down quickly to close his shop early and walk her home. 

‘It’ll be fine’, he promises her. ‘You’ll see’. 

She’s not sure she trusts Osamu’s definition of fine, not when Atsumu turns up on her doorstep that same night with a smear of blood under his nose and a purple bruise over his right eye. She stares at him, her arms folded across her chest.

‘What do you have to say for yourself, Miya?’, she says, and he winces at her use of his surname, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.  

‘I freaked out ok? Finding out that you got pregnant - that I’m going to be a  dad  made me panic ‘cos I’m totally not ready for that  shit  - even though Osamu’s right, I’m a piece of crap and you’re probably going through so much worse and I should do right by you -.’

‘Atsumu, what are you even saying?!’ She interrupts, exasperated. 

‘I’m asking you to jump off a cliff with me’, he says, lifting his chin to return her stare.

‘Wha-’ 

‘Marry me.’ He cuts in softly, bringing his hand to cup her face, brushing his thumb across the corner of her lip. ‘It’s gonna be one hell of a ride, but you and I - we’ll get through this together’. 

She’s struck dumb, suddenly reminded of how being with Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. While there’s the thrill of being near enough to witness the sky collapsing into a torrent of rain and hear the wind descend into howls of rage, there’s also the lingering fear that the next flash of lightning might mean pain, or even death. 

But Atsumu’s eyes are clear pools of light, and she can only see  hope  reflected within it. She wonders if it mirrors the hope in her heart too. 

So she says yes, and catches his smile in her hands. 

They hold a small wedding at the Miya family shrine with their respective families as quickly as they can before the swell of her belly is unable to be hidden by the folds of her shiro-muku, the traditional white of her kimono a stark contrast against the black and gold of Atsumu’s montsuki. Her face is hidden under the weight of her headdress and her hands tremble as she clasps her kaiken, a blade her father forged himself, and her mother’s bamboo fan to her belt. She does not breathe until she and Atsumu take their third sip of sake from the nuptial cup. 

Osamu is obviously appointed as the best man, and after the ceremony is over, he slaps Atsumu on the back before pressing a careful kiss to her cheek. ‘You’ve downgraded from being my accountant to my sister’, he tells her, and she has to hide her teary laugh behind her hands. But her heart is full and she throws her arms around his neck until Atsumu clears his throat playfully and she pulls away to greet her family. 

‘Take care of her’, her father says, the threat in his and her brothers’ eyes amplified by their wedding gift to her of their sharpest knives. Atsumu meets their gaze evenly and laughs, unfazed. 

‘I will’, he says, and he kisses her with his promise still on his lips. 

[slythergirlimagines]

Life Changing Adventures with Zuko

Summary: Zuko and the Reader get into some trouble when they meet a witch who switches their bodies. The Gaang tries to help them switch back. Pretty much fluff, not much angst! (GIF is not mine, but I absolutely love it!) Words: 5,659   Request: Yes Masterlist

****Also, would you guys be interested in me making a masterlist of all my fics? Let me know!

                    Life Changing Adventures with Zuko

  You should have never come here. That’s what you’re thinking as you and Zuko climb up the incredibly tall, dangerous mountain to see what’s in the mysterious cave.

  “I don’t like this.” You say, crossing your arms in an effort to preserve some sort of body heat. Of course, Zuko didn’t have to worry about the cold and he seemed no more bothered with this excursion than he would be anything else.

  Zuko glances back at you, black fringe hanging in his amber eyes.

  “Just calm down, we’re nearly there.” He says, and continues his climb up the winding, steep path.

    You roll your eyes, but hurry to match his pace. You definitely don’t want to fall behind in this place, but Zuko’s long legs are growing increasingly hard to keep up with.

  You can feel it in the air that something’s not quite right. There’s an undercurrent of something undefinable. Like magic. It hums all around you, and gives you goosebumps.

   Up ahead, the wind whips through Zuko’s raven hair. It also blows his tunic tight against his body, and you can just make out the contours of his muscles.

  Mentally, you slap yourself. Why do you care about Zuko’s muscles? He had chased you and your friends for months, and he had been responsible for a myriad of bad things that had happened to you. You had forgiven him, but you guys fought all the time. Your bickering often drove your friends crazy, and had been nonstop since he arrived. 

   “Life changing adventures with Zuko.” Toph had once called the personal journeys your friends had taken with him. You and Toph were the only people who hadn’t had one, and you certainly hoped today wasn’t your day.

   Zuko stops and cocks his head, listening. You slowly approach him, taking care to keep silent. If Zuko was concerned then you should definitely be concerned as well. Your eyes dart around, but you don’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary.

  The sun is starting to set, and it’s making this damn mountain even colder than before. The trees cast long shadows over the path, and it all feels foreboding. Subconsciously, you gravitate closer to Zuko.

  “Remind me what we’re doing here, again?” You ask. You’re trying your hardest not to show any fear, but everything in your body is telling you to leave.

   Zuko squints and stares in the direction of the cave.

   “Aang asked us to check it out.” He says in his low rasp. This however is partially untrue.

  Aang had asked you to go check it out, not Zuko. Aang claimed that something felt wrong up here, but he was currently trying to the closest village from being occupied by Fire Nation troops and didn’t have time to check. You weren’t a bender, but you were a capable warrior, and Aang trusted your abilities.

   Zuko, on the other hand, had volunteered the moment you agreed to go. He claimed that it was because he couldn’t have Fire Nation soldiers recognize him, but his hastiness made you suspicious. He was always doing that, hovering around you during missions and tasks. It got on your nerves how little he trusted in your ability to defend yourself.

   “I don’t think we should be here.” You reiterate. “It just feels....”

   “I know. I feel it too.” Zuko says. He turns to you and offers a large hand. Sighing, you take it and allow him to lead you closer to the cave.

   Zuko stops behind a tall tree, and peeks his head around to observe. The tree is hardly wide enough to conceal his broad shoulders, but at least you are in the shadows. You notice that you are still holding his hand, and drop it before he can read too much into it.

   In an effort to look busy, you squint into the dark, trying to make out any sort of object that could be important. Without Aang here it is virtually impossible to know what you need to find.

   Zuko seems to be following the same train of thought as you, and scans the area with his eyes. The light is almost dark enough to conceal his scar. Your fingers twitch with some foreign urge to trace over it. You ball your hands into fists. Maybe you just want to punch him in the face.

  “I don’t see anything.” Zuko mumbles, still watchful.

   “Me neither. I say we go back to camp and tell Aang that there’s nothing up here.” The wind has picked up since you got here, and you’re teeth are chattering.

   Zuko notices your shivering for the first time, and rolls his eyes. He flexes his fingers, and you can tell what he’s about to do from the look on his face. You can’t have him firebend here.

   “Don’t.” You say harsher than necessary.

  “You can’t give that away, especially if someone’s here.” You hastily add. You don’t know why you’re suddenly so concerned about sparing his feelings.

    “Yeah...you’re right.” Zuko says, but there’s a strange look in his eyes that you don’t quite understand.

    Suddenly, the cave bursts into life and a bright light pours through it. The hairs on your arms prickle as the hum around you intensifies. You can practically taste whatever it is in the air.

   “We need to get closer, see what’s going on.” Zuko says, “Maybe this is what Aang meant.”

   You swallow loudly, but nod your consent. Hesitantly, you trail behind him, nearing the cave. The light illuminates the wideness of its mouth, and its seemingly never ending depth. Anything could be in there, but what could be of any importance to you?

   However bad you think the idea is, you know you have to go inside. Something is waiting for you in this cave, and you have to face it.

   You look to Zuko to see if he’s come to a similar conclusion, and you find the same grim expression on his face. Locking eyes, you nod at each other, and start the trek inside.

   Zuko lights his fists on fire, and the flames dance around his knuckles in beautiful patterns. Even though you wish he wouldn’t bend, it’s Zuko’s flames that you focus on to keep yourself from becoming panicked. For the first time, you’re truly glad he’s there with you.

   So focused are you on Zuko’s flame, that you don’t notice that someone is sneaking up on you. You hear the sound of their footsteps too late, and then everything goes dark.

                                ————————————————

  You wake up to a pounding in your head. Groaning, you move to lift a hand to your injury, but find that they are bound to something. That something just so happens to be a warm, angry firebender.

  “Y/n?” He asks, and you can’t help but notice that his usually crabby voice is laced with concern.

   “Ugh.” You groan in response. The back of your head is exploding with pain.

   “Are you alright?” He questions lowly.

   “Head hurts.” You mumble.

    You feel Zuko moving behind you, and assume he’s nodding.

   “You got hit pretty hard.” He whispers. You’re appreciative of the fact that he has lowered his voice. “Good thing your head is so hard.” 

    And there it is. You decide to be the bigger person and ignore him.

   “Hit with what?” You ask.

    “Magic, dear.” Says a wheezing voice. All of a sudden, light fills up the cave again, and you squeeze your eyes shut against it.

    Your head pounds viciously in response to the brightness, and you groan again.

   “Sorry about that.” The voice says again, and this time you can tell that it belongs to a woman. An old one by the sound of it.

    You hear shuffling near you, and then something is pressed to your lips.

   “Drink this, it’ll make you feel better.” She says.

    You shake your head, but she pressed the vial through your lips anyways, and forces your head back.

   “Leave her alone!” Zuko snaps.

   “Don’t worry firebender, I haven’t forgotten you.” The old woman says.

    The sweet liquid slides down your throat, and instantly your pain fades. You open your eyes to a wizened woman with a shock of bright white hair. Her eyes are crazed, and instantly you have a bad feeling about her. She winks at you and then moves away, one of her legs dragging behind her.

    You briefly take stock of you surroundings. The room is made of stone, so clearly you haven’t left the cave. That at least would make it easier if you escaped. The room is cluttered with vials, plants, and random torn pages. On one of the make shift tables you see a large cauldron and a mortar and pestle.

    “You’re a witch.” Your voice is flat.

     The old woman let’s out a shrieking cackle.

   “If that’s what you want to call it! Now I think it’s time you answer a few of my questions.” She says, crossing her arms.

    “We don’t owe you anything!” Zuko says through clenched teeth. You can feel his anger heating his body from where your backs touch.

   “No?” She says coyly. “You came to my cave to attack me!” She squeals, one eye twitching.

    “We didn’t come to attack you.” You say, trying to maintain the peace. Maybe she could be reasoned with. You feel Zuko tense behind you, and you know he’s preparing for a fight.

    “Then why were you sneaking into my cave, with this one on fire?” She says nodding in Zuko’s direction.

    This is the tricky part, figuring out how much to tell her. She clearly isn��t a fan of the Fire Nation, due to her reaction with Zuko, but maybe that isn’t true. Maybe she knows who Zuko is, and is a Fire Nation sympathizer.

    “Well?” She questions.

    “We’re traveling with the Avatar, and he sent us up here to check this place out while he went to help the nearby village.” You blurt. It comes out of nowhere, and it was definitely not what you meant to say at all.

    Horrified, you gasp. Zuko tenses begins you.

   “What did you do to her?” He demands.

   “Just a little truth potion.” She hums. “Can’t hurt to know the people around you are honest.”

     You clamp your mouth, biting into your lip hard enough to draw blood.

    “We’re not your enemy.” Zuko says. “You don’t need to restrain us. Or trick us into telling the truth.”

     You watch as the old woman paces back and forth.

    “I am Kara.” She says finally. “Years ago, I made a deal with Fire Nation to protect my people. I would provide them with some magical assistance, if they would spare my village.”

    “You’re helping them?” You cry out.

    “Don’t judge me too harshly girl.” The woman snaps. “I did what I could for my people, just as you try to do.”

    “The Avatar will free you’re village.” Zuko says. “You will be able to prosper without Fire Nation soldiers breathing down your neck. Let us go, and we will be able to help him.”

    Something in his voice makes your heart stutter. Maybe it’s the sincerity in his voice, or the hard edge of determination. You have got to stop thinking about Zuko that way.

    Kara laughs and shakes her head.

    “No one will be able to defeat them. Not even the Avatar.” She shakes her head, sadly.

    “We have! Many times before.” You say. You don’t like Kara talking badly about Aang. He has almost mastered all of the elements, and you know he has what it takes to defeat Ozai. You all have done so much good for people already. 

    Kara just shakes her head again, and resumes pacing.

   “I’m sorry.” She says finally. “I wish your friend well, but I can’t let you leave without knowing you aren’t a threat to the Fire Nation. If they know that I didn’t do anything I could to help them, they will hurt the people I love.”

    Kara begins muttering under her breath, and you tense up. You hate being completely vulnerable and open to an attack. Zuko must be on the same page, for you can feel him struggling against the bonds.

    “Heat them up.” You whisper as quietly as you can. “Burn them.”

    Kara starts going around and picking out various objects from her jars.

   “I can’t. Your hands are too close, I’ll burn you.” He says.

   “You’ll have to. It’s the only way we’re getting out of here!” You snap.

   “No.” He says, hotly.

    “Zuko!”

    “I’m not going to hurt you, y/n!” He growls.

    To your dismay, your arguing has caught the attention of Kara. She has a bright gleam in her eyes as she’s watching you two.

    “I see.” She says. Then she starts laughing hysterically, wiping tears from her eyes.

    “I know just what to do! But first, young lady, just how much does this boy mean to you?”

    The truth spills from your lips again without your control.

    “A lot.” You say, and then you’re whole face turns red. You’re mortified, but at least Zuko can’t see your face.

   Kara giggle with glee and then nods to herself

 “Oh yes, just the thing.” She comes over to you both, and plucks hairs from your heads.

   “Hey!” You and Zuko both protest.

  She sets the hairs in a bowl, and then starts talking to herself again, this time loudly enough for you to hear. She’s speaking in a foreign language of some sort, and hastily you begin to tug on your bonds again.

   “Zuko, just do it!” You say.

     In a surprisingly fast move, Zuko manages to wrench his wrists away from yours and singe the ropes without burning you. He is up and shooting flames at Kara in an instant.

    The bowl catches on fire, but it’s a pink fire, something magical and not from Zuko.

    “You’re too late!” She cackles gleefully. Then she disappears in a plume of smoke, and you and Zuko are left alone in the cave.

                                  ——————————————

   You  are both on high alert as you make your way back to camp. Every noise makes you jumpy, as you wait for Kara’s spell to start working. You make it out of the woods without so much as a scratch. Though it looks like you’ve avoided her wrath, something feels off.

   “You’re too late.” She had said. Chills race up and down your spine.

   Zuko keeps lighting and extinguishing his fists. You think maybe he’s trying to make sure he can still bend. Possible scenarios play over and over in your head. There were thousands of things she could do to sabotage you and Zuko. She could take away his bending, paralyze you, or turn you into bugs. The possibilities are endless, and yet nothing has happened.

