#and by full time i just mean more than 4 shifts a week

[filmcel]

my fear w leaving school and moving to work full time is i end up doing that for the rest of my life

[llycaons]

the other grads going 'we love having three-day work weeks and vacation time' well that must be fucking nice!!!

[allophonicmess]

Too Sweet

Logan Howlett x fem!Reader

Act 3

Warnings: spoilers for Deadpool & Wolverine

This is a fluff chapter. Gotta give you guys some candy after all that angst

Word count 4.1 K

Life resumed as normal after that. Or as normal as it could be when you are suddenly placed in the new timeline. Logan kept getting confused by little details that were different to the life he had lived before. Professor X ? Sure he exists but he had hair. Cyclops? Oh yeah. He was just as annoying as he remembered. Who are the fucking Avengers and what sort of rich nerd was Tony Stark? And what about Jean?

“A hot red head with the telekinetic powers?” Wade hummed, pretending to be lost in thought. “Uh, no. UNLESS! Charles used to have a beautiful flowing mane that I don’t know about. He is turning grey, you know… but it suits him. Silver fox”              

So Jean was out of the picture. That was good, right?

Logan groaned at Wade's bad joke. He shifted his focus outside, watching the landscape change from looming tall skyscrapers to even fields and trees that started changing colour with the season. It reminded him of home.

“Just to get this straight.” Logan shifted in his seat. The car that Wade had bought from the dealership had been heavily discounted and Logan now understood why. You would think it can’t get worse than the Odyssey? Oh boy, were you wrong. It was too small for 4 people, let alone 2 mutant men. He already felt sorry for whoever might have to sit in the back for whatever reason.

“Y/N has powers?” Logan asked, trying to play it cool. The whole drive had been a big Q&A.

“Yup,” Wade said with a pop. One hand on the steering wheel and the rest of him laid back in his seat.

“They call her Osmium, too?” Logan didn’t like this dependency on the wanna-be hero. But he had to make a good first impression.

“Osmimimum? Uh no. She is called Atom” Wade laughed “Don’t if she actually does stuff with atoms… It's more like…” Wade groaned as he tried to think of an example.

“She manipulates density.” Logan pointed out. They had trained together many times. But Y/n was never allowed to use her full potential with the X-men. They condemned violence and so she was often left out on mission and focused on keeping the school running.

“Ugh- I guess? She once told me in great, boring detail why ‘Atom’ is a bad superhero name for her but they kept it for the marketability. “ He shrugged “Oh! I remember that one time we stopped a child-mutant trafficking and she got mad, like REAL MAD, and then she turned this one guy into goop.” Wade nodded fondly, thinking back at that moment. “And I mean like Nickelodeon kids choice award goop, like slurpable slushy goo, like-“

“Okay, alright! I get it.” Logan groaned in annoyance. Shaking his head at Wade. He was thankful for the man’s support and friendship but god was he annoying. Constantly.

“I wish she would do that to me sometime. It’s on my ways-to-die bingo. But she keeps refusing!” Deadpool hit the wheel dramatically.

“You are disgusting,” Logan stated dryly. “The most disgusting person I ever met.”

“Don’t forget the most annoying!”

...

The decision to go back to teaching was not made out of fun or for the joy of doing it. Maybe partially, even though Logan would not openly confess so. It was made out of necessity. Living with Wade and Al became tiresome after the first few weeks. It was always the same antiques, the lack of schedule as well as a constant state of chaos that made him crave the ordered life at the school once again. He hoped that it would give him a sense of belonging. The X-men might be different here, with a few quips and details that didn’t match with his reality. But living at the school would tie him to a strict schedule and by god, he needed some structure in his life.

 But all in all, it meant home.

“Okay, peanut. Today is a big day. But I know you’ll do great and meet a lot of new friends.” Wade joked in a motherly tone as they arrived at the Mansion. “And no hair pulling or biting unless they ask for it, okay?”

“I can’t wait to be rid of you” Logan groaned as the car came to a halt. He exited the car with a low groan, stretching to lose stiffed muscles. Not having to constantly ride in Wade's joke of a car was another reason that he preferred living at Xavier’s Institution. Speaking off:

“There you are. Welcome, welcome.” Xavier rolled into the mansions yard.

“A pleasure to have you, Logan. I must say, I was very pleasantly surprised when I received your response to my inquiry.” He moved towards Logan, offering his hand for a handshake.

Logan inspected the man. He was older, in his 40s maybe. But younger than the Charles Xavier he had worked with. He sported shaggy longer hair that was starting to thin out. Soon he would need to get it trimmed to keep his professional exterior. Along with a beard that was rather spotty and seemed too reminisce of his look in the 70s. Xavier looked like a mix of the two versions that Logan got to meet during his time at the school and it made him wonder how time worked here. Events seemed to play out in different order, they didn’t happen at all or much later than seemed correct.

He shook Xavier’s hand, thanking him for the offer. “Of course. I was surprised when you contacted me.” Logan confessed. His gaze shifted towards the grand building in front of him. It was the same old English style build that he knew, with a few modern elements added here and there.

“Is it familiar to you? The school? I assume you have experienced quite a few dejá-vus since arriving here.” Charles observed Logan.

“I do. Some things are the same. Others don’t match what I know or didn’t happen at all.” He confessed. Already feeling the brother connection build, similar to the one he had with the other Charles.

“You will find your answers. I am sure of it.” Charles turned around motioning Logan to follow him inside. “I think it is best if we continue this conversation in my office.” He looked over his shoulder at Wade, who had waited in the car, listening in on the conversation.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll be on my way. You call me if you need to get picked up, Pookie!” He waved at Logan in a motherly way.

“You aren’t coming?” He asked, somewhat confused. But then he saw Charle’s face, the intense stare he gave Wade.

“Uhhh, no I technically have a house ban for no apparent reason-“

“You burned down the west wing” Charles answered dryly.

Wade clicked his tongue, “Right, okay. Yeah… But! It’s very modern now.” He chuckled weakly. “You’ll still call me up for a mission, right?” He tried to persuade the professor.

“If the mission takes place outside of my building then yes.” Charles agreed, focusing back on Logan. And leading him inside. Neither of them commented on the cheer that Wade gave as he drove off.

Being back at the school felt surprisingly good to Logan. It was like coming back from a long holiday. Most everything was the same: Students running in the hallways, playing games in the gardens and-

“Fancy seeing you here!”

Logan turned around quickly, looking for whoever addressed him. Some children were buzzing along the halls, none of them too interested in him. Then he spotted her by the stairs. Leaning onto the dark wooden rails of the gallery. The light from the window behind her illuminating her figure.

“Y/n”, he breathed.

“Hi! Charles told me that you wanted to start teaching again.” She made her way downstairs, focus shifting between not falling and keeping her gaze on him. She seemed pleasantly surprised to see him.

He turned more toward her, watching her get closer to ground level. With each step he felt his excitement grow “He contacted me, actually. Asked whether I wanted to work here…”

“Oh really? What a coincidence ”She grinned mischievously, stopping at the end of the stairs and leaning on one of the bannisters. She kept a little space between them. There might be some familiarity between them but she didn’t want to push him too far yet and give him the chance to get closer to her if he felt like it.

But Logan stayed in place: “Do you have anything to do with that?”

She smirked,  and he felt some of his charm return to him . He might be rusty but some things were just engraved in him.

“Maybe” She shrugged, smiling softly with a playful sparkle in her eyes “But I’m assuming that you won’t be teaching history, right?” Y/n teased carefully. The multiverse situation was a thing she wanted to be careful about. Wade had told her a little bit about what had happened to Logan before he transferred but she didn’t know any details.  

“No, I teach PE and defence classes. You do science, right?” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, hoping to lose the tension in his body. He threw the tidbit of knowledge into the conversation, hoping that he was right and that the two versions of her had that much in common.

“Chemistry and Literature, yeah.” She smiled. She then looked at her watch before pointing towards another corridor with a sigh “I’d love to talk more, but I need to get to class. Maybe we could meet sometime.” She secured the book in her arms.

“Yes.” He answered with a stiff nod, his hands were getting sweaty.

They stood In awkward silence.

“Maybe over a coffee?” She asked, looking up at him, her lip curled upwards. Her look became more expecting as he watched her in silence.

 He would catch the bait she just threw, right? Scott had laughed when she asked him about what Logan had been like; What this version might be like.

 ‘He’s an asshole’ He said ‘a cocky asshole and who thinks he can charm any girl he likes’ she blushed at that comment ‘But he is into the dark, mysterious type if that is what you are after’

“Maybe”, Logan gave  cold and curtly.

He regretted his demeanor when he saw her smile slip for just a moment.

Fuck.

Her face slipped for a moment “Oh.. okay.” She huffed softly. “See you around then.” Y/n nodded quickly before running off.

...

A routine established itself after the first weeks back at the school. The work there itself was the same. Teach the children standard curricula, training them in controlling their powers and some extracurricular activities.

He would spend some evenings with the other members of Team X ,as they called themselves here. Sometimes he would meet Y/n in the hallway but he didn’t work up the courage to stop and talk to her beyond a quick ‘hello’.

What is wrong with you? You used to sweep women off their feet. She is offering herself to you at any chance and you still can’t manage to ask her out?

He sighed as he changed back into his regular clothes. The class had just ended. It was Friday, still fairly warm for October and the trees looked beautiful in all shades of red, orange and yellow.

 Would be perfect for a romantic walk… A charming, rugged man could ask a woman out for that.

“That guy died a long time ago…” He mumbled to himself. Picking up his bag and closing the locker.

He exited the gym, making his way to his room or rather apartment. Wade managed to burn down the teacher's quarters along with the kitchens and cafeteria in some wicked stunt. No one knew what happened and that was for the best, he guessed.

However, that incident resulted in a modernized reconstruction with more spacious rooms for the teachers and a communal cafeteria that students and members of Team X shared.  Great for extroverts but Logan had to pass it every time he went to his rooms, much to his dismay. To make it worse,  the communal space was separate from the hall via a glass wall, allowing for a perfect view of everyone who tried to sneak past. Which led to uncomfortable situations such as this.

“Logan!” Piotr called, waving his huge metallic arm to get the other man's attention. Logan's initial reaction was to ignore him as he had done many times with the members of his old team.

No, he wanted to do better. He needed to. It was that kind of behavior that made him spiral in the first place. So he took a deep breath and channeled all jolliness available to him after 6 hours of teaching and a generally low level of it to begin with.  He slowly made his way towards the teacher's table.

“Come, eat with us.” Piotr offered him the seat next to him on the thick wooden bench. A seat opposite of… fuck- of fucking course he was in on Wade’s plan to play matchmaker.

 “We can’t have you get scrawny, eh?” he joked.

“Not that that would be likely to occur” Y/n joked as Logan sat down. His look snapped towards her and her eyes widened in shock at what had just come out of her mouth.

A knowing, wicked grin spread across Colossus's face. That fucking asshole…

“What are we having?” Logan asked, ignoring the situation that had just occurred. He tried to keep his gaze on Piotr who was busy filling a plate with whatever was in the big metal pot on the side of the table. His eyes shifted to Y/n every so often.

“Pierogi. I am trying out new recipes for a cooking class with my students” He said proudly, placing the plate in front of Logan “Y/n said, they are very good. Right?” He asked her, putting the woman on the spot.

“Oh, uhm…yeah. I like the new… stuffing.” She said, the answer sounding more like a question, carefully looking at Logan when he tried it. She was thankful for Piotr’s brotherly demeanor and gentle nature. Yet sometimes he would tease her as any older brother liked to do. And they sure liked to do it in front of people that the younger sibling might fancy.

Logan nodded in agreement, complimenting the man for his cooking.

“You cook here regularly?” He asked with a mouthful.

“Of course! Cooking is a very important life skill. As well as baking. You should join one of Y/n’s baking classes, she is very talented.” Colossus complimented the woman, making her grin.

“I plan on holding a workshop on the weekend for older students and alumni. You should come.” She offered, a hopeful look in her eyes. Maybe she was too discrete the last time she tried to get Logan to ask her out. So this time she tried to be more direct with her offer.

“I don’t bake,” Logan answered in a backhanded comment as he continued to eat. He didn’t think too much about it. He had planned to ask her out after lunch. He was overly focused on what he would say to her once the others left to notice how he had sounded.

It only occurred to him when he saw how Y/n visibly deflated. “Oh, right” She hummed, swallowing another bite of her food, eyes looking anywhere but towards the man who had once again rejected her so swiftly.

Piotr, just sighed with disappointment, leaning back in his chair. His hard elbow bumped into Logan’s side.

You fucked it up. Again.

...

“Okay, stop. You mean to tell me that she tried to ask you out not once but TWICE and you rejected her?” Wade paced through the living room. Trying to make sense of what his friend had just told him. “You mean to tell me that you now spend 3 months at that school? Being in her proximity 24/7 and actively avoiding her?”

Logan sat on the familiar black couch that looked even more beaten up than the last time he was at the flat. With disgust, he realized that he didn’t even want to know what caused the new damage.

 “I don’t avoid her”

“Oh no? And yet the few times she does catch you creeping in the halls you manage to scare her off.” Deadpool said down one of the rotatable bar chairs. Swirling dramatically.

“No wonder the girl’s not interested in a sad drunk fuck like you,” Al commented from the table where she sat, carefully packaging her newest acquisition of sellable goods.

“ No, Al that’s the thing! The girl wants him DESPITE being a sad drunk fuck!”  Wade jumped from the chair to pace around some more. He had to come up with a plan to get the two to spend time together, and get to know each other better. Create some closeness to let the sparks fly and catch on.

“That’s even worse.” Al laughed, snoring.

“Thank you for the compliments… Reassuring.” Logan groaned, regretting to even have answered Wade when he asked him about how things were going with Y/n. Maybe he wasn’t ready to be with someone again. He liked her and wanted to get to know her but something was stopping him. The urge to protect her from danger and he still thought of himself as the greatest danger to her and his team.

“On the other hand, she is still interested after being rejected TWICE. So you still have a chance, Pookie.” Wade said, sitting down next to Logan, yet again way too close.

“I’m gonna help you, buddy, Don’t you worry.” He leaned in closer, his lips brushing Logan's ears “Act three needs some lovin’ and I make sure you get all the loving you need, baby” He whispered towards Logan. And with dread, and a bit of disgust,  Logan accepted that he had no chance of stopping the man.

...

By the time the midterms rolled around, Logan had gotten familiar with the schedule and his  profession once again. He slept better, tended to snap less at people and even his drinking tendencies seemed to get better. Being part of a community felt good and it made him angry at his younger self for rejecting the people who loved him out of some ill-placed ideology: that to keep them safe, he had to distance himself from them.

And yet you are doing it again.

He sighed as he trotted into the community kitchen. He broke his coffee maker in a fit of frustration last week and hadn’t found the time or energy to tell Charles to get a new one. He stayed out of the professor's way for the most part, not wanting to be roped into some conversation about ‘needing therapy’. So he sourced his caffeine intake from the machine that sat in the big, homely department kitchen. Another benefit was that there was always a fresh pot ready and waiting for him. Downside, there were almost always people in the kitchen, waiting for others to join in for conversation and breakfast.

This morning he should be safe from conversation. Most students and some staff went home for the fall semester break, leaving the school running on a minimal level to accommodate those who had no home to go to. There were no classes, meaning that the school apparatus calmed to a halt.

In practice that meant that almost everyone slept in with no pressure to get up early. And for Logan, that meant that he could enjoy his drink in peace before people tried to talk to him.

Lost in thought he strolled into the kitchen. It seemed empty, thank god. He sighed in relief, stretching languidly. The air exiting his lungs in a low groan.

Then a soft click sounded through the room.

A fridge being closed.

“Oh hey, you’re up early.” Y/n appeared behind the full-size fridge door that had previously shielded her from his view. She looked a little tired, not yet fully awake and a bit tousled from sleep.

Aww C’mon. Maybe Wade was right about the universe wanting them to come together. But primarily to annoy him and allow for Wade to give him the ‘I told you so’ speech.

“So are you.”  He answered, leaving on the door frame and watching her pour some creamer into her cup. Upon closer inspection, she did look younger than her other iteration. Her features were softer looking with fewer wrinkles and scars. He needed to ask her about that at some point.

She leaned onto the counter to reach for another cup, taking it out of the overhead cabinet. Proceeding to pour some coffee in it. “How do you take your coffee?” She asked, turning towards him.

“I’ll take two sugars” He answered, moving towards her with slow even steps. The threat of Wade’s ‘help’ kept looming in the back of his mind, pushing him to be more open towards her and to come out of his shell. Who knows what that maniac had in mind?

Y/n hummed in agreement, dropping in two cubes of sugar and stirring the dark liquid before handing it to Logan.

He thanked her softly, holding the porcelain with his much larger hands. He had moved quite close to her, both leaning against the kitchen counter. The closeness and difference in height between them meant that Y/n had to look up to him, to make eye contact.

With a grin he noticed how she shifted her stand, one hand bunching up the material of her cardigan.

You still got it if you let it happen, man.

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying their drinks and watching the sun paint pictures onto the kitchen surfaces, colored by the stained glass windows.

She was the one who broke the silence. “Are you ready for the training session today?” She asked, turning towards him, shifting her position so that her hip was pressed against the counter.

“Training?” He asked confused, setting down his cup to cross his arms over his chest, the muscles shifting visibly under his skin.

That’s right! Show her what you got!

“Yes, staff training? We got the call from Washington about a mutant security threat. Charles wants us to be ready just in case. Do you read your emails?” She teased, watching him over the rim of her mug.

“I don’t know how that stuff works if I’m honest with ya.” He shrugged “Do you go on missions regularly? On Government orders?” He remembered that Xavier had mentioned something along the lines of that. Some complicated struggles between heroes about government regulation and so on.

“Yes, after the blip it was decided that an X-team force should be established to take care of mutant-related threats or endangerments.” She explained.

He had heard of that, too. “Right. What was that blip again?”

The energy in the room shifted suddenly.

Y/n huffed, almost spilling a bit of her drink. “Ha, that’s a bit of a heavy topic for morning coffee talks.” She looked around uncomfortably. Logan seems to have hit upon a heavy subject.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He apologized quickly. Beating himself up for screwing it up once again.

“No, no it’s fine.” She shook her head, setting down her drink to cross her arms as he did. Only that she seemed to do it defensively. “Half of all life stopped existing for five years and… that left a few scars.” She explained somberly, softly nodding to herself.

Logan blinked, his mind moving at high speed to get the conversation on a good topic again. Anything to turn it around and to prevent her from having a bitter aftertaste to their first proper talk.

Yet it was her, once again, that stepped up. She noticed how he got nervous, eyes wandering, shoulders sagging.

“I’ll explain it to you later. When we are not so pressed on time.” She reached out slowly, placing her hand on his arm, squeezing it in reassurance. Y/n smiled at him softly, moving around him to exit the kitchen and prepare for the day ahead.

Without thinking Logan placed a hand over hers, just in time before she pulled hers away. It had her stop in her tracks. Her eyes moved to where his rough callused palm warmed the back of her hand, up to his eyes. He was watching her with intention.

She was nervous. This was either going to be an invitation to finally get to know him or he had enough of her and told her to stop fancying him.

“You can explain it to me on a walk to the lake? Tonight?” He asked, one eyebrow raising in question. His hand squeezed hers gently.

A second of silence followed.

She exhaled, the stress leaving her body but she had to keep her composure. A grin spread across her face “Sounds like a plan.” She held eye contact for a few beats, then let her hand slip out of his hold as she left.

That’s how you do it, Tiger!

Her lips pressed together to keep from smiling too hard as she exited the hallway.

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I hope I got everyone on the taglist. Write to me if I missed you.

New requets for being added to the list via comments on the Masterlist post, please. That helps me to keep things organized :)

But please leave a comment on this post to provide me with serotonin 😍

[dianight]

I've seen a few of the hyperspecific polls but I wanted to do one with less likely things that I've done but not too obscure that no one gets any.

Option 1: Anyone's but yours. Human. For any reason.

Option 2: Worked at all hours. Different shifts. Different jobs.

Option 3: Castle. You know.

Option 4: To anyone or myself. Fully silent. It wasn't even a condition or anything.

Option 5: One game, adding up full series doesn't count. Or it does, up to you.

Option 6: Intentional. Could be an accident. Could be your own (?).

Option 7: Any edition.

Option 8: What fluency means is up to you.

Option 9: Long vacations, staying over at some friend's place, moving, etc. Just a reasonably "long" period of time and not say, two days.

Option 10: Easy option I suppose?

[cosyvelvetorchid]

Something cute:

Jee gives Uncle Tommy a friendship bracelet she's made, and Tommy's still wearing it a few days later when Buck fetches him from work (it's the first Buck heard about it).

Bonus if Tommy mentions that the guys at work have been trying to give him grief about it but Tommy doesn't give a damn, it's a present from his niece! 🤣❤️

Sorry for taking so long to get to this. This was a super cute one to do 😊

As always you can send me a bucktommy or saltommy prompt to my ask. Smut, fluff or whimp or a mix. Whatever you want.

🩶

********

“Sorry Maddie I have to leave for my shift in like 30 mins.” Buck said

“What’s up?” Tommy asked.

“Maddie needs to run a couple of errands for an hour but Jees daycare is closed so she needs a sitter.”

Tommy removed the phone from Bucks hand without a word.

“Hey Maddie.”

“Tommy, hi! How are you?”

“I’m good. Listen, my shift doesn’t start for another 4 hours if you need someone look after Jee for an hour.”

“Oh my god, really? Are you sure?”

“Of course. I mean, if you’re okay with that?” He asked just to be sure. He loved spending time with Maddie and Jee but he hadn’t done so before without Evan being there.

“Oh please. If you handle my brother you can handle a four year old.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” He said smirking at Buck.

“What?” He mouthed in response. Tommy simply winked at him. Buck would be mad if it wasn’t so fucking hot when he did that.

“Uh, I can be there in about 40 minutes?”

“Tommy you’re my hero!”

“I’ll see you soon.

“Bye! Thank you again!”

“Did you just offer to babysit Jee?” Buck asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“I.. you’re just really amazing, you know that?” Buck said with a soft smile.

“It’s nothing, Evan. You’re my family, which makes her, them, my family too. Of course I’d help.” He kissed Bucks temple and got up to finish packing his bag.

Family. He’d said it so nonchalantly. They hadn’t said anything as serious between each other yet, although Buck had been dancing around the ‘L’ word for weeks like a world class ballet dancer; desperate to say it yet utterly terrified of saying it.

It was going to be even trickier to not let it slip out when Tommy says such sweet shit like calling his family his family.

They finished packing their stuff and separated for the following 48 hours thanks to their shifts for once actually lining up for a full week - 48 on, then 72 hours off. Together.

Tommy arrived at Maddie’s to a very excited Jee-yun grabbing his hand and dragging him over to the coffee table to show him what she was doing.

“I’m sorry she’s in a very important friendship bracelet making phase right now.” Maddie told him.

“Well that’s just perfect because I love friendship bracelets!” He said in an exaggerated way for Jees benefit.

“You do?!” Jee asked

“Of course!”

Maddie stopped by the door for a moment just watching the way Tommy was with her. Every time he’d been over with her brother he always made time to indulge whatever she wanted his attention for. A little picture in her head of her brothers future flew by and she smiled at the thought.

“You okay?” Tommy asked pulling her back to reality.

“Uh, yeah. I should be no more than an hour. You have mine and howies numbers and everyone else’s are on the fridge just in case. Bye baby! Be good for Tommy!”

“So.. what bracelet are we making?” He asked Jee.

“For you!”

“For me?” She nodded. “Okay. How about you pick the colours and tell me what it should say and I’ll thread it together. Sound good?”

“Yeah!”

*

“Now that is the best friendship bracelet I have ever seen! Don’t you think?” Tommy held his wrist up to Jee to inspect their work.

“And the prettiest!”

“I agree! Good job.” He held out his hand for a high five which of course she gave him.

***

2 days later Buck was picking up Tommy from work and though exhausted from his own gruelling shift he was practically vibrating at the prospect of 72 uninterrupted hours with his lo- boyfriend.

“Hey babe.” He greeted Tommy getting in his car.

“Hey baby.” Tommy leaned over and pressed a quick kiss on the corner of Bucks mouth. “Good shift?”

“Exhausting. Please tell me you feel like take out? I don’t have the energy to cook?”

“Pizza?”

“This is why I-“ he stopped himself. Again. “-why were, uh, perfect for each other. You read my mind.”

45 minutes later they’d arrived at Bucks apartment and were getting undressed to shower. Something caught bucks eye as Tommy removed his shirt and undershirt in one pull.

“Hold up.” He lightly grabbed Tommys wrist, inspecting the glittery pink and white letter beads threaded around the elastic. “What’s this?”

“Oh.” Tommy smiled fondly. “Jee wanted to make friendship bracelets when I baby sat her the other day. I promised her I wouldn’t take it off. The guys at the station have been riding my ass about for the last 2 days.” He laughed.

Bucks finger tip glided across the letters “Uncle Tommy.” He read out loud and looked at him.

