#i thought i hit rock bottom when i was 6 and my parents started to fight

[walkingstackofbooks]

Trying to decide what I want to work on right now and so to procrastinate I thought it'd be fun to share my current WIPs with you all (omg how did I get so manyyyyy)

Feel free to shout encouragement at me if there's any that particularly pique your interest! :P

Anyway, in order of how recently I've worked on them:

1. Prompt - what if Kukulaka got broken and Garak repaired him?

Coming soon? 80% it'll be done in the next week: I'm hoping to just bash it out at some point, but even though it's short and self-contained, it's hardddd...

2. Unexpected Chapter 2 of Imprisoned. Absolute Sloanshir rot: Sloan provides Julian with more "help", Julian gets increasingly confused/grateful/flustered/fucked

Coming soon? Almost 100% you're gonna see it next week - I am hype and should should should get to the end once I have an evening to myself ;)

3. Prompt - "I don't trust myself to be good to myself right now, but I need someone to be good to me." Conversations between Miles and Julian at various points in the series when they've hit rock bottom and need pulling out.

Coming soon? No... I've written one post-DBIP scene but I'd at least want the post-Argrathi scene and the rest of the DBIP stuff to be done before I put anything up, if not the whole thing... It's definitely a long fic I'll be returning to in fits and bursts. (sorry, prompter...)

4. Prompt - Garak and Julian's first conversation post-IPS/BIL.

Coming soon? It's a strong contender for next week - I was super hype for it when I started but then work interceded and I just haven't got back to it yet. It is a priority, though!

5. Pre-DBIP: a few moments where Julian's unspoken issues with his parents cause friction for him but go unnoticed by his friends. Post-DBIP a similar moment happens and is recognised for what it is. Featuring Julian + beets.

Coming soon? I really don't know. I've got a strong vision for it and scene one (of four) is done, but it's kind of stuttered since then.

6. Julian starts to neglect his self-care, leading to him passing out in the infirmary. Sisko would like to know what the hell happened.

Coming soon? It's already on tumblr in a rough and ready form, so editing to put on AO3 might well happen in the next week - and I'd say a 50% chance of something extra with that?

7. Chapter 2 of At Their Mercy. Alpha!Garak takes over with Omega!Julian where Kira left off... 😉😉😉

Coming soon? Gahhh, I have written this several times over in my brain, but getting the start of this chapter has been proving difficult. Definitely not until after the Imprisoned chapter is done.

8. Why Leeta Kept Kukulaka And How Julian Did Try To Ask For Him Back. Just cute, fluffy gap-filling; I love both of them.

Coming soon? Probably not. Only the outline has been written tbh and this hasn't caught my fancy in a while.

9. "Acts of God": A runabout crashes on a planet where medical intervention is outlawed. Unable to help his injured friends and forbidden from alleviating the suffering he sees around him, Julian has a very bad time...

Coming soon? No, I think this is probably going to be an after-VIsion-Awry project rather than a can-i-get-it-done-first one.

10. "Sloan's planet": Sloan is Julian's s31 handler, sending him out on all sorts of missions... but the missions are fake, Sloan using the holosuite to manipulate Julian pretty much any way he wants...

Coming soon? Possibly. This has more of a series vibe maybe with a few distinct one-shots, so if I get a short idea I might bash it out 🤷‍♀️ Sloanshir's often just so easy to fall into.. 🤣

11. Keiko + Molly + Julian + drawing post-DBIP. Julian's not very good at it, and it's a bit feels but a lot of fluff.

Coming soon? Well I haven't touched it since April but I do smile whenever I remember it exists (and looking at the file, more was written than I remember!)

Welp - and that's not even counting the myriad other ideas floating around my tumblr/ in my head! Or the fact that I have probably another 15-20k of Vision Awry to go... Well, here's looking forward to my August of writing!

(Which I'll definitely have... if I stop procrastinating! :P)

[casperghoost]

A rant about my experience growing up Catholic ft. Ghost

Tw: mention of depression and suicide

Man, I want to rant about ghost and explain the entirety of the ghost lore to my mom so badly, but considering that basically everything they sing about is worshipping Satan it’s probably not a good idea lol. Like my parents are too religious and I think I’m already on thin ice… next thing I know they’re gonna drag me back to church with them for the first time in 3 years

I certainly don’t have anything against Christians and I send love to all the ghesties who happen to be religious, but when i used to go to church I did not feel welcome there especially in my teenage years. I live in the type of town that’s full of xenophobic conservatives so after I wanted to start expressing myself as a queer non-binary person, I got so many weird looks every time I went out especially going to church and/or seeing people my parents were friends with.

Throughout all my childhood I went to Sunday school and I never actually wanted to be there. I don’t even remember most of the stuff they taught us, but I remember hearing a bunch of stuff that scared me into following Catholicism (ex. We learned about heaven and hell in like 2nd grade and I was scared shitless that if I didn’t “repent” and do x y and z for the rest of my life I would be stuck in hell for eternity).

So by the time I was 12-13, I started to question everything about the Catholic Church. This was also a time that my mental health was rapidly declining so I hated having to get up at 8am every Sunday (considering school this meant I only got an adequate amount of sleep 6 days a week) to spend an hour worshiping a god I barely believed in anymore. I tried praying for my life to get better so I didn’t have to suffer through depression suicidal thoughts anymore but nothing changed. It only got worse until I hit rock bottom at the age of 14 and I was hospitalized and that started a long and rough journey through recovery.

(Note: religion was not the core reason for my struggles with mental health, but it played a part in it)

Since then, I never returned and I think my parents understand why. In the past year or so, I’ve gotten interested in Satanism and the way it embraces freedom, self-empowerment, and justice. I sorta love listening to ghost and other satanic/ occult-related songs and artists because it makes me feel good about myself. I, like many others, find it liberating to embrace a sort of darker and less traditional style to life.

This started as a silly little post sharing my thoughts about how being obsessed with ghost and satanic stuff could get me in a lot of trouble with the environment I live in, but I love rambling sometimes. This is one of the first times I’ve shared something so personal on tumblr XD …I may of may not delete this later tbh.

I’d be surprised if anyone actually read all this, but if you did, thanks for listening :)

[therealgchu]

Snippet Sunday - Seven Days style

giving everyone a sneak peek into Day 6 for Snippet Sunday.

we're almost to the end. chapter 6 is 75% done; chapter 7 is finished.

read Seven Days from the beginning here on ao3.

my other fics live here on ao3.

tagging the coemancer crew, and anyone that has any fics they'd like to share.

sneaky peeky

“Funny thing about relationships. People assume the dominant one always has the power. But, that’s frequently not true. It’s the submissive one that usually does. I mean, so long as the relationship isn’t abusive.” He scratched his beard, realizing he hadn’t seen a mirror in six days, and wondered what a sight he must look. “With me and Lillian, people always thought that I was the one in control, I was a Coe, after all. But I wasn’t. It was Lillian calling all the shots. I’m generally an easy-going guy. I mostly didn’t care. But she cared about everything. All. The. Time. So, it was easier to just let her have her way. Then Cora came along. And I started caring.

“I’m assuming your Sam had a similar past as mine? Met Lillian while smuggling? She came in and saved his ass?” The woman nodded. “Yeah. I was pretty self-destructive at that age. Really, really fucked up. If you’re not a total idiot, you can actually learn a lot about yourself when you hit rock bottom, though it took awhile to figure it out. Like, I got really into some kinky sex. Just kinda let myself get used by whoever, however, when we partied. Realized later that it was me trying to punish myself. It was all of that self-hatred and loathing that got instilled by Jacob coming out. I was so outta control. But at the time, it felt like I was in control, that I had the power. It was a lie, though.

“Then Lillian came along, helped clean me up, set me right. But, I still didn’t have any power. I felt like I was always trailing in someone’s footsteps, Solomon, Jacob, and then Lillian.

“But Cora changed everything. She made me want to be a better person, a better man. Lillian…well, to be honest, Lillian didn’t have that much interest in being a mother. I mean, she loves Cora, but she ain’t exactly the maternal type. A lot of the time it was just me and Cora. I had taken more of a desk job so I could be closer to her. Lillian, though, never slowed down, at least once she went back to rangering.

“You learn a lot about power when you have a baby. With Cora I learned to take control. I had never felt like I was in control before, but I had to be with her. Had to be the parent. That was one of those things all the parenting books said: be the parent; take control. Honestly, it was really hard at first. But, I gradually learned how. It was also what led me to quit the Rangers and leave Lillian.”

Sam heaved a sigh, and then laid down on the cell’s floor, with his hands behind his head. “I’ve had a lot of time to think in here,” he said, “about where I came from, and where I’m going. All the choices I’ve made, good and bad. So often, you think you’re the victim, when you’re actually the one victimizing yourself.”

[sp-growingpains]

Introducing Jean Wellman!

Just another asshole who lives in South Park! Can't escape them!

Elementary School!!

Age: 6 - 10!

"I can play sports ball! I'm real good at chasing! Let me play with you! Please?!"

Born and raised in South Park by her parents

Her Father was an archeologist, and her mother was a cartographer! They stopped going on crazy expeditions when they had her!

Her father was born in Colorado and her mother came over from China!

It wasn't until she was six that the three got into a car accident, Jean survived but her parents didn't.

She was given to her God Mother, her mother's best friend, who had agreed to take her in if anything happened to them.

Her God Mother is a talent agent, so she's never home. Instead, she pays Sharon to watch Jean when she's not home.

Because of this she grew up close to Stan and Shelly!

After one too many arguments with her God Mother, she took a pair of scissors to her hair!

Got made fun of relentlessly by the boys for her hair

Lost her tooth after rough housing with her friends!

Her clothes get torn up pretty badly because of it too!

The little ring around her neck was her mother's ring, she bites anyone who goes to touch it.

F E R A L

Eventually she becomes friends with Stan and the boys.

Makes friends with Nichole first, adores her with all her heart!

Middle School!!

Age: 11 - 14

"I got the pizza socks dude! Fucking dripped out!"

Mellows out quite a bit when she hits middle school

At least with the feral attitude, choosing to direct that energy to basketball instead

Somehow her God Mother convinces the school to let her on the team

It's the first time her God Mother and her got along, maybe the first night in years they didn't bicker

That changes when she has Jean learn the piano

It doesn't end well and Jean ends up dropping it in favor for the guitar

Sneaking and going through Randy's things, Jean and Stan find his old guitar and she practices on that

Stan ends up teaching her what he knows and this starts, what they lovingly call. "The Bitch Sesh"

Jean finds he's the only one who gets it. So they play and talk about how they feel. As well as shitty little middle-schoolers can.

Discovers her love for Ronnie Dio and obsesses over that era of music

Leans heavily into rock and punk music, wanting so very badly to be her own rock star

Picks up tabletop games and video games with Nichole and finally becomes friends with Wendy!

Still doesn't take care of her clothes or body and ends up getting bruised and scratched up.

Falls in love with wrestling and hiking! So she's never home if she can help it

DIYs her own piercings like an idiot, she's extremely lucky her lip didn't get infected.

High School!!

Age: 15 - 18

"Come on, dude, I'm just getting started! Keep your eyes on me, or you'll miss what I can do!"

Picks up her smoking habit early! Got started because of Henrietta!

Picks up drinking more towards 17 and 18, anything from shitty beer to bottom shelf liquor

Doubles down on all of her hobbies, choosing to keep herself busy with them

Starts staying home alone now that she doesn't need to be baby sat anymore

Continues to ignore her mental health and begins punishing her body in other ways.

Runs on energy drinks, greasy food, and her love for her friends

The moment she was able to have the house to herself, she thought it would be so freeing! But every party she hosts, outing to the train tracks, late night dinners at diners, and midnight basketball games at the park won't stop the onslaught of self-loathing.

Despite being a wreck, she somehow shoots up in height!

Gains more muscle so she can quote:

"Dude! I can pick up all my friends in tight hugs if I get bigger! Plus you never know when someone needs a piggyback ride!"

Helps Stan write music for Crimson Dawn but she keeps herself out of the band

Loves watching Jimmy go apeshit on the drums!

Finally starts getting her jacket together, buying patches and things that remind her of her friends:

Mysterion Button -> Kenny

The Cure -> Kyle

Give 'Em Hell Kid -> Nichole

Look Alive Sunshine -> Butters

Problem Child -> Cartman

Black Sabbath/Dio/Rolling Stones -> Stan

Spine and Ribs -> Henrietta

SMPTE button -> Jimmy

More DIY piercings, but Kenny helps her with her industrial bar!

Bebe and Wendy help her kind of learn to be more feminine and the power behind that

Adult Time!!

Age: 19 - 24

"I honestly didn't think I'd make it this far. Thought I'd be dead in a ditch on the outskirts of this ugly town... but I'm so glad I still get to see tomorrow."

It isn't until the last year of high school where she finally decides what she wants to do

Ends up going to college and becomes a music teacher!

Continues to write music for any instrument she can get her hand on

Can't kick her cigarette habit but she ends up drinking more responsible

Slowly learns to start taking care of herself and actually talking about her feelings instead of piling on everyone else's problems

Still struggles to express anger but she's getting there!

Ends up staying in South Park her entire life but tries to go traveling when she can!

Absolutely steals one of her friends and invites them to travel with her!

Keeps that stupid hat for as long as she can until it won't stay on her head anymore

Same with her varsity jacket!

(Art on the right by: emilyartstudio-s )

More stuff!!

Silly little romance chart!

"I'm a mess okay?! If you're nice to me, even a little, I fall in love! I can't listen to what my heart says because it's always screaming!"

Falls in love very easily

Honestly doesn't care what gender you are or what you look like, it's more about your personality

Finds herself attracted to people who are ambitious or self assertive

On the flip side, has a soft spot for shy and sweet people

Loves people.

Golden retriever energy!

If she calls you friend, you're her friend until the end.

Her love language is Words of Affirmation -> Acts of Service -> Physical Touch!

♡ Loves praising and flirting with people, wants so badly to make people feel good

♡ Kind of handy so she'll happily help you with anything you need, just don't ask her to cook

♡ Adores picking people up in hugs, carrying people around, just genuinely loves having people in her arms!

》 Needs to be reminded often not to touch if you don't like being touched, but she will learn!

(Playlist. Mood board, and doodle below! ☆)

Hey thanks for reading and welcome to this stupid blog! Feel free to interact with me and my stupid oc! I love people info dumping on me about their ocs or headcanons! Please be aware I am over 20 so I don't feel comfortable interacting with minors!

[rafescoke]

Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Request: The second one I was hoping could be a Rafe x reader based on the song why’d you only call me when you’re high by arctic monkeys. Maybe something along the lines of rafe only calling and giving the reader attention when he wants to hook up. Finally, the reader gets tired of it their feelings known.

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Reader finds herself thinking about a certain boy more than what they had agreed on

Warnings: Hella angst, mentions of sex, masterbating, substance, cursing, toxic relationship

A/N: I’ve been updating a new fic every single day and the amount of love you guys are returning is beyond amazing. I love you so much, thank you for all of your kind words <3

p.s, again, my request box is always open. drop in any ideas and i’ll present to you my best :)

p.p.s, does anyone know why i can’t tag some users? im going crazy.

“I was thinking. . .” Rafe trailed, drawing invisible circles against her soft skin. She hummed in response, her eyes closed, feeling so relaxed under the silk bedsheet wrapping around her body.

“We should do this often.”

“Is twice a day isn’t enough for you?” she asked, hiding her smile. She felt him shift, placing his arms around her waist and pulling her close against him. She giggled lightly, feeling him behind her, but she was too tired to do anything.

“We should try doing it every minute,” he simply replied, smelling into her scent. She smelt like vanilla and caramel, just the way he likes it. “Is this the perfume I bought?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, feeling so peaceful she could sleep if he hadn’t pulled her closer against his hardening member. She groaned, trying to scoot forward by an inch, but was stopped by his fingers gripping her hips.

“I’m sore.”

“I know,” he replied casually, still brushing against her bottom. Before he could do anything else she turned, now facing him. She looked at his handsome face, his blue eyes and his soft lips. Her thumb grazed over his top lip, and Rafe swore he could fuck her anytime soon if she kept doing that.

“Are you not tired?” she asked, now cupping his face. He stared into her eyes, feeling himself getting lost in them before giving her a smile.

“No.”

“You’re mental,” she sighed, but she failed to contain her laugh after. She giggled, still cupping his face, and she has never felt so calm and relax before. Just them two, on top of a bed in some cheap motel, sometimes hearing the couple staying on top of them screaming at each other.

“Are you?” he continued, tilting his head into her hands. She smiled when he closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth radiating from her. He loves it. He feels at peace.

(Y/N) sighed, loving yet also hating these kind of moments where she knew they would be acting like strangers after, in front of everyone else. She remembered the exact day after she had had sex with him for the first time, and how he acted so cold afterwards.

“Hey,” (Y/N) smiled, standing beside his form as he squinted his eyes against the bright sunlight to inspect his goal. He didn’t reply, swinging his golf club upwards and hit the golf ball. (Y/N) watched as it flew and landed near the goal, and expressed a smile.

“You’re good.”

“Huh?” he looked up to her, as if just noticed her existence. (Y/N) felt a pang of hurt across her heart, especially when he had just whispered so many love words into her ear the night before.

“I said you’re good.”

“Oh, thanks,” he muttered, already making his way back to where his friends were. Clearly not satisfied, she followed him suit, watching as his friends cheered for him. Rafe groaned even harder, and turned to look at her before they got too close to his friends.

“What are you fucking doing here?” he scolded, his eyes staring at a space beside her. (Y/N) raised a brow, being caught off guard, but she tried to play it cool.

“I’m a member of this country club too, Rafe,” she replied, scoffing. “You’re an asshole, do you know that? Are we not going to talk about last ni-”

“Shut up,” he grunted, looking backwards to check on his friends before pulling her a few distance away. “Look, I was on drugs last night. That was not me. Let it go, okay?”

(Y/N) has never experienced that kind of disrespect, and she swore she hated Rafe Cameron so bad that when she got home, she cried against her pillows until the night sky greeted her. 

She thought about the many other guys who tried to be with her, but she had pushed them all away for a certain rich boy living 6 houses away from her. The fact that her parents are good friends with Ward and Rose Cameron doesn’t make it any easier, not when she is forced to see him every single Saturday night for ‘barbecue night’.

“What are you thinking?” he suddenly spoke, interrupting her thoughts. She sighed, suddenly scooting away from him. He watched as she turned away, but he didn’t put much thoughts into it.

“I can still smell the weed from you,” she suddenly said, and Rafe let out a laugh. He rubbed his eyes, hating the fact that they are going to repeat the same topic they have fought countless of times before, especially after sex and they had both came down from the high.

“Don’t start, (Y/N), fuck,” he sighed, covering his face with his large hands. He watched as she scooted further, wrapping the covers around her body. “Can you please just lay right next to me?”

“I want to sleep,” she replied, and bit her lips before she could express any tears. Rafe sighed, groaning, and sat up straight, resting on the edge of the bed before reaching for his jeans discarded on the corner of the room.

“I’m leaving,” he said, and (Y/N) heard the metal bar of his belt clanking against his jeans button. “Since you wanna act like a bitch again.”

“You’re an asshole,” she replied, still not looking at him. A tear rolled down her cheeks before she could stop herself, and she quickly wiped them away.

“Whatever,” he said, and she heard the door slammed shut. She cursed, unable to stop her tears now that she was alone. The banter between the husband and wife from the room above filled the silence as (Y/N) sobbed against the pillow and she thought about how it resembled her and Rafe’s relationship so much.

He would call her when he’s under the influence, whispering sweet-nothings through the phone, saying how much he’s missing her and longing for her forehead kisses. The fight they had before the phone call will immediately evaporate into thin air, and (Y/N) will make her way to wherever Rafe is. Sometimes they’ll do it in the car in a secluded alley or sometimes in the cheap motel at Chapel Hill. 

But then it was the moments after their brief meeting that had her all moody and depress throughout the week; how he would ignore her, pretending not to see her and forcing himself to say ‘hi’ during their family barbecue.

(Y/N) never thought of herself as someone who’s prone to being in a sneaky relationship, but if that what it takes to be with Rafe Cameron, she was willing to be in one.

It had been a week since the incidence, and Rafe hadn’t call her to meet or anything of the sort. (Y/N) frowned when she thought of this, because the longest fight they had before only lasted for 2 days before he rang her up, asking to meet up. 

(Y/N) shook her head, sipping on her martini before setting it on the side of the swimming pool. She dived into the water, trying to get the heat from the scorching sun off of her, and resurfaced seconds after, her wet hair falling down her shoulders.

“(Y/N), where’s dad?” Topper appeared, squatting in front of her as she took another sip on the martini. Her eyes fell to the figure behind her brother, and she almost choked on the liquid.

“Um, I don’t know,” (Y/N) replied, staring at Rafe Cameron as he took out his phone to check on his messages, ignoring her like always. She rolled her eyes at this, knowing that there were no new texts and he was just trying to act like she wasn’t there. She dived into the water again and swam to the other side, away from Rafe and his negative energy.

If Rafe knew she was going to be in the swimming pool, he would have made an excuse to Topper, perhaps saying how he has to take Wheezie to the clinic for an appointment. (Y/N) was almost never home every time he hang out with Topper, so he thought he was safe. But there she was; in the most tempting bikini, swimming and constantly sipping on a martini.

Rafe sat right next to Topper, watching her back from the corners of his eyes as she gazed at the view in front of her. She was laying on her arms, lazily humming to a rock song Rafe plays every time he’s driving.

He jolted when Topper touched his hand. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Topper laughed, “I said, do you wanna eat?”

“I’m okay,” he mumbled, closing his eyes and thinking about good she looked in that bikini. He made a mental note to guess the brand to purchase more of that sort for her. 

“Okay, I’m going in to get myself some food. Are you sure you don’t want any food?” Topper asked, sitting on the edge of the seat. Rafe nodded, his eyes still closed, and heard him walking towards the sliding door into the kitchen.

“Why are you ignoring me?” 

Rafe opened his eyes, and to his satisfaction, the girl with the (H/C) locks stared at him with her face rested against her arms. His breath hitched, seeing how beautiful she was with the chlorine water dripping from her face, down to her neck, continuing to her che-

“God, you’re a fucking asshole,” she suddenly said, and Rafe had to shook his head from the involuntary thought that appeared in his mind. He groaned, watching as she dived in the water again, and almost catching a glimpse of her bottom. He smiled.

“Are you still a bitch?” he asked when she resurfaced, crossing his arms. “Because if you are, I don’t feel like fucking you right here and right now.”

(Y/N) halted her movements as she tried her best not to look at the smirking boy, and instead staring into the swimming pool as if there was something interesting in it. Rafe laughed, knowing exactly the impact of his words towards her, and thought about wanting to have a little more fun with her.

“I’m asking, baby,” he said softly, and her eyes landed on his. “Are you still a bitch?”

“I brought cookies!” Topper suddenly yelled, appearing from the sliding door and walking towards them with a bright smile. Rafe cursed, laying his back against the seat again and pretending to close his eyes while (Y/N) dived underwater, trying to hide her red face. He was glad when Topper handed him a cookie, talking about wanting to surf tomorrow - so oblivious towards the sexual tension between him and his own twin.

“What do you think?” Topper asked, munching on the cookies all the while trying to see Rafe’s reaction. Rafe nodded, muttering his agreement, but under his sunglasses, he was watching (Y/N) and she too, was watching him.

“Can I have a cookie, Tops?” (Y/N) suddenly interrupted, and without looking at her, Topper gave her a thumbs up sign. (Y/N) smiled, pulling herself up from the pool and Rafe almost had a heart attack from the sight of her curves donning the bikini and the water dripping off of her.

She walked towards them, hair swept to her left shoulder, and Rafe’s gaze followed her fingers as she grabbed a cookie and immediately putting it in her mouth. He watched as she closed her eyes, enjoying the sweet taste, all the while sitting under the glowing sun that highlighted her features even more.

He could feel himself getting harder.

“Well,” (Y/N) suddenly said, and Rafe had realized he was too busy looking at her to realize that she was already conversing with Topper. “I’ll go. Is Rafe coming too?” 

Both of the siblings’ attention fell towards him, and Rafe found himself clearing his throat before he spoke.

“I’m sorry, where are we?”

“Man, are you sure you’re okay?” Topper asked, removing his sunglasses to look at him clearly. “Do you need water?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Rafe quickly added, “Can I, um, go up to your room? I think I need a nap.”

“Yeah, okay,” Topper replied, not thinking much of it. They had been spending so much time under the sun during the summer, he wouldn’t be surprised if one of them got sick. “I’ll go upstairs in a second.”

He muttered a thanks, quickly making his way to the top of the house, where Topper stayed. He groaned, feeling himself getting harder, and hating the fact that she was most probably liking the way he was reacting. 

He locked the door of the bathroom he has been using since the first day he became friends with Topper, watching himself in the mirror. He closed his eyes while he tried to picture her in his mind, his fingers trying their best to untie the knot of the band of his swimming shorts.

He held himself in the palm of his hands as he pictured her again, this time with her under him. He started sliding his palm over his hardened member, his other hand safely placed on the sink for balance. He thought of the way she’ll bounce on him when she rides him, and bit his lips before he could let out any sounds.

Fuck. 

He hated how easy she’ll make him hard and how she has him wrapped around her finger. It was true how they would only do the unholy thing when he was under the influence or they were both under the influence, but he couldn’t deny the unsettling feeling in his stomach every time he saw her.

“Fuck,” he expressed, his grip on the sink tightening. His movements became faster as he tried to picture her mouth and around him, and felt his end coming. He left a string of curses as he finally released himself, watching the shot dripping off the sides of the sink. He grunted, having to do more work, and grabbed himself the white tissues before wiping his mess.

. . .

“Hey.”

“Hey, Rafe,” (Y/N) said, trying to maintain her normal tone. She bit her lips at the sound of his heavy breathing, missing his voice and also his handsome face. She longed to have his face in her hands again, staring at each other’s eyes and kissing each other’s lips right after.

“Can you come over?” he asked, his voice slurring. “No, I mean, can I pick you up?” The sound of laughter and booming music could be heard behind him, giving out his location. (Y/N) sighed, knowing the exact request behind the words, and looked at her wall to check on the time.

“It’s 12 a.m., my mom won’t allow me to go out.”

“Sneak out, then,” Rafe replied, and he said something to his friends before focusing back on her. “Please? I missed you.”

(Y/N) sighed, knowing exactly her problem.

This.

“Okay,” she replied, leaning over her mattress to close her laptop now that she had new plans for the night. “What time are you picking me up?”

“I can’t drive right now,” he said, suddenly realizing how sloshed he was. “Can you come and pick me up, please?”

She sighed again, but she had missed him so much. Him and his touches. His and his words.

Him.

“Okay, send me your location, okay? I’ll pick you up.”

(Y/N) thought about how she couldn’t do it anymore. Not when she has spent most of her life trying to make him love her. He had been friends with her brother since forever, but yet he never seemed to settle on her. She heard about the amount of girls he dated and how she tried to become like them, but after a while, she grew bored of it. She was tired of running after someone who doesn’t want to be caught.

Until the night at the party, where they had been smoking and doing coke and god knows what else. (Y/N) had watched him from the corners of her eyes, liking how attractive he looked under the party lights. He was in a black shirt, his hair messily parted, a cigarette loosely hanging from his lips.

“Thornton, do you know how perfect your smile is?” he asked, leaning towards her. (Y/N) giggled, her back against the wall as she stared into his eyes. 

“You’re mistaking me for my brother, Rafe?” she asked, with that smile again. Rafe licked his lips, looking down to hers before leaning closer to whisper into her ear.

“I’ve got to confess, (Y/N),” he whispered, sending shivers down to her spine. “You’re the hottest sibling.”

When she woke up the next day, laying right next to Rafe Cameron, she had to pinch herself a few times to make sure that she was living in reality, but when she tried to approach him that evening on the golf course, it was like nothing happened that night.

It scarred her until he rang her up again, six days after. 

“Rafe,” (Y/N) sighed, leaning over to open the passenger’s door from her seat, seeing how drunk he was. Rafe giggled, getting himself in before shutting the door and staring at her. He leaned towards her and placed a sloppy kiss against her cheeks, down to her neck and stopped directly before her chest.

“Just park in the back,” he ordered, placing his palm on the upper side of her thigh, too close to her heat. She bit her lips as she turned her steering wheel, entering the back alley of the club. Soon after he had texted her his location, she sneaked out through her brother’s porch and stole his car, driving straight towards Rafe.

She turned the ignition off and looked at him, watching as he unbuttoned his shirt slowly, groaning when he missed one button. He tried to reach for her, but she pushed his hand away, her face expressing into anger.

“Don’t pull this shit again, fuck,” Rafe sighed, throwing his head back against the seat and covering his face with his hands. (Y/N) caught a glimpse of a gold ring, and noticed how it looked so similar to hers hanging around her neck.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she said, filling the silence. Rafe let out a shrill laugh, still closing his eyes.

“Still a bitch, I guess.”

“This is the problem, Rafe!” she groaned, causing Rafe to look at her fully in the face when he noticed her increasing volume. “What are we?”

“What do you want to hear?” he simply said, staring at her with empty eyes. He licked his lips, “No, seriously. Tell me the answer, and I’ll say it.”

How cold could he be?

“Rafe, do you see how you’re treating me?” she asked, and she could feel her tears threatening to fall. “Do you realize the difference between sober Rafe and intoxicated Rafe?”

Of course he knew. He just chose to ignore it.

“I can’t do this right now,” Rafe said, putting his hands up in defeat. “Can we just fuck, get over whatever fight we’re having right now, and live our best lives the next day? Can we do that?”

He turned to look at her, and noticed her glassy eyes. He sighed, trying to cup her face, but she flinched at his touch.

“You make me feel like a whore,” she whispered, her lips trembling. “One second you love me, the next second you’re spitting on me.”

He just had the worst night of his life; having a fight with Ward about his business, bumping onto the pogues, catching Sarah and John B. . . and now this?

“You think too much,” he said, but his heartbeat was quickening. He stole a glance at her and watched as she stared at him with empty eyes. “I’m sober now. You know what, (Y/N)? You’re right. I can’t even look at you when I’m not under the influence.”

He turned to open the door, getting out while buttoning his shirt back, not wanting to look at her. He couldn’t stand it, he knew he’ll be too broken if he sees her cry over him. He didn’t know what to do; he panicked, never preparing for this exact moment where he knew she will ask about the state of their relationship.

He watched as she sped away from the alley, her engine roaring against the silence of that particular Friday night, where his day had been nothing but miserable. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to contain his feelings, but before he knew it, he had kicked on the empty beer can on the side of the road, watching its movement as it hit the opposite wall and fell into the trash can.

He laughed at the strange occurrence, his tears slowly rolling down his cheeks and made his way back to the club.

If there’s one thing he’s so sure about himself; Rafe Cameron hates himself more than anyone else in the world.

-

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[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Six

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 6 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: physical assault; mentions of past sexual assault (brief); abusive parental relationship; canon violence; ANGST; mentions of attempted suicide; mentions of drugs, drug smuggling, and human trafficking; bullying and harassment; SMUT (unprotected sex; hair pulling; ass smack!; ALL THAT GOOD CONSENT; talking a lot during sex lol); 18+ ONLY PLEASE!

