#Completed all 18 chapters in the time it would take me to finish one dr chapter. And it was a masterpiece.

[kosmical]

just finished ghost trick

[brunchable]

𝐌𝐫. 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞: Stucky x F!Reader

Part Two Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!reader, Steve Rogers x f!reader | Daughter of Thaddeus Ross (Red Hulk) Words: 5.4K Themes: Forbidden Reader, Love Triangle, M for Mature, 18+ , Post-Endgame, AGE GAP (24y/o reader). Summary: Bucky Barnes expected another typical therapy session, but the moment he meets Y/N, a sharp and unflinching therapist who doesn’t back down, everything changes. Used to keeping people at arm’s length, Bucky finds himself intrigued by her resilience and the way she sees right through his walls. A/N: I am also obsessed with Bucky ok? I can't leave him out. I will not use "chapter" for now because IDEK how long this will be. Let me know if you want to be tagged. Ciao.

Bucky entered the therapist’s office, expecting the usual routine with Dr. Raynor. But when he saw a younger woman sitting on the couch, legs crossed, glasses perched on her nose, he froze. She was scribbling in a notebook, completely absorbed in whatever she was writing. His eyes swept over her—pencil skirt, white blouse with the top two buttons undone. Definitely not Raynor.

Raynor was a pain in the ass enough, but now they're throwing this at me? Bucky thought, his jaw tightening as he watched her quietly scribble in her notebook. He wasn’t sure if this was some kind of test or another attempt to “catch him off guard.” His whole life had been one test after another, and this—this felt like just another trick up their sleeve.

Great, he thought bitterly, as if I haven’t been poked and prodded enough. Now I’m supposed to open up to someone who probably just finished med school.

The calm way she sat there, so sure of herself, made him itch with irritation. He couldn’t figure her out, and he hated that. Was she here to push him harder than Raynor? Or was this just another bureaucratic move to switch things up, like changing therapists would suddenly crack him open? 

What’s next? A therapy dog? His mind was racing, constantly searching for the next hit, the next blow. He felt like they were always trying to break him down bit by bit, like he was still their weapon. 

But this? This is just insulting. He didn’t know what to make of her, or what she could possibly do for him, but his instincts were already screaming to keep his guard up, to watch her carefully. There was always something more to these situations. Always a catch.

"Did they lose my file or something?" Bucky raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You don’t look old enough to be out of med school, let alone help me with… this." His words came out dripping with sarcasm, testing her right from the start.

Y/N didn’t look up immediately, taking her time as she finished writing something in her notebook. When she finally met his gaze, she adjusted her glasses slightly, then pointed to the couch with her eyes.

"I assure you, Sergeant Barnes, you’re in the right place," she said, her voice calm and even. "If you’d like to sit down, we can get started."

Bucky paused, the smirk still playing on his lips. He scanned the room, as if making sure he hadn’t walked into the wrong office, then sauntered toward the couch opposite her. He dropped down, stretching out his legs lazily, crossing his arms over his chest, still eyeing her with playful suspicion.

"Right place, huh? Are you sure about that?" He chuckled. "Didn’t realize they sent kids to do the hard jobs these days."

"Lucky for you, I’m not a kid. But if you’re hoping for someone older, I’m sure you can take it up with the front desk. Or we could just get started, your call."

Bucky’s smirk widened slightly, impressed by the way she shot back at him. He leaned back on the couch, arms crossed. "Alright then, since you’re apparently the expert. What’s the plan here? Gonna wave a magic wand, make all my problems go away?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, meeting his sarcasm head-on. "No magic wand. Just work. But something tells me you’re not afraid of a little hard work, are you?"

That caught him off guard. He was used to deflecting with humor, but she wasn’t backing down. In fact, she seemed perfectly comfortable in this verbal sparring match.

"Hard work, huh?" He leaned forward slightly, his tone softening but still sarcastic. "And here I thought you were here to hand me a quick fix."

Y/N smiled ever so slightly, just enough to show she wasn’t intimidated. "I don’t do quick fixes. That’s for amateurs."

Bucky stared at her for a moment, genuinely impressed despite himself. He had expected someone more nervous, someone he could easily rattle. But this woman? She wasn’t having any of it.

"Alright, doc," he said, nodding slightly, acknowledging her stance. "You’ve got my attention. What’s next?"

Y/N adjusted her glasses, flipping a page in her notebook. "Next? We talk about your progress. Or, we can sit here in silence while you continue throwing sarcastic remarks at me. I’m good with either option."

"You think I’m just gonna spill my guts? It doesn’t work like that."

"I didn’t expect it to.”

"I’m fine with silence.”

Bucky muttered, his eyes flicking to the window as if contemplating an escape. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about himself. Especially not with someone like her—someone so young and… focused.

Leaning forward slightly, his playful look faded into something darker—a cold, calculating stare. His blue eyes locked onto hers, hard and unblinking, as he gave her the same menacing look that had unnerved countless soldiers and enemies. It was the stare that said he wasn’t someone to mess with.

Most people would have flinched by now, maybe glanced away or shown some kind of discomfort. But Y/N didn’t move. She didn’t flinch. She met his icy stare head-on, calm and unwavering.

Seconds ticked by then into minutes. Bucky’s gaze bore into hers, daring her to crack under the pressure. But she didn’t blink. Didn’t shift in her seat. She held his stare, unshaken.

As Bucky realized she wasn’t going to back down. He clenched his jaw tighter, leaning in even more, his menacing stare intensifying. And still—nothing. Y/N just stared back at him. After what felt like an eternity, Bucky scoffed, the sound low and begrudgingly amused. He leaned back into the couch, letting out a breath.

"Well, I’ll be damned," he muttered, clearly impressed. His smirk returned, but this time, it was less mocking and more intrigued. "You didn’t even blink."

"I’ve seen worse," she shrugged.

"Most people can’t handle the stare," he said, a hint of admiration creeping into his voice. Bucky stared at her for a moment longer, still processing that she hadn’t buckled under his intimidation. 

"I’m not most people," Y/N replied, her gaze still locked on his.

"You’re not, huh?” Bucky let out another short scoff, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension between them gradually easing. Bucky leaned forward, rubbing his hands together as if contemplating his next move.

"Alright," he finally muttered, his voice quieter now, the edge of defiance softening. "Let’s get started."

× × × ×

Bucky walked down the street, hands deep in his pockets, his mind still stuck on the therapy session with Y/N. He couldn't shake the image of her holding her ground against his menacing stare. Most people crumbled under that.

He was impressed. Hell, maybe even a little thrown off by it.

He reached a small café, the door chimed as he walked in. He’d been coming here for weeks, liking how quiet it was. Bucky slid into a booth in the corner, the furthest one from the entrance, his usual spot. The place was small, quiet—barely anyone noticed him here. That was what he liked. No eyes following him. No whispers.

As he sat down, he glanced at the menu out of habit, though he already knew what he wanted. He tapped his fingers against the table, feeling the hum of anxiety still coursing through him. His thoughts wandered back to Y/N’s. Her refusal to let him dictate the session. It had been a long time since someone had stood their ground with him.

“Same as usual?” the waitress asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. Same.”

The door chimed again, and out of reflex, Bucky glanced up. His eyes landed on her—Y/N. But she was different now. She was dressed in a casual sweater and jeans, her hair down, and the serious, composed demeanor was nowhere to be found. She looked relaxed. For a moment, Bucky frowned. Was this the same woman from earlier?

She hadn’t noticed him yet, busy ordering her coffee at the counter. As she turned, their eyes met, and for a split second, surprise flickered in her gaze. Then she smiled. 

It wasn’t a polite, professional smile like the one she had in the office—it was real, warm. Bucky had to admit, she was even more beautiful when she smiled like that. She made her way over to him, her expression soft and light, a stark contrast to how she’d been before.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she greeted with an amused smile. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Didn’t expect to see you either. You got a twin or something?” Bucky leaned back, trying to hide the fact that her smile had thrown him. He gave her a skeptical look, still trying to wrap his mind around the shift in her demeanor.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. “Nope. Just me.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You sure? Because you’re not exactly giving off the same ‘don’t mess with me’ vibe as you did earlier.”

“I save that for the office.” She laughed lightly, the sound catching him off guard again.

Bucky blinked, still half-convinced she had to be a different person. “You’re… different outside of work.”

Y/N smiled again, and Bucky couldn’t help but notice how that smile completely transformed her. The serious, no-nonsense therapist was gone. 

“Therapist mode can be intense,” she said, settling into the seat across from him. “Gotta decompress too, you know.”

“Decompress, huh?” Bucky muttered, still eyeing her. “I wasn’t sure you even knew how to.”

“Oh, trust me, I do,” she said with a grin. “You think I’m a robot in the office?”

“Was starting to wonder. . .”

She laughed again, shaking her head as she took a sip of her coffee. “Nope. Just human.”

Bucky stared at her for a moment, taking in how much more approachable she seemed now. The difference between the Y/N sitting across from him now and the one who had held her ground in the office was stark. He hadn’t expected to see her like this—relaxed, smiling, laughing. It was almost disarming.

“You’re hard to figure out,” he said, still trying to process the shift.

She shrugged lightly. “That’s part of the job, isn’t it?”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of the café filling the space. Bucky glanced at her again, her soft smile lingering in his mind. He wasn’t sure why, but seeing her like this, outside of the serious office atmosphere, made him feel… at ease.

Eventually, Y/N glanced at her watch. “I should get going. Got other plans.”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, same.”

She stood, grabbing her cup. She paused for a moment, then gave him one last smile—a sweet one, the kind that lit up her whole face, making her seem even more different than the woman who had stared him down earlier.

“See you at the next session?” she asked.

Bucky chuckled, half-joking, "Hm, I don’t know."

Her smile didn’t waver. If anything, it deepened, her eyes holding him with a quiet confidence. "I will see you, Sergeant Barnes," she said, her voice more insistent this time, not leaving room for doubt.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, shaking his head slightly, "What’s the point of asking then?”

As she walked out of the café, Bucky leaned back in his seat, shaking his head with a small smile. She had completely thrown him. Her smile, her relaxed demeanor—it was all so different from what he’d expected. For a moment, he wondered if she really did have a twin. But then again, maybe she was just someone with more layers than he’d first realized.

And he found himself eager to know more.

× × × ×

Steve Rogers wasn’t sure how he had gotten talked into this. Well, actually, he knew exactly how—Sam Wilson had dragged him along to this party, claiming Steve needed to “loosen up” and enjoy life more. But standing in the middle of a loud, flashing room with music pounding in his ears, Steve wondered if he should have pushed harder to stay home.

"Come on, Cap," Sam had said with a mischievous grin as they walked through the entrance earlier. "You’ve been in retirement long enough. Time to see what the world’s been up to while you were busy saving it."

Steve stood near the bar now, trying to blend in, his eyes scanning the room. People were dancing wildly, laughing, and having fun in the swirling haze of strobe lights. It was a far cry from the kinds of parties he had attended back in the 1940s—those had been calm, slow, and filled with small talk and jazz music. 

This? This was chaos.

Steve shifted uncomfortably. He had barely touched his drink when Sam elbowed him from the side, laughing. “You look like you’re plotting an escape route. Relax, Cap. Have fun.”

Before Steve could respond, Sam was swept into the crowd by some friends, leaving Steve standing alone by the bar. Even in the anonymity of the darkened room, Steve still attracted attention. His broad shoulders, strong jawline, and quietly confident presence drew glances from several women who were passing by. The strobe lights occasionally highlighted his features, and more than a few curious eyes lingered on him as he stood by the bar.

“Hey there,” she said, leaning in slightly, her voice loud to be heard over the music. “You look like you’re way too good-looking to be standing here alone.”

Steve smiled politely, keeping his distance. “Just here with some friends,” he said, not giving much away.

She stepped a little closer, her eyes lingering on him. “Well, maybe I could keep you company?”

Steve chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Thanks, but I’m good. Just enjoying the night.”

She looked a little surprised but shrugged it off with a casual smile. “Your loss,” she said with a wink, before disappearing back into the crowd.

Steve let out a small breath, his shoulders relaxing as she left. He wasn’t here for that kind of attention, though it seemed inevitable. He glanced around, hoping to spot Sam or Bucky, but before he could move, another woman approached.

He was just about to step away from the bar when another woman, a petite brunette with a mischievous smile, appeared beside him. 

“I’ve seen you reject at least ten girls in the last ten minutes,” she said, her voice teasing. “Either you’ve got impossibly high standards or you’re just too shy to admit you’re having fun.”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Neither, really. Just here with some friends. Trying to keep a low profile.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “A guy like you, keeping a low profile? Good luck with that.”

Steve smiled, nodding toward the crowd. “Seems like it’s working so far.”

The woman laughed, but before she could say more, the crowd surged again, and someone bumped into Steve, almost spilling his drink. 

“Sorry about that,” a voice said, half-shouting over the music.

Steve turned and caught a glimpse of another woman, this one different from the others. She was barely recognizable in the strobe lights, her features blurred by the darkness, but something about the way she carried herself caught his attention. She didn’t linger too long on him, and didn't try too hard. Her smile was brief but real.

“No problem,” Steve replied, raising his voice to be heard over the music. 

“Not your scene?” she asked, leaning a little closer to be heard.

“Not exactly,” Steve admitted, putting a finger in to cover one ear.

She laughed lightly, stepping closer, her eyes catching the light for a brief second. “Same. My friend dragged me here. I’m pretty sure she thinks I need to ‘loosen up’.”

“Guess we’re in the same boat,” Steve said, feeling a bit more at ease. She had a warmth in her voice, even amidst the chaos.

Before either of them could say more, a group of partygoers surged by, and one of them grabbed Y/N’s hand, pulling her toward the dance floor. She was caught off guard, stumbling a bit before turning back toward Steve, her hand still caught in the wave.

“Come on!” she shouted over the music, her face lit up with a playful grin.

“No—I don’t think—”

Steve hesitated. He wasn’t much of a dancer—especially not in a place like this—but before he could protest, Y/N grabbed his hand, tugging him into the crowd. The pulsing rhythm of the music pounded in his chest as they were swept into the moving mass of people. The lights flashed wildly, and before Steve knew it, he was dancing, caught up in the infectious energy of the room.

Y/N laughed as they moved, her hand still in his, and Steve found himself smiling despite the overwhelming atmosphere. The strobe lights flickered, casting everything in flashes of light and shadow, and for a moment, it was easy to forget who he was, to forget the weight he usually carried.

Steve didn’t have time to react before he found himself right behind her, the sea of people pushing them closer together. The music pounded through the room, the heavy bass vibrating under their feet. Steve felt her back press against his chest, her body swaying in time with the beat.

The lights flashed, casting her in and out of shadow, but Steve was caught in the moment. She moved to the music effortlessly, her hips swinging in rhythm, her back brushing against him with every movement. He felt the warmth of her body through his shirt, the closeness sparking something inside him he hadn’t expected.

The lyrics of the song echoed through the room: “I, I, I, I just want to watch you when you take it off, take off all your makeup, baby, take it off. . . I just wanna watch you when you take it off, take off all your clothes and watch you take them off.”

Y/N's body moved in perfect sync with the music, and Steve, despite his hesitation, found himself falling into the rhythm. Her hips pressed against him, swaying seductively in time with the beat. He hesitated for a moment before resting his hands lightly on her hips, unsure but drawn in by the intensity of the moment.

The crowd pushed them even closer together, and Steve’s grip on her hips tightened instinctively. She didn’t pull away; instead, she leaned into him, moving her body against his, teasing, playful, completely in tune with the energy of the music. Her head tilted slightly, her hair brushing against his neck, and Steve felt his pulse quicken.

She bit her lower lip, glancing back at him through the lights, a playful spark in her eyes. Steve’s breath caught, his hands sliding up slightly from her waist as their bodies continued to move together. The energy between them was electric, like nothing he’d ever felt before. The music drowned out everything but the pounding of his heart and the feel of her body so close to his.

Suddenly, the crowd pushed them even closer, and in the heat of the moment, Y/N turned her head slightly, her lips brushing against his cheek. It was a brief touch, but it sent a shock through him. His grip tightened on her hips, and before either of them could think, their movements slowed, the tension between them peaking.

“I just can't wait to see it all I'm so turned on”

Y/N turned her head fully, her lips finding his in a fast, unexpected kiss. His lips were unexpectedly soft. They parted-in surprise, she thought and then she slipped her tongue inside. It had been forever since she'd done this, never had she done this, but it came to her like breathing. It was electric, quick, but charged with the energy of the moment. 

Steve’s world narrowed to just the two of them—the music, the lights, the crowd—all vanished as her lips met his. He stopped her, just for a moment, then flipped it, deepening the kiss with a flick of his tongue and a firm grip on her hip. Now it was him kissing her, her soft sigh filling the space between them. He responded with heat, his desire matching the unexpected pleasure he found in her.

The kiss only lasted a moment, but it left both of them breathless. Y/N pulled back, her eyes wide with surprise, like she hadn’t expected it either. They were still close, her breath mingling with his as they caught their bearings.

Before either of them could speak, Y/N's friends found her and pulled her with them unaware of Steve, and she was swept away, disappearing into the throng of dancers. Steve stood there, frozen for a second, his heart still racing from the kiss, his hands still tingling from where he’d touched her.

He blinked, trying to steady himself, but she was already gone, lost in the mass of people. The music still pounded around him, the lights still flashed, but all Steve could focus on was the ghost of her lips on his and the wild, unexpected energy of the night.

Steve shook his head, still trying to process what had just happened. The kiss, the way her body had fit so perfectly against his—it was all too new, too different. The way young people dance these days, he thought, he can’t believe he allowed himself to be dragged like that. It was nothing like what he was used to. He exhaled slowly, needing a moment to collect his thoughts. Pushing through the crowd, he scanned the room for Sam. He was going to get an earful for this.

Steve spotted Sam by the bar, laughing with a couple of friends, and beside him was Bucky, nursing a drink and quietly observing the room. Steve made his way over, still feeling the lingering heat of the moment and trying his best to shake it off.

Sam noticed him approaching and immediately grinned, raising his drink in greeting. “There he is! Our man of the hour!” Sam shouted over the music, his voice laced with amusement.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his expression more reserved but no less curious.

“I don’t know about that,” Steve rolled his eyes, but there was no hiding the slight flush still creeping up his neck. 

Sam’s grin widened as he leaned in closer. “Come on, Cap, you’ve got that look on your face. What happened?”

Steve hesitated for a moment, debating whether or not to tell them. But Sam already knew him too well, and Bucky… well, there was no escaping his sharp gaze either.

“Nothing,” Steve said with a shrug, hoping to play it off.

“Uh-huh,” Sam said, narrowing his eyes. 

“Nothing, huh?” He took a sip of his drink, but the teasing gleam in his eyes was unmistakable. “Didn’t look like ‘nothing’ when I saw you on the dance floor with… what’s her name?”

Steve’s eyes widened slightly, “You saw that?”

Sam burst out laughing, slapping Steve on the shoulder. “Oh, I saw it. The whole room probably saw it! You were practically glued to her!”

Steve groaned, rubbing his forehead. “It wasn’t like that.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, still grinning. “Oh, really? Because from where I was standing, it looked like you were having a little too much fun.”

Steve shot him a glare, but the way Sam wiggled his eyebrows made it impossible to stay serious. 

Bucky, still quiet, finally smirked. “You’re not exactly blending into the background there, punk.”

“It just… happened, alright?” Steve admitted, his voice trailing off as he tried to explain. “We were dancing, and the crowd kept pushing us together. And then…”

“And then you kissed her!” Sam finished for him, laughing again. “Oh man, Cap, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I didn’t kiss her! She kissed me! It just happened—like in the heat of the moment.”

“Yeah, because ‘heat of the moment’ sounds nothing like you.” Bucky chuckled, finally downing his alcohol.

Steve shot him a look, “Who's side are you on?”

“The ‘heat of the moment’? You mean to tell me you got caught up in the lights and music and had your little dance-floor moment? That’s priceless!” Sam was practically doubled over with laughter now.

“It wasn’t like that. I didn’t even know her.” Steve couldn’t help but crack a smile despite the teasing. 

Sam straightened up, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Doesn’t matter, man. That’s what makes it even better! You don’t know her, and you still ended up in some steamy dance-floor kiss? That’s wild for you.”

Steve groaned again, but the smile tugging at his lips was undeniable.

“Well, I’ll say this,” Sam said, leaning in closer with a sly grin. “You’re full of surprises, Cap. I thought you’d be sitting in a corner all night, but instead, you’re out here stealing kisses in the middle of a crowd.”

“Okay, fine. It was… unexpected. But I wasn’t exactly complaining.”

Sam raised both eyebrows in mock surprise. “Unexpected, huh? Is that what we’re calling it when you’re practically glued to someone in the middle of a party? I mean, the way you two were moving—if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were auditioning for a music video.”

Steve sighed, but a part of him couldn’t help but feel amused at the whole situation. He never expected to get caught up in something like that. 

“I didn’t even get her name,” he said, almost to himself.

Bucky tilted his head. “Classic.”

Sam’s grin softened into a knowing smile. “Well, maybe that’s the universe telling you it’s time to loosen up a little. Enjoy the ride.”

Steve smirked, shaking his head. “Maybe.”

Sam clapped him on the back again. “Look, Cap, you’ve spent your whole life saving the world. You deserve to have moments like that. Maybe even more than most people.”

Steve couldn’t argue with that. The memory of her lips on his, the way their bodies had moved together—it wasn’t something he was likely to forget anytime soon.

Sam raised his glass in a mock toast. “Here’s to Captain America, finally letting loose.”

“I don’t think I’m cut out for this.” Steve chuckled and clinked his glass against Sam and Bucky's.

“You’re doing just fine, Cap,” Sam said with a wink. “Just fine.”

+ + + +

Y/N’s heels clicked against the smooth marble floors of the mansion’s foyer as she unlocked the door and stepped inside. The security system beeped, and she casually entered the code, the familiar beep fading into silence. The house was large, quiet, and pristine—almost too quiet after the chaos of the party.

She kicked off her heels, phone pressed to her ear as she continued her animated conversation with her best friend.

“I’m telling you, it was insane,” Y/N laughed, still buzzing from the energy of the night. “I don’t even know how I ended up on the dance floor, but there I was, dancing like I had no care in the world. And, oh my god, there was this guy...”

She paused, biting her lip at the memory of the mysterious man she’d danced with. The lights had made it impossible to see him clearly, but the way he moved, how his hands had felt on her hips—it sent a thrill through her just thinking about it.

“I didn’t catch his name,” she continued, flopping onto the plush couch in the living room. “But we were so close, and when we kissed... girl, I don’t even know what came over me.”

Her friend gasped on the other end of the line, clearly invested in every word. “Wait, you kissed him? Who are you right now?”

“I don’t know!” Y/N laughed again—almost squealing, “It was one of those wild party moments, you know? The music was loud, people were everywhere, and then—boom—his lips were on mine.”

“Omg, didn’t you get his number?”

“No.” She frowned then she smiled to herself, enjoying the carefree thrill of the memory. “Honestly, I thought I’d regret it, but no. Imagine that? My dad would kill me.”

As she continued recounting the night, a slight rustling from the other side of the room made her pause. Y/N looked up, her heart skipping a beat as she realized she wasn’t alone. In the doorway stood Thaddeus Ross, her father, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

He cleared his throat loudly, the sound cutting through the excited chatter still flowing from her phone. Y/N froze for a moment, her eyes widening as she realized she’d been caught mid-party recap in her usually reserved father’s presence.

Her friend’s voice buzzed in her ear, still going on about the party, but Y/N quickly pulled the phone away, muttering, “I’ll call you back,” before hanging up. The excitement drained from her face, replaced by a nervous smile.

“Dad,” Y/N greeted, forcing a casual smile. “Didn’t know you’d be home.”

“Apparently, you didn’t. Sounded like quite the party.” Thaddeus Ross narrowed his eyes slightly, stepping further into the room.

Y/N stood, suddenly aware of how much she’d let herself unwind. She straightened her clothes and tried to appear nonchalant. “It was just a party with some friends. No big deal.”

Thaddeus arched an eyebrow. “Friends?”

“Yeah, friends. You know, just... normal people.” Y/N shrugged, trying to downplay the whole thing.

Thaddeus studied her for a moment, his eyes sharp, as if trying to piece together the details she hadn’t given him. 

“I see,” he finally said, his tone unreadable. “It sounded a bit more... involved than your usual nights out.”

Y/N swallowed, brushing off the heat rising in her cheeks. “It was just for fun, Dad. Nothing to worry about.”

He didn’t respond immediately, just gave her a long, assessing look. 

“You know how important it is to keep certain parts of your life secure, Y/N,” he said in that familiar, commanding tone of his. “People might take advantage if they know too much about who you really are.”

Y/N gave him a playful smile, trying to brush off his seriousness. “Dad, I’m 24. I should be out there kissing strangers at parties by now, right?”

Thaddeus didn’t smile. He simply sighed, crossing his arms tighter over his chest. 

“I wasn’t wearing a neon sign that said ‘Mr. President’s Daughter’ on it. It was just a party. I’m allowed to have fun.” Y/N rolled her eyes, her tone still light but more pointed now.

Thaddeus didn’t seem to be swayed by her attempt to joke. “Having fun is one thing, but keeping yourself safe is another. You may think these parties are harmless, but they aren’t always what they seem.”

“Dad, relax. I know how to keep myself out of trouble. I mean, come on, I live here, don’t I? No one’s getting past your fortress.” Y/N sighed, but her smile remained. 

Thaddeus gave her a long, measured look, as if deciding how much more to say. Finally, he relented just slightly, his voice softening. “It’s not just about the security, Y/N. It’s about the people you surround yourself with.”

Y/N softened her tone too, standing up to face him. “I get it, Dad. I know you’re just looking out for me, but I’m not going to live in fear. I can take care of myself.”

Thaddeus didn’t reply right away, his eyes flicking to the security system panel before returning to her. “Just... be careful. Not everyone you meet at those parties will have good intentions.”

“I know, Dad. I promise I’ll be careful.” Y/N nodded, her earlier playfulness giving way to a more serious understanding. 

Thaddeus gave a short nod, clearly not fully convinced but unwilling to push the conversation any further tonight. “Good. Just remember what I said.”

He turned and left the room, leaving Y/N standing there with the lingering weight of his words. As the tension dissolved, she let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “I’m 24,” she muttered to herself, smiling at the absurdity of the situation.

“I heard that!” Thaddeus yelled from another area of the house.

“You were supposed to!” 

Despite everything, the memory of the night—the music, the dancing, the kiss—still played in her mind, and she couldn’t help but smile.

Next Chapter

[hidden-poet]

S. lands on top; 5

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

Darkest content I have ever written. Please don't read unless you are 100% comfortable (and over 18).

Warnings: Graphic sex, violent sex, borderline torture, r*pe, over stimulation, Coriolanus is terrible, terrible, terrible, sexual assault, sex being weaponized, hitting, name calling, punishments, objectification, 18+ ONLY, Coriolanus figures out new kinks (I figure out new kinks), not a safe environment.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

Author's note: I am in no way condoning this type of behavior. This is a pure work of fiction used to explore a safe, and unrealistic feterisation of the desirability and not the actual act in itself. I am sexualizing the character Coriolanus Snow, and not Tom Bylth (I mean no disrespect or objectification to actor).

That being said, I am going to need some love on this chapter if there is a desire out there to read this sort of stuff in a safe environment and contained atmosphere. What you read cannot harm you, unless you are irresponsible and do not take measures to look after your mental and physical health. This is fiction and SHOULD NOT be brought into the real world. I can create more, but will not if it is not wanted or used responsibly.

chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

 Coriolanus sat at his writing desk, completing his last assignment before the break as Mabel lay across the bed, supposed to be completing her own homework. 

But she seemed lost in thought. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. Coriolanus had given up on chastising her long ago. 

Between organizing the games, attending lectures and keeping up with his course work, Coriolanus had no time to play games with Mabel. No matter how tempting she was.

 The break would be well deserved and well used. 

Completing this last assignment would free Coriolanus to focus on Mabel and her behavior. Reaping Day was only a week away, and she was inadequate to be presented to Dr. Gaul.

She knew that Reaping Day had consequences for the both of them. He told her time and time again of the dangers of Dr. Gaul, but the fight is what kept Mabel alive. If she rolled over for him once, she felt she might be stuck there.

Coriolanus could hear her as she moved off the bed. He was about to demand that she sit back down and complete her work but her footsteps made their way over to him and not out the door. 

It was the first time she had ever approached him without the intent to hurt him. It was a welcome change when she swung her leg around his waist and not a punch.  

So he put down his pen to give her his full attention, eager to see how this would play out. 

She sat on his lap, twining her small fingers into the curls of his hair. Her green eyes stared back bravely into intimidating blue ones. 

“All you ever do is work,” she states. Her voice carries a seductive tone. “No wonder you’re crazy.” 

His hips buck up into her in desperation. He scolds himself for it. He had more self-control than that. 

“Are you offering a study break?”

“I am offering you the night of your life.” 

He had no idea where this change was coming from. Just this morning she deliberately knocked a pot of hot tea onto his lap. Luckily, it had cooled enough not to burn him but it angered him all the same. 

Now she was offering herself to him. He knew it was a trick. She was playing the only card she had after fighting for so long to keep it. 

He goes to kiss her, testing how much he could get out of this.

His head is yanked back, her hands digging into his hair to keep him at bay. 

“For a train ride back home.” Mabel finished. 

His lips curl up into a smirk. He could almost laugh at her.

“Think about it, Coriolanus. You’ll bore of me sooner or later,” she begins to grind her hips into his. He fights to keep his focus. 

“This, what you feel now. It’ll be gone.” His hands catch her hips to stop her moving. Her tongue was her weapon, and his clear head was his.

“But it’s here now. You could have it.” She yanks his head back as far as she could but follows with her lips hovering over his.

He thinks about just lying. After all, there was no obligation to keep any promise he gives her. 

But he did want a relationship with Mabel, one that had a certain level of trust. She would do nothing for him without trust. And there would be no chance of her teaming up with him against Dr. Gaul. He remembers how important trust is in District 12. 

Satisfaction now could result in negative long term consequences. And Coriolanus was in this for the long term. 

She moves her lips to the shell of his ear and begins to speak gently into it. 

“You could think about me for years. Marry a pretty Capitol girl but think of me as you fuck her.” Her body was pressed tightly against him but she managed to squeeze a hand between them and knead his inner thigh.  “Think of this night, when a District girl fucked your brains out for hours.”

Coriolanus pushes her back by her shoulders. It was almost too much for him. His lust clouded his judgment. He needed to regain control, she had snatched it from him so easily. He was going to be President of Panem. Now was the time to show the cunningness it took to control. 

“I’ll be gone by morning, and you could keep the memory of me. Forget the struggles and fights. When you bore, that’ll be all that's left.” 

Coriolanus reaches out to take her chin in between his forefinger and thumb. Restricting her movements as she did to him. 

‘‘When I get bored of you, I’ll pass you along to someone else. Plinth seemed to have taken a shine to you. Maybe you Districts can bond over the home you’ll never see again.”

His words angered her, he could see it in her eyes. He wasn’t sure if he would ever bore of this. The constant power struggle. He loved it. Winning control gave him such a thrill. He loved the fight Mabel put up because he was always going to win it. He was stronger, smarter. He had  every card and she had none. Yet her nature made surrender an implausible possibility, and his competitive nature never tired of the defeat. 

“Maybe,” she spat as she tore herself from his lap, “Maybe, he might finally make me come too.” 

She threw herself back down on the bed amongst her school work. 

Her words should have upset him, he knew she came more often than not, prided himself on the fact. His ego wasn’t bruised, instead a thrill ran through him. The resistance and consequences were the most fun. 

—---------------

The next day, Coriolanus excused himself from work, claiming he had a cold. It was only midday but his tired colleagues were supportive of him going home. They all hoped that it would lead to an early mark for all of them. Sickness was contagious, it was possible for them all to have one too.

To Coriolanus’s luck, Dr. Gaul was traveling through the Districts, marking the best spots to host the Reapings. So she wasn’t there to witness Coriolanus act like a desperate school boy.

He was sure word would get to her as it always did, but there was no cold hard stare dissuading him now. 

Tigris wouldn’t be home from work until 5:30, and Grandma’am wouldn’t be home long after that. The old women hated being left alone with Mabel. She was adamant that Coriolanus build a servants' quarters where Mabel could be hidden. 

That meant that he had Mabel all to himself for the whole afternoon, and he was going to use every second.

Only a quick detour to pick up the things he would need could be excused. He made the chauffeur park a block away in front of a cafe and wrote a list. Coriolanus couldn’t be seen engaging in such disgraceful behavior but a faceless chauffeur could. 

His driver was about the same age as Coriolanus but had made some perilous mistakes that rendered him a tongueless Avox. Coriolanus had a vague memory that he used to play with a young child in his primary education days that resembled the young driver now, but Coriolanus didn’t dwell on it. That was the past, the future is what concerns him. 

The chauffeur looks at the list with wide eyes. He knew the items listed were to be used against the young girl he had taken back to the Snow’s penthouse, but he went and got them anyway. 

It was only a quick trip back to the house after that. Coriolanus tore the items out of the packages and continued accordingly. His footsteps were quick as he made his way through the large building. The people in front of him were too slow, it seemed like the elevator took years to get to him. He was just about to leap up the stairs when the doors opened just in time. 

Peacekeepers guarded his door in case Grandma’am or Tigris came home early. 

“You’re not needed.” He comments as he passes the Peacekeepers. They move almost instantly. 

He locks the door behind him, the bag crumples in his hold. 

Mabel sat sewing dresses for Tigris's shop. Despite spending her days making clothes, Mabel only had the green dress from Tigris and wore Coriolanus’s clothes to bed. 

She eyes him cautiously from the couch. There was something in his eyes that gave him away. Mabel decides the best course of action was to run.

He chases her into the dining room where she uses the long table as a barrier between them. 

They pause at each end. Coriolanus was first to make a move and Mabel reacted by swiftly moving in the opposite direction. 

The room is silent apart from their shuffling of feet. Impatient, Coriolanus throws himself across the table but Mabel jumps back to the entrance and retreats to the living room. 

Her bare feet thud across the marble floor as she made her way to the door. Her only chance was the door falsely locking. Everywhere else was a dead end. The apartment was large and filled with rooms but they were all locked and unlocked at Coriolanus’s command. 

She twisted and pulled but the door wouldn’t even budge. 

She could hear Coriolanus reaching her and she slid back across the hallway as Coriolanus came barreling into the door.  He chases her back into the dining room where he had dropped the bag. 

Before she could distance herself around the table, Coriolanus caught her arm and threw her into the polished wood. 

He managed to catch her flailing arms but her screaming gave him the headache had had lied about. 

He gathers her wrists and uses them to pull her over his shoulder so he can hoist her up.

She kicks and hits as he carries her to the bedroom, but it only gives him further justification for what he planned to do. He squats down to pick up the bag he dropped. He couldn’t leave it, given its purpose. 

With the door kicked shut, he drops Mabel on the bed and crawls on top of her, holding her still. 

They wrestle on the bed as Coriolanus struggles to take her dress off as Mable thrashes under him. 

But once off her shoulders, he took the handcuffs from the bag, attaching them easily to a bedpost where he could secure her. 

She panics as the first cuff is secured around her wrist and as Coriolanus reaches for the other, she sinks her teeth into the skin of his hand. 

He yells from the pain. The bite on his shoulder searing in pain from the memory. . 

A sharp backhand throws her down, making it easier to lock her in place. 

“I am going to fucking kill you!” She screams at him. It was a good time to bring out the gag from the bag and secure it in place. 

She continues to kick violently, still trying to hurt Coriolanus. He admired it. Beat and yet still fighting. 

He wanted her completely still so he continued his work, pulling out similar cuffs designed for her ankles and fastened them in place. What was left in the bag was two-meter lengths of rope which he tied around her knees to pull them completely open. He attaches the ends to the base of the bed with a knot he learned from his Peacekeeper stint. 

He stares admiring his work. She struggled against the restraints but could move very little. It was perfect, and he had hours to enjoy it. Unless Tigris came home early. With that thought, he locked the main bedroom door. 

With one last lingering look, he reached into the bag and pulled out the ‘pièce de résistance’. 

It was a small bullet-sized vibrator. It shook between his fingers. She kicked as much as she could as he inserted it dry. 

With the bullet doing its job, Coriolanus did his. He had wanted to explore Mabel's body for as long as he could remember. And with no pressing time limits he would complete this search now. 

He starts down by her feet, letting his lips drag over her skin. He examines every mole and scar along her. Kissing when he wanted to and biting because he could. It took a while, but he reached just behind her knee of the opposite leg he started with when she first came.

 From how slow he was going, he guessed it took half an hour for her first one. He wondered where he would reach for the next one. He smoothed his hands out over her skin, peppering kisses on odd spots. He had gone from her fingertips to her shoulder when her next climax came. 

He was in no rush to do anything. He explored her body the way he wanted to. She tried to headbutt him as he attempted to reach her ear but he caught her throat in his hand before it landed. He spent the next 15 minutes just on her ear alone. Biting and sucking on the lobe. He was still there when she came next. He moved on to the other ear then and waited until her next orgasm which took longer. 

After his mouth had left a cold, wet trail over every inch of her body, he took the time to count her freckles. It annoyed him when her body spasmed with another orgasm and he had to start again. 52 little brown dots was the final count. 

He moved from the bed only twice, first to remove his shoes, coat, and jewelry. And second, because he felt hungry around late afternoon. He went to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich and drink before returning to the bedroom to eat it. He didn’t want to miss Mabel's next orgasm.  

After a break of just tracing his finger around her body, and watching as she came, again and again, he decides to begin again with his mouth. 

Her legs shook from overstimulation. Coriolanus could feel them as they trembled underneath his lips. Her pussy was glistening and swollen. It looked sore from the abuse, but it was far from over. 

Her moisture dripped below her and down her inner thighs but Coriolanus just knew that her throat must be itchy and dry. He could offer her a drink of water, seeing as it had been hours of this torture, but he doesn’t.  

She had tried begging before or at least that’s what Coriolanus assumed. It could have been more insults but the crying after it made insults seem unlikely. The crying only lasted 10 minutes before her exhaustion didn’t allow her to do even that. 

She looked beautiful like this: entirely his. Under his control and mercy.

He licked the cum from her shaking thighs and moved to sit on her stomach. He was still fully clothed to add to her humiliation. 

She groaned from the weight of him. It came out muffled from under her gag but he could hear it. Her eyes were closed, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing the fear in them. 

His fingers pinched at her erect nipple, twisting it, and massaging her breast under his hand. 

Her breasts were small but a handful was all Coriolanus needed. 

Bore of this? He thought to himself. He wouldn’t object to perfunctory sex with Mabel but this is an elevated high he never thought feasible. 

A whine came from her again and he wondered if she was going to begin begging again. If she was, she was interrupted by reaching another climax that turned her begging into a muffled yell. 

Her hips buck underneath him as it ripples through her. Coriolanus watches her face as it screws up in painful pleasure. She throws her head back into her pillow three times as it passes. 

He wonders what she would say if she could say anything. Her begging is muffled, so she felt free to speak her mind but would the words flow from her mouth knowing that it would give Coriolanus confirmation. 

When her eyes fling open, it almost shocks Coriolanus. They had been closed for the past four hours. Her eyes tell him she is tired but still oh so defiant. If he was to take off her gag, he was sure that she would spit at him. 

Something about it aroused him further. 

He takes his weight off her and goes back to the end of the bed. More cum had leaked from her, making her thighs once again glisten. 

Deciding to give her a break, he reaches in and pulls the rotating device from her. It was holding in some residue cum that poured onto the bed sheets. She began breathing heavily again now that the tension was gone from her body. The poor thing thinks it’s over.

He blows gently on her abused pussy. Even the air was too much after the overstimulation. 

She tries to close her legs but the ropes stop her. 

A kiss is firmly planted on her clitoris and her wetness soaks Coriolanus's lips. She whines again, bucking her hips up to try and get him off. He cages her legs between his arms, pinning them under his shoulders as he digs his nose into the spot and begins to swirl, licking and lapping with his tongue sporadically. 

Her thighs still shake under him, and his legs join in anticipation. He rises himself to undress completely before dragging her by her knees into her own wet spot on the bed and inserting himself. She grips the chain at the intrusion. He could tell it caused her discomfort, maybe even pain as he did, but he slid in so easily. 

Her wetness meant that friction was hard to pick up so he slammed into her harshly for his own satisfaction. He had angled her so she was slightly raised from the bed as far as the ropes would allow and pounded into her with such force that she jolted at each thrust.

Her fingers clawed at what they could as Coriolanus had his way with her. 

Her swollen cunt clenched around him making Coriolanus groan in pleasure. 

The pressure around his cock got tighter and tighter as she reached another climax. Coriolanus was not far behind her after holding out for hours. 

As she came around him, it was enough for Coriolanus to come with her. 

He wanted to make a snide remark about how he could make her come but his mind was swimming. He drives his cock as far as he could into her even though he was empty. They remain like that, Coriolanus keeping Mabel there with a strong grip on her hips. Occasionally he would rock his hips back and forth, fucking the cum back into her. 

By the time Coriolanus caught his breath, he could hear the faint sound of Tigris’s heels coming down the hall. 