“Yeah.” He laughed “She told me what she wanted on it.”

Buck just looked at him with the softest eyes.

“What?”

“Just so I understand correctly: you offered to babysit my 4 year old niece, you willingly made friendship bracelets with her, including her calling you uncle Tommy, promised you wouldn’t take it off, then kept that promise when your colleagues make fun of you even though she wouldn’t know if you’d taken it off?”

“I would know, Evan, and I promised i wouldn’t.”

Buck threw his arms around Tommys neck and planted a firm few kisses onto Tommys lips.

“Hmm. What was that for?” He smiled.

“Because I love you.”

Tommy face morphed into a bigger smile. “I love you too.” He kissed Buck back for a few seconds before pulling away. “I’d love you more if you order the damn pizza - I’m starving!”

[mo0nfairy]

I gotta see a part of yandere Leon where reader remembers him as they get through los Iluminados maybe some yandere in action lol (at least only if you want to!)

part 1. part 3. part 4.

tw :: obsessive!leon, yandere!leon, mention of drugs, framing, handcuffs, stalking, trauma, guns, wounds, heights, being locked up.

⸺ ooooooo !!! i've been meaning to make a part 2 of my last ask, but had zero idea where to go from where i ended. i also had played a bit of RE2 before the remake came out recently, so a piece of my brain has been kept up in raccoon city for a little while. i would love to express my thoughts and mesh these two games together !!

let's start with where we left off in los iluminados.

upon having your handcuffs taken off by the stranger who is far too close for comfort, you pace backwards, far away as you can get from this insanity of a man. his attitude abruptly shifts into something softer, a major contrast to the emotional breakdown he had just seconds prior. he realizes you're afraid — afraid of him. and as much as the mere thought destroys him to the point of breaking down again, he shoves a sob back down his throat and keeps his distance, despite how desperately he wishes to close it.

6 years. 6 years. he has been waiting over 2,190 miserable days for this single moment. all the sleepless nights spent searching the world for you; all the hopeless nights spent clinging to pillows, praying by some miracle it will somehow become you. every second of these past 6 years has been spent dreaming of this single moment. and even though your reunion wasn't the teary-eyed, passionate kiss in the rain he had hoped for, you are still here with him nonetheless.

and like hell will he let you slip from his grasp again.

with as much time as his needy self would grant him being physically away from you, he is soon at your side. leon then wraps you in his jacket and you swear you hear a harsh gasp escape from him when his finger accidentally makes contact with the skin of your neck. despite your negligence and more-than-obvious discomfort, you do appreciate the new warm embrace after a week of cold rain and damp clothes. it smells exactly like him, as well.

and with that, he's got a gentle hand hovering over your lower back as he guides you through the depths of this hellhole. and piece by piece, memories that had been buried in your brain begin to disinter themselves.

for example, you got a staring problem bro?? for the entirety of the time you spend with leon in los iluminados, there is literally never a single moment where this mans eyes are not on you. half of the time it is to ensure you are unharmed, but the other half consists of him staring in complete and utter awe. it's kind of hard to focus on surviving when leon is constantly staring into your soul. but it has just been so fucking long since he has been able to see you in all of your glory, so please excuse him for any inappropriate behavior on his end.

also, you knew you have lived in raccoon city for a short period of time before the events of RE2 happened, but like everything else that relates to that damned place, you couldn't remember a thing.

except now. leon's gaze uncovers a memory you have of yourself being held in one of the RPD holding cells. the atrocious scent, the uncomfortable bench, the paint peeling from the walls. you try and scrutinize what on earth you could have been arrested for, but your attempts are merely futile. but unbeknownst to you, your arrest was nothing but bullshit. and to say leon has had a crush on you from the second you moved into RC would be nothing short of the truth. so, by pulling some strings, the rookie had managed to lock you up for what he calls 'bonding time'. he'll place a chair backwards in front of your cell, prop his arms on the backrest and admire you with your full attention finally on him (instead of just stalking you around town).

two things you now remember about this man: he was so adorably baby-faced back then and my god, was he awkward. he still cannot talk for shit and i mean this with my whole heart. his sweet, innocent eyes gaze at you while he tries to play it cool, pulling cards like "yeah, i workout" and "you come here often?". all as if he hadn't personally arrested you for possession of illegal substances he planted himself. (nothing will happen to you, obvi. he just desperately needed a second alone with you to show off how charismatic he can be. or try to be, at least).

and for the short second of seeing him after 6 years, his eyes were just devoid of any life. you had assumed the trauma inflicted from that night had caused such a contrast in his physical appearance, and you would be right to assume that. but the soulless eyes, monotone voice, and lackluster personality was entirely due to your disappearance. days upon days of the lonely, eternal torment destroyed his sanity. however, that illustrious boy you can barely remember seems to have returned with your presence.

another thing you can't believe you had forgotten was how intense his stare is. the way he stares is illegible and sometimes overwhelming. he shivers in his stance, whimpers at your every move, and his mind runs rampant with all sorts of obsessive declarations of love. although it may seem creepy to others and especially yourself, do not fret. he has no ill intent towards you, god he could never! this puppy-dog of a man is simply marveling at your sheer existence.

you are able to retrieve another lost memory when you have to jump from a window and into his arms (for those who say he won't be able to catch you, stfu. have ya'll seen how beefy his arms are??? anyways....). the secret agent you have grown to like during your stay in los iluminados jumps down marvelously (most def showing off his james-bond-esque agilities to you). he now watches from below as you stare at the distance beneath you in trepidation. this distrust you have — he is going to travel to the ends of the universe to fix it. no matter what.

you begin to ponder, he has savagely brutalized all threats in your path and held your hand as if he were holding the world all in the same breath. you should trust him, especially after witnessing the pure display of loyalty he has for you.

"don't be afraid, y/n. i'll catch you, i promise!" there is 10000% a way to walk through the house and down the stairs to get to him, but ofc he's not gonna tell you. why would he willingly throw away the opportunity to be your knight in shining armor?

"you will?" your voice is full of apprehension. his stare on you feels like the same bullets he's forced upon your attackers.

"always."

with that, you rip the bandaid off and jump from the ledge. and leon was most certainly not lying. you land safely in his embrace and he wraps his arms tightly around your form. and to finally have you so close, after so, so long of devastatingly praying he could feel you once more.......... if he had a tail, it would for sure be wagging so fast it would morph into a blur. and the way he holds you is different, as if his gentle nature is reserved for you and you only (which it is. this is literally him in a nutshell).

and when you had instinctively buried your face into his neck upon landing, clinging to him out of fear of hitting the ground, he literally melts. i'm serious, he literally just 🫠🫠🫠🫠. the faint hum of laughter and adoration that escapes his throat breaks you out of your state of shock. you made it safely to the ground without breaking every bone in your body, hooray! (as if there is a single reality in existence where leon would ever allow that to happen, but i digress).

you meet his gaze and there is that all-too familiar stare he gives you. leon's arms holding onto you like a lifeline uncovers a memory you have of yourself being held like this all those years ago. you can't recall exactly where in raccoon city you were, but you can remember how humiliated you were when you tripped over a crack in the pavement and ate shit. there was the fairest of scrapes against your shin, but the mortification hurt far more than any wound. while you dust yourself off and attempt to ignore the burning stares of pedestrians, a shout of your name sparks your attention.

the RPD gear and besotted eyes you're met with could be no other than that baby-faced rookie. you ponder of what he was doing on this side of town. was it a simple coincidence you had run into each other? or perhaps, had he followed you? just when you think you can't feel more embarrassed, leon gets down on one knee and dramatically inspects your wound. and my god, he acts like you were shot or something. he visibly shudders from the sight of your leg; people begin to gather around the commotion. with pure ease, he then scoops you into his arms to bring you to safety. you can feel his heart pound like a machine gun beneath the palm of your hand.

despite the humiliation deprived from this event, you fortunately are free from anything mortifying in los iluminados. however, leon doesn't seem to understand when to take a hint.

"uh... you can put me down now." you come out of your memory to thrash in his grasp and avoid his intense gaze, but your prince charming seems to still be caught in his y/n-filled daze.

after a few long seconds, your comment seems to finally reach his brain. "huh?" his response is faint and you almost don't hear it.

you repeat yourself and begrudgingly, leon then slowly puts you back onto your feet, savoring the last few seconds spent with you in his arms. exactly where you belong. you can only fear how much more suffocating affection you'll have to endure before you can finally remember what happened that night.

i think someone legit needs to slap me across the face and bring me back into reality cause holy shit...... i went WAYY too far with this. my brain is a mess thank u for reading.

i have more thoughts about this........ just incase u were curious........ ;)

[neopuppy]

Jaemin would love a good gloryhole, he gives me crazy psychotic vibes

warning. ntm yet.. a smidge of fondling

“You’re going to work? This late?” Jaemin mumbles, pinching between his eyebrows where he’s sat with his face buried in a pile of books. “Who clocks in at midnight?”

“It’s an overnight job..” you shrug, tightening your coat. “That job fair I went to last week.. it was the only position that wouldn’t interfere with my class schedule.”

Jaemin sighs, leaning back against his computer chair until it creaks beneath his weight. “How are you going to keep up with your assignments?”

“That’s the thing,” clearing your throat nervously, you reply quickly, eager to end this conversation as you appear distracted patting your pockets for the house keys. “Factory prefers college students, don’t want to provide benefits or full-time positions, so the shifts are short, no more than 4 or 6 hours.”

“Oh..” Jaemin stands, stretching out his arms above his head as he approaches you. “I could drive you.”

“No!” You say abruptly, breaking into a smile at the sight of his face falling. “You already do enough for me, and I know you’re cramming for that big test.”

Jaemin waves it off, leaning near the door frame. “It’s not a big deal, I know the couch isn’t comfortable.”

On command at the mere mention of your makeshift bed your back aches, stretching to the side to relieve the pain and releasing a loud crack as you sport half a smile. “It’s not exactly a cloud but..”

“Better than the backseat of your best friend's car.” Jaemin adds, scratching his nape. “I hope at least..”

“Definitely,” you chime, setting your hand on the door handle. “Besides, this is only temporary.”

That’s what you have to remind yourself of daily, that this is just for now. A transition time you’ll forget about as soon as you’ve collected a month's pay. A draining and exhausting effort on your part, but the money..

“Seriously though, if you’re too tired for the walk back, I’ll leave my ringer on.” Jaemin’s hand lays over yours, gently squeezing. “Don’t hesitate to call me.”

“Of course, thanks Jaem.”

“Let’s not sit where she sleeps.”

“I mean..” Jeno scoffs, folding his knees to sit on the floor with his back against the couch. “It is a place to sit, you know.”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“I’m not.” Unlocking his phone, Jeno settles comfortably, head resting against the couch cushion you rest your head on every night. “You say that like I don’t offer her my bed all the time.”

“Which I’m sure she’d take you up on if you know—“ plopping down by his friend's side shoulder to shoulder, he raises an eyebrow. “You were not also in said bed naked from the waist down.”

Jeno shrugs, passing his phone to Jaemin. “Still beats a couch.”

“What’s this?”

“Something new and exciting that we should try.” Jeno explains, leaning in to scroll down the message board. “Know anything about gloryholes?”

Jaemin nearly chokes on his spit, eyes widening as he reads through the various comments describing the experience. “The fuck are you talking about..”

“You know what I’m talking about.” Jeno grins, reaching to jingle the keys in his pocket. “You down or what?”

“I dunno man..”

“I won’t tell anyone.” Sharing a curious look, Jeno raises his eyebrows up and down, pushing up from the floor to stand and extend his hand. “Just between us.”

“I don’t understand the point in paying for a quick fuck..” Jaemin says, disgruntled by the lists of prices before him. The trek to find this place was bad enough to begin with, and on tip of that $500 to get his dick wet? By a stranger no less?

“Two for one deal though.” Jeno notes, tapping the larger font with the price of $800 blown out beneath. “Hear me out, send me $250 and I’ll cover the rest.”

“W-what?” Jaemin stutters, surprised at how nonchalant his friend is about this whole situation. “Are you seriously down this bad?”

Jeno scoffs, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like that.” Counting out a wad of bills, he slides them beneath the black tinted window, specifying the two for one deal for them. “Don’t knock it until you try it alright?”

Bending lower near the opening he slid the money through, Jeno whispers. “Number 7 available?”

“You’ve..” Jaemin follows after him, pieces falling together as his friends leads the way through a long hall without question. “You do this a lot or something?”

“Define a lot.” He says, peering over his shoulder with a sleek smirk. “A couple of times.. nothing crazy yet. At least you have me here to make sure your first time is memorable.”

Jeno comes to a stop, dangling a key that’d been tucked between his palm. “Lucky number 7.” He nods to the rooms door, an ominous carved out text painted black glares back at him.

The door lock clicks, pushed open slowly as his friend steps aside for him to head in first. It’s empty for the most part. A few items stacked along a shelf, condoms, lube, sex toys. “Behind that.”

Jeno locks the door shut behind them, motioning toward a hung up drape obscuring the rest of the room. “Would you prefer to go alone? I’ll even let you have dibs since it’s your first visit.”

Jaemin dry swallows, swiping his tongue across his suddenly dry lips. “And do what?”

Jeno’s lips draw back in a cocky smile, shushing his friend as he nudges him forward. “One way to find out.”

Jaemin’s chest thumps, gulping down the invisible weight pressed against the back of his tongue. Slowly he steps forward, barely grazing the drape with his fingertips, the sight of his trembling hand solidifies the nerves shooting throughout his chest, nudged forward softly again as he steps a foot inside past the drape.

“Shit..” he mutters, biting down on his lip to hold back a groan. Three different holes line up the walls leaving his mind to race with nothing but depraved thoughts.

“Pick one.” You say quietly, barely echoed from behind the wall that hides you.

Jaemin’s neck stiffens, toeing his way closer past the smallest of the holes that meets him at hip level. The arrows above directing him where to insert himself.

“Seven.” Jeno speaks up from the drapes opening, closing it shut to lean against the wall. “This is my best friend, he’s a first timer.”

Jaemin’s eyes enlarge, tracing around the top of the largest entrance that can only be for one thing..

“Let him get a taste of what we paid for.”

Jeno moves to stand behind him, chest pressed to his friend's back. “Jesus man, don’t be nervous.” He grins, cupping under Jaemin’s elbow to direct his hand inside past the opening.

“Nothing to be scared of, especially not you.” He whispers, chin hooked on the largers shoulder, breathily laughing when his friend lets out a shocked gasp.

“Fuck.” Jaemin sucks in a breath, digits sliding between a soft warmth. The heat building in his chest erupts upon contact, lodging himself forward with his chest pressed to the wall as his fingers spread and he glides deeper between the familiar wrap of velvety inner thighs around his wrist. “Holy shit.”

“You wanna fuck that slut, right?” Jeno eggs on, patting his hip. “Get her nice and wet for us.”

[beansricejc]

THE CLIENT - John Wick x F!Reader

my masterlist.

synopsis: you go to some extreme measures to make sure you get your rent paid on time.

⚠️ warnings ⚠️: DUB/NON con, s3x work, cursing, sugar daddycore, implied violence, brief descriptions of violence, misleading job descriptions, good & bad name calling, chasing, financial / emotional manipulation, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT! MINORS DNI! 4379 words.

author’s note: I am so sorry about not being active, I’ve been meaning to take this off of the back burner for some time now. If you follow me you probably have noticed that this is based off of a short blurb I uploaded a few months ago. I’ve been avoiding writing because of several anon hate messages I’ve gotten about Fake It, and it put a huge damper on my writing process. but I’m back and I hope you all enjoy!

This economy is shit.

That's the sentence you continue to repeat in your brain. Should you have to work more than your full time accounting job at that stupidly high skyscraper downtown? Absolutely not, but your rent was bumped up by 15%, and a mere 40 hour work week won’t cut it anymore.

“Can you work nights?” The temp agent asks from across his desk. The florescent lights of his office (that is desperately in need of an update) are giving you a headache. The pot of coffee on the table in the corner is starting to burn.

“Yeah. Anytime after 6.” You quickly answer, your leg that’s crossed on top of the other is bouncing. The worker nods his head and clacks his vintage looking keyboard in front of his computer monitor.

The thick silence in this small space might kill you.

The worker’s eyes squint at his screen, before they trail back to you, seeming to give your face and your body a look over.

“Do you have any experience with housekeeping?” The worker asks, which makes your head tilt. Your printed and slightly crumpled resume is right there in front of him. Idiot.

“I mean, not houses, but when I worked retail I would have to clean the store from time to time.” You tell him and raise your eyebrows.

He nods and continues to stare at you. Creep.

“There’s an opening for a private housekeeper gig a bit north. You wouldn’t be tied to an agency, the client would pay you directly.” The man informs you. “Can, can I just do one thing first? Usually our employers, uh, they typically request pictures of their applicants.” The temp agent stammers and grabs his smartphone from his desk drawer. “Let me just…”

You don’t have any time to decline, since the flash is already going off in your direction.

“Uh- I’ve never heard of anything like that.” you question while the man types on his phone.

“Have you been employed through a temp agency before?”

“Well, not exact-“

“Then clearly you’re unfamiliar with how this works.” He interjects before setting the device down. “The pay is very good, although the employer hasn’t told me specifics. 3 nights a week after 6:30. 3 to 4 hour shifts. Does that work?” the worker asks and pushes up his glasses.

You feel a bit dumbfounded, and you have a strange suspicion that this man is gaslighting the hell out of you. But what can you do? You’re about to be 3 weeks late on rent.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You mumble out.

It wasn’t fine. You hate the fact that instead of being able to snuggle up with your dog and watch reruns of New Girl, you have to pick up a second job.

“Great. I’ll have him give you a call.” was the last thing the man told you before you left the building. Secretly, you hope whoever this ‘employer’ is, they just forget about contacting you.

Hours later, you’re putting groceries into your fridge when your phone starts to vibrate in your pocket. You answer of course.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this, uh…” a deep male voice on the other line asks, accidentally mispronouncing your first name. Chuckling, you quickly correct him. “My mistake, forgive me. Ah, I heard you’re looking for a job?”

Your eyes bulge and you suddenly straighten up as if the man is having a face to face conversation with you. There was no way he was already calling you! Totally unprepared, you cleared your dry throat.

“Yeah, yep, that’s me.” you answer his question. His voice is so sultry. The man is clearly older than you, and it’s clear that he thinks before he speaks.

“Perfect. Pay is 1200 an hour, and if you swing by around 6:45 tomorrow that would be great. Can I email you my address?” The man offers online. You frown and choke on the water you were sipping.

“Woah, woah, excuse me. You said… 1200 an hour?” You repeat his payment offer.

“Yeah, is that a problem? All in cash.”

You almost have a heart attack.

“Nope, nope no problem at all.”

“Excellent. And, by the way, wear something, comfortable.” He says over the phone. You frown.

“Comfortable?” You question.

“Yeah. Comfortable.” He replies.

In hindsight you should have thought this through. You should have seen this coming, since men are disappointing and so vile. And you even know that you’re an idiot for agreeing.

So you do, and end the call.

6:45 comes faster than you thought it would. Your finger presses the door bell, and as you look around the neighborhood he’s in, the only thing you can think of? This dude is in a completely different tax bracket than you.

As for the comfortable clothing, you opted for some leggings and a long sleeve tee shirt that accidentally accentuates your waist and chest. You didn’t think anything of it. Did you think $1200 an hour was a bit off? Totally. But the guy was probably desperate for someone to clean this enormous house up.

You’re completely wrong.

The large door creaks open, and you come to face a man, middle aged, with long dark hair that seems to be tied in the back. A man bun? Really. You don’t say anything about it. Instead you smile and give the classic:

“Hi! You had a cleaning scheduled for 6:45?”

The words are bubbly and of course higher pitched. Like any customer service job, you’ve trained yourself to fake a smile and a friendly voice.

His rugged features surprise you. The way his jaw clenched and unclenched, his dark beard that grows on his face. The way his thin brown eyes trace over your body as he pressed his lips together. As if you were on display, only for him.

You couldn’t deny that he was handsome. But you’re not here for that. You’re here to work.

Are you?

“Yeah, you’ll do.” The man nods and allows you to enter his domain.

What the fuck did that mean? You don’t allow him to see the way your eyebrows scrunch up at his remark.

His house that reeks of modern contemporary architecture, the bachelor pad vibes were insane in this place. Regardless, the home seemed almost empty, even though it wasn’t. The vast size of it makes it so every little noise is able to bounce off the walls.

“Do you want something to drink?” Your new boss asks. He looks down at you with little to no expression on his handsome features. Despite the lack of emotion, a tinge of determination lingers in his narrowed brown eyes. “Call me John, by the way. Mister Wick will make me feel like a senior citizen.”

You just laugh. He already knows your name. Of course he does, why didn’t you expect otherwise? That temp agency definitely gave it to him.

“John it is.” You test out the name on your tongue; the simplicity of it is so right for him.

But something doesn’t sit right with you. It’s as if your body is subconsciously ringing all of the woman alarms that you should listen to.

Oh but you could use the cash! It’s the uneasy pit in your gut that churns and twists, attempting to pry yourself out of the situation.

Of course you ignore it.

“Right. So. There’s this particular spot I need help cleaning.” John’s hand guided you by the small of your back, you didn’t even notice how close he was standing to you. As if John were nothing but a ghost in the wind.

He leads you right in the living room, where a large crimson stain has set itself into the oak flooring. Your eyes widen, instinctively backing away, forgetting that John was directly behind you. Your shorter body runs into his, and he sets his strong hands on your shoulders.

Oh my god. A serial killer hired you. Or at least a murderer. The sheer size of the blood stain definitely was a fatal amount to lose. It’s as if someone had taken a liter of blood and dumped it onto his expensive flooring.

“I’m sure you can understand why this is such a lucrative deal, right?” John’s voice rumbled into your right ear. Chills trickle down your spine, caused simply from his touch and his murmur. But this is bad. You need to leave. You can’t just clean up murder messes for a living!

“I, I don’t know if I can-“

“Oh I know you can. Say, are you a good multi-tasker?” John asked, his grip on your shoulders becoming a bit tighter. It feels possessive almost. You should have listened to your woman warnings your body gave you.

Your canine teeth dig into your soft tongue.

“I mean, yeah.” You squeak out to answer the man who’s paying you. A throaty laugh leaves his mouth.

“Oh, good to hear.”

The scent of his cologne enters your nose. Tobacco, ginger, cocoa even. It’s intoxicating, the way his smell lingers in the air; and how it’ll imprint itself onto your own clothes and skin. You can’t let this man’s Dior Sauvage distract you from getting the fuck out of this house.

“Listen, I don’t-“

“2156, 45rd Avenue. Apartment 5. Right?” John suddenly asks. Those chills that ran down your spine seem to be more sinister than you initially realized. You turn around and glare up at him.

“How do you know that?” You immediately question him with a brash voice.

John lets out a deep chuckle, his handsome smile is so stupid. You don’t want to be attracted to him.

“You should take the job. I could buy your building, your rent could go down significantly.” John smirked down at your trembling form. “But, I’ll need you to be good at more than just cleaning.” His voice grumbles into your ear. His hot breath sticks to your neck. His voice is deep and almost off putting, in a good way. God the way he speaks. The way he looks you over with those pretty brown eyes.

Your mouth lets out a gasp as you suddenly feel his large hand reach around and grab one of your breasts. His unwanted touch feels like fire against your clothing. Your body tries to squirm.

“Shh, dear, let me touch you. I like it more if there’s less of a reaction.” John whispered, you feel his erection grow as he presses his groin into your ass.

“Woah, WOAH!” You yell, shoving him away. Surprisingly he backs away, with his hands in the air. There’s a smirk that plays on his rugged face, as he bites his tongue and lets his eyes devour your body.

“Really? You want to refuse me? Do you know who I am, little girl?” John chuckled, taking a few steps forward.

“You know what? I think I’m good on the job, you’re a fucking weirdo.” Is all you have to say to that. His rugged face has the meanest scowl you have ever seen in your life.

The tension in the air is so uncomfortable, and you want to punch yourself for not listening to your gut. The churning. The accelerated heart rate.

This was all wrong, that creepy temp agent had set you up with some gig that was clearly not legitimate in the slightest, of course it was too good to be true. Men only want one thing, and you don’t know how you didn’t manage to connect the dots.

You grimace at the thought of what he just did to you as your legs sprint towards the door.

“Not so fast, little one.” John growls, it seems he’s got you pinned against his entryway door. Your face is pressed against the wood, and you cry out in pain from the abrupt slam of your body.

“What if I bought your apartment building, and raised your rent? That’s why you have this job, right? That’s why a pretty thing like you waltzed into that temp agency and expected some help. God, I’m glad that agent sent me a picture. Do you know how much I came looking at your confused face?” John huffs out, biting his lip and moaning at the thought. His brown eyes roll to the back of his head for a split second as he recalls the orgasm he had, just thinking about you.

