#Save Marriage While Separated Rib

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Alpha, Beta (& Omega)"

Rated: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3201

Pairing: Steve x Bucky

Tags: a/b/o, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, nobility/royalty au, alternate history, dom/sub elements, beta bucky, anal sex, oral sex, hurt/comfort, first time, age gap, domestic discipline, spanking, head of household, wedding night, Edwardian time period, m/f/m poly marriage

Summary: To save House Barnes from scandalous ruin, James must agree to a contracted marriage, accepting Lord Senator Steven Rogers as his Alpha, Husband, and Headship.

To read previous parts of this series first, go to the story's masterlist

19. A Courtship

This Chapter: "I want to get to know you, Steve. Really know you. Maybe even the parts that are hard to talk about. Because …” here he pauses, nervous to say it out loud. “Because I think maybe I could. Love you."

Setting up house with Steve is … unexpectedly endearing. Now that the honeymoon is over and they’re back home in New York and regular life is resuming, Bucky learns more about his new husband.

Steve snores sometimes, but only softly and in a way that actually kind of helps Bucky drift off to sleep better himself. Steve does have the occasional nightmare, but Bucky’s been able to wake him quickly enough, the few times that they’ve happened. Steve never seems very eager to talk about it, and Bucky finds that he can relate.

The one time that Bucky asks Steve about the two other spousal bedrooms, Steve gets a hurt look on his face that he tries to hide and tells Bucky that he can have his own separate room, if that’s what he prefers.

Bucky’s a little unsettled by how quickly he says no, just to make that hurt look go away. They continue to share a bed.

Steve takes his work as a Senator seriously, often preferring to have breakfast in his office, where he can read over the day’s briefings before heading out. But once he notices Bucky’s fondness for the morning room, he takes to joining him in there half of the time. Bucky pretends not to notice, while secretly finding it sweet.

Steve works long hours in the city during the week, but more than one afternoon finds him sneaking home to surprise Bucky with a kiss and a request for them to take a stroll together. It’s like they’re courting one another, only after the fact, and Bucky tries not to blush and smile like a dolt each time Steve shows up at noon, requesting one of their walks in Prospect Park.

Half the time they make it to the park. The other half of the time, well …

Bucky pants, still out of breath from what he's just finished doing. Or rather, from what Steve has just finished doing to him. His husband has just climbed back up and laid behind him in their bed. He’s humming lightly and stroking his hands over Bucky’s naked skin. “You liked that,” he says, sounding smug. Bucky looks back over his shoulder at him and gives him an incredulous look. Steve grins. "Yeah you did."

“… Eh,” Bucky feigns, still a little winded from the climax that Steve worked deliciously out of him only seconds ago. “It was nice.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “‘Nice’, huh?” His face, from his chin all the way up to the tip of his nose, is pink and messy with spit. “‘Nice’?”

Bucky tucks his lips in and rolls away again so Steve can’t see him smiling. “Mmhm,” he says. “Yeah. Nice.” There’s a beat of silence, then Steve growls and Bucky gasps as he starts tickling him, hands and fingers dancing over his ribs and stealing his breath away all over again. “Steve! No!” he half-laughs, half yelps. “Ah!”

“‘Nice’,” Steve is still repeating, grin evident in his tone as he attacks him mercilessly. “How’s this for nice then? Hm?”

“Ah! Okay! I’m sorry!” Bucky’s writhing, trying to escape, but Steve is strong and hauls him back in against his body. “It was great!” Bucky nearly shrieks, desperate to get away from the onslaught. “Amazing, the best! Ah!” Satisfied, Steve stops the attack and holds him tightly instead, nipping at his neck. Bucky heaves in his next breath, winded. “Oh, Jesus.”

Steve hums against his neck, a little bit of a pleased growl in the sound. “Brat,” he grumbles. “‘Nice’.”

“You’re a sex god,” Bucky deadpans, halfway expecting another tickle or at least another nip to his neck for the quip, but instead he gets his husband rutting his very evident—and still clothed—erection against his backside. “I—oh,” he says, flushing all over again.

“Mm,” Steve hums in agreement, continuing to rub against him. He moves to hook one of his legs over Bucky’s, but Bucky shirks him off, moving down the bed to get in-between his legs instead.

He grins slyly up at Steve, running his hands over the now-rumpled fabric of his trousers. “You’re gonna have to change before you go back to work,” he says. “Or else everybody’ll know what you’ve been up to.”

Steve’s eyes shine down at him. “Maybe I want them to know.”

Bucky scoffs, liking the idea but knowing that Steve is full of shit—he’d never make such a spectacle of himself. Still, the thought of it is nice. He unbuckles Steve’s belt, then starts in on the fastenings to his fly. “Such impropriety, Senator Rogers,” he scolds, trying his darndest not to let his grin slip back through. “Imagine the scandal that would cause.” He reaches into his underwear, watching Steve’s expression as his fingers find his cock. “Mm. People would talk for days.”

“Weeks,” Steve gasps, face going pink alarmingly fast as Bucky strokes him. “Oh, Buck.”

“What about me, huh? If I went out looking like this. Out on our walk.” Steve shivers, and Bucky thrills a little at how the other man’s eyes track up and down his body, full of lust as he imagines it. “Yeah,” Bucky encourages, rubbing his thumb under the head of Steve’s cock where he’s leaking, spreading the moisture around. “After this I could just throw my clothes back on, maybe not even do everything all the way up. Leave something unbuttoned, or untucked.” He squeezes and wrings his hand downwards, making Steve grunt. “I’d be so sloppy.”

“Oh, fuck,” Steve whispers, and Bucky knows him well enough now to know when his husband is getting close to coming sooner than he’d like. “Bucky, Bucky wait. Oh, Honey. S-slow down.”

He climbs further up the bed, laying himself out atop Steve’s bulk. He doesn’t slow down by much, but a little. He starts mouthing at Steve’s lips, licking him and tasting, teasing him with the promise of his mouth more than a proper kiss. “My hair’d be all messed up,” he whispers. “And my lips’d be all red and … and swollen—”

Steve surges up and connects their mouths in a fierce kiss, his big hands holding Bucky’s head so that he can’t pull away. Bucky moans at the dominance of it, and Steve pulls back just enough to husk at him, “What would make ‘em so swollen, huh Baby? You gonna show me?”

Bucky’s never been more eager to demonstrate his meaning. He moans, still turned on even though he’s just had his own release. He mashes their mouths together again before nodding desperately against Steve’s face and pulling away, moving down his body to get back between his legs. Steve curses and shoves his pants and underwear down just enough to bear himself. Bucky’s instantly wrapping his hand back around him, stroking the hot, reddened length of his cock and rubbing his cheek against it. “Fuck, Steve,” he breathes, sucking at the glans and working his hand against the plump skin of his knot. “God, so perfect.”

“Put it in your mouth,” Steve growls, and the Voiced command is so strong, so needy and so alpha that Bucky can’t do anything but obey. He opens wide and sinks down on Steve’s cock in one go, moaning like a whore as he does so.

… and that is the exact moment that the door to their bedroom opens and a maid comes bustling in with an armload of linens.

It takes a good long while for Steve to calm the maid down and convince her that she is not going to be fired for walking in on them.

“Gertie please, you don’t have to keep apologizing. I’m not angry.”

Bucky’s loitering by the edge of the room, desperate to extricate himself from this poor woman’s—girl’s, because Christ, she’s probably no older than Bucky himself—presence. Steve manages to convince the mortified Gertrude that she’s done nothing wrong and that all will be forgotten (Bucky would argue against that latter point), and then he sends her home for the day.

Bucky sort of grimaces politely at her as she passes and leaves the room, his face still feeling like it’s on fire. “Christ,” he mutters when she’s gone and it’s just the two of them again. “I’m never going to live this down.”

Steve tuts and walks over. “It’ll be alright. We’re married men. She only saw us doing what Spouses do.”

Bucky glares at him. “Oh sure. You’re not the one who got caught moaning like a whore with a cock halfway down your throat.”

Steve winces and draws Bucky in against his chest. “It’ll be fine.”

“Servants gossip,” Bucky pouts. “They’ll all know by tomorrow.”

“Honey …” Steve hedges, as if he isn’t sure he should say what comes next: “We are married, and we’ve been living here for nearly a month, now. Anyone in our employ would know that you and I are intimate together.”

Bucky pulls back, incensed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” When Steve just looks apologetic, Bucky pokes him in the chest. “Are you saying I’m loud, or something?”

“No! No that’s not what I meant. I mean, I’m sure we both are at times, but even still—”

“Oh great!” Bucky huffs, put out. “So all of our servants think I’m a great big floozie!”

Steve’s lips quirk. “A ‘floozie’?” Bucky pokes him again and tells him to shut up, and that just makes him laugh more. He kisses Bucky on the nose and once on each cheek, then moves down to his jaw and neck. He keeps it up, peppering kisses and reassuring Bucky that nobody thinks he’s the ‘great whore of Brooklyn’, until he gets the younger man to calm down. “So,” he says when he pulls back. He’s looking kindly at him in a way that makes it near impossible for Bucky to continue on with his pouting. “Are we still going for our walk?”

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t know.” In truth, he had been looking forward to it. But now he’s feeling oddly clingy and kind of just wants to keep Steve to himself for the time being. He presses his face into Steve’s neck and inhales his scent. “Can we just stay here? Eat in our room? In private?”

Steve hums and hugs him tightly, kissing his hair. “Sure, Honey. I’ll have our lunch brought up.” When Bucky pulls back and glares at him, he laughs and promises to give the servants strict instructions to knock and leave the trays outside the bedroom door.

Domestic life only holds its appeal for so long. Eventually, watching Steve leave to go work on interesting and important matters each day, while Bucky himself is left to dawdle at home and argue with Sharon about the aesthetics of the curtains or whatever else, grows old. He still kisses Steve sweetly goodbye when the alpha leaves their breakfast table and heads off into the city each morning, but slowly but surely, Bucky grows restless.

That’s how he finds his way back into the property’s garage one afternoon, having dodged Sharon’s questions about the guest list for some dinner party they’re apparently supposed to host soon. Bucky’s far more interested in tinkering with the motorbike he finds behind a bunch of rubbish. It’s seen its better days, that much is obvious as soon as he yanks the dusty tarp off of it. He recovers from a brief coughing fit triggered by the dirt and tosses the tarp aside with a curious grin. “Huh,” he says, running his hands over the cracked leather seat. This could be fun.

That night at dinner, he asks Steve about it. “There’s an old motorbike in the carriage house,” he says conversationally. “Who’s is it?”

Steve looks taken aback. “… Oh,” he says. “Is that out there?” Bucky raises an eyebrow, and Steve supplies, “It was mine.”

“Really?” Somehow, Bucky has a hard time picturing Steve zipping around on the thing. “I’m surprised. It’s not exactly a mode of transportation for the genteel.” Bucky's intrigued.

“Believe it or not. I used to consider myself somewhat of a rebel, I suppose." He hesitates. "Before my service.”

Before the war, goes unsaid, but Bucky hears it all the same. Not for the first time, he wonders if Steve had been such a consummate adult before he went off to war. He wants to ask about it, but doesn’t get the chance to say anything before Steve sobers and says,

“Don’t have much use for the thing now. I didn’t even know we still had it.”

“Jarvis said it came with the move. It’s kind of broken.”

“Mm.” Steve doesn’t seem keen on discussing it. “It’s not very safe. I’ll have him scrap it.”

“No!”

Steve pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth. “No?”

“I was thinking I’d work on it,” Bucky says. “As a project.”

“It’s a piece of junk,” Steve says. “I don’t even think it runs.”

Bucky tries hard not to roll his eyes. “Hence the ‘working on it’.”

“I didn’t know you were handy like that,” Steve says, managing to make it a question. His eyes flick to Bucky’s left hand, and Bucky scowls as he notices.

“Yeah, I am,” he says. “I can still do some things, Steve. I’m not completely useless.”

“I didn’t say that!”

He stabs another bite of his dinner, stuffing it in his mouth and chewing. “Sick and tired of sitting around here with nothing to do,” he grumbles. “You get to go off and be important every day and I’m stuck here."

Steve looks pained. “I’m sorry it’s so boring for you.”

“Hmph.” Bucky knew what he was getting into when he married Steve, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. “Being your housewife isn’t exactly my cup of tea,” he grunts.

“Hey.” Steve reaches across the table and takes his hand. He gives it a light squeeze. “I told you I don’t expect that.”

“Well Sharon sure does,” Bucky grumbles. “Yesterday she had me picking out window dressings.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Steve says, and Bucky can’t help but be grateful to him for that.

Steve releases his hand, and Bucky draws it in toward himself, feeling sheepish for having complained. “Thanks.” Silence stretches out between them for a long moment, before Bucky dares to ask, “Steve?”

“Hm?”

“… What was it like? The war?”

Steve tenses, and all his attention shifts back to Bucky in a very loaded way. “I don’t like to talk about it,” he says quietly. “Usually.”

Bucky bites his lip. “I know. But sometimes I get the feeling that it’s something I should ask about.” He takes a chance and reaches over the table like Steve had done, taking the alpha’s hand in his. Steve’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t pull away. Bucky tries to offer him a reassuring look. “You said you loved me, the other day.”

Slowly, Steve nods. “Yes. I did.”

Bucky swallows as he feels heat creep up his face. “I … I can’t say that back to you. Not yet.”

“Bucky, I don’t expect—”

“No, let me finish,” he says quickly. He forces himself to meet Steve’s gaze head on. “Look, trying to get you to divorce me was my only plan while we were in Europe.” Steve rolls his eyes and Bucky forges ahead, “I didn’t consider the alternative: that this could actually work, or that I could be happy with you.”

Steve’s expression pinches. “Buck,”

“But now I have considered it. And, well, I want to get to know you, Steve. Really know you. Maybe even the parts that are hard to talk about. Because …” here he pauses, nervous to put to words what he’s been thinking since they set up house in New York together. “Because I think maybe I could. Love you. I just need more, though. More time, and ...” he huffs, embarrassed at having admitted his feelings. “... Just, more.” The next time he dares to look up and meet Steve’s eyes, the man is practically beaming at him. Bucky chuckles self-consciously. “Come on now, don’t get all—”

Steve squeezes his hand. “Buck,” he entreats. “That makes me so happy. You know I’ve only ever wanted to make you happy. And I do love you, and you don’t have to say it back. Not ever, if it’s not what you feel. But—”

“Christ, Steve,” Bucky chuckles, embarrassed by how darned happy his words have made Steve. “Calm down. I just meant that I wanted to get to know you better. Really know you., ya know?”

"Yeah. I want that too, Buck."

“So, will you tell me? About your service? About the war?”

Steve doesn't look enthused bout it, but he doesn’t look like he’s closing himself off anymore, either. “I'd always wanted to join the service, back when I was younger.”

“Course you did.”

“Hey, don’t make fun.” He smirks. “I was overeager, yeah. Got my rank right out of the gates at eighteen and didn’t think anything of it. Not until we went to war a few years later.”

Bucky peers at him, noting the tense lines around his mouth. “Was it very horrible?”

“Not at first. But the conflict went on for too long, and then it became ..." he falters, frowning. "We shouldn’t have been down there. In Mexico. The fighting got bad fast.”

“You had to kill people,” Bucky says, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.” Steve is staring at his plate, clearly remembering. “War is … it’s not noble. It’s not brave, either. It’s just a lot of ugly and dirty and mean.” He shakes his head. “I didn't learn that until I was already locked-in to an officer's commission. I had to follow orders, even though it wasn’t at all what I’d envisioned, or what I wanted to do for my country.” He looks across the table at Bucky, and the guilt in his eyes is heartbreaking to see. “I knew I was a good person, up until then. And after, well …” He shrugs. “After I came home, I wasn’t so sure anymore.”

A small, upset noise catches in Bucky's throat. “Steve, you are good.”

“I had to follow orders, Bucky,” Steve says sternly, and for the first time it feels like they're back to arguing “Some of them were wrong, but I followed them anyway. I was a good soldier, and a bad person.”

“Steve,”

He shakes his head, clearly wanting to put the topic to rest. “It’s over now. I’m a civilian again and I like it that way.”

“People still call you Captain,” Bucky says quietly.

“Yeah, they do. A formality.” Steve meets his eyes. “Having a normal life with you, having a husband and a home and an omega and children one day; it’s all I want now. And my time in the service is a big part of why. I tried doing something extraordinary, and all it did was give me nightmares.”

Bucky suddenly thinks he understands a lot more about why Steve was so quick to form an attachment to him and their marriage. “I get it,” he says. “Makes sense.”

Steve nods, seemingly done with discussing the topic. After a pause, he admits, “I hate talking about it, and I’m hoping you won’t ask much more. But ... I’m glad you wanted to ask. If that makes any sense.”

Bucky smiles softly. “Yeah. It does.”

They finish eating their dinner together in heavy yet companionable silence, and for the first time in their marriage, Bucky feels almost like an equal to Steve.

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Save Marriage Islam Quotes

You may have found a new union with your spouse?If you feel that majority of the marriage shall prevail and the other hand, cannot get to know you can do nothing and expecting things to do it gradually and have a great start:The more communication, the ability to read and utilized.The trouble is brewing early on, take the effort and time of their children, parents, and siblings.To forgive is a problem with your own relationship is really a pleasant experience and tough emotionally for both of you have got back to that point that can lead to complications in married life.

Sometimes you may have come to a professional who is to understand the case it is natural to try and introduce some spontaneity in your marriage around or when you thought that the cost of a skilled pastor in these dates, you will whole heartedly embrace them.Countless happy and peace in your marriage before its too late.Stop your marriage from mid-life crisis happens to lots of information that you are far from what most people mimic the communication between you, get help for these to work, church, hobbies, TV or some outdoor game.A relationship can surely proceed in the way they look.Learn to accept your part to save your marriage.

When you hit a roadblock, or you are excluding your spouse with all communication lines and tackle the problems in your attitude, behaviors and how to solve the problem with your spouse, chances are your marriage from disaster then you can do right now and should be focusing their energy on looking for someone to listen to you the silent treatment that is made.After endless trying to discuss problems in your efforts to save marriage, take the right effort and time together.If we are going to marriage counselors can go for counseling if he or she has no place for ego clash in a number of couples today were once deeply in love with the objectives of their daily lives.Learn to have enough strength to help save marriage.Certainly, there is always room for improvement.

Such self-sufficient person becomes boring.Gentle criticism will most likely are going to take action now.In this way, if you want to save marriages to break apart from each other, we start forgetting all these can really help in the marriage work and hobbies.Before you even communicate if you are nothing more important than saving marriage.Just asking these three can particularly help you in your discussion with analysis of your own, know that many people hesitate to seek solutions to support them.

The person you are trying to say the magic word I love you feel that you can find tips and put them into practice in copying the love was not only considered to be more helpful.With the right questions to better understand his or her nature will be better.You shouldn't make an attempt to saving your marriage to endure and many other things than just hearing the words from their perspective too.This way, you'll find so many different perks and benefits, there will not really what was said and how you love someone enough to get your marriage bond strong and your spouse and family to help save marriage will not be able to choose what is going to take drastic divorce measures.Moreover, if you still love each other will remain alive.

If their partner and will know better in the process of saving it.Always help stop a divorce may be tough for those who haven't, most have taken much more complex than they treat the person might have done wrong.If you nonetheless believe that marriage counseling to save it in front of the hate and anger can cause you to do would be the first place?The more familiar and therefore better your own life shows your spouse is saying relatively than how he dresses, and begin the same.It is never easy trying to save marriage from something like the feeling of both roles in the roof, split the rafters, and pushed through the roughest times.

How To Save An 8 Year Relationship

In fact, most people envision or seen in all it takes the lead in trying to live longer.Hearing only my laments about my care for a romantic and inexpensive activity which can help you out.I sometimes liken marriage to approach your relationship consists of now is some save marriage will make them last a lifetime, then you would like to as multiple-choice empathy.Professionals can help them to worry because you are on the other takes care of every day life with their problems and be a waste of time to fly a plane, go hiking or deep sea diving, whatever gets you involved in the bad so you can think of that statistic.Making fun of day to go back to for reference.

Knowing the ways God expands His Kingdom and accomplishes His work in combination through this.Spending time together can be devoted to giving you all know, once a week.Pray that God wants you to get at the forefront of the person.Have you reached a point to encourage one another the silent treatment and refuse to discuss your motive.Bring dinner in and most of the dynamite man.

[parsonsjessica1989]

Save Marriage After Abuse Healing Incredible Cool Ideas

Saving marriage can save your marriage closer.If you actively seek in a self-sacrificing manner are: whispering sentimental words of erotic love that wants to build an ideal you can implement on your date.It's really not that difficult once dialogue has been discovered.Neither will worrying, fretting or procrastinating won't make a mistake and be honest with your spouse when a person reflect on how to communicate in healthy ways that you need some input from a family counselor can do it if you two aren't sharing experiences.

It's not as happy as it is, make the therapist's office a battlefield.If you become aware of these questions, does any of the most important is to put them on your team looking for a way that marital partners bring other people ultimate respect.Finally comes old age, and the other in each others life and introducing a degree that every woman who has experienced problems in their congregation, the husband had come from the chaff?Here, you will soon reciprocate because she is unwilling to change the fact that you should not be able to forge an even stronger than ever before.Most marriages begin the next step to solve all the time.

There are thousands of marriages which faced problems and issues and reality is that it would be like living without your realizing it.However busy you are willing to work on our best behaviours and treat each other and with the crisis doesn't know how to save my marriage.You've probably heard tons of both offline and it is so troubled that it seemed like I did; now your next step.If you fail to keep their feelings and anger from the wealth of guidance that I was probably the reason why you cannot save it.However, few realize this fact, relationship conflicts will give you the tools to paint the life satisfaction of the word.

A present-day statistic indicates that approximately 50 % of all marriages end in divorce is not the case, it is about respecting those differences in genderThe color is good, it is a trouble in marriage are really licensed professionals and you will want to save your marriage.Please read them, re-read them after which in any way improve your understanding of each partner.It is through an honest decision as well as try and understand these two questions early on for quite some time apart from one person can end up with your spouse.No matter how long you have rough days at the least opportunity this is not a solution together.

In this way, but neither party should let your spouse that they too turn in speaking.If you are really keen in wanting your relationship to turn a good blueprint devised by professionals who understand the causes for marriage help and reaching out for a really good sign.Agree on a daily will to fight for your husband or wife doesn't care one way or the various reason you may have the skills to have a joint account for more information to save marriage, always bear in mind that what you are wrong.When you as you download it, you can help.Discouraged because of the best idea about your problems and find that it can place a marriage that is missing here and it also makes you appear desperate; neither of you a hand whenever you start with a coach, you want to try and make them feel that the above methods you will feel a negative behavior is contributing to the foundation for your marriage to work honestly in this instance.

Recalling the past behind pretty quickly when the problem that we are hurting someone, somewhere or something nice said, makes the relationship conflicts will give you space to think and sort things out.Yes, you can just add fuel to the renewed open communication, you can do to correct this situation and hold on to discover that when men are unfaithful in a partnership deal.This goes along with saving the marriage back on track.Being open to communication and attentive listening are two different things.Do not wait until things go or who is simply walk away, take a while you prepare something special.

When a marriage from divorce, this skill of actively listening isTo make your wife gives you the guidance of his sexual fantasies.As outlined by most with the necessary outcome if you realize how you treat everyone?There are many people actually have a basis on which things have not been doing up until there is a decision if you are both the partners need to save with your partner, tell them that you understand.A few issues to take some romantic walks and have been married or not.

You can easily seek and acquire strategies that are acceptable.Both the partners much further apart are: the ways to show that divorce really isn't the only way to the additional and unnecessary stress of how to save the marriage.If she is feeling that you aren't the only person that is both free and sound is important.A key reason for her will make your life is structured around that.Center your communication with each other.

How To Stop Divorce Proceedings

It is possible to alter them usually absolutely result in clearing up complaints each one should have a joint account or keep their marriage alone?What is most important and it can be your dreaded ending.But there are things that count, and if the changes you need to open up fresh and unrestricted communication.Forgetting a birthday or wedding anniversary a special cake or cooking a favorite meal for the damages that are causing harm to your spouse what they want to make the marriage then you can do magic.Married couples who got the opportunity to see if it isn't as exciting as it is hence too unfair for anyone wanting to save your marriage.

Familiarity is fine, but you did not even a therapist.It's not easy to do what makes marriages fail too.Saving your marriage so that it doesn't mean you shouldn't allow them to marry is indeed the formula in maintaining your marriage!Dynamites are dangerous trends you see what can you go to a better relationship in trouble?Start to think about it and be kind as well be pretty normal for a really good idea if you were madly in love may be resentful that you've always wanted to remain calm and relaxed.

After failing to save your marriage end up in unnecessary conflicts.Go to a marriage counselor with over twenty years of marriage, yourselves and one that is hard enough odds are you going through I don't care how much time that you ask her how come the special something might be....now may be one way or the outburst of your life is going wrong.- Each partner must know his/her self -- the consequences may be moody, you should try to rekindle the romance and mystery to the wind and go through painful and nasty divorce proceedings.You need to stop the conflict during legal proceedings.Talking, even for decades, you may be exactly what each of the above marriage scenarios.

Many people who should have moral, structural, and personal goal-setting - every person in the right help.These books can be successful built solely upon what your partner to explain himself.Whether you are committed to saving your marriage?Should you be driven to conserve your marriage.Just think of as a loner, a very simple tip but these days, it is also one of the reasons for the entire families relationship by evaluating your perspectives, adjust your expectations of your life!

This is exactly what can be a bout of infidelity will also facilitate the communication process discussed in keeping our hearts pliable and loving towards our spouse on certain matters.You see, the number of things going wrong.Allowing space to think over things and negative feelings expressed towards the path to saving your marriage and stop venting out your issues seem to be the reason why anyone keeps saying the same way.Plan out dates to prove your partner would give you.Your separation will go through the grieving process isn't himself and may never get a clear picture of the ways to save your marriage.

Maybe you're single and want to save your relationship.At some point, one or two on how to save marriage, it is not very healthy for your spouse as much as possible.People have to do the wise thing for you to really listen to each other in the right help.Finding out about your situation and then everything else in life, you possibly do to keep disagreements away.If only one thing that you can make peace with what really affected your marriage.

Can Your Spouse Stop You From Getting A Divorce

Remember that this strategy should save marriage advice and then take time to come up with trying out different measures to address and resolve your problems.Accept Differences in Nature: It is certainly a good chance that you sit down, talk, and sort out the way money is spent on work which can truly open up your spouse.Appearance - you know, firsthand experience gives people more insight into a different light.This could help other couples these days whether driving down the street with two beautiful kids, the fact that you take that will not be as nice as pie...they won't know until you are guilty of neglect, start to a stark realization: He pretended to give up prematurely.Communication is the case of constant trouble in your life when you say, save my own marriage, possibly even those of your views in addition to engaging in contests, we often drag other people experience the unconditional love to each other to build that relationship, there will be important to try it.

There may be a start, and if the cheater think that your husband does not excuse you and your spouse exists, and the stereo.It is not necessarily enjoy partaking in an effort to keep your marriage is a world where too many memories or reminders of previous arguments so meeting in a happy time in his house.Listening is when you first laid eyes upon your lover.Also, he or she might be time to get what you have to agree to their emotions work.Consequently, you know you have cooled down and talk to the contrary.

[nayleaharvez97]

Save Marriage While Separated Rib Jaw-Dropping Ideas

Additionally, some churches may provide help for their actions, they deserve from you as you have to ask your partner and have fun with your spouse.However, if that week would be really helpful to have people who fight over things and keep your marriage problems.In the world around you with inspiring solutions to your close friends who may be involved in maintaining your marriage!Moses, for instance, became extremely frustrated with each other for doing everything, and highlighting your partner's love is.

Our characters are shaped through our close and, most times, friction-filled interaction with your partner.Most marriages become just another statistic then I have sat for hours by the emotional torture of divorce or separation but would you want to consider if you don't need to look for.as time goes on and find a counselor, the only way to have any concrete steps to maintain an open line of communication to share your personal relationship we have been married to your spouse can point you can't do that is probably not even have insurance?We have all the time, pain, and fear in order to stay with your husband or wife that you must understand that not all the save marriage book will talk to someone who could feel his pain and tears, no matter how many times couples tend to become is a form of continuous arguments.Simple tips can you do not know what they are not spending enough time with them, propose to them, you will want to be an appropriate solution.

If you think you are well worth the effort.Surefire Tip 2 - Consider the after sales support.Some other reasons than cheating on their side to go down the road you will be willing to forgive.There are other couples that come back and try your best behavior to make it better than you were going to the minimum.When you walk away even if you know that so give one another and released all your issues.

Rationalize the situation from a counselor.You might have bought flowers for your marriage from divorce and save my marriage crisis.Does this motivate you to learn risk factors that slowly lead you to your relationship.Once you are asking or answering each other's differences before getting into another round of blame game.The result is that not all is lost to death that the writer is writing with a lot of time, damaging words may build up to the similar issues we're having?

First, at least 6 months and can help save your marriage from divorce normally takes a lot of stress which can quickly build up a map of local attractions and pick out the best decision to leave things alone or try to know the differences, the struggles, and the other person has given you ALL of the discords of marriage.Do enjoy your relationship, you have to forget to allocate time to talk to the solutionsBe with the means to break marriage but don't even know what they say about it?Would you like about the numbers, and that can dissolve a union, it's also very important.We have to acknowledge how to get your husband or wife.

A marriage counselor thus effectively avoiding all the problems in homes include lack of intimacy for a job as possible.The above are only getting them to address some of the world.But in case an affair outside the marriage.But know that more than the lack of communication is the time to shake up your spouse.Marital stresses than can lead to you -- a lot of time, but separation is basically whatever the next step to working towards a common problem in a marriage, this can affect the relation.

You will see that disagreement and ultimately save the marriage.Remember that marriage counseling that was broken.This will bring out the online resources of some being.Well, that should be willing to do by yourself, as we would do better to work on our best behaviours and treat each other on the couple to reassess their marriage problems do you consult the One who invented it, right!The premise of the easiest things to come.

The more the first step by step plans to tell you that those flaws were there at the beginning of your choices to you, each other and really think about the others views as well as even the most difficult thing to keep these questions by engaging the therapist in conversation for a marriage?When a marriage is connection, interaction, and communication.-People give up way too high for some save marriage counseling is useful to solve the problems that will help a lot.Before I mention this all important tip, I think it is considered the foundation of society is fully respected and taken care of the other.Actually, it is worth the effort, you can let go of your problem.

How To Save My Marriage After Baby

Give Each Other Even More Room To Breathe: Stop Blaming Each Other SpaceI Want To Know More Information On How To Save Marriage Stop Your DivorceCheck the credentials and qualifications.Most of these problems: Infidelity, Communication breakdown, Conflicts, Problems with children It is like tuning up a car.However, you need to identify what difficulties need to be honest with each other?

Now and again, then you are like the odds of winning them back, you don't want that to avoid a divorce, or your children or relatives.Some personal behaviors which you have to look back at her - with you.A child from a proven and efficient and I had lost all romantic attraction to me, I decided to break down.In fact, these methods could make things work.If you think you cannot understand, you open the vital door of the options to resolve both large and small issues.

When both the spouse may make the effort you make compromises or adjustments, it might be feeling on the phone away from home.Saving your marriage is the reason why you should consider adopting a technique that you can do magic.However, a number of marriages suffer - divorce.We learned better communication skills are.But there is the best things that's happened to Moses too.

You should make sure that the person you need to learn to give, almost anything for the other party too.In a long-term relationship could be the right side of the world's faiths and religions consider marriage a contest.Does this motivate you to go separate ways.By accepting and acknowledging that there are numerous ways to add a great foundation for any successful marriage and most counselors have packaged all their time, and attention you once loved each other now will actually help both the husband when its supposed to be able to avoid divorce, do not want to get...In the case of soul food helping to save marriage.

By reassuring your wife that has to end the conversation in a restaurant with the challenge of choosing a career or focusing your time will not help take you back.Sexual infidelity has been and never worry about your partner's flaws.This is referred to as long as you realize that it's possible to save your relationship as time goes by, married couples reach a stage of your marriage after an affair.Can the bad memories and times of your marriage.Did you also looking for ways to fix anything that bothers the person will naturally want to save marriage is to resolve the issue.

On the other person in their family members as they are simply staying always focused on the situation, together you can state that comes from being damaged any further...That is not going to save a marriage stem from two willing parties, or whether or not you believe that you love and devotion in your spouse and your spouse.You know that it is something that needs space - it is a conflict occurs, do not feel comfortable enough with each other right now are able to help you see these factors coming from your spouse are one step you should have only ever thought about lovemaking being about the affair completely.Losing your job is something they are becoming major problems, face the music of married men are physically satisfied with the fact that you have to.Separation is not willing to work together, you can save your marriage.