Mabel opened her eyes again, sure now that it was finally over. Coriolanus was hesitant to show his family his darker side. Mabel was subdued to never talk about it with threats to her family. So suspicions were never confirmed.

“Mabel?” The locked door jiggles. “Are you in there?” 

With a sigh, Coriolanus separates himself and goes over to the other side of the door. 

“Don’t come in, Tigris.” She couldn’t with the door locked anyway. “Mabel has been sick.”

He throws his gaze back to Mabel still tied to the bed.

“Let me in. I can help.” Tigris tries the locked door again. 

“She’s asked for privacy.” 

Mabel's brows furrow, but loosen as she forms a plan. While tied, her hands still had a little movement which she used to bang against the wooden headboard to alert her friend to her danger. 

Coriolanus rushes over and stills her hands firmly against the headboard. He was going to make her pay for that. 

Tigris had heard it and asked what the noise was. 

“Go away. Don’t worry. I’ll look after Mabel.”

Mabel instantly knew the underlying threat and went limp in his hold. 

He remains motionless until Tigris’s footsteps disappear back down the hall.

Only then does he move across the room to retrieve the cane used by her governess. 

It was a thin metal stick that a heavy piece of leather attached to the end that was used to smack down on hands. 

Mabel watched him as he brought it over. She pulled against her restraints but they were the best money could buy. 

He stood by her side, closest to the door so he could hear any more visitors.

Bringing the leather down to her clit, he began slapping the rod down unpleasantly.

He hit harder on her thighs, and more forcefully on her stomach, but only a rap on her breasts. He rotated randomly between the four areas of her cunt, thigh, stomach, and breasts, so she could never brace herself for the next hit.  

Her skin turned red from the assaults and her sobs hiccuped between her heavy breathing. 

There were sure to be black bruises the next day. A reminder for her. 

He taps the whip one-two-three-four times more harshly against her cunt than previously, before kneeling down and dropping it completely. 

He is at level with her perfect breast and he takes it into his mouth. His teeth grazed the sore and sensitive skin. He sucked like an infant while his hand groped her other breast between his fingers. He squeezed too hard for it to be of any pleasure for Mabel. 

He had grown painfully hard again. Now seeking his next relief he stands and unlocks one cuff with his fingerprint. 

Mabel instantly reaches for her gag but her wrist is caught and brought towards Coriolanus’s throbbing cock. She tries to pull her hand free but it is forced around his member and with his hand on top of hers, he begins to move it back and forth. 

She concedes and follows his movement with his hand now free and off hers, he uses it to redirect her face to what she is doing. 

He holds the back of her hair steady and keeps it in place as he feels his end nearing. 

His cum squirts out over her. Her face and chest now dripping with it. 

He was so caught up he failed to hear Tigris coming back down the hall. 

“Coryo, Mabel. Dinner is ready”. 

Coriolanus takes a deep breath before answering as evenly as he could, “We’ll be right there.” 

But he clips Mabel's hand back into the cuff. 

A whole afternoon of sex had relaxed Coriolanus. Everything that had bothered him before now seemed so silly. Was this all he needed all along to relieve the tension he always felt? He felt so good. But poor Mabel had taken his hurt. 

But she was bad and bad girls get punished. He had told her this. She needed to learn her place and this was a perfect example of it. 

Coriolanus wiped his cum from her chest down her stomach. She shuddered as he did it. She was sticky and wet and so, so beautiful. 

He looks down at his sticky hands and goes to the bathroom to wash them. Wiping a warm washcloth over himself to rid the mixture of cum he had picked up. He disregards the used washcloth and grabs another to wash the smell of sex off him. 

He runs it over his arms and shoulders as he walks to his closet to pick out an outfit for dinner. Deciding on his navy suit pants and white dress shirt, he finishes running the rag over himself and drops it to the floor.

Mabel was so still, if it wasn't for her shallow breathing, he would have thought he killed her. 

Now dressed, he goes back to her and stands on the end of the bed. He could hear the buzzing of the device but couldn’t see it. Mabel lay with her eyes closed, resting. 

He finds it and shoves it back inside of her. 

It causes her eyes to shoot back open. This time he was sure she was begging him to take it out. Her head shook ‘no’ when her words failed her. 

He smiles down at her, feeling like a god. 

“To make up for my previous inadequacies.” 

He leaves the room, making sure to relock it. 

Tigris, of course, asks him where Mabel was when he reached the dinner table. He continues with the ‘unwell’ lie and eats with a hunger he never knew, even during the war. 

—---

He skips dessert to attend to Mabel and warn off any more questions from Tigris. 

The room was quiet and dark. She lay on the bed motionless. The slight buzz sound could be heard the closer he got but Mabel's legs lay limp, unresponsive to it. 

He reaches down gently and pulls the device out for the final time. When he switches it off, Mabel considers the ordeal over. 

He unlocks the cuffs from her wrists and ankles and unties the rope from her knees. He half expects her to be filled with a burst of energy but all she could do is curl into a ball as she is released. Her eyes never open and her mouth never makes a sound. 

He switches on the lamp to see her more clearly. Her skin was still red and glistened with his cum. 

Her thighs were smeared with a small amount of blood that leaked from her abused hole. 

Perhaps he went too hard, but he didn’t feel sorry for it. 

She still doesn’t move as Coriolanus picks her up. No whimper or sound. She let him do what he wanted and that’s all he had ever asked of her. 

He places her in the large tub and runs hot water for her bath. Her head tilts to the side as she rests and Coriolanus brushes her hair from her face. 

He leaves her there to return to the bedroom, ringing down on the service phone for the changing of his sheets. 

The hot water begins to cover her body which is slumped down. He pulls her back up by her neck and keeps his hold in case she slips under. 

She sighs as the hot water surrounds  her. Her body ached with pain. If she had any water left in her she would have cried. 

Coriolanus leans against the bathtub watching as the water rises above her. It all seemed surreal to finally have done the debauched acts he had dreamed about doing since he first saw her. Just having sex was one thing, but that was a performance. A period of time when he could do anything and everything he wanted. A quickie in the shower or a quiet struggle at night did not satisfy Coriolanus the way this had. 

He had to get Tigris and Grandma’am out of the house, or he and Mabel could leave. He could no longer live by their rules. He wanted Mabel completely under his control like she was an hour ago, not safeguarded by virtuous Tigris. 

He had waited all through his tortuous months as a Peacekeeper, watching her as she was protected by men much larger than himself. Even with his position and weapons, he was no match if one of them decided to fight him off. But now he was. Now no one stood in his way, apart from Dr. Gaul. But once he won the presidency, he would deal with her then. 

He remembered the night of Mayfair’s murder. Watching Mabel as Lucy Gray sang his song. She had her hair twisted on top of her head, hot and sweaty from dancing. She was surrounded by her friends and hopeful men and sat drinking something that was bought for her. She talked through his song to her man on her left. She was missing the song. He wanted to do something. To force her to listen to the words of the song. 

He was desirable just like her. He was powerful, and resourceful. Saved Lucy Gray from the Hunger Games. If she would just listen, surely she would want him just as Lucy Gray had. But she laughed over his name. The anger he felt proved useful when it came time to kill Mayfair but buried itself into his body until it could be released upon his target. Tonight it left his body, and Coriolanus felt as if a weight had been released. 

He turns off the water, hearing a forceful knock at the door. The maids were here to change the sheets.

‘‘Sit up. Don’t drown.” He demands, letting go of Mabel's neck to answer the door. 

To his surprise, Tigris stood with the maids. Her tall frame towered over them. 

He was careful only to let the maids through the door. 

“She’s thrown up all over the bed. Leave her be, Tigris.”

She eyes the room behind him, trying to find Mabel. She offers to make up the spare bed for him to sleep in, but he knew it was to create distance between him and Mabel. 

It hit the final nail on his decision, Tigris and Grandma’am could no longer live with him. 

“I’ll stay with her tonight to make sure she is alright.” He shoves himself through his door and slams it in Tigris’s face. 

The maids had stripped the bed and he ordered one to fetch him two bottles of water before disappearing back into the bathroom. 

The door is shut offering privacy. 

Mabel still had her eyes closed and a crumpled frame. He resumes his spot on the floor next to her. 

“I would like an apology for your comment last night.” 

She doesn’t offer one. Coriolanus was glad. He wanted to keep at least some of her fighting spirit. 

But disobedience still had to be punished. 

He lowers his hand down into the water towards her sex. She jolts, squeezing her legs as tightly as her weak muscles would allow.

“Okay-okay. I am sorry.” Her voice was raspy and barely existent. 

He lets her finish her bath in peace. The water was nearly cold by the time he reached down and pulled the plug from under her. 

She had rarely moved as she soaked. He doesn’t wait for the water to disappear as he picks her up from the tub and moves her to sit on the counter by the sink. Her body was weak and she leaned against the glass as he dried her with a towel. 

He rolled up his wet sleeves, unsure of why he didn’t do it earlier. He had just wanted to get Mabel out of the bath and into bed but at even the slightest expense to himself? Maybe he was just tired also. 

He brought her forward so he could reach behind her for her toothbrush. She tries to take it after he applies the paste, but he is resistant to give it to her. Her hold was so weak, that it would surely topple to the floor.

He forces it between her lips to give her teeth a quick brush. The foam dribbles down her chin as she spit it out. Using the same towel, he wipes her clean before picking her up once more. 

He sits her on the ottoman and she falls back into the newly made bed. She was so tired. She couldn’t care where or how she slept. But Coriolanus did. 

He found his nicest pair of silk pajamas. They were deep brown and soft as butter. 

She was awake enough to see him bring them back over but they were entirely wrong for her. 

They reeked of him. They fit her too loosely. Reminded her too much of all she had lost. 

They caused a surge of energy. Enough to sit up and resist the clothes as Coriolanus dressed her like a doll. It was a struggle to get her hand through the first sleeve but as his movements became rougher, her fight fled. 

He wondered why it was so important that she was clean and comfortable. Why didn’t he leave her in her own mess, or let her sleep naked if she was going to fight him on it? What did it say about him? About how he felt about Mabel?

He assured himself it was the war. He had very little but always took very good care of the things he did have. This was the same. He was only ensuring that his things would last. 

Besides, when she was good, he would treat her nicely. He could, but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t ruthless enough to run Panem. He was sure that even Dr. Gaul let her favorite pets sleep in the bed with her. 

As soon as he pulled her up to her pillow and laid her down into the fresh sheets, she fell asleep. It was the easiest bedtime since she was brought here. He pulls the blanket over her, tucking her in before he has his own shower. 

He returns to the dim light, straining to see if Mabel was awake. 

Mabel had not moved, even in her sleep.

He dresses and turns off the lamp. He wiggled next to Mabel, lowering his shoulder from its natural height so Mabel's cheek was pressed against it. It was silly and out of place after everything he had done, but it felt right to him. 

He wondered how she would wake. Would it be with a newfound obedience or did Coriolanus have many more nights like this on the cards? He secretly hoped for the latter. 

—-----------

When Coriolanus woke the next morning Mabel was still asleep. 

In his kindness, he decided to let her sleep longer. Last night was sure to have worn her out. 

He takes another shower, taking time to groom himself and apply his skin care. 

When he was finished, Mabel was still asleep. It was early, not even seven in the morning, so Coriolanus finished dressing without disturbing her. 

She looked so small in the massive bed. So delicate. If he didn’t know her, he would have never believed that such a small frame could carry such a big mouth. 

He closes the door quietly as he exits for breakfast.

Grandma’am and Tigris were already sitting at the table, picking food from the center. 

“Where’s Mabel?” Tigris asked.

“Asleep,” Coriolanus takes a pastry off the centerpiece and talks to the maid as he sits, “Put aside a plate for her.”

“You’re not going to wake her for breakfast?”

“She is still ill.” 

“Lazy,” Grandma’am spits out, “Districts are all lazy.” 

“Oh dear, maybe I should stay home today.” Tigris offers. 

“And watch her sleep?” Coriolanus mocks. Mabel knew to keep their relationship between the two of them but after last night it was best to err on the side of caution. 

“She’s sick, Coriolanus. She needs someone to take care of her.” 

She was Coriolanus's pet and Coriolanus's responsibility. 

“The Peacekeepers have a direct line to my office. If she needs something they can’t provide, I will take care of it.” 

Tigris pushes back her eggs, no longer hungry. 

“I still think-” she begins but Coriolanus’s temper flares. 

“You know what I think, Tigris? Perhaps it would be best for Mabel and I to find an apartment closer to the city.” 

“Move out from the Snow penthouse?” Grandma’am exclaims. 

“If Tigris will not stop interfering, what choice do we have, Grandma’am?” Coriolanus responds. 

“Interfere? Interfere with what exactly? Your violation of that poor girl? Is she sick, or have you done something to her? This is-this is…No!” Tigris gets up flustered.

“Sit down, Tigris,” Coriolanus demands, “Mabel is sick. It was bound to happen. She is District. She is not used to Capitol illnesses.’’ 

“Listen to your cousin, dear. Sit.” Grandma’am beckons. 

Grandma’am knew that if Coriolanus was to move out, his protection would go with him. Grandma’am had lived a hard and bitter life since the war, she was determined to die in peace. 

Tigris does sit back down, but remains in her frazzled state. 

Mabel was still asleep by the time everyone had left the apartment. Coriolanus left her a bottle of water and some painkillers next to her on her bedside, alongside a note letting her know there was food in the fridge for her. 

Work was more bearable with last night still running through his mind. He was in a good mood all day. It made him stand out amongst his gloomy coworkers. Nothing was too much trouble. He could take that extra task on. He could wait while his assistant readied documents due hours ago. 

Mabel was going to be of great use when he became President. He laughs quietly to himself as fleshes out his new game ideas on paper. 

“President Snow, how do you manage the pressure of it all?”

“The satisfaction of knowing I am serving my country keeps me preserving through difficult times.”

Meanwhile, Mabel would be back at the presidential estate tied to his bed, waiting for him. 

A small giggle escapes into the silent room and floats through the air. Coriolanus sits up straighter, fixing his face into a scowl as people look for the source of the laughter. 

Did Dr. Gaul laugh?  Did Dr Gaul ever kiss and pet her animals? What would she think of him if she could see him giddy as a schoolboy?

He used to pride himself on his self-control but Mabel had deteriorated it. 

She was a source of pleasure, where he had only known pain. The pain kept him sharp. 

He was doing so well. Too well to be thrown off balance by her. 

He reshuffles his pages to a blank piece. With Mabel on his mind, his proposal was weak. 

To impress Dr Gaul, he needed to show her that he was just as ruthless in his pleasure, as he was in his pain. 

—---------

He got home an hour after he was supposed to. No one was surprised when he was late. Not with the games just around the corner. 

His tired eyes were looking forward to seeing Mabel, but as he entered the apartment only Grandma’am, and Tigris greeted him. 

He kisses Grandma’am hello as she croons about his long day. Tigris sat in the living room matching patterns, clearly still angry. 

“Where’s Mabel?” he asks. He knew she was either in the kitchen or bedroom, but it seemed odd that she would leave her friend. They were normally joined at the hip as soon as Tigris came home from work. 

Tigris’s eyes shoot up at him. Before Mabel, Tigris had never looked at him with such hatred.

“She’s in bed. She hasn’t moved all day. I sat with her for an hour, she didn’t say a word.” 

Coriolanus makes his way to the bedroom to see it is completely dark. She didn’t even move to turn on a lamp. 

His sounders tensed with the thought that he had damaged his new toy. He had only wanted to control the spark, not extinguish it. 

He knew she could hear him as he approached her but she gave him no attention. 

He hoped to at least have her yell at him. Demand he get out, but everything was silent. 

Sitting on the bed next to her, he places a hand on her shoulder and speaks softly. 

“Mabel get up.”

She ignores him which angers him greatly. 

He sees she has taken her painkillers and drank her water. She had no reason to act this bratty. 

“What you did yesterday was…” She pauses to take a breath. 

Coriolanus’s mind races with answers: Exhilarating, memorable, long overdue. 

“Cruel.” She finished. From her perspective, maybe.

“You know, I’ve spent all day trying to remember you back in 12. I can only remember that night at the Hobb. Your eyes. So blue.” Her green eyes look up at his, “They gave you away.”

He could remember every occasion that Mabel came into view. But he watched from the shadows, and she danced in the light. 

“Mabel, I have given you no delusions as to why you are here. I’ve been very honest about your situation.” 

“Did you kill Mayfair?”

“Yes,” he admits. He felt his secret was safe with her. 

“Lucy Gray?” 

“Yes.” 

She doesn’t look afraid. Only defiant. It relieved Coriolanus to no end. He hadn’t broken his favorite toy. She was regaining her strength for battle. 

She sits up causing Coriolanus to lean slightly back to avoid a collision.

“Your eyes,” she states, “There’s something so dark behind them, that’s why I remembered them. I thought ‘run Lucy Gray!’ when I saw them.”

“She tried.” 

“I won’t run.”

“You won’t get the chance.” Coriolanus rises from the bed but keeps his eyes trained on Mabel. 

“I won’t run,” she repeats, “I’ll kill you.” 

He took her jaw roughly into his hands, turning it left and right as he spoke. 

“There’s not a single thought in that pretty little head of yours, is there?”

“There’s only one.” 

Coriolanus smiles down at her, despite her threat. She was so beautiful with her long dark eyelashes and her long dark hair that twisted past her shoulders and lay splayed out around her.

“I watched you for months as a Peacekeeper. Imagining all the things I would do if I could.'' He tucks her hair back behind her ear as he continues speaking, “Now here you are. Right under my fingertips. Mine. Free to do as I wish with.” 

He pushes her head back as he releases his hold of her jaw to stand.

“You thought I was cruel last night? Imagine what I am capable of when I am truly motivated.”

 He pulls down his sleeves that had rode up from his movements. It was important to look put together at all times. 

“I’ve dreamt of you for so long, Mabel . I will have you exactly how I want.”

“For now,” she concedes.

He squints his eyes at her. The things he would do if Tigris wasn't already waiting. 

“You need to come out and show Tigris that you are fine.” 

He could tell that she was in pain from her tense and slow movements but her face was brave.

Still dressed in his brown nightwear, she walks tall to the door, never looking behind her. 

—--------------

Coriolanus arrives home well after dinner due to Dr. Gaul arriving back in the Capitol. Now that the screening locations were picked, she didn’t want her efforts to be wasted. They all had to think of ways to prolong the screening. 

She was happy with nothing unless it added to the misery of districts. Coriolanus watched as she pushed and hinted at what she truly wanted. She was not interested in sharing ideas, she only wanted the participation of the group to distribute the blame. They were all in this together.

 All monsters of the Capitol. All a fine example of the human condition: hidden by fine clothing, and etiquette but at the core animals that believed in nothing but survival of the fittest. 

Coriolanus finally guessed at what she was getting at, and they could all go home, nearly three hours after the official day had ended. 

Coriolanus was eager to get home and relieve some of the stress that he felt. Gamemaking was not for the faint of heart. 

They had waited to have dinner with him, much to Coriolanus’s annoyance. Grandma’am was adamant that it was disrespectful to eat without the man who put the food on the table. 

It fanned Coriolanus's ego so he sat alongside Mabel and ate his dinner in silence. 

All he wanted to do was retire to his room with Mabel and read. He skipped dessert to do so, much to Mabel's disappointment. 

He did enjoy Mabel's company. Even just her presence in the room helped to settle him. Was she a symbol of his power? A silent promise to the man he is to become? He had no idea why she had this effect on him, only that she did. 

After a whole day of tense conversation with Dr Gaul, he could finally relax and read his book. 

He forced Mabel to do her reading homework as well, so she didn’t annoy him. 

Her book was for Capitol children and yet it still was above her level. She sat on the bed trying to read it while Coriolanus stretched out on his desk, reading for pleasure. 

She grew frustrated, throwing her book onto the floor. Coriolanus shuts his own book to pay attention to her. 

“Something the matter?”

“The cat sat on the mat, the mat sat on the cat. Who cares? Not me.” 

Her hair was pinned up by something but it was mostly coming apart. Ringlets fall and frame her face, giving her an endearing disheveled look. 

With his book back on his desk, Coriolanus goes to entertain Mabel.

Mabel is pushed to the bed as Coriolanus crawls on top of her, his head aiming for her neck. She lays unenthusiastically beneath him.

“Is Tigris dumb?”

Coriolanus stopped kissing her neck to respond. 

“What?”

“I wouldn’t mind if she’s dumb,” Her eyes focused on a faraway spot in the corner, Coriolanus had trouble regaining her attention. 

“But she’s my friend,” Mabel continues, “And she acts like she doesn’t know what you are doing. If she ain’t dumb, then she ain’t loyal. And if she ain’t loyal, we ain’t friends.” 

‘‘Isn’t,’’ he goes back to his work on her neck, ‘‘Are not.” 

He rises once more to look at her,  “We don’t say ‘ain’t’.”

“Well, I say ‘ain’t’.” Mabel pushes back on his shoulders and he takes it as a sign that more forceful measures must be taken. 

“She told me, ya know. About your childhood. How she looked after you, how poor you were. She reckons that’s why you are the way you are.”

“Mabel, don’t make yourself familiar with me.” He grabs her arm harshly and pulls her from where she lay into a kneeling position on the floor. 

“‘He doesn’t mean it,’ she said. ‘He’s been through a lot’.”

Coriolanus undoes his pants, and Mabel remains kneeling on the floor. 

“So maybe she is just dumb.” Her words are fierce but her frame shrinks underneath him. Her hands stuck together on her lap, her spine slightly curled like she wanted to roll herself into a ball. 

Coriolanus grabs her jaw to straighten her, his other hand snaking into her hair. He stands up and positions himself correctly. She couldn’t be trusted to do it by herself, so he kept a strong hold on her jaw to ensure it didn’t close, and a painful grip on the back of her head to ensure that she didn’t move away. 

He begins to fuck her mouth at a frustrated pace. 

She chokes as he pushes himself all the way in. Slamming his hips back and forth into her. 

She reaches up to take hold of the back of his pant leg, trying to steady herself.

“You don’t look like a big, tough girl now. Do you still feel like one?” he taunts, feeling her nails dig into the fabric of his pants. 

“Getting awfully friendly with me. Are we friends, Mabel? Or are you my little slut?”

His hips buck harshly in time with his words, “My-beautiful-little-slut.” 

Before resuming their quick, and needy pace, he spat out “You know what your problem is, Mabel. You never know when to shut the fuck up.” 

Her fingers curl around the fabric of his pants.

“You’re so brave, Mabel. And what did it get you? A mouthful of cock. A belly full of cum. Was it worth it?”

He could feel her jaw move under his hand but his tight hold disallowed her speech. He was going to talk, she was going to listen. 

“You think I like being cruel?  I do.  But you know what I think? You like it too. You like being shown who's boss. Again-Ah- and again.” 

He slows his pace down, dragging his cock slowly along her tongue.

“Those District boys never quite did it for you. Did they? That's why you kept cycling through them. You were waiting for a man like me to put you in your place. On your knees.” 

Her eyes flamed at him but she could do nothing more. 

She gags when he pushes too far but he doesn’t stop. 

Drool spilt from the corner of her mouth, and her eyes watered but he felt no pity. 

“You’re not dumb, Mabel. Haven’t you realized that when you’re nice, I am nice? Or have you realized that when you’re mean, I am mean?’’.

He laughs at her, angry and powerless on the floor. She digs her nails into the back of his thighs. With four more uncontrolled thrusts, he spills into her mouth and throws her back like a dirty rag.

She’s left on the floor, eyes watering and gasping for air with cum dripping off her lips. 

He drags her by the arm to the corner of the room where he forces her back into her knees facing the wall. 

“You don’t want to read your book? Fine.” 

He balances it on top of her head. “Stay there while I finish mine.”

Mabel, still ever so defiant, turns as he walks away and throws the book at him. Hitting him with a thud against his back. 

“You sick fuck!” she calls out. She goes to get up but Coriolanus is too quick for her, grabbing a thin book from his stack and shoving it between her teeth. He pushes her shoulder back towards the wall, reaching blindly for the rod he knew was close at hand. 

Feeling the cool metal between his fingers he brings it four times against her back. The book drops as she shouts and Coriolanus’s hand replaces it until the fourth strike hits. 

He picks it up again. It was a thin book, only 100 pages in length about the legislative process of government. It was short in nature given the hierarchy of parliament. It could be summed up in a sentence: the president spoke and the rest rushed to make his sentence a reality. 

He tells her to bite down and she does against the spin of the book. With her there, he goes to the locked drawer at his desk where he hid his toys from the maid. He brings out the cuffs he brought and secures her hands behind her back to make her task harder. 

Rebalancing the book, he leaves her there to return to his book at his desk.

He kept the cane in his hand, bringing it down across her every time the book fell. She remained completely still even as her neck strained. It annoyed Coriolanus so he took another book from his collection and placed it upon her thin child's book to add weight. She dropped it more easily, but the sting of the cane had her soon learning how to evenly distribute the weight. 

He had three more heavy books stacked on top of her head by the time he was finished reading for the night. 

She blinked tears away but made no sound or change to her straight posture. 

He took his books back from her head and teeth, placing them in their rightful places on the shelf. 

She was smart not to move, and he rewarded her for it by crouching down next to her and wiping her tears away with his handkerchief. She doesn’t look at him, keeping her eyes on the white wall. 

He takes hold of her jaw again to raise her from the floor and leads her to the shower. 

—-----------------

Another long day at the office left Coriolanus wishing for Reaping Day. 

 The sooner it was all over, the better for his nerves. 

Normally, on the way home he would listen to the radio news but after his exhausting day, all he wanted was silence. He knew he would no longer get it at home. The car pulled up to the curb of his building but he couldn't force himself to get out. He watched the lights of the building and the people as they entered and exited. 

He sighed deeply when he saw Mabel's Governess coming from the building. They were supposed to be done hours ago. 

He rushes out of the car as she approaches. 

“Mrs. Fox. What has she done now?”

The older woman jumped at the sound of his voice but regained herself as she turned. 

“Oh nothing, Mr. Snow,” she looked surprised to say it, “I was just visiting a friend in the same building. Mabel finished all her work diligently. We were done within four hours, and I didn't raise the cane once.”

Coriolanus smiled. Was it over? Had he done it? Maybe he was ready to be President. If he had trusted his instincts on the first day Mabel would be eating out of his hand right now. He had done it. He had won. 

“Well, that's good news.” He walks the teacher to her car, feeling generous. 

“I know I could get through to her with a heavy hand. You really must let me use my teaching experience. 

Coriolanus felt too good to correct her so he just bids her goodnight and leaps up the steps into his apartment building. 

He greets people as he makes his way through the building, avoiding conversation where he could. He was glad when the neighbor left the shared space of the elevator, sending the old woman off with a nod. The silence was refreshing after his day of non-stop chatter. He liked that Mabel didn’t speak much, at least not to him. 

The Peacekeepers greeted him as the doors opened before taking his place in the elevator. He doesn’t greet them back, focused only on opening the door and retiring to bed. 

He looks around the room to Grandma’am who sits at the kitchen table reading a gossip magazine and Tigris who is helping Mabel sew a large dress. 

Mabel wore a big, bright smile as she walked over to him and took his coat. It wasn't an unwelcome change but one that put Coriolanus on edge.

“Coryo, how was your day?” Tigris called from her seat on the couch. 

“Fine,” he answers. With Mabel still within reach he places a quick kiss on her cheek. Her eyes widened in surprise before her face scrunched into disgust. 

With his coat hung up, she leaves him by the door, going back to Tigris. The corners of her mouth twisted up into a smile. She bit down upon her lip, trying to stifle a giggle. 

He had an unsettled feeling as he walked from the living room to his bedroom. He expected glum Mabel, defeated Mabel but not gleeful Mabel. 

Opening the door he could see why. 

His books had been thrown to the floor, pages torn out and spines broken. He had nearly a whole wall full and she had taken every single one and torn it apart with her bare hands. Coriolanus had been a boy who had nothing, and even now as a man who had everything, watching his things get destroyed gave him a sick feeling. 

His bag drops by his feet and picks up the book closest to him. Chocolate was squished between the white pages. The book was borrowed from one of his professors. A first edition and highly expensive.  

He was going to kill Mabel. 

He dashes out of the room, and back to the living room where she was expecting him. 

She eyes him on the couch, eagerly. 

Alarm bells ring in his head. She wanted him to react but why? He was too angry to care. 

He had expected her to move so when his fist came down, it came down with more force than he would have normally used, which sent her off the couch and onto the floor. Despite how angry he was, he forced himself to uncurl his hand into an open palm. He straddles her, bringing his hand down across her face as many times as he could before Tigris could hinder his movements. 

“Coriolanus!” he could hear the fear in Tigris's voice and it clicked for him. Mabel had set him a trap and he had fallen straight into it. 

She wanted to expose him to his family. Make a fool out of him. 

He got off her, falling back on his legs, his eyes going to Grandma’am at the table. Her face froze with shock. 

This was too much for even Grandma’am who used to let him steal toys from other children in the playground. 

Mabel manages to get up, grabbing the fabric scissors off the table as she gains distance between them. 

“Touch me again, and I’ll fucking kill you.” She threatens. She holds the scissors in a tight grip towards Coriolanus. Grandma’am cries out in panic but she is largely ignored. 

“Let's just calm down,” Tigris soothes. 

Coriolanus rises from his spot. He could feel his rage ripple through him. 

“Drop the fucking scissors. You won’t use it.” He demands. 

“What to bet?” she spat. The scrapping of the kitchen chair breaks their standoff. 

“I am calling the Peacekeepers” Grandma’am attempts to make a break to the kitchen but she is slow in her old age. 

“Don’t!” Coriolanus growls. He wished Tigris and Grandma’am would melt into the floor so he would deal with this. 

“What a game you played, Coriolanus. So smart, so charming. It must have been exhausting for you” she mocks. “Is that what I am for you? Something you can toy with after playing Capitol pin-up boy all day?”

“I care for you, Mabel.” He admits, his face turns slightly pink from the heat of his embarrassment. He felt foolish to admit such a thing in front of his family. 

She scoffs at him, turning to Tigris. 

“Do you see?” She asks, “Do you see who he is?”

All eyes are on Tigris, who stood in silence giving her answer away. 

He had to get her back under control before she could forever ruin his and Tigris's relationship. 

“You want to go home?” Coriolanus takes a cautious step forward, “I am willing to make a trade.” 

Mabel listens.

“I hear your sister is growing up to be quite pretty. She’s too young to be of any use to me for years, so I’ll take your mother in the meantime.” 

“Coriolanus.” Tigris' voice is hard and cold.

 It felt as if a bucket of ice water had been thrown over him. But he was a Snow. Snow’s are not threatened, they are the threat. Does this District girl think she can make a fool out of him? That she could use his family to stronghold him? 

“I’ll send your mother back once your sister hits the right age.” 

“I’ll kill you.” Mabel threatens but her tone is weak, and her lips quiver. Coriolanus knew he was on the right track.

 “Don’t you understand, Mabel? Your life ended when you were placed on that train. It belongs to me now. I took you as easily as I can take them.”

“Not if you’re dead.” She declared. 

“Kill me Mabel, and it would be as if you slit their throats yourself.” 

She knew it too. That's why she never took a lunge. 

“Drop the scissors,” Coriolanus contends, “And I’ll forget it happened.” 

“Do you see him, Tigris? He’s not the boy you raised, he’s the boy you lost. Do you see?”

Coriolanus wasn’t sure when Tigris had begun crying but she stood now with her hands clapped up to her face and big, fat tears running down her face. 

“Yes,” Tigris sobbed. 

Mabel threw the scissors away from herself and Coriolanus took her arm, leading her to the bedroom before she could cause any more damage to his relationship with his cousin. He locks the door, making sure to double-check it before he hurries back to do damage control. 

Grandma’am and Tigris hadn’t left the living room. He doesn’t think they have moved since his outburst. He was so good at only showing them his best side. He hid the Snow that lurked beneath him all those years at the Academy, even the day he told them he was leaving for Peacekeeper training. All those years of self-restraint blown over by a hot-tempered girl in an afternoon. 

“Tigris,” he begins, reaching out to her but she jerks back away from him. 

“No, Coriolanus. No. I can’t sit by and watch you torment that poor girl.”

She begins to shove her work into her suitcase, throwing the scissors hard into the bottom.  

He felt a switch flip in him. She was going against him? After all he had done for her? Brought their family from ruin all off his own back. Slaved over his grades. Went to school hungry so that she could have more to eat. He got punished for cheating in the hunger games so he could win the Plinth Prize and keep a roof over her head. And now, she was going to take a District's side over him?

“Then don’t watch.” 

Coriolanus turns towards his office, the words of peace Grandma’am spewed behind him got lost in the slammed door. 

He immediately contacted a colleague who owned a collection of high-end resorts and inquired about the best apartment that he had available. His next call was to his driver and then to the Peacekeepers telling them to come inside in the next five minutes. 

When he entered Tigris' room she was already there. She begins the lecture again but this time Coriolanus is unfazed as he grabs one of her many bags and starts to shove whatever his hand touches into it. This stops her. 

The startled sound she made was new to Coriolanus. He always tried to hide his dark side to avoid scaring her, just as she always hid her panic to avoid worrying him. Tonight Mabel brought the emotions to the surface. 

“What are you doing?” she asks meekly. 

“I told you, Tigris. Mind your business or get out.”

She doesn’t stop him as he packs her things. 

“You aren’t serious. This is my home!” 

Coriolanus makes no verbal response causing Tigris to sit on her bed to absorb the blow. 

She had to leave. To save their relationship. Coriolanus planned to do much worse things to Mabel. 

Mabel too, needed to know that his family were not playthings for her. He couldn’t be seen cowering in the shadows any longer. He was the leader of the Snow family, it was time he acted like it. 

He could hear Grandma’am. Her loud, high-pitched voice quivered as it exclaimed to the Peacekeepers the events of the night. Coriolanus raced to stop her.  

“Coriolanus!” she calls as he enters the room. 

He takes her into his arms and speaks softly to the woman, “Go back a bag, Grandma'am. I’ll send the rest after you.” 

Coriolanus held her a bit tighter as she turned pale. Would shifting her from the Snow penthouse kill her? She could have her rose garden anywhere. He will ensure it. The new apartment was closer to the city anyway. This would be better for them all. 

After a moment of silence, Grandma’am stood tall. Her face was blank from emotion as she shook her youngest grandchild from her. 

“You,” she points to a Peacekeeper, “Follow me.” 

Silence overtook the room again as the sound of heavy boots and light heels made their way together. 

“Coriolanus!”His name is yelled down the hallway. “No. No, I won’t go!” 

Tigris’s screaming interrupted Mabel's banging. The noise was too much for Coriolanus, whose temper flared once more. 

“The bag is in the end room.” he seethed to the remaining Peacekeeper who took off at his command. 

Mabel screamed Tigris’s name, thinking her friend was in danger. 

“Shut up!’’ Coriolanus screamed down the hall. 

“I won’t go. I won’t leave Mabel. You can’t do this!” It was hard to hear her over Mabel’s incessant banging. 

“Please, don’t do this, Coryo. This isn’t you.” 

Tigris stills at her own words. The war-torn boy was no longer there. She wasn’t sure if the child she raised was still in there. 

The same blue eyes that used to cry with her out of hunger now glared back at her. His father's eyes. Full of hate. 

The Peacekeeper returns with the bag and gently places a hand on Tigris’s arm to lead her to the door. She goes willingly, too dazed to resist. 

Grandma’am kisses him goodbye, shadowed by the young Peacekeeper holding an impressive amount of bags given the small time frame. 

He is left alone for the first time in the Snow Penthouse. 

Mabel continued pounding the door. She was screaming but her words were muffled and Coriolanus’s ears ringed with his own consequences. 

He had got everything he wanted but it has cost him everything he had. 

The shattering of something caught his attention. He sprints to his locked bedroom door, and bangs back against the door, bringing his face up to the wood so she could hear him. 

“You hear that, Mabel? It's the sound of your only friend leaving.” 

—-------

Reaping day was finally here, and Coriolanus felt the most nervous he had ever been. Even the day of the Plinth Prize, or the first day as a Peacekeeping grunt. This was much worse. This was a situation that he couldn’t crawl his way out from. It depended entirely on Mabel. 

She took all day to prepare to the Capitol’s standards. A team of beauty technicians came around and spent hours waxing, shaping, styling, and dying. 

The Reaping was at noon and the team had been working since eight getting Mabel ready. It was well worth the effort. Her natural features were enhanced, her curls fought into submission, and the treatment on her olive skin left it glowy and smooth.

 He caught her looking at herself on reflective surfaces.

 Her dress was a plain black halter-neck dress that reached her ankles. A large white, satin bow skewed over her hip, tying together in a large bow on the opposite side. It pinned her dress together so there was a large slit that allowed for the viewing of her fine legs. Even in heels, she only reached Coriolanus’ shoulder in height.

She certainly looked the part, but could she act it? Coriolanus could tell she was worried. Her fingers fiddled with her bow, and her attention was hard to keep.

It was a big day for her, and her family. Any trouble and they were to pay the price. 

Dr. Gaul was to arrive soon. The servants stood along the wall, waiting. Mabel sat on the couch while Coriolanus paced in front of her. 

“Remember, always refer to her as Dr. Gaul. Don’t speak unless spoken to, and no backchat. Mabel, no backchat.” 

To Coriolanus’s surprise, she gives him a nod instead of an eye roll.

As if summoned, the doorbell rang and a servant was quick to attend it. 

Her small frame haunted the doorway. No longer in her lab coat, Dr. Gaul wore a maroon pantsuit that widened her broad shoulders. 

“Dr. Gaul.” Coriolanus greets but is ignored as Dr. Gual makes her way to Mabel. 

Dr. Gaul looks Mabel up and down, seeming to approve by the end of the inspection. 

“A pretty bird,” she said to no one in particular. 

Mabel’s lips pressed together. 

“Dr. Gaul, would you like a drink?” Coriolanus tries to take her gaze off Mabel. They were a team today, and Coriolanus would try and protect Mabel as much as he could. 

His tactic worked, turning Dr. Gaul from the young girl to the servant with the tray. 

All too quickly, Dr. Gaul turns her attention back to Mabel, extending her gloved hand. 

“Dr. Volumnia Gaul.” 

Mabel reaches out and accepts the handshake. 

“Dr. Gaul, I have heard lots about you.”

Dr. Gaul's eyes quickly flicker to Coriolanus before resettling on Mabel. 

“Not as much as I have heard about you, I bet.”

The Panem national anthem is heard from the television. It was the perfect opportunity to usher the pair towards the lounge and away from the conversation. 

They stand as the anthem plays. Coriolanus could barely breathe as time was swallowed by the song. It was a minute and 16 seconds of free time and Coriolanus was grateful for every second. 

All too soon Lucy Flickerman appeared on the screen and the pair followed Dr. Gauls' lead to sit. 

Servants hovered over them offering food and drink but Dr. Gaul kept careful watch of Mabel who sat, hidden by Coriolanus. 

“I am surprised at your composure, Mabel. Today must be hard for you.” Dr. Gaul provoked. 

“Not since I turned 18.” Mabel leans closer to Dr. Gaul, and Coriolanus has to refrain from yanking her back. 

“I’s rather hopeful today. Adelaide Bennet owes me money and it’s her last chance to get picked.”

Dr. Gaul smiles back at her. 

“Well let’s remain hopeful then.” Dr. Gaul returns to the television as the presenter makes his introduction. 

Mabel leans back in her seat to watch the ceremony and Coriolanus takes the opportunity to lay an arm across her shoulders to stop her from leaning forward again. 

The tributes were picked and then called on stage to be asked questions. It was a terrible idea. Most just cried or just stood there. Coriolanus made a mental note to scrap it next year. 

Dr. Gaul who normally loved to watch the dismay of tributes, shuffled in her seat towards Mabel. 

Coriolanus motioned for the servants to serve more drinks. Trying to distract any further conversation between the two. 

“Are you enjoying the Capitol, Miss Mabel?”

“Yes. I love this apartment.” Mabel quipped. Coriolanus dug his fingertips into her shoulder. 

Dr Gaul grinned at her backchat. “Well, I suppose you haven’t seen much beyond the bedroom walls.” 

Coriolanus could feel Mabel flinch under him. She had hit a sore spot but Mabel put on a brave face. 

“Is there much more beyond that?” 

Mabel and Coriolanus shared the same philosophy of never letting anyone see your weakness. 

It impressed Dr. Gaul. Coriolanus watched her from the corner of his eye as Dr. Gaul revels in all that is Mabel. 

“Whoa,” Mabel exclaimed, wanting nothing more than to switch topics, “That’s a clear winner if I ever saw one.” 

The man on the screen was large. Coming from District 2 where they trained to be victors. 

“Hmm,” Dr. Gaul agreed. 

“The interviews were a bad idea,” Coriolanus comments, trying to hide Mabel from the attention, “Prescott only has bad ideas. Why do we let him contribute?”

“Because Prescott’s father is a large contributor to the Games. We all make sacrifices for the good of the Games.” Dr. Gaul returns. 

“We also need the presenters to act more lively. Make it interesting.” 

Coriolanus engaged Dr. Gaul with further adjustments to the Reaping as long as he could while Mabel sat silent and beautiful. 

Coriolanus got nervous the closer the Reaping got to District 12. Mabel was already cracking. 

When she saw her home, would she hit a breaking point? What if she saw her family in the crowd? Could she keep her composure? 

District 4’s interviews finished and the camera shifted to District 5. 

