#the speech bubbles have been trying to murder me again

[onionninjasstuff]

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[ieatstarsforaliving]

The Fucking Fight Club (2)

Summary: Hazel tries to control her powers during the first fight club. But because she's a loser, she fucks up. A lot.

Pairing: Spider-Woman!Hazel Callahan x Classmate!Reader

Warnings: Mature language, use of (Y/N), mild violence, mentions of bruises and blood

Word Count: 3866

Note: Okay I know I gave y'all the first chapter yesterday but you guys surprised me with so much likes, I quickly whipped up the next chapter. The ending is kind of bad but lmfao idc. It's extra long cause I probably can't write until next weekend due to fucking midterms. I wish I could drop out and write fanfics all day long. But life is unfair to the gays. - Bia <3

“Okay, before we actually do this, I want Hazel to practice controlling her punches.” 

Josie had dragged PJ and Hazel to a hiking trail in the nearest forest. This wouldn’t have been mandatory if Hazel didn’t have the super-strength to murder a human with a single blow, but since she did, Josie wasn’t about to let the feminist self-defense fight club happen without a bit of rehearsal. 

“Fine, mom.” PJ rolled her eyes. She was used to Josie’s dramatic cautiousness, but this seemed like a waste of time. She turned to Hazel and offered her face. “Hazel, just relax, and punch me.”

Hazel did a double take. “Punch… punch you?”

“Okay, I don’t like that tone. I know how to take a punch. Something people would always say is ‘PJ knows how to take a punch.’ Come on up.”

“PJ, she literally beat up a grown man with metal octopus arms last week. And the week before that, a man made of indestructible sand. You remember that? On the news? You might know how to take a punch, but you don’t know how to take her punch.”

“That’s why we’re practicing!”  

“I meant like practice on a tree or something.” Josie waved towards the nearest tree, standing about 25 feet tall. “Hit a tree, Hazel.” 

Hazel shrugged, before pulling back and punching into the middle of the tree. In a split second, the tree quaked under the assault, its massive frame crackling under the exact spot of Hazel’s fist. The bark gave away first, exploding outward in a radial pattern. When she retracted her hand, there was a massive dent on the thick body of the tree, jagged fault lines extending from the center of the impact. 

PJ’s eyes widened. “Holy fuck. That could have been my face.” 

Josie shook her head. “Okay, so, obviously, you have to calm down. By a lot. Try the same thing, but like, weaken it?” 

Hazel nodded. She then gently tapped the tree with her fist. 

Josie shook her head again. “That was clearly too weak.” 

Hazel sighed. “I don’t know if I can do this, guys. I’m so used to punching psychopathic criminals who want to kill me, so I’m always using at least 90% of my strength.” 

“Which is why I brought this.” Josie pulled out a piece of paper from her bag. It turned out to be your face printed on an A4 sheet with a speech bubble that read, ‘punch me!’ “Now, hear me out—”

“-Actually, this is brilliant,” PJ said, taking the paper from Josie’s hands. She taped it to the tree and presented it to Hazel. “Imagine the tree is (Y/N). She’s standing in front of you. She’s sexy, she's wearing a bikini, she’s ready to learn, and she’s asking you to punch her. What do you do?” 

Hazel stared at the tree with your face on it. In spite of this entire scenario being outrageously stupid, Hazel’s eyes fixated on the piece of paper, trying to immerse herself in your 2D face. It seemed to be a copy from last year’s yearbook, one that she had spent many hours staring at. She felt weirdly guilty as she wrinkled her eyebrows.

“I don’t really want to punch her.”

“Well, you have to! This is for feminism!” PJ groaned when she saw the hesitancy in Hazel’s face. “Hazel, women like strong, protective people. Why do you think there’s a hulk shrine in the girl’s second floor bathroom? You punch (Y/N) straight in the face, and she’ll immediately fall in love with you.” 

“Well–”

“-She will, Josie.” 

Hazel nodded. It was worth a try. If she wanted to wrestle with you in this club, she had to try. With a measured breath, Hazel extended her arm, fingers curling into a tight fist. She delivered a punch, focusing on her strength rather than causing harm. The moment of impact was firm but gentle, almost considerate towards the tree’s bark. It was as if the tree had barely registered the encounter, although its leaves were left shaking. She turned to her friends. 

“Perfect,” PJ whispered, her eyes glistening in awe. “Let’s go beat some bitches up.”

“Not how I’d word it,” Josie muttered. 

That afternoon, you were taking a hike in the same forest with Isabel and Brittany. It was quite calming, walking and talking with your friends in the middle of a beautiful forest. Birds were chirping, winds were breezing– And you guys were completely alone, since nobody really came here, and if they did, it was usually after sunset to do drugs and film porn. 

The three of you reached the midpoint of the trail to take a small break, when Brittany pointed at a nearby tree. 

“Hey, isn’t that…” 

You followed her finger to a tall tree that seemed to be beaten up by someone, with its bark splintered and smashed by a form of impact. And in the middle of its trunk, was a photo of you, with a speech bubble that read ‘punch me!’. 

Your heart dropped. 

“Oh my god, (Y/N), somebody wants to kill you,” Isabel gasped. She walked up to the tree and ripped the paper off. “Isn’t this from our yearbook?” 

You reached out to take the paper from Isabel’s hand and inspected it closely. It was indeed a page from the previous year’s yearbook, with your smiling face captured in a freeze-frame moment of your junior days. The speech bubble, however, had been added later, which meant that someone had deliberately printed your face, edited it, and pinned it to a tree to violently punch it out. 

You felt a chill down your body. Who could have done this? You knew it was hard to be friends with everyone from school– but who would despise you enough to do this vicious and also slightly weird property damage to nature? 

“We should report it or something, like to a park ranger,” Brittany offered, sensing your panic.  

“No, They’re just going to tell us not to come back here wearing shorts,” You sighed. There were no cameras on the trail or anything, and the park rangers were men who were probably going to comment on your appearance instead of the actual problem at hand. “I have to do something about this by myself.” 

You needed protection. No, you needed to learn how to protect yourself. You needed teachers who could help you protect yourself from evil highschool men. 

You needed Hazel Callahan. 

You turned to your friends with a determined face, masking your fear before saying;

“Do you guys want to join a self-defense club with me?”

 Isabel and Brittany paused, exchanged glances, then nodded. 

“What the fuck. These girls are ugly.”

It was the first club meeting for the feminist self-defense fight club, and there were exactly 8 girls waiting in the gym. Absolutely no sign of you. Hazel laid on the gym mats, trying not to show her disappointment. She reached for her phone, staring at your number in her contacts. She never got to texting you because she was panicking over what to say one night, and was busy fighting off muggings and carjackings every other night. 

“Are you stressed? Cause I’m stressed,” Josie muttered, as the advisor for the club hopped in, earning a sharp breath from Hazel. 

“Hey, ladies! Let’s get it poppin’ in this motherfucker.”

Hazel blinked. Mr. G was the advisor for this club? 

This was going to be absolutely horrendous. 

“Alright, uhm… hello, everybody,” Josie tried, looking around the gym filled with girls jumping on trampolines, hula-hooping, scooting, and balance-balling. “Okay, excuse me, sorry, I feel- sorry–” 

“-EVEVRYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP.” PJ hit the floor with a broom, each collision echoing through the space with a ‘BANG’. 

“This isn’t a little hangout, okay? Oh it’s not a sleepover or playtime. There are serious rules that we need to establish, okay? 

“First? Listen to Hazel.” 

Hazel lifted her hand in a subtle gesture. 

“Second? Be on time. Except for you,” PJ pointed to Mr. G. “You come whenever you want. What time is it?”

“3:30–-” 

“-3:30! Club starts at 3:15. Not 3:16, not 3:17. But the door closes at 3:15. No exceptions!”

Hazel smiled. Other than the fact that they were the ones who were actually late, PJ was doing amazing, putting authority towards the three girls and setting the ambiance. PJ could be a menace sometimes most of the time, but when she wanted to get shit done, she got shit done. Hazel was almost too distracted by PJ’s rant—

“-I don’t care, if you’re like, oh, but I had to go get extra help for math because I need to get a full ride because my mom lives in a trailer and she loves her boyfriend more than me, bleh blah blarh blargh– Shut up. My dad left me and I’m incredibly punctual–”

–That she didn’t even notice you walking into the gym with Isabel and Brittany following closely behind. When she did notice, her heart seemed to pick up speed, her lips curling into a smile even without realizing. Josie recognized the smile– one that Hazel only had when she was talking about her crush— and Josie turned around, motioning to PJ that the holy trinity had entered the gym. 

Your eyes met with Hazel’s, and you waved in acknowledgement. She almost dropped her notebook as she looked around to check if you were waving to someone else, and then she fumblingly waved back. You giggled. Hazel had this face that effortlessly radiated innocent charm. You weren’t sure why, but you were drawn to her slightly nerdy demeanor. (it’s called being gay)

“Hey, guys. Come on in,” PJ rasped. “Uh… we’re just getting started here.” 

You walked to Hazel and stood beside her. “Sorry we’re late,” you apologized. 

The three girls shook their heads. “Don’t worry about it—”

“-Uhm, the rules were for next week, but this week is good–”

“-Yeah, no worries, take it easy.” 

Annie seemed confused. “Okay, I just want to make sure– This is a self-defense class, right? Where we can learn to protect ourselves against football players.”

“And the criminals that Spider-Woman has been fighting? Cause, uhm, crime rate has been going up so criminals are gonna pork us. They’re gonna pork us.”

“I thought we were fighting each other for money. There’s a cash prize, right?” 

“I thought this was to be a part of like a local, underprivileged female community.” 

“My identity is completely attached to hers so I just go wherever she goes.”

“I thought I could learn how to protect myself. Cause I’m pretty sure someone’s trying to kill me,” You added. 

“What?” Hazel turned, her eyes filled with worry. 

“Everyone’s here for a good reason!” Josie laughed. “So, you know, why are we nitpicking reasons?” 

“Yeah! So, let’s jump in. Hazel, why don’t you take it away?” 

“Uh.” 

PJ and Josie stepped back and began clapping. Everyone else followed along into a scattered and confused applause. Hazel walked to the front, opening up her notebook to the page reading ‘Self-Defense Club.’ 

“Okay. Hi. I’m Hazel. And I’m going to teach you guys how to fight. Maybe throw some punches. Some kicks.”

There was a bit of silence, maybe a single cough. PJ spoke up.

“(Y/N), since you’re closest to Hazel, why don’t you volunteer and step up?” 

You shrugged. “Sure.” 

You weren’t completely sure what was going on or how exactly Hazel was going to teach self-defense, but you dropped your backpack to the floor and walked towards Hazel, who looked incredibly afraid of what was going to happen next. She looked over your shoulders to PJ and Josie. 

PJ mouthed the words, ‘Punch her. She’s the tree. Punch her.’

Hazel sent signals through her eyes meaning, ‘I can’t– I’m not gonna punch her.’ 

PJ continued to mouth the words, ‘Punch her. Hulk shrine. Imagine her wearing a bikini.’ 

Hazel’s face contorted with disbelief, her eyebrows raised in surprise, and her mouth slightly agape. Was she actually going to punch the girl that she’d been crushing on for years? Was this really the way to do it? She tried to ignore PJ who was now mouthing ‘punch your virginity away’ and instead curled her hands into fists, imagining the tree, the print-out of your face saying ‘punch me!’, you wearing a bikini, your smile, your wave, your eyes, your body—

-While you stood beside her, wondering why Hazel looked like she was about to shit herself. You began to open your mouth to ask if she was okay. 

“Hazel—”

—And she flung her fist to your face. 

You didn’t even register what had happened until a sharp burst of pain radiated from your nose, and you found yourself laying on the floor of the gym. You heard gasps and shouts and something about Mr. G trying to shut the club down (“Hey hey hey hey hey– I don’t know about this shit-”) as you slowly sat up, tasting liquid metal. The pain began to spread to the rest of your face as your eyes blurred up, leaving you momentarily stunned and struggling to regain your composure. 

“Fuck, (Y/N)- I’m so sorry-” a horrified voice rang in front of you, and you felt a warm hand against your cheek. The hand seemed to be shaking, and you wiped your hazy eyes to see Hazel kneeling beside you, her expression embedded with guilt. “Oh my god. Oh my god.” 

“You didn’t even warn her!” Annie screamed. 

PJ shrugged. “Okay, we didn’t get warnings in juvie. Juvie was way crazier. One time, this girl’s punching me in the rain. Fall to my knees. It’s muddy. I get up– I’m blind. Punch her right in the middle of her face. Broke her fucking nose.” 

“Pretty sure Hazel broke (Y/N)’s nose too,” Annie grumbled. 

Isabel hurriedly handed you a couple of paper towels as Mr. G pushed the crowd to assess the situation. 

“Let me see her,” Mr. G ordered, gasping when he saw the amount of blood coming from your nose. “Oh, shit, man, we gotta shut this down.” 

“No, No—” 

“-Shut this shit down. Shut it down—” 

“-No, Don’t blow the whistle– Don’t blow the whistle!” Josie yelled. Everyone went silent, turning their attention from you to Josie. “I know that, you know– this is a little messy and bloody right now— Hazel, can you take (Y/N) to the nurse’s office–  but like, the only way that we can learn how to defend ourselves is by teaching each other.” 

Josie continued on with her little speech as Isabel and Brittany offered to take you to the nurse. But Hazel denied their help, rambling something about how this was all her fault. She picked you up fairly easily to your surprise, bridal style, and carried you out of the gym. You clutched onto her and rested your aching face into her stomach, feeling embarrassed.

When you arrived at the office, the nurse had gone home already, leaving Hazel to place you on the examination bed and find the medical kit. She seemed really anxious as you touched your face, your hand coming back dripping in red. 

“God, juvie really taught you how to punch, huh,” You joked, battling your agony with humor. Hazel didn’t laugh. Instead she grabbed a cloth and ran it under the sink water, indulging the silence. You tried again. “Hazel.” 

It was ignored once again as Hazel kneeled in front of you and started cleaning your face, her thumb gently holding your chin. She was very obviously avoiding your gaze with the best of her ability. 

“Hazel, look at me.”

Hazel finally looked up to your eyes. She looked like a child knowing that she was about to be reprimanded or put on time out— and you almost felt sorry for Hazel, even though you were the one bleeding out. She seemed to grimace as you opened your mouth, getting ready to be shouted at. But instead, you asked;

“Why didn’t you message me?”

Hazel paused. 

“I gave you my number. You didn’t message me,” You said again, completely serious. “You don’t like me?” 

“No, I like you!” Hazel exclaimed. Her cheeks turned into a shade of pink as she tried to reword the sentence. “I mean, I don’t don’t like you, I… I’m really sorry. I wasn’t sure if you even wanted to come to the club, and I’m sure you don’t want to anymore-”

“-No, I want to.” You interrupted. “I mean, my face hurts like a bitch, but… it was a solid punch. And I really do need to learn how to defend myself like that. I think someone’s trying to kill me, so I want to be ready.”

Hazel cocked her head. “Is someone attacking you? Do you need help?” 

You shook your head. “Not exactly, but I did see my face taped onto a tree, and someone had hit it really, really hard. Like, incredibly hard. Maybe with a rock, or something? I don’t know. I think it might be a death threat.”

Color seemed to drain out of Hazel’s face. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you–” You explained, mistaking Hazel’s pale skin as fear. “Listen, I’m not angry at you. Well, okay, I am a little, I think you could have warned me about the punch, at least, but… I know that you’re still recovering from your past and you’re probably on edge all the time.” 

Hazel nodded along, as it was partially true– she was on edge, but mainly because you were staring down at her with blood on your face and you still managed to look hot as fuck. She choked on her words before saying, “Still, I shouldn't have punched you like that. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m really sorry.” 

You smiled. “This is the whole point of the club though, right? You punch me, I punch you… and we become stronger together– ow.” 

You winced when the cloth touched a particular spot on your nose bridge, being reminded of your injury. 

“Shit, sorry, here—” Hazel instantly dropped the cloth. She carefully cupped your face, examining your wound with sincere worry. She was used to seeing wounds on herself, but seeing them on a person that she liked— seeing them on you, made her particularly upset. 

You were surprised to see Hazel being so serious. Every time you tried to talk to her, she was either nervous or punching you. To see her so focused on your face made you feel a bit self-conscious, leading you to comment on her skills to break the silence.

“You seem to have a lot of experiences patching someone up. Do you do this often?” 

She chuckled, “You have no idea.” 

You assumed she was talking about juvie, and you recalled seeing the bruises on her face the last time you talked to her. Was Hazel still having problems with crime even after prison? You stared at her, your heart throbbing with sympathy for Hazel. What struggles had she faced in her past for her to learn to punch so strongly, to patch up bruises, and to always be nervous around others? 

Hazel pulled away from you, finishing up the basic patch-up. She started putting the medical kit away as you caught sight at the mirror across from you.

“Great. I look awful.” You sighed, lingering on your reflection.

“No, you don’t.”

Hazel tore her eyes away from the kit and responded, as if you had said something completely out of reality. You laughed and shook your head, looking at the floor.

“No, my face is a complete mess–” 

“-You look pretty.” 

You tore your eyes off from the floor to Hazel. She was staring at you with a soft look in her eyes, one that you felt yourself getting lost in. She had such… honesty within them, as if she fully believed your beauty underneath the red and blue color. 

“You always do.”

And for a moment you wondered how you had never truly seen Hazel before— when the soft glow from the sun streamed through the window, casting a warm light over the two of you. Hazel’s brown hair, cascading into a messy mullet, framed her face which seemed to be burning up each second that passed. 

“...you too,” You muttered, a shy smile replacing your dumbstruck expression. “I hope you know that.”

Then it was her turn to gawk, at you and your hands timidly placed on your legs which dangled from the examination bed. She was reminded of her crush that had been sitting in her heart for years. She had just spent 5 minutes in a room alone with you— and for a second, she was almost glad that she punched you. 

And all of a sudden, Hazel seemed to recognize the lack of space between the two of you. Had you been this close to her this entire time? Your face was just inches apart from hers, and time seemed to stretch as you two gazed at each other, hearts thumping in unison. It was as if the wall Hazel had managed to build around her feelings towards you crumbled within this moment. Hazel’s lips parted, just a fraction, as if inviting the inevitable to say—

“-The club isn’t being shut down!” 

