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thatbanditqueen · 1 year

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Basic Training Ch 3

A response to the prompt: "You're staring." Thanks to my harem cohort @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @be-my-ally @powerofelvis and @whositmcwhatsit

Summary: Bess heads to the dance the Morale, Welfare and Recreation Committee for the 37th armored tank division is throwing, and manages to avoid dancing with the most notorious soldier on post, who cannot seem to take his eyes off her.

Warnings: None! Wait, kissing. Swear words. This may be the slowest burn yet. Probably typos, I wrote about 1K words over the last three days and then the rest in a fever dream. So.... may not make sense. Also I am pretty sure the first phase of basic training would not have them in tanks yet, but....I am playing fast and loose with Army life in this one.

Word Count: 5. 3 K

This is my newest WIP, please like, comment, reblog and tag and let me know what you think. Thank you for reading.

You can catch up on the previous chapters here

Basic Training Chapter 3: Just Kiss Me

Saturday, April 5, 1958

7:30 p.m.

The Schwartz Residence, Killeen

Just as her shoe hit the bottom stair, Bess realized she had left her lipstick in her room and was turning back around to grab it when she saw Kay sitting in the living room, dressed in a pink cocktail dress. Her puffy crinoline skirt was gathered in a heap around her as she shifted in place, adjusting her pearl necklace.

“Um, where do you think you are going?”

Kay looked up, tucking her brown hair behind her ear as she eyed the tight, fitted sheath dress Bess was wearing. She smiled at how the white sequins and embroidered red flowers glowed iridescent in the dim light and whistled low.

“Who are you dressing up for? The guy who you snuck in last weekend?”

“What makes you think there’s a guy, Katherine, honestly. I don’t sneak men into our house.”

“Uh huh, so you’re all gussied up in your favorite dress just for a bunch of enlisted soldiers?”

Kay grabbed her purse and followed her sister to the door.

“Why are you being weird Bess, I always come with you? You’ve been going to army dances since you were sixteen. I’m about to graduate, plus, I told Dickey I’d meet him there.”

Bess sighed, thinking of Kay’s latest boyfriend. She supposed that she should be happy because he seemed like a harmless nerd, and, according to the files she had pulled on him, was not married, inbred or bankrupt.

“I just - we - I didn’t invite you to this dance because it’s an enlisted platoon. I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Wow, you must really like who ever it is, if you don’t want me to see you with him. Too bad. Dori called earlier and told me to come. She’s been trying to reach you all day, by the way.”

Bess locked the door, and they got into her car.

“Can you believe her date?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“Of course, then it all made sense why you guys would be messing around with an enlisted tank unit. How did Dori even get involved with their MWR Committee.”

Bess rolled up her skirt so she could comfortably drive, and shifted into reverse, arching her eye bow at her younger sister as she did.

“How do you think? She asked to be reassigned to it two weeks ago.”

“Man oh man, she really is lucky. I wonder if we’ll all get to dance with Elvis?”

“Look, Kay, they sent out a memo to everyone, do NOT make a spectacle over Private Presley. Just act like he’s any other solider”

“Of course Bessie bushka. I’m on my best behavior.”

Bess looked Kay in the eyes as they pulled through the base gate.

“I am just going because I told Dori I would, I don’t wanna stay too late. So maybe Dickey Rooney can drive you home if you wanna swing all night?”

“Yeah, sure, ja volt. You don’t have to be ein klafte, Elisabet.”

**************************************************************

The tight cloth of her dress didn’t have much give, and Bess regretted her choice as she tried to keep up and hold on as she danced

“Look, this is tactical move that requires delicate maneuvers—”

“I’m not spiking the punch, Jim.”

Bess huffed and got into her rhythm as they kept up with the band’s rendition of “Tutti Fruity.” If she let her self relax and swing into each step, it was almost like old times when she, Jim and Ben used to go out dancing in Austin or Killeen and she’d take turns dancing with her fiancee and his best friend all night. They had been the three musketeers. But that was last year, when she had a fiancee. And a different future peering back at her from her crystal ball.

The music brought her out of her silent reverie, and Bess looked to her where the band was performing on stage. The lead singer’s voice reverberated through the building, echoing up into the tin ceiling and back down again, making the room buzz with energy. There were six people in the all-Black Flapjacks: drums, guitar, bass, trumpet and then a male and female vocalist. The men wore matching silver dinner jackets and black bow ties, and the beautiful, Black woman had on a gorgeous silver dress with tulle flowers at the bust.

Bess took a deep breath, her attention shifted back to Jim, whose hands were always steady, but never needy. She was grateful he had agreed to come when she called last night and asked. A year ago they had spent almost all their free time together. Stalwart, an honorable prankster, Jim wasn’t shipping out to the Army Intelligence station in Heidelberg for another two months and Bess wondered if their friendship would end. If Ben’s new German wife would win him over and, like his friend before him, Jim would forget all about the last three years of shared adventures and promises of a lifelong friendship. Men mean it in the moment, Bess thought, I suppose women do to. Forever. What a meaningless word. How can we plan forever when we cannot know the future? The song ended and Jim escorted her off to the side. She looked for her sister, and found her swaying with her beau towards the back, hands clasped together between the lock-eyed look of first love.

“I forgot how good a dancer you are, Schwartz. And in that dress, whoowee! You’re a knock out tonight.”

“You can cut the flattery, Jameson, still not spiking the punch.”

“S’not flattery, how dare you insinuate that I would be disingenuous? You look good all dolled up, s'nice to see you this way. It’s almost like fun Bess is back, though a year ago she wudda helped me spike the punch.”

He took out his large, dark leather flask and handed it to her after taking a nip. Bess’ face scrunched up in distaste as the vodka burned down her throat, but she greedily held on and took another long drink.

“A year ago I didn’t work here, I was just hanging out with some of the reprobates from the German language division. Now it would be bad form for a Front Office secretary to spike the punch.”

“Look around, Bessie, this crowd needs to relax. They’re alllllll keyed up waiting for that Hound Dog.”

Jim was right, a heightened sense of anticipation pervaded the warehouse, even the strings of colorful paper lanterns seemed to sway with anxious excitement above them. Bess looked over at the big bowl of punch, next to the trays of deviled eggs, brisket sliders, the lime jello mold filled with seafood salad, pineapple upside down cake and more. She was sizing up the punch and checking her breath as they waited for the next song when she heard a wave of hushed murmurs ripple through the large room and turned to see Elvis, Dori and a few other soldiers in dress uniform enter the dance together. Bess’ eyes narrowed as Elvis’ looked at her.

Jim followed her gaze, then met Bess’ eyes.

“There he is, as handsome as he looks in the movies.”

Bess’ grimace could have cut through glass as she turned to her friend and elbowed him.

“Not you too?”

“What, art thou so high above us mere mortals that you don’t find Elvis Presley attractive, Schwartz? To gouache for a scholar like you?”

“It’s Private Presley now. And I’m not made of marble, Captain. Of course I recognize his attractive features. He just isn’t my type.”

She sniffed, and grabbed the flask from inside Jim’s uniform, the breath coming out of her nose forcefully as she drank a long draught.

“I’ve met him, actually, already. I was there.” Bess took another drink, tipping the flask back again and noticing that the liquid didn’t burn so much this time. “When he asked Dori out. I’m happy for her.”

Elvis and Dori began walking toward them, and Jim noticed how Bess’ stance changed as she crossed her arms and pursed her lips, suggesting that she what felt was the opposite of 'happy for Dori.'

“Well, I was at the press conference his first day here, at least four reporters asked if he has a girlfriend. Said he was playing the field so many times, sounded like a broken record.”

Bess straightened as she watched Elvis’ hand tighten around Dori’s waist and push under her bust while the blonde leaned into it and introduced Elvis to some of the eager MWR committee members who had stopped them.

“Yeah, that would be the alternate version of Hound Dog, it’s on the B side.”

Jim chuckled at Bess’ joke, but she didn’t notice, she was busy watching the Hound Dog himself, and caught Elvis glance over at her and give a little nod before his lips bent into a smirk. She realized she was frowning and plastered a big smile on her face. Jim watched this exchange with interest as Bess turned back when he spoke.

“Yeah, I see what you mean. Definitely not your type.”

Bess scowled and whispered for him to stop as Elvis, Dori and another soldier approached them.

“Why Captain Daniels, how nice to see ya over at this little ol’ dance for the 37th, are you Bess’ date ta night? Or sneaking in to try and meet you-know-who?”

Dori giggled and playfully tapped Elvis’ chest. In case, you know, they didn’t get whom she was referencing.

Jim nodded and shook his hand to stop Elvis and the other soldier from saluting him.

“Oh, neither, actually, I’m just here to make sure Schwartz doesn’t spike the punch.”

“Don’t believe a word the Captain here says. This is a great introduction, by the way. Captain Daniels, meet Private Presley, you know Doreen of course, and then, well, I cannot say we’re acquainted.”

The liquor had loosened Bess up and she giddily put out her hand to the other soldier, as Elvis fiddled with the blue dress uniform cap under his right arm and took charge of the conversation.

“This is Rexadus, I mean, uh, Private Mansfield, he’s in the 37th wit me, another Mephisss boy, we were inducted ta gather, actually." Now Elvis was turning his hat over and examining it, speaking with confidence, almost as if from a script he had rehearsed in his head. "He’s a solid, solid, guy. He really is. Guess I’m lucky, since he’s spending all his time stuck in a metal box with my ass - I mean stuck with my behind.”

Rex her shook their hands with tight, swift grip and a warm smile. Jim raised his eyebrows at Bess.

“And how do you find the Army, so far, Privates?”

“Well, it was easy ta find, just follow all the tanks.” Elvis smiled and looked down. “Nah, well, speaking’ jus for me, I mean, I was real honored when President Eisenhower sent me an invitation to this here costume party, and all the boys are real nice."

There was that scripted voice again, Bess mused. She had seen under the hood and Elvis' attitude toward being drafted had not struck her as honored and grateful.

"It’s not easy, golly, I tell you, it’s really whooping my - uh - caboose. But I never felt I earned my supper so well, that’s the God’s honest truth.”

Dori giggled like Elvis was the wittiest man in the world, but he barely noticed, his eyes were focused on Bess and she coughed, uncomfortably. It was hard not stare back. She almost forgot to breathe, and exhaled deeply as she forced herself to look over at the band.

Her eyes trailed over to the food, and she looked back at Elvis with concern, knowing he rarely actually went to the mess hall. He had been meeting her at her back stairwell every evening at 5:15, opening her car door and getting in without even asking. As if it were his own car and sliding across her seat was the most normal thing in the world. It actually did seem normal now, and had become part of her daily routine these last three days. They sat there in their own private enclave, and every time, as he laid his head between her thighs and rubbed her waist, she told him that they were just friends hanging out. Yesterday they’d talked past dinner hours and she’d ask him if he didn’t want to go to get food, prompting Elvis to share how someone had yelled out in line at him Monday, asking if he missed his teddy bears, and he hadn’t gone back since. Sergeant Norwood’s wife, apparently, was providing him with a loaf’s worth of peanut butter sandwiches every night. But that wouldn’t have happened this evening and Bess thoughtfully looked over at the food table.

“You must be hungry. All of you, I mean.” Bess stuttered, trying not to stare at Elvis, which, for some reason, backfired, because consciously trying not to made her think about him even more and she failed horribly at being able to stray from his blue eyes for very long. “Because you just got here. Of course.”

Dori smiled and took this as her cue to play hostess and lead Elvis away to the refreshments.

“Yes, of course, of course, y’all must be hungry, doing those tank exercises all day. I made the seafood dip over there in the jello mold, it’s a recipe from Ladies’ Home Journal, you simply must try it and tell me what you think.”

“Aw, darlin’, I don’t, don’t eat seafood.”

“The brisket is pretty good.” Bess chimed in.

Dori smiled even deeper.

“Hmm, well, I suppose it’s probably ok for a Yankee like ya self, Bess honey.”

She pulled her arm tighter around Elvis, leading him to to the brisket as Bess heard her say, “Personally, I find Millie’s brisket a little bland and dried out, but come on, you’re a growin’ boy, need to refresh ya energy.”

Dori’s giggle trilled back as she walked him away and Bess frowned again when Elvis turned back over his shoulder, clearly grinning deeper as he took in Bess’ eyes following him.

She made small talk with Rex, mentioning how the last time she had heard this band, The Flapjack’s, they had played all of Elvis’ big hits and there had been none tonight.

“He bribed them.”

Rex whispered, looking over at where Elvis and Dori stood, as she fed him a deviled egg and then a brisket slider, sticking her finger in his mouth to lick the barbecue sauce off. Her high laugh echoed all throughout he warehouse, prompting Bess to roll her eyes.

“Bribed them?”

“Yeah,” Rex continued. “Not to play ‘Hound Dog,’ not to play any of ‘em. And he bought cases of cigarettes for all the guys in our unit. He wants to make sure tonight is nice, smooth, and normal. As it can be for him, I suppose.”

Before she had the opportunity to inquire further Bess was distracted by the band as they started up a new song, a rendition of Johnny Mathis’ “Chances Are,” and she watched Dori squeal that she loved this song.

Bess smiled at Rex.

“Well Private, want to cut a rug?”

He hesitated. “Uh, I think -" he looked over at Elvis, who was making his way to the corner of the dance floor. “Probably better if I don’t, gonna go check out the chow.”

“C’mon, you little Yankee, I’ll dance with you, even if you have no taste in brisket.” Jim took her hand and raised his eyebrow. “By the way, Elvis Presley is in love with you Bess.”

“Stop it, Jameson.”

“Did you see how his buddy hardly touched you?”

“How would he know? These boys don’t talk about their crushes in their bunks at night. ‘Sides,he is here with a date.”

“Oh fooey! Elvis doesn’t have to tell him anything, all Rexadus, or anyone need do, is clock how that boy looks at you and, man, that’s all she wrote. You don’t dance with another soldier’s girl, it’s the code. Dori doesn’t stand a chance, honey, he’s just too polite to turn her down. I bet his mama is just like her. Which is probably why he likes you.”

Bess gave him a stare.

“Ok, maybe not exactly like Dori. I cannot see the good Mrs. Presley making you go all the way to Dallas so she can dress shop at the boutiques. They were share croppers, right?”

Bess nodded at Jim as she swayed with him, attempting very hard not to look over at where Elvis and Dori slowly danced.

“Something like that. Very very poor. But Jim, you dance with me, and I was your friend’s girl for two years.”

“That’s different Bess, I hate most women.” Jim looked back over at Rex and his voice trailed off. "Most people, actually. You are saving me from all the eager beavers here looking to snag an officer as a husband.”

“Well, looking around, some of them would probably settle for snagging just a night with an officer.”

They laughed and Jim led her around the dance floor in perhaps the most chaste slow grip of any of any officer or gentleman that danced a slow dance that evening.

The song ended, and the band kept going with their version of Sam Cooke’s hit “You Send Me.”

Bess could not help herself, and found her eyes move to watch Dori press her cheek to Elvis’ and it made Bess’ stomach clench inadvertently. Elvis’ eyes locked on hers while he pulled Dori tighter to him, tilting his head with a smirk. Something in his eyes told Bess he could tell how much she envied her girlfriend, a fact she refused to even concede to herself as she looked away, scanning the room for her sister. To her dismay, Kay was now kissing her dweeby young lieutenant toward the back of the warehouse, not so much dancing as staggering back and forth in place.

Hitting someone’s shoulder, Bess turned to apologize until she saw Elvis had moved Dori right behind them. She stepped hard on Elvis’ foot, then apologized loudly and profusely. That didn’t get him to scout off and they remained dancing next to each other as Jim ignored Bess’s pinches at his wrists clearly signaling for him to lead her away.

“Why hello there, Moo Moo, fancy bumping into you here?”

Dori smiled big and pushed her hands further up around Elvis neck as she swayed to the rhythm.

“Moo Moo? Y’all are gonna havta tell me bout that” Dori giggled. “And look at you Bessie, honey, I just LOVE your dress.” Her eyes moved to Jim. “Y’all having fun?”

Bess stepped closer to Jim, nodding and avoiding the coy irreverence in Elvis’ dark blue eyes as she slyly tried to navigate her partner away from them. She kicked Jim’s shin to let him know that if he did not politely guide her away this very instant she would begin to kick harder.

*******************************************************

Leaning against the wall during a ballad, Bess found herself making a mental note that Elvis’ seemed to avoid dancing to the faster songs. During this one, he had gone off to get some punch and then started walking in her direction only to be assaulted by a troop of MWR committee members, offering him samples of the desserts they had baked as a pretext to come and talk to him. Bess smiled as one asked him to dance, then turned at Mabel’s voice, observing the rosy glow of the other secretary’s cheeks.

“Mhmmm, the punch is good tonight.”

Bess smiled, then leaned in to smell Mabel’s glass.

“How many of these have you had, Mabel?”

The older woman replied without missing a beat. “Five.”

“I’m cutting you off, I think it’s been spiked.”

“Of course it has. By me.” Mabel took her glass back, gulping the rest down with a wink. “Someone needed to liven up this funeral. Hold this for me, won’t you?” She asked, and Bess’ jaw dropped a bit as she watched Mabel cut in on Dori.

Bess wondered if Mabel still preferred Burt Lancaster to the movie star she currently leaned her head against, happily watching her colleague cozily nuzzle into Elvis tall frame. He was a good sport, joking and swaying with Mabel for a second dance, then stepping to the side and chatting with another swarm of woman who tried to contain their eagerness as they brought him another tribute of dessert platters.

Bess danced to The Flapjacks performance of “Jambalaya,” but quit as the music turned toward more and more ballads while the night went on. It was late, the people on the dance floor seemed to have coupled up and the decorum had slowly fallen to the wayside as the senior personnel disappeared. The air fell thick with a heady, hazy lust provoked by the swell of sweet, slow rhythm and blues and the release dancing provided from the stress of barracks life. Jim had ducked out, and Bess wished she had given Kay her keys and gone with him. She managed to stay as far away from Elvis as she could through he evening, which wasn’t hard. If Dori was not monopolizing him, he only made it a few feet before another woman tapped on his shoulder. During this time, Dori had cornered her and begun drilling Bess for information, asking why she didn’t pick up her phone anymore, and what the deal was with Elvis.

“Moo Moo? Is that a nick name? Are you sure y’all are just friends? Honey, say the word, and I will be on my way. I do not throw myself at men.”

Thinking of their double date last week, Bess restrained herself from explaining that this seemed to be Dori’s primary hobby.

“I promise, it’s a silly nick name, Moo Moo is what he called his childhood cow named, get this, Bess. I’m telling you, Doreen, we’ve just accidentally stumbled into a very casual friendship.” She rubbed her friend’s shoulder, and looked out at Elvis laughing with his dance partner.

“He's lonely, and just jives more with women. You saw him with Mabel in the office. I’m not saying I see wedding bells in your future either. But then again, Dori, you don’t want to get romantically involved with Elvis Presley, do you? I can only imagine the havoc he is going to wreak on the girls in this town once he gets his bearing and into phase two. That boy is a fast operator, so fast you don’t even know what happened and boom, you’re asking him out.”

Dori narrowed her eyes. “Mmmhmm. Well, honestly I don’t want to marry him, Bessie Boo. I just want to experience him. He is so soft, Bess. That jaw! And those eyes. Ufffff. And when he kisses you, oh, it’s like having lightening strike your cheek. I’m fixin’ to get more before the night is over, hopefully with my mouth.”

She winked as the song ended, and strode off to get him back. Bess had to giggle at the glare Dori shot a younger girl from the switchboard office who looked like she was about to ask Elvis to dance.

Lonely, awkward, and ready to be done, Bess rolled off the wall and told Kay she was ready to leave. Her sister politely told her to get bent, promising Dickey would drive her home. So Bess subtlety slipped out of the side door next to the stage and made her way towards her car, ambling slowly in the cool evening air. Bess found it a sweet respite from the crowded, stuffy ware house stuffy. Out here, it was peaceful, and she savored the darkness as she looked up into the black sky. The stars and moon were hidden by some clouds, and Bess tried to get lost in the murky shadows as she wandered away from the sounds of the dance. She begged the wind to tamp down the anxious buzzing in her head. It was then, when she paused in the passage way between two tall buildings, that she heard the sound of footsteps following her, and turned to see a tall, dark figure striding toward her with purposeful, swift steps. His shoulders were back and his hands were out and he slowed when he heard Bess speak.

“All dressed up and marching in a hurry, huh? Loose your parade, Tupelo?”

Elvis’ gait turned into a wide swagger and Bess stumbled into the building backing away from the force of Elvis’ magnetism. It was not a smart escape strategy because he followed in step, his hands on his waist as he looked her over.

“Al - al - always, the smart ass, huh?”

“I’ve been a smart ass my whole life, Tupelo. Try to keep up.”

Elvis shook his head, chuckling low.

“You’re staring. Stop it.”

“Honey, if you didn’t want me to stare at you, shoulda worn a different dress.”

She gasped, and Elvis stepped closer, his right arm up against the wall while his left moved over her waist and he whispered into her forehead, his voice was low, teasing, almost babyish.

“Be honest, Moo Moo, did you come out here cuz you wanted me to chase you?”

Bess looked at the eaves of the building above her, she could hear the faint sound of the band back at the dance playing “The Girl Can’t Help It” and Elvis hips swayed very slowly at half time with the beat.

“Nope, I, I was leaving, actually.”

“How could you leave without dancing with me, baby. Not even once. An ya hardly even talked to me all night. Every other girl in there is ready and rearin' ta pounce on me, but you make me come chase after you?”

“I’m - I’m not like very other girl, Elvis. I’m not trying - trying to ….”

The way his thumb trailed up her arm made Bess shudder and she lost her train of thought.

“Hmmm. Not tryin’ to what, Moo, huh?”

He leaned into her ear as he spoke, and the skin on her bare shoulder prickled as his thumb rubbed over it while he whispered softly.

His voice was warm on her neck, and it reminded her of the first summer Mama drove her and Kay down to Galveston spontaneously for a week. They had stayed in a cheap motel across from the beach and enjoyed the warm Gulf water while eating fried shrimp and hush puppies and getting sunburnt. There, in the golden sun of the Texas Gulf, Bess had forgotten how uncomfortable it was to move through the world. No, standing where the sun met the surf had set her free, and she had become a wild animal dancing in the water and screaming into the waves while the sand crabs tickled her feet.