When he was hunched over in his shower, canines digging cuts into his bottom lip and drawing blood as John fucked into his balled up fist. When he whimpered your name like a pathetic needy bitch, the noise bouncing off of the bathroom walls to remind him of what a sick piece of shit he is. The mere idea of him taking advantage of a woman in a predicament like this made his balls ache in excitement. His toes would curl on the wet bathtub floor just imagining you being his good little fuck toy.

The ragged tone in his breath and voice make John sound desperate, deprived even.

“God I want you to swallow my cum so bad, I bet you’d look like a good girl, taking me in your mouth, huh? You wanna swallow daddy’s load?”

You elbow him right in the chest, but fall to the wooden floor while you do so. Too bad you’ve always been a clumsy bitch.

You groan as the pain shoots up your spine. And you panic. This absolute dilf of a man was a freak! And by the looks of all of that blood on his floor, a monster. A serial killer maybe! What the fuck was the point of listening to all of those podcasts if you didn’t take the god damn hints John had shown several times?!

John doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist, lifting you up as you kick, scream, struggle, he even gives your left asscheek a swift smack just for fun. You let out a yelp.

“Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to go into the other room, and I’m going to buy your building. All I have to do is make a call. And you, cutie, get to make a decision.” John chuckled. “You leave, and I’ll have a group of men take out all of your shit from your place; and replace your doorknobs. Or,” John grabs your waist, your hand swats him away as you give him a glare. John sighs and gives you a smile, ruffling your hair with his large hand. “Or you let me have my way with you; while you clean up my little mess. And you won’t have to worry about paying a thing ever again.” John whispers. The man takes a step back, biting his lip at the sight of you being scared of him, before leaving and going into the other room.

You groan, tears brim your eyes as you contemplate your choices. Seeing the vast wealth displayed by just his household furnishings, you figured he wasn’t bluffing. The sting from holding back the cry hurts like a bitch, realizing you have no choice in the matter.

“God dammit.” You mumble, grabbing the cleaning supplies. You can’t help but wonder how the hell this much blood got on this asshole’s floor anyhow. Maybe you didn’t want to know. Either way, baking soda would do the trick here; with some water and dishwasher fluid.

So you get to work, scrubbing and finishing away the blood stain from the wooden floor. It wasn’t nearly as easy as it sounded.

Your stomach churned as you hear him approaching, his Oxford shoes clicking on the ground.

“Oh, good girl.” John snickered from above, you looked up at him with an icy stare, only to see something you certainly didn’t expect.

John and his hand, expertly stroking his hard cock to the sight of you cleaning.

John’s a good size. Bigger than average. Not something straight out of some unrealistic porn video online. The 7 inch long and slightly girthy dick in his grasp twitched, while it dripped precum from the pink shaded tip.

You start to feel something stir in you. This is wrong. You know it’s wrong. But fuck. His lip bite, the way he stroked himself to the sight of you, it’s not like he was ugly or anything. Quite the opposite.

He’s everything every woman dreams about in a man. Dark, brooding, with chiselled features and a symmetrical face. His olive skinned forehead is slick with sweat, definitely from being all hot and bothered at the sight of lil’ ol’ you.

Realistically, there could be worse out there to have fuck you.

“No no, little one. Keep cleaning,” John takes in a sharp breath. “Don’t mind me. Just pretend that this is normal, don’t be distracted. This will be your new normal. You’ll do various tasks around my house, and you let me touch you however I want.”

Now despite what your brain is telling you, the churning in your stomach drifts into butterflies. This isn’t right. In fact, it’s fucking vile. But why is your breath caught in your throat? Why does your head feel like it’s spinning?

You’re too much in your head at the moment, and you don’t notice the sound of a switchblade opening. With one quick motion, you can feel your leggings slice open. Before you have time to gasp, next comes your thong, he’s cutting the fabric and peeling it from your body.

John pressed the soaked cloth to his large nose, taking in a deep breath to get a whiff of your essence. Chills run down his spine as he grows even harder, your pure femininity smells absolutely divine to him.

“Oh you’re so wet for me, you like this, don’t you? You bad fucking girl,” he laughs. Your yelp escaped your dry lips as one of his long fingers swiped your moist entrance, pushing one in to test the waters. Your soft grunt of surprise and disdain covers your pleasure as you continue to try to clean up this stupid blood stain on the wooden floor.

You have to wonder, what the fuck happened here? Your mind goes haywire, imagining the man behind you potentially taking a life in the very spot that you’re in. How did he do it? A gunshot wound? Cutting someone’s throat? Torture? Tying them up by their feet to hang upside down, only to stab their jugular and letting gravity do its job? And why exactly are you thinking of it while John adds another finger, pumping the long calloused digits into your soaking cunt.

You catch yourself backing up against him, moaning a bit as you bite your lip to punish yourself for it. You’re not supposed to like this! What the fuck are you doing?

A suit jacket is tossed aside out of the corner of your eye, as a deep throaty chuckle echoes from the walls of his large house.

“Oh? So I’m right. You do like it.” John chuckles, pulling his fingers out. You let out a whine, almost angry that he would stop fingering you all of a sudden. John slaps your folds with the tip of his cock just for fun.

Your whine is replaced with a sharp squeal, his large hands grip the roots of your messy hair, pulling your head back as his fat tip eases into your pussy. The burn of your head and the burn of his dick throws you in a loop, especially at the sight of John.

John. This perverted, sick and despicable example of a human being, who’s eyes look so soft as he inches in and out of you. There’s a wicked smirk on his face when your eyes shoot to his lips, nothing that the cut up remains of your thong are in his mouth.

And you’re not sure if it’s hot or nasty. The obscene view of him damn near chewing on your underwear has you… well, fucked up. But it’s the way he begins to snap his hips against your ass that makes you forget about it. The other hand whacks your right asscheek, earning another yelp from you.

“You’re a fucking pig!” you sputter out, trying your best to show absolutely revulsion to the way he’s fucking you.

John can see through you like a piece of cling wrap.

You’re not making any progress in cleaning the blood stain, as he thrusts harder into you. You mew loudly while he takes his hand in your hair and instead presses your pretty little face into the floor. Your cheeks and nose throb as scratches embed themselves into your skin, as if you hardly notice. The way John’s cock feels as he has his way with your fluttering cunt is too good to even put into words. You have to remind yourself to breathe while he speaks to you.

“Fuck, you take me so well, princess. I didn’t take you for a good little slut, who’s my slut?”

Gritting your teeth, his tip brushed your cervix, and that will certainly give you an aching feeling tomorrow. You don’t want to admit anything to this monster. But his fist tightens at the roots of your hair, sending pain down your scalp right as his other hand reaches your clit and draws quick circles on it.

“I asked you something, sweetheart. Now fucking answer me.”

“I’m your slut! I’m your slut!” You repeat out, shame fills your belly as you give in to John’s desires, and he giggles in return.

“What an obedient girl you are.” John praises, his thrusts become slower, more passionate even, as if he’s rewarding you for answering him. Somehow, the slower and more sensual movement of his dick feels even better, especially with John incorporating those finger movements on your clit.

“Stop fuckin’ cleanin’, you’re doing a shit job anyway.” John grunts, swatting the brush out of your tiny hands and flipping your body over like a ragdoll. I mean, he’s not wrong, he just doesn’t have to be a dick about it.

“You think you can take me? You’ve been doin’ a good job so far. Better than cleaning, you got a talent for letting me fuck you like this.” John’s words are almost garbled and incoherent but you’re too afraid to shake your head. Before you can even respond, he shoves your cut up panties into your mouth, covering your lips with those calloused large hands, much to your dismay.

You muffle loudly, an attempted “What the fuck?!”, but he only snickered before pumping his cock back into your cunt, lifting your legs so your ankles could have resembled earmuffs on him. Your eyes roll back. He’s so fucking deep, John’s hand moved from your mouth to your throat, restricting your oxygen intake by squeezing as he fucks into you. Using you as his little play thing. Your sticky sweat coated flesh smacks against another, sending the sound throughout the house, along with your softened moans and whimpers.

“Your cunt belongs to me. Got it, bitch?” John asks, these things he is saying to you are fucking terrible, but you can’t help but be excited when they come out. You nod and bite down on what used to be your thong as he continued to rub your wet nub and fuck you hard. Your sharp fingernails dub themselves into his bare thighs, which will definitely leave marks later.

John hisses, but continues plowing into you nonetheless.

“Cum for me. Do it before I change my mind.” John ordered. Say less.

He didn’t have to ask you twice. While your eyes cross, your pussy pulses around his dick, as you become undone under him. Your walls flutter and you whimper loudly, your climax unraveling and finally giving you that oh so satisfying release. John grunts over you.

“That’s it, cum for me, who’s making you cum?” He asks.

“You are! Shit- you are, John,” you mumble into your underwear as your cock drunk state leaves you unable to adjust your body.

John laughs at your undoing, pulling your thong out of your teeth and slipping out of your cunt. It doesn’t take long for him to use his immense strength to lift you up onto your knees, as he gives his slick cock a few jerks with his hand.

“Open.”

In a state of euphoria, you don’t question the man who just gave you a mind blowing orgasm. Your lips part, and he bites his lip as the tip of his dick reached the back of your throat. Your eyes widen as he moans, fingers gripping into your hair once more as he fucks into your mouth a bit more. It doesn’t take long before he climaxed, spurts of cum that you’re forced to take and swallow, like the naive little thing you are.

The things a girl will do to make sure rent is paid in full.

The next few days are certainly something. There are scratches on your face and some light bruising here and there on your body from your, ahem, shift, with John the other night. A male coworker even asked if you had a sprained ankle or something from the way you were walking into the office the next morning.

How embarrassing.

And now you find yourself, checking your mail and getting your rent bill in for the upcoming month. You roll your eyes, tearing the envelope open as your little dog jumps up on your leg, excited that you have arrived home. You aimlessly scratch his head, setting the invoice on your kitchen counter before feeding your pet a scoop of food, and grabbing the checkbook.

It’s almost like it slipped your mind that John had actually acquired your apartment building.

John does many things, but he doesn’t bluff.

Your eyes scan the piece of paper as it hits you like a brick.

Thank you for your business. Please send your payment of: $0.00 by March 1st, 2024.

What the fuck?

The stack of a few thousand dollars stares at you from your desk, and you swallow the lump in your throat. Your mouth dries up when the words in scribbled writing at the bottom read:

See you next week, pretty girl.

xoxo, J.

[writing-for-marvel]

Withdrawal

[He’s Hazardous To My Health Series]

Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x Resident!Fem!Reader

< < PART 2 | Series Masterlist | PART 4 > >

Summary: You wait for Bucky to call.

Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the AU, some angst and self doubt, references to sex, references to Bucky having a traumatic past

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: Will he call? Won’t he call? Let’s find out! Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

Bucky stares down at his phone and sighs.

He wants to call you, genuinely, so why is dialling your number so difficult?

Perhaps it’s too soon, is what he tells himself. It hasn’t even been a full day since the end of your date, calling now probably makes him look desperate.

Should he message you? Tell you that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you all day? Ugh, no… that seems extremely forward for someone he’s only been on a single date with, regardless of if it’s the truth.

There’s never been anyone whom he’s connected with enough to warrant a second date, let alone have him promising to call. He’s completely out of his depth, drowning in a sea of anxiety and no one has taught him how to swim.

Bucky knows he’s overthinking, but you make it hard to think clearly. You have his brain short circuiting, reforming synapses so that all his thoughts are rerouted to the same thing: you.

Turning his phone off, he sets it down beside him. Just because he isn’t calling straight away, doesn’t mean he won’t at all. It’s probably better to wait and not seem super eager.

Or is that counterintuitive? If you enjoy someone’s company, should you let them know so you can see them again as soon as possible?

Fuck, why is this such a daunting task? He’s never had an issue with talking or flirting with anyone before, it seems to come naturally to him. And yet the thought that he’ll say the wrong thing, and fuck up whatever it is between the two of you is making his stomach churn with prickling nerves he’s never experienced before.

Perhaps he’ll find the courage to call tomorrow.

* * *

“You seem distracted, what’s on your mind?” The familiar voice from the driver's seat of the ambulance pulls Bucky from his daydream.

You, is what Bucky thinks. You are constantly on his mind. Him and his best friend Steve are half an hour into their shift and you have not left the forefront of his mind in that entire time.

It’s like he’s in a trance.

“There’s this girl from the hospital…” Bucky trails off, unsure how to articulate exactly how you’ve bewitched him since meeting not even a week ago.

The night before last wasn’t just another hookup. At least, not to him.

“I’m gonna need a little more information than that Buck, there’s been quite a few girls of yours, especially from the hospital.” Steve laughs, but Bucky’s chest tightens at the insinuation that you’re just another fling, even though Steve doesn’t know any better.

“Two nights ago we went on a date, it ended up back at her place.” This is probably not news to Steve - he’s heard many stories about Bucky’s one night stands which would have started exactly like this. But there is one huge difference this time around. “And then I told her I’d call.”

“You’re thinking about a second date with her? She must be something special.” Bucky chuckles under his breath. Yeah, you really are something special. So fucking special.

“She’s beautiful, intelligent, funny, witty. When she was treating that little girl from the train derailment she was so good with her, kind and patient. I don’t know how to describe it, we just click. I don’t think I’ve ever allowed myself to feel more than physical attraction for someone but with her it just happens, I can’t stop myself.”

He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but Bucky’s already addicted to you. He’s only had one fix, but he’s already showing symptoms of withdrawal. Every second apart feels like an hour, craving your company and the rapture firing in every neuron of his body when you’re in his presence.

“Look at you actually falling for someone.” Steve teases, without even knowing the full extent of how enthralled Bucky is with you. “So when are you seeing her again?”

Silence fills the front seat of the ambulance when Bucky can’t answer the question.

“Bucky, you have to see her again! Listen to how you’re talking about her, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you actually speak about wanting to see someone again. You need to call her.” Steve stops at a red light and looks over to Bucky in the passenger seat. His best friend knows him better than perhaps he knows himself but doesn’t have the same obstacle with letting people in as Bucky does.

“That’s easier said than done.” Bucky can’t mask the dejected tone in his voice, and Steve recognises the crestfallen hang of his head, knowing exactly what he means without voicing it aloud.

“I know you've been through a lot in your life Buck, you’ve built walls up to prevent any more heartbreak…” Steve starts, but Bucky doesn’t need yet another reminder of his tragic backstory.

“Alright Mr I minored in psychology, I get your point. I’m damaged goods and don’t let people get close to me.”

“It’s just a second date, Buck, you aren’t asking for her hand in marriage. Just see where it goes.” Steve makes it sound so easy. Most people wouldn’t get so stressed about something they would consider as minor as a second date, yet Bucky feels like he’s about to expose the most intimate parts of his soul to someone for the first time.

“But I don’t want to hurt her. I know nothing about dating or being in a relationship.” Bucky pauses - the fact that he’s even considering something as substantial as a relationship with you punches him in the gut. He’s never wanted that with someone before. “And I don’t want to get hurt myself.” Because all Bucky has known is relationships breaking down. To him romantic relationships are synonymous with pain and he’s had enough of that for a lifetime.

“You’ll never know if you never try. I know you think letting someone in will lead to heartbreak, but what if it’s the opposite? What if by letting this person into your heart you finally find love and contentment?” Bucky has never allowed himself to imagine a life where that is a possibility - opening himself up to that prospect sounds like a recipe for more suffering. Besides, he’s been damaged goods for a long time, he’s sure there’s no one who would want to put up with him anyway.

“You really are a hopeless romantic.” Bucky comments, trying to avoid the questions Steve is raising, and divert the topic of their conversation.

“I want you to be happy, Buck. You’ve never afforded yourself that courtesy.”

Though his experience screams at him to run in the opposite direction, that this would be a horrible decision leading to further pain, Bucky finds it hard to believe someone as sweet and good-natured as yourself would ever hurt him intentionally. Even if there is only a slim chance that he doesn’t completely fuck this up, given Bucky cannot stop thinking about you, he supposes it’s worth a shot calling you.

“Well, maybe it’s finally time I do.” Bucky mutters under his breath.

* * *

You’ve been checking your phone periodically throughout the day to se if you have any new notifications from Bucky, but each time your phone lights up, a new wave of disappointment floods your chest.

You wonder if the notion of actually calling you, or simply messaging, has even crossed Bucky’s mind once since he left your place about 36 hours ago, or if he already knew it was an empty promise at the time he made it.

“Heard anything yet?” Wanda asks hopefully, but you shake your head in response. The first thing Wanda asked during your next shift together was how your date went with Bucky - between treating patients you described the picnic Bucky set up on the riverbank and (in slightly less detail) the euphoric night you shared when you made it back to your place.

“I’m stupid for actually believing he’s going to call, aren’t I?”

“…No.” Wanda offers after a brief hesitation which tells you more than the single word does. Sensing your regret in asking, she continues on. “Sweetie, only you know the connection you share, I can’t speak to that. If you feel like there’s something special there and he promised to call, then you have every right to believe him.”

Perhaps you’re being foolish, you should know better than to hang your hopes on a man who is notorious for being a fuckboy, but you really thought Bucky was being genuine when he promised to contact you. That the blissful night you shared, and the waves of ecstasy which melded into a flood of pure pleasure, meant more than just a one night stand.

Or at least it did to you.

“Just because he’s never pursued more than a first date with other people in this hospital doesn’t mean he isn’t now, or isn’t with you. Sometimes it just takes the right person, that could be you.” You take some comfort in the sincerity of her tone, but the voice in the back of your mind reminds you of what Wanda alerted you to prior to your date: no one gets a second date with Bucky Barnes.

“You’ve changed from giving me no hope to giving me false hope, Wan.” You joke, trying to brush off the conversation and not reveal just how heartbroken you’ll be if Bucky ghosts you, even with Wanda warning about his ways.

Internally you remind yourself that it’s only been a day and a half and to not be too mad at him, yet. Perhaps he intends to call, but hasn’t gotten around to it, though you’re pretty sure you’re only telling yourself that to stop the perpetual ache in your chest rather than truly believing it.

“He promised he would call, that’s not false hope.” Wanda advises, shooting you a look of encouragement as you both complete paperwork for your respective patients.

At that moment, the doors to the ER swing open and none other than the paramedic you were just speaking about walks in wheeling a patient.

You hate how good he looks, long chestnut hair framing his face and those dazzling blue eyes you’ve dreamed about shine from all the way across the room. He’s unfairly attractive, and he walks into a room like he knows it too.

Him and his partner consult the head nurse of the ER, who, after examining her clipboard for a moment, points towards your direction, making your stomach flip.

Steel blue eyes meet yours and for a moment your entire world stands still. The sounds of the busy ER fade away and even the presence of Wanda beside you dissolves into non-existence when his eyes find you and a smile overtakes his features. That damn cheeky smile which makes your knees weak.

He truly is infuriatingly beautiful.

“Hey.” Is all you can think to say as they approach, a lump in your throat forming which would prevent you from voicing any more words if your brain could think of any other than how strapping and handsome he looks in his uniform.

“Hi.” Bucky responds softly with a dreamy smile, eyes lingering on yours for a long beat before turning away. How could someone who looks at you with such warmth not want to see you again?

You shake the thought from your mind as your focus on the patient, a young man with scared brown eyes. You can’t afford to be distracted right now, even if you desperately want to look back at him and revel in the fondness brimming in his eyes which was so apparent during your date.

After Bucky’s equally tall, broad and handsome paramedic partner gets you up to speed on the patient's history, you get to work on taking his vitals.

“Rogers, Barnes, give us some space to work, please.” Dr Strange requests and without the chance to say another word to each other, both paramedics disappear out the corner of your periphery.

What you don’t notice is Bucky’s soft gaze on you through the glass walls of the patient room as you start your work up, believing that he had simply got back in his ambulance and out into the field.

“That’s her?” Steve asks from beside Bucky. He knows full well it must be you, he’s never seen his best friend look so enamoured with a girl, nor lost for words as when he set eyes on you, but he wants Bucky to admit it aloud.

“Yep, that’s her.” Bucky says with a pride that if Steve didn’t know any better, would suggest that her meant his girl. Bucky answers without taking his eyes off you, the corners of mouth tugging into a smile. His best friend has it bad, and he doesn’t even realise.

Steve suspects if he doesn’t remind Bucky they have a shift to get back to, he’d happily watch you work for the rest of the day.

He allows Bucky a couple more minutes of that luxury before heading back to the ambulance, knowing his best friend well enough to realise before either Bucky or yourself do, just how significant Bucky’s feelings for you are.

* * *

Bucky steps out of the shower, the warm water having rinsed the hard days work off himself.

He knows he needs to call you. Waiting any longer, especially after seeing you today, even if it were only for a brief moment, would surely only indicate disinterest. That’s so far from how he feels about you, so he decides needs to take matters into his own hands and fulfil the promise he made two nights ago.

A fresh swarm of butterflies fills his stomach. He’s actually going to do this.

He just hopes you’re after more than just another hookup. Bucky’s used to being the one only interested in sex, but if the roles are reversed this time, it’ll be his exposed heart being ripped from his chest.

No, he can’t think like that. He’s finally giving himself a chance at happiness.

Bucky reminds himself that you asked him to promise to call after your date. It’s not just him that wants this, you want him to call.

With that thought, he pulls out his phone and quickly presses on your contact, so he doesn’t chicken out, and with a shaky hand holds his phone to his ear. Bucky’s heart beats in his throat as the first ring sounds, and then skips a beat altogether when the click of you answering fills his ears.

“Bucky, you called.” He can hear the smile in your voice through the line, but what makes his heart clench is the trace of surprise he can perceive, as if you truly hadn’t expected him to call.

“I did promise to.” He reminds you, but it doesn’t entirely eliminate the bitter shame bubbling in the pit of his stomach that even though he did in fact promise, you didn’t fully believe him.

“I’m happy you did. I had a really great time the other night.”

“So did I.” Those three simple words don’t sum up just how much Bucky wholeheartedly enjoyed every second he spent with you, regardless of if that were naked in your bed or getting to know you on a picnic blanket as the sun set across the horizon, but in his anxious state he can’t find words more poetic to express it. “And I’d love to do it again if you’re up for it.”

“Hmm, I’m gonna have to think about it.” He can tell by the light tone of your voice you’re joking, but he supposes he deserves waiting for an answer considering he made you wait for his call. “Of course I’d love to go on a second date with you James.”

The combination of your words and the fact that you punctuated the sentence with his true first name sends Bucky straight to heaven. Everything about you makes him completely weak in a way he has never experienced before. All of those walls Steve seems to think Bucky has built around himself don’t appear to exist with you, instead, you’ve come into his life as easily as walking through a front door with a welcome mat out front.

“I guess I’m going to have to outdo a picnic at sunset then.” He chuckles to himself, knowing that he’s never had this problem before, but realising it’s a good problem to have.

You continue to talk well into the night, forgetting what time it is, and that you both have early shifts in the morning. None of that matters when you’re so caught up in each other.

Bucky simply enjoys the sound of your voice, and how it soothes the remaining anxiety which was swirling in his chest before calling you. He certainly isn’t hanging up first, not when talking with you has been the best part of his day.

He’s chasing happiness. And he might just find it with you.

Part 4 > >

Be added to the series taglist here

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[ladykailitha]

Everything I Ever Wanted Part 4/4

The last part. The end of this glorious story. I had such a blast writing it. All the world building, the characters, their stories.

I'm not sure if I'm 100% percent done with this world, but for now this is goodbye.

Thank you to everyone who liked, commented, and reblogged even with it suddenly being scuttled by staff because it had the word escort in one of the tags.

Here we have the Harringtons trying every trick in the book to get more money from Steve, and the birth of Steve's and Eddie's baby.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

****

Steve stared at the single pink line in bitter disappointment. He knew he should feel grateful that he didn’t get pregnant on the first try so that they had more time to prepare.

But the acrid feeling burned his insides like a sick fire.

Eddie came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his middle. He kissed their bond bite and nuzzled the scent gland to send waves of comfort through their bond.

“It is four in five, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured gently. “There’s always next time.”

Steve turned in his arms and buried his face into Eddie’s scent gland to deepen the scent between them.

“What if this means we were wrong?” he whimpered. “What if I’m not a golden omega after all?”

Eddie held him tight. “Then we’ll adopt or try surrogacy. We’ll figure it, Stevie. I promise.”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. “Okay...”

Eddie kissed the top of his head fiercely and held on for dear life. He prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that if he was kind, that if he was just, he would let Steve bear Eddie’s pups.

****

Eddie’s rut came before Steve’s heat, but that wasn’t uncommon. Especially with Steve’s heats more frequent than a regular omega but not as often as a golden omega.

Steve was happy to service his alpha’s ruts. It was the one part of his job he actually missed. Tommy had tried to say that he just liked the rough sex, but that wasn’t it. He loved the providing for an alpha when they were at their most vulnerable. To feed them, clean up after them, to be the thing they held onto when their whole world was shifting out from under them.

Ruts originally were for the alpha to impregnate as many omegas as possible without the bond. Back when the world’s population was too low. But for whatever reason even after the population grew, the alphas still developed a mindless need for sex a few times a year.

Steve personally thought that it was something bred for like fucking animals because men tended to think with the wrong head.

