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violentdelightsandviolentends · 8 months

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Honey Girl. Chapter Five.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - Does absence make the heart grow fonder, or does it just make everything ten times more difficult?

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption. angst. mention of illness.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5.7k

Author's Note - it's here!! as always, I can't thank you enough for your love, support and patience with this fic. us writers lead busy lives, and i've been trying my hardest to find the time to write whenever I can, so it means so much that you guys stick with me - even when things take longer than expected. love you all. you're angels. please feel free to spam my inbox with thoughts and suggestions - it always makes my day when you're all so passionate. mwah.

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

The sand is warm beneath your feet, cooling breeze cascading across your skin. The waves caress the shore in repetitive motions, lulling you into calm.

Sunlight beaming down, you shield your eyes and look up, sighing in contentment at the shades of blue that paint the sky.

A shriek and a laugh come from somewhere on your right. You look over and see a couple and their toddler running after each other, sprinting down the beach and into the ocean. The little girl can't stop giggling, tripping over her own feet as she chases her parents. Something tugs at your heart, deep and visceral.

It's been three months since you left home.

It's been three months since you saw Bucky.

He calls every few days, trying to give you the space you need while also keeping in touch. You have to resist the urge to call him every ten minutes. It's an improvement, at least. It was five minutes when you first moved.

He texts you good morning and goodnight everyday without fail, just to let you know he's there. You can't sleep until you get his text. It's like a lullaby, reassuring and soothing. Like a chamomile tea, warming and calming you from the inside out.

You think about him the most at night time. Your days are spent running around preparing for the bakery. Testing, retesting, writing up recipes, measuring out quantities. You want it to be perfect.

The baking is taking your mind off Bucky, for the moment at least. You've thrown yourself into your new role, eager and excited. Stella's ecstatic to have you around. You love that you're still just as close as you were, despite the time apart. Friendships like that are rare.

Lacie calls you most nights. She demands to know what you did that day, who you spoke to, what you made. It's like therapy, sitting and decompressing together over videochat. She's a lifeline, whether she knows it or not.

And of course, the most supportive people in your life - your parents. Your Mom is desperate to come and visit, begging that you let her know when you're less busy so you can show her around. She loves the sunshine just as much as you. A woman after your own heart.

On the nights when the doubt creeps in, unwelcome and dark, you remind yourself how lucky you are. Surrounded by people who adore you, support you, love you unconditionally. And then the night doesn't seem so dark. The light pours through the cracks.

You walk home from the beach, warmed and carried by the knowledge of love.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"This is ridiculous."

Stella's perched on the edge of your countertop, blush pink macaron in her hand.

"Good ridiculous?"

She scoffs, looking at you incredulously.

"Where did your confidence go? You never doubted yourself in school. Yes, good ridiculous. It shouldn't work, but it does."

Shouldn't work, but it does. Seems to be the story of your life at the moment.

"I need these on the menu."

"You don't think they're a little... pretentious? My best seller is a chocolate chip cookie. A honey and rosewater macaron isn't exactly a childhood favourite."

"Babe. That's the beauty of this. You can put whatever the hell you want out in your bakery. So what if they're unconventional? They're delicious. That's all that matters."

"Okay. Fine."

You relent, thinking about her earlier question. Where did your confidence go? When you graduated culinary school, you never doubted your abilities. Your technique, your flavours, your presentation - you had full faith in all of it. Now, you seem to be second guessing yourself.

You know it's because of your Tethering.

Before, you understood how the world worked. Good, bad, in between. Love, lust, the very clear difference between the two. You watched as other people found their forever person, and acknowledged their new journey.

And then you found Bucky. Or, Bucky found you.

Suddenly, the world you'd lived in before no longer made sense. The people, the places, the relationships, all impacted by the way you feel about your soulmate. Everything, everyone, everywhere, reminds you of Bucky. You're experiencing emotions you've never felt before. It's disorientating, confusing, complex. Your understanding of the world has changed completely.

It takes time to adjust.

No one ever talks about the way your Tethering turns your life upside down.

For some, it's completely positive. They enjoy the uprooting, revel in the change.

For others, it's a huge adaptation. One filled with tears, and confusion, and doubts.

Both are valid. Both are understandable.

You remind yourself of this every day.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"There's someone in the café that wants to speak to you."

The youngest waitress, Isabel, stands in the kitchen doorway, looking at you hopefully. You set down your piping bag and wash your hands, talking to her over your shoulder.

"Who is it?"

"No idea. Some guy. He's kinda hot. Brown hair, tall, beard."

Your heart skips a beat, breath caught in your lungs. Bucky jokes sometimes about coming to see you, but would he just show up announced? Do you want him to?

You can't feel it in your chest, you realise suddenly. You can't feel the ease, the relief, the knowing. Maybe being apart for so long has weakened your connection. The thought makes you strangely emotional.

You inhale carefully and thank her, before making your way out. It's almost closing time, and there's no one around other than the man stood with his back to you.

He turns around, and you realise quickly that your hope was misplaced. You've never seen this person before. He is handsome, admittedly. But he's not your soulmate.

"Hi."

"Hey. Are you the baker here?"

"I am."

He holds out his hand for you to shake, stepping closer.

"I'm Rafael."

You tell him your name, and he smiles, nodding.

"Forgive me if this is weird, but I had to meet you. To thank you properly, in person."

You don't say anything, so he continues.

"Let me, uh, explain. Sorry, should have started with that. My sister is sick. She's going through treatment currently, and it's been super hard on her. She's had no appetite whatsoever, and she's losing weight rapidly."

He takes a deep breath before continuing.

"A couple of weeks ago, I picked up a load of stuff from this place because my Mom was coming to visit. My sister tried your earl grey and lavender cookie, and ate the entire thing. It was the first time I've seen her eat for weeks. So, I came back and bought basically all of them every day."

You laugh, coming to a realisation. You wondered why those cookies were selling so well all of a sudden.

"I just wanted to say thank you. It might not seem like a big deal, but it's really huge for us. I also wanted to explain why all of those cookies were suddenly going missing at like ten in the morning."

You gesture at him to sit, the both of you taking a seat at one of the tables nearby.

You talk for almost an hour, listening intently to Rafael as he tells you about his family. He moved to California to be with his sister Maria when she got sick, no one else around to care for her. He asks about yours, and you tell him about your parents and their constant encouragement. He's also interested in how you got into baking, so you tell him all about culinary school, and the dreams your Grandma gave you when you were a kid.

"You're really talented, you know."

"I bet you say that to all of the bakers around here. But thank you."

His fingers brush yours where they're resting on the table, making you shiver.

"I'll make Maria her own box, if you like. I'll leave them behind the counter, just tell Isabel who you are."

"You'd do that for her?"

"Of course," you smile. "The idea that I'm helping someone with my silly little creations makes me really happy. We can work out a schedule, and I'll make sure I bake Maria some extras when I do my usual batch."

"You're incredible. Seriously. Thank you."

He squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. The two of you are sat in the café as the sun sets, orange glow illuminating the room. You didn't expect to make a friend today. You're glad you have.

"Well, I should probably go and clean up the kitchen. You know where to find me, if you need anything. It was lovely to meet you, Rafael."

He rises when you do, smiling at you earnestly.

"You too. Nice to finally put a face to the cookie, so to speak."

You chuckle and show him out of the door, waving as he walks down the street. Suddenly, he turns around, striding back towards you.

"I'm so sorry if this is forward, and please feel free to say no, but... are you single? If you are, I'd love to ask you to dinner sometime."

The answer to that question is much more complicated than Rafael could ever imagine. So instead, you say,

"I'm not. I'm Tethered, actually."

His brows raise in surprise, but he's smiling.

"You are?"

"Yeah, I am. He doesn't live here, though. He lives back home, where my parents are."

"You guys are married?"

"No! Not yet. It's, uh... a complex... situation."

"Ah," he says, gentle, knowing look on his face. "I thought Tetherings weren't meant to be complex. Isn't that the whole point? That they're easy?"

You laugh, but it's not malicious. You're thinking about how sweetly naive he is, how he's got a huge storm coming his way one day.

"He's my Dad's best friend."

You're not sure why you're admitting this to a man you met an hour and a half ago, but you are. It's almost a relief, to get it off your chest again - to tell someone who's completely neutral, who doesn't know either of you.

"Woah."

"Yeah."

"That... is complicated."

"Yeah," you chuckle. "Understatement of the century."

Rafael leans against the wall, watching you intently. He's curious.

"How did your parents react?"

"They don't know yet."

His eyebrows raise almost comically high.

"Wait, what? How did you hide that? I thought it was supposed to be impossible to hide that you're Tethered. Although, I guess I had no idea, seeing as I asked you out."

"We wanted to figure it out for ourselves first, before telling anyone. And then I moved out here, so we're doing long distance. Like I said, complex."

"Understatement of the century," he laughs.

You look at each other for a moment, before he smiles.

"I'm sorry I asked you out. I wouldn't have, if I'd known."

"Please, don't apologise. I admire your... courage?" you grin. "And I appreciate you coming to see me today. I have like two friends here in Cali, so it's nice to feel like I've made another."

He smiles again, wider this time. Someone's going to be lucky to be Tethered to him one day, you think.

"I know it might surprise you, given my good looks and... courage," he chuckles, "but I don't have many friends out here either. I've been so focused on Maria, I haven't had time to socialise."

"The Universe works in funny ways, huh?"

"Sure does."

You wander back through the door, ready to close up for good this time.

"I'll see you tomorrow, for the cookies. And I'd love to meet Maria one day, if she's up for it."

"I'm sure she'd love to meet you. I'll bring her by."

"Thanks, Rafael."

"Of course. Thank you."

"Of course."

That night, when your Mom calls, you get to tell her you've made a new friend. That makes the both of you very happy.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You're testing out a recipe in the kitchen of your new apartment when your phone rings.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hey, kiddo. You doing okay?"

"Yeah, I am, actually. I'm settling in."

"Good, I'm glad. I don't wanna keep you on the phone for too long, but I wanted to ask you something."

"Go ahead, Dad. Anything."

"How would you feel about surprising your Mom for her birthday?"

"What kind of surprise?"

"I know you haven't been gone all that long, and I know it's kind of last minute, but, I was thinking you could come back to... be her gift? She really misses you, you know."

"I miss her too," you say softly, trying to keep your voice even. "I'll talk to Stella, see if we can figure something out. I'd really love to see you guys."

"We'd really love to see you too, sweetheart."

"I'll call you back later, when I've organised everything. Love you, Dad. See you soon, hopefully."

"Love you, kiddo. Proud of you, you know."

"I know," you smile. "I know."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The journey always seems shorter when you know you're going home.

You make it back in record time, salty ocean breeze whipping through your hair as you cruise along the roads. You take a deep breath and sigh it out, relief filling your lungs. It's good to be back.

You can't let your Mom see you, so you head straight back to your apartment. Your Dad told you they're in the process of renting it out, but they haven't made much progress yet. For now, it's still yours.

You inhale the familiar scent, smiling gently. There's something so particular about the way a place smells when you feel like you belong there. It's like home and comfort and ease all rolled into one.

You unpack a little, folding your clothes and tucking them into the dresser. You told Stella you'd probably stay a few days, wanting to spend as much time with your family as possible. You're rifling through the refrigerator and thinking about a grocery list when there's a knock at your door.

You know who it is.

A feeling of relief washes over your body, tension melting from your shoulders. Your lungs fill easier, your breath falls deeper, everything is a little brighter, a little more colourful.

You open the door to be met with the sight of Bucky Barnes.

He's in work pants and a white t shirt that's stained with grease and oil, heavy boots on his feet. He must have come straight from the Garage.

He looks at you carefully, as if he isn't sure that you're real. You rake your eyes over his form, trying to drink him in. All the pictures you've taken and saved don't do him justice.

He exhales, beaming grin appearing on his face.

"You're here."

You can't help but smile back, his happiness spreading through you.

"I'm here."

Bucky rushes forward and scoops you into his arms, enveloping you completely. He wraps himself around you as he tucks you into his chest, his grip tight and unrelenting. You breathe him in, overwhelmed with emotion and sensation. You didn't realise how much you needed this. Three months is too long.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, slight shake in his voice. He's holding off tears. So are you.

"My Dad wanted me to surprise my Mom for her birthday. It's all a secret."

He smiles, before leaning down to capture your lips in a knee buckling kiss. A kiss that says I missed you. A kiss that says I need you. A kiss that says please don't leave me again.

"How did you know?" you whisper when you pull away for air.

"I felt it. I think I knew the moment you arrived back in town. Thought my mind was playing tricks on me, for a second. But there's no mistaking that feeling. I had to come and see for myself."

"We're getting pretty good at this whole soulmate thing, huh?" you laugh, unaware of the tears running down your face. "I missed you, Buck. So much."

"I missed you too," he murmurs, kissing you again. "Didn't think I was going to survive, some days."

"Me too. Do you know how many times I stood with my car keys in my hand, ready to drive back to you?"

He chuckles and then sniffles, emotion dripping down his cheeks.

"I did exactly the same thing. So many times."

You wrap your arms around his middle, reveling in the way he smells like gasoline and home.

"How long are you here for?" he murmurs, worried he'll disturb the peace.

"I'm not sure. A good few days, at least."

"Okay," he breathes. "I can do a few days. We can do a few days."

"Sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I didn't know, to be honest. It was all kinda last minute."

"It's okay, pretty thing," he mutters into your hair. "It was a nice surprise."

"You're coming tonight, right? To my Mom's party?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

You stay wrapped up in each other for a little while longer, savouring his warmth. He rubs absentminded patterns across the skin of your back, committing the softness of it to his memory.

"I should probably get back to work. I took off with no warning."

"You're the boss. You're allowed," you chuckle.

He laughs with you, and the sound lights up your nerves, illuminates your bones. It settles itself in the hollows of your ribcage, tangles itself in your heartstrings. It's like medicine.

"Can't wait to see you tonight," you whisper. "Wear something cute."

"I always do," he winks, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Miss you already."

"Miss you more."

He looks at you, smiling.

"Man, we're the worst."

"Truly."

He kisses you once, twice, three times before finally leaving, reluctant to let you go. You spend the rest of the afternoon floating on air, relaxed and at ease. You haven't felt like this in a while.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Your Dad sneaks you into the house through the side door, hiding you in the kitchen as he ushers your Mom through to the back yard.

It's decorated with floral garlands and streamers, flowers in vases covering the table he's set up. The golden, warm fairy lights illuminate the space, keeping it soft and intimate. He's been watching, carefully observing the way that she does things. He's recreated her party style perfectly.

There's a few of her closest friends waiting for her, gifts littering the spare chairs. Your Dad walks her outside, hands covering her eyes.

"Surprise!"

You watch through the door as your Mom gasps, grin on her face.

"Oh my God! You guys!"

She runs into your Dad, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I can't believe you managed to pull this off," she says in disbelief.

He sets her back down on the ground and kisses her gently.

"I got you something. I hope you like it."

That's your cue. You sneak out as quietly as possible, standing behind her.

"Happy Birthday, Mama."

She whips around to face you, shock written across her face. Her eyes well up, tears threatening to spill. Yours do the same, bottom lip quivering.

She throws her arms around you, tugging you into her.

"I'm so happy you're here, baby girl. I missed you so much."

"Missed you. You look beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you! Look at you, all sun kissed and glowy. You look so pretty, sweetheart."

You grin at her and she does the same back, your Dad beaming at your identical smiles.

"You're the best gift I've ever received. Then and now."

You're overwhelmed, suddenly, by the realisation that no matter what happens, no matter what life throws at you, no matter how many miles are between you - your Mom will always be in your corner. Your Dad will always be in your corner. Bucky will always be in your corner.

You think, for a moment, that despite everything, you might just be okay.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The night goes off without a hitch.

You drink, you laugh, you sing. You and your Mom dance to ABBA, Bowie, Donna Summer. Your Dad joins in, and can't help but grin every time he watches his girls together.

What a life, he thinks. I'm the luckiest man in the world.

When everyone gets a little past tipsy, your Mom changes the music to something slower, jazzier, richer. Your Dad pulls her into his chest, holding her close as they move to the melody. You're sat at the table taking off your heels when Bucky slides into the seat next to you. He pulls your foot into his lap and undoes the strap, sliding the shoe off gently. He rubs his thumb into your sole, smirking when you groan.

"Have you been avoiding me tonight, pretty baby?"

His cheeks are flushed slightly, top few buttons of his shirt open. He's been drinking a little, his walls lowered more than usual.

"I have to."

"Oh yeah?"

"I feel like I'm gonna burst into flames every time you look at me," you whisper. "I kinda want to rip your clothes off, baby."

He groans at the nickname. You know exactly what you're doing.

"It only takes one look for a minute too long to figure out how I feel about you, Buck. They'll work it all out instantly."

"Dance with me," he murmurs suddenly. "Your parents are too busy staring into each others eyes. Come on, honey. One dance."

His big blue eyes bore into yours, and you know you're fucked. You're never going to be able to say no to him.

"One dance," you whisper.

He takes your hand and leads you to the decked area, brightened by the golden lights. Bucky slides a hand over your back, resting there carefully. You intertwine your fingers with his and step into him, embracing the warmth that rolls off his body.

I'll Be Seeing You by Billie Holiday begins to play, and the two of you start to sway gently, eyes never leaving each others. Bucky pulls you in closer, and you melt into him. You don't care about the repercussions anymore.

Maybe it's the wine talking. Maybe it's something else.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"That was close!"

Your Mom's giggling as your Dad holds her, having just saved her from tripping down the front steps. Everyone's giddy, both from drinking and from laughing.

"Sweetheart. Bucky. Come back for lunch tomorrow. Your Dad ordered too much catering, and we need help eating it."

"Mama, are you sure?"