Elvis’ breath on her neck had the same effect. She felt wild, relaxed, totally at the whim of her body as she bit her bottom lip and looked up at his half-lidded eyes. She wanted to pull him close and scream into his mouth, howl at the untamed force of nature that rippled beneath his cheeks. He tightened his hand at her waist and kissed her neck, but then stepped back at her shudder.

“Ya scared not scared of me, Moo Moo, are you?”

She shook her head, but trembled as Elvis fingers feathered lightly down her arm.

“You don’t never have to be scared of me, baby, I won’t ever hurt you.”

“Elvis, I -”

He kissed her neck again, murmuring into her skin. The top of his cap rubbed into her hair. “Wanna get out of here? Go somewhere we can jus… Talk?””

Just as Bess began to answer, she felt a light sprinkle of water on her nose and looked up as it started to drizzle down on them. The rain brought her wits back to her and she gently pushed Elvis away, feeling the water increase and her hair slip down over her face. She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

“You are here on a date with someone else, and I have to go home.” Squeezing him in a tight hug, she kissed his cheek one last time as he nodded, before removing her heels and sprinting off through the puddles to find her car.

**************************************************

Bess had managed to wash her face and get her dress off before she succumbed to the extreme need for a pot of hot tea. Now she stood in her kitchen, towel drying her hair and shivering as she waited for the kettle to boil. Hearing a knock at the door, she yelled out hurrying to the front of the house.

“Kay, the door is open! Or is numbnuts a catching disorder - shit.”

There was Elvis, hat in hand, on her front doorstep.

“Numbnuts?”

She swayed to the side, watching the back of a white Studebaker whirl around the corner. A white Studebaker very much like the one Mabel owned.

“My sister’s boyfriend is not the sharpest shooter in his platoon.” She held her robe closed as she looked down at her thin, white silk night gown. The thin matching robe didn’t do much, but she felt more decorous pulling it over herself.

“Did Mabel sneak you off post?”

Elvis grinned mischievously and strode past her into the house

“Hello to you too, Bessie, whatcha cookin, good lookin'?”

Closing the door, she shoved him as he walked backwards down the hallway.

“Don’t you hello me, what are you doing here?”

Elvis unbuttoned his jacket, and draped it around her shivering body.

“Still cold honey?” He drew her in, rubbing her shoulders. “Let me see if I can warm ya up.”

His jacket was still cozy with the heat of his body as he drew Bess into him. Breathless, she let him enclose her in his embrace, folding her arms into his chest as she lifted her chin up to gaze into his eyes.

“There she is, there’s a good lil Moo Moo.”

Elvis leaned down to bundle her further into him, his hands moving inside her open robe to caress the sides of her body, his nose stroking hers as she closed her eyes and whispered into his jaw.

“Elvis, you shouldn’t be here.”

“I know honey.” He pulled her closer, kissing her cheek at the fold of her earlobe as Bess crushed into his.

Her mind was racing, racing the with knowledge that at any moment her 17 year old sister would come home and probably know how to work the door knob. Racing with the knowledge that her father and mother were flying back to Waco tomorrow and she needed to be rested and alert when she drove to pick them up. Racing with the knowledge that Elvis Presley was the absolutely worst choice for a romantic entanglement or fling, not just because he was famous, handsome, rich and probably already dating any number of women in Los Angeles, Memphis and God knows where else. And therefore, an unimaginable person to be seen with publicly or explain to her family.

But it was worse than that, she could already tell, from the way her mind bent towards him all through the day when he wasn’t around, and directed itself to him with an intense, buzzing focus when he was. For these reasons, she knew he would be the worst kind of all-consuming distraction that she could possible let herself get involved with right now.

Her mouth had other plans. Namely, how could it find his mouth?

“Elvis.” She mumbled as her lips brushed the nape of his neck and her hands wrapped around his body.

“Yes Bess?”

He looked down at her as she tried to find the words she wanted to say.

“I - I - I”

“I know honey, you don’t date soldiers.”

She smiled a lazy, goofy half smile.

“Mmmhmmm.”

He gripped her tighter, pinching the flesh at her sides.

“Honey, dating is not the word on my mind right now. I am not interested in asking you on a date.”

He kissed her forehead.

“I do not have no intention of driving up to your house in my pink Cadillac.”

He kissed her nose.

“I don’ wanna have to come meet ya mama and shake your daddy’s hand.”

He kissed her cupid’s bow.

“And I definitely ain’t about to take you out to fancy restaurant and buy you dinner.”

He kissed her lightly on the top of her mouth, his teeth grating over her lip.

“I do not want to date you, Bess.”

“Good, because I don’t want to date you either.”

“So don’t date me, baby. Jus kiss me.”

**********************************************************

Click here to read Chapter Four: Dance

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casketscratch · 6 months

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There is so much happening with my family that any time I try to sit down and put words to it, my brain just stalls. Tires stuck in the mud and going nowhere while you hit the gas kind of feeling.

Content warnings for way too much writing, way too much writing about my own family, grief, child abuse, denial, suicide threats (not mine, just mention of someone else's), cocsa, sorry if I missed any but consider it a dumping ground.

My maternal grandad passed away earlier this year. As my sister put it: my dad sucked, my stepdad sucked, and he was really the only one in the family who you'd call fatherly. I haven't cried about it. I haven't missed him. I haven't felt anything except nothing. Which I also know isn't true, because when I went to see him in the hospital for the last time (knowing it would be the last time), we dissociated so severely in the car on the way home that we split. So there was something there! And now it's gone.

Since he passed, my grandma moved in with my aunt, who couldn't cope. She's... I don't know. I try to be compassionate. I try to be understanding. I know this aunt endured a lot of abuse, and as a kid there was always some crisis revolving around her mental health. Not to be dismissive -- there was a stalker that her mom/my grandma enabled, she was assaulted as a teenager and never got the help she needed, her parents were genuinely neglectful in a lot of ways. My grandma in particular.

I don't really want to get into the weeds about her because it's not the point. The point is that the entire family has suffered for years because she basically sucks the rest of us dry. Even as a little kid, I couldn't ask my family for help or tell them anything because there was always a crisis going on that revolved around her problems.

After a few weeks of living with my grandma, she messaged a bunch of us basically saying that we needed to relocate my grandma for 4 weeks because my aunt needs space to "work on herself." i.e., she's finally taking therapy seriously but only has 4 sessions left because This Fucking Province.

Which... great, because in the lead-up to that e-mail, a lot of us had been talking about learning how to set boundaries as a family, supporting her without constantly rearranging our lives and bankrupting ourselves to pay her rent and bills, about not walking on eggshells because if she gets upset then she'll disappear for hours and vaguepost about suicide. She's in her 50's and it just sets my teeth on edge because I have been catering to her wellbeing my whole life, at my own expense. My sister, too. She had a whole crying breakdown the last time we saw each other because she'd had no room or time to grieve, or take care of her own kids, because she's sort of terrified (I think) that she'll fail to show up for my aunt one day and then be the reason my aunt kills herself. And to some extent I think our entire immediate family acts this way. It's not sustainable anymore.

Which is something I finally expressed to my mom. Whose basement I am living in after having to quit my job, flee the city I was in, etc. You know. Actual crisis, life or death shit. (This is also the aunt who, when I told her I'd been dx'd with DID, thinking she was maybe the one person in the family who'd understand it as someone who's openly lived with CPTSD and talks about it a lot, told me that "just because doctors say you have something, doesn't mean you do" and that was the end of that).

So my grandma is now living with us for four weeks so my aunt can "have space" by entirely upending her grieving mother's life and kicking her out with only a few days notice.

And, like, there is a lot wrapped up in my feelings about my aunt. There's a kind of fucked up survivor's guilt, right? I'm the "good" victim who's "doing the work," it feels like. Somehow I'm more stable despite going through what I did as a kid. Somehow I'm more self-aware and can actually do the work and try to put myself back together. Somehow, somehow, somehow. (It's the DID. Look at us go.)

And there's an endless tug-of-war between trying not to victim blame her, and... just being fucking honest. She's manipulative. She's poisoning the relationships a lot of us worked really hard to heal. No, it's not okay or normal to send us messages about how she's trying to remove some component of her car so she can fill it with exhaust. No, it's not okay to kick your widowed mother out with no notice after committing to living with her and we all pitched in around the clock to make it happen. No, it's not okay to turn around 8 weeks later and reverse course entirely, while trying to talk us into continuing to help pay for a 2 bedroom apartment all to yourself now, or whatever. No matter what happened to her, none of that is okay!

What's gutting me is how much my mom agreed with me, and how hard she's reversed course. I was honest weeks ago, explaining to her that my aunt has always done this -- and my mom... isn't not helping her, but is more invested in helping me. She helped me paint my room last weekend because the wall colours would trigger me so badly that I was dissociating and carving "fix it" into the paint, because they were the same colour as one of the rooms I was y'know, [redacted] in as a kid.

She's recommitted to helping me with therapy and showing up and not leaving me hanging for months. She plainly said that she does not want my aunt to interfere with my recovery, that she's spent HER whole life taking care of her younger sister like this, and can now see the toll it had on her own family/kids, and it's not okay.

I don't know what to do with this. I really don't. Mostly I feel guilty knowing a lot of people in my situation don't get that kind of help, too. My mom was mostly not around when I was a kid because she was in school and working full time -- we were living with this aunt, and my grandparents, so they more or less collectively ignored raised me. My mom truly had no idea about the abuse and trafficking, and has been so helpful this last year. I grew up bitter and angry at her, but a lot of the work early on in my trauma shit was realizing that I was (I am so ashamed to type this for some reason, even if it's kind of just facts) really just brainwashed by my dad's side of the family against her. It's complicated.

So, okay, right? My aunt is a lot, but it's something I spoke to my therapist about, he helped me with boundaries and encouraged me to focus on my own stuff, because my aunt is the sort of person who... no matter how many times you show up, it won't change her. You just keep showing up until you're drained, and she moves on to the next person.

My grandma, on the other fucking hand.

Couldn't be here 48 hours before she was sitting down and bringing up the kids I grew up with. The ones whose parents were also involved in the same trafficking rings. She has no idea; she will never have any idea. She is so, so insistent on seeing only the good in people that it has ruined this family, it feels like. She enabled her daughter's stalker. She defended my mom's rapist/my sister's biodad because there must have been some good in him (he fled the country on suspicion of murder and my sister is working with the RCMP about it, but never mind that part either). She continued to be friends with my stepdad after I told her what he'd done. She chided me for going no contact with my biodad because "he always gave such nice gifts."

She started talking about those kids, anyway. And about how one of them was just a Bad Kid, malicious and evil at 8 years old, or whatever. She would babysit the neighbourhood kids after school, so there were often a bunch of them over at our place. She was talking about how one afternoon someone turned the knobs on the barbecue outside, turning the gas on, and she almost lit a cigarette before smelling it and nearly blew herself up. Clearly on purpose!

My mom interjected to be like, that's just kids playing with knobs and things, and I cut in with... she was a really abused kid at home. She wasn't bad, her family was horrific, and I left it at that. And my grandma?

"Oh, but their house was always so clean, I can't believe that!"

Which mostly felt like I was smacked across the face, and I think Stephan fronted, because I heard myself say something like, "what the fuck does that have to do with anything?" and then it's a lot of fog.

My mom even pointed out how this friend would often have to borrow my pants because she wet herself so often, and how that was a sign of CSA, and it just didn't matter to my grandma. My friend was just "lazy."

Anyway, "It's just so unbelievable" there were so many "bad" kids on that block, what a coincidence! So weird how many of us are addicts now, or just dead, when she was friends with all our parents and they were all the greatest people! Haha, how does that happen!

And I saw in that moment just how impossible it would have been for me to ask for help, let alone get it. Nothing can be wrong around her. She needs the world to be perfect, hunky-dory, everyone is good, and it left so many of us wide open to abuse. My aunt included. Myself included. And I kind of see where my aunt developed her constant crisis mode, because only life or death will get through to my grandma -- and even then, not really.

Like. She has singlehandedly facilitated or enabled abuse of most of her family because she refuses to admit people can be bad (and there's the urge to be like... but she's like that for a reason, and deserves sympathy, and surely that means what she did is understandable, and etc.).

I just foresee myself spending a lot of the next 4 weeks in the basement avoiding all of this because we just started doing the real trauma work in therapy, we just started reconnecting with the rage and processing it, and it's like oh god no shove it all back in the box because our aunt said we have to so our grandma will be taken care of!

Fuck that. She can't make it down the stairs and I have a refuge in that. And my room is painted my favourite colours now, I never want to leave it anyway! (It's a very dark navy blue with deep turquoise on one wall.)

Just. It's a lot. It's a lot, a lot, a lot, and I keep compartmentalizing or forgetting why I'm so tired, and so at my wit's end, and none of these are even my problems to deal with in the first place. Maybe that's callous? Maybe not. But either way she sat on my couch, defended several of my traffickers while I tried to point out that they were in fact abusive people, and doubled down about it, and I really don't feel obligated to cater to that anymore!

I'm kind of really proud of myself for this one, actually? It has taken a LOT to get here.

#have i mentioned how fucking weird it is being both the most broken and most therapized person in this family #like my role here has very much been trying to help teach my family how to deal with my aunt #bc none of us have the resources left to do this for another 50 years #but they're listening and learning and taking it seriously? and i am so grateful for that!#but also wtf

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kyleyangs-a · 2 years

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. . . dependent original character for nightrestrp : KYLE YANG \

more links : pinterest. connections. playlist.

[ charles melton, cis man, he/him ] - was that KYLE YANG i saw by the lighthouse today? i heard that the THIRTY-ONE year old who has been in nightrest for HIS ENTIRE LIFE and works as a/an TRIDENT FITNESS OWNER has a reputation of being CHARMING, but also EGOTISTICAL. they reside in LOW POINT & people in town usually associate them with SARCASTIC NATURE THAT GETS HIM ON TOO MANY PEOPLE'S BAD SIDE, WAKING UP WITH NO RECOLLECTION OF THE NIGHT PRIOR, & OVERDUE BILLS SCATTERED ON HIS KITCHEN COUNTER. let’s hope the killer doesn’t go after them next.

BASIC INFORMATION:

FULL NAME: Kyle Jisung Yang

NICKNAMES: Kai

DATE OF BIRTH: April 1st, 1992 (30)

ETHNICITY: Korean and White

FACE CLAIM: Charles Melton

HAIR & EYE COLOR: Dark Brown

HEIGHT: 6’1"

TATTOOS & PIERCINGS: multiple tattoos, ear piercings

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: heterosexual

OCCUPATION: security for the royal yacht club

LANGUAGES SPOKEN: english, korean

BACKGROUND: [tw: abuse, parental death]

Born to a Korean father and a white mother, Kyle had a relatively normal upbringing for the first few years of his childhood. His mother was a housewife and his father worked as an office manager for a mid-sized company in Salem. When Kyle was 10, the company went bankrupt and his father lost his job, having to take a much lower-paying job to support his family, Kyle’s mother eventually getting a job as a receptionist to keep the family afloat. The loss of comfortable living left his father to drink frequently, his habits growing worse over the years as the family felt overworked, it not taking too long for his father to snap at him or his mother after a bad day.

When Kyle was 13, his mother got into a car accident on her way home from work, leaving her paralyzed from the waist down and unable to work. His father would grow more unhappy with their financial situation because of this, drowing in hospital bills ontop of other financial obligations. When Kyle was 14, his father hit him for the first time after he’d come home late from basketball practice. He’d continue to endure the abuse, figuring it was better him than his mom, though what he dealt with at home would greatly affect his school life.

Kyle had always been an honor roll student up until he started 10th grade. Great grades, and was a starter for the varsity basketball team, a big part of the reason that he was able to attend Wardwell on a scholarship. But dealing with his father made him act out, getting into fights at school, slacking off in his studies, and going out to parties, staying out late. He went from the top of his class to an average student just getting by and went from someone who could have had a career in basketball to someone who was seen as a risk to any reputable program. During his senior year of high school, his mother passed away, leaving him alone with his father and no reason to put up with it anymore. He packed his bags, hopping between friends' houses for the remainder of the school year. He worked at Mama’s to cover rent in a place in Fog Gate, eventually becoming a security guard for the Yacht Club and saving up enough to get a place in Low Point. After the death of his best friend during the Gala Massacre, he took over ownership of Trident Fitness.

HEADCANONS

kind of a dick (very much a dick). doesn’t take anything around him seriously anymore and isn’t exactly the most caring person to most, but those who he does like have a friend for life. he’s very protective over those he actually does care about and would do anything for them

goes through relationships like candy. settling down is boring. has maybe had a handful of meaningful relationships but he usually just goes for girls for the sex

has a cat. he loves his cat. it’s name is also cat because he couldn’t think of a name

definitely not in touch with his culture. knows basic korean from visiting a few times when he was a kid, but can't really make any food (his mom mainly cooked growing up)

has a bunch of tattoos, plans to get a full sleeve. kind of just gets whatever he’s feeling, some have meaning and others dont

is so very irresponsible. has almost been evicted like four times because he just forgets to pay his rent. he’s been surviving on his own since he was 17, but he just forgets the simple stuff. really not good with dates as well.

used to be a very, very good basketball player. had his life not went to shit, he definitely would’ve had a college career at least. his record in school made him a liability, and cost him getting any scholarships, so he’s been in town his whole life

party guy, or at least used to be. went out a lot during his 20s, mostly because he was young and alone and going clubbing or drinking was a nice break from work.

works at the yacht club as a security guard. he’s pretty charming, especially with the older women, and has definitely flirted around for an extra buck. he’s probably even slept with a few of the hotter ones.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

best friend (1/2)

friends

ex-girlfriends

childhood friends

hookups/flings

friends with benefits

frenemies

umm literally anything

#nightrest:intro #kyle / about #this sucks but whatever u know

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the-firebird69 · 7 months

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There's a few things you want to know these African Americans who are Corinne and others who are gifted don't want our son to have any money at all until their program is ready so they're all going around trying to get rid of people they heard about the big diamonds and they're encouraging people to go down there their own people are pulling them but we need them to go down there

-and it makes sense that he would be doing it because of Ronald beiruti has done it before with the firebird as a symbol and you were supposed to come up and land on the sand and he thinks it worked to a degree. But he feels it's his code and that's what he's up to the real question is how and why he would do it. Well we considered is he's losing the stashes and casters out west cannot condemn him he cannot kidnap him and it's just messing up everything and he says he figured it out but he says he would take him West and try for the Midwest when in fact he wants to try for the diamonds and yeah but he wants to try to go to the Midwest thinking we're there my son doesn't have money for the insurance or for driving around or for maintenance it costs a lot of money and is going bankrupt and his rent was half of what it is now and we are watching the Russians joining up with the Americans on the ISS on the news and the movie will begin shortly and he thinks it's tonight but no it's daytime where they are and it's towards the afternoon and it's coming up soon and he will begin to try and move our son and he will notice that it's impossible.

Like we said it's done it with several cars most of them. And he suspects Giants are down below and wants to take over top side to threaten for it this is real game.

-how he's going to do this and her son says he's going to describe himself as a Volkswagen bus his face will look like it he said at that point he'd have to have a prosthetic. And then he starts to do the social security money but there's a curiosity how's he going to get the car there if he himself is alive and in the way.

Thor Freya

So is pretend it's a mob guy and he's talking to me when I was the mob guy and he's saying that some guy in the way I'm getting the car there and then I'm the one who wants it there and I said yes and since we have to whack you I said what he said whack you and I said who you you're that guy in the way I said I might be you don't have to whack me so Dan and him are trying to think and Terry cheeseman said we have to walk you to get him the car cuz you're in the way and you keep saying you're in the way. Don't like the guy wants the car it's just this guy is in the way. So you started laughing and he said I'm not in the way or maybe it's that little guy who doesn't want to be in the little car that's what he said I said I'll check on that what are you doing trying to whack yourself that'll be out of the way though I don't really need the car so you can hang on.. I got a little confused and said I'm the one sending the car so I don't think you can do that while you're alive you're going to have to whack yourself. So I smiled and said I think he's right

.. alternative I said don't do that I realize something it seems like this is what it is that was down in Australia driving around a white scirocco and bja is saying it's going to hit me so I figured out something we think that black scirocco was BJ's car someone was saying to hit it with his people only think it's us because we chased Kelly out of the party Kevin was asking for his marijuana back we went into the room and took it and when they said how'd you get in the room and management said they broke in so they didn't care everybody got in trouble and the cops found us said you took his marijuana and it's not the other guys and you made him have an accident so hear him saying can I sue or something I said we are smoking marijuana and said no I don't smoke marijuana and we're drinking on her own time and I was not under the influence so they said this he's not smoking marijuana and you're in trouble this is the no marijuana era for Zeus and they said good he's saying it's him he said oh no we have to arrest you. And they went ahead and arrested them that was us and we said someone sending code some people figured it out what I'm saying is how am I supposed to send this car if I'm alive and he's not really enthroned with it doesn't have any money to driving around let's just kind of sit here and we're starting to see why so I thought about it and I thought it was testing out him being in the golf and I figured out something this kind of sucks it's like what I did before and I do need to go west and he doesn't have enough money to buy all the stuff clothing granted he could and really a lot of it needs to be replaced but it's hard to get some things and ebikes are number one now he has to have a trailer that's all a flagrant nightmare and I do need them out west I'm going to try other stuff probably until it's too late and in the revolutionary war we had most of the armament and the man did a large portion of the attack so yeah we're planning on doing it right I'm going to sit here and dick around with things and probably lose a big chunk of the stuff he says it too it's probably true

Trump

We know what he does he sits here and messes around with you doesn't want to do the car thing and it ruins most of what he's trying

Thor Freya

Good

Zues Hera

We like it but it's a pain in the ass but that's what he's doing

Olympus

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kyleyangs · 1 year

Text

. . . dependent original character for nightrestrp : KYLE YANG \

more links : pinterest. connections. playlist.

