#my pairing knife desperately needs it the steel isn’t helping as much as it should anymore

[fulokis]

My whet stone came today I’m so excited

[vennilavee]

poisoned apples

pairing: levi x reader- grad school/boxer au summary: you tell your parents about levi and they aren’t too happy. so you do the logical thing and break up with him.  word count: 4039 warnings: blood, fighting, angst, oc’s family is very annoying (her family is against her and levi being together), levi is lowkey creepy for like 1% of this story, SMUT AT THE END (18+) a/n: another installment of perpendicular heavily inspired by the first gen experience and dating...enjoy. and ty to @bbygrgu​ for catching when i made dad a mafia boss by accident

The first time you had told Levi that your parents wouldn’t approve of him, he had shrugged it off. What did it matter, anyway? He’s never known you to care very much about what other people think.

But your parents’ approval was different.

You’ve always been the apple of their eye, their youngest princess who could and would do no wrong. Even when you kept your grades up in high school, when you were the picture perfect daughter- they didn’t know what you were up to. You had maintained your image of innocence until the moment you could move out for college.

They didn’t know what you were up to behind the scenes in college. And now, in graduate school.

They didn’t know that you smoked with your boyfriend, that your boyfriend had split knuckles from boxing more often than not. But they also don’t know that your boyfriend works two jobs to support his sick mother, that he’s in the top ten percent of his masters in computer science program and will surely have a job lined up after graduation.

They don’t know that you love him. They don’t know how much he loves you- how he’d walk the ends of the earth for you. How he’s your pillar, your person. They don’t know that despite the cold steel of his eyes, he has the biggest beating heart of anyone you know.

Because you haven’t told them. You know your parents better than anyone- that they’ll judge him before they know him. 

You’ve been together officially for the better part of nearly a year. And officially, it’s been a little longer. Levi can tell when something’s on your mind by this point- from how your pout turns a little thoughtful and your eyes are far away.

He wraps an arm around your shoulders and rubs your upper arm. “What is it?” Levi asks quietly.

“Huh?” You ask, breaking out of your reverie and turning your gaze towards him. A fading bruise sits on his jaw, and you thumb the area around it tenderly.

“You’re quiet today.”

“Maybe I’m just tired.”

Levi raises his eyebrow at you, as if to wordlessly say “really?”

You’re silent for a few moments before sighing and leaning into his chest. “I think I want to tell my parents about you.”

Levi will never pressure you about things like that- he knows where he stands with you and you know where you stand with him. But he won’t deny the small upturn of his lips.

“I’ve already met your mom and your uncle,” You continue softly, “I think I’ll tell them.”

You’ve told Levi about your parents before- about how you had to secretly and cleverly maneuver through the invisible rules they had you under. How you still find trouble spreading your wings. How most of your childhood was mainly you being told not to bring trouble, that your parents had it hard as it was-

“Always knew it.”

“What did you know?” You roll your eyes at him.

“You’re naughty,” Levi smirks, “You put up this pretty princess persona. But I know you. You’re smart and vicious and not afraid to get dirty.”

“You sure? You know it’s nothin’ to me if you wanna wait,” Levi murmurs, nose in your hair.

“Yeah,” You nod, “I think it’s about time. I… want them to know you.

“I love you,” You say almost shyly and Levi drops a slow kiss to your lips in response.

And that’s that.

Needless to say, the next time you saw your parents a few weeks later you were planning on telling them about Levi. Nerves seized you- despite your attempts at convincing yourself that they’d be happy for you- that you’d found someone who loves you wholly and completely…. You can’t help but think that something is about to go wrong.

It’s over dinner that you’re planning on telling them. Your older brother and older sister are in town as well, and are helping Mom with setting the table as you wash the pots and pans.

This is where you grew up, and yet you’ve never felt so uncomfortable.

Once there are five plates of hot food and glasses of water in front of your parents and your siblings, you take a deep breath.

“I have something to tell you,” You say clearly, resisting the urge to pick at the hem of your brown corduroy skirt.

Four pairs of eyes turn to you curiously and expectantly.

“I’m seeing someone,” You say, your voice a little less confident than before. Mom gasps excitedly, bringing a moment of relief to your senses. Your siblings stare at you unnervingly, as if they can see right through you. Dad only looks at you with wide eyes.

You don’t know what to think.

“Tell us about them!” Mom says eagerly.

“Umm… well,” You stammer with heated cheeks, “He treats me well. We go to the same school, he’s doing a masters in computer science…”

That makes Mom and Dad’s eyes light up. You roll your eyes. Still, your siblings say nothing.

“Show me a picture,” Mom demands, stretching her hand out for your phone. Desperation for her approval clings to your heart like a synapse that never stopped surging. 

“He looks oddly familiar…” Mom murmurs with narrowed eyes, “Do you know him? Where do I know him from...” She turns her head to your brother and sister. 

They’ve never been particularly good at lying. Or rather, this time- they just didn’t want to. 

“That’s the guy,” Your sister says, not meeting your eyes, “The one we saw her with. The one we told you is in a fight club-”

Your jaw drops, and no noise comes out of your throat. Horror lines your tongue and you have to squeeze your nails into your palms to stop panic from flooding your veins.

But your brother is shameless and always has been. He looks you dead in the face, something cruel spinning in his irises and says, “His name’s Levi. Ackerman. We saw-”

“So you’re spying on me now?” You hiss, the full weight of their actions not quite hitting you, “You both don’t have anything fuckin’ better to do?”

Mom gasps at your language. You scoff at her, throwing a nasty look her way. She deflates only slightly- because she’s never seen such a look on your face before.

“You’re our baby sister,” Your brother says, and you stand abruptly from the table, pointing an accusing finger at him. “We only want you safe.”

“I don’t need your concern!” You hiss at him, eyes narrowed to slits and flames licking your words.

“If it wasn’t for us, you’d be parading around with a washout who boxes illegally! You should be thanking us,” Your sister says, returning your fire.

“No,” You seethe as tears of frustration spring into your eyes, “He treats me well, he’s so good to me. He respects me, isn’t that what matters?”

Before anyone can counter you-

“Enough!” Dad bellows as he stands from his seat. The heat in your belly extinguishes, but only barely. You tear your blazing eyes away from your siblings and to your father, about to scream right back at him. 

“If this is true,” Dad continues, “If this Levi boxes illegally-”

“He doesn’t have money either, Dad,” Your sister supplies. 

“Oh my god,” You screech, “You’re such a-”

“If this is true, you won’t be seeing him anymore. I don’t want to hear about this again. And if you think about seeing him behind our backs… we’ll know. And you won’t be getting that tuition money for school anymore.”

You’ve never hated them as much as you did right at that moment.

Your heart hasn’t felt the same since you were home that weekend. It’s been a few days, and you haven’t reached out to Levi yet.

You need to break up with him, you know it. You won’t risk your education on him, no matter how awful it is for your parents to very much blackmail you with it.

It hurts that you don’t have their approval. 

You’re delaying the inevitable. So when Levi shows up to your apartment on the following Wednesday with your dinner from your favorite Thai restaurant, you feel your heart shattering already. 

“Hey, princess,” Levi says smoothly, dropping the food to the dining table and trying to pull you into his arms for a kiss. You turn your cheek at the last minute, not able to look him in the eye. 

Levi immediately knows something is wrong- you’re never this silent. Your hands are pressed against his chest, almost holding him away from you. 

In the last year and change that he’s known you, he’s never known you to reject his touch. Not like this.

“What’s wrong?” Levi asks, cradling your cheek. Your lips are parted, a shaky exhale expelling from them. Your eyes are a little red and puffy.

You’ve been crying. You’ve been crying and he had no idea.

“Levi,” You mumble in a small voice. As if you’re trying to memorize the way his name feels on your tongue.

“Princess,” Levi replies, worry beginning to creep into him.

“I told my parents about us,” You mumble, the confession adding to the tension of the room, “And my brother and sister.”

He stays quiet, waiting for you to continue.

“I can’t… they said I can’t be with you. They said they won’t help me with school if I’m with you,” You mutter, feeling foolish as the words slip from your lips, “They don’t want me to be with you.”

Levi steps back from you exactly two steps and it feels like he’s plunged a knife into your chest. The loss of his touch echoes in the emptiness of your hands. You cross your arms across your chest unsurely. He stares at you in silence for a few deafening moments. Your ears might bleed from the silence.

“So what are you saying?” He finally asks after a minute.

“That I can’t be with you. I-I’m… I’m breaking up with you, Levi,” You finally muster out. Unshed tears sit in your eyes and Levi is too in love with you to resist comforting you when you’re this distressed- even if you’re breaking up with him and breaking his heart.

Levi gathers you in his arms and thumbs away your falling tears. You broke up with him, and he’s comforting you- the thought makes you choke out another sob.

You both stand like that for a few minutes, your tears staining his black coat. The silence between you both is palpable and suffocating. 

The only viable option you see is letting him go. But you don’t want to, god, you don’t want to- not when this man is your other half. When he’s your best friend, your favorite person, not when he gives meaning to the word love. 

Levi finally speaks.

“I won’t tell you what to do. But just know I’ll treat you right and you’ll never feel caged with me,” Levi murmurs, tendrils of adoration tinting his words, “I love you.”

He presses a long kiss to your forehead before leaving your apartment. His kiss feels unfamiliar, and when your knees buckle and you’re on the floor, a sobbing mess, you realize why-

It tasted like goodbye.

One month. Two month. Then three.

You’ve never been the girl helplessly in love. You’ve never been the girl who wouldn’t be able to get by without the reciprocated love from your lover. You’ve never been the type to spiral recklessly. You’ve always been fine after breakups and dates that had gone sideways.

You can live without Levi, but you don’t want to.

But loving and losing Levi hurts worse than any kind of pain. You see him everywhere on campus- a tuft of silky, black hair here, a glance of a similar looking backpack there… You even think you see him at the coffee shop that you met him at. If you were stronger, you’d avoid that coffee shop altogether. But you don’t want to let go of the memory of your first time meeting him, and you don’t want to let go of the opportunity to watch you both in your mind’s eye.

Everything reminds you of him. Everything brings tears to your eyes. You’re just a stupid girl in love with a man you can’t have.

You haven’t spoken to your siblings since that day, despite their many attempts to reach out to you. Texts, claiming that they were just looking out for you and that they loved you, went unanswered by you.

You can’t bear to speak to them. You think if you’d ever muster the courage to reach out to him again… You wonder what you might do. A small part of you hates that your family still has this grip over you- that you’re in love with a man who respects and loves you and protects you, and because they don’t approve- you can’t be with him.

You hate it. You hate that you succumbed to it. You hate that you hurt him- the heartbroken kiss he had given you has been replaying in your mind every day. Every night.

It still hurts as if it’s fresh, as if three months haven’t gone by since you broke up with him. You often wonder what Levi is doing-

After all, he hadn’t put up any type of fight for you. But you don’t allow those thoughts to get very far. It’s not like you had positioned it as something to discuss. You had made the final call and pulled the trigger on your relationship. 

It was because of you. Was it worth it? To break up with him? For your family’s perceived happiness?

The questions leave a dull ache in your heart. You feel as if you’ve been spoiled with his love, and you had carelessly ripped his heart into shreds.

Today, you’re walking to one of your exams in your building and you swear you catch sight of Levi’s hair in the atrium of the building. But it’s gone as quick as it comes. And you head inside, putting thoughts of Levi behind you to focus on your exam.

Levi has been distracted for the last three months. Even if it doesn’t show- even if he’s doing spectacular in school, even if he’s on a new win streak in the boxing ring- his mind is almost always elsewhere.

His mind is always on you. What are you doing? Do you miss him? Is your relationship with your family improving? Is it worth it?

He’ll never tell you what to do, or what decisions to make. He only wants you to make a decision with no regrets, if that decision is truly what you want.

But damn, he wonders if you regret this decision. Levi has always been good at compartmentalizing- he lives by the same philosophy. Make a choice with no regrets. He’ll never regret following your lead and giving you what you want.

But what if you hadn’t wanted it? And what if… he hadn’t wanted it either?

Levi sees you more and more in the last month or so- showing up to places that you both used to frequent as a couple and places on campus. The coffee shop, some of your lecture hall buildings. He remains in the background, as a shadow. Only to catch a glimpse of you. Are you happy? 

Your eyes are sullen, your smile dimmed. But he’s sure nobody can tell. Because you’re good at that- being the perfect princess.

He feels like a ghost in his own life. Is this living?

Levi has to move on. He loves you, his love for you still burns as bright as it did months ago. But he has to move on.

Erwin tells you that there’s a boxing match tonight. It’s the finals of whatever the equivalent of playoffs in the boxing world is-

“He’d like it if you were there,” Erwin says, voice uncharacteristically soft.

“So he can tell me himself,” You say somewhat bitterly, “We’re not...together anymore.”

You choke.

“You and I both know he won’t tell you himself. Not when you broke up with him.”

“So it’s my fault then?” You exclaim. Erwin only watches you with wary, calm eyes.

“I’m only telling you what’s true. You don’t have to come, but he’d like it if you were there.”

Over the last few weeks, really since the first night without Levi, regret has been settling in your bones. Had you made the right decision? Was it worth it, to be this unhappy? Just to maintain harmony with your family? You think if you hadn’t rushed to break up with him, you could have talked about it. Levi has always been level-headed, almost too level-headed (like the way he had just accepted you breaking up with him). 

You think you could conquer anything with Levi standing next to you.

You can’t stay away. So you’re in the stands of the ring, watching Levi warily. He looks good- he’s bulked up a little. But you can see the lines of weariness beneath his eyes. 

You still ache for him. You are still his. Seeing him this close only solidifies what you already knew. 

You are undisputedly his. And he is yours.

Watching him, throw punch after punch, and sidestep jab after jab… All for his mother. To support his family. 

Tears well up in your eyes. You want to be part of his family. The epiphany hits you like a freight train- but it’s a welcome one. 

You want to love him the way you know how. You want him to love you.

You wait in the locker room for him, anticipation surging up your spine as you pace around the locker room.

Erwin looks like he’s got a stick up his ass, and Levi doesn’t hesitate to mention it. Levi rolls his eyes and walks into the men’s locker room.

But nothing prepares him for the sight he sees in front of him.

It’s you. 

It’s you, sitting on the bench, looking as pretty as ever. Gold hoops hang from your ears, a sunflower yellow blouse with the top three buttons unbuttoned and a plum colored skirt hugs your hips.

You bite your bottom lip, tearing through your skin mercilessly. Your heart slams right out of your ribcage. His eyes are narrowed at you, drinking you in. 

He’s a man dehydrated and you are his oasis.

Before you can whisper his name, he beats you to it. “Why are you here?” Levi asks sharply. His voice is flat, but you can hear the undercurrent of anger in his voice. Hurt masked by anger.

“Yeah, I missed you, too,” You mutter, standing up from the bench. You keep your distance from him, feeling the iciness in his glare. “Erwin told me you were fighting today. Somethin’ about the playoffs. Just...wanted to see you.”

He quirks a thin eyebrow at you. “Wanted to see me three months later?”

You immediately get defensive, “It’s not like you were dying to see me, either.”

A flicker of annoyance, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just let me go- you could’ve… You could’ve fought for me! You just fuckin’ let me go,” You exclaim in frustration, tears pricking your eyes.

“Don’t- you picked your family,” Levi says harshly, “When we could’ve figured it out together, you chose to be alone. Don’t put that on me.”

“I didn’t know what else to do! I thought I was doing the right thing,” You hiss, tears falling down your cheeks openly now. You’ve never been good at hiding your feelings from Levi. “You just let me go. As if the last year meant nothing to you-”

“The last year meant nothing to me?” Levi asks, his voice perfectly level. He takes a few steps closer to you and your breath hitches.

Your head is spinning. He hasn’t been this close to you in months- and yet it feels like no time has passed. 

“I love you,” Levi says quietly, “We would’ve figured it out. If the last year meant nothing to me then, this,” Levi darts out, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his bare left pec, “Wouldn’t be yours. It’s always yours, princess. But damn, baby. It hurt.”

“Levi,” Your voice is strangled, in pain, “I’m sorry, my love-”

“You made a choice,” Levi says pointedly, “Do you regret it?”

“Yes,” You breathe, “But I’m scared for us, for you-”

“We’ll figure it out,” Levi promises, cradling your face in his rough hands. He catches your stray tears with his thumb and presses his forehead to yours.

“I missed you,” You choke out with a sob, “So fuckin’ much. I’m sorry, I hurt you. I hurt us. I love you, I love you, I love you. I know we have so much to work through. But I love you, and I believe in you.”

“Let’s go home,” Levi mumbles, resisting the urge to drop kisses to your forehead, your cheek, your lips.

“Will you let me love you,” Levi rasps, cupping your cheek as he rocks into you slowly. The head of his cock brushes against your walls prettily, as if no time has passed since the last time.

He belongs here, inside of you like this. You mold to him and he molds to you.

Levi squeezes your waist, dipping his head for a harsh kiss. He kisses you as if he’s loved you for a thousand years, and he’ll love you for a thousand more.  He peppers soft kisses to your face and you moan into his touch, notes of his name escaping your lips.

“I love you,” Levi grunts as he rolls his hips into yours in movements of honey.

He’s not usually this talkative. But he knows you both need it. Levi sucks a mark, then another, over your tits and you tug your hands through his hair.

“Baby,” You whine, “Wanna give you everything...Love you, I love you, fuck, I’m sorry I hurt you-”

“You are everything,” Levi says, his nose in your neck, “Gonna give you everything, princess. Fuck-”

Levi nearly loses his rhythm at the gush of wetness that floods his cock. He groans and looks between you both, at the way his cock pushes into your wet pussy. This is where he belongs, in between your soft thighs.

You take Levi’s hand in between yours and squeeze. You think you could stay like this forever, with him moving so unhurriedly above you. His hips melting with yours, the broad expanse of his back pliant under your nails.

“Be mine again,” You beg, “Please, baby, be mine again-”

“Will you let me love you,” Levi asks again, gazing deep into your eyes.

“Yes, yes,” You moan, “Like that, baby- fuck, o-oh- Levi…” You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer to you as your tits brush against his glistening chest. You see the moon gazing at you through his irises.

You want everything, and he is everything.

You’re boneless in his arms, tucked into his side with the sheets covering your bare body. A leg is thrown over his waist and you rub mindless circles over his chest as he holds you close. Not wanting to let you go. 

Your breaths are soft against his warmed skin. Your eyes are still puffy, from crying but Levi always thinks you’re pretty. 

And having you in his arms, in his bed, after three months is an added plus.

“I meant it,” You mumble sleepily, “I love you.”

“What about your family?” Levi asks, squeezing the hand resting on his chest.

“I don’t know,” You say shakily, “I’m scared. But wanna figure it out with you. For you, it’s worth it. For you, everything is worth it.”

Levi only answers you with a soft kiss that makes your toes curl. He doesn’t know what tomorrow might bring, but he has you today. After this long, he has you for today. 

And tomorrow will come, the sun and moon will rise separately, but you’ll get through it together.

tags: @simpingmaize​ @captainchrisstan​ @bbygrgu​ @alrightberries​ 

[stressisakiller]

I'm Glad it's You

Steve Rogers x reader soulmate AU

As you wish part 3

Summary: A difficult conversation and a whole lot of fluff

Warnings: none, couple of curse words, mentions brainwashing

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I finally got to this chapter!! I am so sorry it took so long life has been hectic. Hope yall like it!

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Blinking your eyes open you are surprised to see that you are still in the living room. You can't remember falling asleep last night. Then you feel the arm that's thrown over your stomach and the breath of the super soldier sleeping beside you. Right you think, Captain America is my soulmate and we fell asleep watching the princess bride. That was a sentence you never thought possible.

You carefully shuffle around for a better angle to see the man next to you. His mouth is slightly open and he had moved from mostly sitting up to lying on his side, one arm under your head the other around your waist. His hair is adorably messy, you wouldn't have thought that his hair could be anything but perfect. It is strangely endearing to see him like this, completely relaxed and looking slightly ruffled. 

Your gaze on his face seems to rouse him from his sleep, eyes slowly blinking open and taking in the world around him. He startles awake when he realizes how close you are and the fact that his arms are wrapped around you.

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean..” He starts apologizing while trying to untangle himself from you.

You cut him off by snuggling closer to him, your voice is muffled by his chest as you speak. 

“Don’t you dare apologize, that was the best sleep I’ve had in ages, plus you’re my soulmate, I doubt cuddling on the couch all night will be the worst thing we do.” You look up to see a slight blush painting his cheeks at your words.

“I never said it was," he counters, still a little flustered, "but we only just figured this out last night and I didn’t want to assume anything.” He quickly gains his composure back, allowing himself to enjoy the feeling of you in his arms. That is until Tony walks in.. 

"Please no sex on the couch, it's a bitch to clean." He states loudly causing you to laugh at his antics. You force yourself to leave the warmth that is Steve's arms and walk over to Tony who is grabbing a cup of coffee.

“I’m still mad at you, you know, for not telling me earlier.” You state matter of factly. "All this time I thought I'd end up dying alone because of one of your experiments gone wrong, and it turns out that you knew who my soulmate is for months."

He looks at you for a moment, contemplating how to respond before softening and giving you a kiss on the forehead,

 “I’m sorry little Buttercup, I should have told you earlier and not just assumed that you already knew.” You smile at this softer side of Tony, the side that he usually only allows you to see. 

You pour yourself and Steve a cup of coffee, asking him how he likes it.

"A good amount of cream and a spoonful of sugar." He states looking a little sheepish. You smile at the fact that Captain America likes a little coffee with his creamer. 

You jump slightly when you feel his arms sliding around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. 

"Thank you, doll, that looks perfect." His voice is soft in your ear. You quickly realize Steve is an affectionate man that likes to cuddle and is quickly warming up to the fact that you enjoy it too. 

You lean back into his embrace, reveling the simple fact that you could. You found your soulmate and you were already head over heels for the man. 

Your mom always loved to cook and she taught you when you were young. So you decide to make up some pancakes and french toast for breakfast, after all, it isn't everyday that you find your other half.

Tony and Steve help set the table and everything while you cook. Steve askes if he can help but Tony knows that you enjoyed taking care of the cooking by yourself. That may partially come from the fact that, for the most part, Tony is a terrible cook and you don't want him anywhere near your food.

Once the table is set and you are well on your way to cooking breakfast, Steve and Tony sit down and start to talk. Steve, always the one to go straight to business, begins to ask about the girl he brought in the day before.

“She’s still unconscious, from the look of her she's been in some terrible fights, she has multiple gun wounds and some scars that look to be from some wicked knife wounds.” Tony answers, feeling a little bit of sympathy for the unconscious girl in the medical wing.

“Well all the same, I need to find out who so is and why she shot me.” Steve answers allowing a little bit of the exasperation he is feeling to slip into his words.

“She shot you?” Your voice is laced with worry and you walk up to him, placing the food in your hand on the table, “are you ok?” Your eyes search his body to see if you could find the wound he spoke of.

“Yes doll, she shot me. I had the bullet removed and the skin is almost completely healed." His voice is gentle, reassuring, letting you know that there is nothing for you to worry about. 

"Anyway, it was like she wasn't shooting to kill. It was like she aimed for the spot that would cause the least amount of damage." His entire face is scrunched up in confusion, before he shakes his head and continues. "But I must speak with her when she wakes. That is the only way we can find out for sure.”

“Well until then, let's eat and then maybe you can come up with me to my lab so I can make you that punching bag.” You say setting the last of the food onto the table and grabbing some orange juice.

“You weren’t kidding about that?” Steve's voice is incredulous, he really didn't think that you would actually make a punching bag for him.

“Of course I was serious, I never kid.” You can’t help the smile that slips through the serious look you are putting on.

The next two days pass with you and Seve spending as much time together as possible. You are quickly able to develop a punching bag for him and even develop a couple of smaller items to help make missions easier as well. You are surprised how happy it makes you to have Steve in the lab with you. You share stories of your childhood and are surprised by the similarities, especially when it comes to your health. He tells you about Brooklyn, and his friend Bucky. About trying to get drafted and the events that lead to him becoming Captain American. You enjoy how willing he is to share his life with you and how easy it is for you to return the favor. You are in the middle of telling him the story of how you met Tony when Jarvis comes over the speaker.

“Mr. Rogers, the woman you brought in has awoken.”

 

You look at each other before rushing down the halfway to the medical wing. Steve steps in first and you quietly follow him, not wanting to get in the way. 

“Oh good you’re awake,” Steve’s voice is harder than you had ever heard before, and you watch as the girl tenses up even more. 

“Now I get to ask you all of the questions that I’ve been waiting to ask you for the past 3 days.” You watch him pull a chair up and sit, his pose meant to intimidate. 

“Who are you? Why did you shoot me? What were you doing in that town and where did you get these?” You flinch slightly at the anger in his voice, glad that it isn’t currently directed at you. 

Steve is holding up a pair of dog tags, and you wonder what they have to do with anything. The girl seems to be reeling from the questions trying to decide how to answer. You are curious as to what she will have to say. Her voice is desperate when she finally speaks.

“My name is Alison, my father is Hydra and forced me to become one of their experiments, a soldier for them. I was planning on escaping but I never could, I couldn’t leave him there.” Leave him? Leave who you wonder, her voice grows more desperate when she speaks of him, he must be important to her. You focus back in on what she is saying. 

“I couldn’t leave him, not when I could do something to save him. I couldn’t leave him there all alone.” You can tell that she is close to tears as she speaks and that there is no lie in her words.

Steve balks, “Wait a minute, you’re Hydra.” He spits the words out at her causing you to look at him in confusion. 

“Not by choice.” Her voice is steel. She holds no love for her father or this Hydra organization.

Steve finally asks the question that is bugging you. “Alright then, who is this “he” you keep mentioning?” He leans back crossing his arms, waiting for her answer.

She stares at him for a moment, as if deciding whether she can trust him or not. She seems to come to a conclusion. Taking a deep breath she answers, 

“My soulmate, the soldier, the man on the dog tags, James Buchanan Barnes.” You can't help but gasp, James was Steve’s best friend, he had told you all about him the last couple of days. Your gaze immediately turns to Steve to see his reaction, his whole body has gone stiff, his eyes narrowed, teeth clenched.

“You’re lying. I watched him fall from the train, I watched him die! There is no way in hell he is your soulmate.” His anger is rolling off of him in waves.

 You however remain strangely calm after the initial shock of her words. What she said makes sense, after all a 95 year old super soldier who was assumed dead for 70 years is your soulmate. Who's to say that James didn’t survive the fall?

 You step up to Steve and softly place your hand on his shoulder.

The girl is still frantically trying to convince him, “I’m not lying! I swear! Hydra got to him. They made him into a weapon, they brainwashed him and put him on ice when they didn’t need him so that they could control him better. I swear, I’m not lying!" Her voice is practically hysterical at the end.

 Leaning in to Steve you murmur to him, 

“Steve, you survived an airplane crash and being frozen in a glacier for decades. Maybe she is telling the truth.” Your voice is soft, placating. 

He turns to you, the hardness of his face softening at the sincerity he can see in your eyes. 

“Fine,” he says turning back to the girl, Alison, “I can’t fully trust you and I can’t let you go, so you will have to live here in the tower, under surveillance. If you want us to trust you, you will have to prove yourself trustworthy.” Steve stands after this declaration, unlocking the cuffs on her wrists. You turn to her, 

“I’ll make sure that they have a room ready for you as soon as you are well enough to leave the hospital.” You give her a soft smile, heaven knows she needs it. You pause a second, alone in the room with her, Steve had walked swiftly out the door as soon as he had undone the cuffs. 

“I just have one last question,” she nods at you when you pause, “I know you shot Steve. But you missed anything important on purpose, didn’t you?"

She just gives you a secret smile and lays back against the pillow, but it is all you need to know the type of woman she is. You can tell already that you like this girl, and that it won’t take you long to trust her. Giving her one last look you step out the door, calling for Jarvis to make sure a room is ready for the new guest. You have a Steve to find. 

 

He is exactly where you expect him to be, punching the shit out of the punching bag you made him. 

“Hey Soldier.” You call to him, as you lean against the doorway. You watch as his body slouches at the sound of your voice, today was a lot.

“She said that Bucky is her soulmate,” his eyes are red as they catch yours, “what if he is alive and I could have saved him. All this time I thought that I watched him die and now there is this chance that he is alive. What if I abandoned him?” 

His voice breaks at the question, he looks so vulnerable. You step quickly towards him, keeping your movements light. When you reach him you take the hand that is hanging limply by his side and place it on your cheek.

“Hey, love, look at me.” His eyes slide up from the floor. “There was no way you could have known and nothing you could have done to help. If he is alive, I will be right there with you and we will do whatever it takes to get him back. He is your family, and that makes him mine, and we don’t leave family behind.” His eyes are full of tears as he leans his head against yours. 

The toll of the day, makes itself apparent in the slouch of his shoulders and the weight of his forehead. You slowly pull yourself out of the embrace, grasping his hand and pulling him with you.