What this all boiled down to was that when Steve’s first heat since they bonded, Eddie was able to be lucid throughout the whole experience and give Steve the much deserved attention he needed.

Afterwards, Steve was forced to admit that having Eddie take control of his heat was even better than when they were both under the haze of the hormones.

Never before had a heat been so smooth, so effortless. Gone was the feeling of not being full enough, of not being good enough.

But Eddie soothed all that away.

So Steve really shouldn’t have been surprised when six weeks later he was staring a double pink line.

“Why the fuck are the lines pink?” Steve huffed. “Isn’t that sexist?”

Eddie looked at his bondmate, husband, and love of his life with fond exasperation. “Honey...is that really your take away right now?”

Steve looked up at him in adorable befuddlement before he realized what the double line meant.

“I’m pregnant?!” he squealed. He threw the applicator in the sink and hugged Eddie tightly.

“You sure are!” Eddie said, swinging them both around in their rather large sized bathroom, but still managing to knock things over in their excitement and overwhelming joy.

“My baby is having our baby!” he shrieked in delight.

Steve threw back his head and laughed.

“Who should we call first?” he asked once he was put back down.

“Wayne!” Steve said at the same time Eddie cried, “Robin!”

They laughed and then their next exclamation reversed, with Steve saying Robin and Eddie saying Wayne.

“Both?” Steve asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Both is good,” Eddie agreed.

****

They set up a live group chat. Robin answering first and then Wayne popping in.

After they said their hellos Steve held up the pregnancy test slowly.

Robin gasped and squealed in delight. “I told you! I’m so happy for you!”

Wayne’s reaction was more mild, but no less sincere.

“I’m happy for you both,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion as a tear slid down his cheek.

“You’re going to be a grandpa,” Eddie murmured.

Wayne pressed a hand to his mouth as more tears fell. He let out a watery chuckle.

“I’m going to be a grandpa,” he whispered. He laughed out loud. “I’m going to be a grandpa!”

“You’ll come live with us until the baby is born, right?” Steve asked nervously.

Wayne looked between Eddie and Steve’s earnest faces and any objection he had flew out the window.

“Hell yeah, I am,” he said gruffly. “It’s about time I retired anyway.”

Everyone in the chat cheered.

****

After all their friends and had been told, Steve informed Starcourt of their pregnancy.

He was informed that Benny and Robin would coordinate the agency’s announcement to coincide with Steve and Eddie’s press release of the news.

They would wait until the twenty week mark when the chance of a miscarriage became an impossibility.

Steve would wear loose fitting clothes and more dresses to hide the bump until an announce would be ready to be made.

Robin and Benny would also manage the rumor mill and their privacy.

They got a very good doctor who specialized in golden omega care, now that Steve couldn’t be anything else.

Those first few weeks were bliss. They were happy and thrilled that Steve was pregnant.

They started preparing their nursery. Winnie the Pooh themed. The characters painted on the walls. The books on the shelves. Stuff animals galore.

Will had done painting of the walls and Steve nudged the omega in the direction of illustrating for children’s books. In particular his alpha’s children’s books about Poppy the Purple Dragon. It was a series of books about teaching gender and sexuality to late tween-early teens.

Will blushed. Mike had taken a page out of Eddie’s playbook and started really focusing on writing middle school aged books about alpha health and then just slowly branched out to all genders from gentle pushes from his in-laws, El, and even his older sister.

They weren’t originally going to have pictures, but Steve thought it was a good idea since it was something Will was passionate about too.

Dustin hadn’t bonded yet. Everyone had thought that he would have bonded Suzie when he brought her home from college. But they were both alphas and at first that wasn’t a problem, but soon it became clear that Dustin would benefit from having an omega partner.

So they broke up.

It was no surprise to anyone that Erica presented as an alpha. She also was unbonded, but that was more a personal preference then because she hadn’t found the right person.

Jim was grateful that El was just a beta. She had health problems as a child and both Jim and Joyce were concerned that adding a second gender would have further harmed her.

She was beautiful and charming young woman and Steve and Eddie, who claimed they didn’t have a favorite, was without a doubt their number one of the kids.

She was a fashion designer in New York and incredibly happy.

Then the news dropped that Steve was pregnant and suddenly everyone was rushing out to LA to make sure he was safe. El was the only one who chose to stay, after all she could design clothes from anywhere and LA was as a big a fashion hub as New York was.

First there was the fallout from the fact that Steve was a golden omega.

Starcourt Services put out the following statement:

“Starcourt Services, along with it’s sister companies across the globe have long since known the possibility of untested omegas being golden omegas when they are brought to us, but due to the privacy of our omegas, Steve Munson ne Harrington is merely the first golden omega willing to come out as such since retiring.

When the former escort came to us with the news of his pregnancy and his golden status, we were overjoyed for him. But we knew that this would have to be carefully curated to the press.

This is not like the Church coming out and saying that they knew that one third of their sequestered infertile omegas were there without their consent.

This is the opposite of that. This is Starcourt Services, we pride ourselves on our client and escort confidentiality. If an escort had wanted the public to know that they learned later in life that they were an golden omega, you would have been informed.

However, with the nature of Steve Harrington’s marriage and bonding with known rockstar, Eddie Munson, his pregnancy, no matter how much he could have tried to hide, would be leaked eventually. So between his people and ours, we were able to formulate what we hope will be an appropriate response.

Again, we congratulate Eddie and Steve Munson for their upcoming bundle of joy and wish them all the happiness in the world.

We will be holding a press conference to answer an further questions on...”

And they listed a date and time.

Which Steve and Eddie had wisely sat it out, because apparently Steve’s parents had shown up and asked about the difference in bid price verse golden omega dowries.

And when they were told that golden omega dowries had been over-inflated by the media and that some times the “price” wasn’t a price at all if the omega’s soulmate wasn’t from the elite.

Hooboy.

To say that went over like a lead balloon would be an understatement. It blew up the media and several outlets were forced to admit that they had known about golden omegas choosing from all walks of life, that they would only report on the rich ones.

Often times a benefactor would step in and help pay the dowry but that wasn’t always the case.

Jim Hopper took advantage of the situation by running for president of the United States under the platform of creating dowries and testing centers for parents who can’t afford to pay for the golden omega test. And to give parents and infertile omegas the right to chose not to take the test.

Steve was sure he was going to win. Because even conservatives would chomp at the bit for the chance that their children might be golden omegas.

When it looked like the Harringtons weren’t going to get more money from Starcourt they tried to take Eddie and Steve to court over grandparents’ rights. Claiming that as an escort Steve is incapable of being a loving parent due to the nature of having so many sexual partners.

After their lawyers showed all their trips out of town while Steve was in school with no evidence of having alternative supervision and how they would come just often enough that it couldn’t be considered child abandonment (thereby proving they knew what they were doing), the judge laughed them out her court room.

So they did the last thing they could they tried to blackmail Steve into giving them more money.

What did they try and blackmail him with you ask?

That he hadn’t been a virgin when he had been auctioned off.

Steve sat there staring up at them, five months pregnant, in his and Eddie’s living room on their outrageously plush sofa and laughed.

“You have no proof of that,” he said shaking his head. “I only had one girlfriend and there is no way Nancy Wheeler is going to say shit about me, not with all the things I know about her.”

Mrs. Harrington rolled her eyes. “Just because she was your only girlfriend doesn’t mean you weren’t a slut before her or after her.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow at her. “Just because Steve wanted to be an escort when he was younger doesn’t mean he was sleeping around as a teen. What is wrong with you people?”

“We have photos!” Mr Harrington bellowed.

Then Steve really did laugh. Threw back his head, clutching his stomach as he just burst out in peels of laughter.

“If you’ve got what I think you’ve got,” he said once he was calm enough to speak. “You ain’t got shit. Because the cherry popping refers to my hymen being broken. Which, considering I played in a couple of different sports, and that can cause hymen breaking, is such bullshit. And even if it hadn’t been, I still would have been considered a vaginal virgin because those pictures you have is of me fucking Nancy before either of us presented.”

Eddie’s grin was feral. “So what you’re saying, honey,” he said, his voice positively dripping with disdain, “is that they just admitted to having child pornography of their own child.”

Both the elder Harringtons blanched.

“Now get out of my sight,” Steve said waving them off, “otherwise that lovely little protection order I have waiting for you will spring into effect.”

They sputtered and protested but they were forced to leave the premises with all their hopes and dreams dashed.

“Morons,” Eddie huffed. “Like I don’t have a legal team, a PR team, and a whole slew of people willing to take them down for fun. And that’s not including your people, babe.”

Steve shook his head. “I honestly don’t know where they thought they would get away with any of their attempts. I was starting think I was starring in a roadrunner cartoon for fuck’s sake.”

Eddie chuckled and kissed the top of his head. “But it’s over and done with now. I want you focusing on that pup of ours you’ve got growing.”

“Wayne and El are going to be pissed they missed out on the fun,” Steve murmured, curling up into his alpha’s side.

“They are,” he hummed in agreement, “but I’m grateful they weren’t here to see how vile they were to you.”

Steve chirped happily as Eddie rubbed his bond mark. He was safe, his pup was safe, and that was all that mattered.

****

Even with the epidural, Steve swore off more pups while he was giving birth. It was awful, it was horrible. Zero out of ten, would NOT recommend to anyone.

Then the beautiful, curly haired little boy was placed into his arms and he was in love. He wanted a half dozen more.

“Eddie...” he said looking up at his alpha with awe and adoration. “He’s perfect.”

Eddie smiled back down at his little family. “Look at what you made, Stevie...look at this sweet little baby. He’s all ours.”

The nurse handed Steve a bottle of formula. “Are you sure you don’t want to try breast feeding?”

Steve shook his head. “I want to be able to have other people feed him, being able to sleep more regularly, and not leak all the time.”

The nurse did not look impressed, as they could have hired a wet nurse, but wisely left them alone. Steve immediately gave it to his baby was happy to see that he quickly learned what it was for and began to eat.

“You ready for his grandfather and godmother to see him?” Eddie asked gently, smoothing Steve’s hair.

Steve smiled up at him and nodded.

Eddie went out to the hall and brought in the two guests who were waiting patiently.

Wayne checked on Steve and then made sure Eddie was faring okay, while Robin rushed to Steve’s side and fussed over the new mama.

“He looks like Dustin,” she cooed. “All curly hair and no teeth.”

Steve smiled up at her. “That’s why we decided on the name Dustin Wayne Munson.”

Wayne looked down at his grandson in awe. “Oh, Stevie, you didn’t have to go and do that.”

Eddie punched Wayne’s arm good-naturedly. “Like we would call him anything else, old man.”

He grabbed a burp cloth and draped over Steve’s shoulder, who proceeded burp their baby.

“You can’t have two Dustins or two Waynes though,” Robin said. “What are you going to call him to avoid confusion?”

“Winnie,” Eddie explained. “Once he gets into school, he might choose to go by either his first or middle name, but to us, he’s Winnie.”

“Welcome to the world, little Winnie,” she murmured gently, reaching out to capture a curl. “May it be kind to you.”

“I think it’s time to let Mom and Winnie sleep,” Eddie said. “We can tell his other namesake when both are better rested.”

Robin and Wayne nodded, filing out.

Dustin would be over the moon when he found out later, tears of joy streaming down his face as Winnie was placed into his arms, surrounded by all of Steve’s found family.

Chrissy had already went out and bought two wardrobes full of clothes of varying sizes so that the little one would always have something fashionable to wear.

Robin was swearing undying fidelity to this three hour old baby.

The rest of the Party was promising to teach him all sorts of the things from science to basketball.

Even the boys from Corroded Coffin got in on it, offering their services to babysit whenever they got overwhelmed.

Steve and Eddie just watched in loving adoration for their friends and their family.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie said. “How are you feeling right now?”

Steve kissed his lips. “I got everything I ever wanted and I couldn’t be happier.”

Eddie pulled Steve closer into his side. “I’m glad, Stevie.”

****

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​

@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi

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@lexirosewrites @lawrencebshoggoth @lingeringmirth

[wowsosad]

Sam calling Dean dad/daddy? Take that wherever and however you want 🖤

Hi nonnie :)

CW/TW: Weecest (Sam is 14, Dean is 18), avid references to this post, Daddy!Dean, Sam acts younger than he is (psychological regression who? Freud would have a field day), quite soft and fluffy, really no nsfw here

.

They’re in an apartment this time, and it’s rented every two weeks instead of every month. They’re close to St. Louis, but not within the city by any means. John’s been running around in the surrounding counties, going after a variety of salt and burns while Sam attends the nearby high school, and Dean made money bussing tables and serving at a bar (no time for high school, these days. Too many monsters and too little money). Today is a day like any other.

Sam’s leg bounced where he sat in his seventh-period class. He liked American history well enough, but the curriculum for freshman at his last school, Columbus High School in Nebraska, did ancient world history for freshmen. He liked that far more than WW2, which he’s learned about 16 separate times already.

Sam’s friend—“friend” being a tentative term—Derek was leaning against his hand, eyelids drooping. The teacher had finished for the day, and was giving them time to work on their homework assignments. Sam had been done with them for days, and was eagerly looking at the clock, anxious for school to be over. Derek’s eyes traveled up and down Sam’s body, blasé enough that it didn’t feel weird.

“What’re you so excited about?” Derek mumbled, and Sam’s attention snapped away from the clock on the wall. 2:50, ten minutes ‘til class was up.

Sam’s leg continued bouncing, “My dad’s picking me up.” A grin threatened to split across his cheeks, and Derek rolled his eyes.

“Your dad always picks you up. There’s nothing exciting about that,” Derek scuffed his shoe against the floor. Sam frowned.

“You’re just jealous ‘cause you’re a bus rider,” Sam switched which leg he was bouncing, and Derek hummed in acknowledgement. As they were talking, the rest of the class began abandoning their work in favor of socialization.

“I’m not jealous. My dad’s a total goober. If he picked me up I’d be embarrassed. Your dad, though,” Derek mimed steering a car, “He’s got that cool Impala. It’s hard to be lame in one of those.”

Sam grinned, finally letting his glee show on his face, “Yeah, my dad is pretty cool. So is his car.”

The second the bell rang, Sam bolted out of the classroom. He barely stopped by his locker to drop off the books he didn’t need for homework, then he was out of the building like a flash. Dean’s car was smack-dab-center in the car-rider line, and Sam hurried to it, satchel smacking against his thigh as he slowed his pace. “Four Sticks” by Led Zeppelin was audible from the stereo, and Sam stuck his head in the open window. He met Dean’s eye with a wide smile. It was Wednesday, which meant Dean wasn’t working.

Dean’s shift at the bar always started at 4:00 and ended at midnight. The only days he didn’t work were Wednesday and Sunday, which meant Sam loved Wednesday and Sunday.

“Dad!”

Dean’s smile split across his face, “Sammy! Come on, get in.”

Sam hurried into the car, tossing his bag to the ground between his legs, and leaning forward to meet Dean in the middle. Dean wrapped an arm around Sam, cradling his neck, and pressed a firm kiss to his forehead. When released, Sam flopped against the seat with a smile.

“I missed you, daddy,” Sam blinked, and Dean grinned before ruffling his hair.

“I missed you too, kiddo. I got my paycheck, you wanna go get some ice cream?”

Sam’s smile grew even wider, “Milkshakes?”

“Whatever you want,” Dean affirmed, and pulled out of the car-rider line.

Once home, his stomach full of a burger, fries, and milkshake, Sam slumped on the living room couch with a deflated, content sigh. He was flopped up against the armrest, lithe body lain across the couch cushions, and Dean smiled at him softly. The older boy followed Sam onto the couch, crowding over him. Sam’s breath hitched, his jaw ticking up as Dean’s face hovered over his.

“Daddy,” Sam cooed, eyelashes fluttering, “You’re not working tonight.” He was giddy. It was already past 4:00, and usually, Dean would’ve been long-gone by now. Most days, Sam prided himself in his maturity. He was a pretty grown-up kid, knew how to hunt monsters and how to kill them, was mostly fluent in Latin, had fired a gun more times than the average 14-year-old boy. But he felt small with Dean, like falling back into a littler version of himself. Dean never made fun of him for it.

Dean bent down onto his elbows, one hand coming up to cradle Sam’s jaw.

“You’re right, I’m not workin’. I’m all yours this evening. Whaddaya wanna do?” Dean’s fingers, calloused and warm, gently scratched up and down Sam’s soft jaw. He hadn’t yet grown facial hair yet, unlike Dean, who had scruff he maintained. It made him look older, and more handsome.

“We could watch a movie,” Sam bit his bottom lip, worrying at the inflamed, reddened skin there. Dean’s thumb moved to remove Sam’s lip from his mouth with a tut.

“You should stop bitin’ there, Sammy. You’re hurtin’ yourself,” Dean’s gaze was pensive, unconcerned. He’d been repeating that for years. If Sam wasn’t biting his lip, it was the inside of his cheek, or his nails. “A movie sounds good, though. I got Ferris Bueller’s Day Off from the Blockbuster downtown,” Dean tapped Sam’s chin, “Does that sound good, kiddo?”

Sam nodded, and smiled, “Yeah, daddy, that sounds good.”

[vqrtualheartss]

Without Barriers — e42!Miles x Fem!Black!Reader

ᴅ☆ᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴀʏ|

Hi chatt, unuh miss me? 🙂.

Anywho, part 3 of this thing

I been inactive but I swrr it's just school, I been inactive n shit but I still love writing and adore Spider-verse (I'm still hyper fixated. Helpp.)

Also looks like I have part 4&5 to give after I properly proofread, bye lovess

These past few weeks in Earth 42 have been quite eventful to say the least. Not to mention you breaking the promise to yourself that you'll never fall in love with Miles Morales ever again. I mean, it was inevitable really. Who wouldn't fall in love if someone looked at them like that?

Leading up to school Miles got everything in order for you.

Your hair? Who knew your man was a cosmetologist cause he did you right by that electric blue dye

Clothes? Bought and paid in fulll

He made sure you had common knowledge of everything. Places, people, lingo, social norms even drama, he went as far as teaching you basic fighting techniques.

"I know it may hurt tesoro, but you need to learn. I'm not gonna be there every time to save you."

One thing that had you on ice though was when he brought in fake identification with your new credentials that did not look fake at all. Truly, you didn't want to question it, but your face said what your mouth didn't. Now you looked at the papers then at Miles, back and forth, back and forth.

"I know you have questions, just ask" He spoke up, breaking the unneeded awkward silence when he did.

"I didn't even say anything to you" I retorted

"Good"

That came off with more sass than it should've, from both of you at that.

I hate his attitude at times. "Miles, sit down."

He sat himself where he did before, bracing himself deeper into the chair. "My eyes are up here by the way. "

He laughed when I hissed. Yuh bright bad. Slowly the playful air in the room dissipated, a more serious feel emerging. Miles cleared his throat, he was nervous, okayy. I still kicked my feet while being on the bed, waiting patiently for him to start.

"(y/n)" his leg started to bounce involuntarily

My eyes shifted to him, they already were but this time I looked into his eyes. Lord knows I was not the one for eye contact, so I hid the other half of my face with a pillow. Because, I was ready to giggle, and I don't think it was the time for that.

"You, and I know about how I feel about keeping secrets from each other"

My eyebrows furrowed, but it was true though. Miles told me everything he could remember , his allergies, favorites, dislikes, pet peeves. Even the most personal shit like how the house we shared was a piece of land paid in full by his father before he passed— one for him and another for his mamá. Like I said, everything.

And I never judged him for any of it, no reason to, but right now, I am not familiar or comfortable with this tone. I nodded for him to continue, visibly skeptical of what was to come next.

"And I've been giving you the half-assed truth about what I do. My uncle and I, we work fo- with this man. Kingpin, and the shit we do isn't necessarily good either. I fight, steal, hurt people, a bunch of stuff"

Knowing Miles he would've went on with the list trying to "be transparent" . Drawing an inference he stopped noticing my widened eyes , I wasn't shocked at him. No, it was the insane ass plot twist. In the other dimension it was just Aaron and Kingpin, yikes. Miles gave me my look, my look when I'm signaling for questions or something to make a situation less awkward.

"You kill people? "

He nodded

"Often?"

"They must've sent the feds on my ass"

I wasn't pissed, I swear, but the hitched lip and narrowed eyes inflicted a response from him. He relaxed his shoulders , but he still looked perplexed.

"Never have, almost broke the streak after-" I put up a hand in front of him, stopping whatever he was going say next. I do not care about what you do inside that suit, whatever you want handsome.

I stared blankly, randomly looking over at him when I heard his breathing heavy.

"You're not scared of me right?" He stammered a bit, aw

"Do you plan on hurting me?"

"I know you're not stupid" Just cause yah man nuh mean seh yuh fi wicked

I watch him rest his elbows to the edge of his thighs, I copied his hand placements from before, head in palms, a W over my lower features.

He sighed.

"No, never, nunca baby"

"Then there's your answer: no, never, nunca" Nah call yuh baby too much cause yahv mi siddung like yam inna basket.

--------------

Then came the time when your results for Brooklyn Visions were to arrive. Given that they decided to send the letter a mere two days before school opened was criminal. Already anxious, it didn't help that it was one of those days where Miles was absent for almost all 24hrs.

Your stomach flipped on end, contemplating what to do if you didn't get in, what to tell Miles— you couldn't just stay here doing nothing for the whole day, waste style that. The what if's had you on edge, not wanting to open the letter, so—... you didn't.

Waking up from an afternoon nap, you felt disoriented with no remembrance of earlier. Somewhat aware of the time difference of then till now you went downstairs looking for Miles and instead went for the letter. Although a delayed reaction you shrieked at the words in bold : You're Accepted!. The lingering decibels drew Miles down frantically observing that he didn't even take off his left gauntlet. Seeming as though you were safe, he went up after a while then came back down— to shower presumably, he hated having you near him after he's gone out.

"I got in!"

-------- (Skipped a few lines cause I'm lazy)

"Miles, stop kissing my face, you're gonna bring out my cheeks"

Any average person would've, but not Miles— he wasn't average.

"(y/n), can you leave me alone to give my esposa affection in peace?"

" 'Esposa', yeah right" I scoffed, rightful title

“I don't know what's going on in that pretty little head of yours but dios mio, sure isn't working right.”

Removing the arm from around my body, he took his phone from his pocket and placed it blatantly on the armrest of the couch. Securing his hands on my hips he moved me to the kitchen island then on top of the counter. I stayed put like a porcelain doll in showcase— not that I hated getting treated by him the way he did. Elevating himself on his palms he rubbed the sides of our faces together then pushed himself into my neck.

“Miles, are you a dog?”

“Whatever you want me to be”

Laying down on the counter, his head was adjacent to my thigh. Wrapping an arm around the width he dragged me closer, diminishing any little space left between his head and my body. Placing kisses along the length, I tangled a hand into his hair, massaging and drawing patterns into his scalp. After some time my neck and back started to hurt, constantly I began to rub them and groan. Miles noticed from the glances he took every now and then. He mumbled something into my thigh.

“I'm sorry, I didn't hear you”

“Can we stay a bit longer—... please”

I passed him a re-assuring smile. Bringing himself back down he brought a hand of mine with him, toying with it and doing whatever. When I felt it lay flat on his face I assumed he had fallen asleep. Still, my body ached but I didn't want to leave him here by himself.

What could I do without him?

Shit.

After (what I thought were) three quiet yawns later Miles woke up, somewhat. I figured he wasn't fully conscious but enough to piece together the fact that I hadn't left even though I was still hurting. Sitting up, he flexed his wrists, arms, and other limbs, gathering strength before taking me off the counter and placing me on his bed. Instead of the usual hug as our sleeping position, he put a hand on my nape and lower back, kneading away more pain than I were aware of.

"Why didn't you leave?" I wonder

"I would've been bored alone"

"C'mon, you'd be sleeping"

I physically can't nor do I want to sleep without you.

Shaking my head, I held onto his shirt, initiating some type of contact before his hands were free. I looked up at him, completely in disbelief that once again, once more I fell in love with Miles Gonzalo Morales. And he's going to be my doom, I know it

Miless p.o.v

One, I don't think she realizes she said that out loud, and two, you know that feeling when your organs get flushed out and replaced with butterflies? That's basically how I felt. And believe me, half of the time I don't know what to say to her, whatever I say, I just do. She's perfect, mine to ruin, but I don't want to do that, I don't want to hurt her.

She's attached to me— deeply. While that may not be a bad thing, it isn't good either. I've studied (y/n) for a while within us being together, she's the 'i love you so that means I'd die for you' type but I can't let that happen. If anyone's sacrificing themself for the other its me— I wasn't raised otherwise, she hasn't taught me to love otherwise. Crucify me after for leaving my beautiful tesoro on the earth by herself, id deserve it. And I definitely think I'm the only one deserving of her.

Props to the jackass that fumbled, forever grateful to you.

Before I could answer, her hand fell flat against my chest, the warmth of it tugging me into sleep with her.

---------------------------------------------––----------------------------------------------

Waking up, I saw a blue sky instead of the black abyss I was accustomed to . This became a regular thing since I started sleeping with her— physically, not y'know, she says she's not ready for that. Often, I had to push back meetings and missions with my uncle because of it.