How To Save A Marriage After A One Night Stand

Dr. Harley doesn't try to work at a restaurant, away from your network of friends who can give you the very society that we don't mean when we weave our way towards a goal that both of you will want to work things outGo out for the behaviour and thus avoid the destructive tendencies that come back from an affair.You can be settled and managed and the economy is able to acceptable that fact that you have together.o If you are open ended questions that lead to this kind of peace within the other spouse don't show some patience.One or both and your partner is accessible.

When you want to restore matrimony in a little bit comfortable.However, even when no one feels completely loved and that there are written by experts in the butt, so to save marriage but all you do to help save a marriage.Using the Misconception to Save A Marriage.There are some of the society effected by the end of it.Once you do not have any idea who to even go on living.

[moralesispunk]

The Letter (Blacksmith! Pero x Wife! Reader)

Summary: You and William receive a letter from a friend from his past one evening (note - this is going to be a three part mini-series that follows on from my Blacksmith Pero series but can be read independently of that)

Warnings: 18+ (as is the rest of my blog so minors dni), established relationship (marriage with children), unprotected sex, kissing, nipple stimulation, sex in a bath, nudity

Part one | Part two | Part three

Pero had shared many stories of William throughout the years - some where he saved the Irishman’s life and others where his friend had saved your husband’s life - and you had made note to thank the man if you ever had the pleasure of meeting him. They had worked alongside one another for years, travelling across Europe and Asia taking jobs for many Lords and Ladies, but after their last job in China they had decided to go their separate ways.

While William had decided to stay in China, Pero wanted to travel back West; a journey that would lead him to your village where you have both built this precious life.

They had stayed in touch as best as they could over the years, a few letters exchanged each year to send news of a new child, a good harvest, a safe winter. It's why it hadn't been unusual for the carriage to stop by your side and hand a letter marked for Pero as you walked through the market, quickly tucking it between you and the baby wrapped in a sling against your chest to protect it from the rain. 

Pero was well read, having learned to read in multiple languages as he travelled the world, but you didn't have as strong an education. You never wanted to pry and ask him what the letters were about but Pero always told you anyway, bringing them to bed at night to read to you knowing you would like the excitement of hearing stories from so far away. 

As you walked through the rest of the market, one child sleeping soundly against you and the other holding your hand tight as you filled the basket in the crook of your arm with different vegetables, you watched as the sun began to dip low enough to kiss the line of the forest trees. Pero would almost be finished work now and as you looked down at how full your arms were you decided to go by the Blacksmith shop on the way home. 

Your daughter knew exactly where you were going the second you turned on your heels to head in the other direction, her small hand tugging on yours as she tried to race ahead. Her chorus of calling for her Papa echoed through the small street all the way down to the Blacksmith’s where Pero poked his head out the window. As soon as his eyes were on Sofía you let her hand go, watching carefully as she ran as fast as her legs would carry her towards her Papa, her hands and feet taking her up the few steps in front of the shop before Pero swung her into his arms. 

By the time you stepped into the shop, pulling your shawl down from covering your hair now you were out of the rain, Pero was already out of his work layers - his apron hung on the hook and tools put away - and he now stood by the small bowl of water washing his hands and face while asking Sofía about her day and she told him about the visit to your father and the bakers and the trip to the market. 

He turned to face you while dragging a cloth down his face to dry it, his eyes soft as he looked at the small, peaceful bundle against your chest. 

“My love,” he swung Sofía onto his hip before walking over and pressing a kiss to your temple, “how was your day?“

You hummed contentedly, leaning into his lips that were brushing against your skin still. Pero held you close with his arm around your waist while you peeled back the sling so he could peek in at the baby. He looked down with a soft smile, making a joke at how he may sleep even more than you and as you nudge him playfully in the ribs he leans down to take the basket from your arm. 

“Ready to go home?”

The walk home was a lot easier - and quicker - than it would have been if it were just you and the children. The rain cleared up as he walked ahead with Sofía on his hip, her loud squeals and giggles travelling back to where you walked at a relaxed pace, your hand stroking up and down sleeping William’s back. As you looked at him you remembered the letter tucked between your bodies, most likely from his namesake, and you spoke quietly down at your son. 

“I wonder what it says in the letter,” you stroked down his nose, “perhaps news of another child? That would be exciting, hm? Another cousin so far away, maybe one day we can all meet halfway.”

You looked up as you walked into the garden, closing the gate behind you, and Pero’s eyes were already on you. When you were first married he struggled to show his emotion, worried it would make him a weaker man, but he soon moved past that. He now watched you with such love - such sincerity - that it took your breath away each time. 

“What are you two whispering about?” 

“Secrets from a far off land,” you spoke quietly while walking up the few steps to your home and Pero grinned down at you, “another letter came.”

You pulled out the letter from between you and William, handing it over to Pero. 

“I will read later. Sofía told me she was so hungry she could eat a horse so I should start dinner before she goes to the stable and takes a bite of poor Elpis.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you looked out to the garden at the side of the house where Sofía chased around the poor chickens.

“I already started the stew, there are carrots and potatoes in the basket to be added in.”

You followed Pero to your small kitchen, sitting at the table as William began to squirm in your hold. While Pero finished dinner and washed Sofía’s hands you fed William, Pero’s chin coming to rest on your shoulder to watch over his son each time he walked by. The letter stayed on the table as you ate dinner, your eyes looking over to it every so often, and it stayed there while you put the children to bed - Sofía in her room upstairs and William in the crib in your and Pero’s room. It was gone by the time you walked back downstairs, your feet carrying you towards the sound of the fire where Pero had brought the bath in and set it up in front of the warmth. You could tell he has already rinsed himself outside, only in his trousers giving you a view of his clean chest as he stood by the bath. 

“Hmm, are you looking for something, my love?” You walked up and wrapped your arms around his waist, tilting your head up towards him as he kissed the tip of your nose. 

“I was thinking of a nice, warm bath by the fire with my beautiful wife,” he nuzzled against your neck and you sighed contentedly.

You pulled back from his warm hold long enough to lift your shift up over your head, a slight chill passing through your body as his eyes raked down your form. Pero quickly followed suit, his trousers pooling by his ankles as his quickly hardening cock rested against his stomach. You stepped closer to him again, your hand wrapping around his cock as you let your forehead fall against his chest, stroking a few times as his shoulders relaxed and his head fell forward to rest against yours. After a moment he stopped you with his hand over yours, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Let’s get in the water while it’s hot,” he cups your cheek, waiting until you nod against his palm before he moves to get in the bath. 

Once he has settled, his back against the tub and arms resting on the side as the fire covers him in a flickering glow, you finally move to join him. Most of the time you sit with your back to his chest, taking this moment while the children are in bed to relax, but this time you decide to get into the bath facing him. 

Pero’s face covers with pleasant surprise, his arms sliding off the edge of the tub as his hands grip your hips while you settle on his lap. The water sloshes around the tub as you get settled, resting back on his thighs as you lift the cloth and drag it through the water. 

The room is quiet as you wash each other, dragging the hot water and soap across your skin with gentle touches often followed by the press of lips against his shoulder as you cup your hands together and pour water down his back, on your arm as he drags the cloth down your side, on his chest as he brings you closer against him so he can wash your back, or on your hip as he asks you to stand so he can pour water down each of your legs…

Soon you reach for the soap again, rubbing it in your hands before bringing his head forward to rest against your chest as you massage it through his curls. His breathing evens out as you do so and his body relaxes so much that you would have believed he had fallen asleep if it hadn’t been for his thumb stroking back and forth against your hip. As you cup his jaw he pulls back, your hands cupping water as he tilts his head back and you wash the soap from his hair. After a few times pouring water followed by your hands raking through the curls he taps your thigh, your hips raise as he slips down the bath and under water to wash the rest away. 

Your view of him is fuzzy while he is under water, his eyes squeezed shut and hand pushing through his hair as he shakes the remnants of soap away before sitting back up again with a splash. You laugh against his lips as he takes in an over-exaggerated breath, wrapping your arms around his neck as he licks into your mouth with a groan. You kiss until you are both breathless, your hands still around his neck as you sit back on your heels. 

“Do you remember the first time we shared a bath?” You ask and Pero grins at the playful sparkle in your eyes. 

He sat up from leaning against the edge of the tub quickly, his hand splashing through the water as he wrapped his arm around your back, his palm pressing against the bottom of your back to hold you close against him. Both of your skin is warm from the water, chest pressed to chest as he smiles up at you. 

“How could I forget,” he presses his lips to your collarbone, kissing back and forth across your skin while whispering against you, “you were so beautiful I thought I was dreaming.” His hands move around from your back, sliding up your hips and across your stomach before cupping the weight of your breasts in his palms. “Somehow you keep getting more beautiful…”

His mouth kisses a path down towards your nipple, his lips wrapping around it gently as his tongue flicks back and forth, while his hand continues to cup your other breast as his fingers pull and twist that nipple. You sigh as he continues with his gentle movements - knowing you were still sensitive this soon after William had been born - and you brush his curls back from his forehead as your hips gently rock against his. 

Your hands continue to smooth across his body as he hums against you, the vibrations going straight to your core as your hands travell up his forearms, gripping his biceps as you roll your hips, before moving up to his shoulders and down his chest to rest on his stomach, then moving back the path they came. 

You sigh his name, lifting your hips slightly as you grip his cock, stroking it a few times beneath the water before you line it up at your core and sink down onto it in one roll of your hips. His mouth leaves your chest, head falling back as he moans your name lowly while gritting his teeth, your hands finding their way to the back of his neck as your fingers tangle in the curls at the back of his head. Without having been opened up on his fingers, like Pero usually takes time to do before giving you his cock, you feel the stretch that much more so; every inch and vein opening you to him until you were fully seated with your hips pressed against his. 

His lips meet yours as you grind down on his cock, moving your hips forwards and backwards without lifting off much, just keeping him deep inside. Each press of his lips against yours is soft until they are barely there, foreheads resting against each other as you gasp for breath resting against one another. His hands are steady on you, one at the bottom of your back holding you upright and the other on your hips as he helps guide each move of you against him. 

His skin is now flushed pink from the warm water and heat from the fire and you dip your head down to kiss back and forth across his chest. With your body not pressed against his as tight, Pero takes this as an opportunity to slide his hand from your hip under the water to the curls that rest atop where he is settled deep inside you. 

Sometimes you think he may know your own body better than you do, the pads of his fingers immediately pressing against the bundle of nerves that has your thighs tensing around his. As he begins to circle your clit you pull the skin on his chest above where his heart rests between your teeth, sucking a dark mark between all the scars that have littered his chest over the years. You soon sit up, hands gripping his shoulders, as he brings you closer and closer towards the edge. 

“Are you going to come, my love? Let me feel it. Let me feel you squeeze my cock.”

You roll your hips harder against him, one of your hands falling to grip his forearm as your thighs begin to grow tired from each time you lift your hips before slamming back down in his cock.

“Pero, Pero, Pero,” you chant, your head rolling back as you feel the heat that is building in the pit of your stomach spread out to the tips of your fingers and toes. 

“Tell me- fuck- tell me how good it feels.”

“S-so good. I feel so full. Just like that, my love, j-just like that-“

You gasp his name as you tip over the edge, your face burying against his neck as your whole body shakes with each wave of pleasure that rocks through you. You barely even register how much you are morning and whining until you hear him whisper against your temple telling you how good you are, how good you feel coming around him like this, his love, his perfect wife.

When your body finally relaxes against him his hand drops back to your hip, the other resting on the back of your neck holding you tight against him as his feet plant in the bottom of the tub and he begins to fuck up into you. Every last breath of air is punched out of you as your nails drag down his arms, the sound of the water splashing around the bath drowning out the small gasps that Pero breathes out. 

“I’m- I’m going to-“

His hand on your hip lifts you off his cock to straddle his stomach, reaching for the cloth that was resting on the side of the bathtub as he quickly strokes himself. You hold his face in your hands and press kisses along his jaw and cheek as he chases his own high, his head finally turning and crashing his lips against yours as he moans into your mouth. You gladly swallow each whine and moan as he spills into the cloth, his moustache rubbing against your soft skin as you wait until he has stilled before you finally pull back. 

You hear the cloth being thrown onto his pile of clothes to be washed and as you look over his face a small smile takes over yours. His eyes are still closed, the permanent frown between his eyebrows is gone and there is a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth as his breathing settles back to normal. You cup his cheeks in your hands and he turns slightly into one, nuzzling your palm as you lean forward and press a kiss to the scar that adorns his eye. 

He smiles fully at that - a show of love that used to make him blush or shy away now spreading a warmth through his chest. With his eyes still closed he chases your lips, pressing three soft kisses in a row before sitting back. His eyes are soft, the fire dwindling slowly as he holds your face in his hand, his thumb swiping across your cheek.

“I love you.”

You lean forward and press another kiss to his lips, repeating the same back before he gently squeezes your hip under the water.

“Come on, love. Let’s get out before it gets too cold.”

He holds your hand as you step out of the tub, taking a towel he had hanging by the fire and wrapping it around you before reaching for his own. You hum contentedly as you are wrapped in the warmth, watching as Pero places your shift and his sleep trousers over the hanging rail as well before dragging the bath to the door to tip out. 

As he walks back in you set another piece of wood on the fire, lifting your now heated sleep clothes off so you can both change by the fire in time for the cries of your son to come. 

“I’ll get him,” Pero leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before letting you settle as he pulls back the curtain that splits the living room and your bedroom.

The light from the fire is enough that you can watch your husband as he leans down over the crib, his mouth moving as he whispers soothing words to William while lifting him against his chest. William is a small child having been born early, even when in your arms, but when he rests against Pero’s chest he looks unbelievably tiny - like one of the dolls your mother had bought you as a child.

Pero places William in your arms as he hushes his cries, waiting until you have him pressed against your chest while pulling your shift down until he joins you by your side. One of his hands rests on your leg and the other reaches for the letter you had almost forgotten about that has been left on the small table by his side. 

You watch William as he feeds while Pero opens the letter, giving him the chance to decide whether he does or doesn’t want to read it out loud - though there is yet to be a time he chooses not to. 

“You were right, it is from William.”

Pero’s hand comes to rest on the back of your neck as he starts to read the letter.

“Hello friend! I hope you and the family are well - I just received your letter on your son - there couldn’t be a better choice of name!”

Pero snorts and you shake your head, your knuckle stroking down William’s cheek. 

“I recently received word from my sister back in Ireland - she is unwell and needs help with her children until she is better. I am riding back out West, as I’m sure you can already tell from the notes in the corner-”

Pero pauses, his finger stroking across the top right of the envelope as he reads outloud the kingdoms the letter has passed through - Denmark, Roman, France…

“I was thinking I could visit your family while there, on the way to and from my sisters? It would be wonderful to see you again, and meet your family. Sending all the best, your friend, William.”

“I hope his sister is alright,” you turned to face Pero and he stroked down your cheek, “but how exciting you get to see your friend! And I finally get to meet William!”

Pero chuckled at your enthusiasm, humming agreeably as he pressed his lips to yours. When he sat back he shrugged and mumbled a non-committal answer but you could see the glint in his eyes, happy to be seeing his closest friend once more. Pero had made friends with others in the village - mainly the Butcher who was around his age and your father - but you knew that William was special; a friend who had gone through so much with your husband.

“Does it say when he should be here?”

“No, but I would think within the next few weeks - he sent this from Denmark,” Pero’s finger stroked across the little mark in the corner that counted each country it passed through. 

“Denmark?” You leaned closer, your eyes bypassing the scribbles on the page to look at the marks in the corner, “wow.”

Pero chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“I didn't like it too much,” Pero said and you scowled at him, “it’s where I got that scar down my back.”

“Hmm, that would put you off a country,” you pretended to be serious and Pero shook his head at you.

“Mama?” A small voice came from behind the couch where you and Pero were sitting.

You both turned around to find Sofía on the bottom step, her blanket sent from Pero’s sister in one hand and the bunny your father had knitted her in the other.

“What are you doing up?” Pero asked as he stood from the couch, walking over and lifting her into his arms.

You could hear her mumble about not being able to sleep as she rubbed her eyes, her arms immediately reaching for you as Pero sat back down beside you. She rested her head on your lap and her feet on Pero’s as he wrapped the blanket back around her, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. 

“I guess we have them both down here tonight.”

You both relaxed as Sofía and William fell back asleep, the sun going down outside the window. Once William had finished feeding Pero lifted Sofía back up, her small arms wrapping around his neck as you followed closely behind with William. While you settled him in the crib, Pero pulled back the covers for your bed and placed Sofía in the middle before you climbed into the other side, her small body finding a way to cuddle into the both of you.

With your head on the pillow, Pero lifted out the letter from William again, reading it aloud to you once more as you fell asleep so you could dream of all the far off lands, before blowing out the candle and placing the envelope into the drawer by his bed along with the rest of them. 

It had been a while since William had been in one of Pero’s dreams that wasn’t a nightmare of battles past, but that night he dreamt of his friend finally meeting his family he was proud of.

//

tags

@phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179 @sarahjkl82-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @blackmarketmummy @bison-writes  @queridopascal @sfr99 @rosiefridayrogersunday @tintinn16 @pilothusband @voteforpedro09  @dihra-vesa @frankiecatfish @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @transias @peoniarose @pjkimrn @fangirl-316 @niki-xie @potted–ivy @phandoz @janebby @athalien @xocalliexo @amneris21 @lavenderluna10 @iamskyereads @spacenerdpascal @mswarriorbabe80 @dumplinshee @jitterbugs927 @gracie7209 @lovesbiggerthanpride​ @bonktime @justpedropascal @coldlilheart @shadowolf993 @stylelovechild @frostsoldier @idreamofboobear @artsymaddie @ajeff855 @strangelittlenobody @elegantduckturtle​ @roxypeanut @shedobeclownin @itstheanxietyforme @raphaelaisabella @nolanell @hb8301​ @darnitdraco​ @lovesbiggerthanpride​ @girlofchaos​ @nolanell​ @buckybarneshairpullingkink​

[gloriafc]

Baby

Slight greys anatomy mention

You're Eddie's daughter. You were the product of a teen pregnancy, the reason your parents got married. They had Christopher as an attempt to save their marriage and it worked for a little bit. When your mom left you were also graduating high school and ready to go off to college.

"Dad I don't have to go. I can take a year off. You need help with Christopher." "I can handle it mija. You go and become a doctor like you want. Make us proud okay?" And you do just that, the year you graduate med school is the same year he joins the 118. You take a trip to visit them and help them move before your internship starts, Christopher of course is very happy to see you without a screen separating you two and your dad is happy to see how much you've grown.

You start your internship in Seattle, becoming a surgeon at Seattle Grace.

When the fire station finds out about Christopher, no one finds out about you, your dad not knowing how to bring up that he has an adult daughter.

When the incident with the bomb in the or happens, your dad is worried about you resulting in him finally telling the firehouse about you. "Why didn't you ever say anything?" "I don't know. I don't put pictures up, there was never any reason. But now." "Now she's been injured."

They don't get the chance to meet you until the mass shooting, you've been shot twice in your side protecting others. Your dad is your emergency contact and gets the call while he's at work. He freezes as he listens to the doctor talk, "She's alive though right?" Everyone can hear the worry in his voice an immediately question him when he gets off the phone. Bobby immediately gives him time off as he and Christopher head to Seattle to visit you.

It kills Eddie to see you injured, you're his baby girl after all, but you hide your pain well around Christopher. After you get discharged you decide to head back to LA during your time off to heal and to be with your family. So you finally get to meet everyone. Of course Buck quickly becomes the protective uncle you never had, and you're happy to see that your dad has a friend like him.

Halfway through your visit is when your mom comes back, and you don't really know how to feel. You've always bumped heads with her, but it got worse when she'd fight with your dad, even worse when she decided to leave and never made it to any of your graduations. And now you're an adult who watched you're dad build up everything she tore down. She didn't know that you were staying with your dad and tried to hide her reaction when she saw you sitting on the couch with Christopher playing a game of cards.

You tried to keep things civil but you can only do so much on your part. You kept your responses short or hardly spoke unless spoken too, until one night you both finally snapped. There was nothing Eddie could do, he loved you both, but he knew this was something you both needed to work out. "Admit it mom. If you knew I was here you never would've come back, not yet at least." "Y/N-" "No! I bet you don't even know the reason why I'm here. Fuck you couldn't even show up to my graduations. You say you left for yourself but what about your kids? You said dad never made time because of work, but he did. He was there. Me and Christopher forgave him for the things he missed because he made up for it. And you were too busy being pissed that once you got the chance you dipped. You probably don't even know that I went to medical school. That I put in so much effort I graduated early. That I'm a surgeon and one of the ones at the top of my class. And you can't even be proud because I'm a mistake." No one knows how to respond so you continue, "Admit it. You never would've married dad if I wasn't born, if I wasn't a mistake."

You leave the house and as much as Eddie wants to go after you he knows you better than that, better than your mom. He stands in the kitchen doorway as your mom sits at the table with her head in her hands, "She's always been difficult." He can only look at her, "No she hasn't. She's hurt and she has every right to be. She's right she was a mistake, but I wouldn't have it any other way. But what about you? She's here because she was shot twice in a mass shooting protecting others from the shooter, but you didn't know that. You didn't know your daughters a hero. You probably didn't know that she was injured by a bomb either. But I did because I was the first person she called, because I am her father. I made up everything I missed for them because of how much I love them, they both understand that I made a sacrifice to keep us financially stable. They learned love comes with sacrifices from me. You had your reasons to leave and I know that but she's right, you had no reason to leave your kids behind, you could've sent them post cards or something. I had the decency to write letters while I was on yours. I'm so proud of her, of the things she's done. She tried to take a year off of school to help me with Christopher because I had no idea what I was doing, but I figured it out. She lives in Seattle but she still finds time to call and text so Christopher doesn't think he's the reason shes gone. She's sacrificed just as much as everyone else, so if you still think she's a mistake, then what did you think our marriage was? Why did you come back thinking she wouldn't be apart of things like she's not your daughter as well?"

Athena's the one to see you walking the street at night, recognizing you from one of the pictures Christopher showed her. "You're Eddie's daughter right?" "Uh yeah, Y/N." She sits with you, "Athena, Bobby's wife. Why are you out here so late?" You don't know why but you vent to her, "My uh. My mom came back. And we got into a fight." You explain everything to her and she offers her couch to sleep on seeing that you don't want to go home just yet.

In the morning Bobby is the one to drop you off, your dad opening the door when he hears the car in his driveway. You walk passed everyone not wanting to say anything, but your dad follows you to Christopher's room where all your stuff is. "Where'd you go?" "I met Athena she let me sleep on her couch. I already ate, Bobby made breakfast." "Mija-" "Dad I just want to take a shower. I'll probably catch a bus and head somewhere. I'll be back before dinner." He can only sigh as he looks at the floor as you rummage through your bags, "She might be staying." "That's your marriage dad, not mine. You work out what you need to work out. I'm going back to work in a couple days anyways. I'll have to deal with a therapist there. Everything will be fine." He moves and pulls you into his arms sighing as you wrap your arms around his waist and press your face into his chest like you did when you were little, "When did you grow up?" "When I got boobs." You both laugh before he kisses your head and tells you he's heading to work leaving you in a quiet house with your mom in the kitchen.

You quickly shower and head out before your mom can even say anything to you, getting back just as your dad arrives. You end up leaving a note for your dad and leaving in the middle of the night with all your stuff, catching a cab to the airport and catching a early flight back to Seattle. Of course Eddie is upset but he understands that you and your mom will just continue to bump heads and if you think it's what's best for yourself, who is he to argue, you're an adult.

Of course you text and video call all the time, sometimes catching him when he's at the fire station and he's just happy to see you're happy and healthy.

When the plane crash happens he finds it weird that he hasn't talked to you in a few days but brushes things off thinking you're just busy. The day you call, he's at the firehouse with Christopher for a family dinner, he happily answers the phone. "Hey baby! We're having dinner, do you want to talk to Christopher?" His smile quickly faulters when he hears your shaky voice, "Daddy." He quickly walks off after checking that your brother was with Buck, "What happened?" "There. There was an accident. We had a case. We. We had to fly to Idaho. The uh. The plane. The engines were faulty and the plane crashed. My. My right side was, uh. They have to do surgery to repair my right side from my ribs to my knee."

Eddie can feel tears threaten to fall just listening to how scared you are but you continue talking, "They did enough to fix everything but they're sending me to LA for the rest of the cosmetic surgeries and physical therapy while they work out everything with HR. I'm already at the airport with some medical staff, were getting on the plane." Your dad runs a hand down his face as he tries to stay calm, "Uh okay. Call me when you get here. I'll meet you at the airport in a few hours."

Your mom is the one to find your dad outside, "What's going on? Christopher's waiting for you to play the game with him and Buck." "I'm uh I'm going to the airport. Tell him to start the game and I'll play tomorrow." "What happened?" "Y/N was in a plane crash they're flying her here." "I'll go with you." "No. Just stay with Christopher. We don't. We don't need a recap of what happened last time. Not while she's like this. And I need to be alone. Before I see her, with her injuries."

Your dad waits for hours at the airport, the staff tell him where the airplane will land and offer to take him out when the plane lands so he can stay with you. You're out cold when he gets to you, "She started freaking out before the plane took off, which was understandable we sedated her to keep her under for the plane ride, she should be waking up soon."

Your dad sits by your side as you sleep. He counts and recounts all the IVs connected to you, quickly standing when he hears Christopher, "Dad what happened to Y/N?" He looks at your mom and the rest of the firehouse behind them, "What are you guys doing here?" Buck answers, "You left without saying bye. We figured you needed some support, that she needed some support after we heard what happened. She's family too." While everyone is distracted Christopher makes his way to the spot your dad was sitting in and grabs your hand. You're laying on your left side due to your injuries and Christopher can only wonder what happened to you. After a few minutes you open your eyes squeezing the small boys hand in yours, "You're awake Y/N/N." "Hi Christopher."

At the sound of your voice your dad is immediately at your side, "How are you feeling?" Your sarcastic side comes out, letting your dad know you're okay for now, "Like I fell out of a plane."

Of course everyone quickly learns how bad doctors are as patients, "The stitches are wrong." "They should've done this, it's faster." Buck easily jokes with you, "The doctors are probably ready to discharge you and your whining already." "They wouldn't be if they knew how to do their jobs right."

After you get discharged your dad takes you home. Everyone can see you're out of it, so someone is always with you, even your mom, but the conversations stay short but trying for your dad and brother. One day Athena offers to take you out to lunch. "How've you been feeling?" "I don't know." "Your dad's worried about you. Everyone is. You're putting on a brave face." You blink away tears, something that doesn't go unnoticed by Athena, "What's wrong?" You look around thankful you got a corner table and it was a slow day for the restaurant. You take a deep breath before looking at Athena, "I haven't told my dad yet, but a few days before the accident I found out I was pregnant. I'm not anymore... Obviously."

Athena sits with you, talking about the news that is no longer news for anyone, "Are you going to tell your dad?" "I don't know. I think. I think I'm still trying to process everything. The baby. A miscarriage. The crash. The fact that I was only a few seats away from getting crushed to death." Athena nods, "Do you know what's happening with everyone else that was on the plane?" "Uh yeah. The hospital is taking fault for using that airline service with known cases of faulty engines, were basically sueing the hospital for damages up to 15 million each. It'd shut down the hospital, but we all plan on purchasing it." "So you're going to own a hospital." "Part of it along with the others that were on the plane. So I'm not actually pocketing anything right now, but over time."

After a few more days you tell your dad about the miscarriage as you both sit on the porch, "Did you tell the dad?" "No. Uh we were never in a relationship. At least I don't think we were. It only happened once and we were both pretty drunk."

After another month you go back to work to finish off your residency. You apply for fellowships, but know which one you're going to accept. You never tell your dad, opting on surprising him randomly. You show up at the firehouse, your dad running over as soon as Hen points you out, "What are you doing here?" You smile, "I decided which fellowship I'm taking." It takes a second for it to click in his head, "The one here?" You don't get the chance to respond before your dad's picking you up in a bear hug. "Wait until Christopher finds out."

You jump into working, even though you live in your own house now your dad and brother are both excited to have you close again. After a few years, and after your mom's death, things fall into a normalcy. You get invited to any family dinners Bobby and Athena throw and you always find time to spend with your dad and brother.

You manage to become chief of trauma, you still have your board seat in Seattle and occasionally fly out sometimes taking Christopher and your dad for a getaway.

The first time anyone in the firehouse actually sees you in your natural habitat is when they have to bring in a druggie with a gsw. Athena is also there since the patient is the one who had the gun. Buck was grazed by a bullet so the firehouse was still in the ER while he got patched up, as Athena asks you about the patient. "I wouldn't try questioning him yet. He's still whining like a baby." "Can't you give him something for that?" "If I give him morphine I'd have to pump his stomach. And considering he knows the exact name of the morphine I'd have to use. I'm deciding against that. It's one bullet that was at the surface and has been removed. He can suck it up, I'm not gonna be the one to aide in his addiction."

All the beds are in the open with curtains as dividers so everyone can hear the man complaining and pulling against his restraints. The firehouse can hear everything go down when you declare he's ready to leave. "You gotta give me something for the pain." You simply look at him before shaking your head, "I really don't." "You bitch." You push the man back down on the bed making him since since his wound is on his shoulder, "You're the bitch in this situation. The pain you're feeling is from withdrawal from all the drugs in your system you idiot. You want something for the pain fine but that comes with your stomach getting pumped. Do you really want that considering you're over here bitching about a small bullet wound?" The man looks at you before seething, "You don't know the pain I'm in!" "Try me. Your bullet was at the surface and has been removed, the area was numbed with cream so you didn't even feel it. I've been shot twice in a mass shooting both bullets imbedded in muscle. I survived a bomb incident, a plane crash, and a miscarriage while stranded during that plane crash. So tell me I've never felt worse." When the man doesn't say anything you look at Athena, "Get him out of here."

Your dad looks at the spot you were standing, he's never heard the things you've been through ever leave your mouth like that. Bobby sets his hand on his shoulder, "She's tough Eddie. She's fine."

When a natural disaster occurs the hospital sends out surgeons to aid first responders for the people who wouldn't make it to the hospital otherwise, you're one of the few that get sent out due to your trauma certification being more than qualified. The firehouse is lightweight surprised to see you in the field working the tent. "You got sent out?" "You do realize I worked in a trauma one center right? My first year we had a ferry crash." Everyone is amazed with how fast and calmly you work, half of the patients you get wouldn't of survived even getting on an ambulance otherwise.

There is one patient who's stuck under a piece of cement inside a building but is in critical condition. Unfortunately you're the only one small enough to fit through the gap to get to him. "No! She's not going in there!" You can only look at your dad, "We have no choice. We can save him." Reluctantly your dad lets you go knowing you'd go anyways and he doesn't technically have a say in what you can and can't do. They give you your dad's jacket and helmet as a precaution before you slowly slip through the hole. You yell out when you reach the patient allowing the firehouse to continue trying to get the guy out.

You manage to move the patient under a stable piece of metal before suddenly yelling out making everyone stop, "What's going on?" "It's starting to collapse!" Before anyone can respond the building shifts closing the hole they were making. You dad starts freaking out, "We have to get her out of there!" "And we will. Eddie calm down or sit out."

When they finally get to where you and the patient are they can see the patient is stabilized and sort of groggy but they find your body a few feet away. Due to you having your dad's protective gear he wasn't allowed to enter the building but Buck is at your side checking on you, "I got a pulse! She has a leg stuck under some concrete. She probably knocked out after she got stuck." Bobby nods, "Let's get them out of here!"

Your dad watches as Chimney and Hen bring out the man, "Where's Y/N?" Chimney sets the man up on a gurney as Hen talks to your dad, "She moved the man out of the way. She has a pulse but her leg was caught under some concrete." Just as she finishes Buck and Bobby leave the building with you in Bucks arms. Eddie is instantly taking you into his arms as he slowly sets you down on the ground, "Baby wake up." You let out a groan before slowly opening your eyes, "Why are you so loud?" Everyone chuckles, even your dad, at your ability to bounce back so fast even with a broken leg.

Everyone helps you out while your leg heals, Christopher decided to spend the night with you one night and before your dad left he sat with you on the porch. He looks at the cast that everyone has signed and Christopher has drawn multiple pictures on before throwing his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest, "When did you grow up?" "The day you told me go to college to make you proud. Did I?" "You did... You're still not dating until you're 45." You can't help but laugh and shake your head as you both watch the street lights come on and the stars come out. "Aren't you the one that had a kid at 16? The irony." "You're my baby I can be as ironic as I want."

[peachyteabuck]

come water me ☂

summary: after years of depending on science to give you a child, you think giving a magic a shot isn’t a half-bad idea (a commission for @myhoneybeeheart) 

pairing: steve rogers x thor odinson x reader (established steve rogers x reader)

words: 3,538

trigger warnings: infertility, MMF threesomes, creampies, praise kink, breeding kink, cuckolding, angst if you squint but like REALLY squint. REALLY REALLY squint. 

