#I mean today my mental health wasn’t strong to begin with

[sandinthepipes]

Does the flag REALLY means death once again? Can’t it mean something else for just once? Why is the flag denied a fairytale ending even this time?

[moonlight-breeze-44]

Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompt Fill - "Disowned by Family"

Shelter From the Storm

When Gregorio comes out to her mother, the fallout leaves her falling back into old habits. Pride, however, is determined to remind her that she isn't alone in her struggles and that there are people that care about and love her just as she is right there in New Orleans. Sometimes, family doesn't have to be blood. Sometimes family can be found.

Pairings: None main; background PerSalle

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Self-harm, self-worth/esteem issues, general mental health issues, homophobia, disownment, blood/injury

Read on AO3

Gregorio knew it was only a matter of time before she had to make the phone call, but it didn’t mean getting the courage to dial her mother’s number and press call was any easier.

Now, alone in her apartment, she wished her heart would stop pounding into the beginnings of a panic attack and let her fucking breathe. Her hands were so clammy with sweat that she half-expected the phone to slip and fall to the ground. She wondered if maybe it would be better if it did. It would mean she didn’t have to face this.

Gregorio loved her mom, but that was half of the problem. Her mother could be old-fashioned, and Gregorio had been raised in the countryside of New York with two dogs, an old cat, and no father to speak of. In some ways, Gregorio was a lot more like LaSalle than she wanted to admit.

As she waited for Emily Gregorio to pick up her phone, Tammy paced; she was her mother’s only child, and if what she said today devastated her like she feared it would, she doubted there would be another chance for them. This stupid fucking phone call was going to define their entire relationship, and the fear was enough to make Tammy grab the chair in front of her for support, nails scrabbling for purchase along the worn fiber.

No turning back now.

“Tammy?” Her mother’s voice, pragmatic as always, filled Gregorio’s ears and she flinched. Maybe she wasn’t as ready for this as she thought. “What’s wrong?”

It was a response that most other people would consider harsh or brusque, but in reality, Emily was just being realistic; Tammy almost never called unless she was backed into a corner and needed something. Her mother never called unless someone had died. It was a routine that Tammy couldn’t bring herself to feel bad for, considering her mother’s part in it and the lack of warmth between them. But their lack of contact made what Tammy had to say even harder to reveal.

“Mom, I have something to tell you,” Tammy breathed, trying to keep her voice as steady and strong as she could while the panic rattled in her ribcage. She could do this. She had to.

“Oh my god, are you pregnant?” Emily exclaimed, and Tammy heard the blatant delight in her voice at the thought. She shook her head, even though she knew her mother couldn’t see her. This was going to make it even harder to burst her bubble. When the silence stretched on a beat too long, she rolled her shoulders, shaking them out, trying to calm her nerves.

“Uh, no, Mom, I’m not pregnant,” Tammy replied, heaving a deep breath. “I, uh…I-I’m…”

“You’re what, Tammy? Spit it out.”

“I’m gay,” Tammy burst out, chest heaving with having the pressure of her secret released. She felt herself begin to tremble and leaned more of her weight onto the old chair in front of her. “I’m, uh, I’m a lesbian, Mom. I like women.”

The silence that followed her revelation felt like claws around Gregorio’s neck, choking and scratching into her windpipe. She waited with bated breath. Everything hinged on her mother’s reaction. Tammy’s hands were shaking with fear. Even if they weren’t close, she still loved her mother. She still wanted her to be a part of her life.

“Tammy, I…I’m not sure what to say.”

“Anything,” Gregorio begged, hating how desperate she sounded, but she couldn’t wait any longer. “Just say something, please.”

“Well, you know this isn’t what I wanted for you,” Emily stated, and Tammy knew it was true. Memories of her bisexual phase in high school rushed to the forefront of her mind, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe past the mental images of her mother’s disdain when she was fifteen and dating Zara Matthews. The coldness in her mother’s voice, then and now, felt like Tammy had swallowed a burning hot coal that was beginning to scorch her insides.

“How will you have children, Tammy?” Emily continued, obviously distraught. Tammy’s fingers tightened on the phone, and she tried to take a deep breath; get herself under control.

“I can adopt,” she replied calmly, “Or find a surrogate. Or…” She paused, hesitating. She was already six feet deep and buried with her mother, it seemed; why not put the nail in her own coffin? “...or maybe I won’t have kids.”

“Tammy,” her mother said reproachfully, “You have to have kids!”

“Says who?” Tammy retorted, her hands trembling where they still held the back of the living room chair for dear life. “I mean, look at me. I’m okay, aren’t I? I’m happy. I, I don’t have to have kids. Besides, I’m an NCIS agent. Who would want a mom who does what I do?”

“A child that understands the meaning of sacrifice,” Emily snapped. “Which you clearly don’t.”

“Mom, I…”

“No, Tammy, just don’t.” Gregorio fell silent, biting her lip hard to avoid letting out the tears that had gathered in her eyes sometime during the phone call. Her mother loved her, she was sure. But Tammy could never be who she wanted, either. And if she had learned one thing from her time in New Orleans with Ethan, before NCIS, it was that sometimes love wasn’t enough.

“Look, dear, I’m not going to say that this is the end of things.” Gregorio’s breath hitched, and she had to fight to keep her emotions in check. She knew that tone well enough to know what her mother was really saying, and it was the end of things. God, she knew her mother wouldn’t approve, but to know it and to have it confirmed were two very different feelings.

“But you should know how I feel about this,” Emily continued, ignorant to her daughter’s pain. “I don’t think it’s right. I don’t think it’s natural. I always thought you grew out of that phase you had in high school, especially after you married Ethan. Which, I know that didn’t work out, but one bad apple doesn’t mean the whole barrel is bad. I-I don’t know what you want from me here, Tammy. You are my daughter, and I love you. But I will not support this lifestyle. When you’re ready, you can come back home. We can work this out. But until then, don’t - don’t call. Don’t visit. Please. Spare us both. I’m sure you won’t feel this way forever, Tammy. When you change your mind, I’ll be here. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Mom - ”

“Tammy, please. Don’t make this any harder than it already is. Just-Just sort yourself out, okay? I’ll be here when you need me. I love you.” With that, the call dropped, and Gregorio sank to her knees behind the worn out chair, breathing hard and fast, on the verge of a fucking panic attack from the call. Emily was gone. She recognized the situation for what it was; her mother had given her an ultimatum. Become straight, or say goodbye to her and their home back in New York forever.

It wasn’t a choice at all.

With the sound of the dial tone in her ear, her mother’s final words before she hung up way too loud in her head, Tammy allowed herself to cry, the weight of the emotions she had struggled to hold back before escaping in full. She sobbed into her knees, her shoulders shaking. She couldn’t be something she wasn’t. She couldn’t change, even though there had been more than enough times that she wanted to. She couldn’t give her mother what she had asked for.

In all the ways that mattered, it was over.

She and her mother had never been close. The truth was that Tammy expected the call to end like this, but it was still more of a blow than she had ever expected to know that the woman who raised her would never accept her for who she was. Tammy felt lost, and cut open, like someone had twisted a knife in her and then left her to die on a street corner. She didn’t know what her next steps were, if there even were any, and more than anything, she felt vulnerable.

It was a feeling she wasn’t used to, between her secrecy about her private life and the walls she built around her heart, but it made her want to hide and protect her six from whatever was going to hurt her. But there was nothing to shield herself from, no imminent threat or dangerous gunman; just her own damage and that goddamn dial tone still humming in her ear, a reminder that she would never be able to call home again.

The thought of home sent a fresh wave of tears cascading down her cheeks, and Tammy finally ripped the cellphone from her ear, throwing it across hardwood until it crashed into the side of her refrigerator. She would regret that later, she was sure, but for now she didn’t care. She couldn’t. The only piece of herself that seemed to matter was in New York, probably opening a bottle of whiskey and no doubt planning to pray for her in church the next day.

Home was gone forever now, even if she hadn’t called it that in years. It was still the place where she was raised, and where she’d learned how to fight for herself in more ways than one. She loved the sprawling hills on their property, and the well where she had nearly drowned once as a child. She loved the fucking tire swing and the garden beds and the old barn where she used to go with the dogs when she needed to be alone. Their house and grounds were so beautiful that sometimes Gregorio hardly believed that she lived in New York growing up. All of it would become a memory now, and she would never be able to touch the wildflowers that grew along the fence line ever again. It shouldn’t have affected her so much, considering it had been years since she even wanted to go home, but the thought of losing it all forever was more than she could handle.

The tears, which hadn’t stopped or slowed in the slightest, were becoming overwhelming and almost nausea-inducing, so Gregorio took a deep breath, moving her hands roughly down her legs, then her calves, then her ankles, trying to ground herself and move away from the precipice of her breakdown. But instead of finding stability in her old brown Doc Martens, like she had hoped, her hand brushed a cold piece of metal, and it sent her heartbeat racing again.

She knew what it was, the feeling unmistakeable against her fingers. It was a sterling silver razor blade, years old at least, tucked into a fraying patch on her boots since November of 2018. She had played a dangerous game with it, allowing it so close; on one hand, it could become dislodged at work and she ran the risk of someone investigating her for psychological issues if they saw where it had been hiding. On the other hand, she could lose it in the field, and she would never have to worry about it, or remember the temptation, ever again.

Neither of those things had happened, apparently, and she knew from the feel of it against her fingers that, somehow, it hadn’t even been scuffed. It was the perfect deadly instrument, even after all these years. Gregorio’s hand trembled.

She hesitated for a second, but pulled the razor blade from the patch on her boot, turning it over and over in her palms like precious gold. A coil of longing hit her like a punch to the gut, and Gregorio tried to suck in a deep breath, wanted to put it back, wanted to throw it away and pretend it never existed, but she couldn’t bring herself to.

If this razor blade had somehow managed to survive three years working as a field agent for the FBI, and one as an NCIS agent, not to mention the countless parties and clubs she’d been to, it had to be a sign. Gregorio didn’t believe in fate, but maybe the gods that weren’t were trying to tell her something now.

It had been five years. It had been half of a lifetime. Part of Gregorio didn’t want to risk it, after fighting so hard to get clean in the first place, but the other, larger part of her that wanted for the quick pain of metal against her skin argued that because it had been so long, it wouldn’t matter now. A relapse wasn’t really a relapse if it only lasted a day, and if she got her act together right after. She could do this, and hide it, then throw it away the next day and no one would ever have to know.

“It’s not like last time,” Gregorio muttered to herself, trying to believe it. “I won’t let it get out of hand.”

She didn’t know if she could keep the promise to herself or not, but it didn’t matter. Her mother’s words were still burning like acid in her lungs, and she just wanted the pain to be replaced with something new, something better, until she was able to get ahold of herself. It was the best, most efficient option, and then she would stop. One cut, she told herself, and after that she would curl up in bed and watch Desperate Housewives or something. One cut, and she would be okay.

Tammy rolled up her sleeve, took a deep breath, and pressed the razor blade to her wrist.

The relief was immediate, almost as overwhelming and euphoric as a drug, and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks at the feeling. It didn’t take away her mother’s homophobia, or the way her abandonment made Tammy feel, but it replaced the worst of it with white-hot pain and the familiar sting of a fresh cut instead. Blood welled like storm clouds in the wound, and slid down her wrist until it began to drip onto her pants. Lazily, Tammy remembered she needed to do laundry and didn’t have another pair of work pants. Another, bigger part of her, however, couldn’t be bothered to care.

Instantly forgetting the one-cut promise, Tammy sliced her way through six pristine cuts before stopping to take a breath, her chest heaving with the relief of giving into the old addiction again. She didn’t remember much from three years ago, the last time she cut, but she could swear it had never felt this good before.

Looking down at her arm, a pageant of crimson lines sluggishly bleeding, Tammy felt the calm settle into her bones, numbness chasing away the pain. She exhaled hard, letting her head thump against the forgotten chair in front of her. She got what she needed. She should stop.

She didn’t.

It was close to midnight before she threw the razor blade down and stopped to admire her work. She wasn’t sure how much blood she would have to clean up, or how much she had lost, and she hadn’t eaten today either. She knew it wasn’t a good idea to just sit there after what she’d done, but her head was swimming, and she was so exhausted that even attempting to get up would have been too much for her. So, instead, Tammy rested her arms on the bloodstained slacks, and let her head loll against the back of the living chair. She had slept in worse places.

~ ~ ~

In the morning, Tammy’s alarm came blaring to life at 6am, startling her awake from where she was slumped over next to the chair. Her arms felt like they were glued to her pants, dried blood sticking to the fabric, and she could feel a telltale crustiness on the seat of her pants that meant, somehow, she had managed to sit in a puddle of blood. “God, make it stop,” she muttered, and struggled to get to her feet to turn off the fucking alarm. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this bad.

By the time she made it to the kitchen, where her phone was at, miraculously not dead but down to the last 5% of its battery, it was almost 6:30 and she was going to be late for work if she didn’t hustle.

Tammy made it to her bedroom with less difficulty, though she still felt lightheaded, and got to work peeling the blood-soaked slacks off and painfully removing her shirt, which had a few spots of blood on it from her careless cutting the night before. She searched through her closet as fast as she could for the most lightweight long-sleeved shirt she had, that was a dark enough color to mask the blood if her cuts opened up while she was at work. After that, she selected a pair of dark jeans, even though they were against the agency dress code, and headed to the bathroom to do what she could for her appearance.

To her dismay, her eyes were still a little bloodshot from last night, and her hair was a mess. She would need makeup to cover up the circles underneath her eyes, evidence of multiple nights of restless sleep in preparation for the phone call with her mother.

The thought of her mother made Tammy’s heart seize up, and she pressed on one of the new cuts, hissing at the sharp pain it brought. It was enough to snap her out of her head, at least, and she got to work applying makeup to cover up what she could of her turmoil. Finally, she was able to run a brush through her hair, grab her gun, badge, and car keys, and head out the door.

Just before walking into the Navy Yard, Tammy hesitated, and considered calling in sick. But as tempting as it was to go back to her apartment and stay in bed all day, that wasn’t a good idea; the NCIS team was like a big fucking family, and they were sure to stop by if they got word she wasn’t feeling well. Not only was her apartment a mess, but the pool of blood by the chair in the living room, as well as the razor blade that had caused all of this damage, was still out in the open for any prying eyes to see.

Still, Tammy knew it would be hard to keep what she had done from her teammates. She would have to be on her guard. They were perceptive, even if they weren’t trained profilers like her, and much worse, they knew her. It would take all of her skills at hiding and lying and pretending to fool them into believing she was fine.

The cuts pulled tight as the fabric of her shirt shifted, making each step and movement she made towards the office painful. She had learned how to hide the pain a long time ago, but a part of her wished she had bandaged the wounds before coming in today, instead of hiding the first-aid supplies in her bag in case of an emergency and hoping for the best. But Pride was already going to kill her for being late, and it would take another fifteen minutes at least to deal with the fallout of her habit. She didn’t want to come off any more suspicious than she already was.

Taking a deep breath, Gregorio etched a smile onto her face, and walked into the NCIS office like everything was fine, as always. Nothing is different today, she warned herself, trying to drill it into her brain. Nothing has changed.

“There ya are, Gregorio! Was startin’ to wonder if we was gonna have to send out a search party,” Chris greeted her with a smile, and Gregorio gave him one of her patented bitchfaces in return.

“I got caught in traffic,” she lied, and watched his face for any signs of disbelief as she made her way to her desk. She clocked the slight raise of his eyebrows, his posture lengthening, and reminded herself to adjust her tone when she was lying.

“Didn’t think there was hardly any traffic on Bourbon Street,” Chris commented, and Tammy turned to place her bag next to her desk and start up her computer. It was easier to lie to someone when she didn’t have to face them.

“There isn’t usually,” she replied, keeping her tone light and casual. “Guess today was my lucky day.”

“Guess so,” Chris responded, and Tammy turned around just in time to see him giving her one of his famous, milliwatt smiles. She grinned back, bumping his shoulder playfully on her way into the kitchen. One down, two to go.

By the time she caught up with Pride and Sonja, it was almost midday, and the hot, humid weather prompted a picnic invite from Pride to eat lunch at the bridge in town. Chris, Sonja, and the others all agreed, leaving Gregorio as the odd one out. She knew she couldn’t decline without offering an explanation, lest they become suspicious of her motives, but she couldn’t accept the invitation when she knew either Chris or Sonja would try to roll up her sleeves the second they arrived, either to tease her or out of care for her wellbeing. Refusing their help against potential heatstroke when it was summer in the middle of New Orleans was a one-way ticket to having her secret revealed.

“Tammy, you’re not going to lunch with us?” Percy pouted, her eyebrows drawn up in that Percy way, that said she was more concerned than disappointed, but was too proud to put voice to her feelings. “Come on, don’t you want to hang with the gang?”

“As much as I would love to ‘hang with the gang’,” Gregorio used air quotes and gave Sonja a playful smirk, “I have a prior obligation.”

“Oooh, someone’s got a hot date,” Chris said, walking into the kitchen with an ice chest for their drinks. “So who is it, Gregorio? Black-haired beauty? Feisty redhead? That’s my type.”

“Excuse you,” Percy retorted, raising her eyebrow in his direction.

“Pardon me,” Chris corrected, giving Sonja a fond smile, “That’s usually my type.”

“Better,” Sonja affirmed, before turning her attention to Gregorio once more. “But seriously, T, where you goin’ that you can’t come hang with us?”

“Well, Chris wasn’t exactly wrong,” Gregorio replied, lifting her coffee mug to her lips to take a sip so she could avoid having to look either of them in the eyes. “A certain mayor’s secretary asked me out the other day, and I can’t leave her hanging a second time.” Though it was a lie that they had a lunch date, it wasn’t a lie that she’d been asked out, so Gregorio didn’t feel as bad as she maybe should for using Amber as her scapegoat.

“With that one, you better not,” Chris replied, chuckling. “I’ve heard she’s got some high standards.”

“Of course she does,” Gregorio retorted without missing a beat. “She’s going on a date with me, isn’t she?”

Sonja and Chris both laughed at that, the latter ribbing her good-naturedly for a minute or two before they calmed down. She allowed her smirk to play on her lips, knowing she could pass it off as satisfaction at her joke instead of her lie. They weren’t suspicious of her anymore, not after she’d thrown them a bone. For now, she was safe.

~ ~ ~

Later that night, when the team was getting ready to wrap up and head home, Pride caught her eye, gesturing her into the kitchen. Tammy dropped her bag and took a deep breath, heading in to meet him. She could feel her heart skip a beat.

Of all of them, Pride was the most likely to figure out that something was wrong, even if he was the least likely to react with anything other than kind, calm patience. Still, the idea of her boss finding out her most guarded secret was more terrifying than she could fathom.

Without speaking or otherwise acknowledging Pride, Gregorio took a seat on the barstool across from him, crossed her arms, and waited. She could feel her heart pounding in her throat, but forced herself to be motionless and keep her expression blank, lest she give away the anxiety she was feeling.

“So, Gregorio,” Pride said, taking in her position and folding his arms across the top of the bar, “Want to tell me what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Gregorio replied defensively, before she could stop herself and try to temper her tone. “What makes you think something’s going on?”

Pride raised an eyebrow at her, unimpressed. “Well, for starters, you came in late today, said it was traffic when traffic is nonexistent on your street, you’re actin’ awful odd, and then you lied to Christopher and Sonja about who you were with for lunch today.”

Gregorio opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, Pride held up his hand and continued, “I have it on good authority that the mayor’s secretary didn’t leave her office all day.” He softened, giving her a worried look, and said, “Just want to know you’re okay, and if anything’s goin’ on that we can help with.”

“It’s nothing,” Gregorio sighed, letting her shoulders slump in defeat. There was no use pretending she was fine if Pride already knew something was up. She didn’t have to tell him everything, but maybe if she told him about her mom, at least, he’d leave her alone.

“Just a little upset from a phone call with my mother yesterday,” Gregorio admitted, picking at her nails to avoid meeting Pride’s eyes. “I came out to her.”

Pride nodded, his eyes filling with support and kindness for her, and moved to wipe down the kitchen counter, in an effort to give her space to talk as much as she wanted to. Gregorio knew the tactic, was familiar with it from teasing the truth out of LaSalle when he was being particularly stubborn. Though she was loathe to admit it, she appreciated it. “How did she take it?”

“Not well,” Tammy sighed, pressing her nail into the pad of her thumb to resist the urge to burst into tears again. She had already done enough crying in the past 24 hours. “She basically gave me an ultimatum; stop being gay, or stop coming home. Permanently.”

“Oh, Tammy,” Pride breathed, sympathy pouring out of him and into her. “I’m so sorry.” He reached across the bar to lay a hand on her shoulder, and against her will, Tammy leaned into the touch.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, closing her eyes to avoid letting Pride see how glossy they had become. “W-We were never really close.”

“Still, that’s gotta hurt,” Pride said, withdrawing just enough to allow her time to fight back the tears and open her eyes once more. “Parents’ rejection is…one of the worst things that can happen to a child. No matter how old they are.”

“Yeah,” Tammy breathed, the weight of her own exhaustion hitting her as she slumped on the barstool. She couldn’t remember the last time she had let something damage her like this. Who knew her mother’s decision would have such an impact on her? She sighed and tugged lightly on one of her sleeves, until it was down far enough on her arm to cover her fingers. Pride caught the movement, but said nothing. “To make matters worse, she tried to frame it like she loved me, and she was going to be there for me.” Tammy laughed bitterly, emotion swelling up in her throat. “She’s so convinced I’m going to change, Pride.”

“Not the way it works,” Pride said fondly, giving her a warm smile. His hand, still on her shoulder, was like a grounding wire, keeping her settled, and she felt like she was being comforted by the father she never had.

“Yeah,” Tammy said, again, and her voice wobbled on the last syllable. Under Pride’s kind, supportive words and gentle ministrations, she could feel the dam in her chest threatening to explode, and she slid sideways off of the barstool, grabbing for her coat and heading towards the door. She had to get out of here, before she lost it completely. “Anyway, I should go - ”

“Wait,” Pride called, and moved to follow her, grabbing her wrist to stop her from leaving. Without thinking, still trying to calm the tidal wave of emotion in her chest, Gregorio hissed in pain.

“Tammy,” Pride said slowly, releasing her wrist with some reluctance, “There something wrong with your arm?”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Tammy replied, giving him a quick, panicked smile. “Just bruised it on the countertop when I was getting ready for work this morning.”

“That so?” Pride asked, and he sounded suspicious enough to make Tammy’s heart skip a beat in fear. She curled her fingers around her sleeves protectively. “Mind if I take a look at it?”

“Don’t bother,” Gregorio replied, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “I told you, Pride, it’s nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing,” Pride replied, and he reached for her wrist again. Determined not to give anything away, Tammy kept her face purposefully blank, allowing him to hold her arm in his hand even as his fingers pressing against the cuts felt like a sharp knife against her skin. “Thing is, Tammy…” Pride moved to grasp her sleeve, and Gregorio’s entire body tensed, waiting for his next move. This was not happening.

“You haven’t worn long sleeves this dark, especially during summer, all year,” he continued, “and that first time we talked, up on the balcony in your hotel when you first came here – you wore a tank top, and I don’t think you thought about it then, but I noticed something the others didn’t get the chance to see.” He lifted his gaze to meet Gregorio’s eyes, and she knew, without having to ask what he meant, that she was done for.

Pride knows.

“I’ve seen the scars on your wrists, Tammy,” Pride said softly, “And I’ve never mentioned it, because it’s not my business and I don’t want you to think I’m judging you for it. But if your arm is hurt…after all you’ve been through in the past few days, you understand why I need to check, right?”

Tammy nodded tightly, trying not to cry, as Pride moved to roll up her sleeve. At the last second, just before he could grab the cuff of her shirt, she blurted out: “And what do you think you’ll find, if you check?”

“I think you and I both know the answer to that,” Pride responded, his voice as kind and understanding as ever. Tammy choked on a sob, losing the battle against her emotions, and pulled away from him, running her hands through her hair so hard that she was sure she’d left red, inflamed scratches on her scalp. She heaved a deep breath and choked on it, trying to hold in the breakdown that wanted to happen, fighting to remain in control. Pride couldn’t see her like this. No one could.

“Just - Just please don’t demote me,” Tammy begged, straightening up and gasping for breath, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans. “D-Don’t put me on desk duty. I can still handle myself in the field, I promise I’m not a liability, Pride.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Pride said, and her heart sank. “For now, we need to get you taken care of.” He glanced at his watch, and muttered, “Loretta might still be here, I’d have to check the morgue.”

“No – please,” Gregorio pleaded, embarrassment creeping up to settle like fire on her cheeks. “No one else needs to know about this.”

“They do, Tammy,” Pride argued, raising his eyebrows at her. “They’re your teammates. Your family. They care about you. Of course they should know about this.”

“Please,” Tammy said, raising her arms to hug herself, trying to get some semblance of comfort in the least embarrassing or incriminating way possible.

“Look,” Pride said, gesturing for her to sit down across from him in the kitchen once more, taking a seat opposite her on the island, “I know you’re scared. You’re worried about what the others might think. But they love you, Tammy, and they want to help you. I do too.”

“What if they hate me?” Tammy breathed, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. She knew she looked like a wreck, pathetic even, but this was her worst nightmare come true and she couldn’t pretend anymore. “Pride, I’m weak.” She gestured haphazardly at her arms, at herself, and shook her head, avoiding his gaze by staring down the marble kitchen tile. “They’ll see me differently.”

“Maybe so,” Pride conceded, “but not in the way you think. They won’t consider you weak, Tammy. I don’t.” He reached out to lay his hand on her arm, comforting and grounding her with the touch. “You’re one of the strongest people I know, Gregorio.”

“Even now that you know I - ” Tammy gestured to her arms once more, at a loss for words. “ - Again?”

“Even now,” Pride confirmed, giving her a firm nod and a steady look that swore honesty. “Tammy, no one on this team will think any less of you for struggling with this.”

“Promise?” Tammy whispered, letting some of the vulnerability she was feeling slip into her voice as she asked the question.

“Promise,” Pride affirmed, and gave her arm a soft, gentle pat.

Gregorio nodded, her shoulders slumping in relief as some of the tension was alleviated. “Do you have to tell them tonight?”

“No, not tonight,” Pride responded. “But soon.”

“I understand.” Gregorio looked away, the fear thundering back to life in her chest. For an instant, under Pride’s reassuring words, it had disappeared.

“It’s gonna be okay, Gregorio,” Pride promised her, moving from the opposite side of the bar to wrap her in a tight hug. “The team’ll take care of you.”

“Shouldn’t have to,” Gregorio protested weakly, but Pride shushed her with a hand in her hair, stroking gently.

“We want to,” he said, and Gregorio was struck with how much she wished he could have been her real dad. Maybe her future would’ve turned out better if he was. “This is somethin’ that everyone is more ‘n willin’ to help you with. We’re gonna get it taken care of. Got your back, Tammy, not just for work.”

“Thanks, Pride,” Gregorio whispered, too emotional to express her gratitude any further. She was sure Pride understood. In his arms, trembling, Gregorio could admit that maybe what she had really needed was the support and acceptance of her loved ones. Maybe her mother would never love her the way she was, but she had an entire family here in New Orleans that did.

Maybe that was what mattered.

And if, the next day, when Loretta called her down to the morgue and told Gregorio about her mother’s issues with self-harm while she bandaged the fresh cuts on Tammy’s arms, she felt a small piece of her heart begin to heal, she didn’t mention it. And if, when Sebastian gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek and offered to call her and ramble about whatever came to mind when she was having urges, she started to tear up, well, no one could prove it (she had threatened Sebastian with removing his Power Rangers collection from the lab if he told anyone). And if, when Chris said nothing but drew her into the tightest hug she could ever remember receiving, and Percy showed up at her house without warning to sit on the couch with her and watch basketball, she began to realise this was all the family she needed, she knew she could blame Pride for most of it.

Getting clean again, and resisting the urge to take a blade to her arms whenever she felt like her world was falling apart, was a fight that took months, and she did end up on desk duty for some of it, but despite the silence that stretched between her and her mother, she found that the most important thing was the family that she had right here.

Maybe she didn’t need what used to be her home when she had a better one here in New Orleans.

[milkacchan]

Request for anon: Hi!!!! i love our writing and i just knew you could do this! Could you do one with a father Aizawa and a gender nuetral chil reader, who is jealous of Midoriya. Because when Midoriya harnesses his quirk Aizawa be happy dadzawa but when the reader was like 6 or 7 and harnessed theirs he said like " Work harder." Or the world won't want a weak hero and stuff and thats why they hate Midoriya and stuff? IT IS SOO FINE OF YOU CANT!! THANKS <3

•Midoriya is nice.

• He's /so/ fucking nice

• He has a nice smile

• His freckles are nice

• His attitude is great

• He goes out of his way to make sure people are okay

• Which makes it worse and pisses you off more.

• You've been jealous of him for awhile- please he's the center of attention for everyone

• But that isn't your problem

• He's the center of attention for your own dad.

• At least it seemed that way.

• Shota Aizawa, your father, was a teacher at U.A.

• He was bound to get attached to students, that's what teachers are supposed to do

• But..it felt like you were on the back burner and not enough

• when you develop your quirk, you dad gives you a speech

• You're first sucess with your quirk, your father tells you to work harder

• And that's all it ever is

• "work harder"

• "you should be farther along by now,"

• "this isn't a joke, why are you treating it that way?"

• there wasn't a good job or a congrats or praise

• But there was with midoryia

• who got all of it.

• he got good jobs and impresseds

• He got way to go kid and that was smart

• At the beginning of the year you liked him

• He was friendly and funny and he seemed like a cool dude

• He was a cool dude and you hated him- yourself even more for that

• You couldn't ever hate him, not truly.

• Not even when your father praised him, took him under his wing, focused on him

• Even shinsou- you didn't hate him. You were great friends with him.

• But Midoriya irked you, even if you couldn't find it in you to talk behind his back or fuck him over

• Your jealousy for the boy only grew as your fathers praise to him grew and his words to you grew distanced.

• And yet you still thrived for the man's approval

• You wanted to be recognized

• You wanted validation

• You wanted praise and approval.

• You wanted love.

• You stopped speaking to Midoriya, completely. The poor boy didn't deserve a blow up from you, it wasn't his fault.

• Contact to him stopped. His conversation muted unless it was to the class Group Chat

• Your seat? Unfortunately still near him, was no longer an issue if you just ignored his presence

• If your group was hanging put with him that day, you'd skip with some dumb homework excuse.

• No one said anything

• Aside from shinsou that is.

• The smart-ass always had something to say

• "You can't just ignore your problems forever."

"I'm not, till talking to you."

"Funny. But seriously. He's going to question it if he hasn't already. Word gets around.."

• In all seriousness, shinsous worried. He's really worried.