   The Gaang is waiting up for you when you finally arrive back at camp. You tell them about the witch and her curse. Sokka rolls his eyes and seems unconcerned.

   “She’s just a crackpot you guys. Obviously nothing will happen.”

   Toph seconds his notion, but Aang and Katara look wary. Katara makes you and Zuko repeat the story until you’re blue in the face, but she can’t figure it out any more than you can.

  You are too embarrassed from your admission to talk to Zuko, or even bicker with him like you normally would. You quickly excuse yourself to go to sleep, and spend the rest of the evening hiding in your tent.

   You fall into a restless sleep that night. You dream of the horrible things you considered happening to you. In one dream you’re a frog, in the other you’re pinned to the ground unable to move.

   You’re utterly exhausted when you’re woken up by you’re own screaming.

                             ————————————————-

  You sit up in your tent immediately. You knew you heard yourself scream, but it hadn’t come from your mouth. Seconds later, you burst into your tent.

  Your clone stops and look at you, with wide eyes.

  “Y/n?” Your voice asks you.

   “Yes?” You say, but it isn’t your voice that comes out when you speak. Instead, it’s Zuko’s rasp that forms the words.

   All of a sudden the pieces of the puzzle start clicking together.

   “Oh no.” You say horrified, and look down at your body.

   You have muscles now, and you feel stronger, bigger. You reach a hand up and grab a handful of short, ebony locks. Your other hand traces your features, and you feel the rough scar under the pads of your fingers.

   “This can’t be real.” You say in Zuko’s voice. “This can’t be happening.”

   “It’s happening.” Zuko says.

   It’s weird to see yourself objectively like this. You have this horrible out of body feeling, and it’s making your head spin. Anxiety hits you, and you start breathing heavy. You’re going to pass out.

    “Calm down!” Zuko says, rushing over to you. He wraps his arms around you, himself? Ugh it’s too confusing.

  “If you don’t calm down, you’re going to burn this tent down and hurt yourself!” He says. He awkwardly starts rubbing your back. “Breathe with me.” He instructs.

   Slowly, you start to calm down. Zuko lets his, your?, hands linger for a moment longer, before he pulls away and puts some distance between you.

    “What are we going to do?” You ask. Zuko makes a face at how weak his voice sounds.

    “I don’t know.” He says. His mannerisms look so weird on your body. You can tell that it’s him, just by the way he holds himself. You wonder if he’s experiencing the same thing watching you in his body.

  “We need to go back to the cave, demand that Kara gives us our bodies back.” You say.

   Zuko rolls your eyes.

  “I’m sure that will go over well.” He says.

  “Don’t make me sound all crabby.” You snap at him.

  “Don’t make me sound all girly and pathetic!” He retorts.

  “Pathetic?!”

  “Oh Zuko,” he mocks “what are we going to do? Save me Zuko, I care a lot about you!”

  “You’re so annoying!” You shout, embarrassed that he remembered your confession.

   “Can we not fight this early in the morning!” Sokka says, throwing open your tent.

  “Oh.” He says, looking between the two of you.

  You realize in embarrassment that you and Zuko are awfully close together, and you are in Zuko’s body in your sleeping bag. It has to look like Zuko slept in your tent.

   “Sokka, we can explain.” You say.

   Sokka hurriedly shakes his head, raising his hands.

   “No, no. Please don’t.” He says.

   “Sokka listen, the witch really did curse us.” Zuko says. “She made us switch bodies.”

    Sokka looks between the two of you and then bursts into laughter.

    “Ok well I have to say that’s the first time I’ve hear that excuse.” He says, wiping tears from the corners of his blue eyes.

   “We’re serious!” You snap at him.

    Sokka sobers up, looking between you two again.

   “You really did perfect your impressions of one another.” Sokka says, suddenly sounding a bit more unsure.

    “Ugh!” You snap, and push out of the tent in a huff. You need to find Toph. She could prove you weren’t lying.

     It’s cold outside your tent, and to your horror you find that you’re not wearing a shirt.

    “Zuko!” You screech. “Why the hell aren’t you wearing a shirt!”

   “I’m a firebender, y/n. I get hot!” He defends.

   “Get me a shirt!” You snap. Zuko rolls his eyes at your dramatics, but leads you to his tent and throws a tunic at you.

    It smells like him when you pull it over your head. You try not to obviously inhale, but it’s the first time you’ve really noticed how Zuko smells. It’s not the first time you’ve noticed his muscles, but now you have a first hand look. His abs are hard and defined, and you blush quickly finishing dressing.

    “Are you done starting at me?” Zuko asks.

    “I’m sorry, it’s just weird!” You tell him.

  Sokka’s jaw is nearly touching the ground as he watches your exchange.

   “No way.” He says, finally believing you.

  “Yeah, Sokka.” You say.

                           ——————————————————

  Toph confirms your story, and everyone sits in dumbfounded silence. Even you and Zuko don’t have much more to say.

  “Well you have to go talk to Kara.” Katara says helpfully. “We’ll have to make her change you back.”

   “Wow that’s helpful. Thank you Katara, why didn’t we think of that.” Zuko says.

  “Y/n!” Katara says, hurt.

  “Zuko.” You and Zuko both correct her.

  “Whatever.” She mutters, angrily.

  “Katara’s right.” Says Aang. “We’ll all go. Maybe if I can convince her that I can help, she’ll change you back.”

   There seems to be no better plan than this. Sokka and Toph stay behind at the campsite, while the rest of you start the hike up the mountain.

   The breeze isn’t so bad now that you’re in Zuko’s body. He’s right when he says that he doesn’t get cold. He, on the other hand, is openly shivering in your body. You almost feel a little bad, but you remember him telling you it wasn’t that bad last night, and think better of it.

   “How do you survive like this?” He moans when you come to a stop. “It’s so cold all the time.”

   You smirk at his dramatics.

  “That’s what you get.”

   “For what!” He questions, and you can feel the fight brewing.

   “Oh I don’t know, maybe ‘You’re so dramatic y/n.’” You mock. “’It’s not that cold, y/n. Calm down, y/n’”

“I wasn’t telling you to calm down because you were cold.” He snaps. “I was trying to tell you to stop panicking!” He throws his hands up and stomps ahead.

   It’s a little embarrassing, and you think back to every tantrum you’ve thrown. Maybe this is a somewhat positive experience. You’re definitely learning about the annoying things you do.

   You and Zuko bicker all the way up the mountain. Though it’s not unusual for you all, but you can tell it’s driving Aang and Katara crazy.

   “Can you all please knock it off!” Katara yells, eventually. All three of you jump, and she crosses her arms. “I am sick and tired of hearing you all argue. That’s all you do every day! Can’t you all come to some sort of truce?”

   You and Zuko both narrow your eyes at each other.

 “No!” You say at the same time.

   “Ugh!”

                         —————————————————-

  You make it up the mountain alive, but barely. Everyone’s tempers are running high by the time you break through the trees.

  “Alright,” Zuko says. “We need to be careful. She knocked y/n out with one blow. She’ll do it again if we aren’t careful.”

   You’re about to protest the way he makes your ambush sound, but Aang mediates before your get riled up.

   “Just let it go.” He tells you.

   You all enter the cave quietly, heads constantly scanning the area as Zuko leads you down to the belly of the cave. You recognize the room when you get to it. The evidence of Kara is everywhere, still littered around the floor.

   “She isn’t here?” Zuko says.

    “Great observation.” You retort.

   “Guys, guys!” Aang snaps. “Enough. Let’s look through the books around here. There’s got to be something that tells us how to fix this.”

   The four of you spend what feels like hours combing through the books and pages around the room.

    “There’s nothing here!” Zuko cries, slamming a book onto the table.

    “That’s because it’s a spell of my own invention.” Kara’s wheezy voice says.

    You all jump into defensive stances, ready to attack. Kara holds up a wrinkled hand, but otherwise looks unbothered.

    “Please.” She says passively. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

    “Change back my friends!” Aang demands. “It’s me you have a problem with.”

   “Ah the Avatar.” Kara smiles. “You really are here.”

    “Yes. And I promise I will free your village. But first you must free my friends.” He says.

   “I’m afraid I can’t do that.” She says, eyes glittering again.

    “Why not?” Katara challenges.

    “I can’t change them back, because they must do it themselves.” She smiles.

   “What do you mean?” You ask, broad furrowing. There’s a light protesting from Zuko’s scar at the movement.

    “Save my village and I’ll tell you.” She says. “And you better do it fast, because in three days this will become permanent.”

                            ————————————————-

   Freeing the village from Fire Nation troops is going to be a bigger struggle than you anticipated, you realize as you and Zuko stroll down the streets. You currently have a hood pulled way over your head to hide your identity. There seemed to be hundred of them, and there were only six of you.

   “We’re never going to be able to pull this off.” You mutter under your breath. “I’m going to be you forever.”

   “How do you think I feel?” Zuko laments. “I’m losing my bending, my honor, everything.”

    “Well we wouldn’t be in this mess if I had just gone up there alone.” You snap as you approach the center of the village. 

    “Right, if you had gone alone you would’ve been killed!” He snaps back.

    “Why do you assume I’m so incapable of taking care of myself?!” You’re infuriated now. “I took care of myself for years before I ever met you!”

    “Don’t see how!” He growls. “All you ever do is get yourself in trouble, and someone always has to be there to help!”

    “Excuse me?!” You roar. “How dare you?!”

    The Fire Nation soldiers are slowly starting to gather around you, curious about the fight.

   “How dare I?” Zuko ramps up the volume. “How dare you?” He points a finger at your chest.

   So far, your distraction seems to be working. Aang, Katara, Sokka, and Toph are all getting into position. You just have to keep up the fighting a little longer.

   “You’re always babying me, and acting like I need a keeper! I’m not a child, and you don’t have to take it upon yourself to be my caretaker! I’m just fine on my own!” You yell, channeling his body’s natural penchant for rage.

    “Somebody has to!” Zuko snaps back, and over exaggerates putting his hand on his hip. “You never do it yourself. You’re always doing reckless things for other people, and your not as equipped to throw yourself in danger like everyone else!”

    Suddenly this fight feels a bit too real, and you find yourself getting actually offended. How dare he insinuate that your lack of bending meant you weren’t a good fighter!

   “What so I’m not allowed to care about my friends and do things to protect them?” You screech. “I’m sorry I don’t have all your talents, my lord. Next time I’ll make sure I get your permission first before I try and help somebody out!”

    “You always take everything I say out of context!” He snaps.

     “Hey guys?” Aang says, garnering the attention of the crowd. “I think that’s good enough, thanks.”

     Then all chaos breaks loose. Katara, Aang, and Toph start the fight with their bending. The Fire Nation soldiers, though caught unaware, do not take long to start fighting back. You wish that you knew how to utilize Zuko’s firebending, but you settle on using his physical strength instead.

   Most of the defense moves you know are geared towards you being smaller than your opponent. Not all of them work now that you’re Zuko’s size, and you find yourself struggling more than usual in your fights.

   Zuko seems to be having a similar issue learning how to fight in your body. You notice he has a habit of getting into bending stances out of pure habit. You notice that he’s getting cornered, when you go to help him.

   Together, you fight pretty well, instructing each other on moves as you go. Sokka’s boomerang flies about, knocking out opponents left and right. Your benders are doing well too, and soon enough, you’ve defeated the Fire Nation soldiers.

   You’re sore, body aching from exertion, but the happy villagers make it feel worth it.

   “Thank you, Avatar!” Someone yells after Aang explains who you all are.

    Your eyes find Kara’s in the crowd. It was time you got your body back.

   “Hey!” You yell as she walks away.

    “Y/n?” You hear Zuko call behind you as you take off, pushing through the crowd.

    “Hey! Stop!” You yell at Kara. “You owe us an explanation!”

      Zuko catches up to you, and you both chase after her. Finally, Kara stops in the woods, away from all the people.

     “I thought you’d want some privacy!” She cackles. “I saw your little distraction out there. Seemed pretty real.” You and Zuko shuffle and avoid eye contact, as the rest of the Gaang catches up with you.

  “We saved your village!” Aang says, “Now tell us how to fix this.” He waves a hand at you and Zuko.

   Kara’s eyes sparkle as she looks at all of you.

  “As I said, I can’t change you back. You have to do it yourselves.” She sings.

  “How?” Zuko grounds out through his, your, clenched jaw.

   “All you have to do is kiss!” She says gleefully clapping her hands together.

   Everyone is silent as you all take in this information.

   “There has to be another way.” Zuko says. There’s a desperate edge to his voice that hurts your feelings. Is the thought of kissing you so awful that he wouldn’t do it even to get his body back?

    Rolling your eyes, you stroll over and kiss Zuko’s, your, cheek. It’s a weird experience for sure, knowing that you’re kissing both Zuko and yourself.

   “Not that kind of kiss.” Kara says, smiling like a maniac. “A real one!”

   The color drains from Zuko’s face, and the rest of your friends remain silent. You can feel their eyes watching your every move. 

  Zuko’s disgust is plain, and even though it hurts, you just want your body back and to forget this every happened.

   “Zuko, I know you’re absolutely disgusted, but I’d like my body back before I’m you forever.” You say annoyed. “You can wash out your mouth and vomit when you have your own body back.”

   You can hear the muted hurt in your own voice, and it’s kind of embarrassing that you know everyone else can hear it too.

   “I’m afraid it’s the only way.” Kara adds.

   “If it helps just think about the fact that you’re kissing yourself, not me.” You say. More than ever you want this experience to be over, so you can go mourn your hurt feelings somewhere in private.

    Zuko sighs, and then approaches you.

  “Fine.” He says.

  Awkwardly, you both fidget, unsure how to initiate the kiss. It doesn’t help that literally everyone, including Momo and Appa, are looking at you.

   “Some privacy?” You ask them.

   “Oh yeah sure.” They all mumble, whistling and looking away. The second you turn back to Zuko you can feel their eyes on you. Some friends.

   “Let’s just get it over-” you get cut off by Zuko pressing his lips to yours.

    Instantly, you feel the switch happening. You feel yourself being pulled and re-anchored into your own body. Your limbs feel normal again, and then you really start to feel the kiss.

   Zuko pulls you closer to his warm, muscular body. Everything is exploding around you, and all you want to do is be even closer to him. You bring your arms up and settle them on his broad shoulders. Your hands wind themselves around his neck, and you play with the ends of his hair.

   Zuko’s large hands are also doing their fair share of exploring. One rests on your hips while the other tangles itself in your hair, and both pull you closer. His tongue opens your lips and you let him in, a moan escaping from you. It feels right, kissing Zuko like this. Like it is something that was always meant to happen.

   Somebody clears their throat and breaks up your moment. Slowly, you and Zuko part. You’re thrilled to realize it’s his swollen lips and amber eyes that you see when you pull away.