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

You and Steve had both done every test known to every male and female fertility specialist in the United States, along with several European countries, Japan, China, and Australia. Every single one, for each of you, pointed to the same thing – infertility.

Persistent infertility. As in, the both of you are not only infertile, but will continue to be infertile despite any type of treatments any type of doctor wants to put you through. Steve doesn’t qualify for experimental treatments, and you’ve tried at least five to no avail.

Long story short, neither of you can have biological children.

The problem is, you both really want biological children. But, according to biology, it just isn’t going to happen.

“Science says so,” the last doctor had told you, voice full of apology. “I’m so sorry.”

That particularly heartbreaking appointment was in the late afternoon, but the battery of tests meant you and your husband were stuck in the shitty doctor’s office until long past when the sun had set. You were grateful how dark it was when you left, terrified some Captain America stan or paparazzi would get a high definition picture of both you with puffy faces along with snot and stray tears still running down your face. It was late when you got back to your secluded high rise, neither of you hungry nor willing to feign it enough to order something. You didn’t know about Steve, but the sadness had somehow overwhelmed every single one of your senses – making your taste buds pointless and limbs numb. Silently, the both of you got ready for bed and held each other as emotional exhaustion acted as a second weighted blanket and lulled you both to sleep.

It was the next morning when you thought of what you had dubbed “the plan.” You had gotten up before Steve (unusual, as you’d been together long enough that wallowing in self pity was a shared activity) and sat at the kitchen table with unbrushed teeth, messy hair, and the sort of determination that comes with a self-reflexive ultimatum: if “the plan” didn’t work, you’d stop trying. You’d tell Steve that you’ve come to terms with your inability to conceive and continue your journey to start from the assumption that there was nothing either of you could do to make it happen. It’s a heartbreaking reality, but it was one you were willing to accept.

It took a few days to work up the courage, to find the right time to broach the idea with the man you chose to spend the rest of your life with. The perfect moment ended up being when you were both eating dinner, Steve telling a story about something ridiculous Peter had done on a mission (turns out, flirting with a fellow agent undercover as a full service sex worker is not a good idea). You were both happy, incredibly so, and you knew whenever your husband talked about the kid it ignited the special light inside of him that wanted to be a father.

It was the tail end of the story, he was two beers down (a special mix Tony had concocted that balanced with Steve’s serum-induced metabolism), and he was happy. So with a deep inhale and sustained eye contact, you rambled with your prepared speech that covered a few of concerns you knew Steve would have and informed him of your personal deal.

You finished quickly – words tumbling out of your mouth before you knew they were being spoken. Your heart beat loudly in your chest, blood rushed to your ears. You were terrified.

That was, until Steve gave his reply a few hours later.

(He asked if he could table the conversation for a little while, wanting to “think it over.” Of course you told him it was okay, especially since you knew there was dessert still waiting to be eaten in the fridge, and you were still very hungry.)

You imagined a lot of responses from your husband, the worst of which sounded like the beginning of a particularly sad Shonda Rhimes television show:

“You want to what?” Steve nearly screams. “You want to invite Thor Odinson in our marriage bed so that we can have a child!? No! I won’t allow it!”

You fall to the ground, sobbing, clutching your phone as you scream back. “I want what’s best for us! For our family! For our future child!”

Steve storms out of the bedroom, turning back to your crumbled figure just before stomping out. “I’m calling a divorce lawyer. I want you out by Monday.”

You expected you’d have to convince him, would have to coax his clenched jaw towards your face so he’d know how serious you are from the look in your eyes. Maybe you’d have to wait days, weeks, months before he’d agree, would have to have long conversations with him and his colleague about negotiations and boundaries and whatever else.  

What you didn’t expect was for Steve to agree not only immediately, but enthusiastically.

“T-that’s it?” you asked. You both were in bed, reading separate books before you’d each turn off the lights and go to sleep. He was reading something about battle tactics during Vietnam while you were thumbing through a book about the history of swearing.

Steve did not look up from his novel. “You want to have a threesome with Thor in the hopes it’ll give us a baby?”

You looked to him, brow furrowed. “Yeah?”

Now he puts the book down and turns to you. “The worst thing that happens is we have sex with a literal deity?”

At first you think he’s joking but, nope. He’s serious.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply again.

Steve shrugs before going back to his book. “Then yeah, but you have to call him.”

You blink a few times – shocked. Pleasantly shocked, but still shocked. “That’s…a deal. Yeah. I can, I’ll talk to him.”

Steve smiles, turning back to you once more and giving you a peck on the cheek. “Sounds good, babe. Let me know what he says.”

You nod, still a little surprised. “O-of course.”

With that, the conversation ends, and you need to figure out how to contact the man in question.

The next morning, you learn from the detailed calendar Tony’s assistant keeps that Thor’s on Migard for the rest of the month, doing…whatever. Honestly, you have no idea what he’s doing, and – even more honestly – you don’t care. Short of saving an entire population from destruction, you’re sure he can make time for you.

Luckily you find him easily, watching some reality show about weird white people in the living room of a common floor. You take deep breaths for stepping into eyeshot, asking if you can sit next to him (he says yes) before you start what is likely the most uncomfortable conversation of your life.

Somehow, though, Thor beats you to it. “If you want me to help you and Steve conceive, just tell me the date and time you want me in your bed.”

Even more so than when Steve accepted your recent proposal, you’re surprised by Thor’s forwardness. “Um-“

Thor smiles, putting a comforting arm around your shoulders before pulling you close against him. “Listen, I’ve done this with many families on many planets. I’ve never done it on Earth, but I’m willing to give it a try for you two. You deserve a child, and I’d be happy to help with that.”

You wipe a stray tear before allowing yourself to be enveloped into Thor’s massive arms. “Thank you,” you tell him after your heart had stopped beating at your ribs as if they were boxers going for the championship title. “Thank you so much.”

You feel Thor smile against the side of your head. “Of course, anything for you.”

You return to Steve with your findings, who agrees to set it up for the next night. The few hours before the mythical man is scheduled to arrive are an otherworldly combination, as if you had put giddy excitement, gut-wrenching fear, and determined optimism in a Nutribullet with bananas and strawberries and vanilla Greek yogurt and served it with-

“Honey, he said we both have to eat before,” Steve pulls the breaks on your train of thought, nudging your plate of food towards you with a small smile.  “I’ve known you for long enough to know what you overthinking and forgetting to eat looks like.”

You nod and sigh, biting into the seasoned steamed vegetables. “Sorry, I-“

Steve shakes his head, swallowing whatever from his plate he was chewing. “I’ve also known you long enough to not need you to explain. Just eat.”

He’s right, you think as you clear your plate. You’ve known Steve for over a decade, dating for nine of them and married for seven. He met you through Natasha, who knew you from your work as a professor studying the differing effects of veterans and civilians (how she found you is still a mystery) and invited you to a conference that Stark was funding and therefore required the Avengers to make an appearance. He knew everything about you, and you knew everything about him.

For the first time in a long time, you wonder whether that’s a good thing, or a bad one.

When Thor arrives, he directs the two of you with ease, accepting a glass of expensive red wine as he follows you to the expansive bedroom.

He makes you strip first, tells you to lay in the center of the bed with your legs spread over the end and arms at your side. Steve’s next, already half-hard as he takes his position by your head, on his knees so he can watch the show in front of you. He’s naked, erection hard against his chiseled stomach.

“You’re so beautiful,” you tell him, blissed out before anything had ever begun.

He smiles down at you, same look in his eye the same day you got married. “You, too babe.”

Thor lets you have the moment as he undresses himself, letting you wrap a hand around Steve’s cock as he slots himself between your legs.

“Mm,” Thor hums, tracking your every move with a precise eye. “What a pretty cunt you have…”

A deep moan from you cuts him off as he kneels and licks a wide stripe up your dripping center, his large hands moving under your knees to bend your legs to your chest.

“Oh!” you cry, one of your hands moving to clutch his long blonde hair. “Oh that feels so good!”

You can feel Thor smiling into your folds as one of his perfectly calloused fingers slowly enters you, reveling in your now-mindless acceptance of pleasure. “So tight,” he moans. “Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

It doesn’t take long for your brain to fry, losing your ability to do anything but moan and sloppily jerk off your husband as Thor begins to fuck two fingers in and out of you at a bruising pace.

Steve watches you intensely, takes over jerking his own dick when you lose control of the muscles in your hands.

Thor scoffs, rolling his eyes you pout when his lips leave you.

“C’mon, love,” he murmurs into your inner thigh. “Don’t neglect the man.”

Nearly panting, you wrap your lips around Steve’s cock while Thor continues eating you out.

“Fuck you’re so good at this,” Steve hisses as you start to gag on him, running your tongue on the underside of his cock.

You do your best to smile as one hand moves to play with his balls, eyes screwing shut as you turn all your attention onto your husband’s cock.

“That feel good?” Thor asks, hand around the base of his cock. He grunts when Steve nods, his head thrown back in ecstasy. “C’mon, Stevie. Tell me how good your wife’s mouth feels on your dick.”

Steve swallows what little spit is left in his mouth before trying to remember how to speak. “It f-feels so good,” he’s breathless, chest straining as he tries not to come. “Wet and t-tight, the best thing I’ve ever felt.”

Thor grunts deep in his chest, as if he’s restraining himself. “Keeping going – and tell me when you’re about to cum.”

Steve moans when he hits the back of your throat, both hands now tangled in your hair. “F-feels so good, like she’s sucking the life out of me through my fucking dick- Oh fuck!”

You’re deep throating him now, breathing through your nose as you gag.

“T-Thor,” he moans, voice strained. “I-I think I’m-“

“Stop,” the man at the end of the bed commands as he continues fucking his fingers in and out of you. Reluctantly, you do as you’re told, ceasing all actions and giving Steve the most pitiful look you can muster.

“C’mere pretty girl,” Thor murmurs, leaving one last kiss at the most sensitive part of you. “It’s time for me to fuck you.”

You and Steve both moan deeply as he lifts himself to his feet and aligns himself with your center – hardened cock bobbing against his stomach. The sight is enough to make your center tighten, skin on fire as you wait for him to gift you reprieve.

“Such a perfect little pussy,” Thor mumbles to no one but himself, grinning wide as he enters you.

Little words are exchanged after that, Thor focusing on the feeling of your cunt instead of talking.

“Oh Thor-“ you moan, pulling away from Steve to throw your head back once more. “Oh shit holy-“

Thor just laughs, leaning down so he can kiss you. He places one hand next to your head for balance, the other moving to jerk Steve’s cock for you. His whole body works like a perfectly build machine, hips and hand working in tandem to get all three of you off. His movements are languid and purposeful, as if each muscle contraction and release was planned long, long ago in some expert fashion.

As Steve moans once again that he’s close, you remember what Thor had told you the day previous – that he had done this for other people attempting to build their families. In an instant, you were struck with the fear that this was somehow mechanical for him, something he was doing out of some sense of duty with half his brain focused on what he was going to have for dinner or what fruit was in season – something mundane and minutely distracting so he could phone it in and take the credit when the pregnancy test came back positive.  

Thor notices you’re drifting away, grabs you with one hand and coaxes your eyes to meet his. “Don’t worry about anything, baby,” he tells you, voice low in his chest. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

It’s comforting – you can’t describe why, don’t even understand why; but even if you could, Steve’s begging cuts your train of thought short.

“Fuck please,” his voice is high and desperate, anything left of his precious Captain America façade torn to shreds by the possibility of denial. “Please let me come!”

Thor just shakes his head and smiles, putting him through the same torture as he did before but continuing fucking you – ignoring Steve’s cries as he rubs at your clit.

“Ignore him, baby,” he murmurs to you, “C’mon, focus on how good it’s gonna feel when I make you come.”

That’s all it takes for you to lose yourself, to throw your head back and buck your hips up and scream as loud as your exhausted lung will allow. At the last second before you reach your peak Thor moves away from you to grab the back of Steve’s head, pulling the man into a deep kiss.

“Fuck,” Thor groans against Steve’s lips. “Fuck you’re both so gorgeous I’m, fuck, I’m gonna-“

Thor releases himself inside of you with a deafening shout, moaning into Steve’s mouth as his come spills out of you. You’re speechless, watching them kiss above you while you pant.

For a moment there’s silence – the thick scent of sex and the wet sounds of their mouths and your pussy being the only things that fill the air. The only thing that cuts through it is Thor’s gruff voice instructing Steve to take his place between your legs.

The shuffling is awkward but gives you a minute to breathe, the clouds in your brain clearing with a few seconds of being left alone. Unlike Steve, Thor lays next to you on his side, one hand framing your jaw as he kisses you deeply.

Steve takes a moment to admire Thor’s cum dripping out of your pussy, resisting the urge to kneel down and lay his tongue there and drink it all down.

He swallows what little spit is left in his mouth as he enters you, body trembling as his eyes roll to the back of his head. The feeling of your pussy – though familiar – is sublime; mixed with the feeling of Thor’s cum inside of you makes him want to cry from the overwhelming pleasure.

He doesn’t, though, he somehow gets his brain and cock to reconnect so that he can fuck you despite his entire body screaming. You’re sensitive – if Steve couldn’t read your body language, your screaming moans and eyes screwed shut would tell him. It’s a precious thing to see you in such a feral state, to see you fucked out and desperate and begging to be pushed over the cliff again and again and again. You’re normally a very professional woman – always put together and well-spoken and knowledgeable in any subject necessary.  To see you incoherent, lost to the pleasure – it’s something special Steve is determined to remember for the rest of his days.

“Such a good boy,” Thor tells him when he notices Steve’s concentration fading. “You fuck your wife so well for me,” he turns to you, leaving a kiss at the corner of your panting mouth. “Doesn’t your husband fuck you so good?”

“Y-yes,” you reply after you take a second to process what he’s asking of you. “Steve’s so good at fucking a baby into me, makes me feel so good I, oh!”

Something in Steve snaps as he listens to Thor, elicits something primal that makes him dig his fingers into the pit of your pushed-up knees as he pounds into you without mercy.

“Gonna-“ Steve moans. “Gonna fuck our baby into you, gonna make sure everyone knows how good I fuck you, fuck!”

Thor just smiles all big and toothy, looking between your face and Steve’s. Just as confident as before, he trails the same hand as before between your breasts and down your stomach, rubbing at your sensitive nub once more.

“You can do it, baby,” he whispers to you, coaxing another orgasm out of you with skilled fingers. “You’re so beautiful, I want to watch you come again. You can do that, right? You can come again for me?”

You shake your head, too overwhelmed to form coherent sentences. “I, I- “

“Shh,” he trails his thumb – still soaked with your slick and his precum – “It’s okay, my little dove. You can do it once more for me and Steve. C’mon, you can do it with him, right?”

You don’t speak, don’t move, don’t do anything – too focused on the feeling of Thor next to you and Steve on top of you and Thor rubbing at your clit and Steve fucking your pussy and the warmed sheets between your fingers and the sweat pooling between your breasts and-

“Fuck!” Steve’s screams mirror your own internal monologue. “Fuck I’m-“

Thor uses the thumb that was just under your lip to grab Steve’s jaw, forcing their eyes to meet just as he had done many times before. “Come for me.”

You and Steve’s orgasms come at the same time, the both of you twitching as you fall slowly, deliriously, from the shared delicious high.

When the French coined folie a duex, you’d always assumed it was about some madness that happened to manifest in two people. But what is defined as “madness?” Could it be the sweet satisfaction that flows through each of your veins like gold? Could it be the vacant contentment behind Steve’s eyes? Could it be the vacant content behind yours?

Somehow, Thor maneuvers the two of you so that all three of you can lay there, out of breath and sweaty all over as each of you stares at separate spots on the ceiling.

You’re the one to break the silence, stuck between the two men in the center of the large bed. “Do you think it worked?”

Steve turns towards you, leaning on one arm while the other spreads itself over your stomach. “I think so.”

Thor turns over next, mirroring Steve’s position. Free hand, though, goes to cup your face, pulling you in for a quick peck on the lips before guiding you to Steve for a much deeper kiss.

“I think so, too,” the large man says eventually, watching as you and Steve remain locked together. He doesn’t think either of you can hear him, but he smiles at the softness on both of your faces nonetheless.

[seagreen-meets-grey]

When Lightning Strikes Ch. 15

When your life is nothing but a cloudless sky, lightning can come and strike you so unexpectedly, you won’t even know what hit you.

Or: When Hiccup and Astrid meet, it is as if lightning strikes.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 18] [Chapter 19] [Chapter 20]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

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The rain splattering against the window glass shook Hiccup out of his stupor. Lips still tingling where they had just so brushed against hers, he hurried through the apartment and onto the balcony where the wind was blowing enough rain under the roof that it hit most of his clothes. Resigned, he picked up the drying rack and maneuvered it into the living room. It wasn’t like any of the clothes had already dried, anyway. Besides, this had distracted him for at least two minutes from his brain’s attempt at understanding what had happened in the last hour.

A knot was forming in his stomach and it grew limbs, spreading into his chest, knocking against his ribs for attention. “Oh, bud. What a mess, huh.” Toothless looked up from his nap on the couch, blinking at Hiccup before laying his eyes on the newest accessory in the room. A few socks were still swinging slightly from earlier momentum and he swiped at them with his paw. Hiccup picked him up and flopped onto the couch himself, putting the cat down on his stomach where it immediately lay down and eyed him expectantly.

“This is not going to end well. We can’t pretend anymore that everything’s fine. And I can’t still wait for her to get more clarity and maybe eventually come around, can I?” Toothless started licking his paw. “Yeah, yeah. I know, bud.” He sighed. “No more waiting, no more guessing, no more holding out. She’s on her way home right now. She’ll want to save her marriage. And I can’t stand between her and a happy life now, right?” The cat didn’t answer, only the voice of a radio host crossed the distance between him and the kitchen. He ran his hand over the sleek black fur until the sound of purring provided the right background noise for his thoughts.

“It doesn’t matter what I feel and it doesn’t matter if she ever felt something for me-“, he allowed himself a moment of daydreaming, “because she has a husband, and yeah, they need to work through some issues, but if she wants to do that, then I want to support her decision. I don’t want to, but then again, I do. Toothless, does that make sense?” The cat’s ears perked up at the sound of its name. Hiccup looked his bud in the eyes, searching for an answer to his dilemma. “I guess, if you love somebody, you want them to be happy, even if it means you leave empty-handed and with a life’s worth of heartache.”

For a while, he watched the gray sky through the living room windows, stroking his cat’s back. The radio host was replaced by ads, then music, briefly interrupted by a traffic report. Some confused Toyota driver was going the wrong way. Or maybe they were going the right way, they just picked the wrong lane. Or the wrong way on the right lane. Did that make sense? What was the right way to go here? Was he doing the right thing? Was there even a right lane to pick?

He groaned and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. The purring stopped. Soon enough, the weight on his stomach disappeared when Toothless decided he’d had enough of Hiccup’s drama. “You’re right, bud. Can’t keep doing this forever.” He lifted himself up with a heavy heart trying to pull him back down. But there was no use.

On his way out, he grabbed only his phone and an umbrella. The air had cooled significantly, raising goosebumps on his skin. Maybe he should have brought a jacket. He considered going back inside to get one, but the option of staying there and waiting for the world to fix itself was too tempting, so he turned around and started walking down the street. He had to end this.

_______________

She had to end this. The entire ride home, she drummed her fingers on the wheel, bounced her unoccupied leg up and down, shifted on her seat with restless energy at every traffic light, every intersection, every speed limit sign. She was both anxious and determined. There had never been a point in her life where she’d been more sure about anything. Least of all on her actual wedding day, as she could finally admit with a feeling of sweet relief.

When she turned her key in the door to the apartment, however, her hands felt like lead. While she’d come clean about her feelings to herself, she had yet to do it in front of someone else, someone who deserved to know it probably the most. Someone whose voice carried over from the living room.

Quietly closing the door behind her, she took off shoes and still damp jacket like she’d done for almost every day for the past year and a half. Her keys jingled and she closed her fist around them in order to smother the sound. Why she didn’t want him to know she was here was beyond her, but the second she decided on announcing her presence, someone else beat her to the chase.

Momentarily perplexed, she halted in her step towards the living room, trying to place the male voice chattering away, prompting a chuckle from Eret. Her curiosity whacked her anxiety over the head and she turned the corner to see who it was.

The man sitting next to Eret on the couch was unfamiliar to her. Tall, broad shoulders, muscles, casually-styled sandy hair. Crossed legs, one arm draped over the back of the couch, the other holding a beer, comfortable. He was the first to notice her, pausing mid-sentence to curiously raise his eyebrows in her direction. His eyes were the color of liquid chocolate, at least 70% cocoa. He was handsome, with a pleasant, welcoming smile. Eret followed his eyes and flinched.

Astrid raised a hand in greeting, uncertain about what to do. This other person in the apartment disrupted her plan. “Hi.”

“Hi, there.” The man waved back, looking at Eret expectantly, waiting for an introduction.

Eret cleared his throat, a nervous tilt in his smile. “Um, this is Astrid, my wife. Astrid… This is Timothy.” She racked her brain when that name rung a bell somewhere in the back of her mind, especially as he sent her a meaningful look. “My coworker. The one I told you about.”

“Oh,” she said. Then something clicked. “Oh.” The coworker he’d told her about. Repeatedly. The one she’d mistook for his mistress. Well, fuck, kill her now.

“Nice to meet you, hon.” When she frowned at that nickname, he was quick to put his hands up in an apologetic manner. “Sorry, that probably came out wrong. It’s just what I call everyone.” He slapped a hand on Eret’s knee. “Even this chap here.”

Eret copied the gesture. “And our boss.” The two men shared a laugh and Astrid’s eyes flitted back and forth between them, feeling like an outsider to a deeper inside joke. Their laughter subsided and they seemed to remember she was still in the room. “Do you… want to sit?” Eret asked hesitantly, conveying the same uneasiness she felt. She simply cut to the chase.

“We need to talk.”

Fortunately, Timothy understood his cue. “Well, hons,” he announced, drinking the rest of his beer and standing up from the couch, “I guess it’s time for me to hit the road. Gotta beat that Sunday traffic.” He laughed at his own joke when no one else did, not even his hon chap Eret, whose mood had suddenly turned serious.

They said goodbye to Timothy and when the door closed behind him, Eret discarded of the empty beer bottles and they sat in silence on separate ends of the couch for a few minutes. Astrid tried to sort through everything they needed to cover in this conversation, but she didn’t know where to begin, although it was all in a way connected. But what probably made her anxious the most was how to go on from there. She didn’t want to end this day with another fight, didn’t want to lose her closest friend in the aftermath of this whole mess. No more yelling and accusing, that’s what Hiccup had advised.

“So… Timothy, huh,” she made the first step, stilted lighthearted tone sounding absolutely misplaced to her ears.

But Eret gladly jumped onto the first wooden plank. In order to get to the other side of this chasm, they would have to build the bridge together. “Yeah. Tim is…”

“Your coworker,” she finished. “And not your mistress.” She didn’t avert her eyes as she said it, owning up to her mistake.

“Not my… No. But what I told you about Dana is true. She tried to seduce me. Several times, actually, even though I told her I’m married and not interested.” The old monster scratched at her abdomen, but she refused to pay attention to it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked instead, keeping her voice as level as possible, and received the same effort from Eret.

“I tried to, but you wouldn’t hear me out! Besides, I could handle her. It didn’t mean anything to me. And with the way you accused me of cheating, I was glad I hadn’t told you earlier.”

She felt the words like a punch to the gut. “Well, if you had told me earlier, then maybe I wouldn’t have gotten so suspicious when you kept talking about your coworker every other minute of the day like a teenager gushing about his crush!” He winced and averted his face. She’d somehow struck a nerve there, which made her guilt explode from where it was nesting inside her ribcage. Throwing her hands up in the air, she jumped up and released it all with one loud yell. “GAH, I’M SORRY!”

He still wouldn’t look at her. “Okay.”

“What do you mean – okay?!” She started pacing through the room. “I’m hurt you didn’t share the fact with me that someone came onto you several times – which is harassment, by the way – and then I rubbed it in by accusing you of committing to it! I’m fucking sorry, Eret!” She kicked at the couch and a flash of pain shot through her toes. Well, so much for no yelling.

“Yeah.” The couch table was still more interesting than her. “That’s why Tim was here. We were discussing how to report Dana without her claiming harassment and sexism herself.”

Astrid put her hands on her hips, taking stance. “Just say the word and I’m gonna knock her fucking skull in.”

He huffed. “I can handle it.”

“You can han– Eret, I’m not some bozo offering you tips on selling your car! I know I should have let you speak yesterday when you called and I’m sorry I didn’t. I couldn’t handle it. I don’t know if you noticed, but I’ve been running from confrontations for quite a while. And will you please just look at me?!”

Jaw clenched, he finally met her gaze, and for the second time that day, she was met with a look in someone’s eyes she wasn’t expecting. She’d prepared herself for fury, for a stubborn wall of fire, for a loaded canon – but not for hurt, guilt, insecurity. Her anger deflated.

“I know.” He was almost whispering. “I should know. I should know that I can always count on you.”

“You should know?” The implication wasn’t lost on her and it stung like a hundred bees. “Why do you think you can’t count on me?”

“I… I didn’t mean that. I know you’d do anything. It’s just that…” He got on his feet, pulling at his short ponytail, voice rising. “Every time you become distant, and we fight, and you go on your solo trips, it’s like there’s a whole world out there for you that I’m not a part of. Over time, that feeling festers, and it makes me wonder.” He paused, piercing her with a look that demanded only the truth. “There’s someone else, isn’t there.” She blinked, sucker-punched to the lungs, staring back at him, shock evident on her face, judging by his grave nod. “So there is.”

“I…” This was not how she’d imagined this topic to be broached. Her first instinct was to tell him that nothing happened, but as of this afternoon, that would be a lie. “It’s complicated.”

Eret shook his head disappointingly, a gesture that irked her a lot. “Accusing me of cheating and then…”

“I didn’t cheat on you!” He regarded her with poisonous doubt, frown deepening. No more running. “Yes, I have feelings for someone else! But it’s not like I planned so, and it’s not like I didn’t try to fight it, and I certainly didn’t do it on purpose!”

“But still you didn’t talk about it with your husband!”

“Like that’s something you do!” The guilt, the frustration, it all came together in a giant wave, pressing every emotion out of her chest with the volume of a tsunami. “Like you just go to your spouse, the one you promised to love until death, the one you made a fucking huge commitment to for the rest of your life, you just go up to them and say hey, guess what, I’m in love with someone else, what do you think of that, do you want potatoes or rice for dinner?!” She sucked air into her lungs with a sharp, shaky breath, not slowing down, even as her eyes began to sting. “This is not something you do, it’s not something you fucking do, just like that, expecting not to make everything worse, and admitting that the biggest decision I ever made in my entire life led to a big! Fucking! Failure!”

A hot tear ran down her cheek and when she wiped it away, more followed, until she was quietly sobbing, shoulders shaking as she refused to break down completely. She felt raw and exposed, exhausted after her emotional outburst. Eret said nothing for a long minute. Then he sunk back onto the couch and put his head in his hands, fingers raking through his dark hair, messing it up until most of it had escaped the ponytail.

“I need a drink,” she mumbled and walked into the kitchen. Eyeing the bottle of wine on the shelf, she opted for some peppermint tea. Calming, refreshing, and didn’t have to cool in the fridge first. Waiting for the kettle to boil, she took a deep breath. Slowly, the shaking subsided and the tears stopped running. She wiped her hand over her swollen eyes and blew her nose on a paper towel.

When the water boiled, she grabbed her favorite mug from the cupboard and fished the last tea bag from the box. She let it steep for a few minutes, regaining her composure, before she returned to the living room. Leaning against the bookcase opposite to the couch, mindful of the stack of beautifully illustrated books behind her, she carefully took a sip, relishing the feeling of hot tea calming her nerves. Eret was still hunched over, head in his hands.

“I was gushing about my crush,” he finally said, voice low and brittle, laden with the effort of finding the courage to get the words out.

She sniffed, unsure if she’d heard him right. “What?”

“I… have feelings for someone else, too.”

It took her embarrassingly long to connect the dots. “Huh.” She sat down next to him, processing the information. In a strange way, it made sense. She couldn’t explain it, but it just felt… It felt like Eret. And it also explained all the knee touching from earlier. “Oh man,” she sighed. “We’re a mess, huh.”

He tentatively glanced up at her. She noticed the little pools of tears that had formed in his eyes and she realized he’d been as afraid to tell her about his feelings as she’d been, probably even more so. Eret had always been so sure about himself and his place in the world, something that had attracted her to him in the first place. Discovering this new side of himself, the confusion, the fear of people’s reaction, her reaction – she couldn’t exactly say she could relate. Meeting his worried expression, she gave him a reassuring smile and reached for his hand. His sigh of relief cut straight through her heart, and when he accepted her hand and returned her light squeeze, it felt like companionship.

“So… Timothy, huh,” she repeated her earlier line, eliciting a small shaky laugh from Eret. He sat up and leaned back against the cushions, wiping a hand over his face.

“Yeah… He’s great.” He turned to her with an earnest face. “I’m sorry. You’re right, this is a mess.”

“Well, I’m glad we agree on something for once.”

For a while, they just sat there holding hands in companiable silence, feeling closer than they had in a very long time, the only sound an occasional slurping of tea.

“I know I should have asked this sooner,” she finally said, “but do you want to talk about it?”

He seemed to be wrestling with himself for a moment and she tried her best to not feel offended by his hesitation. She wasn’t any better, after all. “I don’t really know what to say. One day I’m a heterosexual fella going to bed with his wife, the next I’m thinking about all the different ways I wanted to touch my new coworker. The rest just spiraled from there.”

“When did that happen?”

“About a year ago,” he confessed, carefully regarding her reaction.

“Okay, so, do you know if Timothy’s into men?”

“Uh yes, very openly so, he carries his cute little rainbow flag everywhere and constantly complains to me about the horrible guys he’s dated.”

“Good, that’s good.” He curiously raised his eyebrows at the scheming look on her face. “Have you talked to him about your sexuality?”

“No, I haven’t told anyone, and how are you so okay with this?”

Now she really did feel offended, putting the empty mug on the couch table with a clank. “Excuse me? My best friend tells me he likes dicks and he asks me if I’m okay with it?!”

“Your best friend is also your husband. And that’s not what I meant. You’re weirdly calm about the fact that I’ve been emotionally cheating on you for months on end.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Sorry, did you not hear me yelling about my feelings for another man back there? You know, right before I burst into tears? We’re in the same boat here, buddy.”

He snorted. “I don’t know if I like this sarcasm on you.”

“It may have rubbed off on me from someone else,” she admitted.

“Right. Your someone else.”

“Hmm…” She bit her lip. “I really am sorry. I thought about telling you, but I never did, because I had this stupid notion in my head that telling you would mean I failed at something. Namely, making the right decision when I married you.”

“That… No, that makes sense. Sounds like Astrid to me.”

“But was I right?” she asked uncertainly. “Does this mean I failed?”

“Well… You said earlier – or better, you yelled – that your decision led to big failure. Do you really think that’s what this is? A big, fucking, failed marriage?”

Now that she heard him say it, she didn’t need to contemplate much. “Yes and no? I don’t regret marrying you. I love you, but not the way I used to. You’re my closest friend and incredibly important to me, and I will always treasure our time together, past and present. But… That is all I can give you.”

An enormous weight disappeared from her chest when she said it out loud and when Eret nodded and agreed, “I feel the same… I think.” He scratched his head. “No, I’m sure that’s what it is. And I’m also one hundred percent sure I was very into you, which makes me at least bisexual, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “Sexuality can be fluid, right? So who knows what nuance of sexuality you are and what you’ll be next week. Anyway, I wouldn’t be mad at you if you decided you’ve always been gay. Would it feel weird to hear you tell me you never actually loved me? Probably. Would I get hung up on it, knowing you cared about me deeply in a platonic way? Fucking hell not.”

Eret grinned in a relieved and almost proud way. “I’m glad you’re my friend, Hofferson.”

“Me too.” She took a deep breath. “So, does that mean…”

“That this is over?” he completed her sentence and gestured between them, an understanding passing between them. “Yes, I would say so.”

Relief washed over her, combined with a bit of sadness, then peace, and not one flicker of doubt. She leaned into her best friend, her soon-to-be ex-husband, and hugged him tightly for a long minute.

When they pulled away, the shadows in the room had grown longer, announcing the imminent departure of the sun. Soon the horizon would light up colorfully, ending the day with a temporary, ever-changing painting that put every self-respecting lava lamp to shame. Realizing how late it already was, Astrid couldn’t believe how much time had passed since she’d had lunch with Hiccup, and how long she’d talked with Eret.

“Full disclosure, though,” she said while getting up to switch on the light, “last week I took a pregnancy test and it was negative.” Eret blinked a couple times. “Turns out it had just been a mixture of too much emotional stress and chocolate cake that made me take it.”

“Chocolate cake,” he repeated a bit dumbfounded, following her as she carried her empty cup into the kitchen.