“Come on, we both need sleep and there is no way in hell I’m letting you sleep by yourself after the day we just had.” He nods and follows your gentle pull to your room in the tower. 

Since you have lived here the longest you have one of the nicest rooms, save Tony of course. Entering the room you have Steve sit on the edge of the bed while you start up the shower for him. You place out a couple of towels out on the vanity and step back into your room. 

Steve hasn’t moved since you walked into the bathroom. You step up to him and gently place your hand on his cheek.

“Love, I have the shower running for you, everything is set out and I placed a clean pair of sweatpants and a shirt in there for you, they should fit. Go ahead and get cleaned up and then you can come lay down.”

He stares at you listlessly for a moment before nodding and moving to do exactly as you suggested. As he showers you change into your pjs, you would take your shower in the morning. You grab the book on your bedside table and allow yourself to get lost in the words for a moment. The sound of the shower turning off brings you back to reality, as Steve steps out of the bathroom in just the sweatpants. 

Your first thought is holy shit followed quickly by the thought that whoever decided that you would be the perfect soulmate for this specimen might have been mistaken . 

Steve is having a similar train of thought, looking at you in your too large shirt and messy bun, knowing that behind your beauty is a heart of gold. He can't believe his luck.

He walks to the other side of the bed, drying off his hair and throwing the towel in the hamper. Pausing for a moment at the empty side of the bed, searching your face for any trace of doubt. Instead all he sees is you smiling at him and gesturing for him to take his place beside you.

 Settling into the bed he is surprised when you lean over and place your head in his lap.

“I’m glad it’s you.” He smiles at the soft admission, thankful that he finally found you after all these years.

“I’m glad it’s you too, doll. For the longest time I thought I would never find you, I thought you may not even exist. But I did and you are even more amazing than I could have ever hoped for." He pauses for a moment deciding whether to say what's on his mind or not. He is hesitant as he starts to speak. 

"Thank you for today, for calming me when I needed it and for being there for me. Not many people have seen me cry, but I’m glad that you have and that you aren’t disappointed in me for not staying strong.” At his words you immediately sit up and stare him straight in the eyes.

“You listen here, Steve Rogers." You poke him in the chest as you speak. " I never want you to feel like you have to keep up appearances when you are around me. You may need to be strong for others but not for me. I am here for you, no matter what, and that especially includes the moments where you can no longer be strong. You better remember that, I will never judge you for the way you feel.” Taking in your intense stare, Steve feels warmth spreading through his body. Yes , he thinks, he is very glad that it's you. 

Smiling at you and nodding Steve grasps your arms and pulls you into his chest, savoring the feeling of your head resting over his heart. He can’t remember the last time he felt as content as he does in this moment. The world may feel like it's moments away from crashing down around him, but right now all he can think about is you. 

Tagged users: @writerwrites

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Twenty

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome to the end of our tale, everyone! Thank you so much for reading and enjoying over the years. I love you so much and appreciate you more than words can say. Here's to 2021, my friends! Ad Victoriam, and stay safe! Tagging @anonymouscosmos​, @culturalrebel, @wrestlingfae​, @toxiicpop​,  @mercy-and-malice, @deepkittycollecto, @nelba, @mechanicalism, @commandershepardshtole, @valkyriejack and @kovu-the-mythical-being. Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

Part Fourteen: Dichotomy

Part Fifteen: The Litany Trial

Part Sixteen: Nice Try

Part Seventeen: Preparations

Part Eighteen: Divide And Conquer

Part Nineteen: Lucky

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains holiday celebrations, brief emotional distress and unprotected sex. Stay safe!]

Time seemed to pass both too fast and not fast enough. 

  Synths were accommodated, reprogrammed at their wishes or helped to adjust to their new lives. Doctor Amari and the rest of the Railroad had no shortage of work, and Desdemona eventually tapped MacCready and Cait to oversee their caravan logistics back to the Capital Wasteland. 

  "And the people of the Commonwealth slept soundly, for the greatest monster was gone." Nick had remarked, touching the brim of his fedora in a half-salute. The old detective quickly appointed himself as head of first impressions in Diamond City, making certain that no trouble befell any wayward synth that accidentally wandered in. There was still a lot of work to be done to repair the Broken Mask incident, after all.

  New settlements sprang up overnight and while there may not have been total harmony, there was the sensation of the whole Commonwealth heaving a sigh of relief. Recruits flocked to the Minutemen and Brotherhood in droves as Piper's Publick Occurrences spread the word of their successful campaign against the Institute. 

  Commonwealth boogeyman decimated by combination effort: Brotherhood Of Steel and Minutemen join forces to save Boston from bodysnatchers!

  Deacon had effortlessly deflected Piper every time she asked for an interview, the mysterious man more than content to keep the Railroad shadowy. The less everyone knew, the less they could tell, and that suited him just fine. "You did real good, Icebox. Helped a lot of people."

  Elder Brandis sought approval to establish a permanent outpost at the Boston airport ruins, the former paladin keen to send the Prydwen back to the Capital Wasteland. "Oh the Prydwen's a fine ship, but put me in the field any day!" The airship, once a proud symbol of the Maxson reign, now served little purpose aside from blocking the sun on occasion. Scribes laughed and played in the massive shadow, kicking up dust until the circle where the litany trial had taken place was nothing but a memory.

  X6-88 had floundered for several weeks, the courser falling into a depressive slump that not even Curie could rouse him from. Oddly enough, it was Preston who ended up being able to haul him out of the darkness, the lieutenant making a point to visit the courser to drag him from his room for target practice and other low-effort patrol duties. "Sometimes all folks need is a hand, General." 

  The courser went on to reluctantly take the role of defective defector, working as a consultant to the Minutemen to help ward off any future attacks by desperate coursers or Institute scientists. Preston found his input invaluable, and the duo could often be found in the lieutenant's quarters poring over threadbare maps and trading tactical information. Preston also seemed to have a calming effect on the synth hunter, helping to blunt some of the cold steel edge that X6 had honed his entire life. Add on to that the constant caring presence of Curie, and they made a strange but surprisingly effective trio. 

  With the new supply line firmly established between the verdant utopia of Starlight Drive-In and Oberland Station, the strain of the prior lean months finally eased a bit. Faces grew less pinched even with the increased burden of the synths, and many settlers began to tentatively plan for a small celebration in the beginning of the winter. 

  "'The Holidays' is what they been callin' it, real simple and succinct. Some freaky hodgepodge of everyone's traditions. I guess a lot of folks on that fancy director's board also celebrated around this time of year. Not that the synths would know, naturally." Hancock had muttered, his expression sour. "Poor bastards always workin', and they ain't got fuckall to show for it. Seems like a shit deal."

  Elder Brandis granted Danse an extended leave of absence after the toppling of the Institute without the paladin even requesting it, the large man dumbfounded for a moment upon receiving the news.

  "If you're up for it, I could use a hand back at Sanctuary." Vega had grinned up at him, her eyes squinting a little under the force of her smile. "A lot of prep work goes into a holiday, after all."

  ...

  Danse had taken it upon himself to retreat from Shaun's previous bedroom when he accompanied Vega and her son back to Sanctuary. He debated heavily on returning to the airport; after all, there was no real reason for him to stay in Sanctuary Hills, at least none that he dared to dwell upon. The few small projects that Vega had to manage were easily accomplished and he was left a bit lost in the wake of the excess of his leave.

  Vega, however, had begun framing in what was once the carpark for her house. Sturges helped of course, and once Danse caught on he was touched by the gesture. 

  "I don't want you to feel like there isn't room for you just because Shaun is back." Elizabeth had said, lugging a chunk of scrap metal from the wreckage of her car. 

  The paladin had to take a moment, claiming sawdust in his eye as the culprit.

  Now Danse lived in the area she had partitioned off for him, uncertain if he still believed he was intruding. Those thoughts were troubling, because if he could get comfortable…

  What if Vega eventually decided that Shaun needed a father and what if...what if she chose a real man? Really real, not a sham like Danse was. And if she did, what man would permit Danse to stay? What real man would permit a synth that was currently entangled by these...human emotions to remain on their property, even if Danse proved he wasn't a threat?

  What man would believe him if he claimed to have no interest in Vega? Hell, Danse didn't even believe himself. 

  But he didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay. He wanted to tell Elizabeth...well, there were a lot of things he wanted to tell her.

  His silence was more of a burden each day, and Danse knew he must seem sullen. It gnawed at him; it felt like lying every time he choked the words back down because it wasn't the right time or he just didn't know what to say, and he didn't trust himself not to say something foolish.

  He decided he would wait until after the holiday gathering. Whatever the verdict was, it shouldn't take away from the joy she was clearly feeling over the festivities. So Danse threw himself into helping Sturges, Mama Murphy and the Longs around Sanctuary.

  Secretly making a toy truck for Shaun had been a painstaking process fraught with peril. Mainly because Danse was somewhat indelicate and carving tiny wheels had never been his area of expertise. Oh certainly, he could build a survival camp with nothing but a combat knife and time, but a toy...

  The paladin had spent countless hours creating prototypes in his cobbled-together room as he pondered the path he should take, sometimes working into the wan light of the morning. He eventually showed the truck to Jun, immensely fearful that Shaun might not enjoy the toy. Danse couldn't recall his own interests when he had been Shaun's age, and thus fell back on the other man's expertise. 

  "It looks good! Sand the wheels a little more, maybe give it a coat or two of paint." Jun praised the pensive paladin, turning the vehicle over in his hands to examine it. "Kyle loved these kinds of things y'know, trucks and trains and little toy boats." His gaze grew distant for a moment, the rough plaything stilling in his grasp. "Marcy thinks she's pregnant." He said abruptly.

  "Pregnant?" Danse repeated without meaning to, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

  Jun nodded jerkily. "It's been three months now. She's scared, Mr. Danse, real scared. Thinks something bad will happen."

  "What can we do?" The paladin asked sharply. 

  Jun gawked up at him, seeming confused. "We?"

  "I am unfamiliar with this process. What needs to be done?"

  "I...I don't follow, Mr. Danse."

  "To simplify the duration! What precautions can I-"

  "Whoa, hang on." Jun protested. "We aren't sure if the general will even let us stay here with an extra mouth to feed. I've been trying to figure out how to bring up the subject." He admitted. 

  "You haven't even told General Vega yet?!" Danse squawked. 

  "W-Well, no! I figured maybe we would...we'd see how the winter went and play it by ear." Jun mumbled, seeming defensive. 

  Danse seized the other man's arm, heedless of his protests as he hauled him across the front lawn to Vega's abode. Today was the day that Vega had planned to sort through decorations; there were many left over from the fall holiday the Commonwealth had been preparing to celebrate before...well, time had stopped for most when the bombs fell, it was understandable that faded pumpkins and skeletons would still grace crumbling walls with their orangey-cream presence.

  Vega looked up from the veritable pile of brittle, salvaged decor in confusion when Danse barged into their...her home, the paladin immediately halting and offering a sharp salute. "Danse! I...uh, what's wrong?"

  "Mr. Long has something he needs to discuss with you immediately." Danse informed her, tugging the other man forward. 

  "I-I...er, General, you…" Jun struggled to speak, twiddling his fingers wildly. "M-Marcy--"

  "What's wrong, Jun? Is she okay?" Vega asked, getting to her feet and shooting Danse a worried look. "Did something happen?"

  "B-Baby." Jun squeaked. "Pregnant."Backhand went still, her freckles stark against the fresh pallor of her face. "I'm sorry, General, I know we haven't discussed it beforehand a-and I know food's been better as of late...I-I guess she got enough nutrients and got healthy enough for...er, well, you know." Mr. Long looked like he wanted to disappear into the ground. "We should have spoke to you sooner; I don't know if she can leave with the weather being--"

  "Wh-Where are you going? Why leave, what?" Vega stammered, "Jun, you can't travel now, if something goes wrong-!"

  "We weren't sure if you'd let us stay!" The thin man interrupted her frantically. "This is your base, after all, and you didn't sign on for an extra person to worry about."

  Vega inhaled deeply. "Danse, could you give me a minute with Mr. Long?" She requested, her voice suspiciously even.

  Danse obeyed, closing the front door gently and meandering a pointed distance down the main thoroughfare so as not to eavesdrop. He had a relatively good idea of how the conversation would go, despite Jun's misgivings. So he wandered down to the huge tree at the end of the cul-de-sac, fiddling with the truck in his pocket absently as he stared upwards at the barren branches. 

  "Y'know kid," Mama Murphy piped up from her customary chair on her porch and the paladin turned to face her, giving the elderly woman his full attention. "When I had the Sight, I saw this place. Sanctuary." She nodded in the direction of the river, then gestured upwards. "The bridge, and this tree. Massive and old, worn out from all those years." She cocked her head, giving Danse an appraising look. "The tree though, it was...covered in lights. Like what you see in the pre-war mags. The Holidays, shinin' like a beacon of hope at the end of the tunnel." 

  Danse hummed, the vaguest beginnings of an idea taking root in his mind. He couldn't bring Vega's old life back, but maybe...maybe he could bring something from it back to her. Like what you see in the pre-war mags.

  "I think you're pickin' up what I'm puttin' down, kid." Mama Murphy's smile was knowing, the old woman reaching over to pet Dogmeat. The dog seemed to materialize out of thin air sometimes! "Now get to it."

  ...

  Backhand was already scurrying around the kitchen when Danse rose on the morning of the Holiday celebration, the paladin pausing only momentarily to yawn in the doorway before sleepily offering his assistance. "Is there something I can help with, Vega?"

  "Uh, Sturges, he said something about you and stuff from Goodneighbor, I think?" Elizabeth replied, obviously preoccupied with whatever she had in the semi-functional oven. Danse nodded, trudging across the kitchen to tug on his boots by the door. 

  Shaun bounded out of the bathroom, his face still damp from his morning wash. "Oh, can I help too? Please Mom, let me help Mister Danse and Mister Sturges!" He begged.

  "You'd better stay right where Danse and Sturges can see you." Backhand instructed him sternly, one oven-mitted hand gesturing to indicate the gravity of the situation. "Otherwise you're coming straight back inside. Go put on your warm coat."

  Shaun cheered in delight, racing back to his room.

  "It's okay that he's with you two, right? I know he's not your responsibility." Backhand continued in an undertone to the paladin.

  Danse's throat tightened and it took him a moment to respond, "I don't mind at all. He's a very well-behaved child." 

  "Let me know if he's an issue and I'll bring him back inside. I just need to get this done and the oven is being all-" 

  Danse stood up and placed his hands on her shoulders, deliberately schooling his expression into something more stern. "General, you're doing a fine job. Stop worrying."

  "Am I? Shit, I really hope so." Elizabeth mumbled, tipping her forehead until it rested against his chest. Danse prayed she couldn't hear his heart, hammering merely from her proximity. God, his body was nothing but an embarrassment waiting to happen. "I've never really done this crap. Not sure if I'm cut out for it."

  The momentary respite was broken when Shaun reappeared in his oversized flannel and oilcloth jacket, the child bolting past the two adults to put on his boots. Danse reluctantly released Backhand, noting how flushed her face was but not really daring to dwell on it. "I'll...I'll watch him." The paladin said, his voice a bit stilted. "I promise."

  "Thank you." Backhand mumbled, wiping her eyes and then returning to coddle…whatever it was in the oven.

  "Ready, Shaun?" Danse asked the boy, who nodded rapidly and extended a hand. 

  The snow outside was still fresh from the night before and Danse took a moment to appreciate the view of the Commonwealth covered in a thin layer of white. Off in the distance, the towering crimson insignia of the Red Rocket gasoline station stood stark against the backdrop of the gray sky. Even further down the road slumbered the empty shell of Concord, the tallest of the town's dilapidated buildings only just visible from the paladin's position. 

  Shaun tugged at his hand, pulling his attention back to the present. "Mister Danse, Mister Sturges is waiting for us!" The child announced, waving up at the engineer who was currently settled into a crook of the brittle branches that graced the tree on the cul-de-sac island. "Hi Mister Sturges!"

  "Howdy fellas! Come to give me a helpin' hand?" Sturges called, grinning down at the two of them. 

  "What assistance can we offer?" Danse queried, wary that the other man might suggest Shaun climb up to him. His fears were quickly allayed when Sturges instead asked Shaun and Danse to begin untangling the long strands of old lights. 

  Hancock and his ilk had arrived from Goodneighbor, bearing the gifts of dubious treats and many, many mangled strings of lights. Goodneighbor had always been drenched in neon, after all, so Danse had assumed the ghoul mayor would be the best person to call upon for aid. It would appear that Hancock had delivered in spectacular fashion.

  "With your help, we'll have this place lookin' pretty as a picture in no time!"

  …

  Maybe she had bitten off slightly more than she could chew, trying to cook a traditional dinner. Backhand sighed, glumly poking at the cold poultry with a wooden spoon. Her cooking skills had never been much to write home about in the first place, and this only served to solidify that fact. 

  "Oh Mum, I'm so sorry. The old oven just isn't how it used to be." Codsworth commented, his mechanical voice tinged with melancholy. 

  "It's not a big deal, Codsworth. I hate to waste the food, that's all." Backhand muttered, assuring herself that she wasn't fighting back frustrated tears, her eyes were just tired. "Damn thing didn't even get to the warm phase."

  "Mum, if I might suggest…?" The robot started hesitantly, carrying on when she nodded. "Perhaps it can be salvaged. After all, we make bread in that same pan by tucking it beneath the hot coals out front. What do you say, shall we give it a go?"

  "Got nothing to lose, right?" 

  "It will be just fine, Mum! You're an adaptive sort." Codsworth remarked, drifting out the front door to stoke the usual cooking fire to life once more. "Indeed, just fine!" He called. 

  Vega shook her head ruefully. "Oh I'm sure." The woman grumbled. "Can't cook and comes with baggage. What a catch ol' Vega is." At least the bread had come out well, in spite of the brisk weather. She could thank whoever for that small favor.

  Once Codsworth had coaxed the embers to life in the fire pit, Elizabeth bundled up and brought the still-cold cast-iron pot outside. Maybe it had been wishful thinking to believe that the oven portion of her stove would still work. Or even heat at all. It had been promising earlier in the week, but this might be a blessing in disguise. If the whole house had gone up due to a cooking malfunction...well, the holidays wouldn't be too happy then, would they?

  "Please cook." She begged under her breath, troweling hot coals onto the battered dutch oven lid. "I need this, y'know? Just a little victory, that's all I'm asking for here." 

  "Shall I get started on the tatoes, Miss Vega?" 

  Elizabeth nodded, only half-listening to Codsworth. She knew she would have a good forty five minutes to an hour to wait, and it wasn't as if it was colder outside than it was inside. The joys of semi-functional heating! 

  Vega shook her head at herself after a second, since when did she dwell on everything that Sanctuary wasn't? At the end of the day, it was her home. She wouldn't trade it for the world, and she knew she had much more than most people.

  At that thought, her gaze wandered to where Danse and Shaun were. The larger man had Shaun on his shoulders while he patiently unwound a massive bundle of flickering string lights. Shaun, for his part, was passing the untangled lights up to Sturges. The engineer slid down the ladder so he could reach the child, looping the lights over his arm before climbing back up and painstakingly placing them in the gnarled grasp of the tree's limbs.

  The manufactured cheer that the lights had given off pre-war was still somewhat there, though the radiant colors were washed out to pastel and the warm whites had gone dingy gray. Instead of it being a melancholy reminder that her life had changed irreparably, Backhand was overcome with gratitude. For her son's safe return, regardless of his synthetic makeup, and for the man who was currently carrying Shaun on his shoulders. For her home, for her family.

  A family. 

  Perhaps she was getting a little ahead of herself. After all, Danse was still adjusting to life in ordinary time. It would be selfish of her to voice her feelings to him while he was coming to terms with everything that had happened. For better or for worse, their lives were different now. 

  It ought to be enough that he was in her life at all. She should be content. His presence alone was a miracle; for all intents and purposes he should be dead. Yet there he was, mere feet away, helping to brighten up the holiday celebration.

  Tonight there would be a multitude of visitors. God only knew how many would arrive from settlements near and far, to say nothing of Goodneighbor, Diamond City, the Prydwen and the Castle! It would be an incredibly busy evening for certain. Hancock had arrived early with a posse of ragtag drifters from Goodneighbor, all of them offering gifts of food or scavenged ornaments to decorate. Hence the massive mound of lights that was currently being diligently sorted through.

  The aforementioned ghoul appeared to have delegated the task of quality checking the lights, as his form currently leaned against the faded blue siding of her house. With cigarette smoke wafting from his mouth and nasal cavity in equal amounts, he seemed content to just watch the chaos unfold. 

  "Aren't you a little chilly?" Backhand queried, raising an eyebrow. The mayor was still clad in his usual garb of...for lack of a better term, repurposed period dress. Granted it wasn't seasonably cold out, at least not like how she remembered it being before the bombs dropped.

  "Nah, we ghouls run pretty warm. Ham's like a portable space heater." Hancock answered, giving her a lazy grin. "Cute of you to worry, though. I must be growin' on ya'."

  "Whoa there, let's not get too crazy."

  "Whatcha' think, General?" Sturges shouted from his perch, waving to get her attention.

  Danse turned in place, appearing to realize that she was watching as his hands flew up and grabbed Shaun's legs, stabilizing the small boy on his shoulders. 

  Backhand couldn't keep from smiling when she called back, "it looks wonderful! Keep up the great work!"

  "That ain't the only thing that looks wonderful, right Sunshine?" Hancock snickered, rolling his eyes at the now-sputtering woman. "You better give the Brave Little Toaster the ride of his life, that's all I gotta' say."

  "Hancock!" Vega hissed, making a half-hearted swipe at the mayor. "You fuckin'--"

  "Ah ah, little pitchers!" Hancock scolded, tilting his head to the side to draw Vega's attention to the rapidly-approaching form of Duncan, MacCready's son. "Gotta' watch that mouth of yours, Sunshine."

  "This ain't over, ya' raisin-lookin' bastard." Backhand snarled under her breath, pasting on a friendly smile for Duncan while Hancock wheezed with laughter. "Hey bud, how's things?" She greeted the child, who grimaced. 

  "Dad's kissin' Miss Cait again. S'gross." The little boy announced, wrinkling his nose in disgust. 

  "That does sound pretty gross." Hancock piped up before Backhand could reply. "But you like seein' your old man happy, right? The lady makes him happy. Simple as that."

  "Yeah, I guess. Can I play with Shaun?" Duncan asked Vega, eyes wide as he seemed to take in the tree covered with lights. 

  "Go ahead, kiddo! Just be careful and stay away from Sturges' ladder." Elizabeth warned, grinning when the little boy took off with a whoop. 

  Cait and MacCready strode up after a moment, both of them red-faced. MacCready bent double, his hands on his knees. "I'm not built for these bullsh--awful conditions." He panted. "I don't know how the kid does it. He was nearly dead a few months ago and now he's out here kicking the snow in the a--er, butt."

  Backhand glanced around, and then snorted. "You call this snow? It's a dusting. Back before-"

  "Ah ah, easy now Mumsicle, we ain't got time for yer trip down memory lane." Cait teased. "Work to be done, aye? C'mon then, General, shape up. What you doin' on the ground anyway, all crouched like a mother hen broodin'?"

  "I'm cooking." Vega replied tersely. 

  "Oh aye? Looks like yer shirkin' t' me, love. Codsy can manage that mess, c'mon." Cait seized her elbow, levering her up out of the snowy grass. "Now, what needs doin'?"

  ...

  The day was a whirlwind of arrivals, preparations and well wishers. Elder Brandis even stopped by briefly, taking precious time away from his all-consuming duties to distribute some useful supplies and catch up on the gossip. 

  The Diamond City trio graced Sanctuary with their presence shortly before noon, Nat scurrying off to play with Duncan and Shaun while Piper made a beeline for Hancock's merry band. Nick was more keen to meander around the outskirts of the groups forming, amber eyes taking in his surroundings.

  Preston appeared midafternoon with X6, Curie and the entire O'Brian clan in tow, later than expected but apparently they had stopped to help out a settlement along the way. 

  The cul-de-sac soon rang with the laughter of the rambunctious children; even little Siusan was permitted to briefly toddle about in the trampled snow under the watchful gaze of Eamon. The weather was chilly but the sun had broken through the clouds throughout the day, sending momentary waves of brilliance across the Commonwealth. 

  Every table and chair that could be salvaged had been assembled on the old foundation at the end of the cul-de-sac, and it was there that the adults began to gather as the sun set. Metal drums loaded with wood were lit, providing heat and illumination to the many guests of the Commonwealth's first official potluck dinner. 

  "Or rather," Piper amended, clearing her throat with a touch of self-importance as she tapped her notepad, "the first documented official potluck dinner."

  The large tree twinkled and shone in the fast-approaching darkness, the occasional flicker or broken bulb doing little to diminish the cheer it provided. The food was distributed, Backhand's roast chicken disappearing without a hitch. The young woman couldn't help doing a mental dance of victory, delighted that Codsworth's quick thinking had saved that particular endeavor.

  Vega found a place to sit somewhere in the middle of one of the many long tables, red from the praise of her companions and the persistent chill in the air. She got even redder when Preston loudly proclaimed a toast, to the General!, her lieutenant tipping his bottle and everyone else following suit. 

  "I remember when I first met the general, she was half-dead on her feet." Preston began the story, his smile fond. "Sturges couldn't even believe our luck. Hell, none of us could. When freedom called, our general answered!"

  Backhand, who had lived the story and knew all the ins and outs, found her attention wandering to Danse while Preston regaled the crowd with his tale. The paladin seemed to be listening closely, his meal forgotten. Deacon even began to thieve bits of chicken and tato out from beneath his nose, the Railroad agent shooting Vega a sly wink over his sunglasses. 

  Backhand shook her head at the other man's antics, then focused her attention on Preston. "...'Lurk queen, a huge, mean seabug, taken out by landmines! The Castle was ours once again, and we all had General Vega to thank for it." The lieutenant stated firmly. "The one who can get things done in the Commonwealth, the one who gave folks hope when it was in mighty short supply. We uh, we owe you a lot, ma'am." He raised his bottle once more. "To General Vega, leader of the Minutemen!"

  "To Elizabeth!" Hancock yelled, echoed by half the damn populace as Vega tried to wave it off, the young woman laughing awkwardly. "To our Sunshine, the hero of the Commonwealth!" 

  "Synth savior, a regular knight in shining armor." Deacon teased.

  "Well done, General Vega." Danse said warmly, "I can't know for certain whether the Brotherhood itself would be proud, but I certainly am." His praise for whatever reason made Vega's blush feel like it would scorch her skin. 

  Oh she knew damn well why, she was just being willfully oblivious at this point.

  "Speech! Speech! Is that not zee norm for zis sort of occasion?" Curie called, the diminutive synth currently sharing X6-88's coat as well as his plate of food. X6 didn't seem to have any reservations about the matter, his arm slung around her shoulders without a care in the world.

  Much to Vega's chagrin, the majority appeared to be in favor of such a vocal endeavor. She attempted to laugh off the suggestion to no avail, and finally got to her feet. "Alright, alright, settle down. I'll say a few words if it'll get you all off my damn back." She grumbled, her body thoroughly warm now with a combination of embarrassment and gratitude. "I uh…" 

  Vega trailed off as she looked out over the ragtag gang of expectant faces staring back at her. So many friends and neighbors, finally getting the chance to breathe. The chance to celebrate the fruits of their labor...it was sobering.

  "I can't thank you all enough for...well, for everything that you've done. You all sacrificed so much for this peace, stuff I could never imagine doing even before the bombs dropped." She cleared her throat. "My mentor, Sergeant Shaun Cathan, was a great man, and he often had some very succinct or choice words which I'm not about to repeat in polite company."

  "Aw c'mon-!" Zeke began to protest loudly, his voice fading as he noticed the small gaggle of children still gawking at his power armor.

  Backhand continued, her jaw set firmly, "but one thing I can say that he told me is this: a leader who permits their pride to impede their decisions is doomed to failure. Pride built the Institute, and that same pride rotted it to the core. Pride built the Brotherhood of Steel, the Minutemen, and we've seen the both of them nearly toppled." Vega clenched her fist. "Pride brought nuclear fire down on Boston, but people hauled themselves outta' the ashes of that fire. Good people, tough people. Folks I knew. Folks I cared for, even if some of 'em did spend a little too much time on the Cape. If pride can do so much effin' harm, I expect simple compassion and decency to do just as much good. Hell, more than that. Humanity's built itself back up after the cluster that was armageddon, and we ain't through yet." 

  She tipped the jar she had been drinking out of towards the crowd, sternly studying the collection of scavengers, families both new and familiar.

  ...

  "So here's to you, my friends. To all that you've done, and to all that you will do." 

  Vega's salute was rigid, pre-war. Like her helmet on the table beside her, scraped and covered in faded sigils. The mixture of candlelight and the lights on the tree reflected off the worn lenses of her glasses, shielding her eyes from view. Danse wished desperately that he could see her eyes; more than anything he wished to stand up and flat-out state what she had done for him to every soul there, display his...admiration. 