• He's watching you distance yourself from people, from midoryia- hell the only reason the two of you still talk on a daily basis is because he forces it.

• You don't mind, of course, he know that. You did the same to him when his mental health had declined.

• But he sees you're doing it for validation

• Amd he knows Aizawas words aren't malicious. You're his kid, he's worried and wants you to survive over anyone else.

• Doesn't mean how he's going about it is right.

• and it isn't long before you start taking physical training to the max too.

• After class you train for hours until dinner.

• Sometines you miss it; sometimes you don't get home until much later.

• One day in particular though, you start training on a Saturday morning

• He tells you to be smart, keep hydrated and take breaks before he leaves for the day

• Only to come back at dusk to you still training

• "Quirks are currency shinsou,"

"That doesnt-"

"I have to get stronger, no one's going to want a weak hero"

"Y/N please- you've been out here all day. It's hot and muggy and you've barley eaten anything. You need breaks. You can't be a strong pro hero if you die of heat exhaustion." He takes your arm and pulled it down from the punching bag. "You're worrying me."

"I'm not strong enough," you mumble. "Dads right,"

• Eventually Midoriya starts to question why you're ignoring him

• He doesn't think he's done anything wrong

• Maybe he said the wrong thing? But what even is the wrong thing? What could he have said?

• After one particularly rough morning, you're struggling with something

• You're already pissed and ready for the day to be over.

• And it's only 10 in the fucking morning

• And Midoriya, desperate to heal what he once had with a friend (you), walks over to help

"Hey," he starts. "You look like you need some help?"

You pause, glancing in his direction for only a moment. "Go sit down," You mutter.

"I just want to help-"

"I don't need your fucking help. You are the LAST thing I need," you snap. "Who the fuck would /ever/ need you?" You grab your bag and shove him back, leaving the classroom.

The class quiets.

• Midoriya didn't deserve it, no. You knew that.

• You also knew that you weren't in the place to go back to school, so you didn't.

• You took the day off, wandering the streets of your prefecture

• Shinsous blowing up your phone

• Katsuki is too.

• Katsukis upset, you would be too if someone spoke to your friend that way

• Everyone else is too on edge to text you, they're worried though.

• Of course, they go to Aizawa.

• They tell him what happened and how you've been acting

• And he nods quietly and says he'll take care of it.

• Shinsou finally finds you at the Cafe you frequent and he quietly sits across from you

• "you should be in school," you mumble

"So should you."

It's quiet for a few moments before you speak again. "I think I'm going to leave U.A. Mom lives in Miyagi, they've got some nice highschools there. I talked to her over the phone last night."

"What? What no, you can't?"

"Why not, Hitoshi?"

"Because you're a hero-"

"I'm not. I'm not a fucking hero. I haven't made any successes while I've been here, I haven't developed anything, Dad was right."

"You dad was wrong. He's wrong. He's- He's worried one day you're not going to come home. Or when you do you won't be in one piece, so he's pushing you and pushing you," he took your hand gently. "You're strong. You're going to be a great hero. You've already accomplished more than you know."

"I blew up at Midoriya today," you slide him your drink and he takes a sip.

"I know." He nods. "But that's okay, we can deal with it later." He squeezed your hand.

"Yeah, later,"

• It's very much later by the time you reach your dorm.

• The day Shinsou moved to the 1A dorms was the day you'd rejoice

• Your bag is tossed to the side and you make your way to the kitchen and freeze.

• Aizawa is sitting at the table, facing you.

"Your friends are worried about you,"

Yous scoff. "Yeah I'm sure they are."

"Midoryias worried about you."

"I really don't care."

"You shouldn't have snapped at him." Aizawa sighs.

"Thats-" you take a deep breath. Of course he only cared about Midoriya. "Typical." You move to the fridge to get something to drink.

"I..apologize," he begins. "'It's come to my attention that I haven't exactly been the best father to you since your mother left,"

"You think?" You muttered.

"I'm worried. I'm scared."

You look up at him.

"The world is cruel. And I've lost so many students to hero work in the years I've taught, I wouldn't be able to handle it if I lost you to. But it seems I'm already down the path." He stood up and walked over to you. "You're my kid, I love you more than the moon and the stars, I want you to stay safe. Above everyone else, above all else, I want you to come home." He kisses your forehead.

"It'd be nice to get a good job every once in awhile. Everyone else does." You mutter, looking down.

"You are doing great, you know. I don't say it nearly enough but you impress me everyday."

• It's...a little awkward after that, neither of you know how to process emotion so after two days you just pretend like it never happened

• You quietly apologize to Midoriya and wall away before he can respond before pretending like that didn't happen either

• You're not expecting him to want to be your friend

• But he's very adamant on texting you, inviting you out, walking with you you to class

• 1A becomes whole again

• But Shota does ease up, you get the good jobs, the praise, the validation

• And you eat it up to be frank, you fucking love it.

[blueroses789]

I wish I could be stronger

Warnings:

Mental health issues

Smut

Angst

Domestic violence

next chapter: A reminder 

Chapter 5/?

Reconnection: Chapter 5      

Notes: 

Okay so I thought about a Jean x Reader pairing for this fic but decided not to do it. Also I will be increasing the angst for the next chapter. So enjoy the fluff while it lasts. 

“What?” You hadn’t meant to sound so rude. But shock seems to take away any self awareness. Embarrassed, Eren looked away.

“I mean if you're okay with it.” Eren said quietly. Once the shock had worn off, you felt an excitement you had never felt before bubble up from you. “I'd love that! You then realized what you’d said. “Sorry! Um.. I meant I would like to. Love is a bit of a strong word.” You laughed nervously. Eren nodded in agreement. “Sooo…what do you want to do?” You asked. “There's this coffee shop down the block from your dorm. Wanna go there.” “Sure. What time?” “How about Wednesday at 4:00?” You smiled at Eren for the first time in six years. “Okay. See you then, Eren.” Eren lay on his back, thoughts keeping him up all night. He was wondering if this was a good idea. What if she still liked him? That could ruin his and Mikasa’s relationship. But……He also missed Y/n. It was like the second she came up to him something had opened. Maybe her feelings had gone. It was six years ago after all. Despite his worries, Eren had promised to meet her. So at 3:50 on Wednesday, Eren could be seen at a table, waiting. Eren thought that he would be alone till Y/n showed up. He was wrong. “Hey Eren!” Mina Carolina walked up to him. They had known one another for years now. Today Mina wore a leather jacket and pants. Mina had taken a more “tough” style around ninth grade. He had hung out with her a few times. It was different than hanging out with Mikasa. She let him have fun, and didn’t tell him what to do. “Hey. What are you doing here?” “Just getting coffee. Waiting for Mikasa?” “No, just a friend of mine.” Eren decided it was best not to tell Mina who he was hanging out with. Mina had stopped being friends with Y/n (and Historia) for some unknown reason. “Cool. Anyway I’ll see you around.” Mina left. Eren only had to wait a few more minutes for Y/n to arrive. She was dressed in a navy blue coat, hair let free. Even if Eren didn’t have feelings for her, he thought she looked cute. She looked around and finally found Eren. He waved her over. Then, an old memory surfaced. Maybe it was the way she smiled at him. Or her familiar e/c eyes. Armin had once said that eyes were the window to one's soul. He always thought Y/n had the prettiest eyes. Y/n took the chair in front of him. “How are you?” Y/n looked slightly nervous. Eren felt the beginnings of shame. Of course she was nervous. He hadn’t exactly been kind to her in the past six years. Now that he thought about it, he’d even forgotten her birthday. His face turned red remembering this. “Are you okay Eren?” Y/n leaned in slightly. “What? No, I'm fine.” Eren quickly composed himself. What should he say? He felt that talking about why he hadn’t really talked to her in the past six years might not go over well. “So what are you here for?” Y/n was the first to speak. “I’m thinking of becoming an Engineer. I’m pretty good with my hands.” Y/n snorted. Realizing what he had just said, Eren gasped. “That's not what I meant!” A blush had settled over his face. He couldn't believe he had just said that. “Well, are you?” Y/n teased. Eren couldn't help laughing. He wasn’t bothered since he knew it was only meant to be a joke, nothing more. “Very funny Y/n. Hey, are you going to Reiner’s upcoming party this week?” “I don’t think I can. Have to see my work situation.” “You and Reiner seem close” Eren wasn’t aware that Y/n and Reiner had been in close contact. “We hang out sometimes. I only got to know him well this summer though. You know he planned to join the army?” “Yeh, too bad about his parents.” Reiner’s parents ' marriage had been on the rocks for a while now. They wouldn't have gotten married if it weren’t for Reiner being born. Then two years ago Reiner's father was off. Because his mother needed help with the business, he chose to stay with her. “I heard that Reiner tried to contact his dad a few weeks ago.” Y/n said. Eren raised an eyebrow. He didn't know this. “Oh, I wasn’t aware.” “Really? But he talked about it at the party last week.” A waitress came over and took their orders. As they waited Y/n continued to ask Eren about his course. “Built anything at home yet? I know you wanted to build a train set.” “Actually I did . I can show you some time.” Eren offered. Y/n smiled. “Sounds cool! I would really like to.” Eren felt excited at the prospect. Y/n was probably the only one of his friends that hadn’t seen it. Plus his father had been curious as to why one of Eren’s friends had suddenly stopped coming over. As the pair of them sat talking, they didn’t notice Mina glaring at them from across the room. Mina Carolina’s fist clenched her coffee cup. She hadn’t planned on staying. Not until she saw Y/n sit down with Eren. At that moment, she saw red. Not Eren. Anyone but Eren. The very thought of the two being together in any way made her blood boil. She had been sure that what she told Eren six years ago was enough to keep him away from Y/n. Just to be sure, she had sipped a secret Valentine’s day card in Eren’s locker and made it look as if Y/n had done it. When she was younger, Y/n had a habit of drawing cats on cards. So it was quite easy to fool Eren. So just how long had this friendship restarted? Did the Valentine’s day card not creep Eren out enough back then. He was with Mikasa after all at that time. Maybe she should have done more. Then an idea came to her. Yes it was cruel, but so what? Y/n was not getting to be happy, not if she couldn't. Eren would be in his dorm tonight, Mikasa was out of town with some friends, including Y/n. So Mina called Eren and asked to hang out. After he accepted she got ready. Mina had just arrived when she spotted Historia. Ohhh running off with someone that isn’t Ymir. Mina sneered. Historia rolled her eyes. Suddenly she noticed someone behind her. Abel, I didn’t see you. Mina laughed, making the girl behind Historia shiver. About a year ago, Mina and Abel Reiss had a nasty breakup. It gave Mina satisfaction to see Abel being put in her place. Without a word, Historia took her sister's arm and stormed off. Mina watched as they left. Once gone, Mina headed inside. Eren lived on the third floor in room thirty one. She knocked. “Come in.” Mina walked in to see Eren getting up from the couch. “Hey! So what are our plans?” “ Wanna head down to the bar?” “Sure, so long as you're paying.” Eren groaned. He lost a bet two weeks ago, meaning he had to pay for their next outing. They headed down to the bar. It was slightly cold out. To be expected given it was November. Tonight the bar was full. He recognized Reiner and Jean in the corner, in the midst of a conversation. “Let's go say hi.” Mina dragged Eren over. “Just play it cool okay, ask her out.” Jean said to Reiner. Reiner had a slightly nervous look on his face. “Okay. Maybe the next time we meet up.” Reiner’s face settled into one of determination. “Yo!” Mina rushed over, slinging an arm over Reiner’s shoulder. “Mina! What brings you here?” Reiner ruffled Mina’s mid length black hair. “Just getting drinks. I’ll see you guys around.” Mina then pulled Eren away. Reiner waved at Eren before he disappeared. They placed their orders and sat talking. “I saw you with Y/n earlier.” Now was the time to put Mina’s plan together. This was why Mina had wanted to meet up with Eren. “Yeh. It went well.” “Are you sure?” Eren looked at Mina, confused. “What do you mean by that?” Mina paused. She had to play this next part carefully. “Y/n might read into your intentions in a…. less platonic way.” She watched Eren’s reaction. She couldn't make him angry or this would not work out. Eren’s weakness was his eagerness to act before thinking. “I don’t think she did.” But Eren looked uncertain. Mina took the time to strike. “Just be careful, okay.” Eren looked down at his drink. “Okay.” Mina smirked as the fear was renewed in Eren's heart. 

Question: Who is the girl Reiner is talking about?😜

Tag list:  

@jaegersdiary​

@didiyogo​    

@jeagersruletheworld​

@maya3km  

@casinorose​

[neoculturetravesty]

We met in online class - Part 6

Image adapted from here.

Pairing: Renjun x Reader Genre: College AU, romance, some fluff, lots of angst in this part Warnings: Strong language, descriptions of stress and anxiety, fist fight Word Count: 7.7k

Navigation: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | You are on Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Last Part

A/N: Buckle up for some angst.

They say when it rains, it pours and Renjun was about to learn the true meaning of this expression.

Throughout his college life, Renjun had heard his share of praise from his professors who would tell him that he was gifted in a way not many artists were. But now that the career drives and job fairs had begun, Renjun learnt that at best, he was average. In the real world, he wasn’t ‘golden hands’ or gifted or anything like it--he was just one in a line of millions. Because in the bigger picture, Renjun’s competition was not just people in his school; he was competing with even better artists from even better universities that had even better skills and even better means. His design professor had very plainly told the class one day that out of all of them, maybe one or two would ‘make it’ in the real world, if they got lucky. So Renjun knew that if had to shut up anyone who ever doubted him, compete with the best and place anywhere solid by the time he graduated, he needed to land a stellar internship.

Not that his current internship was going any better. Renjun learnt that even small studios were a handful and that an internship basically meant being an errand boy. When he had taken on the job, he had fantasized about meeting exciting artists and maybe even helping the chief curate his best work yet. But more often than not, he found that he was sweeping the place down, and if he got lucky, he got to make a few calls to potential clients (who would yell at him before hanging up). 

And of course, like any self-respecting college that thrived on the student body’s mental health deterioration, the professors weren’t going any easier on the projects, even with the impending exams. 

On top of everything that was happening, Renjun had developed a constant tension in his neck and shoulders. Jaemin reckoned it was because Renjun was hunched over his paintings all the time as he followed the perfect lighting all over the apartment. You, on the other hand, reckoned it was because of all the stress.

“You’re just carrying a lot of anxiety on these gangster shoulders, Huang Renjun.” you had said as you kneaded your knuckles into his hurt one day as you brought him food. Lately, you had taken it upon yourself to make sure that Renjun was eating and staying hydrated through these pressure cooker times. Because when he was left to his own devices, eating would be pretty low on his priority list, simply because he did not have the time for meals. So you’d bring him a snack any time you saw him on campus, and when you didn’t see him, you’d get something delivered to him and if you couldn’t, you’d text him a reminder to eat. But as one would have it during end-of-semester madness, Renjun had received your food more than your company. Because truth be told, you were just as occupied.

Renjun hadn’t seen enough of you in what he was sure was now going to be a good two weeks running because you had way too much on your plate as well. Like Renjun, you too were swarmed by assignments and exams. But other than that, any time he did see you, you were ‘interview dressed’ for all the on-campus drives that were happening in your department. Renjun had come to wish you good luck on one of them and had seen how distracted you looked because apparently, you had pulled some all-nighters to prepare for this. Donghyuck had been the one to tell Renjun about this little bit. 

Because when you weren’t studying or giving interviews or working on projects, you were preparing to throw an end-of-semester party with Donghyuck. He had to admit, there had been moments where Renjun had been irritated that Donghyuck would know more about what was happening in your life than did he. But then again, who was to blame for that?

Renjun knew it was no one’s fault but his own. Because that’s the dumb precedent he had set from the very beginning--that he wouldn’t get too close. He was paying that price for it because somewhere along the way, you had begun to confide in Donghyuck more than in Renjun, though this development was gradual and subconscious. He supposed that since you had met him, some part of you had learnt that she was walking into a wall anytime things got deep with Renjun. And there are only so many times that people were willing to walk into walls before they learnt their lesson.

Renjun knew that you were always ready to provide emotional support. But he also saw that when you were the one that needed it, you were subconsciously turning to Donghyuck rather than to him. 

And because you weren’t doing so consciously, Renjun couldn’t even be upset with you. Who was he to be upset with you over it in the first place? He had spent all those weeks skillfully blocking you. So, just because he had changed his mind now didn’t mean that he could earn your vents right away. It would take some effort on his part and he acknowledged that.

But it wasn’t you hanging out with Donghyuck that bothered him. It was someone else.

Wong Hendery, it appeared, was always around you these days and for some reason, that really bothered Renjun. You had a lot of friends. You were just the kind of person who made friends wherever you went. His own friends were an example. Lately, any time he ran into his roommates in the living room or kitchen (since all of them were buried in work otherwise), they would inquire about you instead of him. You just made a lot of friends and that was a fact of life that Renjun lived with. And whilst so far, Renjun had been okay with all of them, he had no idea why seeing Wong Hendery around you made him feel some type of way. 

And in the strangest turn of events, he had even found himself subtly voicing this to you a couple of times. It had bothered him even more that you had never taken him seriously any time he brought it up. You had either been distracted or disinterested whenever this came up. Or perhaps you had very tactfully been avoiding the subject. You weren’t exactly the scheming type, so Renjun was sure it wasn’t that. All he knew was that at the end of it, he would just end up feeling stupid, because, well… it was a stupid, baseless feeling to have, whatever this was.

All in all, Renjun couldn’t tell what matter it was from the pillage that kept his mood sour these days. His failure in the job fairs, his increasing workload, the impending exams, his lackluster internship, or something else. He recognized that a big part of it had to do with not seeing you enough. He wasn’t going to be the idiot that denied that anymore. Since the party at your parent’s house, he hadn’t had a moment with you where it was just the two of you and you could talk about… well, the two of you. Not seeing you enough was making him sour, he knew that. However, not seeing you enough combined with the fact that Wong Hendery was around you all the time was probably pretty up there as a reason for his bad moods. 

The only upside in the end-of-semester times was that the damn virus seemed to be under control. Students could now more freely move about and a lot more cafes and parks had reopened. So, at the very least, Renjun could get a change of scenery whilst he painted or studied because he was getting tired of his apartment and the library and the damn studio. 

Today, he had just grabbed his things and sent you a very persuasive text, because really, enough was enough. Yes, you were both very busy. Yes, you didn’t have any time today. But you could at least give him one study date out in the sun, and finally, for the first time in two weeks, he had felt that happiness in his chest when you told him you’d come.

The two of you sat by the river as Renjun sketched and made notes and you typed away on your laptop. Your hair was done up in a bun and you wore the campus hoodie and you didn’t even look up from your work when Renjun leaned over to feed you some rice. It had made Renjun smile. You looked like every boy’s fantasy of a college girlfriend but thinking about it also made his heart a tiny bit heavy. Because after all this time, the two of you still hadn’t had that conversation. Come to think of it, the two of you hadn’t even kissed ever since that afternoon in the strawberry fields. And maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t sat with you like this in a couple of weeks, or maybe it was seeing you share your time with other people. But Renjun felt that he had to address the some elephant in the room sooner rather than later. Because he didn’t want a some relationship any longer. He wanted more.

“No one’s going to be happier than me when this semester is over.” you mutter as you chew onto whatever Renjun had fed you.

“You and me both. Let’s celebrate our freedom together when it ends.” Renjun suggests as he sits up to stretch his neck. 

“Done deal.” You look up from your laptop to give him a fist bump.

“Hey, I was thinking…” Renjun hesitates. “Let’s go somewhere together. After the semester is over.” He feels butterflies in his stomach even as he asks you that. And he knows why. Because this is the first time he’s asking you for a real date, where he wants to take you out for your company, no opportunistic strings attached. But also, he wants to take you away from everyone else where he would have all of your attention and he could finally tell you how he really feels.

You smile as you shuffle your notes. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Anywhere. We could go to the beach and go mudflat fishing. If that’s not your thing, we could go camping instead.”

You finally look at him and smile an undistracted, attentive smile. “I’d like that.”

Renjun looks at you softly as he returns your smile. “My exams end before yours. Let’s go right after your last exam.”

“Oh, I can’t go then.” You say, shaking your head quickly.

“Why?”

“Haechan and I are hosting the end-of-semester, remember?” you remind him and Renjun holds himself back before he could exhale over ‘Haechan and I’.

“Okay, how about the day after?” Renjun asks.

“I can’t go then, either. Hendery and I have to go visit the tower.” you tell him.

This time, Renjun can’t hold back. Because ‘Hendery and I’ was way, way worse than ‘Haechan and I’. Before he could stop himself, he finds himself commenting

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Wong Hendery, huh?” he hadn’t meant for that hint of accusation to lace his tone, but it had come out that way.

“Ughhhh, tell me about it. He says he’d basically be happy never seeing me again once all of this is over.” you say as you steal his bowl of rice and begin stuffing your face. Renjun feels that irritation again because as always, you seem to be blowing this topic off. But for some reason, he doesn’t want to let it go today.

“I just don’t trust him.” Renjun says and he finds himself clenching his jaw a little.

You look at him from above the rice and smile amusedly. “Why though? He’s a cool dude.”

“I don’t know. There’s just something about him. I just… I don’t know, I guess it’s a guy’s instinct.” he says, and like anytime he has brought up this subject before, he’s feeling incredibly dumb.

You raise an eyebrow and look away from him. You don’t seem very impressed by the comment. “Nah, he’s super cool and all of that. You can meet him if you like.” you say in a tone that is way too nonchalant for Renjun’s liking. 

He had met him before, of course. But he didn’t know Wong Hendery even if he did know Wong Hendery. So how could he tell you that the man was bad news based on just a feeling? ‘He’s using you! Why don’t you see that he’s using you!’ Renjun wanted to yell at you. But he says something else. 

“Just, like… I don’t know. He just seems mysterious and unsharing.” Renjun tries to explain.

“So are you.”

There is a moment of silence as Renjun feels a sting and you look at him with no expression. 

You were right. 

Renjun hadn’t shared anything about himself with you. The things you knew about him was information you had probably collected through his friends. The only time he had really opened up to you was that one night in his room. Suddenly, more than irritation, he feels angry with himself. 

What a stupid, stupid, stupid idea it had been to set those dumbass rules with you. How had he expected it would pan out? How did he think he could use you as a means to an end, but not learn anything about you or give away anything about himself? He hadn’t thought this through at all. Then again, he hadn’t expected for it to go on this long; and he most certainly hadn’t expected that he would end up falling for you.

“I just… I don’t trust him around you.” Renjun admits and this time, he has the decency to sound a little ashamed.

“I know how to take care of myself, Renjun.” you tell him quietly.

Renjun looks away because for the first time since he’s known you, you’ve spoken to him that way. He wants to scream and pull his hair because no. You don’t. You don’t know how to take care of yourself. How could he tell you that you weren’t the best judge of character? How could he tell you that you allowed people around you to take advantage of you? 

‘It’s why you’re sitting here with me’ Renjun thinks with another sting. He knew Hendery was up to no good with you because he himself had been one of those people that used you for their own gain. He had used your kind heart and your willingness to see the good in people for his own stupid plan. The stupid, dumbass, flawed plan that he hadn’t thought through in the slightest. He had thought he had, because Renjun always assumed he was smarter than everyone in any room. That was probably his dumbest yet most defining trait; as kindheartedness was yours.

As if to add insult to injury, your phone rings and Wong Hendery’s name shines cockily onto your screen, mocking Renjun in all its glory.

“Hey, are you here?” you say as you pick up. You look around till you spot him and wave at him “Okay, coming!”

Renjun looks to where you had signaled and sees Hendery in his bigass car. He notices Renjun looking, waves at him and smiles. 

Renjun’s eyes close and he takes in a deep breath as you begin collecting your things. He doesn’t know why he’s being this way. He had been jealous before; he was an openly bitter person, that much he knew about himself. He despised every other asshole that did better than him. But this was a kind of jealousy he had never really experienced before. He wanted to protect you, but he also wanted to keep you… because now, he could feel you slipping away from him. 

“I’ll call you, okay? Make sure you eat dinner.” your voice sounds a little resigned and suddenly, Renjun feels his heart drop. It’s a strange feeling, but there it is in the pit of his stomach. Renjun realizes that the feeling really closely resembled fear. And it’s because you’re leaving like this. 

Had this been your first fight? Maybe it had. It hadn’t felt like a fight, because Renjun has fought with a lot of people before, and this was nothing like that. There was no screaming, no gaslighting, no accusations. But it was the tone you had taken with him. Like you were disappointed. Like you expected better. You had never taken that tone with him before. So as you stand up to walk away, Renjun grabs your hand. He looks up from where he sits.

“Hey…” his heart is sinking, he has this awful feeling in his chest and now he no longer knows what to say to keep you. So he brings your knuckles to his lips and presses into them for a few moments before he looks back at you. “Are we good?” He wants to kiss you, he wants to take you in his arms and kiss you and know that nothing has changed. But he knows that Wong Hendery is sitting right there and he doesn’t want you to think that he’s putting on a show of jealous, testosterone fueled possession. 

He watches as your face softens. You crouch so your face is levelled with his. You keep holding your bag that’s slung over your shoulder with one hand. With the other, you gently hold onto his cheek and lean in to press a soft kiss to his lips. 

“We’re good.” you say and you smile and then you lift back up to turn around.

Renjun watches unmoving as you walk away from him and drive off with Wong Hendery. He keeps watching till the car makes a turn and disappears from view.

Though you had told him that you were good, that sinking feeling hasn’t left his chest. Because Renjun realizes that what you had done had felt a lot like a goodbye kiss.

Renjun doesn’t get time to dwell on his aching heart too much, because soon after, exams begin. 

It is as if a lull had taken over the entire campus. Everyone around him had their heads down as they studied and slept and slept to study. Jeno and Jaemin had taken over the living room table as they crammed and kept each other awake through their all-nighters. Jisung would try to take some motivation from them but the boy had never been too fond of studying, so he’d end up asleep on the couch whilst Jeno and Jaemin took the floor. Even Donghyuck--who had insofar made it through college based on pure intelligence--could be seen bent over his notes in the library. For a week, each student on campus had a similar schedule; like someone had hit the pause button on everything else in life.

Perhaps it had been the exam stress. Perhaps it was everything that was happening culminating in Renjun’s mind, but that sinking feeling hadn’t completely dissipated from his chest. He had no way to explain what it was or why it was. But if Renjun had to describe it, it was as if a sixth sense was warning him. What the warning was about, he had no idea.

But as fate would have it, Renjun’s hardships were only beginning. Because right before his first exam, he had received a call from his mother. 

He had picked up because this had been maybe her third phone call to him this entire year. But two minutes into the call, Renjun wished he hadn’t. 

Questions were asked as if out of duty: if he was still in school, if he was still living with his friends, if he was looking for a job. And though Renjun hadn’t even asked for it--how she couldn’t send him money for the next couple of months because the Covid situation wasn’t doing any wonders for their restaurant. Although the conversation hadn’t even lasted a full 10 minutes, Renjun’s mind was fully fucked by the end of it. Why the fuck did she have to play with his head like this, just when he was about to go in for an exam? 

He shouldn’t have been surprised. His mother had a way of sensing any time her son was emotionally strained, because she would always show up right on time to add to his burden. This is how it had been most of his life. She would appear usually when Renjun was at his lowest and remind him that he was a useless fucker that nobody cared about. And because she was his mother, she knew exactly what buttons to press to positively fuck him over. 

Fuck this. None of it was fair. It wasn’t fair that she had called him after months and months. It wasn’t fair that she didn’t even want to know how he was doing. A global pandemic had turned the world upside down and she didn’t even want to know if her son was surviving through it. She just wanted to call to give him another reminder that she couldn’t take care of him. Fuck that. Fuck her. Fuck everything. Renjun didn’t need her or his father or anyone else ever again. Fuck all of it.

Renjun had hung up bitterly and that should’ve been the end of it. But for some reason, she had kept calling after that, which made Renjun throw his phone against a wall. Fuck that. She doesn’t get to call him to rub more salt to his wounds. He wasn’t going to give her that satisfaction.

It’s funny how when you’re truly feeling fucked, you tend to isolate yourself from the people who really care about you. And that’s what Renjun ended up doing following that phone call. Almost as if in self-sabotage, he started avoiding everyone and hid himself away. Because no way did anyone really need him, anyway. Renjun knew that even in his friend group, he was the one the others could do without.

Jeno and Jaemin had one another. They would babysit Jisung well enough, and when they didn’t, Jisung had Zhong Chenle. His housemates didn’t really need him, so hiding from them was easy. Lately, he had also stopped hanging out with Yangyang because he was afraid he’d run into Hendery. Lee Mark hadn’t really hung out with him ever since he joined the 127s. And Donghyuck… well, he had you. 

So even you could do without him. You had been doing just fine without him these past couple of weeks. You had still been bringing him snacks, even after that study date. But Renjun wondered if that was because of your bad, kind habit rather than anything else. Truth be told, Renjun didn’t want your snacks anymore. Because each time he got them, it reminded him that he was nothing special to you. He wasn’t any different to you than Jaemin or Jeno or Donghyuck. He was just another guy that you were kind to out of habit. Fuck that. He didn’t need your kindness, or anyone else’s. He was fine on his own.

But on the night after his last exam, he finally picked up the phone he had thrown and read his messages through his cracked phone screen. Just to see if someone missed him. As expected, no one did. But there were some messages from you.

‘Hey shoulder gangster, remember to put on pain patches before you sleep!’

‘I ordered some chicken for you guys, eat well and study well.’

‘Hey, I tried calling you. I had gotten you coffee, but I couldn’t find you so now hyuckie is drinking it.’

‘Ayo. I hope your exam went well. Sending some Chinese food over, so eat before you study!’

‘Hey, Jaemin told me your phone is busted. Idk if you’re gonna see this message, but just wanted to know you’re doing well.’

‘I tried to see you before you went in for your exam but Jeno said you had already left.’

‘Hey… I hope you’re not still upset with me. I’m gonna stop bothering you so we can both study, but I’ll come see you soon.’

‘Okay, I guess i’ll see you after exam week? Meet soon.’

That was the last of it. After that, you hadn’t sent him anything at all. Even you had stopped reaching out to him. 

It seemed that when it came down to it, no one would ever fight for Renjun. No one would want to find out why he was in hiding, or why he hadn’t replied. When worst came to worst, Renjun was always left to fend for himself. He was all alone in this world. 

Jeno and Jaemin would always know what the other was feeling without having to use the words. Neither of them had to explain to the other what was on their mind. They just… knew. When one was in trouble, the other would come running. When one was down, the other would pick him up. Neither had to ask; the other would just sense it and be there. Jisung and Chenle had a similar connection. 

But no one ever sensed Renjun’s heart. No one just knew when he was sad or upset or angry or in trouble. No one would pick him up because no one loved him enough to know his mind. No one had ever paid any real attention to him to know when he was struggling. No one had ever held his hand and taken him out of his despair. No one would even notice that he was in despair. Because he wasn’t anyone’s special anything. 