   “Well that was something!” Kara squeals in delight.

    Heat pools into your cheeks, as you asses your friends’ expressions. Aang looks embarrassed, Katara has heart eyes, and Toph and Sokka both look disgusted.

   “It worked.” You say breathlessly. Already you have the intense desire to kiss Zuko again, but suddenly you’re insecure. What if he hated it? He had seemed so disgusted before.

   “Yeah it did.” Zuko says, and then he smiles at you, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Some privacy?” He asks everyone, tightening his grip on you. Butterflies explode in your stomach as he does, and you’ve never felt so fluttery before.

   Your friends make themselves scarce, telling you they’ll be at camp. Kara scrambles off too, cackling all the while, and then you are alone.

  Your heart is pounding, and you’re really unsure how to tell Zuko how you feel. What if he doesn’t feel the same?

   Suddenly, Zuko presses his lips to yours again, and it feels like he’s devouring you. He’s passionate and fiery, and every press of his tongue against yours makes you feel like you’re on fire. Your body is buzzing when he finally pulls away to catch his breath.

   “I didn’t mean what I said during our fight.” He says, leaning his forehead against yours and wrapping his arms around your waist. “I don’t think you’re incapable or less than because you aren’t a bender. I think you’re one of the most talented people I know, and I also know that you can take care of yourself.” He says taking a deep breath.

   Zuko takes a step back, and removed an arm to put a finger under your chin. He lift your chin so you’re looking into his eyes.

   “I worry about you. All the time.” He says. “I’m so scared that you’ll get hurt and I won’t be there to protect you. My number one instinct is to protect you. That’s why I always ‘hover’ and volunteer to go on missions with you. If something happened to you....”

   “I feel the same way about you, you know.” You say smiling. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt either. And I don’t necessarily hate it when you’re around.” You tease him. “Or when you kiss me.”

   Zuko laughs, a deep happy laugh. It’s one of the first times you’ve ever seen him look so buoyant. You take the opportunity to kiss him this time, and he sighs happily into your mouth.

    “What are we going to do now?” You ask him.

    “Probably get back to our friends.” He says, grabbing your hand in his as you start making your way to your camp site.

    “You know, Zuko, Toph’s right.” You say. “You really do take people on life changing adventures!”

A/n: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this! I’ve been working on my requests so hopefully I’ll have a few more stories out for you guys over the weekend. I’m going to be adding some things to my ‘Fanfic prompts’ post, so be sure to check it out if you want to request something! (also I’m fine with people requesting things that aren’t on that list if you have something specific for me to write!) Have a good weekend, and you can find all my other writing under the tag slythergirlimagines. I think I tagged everyone who asked to be tagged in my atla stuff, but if I missed you please let me know and I’ll correct it!!

Taglist: @galacticamidala​ @a-random-queer-kid​ @taeeemin​ @realimbo​ @samsmultifandomblogs​

@fire1ordzuzu​ @shortmexicangirl​

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ 29

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ Word Count: 5.5k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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✧✧✧ act four ➻ part four

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Silence is like an old friend: always present and there for you even when everyone and everything else left you. You find comfort in the quiet, and as such, you normally wouldn’t find yourself so bothered by the absence of sound. Yet here you are, standing a few feet from Jongho’s bed in a room that is all too cold and all too quiet. Truly, there isn’t much to say, but that doesn’t keep you from wanting to speak up and offer some sort of weak attempt to get him to stay. Before you can, however, San beats you to it. You aren’t sure whether to be grateful or not because the lingering goodbye just hovers on your tongue now.

“Are you truly going to do this, Jongho?”

The Berserker hesitates where he stands near the bed, hands clasped around a small bundle of clothes. For a moment, you think he’s going to ignore San’s question and continue to pack in silence. Then, he offers a shrug.

“Hongjoong didn’t stop me, did he?” You shake your head with a certain fervor to your movements.

“There’s no way he wants you to leave,” you counter. Perhaps it is merely an attempt to cling to that hope, but the Hongjoong you saw in his quarters was a version of him you’ve never seen before. Jongho shifts to look at you, eyes a bit melancholy as he drags his gaze over your face.

“Obviously information is far more important than I am.” He says the words with a bit of a laugh to his tone, though all three of you know that there’s no humor to be found in this situation. Your lips fold into a delicate frown.

“Why is this even an issue? Is there a reason why Hongjoong is so adamant about bringing Mingi to the arena? Why can’t he just stay on the ship while the rest of us go on the mission?” You shake your head a bit as you ask the questions and drop your gaze to the floor. There is no reasonable explanation as to why Hongjoong would behave this way in your mind, no matter how many excuses you try to give in his defense.

“Because Vladimir plays dirty,” San says through a sigh. “He knows that Mingi is on this crew, and he’s been after Mingi for years. Offered countless deals and bargains for Mingi’s head, trying to get Hongjoong to give him up. Hongjoong has always turned down the offers without a second thought, but that doesn’t keep Vladimir from trying time and time again. He wants Mingi. And he is a man who is used to getting what he wants.”

“Do you think that what he’s after?” You inquire, blinking over to where San stands with arms folded neatly over his chest.

“If he has agreed to meet Hongjoong, then yeah. That means he, in the very least, has eyes on the ship. So if he sees every member of the crew leave the ship except for Mingi, his men will ambush and take Mingi by any means necessary. Even if someone stays behind with Mingi, the risk is still there. Thus… Hongjoong would rather risk Mingi having an episode in the arena or take the easy way out and wipe his brain.”

“But why?” It still doesn’t make sense to you, but at this rate, it’s seeming less and less likely that it will ever make sense. “That seems too pricy a cost for such a small risk, along with the assumption that Mingi can’t protect himself.”

“It isn’t about cost,” Jongho cuts in. “Nor is it a failure to believe in Mingi’s capabilities. It’s… deeper than that. Hongjoong always worries about something happening to Mingi when he isn’t there. He thinks it’s risky enough to send Mingi with San and me, but he can’t bring him to Vladimir. That would be the worst of all shitty ass ideas. Do I see the logic in bringing Mingi to the arena? Of course, I do. Having him be off to the side and in one of the wings – that would make it easier to keep him out of Vladimir’s sights. It would help him blend in with the crowd, hide from whatever guards Vladimir will have, more space to run if the need arises. You can’t do that on a ship with only a few exits. Hongjoong is thinking, and he’s thinking hard, yes, but at the same time, he’s being a complete dumbass.”

The steady thrum of silence follows Jongho’s explanation, and you can’t come up with anything to say in response. Neither can San, or so it seems, because he offers a nod but nothing other than that. Then, like a switch being flipped in his brain, he spins to face you with inquisitive eyes.

“You’re the only one here who has actually had the procedure done.” It isn’t spoken like a question, moreso a fact, but you find yourself responding as though it is one nonetheless.

“Yes? As far as I’m aware.”

“Well, that would also make you the only person who knows what it’s like to go through that even if the memories of it are hazy and foggy.” You press your lips tightly together, unable to look San in the eye any longer. The embarrassment of your earlier collapse and partial breakdown is still fresh, and as much as you don’t want to admit it, you also are struggling to get past the harsh memory. “Would you willingly subject another person to that?”

Ah, morality. An equally funny and tricky thing to handle in any situation. Now, it seems even more delicate and fragile, something you have to weigh ever so carefully to keep from saying the wrong thing. What is wrong when it comes to criminals though? Are there different rules to play by, a separate set of guidelines that all should follow to decide what’s best, or does one leave it to fate instead? Let the universe decide how morality should be weighed on the scales of justice?

You’ve never been one to listen to the universe, even when it stands in your path and screams for you to listen.

“Only if they want it,” you start in a whispered tone. “Never against their will obviously but… but if someone were to ask for it and agree to it, then yes.”

“So if Mingi truly wants it, then you would be okay with the method?” San’s question stops you in your tracks. Perhaps you have said the wrong thing or made a mistake in saying what you did — you are well aware of what San’s response would be, so maybe that is why he is so frustrated with yours. San would have you say that it is impermissible under any and all circumstances, even with clearly defined guidelines and consent. His morals make you question your own even though you know where he is coming from. To him, it is all a matter of relations. Having a relationship with a solid foundation means that it is perfectly alright to think that way. Yet using San’s moral guidelines, that would mean that the closer you get to someone, the more you take away from them. Their choice, their thought process, how they decide things, even their own moral standards. Can you truly permit that in good conscience? For once, your answer seems clear.

“Yes,” you relent after a few breaths of hesitation. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“Would you say the same if it were myself or Jongho? Or Seonghwa?” Again, you hesitate – this time longer than before, and you almost neglect to answer the question entirely. You muster up the courage at the last second, however, but you don’t think it’s the response San wants to hear still.

“Again, if it’s what you truly want, then why would it be fair for someone to stop you? Why take away that choice?”

“But Hongjoong is taking away Mingi’s choice now!” Jongho argues, stepping towards you with knitted brows. “He is abusing his power as Captain! He knows that Mingi would do absolutely anything that he told him to do. It’s not free will or a choice if someone only gives you one option.”

“And yet… it’s not all Hongjoong, is it?” San inquires through a delicate frown. “Yunho is the one who brought it up and made it an option in the first place.”

Jongho brings a hand to his hair, carding his fingers through the dark locks sitting atop his head. He drops his gaze to the floor too and refuses to look in San’s direction until he makes it back to where he was packing clothes.

“Yeah, I already ripped into him for that.”

“Do you know why he did it? It doesn’t make sense for Yunho of all people to bring it up. Out of everyone, he’s the one with the strongest moral compass, so why – no, how – how could he do something so immoral?”

“Morals are different for everyone.” Jongho huffs air through his nose and lets the sound fill the air without interruption for several moments. “What’s moral to one person could be wholly immoral to another. Look at how Mingi was raised, how he was taught that the way he thinks is right and that it’s the proper method of thought and morality. Others consider him to be an immoral monster with no concept of right and wrong, but in his own mind, that isn’t how it works. Yunho… Yunho genuinely believes that doing this is truly the only option. We’ve never seen eye to eye on Mingi’s condition, of course, but – or how to help, now that I think about it – but I know I can’t convince Yunho to change his mind. Hongjoong however? I can change his mind for certain.”

“What do y–” The door interrupts you, sliding open before you can complete the question, and you whip to face the source of the sound. San and Jongho move with you, eyes reaching the door before yours do. You almost expect to find Hongjoong standing there just based on the sigh that through Jongho’s lips, but you’re even more surprised to see that it is Seonghwa instead. He pauses midstride upon seeing you, no doubt expecting to find Jongho alone in the room. His mouth hangs slightly open as his eyes dart up to meet yours. The stare lingers too long, continuing to bore into you as he shifts his chin in Jongho’s direction.

“Lieutenant,” Jongho greets. His tone is cold and flat, almost like nothing is different about this situation. You know better than to believe that. Jongho’s next words only solidify that fact. “I suppose that’s the last time I’ll be calling you that.”

It’s like a knife in the chest yet somehow ten times worse. San’s expression visibly twists, and he turns away so that no one sees the extent of his pain.

“Don’t think so negatively, Jongho,” Seonghwa murmurs as he steps further into the room. “Hongjoong doesn’t want you to leave. Why would he ever want that?”

“Then why isn’t he here to tell me that himself?” Jongho snorts out a laugh following the harsh question. “Why is it that good Lieutenant Park always does the dirty work for him?”

“Come now, Jongho. Don’t get bitter now of all times.”

“Oh, fuck off! Let me be bitter! Mingi is the only fucking person on this ship who knows what it’s like to feel the way I feel and suffer the way I suffer. He’s the only person who I think can give me the redemption I need so desperately. He has always been my responsibility and mine alone. I know how to help him, I believe in him, and I put some damn faith in him getting better without any fucking procedures. I can be bitter all I want because Hongjoong is putting zero faith in Mingi.”

“I understand, Jongho.”

In the blink of an eye, Jongho has moved from the edge of the bed to the wall, the only thing between him and the metal being Seonghwa. His hand closes around Seonghwa’s throat while the other draws back as though he’s about to punch the lieutenant.

“You don’t understand shit!”

Seonghwa doesn’t dare to budge, but both you and San snap into action, rushing to grab Jongho and pull him off the other man. Before you have the chance to do anything, Seonghwa lifts his hand and makes a halting motion.

“You can hit me if it’ll make you feel better.”

Jongho’s fist wavers where it is, and he lowers it back down to his side after a moment without doing anything. His hand falls away from Seonghwa’s throat as well, letting the lieutenant breathe easily once more, and he steps away while heaving a deep sigh.

“You shouldn’t take everything for Hongjoong. If I’m gonna hit someone, it’ll be him.” Jongho waves a hand towards the door. “If all you came here to do was be a punching bag for Hongjoong, then you can go.”

“No, actually... that’s not why I came.” Seonghwa pushes himself off the wall, straightening the collar of his turtleneck as best he can. “I don’t want to use the serum, Jongho. I don’t want Mingi to go near the arena at all. Hongjoong and I -- we never came to an agreement about it after everyone left. He merely made the decision as the captain. I tried my best to change his mind, I truly did, but I couldn’t -- I-I don’t understand why I couldn’t.” Seonghwa’s gaze darts to the floor, looking over the patterns along the carpet before pulling back up to look Jongho in the eye. He stretches a hand out and clamps it over Jongho’s shoulder. The Berserker allows the touch, albeit begrudgingly. “I truly don’t want any harm to come to Mingi, but I can’t stop Hongjoong just by talking to him.”

Seonghwa glances past Jongho’s shoulder to stare San in the eye with such intensity to his gaze that you get a chill down your spine.

“The mission tomorrow cannot be successful under any circumstances.”

“Yes, you’re right.” San hums to himself for a moment, then looks off to the side. “The only way to stop Hongjoong from getting his way would be to fail to get the serum. What’s the plan then? We should destroy the serum if we find it, no?” San turns to you now, eyes expectant and waiting for some sort of input on your part, but you genuinely don’t know what he wants you to say.

Instead of saying anything, you shift your chin in the opposite direction and avoid his probing stare.

“What’s on your mind, Y/N?”

“Nothing,” you mutter back quickly.

No matter which way you look at the situation, you can only see it as taking away Mingi’s choice. No one is asking him what he wants, and while you understand the reasoning behind that, you cannot grasp how this is the just thing to do. Whether you give him the serum or not, he won’t have a say in the matter. Where is the line drawn? When it comes to morality, when is it okay to take away someone’s consent and leave them with nothing? Surely when it comes to protecting them, but both these options... both can defend him. What then?

No one presses you for answers, and you’re immensely grateful for that because it allows you to ask your next question with relative ease.

“How are we going to pull this off with Yeosang on the mission? Wouldn’t he tell Hongjoong?”

“Even Yeosang will see reason,” San argues. A sigh passes through Seonghwa’s slightly parted lips.