Word Count: 21,400+

A/N: ya’ll my timeline is completely fucked (age wise)... like... anything remotely romantic happening between Steve x Female Reader happened AFTER Infinity War when the reader was already 19-20. I just realized that my years were off in a certain flashback......... so yes, everyone knew the reader while they were still in their teens but they’re literally 26-27 present day so don’t think too much of it lmao i can’t really fix it now lol

~

An Avengers Safehouse, 2023, 10:45 pm  

    Every door was closed and locked for the night. You had made sure of it. A distraction now would ultimately destroy any other chance you might get, and this chance was already overdue. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you jogged down the hallways to the common room you knew he was in. He had been catching up on his reading for the past two days now, a small pinch of solace during this hectic week. 

Your feet were heavy, invisible anchors shackled to your ankles and dragging you lower to the depths of that personal hell you had been burning in. Glancing over your shoulder, you measured the distance between you and your room, chest beginning to feel tight as your lungs forgot the taste of air. It was like you were walking to your own personal execution, flesh and bone ready to disconnect from your essence. But you weren’t walking toward anything dangerous - you were walking to him. To speak with him. To be with him. 

You knew you saw it when everyone returned from the heist. He wasn’t himself - he regretted not using the stones for himself, possibly - you truly didn’t know why. You enjoyed the reunions and getting to reconnect with everyone. Grasping and holding Wanda in your arms was outright magical, to touch one of your best friends after nearly accepting the possibility of never doing that again - you had a similar reaction when you collapsed into Peter’s arms with the weight of those five long years. 

And you knew Steve was grateful as well, he had to be, but his exclusion of you hurt. You had shrugged it off the first time - perhaps he was tired, wanted more private time to catch up with Sam and Bucky, to be with his friends as you were with yours. The second time he dismissed you, it was during a dinner. The seat beside you was empty, it wasn’t even that close to you, and he decided to skip dinner altogether. 

But the third time, the most wretched of times, had shown you that something was truly wrong. This wasn’t the Steve you had grown close to these five years. He was distant, cold, a completely changed person that only spoke when absolutely necessary. 

It was a nightmare, one of the worst ones you ever had, and Friday had alerted the only other room near yours - Steve’s. The knocks were loud, frantic in their purpose, and Friday unlocked the door. You were shaken awake, tugged into a chest that wasn’t as firm as the one you remembered, and soft whispers of ‘you’re okay, you’re alright’ drowned out the sounds of your panicked whimpers. You reached out to stroke the person’s face, eyes snapping open when you realized it wasn’t him, it wasn’t Steve. 

‘Bucky?’ you had whispered, hands still stroking his face as he held you. 

‘It’s me. You’re okay, you’re alright.’

‘Where’s Steve? Is he okay?’

Bucky immediately tensed, expression turning somber as he tried to give an acceptable explanation. 

‘He’s… he’s not coming, doll.’

‘What do you mean he’s not coming? He always comes, he-”

‘Doll, hey,’ he shook his head, biting his bottom lip. ‘He’s not coming.’

The broken question of ‘why?’ had tumbled from your lips until Bucky’s rocking had calmed you enough to fall back into a deep sleep. And the next morning, Steve announced he was moving from the safehouse and back to his apartment permanently. 

And it made no sense considering you two were on wonderful terms just a few weeks ago babysitting Morgan. It was like he flipped a switch and erased you from his memory. 

You deserve an explanation. You deserve to have your questions answered, to see the look in his eyes as he tried to explain himself, to witness his fumbling as you caught him off guard. You deserved to know.  

“Why are you avoiding me?”

The common area was illuminated by a soft, yellow light from the lamp in the corner of the room, the moonlight only shining over the kitchen. Steve sat on the lone couch near the soft light, book in his lap and already half-way read. 

No one really snuck up on him - no one had the chance to with his enhanced hearing - but you succeeded. The book nearly fell from his lap, a hitch in his breath alerting you that he really wasn’t expecting anyone. He set the book down on the nearby table and slowly stood up. “I’m not avoiding you.”

You will not cry right now. 

You scoffed, “So, leaving a room when I walk in is just a common occurrence now? What about avoiding me completely? You don’t say good morning, you don’t tell me hello, you don’t even sit near me anymore-”

“It’s late, and these briefings have really taken a toll on me, agent.” Steve sighed and avoided your eyes as he walked right past you and into the kitchen. 

He hadn’t actually done it, but that certainly was a slap in the face. The invisible shackles wrapped around your ankles were pulling harder, drowning you in your grief.

You mindlessly whipped your head at him, watching as he grabbed the milk carton and proceeded to do absolutely nothing with it. You clenched your teeth, “Agent?” 

He did not immediately correct himself. The room was now deathly silent, minus the quick breaths under your nose. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Don’t make this into something it’s not.”

Your forehead strained from the pained expression you held, tears brimmed and burning as they threatened to fall. You walked towards him and tried to keep a steady demeanor, anger drowning your veins the quickest it ever has. “What is it then? ‘Cause you’ve been calling me by my real name for the last five years! You’re my friend!”

Everytime your name slipped from his mouth it made you like him more. His presence was no longer uncomfortable or forced, but rather calming and needed. This friendship was built high and mighty these five years, walls seemingly strong. You worried there was true vulnerability in those foundations.

Speaking to Rhodey or Bruce just wasn’t the same as speaking to Steve. Helping him take out the trash, buying coffee for one another, asking the other what they wanted to watch on television. But now your name was absent from his voice, restrained and gutted from existence as if to purposely hurt your now healing mind. 

Steve ignored the desperate portion of your argument, “It’s time to focus on the new threats this world faces-”

“What are you talking about? Why are you shutting me out like I’m not important to you?”

His jaw tensed, eyes still distant. “I’m not shutting you out. I’m saying we need to focus on the fights we thought we left behind-”

“You mean my dad? Because I’m pretty fucking sure he’s looking to only kill me.”

“Don’t joke about that-”

You had no physical control now. The anger was at its boiling point, seeping through the corners of your eyelids and corners of your mouth. “Joke about what? Why are you not letting me in?”

Steve gripped the counter, head hanging low but voice powerful enough to shake through you. “Stop interrupting me!”

A solitary tear hit the floor beneath you, voice now wobbly and unsure of its chosen words. “What happened to you?”

Steve remained silent for only a moment, hands still gripping the expensive granite. “Nothing happened.”

He ran his right hand down his face to relieve some of the tense muscles. He continued to speak.

“Now that everyone’s back and the same threats are picking up where they left off, I’ve got bigger problems on my hands.”

You scoffed again, “Oh, so now Scott’s time heist has another negative consequence?”

In a matter of a millisecond, Steve turned suddenly and was now towering over you. Your back instantly straightened. “Don’t be smart with me. You know what this means.”

You just looked up at him, eyes slightly fogging up but the rest of your face still determined. You spoke low, searching his face for any indication that he would swing. No, he wouldn’t. Ever. “Spell it out for me then. I’m still seething from not hearing my first name yet.”

Steve ignored your quip, “Now that your father’s back, we need to finish what we started.”

You stared at him in disbelief, “You don’t think he’s actually going to pick up where he left off, right? Not now!”

“He already has. Fury notified me through a secure channel,” Steve declared, stepping away from you as his mind finally rewired. 

You instinctively wrapped your arms around your torso, “No…”

“Business as usual.”

Your voice raised an octave, desperation now dousing your plea of ignorance, “No, you’re lying. You’re a goddamn liar!”

“Calm down, agent. This isn’t the time-”

It was your turn to crowd Steve, stepping toward him and pushing him backwards. Your mind told you to not touch him, that he never touched you, and that it was horribly wrong. But his blank face prompted another push, your body acting on its own will. 

“Agent? Agent! Steve, what the fuck is going on?”

His voice was deeper, “If you yell one more time-”

“You’ll what?” 

Neither of you spoke. In that moment, you wondered if anyone had heard this fight as you and Steve weren’t exactly being quiet. You knew your voice traveled down several hallways and his strong one practically shook the floors. So you pushed that thought to the back of your cramped brain, head held high and eyes boring into Steve’s.

“Now that you got your old friends back, I’m useless. Is that right?”

His eyes widened, “Where in the hell is that coming from?”

“I’m right, right? You don’t want to be my friend anymore, I was a rebound all these years?”

Steve started shaking his head, eyes closed as he tried to calculate the best possible response. He could feel his lungs burn, almost like they did before the serum, and he realized he was throwing himself into a panic attack. It tickled its way up his throat, clenching the sides and dragging its nails across the sensitive surface.

You were still speaking.  

“You know, you’re still pissed that the first name I spit out to Fury when I went undercover was yours. You never wanted to help me with it.”

“Don’t start-”

You knew you shouldn’t have continued, this argument proved childish since he first called you by an old, nameless nickname. But it seemed he had no intention of apologizing or providing you with an explanation for his sudden absence.

“You’re still fuming about it. You’re still fuming about your image being ruined. Good ol’ Captain America as a secret, undercover drug dealer!”

Steve finally showed proof of cracking, hands gripping his hair harshly. “Y/N, I said don’t start! I’m finished!”

But you persisted, now screaming and countless, frustrated tears tainting your red cheeks. “You can’t fucking stand me because I tarnished that fucking star on your chest! I made you look bad to a bunch of fucking criminals!”

Steve grabbed the nearest object, the coffee maker Tony had bought for their six year formation anniversary, and flung it across the room. It shattered into the wall, leftover cold coffee staining the peach paint, the glass littered over the floor. “That’s enough!”

The sound of its impact made your stomach churn. You were frozen in place, almost certain that Steve would throw you next, and your legs were suddenly cold. “Who are you?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Steve choked out, tears forming in his eyes as well. His chest rapidly raised and lowered, his breathing becoming erratic. Even he wondered why no one had come to check up on you two.

For the sake of Steve’s sanity, you whispered your next reply. 

“You hate me that much-”

“Y/N-”

And you were suddenly overpowered by a sense of calm acceptance. “You hate me so much that you can’t even stand to look at me.”

“Please...”

“I’m finished, too. From now on… you’re my Captain. I’m just an agent. I’ll answer your call to help fight. That’s it.”

You had thought he would drop to his knees and apologize. This Steve wasn’t your Steve - not that Steve or any part of him was ever yours - but it was almost impossible to comprehend such a blank set of emotions from the same man who helped you with laundry, remembered the captions of your photo posts and teased you about them later, or casually sketched your outline in his sketchbook. He began to disregard your kindness, your presence, your voice the moment Wanda held Vision’s face as he whispered his goodbye, as she got her closure, as she had to say goodbye for the thousandth time. 

But nothing could prepare you for his quick acceptance of your offer.

“I think that’s for the best.”

You nodded slowly, arms falling to your sides. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did - hell, you didn’t love the guy - but he was so much more than just a colleague now. You had literally saved the world together. He was your shoulder to cry on and you were his. Did you love him? 

“Just so you know, I wasn’t faking any of it.” 

Steve looked as if he was going to say something but closed his mouth. You swore you could see his bottom lip trembling, but he remained still. He stared anywhere but your face. 

You turned to leave, body ready to give away and tumble into the mound of pillows calling your name. But you held yourself up at the doorway, turning back to Steve and meeting his eyes - he was already watching you walk away. 

You swallowed hard, “And I’ll be the honest one here, tonight - you were the only thing stopping me from putting a bullet in my head for five years.”

Present Day, 2025, 7:02am

     You awoke startled, your gasp a little raspy as it sounded off in the quiet room. Your internal clock was already stressing you out, letting you know that you seriously had to get up now, even before your alarm rang. 

Dread swam in the pit of your stomach, swirling the pound of breadsticks you had last night. Yesterday had been your last ‘in between’ day, the last day to truly map out your next steps before you actually had to execute them. You would see everyone today, tomorrow, and the next - the next the final, the endgame. 

You rolled over and glanced at Steve. His bed was empty, sheets folded and pillows fluffed, and the bathroom was open and empty. 

With a pinch of your eyebrows, you groaned as you flipped your legs over the side of your bed. You stilled, but there was no other sound. 

Steve really wasn’t here. 

For a second, you were angry. You couldn’t believe he literally left you alone, after basically defiling you and you himself, on a day that would for sure strike a major nerve in your crippling anxiety. It was low, like you were left to pick up your heels and proceed with the walk of shame down the hotel hallways.

But then the next second, you were relieved. You could take this moment to relive last night, to hatch out every single detail, to somehow make sense of just what the hell happened. It had been so fucking hot, so fucking overdue, and god, did you want to do it again. Steve’s absence allowed you to squeal in both delight and disbelief. 

You had fondled… had sex with?... humped?... your literal Captain. Sure, you had crossed a boundary in this ten-year friendship and rivalry, a boundary that was now completely exed out and erased really, but it wasn’t literal sex. Right?

It was certainly something if you had learned one thing from Sex Ed 101. Intimacy was intimacy. Yeah, you and Steve shared… intimacy. 

It took all your willpower to shrug off the rest of the blankets and start getting ready. There wasn’t much to do except hope that your guns didn’t jam or Seda didn’t ambush you. Quickly shooting off a text to Wanda, you waited for her much needed call. 

‘Hey, what’s up?’

You let out a long hum, face lifted toward the ceiling as you thought about how you would phrase last night’s events to her. “So, like, I’m gonna kill myself.”

‘Back up. Explain?’

“Ahhhhh, Wanda! I fucked up. We fucked up.”

Wanda’s voice sounded frantic, ‘Did the mission go wrong? Where’s Scott? Steve? Torres?’

You groaned, stomping your foot like the literal child you were. “Wanda, me and Steve did something last night.”

Wanda was silent for a few moments, her quick breaths evening out as she collected her thoughts. ‘Are you trying to tell me, that while trying to tell me you had sex with Steve last night, you made it sound like we would have had to all suit up to save your asses all the way across the country?’

Grateful she couldn’t see you blush, you responded as if you were trying to still keep the events a secret. “Well, when you put it like that!”

‘Did you and Steve actually…?’

“No, no! But we… touched and stuff.”

‘Is this high school? Spit it out.’

It was basic instinct to inspect the room again before you admitted it. “We sort of just, got each other off. Like, handjobs and such.”

Wanda let out a sound that resembled both a groan and a chuckle. ‘High school.’

You threw yourself back into bed, rolling around and throwing pillows all over the place. “It was so hot.”

‘You don’t need to give me the specifics.’

“Who else am I supposed to talk with? Bucky?”

Wanda choked on her laugh, ‘Okay, okay. I see your point.’

“What does this mean?” you asked both her and yourself. 

‘I’m gonna tell you something that you might not like to hear, okay?’

“Ugh, don’t scare me.”

Wanda chuckled before she continued, ‘This doesn’t surprise me.’

You practically strained your back from snapping up from bed so quickly. “What do you mean ‘you’re not surprised’?”

There was slight shuffling on the other line. ‘I owe Peter fifty dollars.’

You huffed loudly, “What do you mean by that, Wanda?”

Wanda sighed, ‘Look, we weren’t here during those five years. We weren’t here to see you two together. But Bruce told us how you two were during that time. Even when you were ignoring each other for months after, you didn’t hesitate to protect each other.’

You shook your head, as if she could see you. “He abandoned me for a good while.”

Wanda interrupted, ‘You saved him at the height of your fighting.’

You rolled your eyes, “He’s my Captain, of course I saved him.”

‘You didn’t have to.’

Your thoughts were flying at a hundred miles an hour, colliding with one another at top speeds. You opted to forgo that memory. It was shelved, to be revisited later. 

Changing the subject to a much less dramatic topic, the phone call lasted for another fifteen minutes before you seriously had to finish getting ready. 

The talk helped. But it didn’t answer any questions you had. The answers lay in the one place you really didn’t want to explore right now. Maybe after breakfast.

      Scott stumbled out of the elevator with very sleepy eyes, fingers still digging into their corners as he made his way to the hotel bar. Steve was seated in the farthest chair from the entrance just casually sipping orange juice. 

“What was so urgent that I had to wake up before my alarm?” Scott groaned as he slid into the seat beside him. 

Steve’s eyes were glued to his drink. He was bouncing his leg wildly. “I’m sorry, I just…”

It didn’t take a genius to know that when someone was nursing an orange juice in the hotel bar, head hanging low and with a massive pout, there was something incredibly wrong. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m just cranky when I have to get up early.”

Steve waved his hand, “No, don’t apologize. I get it. I mean it.”

Scott ordered his own glass. He spread his lips into a thin line, “Did you want to talk? I’m a great listener. I could listen to Luis go on for hours on end.”

“I need to tell someone.”

“I’m all ears.”

Steve hesitated for only a second, downing the orange juice as if it was a shot. He ordered another. “I kissed Y/N last night.”

“Are you serious?” Scott’s eyes widened and he gurgled his juice on accident. He didn’t know what to say. Congratulations? 

“And we messed around a little bit.”

Now Scott tilted his head to the side and gave the super soldier an amused glare. “Messed around? What is this, the third grade?”

Steve cringed, “I hope to God no third graders are messing around.”

His juice was long forgotten now. “Then call it like it is, Captain. You ‘serviced the Venus’, you ‘made whoopee’, you -”

“That’s calling it like it is?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Very. We just… touched and stuff.”

Steve’s awkward hand gestures caused Scott’s lip to twitch itself into a weird smile. “You ‘cleaned your rifle’? You did the ‘loop-de-loop?”

“Where in the hell are you getting these things from? You think we actually talked like this back in the forties?” Steve covered his ears and lay his forehead against the counter. 

“Sorry, sorry. I was just having a little fun.” Scott apologized, trying to make eye contact even as Steve’s head was lowered. “Sorry, no fun.” Still, Steve remained sheltered. “Damn, man. Did something else happen that you’re not telling me?”

Finally, Steve turned his head to look at Scott but left it resting against the counter. “I feel like we crossed a line.”

“You technically violated the mission code of ethics, but.”

Steve snapped up and covered his face with his hands, index fingers pinching the corners of his eyes. “But kissing her didn’t feel wrong. Holding her didn’t feel wrong.”

Scott was in the middle of a rom com. He had to be. There was always that scene where one of the partners freaked out because they themselves didn’t know their own feelings. They would cower in their own little world for about fifteen minutes, or at least fifteen minutes of screentime, and then gain the courage to talk it through. Scott was just that random friend who happened to ask what was wrong. 

But you and Steve were his teammates. The two of you had helped him get his family back. You had been so excited to try out the time machine, shutting everyone else up as they bullied him for simply having the idea. Steve risked his life for him more times than he could count in the past two years. He always suspected something was wrong between the two of you. But no one was brave enough to openly speak about what had happened that night. He just knew what Sam had told him - ‘It’s none of our business. They’re both acting like children. But Steve, even though I love him with all my heart, royally fucked up.’

“Then why are you so worried? Steve, I wasn’t around those five years. Only you know your relationship with her.”

“I don’t deserve it,” Steve mumbled.

His ears were playing tricks. He had gone deaf. “Huh?”

Steve explained further, his face falling with each new confession he spoke verbally. He hadn’t even discussed these feelings with his therapist. Granted, he only spoke of you when you were being a pain in his ass, but romantically? “I don’t deserve to touch her, to have her, to be with her. I left her alone at her most vulnerable, and that you were here for so you know.”

Scott shook his head, “But I have no real say in that. Like I said, only you know what you feel.”

He finished his juice and leaned back in his chair. He clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder and they both turned their attention to the tiny television mounted on the wall playing the morning news. It was hard to believe that a couple years ago, Scott had completely fangirled over being in Steve’s presence. Now he was one of his closest friends. 

His next thought seemed to register slowly and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Wait, did you leave her to wake up alone?”

Steve paused and bit down on his tongue. “I, may have done that.”

Scott nodded as he received the confirmation. “You know, Bucky and Wanda have a bet going on over which of you will kill the other first. I think you tipped the victory to her, man.”

Steve returned the slap to the shoulder and stood up. “Thanks, Scott.”

He followed Steve out the entrance. “I don’t feel like this conversation is over, but you gotta go back up there. I’m always here if you want to talk.”

Steve sent him a genuine smile as he walked backwards to the stairs instead of the elevator. “Don’t bring it up.”

Scott saluted him, “I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.”

“That didn’t make any-”

Scott clicked the button for the elevator and waved Steve off, “It’s from a show my daughter used to watch, hey, you know what, forget about it.”

    Steve doesn’t quite know what propels him up the stairs instead of the elevator, but it’s probably the need to burn at least one calorie before facing the music. It was an idiotic move leaving you alone to unravel such a major change, and Steve was tired of running. The amount of times he claimed he could ‘do this all day’ and yet, he let the final battle dictate his life afterward. He was just so tired of running from things that required him to stay, and staying for things that destroyed his mental health. 

Scott carried the conversation as they reentered the room, finding you already dressed and smiling bright. But that smile was directed at Scott, a brilliant smile that Steve had been the recipient of just yesterday. 

God, he really fucked up, didn’t he?

“We got a plan?”

It was like clockwork, movements fluid and known. The three of you were slightly out of it, missions depleting in urgency and all. The last mission you had been on in the last two years, besides the ones your father sent you on, had been to a base in Prague where you ran a two-week surveillance on a doctor who was trying to recreate the super soldier serum. Even then there wasn’t much of a physical fight and you were mainly there to assist Sam and Bucky. 

“We’ll get there by 9. You’ll have to shrink down before we even pass the gates.”

Scott drafted the specifics in his notebook, taking careful notes on what he was to look for inside your father’s office. He was instructed to hack the keyboard to list the most used formations of characters, scan for fingerprints, and work through the paper files your father hadn’t yet had time to put away. Once a password was figured out, then the hacking would commence during the rehearsal dinner. 

“Y/N and I will be led through the estate by Seda, no doubt. Once you hear that we’re seated and enjoying breakfast, you can start your deep search.”

Scott added the finishing touches to his suit - upgrades from both Hank and Tony, before he passed of course. 

“Anything I should know? I’m going in blind while you guys have some experience with this crowd.”

You attached the camouflage mic to the back of your neck as you responded, “His office hallway doesn’t have cameras. Neither does the inside. You, as well as Steve and I, are under strict orders to not kill anyone.”

Scott squinted his eyes, “I wasn’t planning on doing that anyway.”

You chuckled, “These are violent people, Scott. In order to win, we need to play the part. Which means unless we say the safe word ‘widow’, you can’t intervene.”

Scott searched your face for a joke, the briefing you all had before you shipped out replaying in his head. You had mentioned Seda shot you and that your father basically hated you, but to see you serious now - it was a little unnerving. Sure, he fought aliens and faced off against some of the most evil forces in the universe. But this was family, and when it was family with the evil gene, it made everything much more horrible.

“Okay.”

You all gathered your equipment and headed down to the car. Steve safely hid the shield in the trunk, foregoing any additional weapons than those already attached to his person. He couldn’t risk Ernesto’s men randomly searching the car during breakfast. 

You were already waiting in the passenger seat when Scott gripped Steve’s arm as they finished loading the trunk. 

“You protect her, alright?”

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew Scott wasn’t doubting his ability to do so, but his trust was being enlisted. There wasn’t even a second option. 

Steve would grip the heavens by their feet and pull for the creation of even more fallen angels just for you. 

“I will.” 

     The drive to the estate was a lot less stressful this time. Only because you knew who to expect now. You wouldn’t be catching up with your sister until tomorrow, and you already had an idea what your father was scheming up. The three of you just drove in silence, Steve at the wheel and Scott in the backseat. 

You thought, maybe Steve didn’t fully regret what happened after all. Leaving in the morning was for sure a dick move, but his attitude wasn’t one of someone who would simply ‘hit it, and quit it’. You took pride in what you knew about your Captain, about Steve as a separate entity, and you always expected the best from him. 

Anyone who thought or assumed otherwise was an idiot.

Scott had shrunk down and prepared his own mics as Steve drove onto the deserted dirt road. There were dozens of cars parked outside, but it looked as if their owners were all workers. Considering the wedding was only two days away and the rehearsal dinner was tomorrow, the workers multiplied and were working overtime. Leave it to your father to make the finishing touches at the last minute. 

Once again, Seda stood outside to greet you and Steve. He looked extra chipper this morning, his aging face contorted into an almost painful smile. And you knew that whenever he smiled at you, he wasn’t harboring the greatest intentions. 

“Good to see you again!”

You slung your arm through Steve’s, unconscious to the fact that Scott stood on your shoulder and hid behind strands of hair. You responded, “Careful, you’ll get cavities with that much sweetness.”

His smile fell slightly, and he looked away to roll his eyes. “Must be contagious considering you’re so full of sugar!”

“You’re weird when you’re nice.”

“Now, I was just about to say the same thing.” Seda held his hand out to Steve, delighted in the strength of his grip. “Captain.”

Steve smirked, a dangerous glint settling in his eyes. The longer hair and beard really did make him look like the anti-Cap. “Sir. Are you joining us for breakfast?”

Seda turned to walk through the open doors. “Of course. Ernesto’s business is as much mine as it is his.”

You let out a tiny snort, “Don’t think he would agree.”

Seda rotated on his heel so quickly the sound of the squeak echoed through the vast mansion. He held his finger out at you, that famous scowl you had grown accustomed to finally making its appearance. “Bite your tongue.”

In an instant, Steve gripped your cheeks and chin with one hand, holding you still to look at Seda. He hated this. He wanted to fight them now.

While you were held in place for him, Seda stepped closer. You could feel the heat of his breath. “I carried this empire while he was dirt.”

Steve’s hand was loose, but his wild look could easily be mistaken for anger toward you. 

Seda’s eyes were cold, filled with an undeniable amount of hatred and selfishness, like he wanted to see you beg for forgiveness. No matter the countless times when any other human being would be crying for mercy, you never did. And Seda despised this skill with all his tainted soul. 

“And look where that got you. Right back in second place.”

For the second time this week, Steve wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

Seda’s facial muscles flinched, but he kept his composure. There were too many outside workers wandering around, instructed already to keep their mouths shut about who employed them and were to be paid under the table. With his own tongue bitten, he muttered almost achingly. “Breakfast is this way.”

Letting go of you after Seda turned back around, Steve gently massaged the sides of your chin for a few seconds as you walked. Turning your head quickly left and right and passing a room with no traceable cameras, you caught his hand and pressed your lips gently to his knuckles. Before he could truly enjoy the gentle gesture, you pulled away. And he knew you had to. You had to.

Scott took his leave, jumping onto the nearby potted plant and connecting back with Torres. 

Breakfast was served on the large patio near the west side of the estate. It overlooked a massive man-made lake, rocks circling the bank, and multiple lake chairs facing it. The estate was well hidden away in the forest, tall pine trees enveloping the illegal nature of all that was said and done. The clouds were creating a dark overcast that meant it was going to rain later, maybe soon, and it was going to be heavy. The crew outback had constructed a massive wooden canopy ‘tent’ that extended from one side of land to the other. So if it did rain on the day of the wedding, the only evidence of it would be the wetness reflecting off the soft violet lights they were just now hanging. The tables were set up, minus the chairs and wall decorations, and the staff were barely constructing the floor. 

By instinct, you had already clocked the easiest exit routes and hiding places. The warehouse near the lake looked sturdy - two windows wide enough to shoot from. Steve would have to crouch down low though, so perhaps the wooden table could serve as a temporary shield. 

There had to be a way to casually bring that shield to both the rehearsal dinner and wedding without raising red flags. 

Seda paused and excused himself. While Steve entertained the questions of some of the men casually strolling through, you reached into your pocket and pulled out some new tech you had been dying to finally use. Tony had messed around with so many personalized gadgets for everyone. Peter had his flying spiders, Clint had his flying stars and arrows, and you had your flying butterflies. Little metallic wonders with life-like wing speed that recorded its surroundings and transcribed for your report later. 

It flew gracefully, circling around the tables and even stopping on the window’s edge for a natural effect before flying near Seda and whoever he was talking to. It fluttered and settled, a small light emitting from its antennas. It would fly back once the subject chosen finished speaking. 

While you waited, you wandered. You hadn’t really explored this estate since you were a child but from what you remembered, there was always something new to discover. As a kid, you had asked whoever was present, ‘Is this real?’, ‘Was it alive before?’, ‘How old is this?’.

Roman busts, paintings hanging and stored alike, the ivory tusks. Didn’t seem like your father was collecting much these days. Dust was settled and undisturbed and the stuffed animals needed a serious scrub. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if your father had stashed away the damn tesseract at one point or another. 

“Oh, yeeesss,” you whispered, scurrying to the trunk hidden below the pile of discarded tablecloths and curtains. No one else ventured to these rooms, and although there were priceless items stashed away here, they normally functioned as the children's playrooms. There was more money to be made selling drugs than selling ancient artifacts. 

Just like many of the other rooms, this room was basically abandoned. No evidence of swiped fingers or anything. Your attention was drawn to the black trunk, scratched up on the left side and lock practically useless. If you remembered correctly, your iPod shuffle and middle school diary should be in here. 

As corny as that sounded, perhaps the diary had something inside you could work with and use to help aid in the mission. 

The trunk creaked and moaned as you lifted the lid open. You blew the excess of cobwebs away, scanning the corners quickly for any live spiders. Just in case. 

You did, in fact, find the diary. But only the first ten pages were filled out and dated, detailing the story, and quote, ‘2011, what a stupid number! Can’t anything but violence happen?’

Yes young Y/N, you thought to yourself, 2012 was one hell of a year and infinitely worse than stupid little 2011. 

The mountain of miscellaneous items was astounding, swirling up the childhood emotions you seriously missed. There was just something about random, mix-matched, old items that made you giddy. 

When Shield returned Steve’s belongings that had been locked in storage or in the museum when he was pronounced KIA, you were the one bouncing up and down behind him as he opened the boxes. He’d inspect the old watch, pencil set, photographs, clothing item, whatever and then pass it over to you. And he’d pretend to act annoyed by your interest, but the fact that you wanted to learn more about Steve and his life before the war - it was humbling. 

‘Hey, Y/N. You want to know how much porn I just found on Seda’s personal laptop?’

Your whole body was overcome by shivers. You nudged the mic to turn it up louder. “Scott, what the fuck?”

He tried to contain his laughter. ‘My mission is to hunt, gather, and hack. You’ll be pleased to know I got more than just their internet history.’

“Ew.”

A small, red velvet box shoved in the upper left hand corner caught your attention. It’s engraving showed none other than ‘Oxford University’ and that was enough to conclude this too was stolen. You chuckled at how ridiculous this all was. 

Believe it or not, the most legal things in the estate were the stuffed exotic animals and tusks of ivory that had been collected before the nationwide bans. 

This small box contained a few dozen coins from ancient Rome, all of different faces and years. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you mumbled, finger-fishing through the box. You made a mental note to instruct your team to also seize and catalog everything that was stolen here. Give Fury more of a headache. 

The figurehead on one of the coins made you pause for a second. The artwork was not as professional as much larger engravings found on the other coins or artifacts, but the features were proud. It was of a man, curly hair and beard to match, with a prominent and strong nose. If you squint hard enough, the hair and beard were Steve’s, absolutely as he had it groomed right now. Last time Steve had grown his hair out this long he was on the run. Guess he really missed the rugged look. 

But that nose. Strong and long and definitely punched to the brim many times before. The last person to set it had been Clint - and the reset had left it looking slightly crooked. Just like the man on the coin. 

“What a beak you got on you, Rogers,” you smiled. You shut the box after pocketing the coin. Making sure everything else was in place, you exited and checked your mic for any unusual activity. You could hear Steve casually speaking and Scott humming under his breath. 

Your little butterfly was spinning in a large circle until it spotted you. It reattached itself to your belt discreetly. 

Seda marched back, looking more annoyed than when he had first greeted you. “Shall we?”

Similar to how he was situated back in his office, comfortable and relaxed in his element, your father sat closest to the lake around the round table, no doubt enjoying the breeze aimed in his direction. The table was full of various foods - mostly fruit and drinks - but there were sides of meats and bread hidden in the pile. 