BASIC INFORMATION:

FULL NAME: Kyle Jisung Yang

NICKNAMES: Kai

DATE OF BIRTH: April 1st, 1992 (30)

ETHNICITY: Korean and White

FACE CLAIM: Charles Melton

HAIR & EYE COLOR: Dark Brown

HEIGHT: 6’1"

TATTOOS & PIERCINGS: multiple tattoos, ear piercings

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: heterosexual

OCCUPATION: security for the royal yacht club

LANGUAGES SPOKEN: english, korean

BACKGROUND: [tw: abuse, parental death]

HEADCANONS

goes through relationships like candy. settling down is boring. has maybe had a handful of meaningful relationships but he usually just goes for girls for the sex

has a cat. he loves his cat. it’s name is also cat because he couldn’t think of a name

definitely not in touch with his culture. knows basic korean from visiting a few times when he was a kid, but can't really make any food (his mom mainly cooked growing up)

has a bunch of tattoos, plans to get a full sleeve. kind of just gets whatever he’s feeling, some have meaning and others dont

party guy, or at least used to be. went out a lot during his 20s, mostly because he was young and alone and going clubbing or drinking was a nice break from work.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

best friend (2/2)

friends

ex-girlfriends

childhood friends

hookups/flings

friends with benefits

frenemies

umm literally anything

#nightrest:intro #kyle / about

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aceofspadegrass · 3 years

Text

It's Raining

Characters: Aguni Morizono, Hatter, Tatta Koudai, Arisu Ryohei, Last Boss, Niragi Suguru, Chishiya Shuntaro

Genre: Fluff. Just a thunderstorm, some vibes, and uh.... Monopoly. Briefly.

1.6k words

Man, writing with absolute zero idea of where I was going with it is.... interesting. My only thought was rainstorm, and here's what happened.

Rain pattered against the window, Aguni watching the raindrops fall down the glass with a cup of steaming hot coffee in hand. Takeru was still in bed, sleeping off the spaghetti and red wine they shared last night, half a cookie hanging out of his mouth. Aguni takes a long, slow sip of his coffee, making sure to blow on it beforehand. He didn’t need to burn his mouth after all. He grunts lightly, going over today’s schedule over his head. The rain looked bad, so he couldn’t go out today, nor could anybody else. It might be bad enough for a power outage, Aguni notes internally.

He heads outside and through the halls. The rain was loud even here, but the sound of yelling was louder, cheers and screams coming from Arisu’s room. Aguni peeks inside just to see what was up, after knocking on the door to notify he was coming inside. He blinks as he stares at Niragi, Tatta, and Arisu all sitting in the dark in front of the television, playing some racing game, Arisu firmly in first place with Niragi and Tatta fighting for second just behind him. Niragi and Arisu were more absorbed in the game, Niragi the main source of all the yelling, using Arisu’s blanketed head as an arm rest, the tallest out of all of them sitting on the barren bed while the other two took space on the floor. Tatta seemed less focused at least, although he doesn’t stop playing even as he greets Aguni.

“ Hi! Did you need something?”

“ Uh… just checking up. It’s raining pretty badly. Just be aware there may be a power outage if it gets worse.”

Tatta nods, Niragi grumbling angrily as Tatta hits him with a red shell in the game. “ Okay!” Tatta chirps, Aguni nodding and shutting the door just as Arisu wins the race with an excited cheer, Niragi griping loudly and falling backwards on the bed. Aguni continues down the hall and goes to check up on Chishiya to tell him about the possible outage.

But he couldn’t, as Chishiya was still sleeping, curled up in his chair and a blanket thrown over him, likely from Tatta or Arisu actually caring. Aguni leaves him alone, shutting the door. Chishiya was smart enough to infer on his own when he wakes up. He continues through the house, occasionally taking a sip of coffee as he searches for the last member of the household.

Aguni knocks on Last Boss’ door, and receives absolutely zero response, but Aguni opens anyways. Last Boss was sitting there on the ground with his computer, looking up at Aguni blankly in the dark.

“ Hey. It’s raining pretty badly so be warned.” Aguni tells him, and looks at the ground, sighing at the mess. “ And clean up your room eventually, okay?” He looks back at Last Boss, who says absolutely nothing, continuing to stare blankly at him. Aguni stares back until Last Boss breaks eye contact, going back to typing on his computer without a hint of giving a fuck. He shut the door and makes his way down to the kitchen, drinking more coffee and listening to the rain patter against the windows louder than before. He settles himself with heating up some leftovers, watching the plate spin in the microwave as he sips at his coffee.

The microwave beeps, seconds before Aguni hears thunder pounding outside. Several, in fact. It nearly shakes the house with how loud it was, and Aguni swears he can hear Niragi cursing in Arisu’s room. Aguni pulls out his leftovers and takes a seat at the dining table, just as the lights begin to flicker. Aguni takes a long, slow sip of coffee and sets down his mug, poking at a piece of fish as the lights finally die on him.

Not long after, Aguni hears footsteps, and he look up through the dark as three figures approach, Niragi loudly grumbling and heading straight for the cabinets to look for a torch. Tatta and Arisu both stand there as Niragi rustles through the drawers, Aguni eating silently as Niragi slams open and close drawers. Arisu still had the blanket over his head, which he had wrapped around him so it was basically just a blanket with a face and legs.

“ Where’s the fucking flashlight-“ Niragi grumbles, even opening the medicine cabinet. It is followed by both Arisu and Tatta shrugging and offering nothing useful, Niragi continuing to search and yielding nothing. Aguni gets up only when Niragi tries the same drawer in the past five minutes, getting up and opening the fridge, which also lost its power. He digs inside, Niragi pausing to watch Aguni in pure and utter confusion as Aguni pulls out a flashlight and sets it on the counter by Niragi, shutting the fridge and going back to the table to continue eating. “ Wh-“ Niragi stammers, looking between the flashlight and the fridge. “ Why the hell was it in the fridge-“

Aguni wished he had a sane answer. But nothing was sane about the fridgelight. He finished his coffee and sets the mug down, looking to Niragi. “ Takeru thought it’d be funny.” He explains, Niragi looking at Aguni, eyes furrowed a little and frowning.

“ Why the fuck would-“ Niragi cuts himself off, picking up the flashlight and turning it on, nearly blinding Tatta. “ Whatever. This’ll do. What, do we not have a backup generator?”

“ We used to, but rats got to the wires so we were waiting on someone to come fix it!” Tatta explains, covering his eyes with his hand as Niragi turns the bright beam at his face.

“ Aren’t you a mechanic?”

“ For cars, mostly! Also I tried, but turns out the rats got a lot of the wires all messed up. And uhhhhh….. I might have forgotten to go buy new wires. Or a new generator.”

“ You’re useless.” Niragi mutters, Tatta frowning a little.

“ Rude…. But it’ll be fine until the storm passes by, right?” Tatta looks to Aguni for confirmation, Aguni giving him a brief nod. Tatta smiles, looking back at Niragi. “ See?” “ Fine. Would’ve been nice to have electricity. I’m gonna grab candles. It’s dark as shit in here.” Niragi grumbles, and he stalks away with the flashlight, Arisu and Tatta following behind to help. Aguni stays at the table to finish his meal, existing in his own time.

A few minutes later Niragi comes back and slaps a candle on the table in front of him, already lit. “ There. Have fun with your romantic dinner for one.” Niragi quips, then quickly walks away, Aguni thanking him under his breath and taking another bite of food.

Takeru comes outside as Aguni dumps his trash, holding his phone as a flashlight, heading straight for Aguni and draping himself over the man’s back.

“ Man, it’s so loud….. You doing okay?” Takeru mumbles into Aguni’s shoulder, apparently still very tired, Aguni nodding. Takeru hums, the two standing there in the candlelit kitchen as the rain battered against the house for a while. Takeru only lets go when Aguni starts to move away, arms dropping to the side as Aguni sits down at the table again, his face illuminated by the small faint candlelight. Takeru opens the lightless fridge, the sound of things moving around barely discernible from the loud patter. He pulls out something and shuts the door, coming over to sit across Aguni. In his hand seemed to be a glass bottle, Takeru twisting off the top and taking a sip.

Aguni watches him drink for a while, Takeru draining at least half of the bottle in one go before letting off, satisfyingly breathing out and wiping his mouth with the back off his hand. The house shakes as thunder rumbles outside, Takeru smiling and yawning. “ It’s rough outside, eh? I woke up to that first one but didn’t feel like getting out of bed.” Aguni grunts in response, Hatter nodding to himself. “ Yes, yes. Ah, is the generator still not working?” Aguni shakes his head, explaining the rat situation, Hatter slowly nodding. He finishes the rest of the bottle, letting it hit the table with a decent thunk, sighing and leaning back. “ No reason to sit around and do nothing. Wanna play Monopoly with the kids?”

“ And have to wrestle Chishiya away from stabbing Niragi in the knees again with a toothpick?”

Takeru only shrugs, getting up and walking away. “ What can go wrong this time? Monopoly night! Come on everyone!”

Aguni sighs, getting up and heading over to grab the Monopoly board. He wasn’t paying for the damages.

[AN HOUR LATER….]

Aguni keeps a hold of Niragi’s torso as he attempts (and fails) to reach Tatta, who was hiding behind the blanket blob that was Arisu, who somehow acquired everyone’s blanket in the timeframe he’s been by the board, Chishiya leaning against said blob and smirking at Niragi.

“ I’m gonna tear your fucking face off, you fucking whale shark!”

“ I’m sorry! It’s just a railroad!”

Aguni glances at Takeru, who just smiles and watches, with eyes that were void of any thought in his head. He wasn’t even feeling the slightest bit worried, was he. Aguni sighs, and forcefully pulls Niragi up and lifts him over his shoulder, Niragi trying (and still failing) to get free and attack Tatta.

Aguni much rather would have just sat around and do nothing. Maybe lay in bed with Takeru and talk about life and such.

But no, instead he gets this today, Niragi finally giving up as Aguni dumps him in the time out corner and walks away back to the scene, only to see Tatta having to pay the last of his money to a smug Chishiya. “ Aww, I’m bankrupt.”

“ Should’ve thought about that before having money.” Thunder clapped just as he finished that, Tatta yelping.

“ Ooh, that was a good one!” Takeru chirps, “ Real suspenseful!”

“ Thanks, it wasn’t my intention….. Or was it.”

#aib #alice in borderland #aib fanfic #alice in borderland fanfic #aguni morizono #hatter #takeru danma #tatta kodai #arisu ryohei #niragi suguru #chishiya shuntaro #last boss #takatora samura #mmmmmm rain-#yeah this is the same universe as the vacation things #hatter + aguni and their sons #all of them

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dream-of-kpop · 3 years

Text

TXT is Normal Like You (sort of)

•ok, i bop to the songs but idk shit about txt. i thought it would be interesting to make a story on a group i know nothing about and see if i'm accurate or not.•

*Soobin dances in a circle with the guys at a club*

Soobin: *sticks his tongue out while bodyrolling* "Ayeee lean back, aye lean back-"

*Heuningkai tries to grind on him*

Soobin: "HOMESLICE, BACK UP."

DJ: *speaks into the mic* "Are y'all ready for the next one?!?!"

*the crowd screams chaotically "YEAHHHHHH!!!!"*

*21st Century Girl by BTS starts playing*

Soobin: "FUCKKKKKKK THIS IS MY SONGGGGGGGG!!!" *starts jumping up and down*

*Taehyun takes 2 shots at once and starts dancing along to the beat*

Heuningkai: "ISN'T OUR BILL GONNA BE SUPER HIGH??"

Taehyun: "WHO CARES? WE CAN PAY IT!!!"

*the rest of the night is a blur until they get back to their penthouse around 2am*

Yeonjun: *jumps up and down* "HURRY UP I GOTTA PEE-"

Taehyun: "WAIT!" *turns the key and unlocks the door after multiple tries*

*Soobin breaks for the bathroom closest to them, shutting the door behind him*

Yeonjun: *pounds on the door* "OMG I'M GONNA EXPLODE WTF DUDE!!" *runs*

*the others drunkenly head to their rooms to sleep off their hangovers*

*as Soobin vomits into the toilet bowl, suddenly the door bursts open with his mom entering the bathroom*

Soobin's mom: "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS???"

Soobin: *retches into the toilet bowl* "Mom?...What are you doing here?"

Soobin's mom: "I STILL HAVE THE KEY. STAND UP."

*Soobin drowsily tries to bring himself up off of the floor*

*his mom slaps him upside the head, instantly waking him up*

Soobin's mom: "HOW DO YOU SPENT 1.2 MILLION DOLLARS IN 2 MONTHS???"

Soobin: "WHY DID YOU HIT ME???"

Soobin's mom: "ANSWER THE QUESTION."

Soobin: "I DONT KNOW. WE WERE JUST TRYING TO ENJOY THE MONEY WE GOT FROM TXT...YOU KNOW SINCE HYBE(Bighit) WENT BANKRUPT!"

*his mom hits him upside the head 3 more times, repeatedly*

Soobin: "MOM STOP-"

Soobin's mom: "YOU'RE MOVING BACK IN WITH ME. SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR FRIENDS."

Soobin: *gags* "Wait." *gags* "Ok, it went back down- I DON'T WANNA LIVE WITH YOU-"

*his mom cuts her eyes at him*

Soobin: "I mean...because I'm an adult and I can handle my own business..."

Soobin's mom: "YOUR MONEY IS MY BUSINESS NOW. BE PACKED UP BY THE END OF TOMORROW..." *she leaves hastily*

*the next morning the boys are awaken by loud noises of Soobin putting stuff into boxes*

Taehyun: *sleepy* "Woah woah, what's going on?"

Heuningkai: "Aye, are we moving to a bigger space?"

Soobin: "No...my mom is pissed we're spending a lot of money and wants me to move back in with her."

*the boys gasp*

Soobin: "I know."

Taehyun: "We're good on money though."

Soobin: "I mean. I see her point but it's our money you know?"

Yeonjun: "Yeah! So what if we spend like $20k on a shopping haul at Polo? Or $1k at Chipotle so we can be healthy?"

Soobin: "I know right? HYBE is gonna come back eventually...right?"

Yeonjun: "Dunno. I heard Pdnim had to sell his beach house."

*they all gasp yet again*

Beomgyu: "Omg that's awful..."

Heuningkai: "I would literally cry if I had to sell my jet ski...No I would cry if I had to sell my yacht...Wait no..."

Soobin: "Anyways, do you guys mind helping me?"

Yeonjun: "Absolutely not. I almost pissed myself last night because of you."

Soobin: "You should've used the bathroom at the club then."

Yeonjun: "My ass and dick are not touching a public toilet seat or urinal. You can miss me with that..."

*Soobin shakes his head as he puts some books into one of the boxes*

Taehyun: "So, is there really nothing we can do? I mean I can call a moving company for you?"

Beomgyu: "Shouldn't we convince his mom to let him stay?"

Soobin: "There's no point. She's already made up her mind."

Hueningkai: "THIS SUCKS- We already RSVP'd to Blackbear's party next week bruh, so what are we supposed to do??"

*they hear the front door unlock; Soobin's mom enters calmly*

Soobin's mom: "Are you almost done?"

Soobin: "No, I still have a lot of stuff to get through..."

Soobin's mom: "You wouldn't have this much stuff if you didn't spend your money like a maniac..."

*Soobin holds his tongue trying not to backtalk her*

Beomgyu: "Uh, listen here Mrs. Soobin's mom, uh we want to say that you can't control Soobin anymore. It's his money and he can do whatever he wants. You know, respectfully."

Soobin's mom: *scowls at Beomgyu* "Get in the car Soobin."

Soobin: "No. I am grown, with my own money and priorities in life. You cannot control me...Mommy."

Taehyun: "Uh..."

Soobin's mom: "Get. In. The. Car."

Soobin: "No!"

*the vibe of the room turns very tense*

Soobin: "They're like my brothers mom...We want to stay true to our old group name...Tomorrow by Together..."

Soobin's mom: *crosses her arms* "So you're telling me you're gonna live together even in your 40s to stay true to 'TXT'?"

Yeonjun: "I wouldn't mind it."

Heuningkai: "Yeah it's fun getting drunk with them."

Soobin's mom: "Fine, whatever. If you guys want to go broke, do that, but don't come crying to me for a place to live."

Soobin: *jumps up and down and hugs his mom* "DON'T WORRY, I WON'T!!!"

Soobin's mom: *lets go of Soobin* "Alright, I'm leaving..."

Soobin: "LOVE YOU MOM!"

Soobin's mom: "Yeah yeah..." *leaves*

Taehyun: "Ayeee, we gucci?"

Soobin: *beaming* "Hell yeah we are~ So...y'all gonna help me unpack?"

TXT: "..."

Soobin: "Fine then."

[3 months later]

*the 5 dance in a circle on the dance floor at the same nightclub*

Taehyun: "AYEEEEEE!!!!!"

Yeonjun: *hits Tae's arm multiple times to get his attention* "WE GOTTA GO! I NEED TO PEE!"

Taehyun: "TOO BAD- GO TO THE BATHROOM!"

Yeonjun: "YOU KNOW I CAN'T GO IN THERE!!"

*Taehyun ignores him and goes back to dancing*

Yeonjun: "SHIT FORGET IT-" *runs off*

Soobin: "GUYS I'M GOING TO GET DRINKS-"

Heuningkai: "BRING US BACK SOME JELLO SHOTS!"

*Soobin walks up to the overcrowded bar to order drinks*

*after receiving the drinks, Soobin hands the bartender his card*

Bartender: "SORRY DUDE IT'S DECLINING!"

Soobin: "WHAT??" *hands him another card*

*it rejects*

Soobin: "HANG ON A SECOND PLEASE-"

*runs over to Taehyun, Kai, and Beomgyu to beg them for their cards*

Beomgyu: *stops dancing* "IT'S DECLINING??"

Soobin: "YEAH MAYBE IT'S JUST MY CARD ACTING WEIRD!"

*the boys hand Soo their cards and he runs back to the bar*

*all of them declining*

Soobin: "Omg no...No...CAN YOU GIVE ME ONE MORE SECOND PLEASE??"

Bartender: "GO AHEAD!"

*Soobin runs back to his group*

Soobin: "THEY ALL FUCKING DECLINED GUYS WE'RE SCREWED!"

Heuningkai: "WHAT ABOUT YEONJUN??"

Soobin: "SHIT YOU'RE RIGHT. WHERE IS HE??"

Taehyun: "DUNNO, PROBABLY PEEING SOMEWHERE. LET'S GO FIND HIM."

*after running around the club for 10 minutes, there is still no sight of Yeonjun so they go outside*

Soobin: "WHERE IS THIS FOOL AT???"

Yeonjun: *appears beside them* "Hey."

Taehyun: "Where were you???"

Yeonjun: "I gave up. I went across the street to pee at Starbucks."

Heuningkai: "That's very brave of you."

Soobin: "YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, DUDE CAN I USE YOUR CARD?? ALL OF OUR CARDS ARE DECLINING!!"

Yeonjun: "No worries, mine is too. They seriously tried to force me to buy something so I could use the bathroom but my card declined hehe. Whoops."

Beomgyu: "AHHHHHHHHHH SO WE'RE BROKE????"

Yeonjun: "Yeah I checked my account, $10."

Soobin: "Uh, hang on guys I'll be right back..."*walks away from the guys*

*dials his mom's number then starts crying the moment she picks up*

Soobin's mom: "Hey how-"

Soobin: "EOMMAAAAAAAA, MY CARDS DECLINEDDDDDDD!!!!!" *sobs*

hyungwonthefraud

the formatting looks crazy-

#source: dream-of-kpop #txt #kpop au #txt au #txt beomgyu #txt heuningkai #txt soobin #txt taehyun #txt yeonjun #txt imagines #kpop imagines #txt scenarios #kpop scenarios #txt reactions #kpop reactions #txt oneshots #kpop oneshots #kpop funny #txt funny

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unlocktxt · 4 years

Text

more than just a memory | c.s.b

Choi Soobin

❦ genre: angst, fluff, ghost soobin!au, soobin x reader

❦ description: moving into your new house, you expected to be met with peace and quiet, but everything doesn’t seem to go according to plan when your met with a tall lonely ghost named soobin.

❦ word count: 5.6k

❦ warning‼️: this includes/mentions death, loss, heartbreak, afterlife, and swearing

The burning sun could be felt on your skin, tanning it as you ran down the never ending street. You checked your digital watch to see that you were now five minutes late to your moving in get together. Your absence would be evident to your close family and friends. The thought of your parents nagging about your tardiness only motivated you to move faster. You were running so fast that you just barely managed to dodge an old woman and her barking chihuahua. “Watch where you’re going before you kill someone’s dog!” You didn’t have to look at her to know that she was pointing her angry accusing finger at you. “Sorry miss!” You quickly turned the corner, finally on your street. You were relieved to know that the old woman wasn’t your neighbor. With the house in your sights you ran even faster, those years spent in track finally paying off. Practically feeling like a cheetah, it was hard for you to stop yourself as you approached the house. Trying to slow down was a useless attempt as you tripped. The stupid rock causing you to fly forward, foot hurting like a bitch. Your reflexes didn’t seem to be enough, but they still managed to get you to crash into the parked car, rather than the pavement. As if things couldn’t get any worse, the car alarm started blaring. At that moment, you were willing to dismantle that moving money eater. The car alarm suddenly stopped, causing you to face the small group of people on the porch. Well shit. Waving with a big smile on your face, you fought the urge to laugh at yourself and feigned innocent. This clearly didn’t work because when you made eye contact with your parents, you could practically feel the disappointment. Good thing you have your own house now.

You made your way over to your favorite people, still out of breath from running. “Hi guys! So sorry I’m late. I uh... I had to go help this elderly woman catch her chihuahua that got loose.” You decided against telling them that you managed to get lost walking around the many, many blocks. Nodding your head in satisfaction, you thanked the old woman and her dog for saving you from the wrath of your parents. The only person who didn’t seem to fall for this was your friend, Taehyun, who shook his head in disapproval, although you knew he found it funny. “Let’s get this party started!” You ushered everyone inside as you made your way over to Taehyun and Beomgyu. “Okay so what the hell were you actually doing?” Taehyun raised an eyebrow at you, basically staring you down. You let out a sigh, knowing they would make fun of you. “I went out for a walk because I got spooked... and then I got lost.” Beomgyu immediately started laughing. “You- You got lost in your own neighborhood!” He couldn’t help his laughter, you were just too oblivious of your surroundings. Taehyun, who actually listened carefully, had more questions. “So why did you get scared in the first place?” Taehyun seemed interested in what you had to say, giving you the confidence you needed. “Well... the house is always kind of cold you know... and they say it could be because it’s haunted. I didn’t really mind it, but I swear I saw a reflection in the mirror.” You shivered just thinking about it. This caused Beomgyu to look around with wide eyes. “No way... your house is haunted!” Beomgyu shouted, causing Taehyun to put his hand over the loud man’s mouth. “She probably just isn’t used to being home alone, so she got paranoid.” Taehyun shrugged. To be fair... it does sound more reasonable, however, you could’ve sworn you saw a tall figure staring at you. Then again it only lasted for a split second. “Your parents brought cake, come on.” Taehyun got us back on track, but not before Beomgyu mouthed we should totally go ghost hunting. Ignoring the heavy feeling on your chest, you followed after them. What couldn’t be seen, was how Soobin lit up. So she did see me, he thought. After months of having an empty feeling, he finally felt something. Hope. He now made it his mission to get your oblivious self to notice him.

