#like someone took an order at the front register wrong (happens so fucking often) or someone placed their mobile order wrong

[asbestieos]

actually no i work so hard bcos im perpetually paranoid of being fired 😭😭😭 i need to give my manager so many reasons why she NEEDS me

[leossmoonn]

Play Ground Days

masterlist

pairing - carl gallagher x fem!reader

type - fluff

note / request - “ughh FINALLY someone that writes good imagines abt carl from shameless! could you write one where you two grew up together and you've always been close n stuff and then at some point he realizes he loves the reader and he talks to ian and lip (maybe mickey too bc i love him) about it? (fem!reader btw if that's cool) thanks babe xx” thanks for inspo on the beginning @poesflygirl​ <3 ,,, carl and you are 16 also pls dont come for me ive only played COD 2 times last year so lmao i dont remember a lot about it, enjoy!

summary - carl has liked you since you two were young, and seeks advice from his brothers and mickey

warnings - strong language, drugs and alcohol, little talk about bad body imagine 

————

*gif isnt mine*

“I fucking knew it!” Lip exclaimed.

“Why are you telling us? We’ve known this.” Ian commented, smirking at his little brother.  

“How the hell—” Carl started. 

“You’re not exactly great at hiding your crush on her,” Mickey chuckled. 

Carl’s eyes were the size of saucers. “You knew?”

“Of course I did. I’m not fucking Helen Keller,” Mickey rolled his eyes. 

Carl groaned and ran his hands roughly through his hair. “I can’t believe this. Well, secret’s out, I guess. What do I do?”

“Just go tell her you like her. It’s not like she’s going to turn you down.” Lip shrugged, putting his cigarette to his lips. 

“Lip!” Ian hit his brother’s shoulder. 

“What?” Lip asked. 

“You weren’t supposed to say that, dumbass,” Mickey said.

 “What does that mean?” Carl asked, looking in-between his brother’s and Mickey. 

Lip sighed. “Ah, shit, right. I’ve already said too much.”

————

4 hours earlier: 2:00 PM

“Hey, shit head!” She called out, throwing rocks against the window. 

Carl got up from his bed, shocked but happy to see her. He opened his window, leaning against the frame. 

“What’re you doing here?” He asked.

She threw the rocks to the ground. “Escaping from my druggie dad, duh. What’re you doing?”

“Nothing,” Carl shrugged. 

She did her signature smirk that always made Carl’s heart flutter. “Wanna go and stuff our faces at Patsy’s Pies?”

Carl’s eyes lit up at the mention of fatty, greasy food. “Hell yeah. I’ll come down.”

She nodded, going to the front of their house. Carl ran down the stairs, putting on his shoes and opening the door to find her on the steps. 

“Hey, why didn’t you just come into the house?” Carl asked, shutting the door behind him. 

“Putting damage on your window seemed more fun. Oh, hey! Do you have an extra bed I can sleep in tonight?” She asked. 

Carl nodded. “Yeah, of course. Your dad is that bad, huh?”

“Yep, he relapsed. Super fun,” she laughed sarcastically. 

“I’m sorry. That shit sucks,” Carl said.

She shrugged. “Yeah, well, it’s life. Anyways, ready to go?”

Carl nodded. They got into her car, the girl starting it and driving fast to the dinner. As she was driving, humming to the songs on the radio, Carl stared at her. She was absolutely gorgeous. 

Her name was Y/n L/n. Carl’s oldest and only real friend. They had grown up together, Y/n living only a few houses away from him. They had met in detention in 1st grade and had been close ever since. 

“What’re you staring at?” Y/n asked, glancing over to him. 

Carl blushed. “Nothing.”

“Alright,” Y/n sang.

Carl had often been caught staring at her. It was something he usually did from time to time, but now it was more often. He couldn’t help it. There was something about her. Maybe flawless her skin was, how pretty and bright her smile and eyes were, the way she would make him feel secure and loved, something he had never got from anyone consitently. 

He never really knew why he thought those things about her. People had told him that he probably had a crush on her, but he knew that wasn’t right. He had crushes on girls before and the things he was feeling for Y/n were a lot different than what he had felt for his past girlfriends. He figured it was just that she was his closest friend and he happened to be a horny teenager, so naturally, he just thought those things about her. But oh, how wrong he actually was. 

Y/n parked her car at Patsy’s Pies. They walked into the diner, seeing Fiona at the register. 

“Hey, Fi,” Y/n smiled. 

“Hey, Y/n, Carl! Long time, no see. How are ya?” Fiona asked. 

“Good, good,” Y/n smiled. 

“Good,” Carl said. 

“Great! Well, get yourself seated and someone will be right with you,” she smiled. 

Y/n and walked off to a small booth and sat down. They picked up the menus that were already on the table. 

“You gonna get your usual?” Y/n asked. 

Carl shrugged. “Maybe. Should I change it up?”

“Yes. The double bacon cheeseburger looks good,” Y/n said. 

“Are you getting that?” Carl asked. 

“Maybe. I’ll probably get a salad or something. Gotta watch those calories, you know?” She half-joked, putting a hand on her stomach. 

“I think you look good. You don’t need to worry,” Carl smiled. 

Y/n’s eyes widened. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Carl nodded. 

Y/n looked back at the menu, hiding her embarrassment.

Carl complimenting her was something that was rare, but did happen. Y/n never remembered Carl as a romantic type of guy, but it seems that he had developed  those traits from having a few girlfriends. She liked that, actually. She liked him complimenting her, staring at her for minutes at a time, the way his ears would turn red when she teased him. She liked all of that. 

Y/n would never admit it to anyone, but she had a crush on Carl. She had a crush on him since their freshman year of high school. Well, in reality, she probably has always had one, but the first time she really realised she liked him was in biology when he got in trouble in one of the labs. She remembered when the teacher was yelling at him and he looked at her, smiling at her mischievously and winking at her. That wink had her heart racing and mind go foggy. From then on, she had liked him as more than a friend. Yet, she never said anything because well, as cliche as it was, she was afraid of ruining their friendship. He was really the only one who got her and who never abandoned her. She couldn’t lose him, so she just kept her feelings and gestures to him as friendly as she could.  

“Hi, I’m Carly and I’ll be serving you today. What can I get you today?” The waitress asked. 

“Hi, can I get the philly cheesesteak with a medium coke and fries,” Carl ordered. 

Carly nodded and wrote his order down, turning to Y/n. 

“Um, I’ll get the bacon cheeseburger with a small sprite and fries. Thanks,” Y/n ordered. 

Carly took their menus. “Great. I’ll have your drinks out soon.”

Y/n and Carl smiled at the waitress as she walked away. 

“Hey, so I thought your dad was in rehab,” Carl said. 

Y/n sighed. “He was, but I guess his girlfriend got him drunk, then convinced him to do some lines. God, I can’t believe he's even with her still.”

Carl frowned. “What about your mom? Where’s she?”

“She’s going to nursing school right now. She’s the only one responsible in this family, yet she never calls or anything,” she scoffed.

“You’re really responsible,” Carl said. 

Y/n smiled. “Thanks, C. You are, too.”

Carl laughed, “Me? I sold drugs on the streets once.”

She giggled. “True. But you’ve really shaped. I'm proud.”

Carl smiled sheepishly. “Thanks.”

Y/n hummed a ‘you’re welcome’. Carly came back with their food quickly and they dug in. Carl and Y/n spent their time talking and eating, spending about 2 hours there as they just kept talking. 

“Are you two finished?” Carly asked, gesturing to their empty plates. 

“Yeah,” Carl nodded. 

“Great. Here’s your bill, pay whenever you’re ready,” Carly smiled and took their dirty dishes. 

“Ready to go?” Y/n asked. 

Carl nodded and got out his wallet that he had in his shorts. Meanwhile, Y/n also got out her wallet. They both looked up at each other, awkward expressions on their faces. 

“Oh, I was gonna pay,” Carl said. “No, no, my treat. I invited you here,” Y/n said. 

“You sure?” Carl asked. 

She smiled and put a hand on his arm. “Yes, I am, Carl.”

Butterflies irrupted in Carl’s stomach as she touched him. He nodded slowly, putting his credit card away. Y/n and him walked up to the register and paid for their meal. They then went back to Y/n car. 

“What do you wanna do now?” Y/n asked. 

“Wanna play COD Black Ops 3?” Carl asked. 

“Yes!” Y/n smiled. She drove them back to his house, parking haphazardly on the street. 

The two hurried into the house, grabbing a seat on the couch. Carl got the controllers, turning onto the playstation. Y/n logged onto her account, selecting the gun she wanted to use. Carl then started the game. 

“Where are you?” Y/n squinted her eyes at the screen. 

“Right behind you,” Carl smirked. 

Y/n turned around, gasping as Carl shot her. 

“Fuck you!” Y/n exclaimed. 

“Little rusty, huh?” Carl teased. She rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna kill you next round.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Carl said. 

“Winner gets to pick what’s for dinner,” Y/n said. 

“Deal,” Carl nodded. 

The pair played for a couple hours, the game ending with Y/n getting the last kill. 

“Good game,” she smirked, setting the controller down. 

“I forgot how good you were at this,” Carl frowned. Y/n giggled, “I forgot how bad you were.”

Carl rolled his eyes with a smile. “Alright, where do you want to eat?”

“Hm… Noodles n Company?” She suggested. 

“Sure,” Carl nodded. 

“Alright, I’m gonna use the bathroom and then order. Text me what you want,” Y/n said, getting up from the couch. 

Carl nodded and watched her go upstairs to use the bathroom. Then that’s when Lip, Ian, and Mickey all came into the house. 

“Hey, guys,” Carl said. 

“Hey,” Ian smiled. 

“Is Y/n here? We saw her car out front,” Lip said. “Yeah, she is,” Carl nodded. 

“Asked her out yet?” Lip smirked. Carl’s face turned red. “Wh-What?”

“Oh, you’re not in love with her then?” Ian furrowed his brows. 

“I… am I?” Carl asked. 

Ian chuckled. “Yeah. You always are always happy around her, blush whenever she teases you.”

“And you’re always staring at her,” Lip added.

“That doesn’t mean I like her,” Carl said.

“Do feel dizzy and nauseous when she touches you? Does your heart race when she gets close? Do you see yourself kissing her? Would you do anything for her?” Ian asked. 

Carl furrowed his brows. They were right, all those things did happen when she was near. She was his best friend. He also sometimes think about kissing her and being with her in a romantic way. And yeah, of course he would do anything for her. Maybe… Maybe he did love her. 

“Oh, shit,” he muttered. “I… I guess I am in love with her.”

And that, ladies and gents, is where we left off. Lip, Ian, and Mickey teased Carl until Carl begged them for real help. 

“What do you mean?” Carl asked anxiously. 

Lip looked to Ian and Mickey for help on what to say. Little did Carl know, Y/n actually did admit her crush to someone. And that someone, or someones, were Lip, Ian, and Mickey. 

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Mickey said. 

“Did she say something to you?” Carl asked. “No,” Ian shook his head. “Like Mick said, don’t worry.”

“I… fine. Well, what do I do then?” Carl asked in slight distress.

“Give her some flowers and chocolate. Girls love that shit,” Lip suggested. 

“Alright,” Carl nodded. “I don’t know what her favourite flowers are, though.”

“Just get her roses. That’s really romantic,” Lip said. 

Carl smiled, “Alright. Awesome. Thanks, guys.”

He decided to get the flowers early morning tomorrow before Y/n woke up. 

————

Carl sneaked back into the house, hoping not to wake Y/n up. As he walked into the kitchen, he was shocked to see her at the table drinking coffee. 

“Hey, Carl!” Y/n smiled. 

Carl’s eyes were blown wide. “I.. uh…”

“Who are those for?” Y/n got up and pointed to the flowers and chocolate in his hand. 

“Um… you?” Carl said. Y/n smiled. “Me? What did I do to deserve this?”

Carl knew that he couldn’t make up an excuse. He was horrible at lying to her. So, he decided to just have his confession here. 

“I.. I’m in love with you,” Carl said. Y/n’s jaw dropped and she froze. “Wha-What?”

“My brothers and Mickey helped me realise I was yesterday when you were ordering dinner. They told me I should get you flowers and stuff so I did. I hope you like roses,” Carl explained and held up the gifts. 

Y/n’s lips upturned in a wide smile. “How long have you liked me?”

“Honestly, probably since we were little,” Carl shrugged sheepishly. 

Y/n giggled. “Me, too.”

“Really?” Carl smiled. 

Y/n waked up to him and took the gifts, setting them on the kitchen counter. She went up to him and put her arms around his neck. 

“Yep. I always have,” she grinned. 

“Oh, sick!” Carl exclaimed. “Oh wait.”

“What?” Y/n asked in confusion. 

“That’s what they meant!” Carl exclaimed in realisation.

“Who? What?” “Oh, Lip, Mickey, and Ian kind of told me yesterday when I asked for help,” Carl explained. 

Y/n’s eyes widened and she turned to the stairs, glaring. “Mickey, Lip, Ian! You better fucking run!”  

————

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taglist (crossed out means i couldnt tag)

@kaitieskidmore1 @the-anxious-youth @little-miss-naill @powerpuffluuvv

[angry-geese]

Jotaro Kujo x reader

Warnings: nsfw. Smut, fingering, oral (masc reciving), unprotected sex, not the healthiest relationship dynamic, implied age difference, daddy kink. Fem!Reader

Notes: Jotaro being a sugar daddy. College student!Reader, pt4 Jotaro- sort of takes place before the events of DIU but it really isn't clear

It only took a call.

You were still a college student at the time, taking a semester off of your studies. You had no idea what direction you wanted to go with your life, and wanted to get things sorted out before you dove head-first into a major you'd hate. Putting it lightly: the future was terrifying. For the time being, you were working at a coffee shop. It was a decent job- at full time it covered rent for an apartment you shared with a friend. You weren't rolling in it by any means, but you were comfortable enough.

Jotaro frequented your work. You had his order memorized: a single black coffee and a bagel- if he was getting something to eat that morning. Rather boring. A boring order for a seemingly aloof and uninteresting guy. From the very beginning you piqued his interest. You were just bubbly enough to break through that shell of his. He often asked you how school was going. Having thought about majoring in marine biology, it gave you two a lot to talk about. In the end you decided against it, but by then he was already head-over-heels for you.

It wasn't often you found yourself giving out your number to customers. Something about him interested you. It wasn't an immediate thing, taking you weeks to work up the nerve to do it. His reaction was hard to gauge.

You wouldn't receive a text until later that night.

He spent the entire day trying to figure out what to say. So he went with something simple: How are you?

It didn't take long for the two of you to make plans to see each other again. Your first date was to a fancy restaurant. Fancier than you were used to. Working as a barista wouldn't cover a dinner like that, even with tips. Seeing the bill nearly made your soul jump out of your body, but you gritted your teeth and figured you'd eat nothing but ramen until payday. You tried not to look too relieved when he said he'd pay. It was a first date, maybe he was trying to be nice. Then it happened on your second. Then again. No matter how much you offered to pay, he always refused, going out of his way to cover your half. At times it was irritating. It didn't feel fair to let him pay for everything.

You weren't exactly dating, but if someone asked you would deny being single. There was little you knew about him. Obviously you weren't entirely clueless; you knew about his occupation, some small things he liked, one time he even mentioned having a daughter. But it was all very basic, something you could get from one conversation. He was very reserved,

He's not quite sure how it happened. It was only a necklace.

Jotaro just wanted company. Dating someone so much younger made him a bit uncomfortable. To him, there was an obvious power difference. A man his age shouldn't be dating someone as young as you. Sure, you were an adult who could make their own decisions, but it felt wrong. He felt like he was abusing his position, but seeing you bent over his desk wearing nothing but that necklace changed that.

Any time you called, he'd come running. It wasn't always sex. He slept better with someone next to him. Sometimes you'd call him to fuck you against every flat surface of your apartment.

His rough hands trace over the delicate lace of your bra- a gift. Most of them were. Through his pants he hardens against your thigh. You grind down on his lap, your fingers working the buttons of his shirt. His fingers ghosts across your clit through your panties. Wetness pools between your thighs, making the thin fabric of your panties stick to your skin. You're almost embarrassed at how quickly you melt under his touch. Almost.

You should be glad the door to his office locks.

His fingers trace around your clit- not enough to get you anywhere fast- before moving to your thigh. His spare hand palms himself through his trousers. He presses a kiss to your bare shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. You shift, almost unnoticeable so, desperate for more friction. His expression darkens. In retaliation you grind harder against his thigh.

"Don't be a brat."

"Sorry daddy."

He grunts, seemingly unimpressed with your apology. As much as he pretended to hate the nickname, it made something deep within him stir- almost shamefully so. His hands move to unhook your bra, tossing it aside. Often he ruined them, tearing them in the heat of the moment. He always bought you more.

Anything you wanted he would give to you.

He pulls you so your back is flush to his chest, gently tugging your legs open. Part of you is glad he can't see how you're blushing. His erection presses against your back, painfully hard and leaking against his thigh. From behind, he sucks a dark mark into your neck- you'll have a hard time covering it up in the morning. Not that you mind, you don't have much to do tomorrow anyway. For a moment his hand dips under the waistband of your panties. His free hand kneads the soft flesh of your breast, working your nipples into stiff peaks. He could watch you writhe under him all day. You maneuver your hips so he can pull them down, baring your sex. The sight of him fully clothed while you're completely naked sends a heat straight to your core. When you cross your arms over your chest to cover yourself, he's pulling them away, huffing in frustration. He'd never force you to do something you're uncomfortable with, but he sure did push your limits.

His fingers trace up the soft skin of your thigh. You jolt as his thumb briefly traces across your clit, before his hand comes to a rest on your leg. You know better than to grind against him. Though sometimes you do it just to piss him off. Roughly he shoves presses two fingers into you, moving with quick, short motions. Idly his thumb brushes over your clit. You can't help but squirm. Your moans and pleas only spur him on more. The sounds of your slick sex fills the room. Heat rises up in your cheeks at the lewd noises.

"Please daddy,"

"Please what?"

"Fuck me."

"Not until you cum on my hand first."

You whine. He only picks up the pace. This isn't the first time he's had to stretch you out before fucking you. The building tension in your stomach only serves to make you moan louder, crying out when he brushes against a particularly sensitive spot. He presses a kiss to the back of your neck, goosebumps rising up on your exposed skin. Your breathing grows unsteady the closer you get to your own release. Against your bare thighs, Jotaro's cock hardens, leaking precum into his white pants. Your thighs clamp around his hand as you cum hard. He grunts and nips at your neck, letting you ride out your orgasm on his hand. It's only when the overstimulation becomes too much and you cry out that he pulls away, making a show of licking his fingers.

"On your knees."

"Yes daddy."

You slide off his lap so you're kneeling in front of him. His hands rest at his sides.

You waste no time in freeing him from his pants, his hardened cock springing free. Precum weeps from the head, which is flushed and angry looking. He grunts when you finally take him into your mouth. Your hands work the part of his shaft that won't fit- he's to big to fit in entirely. You press kitten licks to the head, slowly pumping him in your fist. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard, his breathing is shallow and shaky. He groans at the warm, wet feeling of your mouth.

He doesn't want the moment to end just yet.

Jotaro's hand tangles in your hair, pulling you off of his cock with an audible pop. He hauls you into his lap, your knees on either sides of his thighs, your chest pressed against his. Slowly he guides you onto his cock, his hands kneading at the soft flesh of your ass. The sent of his cologne is heady and intoxicating. You're half drunk from his touch, your pupils blown, lips bitten pink. Even with the prep, it stings a bit. As you let out a hiss of pain, he presses a kiss to your bare shoulder, smoothing a hand over your hair. He gives you a moment to adjust to his size, before guiding you down more. You bottom out on his cock, moaning at the feeling.

Your lust-addled mind barely registers the way he begins bouncing you on his cock, guiding your hips with his hands. The sounds of your moans mix with the noise of skin slapping on skin. His fingers dig into your hips- not hard enough to leave bruises, but hard enough to hurt. You're so overcome with a mix of pain and pleasure that you can't focus on anything but him. He pulls you in for a kiss, but ends up nibbling at your bottom lip until you let him in your mouth. When Jotaro pulls away, a trail of saliva connects the two of you. A splotchy blush creeps up his neck, reaching his cheeks. He's unbuttoned the top few of his shirt, exposing his collarbone. Sweat beads on the planes of muscle of his chest and neck. He groans sinfully as you clench around him. You scramble for purchase against him, your arms wrapping around his neck, nails digging into his back.

His free hand moves to toy with your clit, the other gropes at your hips. He's can't pry his eyes from the way your tits bounce as you fuck yourself on his cock.

"Where do you want me to cum?" He asks.

"Inside!"

Your answer catches him off guard, but he's too close to his own orgasm to refuse. Your own release rolls over you like a wave, spitting you out and leaving you ruined. He clings onto your shaky form, pulling you close to him. Mascara streams down your face, your lipstick is smeared. His hot cum spills into your unprotected womb, leaking from you as he pulls out.

Jotaro takes a moment to admire your fucked-out expression before pulling you into his lap, cradling you in his arms. Your breathing evens out after a moment. You could fall asleep there if he'd let you. He just might. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, content where you are. The sight of your relaxed form makes affection swell in his chest. He uses the moment to press a kiss to your forehead.

The more he tried to convince himself he wasn't in love with you, the worse it got.

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 8

Let me in

B.Barnes x Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: y/n gets emotional

Warnings: swearing, feelings

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Life at the tower was...tiring, to say the least. During my free time I often found myself in the gym, lobbing knives at a target and trying my hardest not to biting one in Steve's chest every time he would correct my technique. When I wasn't trying to murder the avenger in cold blood, I was usually dragged into things by the other: briefings and debriefing for missions I'd never go on, my dad's parties, group training sessions and study periods with Bruce in his labs to name a few.

But for now, I was huddled in my rooms - fresh out of a hot shower after a brutal two hour training session and four mile run with Natasha - curled up on my bed and attempting to catch up on a few of the films I'd missed. But the exhaustion and drowsiness clouded my eyes, the noise from the TV merely in the background as I felt my eyes growing heavier by the second.

A sharp knock at the door snapped my out of my lowsey state, the people movie across the screen simple a blur of colour as my eyes darted past the tv and over to the door.

"Mr Stark is waiting at your door. Would you like me to let him in?" FRIDAY's evenly calm voice chimed, making me groan and mumble a 'no' into my pillows. The last person I wanted to see right now was my dad.

"Come on kid, let me in." My dad called from the other side of the door, and I could practically hear him roll his eyes and shake his head when I stayed silent. When he spoke again, it wasn't directed at me. "FRIDAY, override command and open the door."

"Wait! That's hardly fair!" I whined like a five year old, groaning again when the door swung open and my dad stood on the other side, quite clearly just as exhausted as I was.

"Get used to it, kiddo. Life isn't fair." Tony chided, walking over to my bed. I tried to shuffle away slightly when I felt the bed dip, my dad perching on the edge as his eyes scanned over the room. "I see you haven't decorated yet." He commented casually, as if nothing had ever happened between us.

"Yeah, well, I thought It'd be a shame to spend so much time on something when you're probably waiting to kick me out anyway." I mumbled, refusing to look at him.

"What the hell is wrong with you, y/n? Ever since you got back you've been-"

"Acting different?" I cut in, and when Tony simply swallowed thickly I nodded. "Funny that, seeing as I was kidnapped and tortured for three years. Not to mention made to kill people for another year after that."

"Y/n I'm sorry..."

"But you're not! You can't be, otherwise you'd actually have tried to save me, rather than leaving me to rot!" My voice cracked, tears pricked at my eyes and I now sat up straight in my bed, facing my dad but not looking him in the eye. "And you can't change that, you can't go back in the past and fix your mistake. And trying to fix it now sure as hell won't work, so I suggest you leave before I'm tempted to use you as my target for my training session tomorrow." I raised my voice, eyes now keeping his captive as the tears rolled freely down my cheeks.

"Oh, kid, they broke you." Tony murmured, cupping my cheek with his hand, eyes swimming with sorrow. Sorrow that I didn't want.

"You can't fix me either, because I'm not broken!" I said harsher now, voice only getting louder. "I don't need to be fixed..." I trailed off, voice barely above a whisper Joe as my eyes broke the contact, averting to my lap as the tears dropped onto the bed sheets.

That's how I found myself in my fathers arms, face pressed against his shoulder as the sobs made my body shake, hiccups escaping me as I tried to speak.

"A-all I needed W-was my D-dad, and yo- you took him f-from me!" I wailed, hands clutching my dad's shirt and his arms wrapped protectively around my shoulder, hands rubbing circles over my back soothingly.

"I know, kiddo. I'm sorry."

...

"Who is that?" Clint frowned, staring at the pictures scattered over the table in front of Natasha and Steve as they studied them deeply,  brows creased in thought.

"Our newest pain in the ass." Tony answered for them, slapping a thick folder down in front of Clint as he said so. The marksman was quick to pick it up, flicking through the documents, news stories and information sheets greedily.

"The...winter soldier?" He asked, looking at the three superheroes in front of him as if they'd gone mad. "But he's a ghost story!"

"I've seen him. Been shot by him, actually." Nat said, an sadistically proud smirk forming on her lips with her last words, almost as if it were an achievement.

"We're trying to find out more about him, maybe that way we can beat him." Steve explained, sitting back in his chair with crossed arms as he huffed in defeat, sick to death with staring at the same five pictures all morning.

Y/n walked in, a skip in her step as she crossed the room to Tony.

"Morning, dad." She greeted, placing a quick kiss to his cheek and heading over to the cupboard to grab a mug. Clint and Natasha frowned in confusion, looking between the two as if they'd witnessed pigs fly.

Tony shrugged, y/n too preoccupied with making herself a coffee to notice the avengers' reactions. When her coffee was done, y/n swiped her mug from under the machine and sipped happily, letting out a content sigh before wandering over to stand behind Natasha.

"What are you working on?" She asked, peering over the spy's shoulder to get a glimpse of the pictures.

A loud smash crashed through the room, Tony's eyes widening in shock and Natasha jumping from her seat in order to not get covered in spilt coffee. Y/n stood paralysed, eyes never leaving the photo in front of her as she started at the Soldier. Steve frowned deeply, studying the girl as her eyes glossed over with with what seemed to be...sadness.

Clint was already at her side, a comforting hand on her shoulder as they all asked y/n what had happened and if she was alright. It was like a constant ringing in her ear interrupted their words before they reached her ears, and y/n suddenly felt nauseous as she starred at the bright red star on the soldier's arm, his long and messy dark hair shrouding his face and his leather clad, muscular body. Only his cerulean blue eyes could be seen, the rest of his face covered in a black mask she didn't usually see him in.

"I-I need some air." She stuttered, stumbling blindly out of the room and down the stairs, tipping over a few steps from the bottom and tumbling down the last few. She quickly pulled herself to her feet, hearing still ringing and vision offset, hazy, as she scrambled for the double glass doors. Luckily they already stood open, so she flew through them and out into the busy streets of New York.

Y/n found herself colliding will someone almost instantly, angry shouts of 'hey, watch it!' And 'look where the fuck you're going, kid!' Being called after her like a chorus as she pushed through the bustling people.

She finally stopped, dropping to her knees and simply staring straight ahead, no intended subject in her line of vision as she tried to comprehend the-the grief, at seeing the a soldier's face again.

It had only been two weeks, and yet two weeks without him, his touch, his scent - it felt like an eternity to y/n now. She hasn't registered what her feeling meant for him before, liking him beyond a source of comfort had just felt...wrong, after all he'd done, and yet y/n couldn't deny it.

She was in love with the Winter Soldier, and she didn't even know his name.

...

I wasn't aware of when someone had found me, nor of how they got me back to the tower or even how I was now stood staring blankly out of the window that stood next to my bed. I gazed longingly, almost as if I stared long enough, hard enough, he'd appear.

But of course he wouldn't, he was probably half way across the world, knowing HYDRA. A soft knock on my door and my head was turning, facing my visitor with a look of pure grief and want. Desperate, unhinged want that could eat you up from inside out and you'd still feel it.

"Hey, y/n. Can I talk to you for a moment?" Nat asked tentatively, clearing trying to to disturb my shaken up state. I nodded, offering a small smile which she returned as I now faced her. She walked up to me, talking my hands him hers and playing with the as she spoke, eyes kind and full of understanding.

"There's a mission, and we want you to go." She said calmly, almost as if the mere thought of it would send me into some kind of heart attack.

"Okay," I begun, eyes flitting down to the floor before back up again. "What is it? Aren't you scared that I'm still HYDRA and all I'd do is stab someone in the back?"

"Not exactly." Nat informed me with a smile, amusement glinting in her eyes at my assumption. "For starters, we all trust you, well maybe not steve - but everyone else does." Nat and I both laughed slightly. "And I think you wouldn't have it any other way it to go on the mission yourself." Nat finished.

"How come?" I asked, brow raised.

"There's been a lead..." she started. "On the winter soldier. We thought you might want to help check it out, possibly capture him. Your powers may be the best chance we have a detaining someone as strong as him." Nat spoke. "And if we can detain him.."

"We can save him." I finished.

"Exactly."

[starsstruck]

cloudbusting; part five.

a classic coffee shop story. harry is a painter that quickly becomes a regular at his neighbourhood cafe, and it just might have something to do with a certain barista. cloudy mornings, gallery openings, and rooms full of paintings.

pairing: harry x reader warnings: language, mentions of anxiety words: 8.9k

series masterlist

art by holly warburton. (i have no vision for the mc of the fic, people in the images of paintings i use are purely because this is how i envision harry’s art to be)

a/n: i am so excited (and nervous) to share this chapter but she is here ! amazingly big thank you to tina @sunflowers-styles​ for beta-ing, you are the best ily💕 ! as always please share if you can, and let me know your thoughts, i love to here everything you have to say !!🍊💕 happy reading xoxo

The clouds that came in seemed to have doubled, growing bigger and darker as a cool wind came with them.

The change in weather was quick, summer seeming to slip right out from under you as fall settled into the air. Although, the change was welcomed. There was always something about the sun glowing in the sky while the air was cool. But this was not one of those fall days, no today was damp and misty and not at all pleasant. 

That Saturday morning, there was a light rain when you woke up for the mid-shift that you had to cover since apparently your coworkers didn’t know how to give notice before deciding they couldn’t work.