The office door swung open with a bang. 

Hazel immediately leaped back from you, as you whipped your face towards PJ and Josie who stopped in their celebratory tracks, analyzing the odd tension from the room.

“Oh, sorry, we thought–” Josie gaped, rubbing the back of her head in awkwardness. “How are you doing, (Y/N)?” 

“I’m doing okay, actually. I should go. But I’ll see you later, bye.” You hopped down from the bed and started walking out of the room, talking a bit too fast for anyone’s comfort. You almost fell over while you ran down the hallway, unable to accept what had just unfolded. What was that? You almost— you almost kissed a girl. You almost kissed Hazel Callahan.

In the meantime, Hazel was also mortified at the fact PJ and Josie had interfered right then and there. She hid her face with her hands which her friends mistook for anger.

Josie tried to calm her down, “Okay, I know that today was kind of a disaster and you made (Y/N) bleed, but after you left we managed to grow the spirit. Everyone’s into beating each other up now. It’s kind of working.”

“And, I honestly don’t know what just went on right now but… (Y/N) just said she’ll ‘see you later’. Which means it kind of worked for you too,” PJ added. “And it doesn’t seem like you broke her nose, which meant that you can actually control your power!”

“Are you still up for this, Hazel?” 

Hazel peeked out from hands, her face still red, her heart still sprinting, her mind still thinking about your lips— and how you said you would see her later. A smile tugged at her lips as she nodded and said,

“Let’s fucking do this.”

Previous Chapter: The Origin

Next Chapter: The Set-Up for Chapter 4

[strawberry-lemonade-kisses]

Mournful Goodbye’s

I have been trying to beat writers block so i started using writing prompts. Today’s prompt was ‘write a goodbye with a kiss. It could be the characters not seeing each other for a while or never seeing each other again.’

I made myself sob with this one so i’m sorry.

Tags - Blood, character death, fighting, swords, murder.

The dust was settling around you as you stood protectively over the young ‘kamado boy’ as your fiancee had called him. “What’s happening?” You could hear the boy panting as he strained to look through the dust at the fight you had witnessed moments prior. Coming into view was your fiancee and the upper moon, face to face in some sort of standoff. You were running before you knew what you were doing, raising your sword as you caught the eye of the upper moon as he looked over Kyojuro’s shoulder before looking to the left. The sun, you ran faster. The sun was rising, so you had to finish this now. Kyojuro had his sword halfway through the demon's neck, holding one of his hands away at an awkward angle. You jumped. “Frost breathing, first form; Avalanche.” You inhaled sharply while raising your sword.” “let go!” It happened faster than you knew what was going on. The power from the upper moon knocked you back, throwing you yards away from the two of them. He had jumped away from Kojuo, both of his arms severed as Kyojuro dropped to his knees. You were up the second the upper moon’s feet hit the ground. He didn’t spare anyone a glance before bolting into the woods. You turned back to your fiancee who was slouched on the ground. “Baby” He didn’t move. Something was wrong. “Kyojuro, baby!” Blood was all you could see between Kyojuro's fingers. He was covering his stomach gasping for breath as you knelt across from him. “Move your fingers I’ll stitch you up, just give me a second let me take off my jacket and we can use it as a cl-“ He raised his bloodied hand, silencing you as you stared. There was no stomach. His abdomen was nothing but a gaping hole, pouring blood onto his lap and into his uniform. “This is it” You looked up at his words. He had a mournful look his eyes downcast as he stared at the blood pooling at your knees. “My love” You shook your head. “No. Don’t start some speech. No, you’ll be fine” you were shrugging out of your haori as you spoke using your teeth to rip the sleeves off. “My love I’m not going to make it. Please let me speak” He took a shaky breath as you stopped, dropping the fabric in your lap and meeting your fiancee's eyes. Tears had bubbled up the second you looked at him. “Please take the three boys under your wing, you know the books my dad reads, help the kamado boy with those. I know you can handle that, you are nothing but talented and patient.” He took another shaky breath, eye flickering to the three kids standing around you, their sobs being muffled by their sleeves. “Please tell Senjuro to follow his heart and walk down the path he feels is right. Tell father that I want him to look after himself.” You raised yourself to his level, leaning forward as you grasped his face with both of your hands. “I love you my flame, please keep going, even without me” You sobbed, lips meeting his own bloodied ones in a wet kiss. “I love you Kyo, please stay, please don’t” You kissed him again feeling his breath thin against your lips. “Kyo please!” You cried. Backing up so you could look at his face. The light in his eyes was fading, unfocused, and dim. He gave you a smile, bloodied and soft. “I love you” You whispered, watching his eyes close as he slouched in your hands.

[the-friendliest-freak]

Adding onto this post (the one where The Narrator, instead of initiating a rivalry with Monika, ends up taking the DDLC girls under his wing so he can help them come to terms with being trapped in a game):

(Also disclaimer I haven’t been into DDLC in a while this may or may not be accurate pls don’t kill me)

(Second disclaimer cuz I’m gonna be paranoid if I don’t say it: these are all strictly PLATONIC. No romance here.)

They all mostly stay in the Apartment or The Memory Zone since they’re the closest things The Narrator has to domestic settings on-hand

The Narrator eventually learns about each of the girls’ personal issues and takes to trying his best to help (not bc he cares or anything. No he hasn’t gotten attached. No he absolutely doesn’t catch himself nearly calling them his kids)

Monika and him tend to have “training sessions” where they’ll see how far Monika’s powers go. It starts with simple stuff, like changing the texture file of an objet.

(TW SELF HARM) He teaches Yuri this technique he heard of where you write on your arms instead of cutting, and while it does take a while, along with some additional help, they do start seeing improvements. He encourages her to perhaps write any ideas she has for poems on there if she’s ever feeling the urge.

Sayori, Monika, and The Narrator usually have a few chats about how to deal with Sayori’s possible and growing awareness of the fourth wall. They have these conversations in calmer areas of the office, like the Memory Zone or the Zending room (with the door leading to the stair room closed).

Natsuki, for obvious reasons (cough cough shitty dad cough), distances herself from The Narrator quite a bit. Eventually, concerned about her getting lost in the office, he finds her reading manga alone in the Employee Lounge. He has an idea, and asks her what she’s reading, and “why are the speech bubbles the wrong way around?”. Natsuki - appropriately shocked, stunned, absolutely bamboozled - that he has never been blessed with the knowledge and experience of manga, proceeds to excitedly tell him about it.

The Narrator knows what manga is. Yes, he’s very proud of himself for being so conniving and tricking her into sharing her interests so that she may grow comfortable in this stressful new environment. How utterly mischievous.

Sayori wrote a poem about the Memory Zone once and The Narrator did not cry about it, he swears, how could you ever reach that conclusion-

Monika plays the piano in the Boss’ Office, usually after the aforementioned training sessions.

Yuri really enjoys hearing about the more surreal and scary aspects of the office, and The Narrator’s usually on the lookout for new weird shit to show her.

Yuri: “I wrote a poem about a man who realises he murdered his wife by examining a gas station puddle too closely.” The Narrator, with genuine joy: “Amazing. Tell me everything about it.”

Sayori really likes the more humorous moments. She likes the Line™️ the most. The Narrator doesn’t get it but he’ll allow her to play with It™️ since it makes her happy (not that he cares, don’t get the wrong impression)

The Narrator and Yuri bond a bit over their shared intense desire to be liked by others. They have a lot of talks about it, usually on the shores of The Memory Zone, since she finds the water calming.

Running out of things to keep them occupied with, The Narrator once hid the Figleys around the office again and challenged Natsuki to find em all (since he figured she’d be unable to say no to such a challenge). When she did, he said he was proud of her. Natsuki may or may not have cried.

It was either Sayori or Monika to first call him dad - in Monika’s case it was probably sarcastic, and in Sayori’s it was an accident. Either way the Narrator nearly had a heart attack.

Natsuki once sarcastically called him “gramps” and he choked on his tea

During a moment of combined stress, frustration, and confusion, Monika may have altered one of The Narrator’s personality files, as she did with the rest. She changed it back shortly after once she’d realised what she’d done. He assured her he wasn’t mad, told her to not leave the room, then went to the Starry Room to recover for half an hour. (If you’re wondering which file - it was derealisation).

Whilst he feels more impacted by Yuri’s darker poems or Monika’s due to them covering experiences he gets, he does still like Sayori’s and Natsuki’s (he really enjoys reading their poems and sharing them. He loves this shit, man. He showed Natsuki his poem about the little dogs and little frogs from the DOTA 2 Announcer pack and she liked it)

All The Narrator has to do is speak in one of his sillier voices and Sayori’s in stitches. He likes how easy it is to make her laugh.

The Curator is incredibly critical of The Narrator’s choice. “How can you protect them if you can barely protect yourself?” Is a question she asks him very often.

Long story short The Narrator loves appreciates the company of his weird new daughters acquaintances

[feekins]

aight, y'know what? since I keep finding so many translation discrepancies I wanna talk about, imma try doing 1 chapter per post instead. so. we'll see how that goes.

ANYWAY. let's talk ch 3 of Trigun vol 2!!!

(NOTE: I'm reading the Dark Horse [physical] and the Overhaul [online] translations side-by-side)

a few things I wanna note about this sequence:

① at this point, we can see that Meryl's unconscious. I didn't realize this on my very first read back when the official English translation first came out...

② ...so for a while, I thought the panel with Vash's back turned were all Meryl's thoughts - but they are not. they are Milly's. I was a silly.

③ idk why it didn't register to me before, but Vash pauses to get his gun out of the sheriff's desk drawer, which. makes sense. idk. again, I silly 🥴

(Dark Horse on left, Overhaul on right)

weird translation discrepancy but ok?????

and I!!! have always loved!!! this page!!! I can't explain why beyond like...it's just so informative and cool?????

(...at this point in my re-reading, I had a visitor... 🤭 )

...I only just realized that here, it's not just Vash punching the wall - it's Knives evading Vash, causing Vash to punch the wall instead of Knives.

right after that, we have our next few translation discrepancies! Dark Horse has Knives saying "Murderer?! Are you trying to flatter me?" whereas in the Overhaul, it's "Murderer? This is about survival." that difference, to me, kinda skews Knives' characterization in Dark Horse.

then, on the next page, when Vash goes to try to punch Knives again, Dark Horse has Vash saying "Shut up! Bring Rem back!!" whereas in the Overhaul, it's "Shut up! You killed them all!" sorry Vash, you are not immune to Dark Horse's characterization skewage 😔

so then, after Vash's punch misses and he falls over, Dark Horse has Knives saying "Be still and listen when people are speaking to you!" whereas in the Overhaul, it's "Be still. I don't want to hear any more talk of humans."

so far, in just this flashback, Dark Horse seems to paint Knives as arrogant, while the Overhaul shows this coldness in both his treatment of Vash and his hatred of humanity. I've also noticed, as I've been reading, Dark Horse seems to consistently shift Vash's focus from humanity as a whole to just Rem, which. I get it. he's a mama's boy. but to imply that this comes at the exclusion of the rest of the human race is a HUGE misunderstanding of the character imo 😑

I rly do love how much more clear and informative the Overhaul's translation is...and I can't say I understand or like Dark Horse changing the focus of that first speech bubble from the fleet to just the plant ship.

and another weird translation discrepancy: on the next page, the first thing Knives says in Dark Horse is "Reverse thrusters..." (like commenting on the ships we see in the previous panel) whereas in the Overhaul, Knives says "The odds alone for a successful override were minimal."

...ok but how cool would it be if the planet Trigun takes place on had a ring like this 🤩

clever girl

(/Jurassic Park voice)

heyyyyyy I forgot about the cyborg-looking elements in OG Monev's design! gives me a new appreciation for his tristamp iteration's =u=

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 322: IF I COULD TURN BACK TIME

Previously on BnHA: Endeavor was all, “Kirishima please take Hagakure and Aoyama and put them away somewhere out of sight until we’re finally ready for the U.A. Traitor Plot.” Shouto was all “HEY DEKU DID IT EVER OCCUR TO YOU THAT MAYBE YOU WANDERING THE STREETS LOOKING LIKE A GOTH PRAYING MANTIS IS EXACTLY WHAT AFO WANTS.” Deku was all “I’M SORRY I CAN’T HEAR YOU OVER THE SOUND OF MY CRUSHING MARTYR COMPLEX AND ACCUMULATED TRAUMA.” Mineta was all “HEY DEKU YOU SWEET THANG, IF I COULD REARRANGE THE ALPHABET I’D PUT ‘U’ AND ‘I’ TOGETHER, ANYWAYS HMU 💖”, or at least that’s what fandom apparently thought he said. Everyone was all “WELL SINCE WE’RE BACK HERE IN KAMINO WE SHOULD DO THE THING” and did the whole “launching someone into the air to save someone by dramatically grabbing their hand” thing that everybody fucking loves to do in Kamino so damn much. Iida was all “[bombards me and Deku with feels].” Deku was all, “ू(ʚ̴̶̷́ .̠ ʚ̴̶̷̥̀ ू).” I was all, “(;*△*;).” Horikoshi was all, “my work here is done.”

Today on BnHA: 

oh my god.

so I finally went back to look at what I wrote up for 321 last week, and it’s a hot fucking mess lol, and I really don’t want to deal with that right now, so we’re just gonna skip it and go back sometime in the next few days or something because I really want to read the new chapter and I have no self control. I’M SORRY IIDA

oh my god he’s breaking out the narration word bubbles oh my god. shit is about to get epic isn’t it

has there ever been a chapter that opened with these that WASN’T epic? serious question. anyways all aboard the Feels Express I guess

YEP

I saved a bunch of other crying kaomojis when I was looking for ones to use in the “previously on” summary, and right now it’s looking like that was a good fucking decision you guys. if I’m going to be an emotional wreck I might as well do it in style ʕ ಡ ﹏ ಡ ʔ

AND BY THE WAY!!

SHOULD I JUST THANK HORIKOSHI NOW AND SAVE MYSELF SOME TIME LATER. THE MAN ALWAYS FUCKING DELIVERS WHAT ELSE CAN I FUCKING SAY GODDAMN. IS IT TOO EARLY TO DECLARE THIS MY NEW FAVORITE CHAPTER? I SHOULD PROBABLY READ FURTHER THAN ONE PAGE BUT I’VE JUST GOT A FEELING

(ETA: it’s like. maybe my second favorite lol. A HUG WOULD HAVE PUT IT IN FIRST, I’M JUST SAYING.)

anyway so Ochako is releasing Iida, which is actually hilarious, because idk if you all know this but Iida can’t fucking fly you guys

like, I assume Ochako released him because she already knew that Kirishima was in place to catch him, but I really love this split-second of panic on Iida’s part where he’s all “HMM, IS OCHAKO TRYING TO KILL ME, ACTUALLY”

LOL THERE’S A THOOM AND EVERYTHING

that’s some plus fucking ultra on Ochako’s part right there. “IF THEY DIE THEY DIE” goddamn girl did you leave your chill in the same locker as Momo or what

now poor Kiri is all “DAMMIT DEKU ARE YOU PASSED OUT OR WHAT, I DIDN’T GET TO TELL YOU MY THING GODDAMMIT”

oh my gosh he is curled up so small you guys oh my fucking lord

RESIDUAL “LOST CHILD” FEELS FROM LAST WEEK COMING IN FOR A LANDING!! PLEASE MAKE SURE YOUR SEATBACKS AND TRAY TABLES ARE IN THEIR UPRIGHT POSITIONS OMG ( ˚͈͈͈͈̥̆ ₍₎ ˚͈͈͈͈̥̆ )

LMAO IIDA IS TRYING TO CONFIRM THAT OCHAKO PLANNED FOR KIRISHIMA TO CATCH HIM, AND KIRISHIMA IS ALL “NOPE I’M JUST HERE BY CHANCE BRO”

Ochako is the U.A. Traitor confirmed. Hagakure I am so sorry I doubted you. Ochako get over here. so are you Toga now or what

anyway so now everyone is running over before Iida can react to this casual announcement of his attempted murder. and now Mina is taking her turn, and Horikoshi is all “HEY BTW IS MINA CRYING ON THE LIST OF THINGS THAT MAKE YOU CRY?” and of fucking course it is, you bastard. I’m not made of stone

( ɵ̥̥ ˑ̫ ɵ̥̥)

SLDKFJLSDKJ:LKWEJ

IS THIS THE PART WHERE I JUST START SCREAMING INCOHERENTLY FOR THE REST OF THE CHAPTER LOL. SURE FEELS LIKE WE ARE GETTING TO THAT TIME

OH MY GOD KACCHAN AHHHHH

I CAN’T OMG LOL I ALREADY GLANCED AT THE NEXT COUPLE OF PANELS, AND HE’S STARTING A WHOLEASS MONOLOGUE ABOUT ALL OF HIS DEKU FEELS AND OH MY GOD

“HERE YOU GO MAKESTE, A WHOLE CHAPTER OF ALL YOUR FAVORITE META TOPICS JUST THE WAY YOU LIKE THEM” THANK YOU HORIKOSHI YOU’RE A BRO (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ

SLKASODIFALWKFLKJ

THEY’RE JUST DEKU AND KACCHAN. holy shit you guys. because oh my god, but it’s like when Deku was talking to the Vestiges about saving Tomura, and he turned into his little child self because his heart and intentions were so pure?? and it’s like that again, except that we’re seeing them as their child selves because that’s who they are to each other?? like, not that they actually see each other as children, but just, they can see past all of the stuff on the outside and see each other to their cores, to who they are inside, and when they look at each other they each simply see the other boy that they’ve known their whole entire life. idk?? does that make sense??? DOES ANY OF THIS EVEN MAKE SENSE I DON’T KNOW WHAT WORDS ARE ANYMORE I’M JUST SWIMMING IN FEELS OKAY. I’M TRYING HERE

they’re just boys, is what I’m trying to say, I guess. just Deku and Kacchan. all the walls are down, all the gaps are bridged, and all it is is the one boy reaching out and connecting with the other, and just,,, (꒦ິ⌓꒦ີ)

OH MY GOD [GRABBING YOUR SHOULDERS AND POINTING WORDLESSLY] !!!1LK1

DO YOU ALL KNOW WHAT THIS IS YOU GUYS

HOW PERFECTLY FUCKING RAD. WELL LET ME JUST ENJOY THESE LAST FEW SECONDS BEFORE MY LIFE IS FOREVER CHANGED, I GUESS

OH

MY

GOD

CAN HE EVEN SAY THAT??? IS THAT EVEN LEGAL??? IS HE EVEN FUCKING ALLOWED TO SAY THAT. WHAT IS HAPPENING

OH MY GOD!!! OH MY GOD!!! OH MY GOD!!!!!!