“I can’t believe our child is all grown up now.” Your mom’s eyes glossed over as she looked at you. “Mom don’t cry,” you chuckled at her pouty face, “you’re acting like I’m never going to visit you.” Shaking your head, you realized that you were going to be all alone in this house. Like a slap to the face, the thought of having to be completely independent hit you. The sudden realization scared you, but you knew it was about time to grow up. “I think that you’re still our little one, after all I’ll just be glad you don’t burn the house down.” Your dad’s joke had everyone laughing, they all knew how much he wanted to see you everyday. The memories of your childhood seemed to flash through your mind - the time your dad would always set you on the tree until you were able to climb up it just like him- or the time your mom chased you around the yard, trying to tickle your small self. These are the memories you would cling onto for the rest of your life. “I’m not that bad of a cook!” Sure you had caught noodles on fire, but that was like three years ago. You’ve improved since then, or so you thought. “There’s a reason no one asks you to cook.” Your mom admitted, to which you puffed your cheeks. You were being called out and your friends just nodded in agreement. The ultimate betrayal. “Then it’s a good thing I had you to take care of me. I probably picked up a few of your tricks.” Key word probably.

Your parents weren’t going to stay long, that way you and your friends could have some fun. Just when you turned to walk your parents to the door, the plastic cup moved an inch. Soobin, who had moved it, quickly turned to look at you with a big, proud smile. “I just did that!” He was excited about his achievement that took ten minutes to pull off, but as he looked at your back facing him, his face fell. “You have got to be kidding me.” The poor invisible Soobin really wanted to take out his frustration, but as his fist went to collide with the wooden table, it went straight through. An exasperating sigh came from Soobin as he moved onto plan b. Having not seen this, you waved your parents goodbye, slowly closing the door before turning to your two friends. “I call the dog!” Beomgyu ran to the monopoly board that Taehyun set up, diving for the little piece. You happily scurried over to your friends as you grabbed the shoe before Taehyun could. “Oh I’m definitely going to make you go bankrupt for that one.” Taehyun grabbed the car, sending glares. From past experiences, the three of you decided to put away the hammers and any potential weapon. Rolling the dice to see who’s first, you punched the air as you rolled a 6, higher than the two of them combined. As you did so you could’ve sworn your hand brushed against something cold, but maybe it was just the air conditioning. Soobin, sitting directly beside you, jumped as a result of your fist going straight through him. Was monopoly really this exciting, Soobin wondered, now wanting to play along. The three of you, not noticing the ghost boy, started the game with you rolling the dice. Your game face was now on. You decided to buy the first property you landed on. Taehyun went next, landing on the same color, his face told you that he wasn’t planning on letting you go that easily. “Don’t you dare buy that property!” You wanted all of the greens, but Taehyun wasn’t letting you have that chance as he bought the property. “Fine then... I’ll just make you go bankrupt.” You were now going to make them pay.

When the game ended you felt defeated. The look on Taehyuns face scared you. He truly was the monopoly master. “I can’t believe you took all of my money.” Beomgyu whined. It was now eleven at night, the game had lasted a while. “We should probably get going.” Taehyun said as he grabbed his stuff, taking a slice of cake with him. “Okay be safe on the way home.” You walked them to the door, waving their car goodbye.

Sighing, you couldn’t help but notice how chilly it was in the house. “Does the thermostat even work?” After messing with it a bit, you decided to just get a blanket, however, as you leaned over to grab one you met eyes with a man who looked similar to a bunny. “Get out before I call the cops!” You turned around quickly as you ran to the kitchen, grabbing a knife. You could tell he was caught off guard as his eyes seemed to enlarge. He definitely wasn’t very good at whatever he’s doing. As you turned on your phone, he seemed to get the gist. He came running at you, panicking. You were terrified and did the first thing you could think of- stab him. Your hands shook as your eyes trembled, you didn’t know what to do, but you did know you were terrified. Your hand and knife just went straight through him. Now that Soobin knew you could see him, he put all his energy into taking your phone. You were stuck in shock at what was happening. When you finally gained enough sense to move, you backed up. “P-please don’t kill me!” You were helpless against an invincible man.

Soobin knew he shouldn’t scare you, but he wanted to have some fun before reassuring you, after all... he used to joke about haunting people. He slowly approached your cowering figure, trapping you against the wall with his body. His arms were placed beside your head and he stared, you didn’t have anywhere to go. This is when you got this brilliant idea, if the knife could go straight through him maybe you could too! His face was a little too close for comfort, so you quickly tried to catch him off guard and lean forward, however, when you expected your face to fall right through him, you ended up meeting with something hard. Not only did this shock you, but also Soobin. He did not expect you to lean in and kiss him... the warmth of your lips sparking a fire within him. You were now highly embarrassed on top of fearing for your life. “I... I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! You know I just thought that I would go right through you... but that didn’t work. Please don’t kill me... just tell me what you want!” You rambled trying to get him to spare your life. Soobin had just gotten over the shock, now enjoying your flustered state. He smirked as he leaned closer, “Maybe another kiss.” That surely was not what you expected. Is that really what he wanted... or was it a trick? The tall black haired boy started laughing as he backed away from you. You were confused, but relieved as you finally let out the breath you were holding.

“I actually want you to help me see my friends and family. You see... you’ve probably already guessed, but I’m a ghost and I’d like to say goodbye to them one last time.” His whole demeanor had changed and you were now looking at a very cute guy. You opened your mouth to speak, but he continued. “My names Soobin. I actually used to live here or well... still kind of do. Surprise you have a dead roommate because I can’t seem to leave the house.” This was not normal... at all. When you decided to live here, you didn’t think it was haunted. “May I ask when you died?” You couldn’t help yourself, you were curious. Besides if you were going to help him then you’d need to know if these people were still alive. The humor he had before seemed to be a mask because once you asked this he had a distant look on his face. “If I remember correctly it was three months ago.” Something seemed to hit you, now looking at him you felt pity towards the ghost. You don’t know if you would’ve had a different reaction had he said something else, but you were now fighting the urge to cry due to his tragic situation. He was alone for three months, knowing that his loved ones were in pain missing him. The lump in your throat formed, “why don’t we sit down?” You grabbed his hand, almost retracting yours from the ice cold feeling. When you looked up at him, your eyes seemed like a mirror, reflecting the light as a burning feeling reached your nose. Don’t cry, you reminded yourself. Soobin, who had longed for the warm feeling, unconsciously tightened his grip on your hand as he moved closer. Noticing this warmed your heart, it relieved you that he seemed to enjoy your contrasting temperature. You wanted to give him the warmth he needed, so you placed another hand on his. The two of you smiled at each other before heading to the living room. His smile contained so much kindness, you wish you knew him before he had passed away.

Soobin had talked on and on about his plan to get his friends and parents here. You could tell he was excited and thought a lot about how to this this, however, it didn’t seem that he thought of the consequences. It was a wholesome plan, but you just didn’t think it would work out. Although his plan wasn’t all that great, you knew that the reason he couldn’t find peace was because he didn’t get to say goodbye. You had to compromise. “Soobin,” you took a deep breath before looking him in the eyes, “I don’t think telling your loved ones that you’re a ghost is a good idea.” You were met with Soobin’s confusion. “Well they obviously won’t believe you at first, but that’s where I come-”

“No Soobin... I don’t think they should know that you’re still somewhat on this earth.” The hurt on his face tore you to shreds, he felt betrayed. “And why not? I thought you were going to help me.” Soobin released his grip on your hands, confusion turning into anger. His narrowed eyes were locked on you. “I still want to help you Soobin... it’s just... they have been adjusting to your death for three months. In other words, they are three months into grieving.” You hoped he would understand as you reached for his hand. Soobin’s pale face tensed up as he pulled his hand further away. “As if you would know. My parents need to know that I’m okay! You don’t know what it’s like, so keep your shitty opinion to yourself. If you won’t help me then I’ll figure out another way.” Venom was laced in his voice and you noticed he seemed to be going in and out of transparency. You stayed calm, “I could never know what you’re going through, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help. We can think of another way. By telling them you’re a ghost, you’d be giving them hope to be with you again. They’d have to lose you all over again, who knows what could happen to you as a ghost. I’m sure it would hurt them to know that this whole time you were alone and not in a better place.” You hadn’t looked away from Soobin, so you were able to see his expression change. His furrowed brows seemed to drop as he looked at the ground, clearly upset. He looked lost, his hope of saying goodbye being stripped from him. You felt guilty that you were the one to make him like this, but it was the right thing to do. Or were you just telling yourself that?

“What am I supposed to do now?” Soobin felt defeated, he was stuck in a place he didn’t belong. You slowly leaned into Soobin, looking for any sign of disapproval, and hugged him. The warmth that enveloped Soobin like a blanket was still able to give him comfort. “You could always write a letter and pretend you wrote it before you died.” You talked softly, scared that any harsher of a tone would break him even more. Soobin escaped from your hug with newly found hope, his red puffy eyes looking at your pity filled ones. “That’s a brilliant idea!” Soobin was sad that he wouldn’t get to have a conversation, but at least this would cause less pain. Looking at his excited self made you wish you thought of this plan sooner. You had just met this man, but you were completely willing to make him happy. You assumed it was just the fact that you’d want the same done for you. “Well let’s get some rest and then we can start on that tomorrow.” Soobin nodded, he didn’t need any sleep, but knew that it was important for you. You still managed to get the couch comfortable for him, even putting a heavy blanket over him just in case it would work. Although Soobin knew blankets would do nothing to ease the cold feeling, he felt warm on the inside as you tried to take care of him.

When you fell asleep Soobin hesistantly walked through the wall and into your room. His eyes softened as he looked at your relaxed form. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was scared. Scared that if he didn’t stay beside you, he would be forgotten. Which led him to sitting beside your bed, holding your hand for the warmth.

You could smell something delicious, making your mouth water as you woke up. With eyes halfway open, you made your way to the smell that was coming from the kitchen. “Oh you’re awake!” Soobin turned towards you, hearing your dragging steps. Seeing him like this made you feel like you lived with him for a while. You’re once tired eyes opened wide as you realized he was cooking. “You cook?” You asked as you walked over to him. “I cooked here and there when I was alive. I heard that you’re not a really good cook and thought that I could pay you back for your help.” Soobin’s small smile and words left your cheeks tinted red. “You didn’t have to do this.” You couldn’t help your watery mouth when you looked at the fresh pancakes. When Soobin looked at you he was overjoyed seeing your shining eyes looking at the pancakes. “Yeah I know, but I wanted to. Besides I thought you’d be hungry.” He slid the last pancake onto the plate as he brought it to the table. “I’m not that hungry...” You tried to play it off, but the rumble coming from your stomach betrayed you. Soobin chuckeled, “eat up. I can’t really eat.” You we’re stuck looking at Soobin. You didn’t even think about it... he couldn’t really enjoy pancakes anymore. Shaking away this thought, you spread the syrup and grabbed the fork in excitement. As you went to dig in, you saw Soobin staring at you with a smile on his face, causing you to slow down.

“So when do you want to start writing?” You swallowed a big piece of the pancake as you waiting for an answer. “I’ve actually started already. The problem is that I keep throwing them away because I don’t know what to say.” Soobin sighed, resting his chin on his palm. “Why don’t you try writing from the heart?” The words flowed out of your mouth, too busy focusing on your almost finished pancakes. Soobin looked at you, clearly unimpressed. “Why didn’t I think of that? Oh wait... I did.” You laughed a bit at his sarcastic tone, now putting up the dirty plate. Soobin came up behind you, grabbing your arm and swinging it. “I need help.” He pouted. “Well... have you tried starting with the memories you’ve shared? That way you can work your way up and really know what it is you want to say.” You used to write a lot of letters for your friends and this had always helped you.

Soobin nodded, heading over to the small table where tons of paper were sprawled about. By the time you got over there Soobin had already picked up the pen and started writing. Being the nosy person you are, you read over his shoulder, giggling at the cute memories he wrote down.

“No way... did you really set your couch on fire and try to hide it?” You were hunched over trying to catch your breath as you visualized a tiny Soobin sitting on the burnt fabric, never getting up in attempt to hide it. Soobin, watching your fit of laughter, smiles fondly. Your laughter was beautiful and he never wanted to let it go. “Says the one who nearly burnt her house down trying to cook.” Soobin added in, causing your laughter to come to a halt. “You weren’t supposed to know about that.” You cursed your dad in your head.

You started to learn a lot about Soobin from reading about his life, to talking with each other. The longer Soobin was around, the more your head was filled with thoughts of him, but you blamed it on the fact that he was in the same room as you. “Ugh... I finally finished and need a break.” Without thinking about it, Soobin grabbed your hands and placed them on his chest. He couldn’t help but long for your warm touch. you were now pressed up against the chair and his back, leaving your face awfully close to his. The close proximity made your face heat up and when Soobin turned to look at you, you panicked. Coughing you withdrew your hands and backed up a bit. “Then let’s talk.” You pulled a chair next to Soobin and sat down. Soobin knew that he flustered you and he couldn’t help but enjoy it. He knew he was being selfish, but the feeling of his fake heart beating told him that he was starting to see you as more than the living girl willing to help him. You on the other hand, wouldn’t allow yourself to admit the reason behind your not so subtle glances at him that made your heart flutter. When you looked at him now he seemed different. He seemed... happy. Looking at him like this, you could easily mistake him for an everyday attractive boy. Couldn’t the two of you just stick together? The selfish thought of yours shocked you. If you did that then you’d be forcing him to live without his friends and family. Couldn’t you be enough? You quickly disregarded these thoughts, Soobin needed to find peace and you were not going to be the one to stop him.

You didn’t notice your eyes getting watery until a single tear streamed down your cheek. Soobin managed to see this. “Maybe we should talk about this whole thing.” He suggested, leading you to the couch as you quickly wiped the tear away. He ended up laying his head on his thighs as you ran your fingers through his hair. “Okay... what about it?” You asked with a heavy heart. “I know you’ve been wondering what I think about this whole situation.” You nodded your head, admitting to your prying mind. “I’m a little scared.” You could see where this was going, the look on his face showing concern as his eyes darted around. “I can’t help but wonder what comes next.” He took a deep breath in. “What if I get stuck here or if wherever I’m going isn’t as nice as it seems?” After telling this to you, Soobin felt the weight lift off of his shoulders, but you were stuck thinking about how he was going to go into the unknown. “Well... I don’t know. It depends what you believe, but what I do know is that you won’t have to feel out of place anymore. You’ll probably be comforted by the big bright light.” You yourself didn’t know what you believed, but Soobin’s glow was enough to reassure you he’d be alright.

There was a soothing silence before Soobin spoke up once more. “I don’t want to be just another memory that gets forgotten.” Soobin was now looking at your eyes that were focusing on his hair. “You would never be just a memory, nor would you be forgotten. You lived Soobin and in everyone’s hearts you will stay alive.” His hands grabbed yours, placing them where his heart should be. This caused you to look into his ocean blue eyes. The eyes that once lacked life were filled with emotions, causing a fire to ignite within you. You couldn’t lie to yourself anymore, you were falling for him. A forbidden relationship that should never exist. Maybe you didn’t want to admit this to yourself because you knew it would end in heartbreak, but you couldn’t seem to lie to yourself anymore. “Thank you.” Soobin wanted so badly to confess to you, but he was dead. He wanted to stay for you, but he knew it would only hold you back, so he kept his feelings to himself. He could tell you were being distant, so he made sure to continue. “You know... when I first saw you I knew there was something different about you, so I kept trying to get your attention.” Soobin wore a smile now, and you noticed that he was slightly glowing. He was ready to accept death completely and you had to live with that. “Well I’m glad I was finally able to meet you.” You successfully hid your sadness behind a smile. In order to stop himself from saying something he shouldn’t, he decided to get the show on the road. “I guess you should head to Yeonjun’s house now.” Soobin hesitantly mentioned. The two of you looked at eachother in silence, both having so much to say, but keeping it all in. “Yeah... I guess so. Bye Soobin... I’m glad I could help you.” You quickly grabbed the envelopes as you left in a heartbeat.

When you arrived at Yeonjun’s house, you didn’t think you would be this nervous. Hesistantly knocking on the door, you were trying to shake your nerves away. Maybe you should’ve mailed them. Your breath hitched while watching the wooden door open. The man who had opened it was young, blonde, and very handsome. “Hi, I’m looking for someone named Yeonjun. I found this letter left behind from the house I just moved into. Your address was on it.” The exact words that you rehearsed on your way here were hard to get out. “Okay well... I’m Yeonjun.” He looked at you weirdly, probably ready to call the cops if anything went south. “It says it’s from Soobin.” With that one name Yeonjun’s happy exterior seemed to deflate. “Oh... thank you.” His shaky voice broke your heart, you knew they’ve been best friends for the longest. “I hate to ask this... but there’s also one for someone named Hueningkai.” The boy infront of you clearly was having a hard time dealing with Soobin’s death. “He’s actually here right now. I’ll take it to him.” You handed him the other letter, reluctant to leave. “You know, you look like his type.” You looked up at the blond best friend with a raised eyebrow. “Who?��

“Soobin.” His answer left a bitter sweet feeling in you as you just smiled and nodded before walking away. You were close to tears, but wanted to be strong for Soobin. Seeing his parents could potentially break your heart even more, but you knew it was for the best. You used everything you could to distract yourself from the sad thought, now choosing to look at the different colors of the pavement. You must’ve been so distracted that you managed to forget about the world around you, that was until the unfamiliar door opened. You were now looking at a man that resembled Soobin in many ways, just older. It was obvious this was his dad. His sunken eyes were a little too noticeable and you were correct, your heart was breaking piece by piece. It was almost like you were reliving the life that was lost. Just seeing the people he wrote about left images of what the memories looked like to you. Why did the world have to take away this young twenty-two year old? Holding back the tears, you once again said what was rehearsed, like a broken record. “Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, but these two notes were left behind from where I just moved. They had your address on them and it’s from someone named Soobin.” His already sad eyes seemed to fall deeper in the darkness as he shakily took the letters, with a faint thank you. Before he could close the door you couldn’t help yourself and went off script. “Your son must really love you. I bet he’d want you to live a nice, long, and happy life.” You could tell he considered your words, finally walking into the house with his shoulders raised. The moment the door shut was when you realized that Soobin should’ve found peace by now. Instead of crying, you decided to hold it all in.

You didn’t realize how lonely you could feel until you opened the door. You kept reminding yourself that he had found peace, but you just felt numb. that was until you saw the tall black haired ghost looking at you with a frown. You wish your heart didn’t flip when you saw him. You wish that you didn’t hope to see him one last time. Although you wanted to be happy for this moment with him, you panicked. “What are you doing here? You should’ve found peace!” Did something go wrong? “Y/N... the reason I can’t move on yet is... is because of you.” You didn’t know how to react. His words sent a surge of emotions through you, causing you to lash out. “Soobin you can’t stay here! There’s nothing keeping you here! I’m okay with you leaving!” The lies left your mouth, anything to have him move on. Soobin didn’t say anything as he walked over to you, strongly pulling you against him. His hand pushed your head against his chest as he rubbed your back. “Please...” the anger left your body as you struggled to keep your tears back. “I couldn’t leave yet because it didn’t feel right. I never gave you a proper goodbye. Now... it’s okay to cry, I’ll miss you too.” He seemed to hug you tighter, his words relieving you. “Why did you have to die?” Tears ran down your cheeks as you started to shake from your choked sobs. “I don’t want to lose you, but I can’t keep you here.” Soobin’s shirt was getting drenched as you continued to cry into it.

He pushed you back a little so he could look into your eyes. “I like you Y/N and I’m sorry that we had to meet like this.” His eyes were red and puffy, but you didn’t have time to say anything before he leaned in, placing his cold, soft lips against yours. The kiss was passionate, the two of you never wanting to let go of this moment. You grew to enjoy his cold comforting touch, but it was slowly disappearing. When your lips left eachother Soobin made sure to put his hand over your eyes. “Please... just keep your eyes closed.” You listened to his last wish, shaking as you choked out a goodbye. The little trace of cold was replaced by warmth, causing you to fall to your knees as your eyes opened. You were met with an empty living room. For once, the house felt warm, but this could never make up for the internal warmth that had been stripped from you.

The next day was hard. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion and you seemed to zone out the whole day. People continued on with their lives as if nothing happened, but you knew and that was enough. You were able to say goodbye and you were grateful for that. When you got home and tossed your keys on the dresser, you became aware of the white envelope with Soobin’s handwriting. You were delicate with the envelope, not wanting to rip it. This letter was to you, the last thing you had of Soobin.

Dear Y/N,

You told me to write about my memories and work my way up. Sadly, we didn’t have much time together, however, every moment spent with you meant a lot to me. The days can get hard, but life is worth living. Even when everything seems to be going wrong, there is always something good right around the corner. Anyways, I’m sorry for scaring you that night, although I wish I could’ve messed with you some more before I leave...or left. I’ve never met someone who has made me feel the way you do. If you’re willing, I’d like to meet you in another life. Our time together was too short. I want to thank you as well. Thank you for helping me move on and for finally being able to save me from the cold. Please don’t cling onto me, I’d like you to move on as well. Let’s both be happy. Thank you for keeping me alive in your heart.