Ernesto looked like an innocent old man bathed in the colorful array. He was eighty-two (if you count those five years, then he’s only seventy-seven), and it wasn’t just the fruit that made him seem innocent - with the absence of a scowl or a gun in his unbelievably steady hand, he looked like every old man on the planet. An old man with a secret. 

“It’s not everyday you get to dine with the Captain America!”

Already his voice annoyed Steve. But as eloquent as ever, he responded lightly. “It’s an honor, sir.”

Your father sipped his juice, waiting until you were both seated to continue. “So polite, I remember how it used to be.”

Steve shrugged, “The good ole’ days.”

“Exactly. You see, I’m hoping to bring those good ole’ days back.”

“Gonna run for office?” you quipped, reaching over to pop a grape into your mouth. 

Keeping his eyes trained on Steve, your father retorted. “Your jokes aren’t that funny, Y/N.”

“I think I’m pretty funny,” you mumbled through a funny frown. 

The sooner you get some valuable information, the sooner you could leave. At least, that’s what Steve had been reciting in his head as he bit his tongue at your attempt at being funny. “What did you have in mind?”

Ernesto stretched, motioning for the men behind him to pass him some documents from a nearby table. He passed them to Steve, completely ignoring you. “You see, I’m thinking of expanding business. Not just here in the U.S and in Mexico, but across the Atlantic.”

You resisted the urge to sneak a peek at the documents. So you opted to keep him talking. “Woah, you’re not thinking of toppling White, are you?”

Ernesto scoffed, “You think I have a death wish? No, I’m thinking of joining forces.”

You played dumb. “What?”

Seda squinted, stepping forward and gripping your wrist mid-air, evidently stopping you from popping another grape into your mouth. Steve turned his head to stare at Seda with a real and deep grimace, basically instructing him to let go of you as soon as possible. Acting like an asshole when your father was the instigator was one thing, and he hated that he had to bend over for him. But Seda wasn’t in charge, nor would he ever be again, and his hand on you didn’t have to be tolerated. Yes, he knew to keep up the asshole act, but obsessive and protective boyfriend fit the bill as well, he assumed. 

Reluctantly, Seda got the message and let you go. He answered your question after a few awkward seconds, “Expanding into Europe means we dominate the world. Everyone knows that. Europe is the epicenter.”

Oblivious to the whole stare down, you resumed your questioning. “And we come in, where?”

“Your missions - they take you across the ocean, yes?” your father chimed in. 

“Sometimes, sir. We’re away pretty often.” Steve answered. 

“Then that’s perfect. All those opportunities to smuggle my product on your company planes.”

You scrunched your eyebrows in deep thought, almost like you were doing the math in your head. “I doubt the quinjet would pass a weight inspection, Father.”

Ernesto raised his hands in mock offense. “Your Captain here should be able to pull some strings, no?”

Hiding his discomfort, Steve shrugged like it was no big deal. “It would certainly be a difficult task but we can pull through.”

No. Steve has never handled the product, he has never seen the product being moved, he has never signed off on anything pertaining to said product. Fury did - Fury set up everything, he made sure to keep Steve out of it, he protected the shield, he protected Steve. On your word.

Ernesto knew you were the one handling it. He knew Steve wasn’t anywhere near it since you made it abundantly clear that he only green lit the passage routes. 

He was doing this on purpose. Testing Steve’s loyalty in a way. Tying any Avenger’s gadgets to the smuggling, especially transportation methods that were rarely, if ever checked when entering a foreign country, was a violation.  And this violation would then make every Avenger a drug smuggler - a real one - and no one, not even Torres could back you up.  

Blinded by this possible reality, you countered with the best argument you had. “He’s ‘Captain America’. Which means he stays within our borders.”

Ernesto paused mid-drink, a grin forming. He stared at you in surprise, “I’m sorry, did you just give me an order?”

You backtracked, breath still steady. Steve tried to mask his worry by also drinking. “No, I’m trying to help you. What about Ramirez?”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

It was silent for a long while. Steve knew better than to come between the uncomfortable glares you and your father were sharing. Ernesto’s answer was confirmation enough for your proposed theory.

He ventured a glance at Seda, who was already looking at him. Confusion rattled him to the bone, but before he could dissect any possible assumption as to why, your father snapped his fingers. 

Seda moved too quickly. He always followed Ernesto’s orders like they were holy commandments, but he had seriously wanted this. He was the muscle after all. 

Seda picked you up out of your seat with the force of one hand, fingers gripped under your chin and squishing your cheeks painfully. With his other hand, he pushed your back forward and held you down on the table. The impact of your body had shattered the plate beneath your chest. But that pain was minimal compared to the elbow digging in between your shoulder blades. 

Almost as quickly as Seda had pounced, Steve was standing. The sound of every gun on the patio cocking rang in his ears, but god forbid that be louder than the sudden squeal that had left your mouth from the force of your assault.  

“See? I give the orders,” Ernesto said, still sitting casually in his seat. “Now, test me again.”

      “There are worse ways to go.”

Natasha was always so calm during these types of situations. A blank face that disguised the true fright she really felt, a mask in other words. But Steve knew the only reason she did that was for the benefit of those around her, regular civilian or superhero alike. She would always keep such a calm demeanor, voice steady and eyes boring into one’s soul as if to transfer whatever inner peace she could find. 

When he had found out Bucky was alive, unresponsive and an empty shell of a man HYDRA had made him, he crumbled into the panic attack he had long awaited. Being thrust into the 21st century without a lick of his past was one thing. But to barely start getting used to this new world, only to be handed the most crazy plot twist of his life, well, it was enough to destroy whatever progress he thought he made. 

And while he rocked himself through it, massive shoulders poking his jawline uncomfortably as he curled in on himself, Natasha had simply laid a cup of tea in front of him and retreated to the other corner of the room, no words exchanged. Good, because he didn’t want to talk about it. 

“Is everyone on?”

The planes were being loaded at the fastest rate they could, the only remaining Avengers on land being him, Natasha, and Clint. From what he could see.

“I gotta go get Banner. You head on over to Clint.”

And they functioned like that for the next few minutes, grabbing civilians along the way and praying they themselves would make it to one of those planes. The sudden shower of bullets crushed the hope of that, and Steve stared down at Pietro with an immense guilt about not getting there sooner. 

Losing a teammate, even if that teammate was recruited just a day ago, always hits hard. But they were the Avengers, and if any comic book or superhero movie had been right, then no one ever really died! Yeah, fat chance. 

Steve counted as many heads as he could. He saw Natasha off to the side, and Clint had just stumbled on, and Y/N was-

Wait, where were you?

Steve grabbed his shield and hooked it onto his back, running off the plane and back onto the floating land, ignoring Clint’s yells of ‘get the fuck back here, Rogers!’

“Does anyone have eyes on Y/N?”

The responses were no help; Rhodey had circled the city twice over searching for you, and there was no sign. Maybe you were with Wanda, maybe you were on another plane, maybe you were with Thor and he promised to pick you up and protect you once he catapulted himself - 

‘I’m gonna need you to get your ass back on that plane, Capsicle,’ Tony yelled, interrupting himself as he made painful contact with falling debris. 

Steve was on autopilot, scared out of his damn mind. He never wanted this job, he never wanted to continue working for the government, it was just war after war after war. He just wanted to find Bucky, he just wanted to settle down with a fucking cat or something, he just wanted to live the life he missed out on. But he was also hell bent on saving everyone he could. A sick satisfaction of using the serum’s gifts for what he was built for, a science project and weapon of war. He hated it, he wanted to shrivel back down to his ninety-pound self and pay a goddamn penny for a movie screening again. 

But he had a job to do and he was one of the few people on earth who could actually accomplish it. So, no - Steve will not quit when people need him. He’ll just have to bear it some other way; belt in between his teeth as he clenches down. Because Steve would literally destroy himself for any of his teammates until he was nothing but a pile of discarded remains. 

“What the hell are you still doing on land, Captain?”

He whipped his head to the side and found you, holding a frightened looking dog in your arms, smudges of rubble covering your cheeks and bodysuit. “Oh my god.”

You stomped over to him, the dog clutched to your chest and a tiny limp in your step. “Answer me, Rogers!”

Steve only stared, blinking quickly until an invisible boot kicked him back into gear. His voice was high-pitched as he screamed at you. “You went back for the dog?”

Your face contorted, “Of course I went back for the fucking dog!”

A ridiculous thing, an utter masterpiece of work you were, a vice that gripped him by the throat and would always press down tighter until he was gasping for breath. You went back for the damn dog, and he was about to break down crying not knowing where you were. He just lost one teammate - he couldn’t lose another.

“Well, let’s go!”

Your voice seemed to shock him back into Captain America mode, and as the city leveled and the ground started to break apart, he hoisted you up and onto the plane while making the leap himself. 

     At this point, Steve would blindly agree to anything. If it meant pulling you out of this, he’d do it. He found himself negotiating instantly, like any other hostage situation he had dealt with. “I’m sure our planes can handle a few extra pounds.”

Made sense for Steve to agree - wasn’t like it was going to happen anyway. But the mere thought of having him take the fall for this entire mission going sideways, well, it had ignited the stupid part of your brain. You could have blown this whole mission. You could have blown it all because your father had been doing what he does best: taunting you. And you let it happen. 

“I have already sent word to White that your Captain will be working with him now, too. Anything to topple Ramirez from the top three.”

You lifted your head to glare at your father. “Why didn’t I get a say? I’m as influential as you two!” You grit your teeth. “You did this without consulting us first. So, then what was this?”

Seda applied the full force of his weight, his elbow now pinching into the muscle and causing you to see black spots. You tried to restrain your scream, but it escaped. A few birds left their perch, flying away from the high-pitched noise.

Steve saw red. Bursting flames that climbed and licked up to formless heights and blurred his vision to the point he was pre-serumed, standing small and physically weak again. And pre-serum Steve would happily accept the punches he had coming if he dare intervene. But even if this red was bolstering hot and clawing at his flesh, stepping in now would mean chaos. He couldn’t do anything, he was restricted, strapped down by your own rule, and helplessly watching as your face twisted in pain. 

He felt his heart tearing in two, and yet his face remained calm. Calm and collected. 

“See this as a means to inform you.”

If Seda were to push down again, you figured you’d go out fighting. “A coup? Father, you shouldn’t have.”

“Do we have a deal?” 

If he hooked his arm under the left side of the table and threw it at the correct angle, he would blindside your father and throw Seda off balance, allowing you to take him down. But there were men posted to both his sides and behind him, guns already cocked like they had suspected Captain America to react negatively. 

Scott had to be hearing everything, the poor guy, but you had also instructed him to let you be thrown around like a ragdoll, that you were used to it. Knowing Scott, he would honor your word as scripture for the sake of the mission.

Steve couldn’t stand to look at you in pain anymore. A small part of him wanted to yell, ‘Well stop talking and he’ll get the hell off you!’, like it was ultimately your fault, but he swallowed that shallow thought and bargained instead. “I’ll be needing a copy of your word. For insurance purposes.”

If there was one thing Ernesto respected, it was a man with his own personal agenda. “I knew I liked him, Y/N. A man who knows what he wants and how to make sure it lasts.”

You reached over discreetly, finding Steve’s hand to squeeze tightly. He squeezes back.

The next few minutes were a blur, really. You passed it with pinched eyes and a few uncomfortable moans as Steve and your father wrote up a formal agreement. 

Seda removed himself after Steve signed. You tried not to think too much of it; the contract can be considered void. Torres would look into it. Steve will not become truly involved. 

Your father excused himself and Seda after the pen left paper, leaving the both of you alone.

Steve wanted to hold you, to shield you with his own flesh and bone, to remind you he was on your side. That he would always be on your side. 

The men who escorted you were deep in their own conversations, guns still raised but minds momentarily distracted. So he reached for your hand, an involuntary chuckle escaping him as he saw Scott’s miniature self hiking up the arm he had just grabbed. Your grip was loose, like your mind was elsewhere. 

You all entered the car and buckled up without alerting the men of any wrongdoings. Scott waited until you drove past the cameras and the estate grew smaller in his eyes to return to his normal size. 

They were both worried, eyes meeting in the mirror as if to communicate it. You were so silent, so still, simply looking out the window. Their voices were slightly distorted, far away calls for your attention and you were drowning, suffocating and forgetting that when caught in a riptide, you need to swim sideways and not directly to land-

One quick sob was all it took for Steve to check his mirrors and turn the car into the crowd of pine trees, burying the three of you in their depth and providing temporary solace from the outside world. Your throat burned and itched with the need to cry harder, but you stopped yourself. 

This had happened before. You’ve been subdued and taunted before. Hell, worse has happened to you and you always seemed to hold in the tears until you were in the comfort of your own room or in Natasha’s arms. 

But there was no single room for you to run off to and there was no more Natasha-

It took a moment to register that your seatbelt had been unbuckled, Steve had exited the vehicle, and Scott was already tugging you by the underarms and into the backseat. You were then squished between the two men, with Steve manually tilting your head to rest on the expanse of his chest and Scott with his arms wrapped around your waist to mimic a massive bear hug. 

They let you ride out whatever broken sobs your body produced. There were few tears and your breakdown was amateur at best, but you still broke. There was no point in trying to diminish its importance. You were here, and you had both fresh and dry tear streaks, and it was important to feel. 

At least that’s what Steve had been reciting for the past two minutes as he ran his fingers through your hair. 

You sniffed and wiped your cheeks, rolling your eyes at yourself. “I’m sorry, this is really embarrassing.”

Scott leaned back to stare at you in pure disbelief, “You have every right to scream, to cry, to tear this world apart. You have a right to feel.”

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe him. 

If Scott wasn’t here, perhaps Steve would allow himself to cry with you. His masculinity was intact, thank you very much, but Scott didn’t need to console two people at once. So he swallowed his pain, secured it back into the safe within his heart that was specifically constructed for you, and held you tighter. 

Out of nowhere, Scott patted your thigh multiple times like a child begging for attention. “We need comfort food. We’ve all had a rough day and it’s not even two o’clock yet! Nothing some french fries and burgers can’t fix!”

It had slipped your mind how little you had actually gotten to eat. Just a few sips of coffee and some grapes. Wasn’t your fault there were more important things to focus on. 

“Can we get, like, a massive tray of fries?” you smiled. 

Scott’s eyes lit up. 

Lots of things are so simple. Or, in theory. Boiling water is simple. Doing laundry. Pumping gas. 

But then there are those simple things that are just not so accessible to everyone. Like, it was simple for Bruce to learn and teach theoretical physics. It was simple for Peter to catch a bus with his bare hands. It was simple for Thor to call upon thunder and lightning and for Loki to cause some mischief. 

For Steve, eating his body weight in fries was simple. 

For Scott, opening the ketchup packets without his thumbs sliding was simple. 

For you, stealing Steve’s fries was simple. 

Maybe because he didn’t stop you. 

     It’s crazy how just a few hours with some close friends made every problem in the world seem nonexistent. You were replenished, in a sense, ready to put any embarrassment and self-hatred behind you in preparation for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow. Everything up until now was child’s play - now, there were no restraints. You were instructed to strike on the wedding day as that was the day the shipment was moving, but if anything truly dangerous occurred tomorrow, Fury had given the green light to shoot.

It would have been a blessing to just have one more quiet night in, maybe enjoy some more special alone time with Steve. There was a conversation to be had, feelings to be discussed, an argument to start. There needed to be screaming, and crying, and eye rolling - all needed to happen. 

Yes, that would have been great. 

Steve launched the shield across the room the second Scott pushed open the door, the crack of bone and vibranium sounding off. Scott had already unclicked his gun safety, weapon pointed directly at the intruder - who had collapsed to the floor with a bleeding shin clutched in between his hands. You didn’t even realize your gun was also out and cocked. Instinct - skill you had acquired from Natasha and Rhodey. 

Sometimes you wish you could forget how to hold a gun altogether. 

Ramirez was on the floor, having only released a loud howl when the shield connected. He just panted lowly, eyes squeezed shut. He desperately tried to raise his hands. 

“Please… don’t shoot.”

Steve stepped forward, shield braced and covering both you and Scott. You stayed near the door in case Ramirez had any other friends visiting. 

You turned on your mic and hoped it patched through. “Widow.” 

“How did you get past security? How did you know which hotel we were at?”

Ramirez looked over at you, eyes pleading for help from Steve’s questions or from the physical pain. You really couldn’t tell. 

“Answer the questions, Omar.” You used his first name - that told him you were serious. 

“Someone took their smoke break.” He breathed in uneven cycles. “I followed you the first day you arrived.”

Completely baffled, you looked to Scott for some answer he clearly didn’t have. 

“That’s not possible. Our people swept the area, we had eyes on you and-”

Ramirez interrupted shyly, “You had eyes on me. Not my connections.”

“Your men were followed, too.”

Although he was groaning, he still responded as softly as possible. “Connections, mija. They aren’t all a part of the mob.”

Every guest who checked in and out of the hotel were screened for that week. Every employee was vetted. 

“If you’re wondering who it was, I’ll save you the time and say it was simply a passerby who didn’t even enter the hotel. Just followed, then made a U-turn.”

Scott scoffed and lowered his gun, “If it really was that easy…”

Steve kneeled to be eye-level with Ramirez. “Then that means Ernesto already knows about Scott and Torres.”

As quickly as Steve declared this, Ramirez shook his head. “No! I’m not on Ernesto’s side anymore. Haven’t been for a long time!”

“Prove it.”

Ramirez stared at you, eyes pleading for trust. He didn’t look all that intimidating. Short black hair, wrinkles minimal and clothes well-pressed, slim and dark skin clear of any blemishes - he looked like every guy who you would see at the bank. He remained pleading even after Steve patted him down. 

Still kneeling and leg slightly extended to relieve some of the pain, he started to explain himself. “I know when people are acting.”

“What?”

“When you pressed the gun to her chin,” he motioned his hand between you and Steve, “you held her hand.”

Lowering your gun and dropping your shoulders, you released a deep sigh. “You were behind us.”

He agreed, “I was behind you.” He inspected the room with a small smile, glancing at all three of you in amusement. Once his sight rested on Steve, he tipped his chin up and smirked. “I heard you could pick up Thor’s hammer.”

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, annoyed, and turned to check the hallway. Your mic was muffled, but you swore you could make out the voices of Torres and Sam.

“Any man who can do that is good, right?”

Scott nodded, “According to legend-”

Steve blinked at him, “Scott.”

“That little gesture of care, plus the cell phone videos I saw you in from two years ago-” Ramirez started, but was interrupted. 

Steve squinted, “Saw us where?”

“The phone videos on Youtube.”

You stepped back into the room, stuttering over your words. “What phone videos? Be clearer.”

“You defended that child. The - the spider child,” he pointed at Steve, wincing as he shifted his leg. “And you got into that bar fight, busted someone's head into the floor.”

“No, PR made sure they were deleted. Hill said there was no trace of them-”

“My two youngest daughters were fifteen at the time. They knew about the video the minute it aired. They saved it.”

Scott sighed, shaking his head at the memory of having to bail both you and Sam out of jail. It was a nice turn of the tables, though. “...We didn’t factor in the possibility of teenagers screen recording?”

Ramirez chuckled, “Seems not.”

     It was certainly an eventful night for PR. A complete disaster they had to cover up and twist for the media. There were four Avengers mixed up in this chaos, and since the perpetrators didn’t quite succeed in kicking your asses, PR might just finish the job for them. 

On one side of town, Steve was responding to an urgent call from Happy asking if he was in the vicinity. Peter had been visiting a study group in Brooklyn, careful as ever, but still stumbled upon bullies. Steve lived close and instead of ringing the whole team, Happy put his trust in the person Tony would have also called. 

It was a scene he hoped he would never have to witness again. To see such cruelty months after the final battle, a battle everyone knew the kid played a major part in, it tore Steve apart shred by miserable shred.

Peter was crouched against an alley wall, shielding his face with his arms as five boys around his age pounded away. He appeared to be clutching his phone, the line still connected with Happy, and he was begging them to stop. 

Steve had never run so fast. He dodged a few cars and strollers along the way, mind fogged with desperation and anger. He now knew how Bucky felt when he saved Steve from all those alley fights back in the day.

It didn’t even register in his mind that he had pulled at least two of the boys away and threw them into the opposite wall, or that he had clutched one's throat so tight that Peter’s thumbs were now digging under his clenched palm with the plea of ‘Cap, let him go!’.  

He dropped the boy, no more than seventeen, on the ground and stepped away to inspect Peter. A busted lip, what looked to be two purpling eyes, torn clothing, and bruises along his ribcage that showed through the new holes in his shirt. The five boys all stood and cowered backwards. 

They shouted and name-called, spit on the floor and taunted the two superheroes. It wasn’t until Peter leaned into Steve’s chest and pushed him back that Steve realized one of the boys was recording the whole thing. 

Against his better judgement, he let them go. There wasn't anything beneficial to be done besides file a police report - not that it would do much anyway. 

He took Peter back to his apartment and called Happy himself. He stitched the nasty cut on the kid’s forehead. He fed him some soup and crackers. He gave him some spare clothes that had shrunk in the washer. Peter’s smile was so broken as he interrupted the silence while Steve cleaned away the dry blood, a simple explanation of ‘I obviously couldn’t fight back’. 

And fuck, Steve knew the kid was right. 

On the other side of town, the night had started pretty nicely. Two beers in and your conversation with Sam was littered with constant laughter and childhood stories. The bar wasn’t that crowded for a Thursday night, just a few regulars and a small office party.

Your conversation was interrupted by two men who had clearly been holding their tongue. First they harassed you for being Avengers and destroying the city every other week - which granted, was a pretty reasonable argument. You let that one slide. But then they hassled you on who you employed: an ex-con who was clearly only abusing his influence on Hank Pym, a mental woman who took an entire town hostage because she was obviously evil at heart and a witch (‘fuck her children, what about mine?!’), and a teenager who had murdered a true superhero who was only trying to warn and rid the world of him. 

You and Sam remained seated, jaws clenched and hands wrapped tightly around your drinks. If you ignored them long enough, they would go away. The bartender will surely throw them out, they were becoming too rowdy. You were better than them and there was absolutely no need to freak out over words. They were just words. 

“I say we head on over to Queens and pay that sweet Aunt of his a visit!”

Sam let out a quick and prepared sigh, “Shit.”

He threw the first punch, launching himself at the biggest of the two men and hitting the ground. You leaped over the bar counter and tackled the second guy before he could join Sam’s fight. He was clearly caught off guard, arms fumbling wildly as he tried and failed to keep his balance. But your sudden momentum caused his decline, and you were hammering your fist down onto his face like your life depended on it. 

Sam quickly took his gun from his pocket and threw it across the room. He couldn’t risk either of the guys getting a hold of it. He rolled onto all fours before sweeping his leg to trip the guy as he attempted to stand. He shuffled and grabbed one of his arms, legs wrapping themselves over the dude’s shoulders and squeezing his neck. If there was one thing Natasha had taught her friends, it was how to subdue a man with just the thighs. 

The brawl lasted maybe a good two minutes before other customers stepped in and separated you. Out of anger, you kept kicking and struggling. It wasn’t until the doors burst open and police drew their batons that you realized you royally fucked up. Everything was eerily silent and out of pure personality, you scooted away from the remnants of the fight as discreetly (but most obviously) as you could. 

You were booked, charges later dropped. Sam’s mugshot showcased a thin smile, like he knew the record would be expunged within the hour. Yours displayed a cocked eyebrow and slightly pursed lips. 

Yeah, PR didn’t have a nice night.

     “What about the videos, Omar?”

Ramirez gave you a sincere look, “No one on Ernesto’s team risks their reputation like that. You have his rage, but he doesn’t have your morality. Save the next question, I know what you two were fighting about.”

Even if you did get caught and the videos went viral, there was no way the world could know your connections. “The world doesn’t know about my family connections. Fury made sure to never input it into Shield’s database.”

“Imagine how terrified Ernesto was when the Russian spilled all their secrets.”

“Natasha,” Steve asserted. “Her name was Natasha.”

Ramirez bowed his head, “Natasha. I’m sorry.” He turned back to you. “You were barely starting out when that happened, no?” 

You were getting impatient with no backup. “Your point?”

“You’re working against him, aren’t you? You’ve always been working against him.”

You raised your gun again and stalked toward him. “Choose your next words carefully.”

Again, he raised his hands in defense. “I’m not with him. He doesn’t know I’m here, neither does White.” 

There was a long pause as you all pondered over his admission. Even though you vouched for him just yesterday, there was still so much to consider before jumping to his conclusion. “I think they’re plotting to kill me.”

Steve chuckled under his breath, “We know.”

Ramirez reacted like he was just slapped in the face. “You know?”

After a long train of thought, Scott interjected with his own idea. “That plot of land you bought - it’s not for drugs, is it?”

“I mean, half of it is for drugs.”

“Omar,” you demanded.

“Yes, yes. But the other half is entirely unrelated.”

Scott motioned for him to continue, “Enlighten us.”

And the small, proud smile on his face gave you the feeling he really was telling the truth. “It’s a refugee camp.”

Steve stuttered, “Drugs and refugees?”

Ramirez pushed himself toward the nearby chair and hoisted himself up. “I know it sounds crazy. Trust me, I know.” He let out a pained hiss. “But the Mexican government has already approved it. Well, if you can call it a government. They’re one of the few who still haven’t recovered from everyone coming back.”

“So, what? Are you making the refugees work for you?” you questioned. 

Ramirez widened his eyes. “What? No, no! The drugs are for income. For food, shelter, medicine, todo lo demas!”

Steve huffed, “Let me guess. The drugs aren’t real and anyone who finds out the truth will turn a blind eye.”

“Exactly.”

It was obvious why Ramirez wanted someone to know about the possible scheme. But why that someone happened to be you and your team, you honestly didn’t know. By logic, if you had been playing your father all this time, wasn’t it reasonable to assume you had or continue to play Ramirez?

“And you’re telling us for what? To save your ass?”

Ramirez countered with a question of his own, “Why are you here? After what Seda did to you, I can’t believe it.”

“Stop, just stop.” You were about done with all of this.

“You’re here to arrest us, right? I’m assuming I’m included.”

You raised your head, trying desperately to depict true regret in the stare you gave him. “I’m sorry.”

He sadly shook his head, “Don’t apologize. I know why you’re doing it.” He turned to Steve. “I’m just asking for a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“Protect my daughter.”

Your jaw dropped lightly as you heard his selfless favor. “Your daughter?”

“Her name is on the deed. I think Ernesto wants my land.”

“And once you’re taken out, she’s the only thing standing in his way.”

“Either he marries her-” he took a long pause to breath in deep. “Or he kills her.”

“Take her off of it?” you stated with confidence since it was more of a suggestion than a question. 

A deep frown etched into his face. “She’s somewhere in Asia right now. I need her signature. And all the forgers haven’t called me back.” He sighed and reached down to grip his bloody shin again. “She won’t make it back in time for the legal route.”

Steve nodded in understanding. He surprised you by setting the shield down on the couch. “Then we won’t let anything happen.”

“Promise me.”

You started to express remorse about the situation but were immediately cut off. “We aren’t in the business of making pro-”

“We promise.” 

You turned your head sharply, eyes round and mouth dropped. It was all you could muster up to show Steve your shock. He ignored your judgement, even if he did just break one of the top ten rules on the ‘what not to do as a superhero!’ list. 

Finally, uniformed officers scrambled into the room with their weapons drawn. Torres led them, hair all disheveled and cheeks pink.  “I’m so sorry. The connection was hacked and the cameras were delayed-”

You moved to stand near him, “It’s okay. Hey, we’re okay.”

Torres kept eye contact with you for only a second more, not really accepting that his tardiness should be casually swept under the rug like that. He immediately signaled for his officers to arrest Ramirez. “Get on your knees.”

Ramirez raised his hands and tried to stand. “With all due respect, your Captain might’ve broken my leg. I can’t kneel again or else I might cry.”

You tugged at Torres’s jacket and whispered. “Joaquin, just take him in for questioning. But you gotta release him-”

His eyes rounded. “What? We finally got him!”

“You have to release him. He has to be at the wedding.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered after a long pause and internal struggle. 

Just like that, Torres and his officers hoisted Ramirez up and dragged him from the room. For him to risk coming here, with no backup (according to security cameras and his word) and trusting his gut that you weren’t dirty - he must have been telling some truth. Steve followed Torres out, leaving you and Scott to report back to Sam and Bucky. 

Steve had only made it down the hallway when Ramirez stumbled into the wall. “Stop here, please.”

Steve was immediately defensive. “I’m not going to apologize for protecting my team.”

Ramirez didn’t seem to mind that he would be having trouble walking at the wedding. Granted he didn’t play a major role in the actual wedding, but he still needed to be present during the shipment transport. He inwardly thanked the fact the rehearsal dinner was only for close family. “Captain. Joaquin, is it? I know you heard everything I said. Mexico is your homeland. Your people.”

Torres allowed Ramirez to lean on the wall without his help. “I know my roots.”

“I wasn’t lying about the refugee camp. And I know you’ve done a lot in that area of work.”

“How do you-” Torres stammered, eyes flashing to Steve with worry. 

“Mijo, I have connections all over the world. And because I’m not an evil son of a bitch, I tend to keep them.”

Torres looked from Steve to Ramirez debating on whether to entertain this conversation any longer. But if training taught him anything, it was that if the suspect is talking, keep him talking. He motioned for his officers to leave them. 

“What are you getting at?”

“Ernesto knows about the camp. He knows the size of land. He knows my connections. He will kill me for it.” 

Steve mumbled, “Ernesto doesn’t seem like he’s much into the business of helping the less fortunate.”

Ramirez takes a grand leap here, Steve thinks, because the next words out of his mouth completely blindside him. It seemed like even saying them also left a bad taste in the criminal’s mouth. “You have to swear not to tell Y/N.”

Stepping forward and looking down at the injured man, Steve had to restrain himself from yelling his response. “Excuse me?”

“We can’t let her know right now.”

Torres held the same expression as Steve.

“You expect me to keep a secret from my partner? About her own father?”

“For the sake of your mission - yes, I know you’re planning on intercepting the shipment during the wedding - you cannot tell her until the day of the wedding.”

Steve hates that his reasoning is valid.

“Can’t tell her what?”

“The shipment isn’t a ‘what’. It’s ‘who’.”

“A hostage?” Torres almost yells because this changes the landscape, the game, the whole entire mission. 

“Multiple.”

“No, he’s not - he can’t be,” Torres is stuttering now, phone in his hand and about a dozen numbers he needs to call. 

Still, Ramirez seems like he’s telling the truth. Or at least, that’s what his body language tells Steve. “I would not lie about this.” 

Ramirez takes a deep breath before hanging his head in what looks like shame. “Ernesto is planning to kill me, marry or kill my daughter, and use the land to traffic humans.”

It immediately clicks with Steve. The reason why Ramirez was being edged out, the reason why your father wouldn’t tell you where the shipment was currently located, the reason business was going to boom in Europe. 

Ramirez continued, “Drugs are big business, Captain. But the sale of human lives…”

“The shipment - where is it?” Steve asked. 

“He wouldn’t tell me or White. That’s why we have to wait until the wedding. We can’t risk-”

Torres ended a phone call Steve hadn’t even known the kid had been on. He hooked Ramirez’s arm around his shoulders. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

Ramirez accepted the help, limping a few steps down the hallway before turning back to Steve. “Trust me when I say I know your partner, Captain. She can’t know right now. She’d kill him.”

But wasn’t that what you all wanted?