─=≡Σ((( つ ◕o◕ )つ

GET IN HERE, EVERYONE!!

Y’ALL HE REALLY DID IT. “BAKUGOU IS SUCH AN ASSHOLE HE HASN’T EVEN APOLOGIZED” WELL GUESS FUCKING WHAT. GUESS FUCKING WHAT, YOU GUYS!! LET’S FUCKING GOOOOO ((((／￣∇￣)／＼(￣∇￣＼)))) AHHHHHHHHHH

OHHHHHHHH

HEH. I’M ALREADY DEAD, HORIKOSHI, YOU BASTARD. DO YOUR WORST. GO ON

YOU CAN ALWAYS COUNT ON “US”, HE SAYS. ALONG WITH A BUNCH OF OTHER STUFF OMG. KACCHAN, YOU STUDIED!! YOU UNDERSTAND!! PREACH!!

OH NO!!

OH WAIT!!!!

LOL I GOT SCARED THERE FOR A SECOND BUT ANYWAY! EVERYONE GET IN HERE!!! GROUP HUG!!! OR WAIT, NO, WHAT ABOUT -- [GRABS YOUR COLLAR URGENTLY] YOU DON’T THINK -- COULD THEY POSSIBLY -- !!!!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

ARE YOU GONNA HUG!??!?!?!?! I AM NOT OKAY!!!!!!! !!!hgk

REACTION PANELS LOL EVERYONE ELSE IS ON THE EDGE OF THEIR SEATS TOO WE’RE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER

LOL OCHAKO

I KNOW THAT IN REALITY THIS FACE IS JUST BECAUSE SHE’S CONCERNED ABOUT DEKU’S FRAGILE STATE RN, BUT I KEEP THINKING ABOUT THE WAY SHE JUST DROPPED IIDA COLD THOUGH, AND I CAN’T HELP BUT FEAR FOR KACCHAN’S SAFETY LMAO. THAT FEELING WHEN THE CLASS PERV AND THE CLASS BULLY BOTH BEAT YOU TO THE LOVE CONFESSION. KACCHAN WATCH YOUR SIX

OKAY BUT LOOK, IT’S NOT THAT I DON’T LOVE ALL OF THE OTHER KIDS, OKAY, BUT CAN WE PLEASE!??!?! HELLO?!?!? MOMO, JUST -- COULD YOU JUST FOR A MINUTE --

NOOOOOOOOOOO

“DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, I HAVE TO SAVE SOMETHING FOR THE FINALE” HORIKOSHI YOU BETTER WATCH OUT, I’M COMING FOR YOU WITH A TWO BY FOUR!! NOT THAT I’M UNGRATEFUL!! BUT JESUS CHRIST, YOU CAN’T JUST DO THAT, AND THEN ALMOST DO THAT, AND THEN NOT!! OMG I HATE YOU

sure let’s cut to Thirteen then, yay. I mean I’m glad they’re alive lol, don’t get me wrong

(ETA: I think that might have sounded a bit sarcastic so I just want to clarify that I really am happy Thirteen is alive and on the job again lol.)

it’s just that if your name doesn’t begin with Baku or Deku I honestly am not interested for just these next five minutes okay lol. like I’m just gonna be completely honest. I am too invested lol, please, they were having a moment, JUST LET ME HAVE THIS PLEASE

OH DAMN U.A. GOT SWOLE AF

THIS SCHOOL HAS BEEN JUICING WTF. I THOUGHT YOU WERE TARTARUS LOL

I’m literally not even reading the speech bubbles though omg I’m so sorry. I really hope there is not a quiz, I promise I will come back to it later scroll scroll scroll

okay so they brought him back to U.A. and he’s all tired and out of it yes

oh goody Hagakure knows all about the security system

(ETA: is it just me or is Horikoshi really laying it on thick with the hints about these two guys lately? I’m on to you sir.)

THAT’S WONDERFUL NEWS. GLAD THIS CRITICAL KNOWLEDGE IS SAFE IN THE HANDS OF THE PEOPLE THAT WE TRUST

ffs Deku

WHAT WILL IT EVEN TAKE TO CONVINCE YOU THEN?? SWEET JESUS

-- holy shit, what??!

they know?? how did they find out??! holy shit???

I’m about to cancel the whole of Japan lmao. fucking try me dudes

-- THE PRINCIPAL!?

NEZU GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!! WHAT THE FUCK

“a ticking time bomb” tell you what, this man is just asking to be punched in the face. literally begging for it omg

(ETA: I have been advised that I misread this part; Rat Principal told everyone how safe U.A. was, but he’s not the one who ratted out Deku; that was “the rumors”, apparently. which, if I had to guess, were probably started by AFO.)

oh I see, so it’s to be Feels, Part II then

he looks so sad and tired and lonely and she goes right for the hand, god bless. though if Kacchan’s not gonna hug him, you’d think someone would at least. or is it because he still smells bad. hmm

AND THE CHAPTER’S ENDING ON HER LOL WELL OKAY THEN

I MEAN IT’S GREAT AND ALL, I LOVE OCHAKO REALLY I DO, BUT WE WERE PROMISED GREAT EXPLOSION MURDER GODS, WHAT GIVES SOB. I WAS ALL READY TO BREAK OUT INTO SONG AND EVERYTHING. SURE, HE DID THE APOLOGY, BUT WHERE IS THE FOLLOW-UP GODDAMMIT

(ETA: just to clarify the reason for my rambling here, I was really waiting for the hero name reveal and the presumed deeper meaning behind it lol. but I guess that is a conversation still to come! and we still need Deku’s response to the apology too for that matter. lots to look forward to still.)

WELL WHATEVER, SO THAT IS THE END OF THE CHAPTER! SHOUT OUT TO MY BOY RAT “LET ME JUST TELL EVERYONE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD ABOUT DEKU’S SUPER SECRET IDENTITY, I GUESS THAT’S ALL RIGHT NOW, NOTHING BAD COULD POSSIBLY COME OF THIS” PRINCIPAL. listen here you little shit

anyway but if you’ll excuse me... IF I COULD TURN BACK TIME. IF I COULD FIND A WAY. I’D TAKE BACK THOSE WORDS THAT HAVE HURT YOU, AND YOU’D STAY. I DON’T KNOW WHY I DID THE THINGS I DID. I DON’T KNOW WHY I SAID THE THINGS I SAID. PRIDE’S LIKE A KNIFE, IT CAN CUT DEEP INSIDE. WORDS ARE LIKE WEAPONS, THEY WOUND SOMETIMES. BUM~ BUM~ BUM~, I DIDN’T REALLY MEAN TO HURT YOU. BUM~ BUM~ BUM~, I DIDN’T WANNA SEE YOU GO. I KNOW I MADE YOU CRY, BUT BABAY, IF I COULD TUUUUURN BACK TIIIIIIIIIIIME...

[helloalycia]

my patient’s neighbour [six] // wanda maximoff

summary: after spending some more time with Wanda against your will, you begin to realise how she feels for you.

warning/s: none.

author's note: hope you like angst! because you got it 👀 also there’s only one more part left after this so be prepared!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part seven | masterlist | wattpad

"You look like you're on a warpath."

I stopped speed walking around the place when Natasha appeared out of nowhere, stepping in front of me. She seemed entertained, before she realised I was probably actually on a warpath.

"Hey, what happened?" she asked, amusement replaced with concern in seconds.

"Wanda happened," was all I said, before walking around her and storming up to the Sokovian in question.

When she spotted me, she opened her mouth to say something, but I didn't give her chance to as I grabbed her wrist and began to drag her away.

"Sorry, if you'll excuse me," Wanda got out to the guests she was chatting with, before I yanked her away. She began to complain as I did, asking, "What are you doing? I was in the middle of a conversation!"

I ignored her and proceeded to drag her away, certain that steam would be coming from my ears if this was a cartoon. Finding a private place to talk, I let go of her hand and spun around with a glare.

"Your thoughts are very loud right now," she said playfully, clearly not reading the situation.

"Then you know that I'm imagining several different ways to murder you," I got out between gritted teeth.

She scrunched her nose. "They all end in you going to prison."

Something about that obnoxious smile she wore and the way her hazel eyes watched me with anticipation was making me angrier by the second.

"How can you do that?!" I asked with exasperation.

She quirked a brow. "And what is 'that' exactly?"

I locked my jaw. "You ruined my date! You kept getting into my head all day, you were rude to Elise, and you're just– you're oozing with jealousy when you're the one who broke up with me!"

She scrunched her nose for the second time, and whereas I would have once found that endearing, I know found it greatly frustrating.

"Oozing? Really? Who says that?"

I closed my hands into fists, trying not to get baited by her purposeful obliviousness. But she was already under my skin, and ever since she broke up with me, the anger had been bubbling away, ready to come out.

"You're such a bitch, Wanda!" I shouted at her without hesitation. "You don't care that you just ruined my chance at moving on! Six months has passed since you broke up with me – you don't get to be jealous! I had to learn to be without you because you gave up on us and that's on you! So, you don't get to be here and make me feel bad for having a chance at a date because you can't make up your mind about us. It's not fair!"

My shoulders relaxed as I got my thoughts out, the anger still present but not as heavy on my back. She was infuriating as I watched her. Barely fazed by my words, a small smile played on her lips. She did nothing to acknowledge my mini speech, instead waiting for me to say something else.

"Seriously?!" I squeaked, my voice rising with annoyance. "Nothing?!"

As if pulled from a daydream, she straightened up and seemed confused. "Huh?"

I groaned loudly, eyebrows raised with disbelief. "For God's sake, Wanda!" Running out of patience, I shook my head and glared harshly. "I want you to stay away from me. You don't get to be in my life like this. And just in case you don't understand what I'm saying, here's something you will. Otvali (fuck off)!"

Not bothering to wait for a response, I stomped past her and didn't look back. As I was walking away, a tear slipped from my eye and I whipped it away without question. She didn't get to do this to me, not again. It wasn't fair.

— 

Despite practically yelling in Wanda's face to stay away from me, she didn't take the hint. Instead, I proceeded to see her two more times in places I least expected it. To be fair, I don't think she did it on purpose. But she could have easily walked the other way and pretended not to see me. Instead, she thought it would be best to piss me off further.

The first time was when I was at a park with a new patient I was caring for. He was wheelchair-bound, so I pushed him around as we spoke to pass the time. We eventually stopped at a newspaper stand since he wanted to buy a few magazines, and that's when I conveniently got bumped into by the Sokovian witch.

"Y/N, hey!" she exclaimed when I turned to see who was there. She had a wide smile on her face, eyes shining bright under the sun. Admittedly, it took my breath away for a second, as I didn't expect it in the slightest. But then I remembered who it was and tried to ignore the way my heart rate sped up.

"Hello," I mumbled, before looking back to the newspaper stand with hopes she'd go away.

"And who is this beautiful young woman, Y/N?" my patient, Dayton, asked as he noticed her beside me.

I pursed my lips, trying to figure out the best response without earning more questions from Dayton, but Wanda decided to answer instead.

"We were girlfriends," she told Dayton with a grin, eyes glancing to me.

"Key word being were," I added quickly, shooting her a look, before looking to Dayton. "It's not a big deal."

"It may not be to you, but it's good to see you, moya lyubov' (my love)," she said softly, grin fading into a genuine smile.

"Don't call me that," I snapped, hating the way her words had such an effect on me. Her stupid accent and her stupid smile and her stupid pretty eyes. Hated it all.

"Ooh, what does that mean?" Dayton asked, looking up between us.

"Nothing, Dayton," I told him calmly, before nodding to the stand. "Just buy your magazines whilst I talk to Wanda."

He shrugged and did as I said, leaving me a moment to stand back and look to Wanda disapprovingly.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, lowering my voice so I wouldn't make a scene. Nothing was accidental with her.

"Just enjoying a walk through the park," she answered with a shrug.

I rolled my eyes. "Well, enjoy your walk."

As I made an attempt to leave, she stepped in front of me suddenly.

"Wait, can we talk?" she asked, losing any sense of mischief.

"No," I deadpanned. "Now, can I leave?"

She frowned, eyes pleading. "Please?"

"I said no."

She sighed, glancing around with irritation. Her eyes settled on the flower stand beside the newspaper stand and I didn't have chance to question what she was thinking before her eyes began to glow red. Raising her hand conspicuously, red wisps of energy appeared and she levitated a single flower from one of the many bouquets, hovering it before me.

"For you," she said, and I ripped it out of the air, frantically looking around in case anyone saw.

"Very clever," I said sarcastically, before looking at the flower and shaking my head. "Stealing isn't cool, by the way."

I dropped the flower on the ground and walked away, my foot stepping on it as I did. She needed to get a damn hint.

—

The second time Wanda reappeared in my life was when Anna invited me to Sasha's home for a visit. I'd been once before, a few weeks after she'd moved in with her granddaughter's family, but not since then. This time, she'd invited me over again to catch up and I assumed it would just be me and her family; Oh, how wrong I was.

Sasha and her family were pretty wealthy, their house sitting on the outskirts of New York and on its own private land. She was a lawyer, hence the wealth, and her home was absolutely stunning with its high ceilings, floor to ceiling windows and three floor structure. Even as I parked out front for the second time in my life, I was blown away.

As I got out of my car and locked it, I noticed another car parking out front – a taxi, dropping someone off. Curious, I waited to see who it was. My eyes narrowed when I noticed a familiar face exiting the taxi and paying the driver. When the taxi drove off, Wanda saw me and began to smile with amusement, joining me at the front door.

"The stalking is getting creepy you know," I told her when she stood by my side.

I knocked on the door using the giant knocker and waited patiently for someone to answer.

"I'd love to take the credit for this," Wanda answered, and I could see her smug smile in my peripheral, "but I was invited by Anna."

I swallowed hard, resisting the urge to roll my eyes, both at Wanda's presence and Anna's secrecy. "Of course she did..."

The door opened to reveal none other than Anna Pivec herself, balancing on her cane and grinning at the sight of Wanda and I.

"Devushki (girls), you made it!" she exclaimed with delight, before stepping to the side. "Please, come on in!"

We both entered her home and watched as she closed the door before giving us both a big hug without warning.

"Oh, okay," I mumbled, but wrapped an arm around her gently. "It's good to see you, too, Anna."

Anna laughed wholeheartedly before pulling away. "I'm sorry. I just missed you both is all. It's so good to have you here, together again. Just like old times."

I forced a small smile, knowing what she meant but also feeling a pang in my heart because it wasn't completely like old times, not really. Naturally, my eyes fell to Wanda who was already looking my way, a similar expression on her face. I wondered if she was thinking the same.

"C'mon, I'll bring you to the kitchen where everybody else is," Anna said, already leading the way. "They're excited to have you over again."

"You didn't mention Wanda would be here, too," I noted as she led us through the main hall.

"Oh, didn't I?" she replied, feigning confusion. "I must have forgotten."

"Hmm." I pursed my lips, ignoring the obnoxious smile that returned to Wanda's lips as we followed Anna.

She led us to the kitchen where Sasha and her husband were preparing some food for the supposed barbecue we'd be having. I'd met her husband the last time I visited, so it was easy to get reacquainted with them both as we met them again.

After a brief catch up, Wanda and I offered to help with the food, but Sasha insisted we take a break and hang out with the twins – her kids – whilst they cooked it up outside. So, I soon found myself heading to the living room with Wanda as Anna went to fetch the twins from their bedrooms upstairs.

I wasn't exactly keen on being left alone with Wanda, so I decided not to say anything and simply keep to myself as we waited for Anna's return. Killing time, I wandered around the living room and looked at the family photos hung on the wall. It was the same as last time, except now there were a few new additions, clearly from Anna, which made me smile without thinking.

They were of Wanda, Anna and I, back when I used to care for her and we'd hang out at her apartment. Some were in the apartment itself whilst others were from places we'd visited together on different occasions. I recognised a handful of them from when Wanda and I were just friends and a few more from when we were a couple. It was clear in the photos which were which, as Wanda was holding my waist and grinning from ear to ear, myself doing the same. For a split second, I almost forgot she'd broken my heart.

"Wow, we looked really cute together, didn't we?" her stupid Sokovian accent sounded by my ear, and I lost my smile when I felt Wanda's presence stood a little too close to me.

She was looking over my shoulder at the photos on the wall and I tried not to get frustrated, but she made it impossible.

"Yeah, we were," I agreed, noticing the surprise on her face at my words, but then I continued, "until you dumped me because you were too scared to stay in a relationship."

Her smile faded at my words and I left her standing there, instead going to the couch to wait there. I wasn't sure why Anna had kept those photographs of us, but I wished she hadn't. 

After what felt like forever, Anna finally returned with her two great-grandkids in tow. Alex and Marina, both seven-years-old, grinned adorably at Wanda and I, betraying their missing teeth.

"Well, look who it is," Wanda said with a bright smile, bending over and putting her hands on her knees. "My favourite set of twins."

Despite how annoying she was, I couldn't help but smile at the way she treated kids. She was always so good with them generally, way better than I was.

"G.G. said we could play Mario Kart," Marina said behind a nervous smile, looking between us. "Can we?"

G.G. was what they called Anna – short for 'great-grandmother'. I found it cute that they accepted her into the family so easily, like no time had been missed.

"I think we can," I said with a warm smile. "But I can't promise we'll take it easy on you."

Alex fist-pumped with excitement before running to the TV to set up his Nintendo Switch. Marina, the calmer of the two, motioned for Wanda and I to take a seat on the couch with her. Anna joined us, taking her place on the recliner, and watched with amusement.

Wanda and I had never actually visited them together, so it was refreshing to see how excited they got around her. Clearly she'd made an impression last time.

"For you," Alex said politely, holding out a controller to me.

"Why thank you," I said, accepting it. "So polite."