Love, your ghost boy Soobinie

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todoshotoki · 4 years

Text

𝙋𝘼𝙄𝙍𝙄𝙉𝙂: todoroki shoto x reader

𝙏𝙍𝙄𝙂𝙂𝙀𝙍 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂: mentions of anxiety, anxiety attacks, mentions of past abuse, thoughts of suicide

𝙎𝙐𝙈𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙔: where your sweet sixteen isn’t as sweet as you thought it’d be

𝙒𝙊𝙍𝘿 𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏: 2.6K

𝘼𝙐𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍'𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀: these are my raw emotions from last night and i wrote this to cope. these situations are very much real to me and what happened to me the day before posting this so please be kind about it. i’m still trying to recover.

you were turning sixteen. the day you had been anticipating had finally come and you could barely sleep the night before.

your parents had offered your boyfriend, shoto todoroki, to accompany you for breakfast to celebrate your birthday. he, of course, accepted and pushed everything else that he had to attend to on that morning for you.

you got up early, dancing and skipping around your dorm room while picking out clothes. you had clothes you had never worn since you bought them and you were ready to show the world that you had been confident enough to wear them. you were humming while doing your makeup when three knocks were heard from your door.

you stop contouring your cheeks to get the door. your lover was standing at your door with a small bag in hand, presumably a gift. “happy birthday, (y/n),” he pecks you on the cheek and pulls you into a hug.

“thank you, sho, you’re so sweet,” this makes the boy’s eyes light up as he had passed the gift onto you. you had known how much he was trying to be more openly emotional so little phrases like that were sure to make him happy. “should i open it now or later?” you ask him, sitting back down at your vanity.

“you can open it now if you want. i personally think it would go well with what you’re wearing.” he says, giving you a hint as to what it could possibly be. you spare him a smile before unraveling the decorative paper to take out a black small box with a red and white bow on it.

you grinned at the little detail and untied the bow. you lifted the lid of the box with a gasp and took out the expensive earrings you and shoto had seen while window shopping in shibuya a few weeks back. he remembered you looking at it and wanting to buy it but taking a glance at the price and turning away almost immediately.

“you didn’t!” you swoon over the accessory, holding it up in the air. a subtle smile curled up on shoto’s lips as he saw you try them on. and they did in fact match what you wearing. you turn to him and give him yet another hug which was just as warm as the first, “thank you so much!”

“anything for you, baby,” his grin becoming wider, completely feeding off the praise you were giving him. “i’ll finish my makeup and we’ll be out of here, hold on,” you spin back around to look at the mirror.

the two of you soon head out the door to the common room. it was still rather early so only the early birds were up. “(y/n)-chan, hey! happy birthday!” izuku waves to you from his place on the couch next to tenya. “yes, happy birthday, (y/n)! i hope you two have fun and stay safe!” tenya calls right afterward. “thanks, you guys!” you call back before stepping into the elevator with your boyfriend.

“are you as excited as i am?” you ask shoto, rocking your body from your toes to your heels as the doors close. “more like nervous,” he sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “don’t worry, you’ll be fine! they loved you the first time and they’ll definitely still like you this time.”

you two walk out to the more populated areas in musutafu. you were meeting up at an american style diner and shouto had a bad of picky eating so you had chosen here on purpose. at first, he wanted whine and protest but you had brought up the point that “if you two were going to be dating then he couldn’t just live off of soba.”

once you had spotted your parents, you caught on quickly to the fact that they didn’t bring anything as a present. you ignored it, maybe it would show up later...

“(y/n)! shoto-kun! you’re finally here.” your mother clasped her hands in excitement. your parents were seated at a booth and the waiter must have did her round and asked if they wanted any drinks so there were two glasses of water in front of you.

“hi, mom! hi, dad!” you sat down closest to the window while shoo bowed in greetings to your parents before sitting down.

your parents continued to make small talk varying between the food and your school life. the whole time you were smiling, this year was so much different from the others.

your parents weren’t huge fans of celebrating birthdays and often treated them like normal days besides a gift so going out today was definitely a change of atmosphere.

“americans eat a lot, no wonder, (y/n) picked this place.” this remark from your mother made your smile falter a little bit but not too noticeably as you fiddled with your straw. shoto had scowled at the woman, but calmed down and started a conversation just between you and him.

once you all had finished eating, your dad got up and said, “well, i’m going back to work,” your raise an eyebrow, “already?” your smile almost faded this time. “i have to go run errands as well,” your mother says trailing behind your dad to head to her car.

“but-” you cut yourself short, sighing a bit to yourself, you were planning to take pictures with all three of them but your parents just rushed to disappear from this event completely. they hadn’t even thought to buy you a birthday present.

“don’t be upset, i’m here,” shoto caresses your cheeks knowingly, “we can go shopping if you’d like?” you shake your head at this. “it’s okay, sho,” your eyes dart away from his gaze of white and blue, “i’m not going to let it get to me. plus you have spent way too much money.” you say referring to the earrings that were dangling at the side of your cheeks.

“well, i could always use my dad’s card,” he wiggles his eyebrows uncharacteristically making you chuckle and hit him playfully. “pfft- no! let’s go back to the dorms.” he caved in, muttering some nonsense about wanting to make his father bankrupt which you just shake your head to.

you walked to the train station and took the first train back to u.a. amidst the train ride, you had gotten a message. it was one of many. it was an unsaved number and you assumed that it was was one of your old friends from middle school or something. you opened up the chat log.

the texts and calls all day had made you happy. people actually cared about you?

you checked the suggested name and your heart sunk so low in your stomach that you swore you were suddenly falling. you felt your blood begin to pump in your ears.

you felt a hand on your’s to which you flinched to. “hey, what is it?” shoto whispers, massaging your hand with his thumb, he didn’t want to peer at your phone for the sake of privacy. you just shook your head and shut off your phone. with trembling fingers and jagged breathing, you had put the phone in your bag.

you were not okay.

you were definitely not okay.

how could they do that to you? how could they do that so easily?

“i’ll be fine shoto, there’s nothing to worry about,” the use of his full name and the harshness in it made him looked like he had been kicked. his gaze almost made you want to crumble. it made your heart sink further and further and your nerves started to flare up again.

how could you possibly explain this to shoto?

oh, my abusive ex, just wished me happy birthday so i’m flipping out even though i haven’t seen them in two years and i still haven't recovered cause i haven't been treated or medicated for the trauma because my parents refuse to???

yeah right.

you became nauseous as the train movement was pushing you to the edge. everything they had done to you was manifesting once again and the shock was slowly spreading and decaying each and every one of your abilities to function.

your muscles in your face felt heavy. you were aware every ounce in your body and how much effort it took to lug it around.

you were supposed to be happy today. it was your day.

what seemed to be something had just turned into nothing in the matter of moments. who knew a two letter phrase could fuck you up so easily.

you talked a lot with shoto for the remainder of the time left. you held his hand but you couldn’t feel your fingers, the buzzing of disassociating completely was crawling up on you and you wanted nothing but to scream.

it’s okay. you still got the cake, right? everyone in class 1a would love to share cake with you and shoto. you haven’t had a celebration with cake in so long that it became your only hope at this point.

but a part of you knew that this was another way of your brain coping with the stress. nobody had bought the cake for you. nobody had bough the candles for you. nobody had noticed it was your birthday until you took the initiative to tell them the day before. you were all doing this because nobody actually ca-

don’t think about that.

it was your birthday.

you were happy. you were happy.

your forced a smile on your lips as you trudged along the sidewalk to the dorms. everything was so heavy. you set it aside as the lack of sleep you were getting. you had to put more concealer under your eyelids this morning to cover up the dark circles.

it was that it was definitely that.

...

as the day drew to a close, you were still in your room from when you arrived at noon. you sat in your bed alone. you couldn’t bring the courage to ask your classmates to join you anymore.

you had kicked your sheets off your bed, blasting the air conditioning and sat upright to just feel something.

you wanted to tear your skin a part, you wanted to shred every emotion you felt right now into shreds. the pulsating agony of the thoughts that nobody cared just triggered tears to well up in your eyes.

the stupid birthday cake.

you had built a realty that you wanted to come true but it was always to good to be true for you, wasn't it?

yes, you had gotten birthday wishes but your parents seemed like everything to you. they criticized and nagged you for things you took pride and joy in. they told you over and over that you were eating too much, too little, talking too loud, too much.

everything was wrong with you and if everything was wrong with you then they were all pretending.

they didn’t care. they never cared.

that’s why you sat there lighting your own dumb ass store bought cake with cheap ass flavorless frosting and spongy cake batter.

what were you trying to prove to yourself?

were you trying to prove that you were mentally stable? that you had people in your corner? let me tell you that was delusional thinking.

crying yourself to sleep on your birthday wasn’t something that you had thought would happen. it was supposed to be special. it was supposed to be different.

it was the first year where you thought you had friends and you weren’t being yelled at and hurt but even then nothing had changed. the ghost of trauma still loomed over your head.

nobody believed you, nobody would ever believe you, you had no bruises to show for it, no broken bones, just a twisted up mentality.

“sho...,” you whimper as the shivering wouldn’t ever stop. you felt your eyes well up in tears and just let them silently cascade down your face.

they looked so disinterested. they all could care less.

a few knocks at your door. “hey, (y/n)?” you heard softly at your door. it was izuku.

you didn’t want to answer. you bit down on your lip so the sobs wouldn’t start up again. it soon became almost too much as your chest tightened.

you covered your mouth as more and more tears streamed down your face and your body failed to take oxygen into your lungs.

maybe dying wasn’t that bad?

fuck, you were being so overdramatic.

“(y/n), we know you’re there...” another voice calls from your door. this time it was ochako. you still didn’t want to answer.

“just leave me alone,” you gasp out to yourself since you highly doubted that they would be able to hear you.

it hurt so bad being so alone.

no matter how much time you spent. no matter how much love and affection was thrown your way it all seemed so fake.

another voice, “c’mon, (y/n), if you won’t answer them. can you answer me?” it couldn’t be other than your boyfriend’s. this made you feel torn between just sitting here and going to the door.

your feet carried you to the door. only shoto stood there now looking at the ruined makeup on your cheeks. “baby...” his soft voice was all it took for you to start ugly crying.

sobs and wails escape your lips and he close the door behind him, hushing you as he takes you into his arms. “you’re okay, it’s going to be okay.” he leads you to your bed and helps you lay down next to him.

between the combing through your hair with his fingers and the kisses that he left on your forehead, your anxiety soon slowed.

“listen to me, okay? whatever you’re thinking right now and whatever you’re doubting right now is all untrue. everyone loves you and even if some things didn’t work out, there’s always a next time, remember?” he hums, transferring some of his quirk to his fingertips to ground you a little bit more than just the sheets underneath you two.

“i’ll be okay, right?” you mumble, moving your ear to his beating heart.

“yes, of course, you will. we all have got you.” he hugs you a bit tighter for a moment, “it’s okay to cry. you’ve been through a lot. those feelings are valid and you will be able to conquer them eventually with one step at a time.”

you both laid their in silence intertwined. you inhaled the smell of peppermint from his shirt and finally said something.

“can i tell you something?” you ask him lowly. you could already feel the burning in your throat. “anything you want, sweetheart,” he nods. “well- um- i was mistreated... badly in the past.” you felt your voice start to fade with the words. you cleared your throat and punched your chest to get that choking feeling out.

“i don’t like saying it was this bad out loud because it sounds so stupid but i was manipulated and...” you trailed off into tears as your crying started up again. you felt his body run cold for a moment but he quickly recovered. “it’s okay, it’s okay, don’t worry... you don’t have to explain anything to me right now.”

you nod and sniffle, “okay... then i would like to tell you later,”

“alright, remember, i’m right here and i’ll never leave,” he hums, wiping away your tears, “rikido made a cake for you, do you still want to celebrate?”

this made a smile manifest on your lips, “of course!”

#Shoto #todoroki shouto #shoto todoroki #Shouto #oneshot #bnha angst #mha todoroki #todoroki angst #todoroki x reader #todoroki #todoroki shoto x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfic #boku no academia #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero academia fanfiction

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hazelcmist · 4 years

Text

A Cure for Christmas

Summary: Two Brits grounded and stranded in the middle of Nowhere, North Carolina during a ‘blizzard’ and there’s only one loaf of bread, one carton of milk and one hotel room left to share. Whatever will they do?

Pairing: Ten x Rose

31 days of Ficmas: Snowed In

@doctorroseprompts

The disastrous day began in the Heathrow airport. Normally, John Smith – the Doctor to his friends and colleagues – enjoyed traveling and took all the delays in stride, but Gallifrey Inc. was threatening to pull the plug on his latest vaccine that could improve and save the lives of millions world-wide. The vaccine had spent the last six months in the development stages, but the new CEO of Saxon Inc. had abruptly cut 75% of their funding. The stocks of Gallifrey Inc. had plummeted and the Doctor and Gallifrey Inc. were floundering. The start-up company had invested everything into the Doctor’s latest vaccine, but if they couldn’t find an immediate investor, Gallifrey Inc. would be bankrupt by the end of the year and the much-needed vaccine would never be completed.

Any hopes of salvaging his career, completing the vaccine, and rescuing the company that had taken him in like a family from financial ruin was now pinned on one company that had shown some recent interest in the vaccine.

Vitex.

Vitex’s CEO was currently at their American headquarters in Los Angeles. Donna Noble generally handled this sort of thing, but Pete Tyler had requested to meet the Doctor himself, and Donna had Bronchitis. The Doctor loved traveling, but he was anxious about the meeting and he was already running behind schedule.

Thanks to Donna’s brilliance, the Doctor had managed to get on one of the few direct flights to LAX, but the departure kept getting pushed back. By the time the pretty blonde fetched up against the bar and rammed her valise into his kneecap, the Doctor had been waiting for three hours and was two banana daiquiris deep at the airport bar.

“Oi! Mind the knees!”

She whipped around and the Doctor’s breath caught in his throat.

“Sorry,” she said with a dazzling apologetic smile. “Lost my balance. Think I broke one of my heels running through the airport,” she confessed with a wince.

“Let me take a look,” he offered before he could stop himself.

The Doctor was usually quite good with fixing things, but unfortunately this innate ability did not extend to women’s footwear.

Twenty minutes later, she was barefoot and sharing a stool with him at the packed bar, and they had yet another round of banana daiquiris in front of them.

“’s not your fault,” she assured him, patting his leg. The Doctor tried to disguise the shiver that went through him at her touch.

“I broke your other heel too,” he lamented.

“’s okay,” she said, squeezing his knee, “I hate high heels, can’t run in them.”

The Doctor gazed out at the crowd passing in and out of the duty-free shop across the way and a brilliant idea occurred to him.

“Wait here,” he instructed her.

He was back in a jiffy with a newly purchased pair of Chucks for her. They even matched her red blouse. She laughed when he made sure to point this out to her and launched into a lecture on the merits of proper footwear and little shops in airports. The Doctor wished he could’ve recorded that laugh and could’ve bottled the feeling that it evoked inside of him.

Suddenly, the crew announced that they were preparing for boarding.

“Sorry, I’ve got to run for my life,” he said, throwing some money down on the bar to cover both drinks.

It didn’t occur to him until he was seated at the back of the plane with his nose in a book and a warm tingly feeling resonating in his chest that he’d felt so comfortable with her, and yet he hadn’t even learned her name.

The flight was a nightmare. Rose loved travelling and was looking forward to seeing her father and finally getting a tour of Los Angeles and the new Vitex Headquarters, but the flight had been turbulent and in spite of everything Rose had tried to do to help, her seatmate had gotten violently ill. She hadn’t been the only one. The plane was forced to make an emergency landing because of the inclement weather and one of the flight attendants suddenly taking ill as well. Rose was seated in first class and was therefore one of the first to exit the plane, only after another flight attendant assured her that the other woman would be fine and was being seen to by a doctor.

Rose didn’t know where they ended up, but it became immediately clear judging from the empty terminal, that this place was a far cry from Heathrow. All of the gates were empty, save for a few sparrows that were hopping from seat to seat, eagerly looking for crumbs.

“Where are we?” Rose wondered aloud.

“No idea,” a voice said cheerfully and Rose turned to find the bloke from the airport bar beaming at her. “Hello again,” he greeted her, wiggling his fingers.

“Hello,” Rose echoed, smiling widely. He had some great hair, some really great hair. She honestly wasn’t sure how long they stood there staring at each other as the rest of the passengers flowed around them and ran for the baggage claim and the customer service desk.

“Nice Chucks,” he complimented her with a wink.

“Thanks,” she said with a touch-touched grin that caused him to sway toward her as if she was magnetic. “’m Rose,” she introduced herself.

“I’m the Doctor,” he said, taking her hand. The way his fingers curled around hers, felt right, so right that she was reluctant to let go.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels.

“Starved,” Rose admitted. “I want chips.”

“Allonsy,” he said, leading the way. “Let’s go find a chippie.”

It quickly became clear that they were not in London anymore.

“Closed?” The Doctor sputtered for the fourth time in the last ten minutes. “What do you mean you’re closed?”

“It’s gonna snow,” the manager of the fourth and final place to eat explained with a shrug. “The whole airport’s shutting down.

“But what about our flight?”

The manager shrugged again.

“It’ll be rescheduled,” he grunted, “Maybe in a few days?”

“A few days?” The Doctor’s jaw dropped, but the manager was already pushing past him with his staff eagerly following him out of the terminal.

Rose and the Doctor discovered that while they’d wasted their time tracking down all four of the places that served food, their fellow passengers had been discussing and making rearrangements. By the time they got to the last couple of harried airport employees, there wasn’t much left.

“We don’t know when the next flight out will be,” the kindly representative, Lynda explained to them and one other passenger in a ballcap. “They’re saying we could get six inches of snow.”

“Six? That’s it?” barked the passenger with a nasally accent next to them, “Where I come from, that’s nothing. Let me tell you about the blizzard of ’78. I had to dig myself out of a snow drift eight feet high and walk all the way to the packie for a six-pack of beer-”

“We only have five snow plows for the entire state and one of them got hit by a truck yesterday,” Lynda interrupted him. “But they salted the roads two days ago, so hopefully we’ll be up and running by Wednesday.”

“Two days ago!” the passenger barked. “What the fuck is that supposed to do? Do you guys even know how to de-ice a plane? Does anyone here even own an ice scraper? Or a shovel?”

“If the snow sticks and we get as much as they’re predicting,” Lynda explained to a very confused Rose and the Doctor, “The whole state will shut down for the next forty-eight hours, possibly longer depending on how quickly it melts. I’m sorry. I can put you up in a room in the hotel across the road, courtesy of British Airways, but I’ve only got one room left.”

Rose and the Doctor were too stunned to disagree. With a few clicks the agent had arranged for them to share a room for a night, possibly two, depending on the weather.

“There’s a convenience store right outside the hotel,” she informed them, “I’d recommend stocking up on supplies before we get snowed in and they close.”

“Where’s the nearest Dunkin’ Donuts? What about Market Basket?” the other man was demanding as Rose and the Doctor gathered up their baggage and hurried out before the shop closed.

Luckily the hotel was in walking distance, but the shop was attached to a petrol station. Rose and the Doctor were shocked by the amount of cars lined up for petrol and the amount of people who left their cars running to do their shopping. The shop was small, but what little they had was swept up into the arms of anxious, fearful people prepared to weather an apocalypse. Surely, Rose and the Doctor must’ve heard the weather reports wrong, because the shelves were practically bare. One of the clerks told them that a fist fight had nearly erupted over the last case of water. All that remained now was one slightly smooshed loaf of bread and a carton of milk that had the sell by date rubbed off.

The Doctor opened the milk up, sniffed it, and decided that it would do. He added the last three jars of some weird organic jam to their basket as well, ignoring Rose’s roll of her eyes when he insisted on opening that up to sample as well.

The Doctor actually crowed in triumph when the shopkeeper brought out some bananas that had been missed in the back. But once Rose confessed that she’d actually brought tea and biscuits from home at her father’s request, the Doctor gave her a smile so blindingly bright that her face warmed.

“Rose,” he gushed, taking her hand and swinging it between them, “You are fantastic!”

They left the shop together just as it was beginning to snow. Tiny flurries drifted down around them and the Doctor made a dramatic show of trying to catch them on his tongue. He kept her laughing right up until they approached the front desk of the hotel and found out they’d been given a room.

A room with only one bed.

“Are you sure there aren’t any other rooms available?” the Doctor asked the concierge. But the man apologized that they were all booked up because of the grounded flights and the ‘blizzard’ coming in.

“Isn’t it exciting? They’re saying we could get up to a foot of snow!” the concierge squealed, “I’ve never seen snow before. I can’t wait to build my first snowman!” He clapped his hands together enthusiastically, oblivious to Rose and the Doctor’s strained smiles as they considered the prospect of sharing a hotel room and a bed with a stranger for multiple nights.

The lift was small, but their room seemed even smaller to Rose once the door clicked shut behind them. Logically Rose knew the hotel room was probably larger than most of the rooms she’d stayed in over the last few years, but she didn’t think the Doctor had been quite so tall, so manly and so attractive until they were in a confined space together.

And that was bad, very bad, because Rose had just gotten out of an awful relationship and she had no intention of starting another one. After Jimmy Stone, Rose didn’t want to even look at another man, let alone sleep in the same bed as one.

No matter how much more fit and brilliant the bloke appeared to be in comparison to her ex.

“I can sleep on the floor,” Rose offered generously at the same time as he did.

They looked at each other and then glanced away again with a bit of nervous laughter. The Doctor rubbed at the nape of his neck and Rose sat down on the edge of the bed to unlace her Chucks that unfortunately weren’t quite broken in yet. She couldn’t quite disguise a flinch as she removed her left shoe. The new shoes had made the blisters that had formed from her ruined heel worse.

“Mind if I take a look?” he offered, and Rose folded her arms over her chest.

“You broke my other heel,” she reminded him pointedly. “’m not sure I trust you around anything.

“I’m a Doctor,” he assured her, “Well, sort of,” he mollified removing a pair of specs from the inside of his suit jacket, “I have a Doctorate in Physics and Chemistry, but I only did a brief stint in Engineering, Astronomy and Medicine, but that has to count for something, right?”

Rose blinked at him and he took that as permission. Kneeling down on the carpet at her feet, he carefully examined her left foot. Her eyelids slid to half-mast as he started to massage her heel and the arch of her foot, and then her toes. She was practically purring by the time he finished up with one foot and moved onto the other.

“You spend a lot of time on your feet,” he noted, repeating the same glorious patterns on her right foot.

“Used to work in a shop, twelve-hour shifts, constantly running around,” she explained, suppressing a moan of pleasure as he hit just the right spot with his magical fingers. The Doctor must’ve caught the sound she made, because he abruptly released her foot and stood up.