“What time are you off?” Your brother asked, as you were taking a bite out of the jam covered toast you had made yourself before needing to run off to work.

“Three,” you called between bites.

“I can come meet you when you're off if you’d like,” he said, joining you in your kitchen. “Might bring in my laptop, get some work done.”

You nodded. “That sounds good,” taking a quick glance out the window, you faced him once more. “Hopefully it’ll be slow today considering the weather.”

“Fuck,” you muttered quickly, half a slice of toast in your hand as you caught a glance of the time from the clock on the oven. “I gotta go. I left you the key on the table if you want to head out and I’ll see you this afternoon!”

You called to your sibling who was behind you as you grabbed your jacket and bag from where you had left them on the couch. “Sorry again about this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, looking through your recently filled fridge. “I have some things to get done so it works out well.”

With a hurried goodbye, you were out the door and rushing down the street. You always left maybe a minute too late and ended up having to power-walk to work. The morning air was chilly and just wet, overall unpleasant and not doing much to up your mood.

You hadn’t slept well at all the night before.

You were unable to sleep after the hole you had dug for yourself from your Instagram deep dive, your mind not shutting up about everything that happened within the past two months – the past two months with Harry.

You were feeling this small twinge from the back of your mind, something that was getting louder and louder in your head. A small hint of a voice that you knew was your own, that was telling you that you should be afraid.

And after all the emotional exhaust from the previous day, you had to go make small talk with person after person which was something you just really weren’t looking forward to.

“What are you doing here?” Saya asked when she saw you turn in past the counter and into the back room to hang your coat and bag. You were happy to see that there weren’t a lot of patrons, and that Saya seemed relaxed with the morning so far.

“I’m covering for Noah,” you told her as you clocked in, not even aware of the way your eyes scanned over the work space to look for anything that needed to be done.

“Of course he’s off,” she muttered under her breath, herself having her own issues with being unable to say no when people asked her to cover for them. “Weren’t you supposed to have the week off?”

You nodded. “The whole week, yeah. Grace is going to cover one of my shifts so I’ll have an extra day off, which is nice. But my brother is visiting and I just –” you sighed, “don’t feel like being here.”

“I get that,” Saya shot you a smile as you made yourself a big hot latte. “It’ll be okay, I don’t think today will be that busy.”

And boy was she wrong.

Seemingly minutes after your conversation, a steady flow of clients came in. The steady flow turned into a rush, which again never seemed to end. You didn’t know why everyone was out and about, wanting coffee on this cloudy September morning, and why they couldn’t just be at home.

Saya, the angel she was, took the orders while you rushed through making drinks. It was arguably more stressful to be the one making drinks, but it also meant you didn’t have to talk to people as much. At ten-thirty, Aleena came in as well, and joined your side in making drinks so it became a bit more bearable.

Your brother had come in at the height of the rush, lucky to find a spot in the back to sit at and do whatever work he needed, as he drank the americano you’d made for him.

Luckily the noon lull came, as it often did, and you had a small moment to catch your breath and do some tidying up before it inevitably got busy again.

You walked around with the dish bin against your hip, and it quickly got heavier as you filled it with utensils people had neglected to bring back. A man then very rudely grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks to ask you where the washroom was and you were muttering under your breath in annoyance as you balanced the bin to pick up a stack of plates.

“Hey,” a voice that you hadn’t expected to hear, and one that you were trying to keep out of your head, was suddenly sounding next to you.

Head whipping up to where it came from, you pushed some of your hair out of the way after placing the plates along with the other dishes in the bin.

“Oh, um –” you said, a bit dumbly. “Hey.”

“Surprised to see you here again – I remember how you said you had a week off.” Harry said, standing tall and beautiful and everything you didn’t need to be reminded of right now.

“Covering again,” was all you said, avoiding his gaze. The dish bin in your hands felt like it was growing heavier and heavier, and provided you the perfect excuse to step away from the conversation.

“I got to um,” you lifted the bin in your hands, wordlessly telling him you needed to empty out the bin.

“Oh, of course,” he nodded with a tiny furrow in his brow that you didn’t have time to analyse as you kept your eyes on the small line up that had re-formed in front of the till.

You stepped past him, quickly disappearing behind the door of the back room, where the dishwasher sat ready to be loaded.

Just as you were stepping out after rinsing the dishes and loading the washer, you were heading out from the back room when someone stopped you again.

A call of your name made you jump slightly, a small ‘jesus’ leaving your mouth before you turned to see Harry slightly invading the employee space of the café as he tried to reach out to you.

“Sorry,” he spoke, after seeing your small bit of shock. “I wanted – are you alright?”

You hated yourself for the passive answer. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh I just,” he paused, a slight furrow between his brow. “You seemed stressed yesterday…”

You shook your head, teeth pinching the corner of your bottom lip. “I’m fine.”

Seeing his mouth part open to speak once more, you were quick to cut him off with a motion towards the register. “I should get back – busy day.”

And then you were off without sparing him a second glance. Your heart rose to a lump in your throat, a nauseated feeling taking over your stomach that you didn’t think was due to the coffee intake.

You rejoined Aleena by the espresso machine, and saw that she in fact was not busy and was just wiping off sparse grounds from the counter top, and cleaning out milk pots.

You helped her, cleaning out the already clean baskets again to occupy yourself as you knew from the corner of your eye that Harry had walked to the till to order something and that would mean his next stop would be counter by the espresso machine to pick up his drink.

Letting Aleena make the drinks, you bent down to rearrange the mugs that sat under the counter to occupy yourself. When you stood back up to your feet after completing the menial task, you stumbled back away from the counter lightly due to the small head rush, and to the fact that Harry was leaning forward across the counter, forearms lightly resting against it.

“Doesn’t look too busy.” Although his words seemed to have a small bite to them, his tone was light and maybe the punch wasn’t intentional.

“It was…” you stated weakly, eyes briefly flitting over his before looking back down again.

There was a small pause, one far too uncomfortable for you to deal with, especially with Aleena right next to you and other customers on the other side of the counter.

“Are you upset with me? He asked you directly, his words causing you to glance back up at him.

“No, I –” you paused, unsure of what to say and not wanting to say it here. Waving your hand in a motion for him to follow, you turned on your feet and headed to the space before the back room, where the floor of the café met the floor from behind the counter.

Harry followed you from the other side, meeting you where he had stopped you a mere couple minutes ago to talk – something that seemed like you couldn’t avoid at the moment.

“Are you okay?” He repeated the question from before, as you leaned your side against the wall, arms crossed over your chest.

“Yeah, I’m just a bit stressed I guess,” you said lamely, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeves. “A lot going on.”

He slowly nodded, as if not convinced by your words. “Did you want to do something after your shift, blow off some steam and relax?”

Shaking your head no, eyes dropping away from his as you couldn’t bear to look at him in the eye anymore. “I can’t, my brother is with me for the weekend.”

You darted your eyes over to where your brother actually sat not far off, oblivious to the interaction unfolding near him with his eyes glued to his laptop.

“Right, sorry I forgot.” His voice was quiet, words being followed with another moment of silence that you wished to skip through, the only noise coming from other voices in the cafe and Comment te dire Adieu playing a bit too loudly.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He probed for the third time, the frustration in his tone starting to seep through. 

“I am,” you didn’t know if he caught the slight shake in your tone, the slight shake that completely contradicted the words to leave your mouth.

“It’s just,” you paused again, all words seeming to fall out of your head as you were unable to form a sentence. Either that, or you were holding back what was about to blurt from your mouth. “I think that –

He sighed your name. “You think what? Did you want me to leave, or something?”

“I – what do you mean?”

“I don’t know, you…” he ran his free hand over his forehead, pushing some hair out the way. With a little sigh, he glanced at you again. “You’re acting like you want nothing to do with me.”

The nausea was rising from your stomach to your throat.

“I think that um, maybe you should go.”

He didn’t move. “Where is this coming from?” There was a small crack in his tone, one that made your eyes shut for a moment too long as you willed yourself not to get visibly upset.

“I’m tired… I’m tired of being someone that people just pass through.”

You dared to cast a glance at his expression, seeing a deep pull in his brows and a frown on his lips. It hurt you more than you’d like to admit.

You liked him – probably more than you’d had liked anyone, but that was something that you couldn’t think too much about. You liked him a lot and you were so afraid that your first instinct was to run and hide. You knew very well that you were succumbing to your own insecurities, that you were picking and pulling at any loose thread that could be used as a valid reason for your fears.

“What are you saying?” He asked, frustration growing in his voice as he silently begged you to look up at him. “I don’t – I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“I just – I’m tired Harry.” You sighed, worrying the inside of your mouth. “I’m tired of being hurt…”

Voice not sounding like your own, you spoke words that were about to bring tears to your eyes. “I think you should go.”

You saw his expression twist in every which way, but he only shot you a curt nod before turning on his feet and walking away from you just as you’d suggested. It was the last thing you had wanted to see, but at the moment, at work, you couldn’t deal with anything more than that.

Taking a brief moment, you begged yourself not to start crying for the thousandth time. You made sure not to watch him leave, knowing that it would only hurt you more. Instead you watched his figure walk through the door from the corner of your eye, seeing him turn a quick corner and disappearing you’re your sight. You had no idea when you would see him again.

Wordlessly joining Aleena, you picked up one of the order slips and read over the list of three personalized drinks. Hands moving on muscle memory alone, you cleaned out espresso filled baskets and pulled two shots to start preparing the drinks.

You let your mind wander just the slightest as you steamed milk, thinking about the way you had just completely sabotaged yourself. You knew you had your own reasons for it, as crazy as they may seem.

The slight screeching sound of the milk growing too hot brought your attention back to your task. You watched as the milk was just about to bubble out of the jug, quickly twisting the dial on the steam wand to turn it off. You poured the milk as you always did into the to-go cup, with a nice little rosetta for the customer with the medium latte, before you repeated the same action over and over, making drink after drink. 

You also knew that any fear you had over Harry’s ex was probably overly thought of, something that you shouldn’t be thinking about, but you just couldn’t help it. The self-deprecating part of you just didn’t see Harry wanting you to be that person to him, as much as you maybe wanted to.

So you continued to steam milk, working in perfect unison with Aleena as the workflow picked up again 

Your shift continued as it always did, with nothing out of the ordinary, and soon three o’clock was rolling in and you were free to leave and do all the wallowing you could ever want to do from the peace and calm of your own room. You left along with your brother, who said he had gotten all the work that needed to be accomplished just in time.

You walked in silence side-by-side down the street, with a tea in hand from work to warm you up and your brother with another coffee. The sky was swirling with dark greys and blues, the smell of rain high in the air as if a downpour was ready to come at any moment.

“Who was that, earlier on?” Your brother asked, after a moment.

You held in a breath. “Who?”

“The guy you were talking to, in the cafe. You looked upset.”

“He’s just,” you paused. “A friend. Or we were friends, I don’t know.” You muttered, your eyes stuck on the ground as the both of you walked together.

Your brother was quiet for a second from next to you, and you thought that you had been vague enough for him to drop the subject, but no such luck. “Did you guys date?”

Pausing, again you weren’t sure how to answer. “Not really.”

Looking at your sibling next to you, you saw him watching you with a little furrow between his brows. “What do you mean, not really?”

“Like,” you sighed. “Kind of, I don’t know. We had… a thing but never really went out I guess. Either way, I think it’s over.”

“You looked upset,” he repeated, as you turned onto the steps to your apartment and searched for your keys. “Did he say something, or…?”

You shot your brother a glance, nearly smiling as you shook your head. “No, it just…” you trailed off. You kind of wished you could tell him more, but also didn’t know what to say.

You opened the door to the building, letting the two of you in before walking up the flight of stairs together to your floor.

“You can talk to me, you know.” His words caught you slightly by surprise. You wanted to be able to talk about it with him, you wanted to be someone who could talk about anything they wanted with the people that were close in their lives.

Remaining silent the rest of the way up the stairs, neither of you spoke until your apartment door shut behind you.

“I kind of fucked everything up,” you sighed, words falling free from your mouth. Your brother put down his bag on the shelf by the door, watching you as he kicked off his shoes.

“I felt – I don’t know,” you repeated the three words for the thousandth time. “Today I think I completely pushed him away.”

Your brother was quiet, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Is that what you wanted?”

“I mean,” you sighed. “No. I don’t know, maybe. The thing is, he didn’t do anything wrong, not really. And I know that, and I feel dumb for it but I just –”

You cut yourself off, hearing the small shake in your voice. You knew if you kept speaking that tears would start to fall from your eyes, always being an angry and frustrated crier.

“But now I probably fucked that up for good. It was nothing serious to begin with so I’m sure I only scared him off.”

Your brother cleared his throat, unmoving as he spoke softly. “You don’t know that.”

“I guess,” you sighed, grabbing a glass from the cupboard for some water.

“I always do this,” this time, a few tears fell past your eyes as you couldn’t do anything to hold them in anymore. “I always said I needed to be more selfish in life and let things come my way but I – I guess I was selfish because I did what I did for no reason other than protecting myself.”

“Protecting yourself?”

You wiped your cheeks with the back of your hand, slightly tilting your head back as if to blink back in the tears that were freely falling.

“I do the hurting before I can get hurt, you know?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that the rest of the tears inside your eyes would fall and you’d be done, but it didn’t seem to work quite like that. You opened them when you felt his hand on your shoulder, wrapping you in for a small side hug.

“You,” he sighed. The two of you had never been that affectionate with each other, it was something you were not used to. “You deserve more than that.”

You think that it is one of the nicest things he has ever said to you.

“I always fucking do this, you know? I don’t know why; I don’t even notice I do it until after.”

You were on a roll, now freely crying and letting everything you wanted to say fall from your mouth. “I can’t – I feel so stuck. I don’t know why I’m so afraid of everything.”

“I just can’t let myself be happy for some reason.”

His hand squeezed your shoulder. “You deserve to be happy, too.”

The two of you were quiet as you cried. Letting the tears fall down your face, chest shaking with small heaves as you let everything out.

After a moment, he asked you. “You really like him, huh?”

“What?” Your voice cracked lightly, breathing evening out as you wiped away the wet streaks on your skin.

“The guy, at your work. I don’t think you’ve ever told me about anyone you’ve dated.”

“I have too,” you muttered lightly, although you knew he was right. You had mentioned names in passing, only of the few more serious relationships you were in. Even then, the details were very sparse.

“But seriously,” he continued. “It’s okay to let yourself be vulnerable. Sometimes that’s all you can really do.”

You let him wrap you in a true hug, something you don’t think you’d done with your brother since you were young.

“Do you want to order in? It looks like the rain finally started,” he spoke after pulling away. “We can eat, watch a movie.”

You nodded, the idea of food sounding like the best thing in the world right now. “That sounds good, yeah.”

“You choose what we watch,” he nodded to you, grabbing his phone from the counter, presumably to order whatever kind of food he had in mind.

Wordlessly walking over to your couch, opening up your Netflix as you mindlessly scrolled. You weren’t really paying close attention to the titles, mind still stuck on the little breakdown you had just had.

“What was the French movie you always used to watch when you were sad? I don’t mind watching that if you want.” You head your brother call from the kitchen.

“Oh,” you hummed, nodding at the perfect suggestion. Already knowing that Netflix had Amelie, you quickly found it and had it ready to play.

“It’s a happy one, right?” Your brother spoke, as he sat next to you on the couch while you watched the rain hit the window and pulled a thick blanket over your legs.

“Kind of,” you nodded. “It is a nice ending, but it’s a kind of happy-sad movie, you know?”

“Did you not want to watch it, then?”

“No, no I do,” you offered him a small smile. “I like to watch it when I feel lonely, or upset. Plus, I almost like that happy-sad feeling, it feels just more realistic.”

There was something about it, about your self-induced melancholy. There was still something that felt right, about sitting under a heavy blanket after your wallowing, the only noise around you coming from the rain against the window and the opening notes of Yann Tiersen’s soundtrack playing.

There was something so calming and comforting about the music coming from the TV, a soundtrack you knew maybe too well considering the amount of times you had seen the movie, on top of how often you simply listened to the soundtrack itself on its own.

But a little comfort was just something you needed right now.

You had your little days of comfort, wallowing, lounging, and relaxing. Your time with your brother ended up being surprisingly pleasant, and you two left off on a good note.

You still had three more days off until you had to go back to work, Grace was coming in and covering one of your shifts since you had picked up those extra ones when no one else could.

You spent those days relaxing, getting dinner with Mae and some other friends, running errands, and cleaning out your entire apartment. The weather never changed, the rain pouring the entire time, something that you for now were enjoying because it made you feel okay for lounging at home.

But now you powered down the street as you were about to be late, with your umbrella swaying in the wind and your off-white sneakers splashing in the puddles. You felt the relaxation of your week off slipping away and a small pit of anxiety settle in.

It wasn’t about going to work that stressed you out so much, it was about the possibility of seeing someone who you usually seemed to see at the café.

Once you pushed past the heavy front door, you immediately were looking around at every table to see if you could spot the familiar figure of curly hair as he hunched over the table, twirling pencils between his fingers.

But he wasn’t there, and that table where he usually sat in the back was occupied by a middle-aged woman sipping a latte and speaking loudly on the phone.

He wasn’t there when you were steaming milk and someone was asking you about who had painted the paintings that were hanging on the walls, and he wasn’t there when you had to close alone.

The following day was the same, as well as the weekend, and the next week.

That particular Monday morning you thought you might see him, a shift where he never failed to come in even if he couldn’t sit and stay.

But the only familiar faces were those of older regulars who talked to you about the changing weather and the week of rain that was happening.

That week slipped by, just as the other had. It had been two weeks since you’d had your little breakdown, and since you’d indulged in your self-sabotaging streak. You really knew that it was the wrong thing to do, but just like everything else, you knew that this would pass.

When you really thought about it, he was just listening to you. You had basically told him to leave you alone and that was what he was doing.

But when it had been over two weeks since you’d seen him, you realized you might have had the slightest tinge of heartache.

Just as you would always do, you pushed that feeling away. Telling yourself to forget about it and move on, and that would be that. A thing of the past, a future memory.

Though things had a funny way of working out, apparently it was in store for you to see Harry again.

Nearly halfway through September, the air fresher and more crisp, another thing about the changing weather had you pleased that you could layer on a big sweater but didn’t need a thick coat.

That Monday, you were coming in for the afternoon shift, distracted by attempting to close your soaking wet umbrella when the door of the coffee shop swung open and nearly smacked you in the face.

Taking a stumbling step back in shock, the umbrella in your hand still opened with the rain hitting the top of your head because, of course, the light-knit jacket you were wearing didn’t have a hood.

“Sorry,” deep voice muttering over the sound of cars driving on the wet road, a taller figure appearing from where the door had opened. “You alright – oh –”

Head turning at the far too familiar voice, looking up to be stared down by those clear green eyes.

Fuck.

He had a big coat on just as you did, a hair seeming a bit wet as well and sticking to the skin on the side of his face. There was a little 4 oz cup in his hand, looking so much smaller than it usually did, eclipsed by the size of his hand. 

Fuck.

The two of you must’ve looked a bit ridiculous, both with wide eyes and mouths agape, stuck in the doorway of a café with rain hitting the tops of your heads. But you couldn’t move, and you couldn’t walk away, and you wished that the rain would form a current and swiftly wash you away.

“Sorry,” you eventually blurted, gaining a confused look from Harry.

He had the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth, fingertips tapping against the little cup in his hands. Part of you hoped he felt as nervous as you did, but part of you also knew he was probably upset with you and wanted nothing to do with you.

“Have nothing to be sorry for…” he eventually said, words trailing off as if he wanted to say more.

Your eyes shot through the glass window of the coffee shop, knowing you were now officially late for your shift and that maybe someone would run out and tell you that you absolutely had to get to work, but again, no such luck. You could see Aleena yawning through the coffee shop opening.

Again, there was that pit of anxiety, the one that twisted your stomach and made your legs feel numb, as if you couldn’t stand straight but couldn’t move either.

“I didn’t think you were working today,” his words pulled you from your thoughts. “I uh, didn’t see you this morning and thought –”

He cut himself off, stumbling over his words, his gaze flicking away from yours. You didn’t even know what to respond, hoping that anything could get you out of this awkward encounter.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, just as you had.

You shook your head, biting your lips together. He had absolutely nothing to be sorry for.

“You –” again stopping yourself, not knowing how to say what you wanted to say. “I need to get to work…” you said instead, a small point to the door of the café that was still slightly propped open.

“Right – of course,” he took a wide step out of the way, allowing you space to walk out from the rain and to hold the door open for yourself. “Have a good shift.”

You only sent him a tight smile and a little nod, unsure of what else to say.

Not looking back, you quickly walked across the floor of the café with small squeaks coming from your wet shoes. “Oh my god,” muttered under your breath, feeling yourself heat up and grow uncomfortable under the layers you were wearing.

That entire interaction was so completely embarrassing and awkward, and nothing you wanted to ever happen.

You gave yourself a moment in the back room, hanging up your bag and coat, setting your dripping umbrella on the ground. The door pushed open slightly, Aleena’s voice speaking through the wood. “You okay?”

“Hey,” you opened the door all the way for her, hands running over your dampened hair, you sure looked a bit messy. Aleena watched you quietly for a second, as you smoothed your hands over your pants. “I’m assuming you saw that,” you said to your colleague after a moment.

“I did…” she trailed off. She knew more or less everything that had happened between the both of you, and you had no idea that he still came in and seemingly on purpose when you were not working.

You didn’t want to ask, and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of asking -- even though that was ridiculous and he wouldn’t possibly know that you were asking about him, but you couldn’t help it. “Does he come in a lot?”

“No,” she shook her head. “First and only time I saw him was today.”

Only nodding, you grabbed your phone from the table and slid it into the back pocket of your pants. The two of you headed out of the back room, you went to clock in and Aleena stood by your side to take the order of a customer.

You followed her to the espresso machine after the order was taken, pulling a shot to make yourself a drink as well.

“He asked about you, you know,” your coworker spoke as you were watching the steady pour of espresso as she was steaming some milk. “He said he thought he’d see you when he came in – which I guess he did.”

Your ears buzzed with her words, but you let the heat in your spine settle as you remembered the reality of the situation. “Didn’t really seem like he wanted to see me.”

Aleena only shook her head, tapping the milk pot on the counter before taking a second to slowly pour it into the mug that already had espresso in it. Once she made a nice big heart with the white foam of the milk, she placed the mug down on the counter and called out the drink before facing you once more.

She looped a finger through the belt loop on your jeans, tugging you towards her tightly. “Babe you’re too hard on yourself,” she spoke as she shook you by the jeans. “He asked about you, asked why you weren’t working this morning.”

You ignored the nervous twist in your stomach at her words, and the heat that rushed to your neck. Although really, you needed to remind yourself that you should remain grounded to reality.

And that seemed to be it, for the moment at least. You had told yourself that you’d made your peace with it, although you knew that really wasn’t true, and so things continued as they always did.

But things had a way of finding the person they were intended for, and on a chilly Saturday afternoon a few days later, it was like a sign had landed right in your lap. 

The day was slow, the colder weather usually slowing down clientele for a little while at least a little while. With a lull, you did as you always would and started some cleaning around the café. Wiping down tables, looking for dishes, sweeping up big messes that usually wouldn’t have to be dealt with later on in the day.

Your eyes sweeping over the side of the café, glancing at every table for any forgotten dishes or spilt drinks. Only seeing a few empty mugs left on a table in back, you walked the short distance needed to grab them and wipe over the wooden table with a dampened rag, just as something on the community bulletin board caught your eye when you casually glanced over it.

Two sheets of paper side by side, both the same, were screaming your name.

Metaphorically, of course.

They were posters made to promote an event; the name of the gallery written on top being one you were funnily enough familiar with. But that wasn’t what drew your attention in.

The design of the poster itself was minimal, the only image was front and centre. Image of a painting, one that was bright and cheery and screamed various shades of orange and yellow with a few streaks and splash of blue and green

It was the café.

“Oh my god …” muttering under your breath, you snatched one of the posters off the board as your eyes scanned over the page.

The name of the show was written over top in big bold letters, One Last Time Before You Go, with only one name written beneath it, one name you didn’t even need to read in order to know it was him. With Harry Styles, opening Tuesday September 22nd.

Forgetting the dishes you had been about to pick up, you brought your rag and the paper back to your colleagues.

“Do you know when this was brought in?”

It had to have been yesterday, it was the only day you were off. Noah had no answer for you, saying he hadn’t seen it until now. Aleena, however, had a much different answer for you.

“Oh, shoot sorry babe. I almost forgot,” she grabbed the paper from your hands as Noah went to take an order.

“Forgot what?”

You felt faint, your head was spinning. Why did he put these up here? When did he put these up? Does he come in more often when you're not working, has he asked about you more than that one time Aleena had mentioned?

“I think you know who put these up,” she clicked her tongue, flipping the page over to glance at the backside. “Wrong one…” she muttered.

“What? What do you mean wrong one?” You were babbling, questions flying out of your mouth.

She only smiled, weaving her way around you and until she was leaving from behind the counter and walking back to the bulletin board in the back where you had found it in the first place. You followed, watching her grab the identical one from the board and pin back up the one you had grabbed.

Handing it to you, she nodded her head at it. “He came in yesterday, told me to make sure you saw it. He also left a little something for you on the back.”

You glanced down at the paper in your hands, flipping it around and seeing she was right. On the back was written a note addressed to you in blocky red writing.

“I think you’d enjoy this show, and I’d love for you to be there. Hope to see you, Harry.”

Signed with a little scribbled in red heart and everything.

“Oh my god” you mumbled again, reading and rereading the note again and again.

You forgot you were still standing with Aleena. “You’re going to go, right?”

“What?” Raising your head at the sound of her voice, you saw her watching you with a smile playing on her lips. “I don’t know…”

“I’ll go with you, come on.” She raised an eyebrow at you.

“I think I close,” you stated, very weakly. The opening started at eight, and went until eleven, just like the other one. Even if you were closing, which you realized you weren’t, you would have plenty of time to go.

“No, you don’t,” she stated. “You open and I’m mid-shift. I’ll go with you, c’mon!”

You smiled at her. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“I’ll come to your place that night, and then we’ll go together, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded slowly.

“Good.”

Three days. For three whole days it was all you could think about.

You knew you had made a bit of a mistake; you really knew that right away – as soon as you had pushed him away.

You wondered how he’d talk to you, if he’d even want to. You wondered if it would be like when you’d run into him briefly outside of the café, if it was going to be awkward and tense with nothing good  to come out of it. You knew that technically he had invited you, technically. But still, you really didn’t know if any good could come of it.

Maybe Rory would be there too – tall and gorgeous and literally looking down on you – but also maybe you were just slightly spiralling.

When Tuesday finally arrived, you were practically buzzing, and it wasn’t from the amount of caffeine you had had in the morning.

You took a nap after your opening shift, showering just before Aleena came over. She brought a bottle of wine, immediately opening it and telling you to pour yourself a glass while you got ready.

The weather was still warm enough outside, but there was a brisk fall breeze in the air. Deciding to layer up just a bit since it was also dark out earlier, you pulled a chunky knit cardigan over your patterned orange dress.

After both sharing and finishing off the bottle of wine, you grabbed your beaded purse and headed out the door. You felt as though the wine had helped, but you were still bouncing with nerves. Aleena was chatting your ear off about the car her husband wanted to buy that she thought was too expensive, her story distracting you from your anxious state.

The two of you got to the gallery just before nine o’clock, purposely a bit late.

It was the same energy as the last time you were there, again a man in a red blazer stamping your hand at the entrance right after walking through the double glass doors. Aleena stuck by your side, now done with her story and telling you that you would be okay.

The first painting you saw was directly in the middle. The gallery seemed to be arranged differently than it was before, and although you knew they couldn’t have moved an entire wall, for some reason everything felt more enclosed, more tightly hugged together.

The first painting was the same as the one from the poster, except this time it was in its full size and glory and completely took your breath away. Now as you saw it larger, it was one hundred percent clear to you that it was the café Harry had painted.

“Wow,” Aleena mumbled from next to you, eyes also trained forward. The two of you slowly walked further into the space of the gallery, away from the door and towards that first painting.

It had to be at least seven feet tall, and nearly just as wide. It was all oranges and yellows, with a few streaks of blue. There were also some loosely painted figures of people in front of the shop, all vague and loose but you still wanted to know who he was basing them off of.

After spending another minute or so in front of the painting, you read the small white card that was placed next to it.

Harry Styles And I could sit here for hours. And I did. Oil on canvas, 2020

You read over the words again and again.

If you thought that was breathtaking, you were absolutely not prepared for what was to come.

As you let your eyes wander around the rest of the space, you felt like your heart was a brick in your chest, sinking through your body until it shattered on the floor to your feet.

The gallery was filled with warm hues of orange and blue.

Paintings of hands touching, heads resting on shoulders, arms wrapped around each other. Paintings of what you recognized to be the café, paintings of shared fruits, paintings of your favourite colours and your favourite places in the city.

You felt so overwhelmed and you didn’t know where to start.

Finding it in yourself to move your feet, you walked towards the nearest wall away from the entrance. From the corner of your eye you had seen a smaller piece, one that was drawing in your attention. It was slightly tucked away near two bigger paintings, but your eyes remained stuck on this particular one.  

The blue was so strongly familiar, like the wave of the ocean encompassing your entire body and pulling you away with it. You realized, as you squinted slightly at the smaller canvas, just why it was calling out to you.

“You keep it,” you shook your head as Harry tried to convince you to take the barely started painting with you home.

“Are you sure?” He watched as you swung your bag over your shoulder, having slipped the light cardigan you had brought in case it got cold.

You nodded. “I couldn’t do much with it, I don’t even have paint at home.”

“Okay,” he slowly nodded, eyes falling to the ground as he placed the small canvas on the table next to him. “Guess I will need something to remember this day by.”

You only laughed, watching the way his eyes glowed with his joke, before dipping your head down and hid your smile as you slipped on your shoes. You wanted to brush off his little comment, but really it made your stomach twist with the possibility that he did really want to remember every moment of his time with you.

The feeling of his hands gripping your thighs barely an hour ago was still burned into your skin, and you were sure to find a few more streaks of paint along yours legs that a part of you was excited to see.