  Was that even the right word? Admiration, adoration, affection--

  His face was strangely warm all of a sudden. Danse flinched, staring down at his mug of coffee with single-minded intent as the buzz of conversation around him picked back up. His mind raced, pieces falling into place in a nigh-unstoppable rush.

  Affection. Like...what he had felt for Cutler? Almost. A little to the left of that. Brighter. 

  Happier. 

  Not perfect, nothing could ever be perfect. But...

  "Elizabeth Vega?" A male ghoul's voice barely penetrated the paladin's consciousness, his words not really registering until, "Beth, it really is you!" The ghoul exclaimed. "I thought I was crazy! It's me, Beth. It's Nate."

  "...Nate?" 

  Danse's head whipped up so fast his neck popped in warning, the paladin having been only tangentially aware of the conversation happening mere feet away from his position. But at that particular nickname his entire being snapped to attention, eyes darting sidelong from where he had been intently studying his mug of coffee. 

  The ghoul man that Vega was currently speaking to was an inch or two taller than her, with a single tuft of dark hair that still remained over his left ear. He appeared absolutely delighted, but Vega seemed...wary.

  "Beth," Danse heard him say once more, and he watched Backhand visibly tense. "I never thought I would see you again! After the bombs dropped--I mean how the hell did...is that Shaun? God, he got so big!"

  "Nate, is there something I can do for you?"

  Nate. 

  Danse's breath caught in his throat and his mouth went dry. Nate? Nate her ex-husband from before the war? Nate, the man who had divorced her once he found out she was pregnant with his child? 

  Somehow he had managed to survive? 

  Oh, what an incredibly bitter thing to think! Danse was somewhat startled by his own dark path of reasoning. But it wasn't untrue; his mind railed at the unfairness of it all. 

  The paladin stood up, his mug of coffee forgotten. He wasn't exactly certain what he was about to do, but he also wasn't going to do nothing. He cast around wildly for a plan as he approached Elizabeth from behind around the table, and Danse latched onto what was probably the least intelligent course of action that he could have conjured up.

  "Elizabeth," the paladin called, loud enough to be heard over the general hubbub. She turned and Danse briefly spied a look of intense relief on her face before he enveloped her in his arms. "You appeared cold, figured I could warm you up a bit." He reasoned aloud, smiling benignly over her head at Nate. "Who's this?"

  Vega began to introduce him even with her face still comically buried in Danse's chest, "Nate, I'd like you to meet-"

  "Paladin Logan Danse, Northeastern chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel." Danse interrupted her smoothly, extending a hand to Nate. "I've heard a great deal about you, Nate. It's a privilege to meet you, and a welcome surprise to see that you endured the radiation."

  "Uh, is it? Well I-I guess it is." Nate looked flummoxed and crestfallen all at once, glumly shaking Danse's hand. "I suppose you two are, er..."

  "Vega is my partner, yes. For over a year now." Danse replied once the other man had trailed off, his tone saccharine-sweet. He heard Vega gasp against his chest. "She is a truly incredible woman. I'm immensely lucky."

  "Yeah, I...yeah. Uh, I have to go...talk to--I'll see you later, Beth." Nate squeaked, sidestepping away from the two of them and making a beeline for the road.

  "I can't even believe it." Backhand's voice grated with tangible irritation. "I cannot even fuckin' fathom--I...dammit, why him?!" She seethed into Danse's jacket, clenching her fists on his hips. "Phew, boy, I sort of thought I'd already dealt with all that resentment." The woman admitted unhappily.

  "You do things in your own time." Danse replied quietly. "Are you alright?"

  Vega went still for a second. Danse felt her unclench her fists, hands going slack on his body. Had he misspoken-?

  "In my own time, huh?" Vega muttered, almost like she was thinking out loud. "I...I'll be back in a little while, Danse."

  …

  I'm not panicking. Definitely not panicking. One hundred percent not panicking, totally fine.

  Backhand scurried away from the paladin, trying to hide the tell-tale redness of her face. She needed to find either Mrs. O'Brian or MacCready, fast. 

  As luck would have it, MacCready found her. The former merc tapped on her shoulder as she bounced up on her tiptoes to search for Mrs. O'Brian. "Hey boss, Shaun wanted me to ask you if he could sleep over with Duncan tonight." The man began after she whirled around to face him.

  "Yes." Vega replied, perhaps a little too quick and definitely too enthusiastic. "Mac you're a lifesaver, I was just about to ask-"

  "-for me and Cait to watch your kid so you and the tin can can get some alone time?" MacCready smirked, giving her a wink. "Dang General, I don't think I've ever seen you so red! Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

  "Shut up, Mac, you're so exasperating." Backhand jabbed a teasing finger into the center of his chest. "You talk, Mayor, and I'll know." The threat was toothless; the both of them grinned at each other after their fierce staring contest. "Thanks for everything."

  "Don't mention it. I figure getting you some Brotherhood...uh, Steel, heh, is a pretty decent way to make up for the fact that I didn't bring you a present." Mac shrugged, fiddling with the bill of his hat. "I have beef with the Capital Brotherhood, but these guys...I mean, they don't seem all bad." He allowed grudgingly, giving Vega a gentle nudge with his shoulder. "Go on."

  A bracing shot of whiskey shored up her tenuous spark of confidence and Vega marched back to Danse, the large man now engaged in conversation with X6 while Shaun, Duncan, Bridget, Nat and Matthew swirled around their ankles. 

  Danse was saying, "--collateral ramifications would be inadvisable, I suggest a soft breach. With adequate preparation-" 

  "Adequate preparation on your part borders on over-caution." X6 interrupted him dismissively. "However, I will take it into account and speak with Preston on the matter. He seems to share your morality. A pity."

  "Play at the unfeeling machine all you want, X6." Danse retorted. "It does you no favors. You have people who care about you now, and you would not have asked for my input if you believed the endeavour would be futile."

  "True enough, Paladin." The vaguest hint of a smile tugged at X6's mouth. "You are capable."

  "I suppose that is the best that I can hope for."

  "Hey, Danse? Can I uh, have a little chat?" Backhand asked, stifling a hysterical giggle when Danse immediately looked guilty. The paladin nodded, bidding X6 farewell and attempting to sidestep around the children who were currently playing tag in an ever-tightening circle. "Not um, here though. Let's go to my house, okay? Shaun, you're all set to stay overnight with Duncan, Mac and Cait, right?"

  "Yeah!" Shaun replied breathlessly, pausing in his chase to give his mother a massive grin. "Already brought my blankets over and everything. Mister MacCready said Duncan and I could sleep in their wagon, and that he'd tell us Grognak stories!"

  Danse's brow furrowed. "We are leaving the gathering, then?" He asked, looking a bit distressed when Elizabeth nodded. "A moment, please." He turned back to the children, calling for Shaun. 

  The boy bolted away from the group, skidding in the muddy slush. "Yeah, Mister Danse?" He asked, his impatience plain.

  "I, er. I...happy holidays." The paladin mumbled, extracting a small bundle from his jacket pocket and giving it to the child. 

  "Whoa, for me?!" Shaun practically crowed, tearing through the old newspaper to reveal the gift.

  It was a sturdy carved vehicle, its edges sleek and smooth. The wood was coated in shiny green paint, giving the little truck a distinct air of newness in this post-apocalyptic world. Danse swallowed audibly as Shaun stared down at the toy without saying a word. 

  Backhand closed her eyes, hoping and praying that the kid remembered his manners. She hadn't even known Danse had planned on giving him something. Did he make the truck himself? It was wood, not the usual plastic or aluminum of pre-war children's toys. When had he found the time to make a toy? She suddenly remembered his uncharacteristically wide yawn that morning and her eyes flew open, darting to look at Danse. He had been staying up, hadn't he?

  "I love it, Mister Danse!" Shaun interrupted her mental panic with his enthusiastic eruption, smiling wide and bolting forward to hug Danse around the waist. Danse's own relief was evident, the large man patting the child on the back with an awkward chuckle.

  Oh Jesus, I'm not going to cry, Vega insisted, taking a deep breath. Nope, won't do it.

  "Mom look, look what Mister Danse gave me!" Shaun exclaimed, as if she hadn't been standing right there the whole time. 

  "It's really cool, right?" Backhand grinned, rumpling his hair and then giving him a kiss on the forehead. "Make sure you wash your face and brush your teeth before bed, okay? I hope you and Duncan have fun. I love you." 

  "I love you too, Mom, I will. Thank you again, Mister Danse!" Shaun rushed to say, clearly eager to return to his friends. 

  "Alright, go on." Vega tapped the end of his nose, "go have fun." She watched him scramble through the slush, nearly tripping again. "Jesus, he's a bull in a china shop," she sighed, making Danse snort. "Shall we, Paladin?"

  He fell into step beside her, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket and his back ramrod straight. He was silent until they were actually in Elizabeth's living room, the young woman barely able to shut the front door before he started babbling, "if I offended you earlier, if I-I overstepped my bounds, I apologize. I just recalled what you had said about the name he used for you and I'm afraid I started moving before I could reconsider-"

  "Danse, do you remember how we started all of this?" Vega cut off what promised to be a downright incredible justification, cocking her head to the side. "How we met, and what happened?"

  "You came to our aid at the Cambridge police station. Then you carried on assisting me with our mission. You helped acquire the deep range transmitter. You greased my armor." Danse paused, fidgeting. "You...said it was alright if I wanted to kiss you."

  “It’s alright if you want to kiss me, you know.” Her smile was gentle. “I wouldn’t mind.”

  Vega nodded, smiling once more. "The offer still stands, naturally."

  "I...things are different now. I'm different. You still...even now, after everything that you know about me?"

  "Of course."

  "I didn't want to believe you felt that strongly about our...about us." Danse was smiling, actually smiling! "I'd given up hope a long time ago that I would ever be enough for anyone. I was never...enough. Smart enough, or strong enough or...well, just enough, I suppose." He shrugged, his smile fading. "With what happened between Maxson and I, and previously with Cutler…" The large man trailed off.

  Vega took a deep breath, nodding furiously. "I do feel strongly for you. Danse, I know that this is a lot, b-but I...uh, I think I love you." She gestured up and down at the speechless paladin, feeling the heat that bloomed fresh on her cheeks. "Not just the wrapping, y'know, but uh. The whole package. You."

  His look of shock and confusion slowly dissolved into something unreadable, and he broke eye contact for a moment to stare down at his boots. 

  "Uh, it's okay if you don't reciprocate! O-Or even if you can't reciprocate, I'm not going to be offended!" Elizabeth rushed to add, waving her hands nervously. "I know that this is a lot to dump on you all at once, I-I'm sorry. I don't want you feeling pressured to give me an affirmative answer just because you don't want to hurt my feelings or whatever."

  "I...I can't say that I haven't thought about it." He admitted softly. "But Shaun, he needs--Vega, I'm not really human." 

  "Neither is Shaun, but I don't love him any less." Elizabeth replied. "Shaun is my son. For all intents and purposes, he is my real son, Danse."

  "It's one thing to overlook it for a child, Vega. But I'm...what if something goes wrong with me? What if there's some sort of fault in my programming, and that's why I'm like this? What if-"

  "It's alright if you don't want me, or even if this is too much right now. I know, it's a lot." Vega interrupted him, her heart sinking but determined to make damn sure he didn't feel pressured.

  "Christ, that's not what I meant. I just want to make certain you know exactly what it is that you're agreeing to." Danse cut her off, his shoulders rigid like he was bracing for impact. 

  "I understand, Danse. I've understood for a while now." Elizabeth dared to rest her hand on his arm. "I want to be with you. I know that nothing in this shitshow of a future is guaranteed and I want to have something good in my life before my inevitable demise at the hands of some overconfident mole rat."

  Danse nodded stiffly, and then grabbed her by the lapels of her canvas coat. Vega found herself abruptly pinned against the wall, Danse's mouth hungrily seeking her own. "You mean that?" He panted.

  The brush of the stubble on his face reminded her of their first kiss in the Cambridge station and drove home the differences between he and Nate for the hundredth time. Nate was always clean-shaven, favored pecks on the cheek and lived saturated with cologne. But Danse was grizzled, earnest, reeking of the outdoors and power armor grease. Nate had been eloquent, while Danse was taciturn or tripped over his words. Nate was cold and calculating, and Danse…

  Danse was fiery and raw, more vulnerable now than she could ever recall him being before. His knee nudged against her thigh and without conscious input, Elizabeth parted her legs for it and threw her arms around his neck to try to urge him even closer. "Yes, Danse," she gasped. "Oh, Jesus, yes, fuck-ing shit--"

  She ground herself down against his leg, relieved that everything seemed to be functioning normally and somewhat impressed by her body's ability to mount such a rapid response after a two hundred-plus year dry spell! 

  "Language," Danse rumbled in reply, his hands tugging her heavy coat off of her shoulders. "Too fast?"

  "No, hell no!" Backhand protested, "not fast enough."

  "Shh," Danse rested his hands on her hips, shoving up her shirt slightly so he could touch bare skin. "I have you, Vega." Vega pushed herself excitedly into his grip, grinding on his thigh and arching her back. The way his breath hitched sent shockwaves to her core; the way he watched her...

  "Danse we should...we should-" Vega's voice wavered as Danse laved her throat with tender kisses. "-should--bedroom, bed."

  "Yes." The paladin growled, making no move to actually follow the direction. That is, until he hoisted her up to rest on his hips. 

  Backhand yelped, her thighs gripping his sides tightly. "H-Hey!"

  Danse pressed his forehead to her own, brown eyes attempting to read her soul. "Elizabeth…" he sighed, his expression gone hopelessly soft. "I should warn you, if we...if you do this, I...listen, I can be a little--a little wordy, sometimes. If I am speaking too much-"

  "Hey, no, you talk as much as you'd like, okay? Doesn't bug me at all." Vega assured him, slightly curious about what this might mean. Wordy? 

  "Elizabeth, you are everything that I never knew I was looking for." Danse murmured. "When I lost Cutler, I didn't think I deserved to be happy again. I assumed that my failure would continue to darken any future triumph, and when the majority of Gladius was...I feared that I was unfit for my rank. How could anyone have faith in my skills after such a catastrophic loss of life?"

  "It's hard being the one making the choices. You have to be able to bear the burden of responsibility and also the burden of guilt." Vega reasoned, sympathizing with his plight.

  "You had faith in me, though. You didn't even know me, but you didn't judge me for my inadequacy and you allowed me some damn peace. I'm just sorry you had to go through that abuse at Maxson's whim for my sake." Danse cupped her hand in his own, pressing kisses to her scarred knuckles. "You've already done so much for me, Vega. Let me undo you?" He offered seriously, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

  "Well, I uh, I-I can't say I've ever been propositioned quite like that!" Backhand stuttered, certain that her flush covered her entire body at this point. 

  His laughter, heard so rarely, washed over her like a tidal wave. "Forgive me."

  "Only if you keep asking me to have sex like that." Vega shifted her hand in his grip, intertwining their fingers. "C'mon, bedroom."

  "It's not just that." Danse tried to protest, shaking his head. "I care about you. About your wellbeing. I want to make you happy."

  "You do. So happy. I'm so glad that you're here with me still." Vega turned in the doorway of her room when he set her down, seizing Danse by the collar of his worn t-shirt and tugging him into her arms. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Danse."

  "You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that." 

  "It's the truth, though!" She insisted.

  Danse surged forward, his kisses still rough and demanding as he fought to claim her affection. But she gave it freely, all he could ever want and more.

  He stripped her of her shirt and dragged his own off over his head, chuckling at the way she greedily drank in the bare skin he presented. "See something you like, General?" 

  He was hairier than she was used to, but Backhand decided it suited him. Nate, after all, had been absolutely adamant that body hair was grotesque, and now look at him. He'd likely never have to worry about that again.

  Thinking of Nate yet again put a frown on her face and Danse paused, giving her a quizzical look. "Is something amiss?"

  "Oh! No, I'm sorry. I was just remembering. Nate was all…" Elizabeth gestured vaguely at Danse's chest. "He shaved everything. I'm not used to all...well, seeing so much."

  "Is it off-putting? I assure you it's within the Brotherhood's hygiene guidelines, but if you don't like it I-"

  "No, I love it. It's new. I've seen your arms, after all, I knew what I was getting into." Vega teased, grinning to ease his worry. "If you can accept all my stretch marks and leftovers, I can definitely handle your chest pelt."

  "I'm planning on doing far more than accepting." Danse cradled her breasts in his palms, the paladin lowering his head to draw his tongue over one of her nipples. "I don't care." He soothed when Elizabeth tried to stammer out something else in regard to her stretch marks. "I don't care. It doesn't make you any less desirable to me, Elizabeth."

  Vega squeezed her eyes shut, kissing his forehead as he continued to cautiously rouse her peaks until they were stiff and aching for more. Then his thumbs took over, stroking in slow, firm circles that made her quiver from head to toe. "You...you're really good at that." Elizabeth said faintly.

  "I'm pleased you think so." Danse grunted when her fingers found his belt buckle. "It has been a significant amount of time for me as well, I...my excitement may be a bit obvious." He admitted, his smile sheepish. 

  Vega's breath caught in her throat, her hands trembling as she struggled to draw down the worn zipper of his jeans. The underside of his cock throbbed against her palm when she dared to slip her hand into his briefs, his skin searing and smooth. 

  Danse huffed out a breath, crumpling a little at her tentative touch. "Elizabeth," he groaned, hiding his face in her neck as he rolled his hips eagerly into her hand. 

  "Keep saying my name like that." She ordered, laughing when the paladin nodded rapidly into her shoulder. "I love you, Danse."

  ...

  Danse rumbled again, words failing him while Elizabeth's fingers wrapped around his cock. This seemed like a dream, another one of his fantasies brought into being. He couldn't seem to do anything aside from stare down at her hand. 

  "Hey, Danse?"

  He jerked to attention, eyes flying up to meet her own guiltily. "Y-Yes, Vega?" He stuttered.

  "Do you...uh, y'know." Backhand fumbled to undo the button on her jeans. "You can, if you'd like." She finished awkwardly.

  No sooner had she given him permission than Danse was pulling her hand out of his pants, urging her backwards onto her bed even as he kissed her battered knuckles again. "Yes." He grated out, kneeling to untie her boots so he could get her pants off. "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes."

  "A for enthusiasm, big guy." Elizabeth teased, lazily fingercombing his short hair back. Her veneer of composure was shattered when the paladin eased her underwear down her legs, the young woman covering her face as if she was embarrassed. "Listen, just uh, go easy on me. It's been over two hundred years, after all." She reasoned weakly.

  Danse swallowed hard. Cutler had always praised his dirty talk, the calculated way he could take apart a person with his words and touch alone. Maxson hadn't appreciated his speech, granted, but perhaps…

  "You're saying you don't want me to bury my fingers in you, Elizabeth? You don't want me to open you up, work my way into that beautiful, flushed little cunt of yours?" Danse rasped, two fingers tracing lightly on her pubic mound. Her cesarean scar was faintly visible, and he felt a brief flare of concern before recalling that was indeed where the scar was from.

  "Oh, Jesus. Okay." Vega gasped, blue eyes wide in what Danse could only assume was shock. "Keep that up and you won't have to worry about using anything else. Fuck, Danse, have some pity here." She pleaded, burying her hands in her hair. 

  "Language. Do you deserve my pity? How would you earn it?" The paladin queried, the heel of his hand applying steady pressure to her mound now. 

  "I can be good, Paladin! I can be really good. So good." Her breathless use of his title had Danse's cock pounding, though he tried not to make it obvious. "Please Danse, please touch me…"

  Danse climbed up onto the bed alongside her, gently parting her labia with his fingers. "You'll be good for me, Elizabeth?" He asked, propping himself up with an elbow.

  "Yes, please."

  She had wonderful manners. Danse grazed her clit and her breath stuttered, the paladin spreading the liberal lubrication that she had already created with deft, slow strokes of his index. "Please, what?"

  "P-Please...Danse."

  He cautiously eased one finger into her, exhaling raggedly when her hand sought out his cock. "Vega-"

  "Shh, let me." Elizabeth hushed him, her smile a little dreamy as Danse crooked his finger and rubbed in just the right spot. "Oh, f-uck, Paladin, you--"

  "Language, Vega. Can't have you being a bad example while I'm knuckle deep in your cunt." Danse admonished, groaning when she whimpered. "You're so tight, this could take ages. We'll need to come up with some stretches to cope with this." He teased gruffly, sliding in another finger and spreading her open. "Mm, Elizabeth, you need to relax. Relax." He murmured, latching onto her breast.

  He felt her pussy clench down around his fingers and he took a greedy suckle from her breast, making Vega cry out his name, "Danse!" She twitched and writhed under his deft attack, her thighs quivering even as she tried to spread them wider for him. Her hand fell still on his cock, not that Danse minded. It had always been more about his partner, he couldn't care less if nothing was done for him. Watching someone else fall apart because of him...now that was its own reward.

  "What do I need to do to get you there, hmm?" Danse taunted playfully, tonguing sloppily over the peak of her breast. "What will it take, Elizabeth?"

  She arched her back in response, pressing her breast firmly against his mouth, and Danse gently nibbled on the sensitive area she had offered up. Elizabeth sobbed out, shoving one hand down to her cunt to spread herself even wider for his plundering fingers. "More, Danse! Please please please-" she begged, her moan when he pressed a third finger into her absolutely enough to have Danse hurrying to talk himself down. "Yes, Danse." She was practically growling, her arousal something primal and untamed. 

  If Danse had his way, it would stay like that forever. 

  "What is it that you want, Vega?" His inquiry was almost lazy, three fingers stroking in and out with much less resistance now. "Hmm, I wonder if you're wet enough to take me."

  "You can't just-" Vega made a noise of dismay. "That's not fair, Danse, that's not fair, you know it's not. Please, please fuck me." 

  Jesus. Danse almost choked on his own breath, letting his fingers slip out of her cunt. "How do you want me?" His voice broke noticeably. It felt like a lifetime since he had been desired, wanted in such a blatant and strangely pure fashion. She loved him. She wanted him inside her. Wanted him to make love to her. Wanted him.

  The speed at which she flung herself up a little higher on the bed made Danse want to laugh, but then she was arching her back and looking over her shoulder at him and he suddenly forgot how to breathe for a moment. "This okay?" She panted, brown hair all tumbled around her face as she took off her glasses and pitched them in the general direction of her bedside table.

  Danse nodded hurriedly, kicking his pants off. "If you need me to stop, just grab my hand." He instructed.

  "This isn't exactly my first time getting fucked, Danse-"

  "Language," the paladin reprimanded her with a chuckle, greedily fondling her rear as he mounted up behind her. "You have such a beautiful form, Vega." He murmured, leaning over to press a kiss between her shoulder blades. "An absolute vision."

  "I do have nice tits." 

  Danse rolled his eyes, slipping his hands down to grope said breasts. She gasped out, rocking back against him as he agreed, "yes you do, that can't be denied. Soft, the perfect size, they fit in my hands so well, and so sensitive." He found himself laughing when she whimpered again. "Don't offer up all your weak spots unless you want them taken advantage of, Vega."

  "The only thing I want to take advantage of right now is the raging hard-on I can feel." Elizabeth wriggled and Danse grunted, shuddering. "Pl-ease Danse, please put it in me."

  The paladin slipped his cock between her labia, the hot, slick flesh pressing against him mercilessly as he teased her. He suddenly felt her fingers on his cock and then-

  "Fuck." The paladin grated out the uncharacteristic curse through his teeth, his fists meeting the bedding on either side of her body as he fought the urge to thrust himself home in one breath.

  Elizabeth half-collapsed while he slowly, slowly rutted into her, the woman panting and clawing at the blankets. "Mmmgod, Danse-" she slurred, sighing loudly. "So good, fuck, Danse…"

  Danse toyed with her nipples, stupidly snarling "language," as she keened in reply. "I'll take care of you, Elizabeth. Be good for me." He pressed a kiss to her temple, smirking at the way her body quaked when he finally bottomed out in her. "That's it, look at you, taking all of me so well," he praised. "Now, how can I make you come?"

  "Fu--Please use your big cock to get me off, oh please Danse!" She begged and Danse fondled her breasts yet again.

  "You don't want me to touch you here, just like this?" He asked, stroking over her nipples and lingering to tease the area. "They're so hard, though, begging for my attention."

  Backhand made a noise of despair, burying her face in her pillow. 

  "I think you need me to play with them, don't you? You like when I touch them like this." Danse muttered, thinking out loud and coming to that realization even as the words left his mouth. "What is it about it that you like?"

  "S-Sensitive." Vega whimpered, "feels good."

  Danse rumbled again, bending over to press his chest to her back so he could whisper in her ear, "does it feel good when I'm inside you, Elizabeth? Can you feel how hard I am for you? Feel how badly I need you?" 

  Elizabeth gifted him this pitiful sound, canting her hips and clenching down around his cock so tightly it took Danse's breath away. "Yes, I love it. I need you too, Danse." She murmured, shifting back and forth ever so slightly.

  "Good. I'm glad." Danse took hold of her hips, seating his cock as deeply as he could in her cunt. Elizabeth whined, burying her face in her pillow again as he slowly began to make love to her. 

  Paladin Logan Danse, pride of the Brotherhood of Steel, had never been a man who took sex lightly. It was too important. Even after everything that had happened with Maxson, Danse still held to that belief. The display of vulnerability, the offer of power in exchange for pleasurable release, the brief moments of tenderness in an existence that was soul-crushingly difficult…

  It was serious. It always was. 

  Vega's arms gave out and she slumped onto the bed, but Danse followed her down. Covering her with his body, the paladin thrust into her again and again, her soft whimpers and cries of his name music to his ears. "What do you need, sweetheart?" He asked raggedly when she began to squirm and arch back against him. "What can I give you, Elizabeth?"

  "Fuck me, Danse!" She pleaded, turning her head to the side so she could see him. 

  "Language," Danse smiled, kissing her temple again. "But understood, ma'am."

  …

  For the first time since she'd awoken to an irradiated hellscape, Vega was wholly content to just lay down and be taken care of. 

  Danse was huge, proportionate to his already overgrown size, and he made the most incredible sounds when she inadvertently squeezed down on him. Groans burring in his chest like some untamed animal; he seemed content to just slowly fuck her into oblivion. Which was honestly more than she thought she would ever get. 

  Her fantasies, much as she'd believed they were wrong or silly at the time, didn't hold a candle to the reality of having Danse on top of her. She had gotten off more than once to this exact idea, being dominated and pinned by the massive paladin. This was a dream come true.

  Elizabeth whined when he bottomed out in her again and just rutted himself back and forth slightly, making her feel every inch of his cock. The underside of his dick throbbed against the spot that made her see stars and then, the bastard, he slid his cock out of her cunt to press the head to her clit for a second. "Turn over for me?" He requested, punctuated by a gentle smack to her ass.

  Vega rushed to obey, eager to have him back inside her as quickly as possible. The woman spread her legs wide so Danse could settle in between them and when the paladin did, he shifted upwards to kiss her tenderly. 

  "I've wanted this for so long." He admitted quietly.

  "So have I!" Elizabeth replied in delight, her grin beaming. She was sure she looked like a mess, her hair stuck to her forehead with sweat and her face all flushed. But the way Danse was smiling at her…

  She found she didn't really care about her appearance at this point in time.

  "I love you." Danse murmured as he slid back inside her. 

  "I l-love you, Danse." Vega stuttered, the natural curvature of his cock applying steady pressure to her g-spot. "Make me feel so good, fuck."

  "Language." He growled, making her laugh and then moan. 

  "Feels too good, brain can't cope." She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck and tugging him closer until all he could do was grind down into her in a merciless manner. The motion flung her towards her peak, disconnecting her mouth even further from her brain and making her ramble into his ear, "God, I love you so much, make me feel so good--"

  "I love you too, Elizabeth." He panted into the hollow of her throat, "you feel incredible. Outstanding."

  Elizabeth wasn't sure how she could feel both so aroused she thought she might die and so annoyed that she wanted to explode. "Danse, did you just call my pussy outstanding?"

  "It's not an incorrect statement, from my perspective. It's perfect. Wet and tight and hot." The paladin praised her freely, a hand lowering to apply gentle pressure over the scar on her lower stomach. "Beautiful."

  I am not going to cry, Vega told herself sternly as she hid her face in Danse's neck. Definitely not going to cry, not going to.

  A sob somehow escaped her as she came and Danse froze, his whole body flinching when her cunt clenched down on his dick. "V...Vega?" He asked tentatively.

  "I'm fine! I'm fine, I promise, m'not hurt or anything. My brain is just dumb." Elizabeth hiccupped, rubbing her eyes. "I'm okay, Danse, I'm fine."

  The paladin seemed uncertain and she couldn't blame him, she didn't seem fine even if she felt a thousand times better than she had in literal months. 