"I want to see you as much as possible before you go, babygirl. You too, Buck. I feel like we don't see you as much as we used to."

"He'll be there," you reply before he can protest. "We'll carpool, and I'll bring a strawberry and cream tart that I made for you."

She kisses you on the cheek, your Dad leaning in to kiss the other side.

"Love you both."

"Love you," they say in unison, laughing and yelling jinx. "Get home safe, you two!"

"I'll take care of her," Bucky chuckles. "Always."

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

"Why don't you see my parents much anymore?"

You and Buck are walking home along the sandy coastal path, fingers intertwined and sides pressed together. You look up at him, frowning slightly when he hesitates.

"Don't lie to me, James. I can feel it, remember."

You place a hand on your chest to remind him, and he nods.

"It's not the same here without you."

You weren't expecting the sincerity. It knocks you off balance a little.

You stop when you reach a wooden bench, sitting down and pulling him with you.

"So you're isolating yourself from the people who love you?"

He smiles, sadness rife in his eyes. Your tough guy act is crumbling.

"Not on purpose. It just kinda happened."

"You promised you'd talk to me, Buck. Especially if it got too hard. You need to accept support from people, or everything is going to come crashing down."

"I know. I know. But every time I go to their house, I'm expecting you to be there. Every time I go to the beach, I'm expecting you to be there. Every time I walk past your building, I'm expecting you to be there, waiting for me to pick you up. Even when I'm sailing, I can't stop thinking about that day we spent on the boat."

"The other day I had to make three batches of buttercream, because I messed up the first two. I was so distracted thinking about you that I split them both."

He laughs, then, wholehearted and genuine. You can't help but join him, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all.

"Bucky, you have to promise that you'll keep going, even without me. You have to see my Mom and Dad like you used to, you have to still sail and go to the beach. You can't put your life on hold for me."

He takes a deep breath, sliding an arm around your shoulders to pull you in closer.

"Okay. I promise."

You whip your head around to look at him.

"Just like that?"

"Just like that, honey. You're right. I've been waiting for you to come back, so I can start living again. But life is still happening, whether you're here or not."

"Wise words, wise man," you smile. "Not a minute goes by where I don't think of you. You know that, don't you?"

"I know. I feel it."

You watch as he brings your linked hands to his chest, placing them there. You rest your head on his shoulder, lulled into calm by the steady melody of his heart. You swear it beats to the rhythm of your name.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

The two of you can't bear the idea of separating, so Buck comes home with you.

"Have you got a blanket?" he asks as he's kicking off his shoes.

"I have. What for?"

"The couch."

You process for a moment before it clicks.

"You're not sleeping on the couch, Buck."

"No?"

"No. I want your ridiculous, radiator-like body heat in bed with me."

He smiles, all giddy and lopsided, before striding across the room to you. Cradling your face in his rough hands, he kisses you with fervour. He's making up for lost time.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, tugging and pulling, smirking when he groans. He retaliates by grabbing your ass and picking you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He carries you through to your bedroom, lips never leaving yours.

Throwing you down onto the bed, he pulls his shirt over his head, watching you hungrily as you do the same with your dress. You're left in your underwear, leaving little to the imagination.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs. "Makes me want to cry."

You reach for him as he settles on top of you, your hand sliding along his stubbled cheek.

"I'm so glad you're feeling what I'm feeling," you whisper. "I'd think I was going insane otherwise."

Bucky kisses you again, before trailing his lips across your jaw, your ear, your neck. He's careful not to leave any marks, as much as he wants to. You glide your hands along the expanse of his shoulders, his back, his biceps. He's so strong, so broad. It makes you ache.

"So fuckin' pretty," he mumbles against your chest. "Like a goddamn dream."

You throw your head back as he attaches his mouth to your tits, nipping and sucking as he goes. Your hands are in his hair again, reveling in the way his groans vibrate through you.

Bucky slots his knee in between your legs as he kisses across your chest, smirking when you grind your hips into it. You chase the friction as best you can, moaning when it hits you just right.

"Needy baby. You don't want my fingers? My mouth? No? Just my knee?"

You nod, then shake your head. You're not sure what you're asking for, drunk on him already.

"Please, Buck. Anything."

"I'll give you whatever you want if you keep saying my name like that."

He makes quick work of pulling your underwear down your legs, swiping his fingers through your wet heat.

"Oh, fuck," he chokes. "Fuck, honey. Is this all for me? Hmm?"

"Yes, yes, yes."

"Yeah?"

"It's yours, Buck. I'm yours."

Bucky drops his head forward, bumping your nose with his.

"I think that's my favourite thing you've ever said," he mumbles against your mouth.

You reach up to kiss him, sucking his tongue before biting at his lips. You can't get close enough. Every inch of your skin is pressed to his, and you still want more.

Bucky crawls down the bed, situating himself between your legs. He nudges at you with his nose before diving in, lapping at you like a man starved.

You'd forgotten what people said about sex when you're Tethered, but it all comes back to you now. Everything is heightened, your senses on overdrive. It's like Bucky has the handbook to your body, and all he has to do is read the instructions the Universe has given him.

He's got you teetering on the edge in no time, right on the precipice. No ones ever made you feel like this. It feels like some sort of small miracle is happening, an otherworldly connection.

"Give it to me, honey baby," he murmurs into you. "Let me see how pretty you look when you come."

You tug at his hair as you reach your climax, the vibrations of his groan only prolonging your release. Bucky helps you ride it out, only ceasing his action when he's satisfied you're satisfied.

He rests his head against your thigh and looks up at you as you come down, breathing heavily.

"You good?"

"So good," you grin. "Never better."

"Me neither," he whispers, crawling up your body to kiss you again. You taste yourself and whine, desperate to feel closer to him.

"Need you," you demand against his lips. "Need you more than anything."

"I know, baby," he soothes as he smooths the hair back from your face. "Gonna give you everything you want. Anything in the world."

You're on the verge of tears again, completely overwhelmed. He's looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky just for him. You think maybe you would, if he asked you to.

Bucky slides home in one gentle thrust, easy as breathing. The both of you exhale, savouring the moment. It's like nothing either of you have ever felt before.

You pull his face down to you, resting your foreheads against each other.

"Buck, I-"

"I know," he breathes. "Fuck, I know."

"Need you to move, baby."

He nods and kisses you sweetly, before pulling his hips back and gliding forward. The angle is just right, both of you keening.

"Fuck, honey. So pretty. So tight. Fuck."

Bucky sets a steady rhythm, not too fast, not too slow. It's like he can read your mind, knowing exactly what you need. All you can say is his name as stars cloud your vision.

He slides his hand down your front, rubbing perfect circles on your clit with his fingers. You clamp down on him and he groans, low and gutteral.

"Need you to come, pretty baby," he whispers hoarsely. "Please. Waited so long for this. Please."

The desperation in his tone is what throws you into your release, muscles tensing and back arched. You grip his biceps, scratching your nails into his sun kissed skin.

Bucky can't hold on any longer, falling over the edge with you. The way he says your name as he does will be ingrained in your mind forever.

He drops his weight onto you entirely, no longer able to hold himself up. You wrap your arms around him, drawing absent minded patterns across his back. You're both sweating and panting. You're both completely content.

"Holy shit," he whispers after a while.

"You think it's gonna be like that every time?" you ask, grinning.

Bucky rolls off you and lands on the bed beside you, pulling you into his chest.

"Honey, just you wait. I've got moves you've never seen."

You snort, unable to hold in your laughter. You're floating on cloud nine, satiated and warm.

"You're the worst," you giggle, running your fingers over his abs gently.

The two of you stay intertwined for hours, enjoying the way your bodies fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. You both drift in and out of sleep, conversing in the gaps. At some points, you just lay in silence, completely comfortable. No one needs to say anything. You both know what the other person is thinking.

Eventually, the sun rises, casting the room in a golden orange glow. Bucky looks like an angel, illuminated by the morning light. You wonder for a second if he is, sent down as a gift to you.

Suddenly, you feel an intense sadness in your chest. You look up at Bucky from where you lay across him, and see a single tear drip down his cheek.

"I don't want you to go."

The only sound that can be heard is his sorrow hitting the pillow.

"I don't think I want to go."

He strokes your hair softly, taking a deep breath to try and get a handle on his emotions.

"You have to, baby. It's your dream."

Your bottom lip wobbles for a second, before the words come spilling out.

"You're my dream."

Bucky sniffles, and you continue.

"I could have nothing, but I have everything if I have you."

You sit up and Bucky does too, capturing your lips in a tear stained kiss.

"We'll be okay, my honey girl."

You crawl into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, letting his warmth bleed into your bones.

"I know," you say, unsure if you're trying to convince yourself or him.

You know you'll be okay. It just doesn't feel like it right now.

You wonder how many times you can keep leaving and coming back before one of your hearts breaks for good.

tag list part one

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

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ivymarquis · 18 days

Text

Happiness is a Butterfly

It's been literal months since I read @ceilidho's divorce AU and guess what it is still rattling around in my brain because it is just scrumptious.

This is what I vanished to work on lol

Pairing| John Price x F!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 10.6k Kinks/Content/Warnings| 3rd person reader, Post Divorce John Price x Wife!Reader, Attempting to co parent, John is obnoxiously agreeable until he no longer wants to be, there is the s l i g h t e s t mention where reader is worried John might snap but he doesn't scout's honor, squirting, unprotected PiV, blow job, face sitting, unplanned pregnancy, childbirth, reproductive coercion if you squint, baby trapping if you squint, it is a lil dubby because John doesn't do anything behind Reader's back but he steamrolls the fuck out of her into getting what he wants lmao

The words choke in her throat like they don’t want to leave.

Maybe that’s a higher power giving her just one last out to change her mind- to not say the four words that will upend the lives of everyone in the household.

She can barely bring herself to look at him.

In the decade they’ve been married his temper has never been something she’s been afraid of, but in that moment it is all she can think about; every headline she’s ever read of a soldier snapping and killing his wife and children floating in her mind like a neon sign flashing danger.

She’s never feared his temper but she’s also never croaked out the words I want a divorce to him before either.

Her arms cross over her body as her gaze settles a bit off to the side of him. Everything about her body language is closed off and cagey as he looks up from his desk- no doubt having been mentally preparing for another round of come to bed, love - in a minute darling, almost done only to be caught off guard by the actual request.

He doesn’t answer her as he sits back in his chair, looking at her.

She chooses now to choke out the words because she really doesn’t think she has it in her to say the words with him standing. He’s sitting- still imposing as ever even if he’s always been magnanimous around the house- and she’s on the other side of the room avoiding eye contact.

He stands, still silent as the grave, before walking towards her in slow, measured steps and coming to a halt right in front of her. The ground has become absolutely fascinating as she refuses to meet his gaze.

As his hand raises she imperceptibly starts to shift, but absolutely nothing escapes John’s notice. “Don’t,” he starts before clearing his throat, his tone softer as he speaks again, “Don’t do that. You know me better than that.”

This time she doesn’t move as he goes to cup her face- takes her chin in hand and forces her head up. “Look me in the eye and say it again.”

It takes a moment for her to scrape together her nerves, eyes picking up off the floor to meet his. She’s not sure entirely what she expected but she thinks she assumed there’d be more of a reaction. He’s watching her- thinking- as she stumbles over the words.

Doubt twists in her gut as once again she squeaks out “I want a divorce.”

“Is there someone else?” he asks evenly.

“No! John I’d never-” It’s true; ever since he’d turned her head all those years ago she’s been blind where other men are concerned.

“Okay,” he soothes with his thumb against her cheek and she’s suddenly aware that this is probably not how this conversation should be going. “I believe you. Are you sure this is what you want?”

She’s been agonizing over this for months. She’s not even sure what gauntlet was thrown down to make her say enough is enough and have today be the day. Nothing spectacular has happened.

Maybe that’s reason enough. His job is always just the higher priority. While he always ensures his family is cared for while away, he drops everything for work in a way that simply isn’t reciprocated at home. Even when he’s physically here he spends so much time locked in this damn office he might as well be back at base.

Nothing has changed after begging and pleading and she is tired with a bone weary ache.

Are you sure this is what you want? Echos in her head while he awaits an answer.

“Yes.” No. “I’m so tired of being alone,” she confesses. “I’m tired of constantly having to beg you to be here even when you’re home. If I am going to be by myself raising the boys then I just need to be by myself.”

He doesn’t seem surprised by the words in the slightest. Probably because they’ve been having the same argument for years. This is not the first time she’s been frustrated with his job.

“Okay,” she can’t believe her ears with his easy acceptance. “If this is what you want, then okay.”

She sobs- alone- in their bed like the entire situation isn’t her fault, burying her face in the bedding to stifle herself from the kids. John’s gone.

Everything goes about as smoothly as it can. John doesn’t fight her on anything. With his schedule there’s no point in ironing out a visitation schedule through the courts. They agree to just work it out when they can, given how he can be called away at a moment’s notice.

They’re adults. They can handle this.

Once her nerves settle from the initial shock of actually saying the words to him, and she’s had a few days to think on his reaction, she decides she’s pissed.

The easy acceptance ruffles her feathers in a way she can’t put to words. She gave him a decade of her life, a home, three children- has kept everything running seamlessly while he jumped in and out of their lives to answer the call of duty and he didn’t even try to fight for her.

If he was being sullen or grouchy with her it would be easier to process everything- all the things set into motion that she started.

Perhaps she’s projecting. But he just acts like nothing is amiss as he comes by to pick up the boys or drop them off or just stop by to spend time with them.

She wakes up on the 15th and right on time she is awoken by a ding from her phone.

Perhaps, she thinks, it is a lapse in judgment to kick him out for not being around, given that she’s now cut into what already little time he has to spend with them. Isn’t that the focus of her argument? That it’s too difficult for the boys?

Their boys- three of them, each one a head taller than the last- are understandably devastated and struggling to deal with very big, very complex feelings that result in major meltdowns and fights. They blame her and they’re not wrong.

Then one day, when old habits die hard and she confides in John tearfully one day as he’s returned from his latest deployment to see them, while she can’t say it stops all together she can say there’s a marked improvement when they come back.

What did he tell them?

Her phone dings on the 1st like it always does every other week and her agitation is palpable.

She doesn’t even need to look at the notification.

John isn’t missing a beat this entire time and he’s driving her crazy.

The notification is from the bank, of an entirely too large deposit to an account that only she has access to. John’s name is not on it and he can’t touch anything in it.

He can however put money in it.

He is as steadfast and agreeable as always while stubborn enough to just bulldoze into getting his way.

She knows she should be grateful. That so many ex husbands abandon their children and former wives in favor of some shiny new girlfriend. That it would be so easy for him to throw her “if I'm going to be by myself then I'm going to be by myself” back in her face.

Her career had been put on hold with the boys. When everyone was older and in school and didn’t need her so much the plan had been to go back. And then John had kept putting babies in her and the timeline got pushed further back with the subsequent births of their two youngest children.

It would have been so easy for him to tell her to just figure it out herself, that this is what she wants and she can navigate life on her own just fine.

Instead he deposits entirely too much money into an account he can’t access.

She’s not sure why today is different, but she hits her limit and calls him. They’ve never actually spoken about his little transactions.

“You alright, then, love?” She remembers deciding to pick her battles and not harp that she’s not his love anymore.

“What are you doing?”

There’s a brief pause.

“…I’m on base? About to take my lunch, actually. Maybe you can -“ she cuts him off before he can get any further.

“I’m not calling to ask about your day and you know it,” she snaps irritably. “I’m asking about the deposit. What are you doing?”

John, once upon a time, used to tease about his spoiled, hot headed wife. She knows she is being the epitome of spoiled and ungrateful but come on- no one is this agreeable about a divorce. She doesn’t trust it.

“I have no idea what you mean, love.” He assures her good naturedly.

“You have no idea how several thousands have been deposited into my account?”

She wants to reach through the phone to strangle him when she hears that even tempered laugh of his.

“I know how the money got deposited, love- I did it myself. I don’t know why you’re questioning my motives. We both know you haven’t worked outside the home in years- you need money to keep everything going.”

“John, it's too much. I know you know how much I spend in a month!”

He sighs. She can picture him sitting at his desk on base. Sprawled out in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation.” He responds evenly. “The plan wasn’t for you to go to work until the youngest one’s in school next year. You’ve been out of the market for years, I can only imagine an employer trying to use that to short change you.”

He lets out a sigh, and she feels something akin to guilt for freaking out on him.

John’s always been the one to make the best out of a shit situation. To try to steady the boat in the storm. Even when his own wife (ex wife) is the one making waves.

“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation,” he repeats. “I just want you to be able to raise the boys comfortably without worrying about making ends meet.”

The something coils tighter in her gut.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he assures her and once again she has to bite back a not your sweetheart anymore.

“Now,” there’s the slightest shift to his tone and feels herself falling back into old habits again. As keyed in to him as a dog awaiting her master’s command. “What I was going to say earlier- I’m about to take my lunch. I would appreciate it if you could bring me the boys. I’d like to see them today.”

She can’t very well tell him no now can she?

The boys are her heart and soul but she sees them for exactly who they are- three rambunctious little spitfires always up to something. Good boys, but curious and mischievous. The curse of having smart children.

Until they’re on base at least. All three are quiet as church mice, gathered behind their mother and peering at the soldiers from behind her skirt.

She can’t truly correct the guards at the gate when they greet her as Mrs. Price- she hasn’t changed her name and isn’t sure if she’s going to.

It’s not hers anymore, but it’s still her boys’ name and things are easier. She’d likely have to retrain herself to respond to her maiden name.

The boys are hot on her heels until they stumble across John- as soon as he sees them, dropping a knee with open arms the trio are off like a shot as peals of “Daddy!!” fill the air.