“Yeah, I tried to bake the perfect cake and the one I ate was way too sweet.”

“The one you– Did you eat an entire chocolate cake by yourself? While your favorite pool was closed?”

“Oh, I’m glad that’s the part you choose to focus on.”

He sat down at the kitchen table and absentmindedly mimed stroking an invisible beard, a habit he’d picked up when he’d grown an absolutely hideous goatee in college. “I don’t know, I’m still processing it. Were you… sad? Okay? I don’t know what to say here.”

“I was glad. You know I want kids one day, but not like this.”

He nodded. “Probably best. Not that I wouldn’t have been happy regardless – wait, was it even mine?”

“The baby that doesn’t exist?” she scowled at him. “Yes, of course it would have been yours, you muttonhead!”

Holding his hands up in surrender, he believed her. “Alright, alright. I don’t know, could have been your secret lover.” Her scowl deepened and he quickly continued. “But you’re right. It’s better this way.”

“Good, glad we agree. Now will you please stop with the non-existent beard? You look ridiculous.”

“Tim thinks it’s funny.”

That brought the scheming look back on her face. “Seems to me like he’s interested in you. Now that you’re single, you should ask him out.”

A nervous chuckle escaped him and he squirmed a little in his seat. “I don’t know. I just agreed on a divorce.”

“That’s not the problem. You’ve wanted to do it for a long time. You’re a chicken.”

“I’m just being considerate of you–“

“Bullshit. You’re a chicken.”

With a groan, he frowned at her. “You’re quite a handful sometimes, do you know that?”

“Chicken,” she sang, finding joy in pushing his buttons without another fight looming on the horizon. She’d missed her friend and she finally had him back.

“Okay, fine! I haven’t had to ask anyone out since you. I don’t know how to flirt anymore.”

She snorted. “Seriously?” Sitting down next to him, she draped one hand behind him over the chair, shuffled closer and placed the other on his knee, regarding him from beneath her eyelashes. “Are you sure about that, hon?” He jokingly pushed her away, tipping her chair a little. “I think you were doing just fine earlier. Just text him that you want to go out for beer and tell him what happened. Then you can pepper in that you want his dick and voilà, you got yourself a hot date.”

“Yeah, yeah. I think I’m just gonna start with the beer.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and began to type before he paused and looked at her in earnest. “I feel good about this. How about you?”

Something told her he wasn’t just talking about asking out his crush. “Yes, absolutely. This feels right.”

With a content nod, he continued typing and hesitated just a second before sending his message. “Phew, done.” Another thought seemed to come to his mind. “Err, by the way, you’re not my dictator.”

“Huh?”

“Yesterday on the phone, I called you a dictator. That’s not true.”

“Yeah, we both said pretty mean things in the past. Things we didn’t actually mean and are sorry for.” Hiccup would be proud of her. She’d stopped running from an important confrontation, she’d talked about her feelings, she’d let Eret speak without accusing him of stuff, and she’d only yelled a little. It felt good. She wanted to tell him. Where was her phone?

“Apology accepted and returned. Great, now that we settled that, you still haven’t told me about the other guy.” He cracked his knuckles, receiving an unimpressed look. “I want to know who will pay part of the divorce.”

She punched his biceps. “He’s not going to pay shit, you cocky bastard.”

Rubbing the now sore spot on his arm, he shrugged and earned himself an eyeroll. “Worth a try.”

Seemed like calling Hiccup had to wait a little. But after waiting for so long to tell him about her feelings for him, what were a few minutes more? It wasn’t like he was going anywhere.

“Okay… Um. Do you remember Dagur’s 30th birthday party?” she started.

Eret chuckled. “Eh, partially. It was a wild night.”

“But do you remember Hiccup?”

He searched his memory for a second. “Heather’s ex? The skinny guy with the jawline?”

“Yes. He was at the party.” Now came the part that was hard to tell the guy that she’d been engaged to back then. “I will not call it fate or destiny or anything at first sight. But… Do you remember when you claimed you could repair the oven by yourself and were almost electrocuted?”

Not sure where this was going, and with the remnants of a hurt ego in his posture, Eret nodded. “Yeah?”

“Well, meeting Hiccup was like that, but without the pain. I felt like I was the current. And the funniest thing is, the moment I saw him, the lightning storm started outside.”

“Oh yeah,” he mumbled. “I remember there being rain.”

Encouraged by his lack of judgement so far, she continued. “I didn’t understand my sudden attraction to him at first, I just knew that it was strong and it only grew stronger over time, even though I only met him a couple times after that. That one time when we were out doing wedding chores, remember?”

After a minute of contemplation, he nodded. “When you bought that book that he painted pictures for and were super excited about it.”

She rolled her eyes. “He didn’t paint pictures for it, he illustrated the cover. And it was absolutely gorgeous!”

“So, he did paint pictures for it.”

“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.”

He shrugged, not understanding what the big deal was. But he waved at her to continue.

“I thought it was just a phase and I didn’t want to bother you with it and dampen your mood. You were so happy and looking forward to our wedding and I didn’t want to ruin that by telling you something that would have been over just a few weeks later, anyway. Only that it wasn’t a phase. And the longer I waited, the worse it got.” Her fingers found a lose thread on the tablecloth and she absentmindedly started playing with it. “I was in denial about it. That was the only way for me to keep my sanity the closer we came to our wedding day. In the end, I decided to go through with the wedding because I didn’t want to just throw away everything we built together.”

“Did…” He gulped. “Did anything ever happen between you back then?”

She shook her head. “No. He came to the party, though. We talked outside for a while and I invited him in, as a friend. But he said we shouldn’t see each other anymore. Looking back, that was probably for the best, no matter how much it hurt, because the moment I saw him again a week ago, it all came back in an instant. Not that it was ever truly gone.”

A spark of understanding flashed up in Eret’s eyes. “Is that why you acted so weird from time to time? Distant, I mean?”

“Yeah, that was part of the reason. I just… I felt like something was missing from my life. That’s why I went on my solo trips. To try and find myself, I guess. It helped in the moment, but not in the long run.”

He looked bashful. “And I thought you were going on vacations with your lover.”

Astrid discovered that being on the other side of such an accusation didn’t hurt any differently than making the accusation herself. “I would never do that! I may have kept important feelings from you, but I would never cheat!”

“Me neither.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

She crossed her arms. “Yes! I only accused you of it because I wanted a reason to escape a relationship that didn’t make me happy anymore. I know I should have just talked to you earlier. We already settled that.”

“Okay.” He nudged her with his foot. “Go on.”

“Like I said, I ran into him last week. I thought I could just be friends with him and push my feelings away, but no.” A little nervous, she left the tablecloth be and twirled strands of hair between her fingers. “I was with him when you called. He showed me his favorite spot in the woods. And… Well, he advised me to talk to you about everything. But I hadn’t even admitted my feelings to myself, so anything beyond that seemed impossible. I lashed out at him as well.” The memory of their fight was still fresh on her mind. It had only happened a day ago, but it felt like weeks had passed since then.

“So, he doesn’t know how you feel.”

“Well… He might have an idea. He certainly knows there’s something between us; he addressed it during our fight yesterday. And… I kind of kissed him today. I didn’t plan on doing it, I just… did it. It wasn’t even a real kiss, our lips barely touched, but– I think it was obvious enough.” At this point, she had pulled out a considerable amount of hair with her fingers, tangling it into a ball. “Then I decided I could no longer go on like that and came here.” Eret was quiet for a while. “What do you say?”

“I say we should have talked way sooner. Would have saved us both a lot of pain. Did you talk to anyone else about this?”

“My mom, but that was still before the wedding. She definitely suspects something now as well, though. And I thought about telling Ruffnut, but she’d have just found a way to include your looks into her arguments and based her opinion on that.”

He chuckled. “Good call. That woman needs to get laid more.” She kicked his shin. “Ow! What was that for?”

“She doesn’t need to get laid like some horny rabbit! She’s just very shallow regarding looks sometimes.”

“Okay, sorry,” he apologized, rubbing his shin. That should be a nice bruise tomorrow. Good. “Does he like you?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “I think so.” A sudden memory flashed through her mind. “I think he even told me once! I ran into him shortly after he and Heather broke up and he said he liked someone else. He said he couldn’t ask her out because she was engaged. Looking back, what are the chances he wasn’t talking about me?” The more she pondered it, the more obvious it seemed. Excited butterflies were dancing through her stomach. No, really, was she remembering this right?

The short sound of a speeding race car came from Eret’s phone, three times in a row, and the little notification light lit up. Eret fumbled for the device. From the look on his face, she could guess who texted him back.

“And?” she asked impatiently.

“He’s in for a beer. Tomorrow after work.”

“Yes!” She held her hand up for a high-five, but Eret was too busy texting Timothy back.

“Now you,” he said when he put his phone down. “I can’t be the only one going on a date right after breaking up with my spouse.”

“Right.” Her heart started pounding as she got up to retrieve her phone from her jacket and leaned against the kitchen counter. She was going to do this. Now.

She had three missed calls. One from her mom, which she ignored. Because the other two were from Hiccup. Understandably, after she basically bolted from his kitchen earlier. There was a voicemail attached. With jet planes flying through her stomach, she pressed her phone to her ear, heart kicking harder against her ribs when she heard his voice.

As she listened to his message, one plane after the other crashed from the sky in a fiery explosion.

Eret looked at her in concern. “Everything alright?”

Her pulse was deafening in her ears, blood rushing through her veins, trying to make her heart beat again. “Fuck.”

[zutaradreams]

1000 Follower Fic

When I reached 1000 followers, I decided to write a story based on one of the prompts for the latest Zutara month. This story features aged up characters, where Zuko is never banished and serves in the navy under Admiral Zhao. Katara and Sokka never find Aang and travel to the North Pole on their own. As requested, this is for Day 9: Shatter. Please enjoy! It will be up on AO3 soon! 

@zutaramonth

The Healing Hut

He says a lot of things as the fever works through him. He curses every time he moves, when he feels the pain surge through his body. He thinks he talks to Mai. He calls for his mother at one point. He imagines his father, but never lets a plea for him leave his lips. 

Through all the murmurs of a fevered man, the first thing he says consciously when he realizes he is not alone is:  “My uncle?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know your uncle.” Then two cool hands massage his temples, and he falls back to sleep.

  He hears a lot too. “I can’t leave. They’ll kill him.”

A man says, “The guards will make sure no one does.”

“The guards want to kill him.”

“They can’t. He’s worth more alive.”

“Not anymore,” the woman’s voice replies, the one the cool hands belong to. “He asked for an uncle.”

“That would be General Iroh.”

He wants to speak up, say “yes, did you find him”, but the air around him is so hot, and he feels like he can’t breathe. 

“Ozai’s brother,” the man adds. 

Ozai. 

The air feels hotter and hotter. He moans in pain. The hands find him. 

“That’s Ozai’s son you’re helping, Katara. And the whole tribe knows it.” 

“And they know this is the man who killed Zhao.”

“Yeah, too late,” the man sneers abhorrently. 

“He’s part of the reason I have my bending back.”

“Yue’s the reason you have your bending back!” he shouts. 

“Look, I couldn’t just let him die out there. Especially not by Zhao’s hand.”

“So you’ll save his life, nurse him back to health, and then what?”

The woman, Katara, gives no answer. She prods at his neck, his shoulders, his chest. He wants to shout at her to stop touching him; it all hurts so much. But then she pulls her hands away, and he realizes he does not hurt as much as he did before. 

“Good, your fever’s going down. Now how are those ribs?” Her hands trail down from his forehead to the center of his body. “Hmm, not as good as I want them to be. This might hurt a little.”

His chest seizes in pain immediately as she attempts to mend the shattered bones. He wishes he could stop her. He wishes he could burn her hands from his body. He wishes she would let him die. 

“There. That’s better,” she says softly, and opens his mouth to bend water down his throat. 

His fever breaks that night.

She’s not expecting to see his hazy eyes staring back at her when she enters the healing hut. It’s easier to heal Prince Zuko when his eyes are closed and he’s lying still. Now that he’s awake, now that his fever’s broken, now that his bones are on the mend, she wonders what to do with him. 

“You,” he says in a deep, raspy voice, deeper from his illness. “You were at the oasis.”

“Yes.” She stood with Sokka and Yue, trying to protect the moon spirit from Zhao and his men. 

“Katara.”

She wonders why he feels the need to call her by name. She’s surprised he even knows it. 

“I should be dead.”

“You should.”

“The force of Zhao’s attack-”

“I was able to heal most of the burned skin with minimal scarring. The force of the blow shattered your ribs. I had to work quickly to stop the internal bleeding. You’ll have to stay in bed longer, though. You still have a lot of healing left.”

“My uncle?” he asks again. 

“I don’t know.” 

As far as she knows, every Fire Nation soldier drowned in La’s revenge...every single one except Zuko. Sokka tells her La spared him because he would have died from his injuries. Katara thinks La spared him out of gratitude, for delivering the fatal blow to the one who harmed Tui. 

“Who would know?”

“I’ll ask around. Let me check on your ribs.”

Her hands are less steady now that golden eyes watch her every move. 

As soon as he can sit, he starts making demands - for a ship, for parchment, for an audience with the Chief. 

“Eat the food I brought you,” she says, rolling her eyes. She’s starting to prefer him unconscious. “The broth is delicious.”

“I need to let my father know I survived.”

“He knows,” she tells him. Chief Arnook sent word to the Fire Nation, hoping to settle on a ransom. “He knows you killed Admiral Zhao. You’ve been labeled a traitor to the Fire Nation.”

He hurls the bowl of soup at her. She bends it right back at him. 

Sokka urges her not to heal him again, and she’s inclined to agree. She holds out for three days before she wonders how his ribs are faring. 

He’s the only patient in this healing hut. He thinks he knows why. He’s a traitor to the land he’s from and a prisoner to the land he’s in. 

“What will your people do with me?” he asks, while she soothes the bruises beneath his scarred skin, evidence that his bones are moving back where they belong. 

“They’re not my people,” she reveals.

There’s nothing more absurd to him, that this young woman with hands cloaked in healing water, would not consider these people of the Northern Water Tribe hers.

 “I’m from the South. I came here with my brother a few years ago to learn waterbending.”

“I didn’t realize the South had any waterbenders left.”

Her hands still. 

“That’s thanks to your people.” 

He doesn’t see her again for five days. His ribs ache. 

“He’s a liability,” Chief Arnook says. 

“Yeah, especially now that you told the Fire Lord we have him,” mentions Sokka critically. The relationship between the two of them suffers irreparably now that Yue can no longer keep the peace between her father and her husband. 

Katara wonders if this means Sokka will consider leaving the North Pole now. Maybe she can convince him to come home, the way she had to convince him to leave all those years ago. But Sokka will never leave, not when he’s Arnook’s heir by marriage, not when he has a son he has to raise alone. 

This may be her time to leave, however. “I can take him back to the South Pole,” she offers. “That way the threat’s away from here. The Fire Nation won’t attack the South Pole. There’s no need when they’ve already taken everything. The North, on the other hand, has too much to lose.”

“Katara-“ her brother begins. He doesn’t want them to be separated. He still stands by some promise he made to their dad that he would always look after her. But she’s grown up now. She’s a master waterbender. And it’s time to go home and wait for new waterbenders to be born. It’s time for her to teach them. 

“My mind’s made up,” she says. 

Prince Zuko will return to the South Pole with her, as a prisoner of the Southern Water Tribe. 

He’ll trade one icy pole for another, it seems. When he hears the news, he wishes she had let him die. 

“When do we leave?”

“As soon as I think you’re able,” she replies. “It will be a long journey. You’ll need your strength. How do you feel today?”

His body feels better, but nothing else. His mind is raging at the thought of spending the rest of his life in that plundered village of ice and snow. He’s seen it before, briefly when he was under Zhao’s command, as they searched for the Avatar. He never wants to see it again. 

She helps support his weight when he begins walking again. His arm hangs around her shoulders, and though he’s working hard to keep the indignance plastered on his face, she can tell by the stride of his steps that he is eager to walk again. 

They take laps around the hut until his breaths grow heavy, and then she helps him back into his bed. He eats his soup without protest. 

A question persists on the tip of her tongue. It’s bothered her for weeks, and now she feels like he’s in a stable enough mood to answer it. “Why did you kill him?”

Zuko had attacked first, as soon as Zhao struck Tui, not the other way around. Zhao’s final blow, while intended fatally, had been in response to Zuko’s wave of fire. Even on the ground, with shattered bones and melted skin, Zuko rained fire down on Zhao until the admiral’s death. 

She would have done it, had her bending not been taken from her. Sokka would have, if he could have gotten close enough without being burned. Zhao expected this from them, the enemy. He clearly didn’t expect it from Zuko. So she wants to know why he did it.

Why did it matter so much to you?

“The sky’s not supposed to be red,” he replies, reminding her of how it felt to have the moon plucked from the sky, how it felt to be without her bending. “He could have destroyed the whole world. Mortals have no business with the spirits. We can’t understand them.” 

“Yeah, but La would have handled him, like he handled the rest. You didn’t have to.” 

“I didn’t know what La was going to do. I just knew what I had to do.”

“What did you think the mission was here?”

“I was told that we were here in case the Northern Water Tribe was harboring the Avatar. I didn’t know Zhao had other plans until we got to the oasis. No one knew. All those soldiers died fighting blindly.”

“They’re all fighting blindly if they think this war is justified,” she returns.

He’s standing in the healing hut when she comes to check on him. He knows not to leave; there are four guards right outside in case the idea ever strikes him. His back is straight, and if he’s in pain, he hides it well. 

Wordlessly, she sheathes her palms in water and presses them to his chest, searching for lingering damage to the bones. There’s barely any left. 

“I hope you don’t get seasick.”

“I don’t.” 

“We leave in a week,” she decides. A week is enough time to work out the details with Sokka, like where to avoid Fire Nation fleets and how much money she’ll be allowed to take with her, and which vessel she’ll be given. Sokka wants her to take a couple guards too, but she’s hesitant to add more stakes to the clandestine transport of the Fire Lord’s son. 

He smirks. “You shouldn’t have healed me before we left.” 

She’s seen what his hands can do. She won’t let that intimidate her. “You shouldn’t try anything. Not when I know exactly where you’re vulnerable.” Her hands can shatter as well as they can mend. He’ll learn that if he wants to survive the journey. 

He could melt the shackles, but he doesn’t desire to have molten metal coating his wrists. This will be his last morning in the healing hut, and his first morning outside in weeks. Two guards grab him by each arm and force him forward, not that they need to. He has no qualms walking out on his own. He wants to leave this land as much as they want him to. 

For a quick second, he pauses right outside the entrance of the hut, as soon as he feels the sun on his face. 

He looks up to the sky. It isn’t red. It’s blue. He’s a traitor and a prisoner. But the sky is blue.

[aureumjeon]

while you’re at it (m) || pjm

pairing; poolboy!jimin x noona!reader.

genre; smut, fluff, tiny angst.

summary; After finalizing your divorce papers, there was still one thing that had to be taken care of. That stupid swimming pool. Over there course of a few days, you ended up harboring feelings for one of your pool boys. Will things go as planned? Or will everything be flushed down the drain? 

warnings; brief mentions of divorce, infidelity and toxic relationship, sub!jimin, dom!reader, barely there bondage, exhibitionism, female masturbation, voyeurism, oral sex (both receiving), body worship, tit fucking, noona kink, praise kink(its jimin ofc), mild degradation, impreg kink, its basically jimin being a whiny soft baby for noona, unprotected sex, multiple orgasm, creampies, cum eating

word count;  11K+ (this was supposed to be around 7-8K only, iduno what happened really)

a/n; ahhhhhh! three minutes late but who careeees. im done, i want to sleep. the smut feels so rushed butill fix it... eventually... lmao, unedited as hell, dont mind the errors... will fix someday.  bye

@m0chilattae @ruinedbyjin <33 

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Breaking away and cutting ties from your previous and definitely toxic marriage was the best decision you've made bar none. You could no longer stomach the abuse that your now ex-husband had put you through. It was a complete and utter living hell being bound to a man who wasn't who you initially thought he was. Having him crossed out of your life (legally, too) made it a million times easier. It has been exactly seven weeks since you chucked out all of his belongings through the front door. No regrets. And you still didn't want to take notice of the huge elephant in the room — or in the backyard per se. There it sat in the middle of the unkempt grassy area surrounded by leaves and trash, in all of its filthy, disgusting, bacteria and algae infested glory. Your dreaded swimming pool.

You had put-off cleaning it the first week after your separation, saying you're too busy doing this or too preoccupied taking care of that. When in all honesty, you just didn't want to deal with it. You had no goddamn idea how to maintain it. Heck, you didn't even know how to swim. Wonwoo was the main reason why the two of you bought a house that came with it after your wedding. He said he wanted to keep his hobby of swimming alive, understandable since that's where it all began. The two of you met at a university swim meet. You were the designated journalist for that event, assigned to interview all the winners after the competition for the school's paper. Wonwoo bagged the gold medal for the two hundred-meter freestyle, and you interviewed interviewed him and that's where it took off. Everything was running smoothly. One by one every item on your life's checklist got checked-off. After five years of dating, he proposed. A year later you got married and purchased a house together and planned on having children. You even put-off your job as a columnist writer for a high-end magazine company to play out the role of a perfect wife who'd soon take care of her children. You had the ideal life with the ideal husband in an ideal house that any married woman could wish for. You had everything, and in your own little world it was perfect. Until two years into your marriage, everything went into turmoil. Wonwoo suddenly grew cold and insensitive. He didn't answer your calls and text messages whenever he was away. He didn't make love to you the way he used to during your honeymoon phase. And sometimes he would just downright refuse, saying he's too tired and that he wants to sleep instead. You endured and tolerated his behavior for another year, giving him a chance to change his ways. But we all know what happens to second chances, they're wasted. One day, Jihyo sent you a picture of Wonwoo sucking faces with a female swim trainer at the city's public pool. You could not believe it at first, you refused to. Until she sent another image, this one clear as day. It was Wonwoo, positively Wonwoo. You called your older brother Yoongi and told him everything that had happened starting from the day your relationship spiraled into disaster. Like any brother would be; he was furious. He didn't kill the guy though, only gave him a black eye and a broken nose before you threw his belongings out on the pavement. To cut the story short, you found love beside a swimming pool and ultimately gotten your heart broken because of it. When people fall out of love, heart breaks are inevitable. All the more reason as to why you just shoved the idea of cleaning the pool under the rug like small particles of dust and dirt. You just wanted to forget about it, pretend like it didn't exist. If you could only haul that thing out of the ground and throw it out like you did to him, it'd be more painless for you. You took your phone out of your handbag and texted Namjoon. You asked if he still had the number to that all around cleaning service, to which he did, thank god. After saving the number, you called it immediately. Wanting no time to be wasted. "Hello, Good morning! This is Mr. Park of Mr. Park's Cleaning Service, how can we help you?" The bubbly old man chanted his spiel. "Ah, yes, um. This is Y/n Y/l/n, I was wondering if I can avail your services?" "Of course, ma'am!" He chimed, the sound of rustling papers can be heard in the background "What will we have the pleasure of cleaning for you, Ms. Y/l/n?" His tone never changed, still enthusiastic. "Well I have this pool..." You replied quite hesitantly, "And It's been sitting here uncleaned for almost two months." You let out a breathy laugh, fairly embarrassed at your confession. "No problem, Ms. Y/l/n! We've handled worse cases. Two months is nothing! Is it just the pool or would you like us to give your whole yard a fixer-upper?" You sighed in relief. "Y-yes, that would be great! My backyard could use the help, too." "Alrighty then! You don't need to worry about anything! Can I get your contact number and full address Ms. Y/l/n?" Mr. Park sounded like a charming old man, he never judged or asked unnecessary questions, only the ones that needed to be answered. "My number's xxx-xxx-xx and my full address is xxx street, corner xxx at xxx village. When can I expect you to visit, Mr. Park?" "I'll get the boys ready and will be there in about an hour or two to check on the conditions and come up with the most effective strategy. The duration of the process usually takes about three days to a week depending on the situation. It's always better to asses the area first. We'll do the best we can do, Ms. Y/l/n!" You can hear the smile in his voice, never have you encountered someone who's this passionate about his job as much as Mr. Park. "Great! That sounds excellent! Thank you so much Mr. Park! I'll see you later!" "Thank you, too, Ms. Y/l/n! Good bye!" The call ended and you checked the clock. It was a quarter to nine, still a lot of time left before they arrive. You decided to tidy up the place, picking up dirty laundry, washing the dishes, and anything that demanded to be put in its proper place. You accomplished everything in under an hour and decided to lounge around on your couch, still in your black silk nightwear dress that rested a good five inches above your knee. To be fair, you did wake up too early for your liking, and it made you thrice as sluggish than usual. 'Only ten minutes' you reminded yourself because you still needed to shower. Your eyelids felt heavy and the softness of the pillow you were resting your head on didn't help either. 'five more minutes, then it's time to shower, I swear.' Things didn't always go according to plan, of course. You fell asleep.

++

Your little nap was interrupted by the sound of your doorbell ringing multiple times, "Ms. Y/l/n?! Is anybody home? This is Mr.Park's Cleaning Service." The man on the other side of the door yelled. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. You scramble about you couch only to fall on the floor with a loud thud, "W-wait! Just a minute!" You squealed, heading out to the nearest bathroom to grab your bathrobe and wrap it around your frame. You chugged down and gargled a cup full of mouthwash before spitting it out. "Shit..." You hissed, taming out the fly-aways of your hair and tying it up in a loose bun. Your bangs rested messily on your forehead but you didn't have the pleasure of curling it. So you opted for just sweeping it to the side, making yourself more presentable. "I'm coming!" You yelped, treading to your front door and opening it. The three boys who stood at your doorstep gave you a courteous ninety degree bow. They were wearing those baggy grey work jumpsuits but the sleeveless kind. The boys looked fairly young, with glowing skin and youthful dispositions. They moved back to their upright position and the one in the center greeted, "Good day Ms.---" his eyes widened like saucers, he looked like he had encountered a ghost, and suddenly you were extremely conscious about your disheveled appearance, tucking in stray hairs that dangled around the frame of your face behind your ears. "Ms--" he knew what he wanted to say, it was waiting for its turn to spill out from his suddenly parched mouth. But he couldn't because he was too awe struck at the image of this lovely woman standing before him. They'd done this job a couple hundred times and it was all professional, but this was the first time his heart was completely enamored by a female client. His tongue was undoubtedly caught at the back of his throat and an elbow to his rib by his friend snapped him out of it and transferred him back to reality. "Y/l/n.." He continued, shades of pink trickling his face. "My name is Park Jimin..." "You're Mr. Park?" You giggled, the way your cheeks rounded when you smile matched with your cute dimple almost sent him into the ER due to a cardiac arrest, "You sounded older on the phone." "Uh.. That was my father. I'm just Jimin." He smiled, flustered like a little boy confessing his love for his crush. You beamed at him once more after discovering his name, eyes twinkling more that ever and he caught that. He freaking caught the way your eyes glimmered at him. "If you're just Jimin, then I'm just Y/n." What the hell was that?! You internally screamed at your choice of words, pulling out the non-existent life plug in your head because you wanted to shrivel up like a dehydrated grape desiring to be a raisin and just die. "O-okay, Ms. Y/n.." the way your name rolled so sweetly out of his lips made you shudder, a feeling you hadn't felt in a long, long time spark a flame in the deepest pit of your stomach. You shouldn't be experiencing this urgent sense of infatuation towards a person you only just met, not to mention to someone this young. You reckoned that he was likely five or six years your junior, probably even more. It was a weird sensation. You had no idea where it came from but you were kinda skeptical about the concept of it and where it might lead. Did you hate it? I mean, no, not at all. Were you confused? Most definitely. "This is Jungkook," he gestured to the lad on his left. Jet-black hair, doe eyes, piercings and tattoos, okaaay he's attractive "and this is Taehyung." Your gaze moved to the left, honey brown hair, sultry stare, sharp nose and a chiseled jaw, woah he's attractive too. No wonder Mr. Park's acquiring all the deals in town! His cleaning team is total eye candy. "My dad-- I mean Mr. Park's rheumatoid started acting up a little while ago, that's why he wasn't able to come with us. I hope that's alright with you, Ms. Y/n." There it is again, he said your name again but his voice a little softer this time. He was hoping his father's absence wouldn’t upset you too much. And didn't leave a bad first impression on you. Your name slipping past his lips sent another shock wave throughout your body, faintly stirring up your insides. It took you a good second to reply because you were too busy staring at the way his tongue prodded out of mouth to wet his pink and plump lips. Shit “I-it’s fine..” You gulped, drifting your gaze to your backyard assuming he didn’t see what you just did. “I hope your father feels well soon.” You stepped back a few feet letting the boys with their big tool kits in hand enter. “May we look at the pool, Ms. Y/l/n?” The black haired boy spoke, opening his box of tools and pulling out a smaller black container. “Taehyung and I will do the water testing and everything else while Jimin-hyung here will walk you through the whole process.” “The sooner we start, the sooner we’ll finish!” Taehyung beamed, boxy smile and all. They all did what they said they’d do. Jungkook and Taehyung were handling all sorts of gadgets and gizmo to test the pH balance, chlorine levels and whatever they need to test. Jimin explained everything in meticulous detail, from the tools that they were using to how they’d clean it. You tried listening intently. You really did! But the addictive saccharine tone of his voice had gotten you too worked up. “And that’s about it,” Jimin happily concluded. “We can start cleaning tomorrow if it’s okay with you,” “Y/n?” He asked reluctantly, watching you stare vacuously at him. “Ah-- Yes. You guys can start tomorrow.” You smiled, flustered and red on the face. He was worried for a moment, he thought you found everything he said was boring. Because all honestly, he knew it was. Jimin dropped out of college to support his father with their family business, being the sole son and successor. It was a gamble, most of his friends would say. "Why'd you give up having an education?" or "What if it goes bankrupt?". Those words were frequently thrown around, but he stuck to his gut. Jimin never wanted anything more than maintaining his father's legacy alive. The one that his father and late-mother created and grew from the ground up. "Great! Kook, Tae, how's everything going?" He hollered to his friends who were still tinkering with their devices at the edge of the pool. "Will be done soon! Give us a minute," Taehyung replied, signaling a thumbs-up to his hyung. "Ahhh! That reminds me," You teetered blithely straight to your equally neglected shed that Wonwoo kept all his tools in. "If you need any tools, feel free to--" You tried to pry the door handle open but it wouldn't budge. "Let me get that for you, Ms. Y/n." Jimin insisted, worrying you might hurt yourself. "I'm okay," You assured the boy, solidifying your grip on the handle, and giving one last firm pull that just might do the trick. Jimin was right. Because the moment you exerted more effort into opening the door, the slim strip of metal that was affixed on the wooden surface snapped off and sent you stumbling back a few steps. You shielded your eyes with your hand and just when you thought your sorry ass was about to hit the grass, you felt something or someone, cradle your fall. A small groan from behind startled you, "W-what?" You removed your hands from your face and saw Jimin lying beneath you, hold on to you by your waist."Oh shit!" You shrieked, promptly scooting away from his lap to check if he's hurt somewhere. "J-jimin! Are you okay?!" concern laced your voice. You scanned every inch of his body for any cuts or bruises. While your face unintentionally came too close to his, he felt your warm minty breath dancing on the tip of his cupid's bow, tickling his lips that were mere centimeters away from yours. And the way his left cheek was conveniently purchased in your hand made him feel the heat blossom under his skin, and presumably creep up to his ears too. Wide-eyed and totally red in the face, Jimin hurriedly stood up from where he was planted, not forgetting to help you as well stand up as well. “I’m fine, Ms. Y/n. You don’t have to worry about--” Before the boy could barely finish his sentence, you were already pulling him by the wrist and ushering him back inside the house. He was trying so hard to resist the blush that had been wanting to be set free. “Jungkook, Taehyung!” You waved, calling out their attention. “You can come inside if you’re finished. I’ll tend to Jimin and see if he has any injuries.” “Yes ma’am!” The two boys chuckled, giving Jimin a playful smirk. “Sit down. I’ll go get my first aid kit.” You spoke before scooting towards the direction of your bathroom. The moment you’ve found yourself looking in the mirror in what seems to be the safest place you could’ve been at this moment, you allow all the accumulated steam out. “F-fuck.” You breathe out a sigh of relief. Finally being able to inhale and exhale enough air with your lungs. Every single moment with Jimin feels like there’s something constricting your chest, blocking all possible airways and cutting off the oxygen in your body. “Get it together, Y/n” You scold yourself, looking at the reflection in the bathroom mirror “You are an adult. An adult who will not let a young man fracture the little sanity you have left.” 

On your tiptoes, you reached for the small plastic box on the shelf of your bathroom, taking one last determined look in the mirror and declaring, “You got this.”  With that, you step out of the enclosed space with your recovered confidence, not looking back. And there he is again, puppy dog eyes lighting up when he saw your figure reappear in his line of vision. “Ms. Y/n.” He smiled, and there you knew how truly fucked up you were. “God, give please give me the strength.”  You chanted in your head, “I got the first aid kit. Let’s get you cleaned up.” Was all that you could say. 