He had been hiding away for an entire week and no one had even noticed his absence. No one had called in to check on him. Because no one really needed him. Not his friends, not his family. Not even you.

They say when it rains, it pours, and Renjun was about to learn the true meaning of this phrase. Because just when he is about to put his phone away, he receives a text from his mother.

‘Renjun, I didn’t want to tell you this way. But you’re not picking up my calls. Come see me. Your father and I are getting a divorce.’

Renjun had never really been a big drinker. He’d drink some with the boys every now and then. But that was it. But tonight was an exception. Tonight, it was okay to turn to the drink. Tonight, he wanted to forget.

After the kind of day he had had, he thought that even his demons could give him a break. He felt drained. Like his mind was slowly giving up and his body was doing all the heavy lifting. Putting one foot in front of the other. Making him breathe in and out. Keeping his heart beating. It would be doing his mind a favor, drinking. His mind needed numbing, then maybe his body could follow.

He walks into the bar a broken man. And he wonders if that’s how all men are when they walk into bars. Maybe that’s why men who walk into bars make such good punchlines for jokes. He certainly felt like one. Because the people that should love him seemed to treat him like one. Who was he to think any better of himself?

He had made peace with the fact that his parents never wanted him. He had accepted that they were happy to get rid of him. Then why did he still expect their love every single time? What was it that made him go running to them any time they asked? Why had he expected that somehow visiting them would fix everything? 

Had he expected that they would sit him down and peacefully explain why they were parting ways? Of course, he hadn’t. Had he expected that his mother would cry and apologize for putting him through this? Of course, he hadn’t. Had he expected that his father would own up to his mistakes and call him his son? Of course, he hadn’t.

But he also hadn’t expected that neither of them would want anything to do with him after they parted ways. He hadn’t expected to be the collateral damage of a failed marriage that neither party was willing to own. He hadn’t expected to be summoned just so his parents could have a screaming match about whose son he’d be after they divorced. And that both would want to shift that burden to the other.

It suited them, Renjun thinks as he downs whatever the bartender had handed him. It would’ve been more unsettling to have made the trip to find something understanding and amiable. This was on-brand for them. This is how it had been since he was a child. They’d fight and Renjun would be collateral damage. This was the perfect ending to their twenty-one year old saga. Renjun had expected it.

So, why was he feeling like he had lost everything?

“Huang Renjun?” he hears a voice call out to him as if from miles away. Was he drowning? Then why did he feel like he couldn’t breathe? Why did the voices around him sound like they were coming from far away?

“Yoo Jimin.” Renjun finds himself automatically answering. He looks up and let’s his eyes focus and there he finds her. He smiles. Of course. Who else would’ve been the guest of honor in his pity party?

“What are you doing here?” she asks him and Renjun finds himself making a face.

“Drinking.” he says as he lifts up his shot glass.

“Did you follow me here?” she asks cryptically. Typical. Of course everything had to be about her.

“How would I know you’d be here?” Renjun says, looking away as he downs another shot.

“I told everyone at the party I was leaving to be here.” she says and her eyebrow is cocked as she comes closer.

“Party?” 

“Haechan’s party? All your friends were there. Weren’t you there?” she asks cautiously.

Ah, yes, the party. The end-of-semester party. Here he was, drinking his pain away. And his friends, the people who should be concerned about him were partying. It was all very fitting he supposed. This perfectly fit into everything in his life at this moment. Including the fact the Yoo Jimin had been the one to find him when he was at his lowest.

“I didn’t feel like a party.” Renjun replies.

Jimin scoffs. “Typical. Of course Huang Renjun thinks he’s above a party everyone would enjoy.”

Renjun doesn’t answer. It’s an annoying remark and part of him wonders why it is irking him so. His heart was burdened by bigger things. Perhaps his mind thought that being annoyed at Yoo Jimin was an easier emotion to address. This was an emotion he understood. It was an emotion he could process right away. So he turns to her and finds her sitting on the stool next to him.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, because really. Why is she here, talking to him, sitting next to him?

“Oh, don’t worry, Renjun. I’m only waiting for someone.” she says, rolling her eyes and flipping her hair.

“You can wait for someone over there.” Renjun points to a place far away with his glass.

“Okay, you don’t have to be an asshole. I just came in to see why you were drinking alone while all your friends are at that party.” she says and now more than agitation, Renjun feels anger.

“Why do you care if I drink alone, anyway? You’re the one that broke up with me.” he spits out.

“Renjun, seriously, what is your problem? I’m only trying to be nice to you. You don’t have to come for me like that.” Jimin’s eyebrows are high on her forehead as she matches Renjun’s tone.

“Well, thanks a lot, Yoo Jimin. Thank you for your gift of empathy, but I don’t really need it. Not after everything you did to me.”

“Renjun! Seriously, what is it that I did to you? What did I do to you?” she raises her voice in agitation.

“Well, other than abandoning me? Pretending that you were happy with me then pulling the rug from under my feet and breaking up with me? Not even waiting a month before moving on?” Renjun spits venom right back. Who did she think she was, coming here and speaking to him like that?

“Jesus Christ, Renjun. Would you listen to yourself? Does it ever occur to you that you could’ve been the asshole in this relationship? That maybe I broke up with you because you were the jerk?” Jimin’s face is contoured as she yells at him. It’s good that the bar is relatively full, otherwise this could’ve been a scene.

“I was nothing but nice to you. I treated you so well and you treated me like dirt!” Renjun hisses.

“Renjun, that’s your problem! You only see the faults in others and never in yourself! But you’re not ready for that conversation, so let’s not have it!” she yells and turns away from him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“No, no, by all means, let’s talk about it. Let’s talk about all the times I mistreated you, please.” Renjun mocks. He was already too used to being gaslighted by his parents. Jimin could join that club. This was already the worst day of his life. It couldn’t possibly get any worse.

“Renjun, this! This right here. You never respected me. You never treated me like an equal. With you, I always felt like some stupid, airheaded trophy. I always felt like everything I wanted was superficial and shallow and not worth anything!”

“And whose fault is that.” Renjun laughs darkly.

“Renjun, you can’t even see what you’re doing! You just think you’re so much better than everyone else! You think everyone around you is a degenerate and that you’re the smartest person to ever walk this earth. I can’t believe I let you treat me that way for so long.” Jimin’s hands go from balling into fists to animatedly helping her point. “Renjun, I wanted to be a model for the longest time. But I didn’t, because of you! Because every time I’d post a picture on my Instagram, you’d tell me it was because I love getting validation from strangers. Every time an agent reached out to me, you’d tell me how showing off my looks wasn’t going to be a long lasting career. You just never respected me or my aspirations. Because all of them were so beneath Mr. Intellectual.”

Renjun turns away. He pours himself another shot and downs it. He didn’t want a lecture. Who was she to show up like this and give him a lecture unprovoked? 

“If it weren’t for Jongin, I would’ve believed everything you ever said to me. That people would only like me for my looks. That what I wanted to do was superficial and shallow and that I would never amount to anything if I followed my heart.” she goes on and Renjun has had enough.

“Save it, Jimin. We’re broken up now, so what does it matter?” he doesn’t look at her. She could yell at him all she wanted. He wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

“I only came to you because I saw you drinking alone. And I know that’s not like you. I just wanted to see if you’re okay.” her voice has lowered significantly, but the agitation hasn’t left her tone. Renjun wonders if she has more to say, because he certainly doesn’t want to listen to any more.

“Well, that’s very kind of you, but I’m fine on my own.” he says coldly, still not looking at her.

Jimin sighs. “Renjun, when will you realize that the whole world isn’t out to get you? I know your family isn’t perfect. But you’ve got friends that care about you. You’ve got people around you that love you. If only you could stop being an asshole to them for one hot minute and see that.”

Renjun still doesn’t turn. Because she doesn’t know anything. She doesn’t know his life. She doesn’t know how alone he feels. She doesn’t know jackshit about what he goes through, what he has been going through. Who is she to comment on his life and stand there like that and lecture him? She didn’t know anything. Fuck her for making him feel like he was the asshole. The world was taking a giant dump on him, and she was making him feel like he was the asshole. Fuck that.

She grabs her purse and gets off the stool. “I’ve got to go now. I just hope you feel better. Whatever it is that you’re going through. Please don’t go through it alone, Renjun.” she says before she walks away.

Renjun feels a lump in his throat. How could he not go through it alone? Who was going to be by his side? No one. So what use were his tears? He wouldn’t let them fall. He swallows that lump away, and when it doesn’t work, he takes another shot. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He could just go home and sleep. Maybe that would work. The alcohol wasn’t numbing anything. It was just making him more bitter, but for more reasons than what he had come in with.

So he finds himself walking home. Putting one foot in front of the other. Breathing in and out. Keeping his heart beating.

He felt so alone. Was he the loneliest man in the world? He could bet money that he was. No one knew what he was going through. And that’s what made him feel most abandoned. But then again. Fuck that. He didn’t need anyone. What good were friends anyway? Friendships really meant nothing. Renjun finally realized that what he had were not friends, but connections. Because at the end of the day, that’s what this goddamn college life was all about. Making as many connections as you possibly could, so you could reap advantages from them later on life. All of his relationships were opportunistic. And realizing this was giving him the worst headache of his life. Like all the alcohol was thrumming in his head and blinding him.

He arrives at his doorstep, punches in his code, walks in and freezes at what he sees. 

Jeno, Jaemin, Jisung, Donghyuck, Zhong Chenle and you were all in the living room, drinking and eating and laughing. None of them had even noticed that Renjun had walked in. Because they were all too busy bellowing together. 

Suddenly, Renjun feels his blood boiling hot in his veins. How dare they. How dare they look like one big happy fucking family right in front of him. Renjun pushes back all emotions he’d been feeling and holds onto one: red hot burning anger. He heads in.

“Hey, hey! Look who’s finally back!” Donghyuck says mid-laughter as he finally notices him. “Come join us because Mark is passed out on your bed, by the way.” he laughs but his smile slowly fades as he watches Renjun’s expression. 

“You okay, man?” Jeno asks slowly.

The others slowly start reading his energy as well because his demeanor has gotten everyone’s attention. Renjun wants to pick a fight. He wants to fight with all of them for not being there for him. But he looks around for an easy target. Someone he can direct all his ruthless anger towards. And his eyes zero in on you.

“What are you doing here?” Renjun asks you urgently. Like you’ve done something wrong. 

“I just got you some food. We all thought we’d eat with you since you didn’t come to the party.” you say and you get up smiling and take Renjun’s wrist “Come, sit.”

But Renjun roughly snatches his hand away from your grip, making you look up suddenly. Your eyes are round, but you don’t look angry. You perhaps look shocked, but mostly concerned. And that makes Renjun want to hurt you more.

“You can’t just show up here unannounced. I didn’t invite you here.” Renjun spits at you.

“Hey man, easy. We invited her.” Donghyuck gets up and puts himself between the two of you. 

“Well, this is not your house, either! You can’t just invite her without asking me.” Renjun scowls at the boy.

“Renjun, I just got you some food. I just wanted to make sure you had eaten.” you say gently, stepping up from behind Donghyuck to speak to him.

“Y/N, you are not my girlfriend. So stop acting like it.” Renjun snaps and he finally watches the hurt he wanted to see on your face. He also sees Jisung’s scared expression and Jaemin’s disappointed one.

“I…” you begin “... I know… I just… I came here with the guys… I…” you begin, but Renjun yells again.

“You need to leave. You can’t just show up whenever you want.” Renjun continues and takes a step forward but Donghyuck holds a protective arm in front of you. Whoop-dee fucking doo. Now his friends thought he was some sort of a savage. 

“No, Y/N, you shouldn’t leave.” He says then turns to his friend. “Dude, what is your problem?” But Renjun keeps attacking you.

“These people are not your friends, okay? They are my friends. You’re crossing a line and you need to leave right now.” Renjun loves the reactions he’s getting. He loves that he has provoked every single person in the room. Because Jaemin has gotten up and taken your hand protectively whilst Jeno has joined Donghyuck in blocking you from his view.

“Hey, man. Easy.” Jeno warns. Jisung and Chenle watch this strange confrontation with worried looks on their faces, eyes darting between him and the others. Renjun can’t believe it. All his friends were protecting you. All of them. He was the fucking monster in this room, too. 

“Renjun, I just… I just came here to see you.” you say, but there’s no accusation in your tone. Just annoying, tiresome understanding. He fucking hates it and all his friends can see that he does.

After everything he had been through, after all his life was putting him through, he was the asshole, he was the monster once again. 

Well, then. If everyone thought him a monster, he should become it completely.

“Y/N.” Renjun laughs as he looks away. Then he looks at you with that sinister smile still on his face. “Y/N, the only reason I’ve kept you around for so long is because I wanted to get to your brother. So you can leave now.”

That did it. 

Because Donghyuck’s eyes have closed as he stands in front of you and Jeno’s eyes have widened. Jaemin just looks shocked as he holds onto your hand. As do Jisung and Chenle. But you.

Your face has hardened. He doesn’t see shock or disappointment or the kind of reaction that would’ve given him full satisfaction. He sees your stone face as you finally say something with a hint of venom in your tone.

“Well, in that case, Renjun, you’ve been wasting your time. Because I got you a slot with my brother right after our first date.”

Renjun stands speechless. 

He would’ve remained speechless if you hadn’t pushed past Jeno and him and headed straight for the door.

“Y/N!” Donghyuck calls out and goes after you. Renjun watches the others. Jaemin and Jisung have looked away and he sees nothing but pure disappointment on their faces. Jeno, on the other hand, is looking straight at him. Renjun looks back. Good. He wants everyone to hate him. This was exactly right. 

He hears Donghyuck barge back into the apartment as the door bangs shut behind him. 

“Dude what the fuck is wrong with you?!” He yells and Renjun finds himself shoving the boy, pushing him so he wasn’t in his space.

“What’s wrong with me? Please, Donghyuck. Don’t even pretend like you haven’t been using her the same way I’ve been. You’re not any better.” Renjun punctuates the last bit with another shove and Donghyuck grabs at his collar and roughly pulls him by it. Before it can escalate, Jeno and Jaemin rush forward to break the two of them apart. Jeno grabs onto Renjun, Jaemin onto Donghyuck, prying him off and creating some distance between the two. Jisung and Chenle look from the couch, mouths hanging open, visibly distressed.

“You didn’t have to do that, man. You didn’t have to be an asshole to her.” Donghyuck accuses as he tries to free himself from Jaemin’s grip and come face to face with Renjun again.

Renjun laughs bitterly. “Well, now that I have been, you can have her. Live your happy fucking life.” Renjun spits at him and he gets the reaction he was looking for because it makes Donghyuck lunge at him once again, making Jaemin tighten his grip and pull him back.

“What is wrong with you? You fucking asshole! Why do you think everyone’s out to get you? Stop acting like a little bitch and start acting like a man for once!” Donghyuck shouts and that does it. 

Renjun feels his headache blinding him. And yet, he doesn’t know how he frees himself from Jeno’s grip. But before he knows it, he has balled his hand into a fist and aimed it straight for Donghyuck’s face.

Copyright © 2021 NeoCultureTravesty. All rights reserved.

[stewy]

Excerpts from Yoko's 'Revolution Chaos' tape (4 June 1968)

This is mostly for my own organization, but I thought people might find it interesting. I can't find the actual tape (I think it was removed from YT because I once heard it there), but here is the full transcript. They couldn't actually hear her, btw. She seemed to be on the back of the studio with a tape recorder on, while they were recording Revolution 1. Trigger warning for psychoanalyzing John Lennon's handwriting!

Andy Warhol and Mario Meyer shot today in New York, I’m so glad that I wasn’t there. Because I would like to be there if I were in New York, oh, but that’s something that I should tell John, it’s so funny Mario used to, because he’s a f*g, I guess I don’t know what it is, but anyway he was very, I think he’s a real f*g, as much as he could as a f*g, I think terribly interested in me and all that so what he does is he would just sort of like touch me on the neck or like on my back or something like that or sort of scratch my arm or something like that when I’m talking to somebody.

***

John: Can you think of anything else?

Paul: No. Just. . .

J: Oh yeah, that’s the end.

P: Yeah, just organ and drums.

J: Should we just tape this?

Y: I wish John was in me right now, inside of me. [...] So, I was just thinking about it. It’s so important that you come inside me, instead of coming in my head or something. You see, and then you say that there’s no difference, but if you understand the difference of that, that’s when you would really start to understand what it means to love somebody it sort of occurred to me that . . . and the other thing is sex, in other words, like just physical sex senses, that the sensual things, but this bed is like all life reaching, reaching each other and giving something. And the fact that you gave me your sperm, I don’t know, probably. At some time of your life you had a situation where you became scared of a straight relationship, of giving to each other and instead of giving to women, you’d rather spit on the sky or shoot it to the sky kind of thing. I mean you said it, that’s like a strange kind of nihilism of kind of a “fuck you all” kind of thing. It’s avoiding, avoiding something. Avoiding communication. It’s like you don’t want to.

***

[...] Nothing that I notice today that I really feel proud of, is that for instance, your handwriting, it’s always been like, all your letters were going backwards, leaning backwards, which means tremendous insecurity (for fuck's sake). But today I’ve seen, that all your letters were leaning forward, not all, but most of them were sort of leaning forward. At least that you’re suddenly starting to, instead of being reticent, starting to become forward and aggressive. Which is like a very normal thing, for men. Their leaning backwards handwriting is typical of, sort of, insecure, terribly insecure high school girl or something like that. It’s very rare to see it in a man, did you know that? And when I saw, when I first saw your handwriting, I was really amazed ‘cause you very rarely see that in a man. And I always felt that I saw your secret there, in something, but now, it’s starting to change, and it’s beautiful. Why, why that insecurity? And the passiveness, paranoia, I hate to say, but I really think that that had a lot to do with, with her, your marriage. Or maybe you were like that, and that’s how your marriage became that. I don’t know, that seems like a long relationship like that, would really screw somebody up. Like I was screwed up. That it could screw up, screw people up, rather. Then again, it could be a good thing. But anyway that handwriting, and your marriage, somehow I felt that sort of an intuitive thing, the first time I saw it, I thought that there was a definite connection.

J: What are you saying?

Y: I’m just saying how I miss you.

J: Well, ladies and gentleman, I also miss her, and it’s a terrible feeling. Alone in a crowded room.

Y: You look so nice when you’ve been playing awhile, and perspiring and everything. It’s looks like you had a drink or something . . . so insecure about something and about. . .

***

Y: [...] And it’s silly because actually all I want to do is to just not say anything. Oh, John, I really miss you, you don’t know how. [singing begins] I don’t know you...

J: Smashing Rooney the steak.

Y: ‘Cause I don’t know you.

J: Oh, no it is too late for me.

Y: ‘Cause I don’t know you.

J: I have been stab-bed in the brass vertebrae.

Y: Who did that?

J: I did it myself.

Y: Don’t you ever do that.

J: I must do it now and then to keep myself in tune.

Y: No, you mustn’t do anything without me.

J: I wasn’t exactly doing it without you. I was just doing it in the corner. Oh, Mother McRae. Excuse me. I must just let myself reek a minute. Because I’m sweating to my boots I’m going to have a look at the photographs of the family. [end of singing]

***

[Insert quote about Paul being a threat had he been a woman, etc, Air signs, etc]

***

John is such a genius. This is the first time that just once in a while, I almost get jealous of his talent, which is really amazing because I was never jealous of any artist. Whenever I get sad about his work, I almost feel like kneeling down and kissing his feet.

[...] you look like a real nervous wreck. You’re a very nervous person, apparently. You looked that way, suddenly I remembered you looked that way when I first came to EMI to pick up some scores, I mean, a manuscript from you, you looked like somebody who was terribly nervous and difficult, and feel like a difficult artist or something. If I had seen you that way, probably, I’d be scared, if I didn’t know you, and all that, if I just meet you that way. I wonder what John really is thinking about. You really look like a tense, nervous person. Why do you look so difficult? Like as if you want to scare a guy or something, I think that’s amazing. Anybody who has some project in their mind to approach you with or something would really be scared with that look. But it’s kind of nice, it’s very masculine [cut] or something. I don’t know how you have that shift of character of very sharp, strong eyes and sometimes very soft and beautiful eyes. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m following you too much. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m looking at you too much and so I haste to go near you. Right now you’re in the other room, and I’m just sort of embarrassed, and I don’t know if I should be coming or not. But you’re in my mind all the time, so I guess that’s what it is. You look so intense. And maybe you’re angry or something with me, I don’t know. So I’m afraid to go near you now.

***

[...] I’m so nervous now because I’m always trying to find out when Cyn is coming back.

P: Jot the melody down.

GM: Can you hear me?

Y: I feel like running out of this room. This is Tuesday, sixth of June, 1968. If anybody in the world would know how I feel now, because I’m the most insecure person in the world right now. Is this what love is? It’s so unfair that you have to suffer so much for loving someone. John is not here, he went out into the hall. I don’t know for what. He’s out for a long time. I think probably he’s calling home, I don’t know. He’s been with her for over a decade and their other child, I don’t know what to make of it. I don’t want to think about it. It’s either that he had a terribly weak character or he was in love to her (well, I'm glad they decided to go with the weak character version! How dare John be in love with anyone but Yoko?). I just don’t want to think about it. I’ve never been with anyone for so long so I wouldn’t know. If I think very hard, then I know, I mean I don’t even think I have to think hard, I just get so jealous about it I almost think I’m going to go insane.

(RIP to your mental health if you read all that, really, I'm so sorry)

[morganaspendragonss]

hiya. could you write a fic where tk has a panic attack from carlos’s pov? 😘🧡

i can indeed! this is combined with an idea jamie ( @silvarafael ) had and very kindly allowed me to write - i hope you both enjoy! the first section is also based on a vague idea i had after watching the ep.

ao3 | 1.9k | 2.10 spoilers

TK is silent the entire drive home, choosing instead to stare out the window with his jaw firmly clenched, his hands making fists in his lap. The silence extends all the way into the house, right up until the point when he flops down on the couch with a loud, frustrated sigh, burying his head in his hands. 

At this point, Carlos knows not to push when TK is like this; he’ll talk when he wants to, and not a moment before. So he simply walks over, sitting next to him and placing a hand on TK’s back, rubbing gentle circles. TK slowly relaxes under his touch, unfurling his body, and Carlos is all too happy to let him shift into his arms, holding on and pressing kisses on the top of his head.

I’m here, he’s saying - not with words, but he knows the message gets across regardless. It may have only been less than a year since they started dating, but already they don’t always need words to communicate.

“I’m sorry if you were uncomfortable back there,” TK says suddenly. “I know my dad kind of dragged you into it all, and that must have been awkward for you.”

“It wasn’t my favourite interaction with your dad ever,” he admits.

TK snorts. “Understatement,” he mutters, and Carlos laughs, tilting his head in agreement. “I am sorry, though, really,” TK continues. “It was amazing of you to even be there; you didn’t have to be. I’m sure there are hundreds of places you’d rather be than an intervention session for my dad.”

“You mean supporting my boyfriend through something difficult and important?” Carlos corrects gently, shifting to catch TK’s eyes. “Because there’s nowhere I’d rather be than there.”

TK blinks at him, managing to hold his gaze for all of two seconds before he blushes and looks away. He takes Carlos’s hand, tapping restlessly on the back of it - a sure-fire sign he’s still worked up about something, so Carlos leaves him be, waiting for it to come out.

“Is it bad that I’m pissed at him?” TK’s voice is quiet, small, and it’s mirrored in his body language when he turns to Carlos, drawing his legs up and hunching his shoulders. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to connect with him, and it just feels like he’s constantly throwing it all right back in my face. And he’s… He’s such a fucking hypocrite. Ever since my first overdose, he’s been going on and on about how good it is to talk about my feelings and how I shouldn’t keep things bottled up, yet he insists on hiding this shit from me.”

TK laughs, short, sharp, bordering on hysterical. “He didn’t even tell me when he was fucking dying; I had to find that out by myself. And I’ve tried. I haven’t stopped trying.” He deflates, sinking back into Carlos with a defeated sigh. “But there’s only so much I can take, you know? I can’t… I can’t keep doing this, Carlos.”

Carlos’s heart breaks for his boyfriend. He wishes he could take the pain away; as it is, all he can do is hold him, and hope that he has enough words to at least dull the ache somewhat.

“It’s not bad to feel what you feel, TK.”

TK looks up at him, eyes wide. “You don’t think so?”

He shakes his head, kissing him again. “No. I think… I think your dad has treated you pretty unfairly, actually, and you’re well within your rights to be mad at him right now. But, I also think that you said it yourself; there’s only so much you can do. Before you can take care of your dad, you have to take care of yourself, and you can’t do that if you’re worrying over him.”

If TK’s eyes were any wider, it’d be comical. “But -”

“No buts.” Carlos smiles tightly, keeping his tone gentle. “TK, babe, you just led an intervention into your dad’s mental health, which I know was hard for you, yet you did it anyway because you love him. You tried, but if he doesn’t want to engage, then there’s nothing you can do.”

TK is silent for a long time, staring down at his lap. He’s still holding Carlos’s hand in one of his own, but his free hand is rubbing the material of Carlos’s shirt between his fingers; Carlos doubts he’s even fully aware he’s doing it.

“I know that,” he says eventually, voice little more than a whisper. “I do. I just wish he wasn’t so goddamn stubborn all the time.”

Carlos’s lips quirk up in a smile, and he speaks before he can stop himself. “Guess it runs in the family.”

TK stares at him, open-mouthed, and Carlos immediately regrets his words. He’s halfway through an apology when it’s like a dam breaks, and TK breaks out in giggles, his head thumping against Carlos’s chest.

“You’re lucky I love you, Reyes.”

Carlos grins and pulls TK as close to him as physically possible. “I really am.”

*

The call comes early the next morning, waking both of them up. TK grumbles as he smacks his hand against the nightstand in a blind search for his phone; the sight would be adorable if Carlos weren’t so tired himself. After the exhaustion of the past few days, he’d been desperately hoping to have a peaceful morning for once, maybe even - god forbid - to spend some quality time with his boyfriend without the threat of parents or work or sudden emergencies hanging over them. 

Clearly, though, it’s not to be, as TK suddenly sits bolt upright in bed, all traces of sleep gone.

“We’ll be there as soon as we can,” he promises to whoever’s on the other end, before lowering the phone and turning to stare at Carlos, terror obvious in his eyes. 

“TK?” Carlos asks when he doesn’t speak, sitting up and slowly reaching out for him. TK startles at the contact, but quickly leans into it, covering Carlos’s hand with his own.

He swallows once, twice. “Buttercup’s sick,” he whispers. “Dad had to rush him to the vet’s. Carlos, what if… What if…”

He trails off, shaking his head viciously, as though he can erase the thought from his mind. Carlos quickly moves to steady him, stroking his thumbs across his cheekbones to calm him down.

“Let’s get dressed, okay?” he says, knowing reassurances won’t mean a thing right now. “Then we’ll go, and we’ll know more.”

TK just nods, quiet as they go through the motions of getting ready. Carlos makes sure to press an apple into his hand before they head out; he knows it will likely go uneaten, but it’s the only choice he has, given he knows that TK will refuse to stop for breakfast without finding out about Buttercup first.

If the drive back from Owen’s yesterday was silent, today’s is far worse. TK’s hands are constantly moving in Carlos’s periphery, alternating between fiddling with his apple, tugging on his clothes and hair, and rubbing at his face. On the rare occasion he does try to stay still, his hands end up twitching in his lap, followed by a sudden burst of anxious movement before falling back into some semblance of a pattern.

Carlos presses his lips into a firm line, accelerating more than is technically legal; at any other time he’d make a joke about how TK’s turning him into a criminal.

They’re forced to stop at a traffic light, and Carlos curses under his breath, getting jittery himself as the drive extends. He turns to check on TK, then curses again at the sight of his boyfriend’s pale face, his wide eyes and trembling body. TK gasps, then again and again, a hand going to his chest, and Carlos knows what this is. 

A panic attack, but the second he reaches to help, the lights change and he’s forced to keep driving. He keeps one eye on TK the whole time, heart beating faster as he seems to get worse, and he’s thankful when he spots an opportunity to pull over, taking it immediately.

TK stares, shaking his head frantically and gesturing in a motion that Carlos takes to mean keep driving. His mouth opens and closes but he can’t form words, breaths coming short and fast. He folds in on himself when they stop, eyes closed and forehead almost touching his knees as his body heaves and shakes.

Carlos unbuckles himself and shifts as close as he can, placing one hand on TK’s back and taking his hand in the other, rubbing circles on the back of it with his thumb. He’s had to do this a few times over the course of their relationship, shootings and kidnappings and disasters taking their toll on his boyfriend.

But that doesn’t make it any less difficult.

“You’re going to be okay,” Carlos says, pushing his own fears aside. “Just breathe slowly, in and out, that’s it; it’ll be over soon, I promise.”

He keeps it up, murmuring assurances he barely registers himself until the shaking lessens and TK’s breath slowly but surely begins to even out. He straightens in his seat, eyes still closed, and leans his head against the headrest. 

Carlos pulls back, giving him a moment before he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

TK shakes his head, then immediately changes his mind and nods. Still, it takes him a few seconds to speak. “What if it’s the cancer, Carlos?” he asks, peeling his eyes open, despair written all over his features. “He could - He could die, he could be dying right this second, and I don’t know if I can handle that, not after everything else.”

“I know,” Carlos says. “You just have to remember that we don’t know anything yet, and you have to believe that Buttercup will be fine until we do know more. We’ll take it from there, and if it is the cancer - which, yes, it might be - then we’ll all be around to support each other. Buttercup’s strong, though, I’m sure he’ll fight whatever this is with everything he has. He’ll be fine.”

Carlos smiles, noticing how TK is pretty much hanging onto every word he says. He takes a deep breath, briefly looking away before continuing, “As will your dad.”

TK frowns. “Who said anything about my dad?”

“TK.”

He sighs, hanging his head. “You’re right,” he admits, “this is a little bit about my dad. The longer he puts off this surgery, the more scared I get that the cancer will come back and we won’t get as lucky this time. I know it’s stupid, and I know I should be focused on Buttercup right now, but…”

“But,” Carlos agrees, reaching out and squeezing TK’s hand. “It’s okay, and it’s not stupid at all, I promise you. Let’s just take this one thing at a time, okay? First, we’ll get to the vet’s and find out how Buttercup is, and then we’ll see about having another conversation with your dad - maybe telling him what you’ve told me?”

TK exhales shakily, then nods. “Okay. Okay.”

Carlos gives him a small smile, squeezing his hand once more before shifting back in his seat to keep driving. “I’ll be right by your side,” he can’t help but say. He’s sure TK already knows, but the reminder can’t hurt, especially after what just happened.