  "I swear I'm okay, that was just...it was really intense, y'know?" She mumbled awkwardly, unable to make eye contact anymore. 

  She felt Danse shift his weight and then he settled down on top of her, holding her close and tight. "You're sure?" He murmured, "if you're overwhelmed, that's entirely acceptable. I'm not hurting you, am I?"

  "No, shit no, you feel incredible. I'm not going to be able to walk after this." Vega huffed, giggling a little when he rolled his eyes. "Keep going, okay? It feels fantastic."

  "If you're certain." Danse acquiesced, kissing a hot trail down her neck when she nodded. "Let me know if you need me to stop." 

  Watching his forearms cord with muscle as he propped himself back up again, Vega's mouth went dry. "I have to say, this might be the best night of my life." 

  Danse pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead, the tenderness of the action a wonderful contrast to the needy way he sheathed his cock in her body once more. "I've thought about this." He confessed again, punctuated by a roll of his hips. "What you'd sound like, look like beneath me. You put my imagination to shame." 

  "What did I do in your dreams?" Backhand asked, unable to keep from breathlessly laughing when Danse hid his face in her neck. "So shy, Paladin! Even with that huge cock in me?"

  "It's lewd, Elizabeth, I-I'm not proud of it." He mumbled. "Shouldn't have thought of you that way." He spread her legs wider, one hand on the back of each knee to urge her to bend. 

  "Mm, you thought about fucking me? Nice to know I'm not the only one with dirty thoughts." 

  "I did not." He protested staunchly. His cock slid back and forth between her pussy lips in a purposeful teasing motion. "I thought about how...I thought about how good it would feel to make love to you." He continued, his voice wavering slightly as his dick brushed her entrance and he plunged deep yet again. "Thought about how good I could make you feel."

  Now it was Vega's turn to be shy, the woman looking away from him and flushing.

  "It was still inappropriate at the...time, but I assure you it was never about that. I am not-" Danse struggled for a moment to find the words, before he sighed and rested his forehead against her own. "This already isn't simple, and I know I make it miles less so. Forgive me."

  "I feel like it's pretty simple." Vega gasped, twitching as his fingers landed on her clit. "I f--fuck, Danse--I feel like it's real simple. You like me. Love me, yeah?"

  "It's more than that, dammit." Danse growled, rubbing her clit in merciless circles. "What you did for me...how can I ever be worth your affection? Hell, your time?"

  Elizabeth threw her head back, arching her entire body up into his chest. "Whatever good I give to you," she moaned, almost exasperated that they were even having this discussion, "you deserve it. Take it." 

  Danse's hands latched down on her hips, thumbs stroking back and forth over her pronounced stretch marks as he fucked into her so fiercely that Vega swore she saw stars. His pelvis ground against her own, body hair providing a delicious new sensation that had Vega grasping at the blankets in an effort to keep herself grounded. "I'm going to come, Elizabeth." Danse panted. "Where do you-"

  "Inside." Backhand implored him, "come inside me, Paladin, please come inside me-" Her voice broke as she begged and Danse groaned loud, the sound incredulous.

  "You...inside? Are you sure?" He asked through gritted teeth, dark brown eyes conveying his uncertainty. In reply, Vega dug the heels of her feet in beneath his rear, effectively locking him in place. 

  She caught a handful of his hair, gently tugging it until he leaned down again so she could seethe in his ear, "yes."

  "Oh, dammit." With that wonderfully characteristic swear, Danse shoved his mouth against hers gracelessly. The heat in her belly spilled over from the onslaught of his enthusiastic thrusts and Backhand cried out, fingernails digging into his back when she came a second time. 

  Danse, either spurred on by her sounds or by the way her pussy gripped his dick (maybe a combination? Backhand mused) found his release seconds after, his voice breaking and dropping into a lower tone as he moaned her name. Her real name.

  Elizabeth.

  Vega cupped the nape of his neck, guiding his face into the hollow of her shoulder. "Lay down, sweetheart, you're shaking." She murmured, stroking over his quivering back.

  "Don't want to flatten you." Danse rasped, his dick still throbbing inside her.

  "Lay down. It's okay." Elizabeth flexed her bicep. "I'm strong, I can handle it." Danse laughed wearily, almost immediately going limp on top of her. She wrapped her arms back around him, fingers digging into the knots that she found to ease out the tension. "There, isn't that better?"

  "Mmmmuch." Danse slurred into her neck, sounding exhausted. "Love you."

  "I love you. Sleep, okay? We'll get cleaned up later. Right now though you seem like you could use a nap."

  Danse nodded, the tangled mess of his hair mashed flat against her cheek in the process. "Want...to be a good parent." He mumbled several minutes later, just as Vega had thought he was dozing off. Danse propped himself up with one arm, cradling Vega's cheek in his palm. His thumb absently traced the cryo burn marks from the stasis as he continued, "a true partner for you. I don't know if you...if you even want me in that capacity, I--I don't know whether you would prefer that Shaun thinks of me as simply your friend, but I-"

  "Danse," Elizabeth interrupted him sternly, raising an eyebrow. "Someone who's simply a friend wouldn't be balls deep in me."

  Danse sputtered, his blush spreading down his neck to his chest. Despite his proclivity for dirty talk in the moment, he was endearingly embarrassed by her blunt words. Vega felt her heart pound as he floundered to collect himself, the large man looking away. 

  He's really nothing at all like Nate.

  "Danse." Her voice was gentler this time, unmistakable affection bleeding through. "I would have to ask Shaun, of course, and I'd like to have an adjustment period before I do so that he can get comfortable with the idea on his own, but…" The young woman swallowed hard. Why was she so nervous all of a sudden? Oh sure, she could handle the vulnerability of being naked and fucked with absolute abandon but this? This was where her brain drew the line? Unbelievable, Backhand grumbled at herself. "I think the odds are in your favor." She concluded with a grin.

  "You...even though I'm not-?"

  "He's probably the last person to care about that kinda' stuff, Danse. C'mon." Vega chided, running her fingers through his sweaty hair. "Now. We are...absolutely disgusting. We need a bath big time."

  "I...you're right, of course." Danse agreed absently, still seeming shocked at the whole scenario. "I should...w-we should bathe. Er, at the same time. To save water." He didn't meet her eyes, his attention focused somewhere by her left shoulder. 

  Elizabeth laughed, bumping their foreheads together before carefully scooting up the bed. His cock slipped out of her and she couldn't help her sigh, the noise echoed by the paladin who tilted his chin to catch her with a kiss.

  "You are amazing." He breathed when they parted, his smile small but sincere. "I'm...I'll be hard-pressed to keep my hands off you, Elizabeth."

  "Why bother?" Vega asked, chuckling as he ducked back in for another kiss. 

  ...

  Hours later, Danse laid awake while Elizabeth slept peacefully on his chest. The paladin stared up at the ceiling, his mind running rampant.

  The future.

  He hadn't really dared to think about it since discovering his true identity. Hadn't felt like it was something he deserved. After all, if he was just a machine, it hardly mattered. But Elizabeth…

  She thought it mattered. She wanted him. Wanted him to stay with her. Wanted him to act as a father. Pending Shaun's approval, of course. 

  It was surreal how much his life had changed, how far they had come in such a short amount of time. Danse was a little overwhelmed by it all, if he was being honest. Scared, yet hopeful at the same time. And, he thought as he wrapped his arm around Elizabeth, incredibly, immensely grateful.

  This new world was unforgiving, the universe coldly testing the mettle of a man time and again. But Danse had finally come out the other side, and he liked to think he had changed for the better. 

  Whatever the future held, they would face it together. 

  Ad Victoriam, General Vega. Thank you for having faith in me.

[reneejuliet]

Leave Me Wanting

Author: reneejuliet

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Rating: M (smut in the form of male masturbation, cursing)

Word Count: 1,636

Genre: Smut, Friends to Lovers?, Idol AU

Author’s Note: Presenting my second drabble! Hoseok has had me feeling some kind of way lately (though still not my bias, lulz) and since I can’t make him my central character in Ignorance is Bliss, I’m sharing this little piece I’ve had on my phone for at least a year now. It’s also brewing in my mind as a possible continuation, so please let me know what you think. And, also, I maybe just sorta really love hearing what you guys think.

Similar to I can hear the bells, this is more from Hoseok’s POV. I don’t know why I wrote it that way - it literally just sort of poured out of me. If I continued this, it would switch POVs between Hoseok and you, the Reader. 

And - this starts kinda right off the bat so I’m putting a ‘keep reading’ under all this before the story starts. Enjoy! (Photo/gif above edited/made by me (if it isn’t showing please let me know, it deleted out like three times while I made this post o.o))

 His breathing was labored, heavy pants and ragged inhales echoing off the linoleum of the crappy bathroom stall. One hand was splayed out against the wall, fingers spread and digging into the tile while the other wrapped tightly around his dick, pumping and twisting in search of his release. The ache was constant, but dull. Every now and then he was able to work it into a throb, a spike of pleasure shooting into his stomach, but it was quick to disappear again. The groan that left his lips was one of frustration more than titillation.

Three sharp slams on the bathroom door jolted him, a wave of panic seeping into his exhausted muscles. Until your familiar voice cut through the thick metal as easily as a knife through butter.

"Come on, Jung! We don't have all day! Your meeting starts in twenty minutes!"

He groaned again, his grip growing slack for a moment. The meeting he had completely forgotten about, of course. The whole reason you had pulled into this shitty little gas station. He'd been a mess when you picked him up, having allowed the hook up to run longer than he had intended. It wasn't that big of a deal, he'd thought then - it wouldn't be the first time you had seen him so disheveled, and he was just going to go back to the dorms and pass out in his bed. Until you reminded him of the godforsaken meeting he had with the company's producers regarding his next mixtape. He certainly couldn't go into it with rumpled clothes, sex hair, and fresh hickies blooming under the collar of his shirt.

So, ever the professional handler, you had detoured the vehicle into the nearest gas station and all but dragged his sorry-looking ass into the downtrodden bathroom. Your hands were magic as you cleaned him up: running wet fingers through his hair to smooth and straighten, wiping a damp towel over the wrinkles in his shirt, dabbing just enough concealer over the irritated skin on his collar to lessen the appearance. The determination in your eyes had been so focused you hadn't even noticed the tip of your tongue sneaking between your teeth as you worked. But he had. And coupled with the way your fingers tugged on his hair, pressed against the planes of his chest, well... He'd been left with a whole other problem then.

He'd blamed it on the passionate goodbye he'd shared with Minjee just seconds before you'd shown up. She always did love riling him back up before sending him on his way with a cheeky smirk. He'd smiled sheepishly at you, his friend and current chauffeur, when you both noticed the bulge in his pants. You'd groaned loudly, slapping a hand to your face.

"Damn it, Hoseok, seriously? Three hours wasn't enough??"

You'd left him alone in the bathroom then, with a five minute deadline to "fix himself", as you had so lovingly put it. You were sure to state that this was one thing you would not be doing for him.

It should have been easy. It was hardly his first time masturbating, after all. Even the pressure of having you waiting for him outside wasn't a deterrent - he'd had plenty of quickies before a concert or an interview over the years. And his arsenal of material to work with was hardly empty. Minjee was very expressive during sex, and incredibly vocal. Not to mention that woman's curiosity. Damn. There was a reason he kept going back to her. Yet, every image he recalled, every smooth curve of her body and dulcet whine of her voice only served him to the brink of what he needed. For some reason, it just wasn't enough to push him over the edge this time.

Two more bangs on the door and he cursed under his breath. "Hoseok! Come on!"

"Alright! Shit," he yelled back, exhaling deeply and closing his eyes. Absently, he trailed his fingers gently down his length with a feather-light touch. His heart flipped tiredly in his chest, lower gut tugging slightly in response.

He ran a hand through his hair, the strands still damp from your grooming. The phantom feel of your fingernails on his scalp echoed in his mind and his dick twitched at the reminder. Then suddenly your image was conjured behind his eyelids, your bright eyes focused on him as you ran your hands through his hair, tongue poking out between your lips. Those soft, pale lips that parted in small sighs as you worked on him. The blood surged abruptly into his cock and he gasped, catching the twitching member in his grasp again and moaning as his hand instinctively twisted down to the base before squeezing.

"Fuck," he whispered, voice rough in his throat. Your hands drifted down to his collar, brushing against the hot skin as you dabbed the concealer on. He could still feel the delicious ache that swelled under his skin from the pressure of your touch. His dick throbbed heavily in response and he pumped himself, stomach tightening into a hard coil.

"Ffffffffuck, oh," he gasped out as your hands moved down to his chest now, the wet towel doing little to cool the burning flush of his skin beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. Not with how your fingertips trailed behind it, tracing the lines of his body without even realizing. The way you had brushed along his hips - they thrust into his grip at the memory as he pumped harder, faster. His free hand was shaking as he tangled it into his hair, his throat choking off the sound of your name -

"Hoseok!"

Your voice was flustered, exasperated. Damn near whiny - and that was all he needed. The sound went straight to his dick and it throbbed once, twice more before he came. Hard. The moan he released was low, animalistic in his desperation. There were stars behind his eyes as he finally blinked them open, his chest heaving as the warmth slowly dissipated from his stomach. It took a few more lazy pumps to completely spend himself, at which point he was left staring down at his mess in utter shock and confusion.

Despite his location, despite how rushed and utterly far from intimate the situation had been, that was by far one of the most intense orgasms he'd ever had. And it was all because of you.

What the actual fuck?

It wasn't like you were unattractive. On the contrary, Hoseok thought you were very pretty. It was one of the first things he had noticed the day you caught him with Minjee. He'd simply chalked up any attraction stemming from that to the fact that he had been in the middle of getting his dick sucked - he was sure he had literal hearts for eyes at the time. The second time he had seen you, he'd attributed the flip of his stomach to the nerves coursing through every inch of his body at the topic he was about to breach with you. He couldn't exactly have you going around blabbing about what you had seen, even if you did work for BigHit. He had his image to maintain, after all, and if any of the higher ups found out he was recklessly endangering that, he'd be in a world of trouble.

So imagine his surprise when you swore to keep his secret. Not to mention the utter befuddlement you left him in when you offered him advice on how to continue hooking up, albeit much more discreetly. To say he'd never met anyone like you didn't quite grasp the exact gravity of the situation - he'd never even dreamed someone like you existed. The friendship that blossomed between you in the subsequent months was a marvel to Hoseok, and the idea of spending time with you amidst his hook ups was almost as exciting as said hook up. But only almost.

Until today, at least. Because apparently, somewhere down the road, Hoseok had developed more than just a friendly inclination toward you. He refused to acknowledge this, however, as he proceeded to hastily clean himself up before exiting the stall. Giving himself a once-over in the grimy mirror, he steeled his expression.

No, this was not the time to try and name anything of that sort.

He remained silent as he exited the bathroom, making a beeline for the vehicle. You muttered a breathy "finally" as you followed, climbing swiftly back into the driver's seat and starting the engine. It wasn't until you were on the road again that you spared a look at him.

"You know, if I had known it would be that difficult for you to get yourself off, maybe I should have offered my assistance."

It was a joke - you were joking. Like you always did. Somehow, you found this entire situation of his amusing. Hoseok knew this, and yet he couldn't help the way in which his limp dick twitched in his pants. He winced, and you noticed.

"Hey," you called, voice softer, more serious. "You okay?"

No, no, no. He was so very much not okay. He had just jerked off to the thought of one of his best friends, and had one of the most ardent orgasms of his life because of it. None of which he could say to you, because he simply was not ready to open that can of worms.

So he forced out one of his usual, sarcastic quips instead.

"Sorry, just - did you want it to take longer?"

You laughed, and it eased the tension building inside his chest. His lips adorned his usual grin, and he glanced at the window. If you knew the truth... you'd be anything but amused.

Well, there it is! I’m not a big smut writer - only recently sort of branched out into it - so please let me know what you think! And, again, if you’d like to see more. I have overtime at work for the next few weeks, but I’m trying to fit in more writing here and there.

Also, I apologize for the disheveled state of my blog! Now that I’ve got more (read: three) pieces posted, I’ll try to create a masterlist ASAP. Don’t know if I’ll accomplish that this weekend, but I shall try. 

Thanks again for reading! ^.^

(dngkaenrkjnerskjgesnrkjeew okay the gif took me fckng forever to get uploaded and it isn’t even the size I wanted but I’m a dinosaur who doesn’t quite have a handle on this newfangled technology so it is what it is. Please feel free to share wisdom with me regarding this shit hahahaha *sobs*)

©reneejuliet 2020. No part of this material may be copied, photocopied, reproduced, reposted, or translated without consent.

[green-eyeddragonfanfiction]

By Chance

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader Summary: A/B/O!AU. Female!Reader is an Omega. Alphas and Omegas are rare, and Reader’s been able to avoid alphas through sheer force of will and luck in equal parts. Warnings: a/b/o dynamics, violence, knotting, vaginal sex, unprotected sex Word Count: ~9k A/N: I’m legitimately pissed this got deleted in the great Tumblr Purge 2k18. This was my most popular singular fic. Fuck the new Community Guidelines. In I wasn’t clear, this is a repost of my original work that got deleted in December 2018. 

 Bucky’s POV

The first time he smelled her was when he was on a mission. Vanilla and Wildflower. The single-minded focus that had been drilled into him by the Hydra brainwashing and training was severed in an instant and his head whipped around to search for the source. He tore his mask off and dropped it onto the ground unceremoniously, sniffing the air frantically as he tried to pinpoint the scent. His blood sang in his veins.

The scents of the city made it hard to pinpoint her, but he wouldn’t give up. He left the spot he’d been staking out for hours, rifle forgotten on the ledge as he jumped off of the roof, dropping two stories onto the ground and rolled to diffuse the worst of the impact. His knees protested in agony anyway, but he ignored them along with the shocked cries of bystanders as he followed her scent.

He’d smelled other Omegas before. Most of them had been claimed, just a passing flicker of recognition in the back of his mind while he was out on mission. Rarely, he’d catch the scent of an unclaimed Omega, but even then it was only a brief, fleeting distraction, his Hydra programming overriding his biological programming.

Something about this Omega broke the control Hydra had over his mind, cutting through the fog with ease. He realized distantly that he’d started remembering things about himself; the feeling of chasing after an omega was familiar, linking him back to a life that had long been erased from his memory.

He had to find her. He wove between pedestrians, most of them avoiding him, likely in fear. They didn’t know who he was- the deadly assassin The Winter Soldier-, but between the way he was dressed, his metal arm, and the pheromones he was surely exerting, they couldn’t get out of his way fast enough.

The scent was growing stronger and there was something else there, now. Fear? Yes, it was fear. She was afraid. Had she caught wind of him? Omegas were sometimes known to have a greater sense of smell than even Alphas. Still, it seemed unlikely; he should have been upwind from her.

He picked up his pace. He knew he was getting closer; her scent was getting stronger with each step he took. He could nearly taste it. She wasn’t in heat yet but she was close- oh so close.

His search led him to a sleek skyscraper in the middle of the city. People in expensive suits came and went but Bucky paid them little to no mind, threw open the doors, and made a beeline for the security gate. The moment he’d entered the building her scent had nearly overwhelmed him. She clearly came here often. The guards tried to stop him from going further into the building, but he quickly incapacitated them, a feral snarl on his lips; he was still in enough of his right mind to leave them breathing, but every second he spent inhaling her scent whittled away at his patience. He wrecked the alarm system and destroyed the computers at the front desk for good measure.

He took the stairs, feet eating up the levels faster than any normal man could dream of imitating. He paused at each new floor long enough to open the door and see if her scent originated there, but each new level was a bust and the scent only got stronger as he got closer to the top. He growled when he reached the end of the stairs, glaring at the sign on the wall signaling that the only other thing above him now was the roof. He yanked on the door handle but it only creaked in its frame. He gripped it instead with his metal hand and pulled hard, bracing one foot against the door frame for leverage. The gears in his arm whirred against the strain he was putting on it, but after a moment the door gave a pitiful squeal as he wrenched it off of its hinges and threw it behind him. It clattered loudly down the stairwell but Bucky barely heard it. Her scent washed over him like a tidal wave. It seemed the Omega worked on the top floor. He stepped through the door and took in his surroundings quickly. The top floor appeared to be a lavish office and waiting room. The door to the office was closed, thick wooden doors hiding whatever lied beyond. His enhanced hearing picked up on something hiding behind the receptionist’s desk and he stalked forward slowly, not making a sound.

Whoever was behind it was breathing heavily, obviously terrified. The scent he’d followed here was completely overriding his sense of smell. He could tell there were usually multiple people on this floor, but he couldn’t pinpoint how many or where they were at that moment. He lunged over the desk suddenly, pinning the person on the other side to the ground.

The receptionist shrieked in fear, staring up at him, wide-eyed. He leaned down next to her neck and inhaled deeply. He nearly recoiled in disgust. Just a Beta. Not the scent he followed here.

“Who else is on this level?” he asked, voice rough with disuse.

Speaking only seemed to scare her more; she let out a squeak and closed her eyes tightly as though he’d disappear if she couldn’t see him anymore.

“Answer me,” he growled, pheromones rolling off his body in waves. Betas couldn’t smell them like Alphas and Omegas could, but they still influenced them subconsciously.

“My boss. Ms. (Y/L/N),” she whimpered, breathless.

“Run,” he commanded, standing a half second later to let her up. She bolted to her feet and sprinted for the door to the stairs, her high heels flying off her feet as she went. She disappeared into the stairwell in a flurry of curled blond hair and Bucky shifted his attention to the doors of the office.

He walked up and yanked on the doors. They didn’t open, but he hadn’t expected them to. The door to this floor had been reinforced and every other door he’d tried hadn’t been. This floor, this ‘Ms. (Y/L/N),’ had special protection.

“Open the door,” he demanded, his nostrils flaring in anger. He could try and be civil, but his blood was boiling.

“Not gonna happen,” came a muffled response from the other side. “I know what you are, and this isn’t the first time one of you has come after me,” she said, sounding determined.

Defiance? From an Omega? That was a new one. He grinned wolfishly. It seemed like this might actually be a little bit of fun.

“I tried bein’ nice. Stand back, little Omega,” he warned. He waited a second before he reeled his arm back and let his fist fly towards the door. To his surprise, a loud resounding metal clang rang throughout the room. His fist had breached a layer of wood only to be met with a layer of steel. He snarled his anger, slamming his flesh fist against the door in annoyance.

“This won’t keep me out,” he said, bringing his fist back for another blow.

“That’s what they all say,” she said, sounding breathless. He tasted her fear and arousal in the air and he groaned. Why did she smell so damn amazing?

“Well, Doll, those others ain’t nothin’ like me,” he said as he let another devastating punch fly at the door.

“It’s reinforced with steel, so unless you brought a battering ram-” she was cut off when he landed another blow which dented the metal and caused the doors to squeak on their hinges.

“Like I said, stand back,” he said, smirking, as he threw more punches at the door. Two more blows and they flew open, one barely staying on its hinges. The other flew a foot or so until it crashed to the ground, shaking the floor with its weight. His eyes locked onto her immediately and he groaned with desire at the sight in front of him.

 Your POV

In somewhat detached horror, you watched from your spot on the floor on the other side of the room as your expensive reinforced doors were effectively destroyed. Never in all your years had an alpha actually managed to break through them. Hell, none of them had ever made it past the stairwell door. You knew this was the alpha that had been following you from the center of town. His scent had come flooding in the moment he made it to the top floor; a rainy forest and gunpowder. It affected you worse than any alpha ever had, as evidenced by your sopping underwear. You were panting and you were so hot if felt like your body was on fire. You rubbed your thighs together, needing to relieve some of the tension that had built up there. It didn’t help; in fact, it only seemed to make it worse. His blue eyes locked onto yours and you trembled, hand slipping down between your legs to rub yourself through your clothing.

He was huge, this alpha, and armed to the teeth. You spotted at least two guns, a few grenades, and a knife. It only took a quick glance at his left arm to understand how he’d made it through your door. His pupils dilated until the steel blue of his irises was but a thin line around the endless black.

“Please go,” you whined, desperate, unable to look away from him.

“I can’t do that, little Omega,” he said, stepping towards you. “You’re effecting me as much as I’m effecting you,” he said, closing the distance between you in a few measured steps. You glanced down at the bulge in his pants, confirming his words. Even though he was wearing tight leather it was obvious he was well endowed.

He used every ounce of his patience and newly regained compassion as he knelt down in front of you, eyes roaming every inch of you. She’s gorgeous, this Omega, he thought to himself. He had to have you; how you’d stay unclaimed was slightly beyond him. You could have any man you wanted, Alpha or no.

“You won’t relieve that need by yourself,” he whispered, running a hand up your thigh slowly. You whimpered at the touch, eyes hazy with want. He leaned in, nuzzling your cheek as his metal hand snuck under your shirt, making you shiver. It felt downright frigid compared to your blazing skin. “I know you want me, Omega. I smelled it before I even entered the building. Accept me. I’ll make everything better,” he murmured, breath tickling your ear. His voice was a low, hoarse growl, as though he wasn’t used to speaking.

His words fried what was left of your brain, and your primal Omega urges kicked in. You nodded, arms wrapping around his neck as you planted kisses onto his neck and jaw. “Please, Alpha. Help me,” you murmured.

“Good girl. I’m going to make you feel so good,” he purred, lifting you up from the ground as he stood. He pushed you up against your desk, hands roving your body greedily. You wrapped a leg around his waist, grinding your core against his strained leather pants. He growled, pulling your hips into his as he crushed himself against your core. You moaned, the friction feeling amazing against your touch-starved pussy. He grabbed your leg and pulled it off of his hip. You only had a second to wonder at his actions before he ripped open the button on your pants and peeled them down your legs, nearly taking your underwear with them. Your heels came off with them, clattering to the ground beside your desk.

  His fingers ran along the lace of your underwear slowly. You looked up at him and he stared down at you as though you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He relished the way the lace felt against his fingers and the way you looked at him. Your gaze made him feel once again like the powerful Alpha he was.

His fingers slowly snuck between your legs and he captured your lips in his. His kiss was hungry and messy and he groaned into it when he felt how wet you were.

He broke the kiss, smirking down at you. “All this for me?” he asked, running his fingers up and down your slit over the lace. His fingers lingered over your clit, gently teasing it. The touches wrenched a lewd moan from you and you nodded as you bit your lip to try and stop more from spilling forth.

“Yes, Alpha,” you whimpered, hand reaching forward to palm at the bulge in his pants.

“Do you want my knot, Omega?” he growled as he ripped your underwear from your body, the lacy cloth quickly forgotten as it fell to the floor.

“Yes, Alpha. Please, take me. I want your knot,” you moaned as his flesh fingers found their way into your soaking cunt. He pumped them in and out of you mercilessly and you arched into his touch, needing more. Your nipples strained against your shirt and bra, begging for his touch. He removed his fingers and put them in his mouth, sucking your slick off of them.

“You taste so sweet, little Omega,” he groaned, holding you against himself with one arm while he undid his pants with the other. “I bet you’ll taste even better when you’re in heat,” he growled into your ear. With one final button he tugged his pants down enough for his cock to spring free. You moaned at the sight, the thought of having him fuck you while you were in heat sent a new wave of heat straight to your core.

Suddenly, his attention snapped towards the door, a vicious snarl on his lips. The sound was enough to terrify you, even if it wasn’t directed at you. You’d heard the noise, too, but you were too enthralled by the Alpha in front of you to pay too much attention to it. You’d let the entire city watch if it meant you’d get this Alpha’s knot.

To your dismay he let you go and did his pants back up. Your hands ran up and down his arms, worried you’d done something wrong. “Alpha?” you asked tentatively. You didn’t want to make him angrier.

“Stay here,” he growled, turning back to give you a passionate kiss that stole your breath. He looked you up and down, as if memorizing every inch of you, before he stepped out of your embrace and through the doorway.

His orders were clear, so you stayed put, even when you heard glass break outside. Your Alpha was strong. He’d take care of whatever the noise was.

Your Alpha? You were shocked at how quickly you’d begun thinking of him that way. He wasn’t your Alpha yet. He hadn’t marked you. You rubbed your neck at the junction of your neck and shoulder where the mark would be located and sighed. Soon, you promised yourself. You’d finally have your mate. No more having to try and fill the void with betas. You’d finally have an alpha; an Alpha stronger than any others you’d found.

When you heard the telltale thud of a body hitting the floor you were scared. When he didn’t come back in the room you were terrified. Orders be damned. If your Alpha was in trouble you’d go and help him. You weren’t helpless.

You threw your pants on, ignoring your destroyed underwear nearby. You peeked carefully around the precariously hanging door into the waiting room and your eyes widened in shock. The room was empty and foreign smells lingered in the air. One of the thick glass panes of the building’s windows was destroyed and wind gusted in from the outside. Most worrying, though, was that your alpha was missing, as was whoever was just there. You couldn’t smell blood in the air, so whatever had happened hadn’t ended in bloodshed.

You searched for more clues, but couldn’t find anything. Eventually your receptionist, Lisa, returned, a SWAT team at her heels.