“You can just call me after you’ve finished lunch and I can come get them,” she states amicably, watching John as he wrangles the three of them. The sooner she can get out of here, the better off she’ll be (because God help her, watching him with their oldest two was how she ended up pregnant with the third, and watching him with them now just makes her yearn for something she no longer has any claim to).

Immediately the three boys are protesting, albeit not quite as vocally as they normally would.

“Mummy, no!” “Mum!” “But it’ll be fun!” the trio state their cases to varying degrees.

John shushes the three of them gently to keep them from winding up too much before turning to her. “Come on now, sweetheart, for old time’s sake, hm?”

Their little three stooges voice their approval of that idea, chiming in with various degrees of “Yeah!”

Ultimately it’s the desire to keep her children complacent that has her agreeing. She doesn’t want a scene.

Unfortunately, a (albeit mild) scene is what she ends up having anyway.

She knows (is hopeful, at least) that her oldest doesn’t mean anything by it while they’re waiting for their food and asks “So what time are we going to nana’s later?”

Her eyes snap to him about the same moment as John’s snaps to her, and she’s deliberately trying to avoid his gaze.

Why, oh why, could he not have asked either before or after lunch?

“We’ll probably get ready after we go back home.” she’s careful to keep her tone neutral.

“How fun,” Ah shit, she can hear the suspicion in John’s voice. “Any reason in particular, or just a fun weekend?”

“Just for the night. Mum’s picking us up tomorrow. Right Mum?”

The server chooses that moment to bring their food, which gives her a moment to figure out how the fuck she’s gonna weasle out of this conversation.

“Yes, I’ll come get you after breakfast.”

“Could have called me.”

“That didn’t seem appropriate. They’ll be fine with my mum.” Her gaze drops to her plate, knowing full well if she looks up that his eyes will lock on hers.

“Don’t see what’s inappropriate about me watching my own kids.”

It’s not that she’s happy to squabble with John where the kids have a front row seat, but there is a dark part of her that delights in watching him. He has been obnoxiously agreeable this entire time and the cracks are showing. It makes her feel like she’s dealing with another human being, because she knows she’s got her moments where she loses her mind during all of this and it’s beyond frustrating that he is so dauntless no matter the circumstances in every situation.

“It’s not-” Jesus, does she tell him? What does that conversation look like? “I have plans tonight.”

John is not a stupid man and she can see the moment he realizes she’s not planning a girl’s night out for herself.

That she hadn’t thought it appropriate to ask him to take the kids so she can go on a date with another man.

“I’m watching them,” he asserts before returning to his plate.

“John-”

“I said I’m watching them,” his tone is softer, but leaves no room for argument. Conversation over.

There’s nothing wrong with her date. He is well mannered and polite, attentive when she speaks. No obvious red flags- he doesn’t dismiss her stories, doesn’t shirk back at the mention of her three children, isn’t rude to the server and isn’t texting on his phone opposed to actually engaging with her.

There is nothing wrong with him and for an idle moment she pictures what her could have been like had she married a man like him instead of John. The 9-5, the set routine, the security and reliability of knowing that he is coming home at his regular time and he’ll be there for the boys various sports and activities.

And yet all she can think of is John, who is sitting in their home, watching their children. Of the late night returns from deployment where they’d have their stolen alone time- quiet as church mice so as not to wake the boys who most assuredly would not be going back to sleep if they knew their father was home.

Of the delighted squeals of their children when they come into the room to wake her for breakfast only to find him in bed like nothing was amiss.

(And yes there was always the heartbreak that followed him walking out the door, the anxiety between phone calls that would brew until she once again could assess that he is alive and not dying blown to bits on the other side of the world)

There is nothing wrong with her date but he is not John, and that is an obstacle he will never be able to overcome.

She is safely deposited on her doorstep with polite pleasantries. She thinks he knows, has a kind smile and understanding eyes as she carefully tells him I’m sorry, I thought I was ready but I don’t think I am.

Someone will recognize him as a catch but John never let go of the hold on her heart. Someone will want this man but all she wants is John.

It’s not as late as she thought it would be when she comes home- a fact that John immediately comments on when her eyes land on him while searching for him.

“Well that didn’t last long.” The air feels different from before she left home, and she stands stock still as he rises off the couch and strides towards her.

“I,” she starts and stops, choking on the words. Why the hell did she ever agree to letting him babysit again?

Yes he’s the father of her children and yes she wants him to spend time with them whenever possible but this is just so incredibly awkward for her.

“I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again,” she finishes lamely.

“I would imagine not, if the date ended that quickly. We were always out for hours, weren’t we sweetheart?”

She can’t quite get a read on him but the entire tone of the conversation is… odd. Hell, the entire conversation is odd.

John is not one of her girlfriends for her to cheekily report back how her date went. He’s her ex husband for God’s sake.

“We were,” she agrees amicably- mind spinning with memories of the various times they had stumbled into bed early in the morning, or crawled into the backseat of John’s car like horny teenagers or-

One moment her thoughts are full of the various times John had folded her up like a piece of paper, and the next she’s aware that he’s closed the distance between them while she’s distracted.

“Makes me wonder if that was your plan all along,” he ponders out loud. She squeaks in protest, rooted to the ground and not even attempting to put more space between them.

“Was it? Having me home with the kids while you were out with another man?” His tone holds far more warmth than one would expect of a man all but accusing his (ex) wife of being a hotwife.

John’s hands grip at either side of her hips, thumbs rubbing in affectionate circles. She doesn’t quite know what to do with her own- she can feel the shift in the room. She hasn’t been with anyone since the last time they slept together, and there’s only so much fucking herself can due to take the edge off.

She can’t mimic the weight of a man’s body on top of hers- of his voice rumbling in her ears, the body heat radiating off of him as he coaxes one orgasm after another out of her.

She doesn’t want just a man though, in the broad scope of the term. It’s John.

He stops stroking at her before making a few deliberate swipes. It dawns on her that he’s feeling at the seam of her lingerie set underneath her dress.

“What’s this?” He asks, hands roaming and squeezing at her sides- possibly seeing if he can gauge which set is hidden away by feeling how the fabric wraps around her.

It’s a new one. While she hadn’t been sure about sleeping with her date, the thought of wearing lingerie that at one point had been meant for John felt wrong.

There’s a part of her willing to admit that at the rate things are going, he’s likely going to be christening this one also by the end of the night.

“Were you planning on showing this to him?” John’s enjoying torturing her- dangling the man she wasn’t ever all that interested in just to bait her.

“No, I-,” she hadn’t really thought about it. There was no plan. She was going on a date, so she put on lingerie like she always has.

Like she always did- for him. John would make a game of figuring out which set she had on.

“I just want you,” the truth bubbles out of her throat unbidden.

John descends on her like a man starved- fingers digging into her hips with a grip that she knows is going to leave bruises later.

“Bed,” she mumbles between kisses. Given how John immediately starts herding her backwards towards the bedroom, he’s clearly on board with this plan.

Once the door is shut, the pair cross the room before collapsing against the bed.

Clothes are shed in a hurry, pried off with little regard as they’re shucked to the floor.

“This one looks lovely on you,” John murmurs in praise against her skin as he gropes at the lace adorning her body, dropping to his knees on the side of the bed.

God has she missed this- missed him. The feeling is clearly mutual from the way he busies himself between her legs, lips peppering kisses across her inner thighs quickly while he makes his way towards the spot she wants him most, the gusset of her thong pulled aside.

Just as his breath is fanning over the core of her he pulls back slightly. Her thigh twitches in frustration, so close to finally having the nirvana of his tongue lapping at her only for him to have to be a tease.

“Has anyone else gotten a taste of this sweet cunt?” He asks, eyes on her with an intensity that has her squirming.

“No! There hasn’t been- John, I swear I haven’t-“ she protests.

“I believe you,” he assures her.

She probably should ask if the same could be said for him- for her own sake if nothing else. But she’s already made a slew of questionable decisions that haven’t gone the way she wants, and she errs on the side of not asking questions she doesn’t want an answer to.

Her eyes roll immediately once his mouth is on her. His hands grip at the underside of her thigh, holding them apart to give him unfettered access.

“John,” somehow she can’t quite wrap her mind around the fact that he’s got her back in their bed. Everything is novel and familiar at the same time, and she is overwhelmed by how easy it is to fall back into old habits.

He pulls away just long enough to speak, “I missed you so much,” before going back to eating her out.

John is a man on a mission, and he is familiar enough with her body to know exactly how to get her where he wants her. He also knows all of her tells- God damn him. No sooner has he dragged her to the precipice of her orgasm does he sit back, content to let her dangle but stopping just shy of letting her finally topple over.

“Wh-why?” She whimpers, lust, anticipation and disappointment curling in her gut.

He’s so gentle with her when he takes her left hand in his own, thumb running over her knuckles in soothing movements.

“Where’s your ring, sweetheart?” his question is a non sequitur if she’s ever heard one, head spinning trying to catch up through the haze of pleasure she’d been drowning in just a moment ago.

“My ring?” She mimics more on reflex than anything else, mind still reeling to catch up.

“Yes, sweetheart, your ring.” He repeats, eyeline following hers as her gaze shifts to the jewelry box sitting on the vanity.

There’s no written standard on how long to keep your ring before getting rid of it, and she hadn’t been sure about it. Figured she could always get rid of it later- when it’s never a question of if she’s making the right decision. Even with the ink dried on the paperwork finalizing their divorce, the ring feels like the final nail in the coffin for their marriage.

So she put it in her jewelry box, where it is safe but out of mind and she could worry about it later.

She never thought for a second that ‘later’ would arrive in the form of her ex husband telling her “Go get it and bring it here.”

It’s a beautiful ring; everything she ever wanted growing up. The cut, the size, the setting- John did a lovely job when he picked it out all those years ago.

Gonna be an officer’s wife, sweetheart he’d told her after she’d accepted his proposal. Gotta look the part.

Surely no one can blame her for not gnashing at the bit to part with it?

She hesitates for a moment before ultimately deciding to just do as she’s told- John didn’t tell her to put it back on. So she holds it pinched between her thumb and pointer.

In an alternate dimension, where she’d gone back with her date and let him charm her out of her new lingerie, there would be some insecurity over her body. Bringing three tiny lives into the world takes its toll in the form of stretch marks and loose skin and some extra weight that just clings to her like a needy toddler- but any time John has seen her naked, he is as moon eyed as he was the first time all those years ago. Like he can’t quite believe his luck and he’s not entirely sure she’s real.

Tonight is no exception. As soon as she’s in arms reach his hands settle on her hips, pulling her closer to him.

“We’re going to lay some ground rules, and then I’m going to fuck you into the mattress. Am I clear, pet?” Warmth and affection roll off of his tone in waves despite his words. All she can do is nod dumbly.

“This,” John takes the ring from her before sliding it back on her finger,” stays where it belongs. Right here.”

He pulls her even closer- she has to crane her neck to look up at him. “There’s no more dates with other men. That stops tonight.”

Another easy acquiescence. She nods in agreement.

He spins her slowly, facing away from him and then pulling at her hips so she’s sitting on him. She starts to hover, holding herself up until he swats at the side of her ass. “Now is not the time to play with me,” he warns.

She settles, feeling the mattress dip underneath their combined weight. John clearly has a plan in mind as he guides her to spread her legs, a chill running up her spine as the air laps at her wet cunt. His erection presses heavy at her ass, trapped between his body and her own.

His left middle and ring finger tap at her lower lip and she opens her mouth on reflex. John doesn’t even need to tell her to suck, tongue laving over the thick digits automatically, the same way she would his cock.

“I’m not mad,” he whispers in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You tried and tried to tell me, and I didn’t take you seriously, did I?”

She can only assume that this is all rhetorical- that there’s no way he can expect an answer out of her considering she’s gagging on his fingers.

“As soon as you told me you wanted a divorce in my office, I knew what it was. You needed my attention, and I wasn’t listening. I don’t blame you. Hell, I practically forced your hand. So I’m not mad,” he reiterates.

“But you’ve got my full attention now, lovely- I can promise you that.”

She twists as much as she’s able, watching John out of the corner of her eye while still sucking; her tongue tasting the metal of his ring as it ran along the base of it.

“We,” he pulls his fingers from her mouth, grinning when she chases his hand slightly, “are going to work this out. I love you, and I have no intention of letting another man raise my children.”

It would be easy to say the arousal dripping from her is left from when John’s mouth was on her, but that would be a lie. Him taking her in hand- literally- and telling her he has no intention of letting her go is definitely doing it for her.

Wet fingers grab at her jaw and turn her head, making her melt into his hold as he kisses her. “There’s my good girl,” his voice is a rumbling timber purring in her ear.

She whines when those two fingers trace down her body- an appreciative squeeze of her breasts trailing to grope at her ass before finally slipping between her legs.

“John,” his name is a whimper against his lips as she wiggles in anticipation.

“So impatient,” he admonishes gently as he works his fingers inside of her.

Warmed by their body heat, his ring isn’t cold against her skin by any stretch of the imagination. If anything, it feels like a white hot branding iron everywhere he touches. That tonight is a reclamation as much as a reunion as he crooks his fingers inside of her.

It was easy to ignore the need that burned in her at night. She’d run herself ragged during the day chasing after children and keeping all her ducks in a row. With John gone, it was easy to shove the desire down and ignore it.

But oh now that he has her in his arms, fingers buried in her as he works her closer to her peak? She feels like she’s on fire. Greed burns at her insides, needing more. Nothing short of climbing inside of him would abate the desire roaring in her body.

Her hips cant in short motions, following the movement of his hand eagerly.

As reluctant as she is to stop kissing him, she can feel a crick in her neck starting to form from keeping her head turned for so long.

Her head lulls against his shoulder when his free hand slips under the lace of her bra and grips one nipple between his middle finger and thumb, his pointer finger teasing the hardened nub in a way he knows drives her absolutely insane.

“Oh my God,” she squeaks just a breath too loud, her hand immediately clamping over her mouth as John pinches her nipple just shy of pain in reprimand. “Not too loud,” he reminds her, mollified when she nods in acknowledgement.

He’s got her panting in need in record time, a small part of her suspicious that he’s going to stop her short of her climax again. The anxiety only serves to fuel the fire burning in her gut, giving the final push to tip her over the edge.

Apparently neither trust her ability to be quiet when her climax hits, because John’s hand abandons teasing her breast in favor of also making sure her cries are muffled. The other is soaked as she squirts, twitching and bucking in his hold.

“Need to shove your face in a pillow,” he comments dryly, a shit eating grin on his face as he takes in her blissed out expression.

He knows her inside and out; knows exactly how long she needs to recover before he’s tapping at her side and prompting her up. “Get on the bed and lay on your back.”

She complies immediately on shaky legs, standing to turn and crawling to the middle of the bed.

John is just as delicious now as he was over a decade ago, and her brain threatens to short circuit watching him crawl over top of her. There’s more grey hairs and fine lines creasing around his eyes, and her heart still thrums in her ribcage like a hummingbird.

She relaxes against the mattress, trusting entirely that John has everything handled. He positions her how he wants, settling between her legs and rubbing the tip of her cock against her wet entrance.

“Please, John, I can’t wait anymore,” she begs, feeling like she’s about to lose her mind. The edge should be taken off considering John’s rather patiently gotten her off already once, and yet if anything it just makes her more frantic. As much as each swipe of his cock against her swollen clit sends tingles of pleasure up her spine, she’s gagging for him and running out of patience.

“You are a spoiled thing,” he admonishes good naturedly like he hasn’t made a habit of indulging her every whim and desire in the past decade up to and including getting a divorce.

“We might have our problems, sweetheart, but being able to fuck you right was never one of them, was it?” John teases as he lines himself up with her. She shakes her head in agreement. If she’s being truthful, that’s partially what had stayed her hand for as long as she had. The frustration with his work being so all consuming it was like his mistress had been a slow boil for quite some time. For years John would mollify her by fucking her into submission- and she has a sinking suspicion that their youngest was an attempt to get her to let up on the subject.

His generosity in the bedroom stems from equal parts wanting to please, and the pragmatic aspect that he is not a small man, and it’s usually easier for everyone involved if he gets her off before attempting penetration.

It’s like they haven’t missed a day- it takes a few thrusts to get her body to spread for him and then all the blood on John’s body dives south for the wet, warm cunt wrapping around his cock.

“This pretty cunt’s got me like a vice, sweetheart,” he praises, leaning down to kiss her.

“I missed you so much,” she whines into the kiss. “It feels so good.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he grunts against her neck, each clap of his hips against hers earning a whine. “You divine creature- got me wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”

An entire relationship’s worth of orgasms makes it so she doesn’t begrudge him that he’s going to be a quick shot tonight. His earlier statement is correct- if there is one thing the man knows how to do, it’s fuck her within an inch of her life. He’s proven that time and time again.

If anything, given their time apart, it appeases some of her anxiety- he must not be getting any from anyone else if he’s already this close to finishing.

“Look at me,” he instructs and she complies immediately. One of his hands strokes her face while his other arm braces his weight above her. “Tell me you love me.”

Her answer is immediate. “I do! John, I love you. I love you so much!”

His hips come to a halt against hers as he grunts against her neck in pleasure. “My perfect girl,” he praises, hands stroking at her sides as he comes down from his high.

She’s so caught up in the lust of the situation that it takes a second for reality to come knocking on her door. “Shit! Pull out!” she tells him, trying to scramble out from underneath him.

“What?” In all their years, ‘pull out’ has never been one of the instructions. He complies even as his brows knit in confusion.

“I haven’t been keeping up with my birth control!” Despite John’s easy assurance that he can just stroll in and assert that they are going to work through things (and she does want to)- adding a new baby on top of their mess will not help get shit sorted out.

Once again, his unflappable attitude has its way of driving her absolutely insane. “Bit late for that, innit? You’ve already had 3 of mine, what’s one more at this point?”