“I would take Yeosang’s place on the mission, but given my resistance to the plan... that would be suspicious. Hongjoong knows me far too well and would see through it in an instant. He picked Yeosang and San because they follow orders best and do what’s asked of them. And he picked Y/N because she’s the one with the most military experience. Yeosang has experience but… he was a prince, not a soldier. His specialty was out in the field, whereas yours was in teams, working in units, not being at the front of the line. That’s why you’re being put on the team, for that experience.”

“Experience that’s absolutely useless,” you snort, folding your arms over your chest. “I don’t remember what the serum looked like. And no offense, but I sure as hell don’t want to try to remember what it looked like either.”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Seonghwa shakes his head, barely sparing you a second glance in favor of looking at San. “In order to get the serum, you’ll be breaking into a military base.”

“Have you gone fucking mad?” San seethes, hands balling into tight fists at his sides. Seonghwa levels him with ease and sends such a heated glare his way that Jongho stands up a bit straighter.

“If you think even for a second that I did not try my damndest to get Hongjoong to change the plan, you would be horribly wrong,” Seonghwa hisses through gritted teeth. San shifts under the weight of his tone but doesn’t say anything in response. “The only reason I left Hongjoong’s quarters was to keep from knocking him out. If there was any other option, I would take it.”

Jongho clears his throat and effectively breaks the tension between the two men, shaking his head slightly as he steps closer to them.

“There is another option.” Jongho jerks his head towards you and San. He points a single finger in your direction, aimed right at your head, and you press your lips together tightly as confusion washes over you. “I’m leaving in the morning at the same time as you two and Yeosang are to leave for the mission. You will have comms on hand, obviously. Yeosang and San can sneak into the base, guided by you over comms, but you won’t have to set foot inside. And at least for your peace of mind and security, I can stay with you at a secure location while you guide them through the base.”

“That...” Seonghwa trails off and draws his lips together in a tight knot. “That might work, actually.”

“Wow, don’t sound so surprised.”

“No, I’m not surprised,” Seonghwa retorts through a scoff. “I’ll be in charge of listening over comms throughout the mission. If we can come up with a system – a sort of code word – to keep Hongjoong from catching on, we might be able to pull this off. I’ll be at the comms station on the bridge, so Hongjoong won’t hear anything except for what I say. Thus, I can’t very well say that it’s time to destroy the serum.”

“When I was – in my team in the military, we had a system for explosive and detonation squadrons,” you cut in, fingers snapping together in sudden realization. 

“I didn’t realize you were a part of an explosives team,” Seonghwa remarks. His brows draw together a bit as he speaks, and you can sense the question on his lips before he even asks it. 

“That’s the thing you’re most concerned about right now?” You don’t intend for the question to come out so aggressive, and the slight shock that passes over Seonghwa’s expression only serves to make you feel ten times worse about the slip of your tongue. “Anyway, there was always a worry of someone listening in on our comms, so it was a failsafe more than anything else, but we used ‘package’ as a keyword for a bomb. ‘Secure the package’ meant it was time to place the bomb, ‘package secured’ meant that the bomb was in place and ready to be detonated, and ‘come home’ was a go signal for detonation. A bit basic, yes, but useful nonetheless.”

“That should be a perfect plan, no?” San inquires, blinking over at where Seonghwa is standing. The lieutenant maintains his stare on you for quite some time; he almost seems lost in thought to a certain degree, and it takes San clearing his throat for Seonghwa to snap out of it.

“Yes, we’ll just need the package to be the serum rather than a bomb. Jongho—” he outstretches a hand to the Berserker, hesitating a few inches from his arm, “—does this mean that you’ll stay then?”

“Only if you manage to pull this off.”

“I’d like to think I know what I’m doing.” Seonghwa huffs out a light laugh and pulls his hand back to run it through his hair. “This isn’t the first time I’ve gone against Hongjoong’s wishes. Right now though, someone needs to go talk to Yeosang about this plan. Preferably one of you two.” Seonghwa angles two fingers towards you and San, and you glance over at the Spectre before saying anything yourself.

“Yeosang will never listen to me,” San cuts in with a sharp shake of his head. “And I’m not all too inclined to have a one on one conversation with him anyway.”

“Then I’ll go.”

“I’ll go with you,” Jongho mutters through a sigh. “I need to talk to Wooyoung about… this mess. I know he’s the most upset by it.”

“Right, that’ll be fine.” Seonghwa thumbs over his chin, seeming to drift off into thought once more. The wear is starting to show more clearly on his features; the way his blinking has slowed considerably and become a bit hard to keep up with. It’s more than evident that he is struggling to stay awake with each passing second, and that alone makes you wonder exactly how much he and Hongjoong have been up over this past week in preparation for this mission. “Y/N, inform Yeosang of the plan. If Wooyoung is there, it should be easier to convince him since Wooyoung will most certainly agree with the plan. Hopefully, this can be a smooth and painless mission for once, but nonetheless… good luck. I won’t be able to talk to any of you until we’re on comms tomorrow. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go talk to Yunho about what the hell is going through his head in all this mess.”

Seonghwa turns to the door and readies himself to leave, but Jongho doesn’t let him get far, hand darting out to catch hold of the lieutenant’s arm. 

“Keep… keep working on Hongjoong, would you?” Jongho’s request is spoken in a soft tone, and he barely glances up at Seonghwa as he speaks. Seonghwa smiles back at him even though the other man can’t see his expression.

“Of course. We’ll get this worked out as best we can.”

Jongho’s hand falls away from his arm, and Seonghwa takes the opportunity to step out of the room without saying anything else. The silence that drapes over the remaining three of you is not welcome, but you relish in it while you can, knowing that these next few days won’t be peaceful in the slightest. San lets it linger for a few seconds, fingers combing through his dark hair, then he releases a deep sigh.

“Good luck with Yeosang. You’ll need it. I’m gonna head down to the hangar bay to get weapons sorted for tomorrow.”

Jongho nods, and you follow suit quickly when San’s gaze travels over to where you’re standing. He smiles a bit, gaze unreadable as he moves out the door and leaves you and Jongho alone. There’s an opportunity now – you could ask Jongho if he’s truly alright now that it’s just the two of you, but your voice dies in the back of your throat before you can even think about what to say.

“Let’s go get this over with. I’m not looking forward to chatting with Wooyoung.”

“Why not?” You rush to ask the question before you can second-guess yourself, falling into step with Jongho as he leads the way out of the room.

“Outside of Yeosang, I’m the closest to him but… if there was a way to avoid this, then I would have done it. There’s always too much collateral damage when it comes to fights like these. Hurting him is the last thing I wanted to do.” Jongho pauses, lips stuttering and remaining parted for quite some time before he speaks again. “The worst part about being a Berserker isn’t the – the rage or the violent tendencies I feel. It’s t-the pain. When I hurt someone I care about, I feel that pain so strongly, and I – sometimes I wish I could be like Mingi instead, not have the ability to feel bad when that pain comes or not be able to understand it because understanding is worse. This just… it has to work out.”

“It will,” you murmur. Your eyes trace the edges of Jongho’s features – his knitted brows and downcast gaze – and you are in the midst of reaching out to grab his arm when he halts all of a sudden. You forgot how short the walk would be; you’re already standing outside Yeosang’s door, the metal nameplate on the wall reading his name in small letters. Jongho knocks hard at the door with the back of his hand.

“Yeosang, you in there?”

A high-pitched yelp resounds, followed by a hefty thud that sounds something like a body hitting the floor, then Wooyoung’s squealing tone apologizing, and you and Jongho exchange confused glances. Whatever hit the floor – most like Yeosang from the sounds of it – groans and pulls itself up before coming to the door and heaving a deep sigh. The metal panel slides open to reveal a disheveled Yeosang, hair a mess but overall collected. Wooyoung seems to be in a much more scrambled state with his shirt haphazard and untucked, eyes bloodshot – no doubt from crying – and lips a bit swollen and redder than usual. 

“Oh, yikes, did we interrupt something?” Jongho asks, taking a step away from the door.

“Oh, shut up!” Wooyoung huffs as he shoves his way past Yeosang to tackle Jongho with a tight hug. “You’re a dick,” he mumbles into Jongho’s shoulder, and the Berserker laughs at the snarky remark.

“You got me there, I’ll admit it.”

“Why are you here?” Yeosang cuts through the intimate moment to question you, eyes glaring holes into your skull as you linger outside the room. 

“I – We need to talk about the mission,” you explain. Yeosang arches a brow at you and continues to stare without making a sound, then he draws his arms up to fold over his chest. “It’s important, Yeosang.”

“Hm, must be for you to actually call me by name. Come in.” He waves you into the room, eyeing Wooyoung as the man continues to cling to Jongho for dear life. You step in and wait for the door to snap shut before beginning to speak again. 

“Tomorrow, you and San are going into the military alone. I’ll be with Jongho at a different location guiding you over comms. Seonghwa is going to be listening in and helping where he needs to, as well as keeping Hongjoong from figuring out what’s going on. We’ll ne–”

“And what exactly is going on?” Yeosang interjects. His gaze grows colder by the second, hitting you with such intensity that you feel a chill rush through your body. 

“Keeping Hongjoong from getting the serum,” you counter. You’re pushing as much assertiveness as you can into your tone, yet Yeosang still seems unfazed. “We have to keep him from wiping Mingi’s mind!”

“And why is that?”

“Why is that? Are you being fucking serious? Why the hell wouldn’t you be okay with this?” Your tone practically burns your throat as you hiss the words out. You dare to take a step in his direction, but that quickly turns out to be a horrid mistake. 

Yeosang sneers, upper lip curling upwards, then suddenly his fist connects with your stomach. You double over at the impact, and Wooyoung is calling out Yeosang’s name, but the blond is already hellbent on giving you a piece of his mind. Lithe fingers curl around the base of your neck and push you back until you slam against the wall. There’s a striking sense of familiarity to this position – one that takes you back to the dusty desert of Medra where Yeosang left you with a thinly veiled threat concerning your intentions on the ship and crew. 

“You are on thin fucking ice as it is, Y/N. I only maintain civilities with you for Wooyoung’s sake, but honestly, I would have no qualms ending your life where you stand now if not for him. You had best take into consideration that you are not one of us. You haven’t been on this crew nearly long enough to be making such demands, and you haven’t earned an ounce of respect from me. If I were you, I wouldn’t dare to test my patience any more than you already have.”

“Yeosang, stop!” 

Wooyoung pulls away from Jongho and starts to move towards where Yeosang has you pinned. The fingers around your throat tighten to a dangerous degree. Black fills the edges of your vision. 

“Yeosang.” Wooyoung slips through the small gap between you and Yeosang, hands sliding up to cup Yeosang’s cheeks. Yeosang doesn’t relent in his grip. He stares past Wooyoung’s head in favor of glaring at you and doesn’t budge an inch as Wooyoung tries to push him back. “Stop it. Let her go. She’s right about this, and you know it. Are you really okay with forcing Mingi into this? All the progress we’ve made over the years would go down the drain, and for what? Absolutely nothing. Do you really think this is right?”

Yeosang’s grip wavers against your throat, but he still refuses to budge. Wooyoung pushes his head, the grip on his jaw tightening as he forces Yeosang to look at him.

“Look at me, Yeo. Look at me, please.”

“I’m an Elitist, Wooyoung, not some easily swayed Normie with a moral compass. It is in my nature to choose the most logical option. Getting on Hongjoong’s bad side isn’t logical. That won’t protect you in the long run. Taking away the most dangerous part of Mingi, taking away his aggression and hypersensitive trigger happy nature – that protects you.” Wooyoung snorts, head turning to the side as he laughs at Yeosang’s logic.

“Then tell me, Yeo, was shooting the chains of a prisoner and pushing him into an airlock the logical decision?” Yeosang’s eyes flash with barely contained rage. “Or was it the right thing to do?” 

Wooyoung drops his hands away from Yeosang’s face and tugs at the bindings over his injured hand. Yeosang doesn’t seem to process what he’s doing fast enough, and neither do you or Jongho because next thing you know, Wooyoung has his sleeve pulled up and is ripping at the barely closed wound. By the time Yeosang snaps into action, hand wrenching off your throat to stretch towards Wooyoung’s arm, blood already drips down the length of his forearm. Wooyoung smacks Yeosang’s desperate hand away from him and steps out of his reach.

“You can protect me from all sorts of things in the universe, Yeo, but you can’t protect me from myself. The logical thing to do would be to keep me from hurting myself, not allowing it, locking me up in chains and a straight-jacket. Put me in a room with padded walls and no sharp object where I can’t hurt myself. But you can’t do the logical thing, can you?” Wooyoung curls his fingers into a fist and extends his index finger towards Yeosang’s chest. Blood drips to the floor with the motion, and when Wooyoung jabs his finger into Yeosang’s torso, the Elitist lurches as though punched. “There’s a difference between a logical thing and a good thing. It’s time to do the right thing. If not for Mingi, then for me. Because I’m asking you to.”

Yeosang blinks down at the finger pressed to his chest without saying anything for what feels like an eternity. When he next looks up, his expression has lost every ounce of hostility. He matches Wooyoung’s stare with a considerably gentler one, and something akin to pride shines in his dark eyes before he shifts to face you once more.

“I’m on board for now. At least until it’s not the right thing to do anymore.” 

✧✧✧ a/n: hi guys wow this was longer than i anticipated??? i didn’t mean for it to be so long whoopsie bUT!!! big chapter kinda a filler chapter i was gonna make it longer but i decided to save that for the next chapter, so this one is more of an intimate in depth look at things 👀 how do we feel!!!

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[gotmetalkinginmysleep]

Say it Louder

Genre: Smut with Yoongi (as Agust D) x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Consensual acts of BDSM including Knife play, Restraints, Rope play, Sensory Play, Blindfolds, Fear play, Mentions of blood.

Summary: You’re roleplaying with your dom. Need I say more?

Reference: Daechwita by Agust D

Word count: 650 words

Important Note: Although this contains more extreme areas of BDSM I always tell people to research and understand these acts before deciding you want to try them out. It is necessary to discuss this with your partner, including safe words, boundaries and areas of consent. As such, I write this fic on this basis and that this conversation has happened between the characters outside of the narrative below.

Reminder: Make sure you’ve read the warnings above before you read. I’m serious! I told you it wasn’t going to be pretty.

All rights reserved ©Gotmetalkinginmysleep

- - -

Your knees burn against the floor, the matting indenting your skin as you kneel. You can feel them reddening by the second, but not compared by the rope that restrains you. Each knot tied tightly; dressing you sensually that the way it rubs against your skin is shamefully pleasing. A cool breeze travels through the window, encouraging your nipples to harden further as you continue to kneel, awaiting your instruction.