“Where is he?” one of the masked men asked, as the others fanned out, canvasing the area.

You stared at him for a moment. It was finally sinking in that he was gone, and you had no idea where. You didn’t even know his name.

“I… don’t know,” you said, sinking to the floor in despair.

 Years Later, Your POV

You threw another book onto your already impressive pile with a huff. You took a break to stretch, standing and lacing your fingers together as you extended your arms towards the ceiling. You were so close to a breakthrough.

You picked up the small bottle on your desk and stared at the small light green pills inside. They were your greatest creation to date; pills that lessened your heats to almost nothing. They made them bearable, allowing you to scrape by with one night stands with betas in lieu of an Alpha. You made and distributed them to any Omegas that happened the find their way to you, but most Omegas thought you a fool for not just finding an Alpha.

The problem was you had. You’d found the man you wanted to be your Alpha but he’d vanished, and any other after him just felt like a pale imitation. You’d searched for him for months after, but he was a ghost. The footage from your building had been scrubbed and you couldn’t very well go and google brown-haired blue-eyed Adonis badass Alpha. …Well, you could. In fact, you’d tried that after a few weeks of fruitless searching. It hadn’t helped.

Instead, you focused on protecting yourself and your sanity in his absence. He hadn’t marked you which made you a target for any alpha whose eye you caught. You kept yourself busy with your work: you were a bio engineer who specialized in revolutionary cybernetic tech that could be integrated with human physiology. During your free time you focused on improving the formula for your pills. Your unique background in bio engineering had made it possible to create them in the first place.

Today was the last day you’d be able to use your private library for a while. You had a job in New York for a week or so; a special case that you’d been paid handsomely for. Most of the thick leather bound books in your library were rare tomes on Alpha and Omega physiology. A lot of the information in them wasn’t public knowledge. Alphas and Omegas were so uncommon that some people didn’t even think you existed.

You put the bottle of pills back down on your desk and groaned.

“Time to finish packing,” you grumbled to yourself, resigned to the fact that you wouldn’t learn anything new today. You were just starting your heat and, as usual, your mind was a jumbled mess. Your new client demanded you go out as soon as you could, paying you a king’s ransom for a timely arrival. The private plane was set to pick you up in three hours at a small airport just outside the city.

You threw a few pieces of clothing into the suitcase, followed by a choice few books, then threw the bottle of pills into your purse. It took you an entire hour to find everything else you needed, and with the traffic that your phone told you had popped up suddenly, you knew you’d barely make it to the airport on time.

An hour and a half later you were boarding the small plane. You raised an eyebrow at the name on the outside.

 Stark Industries? As in Tony Stark the Iron Man, Tony Stark?

Once you were settled on board a woman who said she worked for the person who hired you handed you a tablet.

“It has all the information we have on your patient’s condition,” she explained as she turned it on. Holograms popped up, showing you 3D renderings of what you had to work with. It seemed like the prosthetic had been torn off just past the shoulder. They’d patched it closed, but whoever had made the original was beyond their reach so they’d found you, the leading expert on cutting edge prostheses.

You spent the entire flight studying and planning, using the high tech tablet to make blueprints. You were surprised when they said they’d provide you with Vibranium. You’d read about the stuff in your research before, but it was too expensive to warrant putting effort into incorporating it into your projects. You wanted your ideas to applicable to the general populace, and Vibranium was definitely beyond the average person’s financial reach. Still, you were excited for the chance to work with it.

By the time the plane landed you had several schematics and ideas ready. A large man met you at baggage claim and led you to a beautiful silver Porsche.

You gawked at it while he loaded your bag. He opened the door for you and you slid inside. You were well off, but never spent your money on anything so extravagant. Nearly all the money you made went back into your research.

“It’ll be about a half hour. I’m Happy, by the way. Happy Hogan,” the driver informed you, and you nodded.

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” you said, offering him a courteous smile. You decided to enjoy the sights while you had the chance. It seemed like you were headed north out of the city.

Like Happy promised, you arrived at your destination a half hour later.

“I’m working for the Avengers?” you asked, dumbfounded, as you stared at the large Avengers’ logo on the side of the building.

“Did the Stark plane not give it away?” he asked, grinning.

“Tony Stark isn’t the Avengers,” you argued, gawking open-mouthed at the compound as Happy drove further into the grounds.

“True, I suppose. But what use does Tony have for a bio engineer?” Happy asked, raising an eyebrow at you as he drove the Porsche into the underground garage.

“Well there was that thing with his heart and the metal bits a while ago,” you said, ogling the various vehicles in the garage. A person could sell half the things in there and live like a king for the rest of their life.

“You have a point,” he conceded. “But no, you’re not here for Tony,” Happy said, pulling into an empty parking spot. “Now, Friday will show you to your room. You’re welcome to start whenever you want tomorrow. It’s…” -he checked the watch on his wrist- “4:12 am and there’s a bed with your name on it,” he said, turning the car off.

“I’d actually like to get started as soon as possible, if that’s alright with my patient,” you said, all business as you gathered your things.

“Alright. Got that, Friday?” Happy asked, looking at his watch.

“Understood, Mr. Hogan,” came an accented AI voice from his watch.

“I’ll take your bag to your room and Friday’ll direct you to the lab,” Happy said, opening his door.

You were about to speak when it hit you. You wrenched your door open, nearly stumbling over yourself in your haste to get out of the car. You sniffed the air experimentally. No, your nose wasn’t fooling you. You threw your bag over your shoulder as you searched for the door into the compound. You spotted it and sprinted for it, running on pure instinct.

“You’re welcome,” Happy said grumpily behind you. You barely registered his voice as you yanked the door open and practically threw yourself through the doorway.

The smell washed over you, nearly overpowering you then and there. You focused your efforts, zeroing in on the freshest trail and followed your nose, weaving through the halls. You vaguely heard the AI chirping at you in its Irish brogue but you didn’t pay it any mind as you let your instincts take over. In the back of your mind you worried a little at how easily your Omega side was taking over, but that voice was quickly quashed. Slowly, the sleek, professional interior gave way to homey hallways. You thought you spotted a giant flat screen and a huge modern kitchen, but ignored them and any other living soul you came across.

You walked for a few minutes before your surroundings changed again. The rooms on either side appeared to be labs. You heard the AI chirping ahead of you. At this point, the scent you’d been following was strong enough to make you dizzy and you barely registered the doors a little ahead and to the right of you opening.

He stepped through the doorway and your eyes instantly met his. You both stood there, frozen, moment suspended in time as you both took each other in. You almost didn’t believe your eyes. If your other senses weren’t telling you that your eyes were telling the truth you would have thought him an illusion.

“Omega,” he whispered, half smile appearing on his lips. Only your enhanced hearing allowed you to pick up his voice. Just like that, the illusion of stillness was shattered and you launched yourself at him. He caught you with one arm and wrapped it around you and buried his face in your hair, peppering the top of your head with kisses. Your arms snaked around his waist and you planted kisses on his chest. He smelled even better than you remembered.

“You’re really here,” you mumbled into his chest, inhaling his scent deeply. The action sent a powerful ache to your core. Him being in your arms seemed to completely destroy the effects your pills usually had over your heat.

“What are you doing here, little Omega?” he murmured into your hair, trying his best to control his urges. You smelled divine. You were definitely in heat, but something was inhibiting the full effects.

You looked up, finally realizing what felt off. He was only holding you with one arm. You looked at what was left of his left arm and frowned, thoughtful. “You’re my patient,” you said, brows furrowed. Seeing your Alpha at anything but his best sent your Omega instincts into hyper drive. Your fingers trailed lightly over the metal stump that was currently covered by a tight form-fitting sleeve.

“You’re-” he began, and you nodded, not needing him to finish the question.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), bio-engineer and leading authority on technologically advanced prosthesis,” you said proudly.

His smile was blinding and you felt heat creep up your neck in embarrassment. “You’re amazing,” he said, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. You kissed back eagerly, savoring the way he tasted. He licked your bottom lip and you happily let him in. Your tongues tangled together before he truly claimed your lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth. You moaned into the kiss and he shuddered at the sound, pulling you close. He broke the kiss after a minute and you stared at each other, both panting.

His fingers came up and stroked a line up your neck, lingering at the spot a mark would normally be. “After all this time? Still no mark?” he whispered, admiring how you leaned into his touch.

“No. I want yours, Alpha. I’ve wanted your mark and yours alone since the day I met you,” you said, gazing into his eyes as you said the words.

He bit his lip, biting back a groan. “C’mere, Doll,” he said, taking your hand as he led you into the lab room he’d come from. “Black out the windows, Friday,” he told the AI. You placed your bag on the table by the door as you passed it.

“Yes, Sargent Barnes,” the AI responded. You glanced behind you in time to see the windows turn an opaque black. The door had barely shut behind you when he turned and stared at you seriously.

Something the AI said sparked something in the back of your mind.

“Barnes?”

He frowned, suddenly looking hesitant. “Yeah. My name’s James Buchanan Barnes. Most people call me Bucky. Most people nowadays know me as the Winter Soldier, though,” he said grimly. He didn’t want to lose you to his past, but he also wanted to tell you the truth. He needed you to accept him for who he was.

Your eyes widened in surprise and Bucky grit his teeth, ready for you to run screaming. To his surprise, you didn’t seem to be afraid; at least, he couldn’t smell it on you. You simply stared at him, studying his face closely.

“Last chance to back out, little Omega. Run away if you don’t want this… if you can,” he added wickedly, sending a shiver down your spine. You stood on your toes, kissing him from his neck to his jaw to, finally, his mouth.

“I want this, Alpha. Please,” you said, desperation creeping into your voice.

He groaned, arm going around to pull you flush against him. “Say it again,” he demanded, lips trailing kisses down your neck.

“I want you, Alpha. I want your mark and your knot,” you sighed, eyes closing in the ecstasy of him touching you.

He hummed his approval. “Such a good girl,” he cooed, yanking your shirt over your head. You returned the favor, peeling his shirt off of his muscled torso.

You threw it to the side and ran your hands over his well defined muscles. He planted kisses all over your shoulders and on your collar bone, but stiffened when he felt your fingers lightly trace over the scarring that ran along the metal fused to his shoulder.

He felt you shift in his arm and he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when you ghosted your lips over the taught, marred skin.

“Every inch of you is beautiful to me, Bucky,” you whispered, turning his head gently with your hand so you could look him in the eyes.

A shiver ran up his spine at the sound of his name on your lips and he groaned. “Little Omega, I hope you’re well rested because you’re not getting sleep any time soon,” he warned, eyes flashing dangerously.

You giggled and flashed him a filthy grin. “Promises, promises, Alpha,” you said devilishly.

His lips were back on yours in a flash and a practiced hand made quick work of the button and zipper on your pants which pooled at your feet a second later. You kissed back hungrily and quickly stepped out of them, kicking them out of the way as your fingers danced under the waistband of his sweats.

He growled against your lips at your teasing, tangled his fingers in the back of your underwear and tugged them up sharply. You let out a startled gasp; the mingled pain and pleasure on your sensitive core sent slick dripping down your thighs.

His message came in loud and clear: stop teasing. You obliged, tearing your lips from his to trail kisses and nibbles down his neck and chest. As you went you tugged down his pants, taking his boxers down with them. His cock sprung free swinging heavily between his legs and you nearly started salivating at the sight.

“Like what you see?” he purred as he gazed down at you, pupils blown wide with lust.

“Yes, Alpha,” you murmured as you stood. You reached between your heated bodies and wrapped your hand loosely around his length and stroked slowly. He groaned and, in a move that brought on a strong sense of deja vu, tore them clean away from your body. You yelped in surprise and your hands flew to his shoulders as he picked you up, supporting you with an arm around your waist as he lowered you gently onto your back on the ground. The cool marble floor against your burning skin made you shiver. He placed himself firmly between your legs, single arm keeping him from crashing down on top of you.

He kissed you passionately on the lips and you mewled into his mouth when he ground his hips against yours tantalizingly slowly, his hard cock rubbing against your clit. He trailed kisses down your body until he reached your breasts. He took a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. He sucked lewdly at it and ran his teeth lightly over it before taking the hard bud between his teeth. Your back arched with pleasure, fingers tangling into his hair. After a moment he switched to the other, giving it the same care and attention as the first.

You tried to hold back your moans, but a few whimpers were forced out of your lips at his ministrations. “Let me hear you, babydoll,” he ordered, moving backwards, kissing his way down your stomach as he went.

As it turned out, you didn’t need to think twice about following his command. In fact, you didn’t have the luxury of thinking at all. As soon as his tongue licked a thick stripe through your folds and swirled around your swollen clit you moaned loudly. Your fingernails scraped against his scalp as your fingers ran through his hair, earning a deep groan that you felt all the way in your core and you whimpered at the sound.

“So wet for me, Omega,” he hummed, before his tongue slid into your sopping hole, nose nudging your clit lightly as he swirled his tongue inside of you. You bucked your hips, unable to keep still against the pleasure he was giving you. His arm moved up to hold you in place and you threw your head back, moaning out your pleasure.

“Alpha, it feels so good, please don’t stop!” you begged, relishing the way his tongue sped up. He hummed against your skin, causing that coil in your stomach to wind even tighter. Your tugged gently at his hair, pulling a moan from his lips, and apparently he couldn’t take it anymore.

You whimpered at the loss of his mouth and tongue, but didn’t have time to dwell on it. He was kissing you an instant later, and you moaned into the kiss as his tongue invaded your mouth, the taste of yourself on his lips. He ground his hips against yours, his cock sliding through your wet folds.

“Need you, Alpha,” you murmured, reaching down to line his cock up with your entrance.

“I know, Omega,” he whispered, claiming your lips once again as he slowly entered you. He slid inside of you easily, your dripping wet cunt making it easy.

A second later he bottomed out inside of you, hips flush with yours. His tip nudged at your cervix, the mingled pain and pleasure sending a new wave of arousal through your system. Your walls clenched around him and he groaned. It was obvious it took everything he had to keep from pounding into you wildly right then and there.

His gaze locked with yours; you helped ground him. Once you were sure you’d adjusted to his size you brought his lips to yours and kissed him deeply. “Please, Alpha. Fuck me. I need your knot,” you begged.

Like that, the control he had crumbled and he dragged his hips back slowly before snapping back into you again. He set a fast pace, hips pounding yours into the floor with every thrust. You let out a strangled cry of pleasure. Being filled by your Alpha was everything you wanted it to be and more. You felt so full and… complete with him in you like this. Every thrust from him earned a moan from your lips, which he greedily swallowed with passionate, heated kisses. Every second he was inside of you sent you closer to your release. He soothed the ache and cramps of your heat in a way only an Alpha could.

“A-alpha, I’m going to-” you moaned, eyes locked onto his.

“Come for me, Omega,” he ordered, kissing along your jaw and neck, lingering over the spot on your neck a mark would be. The sensations he was causing and the thought of him marking you sent you over the edge for the first time, screaming his name as that coil in your belly finally snapped. The pleasure of your orgasm licked its way through your body like flames and your walls spasmed around Bucky’s cock, earning deep moans from him. He fucked you relentlessly through it. Every time you started to come down another thrust would continue the pleasure. Eventually, though, you came down and there was only one thing you wanted then.

“Need your knot, Alpha,” you begged, raking your fingernails down his back. He moaned, hips momentarily stuttering before he pulled out. You didn’t have time to bemoan his absence. He sat up, leaning his back against one of the lab stations, and pulled you onto his lap.

He guided you above his cock with his hand, staring deeply into your eyes. His irises were barely visible rings around his pupils. “Make your Alpha feel good, Omega, and you’ll get what you want,” he purred, order clear under the seductive tone he used.

You nodded eagerly, sinking down onto his throbbing cock without a second thought. You writhed in pleasure at the feeling of him filling you up completely, but your idleness earned you a swift slap on the ass. “Move, baby. I want to fill you up,” he growled, hand grabbing your hip with a nearly bruising force.

You didn’t have to be told twice, raising your hips again and again, each time moving so far up he threatened to come out of you before you slammed them back down onto him, all the way to the hilt. His hand helped you move but once he realized you didn’t need the help it moved to your breasts, toying with and pinching your nipples.

You soon felt the tight coil forming in your lower stomach again. As if his body could sense it, he began to snap his hips up to meet you. You placed your hands on his shoulders, using the leverage to keep your pace even as your hips began to move sloppily as your second orgasm approached.

“Omega, baby, I’m getting close,” he warned. You already knew, though. You could feel his knot beginning to swell at the base of his cock. It was starting to catch inside of you with each thrust.

“Me too, Alpha,” you murmured, breathless. He leaned forward slightly, causing your clit to rub against his stomach as you moved and suddenly you were coming undone all over again.

Your walls fluttered around him, and he made up for your erratic pace by thrusting up into you. Your orgasm sent him over the edge and, a few thrusts later, his knot locked inside of you. If the feeling of his knot filling you up with his hot seed wasn’t enough to keep your orgasm going, him breaking the skin of your neck with his teeth as he bit into the mark spot definitely was. You let out a blissed-out sigh, completely content as he buried his face in your neck, deeply inhaling your scent.

“Omega mine,” he murmured, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you flush against his chest.

“My Alpha,” you agreed, nuzzling his neck, panting slightly from all the work the both of you had just done. He placed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, earning a contented hum from your lips.

You wrapped your arms around him and murmured, “That really just happened, didn’t it?”

“Havin’ seconds thoughts?” he asked teasingly, but you knew there was a real fear behind it.

“Never,” you said, looking up at his steel blue eyes, smile on your face. “I’ve been waiting years for this,” you whispered, brushing a lock of dark brown hair out of his face.

He beamed down at you and leaned down to give you a surprisingly chaste kiss considering his cock was locked inside of you at that moment. “Me too, Doll,” he said, stroking your cheek gently with the back of his knuckles. “Sorry that this isn’t exactly the ideal place to have done this,” he said mischievously, motioning to the lab around them.

You chuckled, resting your head on his shoulder. “I don’t mind so much, but a bed might be nice next time,” you joked, rubbing small circles into his lower back with your thumbs.

“Deal,” he agreed, smiling down at you.

You two sat like that for a few minutes, with him rubbing your back gently with his hand before he spoke up again. “Is there any chance that…?”

“Hmm?” you asked, looking up at him, content smile still on your face. It slipped slightly at the expression he was wearing. “What is it, Alpha?” You could tell something was bothering him, but you couldn’t tell what.

He seemed to think about his question for a minute before he blurted out “Are you on birth control?”

“Not the traditional kind, no. But I’m on heat-blocking pills right now,” you said sheepishly.

“That would explain why your scent is a little off,” he said, running his fingers through your hair.

“My scent is off? How so?” you asked, tilting your head in curiosity. You didn’t get feedback from Alphas often, much less Alphas who’d smelled you before.

“Your scent is muted. I can tell you’re in heat and you still smell like you, but… I should have gone crazy from being in the same room as you, but I was able to keep it together,” he whispered, planting a tender kiss to your forehead.

You chuckled at that. “The second I smelled you it was like I hadn’t even taken the pills. At least, that’s what it felt like to me,” you said, leaning your forehead against his. “So thanks for that,” you teased.

He smiled cockily, but he quickly sobered, gaze a million miles away.

“What are you thinking, baby?” you asked, running a thumb gently over his stubble.

“What do I smell like to you?” he asked, gaze focusing back in on you.

Your heart beat faster in your chest. “You smell it too, don’t you?” you asked, barely daring to hope.

A wide smile broke out on his face. “I always thought-”

“-they were myths,” you finished, identical smile lighting up your face. “And to answer your question, when I first met you, it was a rainy forest and gunpowder. The rainy forest is the same, but now it’s accompanied by…” you paused, inhaling his scent, which sent a thrill down your spine. “I think it’s… plum?” you asked, curious smile sneaking its way onto your face.

His eyes darkened a little at the mention of the first time you met him, but it was gone again by the time you’d finished speaking. “You smell like Vanilla and Wildflowers. That hasn’t changed,” he murmured, placing a kiss on your temple.

You grinned like a fool. True Mates were… well, a fairy tale. Something Alpha and Omega parents told their kids as a bedtime story. Their people’s version of soul mates. It was always said you could pick out your true mate’s unique smell, while everyone else was a general jumbled, uninteresting mix of Alpha, Beta, or Omega.

You didn’t realize how tired you were, but Bucky must have sensed it, because he grabbed the jacket he’d brought with him (which had been unceremoniously knocked onto the floor during your escapade) and draped it over your shoulders. You fell asleep, head on his chest, to the steady sound of his breathing and unwavering beating of his heart.

You were awoken a short time later with gentle kisses to your neck and your name murmured like a prayer from his lips.

“C’mon, Doll, we should move,” he whispered, gently coaxing you from the realm of dreams.

You blinked blearily up at him, smile on your lips. “You only want to move because your ass fell asleep,” you joked, kissing him lazily on the lips.

He smiled into the kiss, his chuckle a deep rumble in his chest. “Well that is definitely part of it,” he conceded. “But it’s mostly because we’ll have an audience soon if we don’t,” he teased, motioning to a clock on the wall with his head.

6 am. Yup, people would be up and about soon if they weren’t already. It seemed like he’d carefully pulled out of you while you were asleep so you stood without having to worry, picking up your clothes and yanking them on (though you were considerably slowed by Bucky’s constantly wandering hands). You gave your underwear a sad look before throwing them into your purse (wouldn’t want to leave them and scar a poor lab tech for life).

When you were ready and both of you were modest, he took your hand in his, leading you out of the lab. You grabbed your bag on the way out, knowing you’d need it sooner rather than later.

He weaved his way through the halls with practiced ease. You tried to make a mental map but after the eighth turn you’d given up. A few minutes later he reached his room and opened the door with a fingerprint scan.

His room was sparsely furnished. It had the basics; a bathroom, bed, desk, chair, wardrobe, closet, dresser. But it didn’t have much in the way of personal effects. You spotted a few drawings pinned up on the wall above his desk, but a quick peek at them revealed the artist to be none other than Steve Rogers. A few pictures that looked to be a hundred years old pictured a younger, smiling Bucky.

“Omega,” he murmured. You tore your gaze away from the desk guiltily, but he only smiled at you.

“That’s my family. And drawings from Steve,” he said, obviously aware of the questions you didn’t want to ask.

You squeezed his hand and gave him a small smile, not knowing exactly what to say. Instead, you talked about something you knew.

“I, uh, have some plans for your new arm,” you said hesitantly. “But your input would be fantastic.”

He smiled at your shyness. “Alright, c’mere,” he said, pulling you onto his bed. You snuggled up against his side as you pulled the tablet computer out of your purse and turned it on.

“So, about the old design. I think that is can be improved upon by-” you began, pulling up the schematics. You paused when you saw him expression and felt your cheeks heat under the intensity of his gaze. “What?” you asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“You’re absolutely stunning is all, Doll,” he said, throwing his arm around you to pull you closer to his side. You smiled happily and continued your explanation of your ideas.

By the time you had a model that both Bucky and yourself were happy with, two days had passed. During that time you’d had sex on multiple occasions, continuing to talk about arm schematics in lieu of pillow talk. Happy had come by after he’d been informed by FRIDAY where you’d gone and graciously brought you your luggage when you told him you’d be staying in Bucky’s room during your stay at the compound (though he had threatened to tell Tony about that particular arrangement).

Apparently Steve had gotten that specific memo, too, because he showed up later that day, pounding on the door.

“Bucky, what on earth are you thinking?” he demanded.

Bucky went rigid next to you. If he had hackles you knew they’d be raised. A second later you realized why.

Steve was an Alpha, too.

But that didn’t make any sense. Alphas almost never got along. To stay friends for as long as Steve and Bucky had was unheard of.

“Go away Steve,” Bucky growled, warning clear in his voice.

“Buck, I can smell her. I know you marked her. Just what in the hell-”

Steve’s tirade was interrupted by Bucky yanking the door open, looking like murder.

You shrunk back in the bed, hiding from the wrath of your Alpha, even if it wasn’t directed at you.

“You shouldn’t be here right now and you know it, Steve. She’s in heat and-”

“I’m aware, Bucky! That’s why I’m here! How could you just go and mark your-”

“True Mate,“ Bucky said forcefully.

Whatever Steve had been expecting, it wasn’t that. “What?” he asked dumbly, looking at Bucky in confusion. “Bucky, that’s just some fairy tale-”

“No, it’s not. She’s my true mate,” he said stubbornly.

Steve sighed and tried to glimpse you around Bucky’s form, but Bucky firmly pushed him back a foot or two. “Mine,” he growled.

Steve groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m coming back as soon as her heat is over and we’re talking about this,” Steve warned, throwing one last concerned glance at the room before he walked, mumbling something ironic about unreasonable Alphas.

Bucky shut the door a little too forcefully, making you jump at the sound. He gave you an apologetic look and quickly took his place back beside you, soothing your frayed nerves by touch alone.

“I had no idea Steve was an Alpha, too,” you mumbled.

“Really? How could you not smell him?” Bucky asked. “He’s lived here even longer than I have.”

“I only smelled you when I got here,” you said sheepishly. He merely smiled at that, brought your hand to his lips, and placed a feather-light kiss to your knuckles.

“The True Mate thing is gonna be a hard sell,” you told him, smile on your lips.

“Don’t care. He’ll come around eventually once he sees us together,” Bucky said, rolling onto his back. You admired once again how big he was.

“I have to start constructing the arm tomorrow. Will you be keeping me company in the lab?” you asked, unable to keep the eagerness out of your voice.

“Of course, Doll,” he said, pulling you down so you were laying next to him, head on his chest. “But first, sleep.”

“On that, Sargent Barnes, we can agree,” you said, giving him a gentle goodnight kiss before you tucked yourself up against him. His arm wrapped around your waist, insuring you wouldn’t move away from him while you slept.

You loved this side of Bucky.

Three days later, your heat was over and Bucky’s new arm was mostly built. He let Steve talk to you, which was nice. The tension between them was higher than it had likely ever been, but the mark on your neck seemed to ease Bucky’s nerves every time he saw it.

You talked about your lives while you worked on removing the remnants of the old tech from his shoulder. Some of it would have to stay, but a majority would just get in the way of the new one; it was outdated, anyway.

You wished people saw him for who he really was, not the weapon Hydra made him. Bucky Barnes had a heart of gold. Not to mention he was smart and funny to boot. According to various Avengers you met over your time there, in the few days since you’d arrived he’d been smiling more than they’d seen in the years they’d known him. You’d been embarrassed but proud over that fact (Bucky had been just plain embarrassed, turning a lovely shade of red each time someone made a comment about it… except when Sam said so; he had to dodge a punch and a wrench).

You loved this side of Bucky, too.

A week and a half after you’d first arrived, Bucky’s new arm was attached and fully functional. You still had tests to run, but it seemed to be working perfectly. Bucky was admiring it in the mirror. You saw him run his flesh fingers over where the red star had been on his old arm and you saw his eyes swim with unshed tears. You stood and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. You held him as his shoulders shook with silent sobs. You felt tears drip onto your hands but you held him like that until he finally turned and held you in his arms.

You loved this side of Bucky, too, even if it would probably take a while for him to believe it.

Two days later, you’d run all of the tests you possibly could. Bucky’s new arm worked perfectly and he’d seamlessly transitioned into the new prosthetic.

He made you sleep on his right side, though. He didn’t want to hurt you if the nightmares came.

You’d already gotten used to the occasional nightmares that plagued him. Every time they happened you woke him gently, calming him down with your pheromones and words. He’d clutch you tightly to his chest as though you were the only thing keeping him grounded and you’d talk to him, reassure him, until he calmed down.

He always apologized for these episodes but you told him not to worry. You liked being able to help him through them.

You loved this part of Bucky, too.

In fact, a few months after you’d first arrived at the compound, you told him as much. It was after a particularly bad episode that had left him frozen in the bed you shared.

“I love you, baby. You’re safe. Please come back to me,” you murmured, running your fingers through his hair. He seemed to resurface from his mind at your words, eyes filling with life again as his gaze met yours.

“What did you say?” he whispered, voice failing him.

“I love you, Bucky,” you said, smiling at him.

He scooped you up into his arms suddenly and practically vaulted off the bed. He leaned down and kissed you deeply as he walked towards the bathroom.

“I love you too, (Y/N),” he said, smitten.

You giggled, smiling happily. “Babe, why are you carrying me to the bathroom?” you asked curiously.

“(Y/N), I wanna try for pups,” he said seriously, staring down at you.

You were shocked. You’d brought it up before but he’d been evasive and reluctantly explained how he didn’t have the confidence in his ability to be able to care for children. He didn’t think he deserved something as good as a family and doubted he even had the ability, considering his past; being frozen and unfrozen and experimented on couldn’t have helped anything.

“I do, too, Bucky,” you said, throwing your arms around his neck. His deep chuckle rumbled through his chest and you relished the sound. “But, Buck, I’m not in heat…” you said, leaning back to raise an eyebrow at him in confusion.