TK stays quiet, but Carlos doesn’t miss the mumbled, “I don’t deserve you,” from the passenger seat. 

“Wrong,” he replies, eyes on the road. “You deserve the world.”

And, in his periphery, TK smiles.

[my-emotional-self]

Toxic Love Chapter 2

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Finding out your soulmates were Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes was one thing.  But when someone from your past comes back to haunt you, you have to figure out if a relationship with two super soldiers is something you really want to pursue or if you’d rather go back to your comfortable single life.

Series Warnings:  18+, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, past mentions of rape, self-harm, attempted rape, domestic violence, stalking, death threats, possible Dark!Steve?, Steve will be an asshole a LOT in this series but I don’t know how dark it will get, explicit sexual content, mental health issues, kind of A/B/O dynamics but not really (no they are not actual wolves, more like the hierarchy)

A/N: There will be no taglist for this story!  I apologize in advance!

So it was true.  Confirmed.  Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were your soulmates.  Not that it bothered you much, it just wasn’t something you were planning on happening.  Things didn’t end too good with your last, well, and only, boyfriend.  Not ending good meaning he was in prison, at the moment. You weren’t sure when he was going to be getting out.  

Looking down at your arm, you lightly traced your finger over Steve and Bucky’s mark.  Here is the thing about your soulmate marks. Everyone has soulmate marks, at least two; yours and your soulmates.  But sometimes there are more and everyone has an ‘order’ for their marks. Think of it as a hierarchy.  The mark in top is in charge, kind of like the ‘alpha’ of the relationship while the mark at the bottom is at the bottom of the hierarchy.  It would make sense that Steve’s mark was on the top.  Hell, he was Captain America after all.  It just was the way it was and nobody complained about it.

There was also another unique trait to finding your soulmates, at least what you’ve read about. Once you find your soulmate, or in your case, soulmates, slowly you can begin to feel each other, kind of like a sixth sense or intuition.  You’d never known anyone who could actually be able to do this and you didn’t know if there had to be somewhat of a strong bond between soulmates, but you always thought that was pretty cool.  Like if something ever bad happened to you, maybe you soulmates could sense your fear. But then again, maybe that was just a fairytale.  

Lost again in your own mind, like you always were when Steve’s rough voice brought you back to the present. “Let’s sit down and talk,” he bellowed.

On shaky feet you followed him towards the couches and sat down.  Steve stood on the other side of the coffee table, his thick arms crossed in front of his chest.  Your eyes roamed over his form, mouth going dry at the sight of him.  The scowl on his face nearly made you coil back, as if his look burned you.  You were unsure why he looked so pissed, so angry and you didn’t know if you wanted to figure it out or not.  The biggest thought weighing on your mind was if you wanted to go through with a relationship at all right now, even if they were your soulmates.  

The couch dipped next to you and you couldn’t help but return Bucky’s smile.  Something about his smile made him look innocent, angelic, but you knew he was far from that.  Oh yes, you heard all about the Winter Soldier and everything those Hydra bastards did to him.  But you also knew that he was better now, he was an Avenger, fighting for the right side.

“So,” you began to say, the silence and tension thick in the air as you stared down at the ground.  

“What’s your name?” Steve barked out, causing you to jump slightly.  

A rough yet gently hand was placed at your back and you quickly realized it was Bucky’s.  “Jesus Stevie, can you be any more of an asshole right now?” came Bucky’s reply as his hand soothed up and down your back.  

He was right, Steve was being an asshole, but it was nothing, absolutely nothing compared to your ex-boyfriend.  This was a cake walk compared to him.  “Y/N, my name is Y/N,” you replied as confidentially as you could, trying to show Steve that you weren’t afraid of him or scared of his intimidating tactics.  

“Well Y/N, I’m Steve and that’s Bucky but I’m guessing you already knew that,” he replied, letting out a huff of annoyance as he looked at his watch.  “Look, I don’t have a lot of time for this right now so let’s just get to the basics,” he began.  “This is mine and Bucky’s living quarters.  There is another bedroom down the hallway if you want to move in. There is a communal kitchen and living room a few floors down that we all share, including the other soulmates. Most of the time we all eat together when possible and do movie nights at least once a week in the communal area. If you want to move in, you will also have a hobby room on the communal floor just like everybody else.  So what do you say?”

Well, it wasn’t the best speech you’ve ever heard from someone trying to get you to move in with them. Hell, your ex-boyfriend wooed you with flowers and romance for months before you finally gave in.  But this wasn’t your ex-boyfriend.  This was your soulmate, both of them, but you were still unsure.  Your own apartment was calling your name, wanting you to come back to the safety and comfort that was your home.  Did you really want to just up and move in with your soulmates?  Most people did once they met their soulmates, but you were still teetering on the fence.  This was the Avengers Tower after all and what place could possibly be more safe than that?

“Umm, can I…can I think about it?” you questioned, eyes slowly glancing up to meet Steve’s.

His large hands were on his narrow hips, his mouth in a tight line.  “Fine.  Do what you need to do.  I have to get back to work.”  And with that being said, he marched over to the elevator and slammed the button.  

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when Steve disappeared into the elevator, leaving you alone with Bucky.  

“Come on doll, I’ll bring you home,” he spoke with a soft voice.  

Looking to him, you smiled. “Thanks Bucky, but you don’t have to. I only live about a mile away.”