“Mr. Snow tells me you used to wash Peacekeeper uniforms.”

Dr. Gaul had no interest in the Games. The focal point of the evening turned to Mabel. She seemed unphased, drinking liberality. 

“I did.”

Mabel takes a sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving the television. 

“I heard you had quite the reputation back in 12.” 

Coriolanus wanted to interject, to somehow change the conversation to himself but he knew it was the wrong move. Dr. Gaul would only push further if he tried to change directions. 

“Yes, I was quite the washer.” 

He was sure that was it. Mabel’s tongue would be in his hands by tomorrow.

To Coriolanus' surprise, Dr. Gaul began to laugh. A deep chuckle that turned her away from Mabel, and hunched her frame into itself. 

Her hand reached back out once she was done and patted Mabel’s knee. Mabel ignored it but her grip around her glass tightened. 

“You must come to see my laboratory one day, Mabel. Put my experiments to shame.”

Coriolanus felt a swirl of pride go through him. Dr. Gaul was jealous of his pet. 

“You’re asking the wrong person, Dr. Gaul,” Mabel says, ducking her knee from the woman’s hand. 

“Coriolanus,” Mabel directs, “What do you think?”

She had passed the ball back to him, unable to front the fire from Dr Gaul. He could kiss her for it. 

“Maybe, if you are well-behaved enough,” he replies. He takes a sip of his own drink, noticing it was untouched. He too, had to seem unbothered. 

It would never happen though. He would create as much distance as he could between Mabel and Dr. Gaul’s laboratory, He hated it himself. Mutated creatures put on display in glass cabinets. 

Sometimes when he was forced to go there the sound of screaming deafened him. Some were clearly animals, but others seemed too human to dismiss. 

Dr. Gaul began to laugh again, this time letting her company see the thin lines as they appeared on her face to accommodate her laughter. She looked odd smiling. Coriolanus preferred her when she was angry. 

“Oh!” Dr. Gaul crooned, “You’re good at games. I wish I knew that before I let this go on. Maybe you could have helped.”

Her attention was back on the television, and her usual dissatisfied expression was back on her face. 

A District 9 boy was called up on stage amongst the silence

. 

“Yes, this year is far too gloomy to inspire Capitol glory,” Mabel gibbed. 

“Glory?” Mabel piqued Dr.Gaul's interest again, “Is that what you think the Games are for? Capitol glory?” 

Her tone conveyed she thought it was the wrong answer. 

“I think glory does more for Capitol order than sending children to fight to the death ever will.”

“And what does it do?” Dr. Gaul pushes. 

“It reminds us of our place.” Mabel was happy to end the conversation there, and Coriolanus tried to assist her by ordering the avoxes to serve lunch. But Dr. Gaul kept pushing.

“Which is?”

“The losers,” Mabel conceded. Her words sent shivers down Coriolanus’ spine. 

“We lost the war, and we’ve been in limbo between death and the afterlife ever since. Our lives became yours when the war ended. The Capitol’s toys. When you glorify the Games, it reminds us of that, more than the actual Games itself.” 

“My! I want you on the team next year” Dr. Gaul declared, “It took Coriolanus the loss of his lovely locks and a summer as a Peacekeeper to even come close to your conclusion.”

Mabel turns to him, now coming to the realization that he was Dr. Gaul’s pet as much as she was his. 

Dr. Gaul quietens as she eats the delicate food, meticulously prepared.

District 11 was halfway through their interviews. Coriolanus wondered if it was too late to drop his sleeping powder into Mabel's drink.  He could convince Dr Gaul that she had too much to drink. It would embarrass him but surely less than what he knew was to come. 

It would only reflect poorly on his training skills, but Mabel could keep her tongue for only a little bit of Coriolanus’s pride. 

It was too late, District 12 spread across the screen, and both women were no longer interested in conversation. 

“Here’s hoping for Adelaide, Miss Mabel.”  Dr. Gaul raised her drink, and Mable nodded back. 

The presenter in 12 is sluggish as he reaches for a card in the cage. Mabel looked in the crowd for her family. 

“Vera Woodsmith.”

“Ah,” Dr. Gaul mocked, “Don’t worry, Mabel. There’s other ways to get Adelaide.”

“Far be it for me to mess with fate.”

“Is that what you call it? Dr. Gaul brings her glass to her lips, but her thin smile hinders her ability to drink. “Coriolanus?” she adds. 

She was not in the habit of calling him by his first name. It shot shivers down him. 

“I don’t believe in fate,” he mutters, “Only power.”

On-screen the presenter tries to interview Vera Woodsmith but she cannot be heard over her own tears. 

The Peacekeepers take her away when she wouldn't stop wailing and the man draws the name of District 12’s male tribute. 

Coriolanus hoped it would be a past lover of Mabel’s. One less person to hold the memory that Coriolanus had fought so hard to have. 

“James Irkle”. 

The camera follows the boy as he makes his way to the stage. Shoulders up and tense, hands clasped together. His shoes were falling apart as he walked. The sole of his boot as it stuck to the hard gravel could be faintly heard over the silent audience. 

He couldn’t have been one of Mabel's past lovers. The boy was too young, barely 12. But she gasped upon his name as it was drawn.

Mabel shoots up before Coriolanus can stop her. 

“Someone you know?” Asks Dr Gaul. 

“He’s my neighbor's child,” Mabel eyes watch as the child makes his way up the stage steps, “He’s just a kid. Surely someone will volunteer.” 

She watches expectantly but no one rises. 

The presenter continued, lowering the mic stand to the boy's height so he could answer questions. 

“You can stop this.” She turns back to Coriolanus who tried his best not to let his panic show. 

“What would you have me do, Mabel? The name has already been called.” 

“Change the game, isn’t that your job? Make a new rule that it’s between 15-22. You’ll get more viewers.” 

“I am only interested in one viewer right now.”

“Coriolanus, please. He is just a boy. A good boy.” 

“Not the first good boy to die.” Dr. Gaul pushes Mabel a step too far. 

“Shut up.” Mabel snapped. Everyone knew it was the wrong move, but in her anger, she failed to catch herself. 

Dr. Gaul rose from her seat, and Coriolanus followed, unsure of what the unpredictable women planned to do. 

Dr. Gaul raised her hands as if she was going to reach out and touch Mabel but her fingers curled inwards. 

“If I could just get my hands on you.” 

“I am afraid you’re at the back of a very long line.” Mabel quips. Coriolanus wanted to reach out and cover her mouth before she could do any more damage. 

“That line keeps you safe.” 

Mabel throws her hands out, laughing humorlessly as she spins.

“Look around and you tell me how safe it has kept me.” 

Dr. Gaul smiles once more, giving Mabel one final look over before turning back to her successor. 

“An hour, Mr. Snow. I would have your bird singing an entirely different tune.”

A wave of shame overtook Coriolanus. He had failed. He was so close only to have Mabel crack at the last second.

Dr. Gaul leaves Mabel, finding a new victim in Coriolanus. 

“It looks like you still have work to do. I’ll leave you to it, Mr. Snow.” 

She pats his sore shoulder as she passes him. A shoe follows her, narrowly missing her shoulder. 

Dr. Gaul looks back in shock. She had never been bitten by an animal before. 

“Child murderer!” Mabel works on undoing her other heel and manages to pull it back to launch it before Coriolanus can restrain her. 

Dr. Gaul watches as Coriolanus wrestles Mabel to the ground, keeping a firm grip on her wrists, pinning them to her chest as he keeps her tightly against his.

A full belly laugh erupts over the sound of Mabel’s screaming. Under Dr. Gaul's stare, he wished for nothing more than to turn to ash. It reminded him so much of his father’s stare. Or at least from what he could remember. It paralyzed him like it did when he was young. 

He still felt frozen as he watched Dr. Gaul head for the door. Even when the servant closed it behind her, it offered no closure for him. 

His rage, however, slowly returned. 

“Get out. All of you get out!” He demands. 

Mabel had stopped screaming and started crying. He doesn’t release her. His fingers froze around her wrists, his shoulders would not unstiffen nor his legs untangle from hers. 

He wasn’t sure if he was holding her for her own comfort or his own. All he knew was that he couldn’t let go. 

Mabel had done far worse than he could have anticipated. She had piqued Dr. Gaul’s interest. If Mabel merely angered her, the course of action would be apparent, and it left her as the property of Coriolanus at the end of the day. But Dr. Gaul’s interest had a possessive grip. How far would she take it? Would Mabel be left one of those creatures trapped in the laboratory? Could he protect her from it? 

For the first time, Coriolanus felt a pang of guilt for having taken Mabel in the first place. 

He had plucked a flower from its stem and now it lay in his hand, slowly dying. 

tag list;

@bruher

@hiatuswhore

@swimmjacket

@immyowndefender

@namelesslosers

@lovelymoonkiid

@queenofshinigamis

@acidaciruela

@briefwinnerpersonaturtle

@tian-monique

[endless-summer-soldier]

dr. feelgood - chapter one

pairing: Surgeon!Bucky x SurgicalIntern!Reader

summary: Y/N has a one night stand with a handsome stranger the night before starting her new job as a surgical intern. Little does she know, the handsome stranger also happens to be her new boss

warnings: must be 18+, drinking, some surgery descriptions, smut, self-pleasure, praise kink, very minor character death

word count: 1.2k

series playlist: here (I'm still finalizing this so it might change)

taglist: @sebsgirl71479 @ozwriterchick @notmeddy (message me to be added!)

series masterlist

There was a stranger in my bed. A very handsome, naked stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. I rolled onto my back and tried to piece together the events from last night, but all I could remember was tequila. Too much tequila.

I crawled out of bed and headed for the shower, hoping the stranger would sneak out while I was in the bathroom. Today was a big day and being hungover was not part of my plan. I chugged some water and took a few Advil before I rinsed all of last night off my body.

When I walked back into my bedroom, Handsome Stranger was still in bed, but he was awake, which was progress.

“You forgot to invite me into the shower with you,” he said, sitting up in my bed. I gave him a small smile and said, “Let’s not do this. Last night was really fun, but I need you to leave.”

“Kicking me out already? No breakfast? No morning sex?” 

“I’m starting a new job this morning and I really need to get ready,” I said. I grabbed the stranger’s clothes from the floor and tossed them at him.

“Wow, you really are kicking me out. This is going to impact your rating in my little black book.”

“Do you even remember my name?” I asked.

“Is it Lindsey? You look like a Lindsey.”

I chuckled, “It’s not Lindsey.”

“Okay, well I may not remember your name but I do remember the mind-blowing sex we had last night.”

“Can’t argue with you there.” I walked over towards him wrapped only in my towel and held my hand out, “Y/N”

“Bucky,” he took my hand and gave it a solid squeeze before letting go.

“Look Bucky, I’m sure you’re really great but I can’t do this right now. I have to focus on my career. Yes, I had a great time last night, but this can’t happen again. So I really do need you to go.”

He held both hands up in surrender, “Fair enough, I appreciate the honesty. I will get out of your hair.” He took his clothes from the heap on the bed and started putting them back on. I retreated back to the bathroom to dry my hair and brush my teeth. I let Bucky collect his things and leave without another word, avoiding any further awkward conversation.

I finished getting ready and could swear I smelled coffee, likely just my brain tricking me. When I departed down the stairs I heard the coffee maker brewing and froze, knowing I didn’t start the machine. There was a note scribbled on the white board attached to my fridge that read:

Good luck on your first day. Coffee’s on me :) - B

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered to myself. At least he didn’t leave his phone number because I might’ve been tempted to text him. A new guy was the last thing I needed right now. So I poured myself a travel mug full of coffee and departed for the hospital.

It was strange to be dressed in periwinkle scrubs and a lab coat. All through medical school, I dreamed of this moment, when I would finally be a surgeon. And yet, putting on the scrubs felt wildly underwhelming.

I stood in a group with my fellow interns as our resident, Dr. Palmer gave us a tour of the hospital and a run down of our basic expectations. I exchanged glances with a few of the interns in my group, but we didn’t have an opportunity to talk much.

The first day was fairly routine. We each had a chance to present on a patient and answer questions that Palmer asked us. The cases were all fairly routine which was a relief. Then we were sent off to the ER to complete basic examinations, take blood, and sew sutures. They were easing us in, which was a relief since I was still a little hungover, but I knew in the coming weeks we would be exposed to more and more.

Dr. Palmer introduced us to Dr. Stephen Strange, who was a world renowned neurosurgeon and apparently Palmer’s fiance. It wasn’t uncommon for doctors to be involved with fellow doctors because our work schedules were so demanding. Strange was curt and arrogant, but clearly highly intelligent and it would be a great experience to work underneath him. But I was most eager to meet the Head of Trauma, Dr. James Barnes. I’d read a lot of his articles and respected his resourcefulness as a former doctor for the Army. He had the kind of experience that couldn’t be taught in a hospital and I wanted to soak up as much of his knowledge as he was willing to give.

About halfway through the 12-hour shift, I found my way to the break room for a cup of coffee. The coffee pot was steaming which was fortunate because it meant a fresh pot had just been brewed. I poured myself a generous cup and added just a splash of cream. 

As I took my first sip, a voice called from behind me, “Not as good as tequila, but it works wonders.” 

I spun around and found handsome stranger smirking at me, clad in navy scrubs and a white lab coat. 

I’m sure my jaw was on the floor, but I did my best to cover up my shock, “What are you doing here?”

He walked over toward me and poured himself a cup of coffee, “I could ask you the same thing. Was my coffee this morning so good that you had to come here for more?”

I was too stunned to respond to his sarcasm, “I’m sorry, do you work here?”

He looked at me patronizingly. “What does it look like?” He held his arms out, drawing my attention to his scrubs.

This couldn’t be real. I was about to pinch myself to test out my pain receptors when I caught a whiff of him. Ginger, bergamot, and citrus. The same heavenly scent that I had inhaled when I made my bed this morning.

 “So this is the new job, huh?” he asked me. I couldn’t even formulate a response but he didn’t miss a beat, “Very impressive, truly. This is one of the best programs in the country.” I simply nodded, trying to calculate the quickest way out of this conversation.

Luckily I was saved by my resident. Dr. Palmer entered the break room and interrupted the conversation.

“Dr. Barnes, I see you’ve met one of my interns.”

My heart dropped into my stomach. Handsome stranger was Dr. Barnes. The Dr. James Barnes who I’ve admired for years and was incredibly excited to work with. And I drunkenly slept with him last night without even knowing who he was. I could feel my career slipping through my fingers.

“Yes, I was just about to introduce myself,” he stated. He extended a hand to me, “Dr. James Barnes, Head of Trauma.”

“Dr. Barnes, pleasure to meet you,” I faked enthusiasm. “I’m Dr. Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

“Dr. Y/L/N actually has a special interest in trauma, if I remember correctly,” Palmer added. 

“Is that so?” Barnes said, looking at me with amusement. I merely nodded with a smile and he said, “Well, it sounds like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. If you’ll excuse me, I have to scrub into the OR in about 30 minutes.”  

He walked out of the break room but then popped his head back in, “Looking forward to working with you Dr. Y/L/N.” I could see Dr. Palmer trying to piece together the interaction so I scurried out of the room before she could question me.

next chapter

[gorgonwrites]

bound to you, part 3

diluc x fem!reader

wc: 1, 844

author's note: im really edging all of us with this rn goddamn

cw: fem!reader, 18+, no *actual* smut in this chapter but smut from last part is mentioned, MDNI!!!, mentions of anxiety, reader is DEF hiding her feelings, diluc is a soft man because i say so. cheesy "where is my wife" mentioned bc i live for that shit

Did you really leave your door open? You frowned, sitting up in your bed. You were almost positive you closed it, but you had been so needy earlier that your memory felt blurry. You were quiet, though, and no one had a room near your chambers. You fell back onto your pillows, looking out your window at the night sky. Did you really just come undone on your fingers, singing praises to your absent husband? The thought annoyed you, reminding yourself that Diluc pulled away from your touch just this afternoon. You rolled your eyes at the thought and turned away from your window. You considered whether or not you really wanted to know more about your husband, or if your lust earlier had completely clouded your mind. It was definitely lust, nothing more you reasoned. As you kept going over the afternoon’s events, you slowly drifted to sleep in hopes of coming to a better conclusion tomorrow. 

“What do you mean he left this morning? I thought he was finished with business for the season?” you were interrogating Adelinde while you ate your breakfast. Diluc had left the winery and no one knew when he would return. 

“Like I said my Lady, sometimes Diluc has to go away for weeks on end. It can be sudden, but we get along just fine. Don’t worry too much, okay?” you stared at her and finally let out a huff. 

“He said he would spend time with me,” you grumbled, “Not that I care. He can’t stand being near me anyways.” you quickly added after seeing Adelinde’s satisfied smirk as you pouted over your husband’s absence. As she began to clear your dishes from the table, you crossed your arms over your chest. How long would he be away this time? 

After a few days of following Adelinde around begging her to give you anything to do, you finally gave up. Your restlessness knew no end, and you were close to leaving the manor to travel back to Fontaine just to have something to do. As you began to actually consider that thought, there was a loud knock on the manor’s front door. You excitedly bolted to the entrance of the manor, ready to give your husband a piece of your mind. You ran past several maids who were also making their way down to the parlor to greet their unannounced guest. You arrived at the door out of breath, and stood for a moment to compose yourself and smooth your hair before you opened it. To your dismay, it wasn’t your husband on the other side. A young woman with ears and two tails stood in front of you with a package. 

“Lady y/n? Kirara. I have a delivery here for you from Liyue!” you stared at her, dumbstruck. You didn’t know anyone from Liyue. Confused, you remained silent. Kirara furrowed her brows, checking her delivery address again. 

“Lady y/n. That’s you, right? This is the Ragnvindr residence?” 

“Ah, yes it is, I apologize for my behavior. I���ll take that.” You gently took the package from her hands, and smiled as the young woman ran off to continue her delivery route. You looked at the name on the package. Lady y/n Ragnvindr. It still felt strange seeing your husband's last name after your own. Feeling the maid’s eyes on you in the parlor, you excused yourself to your chambers where you could open the box privately. 

You sat on your bed with the package in your lap, carefully snipping the strings that held it shut. You opened it and found beautiful red packaging paper inside with a small note on top. It read:

I have heard that this is the best paint in all of Teyvat, hand crafted by an Adeptus here in Liyue. Use them to your heart’s content.

-D

It couldn’t be. You continued to unwrap your gift, only to discover an assortment of paint that you had only ever dreamed of. It was indeed handcrafted by a reclusive Adeptus from Liyue, and it was incredibly expensive. Considering all of the colors your husband purchased for you, it meant he had given up a hefty sum for them. Your breath hitched in your chest, and you brought the note to your lips. What would you paint? You briefly thought about repainting Diluc’s portrait but you were quickly engulfed by embarrassment just at the thought. What about the Winery? And the vineyard! They were two things that were incredibly important to your husband. You bolted upright and immediately began gathering your things to set up an easel and canvas outside for the perfect view. 

After Adelinde helped you set up your easel on a hill across from the Winery, you quickly got to work. The paints were so smooth and so pigmented you wanted to jump from the excitement. You spent hours that afternoon painting, your mind drifting off peacefully as you worked. Each day you woke up, ate breakfast, and spent hours on that hill trying to capture your home on the canvas perfectly. After a week, you felt you were close to being finished. You just needed a hint of azure blue to finish the sky. You turned too quickly and knocked your paints and brushes all over the ground. With a huff, you crouched to clean up your mess. 

Diluc was relieved to be home. He was only gone for a week and a half this time, but he was exhausted. Adelinde greeted him in the parlor, delegating tasks to the maids so he didn’t have to lift a finger as soon as he walked inside. He sighed with relief. 

“Thank you, Addy. I’m happy to be home.” Adelinde tsked at the old nickname, but she greeted Diluc with a smile.

“Welcome home, Master Diluc. Would you like to change into something more comfortable?” He did, actually, and he wanted to find you as well to apologize for his abrupt absence. While he had been almost too worn out to venture out to Liyue to tie up some loose ends on wine deliveries to Sumeru, he was grateful for the distance after accidentally stumbling upon you touching yourself as his name fell from your lips. 

Damn it, he thought. Of course he was rock hard as soon as the memory flared in his mind. He changed slowly, to let himself regain his composure before he started searching the manor for you. He first went to your chambers, prepared to be more careful than last time. Your door was ajar, though, and he stepped inside only to be greeted by the quiet breeze blowing in from your window. He slowly explored the room, trying to control his urge to pry. He did, however, notice a note at your bedside. It was the handwritten note he sent with your paints. Seeing it set out made him smile, his anxiety being replaced with a warmth blooming in his chest. He moved on, searching the main rooms and even the kitchen in the manor. His anxiety crept back into its permanent home in his chest, and he quickened his pace. He became increasingly stressed after each room, realizing there was no sign of you anywhere. Diluc found Adelinde again in the parlor, agitated.

“Where is my wife?” it sounded more aggressive than he intended, but he was beginning to tire from your continued pushing of his boundaries. He’d give you anything Teyvat had to offer, if only you’d ask. He simply wanted you to stay within the safety his manor provided while he was away. 

“Your wife is outside working, Master Diluc.” Adelinde’s usual playful tone was absent from her voice. Diluc rubbed his palms over his face, ready to crack. This was another boundary you continued to push. He appreciated the enthusiasm you displayed, truly he did. He knew his employees adored it about you as well, but as the Master and last remaining heir of the Ragnvindr clan, he felt there were expectations he needed to meet. One of them being his wife not working tirelessly out in the vineyards. Normally Diluc could care less for expectations but with the Lords of Fontaine breathing down his neck, he became increasingly aware that he sometimes needed to play by the rules. He took a slow breath, and thanked Adelinde before heading out to find you. 

You finished cleaning up the last of your brushes, carefully picking out each strand of grass that was entangled in the bristles. Satisfied with your work, you turned around and slammed right into your husband's broad chest. You look up, only to see his amused face looking back at you. He seemed relieved about something. You push away from him, trying to create some distance between you. He reaches out and swipes a smear of green paint from your sunburned cheeks. 

“Beautiful.” he whispers, his touch lingering. You see the crinkles around his eyes form and you chance a quick look at his lips. 

“The painting, of course.” Diluc grins as your expression sours. You could only grumble wordlessly in response. You turned away, hoping to put the final touches on your painting in peace. Your husband didn’t leave, though, and you became increasingly fidgety under his watchful gaze. 

“I don’t think I meant to paint for an audience when I came out here.” you were doing everything you could to stifle the joy you felt knowing Diluc was home. The manor felt emptier than usual when he was gone this time but you’d never admit that. You began to consider backing out of your plan of giving this painting to him- it felt too personal. Though you did consider the paints he bought you to be a very personal gift, even if he had no idea that you’d always wanted them. 

“You’ve been putting them to good use, I see.” he sounded proud of himself. 

“Yes, I have.” you turned and met his gaze, “Thank you, so much. I actually painted this… for you.” You felt a flush rising to your cheeks and you hoped your face was pink enough to disguise it. He tilted his head, and glanced between you and the painting. You continued,

“I know they cost a fortune. You shouldn’t have.” 

“It's the least I could do for you, after leaving so quickly. I wanted to apologize for my absence.” That was a first. Usually Diluc came and left the winery without a word. Up until recently you both had avoided each other easily, unconcerned with unnecessary chatter. 

“Oh, I- please don’t apologize. I understand how busy you are, there’s no need to dwell on it.” you began to turn away again, but Diluc caught your hand in one of his own. This time it was you that recoiled from the sudden touch, surprised that he’d reach out to you so casually. Your gazes locked, and you could feel your steeled resolve melting by the second. 

“Master Dil- ah… Diluc. Would you like to paint with me this afternoon? 

[stayandot8]

Chapter Three, Part Two: Hell's Reign

series summary: this one is a little different than anything else I've written. An AU where the members work in a bar with my MC, no idols among them. It's also going to be on the longer side. The fluffy Chris we know and love is nowhere to be found. He's broodier, moodier, and has jokes up the wazoo. So buckle up, kitties. This one's gonna be good 😏.

inspo: the song by Fall Out Boy.

Genre: i'm not really sure tbh

Relationship type: ???

Important Contents: bar setting, so mentions of alcohol, chris is a lowkey-highkey dick, swearing as usual, 18+, mentions of dr*gs, death of a child, mentions of a g*n (if i miss any, please let me know)

a/n: HOOOOOO BOY, we been waitin on this one for a while, huh. Sorry for those of you who are actually reading this series, the creative process takes a lot out of you, especially when you have no time on your hands. BUT here is the next part, fully finished. I hope it lives up to your expectations. I don't know when the last part will be out, so I guess follow me if you aren't already? If you want to? Anyways... enjoy. :)

WC: 12.9k

Last part l Next Part I masterlist

~

My feet had never been lighter as I followed Minho out of my room and down the stairs. Once I was out of earshot of the slumbering boy upstairs, I let the panic set in.

“Minho?” He was quiet, moving about to find the things he needed. Grabbing a coffee pod and inserting it into the machine while finding a mug. He simply opened the cabinet and grabbed one, completely ignoring the mug with cats on it. That’s when I knew he wasn’t really all there. He shuffled over to place the mug under the machine to catch the coffee and pushed the start button. He didn’t turn around. 

“Minho? “ Nothing. He just stared as the machine whirred to life and the smell of coffee hit me. Awakened my senses. 

“Minho, please.” I hated how my voice sounded, pleading and high-pitched. Like I was about to cry. “Please let me explain.”

“You don’t need to.” His back was starting to piss me off, my desperation turning to anger. I just wished he would turn around and look at me. 

“I feel like I do. Nothing happened. Not last night. He couldn’t sleep, he said Changbin was snoring really loud so he couldn’t-”

“What do you mean ‘not last night’? Has something happened between you before last night?” He finally turned to face me, his features hard. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He was good at that mask of coolness, acting like nothing mattered to him. He was cool as ice, his eyes shuttering closed and giving nothing away. It was like he was trying very hard not to show any emotion. The twitches of his mouth were the only sign I had that he was still breathing. He wanted to say something, he just wasn’t saying it.

I stood there, silent. Watching him and opening and closing my mouth to say something. Anything. But nothing was coming. There was nothing I could do to combat the hurt he unknowingly exposed. I knew that deep down. What I didn’t understand was why he felt hurt. 

His eyes kept flitting between my chin and his cup, steam rising up and disappearing into the air. He would watch it fade from view, then come back to my chin, not willing to look me in the eye. 

“The night before last…” I started, voice barely above a whisper. “He waited for me while I was closing up. We got into an argument and he told me…things. Things I couldn’t…ignore. And he kissed me. And I didn’t stop him.” I said all of this to the floor, my stomach doing flips. 

“Well that makes sense.” Was the only thing he said, but the way he whispered it, I could tell it wasn’t meant for me. I made a mental note to ask him later. All I could focus on now was how he felt right now. 

What I still couldn’t figure out was why I felt like a child getting caught sneaking out in the middle of the night. I hadn’t done anything wrong, so why did I feel such shame and guilt creeping up through my spine, locking my throat? Why was Minho’s gaze so hard to meet? Why did it feel like more than just an older brother being concerned for me? Why wasn’t he saying anything? 

I took a few deep breaths and chanced meeting his eyes, which weren’t on me. They were glued to the view out the window behind me, jaw clenched. He looked strained with the weight of the words he wasn’t saying. Each rise and fall of his chest pushing them deeper and deeper until they hit the bottom, to be locked away. The tension he was creating with the silence grew with every passing minute, becoming tangible. My hands found solace in fiddling with my own cuticles, picking and messing with them in every which way I could. 

“Minho, please.” I repeated. “Say something. Anything. Yell at me, scream at me, hit something, just do something other than stare out the window.” His tongue licked his lips quickly, then returned inside his closed lips. He blinked rapidly, eyes never settling on one place for very long. He swallowed. Loud. 

“I just…” He trailed off. He bit his lower lip for a second before giving me what I wanted this whole time. He looked me straight in my eye and said, “I didn’t know you dated coworkers.” His shoulders sagged, deflated, and his head lowered. He stared back down at his feet, finally finding a spot to land on. He shuffled his slippered feet, crossing one over the other while he leaned on the counter. 

My head reeled. That was the last thing I thought he would say. I said as much. 

He scoffed, but looked up at me expectantly, like he was waiting for an answer to a question he didn’t ask. I let my head fall in confusion. 

“Is that what this is about? Me dating a coworker? I never knew of a rule against that.”

“There isn’t. I don’t care if people date each other in the workplace, as long as it doesn’t affect their work. I just didn’t know you did.”

“But why does that matter?”

He sighed. “It matters.” To me.

I stared at him.  Couldn’t do anything else. The silence in my head was now replaced with a million questions. I had been in front of him this whole time yet I didn’t see him until now. My quiet, stubborn, kind-hearted friend and his quirks all wrapped into this man before me, fighting his better judgment. The inner battle he was losing was evident in his frown lines.

“Minho?”

“I was-” Footsteps up the stairs, heavy and a sound like someone dragging something soft with them. Minho’s eyes went wide again and he turned his back to me, to whoever was coming down the stairs. Felix appeared, a blanket wrapped around himself, his blue hair disheveled and eyes drooping. 

“What- Why are you guys up?”  I glanced at Minho's back and sighed. 

“Nothing. Just too excited to be here I guess. Didn’t sleep much.” Minho said nothing. The tension I was feeling mere moments ago was fleeing, as if it too didn’t want to be a part of this. Part of what, I didn’t understand. I watched Felix move about to start making something for himself, moving around the stationary Minho and completely oblivious in his half-awake state. Clatter of pans and the frying of eggs were the only sounds coming from this room, the ceiling creaking about with the others starting to wake and walk around. I was staring at the marble of the kitchen island, trying to make sense of it all. 

Then it hit me.

Like a ton of bricks.

Space.

I needed space. 

The house was too loud, too crowded for such a large temporary oasis. The open kitchen-to-living room was suddenly too close, pushing in and squeezing any air that was left in the room. It was quickly very hard to breathe. Ragged breaths were all I could manage. 

I felt a hand on the small of my back. Chris appeared out of nowhere at my side, looking very concerned. He searched my eyes for what might be ailing me, but it was all a whirlwind of confusion, anxiousness, and nerves of giving something away before I could tell him myself. 

“I’m… going to get some sea air.” I stood, moving out from Chris’s grip and headed for my shoes by the door. Chris followed me, his basketball shorts swinging with every step and tshirt hanging loose on his torso. 

“Do you want me to go with you?” He said just low enough for me to hear. I shook my head.

“No, it’s fine. I just need some air.” And I left him standing in the door, looking like a puppy being abandoned by its owner. I glanced back as I shut the door and Minho’s eyes were watching me walk out, a similar look reflecting back to me.

*

Even surrounded by the calming aura of the sea, my mind was still reeling. My hands were running mindlessly through the sand, my mind elsewhere occupied. 

Minho had feelings for me. That was all that was bouncing within the walls of my skull, going from one side to the other. 

Minho has feelings for me. Has? Had? It seemed current, ongoing. So many questions were coming to me in between the waves of shock running through me. 

How long has he felt like this? Why say something now? Why didn’t he say anything sooner? He had plenty of opportunities. We’ve only been working together forever. We’ve only known each other all our lives. Why did he never say a word? Or did he show signs and I just never saw them. 

The Minho I knew wasn’t very expressive. Often coming across cold and unfeeling, he was never one that was easy to catch on to until he had already done what he was going to do. He laughed quietly, except when he didn’t. He found no one funnier than himself though. His jokes were the funniest to him. When he wasn’t overwhelmed with work, he actually was one of the funniest people I knew. 

Ah, Minho at work. He got buried too often. Or maybe he buried himself? Oh god, did he bury himself in his work to distract himself from his surroundings? Namely, me? No, there’s no way. He just focuses easily on it. He loves it. Doesn’t he?

Everything was coming too quickly, too fast for me to comprehend. I tried to let the sea drown out the thoughts when two people plopped down beside me in the sand. I knew from the smells of old dough and cologne that it was Felix and Hyunjin. I didn’t bother turning my head from the water. 

They sat with me, silent and following my gaze out into the nothingness. Felix leaned his head on my shoulder, the weight of his head bringing me back down from my thundercloud of thoughts. I brought my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. The blanket of safety I needed while I had these two friends with me along with the silence. Hyunjin broke it first. 

“You really didn’t know?” 

I snapped my head to him, eyes bewildered. He kept staring straight ahead, either completely oblivious or pointedly ignoring my stare.

“You did?” He nodded.

“We all did. We thought he would die before telling you.” Hyunjin said it slowly, like he was weighing the words on a scale before he used them. 

“And he told everyone but me?” Felix picked his head up before shaking it.

“No, he didn’t tell anyone. We just…picked it up from watching him with you. No one told us. We just know how he is with you versus how he is with other people. He’s softer, less… troublesome with you.”

“I beg to differ, Lix. He gives me all kinds of shit! You guys just don’t see it.”

“Maybe,” he replied “but I would bet you that everyone else would say otherwise.” His deep voice was soft, carefully laying the words at my feet for examination. For the first time since they sat down, I looked at each of them. Hyunjin was cautious, a little apprehensive and bit his bottom lip while he watched me. He met my eyes, giving me an apologetic look. 

“Really?” I said, quiet. He nodded slowly. I sighed and looked to Felix, whose head was still on my shoulder in his version of comfort. He shifted to look at me without moving off my shoulder. His eyes were wide and I have never hated that look more than this moment. I couldn’t say no to him, I would give him anything he wanted. “And what do you want?”

“I want to get this burden off of you. It just seems like it’s a lot for you right now.” 

“You have no idea.” I went back to the ocean, longing to be a simple piece of seaweed just floating in the water. My life would be so simple if I was just another piece of greenery with no feelings, nothing to care about, no one to answer to or listen. 

“Hey, we’re gonna leave you to think. Just…” They stood up, brushing the sand off their pants for the walk back. Hunjin had gotten a head start while Felix had started walking backwards, still facing me. “Don’t be out here too long. People” he widened his eyes at me, putting even more emphasis on the word, “will start to worry.” I nodded once, knowing exactly which people he was referring to. I wondered what he was doing through all of this, if he too would join me out here.

Well, I should have known better than to doubt that he would.

The sun was almost straight above me, signaling midday. It was a nice day to be at the beach if you weren’t me. More people had crowded the beach here, enough where there was noise to distract me. Shirtless guys playing volleyball, families laying out on blankets and old sheets, kids playing with their toys and shouting for their parents' attention were all around me. I was watching one particular group of older teens pushing and shoving each other playfully when another presence approached me. 

Minho walked quietly on normal ground, but he was even softer on sand. He mimicked my position, knees up to his chest with his arms circling them. He joined his hands together in nervous wringing as he found what I was watching. 

“They’ll get burned to a crisp.” A puff of air escaped my nose in a chuckle. We watched them run around for a while before my thoughts and questions burst through the dam. 

“How long?” A deep sigh. 

“Almost 10 years.” 

“It started at 15?” I asked incredulously. I saw him nod through the corner of my eye. “How?”

“I couldn’t tell you the exact moment. It was like I woke up one day and realized ‘hey, you’re in love with your best friend.’ Which was immediately followed by a ‘fuck, you’re in love with your best friend.’ And there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing to slow down, nothing to catch me from feeling this way. It was like it was… always there. Just waiting to be tapped alive.” 

I couldn’t believe it. Was I just too naive to realize it? Or was he just that good at hiding it?

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was waiting to see if there was any spark there, anything to tell me that you were into me too. And I was waiting and waiting and waiting. I watched the boyfriends come and go. I watch you flirt with customers. I knew what it looked like when you liked someone, so I looked for those signs. I looked for them with the guys and I didn’t find any. I thought you just didn’t like guys you worked with so I just sat back. I knew I couldn’t let the restaurant go, and there was no way in hell I was firing you so I suffered in silence. I didn’t think that would change. Yet here we are.”

“Here we are.” I was scared to look at him, afraid of the vulnerability I would find. I didn’t think I was ready for it. I had never seen him not be his sarcastic, stubborn, sometimes abrasive self. This was a new side of him I hadn’t been able to see. But I couldn’t help wondering… “What now?”

“Well…” He turned to me, forcing me to finally return that piercing gaze. I was right to be afraid of what I would see. I swallowed hard. “I know you. I know how you think. I know how you are. If you had feelings for me, you would have felt them already.” I tried to protest, the words forming on the tip of my tongue. He held up his hand to stop me. “It’s true and you know it.” That sad smile broke my heart. “Besides, now that you know, if you told me you returned those feelings, I don’t think I would believe you. Not truly. I would think that you were just saying it to ease the blow.” He put his hand on my knee. “We’re fine, I promise. I’ll just need some time to grieve. I don’t want this to turn into some… choice you have to make. Between me and him. It would create drama that we don’t need and honestly, I can’t stand the thought of losing you. So I’m removing myself from the equation. Forget I said anything and let’s just go back to how things were.”

“That’s the thing, Minho. I don’t know if I can. Now I’m going to read into everything you do and wonder if you’re telling me the truth.”

“But I’ve never lied to you.”

“A lie of omission is still a lie.” To that, he was silent. “Exactly.”

“Just give me some time. You’ll see, it’ll be fine.” I turned my eyes to him again. “Do you still want to be my friend?”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Then just give me time. Nothing has to change.” It was my turn to be silent, doubtful of his words. 

I didn’t want to lose him either. I wanted to tell him, but the words wouldn’t come out. He meant the world to me. I couldn’t, I wouldn’t lose him. But now everything he did I would have to look at differently. Reading into every word he said like I would find something there if I looked hard enough. 

“Now, if you’re going to pursue things with Chris, you need to make sure he’s telling you everything. Don’t push it, let him come to you. But make sure he tells you about his family before you two get…serious.”

“We’re not officially together. Not yet.”

“‘Yet’. There’s that word again.”

“What did you mean earlier? When you said ‘it makes sense’?”

“He asked me if I was into you and I never gave him a straight answer. I didn’t deny it outright. Not until later.”

“So he suspected it too? Wow, did everyone know but me?”

“I denied it to everyone who asked. After the first couple times, the others just stopped asking. I figured they had dropped it.”

“They took your denial as just the opposite. Hyunjin just told me that they all knew.” Minho nodded. 

“That makes sense too. They never asked me about it again so I assumed they dropped it.” Hmm.

“Is that why he was so cold towards me in the beginning? Chris?”

“I don’t know for sure. You’ll have to ask him.” I nodded and took in our surroundings one last time for the day. I had already spent too much time here. I needed to talk to Chris. 

We walked back together, not really saying much. I was still processing all that he had said to me. I think he was doing the same, accepting the fate he had resigned himself to. 

Walking up that long driveway, we could see that a figure was sitting on the stairs leading up to the front door. Sounds of splashing and laughter came from the backyard, yells and shrieks from the other boys of laughter and playful shouting. Minho was a few steps behind me, trailing me the whole way. As the figure came more and more into view, Chris had dressed in jean shorts and a white t-shirt with a band I hadn’t heard of. His hat was backwards as he picked at his cuticles and tried to act like he wasn’t waiting for us to come back. When we reached his earshot, his head shot up. He looked confused as to whether he should stand up or not. I stopped just short of him, giving him no indication of what was said over the past few hours. The only thing me and Minho talked about was that I should be the one to talk to Chris about everything. 

Minho walked past me up the steps, giving me a small pat on the back before I sat next to Chris. I picked a spot of rocks on the driveway to focus on, deciding it would be the only thing I look at while I got everything out. I was struggling with how to start, but Chris decided for me. 

“So… What the fuck? What was all that?”

“That… was the culmination of years and years of pining.” I turned to look him in the eye, wanting him to know that I didn’t enjoy this part at all. “He’s been lying to you. He does- did have feelings for me. He never told me or anyone else.” 

“What?”

“Yep. He didn’t even tell me directly. I figured it out. And this was the one time he didn’t deny it.” I turned to fully face him, watching his facial expression turn from confused to slightly angry. “He peeked in my room this morning and saw your arm around me. I wouldn’t have been so concerned but his face when he realized what he was seeing… I never want to see that face again. It was this mixture of sadness and anger and pain that I have never seen before. So I ran after him.

“And that’s when we started talking in the kitchen when we got interrupted by Felix. That was when it clicked. He was talking about not knowing that I dated coworkers and I thought it was weird until he wouldn’t look at me while I was explaining. I think that was the moment it actually clicked for me. He said something about something making sense and when I asked him about it, he said that you asked him if he had feelings for you. He said he denied it. Has denied it every time he’s been asked.”

“I asked him when I realized my own feelings. It was at the same time that I noticed he treated you differently from the rest of the crew. When he denied it, I thought it was because you were friends for so long. It was the only reason I could come up with.”

“So then why did you treat me like I wasn’t worth your time?”

“He just talked about you so much, I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. It wasn’t until about a month in that it finally clicked. I was fighting it, I didn’t want to fall victim to it too. But that all changed for me when you started training me. I got to see you. I saw what everyone else saw. And I was pissed about it. I had fallen for you and I was fighting it so hard. But you broke down every wall I had built, just by being you.” 

Everyone was dropping so many bombs at my feet today. I hardly had the brain power to process it all. I thought this weekend would be fun, a time for all of us to relax. I didn’t think it would end up like this. Well, why stop the bombs now? I dove in head first.