“Right, well, it looks like as long as you don’t wear shoes for the next few days those blisters should heal up on their own,” he said, backing away from her. The room was so small that he didn’t get very far.

“Don’t think that should be much of a problem, seeing as we’re not going anywhere for the next couple of days,” Rose sighed and looked out the window. In the glow of lamplight in the car park, she could see the snowflakes coming down faster and heavier.

The Doctor stepped toward the window and pushed the curtains wide. If it kept snowing like this then there was no way he was going to get out in time to make his appointment with Pete Tyler, and if he didn’t get the funding for Vitex, his colleagues and friends were going to lose their jobs, and the Doctor would never get a chance to get the vaccine out for a disease that was affecting millions of lives.

“You alright?”

He turned around and found Rose, bathed in the soft ambient lighting of the hotel room. The red blouse paired beautifully with what was left of her lipstick and highlighted the healthy rosy flush to her cheeks. She’d taken her hair down from its updo and her hair was longer than he expected, spilling down over her shoulders.

Rose reminded him a bit of Reinette, but there was nothing fake about her or her beauty. Her kindness and the beating heart that it came from was all genuine. It was a shame he’d sworn off relationships after his affair with the Parisian had ended in heartbreak, because he already knew that Rose was beautiful inside and out.

“I’m fine,” he lied.

She gave him a skeptical look, but fortunately she didn’t press him as she gathered up her toiletries and a change of clothes.

“Gonna use the loo, unless…” She waited for him to object, but he motioned for her to go ahead.

And then he was left alone again to contemplate how he was about to lose everything he’d worked for over the last decade, letting down more and more people with every snowflake that piled up outside.

TO BE CONTINUED...

#31 days of ficmas #doctorroseprompts #fic and chips #my writing

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chalantness · 4 years

Text

fic: Here, On the Edge of Hell (6/6)

Rating: M Word Count: ~14,300 (part six) Characters: Steve/Natasha Summary: mafia au. She knows her father hadn’t been lying when he said that Uncle Howard wanted her to keep an eye on Steve, but if this was simply about protection, he wouldn’t have put her on the line at all. Especially not with all of the heat Steve Rogers is getting from the other Families, which means that her uncle has another reason for Natasha to be involved.

He just won’t tell her what it is.

Read On: [ ao3 ]

A/N: I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S FINALLY HERE! The last part of the mafia 'verse!!

I initially thought this was going to take me 1-1.5 months tops to finish, but in true Chanty fashion, it took twice that long... three months later, and we're finally at the end! I'm excited and a little nervous to get to the big reveals, and I'm warning you now that this is my first genuine attempt at writing action sequences of this kind, but I'm really happy of how this chapter and this whole story turned out and I hope you darlings are, too! I had so much fun with this 'verse, and it's definitely the closest of anything I've written to the kinds of stories I want to tell in my original works. If you liked this story overall (I know there was a lot of room for improvement!) then I think you may like the stories I've got in store as an author!

Thank you darlings for all of your support and enthusiasm!

“I must admit, I was beginning to doubt if I’d ever get the satisfaction of having a Rogers on his knees. Of course,” Anton muses, sliding both hands lazily into his pockets, “I’d always pictured it to be Joseph. Maybe Pietro. But I suppose you look enough like both of them to suffice.”

Steve clenches his jaw, eyes flickering to Wanda kneeling beside him in the middle of what seems to be an empty warehouse. Honestly, Steve wouldn’t be surprised if it’s exactly that. The restaurant he and Wanda had been about to pick up food from is near the harbor, and Steve knows that Howard Stark just bought a few shipment facilities in this area from a business going bankrupt. He mentioned they were about to break ground on this site, too, which means all of the buildings would’ve already been cleaned out and fenced off from the public, and since this place is going to be the new site for another Stark Industries building, it would make sense that Anton would have access to it.

“And you, my dear,” Anton continues, turning to Wanda, and Steve feels his entire body stiffen as Anton reaches down to grasp at Wanda’s throat, forcing her to tip her chin up to meet his stare. Her wrists are tied behind her back, probably just as tightly as Steve’s are, but her arms still wiggle as she struggles against the knot, twisting her body away from Anton as best as she can. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to get rid of you as well. If I thought you would actually stay quiet, I would’ve kept your pretty face for myself.”

Wanda narrows her eyes up at him in a glare. “I would have begged for you to kill me instead.”

“I thought you were smart enough not to show your hand.” Anton releases her throat with a shove, nearly knocking her over, and Steve grits his teeth together. “Since it seems worse than death for you, I might just change my mind. Kill your beloved brother in front of you then keep you out of sight for a while, just for my amusement.”

“I’m all for that plan,” Ivan chimes in, squatting down beside Wanda and brushing her hair from her face, glass shards from the shattered back windshield of the car still threaded through the wild strands. He grasps her chin with his fingers, flashing his teeth in a dangerous smile. “What do you think, princess? Should we have a little fun?”

“That’s enough,” Steve practically growls. “You’re not touching her.”

“Unless it’s over your dead body?” Anton guesses. “Because if that’s what you’re waiting for, it’s about to be arranged.”

“You’re not touching her, period,” Steve snaps, only barely keeping his voice from shaking, every muscle in his body going taut. He’s pissed. He’s fucking pissed, and he knows that Anton can see it in his eyes because there’s a fleeting flash of alarm in his eyes before he blinks, smug once more.

It doesn’t fool Steve, though. Anton might’ve taken his gun, and he might have Steve on his knees with his hands tied, but the man still feels threatened by him.

“You’re not in any position to be making threats,” Ivan spits out at Steve, practically sneering. “But what else would I expect? You Rogers feel like you own the fucking world. Howard barely even blinks in my direction all these years and yet, you step in and he serves his precious niece up to you on a silver platter, just because you’re Joseph’s boy.”

Steve curls his fists even tighter, somehow, almost tight enough that his fingernails practically break through his own skin. “Therein lies your problem,” Steve replies, and some small, selfish part of him relishes in the obvious annoyance flickering in Ivan’s expression at how calm his voice is, almost nonchalant. No doubt the guy thinks it only proves his belief that Steve feels like he’s entitled. “Maybe if you stopped treating women like playthings, he might start to consider you as someone worth acknowledging.”

Ivan half-shoves his hand away from Wanda, just as Anton had, and grabs the front of Steve’s shirt with his fist, hauling him onto his feet as he practically growls in his face.

Steve blinks back at him, jaw ticking, but he manages to keep his expression composed. Which of course only pisses Ivan off even more.

“You think you can just swoop in and take your daddy’s place on top?” Ivan demands. “You think you’ve got everyone fooled?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Steve hitches his mouth up ever so slightly in a smirk. “I think being head of the Family already speaks for itself. Not that you’d know what that kind of respect is like considering Howard barely considers you one of his soldiers.”

Ivan grits his teeth. “I’m the only one who isn’t too big of a coward to be scared off by Stark’s made up rules. That’s the real reason he doesn’t get in my way.”

“You’re a liability,” Steve counters. “You think my father is the only reason I get any respect? Your father is the only reason you haven’t been cut off.”

A growl rips of Ivan’s throat. “You little—”

“Calm down, boy!” Anton barks, yanking Ivan back by his jacket, and Ivan shoves Steve back before shrugging his father’s hand off of him, still gritting his teeth. “This is why you get sloppy. He’s trying to rile you up and you’re falling for it.”

Steve holds back a grunt of discomfort as his knees hit the ground again, his body very nearly swaying back from the force of Ivan’s shove, but he manages to catch his balance at the last second. Anton is in Ivan’s face now, his words coming out in a low hiss as he says something to Ivan under his breath, and Steve takes the moment of distraction to turn to Wanda once more. He hadn’t wanted to risk more than just a few quick glances, wanting to avoid drawing any more attention onto her. It’s already obvious to Anton and Ivan that the only real advantage they have over Steve is his sister, and likewise for Wanda, but actually showing that weakness is even worse.

He was worried that she might’ve been more banged up from the crash than he initially thought, and now that he has the time to look for any injuries, he notices a fresh scrape on her arm, probably from when Anton dragged her from the wreckage. But it isn’t bleeding, nor does it seem all that deep, so he won’t worry over it right now.

What does worry him, though, is the fact that Wanda is still squirming against her restraints. It’s subtle enough that Ivan and Anton probably won’t notice, but Steve does, and for a moment he thinks that maybe she’s in discomfort because of how tightly the rope could be knotted around her wrists—but then he catches a glimpse of something shifting behind her back. The slim, black metal is hidden by Wanda’s blouse at an awkward angle with the way her wrists are tied together, but he recognizes it in an instant.

Bucky’s knife.

... ...

The hotel that Yuri’s men take her to is one of the few in New York that her uncle hasn’t managed to buy out, which Natasha is willing to bet isn’t a coincidence on their part. That’s likely the only reason they were able to slip under the Family’s radar for so long, though the place itself is by no means modest, and Natasha isn’t surprised when they lead her onto the elevator reserved for the residential suites at the top. And he’d probably booked out the entire top floor, too, not simply for his men but for the sake of discretion as well – and, not for the first time, Natasha knows it’d been the right call to follow Yelena’s advice to not have Tony follow her when she was going to be grabbed.

Judging just from the number of men posted along the hallways on the way to the suite, Natasha knows her family would’ve been outgunned on their own, even with every capo and soldier available on such short notice. Having the entire Family and their men will give them the advantage.

Just as long as Natasha can hold out until they find her.

Yelena has barely glanced in her direction, her composed expression perfectly in place, and Natasha has been careful to keep her own gaze appropriately alarmed considering she was just coerced into the back of a van off of the street without any explanation. If she comes off too unaffected, they may realize that she’d been expecting this; but she can’t come off too affected, either, considering it would be just as suspicious for someone so high up in a mafia to act as if this is her first ever time in this kind of situation.

Which it isn’t, though both other times had been part of her plan, so it really didn’t matter how unaffected she appeared to be when she’d had the upper hand from the beginning. This time is far different, and if Natasha had any less of a poker face, she wouldn’t stand a chance at making Yuri believe she’s entirely in the dark.

Yelena produces a keycard from her pocket as they reach the double doors of the suite, unlocking them, and then two men draw them open from inside, revealing a large sitting room with wide, glass walls overlooking the city.

And, lounging on the couch in the center of the suite, is Yuri Petrovich.

Natasha had already known who he was before Yelena had explained their connection. He may live in a different country, but his mob has associates in New York, so the Family has always kept tabs on them. Even without that reason, her uncle would’ve insisted on it, anyway, simply because of their reputation.

And because of her, she realizes. Just as Yelena had said, whether or not Natasha truly is related to him isn’t relevant; the possibility of it alone would’ve been enough for her and her mother to be on their radar to begin with, and that would’ve been enough for Uncle Howard to view the threat of the Petrovich mob coming after them as real.

“Natasha,” he greets, his smile almost charming, and his men usher her further into the room as they close the doors behind her. “I’m glad that you can join us.”

Her lips curve into the ghosts of a smirk. “I couldn’t exactly decline the invitation.”

He waves her over with two fingers, and she takes a moment to let her gaze slide over the room. Partly to assess where his men are posted throughout the suite, a move he would’ve expected her to pull, but also to take note of where Yelena has come to stand behind the couch Yuri is seated on. Distant enough as to not draw suspicion yet close enough to have an advantage over him from behind, though it also puts her in everyone’s line of fire, so the chances of her actually being able to make the first move are slim.

Not without a distraction, at least.

Natasha walks around the couch opposite of Yuri, perching herself on the cushion, and he leans forward to grab a bottle of vodka out of a bucket of ice on the table. “Care to join me?” he asks, pouring the alcohol into two shot glasses. “I know it’s not a traditional drink to share for first meetings, but I have a feeling you and I have the same taste.”

She lets cautious curiosity flicker in her eyes when he looks at her. “That’s quite an assumption”

“Let’s just say, I recognize a kindred spirit when I see one,” he replies, sliding one of the glasses over, and she eyes him skeptically as she picks it up. “After all, we already have quite a lot in common.”

“Because I’m of Russian blood?” she asks. She knows it could be dangerous to try and coax the truth out of him like this, but the secretive, smug edge to his smirk only widens, his eyes flashing, and Natasha can tell that he finds her choice of words more ironic than suspicious. “If you know this about me, you’ll also know I was raised here.”

He hums, lifting his glass instead of replying, and Natasha tips her head back as he does to drain her shot. It’ll take more than this to get her drunk or even buzzed, but she still needs to be careful if he insists on more.

“I do know this,” Yuri finally answers, setting the vodka aside as he stares back at her. “I know quite a bit about you, in fact.”

“And I suppose the reason for that is why you’ve come all the way here to pay me a visit in person,” Natasha muses. “Or is this how you woo all the Russian girls?”

“Woo?” He shakes his head. “No, that would be rather inappropriate, though I don’t suppose Melina Stark has given you a clue as to why.”

Natasha allows her irritation to flit across her expression, her body stiffening in annoyance at his tone, though the satisfied curl of his lips tells her that she’s come off as alarmed as she’d intended. “If we have as much in common as you say, then you’ll know that as adept as I am at playing games, I don’t particularly enjoy them,” Natasha replies, letting her casual tone slip from her voice as she narrows ever so slightly. “I would hardly consider us kindred spirits simply because we’re both of Russian descent.”

Yuri raises his eyebrows slightly, almost seeming impressed by her bluntness. “Perhaps we don’t have everything in common, because I do enjoy a good game of watching others squirm. But since I admire your boldness, I’ll return it: our Russian descent isn’t all that we share, dear sister. We are blood by its very definition.”

She tilts her head, gauging his expression. It’s clear that he believes his words, just as Yelena had said, and she lets anger flit across her face. “And I should take your word?”

“If I had the time, I would’ve brought Melina here to tell you the story herself,” Yuri replies, his smirk widening as he lounges back against the couch. “But since she isn’t with us at the moment, I’ll give you the courtesy that she should’ve given you and tell you exactly why Melina Vostokoff fled to America on your father’s arm. Of course, if I’d been accused of having an affair with my best friend’s husband, I wouldn’t be too keen on sharing that story with my supposed daughter,” he adds with a shake of his head.

“An affair?” Natasha questions.

“I believe you’re intelligent, dear sister, and the talk of you within the underground of New York would support my belief,” Yuri muses. “I know you must have wondered what would’ve compelled your mother to marry a man who had been on vacation and leave her country on such an impulsive whim. Sure, it makes for quite a romantic story, but you know deep down that isn’t the truth.” Yuri leans forward again, his elbows resting on his knees as he holds Natasha’s stare, eyes flashing dangerously. “The reason that Melina acclimated so quickly to her husband’s lifestyle is because she was already familiar with it herself. It was a life she shared with her best friend Alia back in Russia.”

“Which is supposedly your mother,” Natasha guesses, keeping her voice dry and unamused. “Alia Petrovich.”

He flashes his teeth in a wide grin. “Formerly known as Natalia Romanov. Quite similar to your own name, isn’t it, Natasha?”

This time, Natasha’s surprise is genuine as she pulls back slightly. He reaches into his pocket, making Natasha’s body stiffen in alarm, but rather than a weapon, he produces a thin necklace and tosses it in her direction, and she catches it in her palm. The charm is a slim bar, engraved in script—her own name, she realizes.

“When my mother passed, this was found among her possessions. At first, I believed it was simply hers. Natasha is a variant of Natalia, after all.” He shakes his head, and there’s something in his voice, something in his eyes, that has Natasha nearly holding her breath. She isn’t simply feigning ignorance for his sake; she can feel her blood begin to hum in her veins, as if anticipating his next words. “But then I realized that it wasn’t meant for her. It was meant for you, my dear sister,” he tells her, and Natasha nearly risks a glance at Yelena, wanting to see if this is a surprise to her as well. Natasha is willing to bet that it is. “Melina never had an affair. Our mother was the one that did.”

... ...

Steve clenches and unclenches his jaw, careful to keep his anger in his expression even as he feels relief unfurl in his chest as Wanda finally slices through the knot around her wrists. She catches the rope in her fingers before it can go slack, hand closing tightly around the handle of the slim, black knife. The one that Ivan had evidently missed when he’d patted her down. Considering her arms have been drawn behind her back this whole time, Steve is guessing that she had the holster strapped under her blouse. Bucky’s knife is thin enough that it would have still been decently concealed despite the tapered fit of the material, but also, they’d been lucky that Ivan hadn’t done a thorough check.

He probably thought he hadn’t needed to; Wanda is as adept with a gun as the rest of the Family, but she isn’t typically armed.

It seems that Bucky has taken care of that himself.

“Enough,” Anton finally barks, shaking his head at Ivan before turning back to Steve. “Yet another example of how you Rogers have been a thorn in my side all these years.”

“Considering I didn’t even know who you were until a few months ago, it’s rather an impressive accomplishment to be under your skin for years,” Steve retorts. Anton may not be as reactive as Ivan, but Steve still knows how to piss Anton off. He’s pretty damn full of himself, and considering how long Joseph Rogers has known him, it’d be a definite bruise to Anton’s ego to know he hadn’t been worth mentioning, especially since Steve had already known most of the other Family members when he took his father’s place.

As long as Anton and Ivan are too focused on being pissed at Steve to notice that Wanda’s freed herself, all she’ll have to do is hold off until the right time.

Though Steve doesn’t know how easily that’ll come, if at all. It may just be Anton and Ivan inside the warehouse with them, but Steve knew he’d had a few men with him during the crash. Likely the handful of capos and soldiers loyal to him rather than to Howard, because there’s no way they’d go along with this kind of plan otherwise. It’d put their asses on the line, too, and Steve would hope that they’re sensible enough to know that both Anton and Ivan would throw them under the bus if Howard got wind of it.

Anton’s jaw ticks. “I’ve known you the least, but I’m pretty damn sure I’ll get the most enjoyment out of putting a bullet through your head.”

“Because I walked in and took the seat at the head of the Families that you’ve wanted all along?” Steve asks. “Or because I know you were the one stealing from Howard?”

It’s something Steve had a gut feeling about being true when it’d clicked into place in his mind, but the flash in Anton’s eyes is all the confirmation he needs. He manages to school his expression back into annoyance only a second later, but it’s more in vain than anything else. He knows Steve had caught his initial reaction.

And maybe that’s why he doesn’t completely deny it like Steve had still been expecting. “And what makes you say that?” Anton asks, still feigning annoyance.

“Howard is a cautious man when it comes to his legitimate businesses, and especially when it comes to Stark Industries,” Steve points out. “I can only imagine how much stricter he was when Stark Industries was getting off of the ground, and operating out of only one small building with a handful of employees should’ve meant he’d have no trouble keeping everything locked up tight. Not unless someone Howard trusted enough to give complete access without his monitoring was the one stealing,” Steve adds.

Anton’s eyes flash. “I’ve known Howard for years. He wouldn’t believe your word over mine.”

“He would if it made sense, which it does,” Steve counters. “Howard’s loyal, but not blindly loyal. And considering your son’s recklessness puts the Family’s ass in some kind of jeopardy almost every day, he’d have no problems cutting both of you out of the picture the second he gets a decent reason. Even if your secret dies with me, he’d still cut you off for trying to get rid of Pietro and Wanda, too.” This time Anton doesn’t attempt to hide his surprise, and in his peripheral, Steve catches his sister flinch, genuinely shocked.

Anton smirks, but the smugness from his eyes is gone. “Those incidents weren’t my doing,” he argues.

“Maybe not directly,” Steve counters. “It was an Asgard car spotted near both of those scenes at the time, and by every one of the Family’s busted deals and shipments, too. But if we dig just a little deeper, it’d be easy to find out that you and Ivan were the ones goading Hela into doing your dirty work.”

“She doesn’t need anyone to help fuel her crazy.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Steve agrees. “Which makes her a convenient person to pin the blame on, especially since the Family knows she has it out for my father. Dad was getting a lot closer to your secret. You knew he’d share his theories with his kids, too, so you needed a quick and permanent fix. Then my dad goes missing and you get your chance.”

Anton narrows his eyes. “You think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?” he questions, but there’s no real threat in his voice, and Steve knows his assumptions are right.

Before Steve can respond, though, Ivan snaps, “I’m getting sick of all this talking.” He draws his gun from the pocket inside his jacket, giving Steve a glimpse of his own gun hooked into Ivan’s holster at his hip. “Maybe we should test your theory of this secret dying with you,” he snarls. Steve simply blinks back at him, but then he catches Ivan’s gaze shift back to Wanda and Steve’s shoulders go rigid. Ivan smirks. “Or better yet, maybe we’ll start with your sister first. You won’t feel like such a smug ass then, huh?”

Ivan squats down and grasps Wanda by her neck, forcing her chin to tip up as he starts to dig his fingers into her throat—

And then a screech from outside. It’s muffled but unmistakable, and close. Maybe no more than a few dozen feet away.

Tires.

Ivan and Anton’s heads snap around toward the doors at the other end of the warehouse. “What the hell is that?” Ivan growls out, but Anton lets out a low hiss for him to shut up, one hand already reaching into his jacket for his gun as he takes a few steps closer, as if ready to head outside to check himself.

There are voices being raised from outside; the men Anton kept posted out there to keep watch start to shout over one another, their words muffled but the alarm ringing clear in their tones.

And then two harsh cracks rip through the air – gunshots – right before the sound of metal slamming together, colliding in a hard crash.

“Shit,” Ivan mutters, starting to get up, but then Wanda slips her arms out from behind her almost in a blink, knife in hand, and Ivan lets out a sudden groan as she thrusts the blade into him. He hisses, his hand going slack around his gun as he staggers back, and then Wanda is shoving him forward and sending him stumbling back into Anton as his weight knocks them both over. Another blink, and Wanda is lunging across the small distance, on her knees beside Steve and shoving him over as another shot goes off.

Steve groans, a jolt of pain shooting through his shoulder right before his side hits the ground, but he barely has a second to register it before Wanda is down on one knee in front of him, her body half-angled away from him just as Anton has gotten back onto his feet, lifting his gun to aim it in their direction.

For a fleeting second, Steve’s heart slams to stop against his ribcage—

And then Anton’s face twists into a sneer as he spits out, “You’re too much of a princess to pull that trigger,” at Wanda, and Steve’s eyes snap onto his sister. With the way he’d fallen and the way Wanda’s back is turned toward him, he hadn’t noticed the gun in her hand, pointed right back at Anton.