His whole body shook with a quiet laugh.  “I don’t think so.  No soulmate of mine is going to be walking the streets of New York at dark.”

~~~

The walk home was nice. Bucky was a gentleman as you asked him questions about his life growing up and being with Steve.  As it turns out, Steve and Bucky weren’t lovers, just best friends, more like brothers.  You felt embarrassed after you found that out, assuming they were together, but he reassured you it was fine and that it happens all the time.  You always assumed if there was more than one soulmate, everyone was together intimately, but now you knew that wasn’t the case.  Those with multiple soulmates didn’t mean everyone was intimate.  They could be a brother figure, a mother or father figure, or just best friends.  But you had a feeling that wasn’t going to be the case with you if you decided to give this relationship a try.  No, you could feel deep inside that things would be intimate with both men.  

“I don’t think Steve likes me very much,” you blurted out like word vomit.  

Bucky sighed next to you as the two of you stopped in front of your door.  “I know Steve wasn’t on his best behavior tonight and I apologize for that.  He’s been stressed because he keeps getting new leads about someone but it keeps falling through.  Steve can be an asshole, but he isn’t normally like that.  It was just bad timing is all.  Please be open minded about this and give it a few days.  Why don’t you come back to the tower on Friday night and we can discuss what you decide?”

Friday night was two days away.  Two days to think about everything.  “I think I can manage that,” you agreed with a small grin.  

Bucky smiled back, giving you a nod and wishing you a good night.  

In the safety of your apartment, the first thing you did was grab a glass of water and dig your medications out of your purse.  Placing the pills in your mouth, you swallowed a gulp of water and sighed in relief.

The next thing you did was take off your clothes and get into your comfies; a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt, your favorite combination.  

Lastly, you dropped onto your bed and stared at the ceiling, contemplating what you were going to do. Yes, Steve was being a douche bag tonight, but you could handle that.  Words and attitude were easy to deal with as your ex-boyfriend was that way. But that wasn’t all.  He had turned into a violent monster and you were lucky to get out when you did; you knew for a fact you wouldn’t be alive today if you were still with him.  

So yes, you caught Steve at a bad time and he was a douchebag, but you would give him the benefit of the doubt.  Not the greatest first impression but you could get over it.  

At the same time, is a relationship, not just with one person but two, something you were really ready for?  You rather enjoyed your single life.  Going to bed when you wanted and staying up as late as you could.  There were usually rules that were enforced when it came to soulmates, especially if you were at the bottom.  Usually the ‘alpha’ of the relationship had rules they wanted their soulmate to oblige and you didn’t know how stern those rules could be.  But you hoped you could also compromise those rules if needed.  

Just then, a sheet of paper slid under your door and you rolled your eyes.  You knew what it was before you even got out of bed to grab it.

Taking the paper in your hands, you went back to your bed and opened the note.  

Payback is a bitch.  Just like you.  Ready or not, here I come babe.

-J

Rolling your eyes, you dug beneath your bed and pulled out a small box.  Inside the box sat 15 other notes just like the one you received.  It was from your ex.  John was still in prison, this much you knew, so it was a friend of his dropping it off.  But you knew you were safe, for the time being, as long as John was in prison.  He was too proud to let anyone else do the damage he had done to you.  Oh yes, he liked to do it himself and you knew he wouldn’t let anyone else hurt you, except for him.  

You had gone to the police about the notes, but because there was no actual evidence and he was still in prison, nothing could be done about it.  

As you looked over the multiple notes with the same kind of threats on each, you thought maybe perhaps it would be a good idea to move into the Avengers Tower.  At least you would stop getting these threats….right?

[beyondspaceandstars]

While You Sleep

Chapter 17

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: angst, mental health discussion Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

You had no idea where Bucky was taking you. All you did know was that he was gripping your hand tightly and walking slightly faster than you, say, the average human would be used to. He was feeling a lot, you could tell. A million little things going off in that head of his. You wanted to know them all to try to ease them. You wanted to help him again as he had helped you these past few weeks. 

But he wasn’t giving you a chance. Right now, the only thing he was outwardly focusing on was dinner. Whatever this dinner was going to actually entail. 

You almost couldn’t believe it when he finally came to a stop. Your eyes got wide as you read the restaurant name. You lowered your gaze quickly to look in at the familiar decor and seating. 

It’s where you two had met. Where you had that first date. The night you began to consider that maybe the nightmares had been a blessing, not a curse. You wished you still had that attitude. 

“This is where you want to eat?” You asked.

Bucky shrugged. “Brings back good memories.” 

With nothing much else left to say, Bucky guided you into the restaurant. He asked for a table for two and by some weird luck from Fate, you two were seated at a very familiar table. In very familiar seats. All that was missing was a proud-looking Steve to make some smart remarks. Oh, Steve… You worried about what he would think of this situation. 

“You gonna get the salad again?” Bucky asked. His voice was almost on the lighter side, easing some of your concerns - at least, for the time being. You chuckled. 

“Is that really what I got on our first date?” You sighed. “How cliche of me.”

“You were nervous. I was nervous,” Bucky admitted. His eyes danced around the menu. “Hell, I’m still nervous.”

Slowly, you pushed your menu aside, already having settled on the salad again (don’t wanna get too crazy), and reached for Bucky’s hand. He was shaking just ever so slightly.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, your thumb drawing mindless patterns on the back of his hand. He gripped yours tighter, giving a little nod.

Soon after that, the waitress stopped by and took your drink and meal orders. Everything was pretty much cookie-cutter from your first trip here. Bucky with his burger, you with your salad. Both indulge in some ice water. You almost wanted to make a comment about the chicken nuggets, but Bucky looked way too all over the place for much more banter. He let go of your hand, sadly.

Bucky suddenly spoke your name like it was breaking his heart with every syllable. Your eyes perked up. “What are we going to do?” He asked. 

You shifted your gaze quickly. “You heard what Bruce suggested.”

“There has to be something more we can do.”

“He seemed pretty dead set on it,” you sighed. “He’s the expert, Buck.”

“Well, maybe we need to get a second opinion from whoever he was talking about-,”

Your eyes fell on him once more. “Bucky, what’s going on?”

Now Bucky was the one looking away. Your waitress awkwardly placed your meals in their respective spots. Neither of you moved.

“I don’t know if I can give it up.”

“Wh-What?”

Bucky ran his hand through his hair frustratingly. “I always thought that’d be what I wanted, to just stop. No more fighting, no more missions, no more… Anything. Just live a normal life as I should’ve all those years ago.” He let out an exaggerated breath. “But now that it’s actually a possibility, the thought of giving up everything I’ve known is daunting.”

You felt your eyes beginning to water. You dug your nails into your hand trying not to explode in the restaurant. “Bucky, come on. This could help me so much, you know? Please tell me you realize that because right now it looks like you don’t… you don’t care that I’ve suffered.”

“Sweetheart, please, I-I get that. I really do.” Bucky tried reaching for your hand upon seeing how tense they were but you quickly pulled away. “It’s just… What if I can’t do it? What if I can’t cope and then, sure, the nightmares stop but you lose me.”

“Lose you?”

“What if I don’t adapt?” 

The question hung over the table eerily. You didn't really know the answer to this. You hadn’t thought this was going to be something that needed a whole conversation on. In your mind, it was so simple: Bucky gives up missions, the nightmares stop, you two live happily ever after. You never thought there’d be a chance he’d be too nervous to retire. Too concerned about himself, his mind. You had seen him so strong going against the organization that terrorized him. But there was a distraction. An ulterior motive. You. 

He had distractions galore, you just being the newest addition, and giving up work would put him in the unknown. 

“You don’t think you can just exist as a civilian.”

“Possibly,” he confirmed. You closed your eyes, trying to center yourself. Your anger was slowly subsiding as you tried to understand.

With shaky breaths, you dared to ask, “You can’t even try for me?”

As you slowly opened your eyes, you thought Bucky looked like he had been slapped. The surprised yet uncertain reaction he wore made you wonder what you were getting yourself into. What you had been getting yourself into.

But as fast as all those emotions ran across Bucky’s face, he quickly pulled himself out of it. It was like he was suddenly aware of what was going on. What point you two were at here. You felt a slight pull from within you.

He shook his head. “I’m going to have to, aren’t I?”

You sighed, realizing the position you had now put him in. There was almost no winning in this situation, huh? “No, Bucky. Not if you don’t want to. I’m sorry, I’m making this all about me.” 

With shaky hands, you tried stabbing at your salad but your appetite had suddenly gone missing. You wanted to push the whole thing off the table and storm away, completely lost in your anger over the hand you had been dealt. Everyone else got happy, exciting lives with their soulmate - why couldn’t that be the case for you and Bucky?

Bucky gave you a weak smile, his eyes softer at your apology. “I think you’re entitled to do so given…everything.”

“It’s just… This isn’t fair. None of this is fair. Neither of us should have to give up anything to just have a life together.”

Bucky picked at his french fries. “I’ll try, doll. We’ll go to Steve later, let him know.”

“A-Are you sure?” It felt maybe too good to be true. But Bucky nodded, fairly confidently. 

“You’re right, the situation is not fair. But I have a chance to maybe make it a little better.” His voice cracked ever so slightly. “We both deserve a life together.”

You nodded, your heart filling with optimism, something you don’t think you felt so presently since your first time in this restaurant. Close to a full-circle moment, you declared. “Do you think Steve will be okay with this?”

“It was recommended by Bruce. Doctor’s orders, literally,” Bucky chuckled. “Besides, he’s my best friend. He’ll understand.”

***

“I don’t understand.”

Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise. You shifted uncomfortably beside him. “About retirement or…”

“No, no,” Steve shook his head, waving a hand in dismissal. “You could’ve walked away at any point before this, Buck. I mean about the nightmares. I thought they would’ve gone away.”

You both let out sighs of relief. Leave it to Steve to fumble that one. He had seemed a bit different when you entered the room like something was on his mind. Neither of you asked him about it but you knew Bucky would grill him eventually. Especially after that misunderstanding. 

You had been pretty much dreading this conversation as just a while ago you were nervous about what Steve would think. He had been such a key player in this arrangement, having only the best intentions the world wasn’t aligning with. You knew he was always concerned about the nightmares so it must’ve been a bit unsettling to hear improvement wasn’t exactly linear. 

“Bruce discovered our bond has been tampered with,” Bucky explained. It was as simple as anyone could put it and you were actually thankful for that. You grabbed Bucky’s hand, he accepted. 

“A tampered bond?” Steve shook his head. “I’ve never heard of anything like that before. What caused-,”

The words died on Steve’s lips as he saw the dark look that came over Bucky’s face. There was no need to speak of it anymore. Steve nodded in a silent understanding.

He changed the subject, “Well, I think it’s very brave of you, Buck, to want to step away.”

“Thank you-,”

“But this was passed along to me today.” Steve tossed a folder on the table. You didn’t miss the way Bucky tensed in your arms as he stared at the government emblem embossed into the waxy paper. You waited, hopeful, for how Bucky would approach this.

Bucky began shaking his head slowly. “I just got done saying-,”

“You know this isn’t under my control,” Steve said. Hell, even you knew that and this wasn’t anywhere near to what you did for a living. No government orders were coming down about coffee. 

“Why me?” He asked just above a whisper.

Steve crossed his arms, frowning like a man holding the secret of the universe. He ignored Bucky’s initial question. “They said you needed to be included. I glanced over it and it honestly doesn’t look too complicated. I’m still working out who will all be on the team. I just know, well, you’re on it.” He sighed and glanced down. “The government thinks it’s the least you can do given your...history.”

Bucky scoffed but didn’t try to defend himself. Something in your heart snapped at that. He dropped your hand and reached for the folder. You tried looking over information but everything was just jumbled nonsense to you. It probably didn’t help that you were suddenly crying. Neither of the men had noticed but you felt the tears hitting your cheeks. You saw the way your vision was getting blurred. Just one more time, you told yourself as some sort of self-soothing affirmation bullshit. You needed to book a therapy session, stat. 

“Fine,” Bucky agreed without so much as looking at you. But why would he? What were you going to do? This was outside the realm of anyone in the room but that didn’t mean it didn’t absolutely cut you up inside. 

All you could do was hope. Once again, some fueling from good old-fashioned hope was going to get you through it. Hope that the mission will go smoothly. Hope that he'll come back in one piece. Hope that this wouldn’t be a distraction for you to just get whisked away again (you doubted, but hey, life got funny). 

You had one tragedy creeping into your brain every night. You didn’t need another one on top of it. You wanted to communicate this to Bucky but you believed he already had some idea of it by the way his eyes overanalyzed every word on the file’s pages. 

Just this one. The words were unsung but well present in the room. You felt like the world was never going to let you catch a break as Bucky took your hand and began leading you out of the compound, still not looking at you.

[bbysamu]

Drunk

⭑ part III ⭑

part I, part II 

⭑ Song: Drunk by Keshi

⭑ Warning: Minor angst, mentions of cheating 

⭑ Pairing: Oikawa  x f!reader ; Tsukishima x f!reader 

(a/n: Thank you all for the unbelievable support for my first series, you guys give me the motivation to continue writing. Please enjoy part 3!) 

Tag list (by request - thank you all for your support): @nachotrash; @whateverfeelz; @semhal​

That day at Starbucks brought (Y/N) and Oikawa closer. He did not rush her, but stayed patiently next to her until she slowly opened herself to him. She shared with him her deepest secrets and thoughts, the detrimental consequences of her father’s affair on her entire family and her mental health. Her relationship with Tsukishima, who pursued her relentlessly the first day they met and how she was on cloud 9 when Tsukki promised her he would never be like her father. Through every chat, every conversation, Oikawa felt himself love (Y/N) even more. He smiled when she smiled. His heart skipped a beat when he hears her laughter. His heart broken and body trembled with anger as tears stained her face as she described her father and ex-boyfriend’s affair. Oikawa has never felt this way before, sure he was a pretty empathetic person, but this was beyond mere empathy. Perhaps deep down in his soul, he knew the girl sitting in front right now, talking animatedly about this new song she found on her Spotify, was his soul mate, the one God had prepared for him. 

For (Y/N), that empty space Tsukki left her with was slowly starting to be filled up Oikawa. The pretty captain was determined to not just be a bandaid for her heartache, but to become her whole heart and after months, she thinks she’s ready for him to do that. 

Interhigh Tournament 

Despite their first game being in the afternoon, Tsukishima and a few of the Karasuno boys decided to head to the tournament early to check out the other teams. Taking a seat in the stand, the team decided to watch the match between Aoba Johsai and Johzenji. Aoba Johsai was doing very well, despite the minor setbacks in the beginning, the powerhouse quickly adapted to Johzenji’s interesting way of playing. 

*beeeepppp* the whistled signaled a Seijoh’s victory. Tsukki watched the team huddle around as the coach gave them some encouragements. A familiar figure emerged holding some water bottles, distributing them to the team. He watched as the first years shyly thanked (Y/N) and the pretty captain looped an arm around her waist and kissed her on the cheeks. Despite being so far away, Tsukki could see the love radiating off both (Y/N) and Oikawa. Tsukki stopped breathing for a second. 

He watched as (Y/N) tucked her hair behind her ears, laughing as her boyfriend whined while their friends teased him about his flat butt. He watched as Oikawa looked at (Y/N), eyes filled with so much love and pulled her into a side hug. He watched and he couldn’t stop. Yamaguchi noticed how quiet his best friend had gotten and once he followed his eye line, he understood. 

“Come on Tsukki, you’ve got to stop” Yamaguchi said quietly, “you know you did this to yourself”. 

Tsukishima scoffed, he knew it deep down of course, “What are you talking about? I wasn’t looking at (Y/N), I was trying to study the blocking skills of Matsukawa. Besides I have Yuki, she’s all I need”. 

“sure” Yamaguchi replied and got up, “come on we’ve got to get ready, plus i think Yuki has been texting you the past hour asking when she should come to watch us play”.  With a sigh, Tsukki pulled out his phone and fired off a quick text to his girlfriend telling her he’d meet her outside the gym. 

Because he had to go pick up Yuki, Tsukki was late to warm up. When he and Yuki walked into the room, Aoba Johsai was already warming up their serves on the opposite side. As Tsukki was warming up with the rest of the team and Yuki was watching on the side, (Y/N) slowly walked over greeting her former team. 

The Karasuno team (minus Tsukki and Yuki) was so excited to see (Y/N). “Good luck today guys! Even though I’m at Johsai now, you know once a crow always a crow!” Y/N smiled cheekily, making the rest of the team laugh. 

“Babe what did you just say?!” Oikawa had snuck up behind his girlfriend, pretending to be offended, drawing more laughs from the team. Tsukki averted his eyes, stomach slightly nauseated at the sight. 

Yuki on the other hand was sneering internally, looks like (Y/N) really did not need Tsukishima at all. But upon second glance at her new boyfriend, Yuki’s heart did a little skip. “Wow, Seijoh’s captain really is as cute as the rumors, why does (Y/N) always get the cute guys?” Yuki did a glance over at (Y/N), “I mean i guess she’s pretty, but i’m prettier, or why else would Tsukki leave her for me?” With that, Yuki fluffed her hair, a hint of mischief gleaming in her eyes as she made sure she would be in (Y/N)’s field of vision before she strode over to Tsukki. Standing before her tall boyfriend, Yuki pulled him down forcefully and gave him a passionate kiss, opening her eyes to make sure (Y/N) was looking at them. 

Yuki expected to see pain in her eyes. Yuki was convinced (Y/N) was still not over Tsukishima and was just using Oikawa as a rebound. What she did not expect was a tiny smile of pity Y/N had on her face. Yuki was infuriated, “you know what?  how dare you pity me? I’ll steal your new boyfriend too” . 

Yuki blew her boyfriend a good luck kiss before heading toward (Y/N) and Oikawa. 

“Hi (Y/n) long time now see! you look well, whose this? your new boyfriend? you snatched yourself a cute one again”, with that Yuki put her hand on Oikawa biceps, “so strong too”.

Oikawa looked down at her flirty attempt in disgust, pulled his arms away forcefully, before pulling (Y/N) towards him and yelled out “You homewrecker, be gone!”  

Yuki couldn’t stop the blood from rushing to her cheeks, the gym suddenly fell quiet. Yuki thought everyone was warming up, unaware they were all watching and listening in. The Karasuno team snickered behind her, thinking she got what she deserved. Yuki ran out of the room, Tsukishima not even bothering to chase her. 

Watching Yuki’s little attempt at stealing Oikawa left Tsukishima feeling nauseous. Needless to say, Seijoh easily won the game that day. 

♫All my friends are drunk again And I'm stumblin' back to bed all by myself♫

A few weeks passed, Tsukishima eventually ended things with Yuki when he realized how his life has taken a turn for the worse since he allowed Yuki into his life. Yamaguchi sighed a sigh of relief when Tsukishima told him. 

Laying in bed at night, Tsukki could not help the tears of frustration from escaping as he viewed your instagram profile. All remnants of him were gone, replaced by Oikawa Toru. Pictures of Oikawa kissing (Y/N), pictures of picnic dates, movie dates...Tsukki shut his eyes. 

♫ I never have thought When you're gone I'd find it hard to carry on And it's probably 'cause I fell in love way back then ♫

With a sigh, Tsukishima turned off his phone, a sob finally escaping his chest. He hurt and threw away the love of his life. It’s all too late, realized Tsukishima as he cry himself to sleep with (Y/N) on the other side of town, blissfully wrapped in the tight embrace of Oikawa Toru. 

[awake-dearheart]

it took me a couple days but here’s a rundown of things sebastian said during the zoom call with his trainer don saladino and the march challenge group. he was on for an hour and three minutes total. keep in mind this challenge was fitness oriented so most of the questions revolve around that. this will also be LONG.

first of all he had trouble unmuting himself which was hilarious

he had a carboard cutout of the falcon with him which made everyone laugh

he loved being able to support ronald mcdonald house and he was sad they couldn’t go this year. sweet baby

when he was asked what he struggles with in his fitness he immediately said body dysmorphia. like no hesitation. he said he felt like he could stand to be less hard on himself.

he prefers cardio over other kinds of workouts.

he mentioned a role he’s getting ready for that’s “a lot different” but he laughed it off and said he couldn’t talk about it. i’m thinking it might have been tommy lee?

he tries to workout even just a little before he goes to set even when his schedule is crazy.

when he started training he had NO idea what he was doing. it took him a while to get into a routine and figure it out. he credited don with working a lot with him and finding a routine that works for him.

he feels better when he can do something physical every day. he said it really helps him mentally because the two go hand in hand for him.

someone said they were learning romanian and asked him for phrases to learn in romanian he said (in romanian) “oh my GOD why would you do that?” he also said he thinks people learning romanian because of him is “one of the sweetest things.”

he was asked how he balances training to look good vs training to feel good and he said if he’s training to look good he’s never 100% satisfied. training to feel good and setting short term goals has been better for him. 

don praised him for working hard to pivot his focus on the overall vs the day to day. seb said it was a lot harder when he started than it is now.

someone asked him if the workouts or the nutrition was harder and he immediately started talking about pizza and how much he loves a good cheat meal. the chat blew up talking about his cheat day video for men’s health. 

seb asked don his favorite cheat meal and they went on a tangent about burgers and fries and vodka that had us cracking up. seb said he went through a period where he was eating some kind of chocolate every day.

someone asked if he found it mentally difficult to go from one body type to another for roles and he said absolutely. he said if he has a shirtless scene to do then a month before he cuts out ALL sugar. fruits, carbs, everything and he turns into a very irritable person for about two weeks.

he was asked how the pandemic has changed his training and he said of course it has. him and don worked together to create a program for him to do from home with dumbbells and they had to get inventive. he’s been running a lot too.

someone asked the strangest item he’s used for weights and he said he’d go to the grocery store by himself without uber or anything. he tried to do one big shopping trip to last him for a week and half and he’d be laden with bags and it took him an hour and a half to walk home.

he told a story about using a towel and a bar in his house and he said “you probably know it because some “super fans” love to leak my address. so kind. lovely people.” the chat became v enraged.

he’s never had to get in shape on super short notice. marvel usually gives him about a 2 month heads up before he has to shoot things.

someone asked if he was a dog person. he said he loves dogs and he’d love to have one but he travels too much to give one the right kind of attention. he said if he could have a dog he’d have a bulldog or a husky.

he was asked his favorite nyc cheat meal and his first answer was “seeing all of you there” and we all cracked up. his real answer was a pizza place called rubirosa. he specifically likes their white pizza. (who wants to go to new york and get pizza with me?)

who would win in an iso squat challenge? him or don? (iso squats are when you drop into a squat and you hold it. it’s been the most hated exercise throughout the challenge). his face was HORRIFIED when he remembered what they are and he said don would definitely win. “don you have thighs of glory” the group is contemplating making shirts.

he played some sports in school but he wasn’t a super athletic kid. he struggled in school a bit because he had an accent and people were picking on him. it took a long time for his confidence to build.

celebrate victories where you can. he talked about when he posted that shirtless picture from the gym as an example. he said it’s more for motivation and pride in his achievements than about showing off.

he mentioned the documentary “the weight of gold” as something he watched recently. he said it’s a good example of people who are gold medal olympians struggling with the same things as everyone else when it comes to fitness. he comes back several times to not being too hard on yourself. 

he hasn’t lifted any weights in about a month and a half but he’s been running. he’s surprised at the amount of muscle he still has because he thought he’d lose a lot of it.

taking breaks when you’re working on fitness is so important. he says taking a week off sometimes is ok if that’s what you need.

they have talked about pizza at least 5 times at this point (32 minutes in) and it’s HILAROUS honestly.

he hates leg day. he knows how important it is because you need strong legs but he prefers doing arms and chest. “the squats can be so annoying UGH.”

someone asked him his advice for people who are starting an acting career and he laughed and said “quit all social media.” he walked it back and said you have to find a way to quiet the noise. 

this mfer went to theatre camp when he was 15 and he did MUSICALS. we tired to get him to sing. it didn’t work.

“you gotta do you. you cannot lose you as you’re going. and you cannot care what people think.”

he talked about imposter syndrome in terms of getting reviews and stuff. he said when he gets bad reviews it hurts but sometimes when he gets good reviews he can think “oh my god they made a mistake” or “oh my god i have to deliver like this every time.” he said if you’re starting out ask yourself why you want to do this and make sure this is what you want to do day in a day out. make sure when you face rejection and obstacles you have the energy to push you to get back up and say “fuck you i’m doing me.”

recommended the book “the subtle art of not giving a fuck” as something he loves.

“there’s creativity in everything. you don’t have to be a pianist or an actor or a writer. there’s creativity in all functions. as people we’re all creative.”

he went back to instagram for a minute and said to use it for the right things and follow the things that you like or are inspired by. he loves that social media can be used to reach people but you have to filter through the negative stuff.

someone asked the meanest thing don’t ever said during training and he said don’s never been mean but he’s always been inspiring and motivating for him. cute lil bromance moment.

he was asked if it’s harder to get into shape physically for the winter soldier or mentally. he said now it’s more of a head thing than it was in the beginning. the physically part was challenging for him in the beginning because he wanted to feel strong to build his confidence. he felt he couldn’t be bucky without being strong. 

civil war was his real hair but when they started filming it wasn’t long enough so he had extensions. by the end of the shoot it was long enough to cut the extensions out. 

the line between overtraining and not being motivated to train enough is hard for him sometimes. things tend to come all at once or not at all and it can be a struggle. 

he meditates and does some kind of physical activity every day at the start of his day. it makes him able to do the things he needs to do for the rest of the day better.

he thanked everyone for their support of tfaws and “making us look pretty good.” he’s very grateful for the turnout.

don says falcon weird. that’s not important but i wanted to mention it.

running is his go to thing. he feels like it’s a good meditative thing for him.  his go to pandemic workout was 100 pull ups, 100 push ups, 100 sit ups, 100 squats and alternating with running. we all panicked and were like “100 PULL UPS AT ONCE??” and he was like no no no no no no no no space that shit out during the day.

he loves breakfast but he doesn’t eat it at breakfast time. he joked he was going to eat breakfast after the call (which ended at 7PM). he likes anything with eggs and avocado. 

there are still directors he wants to work with that he can’t get to see him for parts. he did three audition tapes, two in person auditions, and a screen test to get bucky.

he just recently learned what “thirst pics” are (he figured out from the chat it’s thirst traps). when someone told him that picture from the gym was a thirst trap he was like “oh great well that sounds terrible.” men’s health didn’t call him until after that pic. he had reached out to them before that but that was the thing that made them call.

“make fun of yourself. you have to not take yourself too seriously.”

they both talked about how being able to do things like this is a privilege. there are always days when seb or don or anyone walks into a gym and doesn’t want to be there.

this is the part that made me emotional as FUCK. he’s had days where he’s gone to set and been like “what the fuck am i doing?” he says every time that happens he thinks “this is the time they’re gonna realize i can’t do this. this is when they’re all gonna know i’ve never been good at this.” he said in those moments you can’t just say “no no no i’m the best.” he said sometimes affirmations work and they can be as simple as “i’m gonna try to have a good day today” and it doesn’t have to be “i have to be the best version of myself.” it can just be “i wanna have a good day today” but on the days when you don’t feel good about things and don’t know what you’re doing he said you have to go there and say “ok i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing. fuck everything.” be in the thing that’s happening to you and give yourself permission to be down for a minute. find a compromise with yourself. if you can’t run the same three miles you’ve run all week and you just don’t want to, maybe you go for a walk instead. (his example not mine i DO NOT run). when he’s been in those moments of defeat accepting it had lead him to things he didn’t plan for and he finds those moments to be gifts in a way. accepting it and saying “today is that day” your body and your mind can start moving into finding other little things to do.

he came back to pizza one more time. i love him.

he recognizes how lucky he is to have the life he has. he says it’s important to pay attention to give a fuck about things and to give a fuck about things that will help other people. 

watching him talk the whole time he seemed so happy and relaxed. he seems like such a light hearted and fun person and he laughed SO much

that’s the end y’all. thanks for sticking around and reading all my hastily typed notes

[moonlight-breeze-44]

Shelter From the Storm

Shelter from the Storm

Gregorio comes out to her mother. It doesn't go well. Pride is there to remind her in the aftermath, after Tammy falls into old, bad habits, that she has a team-family here in New Orleans that will always love her for exactly who she is.

Pairings: None main; background PerSalle

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Homophobia, disowning, mental health issues/self-esteem issues, self-harm, graphic descriptions of violence/self-harm, blood & injury

Read on AO3

Gregorio knew it was only a matter of time before she had to make the phone call, but it didn’t mean getting the courage to dial her mother’s number and press call was any easier.

Now, alone in her apartment, she wished her heart would stop pounding into the beginnings of a panic attack and let her fucking breathe. Her hands were so clammy with sweat that she half-expected the phone to slip and fall to the ground. She wondered if maybe it would be better if it did. It would mean she didn’t have to face this.

Gregorio loved her mom, but that was half of the problem. Her mother could be old-fashioned, and Gregorio had been raised in the countryside of New York with two dogs, an old cat, and no father to speak of. In some ways, Gregorio was a lot more like LaSalle than she wanted to admit.

As she waited for Emily Gregorio to pick up her phone, Tammy paced; she was her mother’s only child, and if what she said today devastated her like she feared it would, she doubted there would be another chance for them. This stupid fucking phone call was going to define their entire relationship, and the fear was enough to make Tammy grab the chair in front of her for support, nails scrabbling for purchase along the worn fiber.

No turning back now.

“Tammy?” Her mother’s voice, pragmatic as always, filled Gregorio’s ears and she flinched. Maybe she wasn’t as ready for this as she thought. “What’s wrong?”

It was a response that most other people would consider harsh or brusque, but in reality, Emily was just being realistic; Tammy almost never called unless she was backed into a corner and needed something. Her mother never called unless someone had died. It was a routine that Tammy couldn’t bring herself to feel bad for, considering her mother’s part in it and the lack of warmth between them. But their lack of contact made what Tammy had to say even harder to reveal.

“Mom, I have something to tell you,” Tammy breathed, trying to keep her voice as steady and strong as she could while the panic rattled in her ribcage. She could do this. She had to.

“Oh my god, are you pregnant?” Emily exclaimed, and Tammy heard the blatant delight in her voice at the thought. She shook her head, even though she knew her mother couldn’t see her. This was going to make it even harder to burst her bubble. When the silence stretched on a beat too long, she rolled her shoulders, shaking them out, trying to calm her nerves.

“Uh, no, Mom, I’m not pregnant,” Tammy replied, heaving a deep breath. “I, uh…I-I’m…”

“You’re what, Tammy? Spit it out.”

“I’m gay,” Tammy burst out, chest heaving with having the pressure of her secret released. She felt herself begin to tremble and leaned more of her weight onto the old chair in front of her. “I’m, uh, I’m a lesbian, Mom. I like women.”

The silence that followed her revelation felt like claws around Gregorio’s neck, choking and scratching into her windpipe. She waited with bated breath. Everything hinged on her mother’s reaction. Tammy’s hands were shaking with fear. Even if they weren’t close, she still loved her mother. She still wanted her to be a part of her life.

“Tammy, I…I’m not sure what to say.”

“Anything,” Gregorio begged, hating how desperate she sounded, but she couldn’t wait any longer. “Just say something, please.”

“Well, you know this isn’t what I wanted for you,” Emily stated, and Tammy knew it was true. Memories of her bisexual phase in high school rushed to the forefront of her mind, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe past the mental images of her mother’s disdain when she was fifteen and dating Zara Matthews. The coldness in her mother’s voice, then and now, felt like Tammy had swallowed a burning hot coal that was beginning to scorch her insides.

“How will you have children, Tammy?” Emily continued, obviously distraught. Tammy’s fingers tightened on the phone, and she tried to take a deep breath; get herself under control.

“I can adopt,” she replied calmly, “Or find a surrogate. Or…” She paused, hesitating. She was already six feet deep and buried with her mother, it seemed; why not put the nail in her own coffin? “...or maybe I won’t have kids.”

“Tammy,” her mother said reproachfully, “You have to have kids!”

“Says who?” Tammy retorted, her hands trembling where they still held the back of the living room chair for dear life. “I mean, look at me. I’m okay, aren’t I? I’m happy. I, I don’t have to have kids. Besides, I’m an NCIS agent. Who would want a mom who does what I do?”

“A child that understands the meaning of sacrifice,” Emily snapped. “Which you clearly don’t.”

“Mom, I…”

“No, Tammy, just don’t.” Gregorio fell silent, biting her lip hard to avoid letting out the tears that had gathered in her eyes sometime during the phone call. Her mother loved her, she was sure. But Tammy could never be who she wanted, either. And if she had learned one thing from her time in New Orleans with Ethan, before NCIS, it was that sometimes love wasn’t enough.

“Look, dear, I’m not going to say that this is the end of things.” Gregorio’s breath hitched, and she had to fight to keep her emotions in check. She knew that tone well enough to know what her mother was really saying, and it was the end of things. God, she knew her mother wouldn’t approve, but to know it and to have it confirmed were two very different feelings.

“But you should know how I feel about this,” Emily continued, ignorant to her daughter’s pain. “I don’t think it’s right. I don’t think it’s natural. I always thought you grew out of that phase you had in high school, especially after you married Ethan. Which, I know that didn’t work out, but one bad apple doesn’t mean the whole barrel is bad. I-I don’t know what you want from me here, Tammy. You are my daughter, and I love you. But I will not support this lifestyle. When you’re ready, you can come back home. We can work this out. But until then, don’t - don’t call. Don’t visit. Please. Spare us both. I’m sure you won’t feel this way forever, Tammy. When you change your mind, I’ll be here. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Mom - ”

“Tammy, please. Don’t make this any harder than it already is. Just-Just sort yourself out, okay? I’ll be here when you need me. I love you.” With that, the call dropped, and Gregorio sank to her knees behind the worn out chair, breathing hard and fast, on the verge of a fucking panic attack from the call. Emily was gone. She recognized the situation for what it was; her mother had given her an ultimatum. Become straight, or say goodbye to her and their home back in New York forever.

It wasn’t a choice at all.

With the sound of the dial tone in her ear, her mother’s final words before she hung up way too loud in her head, Tammy allowed herself to cry, the weight of the emotions she had struggled to hold back before escaping in full. She sobbed into her knees, her shoulders shaking. She couldn’t be something she wasn’t. She couldn’t change, even though there had been more than enough times that she wanted to. She couldn’t give her mother what she had asked for.

In all the ways that mattered, it was over.

She and her mother had never been close. The truth was that Tammy expected the call to end like this, but it was still more of a blow than she had ever expected to know that the woman who raised her would never accept her for who she was. Tammy felt lost, and cut open, like someone had twisted a knife in her and then left her to die on a street corner. She didn’t know what her next steps were, if there even were any, and more than anything, she felt vulnerable.

It was a feeling she wasn’t used to, between her secrecy about her private life and the walls she built around her heart, but it made her want to hide and protect her six from whatever was going to hurt her. But there was nothing to shield herself from, no imminent threat or dangerous gunman; just her own damage and that goddamn dial tone still humming in her ear, a reminder that she would never be able to call home again.

The thought of home sent a fresh wave of tears cascading down her cheeks, and Tammy finally ripped the cellphone from her ear, throwing it across hardwood until it crashed into the side of her refrigerator. She would regret that later, she was sure, but for now she didn’t care. She couldn’t. The only piece of herself that seemed to matter was in New York, probably opening a bottle of whiskey and no doubt planning to pray for her in church the next day.

Home was gone forever now, even if she hadn’t called it that in years. It was still the place where she was raised, and where she’d learned how to fight for herself in more ways than one. She loved the sprawling hills on their property, and the well where she had nearly drowned once as a child. She loved the fucking tire swing and the garden beds and the old barn where she used to go with the dogs when she needed to be alone. Their house and grounds were so beautiful that sometimes Gregorio hardly believed that she lived in New York growing up. All of it would become a memory now, and she would never be able to touch the wildflowers that grew along the fence line ever again. It shouldn’t have affected her so much, considering it had been years since she even wanted to go home, but the thought of losing it all forever was more than she could handle.

The tears, which hadn’t stopped or slowed in the slightest, were becoming overwhelming and almost nausea-inducing, so Gregorio took a deep breath, moving her hands roughly down her legs, then her calves, then her ankles, trying to ground herself and move away from the precipice of her breakdown. But instead of finding stability in her old brown Doc Martens, like she had hoped, her hand brushed a cold piece of metal, and it sent her heartbeat racing again.