“Tell me about your family.” Chris’s face hardened from the open and soft glow he had while he was telling me his feelings. From confessing more about how his feelings had come about to being forced to bring up a subject I was sure he wasn’t ready to talk about. He was pushing himself to tell me. I was pushing him, dying to know what Minho thought was important that I should know before he and I moved forward.  

Chris looked at me, apprehensive and wringing his hands just like Minho had earlier today. That particular nervous tick they had in common. They reminded me more and more of each other with every passing day. Chris swallowed hard and looked behind him to the front door to check for any eavesdroppers. Then picked a spot on the gravel in front of him just like I had. And it all came tumbling out.

“You weren’t… far off with your accusation of drug deals. My father was the one who brought me into it. Said he wanted to retire and do his own thing and pass it on to me to take care of everything. He got so caught up with leaving me with the responsibility and teaching me how to do things properly that he slipped up on his boss and he ran my father out of town. I spent the next two years trying to right his wrong and get him back. My mother was devastated. And pregnant with her fourth child.

 “I had two younger brothers. Lucas was close with my sister but the baby, Daniel, wouldn't leave my side no matter where I went. Those pictures you found in that box, those were the ones I took with me before I left. Those are the only pictures we have together. He was the one who understood what I was going through without me telling him. He had a talent for feeling your emotions without you having to say it. He was the sunshine that came out of the shadows of my father running. Daniel was always trying to make Lucas and Hannah laugh every day. He was so young and already wanted to make everyone around him happy. I wanted to take him everywhere, make up for my dad being a piece of shit that ran out on him. And he came along too, just to be a part of it all. I kept him away from that dark part of our life, the life my father thrust on me to take care of them. The problem was the room we shared. Daniel always wondered where I went in the middle of the night without him. He would wake up after I put him to bed and question me until he was out of breath and I got him to go back to sleep again. I was very late to a lot of deals because of him. About three years ago, he followed me to a deal and hid in the corner of the alleyway where no one could see him. I thought I was being careful enough that I wasn’t being tailed. But he was smaller, quicker, could hide easily. Well, the deal took a wrong turn, something about there not being enough for what he paid for. He brought out his ‘backup’ and started shooting, two warning shots off to the side. And I heard the smallest of gasps from behind the shadows.

“I’ll never forget the way his little body collapsed to the ground. It haunts me every night in my dreams. Everyone ran. I found someone on the side of the street to call for help but by the time the ambulance came…” He shook his head, his bottom lip starting to quiver. He drew some calming breaths, fighting the welling I could see coming from him. I could see the anger, the pain of it all in those tears. He was fighting these emotions too.

“That’s how I know Minho. He was in the hospital for his dad in a random town, my town, and he saw me pacing and waiting for my mother. I can’t imagine how I must have looked for him to approach me that night. He said he overheard what I told the nurse and put two and two together since the town we were living in at the time was known for shit like that. I didn’t say anything, didn’t confess or deny it. And then the fucker sat down and he waited. He started telling me this story about how his dream used to be to become a professional dancer. I thought he was fucking nuts, talking to this random guy about his dreams. But what I didn’t know at the time was that he was waiting with me for my family to come so I wouldn’t be alone in a hospital. 

“He gave me a piece of paper with his number on it and told me if I ever needed a way out, to give him a call. I don’t know what he saw in me that day, probably a broken soul with no way to change his circumstances but I couldn’t face my family after what had just happened. I couldn’t… wake up every day in that house, knowing what I had done to them. I didn’t deserve any kindness from them. So I ran too. I left my sister, my brother, and my mother all to deal with the mess of what I had done. I’d been living with friends and friends of friends for years, just trying to make ends meet and keep up with demand until Minho called me again a couple months ago and told me he had a job for me. So I packed up my duffel and hopped on the bus until I got here.”

I was in tears by the time he was done. We both were, as much as he tried to fight it. His breaths were shaky as he tried to regain his composure. 

“What you saw that night was when they caught up to me. I hadn't seen them since. They couldn’t find me, they said. But now they have. I don’t want to fuck this up, I like being here. I don’t want to have to run again.”

Wiping the tears that had fallen, my fingers were now slightly wet. I wasn’t sure how my voice would sound if I were to speak, but I had to ask. 

“Have they come back since?” He swallowed again and kept staring at the ground. I couldn’t help the slight anger that arose. What the fuck.

“It’s not like I wanted them to come. They have people everywhere. I can’t ever get away. I’ll always be dragged back there. Hell, I moved four towns over and they still found me.”

“What do they want from you? Why won’t they leave you alone?”

“He keeps saying I need to pay back my fathers mistakes. More deals I do, the less that I owe. I was hoping that if I made enough here, I could pay them and they would leave, but they haven’t yet. More things keep getting tacked on to the bill and it’s just a never-ending list.” He ran his hands up his face and into his hair and groaned. “If I could be done with it, I would.” He sniffled and wiped his tear-stained face again. 

“Thank you. For telling me.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I had no words for what he just told me and I was trying not to let it show. He started, seemingly surprised to hear me say that. “You haven’t told anyone else that, have you.” Not really a question. 

“I told Minho when I got here. But he’s the only one who knows.” I nodded. “What a way to ruin a romantic trip, huh.”

“It’s not ruined.” I put a hand on his back, trying to reassure him and myself. “Just had a couple wrenches thrown in. But there’s still two more days until we have to go back home. Let’s just…try to enjoy this as much as we can, yeah?” He plucked up his best smile, which came off tighter than what I was used to. His effortless glow was dull now, tired and emotionally exhausted. I had to admit that I was too. 

*

Mini golfing had been Changbin’s idea. Something about showing off another one of his ‘many talents’. All of us rolled our eyes. 

“Ah yes, something else Changbin can hold over our heads for the rest of the trip.” Seungmin had a point. Changbin loved beating us at sports and games and such and then never letting us live it down. Bowling was always his first choice, but we had all talked him out of it, especially since there weren’t really any bowling alleys around this area of town. But what they lacked in bowling alleys, they made up for in other activities. Mini golfing was one of them.

We all piled into the minivan Minho had rented for us. The ride there was filled with all kinds of smack-talk, more yelling and shouting. There was never a moment of peace around here. 

The spot Changbin picked was an outdoor place with a Jungle theme. It had a huge plastic monkey out front that you had to enter under. The open way to the front desk was littered with people who were thinking the same as us; just wanting to get out of the house and do something together. What they didn’t know was how our group handled such activities.

Hyunjin and Felix were “fighting” over who got the blue putter while Minho and Seungmin were mercilessly teasing Changnin about how they would beat him at his own suggestion. Chris had taken Han to find where the staff kept the golf balls, which left myself and Jeongin to meander once we found which putter we wanted to use. I opted for the pink one, of course. 

“Why are they so mean to him sometimes?” Jeongin asked, watching Minho and Seungmin. 

“It’s how they show their love for him. Trust me, he knows. He wouldn’t stand for it if he wasn’t happy. He does the same thing to them, haven’t you noticed?” I was doing my best to pretend everything was normal, like my heart and my mind weren’t constantly going a thousand miles a minute since this afternoon. It wasn’t that I was scared of Chris, it was just that I had no choice but to see him differently now. I never expected him to trust me immediately, I knew it would grow over time. What I wasn’t expecting was the contents of the story. It wasn’t his fault his brother had come along to something he wasn’t supposed to, but he blamed himself anyway. I wasn’t sure if that made him admirable or not. 

“Changbin has tells when something or someone goes too far for him. He’ll shut down almost instantly or be just the opposite of how he normally is.” 

“Kinda like you.” My head snapped up at him, surprise written all over my face, I was sure. Innie had never read me like that. I narrowed my eyes on him. 

“Whatever do you mean, Young One?” He smiled. 

“You’ve been off since this morning. Like something’s bothering you.” I sighed at him. So young, but he was observant. Liked knowing the small details of everything and everyone around him. “What are you hiding? What happened today?” His face held not a trace of insincerity, his eyes focused on me and willing me to tell him the truth. I almost did. 

“Nothing, Innie. Don’t worry, whatever it is will work itself out in the near future. I’m sure of it.”

“Well, if you won’t tell me, then I can at least help you take your mind off of it.” He placed his hand on my shoulder and let me lead the way behind Changbin, who had taken off to the first hole. 

“Whoever gets through first, tell Hyunjin how many hits you had and he’ll write it down. Whoever loses buys dinner. Ultimate winner picks where we eat!” 

Felix went first, not doing too well. 

“It’s because there’s a hill there!” He pouted the three steps over to the next hole while he watched everyone else.

Chris laughed at him along with the others before turning to me to try and catch my eye. He’d been trying since we piled in the van. I wasn’t purposely ignoring him, per say. I just needed more time. He leaned forward and back, trying to move around Han without drawing too much attention to himself. He frowned, and from the corner of my eye, I saw his shoulders go up then down, letting out a sigh. His frustrations weren’t for nothing, I knew I was avoiding him and so did he. I just didn’t know for how long. Once I was sure his back was turned, I chanced a look. His shoulders sagged more than they had since we left. He looked defeated. 

“Ah, so it is him.” Jeongin and his nosy ass… 

“Don’t tell anyone. Please. It’s just very complicated right now and I just need to sort it out on my own.” He shrugged and widened his eyes to look more innocent. 

“I wouldn’t even know what to say. I don’t know what’s going on.” He threw up his hands and followed Felix’s turn. Innie had an untapped affinity for mini golf, it seemed. He got it on the first try, to everyone’s shock and admiration, even his own. 

I went next, although it took me a couple tries, I got it in eventually. 

“Not bad! You did better than me.” Felix said, watching the others before he moved on to the next hole. 

“I think that’s how this whole course is going to go for me.” And I was right. 

Twelve holes later, my name was at the bottom of the list of winners, Han following close behind. ‘I’m no good with sports with balls!’ he insisted again and again. From the looks of the beginning of our adventure, I thought Jeongin would win the entire thing and I would be saved from any extreme expenses. But alas, Seungmin surprised us all. 

“Let’s go to the seafood place we saw down that way.” He pointed down south towards town and we all followed one by one, leaving the van behind since the weather was nice and it was a short walk. Chris decided he’d had enough of my avoidance and finagled his way to my side. 

“Everything okay?” He kept his eyes straight, walking just behind the others in front of me, letting his voice carry on the wind. 

“Not excited about the hundreds of dollars I’m about to spend but I guess.”

“Have you been avoiding me on purpose or by accident?” Ignoring my attempt at a joke, his tone gave away more than he would admit, but I heard the slight embarrassment for even asking. Like he didn’t want to appear insecure for asking a simple question he may already know the answer to. 

“Can we not talk about this here? In front of everyone?”

“Then later tonight? Please?” There was that voice again, that pleading he would never admit to. I had to make up my mind by tonight then, whether to keep things going as they were or to end them now and for good. It seemed like too soon. “I’m not trying to push you, you’re just making me nervous.”

“How about tomorrow night? Before we leave the next day.” It was the best solution I could give him at this moment, while I was still trying to figure myself out. 

“I won’t get an answer tonight anyways, will I.” More of a statement than a question. I shook my head. 

“I don’t have one right now.” Han must have said something funny because the boys ahead of us cracked up and started playfully shoving the boy. They were completely oblivious to the conversation happening behind them and the weight it carried. Minho was smiling at Han and trying not to look at us from the way his body was angled to the side but his eyes were on his friends and the sidewalk ahead of him. 

Chris sighed and kept walking, picking up his pace to leave me behind. I watched them all, all eight of them, together for the rest of the walk. They were a good looking group. They fit with each other really well. Where one lacked, others were there to pick it up. The strengths they played on were just that; strengths. Individually, they were good, but together, they were even better. 

We walked into the restaurant and were greeted by a hostess that couldn’t have been more than seventeen, but her smile made her look older. It was warm and inviting and perfect for her job. 

“How many?” She asked us. Changbin, who was stuck in front of the group, rose to his tiptoes and counted to make sure he was right. 

“Nine.” He replied and the girl counted her menus and led us to a table in the back. The place was semicrowded, just enough to have a stable crowd for this time of day, but not so much as to be too busy to do everything needed. Minho once told me that this meant the place was good, no matter who was cooking.

Once we were all dropped off at our table, the girl started placing menus in front of the chairs to return to her station at the front. Everyone sat in whatever seat they liked while Minho and Chris stared at the last few open seats; one beside me and one diagonally in front of me. When I realized what they were looking at, I quickly sat down and picked up my menu, eager for something else to focus on so I wouldn’t feel pressured to help them with this decision. Chris took the seat beside me while Minho took the other across the table. They both glared at each other for a second before giving a quick nod and picking up their menus.

Felix was seated on my other side and Hyunjin was on his. They were looking at the menu together and whispering to each other. Chris sat himself down carefully beside me, like I might explode if he sat too fast. 

“I seem to have found myself beside you yet again. Funny how we keep seeming to be thrown together like this.” He flipped open his menu. “Like a pattern almost.” He turned the pages without glancing at me, scanning through them top to bottom. I took a deep breath and continued to do the same, wondering why the universe was always playing such jokes on me. 

***

That night the boys decided to initiate a tournament of sorts downstairs in the basement. I opted for the silence of the crow’s nest on top of the house. Staring at the stars again, like so many other nights of years prior, I was looking for clarity. Being alone while being in a house full of people was a strange, yet not uncommon feeling for me. When there was fighting in the house of my childhood, I needed to find an escape elsewhere and the stars were as good a place as any. 

I hated this feeling that was coursing through my veins right now. This feeling of uneasiness was disturbing to my bones. Even when I wasn’t sure where I was going in life, there was always a backup plan in place. Even when it wasn’t solid, I knew I could come up with one if I needed to. But this didn’t feel like that. This felt like I was lined up at the plate, ready to hit a home run only to find out the pitcher wasn’t even there. 

Was Chris’ past something I could look past? Did it even matter? He seemed really torn up about it. I would be too in his shoes. But was that enough to look past how he got here in the first place? The drugs, the trauma, everyone he was involved with, it just seemed like too much. But he felt like a changed man, even if I never knew the old one. It felt as though he wanted to be different, wanted to be better than the boy he left behind. I wondered what sparked that desire for change. I prayed it wasn’t me. I wasn’t sure why.

I never wanted to change him, just to… The truth was I didn’t know. At first, I just wanted him off my back but that was before he became my responsibility. Now he wanted to become more, but before he could do that he needed to stop dealing with those people for his own safety, to stop him from getting hurt and to protect everyone else we had come to care about now. That was before I cared about him as I do now. And before I knew what was behind it all. 

Minho was another situation. He said to give him time. I didn’t want to lose him, but if what he said was true, that I would have felt something for him the way he wanted to, I would have felt it by now. But I didn’t know it was true. I couldn’t tell the difference between what I felt for him now and what I felt before, with the exception of the pang of guilt every time I thought about him. If what I felt now was friendship, then was it true that it was all I was capable of for him? I had never been overwhelmed with the need to kiss him or anything of the sort, but knowing what I know now, would that change? Did it matter if it did? Would it matter to him?

Minho: Where did you go? Felix is asking.

Me: You’re a terrible liar, even over text.

Minho: That’s beside the point. Answer the question.

Me: On the roof. 

“I should’ve known you would find your way up here.” 

“You know I love a roof.” His steps were loud on the wooden staircase, creaking beneath his boot. He found me bundled up in my blanket that I took from my room, feet tucked under me while crouched in the corner. I was sure I looked a mess with my hair tied on top of my head and makeup barely off. 

“That I do.” He sat across from me and mirrored my position sans blanket and looked up at the sky. “How bad was the damage?”

“Nothing a raise won’t fix.” We both smiled. We had always had this easy repertoire between us. I hoped nothing would change that. “I didn’t really get the chance to tell you earlier, but I thought about what you said. I’ve been thinking about it all day. And I don’t want to hurt you further, but I know as much as I wish you weren’t, I wanted to tell you that you’re right. The feelings I have for you and the ones I feel for Chris are different from each other. I don’t mean to drive the stake in deeper, but I just want you to hear it from me first. Minho, I care about you more than I do myself. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I hope you know that.” He nodded, watching my face as I spoke. It was killing him, little by little. But he needed to hear it. “I know you said to give you some time and I will. I just hope your opinions of me don’t change. I love you like family and I always will. You mean too much to me to let you go without a fight.” That made the shoulders slump fully, even though his face was growing into a sad smirk. 

“You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. I am your boss.” There was that joke to save me from crying. He could always tell, even when I myself couldn’t. “Unless you want to look for a new job…” He was looking up at the sky and making a face like he was actually thinking about it. I took off my slipper and chucked it at him, hitting his knee that was folded into his chest. He looked at the slipper and blinked, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened. Then he grabbed his leg and started fake-screaming out in pain, falling down to lay on the wood. I rolled my eyes.

“Lee Minho, the other one is coming for you if you don’t stop!” I took it off to show him and his screams dissolved into laughter. That maniacal laughter that he was known for that made anyone stop and give him a look before continuing on their way. I laughed with him until it faded away from our lungs and into the night breeze. He sat up and sighed as he fell back on the railing and scanned me up and down. “What?” I asked softly.

“Chris is just lucky, that’s all.” I blushed and glanced down at my feet. “Hey.” He nudged them, grunting as he reached with his own. “I wasn’t trying to get sympathy.” He stopped. “Well, maybe a little.” He said under his breath. 

I picked up my slipper again.

*

By the time I made my way down to the basement, Chris and Jeongin were the only ones left. Everyone else had gone to bed, or so I was told. They were in a ferocious game of air hockey when I got to the bottom step and I stopped to watch them play a little. Chris seemed like he was better than he was letting on, but Jeongin wasn’t going down without a fight. The score was tied on the digital monitor 6-6. The next point won, and as soon as I realized this fact, Jeongin screamed in satisfaction and glee. 

“YES! Ultimate Champion right here! That’s right!” He did a little dance in a circle, hsaking what little ass he had that made Chris burst into laughter, defeat far from his mind. They heard my laughter coming from behind them and whirled around to see me trying and failing to keep my laughter from being caught. 

“Not so fast there, Innie. You still have one more person to beat.” I sauntered over to the table and pressed reset. Chris seemed happy I was standing near him. Until I hip-checked him and moved him out of the way. “Can’t have you getting in the way.” He looked at the younger boy, who was staring at his paddle like it had grown legs. “Jeongin!” He looked up through his lashes like a kid who’d been caught. “Get the puck, baby boy.” His eyes went wider and his cheeks were red. He grabbed the puck and tossed it onto the table while I grabbed my own paddle. Jeongin was aggressive after he got over the nickname I gave him. Once the blush returned to his neck, his tongue had poked out between his teeth in concentration. He tried, but he was no match.

7-3

Chris was applauding both of our efforts once we were finished. He stood up from his seat on the couch and slowly clapped as he made his way over to me again. 

“I had no idea you were hiding such a talent. But…” He glanced at Jeongin for a second. “I’d like to take a stab at it if I can.” He turned his puppy dog eyes on me, directing the question to me. I swallowed and nodded.

“You can try, but I won’t hold back because it’s you.”

“Oh, my lady, I expect no less.” I raised my eyebrow at him, not expecting the formality. Jeongin cleared his throat.

“I’m going to mourn my title that I had for a total of thirty seconds in my room where people will comfort me.”

“Yeah, Hyunjin might cuddle with you if you ask nicely.” I called after him as he stuck his tongue out at me on his way up. He flashed a quick thumbs up when Chris’ back was turned and I swatted him away. He took off running. 

When I went back to the table, Chris had his hand on his paddle, ready to go. 

“Scared, Sparkles?” I recognized the familiar movie dialogue and smirked to myself. 

“You wish.” He smiled so wide his eyes crinkled into slits. I could barely see the brown I’d become so fond of. While we played, I mulled over my earlier train of thought. The bottom line was: I didn’t know that person. I only knew the one in front of me, getting his assed whooped at air hockey. Whatever mistakes he was running from, he’d removed himself from a place that could’ve gotten himself into somewhere much worse. He left his family behind, everything he had known and came here to make himself a new life at Minho’s offer. And if he could pull himself out of that place, then I could forgive actions that had no bearing on me. As for the family he had left behind, that could be changed. I knew he needed to check in on them, just to hear from them. I was sure they were dying to hear from him if he left with no word. I’d ask him about that later. 

He was keeping up with me point for point. I was right; he was holding back from Jeongin. But I couldn’t figure out why. After I scored my fifth goal, I asked him.

“Because he reminds me of my little brother. It’s actually a little creepy.” It wasn’t a sad memory he was reliving, but one that made him pause to enjoy living through it again. A mournful smile crossed his features before he shook his head and grabbed his paddle again. 

It was nice that he had someone that sparked something he had lost too soon. Anyone who looked in his direction would notice he was carrying a weight on his shoulders that was going to crush him if he didn’t lift it soon. I wondered if I could be the one to help him. 

Two goals later, we were still tied. The next goal would win and after he caught up to me for the sixth time, I saw something spark in his eyes.

“Why don’t we make it interesting?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you bored until now?” I left a lilt to my voice and tilted my head, trying my best to mock him into lowering his defenses. 

“No, I just thought it might be fun.” I squinted. 

“I’ll hear you out, but I don’t agree to anything yet.” He chuckled.

“If you win, I will cook the best meal you’ve ever had. Whatever you want, no matter how complicated, no matter how long it’ll take.” He paused for what I only assumed could be dramatic effect. “But if I win, you kiss me right here, right now.”

I raised my brow in confusion. “That doesn’t seem like a fair trade. Why do I get a fancy meal and you get a kiss?”

“To get you to take the deal.” He shrugged innocently. “You have more to gain than to lose. What’s better than that?” I pondered over it. What did I really have to lose here?

“Alright, Puck, you’re on.” I grabbed my paddle with a sudden vigorous grip, I was sure it would break beneath it. Chris lay the hockey puck down and swiped at it so hard it went straight at the wall and bounced so quickly, it landed

in my goal.

Just like that, it was over. In one swipe, our tight match was done with a winner that was not me. I stood still, not being able to move from shock at what just happened while my brain was playing catch-up. I looked down to confirm what I already knew and blinked as the puck stared back at me in the pocket to be retrieved. 

Chris was smiling at me with that cocky smile he had before we had started to play nice. But this time, at least there was no malice behind it, just easy cockiness he had for some unknown reason. The swagger was back. It had been missing since this morning and I hated to admit it, but I missed it. It was an essential piece of him that had grown dull until now. 

“I guess that means I win.” He said under his breath, but loud enough I could still hear him. 

“You planned this.” I leveled him, letting my mind wander with what plan he could have possibly concocted during the day. Was it all a ruse to get closer? Or just some act of the universe for the second time today. Someone is trying to tell me something, I just know it. 

Chris drew closer, dragging his hand across the edge of the table on his way over and not denying a thing. He was walking slowly, like he was waiting for me to say something that would indicate I didn’t want to. He was almost nervous with how tentatively he was creeping along the table. He was watching me to see what I would do, each step drawing closer and closer and he stopped just short of me. We hadn’t been this close like this since the first and only time we had kissed. That fact had popped into my brain as I felt my throat start to close like it does when I know something is coming. I tried to swallow and it came out as more like a gulp. Chris watched my throat go up and down and returned to look me in my eyes. 

I got the feeling he was still waiting for me to say something, to object. And I knew if I did, he would stop and back away and I would regret not doing it. The pang of the truth of that statement hit me and I bit my lip. My heart was beating loudly against my chest, it was a wonder he couldn’t hear it too. He stepped even closer, eyes moving down to my lips. I felt pinned to the ground. I couldn't move if I wanted to. He lifted a hand and lighty gripped my chin to tilt my head slightly up to his. Our eyes met, shortly followed by his lips on mine.

It was like being struck by lightning. Twice, since this was only our second kiss. But this one was intentional. It was full of purpose, yet gentle enough that I could feel the raw emotions he had been holding on to the entire day. A place in his heart he held onto to show just me. He was showing me what it might be like, our relationship. Our first kiss had been rushed, flooded with so many emotions it was hard to choose which one to act on. But this…

Chris moved his hand from chin down to my neck to hold me there while we each drank our fill from the moment. He slowly started tilting his head to deepen our soft and sweet kiss while his hands moved again down my arms to bring them to wrap around his own neck. Once they reached their destination, my own hands had minds of their own. They curled into his hair, feeling his curls threading through them. They were as soft as they were that night. I could see myself running through them when the moon took over the sky. 

Our lips had started to dance when I felt his hands move down to my hips again, the fire leaving a trail on their way down. They started to inch lower and lower, breaking me from my own trance. I broke our lips apart to whisper against his mouth and shook my head.

“Mm mm. Not tonight.” I let my hands slide down his shirt down to his stomach, then drop back to my side. I had to stop it here before I gave in to what I knew would be a mistake here. Not now, not in this place or in this climate between us. That was a conversation we still had to have, but tonight was not the night for it. Chris seemed to understand and brought his hands back.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel pressured.” I shook my head, more aggressively this time to add emphasis to my next words.

“You didn’t, I promise. And trust me, that day will most likely come. But in a house full of our friends? Maybe not.” Chris nodded with a shy grin.

“Right. I forgot they were here for a second.” He looked back up to me and gave me one last grin. “Well, then I guess this is goodnight.” I nodded, feeling the slight tension of what had just occurred rise. I bit my lip again. His eyes drew downwards to it. It was his turn to swallow hard.

“Goodnight, Chris.”

“Goodnight, Sparkles.” 

It was hard not to dream of him.

**

The next morning began with being awoken by Felix leaping into my bed with absolutely no warning. Besides the mild heart attack and the string of expletives that tumbled out of my mouth, I was mainly left with wondering what he was doing. 

“Felix, what the fuck?!”He evaded the question as he continued to laugh at my outburst and rolled off of me. His cackles bounced off my bedroom walls and I slapped his shoulder as hard as I could manage. His cries of laughter turned to those of pain as he held that spot. 

“Why did you hit me so hard?!”

“Because you scared the shit out of me! Why did you do that?!” He was rubbing his shoulder now. “You act more and more like the little brother I don’t have every single day.”

“You definitely do have little brothers, you have like seven.” I rolled my eyes and shoved him out of my bed. 

“What did you even wake me up for?”

“I just wanted to see if there was someone… extra in your bed this morning. I heard he went to bed with a big ass smile on his face last night and I thought he might sneak up here again.” I peeked at him through the corner of my eye as I stood up and walked over to my suitcase to find something to wear for the day’s activities. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

‘Mhmm.” Felix huffed and plastered the most arrogant smirk on his lips. “Seungmin said he wanted everyone downstairs for breakfast. Something about ‘family time,’ I don’t know. But he’s cooking and I was sent to wake everyone up. Would you like to join me?”

“Like we don’t spend almost every waking moment together? Yeah, sure. Let me put some actual clothes on first.” He nodded and exited, rushing down the hall to jump on someone else. I heard a similar scream to mine, only in Jeongin’s voice this time, and knew exactly where he went.

I threw on my shorts and a plain t-shirt and stepped outside my door to see Felix whooshing past me with Hyunjin in tow, his hair a mess and his own t-shirt ruffled. 

“Felix Lee, I’m going to kill you!” Felix’s laughter followed him down the staircase. 

“It’s not my fault you’re so hard to wake up!” His flurry of blue hair disappeared downstairs, running towards the safety of whoever was downstairs. Hyunjin swung around the corner of the wall, his feet stomping down the stairs. 

I slowly made my way behind them, listening for the others that might be up here but hearing nothing, I continued on my way down. Reaching the second floor, I see most of the boys crowded around the kitchen island and drinking coffee. Chris spotted me and smiled brightly, his cup still having steam coming out of it. I sauntered over to him and placed my arm on his shoulder. 

“Morning.” He whispered to me. I smiled down at him and reached across him for his cup. He moved out of the way for me to have a better path and I took a sip while maintaining eye contact. His eyes flickered between mine and the cup I was drinking from, smirking at me. 

“Aren’t we missing someone?” I said to the group.

“Changbin said if anyone woke him up today, they would ‘find themselves missing a limb.’ I would rather not know what he meant by that.” Seungmin responded and brought his cup to his mouth. 

“Hm.” I thought about it for a moment and nudged Chris. “Should we go test his threat?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He threw me a mischievous look and we both scurried off down the staircase to find our missing friend. 

He was not pleased. 

“YAAAHHHHH!!!!” Chris threw himself on top of Changbin, just like how Felix had done to me, and Changbin roared. He sat up swinging, almost knocking Chris straight in the eye. I was a mess on the floor, drowning in my own laughter and unable to breathe. “What was that for?! I could’ve knocked you out!” Chris’ laughter was a melody that sang to my very bones. I was still chuckling to myself, but I had resolved to watch Chris laugh to the side where he had fallen trying to dodge Chngbin’s swing. Watching his face dissolve into pure joy was like watching a flower bloom in Spring; worth the work and the wait. 

With another yell of exasperation, Changbin threw off his blanket and began to chase us both out of the room, through the gaming area, and back up the stairs. Chris and I were screaming with laughter the whole way up until we collapsed on a couch upstairs in a fit of giggles. Changbin had given up, saying ‘you’re lucky I don’t do cardio’ and took the cup of coffee Minho was handing to him. Minho was shaking his head at the two of us with a small smile, and I felt a pang on my heartstrings. I hadn’t forgotten what I had said last night, but it seemed he took it very well and was on the way to accomplishing his goal. Seeing him watch me and Chris didn’t extract that feeling of guilt that I thought would rise to the surface. No, instead he appeared as some father figure watching his children pull a prank, enjoying the show. 

When the laughter died down between the two of us, we both looked at each other, still breathing heavily. There was that moment between us, when you know you shouldn’t but you really really want to. I looked down to his lips, trying to pretend that I hadn’t been dreaming about them since I fell asleep. I was staring, I knew it, but I couldn’t help but feel the ghost of them again, just above me, aching to touch them…

“Who wants to go shopping in town? You know, get some beach stuff and take a group trip down to the water?” Felix, ever the savior. A bunch of them grumbled agreements. I joined in, still watching Chris watching me. 

“Lixie, I think that’s a great idea.” 

“Me too.” Chris echoed me. 

“You guys go ahead and do your shopping, I’m just going to head straight to the sand and pick out the best spot.” 

“I’ll go with you, Seungmin.” Minho piped up from the sink, washing everyone’s cups. 

“Well, I’m going shopping. And so are you Jeongin.” Hyunjin gave a look to the youngest, who widened his eyes and threw up his hands. 

“Well, I’m going with Minho and Seungmin.” Han proclaimed. “I need to work on my tan. I’m so pale right now, I look like a ghost. Hey! Maybe we could go see a haunted house tonight! That would be fun!” Everyone looked at him in surprise, shocked that he would be the one to suggest such a thing. “What?! I just think it would be funny to see everyone scared shitless.”

“I don’t get scared.” Minho said with a brave enough face, I almost believed him.

“Oh please.” I breathed a sigh. “Tell that to your favorite pair of shorts from high school!”

“Hey! You said you would never bring that up again!” He shouted over the kitchen island, fighting a smile. I wasn’t fighting mine and shrugged. 

“What? What happened?” Han eagerly looked my way. Minho leveled a look at me. 

“Don't. You. Dare.” My lips caved into my mouth, fighting the urge. I was almost going to do it until Hyunin called from the doorway. 

“Van leaves in five minutes! If you’re not in it, you’re being left behind!”

**

Hyunjin pulled into a huge shop with shirts with the name of the town in big bold letters on mannequins in the windows. The inside was just as big as the outside with shirts, bottoms, shoes, spare swimsuits, and pool toys scattered everywhere for purchase. We all drifted apart, each going to the sections that sparked our interest. I floated over to the souvenirs shelf that was ladened with shot glasses, car magnets, and keychains. I wandered over to the tower with all of the keychains with every kind of phrase I could think of and got an idea. I sifted through each of them, finding ones that fit each member of my family. Some sort of keychain that had the name of this town on it in the different designs on it that fit with everyone’s personalities, except for one. 

I had watched a movie recently that I was stealing this idea from. And when I found the keychain for Chris that I was looking for, I snatched it up. When I had everything I wanted from this section, I peeked my head up to see where my friends were. Jeongin was easiest to spot in the pool toys section, so I wandered over to see what he was looking at. He had found the box of pool noodles and was picking out which one he wanted to take with him. 

“I like the pink but I think Changbin might steal it once I bring it with us.”

“Why don’t we get one for everyone? And then just start a pool noodle fight?” His eyes lit up and he smiled wide. 

“Yes! I’ll buy them all one!” I chuckled and walked away, watching him try and put nine total pool noodles in his arms and start for the registers up in the front.

I found Chris near the t-shirts. He was shuffling through the black ones and I tried my best to sneak up on him, but he caught me before I could get too close. 

“Do I wear too much black?” It was directed at me, and the answer flew out of my mouth before I could put too much thought behind it. 

“Absolutely.” He frowned and shifted to the brighter colors on the rack behind him. “I think the light blue would look good.” He stopped to look at it closer, and picked it up off the rack to hold it up to his torso. He looked up to me, asking my opinion. “Good enough to steal.” He chuckled.

“Why don’t you get one too and we can match.” His ears turned bright red, followed quickly by his cheeks. “Or not. That sounds pretty lame, doesn’t it.” 

“No, actually. But I’m still stealing yours.” I grabbed one in my size and gave him a quick smirk as I followed Jeongin up to the register

Back in the van, Chris found himself in the back seat with me, giving Felix and Hyunjin the front seats and Jeongin had the middle all to himself. Sifting through our bags before we left to ensure we had everything, Hyunjin was off back to the house to get changed and join the others down by the beach. 

Chris had nudged his way into the seat directly beside me and placed his hand on the seat next to my thigh. 

“So, is today going better than yesterday?” He asked the window facing away from me. Too casually. I didn’t answer. I just took his pinky and wrapped it around my own, and smiled at him. I was noticing I was doing that a lot more now. 

*

Beach day with the boys was ending with movie night with the boys. They piled on top of each other, blankets everywhere and pillows on the floor made a very comfortable place to lay down. It was a nice final night for us all. It was intermittent with moments where I felt like we truly were a family, so close knit that it was hard to imagine my life without seeing them every day. 

We were all spread out, myself, Felix, Hyunjin, Han, and Seungmin on the floor with Minho, Chris, Changbin, and Jeongin on the couch behind us. I was sitting between Jeongin’s legs on the floor in front of him while everyone else settled for their own spaces on blankets. 

Once the movie ended, half the boys were snoring in their spots and heads were lolled out the side. I looked around and saw that most of them had passed out and decided that the night was best ended in my own room. Chris caught my eye as he had drawn the same conclusion. We locked eyes from across the room and he tilted his head in the direction of the stairs. I nodded. 

I followed him down to his own room, his keychain in my pocket that I had just bought earlier weighing in my pocket. Each step had me giddier than the last. I was more sure of myself since the last time I had descended down these stairs, more confident in my next moves. His back was moving through his sleep shirt, the movements making me want to jump on it piggyback style. 

We entered his room, dimly lit by a single lamp on the opposite side of the room. His room was smaller than mine, set with a simple bed and dresser about kids’ height and the closet doors pulled shut. I sat on the bed, my hands in the pockets of my pajama shorts and making sure the chain was still there. 

Chris shut the door behind him and turned to see me sitting on the bed. He looked nervous and started fidgeting with my fingers until he sat on the floor directly in front of me. 

“Why are you sitting on the floor?”

“I don’t know.” He laughed at himself. “I’m scared of making any sudden movements because I’m scared you’ll leave.” 

“And what if I told you I didn’t want to leave? What if I said that I wanted to spend the night with you down here in this tiny child’s bed?” His mouth fell open to speak but he said nothing. Instead he just smiled. “I got something for you today. While we were out shopping.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. But for you to get it, I need something from you first.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about gifts with caveats.” He looked at me skeptically, not moving from his place on the floor.

“Haha, very funny. Wasn’t there something you wanted to ask me on this trip? Something important?” He sat there, his brows furrowed for a minute. Then it dawned on him. 

“Are you saying you have an answer?”

“The answer to that question and the question I’m searching for can both be found with this.” I pulled the chain out of my pocket and let it dangle so he could read the word ‘Yes’ written on a seascape background. He watched it and squinted so he could read it. Then his eyes grew wide.

“Really?” He asked quietly, like he couldn’t believe it. I didn’t answer, just looked into his beautiful eyes and smiled. He stared at me for a moment, features frozen in a mix of elation, fear, and something else. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

“If you don’t, I’m leaving.” 

He did. 

All night long.

*

The drive back home was as quick as the drive there. We all piled in the same cars we drove up in, Chris and I sneaking each other stupid grins that I was sure the others had to have picked up on. We all decided to meet back at the bar so that everyone could leave at the same time in their own vehicles. Chris and I promised that we would tell Minho together after we had our first date, at which we would be discussing far more things in greater detail. But first, I just wanted to reset myself in my own room back home. 

I pulled my car into the parking lot that I was so familiar with, it was like pulling into my own driveway. Until Chris and I spotted, exactly at the same time, what lay waiting for us upon our return. 

Minho was already standing outside his car while the others stood just behind him, watching and staring. I couldn’t see his face or theirs. Their parked cars were behind them, still running, like they had barely put them into park before they rushed to see what had happened.

There was glass everywhere. I could spot the broken seats and tables from out here, the sun giving enough light to see it all. I threw the car in park and ran to get a closer look for myself, Chris hot on my tail. We both were stepping on glass as we went inside. 

It reeked of alcohol. Like the damage done was fresh. It was like someone had taken a giant hammer to everything within reach. The walls were torn up, pieces of glass broken were everywhere, and left up for everyone to see, were these words written in spray paint behind the bar.

COUNT YOUR DAYS

[couldntbedamned]

Goodbye Grey Sky, Hello Blue - 13

Summary: In an alternate universe where trains and zeppelins are still common forms of travel and the internet and cell phones exist, nineteen year old Peter Parker has few options left after he’s swindled out of his inheritance. Unable to pay for college, let alone keep the house left to him by his deceased aunt, he’s running out of time before he’s out on the streets. Desperate, Peter signs his life over to the Bureau of Civic Spousal Selections to take his chances as the selected husband of a complete stranger. After all, he only has to make it through a year and then he can choose to annul.

Dr. Stephen Strange has little interest in marriage, preferring to focus on his career. When his career is threatened by what a nosy board of directors considers a “lack of personal fulfillment and settling down,” he opts to select a spouse through the BCSS and chooses Peter Parker. The young man’s profile he’d briefly skimmed suggests intelligence and compatibility. It’s not ideal, but if after a year it’s not working out, he can always annul the marriage and send Peter on his way.

It’s a marriage neither truly wants, with sharp learning curves for both. It’s either going to be forever or it’s going to go down in flames.

Warnings/AO3 Tags: 18+ MINORS DNI, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s/Modern Fusion, Doctor Stephen Strange, Jewish Peter Parker, Peter Parker is of Legal Age, Marriage of Convenience, Marriage Contracts, Government Sanctioned Marriages, Domestic Discipline, Dubiously Consensual Spanking, Spanking, Aftercare, Mildly Dubious Consent, Dubious Morals, Dubious Ethics, Asshole Stephen Strange, Smartass Peter Parker

Notes: Please remember to read the tags/warnings listed and read/avoid as best for you. YOU are responsible for the content you chose to consume on the internet.

<<<>>>

Chapter 13

<<<>>>

“You’re actually serious about that!” Peter exclaimed incredulously over breakfast the next morning.

“I am,” Stephen said simply, drinking his coffee as though completely unbothered.

“You’re seriously going to discipline me for what? For not spilling every little facet of my identity to you? For deciding to protect myself from someone who obviously doesn’t care about me?”

Stephens eyes narrowed then. “You’re going to want to watch your tone, Peter. And the reason is because you haven’t been following one of the rules I laid out for you that first night.”

“Which was what, exactly?” Peter asked, still unhappy.

“If there is anything I can do or provide to assist you in taking care of you, you are to inform me immediately,” Stephen answered. “You haven’t done that. If you needed accommodations in the kitchen, you should have asked. If you needed time away to go to whatever place it is you’d go to for whatever religious practice you have, you should have asked. I would say yes, Peter. You're entitled to a life outside of the home.” He sighed. “There’s no doubt in my mind you’ve done your best to follow whatever these requirements are that you and our two guests last night follow. But you should have asked me to help you in that, because there hasn’t been any need to make it as difficult as it’s been for you.”

Peter didn’t know what to say to that. He settled on a question. “Since when do you care?”

“Whether I wanted to get married or not, you’re still my spouse, Peter. When I say that you’re mine, that is a commitment I take very seriously. It’s my duty to provide for and take care of you, but I can’t do that if I don’t know what to look for.”

Duty, not affection, Peter thought.

“So what happens now?” Peter asked.

Stephen finished his coffee before answering. “Now, I leave for work and today, I'd like for you to write down what additional accommodations you may need in here or for the rest of the house. You’d mentioned to Dr. Grimm that the meat market I have an account with doesn’t have a good selection of what you need, so I’ll ask him if he knows a better place to patronize. We’ll discuss it all when I get home from work.”

“You told me you didn’t care,” Peter said quietly.

“What?”

“That first day, after we were married and having dinner. You said didn’t care what I wanted,” Peter said. “So, I figured it was easiest to just not bother.”

Stephen was quiet for a long time. “I’m very sorry for that. It was an unkind thing to say.” He stood. “I have to go now. Have a good day and don’t forget that list.”

Peter nodded. “I’ll work on that after I do the yard work today.”

Stephen stiffened and a tiny, petty part of Peter wanted to smirk in satisfaction. Stephen hated when he did yard work. Mostly because the neighborhood ladies loved it. Too bad.