Ivan’s gun, Steve realizes. His gaze slides down and, sure enough, he finds Bucky’s knife still curled tightly in her other hand, only a little bit of blood actually smudged onto the blade from how quickly she’d pulled it out of Ivan’s chest.

“Go ahead, prove me right,” Anton goads. “You don’t have the balls to—”

He’s cut off as another crack rips through the air, and then he’s shouting, staggering down onto one knee, his gun falling from his hand and clattering onto the ground as he clutches at his shoulder with a hiss. Wanda shifts her body, arm swinging toward Ivan as he’s in the middle of staggering back up to his feet, and then another shot goes off and groans out, “fuck!” and clutches at his leg, his body hitting the ground once more. Wanda whirls back toward Steve, bending over him, and though the blade manages to nick his skin in her haste to slice the ropes from around his wrist, he barely notices. After getting grazed with one of Anton’s bullets, a little cut is hardly going to bother him.

Wanda is on her feet before Steve is, gun aimed at Anton once more as she gets her boot on his gun where it fell, sliding it back before he can attempt to retrieve it. Steve half-lunges across the small distance to Ivan, still clutching at his leg where Wanda shot him, and then Steve snatches his gun out of Ivan’s holster and aims it at him.

He turns his head, keeping Ivan in his peripheral as he looks at Wanda with his lips twitching at the corners. “Good aim.”

Wanda’s eyes twinkle. “I’m Clint’s best student for a reason,” she replies as the doors at the other end of the warehouse are thrown open, and then both of their gazes are whirling in that direction just as Bucky and Sam and a few officers burst through.

Steve very nearly slackens in relief, but he manages to keep his gun aimed at Ivan until one of the officers reaches him, producing a pair of handcuffs.

Wanda lowers her gun, too, just as Bucky reaches her, one hand reaching out to cup her cheek as his eyes dart over her almost wildly. A moment later, he exhales a breath, the tension ebbing from his body as he seems to confirm for himself that she isn’t hurt, and then he’s reaching down with his other hand to curl his fingers around hers where they’re still gripping the handle of the knife. His knife, stained with Ivan’s blood. His eyes glint. “Atta girl,” he murmurs, and then he’s drawing her close, slanting his lips over hers. Steve watches as Wanda’s body finally eases in relief, very nearly melting into Bucky as she sways forward, and he hooks an arm around her to keep them both steady.

Steve turns away to give them a moment, and then Sam is beside him, reaching up to touch the frayed line of his jacket where the bullet grazed him.

“Just a scratch?” Sam asks, one eyebrow arched as his lip hitches at the corner, and, despite everything, Steve breathes out a laugh.

“Barely a paper cut,” Steve returns, and Sam just shakes his head. “You guys got here pretty fast.”

Sam nods, gaze shifting onto Anton as two officers are snapping cuffs around his wrists and starting to lead him out of the warehouse. “We’ve had a tracker on Anton’s car for a few days now and we’ve been tailing him at a decent distance. The second it got cut off in the crash, our asses were on the move.”

Steve nods, but there’s something in Sam’s eyes that makes him pause. “What?” he asks, aware of the way Bucky and Wanda pull away from each other in his peripheral as Bucky tugs her closer to Steve’s side, his lips twitching into a grin.

“We’ve got something for you,” Bucky answers, nodding his head toward the doors.

Steve catches his sister’s curious gaze, exchanging a look before Bucky is gently urging her forward with a hand on the small of her back, and Steve follows the two of them out of the warehouse with Sam. There are already several patrol cars parked along the fence that’d been put up by the construction company, officers in the midst of loading Ivan and Anton and their men into the back seats, and what few pedestrians happen to be walking in the area are already starting to pause to try and see what’s happening.

It isn’t until Steve’s gaze finds a familiar car at the end of the fence, though, that he realizes why Sam and Bucky had been grinning so hard.

Dad.

... ...

Our mother.

Natasha’s fingers tighten around the necklace in her hand, so much so that she can feel the charm starting to dig into her palm, but she barely flinches. Her stare stays fixed on Yuri, searching his face for any small shift in his expression, any small twitch or tell that may give away the fact that he’s bluffing—but that smirk sits perfectly in place and the smug gleam in his eyes never wavers. Rationally, she knows that this doesn’t automatically mean he’s telling the truth. She has a pretty damn good poker face, too, and she can count on one hand the number of times someone had picked up on it when she was bluffing. Even then, they hadn’t been entirely sure if she was actually lying or not.

But she can feel her chest tightening, and her instinct tells her that something about his story makes sense.

She’s always found her parents’ story odd, and though Yelena’s explanation would’ve cleared a lot of it, Natasha knew something was still off. Something was missing. Why would her mother join a mob so that she, Joseph, and Alia could keep each other safe and yet sleep with the man her best friend married? The very same one she wanted to protect Alia from? And Natasha knows she looks like her father, like her Uncle Howard and Tony and Peter. It’s been said countless times that she has the Stark stamp to her.

Belatedly, her conversation with Steve comes back to her and how he apologized for getting upset when she hid “Sarah Rogers” from him. He told her he would’ve done the same thing, would’ve waited before telling Natasha something that could upset her because it was about her mother.

I just want to be sure, he told her.

This was what he’d been hesitant to tell her. Maybe he didn’t put together the exact truth, but he’d already suspected that her mother wasn’t her birth mother.

“I suppose you expect me to just take your word for it,” Natasha replies, managing to keep her voice steady despite the way her heart is starting to pound against her ribcage.

Yuri sits up a little straighter, lifting his eyebrows. “Perhaps I should have invited Melina to join us and tell you herself.”

Natasha lets out a light, almost nonchalant him in reply, even as her fist curls even tighter around the necklace still in her hand, and she knows she’s managed to catch him off guard by her lack of reaction to his threat because there’s a fleeting shift of uncertainty in his eyes. Then he blinks and that smug, knowing gleam is back in place.

“I’m surprised you didn’t consider it to begin with, after going through all this trouble to come here to convince me of the truth in person.” Natasha quirks an eyebrow at him. “Unless, of course, you have another reason for coming to an entirely different country to meet someone who could only supposedly be your family.”

He nearly bares his teeth in a dangerous grin. “You really don’t enjoy games, do you, dear sister?” he drawls. “It’s almost as if you’re trying to rush this along. Of course, if I were you, I would be eager to get to my date tonight as well. With Rogers, correct?” He reaches for the bottle of vodka again and then leans forward to retrieve Natasha’s shot glass, his eyes glinting as he catches her stare. “Like mother, like daughter, after all. I’m told that our mother was quite fond of Joseph Rogers. I’m sure I would’ve heard all about him if not for the way my father got particularly violent whenever Joseph Rogers was ever breathed. It’s quite tragic that he went missing a few months ago, isn’t it?”

Natasha studies his expression for a moment, and, possibly for the first time since he began speaking, she knows he’s bluffing.

His tone is suggestive, and threatening, wanting her to believe he’s in on the secret of how Joseph Rogers had gone missing, or maybe that he’d been involved somehow.

But he wouldn’t be here if he knew the truth. Even if he’s cold enough not to care about someone planning to kill his own father, Ivan dying while Yuri is overseas won’t make it easy for Yuri to take control of the mob if he makes it back to Russia. Not if there are already more than enough people that want him gone.

Maybe she doesn’t need to stall. Maybe she can distract him herself.

“Oh, you don’t expect me to believe that you listen to the rumors,” Natasha counters, letting her voice lilt in amusement—and, sure enough, there’s a flash of uncertainty in his eyes at her reaction. He slides her shot glass back over and she picks it up, letting a secretive smile curl at her lips. “But I will say this, your acting is quite convincing.”

She downs her shot without waiting for him to finish pouring his, licking her lips, and his jaw ticks. “And here I thought you don’t like playing games.”

Natasha tilts her head, arching an eyebrow. “And what game is it that you think I’m playing?”

Yuri smirks, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “I’m sure it doesn’t do well for your reputation that the head of the Families went missing at all, let alone for this long and without any leads,” he muses. “But there’s no need to keep up pretenses for me.” She simply hums as he sets the bottle of vodka down on the table between them, letting her lips curve into a smug, knowing smirk of her own, not so much as blinking when he holds her stare, and she can see exactly when he realizes that she may not be bluffing.

He blinks twice, working to keep his expression unaffected. “Alright. I’ll humor you, dear sister. If Joseph Rogers hasn’t been missing all this time, where is he?”

Natasha leans in closer to the table between them, nearly perched on the very edge of the couch. “Tell me, baby brother,” she starts, her smirk widening when she catches the way his jaw ticks, “why I should divulge that when you haven’t even admitted that you’ve come here to kill me. I’ve never even stepped foot in Russia and yet, I’m a threat to you, aren’t I?” She leans in even closer, catching the way Yelena draws closer to Yuri from behind, too, as is protective. “If it’s a choice between you and me, I’m the best bet. A mafia princess to the underground and a Stark princess to the world. I can offer them everything, but you and your father are nothing but liabilities they’re eager to cut out.”

A growl nearly rips from Yuri’s throat, his composure quickly slipping through his fingers. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”

“No,” she replies, her voice dropping to a low, staged whisper. “I only pretend to,” she says, glancing over his shoulder to catch Yelena’s gaze, and the woman gives her a barely discernable nod right before she has her gun up, firing two shots – one each for the two men standing at the doors of the suite.

Natasha doesn’t have to look back to check to see if they hit, nor does she have time to, because just as Yuri starts to turn around, Natasha’s hand wraps around the neck of the bottle of vodka and she’s swinging it hard, slamming it up into Yuri’s jaw with as much force as she can muster at such a close range.

Yuri keels over as Natasha is on her feet, twisting her body around as she flings the bottle toward the two men standing to her left. There are also two more men to her right that could have a chance to shoot at her, but as she gets a running start, she catches a glimpse of the two guys that’d been posted behind Yelena dropping to the floor as she whirls around, gun pointed, so Natasha doesn’t worry about what’s behind her as she sprints forward, dropping to the ground right as one of them manages to get their gun up. He gets a shot off, but Natasha is already sliding across the carpet, swiping her legs under the other guy – the one already staggering back from being hit with the bottle of vodka – before spinning back around and onto her feet, and then she grabs the other guy by his jacket, yanking him down and sending his head cracking against her knee.

She swipes one of their guns out of their hands and whirls around, aiming it at where Yuri had been in the same second that Yelena does—

But Yuri is already up and over the couch and bounding out the suite, the doors slamming closed behind him, and Yelena exhales a curse under her breath as she lowers her gun and catches Natasha’s gaze.

“As soon as he caught me, he knew he’d be outnumbered when it came down to the three of us,” Yelena tells her. “But if the others are still in the hallway when we leave this suite, we’ll be outnumbered. If even half of the men stayed, that’s too much heat for us to take, and there’s no other way out of this suite.”

“Well, if he makes it out of this hotel, he’ll come after both of us and my family, too,” Natasha counters.

Yelena rubs her lips together, considering this for a moment, and then she swears under her breath again. “Let’s go,” she says, and Natasha swallows lightly, crossing the room and meeting Yelena at the door. “Any plan?” she asks.

Despite herself, Natasha lets out a humorless laugh. “Try not to die?”

Yelena nearly cracks a smile. “Your plan sucks,” she retorts, and then they’re both tugging at the handles, throwing the doors open and stepping into the hallway, and Natasha whirls around to stand with her back to Yelena’s as she points her gun at—

“Mom,” Natasha breathes out, her heart nearly slamming to a stop against her ribcage as she lowers her gun. Her mother lowers her gun, too, and her composed expression dissolves into relief. Natasha’s eyes flit over her shoulder and down the hallway, her father already lowering his own gun as he makes his way over to them, and then, right in front of the door to the stairwell, Uncle Howard and Nick Fury are watching as Thor and Odin are shoving someone over the threshold and maneuvering him down the stairs.

Yuri.

Natasha nearly sways back on her feet as she feels the relief flood through her, her eyes shifting back to her mother. “You got him?” she asks, even though she already knows the answer. She still wants to hear it, though.

“Yes,” her mother tells her, her voice soft. “If you had waited a few more minutes, we would’ve saved you from all the excitement.”

“She wouldn’t be our daughter if she preferred less excitement,” her father quips, coming to stand beside them. Natasha exhales a sharp, breathy sort of laugh as her mother reaches for her, drawing her close—and though she and her parents have never been the kind to prefer hugs, it’s almost instant, the way she melts into the embrace.

... ...

Wanda must’ve seen their father a split second before Steve had, because just as Steve’s mind is starting to catch up to the fact that that’s him – that his father is here, after being gone for so months – Wanda lets out a shaky, sharp, breathy sound, and then she starts running, quickly crossing the distance to the gate at the corner of the fence as their father gets it open. She throws herself at him in a hug that quite literally knocks him back a few steps, but his arms go around her, too, as his deep laugh fills the air.

Steve takes his time making his way over, feeling himself smile as he watches his father brushes a kiss to Wanda’s hair, murmuring something to her that makes her giggle and press her face into his shoulder. Then his eyes shift, watching through the fence as Pietro gets out of their father’s car and starts heading toward their father and sister. He catches Steve’s gaze, lifting his hand in a wave, and Steve’s smile widens, relieved his brother doesn’t seem any worse for wear considering he just got out of the hospital.

“Bet you didn’t see this coming!” Pietro calls out, and their father lifts his head, his eyes wrinkling into a brighter smile when they land on Steve.

Wanda turns to look over her shoulder at him, too, her eyelashes dotted with tears she hasn’t quite shed yet. His sister’s smile is small and shaky, but beautiful and relieved and so fucking happy, and then she steps back from their father, practically ducking under his arm to squeeze Pietro in a hug the second he’s within her reach.

“Steve,” his father greets, his voice low and gruff. The two of them had never been particularly affectionate with each other, not in the same way his siblings are, but it was never something Steve held any resentment towards him for. His father raised the twins mostly on his own, while Steve didn’t even meet his father until after high school, and anytime they’ve spent together since then, they’ve had the twins as a buffer. He and his father are closer now, but there had still been some lingering space between them.

Still, somehow Steve isn’t all that surprised when his father doesn’t hesitate to grasp at Steve’s shoulder, pulling him in for a hug as well.

Steve blinks, his chest tightening, but he doesn’t miss a beat in returning his father’s embrace. It doesn’t linger quite as long as his hug with Wanda had, but his father still gives him one last sort of squeeze before pulling away, one hand still lingering on Steve’s shoulder.

And this time, Steve is surprised when he catches the cracks in his father’s usually nonchalant expression. Considering who the man is, Steve had always seen his father as formidable and unyielding. Sure, Steve knew firsthand that the man had a soft side for his children, but for the most part, his composure never wavered.

“Welcome home,” Steve tells him, his voice a little rough. “How was your trip?”

His father’s eyes glint. “Good,” he answers simply, and it should be strange, how that one word seems to make the air shift. He turns to Wanda and Pietro as Wanda blinks up at him, her eyes wide and glimmering. “It was really good,” he tells them, the meaning clear in his tone. “But I much prefer to be home.”

“I take it that means you don’t have plans to be anywhere else anytime soon?” Steve asks.

His father squeezes his shoulder firmly, his lips hitching up into a wider smile—and, for a fleeting second, Steve almost sees his own face smiling back at him, making his chest squeeze in a way he hasn’t felt since his mother had passed.

“No,” his father promises, shaking his head once. “I’m right where I need to be.”

“Well, if you ever did decide to take another vacation,” Pietro chimes in, his lips spreading into a wide grin as he glances at Steve, “we can hold down the fort.”

Wanda breathes out a laugh, her smile bright, proud, and when Steve catches his father’s stare once more, he sees the same emotion reflected in his eyes. “I’ve always known that,” he says, and Steve feels his chest squeeze again, his own smile widening because he’s starting to realize that maybe he always had, too.

... ...

Her uncle stays behind at the hotel to handle things with Nick and Odin, and though Uncle Howard asks Natasha if she wants to have a say in what they do with Yuri and his men, she promises her uncle that she won’t come up with something nearly as creative as he can. Besides, she knows that the Family likes to take their time in dealing with anyone that’s threatened one of their own, and Natasha doesn’t want to waste another ounce of her energy on Yuri if she can help it. And she’s willing to bet it will drive him crazy to be told that he’d gone through all of this effort to come after her himself when she doesn’t even want to be there to watch while the Family has their fun with him.

“I know today has been exciting and all, so I thought I’d make one of your favorites,” her father says, and it’s almost instant, the grin that pulls at Natasha’s lips when he slides over a double shot of vodka poured into a wine glass. Part of her wonders if she should find the choice of alcohol ironic, all things considered, but as she picks up the glass, swirling it around as if it were actually wine, she doesn’t think of sharing shots of vodka with Yuri in that hotel suite. Instead, she thinks about the first ever time her father had poured her vodka in a wine glass just like this, when she first moved into this apartment out of college and her parents had come over to help her get settled in.

He’d joked about it being a celebration of both of her heritages, when in reality, they simply hadn’t wanted to open every box until they found her shot glasses.

“How sentimental,” her mother notes, amusement pulling at her own smile.

Her father tips his head, considering this. “I have my moments,” he admits, reaching into his pocket, and Natasha watches as he pulls out the thin, silver necklace that she’d held earlier that night, setting it carefully on the kitchen island between them, his expression softening.

Melina picks it up gently, threading the chain through her fingers and lifting it to let the engraved bar dangle for her to read.

Natasha watches her mother, remembering the way she and Alia—Natalia—had looked in that photograph she and Steve had found among his father’s things. It had to have been taken after Joseph Rogers, Alia, and her mother had joined the mob since Alexi was in the photo, too, and yet, Alia looked content. She looked happy because she was with the people she loved most, and that was enough to make her feel as carefree as she’d looked in that photo, even if her life had been anything but that because of Ivan.

“Is there any truth to that?” Natasha asks gently, nodding at the necklace in her mother’s hand, though it’s not really a question. The expression on both of her parents’ faces is more than enough proof.

Her mother catches her gaze, her smile soft. “Yes,” she answers simply, reaching over to tuck some of Natasha’s hair behind her ear. “You’re my last piece of her.”

Natasha feels something warm tug at her chest, and then she turns to her father. “How did you all meet?”

“Because of Joseph,” her father replies. Natasha lifts her eyebrows slightly in surprise; she hadn’t expected that. “By now, I assume you and Steve both know the truth about him and Alia and your mother?” her father asks.

She nods, glancing at her mother. “We found an old picture of you with some of his things.”

Her mother’s smile widens just a little as she sets the necklace back down, untangling the chain from her fingers. “The three of us had known each other since childhood,” her mother explains. “Alia had the biggest heart and wore it on her sleeve, but that was a dangerous thing in our world. Ivan wanted her the moment he saw her, but it was clear to everyone that Joseph and I were the only ones she cared for. She always blamed herself for Ivan wanting to get rid of Joseph, and she was never the same after he left.”

“Joseph was the reason your uncle and I went to Russia in the first place,” her father adds. “He couldn’t risk going back, but when Howard and Maria were having problems and needed space, Joseph asked Howard and I to go to Russia just to check on his old friends. He never stopped worrying about them, but also, he could tell that Howard needed some objective to keep his mind busy.” Her father’s eyes shift to her mother’s, his lips quirking. “Your mother was actually the one to introduce me to Alia,” he says.

Natasha turns to her mother, her own amusement tugging at her lips. “Really?”

Her mother chuckles. “He and your uncle didn’t quite do a good job at hiding how they studied us at the bar,” her mother tells her. “I didn’t know at the time it was because of Joseph. I just knew that Alia had been having a particularly hard time lately and could use a charming stranger to comfort her.”

“We actually left Russia shortly after, but your mother tracked us down when Alia found out she was pregnant,” her father continues. “She hadn’t been engaged to Ivan by then, and your uncle and I snuck the two of them away. But Ivan was far too possessive to let Alia go, and Howard and I hadn’t been prepared to handle this kind of threat away from home.” His eyebrows furrow, the frustration of the memory flashing in his eyes. “Alexi was able to warn us that Ivan finally found her after Alia had given birth.”

“She wanted your father to take you to keep you safe.” Her mother gives her a small, wry sort of smile. “She wanted me to go with him. Ivan only wanted her. He stopped searching for Joseph because he was no longer in his way, and he wouldn’t care if I was gone, either. If she had come with us, he would’ve stopped at nothing to find her and drag her back. She didn’t want to put anyone through that, and she absolutely didn’t want you to be raised like that, always on the run, hiding. She begged us to save you.”

“The moment we brought you home, Joseph recognized her in your face,” her father says, voice soft. “Everyone says how much you look like me, but you look like her, too. You just have to know where to find it.”

Natasha feels herself smile, feels a warmth fluttering in her chest as she thinks back to the photograph they’d found among Joseph’s things. It’s a little odd to think that she hadn’t recognized her own face in Alia, even when Alia had been so much younger in that picture, but part of her liked that it hadn’t been something so obvious. Her likeness to her birth mother, just like the secret itself, was something you have to know to see—something that makes a difference but doesn’t change everything about Natasha’s life.

It doesn’t change who her mother is. It simply gives her another woman to admire.

“I wish I could’ve met her,” Natasha says quietly, and her father comes around the island, cups the back of Natasha’s neck as he brushes a kiss to her forehead.

He doesn’t say the words – neither of her parents do – but Natasha knows the feeling is mutual. She also knows that there wouldn’t have been a way for that to happen, even if Alia was still alive. Not as long as Ivan was alive, too.

A knock at the door makes her father draw away slightly, glancing at Natasha, and, despite everything, she feels her lips twitch in a grin. The only people other than her parents who have ever had her codes to the apartment before are Uncle Howard and Tony, and neither of them would’ve let themselves in at the lobby only to knock on her front door. Then her father blinks, amusement glinting in his eyes as he realizes who it could be, and she rubs her lips together to fight off a smile as he goes to answer it.

And no, she’s not at all surprised when Steve is in her kitchen a moment later, his gaze finding hers within seconds.

“Nat,” he breathes as he crosses the distance to her in a few steps, cupping her face with his hands as his eyes flit over her, checking for himself to see that she’s alright.