“I know. But I’m sweaty from my nightmares and need a shower… and we need to practice. So, I’m multitasking,” he said, winking lasciviously at you.

You laughed at his antics, leaning up to kiss him as he turned the water on. “Lots of practice?” you asked salaciously.

“Lots,” he agreed, smirking.

Yes, you loved every side of your Alpha.

And he loved you, too.

[tarithenurse]

God of Sarcasm - Challenge

Pairing: Loki x reader Content: Cussing, negative criticism/demeaning, violence/fighting, death, fluff. Maybe some innuendos and hinting towards sex but nothing explicit. A/N: I’m rolling around in wonderful challenges and this is a one-shot to a brilliant challenge by @serpienten​. Due March, sure, but I once I got the idea (based on a dialogue prompt which is highlighted in the text) I just had to write.​

The blue sparkles flare from your fingertips to condense into a blossom. So pretty. The light flickers as soon as your mind gets distracted by the appearance of the magic. Desperately summoning the Focus within, you try to re-establish the flow and sustain the illusion, but in your rush, you cause the blossom to flare up in an explosion that sends you hurling backwards into the mound of pillows strewn about for just this reason.

“Tsk,” the cold voice utters beyond your closed eyes.

Gods, you hate that sound. Day in and day out you have been training under the condescending yet watchful eyes of Loki at this cottage far from anyone and anything. Ever since your parents realized your skills, they have pestered the Avengers to take you in, train you. Well, Superheroes are busy. Rather than have Wanda or Doctor Strange become your mentor, you are stuck with a pompous bastard on parole.

“Get up!”

At least he can’t see your eyes roll behind the lids, but you know delaying the inevitable will only make him worse to be around, so you get onto your feet. How much longer today? It feels like you have been stuck in the barren room for ages…unfortunately the clock on the wall claims it’s only been a few hours.

“I expect more of you,” Loki sneers, “a simple Illusion yet you manage to mess it up? At this rate you will never even master Projection!”

You bite your tongue, not wanting to say anything he could take the wrong way. Sure, the others claim that he is good now…better safe than sorry, though.

Okay, calm down. A slow inhalation to fill your lungs before exhaling through your mouth in a carefully controlled pace which you follow with your arm as you stretch it in front of you with a bent wrist, fingers delicately pointing to the floor. Flower from earth. As if stirring slowly, you imagine holding a seed between you fingers to soak up the energy around it needed to grow (here, you flip you palm up to present the still invisible seed). Grow and glow. The words aren’t an incantation but simply a way to remember the movements, and again you feel the tingle of magic connect each outstretched finger and condense into the flower from your dreams. You do not dare to look at the result.

“Finally. Keep holding it,” Loki hisses.

You can hear your own breathing and the soft whistling from the air conditioning. There’s no hint of what the greasy-haired maniac is doing. Probably about to scare the shit out of me. You have half a mind to drop the magic and look for him…problem is it would make him insult you for the millionth time and you really aren’t sure how much more of it you can take. The only option is to keep calm and allow the Focus to survive anything Loki will throw at you.

Despite stalwart resolution, the Illusion falters and fades when the building shakes from an explosion and something heavy barrels into you. You try to get your bearings amidst scattered pillows, dust, and the green cape Loki insists on wearing. The Asgardian has thrown himself at you to shield you from the blast without a care for the shrapnel.

“Why did you do that?!” Your voice is shrill with anger and shock. “There’s a billion ways to test my Focus but tha-?!”

A cold hand clamps your mouth shut. Green eyes with a hint of red give you a onceover before scanning the surroundings. “This was not my doing, pet.”

You nod demurely. “Mm.” Wait, pet??

“Now be quiet.”

It’s not like you have much of a choice with his hand still covering almost half your face. That’s when you realize just how the two of your are positioned, chest to chest as he sort of straddles you, but because he still has worried about covering your legs…well, pelvis to pelvis is also a way to get to know someone.

You don’t have time to worry about it, though. A creaking, groaning noise of tree splintering makes both of you look up to see the ceiling caving in. Without thinking, you grab hold of Loki in the hopes of rolling both of you out of the way. With a crash a mass of debris and limbs lands where you just were, and the god is off of you with his daggers magically appearing together with his full armour.

He deflects the spear flung from the dust cloud, returning the greeting with a steely weapon of his own. You see what he does next only because he has shown you each part of the gesture that calls forth a host of clones of him and you perched on any surface of the place. Why not just…lock them up with magic? In the heat of the moment your brain forgets what class of magic Loki excels at until the laughter of the intruder makes your skin crawl.

“Trickery won’t help you, snake,” the voice cackles, “I see through your lights and smokescreens.”

You can make out the shape of a man most pro wrestlers would be envious of.

“Then make a move,” all the Loki’s in the room cajole.

The ground shudders by the weight as the enemy leaps into action, lunging to the left at the last moment. Steel meets steel, proving that he faultlessly has picked out the real Asgardian even though you were fooled (which in reality isn’t unheard of because the asshole loves to mock your lack of skills by showing off).

The man is partially naked, the broad chest exposed to display a blond patch of hair and a few scars from injuries that with any fairness should have killed him. His trousers are not unlike those harem pants that were all the rage (again) a few summers back but tied together around the calves before disappearing in a pair of heavy boots. Whoever this guy is, he has faith in his own abilities. Regardless, the attack is a glancing blow, allowing Loki to slip sideways in an attempt to skirt the attacker.

“Impressive.” Of course Loki still sounds mocking but he drops half of the Illusion, leaving only the copies of you milling around.

You get the hint. Leaping into action, you mimic the imagined crowd in the hopes of being harder to target.

Too bad it doesn’t work.

As if in slow motion, the attacker grabs the horn on Loki’s helmet, yanking it harshly backwards and causing the normally slippery guy to go flying into a wall that absolutely isn’t an Illusion. Meanwhile the intruder has continued the spin to his advantage – using the momentum he hurls the spear towards you. It’s only a perfectly aimed knife that saves you even if the larger weapon skewers your sweater and pins you to the floor. Heart frozen in your throat, but speed back to normal, you try to get free by yanking at the oversized “nail” with sweaty hands. No good.

The men are in each others’ faces again, both formidable fighters using the surroundings to their advantages. Still, it’s an unbalanced match because the slimmer of them keeps trying to draw the opponent away from you, forcing the enemy to have his back towards you. The enemy has no one to protect. His jabs and sweeps are methodical, each step countering the effort Loki makes to keep you out of the danger zone.

He can’t keep going like that! Bitter realization sears your stomach.

Wiggling and twisting, you crawl out of the sweater and onto the knees where instinct takes over and brandishes your hands in a flurry of weaving movements. Blue sparks shoot from the fingers, forming a rope as they speed towards the unidentified enemy and snake around his wrists. You feel the pull from him through the conjured restraint and have to use physical strength to hold him back.

Focus! Squeezing your eyes shut, you fight to follow all the instructions Loki has been drilling you with. There’s a grunt of surprise.

Must…use my…Focus! But the magic breaks, leaving you tumbling backwards once more.

“No!” Shooting back up, your breath stops at the sight of the two men apparently embracing each other. “No…no…”

Only a fool would think they actually are hugging. Did he…? If the attacker has managed to kill Loki, then you are done for too, and your heart screams with a million fears as the naked arms let go of the smaller man. Crap. But the man goes limp, sliding to his knee with the groan of the dying. Loki, now visible, pulls out a blade from between the ribs.

“A Conjuration…” Unreadable eyes study your face and hands before returning to the situation before him. “I’m impressed.”

As if. Turning to find an intact pillow, you feel the bitterness well up. Loki doesn’t give compliments. Loki doesn’t praise efforts, only perfection, and the attempt to bind the attacker had not lasted.

Yeah, well…I’m proud. “Even though that’s dripping with sarcasm, and definitely isn’t genuine, I’m gonna take it.”

“[Y/N]…I push you because I know what your potential is, and I have faith in you.” Somehow, he’s come to stand right in front of you, hands clasping your shoulders gently. “I mean it. You are amazing and it’s because of your magic that I could strike him down.” Oh. “Thank you, my dear.”

First pet and now dear? And he…?

Nothing makes sense, least of all when the Asgardian tilts your face up by your chin and kisses you hesitantly. No logic. Only a warm tingle, but this time it’s in your chest and has nothing to do with magic and you find yourself giving in to it.

[vfdbaudelairefile13]

  Chapter Forty-Two:

The One Where the Baudelaires are Put to Work

 

That day, Violet Snicket was relieved that her father had finally arrived home, although, she didn’t say much to him. She was afraid if she started a conversation with him she would start asking about VFD and his involvement. She would ask him a million questions and expect answers to each one. But she couldn’t, not yet at least, she needed to compile every scrap of evidence she could before she questioned him. Why? Because she feared that after she interrogates him, he will make learning VFD information a lot harder than it already is. She wasn’t going to let that happen.

Violet sat across from her father as they both silently ate. You could cut the tension between the two of them with a knife. 

“You okay, sweetie?” Lemony asked after a while of the awkward tension. 

“Hmm mmm,” Violet said not really saying anything to her father.

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah. Just glad you’re home.” Violet muttered rolling her eyes. “Finally,”

“Honey…” Lemony began.

“I know, you’re just doing your job. Putting food on the table.” 

Lemony frowned. He didn’t know what was wrong with his daughter and why she was so moody. Violet didn’t look up at him, afraid that she’d crack under pressure. Neither of them said anything for another couple moments of pure tense silence.

“So have you found her?” Violet asked.

“Huh?”

“My mother? Have you found her yet? Are you even close? Have you even bothered since the last time I asked?” She asked impatiently.

Lemony was taken aback by his daughter’s tone, he sighed and nodded his head in response.

“Really?” She asked not believing a word he was saying. “Can you explain what you’ve learned?”

“Violet…”

“Well…?”

He sighed again. “I rather not get your hopes up,”

“Of course not. Makes sense,” Violet replied in the same impatient tone as before. She absolutely hated how he had a lie ready at his disposal. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yep. Definitely.” 

He frowned. He knew this was a lie. He knew his daughter more than she would like to admit. That’s what happens when you’ve lived with just one other person for their entire life. He didn’t understand why she was in a mood though. Was it because she desperately wanted to learn about her birth mother or was it because he was absent more often these days. His stay at Lake Lachrymose had gone on longer than he had anticipated at first. But what could he have done? He had to help the Baudelaires. Maybe he should’ve called her and allowed her to know that he was fine. 

He opened his mouth to say something but as he did, the phone rang. Both Snickets looked at the phone. Lemony stood up before Violet had a chance to. “I got it,” he said as she rolled her eyes. He took the phone and went into the other room.

“Yes, Jacquelyn.” He answered knowing damn well who was on the other end of the phone call.

“Now, how’d you know it was me?” 

“You’re the only person who calls,” 

“Damn. That’s truly sad, Snicket. You should get out more.”

“Ha. Funny,” Lemony replied in a sarcastic tone as he rolled his eyes. “So...let me guess Olaf is after the kids again.”

“When isn’t he?” 

“Good point,” Lemony muttered. “What do we know about his plan this time?”

“Nothing. We just know he has found them,” 

“How the fuck is he getting this information before me?”

“Honestly, that’s something I’d like to know,” Jacquelyn replied annoyed. “I mean I work for the man who takes them to their guardians and he somehow knows before me…”

“You don’t think Poe works for him, do you?”

“No...no...the man is incompetent but definitely not evil.”

“Now are you sure?” Lemony asked.

“Yes. It would take a functioning brain to pull that off,” Jacquelyn pointed out laughing.

“Okay. Good point.” Lemony said convinced. “So where are they now?”

“Paltryville,”

“Of course…” 

“Why do you say it like that?” Jacquelyn asked concerned.

“...I’m not welcomed in Paltryville...for several reasons. One is that they think I helped start a certain fire,” 

“Ah. Should I send myself or Larry.” 

“No!” Lemony cried panicked. “No offense, but the last time that I allowed you to send yourself to the Baudelaires’ location, Dr. Montgomery died. And the last time Larry beat me to their location, he was kidnapped by Olaf and he could’ve been killed.”

“Are you going to keep using Dr. Montgomery’s death against me?” 

“Yes. Until you can explain to me why disguising yourself as a fucking statue was a good idea I am going to use that against you.”

“Suit yourself, Snicket,” Jacquelyn said. “You’ll need to get on the next train to Paltryville.”

Lemony looked to Violet who wasn’t paying attention. “Ummm…” he said. “I’m gonna need a day or two,” 

“What?” 

“I have an a...prior commitment. I have to...ummmm...research something. Shouldn’t take me long,”

“But the Baudelaires…”

“They’re resourceful kids,” Lemony said immediately. “They can survive a day or two without me.”

“If you’re sure, Snicket,” Jacquelyn said after sighing. “Just let me know if you want me to go for you...cause I can.”

“Again...no. Stop suggesting that,” Lemony said chuckling a bit. “Just keep me updated if you can. Surely there’s a VFD agent in Paltryville that can give us information.”

“Doubtful,” 

“Just give me a day or so,” Lemony said as Jacquelyn bid him goodbye.

Lemony walked back over to Violet. “You know what, I’m sorry. You’re right,” 

“What?” she asked confused.

“I haven’t made looking for your mother a priority in the last couple of weeks. That’s going to change.” He said as he watched her eyes light up. “I am going to find her, Violet. I promise.” He said.

As he watched a smile appear upon his daughter’s face, he could feel a ping of guilt in his heart. He knew that eventually, he would have to explain to Violet what had happened to her mother. When he told her that he was going to find her, what he meant was that he was going to figure out who stole Beatrice from Violet forever. He didn’t want to drop this piece of information on his daughter without closure. He didn’t want her to wonder who would kill her mother. He wanted to be able to have all the answers to every question she would have about her mother’s death. So he had decided to take the next day to focus on figuring out the exact cause of the Baudelaire fire. 

_____________________________________________________________________

Morning is an important time of day because how you begin your morning can often tell you what kind of day you’re going to have. If you wake up to a breakfast made by your father, your day will probably be decent. If you wake up in a mansion to a butler serving you blueberry pancakes and freshly squeezed orange juice, your day will probably be wonderful. Now if you wake up in a lumber mill to the sound of metal pots banging together, you know your day will be horrid.

You and I, of course, cannot be too surprised that the Baudelaire orphans’ first day at the Lucky Smells Lumbermill was a horrid one. The Baudelaire orphans did not expect a nice, hot breakfast or a butler, especially after their dismaying arrival. But never in their most uneasy dreams did they expect the cacophony that awoke them.

“Get up, lumber workers! This is your new foreman, and you’ve got a new shipment of logs to turn into flat wooden boards!” A rough voice yelled over the loudspeakers. 

“What’s that horrible noise?’ Klaus asked groggily. 

“Tympana,” Sunny muttered, which meant, “It sounds like someone banging metal pots together…” 

“Get up, you lazy, smell things!” the foreman’s voice yelled. “Time for work, everybody!”

The children sat up and rubbed their eyes. All around them, the employees of the Lucky Smells Lumbermill were stretching and covering their ears at the sound of the pots. Phil, who was already up and making his bunk neatly, gave the Baudelaires a tired smile. 

“I believe everyone has a good side. But I have to admit, our last foreman was a lot nicer,” Phil commented to the children.

“What happened to your last foreman?” Klaus asked wearily. 

“Must’ve quit in the middle of the night,” Phil said cheerfully. “It happens a lot around here,” 

Klaus and Sunny looked at one another uneasily. 

“Hurry up! It’s log day!” the foreman’s voice yelled.

“I hate log days,” a mill worker muttered.

As the children followed Phil and the other workers across the dirt-floored courtyard to the lumber mill, which was a dull gray building with many smokestacks sticking out of the top. The two children looked at one another nervously. Except for one summer day, back when their parents were alive, when the Baudelaire siblings had opened a small lemonade stand in front of their house, the orphans had never had jobs, and they were quite nervous. 

The Baudelaires walked closely next to Phil into the lumbermill and saw that it was all one huge room, filled with enormous machines. Klaus looked at a shiny steel machine with a pair of steel pinchers like the arms of a crab and hoped that he wouldn’t be asked to handle it. Sunny examined a machine that looked like a big cage, with an enormous ball of string trapped inside, and tried to think of what a machine like that could be used for. Both children stared a  rusty, creaky-looking machine that had a circular saw-blade that looked quite jagged and fearsome. Sunny wondered if the saw was sharper than her teeth, while Klaus anxiously tried to remember anything and everything he had read about lumber mills. 

All the while, the noise from all of the machines were starting to disturb Klaus. Klaus began to whimper a little as he put his hands over his ears and winced in pain. “It’s too loud in here,” he said to Sunny as Sunny nodded her head at her brother. 

“Now grab a debarker and start debarking!” the foreman yelled from his booth. The foreman wore a gas mask that completely covered his face, which seemed odd to the children. He also wore a stained uniform that completely covered his arms and legs, Klaus suspected it was to cover up a certain tattoo. Sunny noticed that his shoes had been taped shut instead of being tied, which seemed rather unusual for anyone to do. The foreman turned his head towards the children. “You too, lumber midgets!” 

“We’re not midgets...we’re children,” Klaus replied as he stood in line with Sunny to get a debarker.

“Children, midgets, do I care?” The foreman said in a muffled voice. 

“Oh, I love log days!” Phil exclaimed.

Klaus took a debarker from the dispenser and looked down at it. “I don’t think this is safe for even me to be handling,” he said cautiously to Sunny.

“Bite!” she exclaimed, which probably meant, “That’s okay. I don’t need one. I’ll just bite the logs.” 

As the children followed the other workers around one of the trees, Phil showed Klaus how to use his debarker. He began scraping it against the tree, filing the bark off like you would file your nail. Klaus nodded and tried to imitate Phil’s actions. 

Even though Phil had described the rigors of working at the mill, it had certainly sounded difficult. But seeing that he was an optimist, he still sugar-coated just how difficult the job would be, so the actual work turned out to be much, much worse. For one thing, the debarkers were adult-sized and it was difficult for Klaus to use it. He could scarcely lift it and even when he could lift up to the tree, he had to push with all his might to get it to file the bark from the log and even then only tiny pieces of bark would fall from the tree. He was in a mixture of jealousy and amazement as Sunny climbed atop the log and began to saw away at the bark with her teeth. She made it look so easy.  

To the Baudelaires’ misfortune, once a tree was finally cleared of bark, there would be another tree waiting for them. Which meant they would have to start this process over and over again. But if you asked the Baudelaires what was the worst thing about working at the lumber mill would be the deafening noise. Since Klaus had to use two hands to move his debarker against the wood, he had absolutely no way of blocking all the terrible noises from his eardrums. So the entire time he felt overstimulated and he continued to wince in discomfort. He longed for a break so he can go outside and maybe get a few minutes of peace and quiet. Finally, as the children finished their third log (noticing that all the other groups of workers were at least on their fourteenth log), the foreman began shouting over the loudspeaker. “Lunch break! Lumber slowpokes!” 

Klaus grabbed his baby sister and sat down where the rest of the workers were sitting. He started picking pieces of wood out of his sister’s hair noticing that she was completely covered in sawdust. He could only imagine how terrible he looked as he began to ruffle his hair in hope of getting all the sawdust out.“I hate log days,” Klaus muttered to Sunny as one of the mill workers replied, “Told ya!” 

“Otii!” Sunny replied, which meant, “We finally get a break.”

“Lunch break! Five minutes!” the foreman yelled as he threw two pink squares at the children. Klaus somehow caught it and looked down at the small pink square that was in his hands.

“It’s gum...this is gum!” he shouted not believing his eyes. “Gum isn’t lunch! Gum isn’t even a snack!” 

“Tanco!” Sunny yelled in agreement, which meant, “And babies shouldn’t even have gum, because they could choke on it!” Klaus was quick to translate.

“You’d better eat your gum,” Phil said, moving over to sit next to the two children. “It’s not very filling, but it’s the only thing they’ll let you eat until dinnertime.” 

“Can’t we use our wages to buy some sandwiches?” Klaus asked still staring at the two pink squares in his hands.

Phil began to chuckle a bit. “Kiddo, we’re not paid in wages. We’re paid in coupons.”

“I got one for 20% off a shampoo at Ed’s Haircut Palace,” one mill worker replied.

“I got a free refill of iced tea,” another replied.

“I got ‘Buy two banjos, get one free’. Of course, I can’t buy any banjos ‘cause I don’t have any money. Just coupons.” a third mentioned.

“That...that can’t be legal,” Klaus replied in utter disbelief.

“It’s not like we have a constitution,” Phil replied.

“If this place is so miserable, why don’t you leave?” Klaus asks. 

All at once, like zombies or brainwashed members of a cult, the mill workers stood up and in a monotone chant, they replied, “Lucky Smells is our life. Lucky Smells is our home.” They sat back down as if nothing they had just done was out of the ordinary. Klaus looked down at Sunny with a worried face. 

“We need to find those answers and run away,” he said as Sunny nodded.

“Book!” she replied, which probably meant, “Didn’t the mill have a library?”

Klaus nodded his head as he picked Sunny up and walked out of the noisy mill into the peacefully quiet courtyard. During the walk to the mill's library, he couldn’t help but ponder just how terrible Sir was. What kind of man forces two small children to work in a lumber mill? What sort of man would hire a dickhead like the foreman? What sort of man would pay his employees in coupons or feed them only gum? But his biggest question was the same as the one he had asked Mr. Poe before they were even dropped off here which was how is a lumber mill a suitable home for two children? With each step, the children raised small clouds of dirt that matched the clouds of dread that continued to hang over them ever since their parents had died. Their bodies ached from the morning’s work and they had an uneasy feeling in their empty stomachs. As they guessed from the way their day began, the two children were having a bad day and I hate to inform you that although the Baudelaires believed it couldn’t get any worse. They were entirely wrong. Because it can get so much worse...and it did.

Finally, the two children reached the building that contained Sir’s office and Charles’ library. Klaus noticed a mirror hanging on the wall and peered in it frowning. Both children looked tired and hungry. Both children’s hair and uniforms were covered in small pieces of bark and sawdust. Klaus’ glasses were hanging askew from leaning over logs all morning and Sunny had pieces of wood stuck in her four teeth. Both children frowned and noticed a painting of a seashore that hung behind them, which made them feel about ten thousand times worse because the seashore will always remind them of that terrible, terrible day when the two siblings went to the beach and soon received the news from Mr. Poe that their parents had died and they were all alone in this world. The children stared at their own reflections and the depressing painting behind them, and it was almost unbearable for either of them to think about everything that had happened to them since that day. 

“You know, if someone had told me,” Klaus cried, “ that day at the beach, that before long I’d find myself pursued by a greedy, evil man named Count Olaf, I would have said they were insane.”

“Wora,” Sunny replied softly, which meant, “If someone had told me, that day at the beach, that before long I’d find myself using my four teeth to scrape the bark off trees because I was now working in a lumbermill, I would have said they were psychoneurotically disturbed.”

The dismayed orphans looked at their reflections and for several moments, the Baudelaires stood and pondered the mysterious way their lives were going. It wasn’t until Sunny pointed to a pair of closed doors muttering the word, “book,” that snapped Klaus back into reality. 

“You’re right, Sunny. According to the map, the mill library should be just behind...behind this door,” Klaus whispered as he touched the doors to open up. Just when he had placed a hand on the library door, a door behind the two children swung open.

“Trying to get out of log day, are you?” Sir’s booming voice asked. Klaus jumped in surprise and turned to see his guardians, one whose face was still entirely covered by a cloud of smoke and the other who was wearing an apron. 

“We wanted to visit the library on our lunch break, Sir.” 

“Oh! What a lovely idea!” Charles said smiling at the children, turning to Sir. “I told you a library would be good for morale,”

“Nonsense!” Sir yelled which cause both Klaus and Charles to flinch. “Lunch breaks are for chewing gum, not sneaking off to libraries! That’s why they only need five fucking minutes!”

“But, Sir…” Charles began.

“You’re not going to cause trouble for my mill, are you?”

“Trouble? I’m your partner.” Charles said in a saddened tone.

Sir turned to Charles. “I was speaking to the Baudelaires!” he said in a loud and annoyed tone.

“Right,” Charles muttered.

“Look here, boy, I took a chance treating you like grown-ups. Don’t make me regret it!” Sir yelled. 

“Puer!” Sunny yelled, which meant, “We never asked to be treated like grown-ups. If I recall correctly, we explained to you that we were children! ” Klaus was quick to translate for his sister.

Sir growled under his breath. “ Get back to work!” 

With that Sir turned and walked back into his office as Klaus and Sunny looked at Charles with desperate, pleading eyes. Charles gave the children a small frown as he slowly began to back up into the office. 

“You’ll have to excuse Sir. He recently cut down on his smoking,” Charles explained, even though, he knew deep down that was not a good enough excuse for why Sir was treating the Baudelaires so terribly.

“Do you know he feeds the workers gum and pays them in coupons!?” Klaus asks angrily. 

“Yes...well, I’ve tried to discuss that. ” 

“Par!” Sunny yelled, which meant, “If you guys are partners , you should be able to stand up to him!” Klaus translated for his sister.

“It’s complicated. I know Sir can be...prickly, but you have to understand, he had a very terrible childhood.” Charles explained as he grabbed ahold of the office doors and began to slowly close them.

Klaus glared at Charles and took a step closer to him as he thought about that horrible day at the beach again. “I understand,” Klaus said through gritted teeth. “ I’m having a very terrible childhood right now, ” he said his voice breaking.

Charles continued closing the office doors as he whispered, “okay.” Klaus just gave a look of utter disbelief at Charles’ lack of caring for the children.

Klaus and Sunny just stood there for a few moments before shaking their heads and walking back to the lumbermill. In the hours that followed as the two children worked and worked. Klaus had a pit in his stomach as he thought once again about the eye-shaped building. He was certain that Count Olaf was lurking nearby, like some predator waiting to pounce on the children while they weren’t looking. He tried his best to get a good look at every mill worker. It would have been simple for Olaf to get himself hired as an employee, and snatch the children away when Foreman Flacutono wasn’t looking. But although all the workers looked tired, sad, and hungry, none of them looked evil and greedy. As the orphans performed backbreaking labor, Klaus wondered if Count Olaf would use one of these scary-looking machines to somehow get his dirty hands on their parents’ money. He then thought of Foreman Flacutono and thought about just how odd his uniform was. No one else here was wearing a gas mask and although the mills’ green uniforms covered every inch of the workers’ arms and legs, they still weren’t as long and awkward as the foreman’s uniform. Klaus then remembered how a nice man, Kronk, had claimed to be from the Herpetological Society back when the children had lived with their Uncle Monty. Even though the man had been nice and helpful to the children, Klaus had always found it odd that he wore a beekeeper’s hat to conceal his face. He pondered whether or not Count Olaf could be doing that now but with a gas mask. 

“Penny?” Sunny asked as she sat up on the log staring at her brother, this meant, “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Huh?” Klaus asked confused.

“Cogitare,” Sunny replied, which meant, “You’re thinking something.” 

Klaus sighed and put down his debarker. “It’s the new foreman. Phil said he just showed up last night. What if he’s Count Olaf and being a foreman’s his new disguise?”

“Pessima,” Sunny replied annoyed, which meant, “He is cruel like Count Olaf, but Olaf runs a horrible theater troupe, not a lumbermill.”

“But isn’t it suspicious how we never see his face?” 

“Sir,” Sunny remarked.

“I already thought of that, Sir’s way too short to be Olaf in disguise.”

Sunny rolled her eyes at her brother unimpressed.

“...and we only hear his voice over the loudspeaker,” Klaus reasoned.

“Impellit,” Sunny remarked, which meant, “Probably because the mill is too noisy. It’s probably the only way anyone could ever hear him.”

“But…” Klaus cried.

“ Ludum! ” Sunny yelled impatiently, which meant, “ I know what you’re trying to do!” 

“Keep us safe!” Klaus cried.

“Nos!” Sunny yelled impatiently rolling her eyes, which meant, “Find a reason to leave. And we can just as soon as we clear our parents’ names.”

“I don’t care about that! I have to keep you safe!” Klaus argued.

“Curam me!” she replied harshly, which meant, “Goddammit, Klaus! I don’t need you to keep me safe! I can handle my own pretty sure I’ve done enough to prove that! Worry about yourself!”

Klaus frowned and looked to the ground. “I...I...I need a new debarker,” he said sadly as he tossed his to the ground. Sunny shrugged her shoulders and went back to work. Klaus walked slowly away from his baby sister, wiping the tears from his eyes. Klaus turned back to make sure Sunny was okay, she seemed annoyed but content as she went back to biting the bark off the logs. Klaus walked towards the debarker machine but noticed that Foreman Flacutono was asleep in his booth with his left leg hanging out. Klaus took this opportunity and quickly walked up near the booth, slowly kneeling down to the ground. 

Ever so cautiously, Klaus gently grabbed the man’s pant leg and began to slowly pull it up. Praying that he didn’t wake the foreman. He just needed to see the man’s ankle. As Klaus pulled the pant leg up, the foreman began to move slightly in his sleep. Klaus held his breath, trying his best to not wake the man up. Before he could see the man’s left ankle, the foreman jerked awake as Klaus jumped up not making eye contact with him. 