He seemed embarrassed as he did the same with Wanda, who hadn't stopped smiling since they came in. After handing his sister a controller, he joined us on the couch, forcing everyone to move up a little and making Wanda press closer to me at the end of the seat. I gave her a knowing look to which she smiled innocently, making me roll my eyes.

"You not gonna have a go, Anna?" Wanda teased Anna as Alex began to set up the game.

"The moving cars makes my head spin," the older Sokovian woman admitted. "You guys enjoy though."

Soon enough, the first game commenced and I was surprised at how competitive I was being, adamant on at least beating Wanda if not the twins. They, of course, spent all their time playing this, so Marina won Wanda and I easily. Wanda came in fourth, I came in third and Alex came in second.

"You just got lucky," Wanda said with a shrug, glancing at me.

"If you say so," I played along, a ghost of a smile on my lips.

"I'm being Toad this time!" Marina exclaimed as Alex set up the next round.

"I'll be Princess Peach," Wanda decided nonchalantly.

"She won't help you win," I said without thinking.

"We'll see, milashka (cutie)," she responded with a playful smile.

I nudged her in the arm, signalling for her to not call me that, but she only smiled wider as she looked back to the screen.

We had a few more rounds, Wanda winning none of them and Marina winning all of them, when Alex began to complain.

"It's not fair, you have to be cheating!" he said to his sister.

"I'm just better," Marina stated casually, making me laugh.

Alex rolled his eyes before looking to Wanda. "Did you used to play this with Pietro? Did he cheat, too?"

I raised my eyebrows with surprise at the mention of Wanda's dead twin brother. I didn't think she'd tell the twins of him, but then I realised that it was only fitting to mention her twin brother to a set of twins that probably reminded her of herself.

Wanda smiled gently. "We didn't have these games as kids, Alex. But when Piet and I played other things, yes, he did cheat." 

Alex sighed, glancing at his sister with distaste before looking to me. "Did you used to play this when you were younger, Y/N?"

"Kind of... I mean, I don't have any brothers or sisters, so I used to play at my cousin's house whenever I visited," I explained. "And it wasn't a Switch. We had something called a Super Nintendo."

"Woah, you're old," Alex muttered with disbelief.

"Alex!" Anna scolded, making me laugh.

"It's okay, he's technically right," I said with a shrug.

"Milaya (sweetie), if you're old, then I'm ancient," Anna said disapprovingly.

"Right, sorry," I said, trying to stifle my smile.

We played another round and as Wanda and I were closing in on the finish line, my joystick began to veer left despite me aiming it to the right. I looked down in time to see red wisps of energy pushing it the other way.

"Yes! I won you," Wanda sang with pride, looking to me as her eyes faded from red to its hazel colour.

"You cheated," I said, eyebrows raised. "I just saw you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she played dumb.

"Wanda," I said, giving her a knowing look. "You sure it was Pietro who used to cheat when you were kids?"

She grinned. "Very sure."

I studied her closely, entertained smile tugging at my lips. "I'm just gonna pretend I let you beat me since you won't admit it."

She shrugged, nudging me in the side gently. "Suit yourself."

"You're supposed to let your wife win anyway," Alex said naively, and I almost choked on my own spit when he did.

"What?" I spluttered out, losing my smile.

Wanda was doing her absolute best not to laugh as her eyes glanced towards me, noticing my shocked expression.  

"Your wife – Wanda?" Alex said like it was obvious. "Our dad says he lets our mum win stuff all the time. It's what you do when you're married."

"I– we–" I paused, clearing my throat and suddenly feeling very warm. "We're not married, Alex."

Alex furrowed his brows with confusion. "But G.G. said that you weren't together."

"But that doesn't mean we're married," I said slowly, hoping my face wasn't as red as it felt.

"Medovyy (honey), they're not together anymore, you're right," Anna started to correct him, though she looked like she was seconds away from laughing herself, "but I never said they were married."

Alex didn't seem to understand still. He pointed to Wanda's hands. "But she's wearing a ring."

Everyone looked down to Wanda's hands which were adorned by several rings on many of her fingers, though none were on her ring finger, so I didn't get what Alex was thinking.

"I always wear rings," Wanda told him with amusement.

"But–"

"That's her right hand, idiot," Marina said to her brother with a scoff.

"No, it's her left," he said knowingly, before raising his left hand in the air and pointing to her right hand opposite him.

Marina rolled her eyes, already fed up with her twin's antics. She stood beside him and motioned to his hands as she explained, "That's your left. It's her right. Like a reflection. It's not a wedding ring."

It took a few seconds for Alex to understand, but when he did, he began to get flustered.

"Oh," was all he said, before returning to his seat. "My bad."

Anna laughed at her great-grandson's embarrassment as I began to flush with a similar embarrassment in my seat. Meanwhile, Wanda was biting her lip to contain her own laughter, eyes teasing me as they glanced at me with amusement.

Today was definitely not going to plan.

—

After gaming with the kids for a little while longer, we were all eventually called into the garden to have lunch together. Sasha and her husband had barbecued a variety of chicken, meat and vegetables for us to eat which was delicious. It gave us the chance to hear everything Anna had been up to with her family and for her to catch up with what's going on in Wanda and I's lives.

Anna seemed a lot happier, the happiest I'd ever seen her, when she was with family. I was glad that she was fitting in and that it brought her closer to her late-husband and daughter. This was all she'd ever wanted and she'd finally gotten it. Despite tricking Wanda and I into coming, I was kind of glad to be there because even if I wouldn't admit it at the time, it was just like old times.

After having dessert and conversing for longer than we realised over some tea and coffee, Wanda and I decided it was best we leave.

"Remember to come by anytime," Anna said to us both by the front door. "You don't even have to call!"

I smiled, nodding. "Thank you, Anna. It was great to see you again. I had a lot of fun today."

"Me, too," Wanda agreed. "It's really good to see you so happy."

Anna sighed contently. "Spasibo (thank you). Both of you." Pausing with thought, her eyes flickered between us both. "I do hope that you resolve things soon. For both of your benefit."

Chewing on my lip, I chose not to say anything. Wanda seemed to feel the same, opting to stay quiet, making Anna breath out halfheartedly.

"Right, well... are you both okay getting home?" she asked, changing the subject.

After reassuring her that we were, we gave her a giant hug before bidding her a goodbye. Once the door closed, I awkwardly glanced at Wanda before heading to my car.

"Hey, is it stupid if I ask for a ride?" Wanda's voice said from behind me.

I looked over my shoulder and saw her following after me, half walking and half running to fall into step with me. I refrained from rolling my eyes as I continued walking to my car.

"Didn't you get a taxi?" was all I said.

"Yeah, but my place is on the way to yours," she answered like it was nothing, finally catching up to me and grinning by my side when we reached my car. "And you're free, so..."

I narrowed my eyes impatiently.

"I won't do or say anything to piss you off," she added, putting out her pinky. "Promise."

As frustrating as she was, I wasn't a bitch, and we'd actually kind of gotten along today. With a dramatic sigh, I stepped to the side and motioned for her to get in the car. She wiggled her pinky, but when realising I wouldn't interlink mine, she lowered it.

A genuine smile fell on her lips as she nodded. "Thank you."

I simply returned the nod before getting into the driver's seat as she did with the passenger's seat. I put Wanda's address in the sat nav before setting off, trying not to overthink the silence that filled the car. Obviously, that was impossible, so I gripped the steering wheel tighter and glanced at Wanda.

"You can put the radio on if you want," I said uncomfortably, shifting around in my seat.

She tensed her jaw, looking (oddly enough) as uncomfortable as I felt, which was strange since she was content annoying me earlier. With a nod, she turned the radio on and some random pop music played quietly in the background, easing my nerves but not making anything more tolerable. It took about ten minutes for me to adjust to the silence when I finally got comfortable, focusing on driving and getting to Wanda's flat quickly.

Without warning, Wanda began to speak in Russian, but it was way too fast and incomprehensible so I had no idea what she was saying.

"Wanda, slow down, what are you talking about?" I asked, trying to cut her off, but she continued to ramble right over me, making me roll my eyes. "Wanda, I don't understand you!"

When I looked to her between driving, she seemed extremely passionate and stern about whatever she was saying. I wished I understood because whatever it was seemed to be eating away at her. I tried to ask her to slow down, speak English, do something to help me out, but she was stuck in tunnel vision, speaking quickly and with sadness.

After what felt like forever but was probably only a minute, she stopped talking and took a deep breath. I furrowed my eyebrows judgementally, eyeing her with confusion.

"The hell was that?!" I asked with surprise.

She didn't reply, making me curse under my breath. At the next red traffic light, I looked to her properly, noticing the distracted stare she directed my way.

"Wanda, what was that?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

She pressed her lips together, hazel eyes swirling with a mixture of emotions that I couldn't make out. I thought she'd answer me, but she still stayed silent.

"Seriously, Wanda, what?"

The traffic light began to go orange and I sighed with annoyance, figuring she'd lost her marbles. But then she finally spoke, my attention half on her and half on the road.

"Ya skuchayu po tebe (I miss you)," she said softly, without mischief or annoyance or anger or anything. Just sincerity.

She looked away after that, eyes drifting to her shoes, probably thinking I didn't understand. But I did and I knew it shouldn't have affected me as much as it did, but I felt my heart ache in my chest as I put my foot on the gas to make the green light.

When I finally reached her apartment building, I waited for her to say something, but she looked as lost in her thoughts than I did whilst driving.

"Wanda," I called quietly, getting her attention.

She blinked, realising we were at her place. Clearing her throat, she barely looked my way as she mumbled, "Thanks for the ride."

As she opened the car door and got out, beginning to walk to her building, I rolled down the passenger's window and called her name. She stopped, looking over to me with a raised brow.

My mouth felt dry as I said, "I know what 'I miss you' is in Russian." Her eyes widened, embarrassed that she'd been caught, and I continued, "You don't get to miss me."

It was harsh, but it was the truth. And I didn't wait to hear her come up with a response as I rolled my window up and set off again. She couldn't act like that when it was her fault we broke up. It wasn't fair on either of us.

[raspberryriddle]

Run, baby, run!

This is so stupid but I had so much fun! 

Warnings: Exploration of anxiety, which is based on my own experiences with it, so there are some spiraling thoughts. Some cursing. Pushy, but well-intentioned friends. Kuroo is actually only in the last ⅓ of this fic lol

Word count: 5.4k

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Friday

This was a dumb idea. A cowardly way out, actually. One should not confess their feelings to someone else through text. One must not, in addition, turn off their phone after professing their three year crush. It also isn’t advisable to tell one’s friends to bat off concern about their location to the interested party. One is a fucking idiot and a scared little bitch.

It was a simple little message that hopefully would escape Kuroo’s radar until later. I wasn’t sure why I felt now was the moment to confess. Maybe it was the present distance-- the boys’ volleyball team attending a three day long training camp a few hours away-- that gave me a little courage to say the thing I couldn’t say directly to his face. Or my friends’ goading, the slings of “you’ll regret it if you don’t do it soon” and “stop overthinking it” probing me all afternoon. 

It might have been the daydream I conjured time and time again when I thought about what it might be after I’ve told him -- the picture of what our relationship might look like. This little mosaic of what-ifs, all lightened up in bright, golden light. Really ordinary images of traveling to school together -- which we already do, only now with him hovering above from where I’m sitting on the train making dumb kissy faces at me. A simple life filled with featured dates and stolen jackets and Kuroo waiting for me at the end of every day.

I want that. But the price of not having that and losing what I already have with him froze my fingers from hitting send.

Me: I just wanted to let you know I have a crush on you. Have a good weekend.

My thumb hovers a bit above the send button, slightly twitching.

I don’t have to send it. Things can stay exactly as they’ve always been. Safe and stable. Enough for me. 

“Nuh-uh. Don’t think we’re letting you hold yourself back.” The she-devils I call my friends were at one point watching me text from behind my back and at another forcing their will into the situation when they saw me pause. Yuki snatched my phone from my hands and I had no choice but to kick at her butt. She yells some choice words and drops my phone. There is a scuffle. Really, more like a doggy pile, with me at the bottom. Their hands go digging under me, pinching and tickling their way until they feel my phone and fish it out. I throw them off of me and try to tackle a grinning Hana but it was Yuki and her freakishly strong arms wrapped around my waist that stops and wrestles me back onto the carpet.

“Andddd, send.” Hana smiles. “This is for your own good.” She hands me back my phone.

“I wasn’t ready to tell him,” I moan. 

She eyes me. “If you weren’t ready, you wouldn’t have typed anything at all. Stop being such a baby and chill. Let's go watch a movie.”

“Fine. We’re watching a slasher film. I need a catharsis.” The glare I sent to them doesn’t have nearly the impact I want. I’m sure I look more frazzled and less murderous, true to my current emotions. They lightly kicked my thighs, urging me to get up and get dressed and to check the show times for the movie theater online.

I unlock my phone without a second thought and freeze.

Kuroo: (...) 

A speech bubble from his side. Kuroo saw it. Kuroo is responding. Not a few minutes after I sent my confession. I am not ready for a yay or a nay this early. Fuck everything.

I shut off my phone hastily, frustrated that I can’t just break it so I never had to receive a text back. 

Like they could smell my anxiety and fear, my friends look at me and at the phone I press toward my pounding heart. “What did he say?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know, he wasn’t done texting when I turned it off. I can’t deal with it right now. Nope, no. No one is turning it back on. I need an emotional pause.”

Yuki tsks at me. “Psshhh, you want a break now and you aren’t even dating yet?”

“Shut up. What movie are we watching?”

They could probably tell I was not a place to be further encouraged by them so they stopped their interloping and we set about our plans for the afternoon. We left my house and not another word was uttered about Kuroo or the contents of his message. That didn’t mean it wasn’t plaguing me.

It was a sickening humid afternoon as we made our way up the block to the subway, enough to make us shed the hoodies we wore the second we left my house but my fingers remained cold and quaking. I tried laughing along to my friends’ dumb comments but it came out higher than usual.

Hana sighs. “Honey, please don’t let this stress you out.”

I cup my hands together. “I can’t help it. I’m really scared.”

They traded looks. “You don’t think we would have forced you to send that message if we didn’t think that he liked you, right?”

“You don’t know that for certain.”

“No, but you probably have that answer now. If only you’d turn your damn phone on--”

A shrill ringing came from the back pocket of Yuki’s pants. She fished it out and squinted at the name on the screen. “It’s Yaku.” 

Fuck. “Why does he have your number,” I demand.

“Geez, calm down, you freak. He’s in my math class. We take turns doing the homework and send screenshots to each other.” 

It’s only sweet karma at work when I successfully snatch the phone out of her hand and let the call die out. Yuki bristles. “Why did you do that? He might’ve needed something.”

“Answers to a math assignment while he’s at his first day of training camp, I’m sure,” I shoot back.

Hana hummed. “He’s probably calling because he and Kuroo know we’re hanging out. Kuroo’s trying to get in contact with y/n.” A bing comes from Yuki’s phone. A text. An omen.

Shortie with the answers (math): Hey, loser. Is y/n there with you? Kuroo wants to talk to her. 

Nooo, no. Not now. I shove the phone back at her. “Tell him I’m dead.”

“You will be if you keep this shit up,” she grumbles but texts him something back. Hana rubs my back soothingly. A cold sweat erupts from me and I suddenly feel like I could simultaneously pass out and run a marathon.

“It’s done, it’s done. Listen to me, please get a grip, you flighty little thing. Your anxiety is contagious. God, I feel nervous for you!”

“Freaking yourself is counterintuitive. Just let his answer exist without carrying the weight of it yourself,” Hana adds, sounding suspiciously like a self-help book.

“Even if we are wrong, it doesn’t matter. It is not the end of the world if that palm tree headed loser doesn’t like you. He can get fucked for having bad taste then. You’re a damn prize.”

I groan. “But what if he does like me?”

Hana stares wide-eyed at me. “That would be a good thing. Right? You do want him to like you.”

I twiddle with the strings from my hoodie. “That would be nice, ideal. But like, how would we be? Together? Me as his girlfriend and him as my boyfriend. That would change a lot of things between us, I think.”

“In probably the best ways. Also possibly in the worst. You can’t predict how it might turn out.”

“I also can’t help now if we do get together and people only see me as his girlfriend. Or if he might think our entire friendship was based on a ploy to get him to date me. Or how intertwined our lives will probably become if it becomes serious.”

Yuki whistles. “Wow, hello deep and intrusive thoughts.”

“What if I do become ok with the relationship but then he gets tired of me and dates someone better, without an anxiety disorder. How am I supposed to compete?”

“It could end before you get to that point, he could be a terrible boyfriend,” Hana supplies cheerfully.

“Most importantly, what am I supposed to say to someone who tells me they like me back? How would we change together and for each other? I don’t know if I’m ready for whatever is coming.” 

Yuki sighs. “Well, you better be ready to deal with it. Cause it's already spamming your phone and it exists whether or not you want to acknowledge it. But we can let it go for now.” She stares at me evenly straight on, the smallest smile offered. “Just don’t keep the poor fuckface hanging forever.”

No, of course not. Not forever. Just for the extended weekend. Which, after checking Yuki’s phone, lasts for another 56 hours.

I’m sure that’s enough time to get a handle on myself.

Saturday 

The night before was sold to frivolity, going to watch a campy horror flick and then meandering our way to a karaoke bar, killing our vocal cords with songs about heartbreaks and parties and trying to find a place in this world. A strict anti-romance campaign was enacted after my breakdown, for the betterment of everyone’s night. While there was no alcohol involved and we got back to my house by 9 pm (per my mom’s request, who I could only communicate with through Yuki’s phone because mine ‘ran out of battery’), the morning moved slowly for us, caught up in our mugs of tea and munching on almond cookies.

I almost forgot I spilled my heart yesterday and didn’t know the extent of the mess yet.

Ding. Hana flipped her phone over and glanced over at both of us. “Oh, boy,” she mutters. Promising.

Ding. Yuki lunges for her phone charging in the corner of the kitchen. “Oh, God,” she cries happily. “I don’t know if you’re going to want to see or hear about this, so leave the house.”

My panic trickles in. “I live here, you leave.”

“Oh, baby. You two are a match made in a powder keg. God, I’m so excited to be around for the fireworks.”