Yoongi’s breathing is all you can hear, heightened by your temporary blindness. The rag pulled tight against your eyes, ensuring you don’t catch a glimpse. In the faint light, he sees you roll and moisten your bottom lip, giving away what the suspense is doing to you.

He moves towards you like he’s going to run you down. Padding heavily across the wooden floor, approaching your position on the mat making the atmosphere feel tense; your nerves setting in. As he nears, you’re bowing your head respecting his position.

As you rise, you catch your breath and hold it. The cold steel held tightly against your jaw is surprising in your blindness and you daren’t move from fear of cutting your skin. Goosebumps envelop your skin as your arousal soars. Your fight or flight mode kicks in as you hold yourself steady, feeling his hand supporting you, pressing gently and reassuringly against your back. You nervously swallow as the blade is slowly removed from your jaw.

“Close your eyes.”

The way Yoongi’s fingers raise the blindfold is contrasting to the way he’s played his role so far. They delicately curl under the cotton, lifting it away from your skin and then you hear it. The blade cutting the fabric, tearing it little by little before you feel its edge grazing slightly against your brow. It nicks your skin ever so slightly, you feel the sting turn to a delicious burn as the blood rushes to heal the surface.

Blindfold abandoned on the floor, you finally see him before you. Tongue cocked to the corner of his mouth and towering above you, eyeing you down as he decides what’s next. The blade glistening in the minimal light, reflecting shapes against the floor and your body. A single stream of blood rolls down your face following the contour of your eye, mimicking tears. You cast your vision to your cheek wanting to wipe the liquid away, but your hands are still bound.

He crouches before you, he’s so close you can smell his scent as he licks the pad of his thumb. His palm cups your jaw and you swoon into it, all while he wipes the single red tear away from your cheek. You meet eyes, his dark with lust brings to you blush and feeling shy suddenly, making you look away quickly. He tips his head quizzically before the blade meets your chin, resting neatly underneath as he uses it to tilt your head back to his gaze. 

You swallow reactively, the cold steel refreshing on your heated skin as you consider what’s next. A smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth, a cocky grin that makes him look all the more sinful.

“Aren’t you going to thank me?” he quizzes, a sting in his voice indicating you didn’t do as you were told.

“T-than... Thank you,” you whisper, your voice breaking in your efforts to speak. Your mouth dry, making you lick your bottom lip once more, shuddering in pleasure.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear right? What did you say?” The cocky bastard loves it when you’re like this. Completely succumb to him and his actions. It’s plastered all over his face. Tongue cocked to the corner of his mouth as the blade tilts your head higher, ensuring your eyes are on him once more. 

“Say it louder.”

You gather yourself and all the energy you can muster. Your mind a complete whirl as you cry,

“Thank you…My King.”

Read more on the Masterlist.

[demivampirew]

I would give up everything for you.

A Charles Brandon x Mary Tudor (written as reader) (Henry’s sister) one shot

You can find more of my writings in the Masterlist

Warnings: Death, heartbreak, crying, unwanted arranged marriage (and talking about being consummated).

Summary: Shortly after becoming a widow, Henry summons you back to England for he has arranged a new marriage for you.

A/N (Important to understand the story): For those who don’t know, in the show they’d merged both Henry’s sisters into one: Margaret. In reality, he had two sisters, the one mentioned who ended up marrying the King of Scotland, James IV, becoming the Queen consort of said country (and after the death of her husband, Queen regent in name of her son for two years). Mary, the other sister, was married to the King of France, Louis XII for a few months, until his death and soon he was succeeded by his son-in-law Francis I -the King of France from the show, and his daughter Claude as Queen Consort- she couldn’t reign for the law forbid a woman to rule the country back at that time. Shortly after the death of the King, Charles was in charge of bringing Mary safe back to England, but in reality that was a secret plan for them to marry in secret in France, as Mary confessed to King Francis. It isn’t known when and how exactly they fell in love but it surely was before her marriage to the late King of France. They married in secret but then they had a public wedding because they suspected Mary to be pregnant and they wanted their kid to be legitimate.

For my story, I mixed a bit of the show’s plot with actual events. The main characters are the same from the show, except from Mary, written from a perspective of reader, who wasn’t on the show (Margaret’s story in this one-shot is the same from history and not the one from the series). I used the arranged marriage with the King of Portugal’s plot from drama purposes (this never happened in reality, because like I’ve said, Mary married Charles before going back to London, and she had married the King of France with the promise that she would marry who she wanted after that or she would become a nun - which Henry did not want because he would lose the Dowager’s money if she did that. -although in this story she doesn’t threaten him with becoming a nun.)

Disclaimer: English isn’t my first language and write in another period of time can be a bit difficult. I tried my best, so I apologize if I made mistakes.

Tag list: @lunedelorient @henrythickcavill @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @mary-ann84 @desperate-and-broken @peakygroupie @summersong69 @ivvitm1109 @madbaddic7ed @iloveyouyen @the-soot-sprite @hell1129-blog @whyyoudothistomecavill @thetaoofzoe @thereisa8ella​

"The Queen of France, Your Majesty" announced one of the guards as you enter the room. Henry was sitting on the throne. There were a few guards there as well as Charles and William Compton, who were standing next to the door. - Dear sister! - your brother exclaimed as he stood up and approached you, grabbing your arms and placing a kiss on your cheek. - My poor sister, I'm terribly sorry for the lost of your dear husband.- "dear husband"? It felt as if he was mocking you, after all the only reason you married the late King of France, Louis XII was because he forced you to for that marriage forced an alliance between the two countries.

Being married to an old man was not a pretty thing. Being forced to consummate that marriage and with a crowd of people to witness it. Luckily, it didn't last for long because not long after your coronation as the new Queen, on Christmas' eve your husband died for an illness. After his death, his son-in-law, Francis I, inherit the throne with his daughter, Claude as Queen Consort. Even though your marriage was short, you were a loved Queen and you could have stayed in France if you desire it, but your brother had other plans for you. For you to agree to marry the late French King, he promised you that you were going to be able to marry whom you choose after his death, but sadly for you, he had no plans to keep his word. He ordered the Duke of Suffolk to escort you safely back to England. Charles was a loyal friend to Henry, but you succeeded to confess your brother's intentions for your return to England - you knew that if he wanted you back so quickly was not because he missed his beloved sister, but because there was something he needed from you. "He wants you to marry the King of Portugal" he confessed finally succumbing to pressure. After finding out that your worse nightmare was a reality, you ordered everyone on the ship to leave you alone and you cried on the way back.

- As sorry as I am for your loss, I must admit sister that I would need you to put aside your grief and take the King of Portugal as your new husband. With the rise of power of the Holy Roman Emperor, we need new alliances and he is more than pleased to become out ally if you marry him. He's seen your portrait and is enchanted by your beauty.- he informed you with a smirk. You remained silent and made no gestures. - So, my dear sister, would you consent to marry the King? - My consent is not needed, Your Majesty, for the King always does what he wants.- you finally said, your voice emotionless. There he was, your older brother. He could be charming for a moment and a second later be the devil himself if you crossed him. He didn't like when anyone defied him, especially women. His face showed no signs of rejoicing anymore, just contained anger. - We are at war, my dear sister.- he explained angrily. - We could face an invasion from Spain and if that would happen, we will need soldiers and money and he could provide that to us. - You are at war, brother. This is all because of you. If the Holy Roman Emperor is planning to attack England, it is because you broke your promise, like you always do, and set aside his aunt, humiliating her all. And that's because you had fallen in love with another woman. In your eyes, dear brother, you are the only one allowed to marry for love and you do not care who has to pay for your desires.- you replied bitterly. -If you want me to marry that old man, breaking the promise you once made me, at least you could have avoided me the displeasure of seeing your face and should have asked the Duke of Suffolk to escort me directly to Portugal since you know that no matter what are my choices, at the end I must be a loyal subject and obey you or I'll suffer the traitor's faith.

His hands were closed forming fists; he was containing his rage. If there was something Henry hated more than anything else was being defied. If it was not for the fact that he needed your Queen Dowager's money and the perks that your new marriage would bring to him, he would have you banned from court.

- Charles, take her to her chambers immediately.- he ordered and walked away, returning to his throne.

You bowed to him and allowed Charles to escort you back to your bedchambers. Once in the room, he closed the door to be sure no one would hear you speak.

- The Queen would be wise not to cross her brother.- he advised you. He spoke softly, surely it was because he did not want to be heard, but there was another thing in his voice: worry. - Why not?- you asked; it was a sarcastic question, you knew exactly why you should no speak to Henry that way for he was a King before your blood. - He could vanish you from court or worse.- he explained. - Great! I would rather be banned from court or dying to have to marry another old King.- you admitted, sighing bitterly. - You should not say that Your Majesty.- he pleaded. - Charles, would you stop calling me Your Majesty? I have known you my entire life. I'm still the same Mary I have always been, just less trusting and much more unhappy.- you confessed. - But now you are the King of France, Your Majesty. I should treat you with nothing but the proper respect. - I am Queen Dowager, I don't have the same importance that an actual queen has. - You are soon to be Queen again.- he reminded you and a tear fell from your eye; you wiped it away quickly. He stared at you with sadness on his eyes. He was probably hurt that you had to go through that again. - I rather die.- you repeated and look to the floor -You are lucky Charles, you could marry whom you choose.- you sighed. - I cannot.- he said with sadness. - Who is that you want and can't have, Charles? -you asked sarcastically.

The Duke of Suffolk looked you directly into your eyes, giving you the answer to your question without even saying a word.

Before leaving England, the two of you were close. He was this ladies' man and you were the King's little sister, but you started to see him differently in the year previous to your marriage. He was sweet, funny and protective. It was clear that you were not a just his friend's sister anymore, but a smart, funny and delightful woman. You had long talks while you played with carts and spent a lot of time together before your departure.

Charles excused himself and was about to leave. You called his name and when he turned to face you, you ran into his arms and kissed him. He pulled you closer to him as he stopped fighting his conscience. He probably felt that it was wrong, but he couldn't keep denying his feelings. After the long and awaited kiss, he pressed his forehead against yours and sighed.

- Escape with me.- you pleaded. - What? -he asked confused. - We could go to France. Francis is not a fan of my brother and he had nothing but sweet thoughts about me. He will be delighted to have me back there and surely he will support us and protect us if Henry decides to seek vengeance. - you assured him.- Please, Charles. - I... I cannot do that, I am sorry.- he said avoiding to look at you. - I will not betray my King. - Is it because he is your childhood friend or because you do not want to lose your lands and titles, Duke of Suffolk? - you questioned bitterly. He did not say a word, but it was not necessary; his shameful look said it all. Your poor heart broke into a million pieces. Not only you would have to marry an old man once more, but the man you loved preferred his nobility and money over you and your happiness. No matter what the future had set for you, it surely would not be a happy one.

A month passed before you were set to leave for Portugal. As you demanded, Charles stood away from you. The days passed and all you could do was crying about your cruel destiny. If at least you could have the luck that your sister Margaret had of marrying a young King whom she fell in love with, but no, that was not your fate. You were meant to be unhappy for the rest of your days.

Charles' eyes met yours. You could feel his pain but you could not be sorry for him, after all, he could have had you if he would have been brave enough to fight for you and, surely soon he would forget all about you and find solace in another woman's arms while you had to be with a man much older than you whom you didn't know. You quickly look to other side making sure he noticed that you were ignoring him and stood there, waiting in the room full of people for your brother to show up to say goodbye.

Henry appeared shortly with Cardinal Wolsey by his side. He approached you a kissed you " My dear sister. Fare you well on your journey. Remember the King of Portugal, your future husband, loves you and respects you. You must love him in return." - he said faking affection when in reality it was a command and a warning. He looked into your shiny, watery eyes but that didn't seem to have any effects on him. After crossing him the day of your return to England, he must be more than happy to see you gone.

The King was about to leave the place when the Duke of Suffolk called his attention.

- Your Majesty, I would like to have a word" - Charles pleaded. Henry looked at him with confusion but gestured him to speak. He walked a few steps forward and got on his knee in front of his best friend. - My heart forces me to beg you to save your sister from this marriage for that would make her unhappy.- he said firmly. There were gasps among the people present. You were breathless and your heart was beating an at exhilarating speed. Henry stared at him, his eyes showed both shock and anger. - As a sign of gratitude for your kindness towards the Queen of France, I will resign to my title, renounced to my lands and accept to be banned from court and any other punishment Your Grace sees suitable for my outrageous request.

For the first time since your mother's death, you saw tears fell from your brother's eyes. It didn't come as such as a surprise to you, you might be his sister by blood, but Charles was his brother by choice; they grew up together and he was his most faithful companion and now he put him in a position Henry must have surely hated. If he agreed to let you escape from this marriage, he would have to punish Charles from defying him in front of people from court. If he rejected his plead, people would know that he forced you into a marriage you didn't want to and he would further loss the affection of his subjects, who were already unhappy about his decision of leaving the beloved Queen Catherine for Anne Boleyn. Whatever decision Harry took, surely it would not have a happy ending for Charles. You knew you were right at the moment your brother stormed out of the room without saying a word.

Anthony Knivert, one of your brother's closest friends, walked you back to your chambers after Cardinal Wolsey ordered him to do so. The trip to Portugal has been postponed until after the King came with a resolution about the matter. As impossible as it seemed, you were even more heartbroken than before. There was no way Charles could cross your brother like that and no get punished and all because of your fault. If you just accepted your destiny quietly and had not made him feel guilty for choosing lands and his noble title over you, this would not have happened. Now, because of your stubbornness, he could face death.

It was around midnight when you heard someone knocking at your door. After permitting to enter your bedchambers, Charles walked in. You got up quickly from your bed and ran into him. He hugged you tightly for a moment and then softly pressed his head against yours. You could feel his warm breath. His hands grabbing your face provoked you chills. - Charles, you should not have done that.- you regretted. - I should have done it before, but it is ok. I would do it again if necessary.- he assured you and tears rolled down your cheeks. His thumbs clean the tears and then he kissed you. - You are not only the Queen Dowager of France but also the Queen of my heart, Mary.- he confessed. You smiled at him and your lips met his again.

After a knock, the door opened and Will Compton warned Charles to hurry for someone was coming. He kissed you once more and disappeared.

The King summoned you a few days after. There were some noble people present, Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk among others. Charles was already there waiting. About half an hour later Henry appeared with Wolsey and sat on the throne. He remained silent for a moment, as he inspected you. He knew; he knew his friend loved you and his love was reciprocated.