“One more at this point is exactly the point!” she tries to reason.

“We did say a girl would be nice,” he reminds her.

“That was before we got a divorce!” she hisses, trying to be mindful of her volume lest she wake their children.

“That’s nothing but paperwork, pet. We can have it sorted by the time you’re due.” John can tell he’s truly gone and wound her up more than he meant with that, immediately shifting gears to try and settle her back down.

“Okay, too much. I’m sorry. Come here,” he guides her to lay down, which she does albeit with a fair amount of suspicion.

John wisely chooses not to agitate her further or do anything that could be considered pushing in his luck (like, say, pointing out that despite her protests about another baby, she’s not said a peep about the cum dripping from her).

Instead he draws her up into his arms, sticking his nose firmly in her hair.

For a long moment it’s quiet, nothing but the sound of their breathing in the late night.

It catches her off guard when the tears come unbidden. One moment she’s happily lazing in her (ex-turned-hopeful-once-more?) husband’s arms, and the next she’s sobbing uncontrollably.

They’ve been through enough that it shouldn’t embarrass her. For fuck’s sake, she’d vomited all over him during the birth of their second son. But she feels like an exposed livewire sobbing over nothing and without warning.

“What’s wrong?” John mumbles as he wakes half-way, pulling her closer to him and stroking her back to console her.

“I mucked everything up,” she chokes out, burrowing her face against his neck. “I didn’t even want this, I just didn’t know what else to do!”

He shushes her gently, petting at her in an attempt to calm her down. “I meant what I said, pet. I know things have to change, but at the end of the day it’s just papers. We’ll get everything fixed back in its proper place.”

She doesn’t remove herself from the spot on his neck she’s nestling against, but quiets down and eventually they both fall asleep once again.

When she wakes again, she feels far more level headed- although neediness eats away at her. It’s like her body is craving to make up for lost time for the months they’ve been apart.

She can’t help herself as one hand trails down the thick hair dusting his torso, pressing kisses against his neck. Even in his sleep John responds to her touch- pulls at her to be closer to him, huffing as his dick twitches in interest.

It only takes a quick lick of her palm and a few strokes to have him stiffening in her hand.

The dried spend on the inside of her thighs is enough of a reminder, even if she’s feeling affectionate this morning, that she’s going to have to figure something out for her birth control.

For the morning at least the answer to that is easy- still working her hand in slow motion up and down on his shaft she kisses a trail down his neck and working her way south.

The movement is enough to have John stirring with a sinful groan in the back of his throat.

“Well good morning, gorgeous,” he greets, voice clouding in sleep in a way that makes her just want to sit on his face.

Humming out an acknowledgement, she continues to work her way down his abdomen. She does give in to the impulse to nip at the base of his happy trail, delighting in how he sucks back away from her teeth only to push at her head immediately after.

“Bad girl,” he admonishes with no true venom in his voice “Keep those teeth to yourself, hm?” he advises with an affectionate swat to her ass.

Rather than crawling down him, she’s got herself angled perpendicular to him. All the better for him to pet her with one hand while the other encourages her to take him in her mouth.

The moan he makes as she bobs her head is sinful, and she presses her thighs together and shifts her hips to get whatever little bit of friction she can- an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by John.

“That pretty pussy of yours needs some attention, doesn’t it sweetheart?” he asks, a warm hand running down her spine and trailing across her ass until he starts to tease her.

She works with a sense of urgency, even with John taking his time playing with her. They should have another hour or so to themselves before the boys wake up, but they’re also no strangers to a mad scramble under the covers with an unplanned interruption.

“Fuck,” he bites out a curse, hips flexing underneath her. That’s all the encouragement she needs to redouble her efforts, the hand not supporting her weight wrapping around him and stroking to help get him there faster. Despite their years together she’d never quite been able to take all of him down her throat.

“Look at me,” and the eye contact is all it takes for her to feel him stiffening beneath her. “Gonna swallow for me, sweetheart? Yeah, that’s my good girl- keep those eyes on- fuck,” he grunts, his climax hitting.

She’s well versed in swallowing his seed as he cums- keeps up the suction even as his orgasm tapers off just to see how long it takes him to grab her by the hair and pry her off of him.

“Sit on my face. And don’t even think about fucking hovering,” John orders and she complies immediately. His teasing while she’d blown him leaves her a horribly needy mess- None of the pent up lust releasing yet, although anticipation has her scrambling back up the bed and straddling his face.

He pulls at her hips, locking a forearm around her like he wants to make sure she isn’t going to change her mind and start teasing him back.

And fuck does that man know exactly where to lick and suck to make her eyes roll. One of her hands gripping the headboard for dear life, the other one buries itself in John’s hair. He takes direction like a champ, following the not-so-subtle cues from her as she pulls him where she wants him.

“Please, please, please,” she babbles breathlessly as he gets her teetering over the edge, only to release his hair in favor of clamping her hand over her mouth as her orgasm washes over her.

Her legs are weak as he guides her back down before getting her on her back and kissing her until she’s breathless. As engrossing as their make out session is, neither one particularly cares that they can taste themself on the other.

Eventually the pair wear themselves out, calming down from their earlier romp and managing to get into the shower and cleaning up.

It’s only after they’ve escaped the pull of their marital bed, as the water washes the lust out of her system that the reality of the situation comes knocking again, insistent.

“I want this to work, John.” She wants to melt at the way his expression softens at her.

“I do too, sweetheart- you have no idea how much.” A sigh escapes her, already fearing that they’re back on their loop that’s been the routine for the past decade. “What’s that for, hm?” he inquires.

“I want this to work, John,” she repeats “but things have to change. I mean it.”

“ I know you do,” he assures her, reaching down to kiss her temple. “I believe you.”

She’s uncertain if her refusal to be mollified is her winding herself into a snit again, or because she’s justified in the knowledge that this isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation.

Especially when his palm drops to hover over her belly.

“You can’t try to get me pregnant if you’re not retiring from the field, John,” she asserts. “I can handle the boys, I cannot handle a fourth baby by myself.”

And much like a kind stranger trying to lure a skittish stray dog into their car, John hums in agreement.

Retirement from the military as a whole, she knows, is far too much of an ask. John has spent his entire adult life serving and it will probably take a career ending injury to get him to agree to retire outright. However she’ll happily settle for him promoting high enough that he’s not one of the first people contacted when they need boots on the ground. She just wants her husband home. She’s paid her dues being the sweet housewife raising the kids alone while he plays hero on the other side of the world. He’s beyond capable of climbing the ranks to one that involves less clandestine missions and more paperwork, and it’s absolutely infuriating that he hasn’t.

(She knows it’s not entirely a blind devotion to country and crown and preventing acts of terrorism, and the fact that he enjoys fucking off to who-knows-where at the drop of a hat- never knowing where he’ll be 24 hours from now at any given time, and he doesn’t want to give that up yet. She tries not to think about it too hard though, otherwise she’ll melt down like chernobyl.)

The hot water runs out before John’s refractory period, which is a good thing for her sake because she’s a scatter brained mess right now. The man’s not 20 and she doesn’t begrudge him the time it takes to recuperate, but she’s swinging wildly between being sappy and sentimental and wanting back what she had, and knowing full well she needs to get a grip before she does something stupid like letting John talk her into trying for a girl.

By the time they dry off and dress there are three hungry boys who are in for quite the surprise to see their dad come morning. No doubt there had been a reasonable expectation that John would leave in the middle of the night after they went to bed.

John keeps the boys distracted and out of her hair as she gets their breakfast sorted.

Before the divorce, the pair of them would go about their separate routines; making their morning caffeinated beverages of choice, idly commenting on the latest news headline, alternating getting things sorted for their children.

Now John hovers. Like he’s not entirely certain if he wants her out of his sight. He wrangles the boys to their seats as she gets their food, but it’s like one eye is kept trained on her.

Before the divorce, her children would make their protests- high pitch peals of ew! (The youngest, she suspects, merely imitating his older brothers who get a kick out of their parents' displeased stares) if they witnessed any displays of overt affection. While of course anything where they could see was kept G rated, once the boys thought something was funny they committed to the bit entirely.

Now, while she’s distracted by John giving a chaste kiss to her temple and running his hands up and down the sides of her arm, she realizes that the boys are as silent as the grave. Three sets of owlish eyes watch them intently before comically making a big show of going back to their breakfast as they realize they’re caught.

“John,” she starts quietly, eyes watching the boys before shifting her attention back to her husba- ex-husband. “We really need to talk about this. Actually talk.” Not just fuck each other silly - she knows they’ll just slip back into old habits. They need ground rules.

She knows how her husband works. If she can wrangle him into actually agreeing with a discussion, that is workable. John’s got his quirks and idiosyncrasies that she’s learned over the years. He won’t outright lie to her, he won’t go back on his word if he commits to something. But he will push and widdle and chip away at her to keep her compliant and happy enough to get off his dick (usually by putting her on his dick. Or mouth. Or hands. Or-

Anyway.)

“We will, sweetheart. Let’s just get through breakfast, hm?”

It is so familiar and yet still so different. The boys are running a mile a minute, eagerly soaking up the additional time with their father (the guilt gnaws at her- knows this could just be a normal morning. Had she either never divorced him, or kept him firmly away. This hemming and hawing that feels inevitable can not be good for the boys).

Screentime is a bit of a hot topic, but they need the boys content and quiet long enough for them to speak without interruptions.

The eldest is a bit too old for the target demographic for Bluey, but his handheld console is enough to keep him entertained.

She can’t help but feel like her oldest boy and John are conspiring- John firmly telling him “Your mother and I need to have a little talk with no interuptions. You keep an eye on your brothers, got it?” only for the oldest to salute him with a “Yes, sir!” that has John grinning as he herds her towards his office with a hand low on her back.

The click of the door sliding shut is as loud as a gunshot.

“I know I pushed too far,” John begins. The pair of them stand in front of each other. “You kept asking for the same thing over and over again. I never thought you would actually leave, but I can’t say I was surprised when you asked for a divorce. You were trying, and I wasn’t listening. I meant what I said last night. I’m not mad.”

It…. stings. Knowing the truth the whole time- John thinking he can just wait her out. That he can lean on her despite her protests and eventually she’ll give up. But it’s a dull pain, considering it’s something she’s lived with for years. She’s well familiar with it.

“So why? Why let it get that far. I know what you do is important. I know it’s selfish to ask you to give that up, but we’ve got three kids, John. You want a fourth! It is so hard to be the one who stays with them when you leave. They don’t grasp the situation. They just know that their dad’s gone and they miss you. And I cannot breathe when you are deployed and sent off to fuck-knows-where dealing with some of the most violent, dangerous groups on the planet. What if you don’t come home? How am I supposed to raise them without you?”

Sharp words coming from the same woman who kicked John out. But it’s the same story he’s been hearing for the better part of decade ever since their first was born. He can likely recite her speech from the heart at this point.

Like always, John is steadfast in the storm no matter how far into orbit she flies. He’s well acquainted with her whims, and knows just how easy it is to rile her up and yet also knows exactly how to bring her back down.

At the moment her expression is similar to that of a wet hen’s.

“I didn’t think you’d leave.” It’s the truth and she knows it and it pisses her off. “I knew you weren’t happy with it, but overall we were happy with each other. I wasn’t cheating on you. I’m not a mean drunk. I might be absent at times but I’m not cruel. I keep you happy in bed. You want for nothing. The boys know I adore them. Every marriage has its problems. I thought we both understood that the nature of my job is ours.” He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” she reiterates, and she’s not sure if her voice warbles from how angry she is at the confirmation that he thought he could wait her out until he felt like retiring (or, more likely- she buries him), or at herself because she picked him and how mad can she be when he’s been honest about his work from the start.

There’s no clear cut villain. John is right. His job has weighed down on them since the beginning. In the beginning she thought she could handle it. But three children later and she’s begun to realize- far too late- that it’s so much. Subjecting them to something they never asked for because they were born into this schedule where John is beholden to Kate fucking Laswell more than his own family (peace and love to her- she’s great but she is the walking representation of everything they are struggling with in their marriage).

Her mind is a jumbling mess, like twine that’s interlocking and needing to unravel. There’s no clear cut path forward. She will go absolutely insane if things continue on the way they have been, but the time apart has shown her that she doesn’t really want to separate from John. No other man can even come close to him.

“So now what do we do?” she asks.

John steps closer to her, reaching to run his knuckles across her cheek in affection. “I want to come home, sweetheart.”

“It’s not that easy.”

She expects some sort of protest. Some sort of Yes it can be, and she’s not sure if she’s got the mental fortitude to continue holding her ground. But she knows that nothing will change if she lets up now. This is the moment where she either needs to throw in the towel, or maybe- just maybe there’s a chance.

They’ve made it this far. But she is so tired. She can’t go back but she’s got no idea what’s ahead or how long it will take to get there.

“I know. All I’m asking for is a chance.”

“It is your last one John, I swea-” She’s always hated that stupid fucking movie trope where the man shuts the woman up by kissing her. Yet here she is, her (fragile) attempt at a stern warning cut off as John snatches her up and pulls her to him.

After last night, one would think they’d gotten enough of each other to not be groping at each other like animals in heat.

Mother fucker he’s doing it again. He doesn’t fight as she pulls away, though those pretty blue eyes are blown showing where he would have been heading had she not stopped him.

“I mean it, John. You said you want this to work, but I need to see changes. You need to be home and not fucking off half away across the world at the drop of a hat. I need to be able to make plans and know that you will be here.”

“Anything, sweetheart. I just want my family back. I swear, I’m listening this time. I’ll figure it out.”

The lust has calmed from his eyes as he approaches again, making her look up at him. “You remember our little conversation from last night?”

He looks as serious as a heart attack, and there was a lot said last night.

She’s taking too long to answer, as he continues unprompted. “I know you’re not going to sign the papers overnight, and I’m fine with that. But your ring stays on, and there are no more dates with other men. You are mine. You are not single, and I expect you to act like it, hm?”

The chaste kiss to her temple is a sharp juxtaposition to the severity of his tone. He certainly doesn’t need to tell her twice.

“I promise,” she assures him, seeing how the intensity drains out of him as he’s mollified by her words. “I know I don’t have a right to ask, but did you- was there-” the words choke as she stumbles over them. She can’t be mad. She’s got no right to- they are divorced, and he (was) single and free to do as he pleases. But the idea of John drowning his sorrows in another woman’s body makes her want to claw someone’s eyes out.

And she really should have asked before he fucked her without a condom, but hindsight is 20/20.

Despite her inability to get the words together in the right order, John seems to know her question. He pulls her close to him, tucking her under his chin.

“No, sweetheart. There was never anyone else.”

The knot in her gut unwinds a little bit. “I love you, John. I’m sorry it came to this.”

“We’ll fix it, sweetheart.”

For a moment they stand there in the quiet, but there was no telling what sort of trouble their little trio might get into if left alone for too long. When John unlocks and opens the door, they both raise an eyebrow at the sight of their youngest dashing off around the corner.

Like the three little troublemakers had tried to listen through the door (which they would not be able to do- because she has tried once or twice), and the youngest was too slow to keep up with his brothers who are perched on the couch for all the world like they never left it.

The older two try to play their hand at staying cool, although the youngest boy is giggling- enjoying his “game” of teaming up with his brothers to try and pull a fast one on their parents.

“Do you have to leave?” The question from their oldest is deliberate, and succeeds in distracting them from the fact that their kids were definitely trying to eavesdrop on a conversation not meant for young ears.

“Not today,” John answers, ignoring the sharp look she shoots his way.

It’s a delicate balancing act as they stumble through picking up the broken pieces of their marriage. John can’t prove that he’s controlling his work hours unless she lets him in the house, but does give him shit about not moving in too soon. She doesn’t want him getting comfortable or complacent and back sliding on his promise.

Of course, John gets his lick back. There had been a stern conversation about condoms until her birth control is in hand.

Only to find out at her appointment that they can’t give it to her because she’s pregnant.

Mother fucker. Damn that “one shot, one kill” motherfucker. Their one slip up was the only discrepancy since they have gotten back together- that has to be when she conceived. Why did she fall in love with a sniper?

John is ecstatic with the news, as are the boys. She feels like a wet, disgruntled hen.

The new baby throws a wrench in her plans, but she can’t quite find it in her to be too disappointed once the shock wears off. John had been set on another baby, chattering on and on about how he hopes it’s a girl. They would have had another baby at some point, it’s just a bit sooner than she was anticipating.

No doubt for the boys, the new baby is an assurance that their parents aren’t staying separated. In their simplistic view, that’s as good as ink drying on paper that they’re staying together.

At her scan when it’s revealed she’s carrying boy #4, John kisses her temple and tells her how happy he is.

The youngest daughter that he’s got his sights set on is shelved for the duration of her pregnancy, not another peep of it mentioned.

A girl would have been nice, but she’s well experienced with wrangling John Price’s sons, and no doubt this one will fall into the group just fine.

John’s got quite the track record of giving her pretty babies, which everyone praises and compliments when the little man finally makes his arrival.

When he is home (which has been substantially more, she has to admit), he’s an active and involved father who’s besotted by his children and happily splits night duty with his exhausted wife. Keeps the older boys in line and behaving.

She doesn’t sign anything until John has a signed transfer request. While he’ll still be working in counter terrorism, and still be very close with the 141, his job no longer mandates he ups and leaves at the drop of a hat.

They celebrate quietly. Friends and family have made their opinions known about the back and forth tentative future of their marriage (mostly a well intended shit or get off the pot), and they elect to drop the boys with John’s parents to have a weekend for themselves.

There are no lusty slip ups and everything is followed to the letter but she wants to kill John when he grins at her positive pregnancy test.

Everything can fail, it seems. John merely commenting “Maybe this one will be a girl”, showing his hand that he hasn’t quite given up his dreams of a youngest girl to round out their gaggle of boys.