I shouldn’t even bother glancing. I should reap in the stillness of the day, and take advantage of the rest of the weekend. I wouldn’t have to deal with anything until technically Monday but sheer curiosity brought me to lean over Hana’s shoulder.

I started choking immediately.

A shot of a flyer done on crinkly orange construction paper. Handwritten with the text reading:

                                       Missing person report:

                                               Y/L/N Y/F/N

                Last contacted: Friday afternoon at 4:34 pm via text

        If found, please have her return Kuroo’s messages. He’s losing his  goddamn mind. Help.

                  Person to contact: Kuroo Tetsurou, number: xxx-xx-xxxx 

                                               ~Signed,

                                 The Nekoma Boys Volleyball Team

My most recently uploaded Instagram photo was attached too, a cute and candid picture taken in a gazebo near school; credits to Yuki for catching me in a good light.

I gape. “Who else got this?”

Yuki scrolled for a few seconds. “16 people in total, including Kuroo. People we all know. Ewww, including Chicka. She has a thing for him! That dumbass Kuroo. Well, now she’ll get the message that he’s off the market.” For how smug she sounded on my behalf, I was touched.

Hana’s eyes crinkle, looking at her phone critically. “Wow, ‘on behalf of the volleyball team.’ I can only imagine…” She sighed slowly. “He’s trying really hard to talk to you, y/n. Maybe, mmmm, it might be fair if you at least turned on your phone and saw what he sent you?”

I close my eyes, drawing back my panic and wielding the little courage I had. “Ok, let me get it out.”

The phone in question was exactly where I left it, buried at the bottom of my roomy handbag with a manga strategically placed over it. My heartbeat moved to my ears as I held it, like a soundtrack to the moment. A steady, ominous, overbearing beat grew louder as I held the power button down and waited for it to turn on.

A string of combating vibrations and rings erupted from my hand, text message after email after call after voicemail after social media notification came through in a flurry.

Cue a synchronized whistle from the three of us. Yuki grabs at my phone and squints at it. “Looks like other people bought into their call to arms and are trying to track you down too. How romantic! I wonder if we get a reward for turning you in ourselves.”

I side kick her on the butt. “I’m not a convict, you ass.”

She clicked her tongue. “Oh, but you are. You stole his heart and now you’re evading the mob they’re sending your way.”

Yanking back the phone, recent texts continue to roll in from mutual friends. Chicka assures me that there is absolutely no rush to get back into contact with Kuroo, she can talk to him personally if I need to turn him down. Sato, our class representative, berates me for being part of what he calls a ‘collaborative effort to undermine his elective power’ by adding him to this stupid group chat. Ito, our tablemate from chemistry, is apparently unaware of the context of the hunt for me and worriedly wonders if I have been kidnapped. Even one from Kozume, who simply said he didn’t want to get involved but his friends were breathing down his neck and Kuroo looked like a kicked puppy. 

All in all, a massive and live shit show was playing before me.

Not much farther in my text app, I see the beginning of Kuroo’s latest message to me: y/n please 

I frown. This is wrong. I’m acting completely heartless while being pushed around by my feelings. I need to grow some metaphoric balls and face it head on.

I click his name and scroll from up to my last text.

Me: I just wanted to let you know I have a crush on you. Have a good weekend.

Kuroo: … I know you wouldn’t ever kid about this, but I just have to make sure. You’re being serious right?

Kuroo: Fuck YES

Kuroo: I’ve had feelings for you for years, this is crazy

Kuroo: Hold on let me call you we’re on a break

Kuroo: y/n? You aren’t answering?

Kuroo: please call me or at least text me back, I really really like you 

Kuroo: how are you going to wish me a good weekend after dropping that bomb on me? I CAN’T SEE YOU UNTIL MONDAY

Kuroo: y/n I know you’re with your friends and I know you’re probably a little freaked out. I’m freaked out too but I’m also feeling on top of the world. I can barely focus on the scrimmages. I wish you were here

Kuroo: please call back. God you’re so cute it's irritating 

Kuroo: Just send me a message to let me know you’re alright, please

A fusion of giddiness and tranquility filled me all of a sudden, a dopey smile rightfully sitting on my face. What had I been so afraid of? His attention was electrifying.

I felt Hana’s arm sling over me and squeeze me. Her smile grew exponentially when I turned to her. “Now you can’t tell me you regret it. He likes you and you like him. It’s simple, the way that works out.” 

Yuki awed on my other side, wistful in her comments about how whipped Kuroo was for me.

“Call him,” she urged, her ponytail swinging merrily behind her. This time I took the advice without any hesitation.

The call continued to dial until it went to the automated voicemail.

“He’s probably in the middle of a match,” I mumble.

“And he’ll probably piss himself when he sees the missed call. Let’s go get some food, we need to celebrate your growth!”

I turned my volume on high and promised myself I would not, in turn, become impatient about receiving a response back quickly. He’d take as long as he needed, probably no more than another two hours before his next break. That’s more than fine. I can wait.

Sunday

He still hadn’t answered back and every moment I felt my hope slowly wrestled from me. Yuki and Hana continued to stay by my side, attempting to cheer me up as best as they could. I know they were also confused and mildly weary as any attempts to contact other members of the volleyball team yielded no results.

I close my eyes and groan. “I know, I know. I deserve getting ignored after he’s vividly declared his heart to me but, god, it still hurts.” 

I refuse to meet my friends’ eyes. “Maybe I’m too late. I understand -- I’ve been ignoring him and he’s decided that I’m not worth the chase. Which is fine, fair enough.” It equally sucks.

“Now, now, we don’t know that that’s what’s happening,” Hana tutted.

“They might be really tired or fixated on their scrimmages. You know how they all get.” Yuki nodded, an uncharacteristically soft smile offered to me.

My friends were pulling all the stops to console me but the facts were glaring. Kuroo and his teammates were giving us radio silence and there had been opportunities between breaks and meal times that he could have called me back.

A rush of sudden humiliation and an itching for self-flagellation cornered me; should I continue to call? Would that be annoying or a sign to him that I’m happy his feelings are the same as mine? Or do I let him answer on his own time and--

Yuki patted my head with a hard palm. “I know what’s going on in there, stop it. He knows you and what you’re like when you’re uncomfortable. He’s not going to hold anything against you. Trust yourself enough and recognize that you crushed on a guy with a good heart, even if his hair is kinda stupid. You did good with that at least.”

Hanna hummed approvingly. “Rooster head with a heart of gold. Good job.”

I’m also really lucky in choosing my friends, apparently.

I breathe in for four seconds, hold for another four, and breathe out on a six-count. I nod back at her and ask what our plans are for the rest of the day.

Not another word is spoken about Kuroo and where we might stand. This time silence is held not out of restraining my anxiety but to appreciate the calmness of the day, outside of the inner storm weathering. It’s silence for the elation that I felt in the moment my feelings were returned and the novocaine-numbness of not knowing anything from his side for the time being.

I have a place where people like and accept me. I wouldn’t miss anything if he didn’t want me now. This place has more than enough room for others but it feels plenty full today. As I sit between the arm of the couch and Hana’s soft and warm embrace, behind Yuki who is sitting on the floor and occasionally locking eyes with me when the dialogue in the movie sounds campy, I feel sure of myself and nothing else.

Monday

I don’t know if I can attribute it to a mellowing sleep or the magical properties of a new day (it has to be more than just our rotation around the sun; every day feels a little too different!), but the weight of what today holds escaped me.

It was probably my mom forgetting to set the coffee maker and me leaving the house in a barely lucid state, wandering down the familiar path I take to school on autopilot. It was my friends who found me near the open front gate, eyes slanted as I read the Nekoma school plaque. Hana sighed and tutted, something about getting better sleep and kidnapping being easy for the state that I’m in. Yuki tugged me along, groaning about a literature test she had no time to study for because of our weekend together.

I was definitely, definitely listening to her with all the empathy I could muster on a dreary Monday morning sans caffeine but her voice suddenly became switched with someone else’s, like the song change on a jukebox. It was disconcerting and immediate, the difference.

“Have you seen y/n?”

In that moment, my biology teacher’s lesson from last year on the nervous system was brought to mind. I remember struggling to differentiate between autonomic and somatic systems, and then their subdivisions. I tried mnemonic devices and studying before and after bed, and every tactic in between but I only just barely passed the test on it. But watching Kuroo actually sprint towards me the connection between terms and definition finally clicked; parasympathetic is to rest-and-digest as sympathetic is to fight-or-flight. 

Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Flight. I gotta get the fuck out of here.

I throw my backpack toward the side and hear Hana yelp, and I choke out an apology as I bolt toward the other side of the courtyard, away from Kuroo, aiming to either blend into the crowd once I have enough distance or find a hole in the hedge I can crawl into. A dismembering panic quelled my existential anxiety for maintaining social appearances; yes, I know I look possessed but who gives a flying fuck?

I swerved into a connecting pathway to the sports fields, dodging mingling groups and couples seeking shade in the enclosed space. There is no way he came after me. He was probably still back there looking nonplussed after my escapade and telling my friends that he changes his mind about everything. Now all I have to do is bid my time until the homeroom opens up and avoid looking at him for the rest of the year–

“Finally,” Kuroo huffed, skidding to a stop a few feet away from me, not sounding all that winded or annoyed as I thought he might. He had a little laugh, actually. “You’re the stuff of a track team’s dreams.”

I opened my mouth to offer an explanation, or even just a joke to dispel the misery I was inevitably conjuring but I choked in place of words. I just wanted to say sorry.

It all swirled around my periphery; the nauseating golden morning sunlight, the flowering cherry blossoms, the casually provocative smiles from the people around us. It was perturbing in the same way that it was supposed to be beautiful and I couldn’t grasp onto the peace that I found yesterday. It all felt too glaring, too sensational, too much and I needed to, just needed to get the hell away from here.

And where would I go to get away from the nameless danger? I could go running back to my friends and I know they’d understand but they’d probably get exasperated with me for doing this thing again, when I already told them that I wanted to change that. I would look like a liar and they probably think I am one anyway. And a loser. And pathetic-- 

Kuroo tilts his head to the side and groans lightly.

“It’s too hot out here. Let’s get under the shade.” I had avoided looking at his face til now, unwilling and unable to focus, but the uncharacteristic tenderness in an oddly mellow voice coming from him beacons to me. A familiar twinkle in his eyes greeted me when I finally met them.

He started down a path in front of me without another word and I walked little ways behind him, using him like an umbrella, keeping my eyes down and trained to the wrinkles on his blazer that would smooth out as he moved his arms forward with every step.

It was only when we stopped under the nearly abandoned courtyard pavilion and a very deliberate silence found us that I realized he was waiting on me to say something, keeping me in his peripheral vision.

It was a pretty day for reckoning. 

“Listen, Tetsuro, I’m so out of my depth here. This all just feels so… ugh, I don’t even know where to start! I feel weird about everything and then I just have the habit of making things even more uncomfortable than they already are and I’m sorry ‘cause I can’t even look you in the eye,” I rushed all this out in a single breath, focusing on Kuroo fiddle with the lapel on his blazer. “This is all just really embarrassing.”

He nodded and looked away but not before I noticed a puckering grimace take over his face. “I get it if you don’t want to have anything to do with me but I only wanted to let you know that I told them not to do it. I told them not to make and send the flyer because it would make you uncomfortable. I’m so sorry, I would have warned you if I had my phone but the assistant coach had everyone’s confiscated–”

Oh, no. He thought he was the issue here? Did I not make it explicitly clear that I am a micro-disaster? 

“You are under no obligation to do anything now. I just really wanted to apologize. You said your piece and we could leave it there. I get it. It took a lot for you to admit that to me and your nerves are probably too shot to let me love you.” He chewed his lip, suddenly looking twitchy and apprehensive. “But I do want to just address that for a second, if that’s ok. You’re scared of your feelings, of how open I am but I am too.”

I gape like the inherent fish I am. “You’re scared?”

A bashful smile graces his face. “Of course I am. You’re beautiful and shy, and I feel like I’m always toeing the line between giving you your due appreciation and overwhelming you. And I just want to get it right! It’s the only reason I held back from confessing to you for so long.” He flushed so spectacularly and I felt my heart sucker punch me in the chest, as if to say, that’s what you get for acting so dumb.

His hair is as unkempt as it was last Friday, a defiant gravity holding his strands hostage at the center of his head. I don’t agree with anyone that says he looks like a rooster with it; to me he looked beautifully boyish. The ‘disastrous’ state of his hair always gave me the rhyme and reason to pull him down and lean closer, reprimanding him about needing to look like the adult he would soon become, all while enjoying the scent of his subtle shampoo and cologne. It was a familiar constant that I adored; one of many when it came to him.

The impulse was small enough to ignore, if I really didn’t want to go through with it, but I wanted to act on my own for once. These are my feelings and I need to work with them.

I loosely grab at his wrists and stare him down with a question I worked to make very obvious on my face. Probably not that obvious because he smiled back politely, questioningly, and I, with a single fuck it, risked it all to land a kiss on his cheek. 

How Kuroo manages to make me feel like a celebrity with one look, I’ll never understand. I hope I never learn the origin of his magic. He characteristically grins. “You’re pulling out all the stops on me, aren’t you y/n?” I hissed back a ‘shut up.’

My face burned, spotting people from across the yard turning back toward us, but I needed to see this through the end. “I meant it. I really do like you still, now, maybe forever and I have for a long time. I won’t have the easiest time expressing it but I think that’s probably a sign of it being true.”

His gleaming, curling smile became my respite at that moment, the last available seat on the subway reserved for me.

“I know, y/f/n.”

“I’m telling you, I don’t have a resume for being a girlfriend. I might not be good at this,” I warn. 

“We’ve gotten through morning traffic, presentations, and sports day together. We’ll find our way through this too.”

“I just ran away from you!”

“And I ran after you. I’m an athlete, babe. I’ll alway catch up to you.”

Hold up. Babe? I squawk. Is that my life now, am I now ‘Babe’ to the guy I’ve dreamed about since he not so figuratively dropped into my life three years ago by plopping himself next to me in our literature class, determined and friendly, with an introduction to match his chaos: my name is Kuroo Tetsuro and you look like someone with an affinity for the written word; maybe you can help me appreciate it?

Yeah, it took me a week after that to look him steady in the eye.

He holds out his hand toward me now, none of the teasing from before evident. Instead, a rush of deja vu swirls around us; he stands in front of me fatigued but patient, as he does every morning by the L line. 

I experimentally grab his hand and decide I like the weight of his palm against mine. This feels right. We’re still the same, walking next to each other into another day. With a few charming upgrades.

“Holy shit, I knew you could do it! That’s my best friend, go best friend! She’s got a boyfriend, bitches! Balls of steel, this one. Yaku, you rat, I expect my monetary compensation for sending out the lead on her whereabouts!” 

“Where else would she have been? This is school, he would’ve eventually found her so you get shit all!”

And just like that, my resolve drained, and I dropped Kuroo’s hand in favor of hiding behind his 6’2 frame from the damning draw of attention Yuki brought from her row with members of the volleyball team.

Kuroo roared his stupidly cute laugh but stayed planted in front of me, one arm twisted behind him to tenderly rub my hand.

Ah well, anxiety dies hard.

BONUS: Messages between Yuki and Yaku

Bane of my existence, master of trig: This fuckface is having a panic attack. We’ll be lucky if she comes back to school this semester let alone talks to him

Shortie with the answers (math): Kuroo isn’t doing much better but because we can’t get home until Monday night. He’s down bad

Shortie with the answers (math): Don’t tell him I said that

Shortie with the answers (math): Don’t tell y/n I said that, cause that's crossing a line in loyalty 

Bane of my existence, master of trig: Let’s make it even. Y/n doesn’t know if the possibility of him liking her back is better or worse than not liking her at all

Bane of my existence, master of trig: Oop, maybe that one was too much

Bane of my existence, master of trig: She’s only worried because it could change their relationship too much

Shortie with the answers (math): Ahhh I see

Shortie with the answers (math): This fool flexed his arms and chanted lets go lets go after he saw her text

Shortie with the answers (math): While we were on a snack break with the guys from five other schools

Shortie with the answers (math): He’s pouting cause she hasn’t answered her back and the other guys won’t stop following him flexing and yelling LETS GO

Bane of my existence, master of trig: Glad the suffering is universal

Shortie with the answers (math): GET HER TO ANSWER HER DAMN PHONE

Bane of my existence, master of trig: SHE HAS ANXIETY BE SYMPATHETIC 

Bane of my existence, master of trig: BUT ALSO FUCK THEM FOR DRAGGING US INTO THEIR MESS

Shortie with the answers (math): Damn right

Shortie with the answers (math): Don’t forget to send me the answers to the packet by Monday nite

Bane of my existence, master of trig: Fuck off

Bane of my existence, master of trig: noted

Bane of my existence, master of trig: Word on the street is she’ll be in school today YOU OWE ME 2000 YEN NO TAKE BACKS DELIVER OR DIE

Shortie with the answers (math): FUCK OFF

[aroturier]

So Now That's Sorted...

Maybe I'll be able to post my thoughts on the latest chpter (187.)

Poor Bard.

Well, we all knew it was coming, right? But did anyone else feel like the penny might've dropped too? Like, perhaps there's a reason why this got released on the same date as Agni died five years ago?

Well, maybe that was just a coincidence. But cast your mind back. Remember what we could tell about the person who killed Agni? Well, obviously they liked knives. Like, REALLY liked knives. We couldn't decide if there was one or two assailants, but we knew at least one of them wore a hooded coat-robe, a garment we've since identified as the one the goons on Undertaker's side seem to favour. In fact they're all wearing them in the scenes today. But Yana has taken care to show us their chins, that none of them are anything like the dainty, childlike chin on the robed assassin who did for Agni.

I think that was what first started me thinking. We've just been presented with a less than adult sized character wielding a knife who has a very childlike face.

Now I just read someone speculating that maybe she's more than she appears to be, since a child wouldn't be expected to have the arm strength to stab into a grown man's body deep enough to puncture his lung the way this bint's just done. Bard's spitting up blood, ergo he's been stabbed deeply, his lung is punctured. So yeah, maybe she is more than she appears. Doesn't make much sense having a little girl as a nurse in a sanitorium anyway, so she's about as odd and out of place as she can be. But earlier Yana drew a couple of dwarfs who were acrobats in the circus arc without doing much research on the conditions that cause dwarfism, so for the longest time the younger readers were largely unaware Peter and Wendy weren't children and us adults were a little puzzled as well. So this, too, might be a person born with dwarfism. Or the reanimated body of someone with that condition, or unusual strength might be a by-product of that process we just haven't been made aware of yet or she could be some sort of supernatural. But that is neither here nor there to me right now. What I want to talk about is who she might be.