She knew what it was, the feeling unmistakeable against her fingers. It was a sterling silver razor blade, years old at least, tucked into a fraying patch on her boots since November of 2018. She had played a dangerous game with it, allowing it so close; on one hand, it could become dislodged at work and she ran the risk of someone investigating her for psychological issues if they saw where it had been hiding. On the other hand, she could lose it in the field, and she would never have to worry about it, or remember the temptation, ever again.

Neither of those things had happened, apparently, and she knew from the feel of it against her fingers that, somehow, it hadn’t even been scuffed. It was the perfect deadly instrument, even after all these years. Gregorio’s hand trembled.

She hesitated for a second, but pulled the razor blade from the patch on her boot, turning it over and over in her palms like precious gold. A coil of longing hit her like a punch to the gut, and Gregorio tried to suck in a deep breath, wanted to put it back, wanted to throw it away and pretend it never existed, but she couldn’t bring herself to.

If this razor blade had somehow managed to survive three years working as a field agent for the FBI, and one as an NCIS agent, not to mention the countless parties and clubs she’d been to, it had to be a sign. Gregorio didn’t believe in fate, but maybe the gods that weren’t were trying to tell her something now.

It had been five years. It had been half of a lifetime. Part of Gregorio didn’t want to risk it, after fighting so hard to get clean in the first place, but the other, larger part of her that wanted for the quick pain of metal against her skin argued that because it had been so long, it wouldn’t matter now. A relapse wasn’t really a relapse if it only lasted a day, and if she got her act together right after. She could do this, and hide it, then throw it away the next day and no one would ever have to know.

“It’s not like last time,” Gregorio muttered to herself, trying to believe it. “I won’t let it get out of hand.”

She didn’t know if she could keep the promise to herself or not, but it didn’t matter. Her mother’s words were still burning like acid in her lungs, and she just wanted the pain to be replaced with something new, something better, until she was able to get ahold of herself. It was the best, most efficient option, and then she would stop. One cut, she told herself, and after that she would curl up in bed and watch Desperate Housewives or something. One cut, and she would be okay.

Tammy rolled up her sleeve, took a deep breath, and pressed the razor blade to her wrist.

The relief was immediate, almost as overwhelming and euphoric as a drug, and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks at the feeling. It didn’t take away her mother’s homophobia, or the way her abandonment made Tammy feel, but it replaced the worst of it with white-hot pain and the familiar sting of a fresh cut instead. Blood welled like storm clouds in the wound, and slid down her wrist until it began to drip onto her pants. Lazily, Tammy remembered she needed to do laundry and didn’t have another pair of work pants. Another, bigger part of her, however, couldn’t be bothered to care.

Instantly forgetting the one-cut promise, Tammy sliced her way through six pristine cuts before stopping to take a breath, her chest heaving with the relief of giving into the old addiction again. She didn’t remember much from three years ago, the last time she cut, but she could swear it had never felt this good before.

Looking down at her arm, a pageant of crimson lines sluggishly bleeding, Tammy felt the calm settle into her bones, numbness chasing away the pain. She exhaled hard, letting her head thump against the forgotten chair in front of her. She got what she needed. She should stop.

She didn’t.

It was close to midnight before she threw the razor blade down and stopped to admire her work. She wasn’t sure how much blood she would have to clean up, or how much she had lost, and she hadn’t eaten today either. She knew it wasn’t a good idea to just sit there after what she’d done, but her head was swimming, and she was so exhausted that even attempting to get up would have been too much for her. So, instead, Tammy rested her arms on the bloodstained slacks, and let her head loll against the back of the living chair. She had slept in worse places.

~ ~ ~

In the morning, Tammy’s alarm came blaring to life at 6am, startling her awake from where she was slumped over next to the chair. Her arms felt like they were glued to her pants, dried blood sticking to the fabric, and she could feel a telltale crustiness on the seat of her pants that meant, somehow, she had managed to sit in a puddle of blood. “God, make it stop,” she muttered, and struggled to get to her feet to turn off the fucking alarm. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this bad.

By the time she made it to the kitchen, where her phone was at, miraculously not dead but down to the last 5% of its battery, it was almost 6:30 and she was going to be late for work if she didn’t hustle.

Tammy made it to her bedroom with less difficulty, though she still felt lightheaded, and got to work peeling the blood-soaked slacks off and painfully removing her shirt, which had a few spots of blood on it from her careless cutting the night before. She searched through her closet as fast as she could for the most lightweight long-sleeved shirt she had, that was a dark enough color to mask the blood if her cuts opened up while she was at work. After that, she selected a pair of dark jeans, even though they were against the agency dress code, and headed to the bathroom to do what she could for her appearance.

To her dismay, her eyes were still a little bloodshot from last night, and her hair was a mess. She would need makeup to cover up the circles underneath her eyes, evidence of multiple nights of restless sleep in preparation for the phone call with her mother.

The thought of her mother made Tammy’s heart seize up, and she pressed on one of the new cuts, hissing at the sharp pain it brought. It was enough to snap her out of her head, at least, and she got to work applying makeup to cover up what she could of her turmoil. Finally, she was able to run a brush through her hair, grab her gun, badge, and car keys, and head out the door.

Just before walking into the Navy Yard, Tammy hesitated, and considered calling in sick. But as tempting as it was to go back to her apartment and stay in bed all day, that wasn’t a good idea; the NCIS team was like a big fucking family, and they were sure to stop by if they got word she wasn’t feeling well. Not only was her apartment a mess, but the pool of blood by the chair in the living room, as well as the razor blade that had caused all of this damage, was still out in the open for any prying eyes to see.

Still, Tammy knew it would be hard to keep what she had done from her teammates. She would have to be on her guard. They were perceptive, even if they weren’t trained profilers like her, and much worse, they knew her. It would take all of her skills at hiding and lying and pretending to fool them into believing she was fine.

The cuts pulled tight as the fabric of her shirt shifted, making each step and movement she made towards the office painful. She had learned how to hide the pain a long time ago, but a part of her wished she had bandaged the wounds before coming in today, instead of hiding the first-aid supplies in her bag in case of an emergency and hoping for the best. But Pride was already going to kill her for being late, and it would take another fifteen minutes at least to deal with the fallout of her habit. She didn’t want to come off any more suspicious than she already was.

Taking a deep breath, Gregorio etched a smile onto her face, and walked into the NCIS office like everything was fine, as always. Nothing is different today, she warned herself, trying to drill it into her brain. Nothing has changed.

“There ya are, Gregorio! Was startin’ to wonder if we was gonna have to send out a search party,” Chris greeted her with a smile, and Gregorio gave him one of her patented bitchfaces in return.

“I got caught in traffic,” she lied, and watched his face for any signs of disbelief as she made her way to her desk. She clocked the slight raise of his eyebrows, his posture lengthening, and reminded herself to adjust her tone when she was lying.

“Didn’t think there was hardly any traffic on Bourbon Street,” Chris commented, and Tammy turned to place her bag next to her desk and start up her computer. It was easier to lie to someone when she didn’t have to face them.

“There isn’t usually,” she replied, keeping her tone light and casual. “Guess today was my lucky day.”

“Guess so,” Chris responded, and Tammy turned around just in time to see him giving her one of his famous, milliwatt smiles. She grinned back, bumping his shoulder playfully on her way into the kitchen. One down, two to go.

By the time she caught up with Pride and Sonja, it was almost midday, and the hot, humid weather prompted a picnic invite from Pride to eat lunch at the bridge in town. Chris, Sonja, and the others all agreed, leaving Gregorio as the odd one out. She knew she couldn’t decline without offering an explanation, lest they become suspicious of her motives, but she couldn’t accept the invitation when she knew either Chris or Sonja would try to roll up her sleeves the second they arrived, either to tease her or out of care for her wellbeing. Refusing their help against potential heatstroke when it was summer in the middle of New Orleans was a one-way ticket to having her secret revealed.

“Tammy, you’re not going to lunch with us?” Percy pouted, her eyebrows drawn up in that Percy way, that said she was more concerned than disappointed, but was too proud to put voice to her feelings. “Come on, don’t you want to hang with the gang?”

“As much as I would love to ‘hang with the gang’,” Gregorio used air quotes and gave Sonja a playful smirk, “I have a prior obligation.”

“Oooh, someone’s got a hot date,” Chris said, walking into the kitchen with an ice chest for their drinks. “So who is it, Gregorio? Black-haired beauty? Feisty redhead? That’s my type.”

“Excuse you,” Percy retorted, raising her eyebrow in his direction.

“Pardon me,” Chris corrected, giving Sonja a fond smile, “That’s usually my type.”

“Better,” Sonja affirmed, before turning her attention to Gregorio once more. “But seriously, T, where you goin’ that you can’t come hang with us?”

“Well, Chris wasn’t exactly wrong,” Gregorio replied, lifting her coffee mug to her lips to take a sip so she could avoid having to look either of them in the eyes. “A certain mayor’s secretary asked me out the other day, and I can’t leave her hanging a second time.” Though it was a lie that they had a lunch date, it wasn’t a lie that she’d been asked out, so Gregorio didn’t feel as bad as she maybe should for using Amber as her scapegoat.

“With that one, you better not,” Chris replied, chuckling. “I’ve heard she’s got some high standards.”

“Of course she does,” Gregorio retorted without missing a beat. “She’s going on a date with me, isn’t she?”

Sonja and Chris both laughed at that, the latter ribbing her good-naturedly for a minute or two before they calmed down. She allowed her smirk to play on her lips, knowing she could pass it off as satisfaction at her joke instead of her lie. They weren’t suspicious of her anymore, not after she’d thrown them a bone. For now, she was safe.

~ ~ ~

Later that night, when the team was getting ready to wrap up and head home, Pride caught her eye, gesturing her into the kitchen. Tammy dropped her bag and took a deep breath, heading in to meet him. She could feel her heart skip a beat.

Of all of them, Pride was the most likely to figure out that something was wrong, even if he was the least likely to react with anything other than kind, calm patience. Still, the idea of her boss finding out her most guarded secret was more terrifying than she could fathom.

Without speaking or otherwise acknowledging Pride, Gregorio took a seat on the barstool across from him, crossed her arms, and waited. She could feel her heart pounding in her throat, but forced herself to be motionless and keep her expression blank, lest she give away the anxiety she was feeling.

“So, Gregorio,” Pride said, taking in her position and folding his arms across the top of the bar, “Want to tell me what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Gregorio replied defensively, before she could stop herself and try to temper her tone. “What makes you think something’s going on?”

Pride raised an eyebrow at her, unimpressed. “Well, for starters, you came in late today, said it was traffic when traffic is nonexistent on your street, you’re actin’ awful odd, and then you lied to Christopher and Sonja about who you were with for lunch today.”

Gregorio opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, Pride held up his hand and continued, “I have it on good authority that the mayor’s secretary didn’t leave her office all day.” He softened, giving her a worried look, and said, “Just want to know you’re okay, and if anything’s goin’ on that we can help with.”

“It’s nothing,” Gregorio sighed, letting her shoulders slump in defeat. There was no use pretending she was fine if Pride already knew something was up. She didn’t have to tell him everything, but maybe if she told him about her mom, at least, he’d leave her alone.

“Just a little upset from a phone call with my mother yesterday,” Gregorio admitted, picking at her nails to avoid meeting Pride’s eyes. “I came out to her.”

Pride nodded, his eyes filling with support and kindness for her, and moved to wipe down the kitchen counter, in an effort to give her space to talk as much as she wanted to. Gregorio knew the tactic, was familiar with it from teasing the truth out of LaSalle when he was being particularly stubborn. Though she was loathe to admit it, she appreciated it. “How did she take it?”

“Not well,” Tammy sighed, pressing her nail into the pad of her thumb to resist the urge to burst into tears again. She had already done enough crying in the past 24 hours. “She basically gave me an ultimatum; stop being gay, or stop coming home. Permanently.”

“Oh, Tammy,” Pride breathed, sympathy pouring out of him and into her. “I’m so sorry.” He reached across the bar to lay a hand on her shoulder, and against her will, Tammy leaned into the touch.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, closing her eyes to avoid letting Pride see how glossy they had become. “W-We were never really close.”

“Still, that’s gotta hurt,” Pride said, withdrawing just enough to allow her time to fight back the tears and open her eyes once more. “Parents’ rejection is…one of the worst things that can happen to a child. No matter how old they are.”

“Yeah,” Tammy breathed, the weight of her own exhaustion hitting her as she slumped on the barstool. She couldn’t remember the last time she had let something damage her like this. Who knew her mother’s decision would have such an impact on her? She sighed and tugged lightly on one of her sleeves, until it was down far enough on her arm to cover her fingers. Pride caught the movement, but said nothing. “To make matters worse, she tried to frame it like she loved me, and she was going to be there for me.” Tammy laughed bitterly, emotion swelling up in her throat. “She’s so convinced I’m going to change, Pride.”

“Not the way it works,” Pride said fondly, giving her a warm smile. His hand, still on her shoulder, was like a grounding wire, keeping her settled, and she felt like she was being comforted by the father she never had.

“Yeah,” Tammy said, again, and her voice wobbled on the last syllable. Under Pride’s kind, supportive words and gentle ministrations, she could feel the dam in her chest threatening to explode, and she slid sideways off of the barstool, grabbing for her coat and heading towards the door. She had to get out of here, before she lost it completely. “Anyway, I should go - ”

“Wait,” Pride called, and moved to follow her, grabbing her wrist to stop her from leaving. Without thinking, still trying to calm the tidal wave of emotion in her chest, Gregorio hissed in pain.

“Tammy,” Pride said slowly, releasing her wrist with some reluctance, “There something wrong with your arm?”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Tammy replied, giving him a quick, panicked smile. “Just bruised it on the countertop when I was getting ready for work this morning.”

“That so?” Pride asked, and he sounded suspicious enough to make Tammy’s heart skip a beat in fear. She curled her fingers around her sleeves protectively. “Mind if I take a look at it?”

“Don’t bother,” Gregorio replied, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “I told you, Pride, it’s nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing,” Pride replied, and he reached for her wrist again. Determined not to give anything away, Tammy kept her face purposefully blank, allowing him to hold her arm in his hand even as his fingers pressing against the cuts felt like a sharp knife against her skin. “Thing is, Tammy…” Pride moved to grasp her sleeve, and Gregorio’s entire body tensed, waiting for his next move. This was not happening.

“You haven’t worn long sleeves this dark, especially during summer, all year,” he continued, “and that first time we talked, up on the balcony in your hotel when you first came here – you wore a tank top, and I don’t think you thought about it then, but I noticed something the others didn’t get the chance to see.” He lifted his gaze to meet Gregorio’s eyes, and she knew, without having to ask what he meant, that she was done for.

Pride knows.

“I’ve seen the scars on your wrists, Tammy,” Pride said softly, “And I’ve never mentioned it, because it’s not my business and I don’t want you to think I’m judging you for it. But if your arm is hurt…after all you’ve been through in the past few days, you understand why I need to check, right?”

Tammy nodded tightly, trying not to cry, as Pride moved to roll up her sleeve. At the last second, just before he could grab the cuff of her shirt, she blurted out: “And what do you think you’ll find, if you check?”

“I think you and I both know the answer to that,” Pride responded, his voice as kind and understanding as ever. Tammy choked on a sob, losing the battle against her emotions, and pulled away from him, running her hands through her hair so hard that she was sure she’d left red, inflamed scratches on her scalp. She heaved a deep breath and choked on it, trying to hold in the breakdown that wanted to happen, fighting to remain in control. Pride couldn’t see her like this. No one could.

“Just - Just please don’t demote me,” Tammy begged, straightening up and gasping for breath, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans. “D-Don’t put me on desk duty. I can still handle myself in the field, I promise I’m not a liability, Pride.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Pride said, and her heart sank. “For now, we need to get you taken care of.” He glanced at his watch, and muttered, “Loretta might still be here, I’d have to check the morgue.”

“No – please,” Gregorio pleaded, embarrassment creeping up to settle like fire on her cheeks. “No one else needs to know about this.”

“They do, Tammy,” Pride argued, raising his eyebrows at her. “They’re your teammates. Your family. They care about you. Of course they should know about this.”

“Please,” Tammy said, raising her arms to hug herself, trying to get some semblance of comfort in the least embarrassing or incriminating way possible.

“Look,” Pride said, gesturing for her to sit down across from him in the kitchen once more, taking a seat opposite her on the island, “I know you’re scared. You’re worried about what the others might think. But they love you, Tammy, and they want to help you. I do too.”

“What if they hate me?” Tammy breathed, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. She knew she looked like a wreck, pathetic even, but this was her worst nightmare come true and she couldn’t pretend anymore. “Pride, I’m weak.” She gestured haphazardly at her arms, at herself, and shook her head, avoiding his gaze by staring down the marble kitchen tile. “They’ll see me differently.”

“Maybe so,” Pride conceded, “but not in the way you think. They won’t consider you weak, Tammy. I don’t.” He reached out to lay his hand on her arm, comforting and grounding her with the touch. “You’re one of the strongest people I know, Gregorio.”

“Even now that you know I - ” Tammy gestured to her arms once more, at a loss for words. “ - Again?”

“Even now,” Pride confirmed, giving her a firm nod and a steady look that swore honesty. “Tammy, no one on this team will think any less of you for struggling with this.”

“Promise?” Tammy whispered, letting some of the vulnerability she was feeling slip into her voice as she asked the question.

“Promise,” Pride affirmed, and gave her arm a soft, gentle pat.

Gregorio nodded, her shoulders slumping in relief as some of the tension was alleviated. “Do you have to tell them tonight?”

“No, not tonight,” Pride responded. “But soon.”

“I understand.” Gregorio looked away, the fear thundering back to life in her chest. For an instant, under Pride’s reassuring words, it had disappeared.

“It’s gonna be okay, Gregorio,” Pride promised her, moving from the opposite side of the bar to wrap her in a tight hug. “The team’ll take care of you.”

“Shouldn’t have to,” Gregorio protested weakly, but Pride shushed her with a hand in her hair, stroking gently.

“We want to,” he said, and Gregorio was struck with how much she wished he could have been her real dad. Maybe her future would’ve turned out better if he was. “This is somethin’ that everyone is more ‘n willin’ to help you with. We’re gonna get it taken care of. Got your back, Tammy, not just for work.”

“Thanks, Pride,” Gregorio whispered, too emotional to express her gratitude any further. She was sure Pride understood. In his arms, trembling, Gregorio could admit that maybe what she had really needed was the support and acceptance of her loved ones. Maybe her mother would never love her the way she was, but she had an entire family here in New Orleans that did.

Maybe that was what mattered.

And if, the next day, when Loretta called her down to the morgue and told Gregorio about her mother’s issues with self-harm while she bandaged the fresh cuts on Tammy’s arms, she felt a small piece of her heart begin to heal, she didn’t mention it. And if, when Sebastian gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek and offered to call her and ramble about whatever came to mind when she was having urges, she started to tear up, well, no one could prove it (she had threatened Sebastian with removing his Power Rangers collection from the lab if he told anyone). And if, when Chris said nothing but drew her into the tightest hug she could ever remember receiving, and Percy showed up at her house without warning to sit on the couch with her and watch basketball, she began to realise this was all the family she needed, she knew she could blame Pride for most of it.

Getting clean again, and resisting the urge to take a blade to her arms whenever she felt like her world was falling apart, was a fight that took months, and she did end up on desk duty for some of it, but despite the silence that stretched between her and her mother, she found that the most important thing was the family that she had right here.

Maybe she didn’t need what used to be her home when she had a better one here in New Orleans.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

the fall of the red king

again, not a request. just an idea that intrigued me

what if, instead of charging into the crastle and dying, Skizz had stayed outside and Ren had been the Dogwarts red to die instead?

no i’m not in denial about Skizz’s death idk why you’d think that

…

  “I’m going in!” Skizz roars, charging for the crastle door. 

  Ducking under a flaming arrow, Martyn pursues him and catches his wrist by the door. “No! They’ll slaughter you!”

  Skizz tries to pull his wrist free. “Let go of me, Martyn! My bloodlust is HUNGRY!” 

  “We can’t afford to lose you, Skizz!” Martyn says pleadingly. “You’ve already taken two lives today; that’s enough for now!”

  After a moment, Skizz growls and nods. “Fine. But I wanna shoot someone.”

  He and Martyn rush back out to join the others and both start firing arrows up at the crastle. 

  Within seconds, a flaming arrow hits Ren in the shoulder, causing him to yell out and stagger back a few steps. 

  “The golden apple, Ren!” Etho yells at him. “Eat it, quick!”

  After yanking out the arrow, Ren scoffs down the golden apple, which heals him a fair amount. But he’s still dangerously exposed. 

  “Look, Impulse is up there!” calls Martyn suddenly. “He’s with them!”

  Skizz stares up at the crastle in horror. Sure enough, he can see Impulse through one of the slit windows, firing arrows down on them alongside Tango, Grian, and Bdubs. 

  “Impulse, what are you doing?!” Skizz bellows.

  “I’ve chosen my side!” Impulse’s voice yells back over the noise of battle. “This is where my allegiance lies now! Sorry, Skizz!”

  Skizz’s eyes flash red, red hot fury surging through his whole body. “I’m gonna kill you!”

  “Don’t fight angry, Skizzle,” Ren snaps at him, momentarily distracting himself from the fight. “Don’t let-!”

  He breaks off with a yell of pain as a second arrow strikes him in the chest. 

  “REN!” Skizz screams in horror, watching Ren fall. 

  Martyn immediately dashes towards his king but now he’s distracted too and an arrow hits him in the side, sending him down. 

  As Skizz freezes in horror, Etho springs into action and dashes towards Martyn, using his shield to protect him from further arrows. “Skizzle, go to Ren!”

  Managing to shake himself out of his stupor, Skizz rushes to Ren’s side and hurriedly drags him behind one of the stone hiding spots Etho made on the battlefield. Ren’s skin was already grey but it seems even more so now, so pale that it’s almost snow white. His hands go to the arrow in Ren’s chest, ready to pull it out, but something stops him. 

  Ren’s eyes are closed, his chest still. But it’s not until his communicator buzzes violently that Skizz realises what’s happened. The shot went straight through Ren’s heart. On his lowered health, he never stood a chance. 

Renthedog was shot by Grian

  Skizz’s stomach drops. His king is dead. Forever. He’s never coming back. 

  And it’s all Skizz’s fault. 

  “We gotta get Martyn back to Dogwarts!” calls Etho suddenly. “Skizzle, leave Ren for now and help me with Martyn.”

  “I-I can’t just leave Ren’s body behind!” cries Skizz. 

  “We can come back for it, Skizzle. If we try to take it now, we’re gonna lose more lives!”

  Skizz knows that Etho is right. Reluctantly rising to his feet, he dashes over to Etho, who’s still angling his shield over Martyn. “Get Martyn back to Dogwarts,” he says urgently. “I’ll cover you.”

  “Okay.” Skizz nods shakily but determinedly. “Stay safe.”

  “You too.” 

  Skizz carefully lifts Martyn to his feet and slings Martyn’s arm over his shoulder, supporting him. Martyn’s face is pale and his breathing shallow. Skizz doesn’t know if he’s even registered Ren’s death. 

  “I got you, buddy,” he murmurs, starting the journey back to Dogwarts. “I got you.”

  Thankfully, Etho’s cover gets them out of range of the crastle, so they’re able to speed up and get back to Dogwarts within minutes. Skizz and Etho take Martyn down to the underground area and lie him down on his bed. 

  “What do we do now?” Skizz asks nervously. “Do we need to take the arrow out?”

  Etho nods. “Yes. Go get something to stop the bleeding or he’ll bleed out as soon as we take it out.”

  Together, Skizz and Etho manage to remove the arrow from Martyn’s side and immediately begin treating the wound, preventing any major blood loss. Apart from a sudden and terrifying scream when the arrow was wrenched out of his body, Martyn doesn’t react to anything they do. He remains semi-conscious and feverish throughout their treatment of him, constantly stirring as if about to wake up.

  This makes Skizz very nervous. “Is he gonna be okay?” he asks, as Etho is finishing winding the bandage around Martyn’s side. “I mean… he’s… he’s really out of it. Is this normally how people react when they get an arrow yanked out of them?”

  “Honestly, I don’t really know. But his wound seems to be healing already and his skin is less pale, so those are good signs. I think he just needs to rest and he should be fine.”

  “Good.” Skizz exhales in relief. “Good. Is it okay if I stay with him?”

  “Absolutely,” Etho replies. “I was gonna suggest that, actually. I’ll keep watch outside.” 

  “Okay. Good luck.”

  Etho nods back to him and, after briefly washing his hands, leaves the room. 

  Skizz pulls up a chair beside the bed and sits down in it. Martyn seems to be asleep now, to his relief. It was far more scary when he was semi-conscious and restlessly twitching. Now at least he’s getting some rest. 

  He wishes he could get some rest too. He’s exhausted, physically and mentally. But he can’t. All he can think about is Ren, and how he died right in front of him. How Ren’s body is still out there by the enemy base, all alone. The crastle people might have taken it and hung it up on the outside of the castle as a symbol of triumph or revenge. 

  Skizz knows he let Ren down badly. And that guilt will keep him up at night for a long time to come. 

  Finally, after what feels like days, Martyn stirs and lets out a soft groan. 

  Smiling with relief, Skizz watches his eyes slowly open and register him. “Hey,” he says gently. “How you feeling?” 

  Martyn gazes back at him with hollow eyes, and instead of answering Skizz’s question, after a pause, he asks one of his own. “Ren’s dead, isn’t he.”

  Except it’s not really a question. 

  Skizz’s soft smile falls and he gives a sombre nod. “I’m sorry. I-I was too slow.”

  Martyn leans back and squeezes his eyes shut for a few seconds, before letting out a quiet sigh. “It’s not your fault. We were always going to lose someone in that battle.”

  “It should have been me, though. I should have-.”

  “No.” Martyn sits up again, wincing quietly as he does, and shakes his head firmly. “Don’t do that to yourself, Skizz. Ren made his choice to fight alongside us right in the line of fire, despite knowing there was a chance he would die, because he valued our lives just as much as he valued his own. He wouldn’t want you to wish you’d died instead.”

  Skizz hangs his head and says nothing.

  After a moment, Martyn reaches out and pats his shoulder. “Has he been buried yet?”

  “No, I… I had to leave his body behind to get you outta there alive,” Skizz replies quietly. 

  “Then as soon as I’ve recovered, we’ll go get it together,” Martyn says. “We’ll give him a proper funeral and say our goodbyes, just the three of us. Okay?”

  Skizz nods slowly and grasps Martyn’s shoulder. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re alive, buddy. When I saw that arrow hit you, I… I was so scared that I’d lost you too.” 

  “Hey, it’ll take more than just a little arrow to take me down.”

  “You literally lost your first life to an arrow.”

  “After it took THREE players to get me down to half a heart,” complains Martyn mildly. “I was about twenty blocks from Dogwarts when I died. If it wasn’t nighttime, I would’ve made it.”

  Skizz grins weakly. “Uh huh, sure.”

  The two chuckle but quickly fall silent at the same time, their thoughts travelling back to their fallen friend. 

  “What do we do now?” Skizz asks quietly. “We don’t have a leader.”

  “We’ll be our own leader,” says Martyn. “You, me, and Etho will make one hell of a team. We’ll avenge our king, no matter what it takes. But until then, we carry on as normal, make them think they’ve defeated us.”

  Skizz nods firmly. “Alright, yes. Anyway, I should let you get some rest. I’ll be right outside if you need me, okay?”

  “Okay. Thanks, Skizz.”

  Skizz gets up and heads to the door but pauses and glances back at his friend. “I just want you to know that the loyalty I have for you is just as strong as the loyalty I had for Ren. I’m with you ‘til the end, okay? No matter what.”

  Martyn gives him a grateful smile. “Thank you. I’m with you too.” 

  After a moment, Skizz leaves and shuts the door behind him. He sits down on the other side, leaning against it, and buries his face in his hands and cries. His grief for Ren is finally pouring out. 

  Unbeknownst to him, Martyn has lain back down in his bed and closed his eyes, crying quietly for his fallen king. He can see that Skizz is suffering just as much as he is but he knows that they’ll get through this. 

  Their grief may be strong but their loyalty is stronger. 

[bostonbashers]

mercs react to their s/o being terminally ill. ~

Hi I don’t know if you’re an angst person but I hope you consider my request. May I request the mercs with an s/o that gets diagnosed with a terminal illness that has no cure and could potentially be fatal? How do they deal with the idea that they could die?

How about mercs with an s/o who is very sick? Thank you and good luck!

so y’all tryna break my heart today, huh. i love writing angst but it always ends up hurting me :’)

terminally ill could be considered a heavy topic so i will tag it accordingly! poor mercs.. please enjoy! ❤️

[ TW: TERMINAL ILLNESS MENTION/ALCOHOL MENTION]

-

Scout:

scared to death for them. his face grows white upon hearing the news and he freezes, his stomach turning at the realization that he may lose the only person that could understand him, not as a scout but as himself.

will probably hurt more than his other half and the news weighs him down greatly, affecting his everyday tasks. he becomes very clingy and is worried that once he leaves their side, they’ll be gone from his reach.

not the best caretaker and doesn’t really know how to assist a sick person, so he calls his ma up for advice and tries his best to follow it, even if he makes a few stumbles here and there. you know he means well even if he nearly burns all the food he makes for you.

Soldier:

demands the medical center to do something about it and says it’s an order, his voice booming around the quiet area. when they apologize and inform him that nothing could be done, he nearly loses his shit and has to be held back before he decides to blow up the place.

tries to be strong for them, even if he’s godly worried but doesn’t show it. he highly believes they can make it through their sickness and tries to keep their spirit up no matter how low the day is; “this disease has got nothing on you, cupcake! you are the strongest fighter i know!” and when they smile, it motivates him to continue on.

Pyro:

they whimper cause they know something isn’t right. though they can’t quite put their finger on it, they do notice the change of behavior their s/o has as time passes. the way they drag their body, eat and sleep less, often too weak to move and it just worries them. they know something is wrong.

hugs and rainbows and everything bright makes everyone happy right? so they do just that. even if they can’t understand what they’re going through, they try to cheer them up with everything they have; stuffed animals, their favorite food, cuddles and even sets up little skits for them.

on their worse days, where they’re terribly ill and can’t build up the strength to do even the simplest of tasks, they just stay by their side, hugging them here and there to show that they’re not alone.

Demoman:

tavish is heart broken but he doesn’t show it to his s/o. the last thing they need to see is another crying face around them. instead, he asks how his s/o how they’re feeling and comforts them in their time of need despite the tears threatening to spill.

he mostly grieves in silence at first, not even alcohol being able to silence the pain that ached inside him. he cries to himself for a while until his s/o catches him one night, hunched over on the table while he let out soft sobs. they hug him from behind until he’s ready to talk and when he does, he feels much better. 

once he composes himself the day after, he tries to cut down on the alcohol to be sober enough to care for his s/o properly. he wants to be there for them completely in their time of need.

Heavy:

is deeply saddened for his s/o, not knowing the impact it had placed on their shoulders. he doesn’t say much but hugs them gently, caressing their back for comfort. “(y/n) will be okay. misha is here.”

he’s already a worry wart so upon learning this, he becomes even worse with his concerns and frets about his s/o often, commenting on every little thing. if they cough too loud or even vomit, he freaks out inwardly and does everything and anything he can to help them.

he often asks medic for advice on how to help them cope with their disease at the least and follows his tips to the bone. he also makes sure that his s/o doesn’t overwork themselves at all and tells them to rest often.

Medic:

he thinks that the doctor is just pulling shit out of their ass and probably just giving his s/o a scare. they’ve been acting and looking fine lately, so it’d be strange for them to have an incurable disease. he brushes it off his shoulders for the time being.

but then as he slowly observes them more, he does notice major changes that he hadn’t caught before. the way they moved, spoke, and even the way their beautiful smile weakened eventually caught up to him and he’s completely devastated, reality finally striking him.

stays up countless nights to find a cure, anything and everything that could at least prevent it from worsening. it’s true, he could always bring people back to life but it wasn’t always an assurity and he wasn’t sure if a disease was the same, so it worries him more. even if his s/o begs him to take a break, he just won’t. not when they’re in danger.

Sniper:

he gets angry at the doctor at first, spewing out questions that he knew the doctor couldnt answer himself; “wut do ya mean ya weasels can’t do a thing? isn’t that your job?” when his s/o drags him out of the medical center, he grows eerily quiet compared to the moments earlier and keeps his head down the rest of the way home.

when his s/o does confront him later that night, they cup both his scruffy cheeks in their hands and he leans into their touch unconciously. “i’m gonna be okay.” he stays quiet, staring at them with a sullen expression. “oi know.” he murmurs, “oim just- just afraid to lose ya.” and they shake their head and wrap their arms around his torso, “you won’t.”

afraid is just the beginning. he’s utterly mortified with the idea of losing them, often keeping him awake at night and sending him into nightmares. he’s lost so many people in his life and he knows the pain of it, but this was different. this pain is absolutely unbearable and he holds them tight as they sleep, silently begging that they don’t take away the one perfect thing he has going in his life.

Engineer:

he tries not to cry right in front of his s/o as they announce the news to the both of them, but his s/o knows he’s one second away from breaking down so they pull him out of there as soon as possible. he tearfully apologizes to them, blaming himself for not taking care of them more often and how he should’ve noticed. his s/o tries to reassure him it’s not his fault but it doesn’t really change his mind.

doesn’t deal with the idea of losing his s/o very well. he smiles less and worries more, stressing himself out but tries to maintain his positive attitude for the sake of keeping them happy during these times.

anything his s/o needs, he does without a complaint. no matter what time of the day or how busy he is, he will drop it just to attend to them. he takes it up a notch once he’s aware his s/o is sick and you best believe it’ll be done in a heartbeat once those words leave your mouth.

Spy:

he’s had a feeling for a while that his other half was sick, hence the reason why he forcefully decided to drag them to the hospital. when the news is confirmed, he thanks the doctors and quietly pulls them out of the building. he sees the teary eyes of his s/o and sighs deeply, embracing them in a tight hug, whispering sweet nothings to them.

is aware that their s/o’s mental health may decline due to the sudden shock and tries to lighten up their day often, buying them things they want or complimenting them whenever he sees them. he also starts conversations whenever they’re around. even goes as far as dancing with them in the middle of his quarters.

makes sure his s/o is relaxed as possible at the same time. he messages their back and wherever it hurts, holds them whenever they need it, and becomes a mother hen whenever they fall terribly ill. even if he’s outwardly fine, he’s honestly devastated but tries to keep his head on his shoulders, knowing that panicking will only worsen the situation.

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Seven

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

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

Part 7 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: abusive parental relationship; strong language; canon-level violence (explosions); mentions of alcohol poisoning; mention of Infinity War/Endgame deaths; perceived domestic partner abuse (no such thing actually happens!); concussions and minor injuries; mentions of arranged marriages; mentions of drug smuggling and human smuggling; lying; ANGST!

Word Count: 14,100+

A/N: So close to the finish line...

~

Spain, 2024, 5:07 pm.

    “Get the damn ice cream, Peter. I’m not holding you back.”

The kid sped down the sidewalk as fast as his feet would let him, skips in his steps and ignoring the chastising yells from Bucky. 

“You’re letting him have sugar?” Bucky whines, sluggish in his own steps. The Spanish summer sun was blaring, burning your forehead and building the same cold craving in your throat. It was just the three of you, carefree but melting, happy but annoyed with the constant proximity of each other. The villa (if you could call it that, it was more of a cottage) was listed as having three rooms - not the two you were stuck with. Bucky was at the last inch of self-control, begging you to switch with him - if only for one night - because ‘the kid fuckin’ talks in his sleep, doll! One more night and I might smother him.’

It was Bucky’s idea to take a little vacation. A year after the blip and only a few months after Peter’s world was turned upside down, a vacation seemed like the best choice. Preferably somewhere that was quiet and somewhat rural - somewhere you guys won’t be easily recognized. 

So the three of you packed and flew across the pond. In all honesty, you hadn’t even told the rest of the team where you were going besides Wanda. One day you were greeting them in the common room and preparing lunch, the other you were throwing your suitcase in one of the two vacant rooms in this little Spanish cottage. The three of you were truly off the map in terms of late notice. 

“Let the kid live. He’s having a mid-life crisis at eighteen.”

“I’ve had more mid-life crisis’s than his age combined. He’s not special.” The pointed look on your face had Bucky sighing in small defeat. “Okay, okay.”

These past two weeks in shared solitude, even if this trip was supposed to be relaxing, was beginning to melt into a tiresome routine. Well, just nights. The days were mild at best. And to make matters worse, you and Bucky had been dodging the team’s calls, messages that you left for voicemail. Bucky had clicked ‘end call’ more times than he could count and his excuse was always, ‘ the kid doesn’t want to leave, doll.’ Even annoyed with Peter, Bucky wanted only the best. 

It was only a matter of time until your phones were tracked and you were forced to come home. Everyone probably knew where you were anyway - you weren’t exactly hiding. But since you already got a good two weeks in, you figured they had taken some sympathy. 

“Think we can get him to visit a museum today or something?”

Bucky shrugged, lining up at the coffee stand near the ice cream cart. “Saw him checking out banana bread recipes last night. Seems more like a baking day.”