She doesn’t want to know the gender this time around, which John grouses about but ultimately accepts.

When Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley promotes to a new rank, John is the one the man calls to ask him to participate in his ceremony.

She’s still in her second trimester, not quite teetering into her third just yet. John wants to bring the kids. If the third trimester exhaustion had stuck yet, she likely could have begged to be left out and he likely would have acquiesced. And the boys usually know better than to try anything when on base with John.

The day comes and she feels like a walking stereotype of an officer’s wife- gaggle of kids clinging to her skirt, the newest baby still clinging to her, and an unmistakable pregnancy bump.

“Cookin’ another boy in there, Mrs. Price?” Soap asks good naturedly while they’re waiting.

“Not quite sure,” she answers, eyes on her three more mobile kids making sure they’re settling in and behaving. “John’s been itching for a girl since before this one came,” she gestures to their youngest in her arms.

“Well, hopefully it’a girl then for yer sake- man’s gonna give ya a football team at this rate!” the Scot laughs, chortling at his own joke. There are times when she sometimes wonders how someone as charming as Johnny Mactavish got wrangled into clandestine counter terrorism missions, but then she remembers that as much as he can charm a bird from a tree, it’s comments like that that skirt just too comfortable that yes, he’s probably got a few screws loose. (She sometimes wonders about Kyle too, who is giving Johnny a “fucking really??” look, but can’t quite pin anything. The man is perfectly mild mannered and respectable, and she knows that their work can warp someone given enough time.)

“Hopefully so,” she answers amicably. While her pregnancy has been blessedly uneventful, she’s already over it and will be perfectly happy with this being her last.

Something tells her that John is going to get his wish, one way or another though.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

#captain john price #John Price x reader #john price x you #captain price smut #dub con #dark!fic #<- that is just my typical 'catch all' blocklist tag for anyone who doesn't wanna read anything dark/dubious/etc.#I am being conservative with using the tag pinky promise #my writing

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epithet-beloved · 3 months

Note

Could we get some parental Percy and Ramsey? If not that’s fine

PARENTAL PERCY + RAMSEY HEADCANONS

synopsis… Percy and Ramsey as your parents

ft. Percival “Percy” King, Ramsey Murdoch, Howie Honeyglow (mentioned), Meryl Lockhart (mentioned), Sergeant Eros (mentioned)

tags… parental imagine, Percy and Ramsey’s relationship is unspecified, goofy family shenanigans, some anime campaign references but no spoilers, relationship study

word count… 702

a/n… I FINALLY GOT MY WRITING SPOONS BACK BAYBEYYYYYY. Apologies for the long hiatus, but I hope you all enjoy these imagines! ✧ 🦄

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Even if Ramsey is your actual father, he still gets treated at least a little bit like a weird uncle that the rest of the family doesn’t want you associating with.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Despite some general banter, Percy trusts Ramsey with your care quite a lot after he helped her in Redwood Run, and is always fair and never presumptuous. She has quite a few ground rules, some of them a bit odd, but never unfair.

“Uhhh….Percy?” Ramsey’s confusion was met by the policewoman’s polite smile.

“Yes? Is there something you’d like to ask me about the rules?”

A nod. “Just one thing.” Despite the fact that she couldn’t see what he was pointing to, the Australian pointed to one of the lines with his index finger. “I think ‘no crayons of debauchery’ is a bit unnecessary.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Your time between the two is divvied up almost perfectly evenly, as expected of Percy’s scheduling. Sometimes, Ramsey can even go somewhere with you as long as an officer (typically Percy) accompanies you.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 On occasion, you’ll also get ‘babysat’ by Meryl or Sergeant Eros when both your parents are unavailable. Meryl can be a bit…jumpy, but typically well meaning. And Eros will let you ride shotgun if he takes you to work with him (given that the work is appropriate and something you can tag along for).

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Ramsey makes drawings of your OCs and Percy hangs them on her fridge. It’s kind of comical to see your fursona or the like hung up in her otherwise rather plain kitchen, but it’s also a sweet reminder of how she’s invested in your interests.

“I must admit, I am curious.” You perked your head up at the sound of your mother’s voice, watching as she admired one of the papers hung up with a magnet on her fridge. When she was done examining the drawing like it was some sort of specimen, she’d stand up to her full height and look your way. “Why am I drawn as a beaver in this picture?”

“Oh,” you explained between bites of food, “I always thought if you were an animal, that’s what you’d be, because you make all kinds of buildings when you’re working.”

This answer seemed to leave her pleased, almost glowing in response to your perception of her. With a hand over her heart, she spoke in a calm voice. “Ah, the beaver. Truly an industrious creature. Nature’s architect, presiding over the flowing waters, arbiting their path….”

….Well, that probably meant she was happy about the fursona you came up for her.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 I wouldn’t call Percy overprotective per se, but she is very cautious. Like if you want to ride a bike, she’ll make sure you have a helmet, knee pads, elbow pads, shoulder pads….overall, just makes sure to take all possible safety measures in a situation. She’ll never stop you from doing something you want to do within reason, she’ll just make sure she’s there to keep an eye on you.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 You’ve also likely met Howie once or twice because he’s a good friend (slash business rival) of Percy’s. He gave you a honeyed snack once. It tasted good, but the texture is…..questionable.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Despite Percy being classic lawful good, Ramsey can actually be the more reasonable one, aka having more common sense in a situation. Sometimes, parent-child bonding is just being surrounded by wackiness while both expressing complete and utter exasperation.

“Hey dad, do you know what is happening right now at all?” You loved your mother to death, but her idea of a ‘fun activity’ could often be rather strange. Like now, where she was currently trying to enforce road safety laws to the Mario Kart CPUs. While losing.

All the man could do was shake his head and crack a grin. “Eh, just roll with it, kiddo. You get used to it after a while.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 They both give headpats, but Percy’s are a sort of stiff “pat pat” while Ramsey’s is more of a noogie that messes up your hair. You don’t have the heart to say either one is better than the other, though.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 They’re both wonderful, really. Both a little weird, but that’s part of what makes your family so great.

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 request !#🦄's writings #epithet erased imagines #epithet erased #epithet erased x reader #ramsey murdoch imagines #Ramsey Murdoch #percival king #Percival king imagines #familial imagines

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megamindsecretlair · 4 months

Text

Be My Little Darling - Chapter 11

Chapter 10 Chapter 12

Pairing: Loki x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. ANGST. Dirty talk, mentions of grief and violence. Soft Loki, Jealous Loki

Summary: Loki is the exclusive owner of the hottest club in New Asgard. Dubbed the Nine Realms, each of the nine rooms represent a different realm. You are his second in command, working the floors and ensuring everyone is having fun. It has been a week since the dust up with Loki and you are not sure how much more you can take.

Word Count: 3,939k

Masterlist

A/N: I'm sorry it's been so long! My family are my opps. I will try to update this a little quicker, I'm excited to see where these two go. A little something something before we get into the nitty gritty. Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! I block ageless blogs!

Taglist: @cantstayawaycani @braverthanthenewworld @monaeesstuff @chaos-4baby @dayjlovesromance @soft-persephone @mybonafidefeelings @nerdieforpedro @browngirldominion @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide@foxherder @itzgabz22

“I hate it when Mom and Dad fight,” Sweetie muttered, just loud enough for your benefit. You ignored her just as you ignored the rest of the staff all week. They weren’t stupid, they could pick up on the tension between you and Loki.

You weren’t ignoring him, not completely. He’d throw too big of a temper tantrum. But he was also unwilling to talk about what happened when you saw Thor. You just wanted him to budge, even a little.

He had forced you to confront things you hadn’t been ready to. Forced to draw out those deep grooves in your heart and put them up to a mirror in all its ugly glory. You cried in front of him. Bared your soul and body to him in a way you never had before. And what did he do? Completely shut you out.

You couldn’t survive in half a relationship. So sue you. You weren’t a half measure type of person. You loved and hated in absolutes. You didn’t know how to give up. It was why you were still looking for your family five years later with all evidence pointing to the inevitable truth: Thanos snapped them away.

Your heart cracked thinking of such a thing. That they were just…gone. There was no body to bury, no tomb to mourn. You couldn’t accept it yet. You couldn’t look your siblings in the eyes and tell them that there was no hope left to give.

So no. You weren’t giving up on Loki and you didn’t care how old he was, how powerful, or how much he considered himself a god. He would have to use his big boy words.

“Sweetie, I’m expecting a visitor today. Please make sure to notify me,” you said. It wasn’t her job, but you smiled at her so that she got the message.

“Do we need to Parent Trap them?” Honey asked, not bothering to be subtle. She sat with her usual suspects hunched over cups of coffee, bottles of water or juice, and random pastries.

You grabbed your coffee, unable to fight the smile at the reference. Movies were something you all enjoyed once coming to Earth. As far as being stranded, it wasn’t that bad of a place to be. You all have torn through plenty of movies so far, Parent Trap being among the favorites. You were still shocked that the little girl wasn’t a real life twin.

You walked over to the table while the group looked at you expectantly. Some leaned forward as if you were going to share something juicy. Others looked almost genuinely worried for you. You hated the pity. You didn’t owe them an explanation.

“The saboteur has been too quiet lately, so make sure you keep your eyes peeled. This person likes to watch the chaos from the front seat,” you said. You smiled when they groaned and leaned back.

“Princesa, please! We cannot live like this!” Honey said, her face scrunching up comically into a heartbroken frown.

“You make it sound like we’re in Hel,” you said and chuckled.

“He’s miserable without you,” Sugar said.

You took a sip of coffee to stop yourself from going on a rant. You were their boss, not their friend. Though, some dark pleasure rippled through you at the thought of him suffering. You hoped your scent still lingered in his bed. The gods knew that you tossed and turned in your bed thinking of him between your legs.

And…that was enough of that thinking. You took a deep breath. “Loki is a god, as he likes to remind us. He’s fine,” you said.

They didn’t believe you. You didn’t give a shit. You had more pressing matters to worry about. Like supply requests and restock. A prickling awareness settled over you and you straightened up.

Eyes snapped towards the door. This was all so dreadfully dramatic. You turned towards the door and saw Loki looking as delicious as ever. He couldn’t be that miserable and still look that damn good. It was unfair. His hair should be messy, clothes unkempt. Something.

Your eyes skittered over his before you looked away. It still hurt too much that he didn’t trust you with the truth. And you weren’t the begging type. So you walked over to him. “Loki,” you said with a nod.

“Is it me or is it fucking icy right now?” You heard somewhere behind you.

“Mom and Dad need to figure it the fuck out,” you heard as well.

“Darling, good morning,” he said. He stood and stared at you, making it hard for you to deny that there was anything amiss. He also blocked the damn door.

“Morning,” you said, nodding towards the door. Loki dug his hands in his pockets. You glared at him but his face didn’t change. Nothing about him did. Your hand was beginning to shake. You longed to run your hands through his hair, pull him to you, and demand kisses and smiles.

The staff was right, this was icy. Nothing like the heat and passion he was capable of. You moved to walk past him and he cut you off.

“We have to talk about the VIP list tonight,” he said. There. A wince. A crack. A glimpse into that stormy brain of his.

“Well in hand, Loki,” you said. You smiled, turned around and bowed for the audience. “And scene. Back to work, you bunch of lazies,” you said. The tension in the room melted a fraction before you shoved past Loki and out into the hallway.

Loki trailed behind you. He made no sound but you were attuned to him like never before. You were always aware of him before. How he moved, how he talked, that smile that never failed to trick and tease. But it was amplified now. As if invisible strings connected the both of you.

“Darling, stop,” Loki said. You took a deep breath at his deep timbre. That voice. Hell, let’s be honest. Everything about him drove you crazy. And you had resisted for five long, beautiful, torturous years. It was hard to quit cold turkey.

Still you marched down the hallways towards your office. You weren’t going to make a scene here.

Loki’s strong fingers wrapped around your arms, pulling you to a halt. You swung your arms wide, careful to avoid any slippage of your coffee. You growled, facing Loki finally.

“You’re such a child,” you hissed.

“You’re the one ignoring me like one,” he said.

“I’m not ignoring you, I’m busy. Work, remember? The thing you hired me for?” You asked.

“Fine, then you’re fired,” he said.

You giggled. You immediately shut up because it wasn’t funny, not at all. You drank your coffee to hopefully scald your throat and prevent you from letting any more giggles escape. You weren’t done being angry.

“You won’t even look at me anymore,” he whispered. His hand left your arm and he brought it to your face. He stopped before touching you and you finally looked into his eyes. The sight nearly robbed you of breath.

Away from prying eyes, he let you see the raw pain. The whites of his eyes were wide, mouth straining, jaw clenching.

“Ready to talk about why you blew up at me?” You asked.

“I already said–”

“I have things to do, Loki,” you said. You turned on your heel. Turned away from that look in his eyes. If you stared too long, you’d cave. And you didn’t want to. You did the work and now he had to as well.

Loki didn’t leave it there. He followed you to your office where he waited for you to settle behind your desk. He leaned into the doorframe, watching your every move. You moved a pen here, opened a folder there. But there was no way you were getting work done while he was here. His presence made your brain foggy and hands shake.

Finally, the mounting pressure got to you. You slammed your hands on the desk and looked at him. “Why are you still here?” You asked.

He crossed his arms and took a deep breath. “I don’t like that you’re mad at me. Not when we’ve come so far,” he said.

You leveled him with a stare. “This is on you. You love to talk but won’t talk about this. With me,” you said.

“That’s not it,” he said with a scowl.

“If you won’t talk, I don’t know what to think,” you said.

His jaw flexed more as he spoke. You’d give anything to know what he was thinking, what he was running through his mind.

“Believe it or not, I have a hard time admitting faults,” he said, chuckling to cover what he said.

“So you can stick your dick in my mouth but can’t tell me what’s on your mind?” You asked.

“Don’t be so crass,” he said.

You’d have to be the bigger person here. Which you hated. But you took a deep breath and looked skyward, praying to the gods and ancestors in Valhalla for strength. “I told you no more running. I meant it. But as much as you say otherwise, I need this to be as equal as possible. You cannot demand everything from me and give none of yourself,” you said.

“People are entitled to lick some wounds in private,” he said.

“I’m not asking for every detail of your sordid history. I just want to know why you blew up at me. I only asked about why you didn’t want to speak to Thor,” you said.

Loki finally looked away from you, drawing his eyes downward. He frowned as he picked at an invisible lint on his jacket. “I can’t,” he said, with a sniff. He looked back at you briefly.

You slowly nodded. “At an impasse, then. Get out, Loki,” you said. Your voice sounded tired to your own ears. You were weary, downtrodden. Maybe it was unfair to demand so much from him, something he clearly didn’t want to talk about.

You had enough on your plate without worrying about Loki and his moods. You had decided over the course of the week that it hadn’t been a mistake sleeping with him. You had known bliss in his arms and that couldn’t really be a mistake. It just likely wasn’t going to happen again anytime soon. Not while he held on to whatever the fuck was preventing him from speaking.

Never one to listen, Loki approached your desk. He leaned over it, planting his hands on it and leaning further still. His hair dropped forward like a curtain pulling open for a dramatic scene. His face could technically qualify as a dramatic scene. So many lines and planes, mouth made for sin and eyes dancing with mischief.

“Darling, please. I–” he paused and just looked at you. His eyes moved, taking in your face. You didn’t know how you looked to him. Just another angry and bitter lover? A messy subordinate with a mouth that gave as good as it got? A once irreparably damaged Asgardian without a clue in the world?

“I don’t like this between us. I finally got you in my arms, in my bed. I finally got a peek inside and it feels like you’ve closed the doors forever,” he said.

“You’re the one unwilling to walk through it,” you said, softly.

“And have you told me everything then? Every dark and horrible secret in your past? Like where you run off to every few months, disappearing at the drop of a hat? Every scar on your skin?”

Your heart roared in your chest. It beat wildly, thumping against your rib cage. “You should know that I’ve shared far more than I ever cared to with you,” you said. You thought back to the day in his office when you finally let yourself feel.

For the first time in a long time, you stopped disassociating. Stopped trying to hold it all in. You stopped trying to take flight while your feet were planted on the ground. And he helped you.

“If you want to know where I disappear off to, I’ll tell you. It’s no secret. But only if I get to demand something too. Only if you let me in,” you said.

“Ask me for anything else,” he whispered. His voice was so soft, softer than a raven’s wing. He rounded the desk and moved to stand in front of you. He got to his knees and looked at you. He was still damn tall, practically eye level with you.

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips. “Ask me for anything else and I’ll give it. But not that,” he said.

He kept his eyes on your hand, his lips resting softly against it. You brought your other hand to push his hair behind his ear. “That is my price, Loki.”

He loosed a breath while your phone rang. The damn thing was still foreign, even after five years. You answered it. The front desk host let you know that your visitor was here.

You pushed your chair back away from Loki and moved around him. He said nothing and made no noise while you left the room. Your heart felt like a rock in your chest. Each step you took from him felt like lead in your shoes.

Still, you marched on. You walked to the front and greeted the Asgardian tracker you hired. He was impossibly tall, taller than Loki even. With smooth bronzed skin, short hair, but a host of tattoos criss crossing his bare arms. You didn’t know how he wasn’t freezing in this type of climate, but well, you weren’t going to complain.

“Erik!” You said, wide grin splitting your face and you hugged him.

He turned when he saw you, grinning. His smile was so heartbreaking. Why couldn’t you be head over heels for someone like him? He held on a second too long, having last seen him months ago.

You grew up with Erik in your village on Asgard, running through the streets and getting into all kinds of trouble together. You had entertained something between you many, many years ago, but it was clear that you were better off as friends. You had already given your heart away a long time ago.