“Have a good day.”

His morning was open, so Stephen warned Billy to keep everyone else away unless there was a medical emergency and locked himself in his office. From his bag he drew the navy-blue folder embossed with a shiny silver BCSS emblem. Opening it up, he finally began to read the profile for Parker, Peter Benjamin.

The man he’d married had been born on August tenth in Queens Fall, New Amsterdam to Richard and Mary (Fitzpatrick) Parker. His parents had worked as a data analyst and researcher, respectively, for the Central Security Bureau. When Peter was only five years old, Richard and Mary had died when the Atlantic Amsterdam bridge collapsed, along with the other hundred or so motorists on the bridge that day.

He’d been put into the custody of Richard’s brother Ben and his wife, May Park née Reilly who lived in Midtown. There he’d attended the Midtown Academy for the Sciences, a school that ran from kindergarten through twelfth grade. He’d been active in several student clubs, including robotics.

Stark would adore this guy, Stephen thought as he read through the listing of the numerous awards Peter had won from science fairs, including a write-up of Peter’s selection as a featured writer for the Van Dyne School of Science journal. He’d have to find Peter’s paper and read it. He wasn’t sure how exactly spider webbing could revolutionize wound care, but as an alumnus of Columbia, Stephen knew that anyone chosen to write for Van Dyne had to be legitimately brilliant.

Moving on through the profile, Stephen learned that Peter had attended Congregation Mount Sinai and appeared to have been fairly regular, if not terribly involved. He wrote and spoke fluent Hebrew. Next to the paragraphs on Peter’s religious background, someone - presumably one of the BCSS agents - wrote Binyamin. Stephen didn’t know what that meant.

The next bit had his stomach dripping out from under him. When Peter was only thirteen, Ben Parker had been shot and killed by an intruder right in front of him. He’d continued to live with May Parker until her death from ovarian cancer a few weeks after his graduation and a mere two months before his nineteenth birthday.

There was nothing about what brought him to the BCSS other than the usual boilerplate waffle about “new beginnings and civic duty” added in by the BCSS that he’d seen verbatim in the other profiles they’d foisted on him before finally handing over Peter’s.

From the profile, Peter was every bit as brilliant and just… good as he’d thought. He was a brat, a smartass, yes. But just so good.

He wanted to yell in frustration. This was exactly why he hadn’t read the damned thing, even after living with Peter all this time.

Peter deserved better than a sham of a marriage with a man like him.

Stephen had been called cold, aloof, and uncomfortable with affection all of his life. He was at his best when he was standing over a patient, scalpel in hand. He was biting in his humor and didn’t suffer fools. Any attempts at relationships inevitably failed once the man or woman realized how miserable life with him would be. (And really, why bother with a man who hadn’t even been able to save his own sister?)

What was the point in getting to know Peter, in making the effort and show him how much he actually cared or how desperately lonely he really was, when all it would lead to was a more painful separation when Peter inevitably annulled the marriage once their year was up? Why even try to persuade someone as wonderful as Peter to stay with someone as flawed as he was?

Stephen knew pain, but his capacity for taking pain wasn’t infinite, no matter what some whispered about him.

He looked up at the knock on his door and went to unlock and open it.

“Stephen? It’s Ben. I was wondering if you’d like to join me for lunch.”

Stephen eyed his Kang watch. It was noon and though he felt as if he had rocks in his stomach, he found himself saying yes. Ben Grimm was probably the best person to talk to right now.

“I would like that,” he said.

They walked to a little deli a couple of blocks away from the hospital. The woman behind the counter called out cheerfully to Ben, who greeted her back. They ordered and once they received their food, found a table.

Ben eyed him over the bowl of soup after he'd said a quiet prayer. Matzah ball soup, he’d called it when ordering. “You look like you’ve had a rough morning.”

Stephen snorted. “There’s that tact that’s so beloved of orthopedic surgeons.”

Ben grinned widely. “As if we all don’t prefer our patients unconscious on a table.” He ate some soup and then asked, “what’s troubling you?”

Stephen sighed, setting down his sandwich. “I didn’t know about Peter,” he said. “I had no idea he was Jewish, or that he’d had to go to all that trouble with organizing the kitchen just so he could eat.”

“Okay. Why wasn’t it mentioned in the profile the Bureau gave you?”

“It was, I just never read it. Not until this morning.” He looked at Ben, feeling more helpless than he’d felt in years. Seeing nothing but patience from the closet thing he had to a friend at Sanctum General, he told him about their rough start, how he’d actually accused Peter of cheating after seeing a single pair of gloves, only to be wrong and the tentative steps they’d made to improve their relationship. He confided how proud he was of Peter for orchestrating such a wonderful evening even as he was hurt that Peter hadn’t asked him for help in accommodating him. (Certain things, like the cock cage and spanking, he obviously left out. Common as they were, they just weren’t discussed, even among friends.)

“I’ve messed up, and I don’t know if I can fix it. Life is just so much better with him and he really thinks I don’t care about him at all.”

“Why did you get married, Stephen?” Ben asked finally.

He blinked. That wasn’t the question he’d been expecting. “Because Mordo, Richards, and the rest of the damned lot of them keep insisting I’m unfulfilled and likely to burn out.” He scowled. “Because I’m the kind of person built for marriage, right? I’m self-aware enough to know exactly how insufferable I am, you know. Anyways, I figured I’d visit the BCSS, select a spouse, and play at house for a year and hope that it would get them off of my back. Then the year would come to an end, whoever I married would naturally annul and continue on their merry way, free from me.”

“Why did you marry Peter if you didn’t know anything about him?”

“He was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Stephen whispered, remembering the day he’d looked into the recreation room at the Bureau and saw Peter sitting in a chair, knees to his chest and brown curls framing his face as he studied the chess board intently. “Good just seemed to radiate off of him, and I’m weak enough that I decided to take on the pain that would come from choosing him, just to be close to that good and beauty, limited though the time will be.”

“Have you told him what you’ve told me?” Ben asked.

“Of course I haven’t,” Stephen said. “How would I even start? You’ve met him, Ben! He deserves better than this marriage. He should be in college, working towards changing the world!” He’d read the educational part of Peter’s profile… Peter was brilliant and somehow, his life had gone so very wrong. Stephen was, he suddenly realized, Peter’s Plan B. Ouch.

“You’re a putz, Stephen,” Ben said, with a chuckle. “But you’re not irredeemable.”

Ben gave his advice and Stephen listened. The man had been happily married for ten years - clearly, he knew what he was about.

“How do I accommodate him with the whole religion thing?” Stephen asked, as they walked back to the hospital. “I have to admit his engineering of the kitchen was inspired but there has to be an easier way.” He hadn't been raised in a particularly religious household and to him, god was science.

“Another refrigeration cabinet if you can swing it. He’s got it well in hand, actually, from what I saw. You might encourage him to visit Fleishman’s in Baxterville. I also have a few items I can bring in tomorrow for you to give him.” He explained something called a mezuzah that went on doorposts and offered to come over and help Peter with the blessing.

“Thank you,” Stephen said, meaning it down to his core.

Stephen and Ben were half-way to Stephen’s office when Dr. Mordo joined them. “Ah! Stephen! Ben! How good to see you!” Not far behind Mordo were Ms. Rambeau and Drs. Xavier and Richards. Ben, the coward, excused himself to make his rounds.

The remaining company grated, but, Stephen figured, he deserved it.

Peter worked as quickly as he could mowing and then checking to see how the flower beds were doing. He didn’t mind yard work, but he also didn’t want to ‘put on a show’ for the neighborhood ladies again, either. He supposed he could just wear old jeans and stick to a t-shirt, despite the heat. Did those women really have nothing better to do with their time than watch him weed?

“Peter! Hi!”

Peter looked up from the flower bed to see Ava and her wife, Clea, who was every bit as beautiful.

“Hi!”

“How was the party last night?” Ava asked.

“It went really well,” Peter said. “I was a nervous wreck the entire time, but it went well.”

“I’m glad,” Clea said. “I know Stephen hates entertaining, so I’m sure he was relieved to have you around.”

“It was a lot fancier than anything I’d ever done or been to, but it was kind of fun,” Peter admitted. “I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal to people like…” he trailed off, not wanting to offend Clea, who moved in the same circles as Stephen and his colleagues.

“Stuffy rich people like us?” Clea asked with a teasing smile. “It’s an annoyance, for sure. But it’s the expectation and unfortunately, we’re judged on it. Job offers, promotions, and facility funding can all be influenced by a dinner party. And for someone like Stephen, who just wants to save people, it’s hell on earth.” She shook her head, still smiling fondly. “His talent makes him a target.”

Peter frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He’s nationally known for his skill in the OR and ability to pioneer new techniques. But the higher you climb, the harder people want you to fall. They had to find some kind of weak spot in his armor and up until he married you, that weak spot was that he wasn’t a conventional host or interested in playing the political game. He’ll appear a safer bet in their eyes now, which means job security, maybe a promotion, and that will allow him to continue the work he loves so much.”

“It’s that serious?” Peter asked. How the hell could being unmarried be a liability?

“For people set in their ways, yes,” Clea said. “I had to fight to get my job here because I wasn’t married. Once I found Ava,” she smiled at her wife. “All of a sudden I had a lot more grace than I’d been afforded.”

“And you enjoy messing with some of the hoity-toity type in the pharmacy,” Ava said.

“I have to make sure they can hear me clearly when I’m describing the instructions for use for their prescriptions,” Clea said innocently, fooling neither Ava nor Peter.

“Whether you realize it or not, Peter,” Ava said. “You've just helped secure Stephen’s future at Sanctum General, and each time you host a gathering, you’ll strengthen that. You have more power than you realize.”

Clea beamed at her, interlaced their fingers and brought them to her lips.

“You know exactly what kind of power you have.”

Ava giggled and Peter found himself wishing he could have something like that. If not with Stephen, then maybe someday, with someone.

Back in his office, Stephen settled in to review patient charts. Once he’d finished, he turned his mind back to Peter before reviewing messages. He sat up straight when he saw the message from a Carter-Stark, S.

Call when you get a chance. I have some information. Sharon.

Stephen locked his door and then called his friend’s wife, the woman he’d operated on following a brutal attack by her selected spouse two years prior. Her then-husband had signed on to the BCSS following the end of his service in the Army. His psychological evaluations should have flagged in the system, prevented him from qualifying, but the doctor overseeing his case had fudged the records and his broken mind had led to him seeing enemy combatants everywhere - including his selecting spouse.

Sharon’s hands had been figuratively tied; abuse between selecting and selected spouses was illegal, carefully watched for, and prosecuted heavily, particularly because it was also a government contract. Her choices to defend herself were extremely limited. She’d pushed for counseling, but the doctor again had disregarded the signs and insisted Sharon just needed to try harder to be a better wife to her selected spouse, who was obviously just having a rough patch and needed her understanding. A former agent for the Central Security Bureau, Sharon had the cards stacked against her and only when her neighbor, a Sergeant Barnes saw her bloodied body on the ground and stopped a bloody-fisted Captain Rogers from delivering another vicious kick was she brought to the hospital’s emergency room. Then the whole story had come out.

The marriage was annulled by the BCSS and Captain Rogers institutionalized in a psychiatric facility. The psychologist, Dr. Margaret “Peggy” Carter, was sanctioned by the state board of physicians. Then, Sharon had been informed that because the year contract had not been fulfilled, she’d either have to pay a fine or select another spouse.

Enter Tony Stark, CEO of Stark Company, and long-time friend of Stephen’s. He’d been in town personally overseeing the remodel of Stephen’s kitchen with his latest line of Stark’s Kitchen Living. He’d visited Stephen at the hospital and met Sharon. He’d pestered Stephen for details about the pretty blonde, only to be shut out because Stephen didn’t discuss patients. So, he’d done some sleuthing - Tony had always been a persistent little shit - and uncovered the situation himself. He’d paid off the fee Sharon would owe and proposed to her himself.

It was an odd pairing and at first Stephen had been unsure of the match, given how protective he felt of Sharon (he’d operated on her brain) and how wild he knew Tony could be. But the two of them had fallen in love and lived happily together in Malibu. Sharon adored her rascal of a husband and Tony was besotted with his “super-hot dangerous ex-spy wife who could totally kill me with a paperclip if she wanted to.”

“Good morning,” he greeted.

“Stephen, thanks for calling. I’m still tracking our conman down, but I have updates.”

Stephen listened and took notes as Sharon detailed her progress. She was a dangerously thorough woman and had managed to track down three accomplices of Beck. Her findings would be enough to land each of the three in prison for decades, but she’d hold off until she found their true quarry. “He’s cheated millions so far out of victims like Peter.”

“How can I help?” he asked.

“At this point, there’s not much right now other than asking Peter for some details. Every little bit counts.”

Well, shit. Peter didn’t trust him and probably wouldn’t want to say anything. Not that Stephen could blame him.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“How’s married life?” she asked.

“It’s definitely an adjustment,” he said diplomatically. My husband is a smart and beautiful bratty smartass who deserves better and I'm me.

“It goes easier if you actually communicate,” she offered. “Hang on, Tony’s motioning frantically for for the phone. Have fun talking to him!”

Stephen snorted as Tony greeted him. “How’s my favorite newlywed?”

“I’m just dandy.” A thought struck him. “And I’m glad I have you on the phone. I need to have another refrigeration cabinet installed.”

“Did the one you have quit working?” Tony asked, all business. “We haven’t had any reports of failures.”

“No, I need an additional cabinet. Apparently, my husband is Jewish, and another cabinet will help him follow the dietary laws he observes. He’s made do with the one we have, but it will be easier with another.”

“I can work with that,” Tony said. “I’m actually planning on visiting New Amsterdam next month. Can you wait until then? I’d like to oversee the install like last time, as well as meet your mister.”

“Sure. You’ll like him, Tony,” Stephen said sincerely. “He’s brilliant.”

“I do love it when people are brilliant,” Tony agreed. “Share-bear and I will swing by, we’ll do dinner, and we’ll create the first trial run of Stark’s Kosher Kitchen Living set. Which I just came up with. It'll be great. Now, I have to jet before Ms. Potts hunts me down. Talk to you later!”

Stephen felt marginally better as he left work. He stopped at the local florist, asking for something that conveyed “Sorry I’m such a putz” and walked out with bouquet of blue hyacinths, white orchids, a few Lilies of the Valley, and a single white tulip.

Peter deserved an apology and an explanation. Stephen, come hell or high water, was going to try and be better.

Even if Stephen was doomed to only a year, he could at least try to make it a good one for Peter.

[starlit-bawka]

20 Questions For Fanfic Writers!

No way I got tagged by the really awesome @h4mm132l1c3, and ill tag a couple of other people too probably

1: How many works do you have on Ao3?

Currently I've got 59 things on AO3!! There are a couple more on my long-defunct wattpad though, and I've got a bunch of December whump I need to catch up on too so there will be more

2: What's your total Ao3 word count?

72,774!! Wow!!! And like...90% of that is oneshots! Go me!

3: What fandoms do you write for?

Currently writing for DSMP and QSMP the most atm :O I also write for the PJO fandom, Homestuck, and DR on occasion, too. I get very tempted to write for Stardew Valley and Scott Pilgrim, and I have been. More than tempted to write CareBears stuff too. I'm in deep chat

4: Top five fics by kudos?

(Un)Lifetime Achievement Award, Take Your Secret Son to Work Day, Las Nevadas and the Frozen Fox, Alone I Began, and Of Lost Gods!

5: Do you respond to comments? Why/Why not?

For the most part yeah! I don't get too too much interaction and I just get!! So excited when I get comments! I love seeing what people say and I love to respond! But sometimes I don't, often cause I don't know what to say lol

6: What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

hmmm,,,good question! Probably Why Do I Cry? or maybe Famous Last Words? Gone are the Joys I Knew? I don't really know! I write a lot of sort of mopey sad fics ig LMAO

7: What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

mmmmmmm,,,,not sure for this, either! My Fundy Fluff Week stuff is all supposed to be sorta fluffy which is probably happy

8: Do you get hate on fics?

Not hate, per say, but comments on the accuracy of my characters, which kinda stabbed my ego a bit lol. It was a nice comment! But the way it was worded was so ouchie!

9: Do you write smut?

I've. Been tempted. As of right now I haven't, though!

10: Do you write crossovers?

Another one of me being tempted!! I haven't yet but I LOOOOVE to read them and so I'd love to write one sometime. (We aren't counting my old VLD Steven Universe au.)

11: Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so! Fingers crossed it hasn't happened lol I doubt it would

12: Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope! But if someone were to want to, I would say go ahead! Just send it to me so I can see :D sounds so cool!

13: Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Very recently was my first time doing a proper co-write/collab, which I did with my lovely friend Seven! I would love to do more they're so fun (and probably one of the only ways I'll easily end up writing a multichap KEKW)

14: What's your all-time favorite ship?

ouuuuu ive got a lot of pairings I really really cherish. Jercy my beloved, uhhh Valgrace is so silly, I like to consider myself one of The Kamuegi writers ever, and Pumpkinduo kind of holds an insanely special place in my heart

15: What's the WIP you hope to finish but doubt you ever will?

(Un)Lifetime Achievement Award as sad as it sounds. I love it so much and I'm so insanely proud of it and I love the story but there's soooo much planned and the person I was planning it with hasn't spoken to me in a while. I have hope that I'll finish it someday! Or at least get another two chapters out!

16: What are your writing strengths?

Uhhhhhhh,,,,I don't. actually know! I do a lot of flowery sentences ig? and I think I'm pretty good at angst and similar things

17: What are your writing weaknesses?

Making (and completing) multichap fics, getting ideas to write, finding the motivation to write, and I am definitely bad at planning things out in advance

18: Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I've done it pretty sparingly in the past, because I want to incorporate other languages and loooove language, but don't know any of them very well aside from English. But I try to do a lot of research before I add something in, and am 100% open and insistent that someone correct me if I messed up, or if there's another way to go about saying what I'm trying to say, or just to tell me more!

19: First fandom you wrote for?

Never published because I was a kid and it was. So Bad but !!! It was actually for the Minecraft Roleplay series Mary and Dad's Minecraft Adventure (MADMA) back around 2011-2013. I've been in mcrp hell for. a LONG time jesus christ

20: Favorite fic you've ever written?

ohhhh good question. Fullbury Records is very special to me and I'm ALWAYS thinking of what to add to that series, and (Un)Lifetime Achievement Award ofc is also very special to me. I think Heart to Heart is going places once I get back to writing the next chapter, too But I'm also veeeerrry proud of Famous Last Words, and it's very special to me as a projection piece LMAO

Tag time!!

@dyke420-69 @sparrowsong07 and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it lolol be sure to tag me so I can see :D

[wheredafandomat]

Dr. Laufeyson

Chapter 2 ~ Morning stragglers

Warnings etc: Loki x female reader au where Lokis a therapist, therapy, swearing, mentions of past trauma later in the fic including abuse both physically and sexually - not explicit detail, 18+. PLEASE tell me if I ever leave anything out x

Previous Chapter

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Finally finished with all his clients for the day, Loki took the time to properly look through your file again after actually meeting you. You were nothing like he thought you’d be which was why he often scolded himself for making pre judgements about clients based on the information provided. He read through the notes from the answers to questionnaires you had completed before being paired with him for his specific skill set. Unlike other therapists who worked alongside him in the clinic, Loki specialised in cognitive behavioural therapy, mostly dealing with addicts of various different things ranging from substance abuse to sex. In his years of practicing, he had never come across someone like you. He knew it was wrong to make assumptions but he thought it was strange that someone who looked so well ‘put together’ would be spending thousands for therapy with him.

Before leaving the building, he spoke with Natasha who booked your appointment for next week. Making his way to his car, he thought back to your interaction. He felt a slight twinge of embarrassment wash over him for a second when he realised how easy it was for him to speak to you. Despite having gone to university and even studying a masters, Loki hadn’t ever met anyone he could playfully debate with like he did with you. No one had ever had a differing opinion to his and if they did, they kept it hidden often just agreeing with him. You were a breath of fresh air.

He got into his car before driving home, singing along to the the Beatles songs that were playing.

Pulling up on his driveway, Loki stopped the engine before opening the car door and exiting, reaching back in to grab his bag. Entering his house that was definitely too big for just him, he already felt himself growing tired. He showered before changing into some loose pyjamas and heading towards the large kitchen. He looked over the clean surfaces, seeing his own reflection looking back at him. He sighed at his solemn expression. Opening the fridge, he took out an apple and decided to eat that for dinner as opposed to cooking or ordering food. The task just seemed too strenuous for one person.

Walking back to his room, apple in hand, he looked down at the picture on the counter top of him and Thor as well as some of their friends. He missed it, the company.

Entering the en-suite, he brushed his teeth before taking his clothes off and going into bed, choosing to browse through his phone before he went to sleep. Remembering his earlier conversation with you, Loki smiled to himself as he went onto YouTube and watched a dickens vs Tolstoy debate.

“Perhaps you were right y/n.” He spoke aloud with a grin.

As the week went on, you found yourself counting the days until your next appointment with Dr Laufeyson. You convinced yourself to go out with Bucky one night, regretting it when you woke up with a hangover and a random guy who definitely wasn’t Bucky in your bed. You sighed to yourself, you didn’t even really remember the night. You hoped that the intoxicated you at least enjoyed herself. Getting up, you wrapped yourself in your duvet before using your foot to kick the man awake which only seemed to edge him further into a deep sleep as the sound of his snores rose. Taking a deep breath to try and fight your frustration, you thought you’d get yourself a glass of water before trying to wake him again. Dropping the duvet, you wrapped your dressing gown around yourself before stepping out of your bedroom.

Walking through the livingroom, you sighted Bucky crashed out on the sofa in only his boxers. You made your way towards him, laying down on the sofa next to him.

“Morning princess.” He spoke, eyes still closed as he quickly placed a kiss on your hairline.

“Morning Bucky. The guy from last nights still in my bed and he won’t wake up.” You told him, wrapping an arm around him as you snuggled into his side.

“Want me to get him out?” He asked, extending an arm for you to snuggle further into him.

“Not right now.” You said, closing your eyes as you revelled in the feeling of him holding you. Your lip began to tremble as you thought over all the things that had led you to this moment, seeking such comfort from something as simple as an arm around you. Leaning further into him, you placed a kiss on Bucky’s chest as you draped a leg across him. Your lips continued to roam his body as your hand found his slight bulge. Opening his eyes, Bucky turned to face you, taking your leg off of him in the process.

“Come here.” He said, pulling you towards him before you nuzzled into the crook of his neck. One of his hands soothingly rubbed circles over your back as he rested his chin on the hop of your head. These small moments of intimacy were intoxicating. You could have gotten lost in them. You found yourself wishing it was real, not just Bucky pitying you. That was the power of one night stands, they didn’t know your history or any information they could use against you, they just knew that they wanted to fuck you. Something about that was empowering. “Did you guys talk about him during therapy?” Bucky asked, probably knowing what you were thinking.

“No, we just introduced ourselves. I’m sure he’ll come up during the next session.” You answered, falling further into Bucky’s embrace. He didn’t answer, he just held you tighter.

After a while, Bucky got rid of the straggler for you before he himself left whilst you nursed your hangover hoping you’d be right as rain by tomorrow for your appointment with Dr Laufeyson. You knew that you’d end up having to talk about your past, of course, it was therapy, but it didn’t make it easier to open up. You never really did. Bucky knew most of what happened because he was your best friend and you confided in him but you hadn’t really gone into detail with any of your previous therapists. Something told you that you were safe with Dr Laufeyson, that you could finally open up. The thought scared you.

Bucky, your trusty fwb 😂

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Fun & Games [Chapter Two]

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: After getting up close and personal on a case, neither Y/N nor Spencer can get enough of one another.

Part Summary: It's a paperwork day and Y/N and Spencer can't help but let their longing gazes continue throughout the day.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: light smut. This series and 18+ series MINORS DNI

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***

CHAPTER TWO: JUST FRIENDS

The very next day at work, Y/N was surprised to find herself there before the majority of people. The only ones in work were Hotch and Rossi and both were already in their respective offices already tackling their paperwork for the day. Looking at the stack of work on her desk, Y/N sighed and headed to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee. As she stood there in silence, she suddenly regretted not getting one before work started. However, in her defence, she was distracted. 

Ever since the incident between her and Spencer happened while they were undercover at the restaurant the day previous, Y/N hadn’t been able to get her mind off it. The feeling of his body pressed tightly against hers and his hands roaming her body. When their lips connected for the first time and Spencer flipped their positions so her back was against the wall. All of these thoughts gave her butterflies in her stomach. Butterflies that Y/N didn’t want.

It was one way to think of a co-worker in a romantic setting but a friend - let alone a best friend. Y/N didn’t want to be having these thoughts, especially not when her desk was located diagonally across from hers. Their kiss was nothing but professional in a professional setting. 

As soon as Y/N finished making her coffee and headed back to her desk, the bullpen had already begun to fill up. Derek was sitting at his desk as was Emily and JJ. Y/N gave them all a smile as a greeting before sitting down at her own desk. Without meaning to, Y/N’s gaze shifted over to Spencer’s desk and found it vacant; there was no sign of the resident genius. With a small shrug of her shoulders, Y/N got to the pile of work she had to get through that day.

Not even five minutes into her work, Y/N was already interrupted by Spencer tumbling into the bullpen. Of course, there was a small look of shock on everyone’s faces at Spencer’s late arrival as he is mostly always early to work but that wasn’t all they were shocked at. His hair was a mess and stuck up in several different places. The first few buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned and his tie was undone - not a typical Spencer Reid look.

“Sorry I was late, my alarm didn’t go off.” Spencer mumbled as he tried his best to flatten his hair and sort out his appearance as he made his way to his desk. 

Y/N couldn’t help but let her eyes wander over him. As soon as she realised what she was doing, she gently shook her head of any thoughts before returning to the pile of work on her desk. Despite her only thinking about Spencer moments ago, Y/N easily slipped back into the routine of her work without much hassle. All she wanted to do was get through her work as quickly as possible and head home to yet again her empty apartment and watch television all night.

For at least forty minutes, Y/N had been in a perfect routine and nothing had distracted her. If she were lucky she would be able to go home early. It wasn’t until she reached to the side to take a sip of her coffee that her routine had been interrupted. Her mug was empty, disrupting the flow of her work. Sighing, Y/N leaned back in her chair, she wanted to get a new cup of coffee but she didn’t want to stand up and walk over to the kitchen area to make one. It wasn’t lazy, it just wasn’t efficient. 

As her eyes scanned around the bullpen, everyone was engrossed in their work - just like Y/N has been until she was interrupted by her empty mug. Her eyes scanned over Derek’s desk, then Emily’s, then JJ’s and then finally Spencer’s. However Spencer wasn’t hunched over doing his work like everyone else, he was staring directly at her. Their eyes made contact and Y/N couldn’t help but feel everything else melt away. 

Ever since Y/N had known Spencer, she always knew that he had nice eyes but it wasn’t until the previous night that she realised how beautiful they really were. There was a warmth to his eyes that just drew you in. Now whenever Y/N looks into Spencer’s eyes, she can just think of the desperation within them after their kiss and that image was seared into Y/N’s brain. 

The two only broke eye contact once someone walked past Y/N’s desk, breaking their eye line. As the person passed Spencer was staging down at his desk again. Letting out a small sigh, Y/N went back to her work abandoning her mug of nothingness. 

The flow of Y/N’s work was ruined completely. She couldn’t get back into the routine she was originally in before. Mainly because she was getting thirsty but was too stubborn to go and get herself a drink and secondly because of the fact that she and Spencer would occasionally make eye contact from across the bullpen. Whenever they turned away the corners of their lips turned up in a slight smile. They thought no one noticed these small barely noticeable interactions but someone did. 

The next time Y/N was interrupted from her work it was Penelope marching over to her desk. She had this look on her face that Y/N had never seen before. It sort of looked like...betrayal?

“Hey Penny,” Y/N greeted her blonde friend, “What’s up?”

“What’s up? I’ll tell you what’s up!” Penelope said, before leaning down to Y/N to whisper harshly in her ear, “You and boy genius kissed!”

Y/N’s eyes widened, even though Penelope had the decency to whisper it into her ear, the whisper was still pretty loud to hear. She was lucky that Spencer was still engrossed in his work. 

“Okay, Penelope, let’s just keep our voices down-” Y/N said.

“So it is true?” Penelope said, “I should’ve been the first to know. That’s what I’m here for, to help you and Reid finally figure out your feelings toward one another.”

“That’s technically not what you’re here for, you’re the technical analyst,” Y/N states, “And yes we did kiss but it meant nothing, we had to do it to lure the unsub closer, he was losing interest.”

“And you didn’t feel anything after?” Penelope questioned, “Like nothing?”

“I didn’t feel anything at all.” Y/N lied. Of course she felt something after kissing Spencer, she was thinking about it all night and whenever she made eye contact she was brought back to that moment. 

“If you didn’t feel anything why did Derek say that the two of you have been eye-fucking all afternoon?” Penelope questioned.

Y/N raised an eyebrow before looking over Penelope’s shoulder to look directly at Derek Morgan who was just looking back at Y/N with a small smirk on his face. Y/N turned back to face Penelope.

“We were not eye-fucking, it just so happend that he looked up whenever I did and vice versa. It was all coincidence.” Y/N said.

Penelope sighed, not satisfied with her answer, “Y/N, you know I love you but you seriously need to figure out whatever is going on with you and Reid. Ever since you started working here he’s come out of his shell more, he even flirts with you while working.”

“It’s exactly what you and Derek do!” Y/N defend.

“Yes but both Derek and I know that we don’t mean anything by it, with you and Reid, there is always this sexual tension whenever the two of you flirt. It’s so thick you can cut it with a knife.”

“No there isn’t.” Y/N denies.

“You might not be able to see it but everyone else does, even Hotch and Rossi, and it’s driving us all crazy.” Penelope says.

“I highly doubt that this so-called sexual tension between Spence and I is driving everyone crazy, I don’t think Hotch and Rossi even care,” Y/N says, “And it doesn’t exist. Sure we flirt occasionally but that’s all it is. Flirting. And that kiss we had yesterday that’s all it was a kiss, it’s not like it’s ever going to happen again.”

Penelope let out a quiet huff, “Fine, but the longer you keep denying it, the more you’ll begin to realise your feelings.”

“Bye Penelope.” Y/N says, as the blonde begins walking away. 

The moment Y/N turns back to her desk, she sighs. Y/N was extremely glad that Penelope wasn’t a profiler otherwise she would be able to see through all of the lies she just told. Just as she was about to get back to her work, Y/N felt a presence behind her. Thinking it would be Penelope again, she swivelled her chair around and came face to face with the person she had been thinking about all day.

“Spencer!” Y/N exclaimed, “I thought you would be Penelope.”

“It just looked like you needed this.” Spencer says, offering her one of the mugs he was holding in his hands. 

Y/N let a small gasp past her lips, “Where would I be without you?”

“Probably dead in a ditch.” Spencer says, leaning past her to place the mug on the desk.

“I could’ve gotten out of that ditch myself,” Y/N defended, “You’re help wasn’t needed.” Spencer raised one of his eyebrows, “But it was greatly appreciated.” Y/N added before realising how close their faces were. 

Silently she cursed Spencer for placing the mug down on the desk himself instead of just giving it to her. If this were any other day, Y/N would easily just give a small flirtatious comet before the two of them went along with the rest of their day. But it was today, and both of them knew that a comment like that wasn’t going to cut it. 

“There was something I wanted to talk about with you.” Spencer said quietly as he remained in his position with what looked like no desire to move.

“Oh yeah? What do you want to talk to me about Dr. Reid?” Y/N muttered under her breath.

There was a small pause before Spencer answered and in that small pause, his gaze trailed down from Y/N’s eyes to her lips and back up again. Once Y/N realised what he did, she didn’t stop herself from doing the same thing before making eye contact with Spencer again. 

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened between us yesterday.” Spencer stated and Y/N felt her heart drop though she didn’t let it show.

“Okay, well we can talk after work if you want, I just want to quickly get through these files first.” Y/N offered. In reality she only wanted more time to figure out what she was going to say.

“That’s fine,” Spencer said, giving her a smile, “I’ll talk to you later.”

Y/N gave him a smile before going back to her work, quickly getting back into her routine but now that routine had something new added - worrying about what she was going to say to Spencer.

As Spencer sat back down at his desk, he couldn’t hemp but let out a sigh of relief. Even though he seemed calm and collected asking Y/N to talk about their kiss, he was freaking out internally. Giving her one final glance, Spencer began to work through the stack of files on his desk, him too worrying about what he would say to Y/N.

***

Nearly everyone in the bullpen had gone home. They had either finished all of their work for the day or they had taken the remainder of the files to finish at home. The only two that remained in the bullpen were Y/N and Spencer - even Hotch left ages before them.

Of course Spencer had finished his work a while ago, he had only been fiddling with things on his desk or reading a few books to pass the time it took until Y/N finished her work. Spencer had even tried to steal a couple of files but Y/N made him put them back deeming that it was her work to do not his.

It was nearly ten at night and Y/N was finishing off her final bit of work for the day. She knew that Spencer had been done for a while. There were multiple times where she told him that he could go home but he waited there regardless. The closer she got to finishing her file the more nervous she got knowing that her conversation with Spencer would be happening within the next few minutes and she had no idea how to approach the topic. 

Before she could finish the last file she noticed that Spencer lent against her desk with his arms folded.

“I can tell you’re procrastinating.” He stated.

Y/N sighed and closed the file, “That’s because I am.”

She stood up to match Spencer’s height better and so she could talk to him face to face. 

“I’ve been thinking about what I was going to say all day about what happened yesterday. I guess you want to talk about this kiss, correct?” Y/N asked and Spencer nodded. 

“That kiss,” Y/N begins, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. When I went home last night, all I could think about was how good I felt when your lips were on mine and your hands were roaming my body.”

Y/N didn’t know where her sudden burst of confidence came from but she had begun to close the small gap between their bodies so Spencer's was trapped between her and her desk. She snaked her hands up his chest and leant up so her mouth was level with his ear. While her hands were resting on his chest, Spencer’s ghosted over her hips, hesitant to touch her.

“To say that I enjoyed the kiss would be an understatement.” Y/N mutters in his ear. 

Spencer’s hands finally come in contact with Y/N’s hips and he can’t stop himself from giving them a small squeeze making Y/N let out a small gasp. 

“I’m glad you said those words,” Spencer mumbled, lips brushing her ear, “Because I feel exactly the same way.”

Y/N’s lips begin to pepper small kisses across his neck and up his jaw before they hovered just before Spencer’s. They were both panting slightly, getting lost within one another. Both of them knew that they shouldn’t be doing this but neither of them could stop, just being with each other in this way was intoxicating. 

Spencer leaned forward and finally connected their lips. They kissed each other with the same amount of passion as the night previous. Y/N’s hands gently tugged on his hair causing Spencer to occasionally let out small whimpers against her lips. The more they kissed, the more both of them wanted. 

Y/N’s hands trailed down from Spencer’s hair to the top of his shirt as she began to loosen his tie. As she did this, Spencer’s flipped their positions and sat Y/N on top of her desk. 

“You really like flipping the positions don’t you?” Y/N teased.

“Shut up.” Spencer muttered before kissing her again.

His hands fell to her thighs as he slowly began to push her skirt further up her legs. Y/N’s legs parted letting Spencer know that she was okay with it. As he continued to trail his hands up her thighs, Y/N began to unbutton the first few buttons on his shirt, fully exposing Spencer’s neck to her along with a small bit of his chest.

Slowly she began to pepper kisses down his neck, occasionally biting down to get a reaction out of him. As she did this, Y/N’s hands sank lower and lower down Spencer’s chest until they found his belt. Pulling him slightly closer, Y/N could feel the erection that was growing every passing second. She moved her hand over it, purposefully avoiding giving him any sort of relief. Spencer gently grabbed the back of her neck to make her look at him, “Two can play at that game.”

Spencer’s hand’s trailed higher up Y/N’s thighs until her skirt was bunched around her waist. He began to kiss down her neck as his hands firmly held her thighs in place. As his thumb lightly passed her clothed core, Y/N let out a rather loud whimper. 

“Spencer please…”

Spencer chuckled slightly before he slowly moved his thumb to press gently over her clit - enough to give her some sort of stimulation but not enough for Y/N’s liking. Letting out a soft moan she tried to move her hips towards Spencer’s hand but he moved it away before she could get any sort of relief. 

“I hate you.” She muttered.

“No you don’t.” Spencer said before leaning in to capture her lips again.

However, before their lips could connect, they both heard footsteps coming their way causing Spencer to jump apart from her. Not that it would exactly do them any good. His shirt was unbuttoned and his tie was slack and he had a small trail of hickies trailing down his neck - not to mention the bulge in his trousers. Y/N wasn’t any better with her sitting on her desk and her skirt bunched up at her waist, if it weren’t for the thin underwear she would be exposing herself completely. Her hair was a mess and she was very flushed in the face. If anyone walked in it was very clear what the two friends were doing.

The footsteps only seemed to get louder before they went away again making both Y/N and Spencer let out a sigh of relief. Whatever mood that had been created between the two had been entirely ruined. As they looked at each other, both of them let out small chuckles.

“You should probably hide those before tomorrow.” Y/N pointed to Spencer’s neck.

Y/N hopped off her desk while pulling her skirt back down and straightening her clothes out while Spencer buttoned his shirt back up, although he took his tie off completely not seeing the point of putting it back on.

“I should be glad that you don’t have any, otherwise it would look very obvious what happened between us.” Spencer stated.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” Y/N said, “We’re best friends and nothing more.” 

“And I agree.” Spencer said.

The two stared at each other in silence before Y/N spoke up again, “But tomorrow night I have a free apartment so if you want to come over to relieve some of this tension I’ll be there.”

Spencer nodded, “Sounds like a plan.”

“Okay but after that we’re just going to be back to being just friends,” Y/N offered her hand for Spencer to shake, “Deal?”

“Deal.” Spencer said, shaking her hand.

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

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𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜

Chapter 4: hell was the journey but it brought me heaven (final)

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Pairings: bucky barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,943

Summary: blessed with telepathic abilities since birth, you were captured by HYDRA and turned into one of their weapons to kill. after the blip, you were pardoned by the government and you were obliged to check up with dr. raynor everyday which you had no clue would lead you to the one soul you’d been waiting for.

Warnings: SMUT!! (18+) dirty talk, oral (female receiving), fingering, shower sex, happy ending.

A/N: this series is dedicated to the lovely @ohmickeyhenry who commissioned this story and developed the concept. thank you for trusting me with your story. i sincerely hope you like it.

You sat on the front porch as your fingers flipped through the page of the romance novel you had your nose in. It was a beautiful day, the weather wasn’t too hot or too cold, perfect to spend hours escaping into a story outside. Alpine purred on the chair where Bucky would sit if he was here but he wasn’t because he was on an overseas mission with Sam and though you offered to come with him, Tony said that it would be best if you sat this one out. You didn’t take it personally, however, it was hard to be separated from him for nearly a month.

Bucky said he’d be coming home soon and though the mission kept delaying them to come home, Bucky called and texted you every day to let you know that he was alright and how far on completing the mission had they gone. You were glad that Sam and Bucky had each other while you weren’t around to take care of him because you knew that Sam was the only person who could ground him other than you.

You and Bucky had been together for nearly five months now, after your recovery in Wakanda and adjusting to the new life of being superheroes, you both decided that you wanted to settle in a more remote place. All of the Avengers had their own places outside of the compound so you thought, why don’t you get yours? You talked about getting your own place in Brooklyn but eventually, you came to a decision where somewhere in the country would be better for both of your mental beings, while also still residing in the New York area so that you’d be ready in case there are emergency missions.

Since moving to the countryside, you had felt much more at peace and you had learned more about yourself than before. You were in the middle of the process of moving in when Bucky was needed by Tony to take care of an international matter with Sam, so Tony helped call in some people to help you with your stuff.

The place you had with Bucky was lovely, it wasn’t anything big or swanky, it was simply a rural rustic home that blends woods and stones as the foundation. It had a large loft where you placed your bed, and the roof had upper windows which shed lights into the entire room. It was even more stunning at night where you could see the stars and the moon that illuminated the dark space. From the veranda, you could enjoy the beautiful view of greenery and the lake surrounding you. It was heaven, but most importantly, it was your and Bucky’s little heaven.

You’d often feel lonely living in the cabin, so you decided to adopt a cat while Bucky was away. You didn’t tell him because you wanted it to be a surprise. You named her Alpine. You’d always wanted to have a pet and now that you had your own place, you could have one without worrying it would bother anyone.

You talked to Bucky this morning and he estimated that he’d be coming home in two days, which means he’d be home by his birthday. You couldn’t think of a more perfect gift than this adorable, blue-eyed cat. It was as if she got them from her dad whom she had yet to meet. You also wanted to make his birthday and celebrate his coming home more special so you put down the book and went to the grocery store in town that afternoon to shop for the ingredients to bake a cake.

You had learned a lot of new things after you moved here, and baking was quickly becoming your hobby, so you were excited to utilize that new skill to surprise the love of your life. You spent the next day in the kitchen so once Bucky walked through the front door, the cake would be ready to be served. You were giddy thinking about the look on his face and how proud you would feel to make him happy with something you made of your own.