You could go for some banana bread. Ordering two iced coffees and making more miscellaneous small talk while waiting for Peter to order, you studied the streets of Spain. The country had suffered greatly when, cruelly, more than half their population disappeared. Left in proper ruins, no one believed it would ever recover. But then there was an election, a change in the structural government, and it just… did. They rebuilt themselves better than any country had, in your opinion. 

It was a rather calm day with minimal people out and about. It was exactly what you guys deserved after every mission - in your case, after a long month of PR recovery after that bar fight alongside Sam. 

“You bake, Barnes?”

He smiled fully, “Any chance I get.”

“You guys want anything?” Peter yelled out, bouncing lightly on his heels as he waited. You waved him off. “You sure? It’s pretty cheap for summer prices!”

After rejecting Peter’s dozen ice cream questions and offers, the three of you decided the heat was a little too much to bear, even with sunscreen. Peter spoke most of the way. Something about that banana bread.

Bucky, being the baker, helped him choose the best recipe of the four Peter had bookmarked and soon the kitchen was only half dirty with eggs and mashed bananas.

“What do you mean a cup of baking soda, kid? Use your eyes,” Bucky yelled in second hand embarrassment. “I don’t think a cup of baking soda goes in anything.”

“Read right here, dude,” Peter poked at his tablet. “A cuuuu... okay. Okay, I see what I read wrong.”

“You two better be making me some good ass banana bread today. I don’t want to throw up!” You had opted to let the two men have their fun in the kitchen. You tried to bake, but you were more of a cook than anything else.

“You could be reading out the directions.”

“I could do a lot of things,” you respond with the emphasis on “could”.

The doorbell interrupted your no-so-real argument. Peter snickered, “You could get the door.”

With a displeased grunt and a straightened middle finger to the kid, you opened the door to find two people who were definitely not invited. Clint, with this magical and massive smile on his face and Steve, with his eyebrow cocked and arms crossed.

“Oh, would you look at that. Guests! Welcome to our humble abode!”

“Now, how and why?” Bucky groaned. But his actions contradict his words as he went to give Steve a hug, covered in flour and all.

“Hey, Clint,” you mumbled, purposely ignoring the super soldier side-eyeing you. “Care to tell us what you’re doing here?

Clint returned your warm smile, “See, Cap? They’re safe. Can we go now?”

Steve rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest in a rather demanding way. “We’re here to take them home, Clint.”

Bucky scoffs.

“Eh, you might be. But I’m here to soak up some of this Spanish sun.” A low grunt sounded in the back of Clint’s throat as he spoke. He was already making his way to pick at the mashed ingredients. 

“You heard the man, pal,” Bucky slaps Steve’s shoulder, leaving him at the door as well. Awkwardly left alone, you blow a small raspberry and step aside to let Steve in. Bucky continues, “We’re here to soak up some sun. And I’m not done soakin’.”

With great protest, Steve maneuvers Bucky away from the kitchen and into the hallway beside the master bedroom. With both super soldiers out of the way, you finally go to help Peter with mixing. “Why did he come, really?”

Clint shrugs, arms deep inside your cabinets and collecting whatever desserts you had pre-packaged. “Honestly? I think he missed you guys.”

“All this drama because he misses Bucky? He could have just shown up declaring truce and had a nice little vacation,” you mumbled, glaring at Steve from behind. 

“Think he felt like he needed an excuse to even show up. But they really are asking for you guys back home. Threatened to arrest your ass.”

“Lucky me.”

You could make out snippets of their tiny argument up ahead. 

‘You could have called.’

‘You haven’t been answering the phone, Buck.’

‘I’ve been relaxing.’

A heavy sigh. 

‘I just thought we told each other everything.’

‘Believe it or not, Steve… but I’ve got more friends now. Isn’t that what you wanted? I’m not trying to ignore you, I - I just needed to help another friend out this time.’

Peter, with great care, washes his hands and makes sure there aren't any random mashes of banana on his clothing before he side-steps you and Clint to interrupt the very ‘private’ conversation between the super soldiers. “Hey, Mr. Steve- Cap, hey.”

Steve immediately lets his hard gaze falter. “Hey, kid. You doin’ good?”

Peter nods in response. 

“He’s doing great! Much needed vacation that still isn’t over.”

“Buck.”

Inserting yourself may not have been the best option. “Give it up, Rogers. We’re on vacation. And until the kid says he’s ready to go home, we go home.”

Peter fumbles, “Oh, please don’t put me on the spot like that. I’m not good with confrontation.”

Bucky quickly answers before Steve can, “It’s not confrontation, Peter. We love being out here and if it’s helping your mental health, we’re not going to take that away from you.”

Steve blinks and his expression looks like one of hurt. “You think I wanna do that? The literal president has been asking for your location. You’re not allowed to leave the country.”

You shrug, “Well, no one told me that.”

“Buck, you were just granted immunity three months ago. And you go and drop off the face of the earth?”

“I’m literally in Spain.”

Steve blinks again. He really can’t believe he’s got to deal with two people with similar personalities. “Your point?”

“On Earth…?”

Clint decides to make his presence known. He has even inserted the poured batter into the glass tray for you guys. “Why don’t we just stay with ‘em, Cap? God knows you need a vacation, too.”

“We have two rooms. You’d be bunking on the floor,” you say, pointing to random areas on the floor.

Clint waves his hand in the air, “Not the worst place I’ve slept in.”

“I’m being hounded day and night to bring you three home.” Steve looks about ready to burst into tears of frustration.

“Turn off your phone?”

Steve whips his head and stomps to close the few feet of distance between the two of you. “You really think it’s that easy? You really think I wasn’t worried when my two best friends just disappeared one night and didn’t tell me?”

Two.

Best. 

Friends. 

Before you could even comment, Bucky puts on the dramatics.  “We ran away together, Stevie. We meant to tell you.”

Steve takes a moment, just staring at the ceiling and piecing together his thoughts. “Joke all you want, Buck. I’m bringing you home.”

“Ste-”

“No!” He’s stomping back to the front door now. “I’ve had enough! I can’t stand not knowing where you guys are all day when bad things keep happening in this world. Just… just come home.”

All is quiet besides the quiet munching of Clint and his rogue cookie. Steve’s face did this thing when he was at war with himself, anxiety crawling up his arms or panic weighing his empty stomach down. His face drained color and that perfect renaissance oil lost its blush, blended paint that turned a murky gray. A masterpiece lost in storage.

“I can take the couch,” you whisper, arms erupting in goosebumps. “You guys can stay the night and we’ll go home tomorrow, okay? Or somewhere pre-approved, I guess.”

Bucky didn’t argue. Neither did Peter. 

Steve's imaginary painter adds the softest pink back to Steve’s cheeks as you compile a mess of blankets and pillows for him.

Present Day, 2025, 7:15 am

     There’s a warmth near you as you begin to lazily shuffle against the sheets, heavy on your chest but comfortable all in all. 

There are no worries, no sudden bursts of Avenger business, no fights needing to be fought. Simply Steve warm against you with sunlight draping over his bare and freckled shoulders. 

The serum enhanced for the sole purpose of strength and survival. And sure, it healed the body quicker than the average human body could naturally, but the one thing it couldn’t do was strip personality. 

Steve had freckles splattered along his broad shoulders and down to in between his shoulder blades, light in color and all similar in size. Something a lot of people hated about themselves and tried to cover up while others tried to mimic. The serum was supposed to heal damaged skin, sunburnt areas, birthmarks, and even moles - at least, that’s what the official 1943 report had claimed. 

But over the years, Steve had continued to age and grow into his new body. And while he couldn’t get dangerously sick anymore, anything unknown could still occur. No one had the same serum as Steve and last Tony had heard, Peggy had spilled the last remnants of Steve’s original DNA (blood they took before the procedure) in the Hudson. Bucky seemed to be experiencing the same natural changes as well. 

It had been proven that neither Steve nor Bucky could carry or transmit diseases, experience abnormal cell production, nor could they develop a lifelong ailment without severe reason. 

So imagine everyone’s surprise when Clint called one morning while deep in a routine mission (somewhere in Africa, you really don’t remember) to relay the news that, ‘you guys aren’t gonna fucking believe this - yeah Rogers, I’m telling them the hilarious news right now - Steve’s appendix just up and exploded last night - hey! He just stole - hold on. Give me back my hearing aid, you abelist fuck!’. 

Steve had stretch marks on his back from the procedure, his elbow still hurt from time to time after he had snapped it a year ago, and the white scar above his right hip reminded him that even super soldiers are not exempt from the wonders of the appendix. 

His breathing was slow and his eyelids flickered. Seemed he was enjoying his first deep sleep in a while. You craned your neck to try and read the cable box across the room, slightly making out a seven in the front before you gave up. You were due for your annual eye appointment, anyway. 

Steve did have perfect eyesight though, so damn him.

You shrugged the sheets from your arms. He was on his stomach, cheek planted on your chest and right foot dangling off the side of the bed. His left arm was draped over your middle and his right was tucked inside a pillowcase. His hair draped over his forehead and some of it was still tucked behind his ears. 

Careful to not wake him, you gently traced the ridge of his nose with your index finger, resting it on the tip that always turned bright pink regardless of mood. Once at the end, you went back up to trace it again. 

“Beak,” you whispered more to yourself, and you bit your lip to suppress the overwhelming urge to giggle. 

Steve was here, next to and near you, and he was so warm. 

You could have stayed in bed for hours, sleeping and cuddling and fucking, and you would bet your left kidney that Steve wanted that too. It was impossible to question it, it had to be, because Steve was too genuine. You had met hundreds of men in your life: some the literal devil, some cowards, some reserved, and rarely, some genuine at heart. Steve fit some category that didn’t even exist. 

You wanted to love him and hate him. You wanted to make love and fuck him. You wanted to kiss him and annoy him. He checked a box that didn’t exist but that you would just have to reserve for him. The annoying little shit who could lift Thor’s hammer. 

The door almost ripped off its hinges by the brute force of someone’s leg. You didn’t even fully register being crushed by Steve until his elbow stabbed you right in the gut. 

“Rogers!” you groaned in pain and half trying to reach for your pistol on the bedside table. 

There was a collective gasp of surprise (and maybe terror) from the people that just broke down your door. After yesterday’s unplanned run-in with Ramirez, no doubt this was called-for.

“Oh, hell…” Sam grumbled, lowering his gun the second he realized two of his friends were sharing one bed. “Lemme guess, the other bed’s mattress was too firm but this one’s just right.”

Bucky stood behind him, a knowing smirk plastered on his smug face. He looked between you and Steve, ignoring the way Scott was practically pulling his shoulder down in pure fits of laughter. Didn’t take much for Scott to tip himself over and almost drag Bucky down with him. 

“Couldn’t you knock?” Steve nearly yelled, body still trying to shield yours even though you were fully dressed. You were struggling to push him away in pure embarrassment, but he seemed intent with this form of protection. 

“You weren’t answering your phone! We changed our check-in times to seven instead of eight, remember?”

Steve, ever the gentleman, brought the sheets up higher for you and finally lifted himself out of bed. 

And Bucky, ever the gentleman who has been spending way too much time with Clint, nodded his head toward you. “You two fuck?”

Mouth dropping in humiliation, you pulled the sheets up over your head and screamed into the temporary cover. Steve sputtered over whatever explanation he was thinking of pulling out of his ass. 

“You two fucked,” Bucky smugly confirmed. 

Steve pulled on the nearest shirt and went to kick Scott, who was ‘criss-cross apple-sauced’ on the floor and laughing way too loudly. “Is it really any of your business?”

“Man, that’s an answer!” Sam was about to fall into the same fit as Scott. 

Annoyed, and fueled by that annoyance, you ripped the sheets off and marched for the bathroom. “You really want to know, you nosy little fucks? We did fuck and he made me come three times. Ask him how, I’m sure he’ll teach you a thing or two, no matter how embarrassed he may seem right now.”

You left him alone. You literally just exposed him and you left him alone with the wolves. 

All was quiet until Sam blew a small raspberry. “Three times?”

     Bucky didn’t need to speak to show he was about to tease the hell out of you. He simply sipped his coffee until he emptied it, and then refilled it. You couldn’t even finish a single mug yet because you were waiting to break the tension. 

Looking around the hotel bar because he still valued your privacy, Bucky made sure to keep his voice low. “Three times?”

Half wanting to slap the smirk off his face and the other half wanting to announce Steve’s naughty accomplishment, you settled for pouring more coffee into your mug. 

“Don’t you dare hold what I said against me, I literally had just woken up.”

“Mm, yeah. I remember how you literally moaned Thor’s name when you were startled awake from a nap in the living room.”

“Bucky!” you yelled, turning your shoulders inwards when you received a few odd looks from other early risers. Well, some were early risers. The person closest to the door was an agent, as was the other eating breakfast at the bar. “You promised you would never mention that again!”

He shook his head with amusement, “I can’t believe you swore me to secrecy when Loki basically told everyone.”

“He-!” Choking on your own spit, you slid lower into your booth. “That mischievous, conniving, son of a bitch.”

“In all honesty, I think that was his way of flirting with you.”

“Telling everyone I had a wet dream about his brother?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be the first.”

You smirked, “Oh, trust me. I know.”

Bucky squinted, guilty in his spoken words. “All I’m saying is, it’s nice that you didn’t just write Steve off with us, as if nothing happened.”

It made your heart swell that even in a moment with you, Bucky would still always protect Steve. 

“I would never. We actually talked last night and he really apologized.”

“Really?” His eyes were hopeful. 

“He did. And as cliche as it sounds, one thing led to another.”

You realized your earlier words were contradictory when Bucky sighed sadly, “This better not have been a one time thing. I’ll strangle you both.”

You scoffed and finally took a piece of that blueberry muffin on your plate. “Screw you, Barnes. It’s Steve we’re talking about. I’d give him the world if I could.”

That made Bucky blush. “God, I’m stupidly happy for him. I always said he’d need to find a dame who had as big of a mouth as he does.”

Rolling your eyes, you offered him some of that muffin. He gladly broke off a piece. “Don’t go marrying us off just yet.”

“Doll, he almost imploded when we discovered you slept together. Teasing him about proposing might just kill him.”

You laughed at that. Although Steve had admitted he regretted the time you lost, there wasn’t any chance he would push you any further. He was probably comfortable with taking things slow, no matter the history. You had that in common. 

“Seems we’re all just gonna have to make sure we don’t cause his demise.”

Smiling as he chewed, Bucky played with your feet under the table. Safe moments like these always occurred before a mission, no matter how simple or heavy they were. And like people love to say, you never fought with each other before. Just in case. 

Going to bed angry was another thing entirely. That, the whole team was proficient in. 

“You ready for tonight?”

Yesterday had definitely turned you against the very concept of family reunions, what with the small ache between your shoulders. You were angry with Seda, with Ernesto, disappointed with Ramirez, and neutral toward your sister. 

God, your sister. This would be the first time since you left Mexico for school and SHIELD that you would be seeing her, as well as your other siblings. Jackeline was perhaps the only sibling you had some real memories with. Everyone else was already deep in the business or far away from the chaos. The team only knew of two other siblings who rsvp’d. The others: radio silence. 

“Part of me just wants a normal family wedding. I’m kinda hoping we can just end it all tonight.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Bucky chuckled, finishing off your muffin for you. “You’ll get some closure soon enough.”

There was no such thing as closure. Just less of a constant sting. 

“Bucky,” you spoke seriously now. “My father made Steve sign something yesterday.”

“He told us at the debrief yesterday.”

“When did you have a debrief?”

Bucky scooted in his booth, quickly explaining. “Uh well, it wasn’t so much of a debrief as it was a simple overview. Just a heads up.”

You tilted your head, somewhat unconvinced. “Uh-huh… but we could void it, right? He had a fucking notary there and everything.”

“We can declare it void, yeah Y/N,” he grabbed your hand over the table. “He won’t get tangled in this.”

With a heavy sigh, you gripped Bucky’s hand tighter. “I’m really glad you guys are gonna help us.”

He returned your smile. “Anything for family.”

Family. 

After all these years of self-hatred and despising your own blood, you blinded yourself of the simple truth that you already had a real family. Whether you were accepted after Sokovia, or after you helped Steve escape with Bucky, or after those long five years, you were accepted. And you accepted them right back. 

    The briefing goes as expected. Didn’t seem like anyone was going to live down the now obvious fact that you and Steve had slept together after years of unnoticed pining. You simply took the teasing in stride, better than Steve even, who stuffed his face full of chips in embarrassment.

The plan was simple but ever-evolving. The three of them will hang back: Bucky at the hotel, Scott and Sam at the nearby base with Torres. The base was fifteen minutes from the estate, hidden behind those same pine trees but the perfect cover - it was a nearby diner. Steve will still take the shield, FRIDAY was installed on your personal phones, and any weapons you attached to your person were specifically made to deter metal detectors. Once in, it was mingle, mingle, mingle.

There were going to be a thousand questions to answer: What in the world is Captain America doing here? Is he here to cause trouble? Are you two seriously dating? So, Captain America being one of us means holding Thor’s hammer was a myth, aye?

Then you would move on to the more important guests. Jackeline’s greeting would be more of a reunion. But flying under and over the radar had to walk the same line - you needed to mix in with the crowd and make sure they see you participating, but then escape for a little while to continue the mission.

Once in, the task was to electronically and physically retrieve everything Scott didn’t have time to yesterday, plus the new information Ernesto got for today and tomorrow. His latest emails, list of contacts, checks, birth certificates, video evidence.

“Do we all know our duties?”

You wanted to wrap up Steve’s commanding voice and keep it a special secret, a secret that was yours and the team’s to share.

“We got it, Cap. For the tenth time this week - you two okay?”

Sam was rewarded with a slanted smile. “Everytime you ask me that, I’ll lie.”

He nods, “At least you admit it. You’re not alone in this.”

“For years,” you continued, “It’s been that way. I guess I’m both ready for it to end and not. I want them behind bars. I don’t want the repercussions.”

“Makes sense,” Bucky agrees. “At least part of the fight will be over.”

Beside you, Steve clenches his jaw. “We’re always fighting.”

Bucky grins at him, “Yeah.” There’s a sparkle in his eye as he leans forward to squeeze Steve’s thigh. “At least it’s not with each other anymore.”

     They weren’t lying when they said vibranium was lightweight. Felt different from nano-tech and was an obvious change from your regular body suit. You felt protected and stylish. Good, because even though you weren’t obligated to impress those vultures, there were still a few cousins and extended family members you wanted compliments from. And?

The black turtleneck was warmer than you expected and didn’t strangle you. You were a bundle of velvet bliss right now. The cuffs were a golden brown, completely made from vibranium. Modeling in the mirror, you whispered a few ‘pew-pew’s as you blocked pretend bullets. C’mon, golden bracelets? You were basically Wonder Woman. 

The tights were your own, thin and black and you could still see there were faint bruises on your knees from training. Once all that was situated, you pulled on the long skirt and tucked in the bottom of your shirt, glad the way the high-waisted design sucked everything in. The skirt was the same golden brown as the cuffs, shorter in the front and wavy as it draped down the back, barely reaching your ankles. You tied the skirt’s belt in a tight bow and pulled on the black boots Shuri had also sent you. The heel was thick and short, and the boot was pretty tight around the top of your ankle. 

Time was ticking on that well-deserved goody basket you were meaning to send to the royal siblings. 

Hoop earrings, three rings dressing your left hand, a simple golden necklace - now you need to do your hair and make-up. 

Steve was just patiently waiting for his turn in the bathroom, bless his heart. 

     “Scott said the files are in his personal belongings. We suspect he’s planning to smuggle over fifty people tomorrow. Their records should be hidden away in those belongings, too.” 

Sam always kept a leveled head in dire situations like these. He was rational and helpful, always waited until the job was done and everyone was safe before he had a drink or a cry. It was safest, perhaps the most fair thing the Avengers could do for the public after destroying half the cities they fought in. The media didn’t need to know about the late-night fights, alcohol poisoning, or frequent therapy sessions. Your coping methods were all different - Steve has no doubt Sam will immediately pack an overnight bag and Bucky to visit his sister and nephews once the wedding concluded. 

Steve? Well, Steve was surprisingly calm, all things considered. 

“You get any hits yet? Anything from Ramirez that could help us find those people sooner?”

Sam sighs sadly, shaking his head. “It’s looking like we’re heading into a full-on fight.”

That’s not what Steve wanted to hear. A ‘full-on’ fight almost always had accidents, misfires, innocent casualties, and a few cuts and scrapes to add to his own personal collection. 

“Sam,” Steve puts down the files in his hand and shuts off his monitor to signal he’s done researching for the night. “I really don’t know how to thank you.”

“You know,” Sam smiles at him, “I’m gettin’ real tired hearin’ you say that.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. Sam gently exhales - Steve can feel it. 

“You two really are the same.” Sam points at Steve and to the bathroom door. “Always apologizing for shit you can’t control.”

Steve looks down to his feet, a blush in his pale cheeks. After failing to clip his cufflinks on his own, he holds his arms out to Sam who happily clips them for him. 

“Is it real?”

Steve pauses. He doesn’t really need to think about it because he knows. He’s known for a while even if he was on autopilot. The pause only serves to help him catch his breath from the happy prickle that crawls up his spine. “As real as second chances go.”

Sam laughs and claps his shoulder, “I get it. We seem to get a hell of a lotta those.”

      Now that the mission was truly kicking into gear, fucking full speed ahead, Steve had no other choice but to pull shreds of Captain America from that metaphorical attic of his. Took everything in him to revert back, never fully, and each time would be different from the last. Sometimes it was mentally draining being responsible for a whole team and creating the plans, other times he regretfully felt like a colonizer, an intruder who followed orders from the top and was forced to execute them. This time around, he was stepping into uncharted territory, but still familiar, and he had a million roles to mime. 

“Steeeve.”

His smile was instant and he gravitated to your voice. “Hmm?”

“So, I have an idea for a hairstyle,” you reply, throwing open the bathroom door with a brush in one hand and the other holding the top layers of your hair up. “I got enough hair for it.”

“Tell me about it. It gets in the way of everything.”

“Haha.” You rolled your eyes, still trying to shovel more hair higher. “I curled it, so all I gotta do is tug this upper half up into a ponytail while the rest stays down. But can you help? My shoulders still hurt and I haven’t taken my advil yet.”

Steve shuffles back into the room to grab you two pills before he replaces his hands with yours. “So, just lift it up?”

You hum confirmation, watching Steve in the mirror as he pulled your thick curls higher, snapped the hair tie between his teeth, and tied it all. He pulled the strands outward so the high curls still fell around your face. The hairstyle would have been easier with extensions (for a much fuller look) but if you had to throw your body around these next two days, you’d rather save yourself the embarrassment of having them pulled off. 

“Thank you,” you blush. These moments were so intimate, so sweet, just you and Steve. “You need any help?”

Steve looks down at himself. He had already tied his own tie. He could style his own hair and comb his beard. “I think I’m good. Forgot to pack cologne, though.”

“I’ve got some perfume in my suitcase. There should be one in there that isn’t too flowery.”

Steve rolls his eyes and turns to leave. “Not really a problem, doll.”

Pulling on his suit jacket and reaching for your suitcase to set it on the bed, he miscalculated the balance he was so obviously lacking. Instead of toppling head first himself, he fumbles your suitcase and spills its contents on your bed. He stills for a second, looking to the closed bathroom door to see if you popped your head through to ask what the hell that sound was. But it remained closed, and Steve silently groaned because of his clumsiness. 

He tries his best to roll the clothing items back in, cursing whenever he would accidentally squeeze a perfume bottle you had hidden in there. He counted three. The one he picks smells like roses.

Amongst the ruins he finds your passport, multiple IDs, and two pairs of sunglasses. He chuckles to himself and thinks, we’ve been here for four days and she hasn’t worn these once.

A torn piece of paper stood out from the pile, folded neatly in its own envelope but still damaged. 

     CLINT

Curious, Steve opens the envelope, wholeheartedly expecting to find the written contents from the archer himself, but pauses when he reads the simple sentence, in your handwriting. 

‘After careful deliberation, I have come to the conclusion that I want you to have all my video games.’

If Steve didn’t know any better, and judging by the multiple other letters peeking through the torn tape from the corner of your suitcase, it sounded like a goodbye letter.

“What’s taking so long?”

Startled, Steve shoves the letter under the pile of clothes. “Uh, my clumsy ass spilled your clothes everywhere so I’m being good and fixing everything.”

“...annoying.”

Still, you stayed inside the bathroom.

He glanced back just to make sure. And he knew he shouldn’t be snooping, the guilt was already eating away at him, but he now noticed the lump under the torn tape and another envelope poking through. 

They were all signed for different people. Bucky, Wanda, Peter, Rhodey - 

The devil on his shoulder drowned the cries of the angel. 

Opening his, he prays for his quick reading skills to aid him before you realized what he was doing.       

Steve, 

     Believe when I say that I thought I would put a bullet in my father before he could. Whoops…

I don’t really know why I’m writing these letters besides the thrill of morbidity for my untimely death or because I’m an amateur writer on the side. I never know what to say to you, anyway. Whether it’s in person or on paper. I’ve got a hundred drawn-up speeches in my head I almost say to you. But they don’t come out when I want them to and it seems a bit much to write out the words to several imaginary crumpled pieces of paper. 

This will have to do. 

Steve, I know for a fact, deep in whatever soul I have left, that you are a good man. 

When the world fell apart, I held on to you. I don’t know why. Natasha bugged me about it, sent me those signature smirks of hers whenever we did anything remotely weird. She believed something was going on between us and I would get so angry with her because it was like she saw something I couldn’t. And I wanted to see it. Wrap it up for myself and live in the softness.

You slept by my side when I would ask, you let me look through your private sketchbook to help ease my mind, and you would jump at every chance to shield me from danger. Even when you know I can take care of myself. I don't know how many times I have to remind you. 

I don’t understand why you shut me out after we brought our friends back. And at the time, it hurt like hell. I literally wanted to kill you and then myself. It made no sense, it still doesn’t. I won’t lie and say it still surprises me or that it no longer hurts. ‘Cause I’m numb to it now and the pain is more of a dull ache. 

But I guess you had your reasons, no matter how hurtful, how ridiculous, no matter how stupid. 

Fuck, why didn’t you get some of that life Tony had always wanted for you? The question eats me alive. Maybe you did move on, maybe you would miss us too much, I truly don’t know. When you confessed to wanting some form of that life when we rescued Wanda, it just confused me more.

Then my father basically declared war and you cut me out. I can’t help but think you stayed behind to help me finish this, what with that righteous streak of yours, but if it is the case, then I am so sorry. 

You deserve to live, Steve. 

Guess what I really want to close with is this: find that life you always wanted. Buy a boat, or a cabin in the secluded woods and become a lumberjack, travel, open your own art museum - hell, erase all traces of your identity and sell painted landscapes for a living. 

In any form you find it, just try. You know I’m always rooting for you, and I’m always by your side. No matter how annoying and smart-mouthed you may be. 

There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than here, there, and everywhere with you. 

With as much love in me, 

    The swirl of your name leaves him disoriented, and slightly paralyzed. Steve licks the envelope closed.    

     Steve puts the very existence and contents of your letter to the back of his mind for the time being. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, no time to dissect it word for word. He’ll focus on it later. He still doesn’t know what reaction he should be experiencing. The letter was unexpected, yes, but it’s the matter of you writing a goodbye letter - as if you weren’t going to make it out of here alive. And that about saws Steve in two. 

Steve thinks the elevator comes too fast and wonders what he could do to stop time. The mics on your neck generate enough noise for you to hear the static on the other end. No one is currently online, and Steve cherishes the little moments he’s getting before having to transition into ‘Captain America’ mode. 

There wasn’t much time today to truly bask in the afterglow. The moment the elevator opens Steve literally drags you inside and captures your lips in a rather chaste kiss. It surprises you momentarily but you’re responding, and it’s fluid and familiar. The kiss is brief, but it feels as if your years mold into this single act, and Steve’s smiling wider than he has today when the first thing you say as you part is that maybe you chose the wrong shade of lipstick because it looks too damn dark on his lips.

The elevator reaches the ground floor and he looks over at you one last time in the privacy you’re afforded. He’s got that good ache in his chest again and it’s both calming and a little bittersweet, because staring at you is like staring at the sun - it hurts to look at for a long time but oh, so tempting. 

   The lawn was separated into two halves with only one fully decorated and the other still under a tarp, hidden because it was mid-construction and to not spoil the surprise. Over to the side, just left of the large lake, there was an extra tarp the workers were manning in case the clouds in the sky decided to cry. 

Jackeline had chosen violet as her main color scheme, with golden hues stitched alongside. The flowers, soft lights, marble floor, and desserts were all violet; the curtains and tarps, plates and glasses, flowers on the wall, and Jackeline’s rehearsal dress were all gold. Ernesto must have spent over a million dollars in the decorations alone. 

Everyone donned their best designers and since only family was in attendance today, the little amount of people were easily outdone one right after the other. In total, there were fifteen guests, and that included you and Steve: Ernesto, Seda, the groom’s father, Jackeline’s mother, two of your half-brothers, three aunts (sister’s of Ernesto), two cousins, the maid of honor, and Marcus White. 

They have already fawned over Steve, some with a major guard up as expected, but as Ernesto explains the specifics, everyone becomes more pleased than weary. ‘It was just too good to be true that the Avengers were all good’, someone announces. Steve grips your hand just a little tighter. 

The mere absence of Ramirez was enough of an answer: he really was going to be eliminated.

Across from your private corner, cheers and claps sound as the happy couple finally emerges. Even your father leaves mid-conversation to go greet her. 

She’s a fifties masterpiece. Her dark hair cascades in uneven but gentle layers, framing her face and she’s both glossy and matte. Her skin is darker and her eyebrows are fuller, widow’ peak and strong jaw, thin neck and perfectly rounded shoulders. She has a painted blush on her high cheekbones, dark eyeshadow and a faint cat eye, and the reddest, fullest lips that are already spitting wit as she greets her more serious guests. Her voice is high but steady and she’s so obviously the center of attention, she’s the literal bride, but you bet she could take over the room even if she wasn’t. Her fiancé, surprisingly enough, trails behind her as if he too is in a trance, greeting the same guests and attempting to match her enthusiasm. She’s making herself known, and she’s succeeding.

It isn’t until she locks her sight on you that Steve finally mumbles a quiet ‘woah’ underneath a shaky breath and you can’t blame him, dear god you can’t, because seeing her for the first time in six years is eating away at you. She’s nineteen, young and sweet, and still trapped in the world you were planning to destroy.   

Her first reaction is to run into your arms and hold you tightly, the force swinging you from side to side. Her giggles are contagious and you find yourself reacting similarly, grip tightening as she begins to ramble about how much she missed you and how proud she is that you have saved the world ten times over. The statement is overwhelming, but you find yourself nodding along in place of anything verbal.

Steve is patient as he witnesses this family reunion, standing at your side with respect and a tint of scarlet staining his cheeks. Finally, Jackeline turns to greet him and for a scary second, Steve sees Peggy.

“No way!” She keeps her voice low. “I could have sworn my bit-... uh, my bunch of tias were lying about you really being here.”

Steve shakes the fifties image from his head. The resemblance, even if Jackeline has more slanted eyes and a larger forehead, is uncanny. “Thank you so much for inviting us. The ride up was a bitch but we made the most of it.”

Jackeline stutters over her own laugh. “Oh.” She looks to you with a wide grin. “Oh, he’s a keeper.”

“Thought so myself,” you grin back. “You should hear him swear during a football game.”

“All men turn into animals when their teams don’t live up to expectations.”

Her accent is thicker than yours. Living in New York for over 10 years definitely helped smooth over some dialect and create your own voice. But Jackeline’s, considering she had never lived outside of Mexico, was thick and silky and resembled a place you no longer called home.

She pulls the man behind her forward, effectively interrupting and ending the conversation he was having with one of your cousins. “This is Julian. Julian, this is my one and only sister and her boyfriend!”

Julian, bless his heart, holds out a slightly shaking hand for you to shake. You do so, and try to convey calmness through it. When you watch his glance fall to Steve and feel his hand start to shake yours more rapidly, you can’t help but stifle a laugh.

“It’s an honor!” Julian finally says, voice deep and wracked with some nerves. He shakes Steve’s hand when he gets the chance. “Captain.”

“Please,” Jackeline rolls her eyes. “He’s just like us! You should be swooning over my sister, who is probably going to be the one to kill you if you ever hurt me.”

Julian blinks. His eyes go from Steve to you, contemplating his next move without wanting to seem rude. He nods in your direction. “I don’t doubt you would. Excuse me if I came off as rude. I’m just starstruck by this one here, is all.”

His accent matches Jackeline’s.

Steve waves his hand through the air. “You are not the first tonight, son.”

Sometimes you forget that Steve is an old man. Biologically, he’s in his mid-thirties. Ever changing and growing old as normal, but his soul is old. From a different time and out of it. The mere nickname he just gave Julian, no doubt because of his young age, leaves you averting your eyes and turning away to smile up at one of the many golden chandeliers.

“I really hope you enjoy tonight. The party may seem small right now, but trust me, half of Mexico will be dancing with us tomorrow night.” Jackeline bounces in place, hand intertwining with Julian’s, and she leans in to speak more clearly with you. “Meet me later? We have so much to catch up on.”

Agreeing, you watch the happy couple leave to converse with the few other guests.

Steve turns toward you, eyes squinted in amusement. “Is she really cheating on him with a man of the cloth?”

You can’t help the involuntary snort that leaves your nose. “The photos were watermarked, right? Time stamped? Maybe they’re old.”

Steve huffs a laugh and grabs two champagne glasses as the tray flies by him. “She’s got a way about her. Reminds me of a dame from this book I read a while back.”

Sipping your drink, you ponder. “What book?”

“The one where the dude gets shot at the end.”

“Oh, you mean every book from the 20th century?”

Steve laughs, “That twenties one!”

Mouth dropping, you push at his chest and turn to walk away. “You did not just compare her to Daisy from The Great Gatsby!”

Steve follows. “That’s the one! Honest! She has this way about her!”

    It’s not long after a few dances and photographs that you’re all seated for the actual dinner. There are three long tables, two parallel to each other and the main one perpendicular. You don’t know if it’s a power move or whatever, but your name cards are placed on one of the parallel tables. But it doesn’t bother you much since you have a front view of Seda and your father. 

Dinner is a six-course meal. Not that you assumed any different - Ernesto really went all out for his youngest child (that you know of). Your mics are picking up conversations left and right so you’re actually able to enjoy the meal. Salad, soup, a weird looking appetizer that’s actually quite delicious, the main course of either chicken/fish/or steak, and two desserts. All throughout, Steve is actually having the time of his life being fed so well. 

“Answer me this,” Steve leans in to whisper in your ear. “Are those hearts or paper airplanes hanging from the ceiling?”

You smiled against the ridge of your champagne glass, “You mean those clay flowers?”

“Is that what they are?” He pauses for a long second, squinting.

“Are your eyes going bad?” 

“Eyes don’t go bad.”

Your mouth falls open. “Your eyes are going bad!”

“Again,” Steve holds up a finger. “My eyes are just fine, not bad.”

Something else to add to that list you had made in the morning.

“This is fucking fantastic.”

Steve, still trying to casually squint, huffs. “Annoying...”

You bump his shoulder and lean in to whisper quietly. “Turns you on.”

Steve just blushes.

    It’s like he forgets where he is for a second, what with the great food and surprisingly good conversation with one of your brothers beside him. Steve’s already built a much stronger rapport with the thirty-something year old man than you have. There’s a stab of guilt for a second, a need to duck and drown in shame, when you realize you can’t even remember his name.

Ernesto stands to announce toasts. His is brief and not all that fatherly, but it’s the longest you’ve heard him string some nice words together. Seda follows, brief as well, and includes a childhood anecdote about her. Jackeline’s mother is a young woman, somewhere between forty and fifty, and her toast is only a sentence long - ‘Solo quiero que estas contenta, mi amor.’ For the first time tonight, Bucky voices his thoughts over the mic with a quiet and sad sounding hum.

Ernesto lifts himself from his chair, swatting away his men who go to help him. He has the microphone again and he’s walking toward you, face neutral. You know better than to refuse in front of this big of a crowd. Steve squeezes your hand before you stand and he remains beaming up at you from his seat. 

You’ve seen it in the movies - raise the glass, say some words, end it nicely. It’s what you do. But it feels surreal, almost unnerving when you don’t recognize the faces looking back at you. 

     “Here’s to you,” you lift your champagne glass, looking around at the happy yet solemn faces at the small table. 

“You deserve all the happiness available to you. You are so lucky to have each other,” you finish the toast and drink your whole glass. There is no applause, just sad smiles in response. You’re not asking for much, you never had.

Tony and Pepper share a quick kiss, thanking everyone around the table quickly as the two cakes are being cut. Their wedding was limited, with only a few people in attendance. Whoever was left. Tony’s cabin could obviously accommodate more people, but he had only requested the gathering of those he could stomach to see. But when that turned out to only be Pepper and Happy, he was forced to open the doors to more. 

So, you accepted your chocolate cake from Rhodey as he handed it to you. Shared some quick chit-chat with Steve and Natasha; greeted Thor as he made his first appearance in a while, hair now longer and baggy clothes hanging from his body, a tortured smile on his aging face; and sat through Happy’s own speech, enjoying his refreshing and joyful attitude. 