Flustered and quite overwhelmed with everything that had happened this morning and afternoon, Steve took a few minutes in the quiet hallway. 

There wasn’t much for him to do. Except set up security - because if there was one thing Steve was definitely going to do, it was see this whole mission through. 

The rest of the team back home would be briefed in the next few hours. And since Torres would be giving the briefing, everyone would know that this was a major secret kept from you. It would eat away at everyone, especially Steve. 

Digging into his pockets for his burner phone, he dialed the one number he thought you would be satisfied by.

“Maribel, hey. It’s Steve Rogers. I need a favor.”

     It wasn’t hard for Steve to conceal secrets. He was trained in code, intercepted Nazi messages during the war, and negotiated the safe return of hostages more times than he could count. 

Not telling you this would perhaps bite him in the ass in the long run, and there would most certainly be a dreaded argument in his future. But when he truly thought about it and what it could possibly mean if you seriously went out of your way to end this mission quicker than it was planned - the best possible choice was to keep this secret. 

Either he could tell you right now and have you do with it what you will, or he could tell you on the day of the wedding when all bets are off and the mission could be a success. 

That’s all the both of you have ever wanted, this he knows for sure. Getting rid of these people, getting rid of your father with help from the Avengers and their close connections, was worth more than a petty argument with the top crime boss who would never change his ways. It was best to stick it out, and tell you when the time was right. 

Because he will tell you. He promises himself that. 

After discussing the day and the rest of the plan over video chat, it was concluded that Sam and Bucky would be flying out a day earlier than planned. Having Ramirez simply waltz into the hotel when someone was having their regular smoke break was much too insane to ignore, and the more backup you guys had tomorrow and the next, the better. 

Scott took his leave after triple-checking if you were alright. He even offered to have a couple drinks with you down at the bar. You declined, excuse being that you would drink tomorrow at the dinner. 

Shrugging off your jacket and shirt was more painful than you hoped. It felt like someone had punched you with all their strength smack-dab in the middle of your fucking spine. Which, come to think of it, kind of happened? The pressure Seda applied was meant to subdue in the most awkward and painful of ways. He was trained to do so. Still, removing your bra should have been a simple task and instead it hurt like a bitch. 

The warm water from the shower relaxed the strained muscles as best as it could, and you only suffered minimally while applying your shampoo and conditioner. It was the hair drying and brushing of the hair that would prove difficult. 

Giving up halfway, you opened the bathroom door and peeked through, hoping Steve decided to stay in for the night. He was simply lounging on his bed, back pressed against the headboard as he watched Finding Nemo on Disney Junior. He was already dressed for bed.

“Steve?”

He glanced at you, worry etched on his face as he took in your embarrassed expression. “What is it?”

You opened the door fully, pajamas already on and a wet towel in your hand. You blushed madly. “Could you help me dry my hair? It hurts when I raise my arms.”

Steve was out of bed the second he heard the word ‘help’. “How bad is it? We can always fly in Dr. Cho to get you checked out-”

You giggled, passing him the hotel hair dryer. “I’ll just pop some advil every few hours and annoy you for a massage before tomorrow’s dinner. That sound good?”

He didn’t want to agree. If you were actually in severe pain, it wasn’t helpful to you or the mission. He cursed himself for not relieving you of Seda’s elbow sooner. 

“If you say so.”

You turned back to the mirror and gripped the counter, fingers tapping away as Steve grabbed the essentials. He used one of the hand towels to squeeze the excess water from your tips and separated your hair into sections. He blow dried your hair for a couple of minutes before deciding to alternate with the brush. 

The brush was shaped like a cylinder, the bristles much softer than that of other brushes he’d seen. 

“Just use it like any other brush. But once you get close to the tips, start twisting it. It’ll make my hair wavy.”

Steve nodded, doing exactly as you instructed. It was fifteen minutes of pure laughs and jokes as Steve styled your hair like some seventies movie star. He had always enjoyed the culture from that time and even if the show wasn’t actually set in the seventies, it was one of his guilty pleasures to watch That 70’s Show with Wanda. 

     Once finished, the two of you brushed your teeth and finished the rest of the movie in comfortable silence. He didn’t want to become distracted by something new so he shut off the television and turned to you, all snuggled up and scrolling through your phone. 

It was now or never. 

His voice was tinier than he hoped it would be, “Do you regret what we did?”

You were lying on your side facing Steve, phone plugged into the charger. You looked up, voice as equally tiny. “Oh, we’re talking about it now?”

Steve smiled, “You haven’t exactly brought it up either.”

“Well,” your chuckle came out as a huff. You put your phone back onto the bedside table.  “No, I don’t regret it.”

“You don’t?”

“Did you want me to?” you sounded surprised, but Steve knew you well enough to know you were only teasing. 

“No, I just-”

“Do you?”

“You gotta stop interrupting me,” Steve sighed. You raised your eyebrows. “I don’t regret it.”

You bit your lip and sat up straighter so your back was also leaning against the headboard. “So we both don’t regret it.”

“God, you annoy the hell out of me, you know that?” Steve admitted, kicking off his sheets and presenting what looked to be both a sad and honest grin. 

You laughed, kicking the sheets off as well and dangling your legs over the side. “Do I! You only remind me every damn day!”

Steve softened his voice once more, grin still present. “And yet, you never take a hint.”

You craved this playfulness and if you could continue like this for the rest of the night, for the rest of your lives, you would. But you remembered that there was a real conversation to be had. About the last seven years, the last two years, the last couple of days. Whether that conversation remained civil or evolved into an argument, it had to happen. 

“I guess we both act like everything is past us when it clearly isn’t. What should we do?”

Steve hesitated, “Do you want to fight?”

You shrugged, “I think we need to. I don’t plan on not speaking to you for months after if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

He huffed an involuntary laugh, body leaning forward slightly, “I hope not.”

You shared small smiles from your sides of the room, the air growing thicker but not uncomfortable enough to leave the room altogether. 

Steve decided to speak first. “I was stupid. And I made the wrong fucking choice. I was the biggest goddamn idiot on the planet to do that to a friend.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip, “Yeah. All of that’s true. But you still haven’t told me why you did it. You just gave me a half-assed apology because Sam forced you to, and you wonder why we never had our nightly girl talks again.”

“When I apologized, I hardly meant it.”

You nodded sarcastically, “Good start, Steve.”

“No, I-” he laughed, getting up to sit beside you. “I realized that I was truly, actually sorry… when you gave me your blood.”

You cringed, looking away from him and at the random monitors. “It sounds horribly cryptic when you say it like that.”

He smiled big, “It wasn’t even a mission. And if I recall correctly, you told me you would only help me again if we were on a mission.”

“Oh.”

He scooted closer to take your hand in his. “No, not ‘oh’. I was in and out of it but I can clearly make out when I’m getting a blood transfusion.”

“You weren’t gonna die-” you rolled your eyes, absentmindedly drawing circles on Steve’s knuckles. 

“Recovery would have been a hell of a lot harder.”

“I wasn’t the only volunteer-”

“You were the first.”

“So you’re interrupting me, now?”

Steve's smile never faltered. He leaned in and squinted playfully. “How does it feel?”

Pursing your lips, you surrendered. “Go on.”

“You won’t believe me when I say that I truly don’t know why I quit on you. I was just tired.”

“Tired of me?”

“God, no,” he responded quickly. “Tired of myself.”

“Steve…”

He stood up again. Running a hand through his hair, he took tiny steps back and forth. “We brought everyone back and they didn’t know they had been gone for years. I had to tell -” 

He swallowed hard, holding back tears. “I had to tell everyone Nat sacrificed her own soul for theirs.”

“Steve, we could have done it together. I was by your side,” you stood up as well, reaching out to grip his forearm. 

“And then Nick told me about your father. And how he was just picking up where he left off. Like Nat’s sacrifice meant nothing. Like it still means nothing.”

You sighed, a disappointed pout on your face. “So you took it out on me?”

His shoulders fell in defeat as he gently slapped his arms down over his hips. “I have no other excuse.” 

He didn’t try to sugarcoat it. It was the truth. No matter who asked the question, no matter how much he thought about it, the answer truly was that Steve had no excuse. You were the one thing connected to the evil of the past that he so desperately wanted to leave behind. “And then the world was just… we didn’t fix it.”

“How can you say that?”

He explained further, “People moved on. Five years was a long time and we just mucked it all up again.”

“Do you feel like Nat’s sacrifice wasn’t worth it?”

“She died for us. And the world was so chaotic the first few weeks. There were no breaks, there was nothing we could do but… watch.”

You could see where he was coming from. “Pepper has donated so much money. Created foundations. Bruce is locked in his lab all day trying to help slow down the sudden CO2 emissions. Bucky joined the Avengers for a fresh start. And Wanda-”

Steve pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Oh, god, Wanda.”

“Steve,” you stepped in front of him and tried pulling his hands away. He let you guide his arms back to his sides. “You can’t just blame yourself for something we all did.”

A tiny puff of air left his lips before he forced a smile. “Can’t I?”

“You tell this to your therapist, right?” you teased, happy to see him break slightly as he rolled his eyes. “You blame yourself, but I’m saying you don’t have to.”

He traced his index finger down from your shoulder to your wrist. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

And you believed him. The world could explode and erase you from existence and you would still believe him. 

“I feel like saying ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it.”

“I’ll work with whatever you can give me.”

And God, Steve thinks about how beautiful you look in the muted light of his bedside lamp, hair still a little frizzy from the hair dryer and the most radiant smile. So… soft. Again, the only sound besides your easy breathing and slight whistle was that lamp, the most annoying, fuzzy sound. Everything just felt so hazy, so tranquil, so… and yes, he’ll use the word again: soft. He could stay in that moment forever, where you were his and he was yours. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

Steve shakes his head, wonder drowning out all other senses as he focuses on you. He steps closer, enveloping you in a tight hug, mindful of your bruised back. Before he could overthink this moment, to ruin it with the side of himself he was trying to lose, he leaned in to capture your lips in a most chaste kiss. 

It had been a long time since Steve had kissed anyone. The kiss you shared yesterday was the catalyst, but this was a promise. His last kiss was before the snap while he was on the run and trying to avoid responsibility. But it wasn’t like someone before wanted to bask in the warmth of Steve Rogers - no - there was actual emotion to this kiss. 

An ache swelled in the middle of your chest, hammering surely and true. Your mouth falls open the same time Steve inches his hand up your neck, allowing for the kiss to deepen and last. 

His heart was breaking and repairing itself all at once. Breaking for the time he had lost, repairing for the time he had gained. He needed you, wanted you, lost himself in your touch. That same ache in your chest grew in his, pulsating and heavy. His fingers crept into your hair, curling themselves in the loose strands.

He swears you were born for this - to be willing and wanting and breathtakingly good at kissing. He’s so desperate to feel more of you, to taste more than he thinks he deserves, and he almost whines when your fingers also start to tangle in the hair near his neck. 

“Steve, are you sure we should be doing this?” Your voice prompted him to kiss deeper, apply more pressure in the fear that you would change your mind - change your mind about him. 

Almost immediately, red flags propped up and he had to force himself away. He didn’t know your dating history, he didn’t know if you ever emotionally recovered from your assault, he didn’t know. He cursed inwardly for last night, keeping a respectable distance as he checked. 

“I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. I promise you that.”

His voice was thick like honey, smooth and true in the honest words he was saying. 

You had been hesitant for a long while after what had happened to you. You couldn’t stand the simple touch of anyone besides Natasha. But she helped you through it, she shared her own experiences from the early Red Room days, and she had never officially recognized your recovery - she didn’t have to as long as you knew in your mind and body that you had. 

‘The dreadful experience will be a part of you, but it will not ever control you.’ Her words were like prayer. 

But Steve’s touch was natural and wanted. You never shied away from him, not ten years ago and certainly not now. He would never hurt you, you knew this, and he was double-checking to confirm it. 

“I only want you.”

His face resembled a literal question mark, like he didn’t quite accept your admission. Like it was hard to believe you wanted to be with him after everything he put you through. “Do you want me?”  

“Yes. Honest to God, I’m just going with what feels right.”

“That’s just a nicer way of saying you’re thinking with your dick.”

Steve couldn’t contain the burst of laughter that left his lips and hit yours. He pulled back and smiled, eyes crinkling at the sides. “I promise you it’s not that.”

You cupped his face and drew tiny circles on his flushed cheeks. “Hm, so you don’t know what you’re doin’? Thought you always had a plan.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “And apparently I’m always brave.”

“And righteous.”

“Downright patriotic.”

You grinned up at him, your toes sore from how long you had been bending them to hoist you up. “So, your plan?”

Steve kissed you once, twice, three times. “I don’t have one.”

“Pretty brave of you to admit that.”

Steve’s smile dropped slightly to showcase a more serious emotion. Still, his eyes held the most genuine quality. “I just want to be yours.”

You pressed up against him, tiptoes straining and fists clutching his shirt. The kiss was desperate now, as were the both of you. You gasped in between each long peck. “All this time? Why didn’t we say something?”

Embracing you once more, Steve led the two of you to the foot of his bed and fell forward. He landed on top of you, weight nowhere near actually crushing you. His legs were slightly parted, his knees touching the lateral sides of yours. Accepting that the both of you had played a role and delayed this portion of your relationship - Steve was a coward, he knew this, but hearing you say that you also realized your mistakes made him feel weirdly glad. Like he wasn’t alone in this.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” Steve breathed in your neck, kissing the depths of your collarbones and the points of your shoulders. 

“Never,” you whispered, gasping a moment later as he sucked particularly hard. You reached below and tugged the end of his shirt upward. He took it off quickly and before resuming his conquest on your neck, he tugged yours off as well. 

It functioned like this for another ten minutes, strong kisses and gasps and whines, before you were both down to your underwear and simply petting each other higher up on the bed. 

Steve pulled away abruptly, a blush spreading along his neck and down his chest as he thought about the best way to phrase his next sentence. “I didn’t really pack any condoms.”

You actually snorted, pushing away loose strands of your hair as you looked up from beneath him. “Woah, how far did you think you were going to get here, Rogers?”

He was used to the sarcasm, but oh my god did it do something feral to him while in bed with you.  He suddenly flipped you over, holding your hips above his as you settled yourself. It was like a case of whiplash, and before you knew it, you were placed on top of him to grind down and do all the work yourself. 

“Seriously?” His voice was light but raspy, both a sweet question and a warning. 

You grind your hips down on him, feeling the way his hard cock rubbed against your clothed core. Last night was different - you could feel the heat of him, the initial size not lost on you whatsoever. But here you were actually seeing the thick outline in all its glory, a small wet patch forming on his briefs near his twitching tip. “Years of sleeping in my bed only to want to fuck me now?”

He rolled his hips up, his palms beginning a slow and steady pace smoothing alongside your stomach. You relaxed right away, even though it felt like your insides were going to turn upside down, and you rested your hands over his to help guide him. 

“You gonna let me?”

 And fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest fucking thing in the whole world. His palms continued their tracks, reaching up to cup your breasts through your sports bra.  You got the message, giggling as you lifted your arms up. He lifted it up and over your head, throwing it to the other side of the room. Steve immediately attacked, lifting himself and readjusting your hips as well. He sucked your left nipple like a goddamn professional, swirling his tongue around the tight nub and using his teeth only briefly, delighted in the sharp hitch in your breath as he did so. He moved on to the other one, repeating the same process and grinding your hips down on him to match. He trailed quick pecks along your chest and up your neck, his hand finding its way back to your hair. Just below your occipital, so very sensitive, and he tugged your head back at an awkward angle. He kissed his way up, stretching your neck out, and you adjusted to the burn as quickly as the pleasure from it came. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, mind scrambled but still coherent enough to remember you were on birth control and clean. “I have the shot.”

This had Steve reeling, balance now off as he flipped you once more, hips coming down to meet yours as you thrust upward looking for some relief. The thought of spilling into you with no barrier had to be one of the kinks he didn’t know he had. 

“Safe word?”

You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder playfully, “Really, Steve?”

“Safe. Word.”

It wasn’t like you were about to tie each other down for your first time together, but you knew what was flying through his mind. He needed to know you felt safe during whatever the two of you did tonight, make sure you felt calm and at ease and relaxed. Steve would rather die than hurt you physically. 

“Widow.” You paused, smirking up at him as he accepted your decree. “Great, now I’m thinking about Natasha and that time she entered the compound in just that little, red bikini-”

Steve thumbed your bottom lip, then carefully shoved it into your mouth and placed it over your lax tongue to get you to stop talking. Your jaw instantly relaxed and you waited a few moments before locking eyes and enclosing his thumb in your lips. You sucked and swirled your tongue around it, pushing slightly so it rested on your puckered lips. Steve rolled his hips down again, his heat meeting yours in a mash of uncoordinated thrusts. You spread your legs to allow him more room. He had to remove his thumb in fear he would come right then and there.

He inched down lower, hands reaching down to cup your ass and lift you up slightly. He kissed all along your thighs, up to your hip bones, expertly avoiding the one area he knew you wanted him. His beard scratched and poked on your delicate skin, tickling you as he moved closer to your center. This would most certainly hurt in the morning, but nothing a little lotion and vaseline couldn’t fix. You mewled embarrassingly loud, a long drawn out sound that caused Steve to involuntarily rut against the mattress. It had been so long since he had been with someone. But this someone was you. He honestly didn’t know if he could hold out for as long as he wanted. He slowly peeled off your underwear. 

“Where do you want me?”

You lifted your head from the pillow to look down at him, eyebrows furrowed and cheeks incredibly red. “Games, Rogers?”

Steve growled and hoisted your open legs on his shoulders, pulling you closer so that you could feel his stuttering breath. “I’m the one playing?”

His question didn’t quite land considering his sudden manhandling had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and momentarily blinding you. After such a harsh day, the roughness of this particular situation shouldn’t have been so well received by your body. But it was consensual, it was with someone you trusted, and you were also in control. Just knowing that made you crave it. 

“If you don’t get your mouth on me-” you started, trying desperately to move your hips closer to his mouth. And god, did he want to dip lower and suck your glistening heat under his waiting mouth. You were positively dripping, all shiny and welcoming. He hadn’t ordered dessert with dinner, and hey, this would do nicely. 

But your quick quips ignited the Steve that would pick you last during training line-ups. He would leave you for the end, without a team, foot tapping rapidly on the floor as you glared at him with an amused smile. Then he would act like you were the last choice he just had to pick, which you were, and you’d lose the first match on purpose to ruin his scoreboard. It always worked like this, he knew, but did he ever pick you first the next time? No, your bothered attitude excited him too much.

Now, with an impatient attitude bolstering underneath his body, he found himself raising his hand a few inches up in the air. “Stop sassin’!”

The slap echoed after it connected against your bottom, the angle at which it impacted clumsy and inelegant. He smacked the side, surprised by the sharp scream you exhaled. As quickly as he acted, he pulled back. “Oh my god, I should have asked first. I’m so sorry.”

You opened your eyes, the soft light illuminating the room still too bright. You shook away the white spots from your vision. You seriously didn’t know if that was an orgasm or simply a tidal wave of intense pleasure. Still, you were sort of out of it as Steve’s voice tried to draw you back in. 

You looked down at him, “Do that again.”

Steve blinked quickly, unknowing if he truly registered your words correctly. “Are you sure?”

“I didn’t think I’d enjoy that. But oh my god, do that again.”

Steve hesitated and to ease into it better, he decided to not keep you waiting any longer and attached his eager lips to your gleaming ones down below. You fluttered your eyes shut, surprised by how quickly he found your sweetest spot, and you rutted against him harder as the minutes flew by. He swirled his tongue in tight O’s and figure eights, teeth barely scratching but when they did, sent you flying upwards. But he just gripped onto your thighs and readjusted you on his shoulders, fingers digging in almost painfully. His beard burned the inside of your thighs, rubbing deliciously and uncomfortably. He shifted his soft and wriggling tongue to that special spot on the inside of your left lip, his fierce grip not allowing you to shift away as he ate. The hands that were clutching the bedsheets now flew onto his scalp, gripping his hair tightly and you pushed him in deeper. Steve groaned from the pleasant sting, cock straining in his briefs as he rutted into the air. 

The pressure was too much and you wanted him off of you and on you at the same time. Moaning so loud it was deafening, you didn’t notice he lost his grip on one of your legs to connect his palm back to the side of your ass. 

“God!” you yelled blissfully, one hand leaving his head to slam back into the headboard. He repeated the action, his own moans vibrating on you and sending you to a different plane of existence. Each slap grew in strength and he alternated sides, his mouth never leaving your sweet center.

He was sweating now, dying to touch himself and get you off at the same time. He circled his hips mid-air, the friction against his briefs not enough and all too much. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe you like that,” he whined. 

You chuckled through desperate moans, “Are you judging me right now?”

“I’m judging how fucking wrecked it makes me,” he admitted, mouth now working overtime and ready to lead you off the edge. He worked faster, tongue now assaulting your clit eagerly. Steve can feel both his pulse and your pulse gaining momentum, thrumming away inside his skull and vibrating deliciously as he brought you closer. He suspects you’ve got a few good seconds before you’re coming on his mouth. 

“Steve… Steve!” you begged, hips bucking awkwardly against him. He wrapped both arms around your thighs again and headed for the finish line, humming against you and basking in the glory of your end. You broke around him, the scream you let out causing the heat in his stomach to tighten and spread to his own thighs. You wiggled fiercely, attempting to get away from him as he continued to lick you. He made sure to leave some of your release behind, even if his lips and chin told another story. 

He set your legs back down on the bed with him still in the middle. He could still see how shiny you were in between. Selfishly, Steve maneuvered to get himself out of his briefs and settle back in the middle. There, he took pleasure in simply viewing himself, strained and practically purple with desire, at level with your wet mound. 

“You’ve been practicing, huh?” He snapped from his dirty thoughts and looked back at your blissed out face. You also had a soft luster on your skin.

Steve chuckled, hands gripping the sides of your hips to massage them. “Not recently. But the USO girls were just as tuned up as I was at the time.”

You grinned wide, “Now that’s something I didn’t know about you. You fuck ‘em?”

Steve reached down to grip the base of his cock, the pressure building and he seriously didn’t want to blow his load before you both took the next step. He willed himself to calm down before he responded. “Yeah, but please don’t go tellin’ everyone.”

“Who knew you were such a slut?” you teased, voice dripping with such intensity that Steve shut his eyes to drown in it. You wrapped your leg around his waist and tipped him over, coming back to rest your hips atop his. Hands sprawled along the expanse of his chest and unclothed heat now rubbing along his bare cock. Steve tipped his head back, a deep groan rising from the middle of his chest as your drenched lips parted to swallow the thickness of his cock. You rocked back and forth, your sensitive clit nudging his tip every so often. You had already come once, and you reveled in the simple fact that this must be torture for Steve. “Tell me, Steve. How do you want me?”

Steve short-circuited. 

“Doll, I want you in every imaginable way,” he whined, bucking his hips. He grinned when his short movement caused you to whimper. “I want you on top of me, doing nothing, as I fuck up into you.”

You let out a ragged gasp, hips moving faster. You were practically dripping along his cock. Steve continued, “I want you underneath me as I fold you in half and your ankles are dangling in the air. I want you on your stomach as I use your hips how I want.”

Your eyes were wide, the blush on your cheeks extending all the way down to your naked chest. This was so surreal. Just last week you switched his special sugar for salt and watched him literally sob and almost throw up as he sipped his morning tea. 

“But I also want you to hold me down and fuck me however you see fit. I want you to steal my control, I don’t want it. I just need you.”

His voice was wrecked, choked whimpers caught in between his syllables and eyelids fluttering slowly. You shot down to kiss him hard, hands tangling in his hair and hips grinding long and slow. You were rewarded with a sticky bead of pre-come from his sensitive slit. You were already milking him and he hadn’t even entered you yet. 

“Y/N, are you sure?”

You detached your lips, forehead now resting on his and your breaths intermingled. “I’m sure.”

He didn’t know what willed him to flip you over so fast, whether it was the serum or his desperate need to sink into your tight warmth, but he succeeded. His gaze was intense, like he was trying to find any hesitation he so didn’t want to find. But there was none. Your eyes were bright and happy, and he had only seen this look a few times. He felt incredibly lucky to experience it now. 

“I’m sorry I lost you,” he spoke without thinking. Because he truly was sorry, he was so fucking sorry. But to have you here, so vulnerable and allowing him to see you so defenseless, he felt like he didn’t deserve it without telling you once again that he was sorry. 

You gave him a toothy smile, cheeks rising and causing the skin by your eyes to crinkle. You guided his head down to plant his lips on yours again. It was innocent enough for the circumstances, just a gentle press with slow movements. 

You pushed him back to meet his eyes. “I probably should have held on tighter.”

He knows the color of your eyes, but never in this lighting. He knows the sweat of your body, but not when it mixes with his. He knows your talkative mouth, but never pink and swollen in a pleasant pout. He knows your voice, but never when it calls out his name while you writhe underneath him. He knows you now, all of you, open and vulnerable for him.

Steve presses one more deep kiss on your lips before positioning himself better in between your legs. He lifts you up slightly, bending your knees and spreading your legs so your feet are planted on the mattress. Then he slowly guides himself into your tight heat. 

It’s incredibly overwhelming for both parties. He hadn’t exactly prepared you with his fingers and his size is a little much. He was thicker than anything you were used to, and the sting left you wanting him to move already and pause to settle for maybe an hour. It’s like he read your mind because he moved even slower as he pushed deeper, head dropping to the curve of your neck, gasping against your skin. You tried to encourage him, rolling your hips and hooking one leg around him. The sting still overpowered any sense of pleasure, so you rolled your hips against his to try and better adjust for yourself. 

He grasped onto the side of your hip tightly, “Doll, if you don’t stop doing that I’m not gonna last.” 

You blushed, slightly embarrassed, “I was just trying to get comfortable quicker.”

Steve groaned and planted a few sweet kisses to your heated neck. “Do you want to stop? I can work you out one more time before we do this?”

You turned your head slightly to kiss across his cheek. “I want you now. I just need to adjust first.”

Steve nodded quickly, pressing in more and pausing to let you roll your hips. He bit his lip harshly, a cracked gasp escaping every so often as you worked yourself on him. Once he was fully seated inside of you, he closed his eyes and just held you. 

He tried not to think of anything else other than you. How you felt, how you smelled, how you sounded. Who you were, who you became, who you will be. He was swallowed in you and he didn’t ever want to leave that abyss. 

A rush of heat settled inside your stomach, maddening and burning with such intensity it was practically speaking to you. “Steve, you can move. I’m ready, please move.”

He’s as deep as he can go and you’re both breathing hard and he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. As far as declarations of love go, this was perhaps the most graceless, but he knew it was sincere and real. Steve felt a moment of unrelenting panic, like he had just accidentally verbally admitted it. But he hadn’t, and selfishly enough, he would keep it to himself for as long as he could until he himself could come to terms with it. 

There are definitely going to be marks on your skin once you’re done here, but you couldn’t care less - not when Steve just let go of his worries and started to thrust in and out of you, deep and slow. He meets you with a long kiss, hips picking up their pace as you match his rhythm. His hands grip your hips tighter, every thrust working deep into you and prying desperate moans for him to savor. 

The drag as he pulls out leaves you lightheaded. And as he pushes back in, it leaves you with a burst of satisfaction at the base of your spine. You can’t even form words as you’re reduced to a stuttering series of ‘uh-uh-uhs’, fully in the moment and fucked stupid. All you could do is push your hips forward and up to meet him halfway, match your moans to his, clench around him to draw out that choked sob from his throat that he tries and fails to contain. You tried your best to ignore the slight pain in the middle of your back, and the sting and stretch down below made sure of it. 

He was stammering around every syllable of your name. Breathy moans followed. 

“Steve, faster, please baby.” Steve stuttered in his movements, eyes squeezed shut as he registered your request. He followed through, however, lifting your hip in one hand and turning you at an angle that made him hit deeper and in a special spot you didn’t know you had. No one had reached it, not even when you played with yourself, and your squeal of delight alerted Steve of his accomplishment. Each pleasurable noise encouraged Steve to maintain whatever rhythm he had going. So he hit it over and over again, working at it hungrily, ignoring his shaking arms and praying the serum could be useful for more than just bullets and super speed. 

“You feel so fucking perfect. So fucking great,” he panted, watching your face as it contorted into a silent scream. You were coming again, hands braced on his biceps as your voice failed to warn him. You clenched and unclenched around him, head thrown far back into the pillow as your chest ripped with the sound it was harbouring. 

You had never come from penetration alone and you bet the fact it was Steve bringing you to climax was definitely a main factor, but it was so damn intense that your legs gave out and simply flopped onto the mattress. Steve stopped hammering into you for a minute, breathing heavily as he allowed you a cooldown. 

“I didn’t feel that coming, I’m sorry,” you laughed, arm coming up to cover your eyes. 

Steve chuckled and removed your arm, “You good?”

You were still seeing white spots and your head was slightly cloudy, but the knowledge that Steve hadn’t yet come fueled you. And the possibility of him coming inside you kickstarted another wave of desire in each of your vertebrae. 

“Yeah, I just have one favor,” you stated honestly, wiggling uncomfortably. “Could you flip me over? In this position, you’re really pushing down on my bruise.”

He moaned shamefully from the greedy thought of having you on your stomach. The angel on one shoulder chastised him, telling him to flip you over for the sake of your comfort. But that little devil, greedy and seeking his finish, told him to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress. He compromised. 

He flipped you over and helped you place a pillow just below your hips. He watched as you threw your hair to one side and bent your arms at the elbows. Hands now placed below your head and hips wiggling in front of him, Steve parted your legs and sunk into you again. 

“Yes, fuck, yes…” you mewled, hips raising ever so slightly to drag him in deeper. Steve watched the area where you were connected, wonder clouding his mind as he dipped deeper, deeper, until his hips connected with your bottom. He wasn’t used to this position and he never really thought that he would enjoy it so much. It was like he reached new depths, your pleasure could only come from the way he rolled his hips - yeah, he needed to put you in every position his mind could fathom. 

His jaw went slack as he pulled out and pushed back in, hair sticking to his own forehead and mouth feeling dry and watery at the same time. 

He fucked you in earnest, hoping he could draw out one more orgasm from you. You were putty beneath him, hair now mangled and sticking with the sweat on your neck and back. You were a repetition of ‘yes, yes, yes’ and ‘fuck please, fuck, please!’, sloppy in all senses. He didn’t slow down because one: he was chasing his finish, and two: you didn’t tell him to. 

You were a whimpering mess, a tiny pool of drool forming beneath your mouth and on the sheets. It wasn’t like you didn’t try to swallow it - you physically couldn’t. 

Steve was growing erratic now as his end neared. He fell over you, none of his weight actually on you as he wrapped one arm under your stomach and the other hand sneaking its way to your clit. His cheek was planted on your back and in that moment, he remembered your growing bruise. So he lifted his face back up and planted several wet kisses over, inbetween, and alongside your shoulder blades. The soft gesture had you tearing up from both adoration and heat. You fisted the sheets underneath you and met Steve’s ruts as best as you could. 

He rubbed quick circles over your clit, relishing in the feeling of your velvet walls pulsating around him. “Come for me, doll.”

You didn’t know if he could hear himself begging, but he repeated that sentence several more times before you spoke. It was like you chose for him. “Come inside me, Steve. Please, please, please!”

That strung-out whine of yours did it. Steve pressed his mouth against your skin with a breathless groan as he spilled into you in long spurts. Simply feeling him coat your walls with what sounded like a painful cry had you coming for the third time tonight. You didn’t have enough energy to vocalize it so just pushed your head into the pillow and prayed you could still walk tomorrow. 