You were lying on your couch with Alpine by your feet, reading the book that you didn’t get to finish yesterday when you heard your phone notifying you a text had been received.

I’m outside, babydoll.

You instantly got up from your couch and put your book on the table. Your first thought this morning was Bucky would back to your arms this afternoon and you were ecstatic. You had missed him terribly and you wanted to curl up in his embrace and never let him go. He was your anchor and you were his rock, you both needed each other to get through the days. How you managed to survive so long without him was beyond you.

You chose a nice outfit, nothing fancy just a simple sundress that you feel your best in, put on some makeup and did your hair. Though you didn’t have a clue on makeup products, let alone apply them all over your face, you did spend a handful of times watching Youtube for guidance. You knew you didn't have to put all that effort to keep Bucky in love with you but you wanted to do something nice for him. For the first time in forever, you were a free woman who was allowed to make her own choices, you were going to revel in exploring them.

You opened the door and there he was, as handsome as the devil, as gentle as an angel. Everything about him captivated you yet, he soothed every nervous system in your body too. He was grinning at you like he had just won a prize and you couldn’t help but throw yourself at him as soon as the door was fully opened. “Bucky!”

He hugged you back, holding you so tightly to his chest and he kissed you as a lover would until you needed air. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he swept the hair that was falling on your face, slightly hiding your beauty.

You smiled at his flattery, “I got a surprise for you…”

“A surprise?” He looked genuinely perplexed. “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s your birthday, silly. And to celebrate you coming home, of course, because I missed you so badly.”

“Sweetheart, you don't need to get me anything, you’re all the blessing I need in my life.”

“And you are mine, but you deserve more. So, close your eyes.” You ordered him like you were an excited 10 years old ready to show off her science project to her parents. He did as he was told and you took his hand and led him to the kitchen where his cake was sitting perfectly. “Don’t open your eyes until I tell you!”

He chuckled, “okay.”

Bucky trusted you wholeheartedly so he didn’t worry he’d walk into a wall or slam his hips to the kitchen counter as he was being led down to where his cake was. “Okay, now open your eyes.” He did so and he saw you standing behind the tiny dining table, near the kitchen chanting Ta-Da! Presenting a chocolate birthday cake, in the shape of a heart in front of you.

You lit up the candles that were in the shape of 106 and you brought the cake closer to him, “happy birthday, my love.”

Bucky was grinning from ear to ear, he couldn’t contain the happiness swelling in his heart. While he was on his bike, driving from the compound to his cabin-like home, all he expected was a warm shower and being tangled between the sheets with you. Since he was turned into The Winter Soldier, he no longer cared about birthdays or his age. Time felt blurry and all that mattered was his purpose in his life which is to make amends to the wrongs he committed during his winter soldier days and the few people that he cared about.

But now you were in his life, you were going to make sure his birthdays are special and that every second you both spent together was precious. “I got another surprise for you…” You walked to the couch to carry Alpine and when Bucky saw her, his eyes lit up.

“You got us a cat?!” You handed her to Bucky gently like a newborn baby and Bucky cradled her to his chest, looking like an affectionate father.

“I did. I felt lonely while you were away so I thought I’d get a pet now that we’ve got our own place and I saw her at the shelter when I went to town and she looked so adorable, I just had to take her home, Buck,” you watched Bucky lovingly stroke the cat’s ear.

“I never had a pet before…”

“I know, and neither had I so I thought, the three of us would make a wonderful family.”

“Thank you, doll. This is… This is the best birthday gift I could ever ask for.”

“You’re welcome, love. By the way, her name’s Alpine.”

Bucky nodded, “suits her.”

“Now, as delicious as that cake looks, I really need to take a shower, would you mind joining me?” Bucky held out his hand for you.

“There’s nothing else I’d rather do,” Bucky took your hand and carried you in bridal style to your bathroom, which had rustic walls like the rest of the house and dark brown sink vanity with a mirror at the centre above.

Bucky put you down and you both began stripping out of your clothes. You helped Bucky with his once yours were on the hanger because you wanted to feel him, really feel him now. Once only his boxer remained, you slid the shower glass door and you pulled him, giggling like teenagers trying to sneak out in the middle of the night as he struggled to take off his boxer with the way you were pulling him.

You turned on the shower, just warm enough to soothe your nerves and help Bucky relax. Bucky cupped your face and you both began making out, the stream of water made it difficult to keep your eyes open but you always got so lost in his kisses that you could never keep your eyes open even if you wanted to. It felt like heaven to feel those lips again after a month of his absence.

Bucky lifted you and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He slammed you to the bathroom glass as he dominated your mouth, his tongue tangled with yours as his vibranium arm leaned against the glass. Bucky trailed kissed to the column of your neck and you threw your head back, giving him easier access. He bit the skin, marking you as his.

The water kept flowing down and you both forgot what you were there for in the first place. “Oh, missed you so fucking much, doll.”

“I missed you too,” you said as you panted.

“Those nude pictures you sent weren’t helping either. Each time I see you naked, it went straight to my cock. It was torture not to have you right away.” Bucky put you down and kissed your body, down to your stomach until he reached the part where you needed him most. Bucky lifted your right leg onto his shoulder and kissed the inside of your thigh as he left a love bite with his teeth there too.

You didn’t mind, you were his as much as he was yours and you loved it when he got a little rough or possessive, though you knew Bucky would never hurt you and if he did, you wouldn’t hesitate in telling him. But you loved to walk around with his marks on you, you wore them proudly.

Bucky dipped his head to your core, tasting your arousal like a famished man. He had been deprived of your taste for a month, he wasn’t going to hold back. He could spend hours in between your legs if you let him and he’d never get tired of it. Bucky licked a stripe of your slit, making you throw your head back again and moan.

He grabbed your arse to keep you standing, with the way he was devouring you, your thighs began to shake, and you would’ve crumbled to the floor if he wasn’t holding you. You tugged his hair, keeping his face close to your cunt. You couldn’t help but grind yourself onto his face and you could feel him smirking.

The way his stubble grazed your delicate skin was tantalizing, you’d tried to close your legs a few times around his head but he always held them back. You could feel your muscles tightening, but before you could burst, Bucky put your leg to the floor and he stood up, kissing you again and you could taste your arousal all over his tongue. It was erotic yet intimate at the same time.

Bucky grabbed your hips and spun you around, you could feel his stiff member nudging you from behind as you both fought for dominance with your tongues. Bucky took a fistful of your hair and lifted your head back, once again trailing open-mouthed kisses to your throat. His fingers made their way down to your clit, rubbing it in circles furiously as if you weren’t soaked enough already from the way his tongue ingurgitated you.

You whimpered at his touch, the way he always knew how to light up every cell in your body with his touch was a wonder. It was as if your body had given itself completely to him and it was going to comply with whatever his touch tells you to do. Like the way you willingly bared your soul to him, you didn’t fight it at all, let the love and passion you had for each other consume you.

“You’re dripping all over my hand, doll.”

“I need you to fuck me now, please.” You were losing your mind with the way he was stimulating you, you needed to have him inside you now.

“Anything for you, baby.”

Bucky used your wetness to lubricate his member, making it easier for him to slide in. You leaned against the glass with your hands against it as he gripped your hip with his flesh hand and your shoulder with his vibranium one. Bucky pushed himself until he was fully sheathed and he groaned, “oh fuck, I ain’t gonna last long. Missed this tight cunt so much.”

Bucky gave you a few seconds to adjust to his size, and once you told him to move, he began with slow paces. You threw your head back and leaned against his shoulder as he kept thrusting in and out of you at a faster speed. Bucky moved his vibranium arm to your hip and wrapped his flesh hand around your jaw, directing it to his face so he could kiss you deeply.

The sounds of your skin slapping were salacious. Bucky felt you clenched around him and the coil in your stomach tightened. His fingers that were gripping your waist once again furiously rubbed your clit, igniting the fire in your muscles. Your cries grew louder as his rhythm began to falter, and the dam in you broke, your squirts streamed down your thighs, clouding your brain with pleasure.

Bucky started to get messy as he chased his own orgasm. He followed you to the place of euphoria, releasing himself deep inside you, panting your walls with hot white gush. Bucky leaned his forehead against the glass as he breathed heavily with his heart thumping against his chest. His weight on your back was comforting so you stayed there for a while until you both began to come down from your highs.

Bucky pulled out of you and his orgasm ran down your thighs, following yours. You turned around to face him and kiss him again. “That was fucking amazing,” Bucky said as he cleaned you up.

“I should be the one doing that, I wasn’t the one who just came home from a one month mission,” you retorted as you watched him going down to scrub your thighs where your juices were sticking on your skin.

“Well, now that I’m here, let me take care of my girl, will ya?”

You only chuckled and eventually, you both helped rinsed each other off. Once the shower was done, Bucky dried you with a towel and carried you to your bed, which he had yet to sleep on since it got here.

Life was a funny thing. Sometimes it dragged you down to hell, making you question if you had ever committed such a heinous crime in your previous life that cost you such misery in your present. But then, slowly but surely, the journey that you had to endure, led you to your fate, for better or for worse.

You couldn’t change where you had been and what you had done, but you could choose how you were going to redeem yourself and how you were going to spend the remaining years of your life now. You didn’t know much about your future as an Avenger. Hell, you were barely an Avenger, to begin with, but eventually, when you were ready, you knew there’d be nothing too big to overcome because you had Bucky by your side to walk through the storm with.

You didn’t have the privilege to believe in mystical things such as lucky stars but you were going to thank whatever was out there for the invisible string that tied you to Bucky.

tags; @ohmickeyhenry @suitofvibraniumarmor @themaddies-obx @themaddies-obx @beminetokeep @bluemoon-icecream @bluemoon-icecream-blog @harprs @thefridgeismybestie @abitofeverythingg @wolfonthemoonwatchestvshows @julimelodi @bookscoffeandotherstuff @tanyaherondale @artisancowbells @ferxaniti @intothesoul @hallecarey1 @buckybarnesplumwhore @thefallenbibliophilequote @andiyholly @emizla @capxwinter @jevans2 @alwaysreadingimagineschick @swtltlmrvlgrl @extremelyblackandwhite

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 20 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Reader lies to Spencer.

A/N: Please read the content warnings for this one if you have basically any triggers, lol. This is a very heavy chapter - it is the penultimate climax of the story. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Angst (NSFW) Content Warning: 🚨 IMPORTANT – READ BEFORE READING🚨 This episode covers a number of very dark topics, and should be approached at a time when you have support systems available. Potential triggering topics include: sexual assault, violations of consent, suicide, self-harm, pregnancy/termination, infertility, domestic dispute, fighting, and underage drinking, sex w/ blanket consent Word Count: 11K

MASTERLIST

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Rossi’s house was every bit as extravagant as I had expected. I had come in honestly hoping to be slightly disappointed so I could mock him for it, but, as always, he had to force his appearance to be as unnecessarily elegant as possible.

That being said, I was a little surprised to find that most everyone gathered in one spot - the kitchen. It was only to be expected, considering it was usually the happiest room in the home. That certainly remained true for Rossi. But they were also all gathered there because that was where the wine was – wine that I was not allowed to drink.

Rossi didn’t have a problem with it… Spencer did. Because of course he did. And while I politely declined when Rossi offered me some, anyway, I found another offer a little more tempting. Which explains why I found myself clutching Derek’s flask and draining half the contents quickly enough to remind him that I was, in fact, in college.

And if anyone were to ask, I would simply tell them that we were hanging out in the hall outside the bathroom to have a very deep and secret heart-to-heart about our shared love for a certain mop headed genius. It would have been the perfect cover to use on pretty much everyone except…

“Ahem.”

The sound of Spencer’s throat clearing behind me was enough to cause me to choke, and I quickly tossed the closed flask back to an already giggling Derek as I shouted, “Fuck!” I didn’t even turn around when his hand snaked around my hip. Instead, I just groaned.

“The narc’s here,” I whispered to Derek, but he knew better than to answer.

“The narc?” Spencer balked, much to his friend’s delight.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Derek offered in consolation, taking a swig out of the flask and earning a very defensive glare from my boyfriend. In fact, Spencer seemed downright pissed, which wasn’t what I had been expecting when I agreed.

Oops. What’s the male equivalent of a cat fight?

“Morgan, didn’t you lecture me about her drinking underage a few months ago?” he snapped, grabbing the flask from a more than willing Derek. Spencer sniffed the contents and immediately recoiled, tossing it back again.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he mumbled, shooting a glance down to see me sort of just making heart eyes at the sight of my boyfriend being a stupid level of jealous that I'd been caught in the hallway with another boy.

“How does that make it better? That makes it patently worse,” he argued. Derek might have responded to it, too, if I hadn’t latched myself onto Spencer’s side.

“You’re so cute when you get all stupid and possessive,” I drawled, burying my face in his shoulder in what I think was supposed to be a playful kiss, but actually just ended up being a muffled laugh.

“That,” Derek chuckled, pointing to me teetering back and forth on my heels at Spencer’s side, “That is my cue to leave.” With one final wink, he whispered, “Don’t be too hard on him, Princess.”

Spencer’s angry sigh and entirely stiff posture should have served as my warning, but it was just funny to me at the time.

“They all think I’m the boss of us,” I giggled. “Me! The boss!”

“You’re drunk.” His tone dropped the second Derek was out of earshot, and on intimidation alone, he managed to back me against the wall.

“So is everyone but you. They won’t even notice,” I mumbled, although the more the hallway started to spin, the less I believed that. I'd never been very good at math or shots, and this was a pretty horrible miscalculation of just how much of my tolerance I’d lost.

“You really couldn’t wait a few more months? Or at least until we got home?”

He was chastising me, and I just wasn’t there to hear it. I probably could have figured it out if I’d tried, but it all sounded like sexy nonsense at the time. Walking my fingers down his chest, I paused at his belly before hooking them in his pants and pulling his hips against mine.

“I’m allowed to drink if my daddy says so,” I purred.

Spencer didn’t find my taunt as charming as I’d hoped, and before I knew it his hand was roughly pressed over my jaw. He tilted my head back to look him in the eyes, and I wondered if he could smell the whiskey on my breath.

“Well, I didn’t,” he growled.

I never said I was a perfect person, or even a smart one. And when I was drinking and Spencer whipped out his Daddy voice, I don’t know what he really expected me to do. But apparently, trying to grab his dick through his pants was the wrong move. He snatched my hand away quickly, slamming it against the wall before he continued his little impromptu lecture.

“I’m not rewarding you for this. We’re going home.”

“That’s not a very scary threat,” I deadpanned, throwing my body weight back against the wall.

That lasted about four seconds before he pulled me back to my feet and leaned forward to whisper in my ear. “Just wait, little girl. Just you wait until I get my fucking hands on you.”

I was going to make a snarky joke, to remind him that his hands were surely and firmly already on me, but I never got the chance. We were both too distracted by the very loud and very high pitched squeal of Penelope as she rounded the corner.

“Ah! I saw nothing!” she shouted, covering her face with her hands and refusing to remove them.

“Yeah, because we aren’t doing anything,” I laughed. But then, being the slightly cruel brat that I was, I stuck my tongue out at Spencer before tacking on a completely unnecessary, “anymore.”

“We weren’t doing anything before either!” he squeaked back. He wasn’t using his Daddy voice anymore. So swiftly, so easily, he’d been knocked from his higher footing.

Penelope took the words to heart, but only enough to slowly lower her fingers and peek between them. With a shaky voice and an awkward laugh, she started to rant. “Oh. It’s fine. I’m cool. We’re all cool. We don’t have to talk about that thing from the first time I met you ever again. Because we said we’d never talk about it again, do you remember that?”

“I do remember that,” I answered with a very sarcastic tone and a nod.

“And I just brought it up again, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” I whispered, “Yes, you did.”

“I’m so sorry. Spencer, Hotch is looking for you,” she rushed, turning to the beet-red boy at my side. “Okay, that’s it. Take your time, because I’m cool and not at all mortified.” She was basically already gone before she'd even finished talking, taking off in the direction she'd come from while downing the drink in her hand.

With a loose, clumsy wave I shouted back, “Bye, Penelope.”

“Mortified is a good word. An accurate word,” Spencer huffed as he wiped a hand over his face. His bashfulness, while cute, was not as exciting as the pre-Penelope behavior.  

Running my hands underneath his blazer and up his back, I pressed my chest against his. “Gosh, Dr. Reid. You need to be more appropriate in such a public setting.”

The words, while meant to get him riled up, did more to frustrate me. My drunken mind was more than happy to revert to the metro, and before I knew it, my daydreams were filled with images of Spencer stuffing me into the tiniest closet he could find and having his way with me.

“Oh, I’m the one lacking manners?” Spencer chuckled as he apparently read my very lewd thoughts. He pried my arms off of him and pulled them back to rest at my sides before pressing a strangely chaste kiss on my forehead. “Go get your stuff. I’m going to go talk to Hotch and I’ll meet you by the door.”

Before he disappeared around the corner, he shot me one last warning glance and ordered, “Do not mingle!”

“Don’t worry, I will!” I yelled back.

Once he was gone, it was my job to figure out how to make my body work again. Luckily, it wasn’t the first time I’d had too much to drink in a room filled with drunk adults. Granted, they usually weren’t all cops, but, whatever.

Turns out, it somehow made it easier. I managed to grab my things off the counter without alerting anyone except Penelope, who quickly turned back around with a blush. She probably figured I was gonna go blow him in the bathroom or something. I’d have been offended if the thought hadn’t literally just crossed my mind. I made it all the way to the door before I heard it. Back through the halls, a few of the group had separated to talk about how much harder it had been to see Hotch and JJ. It was nothing, just a little bug spreading through daycares like wildfire. That wasn’t what upset me, though.

No, the thoughts running through my head were more than just a passing thought of kids sick with a cold. I looked up at the walls of the entryway to Rossi’s home and saw intricate moulding and nothingness. I saw the exquisite, pristine rug underneath my feet, and I thought about how lonely it felt.

I was standing in a house that should have felt happy, filled with friends and family and love. There was no doubt that everyone who was there wanted to be there, and probably had nowhere else they’d rather be. But the tall ceilings and thousands of square feet felt so goddamn empty.

It isn’t the building, I heard a tiny, terrified voice call out from inside my own conscience.

It’s you. You’re empty.

I had to leave. I had to get out of the house. I had to hear the silence so that the nothingness would feel more appropriate and less noticeable. I couldn’t let them see me, because if they saw me, they would know. They would know that I was nothing but a husk of the girl they used to know. Without even thinking, I threw the door open, stumbling forward and almost falling flat on my face as I misjudged the small step down to the patio.

“Fuck!” I muttered, the world rocking around me with a stubborn persistence. If it weren’t for the frankly freezing temperature, I was sure I would have been sick. To make matters worse, there was a person quickly approaching.  

“Hey, are you and Spence leaving already?”

It was JJ. Thank god, it was JJ. Probably the only person who wouldn’t make fun of me for being a mess on Rossi’s steps after only a few shots of whatever Morgan was drinking.

“Oh. Hey, JJ. Yeah. He’s…” I turned to my side, half expecting Spencer to be there to answer for me. But he wasn’t, so I ended up just pointing to the closed door before slurring, “he’s doing a thing.”

She was, per usual, very kind when faced with my buffoonery, and just laughed as she shook her head. “A thing. Sounds like him.”

I honestly thought that would be the end of it. It was a good, easy segue into a farewell. She already knew we were leaving, and she knew Spencer well enough to know that he wouldn’t leave me alone for long.

And I think she almost did leave. She almost walked right past me and into the warmth and comfort of a home filled with family and friends. But she didn’t. She stopped and asked me the one question I was really hoping she wouldn’t.

“Are you alright?”

I didn’t want her to ask because I knew that I wouldn’t be able to lie to her. Even if I could have managed it, she would have seen right through me in a second. Not only would it have been an exercise in futility, but she would also know that I thought it was worth it to try to lie.

So, I was honest… quite possibly too honest.

“No, not really. But it’s a lot and I’m kind of drunk, so…”

The mom eyes appeared so quickly, with JJ’s body turning entirely away from the door and over to me. “Not usually a good combination, but an understandable one,” she softly replied, wrapping her arms around herself to make up for the fact that she was sacrificing her comfort in many different ways to talk to me, instead.  

She was probably just being nice— staying with me until Spencer could come take over the babysitting of the drunk twenty year old, but I wasn’t exactly thinking critically at the time. Which is only part of the reason why I blurted out the only thing on my mind; the thing that had been haunting me for longer than I wanted to admit even to myself, much less another person.

“Has Spencer ever talked to you about kids?”

The air, still freezing, also fell uncomfortably silent.

“Oh…” she mumbled under her breath, clearly unsure of how to handle that particular minefield of a topic. Especially with her best friend’s girlfriend, who also happened to be drunk. I almost told her to forget about it, but then she looked up at me with a powerful resolve. “Yeah, he has. Why?”

I thought about my next words more carefully, although you wouldn’t have been able to tell considering how much I stuttered.

“Do you think… Do you think he’d be happy if… I can’t have them?” I asked, wringing my hands together over my stomach. “Like, not just happy today, but like ten years from now?” I could hear how desperate I sounded, but I needed someone to hear the words playing on loop in my mind. Absolutely frantic and with tears pooling in my eyes, I asked, “Do you think he’d still love me if I can’t give him kids?”

“(Y/n), slow down. It’s okay!” JJ urged, lunging forward to cup my cheeks and gently wipe away any stray tears. “Don’t cry! You’ll ruin your make up and it looks like you spent a lot of time on it.”

I had to laugh because not only was it my exact brand of humor, she said it with such a serious face that I had to wonder if it was genuinely her biggest concern. Of course, I knew it wasn’t. In her usual JJ way, she just knew the easiest way to cheer me up was with a laugh.

“Yeah, there’s like $80 on my face, it’s really not worth it to cry,” I agreed, sniffling softly when she finally pulled away her hands. At least I could blame that part on the cold.

“Exactly. And if you cry, then I’ll cry, and then I’ll also ruin my make up, and we’ll just be $150 down the drain with nothing to show for it,” she joked with a tired roll of her eyes and a shrug.  

Together, we laughed, finding a pocket of warmth in a world that often felt too cold. Behind JJ’s eyes though, I saw an empathy I wasn’t expecting. That small, instinctual part of my brain tugged at my heart, telling me that there was an unspoken bond forming. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t know why. I had a feeling that it was one of those secrets you just didn’t ask about, so I let it go.

“Thanks. It’s a stupid thought anyway,” I sighed, shuffling my feet and knocking my heels against the somehow spotless patio. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, so why stress about it, right?”

But then JJ said something I wasn’t expecting. Something that I actually really, really needed to hear.  

“I don’t know, I think you’re allowed to be worried. It’s normal to feel scared.”

The sentence hit me like a freight train carrying lead and cement. At first, my brain refused to comprehend it at all. I struggled to repeat the idea, not because I was drunk but because it sounded so wrong. I had wanted it to be true so badly, and here she was, telling me it was okay.

Sensing my simultaneous trepidation and revelation, JJ cringed a bit when she said, “But I think it is a good idea to talk to Spence about it instead of me. Because, to be honest, I’ve also had one too many glasses to be helpful.”

That time when I laughed, it was full-hearted and involved every muscle in my body. “God, I love you, Jennifer,” I said through the noise.

She just shook her head, clearly enjoying the drastic mood swing she’d had a great part in. “I love you, too,” she whispered, running her hand over my shoulder and arm to pull me into a small half-hug. And that was how Spencer found us, giggling and sniffling on Rossi’s porch.

“Hey, are you ready to— Oh! Hey JJ,” he stopped, taking a very hesitant step forward in the hope that we wouldn’t both start crying on the spot. Drunk girls had a tendency to do that. “W-What are you guys doing out here?”

She let me go first, shoving her hand, still damp with my tears, into her pockets with a secretive smile. “Girl talk.”

“That usually doesn’t bode well for me,” Spencer answered with an awkward, nervous laugh. He didn’t make a move to grab me yet, probably too scared to step between the two of us. I was too busy giggling at the thought of his mind cycling through all the possible secrets I might have spilled in my uninhibited state.

I was tipsy, but I wasn’t that drunk.

JJ pulled two fingers over her mouth in a cheeky motion as she whispered, “My lips are sealed.”

“An even worse sign,” Spencer winced, turning to finally wrap his arm around me. He must have noticed the chill on my skin, because seconds later he had me practically wrapped in his coat. “I should just cut my losses and get her out of here, huh?”

“Shut up, old man,” I slurred, cuddling closer to his body heat despite my protests. Even in the darkness, I watched the heat bloom in his face at the nickname. By far, the worst part about the situation was the fact that I couldn’t kiss him, because I just knew he would be so warm, and I was really starting to get cold. I suspect that’s why he started to whisk me away, unceremoniously shushing me as JJ cleared her throat and raised her hand in a wave.  

Before we got too far, though, I heard her speak again. “Oh! (Y/n), your questions!”

“What about them?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder and nearly falling to the ground as a result.

JJ looked at me, and then back to Spencer, whose arm was wrapped possessively around me. She smiled a pure, toothy grin that filled her face, causing that weird feeling in my gut to flare up again. She saw something in that moment that I wasn’t sure I’d ever really understand, but her voice started to crack just enough to notice when she called out, “The answer is yes. To all of them.”

 —————————————————

 The ride back to Spencer’s place was uneventful, though I tried very hard to make it interesting. After the fourth time he'd swatted away my hand and threatened to throw me in the back, I gave in to his demand to behave. I blamed my compliance on the alcohol, although it was probably more so a result of total exhaustion.

The respite from socialization was apparently what I needed to be able to function again, because as soon as we pulled into his apartment parking lot, I was awake.

... Awake enough to try and maul him in the hallway. But, in his sober stubbornness, he continued to evade my advances all the way until his front door clicked shut behind us. His hands on my hips had never felt like such a victory before.

“Did you enjoy wreaking havoc all night?” he whispered, slowly leading us towards his room. I couldn’t see where I was going, but I didn’t need to. Even without an eidetic memory, my body cherished this path and the memories it always led to. I trusted him to catch me if I stumbled. Which, I definitely did.

“I’m the cutest devil you’ll ever see,” I slurred.

“At least you admit it,” Spencer laughed. I couldn’t tell if it was at my words or the fact that I was failing terribly at trying to unbutton his shirt. My drunk self was not a skilled multitasker.

Once I felt the bed against the back of my thighs, I hopped on top of the covers before he could even try to help me up. It was muscle memory. We’d been there before.

“I’m feeling more fallen angel tonight,” I sighed, sliding against the comforter until I found his pillow.

Naturally, Spencer saw the way I gravitated to his side. He smiled as he removed his shirt that I’d left mostly intact. “By all means, feel free to stay that way.”

I probably should have taken off my dress, or my shoes, but I didn’t. The world sort of felt like a wave pool on a sunny day, and I was worried that if I paid too much attention to what was going on around me, I'd think about something I really didn’t want to think about.

I couldn’t remember what it was.

But then Spencer’s hands were gliding up and down my calves, and I shuddered at the contact. He took his time removing my shoes before coming up to join me on all fours. I wondered if he could taste the whiskey on my tongue when he kissed me. Did it remind him of the circumstances that had brought us together? Did it remind him of his hangover and sins?

Did he think of monsters when he kissed me?

My hands were tangled in his hair, pulling lightly to try to keep him there. And when he pulled away, I tried to fight him. I tried to follow him, scared that once the kiss was over, I’d start remembering things I probably should have tried to forget.

He must have seen the denial in my eyes, because he hesitated. His hand came up to lightly grab my wrist and lead my hand that had a death grip on his hair down to his face. “Are you too drunk? Should we stop?”

Throwing my head back with a groan, I tried not to hate him for actually caring about me again. “If you stop right now, I’m going to actually scream,” I droned. It got me a laugh, at least.

“That doesn’t comfort me in the slightest.”

Once I opened my eyes, I found myself wishing I hadn’t. It wasn’t that I saw hesitancy or fear in Spencer’s eyes – on the contrary, it was the lack of anything bad at all that bothered me. I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but a sincere, pure adoration that I couldn’t argue with.

I chose to ignore it, instead. I couldn’t remember why it made my stomach hurt.

“Are you going to make me do a sobriety test?” I giggled, letting my hands travel down his shoulders and chest. I wasn’t in as much of a rush as I had been earlier. I wanted to take my time remembering what it felt like to be pinned under him and surrounded by his embrace.

“I’m positive that you’ve practiced those while drunk,” he playfully replied while trying to hide the way goosebumps followed my fingers as they trailed down to more interesting territory.  

“Yeah, I can say the alphabet backwards and everything.”

It was meant as a joke, but Spencer apparently had some doubts. With a scrunched up smile, he laughed back as he asked, “Really?”

The fact that he believed I was capable of something like that might have been flattering if it hadn't been based on his incredibly flawed perception of my propensity to lawbreaking. But since it was based on ideas of immorality rather than intelligence, it just made me mad.

Smacking him lightly on the chest, I both pouted and laughed as I snapped back, “No, of course not, asshole!”

Spencer just grinned, giving a delayed wince at the offensive contact before he sat up again. I didn’t realize why at first, but as he slowly started to coax me into turning around, I remembered that I was, in fact, still fully dressed. I figured it was either his way of saying that I’d won, or just an excuse to take off the dress so I might actually go to sleep. I was fine with either.

“I was drunk the first night we met, if you’ve forgotten,” I mumbled, rolling onto my side of the bed and moving my hair so that he wouldn’t catch any in the zipper.

“I definitely haven’t forgotten that night.”

The nostalgia in his voice was both comforting and painful. We’d always joked about that night, though. It wasn’t an insult at all.

“No? Do you think about it often?” I replied playfully, forcing myself not to think too hard about whether he wished I was still the girl he'd met that day.

Spencer made it easy to forget, with his hand starting to draw the zipper down while he leaned forward to whisper in my ear, “I think about it all the time.” My breath hitched in my throat at the way his voice warped into a rough, raspy tone. “You almost made me believe that you were just some shy, innocent little girl.”

This time when he got me to turn back over, there was nothing gentle about it. His hands were clearly craving the kind of violence they got to use last time. I wanted to feel them again.

“We can make a new memory if you want,” I panted, looking up at him with wanton eyes and my dress loose enough to expose parts of my breasts to him.

“Fuck,” he muttered at the sight below him. He pressed his erection against my hip as he ran a hand over my cheek. “Tell me the rules.”

“I tell you to stop if I need to,” I carefully enunciated.

“Good girl,” he moaned, starting to rock against me. Struggling to pull my dress off himself, he pleaded in a slightly pitiful manner, “Can I…?”

I helped him, desperate to feel his skin against mine. I didn’t even think about what it meant for my dress to be gone. It wasn’t until Spencer’s mouth dropped to my chest so enthusiastically that I realized that he’d failed to stop and kiss my lips first.

With both hands on my breasts, he lavished each pebbled peak with his fingers and tongue. He hadn’t ever mentioned the fact that he’d missed me shirtless, but it was painfully obvious in the way his lips trailed along my body. It was obvious in the rumbling of his moans against my skin and the way his hands roughly kneaded the soft tissue.

I was forced to remember why I hadn’t let him see me topless.

I felt naked. Not because of the exposed skin, but because I couldn’t warp reality with lace or cotton anymore. My marred stomach might not have made a physical barrier, but it still made him feel so far away. It was a paralyzing kind of realization, and I felt myself retreat so quickly that it hurt.

Thankfully, it was Spencer who was kissing me. If it had been anyone else, I think I would have just laid there, terrified and small and alone. But I couldn’t do that with him.

“Spencer?” I quietly called, and he immediately stopped, his eyes meeting mine with all the attention a girl could ever ask for. I smiled, and the sensation almost felt foreign.

“Come kiss me here instead,” I said with a little giggle, tapping my lips to bring him back to where I wanted him. And he came to me so quickly, his mouth crashing onto mine in seconds and his hands tangling in my hair.

I had forgotten so quickly how easy it was to get lost in him. Thanks to the alcohol, my mind wasn’t able to stick with any thought for longer than a few seconds. Mixing that with Spencer’s hands and mouth, I was never going to be able to think in more than a few words at a time. And I shouldn’t have needed to, right? It was just sex. We’d done it many times before, and it had never been a disappointment. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of mind — some instinctual warning that told me I was doing something wrong.

I wanted him, so what could be wrong about that? There was nothing painful or unappreciated in the way he lined himself up at my entrance, and I certainly made that much clear. It was hard to even hear him over the sound of my own moans, and my nails dug into his shoulder as I guided him into me with my hips.

“I love you,” I cried, wrapping my legs around his waist and digging my heels into the back of his thighs.

“I love you so much, little girl,” he whispered against my lips, his forehead resting against mine.

For a moment, it was okay. The feeling subsided long enough for me to enjoy the fact that Spencer, the man I loved, loved me back. I thought about how long it had taken us to get to this point, and how I never wanted to lose it again. I held onto him for dear life, rocking my hips to meet his and bringing his mouth down to mine.

It was okay, until he spoke again.

“You’re such a good girl,” he groaned into my mouth, “even when you’re being bad you just want to be useful.”

Useful.

The word had come back to haunt me several times in the recent weeks. I hadn’t said anything about it because I couldn’t understand why it bothered me so much. There was no reason for me to be upset. He was just saying what I usually liked to hear.

So why did it hurt?

And I realized then, that the reason that experience felt so horrible wasn’t because of me at all. It was because it was Spencer. It was Spencer, the man I loved. There he was, trying to love me and comfort me and hold me and I…

In a rush of emotions and memories and repressed regrets, I was forced to face the fact that I had made a terrible mistake. The kind of mistake that if I didn’t do something about it in that exact, immediate moment, would become a disaster. The kind of disaster that meant he might never want to touch me again. The kind that would make him hate me. The kind that would make him leave and I couldn’t blame him for.

I had made a mistake.

“Wait, wait, Spencer, stop!” I slurred, my hands that had been holding him close seconds earlier shoving him off of me with the little force I was capable of. It didn’t take much, though, considering how fast he jumped back.

Frantic and terrified, he grabbed my face and tried to inspect my eyes that were avoiding him. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t look at him. “No, I just really need to stop,” I muttered, my breath picking up even more as I slid away from him, “Can I just— Can you just give me a minute?”

My hands slid over my chest, trying to hide the shame I felt inside to no avail. Spencer only made it worse in the way he quickly grabbed clothing, covering me in his shirt before he dressed himself. He even took the time to find me pants and help me in them, quietly and carefully. Like a doll.

I was going to be sick.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he croaked brokenly while he curled up at my side, trying to wrap his arms around me before he realized I was shrinking away from his touch. He was so confused. He had no reason to know what was going on, but I could see on his face that he was desperately trying to figure it out.

“Does this have something to do with what you were talking to JJ about?”

An interesting question. I didn’t know the answer.

“Yes. No? Maybe. I guess?” I ran a hand over my face that landed on my throbbing temple. The lack of tears on my face almost surprised me. I probably should have been crying, but I wasn’t. In a way, it felt like I had no tears left to give. When I turned to him, bile rose in my throat and I was afraid that I might choke on it if I didn’t get the words out faster. I just had to tell him. He needed to know.

“Listen, I lied to you. And I need to say something.”

I had just gotten my breathing under control, just in time for his to go erratic. His pulse was visible in his throat as he swallowed. “Lied to me? About what?”

“I…” The world was rocking, and I couldn’t tell if it was because of the alcohol or my brain trying to comprehend my own self-destructive stupidity. I knew which one I was going to blame, though. “Fuck, I didn’t think I was this drunk.”

“What did you lie to me about?” he repeated, his hands gripping handfuls of the sheet in hopes of stopping the rest of his body from trembling.

“Well, I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you.”

It was the most useless clarification, and it did absolutely nothing to appease his concern. The longer the words stayed stuck and muddled in my mouth, the more devastated he seemed. In hindsight, I would realize all the millions of awful reasons his mind must have been feeding him in the absence of the truth.

“Please, whatever it is, just tell me,” Spencer begged with a hesitant, shaky hand coming to rest on top of mine. He wasn’t looking at me anymore. Instead, we both looked down at our hands. It was a mercy and a disservice. I just had to tell him, but I couldn’t convince myself to do it without looking him in the eyes. That didn’t mean I wasn’t grateful that he didn’t look back, though. Because once the words were said, there would be no going back from them.

He was going to hate me.

“I… stopped taking my birth control,” I whispered in a voice that felt so foreign. “Like, a while ago.”

Spencer’s jaw steeled, his eyes widening and shooting up to me with the same speed he used to jump off the bed. Despite my efforts to grab him, to stop him from leaving me, he was five feet away in a matter of seconds.

“What?!” he shouted. It was the loudest I’d ever heard him. Even the echoes felt deafening, and my hands covered my ears with a wince.

“Shit! That was loud!” I whined in a pathetic attempt to make him feel bad for me. I didn’t deserve it, but I think it worked. Because the next time he spoke, it was at a more manageable volume.

“What do you mean you stopped taking your birth control?! When?!”

“Stop yelling at me.” I pulled my knees to my chest and ignored the pain in my stomach when I did so. It felt well deserved.

“You aren’t joking, either. Why didn’t you tell me this?” Spencer continued, his hands raking through his hair while he started to pace the room.

Nothing about it felt real. I felt like I was stuck in one of my million recurring nightmares. I just wanted to wake up, to be somewhere other than in a room too small for the bass in his voice. I only barely saw him when he finally approached me. He still stayed a few feet away, but he met my eyes that stared vacantly at the wall ahead of me.  

“Answer me!”

Whether it was the order that broke me or the pain in his voice, all of my resolve and apathy shattered at once.

“You’ve always said you wanted to get me pregnant!” I screamed back, digging my nails into my skin in the hope of finding feeling there.

“Not like this! Not right now!” he scoffed. The sound would have hurt more if he hadn't stepped closer to me when he made it.

“Why not?!” I tried to sound angry, but all I heard was the plea beneath the words.

I just want to be useful. Please let me be useful.

“Are you serious?” Spencer’s disbelief was present in every ounce of his existence. His hands were alternating between fists and flat palms, his voice cracking and wavering in pitch. “What has gotten into you? You know that you can’t have a child right now.”

I bit down on my tongue in one final attempt to keep the scary words inside. But he couldn’t feel the way his words felt just like bullets and scar tissue that would never fully heal again.

“You almost died! Do you—“ he choked, but powered through his body’s attempt to stop the thought. “Do you understand the danger that would put you in?”

“I know, alright?! I know!” The words were loud and hoarse, and I covered my own ears to hopefully drown out the sound of failure on my own tongue. “I know I can’t have a fucking kid right now!”

“Then what are you doing?!”

I don’t know. Please, help me.

He waited for my answer, but it stayed trapped in my head. When I started to rock in place, my hands still clamped over my ears and the tears I swore I didn’t have starting to fall, he sighed.  

“Get up, we’re going to the store.”

“Why?” I spat, sinking further into my spot in a purely selfish manner.

“Get up,” he said again, this time reaching out for my hand.

But I didn’t want to touch him. I didn’t want him to touch me like this. I was scared that if I did what he wanted, then the fight would be over. And if the fight ended, then what would be left? Was this all just some elaborate ruse to get me in his car so that he could drive me home and leave me there?

His hand touched mine so softly, with so much patience and love that it burned. Why wasn’t he angrier? He should be.

“No!” I screamed, smacking his hand away from me. Although I knew it didn’t hurt, I saw him wince at the contact. His lips flattened as he looked at the stupid sobbing girl on his bed.  

Then he left. He turned on his heel, and with less patience that time, grumbled the explanation he'd refused to give before. “We’re going to the store and getting levonorgestrel so that you don’t make the stupidest mistake of your life.”

It wasn’t the words that got me to move, but the fact that he was quickly leaving the room. I scrambled after him recklessly, crashing into just about every stationary object in the way. The shock had hit me so hard that I forgot I was still drunk.

“Is it really that awful to imagine having a future with me?” I sobbed, chasing after him just to crash into him when he stopped.

He still caught me, but I couldn’t tell you why.

“You know that’s not what this is about.” He sounded so tired, but he kept going. He kept fighting with me even though I could see in his eyes that it was the last thing he wanted to do. “I love you, (y/n)! But you’re acting like… like a child!”

“Fuck you,” I seethed, pushing myself away from him.

I was scared that if I didn’t force our bodies apart, I would have fallen to pieces in his arms again. And I knew he would try to put me back together again. He would try to help me because that’s what he always did. But sometimes things are just completely, irrevocably broken. Sometimes there was simply no fixing it.

Good luck convincing Spencer of that.

“I don’t need this shit and I don’t need to go to the store,” I muttered under my breath as I made my way back into the bedroom to locate my purse that I’d so gracefully thrown on the floor.

“(Y/n), just because the chances of pregnancy are low doesn’t mean they are nonexistent, and I’m not going to be the reason you throw your life away! You said yourself you aren’t ready to be a housewife!” I heard him rambling from the other room. Eventually, he followed the sounds of plastic packaging and rustling paper.

“Shut up,” I groaned, finally getting the tiny pill free and successfully shoving it in my mouth before I managed to drop it. “Just leave me alone, Spencer.”

Obviously, it wasn’t going to work. After all, I was in his apartment, and currently sitting cross legged in the middle of his bedroom and trying to dry swallow a pill that tasted a lot like every mistake I’d ever made.

“When did you buy that? And why do you have it with you?” He didn’t sound angry at all anymore. He didn’t even particularly sound annoyed or confused, just… exhausted.

“You’re welcome for saving you the drive.”