Shit, speaking of that, today I intend to ask my uncle for at least 2 months of off jobs, and I know he'll come through, hopefully. School re-opens tomorrow, and while it's my first time back, it'll be her first time ever. I can't nor do I want to miss this for her.

Getting up, (y/n) gripped tightly onto my shirt forcing me to stay down. They were just her reflexes coming into play, but I still complied, waiting until she was comfortable to get up. From what happened I do not want to wake this girl up again. She placed her head onto my leg, be it any other day I would've stayed until she woke up, but if I wanted those months off I'd need to get my phone somewhere in the kitchen.

------------------------------------------(6:37pm)------------------------------------------

With minimal back and forth, Uncle Aaron and I settled on 3months no jobs (he'd cover) with me coming in every Saturday 9-10, am to pm to keep overview on plan Burn Brooklyn. I promise it isn't what it sounds like.

Handing me my bag, he went behind his mini- bar and poured out something— Bailey's probably. Man is addicted to that shit. I understand though, kinda. What a time when he let me go through his cabinets after a fight with (y/n), I was a mess. She called me a hot mess.

Draping an arm around my neck, he noticed that unlike times before, instead of slanting downwards his arm tilted up.

"You're growing up, and fast Miles" Using the strength from his arm he turned us around to face the windows. Sunrises never intrigued me, but the sunsets were something else. He took a small swig at the cup before continuing.

"You're finding love, making it out, doing your best" I noticed hand movements from him at the corner of my eye. Uncle Aaron was crying. Uncle Aaron is crying.

"If I found a piece more of myself in you I'd say that you were just like me when I fell for yo—" He cleared his throat, stopping himself.

"You're not just doing this for us are you, she's involved isn't she"

I wasn't going to lie to Uncle Aaron over a question, I didn't even give him a answer to what he already knows. Despite the constant liquor intake he produced a smooth laugh, his hand repeatedly patting my bag.

"I like her a lot Uncle Aaron"

"Like is a feeble word for what you two have, we're happy to see you like this"

"we?"

"Rio and I"

So it's everybody in our business? Cool

--------------------------

I'd prefer above all things walking beside my love to go home like we usually do, but unfortunately he had to call out of school. Typical, atleast he trusts me enough to walk home by myself, and with what I've learned from him I'm sure to be alright.

"Hand in your pocket hermosa, the watch looks shiny and that's what they like out here"

"Walk only where I showed you, if not the safest area but it's safer"

And he's referring to roads nearby Aaron's house so he's always here and there if I need him. It's ironic that a "criminal" makes the city safer for me and not some superficial superhero.

Sudden thuds draw me back to reality, what the hell? I recognize that thing, it's what I came through— a portal.

Fada God.

Action resumes on the road adjacent to me, an escapee of some sort and someone running after them.

My heart and pace speeds up as I stare through my peripheral at the hero of the encounter. Those where they can peep from buildings, street corners and alleyways at the commotion. It's something no one has ever seen, except for a comics con nerd. I'm not one, but I know exactly who that person is— the figure and combat style is just too familiar.

Fada. God. Not today. Abeg. Please.

"Is that Spiderman? And not just any Spiderman… Is that thee fucking Miles Morales?"

-----------------------------------------

Still re-wrote everything cause life didn't end when Tumblr decided to delete it 🙂.

It's kinda short, but work with it until I can update more tmrw on it 🙂.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

It’s Been A Long, Long Time 🥀 | Fallout AU P.1

Set after the events of S1 of Fallout

Masterlists | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Characters & Pairings: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x super soldier!reader (romantic), reader x male!oc (past romance), reader x Chester Phillips (past romance), Lucy Maclean (platonic)

Content warnings: Fallout x Marvel AU, profanity, angst, mentions of death, violence, age gap (reader is physically in her 40s, Cooper in his 50s, but they are both hundreds of years old), cannon divergence, suggestive themes, strangers/enemies-to-friends-to-lovers | female!reader (she/her) | wc about 6k

Premise: When Lucy and Cooper stumbled upon the remnants of an abandoned underground facility in what used to be the Nation's capital, they are quick to explore in hopes of finding supplies and information on Vault-Tec. However, the two are in for the shock of their lives when they accidentally awaken a woman housed in a cryogenic chamber, whose historical significance can be traced back to the Second World War. Not to mention she possesses a valuable substance scientists have been eager to replicate for centuries. And after traveling for months, Cooper finds himself battling emotions he kept dormant for centuries, when they form a bond only the two former soldiers could understand. 

Note: Alright so idk how this happened but it was exactly it was the result of me hyperfixating on an idea for almost two weeks until I broke and had to get it out on paper (docs 💀) Enjoy!

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“What was it like?” Lucy’s voice breaks through the peaceful silence of the night. The moon was full and high in the sky. After a long day of traveling the group had finally made camp, exhausted from the day which involved a typical shootout with raiders and scavenging for information on Vault-Tec. Lucy’s voice was full of curiosity, her face illuminated by the fire as she ogled at the woman seated across from her. Elbows perched on her knees while leaning her chin on clasped hands. Only offering a raise of her brow to convey she heard Lucy’s question when the girl began to question if she did or not.

“You mean the war? Or life in general?” Came the reply, her transatlantic accent thick. The woman not taking her eyes off the fire to meet the girl’s eager stare. If any other lost soul in the Wasteland overheard the conversation they’d be quick to believe she was talking about the Great War. 

Only….it was far from it. 

“Everything,” Lucy failed at hiding her desperation, earning a warning glare from Cooper, whose ears perked up the second Lucy asked the question. The cowboy leaned against his own log off to the side of the woman. Legs crossed and hat slightly pulled down to the brim of his eyes. 

This time the woman looked at Lucy. Except she didn’t so much as move her body, only shifting her eye to glance from the side. “I thought you both read my file. And watched the tapes I recorded.”

“We did,” Lucy admitted, offering a nervous smile, “But reading about history is vastly different than when you hear it first hand from someone who lived through it. When I taught the kids in my vault they always preferred watching the holotapes rather than the books that’d been preserved. And so much from the 20th century had been lost….” her words fall short at the crossed look she received from Cooper. A warning. 

Heat rising to her cheeks, Lucy reiterated and in doing so began to ramble, “I-I mean I only ask if you’re comfortable with talking about it. Sorry I should’ve been more considerate--I know it’s a sensitive topic with-- I-I mean you just woke up not even two weeks ago to find 345 years have passed--,” Cooper was about five seconds from shutting the girl up with a tranq, looking at her like she’d grown two heads. “--and America is not how you left it. Oh God I’m being really insensitive--I am so sorry,” Lucy’s mouth snaps as the woman cuts her off with a tired sigh. 

It’s not like the woman was upset with Lucy’s question. Aware the former vault dueller had previously been a history teacher and enjoyed learning about the pre-war era, as well as the 300+ years America once was. Curiosity was natural. But one had to accept the reality that the truth was not sunshine and rainbows.

As she contemplated the next words to say, her mind traced back ten days ago. Where she awoke to a new world…or what her companions called, a wasteland.

“Well what do we have ‘ere,” Cooper’s southern drawl rang out against the walls of the elevator as he lifted the gate up to see where it had taken him and Lucy. There he was met with what appeared to be a large room connected to a hallway that seemed to go on and on. ‘Strange,’ he thought, hand hovering over his pistol. Ready for any oncoming attack.

When he and Lucy stumbled upon the rusted elevator shaft on the surface on what used to be an old military installation--not far from Vault 108, initially they believed it to be a secret vault. One Vault-Tec kept hidden and out of the public eye for God knows what. Unethical experiments. Research. Possibly to house government officials, considering it was located in good ole Washington D.C. 

Well what was left of it. 

Yeah, even America’s great capital wasn’t safe from the nukes. Leveled to bits just like the rest of the country. Kinda comical when one thinks about it. Why were they there exactly? Well, the trail to Lucy’s father and the many secrets of Vault-Tec led the two on a wild goose chase. For months until they reached the east coast where they hoped to find some answers.

However, whatever this place was, was far from the typical vaults they were used to. In fact it wasn’t a vault at all.

Stepping out of the elevator shaft, the space was pitch black making it hard to see all the facility had to offer. Not to mention if any threats were lying in wait. Cooper found the switch on his right and quickly flipped it up. Light flickering as it filled up the space and down the corridor. 

Cooper moved further in while Lucy trailed behind, eyes wide with wonder as she took in her surroundings, “woah.”

“Woah indeed…” he agreed, nudging his hat up to get a better look, “What the hell?” The bunker was definitely pre-war, but seriously dated to the point the man wouldn’t put it past it to be 20th century. Hardly ransacked---which probably was the biggest surprise. It made him wonder just how long it had been abandoned without discovery. 

Filing cabinets lined the walls, old desktop computers. Chalk boards and typewriters. Not a trace of robots. Hell there was even a Coca-Cola vending machine. Now that was a relic. Coca-cola disappeared back in 2044 when Nuka-Cola was introduced. If Cooper thought hard enough, he could still taste the original soft drink on his tongue. A sweet sweet lick of nostalgia.

Unsure where to begin, Cooper decided to start on his right by approaching the giant mural of a six-winged eagle surrounded by 50 stars. Obviously to represent the states of America. Painted below in bold red letters, S.H.I.E.L.D. 

“Shield,” he tested the word, a sense of familiarity surfacing as his brain picked at it. “Where have I heard that?” Lucy came to his side, eyes locked on the mural. Also trying to figure out what it meant. 

“Could it be some type of pre-war agency?” she wondered aloud, casting a glance at Cooper. “Like the CIA or FBI? Or a subunit of Vault-Tec” She received a hum. 

“Seems likely,” moving away, Cooper accessed the cabinet closest to him. Dust flinging in the air when the drawer was pulled, revealing a heap of carefully organized files. Grabbing the first one Cooper found the meaning behind the name, which took the air out of him. Now he understood why it sounded so familiar. It was something his once marine self had been briefed on when in basic training. 

“What is it?” Lucy questioned his dumbstruck expression. 

Shaking his head, “This ain’t the work of Vault-Tec, sweetheart,” Cooper motioned at the mural, “That ther’ anagram, it stands for the Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement Logistics Division.” Passing over the file to her Cooper grabbed another. “Now I know you said yer’ some history buff, but this…..you gotta be involved in some deep shit to know about this.”

Lucy read over the document, brows furrowed, “Wait, I know about this. We learned about SHIELD in the vaults, not much but the important parts--that it was a counter-terrorism intelligence organization and a successor of the Strategic Scientific Reserve from World War Two….” her eyes widened, processing what she just said. They were in a SHIELD facility?

They continued to walk the facility, rummaging through files of former persons of interests and government officials. Lucy took interest with the photographs she found. Getting a peak of life in America during the 20th and early 21st century. Meanwhile Cooper searched for useful supplies. Hoping there’d be a knife or displaced gun. 

“This is so cool,” Lucy held a sepia photo of President John F. Kennedy shaking hands with Shield co-founder Agent Peggy Carter. Beneath it was one of the Berlin Wall coming down. “I can’t believe how well these held up.” Her eyes caught a black & white picture dated in 1947 of Hollywood actresses Natalie Wood and Rita Hayworth posing with a beautiful woman who looked like she belonged with them. All smiling at the camera, but unlike the actresses the mystery woman’s smile was closed and didn’t reach her eyes. Lucy didn’t recognize her, but made a mental note to see if she could find any other information on her. Assuming she must’ve been important for the photo to end up at the SHIELD base. 

Entering a room near the end of the vast hallway, an eerie feeling came over the two. So suddenly it made Lucy’s stomach take a turn, “that’s weird.” Cooper didn’t respond but internally he felt the same. Something about the room was unpleasant. But they couldn’t put a finger on it.

Unlike the other rooms, the two had to become tech whizzes to decipher the lockbox. A rather difficult task as the technology was ancient. In their research they discovered SHIELD founded in the 1950s. Then Cooper had to think back to his history lessons in basic to remember the organization disbanded in 2014. Almost ten years before Cooper was born. 

“What happened,” Lucy questioned. 

“Rats in the system,” Cooper put it short, but upon her confused face he explained further. “They were infiltrated, early on too, by the terrorist organization they were fighting against.” 

The girl frowned, not expecting that reason and wondered just how long it had been going on. For an agency of their nature to be infiltrated by the enemy, leading to their downfall.  “That’s unfortunate,” her statement earned a sound of agreement from the cowboy. 

More cabinets. More files. More questions they wanted answers to. 

And answers they’ll…somewhat get. In the form of a 345 year old cryogenic woman…..who was SHIELD’s lost super soldier. 

Okay so it was an accident. They didn’t mean to unfreeze the woman after they stumbled upon her pod hidden beneath the floors of where the lead scientists desk laid. And no wonder it took an arm and a leg to get into the room. It was the office of the man SHIELD recruited from HYDRA. 

And he harbored a major secret. 

“Well what should we do in the meantime?” Lucy felt uneasy, staring at the pod which was in the process of defrosting. Frightened at what waited for them. If she had been asleep for as long as the person inside and woke up to a world blown to bits, Lucy’d have a meltdown. The thought alone combined with the icy temperature filling the room caused chills to rise on her arms. 

“Don’t know. Maybe try and find out who the hell this is,” Cooper suggested, moving away from the pod to see what he could find. Staring with the scientists' desk, thinking it’d be the key.

Leaning over to peer into the window, noticing the ice had slowly started to melt, Lucy’s eyes widened. “Holy moly! She’s the woman from the photo!” 

“What photo?” Cooper glanced up, eyes narrowed with suspicion. 

Lucy made a motion with her hand, “I saw a photo in the other room of a woman standing with Natalie Wood and Rita Hayworth, but I couldn’t recognize her.” She pointed to the pod, face riddled with shock. “It’s her! She’s the mystery woman in the photo.” Suddenly Lucy realized something, “That was dated 1947…..” 

Cooper caught on to what she was saying. Moving hastily to pull out files from the drawers and handing her a stack, “Well let’s try to find more about our frozen popsicle.” They got work, Lucy perching herself on the desk while Cooper remained crouching on the floor. Reading for what felt like hours of decades worth of information the scientist had on SHIELD and HYDRA. Playing the waiting game while the woman defrosted from her pod. 

“How long will it take?” Lucy plopped another file on the floor after finishing it, moving to the next. 

“Not sure,” Cooper licked his lip to turn a page, reading about the assassination of a political figure SHIELD investigated. “Could be minutes. Could be hours. Once that thing warms up, who knows how long before she wakes.”

“What a surprise she’s in for.” Cooper grumbled in agreement, making Lucy frown, deep in thought. “How do you think she’ll react?” Now usually Cooper would’ve told her enough with the questions, but he was plagued with the same thought.

How would she react? They didn’t know anything about the woman except she’d been asleep for at least 300+ years. Truthfully Cooper was expecting her to lash out. It would be the most reasonable reaction to the horrifying truth. Either that or breakdown in a heap of tears. Honestly, maybe she’ll do both.

“I don’t know, vaultie. What would you do?” That made her fall silent which he was hoping for. The two return their focus back to the files. Losing hope by the second of finding the mysterious woman. There had to be something on her in the stack. After all, she was in a cryo pod hidden in the floor. Of a mad scientist. 

About five minutes later Lucy’s amplified gasp nearly had Cooper jump, turning to find her shell-shocked at whatever lay within the file she was holding. “What is it, 33?”

“Cooper this--this doesn’t make sense,” Lucy’s eyes read furiously over the papers, astonishment in her face. Refusing to believe what the file was telling her. But the picture was clear as day. Matching the face in the pod. 

Cooper looked at her wearily, “What is it, vaultie?” 

She looked like she’d seen a ghost. “The woman in the pod,” she held the file out, still in disbelief. Lucy’s mind raced with a million questions, fearful of the answers as she pushed the papers to him, “This is her.” 

Snatching the file, Cooper gave the girl an odd once over before drawing his gaze down on the file. There he saw what she was referring to. Eyes landing first on the sepia photograph stapled on the front. It was the first time Cooper was seeing the woman since he hadn’t seen the picture Lucy mentioned earlier and was already occupied with the desk to look in the pods window. 

She was beautiful. Ethereal. A timeless beauty like many women of the 1900s with a face people would kill for. In the photo she was posing with her right shoulder out, dressed in a crisp Army uniform, Captain ranks--which Cooper recognized and gave an impressed whistle under his breath--reflecting the light of the camera flash. Hair curled typical for the time, classy makeup. The man would be lying if he said he wouldn’t do a double take in the streets if he saw her walking down. 

Then Cooper got to reading, hairless brows raising to his scarred skull and he swore his heart stopped. “Ain’t no fuckin’ way.” 

There it was clear as day. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. File #0002

Project Rebirth -- Subject xxxx-xxxx

Name: Dr. Y/n M/n Andrews (neé L/n)   DOB: XX X 1908    SSN: xxx-xx-xxxx

Birthplace: Manhattan, New York, USA    Document Citizenship: United States

Education: Doctorate of Physics, Massachusetts Institute of Technology 

Title: Advisor, Agent (formerly), soldier (formerly) Alias: Eagle

Rank: First Officer (WAAC); Captain (U.S Army)

Clearance: Level 10

Family: Captain Timothy Nile Andrews (husband--m.1933/deceased--d.1944)

Beatrice E. Andrews (daughter--b.1935), Henry T. Andrews (son--b.1939), Charlene L. Phillips (daughter--b.1949)

Howard A. Stark (Cousin)

Language(s): English, Spanish, German, Italian, Russian

Affiliation(s): MIT, Stark Industries, Strategic Scientific Reserve, United States Army, WAAC 107th Infantry Regiment, Howling Commandos, Steve Rogers--Captain America

Wars/Battles: Second World War

Cooper whistled, reading over the first page one more time before moving onto the next. A beauty and brains with a fighting heart. She was a soldier, a pretty damn good one at that with all her career accomplishments with the Army and World War Two. A genius by the looks of her contributions to physics prior to the war. 

Presidential Medal of Honor. Key to the City of Manhattan. Honorary Advisor of MIT’s Department of Physics. Contributor on many research articles and projects, including the Project Rebirth Cooper saw on the first page. His brows furrowed at the part where it said Y/n was also a Co-founder of SHIELD.

Now if that was true, then why was the woman trapped in a cryo pod? From the file alone Cooper could tell she was an important figure in American history. What had she done to earn her a one way ticket to frozen land?

Cooper’s hand stilled in the air after turning to the final page of Y/n’s file, the header in bold: Advancements to physiology following fusion of the Super Soldier Serum. “What the fuck?”

Description: After a successful transformation of implementing the Super Soldier Serum created by Dr. Erskine into the subject’s biological makeup, Dr. L/n-Andrews physiological improvements have exceeded expectations--in accordance with the results seen from Subject #0001, Steve Rogers. Dr. L/n-Andrews psychological responses lack abnormalities, cognition skills are excellent. IQ remains in the 160-179 range. Subjects’ blood tests show changes in DNA--more tests shall be conducted for further analysis. 

Attributes/Skills--before serum: Strategy, marksmanship, logistics, leadership, tradecraft, hand-to-hand combat

Attributes/Skills--after serum: Superhuman strength, enhanced agility, accelerated healing, slowed aging, enhanced immune system. 

Security threat level: high (dated 08/15/1951)

Cooper read over the file a second time. Not just to render his disbelief but also commit it to memory. He’d seen a lot of shit in his elongated life, but never did he expect he’d be dealing with a real life runaway supersoldier. 

More like a superhero.

“Cooper, what does this mean?” Lucy’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. The man glanced to find her chewing on her fingernails, anxiety all over her face.

“It means we’ve just woken up a superhuman from World War II, vaultie. Plain as day.” He kept his own concerns hidden, not willing to worry Lucy further. They’ll deal with the potential threat once she wakes up. 

Until then, they wait. 

During their search to find more on Dr. Y/n L/n-Andrews, they hit the jackpot when Cooper stumbled on a dusty box full of video tapes. Not holotapes that have been the standard since 2063. Video. Thankfully there was an old 20th century TV equipped with a VHS system. Talk about old school. 

Popping one in, labeled CA & EG Ad ‘42, Cooper claimed the seat in front of the desk while Lucy stayed in her spot. After a few seconds to allow the dinosaur television to turn on, black and white static filled the screen. Then a moment later the image became clear showing two figures they now had names to faces. Y/n L/n-Andrews & Steve Rogers. 

“Hello, America I’m Steve Rogers,” the blonde man waved, decked in his Captain America suit. Cooper made a face, not really impressed with the man attempting to be America’s sweetheart. 

Well to be fair he definitely fit the image. 

“And I’m Y/n Andrews,” the beautiful woman beamed, pearly white teeth flashing the camera. She had a strong transatlantic accent, popular of their time and heard amongst those in entertainment and high class society. A dialect teetering on the edge of half-British and half-American. Where basically the letter ‘r’ was nonexistent and vowels were elongated to make words sound more posh. Her outfit was similar to Steve’s in the sense it was obviously a tactical suit, but where his resembled the American flag, Y/n’s had the image of an eagle. “You may recognize us from the occasional radio infomercial or have seen our faces in your local recruiting office.” 

Steve pointed to the camera, “And we’re here to tell you that America needs all the help across the pond. Whether it be donating to the Red Cross or enlisting in the Army to become a proud soldier--.” 

“Don’t forget the Army Nurses Corps, Steve,” Y/n gently cut him off, still smiling and Cooper wondered if she was in pain. Relating to all the times he had to do those damn Vault-Tec ads. “They’re looking for determined, bright, exceptional ladies ready to provide our boys on the frontlines with the best care.”

“That’s right, Y/n,” Steve agreed, grinning at her briefly. The advertisement was the typical propaganda one sees during a war. Hiding the horrors, trying to get people to sign their life away to fight in something they didn’t ask for. Cooper heard it all. 

And as a former soldier and spokesperson, the bounty hunter picked up on how uncomfortable Y/n was, despite trying to hide it. Acting most definitely not her forte. The smile not reaching her eyes as well as her posture being tense. At times Cooper caught her looking past the camera where her face shifted before replacing it with the fake expression. Her demeanor screamed she wanted to be rescued. Like she’d rather get her hands dirty than being a showgirl for the American people.

Lucy scanned through the box of tapes, reading over the labels until deciding on the one marked, Debrief--Phillips, Andrews, Stark, & Carter, ‘45. What caught her attention was the first name, Phillips, it was the same last name of Y/n’s third child listed on the file. Then there was Stark, the name of her cousin. “The Second World War ended what year?” 

“Nineteen-forty-five.”

“Hmmm,” Lucy pressed play on the tv once the tape was in, moving back to her seat, but not before checking the pod. The ice had completely froze but Y/n had yet to wake up. The clock was ticking and Lucy grew nervous. Placing her attention back on the screen, “This has all the names of the people that founded SHIELD.” Cooper’s interest perked, the man straightening in the chair. Ready to put faces to names. 

“Why are you video taping this, Stark?” Peeking through the static, a feminine British voice was heard off screen sounding distressed and emotional. The camera focused on a table, where the two spotted Y/n seated while an older man in an army uniform stood beside her. Y/n appeared exhausted while the man nursed a drink. Then another woman in uniform, the one they believed had been speaking off screen, emerged and poured herself a glass of whatever the group was drinking. 

“So we have this on record,” a man’s voice, Howard Stark, entered. And based on the way the picture went wobbly, he must’ve been behind the video recorder. Adjusting the device so it remained focused on the table. Once satisfied he took his place beside the older man. Based on his ranks Cooper deemed him to be a Colonel. “Lighten up, Carter.”

“Do not tell her to lighten up,” Y/n’s tone was hard, lifting her gaze from the table to glare at her cousin before returning it. “Steve was your friend, Howard, have some respect.”

Lucy’s hand raised to her chest, right where she felt her heart sink. Overcome with a wave of sadness for the group who’d been deeply affected by what had transpired before recording the tape. Cooper understood the implication. Steve was gone.

Another detail the cowboy pieced together was the fact the older man, the Colonel, had to have been the Phillips the tape label referred to. Now that Cater was revealed to be the woman and Howard was indeed Y/n’s cousin. Meaning the Colonel was the father of Y/n’s youngest daughter. 

‘Now that’s a surprise,’ Cooper thought to himself, and based on the stunned look of his companion, Lucy thought so too. He had to have at least 20 years on Y/n.

“You don’t need to remind me,” Howard gruffed, reaching for the bottle and slamming it down roughly once his drink was poured. “But we’ve got important matters at stake right now. And we’d be letting him down--after what he sacrificed--if we waste our time wallowing instead of getting to work.”

“What important matters could you possibly be referring to?” 

“You know what,” this time the Colonel spoke, his deep voice radiating off the screen. His words caused Y/n to stiffen, slowly looking up to find him staring at her with a serious expression. “And if we don’t act fast now the feds are going to be on our doorstep quicker than a hot turkey on Thanksgiving day.”

Agent Carter's face turned dark, standing close to Y/n to lay a protective hand on her shoulder, “I think this conversation can wait, Chester. The war just ended, Y/n is still grieving her loss and--.” 