You sat on a lounge chair in the front and tried to temper your expectations. But hope was a cruel thing. It cropped up, over and over no matter how many times you tried to squash and burn it within you. Erik settled next to you, but he wasn’t smiling.

“No word yet on your family. The universe is very large,” he said.

You nodded. You figured as much. You tried to hold it together, but throwing that door open within you opened yourself to it all. You felt the tears but you weren’t completely transformed. You blinked them away and squared your shoulders.

“I have people on it though. They’re out there,” he said.

You shook your head. “They’re not.” You took a shuddering breath at that realization. Five years was too long to keep searching for people that clearly weren’t here, wasn’t it? The fall of Asgard had to have spread by now. For half of life to be eradicated, even people who had never heard of Thanos likely knew his name now.

If not, well, they knew that those people were gone. Vanished from their lives. Turned to dust and never to be seen again. If Thor was here, all hope was truly lost. The Avengers he so affectionately ran with over the years had gone all but silent. If they were hopeless…

“Perhaps it’s time to involve Heimdall,” Erik said.

You shushed him. You didn’t need that man turning his gaze on you. He was so eerie, seeming to know so many things. His eyes, like galaxies, were far wiser than your age.

“I can’t. I can’t just walk up to him and ask. Maybe it’s time to call it,” you said. You didn’t want to say it. That same crack in your chest split wide open at the thought of stopping your search.

Erik grabbed your hand. “Hey, I’m not giving up,” he said.

You patted his hand. “I’ve taken enough of your time. You have more important people to track down,” you said. Your voice warbled. You hated this. This was why you kept this shit locked away and buried at sea.

“No one is more important than your family. They’re my family too,” he said. He scooted closer to you and drew you into his arms. You greedily took the comfort. He was always so warm and solid, giving the best hugs you’d ever known.

“My, Darling, who’s your friend?” Loki’s voice cut into what had been a sweet and peaceful moment.

You cracked one eye open, trying to disengage from Erik. But he was slower to let you go. He hadn’t missed the deadly tone of Loki’s voice. Where the hell did he come from anyway?

Erik stiffened, turning fully around to face the larger threat. Loki had a devilish smile on his face, but his eyes were seething.

“Loki, this is Erik,” you said. Before you could explain further, Erik stood up and blocked your view of Loki for a moment. Erik held out his hand and Loki shook it, keeping that smile on his face.

“Erik, haven’t seen you around,” Loki said. His eyes slid towards you and you inwardly groaned.

“Erik has–”

“I pop in every few months to check in on her,” Erik said.

“Every few months? Really?” Loki smiled at you. Shit, shit.

“He’s–”

“Any friend of Darling’s a friend of mine,” Loki said.

You narrowed your eyes at Loki. You didn’t know what game he was playing but you weren’t in the mood. “Erik has been looking into something for me. Right, Erik?” You stood up and nudged his shoulder to agree with you. His eyes were still trained on Loki. What was this, a fucking pissing match?

“I was just telling Darling that I’d like to meet more of her friends. We see so little of them,” Loki said. He sauntered around Erik, putting his arm around you. “I like to make sure she’s happy. Always.”

Your eyes bugged out of your head. Erik took in Loki’s arm around you and lifted an eyebrow. “Keeping secrets, are we?” Erik asked. He crossed his arms and stared at you, putting you on the spot.

You licked your lips slowly, trying to describe what you and Loki were to each other. Boyfriend? Boss? Occasional sadistic charmer?

Loki hugged you close and you looked at him. He smiled at you, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Didn’t tell him about me? I’m a little hurt,” Loki said. Still with that damn smile. You were starting to panic. You might’ve been a little afraid of what he’d do.

Loki moved his right hand to lift up your chin and plant a small, but sultry kiss to your lips. You gasped and he drank it down with a low hum. “Always so private,” he said against your lips.

You were going to murder him. Your hands itched with magic dancing between your fingertips. A dagger? A sword? You were going to cut him down where he stood.

“Erik, he’s–”

“Loki, of Asgard, everyone knows,” Erik said. He raised his eyebrow at you but you didn’t know what he was trying to communicate.

“Will you two shut the fuck up?!” You yelled. You drew the attention of some patrons who cast little glances towards you. The host stood in the corner with a few staff members, Honey among them, as they stared at all three of you. They saw the kiss. Your shoulders deflated. There went the little bit of respect you had around here.

“Erik is a childhood friend who has been looking for my family. They went on a trip when the Snap happened so I don’t know if they’re out there, looking for us, or if they’re gone,” your breath hitched on the word ‘gone’ but you persisted. “Loki is…Loki. We’re figuring it out. Now, say hi to Denby for me,” you said, looking at Erik who slowly smiled.

You shoved off Loki’s arm around you. “As always, you’ve gotten what you wanted and made out like a thief,” you tossed at him.

“You’re no better than he is,” you told Erik.

You stormed off. Leaving everyone in the dust. An ache thumped in your head. You needed away. Away from here with all of its bullshit.

“Darling!” Loki called after you. This time, you heard his steps behind you, heard him walking down the hall. You ignored him. Your fists clenched and unclenched. Your teeth grated. You were fuming with nowhere to direct the anger.

Loki caught up to you outside of your office once more. You pushed him when he was in arm’s reach. “What the fuck was that?!” You yelled.

You were in the back, well away from any patrons. The hallways had music playing, soft muzak that kept up the hazy and alluring vibe of the club. Each room played its own music so there was no danger of being overhead. Except the staff. You imagined the rumors flying like wildfire, distracting the staff and performers. You were going to be sick.

“A miscalculation,” he said.

“What?” You said. He swooped in and waved his stake in the air like you were some prize he won over a miscalculation?

“I didn’t know about your family–”

“You would have. I would have told you. As always, you want and you want and you-”

“I have always maintained that I want you because you’re mine,” Loki said. All sense of propriety was gone. Extra eyes be damned. He advanced on you and pushed you against the wall.

“Completely mine. Mine to do with as I please,” he said. His lips traveled from your temple down to your neck, bypassing your lips. Your body instantly reacted. Craved him. Craved another hit of what he could bring you.

You grabbed his jacket and turned around, pushing him against the wall. He grinned as if he won. As if you would give in and forget all about your ultimatum. You licked the long expanse of his neck and his breath fanned over your skin.

You pulled back and smiled at him. He grinned back, hanging his head and looking up at you through his pretty eyelashes. Then you slapped the smirk right off of his face. He licked his lips as if he meant to taste the sting. You raised your arm again and he caught your wrist.

“Darling, not in mixed company,” he said. He gave you a wink. “Save it for later.”

“You are the most arrogant, infuriating, child-like, obnoxious–”

“Do keep going,” he interrupted.

“Confusing man I’ve ever met! You irritate the fuck out of me! You…bastard,” you said.

“I don’t know how else to be,” he said.

You yanked your wrist out of his hand. You were breathing too heavy. You couldn’t get enough air in your lungs. You wanted to smack him. You wanted to curse him. You wanted to toss him into hot lava and see if he’d melt. You wanted to kiss his stupid face.

“We promised no lies between us. And if you can’t give me that Loki, you can’t have me.”

He opened his mouth to say something, all hints of playfulness gone. But then the lights went out and the screaming started.

Masterlist | Chapter 10 | Chapter 12

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Loki Files #Loki x Black!reader #Loki x Black reader #x Black reader #Loki x Fem!reader #Loki x Fem reader #Loki x reader #Loki x you #Loki imagine #MCU Loki #Loki #Loki of Asgard #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson #Loki fanfic #Loki fanfiction #Loki fan fiction

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eyesofshan-if · 5 months

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I was inspired by another ask but what would the ROs be like as parents? I feel like Hansol would be an amazing dad but I also think he would be amazing at any and all things

hansol: all round amazing father. makes sure to spend lots of time with his kids — the kind to dote on his daughters and be more playful with his sons. to him, how successful you can be in life is of secondary importance to the development of one's character, so that is the only reason he would actually get angry with his children. the type of father that you know that you can always lean on for support

yongsun: the relaxed parent who sneaks their child the occasional sweet amd somehow always knows when something is up with them, even after they enter the reclusive teenage phase. most likely would be too busy to spend much time with them, but makes sure that every second they spend together counts. very focused on helping them develop their own critical thought and outlook on the world, but also encourages them to find their own foothold in life. "a person should have at least one thing they can do with confidence."

wooyoung: playful dad who would follow the kids on all their adventures. jump into mud? sure! climb this tree? watch how fast i am. tickle fight? oh, all of you are going down. very physically and verbally affectionate. will argue with his kids about who you love more, and will tell them that it's him. competes with them to see who can show you more love. it's so cute it's unbearable to watch

makes sure that his children know that he loves them no matter what — who they are or what they become isn't important to him — it is enough that they are his children

raon: the awkward mother who tends to leave the emotional dealings of her children to her partner. the type to scold you for being an idiot and then leave health-boosting medicine or sliced fruit out for you afterwards. doesn't spend that much time with her kids and isn't one for being affectionate, but the way she shows love is by sharing knowledge, encouraging them and teaching them anything that they want to know. like yongsun, she encourages them to think for themselves, but is more likely to focus on the critical part of how they view the world

noeul: tries. not great by any measure, but they try. expects too much of their child, because that's what they expected of themselves when they were younger. can get too physical with punishments, because they remember that pain was their best teacher. noeul's childhood was rather messed up, and their view on love and affectionate quite terribly skewed. assuming that they've worked out the tangled ball of unresolved trauma (noeul would never want a child otherwise), their partner would still have to do some heavy lifting at the beginning

????: surprisingly normal parent in comparison to how un-normal they are about the commander. a nice balance. not overly affectionate, but not distant either. emotionally present when you need them. strict sometimes, gentle at times. raising a child is like fighting a war that requires different tactics and skills — and they make sure that they will win on every single front

#asks #o: wooyoung's letters #hansol #wooyoung #yongsun #raon #noeul #????

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doberbutts · 4 months

Note

I just wanted to say thank you for the post about the safety precautions video. I take a lot of similar precautions (I have the same portable door lock) because of my PTSD and OCD and the fact my abuser knows where I live. I even have an emergency escape plan out a window and onto the roof! I live in a really poor area with a lot of violence, there's been three murders on this street in the last couple years and our cars been vandalised recently. I know what people are *trying* to make a point about in that post, but it does make me feel bad seeing such overt mocking. So I really appreciate you pointing out so much of this can also come from genuine trauma not just "watching too much true crime"! I hope you have a good day 💖

Yeah it's always obvious to me that the folks who think some of this stuff is silly or overkill have never really lived through a situation where that could have been a life or death thing. Which, honestly, that's great for them! I wish everyone could live somewhere that they did not have to fear break-ins and active threats on their lives! But that's also unfortunately not where everyone lives and that does include white people (although the point about it being weaponized unfairly against people of color, poor people, and disabled people, the populations that are the most at risk of this type of violence, is also extremely valid)

It's similar to my discussion about weapons, arming yourself, and self-defense. It is all good to say that most people in this country will never actually need to defend themselves from this type of harm. It's also untrue to say that it never happens, because it has happened to me, it has happened to my friends, and it has happened to people I know even only tangentially.

I have a doberman in part because I want a dog that has a fairly decent chance of biting the fuck out of someone who breaks in to hurt me. I carry a weapon everywhere and I took a fairly serious self-defense class. Why? Because when I was in college, a drunk man repeatedly tried to break in while I was sleeping and I have no idea if he would have hurt me if that door had actually opened. My parents' house was broken into while we were home when I was still a child, and my sister was sitting only a few feet from the door when it swung open. Between her scream and our dog coming barreling down the stairs at him, he chose to flee, but what if he hadn't? What if she'd been in bed like the rest of us were, away from the door? What if we hadn't had the dog, or if she hadn't heard my sister and come charging in ready to defend her family?

Someone broke into my mom's dorm when she was in college and stood next to her bed touching himself. He did not ever touch her, and she reported it the next morning, after laying awake frozen in fear all night about what could have happened. Multiple someones broke into my aunt's dorm at a completely different college and did touch her, for hours, and she was found the next morning as a beaten and bloody whimpering mess. My aunt has severe PTSD and was diagnosed with schizophrenia shortly after. She never had symptoms before, but now she sees those men everywhere she goes. My other sister was beaten to a bloody pulp by her former partner and spent many years looking over her shoulder expecting to see him reappear. My dad was shot in the arm just walking down the street from his mom's house to his school due to gang violence and watched a man die on the same block as his mama's doorstep, and now has a ritual every night of checking each and every door and window despite living more than two hours away from that neighborhood 40 years later.

I am glad that so many people have never had to consider protecting themselves from this kind of violence. I am glad that the crime statistics say that this type of violence is becoming more and more uncommon. I am still going to lock my house up and install security measures and keep a weapon on me and know how to defend myself with it and teach my dog to bite the fuck out of anyone who walks through that door. Mostly because I remember being a terrified teenager holding the hammer out of my toolbox to my chest and staring at my fire escape door until the banging stopped at 3 AM.

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tgmsunmontue · 2 months

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More than movie magic... 7/24

Hangster AU. Explicit (eventually). Jake is a Hollywood actor and Bradley is a stunt coordinator. Jake's about to make a few self-discoveries. So is Bradley.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX

Jake arrives late, so late it might even be early, he doesn’t even know what time it is, but he’s exhausted, his feet feel like they have lead weights attached to them as he walks from his car towards his parents’ house. The porch light is on and when he sees the kitchen light flick on, he knows he’s woken someone else up with his arrival. Too late to do anything about that now. The light in the entry way flicks on and he scrunches his face at the sudden bright light, looks through squinted eyes and sees the bright purple of his mom’s dressing gown.

“Hey mom…”

“Honey, we didn’t expect you to get home tonight.”

He withstands the hugs, the pats to the face and then another hug, like she has to reassure that every part of him is there and in one piece.

“Yeah, I probably should have stayed somewhere, I’m pretty beat.”

“Jake,” she says, and it’s laced with care and disappointment in equal measure, and he knows he’ll never look after himself quite the way she wants him to. “Come on, you go have a shower. I’ll bring your bag in.”

“I can do that mom.”

“I don’t think you’re going to manage staying awake in the shower, so how about you go prove me wrong on that account, hmm?”

He huffs in amusement and does as he’s told. He’s glad he’s here for the next couple of months, all the comforts of being at home but also working. It’s going to be a weird sort of working vacation, although he’s glad he has a back-up trailer organized for when he start going stir-crazy from living with his parents again. He knows himself well enough to know that his limit is usually a couple of weeks. He showers, and he won’t ever admit to his mom that he does indeed doze a little under the spray. His bed feels luxurious after weeks of staying in hotel rooms and he’s asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

He wakes the next morning and burrows back under the covers. He has a read-through that afternoon, timed for after his arrival that was meant to be later this morning. They really aren’t expecting him until after lunch today so he could just… hide away this morning. God it’s tempting. His bags are sitting at the end of his bed and he doesn’t really need anything in them, his bedroom here fully set-up as a home away from his home in LA.

He can spy the sunny day outside and he knows he can’t lie around in bed all day, swings his legs out and kicks off the sheet as it twists around his bare leg. Riding. He could go riding. Yeah, that’s even better than staying in bed. He pulls on some of his older clothes, worn and comfortable, already looking forward to the familiar ache he knows a couple of hours of riding will bring him. He needs to get used to riding every day as soon as possible.

His dad is sitting in the kitchen, quietly sipping his morning coffee and he stands to give Jake a hug when he sees him. He pours himself his own cup and enjoys the quiet, his dad isn’t given to speaking when there’s nothing to be said and they spoke on the phone only a few days ago.

“I’m just going to go and ride. I’ll be back for lunch.”

“Hmm. It’s good to have you home. Enjoy the ride.”

Jake grins and grabs his hat, still hanging near the backdoor and placing it on his head before heading for his parents’ stable where they keep the family horses. The ones his mom has a sentimental attachment to for whatever reason. His horse, Dasher, long ago retired and now gone for a couple of years isn’t there, but he does a double take because there is a horse in the stall that his parents always called his. Written on the board out front is Blitzen and he knows that Dasher must have been her dam, too similar to not be even if the name wasn’t a damn give-away. It’s clearly meant to be a surprise for him and he wonders instantly how she handles. God it’s going to be good to find out.

He brushes her down and then saddles her up and everything Is laid out perfectly, like they were waiting for him, knowing he’d immediately want to get out and go riding. He swings himself up and heads outside, settling into the rhythm of riding and he can’t wait to go a little faster, she was put in his stall for a reason. He enters the arena and of course it’s full of people, he can’t do any serious practice with all these people milling about and he can see Javy and Callie, both riding horses and looking comfortable, which is a big improvement considering Javy had rung him and bitched him out about having to learn to ride a horse after all their years of friendship.

Oh.

Bradley’s here.

Of course he’s here. Jake asked for him. Well, suggested.

He hadn’t calculated for any of this. Seeing Bradley on a horse, that’s… okay, none of this is a normal reaction and he’s clearly still just as intrigued, obsessed, infatuated… Fucked if he knows. God he wants him. So much. He’s allowed to want him, but he can’t act on that if Bradley isn’t available. Asking is just too… awkward. Blatant. He’s used to other people making the first move, being more interested in him. He’s not sure if the fact that Bradley isn’t or doesn’t seem interested is part of the appeal, but he doesn’t think so. Bradley just being himself, capable and confident just turns him on. A lot. Too much for his own good.

“Bradley. Hi. You look pretty comfortable.”

“Jake… Hi. Yeah, she’s a smooth ride.” Jake bites back the immediate retort of saying he’ll show him a smooth ride, and god, it’s like he’s in a bar flirting with a guy, rather than at work and needing to be professional. He really needs to get a grip, remind himself he’s here to work. Even if he’s in the one place where he’s the most comfortable, the one place he’s never felt he needed to hide or hold back, he needs to hold himself back from Bradley Bradshaw.