Of all the things he could have done, he chose the one I expected the least. He came to me, and carefully lowered himself to the ground in front of me. At first, that was all he did. He just sat across from me with puppy dog eyes and an awkward posture.

“Look at me,” he called gently.

“I don’t want to.”

He sighed, waiting another second to catch his breath and let the earlier emotions settle in the air. “You had that in your purse. Why?” he asked as he reached forward to grab the remnants of the torn up box and confirm that it was what he thought it was. Once he was satisfied, he just sounded even more broken. “You’ve clearly thought about it enough to plan ahead, but apparently I wasn’t important enough to have a say in any of these decisions.”

The pain that was forming in my stomach hurt worse than the AR-15.

“Were you just… Just planning on making those decisions without even telling me?” He was on the verge of tears, though he tried his very best to hide it.  It might’ve worked if I'd been both drunk and an idiot, but unfortunately the adrenaline was combatting the alcohol pretty well at that point.

With both hands covering his face, I could still see the way his jaw tensed between the words. “It would be my child, too,” he forced out, “You don’t— You don’t get to make those decisions without me. T-That’s not fair.”

The sounds were so pitiful, and I wanted to feel anything but what I felt. I wanted to feel angry or sad again, but I couldn’t. All I felt was hate; the most powerful, soul crushing self-loathing imaginable.

I didn’t want to be the reason he cried. I wanted it to stop, but I didn’t know how. I couldn’t control myself. I just kept rubbing salt in the wound so he would leave. So that I could hate him for leaving me instead of hating myself for making him.

“There’s no kid. I would’ve taken it either way.”

That succeeded in getting a response.

“Then what was the point of any of this?!” he fumed, dropping his hands to gestured to the state of us, dressed in pajamas and tears. “If you really believe that, then why tell me? Why risk it at all?!”

“I don’t know.”

“I deserve a better answer than that. That’s bullshit and you know it,” he demanded with an accusing finger.

But I didn’t know that it was bullshit. Really, it was the truth. I didn’t know why I was doing this. All I knew was that if I stopped, if I was just honest with him, I would have to face a reality I wasn’t ready for.

“I deserve the truth,” he said as his hand fell, unable to stay up under the weight of the feeling behind it.

I looked at him and I saw my mistakes in the form of tears trickling down his cheeks and a tremble in his lips. I saw a man who deserved nothing but the greatest love, begging me to give him something to work with. He wasn’t asking me for the world — he just wanted me to talk. To say something so that he could understand why I wanted him to hate me.

I didn’t have an answer. Not one that either of us would believe, anyway.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Spencer.” My lips moved without my permission, and my legs quickly followed the traitorous pursuit.

“What does that mean?” he begged me as he followed me. He followed me like he always did, with that suffocating hopefulness that we could make it.

But what if I couldn’t? What if this was it for me? What if, in my desperate desire to push him away, I was saving him from a miserable life with me?

I was trying to save him.

“It means…” I paused, turning to look him in the eyes so that he might finally hear what he needed to in my answer. “It means you should’ve picked a different 20 year old to fuck.”

His jaw finally relaxed, dropping open with a broken breath.

And I think he saw it. I think he saw the way I meant the words from the bottom of my soul. He heard me tell him that he should regret me while I tried to walk away, and he knew that I meant it.

“I’m leaving.” The words surprised me when I heard them in my own voice, but I followed them, nonetheless. I barreled towards the door with bare feet and my keys in my hand.

“Where are you going? You can’t leave like this.” His statements were logical, but that only served to further piss me off.

“You can’t tell me what to do. I’m not your property!”

That wasn’t why I was angry. We both knew that wasn’t why. The real reason, the truth behind the reckless self-destruction was approaching too fast and I couldn’t slow it down. Nothing could stop it from rushing down the predetermined path that we stood on, and I was begging him to get off the tracks.  

“If you leave right now, you’re going to fucking kill yourself!”

And then it happened. Practically foaming at the mouth with the unhinged rage that had been boiling underneath my skin for too long, I finally managed to let the words go.

“Maybe that’s the fucking point!”

Silence had never been so loud. It had never been that heavy.

“Have you ever stopped to consider that, Spencer?” I laughed because there was no reason in my mind not to. It all seemed so terribly obvious and we’d been skirting around it for so long. Why were we pretending like this was news? Like we hadn’t heard the horns and seen the headlights approaching?

“Please stop.” It was said like a plea but meant as an order. But I never listened to directions and he already knew that.

“I’m not your problem just because you were unfortunate enough to fall in love with me,” I continued, finding a freedom in being able to finally say what I’d been thinking all along. “Put me out of my fucking misery, Spencer. Just let me go.”

“Stop!” he shouted, pulling fistfuls of his hair as his chest heaved with deep, rasping breaths. I’d heard that voice from him before, but only once. The memories were locked away in the part of my brain that I swore to leave locked up.

I was back in the bank. I could feel his hands slipping in blood on my stomach and pressing into my cheeks. I was in the ambulance again. His hands were so warm that they burned, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask him to leave. I'd had one foot in the grave then. I felt like I was still there, teetering over the edge with nothing but Spencer’s frantic breathing and desperate begging keeping me from jumping in.

“Stop saying that!” Spencer ordered, his hands letting go just enough to come back down on his head with some force. I jumped at the contact and wondered when I'd started feeling his pain, too.  I wondered when we'd found ourselves back in his apartment again.

“Y-You aren’t going to die!” He continued. It didn’t have the force of an order or the pathetic breaking of a cry. It was just a statement he was trying to will into existence. An attempt to ward off memories that reminded him he was capable of losing me. He had already almost lost me once. In a way, it was this same scenario.

It was just that he wasn’t losing me quickly from a gunshot wound. No, I was bleeding out in an entirely different way.

“You can’t— I can’t lose you. I can’t do it again,” he sobbed, falling to his knees and not caring at all about the bruises that would follow. The sight of him collapsing in on himself was terrifying, and I realized for the first time the true consequences of my actions. I couldn’t pretend that I was trying to save him anymore. I couldn’t listen to the congested, barely comprehensible ramblings of a man begging me not to want to die and act like I was thinking of him at all.

I was being selfish. How very much like me.

“Please, anything but that. You can hate me forever, but please don’t…” The words trailed off, and I felt compelled to answer them. I needed something to release the knot in my chest and allow my lungs to fill again.

“I don’t hate you, Spencer. I could never hate you.” The words were infuriating in their honesty, but he needed to hear them. He needed to know that none of this was his fault, that he’d done nothing wrong other than meet me.

I couldn’t leave him like that. He deserved so much better than me, but that was all that I had. So, I climbed down next to him, reaching out to him and hoping that he would hold me back.

To my surprise, he did. His hands grabbed mine like they were a lifeline, bringing them to his lips wet with tears. And although he was silent, I could hear the way he prayed that they wouldn’t fade away from him again.

“I-I… I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell you. I’m supposed to be the adult here, I’m supposed to know how to fix these things, but I have no idea what I’m doing, (y/n).”

It was an admission Spencer didn’t often make. The complete helplessness and inability to fix the puzzle before him didn’t just hurt because it was painful to watch, it was also just another reminder of his limits.

One time he had promised me that he wouldn’t let anything hurt me. I should have told him that it was a stupid promise to make then. I should have showed him the skeletons in my closet and the mess in my hands.

But it didn’t matter anymore. He had already seen it, and it was too late. I’d made too many mistakes, and I had to face them. I couldn’t run away anymore. That meant listening to Spencer, pouring his heart out to me and clutching my hands like they would turn to nothing in front of him.

“You’re falling apart and you won’t talk to me. I don’t know how to make this stop hurting. I don’t know how to help you. Sometimes you’re so happy but other times I can see it in your eyes…”

Our eyes met, unguarded, for the first time in what felt like hours but was actually probably only a few minutes. We looked into each other’s eyes and tried to read each other’s minds. I didn’t know what he saw, but I heard the way it struck him.

“Do you… Do you want to leave me?” he asked.

And I realized then, that was what my behavior was leading up to. That was what my mind was racing towards, without ever considering whether it was what was best for me. Because I wasn’t thinking about what was best for me, or what I wanted, or what I should want. All I cared about was the same concern Spencer had for me— I didn’t want him to throw his life away just to be with me.

“Is that what you want?” I asked.

Spencer heard something in my question that brought life back to his eyes. I wished that I could hear his thoughts because he always seemed so much farther ahead. Like he could see the immediate future and knew what would follow.

Then again, maybe I was just idealizing him. I had a tendency to do that. He wasn’t a superhero. He was just a man, trying his best in a world that never really let him rest. I certainly didn’t help with that.

“No. No, that’s not what I want at all,” he said, his hands finding the courage to let go of mine and slide up my arms. He cupped my face with such an urgency and relief that it almost felt the same as before I had uttered those terrifying words. “I told you I want to marry you and I wasn’t kidding.”

It only took a few words for any progress and vulnerability to be obliterated. Four words. That’s all it took.

I want to marry you.

A white picket fence is what I’d promised him. I'd painted a vivid image of us with two children that were just like him. A normal, domestic life is what I’d said.

I hadn't known. I'd made a mistake. I had lied.

“Stop fucking saying that!” I wished the fight would leave my body and let my weary muscles rest, but it kept coming back. Sure as the sun rises in the morning, I couldn’t let go of the hatred. It had to go somewhere, and Spencer continued to be the stupid, stubborn man putting himself in front of me without any defenses.

I don’t think he was expecting that, though. He jumped back at the sound, his hands bracing his fall as I flailed to get away from him. I didn’t have the energy or coordination to stand, so I just let myself fall to pieces on the floor in front of him.

“Stop telling me about this future you have planned for us b-because I’m a useless, idiotic fuck up, and it’s freaking me the fuck out!”

Naturally, the only thing that could incense Spencer more than violating his trust was, apparently, talking badly about myself. Because as soon as he heard the words, he was wound up just the same.

“What are you so afraid of?!”

Without thinking about the words, implications, or consequences, I gave him the answer he fought for. I gave it to him because I couldn’t hold it any longer. I gave it to him and hoped that it would grant me the closure he sought, too.

“That I won’t ever be able to give you a baby and you’re going to fucking leave me!”

Spencer, in all his shock and disbelief, could only utter back a single, exasperated, “…What?” The way the word fell out of his mouth almost sounded like a laugh, the side of his lips curling into an almost imperceptible smile.

“I’m scared that when I stop being useful to you, you’re going to leave me like everyone else,” I explained, my voice as small as I felt in that moment.

But Spencer, in his uncanny ability to predict the future, was trying not to smile. Don’t get me wrong — he wasn’t laughing at me, and the words certainly brought him no joy. But there was something else buried beneath the suffering.

“Come here,” he requested with a sad, small grin and a wave of his hand. When he saw the hesitance on my face, he beckoned me closer again with more feeling. “I want to talk to you. Come here.”

So I came. I came as close to him as I could. And as I practically sat in his lap, I remembered how much easier it was to breathe when he held me, and how much lighter the tears felt when he wiped them a way.

“Why do you think I’m going to leave you?” he asked through a chuckle, like the very notion was so unbelievable that it couldn’t be uttered as anything other than a joke.

“Y-You want kids,” I mumbled, looking down at our t-shirts wet with tears. I played with the hem of his to remind myself that we were both still there. And although Spencer sympathized, he didn’t seem too keen on me looking away at that particular moment. With a gentle finger under my chin, he guided my eyes back to his.

“Okay. So do you, right?”

“Well, yeah…” I paused and pursed my lips and bit down on the bottom one. I waited until he raised his eyebrows in a challenge before I explained. “But what if I can’t have any?”

Spencer’s face scrunched up with his shoulders in a dismissive shrug, “There are other ways to have kids. I’m not worried about that at all.”

Just like that, he’d waved away my fears of inadequacy and failure like they were smoke from an already snuffed out candle. He made it so clear so quickly that biology wasn’t the thing that mattered. That it wasn’t my genetics or physical traits that made him want to share a literal life with me.

Spencer didn’t need me to have his children; he just wanted me to raise some with him.

“Why are you worried about that? Did something happen?” he pressed forward, unsatisfied with the idea that I might still be carrying some heaviness without his assistance.

“The doctor told me that I might not ever be able to have my own kids and I just...”

I should have known better than to doubt the insistence of his greedy hands. They would never let a burden belong solely to me. And I… didn’t want to bear the weight alone anymore, either. The dam was broken, and my heart came rushing out into his waiting arms.

“I’m so tired of it, Spencer. I’m tired of this stupid shit stealing my life away from me. You’ve been taking care of me for months, a-and the way you look at me sometimes-- I can see it on your face. I can feel the way it hurts you just to look at me.”

That hurt flashed in his eyes right then but faded with a swiftness I hadn’t seen in a long time. He didn’t want me to see it yet. One fight at a time, I heard him think. When this shifted load balanced between us again, we could figure the rest out.

First, we had to settle this. It had to end.

“If I can’t give you children, and I can’t... I can’t make you happy then—“

“Stop,” he demanded, his finger coming up to cover my lips. There was no argument to be made at his protest. With a deathly seriousness veiled with bowed brows and a lip that still trembled, Spencer whispered to me, “You can feel however you want to, but you don’t get to decide how I feel.”

Tears welled in both of our eyes, threatening to fall with the other. But they didn’t, they stayed pooled at our lashes and drowned us in visions of haloed lights and blurry reflections.

“I am so happy with you. No matter what. Every second of every day. Do you understand me?”

The only answer I had the strength to give was my surrender. Collapsing forward into his arms, I buried my face into his shoulder. I reveled in the warmth of his chest and the strength of his hands on my back. I felt his heartbeat against my cheek as the deep, joyful breaths he took in came out as relieved laughter.

“I love you, (y/n).”

He must have heard, or at least felt, my soft groan in response, because he peeled me off of him with a smirk. “What’s wrong now?” he asked in an equally tired whine.

“You only use my name when you’re angry or sad,” I grumbled through a pout. It only felt a little silly, to joke about something so stupid minutes after screaming our hearts at each other. We were just so tired, and the finish line was in sight. We just wanted to cross it together, and preferably with less tears involved.

Spencer didn’t say any of that, but I felt it, nonetheless. It was clear in the way he pushed my hair from my face before running his fingers down my jaw. “I use your name when I’m worried,” he corrected. “And you scared me tonight. I’m sorry that you’ve been feeling this way.”

We were toeing the line back into heavy emotions, and I shook my head to ask him not to take me back there tonight. But I couldn’t blame him at the same time. He’d so gracefully handled all of my fears and rage; he deserved a chance to voice his own. They’d fallen so far behind in the race towards the truth.

“I understand you were scared to tell me, but...” he stopped, trying to find a way to explain it without hurting my feelings. He really was too nice to me.

“I know. It was stupid. I feel terrible,” I finished for him. Once my face hit his shoulder again, I closed my eyes. “I’m sorry, Spencer,” I said with almost all of the energy I had left. He stroked soothing patterns over my back, and after a moment I realized that we’d started to rock. I wasn’t sure if it was for his benefit or mine.

“I appreciate your apology, but please promise me that you’ll talk to someone about this,” he humbly requested, his words muffled in my hair.

“Isn’t that what I’m doing right now?”

It was almost a joke. Spencer wasn’t going to let it go, though. “Don’t try to be clever with me, little girl. I need you to talk to someone who knows how to help you,” he playfully scolded.

Through a yawn and a chuckle, I pressed on in my attempt to end the night on a horrible joke. “Isn’t that your whole job?”

“Yeah, I guess it is sometimes, huh?” he agreed halfheartedly. Really, he was only trying to give me a little bit of a win. We both knew his job wasn’t very good at helping people before the fact. It was just another poor attempt at avoiding healing. I had been holding on to that anger so tightly that there wasn’t room for us in the space that was left.

“But I think you also know I can’t be that person for you,” Spencer eloquently said, cradling my head as it started to rock with each motion.

“Yeah, I know,” I sighed, “I promise.”

I’m not sure how long we stayed like that, but no matter what, it wouldn’t have lasted long enough. The rhythm of his heart evened out over time, settling into the lullaby I needed to finally find some rest. But realistically, we couldn’t sleep there. Spencer was kind enough to practically carry me back into the bed we had shared when this all started, although this time he laid beside me.

From there, he helped tuck me in and pressed a chaste kiss to my forehead. My eyes were closed, but the smile that spread over my cheeks was enough of a signal that I was still awake.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

My bloodshot eyes opened at his call, and I found love staring back at me. I knew he could see my eyes bouncing back and forth as I tried to see all of it at once in his eyes, and I didn’t care. Even when he kissed me, neither of us closed them.

“We don’t have to worry about anything,” he said as our mouths broke apart. His thumb swept over my cheeks to all the places I knew he was thinking about kissing. There was a very poor attempt to hide his smile at the thought of the future, but I appreciated the effort he put in.

“When you’re ready to try to have kids, I’ll be right there with you,” he said.

It was clear that Spencer really wanted it to be a meaningful sentiment, but I was still a little bitter at his failure to laugh at my previous terrible jokes. So when I saw the opportunity, I took it swiftly and with no regrets.

“I sure hope so, or else I don’t think it’ll work,” I muttered through the side of my mouth before turning onto my back.  

Spencer’s first carefree giggle of the night was my prize, and I couldn’t have loved it any more. “That’s my little girl,” he cooed, curling up against my side and wrapping a possessive arm over my chest.

Just before my eyes fluttered shut, I saw movement below my face. I kept them open long enough to see his pinky presented to me and a knowing look in his eyes. “Everything will be alright as long as we have each other,” Spencer offered.

And despite our bad history with promises, I had no reasons left to doubt that one. 

—————————————————

| Part 21 |

[nonobadcat]

Updated: Nov 29th, 2021

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Full stories are for 18+ ADULTS ONLY. DO NOT click the links unless you are comfortable with the warnings and READ ALL TAGS throughly.

Stories below the cut:

1. A Taste Of Your Own Venom

Yandere Shigaraki Tomura X Consensual Reader

(Bet you’re all wondering who the heck that works, right?)

After your good deed goes severely punished, your world goes from the fast track to just barely eeking out a shadow of existence. You escape into a multiplayer video game only to befriend a man who is as bitter about life as you. However, unlike you, he intends to do something about it.

Should you cling to the tattered threads of your morality or just let everything unravel?

Timeline: Closely follows the BNHA cannon with minor deviations at times

Update Schedule: Season 1 complete (up to chapter 240) - season 2 expectd to start 2022

Reader Age: Mid-20s

Reader Gender: Female

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Medical Gore, Consensual Relationship with Yandere Undertones, Cannon Violence and Character Death

2. Feeling the Spirit

Kinktober 2022 - Ghost Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

After house hunting for nigh on two years, you finally find a old, turn of the 20th century, Second Empire estate in Smalltown, USA. Sure, it's located right on the loudest train tracks in Podunk County and yes, it needs more than a few repairs. Still, the price is a steal and the antique furniture is included! How can you pass that up?

It's too bad for you that taking possession of a new home is never easy, especially when the home is already possessed.

Timeline: Real World October 2022 

Update Schedule: Finished by October 31st, 2022

Reader Age: Mid-20s to late 30s

Reader Gender: Female

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Toys, Voyeurism, sex with a ghost 

A Hypnotic Nightmare

Yandere All For One X Reader (Pre-series Timeline)

Your thirteen-year marriage to a work-a-holic husband ended when he replaced your loyalty with a nubile little teenage waif. You returned home to Niigata to work your family's seaside snack shack and lick your wounds. Like something out a novel, a chance encounter with a handsome stranger seemed to turn the page to a new chapter in your life. However, what started as a summer romance begins to look more and more like a horror story with each passing day.

Timeline: Pre-series

Update Schedule: Every other week as long as the cat can hold out

Reader Age: 35-40 years

Reader Gender: Female

Rating: Explicit - caution strongly advised

Warnings: Yandere, Rape, Dubious Consent, Gore (Non-reader Directed), Mentally Abusive Relationship, Numerous Kinks

A Blistering Affection

Yandere Dr. Chisaki Kai X Nurse Reader

Just around the start of the worldwide pandemic, you broke out in a seemingly harmless rash. Between night school and a new job at a Dermatology office, you never had time to follow up on the problem. However, by October, your skin was itchy, peeling, and disgusting. By accident, you catch the eye of the handsome but notoriously cold Dr. Chisaki. Interested in your rare disorder, he offered to help you find the cause in exchange for becoming his case study patient.

Too bad his help would come with a price.

Time line:  Alternative Universe - Real World - 2020/2021

Update Schedule: Story is complete after chapter 6. However, some random continuations which match the actual timeline of the story may occur.

Reader Age: Never specified but implied 25-35 years

Reader Gender: Female

Rating: Explicit - caution strongly advised

Warnings: Yandere, Rape, Abusive Relationship, Drugging, Medical Kinks, Behavior by a doctor that is not only unprofessional but should result in criminal charges

A Plastic Attraction

Rappa Kendou X Femdom Reader

As a boarded plastic surgeon, working at The Arena was a pass time side-job. The place was disgusting, the manager was a sleaze bag, and the fighters were pretty much a sausage fest. Still, you got to run your medical bay your way and, for once in your life, do something more interesting than fixing rich old people's chicken jowls.

However, when a new brawler rolls into your exam room with impressive injures for you to patch, things start to get a little more exciting.

Timeline: BNHA cannon after Underground Masquerade

Update Schedule: Complete!

Reader Age: Not stated but implied 30-40 years

Reader Gender: Female

Rating: Explicit - this is actually the healthiest relationship of the bunch

Warnings: Medical Gore, Consensual Relationship, Sub Rappa, Cannon Violence, Love Bites, Condom Use

A Bridge to the Bottom

Troll Muscular X Human Reader

From the moment you fled him, you knew there would be precious few places that you could escape The Duke of Tredal. Sure, legends said that in the dense fog of the Natt Valley, trolls lay in wait for weary travelers who lost their way in the dark. Nevertheless, with your pursuers hot on your heels, you had little choice but to head for the Old Bridge if you wanted to escape the fife. After two days on the run, you finally collapsed from exhaustion. Desperate to survive, you cried out to the stars for the strength to go on.

However, it was a monster from the deep that would answer your call.

Timeline: Fantasy Alternative Universe, Muscular has his quirk due to monster nature.

Update Schedule: Completed after 4 chapters

Reader Age: Not stated but implied 20-30 years

Reader Gender: Female

Rating: Explicit 

Warnings: Yandere, Extreme Gore, Cannibalism (troll on troll and troll on human), Non-con and Dub-con, Moster Fucking, Kidnapping, Breeding, Drugging, Graphic Descriptions of Lung Disease (NOT a vore fic - reader remains unmaimed/uneaten at the end)

A Liar Played by the Heartstrings

Yandere Mr. Compress X Female Reader

Six months into your relationship with the "Incredible Mr. Compress", your future seems as bright as the stage lights under which he makes his name. However, your best friend, Harada Yumiko, has her doubts about this "perfect" stranger who seems to have magically appeared in your life. While he continues to shower you with increasingly serious affections, Yumiko's words make you start to ponder one thing:

How much do you really know about Sako Atsuhiro?

Timeline: Pre-series

Update Schedule: Complete

Reader Age: Early to midthirties

Reader Gender: Female

Rating: Explicit - Reader Discresion Advised

Warnings: Rape, breeding/pregnancy kink, condom failure, unwanted pregnancy, discussions of abortion, stalking. A consensual relationship that devolves into non-con.

Dedicated to Miss_Mystery3

All For One X Gender Neutral Reader: Meta

Yandere Shigaraki Tomura x Gender Neutral Reader: Snuggling in bed

A Hypnotic Nightmare “What If” scenario - “What if Nana tried to save you and you went back to AFO anyways?”

All For One Forces a Bunny Quirk on Reader

Merman All For One Hypnotizes and Breeds Reader

Headcannons - Reader with AFO as the father of the children

Yandere Japanese Professor All For One gets college graduate reader drunk and diddles them (male and female versions)

Tomura playing video games on your couch (GN)

Virgin Spinner gets a manicure and praise (GN)

All For One with Pregnant Fem!Reader on Valentine’s Day

Headcannon: Yandere AFO and his darling go to work. 

Maid For Your Master

Male Yandere X AFAB Reader - Gothic/Horror Romance

RUMORS RUIN REPUTATIONS. FOR A MAID, THEY CAN BE MADDENING.

The sharp-tongued Professor Campbell, your employer, is dead. Insinuations about your “nightly duties” make finding a new position impossible. Just as you exhaust the last of your options, an unexpected offer of employment comes from a man you’ve never met: Sicarius Estrova – shipping magnate, eligible bachelor, and an old friend of the professor.

His household, Gravelorne Manor, is far from the picture-perfect image it projects. The staff are rowdy, the mansion is bizarrely furnished, and your beguiling master seems to delight in playing calculating mind games. Too old for the nonsense, you meet his perverse teasing with biting wit and pernicious poise. However, when his endless taunts turn into a sudden proposal, you cannot help but feel something is amiss.

Seduced by his amorous attentions and the promise of financial security, you enter into a marriage where the only certainty is Sicarius’s obsessive desire to mold you into his world. As your husband flip-flops between hopeless romantic and shameless devil, you begin to wonder what wicked schemes hide behind that charming smile.

Setting: Steampunk 1930s

Reader Age: Late 20s to early 40s

Reader Gender: Female

Rating: Explicit 

Warnings: Yandere, Gore, PnV, fingering, oral, cum play, pet play (feline), and Maid-Master play, full TW list here

Price: $4.99 ebook, $14.99 paperback (both available worldwide)

Barnes and Noble

Amazon US/CA/UK/DE/AU/BR/JP (sample available)

Google Play (sample available)

Bookdepository.com

Booktopia AU

[endless-summer-soldier]

dr. feelgood - chapter four

pairing: Surgeon!Bucky x SurgicalIntern!Reader

summary: Y/N has a one night stand with a handsome stranger the night before starting her new job as a surgical intern. Little does she know, the handsome stranger also happens to be her new boss

warnings: must be 18+, drinking, some surgery descriptions, smut, self-pleasure, praise kink, very minor character death, unprotected sex, rough sex

word count: 2.1k

series playlist: here

taglist: @sebsgirl71479 @ozwriterchick @notmeddy @drewsuncrustables @lokidokieokie @hextech-bros @nats-whore @m4nulup1n @arcanebabe @tanyaspartak @jackiehollanderr @princezzjasmine @fallenlilangel99 @pono-pura-vida @mavrellover91 @milanaasblog (message me to be added!)

series masterlist

It had been two weeks since the “incident” with Bucky. I had been avoiding him as much as possible but managed to keep things professional when I did have to interact with him. 

Today most of the interns were sitting in the gallery preparing to watch Dr. Stark perform an open heart surgery. This was the most intense surgery since I started and we were all eager to watch his technique.

As Stark finished scrubbing, he entered the OR and started dancing around the patient, jamming to Metallica. And then I smelled it. Honeycrisp apples. I had an immediate reaction, remembering my tryst with Bucky, and I felt my underwear dampen ever so slightly.

“Did I miss anything?” Bucky whispered in my ear, as he took another bite of his apple.

“He’s just getting started,” I replied, refusing to look at him.

Stark cranked up the music as he called for the ten blade.

“Why don’t we get to listen to music and dance in your OR?” I joked.

He scoffed, “I hate that he does this. He loves to put on a show and entertain. He’s brilliant but he thinks more about himself than his patients.”

“Mmm,” I said, snacking on a pretzel and trying not to engage further.

“When I was in Afghanistan, there was no music. Hell we barely had the proper tools. We were operating on the battlefield with whatever we could carry on our backs. And he will never understand that. So yes, it drives me crazy that he takes all this for granted.”

He seemed worked up and he made a really great point. While it seemed fun to be in Stark’s OR, he did seem a little flashy considering he was conducting heart surgery.

“How long did you serve?”

“I was enlisted for twelve years, but some of that time was spent in medical school. I was overseas for…six years.”

“Thank you for your service,” I said, looking at him for the first time.

“Thank you. I really appreciate that.”

“As fun as it looks in there, I’d much rather be scrubbed in with you,” I said. It was a genuine comment, not flirty. I respected that he valued everything at his disposal and worked with the sole interest of the patient in mind.

“You just like watching me scrub,” he flirted, changing the tone.

“There’s nothing I like more than a clean man,” I joked. He genuinely chuckled and took another bite of his apple.

As Stark continued on with the surgery, he kept looking up at his crowd and making eyes with all of us, as if showing off. I could practically feel Bucky rolling his eyes next to me. A few minutes later he leaned in and said, “I think I’ve had enough of this.” I felt him stand up and leave the room, bored with the procedure. I found that I wasn’t far behind him. Bucky had shown a light on this surgery that I hadn’t thought of before. And so, I finished my bag of pretzels and left to go check on some of my patients. 

As I reached the nurses’ station, Bucky appeared at my side and said, “We got a case coming into the ER. A homeless man was sleeping in a dumpster and got picked up by a trash truck. Multiple injuries, you want in?”

“Absolutely.”

It was my first bad day in the hospital. It was bound to happen eventually, but I didn’t think it would impact me this much. I was assigned to Dr. Strange’s service today to complete a tumor resection. Our patient’s name was Jarvis. Despite having the name of a butler, Jarvis was in his early forties and was an absolute delight of a patient. He was polite and asked good medical questions, but he also made an attempt to get to know all the doctors and nurses tending to him. He shared with me that he was a computer programmer and was fascinated by all the technology we used at the hospital. He somehow managed to gain the respect of Strange, which was impressive considering most doctors in the hospital hadn’t even tackled that feat.

And after spending the last week in the hospital, greeting me warmly every morning, he died in surgery. I knew better than to get attached, and I wouldn’t say that I was, but I was fond of the guy. He was young and had his whole life ahead of him. He was planning to express his feelings to the woman he was secretly in love with after his surgery. But he would never get that chance; he wouldn’t wake up. Strange called time of death cavalierly, as if we hadn’t been joking around with him hours before. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to dissociate like that.

After my shift ended, I went to Pym’s, the bar across the street. The last thing I wanted was to ponder my thoughts alone in my apartment.

“Whatcha havin?” Scott, the owner of the bar, asked. A lot of the hospital staff frequented the establishment which meant we were all on a first name basis with Scott.

“Tullamore Dew, neat.” Scott gave me a surprised look before pouring the Irish whiskey.

“Long day?” he asked.

I nodded, “Something like that.” He gave me a sad smile and added a little extra to the rocks glass in front of me.

“Thanks Scott.”

“Let me know if you need anything else.” He read people so well. When I came in with a smile on my face and ordered tequila, he would chat with me and ask about my life and the hospital. But today he gave me some space, which was appreciated.

I took a long swig of whiskey and let out a deep breath, trying to forget the events of the day.

“Drinking whiskey? That can’t be good.” I felt someone sit in the seat next to me and glanced over to find Bucky.

“Hi Dr. Barnes,” I said, turning my attention back to my drink.

“Doll, we’re outside of work. Call me Bucky.”

“Yeah whatever,” I muttered. He flagged down Scott and pointed to my drink, as if to say I’ll have what she’s having.  

Once the drink was in front of him, he said, “So what are we drinking to tonight?”

I stayed quiet for a while, searching my whiskey for answers, before I decided to talk.

“Does it ever get easier?” I asked, turning for the first time to face Bucky.

He looked into my eyes and seemingly understood my predicament. 

He shook his head and looked down to his drink, “No it doesn’t.”

“I just didn’t think it would be this hard, you know? They covered all this in med school. We talked about the emotional toll this job takes and we practiced breaking the news to family members, but…I don’t think anything could’ve prepared me for the real thing.”

“It’s by far the worst part of the job. And everytime it happens, you feel like shit. Sometimes it's worse than usual. And then sometimes you sort of become numb to it. But no matter how numb you get, there will always be another case that makes you question your career.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” I asked, taking another sip of my drink.

“Hey, I’m just telling you the truth.”

“I do appreciate that. Better than sugar coating it.”

“There is one thing I’ve found that helps me.”

“What’s that?”

“I either come here or I make myself a drink at home. And I think about that person’s life. The highs, the lows, their family, friends, and then I think through the surgery. And I ask myself, is there anything I should’ve done differently. Sometimes there are things you could’ve changed, other times it was bound to happen. And you learn from it. You give yourself time to be upset, let it out. And then you move forward.”

His advice was oddly insightful.

“You're welcome for sharing that, by the way. Took me years to get into a good routine. And maybe that doesn’t work for you, but you need to find a way to reflect productively.”

“Thank you, really.”

“Do you want to talk about them?”

I nodded, “His name was Jarvis. He was an absolute pleasure to be around. He was so respectful of everyone working on his case. He never buzzed the nurses when he needed something because he knew how busy they were and he didn’t want to give them more work to do. He asked really insightful questions when we walked through the procedure; he had clearly done his research. And everytime I went in to check on him before the surgery, he asked me how I was doing. He asked what my plans were for the evening. He saw me as a human being, not just a doctor.”

“What was he in for?”

“Brain tumor. Not easy to remove, but Strange was confident he could get it. And he was close, but…” I couldn’t continue, and Bucky seemed to understand.

I was surprised to feel his hand on my back, gently rubbing up and down.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Thanks for sitting here and listening to me.”

“Any time. And hey, just remember how many people we do help. This job isn’t easy, but the wins are what keep us going.”

I nodded and finished my drink, and thought about my next move. 

“You heading home?” he asked me. He had nearly finished his drink.

“I’ll stay for one more,” I smiled. He nodded and called to Scott, asking for another round. “Why don’t you tell me about your day?”

“Oh well, strap in because you are about to be very impressed.” I appreciated him changing the mood to one of levity. It served as a great distraction, even if he was over exaggerating his successes. He continued to throw in jokes, and compliments, in an attempt to make me smile, which worked like a charm.

We spent the remainder of the drink talking about the surgery he completed that day. I asked him questions and pictured his procedure in my head, wishing I had been with him in the OR instead of assigned to Strange.

Our glasses were empty and Bucky instinctively handed over his credit card to pay for our rounds, despite my protests. “You’re an intern, I know how much you make. Take the free drinks,” he argued. He settled up the bill and we collected our things, departing our local bar.

“Can I walk you to your car?” he asked me.

I thought about protesting, declaring myself an independent woman who could care for herself. But I found I didn’t have the fight in me today. 

“Sure,” I smiled. We walked toward the parking lot of the hospital in comfortable silence. When we reached my car, there was a moment. We looked at each other and I could sense him reading me, trying to figure out his next move. The tension between us was high, and I genuinely considered giving into my pining. It would be nice to have some company tonight, even if it was just to share a glass of wine and partake in some innocent cuddling. But there was nothing innocent about Bucky Barnes, and inviting him into my home would be like asking in a vampire: my defenses against his seduction would be useless and I��d wake up with bruises on my neck.

“Thanks Buck,” I eventually said, unlocking my car.

“Any time,” he said, as he took a careful step backwards. “You working tomorrow?” he added.

I simply nodded and gave him a soft smile.

“Good, I’m requesting you for my service. We’re gonna save some lives.”

Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t sleep. I contemplated another whiskey, but was keen to avoid a hangover in the morning. Instead, my eyes were affixed to the ceiling as I half-heartedly listened to a podcast in an attempt to lull me to sleep.

What puzzled me was that I wasn’t up thinking about Jarvis, I was thinking about Bucky. He provided the exact support that I needed in my moment of despair, proving he was more than just a good lay. Suddenly, the line between personal and professional didn’t seem so clear.

Sure, it was unethical to get involved with a superior, but it must’ve happened in hospitals all the time. Surgeons spend a majority of their time in the hospital, fraternization must be commonplace. It didn’t seem like such a big deal anymore. Who cares about what other people think, shouldn’t my happiness come first?

Before I realized what was happening, my fingers were inside of me and a moan was escaping my lips. Bucky was on my mind, in every position imaginable. Pumping vigorously, then slowly. His lips on my neck, his tongue circling my ear. His musky scent penetrating my nasal cavity. The thought of it was all too much, and I came undone so easily. As I was gently overcome by sleep, I knew that things had changed and I was in trouble.

next chapter

[djarrex]

Countermeasures || 1

Archives

Fives x ofc!reader

x | next chapter ->

| main masterlist | series masterlist | read on ao3 |

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: mentions of lust? is that a warning? otherwise, nothing yet ;)

chapter summary: Renna (you), an intern who spent the entirety of her internship thus far filing paperwork in the archives of Tipoca City’s medical wing, finally is able to work with a real patient - that patient just so happens to be Fives.

note: Renna will basically be taking the place of AZI-3 in the Conspiracy arc. A lot of the dialogue I wrote is from the episode, and of course I added more to dig deeper into Renna and Fives as characters. When this idea came in my head I was only planning on writing it as a oneshot. As I starting writing this, however, I realized there was so much more that could be done with it since this arc is both a good one and a sad one. If you’re ready to go on this journey with me, then keep going under the cut! <3 Also, I wanted to add that there will be POV changes in this chapter. I don’t know if I’ll stick with that going forward, but we’ll see.

* tbh special thanks to @bvcketfvcker for coming up with the series title and being da Best™ 

***

The archives of the medical wing in Tipoca City, the capital of the watery planet Kamino, were always so cold and lonely. Every single day of your internship thus far has included you being nearly drowned in paperwork, no real field experience to show for it.

You’ve been on Kamino for your medical internship for what, close to six months now? You were still stuck doing paperwork. Maybe at the six month mark you’d be moved up to sterilizing all the medical equipment, which would seem terrible to anyone else, but at least you’d be in proximity to anything remotely “medical”. You were longing to get your hands dirty, to start real field experience, to learn how to heal. You wanted to help people, to help anyone in need. You wanted to learn the practices for saving someone’s life. Everything you wanted, you could not get if you were stuck in the archives with paperwork as your only companion. 

You decided within your first month that you would not let the paperwork and lack of real purpose get to you. So, you made your situation better by wearing - to the best of your ability - a positive attitude. On the day that marked the end of your first month here, the Kaminoans told you that music can be played in the archives as long as it’s not too loud, so you brought in a small radio the very next day. The start of your second month was a little better than the day before. You hummed to the music playing on the radio as you tried to make a game out of filing the paperwork. Turns out, not even a simple game could be made out of something so boring and tedious as filing paperwork.

You lost count of the days you’ve been in Tipoca City, within the archives shelled by the stilted dome structures, after your second month. Every day was exactly the same; you filed and shredded paperwork, organized reports, and finished filling out medical reports that the Kaminoan doctors didn't even want to bother with. Every day you woke up early, headed to the archives, and spent your entire day there in solitude until it was time to head back to your quarters for the night. Lunch was always dropped off to you by a couple of guards from the Kamino Security Team. The guards were always in full grey and white armor but you already knew what they looked like; they were clones, and you’ve seen their face in every file. They were handsome, sure, but there were literally hundreds of thousands of them out there. 

You were pretty sure you were coming up on month six of your monotonous internship. Waking up and getting ready was a routine ingrained in your bones. You were taking the regular route to the archives from your quarters when you were stopped by a couple Kaminoan doctors on the way. To your surprise, they asked you to follow them, which you were hoping translated to you not having to work in the archives anymore. Maybe month six was the lucky number.

You walked behind the tall and slender creatures through unfamiliar halls. You had no idea where you were following them to, but anywhere was better than where you were originally heading. 

They kept walking, with you in tow, when you passed by the only Jedi you’ve ever really spoken to - Master Shaak Ti, a calm and collected Togruta who was known to have a soft spot for the clones here on Kamino. The Jedi nodded in greeting to the Kaminoans in front of you, then over at you. With no words spoken, you were now following the Jedi through the halls, still unsure of the destination. 

Just around the corner, you saw two very decorated troopers coming towards you. They donned blue and white armor with a ton of other accessories. As they got closer, the one trooper removed his helmet and carried it at his side. This trooper had the usual dark brown hair and kept the common clone cut style. The way this clone walked with his helmet pressed to his hip had awoken something in you, though you couldn't put your finger on exactly what that something was.

“General Shaak Ti.” The other clone removed his helmet as he greeted the Jedi. He was blonde and sported a closely shaved cut; despite having the same face and body, the two clone troopers looked completely different. They were unlike any clones you’ve ever seen.

That’s when you noticed another trooper laying on a stretcher behind them; his hair was long enough to be worn in a bun, a tear drop was inked underneath one of his closed eyes. He was also unlike any clone you’ve ever seen - especially since he appeared to be unconscious, He was hooked up to oxygen, you also noticed, as two guards pushed his floating stretcher right by you and around the corner, out of sight once they went down the hall.

You realized how zoned out you were and quickly snapped back to reality - only for only a second, though - as you became transfixed on the clone in front of you on the right, the one with dark hair. You scanned his features a little more now that he was closer; he had a dark goatee that framed his chin and his right temple had the number “5″ inked on the skin. His armor was crazy different from the armor the guards here wore. He looked... good. Uh oh. 

For just a brief moment, the “good looking” trooper’s eyes broke away from his conversation with the Jedi and met yours. Slightly embarrassed, you snapped your head forward and glued your eyes to the Kaminoan’s ankles in front of you.

Just as you started listening in on the conversation, the two clones, the Jedi General, and Dr. Nala Se broke away and turned the corner in the same direction they took the unconscious trooper.

Kriff. You missed the entire conversation. The Kaminoans started moving forward, and you assumed you were still supposed to follow them, so you did. You still had no clue where you were going, but you’ll get there eventually. 

***

Fives’ POV

Fives walked to the left of Rex, a long-neck doctor in between them, while Tup’s unconscious body was guided by two Kamino guards behind them. 