Steve’s heartbeat is in his ears as he comes down from his high. He enjoys it for a few more seconds before finally snapping back to reality, lifting himself from you and slowly pulling out. He groaned deeply as he watched his spent drip from you and onto the pillow hoisting you up. He wrapped a hand around himself to milk whatever else he had as he watched. 

You two lay beside each other for several minutes, chests heaving and blood settling to its normal speed again. 

You glanced to your left and giggled as you witnessed Steve’s blissed out state, tip of his nose still pink, eyelashes creating such a lovely shadow on his cheeks, cock giving a few spent stutters as the rush of blood found another body part to supply. 

He turned to you as well, a lazy smile greeting you. “We’re good at that.”

This time you laughed loudly, throwing yourself over his chest and hugging him close. He laughed with you and kissed the top of your head as he enjoyed the feeling.

After another couple minutes, you both decided it was time to clean up. He resisted the urge to laugh when you stood up, legs wobbly and chest still trying to catch full breaths. You looked drunk, eyes glossy and hair disorderly. The look suited you, really. 

You thought the same about him. 

Steve swore he was about to crumble when you both returned from the bathroom and you headed for your own bed. It was a betrayal for only a millisecond before you commented on how you were not sleeping in soiled sheets and that he could ‘obviously’ join you in your bed tonight. You kept talking, telling him how you weren’t necessarily a cuddler but you would sacrifice one night for him. But ‘do not be alarmed when you find me on the other side of the bed in the morning!’, and the good ache in his chest swelled once again. 

     Once, in 1935, when Steve was seventeen and too weak to breathe in a lick of clean air, the pneumonia eating away at his lungs and taunting his mother, who was rotating between cold and hot rags; that 1935 sickness was one of the few times he was hopeless. Sure, he pulled through because he’s Steve Rogers. But not being able to breathe really scares a person, and so he didn’t feel hopeless - he was hopeless. His own body betrayed him and made his mother, who nursed him while Bucky worked extra shifts at the dock to help her with groceries, cry like a blubbering newborn - well, Steve was forced to put his faith in God. It’s what his mother would have wanted him to do.

And when he couldn’t reach far enough to grasp Bucky’s trembling hand, when he watched him fall into that icy ravine to his supposed death in 1944, he was hopeless. Completely obliterated from the bottom of his heart, up. 

In 2018, when he lost the ultimate battle and saw half the world disintegrate, and the itchiness spread itself far and wide to all the crevices in his crumbling soul, pouring into crack after crack after crack - there was no need to even label himself hopeless anymore. He hadn’t had hope in anything after he caused the destruction of one of his only true 21st century friendships; not since he dropped that shield at the feet of one friend while he walked away with another. There was no hopelessness - simply less. 

But now, with you in his arms and treading lightly along his second chance, his heart was bursting with the possibility of relearning the definition of hope, craving to feel human again - to feel like Steve Rogers again. Sure, he may still believe his glass is half empty instead of half full, and he was pushing the ideals of that shield far too much down the line, but Steve swore the awe in your eyes was the hope he had lost. 

He couldn’t believe you were the host of it all along. 

So he settled in his new home, in his new hope, praying God would let him have it, and closed his eyes. This Steve, who was asleep for over seventy years and was robbed of the life he was supposed to live. This Steve, who wished he could erase all the lost time filled with stupid tantrums and half-assed apologies and pretend it never happened. No lies about ‘maybe it helped you two grow!’ He had poisoned his happiness years ago and god forbid he would let himself do it again. 

This Steve, who only wanted to protect and be protected. Steve, with all his heart, his mind, and his soul, burning brilliant.

~

A/N: man i know this is long but i literally write the chapters in sections and i don’t realize until I paste them together omgggg xxMoni

Taglist: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​ 

[xans-ex]

Otherside (Pt. 2)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Different Dimension/Alternate Universe. Heavy angst, smut, and fluff throughout multiple parts.

Word Count: 4254 words

Chapters-

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

*WARNING- Strong Language, Explicit Sex(Not in this chapter), Explicit Sex Talk/References(Not in this chapter), Violence, Talks of Violence*

This is the second part to the story :) I will include a little of the first chapter in the beginning just with how the second chapter starts, so bare with me ya'll. Also fun fact, when I write I usually find a song that overall gives me the vibes for the story, and the song that helped me write these two chapters is Sextape by Deftones :) Give it a listen-

Jungkook watched as the figure turned back around and ran across the other room and into the room on top that he knew gave stairs to the building. He was stuck. Now here bleeding out only to be given to police. This is it.

You stared at the screen in disbelief. There was no way this was how your brother was going to end this chapter. No fuckin way. You looked around in confusion before your eyes fell on the pencil in its holder. You wondered if you should erase it. Then when your brother hopefully comes back, you can tell him that the police accidentally wiped it and then later on convince him to have a different ending. Yeah...That would work. You grabbed the pencil, the thick handle sitting comfortably between your fingers. You hit the eraser icon and as soon as the pencil tip hit the screen, you felt warmth.

Almost like you were sucked into a hot room. A sauna, but without the humidity. It was bright for only a second, and then it was dark. You blinked slowly, your head pulsing. "Ow..what the fuck..." You groaned as you rubbed your temples. Your hands started to lift you from the ground, and you paused as you felt the feeling of concrete and small pieces of rocks. You looked up, the wind blowing your hair as you looked around. You slowly stood up, your eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinting from the lingering headache. You froze.

The city. How? You...You were just in your brother's room. At your parent's house. In the countryside. Did you never leave your studio apartment? But why were you on the roof? Was this whole time of visiting family only a dream? You looked around in disbelief before hearing a faint moan. You whipped your head around and saw someone laying on the ground, a pool of red under them.

"Are-Are you okay?" You asked, quickly running to them. You knelt down next to them, looking at their wounds. I-It's okay! I'm a nurse. I can help you..." You trailed off as soon as you saw his face. Jungkook. "Jungkook-" You slapped your hand over your mouth as soon as you said his name. He looked up at you, his face a twisted mix of pain and confusion. "Do I know you?" He choked out. "N-No. Um...what happened?" You asked. He scoffed. "You're a nurse. You should know..." He trailed off. He was going in and out of consciousness.

"Fuck, um...I'mma call 911." You said, reaching into your pocket and grabbing your phone. You paused when you saw you had no connection. "D-Don't call the police." Jungkook came back from consciousness, his eyes wide. "I need to get an ambulance for you, you're bleeding out." You looked at him up and down, his blood slowly pooling out as he lost more and more blood. "Please...no." He whispered. You looked around, hoping to see someone but there was none. "So do you just want to die out here?" You asked.

You didn't mean to sound mean, but he was being ridiculous at this point. "No...just...you're a nurse, can you take me to your place? I'll like...pay you or whatever to help me just please don't." He was pleaded but it all sounded like a stupid idea to you. Plus, did you even live here?

"You're fucking stupid, no! You've been shot, I have no idea what arteries might've been hit in that leg-" You panicked and Jungkook closed his eyes. He was really about to die out here. With a stupid, useless nurse. Which made it even worse.

"Fine. Whatever. I'll just die." Jungkook said. You gaped at him. "No fuckin way, come on, I'll take you to the hospital myself. Is there an urgent care near?" You asked. "You don't know? You found me." He winced as you grabbed his arm, putting it around your shoulders and slowly helped him up. "I'm um...not from around here." You murmured. Jungkook looked at you, his eyes scanning your face as you chewed at your bottom lip. "How annoying..." He grumbled. You contemplated dropping him back down and letting him bleed out, but then you realized that you'd have this man's life on your mind forever, and you don't want to deal with that trauma.

You two slowly but surely went to the open stairs of the building, making your way down. "Can we use an elevator? You're heavy..." You complained. He was practically dead weight against you, and as strong as you might think you are, a dead weight body is incredible heavy. "No fuckin way. The cops will find me that way." Jungkook was very stubborn, and he was starting to piss you off. "Fine. Then put more work in. You're fat and I can't carry you down all these stairs."

Jungkook rolled his eyes but started to carefully take some of his weight off of you, not wanting to do too much because he was still weak from losing so much blood. Eventually you two make it out the building from the side door, and stumble a couple blocks to a nearby urgent care. You sighed in relief when they took Jungkook into a stretcher and started taking care of his actively bleeding wounds as he was wheeled off. You sat in one of the chairs in the waiting room, your right side stained with his blood.

"Are you his family?" A nurse asked as she stood in front of you. You looked up at her wide eyed "Uh, oh, no. No, I'm just a nurse. I happened to find him and took him here." You combed your hair back, your bangs sticking to your forehead with sweat. "Oh? Where do you work?" Your mouth opened and closed before opening once more, thinking of how to even respond. "Um...is there a bathroom I can wash up in?" You stood, the nurse stepping back with a confused expression before nodding and pointing you in the direction of the bathroom.

You hurried into the large bathroom, locking the door behind you. You sighed, looking yourself in the mirror and gripping the sink hard, your knuckles almost turning white. "What in the ever loving fuck is going on?" You hoped your reflection would reply. Tell you this is all a dream. This is a dream. Yeah, it's a dream.

You washed your face, hands, and legs, already giving up trying to clean the blood from your pajamas when it seemed to just spread and make your skin wet and sticky. "Fuckin hell..." You sighed before leaving the bathroom and sitting back at the waiting area, away from any nurses who may walk past to avoid any further questions.

-

You felt like you were there for hours. You were there for hours. The sound of people crying and alerts over the intercom helped drown out the sound of your own thoughts. Your mind could beat Usain Bolt right now with how hard it was racing. You just sat quietly, cross legged at the ankles. You should leave. You kept telling yourself that, but at the same time you wanted to stay. See if he was okay. Maybe it's because you kinda pretended as if you were waiting for your brother. Hopefully not in these circumstances but to hope he was okay, might bring you some clarity. "Excuse me..." A doctor said as she walked over to you.

You silently hoped there would be no more questions. "Are you with Jeon Jungkook?" She asked. You slowly nodded. "He's fine, in stable condition. Luckily the bullets missed all the important organs and arteries. The bullet in his leg shattered and we had to take those out so please come back if there's any complications after discharge. But luckily the bullet in his abdomen went straight through with no massive damage so that was an easy fix."

She explained everything to you and you sighed in relief. This means you can leave. Finally. "He is ready to see you now." The doctor interrupted your thoughts. "Ex-Excuse me?" You couldn't stop your constant stuttering. "He has requested to see you." You opened your mouth but no words left you, so you simply nodded and followed the doctor through a set or doors towards the patient rooms.

"He's in here. Our visiting hours are over in an hour." She said, nodding to you before walking off. You looked back at her as she left, then turned towards the sliding door of the patient room. Your hand reached out to grab the handle, your fingers wiggling slightly with nervousness. "Annoying Nurse? I know you're there." You could hear Jungkook's deep voice from the other side of the door and you huffed, sliding the door open and going inside quickly. "Annoying nurse? I have a name you know."

"Never told me it, so that's your fault." Jungkook looked at you from his bed, his hospital gown slightly open showing a wrap around his abdomen. You then glanced at the cast on his leg, and the stack of pillows keeping it elevated. "My name is (Y/N), so you can stop calling me annoying. Please." You sighed, taking a seat next to his bed. "Fine. But only because you said please." He smirked. You rolled your eyes. "I just wanted to say thank you. For saving my life." You looked Jungkook in the eye, his eyes on his hands which were picking at his individual fingers.

"No need to thank me. It's my job." You gave him a soft smile. He looked over at you, and matched his smile with yours. "You work here?" You bit your bottom lip. "No...I uh...I work somewhere else. Out of town." You said it so quietly Jungkook almost couldn't hear you. "Oh...okay."

The silence was so uncomfortable you debated just getting up and leaving now, which you thought would be perfect. "Well, visiting hours are probably already over, so I will get going now." You laughed awkwardly, standing up slowly and wiping your sweaty palms agains your pajama shorts. You turned to walk out the door but then a hand reached out and grabbed yours.

You turned back around and saw Jungkook's bandaged hand engulfing your smaller palm. "Can you come back tomorrow?" He almost had puppy dog eyes with the way he looked up at you. "I...I don't know..." You started. "I'll pay for lunch...or dinner. Or whatever you want. Please?" You thought to yourself. "Hmm...fine, but only because you said please." You teased, and Jungkook snorted. He gave you a toothy grin and you felt your cheeks heat up slightly with his hand still wrapped around yours.

"Goodnight Jungkook." You pulled your hand from his grasp and slide open the door to his room. "Goodnight...Y/N" He said as you closed his door. He looked around the hospital room and sighed. "Such an annoying nurse." He chuckled.

-

Now that you were finally out of there, you could properly freak the fuck out. First off, where the fuck are you? Second, why in the fuck is Framed character, Jeon Jungkook, in the same world as you right now? Third, what in the fucking fuck? Fuck? You raked your hands through your messy hair, the reality of everything setting in. What if you're stuck here? What about your family? Your friends? Your job???

You rubbed at your temples. Okay (Y/N), don't stress yourself out too much now. Maybe if you just...go to sleep...you'll wake up back at home. It's a dream remember? You looked around. Where the fuck will you go? You contemplated everything and just realized you should probably just stay at the hospital. You had nowhere to go.

As you made your way back to the entrance doors, three cop cars pulled up and cops started to jump out their cars. You jumped back in surprise. "Are you alright?" One of the officers said, looking at your blood stained clothes. "Y-Yeah I'm fine, I was dropping off a friend." You stammered. The officer looked you up and down curiously. "Well anyways, have you seen this man? He is currently wanted by police." The officer scrolled on his phone before showing you a photo and you almost choked on your spit. A picture of Jungkook was staring right back at you, his purple dyed hair a mess. It's a mugshot.

"Uh...no. Why? What did he do?" You looked at the officer, trying to hold your composure. Why in the hell was there a mugshot of Jungkook? Is that why he wouldn't let you call the police? "We can't say that. Just wondering if you'd seen him." The officer asked once again, as if telling you to just own up to it.

Like hell you were going to do that. You got questions and this little criminal needed to give you answers. "Nope. Never seen him. If you'll please excuse me, my boyfriend was shot and I'm here to make sure he's okay." Your mouth was moving faster than your brain. Boyfriend? Why in the fuck did you say that? The officer's right eyebrow raised curiously. "Did you shoot him?" You cocked your head in confusion before remembering your current attire.

"N-No! I saved his life. Now...please excuse me." You pushed past the officer as you made your way back into the hospital and into the elevators to go to the patient rooms. Once you arrived on the correct floor you snuck past the nurses station, knowing if they saw you they'd tell you to go home since visiting hours were over. Once you got to Jungkook's room, you quietly slide open the door and closed it once you were inside.

"You're back?" Jungkook's voice could've startled you if you weren't already freaking the fuck out. "Jungkook...I just got stopped by the cops." You looked over at him and you visibly saw his adam's apple bob from the gulp he swallowed. "Yeah? And?" This fucker is playing dumb. "And? Jungkook you're wanted by the police! What did you do?" You exclaimed. "Okay, say it louder for the security down the hall." He rolled his eyes, his arms folded across his chest as he huffed, annoyed.

"I didn't do anything." Your eyes could've popped out your head with how hard your eyes were bulging at him. "The police seem to think differently. They showed me your fuckin mugshot, dude." You sat next to his bed, your hands raking your hair with frustration. "That was from something unrelated. This time...it wasn't me." He looked like he really wanted you to believe him. "What happened?" You just wanted to know. You weren't sure if you were sitting with an innocent man or some kind of killer but it would help to make sure?

Jungkook paused, his eyes dashing around as if he was thinking if he should even tell me or not. "Fine...don't tell me." You were starting to get annoyed. You were hoping he would trust you, with you saving his life and all, but that didn't seem to be the case. "(Y/N)..." He started but you were quick to shut him down. "Forget it. Good luck with your case." You slide open the door, your face turned pale when you saw a nurse walking with a police officer.

You slide the door shut once more, and Jungkook looked at you curiously. "Jungkook...the police are here." You whispered. You felt the room go cold and Jungkook looked around nervously. "We gotta go." He started moving, ripping his IV out his arm swinging his leg over the bed with a groan. "Wait what? What the fuck? N-No!" You walked over to him, trying to push him back by his chest. He pushed your hands away.

"I'm not about to be taken for something I did not do." He was angry. Frustrated. You hesistated, watching as he stood and grabbed his bag of clothes. "I'll...I'll help you." Jungkook turned towards you. "You will? Even though you don't know if I'm some crazed killer or not?" You pursed your lips. "Is that what they're trying to arrest you for?" Jungkook took a deep breath in, not saying anything else as he limped towards his things that were put into a hospital bag and then slipped on his hospital slippers.

He turned towards you again, looking you over once more as you stood there. "Are you just gonna stare at me or are you gonna come with me?" You nodded, going over to him and letting him wrap his arm around your shoulder once more. You slid open the door, looking in the direction of where the nurse and officer were and not seeing them. "They might be talking about you, we gotta go." You whispered and Jungkook nodded, following you towards the nearby stairs.

"Wait, can we use the elevator?" Jungkook looked at you as if you were the dumbest on earth. "You truly are the most annoying person I've ever met." He let go of your shoulder. "You go on the elevator, distract the nurse and cop, and meet me on the side of the building. I'll call someone to pick us up since you apparently don't live around here." He rolled his eyes and opened up the door to the stairs, wincing slightly in pain.

You nodded, ignoring his earlier remark and started for the elevator. Right as you were close, the nurse and cop you saw earlier spotted you. "Excuse me? Visiting hours ended a while ago." She said. You looked at her apologetically. "Sorry...my boyfriend was shot and I just needed to see him one more time. Bring him some snacks and stuff." You continued heading for the elevator, ignoring the calls from the nurse and officer as you pressed the first floor button and mashed the 'closed elevator' button repetitively.

Once you got to the first floor, you walked calmly out the door, ignoring the looks from the earlier officer that questioned you earlier. As soon as you touched the outside, a large exhale escaped your lungs. How long were you holding your breath? As you walked, you heard a low voice call out to you. "(Y/N)." Jungkook called for you in a silent yell. You hurried over to him, grabbing his arm once again to help him balance himself.

"Where is your friend?" You looked up at him. "Behind here." He started walking and you tried your best to help him along the way, the weight of his body was a little easier to handle now. He wasn't extremely heavy, but the amount of muscle on him did add to his weight and made it a little hard to keep hold of him.

As you kept walking you noticed a car parked with its lights off. You opened the door and Jungkook slowly sat into the back seat, wincing and groaned the whole time. You tried to look at the driver but couldn't. What if this is just his plan to kidnap you? You know what he's on the run for, getting rid of you will just make things easier.

"Come on." Jungkook grabbed your arm, pulling you into the car with him. You sat, a little reluctant but deciding it's for the best. You could have somewhere to sleep, if Jungkook doesn't kill you first. Once you were inside, you could now see who was driving. Kim Seokjin. Jungkook's other best friend in this story.

"Jesus Christ dude, who did that to you?" He looked back at Jungkook, his eyes then shifting to you. "Is this a new one?" That question almost seemed like an insult. New one? You don't remember Jungkook being a player in the story? How many relationships has he been in?

"Shut up and drive, dude. I'm sure the cops just realized I'm gone." Jungkook looked around, almost paranoid. "Okay fine." Seokjin started driving, waiting till he was on the road before turning his headlights on. He then turned on the radio, pop punk softly playing. Jungkook was exhausted. Terribly exhausted, and he couldn't help but rest his head on your shoulder. You stiffened at first, but then understood immediately and relaxed.

You smell good. He thought to himself as he took a slow deep breath, taking in your scent. Even though you smelled slightly of his blood, there was this other natural scent from you. Your hair smelled clean. Like you just washed it before finding him bleeding out on the roof. He appreciated this. It helps him relax.

The drive was long, but it helped ease the worry between Jungkook's brow, and he was relieved when you all arrived at Seokjin's brother's house. "My brother is away on a business trip for a month, so this place is yours until you figure things out." Seokjin explained everything to you two as he helped Jungkook get out the car. Jungkook gritted his teeth in pain. He looked over to you, seeing your tired expression. "Is it okay if we use his clothes?"

"Yeah dude, no problem. Just make sure you wash everything before you leave." Seokjin opened the door for you, letting you in first before helping Jungkook. "There's two bedrooms, so there's another place to sleep." You glanced around the place. This was a very nice house. One you didn't mind staying in for as long as Jungkook wanted.

What was that? You were thinking as if you were gonna be here another night. This is just a very long, draining dream. After tonight, you will wake up in your bed or on the floor of your brother's room and wonder what happened. "Thank you, Hyung." Jungkook watched you as you walked around. "Oh, so now we're using formalities?" Seokjin joked, walking Jungkook into one of the rooms and setting him on the bed.

"Alright, I'll leave you two be. Reminder, this is only for a month, so don't get too comfortable. And also, please clean up after yourself. Also please throw all your condoms away in the outside trash or flush them, if ya'll use those. I don't want my brother asking too many questions." Seokjin looked at the both of you and you looked back at him wide eyed, your face as hot as an oven.

"Hyung. Stop. We're just friends." Jungkook looked almost as flustered as you, his eyes quickly averting yours. "Really? Just friends with someone this hot? Then you don't mind if I flirt with them right?" Seokjin flashed you a wide grin and you bit your lip nervously. Seokjin is a very...very handsome man yet you couldn't imagine doing anything with him. Jungkook glanced between the two of you and something rose within him. Jealousy? No fuckin way. Either way it pissed him off seeing his friend look at you like that.

"Jin..." Seokjin chuckled, shaking his head. "And the formalities are gone again." He headed out the room and down the hall. "Alright kids, I'll leave you two alone." You both waited in silence, waiting for the sound of the front door to close and lock before both exhaling.

"Holy shit...um...well. This is nice I guess." You were trying to find anything to get your mind off whatever just happened and you could see Jungkook either was trying to do the same or honestly didn't care because he just slowly laid down onto the bed. "I'm going to sleep. It's been a long night." He grumbled and you nodded, the awkward silence engulfing the room once again. "Gotcha...I'll just...go into the other room." You headed towards the door before hearing the bed creak slightly.

"Goodnight." Jungkook stared at you as you walked out the door and slowly closed it behind you. "Night, Jungkook." You said before shutting it. Once you were out the room, you felt all the stiffness and uneasiness leave you. Holy fuck, you need a shower. You smelled of blood and sweat and it was utterly disgusting. You went straight into the bathroom and started the shower, shedding your clothes off and hopping in as soon as the water was scolding hot. You let the water drop onto your naked body, the water slowly washing the dried blood off of you and trailing into the drain. You grabbed the soap on the side and started scrubbing, almost as if you were trying to scrub five layers of skin off.

After your shower and you felt like you were fresh and raw from the hot water and hard scrubbing, you wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel and made your way into the other bedroom. Once you were inside you opened a dresser and saw a couple large shirts. You were thankful they were huge cause you didn't have any spare underwear to wear.

You pulled it over your head, the soft material falling over your body and resting at your mid thigh. You put the towel to your hair and dried your hair as much as possible, your arms felt so tired that just lifting them to dry your hair was a lot of work. You put the towel on the ground and made your way over to the bed and went under the sheets. This was what you finally needed. A comfortable bed. And now, as you fall asleep, you can look forward to waking up back home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm glad you guys are liking the first chapter so far! Wanted to go ahead and post the second part to kinda get the story going so you know where everything is going :)

Let me know if you'd like a part three! <3

DO NOT POST/SHARE MY WORK ON TIKTOK

[myhockeyworld87]

Ruined - Jamie Benn - Part 6

Word Count: 4,461

POV: Jamie’s

Warnings: Language, NSFW, Smut

Notes: Since @bnthomp256 said please, here’s part 6...hehe! Just teasing I saw all of your likes and yeses so here you guys go. Thought I’d get it out last week but it’s the start of this week. Thank you guys so much for reading this series! As always I love your feedback, your reblogs, your tags and your likes! Happy Reading!!!

Sidenote: Also (Y/NN) = Your Nickname (Y/LN) = Your Last Name

Thunder roared in the background as you stood in the foyer, while (Y/N) decided whether or not to stay at your place or brave the storm that was raging on outside. "You're right, it's silly to go over there." She finally agreed, still dripping wet from head toe from her run home and then standing out in the rain trying to get inside her house.

"I'd suggest you take a shower to warm up, but with the storm and all." She shook her head in understanding. "How about I get you another pair of my sweats?"

 "I still haven't gotten the first set back to you," she laughed and you joined her, though she could have every pair that you owned for you enjoyed seeing her in them.

 "You know where they are. I'll grab us a glass of wine to warm up with." She trotted upstairs, trying to be quick so she wouldn't make a mess all over your house, even though it was just water.

 She was back downstairs just as you set the wine down on the coffee table in the living room. "This feels so much better. Thank you." She sat down on the couch beside you. "I seem to be thanking you a lot lately." You simply blushed and took a sip of wine, hopefully hiding how you truly wanted her to be thanking you.

 "It's really nothing. So, how's Jess's thumb?"

 "Good as new, though I doubt I should be drinking this wine as I just had two glasses with her. Thank goodness, I don't have any early appointments tomorrow."

 "Taking off work already," you teased her.

 "No, apparently Fridays are easy days at the office." She took another sip of wine, as you watched her tongue sneak out across her lips to catch a drop. What you wouldn't give to be that sole little drip of wine. "I really like how this practice works, not as fast-paced as where I was before. We barely had time with our patients, which isn't the case here."

 It made you happy to hear that she liked it in Dallas, considering you were going to be here a while yourself. "Well, I hope it doesn't get too crazy once the season starts."

 "It'll be a bit tricky to get everything scheduled, but I think I've got it figured out."

 "I'm sure you will. You were always way more organized than I ever was." (Y/N) was always the one who kept you on schedule with games, homework, and of course dates, though you never forgot those. The storm seemed to worsen as a loud crack of thunder sounded and streaky lightning filled the dimly lit room. (Y/N) jumped and you chuckled. "Still afraid of storms, huh?"

 "I'm not afraid."

 Her comment only made you laugh harder. "You used to say that all the time."

 This time she laughed and then playfully hit you on the chest. "Only you would remember that, and I only hate the bad ones." Just then another roar of thunder filled the air, with more flashes of lightning. "Like this one. Could you have any more windows in this house?"

 "Here, I'll close the blinds for you." You leaned over her and grabbed the remote for the windows, pressing the buttons for them to roll down. It was only once you set the remote back down did you realize how close you were to (Y/N). Your faces only a few inches from each other. Her eyes locked with yours, her heated stare warming your body, in places that they shouldn't. You should've moved back to your spot on the couch, but you didn't. Instead, you found yourself saying, "Better?"

 A breathy "yes," was your answer, right before her hand reached up and cupped your cheek. Your skin burned from her caress and you longed to touch her back, but were too afraid that she'd retreat back to her old self if you did, so you held your breath hoping not to break the spell. It was her next words that sent your head spinning. "Kiss me, Jame." You blinked hard, unsure if you heard her right, but then she nodded at your silence, giving you that permission you didn't know you asked. "Kiss me," she whispered once more, and you didn't need to be told a third time.

 Your lips were hesitant on hers at first, just a soft brush against hers, as you were both scared and thrilled at the same time. Scared that she'd pull away and thrilled that she was the one who initiated it, not that you hadn't wanted to kiss her, you'd been dying to since first running into that day on the street. You grew bolder, adding more pressure when she didn't pull back and it reminded you so much of that first time that you'd kissed her. That had been the start of something new, and your heart had pounded so hard you thought it was going to come out of your chest. That same feeling was happening again now. While this wasn't new per se, it was a fresh start for the two of you, a chance to start again and you savored every moment of it.

 (Y/N)'s hands slid their way to your neck, where she tugged you closer to her. It was all the encouragement you needed to deepen the kiss. When you glided your tongue along her bottom lip, her mouth easily opened for you. She moaned into your mouth at that first contact, the sound shooting straight to your cock making it rock hard. You hadn't wanted a woman this bad your whole adult life. It had always been (Y/N) and always would be. You felt her body relax into the cushions of the sofa, as she drug you down on top of her. Part of you felt like this was a dream, and if it was you never wanted to wake up. Your hands shifted to glide up her shirt; your rough fingertips caressing her silky-smooth skin. She wasn't wearing a bra, must have taken it off when she'd changed into your sweats. You cupped first one breast and then the other, rolling her nipples between your thumb and forefinger. She arched her back into your hand, the action almost breaking the kiss but her lips sought yours not yet wanting to let go, just the way that you'd already decided you would never let her out of your life again.

 A sense of déjà vu hit you. The two of you making out on your parent's couch, afraid someone would walk in, only this time that wouldn't happen. It was all so familiar, yet completely new at the same time.

 Her breasts were larger than you remembered, fuller and more rounded, and you longed to take a pert nipple in your mouth to see if she would call out your name the way she used to. Yet at the same time, you found yourself backing off, afraid to take things too far, too fast. A whimper escaped her lips, as you trailed your hands to her back, to press her body close, before finally breaking the kiss. Gently, you laid her back down on the cushions, as you pulled back to just stare lovingly into her eyes. Her gaze was so intense, and you saw the same desire in them that you felt. "Don't stop, Jame…." Her voice was breathy and needy, and it took all your will power to not just strip her clothes and take her right there on the sofa. "I want you." Fuck, those three little words were almost your undoing. How many nights had you longed to hear her say that? How many times had you prayed for this exact moment? Had gone to bed with thoughts of her wanting you like this.

 "(Y/N), I…"Jesus, you wanted this so bad, but it was more than just sex. You wanted her mind, body, and soul, and you weren't sure if she wanted the same. Even though it killed you, you sat back up on the couch, bringing her with you. She was still staring at you, though there was confusion written all over her face. You felt the same internal struggle. "(Y/N), I want you too…"

 "But…"

 It was as if she could read your mind. "But I don't just want this to be for one night. I'm in this for the long haul this time. I don't want to just sleep with you tonight and have you sneak out of my bed in the morning." You could see her absorbing all your words and you grabbed her hands placing them in yours, so she could not only hear the sincerity but feel it as well. "These last couple of days have been everything and I want more of them. I don't want to fuck it up. Not that sleeping together would do that, but…" God, you were never good with words, but this was harder than you thought. "I just want you to know. I'm not going anywhere this time…and I don't want you to run away because of our past. I know I fucked up, but things are different now. I'm different and if that means waiting to be with you until we're both on the same page then that's what I'll do."

 You hoped the words you spoke all made sense to her, as you watched a myriad of emotions play across her face. She was silent for a while and the longer she was the more nervous you became. "I won't lie, Jame. I'm scared as hell that you'll hurt me again."

 "I would never…"

 She placed a finger on your lips to shush you. "I know you want to say that you never would but our past says differently. I wish I could put that all behind us and maybe I can with time. All I know is that I want to try Jamie. I want to give us a chance." An overwhelming feeling of relief washed through you at her words. All you wanted was an opportunity to show her what things could be like between the two of you. How you would love her with every fiber of your being if she'd only let you. "And Jamie," she said capturing your full attention once again. "I don't plan on running away in the middle of the night or tomorrow morning." She emphasized her words by straddling your hips. "In case you forgot, I have a late morning tomorrow." She winked at you before taking both of her hands and cupping your face as she brought her lips back down on yours. This time you were ready to fully give in to the primal urges coursing through your body. That was until your phone rang at that exact moment and she pulled back.

 "It's Jessi."

 "Tell her you'll bring me over tomorrow morning, to get my stuff." She pecked your lips quickly before letting you answer the phone.