“Let me walk you home,” his words took you slightly off guard, not expecting the offer.

“Oh,” you stood up after tying the laces on your sneakers, “you don’t have to, I’ll be f –”

“I want to,” he cut you off, as you faced him. “And it’s late out and …” he paused, biting his lips together, “and I want to.”

“Okay,” you smile, wanting him to walk with you too. “That would be nice.”

He grabbed a lightweight black jacket that was sitting on the shelf by the door, slipping his arms through it as he held his front door open for you.

The two of you walked side by side, down the emptying street as the moon rose in the sky and the air cooled down. You discussed your day off, and what you had going on with some friends that you hadn’t seen in a while. He told you about how he had promised his friend to help him move, a feat that no one enjoyed.

“What do you think you’re going to do with that painting I started?” You asked, as your feet came to a stop in front of the stairs that led to your building.

“Hmm,” he raised his head slightly, as if thinking deeply about his answer. One of his hands rested at his side, while the other slipped around your back until he was hugging you from the side. “Think I’ll hang it above my bed.”

You let out a small laugh, feeling his hand pinch your hip. Shoving him with your elbow lightly, as if to try and push him away, but he quickly tightened his grip around you and pulled you into his chest instead.

Only laughing again, chest shaking against his and you felt his other hand wrap around you and keep you locked in close. You instinctively raised a hand to his neck, fingertips toying with the strands of hair that poked out above the collar of his jacket, while your other hand rested on his shoulder.

He kept his gaze locked with yours, smile in his features and on his lips as he mirrored your laugh. You only stared up at him, feeling like the two of you were the only ones standing on the street, like the only ones in the city.

You saw his smile die down a bit, before his lips parted slightly. You knew you were staring at his mouth, and when you finally looked back into his eyes you saw him staring at yours as well.

“Do you think things happen for a reason?”

He spoke lowly, his eyes meeting yours again. You felt as though his words carried the weight of the world, but his tone was light as he peered down at you.

“I don’t know…” you shook your head, unable to think. “Why?”

Harry only hummed, remaining quiet as he kept you pressed tight against his chest. “Do you?” You asked after a second, throat feeling dry.

His head dipped down the slightest bit, his nose nearly brushing yours. You let your eyelids close lightly, feeling his lips nudge yours as he spoke again. “Could be,” he hummed, the words pressed as kisses on your mouth.

You couldn’t remember what he was even responding to.

His lips pressed lightly with yours, a sweet kiss of opening mouths and whispers of names. His hands around your back held you tight, as he let out a shaky little sigh against your mouth.

Pulling away for a second, he murmured softly from across you.

“I think I’m starting to have a pretty good idea of what to do with that painting.”

It was the painting. He had added some details over what you had started, more than some. There was nearly an entire figure added, but it was the painting.

The one you had started with him the first time the two of you truly purposely hung out outside of the café, the second time he had kissed you. The painting you didn’t get the chance to finish because he had laid you down on the floor with his head between your thighs and his name on your lips.

Slowly walking towards it, you let your eyes scan over every stroke of the brush.

The figure on the canvas – you knew it was you. Lying there on the floor, only painted from the chest up. Your dress was blending in with the background, one arm bent with your hand resting just above your head. Face turned to the side, you had your eyes shut and your bottom lip between your teeth, though still a hint of a smile on your face.

Orange and pink highlights over your cheeks and under your jaw, lighting up your entire face as the rest of the painting was more gestural and less defined.

To anyone who looked at it, you were sure it must look like someone lying in the sun, perfectly content. You had absolutely no idea how he had captured your likeness. It was done in an extremely realistic manner, but it was you.

You glanced at the white card next to it, breath stopping in your throat when you read over it.

What did my fingers do, before they held you? Acrylic on canvas, 2020

Over the title, just as every other card in the gallery was his name. But with this particular painting, there was a little “, and” following his name, where yours was written.

You were in awe. Technically, the two of you had both put paint onto this canvas but for him to credit you?

Stuck in front of the painting for who knows how long, you had multiple people come and pass you as you stood there. It was when a familiar voice broke you out of your daze, that you finally turned around.

“It’s my favourite piece too.”

Your stomach twisted into a big huge knot. When your eyes fell to him, you felt like you had forgotten your own name.

He looked so handsome, and maybe even nervous with the way his hands were fidgeting with each other. He had a bright yellow sweater on, collar of a shirt underneath peaking through, with some light grey trousers and a longer black jacket over everything.

His hair was falling perfectly in soft curls around his face, that sweet little smile on his lips as he met your gaze.

“I was worried you wouldn’t come…” he spoke softly, fingertips rubbing over the skin of his bottom lip.

You were sure you looked like a deer in the headlights, eyes widened as you looked at him and failing to come up with anything to say.

“I was worried you wouldn’t even see that poster I put up,” he continued, after you didn’t say anything. “And that you wouldn’t have seen the note I left.”

“Aleena,” you finally spoke, voice quiet as you turned around for a second and waved your arm around to the general space behind you to motion to wherever Aleena stood. “She showed me.”

“Good, good,” he nodded, hands clasped together as your eyes met again. “That’s good.”

A small silence hung in the air, and you wanted to sink into the ground. “I actually saw the poster first,” you blurted in a quick breath, a small sigh leaving your parted lips as you paused. “I recognized your art.”

You saw a smile dance over his features, calming you down the slightest bit. “Really?”

Nodding, you couldn’t help the way your eyes darted over his features again. “Really.”

A pause in conversation again, the two of you stood facing each other, both unsure of what to say or do. “Harry I –”

You cut yourself off, just as he started to speak. “What do you –”

Another little silence hung in the air, before you cleared your throat and spoke again. “The show – it’s really…”

Again, you found yourself unable to properly finish a sentence.

Harry rocked forward on his feet slightly, a little furrow in his brow as he watched you attentively. “Do you like it?”

“It’s so,” you glanced around, completely at a loss for words. “Harry it’s so – it’s beautiful.”

His features relaxed. “Yeah?”

You nodded, feeling your nerves calm down. “Yeah. I don’t even know how you did all this,” your words trailing off as you glanced around once more. “I mean, its all…”

“You. It’s all you.”

You didn’t think you had ever heard him speak so surely about anything. Your heart twisted and jumped in your chest, pounding so heavily that you could barely focus on your breathing.

“Harry –” your voice shook, unable to finish your sentence once more as you didn’t even know what to say and you didn’t think you could properly control your voice at the moment.

He shook his head, lips pulling a bit higher in a smile, although you could still see the way his teeth anxiously pulled at his bottom lip. “Have a look around,” he spoke softly. “We can talk after?”

You nodded lightly. You didn’t deserve him.

“After.”

[haikyuuwaifu]

CH.2

Genre: Angst, Drama

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Infidelity

MASTERLIST

Chapter 2: What are you gonna do?

It had been a week since Y/N stepped foot into her apartment. She currently sat curled up on the couch in Kiyoomi’s living room, her eyes never leaving the screen in front of her. She hadn’t shed a single tear since the day she broke down refusing to give Hajime Iwaizumi a second thought. Yachi and Kiyoko sat curled around her, snuggled close and giving their friend the comfort they knew she needed. The slamming of the front door alerted the females in attendance that someone was home. Y/N merely waved a hand, eyes never leaving the screen, and Tooru sighed softly. “She any better today?” He questioned Kiyoko quietly as the woman made her way to the kitchen to prep more snacks. Kiyoko shook her head in response, shrugging her shoulders. “She only threw her phone twice, so that’s a start?” she hoped, pulling out Y/N’s favorite bag of chips to refill the bowl. “Anything happen at school?” Yachi asked, making her way behind Oikawa to pull some drinks out of the fridge. 

The man scoffed, popping a cap off the coke bottle, and taking a long deep chug. “That asshole is playing the fucking blame game.” he seethed, slamming his drink down. “I heard him telling Terushima that he and Y/N were on a break right now, something he called for because she was “too much.” he hissed putting air quotes around the words ‘too much.’ “Then Makki and Mattsun tried spreading lies about her, but Saeko and this really hot guy in her Econ class tried to beat the shit out of them.” Kiyoko nodded along half-listening until it registered that her girlfriend now knew about the situation. “You didn’t tell Saeko what happened yet did you Tooru?” she hissed, her body turning toward Y/N to ask for her phone. 

Before Tooru could answer, the front door slammed open and Saeko Tanaka stood at the entryway, with a bat in one hand and some picture frames in the other. Y/N turned at the noise, and waved before turning back toward the television in front of her. It took her a good thirty seconds to realize her doom was standing at the door, as her head toward Saeko her eyes as wide as plates. “Get up brat!” Saeko snarled, pointing her bat towards Y/N. “You’ve been wallowing for a fucking week, and I refuse to let you wallow any longer over a fucking loser like Hajime Iwaizumi.” she growled, slamming the pictures on the ground. “Babe, maybe you sh-” Before Kiyoko could finish she was interrupted by a hiss from her girlfriend. “Absolutely not. The lot of you let her sit here and wallow for an entire week! A whole fucking week! Over a loser like Hajime Iwaizumi, when our girl has the pick of any fucking guy on campus!” she screeched, swinging the bat around. Behind her, Bokuto, Atsumu, and Sakusa had returned from practice. “And you!” she hissed, glaring at Sakusa. “You’re supposed to be her best friend, and you just let her sit here and zone out for a week; when she should be out there proving those stupid fucking rumors wrong!” Sakusa was ready to fight with Saeko, as he always was; but Y/N came between them, wrapping her arms around her angry blonde friend. “Thanks for always looking out for me.” she mumbled into the woman’s shoulder, her body shaking with quiet giggles. “Course I’m gonna look out for you brat, you’re my best friend. You have the pick of the fucking litter here, don’t let a piece of shit like Iwaizumi make you feel like you don’t.” Y/N tipped her head back, a loud laugh falling from her lips as she made her way to the kitchen. “I love the faith you seem to have in my ability to snatch up a man Saeko, but I doubt I have as many options as you say I do.” she mumbled out, missing the looks shared by the three athletes behind her. “Oh sweetheart,” Saeko cooed, “You have no idea the power you hold.” Turning around Y/N was ready to ask her friend to elaborate, but she found herself over Bokuto’s shoulder and on the way to the backyard. “Now girlie, we’re gonna smash these picture frames, and then you’re gonna tell me what your next move is gonna be.” Saeko ordered following behind the big burly man.

In a penthouse on the other side of the campus, Suna Rintaro sat with pro-streamer Kenma Kozume and his roommate Kuroo Tetsuro. The three men streamed often, and Kenma always split the money between the three of them. As they played, the answered questions from fans. As Suna looked toward the comments, he grinned at the stream of comments coming in about what Saeko and Osamu had done earlier that day. “Unfortunately, I didn’t get to see the beating; but knowing Saeko it was probably well deserved.” Suna replied, as Kenma and Kuroo turned toward the man, curiosity plain on their faces. Kenma turned toward the screen, his eyes scanning through the comments, widening slightly at the amount of comments about the fight. “What the hell did they do to piss her off?” Kenma asked, looking toward Suna for an answer. Suna grinned, happy to steer the conversation to something that he knew would cause more strife in Iwaizumi’s life. “Well, about a week ago it came to light that Hajime Iwaizumi had been stepping out on Y/N, L/N Tokyo Uni’s goddess for quite some time.” The fans went crazy, when they saw the way Kuroo snapped his controller. “He did what?” Kuroo hissed, eyes narrowing with rage. “She caught him bringing a girl back to their place.” Suna informed, smirking when he saw Iwaizumi’s username coming online. “Apparently, he had forgotten the plans they had, and brought a girl home; only for Y/N to answer the door.” Kenma scoffed, tossing his controller aside. “I always knew he didn’t deserve her. Absolute piece of shit.” he grunted, pulling his phone out to check his messages. Suna nodded in agreement, scrolling through the comments. “I told him last week, that she was fair game now, so it’s time to come up with a game plan boys.” Suna grinned, winking at the viewers in the stream. Kenma smirked, sliding his phone over to Kuroo. It was a picture of Y/N smashing pictures of her and Iwaizumi, a bottle of Tequila in one hand and a baseball bat in the other. Kuroo chuckled matching Suna’s smile. “She’s got no idea what she’s in for.” and the viewers went wild.

Iwaizumi could be found swearing and breaking things in his apartment, having watched Kenma’s stream. He knew he was absolutely fucked, if they decided they were going to pursue Y/N. He could barely stand a chance against Suna, let alone Kenma and Kuroo. Mattsun and Makki were nursing their wounds unable to fully grasp the severity of the situation at hand. Hajime still had a sliver of hope, that if he just gave Y/N the time she would forgive him. Completely unaware of the fact that he had already lost.

CHAPTER 1| CHAPTER 3

@dabilove27 @black-rose-29 @lia-faerie-queen @amberalisa @mint-mai @elianetsantana @prettyinblack231@that-chick212​ @oppositesunchild @nikkiandherrandomshits @sempiternal-amour​

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: I Have Questions ***

Non-Bearded Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning: Cursing, NSFW, SMUTTTTTT, DO NOT READ AT WORK

Words: 6.k

Summary: Steve is still acclimating to the twenty-first-century. It’s a simple fact that things in 2020 are drastically different than things in the thirties. He’s been doing what he can to learn, but today he has several questions, questions that can’t be answered so easily.

 ***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

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Steve Rogers was a man out of time; everyone knew it. Everyone knew that because of his Rapunzel like sleep, he was out of his familiar surroundings and plunged into the loud and chaotic 21st century. The century where matters and values were seriously flipped upside down. A time where family, service, and loyalty were all the rave in the thirties. In this modern era, some would debate those values and what really mattered now. Some would say success, others money, while there would be those to say satisfaction on all levels.

 Needless to say, Steve often had questions about the era and how to get on socially. Usually, he’d research, but then he’d end up asking either you or one of the others on the team. He’d learned who to go to for what, though. For questions about modern fighting, he’d seek out Clint and Nat. For his questions on tech, usually, that involved Tony. When he wanted to know more about medicine or math, Bruce came in handy. When he had the few questions about emotions, he’d find Wanda. Sometimes he’d even consult Bucky when he had questions or confusion about women. Those times he didn’t get much help because Bucky was also a man out of time. Yeah, in their time, Bucky was considered “the hot” one and had a lot more experience than he had with the ladies, but in this time, he was just as clueless maybe even a little more thanks to his conditioning to turn him into the Winter Soldier.

When he asked Sam, he’d tell him one thing; then Tony would get in on the mix and make fun of him and give him terrible advice. By the time the men of the team had finished giving advice, he was even more confused. That led you to be the one to offer up your extensive brain to help him out. You’d told him whenever he had a question, you’d be more than happy to answer it, especially if it concerned women or the other hot topic of late sex.

 Since you extended the invitation to be his life coach/twenty-first-century crash course instructor, he’d come at you with some interesting questions. It seemed he had quite a few. Once, he asked what it meant when a woman said “fine” but then acted angry the entire time after she said it. That was a fun one to explain. By the end of you telling him that “fine” was not fine and if that was said he’d already fucked up and his best bet to make it right was accepting whatever he did was wrong, apologizing for it and proceeding to smooth over his faux pas with food. That gave him a good laugh.

 There was another time he asked you why size was so important with women today. That was another fun one to answer. He’d asked you when you were around the team, and it began a whole debate. Nat said size does not matter, and it’s what you can do with what you have. The men called her out loud and proud on the bullshit and proceeded to give their own accounts of why size mattered to women, all the while voicing over the actual women in the room.

 After two hours of the men talking, nothing had been clarified, and you could tell Steve was still confused. You then took him to the side and explained why size mattered to some women while emphasizing that honestly, it wouldn’t matter to the right woman. When he asked you if it mattered to you, you were stumped how to answer. Choosing the careful route, you said size doesn’t hurt, but there are many more important things. A dagger and a sword can do the same thing, but it depends on the owner how it gets the job done. He seemed to like that answer.

You were in the kitchen of the compound that evening, grabbing yourself a snack lost in your own world. Your back was turned, and your headphones turned to their loudest setting. You danced around the kitchen happy to have some much deserved you time. The rest of the team also had the night off and were enjoying their evening outside the compound. You dropped it low and poked your ass out and wound your waist, feeling not an ounce of shame as you shook your ass while blending out the rest of your smoothie.

 Suddenly you felt a tap on your shoulders. Spinning around in your fight pose ready to kick some ass, you saw Steve standing there with his hands held high in surrender. His lips were moving, but you couldn’t hear him. Realizing you had your headphones on, you pulled one out and began questioning why he was there. You then realized you still couldn’t hear him thanks to the noise from the blender. You reached over and turned it off before looking to him.

 “What’re you doing here, Steve?”

 “Is this your idea of having fun on your night off?”

 You smirked and rolled your eyes. “Are you trying to call me boring, old man?”

 Steve snorted and shook his head. He hated it when you called him that.

 “No plans?” You shrugged and turned back to the counter to fill your waiting tumbler with the pale pink mixture.

 “I didn’t feel like going out. Sometimes a girl just needs a smoothie, quiet and--,” you trailed off before he cut you off.

 “Some time to shake her ass?”

 “Language, Cap.” He smiled again as the two of you gazed at each other for a few more seconds before you looked away.

 “What’re you doing here? I thought you had plans with Sam.”

 “I did,” Steve began before he rubbed the back of his neck and continued. “His plans took him elsewhere.”

 “Like?” Steve gave you a look, and you nodded, fulling understanding.

“Some girl’s apartment got it.”

 “Yeah.”

 “He just left you?”

 “No, no. She had a friend; I went with them back to their apartment.” You turned to him and studied him taking the time to read into his body language.

 “Did something happen with this friend. Steve?”

 He sighed and leaned on the table behind him. “I guess she had it in her mind she was going to—we were going to--,” Steve motioned his hands, hoping you got the gist. Nodding, you took a sip from your smoothie.

 “Okay. I take it that was not in your mind?”

 Steve shook his head. “I mean, she was a pretty girl, not really my type, but I overheard her talking to her friend, and she said something that had me confused.” Steve abruptly stopped what he was saying and changed direction. “I have a question. Well, two or three, really. I remember you said if I ever needed help understanding something to come to you.”

 “Yeah, yeah, absolutely,” you said after taking another gulp of your smoothie. “I’d be happy to help. What is it?”

Steve had a sheepish look on his face before he opened his mouth to speak.

 “Actually, walk with me.” You walked out of the kitchen with your smoothie in hand and Steve on your heels. The path to your room was not a long one. You wanted to be close to the kitchen. Pressing for the elevator, it opened automatically. With you and Steve inside, you pressed the next floor up.

 “Should I just fire them off?”

“Why not.” You smiled, hoping your friendly and easy-going demeanor would encourage him. Steve stared at the door but didn’t speak. When the elevator sounded and opened a few moments later, you walked off, leading him once again.

 A few seconds later, you were in front of your door. Walking inside, you waved your hand to Steve inaudibly inviting him to sit anywhere he liked. He found a seat close to a window as you pulled one up for yourself.

 “Okay. Well, to begin, what’s a G-spot, and how do I use it?” Your jaw dropped. You were on your way to sitting when the words came out, and they had you bolting right back up. He wasn’t finished, though. “What does make the pussy purr mean? Is it an actual cat? Is there a particular way women in this century want to be pleased apart from a kiss here or there, holding hands and a cuddle?”

 Your head was spinning, and your heart was racing. Steve Rogers just said pussy, you thought to yourself. You were utterly speechless. He looked so innocent sitting across from you. Innocence was a good look on him—a sexy look. You had no idea you liked the whole innocent man thing.

 “Y/N,” Steve breeched, snapping you out of your stupor. You coughed and cleared your throat loudly before you took a long sip of your smoothie through the straw and slowly sat down in front of him. It was a sip that went on and on and on as you tried to gather your thoughts.

 “Did I say something wrong?”

 Gulping down your mouthful, you shook your head. “No, no. I’m sorry I was just um—thinking how best to explain this.”

 “Is it hard to get?”

 In order to hide your smirk, you took another sip. “Okay, so—eh-ehm, the G-spot isn’t something that you can use exactly. It is a spot inside a woman.” The confusion on Steve’s face intensified. You went back to sipping your smoothie.

 This was one of those topics that you could explain, but it wouldn’t really register. Normal men couldn’t understand the g-spot, anyway, let alone someone from a time where the g-spot wasn’t even a thing. Rolling your eyes, you groaned then tried again.

 “The g-spot is a bundle of nerves inside a woman’s vagina that is also known as in this time as a pussy.” Steve’s mouth opened as his brows rose. “It’s a few inches in, and it is said to be the most sensitive part of a woman’s anatomy. It is said to bring a lot of pleasure.” Steve remained quiet for several long moments.

 “So how do I use it if it’s inside?” You facepalmed, knowing you were completely screwing this up.

 “So the vagina is the pussy? Why a pussy, though? It doesn’t look like a cat,” Steve logicized.

 You pinched your lips and tried not to laugh. He was right. It was nothing like a cat at all.

 “What about making it purr? I’ve never heard of it making a sound.”

 “Oh sweet baby Jesus,” you croaked out.

 “What about how women today like their pleasure?”

 “How did women in your time like their pleasure?

 “A little kissing here or there, hand-holding, cuddling, sweet whispers,” Steve summarized.

 Wow, you thought, he really was out of time.

 “So today it is a little—a lot different.”

 “How do you like your pleasure?”

 Stumped again, you took another sip of your smoothie and prayed for this to be over. There were two ways to each this lesson, and you were leaning toward option two.

 “Steve, I have to ask you something, and I don’t want you to take offense.”

 “You can ask me anything, Y/N.” you nodded.

 “Are you a virgin? Have you ever been with a woman past kisses here or there, hand-holding, or cuddling?”

 Steve flushed as he looked down. You’d gotten your answer.

 “I haven’t always looked like this. Back then, Bucky was the one to get all the attention. Before anything could happen, the serum happened and all the Captain America stuff. So ashamed to say it, I am a virgin,” Steve quietly admitted.

 You put your smoothie on the floor and wheeled yourself to him to rest your hand on his. “Hey, there is no reason to be ashamed. There is absolutely nothing wrong with virginity. It doesn’t mean something bad, and it is nothing to be embarrassed about. Honestly, it doesn’t even matter.”

 “So, in this time, a man who is a virgin is normal.”

 “No, not normal, but there are some men who have chosen to just not partake. What I’m saying is it’s not a big deal. It won’t stop women from wanting to ride you like a show pony.” Steve smiled, flushed again, and looked down.

 “Does that include you?”

 “Say what?”

 “Are you one of the women who would want to ride me like a show pony, although I have no idea what I’m doing?” He looked vulnerable and even shy. It was endearing to see this gorgeous, strapping, burly tree of a man who was built for every sin in the book be so self-conscious.

 “Steve, you’re an attractive man, and not to mention a pretty great one too. Safe to say my parts wouldn’t mind playing with yours.” You said it half-jokingly while adding in a chuckle or two for emphasis.

 “My parts wouldn’t mind it,” Steve muttered. It was low, but you heard it.

 “I’ve always been a visual learner. Is the same true for you?”

 “Fairly true,” Steve responded.

 Biting your bottom lip, you nodded and stood. “Okay. Stand up.”

 Steve didn’t hesitate before he stood before you with an expression that said he was open for whatever happened.

 “Because these are extreme circumstances, I can teach you the answers to your questions. Only if that is something you’re comfortable with and want,” you cautiously explained.

 “I want you.” It was flat out, straight to the point, and unexpected.

 “You do?”

Steve flushed again and smiled. “If I were honest, I’ve been attracted to you from the beginning.” It was your turn to smile like a shy schoolgirl. Steve then brushed your cheek with the back of his hand and stole your breath away during the process. Wow, you thought. Steve Rogers had game. It was him to lean into you to press his lips to yours softly. Neither of you moved for a few seconds, and then it was you who was shocked when Steve intensified the kiss. You almost snorted on his mouth; Steve Rogers could kiss and not kiss by the nineteen-thirties standards, but by twenty-twenty standards.

 You kissed him back but allowed him to keep the lead. Just because he was a virgin didn’t mean he had to play the cuck. Everything in you said Steve Rogers was an alpha. It was true about everything else, the way he fought, talked, and even operated and moved. Why would it be any different in the bedroom? Though the kiss felt dominating, it still had hints of timidness. He was not sure of himself. You liked it. Lacing your fingers at the back of his head and into his hair, you dipped your tongue into his mouth to slowly coax his. When your tongue wrapped around his and then gently sucked Steve moaned. It was the sexiest sound you’d heard in a long time.

 Slowly you pulled back to look at him, and slowly, he opened his eyes. “Wow can’t believe we’re doing this,” Steve whispered. You smiled.

 “We won’t go too fast, I promise. How about we start with your questions.”

 “G-Spot,” Steve began. Another soft smile teased your lips.

 “We’ll get there. The particular question we’ll start on is if there is a particular way women in this century want to be pleased,” you whispered. Steve audibly gulped. It was the cutest thing.

 “O—okay.” You slid your hands up over his chest, thoroughly enjoying the feel of his muscles underneath his shirt.

 You’d seen Steve shirtless quite a few times. The majority of it was when he was injured and getting patched up before he miraculously healed in record time. Slowly you undid the buttons to his pale-colored striped button-down.

 “When it comes to women in this century, you’ll find you have to trial and error. What works for one woman doesn’t necessarily work for the other. So what works for me--.” Steve cut you off.

 “I only care about what works for you, no others.” Smiling, you placed a mental check next to eager to please. You liked it, that trait would come in handy. Steve bit his bottom lip as you pushed the shirt off his body. You took the time to admire every perfect dip and curve of his frame. He was gorgeous. You allowed your hands to be your second set of eyes and traced his skin.

 “Am I to your liking?”

 Snorting, you shook your head. “You’re to every woman’s liking Steve.”

 “I don’t care about every woman.” He was definitely a sweet talker.

 “You’re hot.” He smiled then licked his lips until he sucked in his bottom one into his mouth. You almost got lost but focused on the mission at hand. You brought your lips to his and took control this time, but only for a few moments before you kissed a path down his chest to his abs. You could feel the nervous energy in his body, and it made you smile.

 Standing again, you looked into his eyes while you began unbuckling his belt and undoing his dockers.

 “Does this—bring you pleasure?” His voice was shaky.

 “Some, plus taking all of this off, increases intimacy. There is nothing like skin on skin contact.”

 Dropping down to the floor, you pulled his pants down to reveal white micro boxer briefs. You were relieved, you had no idea if he were a tidy whities kind of man or boxers, this was a happy medium for you. Standing, Steve did the rest by kicking the material and his shoes to the side.

 “Feeling up to doing me?” you raised your hands above your head and waited for him to decide. Something told you this would be his first time undressing a woman. You wanted him to have the full experience even though it was a t-shirt and sweats he was pulling off.

 When his fingers grazed your abdomen, he hesitated for a brief second before he slowly lifted it up your torso and over your head. When you were free of it, he took in the sight of you in your bra, and you gave him some time to have his fill. When he didn’t move again, you took his hands and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your sweats, encouraging him to discard them as well. Slowly Steve pulled the garment down over your his and your legs. When you felt his lips on your stomach, you gasped. It was an unexpected action.

 “Was that okay?”

 “It was fine.” Steve did it again and again until he’d peppered kisses all across your stomach. The action was so simple, so innocent, but they felt incredible.

 Pulling him up, you pressed your body to his while wrapping your arms around him to kiss him. In a matter of seconds, the kiss had turned into a passionate interlude that had both of you moaning on each other’s lips. When you felt Steve’s hands touch your waist for the first time, you moaned deeply and melted into him. He held you with power. There were so many things that contradicted his virgin status. Both of you got lost in the kiss. The longer it went on, the more invested in it Steve became. Soon he was expertly stealing your breath.

 When you began backing away with him still in your arms, Steve followed you, never breaking the kiss. You felt your bed at the backs of your knees and stopped pulling your lips away. He was flushed and looked very much ready for the next step. Sitting at the edge, you slid back onto it, never taking your eyes off of his. This was when he looked like a fish out of water.

 “It’s okay. Come here.”

 Slowly Steve crawled across to bed to you. As he got closer, you parted your legs, making space for him. When he nestled there, he groaned. “You’re beautiful, Y/N.” you smiled your thank you.

 “What do you wanna do?”

 “What? I thought you were shooing me about your pleasure.”

 “I am, but this is a first for you. so, what do you wanna do?”

 He was quiet for a few seconds. “Please you.” you kissed him and snuggled in the bed.

 “I want you to explore. Kiss wherever you’d like, lick what you want, whatever you’d like.”

 “I don’t know if I have the strength,” Steve confessed. Caressing his cheek, you smiled.

 “Let me start you off.” You took his hand and placed it over one of your breasts. His hand was so large that it looked like it belonged on your body. Steve’s eyes dropped to your breast and his hand. It was several long moments before he moved. When he did, he slowly massaged your breast. He took his time to move it in a circle testing it, and getting familiar with the feel of it. Once he did, he squeezed. You moaned.

 “I like these.” You snorted and shook your head.

 “Congratulations, you fit right into the twenty-first century.”  Steve continued exploring your breast and wreaking havoc on your desires at the same time. You were slowly losing your mind.

 “Try two hands.” Steve wasted no time complying with your suggestion. Allowing him to continue his discovery of a woman’s body—your body you tried your best to keep your wants in check.

 When you couldn’t, you moaned loudly. Steve’s eyes shot to yours. “Do you like that?” Nodding your head gave him the needed encouragement to continue.

 “Try taking it off.” Steve studied the bra you wore for a while before he attempted to take it off. When it didn’t come off the first attempt, he pulled at it and ripped it clear off.

 “Oh my, I’m so sorry.” You couldn’t help but laugh.

 “It’s okay. I mean you can rip tree stumps in half why did I think my bra had a chance? He smiled before he realized you were bare before him. Any amusement in his face disappeared as he took you in.

 “Wow,” Steve marveled. Before you could say anything, he cupped your breasts and slowly massaged them before he circled his thumb around your hardened nipple. Sucking in a breath, you slightly arched jutting them out more for him. Steve grunted and watched your reaction. When he pinched your nipple, you bit your bottom lip and rolled your eyes closed.

 “Mmm.” It was enough for him because the minute you felt his mouth around your nipple, you whimpered.