“I’m well aware and while I share her grief, I’ve got Senators calling with demands of what ought to happen now that America's super soldier is gone! We need a plan to keep them distracted.” The rest of the video mostly consisted of the group arguing with neither Lucy or Cooper able to grasp what exactly the soldiers were trying to exactly hide from the government. But based on the body language of everyone, the cowboy leading theory pointed at the doctor, and the serum coursing in her veins.

During their watch of Y/n giving a solo advertisement to recruit women to the Women’s Army Corps from 1942, they hadn’t realized how much time had passed. And although not an actress in her own light, Cooper felt himself drawn to the woman on the screen. She was enticing. The type of woman people both admired and envied. 

And with a sunken heart, Cooper related to her now more than ever. 

On their sixth tape, and evidently their last one, the duo were rather unnerved by the title. Sharing a look as Lucy took the initiative to place it in the system. 

House Committee Hearing ‘50

Lucy bit at her nails again, the skin red and irritated as she took her seat. A sickening feeling in her stomach. The anxiety was becoming unbearable, but they still had no clue when Y/n would wake up. Really they needed to form a plan, but they were too immersed in learning the woman’s history. 

“For the record today’s date is Monday the tenth of April, nineteen fifty and it is the first day of the congressional hearings on the matters of Strategic Scientific Reserve’s suspected authorization of the Super Soldier Serum on Dr. Y/n Andrews.”

Well things just got interesting. Cooper and Lucy now certain this hearing was what Chester referred to in the debrief tape. Congress had finally summoned them in regards to Y/n’s nature. 

The screen showed a man in a suit and rounded glasses seated in front of a microphone with a stack of papers. A marker reading Senator Bures placed directly in front of the mic. Other suited men sat around him with the American flag draped on the wall behind the chamber. Then the image flickered to a table. Y/n sat in between Chester and a man with a briefcase, who Cooper instantly registered as a lawyer. A gallery of people and photographers filled the space, Peggy and Howard in the front row. 

“Please state your name for the record.” The soldiers obliged and were then instructed to swear under oath. Cooper leaned forward, finger on his lips as he watched Y/n place her hand on the bible and repeat the words spoken to her. Deeply interesting on what the hearing would entail. One thing was clear: the government was threatened by Y/n. 

After some introduction questions, mostly directed to Chester and the beginning states of Project Rebirth, the attention turned to Y/n. “Dr. Andrews,” Senator Johnson spoke into his mic. “What was your initial involvement in Project Rebirth.”

Y/n leaned towards her own mic, hands clasped on the table. “I was a collaborator on the project alongside Dr. Erskine. As Colonel Phillips stated, he recruited my cousin and I in 1942 and I worked closely with Dr. Erskine because of my work on radiation physics.” Cooper and Lucy shared another glance. Y/n specialized in radiation physics? 

“How exactly does radiation physics play into the serum, Doctor?”

“We were working with particles, Senator. Particles with high speed energy and electromagnetic waves,” her tone was calm, neutral. Not given any indication she was under pressure and reporting like the scientist she was. “Dr. Erskine’s serum was, at its core, radioactive. It completely changed the biological makeup of the recipient. In our case, Captain Rogers. My role was to observe and record the effects of the serum on the human body. Specifically the level of radiation.” 

They asked a few more questions about Y/n’s work. Including her reports on the serum and its effect on Steve Rogers. Then it got to the whole reason they were having the hearing; did Y/n inject herself with the serum?

Now Lucy and Cooper obviously knew the truth. She was a supersoldier and fought on the frontlines. The file didn’t lie. The question was if the government knew as well. And by the looks of it, they didn’t. 

“Doctor, we have reason to believe you and members of the SSR conducted an unauthorized demonstration in which you, Dr. Andrews, underwent the transformation of injecting the super soldier into your bloodstream on the 22nd of August 1943.” Murmurs in the background suggested the audience were hearing it for the first time. Minus of course Howard and Peggy, who visibly stiffened behind Y/n.

Y/I head tilted up in defiance, “Your evidence?” Her voice was strong, confident. Cooper felt himself captivated by the way she commanded the room. 

“Doctor,” Senator Franz, removed his glasses. “It was reported all remaining vials of the super soldier serum were destroyed following Mr. Rogers demonstration.”

“That is correct.”

“A witness, who wishes to remain anonymous, has come forward saying that on the 22nd of August 1943, you, your late husband Captain Timothy Andrews, Colonel Phililps, Captain Rogers, Agent Carter, and Mr. Stark were seen in a restricted area for approximately three hours. They say you were carrying a briefcase and upon leaving the restricted area, your physicality had changed. Care to explain?” 

Y/n, again, was neutral, “To put it simply, Senator, we were having a meeting discussing Captain Rogers and I’s unit, the Howling Commandos. In the briefcase were maps and strategy plans to analyze. Nothing more, so I do not understand why this witness has assumed we even possessed a vial of the serum when all were destroyed in 1942.” 

The men didn’t look convinced, “That’s what we want to know. And it is not only this witness, Doctor, several soldiers who were on the frontlines claim you displayed unusual strength at times.”

“Well forgive me for saying this,” she was now smiling, but it wasn’t genuine at all, “but men refuse to believe women are capable of certain areas, strength for example, that are expected of them. It’s already enough for my intellect to be questioned,” Straightening her posture, Y/n went on to say, “Gentlemen, I was not only a doctor for the SSR, I was also a soldier. Therefore I trained like one--which my late husband and Captain Rogers were kind enough to assist me with. What that witness saw was my progress.” Cooper couldn’t help the amazed laugh that slipped out.

“Is she…” Lucy pointed to the screen, also astonished, “gaslighting the government?”

“She damn sure is,” Cooper laughed again. The balls this woman had rivaled some of the producers and agents he’d worked with in Hollywood. 

As the tape rolled on more back and forth happened between Y/n and the senators. They’d attempt to invalidate her story, she’d rebuff with the perfect response. Dismissing their claims and providing evidence of her own to counter it. Chester and the lawyer were asked questions as well, backing up Y/n which strengthened their side. 

It was a heated debate. One that lasted nearly an hour and had started to run its course. Congress was starting to lose the upper hand. And the defense was becoming exhausted. 

“Before we adjourn this hearing there is one last thing I have to say,” the room was eerily silent, the senators voice carrying throughout the space. Cooper saw the frustration in his face. Wondering where the hell he and his fellow chamber members got it all wrong. “We may not have all the evidence to convict you and the rest of SHIELD’s founders of anything today, but make no mistake,” His glare was stern, threatening. “We will be watching. And if we find the slightest confirmation, Doctor, that you are carrying the super soldier serum, you will be locked in a military prison for the rest of your life and subjected to experimentation.”

Y/n remained quiet, the threat lingering in the room as her gaze never wavered from the man. Movement from the side indicated Chester likely placing a hand on the woman, offering a comforting hand. “Understood,” the tone in her voice was impartial. “You may have your suspicions and conduct your investigations, but the truth of what took place in August of 1942 was laid before you today. America had their super soldier and he sacrificed himself to put an end to Hydra once and for all. My role was nothing more than a doctor devoted to research, and a soldier committed to ending the war. I assure you, Senators,” her eyes were full of fire, chin high with confidence. Refusing to let the men hold power over the situation. It was a chilling sight, sending a shiver down Cooper’s spine, “The super soldier serum died with Captain Rogers.”

Closing remarks were given and they were dismissed shortly after. By the time the static rolled, signaling the end of the tape, Cooper and Lucy were at a loss for words. Both in disbelief, and turning to each other with matching horrified expressions. Asking themselves the same question.

Did the government find out it was all a lie? Is that why she was in the pod--to be a science experiment for the rest of her life?

The theory made sense. A terrifying one that had a pit of disgust forming in the duo, but not surprising at the same time considering the government proved time and time again they were cruel. 

Well people in power in general. Take Vault-Tec for example. Who accumulated so much power they blew up America.

Lucy went to remove the tape, throwing it back in the pile before turning back to Cooper to figure out their options now they were dealing with not only a super soldier, but possibly a former government fugitive who underwent God knows what in her captivity. 

But before she even got a word out, Lucy became frighteningly still, eyes bulging from their sockets. The color drained in her face as she looked past Cooper’s shoulder, a choked sound leaving her mouth while it went slack. And before Cooper could ask the reason for her sudden behavior, a new voice entered the picture, causing the already chill atmosphere to become icy. 

“Who the hell are you people?”

[ssinnerplazahotel]

╭──────────.★..─╮

*Chapter Eleven*

╰─..★.──────────╯

WC: 6k

Warning: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff, toxic elvis, manipulation, drug use, it’s the 50s/60s, dubious consent, painful-difficult-devastating-life-changing-extraordinary love

Pairing: elvis x black reader

Disclaimer: full of inaccuracies, inaccurate timeline, inaccurate depictions of Graceland, historically inaccurate themes and items

Masterlist: Prologue, Ch. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

You waited day after day for Joel to come back. You sat in the living room most nights hoping that the door would open and it’d be him.

You didn’t know where he was or if he was okay. You called Bibby to check on him and he told you that he’d called off work for an extended time. Bibby sounded more concerned about how many cars he had on the lot than he did about Joel.

You were worried sick and you had no one to talk to about it. You couldn’t talk to anyone, except maybe…

“Hello?”

“Aunt Dawn?” You felt guilty only calling now—now that you were alone.

She sounded confused when she responded. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” You said as you lit a cigarette on the front burner of the stove. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” She said. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Yes.” You sounded too unconvincing not to cave immediately. “I mean, things could be better.”

“What’s going on?”

“…Did you know that Jerry told Elvis where Joel worked?”

You took a drag from your cigarette as you waited for her response, although her hesitation was enough of one.

“I did,” She said eventually. “Why?”

“No reason,” You said. “I just thought you’d tell me.”

“Should I have told you?” Dawn asked.

“Not necessarily.” You felt like you were communicating in some kind of code. “He showed up there…at Joel’s job.”

“I remember.”

“That was when he invited us to Graceland. Remember?”

“I do.”

You fell silent for a moment. “I saw him one night…without Joel.”

Dawn shifted on the other line. “Did you?”

“I did.” Your voice threatened to crack as you held back tears.

She sighed, disappointed. “Does Joel know?”

“I told him.”

“What’d he say?”

“He left a few days ago. I don’t know where he is.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

“I-I know that you~ you’re close and he trusts you and I was just wondering if you could get in touch with him?”

“How?”

“…I don’t know.” You closed your eyes and leaned back against the counter. “I don’t know what to do.”

“There’s nothing I can do.”

“I know.” You outed your cigarette and dried your eyes as best you could. “I’m so worried about him, I’m trying everything.”

“I’m sure he’s alright, wherever he is.”

“You’re right.”

“Give him some time, okay?”

“Okay.”

You tried Joel’s parents, they said a few nasty things about you calling but ultimately told you that they hadn’t heard from him.

It had been an entire week before you saw him again. In retrospect, a week away wasn’t a huge ask. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

You were getting back from visiting Sinclair when you saw his truck in the driveway. He was there, bent over working under the hood.

You pulled in behind him and killed your engine. He didn’t look up from what he was doing until you approached.

He stood up straight, squinting against the sun. “Hey.”

“Hi,” You said. You didn’t know what to say. “Is there something wrong with her?”

“Just needed some brake fluid.” He wiped his hands on a dirty towel.

“Where were you?” You asked.

“Bibby’s.” He shrugged. “You?”

“Sinclair’s.”

He sighed, looking down at his hands. “We should talk.”

You nodded in agreement. “Okay.”

He threw the towel down before dropping the hood of the truck. He gestured towards the porch and you led the way. You sat on the top step, Joel sitting one step down resting his elbows on his knees.

“That starter’s gettin ready to go,” He said, breaking the silence. “I shoulda changed it a while ago, it’s an old thing, so…”

Silence settled over the two of you again.

“I don’t know what I’m sayin,” He muttered, pushing his hair away from his face. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say anything,” You insisted. “I’m listening.”

“I talked to him,” He said after a beat. “Elvis.”

“You did?” You asked, panicked. “What’d he say?”

“He called me at work,” Joel said. “…said Dawn told ‘im to.”

For a moment you imagined how both those conversations must’ve gone, but you were more concerned with what Joel was saying. You wanted to lean forward and inspect his expression more closely. Was he upset that you talked to Dawn?

“He didn’t say much,” He continued. “I didn’t want to hear anything from him, but…he said Dawn was worried about you, s-so I came to make sure you were alright.”

You nodded your head.

“Are you?”

“Yeah, I’m alright.”

The silence that filled the uncomfortable beats between his words made it hard for you to breathe.

You wanted terribly to comfort him in some way but you couldn’t find the nerve as you watched him struggle to keep his emotions at bay. You’d never seen him so upset and it made you sick knowing that you were the reason.

“He said I should try to make things right with you and that it wasn’t your fault, but I don’t know if I can. I-It’s just…I-I guess I thought I knew who you were, who we were…but now it feels like I don’t know anything.” He fidgeted restlessly, trying to articulate his feelings clearly. “There’s this entire part of your life that you never told me about.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Because you still love him?”

“Because I couldn’t tell anyone.”

Joel met your eyes and you fully saw his expression for what it was. “Tell me now.”

You couldn’t bear the pain in his eyes. “I can’t.”

“Why?” He shifted towards you.

“I don’t want to think about that time in my life. When we ran into each other I had been trying to forget everything from before. Because it hurt too much to remember. I loved him and he hurt me.”

“Then why did you go back?”

“Because I felt…” Your pulse soared and your breath caught in your throat. You struggled to breathe but you still forced yourself to say the words. “I-I felt like he took something from me, a-and I thought I could recapture that lost part of myself somehow. But as soon as I was near him, I… I felt seventeen again. I didn’t go there with these intentions. I thought I could show him that I was in control a-and that I was happy and doing well—despite him.”

Joel remained silent as he watched you stumble through your explanation.

“I know I kept it from you but it’s the only thing I’ve ever kept from you. Everything else is real, I’m still me. What happened, it was my fault. But I swear I’ve never been more sorry about anything in my life.”

Joel’s expression remained hard, his eyebrows drawn—conflicted. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

You casted your eyes downward. You failed to combat your tears, batting them away uselessly.

“I don’t know if I can work past this.” He worried his lip as he spoke. He stared off in thought for a moment before a humorless laugh left his lips. “I keep thinking about that day…when I first saw you at Graceland with Dawn.”

That first day instantly replayed in your mind. You had relived the day so many times—hyper-focused on your interactions with Elvis. Your memory wasn’t too clouded by him to remember Joel, freshly eighteen, rushing out of the house to meet Dawn. He shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of the memory.

“I love you.”

“Tell me you don’t love him.”

“I love you.”

“This entire time you’ve been in love with him.”

“Can’t someone love more than one person?”

Joel’s eyes narrowed in hurt and he stood up from the steps. “Sure. Just not at my expense, that’s all.”

“I don’t know why I said that.” You rushed to follow him as he stormed into the house. “I love you, Joel. I choose you.”

“You choose me.” He chuckled humorlessly. He walked into the kitchen and snatched the refrigerator open to grab a beer.

“I made a mistake. I-I messed up and I’m sorry. I only want to be with you. I love you.”

He sighed and leaned back against the counter as he cracked open the beer in his hand. He tapped the metal cap against the counter with a distant expression.

“I need to think,” He finally said before straightening up and leaving the kitchen without another word.

You watched him go to the living room and drop into the crease of the sofa. He turned on the television and watched it in a slump as he gulped his beer.

You silently retreated to the bedroom with unshed tears in your eyes.

There was a distance between the two of you that grew as the days wore on. Joel spent most of his time at work. He’d leave early before you woke up and get in late after you’d gone to bed.

No matter how many days passed without saying a word to each other, Joel insisted that you keep up appearances with Sinclair and Marcus. He didn’t want them knowing about your issues, he didn’t speak about them to Bibby either.

You went along with it, for him. You didn’t exactly feel comfortable discussing it with Sinclair and Marcus either.

However, it didn’t make it any easier to tolerate his distance when he would suddenly speak to you and treat you nicely around them. It didn’t help that he kept up his image as a doting fiancé in front of your friends only to turn around and not speak a word to you.

No matter how much it hurt, you tried to endure—hoping that the two of you would eventually reach some state of normalcy.

“What?”

You kept your back to the door as you slipped off your shoes with tears in your eyes. Joel sighed before you heard him walk into the bathroom. He killed the shower and returned.

“What is it?” He asked.

You batted your tears away and stood to walk to the closet. “I don’t want to fight.”

“Who’s fighting?” He asked, following you to the closet. “Why’re you crying?”

You dropped your shoes and grabbed something to sleep in. As you made to walk past him he blocked you in with his arm. “You know why I’m crying.”

“I don’t,” He argued. “I thought we had a good night.”

“What, a good night of you pretending that you want anything to do with me?” You narrowed your eyes and pushed past him. You threw your pajamas down on the bed before turning to the dresser to remove your jewelry. “It was a wonderful night if you consider that a good time.”

“I was just trying to~”

“It doesn’t matter,” You said, snatching your earrings out. “I can’t take this anymore.”

“What?” Joel asked, his voice nearer.

“This!” You faced him. “I can’t take this. Constantly feeling like I’m being punished by you. I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

He remained silent and you sighed, defeated. You turned to continue getting undressed. You slipped the rings from your fingers and unclasped the necklaces from around your neck before reaching back to unzip your dress. You fumbled with the zipper, huffing in aggravation when it got jammed. “Can you~”

“Yeah~”

“It’s stuck~”

“I see.” His fingers replaced yours on the zipper and he worked out the kink before gliding it down your spine.

You expected him to step away then but he didn’t. He slipped the fabric of your dress from your shoulders and let it pool around your feet. You turned your head to look at him and found his eyes already on yours. The sudden change of pace took you by surprise and for a moment you were touch-starved enough not to care. However, another thought consumed your mind the moment it entered it.

“What happened?” You asked just as his lips grazed yours.

“What?” He asked, his eyebrows twitching in confusion.

“What changed?” You didn’t feel exposed as you stood in your underwear—searching his eyes for the truth. “I thought it was a part of the act, I thought you were just dedicated to the role of a delicate fiancé because you didn’t want Sinclair and Marcus to suspect anything. But I see now that the entire night you’ve just been buttering me up to sleep with you.”

“Are you serious?”

“I want to know what put you in such a good mood that you’d suddenly look past everything and fuck me. Or should I ask who?”

“….I can’t believe you’d even ask me that.”

You pressured him to answer. “Something changed. What is it?”

“Maybe I just feel like it.”

You crossed your arms. “Can we talk?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“No?” Your eyebrows drew together slightly.

“No,” He repeated. “Because I still feel the same.”

“How do you feel?” You asked in a whisper.

His jaw tightened once again and he fell silent, not answering.

“We can talk to someone.”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone.”

“It could help,” You insisted. “We could talk to someone licensed to deal with this kind of thing.”

“I don’t want to talk,” He said firmly. His hands trailed around your waist and he pulled your body against his.

You shivered and parted your lips in a silent gasp as he kissed your neck, then your collarbone. “…J-Joel~”

He silenced you with a kiss—his lips moved against yours intensely for a moment before he pulled away. You were overwhelmed by his touch. He stepped forward until he forced you onto the bed, littering your neck with heated kisses once again.

Despite the way your body reacted you wanted to stop him—you didn’t want things to happen like this. The longer you went without actually talking about your feelings the more the distance between you seemed to grow.

He was finally speaking to you after days and you wanted to take the opportunity to discuss what really mattered.

“Joel.” You tried again, pressing your palms against his chest.

“Don’t ruin it,” He said breathlessly as he slipped his hand between your legs. “It’s okay.”

Your brain short circuited and you moaned brokenly. It wasn't okay, nothing was okay—but it felt good.

You swore in discomfort when he entered you but it was brief.

A sensation washed over you that caused your lips to part in a silent scream. His movements weren’t gentle or even familiar. You hadn’t seen this side of him. In all the time you had been together he had only made sweet love to you. This was something else entirely.

You felt like there was nothing tactile holding you to the earth as he fucked you so far into oblivion that you didn’t care if you ever felt grounded again.

You couldn’t register much outside of the intensity of the moment, but you felt Joel’s warmth deep inside of you when he came. He collapsed beside you and for a moment there was only the sounds of your labored breathing. He sat up eventually, tucking himself back into the jeans that he never took off. “You okay?”

You nodded, weakly pushing yourself into a sitting position. “I’m fine. I’m just gonna…”

“Yeah…okay.”

You stood from the bed and walked to the bathroom on unsteady legs. You cleaned up and slipped your bathrobe on before going back into the bedroom. When you returned, Joel was still sitting on the edge of the bed.

You sat with your back against the headboard, pulling your knees up.

“I’m sorry if I~”

“It’s okay.”

He nodded, looking off for a moment. “I’ll stay.”

He knew you too well. “Okay.”

He stood and walked into the bathroom. The shower ran for a long time before he returned. He didn’t say anything as he discarded his dirty clothes in the hamper and joined you in bed.

You fell asleep in his arms, and when you woke the next morning, he was gone.

*

“I’m leaving.”

“…Oh?”

Joel stood across the living room watching the rain pick up outside. He kept his arms folded across his chest—guarded. But something about his tone was more vulnerable than you’d heard in weeks.

You met him in the living room, sitting sideways on the couch so that you were facing him. He kept his back to you but continued when you didn’t respond.

“I‘ve been making arrangements.”

“What arrangements?”

“Bibby offered me a job in New York. It’s more behind the scenes and he’d pay me more for relocating.”

You waited for him to continue but he didn’t this time. “New York?” You prompted.

He faced you then—you couldn’t dissect his expression. “The offer just became solid today.”

“And you…don’t want me to come?” You asked, fearing that what you were seeing was reluctance.

“No, I don’t want you to come,” He said, confirming your doubts. “I’m sorry.”

“Joel…I-I know things haven’t been the best between~”

“That’s an understatement~”

“We can fix it.”

“It can’t be fixed. You…you broke my heart. Do you understand that?” You stood and tried to speak but he cut you off and continued. “You made your decision, now I have to make mine.”

“You’re running away? Just like that?”

“What am I supposed to do?”

Panic and anxiety swelled in your chest at the thought of Joel leaving you and moving to New York.

“You’ll have time to figure everything out. We don’t have to rush into selling the house.”

Your eyes burned with tears. “We don’t have to…”

He avoided your pain filled expression. “I have to.”

You could tell by the tears threatening to form in his eyes that the decision wasn’t one that he’d come to easily.

“I’m gonna tell Bibby I’ll go.” He sighed as he walked away. “It’s for the best.”

Elvis called you to apologize upon hearing the news from Dawn—you had been drinking your sorrows like usual when you answered the phone.

“Dawn told me what happened,” He said. He sounded remorseful. “I-I didn’t mean f-for things to turn out like this. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” You tried to sound sober, instead your voice was flat and shallow—and still obviously drunk. “It’s my fault.”

“I shouldn’t have pressured you,” He said. “I tried to tell Joel that it wasn’t your fault~”

“Of course it was my fault,” You snapped. “God, why are we even talking about this?”

“I feel horrible.”

“I’m sure you do…”

You sighed as silence settled over the line. You closed your eyes, waiting excruciatingly for him to say something.

“Maybe you should stay with Dawn in Memphis until you get things sorted out for yourself again.”

“What’s staying with Dawn gonna change?”

“I can put you up in your own place if you come back.”

“No.”

“Birdie~”

“I can’t go back to Memphis.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re drunk at eleven in the morning, honey.”

You glanced halfheartedly at the time. The curtains were still drawn and the house was cold and silent. It could have been any hour.

“I hate when you do this.”

“What?”

“You go around creating all these problems and swoop in to fix them like you’re the good guy.”

“…Can I do anything?”

You wished there was something that could be done about the miserable feeling in your gut. Your chest hurt from the amount of cigarettes you’d gone through and you were nauseous from the vodka-doused wine concoction you had going.

“I should be alone,” You said. “I deserve to be alone.”

“You made one mistake.”

“It was a lot of little mistakes that led up to one big one.”

“That still doesn’t mean you deserve to be punished,” Elvis argued.

“My life is ruined.”

“How can you say that?”

You struggled to internalize your emotions, picturing them retreating to a small corner in the back of your mind instead of erupting outwardly. You wanted them to go back inside until they were nothing, until they couldn’t hurt you anymore.

“What can I do?”

“I figured it out on my own before, I’ll do it again.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I’ll take care of you.”

“I’m not coming back to Memphis.”

“Why not?”

You couldn’t believe you had to explain.

“Because I don’t want to get caught up in your bullshit again, Elvis,” You said. “I don’t want to fall into the same routine. The fighting, the constant back and forth—it’s fruitless and repetitive. I want to actually live my life. That’s why.”

“You can live your life,” He said. “I’m not gonna lock you up once you get here.”

“Sure.”

“…It could be different this time.”

“‘Could be?’”

He fell silent for a moment. “It can be different.”

You waited for him to continue but he didn’t. “I don’t want to play those games anymore.”