 "Uh Jess…" you tried to speak, but (Y/N)'s lips were on your neck, causing the best kind of distraction.

 "Hey Jame, was that enough time?" (Y/N) sucked at your pulse point and you groaned slightly into the phone. "Are you two…?"

 "Umm….yes. We'll get it in the morning," you finally managed to mumble out.

 "EEEKKK. That's so exciting. I want to hear everything. Well, not everything," she rambled on a continuous stream of words, while (Y/N) slid her hands under your shirt and up your chest.

 "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Jessi." You hung up the phone, even as she was still speaking, knowing that Jessi would understand once you told her that (Y/N) was giving you a second chance. You stilled (Y/N)'s hand though when she reached your waistband and undid the button there. "Before you go any farther, I need to tell you something."

 (Y/N) sat back on your lap, making it a bit uncomfortable as your cock was pressed intimately against her, even though you were both fully clothed. "Ok."

 "I just don't want there to be any secrets if we're starting fresh." She eyed you skeptically and you hated the looked that crossed her face, that one that was afraid to trust you. "Jessi was home the entire time tonight. She just wanted to give us some time alone." You searched her expression to see if she was angry about the lie that you'd told her. It was the upturn of her lips and the little laugh that escaped them that let you know she wasn't upset.

 "I kind of figured. She seemed to be rooting for us when I was talking to her early."

 "Oh, so you were talking about me?" You teased as your hands bunched her sweatshirt up so they could settle on the bare skin at her waist.

 "Maybe…" Her cheeks turned the most adorable shade of pink and you wondered if there were other parts of her body that were blushing as well.

 "Just maybe huh?"

 She nodded her head yes, then slid her hands around your neck. "Well…if we're confessing things. I have one of my own." You pulled back slightly so you could look her straight in the eye. "I remembered the code to get in the house halfway here."

 "Oh," you said, surprised that she'd come over here on her own free will. "So, you just wanted to see me, huh?"

 Your hands ran up and down her sides caressing her skin. "Nah, I just wanted to steal some more of your sweats."

 "Stealing my clothes already?" This time your fingers tickled her sides, causing her to burst out in laughter with you joining her. "I guess I'm going to have to make you pay for them now." The more you tickled her, the louder she laughed, her body wiggling all over yours until you flipped her so her back was on the couch and you were looming over top of her. Both of you immediately stopped giggling, as you gazed into each other's eyes, the mood suddenly changing from its playful atmosphere to one of sexual desire.

 It was (Y/N) who spoke first. "I guess you better name your price then." It took you a minute to realize she was talking about the sweats, still being sassy while the sexual air between you sizzled.

 The truth of the matter was she could have anything she wanted, for she already owned your heart. "Maybe we should continue this discussion upstairs then." You looked down at her your eyes filled with both lust and love, that same feeling for her you had fourteen years ago. She wanted you as well, she had even said the words earlier, though now you could feel it in her touch and see it in her gaze. It was too soon to hope that she would return the love you so desperately longed to show her, but with time, that would come.

 You eased yourself off the couch and then leaned down to help (Y/N) up. She laced her fingers through yours as you led her to the staircase. Pausing at the base, you turned and hauled (Y/N) close to your chest before asking her, "Are you sure?" You needed her to know that things didn't have to go that far if she didn't want them to.

 "Yes Jame, I'm sure." She emphasized her point, by going up on her toes and locking her lips to yours. An overwhelming need to have her in your bed naked took over. You scooped her up under her knees and carried her up the stairs, never breaking the kiss. As soon as you crossed the threshold of your bedroom, you shut the door, effectively closing the two of you off to the rest of the world. In here is it was just you and (Y/N), nothing and no one else mattered, as you gently laid her down on the bed.

 In one swift move, you had her top removed and then you were staring down at her half-naked form. Your mouth was everywhere on her, on her lips, across her jaw, trailing down her neck, until finally, you took a taut peak into your mouth. "Mmmm," she moaned out as you paid homage to each nipple. Her hands threaded in your hair, before reaching down to pull on your t-shirt. Your mouth only left her body so you could remove the garment, and then her hands were on your chest and roaming across your back. Nails lightly raking across your skin and causing gooseflesh to rise everywhere she touched. You couldn't get enough of her. Knew that if you spent the rest of your life with her, it would never be long enough.

 Lips ghosting down her abdomen, you kissed her right above the waistband of your borrowed sweats, as memories of your first and only time with her started to seep back into your brain. Your cock felt like that sixteen-year-old boy again, ready to explode at any minute, though just like back then, you knew you needed to make it good for her. Her hips lifted as you pulled the sweats off her body, taking the tiny lace thong with them so that she lay there bare for you. She was more beautiful now than she had been at sixteen, if that was even possible. Back then she'd been on the cusp of becoming a woman; now, she was fully there. All soft and supple, with curves in all the right places. She was literally a man's fantasy come to life, and she was yours. "You're so damn beautiful," you breathed out, and a blush rose to her cheeks at your compliment. You wanted to tell her that she was more gorgeous today than back then, but didn't need the ghosts of your past haunting your present. They had no place in this room. Instead, you spread her legs, your hands running up and down her calves and thighs before your mouth followed their path. It all led to that one spot, the place you longed to bury yourself deep inside, but not quite yet. Not before your mouth could see if she tasted as sweet as you remembered.

 Her body was trembling, and not from fear but with excitement, as you took that first long lick between her folds. "Jamie," she moaned out at just that simple touch, and your name on her lips spurred you on. You started with soft kitten-like licks, your tongue getting coated with her wetness. Her hand worried through your locks, and her nails scratched into your scalp with each lick, urging you on. "Mmm…yes, Jame…yes." You flicked your tongue faster across her clit, feeling her hips rise, as you placed a steadying hand across her stomach, to hold her in place as you devoured her pussy. She tasted just as delicious as you remembered and you could've spent hours there just driving her insane, but when you dipped your tongue inside her cunt, you felt the first blush of her orgasm begin. "Fuck, Jame…I'm gonna cum." You thrust your tongue in deeper encouraging her to cum all over your mouth. "Oh god…Jamie," she cried out as pleasure washed over her, and you felt a rush of wetness hit your mouth.

 "Mmm," you moaned out as you lapped at her pussy. Her body went lax as she came off her high, but you weren't done yet. You had fourteen years to make up for, and you planned on starting tonight. Taking your index finger, you slowly thrust it inside her, while your tongue moved back to work on her little nub. Just soft licks as her body was still over-sensitized from her first orgasm.

 "Jamie, what are you…." She didn't finish that sentence, as your finger found her g-spot and you rubbed the pad of it back and forth against her pleasure spot. "Fuck, Jame….I…oh god…" Her words were almost incoherent, her body writhing each time you touched her. Your mouth nibbled on her clit at the same time and you could feel her losing control again. "I can't," she panted out, yet you knew she could.

 "Come on baby, just one more," you encouraged, then latched back onto her little nub.

 "Oh, Jame…I…Fuck…" She was there then, quivering around your finger that kept making that come hither motion inside her. Her body bucked up into your mouth, as you worked her through her second orgasm until the shaking finally subsided and she relaxed back into the mattress. A grin broke out across your face, and you planted a soft kiss on her pussy, before pulling out your finger and working your way back up her body. "I think you're trying to kill me," she breathed out, though she was smiling from ear to ear.

 "Only in a good way baby." She brought your lips to hers then, tasting her sweet essence that still lingered there. Her one leg stole to the back of your thigh, the heel of her foot running up and down before she broke from the kiss.

 "I think you're overdressed, Mr. Benn." Her hands trailed down to where your button was still undone from her earlier work on the sofa. All she had to do was slide the zipper down then shimmy them past your hips and you were free, though you kicked them and your boxers off your legs and onto the floor, before going back to kiss her again.

 "Better," you asked once the garments were discarded.

 Her hands snaked down your body to your cock, where she began stroking it. "Much," she hummed out, while you groaned out in pleasure. "My turn," she said, with a playful shove to your chest, so that you would roll onto your back, but there would be none of that tonight. Just like the first time you were together, you knew if her lips touched your cock it would all be over and you'd waited too long to be inside her again to have it all end that way.

 "Not tonight, baby," you told her then pecked her lips. Her palm twisted around the head of your cock and you almost spent right there in her hand. You had to grit your teeth, at the exquisite feeling. "Now who's trying to kill who?" You gripped her wrist to stop her before she got carried away.

 "Just trying to return the favor." (Y/N) nipped at your lower lip, pulling it between her teeth, before sucking on it. She really would kill you if she kept this up, but what a way to go. You took control of the situation before things got out of hand, spreading her legs farther apart, before replacing her hand with your own so you could guide it into her warm and waiting entrance. She felt like the finest silk wrapped around you, as you entered her pussy. It was even better than that first time had been. "Mmm," she moaned out as you filled her with your cock. When you were buried all the way inside her you thought back to fourteen years ago and how you'd looked into her eyes and told her you loved her. That love was still there today, and you longed to tell her how you felt, but knew she wasn't ready for that. It took every ounce of self-control not to whisper those eight letters to her. Instead, you let your eyes speak the words you so longed to say as you locked yours with her, before starting that slow thrust in and out of her.

 Her hips met each slow thrust until you couldn't take it anymore and you pumping your cock into her at a frenzied pace. While somewhere in your mind you knew this wouldn't be your only time with her, you knew you wanted to make this last, so you slowed to a steadier rhythm. Moans filled the room, both yours and hers, as your lips would connect then pull apart as you both needed air. Every now and then you would dip down and suckle on her pulse point, driving her even more insane. "Yes…Jame…yes," (Y/N) would pant out.

 "Fuck you feel so good," you told her as you thrust inside her over and over. Taking her leg, you repositioned you both, so that it rested against your chest, letting you drive into her pussy even deeper. There was no holding back then, as your cock was buried to the hilt. "I'm so close, babe."

 "Me too," she murmured. Still, your hand snuck down to rub her clit, making sure she reached that pinnacle before you did. "Oh god, Jame," she screamed as her climax hit, her nails biting into your back as she came hard. She said your name over and over like a benediction, until you spiraled out of control, thrusting deep into her and cuming with her.

 Your body tensed, and you groaned out her name as you filled her with your cum. "(Y/N)," you called out, her body wrapping around yours, holding you close as you came. You slumped forward, your body relaxing as you floated back to earth. You twisted both of you to your sides, as to not crush her, though your cock remained inside her as it grew flaccid.

 The two of you laid there, lazily kissing one another, neither ready to break the intimate contact you'd just shared. She finally needed air and broke the kiss, yet snuggled deeper into your side; her lips pressing soft little kisses to your chest, while you kissed the top of her head. You just laid there a few moments catching your breath, while her fingers drew slow circles along your back and arms. It was (Y/N) who finally broke the silence. "So, is this your way of not getting me to run?"

 You moved so that you could see her face in the dim light, not catching her meaning. "Huh?"

 She giggled then, the sound vibrating through your body. "Your cock is still inside me."

 "Oh shit, sorry." You made a move to pull out, but the leg she had slung over your hip, tightened its grip, pulling you closer to her.

 "I'm teasing Jame. I like you like this, or rather us like this."

 "Mmm, me too," you mumbled before ghosting your lips over hers.

 "Definitely easier for round two." She winked at you before burying her head into your chest. At her mention of the words round two, your cock twitched showing signs of life again. "Well, that was fast," she said eluding to your growing erection. Oh yes, round two was definitely going to happen, and maybe rounds three and four as well.  

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hey Steph!

Any chance you've got any fics where John and Sherlock come out publicly (an AU or just canon)? For some reason I just adORe the tension

Anyway, thanks for everything you do on your blog, it's hugely appreciated!

Hey Lovely!!

Ahhhh Hmm I thought I had a list for this but apparently not, oof. 

Here’s what I can offer you with my tags in my bookmarks and MFL’s! Feel free to add some, y’all if you have any I missed!

COMING OUT

See also: 

Homophobia / Sexuality / Pride || [John’s Sexuality]

John’s Friends Find Out About Sherlock

John’s Internalized Homophobia

Ex by Itsallfine (T, 1,248 w., 1 Ch. || Angsty Fluff, Love Confessions, Coming Out, Exes, First Kiss, Fake Relationship, Getting Outed) – One night, in the midst of their post-case high and on the cusp of something more, John and Sherlock run into John’s ex. His ex-boyfriend.

Down with this Ship by FrostedFlame (PinkOrchid) (M, 10,862 w., 10 Ch. || For a Case, Gay Bar, Pining, Coming Out, Slow Burn) – Sherlock drags John undercover to a gay bar - for a case, of course - looking forward to seeing John flustered by their surroundings (since you know, he's NOT GAY). John decides that he has hidden both his orientation and his feelings for his daft flatmate for far too long. He is done hiding, time to be honest with his bloody best friend in the world. He just hopes it won't change anything between them. And then it does.

The Pieces That Fall to Earth by Itsallfine (M, 49,513 w., 84 Ch. || S4 Fix-It, Epistolary, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Parentlock, Past Abuse, Coming Out, Internalized Homophobia, Questioning Sexuality, Mental Health Issues / Therapy, Angst, Happy Ending) – John and Sherlock have hit rock bottom, but with all their armor stripped away, they can finally speak honestly, seek healing, and find the truths that matter most. An epistolary post-s4 fix-it fic. Now complete. (This fic is rated T except for one very clearly marked and easily skippable chapter, which is rated M.) Part 1 of The Pieces that Fall to Earth

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Hollywood / Actor AU, Secret Relationship, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Romance, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Pining) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role

MARKED FOR LATER

About Being Gay by A_Candle_For_Sherlock (G, 1,088 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Coming Out, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, First Kiss, Romantic Fluff, Older Rosie) – Rosie looks up from Sherlock’s picture book about poisonous plants, gives Sherlock a look and asks, 'Are you gay, Sherlock?' and Sherlock, without missing a beat, just says 'Yes,' and continues drinking his tea, and Rosie says 'Ah,' and goes back to her plant book, and John nearly doubles over in the corner.

A Regular not at all Terrifying-for-unknown-reasons Conversation by Dodoa (T, 5,506 w., 1 Ch. || Asexual Sherlock, Unilock, Best Friends, Coming Out, Self-Discovery, Dialogue Heavy, Self Acceptance) – Sherlock is trying to work something out and goes to John for help. John might not have all the answers, but he's determined to help.

Still alive by LoLecter (M, 8,375 w., 1 Ch. || Teenlock AU || Trans!Sherlock, Suicide Attempt, Overdose, Friends to Lovers, Coming Out, Bisexual Character, Fluff, Transphobia, Asshole Parents, Big Brother Mycroft) – Sherlock has known he was transgender for a while now and he decides to come out to his parents, but they react badly and Sherlock end up trying to kill himself only to be saved by his best friend John who doesn't know anything about Sherlock being trans.

Isolated by CarmillaCarmine (G, 8,549, 6/7 Ch. || WiP || Quarantine From Virus, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Bi-Panic, Cuddling & Snuggling, Coming Out, Bathing/Washing, Bubble Bath, Kissing) – Due to an ongoing pandemic, John and Sherlock find themselves isolated at 221B.

Who I Really Am by agirlsname (T, 13,067 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE [1] or [2] || Post S4, Bisexuality, Coming Out, Grief/Mourning, POV John, Pining, Sexuality Crisis, Alcoholism, Internalized Homophobia, Angst With Happy Ending) – You don't tend to give up your heterosexual privilege without a fight.

Coming Out by LiviKate (M, 13,439 w., 5 Ch. || Teenlock, Homophobia, Coming Out, Friends to Lovers, Pining John, Oral Sex, Drunk John, Bisexual John, Teen Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Reconciliation, Arguing) – John has had feelings for his best friend for a very long time. Feelings he knows will never be returned. When John goes out to drown his sorrows in booze and girls, he finds himself falling into bed with a man for the first time instead. John doesn't expect Sherlock to think much of it, as he had never cared either way about people's sexualities. But when Sherlock finds out, things go downhill quickly, leaving John confused and alone. Can the two friends come back together after such an explosive coming out? If they do, will it be like before? Or might it be so very, very different?

Straight Boy Pain by Glenmore (NR, 18,257 w., 10 Ch. || Coming Out, Pain, Romance, Birds, Sexuality) – Sherlock is in pain. Billy Kinkaid, the Camden garroter and best man Sherlock knows, diagnoses it. Ademar Silver, a male prostitute in south London, attempts to treat it. Lestrade, kindly Detective Inspector of New Scotland Yard, doesn’t notice it. Eventually, John Watson, healer and registered medical doctor, cures it. And a beautician called Penny paints Sherlock’s toenails.

The Lying Doctor by pagimag (E, 44,285 w., 20 Ch.  || S4 Fix It, Hurt/Comfort, Past Alcohol/Drug Abuse, Anger Issues, Depressed John, Watson Siblings, Coming Out, Bi John, First Time, Dom/Sub Undertones, Parentlock, Internalized Homophobia, Past Child Abuse, Angst With Happy Ending) – Sherlock and John's relationship is fragile after the events at Culverton Smith’s hospital. John struggles with guilt and anger issues. During a case he decides to visit his aunt, which leads to an unexpected development. He’s forced to reevaluate ingrained behaviours, confront long lasting issues and question how he leads his life.

In Bed by Ellipsical (E, 46,922 w., 12 Ch. || Autofellatio, Vibrators, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Liminal Identities, Christmas, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, Fingering, Jealous John, Therapy, Flirting, Texting, Fluff, Sherlock’s Violin, Anal, Est. Rel., Semi-Public Sex, Harry Watson, Communication, Coming in Pants, Spitroasting, Double Penetration, Dirty Talk, Internalized Homophobia, Self-Acceptance, Happy Ending, PTSD John, Coping Mechanisms, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) – It’s almost Christmas, John thinks, and this, this is bullshit. The epilogue to Guilty Secrets. Part 2 of Guilty Secrets

NO! by Tildathings (M, 50,043 w., 36 Ch. || Homophobia, Bed Sharing, Military Uniforms, Past Abuse, Jealous John, Stalking, Violence, First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Pillow Talk, Coming Out, Sherlock’s Past, Shower, Cuddling, Grief and Sorrow, Hugs, Character Death) – Sherlock has been in a coma in over 8 months after he overdosed on the plane at TAB, during which time Mary and Rosie were killed by Vivian Norbury.  This story starts 3 weeks after Sherlock has woken up. John is asking to move back to Baker Street.

What have you done? by Tildathings (M, 63,940+ w., 17/? Ch. || WiP || Interenalized Homophobia, John’s Family, Coming Out, Sherock/OMC, Hugging, Suicide, John Deduce’s, Nightmares, Love Confession, First Date, Bed Sharing, Psychiatry) – John have been invited by Sherlock on a pub night?! Sherlock said to him at Monday that Greg and Mike wanted him to come with them on a pub night. Sherlock is afraid that he would do something wrong socially left alone, so could John come with him? When John arrives at the pub Two Broken Hearts he sees Sherlock talking to a man.

A Change of Heart by SosoHolmesWatson (E, 65,436 w., 20 Ch. || Post-S4 / Canon Compliant, Jealous Sherlock, Past Abuse, Parentlock, Dev. Rel., Idiots in Love, Suicidal Sherlock, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Mollstrade, Coming Out, Love Confessions, Big Brother Mycroft, John’s Childhood, POV Alternating, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Hand Jobs) – After all they have been through, after all the heartbreak and desolation, John and Sherlock want to make their way back to each other, still convinced that friendship is all that can exist between them. Will there be a change of heart? Part 1 of the The Pains of Growing series

Worst Kept Secrets by Sherlock1110 and sherlockian4evr (M, 61,515+w., 8/? Ch. || WiP || Engagement, Coming Out, Angst and Feels, Homophobia, Idiots in Love, Big Brother Mycroft, Fluff, Scars, Weddings, Honeymoon, Playing Pirates, Parasailing, Archaeology, Paintball, Swimming, Golf) – For the prompt: What if the thing Mycroft did to upset Mummy... was to come out? What if, as a teenager, Mycroft decided to tell his family that he is gay, and his parents disowned him for it? It's okay now, he runs the British Government, he IS the British Government, but there's still that tiny part of him that wants his parent's acceptance, especially now he's found the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with. Part 4 of the Sherlock and Mycroft Fluff series

Sacré Coeur by Mamaorion (M, 95,235 w., 27 Ch. || S4 Fix It Rewrite, First Kiss, UST / RST, Eventual Happy Ending, Coming Out, Holmes Family, Marriage Proposal, Husbands, Healing, Evil Mary, Beekeeping, Caretaker Sherlock, Mind Palace, Alzheimer’s Disease, Protective / Big Brother Mycroft, TD-12) – In this s4 fixit, John must piece together the gaps in his altered memory if he and Sherlock are to face the terror that has plagued Sherlock since childhood. As they untangle the web, seven years of hidden love ignite.

Full Court Press by MissDavis (E, 126,123 w. || College Basketball AU || Unilock, Masturbation, Homophobia, First Kiss / Time, Oral/Anal, Coming Out, Switchlock, Blowjobs) – Sherlock Holmes has accepted a scholarship to play basketball at the College of St. Bartholomew's. He expects to be their star player and turn the team's losing record around. He does not expect to fall in love with the team's captain, a certain scrappy point guard named John Watson. Or: Sherlock is the team's best shooter. John is the team's best ball-handler.

Nine and a Half Weeks by CumberCurlyGirl and Kameo (E, 175,094+ w., 35/? Ch. || WiP || American AU || Different First Meeting, Daddy Kink, Bottomlock, Anal Plug, Riding Crops, Spanking, Light Bondage, Anal/Oral, Aftercare, Posh John, Virgin Sherlock, Homophobia, Sugar Daddy John, Rimming, Coming in Pants, Light Dom/Sub, Past Sherlock / Victor, Light BDSM, Public Sex, John in a Kilt, Vibrators, Happy Ending) – Sherlock Holmes is about to graduate from high school in midwestern America. Despite his intelligence, his prospects are bleak due to poverty, an indifferent, alcoholic father and poor choices. One day, at work, he sells a riding crop to a handsome blonde Brit and his life is changed. He doesn't know what hit him - until he does. This is a story of a journey to love and self-acceptance and explores many themes along the way: drug abuse, grief, coming out, age difference, consent. Lots of sex but so much more.

Of Ice and Men by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 176,906 w., 20 Ch. || Olympics AU || Paralympics, Prosthesis, Disability, Established Relationship, Threesome - Johnlockstrade, Angst with Happy Ending, Coming Out, Secret Relationship, Asexuall Sherlock, Pilot John) – Greg wants Sherlock to win his first Olympic Gold medal. Sherlock wants John to win his first Olympic Gold medal. John wants Greg to come to bed wearing all four of his Olympic Gold medals, and you didn't really think this would be that terribly serious after reading that title, did you? Bundle up, it's a Winter Olympics OT3!

Radioactive Trees In A Red Forest by Maribor_Petrichor (E, 280,251 w., 73 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-S4, Suicidal Ideations, Alcohol / Rx Drug Abuse, Coming Out / Bisexual John, Seizures, Past/Referenced/Implied Child Abuse, Hallucinations, Rehab, Celibacy, Sobriety / Relapse, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, Psychological Trauma, Nice /Not Anti-Mary, John’s POV, Parentlock, First Time, Angst, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending) – John Watson is what happens when a man can no longer see a reason to go on. John Watson is what happens when a man starts to let go. "It is what it is." John Watson is what happens when what "it is" becomes too much to bear. This is a story of the life, death, and resurrection of John Hamish Watson.

[siratrem]

I need to nerd out about Haikyuu right now (Season 1 Episode 1) (manga spoilers)

I have nobody that I can nerd out about Haikyuu with so I’ll do it here.

My first introduction to volleyball was through Haikyuu and watching reactors from coaches and players on YouTube really expanded my understanding of this manga/anime. Now that I’ve finished the manga and watched all available episodes (more than once) I want to see why I find this shounen sports anime so bloody compelling.

A good beginning sets up the middle and end. The opening scene of Haikyuu is the famous “a tall, tall wall looms before me…”. Before the rewatch, I had it in my head that the scene after the opening (Hinata seeing the Little Giant on TV) was the first scene. So, no, Furudate-sensei actually started this chapter at the end – Hinata is already in the Karasuno gym, he’s already scared of the block, and he’s lining up with the shoes of five of his teammates. This is a common framing technique – sets up the question of “how did we get here?”.

On my first watch of Haikyuu, I didn’t know anything about volleyball. I have, however, watched a fair amount of anime, including shounen. I think my inexperience actually helped me understand why Hinata was so awestruck by the Little Giant when he saw him on TV.

I knew the premise of the anime – tiny Shoyo wants to play a sport made for tall people – but rewatching it actually confused me. This scene is set 3-4 years before even making it to Karasuno, so Shoyo is, what, 11? He doesn’t know how tall he’s going to be, so why was he fixated on this “small” player going up against the bigger blockers? I mean, he could still be small for his age and be self-conscious about it, I guess, but not like he would be at 15. Then I thought – maybe it’s because the Little Giant jumped so high?

Shoyo is small, yes, but he can jump high. This is a defining aspect of his character. This was also the moment Shoyo became interested in volleyball, from what I can tell. So, if he’s as inexperienced as me, he wouldn’t be able to see the technique that the Little Giant used to defeat the big blockers. In his little kid head, maybe he assumed that the Little Giant beat the blockers because he jumped so high. So, perhaps little Shoyo thought: hey, I can jump high → I’ll be good at volleyball.

Themes

What are the overarching themes of Haikyuu shown in this episode?

Friendship. This is a Shounen anime, after all. Hinata makes friends wherever he goes, but it’s not until the match in this episode (and later Karasuno) that he finds a place that he belongs. Hinata has a wide variety of friends and is lovable enough to both get Izumi and Koji to join his team and make them emotional about the game.

Kageyama takes a liking to him from this match (although whether Mr Grumpy himself even recognises this is up to interpretation). From the moment they snap at each other in the hallway outside the gym bathroom to that beautiful jump that scores the first genuine point for Hinata’s team, Kageyama is intrigued by the bouncing ball of sunshine. After the match is finished, Kageyama snaps at Hinata “what were you doing for the last three years?”. He’s the first person to see Hinata’s potential, although Hinata takes it as an insult. It’s okay – they just don’t know each other yet.

Rivalry. Kageyama vs Hinata. Later (ep 6 minor spoilers??): Karasuno (Hinata and Kageyama) versus Aoba Johsai (Kunimi and Kindaichi). Shoyo sees Kageyama as the biggest barrier to his dream of playing volleyball. He wants to defeat him with all his being: if he can defeat the strong player, then he will be the strong player.

Victory and defeat. Duh. It’s a sports anime. One team plays another in a game where only one can win. Hinata is sure he is capable – he’s over-confident and inexperienced. He doesn’t know what good volleyball looks like, let alone how to implement it. But he’s also a show-off – a facet of his personality I didn’t really grasp until season 4. He wants the recognition the Little Giant got. He wants a stadium of people to go “wow, did you see him jump? Did you see how he beat the three-man block? Oh my god, he’s so amazing”. I’m sure the cool nickname – the Little Giant – caught his attention as well. So if he tries hard and jumps high enough, he’ll win, right?

Yeah. Poor baby learns a very harsh lesson. This defeat is crushing. He jumped high, like the Little Giant, but he couldn’t defeat the block. Those looming hands haunt him – “a tall, tall wall looms before me…”. This is a barrier he can’t overcome and he doesn’t know *why...*You can see it on his face after the block – ‘huh? I copied the Little Giant’. This sets up the goal of the first season: Hinata needs to learn how to see what’s at the top, the other side of that tall wall. He needs to hit rock-bottom before he can start climbing up.

Kageyama’s team won because it was a better team. Kitagawa Daichi is a powerhouse on the Miyagi junior high volleyball scene. I don’t know if it’s a private school, but it’s a feeder school for Aoba Johsai, which is a private school. Both seem to have a specialism in volleyball training. Maybe if Hinata went to Kitagawa Daichi, [Manga spoilers] if he’d been introduced to volleyball as early as Kageyama was, maybe he’d already be a monster. Or maybe his natural instincts would have been trained out of him. It’s important to the story that Hinata starts off as an untrained underdog, deprived of good volleyball and hungry for victory.

Team versus the individual. Kitagawa Daichi was the favourite to win the whole tournament. It’s a powerhouse team with more players than can fit on the bench. They’re tall, they’re scary, they’re elite. The team members often go on to Aoba Johsai, a high school powerhouse. Hinata’s school didn’t even have a team until he came along. They’re small (exactly 6 players, no reserves, no libero). His teammates don’t even know the rules for the game. Hinata had to fight tooth and nail to get on the court. However, he’s encouraging to his team members and dedicated. He’s glowing at just being there. He wants to win, of course, but most of all he wants to play volleyball.

Volleyball is a team sport. “The team that wins is the one with the strongest six players”. However, at times, it seems like both Hinata and Kageyama are the only ones really playing on their teams. Kageyama is giving it his all, yelling at his team for not keeping up with him and slacking off. Hinata is the only one on his team who wants to be there, the only one who wants to play. He’s hitting the most spikes, jumping the highest, playing the best (not that that’s saying much). This match, in a large way, is Kageyama versus Hinata.

Talent. Kageyama is a genius setter. (Manga spoilers:) He was raised in a family of volleyball players (one of which is an alumnus of Shiratorizawa for christ’s sake). He’s enamoured with the sport – obsessed with it. He lives and breathes volleyball. (Manga spoilers:) he keeps a volleyball journal where he records and analyses every play, practice and game he’s ever made. He’s tall and strong and athletic. He goes to a school with a good volleyball training programme. He’s built for this game.

Hinata is (superhumanly) athletic. He can run fast and jump high. But he’s short and untrained. His talent is raw and unrefined. But it’s still enough to catch Kageyama’s attention.

Characters

Furudate-sensei is a fan of the Meaningful Name™ convention. This is actually fairly common in Japanese culture anyway: traditionally baby names are carefully chosen to reflect the parents’ aspirations for the children. (I also don't speak Japanese so I'm going off other people's translations for the kanji).

HINATA SHOYO (日向 翔陽) - “sun place” “soaring sunlight”. He’s a bouncing ball of sunshine who makes friends wherever he goes and jumps really high. He’s a shounen protagonist to his core: boundless enthusiasm, determination, friendship, the underdog. He’s also a magnetic hero.

This episode needs to cement the key aspects of Shoyo’s personality. He’s outgoing and “magnetic” – he makes friends with people from all walks of life. He is an underdog. Everyone loves an underdog, right? Effort and passion should be rewarded. The good guys should win. This episode really sets up how hard little Shoyo had to fight to be on the court and how he’s willing to fight to stay on it. The flashback occurring the moment he walks into the gym for his first tournament demonstrates this nicely: his junior high school didn’t have a team or a real club, none of his friends was interested in volleyball (although they were athletes of various persuasions) and he spent most of his time practising by himself against the wall or begging his friends to set the ball for him.

It’s okay, though: he has the magnetism of a true Shounen protagonist and not only manages to talk his friends into occasionally throwing the ball to him but also drags them to a tournament of a sport they’ve never played and don’t really understand. He’s also managed to talk some first-years into joining the team. Shoyo is very magnetic and I wonder how much he’s aware of it at this point. He’s not exactly reflective or a deep thinker.

He’s enthusiastic and determined. He will play volleyball to his full capabilities until the match point. When his teammate worries about getting hurt after watching him run into a wall, his response is “I don’t understand [why you want to slow down]. We haven’t lost yet”. It ain’t over until it’s over.