 He took his time testing what you liked, testing what he liked. Before long, he had moan after moan and whimper after whimper falling from your lips. He stopped momentarily to pinch your nipples again using the leftover wetness to aid him in bringing you closer to your release.

 “I really like these,” Steve whispered, lowering his lips to your neck. He sucked the flesh into his mouth and found a level of suction that had goosebumps scattering across your skin.

 “Either you’re not such a virgin, or you’re just really good with your mouth.” Steve smiled widely before he shrugged. When he did, he dipped lower to your stomach and kissed a path to the apex of your thighs. Before he made any moves, he looked to you as if for consent.

 “That first question and the one about what it means to make the pussy purr can be answered together. It all depends on if you’re up for it.”

 Steve had a mischievous glint in his eye and a devilish smirk on his lips. Innocent and sinful was a sexy mix for him; it was one that you couldn’t get enough of. “I promised you not too fast,” you finished.

 Steve kissed your hip, then your pelvis, and nipped your skin. “I think I can keep up.” It was a simple response, but it filled you with so much excitement. You didn’t know how this was happening. You were the one who had all the experience. You weren’t an expert in pleasure, but you sure knew how to make a man tick and get yourself off. With him, the smallest action had triple the effect it ever did before.

 “Take em’ off.” If it was possible to see someone’s heart skip a beat, you saw his do just that.

 Steve brought his hands to the waistband of your underwear, but he didn’t touch it or you, instead he allowed them to hover. He looked as if he was having an internal battle. You were sure he was going back and forth with his insecurities and his desires. You didn’t want to rush his decision because it was an important one.

 When he made the decision, his fingers curled around the material and pulled it down a few inches before stopping again. He looked at you, and you saw his anxiety. Wrapping your hands with his, you helped glide the fabric from your waist and down your legs. Once free, you parted your legs for him, giving him the first intimate sight of you.

 Steve looked speechless and enflamed. You laid there, giving him as much time as he needed. He raised his fingers and grazed them against your skin. Sucking in a sharp breath, you bit your finger.

 “You’re fine,” you whispered, answering the question in his eyes.

 “What do I do?”

 “Whatever you want. You can kiss, you can lick, you can suck, nibble—whatever you want, Steve.”

 “What do you like?”

 You smiled and reached down to take his hand to place it between your legs. They were so warm and surprisingly soft. You used two of his fingers to lightly trail against your labia. Slowly you went up, and down the flesh, each pass had you shivering. Steve alternated looking at your face and between your legs, learning your reactions.

 After a few moments, he took control of the movements. Each swipe of his fingers had him coming closer and closer to your sensitive bud that was begging for some attention. You wanted to let him discover it on his own. As soon as you thought it, Steve’s other hand got into the mix. He spread you wide then brought his lips to your skin to kiss your pubis. The anticipation was killing you.

 Steve trailed kisses across your skin, leading to your pelvis and your inner thigh before he returned to the starting point. When his tongue made connection with your clit, you gasped loudly and arched your head back.

 “Was that good?”

 “Jesus, you’re driving me fucking crazy. Yes, that was good.” Steve did it again and watched you clamp down on your bottom lip.

 “So good,” you whispered while watching his every move. Steve crooked his tongue, making a hook at the tip and licked across your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. Your hands instinctively flew to his head to keep his mouth where you wanted it.

 Steve took the hint and swirled his tongue around your flesh, all the while steadily increasing his suction. It felt amazing. His actions were less polished and deliberate, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t bringing you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy. He was finding his rhythm. When he slurped on your sex, you lost your shit and began bucking against his mouth. Steve gripped your hips firmly and got into it. Steve gently bit you, making you flinch but not from pain.

 Did I do--.” Before he could finish the question, you pulled his head back down and continued bucking your hips and swiping your wetness across his lips. Steve kept up and quickly flicked his tongue against you.

 “Fuck!” It was a desperate whimper, one that was the indication you were going to come.

 “Stick your tongue out, Steve.” Doing as he was told, you shamelessly used his beautiful face to find your release. When you felt Steve cup your breast and pinch your nipple, you saw stars and came right on his skillful tongue.

 “Fuuuck! Oh my god,” you groaned out, dropping back to the bed.

 “Jesus, that is—making the pussy—purr.” Steve scoffed and shook his head before he kissed your clit once, then twice. Each time it had you shivering.

 “Any questions?”

 Steve smiled and crept up onto his knees, giving you the perfect view of his hardened length. Super serum or not, you didn’t care. He was blessed.

 “More a comment. You taste incredible.” Your blush was evident.

 “Aw Captain, you know just the right thing to say.” His smile was adorably shy.

 “I think I’ve got it, but there’s still that question about the G-spot.” You smiled; he was like a dog with a bone.

 “Come here, captain.” Steve lowered himself onto you, allowing you to kiss him. Both of you quickly got lost in the kiss yet again. This time his kisses weren’t timid; they were confident, even a little dominating. This man was made for kissing. Using your feet, you peeled off his underwear until he was free to kick them off. You could feel the heaviness of his cock resting against your inner thigh, and it made you want him even more.

 Steve pulled his lips from you and sighed out heavily. “What’s wrong?”

 “Control has always been a thing for me, but with you—right now, I’m struggling,” he admitted.

Caressing his cheek adoringly, you smiled. “You’re not the only one struggling, Steve.” He searched your eyes for any hint of a lie. When he found none, he looked relieved. Nodding, you kissed him again and peeped between your bodies down to what the good Lord blessed him with. He was blessed beyond belief.

 “Is size still not important to you?” You snorted and buried your face in his shoulder. You’d been caught.

 “Nope, I told you, a dagger and a sword do the same thing.” You reached between you and wrapped your hand around his length. Once you touched him, Steve’s eyes closed, and he sighed out. Slowly you stroked him and watched his every reaction. Your hand couldn’t fully fit around him. There were still about two inches of him left. You wondered if he’d done this for himself since he’d woken from his cryo state.

 “How do you like it, Steve?” His eyes fluttered open, but he didn’t speak, he stared deeply into your eyes as the muscles in his jaw jumped. It was then he took your hand from him and pressed it to the bed.

 “Maybe another time.” You found it interesting, but you didn’t take offense. You knew there was more to it than “another time.” His eyes roamed over your naked body before they stopped between your legs where his cock hovered right before its prize.

 “Take what you want, Steve,” you teased.

 When you felt him at your opening, you took a deep breath and held it. You bit your bottom lip to brace yourself and watched him slide the first few inches inside your wet heat. Steve moaned out, but it quickly turned to a groan that blended with yours. He was bigger than you’d ever had, but you didn’t want to let on that you worried he was too big. The more he eased into you, the louder he got, and the louder he got, the closer you were to falling apart. Steve’s hands were planted into the mattress, giving you a mind-numbing view of those strong muscles in his arms shoulders and chest. You could never get tired of this view, you thought.

 Steve grunted and dropped his head to your breasts, burying his face between them. “You’re so—it’s so—you’re--.” He sounded like he was barely hanging on. Both of you stilled and allowed several long moments to pass as you adjusted to the new sensations. Steve slowly pulled back, but your body must have felt as if it were losing him, and you clenched around his length. Steve growled loudly, stopped his retreat, and slammed into you, fully connecting your bodies. You screamed out from shock, pain, and pleasure. It was familiar, but it was also unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

 “Fuck!” It was loud and full of emotion.

 Shocked, you looked clenched around him again. Curse words from Captain America was the best thing in the world and the only aphrodisiac a woman needed.

 “Jesus, Y/N, don’t do that. I’m barely hanging on by a thread here,” Steve grunted against your skin.

 “Sorry.” Slowly Steve pulled out of you and sank back in only to do it again. Every time he connected your bodies, he shuddered.

 When he looked at you again, you could see just how close he was. “How do—you like—it?” He spoke through gritted teeth.

 “Any way you give it to me,” you responded, emphasizing you, so he understood. He crashed his lips to yours and took full control. When his hands gripped your wrists and pressed them above your head, you clenched around him again because of the strong alpha vibes he was giving off.

 Steve hissed out, but his thrusts sped to a pace you were not ready for. His pace sent your breasts swinging and had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Suddenly you felt him nudge that spot he was so curious about, and you screeched out. Steve slowed and looked at you. He must have known it. He mercilessly did it again and again until your legs were wrapped so tightly around him that they mirrored how tightly you clenched his thick length within you. Steve grunted with each slam of his hips into your core, and it was then you came gripping him hard.

 “Aaah!” You felt his release; it was a release that seemed to go on forever. He thrust forward, still trying to bury himself deep within you even when there was nowhere else for him to go. Each movement sent you further over that edge.

 Steve collapsed on top of you and sucked your nipple into his mouth. If he continued doing that, you would be ready for round two in seconds. As you thought about round two, you realized he was still hard.

 “I’m sorry that was so quick. I didn’t--.” You pulled his face to yours and kissed him passionately, so he knew just what he’d done to you.

 “That was amazing. You are amazing for a man that is one hundred years old.” Steve snorted and groaned, dropping his forehead to your chest again.

 “Mmmm, plus, I don’t think not so little Steve is finished yet.” Steve looked back to you with his eyebrow crooked, giving you a spark to jumpstart your arousal.

 “Did I answer all your questions?”

 Steve smiled widely again before he pulled a few inches out of you to slowly slide himself back in with a languid groan. “Well, I how to please the only woman I care about, just how to use that g-spot and how to make your pussy purr,” Steve began. You couldn’t help but laugh out loud. It was going to take some getting used to hearing him speak like this.

 “I know all of this, but shit, I wanna know more.”

 Your jaw dropped. “Language, Cap! My goodness, who knew you had such a dirty mouth.” Steve smiled again and kissed you.

 “Must be the company I keep, such a bad influence,” he teased as he kissed down to your neck.

 “Oh really, little ol me corrupting you?”

 “Mm-hm.” Steve was only half listening as he briefly lowered his lips to your breasts before he was on the move again, making his way to the place you suspected would become his favorite place in the world.

 “Did you pee?”

 Scoffing, you shook your head and tried to figure out how to explain and teach him about squirting. “Nope, it’s not pee.”

 The look on his face was a curious one, and you knew this was going to be yet another lesson he would love.

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

Thank you guys for reading!❤️❤️

[awhitehead17]

For the prompts: how about Jay taking care of Tim when he’s having a rough day?

Thank you for the prompt! So this turned out longer than I planned for it too and also a lot more angsty than expected but that’s balanced out with comfort and fluff! I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! :D

As he taps the pen rhythmically against a piece of paper, Jason stares at the laptop in front of him, trying to make sense on what he’s looking at. He’s got multiple police reports up on the screen as he tries to cross reference notes on a recent case he’s tied up in as the Red Hood.

While his reputation says otherwise, Jason does in fact do his homework on cases before he dives into beating the bad guys asses. He was raised by the world’s greatest detective after all.

A sudden bang snaps Jason out of his thoughts and he looks away from the computer with a frown. When a second bang sounds out, shortly after the first, Jason gets up to his feet in order to go and investigate the sounds which he thinks were coming from the hallway.

As he crosses the living room and gets closer to the hallway he hears someone mumbling underneath their breath. Whoever it is they were using many different swear words and curses and were very clearly pissed at something.

Bracing himself for the worst, Jason steps out into the hallway and freezes at the unexpected sight. Tim’s standing at the door, angrily swearing to himself as he roughly yanks off his tie and as he kicks off his shoes. He looks awful and if the angry vibe was anything to go by, he hasn’t had a great day either.

“Tim?” He speaks up getting the attention of his younger brother.

The kid instantly stops his stream of curses and snaps his head up, his eyes go wide as he spots Jason standing somewhat awkwardly in the doorway to the living room.

“Jason? What are you doing here?” His tone was sharp and if Jason didn’t know him better he would think that Tim is accusing him of something. But he does know Tim and he knows that the tone is the result of a long and exhausting day. Jason doesn’t take any offense but it does cause his concern to grow.

“I’m working on a case and this apartment is the closest to the base of operations – are you okay?” Jason starts explaining but gives up halfway through, he needs to know what’s going on with Tim. “What’s with all the swearing? That isn’t like you.”

A heavy silence falls between them and all Tim does is unsettlingly blinks at him. Before Jason could push for an answer Tim is huffing and throwing his bag down on the ground. As if that treatment wasn’t enough, he kicks the thing and pins Jason with a hard and furious look.

“You want to know what’s wrong Jason? Everything! That’s what! Everything is wrong and I’m just done with it.”

Jason only has a second to register the words before his brother is storming past him and further into the apartment. Currently unsure on what to do, Jason wordlessly follows Tim as they go through the living room and into the kitchen.

He stares as Tim unnecessarily slams cupboard doors shut and aggressively goes through the process of making a coffee. Jason’s surprised the mug doesn’t smash with how hard Tim slams it onto the counter.

This certainly wasn’t expected. He had been expecting Tim to turn up at some point during the evening, it’s his apartment after all, but he hadn’t been prepared for Tim to come home in a bad temper. It’s not often that Tim gets into bad moods like this. It takes a lot to rile up his usually level-headed brother so the fact that Tim is like this means that something major has happened which has placed him in this mood.

As far as he knows, no one has died so that’s not a reason behind the mood. Could it be work related? Tim’s in a suit meaning he’s been to the office that day so that’s a protentional explanation. It may be family related? Either Damian, Dick or Bruce may have pissed him off recently. Or perhaps it’s a mixture of things that have been building up over time and today just happens to be his final breaking point.

While Jason would like to know the reason behind this mood, he also knows that it’s not really his business and that he shouldn’t push the issue. What he does know is that he needs to make sure Tim stays safe and looks after himself. Jason needs to get him calmed down and maybe talk about what’s happened. Talking helps, or so he’s told. He’s never been one to listen to that advice himself but it may help Tim out.

“Why are you still here?”

Jason’s line of thoughts are broken when Tim snaps at him. His brother is now glaring at him while he leans against the counter with a mug of coffee in his hands. Jason feels himself bristle at Tim’s tone, he hasn’t done anything to deserve the snappiness. He knows he shouldn’t put up with the attitude but instead of retaliating he takes a deep breath and gets his emotions under control. Something has happened and Tim’s current way of coping with it is by lashing out and Jason just happens to be there.

Knowing that Tim isn’t likely to talk about whatever is up with him, Jason decides on a different approach. Ignoring the tension in the atmosphere, he wonders over to the fridge and starts browsing its contents.

“Have you eaten today? It’s about dinner time and I’m starving.” He says conversationally but isn’t expecting a response. He spots some cheese in the fridge and gets an idea. “How about pasta with a cheese sauce? Hopefully you have all of the ingredients needed.”

He grabs a few items and places them on the side and starts rummaging through the cupboards looking for the things needed. The entire time he ignores the death glare Tim is sending him from his place against the counter.

By the time Tim next speaks up, Jason had found everything he needed and has started to prep the ingredients.

“Jason, what the hell are you doing? What makes you think you have the right to come in here and prance around like you own the place!”

Telling himself to not fall for the bait, Jason hums to himself and continues with the prep. “Making dinner Timmy, what does it look like?”

A loud thump gets his attention and Jason peers over at Tim to find that he had slammed his mug down onto the side. Jason knows he’s pushing his luck but he’s hoping if he puts Tim’s stubbornness to the test his attitude will break and then Jason will be able to have a civil conversation with him. Call it tough love if you will.

His brother opens his mouth to say something else but Jason stops him from doing so. He places the knife down on the cutting board and stalks over to Tim, placing his hands on his shoulder’s Jason steers him out of the kitchen and towards the living room.

“While I get dinner ready, you go and have a shower and dress into some comfy clothes. I’ll have this ready by the time you’re finished.”

“Absolutely not! You can’t tell me what to do, this is fucking ridiculous. You’re-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jason interrupts firmly, lowering his tone so Tim gets the message, “and the longer we stand here arguing about it the longer it’s going to complete dinner.”

Tim’s face scrunches up in obvious distaste. His lips pull back in a snarl and in an uncharacteristic action he shoves Jason backwards before storming away, screaming over his shoulder “I hate you!”

Jason takes another breath and reminds himself to not take it to heart, Tim doesn’t mean it. In the distance he hears another door slam shut and figures Tim must have gone to the bedroom or bathroom. With not a lot of other options Jason turns back to the kitchen, he has a pasta dish to finish after all.

----

“I’m sorry.”

Jason glances up from where he was placing two plates full of pasta on the table in the living room. He spots Tim standing in the doorway and Jason instantly notices the difference in his stance compared to earlier.

Tim’s shoulders were hunched over, he had his arms wrapped around himself, he’s looking everywhere but at Jason and his voice was quiet and sounded defeated. It’s like all of the fight has finally drained out of him, leaving him feeling exhausted and depleted. It’s not surprising because it’s exactly what Jason had been after, even if it does break his heart to see his brother look so withdrawn.

Instead of pointing it out, he gestures to the table. “Just in time, foods ready.”

Tim shakes his head. “Look Jason you don’t have to-”

Jason cuts him off. “I know I don’t have to but I want to. Now eat and then we can talk properly.”

Understanding that he isn’t going to win Tim trudges over to the table and slumps into a chair. They don’t converse while they eat but to fill the silence they put the TV on which makes good background noise.

Once they were finished Jason gathers up the dishes and takes them into the kitchen before heading back to the living room, he’ll clean them up later. Tim hadn’t moved in that short time so what Jason does is grab a chair and places it backwards in front of Tim. He sits down and leans his arms on the back of the chair and looks at his brother.

In a gentle tone he prods Tim carefully. “Have you calmed down now?” Tim mutely nods, still refusing to look at him. “Okay good. Now you don’t have to but would you like to talk about what all that attitude was about? What happened Tim, it isn’t like you to snap like that.”

He sees Tim visibly swallow and take a deep breath, clearly preparing himself to talk. Jason doesn’t push him, he patiently waits for Tim to open up himself.

“I’m sorry.” Tim says again. “I – it just. Jesus I don’t even know. It’s been a shitty day, a shitty week, and today I just snapped and then I took it out on you which you really didn’t deserve so I apologize for that and for what I said. I don’t hate you and you know you’re more than welcome at any of my apartments.”

Jason couldn’t help but frown as Tim rambles on explaining his week and the events leading up to the boiling point. He tells Jason it had gotten to the point where any little thing had begun to piss him off, even the sound of the coffee machine at work was annoying him.

Tim ends his explanation by burying his head in his arms on top of the table.

Sighing Jason stands up from the chair and steps towards Tim, wordlessly he pulls his brother up to his feet and gathers him into a tight hug. Tim doesn’t fight it, his arms immediately wrap around Jason and he buries his face into his chest. To his surprise Tim doesn’t cry but he does cling onto him like a lifeline, all Jason can do is hug him back just as tight.

Resting his cheek on top of Tim’s slightly damp hair he says, “You are not going on patrol tonight. You may be calmer than earlier but you’re still not in the right frame of mind to go out. Instead what we’re going to do is stick a film on and then do absolutely nothing. Tomorrow is a new day and things will be better. We can work out all the details leading up to this later on.”

It takes a moment but Tim nods his understanding into Jason’s chest. It proves Jason’s point that Tim needs the rest because he didn’t even try to protest against the idea. He squeezes Tim one more time before letting him go.

“Okay, now go choose a film while I clear the dishes then I’ll join you.”

Tim nods again but before Jason could leave the room his brother is speaking up. “Again Jason, thank you. I don’t know why you put up with that shit I gave you but I really appreciate you not lashing out and putting your foot down. So thank you, I’ll make it up to you.”

Jason snorts. “No thanks needed Timbers. You’ve done just as much, if not more, for me in the past. It’s time to live up to the big brother title.” That gets Tim to crack a smile. With that achieved Jason finally leaves the room, telling Tim a second time to choose a film.

He hopes he can help Tim further than what he’s done so that night. He hadn’t even known if his chosen method would work or not but he’s glad it somewhat has. He’ll have another talk with the kid in the morning when they’ve rested and had more time to reflect on what’s happened.

[bloodfromthethorn]

Friendly Fire

Mac tries very hard not to make mistakes, because whenever he does, people always, always get hurt.  An army days fic.

Part thirteen of the July of Whump 2021 prompt challenge.

Also on AO3.

..

Despite what a lot of people seemed to believe, Mac did make mistakes. It didn’t happen all that often because he was viscerally aware that a lot of what he did was dangerous to more than just himself and that meant that you goddamn checked your working, but he wasn’t infallible. When he’d been younger, those mistakes had usually been small things, like falling out of a tree because he’d misjudged the distance between two branches or not picking up on his father’s mood quickly enough to avoid a lecture, but there had been some big blowouts too. The football field was probably the crowning example, but it wasn’t the only one.

Then he’d joined the army and been sent into the desert and suddenly the idea of making a mistake went from ‘possibly dangerous’ to ‘will almost certainly cost lives’. It was around that time that he started triple checking his working, just to be sure.

Which made it all the more horrifying when he did finally screw something up badly enough to get someone hurt. And, just in case that wasn’t punishment enough for his own stupidity and hubris, of course that someone would be Jack. Of fucking course.

..

He dug through the rubble like a man possessed, tearing open a gouge on his hand as he did so but not faltering for even a single second.

“Jack!” He didn’t dare raise his voice too high just in case any hostiles had survived the blast, but he needed his Overwatch to answer him. Since the wall had come down, he hadn’t heard a peep. “C’mon Dalton, you’re not going out like this. You do not get to die on me.”

He scrabbled for a moment against a chunk of sundried stone just a little too heavy for him to comfortably shift, then was rewarded with the smallest sliver of desert camo. More carefully, he tossed aside some of the smaller bricks, uncovering a gloved hand to go along with the arm he’d first seen. From there it was the matter of moments to clear the rest of Jack’s body, quietly thankful with each new revelation that at the very least he was still in one piece. Bruised and bloody, but whole.

And still not waking up. Maybe Mac wasn’t so relieved after all.

“Jack? Dalton? Can you hear me?” He felt for a pulse, gusting out a pained sigh when he finally found it – a little too fast for his liking, but strong all the same. “Thank god,” he breathed quietly.

There was blood around Jack’s eye from a gash on his forehead, with more dripping from a split lip, but otherwise he looked remarkably alright. No doubt his combat gear and dust coated skin was hiding a multitude of bruises and possible broken bones, but at the very least he wasn’t in danger of bleeding out. Or- well. A thought suddenly occurred to Mac and he spent the next ten seconds wrestling with Jack’s vest to get at his stomach to search for any signs of severe internal bleeding, not relaxing until his search turned up nothing more than unbroken skin.

“Okay,” he said more to himself than his unconscious partner. “We’ve got to get out of here. Stayed too long as it is.”

A glance around didn’t turn up anything he could conveniently use as a litter. He was thoroughly unwilling to leave Jack’s side while he was so defenceless, particularly when hostiles might be closing in, so that meant they were doing this the hard way. He started by untangling Jack’s rifle and making sure the safety was on before setting it carefully on the ground beside him; Jack would be giving him hell for messing with it, but if that was an argument he wanted to have then he was just damn well going to have to wake up and have it, wasn’t he?

Next came the man himself. Even though Mac was technically classified as a non-combatant, he’d still had to go through Basic with all the other recruits, so he’d done plenty of fireman’s lifts before. None of them had really prepared him for the added weight of responsibility he felt as soon as Jack was on his shoulders. He’d always considered their partnership to be two-way: Jack protected Mac and Mac protected Jack right back. It had never really felt this literal before though. Normally his protection came in the form of defusing a bomb before it went off, not bearing the man’s limp weight as they moved through hostile territory when at any minute a bullet could come their way.

But now wasn’t the time to be frozen by indecision and fear. Certainly not when he had to contend with the not inconsiderable weight of Jack and his gear, and then had to juggle his rifle in his free hand. Now was the time for action.

Without stopping to overthink it, he hitched Jack up a little higher and took off in the direction of their Humvee.

..

No doubt he made a hell of a scene pulling into camp and skidding the vehicle to a stop beside the medical tent, but by that point he was far too wound up to care. Jack hadn’t so much as stirred once, and while his breathing and heart rate were holding steady, Mac could feel his skin crawling with the awful sense that maybe something was critically wrong after all.

As soon as the Humvee came to a stop, he was on his feet and shouting, summoning the random assortment of medical staff who happened to be both in earshot and available. On the other side of the ‘road’, a handful of signalmen poked their heads out of the communications tent to see what was going on. Mac barely spared them a glance – all he cared about was getting Jack inside and to help as quickly as humanly possible and then finding somewhere quiet so he could have a breakdown in peace.

To that end, he hauled Jack back up onto his shoulders and met the medical staff halfway, breathlessly explaining what had happened. A gurney was unceremoniously shoved in front of him and he carefully tipped his charge down onto it. The second Jack was down, the staff were pulling him away, whisking him off for an examination inside. He took half a step to follow, but was immediately blocked by one of the nurses.

“Sir, are you injured?”

Mac barely spared the Private a glance, trying to push past but getting stopped by a firm hand on his chest. “No, I’m fine, but he’s my Overwatch, I have to-”

“Specialist,” the nurse said sharply, moving with him to keep him from getting past. “Your partner is getting the best care he can. If you’re not injured, you’ll need to report in. Only medical staff and patients are allowed past this point.”

A prickle-hot wave of frustration raced through Mac at being denied access to his partner, but it was almost immediately chased away by a wash of cold when he properly registered what the man had said. ‘You’ll need to report in.’ Of course that’s what he needed to do – standard protocol and all that. Theoretically he was already in violation of his orders by not having turned on his heel the instant Jack was in the hands of the medical staff, although he was pretty sure he could be forgiven in this particular instance.

But even then, he needed to report in. He had to walk up to his commanding officer and explain that because of his own stupidity and carelessness, he might just have gotten his own partner killed. Jack wasn’t well liked by the Brass, exactly, but he was certainly well respected and now Mac had to walk up to the Major and explain just how badly he’d fucked up. And then, assuming that didn’t get him transferred or demoted or fucking arrested, he was going to have to walk into the barracks filled with Jack’s friends and hope that none of them decided revenge was a dish best served hot. The Brass might not like Jack too well, but the men sure did.

Well, at least he had one thing going for him: since they were in the FOB and not the main operating base, he wouldn’t have to report directly to the Colonel. Small mercies.

“Specialist?” The nurse was saying, apparently alarmed by his sudden freeze. “Are you injured?”

“N-No,” he managed when he finally managed to find his voice again. The nurse didn’t look convinced, so he repeated himself more firmly. “No, I’m fine. You’re right, I need to report. Just- Look after him, okay?”

The nurse’s severity and concern fell away under a blanket of reassurance, his expression turning soft. “We will, don’t you worry. I’ll make sure someone lets you know when he gets moved to the ward, okay? You’ll be able to visit him then.”

Barely clinging to the present moment, all Mac could do was nod. The nurse gave him an appraising look, but whatever it was that Mac was projecting apparently passed muster because he nodded sharply and backed off, giving him one last glance before ducking into the tent and disappearing. For a long moment, Mac just stared at the spot where he’d been in the hopes that if he waited long enough, his brain might kick into gear before he had to face the Major.

Of course, it didn’t happen.

In a daze, he backed up from the entrance to the medical tent, glancing about in sudden self-awareness but finding himself mostly alone. The few people he could see appeared to be going about their days as normal, not paying him the slightest bit of attention.

Right. Things to do. No matter what had just happened, he was still on duty. He had work to be doing.

With a firm mental shake, he forced himself to climb back into the Humvee and drive it over to the much more suitable parking lot. He procrastinated for a few minutes then, sorting out his and Jack’s stuff and making sure the equipment he’d collected earlier that morning was still secure. It already felt like a thousand years ago. That done, he checked the vehicle in with the mechanics and headed to the command tent to face his fate.

..

Mac had never had much cause to interact with Major Torres beyond receiving the occasional direct mission brief or having to give an in-person report when a mission went sideways. Both cases usually ended up being pretty stressful affairs, either because there was a lot on the line or because Mac had to own up to some hare-brained scheme that would probably have gotten him court marshalled twenty times over if his skillset hadn’t been in such high demand. The result was that almost all of Mac’s recollections of the Major were coloured in shades of concern and unhappiness, despite the man himself having never done anything particularly bad to Mac himself. On the contrary, the man had been ridiculously forgiving of some of the shit Mac had tried to pull in the past.

Nonetheless, as he stood in front of him now, he couldn’t help but feel incredibly small.

“So you arrived in Sakini at 1300 hours?”

“Yes sir.”

“What was the situation on the ground?”

“At first, quiet. There were a couple of locals around, but they didn’t appear armed and they didn’t visibly react to our presence at all.”

“At first?”

Mac swallowed, willing himself to keep his thoughts in the right order. The last thing he needed was to add ‘filing an inaccurate report’ to his list of transgressions. “Jack – Sergeant Dalton – went out to do a survey of the area. I stayed back in the vehicle. When he deemed it was clear, he called me out while he set up on the roof of a building in- the town square, I guess.” He pointed at the appropriate place on the map, well aware that the handful of buildings hardly constituted a town, much less one in possession of anything resembling a square, but the building Jack had chosen had good sightlines and that was the main point.

“You went looking for the IED.”

“Yes.”

“Did you encounter any resistance?”

“No. The locals all kept out of my way, but not so much so I thought they were actively avoiding me. More like they just didn’t want to get involved in our business.”

“But you did find a device?”

“Yes sir, but not for an hour or so. It had been tucked into the gap between two buildings and blocked off with crates. Just getting to it took longer than it should have done.”

Torres’ expression twisted in something that might have been sympathy. Two US soldiers alone in possibly hostile territory for over an hour was never the start of a happy story.

“Once I did get to it,” Mac continued, bracing himself, “I was able to disarm it pretty quickly. The device was well hidden, but not particularly well built. It had a single failsafe, but compared to a lot of what we’ve been seeing recently, it was surprisingly basic.”

Evidently, his opinion was not welcome; the Major’s face darkened. “If that’s the case, then why is one of my men in the infirmary following an explosion, Specialist?”

He ducked his head on instinct, shame and fear washing over him afresh. It didn’t matter; what had happened, happened, and beating around the bush now wasn’t going to change that.