- Dear sister, I would like to apologize to you, for I did not know you were unhappy with the marriage proposal.- he said with conviction as if that would make it true- I desire nothing more than happiness for you, my beloved Mary. So I have decided that it should be you the one to decide who your future husband will be. You have my word and my blessing. Of course, he would make it seem as if you pact before marrying King Louis XII was his idea, but you did not care, as long as he granted you that you were not mad about him credit it to himself. - As for Your Grace.- he said looking at Charles- Your title and lands were given to you as a reward for bravely fighting by my side to defend your country and should remain at your disposal. Furthermore, as a sign of gratitude for enlightened me about my sister's displeasure for her now announced marriage, I would like to grant you my blessing to marry her, if that is her heart's desire and I hope you live the happy quiet life you desire away from court.

There it was, your punishment was being banned from court, but it was a slight price to pay for all the great things you had achieved. You were now allowed to marry Charles and live happily with him.

Maybe it was the fear that Henry would change his mind that made you marry that same day. In a private ceremony, with a few maids and his friends Will and Anthony to witness it, you promised to love each other forever.

You had the opportunity to have another wedding since you have not bled and you were sure with child, you had a public wedding to show the legitimacy of your future child. This time, you had it at court. Henry was a proud man, but even if Charles did what no other man would have dared unless they wanted to lose their heads, your brother loved him too much and trust no other like he trusted your husband.

Henry Brandon. That's the name Charles choose for your newborn. He was the living image of his father.

Not everything in your remaining life was happiness. Even though you had been blessed with another two children, Frances and Eleanor, by God's will your little Henry died when he was six years old. A year after that, another baby joined your family, honouring his late brother by carrying his name.

Charles was nothing but a loving husband to you. He stood by your side when tragedy hit your family and later when you got ill. You survived the sweating sickness but never fully recovered from it, and five years later you meet again with your loving son. It must have hurt your love, who never left your side until your heart stopped beating. He loved you much and would be sad for losing you, but you were glad he had your loving daughters and son to keep him company and help him move on.

[sweetestlamb]

Breakaway

Summary: Gang-Tae stops running from Mun-Yeong and finally runs away with her. Feelings are felt. Firsts are had. 

Author’s note: So, episode ripped my heart out, stepped on it with Mun-Yeong’s heels, backed up on with her car and then trampled it like the flowers Gang-Tae gave her . This is my escape from that reality and more possible heart crushing events tomorrow. I changed some events around, added some, just let my mind run wild. No smut this time (finally), Gang-Tae is so innocent and I couldn’t let her ravish him before their first kiss lol 

Just a heads up, Mun-Yeong will be pretty forceful in this and it might be triggering for some people, the shows always casts her advances as funny because we know Gang-Tae wants her too. But consent is always important for both parties, I don’t take that lightly. I am just trying to stay true to the characters we are shown. 

He has never punched anyone before. Not because he didn’t want to, he has wanted to hurt many others before. Viciously. To keep punching until they were a pulp on the ground. Bullies growing up, arrogant men who weigh their child’s worth on a scale, ignorant people who see a weak person and want to break them down. He has wanted to hurt others before, has felt the anger pulse through him and clot his blood, and then exhaled it all out watching it leave his body like a cold breath in the dead of winter. 

So why? Why couldn’t he abate his anger now. 

Watching her fall to the ground, shattered every wall and glass container he had surrounding his emotions. It is said when people lose themselves to anger, they see red. He hadn’t seen anything. Couldn’t hear, speak, breathe, suppress. The only thing he could do was hurt. Hurt him like he had hurt her. She was hardly a damsel and he was certainly no prince, but he wanted to protect her. Maybe could pass for a knight. His knuckles tingled remembering the sensation of the bones as they connected in the brutal collision. God, what have I done? 

“Where do you want to go? Europe is always good for travel. Or we could go somewhere warmer, Serengeti?” Mun-Yeong voice breaks the silence, brimming with as much excitement as he has ever heard from her. 

He smiles at the idea. Serengeti. There would be so many animals. Leave it to her to choose a location that others would shy from in fear. 

“I don’t have a passport.” He replies, mild shame in his tone. He told her before he has never traveled before, the constant moving doesn’t count because those aren’t pleasurable, just necessary for survival. He has never been somewhere because he wanted to go, much less gone somewhere with someone he...cares for. He turns to look at her profile, spellbound as she replies. Her skin is blemish-free, pristine and soft- her injured cheek had been hot to the touch, but he couldn’t ignore how creamy it felt under his palm. He could touch her for a million years and never grow weary.  What was it about her that called out to every cell in his body? 

“Then where can we go?” She responds impatient as always, glancing over at him with heated eyes as if daring him. Her lips push out in a slight pout and he watches them avidly. Hungrily. Terrified. 

“Let’s go to the mountains and the field.” He replies, hands trembling because without his leash he doesn’t know how to act. It feels like a piece of him has been melted away. His body an open wound. 

She turns and smiles at him, his heart flutters at the sweetness of it. 

The air is crisp, he feels all the moisture evaporate from his mouth and instinctively his tongue laps out to swipe across his parched lips.  His step onto the bridge, making his heart beat quicken in both trepidation and exuberance, all his worries fall through the cracks in the bridge and he feels weightless. His second step brings a smile to his face and looks over to see Mun-Yeong, only she’s not beside him. 

He turns around and sees an emotion on her face he has never seen before. 

“Let’s go.” He encourages her with a blinding smile. 

“No.” Her entire body shakes in refusal as well and he tilts his head curiously, “Why not?” He can’t think of any reason she wouldn’t want to do this. She is fearless. 

“I’m scared.” Breathless laughter bursts from his chest at the ridiculous idea. This is the same Mun-Yeong who approached a man intending to take his life and that of his daughter, he still has a souvenir from that day. He glances fondly down at the scar on his hand. Jae-Su’s disapproving face momentarily flashes in his mind, furthering his laugh. 

“Why are you laughing? It’s not funny!” Mun-Yeong berates him, stomping with her more practical shoes which he still thinks are too fancy but they were the best he could convince to wear. Her armor. 

“I can’t do this with Sang-Tae so I wanted to do it with you. “ He cuts his laughter with he realizes the slight shake in her petite body is not from the mountain air. 

He watches his words take an unexpected effect on her. Her dark eyes find his and he can’t look away, the fear in hers twists and turns, wrapping armor around itself. “Okay, I will do it with you.” She takes a shaky step onto the bridge, reaching for the railing with white-knuckled fists.

 He smiles fondly at her determination. Is she doing this for me? 

Then in true Mun-Yeong fashion she demands loudly, “Hey, carry me. Give me a piggyback ride!” He laughs again, turning around and quickening his speed. Happy at the chance to tease her for once.  He hears her protesting behind him only further fueling his joy, one foot in front of the other and soon he realizes he is steps away from the end. 

He stops. Her words echo in his mind, “Okay, I will do it with you.” It doesn’t feel right to do this without her beside him. He turns back and sees her slowly, still crossing despite her obvious fear. Then she starts to sing, “If I ever feel lonely..” and he runs back to get her. 

She doesn’t notice his presence until she almost walks into his chest. She looks up in surprise. “Why did you come back?” She asks genuinely confused, he isn’t the only one not used to others doing things for him. “I want to do it with you.”

He extends his hand for the second time that day. She hesitates again. Looking at him like he’s a dream that could vanish at any point. Then she grabs onto his hand, he winces at the strength of her hold. 

“Hey, don’t hold so tightly!”

“Shut up, if you let go I’ll kill you.” 

“Are you ready?” They are so close that their shoulders are brushing. Her warmth seeps into him. 

“Yes.” Subconsciously her head shakes no. He is reminded of all the times he has told her no when his body was screaming yes. 

She takes the first step this time and they are off, she complains about the shakiness of the bridge and squeezes his hand in annoyance when he mentions the apt name of the bridge. He can’t help but smile has they cross at the bridge at a much more lethargic pace than his own dash. His strong, fearless Mun-Yeong undone by a bridge. 

No, not undone. Paused. Despite her apparent terror, she is doing it anyway because of him. When they reach the end, she turns to him and her triumphant smile is illuminating. Her red-stained lips are wide and inviting. He blushes recalling their almost kiss back at the castle. he can’t deny it, he wanted that kiss like it was air in his lungs. The way her eyes had widened in shock, made him falter for a second, before he pressed on, leaning down to join their hungry lips. Until the blood curdling sound of some unknown creature had broken the moment.

He ran away and she let him. 

“I did it.” Her breathless words reach his ears and he turns to look at her again, reaching his hand out settling it on her soft, dark head. With a barely there touch, he strokes her head before saying “You were so brave, you’re amazing.” 

She smile is supernova bright. 

No one has ever taken photos of him before and her requests throws him off kilter, he hasn’t felt his uncomfortable in his body in a long time. Not since he was young, growing into this body, with long limbs and muscles that he didn’t want because they attracted too much attention. He feels all that and more as she repeats sternly, “Smile. Don’t cry.” 

He can’t tell the difference. For so long, the emotions he would let others see weren’t the ones he was feeling. Now he is actually happy, happier than he imagined and his face doesn’t know how to show that. He starts to stand dismissing the needs for a picture, before she drags him back to the bench, “If you’re embarrassed I’ll do it with you.” Her smiling face is mirrored in the phone and he feels the restrain falling again, their heads tilt in, matching authentic smiles on their faces. 

“Make that your background.” She demands and he snatches his phone before she can do just that, he doesn’t know if he has enough control to see that picture everyday without asking her to run away with him for good. 

She giggles and walks ahead of him, looking over her shoulder and he is blown by her beauty. Even in her most comfortable clothes, she stands out. Despite her small stature, she seems to take up all the space in any room she’s in. He can barely take his eyes off her. 

“What are you looking at?” 

He doesn’t trust himself to answer that. 

“Are you still hungry?” 

Despite his refusal, they end up at guesthouse. Her eyes had been wild as she drove the car toward the edge of a cliff, this was the second time she had threatened him with a imminent death. He wonders what it says about him that his only response is a chuckle and head nod. Who is really the crazy one here? 

Stay the night with me or die here! Those were his only two options. 

She was so impulsive when she felt wronged. But.  He had asked her to run away with him, he had started all this and he didn’t want to stop it just yet. So he had called Sang-Tae and told him he would see him in the morning and to call him if he needed anything. 

Now, he sat drinking the juice provided by the keeper. It was delicious, he felt his cheeks heating up and vaguely wondered why that was happening? Mun-Yeong was on her third cup and swaying onto his shoulder. Her hair had slipped from the neat ponytail and brushed him every time she leaned ever too close. Each inhale came with the scent of her hair, a faintly floral scent filled his lungs. 

“Your hair smells nice.” He mused aloud, turning his head and placing his nose directly above her fragrant head. 

She moved closer and looped her arms through his, leaning closer and he watched as her face gradually moved closer, and closer, dangerously close to his face, so close that they were sharing a breath and he knew that he should move back but he felt frozen in place. Just like when he fell into the frozen river and she saved him. 

He watched her enticing lips with wavering eyes, stuck between watching her lips and watching her eyes, they were both singing the same siren’s song, as she finally reached her destination and- 

Booped their noses together in a perfect Eskimo kiss. 

“Your face is so red.” She teased bringing a hand up to palm his lust-stained cheeks and he fell off the table in his haste to escape her spell. 

Her giggles filled the the air as he sat flushed on the ground. 

He was drunk and he had no idea how. Was the juice the keeper gave them more than just juice? He glanced over at Mun-Yeong to see how it had affected her, if at all. Her face was flushed as well and she laying flat on her back, soft eyes looking at the ceiling. 

“Let’s have fun.” She suddenly said rolling to him and clinging to his arm even as he pushed her away, not sure if being drunk together was a good idea. When he found himself looking at her moving lips and not hearing anything she was saying, he knew it was a terrible idea. Had he hit his head? Why did he keep making these decisions? 

“- do you want to play?” She finished her question looking up at him from under her lashes, beckoning him to answer affirmatively. He almost did, without asking her what she had asked. He stopped himself knowing how dangerous the game they were playing was, his defenses were compromised by his current situation and she looked even bolder now, not needing any more courage- liquid or otherwise. Grabbing onto logic, he asked her to repeat her question. 

“Let’s play truth or dare?” 

“Why would you want to play that?” He was suspicious. He couldn’t even begin to fathom what kind of dares she would could come up with. He had to say no to stop them from crossing a line that they couldn’t come back from. 

She sat silently, letting go of his arm and wrapping her arms around herself and seeming to war with herself, a plethora of emotions swimming in those dark haunting eyes. She got up and suddenly started to leave their room, he instinctively reached out to catch her arm, stopping her. 

“Let go of me.”

“No, answer my question.”

He could see her feathers ruffling and she looked at him with passive eyes, before she quietly answered, “I have never had anyone to play with it before.” 

Her arm dropped out of his grasp and his eyes widen at her confession and a wave of sadness and anger washed over him, thinking of a young Mun-Yeong with no one to play with. Not one friend. He was eternally grateful for Jae-Su and he couldn't imagine his life without his one friend. How lonely it must have been to be feared all the time, to watch others build bonds and never have that for yourself. 

Okay. I will do it with you. 

Her word from earlier whisper  in his head and he pushed his own fear aside and did something just for her. 

“Okay, let’s play.” 

He instantly regrets it when he sees the salacious smile that spreads on her lips. He swallows nervously. 

“I dare you to-” She begins and he cuts her off, “You’re supposed to ask me truth or dare.” She looks at him with disdain, “No I don’t care about truths, let’s just do dares.” He rolls his eyes, knowing she probably figured out that he would simply pick truth every round. 

“No we have to do it right, since it’s your first time doing it.” He doesn’t know that those words take life in her head until she gives up way too easily and with an scarily innocent smile, she asks “Truth or dare.” 

“Truth.” 

“Have you ever slept with a woman?” 

Red blazes across his already drunk-stained cheeks and he looks away from her imploring eyes. The last time she asked him that he drenched a table and now he thinks he might pass out. He hopes he hits his head and puts himself out of his misery if he does. 

“If you don’t want to answer my question, then you can do a dare.” She smiles mischievously knowing she has corned him into a tight spot. 

He almost ends the game right then and there, why does she always trample on his comfort level like this? it’s not that he doesn’t have desires, god does he have them. He wants so much. All the time. But he can’t have anything, everything fades and they have to keep moving like the wind. 

Tentative steps on a shaky bridge. Deadly tight grip on the railing. Her triumph at the end of it all. 

With his last bit of bravery he opens his mouth and it takes a few tries to get the words out. His lips open and close mimicking that of a fish, before he finally shoves the word out through clenched teeth, “No.” 

Her responding smile is obscene, “I want it.” and he blinks in confusion before he follows the line of her eyes, squarely centered on his crotch. He backs up until his body meets the wall, bringing his legs up and wrapping his arms around them. 

“You look like a school girl protecting her chastity.” She laughs and crawls over to meet him, pressing his legs open, and he bolts to the other side of the room. She smirks and licks her lips, looking every much like the predator he knows she is. Before she can seductively crawl to meet him again, he screams out “Stop! It’s my turn.” And she pauses mid crawl, eyes and hair wild, looking like a wildcat that has spotted its next meal and he briefly thinks she brought the Serengeti to him. 