KAGEYAMA TOBIO (影山 飛雄) - “Shadow Mountain” “Flying Hero”. What are his main traits? He’s volleyball mad, he’s ambitious and competitive, he’s tall, he’s athletic and strong, and he’s grumpy. Also intimidating – to his opponents and his teammates. The second-years on his team are scared of him. He hates to hear them trash-talking other players as they are only benchwarmers. He’s a setter – a control freak who takes every match he plays seriously, no matter the opponent. He will win at his best, dammit, and without holding back. He especially seems annoyed that the benchwarmers on his team place themselves above Hinata, even though they’re not even good enough to be regulars. “Don’t ride the coat-tails”, he tells them.

He wants to beat the block and the faster the attack, the better the hit, he believes. If people can’t keep up with him, that’s their fault. His sets are perfect. They need to keep up with him. If only they were as fast as Hinata, and capable of hitting difficult sets like when Izumi fumbles the ball and Shoyo leaps to save it and hits it anyway. They score their first genuine point off that, and Kageyama is impressed.

Kageyama and Shoyo are opposites, but they’re also mirrors of each other. Both are reckless: Kageyama throws reckless sets and Shoyo will leap for the ball even if he has to crash into walls and what-have-you. Both want to win. Both have their talents. Both love volleyball.

Something I found interesting is how the characters are in “sets”. Shoyo and Kageyama, obviously – their relationship is one of the major focuses of the whole series. The secondary characters too: Kunimi and Kindaichi to Kageyama and Izumi and Koji to Shoyo. They share the same jersey numbers: Kindaichi and Izumi are #5 and Kunimi and Koji are #6. These “sets” of minor characters only exist in the narrative in relation to each other. If Kindaichi appears, Kunimi is never far behind.

Izumi and Koji are third-years at this point, so why are their numbers lower than the first years? I realised (at the end of the episode) that Shoyo actually talked the first years into joining the volleyball club, not just the tournament team. Shoyo inspired a new generation of volleyball players – something he continues to do throughout the series.

Kindaichi and Kunimi are often showed in the background of Kageyama’s shots. Kunimi is the first person to serve in the game – he gets a few service aces. Kindaichi is the ace(?) of the team, often shown spiking Kageyama’s sets. This is an example of the subtle manipulation of the audience: hinting that these faces will reappear. It’s the same kind of story-telling that makes the reactors I’ve watched feel so smart when they predict something. The author wants you to notice them. The author is practically hanging a sign over them saying “remember these two!”.

When Kindaichi almost misses a reckless toss from Kageyama and expresses surprise that they managed to score from it, Kageyama responds “Faster!”, which makes Kindaichi irritated. Kunimi complain about his sets with him – Kunimi makes a comment about not having to work so hard as they’re outclassing Hinata’s team by miles – but Kageyama is taking the game seriously.

Kunimi and Kageyama squabble over Kunimi’s “laziness” – he doesn’t run for balls when they’re far enough in points, he doesn’t see why they have to try hard against such a weak and untrained team.

Kindaichi and Kageyama argue over Kageyama’s sets. Kageyama is the self-centred King of the Court after all. I think Kindaichi is actually a friendly sweetheart – and he seems to interact with Kageyama the most and deals with most of his sets. These missed friendships are missed opportunities for the three of them. (Manga spoilers): Kageyama shows he wants to be friends and play with them as adults.

Then, there are the Karasuno players. No faces, just those awesome black club jackets. I love those things. I now know that they are Suga, Daichi and Tanaka, but Furudate-sensei is good at building tension and anticipation by hiding their faces.

They appear in the stands at the junior high tournament, talking about Hinata and Kageyama’s match. Suga comments on Kageyama being “the King of the Court”. Ep 2 spoiler: Suga is a setter. Of course he’s going to appreciate Kageyama. Daichi also appreciates the overwhelming talent. It’s Tanaka who bets on Hinata becoming a threat. Tanaka seems to like Hinata’s spirit and athleticism. Ep 2 spoilers: He’s also the main hitter for the team at this point, so as the setter recognises the setter, the hitter acknowledges the hitter.

We later see them upon Shoyo’s arrival at Karasuno amongst the other clubs gathering applicants. Shimizu is also there. Daichi comments on the limited selection of applicants – this sets up the fact that Karasuno has been in decline: the “flightless crows” and such. There’s character establishing moments: Suga trying to cheer up Daichi and Tanaka flirting (and getting shut down) by Shimizu.

The Little Giant. Shoyo’s inspiration and hero, who shapes the entire course of his life. The 170 cm wing spiker makes him fall in love with volleyball and determined to enter Karasuno High School. Interesting how Shoyo never mentions his name. Maybe he doesn’t know it? He doesn’t really seem to understand the Little Giant at all. (Manga spoilers): I think this is why, by the time we meet Tenma Udai, he isn’t upset about his hero leaving volleyball behind. Now that he understands volleyball, he knows that he could never be the Little Giant anyway. Their play styles are different. Their positions are different. Shoyo can now be himself, forge his own playstyle – Ninja Shoyo, the ultimate decoy.

One thing I like about the characters is how their personalities/character development reflect their play styles, which becomes more apparent later on.

Motifs

“A tall, tall wall looms before me…”. This is the opening (and closing) of the season. It’s Shoyo’s greatest barrier – a literal wall holding him back from scoring. He can’t overcome it on his own, so, as shown in the opening scene, he needs the five other players on his side to get through it.

Crows (obvs). I find it funny to watch non-weeb reactors who don’t know what “Karasu” means. There are crows everywhere in this anime*.* The first time Shoyo sees the Little Giant jump, he sees black crow wings over the arms and gets blasted by crow feathers. Inspiration – seeing a human fly. Shoyo is now hooked on volleyball. When Shoyo’s running to the volleyball gym on Karasuno campus, he startles a crow who drops a feather in his face.

King of the Court. Before Shoyo even hears Kageyama’s nickname, he sees him wearing a cape and crown. The crowd (which Furudate-sensei often uses for exposition) also give him that name, and then Suga repeats it. When Kageyama appears in the hallway outside the bathroom, Shoyo sees him wearing the same outfit. Of course, Shoyo thinks this is a great thing – a reflection of his talent and powerful aura. Kageyama sets too fast for Kindaichi during the warm-ups and criticises him. Kindaichi rolls his eyes and half-heartedly apologies. The coach scolds him and tells him that the best set is the easiest for the hitter to spike.

Face receives. 2. 1 with a football (soccer) to Shoyo’s face, the other when Koji misses a receive.

“I can jump”. Shoyo says it to Kageyama while he’s being chastised for talking big. Izumi says it to Shoyo when they’re trying to sike themselves up for their match.

The pre-game bathroom break. Shoyo gets nervous after seeing Kitagawa Daichi and runs to the bathroom, only to run into players from the opposing team. This is a running gag throughout the series.

I don’t know if this counts, but I saw Shiratorizawa jackets in the crowd at the junior high tournament.

Many Youtube reactors commented on how Shoyo runs everywhere. He runs through the Karasuno campus on the way to the gym. The bouncing ball of sunshine has one gear: zoom. Similarly, Kageyama sets fast while Shoyo can cross the volleyball court in the blink of an eye. Their play styles complete each other.

Jersey numbers. Shoyo is 1, Kageyama is 2. When they get their jerseys (spoiler maybe?), Kageyama is 9 and Shoyo is 10. This is the only time Shoyo’s jersey number is higher than Kageyama. (Manga spoilers): in the V-league, Kageyama is 20, Shoyo is 21, then 9 and 10 again in the Olympics. As mentioned above, Kindaichi and Izumi are #5 and Kunimi and Koji are #6.

“One more” - mou ikkai. Hinata will forever ask for one more chance to play volleyball. He asks Izumi to set for him despite his complaints.

“The strong get to remain on the court”. Shoyo has to be good at volleyball to play volleyball. He wasn’t good enough to beat Kageyama, so he only got to play 31 minutes before having to leave, while everyone else got to play more games. Kageyama is used to winning at this point and only values people who can stay on the court.

Plot

Kageyama versus Hinata. This is arguably the main plot point of the series. Hinata wants to win and Kageyama defeats him. Hinata sees him as a good player, so if he also wants to be a good player, he needs to be able to outplay him. Kageyama envies his natural jumping height and speed. They argue and fight and challenge and inspire each other – destined rivals. Such a shounen trope.

Hinata is an underdog who had to fight to stay on the court. He didn’t have a coach, he didn’t have a team. Kind of an aside, but somehow he has good jumping form (according to Coach Donny) which seems to confuse volleyball players who react to Haikyuu. They wonder why he doesn’t know how to change his spike direction and forget that he’s new to the sport. As someone who doesn’t know anything about volleyball form, I found this interesting.

Hinata is willing to put the work in to develop his skills. At the beginning of the episode, he is horrified when a teacher suggests he joins the girl’s volleyball team but asks them for help (along with the 1st years who seem to be permanent members now) at the end of the episode during the montage. He also studies for the High School entrance exams and makes it into Karasuno – his determination has paid off and he wants to go to his dream school even if he has to bike over the mountains every day.

Kitagawa Daichi is in the newspaper/magazines stating their defeat. This is foreshadowing the downfall of Kageyama and the King of the Court and sort of the big plot twist at the end of the episode:

“I’m finally at Karasuno!” Shoyo thinks, running to his first meet at the gymnasium. Then...Boom – Kageyama. His sworn rival is now his teammate.

I'm sure I missed a whole lot of stuff but this was what caught my attention.

[papabigtoes]

not a request or anything i just wanna say i fucking love how expressive your art is it's such a treat to look at

Thank you so much!

I’ve loved drawing expressions since I was a kid, Mtv/vh1 in the background and a whole pile of copy paper and a pencil on the ground was my childhood routine

The expressions in drawing, even though extremely fun, have also been helpful since my youth. Living with ASD I never knew how to properly smile for a camera until I was a little over 6 years old. When people told me to smile I legit looked like this

my first grade teacher pointed it out and instead of mocking me, she drew out different smiles and showed me how artists would look at themselves in the mirror and use it as reference (didn’t fully register that process until years after, but after that i always tried to smile and draw mimicking it and then try to show those expressions - in school theater as a kid even if i sounded the emotions out, my face would barely change, very straight-faced or way too exaggerated, in highschool art became more of a hobby and I started trying to fuse them together so I could act the emotions I tried to draw out).

I thought art was only gonna be a hobby, then in the first year of college i hit rock bottom due to being one of several victims in a sports hazing in the ocean that triggered months of horrid ptsd episodes. With meds and a LOT of continued therapy, art has been one of the friends that stuck with me and kept me going.

Art’s been a parent to me for a while, and just in general I get very uncomfortable when adults deprecate on their own creative work (In school especially - it’s extremely uncanny seeing it happen) - I believe art is a part of us, we created it, and we should aim to be accepting of the growth we make in it. I know it’s difficult. Hell, difficult doesn’t even scratch the surface. But that’s why the journey to enjoying what we all make is so important.

It’s all a process, painful and enlightening, be it fan or original pieces. We live too short of a time here where spending it bashing ourselves is a self-labor that bears no fruit. I’ve suffered from depression (at times chronic) for years, and art has been something that helps me learn about myself and appreciate life. Don’t get me wrong, art’s fuckin’ painful. But it can be the good painful? It’s like a hard day at the gym but in the brain folds.

In art we can make our own rules and break them, live in the moments and have fun. Go crazy in the creative way, draw wacky expressions, show gums and teeth, spooky eyes, someone laughing, choking on a sob, biting their tongue in order to not snap at someone, yanking on their ear to ground themselves to reality, zoned out, maybe they are so excited while talking they accidentally spit, maybe they are so deep in thought they don’t realize their brows are super furled. Expressions are beautiful, because they show the first sentence to the story of how we feel, if that makes sense? And drawing them is such a FUN RIDE

To conclude the poetic clown tangent here, I’m very glad to read that it is a treat! I love to draw emotions in art as it’s helped me grow both in personal and artistic ways. I think it’s a blast to see what looks and expressions certain characters would/could make, and I think certain faces can say much more than words ever can.

[emachinescat]

Sleep Stays as Far

A Tales of Arcadia: Trollhunters Fan-Fiction

By @emachinescat ​

@febuwhump day 6 - insomnia

Summary: Until Jim became a troll, he never realized how much he took sleeping for granted.  And once human again, he finds himself struggling to do the very thing he missed so much.  No rest for the weary, and all that.  Takes place after my story “Lest Back the Awful Door Should Swing,” though not a direct sequel.

Characters | Pairings: Jim, Claire, Toby, Blinky, Nomura | Jim/Claire

Words: 2,370

TW: None

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging! :)

So my thoughts are:

But sleep stays as far…

For sleeping, like death,

Must be worn without pride,

With a nod from nature,

With a lack of strain,

And a loss of stature.

- From “How to Sleep” by Philip Larkin

It’s strange, isn’t it, how human beings have a tendency to dismiss, or even grow to resent, things that, if taken away, they would miss very dearly?  

Jim Lake grew up hearing that old idiom that parents love to impart upon their children crying for that which they don’t have, “The grass is always greener on the other side.”  But never did it have more meaning to him than when he was turned into a troll and could no longer do a great number of things he had enjoyed as a human.

Eating normal human food was one, but his tastes changed with his body, and he soon adapted to his strange, newfound tastes.  He really missed being able to go out in the sunlight.  Walking through doorways without gouging grooves into the wood above with his horns was another.

Sleeping, though, was what he found himself missing the most.

It was funny, he thought wryly as he sat huddled in a corner of the cave he and his fellow travellers were currently occupying - just a month ago, sleep would have been at the very bottom of his to do list.  After all, he was a teenager, and what teenager has time for sleep?  Especially with his double life, Jim was used to working with very little sleep.  And even when he did have a rare night off, he still usually stayed up until the wee hours of the morning playing video games or watching Netflix.

But now, it seemed, sleep wasn’t something he needed.  At first he’d been thrilled.  He was finally able to stay up all night and not feel like he was trudging through quicksand the day after.  As Claire was the only one in their party who was human and had to sleep, there were plenty of others to keep him company during the long nights.  He trained with Blinky and Nomura, who, as a halfling, only slept about two hours a night, explored the world outside of whatever cave they happened to be staying in, and even played on his phone sometimes when things got quiet just before dawn.  

Eventually, though, he found himself distancing from his trollish friends and sitting, lost in thought, most nights.  Sometimes he would watch Claire sleep - not in a creepy way, just remembering what it was like to be able to curl up under a blanket and let the world fade away for a bit.

He’d had his battles with sleep before, and for a while, first after he’d returned from the Darklands, broken in so many ways, and then later, after healing wounds had been torn open by his arrest and forced journey into The Deep.  For weeks after these occurrences, he had been terrified to let sleep claim him, as nightmares haunted his mind, throwing him back into the Darklands, into a cage, into a pit.  

Time had passed, and he, with the help of his friends, had slowly begun to heal, and eventually, sleep became more of an escape from the stress and fatigue of trying to save the world from Eternal Darkness.  He missed the way that he had been able to let go and just rest his mind and thoughts, even if the odd nightmare did show up and spoil his peace from time to time.  Now, there was no release from the thoughts and fears and conflicting emotions swirling around inside of his head.

Once, he had tried to lie down, close his eyes, and just try to drift off.  It hadn’t worked, and he’d spent the entire night tossing and turning endlessly, and by the time he sensed dawn slithering its burning tendrils through the opening of the cave, he was ready to slam his head through a wall.

He’d also tried talking to his friends about it.  

Claire was sympathetic, but it was clear that she didn’t understand his dilemma.  To her, an over-achiever who seemed to never have enough time to get everything she needed done, not having to sleep sounded like a dream come true.

Blinky frowned and began to wax philosophical about sleep being an abstract construct, and how it has often been believed to be a gateway between realities, and then got distracted by quoting the famous soliloquy from Hamlet (“to sleep, perchance, to dream”).

He had hoped that he’d have better luck with Nomura, especially since talking to her had largely been what had gotten him through the trauma of the Darklands (and since she was a changeling and still needed a bit of sleep herself).  She listened to his complaints, a slight frown on her face, green eyes studying him seriously.  After he’d finished speaking, she’d contemplated his words, and Jim was sure she was about to say something wise or even fractionally helpful.  Instead, she just growled, “I don’t get it.”

Tonight was worse than most.  It had been a rough day, physically taxing, and his mind kept whirling in so many directions he felt as if he were being pulled apart.  He missed his mom.  He missed his bed and his old life and being able to feel the sun on his skin, and he was tired of seeing the unfamiliar, trollish face blink back at him every time he saw his reflection.  He missed hanging out with Toby and Arrrggghh, missed eating fast food and cooking and even going to school.  

And he was forced to trudge, wide-awake, through it all, with no rest from his thoughts, and it made him angry, and pulled at the aching hole that had been festering in his chest since the moment he’d become a troll.

***

Another sleepless night.

This one was the worst yet, though, because somehow - Jim’s mind was even now trying to come to terms with what all had happened - he was human again, after being mortally wounded, frozen in time (which didn’t count as sleep because he had just stopped while encased in the crystal), turned into a full troll, had his mind taken over, and turned to stone.  No one could explain exactly how it happened, not Blinky, not Douxie, the latter of whom, to be fair, had been in no shape to really offer his coherent thoughts on the matter after his fall from the clouds.

But did it matter?  In the end, here he was, Jim Lake, Jr. once more.  Fully human, with a few new scars to add to his collection.  He could go outside in the sunlight and fit through doors.  He was still reeling from the loss of his amulet - Blinky said he was in a state of shock and that it would hit him soon - but he had gotten to hug his mom with his own arms again.  

And now, here he was, back in his own bed, exactly as he had yearned to be so much over the past few months. Jim's whole house was asleep, Toby and Claire were back home, probably asleep right now, too, and Douxie should be passed out from the muscle relaxers Jim’s mom had prescribed him.

Everyone was sleeping.  Jim had been dreaming of sleeping for weeks.  Now that he had the ability to sleep once more, even though his eyes burned in exhaustion, he found that sleep evaded him just as it had done when he was a troll.  

It wasn’t that he had a lot on his mind.  He did, but that wasn’t why he couldn’t sleep.  He knew what sleeplessness from a cluttered mind felt like, and this wasn’t it.  It was like his body had physically forgotten how to fall asleep.  Perhaps it had.  If so, he was in trouble, because human-Jim needed sleep to survive.

He couldn't get comfortable, no matter how many times he changed position.  His body ached with the pains of battle, and the bed was too soft after months spent sleeping on rock.  Every little noise - a car passing outside, a distant police siren, the creak of wind through trees - grated on his nerves like someone was dragging fingernails across a chalkboard.  Time slunk by, eluding him as much as sleep - at times he was sure it had stopped.  Every time he glanced at the clock, it was as if no time at all had passed since he last checked.

By five in the morning, he admitted defeat and heaved his weary body out of bed, all but dragging himself into the shower and standing under the hot water long enough for the bathroom to fill with steam before he started to wash.  He felt physically ill from exhaustion, and his head pounded in time with his heart.  He’d hoped the shower would wake him up, or put him to sleep - he just wanted out of this limbo.  

It did neither, and he left home without eating breakfast, too nauseated to consider eating anything even though human food was one of the things he’d missed out on as a troll.  He got on his Vespa and drove off, not knowing where he was going, barely even caring.

***

He ended up at the overlook, the place where he’d first danced with Claire, and where she’d taken him for a picnic while stuck in the past.  He remembered how it had felt to know he was going to die as soon as he returned to his own time, and how hard it had been to keep that from Claire, whose bright brown eyes had gleamed a future he’d been sure he’d never see.

He flopped down on the dewy grass and savored the feel of the first rays of sun on his face as dawn broke through the night.  He knew his clothes would be damp and grass-stained when he got up.  

He watched the sun rise over Arcadia, and for the first time since his return home, since he’d become human again, he felt a sliver of peace.

Still, he did not sleep.

***

This is how Claire found him at half past nine.  Jim had left a note for his mom, telling her he’d gone out for a ride to clear his head, but he’d forgotten to text Claire to let her know.  His phone was still at home on the bathroom sink, where he’d forgotten it.

Claire had known exactly where he was, though, and he saw the concern in her eyes from the moment she stepped out of her Shadow portal.  “Jim, your mom was worried about you,” she said matter-of-factly.  She moved over to his side and sat down.

“I told her I went out.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t say where or why, and you left your phone.  Here.”  He took the device she offered him and slowly, painfully propped himself up on his elbows.  She studied his face with her lips pressed together in worry.  “You look awful.”

Jim chuckled.  “Yeah, I don’t feel so hot, either.”

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

Jim laughed again, this time hollowly.  “Not a wink.”  He scrubbed the back of his hand across his eyes.  They felt gritty and prickled like he’d just finished chopping a particularly potent onion.  “I don’t get it,” he went on in frustration.  “I went without sleep for weeks, and I thought I’d never get a proper night’s rest again.  But then - whatever it was - happened, and I’m me again, and I still can’t fall asleep.”  A horrible thought occurred to him.  “What if being a troll broke something inside of me?  What if I never sleep again?”  He could hear his voice rising in speed and pitch.  “How long can a human go without sleep?”

Claire took one of his hands in one of hers.  With her other hand, she cupped the side of his face.  He leaned into the touch.  “Don’t worry, Jim,” she reassured him.  “You’ve just been through a lot.  Your entire physiology’s reworked itself so many times that the rest of you is probably still trying to catch up.  Plus, you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

“Yeah,” he agreed glumly.  He yawned.  

“You know,” Claire said suddenly, tone brightening.  “Maybe you haven’t been able to sleep because you don’t feel safe yet.  After all, you’ve been through so much lately.  As a troll, maybe you forgot that humans need to feel safe before they can fall asleep.”

Jim quirked an eyebrow at her.  “You seemed to have no trouble falling asleep throughout our travels,” he commented.  “In caves and gorges and once in an abandoned shipping container.  You couldn’t have felt safe in any of those places, away from home and lying on the hard ground.”

Claire shook her head as if marveling at how dense he was.  “There was never a night that I didn’t feel safe, Jim.”

Jim blinked.  He was so tired.  “Oh yeah,” he realized.  “There were tons of trolls guarding you.”

“No, dummy,” Claire sighed, smoothing a stray lock of hair off of his forehead.  “I felt safe because I was with you.”

“Oh,” said Jim blankly.  Then realization dawned.  “I feel safe with you, too.”

“Hold that thought.”  She smiled warmly at him, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and rose to her feet.  “I brought something I think you’ll like.  Just a sec.”  She hurried back to her bike, and he heard her tug something out of the front basket.  She returned with a purple and pink checked picnic blanket and together they spread it on the grass and laughed as the wind almost blew it away, off the overlook.  They plopped down on it, side by side, in a desperate attempt to keep it from escaping.

***

Two hours later, Toby came looking for his friends and found them on the grassy knoll overlooking Arcadia.  They were lying on a blanket underneath a blue, cloud-specked sky with the noon sun keeping watch over them.  They were curled up close to one another, wrapped in each other’s arms, fast asleep.  

Toby smiled and let them rest.

[myhauntedsalem]

23 Parents Describe Their Kids’ Creepy Imaginary Friends

1. He doesn’t have a face

“My son from the age of three always tells me about the ‘creeper man’ who lives in my mom and dad’s bedroom. He brings it up after he visits them. I made the mistake once of asking what he looks like. My son said ‘Oh, he doesn’t have a face.’”

2. “You’ll get used to killing”

“A parent of one of my students told us in a meeting that she was concerned because her son (7 years old) talked about an invisible ghost who would talk to him and play with him in his room. He said the ghost was called The Captain and was an old white guy with a beard. The kid would tell his mom that The Captain told him when he grows up his job will be to kill people, and The Captain would tell him who needed to be killed. The kid would cry and say he doesn’t want to kill when he grows up, but The Captain tells him he doesn’t have a choice and he’ll get used to killing after a while.”

3. Little girl ghost

“When my daughter was three she had an imaginary friend named Kelly who lived in her closet. Kelly sat in a little rocking chair while she slept, played with her, etc. Typical imaginary friend shit. Anyway, fast forward two years later, the wife and I are watching the new Amityville Horror (the one with Ryan Renolds) and our daughter walks out right when the dead girl goes all black eyed. Far from being disturbed she said ‘That looks like Kelly.’ ‘Kelly who?’ we say. ‘You know the dead girl that lived in my closet.’”

4. Bad rabbit

“My cousin, when she was 5, and I was 17, had a stuffed rabbit that she talked to and carried everywhere. One day she was asleep on the couch while I was watching her, and she woke up and started yelling at her rabbit for no reason. One minute she was knocked out, the next, she’s awake, glaring at her rabbit, yelling, ‘No! You can’t do that! That’s bad! Don’t do it!’ I asked her what was wrong, tried to get her to stop, but she wouldn’t listen. I finally just took the rabbit up to her room, and when I came back down she was asleep on the couch again. Fuck whatever that rabbit was planning on doing.”

5. Roger won’t be around anymore…

“My little brother’s imaginary friend, Roger, lived under our coffee table. Roger had a wife and nine kids. Roger and his family lived peacefully alongside us for three years. One day, my little brother announced that Roger wouldn’t be around anymore, since he shot and killed him and his whole family. I don’t know if he remembers any of this, but his genuine lack of remorse was very disturbing.”

6. A boy in the tree

“My folks’ farm surrounds a cemetery, and my dad and my niece were walking down there. My niece (4) looks up and says, ‘What’s that boy doing up in that tree?’ There was no boy, but she insisted there was and could describe him.”

7. The bunny man

“When I was 16, I babysat twins who were in the third grade at the time. They always spoke of a man in an Easter Bunny costume, and they were terrified of him. One day I was babysitting, and one twin was in the shower. His brother and I were sitting downstairs watching television when all of the sudden, he said, ‘You need to go check on Matt.’ Seconds later, Matt yelled, ‘He’s in here!!! He’s in here!!!’ I ran upstairs, and I had to check every room before he would calm down. I’m not sure which part of the experience freaked me out the most.”

8. Poor Shaggy

When my mom was younger she had an imaginary friend named Shaggy. When she was finished with Shaggy, she ‘chopped him up and put him in the fridge.’”

9. “Smash Daddy’s head”

“When my brother was just learning how to talk he grabbed one of those small toy hammers and crawled onto the sofa where my dad was sleeping. He then leant in close and whispered one of his first sentences… ‘Smash daddy’s head’ right into his ear.”

10. Dark angels

When my brother was little he acted like he had angels talking to him every second. One day my mom overheard him say, ‘I can’t kill him! He’s my only dad!’”

11. “That’s the man”

“My daughter used to tell me about a man who came into her room every night and put the sign of the cross on her forehead. I thought it was just a dream. Then my mother-in-law sent over some family photos. My daughter looked right at the picture of my husband’s father (who has been dead for 16 years) and said ‘That’s the man who comes into my room at night!’ My husband later told me his father would always do the sign of the cross on his forehead when he was young.”

12. Message from beyond

“My wife and I overheard my two-year-old daughter on the baby monitor wake up on Saturday morning and say, ‘What? OK I’ll tell her.’ She then got up, came into our bedroom, and told my wife, ‘Mary says you’re doing a good job.’ Mary was her grandmother that she was extremely close to that passed away.”

13. I called him Spooky Guy

“As a kid, I said that my imaginary friend was a ghost. I called him Spooky Guy and said he died in the garage of the house on the hill behind ours. I even came up with his death. He was a 16 year old who got in a car crash and walked to that house to ask to use their phone (died in the 70’s). The person lived there grabbed him and sexually abused him there and killed him. He was my imaginary friend as far back as I can remember. This scared my mom so much that she tried to look up records to see if that happened and got me a therapist.”

14. Icy wants me to tell you it will be tonight

“In high school one of my best friends had a little sister who was five or six years old. One day we stopped by his place, completely high, because he needed to get his Magic cards. While waiting for him to come downstairs his sister came up to me and said, ‘Icy told me to ask you if you know when you’re going to die.’”

I laughed nervously: morbid question, right? But I knew all about Icy, her imaginary friend. I even helped her draw a picture of him once. So I played along and said, ‘No, of course not! No one knows that. Hopefully when I’m very old.’

The girl shook her head sadly and said, ‘No, Icy wants me to tell you it’ll be tonight.’ And with that, she just walked away.”

15. It is the punishment

“I was seventeen and babysitting a friend of the family’s six-year-old boy. He’d been in bed a couple of hours and I just peeked in to check on him. He wasn’t in the bed and when I opened the door, I saw he was standing in the corner, facing the wall. creepiest fucking thing ever. I asked him what he was doing and all he did was turn around, smile, and put his finger to his lips as if to say ‘shhh.’ I asked him again what he was doing and all he says is, ‘Leave us. It is the punishment.’”

16. Keep kicking

“My grandfather had a camp on Lake Dering in New Hampshire when I was a kid. One day when I was 6 or so, I fell off of the dock and into the water. I couldn’t swim. While under, I distinctly remember seeing a little girl down there who told me to look up towards the sun and just keep kicking and I’d be fine. I swam to the surface just in time for my grandfather to swoop me up and pull me back on the dock.”

17. Nope

“When my boy was 4, his imaginary friend would sit in the corner of the room when you switched off the lights and light the room with red glowing eyes.”

18. They were both dead

“Kid I used to babysit had imaginary friends. They were dead. One had no head. One was an old lady. They were both bloody. The one with no head had insides sticking out of his neck.

I didn’t ask him questions about them because fuck that.”

19. Tracy

“When my niece was about 4 she had an imaginary friend, which I don’t remember the name of. She would blame things she did on this imaginary friend but also talked about how this friend would watch Scooby Doo with her. One day I thought, ‘Why don’t I find out more about this friend?’ So I asked her to tell me about her friend. And she said, ‘She’s a she and she’s dead.’ And I said, ‘Does she have a job?’ And she said, ‘She does what my daddy does!’ Which is that her imaginary friend was a cop. So then I said, ‘Where is your imaginary friend a police woman at?’ And she said, ‘Right next I to where my daddy is a policeman.’ But then she said, ‘I met her when I was in my mummy’s belly. She touched it when I was inside.’

A few months before my niece was born my cousin Tracy had died. She was hit by a train. She loved watching Scooby Doo and had a ton of memorabilia. She was also a cop. She was a cop in the town that is right next to the one my brother-in-law is a cop in, my niece’s ‘daddy.’ My niece’s imaginary friend was my dead cousin. There is no other way she could have known all that at the age of 4.”

20. “That’s why I don’t like water now”

“When my kid was 4, we were watching a documentary on the Titanic. The scene was a picture of the schematics of the boiler room and the camera panned from left to right over the plans. He pointed at the TV and said, ‘That’s wrong. The boilers were on the other side. And I was right here.’ And he pointed to a small space in the boiler room. ‘That’s where I was. And that’s why I don’t like water now.’”

21. Emily

“When my sister was probably about 6 or 7, she had an imaginary friend named Emily. She told us Emily lived in her closet, wore an old black dress, and had long dark hair and she was the same age as my sister. My sister played with Emily constantly. My parents started noticing my sister acting weird. Just sitting in the middle of her room whispering to Emily quite a bit and acting a lot more distant towards them. I remember a very specific day, my brother was walking by her room and my sister was sitting in the middle of her room….but she turned around and hissed at him. He was scared shitless. He told me it didn’t even look like my sister. My parents ran up to her room and I could hear my sister just screaming and screaming.”