Then he exhales a sharp breath, his body easing in relief, and Natasha feels herself smiling as he slants his mouth over hers. The kiss is hard and deep in an instant, and she almost feels herself swaying back atop the barstool with the force of it. He sucks on her bottom lip, thumbs brushing over her cheeks, down the line of her jaw, drawing a soft noise from her throat, and then she hears someone (likely her father) clearing their throat. Steve chuckles as he eases his lips off of hers, parting their kiss and pulling back.

“I’m alright,” she reassures softly, reaching up to wrap her hands around his wrists, giving him a gentle squeeze as if in emphasis.

Over his shoulder, she catches her mother getting up from her barstool, walking toward the threshold of the kitchen – and that’s when she notices Joseph Rogers filling the doorway, reaching for her mother and pulling her into his arms in a hug.

Natasha feels her chest flutter, the warmth of relief at seeing Joseph Rogers alive and home mixing with the bittersweet twinge of knowing what he and her mother are offering each other comfort for. Natasha’s throat tightens a little, her chest tightening, and then Steve is stroking his thumbs over her cheeks in slow, soothing strokes, and her eyes flit up to his. She doesn’t have to ask to know that his father must’ve filled him in on the truth of her and Alia because she can see it in his eyes, just as she knows that the empathy there isn’t just for her. It’s for his father and for her parents, and for Alia, for the hope that they could’ve reunited one day, no matter how slim the chance.

“Come here,” Steve murmurs, pulling his hands from her face so he can wrap his arms around her, drawing her close—and she doesn’t quite realize how overwhelmed she is until her eyes are closed and her face is pressed against his chest, blocking everything else out other than his steady breaths and the soothing circles he rubs over her back.

... ...

It’s late by the time they make it back to his place, but he’s still wide awake as he lays next to Nat in bed. She’d come back with him rather than the two of them crashing at her apartment since they were already there, and he knows it’s because she wanted him to be close to Pietro, just in case. His brother is supposed to be watched for the next few days, anyway, and since Wanda and Pietro had already taken to sleeping at his brownstone rather than their own apartments for the last few days, Steve doesn’t see a point in switching things up. It’s hardly a bother to have them under his roof, and after having the place all to himself for so long, he likes that it feels less empty these days.

He starts to slip out of bed when he feels Natasha reach for him, her fingers curling around his forearm as he’s sitting up, and he smiles down at her in the dark. Even though he’s not tired, he knows she is, because she’d passed out almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. Still, part of him had expected her to wake up as soon as he moved.

She’s always been attuned to him like that.

“I’m just going to drink something warm to help me sleep,” he tells her softly, leaning over to brush his lips to her cheek, running a hand over her side through the duvet.

“Do you want me to come with you?” she asks, her voice heavy and a little raspy with sleep, and he feels his smile widen as he peers down at her in the dark. She’s practically still half asleep, but he’s not surprised at all that she still offers to get up with him. He knows she had quite a day, but she knows he did, too.

“No, it’s okay,” he reassures, sliding his lips lower, pressing a kiss to the spot along her jaw that always, always makes her shiver, and she makes this little noise from the back of her throat. “Sleep,” he murmurs against her skin, and she chuckles softly, barely above a whisper, as she curls into herself a little more and hums in reply.

He clicks his door shut softly behind him when he steps out into the hallway, quietly padding past Wanda and Pietro’s doors as he heads downstairs. He can see that the kitchen light is already on, which likely means his father is still up, and, sure enough, Steve finds him sitting at the kitchen island with a mug of tea sitting on the counter in front of him. His father has his head bent over his phone in front of him, but considering the screen is off when he lifts his head to look at Steve, he was probably just lost in thought. Steve doesn’t blame him. It’s probably the reason the man is up at all, just as Steve is, which is likely why his father doesn’t seem surprised to see him up, too.

The kettle is still hot when Steve picks it up, so he pours some in a mug and grabs a packet of chamomile tea from the box that Wanda keeps stocked in his pantry.

“So, you and Nat, huh?” his father asks once Steve is sitting in the barstool next to his, and a laugh bursts from Steve as he tears at the packet, dunking the tea bag into his mug. His father chuckles, too, shaking his head a little at himself, and maybe also at the strangeness of the moment. Not because it’s the two of them talking alone, when that hasn’t really happened much before, but because, out of all the things he could’ve asked about after the last few hours – hell, after the last few months – this is what he picks.

“Yeah,” Steve says, and maybe he should feel like an idiot for smiling so widely, but he honestly doesn’t care and he knows his father doesn’t, either.

In fact, his father’s mouth hitches as his smile widens a little, too. But his eyes soften a little as he asks, “How’s she holding up?”

Steve pauses as he considers this, toying with the string of the tea bag hanging over the rim of his mug. He thinks about the way Natasha had held onto him in her kitchen when he’d pulled her against his chest, squeezing him close but yet not quite clinging to him, either. “I think maybe it hasn’t entirely hit her just yet,” he admits, because he thinks that’s the truth. She hadn’t seemed particularly shocked when they had dinner at her apartment with their parents; she simply seemed tired, and maybe a little distracted, like she couldn’t help her thoughts pulling her away from the conversation every now and then. “But I don’t think her entire world has been knocked out of place.”

His father nods at this. Considering he’s known Natasha her whole life, he’d probably know how to interpret her reactions pretty damn well, too.

“Honestly, I didn’t think it would be,” his father tells him, rubbing a hand over his hair. “But we didn’t want to minimize how big of a secret it was to keep from her, either.”

We. As in, him and Melina and Edward, maybe even Howard and Maria, too, since Steve doubts Howard would’ve kept this from his wife this entire time.

“Why did you and Melina pretend not to have known each other from before?” Steve asks. It’s not an accusation, and he knows his father won’t take it as one, and though Steve already has an idea of the answer, he figures he might as well ask, anyway, now that all of this is out in the open.

“I think it was instinct, mostly.” His father’s smile turns a little wry as he looks at Steve. “We’d gotten pretty good at downplaying how close we were with each other and with Alia back in Russia, even before Ivan started actively threatening me. When Edward brought her to New York and I saw her again after all those years, it was like a reflex. I’d missed her—missed both of them—but there really wouldn’t be a reason for me to have known a woman who’d never stepped foot in the States before. The Family knew I was adopted, but not from where. Your grandparents kept it under lock and key because Ivan was on a manhunt, and even after he’d stopped, we didn’t want to risk any slip ups.”

Steve nods at this. “Did you ever plan on telling her, or any of us?”

“We debated on it for years,” his father admits with an exhale. “It made sense not to when you were all younger, but there were several times later on that could’ve been right that we just didn’t say anything. I don’t think it was any one thing or any one reason. But it was more about how we felt about it and about bringing it up. You all had the right to know the truth, especially when it could’ve put you in danger, just like Natasha had been today. That’s on us,” his father adds, swallowing roughly with a shake of his head.

“Dad,” Steve says, his voice low and a little rough, too. “It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault.”

He’s not just saying that to comfort his father, but because Steve genuinely believes it. Yeah, his father had a point; if he’d never sent Yelena to warn them before Yuri got to New York, they wouldn’t have had an edge over him.

But the truth had come out when they needed it, not when it was too late to help anyone, and it was so much more than just keeping Natasha’s birth mother or keeping his father’s past a secret from their own children. His father had to flee the only home and the only family he’d ever known at only thirteen because a man almost twice his age was threatened by his friendship with the girl he wanted, and Melina had to leave her best friend behind, knowing she would’ve likely been dead once Ivan found her. And it wasn’t just that, either. Melina must’ve been terrified of what Ivan would do to Alia for running in the first place, but Alia begged her to keep her daughter safe, and so Melina honored her plea. Even Edward, who had only known Alia for a short while, had to have been affected at leaving the mother of his child behind right after she’d given birth.

If telling the truth meant having to relive those memories, Steve would’ve been incredibly hesitant of it, too. That’s not something he or Nat, or Wanda or Pietro, would hold against their parents.

“Your mother knew, though,” his father adds after a moment, and Steve feels his heart trip in his chest as he stares back at his father. “She was the first to meet Melina.”

Steve feels his eyebrows furrow at this. He’s a few years older than Natasha, but not by much, which meant… “I thought you’d stopped seeing me and Mom by then?”

His father nods. “I had. We thought it would be safer, not just because of the Family, but also because I never knew for sure if Ivan was still looking for me. I also knew it was a lot for your mother to take in general, even if she’d never say it. She never would’ve asked to keep you away from me, but I knew she needed it to be that way, at least for a little while.” He rubs his lips together, looking Steve in the eyes as he adds, “I know that wasn’t a choice I should’ve made for her, for you. And to this day, I still wonder if it was the wrong one. I knew your mother was a tough person, tougher than both of us, but maybe I’d underestimated what she was willing to bear for me,” he admits quietly.

Steve doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until it comes out in a sharp exhale. “You thought she wouldn’t want to handle this life?” Steve asks.

His father rubs at his jaw, seeming to contemplate this. “I wondered a lot of things. Your mother was too good for this world from the beginning, but she’d also known who I was when we met. She’d chosen to trust me, and I respected her and her choice. I loved her. But I knew it all bothered her to some extent, especially when you came along.”

Steve swallows lightly. He’d like to believe his mother could’ve handled anything, but he also knows firsthand that this world is a lot at first glance. It’s still a lot once you’re on the inside, too, but his mother had been young and had her child to think of. She genuinely loved his father, but that didn’t mean she had to love his lifestyle, too.

And he knows his mother. If she let his father convince her that keeping Steve and herself from him and the Family was for the best, it was because part of her had believed it, too. If she wanted to raise Steve in this lifestyle for whatever reason that may have been, she would’ve fought her father like hell to stay and she would’ve won, too.

Like he said: she was tougher than both of them.

“How did she meet Melina, then?” Steve asks after a moment, already feeling a smile tug at his lips. He knows without a doubt his mother probably loved Melina.

She would’ve loved Natasha, too.

“By pure chance, actually,” his father answers, his own smile widening, too, as he glances down into his tea at the memory. “Your mother recognized Melina from the photograph I had and knew of her from the stories I told her, and we happened to run into each other in Brooklyn. It was the one and only time your mother and I had approached each other since we agreed to keep our distance. And they loved each other, of course, but I knew they would. You’d think they were the childhood friends.”

Steve chuckles at this, feeling a warmth squeeze at his chest. Somehow, he could almost picture the memory perfectly.

“Your mother and Alia would’ve loved each other, too,” his father adds, his smile softening as Steve stares back at him. “And Alia would’ve loved you.”

Steve reaches over, placing a hand on his father’s shoulder, and his father lifts his hand to grip Steve’s. “I would’ve loved her, too,” Steve says, giving him a squeeze, and his father lets out a breathy laugh as he nods.

... ...

She can feel Steve’s hand at her hip, his fingers calloused yet gentle and teasing as they toy with the hem of his shirt on her. Natasha had rolled onto her back sometime during the night, her shoulder practically pressing against Steve’s chest, and she feels her lips pull into a soft smile as he inches her shirt higher up her body, making her stomach flutter just under his palm when he splays his fingers over her skin. Then he dips his head to press a kiss to her cheek, her jaw, the column of her neck, feeling her pulse thrum under his lips, and she makes a soft noise when he hand dips down, fingers slipping under the waistband of her panties and pulling them down over one hip.

“Steve,” she breathes, feeling his mouth curve into a grin against her collarbone, and then his fingers hook under the other side of her panties, too, pulling them down her legs and then off entirely.

“Good morning,” he says into her skin, and she feels her smile widen, feels him nudge her legs open as his body slides down hers. He pushes her shirt up a little higher, kisses over one of her ribs, brushes his lips against an old scar on her other hip, and then his face is pressed against the inside of one of her thighs, lips quirking into a smile.

Her eyelashes flutter open as she lifts herself up on her elbows, glancing down to where Steve is settled between her legs, pressing one into the mattress as he pulls the other over his shoulders. She can already feel her breaths coming in a little shorter and shallower, feel her heart beating a little faster, even as a slow, almost lazy sort of smirk pulls at her lips as she meets his gaze. His mouth is hitched in that crooked, boyish sort of smile she’s come to love, but there’s nothing teasing about the heavy look in his eyes.

Under the darkening arousal, she can see the pure adoration in his gaze, reflecting her own. She knows, realistically, it’s only been a few days—but she can’t really remember what it was like to wake up without Steve beside her, to fall asleep to his large, warm body curling over hers, and she doesn’t want to remember, either.

“Good morning,” she breathes, reaching down to cup his jaw, rubbing her thumb against the corner of his mouth as it widens just a little more.

Then he’s dipping down, licking into where she’s warm and already a little wet for him, and she sucks in a breath, trapping it in her chest as her eyelashes flutter. She keeps her hand on his jaw, rubbing the budding stubble there, feeling it flex with every pass of his tongue against her, every little groan and lick and nibble, and it almost makes it feel heightened, somehow. She’s not quite holding onto him, but still, it feels as if he presses in closer at the exact moment her fingers twitch to drag him in, feels as if his licks linger when his tongue slides over a particularly sensitive spot that has her hand trembling to twist into his hair. She keeps her gaze on him as her vision grows blurry and her eyelids grow heavy, and then his eyes lick up to hers, sucking at her little bundle of nerves, and her head almost falls back as her body gently arches off of the bed.

He sucks at it again, her elbow nearly sliding out from under her, and then his tongue dips down and into her, and her lips part in a soft moan. And then his lips slide back up before she can find a rhythm, teasing her, tongue flicking against her hard bud right before he sucks it again, and she twists her neck to press her face into the pillow.

Again, and again, and again he works his mouth over her, groaning with her every little shift, sending delicious vibrations everywhere as she arches and rolls her hips—

And she doesn’t know if this morning feels different because of what happened yesterday, or if they feel different, but already it feels like too much, too fast, and she practically smothers herself with his pillow to muffle her voice as she bursts apart at the seams. White-hot pleasure crashes over her, rushing through her as he holds her to him, and she twists one hand into his sheets, the other braced against his headboard as she rides out her high and he coaxes every last drop of it out of her with a long groan.

Then he eases his mouth off of her, sliding his hands gently up and down her thighs, over her hips, almost soothing her as she shudders delicately from the pleasure. He kisses up her flushed skin, his lips brushing against almost every inch of it along the way, letting her catch her breath as he settles back over her.

He presses his face into her neck as she wraps her arms around his torso, kissing her there, too, and she lightly digs her nails into the muscles in his back.

“Good morning,” he says again, drawing a breathy chuckle from her that quickly dissolves into moan as she feels him between their bodies, hard and pressing right against her little bundle of nerves. His hand curves over her hip, gripping as he presses at her entrance, and then her body arches as best as it can under his as he slides in. She sinks her nails into his back a little harder as he sinks into her a little deeper, pausing as he slips all the way, and then his other hand is braced against the mattress, his mouth slanting over hers as he starts to move, and she very nearly whimpers into the kiss as he sweeps his tongue into her mouth at the same second he snaps his hips harder against hers.

They try to be slow at first, to savor it, but within seconds their kiss quickens, and then so do their bodies as they move against each other. Her chest squeezes, her lungs starting to sting just a little bit because she needs to take a breath, but she doesn’t pull away, not yet.

Not until a few moments later, when her second orgasm bursts through her, almost taking her by surprise as she twists her lips away from his to suck in a shaky breath. Pleasure rushes through her again, a little harder and a little faster now, her lips parting in a moan that seems trapped in her chest as she shudders under the white-hot waves crashing over her. He kisses her cheek, her neck, her shoulder, groaning words into her skin that she can’t quite hear over the blood pounding in her ears, but then she feels his body growing taut above hers, his hips growing more urgent, until he stiffens and buries his face into her neck, teeth sinking into her skin as his groans out in his release.

It’s a long, few moments before Natasha feels her breaths finally start to even out, feels his body finally start to ease above her, and then his tongue darts out, licking at the indent of his teeth in her skin before he lifts his head to peer down at her.

“A girl could get used to a wake-up call like that,” she breathes out, and even though her voice is light and teasing, she knows there’s something more in her own words.

And she knows that Steve can hear it, too, because the warmth fluttering in her chest is reflected in his eyes as he smiles down at her. He replies with a teasing, “I’ll keep that in mind,” but she can hear the promise in his voice, and she’s smiling when he dips his head down to kiss her.

... ...

“Hey, soldier,” a voice whispers in his ear, warm and teasing, and Steve feels his lips twitch into a grin as Natasha slides onto the stool beside his, setting an empty glass on the bar counter. He spins his barstool to face her, rubs his lips together in vain to hide his amusement, but even if he could manage a poker face around Nat, she’d still see it in his eyes that he doesn’t find her new little joke as annoying as he sometimes pretends. Somehow, she’d decided that his father being back to take over as head of the Family meant that Steve was no more than a soldier now, or less, considering he wasn’t technically a “made” man, and honestly? Steve is far more amused by how much delight Natasha takes in her own joke than the actual joke itself. “Can I buy a man a drink?” she asks, setting her hands atop his knees to lean in and brush a kiss to his lips.

“The drinks are free,” Steve points out, arching an eyebrow, and Natasha smirks, her eyes bright with amusement.

He remembers how she’d had that same twinkle in her eyes when they first met right in this restaurant, almost at this very spot at the bar just a few months ago. The place had been closed that day, too, though rather than catching it between the lunch and dinner rush, the restaurant is closed for the rest of the night.

And technically speaking, it’s closed for them, though Steve is starting to realize that the Family will find any and every excuse to gather together and celebrate.

“Shouldn’t you two be over there?” Pietro chimes in from behind the bar, pouring more water into Natasha’s empty glass before gesturing at the dining room filled with the rest of the Family, loud with excited chatter and the sound of the kids screaming. “Of course, if Howard is retelling how he kicked Anton’s ass, I’d be hiding here, too.”

Steve breathes out a laugh. Over a month later and both Howard and Tony still manage to bring up the story of officially kicking Anton and Ivan out of the state—hell, damn near out of the country—but then again, considering Anton had been a fundamental part of Stark Industries from the ground up, Steve doubts Howard will get over it anytime soon, or ever. Even if Howard had only really tolerated Anton these last few years, knowing that he had been betrayed for so long was a hard thing to get over. Howard may be more pissed than anything else right now, but some part of him is upset, too, just as Odin and Frigga must have been upset that Hela had been behind all the ambushes.

Steve half-expected Odin to argue against banning Hela from New York, but he had practically demanded to do it himself. Odin had been furious with his daughter, but at the end of the day, she’s still his daughter, and it’s probably easier for Odin to focus on her betrayal and her recklessness more than anything else.

“It’s a good story,” Sam comments, dropping into the stool on the other side of Nat, pulling Maria between his knees as she sips on the tumbler of rum in her hand.

“You only like it because you’re in it,” Maria retorts, and Sam hides his grin against her shoulder as she rolls her eyes, her lips twitching at the corners in a smirk. “Although, it does make for quite a tale. Two cops joining in on an old-fashioned mafia shakedown and chase? I still say you should let me publish an anonymous article on it.”

Sam just chuckles, knowing there’s no genuine threat behind her words, and then something catches his eye that makes him sit up a little straighter, flashing his teeth in a smile as he asks, “And where might you two be coming from?”

Steve turns to look over his shoulder as Wanda and Bucky step out from the kitchen, his sister tucked under his best friend’s arm. He has his head bent close to hers, likely to whisper something in her ear, but he straightens up at Sam’s comment, pressing his lips together as he shakes his head. Wanda’s cheeks are flushed, and yes, maybe Steve would feel wary about that, except he already has a pretty good idea on why Bucky might’ve wanted to steal Wanda away for a little while. He’d come to Steve and his father earlier that week about wanting Wanda to move in with him, not because he had been asking for permission or anything, because in the end, whatever she wanted was what he was going to give her, even if her father and brother were wary of it. But he’d wanted their honest opinion on whether they thought it would be too much, too fast for her.

Had it been a few weeks before, maybe it would have been. Steve still remembers how his sister sat in his kitchen and admitted that she didn’t see things going further between them. Even if he didn’t care about her being a mafia princess, she’d been worried about the Family never quite accepting him. But if Sam and Bucky helping to protect Wanda hadn’t been enough to earn the Family’s good graces, the evidence that they gathered against Anton, Ivan, and Hela to prove their betrayal would have.

“Pay attention to your own girl, Wilson,” Bucky counters, brushing a kiss to Wanda’s hair as she giggles. She pauses their stride as she turns to them, stretching on her toes to whisper in his ear, and he dips his head to kiss her, quick and hard, earning a half-hearted noise of protest from Pietro that has Wanda pulling away with another giggle.

Then she glides over to Natasha, taking her hand and giving it a tug. “They’re about to start slicing and serving cake, which means we need to do a toast!”

Natasha catches Steve’s gaze as Wanda starts to pull her onto her feet, her eyes sparkling, and Steve gives her a grin, grabbing their glasses as they all head back into the main dining room. It’s louder and warmer, and little Morgan Stark and Nathaniel Barton nearly trip him over as they run by, but it only makes Steve’s grin widen.

He joins Natasha where she’s standing at the head of the long table in the middle of the room, a few dozen faces staring back at them as they take their seats. He peers down at Nat as he hands over her glass, catching the way his mother’s ring twinkles on her finger under the bright glow of the chandeliers. Then he glances around the room, finding his father sitting further down the table, smiling at him from his seat between Howard and Melina. Across from them, Peter nudges Bucky with his elbow as he and Wanda sit with him, Peter whispering something that makes Bucky hide his laugh with a cough, and on his other side, Pepper and Tony laugh as Morgan practically climbs into Sam’s lap.

It quiets down as Steve lifts his glass, curving his hand over Nat’s hip and drawing her close as he thanks them for celebrating with them tonight, asking them to raise their glass in a toast to his father coming home safe, to Pietro’s quick recovery, and to his and Nat’s engagement.

“And to Family,” he finishes, peering down at Natasha.

“To Family,” she echoes, and there are cheers and clinks of utensils against glasses of wine right before his mouth slants against hers in a kiss. Then he feels Natasha smile against his mouth just as she parts their kiss a moment later, turning his head to bring her lips near his ear. “And when exactly do you want to tell them the Family is about to get a little bigger?” she whispers, and Steve breathes out a chuckle, pressing a kiss against her neck. If he thought he could get away with touching her stomach, he would’ve.

“This is the Family we’re talking about, Nat,” he points out, drawing back to catch her bright eyes, a warmth squeezing at his chest. “They probably found out a week ago.”

#romanogers #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #chanty writes #mafia 'verse

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