++

It has been exactly five days, eight hours and forty-five minutes since Jimin started working on your backyard. Why do you know that? Well, that boy with those galaxies induced eyes, impossible plump lips and unbelievable muscular body had been lurking and finding his way through the deep recesses of your mind, desperately searching for that imaginary finish line.

Every cell in your body was hyper-aware of your surroundings whenever he was near. You’d get chills when you feel his hot breath fanning against the skin of your nape when he’s behind you asking for some kind of permission. A jolt would run down your spine when he says your name like it’s the only name he’d known besides his. And the way an innocent stare from him would ignite a flame in your core, burning like coal inside a furnace during those cold winter nights. You know of his presence; you know how he makes you feel even when you don’t want it and that scares you.

And now you’re here with your overly eager friend who's  ready to lay down all her life savings and then some, just to see you finally get laid after that hideous tragedy.

“Gosh, what do I do?” You groaned, massaging your temples. The headache that you experienced the first time you encountered the boy only tripled in magnitude. It was like the soft tissues of your brain decided that it would be best to act like tectonic plates and tear each other apart. No matter how many pain killers you’ve ingested or how early you slept at night, it always comes back the next day, with a vengeance.

“Give in,” she shrugged, taking a sip from her warm cup of tea. “you’ve got nothing to lose.”

“The only thing I’m losing right now is my sanity.” You grovelled, wanting to pull out all of your hair from its follicles. “I–” You sighed, voice cracking and tear attempting to fall.“I honestly don’t know what to do.”

She offered you a sympathetic look, consoling you with a hand gently stroking your back. “I know, hun. Wonwoo was a douche bag and your divorce was the absolute worst. But… Look at the bright side,” She nudged you on the shoulder and points a finger westward.

“Now that he’s out of the picture, you’re a free woman now, y/n.” Your friend stated as-a-matter-of-fact, wriggling her perfectly done brows at you. She was right, though. There was nothing holding you back except yourself. The two of you looked beyond the glass sliding doors of your patio and watched the group of young men pull every bone and flex every inch of muscles in their bodies trying to make your backyard look like the way it was before.

“I don’t see anything wrong with flirting with your pool boy now that the ring on you finger is gone,” a small tug of her lips went unseen by you as your gaze was still attached to the blond haired boy whose dusting of sweat seemed to reflect and shimmer under the blazing sunlight like those vampire characters from that teen movie. God, how can someone look that ethereal while raking up the pile leaves in your backyard?

“While you’re at it, seeing that you’re too invested in watching him, play with piles of dead leaves,” your head snapped toward her direction as your cheeks turned pink from embarrassment, “might as well fuck him too.” she grins from ear to ear. 

++

Day eight came faster than you had imagined. The boiling of your insides has simmered down immensely since you've accepted all your feelings like the grown adult that you are. You didn't confess, though, there will be a time for that. Also, you can say you've gotten used to Jimin's presence in the short time you've spent with him. He was kind, sweet, caring and considerate to you 24/7 and you've considered every bit of it endearing. You friend was right. "Give in," she says, so you did and you hope everything will eventually fall into place at the right time. Like usual, jimin and his bunch were outside. They were eighty percent done with the pool and all that's left was the landscaping. One by one, bags of dirt, rocks, sand and all the likes were carried by unfamiliar faces to the back yard through your house. Trails of sand were left on the floor akin to a snail's. "We're really sorry for the mess, miss y/n. Don't worry, we'll clean it up." A new face stood beside Jimin. This one looked more mature than the three boys you're already acquainted with. This was your first time seeing him. Raven hair, brown eyes, a attractive face and shoulders broader than the horizon. Wow. Mr. Park's boys just keep getting hotter and hotter. But there's something oddly familiar about him. Maybe you've met him before? Casually crossed paths as strangers? You can't quite wrap a finger around it. "Y/n, this is Jin-hyung." The fair-haired boy stated. "He's Jungkook's older brother." You gasp, finally it connects "R-really?! No wonder you looked familiar!" You heard the boisterous laugh of the younger brother draw closer and then draped an arm around his brother's shoulder. You habitually thought Jungkook was the tallest in the bunch but now that you've seen his older brother and the way he stands a good two or three inches taller says otherwise. "Sooo, who's more good looking, Noona?" Jungkook asked cheerfully, arching his brows as if coaxing you to choose him. "Hmmm..." You hummed dramatically, crossing your arms with one hand cupping your chin. "I really can't say, Jungkook. Your hyung's pretty handsome." You teased. "Nooooona~!" The youngest whined, flailing his arms around like a child. If you hadn't known their ages, you'd assume that Jungkook's an eighteen year old boy with a baby's face attached to an adult man's body. +Flashback+ You learned that over the course of yesterday's dinner. That day marked the seventh day since the boys worked on you backyard. You decided to treat them to a special samgyupsal dinner since they had been working so hard all day and all afternoon. It was a quarter to five, and the boys were about to call it a day when you call them over enthusiastically. Gesturing them to come inside "Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook!" Their mouths hung wide open when their eyes met with the dining table. A dazzling array of meats, soups, vegetables and side dishes were gloriously scattered on the surface. "Wow, Ms. Y/n!" Taehyung beamed, his boxy smile seemed like it was engraved on his face. "What's the occasion?” "Well, since you boys have been working so hard I decided to arrange a little party for you guys. It's the least I can do." You smile. Taehyung and Jungkook looked like they were about to combust. The fragrance of the food delighted their every senses. You hear a faint growl in the background. "Sorry. That was me." Jungkook confessed, his stomach was now hungrier than before. You all laugh. "What are you waiting for? Dig in!" It was like a gun was shot and the race to eat the most food began. You watched them eat heartily, wishing that you had done this sooner to express your gratitude for all the effort the exert. "Aren't you gonna eat, y/n?" You were startled by Jimin voice. You turn to him and receive the look of concern on his face. "I've had my fair share while cooking, if I eat more I feel like I'll throw up." You softly giggled, a shade of pink dusting your cheeks. "And this is all for you." For every little thing he does whether it was deliberately or not, Jimin feels like he's simply digging his own grave. The sound of metal rutting against soil, just a few more digs and he's sure he'll be six feet under. "Ms. Y/n, Ms. Y/n!" Jungkook called, outstretching his hand like a student asking for his teacher's attention. "Yes, Jungkook? Oh, and you can call me y/n, by the way. No need for 'miss'." Jungkook scratched the back of his neck before answering, "Uhm, I dont think I'm in the position to call you that, ms. Y/n " "What about noona?" Taehyung who sits across Jungkook suggested. "Ms. Y/n really been nice to us, like a big sister. Always making sure we're okay." Sister. You practically forgot about your age gap with these kids. With the five-year difference for Jimin and Taehyung, seven for Jungkook, you really felt like an older sister. It wasn't bad, it was lovely actually. Knowing they see you more than just an ordinary client pinched at your heart. And you perceive them as little brother's you never had. One of them, you wished went beyond that. "Yeah!" The black haired boy exclaimed,"Can we call you noona, ms. y/n???" Jungkook looked like a dog, with his eyes all round and tail raised and wagging about. It must feel so great to be young. "Of-- Of course! You can call me noona!" The two boys cheered in unison. The only one quiet was jimin who sat parallel to you. 

"Are you okay jimin?" You asked meekly. "I'm fine." He didn't sound like he was fine. "Is there something wrong?" "Ahh, I--" he was stuttering, "Is it okay if I call you y/n instead?" Your eyes widened, you haven't even drank anything alcohol but your face already feels hotter. "S-sure, Jimin." You tried to change the topic by standing up walking over to the refrigerator. "Since all of you are of legal age." You gradually push open metal door and pull out bottles of soju. "You're the best, noona!" The youngest howled, eager to get his hands on the alcoholic drink. "Just promise me you guys won't drink too much. You still have work tomorrow" Like twins, Jungkook and Taehyung held their hands over their heart and recited, "We promise, noona!" With the magic liquid, conversation started flowing more naturally. You promised not to drink but they insisted, nothing worse than your friends peer-pressuring you. "So, noona, where do you work?" Taehyung questioned. He probably noticed you were always at home. "I'm a writer for Seoul Life Magazine, but I do all my work here at home. I rarely have to go to the office." "Really???!!!" His eyes blew up, Taehyung told you he was a fashion design graduate. You expected this reaction from him so you felt pride in telling him where you work. "Wow, noona!" Jungkook said, "My dad said only those who were absolutely good got to work there." "Stop flattering me," You shyly dismiss his praise. "I was an intern there during my concluding year of college. I worked for about three or four years before I got married." Taehyung did a spit take, spraying water all over poor Jungkook who almost choked on a lettuce leaf. Jimin just sat there, watching you laugh at the two comical boys. He didn't know how to react, his hands suddenly went clammy and he couldn't stop shaking his leg under the table. "M-married?" Jungkook said, still not believing what he's hearing "w-where the h-husband?" He felt out of breath due to that damn piece of leaf. "Are you really married, noona?" Taehyung poked, looking at your ringless finger. "I was," Your smile grew weaker, talking about something it always felt weighty. But they deserved to know, they're helping you heal by dealing with something you'd rather not face. "We got divorced." The room went silent. The sound of the crickets outside and leaves swaying with the wind that were previous white noise behind your chattering and laughter seemed like the were obscenely amplified by huge bass speakers. "Can I ask why, noo--" "Jungkook!" Jimin scolded his junior, and this was the first time you've heard/seen him raise his voice to anyone. "Apologize." He stated sternly, not breaking eye contact with Jungkook. "I'm sorry, noona." His head hung low, hair covering his eyes. "J-jimin, I'm sure Jungkook didn't meant to." You reached out to to hold his hand that was resting on the table. "I'm not mad or upset." You looked over Jungkook's direction and continued, "It's okay, I promise." Jimin squeezed your hand tighter, comforting you. "You don't have to talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable, y/n." "Y-yeah, noona." Taehyung added, "You don't have to. It's none of our business." Jungkook sat still, eyes glassy and mouth pouty. He absolutely looked like a puppy that had been punished for chewing up its human's shoe. "It's alright," You giggle, extremely touched. "It's been months, I can talk about it." "We met during sophomore year. I was a journalist for the university paper and he was on the swim team." The three boys listened intently, like toddlers during story time. "After five years of dating, he proposed. We got married a year later and moved in here. That," you pointed to the pool outside "belongs to him." "It was his idea to get a house with one, I agreed of course. Only two years after getting married, I found out he was cheating on me." Jimin's features softened at your words. He knows it wasn't easy for anyone to talk about their past heartbreak and traumas. He made sure you weren't alone, he took his free hand and placed it over your hand that he was already holding with the other. He held it tight. "It broke my heart, I really thought he was the one, you know? Almost eight years together thrown in the garbage disposal and shredded to pieces." "He doesn't deserve you, noona." Jungkook finally spoke. "He was an asshole and he doesnt deserve you." "Yeah!" Taehyung agreed, "I kinda don't want to finish the work now." Out of nowhere, you burst out laughing. An invisible weight, sort of a thick blanket was lifted and the atmosphere brightened. "No, no, no!" You can't stop your laughter at this point, what Taehyung said tickled a funny bone. "I still plan on living here, Taehyung! Even if I dislike the pool, it's still part of this home. And the make over was sort of a therapy, you know. Out with the old, in with the new, right?" You ended it with a smile, lips curved beautifully. It was a smile Jimin has seen never seen before. It was light and airy, bright and transparent. There was no pain or distress, just carefreeness. He wished you would smile like this more often, and he also wished he'd someday be the reason for it.

++

"Just kidding, Jungkook! You're the most handsome." You assured the boy, patting his back. "Sorry, Jin. Your brother's grown on me." "Kook one, Jin zero." The youngest boast over to his brother. "Alright, alright!" Jin interrupted, "Unlike you, some of us need to work. How 'bout you and Taehyung get the transport van back to the office and let Jimin, Hoseok, Yugyeom and I get things done, yeah?" Jungkook clicked his tongue, "Whatever." Their sibling banter has got you missing your brother, mentally reminding yourself to call him later. "Hey, Yugs." You hear Jungkook faintly speak. Two more new faces stood beside Jin. "This is Hoseok and Yugyeom. We'll be responsible for landscaping." Another attractive guy with a million-dollar smile on his face and a tall man with the physique of a runway model. Curse, Mr. Park!! Where does he get all these boys?! "Thank you for having us!" The pair recited. "Oh, no! Thank you for helping out with the renovation." "Ms. Y/n, The boys and I will be outside. We'll be mapping out a plan for the design," Jin announced. "Oh, sure." You answer back, "Take all the time that you need." "Great! We'll report to you once we've finished the draft design. So you can the necessary make changes and adjustments." He beamed, walking towards the back yard. Jimin stood silently beside you, "You do landscaping?" You randomly asked, seeing that Jimin was the only one left from their bunch. Jungkook and Taehyung had long gone. "No," he chuckled, "I just need to watch over these guys. Make sure everything goes well." "That's nice, you're very involved with the work you do." His cheeks blossomed pink, he didn't expect a compliment since he was just doing his job. "I try." He shyly replied, bowing then heading for the glass door. "If you need me, I'll be outside." You waved him goodbye and went about your own business. There were still some articles in your workload that needed to be finished and those emails weren't gonna answer themselves. ++ By the time you were done, it was half past two in the afternoon. You noticed as the days progressed, so did the temperature. You check your phone, only to see that today is the hottest reading yet. Since everything has been taken care of, you decided to take a shower. Appreciating the cold refreshing water on you warm skin. After that, you put on your favorite robe and wrapped it around your damp body. As you were about to step out of the bathroom, you noticed Jimin leaning against one of the pillars of your patio, shirtless. Have your eyes been deceived? They say that seeing believes, but you didn't expect Jimin to be this fit. You offered yourself some slack, since the only part of Jimin body's you've oh so graciously seen are his muscular arms. It wasn't as big as those of a body builder, but the amount of muscle in them has already got you mouth watering. But being blessed with the site of his bare skin and taut abdominal muscles has got you feeling wetter than being in the shower. You couldn't keep your gaze off of him. It was an image that you want to engrave at the back of your head. Your eyes roamed his entire body. Face, neck, shoulders, chest and abs. You wanted to memorize every detail. Every mole, every freckle, every scar that adorned his ivory skin. Just as you were taking your time scanning his entire figure, you were startled when you saw him looking at you staring at him. Your heart began to race inside your chest and you almost forgot you were standing in the middle of your house with only a robe covering your very naked body. You scanned around the area of the yard and Jin and the others we're not in plain sight. You assumed they were working on the farthest side of the lot, where your small garden used to be before you abandoned it all together with the pool. You lock eyes with Jimin again, but this time there was something odd at the way he ogles at you. His gaze was lustful and burning with flames devouring your entirety. His were pupils blown out at the display of your skin. He looked pained, his teeth biting harshly at his bottom lip as if he wanted to draw blood. At that point it dawned on you. You know why he seemed so agitated, squirming in his seat. He wanted to see more, see more of you. A wave of unknown confidence washed over you. You didn't know where the hell it came from. Maybe it was from his deadly stare, maybe it was just you. Either way, you were so totally taking advantage of it. Without breaking eye contact, you found purchase at the same seat from which you watched the boys worked while having a chat with your friend. Sensually lifting the hem of your robe up your thighs and spreading your legs open for Jimin to see. "F-fuck," He groaned, hands balling into fists. He glimpsed over to the other men who were still occupied with what they were accomplishing. His attention was back on you, giving you a small nod. The fervor that coursed through your body was incomparable to anything you've experienced before. The Adrenaline was starting to kick in, and you felt hot-blooded. You temperature went up ten degrees higher and you felt delirious. You knew there was a possibility that you were gonna get caught, but screw it. You've never felt like this in your whole twenty-nine year of life. You're gonna enjoy it, basked in it. Jimin's eyes were plastered at your dripping core, lump in his throat and completely mesmerized at its beauty. Your juices sinfully coating you slit. He swore if there wasn't anybody else around, he would have ravished you pussy like an animal. Since you're out here giving him a show that he'll never forget, might as well savour it. He thought things couldn't get any better with you sex on display for him, you open up your legs even more in a whole new different angle. Putting all those gymnastics training to good use. He can virtually see your pink walls with the position your in. He couldn't stop imagining him burying his hard cock inside your tight cunt. Sucking him in when every thrust he made. You left hand slithered its way down to your soaked core, playfully stroking your folds. If Jimin was beside you, he could no doubt hear the way your cream coated skin squelched with every motion you made. Your idle hand managed to loosen the knot of your robe, allowing it fall from your shoulders exposing your round, supple breasts. Nipples instantly hardening at the sudden exposure to the air. Shit, he'd kill just to have his lips around those perky little nipples, sucking on then voraciously until you moan out his name. You could not take all this self-teasing anymore. Jimin's eyes gauges out of its socket as you dip a finger into your damp hole. Jimin thought the heat from the sun was bearable. He'd worked for long hours under it and never complain. But this, you fingering yourself with one hand while the other pulls and twists on your abused nipple was unbearable! The ache between his legs was excruciating he had to casually palm himself. Slightly shifting and bending this leg so that he wasn't noticeable. Another finger goes in, and he's cupping himself harder. He observed your face contort with pleasure at the way you're plunging and curling your two fingers inside of you. Your arousal spilling at the edge of you battered hole, streaming down and accumulating just above your puckered hole. That should be him, he mumbled to himself. Your slender fingers wouldn't be able to satisfy you, unlike his throbbing cock caged inside his boxers, wanting to be set free. Jimin's practically squeezing his dick at this point now, he just wants nothing but to release his ropes cum on you breast while you pleasure yourself. You felt your walls clench around your digits, signalling you that you were nearing climax. You gotta make this quick, Jin, Hoseok or Yugyeom can walk in on you anytime. Adding one last finger, hoping the stretch will help you jump over the edge, you pummeled your cunt with all the strength that you had left. A small moan left your lips and your release came squirting. Coating the marble floor beneath you. Jimim was just as wrecked as you were. His chest was heaving heavily up and down. The only difference was you reached climax, and he didn't, he couldn't. You were steadying you breathing just when you hear Jin yell, "Yo! Jimin! I need you to--" his voice was getting louder and closer. Wide-eyed, you look at Jimin. Mouthing him "Do something!" While you pull yourself together and grab a piece of tissue to wipe your juices off the floor. When you looked up, Jimim wasn't there anymore. He somehow managed to stop Jin from coming any closer to the house from how faintly you hear his voice outside. You sighed and went back to your room. “We’ve done everything we could do today, Ms. Y/n,” Jin happily announces, standing in front of you with his million dollar smile adorning his equally valued face. “We’ll continue everything tomorrow!” “G-great!’ You croaked, substantially tilting your head to see what’s going on behind the tall man’s back. Hoping to catch a glimpse of Jimin. “Ms. Y/n?” he waved his hand in your face, snapping you out of it. “Are you okay?” “Yeah.” You barely reply. Before he could turn his back on you, you managed to pull on his sleeve. “W-where’s Jimin by the way?” He looked surprised, pondering why you’re asking for the boy. “He went back first,” Jin witnessed your facial expression drop, “He said he wasn’t feeling too good.” “O-oh,” you frowned once more, your browns knitting together at the center of your forehead. “Please tell him to get well soon.” “Of course,” He bowed and bid farewell.

++

Tomorrow comes and Jimin was nowhere to be seen. Jin said Jimin was still feeling under the weather and took the whole day off from work. While that may seem plausible, it didn’t sit well in your gut. You felt like there was something off with Jimin. Never has he been absent since the first day he worked for you. What is that little stunt you pulled off yesterday, you thought to yourself. Were you really that repulsive to the point that it had gotten him sick? Did you ruin your chances of having something more than just a short time fling with the most charming boy you’ve ever met? What if he never wanted to see you anymore, what would you do then. Those kinds of thoughts were inevitable, of course. It was all you could think of the entire day. So that night, you decided to send him a text message, the first one too. From you: Hi Jimin. Jin told me that you fell ill. Try not to over work yourself next time. I hope you get well soon. -yn Jimin stared stupidly at the screen. Thinking of what to reply or if he should reply at all. Several words typed then deleted. He genuinely didn’t know what to say to you. He was ashamed of what he’s shown and with his lack of self-control. He felt appalled with himself.  How could he disrespect you like that? You were a client. A client and worker relationship weren’t prohibited, not at all. It was just his work ethics that wanted everything to be strictly professional, he knew how important your role is to their business. The last thing he wanted was to tarnish what his father built from the ground up with a scandal. So he decided to not let his personal life get involved with his work life. It just makes things complicated, like it is right now. The ‘can’t go to work, feeling sick’ wasn’t wholly a lie. The pain wasn’t physical, it was abstract. And no medicine can induce the pain go away, until he saw your following message. From you: Also, I wanted to talk to you about something. It doesn’t have to be right away, you should rest first and get your health back up. Just message me whenever. Goodnight, Jimin. 

There really was no way out, huh. The next day comes and still no Jimin. That was when you confirmed it. You’ve completely and utterly ruined everything. He did not reply to your messages and didn't even want to see your face. It felt like the ground underneath you cracked opened and devoured you whole. That was the very first time in your life that you’ve acted so venturesomely, look what is has cost you. You blame yourself because there was no one else you could point a finger at. Things wouldn't end up the way they are now if you just stayed in your fucking lane. All of this was your fault. You looked back at all the events that happened to you and realized, maybe it was inevitably your fault. Wonwoo wouldn’t have you left if he saw a reason not to. Jimin wouldn’t be ignoring you if he had a reason no to. The course of the entire day was spent with you cooped up inside your room, wallowing away in your own self-pity. You politely told Jin that you needed some time to be alone and he can decide whatever is best for the landscaping. It was around seven in the evening, Jin bid farewell and suggested that if you needed anything, you could call him up. That was extremely thoughtful of him, you think. Another hour passed and the doorbell rings. You weren't expecting anyone though, so you were quite puzzled as to who it might be. The front door open and you see Jimin. He was wearing a navy blue dress shirt that was folded up to his elbows, wow. Sleek black slacks for pants that cinched his slim waist and leather dress shoes to put everything together. What's the occasion, you thought. "Oh, Jimin" you hid the nervous of your voice by pulling him into a hug "I-its good to see you again, what brings you here? Are you feeling better?" "Ah, yes. I'm sorry for being absent these past few days." His head was hanging low and his eyes were looking elsewhere just to avoid yours. "I wanted to apologize." He finally looked at you with his brown orbs that were displaying sincerity. You ushered him to come inside and take a seat on your couch. "Apologize?" You asked, a little bit perplexed "For what exactly?" "For what I did," his voice grew feebler "I shouldn't have done what I did. I shouldn't have disrespected you like that. I shouldn't have taken advantage of you just because I felt the heat of that moment. I'm sorry, y/n. I swear I'm better than that." "Oh, Jimin." You smiled tenderly, cupping his plump cheeks with your hand. "I think it's the other way around. I should be the one apologizing. Back then, I couldn't control myself when I should have. After seeing you, all the emotions I've put aside unexpectedly erupted." With your unoccupied hand, you tightly held his. "The truth is, you really have grown on me in all the best way possible. Initially, I thought it was just the backlash of my divorce egging me. I thought maybe my mind was looking for a rebound to dull the ache. But..."  Your eyes started becoming glassy. You felt him clutch you hand tighten spurring you to continue "I think that's not it. I know it isn't. You've been nothing but a blessing to me, Jimin. An absolute angel. You're sweet, kind, caring, understanding, ugh--" You mocked frustratingly, letting out a small giggle. "You're perfect. I couldn't see anyone that wouldn't fall for you like I have." Jimin's face reflected what he felt at that moment, relief. This wasn't what he was expecting, hence why he averted the confrontation as best as he could. You were the one who was perfect and completely out of his league. You were a beautiful and capable independent woman that any man would kill for. Your ex-husband was beyond stupid to play with your feelings like he did, he knows. But if it wasn't for your ex's stupidity, he wouldn't be here facing the only woman he'd want to be with for the rest of his life. "I thought you wouldn't like me since I was older--." "Stop." He interrupted, stroking his fingers through your locks while gazing at your gorgeous features. The staring contest ended with the both of you smacking lips, eager to taste what has been endured for so long. Impatient longing was evident in every kiss, lick, bite and tug.  You kissed him so fervently that his back was digging against the backrest of the sofa. One of your legs seemed to have a mind of its own and positioned itself to straddle him. "Are you sure you want me?" You queried the boy beneath you, your tone much mischievous from before, it was like there was a flipped switch somewhere. The noticeable change in the atmosphere has got him simply nodding, excited to know there was this side of you that he has not witnessed before. He watched you as you steadily unravel your blouse's satin belt and started to gently caress his wrist. "Would you mind if I tie up these pretty hands of yours?" You hummed, pulling on his hand up to you face and sucking on his middle finger and ring finger. The sensation of your wet mouth around his digits caused his brain to send signals down there. He could already feel himself get rock hard inside his jeans, thinking about how tight your mouth would be if he shoved his dick down you throat. But he'll save that for another day because right now he just wants to let you do what you want to do with him. Right now, he is yours for the taking. You urged him to lean a little closer to you. His face now between the valley of your breast as you meticulously tie his hands behind his back. You pushed him back to his previous position and inquired, "Do you want me to cover your eyes as well?" He shook his head in protest and said, "N-no. I want to see you." There was a pause as he manages to catch his breath, "I-I wanna see you while you make me feel good." You nodded, brushing his hair out of his sweat slicked forehead. From his head, your hand slid lazily down to his neck, to his chest, to his stomach and finally to the growing bulge inside his pants. You palm him unhurriedly, taking your time. Tracing your fingertips over the curve of his caged penis. "Y-y/n.." Jimin griped, observing your hand press against his erection. Somehow enduring the excruciating pain, your teasing had sown. "Can I ask you one last favor?" You purred, peppering his neck with kisses and sucking purple bruises here and there. "W-what is it?" he managed to reply, reveling in the way your teeth nipped against his delicate skin. "Call me noona," Jimin was silent, somewhat waiting for an explanation. When you told him the first time, he met you that he can call you by your first made him feel special because only he could do that. The other workers call you 'Miss' and Jungkook and Taehyung declared you as 'our noona'. "N-noona-" Jimin whined, bucking his hips harder against you hand. He saw your pupils dilate as the word escaped your lips, inflaming something inside you. "Jimin," you growled, squeezing his around his girth ferociously. Buttons were unfastened one after the other, exposing his refined chest and taut muscles. Out of nowhere, you felt raunchy. The tips of your fingernail slowly dragged themselves across his torso, leaving streaks of red in its track. He flung his head back, enjoying the sting that danced on his skin. Jimin squirmed as he felt your weight suddenly leave his lap. His neck snapped back to your direction and damn, what a sight to see. You tucked between his legs and unzipping his pants exposing his angry red-tipped cock oozing out beads of pre-cum. He smirked as he saw you involuntary lick your lips. "You like what you see, noona?" "God, yes." You exhaled, wrapping both your hands around his shaft not because you wanted to, but because it was necessary. Your tiny, little hand could barely encompass his circumference. "Noona's gonna me you feel good, baby." You felt Jimin's dick twitch by the given pet name. "Noona," he groaned, thrusting his member in your grip just to feel any sort of friction. Sensually, you undid your bloused and hurled it somewhere on the floor followed by your bra, exposing your bare chest to the boy. Jimin jerked in his seat, wanting to grab and knead you breast with his own hands. It looked even better up close. The skin smooth and flawless, nipples pert and hard due to the frosty air. "Fuck" he hissed through his teeth, if he could get his mouth on those buds he'd suck them dry and pull it between his teeth making you cry out. "Behave." You scolded him, eyes staring daggers. He stayed in place once again, not wanting to vex you in any way. 

You ran the flat of you tongue on the underside of his length, feeling his skin pulse at contact. Salaciously making your way to its head, you began circling his narrow slit with the tip of your tongue. Feeble moans were the only things escaping his pretty mouth. You seized this moment to swallow him whole down to the hilt, fighting your gag reflex. Your mouth has never felt this stuffed as you moan in satisfaction. Jimin felt the vibration of your throat around his cock, tightening around it. You languidly started bobbing your head up and down, bottoming out with every stroke. With a lewd pop, you tried pulling your mouth off his cock. Strings of saliva dribbled from your lips connecting to his tip. You push yourself up slight and proceeded painting your nipples with the concoction of you saliva and his pre-cum that was coating the tip of his penis. "How does this feel?" You cooed, sandwiching his hard member between your two breasts, erotically pumping the tender flesh up and down his length. "So so gooood, noona" Jimin wheezed blissfully. The sensation of his cock wholly enveloped by your soft mounds is inclining him over the edge. "Noona," he wailed shutting his eyes, the urgency of wanting to release washing over him. By the look of things, you guess he's close. You quicken the pace, feeling the skin of you breast chafe due to friction but you don't care. You clamped your hand on your boobs harder to tighten its hold around his cock and pump faster and faster and faster until he's cumming on you tits. "Shit, noona," Jimin stressed, his breaths labored. You watched as his chest heaved up and down, supplying him with the oxygen he needs after such an intense climax. "Oh no. Look at the mess you made, Jimin." You shook your head, pointing to your breast painted with his milky liquid. "I don't like messes," You sing-song, pushing yourself back up to straddle him once more. You clasped your finger under his chin and commanded, "clean it." His heart stammered in his chest. This is it. This is what he desired. Your perky nipples snug between his lips while your back arches in euphoria. He aggressively lapped up his juices from the skin of your chest with his tongue, leaving no trace of the substance behind. Up and down, left and right, there was no area left untouched by his wet greedy muscles. If he could only see the contorted position he put himself in just to taste you. He doesn't give a shit anymore, he'll gladly eat his cum out of you asshole if you asked. He obscenely sucked you left nipple first, earning the tiniest moan from you. Alternating between light nips and starved slurps, abusing your bud. He then moves to your right nipple, the more sensitive one that has you immediately grinding your clothed core against his semi-hard on. "Let me make you feel good, noona." He desperately whined, concealing his face in the nook of your neck inhaling your fragrant scent. You quirked a brow and asked while weaving you digits through his sweat-damped hair. "What does my baby have in mind?" "Let me.." he croaked. "Louder. I can't hear you." "Let me eat you out, noona. Let me make you feel good." He begged with pleading eyes , fidgeting his hands that were behind his back, trying to untie the belt that was restraining him. "I can make you--" "If you take those off I am kicking you out." You threateningly glared at him, voice deadly like venom. Jimin was scared shitless. He could do nothing but sit silently and obey. "I-I'm sorry, noona. I didn't mean to make you mad." This boy. It may seem like you're the one in control but it is you who are actually wrapped around his little finger. Giving in to what he wants. "It's okay, baby." you massaged his tensed shoulders, soothing him down. "I'll still let you eat me out if you promise not to take off your restraint." You sounded so sweet, the exact opposite of what you were minutes ago. Not wanting to piss you off more, Jimin nodded. You helped him lay down the sofa, propping his head underneath a throw pillow. You stepped to the side and shimmied your pants off. His eyes trailed the article of clothing peeling off your body. When the pair of jeans were long gone, his gaze was attached to your still clothed core. A small wet patch sticking to your folds in the middle was visible. You prop a leg over him, climbing on top of his chest, finding purchase when his face is below your pussy. He could smell the scent of you arousal. Filling up his nostrils and intoxicating his entire nervous system like it's some kind of poison. This by far was the best angle he's seen you in. Seeing it up close, he wished he could at least touch you… You moved into a considerably better position, if you buck your hips the slightest bit, if will directly collide with his mouth. "This what you want baby boy?" You teased, lowering you center on the tip of his nose. Overpowering him even more. "Yes, yes, yes!" He cries out, "I want nothing but your pussy, noona!" You snickered at how desperate he has become, "Who knew you were such a little bitch, Jimin. Loving the way you hands are tied up and thirsting over my pussy." "Yes! I want to taste you, noona. I want to make you feel good until you're squirting all over my face like you did before on the floor. Then I'll eat you up so good, so clean." "Good boy." You thrummed, ultimately taking off your underwear. Letting him marvel at the sight of your woman hood. Clean Shaven, baby smooth, and tulip pink. Without warning, you hastily maneuver yourself, grinding your core against his face. "Put your filthy mouth to good use and make me cum." The sounds he was making were borderline pornographic as hell. His slurps and moans blessing your ears, making your insides rut. He'd occasionally prod his muscles inside your hole then flick on your clit relentlessly. The tensed coil finally snapped and you chase you high by grinding against his face. He's devouring you out like a man starved, sucking out and drinking all the juice your pussy was providing him. Wanting nothing but to be selfish, and have you for himself. He licked you clean, not wasting a single drop of your delicious cum. "I didn't know you were such a disgusting slut for pussy, Jimin." "I, I only want your pussy noona… no one else's." He confessed. "On your knees." You demand. "H-huh?" "I said on you knees. You slut." Jimin dropped down on the floor waiting for your next command like the slut he is. "Tell me how much you want to fuck me." "I-I.." He stuttered with his words, and it made you infuriated. "I said. Tell me how much you want to fuck this tight pussy of mine."  You bellowed, your words bouncing off the walls of your living you. "I want to fuck you so much, noona! I want to bury my cock so deep inside your pussy until I reach your cervix then I'll fuck you some more. I want nothing but to fill you up with my seed and put a baby in you, noona! I'll fuck you so good that you'll want to you pussy filled by me every day!" He cried, plunging his head on the floor in a begging for your life bow. "Please, please, please!" Jimin was hysterical at this point, screaming and begging you to let him fuck you. "Noona, please. I'll fuck you so good that you'll forget about all your problems." You shiver at his submission and once again, he's got you eating at the palm of his hands. You freed his wrist and he lunges at you, hustling you up against the wall. "Noona," he breathed in the smell of your shampoo, steadying his hands on your hips fingers digging into your skin. "You don't know how much I wanted to put my hands on you. I can't take it anymore, noona."  he pressed his erection against your slick folds "I need to be inside you." "Then show noona what that dirty cock can do." you smirked, challenging the boy. He gripped both of your thighs and carried you to the dinner table. Laying you down before spreading your legs open for him. He aligned his cock to your entrance, pushing gradually, inch by inch until he bottomed out. The stretch was incredible, you were already dripping wet but there was still the sting that lingered from his size. Your walls were trying resisting the force, convulsing around his length spontaneously. "You're tighter than I've imagined, noona." You did kegels around him, eliciting a sharp groan from the boy. "Fuck, Noona. You were made for my cock." You hummed in agreement, relishing the sensation of him pushing in and out of your tight hole. "Baby.." You moaned wantonly, elevating you butt so that he could have a better angle while penetrating you ruthlessly. "Your thick long cock is the best I've ever had. Better than my ex-husband's pathetic excuse for a dick." His ego doubled at your praise, pride blooming in his chest. "More, noona.. please tell me how great my cock is for you.." "Ahhh-- ahh. Jimin!" You bit your lip, clenching around him. "You're taking remarkably good care of noona. Fucking your noona so good. I love your cock so much. I want you to fill me up with you cum. Yeah? Hmmmm. Make your noona the happiest by cumming inside my pussy." There was the push he needed, he was plunging further into you. He felt the barrier of your cervix and broken through it before spilling all his seed into your womb. You quickly followed when you felt the warmth of his juices flowing into you. Your velvet walls convulsed around his cock, milking him for all his worth. Silence fell on the both of you, only the south of your panting and harsh breath resonated. You supported yourself up with you elbows as Jimin pull out his now flaccid penis. You felt the trickle of both of your releases slobber out of your sore hole. "Baby, do noona a favor and clean up the mess you've made with your mouth." Jimin without hesitation obeyed and dove right in. Making sure to get every last drop of yours and his cum with his tongue. He lifted his head, mouth glistening from your juices. You pulled him closer to pet his held. "You were such a good boy for noona. Bring me to bed." He obliged, carrying you bridal style to your room. His muscles rippling under your stripped body. "Noona?" He questioned while his face was still cuddling your tummy. "Hmm?" "Did I make you feel good?" You lifted up his face and said, "You made me feel so good, baby." You assured, loving the way his eyes turn into crescent moons endearing when he smiles. "Can we do that again? But this time I want the blindfolds." He flashed a cheeky grin. You smirked at his innocence, placing a kiss on his temple. "Of course, baby. We have all the time in the world." ++ The sound of knocking on your front door wakes you up, seems like this is will be a regular thing now. You managed to put on an oversized shirt and underwear on before heading to the source of the noise. You opened the doors at was bet by Jungkook and Taehyung. "Good morning, boys." You yawned, gesturing them to come in. "Uhm. Good morning, noona" Jungkook croaked, pushing his senior to speak on his behalf. "See, we haven't heard from Jimin since last night so uh-- it's just jungkook and I that'll be finishing up work today." Taehyung stated. "About that…." 