“I have no idea what happened in that room but I ran to the bottom of my stairs and the screaming stopped, I saw my parents holding my sister crying their eyes out, she was sobbing as well. I’ve asked her about it today. She’s 24 now. She told me that Emily used to tell her to do horrible things to herself. She actually used to wake up on the roof and not remember how she got there. I’m not kidding. Apparently Emily absolutely hated my parents so she turned my sister against them. She hates talking about it so I never brought up that specific night. This all happened at my old house. When we moved into a different house, Emily was gone. I’m not making any of this up. My sisters little friend was a really big deal to my family and messed things up for a long time. I’m just relieved we left that house.”

22. She floated above his bed at night

“When my younger brother was around 4, he had an imaginary friend named Victoria Meadowbrooke. He told us that she was the prettiest girl ever and she floated above his bed a night.”

23. “The Evil is coming”

“When my older daughter was two or three, she used to have a couple of imaginary friends, Dodo and DeeDee. They were typical imaginary friends. She would talk to them and play with them, and tell me about their lives.

Then one day, when she was about three, she was talking on her play phone when I walked into the room. She hung up her phone and said to me (with a completely flat voice and deadpan expression): ‘The Evil is coming.’”

[advena87]

Kaer Morhen shenanigans (but mostly Lambert’s) part 8

Here is: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10 and Daily Lambert

also Keira & Lambert’s love story, Aiden & Lambert’s love story and… this.

.

Eskel: Can I keep this goat?

Vesemir: No.

Eskel: Why not? She’s so cute, I named her Lil’Bleater.

Berengar: Because she’ll hurt and annoy everyone.

Vesemir: And she will destroy everything.

Eskel: But you basically just described Lambert!

Geralt: He has a point. If we can keep Lambert we might as well keep the goat. She can't be worse than him.

Vesemir: It's hard to argue with this logic…

***

*brekfast*

Lambert: Give me a vodka on the rocks. 

Geralt: Lambert, it’s 7 in the morning. 

Lambert: And a piece of toast. 

 *a moment later*

Geralt: Eskel, we just ate. Why are you making pancakes?

Eskel: They’re for Lil’Bleater.

Berengar: Why are you making pancakes for goat?

Eskel: She doesn't know how.

***

Lambert: Um, guys?

Berengar: What now?

Lambert: Can animal breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on?

Berengar:

Geralt:

Eskel:

Eskel: Where’s Lil’Bleater?!

*a moment later*

Berengar: *leaning against a wall with Geralt while they watch Eskel try to catch Lambert *

Berengar: Amazing.

Geralt: This is the worst chase I’ve ever seen in my life. How has Eskel still not caught him?

Berengar: Lambert is pretty fast, and if he caught him, he would probably kill him. Tbh I don’t think Eskel really wants to touch him. You never know where he’s been.

Lambert: Eskel, calm down! This goat was stinking, someone had finally wash her!

Eskel: YOU CAN RUN BUT ILL STILL BE IN YOUR NIGHTMARES!

***

Vesemir: I can’t believe how drunk you are!

Lambert: I am not drunk.

Vesemir: Yes you are!

Lambert: I am not!

Vesemir: Can you tell the time?

Lambert: Yes *turns to point at clock* I am not drunk!

Vesemir, pointing out of a window: Lambert, do you see that over there? Running between the trees?

Lambert, confused: No, I don't. What is it?

Vesemir, now looking directly at Lambert: It's my patience for your stupid drunk shit, running away from me again!

***

Berengar: Wow, I really like this new, abstract, surrealist, post-modern painting of this depressive and tormented person.

Lambert: Dude, that’s a mirror.

***

Berengar: The fact that I exist literally pisses me off sometimes.

***

Vesemir: What are the signs of teenage depression?

Geralt: Why are you asking?

Vesemir: Berengar was doing laundry earlier and he dropped a sock and I heard him say “why has the god forsaken me”.

***

Vesemir: Where's Berengar? I've been looking for him all day.

Eskel: He’s been in the shower.

Vesemir: All day?

Eskel: Pretty much. He takes really long showers when he gets depressed.

Vesemir: Well, when do you think he’s going to come out?

Eskel: I don't know. He took a chair in there.

*a moment later*

Vesemir and Eskel: *knocks on bathroom door*

Berengar: Who is it?

Eskel: It's us, we just wanna talk.

Berengar: How many of you are there?

Vesemir: Two.

Berengar: Then talk to each other.

***

Vesemir, calling Lambert: Hello.

Lambert: What?

Vesemir: Lambert, you should identify yourself when you answer the phone.

Lambert: Sorry.

Lambert: *thick sarcasm* The Kaer Morhen keep, major disappointment speaking.

Lambert: Better?

Vesemir: *sighs in defeat*

***

Lambert: Hey guys- Why are you all standing on table? Are you playing a game?

Geralt: Yeah, we’re playing “we saw a young arachnomorph in the castle and don’t know where the fuck it went”.

Lambert: *scrambles onto table*

***

Lambert: I’ll think of a plan, I’m the best at plans.

Eskel: No. You’re not.

Lambert: I am! Name one bad plan I’ve come up with.

Eskel: Blowing up the rock troll in the castle tower.

Berengar: Starting a bar brawl because you forgot your wallet.

Geralt: Ritualistically sacrificing Eskel.

Eskel: Putting Lil’Bleater into the washing machine.

Geralt: Throwing bombs inside the castle.

Berengar: Take fisstech and go hunting for a Water Hag in brothel.

Geralt: Ooh, so that's why they kicked you out of there!

Lambert: …

***

Vesemir: I'm disappointed

Lambert: And I'm tired of hearing this shit. You're disappointed? Let's think about it: Brengar has depression and suicidal thoughts, I have drinking problem and anger issues, Eskel's best friend is a goat, and Geralt is a slut.

Geralt: Wait, what?

Lambert: And tell me Vesemir, whose fault is that?

Vesemir: It's not your job to question my parenting methods.

Lambert: Why not? I find some of your methods highly questionable.

Geralt: I'm not a slut!

***

Geralt: Ok Lambert, we need you to distract the guards.

Lambert: Right.

Berengar: What are you gonna do?

Lambert: I'm gonna kill them. That ought to distract 'em.

Geralt: I said distract them, not cut them down!

Lambert: There is just no pleasing you sometimes.

Gerlat: Lambert!

Lambert: FINE. I'll take care of it. No killing, I promise.

*Lambert leaves*

Geralt: What do you think Lambert will do for a distraction?

Eskel: He’ll probably, like, make a noise or throw a rock. That’s what I would do.

*Building explodes and all the horses fled*

Berengar: ...or he could do that.

Geralt: …

Geralt: Fuck. It’s time for Plan B.

Berengar: We have a Plan B?

Geralt: No, but it’s time for one.

*meanwhile in another part of town, Vesemir on a date with countess Mignole*

Vesemir, to Mignole: Hah, look at those idiots getting chased by guards.

Vesemir: Wait.

Eskel, Geralt, Lambert & Berengar: *yelling in the distance*

Vesemir: SHIT- THOSE ARE MY IDIOTS

 *later*

Vesemir: I can’t come today, sorry.

Countess Mignole: Why not?

Vesemir: Geralt, Eskel, Lambert and Berengar are all in the hospital.

Countess Mignole: Oh my, what happened?

Vesemir: Varying degrees of idiocy.

***

Eskel: With all due respect Geralt, have you lost your fucking mind?

Geralt: That's with all due respect? And since when you use the fuck word?

Eskel: You took advice from Lambert?!

Berengar: It’s called hitting rock bottom, Eskel.

Geralt: It's called following Vesemir's directions. He always said: „In the unlikely event that you encounter something that is not covered here, find a man named Lambert of Kaer Morhen, get his advice, and then do the opposite.”

Eskel: But you did exactly what Lambert told you!

Geralt: Because it was good advice.

***

Vesemir: Eskel wants to become a witcher when he grows up to kill monsters and help people in need. My other son, Lambert, wants to be a porcupine so he can stab people with his butt.

***

Vesemir, before the young witchers set off on their first independent journey: Eskel, you should look after Lambert.

Eskel: What do you mean? He's a witcher now.

Vesemir: That doesn’t mean he actually knows what he’s doing.

*later on the path during dinner*

Lambert: Okay, guys, who wanted the macaroni and bees?

Eskel: ...

Gerlat: You mean cheese?

Lambert, struggling to keep the bowl covered: That does make more sense, actually.

Eskel: I'm starting to understand what Vesemir meant.

***

Lambert: Your existence is confusing.

Vesemir: How so?

Lambert: Your presence is so fucking annoying, but the thought of anything bad happening to you upsets me.

Berengar: It's called Stockholm syndrome.

Lambert: Ah yes, another issue on my long, long list.

Berengar: I think you may also have PTSD.

Lambert: Yeah I have PTSD.

Lambert: Proficient Talent for Sucking D-

Vesemir: WE ALSO need to talk about your use of humor as a coping mechanism.

***

Vesemir: Everyone always asks me how I handle running the witcher school.

Vesemir: The truth is, I don’t. I have no control over them whatsoever. This morning, Geralt called my name, and when I showed up to see what was going on, Lambert shot me in the throat with a slingshot.

.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Put Me In a Movie

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n-I just keep making things worse and worse for them. Are people even still reading this?)

Summary Prologue  1   2   3  4  5  6 7  8  9  10  11  12  13  14

Warnings- Angst, just buckets of angst

Chapter 15- Insult to Injury

If she was there, then he'd fix things. If not, it was over.

That was the agreement that Keanu had made with himself. He wasn't even sure if the disrepair he'd caused could be fixed, but he knew he had to try. Ever since Y/n had left him in a cold, dim alley way, drenched in coke and rum, Keanu had been a mess. It hurt, way more that he had expected to. His chest felt tight and thick emotion made it burn, his vision went blurry and Keanu, from the minute Y/n had slammed the door on the shambles of their relationship, or whatever it was, felt the walls crumbling as they closed in. Even then, he was still confused on what he’d felt for her; lust, infatuation? Whatever it was, it had driven Keanu to bargain with himself; he’d give her the rest of the night to cool off, and first thing the next morning, he’d find his way to Y/n’s room, and if she was still there, then he’d accept it as fate and plead with her to let him make things right, but if she was gone, then he’d give up, for good.

So, there he was, at seven in the morning, not knowing what he’d say to make Y/n change her mind, but knowing that there was very little off limits. For a second, before he lifted his shaking fist, Keanu wondered how she was taking it, if she was still as upset as she was the previous night or if her rage had settled. Had she slept or laid wide awake in the mess of sheets like he had? Did she even resign to her bed, the one they’d grown used to sharing, like a real couple. They’d done so much like a real couple. She’d loved him, as if they were a real couple, and what had Keanu given her in return? Agony. 

Did he even love her?

As fast as he’d asked himself the question, Keanu buried it, stuffing somewhere deep and far, so he wouldn’t have to think about it. If it hurt that bad enough without loving her, what would it feel like if he did? “Fuck,” he eventually sighed, realizing that he was thinking over, under and around the issue, and still hadn’t done what he’d taken the trek down the hall for. Just knock.

He was about to, raising it fist to give the creme oak a heavy tap, only stopping when a voice interrupted him as it came from the elevator, “Mr. Reeves?” It was Ester, the middle aged housekeeper he’d bribed to let him to Y/n’s room a few months ago. That  morning felt so far gone, like the memories belonged to someone else; just as scared though impressively braver. The man he’d been then was almost in complete control of how he felt. But the man in front of Y/n’s door? He was jaded, a little broken, and very confused.

“Ester,” Keanu tried to summon up a smile, knowing his hollowed eyes and slightly disheveled form would sell him out whether he liked it or not, “How are you?”

“Good,” she nodded, wheeling her cart up the carpeted hall, cleaning products neatly mounted to the top and various items sticking out the bottom shelf, “Are you looking for Miss Y/l/n?”

“Uh, yeah,” he huffed nervously, rocking back and forth of the balls of his feet, anxiously stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets, “Do you know if she’d in?”

A worried expression pitched at the woman’s features, tugging at her wrinkles and dimming her eyes, “She checked out this morning, I saw her with her bags at the front desk. She looked very upset,” the matronly woman frowned deeper, debating on whether or not she should say more, “Did something happen between you two? Little lovers spat? Because usually she’d be up to chatting if we met around the hotel, but this morning she was just in a hurry, and I’m pretty sure the poor dear was crying.”

Did everyone know?

“I…..” Keanu stumbled on his words, shuffling his feet and avoiding Ester’s gaze, which wasn’t hard considering she was very small, “It’s complicated, I don’t think you could even call us lovers anymore,” he chuckled dryly, trying desperately to ignore the sting that accompanied the admission, “That’s probably why she left,” that was definitely why she left, “She doesn’t want to see me.”

“Can I give you some advice?” Ester spoke up, moving around the cart, placing a warm hand on his arm, “I see the way you look at her, the way she looks at you, and that kind of love, it’s rare. And I know I don’t know what happened, but I do know that you love her, so don’t some little thing get in the way of what you two have.”

“It’s not that simple,” Keanu objected, already ready to give up, even if everything in him wanted him to try harder. He wanted it so badly, that he hadn’t even realized that what Ester had said, about him loving Y/n. “I said some things, done things, I don’t think it's as little as you’re thinking it is.”

At that, Ester smiled knowingly, shaking her head, before turning to return to the helm of her cleaning cart, “In the scheme of things, where real love is involved, isn’t everything small? And I know this isn’t one of your movies, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still have a happy ending.”

Taking her words to heart, Keanu barely nodded and thanked Ester, casting his head down as  he walked back to his room, now even deeper in thought. It hadn’t occurred to him before. The fact that he might love Y/n. Well, it had, but he’d dismissed it. What was love anyway? Hearts and flowers? Dinner together after work or extravagant presents for every occasion? Maybe it was marriage and kids, the nine yards with the white picket fence and everything. Keanu used to want that, but after a while, as he’d grown older, he’d convinced himself that his time had passed. That a wife and a baby or two wasn’t in the cards for him.

Perhaps, he thought, finally reaching his room, pushing the door closed behind him before slumping into the nearest chair, the one in the foyer near his packed bags, perhaps, love was the little things. That made more sense when he looked at what he and Y/n had shared. It could have been in the way he liked having his head on her chest, or how much he enjoyed the way she’d scoot on top of him in the wee hours of the morning. The way her laugh was like a melody, played just for him and the way holding Y/n’s hand made him feel safe and appreciated. Maybe it was how they’d learnt each other’s coffee orders by heart and how he’d always offer her the first spoon of his ice cream and how she always ordered his favorite dessert when they were splitting one after dinner. Love was in the little things. The things Keanu had spent so long searching for before deciding to give up one day. He’d always wanted someone who he could be himself around, someone who wouldn’t ever get bored of him and who made him feel like he belonged.

Someone like Y/n.

And was when it hit him. As much as he denied it, he loved her.

The evening sun cast a cloudy, yellow glow, filtering through the glass wall facing the city, on Y/n’s large living room. Late noon into early evening was always one of Y/n’s favorite times to spend there, she adored the way the light would bounce of some surfaces, casting long shadows on others, as the slight, though ever present Los Angeles warmth contrasted the coolness of her A/c perfectly. It was usually around that time when she’d resign to the sofa with a book or to watch television, sometimes falling asleep until it was past dark. But that day, seventy two hours after landing at LAX and having her dad drive her home, Y/n just could not focus. Not on the pages bound in a hard cover splayed on her lap, not on her favorite soap playing on T.V and she couldn’t even fall asleep. 

Everything just hurt so much. 

From the minute she walked into the apartment, the first thing that Y/n could remember was the short time she’d spent there with Keanu. And then, with those memories, came a slew of others. He’d done so much, and though Y/n usually preferred to reserve herself, having seen what a mess her parents made, not wanting to fall in love until she was absolutely ready, she had. It had happened slowly and suddenly, paces changing like seasons, Keanu’s moods keeping her on her toes and her own insecurities getting in the way of letting her fully enjoy their time together. 

Sitting on the sofa that evening, Y/n’s gaze fell from the television, falling tears creating little darkened spots and making the ink run on the pages of her most recent read. After a hitched breath, soft, shuddering sobs wracked her body and there was no amount of deep breaths that could remedy the physical ache that had started in her chest and spread through her body as she reluctantly remembered everything they’d shared in just a few months;

Slow dancing with her in a barely empty bar.

Sitting with her on the beach

Holding her hand.

Pretending he wanted to protect her

Looking at her like she was all that mattered.

It was his fault really. He’d made her love him, and then he’d taken that away. 

How could he? In the end, Keanu had barely batted a lash, even after Y/n had spun out and tossed a drink at him, insulted him. He’d just taken it, made her feel like she was the fool for expecting more. And just like that, right there and then, she sat thinking back on how it had gone down, for probably the millionth time since it happened

“You’re not my girlfriend.”

“.....this isn’t working for me.”

Maybe it wasn’t his fault, maybe it was hers for trusting him in the first place, after he’d given her so many reasons not to. Maybe- a knocking on the front door broke Y/n’s thoughts. For a split second, she considered ignoring it, hoping whoever it was would give up quickly and just leave, but soon after, they were knocking again. “Coming!” With a heavy sigh, Y/n tossed her book to the other side of the sofa, trudging barefoot to the door, as she rubbed the tears away. Pulling one side of the door open, Y/n gasped at the person before her, ready to slam the door in his face.

Though, Keanu was faster, and just as she moved to push the door closed, he firmly held it back, “Y/n,” he pleaded, sounding softer than he ever had. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair a mess, really, he looked as bad as she felt, “Please, I just want to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Y/n actively avoided his gaze, shoving the door, though, Keanu was stronger, able to keep her from shutting him out completely.

“Then just listen, please,” even if he could see her trying to not meet his eyes, her anger still looming just beneath the exterior, Keanu also knew that he could get through to her, he just had to work for it, “I have a lot that I want to say to you. Can I please come in?”

“No,” every time she denied him, the lump in her throat grew and her eyes stung more and Y/n knew that all it would take was one look at his face to have her breaking down, “You need to leave.”

“I’m not,” desperate, Keanu longed to just squeeze himself through the space between the door and its frame, anything that would make her listen, just so she’d change her mind, “You close this door, then I’m staying right here. I’m not leaving, I’ll sit out here if I have to, but I’m not leaving.”

Exasperated, Y/n reluctantly relented and though a minute part of her was curious, it was against her better judgement when she finally let him in, not letting them get past the kitchen. Leaning against the counter and folding her arms across her chest, “I don’t know what you could possibly say that will change anything. Cause as far as I’m concerned, you said everything that you wanted back in Chicago,” there was venom in her tone and Y/n sniffled, anger and sorrow mixing like gasoline and an open flame.

“What I said that night,” Keanu blew an audible breath, knowing he deserved every shot she fired, “It was stupid and selfish. I shouldn’t have said any of it. But-”

“But you did,” chucking dryly, her eyes shone, tears ready to spill over on already reddened, stained cheeks, “You said it without even having to think about it. You essentially said that I was nothing more than a fling to you. There were so many signs that you didn't care the way I did, feel for me what I feel for you," a tired, pained huff broke past her bare lips and tears tangled in her thick, long lashes, "But I trusted you anyway, I kept on hoping you could change, that I could change you, but I'm done now," at the very last word, her voice dropped breaking the way her heart had.

Temporarily forgetting their current state of affairs, or possibly hoping some salvaged affection would would do some good for them, Keanu stepped forward, going to reach out, “Baby-” 

“Don’t,” Y/n choked out a warning, stepping out of his reach, “Don’t fucking call me baby! Like you fucking care!” Running anxious hands through her loose tresses, Y/n hoped they’d somehow pull back the tears that were already falling, “Don’t you see what you've done to me?” Her face was blotchy and red, and for once, for the first time in a goddamned long time,  Y/n wasn’t thinking of how great the good was, instead, all she could think of how absolutely terrible the bad was. How much Keanu hurt her after she’d let her heart bleed for him, after he’d called her ‘baby’ nearly a hundred times and made her believe that he could feel something more than lust for her. All she could think of, as they stood in her apartment, the evening bringing a solemn haze to the atmosphere, was how selfishly cruel he’d been in his so called romantic dealings, “You fucked me up you selfish, insensitive son of a bitch!” Her throat burned and Y/n didn’t care if the entire building heard her, “You made me love you, you acted like you cared. But you could never care, you don’t even care about yourself,” she spat bitterly, sniffling, “Cause if you did, you’d know that I was the best thing that’s happened to you in a really long time.”

She was right, and Keanu knew it, and for a second, his lips quivered, with the intention of playing it off the way he usually did. But something stopped him, reminding Keanu that he wrecked more than enough havoc to ruin Y/n for a century and that the purpose of his visit was to fix things, for real that time. To admit and repair. To tell Y/n that she was right and hope that she’d take him back, one last time. “You’re right,” he offered softly, sobering the mood, slumping his shoulders, “But that’s why I’m here, cause I understand now, Y/n it was never about-”

“No,” she objected, “You can’t just-”

“It was never about seeing where things went,” Keanu continued, hoping to combat her words with his own, “You were always the one. I always knew-”

Y/n tried to close her mind off to everything he was saying, everything she’d spent so long yearning to hear, “You can’t do this, not now-”

“It’s always been you, from the minute I met you, I knew,” tears gathered in his eyes as that day at the table read came back to him. How taken aback he’d been by her beauty, how intent he was to meet her in the parking lot to give her his number, praying to every god he believed in that she’d take a chance and call him. He’d fought it, for so long, for nights that he’d spent with her dancing through his dreams and days after their first coffee meeting, spent recalling her innocent touches. He’d never been touched like that, and the more Keanu got to know her, got to love her, he knew that Y/n was everything that he’d ever wanted and so much more. She was it for him. “Y/n, you’ve always been everything and I was just too afraid-”

“Just stop!” She pleaded, knowing that having him break her heart again might be the end of her. That was the thing about Keanu; he was capable of giving so much, but he was also exceptional at taking things away, of hurting her by turning the dagger he’d buried in her chest. “Please-”

“Please,” he ached to reach out, “Just give me one more chance-”

“Please, just leave,” she sobbed, “If you love me, then leave,” her hoarse voice was barely louder than a whisper, though Keanu heard every heartbreaking, gut wrenching syllable of it, “Because I can’t do this anymore.” For a minute, they just stood there, gazes glassy and equally tormented, though, when neither of them budged, Y/n yelled, a sob nearly stifling her plea, “Just get out!”

And in that very moment, Keanu swore that his heart literally broke, the ache in his chest breath stealing. Finally, he felt something minutely reminiscent of what he’d brought her over the past six months or so. He’d been killing her, but really, all he’d done was draw the makings of his own demise, because truthfully, Keanu knew that returning to a life void of Y/n wasn’t one he could thrive in. “Please don’t do this,” he begged, forbidding any dignity he’d reserved, “Please, Y/n I’m begging you to just-”

“Get out!” She screamed, starling them both, pointing at the door, “You’ve already made a fool of me Keanu, don’t stand here and do the same to yourself.”

Nodding, he ran his fingers through his untamed mane, acid on his tongue as he offered compliance, “Okay.”  dragging his lower lip through his teeth, and stuffing one hand into his pocket, turning and heading for Y/n’s front door. Every step felt like a piece of his tired soul being chiseled away, and when he turned the knob, he could swear that the coldness of the metal was trying to freeze his lungs, “I hope you know,” he swallowed thickly, “That I’ll still love you. There’s not going to be anyone else, ever, not after you Y/n. And if you can ever find it in yourself to forgive me, if you ever decide you can still be with me after everything I’ve done, there wouldn’t be any question of how I feel about you. I’ll always be waiting.”

Keanu didn’t wait for a response, he wasn’t anticipating one anyways, and with his words, he left, easing the door closed behind himself. The minute was gone, Y/n fell to her knees, the hardwood cool beneath them. It felt like she was completely and utterly shattered, bits and pieces of her fragile being scattered across the floor, though most of it gone with him. Above everything else, seeing Keanu hurt like that had pained her the most and quicker than ever, the anger left, replaced by the severity of what she’d just done; pushed Keanu out of her life with a finality that Y/n wasn’t sure she could stand. The love she had for him was everything, and though it had ruined her, she’d take those ruins over a barren, listless life without the man she’d always longed to call her own. Her love for Keanu was everything, and without it, she had nothing. 

******

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[sundowncryptid]

My HTTYD 3 Criticisms

This is gonna be a long one so I’m gonna put my criticisms under a read more

Just wanted to make a post listing all of the HTTYD 3 criticisms I have (this isn’t an attack on people who liked the movie, it’s totally valid if you did, I just want to list some stuff that I didn’t like and stuff that, in my opinion, didn’t work in the movie)

- The Light Fury logically shouldn’t have been able to cloak in the first scene when she’s caged up, she would have needed to fly through a plasma blast and there’s no way she did that whilst caged??

- Snotlout hitting on Valka was just really weird and uncomfortable

- There’s no way Grimmel killed all of the Night Furies, he’s just one man with a bunch of Deathgrippers and a crossbow

- The Deathgrippers are portrayed as an ‘evil’ species of dragon, but the dragons are said to be just wild animals?? How can a wild animal be ‘evil’ and have evil intentions if they’re just wild animals? It’s not their fault that their diet consists of other dragons

- The Deathgrippers are also being controlled, drugged and held captive by Grimmel too, just like the Light Fury, but they don’t also deserve to be rescued too??

- If the Light Fury is so scared of humans why did she decide to pick Hiccup up and yeet him?? Surely she would have tried to avoid being seen and especially being touched by them after being caged and drugged by dragon hunters?? If Toothless had looked like he was in danger I could understand her trying to intervene and get rid of Hiccup but she intentionally came towards him unprovoked

- The Light Fury tried to kill Hiccup twice and Toothless didn’t growl once?? (I know she’s scared and I don’t blame her for lashing out at humans after being drugged and caged but I would’ve expected a stronger reaction from Toothless) But in the third date scene the Light Fury steps on a line in his drawing and that’s when he chooses to growl at her

- it feels like all of the other villains in the movie were just dumbed down to make Grimmel look smart

- Grimmel’s Night Fury info contradicts what the franchise has said or shown about Night Furies previously:

1. He said that Night Furies can’t fly for long periods without rest, yet Toothless has one of the biggest wing surface area to body ratios in the franchise and his wings are soaring wings like an eagles, and so he should be able to fly for maybe 4-6 hours straight without rest

2. He said Night Furies can’t survive cold temperatures but Toothless has been living in Berk for 6 years without an issue, and Berk is supposed to be freezing for most of the year according to Hiccup

- New Berk is only accessible by dragon, so how does New Berk trade with other villages? And sail out to catch fish for food? After all of the dragons are gone??

- Night Furies having the ability to cloak is pointless, they’re nocturnal and camouflaged when flying at night so they don’t need to be able to cloak. Idk maybe it could be a leftover adaption that they retained??

- Hiccup is portrayed as ‘naive’ for thinking that Toothless will come back to him

Toothless and Hiccup don’t have a parent-kid relationship. That would suggest that Toothless wants to get away from Hiccup and be more independent, yet he never showed an interest in flying without Hiccup until the Light Fury came along, and that was only because she wouldn’t let Hiccup get near her. If Toothless never showed signs wanting to leave Hiccup or fly on his own in the past then why is Hiccup naive for thinking that he’ll come back?

- Just a small thing but I would’ve liked to see Valka discovering the Hidden World with Hiccup, it would’ve been a nice to see them bonding over the discovery and it could’ve shown how far their mother-son relationship has come in a year

- The Mushroom Forest in the Hidden World must produce spores, and long exposure to mushroom spores causes lung inflammation so surely the dragons living in the Hidden World wouldn’t be able to breathe properly and would get sick from breathing in spores??

- The Light Furies don’t seem to fit with the Hidden World’s bright, saturated colours, their white, pale scales would stand out against the colourful vegetation growing there

- What if a group of Deathgrippers infiltrated the Hidden World? Wouldn’t the Hidden World dragons be trapped and cornered inside?

- Toothless didn’t consider his flock at all when he disappeared with the Light Fury for a day, shouldn’t he have been with them to help protect them just in case, especially since Grimmel just burned down their previous home and may still be tracking them?

- How can Toothless be the king of the hidden world, a place he only discovered hours ago, and command it? Wouldn’t the dragons there already have an alpha dragon??

- It would’ve been nice to have a moment in the Hidden World where Toothless seems homesick and misses Hiccup, just to know he at least still cares about him and hasn’t forgotten

- When the Light Fury comes back to New Berk and smells Grimmel she flies towards him instead of the opposite way??

- Toothless sacrifices his entire flock (including hatchlings) and lets them be caged up by the dragon hunters to save a girl he only met 3 days ago (not saying he shouldn’t care about the Light Fury but he should probably care a lot more about the well-being of the flock he’s been in charge of and has known for a year)

- The Light Fury is somehow aware enough in her drugged state to be able to fly straight with Grimmel on her back in the final chase scene (same point applies to the Deathgrippers throughout the entire movie now that I think about it)

- The Deathgrippers that were still attached to Grimmel’s airship as it crashed into the water weren’t at least attempted to be rescued and were left to drown

- The Deathgrippers shouldn’t have been able to catch up to two of the fastest dragons species in the franchise in the final chase scene

- Coming to the conclusion of the dragons leaving felt rushed and out of the blue

- The message at the end of this film totally contradicts the other two films; the first movie was based around the fact that dragons aren’t the wild, savage beasts that they are thought to be, but beings capable of human-like intelligence and emotion. HTTYD 3 contradicts this by saying the dragons are just wild animals and they can’t help following and listening to instinct.

HTTYD 2’s end message was even though there are bad people out there, we will still fight for what’s right, even if we have to go up against armies and armadas, we will change the world bit by bit so that people and dragons can live together in peace.

HTTYD 3 scraps that message and instead of fighting for the dragons and changing the world for the better, the dragons are just sent away to hide in a hole in the ocean indefinitely and are just left to hope that someone picks up where Berk left off. They beat the warlords pretty easily, Grimmel is gone and the Light Fury has started coming around to Hiccup so why do the dragons have to go all of a sudden?? New Berk isn’t accessible by bad guys (unless they have control of a dragon) and Berk has an entire flock of dragons on their side controlled by a Night Fury so their island is easily defendable.

They are in one of the best positions to continue rescuing, saving and protecting dragons yet that’s when they choose to give up?? Hiccup didn’t even give up in HTTYD 2 when his dad was killed by Drago but he beats a bunch of warlords and an apparently famed Night Fury hunter and that’s when he gives up?? It doesn’t make sense to me

- Toothless was able to smell the Light Fury from miles away in the exodus scene but wasn’t able to smell Hiccup from the rock he was lying on in that decade time skip and almost attacked him and his family, even though in the first film when Toothless was an actual wild dragon he knew Hiccup wasn’t a threat if he wasn’t holding a weapon

- Kinda bummed that Toothless’ appearance didn’t change between the ages of 21 and 31 in that decade time skip, I expected more nubs (the Light Fury too)

- The Homecoming short just proves that if people and dragons aren’t united anymore things just kind of almost go back to the way they were in HTTYD 1 (making the whole 6 years of human-dragon companionship just kind of pointless), the new generations of Berk will never grow up with dragons alongside them and see with their own eyes that they are more than just wild beasts (and apparently they weren’t being taught about dragons either until they put on the show about them according to the short), and dragons will never grow up alongside humans to see that some are good and want to help them, not trap and kill them.

- How is someone in the future supposed to pick up where Berk left off fighting for the dragons and uniting them when the Hidden World is so hostile towards humans?? No human is able to enter without getting swarmed by dragons

If you made it all the way to the bottom thanks for reading :] and again, I’m not trying to attack anyone who liked the movie, I’m just listing the things I, personally, didn’t like about it and the things that I thought didn’t work.