She sits back in a huff. A beautiful flush across her face.  He has no truth or dare in mind, her question and behavior after had thrown him off again. 

“Truth or dare?”

No hesitation, “Dare.” 

Of course. She’s fearless where it counts. She looks at him with curious eyes, fingers tapping impatiently. 

“I dare you to......not touch me all night.” 

“What?” If looks could kill, he would be six feet under. Maybe deeper. Despite them running away, he can’t have too. How will be go back after today if he becomes too greedy?

“Does it go both ways? You can’t touch me and I can’t touch you?” She looks....calculating but he nods in agreement. He has no plans to touch her tonight. He is too weak already. 

She smiles. Then stands up and walks out the door. Slamming it behind her, He jumps at the sound. He watches her leave and disappointment is thick on his tongue, he knows she’s upset. He doesn’t know how to give them both what they want and he feels like a failure. How can he touch her and stop himself from falling even deeper and wanting more? 

It doesn’t seem possible and his heart breaks a little. 

The sound of the door sliding open once more drags him back from his melancholy and he lifts his eyes up from the floor to see Mun-Yeong. 

A soaking wet Mun-Yeong. 

Dripping on the floor, her shirt is plastered to her lithe body, sticking to all the contours of her body. When his eyes shirt lower, her pants are missing. Her shirt stops mid-thigh, showing off an excess of her smooth skin. Droplets from her hair fall onto the ground, one drop makes a journey down her cheek, past her neck and disappearing into her shirt. 

“Ko Mun-Yeong!” He exclaims willing his body to turn around and stop looking at her drenched body. But his eyes flint all over, from her wet- puffy lips to her naked toes, stopping on her chest and he sees twins peaks peeking through the shirt and that makes him turn away finally. He feels all the blood in his body rush southward. 

“You said I couldn’t touch you all night. I needed to cool off, I’m horny. ” She responds and he can hear the shrug and challenge in her voice and he croaks out, “Okay I think that’s enough of this game.” 

Once again, she gives in easily. Not protesting at all. And he turns around, intending to dive under his blankets and pull them up to his face and hide from her tempting body. Instead she causes him to freeze again. She is unbuttoning her wet shirt and the room is dark but he can see enough, too much and he lunges at her to stop those nimble fingers. 

She tsks at him looking at him like a disapproving parent, “You aren’t allowed to touch me all night Gang-Tae. Remember it was your dare.” 

Fucking hell.  His fingers stop inches from her. 

She opens another button and he spins around once more. “Mun-Yeong please stop. The game is over.” He pleads. 

“Oh. Does that mean I can touch you again?” She counters. He can’t agree with that, she is undressing behind him if he allows her to touch him, it will be bad. 

She takes his silence as answer and her wet shirt lands on his shoulder. He jumps before throwing the shirt to side. He is buzzing when her bra lands next to it and then her panties. What if he gets a nosebleed and just chokes in his own blood?  ARRGGGGGGHHHHH. He screams like the creature that interrupted them internally, wishing the damn thing would show up and kick him to death. Put him out of his misery. 

“Mun-Yeong please put your clothes back on.” He is not ashamed to say he begs her, if he could he would get down on his knees too. 

On his knees within her milky thighs, her hand on his head, patting and prodding as she guided him to her- 

“I am comfortable naked I told you earlier.” She calmly responds before he hears movement and then the rustling of her sheets, does this mean she’s finally going to bed? 

He spares a small peek and catches a glimpse of her nude body before she slides under the sheets and his arousal hits him like a freight train. Beautiful. 

When he finally turns around, he sees what the movement was. She has moved their bedding closer together, impossibly close now. 

He can’t do this. Can’t be this near her naked body. Only a sheet separates them. 

He moves to leave the room and she stands with it and her sheets start to fall, he snatches them with superhuman speed wrapping them firmly around her warm body, pulling her flushed against his overexcited body. 

“You broke the rules.” He feels her start to reach for him and he swaddles her tighter, yanking their bodies to the floor and pinning her down. She lets out a puff of air and in a surprise move, goes for his lips and he turns his face in time that she lands on his cheek. 

“Please. Please. Just go to sleep.”

He stares her down, pulling the sheets around her tighter still and hating that he can fee her warmth even through them. There is only a sheet separating them. 

“Just go to sleep. Please” She stops squirming in his hold, finally. “Okay I will go to sleep. But I know you want this as badly as I do.” She proves her point by grinding up into his erection, and he jolts away, the pleasure too immense for his depraved body. 

He huddles, willing it to go away, please, please, please. 

He doesn’t know how much times goes by, before he can feel his excitement alleviate. Years of ignoring them as made him a pro at suppressing his desire. 

When he turns Mun-Yeong is fast asleep, sheet low on her body but covering everything thankfully. He takes his time to look at her, peaceful in her sleep. Someone who didn’t know her might even say she looked..innocent. But all her shenanigans tonight prove otherwise. She is a demon, sent here to make him sin. 

He sits up and looks down at her. So brave and bold.  He’s glad to escape her all-seeing eyes, too perceptive for her own good. She is right, he wants her. More than he has wanted anything. Surely, he can’t have her though, right? 

But, he’s so happy with her. She makes him so happy, even when she’s threatening to drive them off a cliff or using her body as a weapon of mass seduction. He likes her. And he tried everything not to. Why couldn’t she just give up like everyone else did?

I have so much fun with her. 

He thinks before he finally snuggles down, into a fitful sleeps. His eyes on Mun-Yeong and Mun-Yeong alone. 

Her smile when he hands her the flowers makes everything he has faced in life worth it. All worth it to have this moment with her. 

Holding her in the rain, tentative fingers drawing her close. 

Her fingers clutching to him as she cursed and thrashed away from him. 

Cupping her cheek and feeling the anger evaporate and worry take its place. 

Her feet trampling on the flowers he picked for her, all those years ago. 

Running to her. 

He leans forward, knowing now he has no control.

She appeared when he needed her. Isn’t that fate?  

Their lips meet, warm press of skin against skin. Almost innocent in nature, he needs to work up to more. 

“That was sweet.” She sounds genuine and she caresses his cheek before curling her hands around his neck and dragging him closer, he releases a puff of air but doesn’t resist. 

“Next time, I pick where we go and I’ll kiss you. I have a lot to teach you.”

He’s ready to learn. 

[justasparkwritings]

Codename Cupid: Chapter 14

Previous: Justifying Jimin

Pairing: Kim Taehyung X OFC

Genre: Angst, Secret AgentAU, AgentAU, Government Agent AU

Rating: PG17

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Non-Consensual Sex, Mentions of Rape, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recover, Rape Culture

Summary: Codename V and Codename Cupid begin their courtship, which ends rather quickly when Cupid crosses a line. 

TRIGGER WARNING: There is conversation regarding rape in this chapter. It does not glamorize, but does give modest details. 

PLEASE SKIP IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO READ 

Codename: Love Reimagined

Fall, One Year Post Grad

           Lee Euna met Kim Taehyung on a Wednesday. Both were attending a gallery opening, Taehyung as a friend of the artist, Euna as an investor. He knew the minute she walked into the gallery, the way her pearls glistened in the carefully planned lighting, her midnight locks curled to delicate tendrils cascading down her back. There were many adjectives to describe Lee Euna, and as a woman nearing the top of the largest company in the world, the one that was most often negated was beautiful. Lee Euna, a stunner, a total package, brilliant, kind, gorgeous. Taehyung could understand the draw to her, her demeanor was congenial, but her eyes were daring. They spoke when her lips didn’t, they saw what others tried to hide, they observed and recorded so that she could strike. To an untrained eye, in combination with the way tabloids depicted her, Euna wasn’t a threat.

           But Taehyung knew different.

           Armed with the knowledge of her last two relationships, Taehyung approached confidently.

           “The use of yellow is a fascinating commentary, don’t you think?” Taehyung asked.

           “Mm, I’m more intrigued by the abject use of black as negative space, particularly as it moves throughout the series, blurring ever so slightly with each piece,” Euna told him, eyes trained on the image in front of them.

           “Until you get to the end, completely white,” Taehyung finished.

           “You know the artist?” She asked him.

           “I do, and you?” He smiled brightly at her.

           “Let’s just say I have a piece in mind,” She smirked gently.

           “I’m Taehyung,”

           “Euna,”

           “It’s nice to meet you. May I walk with you to the next piece?” Taehyung asked, a gently smile dancing across his lips, the anticipation of understanding Cupid further, of getting to see the sides of her Codename Suga and Mr. Handsome, got to see. It was always exciting, he thought, getting to know a new mark, exploring the dynamics, flirting with the soon to be blurred lines. Ever the extrovert, he thrived when he was taken off surveillance and placed in the field, even when he ran missions on the ground, following marks, urging them in certain directions or to locations, the threat of being caught was high, and he loved it. Standing next to Cupid, waiting patiently for her response, he felt that first inkling of danger, of mystique, of upholding the narrative Namjoon had constructed for him.