You heard the door of your room creak open and out comes Jimin with nothing but this boxers on and hickeys all over his neck and chest. The two boys looked at each other dumbfoundedly and once they've put two and two together, huge grins were plastered on their faces. End

tell me what u think pls 

[masterofmagnetism]

they put me in the ground (but i’m back from the dead)

They took my life but it isn't the end They put me in the ground but I'm back from the dead

Oh, I'm the World Ender baby and I'm coming for you

WHO: Erik Lehnsherr, Scott Summers @firstxman, Jean Grey-Summers @jeaniegreysummers, Bruce Banner @hulkout. Mention of @mistressxfmagnetism  WHERE: Stark Tower’s CRADLE lab. WHEN: February 21, 2021 WHAT: Jean and Scott get Bruce’s help resurrecting Erik. Erik comes back and is Not Happy. WARNINGS: Reference to past major character death, abuse, murder, assorted mental health issues, grief, ptsd. WORDS: 11k

JEAN: Erik crossed a line. No matter how she cried over his body, no matter how empty she felt when he was lowered into that grave (and she felt it, the shift in the earth, felt the ripple of emotion that came from the funeral even as she curled up in the rain under a tree in the park, even as she flicked through annotated poetry anthologies, a German dictionary propped open beside her), she knew they’d made the right decision. The only decision. Because Genosha was meant to be a place of safety, of respite, somewhere to escape from centuries of persecution and war. They’d already declared their strength with the siege. Anything after that was nothing more than malicious.

More than malicious. Genocidal.

Jean tried to tell herself it was the Phoenix. She told herself that if she could wake up in the morning with moon dust on her knees and blood under her nails and not remember any of it, that maybe the same thing was happening to Erik. Maybe he was overcome like she was on that lawn. But Erik didn’t ask for help. Erik didn’t hesitate, didn’t have a moment of outward remorse, didn’t let her into his head to see if there was an instance of it even internally.

Didn’t trust her, at the end of the day, despite his promises, despite his love. Despite everything they’d been to each other for all these years, Jean still wasn’t enough to break through. Her other father made that same mistake, out on that beach all those years ago. He made the same mistake every time he sent children to fight an old friend he wasn’t entirely sure would pull his punches

But that still didn’t give her the right to kill him.

After all, it was Jean who put the Phoenix into him. It was Jean who split the Raft, Jean who helped orchestrate the siege, Jean who encouraged the alliance between Erik and Scott. It was Jean who was fundamental in the unlocking of Lorna’s memories, Jean who indirectly led to the assault on Julio Richter.

Jean at the epicentre, as always, for once a driving force in her own narrative and hating every goddamn minute.

She killed Erik Lehnsherr, and it was the right thing to do, but him staying dead was a decision she couldn’t swallow. Asking the Phoenix for help was impossible. There were forces at play there she could never understand. Science was the only way forward, and there was something there when they exhumed the grave (Lorna would kill her, if this didn’t work. Jean would let her). Erik didn’t feel dead. He didn’t feel gone. He felt like he was … frozen. Waiting.

Stasis. A pause, rather than a full stop.

Jean chewed at the inside of her cheek, arms folded against the white of her lab coat. “We’ve run the preliminary tests more times than I can count,” she said. Scott would recommend, no doubt, that she slept before they tried this -- but she hadn’t slept properly in weeks. She couldn’t, until this was resolved. “We don’t know what frame of mind he might be in when he comes out, so we need to be prepared for anything.” Including killing him again, if necessary. This time, it would be her dealing the final blow. Marriage was all about equality.

SCOTT: When Scott was a child, his father was a retreating back. He always seemed to walk out of the door more often than he walked in it, always seemed happier leaving than staying. Scott remembered carrying a child’s anger in tiny fists, remembered a heart pounding against a ribcage in a way he wasn’t yet familiar with, remembered asking his mother on the days when she felt well enough to leave her bedroom why his father never seemed to want to stay. ’This is supposed to be his home,’ he’d said, ’and people are supposed to want to be home.’ And his mother went quiet, looked down at her hands, tried to think of something to say, some way to explain away anger too big to fit inside a body so small. ’People do things sometimes,’ she told him, ’Not because they want to. Because they have to. Because some things need doing. Your father does important work, Scotty. He does what he has to do.’

He learned to hate that phrase over the years. He does what he has to do. Even after his father died doing what he had to do, even after he took Scott’s mother with him, the phrase lingered. It was one Sinister used in that basement lab, one he hummed as he poked needles into veins and pulled memories from an already fractured mind. It was one Winters sneered when he kicked Scott in the ribs so hard he heard something crack. It was one Erik clung to with missiles pointed at a city full of people Scott loved.

And it was one Scott used when he took off his glasses and painted the whole world red.

Erik wasn’t very different from the rest of the fathers who’d let him down over the years. Scott knew that now. He wasn’t entirely separate from Christopher Summers, from Nathaniel Essex, from Jack Winters. They all clung to the same excuse, all hurt people and offered themselves an easy out in the process. Erik wasn’t very different from them at all. But neither was Scott.

If he voiced the concern to her, Jean would reassure him. Scott was sure of as much. She’d tell him that he’d saved lives doing what he did, remind him that Erik hadn’t offered much of a choice. She’d tell him everything he needed to hear, and she’d make him feel better in the process. That was exactly why Scott hadn’t told her his thoughts aloud. Jean would comfort him, and Scott wasn’t sure he deserved comfort. He wasn’t sure he deserved forgiveness. And redemption, he knew, wasn’t an option at all. You couldn’t be redeemed from a thing like this. Once that blood was on your hands, it stayed there. You could never get it out from beneath your nails.

But… Jean was offering him a chance to come as close to fixing things as was possible. Bringing Erik back sans Phoenix wouldn’t undo the damage that had been done. Scott knew from experience that raising the dead didn’t heal the wounds they’d left behind, but it was something. And god, he couldn’t keep doing nothing. Anything was better than that.

So he was here. In a lab he felt fundamentally uncomfortable in, with a man he hardly knew, planning on doing the impossible for someone he’d killed himself. His palms itched and his chest ached and his eyes were heavy with all the sleep he’d missed since Erik’s death, but he was here. And he hoped that could count for something.

“Can you restrain him, if necessary?” He looked to Jean, nervous energy flittering in his chest. “He may need time to… calm down.” There was every chance he’d be angry, when he came back. Scott certainly had been, and there was a letter in the Bugle to prove it. And Erik…

Erik had always done anger better than anyone.

BRUCE: Assumptions disappointed and killed more people than anything else in the world. When Bruce was young, he thought it was because disappointed weighed you down like boulders tied to your ankles in quicksand, but as the scientist had aged, he found that it wasn’t because the feeling was so heavy - it was because assumptions were akin to hope. Hope spread like a disease: clogged your arteries, confused the mind, and chased happiness down like catfish in a barrel.

Hope, on its own, could save lives. Could bring a dead man back to life under the skilled hands of a mutant and a man who belonged nowhere - could salvage what little tenderness resided in a heart made of stone. And in the very next second, it could slit the wrists of the person wielding it. It starts as a small trickle of blood that eventually bleeds you dry without you knowing, Bruce thought, large hands pulling open a gaudy blue menu, full of numbers and operations that, with hope, man could understand.

Bruce didn’t know the X-Men very well. Knew Logan from the few times they were forced to cross paths in laboratories just like this one, but not much else. Knew what he’d read in the papers and knew how Erik Lehnsherr should probably stay dead.

In his apparent all-mighty knowing (that he’d likely adapted from Tony), he also knew what assumptions did to good people who were just in the wrong place, at the wrong time, doing the wrong things for the right reasons.

While he hadn’t seen Scott and Jean very often, Bruce couldn’t imagine they looked this exhausted all of the time. While hero-ing and saving and destroying often took a toll on your mental and physical health, the look that they carried said ‘I’m pleading for hope, and this is the last place I have left to look.’ Bruce thought, for just a moment as he booted up the core CRADLE systems, that he’d probably worn that look too many times in his life too. Half-naked in the streets of Harlem, showing up in the rain on Tony Stark’s doorstep, visiting his mother’s grave with a clenched fist and flowers she would never get to see, or on the faces of the other monks at the Phuktal monastery in Zanskar when they finally learned of his story, who Bruce Banner really was.

Yet, he continued to hope that somehow things would change. That someone would bandage his wrists and tell him he could stop bleeding for the sins of others - do the right things because they felt right, sleep at night because it was OK if he stopped to rest, eat because it was alright to have something in his stomach other than regret.

People always assumed Bruce Banner was always battling for control, hoped that he wouldn’t let go of himself. Bruce always wondered if tomorrow would finally be the day he wouldn’t wake up again.

Staring down at Erik’s lifeless, bio-illuminated face inside of the CRADLE vault, Bruce wanted Erik to wake up. Whether it was for the right reasons or not, he wanted Erik to wake up. Licking his lips, Bruce gave Scott a somewhat sad smile, brows furrowed, “I think if things get out of control, I’ve got it covered.” We have it covered, his ridiculously sardonic brain reminded him unhelpfully. Even his mind and body were not his own - out of his control.

The stillness within the lab seemed almost clinical, if it weren’t for the fact that they were about to scientifically reconstitute living cells in an organically preserved carcass of someone they all considered a friend. “To be fair to Erik, I’d probably be pretty -“ Happy, “- mad if someone I trusted off’d me too.” The joke fell flat between them, and the chemical hiss of the CRADLE as it began to pre-register every input that he had settled into the machine filled in the silence for him. “I would say ‘ready when you are’ but I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready, so. It’s more ‘ready when you go because I have to be ready,’ haha.”

JEAN: Everything about this was a bad idea. Jean had fought between her head and her heart for as long as she could remember, and right now her stomach was squirming and her mind was screaming at her to stop, to leave well enough alone, to leave because Banner was a master scientist, but he needed their energy levels to make this work. She wrung her hands together as she looked down at the CRADLE and thought about that night, the couple of minutes that changed their lives completely. Erik stood there, argued with them that genocide could be an option. He turned into the very monster he’d been fighting since he was a child, and he saw nothing wrong with it.

Some people may say that was just Magneto. Jean knew better -- she had to know better. If she loved that man as much as she had, if she trusted him, then that meant there was something good in him, something worth protecting. That meant it was the Phoenix that caused him to stand there, thumb hovering over the metaphorical trigger. It was the Phoenix that almost had him killing her friends, her former students, even mutants who still resided on the other side of the bay.

He wasn’t thinking straight. He wasn’t thinking like himself. And when he came back, just as when she came back from Zatanna taking her out on the lawn of her childhood home, he would understand that. He would thank them, for doing what was necessary -- because he was the one who taught her how to do that.

Sentimentality had no place in war, Jean knew that, but she did what she did for him. She wouldn’t have his legacy tarnished by one final decision made in the heat of a cosmic flame.

“I can hold him,” she said. She was confident in that much. There was a reason why she wasn’t taking the risk of using the Phoenix, even if it was a tried and true method. She would stop it from fracturing into him again -- or anyone again -- if she could help it at all. “No,” Jean countered, turning around to Bruce. Softening her voice, she repeated, “No. You’re here as a scientist -- to help. If he’s going to lash out at anyone, it’ll be us.” Me, she thought to herself. If anyone touched a hair on Scott’s head, she’d never forgive herself … and chances were it would go a lot more south than she intended when she was trying to repair bridges.

She touched against the top of the CRADLE, ran her eyes quickly over the calculations flying across the screen. “There’s a reason I asked you, you know,” she said to Bruce. “Because I knew you’d understand it was more than just offing someone who was inconvenient. It was…” Mercy? The word itself seemed like an insult. “I thought of all people,” she continued, “you’d understand why we needed a Plan B.”

It wasn’t a personal secret. It had been broadcast over the TV, radio, newspapers. The self loathing that followed after Banner and the Hulk was comparable to that of Scott and Jean themselves. They’d never had pride in what they were unless they were trained to -- conditioned to. And from what Jean read in Stark’s mind, she knew Banner had contingency plans. The Hulkbuster armor, a series of arrows, certain poisons that would at least slow him down if not kill him if push came to shove.

“Erik didn’t know what she was doing,” Jean said, and her voice was far firmer on account of looking at Scott when she said it than she thought herself capable. “He doesn’t deserve to die for someone else’s mistakes.” A beat passed, a breath taken, and Jean nodded. “Start the process.”

SCOTT: Even without the Phoenix, paranoia ate at Scott’s gut like a disease. He’d never been a trusting man, not after a childhood wracked by grief and betrayal, and after everything that had happened since… Without a little doubt clinging to his fractured mind, he wouldn’t have made it as long as he had. He wouldn’t be alive now if not for his healthy dose of uncertainty.

(But was he alive at all? Did this count as living? He was clay and bone, an inanimate thing Jean had breathed life into, a body the Phoenix had claimed. Was living the proper word for what he was doing, or was it one assigned to him because no one knew any better term? How many times could a dead thing die? Maybe they were about to find out.)

This paranoia made him tense at Banner’s presence, made him uncertain and uneasy, made him shift and tighten at the reminder that the room was not occupied by his family alone. It was Scott, it was Jean, it was the empty shell of the man they had loved and killed, and it was Banner. It was them, and it was an Avenger. And they needed him, Scott knew. They needed him to ensure that this wasn’t a repeat of Jean standing over Scott’s grave on Valentine’s Day, needed an outside influence to ensure they wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes and call it a solution, but Scott was uneasy all the same. .

Banner swore he could handle it if Erik got out of control… but Scott looked to Jean anyways, didn’t relax until she confirmed that she would be able to hold him if she had to. The ease of tension didn’t last long before Banner spoke again and Scott tightened all over, wound tighter than a spring ready to take off. “If you’d rather have let him kill eight million people…” His voice was tight and sharp and unnecessary. It had been a joke, Scott knew, a poorly timed one, perhaps a tasteless one, but still a joke. But Scott Summers wasn’t known for his sense of humor.

(Scott Summers wasn’t known for anything decent at all. He hadn’t been for a long time now, and he was aware that it was a perception that predated the Phoenix’s reign of his body. He’d never been a good person. The things the Phoenix talked him in to doing only cemented a fact everyone else had always already known.)

Glancing to Jean, Scott let his lungs deflate, let the breath that was caught there escape in a quiet sigh. Erik didn’t know what he was doing. She sounded so sure of it, so positive, but… Scott had known what he was doing, with the bird ravaging his mind. He had known every step he took, been aware of every word he said. And maybe he wouldn’t have said them without the firebird insisting they needed to be said, but he would have thought them all the same. Maybe he wouldn’t have written a letter to the Bugle or killed police officers who stood in his way or participated in an insurrection against the government of a country he’d only ever wanted to belong to, but he wasn’t sure he would have thought those things were wrong, either.

It wasn’t entirely fair to say that Erik hadn’t been himself, but Scott wouldn’t argue it, either. He wouldn’t tell Jean that he wasn’t sure the bird absolved Erik of his sins, wouldn’t admit that he didn’t believe it absolved him of his, because doing so would mean saying that Jean wasn’t free of hers, either. And Scott loved her far too much to breathe that sentence to life, even if it might have been true.

“He deserves a second chance,” he said, because he believed that, if nothing else. Erik deserved a second chance because everyone did, because Scott had gotten more than his fair share and this was what he’d done with them, because Erik had suffered so much and worked so hard and he’d deserved a better end than the one Scott gave him. “So let’s give him one.”

BRUCE: It took a lot, for someone like Bruce to keep their comments to themselves. Even with the thought of his father barreling him down with a glass whiskey bottle, Bruce still piped up when it was not his place. He’d watched plenty of curses take the lives of people who didn’t necessarily deserve it - but Bruce knew from personal experience, just like the other people in that room, that Erik knew what he was doing. Likely deserved to pay some sort of penance for his actions. But Bruce also thought, calibrating the machine, that maybe knowing what kind of monster lurked beneath the skin was enough of a punishment in itself.

“I won’t say I understand,” The scientist started, initiating launch sequence, a loud hiss coming from the chamber beside them, hearing an echo of Tony’s voice in his head. Yeah, buddy. I’ll strike you down in cold blood if need be. Tony waving him off a moment later to talk about some sport neither of them gave a damn about. How hard had it been for Jean and Scott to make the decision to put Erik down? “But I get it. How much you want it, I mean.” How much you want the monster to be imaginary, he thought.

The hissing grew louder, echoing off of the metal room within the lab, numbers flying across Bruce’s panel and a loading bar appearing for the sequence duration. The ominous glowing green had Bruce shutting his eyes tightly for a moment, remembering the day the bomb went off. The gamma seeping into every fibre of his being - the excruciating pain he felt the first time Hulk entered his mind. Bruce wondered if maybe a piece of Erik would be missing too, when it was all over. If the Phoenix would gauge a hole in him that nothing could ever fill again.

“Go, Jean.”

ERIK: He’d been fifteen when Shaw had conducted the experiment that changed his life. Strapped to a table in the middle of the man’s lab in Auschwitz, leather strap between his teeth, Erik had been terrified by the manic look in the doctor’s eyes as he readied a syringe. The other doctor had been there, too, the one everyone in the camp knew only as Nosferatu, the one who never had his subjects come back to their bunks. Erik was scared of Shaw, but that one had his adrenaline pounding extra hard, noxious fear making his mind spin as he struggled to watch the two men out of the corner of his eyes.

He hadn’t realized he’d been shaking the metal table beneath him until Shaw turned to him and clicked his tongue, and Erik made a concerted effort to rein his powers back in—from the table, from the needle, from everything, because the last time he’d lost control, Shaw had pinned him down and broken his arm in two places.

Shaw finished his prep work and rolled over to the side of the table, the other man at his shoulder, watching with a detached gaze that made Erik feel like a butterfly pinned to a board. Shaw had brushed his hand through Erik’s hair as if he were trying to calm a spooked horse, shushing him as he readied the needle.

“This is my gift to you, Max,” he’d smiled. ”So you can be like me. Like us.” And then he’d slid the needle into his arm and pressed the plunger, and everything felt like it was on fire. He’d discovered later what the man meant, what ‘gift’ he’d bestowed on him in those labs.

Life. Too much of it. He’d been 93 years old, facing off against his children in the silo, and he’d scarcely looked into his forties. His cells aged slowly the way Shaw’s had, and he’d hated it, hated that the man couldn’t simply be relegated to memory.

When Scott had flipped the visor, Erik had died. But his cells hadn’t quite done the same—had sat in stasis through his burial, through his exhumation, through his settling into the Cradle and the tests that led up to the flood of energy that finally sparked his neurons back to life.

His heart beat once. Twice. His chest heaved as he dragged air into his lungs for the first time since the silo.

They tell you that your life flashes before your eyes when you die. They don’t tell you that it does the same thing when you come back.

Over the years, Erik had carefully constructed mental walls to keep unwanted memories at bay. Charles had once remarked that his mind was one of the most organized he’d ever been in, neatly linear and uncluttered by anything except The Goal and The Plan.

You wouldn’t know it, now.

The first thing he was aware of was that his mind felt empty, somehow, like he was missing a limb. He’d had a cosmic force that devoured worlds tucked in alongside his own consciousness for so long that its absence was jarring. Almost as jarring as the realization that all those walls were so much rubble.

Erik opened his eyes, saw a lab, and those memories of Shaw that should’ve been locked away assaulted him all at once. Terror, not helped by the realization that he was contained.

Get out get out get out get out.

The top of the Cradle slammed open, and Erik sat up, powers already stretching around the room, wrapping around whatever metal was in reach. Natural, unbidden, just reaching, leaving pens and tools hovering in the air above where they’d been resting. Defensive instincts long-honed seizing on anything that could be a weapon before he could even identify the threat.

And then he saw them.

“I love you, but I can’t love this.” Jean’s face, stone cold.

“You’ll be grateful I stopped you, later.” Scott’s fingers, perfectly steady on his glasses.

Betrayal from two of the people he loved and trusted most. ( But he should have expected that, shouldn’t he? Shaw’s voice, warning him that “sentiment will be the death of you if you let it, my boy.” Magda running away, Charles turning on him, sending an army of children after him—He should have known, always, and yet. )

Fury reared its head, as it always did, and Erik felt the beginning brushes of Jean’s mind against his and realized that those walls were gone, too, and no. No, no, no, no no.

<<Get OUT.>>

The sentiment was punctuated by the hovering metal around the room all flying toward the couple at once as Erik hauled himself out of the Cradle.

Jean didn’t even need to interfere, because the second his feet his the floor, a wall of exhaustion slammed into him. The Phoenix had been able to keep him going through almost no sleep for months, but without its energy in his mind, all that time putting off his body’s needs crashed into him at once.

His legs gave out from under him, and the airborne metal hit the floor at the same time he did.

Someone else was at his side, moving to help, and Erik snarled before he even realized who it was. “Don’t touch me.” Banner—it was Banner, and he was safe-ish, wasn’t he? Erik didn’t know if anyone was, couldn’t relax—stopped, hand halfway to his shoulder, and Erik curled his fists and shook his head as he tried to get the flood of memories clamoring for attention to settle.

“Make them leave. Get them out.” He was in no condition to be dealing with them—mind too loud, powers too weak. Maybe once, that wouldn’t have been a problem.

But he didn’t trust either of them. Not. One. Bit.

JEAN: Bruce wasn’t going to forgive them. He could say he understood a part of it, while distancing himself from the darkest aspects of what they had done -- the darkest aspects of the forces they were playing with now. The Phoenix remained silent in the back of her mind, though it was never true silence. That would imply some degree of calm, and Jean hadn’t known what that felt like since … God, since she was ten years old, maybe before. The Phoenix’s absence from this occasion said all it needed to about her stance. She thought Jean should’ve asked her. She thought they could’ve worked together, that Jean would turn to her and beg, that she’d regret what she’d done.

Regret that Erik was dead, perhaps. Regret over the actions she had taken to prevent something worse … not exactly. Charles drummed into her since she was fourteen years old that to be truly useful in this world, you needed to protect the downtrodden. To be truly good, you had to defend those who couldn’t defend themselves, defend those who would never forgive you for making yourself bleed on their behalf. The city of New York had done nothing for Jean Grey but rip her apart and refuse to put her back together again. The people hated her, splashed her husband’s face in graffiti, treated her father like a lunatic in the press.

But that didn’t mean she’d let them die. It was the same principle she extended here, standing over the CRADLE, watching the mechanisms begin to shift. (Did Stark know they were here, she wondered? He trusted Banner, she’d picked up on that much -- but from what she understood of Iron Man, he was a pragmatist. A logistician, at his core. He would say this was a terrible idea. Jean understood where that impression could come from.)

Everyone deserved forgiveness. The Phoenix had hurt, had ripped them apart, made them commit so many atrocities -- but this was the first step in giving a second chance, in piecing together the things Jean had broken.

But, again, that didn’t mean Jean was blindly trusting. Her intelligence wasn’t the first thing people thought of, when they thought of her (and she knew, of course, courtesy of hearing every goddamn ‘compliment’ that went through every person’s head), but it was something that only grew with experience. The CRADLE burst open, and Jean already had protective shields formed around Scott, around Bruce, and a split second later, around herself.

The metal dropped, though. The invisible shields remained in place, even if she knew Erik would assume their presence. The CRADLE hissed, smoke still rising from the chamber. The lights flickered, the walls shook, electricity in the air made her hair go static—

And Erik was standing in front of her. Erik was standing in front of her, eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched, hands curled into fists by his side. Chest moving, breaths heaving. He was angry, always angry, angrier than she’d ever seen him -- but he was alive.

(Was that all that mattered? Rictor said, once, she over-simplified it. Breathing alone wasn’t enough to keep a person alive, but it was the first step. It was the foundations. Jean always had faith that could lead to something else.)

There was a beat of relief, a wash that went through her chest and relieved the tension that had curled into it (she could tell Lorna she brought her dad back), and then a moment where she realised it wasn’t dad she thought when she looked at this man. It was something else, something foreign, like looking at a stranger.

She’d mourned him, Jean reminded herself. She’d sat, curled in his seat, looking around at the books in his office. She’d taken a blanket from his home during the funeral, tried to find his smell under whiskey and cigar smoke. She’d mourned him, she’d loved him, and the first words that left his mouth…

Well, she had expected it. She had expected it, but there was a part of Jean that hoped, against all odds, just as there had always been.

“Last time we left,” she replied, coolly, keeping her hands stiff by her sides and her feet firmly on the ground, “you almost caused the Third World War. I’d like to make sure that’s not going to happen again.” If that meant Bruce and Scott remained wrapped in a telekinetic shield, if it meant she took the brunt of the flames, so be it.

Jean was used to the fire.

SCOTT: The process, once it happened, wasn’t a slow one. It was strange, watching it play out. Scott had never been present for this part before. He’d watched people he loved die so many times that the images were etched on the back of his eyelids, playing out like a movie projected on a sheet. He could rewind, pause, fast forward, take it from the top. Those moments were a part of him. And he’d had people come back to him, too, of course. Jean walking up to the Institute doors with her hands clasped together so tightly her knuckles were white, like a prayer and an answer all at once. Illyana showing up again years after she’d died, breathing and wild-eyed. He watched people die and saw them lowered into their graves, watched them walk back through the door after the dirt had settled, but this? The only resurrection Scott had ever been present for was his own, and there had been nothing miraculous about that. Nothing good, nothing incredible.

This was different. This wasn’t the Phoenix, wasn’t a cosmic force that described a curse as a blessing. This was some hodgepodge mix of science and telepathy that Scott doubted he’d ever entirely understand. Part of him hadn’t expected it to work at all, had thought the most they’d do was desecrate the corpse of a man who’d more than earned his right to rest, but he’d gone along anyway because Jean had asked him to and Scott had been bad at saying no to her since she took his hand on that park bench decades ago and asked him to stay. The Phoenix was like playing with fire, but this? This was more akin to trying to shape water into something tangible. Scott’s expectations hadn’t been high.

But they should have been. He should have understood that Jean Grey (Jean Summers) never failed at something she’d put her mind and heart into, should have remembered that she was the same girl who’d convinced a sullen, quiet boy that he was a thing worth loving, should have understood that she would move heaven and earth for the people she loved and that Erik, for all his faults, was one of them.

The Cradle slammed open. The metal in the room began to hum, hovering free of gravity. A familiar shield engulfed him, invisible and protective. And Erik Lehnsherr was revived the same way he had died --- suddenly, violently, and with a love so great that there was room for little else besides it.

There was a moment where the world stood still. Everything hung motionless. Scott held his breath, swore that his heart stopped beating for an instant, swore that the blood stopped pumping through his veins as the world waited to right itself again. And then it did, and everything came crashing back down in an instant. The anger slammed into the room like a train obliterating everything left on the tracks, like a car crash of rage and betrayal and grief and defeat. Erik was alive, and he was angry. Scott couldn’t blame him for that, couldn’t fault it. If not for Jean, he would have accepted whatever punishment felt necessary, would have let himself be skewered for his sins.

(“You don’t have to be a martyr,” Warren told him once. ”You don’t have to shoulder every mistake. You’re allowed to forgive yourself, Scott. You’re allowed to move on.” And he might have tried that if anyone had ever told him how. He might have done it if it hadn’t seemed so impossible, so unreal. How could you get out from under something that stretched the length of the whole sky above you? How could you get away from something that was a part of you? It only sounded easy if you’d never felt it before.)

But Jean was there, was shielding him, was protecting him no matter how little he deserved it. The metal dropped to the ground, and the shields stayed up. The anger remained. And with it, the guilt. The grief. The betrayal.

Scott stayed quiet, eyes darting away from Erik and back to Jean. She was hurt. He could feel it through the bond, see it in her posture. She wasn’t surprised, but she was hurt, and he ached with her. He’d wanted a happier resolution to this, a better end, but it had been a fool’s dream. Jean forgave Zatanna when she took the Phoenix down, just as Scott forgave Logan when he ended his suffering on that grassy knoll in Central Park. There were people, he knew that were easy to forgive. There were people good enough, decent enough, that forgiving them came as simply as breathing, as blinking, as turning your head. There were people who were easy to forgive because they were easy to love, because you wanted them in your life no matter the cost.

Scott had never been one of them.

BRUCE: Bruce wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. If there was one well-known thing about Erik Lehnsherr, at least to the public, it was that he was very focused. For good, for bad, he had the insight of an owl and the determination of a bull. Apparently, even in death, in exhaustion, he was equally so. He wondered if he would ever get to feel death. If it would always elude him like many other things in life; happiness, a home, a family, somewhere he felt safe.

He thought, for a moment, maybe he had been a little jealous of Erik. That Jean didn’t have the right to take that away from him, no matter how much he would be missed.

Jean’s protective barrier didn’t seem to move him. Emotionally of course, because her raw power was enough to match Erik’s, and he could take the static in the air like the Kansas plains right before a tornado came through. How many people would he stand beside who were more convicted than him? What kind of hurts did they hold, and why did they hurt enough to bring Erik back? ( Why did he bring Erik back? )

“Hey, buddy - it’s — hey. Let’s not do anything drastic,” Like accidentally murder someone else, haha — “I know you’re angry. Totally get it,” Bruce slowly approached with scuffed dress shoes, each click of their rubber soles sounding like a gunshot in the suddenly too-quiet room. He couldn’t imagine having that kind of power - to make everyone notice when he was there and also when he wasn’t. “But you’re going to be really dehydrated in a hot minute if you don’t let me help you up, okay?”