“Because I messed up, sir,” he said honestly. “The device was successfully disarmed, but before I could pack it up, Sergeant Dalton alerted me to hostiles closing in on our position. One of them must have been watching Sakini in case we showed up. There were too many of them for Jack to safely deal with alone and they were between us and our transport, so I came up with a plan to funnel them into a small space, and then trigger the explosion. It seemed like our best shot of taking them all out at once, so Jack agreed.”

Torres nodded, but didn’t interject with his own opinion.

Mac cleared his throat. “I needed a minute to rearm the device, and we needed to make sure they all got into position, so Jack acted as the bait. He took a few pot shots at them to get their attention, then made a run for it. Thankfully, they followed. I planted the device at a weak point on the building’s exterior, armed it, and retreated.”

“Dalton didn’t have time to clear the building?”

If Mac had been a little more dishonest – and perhaps less certain that he wouldn’t immediately get caught in the lie – he might have said yes. It still put him on the hook for blowing up his Overwatch, but it still felt a little less like a crushing failure on his part. But that wasn’t who Mac was, and even if it had been, it certainly wasn’t who Jack was, and the second he woke up he’d be asked to give his own account of things. The only way forward was the truth, no matter what it might be.

“Actually, he made it out okay. Things appeared to have gone perfectly but… I wasn’t watching my back, sir. I thought that all the hostiles had entered the building and I wasn’t careful enough. One of them managed to flank me. He was yelling something – I don’t speak Arabic – and dragging me back towards the building – I fought him, but…”

The memory flashed back to him, a warm hand painfully tight on his arm, the hard barrel of an assault rifle jabbing into his ribs, and neither of those things as scary as the IED he was being hauled towards. He’d tried to say something, tried to struggle, but the man had been huge even if he hadn’t had a gun to back him up. Mac hadn’t stood a chance.

Fortunately, Torres seemed to read into what he wasn’t saying. “Dalton doubled back to help you.”

“Yes sir.” His voice sounded small even to himself.

“And he got caught in the blast when he came too close to the building.”

“Yes sir.”

A pause. “Were you hurt in the explosion?”

Mac blinked in surprise, caught off guard. In truth, once Jack had gone down and stopped answering his radio, it had never occurred to Mac to even think about himself. “Uh, no sir. The man holding me was – he was between me and the device, so he caught the worst of it. Knocked him out, I think.”

“You think?”

“I- uh. I knew Sergeant Dalton was hurt. I was more focused on getting to him and getting him out than I was about the hostiles.” He knew it sounded bad even as he said it. He tried his best to look sheepish, but all he really felt was bone-deep weariness. He wanted this to be done. “I’m sorry sir.”

The Major shook that off, unconcerned. “With your Overwatch down, Dalton should have been your priority. EOD aren’t trained to be combatants.”

That wasn’t entirely true, but Mac was hardly about to argue with the man. Besides, he doubted it had escaped notice that he wasn’t wearing his sidearm; he’d been given one as part of his kit and told to carry it with him whenever he was in uniform, but after about a month of working with Jack, he’d felt safer leaving it in the Humvee instead. He wasn’t confident that if there was a hostile in front of him he’d be able to shoot them anyway, so carrying around a loaded weapon was more of a liability than anything. Jack didn’t agree, but he hadn’t pressed the issue.

“What happened next?”

“I found Jack buried in the rubble. He had a visible head wound and he was unconscious. When I couldn’t wake him, I carried him back to our vehicle and came straight here.”

Torres nodded slowly. “Do you have anything else of note to report?”

“No sir.” He held still, waiting for his verdict. He could personally point out about twelve different things he’d done wrong, and every single one of them added up to Jack in a hospital bed. If it really was anything worse than a concussion…

If it came to that, there wasn’t anything the Major could do to Mac that he wouldn’t deserve.

“Alright,” the man said, his voice heavy and drawn. “I take it you know that I’ll have to report this up the chain. Circumstances aside, catching your own teammate in a repurposed IED blast isn’t going to look good and that’s before we even get to you getting ambushed.”

“Yes sir.”

Torres sighed, looking momentarily softer than he had any right to after the shitshow he’d just heard about. “For now, the most any of us can do is wait for Dalton to wake up so he can give his own report. We’ll go from there. In the meantime, I’ll send some men out to Sakini to work on clean-up; you go get washed up. You’re off rotation until your Overwatch is back on his feet.”

The very idea of having a shower and going to bed felt utterly heavenly – just thinking of being gifted such a reward after what he’d done made something in Mac balk. He straightened up, trying to make himself look firm. “That’s not necessary, sir. I’m still fit for work.”

Torres paused in surprise, then gave him a quick look up and down. “You’re asking for another Overwatch?”

Mac hesitated, but didn’t back down. “Not permanently, sir. I know Sergeant Dalton’s tour is conditional. But while he’s in recovery, if there’s work that needs doing then I’m happy to do it.”

The Major didn’t look entirely thrilled by the idea, but he wasn’t turning him down cold either. Mostly, he seemed thoughtful. “It sounds like you were pretty close to an explosion yourself. You’re sure you’re in good shape?”

“I mostly caught the blowback, sir. Made my ears ring, knocked the wind out of me. Nothing serious, nothing permanent.” It was true, too. He really had gotten off incredibly lightly given the severity of the situation, and he could mostly thank the man who had been trying to kill him for it. He’d ended up acting as a surprisingly effective human shield, in the end.

Slowly, Torres nodded. “Okay. I’m going to ask you to get a medical check-up to confirm you’re as okay as you say you are, but if that comes back clean, you can keep working. As it happens, one of our other EOD techs – Garcia – is shipping out in the morning, and his Overwatch doesn’t have a new partner yet. You know Corporal Lee?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good. You can stick with him until Dalton’s back on rotation. Check in with him directly to get your instructions, clear?”

“Clear, sir. Thank you.”

“Good. Now, go get that check-up and find out what’s become of your partner. You know he won’t be happy about you working with someone else.”

Torres said it lightly, sharing something of an in-joke that Mac was only half party to. Jack had never properly explained the nature of his deal with Torres – and the Colonel above him – to extend his tour with some provisos, but he’d got the impression that there had been a lot of shouting involved. Honestly, he’d been glad to steer clear of it. Apparently, though, it wasn’t too much of a sore point with Torres anymore and Mac was grateful; he’d hated to know that Jack had put so much on the line for his sake.

With a clear dismissal, Mac saluted, then turned on his heel and headed back to the medical tent. He avoided the emergency area this time, electing instead to go into the space just beyond it that was set aside for the standard check-ups that active soldiers were routinely subjected to.

Stupidly, it wasn’t until he was gestured towards an unoccupied booth that he realised his palm was still coated in dried, flaking blood. In everything that had happened, he’d completely forgotten about the minor wound. Not that there was anything to be done about it now. It wasn’t like he could hide it and besides, it really was only very minor. It shouldn’t pose any threat to his ability to work.

When the doctor made it round to him, he suffered through the indignity of the exam with little grace, too worn out and drained to make small talk. Fortunately, the doctor seemed to understand his mind was elsewhere, because he maintained a solid professional demeanour throughout and didn’t prod when others might have done. He cleaned out the slice in Mac’s palm, agreeing that it wouldn’t need stitches, and carefully checked his torso for any signs of major damage. Finding none, he signed off on Mac’s duty form and gave him back his shirt.

“You’re Dalton’s partner, right?” He said, just as Mac finished getting dressed again.

Mac’s eyes snapped up to look at him. “Yes. Is he- Is there news?”

The man shot him a reassuring smile, flapping a hand to soothe his obvious concern. “Everything’s okay, calm down. He took a hell of a knock to the head, but there’s no signs of critical damage. We’ll be keeping him in for a few days for concussion and cognition checks and the like, but from what I’ve heard, he got off remarkably lucky. He’s sedated at the moment, but I think they’re planning to bring him around in the next hour or so – you can go and sit with him if you like?”

He made a vague sweeping gesture in the direction of the main ward, an obvious invitation, but despite his desperation to see that his partner really was still in one piece, Mac hesitated.

The last time Jack had been injured – a bullet graze over the meat of his shoulder that he seemed annoyed by more than anything – Mac had planted himself at his partner’s side and refused to budge. It had felt like the right thing to do; Jack had always made a point of sticking around whenever Mac was ill or injured, and the least he could do was return the favour. Besides, sitting and chatting with him was a lot better than continuously replaying the moment when the bullet had caught him, his cry of pain and surprise. Jack had certainly seemed to appreciate the company while he waited out the required bedrest portion of his recovery.

But that had been then, when Jack had been wounded by a bullet Mac couldn’t possibly have done anything about. Now, he was laid up with a head injury because Mac hadn’t been smart enough to watch his own back for all of five minutes and had ended up luring his partner into an explosion he caused. On every possible level, Jack’s injuries were his fault.

There wasn’t the slightest chance that the first thing he would want to see when he woke up would be Mac’s face.

He became distantly aware that he’d frozen in place and the doctor had started to eye him critically, so he slapped on what he hoped looked like a relieved smile.

“Nah, that’s okay. I don’t want to disturb him if he needs the rest. Besides, I’m knackered too.”

To his credit, the doctor managed to keep whatever he thought about that off his face. Instead, he offered an obliging smile. “Of course. You’ve had a rough day too.”

Mac nodded, then a thought occurred to him. “Can you let me know, though, if- If something happens?”

No matter how much Jack might not want to see Mac, the only way Mac would be able to not bear seeing him is if he knew that the man was going to be okay. He needed to know that his own stupidity hadn’t done worse than what he already knew about.

“Of course. You’re set up as his base contact anyway, so you’re supposed to be kept in the loop.”

He hadn’t known that Jack had done that, though in hindsight it made sense. He’d done the same the day after Jack had decided to stay on after all. Still, the very thought of it now, when Mac was just about the one person in the entire FOB who Jack shouldn’t be relying on to be there in times of trouble- It stung.

He buried the sensation as best he could under a wave of fatigue and hopped down off the examination bed. If he was going to have a breakdown over this, it sure as hell wasn’t going to be here.

“Is that everything?” He asked the doctor, wanting to be done and away from here.

He smiled. “That’s everything, Specialist. You make sure you get some rest before shipping back out tomorrow, okay? I don’t want to see you back here any time soon.”

“Sir yes sir.”

With that done and a form confirming he was ready for active duty clutched tightly in one hand, he scooped up his and Jack’s packs, as well as Jack’s rifle which he still hadn’t had time to return, and marched back out into the blazing sunlight.

..

The first few times Jack woke up, he spent the few minutes of consciousness he had in muddled confusion. There were bright lights and lots of sound, then pale blue moonlight and muffled voices, then light again – through all of it, he couldn’t have said where he was or what was happening. Everything was too distant and vague to grasp, and fatigue had sunk its claws deep into his mind, dragging him back whenever he dared to try to push ahead.

He couldn’t give up though. He might not know what was going on, but he was sure that there was something he was forgetting, something important. Whatever it was didn’t matter – all that did, was that Jack needed to wake up and get to it.

It wasn’t until he finally blinked himself properly awake that he was able to put some logic to the flashes he’d caught before. He was in a hospital bed, with the slowly undulating fabric of a tent above him – the FOB. That certainly made sense, given that he felt like he’d been hit by a truck, but it didn’t really explain the why of that whole situation and no memories seemed ready to spring forth from the depths of his mind to enlighten him.

Christ, what the hell had happened to him?

He crawled his hand over the scratchy bedding, searching for a call button and ending up surprised when he actually found one. Any higher tech than the stone age was normally reserved for the MOB, and since he was in a tent then he clearly wasn’t there. Shrugging it off as unimportant, he hit the button and waited.

A nurse appeared between the screens around his bed less than twenty seconds later. “Sergeant Dalton? Back with us this time?”

“This time?” He muttered, then regretted it when his throat rasped horribly over the words. Clearly he’d been out for a while.

Understanding brightened in her face, and she stepped closer to retrieve a cup of water from his bedside table and present the straw in front of his face. Uncomfortable as he was, he was pretty certain he could have held the cup himself, but it hardly seemed worth the argument when she was willing to do it. Besides, having a beautiful woman feed him by hand was hardly going to be the low point of his day.

When he was done, she returned the cup to its place and pulled out his chart. “Can you tell me how you’re feeling? Any pain?”

“Headache. Feels like I got run over. What happened?”

Her eyes flicked towards him, measuring. “How would you rate the severity of your headache on a scale of one to ten?”

“Four. It’s fine. What happened?”

She pulled a penlight out from the pocket of her scrubs and leaned in to examine his pupils. He let it happen with increasing impatience, long since aware that trying to rush medical staff when they were intent on checking him over was a losing game. Better to let her get it out of her system before pushing too hard for answers.

“Pupil response is normal,” she said after a moment. “It looks as though your concussion is clearing up nicely. Unfortunately you’re still in what we would consider the danger period for head injuries, so you’re going to be staying with us a few days yet for monitoring.”

That was annoying as hell, but with no idea what was wrong with him, he had no scale of what was reasonable. “Sure, fine, whatever. Can you please tell me what happened? I don’t remember getting hurt.”

Truthfully, he didn’t remember much of anything.

She hesitated, but she must have seen the determination in his eyes because she folded without further argument. “You were hit by falling masonry following an explosion. I don’t know the details beyond that. Your partner brought you in.”

His partner-?

Mac!

A rush of memories suddenly hit him, so sharp and fierce that he actually sucked in a hard breath in surprise. The IED in Sakini, hostiles closing in, an utterly insane idea from Mac that just might be crazy enough to work – and it did, right up until he heard a scuffle over the radio, Mac’s voice tight with stress saying, let go of me, we can’t go in there, there’s a bomb-

He hadn’t hesitated for a second to race back in the direction he’d come.

“My partner-” He said wildly, coming to life all of a sudden as cold terror rushed through him. “Mac- Is he- What happened? Where is he?”

Something had to have gone wrong. If he was alright then he would be here, teasing Jack for being so muddled and letting him see with his own eyes that he was unhurt. That was what they did.

The nurse’s hand pressed down firmly on his shoulder, forcing him back down from where he’d tried to jackknife upright. “Sergeant! Please, stay calm. Your partner is completely fine. Specialist MacGyver, right? He’s okay. No injuries.”

Jack’s wild eyes found hers and latched on, seeking truth. “He’s okay?”

“Yes. I promise you. When he brought you in, he wasn’t injured. He had a physical to clear him for duty and came up clean. You’re the one we’ve been worried about.”

There was a lot there that he needed to process, and most of it seemed beyond his exhausted mind, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. Mac was okay. That was- well, honestly, that was far better than he had any right to expect given the nightmare situation they’d been in, and the fact that apparently Jack had just checked out and left the kid to deal with it, in hostile territory no less. God, he owed him a beer.

But if he’d been sought medical clearance, then that meant… “He’s back on duty?”

The nurse nodded, evidently surprised by the question. It was standard practice for uninjured soldiers to rotate as needed around their teammates’ injuries, and if Mac really wasn’t hurt then there was absolutely no need for him to be sitting around the FOB twiddling his thumbs. But, then, ‘standard practice’ had never been their way of doing things. Thanks to Jack’s very carefully worded agreement with the Brass, the pair of them should have been free to turn down any requests for temporary reassignment.

Then again, Mac didn’t seem the type to pass on a call to duty, particularly if there were lives on the line.

He nodded slowly, letting that knowledge settle inside him. Mac was alive and uninjured, if not exactly safe. Jack was – apparently – alive and relatively okay. A win all round, really – so why did he feel like something had gone horribly wrong?

“Okay,” he said slowly, then again more firmly. “So, doc. Give it to me straight: how am I doing?”

..

Jack had kind of assumed that Mac had been absent when he woke because it was clearly the middle of the day, which logically meant that he was off-base somewhere. That was perfectly understandable and given the circumstances, Jack could understand why he’d done it – Mac hadn’t known that Jack was finally going to wake up after all and since he’d apparently been in and out for three whole days, it wasn’t surprising he’d not elected to sit around, bored out of his mind. Still, that logic fell apart just a little bit when night fell and no blond bomb nerd appeared at his elbow.

He knew that Mac was his contact, which meant he must have been informed that Jack was awake and talking and yet- He went to sleep that evening with no visitors.

He slept in the next morning, unintentionally, so if Mac had stopped by before heading out then he would have missed him. He almost wanted to ask one of the staff, but he had a sneaking suspicion that the kid hadn’t been by at all and that… That didn’t feel right.

It wasn’t that Jack thought he was owed Mac’s time or attention or anything like that, but he’d kind of thought that he’d get it anyway. The last time he’d been stuck in the hospital ward, he hadn’t been able to shake Mac off for more than a few minutes at a time, no matter how much he’d pleaded with him to go back to the barracks and get some proper sleep. Any time one of the staff had tried to chase him out, he’d planted his feet and refused to be moved. It had been touching, in an odd kind of way, a clear demonstration of Mac saying ‘If you’ve chosen me, I’ve chosen you too.’

Now- Now it was different, and Jack was pretty sure that wasn’t a good thing.

Some careful questioning – and an outright demand for an explanation from Major Torres when he showed up to get Jack’s report – had brought some things to light, but made others even murkier. For one, Mac had actively requested to remain on duty. After what had happened last time, that was a big red flag in its own right. He did at least have Lee watching his back, someone who Jack knew to be a crack shot and clever with it, so he probably wasn’t getting himself into too much trouble, but still.

Torres had also made it clear that their failed mission was not being received particularly well by the higher ups. When pressed, he’d alluded to the fact Mac had – apparently entirely willingly – painted himself right into the corner and placed the blame directly on his own shoulders. Jack hadn’t been able to keep himself from swearing aloud. Goddamn self-sacrificing idiot. He’d tried to make it clear that Mac hadn’t been to blame for what happened, and Torres seemed inclined to listen to him, but the details of his report did match up squarely with what Mac had said. The only difference was that Jack wasn’t about to start playing the blame game.

All signs pointed to something being very, very wrong with his partner.

When that evening rolled around and there was still no Mac, Jack had been about ready to climb out of bed himself and hunt the git down. In the end he was spared the trouble by a surprise visitor – just not the one he’d been expecting.

“Jackie! You’re looking- well, a bit shit, honestly, but much better than before.” Corporal Lee – Ryan, to basically everyone who had known him for more than five minutes – stuck his head through the break in the screens and offered him a wide, toothy grin.

“Thanks,” he shot back, grimacing at him then stopping when it pulled at the colourful array of bruising he knew was adorning his face – and most of the rest of him, come to think of it. “What are you doing here?”

Ryan slipped through the screens to stand beside him, casting a careful eye over his injuries even while he waved a careless hand in dismissal. “Your boy got a splinter that I’m making him get checked out. Thought I’d stop by to see you since I’m already here.”

White, electric panic shot down Jack’s spine. “Mac’s hurt?”

“No, no, he’s fine! Yeesh, calm down. It really is just a splinter, I promise, cross my heart. If he was anybody else, I wouldn’t have made him come here but I swear to god, someone needs to teach that boy he’s not immortal.”

The words were clearly meant in jest, but Jack felt the pit of worry in his gut that had opened when he woke up without Mac beside him suddenly yawn wider. Mac had never been particularly good at putting his own safety on his list of priorities, and if he really was blaming himself for Jack’s injuries, then there was a good chance he’d be acting downright reckless.

“He’s been giving you a hard time?” He asked, just to make sure.

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Honestly man, I have no idea how you do it. I’ve been driving myself hoarse telling him to keep his goddamn head down and I’ve only been working with him a few days.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” he said, hoping his levity covered the ice crawling through his chest. Goddamn it Mac, you don’t get to do this. “You two have any trouble?”

“Nothing worth reporting on. More IEDs than I ever wanted to see in my life but that’s kinda par for the course, right?”

“Tell me about it.”

“But other than that, it’s been pretty quiet. Word got around that your boy took out ten hostiles on his own, so maybe the T-men are all too busy trying to stay out of his way. I sure fucking would if I were them.”

That did actually pull a smile out of Jack, despite everything. The situation was definitely FUBAR, but it was about time someone other than him realised the sheer elemental force that was a pissed off Angus MacGyver. For a skinny little bomb nerd, he packed a surprising punch.

“You haven’t seen the half of it yet.”

“You have no idea how horrifying that is to hear, thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Hey, you said he was here, right? In medical?”

Ryan rolled his eyes, smiling. Clearly he wasn’t distracted by Jack’s meek attempts at feigning disinterest. “Yes, he’s about twenty metres that way, and yes, I will tell him to come and see you as soon as that pretty blonde nurse stops flirting with him. I thought he was gonna come yesterday, but he ended up just crashing. Not sure he’s been sleeping all that well.”

The last was said with a quiet, gentle concern, the type of tone that made Ryan one of the most popular soldiers on base. He might be a devil in a firefight, but he was genuine and he cared about the men he served with well beyond what he was officially required to do. Jack was, not for the first time, very glad that this was the Overwatch Mac had been transferred to.

“Who does, in this place? Can you remember what your twenties were like? I’m glad I didn’t spend mine in this hellhole.”

Ryan shuddered. “I don’t think I was ever that young.”

“Me neither.” They shared a look of weary amusement as Ryan patted a warm hand to his shoulder and kicked off from where he’d been leaning against the bed.

“I’ll go make sure your boy doesn’t escape without saying hello. You take care man, okay? We’ve missed you in the barracks.”

“Not sure anyone’s ever missed my snoring before,” he shot back with a smile, then sobered. “And hey, thanks man. For watching out of him. There’s no one else I’d trust more.”

“Don’t sweat it. You’ve pulled my ass out of the fire before. You just rest up and let me take care of your bomb nerd for a bit.”

..

Mac knew that Ryan had only really been making him come to medical to prove a point and that it was all in service of trying to watch out for him while Jack was laid up, but he still found himself pissed off by it. He wasn’t a child in need of someone to pull out his splinters – he’d been perfectly capable of doing that since he was five. Besides, Ryan hadn’t even tried to pretend it wasn’t payback for Mac ignoring his warnings earlier that morning and momentarily ducking out of his sightline to check out a suspicious rock pile.

There hadn’t even been anything buried under the rocks – it was just a false alarm. He’d been back under the protective watch of Ryan’s scope inside of a minute.

All of this to say, he was pretty sour about the whole experience. The nurse was incredibly patient with him, raising an eyebrow at Ryan when he cheerfully explained the problem like he was a parent dropping a kid off at daycare. The attitude had not helped matters. Regardless, she’d sat him down and pulled out her disinfectant and tweezers, and hadn’t reacted at all to Mac’s stormy expression.

It was a waste of his time, and more importantly hers. There were soldiers here with real, actual injuries that needed tending to and here he was taking up space and resources for a ‘wound’ he had scarcely even noticed. Still, he was here now and it wasn’t like Ryan wasn’t going to give him shit for it if he didn’t stick around, so he stayed where he was, feeling worse with every passing minute.

The splinter was hardly difficult to find, in inch long fragment of wood sticking haphazardly out of the inside of his wrist. Too shallow to cause any real damage, but long enough to itch something fierce. It had taken all of Mac’s willpower not to scratch himself raw on the drive back. The nurse hummed in sympathy when she saw it, but didn’t take the opportunity to make a comment that would so visibly have been unwelcome. She simply disinfected her tweezers and got to work.

The process hurt, but it was superficial. More frustrating was the agonising amount of time she spent examining the wound, trying to make sure she’d removed every last bit of debris before she let him go. He knew that it was literally her job to thorough and that he’d live to regret it if there was something nasty still lurking under his skin, but he couldn’t help his own impatience. He’d done everything he could to avoid the medical tents in the last few days and now he was stuck here, no doubt metres away from his Overwatch.

The urge to give in and seek Jack out was almost overwhelming now that he was actually here.

He’d been told that he’d woken up and didn’t appear to have suffered any neurological effects from his injuries or from his extended sedation, but Mac couldn’t trust that until he saw it with his own eyes. If he hadn’t been so sure that Jack wouldn’t want to see him, he’d have been at his side as soon as he heard the news. As it was, Jack hadn’t asked for him so he’d stayed clear.

Ryan reappeared just as the nurse was smoothing a dressing down over the small gash. “Dalton’s a tough son of a bitch, huh?”

Mac’s head snapped up to look at him. “You’ve been to see him?”

“Yeah. And, as it turns out, I think he’s pretty surprised that you haven’t.” Ryan raised his eyebrows pointedly, somehow both a question and a condemnation. Mac was in no mood to answer either.

He shrugged. “I’ve been busy, and he’s been sleeping.”

“He’s not sleeping now.” Mac bit his tongue to clamp down on his response to that. Fortunately, Ryan didn’t seem to need one, because he continued, “He’s asking to see you. If you’re done here?”

The nurse, packing up her things, nodded amiably as an answer, then bid them both goodbye and left. Mac somehow felt more exposed with her gone and nothing else to distract Ryan’s attention.

He wanted to refuse. The only reason Jack would be asking after him is if he wanted to tear him a new one for being so uncompromisingly shit at his job that he’d nearly killed his partner, and Mac just didn’t think he was solid enough to take that right now. But, really, that didn’t matter. If Jack wanted to chew him out, then it wasn’t like it was anything Mac didn’t one hundred percent deserve. He’d have to face the music sooner or later and he stubbornly refused to be a coward about it.

“Okay,” he said instead of trying to find an excuse. “Lead the way.”

Brave face or not, apparently he was a coward in the end anyway, because he hesitated at the very last hurdle; it had taken Ryan physically pushing him forwards to get him past the screens surrounding Jack’s bed. The view that greeted him was- not unexpected, but hardly a pleasant one either.

Jack was awake and blinking at him, which was a vast improvement on the unconscious slump he’d worn the last time Mac had laid eyes upon him, but his face was also a patchwork of blues and purples, softening to a sickly yellow at the edges. He looked – well. He looked like a wall had been dropped on his head.

He opened his mouth with absolutely no idea what was about to fall out of it, but it didn’t matter because Jack immediately cut him off.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

It brought Mac up short. “I- What?”

“Me getting hurt. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Jack-”

“No, shut up, listen to me. I know you and I think I’m finally getting some idea of what’s going on in that idiot head of yours because you told Torres that you were to blame for all this. Isn’t that right?”

“Well. I am.”

Jack huffed, visibly annoyed, and Mac had no idea what he was supposed to do in this situation. He’d expected anger, shouting, not whatever this was. “Goddamn it kid. This isn’t on you, of course it isn’t. Why would you even think that?”

He’d apparently meant it as some sort of rhetorical question because he blanched when Mac put up a hand to count his mistakes on his fingers. Jack spoke before he had the chance to start.

“No, don’t actually answer that. Forget I asked. Look, whatever moon logic you’re using to blame yourself for this? It’s nonsense, man. And no one else is going to tell you that because they don’t know, but I was there, okay? I was there the whole time. And I’m telling you right now that you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Distantly, Mac felt his body trembling. This wasn’t what he’d expected.

“We were in a shit situation, and your quick thinking is what got us out of it. I’m the one who was stupid enough to run towards an active IED even when I knew it was about to blow. And even after that, when the person who’s supposed to be watching out of you was out for the count, you kept your shit together long enough to get us both home without any further injury.”

Mac blinked at him.

“You saved my life, man.”

That was too much. He hissed, flinching at the absurdity of it. “I nearly killed you.”

“Nah, I did that. My mistake, not yours. And besides, I’m fine – couple of bruises ain’t nothing.”

“You were coming back because I was in trouble. Because I couldn’t look after myself for three minutes.”

Jack was shaking his head and Mac wished he’d stop because it looked like it hurt, and he couldn’t bear any more of Jack’s pain right now. “We were surrounded by hostiles Mac. It’s my job to keep an eye out for them so you can keep your eyes right where they need to be, and even I thought they’d all gone into that building. Anyone outside of that was trying to keep out of sight and you had no way of knowing you needed to be watching for that kind of threat. That’s what I’m here for, remember?”

Unable to find words to refute him, Mac just shook his head adamantly.

His Overwatch’s gaze turned soft. “Hey, man, c’mon. You’ve got to know that you didn’t have any control over what happened, and the bits you did, you did great. You got me out of there all by yourself. So what’s going on man?”

Mac hesitated, feeling torn open and raw, but somehow still entirely safe under Jack’s eyes. When he said nothing further, Mac felt himself deflate. “I’ve never-” He stopped, retried. “I didn’t come out here to hurt people,” he managed quietly. “All I’ve tried to do is disarm IEDs and limit the destruction and then this time…”

“This time you were the one setting the bomb.” Jack’s voice was level, understanding and without judgement.

“Yeah. And, of course, not only do I manage to-” He bit off the end of that sentence, his breathing ragged. “I also nearly killed you.”

He was aware that there were tears welling in the corners of his eyes, but he honestly couldn’t have been sure what emotion they were trying to convey. He just felt overwhelmed.

Jack put out a hand, setting his fingertips lightly on Mac’s elbow, the only part of him he could reach where Mac was keeping his distance. “That was the first time you killed someone,” he said calmly.

Wordless and bereft, Mac nodded. One of the tears slipped free.

“Ah, kiddo,” Jack breathed, leaning over a little further to grab Mac’s arm properly and pull him closer. Laid up as he was, he couldn’t offer much of a hug, but he was able to settle for tucking Mac into the curve of his arm and settling him there. “You didn’t do anything wrong, you hear me? I’m so sorry that you were in that situation at all, but you did everything right. Those men- They would have killed you and me and everyone in that village without hesitation, okay? I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you were protecting people Mac.”

Exhausted, overwhelmed, and with no way of voicing any of it, Mac just clung to Jack with a desperation he’d be self-conscious about if he was anyone else. Jack shushed him softly, running his hand up and down his back, and it was only then that Mac realised he was crying.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled wetly, not sure himself if he was apologising for Jack’s injuries or his own meltdown.

“Ain’t got nothing to be sorry for.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t. I’ll keep telling you as long as you need to hear it hoss, but this wasn’t your fault. None of it.”

They stayed like that for a long time. Mac felt himself starting to come together again just a little, still raw and hurting but able to breathe again. It was imperfect, but it was still somehow the best he’d felt in days. When he pulled back his head to look at Jack, he found his Overwatch smiling at him.

“There you are. Had me worried for a moment.”

“Sorry.”

Jack snorted. “If you insist on apologising, you could at least have the decency to do it for something that actually deserves it. Like, say, driving Ryan up the wall with your reckless behaviour?”