“You will have to say goodbye to your friend now.” The long-neck broke the silence. Fives was worried for his friend. No one, not even Kix, could figure out what was wrong with him. Why would Tup shoot and kill General Tiplar? Fives noticed Tup was acting somewhat strange right before it all happened, but didn’t think too much of it at the time, Now, he’s racking his brain, trying to understand what set Tup off. He’s a good soldier, a good man. He’d never do such a thing in his right mind. 

It was suggested that Tup be sent to Tipoca City, to Kamino, back to his roots, for a better chance of figuring out what was wrong with him. Fives gladly accepted the offer to escort his friend there, and was overjoyed that Rex came along with them.

General Shaak Ti came into view, and the troopers came to a halt. Captain Rex greeted the General, and she turned her attention over to Fives.

“Fives, am I correct?” He nodded. Tup was being pushed from behind them and then around the corner in front of them, quickly going out of view. The General spoke again, her eyes glued on the unconscious trooper being led down the hall. “You’ve served with Tup?”

Fives was desperate to be by his friend’s side right now. “Yes.”

Then he saw you. You, a foreign species to Kamino. What were you doing here? It had been a while since Fives was last on Kamino, but he was sure there weren’t any others like you here before unless they were Jedi - but the only Jedi known to hang around Kamino was General Shaak Ti.

He had noticed you tailing the long-necks before you had even come entirely into view. Fives let his eyes flicker over to you as Tup was being taken away, only to have locked eyes with you for but a second. He noticed you blushed right before you snapped your head forward, obviously embarrassed that you’d been caught staring. General Shaak Ti’s voice broke Fives’ trance - didn’t even notice he was losing focus once he caught your eyes - and it was all over in less than five seconds. 

“You must come with me.” 

Fives quickly snapped his attention back to General Shaak Ti, “with... all due respect, General, I can’t just abandon him now.” The Jedi General smiled reassuringly, and turned to lead Fives and Rex down the hall in the same direction Tup was taken. 

Fives knew where his undivided attention should be, and that was on Tup - his friend - his friend that for some reason just gunned down a Jedi in the heat of battle in the space station just outside of Ringo Vinda, only to come to with no memory of what he had done. Fives cursed himself for thinking of you when his friend was about to be strapped to an exam table, being poked and prodded like some kind of lab scurrier. 

***

Renna’s POV

Dr. Nala Se, the Chief Medical Scientist on Kamino, approached you once you had gotten to the head medical lab and informed you that you’d be the one who would start procedures on a clone trooper who had potentially been exposed to a virus of some kind. You nodded, all too giddy as you gladly accepted the task.

You were escorted by two guards to where you’d be working with the patient. When the door whisked open, you slowly made your way into the quiet room, the door shutting quickly behind you. You glanced to the right, noticing the window that would normally allow you to see into the room next door was blacked out - put into the privacy setting. Strange. 

“You?” The deep voice - a voice that sounded like honey in your ears - put a halt on your thoughts about the darkened window. You knew it was the voice of a clone; the only voices you ever heard were either the slow, drawn out words of the Kaminoans or the clones’. Of course a clone would be in that room, of course a clone would be the subject of your testing.

Who you didn’t expect to see was the clone trooper you saw in passing not even a half hour ago - the one with the dark goatee and number 5 tattooed on his temple - the one who made you blush when he caught you staring. 

You felt yet another blush heat your cheeks before you even registered it was happening. What the hell were you blushing for? He’s a clone, and you’re here to take blood samples and body scans to make sure he’s okay. You knew you were staring at him like a fool, and for way too long. You shook your head slightly in an attempt to reorganize your thoughts. 

“You ok, Miss... miss?” He stood up from his seating position on the cot, and cocked his head to the side with his arms folded across his chest. You nodded your head slowly.

“Renna,” you nearly whispered your name to him - the words almost came out choked - for some reason you had forgotten how to speak in Basic for a moment. 

“Look, Miss Renna, I am not a threat. Neither is Tup.” 

Your brow raised as you studied the clone’s expression. It was hard; his eyes were piercing and his brows were furrowed. Crossed arms flew to his sides, hands tightening into fists. No doubt he was feeling angry and confused.

“T- Tup?” Was that the name of CT-5385? “You’re referring to CT-5385?”

“Tup! The trooper in that room right there?” He pointed over to the darkened window, “He’s a good soldier, my friend, and he’s in the room next door getting - getting tortured by those long-necks.” A beat. “None of us clones go by numbers anymore, by the way.” You closed your eyes for just a moment, trying to think about what to say next. You inhaled deep through your nose, then slowly out through parted lips, watching as his expression went from angry to more... afraid? Worried?

“Trooper, I promise Tup is in good hands. I’ve been briefed on his- his condition... they - we - just want to find out what made him kill Jedi General Tiplar, that’s all. They’ve asked me to do a couple of procedures on you, take some notes, since you were close with Tup. Maybe we can find something in you that will help your friend.” 

The trooper’s expression changed again, softening as his fists unclenched at his sides. Surely he had to understand the gravity of the situation; when you were briefed, it was mentioned that no one on Kamino had any idea why CT-53 - Tup - shot a Jedi General in cold blood, or why he keeps floating in and out of consciousness, murmuring things like “kill Jedi”. Clone trooper Tup seemed to have no memory of what he had done; and so far, no scans were showing anything wrong with him, though his health was deteriorating.

You walked over to the counter where the sterilized needles and scanners resided and started to prep the equipment, reading over notes to see what it is you needed and what you were supposed to be testing him for. Reading through the notes, you realized this trooper’s designation was ARC-5555, and the tattoo “5″ on his temple made sense now. It was actually kind of... cute.

It was silent for a couple minutes while you were getting everything ready when a loud, airy sigh coming from behind you made you turn around to face ARC-5555.

“The name’s Fives.”

***

Fives’ POV

Fives was getting more worried for Tup by the minute. His rising frustration didn’t help, either. General Shaak Ti had engaged the privacy setting on Fives’ only view of his unconscious friend, leaving him in the dark as to what the long-necks were doing to Tup in the room next door. 

Fives sat in the room in silence, alone with his worries and doubts. You were out of his thoughts at this point; the worry and fear he felt for Tup swallowed him whole - until you were the one walking through the door. It could have been any Kaminoan, any droid, yet you were the one they had sent. 

His eyes wide, he watched you slowly walk in as you immediately set your attention to the darkened window to the right side of the room. Fives wanted to know if you knew what they were doing to Tup, why they were hurting him, why Fives wasn’t able to be there by his side. He had a million questions, almost all of them relating to Tup, except for the ones he had about you. 

Fives was sitting on a cot on the other side of the room, and you hadn’t noticed him yet. What is she doing here? Who is she? She definitely isn’t a long-neck. He wanted to ask you all kinds of questions, a mix between wanting to know more about Tup and wanting to know more about you, but all he could muscle out was one word. 

“You?” Fives shook his head in disbelief as the first word he said to you left his lips. It did manage to get your attention, though, because you turned away from the dark window and were now staring directly at him. Fives felt his heart beat just a little harder when he could finally take in your whole figure in more than just a quick glance. You were beautiful - more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen, and wearing the same thing he saw you in earlier; a tucked-in dark grey skin-tight top that came up your neck like clone under-armor blacks did, a white lab coat that came down to your ankles, hugging your curves in all the right ways along the way. The coat was open in the front, save for the one buttoned part right at your waist, just barely keeping the coat together. Your black boots were knee-high, your black leggings tucked into them. You stepped closer to Fives and his heart started racing; he was completely in awe of you, but there was something else, and it made warmth head straight to his groin.

***

Renna’s POV

Fives. That was his name. Not ARC-5555 , just like Tup wasn’t CT-5385. “No clones go by numbers anymore,” he had informed you. Being waist-deep in paperwork all the time never gave you an opportunity to actually work with the clones. All you knew about the clones were their designations, along with whatever the paperwork was filed for. It didn’t occur to you that they had names. 

“Look, is Tup gonna be alright? Have they found anything out?” Fives’ eyes were pleading, begging for some kind of reassurance. 

“Please, sit down.” He huffed, but obeyed. “We’re using hyper level tests, so we should get the results fairly quickly.” He nodded his head, thankful for any little crumb you could give him. “I’m gonna need to get started now, okay?”

Needle in hand and ready to go, you preemptively apologized. 

“Wh- ow!” You jabbed the needle into the side of his neck, a sympathetic smile on your lips. 

“I said I was sorry!” You chuckled quietly. Fives rubbed at his neck and you made you way back over to the counter, inserting the needle into the port next to the computer. 

“Well?” His hand still rubbing at his neck, you squinted your eyes to read the results displayed on the screen. 

“Everything... seems normal.” You weren’t exactly sure what to expect, but you were happy your very first patient wasn’t immediately dying on you.

“Oh, great! That means you can let me out, right?” The excited tone in his voice made it quite difficult to relay the next part to him.

With an apologetic smile, you walked back over and sat on the cot across from him.

“Actually... I’m afraid that’s not possible right now, Fives. I was instructed to keep you in quarantine until we’ve pinpointed the exact cause of Tup’s breakdown. We can’t risk any further casualties.” You couldn't bear to look at him now, so you glued your eyes to a fresh scuff mark on the toe of your boot.

“Like I told you before, I am not a threat, and neither is Tup!” You looked back up at him when his voice raised. Fives wasn’t angry, or at least it didn’t appear that way. He was worried for his friend. 

“I- I believe you, Fives. Unfortunately, I’m not the one to make those kinds of calls. I’m just- just an intern. This is my first day not filing paperwork in the archives. I don’t- I don’t want to mess this up. You’re my first real patient.” You stood up to leave the room, letting your hand rest on his shoulder for just a moment in an attempt to comfort him. Something you never thought you’d be doing - comforting a clone. You told him you’d be back later to check up on him and to perform any tests the doctors deemed necessary. Then you left.

***

As you headed for your quarters for the night, you couldn’t help but think back on your introductory meeting with your very first patient. You replayed your short conversation over and over in your head; you transfixed on his voice, the raw emotion in it that went straight to his facial expressions, and the way he looked at you. You’ve seen his face many, many times in the files you were doused with daily, but most of the clones on Kamino didn’t have anything significant to mark them apart from one another - no scars, tattoos, different hair styles, and were generally clean-shaven. When you first saw Fives, his tattoo and facial hair was what did it for you. You hated to admit it, but you may have just accidentally gotten a crush on the ARC Trooper.

This was all new to you. You never realized clones had such... emotion. Or capable of such emotion, for that matter. You were kept in the dark for the entirety of your internship on Kamino, and now you understood why. You weren’t Kaminoan, you weren’t a Jedi, you were just an intern. In their eyes, there was no reason as to why you should engage the clones, so they kept you busy with paperwork every day. You wondered if you were physically kept away from the clones because you were also human, and therefore were able to share the same emotion and ideals as them. That idea wouldn’t have made sense to you if you thought about it earlier today, but now that you met Fives, it made sense.

Maybe the Kaminoans were fearful that you would be a distraction to them, or them to you. 

***

Tags: @bvcketfvcker @deewithani @chromia7567

[after-avenging-hours]

Out of Time [6]: Steve x Reader

Series Masterlist with dates on chapter releases - tag list will not be used for this series

Summary:  After Steve gets injected with a mysterious substance during a mission gone wrong, you come to find out that the only thing that can save his life is a pure sample of Dr. Erskine’s Super Soldier Serum. Unwilling to let the love of your life die without a fighting chance, you travel through the quantum realm back to 1943. Equipped with little more than your knowledge of past events, you have to figure out just how exactly you’re going to get your hands on that serum. Not only that, but with the infinity stones no longer protecting the reality you’ve come from, there is now a chance that your presence in the past can change the future you’ll return to. Can you succeed without messing things up? And if things go wrong, can you fix it before it’s too late? Or will you run out of time…

Word Count: 6761

Warnings: This part contains smut, Steve is a virgin for obvious reasons, Explicit themes (18+)

The next morning, you meet up with Dr. Erskine first thing to go over the plan for the day, along with Colonel Phillips. The Colonel then calls for a vehicle escort to take you all to where Agent Carter is getting the recruits initiated. The vehicle pulls up just in time for you to see her fist flying into one of the recruit’s face.

You scoff out a laugh, wondering what exactly that guy did to piss her off.

“Agent Carter, I can see that you’re breaking in the candidates. That’s good,” Colonel Phillips announces as he approaches the group. He then proceeds to order the soldier the get himself back up.

You stand next to Dr. Erskine and sweep your eyes over the group. You catch Steve’s gaze for a brief moment before he looks straight ahead at attention. You have to glance down at your clipboard to help fight off your smile.

The Colonel begins to pace in front of the recruits and gives his introductory speech. “We are going to win this war because we have the best… men,” he falters when he pauses and glances over at Steve. He turns to shoot Dr. Erskine with a look. The Doctor has to look away to keep his face neutral. “And because they are going to get better,” the Colonel resumes his pacing. “Much better.”

He continues to explain to the men what exactly they have signed up for. An opportunity to become the man that will lead the Allied forces into winning the war. A man who will be the first in a new breed of Super Soldiers. A man who will personally bring Adolph Hitler to the gates of Hell.

“We will be testing you in just about every aspect you can think of. Strength, endurance, agility, cognition, aptitude... By the end of this week, we will know you better than you know yourselves. You are on the clock from now until we’ve made our decision next Monday. You will follow every single order, explicitly as it is given to you. We tell you to jump, just do it, don’t bother asking how high. We will tell you when to eat. We will tell you when to sleep. Am I making myself perfectly clear?”

“Sir, yes, Sir!” all of the recruits shout simultaneously.

“Sergeant Duffy, you can take it from here,” the Colonel relinquishes control of the recruits to the Drill Sergeant.

“Alright, men! Step into formation!” He orders. “First up is the ropes course! Ready! March!”

You follow after the group, along with Agent Carter. You take notes on the performance and times of each recruit as they complete the course. You bite your lips and cringe inwardly when Steve barely makes it halfway up the rope wall before losing steam. It breaks your heart to have to check the incomplete box next to his name on the paperwork, but you know if you don’t accurately report what’s happening, it will raise several questions with the others.

This is just the beginning of a very long and challenging week. Every day the men are up before dawn, they have 30 minutes to eat breakfast, then they’re jumping right into the next test. Steve’s differences from the others quickly paint a target on his back. One of the recruits, Hodge, the one that Peggy punched on the first day, seems to have a vendetta against him.

You witness Hodge kicking out one of the posts of the barbed wire crawling course, forcing the wires to collapse directly on top of Steve, pinning him down. Sergeant Duffy was quick to put Steve to blame, but you happily wrote a mark against Hodge on his form. You’d definitely be reporting this back to Erskine.

Steve struggles for a few minutes but is eventually able to work himself loose and crawls out of the remainder of the course. You frown when you notice the back of his uniform is cut in several spots. You’re pretty sure you even saw a flash of red.

Later on, the men are given an hour for lunch. As the rest of the group heads for the mess hall, you watch Steve diverge off to the barracks. You rush to your room to grab your first aid kit. You step back out of the officer quarters at the same time he’s leaving the barracks, dressed in a different uniform. You release a quick whistle to catch his attention before jerking your head to the side to indicate he should follow you.

He looks around to make sure no one else has witnessed the interaction before walking over. You take him around the back of the building before ducking behind a series of large crates. “Vic, what are you doing? We’re going to get in trouble,” Steve whispers.

“Sit down and take your shirt off,” you instruct, kneeling on the ground to open your first aid kit.

“There’s no need for that. I’m fine,” he huffs stubbornly.

You fix him with a pointed look. “Steve, the sooner you stop arguing with me, the sooner we’ll be done, and then the less likely we’ll be caught.”

He stares back for a moment before giving in with a dejected sigh. He looks around once more before ducking behind the creates, too. He starts unbuttoning his uniform and turns around to sit cross-legged with his back toward you. Once the shirt is off, you hiss at the sight of the cuts on his back. Most aren’t too bad, but there’s one going across his right shoulder blade that’s deeper than the rest.

“You and I have very different meanings for the term fine,” you scoff.

“It’s really not that bad. Just hurts when I, you know, move…”

You breathe out a laugh, shaking your head at him. There’s that stubborn jerk you know and love. Leaning forward, you press your lips to the back of his neck. He turns his head slightly to glance at you over his shoulder.

“What was that for?”

You smile, “A distraction from the pain.”

He releases a low hum before turning his head back. You disinfect your hands before reaching out to inspect the deeper cut. You prod gently at the skin around the cut. Luckily, it’s not quite as deep as you originally feared and it won’t need stitches.

“This is going to sting,” you warn as you rip open a disinfectant wipe packet. You dab as gently as you can to the cut, but Steve still releases a harsh breath.

“Think I could maybe use another distraction,” he comments, his voice tight.

You oblige with a kiss to the top of his shoulder. Once you’re satisfied that you’ve cleaned up the cut, you pull out your healing spray from Shuri. “This will feel a little cold at first, but then it will start to numb the pain,” you explain before spraying over the wound. You tape a piece of gauze over the cut to keep it protected before moving onto the smaller cuts.

As the gel begins to take effect, the tension in Steve’s shoulders begins to ease. Your concentration breaks when he releases a long sigh. “Vic, what the hell am I doing here?” he asks, sounding dejected.

“You earned your spot, Steve. Same as the rest of them.”

He scoffs dryly. “But I’m nothing like the rest of them.”

“That’s a good thing!” you insist. “Steve, you know that this isn’t just about who’s tallest, fastest, or strongest. Your strengths are up here,” you tap at his temple. “Find a way to use that to your advantage.”

“Can’t exactly think my way out of a push-up…” He sighs, looking off into the distance. “I’m just so tired.”

You’re not surprised. He’s pushing his body past its limits. “I know,” you scratch comfortingly at the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “But it’s just a few more days. I know that you can do this.”

The scratch of your nails on his scalp helps to relax him. “Thanks, Vic. It’s nice knowing there’s someone here that’s on my side.” He looks over his shoulder to meet your gaze once again.

“I’m always on your side. Even when you’re being a stubborn jerk.” You smirk humorously.

He chuckles quietly and lets you finish bandaging him up. The rest of the cuts don’t need as much attention, just a quick spray of the healing gel before covering them with a few bandages, so the gel won’t rub off on his uniform.

“Okay, you’re done,” you tell him, so he can put his uniform shirt back on as you pack up your kit and collect the trash.

He slips the shirt over his shoulders but leaves it unbuttoned as he turns to face you, sitting on his knees. “Can I get one last distraction?”

When you lift your gaze to catch his, he taps a finger to his bottom lip, right where he’s giving you a goofy grin. You match the grin with one of your own before leaning forward on your hands and knees. You tilt your head and press your lips to his. As much as you want to give in to the kiss and spend the whole afternoon with him tucked behind these crates, you know it won’t be long before someone comes looking for the two of you. If you’re caught together it would immediately disqualify Steve from the program, so you keep things short.

Pulling back, you blink your eyes open. Steve’s face looks more relaxed than it has his entire time here. You smile at him encouragingly, “Go show ‘em what you’re made of, Rogers.”

Darting forward, he places one last peck against your lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

He finishes buttoning up his shirt and stands. He looks around to make sure the coast is clear before reaching a hand down to help you to your feet. You have him go first then wait a minute before stepping out from behind the crates and make your way back to your room to put away your first aid kit.

-

Dr. Erskine grabs you during breakfast the next morning to go over the progress on the recruits so far. While you’re in your meeting with him, the recruits are taken on their endurance run around the entire camp. It will take the full morning to complete the round trip. You can’t help but be worried about Steve, especially since you’re not there to watch out for him.

You step back outside to meet up with the recruits at the same time that they are returning from their run. You feel dread pooling deep in your gut when you see Steve sitting in the back of the escort vehicle. As you hurry your approach, you find that he doesn’t appear to be injured. In fact, he looks rather content. Maybe even a little smug.

The vehicle comes to a stop, along with the rest of the recruits. Sergeant Duffy dismisses them to lunch, a rather sour look on his face as he holds a bundled green cloth in his arms. Steve hops out of the back of the truck, confirming your thought that he’s not injured.

“What happened?” you ask as he approaches.

“The Sergeant said that if anyone could bring him the flag at the halfway point, they’d get a ride back the rest of the way. I pulled the pins out of the bottom of the flagpole. Once the pole was on the ground, getting the flag was easy.” He shrugs casually.

You and Dr. Erskine share a look, trying to conceal your smiles to not show favoritism in front of the others.

“That is one way to do it,” Dr. Erskine tells him before you both let him continue to the mess hall for lunch.

The two of you then meet up with Agent Carter to get her notes on the recruits after their run.

By the end of the week, Steve has found a few other areas to shine through. Every time you give Dr. Erskine your reports, you can tell that it’s only helping to affirm his feelings on picking Steve for Project Rebirth. You’re currently watching the recruits running through their afternoon exercises, with Agent Carter leading them through a round of push-ups. Your attention is momentarily pulled away from the group when Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips walk up, arguing over Erskine’s apparent choice to pick Steve.

“You don’t win wars with niceness, Doctor,” the Colonel huffs and digs through a weapons create in the back of one of the military trucks. He pulls something out of one of the creates that you can’t quite make out from your position. “You win wars with guts.” In the next second, he tosses the object into the group of recruits. “Grenade!” he shouts and your heart completely stops.

You’re about to dart into the fray as the recruits completely scatter, but then you notice one individual jumping directly onto the grenade. “Get away!” Steve screams, huddling over the explosive device. “Get back!”

Time seems to come to a complete stop as you think that this is the moment you’re going to watch him die. A full second passes, then another. As time seems to start moving once more at a normal pace, you realize that the grenade never went off. Everyone else seems to come to this conclusion at the same time and Steve begins to push himself out of his huddled position.

“It was a dummy grenade,” one of the other soldiers announce and everyone begins to collect themselves. “All clear.”

You find yourself releasing the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

Steve looks around in confusion. “Is this a test?” he asks.

You look over to Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips to find the two in a staring match. “He’s still skinny,” the Colonel mutters before walking around the doctor and heads off. Erskine watches his movements, trying to hold back a smile of amusement. Once the Colonel is out of sight, he gives that smile to Steve

-

It’s your last night at Camp Lehigh and you can’t even pretend to fall asleep. You should feel relief, knowing that Steve was successful in getting chosen for Project Rebirth. And a part of you is. But this means that tomorrow is your last day here in this time. Tomorrow is the whole reason you even ventured back into 1943. Tomorrow is your one shot at getting the serum. Tomorrow… you go home.

Unable to stand one more second laying still in your bed, you push yourself up and move the blankets off your legs. Peggy is fast asleep in her own cot, but she’s a light sleeper, so you try not to make too much noise as you slip out of bed. You grab your silk robe to throw over your nightgown once you’ve stepped out of the room. You twist the knob of the door as you carefully pull it shut, so it won’t click. You then walk barefoot out of the Officer Quarters and make your way over to the barracks. As you approach the main door, you pause when it opens on its own.

Dr. Erskine steps out, and he catches you standing there. He chuckles quietly, holding the door open for you. “Don’t keep him up too late.”

An embarrassed smile crosses your face. “I won’t, Doctor.” You slip inside before the door shuts behind you.

Steve is sitting on the side of his cot, with his back toward the door. He looks over his shoulder as you approach, quickly standing to his feet when he sees it’s you. “Vic!”

As soon as he’s within reach, your hands dart out to yank him close. You wrap your arms around his chest and bury your face into his neck, holding him tight. He stiffens at first, before relaxing into your hold.

“Is this my congratulations?” he asks with a gentle laugh.

“This is because you jumped on top of a grenade, like an idiot, and scared me half to death!” You squeeze him a little tighter. “I need to know that you’re okay,” you mumble against the side of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, wrapping his arms around your waist.

When you feel the comfort of his nearness beginning to seep into you, you lean back and unwrap an arm to hold the side of his face. “This is your congratulations,” you say before placing your lips over his.

His arms tighten around your waist as he kisses back eagerly. “God, I missed having you so close,” he whispers against your lips.

Instead of his words causing you comfort, they hit you with a cold dose of reality. You pull back with a snap, your breath hitching.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, looking at you with concern.

You feel the pain in your chest like a knife to your heart, and you’re sure it’s plain to see on your face. “Steve, there’s something I need to tell you,” you confess.

His eyes become cautious and guarded. “What is it?”

You release a shaky breath, feeling the tears already beginning to well in your eyes. “After the procedure tomorrow… I have to go away.”

“Go away?” he repeats, brows furrowing. “You’re getting reassigned?”

“I-” you start before cutting yourself off. You know you can’t tell him the full truth. He wouldn’t understand. “Yes,” you force out. “I’m getting reassigned.”

His gaze flickers between yours, trying to get a read on anything that you can give him. “Well, where to? Maybe I can get assigned there also.”

You shake your head, your lips trembling as you attempt to fight off your tears. “No, you can’t. It’s something I have to do alone.”

He looks like he still doesn’t understand. “So, what does that mean for us?”

You exhale sharply, looking up as a last-ditch effort to keep the tears from falling. “It means we won’t see each other again.”

“Ever?”

All of your efforts begin to fail when your gaze drops to his once more and you see the look on his face. He looks absolutely heartbroken. You feel that knife in your chest dig a little deeper. “Not for a long time.”

He watches as you begin to fall apart in his arms, but he just can’t accept it. Steve Rogers never gives up on anything. “No, we can find a way to make it work. I’ll talk with Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips after the procedure. If it works, they’ll have to say yes, right? And even if they say no, we can still write letters to each other. This doesn’t have to be-”

“Steve,” you cut in. You can’t allow him to get his hopes us. “This is our last night.”

His breaths come in quick like he’s gearing up for a fight, but when he sees the raw pain in your eyes, he knows that now isn’t the time for arguing. Maybe he can change your mind before tomorrow. Maybe he can’t. If this truly is the end… “Then, let’s make the most of it.”

His hands cradle your cheeks before he pulls your face against his. He’s in complete control of this kiss and you are more than happy to submit to him. You’re not sure where this sudden burst of confidence has come from, but you are reveling in it. His hands slip from your cheeks, down your neck, and over your shoulders. He pushes against your robe until it’s falling to the floor.

The two of you stumble over to his cot, not wanting to part, as your hands roam over each other’s bodies. Your hands slip beneath his white SSR t-shirt before they crawl up his stomach. He releases you just long enough to tuck his dog tags inside the shirt before he helps you pull it off. He sits in the middle of the mattress and you crawl to sit on his lap, your nightgown bunching up at your thighs.

You hover over him, hands on his shoulders as you barely skim your lips against his. He stretches his neck up as you tease, trying to get more from you. Your lips split into a grin before your tongue darts out to swipe straight up the middle of his mouth. His hands shake when they grip your hips.

“Have you done this before?” he asks breathlessly.

You stop your movements and pull back to meet his gaze. “I have,” you confirm. “Does that bother you?”

He shakes his head fervently. “Oh, no,” he insists, squeezing your hips a little tighter. “As long as it doesn’t bother you that I haven’t…” He drops his gaze for a moment.

Your lips spread into a sweet smile and you run your fingers through his hair, lifting his gaze back up. “That doesn’t bother me at all, Steve,” you assure him.

He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, and you can tell he has more to say, so you wait patiently for him. “Bucky once told me that sometimes women don’t feel pleasure if you don’t do it right.” He pauses, looking at you with concern. “Will you teach me?”

You look at him with so much tender affection, he can feel it in his soul. “Of course.” You settle yourself a little more comfortably over his lap, with your knees framing his hips. “Just start by touching me.”

He glances down at where his hands rest at your hips, then his eyes travel back up the length of your body. “Where?” he questions.

“Everywhere.” Leaning back down, you capture his lips and kiss him fiercely.

His hands seem to take on a life of their own. They trail up your sides, exploring your curves so delicately, one would think you were made a glass. They skim just past the edge of your breasts, not quite brave enough to venture there quite yet. He traces the dip of your collar bone and the bend of your shoulders. As you continue to mold your mouth to his, he uses the touch of his fingers to paint the image of your body in his mind.

His hands then skim down your back, fingers spread wide so as not to miss a single inch. They come to a stop just below the curve of your lower back. Pulling out of your kiss, you breathe heavily as you catch his hooded gaze. Releasing his shoulders, you reach back and grip each of his wrists. Continuing to hold his gaze, you push his hands down even further until they are well and truly settled over the globes of your ass.

Steve’s breath hitches and his pupils dilate completely. He may not realize it yet, but you know your man has a thing for your ass. You grin deviously when you feel his hands squeeze. You rock your hips encouragingly, rubbing up on the erection that’s begun forming in his pants. He grunts in surprise at the sensations running through him and he squeezes your ass again. He feels like his heart is about to beat right out of his chest, it’s pounding so hard.

Wanting to touch even more of you, Steve’s hands glide down your thighs and slip under the hem of your satin nightgown. He moves at a pace slower than a snail as he moves back up your legs. His fingertips brush the curve of your ass once more, and when he expects to feel cloth again, he finds nothing but skin. His lips part in shock. “You’re not wearing underwear…” he realizes.

You can’t help the short giggle that slips out. “No, I’m not,” you confirm.

He swallows thickly, trying to process that information. “Do you do that a lot?” he questions, wondering how many nights you’ve shared a bed together like this.

“Sometimes,” you respond cryptically.

He releases a shaky breath, “Oh God, I’m going to hell for this.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. “Well, then we can go together.”

“Can…” his mouth has gone dry and his voice cracks. He has to clear his throat to try again. “Can I see you?”

“You can if you take off my nightgown,” you grin cheekily.

He fumbles a little, getting the satin material up to your waist. You help him remove the gown and let it fall to the floor. And suddenly Steve has a very naked woman sitting over him. After a quick glance over you, he quickly realizes that he could spend hours looking over your body and would never grow bored. He could explore you as he would an art museum. Looking for every single minuscule little detail within the great masterpiece. Lose himself in the curve of your hip, or the swell of your breasts, or between your thighs.

You notice where his gaze drops to and recognize the curious interest in his eyes. You take one of his hands back in yours and slowly bring it to the junction of your thighs. His fingers slide over your folds and he inhales sharply.

“You’re wet…” he surmises.

“I am,” you confirm with a laugh.

His fingers do a little exploring over the area. “Are women always wet like this?”

“No, not like this. It’s mostly just during arousal. It helps to act as a natural lubricant,” you attempt to explain while he’s got his hands on you.

“Where do I… go in?” he questions, his face flushing. He feels like he’s failing in class. Isn’t there some sort of primal instinct that’s supposed to kick in or something?

You smile in understanding and guide him to where he needs to be. “Just press gently,” you encourage. He does as you’ve instructed and slowly, his finger pushes in. Your lips part and you release the sweetest little mewl as your body welcomes him. “Add a second finger,” you urge, more than ready for the satisfying stretch your body has been craving from the moment of arousal.

It’s been a while since you’ve gone this long without sex. Especially since you’d been on that recon mission with the team for several weeks even before coming to 1943. Your body was begging for a little action. You have a brief flicker of thought on whether or not this is technically considered cheating, but then Steve flicks his fingers experimentally, hitting your g-spot, and all other thought promptly falls straight out of your head.

“Oh, right there! Steve, touch me right there!”

Steve doesn’t know if he should be watching what he’s doing with his hand or if he can just stare at your face. You’re absolutely breathtaking. Neck stretched, lips parted, eyes closed. You’re a picture of pure bliss. Your hips begin to rock against his fingers as your body tries to chase after its first orgasm. Reaching down for his hand once more, you position his thumb over your aching clit.

“Rub that in little circles.” You’re growing more and more breathless the longer he plays with you. The sounds coming out of you are so sweet, Steve can nearly taste the sugar in the air. You try not to be too loud, knowing there’s night patrol walking around the camp and you don’t want to call their attention. “Oh, Steve. That-” your voice drops with a sharp exhale. “That feels so good.”

Your hips stutter against his touch and your breasts heave with every breath. Steve is mesmerized by you. He’s not sure what drives him to do it, be it that instinct finally kicking in, or purely an insatiable need, but he leans forward and takes one of your breasts into his mouth. This must be the correct move because the sound that rips out of you shoots straight to his throbbing cock. Your hands dive into his hair, tugging and gripping at the strands, but also keeping him close and encouraging him.

Steve does his best to divide his attention, keeping his hand moving between your legs while he mouths at your breast. He tries to keep his teeth out of the equation, unsure if that will hurt you. He sucks your nipple into his mouth and laves his tongue over the hardened bud. His other hand reaches back down to grab at your ass once more. He uses that hand as leverage to keep you close and encourage the way you rock into his probing fingers.

“Oh yes! Right there, Steve! Don’t stop!”

He’s not entirely sure which area you’re referring to, so he keeps up with it all. He sucks even harder on your breast, circling his tongue around the sensitive bud. His hand between your legs is beginning to grow tired, but he doesn’t dare stop, and he continues to squeeze and push the globe of your ass.

Your voice continues to rise in pitch the closer you get to your peak. “Oh my God! Oh, Steve! Yes! Yes!” And suddenly, your body is tensing above him and your walls spasm around his fingers. Your climax hits you like a splash of paint on a blank canvas. You’re seeing all sorts of colors and swirls behind your closed eyelids. You hold onto him tight, afraid that if you let go, you’ll get whisked away.

He pulls away from your breast, not wanting to miss the sight of your euphoria, but he continues the movement of his hands. His fingers are pushed in deep, stroking at your quivering walls and thumbing at your clit. Your entire body shakes around him. Steve feels like he’s strung so tight that he may just join you with the barest hint of touch to his straining cock.

“Okay, okay,” you ease, gripping at his wrist as your body begins to come down from your high. He’s more than happy to keep going, but you’re going to go nuts from over-sensitivity if he keeps it up. “That was good,” you huff with a breathless laugh, guiding his hand to gently pull out from between your legs. “So good…” you drop your head unceremoniously to his shoulder, needing a second to collect yourself.

He feels your breath fan across his chest, sending tingles in its wake. “I didn’t kill you, right?” he asks jokingly.

You giggle breathlessly, lifting your head back up. “No. You were perfect.” Cupping his face in your hands, you slant your lips over his in a sloppy kiss and start to lean forward until Steve falls back against his pillow. Your mouth drags away from his, over the side of his jaw and down his neck.

“What are you doing now?” Steve asks as your lips ghost down the center of his chest.

You place a kiss just above his belly button before grinning up at him devilishly. “Now I’m going to do you.” Your fingers hook into the waistband of his pants, popping the top button and dragging down the zipper. In one move, you pull his pants and boxers off his legs, allowing them to join the remainder of your clothes on the floor. Steve’s cock is hard and ready for you, laying against his abdomen. He’s not as thick as you’re used to, but he’s definitely got more length than you were expecting. He’s also got a bit of an upward curve right now that seems to have gone away after the girth built up.

Your gaze flickers up to see that he’s watching you intently for your reaction. You give him just the barest hint of a smirk before you lean down and drag your tongue over him from base to tip. His lips part in a shaky breath and he throws his head back. You swipe over the very end of his tip, getting a taste of the pre-cum that’s dribbling out of his head. You wrap your fingers around his base to hold him steady before you take him into your mouth.

“Good God!” he cries out, hips jerking up and his back arching. He grips the bedsheets, his knuckles immediately turning white as he squeezes his eyes shut. He’s never felt anything like this before and he knows that it’s way too much. “Vic, honey, you gotta stop,” he begs despite the way his body thrusts up into your hot mouth. “I won’t last,” he shakes his head fervently, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tensing up.

Having mercy on him, you release him with a parting lick to the slit on his head. You keep your hand wrapped around him as you sit up on your knees and begin to get yourself into position above him. “Are you sure you want to do this?” you ask for his consent one last time before it becomes too late.

His eyes blink back open and meet yours before he nods. “Yes, I want this,” he confirms. “I want you, Vic.”

You smile sincerely and move to line him up with your entrance. His tip has just barely brushed against your slick folds when he jolts and tightly grips your hip.

“Wait! Wait,” he rushes, making you pause. You’re about to move off of him, but his grip holds you steady. “I’m not wearing a condom,” he tells you in a hurry before you’ll think he’s backing out. “I don’t even have one…”

Your muscles relax as you laugh lightly. “It’s okay. I have birth control.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “What is that?”

You realize too late that modern birth control hasn’t been invented yet. “Uhm… well, I have an IUD. It’s like a small device inside me that releases a certain type of hormone that prevents fertilization.”

“Oh,” he states simply, but wonders why he’s never heard of anything like that before. It certainly sounds handy. “And that’s effective?”

“Yes,” you smile in amusement. “So, can I…” you glance down to where you’re still holding him.

“Oh, yeah. Right. Go ahead.” His cheeks flare with embarrassment.

You giggle at his awkwardness. “You’re so adorable.”

He winces slightly at that, his cheeks only getting hotter. “Not exactly the words most men want to hear when you’ve got your hands on his penis.”

You laugh again and stroke his length in a comforting gesture. “Well, you’re not most men.” You settle back over him and align his tip against your entrance. “You’re my man.” With that said, you begin to sink down onto him. Your body welcomes every single inch that fills you until he’s pushed in to the hilt.

“Oh wow…” he breathes, hands gripping your hips even tighter.

“You okay?” you ask a little breathlessly, your body thrumming with sexual energy.

“Yeah…” he responds brokenly, trying to hang onto his last shred of control. He’s never felt anything like this before, there aren’t even enough words to describe what he’s feeling. Good is an understatement. Great is way off the mark. Euphoric might be close, but it still seems to fall short.

You give him a second to get used to the feeling of being inside you. Your fingers glide up his flat stomach and over the ridges of his ribcage. Sure, this body is smaller than you’re used to, but he’s definitely not as delicate as everyone has been made out to believe. This last week has certainly taught you that much. No matter what got thrown at him and no matter how hard he took a beating, Steve still managed to persevere. He picked himself back up and he kept moving forward. His inner strength somehow manages to shine brighter when he doesn’t have the muscles to back it up. Even though you’d been scared out of your mind when he jumped on that grenade, you’re also so incredibly proud of him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, causing your gaze to lift back up to meet his.

“Like what?” you question, wondering what he’s reading off your expression.

“Like I’m the only man in the whole world that matters.”

The love that you feel for him in your heart swells like a balloon. You lean forward, cupping his cheeks in your hands, and brush your nose against his. “Because you are,” your words caress his lips moments before you capture them.

You start to move your hips in slow circles, taking great pleasure in the way he twitches inside you. His hands squeeze your hips before they fall back down to your ass. He uses his grip as leverage to start rocking up into you. His movements are a little sloppy, more of a reaction rather than a coordinated effort. It feels good either way and you have to pull your lips back to release the delighted gasp that’s desperate to escape.

Your hands reach up to grip the metal bar from the bed frame as you find a rhythm to grind down against Steve’s gentle thrusts. His parted lips are swollen and red from your kisses as they release stunted gasps and heady grunts from deep within his chest. His heart is pounding so fast, he thinks it might just burst, but if this is the last thing he ever gets to experience before he dies, it will be well worth it.

“Can I go faster?” you ask with a needy whimper.

Steve thinks he may pass out, but because he’s a sucker for pain, he nods his head fervently. Your grip on the bed frame tightens and the muscles in your thighs quiver as you begin to bounce yourself on his cock. “Oh shit!” Steve’s eyes roll back as unimaginable pleasure sparks through him. Every time you slam down on his cock it sends a bolt of electricity licking up his spine. He brings his knees up and digs his heels into the mattress, so he can meet you thrust for thrust. Just about every muscle in his body is screaming in protest from this past week of hard training, but he pushes through the pain because the pleasure is way too good to stop now.

Your body pulls him in so deep, he feels like he’s going to fall into you. And maybe, he already has. These last two weeks he’s spent with you have felt like a dream. You dropped into his lap like a fallen angel and every moment since has been pure fantasy. You seem to embody everything he ever hoped he could get out of a partner. You saw him for the man he actually is, not the one you wished he could be. You treated his jagged and broken edges with gentle understanding and care, instead of choosing to throw him out with the trash like so many others had before.

You made him feel like a man capable of giving and receiving love and affection. You weren’t just a flickering candle in the dark. You were a bright, shining beacon, like a lighthouse in a storm. Your light chased away his insecurities and made him believe that he could do the impossible. He wanted to spend every day of the rest of his life basking in your radiance.

“Steve! Oh my- Oh!” Your back arches and your entire body quakes with the power of the orgasm that crashes through you.

The way you clamp around him has Steve seeing stars. Just a few more quick thrusts and he’s emptying himself into you. Your bodies quiver in tandem as your hold on the bed frame weakens before you collapse against his chest. You’re both sweaty and your skin sticks together, but neither of you seems to mind.

“That…” he starts, in between his heaving breaths. “Was pretty incredible.”

You release a tired giggle and attempt to move at least part of your weight off of him. There’s not much room to go anywhere on the tiny, single-person cot, though. His hands slide up from your ass, to curl around your waist, and he keeps you close. His cock, limp and satiated, slips out from your folds when you shift back, landing with a wet slap against his thigh. You can feel a dribble of his thick cum beginning to leak out from between your legs, but you are entirely too worn-out to do anything about it.

You’re already half asleep by the time Steve tries to coax you up enough to be able to peel back the blanket and sheets on the bed. You tuck your head under his chin and slide a knee between his legs, relishing in the feeling of getting to sleep in his arms one more time. Your sigh of content is the last thing Steve hears before he falls asleep.

Part 7