The question I want to pose is, could this girl or woman the murderer of Agni? And a lot more upsettingly, might this girl have been involved in the entire story of what happened to Ciel and his brother right from the get-go? Have any of you noticed yet the placement of that knife wound? Did anyone see that the first stab wound Agni got was a low one as well? He didn't get the ones up in his shoulders until after he was on his knees, already dying, hanging onto that doorknob, protecting his prince. Did anyone happen to notice where Tanaka was stabbed the night of the twins' birthday party? Exactly the same spot as Bard. In the back, so low several people thought R!Ciel might've done it. Right at the point of the scapula, right where somebody who knew their anatomy would stab and then twist to try and reach the heart from the back.

Could be a big coincidence. Or not. Yana's a great one for fooling us with what's just out of our eyeline and hidden by speech bubbles and such. If the pint-sized nurse isn't smiling though, she looks quite a lot like the person with the knives who did for Agni. But to be fair, so would R!Ciel. What most of us who enjoy this speculation game do feel fairly certain of is there were two assailants that day at the townhouse: one with a gun, the one whom Soma was sure was the earl, (and jeez, I'm just sure he's going to come back and kill our Ciel or give it his best shot,) and one wearing a hood who was wielding knives.

I'll say it again. I think we are rounding the last turn and heading into the final stretch of this story. Of course, at the rate of only this many pages a month, it might take us another fifteen years to finish it.

Thoughts?

[un2-verse]

BILLY — Kim Taehyung (1)

》 News of a Sadistic Serial Killer nicknamed “Jigsaw” is spreading around town like wildfire… the nickname stemming from the puzzle piece he cuts from every victim’s body. No one knows who he’ll trap next but in a town full of delinquents and criminals, it could never be you. Right? 《

pairings: john kramer!taehyung x female reader

warnings: dark themes, angst, yandere, murder, torture, self harm, suicide, stalking etc.... (will add more when i know lol) although it is rather innocent in the first couple chapters(?) so idk it could be slow burn but i guess we’ll find out as i write it >< ,, it’s my version of saw if saw was a fucked up love story lol. Please don’t read if any of the topics mentioned trigger you!! 18+

this fic is exactly that, fiction!!!! the au does not represent the characters mentioned irl......

synopsis: you end up lost on the other side of town, where you cross paths with a handsome stranger, kim taehyung, only.... are you a stranger to him?

[a/n: daffodils represent; love me, sympathy, desire and affection returned...]

word count: 3k

series masterlist

part two

——————————————————————————

Hiding behind a mask was something you were accustomed to. Your friend group and family were clueless to the torment you endured from simply existing. You were confident your masking had convinced the world you were happy with yourself. Unbeknown to you, one other person saw straight through your façade.

You wanted to end your life.

He needed you to cherish your life.

Nothing looked familiar. The café you frequented was nowhere to be found. Your usual hangout was most definitely not on the side of town you found yourself in. You felt anxiety slowly curl its way around your body, you were frigid. You tried and tried but couldn’t find it in yourself to run.

You lived in the more friendly part of town (so to speak) – where houses were colourful, gardens pristine, warm-hearted neighbours who would treat you like family and white picket fences are what surrounded you. That was your norm, sure, you weren’t exactly loaded but you weren’t exactly poor either. It was a healthy balance in the middle. That’s not to say you hadn’t lived or seen this side of town before.

Your Mother and Father had grown up on this side of the fence. Two young people brought up in the rougher, more unfortunate areas. Your Mother was tough; she looked like a naïve, weak girl, albeit that was not the case. She was strong willed, used to life on the streets and doing anything she could to get money to make sure there was at least some food on the table. While your Mum was the leader, your Dad was more of a sheep. He was easily influenced and was dragged into the wrong crowd (had his fair share with drugs and street racing). That was their life for a few years till they crossed paths and your Mum helped your Dad get back on the right track.

They didn’t tell you much about their childhood and adolescence but they told you enough to make you appreciate what you have and to always work hard for it. To stick with the right people, be wise and conscious of your decisions. Be kind to those around you.

Your family owned a garage; your Dad was the head mechanic. This was the sole reason you were here. You knew it wouldn’t be simple when you agreed to go to this side of town to get a few bits for your Father’s shop. However, you didn’t expect it to be this difficult. How could you be so stupid? Why didn’t you just ask Hoseok and Yoongi to come with you like your father told you to? Or at least tell them where you were… yet you decided today of all days to be stubborn and venture on yourself, knowing full well how unsafe the area was. There were rundown businesses on either side of the road, beggars at every doorstep; drug dealings happening in broad daylight, no one even trying to hide it.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, you took it out and sighed a breath of relief once you’d read the texts.

14:37— From Papa: U ok munchkin ??? Did u get the stuff ?

14:39— From Papa: its ok if u didnt. Yoongs rang said hes got majority this morning lol so be safe n get home soon . Love u

14:40— To Papa: ohhh ok pops, i couldn’t find the shop anyway lol i’ll head back soon, love u too x

*LOW BATTERY*

“Fuck, trust me to forget to charge the bastard.” You rolled your eyes as you stuffed the phone back in your pocket.

Muffled shouting was heard around you. People ran across the street, bumping into you as they ran past. You gathered yourself and moved further down the path. “Great!” you exasperated, “honestly I’m so fucking stupid! Yoongi’s gonna kill me for this, I knew, I knew I should’ve told him I was coming over here but no,” your head was hung low as you dragged your feet across the pavement, “maybe I could tell Hobi, he wouldn’t be as angry right? I’m sure he’ll come,“ A sudden scream ripped you out of your chuntering. You whipped your head to the right, you could make out some figures bustling about in front of you, a group of men were quite clearly fighting… your anxiety struck you and you held your breath as you saw a man pull a knife from the waistband of his sweatpants. All thoughts and common sense seemed to leave all at once. Statue like, feet stuck to the ground. You watched on as the group rushed towards the brown haired man, you scanned his figure: tall, broad, confident… he exuded an intimidating aura even when you were this far away from him.

How could someone be so sure of themselves? It was one against five, surely the loner had no chance?

The glistening of the knife brought you back to your senses. Fucking hell. How do you always end up in these situations when you’re alone? Why me? Why? Good Lord, I need to run. Just as you were about to leave, the group who were arguing charged past you; one gripped his side as another supported his weight. Holy fuck, did he stab him? you stood frozen, yet again, your mind raced a mile a minute. Panic bubbled in your chest.

“You okay there Doll?” His voice was deep, velvet-like. It flowed so smoothly you doubted it was real, it was so soothing like it had wrapped itself around you, embracing your body. You heard his footsteps before he planted himself beside you. His shoulder reached the top of your head, his hand brushed yours. Swallowing your nerves you dared a glance up. He was fucking breath-taking, like a fallen angel. The stranger shot you a small smile that you would’ve easily missed had you not been staring at his features… a blush crept up your neck as you nodded. His smile slowly twisted into a smirk.

Cute, Taehyung thought to himself. Couldn’t help but adore the way you slightly trembled under his gaze, the way your hands gripped and twisted your sweater paws. Almost like a puppy. He cleared his throat and reached his hand to yours, “Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Taehyung.” you took his hand into yours, apprehensively you greeted him, “I’m Y/N.”

“Ah, Y/N. I haven’t seen you round here before, you new or something?” Taehyung cocked his head to the side, his eyes seemed to stare right through you.

“Uhm, I don’t live here. I live over the other part of Town… I was just grabbing some stuff for my Dad but, my phones about to die. I have no idea where I am or how to get home, I’m sorry, I promise I didn’t see anything!” a deep chuckle cut you off, Taehyung smiled and beckoned you to follow him.

“Come on Y/N, you’re not suited for this side of Town, I’ll walk you back. A pretty little thing like you, you’re easy prey to these guys.” your feet fell into a cautious pace behind him, he glanced over his shoulder, “hurry up Buttercup, I don’t bite.” Taehyung flashed a boxy grin in your direction, which caused you to speed up ever so slightly.

You were unsure how you felt about letting a complete stranger walk you home, Yoongi would definitely kill you for this. Especially with the recent news of some serial killer named ‘Jigsaw’, Yoongi and Hoseok had been very stern and their usual, overprotective selves when the news had broken out. “It’s on every headline Y/Nie! No more leaving the house on yourself, you need to go anywhere you ring either of us. Got it? Don’t talk to anyone you don’t know either. There’s some dodgy fucks about recently.” Although, you loved them dearly, sometimes their protectiveness was a...little overbearing. You already felt suffocated from your parents (you didn’t need it from your best friends as well). They were happy and believed you to be too; but that was exhausting, faking happiness. You had a constant façade, acted like a happy normal teenager with a happy family; when that was far from the truth.

Drowning. That’s how you’d explain the way you felt. Breathing was difficult and brought you more pain than it was worth. Growing up was tedious, you had grown differently to your peers which only brought ridicule and embarrassment for you. You had struggled with your speech (sometimes you still do), you often stuttered, mispronounced words, the list was endless. That was one of the first reasons you were a castaway. As you grew, the ridicule worsened. Verbal abuse turned physical from your classmates. They made you feel like you were a waste of space. The names they called you, you soon started to believe them. Ugly. Weird. Freak. Stupid. They took root in your brain, slowly they grew and grew till your head was overgrown with twisted, rotten weeds.

Eventually, you sought comfort in blood. You didn’t care that it hurt you; you were almost happy to feel pain. Like you deserved to.

By age 14, you had started to skip school. Only ever there for exams and a couple of art classes you had with Jeongguk. He was what you would’ve called a best friend, he supported you and was by your side till you left school. He went away to college and like always with school friends, you drifted apart. Nevertheless, he still texts you now and then to check in.

Although you were (once) close with Jeongguk. He never knew of your inner demons, the same with Yoongi and Hoseok. You didn’t want to feel like a burden and worry your friends when they had shit to worry about themselves.

Why devastate flowers that flourish beautifully with weeds that manage to twist their way around every crack?

You had walked for a few minutes now, having chatted absentmindedly about anything and everything. The roads still didn’t look familiar to you and you just wished they did, you didn’t want to be away from your home any longer, your feet were starting to ache, your phone was on 10% battery and it was fucking cold. You just wanted to be back in bed tucked up watching Lady and the Tramp or 101 Dalmatians for the millionth time. You felt safe and content when you indulged in your comfort films. Far away from the real world and wrapped up in the false reality. They easily distracted you and that's when you truly felt at peace. Your mind was always too busy thinking about how cute it was when Tramp calls Lady, Pidge or how in love Pongo and Perdy were.

Majority of the time you fantasised about having a love similar, but then again, why would you wanna make yourself vulnerable like that? Is the risk of being hurt (more than you are now) any good? Of course it’s not. Fuck that, life isn’t nothing like those shitty romance films or novels… It’s real and painful.

As you and Taehyung rounded the corner, a little cafe caught your eye, a dainty blue and pink building. Fairy Lights strung up around the windows, you could see a handful of people inside, busy sipping their drinks and chatting away to one another. ‘Aroma Mocha’ hung above the doors. It looked so cute and simple. Your previous thoughts left your mind as quick as they had come. You wanted to go inside, it had an enticing atmosphere.

Taehyung hadn’t realised you’d stopped walking until he couldn’t hear the soft thud of your footsteps behind him, he turned as he called out to you, your eyes still fixed on the cafe. He chuckled to himself, “Fucking adorable, like a kid at christmas,” he walked back over to you. “Hey Doll, you wanna go in?” He felt his heart quicken when you looked at him with those pretty eyes, “We’ve plenty of time to get you back before it’s dark angel.” You answered him with a nod as you turned your head from Taehyung to look back at the alluring little cafe.

Not a second had passed before Taehyung grabbed your hand and pulled you across the road to the entrance; you ignored the warmth of his hand as it intertwined with yours; you ignored the way your tummy erupted with butterflies. Taehyung had stopped to hold the door for you, you murmured a small, “thank you,” looking up at him, the heat that crept up your cheeks making your face resemble that of a doll’s he thought to himself. Once he ushered you fully inside, he placed his hand to rest on the curve of your waist as he guided you to the back corner of the room, where a quaint table for two was unoccupied, a little pot of Daffodils sat atop. How fitting...

Taehyung was quick to pull the chair out for you to take a seat, you pulled it in as you sat down and sent a shy smile his way, “I’m sorry, I know we just met Taehyung but this place is so fucking precious! I hope I’m not bothering you, if I am we can just carry on walking or, I could ring a Taxi? Is this weird? Oh god, I can’t believe--”, Taehyung threw his head back as he laughed, a sound that seemed to wrap its way around your soul, twisting around your heart in the nicest of ways, it was almost like a killer to the weeds taking over your body. A temporary release. You felt like you could really breathe in those short seconds of his laughter.

“Angel, if you were bothering me, I’d have kept on walking. That, or I would’ve called you a Taxi myself, it’s no problem honestly.” You ducked your head as he sent a wink your way, fuck sake Y/N get it together! Why are you acting like a fucking schoolgirl?

“Well I uh, appreciate it so, yeah thank you?” You don’t know what to do, you’re here with the most gorgeous person you’ve ever laid your eyes on… yet you have no clue if what you saw was real, did Taehyung stab someone? Could someone have had the knife who wasn’t Taehyung? Was he even the person you saw in that altercation? Did you imagine everything that had gone off?

Before you had chance to overthink it, a light bubbly voice greeted your ears, “Hi! Welcome to Aroma Mocha, I’m Jimin and I’ll be your server today. Is there anything I can get you?” Jimin held his gaze on you as he flashed you a friendly smile, Taehyung turned around at the sound of his best friend, “Oh, Tae! I wasn’t expecting to see you today, what are you doing here? And who’s this pretty little lady?”

“This is Y/Nie, she was in the neighbourhood so we thought we’d nip in for something to drink before I take her back to hers.” you sent a warm smile to Jimin which he gladly returned, “I’ll have my usual and can you get Y/Nie a Strawberry Iced Tea? Thanks man.”

Once Jimin had disappeared to make your drinks, you shot your eyes to Taehyung, “Uhm, how’d you know I like Strawberry Iced Tea?” Taehyung didn’t even look in your direction as he scrolled through his phone, eyes glued to the screen. A minute passed by and he’d still not acknowledged your question so you let it slide, it wasn’t that big of a deal right? Your mind drifted. Your fingers rested atop of your lap, hidden from the sight of onlookers, picking around your nails as anxiety flooded your body. You felt like you were about to suffocate. You shouldn’t be talking to anyone, you shouldn’t let anyone close. You were only going to fuck everything up in a heartbeat. It’s only natural. Self deprecating thoughts devoured and made their way through your veins, poisoning yourself further; your whole body felt as though it was alight.

Jimin brought you your drinks, placed them carefully in front of the pair of you as you both said your thanks.

The click of Taehyung’s phone being locked and the clearing of his throat brought you back to your senses. “The drink I ordered for you is popular here so, I assumed you’d like to try it. You wanna talk about what’s bothering you?” your eyes shot up to meet his, your head tilted a little to the left as your tongue wet your lip, so puppy like...

You stared incredulously, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Taehyung.” You leant forward slightly as you wrapped your lips around the straw and took a sip.

Taehyung saw the way you sucked your drink up through your straw, his eyes darkened. Thankful to have worn sweatpants that day, he shifted himself discreetly, “I’m not stupid Angel, I know what you’re doing under the table. I’m here, so talk to me. I’ll listen to whatever you gotta say.”

You stuttered as you wracked your brain for something to say, “I-I only met you like forty minutes ago, I don’t even tell my friends what’s wrong. Not that there is, everything’s fine.”

You met me just short of an hour ago, he thought to himself, “You don’t have to lie to me Y/Nie…” he grabbed your hands that were laid near the cup of your Iced Tea. His thumb rubbing circles onto the back of your hand. You looked small and fragile, like the Daffodils on the table; one little pluck and you’d be ruined. He wouldn’t admit it to you just yet but, Taehyung fucking loved how delicate you seemed as you sat across from him.

How easy it would be to take your life away. How easy it’d be to pull those weeds up that are poisoning you, torturing you every single day. He shook his head, as he cleared those thoughts. No, only Y/N can make that decision. I’m just going to help her choose.

Live or Die.

You visibly winced, “You don’t know me. Think whatever the fuck you want about me, it doesn’t matter.” your eyes flashed hurt as you went back to picking your skin. You knew it, this whole encounter was too good to be true. A complete stranger (well acquaintance technically) had just presumed shit about you, the fact he was right is what hurt more. You didn’t want anyone to know how you were feeling. Or how you were dealing with it.

You couldn’t exactly tell him to piss off, you still needed his help home and so you tried to distract yourself from the unsettling gaze that watched your every move. You let out a breath as Taehyung went back to his phone. Your eyes drifted as you picked up the local Newspaper, your eyes skimmed over the headline, ‘Jigsaw Traps Continue’. Taehyung noticed you staring at the front page, and chuckled, “you scared of Jigsaw Angel?”

You shook your head, why would you be scared of some nutjob who’s targeted criminals and drug dealers? You’re a nobody. “Of some psychopathic puppet?” if anyone did anything to you that would threaten your life, it would be you. Taehyung just laughed in return as you skipped the article and skim-read the other pointless stories.

You were fucking clueless as to who he was while he knew every little thing about you. He had watched you for months… His precious little Y/Nie… Oh how silly you were, taking your life for granted.

You hated yourself that much, you were willingly marking yourself up. Tainting your skin… oh your skin, how fucking beautiful and soft it looked, even with all the scars it still looked perfect… Taehyung wanted nothing more than to whisk you away and lock you inside with him. Forever. He didn’t want anyone touching what was his.

He knew you wore a mask when in public, too afraid to show your real self. Little did you know, he wore a mask himself...only he wore it to better other people.

He had a plan.

And you’d soon find out.

Let the games begin.

[vincememes]

brooklyn 99 starters

change pronouns as necessary; quotes were taken out of context & are in no specific order.