PART EIGHT

#Hangster #Sereshaw #more than movie magic #Top Gun Maverick

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red-bat-arse · 7 months

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Switch Yourself Part One

Steddie -Alpha/Beta/Omega

What if you spent your whole life feeling like some part of you was wrong, despite everyone telling you otherwise? What if you just never thought too much about something most people felt an innate connection to? And what if after everything got turned upside down, and then switched around for good measure, you found each other?

Or, there was an Alpha and an Omega, but by the time they got to know each other they had to do so as an Omega and an Alpha.

Part One/Part Two/Part Three

As a kid, Steve learnt about presentation from his family and friends first, and from school much, much, later.

The wives tale went that you could start to predict it as early as age two or three, which was about when children really grew into their mobility, being able to run and use more complex toys. For Alphas, they developed an aversion to the nest, trying to get out of it as often and as early as possible; for Betas, it was indifference, being just as happy outside as they were within it; and for Omegas, it was wanting to stay in the nest or help maintain it, or even simply when a baby took longer to crawl than others. Steve's grandmother loved to pinch his cheek and tease him about how he threw them off for so long by crawling backwards, but that it all worked out in the end.

They knew Steve would be an Alpha like the rest of his family. And they were right -at least, physically.

It was easy to ignore while he had his parents at home, caring for him and discussing their expectations for his life. Richard Harrington was an Alpha son of an Alpha son, and made it clear by the time Steve was six that he expected the same when Steve got older. Steve always expected that he wouldn't have trouble fulfilling what his family wanted, and that one day he'd chuff at someone and then have a rut triggered, and it would only be a matter of time before he settled down with a girl and they had a few pups. It was easy to ignore the way the thought always left him wrong footed.

He didn't know if he believed in that old wives tale, but after his childhood nest was dismantled he always felt empty and wanting. He did his best not to focus on it -to throw his attention into running around town with his friends and sports and eventually into taking pretty girls on dates. It was easy to let his natural confidence take over and push him into the stereotype of the jock-Alpha, comfortable being in charge and charming those in his circle, keeping everyone in line and on track. It wasn't really a hardship, he genuinely acted that way and so it wasn't a surprise when he started dating Nancy and let out a rough, deep chuff one night after a date.

But the thing was, when no one was home and he let himself zone out in his bedroom, his mind wandered to the hall closet where the extra pillows and comforters were stored. When he thought about his future, and the big family he wanted, it wasn't some unknown Omega he envisioned inviting him into their nest when the time was right. He didn't want to chuff at someone when he really let himself dream.

Even as his body slowly began to shift further and further along towards presenting as an Alpha, all Steve could think about was building a nest for himself, and one day letting an Alpha into it.

School taught him a bit better than his family, and Nancy too when it was clear after that first harrowing experience with the upside down that she was also showing signs of being an Alpha. Where primary sex was more or less straightforward, secondary sex was fluid and, though not exactly common, could change if there were major stressors in your life. It took awhile for the physical changes to solidify, so there were cases of a Beta turning into an Alpha or Omega based on their pack's needs, even up to when they were thirty years old.

Steve took the information in, but it never really clicked that it might affect him directly. Not until-

The Russians, and the torture, and the fire. Tossing and turning in his bed, in agony, until he heard someone calling from downstairs and he woke up enough to see Robin in the door to his bedroom. Until she came in and felt his forehead and hissed in sympathy at his temperature.

She spent a few minutes getting him water and a cool cloth for his face, helping him sit up to drink and choke down some pain meds. Steve felt delirious and when she tried to say something about going for food, he whined in the back of his throat like a little pup.

"Steve?" Robin whispered, and he tried to move his head to find where she was in the dark but he ended up flinching, his whole skull throbbing. "Steve, what's wrong? Please say something."

He opened his mouth and, mortifying, a sob was what came out. Robin sucked in an alarmed breath and it was like Steve couldn't hold himself back -he keened and reached out blindly, finding her hand with his own and a blanket with the other, pulling both towards himself desperately. Robin allowed him to wrap her up in his arms and kind of haphazardly drape the blanket over them, and it didn't feel like what he needed but it soothed his brain enough that he stopped shaking him.

"Steve, hey, it's okay, you're okay," Robin tried to comfort him, obviously anxious but her hands came up to run over his scalp and pet at his face. "If I'm okay you're okay, right? We're out of that place and you're going to be fine and we're both going to be okay."

She instinctively purred at him, and his mind said to chuff back, to reassure her he was okay, but that was wrong, it wasn't what he needed. Steve whined and hugged her tight, a sharp pain in his throat, and then he- he-

He chirped. It was strangled and miserable and it hurt, but what came out of his mouth was definitely the response Omegas were known for, and not the noise he should've made. Under his arms Robin stilled in surprise and Steve keened again, this time in confusion.

"Steve?" Robin asked, just as confused, but then she shook her head and pushed herself up -Steve forced his eyes open no matter the pain that shot through his head and watched her take him in with sharp eyes. He followed her head as it swivelled from the pillows pushed to the headboard and the blankets kicked to the sides of the mattress, and then down to the most embarrassing part, the shirts and sweaters that belonged to his parents he'd dragged in here in his pain induced haze when he'd been dropped off a few days ago. When he thought that, just like last year, he could handle the recovery on his own.

"Oh, Steve," she breathed out, a purr on the end of his name. "Let me fix things, one sec."

Steve shook his head, but Robin was already up and moving. She pulled his closet door open and grabbed his extra linens, bunching them up in a weirdly coordinated way before layering them overtop of his set up and tucking things in so they were more secure. Then she moved the pillows better, took a few and put them with the clothes near the foot of the bed, and at the headboard squished in some of Steve's sweaters; then with a nervous look, she stripped off her jacket and tucked it in too. Steve let out another quiet sob but made sure to nod his approval before she could second guess it -it was right, it was right.

"You were trying to nest, weren't you?" she asked quietly, crawling back in, once again accepting Steve's grabbing hands with grace. She was purring up a storm, and Steve's first instinct was to deny it but he let out another of those miserable chirps and her purring got louder. Steve had never been near a Beta who wanted to soothe before, and without his input his chest started hiccuping and forcing more chirps out. He still hurt from his injuries, but a big part of him was starting to settle.

"Okay, I can talk enough for us both," Robin tried to joke -Steve couldn't help but think it was cool she could talk and purr at the same time. "I think you're an Omega, Steve. I know," she pet his hair firmly when he whined in distress. "I know, I smelled you before and got Alpha, but -I mean, you also kind of weren't? I noticed it the first day we were on shift together, most of the time you were signaling Alpha, but there were more and more times I couldn't get a lock on it. I think I only noticed because I was around you all day."

Steve clung, not even able to feel embarrassed. Something had clicked between them over the course of Russian torture and the bad trip and the aftermath, and if there was anyone who it was okay to tell, anyone who Steve was pretty sure wouldn't judge him...

"I'm... maybe?" he cringed. "I don't know what's happening. I always wanted... I always wanted a nest. Pups and... and an Alpha," Robin made an encouraging sound, and it felt a little easier to keep talking. "But I'm an Alpha. Everyone knows I am, my parents expect me to be, and -and I used to chuff with Nance. I mean, I never got, uh, y'know-"

"Got it," Robin assured him before he forced himself to say a rut.

He nuzzled her shoulder in thanks. "But that's like, the only thing? So what's -I mean, do I -do I smell like an Omega now? Why do I-" He wasn't sure why he was freaking out. "Robin?"

"You're like one of those frogs in biology," she said out of left field -Steve sputtered in confusion. "Junior year biology? The secondary sex course?"

"I barely passed that year."

"Okay, well, there's frogs that switch sexes if there's a problem with the population, too many males or the opposite," she pressed on. "We can do something similar with presentation. Packs that have an Alpha but no Omega, sometimes a Beta becomes one, or vice versa. It's leftover from a recent ancestor."

"But I'm not a Beta. And I don't have a pack, not really," his parents certainly didn't count anymore, despite the front they kept up in public, and the kids, well-

"It happens to non-Betas too, Steve. And there's, uh, self-switching," Robin made a little weird chuckle. " You don't need to have any pack at all to do that. Like, mmh, studding, but you don't have a partner for it."

The absurdity of Robin talking about studding of all things broke Steve out of his fugue for a moment. "Robin Elizabeth Buckley! Studding?"

She smacked his shoulder lightly. "Get your head out of the gutter, my mom's a biology professor, dingus," Steve drew back enough to see her face and the red blush that crept up to her hairline. "Don't try and distract me. I think you self-switched. Here, let me-" she ducked down to his neck, and took a deliberate sniff, "-yeah, that smells -wow, well, first of all you need a shower, but that's definitely Omega."

"Fuck you?" she laughed at that, and Steve -he felt a bit better, but his hands still curled anxiously in the blanket over them.

He'd always wanted a nest, but he'd been afraid to make one. Afraid that it wouldn't come naturally like people talked about, or his Alpha instincts would override whatever desire he possessed for such a simple comfort and it would dissipate the second he actually put one together. He never let himself think about pups too closely, in case his carefully put together future of an Omega mate and the children they'd have morphed into something less acceptable. Let alone the idea of a chase, and which side of it he wanted to be on. He'd been afraid to think about a lot of stuff he wanted.

But they'd seeped into his life either way, hadn't they? Alphas didn't latch onto caring for stray children, didn't fuss with their looks and strength to attract a mate, didn't go nuclear with protective instincts when their pack was threatened. He was the quintessential mama bear stereotype -but mama bear had always been an Omega in the bedtime story.

Alphas guided and built the pack, Betas mediated and made it cohesive, and Omegas nurtured and protected it from harm.

"I turned into an Omega because I wanted to be one so bad?" he asked, curling in on himself. The nest around them made him feel safe, at least. "I thought I'd just, have to deal with it. Wanting it."

"Steve, come back here," Robin reached out and pulled him back into the hug, and they laid down in the nest together. "You're never going to have to deal with anything by yourself with me around, okay? Cause -cause I wanna be in a pack with you. it'd be just you and me?" she sniffled a bit, and now they were just being ridiculous, both of them crying in a cobbled together nest. "But I think it'd be nice. Platonic packmates for life."

Steve chirped again, louder and clearer than before, and forced himself to speak around the sound, "Yeah. Yeah I think I'd like that."

Robin didn't leave his house for another week after that; caring for him while he was sick and doing research on his switch so he didn't have to track down another Omega to show him the ropes. Her mother's notes and lectures helped a lot, and when Steve couldn't get up from bed she sat and read them out to him and wrote down stuff he'd have to remember or thought was interesting.

For instance, if he was making Omega noises, that meant his body was changing enough that specific parts of it worked differently than before. If he'd never trigger a rut, that probably meant he'd eventually go into heat, which was a bit of a daunting prospect. They quickly got over any squeamishness between them when it came to talking about sex and bodily functions, because as soon as Robin told him that Steve's brain spiraled.

He was going to have to go on birth control -or at least, if he decided there was someone he wanted to spend his heats with he would have to. He was also going to have to be much more scent conscious, given that Alphas and some Betas could get an inkling of his mood if it was strong enough. In courting, Alphas often made the first move, but that was generally because they could tell instantly if an Omega was interested based on the note or amount of scent an Omega let out around them. He might not be able to chuff anymore, but he could chirp, and purr and growl like normal, and maybe even trill if he practiced, since that was the hardest sound for someone with partially developed Alpha vocals to switch to.

The more... physical changes would come with time. When Steve went back to the doctor to check that his cracked rib was healing well, he mentioned the switch -not something Dr Corben was happy with him keeping quiet about for the few weeks it took. But he gave Steve a better timeline after running some tests, and a few pamphlets that were easier for him to work through on his own than Robin's mum's notes.

It was going to be interesting how his body developed over the next while. The doc said it would be easier since he'd never had a rut before, but he'd still have some pain given his muscle and fat would settle differently, his teeth and jaw might shift, and biggest of all, he'd develop a more or less typical male Omega anatomy.

Male and female Betas were the most common, with male Alphas, who had an external knot, and female Omegas, with twice yearly heats, the most common after that. Female Alphas were next, with male Omegas as the rarest, but only a little bit more so -they both had a harder time becoming and getting someone else pregnant, given the mix of developed reproductive organs that often didn't match completely how doctors thought they would. It was only female Betas and Omegas who didn't develop a dick, but if male Alphas averaged 7 inches and Betas 5, female Alphas and male Omegas averaged 3 -so Steve's might shrink a bit, but they would have to wait and see. And they each had a uterus and vagina -well actually everyone did, but if your presentation 'locked' for a certain amount of time, or generally anyone older than thirty, the irrelevant parts would grow vestigial since they weren't in use. Steve's were still in working order, so it might take awhile, but he'd eventually be able to have kids if he wanted them.

He was really glad he wasn't listening to wives tales about everything this time around. Because according to the doc, that was actually the clearest indication for certain presentations before it happened, not the nesting habits of toddlers -early vestigial atrophy.

"Well, but it's still only a guess. Look at me," Steve said absently, half his attention on folding laundry and half on the conversation he was having with Dustin. The kids had finally wised up to his switch when they came by after he was all healed up, but only Dustin was interested in talking about the particulars. If it got the kid's mind off of Hopper's death and the Byers' moving away, Steve would indulge him the less private stuff.

"I wonder if there's been any studies done on this," Dustin tapped his pencil on his notepad. "Like, you had Omega instincts all this time but got Alpha physical stuff. That implies it's not solely hormones that drive secondary instincts. Maybe it's partially coded in your DNA!"

"Big words, bud," Steve joked, and Dustin tossed one of his pencils at him. "Doc didn't really say. You should talk to Rob or her mum about it."

Dustin slumped over the table, writing something down -how the kid managed to give attitude for such a simple motion, Steve would never know. He loved him for it though. "I'm just saying, it's cool how different it can be person to person. You've been saying you changed because you 'wanted to be an Omega', but it sounds to me like you were already an Omega, your body just presented wrong. Stress switching is a thing, maybe your body unconsciously course corrected after, uh, the mall."

"Never thought of it like that. Doc said there's not much difference between self- or stress-switching, anyhow. He thinks I must've started a few weeks before that, though."

Right about when he'd left high school for good and his parents came home and did nothing but pick at him over every perceived failure. His grades, his health, his relationship status, his partial pack bond with the kids; the job at Scoops was a way to get them to leave him alone at the very least. Now, well, they hadn't come back since he'd been in hospital, but they'd certainly padded his bank account a bit, maybe out of guilt. Steve was trying not to care.

He was really trying hard not to panic at the thought of them finding out about his self-switching, at what they'd say about him now that the only thing he'd ever gotten right was gone. He was talking with Owens about getting some sort of deal on an apartment as soon as possible as part of his medical expenses, given that concern.

"Hm. Not like it matters, Steve," Dustin nodded once, decisively, and Steve made an inquiring noise in the back of his throat. "It like, suits you. Even when we first met I never really thought you'd be an Alpha. Now it makes sense."

Steve laughed at the way Dustin nodded his head again, like he was making some big statement. He really loved this pup.

Now Eddie, he'd never given presentation much thought except to figure out how much weed to smoke to curtail his heat-cramps.

I don't do tag lists!

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #fanfic #trans stuff #trans alpha/beta/omega stuff #alpha beta omega #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #omegaverse

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armins-main-hoe · 1 year

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Odd socks

Chapter 5

Previous | Next

“You did what?” Neteyam hissed.

“Threw a small shell at him.” Y/n mumbled. She had been stood her for a whole 10 minutes being forced to explain what happened with Ao’nung to Neteyam because someone could not keep their mouth shut. That someone being-

“No, it was a big red one! If she had not thrown it at him then we would have won, the competition.” Tuk boasted, expecting her older brother to be jealous or praise her but instead she got a strong glare from her older sister.

“Tuk you aren’t helping-”

“Y/n why would you throw- Okay, I can understand you verbally cursing at him but getting physical? We have not even been here for that long and he is the olo’ekytan’s son. Do you not realise the trouble this could get our family in? We are in a vulnerable position right now!” Neteyam held Y/n in her place by the shoulders when she tried to walk away.

“He is not going to tell anyone! Why would he when if the adults were to ask what happened they would find out what he said? They would find out that he was being a dickhead!”

“They would also find out that you hit him. Even if it turned into a fight where he would hit you back, you hit him first and that is all it would take for this clan to think our family is dangerous, that we react violently to anything. You think they would let us stay here a second longer?”

“Neteyam, he was getting on my nerves and Tuk was there too!”

“So, you hit him with a shell? That was the best thing to do?”

“Yes.”

“No! No Y/n you do not do that. Why can’t you ever understand? You know, sometimes I wonder whether you and Tuk are the real twins because you act like you are her age by acting so reckless and never thinking with your head. If he got on your nerves, then all you had to do was swear at him and then walk away.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, ever since they were little Neteyam loved playing the third parent and bossing all their younger siblings around including her.

“I do not understand why you are getting so worked up about this. It really is not that big of a deal!”

Neteyam’s lips tightened, and his nostrils flared. She never will understand him, and he believes she has never even tried to.

“Right because Father threw a shell and the Olo’ekytan’s face to make him let us stay here and he even was ready to throw in a few punches for good measure.” Sarcasm spilled out from Neteyam’s voice, thinking if a simple explanation cannot get to the girl’s head, then maybe this can.

“Ugh, so you are telling me you would have just said ‘go away Ao’nung’ and walked away? Really? Because that would have worked.” Y/n asks him, her ears flickering as her brows furrowed. Why is Neteyam getting so worked up over this? She does not understand.

“Yes. I would have avoided conflict because I care about this family and not just myself.” The twins were the same height yet somehow with those words it felt like Neteyam was towering over Y/n, as if he were the bigger person.