“No games, then. No fighting—I mean it.” His voice was low and sincere. “Come back to Graceland.”

You shook your head. You wanted to, of course you did. You were in love with Joel but you loved Elvis all the same. It hurt—it made you feel fickle.

“I can’t.”

“What’s stopping you?”

You couldn’t tell if you were awake or dreaming when Elvis showed up at the house in the following days. He had made his appearance discrete, you didn’t know it was him when the black impala pulled into the drive. It was late and he came alone—only him and his driver. He didn’t say anything when you let him inside. You shut the door and leaned back against it as he stood before you. He seemed out of place and too grand for the room.

You must’ve flinched when he moved towards you, or retracted in some way, because he stopped. It was silent and you refused to meet his eyes. The silence was tense, like the air after a bad fight.

“What do you want me to do?” He asked when the quiet became unbearable.

“You shouldn’t be here. It’s not right.”

“I came for you.”

“You shouldn’t’ve.”

He didn’t respond, instead he turned and walked further into the house. He noticed the boxes full of your things crowding the living room.

“You’re packing?”

“He’s selling the house.”

“Where are you gonna go?” He faced you when you didn’t answer. “I want to help.”

You were offended. “I don’t need your help.”

“I don’t care if you need it or want it, birdie, that’s the thing,” He said, frustrated. “I don’t want to spend another year wondering what the hell happened to you. So you can go anywhere in the world, alright? Just let me make sure you get there.”

“You say that like it’s so easy.”

“I don’t care if it’s easy, I care if you get there in one piece.”

He had neared you again, taking slow steps until he stood directly in front of you.

“Do you want me to take you to Dawn?”

“No.”

“Wilmington?”

“No.”

“Where? Somewhere around here? D’you want the house? I’ll get it for you.”

“No, Elvis.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know. None of this feels real.”

You didn’t move away when he reached out and took your face in his hands. He made you meet his eyes, searching yours for a moment before his lips were inching towards yours.

You spoke before your lips met. “Not here. Please.”

He sighed and pressed his forehead against yours. His thumbs stroked the apples of your cheeks. “Tell me what to do.”

You closed your eyes, your hands moving to clutch the front of his shirt. You knew better than to give in to him so easily, but you were vulnerable. You wanted him to make you disappear. “I want it to be like it never happened…like none of it ever happened.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not okay.”

You were crying now but Elvis wouldn’t let you pull away. He dried your tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“Why can’t it be okay?”

“We can’t~”

“We can do whatever we want.”

You pulled away enough to really meet his eyes. He was being serious.

“Why did you come here, E?” You asked, suddenly grounded enough to question his motives. He was always that way—calculated and two steps ahead.

“I was worried about you.”

“And?”

“And I was hoping I could convince you to come back to Memphis with me…as my girl.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m choosing you, birdie. If you’ll let me.”

You weren’t sure how to react. There was a part of you that was elated enough to cry, but it was overshadowed by the crushing feeling you had that he’d let you down. He’d get you back to Graceland and you’d be back in a predicament that you had escaped—for hardly enough time to matter. You still loved him just as much as you did a year ago—if not more after rekindling.

You had pulled his hooks out but you hadn’t gotten out of arm's reach. One wrong move and he’d sink them right back in. The scariest part of it all was that you almost longed for him to do so. You wanted the satisfaction of watching it all happen before your eyes, slowly and painfully. You wanted him to tear you apart, bit by bit, and leave you broken—you wanted to do it for the thrill of watching something crumble so perfectly.

“You don’t want me.” You meant it as a warning—no one deserved to put up with you.

“You’re all I want, little bit.” He tapped your chin. “I’ll prove it to you if you come with me.”

He laughed in a nervous way when he said it—his expression genuinely hopeful.

“You don’t have to,” He said in the wake of your silence. “Like I said, anything you want. Anywhere you want to go.”

You didn’t say anything. For a while you stood there silently deciding what your next move should be. You didn’t have anything to lose, your pride and dignity had been exerted and you were feeling hopeless.

“…Can we leave now?”

“We can leave right now.”

You packed your clothes in your luggage and Elvis helped the driver put them in the trunk. You left your key and engagement ring on the counter for Joel, you wanted to leave a note but there was nothing to say.

“We’ll send somebody for it,” Elvis said in response when you asked about the rest of your things. “It’ll be out in time.”

“Okay,” You said as he led you out of the front door. You paused, looking around the house. It wasn’t lived in anymore, but there were traces of your life with Joel all throughout the place. From the barely there wine stain on the middle cushion of the couch to the knick in the wooden frame of the door from when you moved it in. You were saying goodbye to a life that had barely gotten started. Elvis stopped when he noticed your hesitation.

“Hey,” He said, making you face him. “I got you, okay?”

“Okay,” You repeated.

He kissed your forehead and led you out of the house once and for all. You climbed into the back seat of his impala, trying not to think about anything too much. If you did, you’d have a breakdown.

“It’s only an hour flight.”

“Flight?”

“Yeah, it’s quicker.”

You must’ve looked uneasy—he asked you if flying still made you nervous.

“I don’t do it enough to get past the nerves, I guess,” You said. “It’s fine, I’ll manage.”

“I’ll just give you something,” He said, reaching into the pocket of his slacks and retrieving an amber, 10 dram pill bottle. “It should help.”

“I’ll never see this house again,” You said, looking out the window longingly. “Nothing’s ever going to be the same. It’s over.”

“Take this.” He turned your head and dropped the pill into your mouth. “Hold it under your tongue.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ll take care of you.”

He put his arm over your shoulders and kissed your temple. You leaned into his touch and closed your eyes, swallowing your bitter saliva as the pill dissolved under your tongue.

“Am I a horrible person?” You asked sometime into the drive.

“No,” Elvis responded. “You can’t help who you love, can you?”

“No.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Then don’t beat yourself up about the situation. It had to happen.”

“But Joel~”

“He’s a kid, birdie. He’ll get over it.”

It didn’t matter what Elvis said, or that he had seemingly convinced Jerry of the same thing. You knew Joel, and you knew that he’d take time to work through his feelings. You knew that a part of him would never fully heal.

You wanted to feel bad, you did feel bad deep down past the artificial calm spreading over you. You got to the airport and the two of you were escorted directly onto a private plane. Things happened fast, which you were thankful for.

“You okay?” Elvis checked as you took your seats, keeping your hand in his all the while.

“I’m okay,” You said. “Are you?”

“I’m perfect now that I’m with you,” He said, bringing you with him when he sat down instead of having you take your own seat.

You looked over your shoulder to be sure the cabin was empty and the plane suddenly jolted into motion. Elvis laughed at your expression and put a protective arm around you.

“Aw, birdie,” He said. “It’ll level out eventually.”

“Not helping.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Distract me.”

The hand of his free arm traveled up your thigh and he kissed your cheek. You knew what the sudden influx of ‘harmless’ kisses meant. Once upon a time, you favored this particular tell of his the most.

“I think I know what kind of distraction you need,” He said, kissing the shell of your ear.

“On the plane?” You squirmed away from his touch, laughing prudishly at the thought.

“Haven’t you heard of the mile high club?” He asked, unbuckling the front of your coat and pushing it off your shoulders. He maneuvered you so that you straddled him, letting the coat fall to the ground.

You protested but you leaned into his touch when he kissed your exposed collar bone. You would’ve stopped him had the medication in your system not loosened your ambiguity—leaving you feeling light and euphoric. His touch erupted into a thousand tingles against your skin and you were practically vibrating with desire.

“People do it,” He said, kissing your neck. “Something about the altitude.”

You looked over your shoulder again, trying to stop him. “Elvis…someone might see.”

He stopped, looking up at you with a lustful expression. “There’s no one but us until we land, baby.”

You laughed but the sound was immediately cut short by a moan when he slipped his hand under the skirt of your dress.

“…This is wrong,” You weren’t focused on the words as you said them, all you could focus on was the way his fingers grazed you through the thin material of your underwear. “I want to do the right thing.”

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s right.”

He sat back in his seat, his hands rubbing your thighs before traveling up your sides and back. You released a low groan as he fingers pressed into your taught muscles. He massaged the tension out of your shoulders and kissed you slowly. Your eyes fell shut and you leaned into him.

“It’s okay,” He reassured you, one arm securely around your back while the other worked out the knot in your neck. You hadn’t realized how tense you were.

You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp the way he always liked. You weren’t satisfied with the low groan he released and shifted to apply more pressure to his growing erection. The sound he released when you moved your hips was satisfactory. He took your face in his hands and looked at you.

“I love you,” He whispered, his voice almost lost in the mechanical hum of the plane’s engines. “I won’t ever let you go again. I promise.”

“You love me?”

“Yes. Don’t ask me why.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t tell you all the reasons.”

You kissed him again. “Is this real?”

He wrapped both arms around your torso and hugged your body against his. “It’s real.”

“Feels like I’m dreaming.”

“You aren’t. You’re here, with me. Be here with me.”

You opened your eyes. He looked at you with an intensity behind his expression that made you shiver—the world fell away like it always used to. It was familiar and all thoughts that weren’t concerning him vanished. You felt like you were falling in love for the first time all over again.

You didn’t notice that he’d unbuckled his trousers and freed himself until you felt him prodding at your entrance. You tensed initially but relaxed as he pushed your panties aside and entered you. You whimpered at the stretch—groaning when he was fully seated inside.

You stayed that way for a while, connected and unmoving until his hands eventually continued roaming your body. His breath mingled with yours as he thrusted to meet your movements, making your toes curl in your shoes. You were instantly on the verge of peaking—in every regard.

“Can I, please?” You trembled against him, your abdomen constricting as you anticipated your high.

“Why would I say no?” The pleasure was too intense, you didn’t know whether to chase it or run away. Elvis groaned as you finished, following with a suppressed grunt—your name growling deep in his chest.

He swore under his breath, grabbing your chin with his clean hand and kissing your lips. “You’re adorable.”

He patted your thigh and you stood, unsteadily.

“Stay,” He instructed before going into the bathroom. He returned with a damp towel, wiping his hands clean before helping you. “Take ‘em off.”

You laughed as he slipped your panties down your legs, holding his shoulders as you stepped out of them.

“Uh, uh,” He said when you reached for them, pulling them away. “They’re mine.”

“What are you gonna do with them?”

“Commemorate the moment.”

You finished cleaning up before retaking your seat. The last of the flight blew by—the two of you clinging to each other the entire time. Before you knew it you were arriving in Memphis. You saw all the cameras but it still took you a moment to realize what was happening.

“Elvis,” You said as you took in the scene outside the window of the plane. It was dark but the lights illuminating the runway made everything clear. “What’s happening?”

“We’re going home,” He said smugly. He stood with you but you sat back down. “Come on, baby.”

You shook your head. “You go first.”

He laughed, taking your hand and helping you out of the seat. “Let’s go together.”

“E.P.?” Sonny showed up—his eyes found yours briefly, but he looked away immediately. “Car’s ready.”

“I’m not gonna stop this time, straight there,” Elvis said to him before glancing you over, tapping your chin fondly. “Let’s go, little bit.”

Your stomach turned with anxiety. “W-What if they don’t like me?”

He shrugged. “I guess we’ll all just lay down and die.”

You couldn’t help but smile as he kissed your cheek and led you off of the plane. At first all you could hear were voices, but soon all sounds were replaced by your heart hammering in your ears. You would’ve froze, if it weren’t for Elvis’ arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders. You had feared the look on people’s faces when they saw the two of you together—now, however, you couldn’t make out anything aside from the wild flashes.

There were numerous barricades up to keep the crowd at bay, but there was still security to stop the few desperate freelancers that slipped through. Everything happened so fast—one minute you were there being photographed by dozens of people and the next you were in the back of the car. Elvis signaled the driver and the car lurched into motion.

“You okay?” He asked, helping you out of your coat and hat.

“So intense,” You said, heaving a sigh when you were free.

He reached over to place your jacket on the seat behind you. “You’re not too shook up, are you?”

You smiled and leaned into him. “A little.”

“Well, it’s over now,” He said, putting his arm around you. “You’re safe and sound.”

“Yeah, but…” You hesitated but quickly overcame your unsureness. “I still need something to calm my nerves.”

“Is that so?” The smirk on his face deepened.

“Mhm.” You don’t know if it was the rush of the paparazzi or if you were still riding some high from your activities on the plane. Regardless of the reason, you wanted him again—right then and there.

He laughed when you placed your hand on his inner thigh. He reached into his pocket and retrieved the small pill bottle. “Best I can do for now.”

You pouted as he opened the bottle and shook a pill out. He bit it in half, prompting you to open your mouth before placing one half on your tongue. You were already buzzing from the half before the flight. “Is that the best you can do?”

He glanced at the driver through the partition as he grabbed a bottled water from the cup holders. “I don’t want to disturb our friend.”

You followed his gaze, taking a swig from the bottle after him. “I think he’d have a good time.”

He didn’t pull away when you kissed him—blindly taking the water and capping it off before dropping it on the ground. His hand hooked onto the bend of your knee and pulled you closer. You were practically straddling him as the two of you attempted to consume one another.

“E.P.?”

He barely pulled away. “What?”

“10-12.”

“Okay?”

“Colonel doesn’t want any photos.”

Elvis sighed glancing up in aggravation. “Tell the Colonel that there’s nothing he can do about that.”

“But~”

“Straight through, boss.”

The driver nodded and put the partition back up. Elvis groaned, pulling away with a final kiss on your cheek.

“Pull yourself together, dirty bird,” He said, helping you back into your coat. “We don’t want to let these people see you on your knees for me just yet.”

“What does the Colonel think of all this, E?”

You hadn’t thought to ask. With everything happening so quickly you barely had a chance to process what was going on, let alone form any questions.

“Don’t worry about the Colonel.”

You didn’t like that response. You knew people would be opposed to the idea, but you weren’t prepared to face the Colonel. You didn’t want to face him.

“He doesn’t know,” You said. “Does he?”

“He will soon enough,” Elvis said. “Along with everybody else. You said no secrets.”

“I didn’t expect this…he’ll never allow this.”

“I don’t need anyone’s permission to be with you.” He blindly straightened his hair and slipped a pair of shades on despite the late hour. “I didn’t bring you all this way to hope for his approval.”

You stopped him when he leaned in for a kiss and he opted for kissing your neck instead.

When you finally arrived at Graceland the streets outside of the gate were flooded. There had to be at least a hundred people gathered—some were holding signs, some were holding cameras, and some were holding back tears. They stood shouting at the car as it inched through the ruckus. You tried to get a better look at what the signs were saying but Elvis stopped you.

“Don’t pay them any mind, doll,” He said, putting his arm over your shoulder. He pulled you into his side and kissed your temple. Something hit the window, startling you and making Elvis lean forward to snap at the driver. “Can’t they get somebody to clear the goddamn gate?”

“I think they’re trying.”

“Tell ‘em try harder.”

While Elvis went back and forth with him, you peaked outside again. You immediately wished you hadn’t when you caught a glimpse of what was written on the signs.

“O-Oh my god,” You stammered under your breath.

“Birdie.” He took your face in his hands, forcing you to look away. “I told you not to look.”

“Oh my god~”

“Don’t worry about them, honey, they’re just stuck in their ways~”

“‘Stuck in their ways?’”

He shushed you, trying to meet your eyes. “Don’t let them see you cryin. They’re gonna have to come around, like everyone else.”

You shook your head, willing your tears away. “I knew this would happen. They hate me.”

“They can’t hate you,” He said. “They don’t even know you. It’s just how it’s gonna be at first.”

Another object slammed against the window—you clung to him. “I’m scared.”

“You don’t have to worry, darlin, we’re gonna pull right up to the door…” His voice started fading into the background and the sound of the chaos outside took over. “You hear me?”

Your body nodded reflexively but you couldn’t focus on anything but the crying, screaming faces of the people outside.

“Keep your head down and I’ll lead right inside and upstairs. How’s that sound?”

Another disconnected nod.

“Talk to me, baby.”

“…That sounds fine.”

He reassured you again that everything was okay as the car eventually got through the crowd and was able to stop.

When you got out of the vehicle you could hear the cameras flickering in a frenzy but you kept your head down as he led you up the steps. You expected the chaos to die down once inside, however you were met by an angry Colonel.

“Elvis Presley~”

“I’ll deal with you in the morning,” Elvis said, attempting to lead you upstairs.

“You get her out of this house, immediately!”

“What?”

“You heard me!”

“This is my goddamn house!”

You closed your eyes as they shouted back and forth.

“This, what you’re doing, it’s…it’s suicide,” Parker said, he was practically fuming. If you had looked up you would’ve been met by his harsh glare. “If you insist on keeping the girl, I will be forced to leave you.”

“Then I’ll be forced to let you go.”

“After everything I’ve done for you?”

“Everything you’ve done…go upstairs, birdie.” He looked at Jerry. “Take her.”

You let Jerry lead you upstairs, his hand barely gracing the small of your back as he did so. When you got to Elvis’ room he let you in before following behind. You walked over to the bed and sat down. You couldn’t get the images out of your head.

Jerry walked over to the minibar in the corner and poured you a drink. Something dark and straight.

“I shouldn’t.”

“It’ll take the edge off at least.”

You took the glass. You stood as you took a sip, setting it on the bedside table so you could remove your coat.

“He should be up any minute.”

“Thank you.”

He smiled briefly and was gone. You took some time to walk around the room. You entered the closet to find numerous items of women’s clothing. The tags still hung from them as if they were either brand new or never worn. It made you think that he had prepared in advance for your arrival. He must’ve not had a doubt in his mind that you’d come back with him.

The bedroom door opened and you were met with Elvis’ fired up expression when you left the closet.

“Elvis,” You started. “Calm down~”

“Do not try to reel me in right now, birdie~”

“It’s okay.”

“How can you fucking say that?”

You walked over to him. “I’m sorry. I-I just~ I don’t want you to be upset.”

He sighed as you hugged him, noticing the empty glass on the table. “Jerry fixed you a drink?”

You looked up at him. “What if he’s right? It’s not worth it.”

He shushed you, sitting you down on the bed. You waited for his response but he fell silent. He removed your shoes and guided you to lay down. You stopped him before he moved away.

“Don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He laid down and took you in his arms.

“What’s going to happen, E?”

“I have no idea.”

[wishcamper]

Cassian Appreciation Week Day 4: Lover

Continuing @cassianappreciationweek with an entry that explores Cassian's openness to love in its many packages. You can read it here or on ao3.

Thicker Than Water

In which Cassian loves his friends.. a lot.

CW: consensual sexual content, a moment of dubcon if you squint

"The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."

“I thought being married would get us past the overfamiliar gifts, but I guess that was wishful thinking,” Nesta sighed, and Cassian cursed himself for the thousandth time for all the years he spent letting his guilt rule him.

The House’s warmth was a relief when it washed over his wings, and as he set Nesta down in the dining room it felt more like home than ever. She shrugged off her coat and hung it on the rack, and despite the time his stomach still swooped seeing the long column of her neck, her cheeks flushed from the wine and hours spent in the parlor of the river house.

Nesta, his wife, their third Solstice as mates since that night everything changed. Lucky didn’t even come close to how he felt having her in his life - it was a rare gift, one that he doubted even other mates experienced.

Which was why the present from Mor didn’t make him feel uncomfortable so much as sad. He worried about the ways his friend was struggling to move on, to find her place now their family had changed irrevocably.

Cassian sank into an armchair and chucked the silky undershorts into the hearth, watching the fabric curl and twist as the flames engulfed it. “I’m sorry, I’ll talk to her about it. Maybe she’ll actually hear me this time.”

He’d told Nesta the story of their ill-fated one night stand ages ago, the fallout not just with Mor’s engagement but within their found family as well. He still looked back on the whole thing with shame, but Nesta was helping him shift that, to understand and make peace with the ways he’d been harmed, to discern what was and wasn’t his duty to bear.

“It’s not your fault,” she said as if reading his thoughts, coming behind his chair to drape herself over his shoulders. Her hair smelled of vanilla and cinnamon when she buried her face in his neck, voice thick with drink and drowsiness. “I can’t say it’s surprising, the way all of you are with each other. If I didn’t know, I’d assume you’d have been with at least one of them.”

“What does that mean?”

Cassian frowned as Nesta tapped a careful finger against her lips and moved to pour herself a nightcap, her words sounding measured when she finally spoke. “Your family is very.. charged. You talk about sex all the time, none of you were attached before my sisters and I came along. There’s just something not quite familial about it.”

“Hey now,” he began, but Nesta cut him off with a kiss, returning to perch herself in his lap. He drew his wings and arms around her habitually despite his offense, stealing a sip from her glass.

“Sorry love, I’ve no judgment for you. I’m certainly not innocent." She loosed the tie from his hair, her fingers soothing where they worked through the tangles he'd earned rolling on the floor with his nephew. "Besides, you’ve only slept with one of your family members, it could be worse.”

“Uh.. huh.”

“Cassian.”

He’d been distracted by the fullness of her hips in his hands, thinking of how he could persuade her to push sleep off for another hour or two. But now her words registered, igniting a nervousness low in his stomach. He flashed what he hoped was a lazy smile. “Yes, sweetheart?”

But he knew it didn’t work when her blue-gray eyes narrowed, scrutinizing, fixed him with a stare that would make lesser males cower. 

“You’re being shifty. What are you hiding?”

Damn the bond, damn her mind-reading power that would’ve seen through him without the direct connection to his fucking soul. His insides went all squirmy, knots of memory beginning to unravel.

“Okay, remember how we agreed to not hold our pasts against each other?”

“Cassian Archeron, tell me the truth right now.”

“Okay fine fine, just don’t - ow - don’t kill me until you’ve heard the whole thing.”

Nesta lowered the pillow from where she’d raised it to whack him a second time, her wintery eyes flashing in the firelight.

“Spill.”

—

They’d been stationed in the Illyrian mountains for four fucking months by now, whipping the newest recruits into shape, or trying to, anyhow. Rhys wanted everyone in top fighting shape after rumors of an armada preparing to sail from the continent, and though it was a worthy cause, being away from Velaris was starting to wear Cassian thin.

But if he was miserable, then Azriel was wretchedly depressed. He was as surly as Cassian had ever seen him, and even though it wasn’t abnormal the duration of this last bout was worrisome. For weeks he’d been trying to find a way past that thick wall of stoicism, but for all his jokes and ribbing and attempts at quiet company, Az only sunk further into a deep freeze. There was a kind of deadness in his eyes that Cassian had come to associate with loneliness, or else feeling unworthy of reaching out.

So he decided to offer up one of his own frustrations one frigid morning as they sparred in the deserted ring, hoping to draw the shadowsinger out by catching him when his body was most alive.

“I’m going out of my mind surrounded by males up here,” Cassian said after dodging a jab of Azriel’s elbow aimed straight for his chin. "I have no idea how those monks in Cesere do it."

Az scoffed. “No one warming your bed?”

“Fuck no. You?”

“Not really looking.”

The village close by was more liberal than most due to its status as a trading crossroads, and Cassian had found a bevy of eager and willing females in the earlier days of their assignment. But one had to be careful to avoid spreading themselves too far - Illyrians were famous for being incurable gossips as much as they were for their wings.

Still, it surprised him to hear Azriel wasn’t even trying. They both had healthy appetites, the spymaster’s at times more ravenous than even his own.

“Yeah, sure.” Cassian smirked as they circled each other, making a show of rolling his eyes enough that Az might take the bait. He did, spinning to sweep Cassian’s feet from beneath him, but it went less well than expected when Az pivoted at the last moment and boxed him about the ear with a closed fist, making it ring.

“I mean it.”

Azriel landed a kick to Cassian’s shoulder to emphasize the point. He felt the shadows start to twine up his arm and blasted them outward with the siphon on his gauntlet, his laughter coming out in great white puffs amidst the chill.

He loved that Az never held back when they sparred. Sometimes Cassian wondered if he was the only one Azriel felt comfortable going full tilt with, the only one beside Rhys who could take him and not break. Which was why his curiosity spiked hearing of the shadowsinger’s celibacy, wondering if that restraint appeared elsewhere.

“Why not?”

He saw the frozen ground inside Azriel begin to thaw, the corner of his mouth twitching, but he quickly schooled his expression into that blank mask once more. “Don’t do this.”

“No really, why? You’re a good-looking male.” Ducking, Cassian managed to grab Az around the neck, ruffling his hair with a clenched fist like the childhood bully that still lived within him, though there was something else inside it that he ignored . “Do you not know what you’re doing, Azzie?”

Azriel struggled against him, growling his displeasure at the accusation. “Of course I do.”

At last he wriggled free, shadows swarming waspish and angry about his wings, but that fire had returned to his eyes, replacing the cold hollowness. Cassian didn’t quite know what was happening, but a thrill passed through him that had nothing to do with their sparring. There was so much that powerful body was capable of, and he couldn’t help egging Az on as he kicked out at one of his legs, stoking the flames.

“Prove it.”

“Fuck you.”

The shadowsinger’s hair fell elegantly across his face despite the sweat, and Cassian was distracted watching the sway of it, his already loose tongue unraveling more by the second.