Mac’s eyes dropped, flushing. Jack just laughed at him, warm and relieved, absent of any actual anger. That part would probably come later, but it was obvious to anyone who looked that Mac wasn’t going to be able to withstand that sort of attack right now.

“Damn it kid. You’re okay though, right? Not hiding any injuries or something?”

“No. I should be asking you that. You’re the one who nearly died.”

“I’m not that easy to kill, brother. And besides, I had you watching my back. I knew you’d get me home safe.”

Mac’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think unconscious counts as safe.”

“I’m awake now, aren’t I?”

“Jack.”

Unable to help himself, Jack ruffled a hand through Mac’s mop of hair, laughing when he chirped in alarm and rapidly backpedalled out of reach. “I’m going to be just fine Mac. Quit worrying about me. I’ll be back on duty and driving you crazy over the radio in no time at all.”

When it came, Mac’s smile was a careful thing. “Can’t wait.”

“Me neither kid. Me neither.”

[hockeylvr59]

Not Just Neighbors || Tyson Jost & Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: It’s Tyson’s birthday and I’ve been swearing that I was going to write a threesome imagine with these two for months so tonight I finally decided to make it happen. Google won’t tell me who this gif belongs to so if it’s yours please let me know so I can credit you. 

I picked some prompts from my smut list to help with inspiration...namely: 

“Oh god, how can you manage to switch from cute to sexy in under a second?”

“Can you help me with this zipper?”

“Holy shit, you’re so fucking sexy like that.”