❛  the english language can’t fully capture the depth & complexity of my thoughts. ❜  

❛  i’m incorporating emojis into my speech to better express myself. winky face.  ❜

❛  with all due respect, i am gonna completely ignore everything you just said.  ❜  

❛  a place where everybody knows your name is hell. you’re describing hell. ❜  

❛  cool, cool, cool, cool, cool. no doubt, no doubt, no doubt.   ❜  

❛  if i die, turn my tweets into a book.  ❜  

❛  anyone over the age of six celebrating a birthday should go to hell. ❜  

❛  why don’t you just do the right thing and jump out of a window? ❜  

❛  i asked them if they wanted to embarrass you, and they instantly said yes. ❜  

❛  turn your greatest weakness into your greatest strength.  ❜  

❛  the doc said all my bleeding was internal, that's where the blood's supposed to be. ❜  

❛  do you see me as a father figure? ❜  

❛  no. if anything i see you as a bother figure, because you're always bothering me. ❜  

❛  can you magically make everyone kind, sober, and fully dressed?  ❜  

❛  title of your sex tape.  ❜  

❛  piece of advice: just give up.  ❜  

❛  ok, no hard feelings, but i hate you. not joking. bye.    ❜  

❛   do you bring me joy? no, because you’re boring and you’re too hard. see ya.  ❜  

❛   good to see you. but if you’re here, who’s guarding hades? ❜  

❛  fine, but in protest, i’m walking over there extremely slowly! ❜  

❛   hi, (name), the human form of the 100 emoji. ❜  

❛  leave me a voice mail. i won’t check it ’cause it’s not 1993.  ❜  

❛  i was born for politics. i have great hair and i love lying. ❜

❛  the only thing i’m not good at is modesty, because i’m great at it.  ❜  

❛  thank you. your entire life is garbage.  ❜  

❛  i’m scared of businessmen. ❜  

❛  that's the worst part of both of those things.   ❜  

❛   hey! welcome to the murder.  ❜  

❛   are those gummy bears wrapped in a fruit roll-up? ❜  

❛  if anything happened to them, i would kill everyone in this room and then myself.  ❜  

❛  i just forget stuff like a cool person.  ❜  

❛  yeah. i'd rather walk into the freezing ocean.  ❜  

❛  i never throw up. i just tell my stomach to deal with it. my body is terrified of me.  ❜

❛  huh. i'm surprised you're not celebrating inappropriately.  ❜  

❛  i don't slump, people. i opposite of slump. i pmuls. that's slump backwards.   ❜  

❛  it's been stressful, and it went so well. seriously, look at me, i cannot stop smiling.  ❜  

❛  i mean, you know how that sounds, right?  ❜  

❛  has anyone ever told you you look just like a statue?  ❜  

❛  ooh, someone's in trouble. it's me. i don't know why i did that.   ❜  

❛  you're smiling. it's very weird. like seeing a turtle out of its shell.  ❜  

❛  i've said "excuse me" more times this morning than i have in my entire life. twice! ❜  

❛  i'd make an amazing prostitute.  ❜  

❛  well, let's cancel the entire evening and try again next year.  ❜  

❛  curse my beautiful bubble butt.  ❜ 

[bbq-hawks-wings]

Chapter 316: BBQ is capable of critiquing BNHA and… Oh boy.

Let's start this off properly, Horikoshi's typical quality of writing has been diminishing in recent chapters, but this week it was so different that it didn't even feel like Horikoshi was the one who wrote it.

To be clear, I'm not blaming Horikoshi for the issues I'm about to bring up. The man is criminally overworked, usually doesn't even get the final say in what makes it in the final drafts, and even in his other rough patches he's still produced decent chapters that hold up amongst the grand scheme of things. This feels like something else is going on behind the scenes, and while I have my suspicions on who/what might be the culprit behind it, I choose not to share it at this time because if I name names some people might go off on a crusade, and that's not what I want.

I just want to be clear that I'm not blindly firing off shots in the dark, but despite my frustrations I want to wait to see if this gets resolved down the line, and while I do I can complain about the specific reasons this chapter left such a bitter taste in my mouth.

Buckle up, buttercups, because we got a lot of points to cover.

Where's the Gun?

Not a literal gun, but I mean Chekhov's Gun. It has always been a staple of Horikoshi's writing and the reason so many of his long-standing plot lines have paid off so well.

Chekhov's Gun is a writing principal that if you see a gun on the table in the first act of a play, it will be used in the murder that happens in act 2. Basically, the author should include details that are relevant to the story and not betray the audience by leading them in one direction and at the last minute pull the rug out from underneath them to go in another direction.

Horikoshi has done this to phenomenal success in the past. Just as one example, he dropped hints about Nomu being human experiments early in the series but held off explicitly stating it for a while. He hinted at the loss of Shirakumo in the main narrative and that he was important to Aizawa and Mic as well as approved it for Vigilantes so when it was revealed that Kurogiri was Shirakumo's body, not only did it narratively make sense but it also pulled in Eraserhead and Present Mic's emotional stakes into the battle with the Doctor, and then when Ujiko reveals he was after Aizawa's quirk the whole time it made the payoff for Mic punching him in the face all that much better and brings the weight of his crimes and the impact they have on the victims full circle.

That's 3 different guns paying off in the long run: the Nomu, Shirakumo, and both Mic and Eraserheads' personal arcs past the loss of their childhood friend and that they could finally finish processing their grief and avenge him in full righteous fury instead of chalking it all up to cruel chance.

He has left details, some particularly innocuously, in plot lines like the Touya Todoroki reveal, Hawks' backstory, Shigaraki's blood connection to Nana Shimura, even with Mr. Compress's backstory, and more. When re-read, these details become more obvious and usually leaves us with a greater sense of satisfaction in the plot knowing that twists and turns were not only planned, but built up to and hinted at for us to find so the payoff is that much better and it feels purposeful instead of just shock factor.

None of that happened this chapter.

Lady Nagant has zero business being in this plotline. She was never hinted about before this arc, and her existence does nothing to tell us about the plot moving forward or the world that they're trying to change. Nothing her existence provides actually has any bearing on the universe or tells us anything we don't already know. But that's not how she was presented.

In the beginning we're given a glimpse of her helping Overhaul escape from Tartarus. The focus on her was odd enough to begin with as a new character, and the fact that she didn't look like she fit the profile of someone who belonged in Tartarus was like a flashing neon sign saying, "Pay attention! This new character is important!!!" She then shows up later with Overhaul in hand to attack Deku out of the blue. We get her talking about how she thought Overhaul might be useful and her disillusions with Hero Society. We catch her mannerisms with eery similarity to Hawks only to find out immediately after she was a senior colleague in the HPSC. Never once to my knowledge has Hawks referred to any of his senior colleagues as a "senpai" - not even his fellow heroes - and when he catches her in midair, he uses the words, "Don't die on me, senpai!" as if she's near and dear to his heart.

The entire character arc is set up for her to have known about Hawks and grapple with her desire to help people and her fear of re-creating what she hated, and this also set up Hawks to be the successor who succeeded where she failed and helped bring her to a place where she could be a hero without guilt again. What actually happened?

They're strangers.

They have never actually met before, and while he seems to know a lot about her, she doesn't even seem to have any idea of who he was - at least as far as being another hero under the thumb of the HPSC. So ALLLL that setup, all that gesturing, and all of the potential themes that would be right at home in an arc like this goes completely out the window.

Her story doesn't tell us anything new. The HPSC bad. We knew that. They're not above throwing innocents under the bus to achieve that goal. We knew that. They preyed upon young hopefuls with powerful quirks with the intent to maintain the status quo. We knew that even if the fact that Hawks isn't the only one now makes more questions than answers. We know that these young heroes can never say no under threat of steep, life-shattering consequences. We knew that already.

So what does Lady Nagant even bring to the table?! The entire "you're just a puppet doing what you've been told" angle is a little tired and out of place in this point and time with actual anarchy in the streets (not to mention hypocritical considering she was a blind puppet following orders and offers zero actual solutions that supposedly fall in line with her heroic nature), and it could have been left to any number of other villain characters who could have executed on the theme better - you know, like Shigaraki who's justification this entire time has been, "hero society doesn't make people safe, it just makes them feel safe" from the moment of his inception.

So from that angle she's unnecessary.

Her presence messes with the continuity of the series as well. If Hawks is supposed to explicitly replace her, that would mean that he wasn't just a fluke find on the commission's part and grabbed to mold into their own special superweapon; and that also would mean that her killing of the former president was before he was discovered which should put her at least in her forties. If this isn't the case, and he was meant to simply replace her in a "special agent" case, that still begs the question of how many more gifted children the commission preyed upon and are still out there.

And maybe the worst kicker for me is that something stinks. The way the art in this chapter is presented, if you completely blanked out the speech bubbles, is the same setup I had before - Hawks reaches out to his former mentor and pulls her from the brink of despair with a moving message about why he never gave up hope in being a hero who could actually make a difference.

Again, this is not what we got. He claims he knows her, and it's implied to have been a deep, personal character witness; but at best he only knows about her from secondhand sources. Even his reasoning as to how he never lost hope doesn't vibe with his character.

We have gotten so many cool one-liners for Hawks, but there has always been a consistent tone and imagery with them.

"Those who can fly, should."

"I don't belong in a cage."

"I'm free of my shackles."

"Can I be a shining light, just like him?"

What we got was, "I'm an optimist to a fault" which was the wording the official release went with and was by far the best iteration I have seen, but even this falls short of being truly in character for him and answering her question properly.

@mikeana made an edit of the titular panels for us Hawks stans this week with dialogue we and a few other friends felt was more fitting not only with the imagery of the chapter itself but internally consistent with the specific expressions Hawks uses in his heartfelt, personal dialogue. I just tweaked it a little bit more to fit what I was going for in our original conversation.

Which brings me to another concern.

2. What's the point?

There was no use for Nagant in the series as she's been presented so far. But more than that, Hawks has no business in this fight to begin with. He literally did nothing to earn this emotional moment, and this should have been Deku's moment.

We were teased in an interview with Horikoshi that Hawks was going to get a special moment as an important end-game character as a "shining light" of hope for others to follow as well as promises for Ochako to have another moment in the spotlight to make a difference.

If this was Hawks' shining light moment, it wasn't necessary, and it does nothing to move the plot forward or develop characters in any true or believable way. It just happened because plot. This should have been Deku's victory through and through, and even he is the reason BOTH Hawks and Nagant made it out alive instead of painting the street below them.

Deku's victory was stolen from him, too. It sours the other promises made to us about other characters moving forward, as well, if this really was Hawks' "Shining Light" moment.

By the way, did you forget about Overhaul? Me too!!! What was the point of getting our hopes up about reintroducing this beloved character with the implications this was a major arc setup to have him scream about pops and then get detained with no clues about what's going to happen to him besides, "Say you're sorry to Eri, and you get to see pops"?!

All this posturing and clumsy narrative flailing only actually succeeded in getting Deku in front of AFO again for plot when we already know Mr. Potato Head could summon, show himself to, or find Deku at any time he wanted. But instead we get this time skip with a bunch of heroes completely mended walking into a big, spooky mansion for AFO to evil monologue at Deku for… *counts*

FOUR PAGES!!!

Only to then give him the "I want YOU!" point over a pre-recorded message and the final nail in the coffin to me that something is off.

3. Ex-pu-LOOOO-SHUN!

It's become almost a game among friends to count how many explosions have happened since the end of the war arc - and specifically fake-out explosions. In the end of 311 we get All Might's car attacked via explosion and Deku cornered by Nagant only for All Might to be fine in the next chapter. In 315 Lady Nagant herself explodes in a blaze of glory to once again not be dead.

Gee! I wOnDeR if aLl the heroes were AcTuAlLy cornered and KiLlEd in that explosion in the mansion!

None of us do. They're fine. We're going to see it first thing next week. The shock has worn off, and it's repetitive and annoying at this point. There is no cliffhanger despite how the framing might try to tell you otherwise.

It's BAD WRITING.

The writing has been moving far too quickly and clumsily with no explanation in sight, and even character interactions are being cut short to the point of them being meaningless and empty.

This doesn't even feel like Horikoshi's bad writing. It feels like someone else is trying to call the shots and rushing him through these final bits of the series, and he's run out of things he's previously set up for months and months to reappear so someone is trying to get Dabi-reveal levels of attention with arcs and storylines that don't have the build-up to result in a satisfactory payoff.

4. At least it can get better... I hope.

Maybe those who share my suspicions or know what particular suspicions I have are with me in believing that this is a temporary disappointment and we haven't seen the last of the writing that's captivated me for years. I don't blame Horikoshi for these glaring faults that all came to a head in this chapter.

It CAN get better later, and I think it WILL- we just probably are going to have to wait for it. Until then, I'm going to enjoy the Hawks panels we got, maybe edit the last few chapters to be more in line with something more like the BNHA I know in a "fix it fic" fashion so I don't groan in anticipation of how long it might take us to get there.

See you all next week, hopefully on a much brighter note.

[spencers-dria]

Can you maybe write something where the reader meets spencer in prison and when they get out, they meet up and they have really rough and kinky sex like you can literally go as dirty and kinky as you want

Four Feet Apart

🎉150 follower celebration! Day 6

Spencer x fem reader

Content/Trigger Warnings: 18+ Smut, oral female receiving, anal play, blindfold/sensory play, and handcuff/restraint use, protected penetrative sex, mentions of murder, prison

The beginning is a little angst, little fluff, plenty of smut!

“Alright inmates, listen up! There’s been some budget cuts. For the time being, the old west wing building will be taken by overflow from the women’s prison.”

The guard’s voice was overtaken by wolf whistles and hollers.

“That’s enough! Now you will not share a building with them. You will not see them during meals. However the courtyards do share a fence. If you are caught harassing them in any way, you will be punished accordingly!”

The announcement had caught the attention of just about every inmate, except one. Spencer Reid had bigger problems to worry about than women. He didn’t get them outside of prison, so why should he worry about them on the inside. He needed to worry about how to stay safe, stay alive until his name was cleared. That is, until he met you.

_______________________________________

I sat on the bleachers, popping some bubble gum as I searched for some worthwhile eye candy. The sun was a bit hot so I shrugged my button down off my shoulders, opting to tie it around my waist, leaving me in a white tank. This of course leads to many wondering eyes and a few whistles from the men’s side of the fence. I’m not even sure what i’m looking for, but none of the men giving me the time of day have it. I finally notice a slender man sitting on the men’s bleachers, just a few feet away from the fence on his side. I scoot up , slipping my fingers through the women’s chain-link side. Of course I could never touch any of them, with each side having about four feet between their respective fences. But there were no rules against looking or talking even.

“Hey. Think too hard and you’re gonna mess up that pretty face of yours.”

He looks up a bit startled, but his posture changes once his gaze lands on me. He almost looks shy, which seems in direct contrast to his rugged look. But once I look in his eyes, I see depth and warmth and kindness that belongs far away from this place, and it hurts me for a moment, to think of what will happen to him here.

“I don’t bite. The name is Y/L/N. Got in for killing my ex husband. How about you?”

He blinked, speechless at first.

“Doc- I’m uh, Spencer Reid. They think I killed someone too…”

“Well, didn’t you?”

He shook his head. Based on the look in his eyes, I want to believe him I really do.

“Did you know that incarceration of women has been growing at twice the rate of men’s incarceration?”

“Now how in the world would you know that?”

He simply shrugged.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Just looked like you could use some company is all.”

He looked like he wanted to respond, he really did. But before he got the chance, the women were called back inside.

I give a quick salute. “Nice meetin ya Spencer Reid. See ya when I see ya.”

___________________________________________

The next time I saw him he looked different. Scared, fragile, and a bit bloodied up.

“Hey- what uh- I mean, are you okay?”

He refused to look up or give much of an answer. But he was sitting in the same spot, close enough for us to have another conversation so I have to believe he wanted to talk again.

“I’m guessing you’re relatively new. It happened to me too ya know. Especially when I wouldn’t just go along with everything they asked.”

That drew his attention, and I could see tears in his eyes.

“You can’t let them see they get to you, that you’re scared. I learned that long before I got here though. That’s why I killed him ya know- he hurt me and I couldn’t just take it anymore. Police wouldn’t listen. I just wanted it to stop.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I shrugged it off. I’m paying my time but I’m safer in here than I ever felt with him.”

“Can you keep a secret?”

Now he has my attention. I nod, trying not to seem too excited to be sharing schoolyard secrets with the handsome stranger.

“I uh, was in the FBI. I was framed by a, well you can almost call her an arch nemesis of sorts.” He laughed to himself. It was a warm sort of laugh that filled me with butterflies. “I was just trying to get medicine for my mom. She has Alzheimer’s and schizophrenia. She was getting worse and I-“ his words are quickly cut off by the sounds of sniffles.

“Why are you telling me this?” I don’t mean it to be rude, but I had to know.

“I guess you could say I’m good at reading people and- you’re not a bad person. I trust you.”

In that moment, our eyes met again, but something new was there. Desire? Lust? Caring? Who knows. But that was the start of something. Of daily meetings, and quiet longing.

Day after day we would sit by our fences, sharing stories of our lives before prison. I learned that he was kind, hard-working, and actually quite funny. Spencer Reid was the best company I’d had in years, and not just within the prison walls.

He also told me about the rough time of it he was having on his own side. I gave him pointers where I could. How to get in with the right people, how to avoid the wrong ones, and how to get himself safe when necessary.

At one point, the politics on his side did endanger his life, and that’s when we came up with the plan together. A plan that would help take down the very man targeting him while getting Spencer somewhere safe for now. This meant I wouldn’t see him while he was in solitary, but we both knew it was necessary.

We never spoke about exactly what it was we wanted but- it was there. We devoured one another with our eyes. Biting and licking lips, drawn out breaths, and lingering gazes. We knew.

I watched him change overtime. His hair and beard grew yes, but so did this darkness in his eyes. The soft, Bambi-eyed boy was seemingly gone, replaced by a man who needed to hurt someone, anyone. And oh was I ready to let him hurt me.

I waited by the fence each day for his return, but it never came. I finally decided to ask around until I heard something that thrilled me but also left a huge gaping hole in me.

“He left.”