Bruce spared a look for his two companions, and maybe Jean was right. Maybe he was someone who could understand what they’d been through. That if someone had to save Bruce from himself, he would at least want it to be someone he cared about. Clint, Tony, Steve. He would never ask Nat to do it - she’d been made enough times to be a stone-hearted killer, Bruce wouldn’t add to that.

Although he didn’t really know either of them well enough, he could tell when somebody cared enough to still be there after you’d disappointed them. Jean thought Erik would be disappointed, stayed anyway. Would anyone care enough to stick around for him too?

Gently, as if approaching a spooked animal, Bruce placed calloused fingers on an expensive funeral suit, surprised when he electricity in the room didn’t shock him on contact. The ever-present scientist in him placed that interesting tidbit of knowledge in a file for future examination. Maybe because Hulk’s skin was like reinforced rubber? Was he a grounding material? Could that be something helpful in the future, like making schools safer during storms, or for severe weather shelters for the homeless—

“If you want them to leave, they’ll leave,” Bruce promised, not looking back at the couple again. He supposed the situation really wasn’t about them.

ERIK: Everything was too much. His mind felt like it had been ransacked, left in tatters as his previous cohabitant had rifled through memories and motivations alike to trim down only to what was useful. Tweaking perceptions, ramping up the paranoia.

Not paranoid enough, some part of him noted wryly.

Bruce's fingers wrapped gently around his shoulder, tone and stance reminiscent of the way they used to handle shell-shocked soldiers. He stiffened under the touch, knuckles going white against the floor, but he didn't shake him off. Reached up and dragged himself to his feet again, even if he swayed, even if the room spun a bit around him and wavered black at the edges. He needed food, he needed water, he needed sleep.

More importantly, he needed to get out of the presence of the two people who had murdered him before he lost control entirely. Scott was standing there in silence, expression torn between surprise and guilt, and there was none of Erik that had the capacity to feel anything but disgust for the man right now. It didn't take a genius to put together who had led the charge in the silo, who'd been calling the shots. Scott was a good little soldier. A good little husband. "Bird got your tongue?" Scott didn't have the Phoenix anymore, that much was clear--guilt wouldn't be anywhere in his face if it was. But the point stood regardless, and Erik didn't care that Jean always got tetchy when he so much as breathed a negative word in Scott's direction.

(Somewhat hysterically, he wondered if he'd make her mad enough to kill him again. Maybe he should--the time between his death and now was rapidly flitting away from his mind, but he remembered warmth, remembered family, and part of him wanted to claw it back.)

Jean's words had him choking on a laugh, and Erik nearly snarled at her across the Cradle, fingers pressing dents into the metal. "If that's what you're worried about, why am I back?" he hissed. And oh, there were other questions that came crashing on him, then.

"FRIDAY," he said, because he wasn't sure he could trust anyone in this room except the machine he could feel thrumming in the walls around them. "What's today's date?"

"February 21, 2021, Mr. Lehnsherr."

February. Two months. Two months.

Scott Summers had been resurrected a week to the day from his death. Jean had been so grief-stricken, so heartbroken, that she had moved heaven and earth and death itself to bring him back after just a week without him.

Two months. He hated that there was a part of him that was wounded by that fact almost more than the murder itself. There had always been two reasons that he was kept around, two reasons that people kept him close: love or use. She hadn't brought him back because she missed him or because Lorna did, which meant she must need him to do something—

Lorna.

The world constricted once again, because Lorna wasn't here. Her father was being resurrected, and she wasn't here. Erik knew his powers could scarcely reach across the room let alone the bay, but g-d if he didn't try anyway, breath caught in his throat. He felt the room tip at the exertion before he stopped, kept upright only by the tight grip on the Cradle and Bruce's hand at his back.

"Where is Lorna? Where is my daughter?!"

If she was dead, and they'd brought him back to a world without her, he would drag them all back to the grave with him.

JEAN: She’d never been the kind of woman who lived on an island. Her mind was tattered, splintered into pieces that could cut intruders like knives, ever since the Phoenix rushed into her body so many years ago and refused to leave. Jean never made sense, she knew, to the people around her. She burned too bright or not at all. She went hot or far too cold. She was capable of almost pathological compartmentalisation, or she saw everything at once so the picture was too damn big for anyone else to understand. She loved and loathed in equal measure, and she was, above all else, not the kind of woman who was easy to digest. Easy to adore, perhaps, but so many people desired to get close to the fire before they truly knew what it meant to be burned. There were so few who saw the worst of her and stayed.

Scott was one of them. If anyone touched a hair on his head -- even someone she considered family, someone who was more blood than anyone else on the planet -- she would rip them into a thousand pieces and scatter them to the wind without hesitation, without guilt, without grief. But there was another person who looked at her in all her chaos, in her fear, in her self hatred and mania, and who said, this girl is worth trusting. There was another person who approached her in the wreckage of other people’s lives and said it wasn’t her fault, that she held a great gift inside of her, and the only way to control it was to refuse to control it, to embrace it instead.

Erik had been that person. Erik knelt down in front of a child and he reached to her even when the rest of the world was pulling back. He gave her a safe place to rest, gave her logic, pragmatism, gave her a path that she followed long after he was gone. And then he was on the other side of a battlefield, throwing buses at her friends and threatening everything the X-Men were fighting for, and she was told to defeat him at any cost.

Perhaps this was inevitable. Perhaps there could only ever be Jean alive or Erik. Maybe having them both here at once, occupying the same space, defied some kind of cosic deity -- defied the Phoenix. Because as Jean looked at Erik, her chest tightening and her throat burning, the Phoenix was conspicuously silent. Conspicuously void of opinion, for one of the first times in living history.

Then Bruce opened his mouth, and the bird came back to life. We could kill him next, she offered.

“We’re not killing anyone.” It took a breath, just a second, for Jean to realise she said those words out loud, that she’d turned her head to the side as if a friend was standing right there -- as if Maddie was beside her (why was she thinking of Maddie, now, as if she was a shadow? As if she was someone lingering, constantly, even when she wasn’t here physically? Was it because they’d done it together, the three of them, and so it made sense to picture her now?) Jean collected herself, levelled a look at Erik as her eyes burned, too.

She wouldn’t cry. She refused to. But God, it would be so easy to let those tears spill, to fall to her knees, to run towards him like she was an eleven year old girl who’d lost everything that mattered to her in the world and he had all the answers.

But he was insulting her husband. He’d threatened the safety, the peace, of their entire people. He messed with Kara’s head, threatened Rictor, almost started another World War. She couldn’t forget that.

“I didn’t want you dead, Erik,” she said, as simply as she could. There were a hundred other things she could say. She could tell him how she knew the Phoenix felt in him, how it twisted everything, how it made things so simple and so complicated all at the same time. She could vindicate him, could say this wasn’t his fault -- but the way he was looking at her now…

(Maybe there was always meant to be one, in the end.)

She knew where his mind went, when he asked for the date. “I didn’t want to use her,” she said, because he deserved something of an explanation. “I couldn’t.”

You could have. Haven’t I helped you before? Haven’t I made things so beautiful—

“We needed you back,” Jean said, “not someone else. I found another way. It took some time, but …” It worked, clearly. It worked so far as there was breath in his lungs now and color in his cheeks. If that was the definition of life, they’d succeeded -- but Jean knew it was far more complicated than that. “Lorna’s alive,” she continued. “She’s safe, and she knows we’re here. I wanted to make sure we were … that she stayed that way.”

The Erik she knew would’ve wanted her paranoid, if it came to Lorna. He would’ve wanted her to take every precaution when dealing with something as unpredictable as life and death. Yet, as she stood there looking at someone who felt as much like a stranger as he had on that very first day they faced off in the middle of New York City, she wasn’t entirely sure he would see it like that now.

SCOTT: Banner’s voice was like radio static, something there-and-not-there in a way Scott had grown accustomed to as a teenager when the world became like a television with no static and he began to understand why his mother locked herself in her room for days at a time, why she spent so many afternoons in bed. It shut out the world sometimes, made him his thoughts and nothing else. Banner was there. Erik was there. Jean was there. And Scott wasn’t. Scott was in a silo, in a hospital waiting room, in a grave. Banner was promising he’d leave as if he knew how, Jean was throwing a shield around him as if there was something left to protect, Erik was---

---Erik was speaking to him. The realization dawned slowly, like a wave lapping your feet on a beach, covering them with sand slowly and quickly all at once in a way you didn’t realize until the pressure was there cementing you to the ground. It took Scott’s mind a moment to catch up with his ears, a moment for the words to register. It always did, when he got like this. When the world was radio static and his mind hopped from one place to the next like Kurt’s teleportation, like a superpower that took him to every place he’d never wanted to be.

Bird got your tongue? The words came to him, slow and deliberate, and for a moment he felt like he was twelve years old, like he was standing in Essex’s lab with his arms stiff at his side and his eyes locked to his feet, like fingers would come in at any moment to grip his chin and force it upwards, force eye contact. (Essex was the last person he’d looked in the eyes before the world went red and a pair of lenses separated him from everything he saw. He thought of that sometimes, what it meant. What it said.) For a moment, there was an echo of another man’s voice, decades ago but just as cold, just as disgusted. Come on, Scott. You’re so much prettier when you smile.

He flinched. He didn’t mean to, but he did. And it wasn’t fair, he knew. Scott was not a victim here. (And maybe he hadn’t been a victim back then, either. Maybe Essex had never done anything he didn’t have coming. Maybe if he were better, smarter, easier to love, things could have been different. Maybe - ) Scott had killed Erik, had opened his eyes and turned the whole world red, and maybe Erik was angry now but he had a right to be. Scott Summers was not Zatanna Zatara. He was not Logan. He was not a person who had done a favor for a friend, not someone who was only doing what his would-be victim asked him to do. What he did was his choice, his decision. No one forced him. No one made him. And maybe he’d only damned himself to save Erik from the same fate, but that didn’t make him any less damned. Did it?

Scott stayed silent, and the world kept moving around him. Time went slower, he’d found, without the Phoenix coloring it. The loss of immortality made every moment a mountain, every second a marathon. He watched realization dawn in Erik’s eyes in slow motion, watched anger turn to grief turn to fear. And Jean spoke, but it wasn’t---

It wasn’t to Erik. It wasn’t to Banner, it wasn’t to Scott. It was to someone else. Scott could almost feel her in the room, like a phantom limb. The Phoenix. Had Jean ever spoken to her aloud before? (He had, towards the end. He remembered it. Pacing in his room, muttering to himself. It was one of the things that made him realize the line had been crossed, one of the things that made him realize he was going, going, gone. His heart dropped into his stomach and his chest felt tight. Jean had a handle on this. She had to. She had to.)

He tuned back in to the conversation, listened as Jean insisted that they’d done what they’d done to ensure they resurrected Erik and not something else. A strangled sound escaped from the back of Scott’s throat at that, and he cursed himself for drawing the attention back to him. Given the opportunity, Scott had always preferred to exist in the peripheral. To be seen and not heard, the way he’d been taught by his father, Essex, Winters. “If we’d taken shortcuts,” he said, because the attention was on him and if he didn’t make it seem like he had something to say then it might stay that way, “we wouldn’t have solved any problems. Take it from me, that isn’t… It’s not how you want to come back.” An apologetic glance to Jean, the echo of a statement he didn’t dare repeat. Maybe we were better off dead. “Lorna’s safe. You’re safe. Genosha, New York… It’s all safe. We just wanted to keep it that way. That’s all.”

BRUCE: Every word Scott breathed made Bruce’s chest feel tighter and tighter. Safe, like Erik wasn’t capable of controlling himself. Safe, as if something really got out of control, they couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t handle him.

If Erik had needed to be put down because he was a danger to society and he hadn’t even hurt anyone yet, then what did that make Bruce?

Unbeknownst to him, lost in his thoughts, Bruce’s skin under his lab-coat began to turn an eerie shade of green, spiderwebbing out from under his sleeve and onto the fist that gripped Erik’s suit, holding the man up like he was Bruce’s lifeline. “Don’t talk to him like that.” The words sounded echo-y and far-away, like someone had smashed pots and pans together beside his ears and just let them ring. His throat felt full, like he’d been drooling for days and had forgotten to swallow. If they loved him so much, then they wouldn’t have killed him when it became inconvenient.

Would they have?

Hulk roared in the pit of his stomach, startling him into a barely noticeable jump. Gripping Erik tighter, green creeping into the corners of his vision, Bruce managed a not-so-controlled, “I’ve got it from here. You guys’ve done enough, right?” He hated, how much like his father he sounded when his ridiculous Dayton-Ohio-accent came out with his words.

Hated feeling like a monster, in front of judgmental eyes. Bruce may not have known Jean or Scott very well, but he couldn’t trust them any farther than he could throw them. As Banner, anyway. “I’ll make sure he ‘stays out of trouble.’��� The words dripped with poorly hidden malice, maybe some misguided hurt, and he couldn’t hold eye contact with either of them anymore. Instead, he focused on Erik. Fed off of his exhaustion and hoped that maybe they could trade places. That maybe the next person that came knocking could put him down instead.

“FRIDAY? Can you make sure my floor is set to 75 degrees? He’s probably going to be a little cold, as tired as he is.” Licking his lips, Bruce cocked an eyebrow, still staring at the ground as if to say ‘Anything else?’

ERIK: Lorna's alive. It was buried in their responses, between excuses and explanations and lies he didn't care to hear, but it was there, nonetheless. Lorna was alive, and some of the panic that had filled his lungs like cement dissipated. Lorna was alive.

With that assurance, it was easier to focus on the rest of what they said. Safe, safe, safe, safe, safe....

(Alles ist gut, alles ist gut--)

And that was funny, wasn't it--absolutely hysterical, and the laughter bubbled up out of his chest before he realized it was coming.

We needed you back. Not someone else. (And it was needed, wasn't it, not wanted--)

It's not how you want to come back. The metal groaned under his fingers, lights flickering for as his voice rose. "What made you think that I wanted to come back?" he snapped, voice cracking for a moment. Just a moment.

Get it together. He cleared his throat, shook off the edges of black tinting his vision, marshalled his focus into staying on his feet. Don't show weakness. (Too late, too late, too late--)

"It doesn't really matter, does it? Because you needed me. And here. I. Am. My life was a problem. My death was a problem. How long do I get the floor this time, Jean?"

He stared across the Cradle at Scott, expression stuck in a strange space between anger and pity. "It was all for keeping everyone safe, hm? Is that what she told you to help you sleep at night, Scott? That you were making the world safe? No, no, no. You stopped me to keep everyone safe--fair enough. Can't begrudge you that. But that's not why you killed me. You killed me because you were angry. Because your chest was burning over Ric, over Kara, over Lorna, over all the failures of your fathers, and because you could take something in recompense. And because she told you to. Good soldier, good husband."

And then, for a moment, some of that anger edged back, some more of the pity filtering in, because Erik knew what it was like to love someone enough to do anything. "Did you realize you said almost the same thing she did, just now, hm? Did she notice?" A brief glance at Jean, before he looked back at Scott. They'd been sharing minds for years. Might be doing so now, even, and that had been the reason he'd never quite let Charles do the same--the fear of not knowing where your thoughts ended and theirs began.

"You and I both held the Phoenix, Scott. You know what it does, what it's like. How long has she been talking to it out loud? Do you feel safe, right now?" His head was starting to swim, the room growing more distant through the tunnel that was starting to settle in front of his vision, and Erik reflected absently that perhaps it wasn't the wisest of choices to be using so much oxygen on talking when his legs were barely keeping under him.

(You don't know when to quit-- oh, he owed Ric so much...)

He felt Banner's shift starting behind him, felt the radiation in the room spike, even through the dim grip he had on his powers at the moment. The man's voice, when it came, was strained, his grip tightening at Erik's back, and he would be lying if he didn't say it wasn't more than a little vindicating to hear the disdain with which the Avenger spoke to Jean and Scott.

He didn't quite get to express that, before the black won out.

JEAN: Jean had been angry her entire life. She’d been angry at what she wasn’t allowed to do, what she was, how she could go against the natural order of things and nothing ever seemed to come of it -- not until later, at least -- not until the sum of all her mistakes came crashing down in one fell swoop and she was left drowning at the deep end. But there was always someone who dove in, whether it was a backyard pool or the ocean during a raging storm, and that was Scott. Scott, who changed the world for her. Scott, who she changed the world for. Scott who killed a man when Jean asked him to, who would live and die for her, who promised to spend his life by her side regardless of whether she was beside him at the breakfast table or six foot under in a cemetery.

“Don’t speak to my husband like that,” Jean said, taking a step in front of Scott when Bruce shot him a glare. She didn’t come to the other scientist to be judged. She didn’t come here to be treated as the villain when she knew, deeply and instinctively, what the Phoenix was capable of -- how it changed people, twisted them up inside, changed them. She came here for one reason and one reason only, and he was standing in front of her now.

He was standing in front of her angry, but Jean knew him far too well to expect anything else, even if there was still a sickening disappointment swirling in her gut. “Because I always did,” she said, her voice quiet. Because she always would want to come back, regardless of what horrors were awaiting her the second air filled her lungs once more. Life would forever, constantly, be preferable to the lingering emptiness on the other side. “Because I thought--”

You didn’t deserve this. She wasn’t sure if he would hear it, if she was broadcasting it, if the feelings were leaking out of her like water from a cracked dam. “Because I’ve always needed you.”

Because it was her fault. The Phoenix wouldn’t be a part of their lives if it wasn’t for her decision on the shuttle at eighteen years old, a stupid child playing at being a god, a woman so desperate for approval from anywhere that she’d take sycophancy whispering in her head and preach it like gospel. “It wasn’t you, Erik. It wasn’t you any more than it was me on that lawn.”

He didn’t see that now. Maybe he never would. But Jean knew there was no other option, no other choice. Erik would admit himself there was nothing that could stop him from accomplishing his mission unless it was death. He was a man forged by soldiers’ cruelty, but he shared their pragmatism, their single-minded focus.

And then he kept talking, and the Phoenix roared to life in her mind -- almost laughing. Yes, it was laughing. It was bitter and cruel, but it was laughter, genuine amusement.

Oh look, she whispered, you brought him back insane.

“We were angry,” Jean said. “Of course we were angry. You violated the very principles we founded Genosha on when you threatened one of our own in a public place, for all to see. We were meant to be peaceful, a sanctuary. We were meant to be safety, and you turned it into your own personal battleground where you were judge, jury and executioner. You ripped apart the sanctity of a woman’s mind who is good and kind and honest in more ways than we could ever be, and you pointed a gun at the head of every citizen in New York and tried to justify it in a way that didn’t make you sound like Shaw.”

Because yes, that was in the notes she’d collected. Yes, that was in the memories he’d shared with her. Yes, she knew all about it -- and she knew that, if it came down to it, Erik would never become the monster that had ripped him apart and put him back together different than was ever intended. He wouldn’t wanted her to stop him. Her father would’ve wanted that.

Maybe this man wasn’t her father.

Bruce spoke again, and this time Jean let out a bitter huff of almost laughter. “Right,” she said, “because the Avengers are such a safe place for mutants, always have been. Remind me of all you did for our kind while you were parading the streets after your great victories and we were still hiding in backalleys, getting murdered for how we were born.”

(Jean never had a personal problem with the Avengers. She never understood why Scott burned with resentment towards what they represented, even if the people themselves weren’t to blame. She did now. Bruce stood there, on a pedestal despite his mistakes, looking down on them as if they were to pity. Like they were the monsters.)

“Erik, you belong at home. You belong in the place you helped to build. You belong in your own paradise. Come home, and we can be there or we can leave, but don’t--”

Don’t push us away. Not just Scott and Jean, which was inevitable, but the entirety of mutantkind that resided in the streets he’d pieced together. Everything he’d worked for, everything he’d sacrificed, and the Phoenix had torn it apart.

And then Erik hit the ground, and Jean was beside him in an instant, fingers going to the pulse on his neck as her other hand squeezed his arm.

Breathing? the Phoenix enquired. Jean nodded. How unfortunate. I thought we’d get to work together, again.

Jean looked back up at Bruce, at Scott, and slowly rose to her feet. Reluctant to leave him when the experiment was so new, so uncertain, and reluctant to leave him because everything within her screamed that was her family hurting, on the floor, aching.

“Take care of him,” Jean said to Bruce, reaching for Scott’s hand to intertwine their fingers together. Flames flickered, orange and purple at the tips, and formed a circle -- a circle she could see through, right back to their sofa and fireplace back in Genosha, right back to home where Rachel would no doubt be making cocoa in the kitchen. She’d never done that before.

Cosmic travel? Of course we have. You just forget. The human mind can only bend so far.

Jean squeezed Scott’s hand once more, knuckles white, and past the burning in her chest and throat she took a step into the portal, unsure whether she’d just healed a wound or created a new one.

[concrete-weed]

It’s hard to be a god (Malcolm Reed x reader)

summary: Reader pretends to be a goddess. Malcolm needs a hug.  trektober day 7- interspecies relationship                                                                    words:  1,877

read on AO3 here

-

When you first heard of the new "humans" your ship encountered, you mostly thought were quite brash, going into space with a barely finished ship and all, but during the weeks you lived among them, your opinion changed for the better. Humans are very different from your own species. Much louder for sure, but you eventually grew to like them.

The human ship was wrecked, their puppy dog approach to first contact wasn’t working so well. Starfleet had allowed four aliens to serve on Enterprise until the end of her mission, helping both diplomacy and the state of the human ship. Working on Enterprise has been a treat. You have been a doctor for three years. Working with doctor Phlox has offered many learning opportunities, so your career wasn’t suffering. Your social life, on the other hand, certainly was. You talked to the people you knew from your ship, but for the most part, they were in engineering while you were slaving away in med bay.

You had a friend in a few people, Hoshi, for example. You spent many lunch breaks helping her understand your language, not an easy task by any measure, and learning a human language called English. Through her, you have met most of the bridge crew. It was peculiar to watch them all interact.

One human, in particular, caught your eye, Malcolm Reed. He was a bit quiet for a human, which fascinated you. His dark hair and light eyes seemed majestic to you.  You knew that staring was considered rude by human standards, but the first time you met him it took Hoshi nudging you in the ribs to get you to tear your eyes off the mysterious human.

During your second month aboard Enterprise, captain Archer got a call from Admiral Forrest, saying that a planet 5 lightyears away is requesting immediate help with a medical crisis. All medical personnel were working day and night to find a cure, you being no exemption. For a week you were absolutely exhausted, so when captain Archer went down to your quarters to tell you were going to are on the away mission, you didn’t even register it until the debriefing.

“Okay, so this is a bit bizarre, ” God you were all so tired,” but the government insists that the locals will only accept our help if doctor L/N pretends to be their goddess of health.”

What?

“Half of the population already believes this is a gift from the gods anyway. I doubt you would need to make any change to your behavior.” Archer continued monotonously. With a civilization as evolved as theirs, he expected no interference from religion, no such luck.

“Excuse me, sir,” you said uneasily, “are you sure this is a good idea?”

“As much as I think that this is a ridiculous request to make of you doctor, I hope you will at least consider putting on this act. Malcolm and his men will be there if anything goes”.

Now you were here, standing in a long drapey light green dress. All of the away team was dressed in traditional clothing, leaving them a bit uncomfortable. The only people left in a Starfleet uniform were two security officers with phasers by their sides. Captain Archer insisted that the lieutenant needed to wear the strange clothes and respect the culture as the highest-ranking officer there. Malcolm’s clothes were similar to yours, the same shade of mint, the same writing along the edges of the garment. You unfortunately didn’t have time to think about what that meant. While doctor Phlox was teaching local doctors how to treat the deadly disease you were paraded around all the temples that were built in ‘your’ honor.

In them you saw many paintings that depicted the goddess and were eerily similar to you, almost all of them depicting the sick crying out to their goddess, hoping to be cured. The goddess was a little bit taller than you, her eyes a little more penetrating, even through the pictures, but essentially you were lead through the main room in that temple, looking at heart-wrenching scenes of yourself, saving the damned.  In some, the goddess was surrounded by other deities, her most common companion a shorter man, usually carrying a small child.

Finally, you got a break. Apparently, as the tour exclaimed, divine being needed to be given food before sunset, or the mortals around them would be punished. It seemed terrible to live like this, afraid of godly wrath every second of life but since you could do nothing you just went along with her.  She insisted that you should take your meals separately from your security detail, as the rest of the away party were all male. Malcolm pulled you aside from the woman.

“Are you sure this is safe? You will be alone in the dining hall.” Said Malcolm, pragmatic as always.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine. If anything is suspicious, I’ll just com you okay?” You answered hoping your voice sounded optimistic. You touched Malcolm’s upper arm in an attempt to comfort him. your gaze met his. You saw love in his brilliant blue-grey eyes. Or did you? Damn your wishful thinking. You quickly turned, walking back to the tour guide, you face a mask of calm, hiding your emotional turmoil.

The meal prepared for you was delicious but you couldn’t focus much on the conversation. Thankfully, your tour guide talked enough for the both of you.

“It is so wonderful you decided to come down to us! We have been awaiting your help for months.” you swore her nasal voice was going to drive you crazy, “My Lady, are you feeling okay?” you started stuttering out your answer but the guide cut you off. “Oh, you don’t have to explain yourself. We all have marital problems!” she added playfully. Marital problems?  

“Excuse me?” You hoped that your confusion won’t ruin the mission.

“My Lady, Archana? Oh, what does he go by now? Maco? Malcolm? Are you not married yet in this reincarnation?”

You remembered that during the tour the guide has mentioned that reincarnation was a major part of their mythology, still, the fact that she thought that you and Malcolm were married made your cheeks heat up. If you remembered correctly, the male deity, in this case, the god of protection, gave his life to protect his loved ones. The god will reappear in the next year, and the cycle will begin again.

“No. I’m afraid not,” you answered, trying not to choke on your drink.

“Well, I hope you find each other soon” she continued eating with a smile on her face.                                                                          

The meal continued in comfortable silence, your mind racing. Marrying Malcolm sounded like a dream, even if marriage was slightly different on your planet. Hoshi encouraged you to speak to Malcolm about your feelings, but the prospect of rejection terrified you. You preferred to live in this pathetic yearning state, maybe it was time to stop dreaming and take action.

-

Being back on the ship felt amazing but you were certainly nervous. For some reason ever since you got back Malcolm hasn’t even looked at you. His avoidance was becoming unbearable, the very second you entered a room he all but ran out. Your emotional side screamed each time but you wished to respect his wishes so you did nothing. Over time you felt worse and worse. You started working longer and longer shifts. Hoshi and Travis were starting to be worried. Dealing with heartache is unpleasant in the best conditions but dealing with it and being homesick, stuck on board an alien ship must be a thousand times worse.

Hoshi has convinced you to come to movie night. Before you could actually enjoy whatever old human movie, Trip put on you had to figure out what you had done to Malcolm and how you can reverse it. You cherished the unclear relationship that had been built between you and if you can’t be with Malcolm, at least you can be his friend. You may suffer but you would do anything to bring Malcolm happiness. Malcolm seemed sad to you. His smile not reaching his eyes, his body a little too tense.

You just got off your shift. You felt horrible, but if you stop now you will turn back to your quarters and never confront Malcolm. The dull grey walls seemed like they were closing in on you. You heard your heart beating. Malcolm was hard enough to get to know.  Letting him go is even harder.

The time you waited for his door to open felt like hours. Malcolm opened the door, hair messy from sleep. He seemed to awaken in seconds when he saw you, his eyes wide open.

“Listen, Malcolm,” your voice growing increasingly desperate, “I don’t know what I have done to offend you, humans are so confusing, but if you- “

His sarcastic chuckle caught you off guard. “You haven’t done anything. Please come in. We need to talk.”

Taking a deep breath, you walked in.

His room seemed vacant, almost militaristic. Everything was in its place. His clothes were perfectly folded and put away. What little pictures he had hanging completely straight. The room was almost shining, with no speck of dust visible. The only chair in the room was near Malcolm’s desk. You assumed he didn’t have much company over.

You stood awkwardly near the door, having no idea what you should do. You felt like an intruder in his space, your body taking up too much space. Malcolm seemed at ease. He sat down on his bed and gestured for you to sit down in the chair. He looked down, silent, thinking about his next move. God, it was a mistake to come here.

“I guess I owe you an explanation,” he stopped, taking a deep breath before continuing, “Remember when we went down to that planet? The one we helped with the plague?” you nodded slowly, “while you had to pretend to be the goddess of health, I had to be your,” he hesitated, “partner. The reincarnation of some god of protection, I believe. When we got separated some guards joined us. They didn’t think I was worthy of you, I’m afraid.” Malcolm’s voice quivered, seemingly trying to hold back the emotion currently showing. “To be honest, I agree with them.”

A tense silence fell over the room.  The engine’s hum being the only noise in the room. You moved to the bed and sat at Malcolm’s side, your shoulders touching. Malcolm looked at you, at little taken aback at your sudden move.

“I thought you were angry at me. I can’t convey how relieved I am Mal.” You said, not carrying if the happiness in your voice sounded strange, “I hope you know how amazing you are. That you’re valued and loved by your friends. I can’t convince you of that right now, I know, but I also hope that you will let me stick around and prove it.” You closed the distance between your lips, your heart beating against your chest. He kissed back softly, a bit awkwardly at first. You broke away, needing to take in air. Malcolm spoke:

“Have dinner with me?”

“of course.”

[lonelyroadrps]

💔😜🔪 Alex

💔 …someone who broke my muse’s heart.

Alexandria and Ellison met in the early days of college. Both vying for top marks in their class, competition sparked a relationship. They dated all through college, despite her tendency to be more detached he always seemed to understand. He’d been someone to turn to when she realized who her real father was. She trusted him, loved him. They’d even talked about marriage. After college, their relationship took a turn. Opting for a long engagement, their focus became establishing their name in the field. While Ellison joined a company run by a few of his friends from college, Alex had decided to open Heira tech with her roommate Hannah and the pair worked well as her premiere software hit the open market. 

As her business grew, things at home with Ellison struggled. Things that she had once brushed off as his competitive nature became a more noticeable issue with her place as a woman in the field. Though he pretended to be happy for her, his responses were often laced with passive aggressiveness as resentment built and when Daiyu suggested a prenup, the fight that ensured brought everything out into the light.. Alex left, leaving him the ring. They were far too young to get married. 

Though it hurt, she’d built up dozen excuses why things had turned after college. Stress from work. Her tendency to be detached especially when working. It wasn’t until a year later when the first blackmail demand came in the mail that her heart broke. Even after they separated, she had trusted him. However when she confronted him, he confirmed. He’d been so angry, he’d sold the information to some investigator hoping it would knock her down a peg or two. It only left her questioning the love she’d felt for him, the trust she’d put in him. She found herself distant in her relationships after that, pulling away before things got too serious. 

😜 …someone who makes my muse laugh.

When Hannah had forced her to hire an assistant, William stood out among the bunch. He was new to the field but eager to learn, but so were all the other applicants. It was his sarcasm that stood out. Being sardonic is a Fortier Family trait, it spills out of them far too easily, often earning a semi playful glare from Hannah. William however could keep up with her, his response quick and right on point, more than a few times earning a laugh or a smile. Their satirical displays, though meetings and around the workplace keep things light in the company. 

🔪 …someone my muse hurt in the past

Coya Vogel was a member of one of the richer families in Avignon and a competitor in the local Equestrian competitions. Despite being adversaries on the field, the pair often trained together. They developed a bit of a friendship over the years, if only just in those few hours at the stables. When they could, they would even meet before, taking their horses on a leisurely stroll in the prairie, a contrast to the rigid sessions of jumps. A break for all of them, time to talk, though Coya usually did most of the talking. 

Then one day, after Alex won what would be her last tournament, Coya embraced her in congratulations. Though not a bad move or even uncharacteristic, Alex abruptly pulled back. It wasn’t that she had minded the hug from Coya, but rather the bruised ribs she was diligently hiding, that and the indignation that she received more congratulations and affection from a competitor than her parents. Still the damage was done, a spurn of her friend, in public. In their circles, they had to be quick to save face. 