Warnings: SMUT, threesome, oral sex

Word Count: 3,388

~~~~~~~~

Dropping your purse on the entry table of your apartment you sighed as you kicked your heels off. Another night...another unsuccessful date. You were so over men that couldn’t stop talking about themselves for even a split second to let you get a word in edgewise. You honestly could care less about Brad’s investment strategy or Kyle’s high school football championship season. 

As you headed to your kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine, you heard a familiar knock on your door before it was pushed open, two of your neighbors sidling through it. You’d met Tyson and Cale in your building’s elevator and somehow the two young hockey players had wormed their way into your daily life. Neither could really cook, though they were both willing to learn, so you often had them down to make dinner with you, sending them each home with leftovers so that they weren’t eating out every night. In return, they’d gotten you tickets to their games on occasion and could frequently be found in your apartment when they had some downtime. 

“Y/N!” Tyson greeted, his enthusiasm present like always. Cale was certainly the quieter of the two, though he too became more outspoken as you got to know him. 

“Boys…” You responded, sipping from your wine glass as you leaned against the kitchen counters. “I know I didn’t invite you down tonight.” You teased...at least partially. You weren’t sure you had the energy to put up with the two of them tonight, really you’d been banking on setting up a warm bath and just relaxing and drinking until it was time for bed. 

“Tys saw your car pull in,” Cale explained offhandedly, moving around your counters to give you a hug. Both these men were the sweetest and you leaned into Cale’s body for a moment, enjoying his touch. “How was your date?” He asked and you groaned audibly making Tyson’s eyebrow raise from across the counter. 

“What was wrong with this one?” He asked and you rolled your eyes. 

“How about everything.” You complained. “Wouldn’t shut up about himself like all of the rest. Ordered the most expensive thing on the menu and then suggested we split the check-in half evenly. When he wasn’t talking about himself he was responding to things on his phone and not even paying attention to me. Needless to say, there will not be a second date.” You rambled before quickly finishing off the glass of wine you’d poured. 

“Now I need to change out of this damn dress, so excuse me.” You declared. As you turned to head toward your room you missed the lingering looks up and down your form from both Cale and Tyson. Alone in your room you sighed and reached for the zipper of your dress, only to find that it was stuck in place and wouldn’t budge. Sighing you left your bedroom once more, finding Cale and Tyson now chilling on your couch. 

“This is awkward but can one of you help me with this zipper...I can’t get it to move.” You requested.

“Of course Y/N.” Tyson declared, immediately motioning you forward to stand between his legs. Even seated he was able to reach the zipper and as you held your hair out of the way you felt him gently tug it down, finally getting it free after a moment to where it would slide freely. 

“Thanks.” You whispered softly, holding the dress to your chest with your other hand as Tyson’s fingers brushed over your spine as he released the zipper. 

“You’re welcome.” Tyson’s words caught in his throat and came out croaked. Again, you were too caught up on your bad date to feel both men’s eyes on the bare skin of your back before they shared a look. After sliding out of your dress and into a t-shirt and a pair of sweats that one of the boys left behind at some point you headed back out to the living room, plopping down onto the couch between them. 

“Those are mine.” Cale whispers, the number 8 present at the top of your thigh. 

“They are.” You agreed, sending him a look like ‘so what.’ “If you want them back you just have to ask...but I doubt you even knew they were missing so…” 

“You can keep them. They look better on you than me anyway.” Cale whispered, and it was only then that you noticed his eyes grazing over your body. Tyson drew your attention away from Cale, asking what movie you wanted to watch. As Tyson started the movie, you slipped back into the kitchen for another glass of wine before settling yourself back into the couch cushions between the two men. It wasn’t until partway through the movie that you’d shifted, nearly leaning against Cale, with your feet tucked up under Tyson’s legs. As you settled in like that, Cale’s hand pressed into your lower back and Tyson pulled your feet onto his thighs, brushing his own hand over your ankles gently. This was a little abnormal but you just took it as the boys trying to comfort you in whatever way they could. 

As the movie continued, you all laughed at certain parts, Cale’s cheeks going red like usual as a sexual innuendo was made about oral sex. 

“Oh come on Cale…” You teased. “Don’t act like you haven’t done that before.” At first, he didn’t respond but after a moment his mouth dropped to your ear and you could feel the tickle of his breath against your skin. 

“Oh trust me. I’ve done that and then some.” He whispered. “And I enjoy every second of it.” Suddenly the feeling of his thumb rubbing over your spine registered more fully and you shivered against him. From his spot at your feet, you watched Tyson smirk and his fingers teased from your ankle up closer to your knee. Looking between the two of them you felt the pressure in the room rising and suddenly Cale’s lips were back against your ear. 

“Tys and I have talked about how you need a man to treat you properly. No more of these assholes. What do you say?” His tone was soft but much deeper than you’d ever heard it before and suddenly it felt like someone had kicked the thermostat up to 100 degrees. 

“I...I’m not sure what you mean…” You mumbled, Cale’s hand sliding around from your back to rest just under your breast at your side. 

“We wanna fuck you beautiful. Treat you properly.” Cale elaborated and for a moment you had no words. Both of them...and you...at the same time. That was a major proposition and one that had your head spinning. 

“Y/N…” Cale whispered once more, attempting to get an answer regarding your interest out of you. 

“Oh god, how can you manage to switch from cute to sexy in under a second?” You finally mumbled and from his spot at your feet, Tyson burst into laughter. 

“So you think Cale is sexy...what about me?” Tyson inquired, his thumb brushing over the inside of your thigh, sliding higher and higher as he spoke. 

“You both are.” You eventually breathed, having been distracted by the way Cale’s fingers were teasing gently over your skin. 

“Does that mean you’re in? Because I’m dying to touch you.” Cale mumbled and the fact that he was being so forward about all of this was completely unexpected. 

“Yes.” The moment that one word left your mouth, both men shifted around you, Tyson climbing over you to kiss you while Cale’s mouth dropped to the exposed side of your neck, his fingers shifting to brush gently against your breasts. It was all so much and already you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest. 

Tyson’s kiss tasted sweet like candy and the wine that he’d stolen a sip of only minutes earlier. Slowly, your body was catching up to the sensation overload you’d been presented with and you whimpered into Tyson’s mouth as you reached one hand back to fist in Cale’s hair while the other wrapped itself around Tyson’s neck. 

You were completely unsure of how the two of them had even come up with this idea, how they’d decided that they both wanted you and were willing to share, but you were so glad that they had because tonight certainly wasn’t the first time you’d thought about what sex with each of them would be like. After all, they were professional athletes and you’d seen each of their bodies before. It wasn’t odd for you to fantasize about each of them becoming more than just a friend. You just hadn’t expected those fantasies to ever become real. 

Lost in your own musings you’d missed Tyson shifting off of you and reaching a hand out to pull you off of the couch. 

“Can we take this back to your room?” He inquired and when you nodded, the three of you made your way down the hall, Tyson’s hands reaching to wrap around your waist this time as he pulled your back into his front at the foot of the bed. “Kiss him y/n...you don’t know how much I’ve heard him talk about wanting to taste you.” Looking up at Cale revealed a sheepish smile before his thumb was brushing over your cheek and his lips were dropping onto your own, urging your mouth to open for him so that he could sweep his tongue into it. Unlike Tyson’s sweet taste, Cale tasted like mint with just a lingering hint of coffee. The difference matched that of their personalities and further served to drive you completely crazy. 

As you continued to kiss Cale, Tyson’s hands slid along your stomach, slipping under the edge of your shirt. 

“I think Tys wants to see you beautiful.” Cale murmured against your mouth. Nodding you lifted your arms as Tyson pulled the t-shirt over your head leaving you in just a bra and Cale’s too large sweats. The latter item was quick to follow, as this time Cale’s hands slipped under them and pushed them down off your hips. Covered by only a bra and underwear you felt Tyson’s arousal growing in the small of your back. 

“Holy shit, you’re so fucking sexy like that.” Tyson groaned, trailing his hands over your nearly nude body once more before pulling away. When your kiss with Cale broke, you glanced over to find that Tyson was now laying nude on your bed and for a split second, you felt like you needed to pinch yourself to make sure that this was real. 

“Go see him.” Cale directed you and as you knelt on your bed, Tyson pulled you closer to him, chuckling as you lost your balance and fell in beside him. Though laying beside Tyson your eyes drifted to watch Cale undress from across the room. 

“He’s half in love with you you know,” Tyson whispered in your ear. “Won’t shut up about you. Constantly talks about how much he wants you.” Though neither of them had really touched you yet, you could already feel your arousal pooling in your core, soaking through your panties. 

“What about you?” You found yourself asking and Tyson kissed you again before brushing his nose against yours. 

“You’re way too good for me but I want you so badly as well. Wanna feel you wrapped around me, wanna take you out to dinner and cover the check.” The twinkle behind Tyson’s gaze helped you to relax and you scraped your nails down his chest and abs, feeling the muscles twitch in response. It was only as your hand attempted to drift further south that Tyson stopped you. 

“Tonight’s all about you gorgeous. It’s not about me or Cale. Just lay back and let us take care of you. You’ve been so tense lately and we know it’s because you’re not being taken care of properly.” By the time he finished speaking, the bed had shifted under Cale’s weight as well and you looked back and forth between the two of them who were just admiring you. 

“Can I taste you?” Cale asked from his spot down near your hips and when you breathed out a ‘yes please’ his fingers slipped under the band of your underwear, tugging them off of you before tossing them to the side so he could settle between your legs. As Cale pressed soft kisses to the inside of your thighs, Tyson reached behind you to undo your bra, the final piece of clothing between the three of you being discarded. Now fully nude, you watched as Cale slipped closer to where you needed him, Tyson’s right hand moving to part your thighs further for his teammate. With Cale’s tongue making it’s first contact with your core, you felt Tyson’s lips wrap around your nipple, sucking and flicking his tongue in a pattern matching Cale’s. 

There was no shortage of eagerness between them, Cale diving right into your pussy, keen on bringing you to a quick orgasm, while Tyson switched between both of your breasts ensuring that both remained fully peaked. With Tyson helping to keep you spread out for Cale, Cale was able to focus on keeping your hips from bucking, preventing you from either seeking more contact or avoiding the sensitivity created by his actions. While neither showed much finesse in their actions, the eager chaos had you falling apart just the same and you felt your juices spill onto Cale’s tongue as he worked to elongate your orgasm. It wasn’t until you were shoving his head away, that he pulled back with a smirk, looking up at Tyson. 

“She tastes incredible...just like I told you she would.” This claim sparked a fire in Tyson’s eyes and though he didn’t switch spots with Cale, he bent forward to slide his own tongue through your folds before dipping the tip of it inside you. Though you were still overly sensitive, Tyson’s movements were slow and lazy and before you even realized you were close again you found yourself cumming all over his tongue as well. 

With all three of you already breathing heavy, both men settled in on either side of you, their fingers tracing patterns over your stomach and up your chest. 

“Told you I’d enjoy every second.” Cale murmured in your ear and you let out a low whine in response, your body just basking in the attentive pleasure these men were bringing you. “Should we let Tys fuck you first?” Cale inquired. “That way I can take my time with you when he’s done.” It was a slight dig at his teammate but you barely noticed, your brain processing the fact that you’d already cum twice and neither of them had even fucked you yet. 

“Don’t care...just need one of you.” You practically begged. Nodding, Cale tossed Tyson a condom that he’d gotten from somewhere before working to settle you between his own thighs, your back to his chest and his hard cock pressed against your skin. 

“Hear that Tys...she needs us.” Cale had repeated, brushing some stray strands of hair out of your face before mirroring Tyson’s earlier actions by helping spread your thighs open wide. “Don’t keep her waiting or she may kick us both out.” He teased and Tyson through back a chirp before lining his dick up with your pussy and pressing the tip inside. It had been a while since you’d had sex so as Tyson gently pressed inside you, your body protested against the stretch. Tyson wasn’t overly long but he was thick and so your walls fluttered as they attempted to relax around him. 

“Fuck you feel so good,” Tyson grunted, once he was finally buried inside you. You couldn’t help but whine at the feeling until Cale’s mouth pressed onto yours again, silencing your needy sounds. As Cale kissed you, Tyson began thrusting his hips against your own, starting slow but gradually gaining a steady rhythm. “Fuck Cale. She’s so tight.” He groaned and pivoted his hips even harder against your own making you gasp into Cale’s mouth. 

“Do that again Tys,” Cale instructed and when Tys obeyed you felt your toes start to curl. “Are you gonna cum all over Tys?” Cale whispered low in your ear, his fingers twisting your nipples, sending additional sparks straight to your core. “Do it. Cum all over him beautiful. Show him how good he’s making you feel.” You weren’t sure whether you had cried out Tyson’s name or both his and Cale’s as your third orgasm of the night crashed down on you, harder than the last two had been. 

“Fucking incredible.” Cale praised as you whimpered and whined as Tyson continued to piston inside of you until he had spilled into the condom. A louder whine slipped out as Tyson pulled out of you and Cale continued to kiss your head as Tyson moved to dispose of the used condom. 

Moving carefully, Cale slipped out from behind your back, grabbing a condom for himself. “Can you cum for us one more time so I can feel you?” He requested and though you were already beyond sensitive you really didn’t doubt that Cale would be able to make you cum again. Cale had just slipped the condom on and was stroking himself gently when Tyson returned, laying on his side next to you, his hand falling to your stomach. 

As Cale pressed into you, your head fell back against the pillows as a whimpered moan left your throat. Cale wasn’t as thick as Tyson had been but he was at least an inch longer and so he was already hitting different spots inside of you. Cale’s movements were slower than Tyson’s had been, and though you didn’t vocalize it, you were cursing his patience because you were already more sensitive than you could ever recall in your life. 

As Cale thrust deep inside of you, Tyson’s hand pressed down more firmly on your stomach and you moaned as Cale hit a spot so deep inside of you that it triggered the mixed pain/pleasure sensation. 

“You like that don’t you?” Tyson asked, his breath trailing up from your neck where he’d been pressing soft kisses. “I can feel him hitting deep inside you. I bet it feels so good.” You moaned in agreement, your response causing Cale’s hips to stutter for a moment. “We’re going to have you so stretched out you feel us for days.” If there was one thing that was certain, it was that statement made by Tyson. You’d had sex before, but it was never like this. Never had you felt so wanton and used but cared about at the same time. As Cale continued to thrust inside you slowly, he and Tyson took turns kissing you. You were so oversensitive, but you knew that it was only a matter of time before Cale pushed you to orgasm again. When Cale grunted out that he was close before you’d gotten there, Tyson slipped his fingers down between the two of you to rub frantically over your clit. The combination of that and Cale’s next in thrust hitting particularly deep was not one but two intense orgasms crashing down on you back to back, leaving you screaming and shaking between them. 

By the time you came down from the high, Cale had already slipped out of you and was disposing of his condom before taking his spot on the bed beside you and opposite Tyson. 

“Holy shit you were so good for us.” Tyson praised. 

“Absolutely perfect.” Cale agreed. 

Needless to say, you had certainly forgotten about your bad date and all you could think about was whether the three of you could do this again. Not realizing that you’d voiced that question aloud you were surprised when both Cale and Tyson murmured that you could absolutely do this again and that they were both looking forward to it. Unable to keep your eyes open any longer, you drifted off to sleep sore and sated, Cale wrapped around you on one side while Tyson cuddled close on the other neither of them just your neighbor any longer. 

[lovelybunny08]

The Backroom 2

♡ Pairing- Yoongi X Reader

♡ Genre- Smut, doctor, fingering, choking

♡Description- What will you do when you find out Yoongi secret will you stay or will you leave?

♡ Again thank you @artofediting for editing all my story. Seriously love you I dont know what I will do without you.😭😭

♡ Word Count- 3,364

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

It had been a while since the last time you had worked a night shift which made it so you hadn’t seen Dr. Min for just as long. Last time you never got his contact, and all you can think about is the way his fingers felt inside you. How often had you laid in bed at night touching yourself to the memory of his deft fingers pumping in and out of you?

You sighed heavily and leaned on the arm of your chair as your eyelids grew heavy when you heard your boss calling you from her office. You quickly got up and walked into her office, sitting down in the seat across from where she sat behind her desk. Her eyes were trained on the paperwork in front of her as she failed to notice your presence. 

 “uh, hey! You called?” You announced trying to garner her attention.

 “Oh, Y/N! Yes, perfect timing. Can you please do me a favor. Alex was supposed to work the night shift tonight, but he just called out sick. I know this means you’ll basically work a double today, but do you think you can cover it? I’ll go ahead and let you off early from this shift if you take it.” She stared at you with desperate, searching eyes hoping her pout would convince you. To most other employees, this would be such a drag. However, an overnight shift might mean that you might be able to see a certain doctor.

 “Yes!” You nearly shout. “I-uh, I mean, yes, I don’t mind at all” you told your boss trying to hide your eagerness.

“Great! Like I said, you can go home and relax until the night shift.” You gave a small nod and left to gather your things and punch out. Your ride home was spent with thoughts of said doctor and how long it had been since your last encounter.

________________________________________________________________

You wake up to your alarm going off and jump off your couch to shower and get dressed. You wear the sexiest yet still professional attire you can find for work. It was a one-piece dress that was black on top and red on the bottom with buttons going down the skirt making it look like a two-piece outfit. You top it off with some black flats and a black choker.

You grab your bag and head out the door; your imagination running wild with the events that you hope take place.

When you arrived, it was insanely busy as the weekends normally are. You immediately  went to the back room to put your stuff away and punch in. Soon you’re working double-time rushing to register all of the new patients. You didn’t even notice the eyes of your co-worker on your back until she addresses you.

“Wow, you look a lil different today.” Yunki examines as she comes from the backroom getting ready to leave.

“Eh, sometimes you just need to dress up for work” you reply with a wink as you turn to continue registering the next patient.

Hours of the night pass when you’re finally done registering all the patients and organizing a bit of the leftover paperwork. You stand from behind the desk planning to head to the front desk to finish off a few things. You were exhausted from the endless flow of patients. When you walked to the front of the desk, you overheard one of the nurses addressing someone which immediately woke you up.

“Oh, Mrs. Min! What a surprise! What are you doing here?” The nurse asked the person. No. Not a person, Mrs. Min. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Nonetheless, you continue to listen to figure out what the hell was happening.

“I’m just here to quickly drop something off to my husband” Mrs. Min kindly replies.

“Let me call him for you,” the nurse responds. You continue your walk to the front now to finish inputting the patient information in the system (and get a better view of what was going on).

You walk in and sit down behind one of the computers and spare a glance at the two women. Mrs. Min was stunning with long black hair. She was wearing the most expensive clothes you have seen in your life, and she looked like she walked straight out of a magazine.

As if the scene couldn’t get worse, Dr. Min Yoongi walks out of the ER door and spots his wife standing in front of the desk with the nurse where you sat. An unrecognizable expression flashes across his face but was gone before you could analyze it.

“Jessica, what are you doing here?” Dr. Min exclaims to her in surprise as he walks towards the two and leans down to give her a kiss. This all took place right in front of you, and it took you a few minutes of empty gawking at your computer screen before your thoughts came into order. How stupid could you have been? He was married. You felt so dumb. Of course he was married! He was a kind, wealthy, hot, successful doctor! The fact that he never disclosed any such information to you pissed you off beyond belief. With a mixture between anger and disappointment, you clench your jaw and continue your work, ignoring their presence.

Time passes as you go back to your desk and begin registering new patients. You didn’t notice when the wife had left or where Dr. Min had slipped away too. You consumed yourself in your work, flying through registration like a maniac, blocking out the rest of the world. As your desk phone rings you automatically pick it up to respond.

“Hello, this is Grace Hospital. How may I help you?”

“Y/N, it’s nurse Eunah. The patient you weren’t able to get to before finally got his information so you can register him now.”

“Ah, thank you, Eunah, I’ll get right to it” you told the nurse and ended the call. You go to find the patient once more to begin registration.

An hour or so passes and after answering the nonstop questions from that one patient, you were finally able to register him. You were walking down the hall back to your computer when your paper slipped from your hand. You were bending down to grab them when someone beat you to it. As the hands shuffle the papers together, your body goes rigid as you vividly remember those hands. As the person stands up and you straighten, you slowly look up to see Dr. Min staring down at you with the papers outstretched towards you. You accept the papers and bow slightly to thank him. Without missing a beat, you begin to walk away hoping to escape the awkward atmosphere. Before you could, you felt his hand on your arm to stop you. You immediately halt and turn to look at him. Clearing your throat and plastering on a fake smile, you address him.

“Yes. Dr. Min. How may I help you?” His eyes narrow at your guarded disposition. He grabs the papers back from your hands disregarding your reaction.

“Eunah, please finish registering the patient for Miss. Y/N. I need her help with a problem in one of the registrations of another patient” he says, handing the papers over to the nurse.

“Of course," Eunah replies, turning back to her computer. Dr. Min spins back to face you with a stern demeanor.

“Come," he demands, leaving no room for negotiation.

You follow him out of the ER to the doctor’s personal offices. You had to be a head of a department to normally have your own office, and since Dr. Min was the head of ER, he had his own. You follow him into the space which was larger than you would have imagined. His office had his desk with his computer on one end. On the other end, he had a couch with a coffee table in the middle. There was also a flatscreen on the wall that faces his desk and a love chair placed at the end of the coffee table. You seat yourself down on the couch as he sits on the love seat to your left. You turn to him politely and address him the most professional way possible.

“Dr. Min. is there something wrong?” You ask innocently even though you would rather be anywhere else. Still, despite it being wrong, his presence demands its effect on your body. You stiffen as he sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“I told you to call me Yoongi,” he replies in an authoritative tone. His glare causes you to break eye contact as your eyes fly down onto his hands in his lap. Big mistake. The same hands that once brought you endless pleasure now twisted your stomach in knots as the wedding ring on his left hand glared at you. He must not wear it often as this was your first time ever seeing it. The sexual tension and anger made sense to you, but what you didn’t expect was the jealousy you felt from seeing that ring. You had no right to feel that way, and it only pissed you off more. You felt beyond stupid, and now it was being shoved into your face. Gah, you even dressed up for him today. What were you thinking? He’s married, and he’s out of your league anyways.  

“Jealous?” His gruff voice broke your reverie and you stared at him with wide eyes. How did he see through you like that? Was it that obvious? You were jealous, yes, but admitting that to yourself and him were two drastically different things.

“No!” you scoff. “That’s ridiculous” you explain looking down.

“I know you’re lying. Every time you lie, you always look down after.” You froze as heat flooded your face. You remained silent because he was right, and there was no point in making a fool out of yourself even more. Each second that passed felt like an eternity, and his intense glare made you feel powerless. His aggressive stance toward you only reminded you of your heated encounter in the backroom. As you revisit the memory, you begin to rub your thighs together, only making you feel more ashamed; lusting after a married man. This small motion doesn’t go unnoticed to Yoongi.

“Don’t lie to me,” he sighs. “Let me ask you this. Do you want me?” He leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Be honest or I’ll bend you over my desk and fuck you until you admit the truth.” Your eyes widened as the shock of what he just said went straight to your core. What kind of game was he playing? He knew what those words did to you. You stared him dead in the eyes as you thought over your response. You knew it was wrong. You knew that wanting him to fuck you hard against his work desk was just a shameful dream to you. He was married.

“Yes,” You clench your jaw. “But it’s wrong. You’re married.” You mutter out the last bit in disbelief. Suddenly, a smile crossed his face, and it was the first genuine smile you’ve seen from him all night.

“Ah. I think I understand now.” Yoongi says laying back in his chair.

“What do you mean you understand now?” You ask.

“Your problem is that to you I’m married. Jessica and I are are mmarried but only for looks.” You gave him a confused look but he continues “Our family know each other for awhile and   arranged marriage to save her family, but one thing I can tell you is we don’t love each other only to the outside world we do.” Finishing his explanation, he stares at you with a smug smile. You couldn’t help the small smile that escaped in return even if you knew it was wrong.

“It makes sense then, why you didn’t seem that happy when you saw her here” You respond. Seeing your acceptance of his situation, he patts one of his thighs.

“Come here kitten and sit facing me.”

You knew he might technically be married, but there was something about him you couldn’t deny, especially when he used that nickname. He drew you in. You stand only to spread your legs and sit on his thighs, you dress hiking up as you did so. Without giving much time for adjustment, Yoongi grabbed your hair and pulled you towards him until your lips were barely inches apart. He whispered onto your lips, “My sweet kitten looks can be deceiving then I thought. Could you have  resisted even if my marriage isn’t real? I guess you can’t always trust what you see.”

Then he’s kissing you hard. You thought you had truly experienced the wild side of him last time, but this kiss was full of lust, desire, and passion. His lips moved over yours until his tongue was sliding into your mouth, dominating you and stealing every breath. In response, your hands scraped down his chest as you began rubbing yourself on the tent in his pants. Your skirt was nearly around your waist at this point. He was so hard already and you could feel your wetness on your thighs. You couldn’t believe how ready he made you only from kissing you. He wraps one of his arms around your waist until you’re directly over his dick, leaving you a moaning mess and you begin to rub directly against it. You slip your hand up his chest and behind his as you begin slightly tugging at the ends of his hair. Yoongi then slides his hands underneath your ass and he stands up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He carefully lies you down onto the coffee table and breaks the kiss to stand up and look down at you.

“God you look so good lying here, wet and ready for me.” Yoongi runs his tongue over his swollen lips before pressing a hand above your head for support before kissing you faster and deeper. His other hand was running up your legs slowly, pushing them open until he reached the apex of your thighs. He soft tucks his fingers into the band of your panties and yanks them off, discarding them somewhere on the floor. His fingers immediately begin rubbing your clit and you moan into his mouth at the feeling. How you’ve dreamed about feeling his hands on you again. His lips began sliding down your neck, leaving slight teeth marks until he reached your black choker.

“Mmmmm I like this on you” He hums against your throat. His teeth tug on the black band slightly before he’s reattaching his lips to yours and slipping two fingers in you at the same time. The sudden onslaught to your senses is overwhelming in the best way. As he continues to pump and curl his fingers in and out of you, he sits up to pull down the stop of your dress. You lift your back to help him take off your bra as well. As your nipples harden in the cold room, Yoongi leans down and takes a nipple into his warm mouth. As he sucks hard on your breast, he adds a third finger into you and the mix of pain begins to send you towards your edge.

“Please Yoongi, I'm g-gonna cum” you breathily moan.

“Cum for me, kitten. Cum all over my fingers.”

With those words, your eyes shut tight as the tension in your abdomen snaps and you’re thrown into pure bliss. Yoongi continues to softly pump his fingers in and out of you as you finish cumming on them. He eventually pulls out his finger and stands over you, breathing heavily. He sucks his fingers clean of your arousal and begins to unbutton his dress shirt and unbuckle his belt.

“I can’t wait to know how it feels to be inside you.” He groans.

As he pushed down his pants and boxers, you finally got to see him. You had never seen anyone with his size before and you can’t help but lick your lips. You got up to touch him, but he quickly pushed you back down against the table.

“No, kitten not today. Another time I’ll let you, but today I'm gonna fuck you so you know who you belong to.” You couldn’t believe the dirty words that were falling onto your ears, but it only turned you on more.

He slides your dress off and then leans down with one hand above your head. He lines himself up your entrance, and you moan in anticipation. You move your hips slightly hoping to get some sort of relief, but he doesn’t allow it.

“So impatient, little kitten” he tuts and then pushes himself in and bottoms out in one swift move. You gasp at the feeling of him inside you and scrape your nails down his back. He stills for a while seeing the slight pain in your face. After letting yourself adjust for a bit, you move your hips slightly as a signal to move. He sets a slow pace in the beginning, dragging himself almost completely out of you until he pushes back into you.

“P-please, f-faster,” you’re barely able to beg.

“Use your words kitten.”

“Agh, please Yoongi fuck me harder.” You nearly scream at him. Yoongi lets out a chuckle and dives down to kiss you hard once more. He picks up his pace immediately, hitting all of the right spots until you couldn’t open your eyes. You felt like your insides were on fire as his other hand slid upward to mold your breasts into his palm. He then slowly travels upwards to wrap around the black choker and squeeze your throat just enough to labor your breathing. He then begins pushing in harder than before, sucking bruises across your chest as his hand wraps itself harder around your throat.

“Cum for me, kitten. Cum for daddy,” he whispers, and at those words you lose it. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as his hand releases your throat, the sudden flow of oxygen only increasing your pleasure. Yoongi speeds up slightly as his thrusts grow sloppy until he’s spilling his seed inside of you. You both lay there, bare chests pressed against each other, breathing heavily. Yoongi grabs your jaw and kisses you deeply before he pulls himself off of you. He walks behind his desk and returns to you with a towel. As he carefully wipes you down, you catch your breath and admire the man in front of you. As he begins to clean himself, you stand up to redress yourself. You slip on your dress and shoes as Yoongi finishes buttoning his shirt. He hands you your bra from across the room as you slide on your ruined panties.

“Your phone?” Yoongi reminds you as he hands it to you. You unlocked it only to give it back for him to put his contact info in.

“I put my personal phone number there,” he said, giving it back to you. You stare at your phone. You were still slightly uneasy at the fact that his  technically still married.

As if he was reading your mind, he announces,  “There’s no turning back for me. I want you, and I take what I want without regret.”

“I want you too, but I don’t want to be  ruin a marriage” you reply.

He throws his head back in laughter as he crosses the room and takes your chin in his hand.

“Kitten, what I want with you has nothing to do with my marriage or lack thereof. You’re an entirely separate matter.” He speaks softly.

You look into his eyes and all you can find is honesty. Whether or not it is reality, you know that he truly believes his desire for you is separate from his marriage. In the back of your mind, you can’t help but think you may just be a source of comfort for him, and that he will never truly be yours.

[kissjane]

SECOND CHANCE / Not so short at all fic

#28 from this prompt list

[[Warning, not very fluffy, lots of angst with a happy ending]]

We literally ran into each other

Lucas got to the supermarket at ten to eight, out of breath from running. Ever since he broke up with Didier, he had needed to adapt to doing his own grocery shopping again, and frankly, he had resorted to ordering take-out six nights out of seven for the last few weeks. But now he had run out of coffee, and he was on his last roll of toilet paper, so he needed to come in for the essentials. It was just that his long hours – which had, ironically, caused the final row with Didier in the first place – made it nearly impossible to get here on time.

As he rushed through the aisles, frantically trying to remember what he had to buy, he pondered how he had let things get so out of hand. He had settled into a job he hated, with a demanding boss expecting him to stay late every night and more often than not called him in on the weekends too. He had been with Didier for years, ever since their university days, even though Lucas had never really been in love with him. It was just convenient. But when Didier had started to hint at wanting more – move in together, commit to each other, plan for a family at some point – Lucas had distanced himself, and when the fights became more and more a regular occurrence, he hadn’t found the energy or even the desire to try to work things out. When Didier had finally had enough and broke up with him, he hadn’t even felt sad. It was honestly a bit liberating, even, to not have to pretend anymore. He felt guilty about not having the courage to break up with Didier sooner, to string him along like that – but it had just happened. One day they started dating, and the next day five years had passed and they were on very different pages.

The lights flickered in the supermarket, and somebody announced in a tired voice that they were closing in three minutes and to please make for the check-out registers.

Lucas started for them, when he suddenly realized he didn’t grab coffee. He turned on his heels and half ran to the back of the store, where the coffee had been last time he had set foot in here. He wasn’t paying attention, and when he turned the corner, he slammed into a tall body. He dropped his basket, and he heard a grunt escape from the other guy. He started uttering an apology while picking up his basket, hoping nothing had broken, conscious of the time running and still needing to find the coffee.

Then he suddenly heard a voice he didn’t think he’d ever hear again, a voice he would recognize everywhere.

“Lucas? Lucas Lallemant? Is that really you?”

Lucas froze mid-movement. He slowly lifted his eyes – dreading what he would see.

In front of him, in all his gorgeous glory, looking even hotter than eight years ago, stood Eliott Demaury.

In a flash, Lucas was back in high school, crazily in love with the new boy, kissing him one magic night in the rain. Eliott had been his first kiss, the first guy he had loved. Oh hell, who was he kidding – the only guy he had ever loved. Lucas had been confused for weeks, when Eliott had kissed his ex at a party only a few days after he had told Lucas he had broken up with her, then leaving Lucas a bunch of cryptic drawings. Eventually, they had stopped coming, and later on, Lucas had heard from someone that Eliott was bipolar, so he had put their ultrashort affair down to Eliott being manic.

Not that it had been easy to forget about the tall boy with the grey eyes. Eliott had haunted his dreams for months, and it had taken Lucas years to get back into the game. And then he had met Didier, who was tall and had messy hair, and Lucas had known it was not the smartest move to get together with somebody who vaguely resembled Eliott, as some sort of ersatz, but he had gone with it anyway.

Standing here in front of Eliott it was a miracle he didn’t forget to breathe. Eliott looked at him as if he had seen a ghost, and they just stood there, staring at each other, until a harried-looking employee came towards them.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, it is five after eight, we really need to close now.”

She shepherded them both to the register lane, and Eliott went first, paying for his purchases, and waiting on the other side. Lucas wished he would just go, he didn’t want to talk to Eliott, he didn’t feel like getting back into that insane infatuation from all those years ago – it had taken him long enough to get over it the first time around. He didn’t want to “catch up” or “rekindle their friendship” or whatever – he wanted to go home and wallow in self-pity. And to add insult to injury, when he was bagging his groceries, he realized he still didn’t have any coffee.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, noticing too late that Eliott had stepped closer to him.

“Everything okay?”, came Eliott’s voice, careful, neutral.

Lucas felt anger rise in his throat, but he didn’t want to make a scene. Eliott didn’t need to know how affected Lucas was by this chance encounter.

“I didn’t get to grab coffee, and I’m all out,” he gritted through his teeth.

Eliott nodded, and seemed to waver about what to say next.

“I have coffee at home… Do you want to – I mean – or go to a café with me –”, he stammered, and Lucas threw him a thoroughly unimpressed look.

“Your girlfriend might be upset if you start bringing men home. Especially men you’ve kissed.”

Fuck, he berated himself. Why did he bring that up? They could have pretended for the next thirty seconds they were just old schoolmates, but no, Lucas had to broach the subject of their awkward fling.

“Girlfriend? What girlfriend?”, Eliott said, blushing slightly, probably because Lucas mentioned their kiss. Maybe he had forgotten all about that, until Lucas reminded him. He must regret staying and trying to talk to Lucas now. Well, all the better, Lucas thought. The faster they could get this over with, the happier Lucas would be.

“Ah, sorry. I assumed you were still with Lucille. My mistake”, he said, as politely as he could muster, and grabbed his coffeeless bag as he turned to go. He would go home and get into bed and forget all about this day.

“Wait, what?”, Eliott called after him. “Lucas, wait a second!”

Lucas wanted to keep going, he really did, but Eliott’s legs were longer than his, so unless he started running, it would be to no avail. He sighed, and stopped walking. Eliott came up to him, and because Lucas was staring at the pavement, he saw how Eliott shuffled his feet.

“Why would I be with Lucille? I told you I broke up with her.”

Lucas looked up at that, the anger threatening to erupt in full force. His eyes were icy when he stared straight at Eliott, who seemed genuinely confused.

“Yeah, you did, but when I saw you sticking your tongue down her throat only a few days later, I assumed you had changed your mind.”

He took a strange kind of pleasure in watching the colour drain from Eliott’s cheeks.

“You saw that?”, Eliott breathed, and Lucas only nodded.

“Fuck,” Eliott said, almost to himself.

They stood in silence for a long beat.

“Lucas, I’m sorry about that. I was… confused, and trying to sort out some things… But didn’t you get my messages, then? I – I left you a few drawings in your backpack… I wanted – I wanted…”

“You wanted what, Eliott?”

Lucas heard the harshness in his voice, but honestly, he was exhausted, and he really didn’t want to do a post mortem on their… relationship, or whatever the word for it was.

“You told me you broke up with Lucille, then you kissed her as if nothing was wrong between you, and then you left me all those drawings. I have no idea what you wanted, Eliott.”

He should leave. He should lie to Eliott, say that his boyfriend was waiting for him. He should go home, write a letter of resignation for his asshole of a boss, get over Eliott once and for all, find somebody else to love, and finally start living.

“I wanted to talk to you, Lucas, I wanted to apologize, to tell you why – Look, everything was so beautiful when I was with you, and I was so fucking afraid of ruining things unintentionally I ruined them intentionally, but I regretted it as soon as it happened. I just – I just wanted to beg you to give me another chance, without any secrets between us. I – I… God. I was so fucking in love with you.”

The last words were breathed out so softly Lucas had to strain to hear them, almost as if Eliott hadn’t meant to admit that out loud.

“I didn’t know that,” he said pensively, softly. He wondered how he felt about knowing that it had been real for Eliott, as short-lived as it had been. It was bittersweet, realizing they both had been in love with one another, and yet, they hadn’t made it.

“I should have told you,” Eliott replied, even softer than before, then louder, “I should have told you, Lucas. You deserved to know. There is a lot I should have told you… But when you didn’t reach out after I left you those notes, I figured it didn’t mean as much to you as it did to me, so I backed off. But now you know, at least.”

He sounded sad, Lucas thought. And the idea of Eliott thinking it hadn’t meant anything to Lucas left a sour taste in his mouth.

“It did mean the same to me, though. I – I was in love with you too.”

It wasn’t easy to force out those words, to confess his feelings out loud, but maybe this could be the closure he needed after years of wondering and pining.

“You were?”, Eliott breathed, unbelieving.

Lucas nodded, and Eliott’s eyes lit up for the briefest of moments, before they dulled again.

“Oh, God. I really fucked up, didn’t I?”, he said, and his voice was laced with so much pain and sadness Lucas almost reached out for him.

“It’s okay,” he said. It wasn’t really, but it would have to be. “I fucked up too. It’s fine, though. It was a long time ago.”

Eliott looked at him, a storm blowing through his grey eyes. Lucas wished he could read them, but he hadn’t been able to decipher Eliott’s emotions back then, so it was futile to try now.

“It may have been a long time ago, but –”

He cut himself off, looking away from Lucas.

Lucas didn’t know why his heart suddenly started beating erratically, why he took a tiny step closer towards Eliott, why he put a shaking hand on Eliott’s arm. Eliott’s eyes whipped towards it, looking at Lucas’ hand touching his bare skin as if it was a mirage.

“But what?”, Lucas whispered, afraid of the answer, afraid of the tempest brewing inside him, afraid of letting Eliott walk out of his life again, afraid of never being able to love anybody else.

“But that doesn’t mean it’s over,” Eliott finally answered, after a long silence. His words hung heavy over them, like a pressure front coming in from over the ocean, moving too fast to predict the outcome.

Lucas stared at Eliott until Eliott looked back at him.

“What – what are you saying?”, he asked, not letting go of Eliott’s arm, trying to stare into his very soul.

“I never stopped loving you, Lucas.”

The answer came fast this time, and Eliott’s voice was calm, steady. He looked straight at Lucas, unwavering, certain of his words.

Something inside Lucas shifted. A chasm he hadn’t known was there closed within him, and he felt old wounds heal.

He couldn’t control the future and he couldn’t change the past, but he had a choice right here and now. Maybe he and Eliott weren’t meant to be back then. Maybe they weren’t meant to be ever. But he had loved the man in front of him for years, ever since he first saw him, and it seemed he had been loved for just as long, and maybe that meant something. Maybe it meant everything.

He took a deep breath.

He smiled at Eliott, and slowly, tentatively, Eliott smiled back, his sunny smile which Lucas hadn’t seen in years but which still made him feel like he was invincible.

“I’d like to come with you for that coffee, please,” he said.

[faofinn]

Psych 101 - Whumptober Day 11

This is set after Day 7, so give that a read first :) 

@whumptober2020

Harrison slept for an hour or so before waking with a quiet whine. Even in the darkness he recognised the room as Fao's and he smiled. Fao's was safe, basically home. With a clumsy hand he patted the bed until he found Fao, then shuffled his way across. 

Harrison's movement stirred Fao, just as he'd finally slipped off. But he was half asleep and used to being grabbed and snuggled up to by Finn anyway. His brain barely registered it was Hars, not Finn, and he wasn't bothered. He just groaned and pressed into the warm body next to him, easily drifting back into sleep. 

It was nice to be held, to have someone else to hold him instead of pushing him away. He looped his leg over Fao's, his head on his chest and arm draped over his abdomen. 

Mostly asleep and happy to be cuddled, Fao draped an arm around Hars and held him close. The contact was nice, he had to admit.

Harrison slept until Fao's alarm woke him, rolling away from Fao and onto his back. His head was pounding and he groaned, long and low. Even during his worst drinking sessions he usually never woke up as bad as he felt.

Fao wasn't too enamoured at the sound of his alarm either, and reached out to turn it off. “Mornin’, tomcat.” He said, voice rough. “Feelin’ shit?”

His first attempt at a response caught in his throat and he grunted in response.

Fao rolled over to look at him, propped up on his arm. “That bad?”

"'m dead."

“I hope not.”

"Am."

“You look pretty alive to me.”

"No." He groaned again and rolled over, his face pressed to the pillow. 

“Anything I can get you?”

"A drink. Can't go into work this hungover."

“You’re not going to work, but I’ll get you water.”

"Of course I'm going to work."

“Nah, they gave you the day off.”

"They didn't? I need to go."

“They did, when you were in last night it got sorted.”

He squinted at Fao. "I wasn't in last night."

“Trust me, you were.”

"You're lying. I went for a drink and… and then you must've come and picked me up."

“Hars, you know I don’t lie.” Fao said. “Not to you, anyway. You went for a drink, I found you off of your face from two drinks, dragged you to work and they kept you for a few hours. Fluids and shit, they think you were spiked. GHB.”

"That's bullshit. You're just trying to stop me from drinking again."

“I swear, I’m not. Check your arm, you had a cannula in last night.”

"It's an arm." He muttered without moving. "You're trained, you could have stabbed me."

“Might as well have done, I spent all night in A&E with you. You were in resus for a bit.”

"You're lyin'."

“I’m not.”

"Whatever. Just leave me here to die."

Fao reached out to give him a gentle shove. “Come on, stop sulking.”

“I’m not sulking. Stop it.”

“I’ll go get you some water.” Fao said, and dragged himself out of bed. 

“Thanks. You can drown me in it.”

“My glasses aren’t that big.” Fao muttered, and left. He returned with a cool glass of water for Harrison, and sat down to pass it to him. “Here. Don’t drown.”

He rolled over to shoot him a look. "Should let me drown."

“If I did that, last night would be a waste of time.”

“No, it would be nice.” He sighed, finally sitting up.  “Would be a mercy.”

“Nope, it wouldn’t.”

"You don't know what my head feels like."

“Want some painkillers?”

"I want a drink."

“Water only, sorry tomcat.”

“Please? I can’t go to work like this. I just need a little boost, that’s all.”

“You don’t need to go to work, I’ve told you. And I don’t want you drinking with drugs in your system, that’s what got you into trouble in the first place. They were worried about you having a respiratory arrest.”

“I wasn’t even drugged.”

“You were, though. What do you remember from last night?”

He frowned. His memory was hazy, often missing after blacking out and the previous night had been no different. Fao knew that.

"Nothing. Obviously."

“You normally remember the first three or four drinks, right?”

"I guess."

“Do you even remember getting to the pub?”

"Look, whatever. I need to get showered, I'm going to be late."

“I told you you're not on shift.”

"I am." He groaned, moving to stand. "I don't understand what you don't get."

“I literally spoke to your boss last night whilst I watched you in resus.” Fao grumbled. 

"I don't know who you took to resus, but it wasn't fucking me." He snapped back, leg hanging over the edge of the bed.

“Trust me, it was you. Call your boss, I don't care.”

"I don't know where my phone is...or my leg…" He turned to Fao. "What fucking day is it?"

Fao shrugged. “Friday? Your phone's downstairs and I put your leg by the bed, like always.”

"What's it doing down there?" Harrison muttered to himself, no thanks in sight. "Should be on my fucking leg."

“I took it off so you didn't break it in the night. Or break me.”

"It's my leg."