But now you stood in front of the kitchen sink, staring at the hidden picture frame behind the mugs - a reminder of what was really missing from this special day. 

You studied Peter’s awkward smile and demeanor, his expression youthful and frozen in time. He became foggy, silver clouds blotting his cheeks and his hair went white, and soon the sink sounded with a tiny ‘clunk!’ as you wept silently. 

You felt a hand slide into your own, squeezing with care and understanding. You looked up to see Steve, his eyes watching your face. He gave you one more gentle squeeze, the same tortured smile as Thor’s on his beautiful face, and walked to his room to retire for the night. 

     Glass raised in the air, you swallow in hopes of not choking over any word because of your nerves. 

“Here’s to you,” you start, already deciding this was going to be like pulling a band-aid. “May this world treat you kind, and that you are kind to each other, and that it’s all that matters.”

Steve forgets to drink. He can’t seem to shake the feeling of wanting to cry.

     Everyone watches as Steve leads you onto the dance floor which is intimidating with its glittering violet light and marble that resembles polished glass. If these were the decorations for the rehearsal dinner, Steve can’t even begin to bet on how tomorrow’s going to look. 

Steve holds you close, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other framing your spine. It’s like a tight hug. “Do you enjoy dancing?”

You step on his foot once again. “Shut up, Steve. Tell me your real thoughts.”

“Who, me?”

“Steve.”

“You suck at dancing.”

“There it is.”

     It isn’t hard to sneak away once everyone piles onto the dance floor. Steve shares a few dances with your aunts before excusing himself to use the bathroom. 

The mission itself goes rather smoothly. Infiltrating and collecting information was childsplay. Amateur. You’ve done it a thousand times and your father isn’t exactly a tech wizard. Neither is Seda. 

You find the electronic bank records Scott couldn’t yesterday, as well as a detailed spreadsheet (more like a hitlist) dating ten years back. In the same file, this actually only slightly encrypted (slightly), are the names of high-level players involved. It’s color-coded, some names familiar because of their involvement with Hydra, and it’s only a matter of seconds before you notice that red means eliminated, black means still at large, and blue means ally. 

There’s a lump in your throat as you scroll through and find Steve’s name, thankfully in blue. It’s expected, so you simply move on, until you find yours. And it’s in black. 

It should terrify you, have you running for the hills and tucking your tail between your legs but you’re won’t because Steve’s name is blue. 

That’s all that matters. 

There’s still no concrete information about the shipment, nothing online or on a loose post-it note. It’s non-existent and that’s suspicious and you don’t know why you don’t voice that to Steve. He’s listening at the door and responding to Sam’s questions. You and Scott are the hackers of the group after all. 

You scan through drawers and cabinets, snapping photos of things you can’t take just yet and filing the papers you can. Papers detailing contracts and miscellaneous connections: lawyers, doctors, politicians, police. Once that’s done, you shrink the evidence to the size of a fingernail with the help of Scott’s tech and hide it in your bra. 

Surprisingly enough, the two of you are able to slip out of the office and the first couple living rooms undetected. Until Jackeline herself appears, pulling down her dress as she exits the bathroom. Steve, stunned by the presence of anyone, pulls you toward his chest with unfocused strength. You hiss loudly and naturally go to cup your injured elbow. It takes a moment for Steve to realize what he’s done and who he’s done it to. 

Jackeline nearly stumbles over her heels out of pure clumsiness but her mouth parts as she notices you and the harsh sound you make. If she truly saw or heard anything, she’s keeping it to herself it seems. 

“Ernesto wanted to see me before we called it a night,” Steve says, letting go of your arm and taking a step back. He doesn’t outright say he’s sorry; he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to. So he braves a smile, sends you a look, and excuses himself. 

No conversation ever comes naturally - or, rather they take at least minimal effort from either party. You say the first thing you can think of and that’s to congratulate her again. 

Your rambling sort of sounds like the toast you gave earlier, but Jackeline either doesn’t want to embarrass you or simply doesn’t notice. She waits for the pause in your voice before she finally speaks.

“Before I start, don’t hate me for this.”

“That’s not a good way to start a sente-” Your face is smacked to the side absurdly hard and you can feel the sting at the base of your neck. You look back at your sister with wide eyes.

“You couldn’t leave the world dead? He was finally dead!”

Baffled, you rub at your sore cheek. “Why am I the one getting the most blame for that? I followed a fucking raccoon around and I didn’t even snap my fingers!”

“Sorry,” she blinks, eyebrows scrunching as she thinks of the next thing to say. “Sorry, I just… it was that easy to kill him and then he just… wasn’t.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but you were also dead.”

“I was.”

“And we brought back trillions.”

“I know.”

Never once did you wonder what your siblings might have thought. More than half of them were separated from this life, while a few remained and conquered their allowed sectors. Ernesto had never discussed which of his children would take over his seat. But when he was dusted and Seda assumed power, it was clear not one sibling wanted anything to do with it. Or they were just too scared to outright disobey Seda and his tyranny.

Jackeline stands tall, shoulders straight and chin held high. She didn’t seem to worry about the repercussions of her actions - she knows who you are and what you are capable of. The smack seemed deliberate but restrained.

“So?” It’s the only word you can muster up.

“Please don’t judge me.” Her confidence falters and her eyebrows push down even further. “I know you know.”

“You gotta spell it out because I know a lot of things.”

Sighing deeply, she grabs the hand you’re using to rub at your cheek. She grips it tightly as she speaks. “I love him. But he’s impossible to love now and I can’t do anything about it.”

“Oh, Jackeline…”

You could have contacted her. You were on social media - you could have followed her, maybe messaged her annually - hell, called her once in a while to simply check in. The ticket you got was always a temporary one: go to school and find a way to make the trade routes easier to travel. School finished, you found Fury, and you created an alternate identity and background plan to trick your family into doing just what they ordered. And during all that time, Jackeline was barely in her pre-teens, probably scared and alone and missing her only sister. This was just you throwing that smack out of proportion but there was truth in it all. Wasn’t there?

“Julian’s okay. I agreed to this arranged marriage. I’m sure I can grow to love him,” she shrugs, biting her lip as it begins to quiver.

Her eyes are no longer happy - perhaps that was the wrong word to use after she had just confided in you about the reality of her upcoming union. But they definitely seem more dull in comparison to the joyfulness she presented earlier tonight.

“Jackeline, you don’t have to-”

“No, I was gone those five years. He had to move on.” You drop your shoulders and lean forward to give her a hug. No matter how badly you wanted to wrap your hands around Ernesto’s neck, they had more use tenderly wrapped around your sister. 

Relishing the feeling for only a moment longer, Jackeline is ignited once again. “Besides, I should be telling you that! I saw the way that… that fascist pulled you. If he’s hurting you, I’ll kill him.”

Your eyes must be bulging out of your head. “Oh.” 

She looks at you as if you’re going to admit abuse and confide in her like she did you. “No, it’s okay. Steve’s perfect, he’s… wonderful.”

Jackeline shakes her head rapidly, “Don’t you lie to me. I know what I saw.”

“I’m not lying. But you gotta trust me. I’ll explain later-”

“Explain what?”

Seda breaks the conversation and you forget to curse inwardly. Instead, a mumbled ‘fuck’ is heard. It only serves to fuel the flame. Jackeline flashes a rehearsed smile, and she truly is your sister because for a sad moment she looks exactly like you.

“Explain why she never returned my calls to be my maid of honor! I swear, this one is always so busy she forgets I exist!”

“She is,” Seda agrees, grinning like he already knows what the original conversation was about. “Always busy.” 

Jackeline keeps the same smile and is about to continue fanning the flames when Seda interrupts again. “Jackie, your father wanted me to speak with your sister alone for a moment. It has to do with tomorrow’s shipment.”

“Yes, of course. Don’t keep her for too long, okay? Tomorrow’s a late start but we all need our beauty sleep.” Jackeline leaves and fails to look over her shoulder to double check on you.

Seda steps closer, arms swinging casually like he’s pondering the possibilities of what he could do without Steve present. But instead of focusing solely on him, you listen to the soft sound of Bucky’s voice through the mic as he tells you that he’s listening in and he’s here.

“What did she say to you?”

“Is it really any of your business?”

He snaps immediately, gripping your cheeks in one hand so you can’t move your head. “When will you learn to keep your goddamn mouth shut around me?”

“You asked.” Smacking his hand away would have been frowned upon before, but not anymore. Free reign if need be. “Besides, when will you learn that that will never happen?”

“You can’t believe anything she tells you. Ernesto’s only two daughters are mistakes, both threats to his reign. Never submissive, always asking questions-”

You grunt almost comically, “Men and their irrational fears of women… What did I ever do to you?”

He pauses and you notice how his angry eyes always seem to water from his frustration. “You brought him back.”

“I also brought back trillions.”

“You know,” his face does something unpleasant. “Before Jackeline was dusted, she had been seeing that priest.”

“How could you possibly know-”

“He was so devastated by her loss. Found God, became a changed man.”

“Seda, what are you playing at?”

“She came back.” He lifts one finger. “He couldn’t resist.” He raises another. “Didn’t take long for Ernesto to find out.” The third one is the last, and he mimics a small explosion as he concludes. “But don’t worry, we took care of him.”

You never once believed the Devil was this angry, red demon with horns atop his head and a sharp tail, voice booming as he ruled the underworld with the weapons of pain and suffering. He didn’t possess or haunt random places. If anything, the Devil himself was simply a metaphor, a representation of the evil in a living world. It only made people comfortable to create an image, no matter how ridiculous.

Once you even thought the Devil was Hades, and he wasn’t all that bad when it truly came down to the root of all problems. He oversaw the underworld but he didn’t take life, he didn’t cause the pain, he simply watched and ruled. That maybe Hades was real considering Thor was, and he was just chilling in the underworld bored out of his mind.

But the evil the Devil represented was a constant in this world already, in your life from start to finish, and Seda’s eyes held something unspeakable. Dark brown eyes almost black, left cheek twitching with the urge to smile grotesquely, the tense nature of his broad shoulders. He was no massive man, a few inches taller than you, but he was a giant in a world in which Hades lacked and the Devil persisted.

“But Julian-”

Seda scoffs, “Julian was her rebound. Got mixed up in the business, with Ernesto  - but I don’t doubt he loves Jackeline.”

You’re this close to breaking the man’s fingers. He doesn’t stop counting his supposed triumphs. “When were the pictures taken?”

“Don’t do that,” he laughs as he finally steps away from you. “Ask your real question.”

Your smile was involuntary. So was Seda’s. It was the one thing you had in common: smiling at things that weren’t funny. “Did you threaten him? Torture him? Kill him yet?”

“... Jackeline will never know.”

Your mouth parts slowly like you’re still digesting his words. “You unimaginable bastard.”

If you had to bet, you would have placed all your money on Ernesto being the giant to fear. He had hurt you in countless ways, used you and discarded what he didn’t like, put you in the line of fire for his own gain. He had taken pleasure in knowing you hurt, in knowing what you had lost and suffered. He mocked your sacrifice time and time again. And there was a sentence you had never uttered out loud for fear of what you might do, or what anyone hearing you might do, that Ernesto had said one chilly November night only a year after the world returned. It was a thought so suppressed you almost always forgot it had been real. ‘A shame the Widow did what she did - what an unbelievable asset wasted over something pointless.’

No one outside your circle could possibly understand. They didn’t have to - but to dismiss the main reason he was retaking his tainted throne... insanity. 

But something in Seda’s voice moved even the most dormant areas in your soul. The giant was a man with nothing and everything to lose but with the power to choose which. Staring at him for too long prompted an uncomfortable sting across your waterline like his glare burned. Such a normal looking man with short dark hair and an aging face. He stared at you with a set look, one that told you he knew something you didn’t. Like he controlled giants even bigger than him. He wasn’t Hades, who restrained himself and hid in the shadows of a world he was forced to rule - he was the Devil’s metaphor, with red strains licking his tan skin and eyes sharp enough to puncture.

With a small tilt of his head and a strangled grin, he finally turns to leave. “Have a safe drive home.”

     After saying a quick goodbye to Jackeline and securing the estate, you hurried to get to your car and leave. Ernesto had just sent you a quick nod of the head and reminded Steve he needed to see him again before the wedding started. All your leftover energy literally went into pulling open the passenger door. 

Out of instinct now, you wait until the car is past the gates and a good mile from the hidden entrance before speaking freely.

“We get everything?”

The night is dark and you can barely see the outline of the trees. The sky is covered with gray clouds and there are no lampposts to provide light. It’s really just your headlights. “I think so. I think.”

Steve can sense the hesitancy in your answer. “What’s wrong?”

You shake with an exaggerated shiver, “Seda was being creepy… just more than usual.”

“What do you mean?” Steve was probably communicating and online with Sam during his conversation with Ernesto and completely missed the one you had with Seda.

“Fuckin’ didn’t think it could get weirder, but Jackeline mentioned how this was basically an arranged marriage and then Seda,” you stop suddenly. The uneasiness was creeping back. 

“An arranged marriage? Fuck, what else is this mission going to throw at us?”

‘Captain?’

Steve’s hands accidentally swerve the steering wheel as response to the small fright. “... Was that your phone or mine?”

You fumbled through your mini purse for your phone. “Me. Hey? Friday?”

‘The one and only. I hope that didn’t frighten you because I really need your attention right about now.’

Steve chuckles, eyes straight ahead as he drives. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

‘My readings are picking up something strange. The vehicle, even if I’m not able to virtually connect, seems to be stalling.’ Torres did curse you two before you left for renting a car made before 2013.

“What do you mean? It’s working just fine.” 

You set your phone down on the dash to start looking around the interior of the car.

‘The pedal, yes Captain. But I’m afraid my readings are focused on the brakes.’

You bite your tongue and scrunch up your nose. What else could possibly happen tonight? “That’s always fun to hear, great. Greaaaat.”

“Friday, what are you picking up?” Steve’s voice is more stern and even if he’s not doing it on purpose, he’s trying to ignore your coping mechanism of joking during dire situations.

‘It seems that when they took the vehicle for parking, they attached something to the brake lines. Sort of like a trigger sensor. Do not slow down.’

“We’re stuck? We can’t stop?”

‘Everytime the Captain de-accelerates, the sensor heats up. That’s what my readings are.’

“Fuck,” you unclipped your seatbelt and turned your body toward Steve. “Fuck!”

“Friday, what do we do?” The least Steve could do is be the level-headed one here.

‘Exactly what you’re thinking, Captain. The shield’s in the trunk.’

“We can’t exactly get to it!” You don’t mean to scream at Friday. You’re sure she’s used to adrenaline induced attacks guided toward her and never about her.

‘The burners were produced by Stark Industries for our very own spy unit. They are equipped with a taser, flashlight, and laser.’

Jumping so your feet were planted firmly on the passenger seat, you make sure everything is in place: the stolen files, your gun, your phone, and earpiece. “Keep your foot on that pedal, Rogers. I don’t feel like blowing up tonight.”

He releases a shaky breath, hands turning pale from the grip he has on the steering wheel. “You and me both.”

“Friday?” Your voice is only slightly timid, but you manage to move your body out from the front seats and to the back.

‘The laser, Agent Y/LN. Cut through the seats.’

Nodding along to her instructions, you search for the burner under your skirt and unstrap it from the holster. Pulling its ancient antenna outward, Friday verbally guides you through the very simple instruction. The laser blasts out unexpectedly at first making you squeal, which in turn causes Friday (a literal AI) to chuckle. You’re thankful the antenna was facing the back seats already.

“Doing good back there?”

You respond with a low grunt as you carefully carve out the largest rectangle you can create. “You better have shoved the thing close. Any stop signs up ahead?”

Steve’s getting worried now, but instead of putting you more on edge, he hides it pretty well. “Thank god this place is in the middle of nowhere.”

You don’t even give his response acknowledgement as you finally pull the leather, metal, and weird cushion filling away and spot the shield. “I got it, got it, got it.”

‘My sensors suggest you’ll have a good five seconds to escape the vehicle once the Captain releases the pedal.’

You make sure your hair is in the tightest ponytail known to man and that your skirt is bunched up in your free arm. You strap the shield onto the other. “Steve, you gonna be alright?”

His eyes are still focused on the road, but he braves a look in the mirror back at you. His voice is stern but not demanding. “I know you hate the damn shield but bend your legs, jump sideways, and tuck your head.”

“Yeah,” you nod along. Damn straight you’ll put your hate aside for one second if it’s here to save your life. “You better jump on time, you understand me?”

“Sam,” Steve keeps the speed steady and tries to ignore the way his heart is pounding from the sound of you kicking open the back door. “Sam, Widow. Widow.”

Before you jump, the asphalt a never ending, rapid glare of absolute darkness, you leave your phone on the seat in case Steve still needs her. “Friday, send Sam and Torres our location. They’re the only ones who can fly in undetected. Tell them what you told us.”

‘Will do, Agent Y/LN.’

“Be careful.”

You smirk at him, “Don’t be a hero and crash this one into the ice, yeah?”

You don’t wait for his reaction and instead take the plunge. The shield makes a hard impact with the asphalt down below, screeching for what seems like an eternity before slowing down. You did as instructed: knees tucked into your chest as far as you were able, head doing the same. By the time the ride finally ends and you’ve gone partially deaf, you can make out the sound of a loud explosion a close distance away. The heat from the sudden burst of wind nips at your face. You’ve also gone partially blind. 

Your poor boots are definitely ruined and there’s a faint tell of a bruised ankle in the works. The arm attached to the shield will also need to be popped back into place - it shouldn’t feel this loose. Luckily, your head and torso were completely unscathed. 

Lifting yourself up the best you could without straining anything too much, you noticed the car still in flames but driven off the road. 

“He jumped, he jumped, he jumped,” you repeat, limping as quickly as you could, shield still attached to your arm. The closer you get the clearer everything becomes, regardless of the smoke. “Steve.”

You squint through the orange light and the dark of night. The fire wasn’t all that loud in its crackles and it doesn’t take you long to realize while tapping your ears that you lost your earpiece. 

“Steve,” you try again, adrenaline still pumping but panic seeping in. As if on cue, you can make out his body laying far away from the car relatively unharmed. “Ah, shit.” You drop down on your knees and wince involuntarily. Slapping his cheeks doesn’t wake him up, neither does gently shaking him. You don’t want to do anything to hurt him more. 

The sound of gravel popping kicks you back into spy mode. Hide. This was a hit, of course it was, and they were coming to see their job done. 

“You so owe me,” you groan as you unstrap the shield to throw it into the woods, the faint tell of it hitting a tree enough to make you work faster. You hook your arms underneath Steve’s armpits and bend your knees, breathing in deeply and out a few times before pulling him with all your strength. There’s pain shooting up your arm but you try to ignore it. Small whimpers escape you as you pull harder and finally make it a good distance from the wreckage. You sit Steve, still unconscious, behind one of those massive pine trees and sit next to him after retrieving the shield. 

It’s only two black SUV’s that come to check their hard work. They’re bending down and using their own fire extinguishers, snapping their own photos, the works. It isn’t until Seda walks over to admire the wreckage that you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from screaming. 

You’re seated in front of Steve now with the shield in front of you when a sudden movement to your left startles you. Before you scream, however, a hand covers your mouth. 

“Shh, shh.” Sam. Your eyes fill with tears. 

“I’ve got him. Torres is coming for you, alright? I’m the only one who can carry him out.”

It doesn’t take much to convince you. You’re silently helping Sam strap Steve against his chest as Seda and his men are now investigating the woods. You can hear them close, cursing and yelling about finding you. 

“Go a little further. Down there,” Sam points in front of you. “Torres is parked and waiting. Go.”

“Don’t drop him.” Sam stifles his laugh. 

You follow his directions, limping as quickly as you can, and finally find Torres, your second knight in shining armor of the night. 

    After an all clear from the medical team, Steve is left alone in your hotel room to rest. He still hasn’t woken up but Helen isn’t worried since his scans show no major damage. Small talk with the rest of the team fills in the time but it’s like you’re not really there, merely a participant on a loop. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth and you’re covered in scratches and smoky ash and you can’t shake the feeling of wanting to kill something. 

Your father wanted you dead. And showing up to the wedding was just going to anger him more but it had to be done. But you were tired, so fucking tired, tired to the point where you couldn’t sleep or rest.

You let your hair down but stay in your tattered clothing, making yourself useful as best you can. You answer questions, you review footage, you draft up some reports. Bucky tries to sit you down at one point, but he backs off when you simply shake your head and give him that famous broken smile. 

You’re sitting at your desk trying to save some of your phone’s cloud through the connected email. Sam has already ordered you a new phone. On the computer to your left, you’re scanning and uploading the files you stole tonight. On the right, your little butterfly is transcribing conversations from yesterday. 

The transcription is finished before the uploads. It prints. 

SEDA: ‘Ernesto needs to know how many more women we can get from Jonathon. I thought you said your Italian contact was up to date?’

UNKNOWN: ‘He is. But the women are coming from here instead. Got a load of ten just now.’

SEDA: ‘The shipment goes out during the wedding. Not before, not after. We can’t fuck this up for Ernesto and we cannot have the stars and stripes finding out.’

UNKNOWN: ‘Ernesto plans to mention it to him tomorrow.’

SEDA: ‘Then make sure he keeps quiet about it.’

The bitter taste in your mouth returns and you have to run to the nearest bathroom.

     Steve wakes just an hour after, disoriented but able to discern who he is. “What happened?”

You’re standing at the foot of his bed, having just got there a few minutes before, practically on the verge of tears. “... Did you know?”

There it was. Any hope of truly coming to terms with this new world order or his role in it, any hope of feeling like he did before he succumbed to the American war propaganda and became a science experiment, crumbling before him. The heavy weight that were your shoulders, crumbling like shaky mountains. His own, tense and straining and urging him to get out of bed. 

He’s been in the trenches when the smell of gas and blood clogged his nostrils and made him dizzy. He’s experienced loss a thousand times over, just heinous instances of despair where he swore he was torn in two. He’s lost on his own accord and pretended like the world was still on its axis. 

And he knew his time was up. He just thought he’d have more than a day to enjoy it.  “I was going to tell you.”

It’s like the air is punched out of you. “You knew?”

“Please, listen, please,” he scrambles out of bed.

“What the fuck, Rogers?”

“Ramirez told us yesterday. I swear I only found out yesterday. Yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” You’re stepping away from him. He’s almost on his hands and knees and you’re stepping away from him. “Before?”

Steve makes a pained noise. “Yes, but please-”

“No! You kept this to yourself and you had the fucking audacity to share the same bed as me?”

“Please, let me explain-” He tries to reach out but you side-step him. He reacts like you’ve shot him.

“Don’t touch me, Steve!”

“Please, just let me explain. We all know - Bucky, Sam, Torres, we all know.”

Your face does something he’s never seen it do. “Fuck?”

He’s talking faster now, words just spilling on the floor and into the air and he doesn’t know what else to do. “We’re tracking it. We have a plan set. We were supposed to tell you tomorrow before the wedding.” He stops to take in a breath. “I was going to tell you.”

“You went behind my back.”

“If I would have told you, you would have done something horrible tonight! We need your father alive to find those people!”

Eyes wide in shock and anguish, you step further away from him. Each step was the equivalent of a dagger plunging deep into Steve’s heart, twisting and burning its way to the depths of his vulnerability. He wanted to succumb to the pain - after all, he deserved it.

“That would have been my choice to make!”

Now he pushed forward, shoulders hunched and palms turned upward as if he was pleading for a crumb of understanding. “I was gonna kill him.”

He drops to his knees, arms wrapping around your waist. You remained perfectly still, a tree stump with no cover. “I was gonna shoot him between the eyes when I first found out. But if I had done that, then we would never know the location of those people.”

His weight was pulling you down and you felt his wet cheek against your stomach. “I deserved to know.”

His grip tightened, “You did. But if you would have known-”

“I would have known. Period.”

He had to know how much he weighed. But Steve leaned his body onto yours harder, afraid you would vanish and god forbid turn to dust. It didn’t really register in his mind that, even though he was holding you in place, you weren’t exactly trying to escape his hold either. 

He had let you go once and he’ll be goddamned if he let you go again. 

“It ate me alive. I hated doing this-”

You pushed against his shoulders and sensed his reluctance to let go. Instead, you look down at him and tense your jaw. “Steve, you don’t hate me, do you?”

His face dropped and his grip loosened. You should just slap him across the face, Steve thinks, because how in the world were you thinking that at this moment? Never did he think you would find a way to twist this - to somehow blame yourself for his mistake. Took a long time to see it, but you were just as righteous as he was. It would get you both killed someday. 

“Why do you think that? What in the world would make you think that after all this time? After everything?”

He lets you push him away so he could stand but he makes sure to keep his hands on you. A tangible promise that you are real. 

“You agreed to help me catch a drug lord. You didn’t sign up for this extra mess.”

“We may not always know what we’re up against,” Steve began, sniffing and wiping at his wet face. God, he felt like such a mess. “But I could never fucking hate you. Don’t even think that.”

“You sure?” your voice cracks, hands slightly shaking from the need to touch him too. “Captain America didn’t sign up for this.”

He shakes his head almost violently, “No, no. Don’t go there. I am not him, I haven’t been him in a long time.”

“Steve-”

“No! I’ve hated the title for a while now. I’m done. I’ve hated my reflection for years and years.” The tiny whine in the middle of your throat gurgled and your hands moved instantly to cup his cheeks.  “I represent no one but myself. I’m tired of others thinking I’m the same man from ten years ago, or the same man from the forties, or the same man from last week just because they’re enamored by that star on my chest.”

He tilts his head to lean into your touch, “I am helping you because it’s the honorable thing to do. I signed up for this work, I intend to finish it. Not Captain America, but me - Steve, me.”

“You’re still making me feel like it’s something you have to do.”

“I admit that I was never overly fond of the idea of being wrapped up in this,” Steve admits, hands now cupping yours over his cheeks. “But toppling this empire will keep you safe.”

As heartwarming as that sounded, you broke the fantasy. “The minute we take the giants out, they’ll elect someone new.”

“But we take the giants out. The giants that hurt you.”

He’s right, like always. 

“Steve,” you say quietly, bringing his face closer to kiss away his tears. You’re struggling to keep the tippy-toes and your ankle is screaming for a break, but you persist. “You should have told me.”

“I know.”

“No more secrets.”

“None, I swear, I promise.”

Biting your lip to keep from crying, you make sure his eyes are locked on yours before you speak. “I’m not walking away this time. I’m not leaving you. Not again.”

Steve’s mouth releases a big burst of air like he was holding it in, and he wraps you in a hug that promises the same.

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess​ @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​

A/N: Wooooo that took forever lol xxMoni

[smcc212]

Gone, But Not Forgotten

Pairings- Finn Shelby x Shelby! Reader, Shelby family x Shelby reader

Word count- 2,234

Warnings- Description of mental illness, implied/referenced self-harm, it’s the 1920s, so people not understanding mental illness, let me know if I messed any. Not proofread.

A/N- So, rather than writing what I’ve been asked to write, I wrote this-big thanks to my mum for naming this for me. The mental illness depicted in this is based off of my own struggles with mental health and I tried to dial down so I don’t offend anyone. Anyway, with that all said, I really hope you enjoy!!

“The forgotten Shelby” that’s what I was; that’s all I was. Finn Shelby’s twin, was another thing people would call me, no one would just call me (Y/N) Shelby. At least everyone that said that remembered I was Shelby though. Tommy was having a big party for Lizzie’s birthday; everyone was invited. Everyone except me. I found out about the party while I was at Garrison, some strangers sitting next to me were talking about it. Finn didn’t even tell me. Finn and I used to be inseparable. Now I was all alone.

I pushed everyone away, I pushed my friends with away; I pushed my family away. I never wanted to loose them, though, not really. I just... I couldn’t help myself, for some reason, I felt as though I didn’t need them; I never could control my emotions. I was always getting in trouble in school for my emotional outbursts, but I couldn’t stop it from happening. They’d change all the time, my emotions. Sometimes I felt the same emotion for a day, sometimes my emotions would change every hour.

I hadn’t talked to my family in three months when I heard a knock at my door. I opened it to see my twin, Finn, standing there.

“Hey, Finn,” I grumbled. I was happy to see him, but I’d been living off the last pay-check Tommy had given me. I left school two years after Finn did so both of us couldn’t do anything but go into the family business. But it’d pushed them away; they wanted nothing to do with me.

“(Y/N),” He breathed out. “How are you? What’s been going on in your life? Are you-“ He cut himself as he looked behind me. The place was disgusting. I knew that. I just couldn’t motivate myself to clean it. “(Y/N/N)... what the fuck happened?” Despite his wording, his voice was soft and full of concern.

“I... I just couldn’t clean. I mean, physically I could, but I just couldn’t get myself out of bed to do so; I didn’t have any reason to,” I murmured embarrassed that he’d seen the pigsty I’d been living in. “I-I’ll clean soon though. I had to get up to answer the door, so I’ll clean a little today.” I gave him a sad smile but he didn’t return it.

“I never realised it was this bad...”

“What?”

“Your mind. Whatever the fuck’s going on in the head of yours; I didn’t know it was this bad.” I moved to try and block the sight of my home from him even though he’d already seen it.

“Why are you here, Finny?” Finny, the same thing I’d called since I first learnt to talk.

“To invite you to Lizzie’s birthday, but... (Y/N), you can’t live like this.” His eyes stared into mine; into my soul. I could not only hear the concern in his voice, but I could see it in his eyes as well. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to be a burden.

“I’m okay, Finn. I’m alive, aren’t I?” I giggled, but stopped when I realised he didn’t find it funny.

“Being alive doesn’t mean you’re fine! Pack some clothes, you’re coming to stay with me.”

“Oh no, Finny, I don’t want to bother you,” I mumbled, looking at the ground.

“You’re my twin. You’re not bothering me, just let me help you. Please?” He begged. He was begging to help me. I didn’t deserve his help, but I needed it.

“Okay, Finny. Wait here, I’ll pack a bag.” I walked into my bedroom, grabbing a duffel bag I’d stolen from John a while back, and stuffed the few clean clothes I had left inside it. Walking into the bathroom, I grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste, then I spotted my stash of razor blades I collected as a child. When I was younger, I would steal the blades my brother would sew into their caps; they always thought they’d misremembered grabbing them. At first, it was just to be a nuisance, but, eventually, it was to cut myself. My brain screamed at me to leave them behind. But I couldn’t. I grabbed them, stuffing into the front pocket of my duffel bag and walking to Finn’s flat with him.

I looked around the small room Finn said was now mine. It wasn’t bad; it was was nicer than the room he and I shared growing up.

“Thanks, Finny.” I smiled at him, carefully placing my bag down to make sure the blades couldn’t be heard.

“No problem, (Y/N/N).” He smiled back at me. “So... are your coming to Tommy’s?” He asked carefully.

“No.” I couldn’t face Tommy, the head of the family. Finn was my twin, he was fine, but the rest of them? They’d hate me, I was sure of it.

“Why not? They wouldn’t be mad.”

“Finn, they’ll hate me; I was horrible to them.” I started to hyperventilate and I didn’t know why, it just happened and I couldn’t stop it. “Th-they-they.”

“(Y/N), calm down. Breathe, (Y/N/N),” Finn cooed, trying his best to calm me down, but it wasn’t that easy.

“I can’t-I can’t,” I gasped out.

“Yes you can, you just have to do it slower.” He grabbed my hand, placing it over his chest so I could feel his slow heartbeat. “Breath with me, okay?” There was panic in his eyes, but he trained his voice well so that I couldn’t hear it. He took deep, exaggerated breaths. It took awhile, but, eventually, my breathing started to calm and the tears in my eyes cleared up.

Finn didn’t say anything as he walked over to my new bed, lowered himself and gently pulled me into him. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his warm embrace. I had been so long since I last saw another person, let alone got a hug off someone. I missed all of my family, but I missed my twin the most, I clung to him like he’d disappear if I let go.

“You okay?” Finn asks, finally letting the worry and concern flood his voice.

“Yeah... thank you, Finny,” I smile up at him. After a moment of silence, I spoke up again, “please don’t make me go, Finn.”

“You don’t have to go, (Y/N/N). I just thought you would want to, that’s all.” One of his hands started to smooth through my hair; Polly used to do that when we were younger.

“I’ll see them soon, it’s just... it’s a party, loads of people will be there and don’t think I can cope with that; you’re the first person I’ve seen in months, Finn, that was overwhelming enough.” I lower my gaze to the floor, embarrassment rushing through my body at how bad I got.

“Fuck, (Y/N)... I never realised it was that bad,” Finn mumbles and tightens his embrace. I hate that he’s pitying me, I know why he is but I hate it.

“It’s okay; I’m okay,” I replied. I’d gotten so you used to saying that I’m fine, it’s hard-wired into my brain.

“No, (Y/N), you’re not okay! If you were okay you wouldn’t have been living like that!” Finn exploded, he couldn’t hold it in anymore. I felt tears burning in my eyes.

“Fuck sake,” I cry, rolling my eyes. I’m sick of crying! Sometimes I can’t cry at all, and other times I can’t stop crying. It’s a fucking nightmare.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I should’ve shouted, I’m sorry,” Finn frantically apologies. I shake my head, curling in on myself.

“No, no, I need to my shit together! I’m so fucking useless!” I shouted, beginning to claw at my arms. “Fucking worthless piece of shit,” I mumble to myself. Suddenly, there are hands on my wrists, holding them together to stop be scratching.

“Stop it, (Y/N/N), you’re scaring me,” Finn spoke as tears begin to fill his eyes. I thrash against him trying to free myself, but it’s not working, he’s too strong.

“Let me go!” I scream. The front door opens, but I don’t realise, far too focused on freeing myself to care about who’s coming into Finn’s flat. “Get the fuck off of me!” I feel my throat ripping as I scream bloody-murder.

“Please! Stop it, (Y/N)!” Finn begs as two men enter to room. My twin’s pleas land on deaf ears, all I know in this moment is anger; all I know is that I have to get free. I fight and fight until something hits me on the back of the head and I black out.

My eyes flutter open, trying to adjust to the light. Looking around I see my family. Finn standing at the other end of the room, his cheeks stained with now dry tears; he looks scared as our eyes meet. Guilt overwhelms me, filling up my body until tears start cascading down my cheeks. Next to Finn stands John, one arm wrapped around Finn’s shoulders with a look of worried and perhaps guilt on his face. Polly sits next to me, her gaze upon the floor, shame and guilt paint her face too. Ada, I can’t see her face, she’s looking at some flowers placed on a dresser. The flowers look sad though, perhaps Ada does too. Arthur fights back tears as he looks at me, gripping onto Linda’s hand tightly, arguably too tight. And Tommy, he looks angry, or maybe neutral, I can never tell the two apart. Either way, he’s leans against the window looking at me. Lizzie sits on the bottom of the bed, looking up at me with sad eyes, she sends me a pitying smile as we lock eyes.

“Finny,” I croak, my throat still sore for my screaming.

“Don’t.” Tommy looks at me. Angry. He’s definitely angry. I don’t want him to be angry. “Don’t fucking speak to him; you terrified him,” His voice isn’t loud, but it’s not happy. Fuck, I fucked up again! I always fuck up! I try to hit myself, but I can’t move my arms, looking up I see that they’ve tied my arms to the bed.

“(Y/N),” Finn speaks shakily. “W-we had to, y-you we’re out of-of control.” My heart shatters at thought of Finn being scared of me.

“I didn’t mean to,” I murmur quietly, they won’t listen to me but it’s true, I don’t want to hurt them.

“I-I know.” Finn says softly.

“No, no that’s not enough.” Tommy’s stern voice cuts in again. “First, you cut us all off, and now you act like that? What the fuck is wrong with you? Eh?” I feel myself start to panic, a sudden weight on chest makes it hard to breath and it’s only getting heavier like someone in slowly but surely pushing it down until it crushes.

“I-I d-don’t know, I d-don’t-“ I cut myself off, unable to form the words.

“For fuck sake, (Y/N)! Stop that!” Tommy demands, but it only makes it worst. I just want to curl up in a ball, but I can’t because I can’t get my hands free.

“Tom, stop! Shouting makes it worst!” I think I hear Finn say, but he’s sounds so far away. I pull at the ropes tying me to the bed. Just have to get free. Just have to get free. Finn, seeing me panic and realising no one was gonna help, rushes over. “(Y/N/N), it’s Finny. Listen to me, yeah?” I can hardly hear him, but I try to focus on his voice. “I know it’s hard, but you need to try to calm down, okay? Stop pulling on the restraints and I’ll undo them, okay?” I nod slowly. “Good, that’s good.” He keeps talking as he unties the ropes. Repeating his action from earlier, he places my hand over his chest and takes long, deep breaths. I copy him as best I can until, finally, I calm down. I threw my arms around him, catching him off guard. It took a few seconds but he hugged me back.

“I’m so sorry, Finny!” I cry, but he just hushes me, rubbing my back soothingly.

“It’s okay, (Y/N). I know you didn’t mean to,” He coos softly, one hand reaching up to run his fingers through my hair. I hate myself for what I put him through, I hate myself for what I put my family through... but I can’t control it.

“I’m sorry, Finny. I don’t want you to be scared of me, I love you, you’re my brother. Please, please don’t be scared of me. I don’t mean it!” I beg and cry and plead. Finn doesn’t know how to deal with me, but he knows a lot more than anyone else does. As I cry and I beg and I plead for forgiveness, he grants it. When I promulgate my love for him and the rest of my family, he says he understands; he says he loves me too. He squeezes me with his comforting arms that provide security and safety. Crying into his arms I feel the judgement radiating from everyone else, but Finn seems to understand better than most, better than me sometimes.

The rest may not understand, they may not want to, but Finn. Finn understands, he wants to understand me more than he already does. He wants to be there for me, he wants to help me, he wants to safe me.

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