“What are you doing, midget?” the foreman asked him angrily.

“I...I...I need a new debarker,” Klaus said in a low voice, nervously. still not making eye contact with the man, in fear that it was actual Olaf in disguise.

“Spoiled brat wants a new debarker? Old rust one isn’t good enough for him, eh?” The foreman asked in a patronizing tone. “They’re over there, rich boy.” as he moved his arm to gesture at where they were located. That was what caught Klaus’ attention, the foreman didn’t point with his finger, he used his arm to more or less point. Klaus watched confused as the foreman lowered his oddly stiff arm. 

“Wait…” Klaus said under his breath trying to figure out where he had seen this type of stiff arm before.

Before he could figure it out. He felt the foreman’s left foot give him a harsh, painful kick in the ass as he fell to the ground. His glasses slid off his face a few inches in front of him. He winced in pain as his mind scrambled to figure out what had happened.

The foreman walked in front of him and purposefully stepped on his glasses. “Whoopsie!” the foreman said in a mocking tone as he made his way back to the booth.

“Klaus!” Sunny yelled realizing her brother was on the floor. Phil looked up and noticed that Klaus was lying on the floor as well. He quickly grabbed Sunny and walked towards the boy. By the time Phil and Sunny reached him a small crowd of workers circled Klaus. This reminded him of when Olaf had both slapped him in the face and when Olaf had tortured him and his troupe just sat around and watched the show before them. He wiped a tear from his eyes as he looked up and saw a blurry blob that was small enough to be his sister. 

“Specks!” Sunny yelled as she reached her brother, picking up his glasses for him, which meant, “Your glasses...they’re…”

“Twisted,” 

“Cracked,” 

“Hopelessly broken,” 

“They look A-okay to me,” Phil commented giving Klaus two thumbs up.

Klaus put his broken glasses on his face and saw that his coworkers were correct. His glasses resembled a piece of modern sculpture that a friend of mine made a long time ago called Twisted, Cracked, and Hopelessly Broken.

“The foreman kicked me!” Klaus yelled angrily. “And then he stepped on my glasses!” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! How could I kick him when I’m up in this booth?” Foreman Flacutono replied. “It was probably karma,”

“See?” Sunny asked desperately.

“A little,” Klaus replied.

“He’ll live,” Foreman Flacutono replied.

“Fucker!” Sunny yelled at the foreman as Phil helped Klaus up. 

“Get back to work, midget,” 

“He can’t work if he can’t see!” Phil explained.

“Too bad for him,” 

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Phil said calmly, “He needs an optometrist. A child could see that,”

“Not me,” Klaus said, “I can scarcely see anything.”

“Lucky for you, we’ve got a great optometrist right here in what’s left of our town,” 

The Baudelaires’ eyes got wide with panic. “You mean the eye-shaped building?” Klaus asked nervously.

“Oh yeah! Dr. Orwell treats all the workers. You probably saw the coupon in your welcome packet. I better get you there.” Phil said 

“No!” Sunny protested. “No take!” 

But Foreman Flacutono began banging his pots together as the other mill workers turned on the machines to finish the day’s work.

“That building has the mark of a bad, bad man!” Klaus pleaded as Phil dragged him away from Sunny.

“Yoryar!” Sunny begged crawling as fast as she could to stop Phil from taking her brother away from her, this meant, “Please don’t take him to that building!” But Klaus wasn’t able to translate because neither he or Phil could hear Sunny over the machines. Klaus gave Sunny a hopeful smile. 

“I’ll be fine!” he shouted to her. “Maybe I can find some answers!” 

“Same!” She yelled back.

The Baudelaire sister watched in horror as Phil led Klaus out of the mill. The whirring sounds continued all around Sunny, and Foreman Flacutono was now yelling at her to get back to work as he smacked his pots together. But that wasn’t the loudest sound that the younger Baudelaire orphan hared. Louder than the machine, louder than the pots, louder than the foreman’s yelling, was the sound of her own furiously beating heart as Phil took her big brother away.

[the-small-one-to-rule-them-all]

Two Worlds Collide - Ch. 5

Chapter 5- To Save a Prince

chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5 (you are here)

summary: Roman’s situation gets worse and Logan does all he can to help.

pairing: romantic Logince 

word count: 3,496

warnings: mild injury mention, screaming, blood mention, parental abuse, knife mention, crying, vague drowning mention, death mention, unintentional deadnaming, self-deprecation, mention of parental abandonment, medicine, please, please, please tell me if there is something that I missed.

a/n: This is it guys, the last chapter. I urge you to please please heed the warnings. If something on the list is hard for you and you would still like to read the fic, I would be happy to give you a paragraph to skip to and sum up what happens in a way that keeps you safe. Thank you to everyone who has read. Thank you for sticking with me. I hope you have enjoyed this story as much as I have. Now, let’s get into it. 

 It has been about a week since Roman let Logan finish healing his back. Logan has enjoyed getting to know Roman better and learn about him and the human world. He loves how Roman’s face lights up when he tells a story or talks about something he’s passionate about. He hopes that he gets to see that again today.

He is definitely shocked when Roman does actually arrive. Logan gasps when he sees him stumble into the cove limping and bruised, “Oh my goodness, Roman, are you okay?”

Roman ignores him as he kneels down close in front of Logan. He is breathing heavily but manages to ask, “Dee, can you ask Dee if my mom and brother are alive?”

Logan frowns, “Yes. I’ve told you that before but I don't understand how that is relevant to-”

Roman ignores him,“Would... would you ask him if he knows how they are, if they're still alive, like right now?”

“You want me to go ask him now? Why?” Logan asks. He knows that he could swim there since he’s almost completely healed, but the prince seems to be in pretty bad shape.

Roman’s jaw trembles, “I need to know if they’re alive.”

Logan frowns at him, not quite believing him “Okay, I'll go ask. It should only take maybe an hour to get there talk to him and get back. Will you be okay to wait here?”

Roman’s breathing slows as he scoots back and relaxes against the wall of the cove, “Yes. I’ll be fine.”

 When Logan returns less than an hour later, he is startled to hear screaming coming from inside the cave. His first thought goes to Roman and he can only hope the prince hasn't hurt himself. He sneaks in. He only barely manages to hold back a gasp as he sees a man he can only imagine to be Roman's father bent over Roman, holding a knife. Logan begins to panic. Roman is screaming. He is bleeding. Roman falls to the floor. The man raises the knife. Roman doesn’t raise an arm to defend himself. Logan becomes frantic. The man swings. Logan lurches himself out of the water and screams. A terrifying scream meant only to be heard in the depths of the ocean.

The man drops the knife in shock. He screams in terror upon seeing Logan, “A siren! Run for your life!” He leaves quickly and Logan breathes a sigh of relief.

Logan rushes to Roman's side, “Roman, Ro, He’s gone. You’re safe. Are you okay?”

Roman groans and stares wide eyed at Logan. He latches on to one of Logan’s arms, and starts to cry, “Please, please Lo, take me to the dragon! I can't stay here! I can't go back! He’s gonna kill me!”

Logan runs his free hand through Roman’s hair doing his best to soothe him. He then places a hand on Roman’s gently pulling him off of him and nods, “Okay, I’ll take you to Dee, but at least let me help heal you a little bit first.”

Roman takes a few seconds to respond, looking around as if expecting something to pop up out of the shadows. After a moment he seems satisfied. He nods laying in submission, still crying as Logan kisses the cuts and bruises on his hands and arms.

Logan carefully looks him over, making sure he isn't bleeding anywhere. When he is satisfied that Roman seems to be okay, he finds that he releases a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

He runs a hand through Roman’s hair, “I can take you to Dee, but you’re going to have to swim. Can you do that now or should I heal some more things so you can get there?”

Roman sits up and clings to Logan. Between hiccuping breaths he insists, “It doesn’t matter just get me out of here! Take me to Dee, please. I don't care if my family is there or not just please get me away from him.” 

Logan holds Roman firmly and runs a calming hand over his back, “Shh. I will take you. Don't worry. But for right now I need you to calm your breathing so you don't hurt yourself swimming. Please, just try to relax as much as you can. We can stay here awhile, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Roman whimpers holding only tighter to the merman. And it takes some time, but Roman melts into Logan’s soothing touches and his breathing calms.

Roman slowly releases Logan from his grasp, “Okay, i'm... I feel ready now.”

“Are you sure there is nothing left you want me to heal?”

Roman considers it for no more than a second, “No, i’ll be okay.”

Logan nods, “Well then follow me okay, it isn't that far.”

Roman kicks off his shoes, knowing they will weigh him down, and follows Logan into the sea trusting him to guide him to safety.

They swim for a while, and make good time Logan being sure to set a pace the prince can keep up with. However, soon Roman feels his adrenaline wearing off and he swears under his breath as he feels his strength quickly leaving him. “Logan! Logan wait!”

Logan turns around, holding Roman up as he treads water for them, “What is it?”

Roman sighs and looks away, “I’m sorry but I can't go any farther, I.. I can't do it.”

Logan points not twenty feet away, “See that cave over there? That's where we’re going. Are you sure you can't make it?”

Roman looks from the cave to logan and back and nods, “I can't go any further, I... I can't. Everything hurts so much, I can barely move. If you weren’t holding me up I... i’d be under the waves.”

Logan frowns, “Wrap your arm around my shoulders. We will make it together, okay?”

Roman throws his arm over Logan’s shoulders with a grunt and holds tightly. Slowly they make their way to the cave. When they get close enough, Roman crawls up the beach a little before collapsing. 

Logan joins him on the beach and calls for the dragon, “Dee, Dee! It’s Logan again! I’ve brought the Prince! He is hurt, please help!”

Roman shrinks into himself when he feels the thudding of the dragon coming to the mouth of the cave shake the ground.

“What is your name, prince?” the dragon asks.

Roman gulps, “I... I'm Roman. Please, help me. My father, he... I can't go back. ”

“You are safe here,” Dee says.

Roman sighs, thankful.

Dee nods, “Your family is here to see you.”

Roman barely has the strength to sit up on his arms to see his mother and brother rushing towards him.

“Regina!” his mother cries as she runs to wrap her arms around him.

Roman grimaces in pain as she hugs him tight, “It’s Roman now.”

His mom smiles letting go, “Oh, how wonderful! I'm glad you have finally joined us, Roman.”

Roman turns to his brother, “Virgil! It’s great to see you again!”

Virgil gently hugs him, “It took you long enough to get here. We’re excited to have you come live with us.” 

Roman chuckles, “I'm so happy you’re alive. I had thought I would never see you again, I thought you were gone.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, it’s just what dad always told me.”

Pat runs a hand through Roman’s hair with a frown, “Well now you’ll never have to deal with that horrible man again.”

Roman sighs, relief washing over him as the reality of everything that has happened sets in. Then he turns to Logan, “Will I ever see you again?”

Logan frowns, “Truthfully, I don't know. I hope so, but I don't know where I'm going to end up. I... I learned recently that at home the whole kingdom thinks I'm dead, not that I would want to go back anyway.”

Roman frowns, “Wait, how would the whole kingdom notice that you're dead?”

“It... uh...” Logan  mutters gaping at Roman.

Roman doesnt think that’s a good answer, “Were you really popular or something or are you exaggerating? Because if you, Logan the literal is exaggerating, then something is either really wrong or you’re lying.”

Logan looks down and grimaces, “I... I would say nothing is wrong but that isn’t true. But I wasn't exaggerating either.” Logan takes a deep breath and steels himself, “I was the prince back home. That’s why they all think I'm dead.”

Roman’s jaw drops. 

Logan sighs, “I can't go back now, I don’t even want to. It’s why I never told you how I actually ended up in that cove, but you deserve to know the truth.” Logan stops and collects himself, grief and shame evident on his face, “I got washed up on the beach during the storm while stargazing, but I wasn't just stargazing for fun. My... my parents were the ones that hurt me. They... they broke my fin and cut my tail. I swam to the surface because I wanted to see the stars before I... before I died. When I got to the surface I realised the stars were hidden and panicked and then I hit my head on a barrel and woke up on the beach.”

Roman doesn’t know what to say, “Oh my god Lo. I... i'm sorry.”

“Don't be, I just don't know where i'm going to go now.”

Without thinking Roman says, “Come with us!”

Logan sighs, “I can't. I can't get out of the water.”

“Why not?”

“Because!”

Roman frowns at him, “That's not a real reason Logan and you know it!” He says pointing at Logan aggressively.

Logan throws up his hands, “Fine, you wanna see why, I'll show you why!” Logan yells. In a sad, desperate rage he pulls himself out of the water. 

Roman stares at Logan as he writhes on the sand. He groans and gasps in pain as his tail shrinks and separates and his fins and scales shrink and disappear until... until he is human. Roman gasps looking him over. His legs are all bent and shrunk. He realises that Logan couldn't use his legs if he wanted to. Logan won’t meet Roman’s eyes. Roman hardly thinks he would be able to see him through the tears. 

Logan shakes his head, “I can't follow you! I doubt you want me to now anyway, but I get it. I have never been wanted by any one! Not my human parents who threw me into the ocean for being born, not my mer-parents who hated me for not being fully one of them, no one. It's no surprise though, who wants to hang out with someone who is so ugly and different from them? Who wants a friend who doesnt fit in anywhere? No one that’s who.”

Roman pulls himself from his mom's arms and drags himself over to Logan, “That's not true!” he insists.

Logan looks at him sadly, tears still falling, “Please don't make this any harder than it has to be. I can't navigate the human world. I might just go join a different merkingdom. I... it can't be that hard to get a job, I hope.”

Roman cuts him off, he brushes a lock of hair off of Logan’s face and scoots in close.

Logan gasps, not pulling away.

Slowly, Roman leans in pressing a kiss to Logan's lips. Roman pours everything he has into that kiss, love, hope, pain, trying desperately to have Logan understand. 

They break apart and Logan sighs, “Roman, I can't... I... I can't walk.”

Roman sits up and shakes his head, “You don't have to walk. I want you by my side. And if that’s what you want too then we will figure this out. I will carry you myself if I have to!” Roman declares. In his passion he pushes himself to his feet, and immediately sways and falls. 

Virgil catches him with ready hands, looking him over, “He’s okay. Looks like he just fainted.”

As Virgil adjusts his grip on Roman so he can carry him best, Roman’s mom approaches Logan, “Hello Logan, i'm Pat, Roman's mother.”

Logan smiles, “Nice to meet you. I'm thankful to have had the pleasure to get to know your son.”

Pat smiles, “Me too. You two certainly do care for each other. I hope you get to spend a long time together, if that’s what you want of course!” she says.

“What?” Logan stares at her in confusion. 

Pat laughs, “Well if he can't carry you, one of us can!”

Logan smiles, “You would do that?”

“Of course!”

“I... Thank you.”

 Roman groans as he wakes up. His mind is foggy. Where is he? What happened... is that Virgil? Oh. Suddenly Roman remembered what had happened the night before.

“Where are we?” Roman asks, looking around the room. 

“Hey Ro, i'm glad to see you’re awake!” Virgil says with a smile. “We’re in Dee’s cave system. He doesn’t really use most of it so he lets us live here.”

Roman groans “Okay. I guess im glad im awake, but at what cost?”

“Are you okay?”

“Everything hurts.” He wines, “My head, my fingers, and all of my toes, even muscles I didn't know I had! Everything. Hurts. I think i'm dying.” 

Virgil frowns, “I’ll get you some more pain killers. You can’t be dying too badly if you’re still able to be this dramatic.” As he walks over to the counter looking for the medicine he chuckles, “You know, it’s kinda cute, but also a bit weird, Logan has been insisting that he has to ‘kiss the bruises better’ but this should work a bit better than that.”.

Roman blinks at him, “It... it actually works, you know.” 

“What?”

Roman sighs, “Healing through kisses, it works. I know it sounds like something out of one of my crazy stories but it does. I know it does. He has healed me before.”

Virgil nods, “Oh, well okay then. I still want you to take the pain killer.”

Roman grunts and lifts his head as Virgil feeds him his dose of the bad tasting liquid.

Roman must've pulled quite the face because Virgil chuckled, “I bet you probably like Logan’s kisses more than that.”

Roman sighs and changes the subject, “Is Logan okay?”

VIrgil nods, “Yeah, he’s fine. He’s actually probably going to come in from finishing lunch any minute.”

Roman smiles. Then he suddenly remembers, “Did... oh gosh, did I actually kiss him, basically say I was going to save him and immediately faint?”

Virgil chuckles again, “Yes you did. it was quite funny actually”

Roman groans, he would throw his arm over his face if he knew it wouldn’t hurt too bad, “God he probably hates me.”

Virgil shakes his head with a scoff, “No, he’s been asking to see you. You must've made quite the impression on him, the little lovebird. We have only been able to get him to leave your side to eat and sleep, it’s so cute it’s almost disgusting. He will probably be upset he wasn't here when you woke up. I’ll go get him and let you two talk.”

“Don't call him disgusting.” Roman pouts as Virgil stands to leave.

“Fine. I won't.” He gets halfway out the door before turning around to say, “Make sure to lock the door when you let your boyfriend kiss you all better.”

Roman shakes his head as Virgil disappears through the doorway. Shortly after Logan comes in, he’s using a wheelchair

Logan smiles wide upon seeing Roman awake, “You’re awake! Oh thank goodness. Are you okay?” he asks approaching Roman.

Roman hums, “I'm really sore, and hungry, but otherwise I'm okay.”

Logan visibly relaxes, “Good good, i'm glad.”

“Yes, me too.”

There are a few moments of uncomfortable silence, “So, uh, I like the chair.” Roman comments.

Logan nods, running his hands over the arm rests, “Yes, it’s a rather ingenious invention, isn't it?”

“Yeah!” Roman nods.

After a moment Roman looks at Logan and says,  “Umm, I don't mean to be rude but uh.... you’re human?

Logan chuckles, “Yes, but also no. It... it’s complicated.

“I’m in so much pain I can't move, I got the time.”

“I thought you said you’re okay!?” Logan scolds him.

“Don't change the subject Lo, that’s my move.”

Logan sighs, “Fine, I suppose it wouldn’t be too hard to tell you.”

Roman smiles.

“But no interrupting okay?” 

He nods.

“Good,” Logan takes a deep breath and stares off at a bit of wall, “So I was born a human to a human family, I was just as crippled then as I am now. I don't know what made them get rid of me, if I was too broken, if they didn't think they could give me a good enough life, if they were disgusted with me, I really do not know. I can’t. But, for whatever reason, they decided they didn't want me, so they threw me into the ocean. ir was there that my parents, the mermaid ones that is, found me floating in the ocean. They took pity on me. They wrapped me in a bubble of air and brought me to a sea witch. She made me a merman, but the magic only lasts as long as I am in the ocean, as soon as I leave the water completely I change back to,” He gestured to himself, “this.”

Roman smiles,“Well, I kinda like you like this, it means you can follow me here.”

Logan smiles.

They are silent again for a moment.

 “So umm, about the other day...” Logan says.

Roman blinks, “Hmm?”

Logan flushes, or at least Roman thinks he does, “You kissed me.”

Roman tries not to panic, “Oh, uh, Yup... that happened. sorry.”

Logan smirks and shakes his head, “No, don't apologize. I was just wondering, did you just kiss me because you were over-exhausted and potentially not thinking correctly or would you actually be unopposed if I were to kiss you?”

“Are... are you saying... you want to kiss me?” Roman asks carefully.

Logan crosses his arms and looks away, “I am not saying until you give me an answer.”

Roman smiles, “I kissed you because while my tired brain was spinning I realised that... I like you Logan, romantically. I think I have for a while. You have changed my life for the better, i'm so much happier with you in my life. I’ve learned so much from you.”

Roman sighs fondly, “I think I fell in love with you early on. I love the way your face lights up when you talk about the stars because I swear your smile is brighter than all of them. I love how you are so sure of what you know. I fell in love with the way you try to act all serious when we banter. I especially love when I catch you smiling in the middle of a comeback or after I call you a nickname. You have kept me honest when I was determined not to be. You care about me and about others. Lo, I would call you my starlight but if i'm being honest, you are my world.”

Logan smiles wide. “I.. you... that’s... good... I uh...” He stammers for a moment before finding his words, color rising to his cheeks with every passing moment, “Roman, to say you have changed my life is an understatement. Your willingness and eagerness to help me when you had every right and every reason to walk away... it overwhelmed me at first. I honestly didn't think I deserved it, but little by little you have shown me how I do, and I thank you for that.

“Your caring nature and desire not only to help people, but to make their day a little better in any way you can is inspiring. Learning from you and hearing you tell me stories just because you liked seeing me smile, in a time where everyone had rejected me so far meant- means so much to me. I was hesitant to believe it at first, but I know now, I have feelings for you too. You kept me alive these past few weeks, for that I would call you my sunshine, but I would much prefer to have you be my world.”

Now Roman is the one blushing, “Oh.”

Logan chuckles and scoots a bit closer to the bed situating himself to face Roman better. “May I be so bold as to kiss you?”

Roman’s face flushes bright red, reaching his ears as he smiles, “I... uh, yes, please.”

Logan smiles and leans down and Roman lifts his head to meet him. It wasn't the most comfortable position for a kiss for either of them, but they didn't care. They had come to realise they were one another’s world. And in that moment, as their lips met, their worlds collided and they became something more beautiful than either of them had dreamed.

[mrs-fairchild]

Kitty In the shower Confessing feelings (I don't care if it sounds dumb why are they in the shower together randomly They'd be cute :)

Okay, this turned out to be a bit longer than I expected, I’m sorry! Ah, and I ended up making it a sequel to this short fic I had written before. Enjoy!

“...Right?” Kit heard Abby asking for confirmation. He hadn’t listened to a word she said.

See, when he thought about making mundane friends, it seemed like a good idea. They were really the only friends he could make there - at least of the people his age (a requirement which Jem and Tessa definitely did not fill) - and it would be a nice way to escape the shadowhunter world sometimes.

What he hadn’t thought about was what to do when a Ravener demon showed up in his friend’s college campus.

“Huh?” he muttered to himself as he watched the scorpion-like creature move, green saliva dripping everywhere.

“I just said that I know your friend is in town, and things are complicated between you two but you obviously like him! You can’t use hanging out with me as an excuse to avoid him forever!”

This caught his attention. Kit’s blue eyes flashed between his friend and the demon, his attention split for a second. He was opening his mouth to answer when he saw the creature crawl into one of the labs.

“Gottago!Talklater!” his words jumbled together as he darted past her, towards the Ravener. Behind him he heard the girl screaming: YOU CAN’T AVOID HIM FOREVER!

Kit jumped over a table in the patio - running past the college kids who now stared at him - with supernatural speed. He wasn’t sure what the mundanes were seeing at the moment but it certainly wasn’t him  - Seraph blade drawn from his belt, chasing after a slimy scorpion-like monster into a chem lab.

Cassiel, he whispered and the blade came alive, radiating blue light.

The lab was empty - thank the angel. So he wouldn’t have to deal with kids getting in the way. At the same time, though, the question remained: what is it doing here? It clearly wasn’t going after Kit. Who was it looking for? Or what was he looking for?

He had no time to meditate on this right now. The demon jumped at him and Kit only had time to avoid the poison-dripping teeth before it crashed its tail into the shelves above them. He heard the sound of glass breaking and liquid rained down on them. Kit felt the slight burning sensation on his back and noticed it probably hadn’t been water. He took his arm to his forehead, wiping it clean in order to stop whatever it was from running into his eyes.

The demon seemed to have a little trouble too, as he backed away a couple of steps, his tail flailing from side to side. Kit didn’t think the creature’s multiple eyes could look angrier than usual, but there it was. The shadowhunter stepped on a chair, and used it as leverage to jump above the creature, his blade shining blue, ready to decapitate the demon in a second and...

...He missed it. His arm, now burning from when he wiped the liquid off his forehead, failed to stab precisely at the last minute, barely scratching the demon, and now Kit was the one on the ground. His heart raced as he stared at the creature looming over him. If Kit didn’t know better, he would have said the Ravenor demon looked amused as he went for the kill.

And then a sharp metallic object went through the creature’s neck. The Ravener fell sideways, dissolving into dust and goo as it did so.

Kit looked up to see Tiberius Blackthorn across the room, another knife on his hand, ready to throw again if necessary.

The blond boy opened his mouth to say something, but Ty was quicker.

“You need to get into the shower.” he said.

“Huh?” To Kit, those words made no sense.

“There is acid all over you. You need to take off your clothes and get into the safety shower station RIGHT NOW. Then we can make an Iratze.” Ty pointed at the yellow shower in the corner of the room.

Kit opened his mouth and closed it again. Of all the the things he thought Ty might say to him, this definitely isn't one of them. Hoped? Maybe. But certainly not in this situation.

“By the Angel, Kit, just do it!” Ty pushed him towards the shower, concern and frustration mixing in his voice. “I won’t look” he promised, bushing a little as he pushed the other boy under the water pressure and immediately turned away.

“Okay, okay…” Kit finally managed to force words out of his mouth and took off his acid-doused shirt, as he felt the water wash over him. He didn’t think the acid had fallen over his pants as well so he decided to keep those. The fact that he didn’t have another pair, that Ty was there, and that he didn’t want to walk around a college campus in his underwear, were also a compelling factor in this decision.

“Ty…” Kit said, after a moment. “What were you doing here?”

Kit didn’t see his face, but could see the back of the boy tense up with the question.

“Don’t get me wrong” Kit added quickly “I’m glad you were here, I mean, saving my life and everything but… Why?”

“Tessa said you might be here.” He started to say and then blurted out the rest in an extremely fast-paced explanation. “I thought you were avoiding me, because of what happened the other day and I wanted to apologise. I didn’t mean to pry. I know your powers are none of my business… And I shouldn’t have said that about you not saying goodbye. After what I did, I had no right to expect you to want to talk to me ever again and I understand if you don’t, now. I just had to say I’m sorry.”

He stopped for a moment and then continued as if unable to stop the words from leaving his mouth “...Then I saw you with your girlfriend and I didn’t want to interrupt anything, but you ran to chase some demon and I just had to see if you were okay.”

“She’s not my girlfriend” was the only thing Kit managed to say.

“Oh…” Ty said, and the room went quiet for a second.

“I’m the one who should be apologising.” Kit answered finally. Somehow it was easier letting out the truth when Ty wasn’t looking at him “I shouldn’t have reacted like that the other day. I also shouldn’t have been avoiding you or have left you without saying goodbye… I just…” he took a deep breath, closed his eyes and let the truth pour out of him “I don’t know how to deal with the way I feel about you… And I didn’t think you should have to deal with it either. You had enough on your plate.”

There was another brief moment of silence and then an “ouch” from Kit, who tried to reach his back with his hands. While clean, it still felt sore, like he had just had a terrible sunburn.

Try drew his steele. “Is it okay, if I…?”

Kit replied a weak “yeah” as Ty turned and stepped into the shower as well. None of them stopped to think  about turning the water off before Ty started carefully drawing the healing rune on Kit’s chest, over his heart.

Kit was sure the mere feeling of Ty’s hand on his chest made his heart beat a million times faster and there was no way for Ty not to have noticed.

“How did you?” Ty said in a low voice. “...Feel… About me?”

Kit smiled sadly as he gazed into the boy’s grey eyes. Ty, like Kit, was completely soaked. His dark hair glued to his forehead, his lips were wet. Kit still did not understand how a person could in every occasion look so unimaginably beautiful. “I told you once...” he said - and the memory of Kit’s desperate confession while Ty tried to resurrect his sister felt tangible between them.

“I…” Ty began, but Kit interrupted him.

“You don’t have to say it. Really. I get it. I was just a lost kid that you guys were helping, and when Livvy…” he paused for a second “I had no right to hope that you would care about me... I was just a stupid kid.”

Ty looked absolutely shocked.

“You thought I didn’t care about you?” he finished the Iratze, his hands were still on Kit’s chest, his eyes wide with shock. “How could you… How could I not care about you? When… When she died you were the only person I wanted to be around, the only person I trusted with my plans, the only one I needed to have by my side.” he paused, and Kit saw in him the same despair he must have had in his own eyes that day “Kit- how could you not know I loved you?”

At that Kit couldn’t think anymore. He couldn’t think about how is it that he was so wrong for so many years. He couldn’t think about how Ty must have felt when he left without so much as saying goodbye. He couldn’t think about how he had based so much of the last years on premise that was never true. He barely even noticed the water that still fell over their heads. All he could think about is that Ty had loved him. And he was here, his hand on his heart, as if he knew it would always belong to him…

So Kit didn’t think about anything else when he pulled Ty into a kiss. And for just one moment, nothing else mattered.

[sharedshield]

Another prompt of my @badthingshappenbingo and another thing that I intended to be much shorter, but well. Also, I was prompted to write this one, thank you so much for that, and if any of you lovelies wants to see one of those ideas up there turned into a fic, feel free to ask.