To Neteyam, he had always felt that he understood his parents’ worries and warnings, he understood that the rules his parents set in place must be followed to keep everyone safe and maintain peace. Yet Y/n never understood this. He tried his best to explain to her that rules are meant to be followed for a reason, but she never listens. Just like now. She will never listen. Which is why he grew up to be the obvious third parent. The one his younger siblings could lean on when their parents were not around.

He knew Y/n cares and loves his younger siblings as much as he does but that does not mean she can go around acting like them. She must act her age as the eldest daughter, yet she chooses not to. He knows that she is a skilled hunter, an excellent climber and even better at riding an Ikran but he often wonders when she will be a responsible older sister.

“You think I do not care? Do you really think I did what I did because of my own selfish reasons?” Y/n spoke softly, her voice conveying the pain she felt from his words. She pushed his hands off her.

“Your actions proved plenty.” Neteyam looked away. The two stood in silence for a few seconds before Neteyam walked away.

“I don’t understand him!” Y/n shouted at none but herself as she stood alone in the mauri pod.

---

Tuk had ran out of the mauri pod when she heard Neteyam raising his voice and Y/n doing the same. She had seen them argue before over small matters which would get resolved within the next hour, but she had never seemed them both this angry at each other and it frightened her. When she told Neteyam about what Y/n did to Ao’nung, she thought he would be proud of Y/n like she was. When Tuk was with her older sister and Ao’nung and his friends approached them, she did not like it at all. Even though they were smiling at her, she did not like them talking to her, they had mean smiles. They even said some mean things about Y/n and her hands.

Tuk never saw anything wrong with Y/n, Lo’ak and Kiri’s hands. She did not think anything of it. So, when she heard Ao’nung’s friends talking about her sister like that, she did not understand why. When Y/n had pulled Tuk by her arm to make Tuk stand behind Y/n, Tuk felt safe. She felt as if Y/n was her shield from the mean bullies even though they said nothing to Tuk and everything to Y/n.

She thought Y/n was brave when she threw the shell at Ao’nung. So why was Neteyam so angry? She does not like it at all when they fight.

It does not matter, she does not like the two of them arguing so she goes to find her other siblings or her parents who can stop them. She did try to stop them, but her voice was not reaching their ears.

As she ran, she ran past a a conversation she could not help but listen in to. So, she stopped and hid her body behind the mauri wall and peeked over the side of it to see who was talking.

“OW! Tsreiya be careful!” Ao’nung whined.

“I’m sorry brother, but I need to apply some at least a little pressure,” Tsireya sighed. She had tried to help her brother with the mysterious bruise on his left cheek, but he was being exceedingly difficult. “Listen, if you don’t stop whining then I will go get mother and tell her to do this for you instead.”

“No! Do not get mother, she will ask too many questions.”

“Remind me, how did you get hurt again?” Tsireya asked as she continued placing the cold pouch of stones on Ao’nung’s cheek.

“Was playing with the boys and got hurt.”

“Yeah, but how?”

“One of them accidently threw a shell at me.”

Tsireya lifted the pouch and looked at him questionably.

“A shell? You are telling me a shell did this to you?”

“That's what I said.”

Tuk let out a squeak when Ao’nung caught her eyes. He narrowed his eyes into a glare and Tuk felt a cold shiver run down her spine.

‘He is scary. Too scary.’ She thought as she broke into a sprint back to her mauri.

“What was that noise?” Tsireya looked behind her and walked around the mauri to see where the noise came from. When she stuck her head outside, she saw Tuk running away. “Why is she running away?”

“Beats me.” Ao’nung shrugged.

Tuk had forgotten why she had even run out of the mauri in the first place when she had entered it again and found Lo’ak sitting in the corner, fiddling with something. She walked up to him and sat in the space next to him. His fingers toyed with a little blue shell that sparkled whenever the sunlight fell upon its surface.

‘A shell.

Y/n hit Ao’nung with a shell.

Y/n and Neteyam had a fight because of it.’

“What’s wrong tuk?” Lo’ak asked when she had been silent for far too long. Tuk leaned her head on his arm.

“Socks hit Ao’nung with a shell.” She told him.

“He probably did something to deserve it.” Lo’ak snorted.

“Neteyam got angry though. Him and socks had a fight. They both were really angry and were shouting at each other really loudly. I did not like it.” Tuk kept her eyes on the little blue shell in Lo’ak’s hands as she spoke, still leaning her head on his arm. Soon Lo’ak stopped fiddling with the shell and pulled his little sister into a hug.

“It’s fine, they’ll make up soon.” He told her. Though he was a little shocked to hear the twins had a fight. He knew that this is not the first time they ever fought but previous fights had been over ‘I did this last time so now it’s your turn’ and a few were ‘wow, you’re really bad at this.’, though these fights never lasted long and the two would apologise rather quickly and get on their day as normal. So, to hear they were shouting at each other to the point where it scared Tuk must mean that this was an argument that they took rather seriously.

Either that or Tuk was exaggerating, which she often did.

“Hey, do you want this? I found it when I went swimming with Tsireya.” Lo’ak offered the little shell to her. Tuk took it from his hands and played around with it. It was smooth in some areas but textured in others. Still, it was a very pretty shell which would go nicely as a hair ornament. She thanked him and got up to carefully place holes in the shell so she could thread her hair through it.

Lo’ak watched tuk play around with the shell and tried to think whether the fight his older siblings had was really all that bad. He began to think that it was not and when the fight was told from Tuk’s eyes, it seemed worse than it was.

However, Lo’ak began to question himself later that day when the whole family came back together for dinner. Neteyam and Y/n were not saying a word to either each other or anyone else. They would only speak when spoken too. Lo’ak went up to his brother, who was helping his mother with cutting up pieces of fish. He nudged him and gave him a questioning look. Neteyam just shook his head at him and went back to his work, refusing to give a verbal explanation.

Lo’ak then went to his older sister, who was with her father, helping him clean the weapons and tools that were used that day. Lo’ak sat down next to her and whispered a ‘hey.’ She looked up from the knife she was cleaning and looked at him.

“You good?” He asked, raising his voice a little above a whisper.

“Yeah.” Her reply was dry and quick. She went back to cleaning.

Lo’ak looked at his father who was sitting close by and any conversation he would try to have with his sister would easily be heard by him. Lo’ak thought that he would not get much out from either older brother or sister with their parents around, so he gave up for now. Choosing to talk to them later that evening when they are alone.

Though their parents did not notice anything while getting ready for dinner, when the whole family sat down together to eat, they noticed the silence from the twins. Though they never talked all that much during dinner, there always was a small conversation here and there while they ate. Everyone spoke about something, about how their day was. Jake told them about how he was getting better at riding a Tsurak, earning praises from his wife and kids. Well apart from two of his kids who just smiled at him and went back to eating. Neytiri complained to her family about how Ronal kept giving her backhanded compliments and the twins still said nothing. Lo’ak shared his progress with swimming in the sea, that he was now able to hold his breath for a little longer than before. Twins said nothing. Kiri told everyone about the different sea animals she saw today. Twins said nothing. Tuk told everyone about how she had her older siblings had a mini competition on who could find the biggest shell.

Y/n froze. She was praying to Eywa that Tuk does not tell her parents that Y/n threw a shell at Ao’nung. Y/n knew that her parents would side with Ao’nung and that it would be another long lecture from her parents.

“Me and socks did not win though but next time we will! Right socks?” Tuk smiled at Y/n.

Y/n looked up at Tuk and gave her a small smile. “Yeah, we will.” Though her words were half-heartedly spoken. She then went back to eating.

Jake and Neytiri were waiting for Neteyam and Y/n to talk, everyone had said something about their day apart from those two. When the twins showed no signs of talking, the couple shared a concerned look.

“So, Neteyam, how was your day?” Jake asked.

“It was fine, Father.”

“Anything interesting happen today?” He tried to pry further.

“Hmm, I do not know. Did anything interesting happen today Y/n?” Neteyam looked at his sister in the eye for the first time since their argument.

“Not that I am aware of. No.” Y/n replied with a sarcastic smile that lived short on her face before she glared at him and looked down at her food.

Kiri nudged Lo’ak to ask what happened between the two, but Lo’ak shook his head, meaning he either did not know or could not explain at the moment.

“Oh, that weird, I’m sure you must have done something interesting today.” Neteyam returned her sarcastic smile.

Y/n rolled her eyes. She knew Neteyam was trying to get her to tell everyone that she hit Ao’nung with a shell, but she put up her own fight, she will not tell anyone.

“What happened?” Neytiri asked, her voice soft and motherly. She looked at her two oldest children expectantly.

“Nothing mum. Neteyam’s just being weird.” Y/n told her mother, she does not feel all that hungry anymore, so she passes her food to Tuk who happily eats her older sister’s leftovers.

“You planning to keep it a secret? You know they are going to find out, either from you or from Ao’nung.” Neteyam asked.

“Find out what from Ao’nung?” Jake asked in between the twins’ argument but his voice did not reach their ears.

“I do not care of he decides to snitch I had a very good reason to do what I did!” Y/n stood up. She had enough of this. She wanted to leave to mauri and be anywhere but near Neteyam.

“What did you do?” Jake stands up too.

“Go on tell them if you do not care!” Neteyam gets on his feet and the twins went head-to-head. They could not hear their father’s questions, nor did they see their whole family standing up. They only raised their head away from each other when they hear their mother speak.

“Y/n, did you and Ao’nung...”

“NO! Ew Mum! Why would you even think that!” Y/n cried out in disgust. Her face twisting up when an image of her and Ao’nung alone, doing other things than fighting flashed in her mind. “I just threw a shell at him and now Neteyam is throwing a tantrum over it.”

Silence filled the room.

“You did what Y/n?” Jake asked for the second time, the lack of his nickname for her and the slow, calm pace at which he spoke told Y/n that she was in for some deep shit.

---

Pandora’s sunlight hit the water as it softly hit the shore. Metkayina kids played together, playing games of tag, swimming together and collecting seashells. Damn shells. Y/n despises everyone she sees. Though she kept telling herself that what she did was with good reason, her father had scolded her enough to make her cringe with annoyance every time she saw on either in the seabed or on the sand.

A day had passed since the whole incident but neither Tsahik or Olo’eyktan knew that their son was hit by a shell, but Y/n’s parents were close to making her walk over to their mauri and apologise. Though they later decided to wait and see if Ao’nung would tell their parents.

He did not tell anyone, just as Y/n kept telling everyone. Despite that, she was kept supervised by her father and mother for the day. She was told to follow them around so they would make sure she does not go and start throwing shells at boys again.

Right now, she was with her mother, they both sat near the shore, weaving baskets together with Ronal and a few other Metkayina women.

“I must say Y/n, your ability to weave baskets this quick is a commendable skill.” Ronal complimented the younger child who joined them that day. Neytiri had just said that her eldest daughter will be joining them until the afternoon and truth be told, Ronal did feel that the child would not keep up and slow her down on her tasks. However, she was proven wrong rather quickly.

“Thank you.” Y/n smiled at Ronal. She had decided to act as the sweet, well-mannered child with Ronal so if Ao’nung did ever change his mind and tell his parents about the shell incident then Ronal might not believe him since how could an innocent, kind girl ever do such a thing.

It was not like Y/n was being fake, after all she was kind and well mannered, just not towards certain people, or rather a certain group of boys and one boy in particular. She soon found herself in a pleasant conversation with Ronal and Y/n had forgotten about the reason why she was there in the first place for a while.

Neytiri watched as the two conversed, only adding to the conversation every now and then. Y/n would even talk with the other women around her who happily talked back to her. She admired her daughter for her social skills at times like these, she knew that Y/n was a social butterfly and would always find a way to get along with anyone, so she was shocked when she first heard of her daughters actions the day before.

Even back at the forest, she would see her daughter talking happily to every member of the clan, which made her believe that she would have been the first to adjust and get familiar with the people here. Perhaps she had not been paying enough attention to her. Once Y/n and Ronal’s conversation had come to an end, Neytiri smiled at her daughter and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Perhaps me and your father were too hard on you last night, but I do hope what happened does not happen again.” She softly told her. Y/n looked up at her mother and smiled back.

“Yeah, okay. I am sorry about how I acted.” Y/n replied.

The two shared one last smile before getting back to finishing off their baskets.

The rest of the day for Y/n was spent with her mother and then later with her father. When the family gathered back into to Marui for the night, the twins still did not talk to each other which did not go unnoticed by other members of the family, but they could only hope that the two would talk it out in their own time.

The next day, Y/n was allowed to join her siblings with training again. She joined them with Tsireya, Ao’nung and his friends. Today they were to learn how ride an Ilu. Ilu were how the metekayina travelled underwater in a much quicker way than swimming. Ilu were not like Ikrans and would bond with any rider rather than just one.

Ao’nung called out to the ilu by making a particular type of noise with his mouth. The ilu came quickly and swam around him in circles before he turned around to face everyone behind him.

“If you want to live here, you have to ride.” He told them,

Y/n noticed a small bruise on his cheek where she had hit him with the shell and nearly felt guilty. Nearly.

Tsireya called some ilu over to her and then beckoned Lo’ak to join her. Lo’ak was the first to attempt to ride an Ilu, he made the bond with ease but when he told the ilu to swim, he lost grip quickly, causing him to tumble around in the water. Everyone had their heads underwater, watching his attempt eagerly.

Ao’nung and his friends rose from the water laughing and Tsireya tried her best not to laugh. The twins had also tried not to laugh but they both ended up laughing a little.

It turned out that Kiri had already bonded with an Ilu before and did not need to be taught again. So, then Neteyam went next, compared to Lo’ak, he got the hang on it quicker and was able to ride an Ilu with ease. While the brothers practiced together, Tsireya took Tuk over to where the smaller Ilus are and Ao’nung was left with teaching Y/n.

“Alright Socks, looks like you’re the last one left.” He tilted his head down slightly and smiled at her. She frowned at him back.

“I thought I told you to not call me that.”

“Why? I think the name suits you.” His voice sounded so innocent, but Y/n knew better.

“You do not even know the meaning of the name.”

Ao’nung called an Ilu over.

“Alright then, tell me the meaning.”

Tell him the meaning of socks? Over Y/n’s dead body. Why would she give him another reason to make fun of her? So instead, she ignored him and greeted the Ilu instead. She got on the Ilu’s back and pulled her braid from behind forward to make the bond.

“Do it slowly and gently,” Ao’nung advised her as he watched the bond seal between her and the Ilu, he called over for her. “Wouldn’t want to scare the Ilu away.”

Once she had made the bond, she could feel the animal’s heartbeat and breathe, as if the two were one. This reminded her of her Ikran and how it would be like when she would ride her Ikran.

“Now tell the Ilu to swim forward.” Ao’nung’s voice sounded closer than she thought he was and made her jump. This caused the Ilu to get scared too and jerk Y/n forward into the water. Once she had emerged from the water, she heard Ao’nung and his friends laughing. Well, not like she had expected them to do anything less. So, she took a deep breath and tried to get onto the Ilu again.

Once she had bonded again, she looked back at Ao’nung making sure he was not close enough to do anything again. Once she was satisfied with the distance, she looked forward again and told the Ilu to swim forward. The Ilu moved immediately and swam with speed through the water. Y/n now understood why Lo’ak had lost his grip the first time he had tried.

So, she tightened her hold and told the Ilu where to swim. She told the Ilu to swim in a large circle, eventually making the way back to where Ao’nung was at.

“Damn, she learns fast.” One of his friends spoke aloud to himself. Ao’nung dismissed it by saying,

“It is an Ilu, kids younger than that small forest kid can ride one. Nothing impressive at all.”

Once Y/n had reached him, her hair wet and sticking to her cheeks, she smirked at him.

“I bet I could easily win a race.” She challenged him.

Ao’nung scoffed and looked back at him friends amused before looking back at the girl in front of him. “Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself?”

“Not at all.”

The two looked at each other a little longer before Y/n tilted her head with a mocking expression and Ao’nung called out to another Ilu. He got on the Ilu and his friend came forward, telling them both where to start and where to finish. The first one to reach the coral area where Y/n’s siblings and Tsireya are wins.

“Three... Two... One... Go!” The friend counted them down and the two were off.

The two were neck to neck throughout most of the race, both telling their Ilu to swim faster and faster. They would look at the other besides them, getting frustrated that they could not get rid of them. Ao’nung was surprised a little that Y/n could hold on for this long, but he pushed his astonishment away and focused on winning the race.

In the end, the two tied and there was no clear winner. They both got annoyed again but before they could race again, Tsireya swam over to congratulate Y/n on riding an Ilu. Y/n got distracted by trying to figure out what she was saying with the finger talk since she forgot some of the basic signs Tsireya had taught her, that she did not notice Ao’nung swimming away. Not that she would have cared too much.

For the next hour, the kids would play around with their Ilus, swimming around large coral and trying to learn tricks from Tsireya. Though this excitement was short lived for Y/n before she felt a small nip on her leg. She looked down and saw the fish that looked like Ao’nung nipping at her leg again.

While she did find that fish’s appearance amusing, she did not appreciate the fact that it came to bite her wherever it caught sight of her. Though luckily, this time she had an Ilu so she could quickly swim away from it. Just when she believed she had outswum the fish, she looked behind her to see the fish swimming towards her with a few other fishes behind it.

Neteyam was playing around with Lo’ak on his Ilu happily, thinking that everything around them is peaceful. He was about to sign to his brother that they should probably head back when he saw Y/n riding her Ilu in the distance behind Lo’ak with a whole school of fish chasing after her.

He pointed at her and Lo’ak looked behind him to see the sight. By now, Y/n had changed direction and was swimming towards them, bringing the angry school of fish with her. The two brother’s eyes widened, and they quickly got their Ilus to swim away with Y/n followed them close behind.

I suppose we can say that it was not just Y/n who came back home with a few fish bites that day.

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