           “That would be lovely,” Cupid smiled before turning to walk towards the next piece.

~~~~~

           Taehyung courted Cupid for the next few weeks, before she took him to dinner and into her bed. From there, it was a blur of museum openings, concerts, gala’s and drinks with friends. From the jump, Cupid was 100% in. She was immediately falling for Taehyung, making plans for their future, and bulldozing boundaries like traffic cones in drivers ed. Tired of being hurt, jaded from heartbreak, Cupid was already swimming in the deep end while he tiptoed in. Getting him to her side, though, proved difficult and frustrating. Taehyung tried to resist, to persistently put up new and more transparent boundaries, but they always seemed like a suggestion to Cupid. He allowed it to go on for a few months, until it became alarmingly clear that this was not acceptable, and she was going to move forward without asking him if it was okay.

           Taehyung scheduled a meeting with Namjoon, in the privacy of his fully walled office, and sulked in. The nerves at an all-time high, the panic he felt, the sickness in his stomach, the low taste of bile in his throat, loomed large over him.

           “Something’s not right,” Taehyung said to Namjoon. He sat opposite his brother on the couch Namjoon kept in his office for late night missions, or nights when he didn’t want to drive home.

           “Meaning?” Namjoon asked, confusion laced in his bespectacled eyes.

           “I think it’s getting out of hand,” Taehyung sat with his hands in his lap, eyes downcast as the tears began to fall. He’d shown minimal distress throughout their team meetings but was spending less and less free time in the office. A sign, that both Yoongi and Seokjin took to mean he was with Cupid, though transcripts weren’t showing up.

           Gently placing a hand on his forearm, Namjoon asked, “Tae, what’s wrong?”

           “I can’t do this, with Cupid,” He whispered.

           “What’s happened?” Namjoon asked, unsure where this was going.

           “She, she’s trying to get pregnant, Yoongi was right, she’s obsessed with it,” Taehyung inhaled slowly, rickety breaths leaving his quivering lips.

           “By you?” Namjoon was confused, it hadn’t been long enough for her to start making these claims, they’d only been seeing each other for a handful of months. Was she deviating from the pattern?

           “Yes,” Taehyung let out the sob he’d been trying and failing to hold. Namjoon had seen the man cry, in their years together, he’d seen everyone cry. They’d lost a mark, years ago, and Taehyung had just been a trainee. The man, in touch with his emotions and often lost in thought, took his job seriously, and worked diligently to do his best at all times. This, whatever was happening between Cupid and him, was abnormal.

           “Taehyung, what is she doing?” Namjoon’s voice was measured, gentle in tone and volume, deep resonance embracing Taehyung in support, in love, in familiarity, in understanding.

           “She’s scraping out condoms, not letting me pull out, and I’ve torn condoms before because there’s holes in them. Holes, Joon, I’ve found them in the wrapper!” Taehyung was shaking, tears still streaming from his emotive eyes.

           “Does she think you don’t know?”

           “I don’t know. She doesn’t care or she thinks I don’t care, or -

           “Is this nonconsensual?” Namjoon asked.

           A simple question, a measurement of balance of power, of two adults mutually agreeing on a set activity, of a designated maneuver, of an act, together, one not moving forward without the other, in tandem. Do you consent to this, or do you not?

           “Absolutely not. She has never asked, nor have I given any form of consent. I have actively tried to stop her, I have actively tried to not engage with her, I have said no and stop. She doesn’t.” The sobs return, shaking his entire body.

           Namjoon wrapped an arm around Taehyung and pulled him into his side. Taehyung didn’t need to look at Namjoon to know how incensed he was, how furious he was, how heartbroken and disgusted and devastated, he was. He felt it in the bear like hold he had over him, he heard it in his voice as he spoke again.

           “Your mission with Cupid is terminated immediately, get your phone, you will end your relationship right here and now.”

           “Will that ruin the plan?” Taehyung whispered.

           “What’s the number one rule?” Namjoon countered.

           “Our safety, and our emotional and physical health are more important than a mark or mission,” Taehyung didn’t need to think, it was written on his heart, he’d just hoped he’d never have to evoke it.

           “Exactly. Do you want to use your time off? I suggest you do, take a few days. Do you need to go back to your therapist, Dr. Aarons?” Namjoon rattled off the necessary measures Taehyung could take, knowing he would force him to rest and ease back into work.

           Nodding solemnly, Taehyung’s voice was a whisper. “Yeah, that might be a good place to start. I’m sorry,”

           “Sorry for what?” Namjoon shook his head, confusion in his tone.

           “For, I don’t know, disappointing the team.” Taehyung glanced up at Joon for the first time.

           “Taehyung, when have you ever disappointed the team?” Namjoon’s question was rhetorical. “You are risking yourself for a mission and it’s not worth it. She’s engaging in dangerous, illegal, immoral behavior. You have to look out for your personhood. I am so sorry that she has done this, and that you feel like you need to apologize to me at all. You are not at fault. I am only disappointed that when I noticed you pulling away, I didn’t seek you out to ensure you were okay. I am sorry for not doing my part as your leader.”

           Taehyung held Namjoon as they let the words float between them, Taehyung breathing them in as Namjoon’s softened gaze continued to hold him.

           “Thank you,” Taehyung whispered.

           “Do you want me to accompany you and Golden Maknae when you break up with her?” Namjoon stood up, stretching before sitting down at his desk.

           “Can’t I just ghost her?” Taehyung was surprised by the suggestion of doing this in person.

           Namjoon looked at him, realizing the suggestion he’d made. “Aren’t you past that point in your relationship?”

           “I don’t know, it’s only been four months?” Taehyung stood.

           “Four months and she already wants to procreate?” Namjoon was stunned again, nothing about Cupid predicted this. It wasn’t a pattern of behavior, but a hint at one, nothing had come to fruition and he wasn’t going to put another man on Cupid detail ever again.

           “You’ve seen my jaw,” Taehyung smirks.

           “Text her, don’t call, we know how that went for Yoongi,”

           “Can I do it in here?” He asks.

           “Conference room? I need to brief the team,”

           “Okay,”

           “You don’t have to stay. Once you break up with her, you can go home, Tae. You don’t need to stay for this at all, you aren’t required to,” Namjoon stood from his desk and guided Taehyung out of his office to the conference room.

           “I’ll stay,” Tae nodded, using the sleeve of his cardigan to blot his tears.

           “You do not to explain to them what happened,” Namjoon informed him.

           “I know,” Tae nodded again.

           “What’s up?” Hoseok asked sitting down at the conference table. He’d yet to finish his project, recreating a few false documents for Jimin.

           “Yeah, we’re having a full meeting at 3PM? Isn’t it almost quitting time?” Yoongi wondered as he twirled in his chair.

           “One step closer to Friday,” Seokjin reminded him.

           “We have an update on Codename, Hoseok, what did you name V’s mission?” Namjoon said, stuffing his hands in his suit pants.

           “Love Reimagined,” Answered Hoseok.

           “One of your shorter titles,” Yoongi quipped.

           “What was Yoongi’s?” Jimin asked.

           “Codename: Another Shot at Love,” Hoseok was proud of himself, beyond proud. He took great care to name each mission or task, ensuring it was fitting and catchy. He was waiting for their final mission on this case, a chance to reference one of his favorite Netflix Originals.

           “And Jimin’s?” Yoongi added.

           “The ongoing, Codename: The Mochi of it All,” Hoseok beamed.

           "What was mine?" Seokjin wondered.

           "Codename: The First Heartbreak," Hoseok couldn't stop smiling.

           “Why must you take the time to give such long names?” Seokjin laughed.

           “It’s part of my flair,” Hoseok giggled.

           “Alright, Codename: Love Reimagined is hereby closed, finished, completed.” Namjoon said redirecting the men. They all turned to face him, confusion and shock on their faces. This wasn’t the plan.

           “Really?” Hoseok asked.

           “Why?” Yoongi followed.

           “How come?” Seokjin rounded out the men.

           “It’s cancelled,” Namjoon’s voice was firm, a means to end the conversation.

           “Taehyung, are you okay?” Jimin asked. The two men shared an apartment, and Jimin had noticed on more than one occasion Taehyung retreating into himself. He felt it too, the absence of his best friend, his partner in work and in friendship, no longer wanting to spend time together like they always did. He hadn’t checked in as much as he wanted, his own mission filling his time as the relationship progressed consistently. Jimin spent time twirling his engagement ring on his finger, embarrassed by how much he liked the medal on his skin, the small encrusted diamonds twinkling in the light.  

           “No, I’m not okay,” Taehyung could always meet Jimin’s gaze, his hurt brown irises inked with tears told Jimin it was far worse than he realized.

           “You don’t have to tell us,” Yoongi said. “But if you do, I guarantee we’ll fuck them up.”            “Codename Cupid took advantage of me, more than once, in a sexual manner,” Taehyung pushed the words out of his mouth, the burden leaving his shoulders as he leaned into the comfort of his friends.

           “Are you fucking serious?” Yoongi yelled.

           “No, no,” Jimin shook his head, the tears already forming.

           “Tae,” Jin whispered.

           “You, are you, oh my god,” Hoseok couldn’t comprehend the words coming out of Taehyung’s mouth.

           “I’m done, cancel my mission,” Jimin declared.

           “We can’t cancel your mission,” Namjoon said.

           “Why not?” Jimin demanded, eyes on fire.

           “What good does that serve us?” Countered Namjoon.

           “I, you expect me to date this guy, be engaged to him, when his sister raped one of us? Are you fucking with me?” Jimin yelled again, standing to slam his hands against the table. Taehyung winced, not only at the volume, but because he hadn’t used the word yet, hadn’t thought it applied to what had happened to him… but maybe, it did.

           “I expect you to complete your mission as directed unless Codename Arrow is endangering your life,” Namjoon repeated.

           “I won’t,” Jimin said.

           “You will, you have what, three weeks left?” Namjoon asked.

           “The engagement party is December 21,” Jimin said.

           “Alright, it’s almost Thanksgiving. You just gotta make it until then,” Yoongi offered, a shrug of his shoulders. In Jimin’s place, he would absolutely end things with Arrow, but they needed the last set of Christmas bonus checks and the final 2020 financial reports, both of which wouldn’t populate on Arrow or Cupid’s computers until mid-December.

           “She abused him,” Jimin whispered, the tears falling down his cheeks.

           “Jiminie has a point,” Hoseok muttered.

           “We cannot let this slide,” Seokjin said. “I never thought, I never thought she’d do this.”

           “We will have justice when we bring them down,” Namjoon reminded them, his words hollow in the moment of their pain.

           “Do we have evidence of the, of the, fuck, I can’t say it,” Yoongi shook his head, the words stuck on his tongue.

           “You don’t have to say it,” Taehyung’s voice was raw, emotions bare. “I’ve documented what I can, bagged things, written a detailed report… I used one of Hobi’s forged Police Reports to document what I knew they’d ask and took pictures to accompany it. The evidence is sealed in my office.”

           Lifting his head to look at him, Yoongi asked, “Taehyung, how long have you been sitting on this?”

           “Not too long, a couple of weeks,” Taehyung shrugged. It had only happened three times, which is three times too many, and three times it shouldn’t have. He had been shocked the first time, unsure what had truly happened to him. The second time, she used a different tactic, and he knew what it was. The third time caught him off guard, unawares. He was embarrassed that he let it happened, mortified that he put himself in this situation, and angry that he was so mad at himself instead of being outraged, furious, loathing, towards her.

           “Tae,” Jimin said again.

           “We need to write an official report so we can put this into our official filing,” Namjoon’s voice had simmered, its resolute calm returning.

           “Not tonight,” Seokjin said, a reminder that Taehyung was still reeling from the trauma.

           “Have you broken up with her?” Yoongi asked Taehyung.

           “I texted when we sat down,” Taehyung fished his phone out of his pocket. “She responded.”

           “Do you want to read it out loud?” Namjoon questioned.

           “Hobi’s just going to send us a memo of it anyway,” Yoongi shrugged, his heart weighing down his entire body. “After this, can we call it a day?”

           “Absolutely,” Namjoon agreed. “Taehyung, you want to read it?”

           “It says,” He scanned the message, eyebrows shooting towards his hairline, jaw slacking as he reread the message. “She says, she says she’s pregnant.”

Next: How Cricket Got Her Name

[live-long-and-time-warp]

It’s hard to leave your toxic friends... but it’s so worth it

I don’t normally do this, but as I sat in a Saturday morning meeting thinking about all of the things I felt this past Friday, I felt compelled to share my story.

A brief background: throughout college and for several years afterward, I considered my tight-knit group of college friends as some of my closest. In addition to my best friend of 20 years, some friends from high school, my work team, and some other dear friends scattered across the globe and throughout the U.S., this group of college friends was who I considered to be my foundation. This group of friends was extremely important to me, but it was not without its bumps in the road.

In my senior year of college, I had a falling out with one of these friends, the ringleader I’ll call her. I say this because she is quite honestly the source of 95% of my problems with this group. She is a master manipulator, and an expert gaslighter. There were a few others that contributed to this too, but she was by far the worst.

I can’t elaborate on every single thing that this person said and did over our 7 year “friendship” but a brief summary would be: asking me point blank if I thought I might be a lesbian after coming out as bi (to this friend group and in her presence, I might add) only several months prior; asking me how much money I spend on books about “Chernobyl” every month with the implication that she’s concerned about my finances; telling me that my resume may not be as impressive as I think it is (I’m the deputy director of a nonprofit with both state-based and national projects and had been for close to a year prior to this conversation); would clean up the crumbs from in front of me while I was still eating and comment on my messiness; told me that one of our mutual friends doesn’t like discussing politics with me because I get too fired up (again, I work for a nonprofit that deals with social justice); telling me that crying while comforting my friend who had just lost a loved one to suicide after they began crying was weird and that I “stole her thunder” (we were slightly drunk, I’m an empath, and she was talking about some deeply personal things that moved me and crying was my natural response... and oddly, she was appreciative of my tears because I was “the only person that actually stayed with her”); and so much more that I know I’m forgetting.

There were many other things more insidious, including gaslighting me about my inclusion in several group activities and why it should have been obvious why one friend disliked me enough to not invite me to her wedding after years of claiming cluelessness.

In our senior year, I left that friend for the first time after she humiliated me at a party by commenting loudly and with condescension on my weight. When I cut ties with her, I felt as if I had just left an abusive relationship, and for a while I didn’t want to seek a friendship with her again.

But the other friends in our group still hung out with both of us, so eventually I allowed myself to be sucked back in. 

In the years after we graduated, I thought that this person had actually changed- I worked abroad for a year after college, and after returning I saw a marked difference in her demeanor and how she interacted with us. She seemed more self-aware of how her words and actions adversely affected other people, and I thought that maybe the ugliness of that horrible portion of my senior year was now just a faded scar.

But then things escalated very quickly. Over the course of several weeks at the beginning of this year, I started to feel myself questioning whether I had made the right choice in rejoining the group: I was so sure of how I felt after I left it the first time, I felt so empowered and free. So why did I allow myself to rejoin them? Was it really the right choice?

I got my answer a week after the insurrection at the Capitol. One friend who already had a history of saying hateful things about women (which I tried to put a stop to to no avail) finally went full white supremacist asshole, and instead of joining me in calling his comments unacceptable and defending me as he mansplained my job to me, the ringleader criticized me and told me that “I can work in activism and politics and be wrong”.

That’s the moment I finally woke up.

I left the chat that very moment. Every time they added me back without my consent, I left again.

Every time I got message from the ringleader that was full of gaslighting comments and false apologies, I didn’t say a word. Just deleted the message. Finally, I was able to gather the strength needed to block those toxic friends from all social media and my phone. One of these friends was someone I tried to make like me for years after I was told that she hated me for no reason, by her own admission.

Some may not agree with this approach, but I made the choice to cut contact and go radio silent on my own after consulting my friends, specifically my best friend who had been there for me during the incident my senior year.

As weeks went by, some of the true friends from that group reached out, and then immediately backed off after my polite request for space, indicating that I was welcome back at any time and they were always here for me.

The ringleader chose the opposite approach. She continued to gaslight me, made a group chat with myself, the white supremacist, and herself. She sent me messages from her second account, one that I remembered to unfriend but forgot to block. She told me that if I don’t “course correct” by a certain date she would block me on my account (too late, bro) and that “we wish you all the best”. This implies that it was on behalf of the entire group, something I know three of them would never do. However, at this point, I have had to distance myself from all of those friends so as not to give the ringleader the attention she wants from me.

I lost over half of my closest friends over night. It felt like my skeleton had been torn from my body. I considered giving in several times and reaching out to them. But now, over a month later, I understand how necessary it was to excise what was essentially a malignant tumor. The Chernobyl researcher in me wants to compare it to Acute Radiation Syndrome (ARS): an unseen poison that slowly infiltrates every part of your mind and body and rots them from the inside out.

2020 was an extremely hard year for me, as it was for so many. I am so lucky and privileged to have been in the financial situation that I was and had the support of my genuine friends and family.

But it was still the worst year of my life. I have suffered from pretty bad OCD for most of my life, and while I usually keep it under control, last year it became nearly impossible to do so. I also fell very deeply into clinical depression, and worked to the point of burn out and exhaustion. The primary thoughts I had during this depression were: 

“Why aren’t you working? You’re lazy.”

“You’re a failure, you’re 26 and haven’t applied to grad school yet.”

“You piece of shit, still living with your parents? What a disappointment.”

“What is wrong with you?”

It was unbearable. I’m honestly not entirely sure how I survived it, but I think a certain 3-year-old goddaughter of mine and a few close, real friends had something to do with it.

I worked very hard with my friends, a therapist, and a psychiatrist to overcome this depression and get my OCD back under control. Now, I feel like such a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I still have depression, and the OCD will always be with me (like a bad habit... literally?); but I am so much more happy with myself and my life, as I should be.

And I am very, very, very well aware that therapy was not the only reason I have recently begun feeling this way. It’s very hard to see that you’re being manipulated while it’s happening. Because of my trusting nature, sometimes manipulative comments would be interpreted as heartfelt guidance.

It wasn’t until I started the journey away from them that I saw just how much this group and their negativity (because even the best of them weren’t always the kindest) impacted my mental health.

The event that made me want to share this story is this: yesterday was a rough work day. As a full-time community organizer, I am pretty much burnt out all of the time. Breaks are taken, but with projects addressing issues from COVID relief to systemic racism and police brutality, it never feels like enough. 

I had to officially take a step back as a sole lead on an annual event that I organized for two years, and it was gut-wrenching.

Now, I cry often, but I don’t usually get to have therapeutic cries. You know what I mean? Like, as you cry, all of the tension that built up in your body by negative feelings is finally being released with every breath and sob?

Well, the dam finally broke in a team meeting on Friday. I started sobbing and couldn’t stop. And my colleagues were so, so kind. They let me vent, they let me cry, they would not accept my apologies for crying. They told me that I was strong for setting up boundaries, and that they were here for me.

We spent a lot of time at the end of the meeting each talking about our self-care routines. And as I sit here typing this, I am actively trying not to cry at the purity of their support.

This experience has taught me what real friends are. Real friends do not put limitations on your emotions and fears.

Real friends do not give you deadlines for processing your feelings.

Real friends do not criticize you for things that, while they may not agree with, do not affect anyone’s health or marginalize anyone.

Real friends don’t marginalize vulnerable communities.

Real friends help and support you with constructive criticism (when it’s asked for) and love, not patronization and manipulation.

I thought I knew all of these things before, but I know now that I am still learning... and that that is perfectly okay. I don’t regret most of the times we shared together. I am appreciative of the positive memories that their friendships gave me.

Three of the friends in this group are actually good people, and maybe one day when the dust is settled I’ll reach out to them and establish one-on-one friendships with them (if they want to). 

And I have to thank my real friends, including @tryingtobealwaystrying, for all saying the exact same thing: you deserve so much happiness and fuck all of those guys.

So, the point of this post is to tell everyone this: you can leave your toxic friends. It’s incredibly difficult, stressful, and honestly traumatizing. And there’s no shame in needing time or feeling unable to leave those friends now. There’s also no shame in returning to those friends.

But please know, from this nerd to the reader: anyone that makes you feel any less than the beautiful, amazing human being you are and doesn’t want to help you become an even better human on your own terms is not a true friend. They don’t deserve you or the light you can bring into their lives.

And every agonizing step away from those friends is a step closer to a happier, healthier life.