“Yeah, and I didn't want you breaking it.”

"I'm not going to break it." He grumbled. "I know what I'm doing."

As if to prove his point he stood, arms crossed and unimpressed as he faced Fao. He stayed upright a moment longer before he pitched forward and landed heavily on the bed. 

Fao snorted. “Know what you're doing, huh?”

"Yeah, I'm sitting down." Harrison swatted at Fao. "Fuck off."

“It's my house, don't tell me to fuck off.” He grumbled playfully.

"You kidnapped me."

“I took you home. Otherwise they'd have admitted you.”

"Kidnapped."

“Shush.”

"I can't get my leg on properly. Are you sure it's the right one?"

“Well I pulled it off of you last night.” Fao said. “Want me to sort it?”

"I just want a shower. I'm cold and gross."

“Your stuff’s in the bathroom.” Fao said. 

"I can't get to the bathroom." He whined, dropping his head to hide his tears.

Fao softened. “Come here, let me sort you out.” He said, getting up to kneel in front of Harrison and sort his leg. 

"I'm sorry."

“No need to be.”

"I was doing better with my drinking. I guess it was that paeds case? I don't...I don't actually remember."

“You were drugged. When I got there you'd had two and you were a mess. Yesterday was the wreck, that massive abdo bleed in resus…”

"I...no. youre making  it worse."

“Making what worse?”

"My head. You're just lying and making everything shit."

“I'm not lying. Go ahead and call your boss, check you're not on shift.”

“I can’t get my phone.”

“I’ll get it.”

“I don’t want it. You’ll give me a ride?”

“My car’s at the hospital.”

“Why’d you leave it there?” 

“It’s dirty.”

“That’s no reason to leave it there?”

“I didn’t want to drive home in it, and I doubt you did either. You puked in it.”

“When?”

“Last night.”

“You’re doing my head in, honestly.”

Fao laughed. “You’re not the only one.”

“I just...I just don’t understand.” He sighed. “You don’t understand. I can’t have been drugged.”

“Harrison, I saw it. I was there, the whole time you were in hospital. You’d only had two drinks and you passed out on me.” 

He shook his head. “You’re wrong.”

Fao looked up at him. “I promise I’m not lying. I was really worried about you last night.”

“No, you’re wrong. It’s all wrong.” He fought with his leg again, finally managing to get it secured before stumbling off. “It’s all wrong.”

“Harrison!”

“What?” He turned to face Fao, tears falling. “What do you want now?”

Fao didn’t say anything, just wordlessly pulled Harrison in for a hug, holding him close to his chest.

Harrison sobbed as Fao held him, completely breaking in his arms. He couldn’t remember half of the day before, couldn’t place what had happened at all and it terrified him. 

“Shh, shh. You’re alright, yeah? I’ve got you.”

“You have to be lying, you’ve got to be. It’s got to be all wrong.”

“I'm sorry, I wish it was.”

“Please, Fao. You’re lying. It’s not funny anymore.”

“I promise I wouldn’t lie to you.”

His legs gave way beneath him and he grabbed tighter onto Fao. It wasn’t real, none of it was happening.

Fao held him tight. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

“I can’t.”

“Come on, let’s sit.” Fao said, ushering Harrison back to bed.

He let himself be led back to the bed, sitting down in silence. His body shook with each sob and he couldn’t look at Fao, his head hanging low.

“Hey, it's okay, you’re okay.” Fao reassured. “I’ve got you, yeah?”

Harrison leaned back, gently tugging Fao with him. "Are you going to work?"

Fao shook his head. “I was always off today.”

"I don't want to be awake."

“Back to bed?”

"You won't let me drink."

“So back to bed, then. Come on, I'll chill with you.”

"Just one?" He asked, trying his luck as he settled down.

“Nope.” Fao said, settling next to him under the duvet. 

"A tiny one." He murmured, snuggling closer. "A teeny, tiny, little smidge."

“Not even a smidge. Doctor's orders.”

He draped an arm over Fao's chest. "You're not even a doctor."

“Dickhead.” He muttered affectionately. 

"Yeah, that's what you are." He laughed between tears. 

“You're such a twat. What am I? A butcher?”

"A wiggly worm catcher."

Fao snorted. “I don't even have a response for that.”

"I've got your next birthday present planned. Gonna get you the light up worm thingies. Build an empire."

“Don't spoil it.”

"Eh, you'll have forgotten by then."

“My birthday isn't that far away.”

"You're old though."

“‘m not that old.”

"Yeah, you are."

“Only because you're young and daft.”

He hummed. "You're still good though."

“Am I?”

Harrison nodded, almost asleep. "Yeah, very."

“Oh really?”

He made a quiet noise against Fao's side, the ghost of a smile flickering across his features.

“Idiot.” Fao said lightly. 

Harrison didn't sleep too much longer, waking up with a big yawn and a long stretch. Still half asleep, he curled closer to Fao, hoping the other man wouldn't mind the contact and almost pretending he was his.

Fao too had dozed off - it was still early, and he was tired - and stirred as Harrison did. He didn't quite want to break the silence, comfortable and warm, so just blinked his eyes open and held Harrison close. 

It was warm enough for Harrison to start to drift again, nestled against Fao's side. He couldn't help but tighten his grip on his top, stretching to get closer.

[jewishzevran]

this heart is starting to come to life

So earlier this week, @cullenvhenan posted this about her inquisitor immy lavellan and cullen in a modern au setting, and i couldn’t stop my little goblin hands from writing it. i had to keep putting my head on my desk and take deep breaths because they love each other so much and they just don’t realise yet buhuhu ;____;

Cullen groaned, and dropped his head against his steering wheel, wishing the ground had swallowed him up on the walk from the restaurant to his car. 

What a fucking disaster. 

She had been nice. She was pretty. She was interested in his hobbies, and had been respectful about avoiding the topic of war. Yet, by the end of the meal, he somehow felt even lonelier than when he had sat down. It had been two years since he had left Eliza and that whole Maker-forsaken mess behind, but she was still finding ways to ruin his night. 

He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. At least he had a couple of days off. 

The drive back to the apartment block was, thankfully, uneventful, and he pulled into his usual space feeling marginally less shit than he had done 15 minutes prior. Nodding to the security guard at the door, he checked the mail and then headed up the stairs. He'd go for a run with Mushy to clear his head, and hopefully tire himself out enough that he didn't spend six hours staring at the ceiling.

There was no familiar barking or tail wagging at the door when he stepped inside, and he frowned for a moment, wondering where Mushy had got to before he heard whining and sniffling from the lounge. Cullen took off his shoes and padded gently towards the source of the noise; when he pushed open the door his heart sank, because Mushy was sat in front of the couch whining and pawing at Immy, who was curled up on on it, knees pulled right against her chest and her face buried in her lap while she cried.

"Hey, hey, hey, Immy…" He said, walking quickly to the couch and crouching beside it, gently resting a hand on her leg. "What on earth is wrong?"

She started at his voice and her head snapped up, but she relaxed and sighed when she registered who he was. 

"Oh, Cullen." She said, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. "I didn't hear you come in."

Cullen shifted to sit next to her on the sofa, still looking at her with deep concern. He waited patiently for her to take several deep breaths, and felt around blindly for the box of tissues that he knew was on the coffee table. Mushy boofed quietly and nudged them into his hand.  

"It's my boss. Again." Immy finally said, wrinkling her nose and yanking a tissue from the box angrily. "Do you know how much work I've actually done in the lab this whole week? Ten minutes. Ten! He treats all of us like children, talking slowly when he explains the most basic alchemical concepts like none of us have degrees or training. I filled out my own appraisal today, Cullen, because he told me he couldn't be bothered. It's humiliating. We're fucking miserable, and all I ever hear is how lucky I am to work for such an esteemed alchemist." She rolled her eyes at the last two words, flopping back against the cushions. "I want to quit. I should quit. But I have bills to pay, and lab work is so much easier to find when you're already working in one, and it took me so long to find this one, and I…" She trailed off, looking at Cullen and biting her lip as her eyes filled with fresh tears. "I'm scared."

"I understand," he said, rubbing her leg soothingly. "It's okay to be scared. And it's okay to be angry. He treats you terribly and I wish there was something I could do to help."

Immy smiled gratefully, scratching Mushy's ears absent-mindedly. "Thanks, Cullen." There was a pause where they lapsed into comfortable silence, before Cullen had an idea. 

"Come on," he said, smiling and getting to his feet, holding a hand out to Immy. "Let's go to the corner shop. You need ice cream."

Immy raised an eyebrow. "You're the one always telling me off for eating dairy." She adopted a mockingly serious expression and lowered her voice into a terrible impression of his own. "You're lactose-intolerant, Imryll! Stop eating cheese, Imryll! Why have you got a milkshake, Imryll? You'll only make yourself feel worse later on!"

Cullen chuckled and rolled his eyes. "It's an emergency. I'll let it slide. Now come on."

Immy grinned and took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. “Fine. But you’re paying, and we get to buy treats for Mushy.”

The sun was just dipping behind the roofs as they stepped onto the pavement, and Cullen found himself enjoying the short walk to the shop. He and Immy were content in silence, and he watched as she hopped from paving stone to paving stone, skipping and twirling round lamp posts, dancing to music only she could hear. It was nice to see her like this for once; she spent so long working, and the rest of the time stressing about that work, that seeing her be herself was a rare sight these days. It was a welcome change. 

Cullen watched her in the store too, chatting happily to the clerk, who knew them well by now, smiling warmly as they both entered. She picked out ice cream, and managed to convince him to let her get two tubs, though both of them knew it wasn’t a hard sell. She snuck extra treats for Mushy onto the counter too, which Cullen pretended not to see, and Immy pretended were a total surprise to find in the bag. 

When she sank onto the couch, Cullen retrieved her favourite stuffed toy, and the pink fleece blanket that sat on the bottom of her bed, and tucked her in. She tried to protest but Cullen just raised an eyebrow, which, accompanied by a boof and tail wag from Mushy, was more than enough for her to relent. 

Five minutes later, they were settled in their usual position: Immy snuggled into one corner, legs stretched out, feet in Cullen’s lap, with Mushy curled up under Cullen’s arm on the other side. Immy tucked into her ice cream happily and raised an eyebrow skeptically when Cullen picked out their entertainment for the evening.

“A chess documentary?”

“What?” He replied defensively. "It’s informative, on a subject I like, and not nearly complicated enough to require our full attention.”

“Fine.” She said reluctantly, nudging him with her foot. “You’re lucky I like you, Cullen.”

He chuckled. “So you keep reminding me.”

It was about another half an hour later when Immy suddenly sat up, eyes wide. “Oh!” She said around a mouthful of dessert. “I completely forgot! How was your date?”

Cullen groaned in response. 

“That bad, huh?”

“It was… fine.”

“Buuuuut?” Immy encouraged, and Cullen sighed. 

“But it was just fine. It was… boring, really.”

“No spark?”

Cullen shook his head. “Nothing. She was nice and pretty and I barely remember anything we talked about. And the worst part is, I think I knew it would be like that before I arrived. I’m not even sure why I agreed to meet her in the first place.”

That part was a lie. He did know, but he couldn’t bear to admit it to Immy. He already felt pathetic, he didn’t want her to pity him on top of everything else. 

She smiled at him sympathetically. “Hey. It happens. At least it was forgettable as opposed to disastrous.”

“Well, there is that.”

“You know, like that time you went to Joe’s Bar, and-”

“Yes, thank you, Immy.” Cullen said, blushing furiously and glowering at her. “You know I swear the reason no one has forgotten that is because you keep bringing it up.”

Immy grinned. “Who? Me? Never.” 

It should have annoyed him, but for some reason, he just rolled his eyes and shook his head fondly. “You’re impossible, sometimes.”

“Look, someone has to keep you interesting, Mr ‘I-Watch-Chess-Documentaries-For-Fun’”

“Hey, you were getting really into it before you decided to bring up my shambles of a love life!”

Immy just stuck her tongue out, and took another large spoonful of ice cream. 

They watched the rest of the documentary, then Immy found some ridiculous foreign drama to watch that Cullen had never heard of, and they ordered take-out. The next several hours were mostly spent laughing. Immy stole his glasses to do a terrible impression of him sat at his date, and he helped her brainstorm outlandish scenarios in which her boss would get his comeuppance, and she would be appointed head of the lab and given crown funding from the King to do whatever research she fancied, and make dairy-free ice cream that didn’t taste like garbage. Mushy posed several interesting ideas, which Immy listened to intently and rewarded him with treats for, agreeing with everything and pretending to take notes. They shared food from each other’s plates and Cullen gave her the spare dumpling in the serving of five, because he knew it would get him a smile. 

It did, and her eyes crinkled with delight as he insisted she take it, and his heart definitely didn’t speed up when he noticed her dimples, or how endearing they were. He didn’t see them very often, but whenever he did, it was a smile that lit up her whole face, making her eyes sparkle. 

“It’s okay, you know,” she said quietly during a period of silence. “That you’re struggling. With dating, I mean.”

Cullen sighed and closed his eyes, putting his food down on the table. “It’s been two years, Immy.”

“That’s not that long.” She shifted position, rotating to lean against his shoulder, tucking her legs up underneath her. 

“Isn’t it?”

“Not after what happened, absolutely not.” Her hand came to rest on his knee. “Stuff like that takes time to get over.”

Cullen felt his jaw tighten. “But I-”

“But nothing, Cullen,” Immy said, lifting her head and turning to look at him. “You’ve been through a lot of shit. You wouldn’t say the same things to me, would you? That I was taking too much time to recover or that my progress was meaningless?”

He wanted to disagree, but she was right. He would never say those things to her. But she was kind, and passionate, and she spread light wherever she went, and he was just… him. He turned to meet her gaze, and she was looking at him with such a fierce intensity it momentarily stole his breath away. 

“Be kinder to yourself, Cullen.” She said, quietly. “You deserve it.”

"Thank you," he said, his mouth suddenly dry as sandpaper, "for listening to me. It… helps." She was so close he could count each individual freckle on her face if he wanted, a canvas of constellations he suddenly longed to chart. 

"I'll always listen," she replied. "You're my friend, Cullen."

The silence that followed only lasted a few seconds, but it might as well have been a millennia. Cullen's eyes flicked to Immy's lips, and it felt as if the entire world was holding its breath. His pulse thudded in his ears. How had he never noticed how nice her lips were before? 

A police siren wailed outside, and Cullen cleared his throat, pulling away and rubbing the back of his neck, feeling heat creeping up his face. "Yes. Well. I'm glad. You're mine too. My friend, I mean."

Immy was blushing as well, looking pointedly at anything that wasn't him, and he seized the opportunity to disappear before he embarrassed himself further.

"I'm going to. Um. Go for a run. Take Mushy. It'll help me sleep. Okay. Cool." He stood up from the sofa like it had burned him and nearly power walked into his room, closing the door far too loudly. He leant against it and slid down until he was sat on the floor, groaning loudly and banging his head against the wood. He could still smell her hair. It would have been so easy to reach out, to tangle his fingers in those beautiful, thick, black curls and press his lips against hers—

Oh. 

Oh no. 

He was fucked. 

[noa-halevy]

AIN’T NO PARTY LIKE AN S-CLUB PARTY:

Cool, so. Finally we can get some Hallowe’en shenanigans underway. I’m sorry it took so long. Lmao I’m also sorry for this whole ass mess and what will come of it.

Date: October 31st, 2020. Warnings: Hanging. Just in case. Also length, because this is extra.

“Look, we’ve just got one question. Answer it truthfully, and we’ll let him go...”

Yeah, like she fucking believed that.

When she glanced over the ‘him’ in question—forced to kneel on the concrete floor, a gun that she still couldn’t figure out how they’d snuck into the party pressed into the back of his head—Noa could see him shake his head fractionally. Not for me.

Always the fucking hero. It was why she loved him.

Fifteen minutes ago, they’d been hovering somewhere in the middle of the dance floor, having the time of their lives.

Now, the two French mobsters had been forced into a dimly lit room off of one of the tunnels, the music outside so loud that nobody could hear them scream.

Not exactly how she’d imagined her evening going, to be fair.

“Well, I’ve got a party to get back to, so if you wouldn’t mind hurrying the fuck up...”

They were Rutherford’s people, of that she was sure; the Asian woman looking for answers the same one who could so often be found at Lara’s side. Had it been anyone else, perhaps she could have put it down to her crass attitude rubbing someone up the wrong way—maybe Adrian was a little more delicate then he seemed—but when she realised that these were all people who shadowed one member of the opposing family in particular, she knew her luck had run out.

The question was an obvious one, and she was the answer.

“Who attacked Lara? Was it you or your sister?”

Until the words left her dumb fucking mouth, Noa hadn’t even considered the idea that if Lara did remember who’d been the one to tear her face to shreds, she mightn’t have been able to discern which of the twins was responsible for it. From the moment Varden and Évelyne had reprimanded her for attacking the woman without permission, she’d thought she’d considered everything; that they could come after her, that they could come after her daughter, that they could come after her husband. A case of mistaken identity, though? Perhaps it should’ve been a more obvious hazard.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It sounded convincing, but the woman in front of her rebuffed it with a roll of her eyes.

“My patience is thin,” she said, tone so calm Noa hadn’t expected her to turn around and throw out the order that the gun be used in her next breath. “Shoot him.”

What?

“Wait—wait!”

The protests, no matter how desperate, were in vain.

Despite the steady thrum of the bass line outside of the crumbling walls, the sound of the gun going off ripped through her drunken haze like the bullet ripped through its target. The woman’s bloodshot eyes were wide with horror as she watched the man keel over to the side and hit the ground like a tonne of fucking bricks. The only consolation—and she hated herself for being glad to hear it—was the sound of him crying out in agony. It echoed painfully until her blood ran cold. As he rolled onto his back, cursing out his attacker with every French insult under the sun, silence finally came in the form of a boot to his face.

They couldn’t bullshit their way out of this one.

Their attackers had them over a fucking barrel, and she was seething.

“It was the Russians!”

“Stop lying to me.”

“I’m not lying,” Noa snapped back, her chest heaving with every breath. “You just don’t want to hear the truth that your new friends aren’t as neatly under your thumb as you think they are.”

Before she could continue a pointless tirade she was sure they both knew was a lie, a hand grabbed her by the throat with so much force, it caught her off guard. By fuck she hoped the bitch knew how lucky she was that she couldn’t fight back.

“Lara pointed you out in the crowd,” the bitch continued, face coming to within an inch of her own as she muttered the words dangerously. “Would you like to try again?”

“Yeah? Well maybe your boss is just a dumb fucking cunt. Blind now, too, isn’t she?”

The second gunshot rang out without warning.

Not only did it startle Noa to the point that she flinched in Medea’s grip, but it seemed to surprise the woman crushing her throat, too—enough so that she turned to look at her companion with a hint of annoyance.

“Eitan. Enough.”

Despite the fact the one wielding the gun grumbled in response to the woman who apparently held his leash, there wasn’t a sound to be heard from the man who had taken his second bullet of the evening. In fact, if Noa hadn’t spared a sideways glance to make sure that he was still moving—dizzying relief following as she caught him attempting to reach for his other shattered knee—she might’ve assumed he was dead.

As dead as she was going to be if she couldn’t figure her way out of this…

“The party isn’t that big,” Medea once again spoke back to the fighter. “He shouldn’t be taking this long to find the other one.”

The other one presumably being her sister.

If the older Halévy was still in the company of Laurent, then good fucking luck to the sorry bastard who’d been given that task. It was some consolation she could cling on to, at least.

“If you think she’ll come quietly, you’ve got even less brain cells than your boss.”

The woman seemed to take a deep breath in through her nose at that—an adult trying their best to rise above the annoying pesters of an insolent child—before she all but snatched the gun out of her accomplice’s hand. Noa thought it would be pretty lucky on her part if the bitch didn’t immediately turn and use it to beat her mouth shut.

“Fewer,” Medea corrected.

“What?”

“It would be ‘even fewer brain cells than your boss’.”

Noa looked at her in silence.

“I don’t care whether she comes quietly,” she added, angrily. “I just want her to see this.”

Noa didn’t know what ‘this’ was, but judging by the crack in the tone of her voice, she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

---

“I came to this party last year. There’s definitely a room around here somewhere...”

“We’re going to get in trouble, aren’t we?”

The way she giggled suggested she didn’t mind the idea one bit.

The two youngsters—only a few years clear of being flat-out rejected on the door—had broken away from the main party in search of a little…privacy. Having wandered through the inebriated crowds for a while, he finally caught sight of the familiar passageway he’d been remembering in case he got lucky. Noting that a man was just leaving, he paused a moment to make sure his own guest wasn’t following behind. Then, sure as he could be that the coast was finally clear (and without much thought for the consequences) he quickly ducked inside, holding onto the hand of the girl who had been trying her level-best to catch his attention all night.

“This is kind of creepy.”

He’d laughed at that, using it as an excuse to pull her closer.

“Well, it is Hallowe’en, no?”

Their hushed French echoed in the tunnels, only underscored by the thumping of the DJ’s next song choice a room over. It was amazing that it was almost loud enough to feel, even here. Her hand seemed to tighten around his; her apprehensive path edging her closer. For a moment, his patience stretched so thin he contemplated pushing her up against the wall there and then, but she seemed intent on the idea of having a door to hide behind.

Ugh.

When they finally reached the threshold of the room, the sounds of talking caught them off guard.

Had somebody already taken their spot?

Perhaps, had they been smarter—or at the very least, more aware of the types of guests they were sharing their night with—they would have turned around and walked back to the bar. Had a few more drinks, thrown up in the taxi home, and bragged to their friends about something that never really happened because they were too drunk. As it was, the beautiful brunette, smile as cheeky as her wandering hands had been earlier, decided that she wanted to get a better look.

Even though he’d been about to protest, she’d dragged him along for the ride.

Who was he to say no?

The sight that greeted them was one neither could’ve imagined in their wildest dreams.

Considering the fact he’d been wearing the same grin from the moment he’d first laid eyes on his companion, the speed in which it faded to sheer horror was astounding.

For a moment, he’d thought the woman in front of them was dead.

The silhouette standing beneath her, apparently watching to be sure the makeshift noose around the French loyalist’s neck held as she swung from the ceiling, didn’t seem to register them at first. But whilst the horrified woman at his side was smart enough to keep her mouth shut, his lips had parted before he could even think about the repercussions of involving himself in this.

“No—”

Her name got stuck in his throat.

All the saliva seemed to leave his mouth; all ability to string together a real sentence right after.

The familiar brunette was still alive, he thought, but the way her eyes rolled back into her head—the way her hands could no longer find a grip on the rope around her neck—made it seem like she was teetering.

Were they…witnessing a fucking murder?

“What’s going on here?”

Maybe a part of him liked to think he was brave.

That he could be the kind of person who did the right thing in a situation like this instead of turning around and running away and making it somebody else’s responsibility.

Gabriel might’ve disliked his father, but he’d surely inherited some of his better qualities.

The way he could hear his heartbeat pounding in the words that left him, however, left him unsure of whether he was worthy of the comparison. All thoughts of his new girlfriend flew out of the window, despite the fact she had his hand in a death grip. There was a woman literally hanging from the ceiling. All he could think to do was lunge forward and try to help. This was Noa, for crying out loud. The woman was practically his family.

Even if he’d had a rational enough thought in his mind to consider going to get help, it would’ve surely been too late.

At first he’d been glad to see that the sound of his voice seemed to bring her back to some level of consciousness. That she seemed to be grabbing at the rope with some purpose again.

Then he realised it was panic he could see in her eyes instead of relief.

When the sound of a shriek came from behind him, it became abundantly clear why.

The woman who stood intent to hang his Godmother had a gun.

---

The last thing she’d wanted was for him to be the distraction they needed.

The last thing she’d wanted was to be the last face he saw.

It was only four gunshots that followed; precise, professional, cold.

Two for each kid she’d gunned down. An even split.

The pulse crashing in Noa’s temples grew more painful as each second passed; doubly so as she let out a strangled sob at the sight of the bodies crashing to the floor. No. Absolutely not. This couldn’t be happening. The room was closing in on her, she was sure of it. It felt like she was going blind—from the lack of oxygen, and the fucking pressure.

But maybe that would’ve been too kind a mercy.

Instead, she couldn’t tear her vision from the lifeless body.

Noa hadn’t thought much about how her final moments would play out, but she’d never expected to be thinking about this. To be considering what Varden was losing, instead of her husband and daughter having to go on without her.

“Halévy.”

Her name rose above her thoughts as a grunt. Just jarring enough to bring her back from the brink of wanting it.

As her eyes drifted toward the source of the voice, she remembered that Ludo was still with her. That despite the best efforts of the Rutherfords, he was still fucking breathing.

Barely.

Medea seemed preoccupied with investigating the youngsters she had just murdered.

For the brief moment in which her back was turned, Noa looked toward her friend. Though her hands still gripped at the rope above her head, she didn’t have the strength to keep her weight off for much longer. The Rutherford assassin had wanted her to struggle—had offered her up the means to do so—because this was just as much about her suffering as it was her murder. It seemed like the woman’s plan to have her sister witness the slow death had gone to shit, though, because there was no fucking way she was going to last another minute…

Or at least, that was what she’d thought.

Maybe it was shock, maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was pure spite—knowing Ludo, more than likely a combination of the three—but the Frenchman somehow managed to drag himself to his feet. The movement was fast. If it hadn’t been, she wasn’t sure he would’ve managed it at all. Before her brain could catch up, he’d stumbled toward her, arms outstretched, body heaving. He couldn’t pull her down. He couldn’t cut the rope. But he could put himself beneath her—positioning her to sit on his shoulders—offering the brief window of leverage she needed to loosen the rope around her neck.

Noa was barely conscious. Thinking was an entire fucking process.

“Noa, you have to hurry up. Get the rope. I can’t—”

If the words hadn’t been enough to snap her back to their bleak reality, the fact that Medea had turned around when she’d heard them had.

Fuck.

Like one final spark of life shot back through her—desperate and stubborn—shaky hands reached up to the amateur knot at the side of her neck. The weight of her body had already tightened it so much she wasn’t sure she could loosen it. Her fingers kept slipping, unable to keep a hold. It felt like she was trying to grasp at air. Nothing.

Why couldn’t she fucking grab it?

“What the fuck are you doing? Stop!”

Even though she lifted the gun in her hands for a final time, Ludovic didn’t flinch.

Fumbling, straining, trying her hardest to keep her balance on her friend’s shoulders; eventually Noa managed to drag the rope from around her neck, ducking her head out a moment later. But she didn’t even get the chance to take her first real breath before Medea unleashed her fury on the man who’d helped.

Ludo fell to the ground, and this time, the bullet wasn’t meant as a punishment.

She hadn’t left any room for him to play the hero twice.

With nothing holding her up now, when the body of the French loyalist slumped to the ground, she’d tumbled along with him; unforgiving concrete meeting her head with such force she was surprised it hadn’t been enough for her to black out.

It was the chance she needed, though.

God, she couldn’t go out like this.

Medea tossed the empty gun to the side, staring her down with the coldest glare Noa had ever seen.

“What are you going to do?” It was a taunt she likely hadn’t expected to work in her prey’s favour. The anger in Noa spiked as she continued, “run?”

The Rutherford reached down to her leg to pull out a knife.

It was just enough of a distraction for the Frenchwoman, now on her feet, to make her move.

There was nothing left for her to lose and she was all out of options. Either it was time to die like a coward—for Ludo’s sacrifice to be in pitiful vain—or she mustered up the fight get the fuck out.

So she lunged.

If Noa hadn’t been so dazed and pained and disoriented, the Rutherford wouldn’t have stood a fucking chance. With every ounce of her anger and frustration weighing behind her, she threw her entire body at the assassin, dragging her down to the floor in a bluntly painful tangle of limbs. Noa pinned her to the concrete, merciless. Her shaky hands found the curve of her throat with ease; grabbing immediately with such force she was surprised she didn’t crush her windpipe.

Fuck, she wanted to.

Medea was startled enough that it took her a moment to regain her bearings.

To remember that she had a fucking knife.

The thought had skipped Noa’s mind entirely, too, until the searing pain fanned out from her side and weakened her like the cunt was deflating a fucking balloon.

Despite the knife wedged just below her ribs—and boy did she scream bloody murder at that—Noa brought her fist down to meet Medea’s face with shattering force. Cartilage and bone. All she wanted was to see her bleed. Once, twice, until the agony in her side denied her a third. The adrenaline that’d kept her alive until now could only hold up for so long, apparently.

The woman was conscious, but dazed. Barely moving.

This was her shot.

Noa clambered to her feet sluggishly.

She’d barely made it half way before her legs gave out.

The pain was so intense and all consuming that she wasn’t even sure if it the knife was solely to blame anymore. So she crawled. Dragged herself—each movement more agonizing than the last—closer to the doorway that would take her back out to the party. To help.

She could hear Medea moving behind her now.

Perhaps she had the same fucking idea.

Noa didn’t dare look back. Not even as a means to spur herself on.

The sounds of the party were growing louder. She could smell the cologne, taste the blood in her mouth, feel the embrace of those who were likely looking for her. The cold beneath her finger tips faded. It felt like her vision was following suit.

But the door was right there.

“Get the fuck back here,” the woman, hot on her tail, spluttered.

As if the light from the next room was all she needed, Noa eventually managed to get to her feet once more, falling against the wall for support. It would hold her.

Just a few more steps.

When she finally made it through the doorway to the party, nobody even noticed her.

How many people were walking around with fake knives hanging out of them?

How many people already looked half dead?

But this time, the bitch that followed was her saving grace instead of the one to take it all away. When she grabbed at Noa’s legs and dragged her down to the floor once more, people fucking noticed the impact. They noticed the clambering. They noticed that this wasn’t some drunk disagreement between two women but a real problem.

They were a fucking mess.

When Medea got to her feet, only to deliver a forceful kick to her ribs to put her on her back, it was as though nobody else in the room fucking existed.

Just them.

Neither cared.

They just wanted the other to hurt.

As the assassin helped herself to the knife she’d so carelessly left behind in her target’s side, the last thing Noa saw was her wielding it above her, ready to finish the job.

Someone was heckling.

It was loud. Felt louder than the music.

Before she could realise it was people coming to her aid, both the faces above her and last remnants of the party’s lights faded from vision.

Then there was nothing.

[taestfully]

Falling for mafia!BTS | Hyung line

Request: Headcanon of dating mafia boss bts?? Like maybe how you’d meet them or something??? Thank you!!

A/N: Had to split this up because ya girl got a little carried away 😂 Please enjoy!!

(ps - this is written with a female reader and it also contains hints of smut as well as mentions of guns and violence!)

Seokjin

• the only thing more lethal than mafia boss Kim Seokjin is his incredibly good looks

• hot damn

• his looks are what attracts you to him initially when you first meet him

• what also attracts you to him is his charming personality

• you actually meet him through work

• you took on an internship at the business he is CEO of

• and you freak out because having a hot af boss is something that really only happens in movies

• Jin takes an interest in you right from the get go

• he isn't shy about flirting with you

• he’ll ask you to do things for him just to have you near him often

• which you don't mind

• literally every person in the office, male or female, is in love with Jin and would do anything to be close to him

• you get a vibe that he’s into you pretty early on

• but you don't think too much of it because you assume that you’re just a little toy to occupy his time

• something pretty for him to look at

• and as hot as he is you kinda don't want to be just a play thing

• besides he probably has like 764674865 other women throwing themselves at him

• but Jin asks you on a proper date

• he invites you into his office for a ‘private meeting’

• your heart is doing flips inside your chest

• Jin is sitting in his chair, suit jacket folded neatly over the back of it

• he’s casual about the whole thing

• he’s confident you won’t refuse him

• god I mean have you seen him??? he has no reason to be shy

• he takes you to a five star restaurant 

• like this place has a dress code okay

•you feel sort of out of place amongst the sea of amazingly dressed rich people

• but Jin is kind to you through the whole thing

• “thank you for coming with me, (y/n). I hope you enjoy yourself tonight.”

• and he’s a complete gentleman

• opening doors for you, offering you his coat, telling you that you look lovely

• he’s a dream and you’re won over after the first date

• so Jin does not hide the fact that you’re his

• it’s his business and he doesn't care if other people think it’s inappropriate to date a subordinate

• you’re the envy of everyone in the office 

• the other women give you the stink eye on the daily

• you’re in his office quite frequently

• ….for business reasons of course

• *cough* *cough*

• ;))

• so the whole mafia thing lol I’m sorry for rambling

• you find out when you overhear Jin talking to someone over the phone

• he’s pretty angry and he’s letting curse words fly that would’ve made his mother blush

• he’s never this out of sorts

• Jin never uses strong language around you so hearing him talk like that has you worried

• he says something about a shipment and you figure it’s about work until you hear him tell whoever is on the other end of the phone to kill whoever intercepted the shipment

• and by the sound of his voice he’s not saying that just out of anger

• he means it

• when he notices your presence outside his office he freezes

• he runs after you when you try to get away

• you fight him off when he grabs you but he’s way stronger than you

• takes you back to his office to explain

• the whole mafia thing seems so surreal to you

• Jin uses the business as a front

• a platform

• it’s his family business and he’s just recently taken over as CEO and boss of the family’s mafia gang

• he promises not to hurt you

• ever

• tears are in his eyes when you reject him

• but of course you do

• you don't want to be with a criminal

• “I can’t be with a murderer!”

• it breaks his heart to hear you say that

• he tells you he loves you then

• and it hurts you because you’ve grown to love him too but you just don't know what to do

• Jin asks for a chance

• just one

• you accept against your better judgement

• dating a mafia boss is an experience you never thought you’d go through

• Jin keeps a close eye on you all the time

• he says that you being with him makes you a target

• he invites you to live with him in his home

• it’s a mansion

• and you’re blown away by the grandeur of it 

• you’re pampered beyond compare

• you live like a queen

• oh he calls you his princess all the time

• well because you are

• he treats you so well

• the aggressive side of him you saw that one night is never shown around you

• Jin is so sweet to you that you forget he’s the boss of one of the most feared mafias in the country

• “I love you, my princess.”

•Jin likes to whisper lovingly in your ear while in bed as he holds you

• and you feel safe with him

• you love him and nothing else really matters

Yoongi

• you meet Yoongi at the bar you work at

• it’s a rinky dink place so you wonder why this sharply dressed man is here

• he’s with a few other men who are also dressed well

• they stick out amongst the crowd of people

• Yoongi is pretty quiet and you feel slightly intimidated by him

• the group of men with him should’ve intimidated you

• but there’s something so different about him

• you know right away he is the leader of the posse of men

• he doesn't give you a second glance when he orders a drink

• you’re so busy looking at him that you don't register where the counter actually is

• so you drop the glass when you go to put it down in front of him

• whiskey gets on his suit

• and you don't know why but you’re fearing for your life

• well you do know why and it’s because the men with him start glaring your way

• they probably have means to kill you but Yoongi waves a hand at them disinterestedly

• he’s so unbothered but you’re freaking out

• “I’m so sorry! oh my god, that looks like a really expensive suit, too! I-I can help get it dry cleaned or something!”

• you actually can’t because you’re broke af

• he seems to already know it too

• “don’t worry about it. it’s just a suit. I have more than just this one. besides, the alcohol should wash out.”

• he looks so bored

• but he finally looks up at you

• you’re shocked to see that underneath the rough demeanor, his eyes are very soft

• they look like they are meant to be filled with joy rather than the current expression of cool indifference

• you don’t see him for a while after that

• but he comes back and you remember what he ordered last time

• you give him his drink without spilling it

• he smirks

• “I see you’ve gotten better at bartending.”

• this kind of rubs you the wrong way and you’re telling him off before you realize what you’re doing

• “I’m a good bartender, actually. I was just distracted by you and your lovely group of friends that looked like they wanted to shoot me where I stood!”

• Yoongi laughs at this

• “ah, you’re a lively one. I usually don’t have people stand up to me like this.”

• “well there’s a first for everything.”

• “I’m Yoongi.”

• “(y/n).”

• Yoongi frequents the bar a lot after that

• you get used to his friends

• and you can’t help but form a crush on him

• you want to think he likes you too because he comes so often and only accepts the drinks you make

• he won’t drink it if another bartender makes it

• he takes you home one night after your shift

• he waits up on you in the alley outside

• his car is foreign 

• he kisses you before you get out of the car to go inside your home

• and really you shouldn’t but it feels so right

• things escalate and soon the two of you are in your bed, discarding clothes left and right

• but after that night Yoongi disappears and you’re left very confused

• when he does show up again he doesn’t acknowledge you

• instead he occupies himself with a group of men that look as equally as dangerous as his

• things happen so fast you can’t catch up

• all you know is that in the next moment Yoongi is pulling out a gun

• he shoots one of the men and all chaos breaks loose inside the bar

• Yoongi finds you and grabs you, pulling you outside

• “where are we going? Yoongi, what’s going on?!”

• he takes you to what you assume is his house

• you don’t have time to acknowledge the impressiveness of it because he’s taking you straight inside

• “listen to me. you need to stay here for a while. you’ll be safe here.”

• you’re so confused

• “Yoongi who were those men? why did you....why did you shoot that guy?”

• “let’s just say he messed with the wrong group of people.”

• fuck 

• Yoongi is in the mafia

• you don’t really have a moment to think about it because he’s taking you in his arms

• “fuck I’m so sorry. I thought being away from you would protect you.”

• so he ignored you to protect you?

• after that things are different

• you quit bartending and stay with Yoongi

• you try to forget the fact that he’s in the mafia

• he’s your boyfriend and that’s all you focus on

• he’s really sweet to you

• he gets caught up in his work a lot but he tries to be with you as much as possible

• and eventually his friends warm up to you and stop sending you death glares all the time

Hoseok

• Jung Hoseok is very tricky

• he seems very nice

• but under that smile is danger

• better steer clear if you know what’s good for you

• he owns a nightclub as a front for his mafia business

• it’s very popular and a lot of people including celebrities frequent it often

• you happen to visit in hopes of letting loose from a stressful week with your friends

• and it just so happens that Hoseok is there too to make sure things are running smoothly

• you bump into him on accident after having too much to drink

• you’re instantly attracted the moment you set your eyes on him

• he has half a mind to tell you off but he thinks you’re pretty so he lets the whole thing slide

• he turns to walk away

• you blurt out that you think he’s hot

• he laughs you off

• he’s used to women fawning over him

• you ask him to dance with you

• if you knew who you were talking to you might not have asked the way you did

• but you’re so drunk it’s insane

• “not tonight, sweetheart.”

• even after sobering up you remember your encounter with him

• you keep returning to the club in hopes of seeing him again

• you meet him again when he saves you from some prick trying to make unwanted advances on you

• “thanks for saving me.”

• “don’t mention it. what’s your name, sweetheart?”

•  "(y/n).”

• “well, (y/n), maybe I should take you up on that dance.”

• Hoseok dances with you and you’re the first person he’s ever done so with in a long time

• he usually never indulges in the people he comes across in the club

• but you’re beautiful and there’s something about you he wants more of

• so he invites you to the club’s VIP section

• very limited amount of people are allowed in

• he tells the bouncers that you have full access to everything the club offers

• you start to fall for him pretty early on

• his smile is bright and addicting

• and he treats you like royalty

• everything starts out slow and then everything goes so fast you can’t keep up

• one minute you’re just a favored guest at his nightclub

• the next you’re in his office, sitting on his desk as he’s kissing you like you’ve never been kissed before

• you’re relationship is unconventional

• but you’re happy

• eventually though you get this feeling that he’s hiding something from you

• something big

• you don’t realize what it is until you’re walking into his office, seeing him with a gun in hand that’s aimed at some man you’ve never seen before

• there’s men standing behind him, glaring up at you because of your intrusion

• all hell breaks loose

• you’re grabbed by one of his men

• the man Hoseok is pointing the gun at starts to make a run for it before being grabbed by the collar by Hoseok

• he looks at you with a mix of anger and worry in his eyes

• “Yoongi, get her out of here!” he barks at the man who’s holding you

• you’re made to sit in the VIP section

• you freak when you hear the sound of a gunshot

• you have the urge to run but Hoseok is there before you can get away

• “sweetheart, let me explain -”

• “no way! this is madness!”

• he begins to panic because holy shit he’s never cared so much for someone

• he doesn’t want to lose you

• he tells you everything

• he tells you that he’s in the mafia

• that he’s the leader

• he promises that he’ll never allow anyone to harm you

• he vows to give you a happy life

• he begs you to love him despite everything

•you want to love him, you really do

• and everything in you is telling you to run

• but you can’t imagine life without Hoseok

• you don’t know if you could make it without seeing that bright smile of his

• “please don’t make me regret giving you this chance.”

• but really though despite him being in the mafia, dating Hoseok is an absolute dream

• he takes you on so many trips

• he treats you like a queen

• you’re the love of his life 

• and anything to do with his mafia business is not even remotely brought up when you’re around

Namjoon

• Namjoon is a young CEO of a successful company

• he’s young, rich, extremely handsome, and single

• everybody wants to be him

• everybody wants him

• he visits the local library a lot

• it’s odd because he’s so rich and can go anywhere he wants yet he keeps coming to this run down library

• it’s where you meet him

• well you don’t meet him right off the bat

• you do just like the other girls and sit quietly with a book in your hand while sneaking quick peeks over at him

• all the girls love him

• the librarian is practically in love with him

• he’s so polite and respectful and loves to chat about books

• you can see the stars in her eyes when he’s talking to her

• she hits on him occasionally

• she’ll tell him how her husband has passed away and she’s lonely

• she says he should come over for tea and talk more about books

• Namjoon doesn’t ever miss a beat though

• he declines her politely every time and he’s so nice about it that she’s never upset

• he reads a lot of books

• he’s there for hours with his nose in a book

• he always stays in the non-fiction section

• you’ve come to notice he likes to read philosophy and world history books

• you don’t ever start a conversation with him

• he seems nice enough but you’re always so nervous you just can’t find the courage to just do it

• so you just stay to yourself mostly and fantasize about him whenever you lose interest in a book you’re reading

• the first time you talk to him is when you venture into the non-fiction section

• you can’t reach a certain book but before you know it it’s being picked up by someone else

• “here you go.”

• you have a mini panic attack because Kim Namjoon is currently looking you eye to eye

• it’s a moment you’ve only dreamed of

• “oh....thank you.”

• he smiles and asdfghjkl his dimples

• “I see you around here a lot. what’s your name?”

• “it’s (y/n).”

• he offers you the book and you take it nervously

• “I’m Namjoon.”

• you want to point out that you already know his name but save yourself from the awkwardness

• it’s not like you haven’t been silently watching him for months now like a creeper lol

• but he doesn’t need to know that

• “oh...it’s nice to meet you.”

• you’re mentally kicking yourself because you’re so awkward

• he smiles and motions to the book

• “that’s a good book. you’ll enjoy reading it. I’ve read a few times myself.”

• see the thing is is you have no clue what it’s actually about at all

• but you agree with him and smile back

• you start to turn around to find a table to sit at when Namjoon calls your name

• the way he says it is just so asdfghjkl

• “mind if I join you while you read?”

• you freeze and fifty millions things are going in your head

• a nod of your head is your lame reply

• so the two of you actually fall into a routine of meeting at the library to read together whenever you can

• you get to know Namjoon more and more each day

• and just when you think you’re crush can’t get any bigger

• it does

• and before you know it your crush turns into all out feelings

• you don’t think Namjoon could possibly feel the same way until one night you’re stuck at the library late

• and the two of you are putting up your books

• you look up at him as he puts the last one away and he looks down at you

• and then he’s leaning down to place a soft kiss on your lips

• “kissing in a library? very scandalous. I bet the librarian would freak.”

• Namjoon smirks

• “believe it or not, scandalous is sort of my thing. besides, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

• there’s this devilish look in his eyes you’ve never seen

• and then soon enough you go from sneaking kisses behind books to Namjoon taking you against the shelves

• you find out he’s in the mafia when you’re attacked while leaving the library

• the attacker says something about payback for what Namjoon and his family did to his

• he said Namjoon is going to pay for killing his brother

• and in a blink of an eye you’re staring into the barrel of a gun

• the man means to shoot you but Namjoon is faster

• the man is shot dead and you’re so shocked you can’t even move

• Namjoon takes you to his car to take you somewhere safe

• but you wonder if being with him is even safe at all

• “there’s some things about me that I’ve been hiding from you, (y/n). dangerous things.”

• he explains everything — that he’s the leader of Bangtan, an extremely powerful and feared mafia group

• he tells you that being with him puts you at risk, makes you a target

• “I love you, okay? I won’t let any harm come to you, baby. but if you don’t want this, if you don’t want this life, I understand.”

• at first you don’t want it

• you’re scared, terrified

• but then you see him again weeks later at the library and you realize you miss him

• and you throw caution to the wind and decide to be with him

• Namjoon is the best man you’ve ever been with

• he adores you and tells you every day that you’re amazing and that he loves you

• he still takes you to the library

• you feel safe and secure with him despite who he is because he never fails to prove to you that he’ll do anything to protect you