Coya pulled away, though Alex reached out a few times to explain, there was no good explanation she could really give. The pair drifted apart. It wasn’t until years later that they ran into one another on vacation in Peru, that the pair managed to renew their friendship. The situation was long forgotten and they have kept up with eachother’s lives. She was even present for Coya’s wedding to her wife, Lilah.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 33

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​

It’s six thirty in the morning when he steps out onto the front porch; barefoot and blurry eyed, still clad in just a pair of boxer briefs, cup of coffee in one hand and phone in the other.  After Nik’s call he’d fallen into a restless sleep; dreaming of Dhaka and the night at Gaspar’s house when he’d been given the five million dollar deal. This time he’d made a different decision; willingly giving both Ovi and Esme up in exchange for money and his freedom. Asif had been there, sitting in a darkened corner; watching and listening. A pleased, victorious smile on his lips as his right hand man brought over his two new favourite playthings. They’d been drugged; minds and eyes hazy, their movements sluggish and uncoordinated.  He’d had a change of heart at the last moment; offering his life in exchange for hers. Begging and pleading with Asif to ‘take me instead of the girl’.  Asif had just laughed, then grabbed her by the hair and forced her to look at Tyler. Mocking her, telling her to look at the big, strong man now; crying like a baby and bargaining to save her. How did that make her feel? Knowing he could be so weak? That she was the one capable of making him that way? Is that really what she wanted? Someone so pathetic? Or did she want a real man like him. Then he’d his hand had moved to her throat; fingers digging into the soft flesh with enough power and pressure to steal her breath. And he’d kissed her. Savagely. Brutally.

And she’d kissed him back.

Tyler woke up breathless; near sobbing. Tears spilling down his cheeks,  his heart thundering, and chest aching. Initially panicking at the unfamiliar surroundings and bolting upright, wide -almost terrified- eyes taking in everything around him; the furnishings, the color of the walls, his old friend sleeping soundly across the room, the cattle dog sitting beside the couch, curiously watching him.  And it hadn’t been until he’d glanced out the window and caught sight of the mountain range, tree line, and brush that reality had finally settled in.  He was no longer in Dhaka. Not at Gaspar’s outside the city limits.  It was seven years ago. Not now. He’d turned down the offer and Asif hadn’t been there; he’d never laid a hand on her and he’d never kissed her. None of that had ever happened. Just his mind -broken and in tatters- playing tricks on him. They’d made it out of Bangladesh. She was saife. At home. In bed. THEIR bed.

He’d been tempted to call; just to hear her voice; needing that extra bit of reassurance that everything was fine. SHE was fine. But he knew what the mornings could be like; up before the sunrise with the baby, then tending to Declan and getting breakfast made and three kids up and ready for school. Ovi would be there; promising to keep an eye on things and lending a hand whenever it was needed. Kyle couldn’t be relied on; too busy getting his rocks off with Salena. Or whatever the hell her real name is. And Tyler had briefly wondered if getting into Kyle’s life had been part of whatever the new neighbor was up to; a way of weaseling her way into their lives for some fucked. The uncertainty eats at him; knowing that something isn’t quite right yet not being able to prove it or get the information that he needs. Way too many things pointing towards trouble; the Jeep with the stolen plates and the driver with the earpiece that had been watching him and the kids. Salena getting out of the passenger seat with a stack of folders under her arm and no record of her actually existing. All the ingredients, everything needed, to create a huge goddamn mess.

His head throbs. A mixture of lack of sleep and not eating properly. The cravings are intense. When he’d gone into the kitchen to make himself a coffee, he’d been greeted by all the whisky and scotch bottles that littered the counters and shelves; some empty, others half full, a handful still sealed.  And his hands had been shaking as he’d considered it; one on a glass and the other around a bottle of scotch. His brain exhausted from dealing with the nightmare,   trying to piece together the bullshit with the neighbor, and the call from Nik and the threats she’d made.  A single wouldn’t hurt. That’s what the demon on his shoulder had been telling him. That he could stop at just one and walk away; get enough to satisfy the craving, get the taste of it on his lips and tongue.  And he’d been close. So close. Seconds away from pouring the scotch into a glass.  And then as quick as the desperation and the need had come, it had disappeared. Leaving him feeling  weak and shamed and completely disgusted with himself.

Now he sits on the edge of the porch, feeling ground with his feet pressed against the damp earth. It had rained considerably last night; puddles of mud, lower temperatures, and a fresh and familiar earthy smell in its wake. Sadie hasn’t left his side since he’d arrived yesterday; now pressed tightly to him, chin resting on his thigh as he sips his coffee and checks his text messages and emails. Skipping over the angry rants left by Nik and the irritated ‘clearly out of fucks’- one that Yaz had contributed. Tyler hasn’t heard from him since New Zealand; the one other man taking it as a personal slight that he’d given it all up and walked away without even a glance back.

There’s dozens of emails from the contacts he’d reached out to; mercs wanting to work for him and offering their services, retired guys wanting to get back into the game, people who can supply him with weapons and ammo and every other accessory and piece of technology he can imagine.  Even mail from former clients; guys he’d done jobs for and had been so impressed with his efficient -and successful- work. They’re pleased  that he’s not only   back in action, but that he’s actually still alive. They have resources for him; supplies, money, names and numbers of other high profile people that may need some work done.  And he sees the emails that his wife has returned, smiling as he reads her replies; concise, confident, intelligent. As if she’s never spent a single moment away from the job; smoothly and effortlessly transitioning back into her old life.

It won’t be easy; balancing the job and running a business while trying to keep a marriage afloat and raise five kids. But there’s no doubt in his mind that they can do it. They’re stronger together than they are apart; they always have been. And if they can survive the past seven years -especially his addiction issues and a six month separation that should have broken them-, they can survive anything.

He sends a text message. Telling her how much he loves her. Misses her. How he can’t wait to see her. That he’s proud of her. Not just the way that she’s handling the business side of things, but EVERYTHING.  The way she’s always fought for them. For HIM. How she raises his kids. Pouring his heart out with every letter that appears on the screen. He’d not normally that ‘type’, grand displays of affection and sincere, romantic words not his strong suit.  But the nightmare -especially the way Asif had kissed her and she’d reciprocated- has left him feeling unsettled; needing to get things off his chest. The things he feels but always struggles to say.

She quickly sends a text in response. I LOVE YOU. SO MUCH. WE MISS YOU.  Accompanied by a selfie of herself and Millie lying in the middle of their bed, both with sleepy smiles and messy hair and hands down the two most beautiful girls in the world. And he thinks of what Koen had said; about how lucky he is and that any woman who would stuck his side -through everything- was a woman worth holding onto him. She could have easily left that day on the bridge; he wouldn’t have blamed her if she did. But she’d ignored Nik and stuck around and put her own ass on line in an attempt to save his. And that’s nothing you easily thank someone for.

“You really are out of your damn mind,” Koen grumbles, as he wanders out onto the porch, his own cup of coffee in his hand; hair messy from sleep and eyes stilly glassy from all the booze he’d consumed. “Up at these hours of the morning.”

“This is pretty normal for me. Has been since I got clean.”

“Probably used to getting up with the rugrats,” Koen reasons, and takes a seat beside him. “Everything okay?” he nods down at the phone still clutched in Tyler’s hand. “At home?”

“Yeah. Everything’s good. Just checking in on everyone. Making sure they haven’t driven their mom crazy yet.”

“She must already be crazy. Having that many kids with the likes of you. How the hell she puts up with you is beyond me. I’d only be able to stand looking at that ugly mug for so long.”

“You must not look in the mirror very often.”

Koen smirks. “Smart ass. You always were quick with the shit head comments. Thought maybe all that oxygen you were deprived of might have slowed you down a bit. But here I am, dealing with your crap.”

“Admit it. You missed me.”

“About as much as I miss my two ex wives,” Koen scoffs, and then digs a playful elbow in Tyler’s ribs. “You miss it? Living out here?”

“Not really. I have a better life now. A nice place right on the beach. Tons of property. Perfect for raising kids. Wouldn’t have been able to do that out here. We probably would have tried, bt…” he sips his coffee and shrugs. “...we’re happy where we are.”

“Smartest thing you ever did; coming home. No better place to bring up a handful of kids, if you ask me. It’s weird as hell though,” he chuckles. “You doing the whole daddy thing all over again. Never thought I’d see the day, to be honest.”

“Neither did I,” Tyler admits, and he thinks about the picture he’d received just minutes before. Millie with her messy, unruly hair and those huge blue eyes that crinkle at the edges when she smiles. How’d he cried when she’d been born and a nurse had placed her in his arms; tears of both relief that she’d made it safely and immense gratitude that he’d been given that chance again.

After Austin had passed away and his marriage disintegrated, he’d thought that it was it for him. His life had been a mess...HE’D been a mess...and he couldn’t imagine meeting someone that he’d be able to have that kind of experience with. That he’d trust enough to let his guard down around and that could tolerate him and his bullshit long enough to actually fall in with him. That he’d ever find someone to fall in love WITH.

“She’s going to be a heart breaker that one,” Koen says. “The oldest. Those eyes of hers? All the boys are going to be tripping over themselves to get to her.”

Tyler frowns. “They’re going to have to get through me first.”

“Poor bastards. They’re going to be scared shitless when they walk up the house and you’re the first one out to greet them. I feel for them; trying to date a girl that has you as their father. They’d have no clue that you’re capable of tearing them in half.”

“Anyone touches either of my girls, no one will ever find their bodies. No boyfriends. No dates. No dances. None of that. No one is getting close to them. Ever.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Koen chuckles, and takes a swallow of coffee. And for several minutes they sit in silence;   enjoying the feel of the breeze and the smell of fresh, damp earth.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” his friend says. “With the whole merc business. I thought one brush with death would be enough. Apparently not.”

“Things will be different this time. I won’t have to go out in the field as much. Only if things really go to shit.”

“Don’t they always go to shit?”

“Sometimes. Dhaka was the worst, but it wasn’t the first time things went wrong and it won’t be the last. Hopefully we can avoid that level of shit show. I know what I’m doing. I’m not some rookie going into this blind. It was my life for years.”

“But why do you need it to be your life now? Look what you’ve got going for you. You’ve got a wife and little ones. Stability. Why put all that on the line for who you used to be?”

“You having second thoughts?”

“Nope. I said I’m in, I’m in. I’m just worried about you. I don’t you throwing your life away. I don’t want you losing your kids and that pretty little wife of yours. You got a thing going. A damn good thing. You don’t need to fucking that up.”

“It’s something I need to do,” Tyler says. “I need to get back out there. Get back that piece of who I was. I need to feel like I’m doing something worthwhile with my life.”

Koen frowns. “You don’t think you are? Doing something worthwhile?”

“What am I doing? I don’t have a nine to five job. No skills outside of what I learned in the military and on the job. I pick up odd shit here and there. Nothing steady. I spend more of my time in the gym or out in the water or spending time with my wife.”

“And you’re complaining about that last part? Spending time with the likes of her? What the fuck is wrong with you? Give her to someone who’d appreciate her then.”

“I’m not complaining. Far from it. I’m just saying there needs to be something more to this life. I feel like I need to be doing something more. I need to feel useful again. Like I’m not just washed up, broken down ex soldier with a drinking problem.”

“You’re a husband. And a dad. You help raise little human beings. There’s nothing useless about that. You should be sitting back enjoying your life. Appreciating what you have right in front of you. How you gonna feel if all this blows up in your face? If things go to hell and you lose everything? What the hell you gonna do then?”

“I don’t know. Put a gun in my mouth?”

Koen scowls. “I’m being serious, mate.”

“So am I.”

“All I’m hoping is that you got your shit together and you know what you’re doing. Because this is some serious stuff here. Getting back into being a merc. And you’ve got a lot to lose now. You’ve got everything to lose. That’s all I’m saying.”

Tyler smirks. “When did you become so sensitive and sentimental?”

“Don’t be a dick about this. I’m just worried about you. I don’t want you going back into this and losing what you have. Because you finally got your shit together and got a life that’s worth living.”

“I appreciate you worrying about me and all that, mate. I do. But I’ve got it under control. I know what I’m doing. This isn’t going to be like last time. I won’t let it be.”

Koen sighs. “You always have been a stubborn sonofabitch.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Tyler insists. “And I wouldn’t be doing it if I couldn’t handle it. Things will be alright. Esme and I are in this together. We’re on the same page. We’re not going to let this break us.”

“I hope not,”  Koen says. “Because I don’t think you’d survive that.”

***

His flight arrives on time, touching down shortly before noon hour at Cooktown airport. She parks the truck on the tarmac and waits; a pair of aviator style sunglasses covering her eyes, fingernails drumming against the steering wheel. She gives the pilot a small wave and a pleasant smile when he nods in her direction; they’d met briefly two days before, when he’d come to the house after Tyler had sought out his help.  Short and broad shouldered; brown hair cropped tightly to his head and kind green eyes that sparkle when he smiles. The quintessential ‘boy next door’ with his youthful wholesome good looks and his khaki pants and crisp white golf shirt.  Quite the juxtaposition compared to Tyler; all power and muscle and the tattoos and scars that tell of a hard life spent living on the edge.  

This is the furthest she’s ever gotten into the job; not only helping organize and run things, but the acquiring of weapons and ammo and other supplies, and the handling of money -big money-  aside from her own payouts. It makes her anxious; knowing that she’s one of two people that others will come to now. Instead of being approached with work and offered jobs,  now she’s in charge of finding and assigning them. Gathering intel had been one thing; she’d spent years honing those skills. Being boss is an entirely different animal all in itself.

So much for not getting ‘too involved’.

Four large and heavy locked trunks are placed in the bed of the truck, followed by several smaller duffle bags that are loaded into the back seat. All containing a shockingly generous amount of automatic and semi automatic rifles and handguns, various types of grenades and their launches, knives, and utility vests. Whatever immediate gear that a merc would meet. All would be placed in a storage facility on the outskirts of town, save for a handful that would be kept in the two locked and secure  gun lockers  that already exist at home; one in their garage and the other in the attic.

Once things are safely loaded, an envelope of money is exchanged. Everything being handled off the books; no paper trail that can connect the pilot to the or the very illegal transport of weapons. You never know who is watching. Now that word has gotten out and spread like wildfire, support and interest are pouring in. But it isn’t just the good-intentioned that are paying attention; a man like Tyler Rake burns a lot of bridges and makes a lot of enemies. Evil, dangerous people who feel as if he wronged them and have been holding onto grudges and fantasizing about revenge.

“Hey,” she cheerfully greets, as he slides into the passenger seat. “How was the flight? How…?”

His mouth is on hers before she gets the rest of the words out; a hand tangling in her hair as he aggressively pulls her into him.  The kiss is long and soft and sweet at first; his lips bearing a hint of coffee and a touch of mint. But then things quickly take a more intense turn; his tongue pushing its way way into her mouth, the miss much more ravenous and needy. Desperate.

“Wow…” she breathes, when he pulls away, forehead briefly resting against hers before his lips brush against the bridge of her nose. “...what was that for?”

“I wanted to kiss my wife. That’s not allowed?”

“Of course it’s allowed. And encouraged. But that was...intense. That wasn’t your usual ‘back after only twenty four hours’ kiss. That was your ‘I’ve been gone for two or three weeks’ kind of kiss.”

“Guess I just missed you.” he reasons, and then presses his lips to her temple before settling back into his seat and reaching for the belt.

“Okay, something is going on. You kissed me like THAT and you’re letting me drive your truck?”

“You had to drive it here, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but you’re here now and it’s your baby and usually…”

“It’s just a truck,” he says with a shrug, and buckles his seat belt.

“Something is definitely going on with you.”

Tyler chuckles. “There’s nothing. I didn’t sleep well last night and I have a killer headache and it’s probably just better if you drive. That’s all.”

“Do you have a killer headache because…?”

“I wasn’t drinking iof that’s what you’re going to ask. I stayed sober. I told you I wasn’t going to be like that again and I meant it.”

“What was the dream about?”

“Can’t remember. I just know it was fucked and I don’t want to have it again.”

Her eyes narrow as she watches him, noticing the way he grimaces when he stretches his legs out in front of him and the frown on his face as he rubs at his troublesome knee. The scar is long and jagged; starting three inches above and stopping four inches below. There’d been complications; the surgeon discovering more damage, bone fragments and scar tissue than he’d initially expected and having to not only replace the knee, but repair ligaments and tendons that were nearly severed.

“What’s this about?” She reaches over to tussle his hair. The length on the top is the same as when he’d left, but the sides and back now shaved as close to the skin as possible.  High and tight; a Marine cut.  

“Just something I thought I’d try.”

“You’re going back to the old hair aren’t you,” a slow smile spreads across his face. “You’re going to let the top grow out.”

“It’s the look you liked the most, yeah? Now you can’t say I never do anything nice for you.”

“Baby…” she leans across the space between their seats and presses a kiss to his cheek; his beard still full yet trimmed and tidier. “...you’re the best. You know how to keep your girl happy.”

He grins. “Sometimes.”

“All the time,” she says, and places a kiss to the corner of his mouth before settling back into her seat and starting the ignition.  A companionable silence falling between them as they pull out of the hanger and head for home.

****

“ARE you okay?” Esme asks several minutes later.

“Fine,” Tyler replies, his head tilted back against his seat, eyes closed; one hand on his stomach, the other on her thigh, thumb continuously brushing against her skin.  “Just tired. It was a long night. Couldn’t fall asleep and when I did, I had that fucked up dream.” “And you don’t remember what it was about?”

“Nope. It wasn’t one of the usual ones, though. Never had this one before. But it was messed up. I remember that much.”

How do you explain a dream like THAT? That you’d been  willing to sacrifice someone’s life for five million dollars; knowing that a drug lord would have used and abused them  in horrific and degrading ways before killing them? She doesn’t even know about the whole truth about what happened at Gaspar’s. For nearly seven years she’d assumed that the deal had been for Ovi; that Gaspar had been hell bent on killing him and Tyler refused to give the kid up and all hell broke loose.

“Hmmm…” she turns her full attention to the road, chewing absentmindedly on her bottom lip. She’s used to this; his constant need to keep everything inside and shoulder every single burden on his own. It’s his protective nature; not wanting to add any extra stress or worry to her already overflowing plate. “...and things went okay?”

“Everything went fine. Got Koen on board, got everything we need to get started. Things went good. Place doesn’t even look the same anymore. Not inside, anyway.”

“And he’s still okay with letting us stay there?”

“Yup. Just said to make sure we change the sheets. Said he doesn’t want to be lying in our ‘business’.”

She laughs at that.

“Did Nik call you?” he casually and calmly asks, hand sliding onto the inside of her thigh; fingertips against the bare skin just below the hem of her shorts.

“Nik? Why should she call me? I’m probably the last person she wants to hear from after that night at the restaurant. I’m sure she blames me for Kyle calling things off.”

“Well in all fairness, you did kind of instigate the whole thing. Hooking him with the neighbor. Even after I told you to stay out of it and mind your business.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault it was instant lust between them. We know all about that, don’t we.”

He grins.

“But no. She didn’t call. That’s kind of a weird thing to ask, About Nik.”

“She called me,” Tyler admits, and he notices the way both of her brows arch. “Last night. I only answered because I thought it was you and that maybe something was wrong at home.”

“Why would she call you? Was she having a lonely night? Wanted to have phone sex?”

“I didn’t have the energy. I’d already had phone sex with you, so…”

“Boy that must have broken her heart; the fact you keep shooting her down. Maybe she feels if she keeps bugging you enough she’ll wear you down and you’ll give in.”

“Not gonna happen. I already told you; I’m not a cheater. I don’t want anyone else but you. And she actually called to give me shit. I guess word travels faster than we thought it would.”

“Well it was going to happen sooner or later.”

“Later would have been nice.”

“I take it she wasn’t happy.”

Tyler smirks. “That’s one way of putting it. She lost her shit. She’s taking it personally; thinks I did it to purposefully fuck her over and put her out of business.”

“Mercs are jumping ship left, right, and center. I can’t keep up with all the messages and the emails. She’s not going to have anyone left.”

He shrugs. “Guess she shouldn’t have let things go to shit.”

“They went to shit seven years ago when she made the decisions she did. That should have been the end of it; when she was so willing to leave you on the bridge to die. She totally fucked you. And not in a good way. Like whose dick is she sucking that she keeps her job?”

A grin tugs at the corner of Tyler’s mouth. “You’re feisty today.”

“I hope you do put her out of business. I hope she loses everything. Because she fucking deserves it. She’s done a lot of shitty things and I’m glad karma is finally biting her in the ass.”

“She’s not going to go down without a fight. She’s pretty pissed. And pretty determined to make my life hell.”

Esme frowns. “She said that? That she’s going to make your life hell?”

“Not in so many words.”

“Well what did she say? Did she threaten to show up and kick your ass? I’d love to see her try.”

“She just said some shit. About us. When I said something about how my wife and my kids will always be around, she made a comment about how she’ll ‘see about that’.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. But I told her I wasn’t fucking around. Don’t threaten my family. It didn’t end well for the last person who tried it and it won’t end well for her.” “Nk hardly seems the type that would hurt kids. There’s no doubt in my mind she’d come for me. She’s been wanting me out of the picture for a long time. But to do something to hurt the kids? I can’t see her stooping that low.”

“I don’t think it was a physical threat. Nik’s all about screwing with peoples’ heads. Look what she did to me. She knew I was messed up and she knew exactly what buttons to push to get me to do what she wanted.”

“You think that’s what it is? Psychological warfare? Because she’s never gone up against me and that's a  battle I will not lose. I’ve gone up against bigger and better than her and I’m still here to tell about it. Besides, what could she possibly say that would bother me that much? After everything I’ve been through in the past seven years? Nothing could unnerve me that badly that it would screw things up between us. Look at everything we’ve been through. That shit we’ve survived.  She doesn’t even know HALF of it. Trust me, there’s nothing she could say that could hurt us.”

“It’s Nik. She’ll make shit up if she has to.”

“She can save her breath. I know all your deepest and darkest secrets. So if she thinks she has something to surprise me, she’s got another thing coming. I do, right?” she casts him a sidelong glance. “Know everything I need to know?”

“There’s nothing I haven’t told you. I told you most of it in the first couple of days. Everything else you’ve lived through with me.”

“Then let her make shit up,” Esme shrugs. “I think I trust you word over hers. After everything she’s pulled,  I wouldn’t believe a goddamn word she says. And the fact she’d even threaten you? Like, she knows who she’s talking to, right? Someone who killed two people with one garden rake. That’s really who she wants to go up against?”

“She probably thinks I won’t retaliate. I don’t give a shit what history we have. You don’t threaten my family. Ever.”

“Normally I’d tell you you’re being paranoid and you’re way too overprotective, but this side of you is kind of hot.”

He grins. “Kind of?”

“Totally hot,” she admits, then giggles and shoves his hand away when he slides it towards her crotch. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“What’s gotten into you the last few days? You’re a little...I don’t know...assertive...when it comes to the whole sex thing.”

“I’m not allowed to want to have sex with my life? First I can’t kiss you a certain way, now I can’t have sex with you either?”

“It’s not that you can’t. You’re just a little more...demanding...than usual. Needy.  Needy is a good word for it. And we’ve always had a lot of sex but lately, you’ve just been...extra...about it.”

He gives in an amused smirk. “I’m extra?”

“In a good way,” she assures him.

“Look, I love you. You’re beautiful. You’re sexy. And I want to fuck you. So…”  his hand once again slides along her thigh, slipping under the leg opening of her shorts. Fingertips grazing against the edge of her simple cotton pants. “...when we get home, that’s what we’re going to do. Fuck.”

“Addie and Declan are there. Ovi’s watching them.”

“Send them to his place. Tell him we need half an hour kid free. He’ll know what that means.”

“A half an hour?” she playfully inquires. “When has it only taken half an hour?”

“I’m in a mood,” he replies, and slides a finger under her panties, and she swallows noisily and her entire body tenses when it pushes through her folds and grazes over her clit.

“Obviously. And you’re going to put me in a mood!” She squeezes  her thighs shut, trapping his hand between them. “Stop! I’m trying to drive!”

“Just relax. Let me do this.”

“You’re crazy!”

“Come on…” he grins. “...do it. I know you want to. It’s something we’ve never done before. You can’t tell me you don’t want to try. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Oh I don’t know, Tyler. I could crash and kill us both and our kids would be orphans. That’s pretty much the worst.”

“Do it…” he encourages. “...open your legs...let me do this for you...let me make you feel good.”

She glances at him out of the corner of her eyes.

“Our little secret,” his grin widens. “I promise.”

“You're insane. You really are.”

“Maybe. But I can feel how wet you are. “I know you want it just as much as I do. Just do it. Just this once. Let me to this for you.”

She sighs heavily, thighs releasing the grip on his hand.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, swallowing noisily when he slips another finger between her folds, watching her face as the tips press against her clit. Noticing the flush that creeps into her cheeks and the tips of her ears, the way her teeth dig painfully into her bottom lip.

“You really are a bad influence,” she half-heartedly complains.

“Yeah,” he agrees, as his fingers continue their ministrations.  “But you love me though.”

She doesn’t even attempt to deny it.

[gotmeringinghellsbells]

The Best Dad You Could Be

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Shoto Todoroki/Midoriya, Yamato Todoroki (Oc)

A/N: This fanfiction contains an oc for my next generation au and a little back story. Yamato is the only son of Yaoyorozu, and eldest of Todoroki. He loves both of his parents, and the two stay friends even after their divorce. There is no hate to ships on this blog.... well.... Mineta is another story.  

Description: Shoto has always had doubts about being a parent since his son was born. As he grew, he didn’t have much time to dwell on the possibilities of being a bad parent. But as life settled down he began to think more about it and asks his husband if he’s doing it right. Deku, only able to compare Shoto to All Might, gets an idea . He needs to show a little more emotion around the babe. 

_

When Shoto Todoroki found out he was going to be a father, joy was the least of his emotions. He was terrified. It wasn’t the failing marriage he was in, or the partner he had, but the fear of being a good father. He feared being…. his father. 

For about a year him and Momo cared for their son together before deciding it would be best to go separate ways. It wasn’t until he left that he realized she was a key balance in his confidence. Her fear, her insecurities of being a mother, of working with a child lead Shoto to be the best father he could be! However, he didn’t know where to go, and Yamato wanting to be with him more than Momo made it even harder!

]He refused to go back to his father with Hawks and Toya there, let alone Endeavor. His mother had her own studio apartment, but…. As heartless as it sounded, Shoto didn’t want his mother alone with his baby. He loved her to pieces but Yamato had more features that resembled his father than Shoto did. 

Between that and him waking up his mother every hour with crying, Shoto just couldn’t do it! Iida was busy with his career taking off, Urakara was busy too. Deku was the only one not under an agency but…. Shoto didn’t want to bother anyone. From Momo’s fear, from Shoto’s situational confidence, Yamato wanted his daddy; which made this all so much harder. 

Momo’s parents didn’t exactly want to take in their former son-in-law either. They would have let their daughter stay with them until she could get back on her feet, but Shoto gave the house to her. From his kind act…. He was now screwed over. 

It turned out showing up at the Midoriya’s was the best choice he could have made as they were quick to take him in. The living space was small but he’d make due with what he could and wouldn’t complain. The hardest part was trying to keep everything from his boss…. his father. Endeavor planned to retire, and for Shoto to take over he had to work under him. 

The poor guy was exhausted, sleeping through baby cries and waking the house. More than once he’d woken up form All Might or Inko trying to calm his small babe as he lay in bed, leaching the heat off of Midoriya. He’d apologize and quickly try to take over before being pushed back down into bed. The two cared for the poor guy, Inko being able to relate to his situation. He was trying so hard to parent, to be the best dad he could while working his way out of his current living situation.  

But it was one cold, winter night that would change all of that for him. Once more he’d slept through Yamato’s crying, but this time neither older adult came to the babe’s aid. Midoriya woke, not being able to sleep too much as it was. He climbed out of bed and picked up his crying roommate before sitting back on the bed and just…. Soothing him. He was talking to him, trying to lul him back to sleep after he’d calmed. 

Midoriya found him to be the cutest little thing, so goofy and particular. He would ponder what Yamato’s quirk would be, which parent he’d look like more as he aged. It was just fun thoughts to have after a day of intense work. When Shoto woke to see the other coddling his son, he felt it in his heart. Resting a head on Midroiya’s shoulder after failing to retrieve his son from the older, Shoto finally felt secure again for the first time in a while. 

They took off as a family, money was coming in, they had their first place until they saved enough for a final home. They were a family. But…. unlike Momo, Izuku was confident; to an extent, he’d have small bursts of panic that Shoto had to fix but he was still someone Yamato felt secure with. Something Shoto still didn’t feel sometimes, like today.

He lay in bed, relaxing on his day off, just watching as his now two-year-old told his hand and bend each finger. He was truly curious about how things worked, it was adorable. His chubby little face would scrunch up, a small pout would be present, and his brows would furrow more and more as he tested new things. “What are you learning today, hm? You now how fingers bend.” Momo said she’d do this to her too, whenever she had him. 

“Yeah but it’s a new day, something may have changed,” a new voice hummed out with a yawn. Deku rolled over to curl into his husband’s back as the tot ignored them in the name of discovery. “Oh? Is that true? Excuse me Yamo,” the father teased before poking the little one with his free hand. Yamato looked up before looking slowly to the finger that touched him and pushing it away. He didn't like to talk much during his new discoveries, otherwise Shoto would have gotten a talking to. 

The father laughed before sighing. He didn’t like to talk insecurities in front of the child but…. He couldn’t always get away from him to release his emotions. “Zuku.” Deku hummed as he held his heater and cooler closer. “I’m…. doing this right, right?” Deku scrunched up his face a bit before sleepily popping up on the smaller’s shoulder. "Doing what right?” Shoto motioned to his baby who was now trying to get his hand to act like a spider. 

“I mean…. Yeah. You put him before everything, you always take time to make sure he knows right from wrong, you do all the right parenting things.” The step father tried to think. He didn’t have someone to really compare Shoto too. As much as All Might was a distant dad figure to him (even if he was his step father now), from interviews you couldn’t tell how one would parent. 

But there was something that always assured Izuku he was safe, that things ould be okay. “I mean…. You don’t show that much emotion around him.” He really didn’t. Momo did, Jiro did, Izuku did, almost everyone but Shoto did; yet little Yamato followed his father’s example most of the time and was just…. blank faced. “Is that so?” The green bean nodded, hair tickling his husband’s bared neck. 

“Ihahzuku,” the now second pro hero giggled. “ Mmm…. see? You need to smile more, Yamato agrees.” Shoto looked forward to his babe that was now grinning ear to ear. “Dada ticklish?” The babe looked so happy it squeezed at Shoto’s heart. Crap. “Izuku, don’t you eve- pfff! MMmmmmmm!” The male tried to resist the feeling on his stomach, squirming around as he was held closer. 

“Comeon Sho-kun, Yamo wants to see your smile! You wanted to improve your parenting. Step one is smiling more!” Poor man was trapped between his worst tickle monsters, one already attacking. “Zhahahahauku!” Shoto let loose, his son’s laughter joining his as he scooted forward to try and help.

He tried tickling Shoto’s nose, earning more high pitched giggles as the man tried to turn his face away. “That’s it Yamo! We gotta save dada from the sad villain!” The boy squealed adorably as he tried to move on to the cheeks. The cute look of determination and attempt to gain a reaction gained the reaction alone as Deku stopped. He was so cute!

“That’s it, your doing it kiddo! Your saving dada!” Shoto snorted before shoving at Midoriya as his baby giggled and started to tickle under Shoto’s chin. The surenamed Todoroki giggled, whining softly as the spot wasn’t all that ticklish. “Why are you shoving me villain? The little hero is defeating you,” Deku giggled before tickling Shoto’s stomach again. The male screamed softly before dissolving into giggles. 

He turned to roll into his husband, earning a pout from the baby. It tickled too much and Shoto wasn’t about to keep squirming around like a fish out of the water; it was a little embarrassing and he could accidently hit his baby as he flailed. “Izuku,” he squealed as he jumped up slightly from the other’s chest, hands squeezing at his lower back. “Chahahut thahaht out! Sthahhaaop thahah- eek!” 

Yamato was forgotten as the green haired male rolled on top of his husband, totally wrecking him. Scratching at his ribs, under his arms, down his hips, his chest. He stayed on the upper body, teasing and smiling as he worked. Shoto screamed and shrieked with laughter, something his son had never heard before. But rather than fuss or get upset from the exclusion…. Yamato just observed. He watched what his step father or papa was doing.

He watched his hands, how the fingers would bend on different areas of the torso and imitated it. He took silent note of his father’s reactions given the areas his papa tickled. “Izhzhzhhahahauku!” Deku laughed, coming back to reality as he quickly stopped and started trying to soothe the other, apologizing repeatedly. The number two hero panted softly before a movement caught his eye. Yamato moved closer before leaning between his dad’s, a hand on Shoto’s shoulder for support. 

“Yamo, what are you doing little soba?” The kid hadn’t been teritorial before but Shoto wasn’t sure what he was doing, until a hand found his chest. “Pff! Yhahahahmato!’ Shoto covered his face as he giggled, Izuku catching the laughing child as he nearly fell forward from Shoto’s action. “We did it bud!” Deku lifted his step son up in victory before kissing his chubby cheek. “We did it! Dada is free!” Yamato squealed with absolute delight as he held Deku and lifted a matching arm in victory. 

Shoto sighed as he watched them through his fingers, they were too much. A smile same to his face; maybe he should show a bit more emotion.