Anyway, enjoy!!

Fandom: Timeless

Pairing: Garcy, there’s some background Wyjess too

Prompt: Communication Suddenly Cut Off

Couples get into fights. They do, it’s a healthy, human thing and most times they reconcile when they’ve calmed down.

Denise and Michelle fight, most times it’s about Denise’s job or the kids. Those are normal things.

Rufus and Jiya fight. About Star Wars and Star Trek, what take out to order and from which place. Sometimes, it’s about Jiya’s visions, sometimes it’s because Rufus acts carelessly on missions (and if Flynn is the snitch, well, nobody but Jiya and him has to know that).

Wyatt and Jessica fought. Often. About the army, about Wyatt not getting himself the help he needs, Delta Force, other guys. Now, that they’re at the bunker, they fight too. About Rittenhouse, about missions, about the baby.

Lucy and Garcia fight. Oh boy, and how they do. They’re both strong-willed people, stubborn and even though Garcia looks at Lucy like she hung the moon, he calls her out from time to time, doesn’t hold back when he thinks she’s wrong.

They don’t fight very often, but when the do it’s loud and it often ends with one of them storming away. They both sulk, give each other a cold shoulder for a few hours, maybe for a few days if it’s been particularly bad, but eventually the storm clouds dissipate and they find their way back to each other.

“You know what? Just do it, go, I don’t care. Go and get yourself killed if it’s not enough for you that it would at least affect me”, Lucy turns to storm off, but Garcia catches her hand before she’s out of reach.

“Lucy”, he pleads, most of the fight has already drained out of him, now he’s just tired wants her to understand. “I don’t want to go, I have to go. I’m the most capable to do it.”

“But you don’t have to go alone! Take at least Wyatt with you!” The suggestion to take Wyatt with him comes somehow reluctant. He’s still a wildcard concerning working with Garcia, which is, honestly, stupid.

“That wouldn’t make it any easier, Lucy. Plus, he still isn’t at a hundred percent yet.”

That’s true. Wyatt caught a bullet on the last mission, and no matter what he says, he still needs some time. But that doesn’t cool down Lucy’s anger.

“Then talk to Denise! Tell her you can’t do it like that!”

“Lucy”, Garcia says again, sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “We have to do it now. We have the information now, Rittenhouse doesn’t know we’re coming and the sooner we get to it, the more damage we can do.”

Denise had gotten information about a Rittenhouse location, they didn’t know for sure, but they’re pretty sure it’s where they store the Mothership. Denise couldn’t dispatch a unit of Homeland Security Agents, the risk ticking of a snitch, of a double agent working in the system was too high.

With Wyatt out of the game, Denise had to turn to Garcia. She wasn’t too comfortable with that, but it was the best choice they had.

“Do you even care?”, Lucy bellows now, so upset that tears are threatening to spill. “Do you even care that you could die doing this? Do you really want to give Rittenhouse the satisfaction to have killed every one of your family?”

It hurts, badly. And Lucy knows that. That’s why she said it. Because she can’t have him giving his life to Rittenhouse just like this.

“Lucy…”

Sometimes it seems her name is the only word Garcia remembers.

“Uh, guys?”, Rufus’ timid inquiry cuts through the heavy tension like a knife. “We should get this show on the road.”

“We’ll be right there”, Garcia promises and takes a step closer to Lucy, carefully caresses her arm. “I’m sorry, my love, I have to go. I promise I’ll be back in no time.”

He desperately searches for her eyes, but she turns away, moving away from his touch. It leaves him hollow.

 Lucy joins the rest of the team a while after Flynn has left the bunker. She silently pulls a chair over to the improvised comm center, where a tiny screen shows a grainy picture of Garcia’s perspective and a pair of speakers transmit his voice.

From what she gathers, he’s almost at the location. Good for him.

“Y’know, Flynn”, Rufus mentions casually after shooting Lucy a cautious look, “Whenever Jiya and I get into a fight, I bring her something nice to apologize. Not to say that women are materialistic or something, but it usually is an appropriate gesture to show that you care.”

“Rufus, I’ve been married. I know how it works. Better than most husbands”, he utters a little self-deprecating laugh, and Lucy does her hardest not to smile. He doesn’t deserve a smile. Not now, not with this self-destructive behavior, not when he acts like it wouldn’t hurt her when something happens to him. Because something will happen to him, she knows it.  

“I’ve arrived at the compound. Two men at the front gate. I’m going to try the back door.”

Lucy tries not to listen. The fear has already settled into her bones, she doesn’t need dread to form a tight ball in her stomach, she feels sick enough as it is.

Nevertheless, the noises from the speakers find their ways to her. Muffled gunshots, Garcia grunting as he drags the bodies into hidden spaces, his short and precise updates as he continues to fight his way into the building.

“I’m inside now”, he huffs eventually, Lucy has to strain to understand his words.

“Then you’re on your own.”

Denise’s words sound final. Lucy fights the urge to throw up.

Right now, she hates every person in this godforsaken bunker. She hates Denise for making him go on the assignment. She hates Wyatt for getting shot. She hates Rufus and Jiya for not convincing him to stay. She doesn’t know why she hates Connor, but Lucy’s sure she’ll find a reason.

“Sounds like there are people behind those doors”, Garcia says after he rummaged through an office space and several storage spaces of various sizes. Until now, he hasn’t found much, some weapons, some paperwork about employees and rented premises. No sign of the Mothership and, Lucy counts that as luck, no sign of Emma for now.

The doors his camera is pointed at are big enough to hide some sort of garage behind them, one that’s definitely big enough to store a time machine.

“Do you hear anything specific?”, Denise half obscures Lucy’s view of the screen and she barely keeps herself from shoving the agent away.

“No, it’s muffled. There are no other entryways but this gate.”

Denise takes a breath, thinks. Then she looks at Wyatt, who nods. Lucy wants to strangle him. Especially since it had been Garcia who dragged his unconscious ass back to the Lifeboat, after Emma decided to have a little fun with them.

“It’s your call.”

Lucy jumps up, her chair falls over with a deafening bang.

“Garcia-“

“I’ll do it.”

“No!-“

Wyatt grabs her wrist and pulls her back, blocks her sight, she hears Denise agreeing and wants to scream, to yell at him not to do it, to come back to her, but Wyatt presses his hand against her lips, muffling her words.

She fights him for a few seconds, in the background she hears how Garcia and Denise go over a last few details, claws at his hand until he pulls her to his chest, presses her flush against his warm body.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! But he’ll be distracted if he hears you. He needs to concentrate”, Wyatt whispers and Lucy stills. She knows he’s right and buries her face in his shirt, tries to block out the noises from the speaker. But with closed eyes they only become clearer.

“I’m going in.”

The doors open, for a moment everything is silent. Then unintelligible voices, Garcia starts to say something, but his voice is drowned out by the firing of guns.

Lucy freezes. She grabs Wyatt’s shirt a little tighter.

Suddenly, static.

Wyatt turns, takes Lucy with him, they stare at the screen, it’s dark safe for the flashing of the guns. It turns completely black after another two seconds.

“Get me those comms up and working now!”

Jiya, Rufus and Connor jump into motion, frantically press buttons, yell tech gibberish at each other, but nothing they do works. The screen remains black, static crackling fills the air.

Lucy leaves.

 It’s twenty minutes later when Jessica knocks at the unfamiliar steel door. She has never so much as looked at it before.

Without waiting for an answer, she opens it and finds Lucy sitting on ground, leaning against the frame of hers and Flynn’s shared bed. She’s also never been inside the room but isn’t surprised by what’s in front of her. It exactly depicts its owners, books stacked on every available surface but there’s a certain tidiness to it. Some gun stuff, concealed, but Jess knows what to look for. Little to no personal effects.

She sits down beside Lucy.

“Did the others send you?”

“No.”

It’s the truth, they didn’t. Currently they’re worrying over Flynn’s position and Wyatt tries to convince Christopher to let him lead a team to get the Croat back.

She decided for herself to come, to look after Lucy, because, finally, this is something she can do, something she’s good at. Something she’s used to.

“How did you do it?”, Lucy asks eventually.

Jess shrugs. “You learn to get used to it. You distract yourself. You try not to think about it so much. Because that’s what gets to you. The what ifs and maybes. I used to think about all the stuff we’d do once Wyatt was home. Maybe it’s not the healthiest way to cope. But it worked for me.”

 Lucy tries to distract herself, tries not to think about him.

She chats with Jess for a while and is pleasantly surprised by how pleasant her company is. The blonde tells her a little from when she met Wyatt at high school, of their tiny wedding which was everything they could’ve wished for. She keeps it light.

And for some time, it works. Then reality slams back into Lucy, full force, and she is reminded that they, her and Garcia, may never have any of this. That their love could die in this bunker.

She can’t breathe and finds herself over the toilet, retching. Wyatt is there (where did he come from?) and rubs her back softly. Others are there too, they take turns watching her, as if they need to keep her from drowning herself in the toilet.

In the middle of the night, Lucy wanders the cold and empty hallways and stops at the front door.

He will come through that damn door, she tells herself. He will, and then I’ll punch the living daylights out of him.

 He does.

There’s metal clanking and banging, it rises Lucy out of the exhausted slumber she’s slipped in, and then he’s standing in the doorway, blocking it almost completely with his heavy gear and an enormous bouquet of wild flowers and a box with a ribbon.

Lucy doesn’t care, she makes him drop it all when she jumps into his arms, she also doesn’t care about the blood covering one side of his face when she kisses him.

Because he’s home and the storm clouds are gone.

[rose-tylers]

like a ghost

Dimension Hopping Rose/Human!Ten (sort of) - all ages (super angsty)

For @doctorroseprompts weekly theme “physical hurt/comfort” (a slight variation on “An injured Dimension Hopping Rose is found by a different Doctor”), and this picture at @dwficprompts

AO3

Rose sees the low fence too late to stop, and bangs her shin against it, flying forward and landing roughly in a heap on the road.

"Got to work on these landings," she mutters to herself. Her knee is stinging, her ankle throbbing, and she grits her teeth as she slowly pushes upward.

There's a sound of running feet coming towards her, and then a male voice saying, "Blimey, that was a bad fall. Are you all right?"

There's something familiar about the voice, so familiar it makes her breath catch in her chest, and she hesitantly lifts her head. Her breath leaves her in a whoosh as she meets a pair of brown eyes that she'd know anywhere, sitting below brown hair that's artfully mussed and above a light smattering of freckles across the cheeks.

"Doctor?" she breathes. The man's expression turns confused, and he shakes his head.

"No, I'm not a doctor, but I can take you to one, if you think you need it."

"No," Rose says, swallowing hard. "Sorry, got confused for a second."

The man kneels to help her up, and she closes her eyes at his hand under her elbow, his chest against her arm.

"What's your name?" he asks.

"Rose. And – and yours?"

"John. John Smith. Dreadfully boring, I know."

Rose gives a shaky laugh, even as her chest aches, and John steps back to give her a onceover. She sees he's wearing not a suit, but jeans and a jumper, though the trainers on his feet make her heart skip another beat.

"Your knee looks pretty bad, why don't you come back to my flat so I can patch you up? I'm just up this way."

"No, I'm fine, really –"

"I won't force you, but I'd feel a lot better if I could at least get a bandage on it."

Rose hesitates, and then nods, not really in the mood to argue. They start to walk forward, but her ankle gives out from under her, and she stumbles to the side.

"Whoa!" John exclaims, rushing to grab her. "Maybe take a look at that ankle, too."

Rose nods again, not trusting herself to speak, and they start down the sidewalk towards a block of flats. He takes her up and into a small, but nicely furnished flat, and tells her to have a seat at the table while he disappears into what she assumes is a bedroom. He returns a couple minutes later with some things in his arms, and sets them on the table before kneeling in front of her.

Rose watches as he eases the torn fabric of her pants aside so he can peer at her knee, and then he shakes his head.

"D'you mind if I cut this fabric away a bit? The trousers are already ruined, and I can't see the cut well enough to clean it properly."

"I was gonna chuck 'em in the bin when I got home anyway," Rose says, and he laughs as he pushes to stand. He steps into the kitchen and retrieves a pair of scissors from inside a drawer, and kneels in front of her again, carefully snipping around the tear.

She watches him work, her heart thrumming in her chest. Everything about him is so familiar, and it's like some cruel joke that he's her Doctor, but at the same time, not. He's just some human version of the man she loves, the man she's desperately trying to get back to. Some human version who has no idea who she is.

A hiss sneaks past her lips when he touches some antiseptic to the scrape on her knee, and he looks up at her, his eyebrows knitted together as he murmurs an apology. She shakes her head, trying to smile, but the concern in his eyes and the way he says, 'Sorry,' is like a knife to the heart.

He fixes the bandage to her knee, and then looks up at her again.

"Okay, now, let's have a look at that ankle." He carefully takes her leg in his hands and lifts it so her foot rests against his knee. Her fingers grip the back of the chair, and she swallows hard as he rolls her trouser leg up.

"Does that hurt?" he asks as he gently prods her ankle.

"Little bit," she replies, biting her lip.

"Doesn't look bruised, and doesn't feel broken, from my limited experience, but I'll wrap it up just in case, and we'll put some ice on it for a bit."

Rose nods, and John stands again, bringing another chair around and setting a small pillow on it so Rose can prop her foot up. He picks up an elastic bandage from the table, and gently wraps it around Rose's ankle, securing it in place before heading back into the kitchen for some ice.

"Thanks," Rose murmurs as he carefully lays the bag of ice on her ankle. "Not many people who'd invite a stranger into their home and take care of them like this."

"Well, I saw you fall," he says with a shrug as he brings another chair around so he can sit next to her, "and something just… told me I needed to help."

"Something?" Rose repeats, her mouth suddenly dry.

"Yeah, just something in me said, 'hey, that girl needs you.' Guess it was lucky I was walking by."

"Yeah," Rose whispers, swallowing hard. He's so close, and she's staring at him now, can't help herself, because he just looks like the Doctor, and it's not fair that he isn't.

"Why d'you keep looking at me like that?" he asks with a short laugh.

"Like what?" Rose says quickly.

"Like – like you've seen a ghost."

"You just look like someone I knew once," Rose replies, tears welling in her eyes. "Someone I –"

There's not much space between them at all, and Rose starts to lean forward, but jumps when the door opens suddenly. She twists around to see a pretty, petite brunette step into the flat, and John hurries to stand.

"Oh!" the other woman says in surprise. "John, who's this?"

"Rose, she took a bit of a nasty fall outside, so I brought her in to patch her up. Rose, this is, um, my girlfriend, Cl –"

"I should go," Rose interrupts, and pushes to stand. "I've intruded long enough –"

"No, hey, you should rest your ankle some more," John says, stepping towards her again.

"It's fine, really," Rose says, limping past the bewildered girlfriend towards the door. "It doesn't hurt that bad now."

"If you're sure," John replies uncertainly.

"Yeah. 'm fine. Thank you, really."

Rose hurries from the flat as fast as she can, and makes it outside and around the corner before she lets the tears come. She bangs her palms against the steel door of a garage, and swears loudly before leaning forward and bowing her head. Her tears dot the pavement, and she sniffles hard, trying to catch her breath, trying to make the unbearable pain in her chest go away.

After a moment, she turns around and presses her back to the door, tipping her head up. Her tears slowly stop, and she sniffles once more before leaning down to rip the bandage from her knee. She lifts her leg to unwrap the elastic from around it, and carries both to a nearby rubbish bin. The bloodied bandage from her knee gets tossed inside, but she hesitates with the elastic in her hands, and then, feeling utterly foolish, she stuffs it into the pocket of her jacket.

The device around her wrist beeps, and she shoves her sleeve up to tap the blinking light.

A split second later, she's back at Torchwood, and people swarm all around her as she hobbles off the platform.

"Hey, hey," Mickey says, fighting his way through the crowd of people. "How'd it go?"

Rose just stares at him, and he drops his gaze.

"Hey, you're injured. You should get to the infirmary –"

"I just want to go home," she says, pushing past him.

"What happened?" he calls after her. "Was it a dangerous jump?"

"Yeah," she calls back, turning to face him again. "It – it was a dangerous place. Mark it as off-limits. We can't ever go back there."

"Got it," Mickey replies, and Rose turns again, chin quivering as she walks from the room as fast as she can.

[tarithenurse]

New Years Eve

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Avenger!Reader Content: Pining, fluff, lemons. Don’t read if you’re not old enough. A/N: Refound the draft for this which I must have started back in December 2017. Thought it was about time to finish it...even if it’s not really NY Eve soon. And still...didn’t do proper proof reading. Sorry.

”The party of the year”, had been the way Tony described it when he secured your attendance for his New Years bash more than two months ago. Since then, you’d only heard rumours about the plans, and you’d been too preoccupied about getting through your solo-mission to spare a thought. That’s why you’d more than happily accepted when Wanda and Natasha had offered to sort whatever was needed that night.

Leaning back in the car seat, you really hope your two friends and co-Avengers have kept their end of the promise, whatever it might entail. No texts or calls have come your way which had been rather relaxing. For a while. Now not so much. Both Wanda and Nat are perfectly capable of being reasonable adult with common sense, but sometimes they end up in a mood where they wind each other up. Add Clint to the mix and the result will be disastrous, yet brilliant, pranking. For all you know, you might be on the way back to a cellophane covered room and a New Year’s outfit suitable for disguising the wearer as a flamingo.

...

Even after very careful inspection of your rooms, you’ve not been able to find any pranks lurking. And the outfit? It couldn’t have been better which is good because a few hours from arrival to party-start wouldn’t have left you with a whole lot of option. Why not re-use a dress or something? That’s what you normally would, but in usual Stark style the party has to be themed and this time it’s “animals” – hence the worry about the flamingo. But you’re in luck and the outfit is perfect.

More than perfect, you admit to yourself as you smooth a hand over the tightfitting number you’ve wriggled into. Tiny, faux scales in an oily-black shade is covering your body, only broken by the plunging cleavage and daring slit at along the thigh and a series of red accents that shimmer like fire across you chest and hips. Unfortunately, it does little to steel your nerves. It’s too…too…little! You feel exposed, naked.

A knock on the door barely precedes Natasha and Wanda who come barging in. They’re ready to go (one as a tiger and the other representing her alias’ namesake) and are here to put the last touches to their plan.

…

“I feel…like someone else!”

The woman staring back at you from the mirror is perfect. Dark makeup compliments the outfit (normally you’d only go as wild as mascara), and the usually unruly hair has been tamed into a surprisingly long, sleek braid that on its own looks like the snake you symbolize.

“You don’t like it?” Wanda cocks her head, causing the plushy tiger-ears to wobble endearingly.

You frown at the mirror. “I…I do! It’s just so…not how I normally look…” Do you? “That there,” you gesture helplessly, “she’s…I mean…hot and I’m not.”

“Jeez, good thing we got you sorted then.” Natasha’s adjusting the red/black corset one last time but spares a glance in your direction. “It’s about time you see what everyone else sees.”

Everyone? There’s no room in your head to consider the possible implications of that, so you try to ignore the hot bubble of nerves in your stomach. It’s just Nat and Wanda saying it. They’re your friends. Supportive, sweet, honest…but not objective. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if a couple of the guys would claim you were pretty either. Like Tony, he compliments anyone he meets on their outfits or whatnot (even if there’s nothing new about it), and Thor and Steve are the biggest sweetheart although one is quiet and the other is boisterous about it. Yeah, but what about Sam. And there you go, thinking exactly what you didn’t want to.

Sam used to be your friend. A buddy you hung out with and who showed you the ropes when you joined the Avengers. You still try to do that, but each moment around him is close to painful because you don’t see him as a casual friend anymore. You should because that’s what you guys are…but it’s not enough. What you feel for him is so much more. Trusting him with your life would be the easiest thing. And there’s no limit to what you’d do for him both in the field and outside to make sure he is safe and happy. Fuck.

“Hey! Viper, where you at?” Nat’s voice reaches through the swirling thoughts.

Both ladies are waiting at the open door, ready to head out. Mumbling an apology, you hurry after them, hoping they don’t notice your quickened breath and pulse.

“Why a black snake?” Standing in the elevator, it’s only now that it strikes you as odd. “I mean…as Viper it would make sense to use that for the animal tonight.”

“People might get suspicious,” Wanda shrugs, busy inspecting her nails.

Nat’s busy looking for something in her tiny purse but manages to talk past a thin knife: “Bwe’ide, ‘omeone elwe claimed it.”

…

You’d been lucky that there already were plenty people at the venue, meaning you could snake in between the other guests and head straight for the bar (ditching your friends at the same time).

“Gin ‘n tonic, please.”

Waiting for the drink, you look around the place. It’s busy, both at the bar running the length of the ball room, but also at the place in general. Hundreds of people are milling about, snatching canapés from trays carried by various birds (not actual birds, but waiters dressed as flamingos, cranes and so on). Huge tables with champagne pyramids is the only “classic” New Year’s theme while the place has been invaded by what appears to be an entire jungle. Lush green plants and exotic flowers create section in the large area while trees and hanging plants mingle above the heads of the guests, infiltrating the chandeliers to the point where you don’t think they will ever get free again.

“There y’are!” Nat’s smoky voice curls around you together with your arm. “Found the others by the palm trees. Steve’s a cat with yarn and all.”

It’s impossible not to take than bait, so you let her lead the way as soon as you got the cool drink in hand. They’re a sight to behold. Not just Steve the Kitten, but also Tony the Unicorn (sporting a long horn with which he attempts to skewer hors d’oeuvres when Pepper the Peacock isn’t looking) and well, probably everyone, but of course your mind is being silly and making sure to get stuck on the sight of the one person you shouldn’t watch.

Hot damn. Green scales glitter in the light as they adorn Sam’s suit, making it looks as if a viper’s curling around his body in a way you wouldn’t mind mimicking. No! I shouldn’t think that. At least he hasn’t noticed you because he’s too busy examining the rear end of Tony.

“You installed cooling?” His warm voice muffled by the fake tail hanging down.

“Wha’?! He’s got air-con?!” An edge of betrayal is powering Rhodes’ disbelief. “Man, you said I couldn’t get my exo cooled!” Hurrying over to take a look through Stark’s rear, he pushes Sam aside.

“Hey! Wa–” But Sam never gets further.

His eyes are scorching your skin but it’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. Out of sheer nervousness, you fidget with the metal straw in the drink, almost inhaling the clear liquid. Suddenly, the dress is too revealing, causing your guts to clench in a desperate plea for hiding, but the moment you try to move to get a bit behind Nat and Bucky, you feel the air breeze through the slit. Shit. Heat is rushing through your body.

“You’re looking good.” It’s Steve. “Like what Wanda and Nat have done, sticking with the venomous snake theme.” His friendly chuckle helps you soften up a bit as memories of your old life flashes by.

Growing up in the slums in the biggest city in South America had taught you a lot – even more so during the hardest periods where you stole away to survive in the jungle instead, figuring it was safer than being near the gangs and drug cartels. In hindsight, neither option could’ve been considered safe, but that was at least you learned enough to eventually take up the fight. Try to protect innocent people from the violent crime lords. That’s how you’d gotten onto the Avengers’ radar. Why they came to capture you. It was a good thing Clint had been there on that trip because he convinced the others to bring you back.

“Thanks. Feels odd not to wear something more…practical.”

A broad smile flashes. “I get it. Penguin suits are fine, but they aren’t made for moving.”

“That too.” Need to get away. “’Scuse me.”

Slipping away between the myriad of guests, you circle the room once while pretending to admire the decorations. In reality, you’re scoping the place for quiet corners and easy escape routes. But soon enough your feet are carrying you back to the bar for a refill. From there it’s possible to see most of the room…including the random flashes of a familiar green. My colour.

…

How can it not be near midnight?! It’s never been this awkward hanging out with the team. Sure, the chatting and fun is still going on…it’s just you that finds it hard to feel comfortable in your own skin as long as your near Sam. You’d tried talking to him, pretending everything’s fine. Normal. No unrequited love tearing you up from the inside, making it feel like someone has dripped your old venoms straight into your heart.

So you try to spend your time on the dance floor where no one expects you to carry on a conversation as you can lose yourself in the rhythms. Otherwise it’s the bar that calls, luring you with cold G&Ts until your head is buzzing comfortably. Not drunk…because you never know what can happen. 4th of July was bad, you remember, pushing the ice cubes around in the tall glass.

A delicate but strong hand clamps onto your shoulder, startling you.

“Relax, hon, just me.” The redhead takes a seat beside you. “Do you want me to ask or are you just gonna talk?”

“’Bout what?”

You don’t even have to look at her to know she’s rolling the eyes. “Why you moping.”

“Oh.” The straw clinks against your teeth. She’s bluffing. “Ask away. Doesn’t mean I got anything to tell.”

Somehow managing not to spill the martini, Nat whips around to face you. “Right, of course not. ‘Cause it’s not like you’ve been harbouring a huge crush on a special gentleman.” Your glare doesn’t discourage her. “Maybe you should consider why the viper was taken so quickly.” And with that she floats away, drink in one hand and hips swaying elegantly to the music.

…

Dancing with Steve is an interesting experience: as physically gifted as he may be, this is one thing he has a hard time getting the hang on although he does his best to follow your instructions while both of you are grinning like fools, the ending of the song still brings a certain relief. Until you turn around straight into Sam’s arms. For a second, he seems just as baffled as you do, but then his trademark crooked grin lights up his face.

“Guess there’s no way about it now…wanna dance?” A warm hand is already skimming along your hip although the other waits for your decision.

It’s odd how perfectly his fingers fit around yours, how his arms seem to create a bubble of calmness that seeps into you until your breath is even and your heartbeat follows an unheard rhythm. Fingers with blood-red nails slither across venomous-green faux scales until coming to a rest on Sam’s shoulder.

“Didn’t know you liked that colour.” It looks amazing on him. “You should use it in your uniform.”

They’re playing an old Frank Sinatra song that you’ve heard a million times, allowing your brain to switch off and Sam to lead you effortlessly.

“I’ve thought about it…didn’t wanna to steal from you, tho’.”

He twirls you in his arms before dipping you, causing your heart to pound rapidly against the ribs so hard he might hear it (especially considering how close to your cleavage his ear is). Not like you haven’t stolen anything already.

“Oh, is that so?” Pulling you back up, chest against chest, it’s evident that you must have spoken your thoughts. “What’d I steal, babe?”

Babe. Sure, he’s used nicknames before. He’s the master of thinking up witty monikers for everyone on the team and failing that there’s always the classical endearments which he freely uses for everyone. This time, though, it’s spoken in a soft purr that makes it sound anything like the usual banter. You can’t take your eyes off him as your try to kick your brain back into action. A quick sweep of the tongue to get your mouth working brings back the taste of lipstick and G&T, brings Sam’s focus onto the red colour adorning your lips and his eyes darken momentarily.

Maybe you should consider why the viper was taken so quickly. Nat’s words echo in your mind and small details that you’ve never really given much thought start to fall into place. The way Sam always makes sure there’s a spot on the couch on movie nights, or how he somehow checks in a bit more frequently on missions than with the others. He even knows how you like your tea and coffee, despite the fact that you aren’t sure yourself.

“Sam…” you bite your bottom lip, still nervous.

“[Y/N]?”

Somewhere outside the bubble he’s created, the music is still playing, and people are getting closer to the new year, but inside, it’s just the two of you standing closer than humanly possible, allowing your lips to brush easily over his. Maybe the soft sigh is from him, it doesn’t matter. Just the fact that he recaptures your lips to deepen the kiss is important. His hand travels up the back to cradle your neck, the other arm drawing you closer.

…

The party is far away across town when the new year approaches. Clothes are discarded around the familiar room as Sam looks at you from under heavy lips. His hand is resting on your head that bobs slowly in unison with your hand. Each time the tip of your tongue twirls around the crown of his cock he hums in approval and you can feel his muscles work under the free hand you’re supporting yourself with partially.

His erection twitches as moans become groans, maybe spurred on at the quiet laughter you can’t hold back. It’s exhilarating to have such power over him, but next moment it’s gone as he pulls your away. Sam’s got you on your back quicker than you’d anticipated, lips trailing hot over the goosebumps covering your body and then…then he’s the one in control as mouth, tongue and fingers play you like an instrument, coaxing sounds from you that increasingly sound like his name. Sound like begging.

Your limbs are shaking when he pulls you onto his lap. Hands on your hips, the gorgeous man allows you to set the pace after he has aligned the throbbing cock with your wet core, and as you finally glide down the shaft, as he fills you up more than anyone has before, both of you cling on.

Open mouths breathing hard. Sweat glistening on skin. Moans. Strangled cries of pleasure. Partially suspended above your arching body, your name tumbles from Sam’s lips while his hips rock into you. Harder, faster. Your legs are on the verge of cramping from the iron hold around his waist, ankles locking behind his backs while your nails are digging into his shoulder blades.

Outside the window, fireworks light up the night sky, their explosions nearly drowned out by his name as you both tumble over the edge and into the hazy sea of bliss.