“Like you have the balls to. You can’t handle me.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew Azriel wouldn’t be able to let a challenge go, that his competitive streak would win over his better judgment every time. And Cassian could admit to himself that a part of him wanted that, wanted to keep making Az flush with rage like that, and so the taunts kept flowing.

“I’d make you cry, pretty boy. I’d have you begging for mercy before I even touched you.”

The next time Azriel came at him there was no restraint, no checking his blows, and they grappled violently, nails scraping against leather, panting breaths heating the space between them. Color bloomed high in the shadowsinger's cheeks, too deep for the cold, the exhertion.

They’d shared many charged glances in the ring over the years, the dances of combat and desire so often a hair’s breadth away from each other. Cassian usually dismissed it as an unavoidable side effect of being close for so long, knowing Azriel’s quirks more than his own. But now something blazed behind each blow and snarl, white-hot and searing, spurring him on.

“And then I’d make you forget your own fucking name.” He rushed forward and tackled Az around the middle, crushing him into the ground. “The only one you’d remember would be mine, and I’d make you scream it over and over and -”

Shadows whipped around them, lashing at his face and arms. Cassian heard a snarl and then the world flipped and he was the one pinned to the ground, face smashed into the dirt with one of Azriel’s hands splayed across his cheek, scars rasping at his stubble.

Another thrill pulsed through him, more urgent than before as he thrashed to free himself, albeit half-heartedly. The shadowsinger paused, looking down between them.

“Cauldron, Cass, are you getting hard?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

But he already knew the answer, could feel the long, hard press of Azriel through his leathers, the erratic beat of the shadowsinger’s heart in time with his own. Cassian grinned as he looked up into Azriel’s expression twisted in fury and something more malleable, consumed by the turbulence in his eyes he knew matched his own.

“Fuck it.”

Azriel yanked him upward and their mouths crashed together, a tangle of teeth and tongues, hands gripping hair and shoulders, their bodies carving symbols in the dirt. It was all so absurd, so surreal that Cassian laughed against Azriel’s lips, causing the latter to bite down on his own.

“Bedroom,” Cassian panted when Az pulled back, and shadows whisked them away in an instant, his back landing on the soft down of a feather bed. Azriel was still straddling him, now ripping at the jacket of his leathers.

“Get this shit off.”

They both fumbled with buckles and clasps that usually took no thought, an indicator of the building fervor, the delirium that captured both of them in its wild, wanton fist. But when their lips met once more there was a tenderness to it that surprised Cassian, the grip of Azriel’s hand on his jaw lighter than it ought to be. 

An understanding passed between them, two people who had hurt others, had been hurt themselves, and didn’t make themselves vulnerable for just fucking anybody.

Cassian’s hand moved slowly to the laces of his pants, giving Az time to decide as he watched with heavy-lidded eyes, frozen ground replaced by smoldering embers.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” Az’s tongue darted out to trace his lower lip. “Always.”

“Then put your hands on the headboard.”

—

“Things sort of devolved from there,” Cassian finished with a shrug. They’d stayed up all night, only to return to the training ring in the morning clear-headed and casual, as if nothing had happened. “We’ve shared females since then, but never just the two of us. I think we needed to get it out of our systems.”

Nesta had moved from his lap and draped herself across the chaise lounge while he talked, golden brown hair spilling across her shoulders as she removed the pins. She was looking at him now with a kind of hunger in her wintery eyes, one that said she was picturing herself as the female they shared. “I can’t say I’m surprised. You two are.. Close.”

“Alright you minx, reel it back in. I don’t know if I’m ready to share you yet.”

“If that’s all I think I can live with it. At least it wasn’t Rhysand,” she said airily as she stood, and he followed her down the hall like a bird chasing the breeze, borne forth by the power she held over him. His thoughts were all a jumble - he couldn’t lie, but he had to, but then she’d be pissed, but she might be more pissed by the truth.

By the time they reached their room, all he managed was a noise like a seagull being strangled, followed by a weak, “Well..”

Cassian bought himself time shucking off his boots and tucking them in the wardrobe, trying to temper the onslaught of memories, the edges fuzzy from liquor and time. When he summoned the courage to emerge Nesta was naked, which was great, but also glaring at him over one shoulder, blue-gray flashing like a stormy sea, which was decidedly less great. 

“Cassian. Are you kidding?”

He sighed, accepting his fate as he rid himself of his shirt and trousers. “Look, it was a long time ago, I was young and drunk and curious. Shit happens.”

Nesta gave a disdainful hm! and stepped down into their giant bathtub, a cruel swish of her hips for emphasis.

“So you just accidentally came on to both your best friends on separate occasions because shit happens.”

“Yes.” He splashed into the fragrant water with much less grace and wrapped her in his arms, drawing a shriek. “Only I didn’t start it this time.”

—

He was finally sitting down, mercifully, miraculously, at rest for one godsdamn moment.

The last month had been one of the most brutal of Cassian’s life, the constant drilling, the endless training as they prepared for war. Now that he’d collapsed like a sack of bones in the armchair before the fire, he didn’t know how he’d remained on his feet so long in the first place.

As if summoned by his weariness, Rhys strolled into the house a few moments later, Windhaven’s harsh winter air sneaking in behind him. Cassian ruffled his wings and shot a dark look over his shoulder, not even bothering with a greeting.

“Close the fucking door.”

“In a bad mood, darling?” Rhys drawled, the aristocratic glide of his voice grating on Cassian’s nerves as the lordling divested himself of his traveling cloak. “I’ve just the thing to soothe your troubled heart.”

He produced a bottle of deep purple mulberry moonshine, a delicacy of Spring. It was impossible to get with the embargo on the southern court, though Cassian suspected Rhys’ stupid blond friend probably had a hand in supplying it.

He ignored the spike of jealousy, ascribing it to the headache now pounding somewhere behind his eye, and accepted the proffered glass without another word.

They drained the bottle for the better part of the evening, talking shit and one-upping each other, the ease of conversation helping Cassian relax until he’d sunk low in his chair, legs splayed long across the floor. Azriel was gone on a mission for the High Lord, and so they enjoyed the rare time just the two of them, perhaps the last time for a while. They’d all be shipped off to their individual assignments soon, and though it wasn’t confirmed Cassian knew they’d be separated, far-flung across Prythian in a way they hadn’t been since the Blood Rite.

Which was why he’d been pissed when Rhys brought a female home last night, shattering the images he’d had of sharing a meal together, drinking before the fire just like this.

“Did you enjoy the show last night?” Rhys asked casually, and Cassian scowled at him as his cheeks heated in a way he hoped was camouflaged by the flush of alcohol.

He’d heard them fucking in the night, woken to the creak of the bedframe, hushed moans and whispers drifting over him like a warm breeze. Rhys was going down on her from the sound of it, and very successfully if the female’s growing abandon was anything to go by. Even in his mortification Cassian had let one of his hands edge lower, biting the pillow to muffle his own labored breaths.

The memory made his arousal flare even now, loosened as he was by booze and easy company. When he looked up Rhys was smirking at him, a daring twinkle in his inconstant violet eyes.

“If you’re reading my mind I’m going to throw your bed out the window.”

Rhys’ smirk deepened. “That’s fine. I’ll just climb in with you.”

“Like I’d let you within ten wingspans of my bed.”

“You seemed fairly open to it when you were touching yourself under the covers.”

Cassian tried to ignore the spike of wanting at the words, instead downing the rest of his glass before he set it on the table with feigned nonchalance. Rhys stood and circled around the back of his chair, and Cassian assumed he was going to retrieve another bottle until he felt strong hands begin to knead the muscle at his shoulder, where his wings connected to his back. That touch-starved part of him that never got enough affection sparked alive, that wanted to both shy away from the contact and lean into its promise desperately.

“I don’t mind, for the record. We both knew. And we both liked it,” Rhys assured him. A sharp pain tore through Cassian’s neck before he could answer, Rhys following the tendon with a gentle thumb. “Gods but you’re tense. You’ve worried yourself into knots, darling.”

They were silent for a while, and Cassian let himself surrender to the pressure of Rhys’ hands, mind drifting back toward the night before as the tension seeped out of him. He had been curious about how Rhys had made the female moan like that, though at the time he’d thought for purely academic purposes. Now he felt a stirring below, curious in an entirely different way.

“Well if you ever change your tune, you’re welcome to pull back the covers and join in,” Rhys said breezily after a long slug of his own drink. “Have you ever had a male before, Cassian?” 

“No. Have you?”

Rhys hummed in confirmation behind him. “It’s not so different, you know.”

He felt Rhys’ hands roaming lower, slipping under his shirt to stroke at his chest, long fingers running through the thatch of curls at the center. Cassian’s whole body went hot, and he warred against the impulse to give in, still not sure if Rhys was sincere or just fucking with him.

“You fuck anything that moves, so I’m not sure how much weight that holds.”

It wasn’t like he’d never thought about it - Rhys was an undeniably handsome male, and even though he didn’t typically lean that way there was something comforting about the familiarity, the trust. The hands continued their path downward, undoing the buttons of his shirt.

“I have a very talented tongue, I’ve been told. Seems wrong not to share my gifts.”

“What a public service, lordling." Cassian was surprised by the gravel in his own voice, the building desire thick and heavy on his tongue. "Your subjects are truly grateful.”

“What can I say? I live to serve.”

Cassian hissed as fingers grazed his waistband. The rush of alcohol in his veins was making him feel bold, and Rhys certainly appeared on board, but the old twinge lingered, the unspoken rule.

“Are you sure about this? I mean I’m flattered, obviously, but after everything that happened with Mor I assumed we were all off-limits.”

Rhys’ hands stilled, pulling away from him. “Do you still feel guilty about that?”

“Of course I do,” Cassian murmured even as felt the loss of contact acutely, the part of him that wanted to take what was being offered, to let down his wall of self-sufficiency and be the cared for instead of the carer.

Soft lips pressed against his head, an apology somewhere inside it though neither spoke it aloud. Rhys rounded the chair to stand before the fire, a contemplative air about him.

“You work so hard, Cass, you show up for all of us without a moment’s hesitation. I know you’d die for me, but do you know I’d live in Hel for you?” When Rhys looked back Cassian saw the desire in his own eyes reflected along with something deeper, a wish to be connected, to give. “It’s not wrong to let someone else take over for a while.”

Then Rhys stepped close again and lowered to his knees on the threadbare rug, and Cassian forgot how to string a sentence together, how to breathe.

“Just relax. Let me take care of this for you.”

Deft fingers unlaced his trousers, relieving the ache only the slightest bit, which was somehow worse because Cassian was aware of just how turned on he was, how much he wanted Rhys to keep going. He ran a hand through Rhys’ blue-black hair without thinking, earning a satisfied smirk.

Then his breathing went ragged as the world swirled down to the space between them, the closing gap, before he was nothing but white-hot sensation, gripping the arms of the chair to stay tethered to reality.

“Oh, Mother, fuck that feels good.”

“Told you I'm talented."

—

“And then I went to sleep, and we never talked about it again.”

Nesta had flung an arm over her eyes as she listened, sprawled across the bed now in surrender to the images pouring through her mind.

“Just like that. Just casual oral sex between friends. I can never look him in the eye again, but I also can't wait for him to know that I know. Oh no, and Feyre? Is it my obligation to tell my baby sister that our husbands have..? Please tell me that's it."

Cassian couldn’t help but smile despite his mortification as his wife peeked out from under her arm, assessing. For all Nesta’s dramatics he knew she was listening carefully, holding space for him the way she always had. Her jokes were never aimed to wound, but rather to show him that she could handle whatever he gave her, that she wasn’t afraid of who he was and who he’d been.

“That’s mostly it.”

“Cassian.”

“Look, we’re already here.” He passed her the slice of cake the House dropped onto the nightstand, hoping some sugar might help the bitter pill go down. “I might as well tell you about Amren.”

“Amren?!”

—

There was only one bed.

Cassian had faced monsters, undead creatures, yet nothing in his two hundred years of life compared to the terror he felt staring at that single, solitary bed.

“Why have you stopped?” demanded Amren. “Did you forget how to walk through a door?”

Rhys had sent them near their southern border with Day, their first mission together since Amren’s appointment to the court. They were supposed to retrieve an enchanted mirror guarded by a cantankerous cyclops and his herd of mammoths, had been waylaid by a huge storm that blew in from the west that made flying impossible. But the warrior in Cassian was more worried about the volatile creature in the tavern attic with him now, despite her markedly smaller stature.

“I don’t even think we could share the bed.” He cast a glance around at the rest of the room, which didn’t take long considering how fucking tiny it was, the sharp cant of the roof. “You're small enough to fit in the chair if you curl up like a cat.”

Amren grew impatient with him blocking the door and ducked through the tunnel between his wing and leg to get around him. He shivered when she brushed the edge, grateful the tiny fae was now too busy surveying the room in abject disgust.

“I will not sleep in that chair. I will take the bed, and you can swallow your male pride and sleep on the floor.”

“And if I refuse?”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.”

She planted her hands on her hips when she said it, but the positioning was slightly off, unrehearsed as she was from developing her gestures in this body in solitude. The effect of that in juxtaposition with her terrifying mercury eyes and awkward attempt at slang made Cassian burst out laughing. “I hate to break it to you, but there’s no way I’m fitting on the floor.”

She didn’t appreciate his words, definitely didn’t appreciate the laughter, but even she could see his point. There was barely enough room for them both to stand, let alone to get his wings in any kind of position that didn’t leave him bent like a broken parasol.

Amren scowled. “Sleep outside then, hang from a tree by your feet or whatever it is your kind do.”

Cassian let the casual cruelty roll over him, used to being looked down on by High Fae. “They’re your kind now, too, you know. You should learn about the people you serve.”

“I know all that I need to, boy,” she snapped. She was ripping through her miniature pack now, searching for something that must’ve sunk to the bottom. “Chiefly that I will sleep here and you will manage elsewhere.”

“Trust me, I would love nothing more than to not share this room, but it’s raining. So you’re stuck with me unless you’d rather I smell like a wet mutt tomorrow.”

Having found what she was looking for, Amren straightened and regarded him over one shoulder, the effect somewhat dampened by the fact she had to crane her neck all the way back at a weird angle to see his face. Cassian felt a nervousness flutter in his stomach, suddenly remembering all she was capable of, what she’d probably have no scruples doing to him. But after a moment she snorted, as if sensing his caution.

“Very well, then.”

She sneered hard enough he thought her face might split before she perched on the edge of the bed and took a swig from a flask, lips coming away ruby.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Cassian said as he removed his own pack, tucking it under the chair she definitely would’ve fit in. Maybe talking about herself would blunt her spikiness, he thought. It always seemed to cheer Rhys up. “What’s with the blood? Is it just for fun or is it part of your whole..” He waved a hand in her direction. “Image. The scary reputation thing.”

“Language has truly declined in the last few millennia. The blood is necessary. That will be the end of your questions.”

The cap of her flask screwed shut of its own accord, metal glinting in the low faelights.

“Fine, fuck. Just trying to be friendly. Do they not do that where you’re from?”

She fixed him with that eerie silver stare that promised the separation of his balls from the rest of him. “Enough. Questions.”

He took her seriously this time, darting from the room when she started pulling out her sleep clothes.

After scarfing down a serviceable meal in the tavern below, Cassian felt the tiredness settle over him like smoke, making his brain fuggy. Amren turned away from him when he returned, and he peeled off his wet leathers with as much modesty as the small room allowed, not wanting to chance asking her to step out. He could shield most of his body with his wings from the back anyway, but he felt her piercing eyes on him, the air charged with something he couldn’t quite place. At first he thought he’d pissed her off further, and was prepared to do some half-hearted groveling when a cold finger traced down the edge of his wing, making him yelp.

“Mother fuck, a little warning?”

He twisted to see Amren right behind him with her pinky raised, the blood red nail tipping it talon-sharp. “I heard these wings were sensitive.”

“Yeah, and it’s also considered pretty fucking rude to touch them without asking,” Cassian choked out when she reached up again, still reeling from the aftershocks of the unanticipated touch. Her eyes swirled like a midwinter squall.

“It was your suggestion I learn about my people.”

He knew she could scent his arousal from the feline smile that spread across her face, that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Stop looking at me like you want to eat me.”

“But you look delicious.”

He couldn’t tell if that meant she wanted to bed him or drain him dry, though neither made sense, nor did the way she knew how to touch his wings that made a fierce hunger spark within him. While it was true he hadn’t slept with anyone in a while, barely anyone outside Illyria really got it right. He suppressed a shudder, heard her sardonic chuckle. 

“My power is in the blood. The flow, the pressure,” Amren said, and Cassian understood as he felt his blood rush south at her words, even as the purr of her voice wrapped around his neck like a noose. “It bends to my will.”

“Careful,” he managed, holding back a groan. “That’s my favorite part.”

Sharp nails tapped on the outer bone of his wing, making him shudder in earnest this time. “I’d have guessed it would be this.”

“Fuck,” he breathed. This was spiraling and he was quickly losing what little ability he had to make tactical decisions. “Maybe this isn’t such a -”

“Shall I stop?”

“NO. No.” His body screamed in protest at the suggestion, and though Rhys would likely kill him for this it was too good,  “Let’s just agree that as of tomorrow, this never happened,” he panted, and when he turned Amren was grinning at him, maybe the first real smile he’d seen her make, just the briefest flash before she pounced. 

It was a whirlwind from that moment on, and he didn’t remember much save for the way she loomed over him, somehow larger than she had any right to be. The blood whizzed through his brain, making him delirious but it felt fucking incredible, like slamming back a shot of pure lifeforce. Amren’s hands danced over his wings expertly, making him see double, so that he didn’t even think to ask how she knew just how to touch them until he was splayed on the floor with his legs under the bed, more thoroughly wrung out than he’d been in decades.

“I had wings once, before I came to your world.”

Perhaps it was the naivety of the afterglow, but Cassian was surprised by the crack that formed in his heart as she said it, the pain that lingered there. She’d been right earlier - his wings were his favorite part, a constant connection to his homeland, his freedom.

“Do you miss them?”

“Every day.”

He lifted a hand to brush back the raven hair that had fallen across her face, but she smacked him away savagely, pushing off his chest to her feet. His head swam as she towered over him, hands on her hips correctly this time.

“It seems you fit on the floor after all, so I’ll be taking the bed. And if you ever speak of this to anyone,” Amren shook the flask, grinning with all her teeth. “I’ll make a special vintage out of you.”

—

Nesta was laughing hysterically now, silver tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.

“I’m so glad my misery is funny to you.” Cassian crossed his arms and his mate immediately reached over to uncross them, crawling to sit astride him so he couldn’t close off again. 

“Oh my. Oh. This is..” She took his face in her hands, pressed a kiss to his furrowed brow as her laughter ebbed. “I love you.”

“Yeah, you better.”

She brushed her nose against his, gentler now, a gesture that everything was okay. “You know, it does make me feel better in a way. That there wasn’t anything special about Morrigan, because this is just who you are.”

“What, an idiot?”

“No,” she assured him, stifling the laugh that still wanted to bubble forth. “Open to opportunity.”

“I guess so? I’ve never really thought about it before.”

Nesta lay against him in answer, resting her head on his chest. He took the opportunity to run his fingers through her curtain of hair, and she hummed when he scratched lightly at her scalp, holding him tighter.

“As long as you’re faithful to me now and you’ve never slept with one of my sisters, I don’t much care. You haven’t, right?

“No way, sweetheart. Promise.”

He felt her smile against his skin, the corner of it quirked in a way he knew meant she was scheming over something, or else setting a trap. ”So…” she breathed, her tone full of courtier’s dodginess. “Who was the best?”

“You, of course.”

“Oh no you don’t.” She sat up and glared at him, though he saw the lightness in her eyes, the zing of excitement pulsing under her skin. “You opened this door, you can’t blame me for wanting to walk through it. Answer.”

“Fine. Az was the best. Hands down. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I have an opportunity you might be open to.”

Nesta dug one hand into his hair, the other tracing a line from the hollow of his throat to where their bodies connected and Cassian knew he was fucked, knew she’d do everything she could to outshine those memories, to make hers the only body that lived in his mind.

He didn’t have the heart to tell her that was already true, though his motives were not entirely selfless as she slipped her night dress over her head, and they twined for hours with unbridled glee, pausing every now and then for Nesta to fall apart with laughter.

---

Me: I’m gonna write fun silly smut! Also me: *drags out the saddest fucking background info to justify it* And you can pry pansexual switch king Cassian from my cold ass dead ass hands. Also think this may be the first Amren/Cassian fic ever. Is this my legacy? Oh god.

[002yb]

Ok ok ok ok what if dickjay dating but somehow Dick is the only one "not in the loop". He got lunch delivered to him, they sleep together, do laundry, he got head, and Dick is still 💀 "wow what's all this then" aka a comedy of errors

In his defense, Dick honestly believes he's fallen into his first casual relationship. A no-strings-attached bros with benefits arrangement.

And he's killing it.

No one ever thought they'd see the day, but Dick has done it - from traditionalist to modern man 😎 check him out~

Spoiler: it doesn't last.

At the start though, it's good. There's no pressure, no stress. It's just a good time. A great time, really.

From quickies on the streets to love fucking in the sheets

Dick being caught off guard with how sexually compatible Jason and he are. And a little startled at himself for getting so addicted to it. How can he not love it though? Jason is -- wow.

It's not just the sex, either. They start to gravitate towards one another. It escalates from booty calls to hanging out. Sometimes fucking, sometimes just watching that movie they brought up as pretense to have the other come around.

It's Dick being at Jason's more often than not - crashing on his bed, his laundry mixed with Jason's. It's Jason having a meal waiting when Dick gets home so that he doesn't go from work to patrol hungry. It's Dick stopping on his way home for miscellaneous things that Jason texts him about.

And fuck, if it isn't laughter. Bantering and shooting the shit; Jason bemoaning all the puns but meeting Dick quip for quip. It's adventure as they go about the mundanities of life, challenges as they provoke one another - poking and prodding and playfully tormenting each other. It's easy. Comfortable.

Of course Dick falls in love. They're essentially in a backwards relationship.

A bit of time passes and all at once Dick becomes miserable. All the pride he had about the 'casual modern relationship'? Gone. Dick can't do casual to save his life, but he knows he sucks at commitment so he's (⸝⸝⸝･ᯅ･⸝⸝⸝)◞♥︎

Dick being stressed because this good thing he has going with Jason will be ruined because Dick went and caught feelings

He's a man in distress, help

Jason being sensitive to Dick's change in mood; the newfound tension in how he carries himself around Jason

Which leads to a fight because Jason takes it personal

Which makes Dick fold so fast. He caves, admitting the truth of his feelings to Jason and Jason is 😳 because omgomgwhat?

Because Dick, bless him, is all-in: "I love you."

And it feels good to say; it makes his stomach flip - all butterflies and wonder. And his heart is so warm and full, his smile devastating and Jason is ( ；∀；) because...really?

From Jason's perspective, he thinks of this development as natural progress in their months long relationship

All is well because Jason reciprocates, even if he doesn't drop the l-bomb yet. That's fine though. Dick is over the moon delighted that Jason is giving him a chance; it's amazing!

So of course Dick is on it. Just the sweetest a boyfriend can be.

Dick thinks they're on week 1 of a relationship, meanwhile Jason thinks they're on month 4 or something. Just a big discrepancy and neither of them realize the error yet.

Anyway, Dick finally starts acting like a boyfriend and the shift is a lot for Jason to wrap his head around. It's too sudden; it's too much and it overwhelms him enough that he starts flustering bad. Just. Jason putting on the brakes because he can't fucking breathe he's so flustered help

'Where did all this affection come from?'

'We're dating?'

'Well, yeah.' Jason says, 'It wasn't like this before though.'

Which leads to another error because Dick assumes Jason means that it wasn't like this for Jason before in other relationships.

'In your other relationships?'

'What? No, you're my first- uh, I mean-' Exposed.

Which. Oh. That's. Oh, wow. ///U///

So Dick is reeling from that, but then realization sets in and panic takes over because hold the fuck up. If it's not about that, then...'how long have we been dating?'

'Four months?'

Yep, panic.

'You mean days?'

Confusion twisting Jason's features, but he's always been quick so realization hits fast and his eyes widen because 'omfg, don't even-'

The guilt is immediate. Dick is actually mortified.

'No one told me!'

Jason full on screeching in mortification of his own because 'ffs we did xxxx and xxxxxxxx and xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx!!!'

The two of them caught in a perpetual state of OTL until Dick starts laughing at it all. And Jason kicks at him, groaning at Dick to stfu Jason is so embarrassed he can't ahhhhhhhhh

Dick smiling at Jason, all warmth and wonder and it devastates Jason the same as it always does. His heart skipping a beat and his gaze softening because Dick looks at him with so much fondness and adoration, 'I still love you.'

And Jason melts, pulling Dick in for a chaste little peck that Dick chases after before laying Jason down, content with the way Jason's arms wrap around the back of Dick's neck and how Jason laughs, incredulous at their accidental shenanigans before breathing the softest, 'i love you, too'

Extra: they have three anniversaries and it's ridiculous but they won't have it any other way.