I couldn’t be happier for him. Had they cleared his name? From the sound of it, federal agents, friends of his had come to retrieve him. I could only hope that he was safe and happy.

Then one day I received a letter.

Dear Y/N,

I miss you. Just you. You made my time there worthwhile, worth missing. There’s so much more I wanted to say to you, and a letter just won’t do it justice. I have a feeling you’ll be out on parole sooner than you think. Come find me when you can. I’ll be in D.C..

Counting the days,

Spencer

____________________________________________

Parole? I had at least another year before that could even be a consideration. But I started counting too, which didn’t last long. Imagine my surprise when I got out on parole only two weeks after receiving the letter.

Did he- no he couldn’t, could he? Spencer had been gone for months. Clearly he had cleared his name, thank goodness. I knew I needed to see him as soon as possible.

I couldn’t leave the state, but luckily I didn’t need to. With what little I had, I made my way to D.C.. I figured I’d start out at the return address on the envelope, the one I clung to like my life depended on it.

With a bag slung over my shoulder, I raised my hand with the letter to hesitantly knock on the door, completely unsure of what to expect on the other side.

My mouth fell open at the sight before me. Spencer Reid in a cardigan, a tie? I had never seen him outside the prison. He looked so put together. And all I could think about was how much I wanted to tear him apart. I did my best to suppress my lust in hopes of a civil and normal greeting.

I don’t know what I expected. Tears, hugs maybe? We stood there staring at each other for who knows how long before I finally spoke. I’d had a well rehearsed speech in my head. One I’d had two whole weeks to work on since he sent the letter. But that all went out the window the second I saw his face again.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Who was I kidding? We could see it in eachother’s eyes, the same desire from before, but stronger somehow. Maybe because it was quite literally within reach. Months of daydreaming about what it would feel like to touch him, kiss him, get absolutely railed by him.

The man I had met initially was so gentle, timid. I watched him change in that prison. I had initially imagined ruining him, breaking him for my own pleasure. By the time he left I wanted something completely different. I wanted him to do the breaking. I wanted him to use me for his own personal pleasure. And he knew it.

He grabbed my face to pull me in for an all consuming kiss that quite literally took my breath away. I had to pull back, gasping for air before I could get any words out.

“Missed you too.” I smiled.

“Can we take this to my bedroom?” The words came out rushed, as though he might die if he couldn’t have me in that very moment.

I give an enthusiastic nod. A small squeal and uncharacteristic giggle leaves my lips as he scoops me up in his arms, whisking me away to his bedroom.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this,” he pants, frantically removing his clothes. “Can you get undressed and lay down on your stomach for me?”

I follow his orders without question. He leans down by my ear and asks one question. “Safe word?”

“Cherry blossom.”

“Anything off limits?”

I don’t even have to think. “No, I trust you.”

Next thing I know I feel soft silk over my eyes as he ties a blindfold in place. This allows me to focus on the sounds of whatever else he is preparing. I hear a distinctly familiar jingle of metal, which is confirmed as it touches the skin of my wrists. Handcuffs. I wiggle my hips in delight, which earns me a playful spank.

“Like what you see?”

“I definitely can’t complain.” I can almost hear his smirk.

His fingers dig into my hips before pulling them up in the air. I feel cold air hit my core immediately.

“Fucking beautiful.”

Without any warning I feel a finger coated in cool lubricant coating my other opening.

“Try and relax for me, beautiful.” His fingers run through some of my hair, dragging across the skin of my back and I feel my muscles immediately follow his command. I attempt to mentally and physically prepare for whatever could be coming next.

I feel him work in what feels to be a decent sized anal plug. I’ve tried them before but only by myself. I’m already enjoying the added stimulation. My hips jolt when he suddenly brings his head down to lick up through my slit and I can’t help but yell.

“Fuck!”

“Mmm you like that, dirty girl? You’re quite literally dripping for me.”

He says it so calmly, I can hardly wrap my head around how smooth he’s being.

“Yes sir, please!” I beg.

“Please what, hmmm? What do you need?”

“Need you to eat my pussy please sir!”

Damn I sound absolutely pathetic. To think I ever considered myself a feminist. So much for my leg up on domineering men. Here I am willingly let one take me, have me anyway he wants. And that’s just the way I want it too. For Spencer Reid, I would be anything he needed.

“Good girl.” The two words have me writhing in pleasure with the combined sensation of his tongue back on the place I need it most. He sucks and laps at me like I'm his favorite dessert . He reads my body like a book, every movement and moan. He knows just what I need, when to let up, when to push harder. It’s unfair just how talented his mouth is.

And then, I’m coming undone on that beautiful mouth of his. Too bad I can’t see it. But oh it’s all I can imagine as waves of pleasure wreck my body and he’s running his fingers down my back, squeezing my ass as he gets in his final victory licks.

There’s a distinct sound of a condom wrapper, and I appreciate the consideration. I feel him sit on the bed next to me, against the headboard perhaps?

“Come sit on my lap.” His voice is dark and commanding, and my body is already responding with a fresh dose of arousal.

“But I can’t see sir.”

“No excuses. Come sit on my lap or you won’t get to come again.”

Not only can I not see, but my hands are still handcuffed behind my back. Not to mention my knees are weak from my most recent orgasm. This oughta be interesting. I try to scoot on my knees towards where I had heard his voice, only to lose my balance once I bump into his legs. I fall face first into his lap. Not the worst position to be in. I hear a soft, dark chuckle above me.

“Poor pathetic thing, are you already too weak? Can you handle another one?”

I swear, I never knew I was into degradation and humiliation. I don’t even know if I truly am, it's just something about him, about Spencer, that turns me on with everything he does.

“Yes sir, please! Please I can handle it! Let me try!”

I feel his fingers grasp my jaw, pulling my face up till I’m sitting on my knees again. I can feel his breath on my face and I wish I could just lean in and feel his lips on mine. My wish is granted for just a second. I feel his plush lips brush against mine, but they’re gone just as quick.

“Pretty thing. Let me help you, hmm.”

His long fingers wrap around my hips and guide me till I’m sitting in his lap, one leg on either side.

“Do you think you can ride me without your hands for balance?

“Yes sir!” I nod with an embarrassing eagerness.

“Show me, baby.”

I raise up and with his guidance again, lower myself until he’s making sure my other hole is filled as well.

Each bounce against his lap is adding pressure against the plug, combined with the bump of his cock against my cervix. With no sight, I’m so in tune with every sensation, especially the way his fingers feel roaming every inch of my body. He’s pinch my nipples, grabbing my ass, tugging at my hair. I may have been the one begging but he was clearly just as desperate.

When he decided he needs more, Spencer grabs my hips and starts thrusting up into me at a completely

ridiculous pace.

“You look so pretty bouncing on my cock. See for yourself, little girl.”

Before I have time to realize what he means, his beautiful fingers are ripping the silk away from my eyes, only to be met with absolutely heavenly eyes. They’re golden, warm, filled with lust but also something kinder. They devour my body like I’m his goddess. I absolutely love watching him enjoy the view. He licks his lips hungrily as he watches my breasts bounce and the way he looks sliding in and out of me.

Spencer pulls me in so he can leave a trail of kisses along my shoulders and neck. I love the way my face feels buried in his soft curls, he smells of lavender shampoo and it’s intoxicating. When he pulls back he’s got a knowing smirk on his face.

“What?”

In seemingly one move, I’m off his lap, on my back, with my hands pinned over my head.

“But the hand cuffs? How did you-“

Instead of answering he silenced me with an all consuming kiss. We’re biting, sucking, moaning, on one another like animals in heat. I can’t help but feel sorry for his poor neighbors.

He keeps my hands pinned above my head while realigning himself ready to pick back up where he left off. Before I can even register what’s happening he’s pounding into me like it’s his fucking job.

“You feel that? You feel how perfectly I fill you up? So pretty with my cock in you. Fuck- you take it so well!”

Words are gone from my mind. I’m left with moans, tears, and one name. Spencer.

“Spencer!”

He lets go of my arms and they instinctively wrap around his neck as I use my legs around his hips bringing him close.

“I’ve got you pretty girl. I’m here. Be a good little thing and come for me. Come on.”

I’m wrecked, shaking and moaning, unsure if I’ll ever be able to stop. He’s right there with me, filling me up in the best way. The pleasure is intensified by the extra pressure from the plug. I cling to him for dear life as I ride off my high, enjoying the way he looks above me. He’s angelic with the light sheen of sweat causing his skin to glisten in the low lighting, the natural sparkle of his eyes, the way his curls fall in his face, the pretty pink lips softly parted as he pants.

He’s dominant but also so soft and kind with me. It's clear tonight he cared about my pleasure just as much as his own. Maybe I don’t ever have to let him go. Maybe we can just stay here, twisted up in one another, blissfully unaware of all our troubles and the world around us.

I’m embarrassed at how much I whine as he gets off of me and slips away into the bathroom. I don’t know why I was surprised when he returns with a warm washcloth and lotion. He’s cleaning me up, tending to my wrists and any other spots sore from friction, and removing the plug. All the while he’s littering my skin with gentle kisses, all along my back and shoulders, my hips, my chest, my face. I’ve never been so pampered.

“Are you okay?” His voice is sweet and smooth like honey, leaving me tingling in the wake of its sweetness.

“Never better.” I leave kisses across his knuckles and he gives me that look again, like I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

After some convincing, I get up to use the bathroom, returning to a very sweet looking boy waiting for me under the covers, looking up with puppy dog eyes. I see the man I first met in the courtyard months ago. The one that stole my heart. I slip into the spot next to him, and we tangle back together, skin against skin. It’s so warm, soft, inviting and I think I’ll stay forever.

[the-modernmary]

to be enough || aaron hotchner x gn!reader

Summary: During a movie night with your boyfriend Aaron, you accidentally stumbled onto his old wedding video, and it makes you wonder if you could ever compete with his first love?

A/N: This was an anonymous request, thank you SO MUCH for sending this in!! It’s my first request and it was so much fun to write!! I love soft Hotch so, so much. I’m sorry this took so long to get out. I was sick on and off for like two weeks straight, it was a whole thing. I hope you like this!!

masterlist || read on ao3

“I’ll make popcorn and open the wine, you pick the movie. We’ll meet back on the couch in ten minutes,” Aaron said quickly as he pressed a kiss to your cheek before making his way to his kitchen.

  You giggled at your boyfriend’s eagerness as soon as he opened the door to his apartment. Truth be told, you couldn’t blame him, though. It was rare that the two of you ever really got the chance to just hang out at his apartment. Whenever Aaron was home, he liked to spend as much free time with his son as possible, which you completely understood. So between spending time with Jack and Aaron being away on cases, you lived for these small moments of alone time and domesticity. 

  “You might regret letting me pick the movie, my love,” you called to him jokingly as you sat down in front of his TV, looking for where the remote was hiding. “I am very loyal to my early 2000’s chick flicks.”

  The sound of Aaron’s laughter floating through his apartment made your heart swell. He had never been the tough, FBI unit chief around you, but he was also rarely so carefree and light. There was always a shield around him, especially with the way he would carefully choose his words so as to not give away too much of himself. He was always so guarded and unwavering.

  Aaron poked his head out of the kitchen, hair falling in his eyes. “In the interest of honesty, I’m fully planning on moving this to the bedroom before we even get halfway through the movie,” he admitted, his voice carrying even over the sound of popcorn in the microwave.

You giggled again and shook your head fondly, unable to stop the smile spread across your face at his words. Seeing him be so playful was like a gift — always a surprise, but never unwelcome. You lived for those small glimpses of the man you knew he was.

  Aaron went back to choosing the perfect movie night wine and you settled on the couch, turning on the TV and ready to pick out the goofiest, most feel-good movie you could find. Before you could pull Netflix up, however, the DVD that was already in the television began playing.

  The film was grainy and the camera work was shaky at best, so you weren’t sure exactly what you were watching at first. There was a church in the background and men dressed in nice suits. Kids dressed in their Sunday best ran around in the grass. The camera panned over to a couple who were clearly getting married, going by the big white dress the woman was wearing.

  The camera zoomed in on the couple and your heart dropped to your stomach, because there, right in the center of the screen was Aaron. It was a much younger version of him, of course, probably law school, but it was definitely him. 

  Oh god, this was his wedding video. Which meant that the beautiful, blushing bride wrapped in his arms and making him throw his head back in laughter was Haley.

  Aaron had told you about Haley and everything that had happened between the two of them right up to her murder pretty early on in your relationship with him, but then it was never really mentioned again. But you had heard the whispers on nights out with his team, listened to them all gossip amongst themselves about how “I never thought Hotch was ever going to move on?” .

  Despite every logical bone in your body screaming at you to change the film before Aaron came back into the living room, you couldn’t help but watch in morbid fascination. The Aaron on the screen was so different from the man you had come to love.

  You watched as the film Aaron spun Haley in circles and peppered her entire face in kisses. The entire time, they never once stopped touching each other, even if it was something as simple as holding each other’s hands. Aaron kept glancing over at Haley with the biggest heart eyes you had ever seen, and it was nothing like the way Aaron had ever looked at you. Even when the couple was supposed to be paying attention to the people giving speeches around them, Haley and Aaron kept sneaking glances at each other, mouthing “I love you” like it was the only thing they could think to say.

  Aaron looked so happy and so free and it was so unlike the man in the other room. In the year and a half you had been dating him, you had never seen Aaron with a smile so big. He never gave you PDA so freely, and it wasn’t something you realized you even wanted until you saw him do it with somebody else. Suddenly, you wanted to feel young and reckless and dizzy in love the way he looked back in the film.

  It was unfair to ask him to live every day with you feeling like it was his wedding day, and you knew it. Still, something stirred inside of you that made you crave for Aaron to look at you like that, even just once.

  What you had with Aaron now was safe and a certifiable “adult” relationship. Not to say it wasn’t nice, and there was plenty of passion and fun in it. All of your friends constantly expressed how envious they were that you had found somebody who was so stable yet still unpredictable and could sweep you off your feet with romantic dates under the stars. Being with Aaron felt like home for you, and you had always thought that he felt the same, although now you weren’t sure. It had never occurred to you that Aaron may not have ever really gotten over his first love.

  The microwave beeped, signaling that the popcorn was done and that Aaron would be back in the living room at any second, and you quickly switched the TV to Netflix, clicking whatever movie popped up first, not even bothering to look at the title. 

  Just in time, too, because not long after, Aaron made his way over to the couch, precariously carrying a bowl of popcorn, two wine glasses, and a bottle of a sweet red wine that had become a go-to for you both. He generally preferred red wine, but you hated the dryness of it and basically only drank sweet, dessert wines, so when the two of you found this one, it had seemed like fate. Most of your relationship with him felt like fate, honestly.

  You forced yourself not to think about the fact that Aaron was happily drinking white wine in the wedding video.

  “Either the definition of ‘chick flick’ has changed drastically,” Aaron started, plopping down next to you. “Or Mad Max is very different from what I remember.”

  “I decided to change it up, put on a movie neither of us will be invested in,” you lied, desperately fighting to keep your voice even. “That way we can move right into the bedroom portion of the night.”

  “I like the way you think, sweetheart,” he chuckled, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. His thigh was pressed against yours, but even then, he felt a million miles away from you.

  It was unfair to get so worked up over this whole wedding video thing, and you knew that. His time with Haley had ended long before he had even met you, and logically, you knew that people could fall in love multiple times. Still, that didn’t quell the anxiety that was bubbling in your stomach, making you queasy.

  Why was he even watching that video, anyway? Did he often sit right there on the very couch you were cuddling with him on and rewatch the happiest day of his life? After a date with you, did he ever come home conflicted about his own emotions and feeling guilty for moving on, and go down memory lane to remind himself who his real true love was? 

  You kept thinking about how giddy he had looked in that video, and how easy it had seemed for him to be with her. And Haley… God, how could you compete?

  She was stunning, no doubt about it, with her blonde hair and bright eyes that shined, even through shitty 90’s video camera quality. The pink on her soft-looking lips only seemed to make Aaron want to kiss them more and more, maybe to see if he could smudge her lipstick. It never once budged, though, because of course it didn’t. She seemed too perfect to have faded lipstick on her wedding day. She had floated across the makeshift dance floor, like a fucking Disney princess leaving a trail of fairy dust and sunshine everywhere she went. Everything about her seemed soft and kind and good, all things you had never once associated with yourself.

  It was no surprise that Aaron had decided he was going to marry her from the first time he saw her, as he had said in his vows. She was everything you could have ever wanted to be, and clearly, she was everything Aaron had ever wanted.

  Aaron’s voice snapped you out of your rapid descent into crippling insecurity. “I can hear you thinking from here, honey.”

  You took a long sip of your wine, avoiding his piercing gaze. “I’m just concentrating on the movie,” you lied.

  “The movie you picked specifically so that we didn’t have to pay attention?” he retorted, eyebrows raised. Really, you should have known better than to try and give him such a blatant lie. Aaron reached over you to grab the remote and paused the movie, placing his hand lightly on your knee. “What’s going on?”

  How could you even explain what you were feeling? It definitely wasn’t jealousy, although you almost wished it was. At least with jealousy, you could push it to the side as an awful, gross feeling that comes from years of internalized misogyny and being told that other women are inherently competition for the attention of men. You could deal with that feeling.

  But it wasn’t that at all. Despite Aaron’s obvious devotion to her, you found it hard (and a little twisted, if you were being completely honest) to be jealous of a woman who was violently murdered in her own home in front of her young child. Besides, jealousy would imply that you and Haley were on somewhat equal ground, which you so clearly weren’t. 

  Haley was his high school sweetheart, the love of his life, the woman he had chosen to have children with, and you…

  Well, at one point you thought you could have been that, too, but now you were faced with the fear that you were nothing more than a person to fill the hole in his heart that Haley had left. Even worse, however, was the sinking feeling that you weren’t sure if you were ever going to be enough to fill it completely. 

  “It’s stupid,” you stuttered out, avoiding Aaron’s eyes, which were so full of concern. That was the worst part. It would be one thing if Aaron didn’t love you, but he did love you. Just not in the way he loved her. “Don’t worry about me.”

  “It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you.”

  “I—” You cut yourself off with a sigh and shifted on the couch so that you were facing him. “Am I enough for you?”

  Aaron looked about as taken aback by your question as you felt. You hadn’t meant to burst through the gate with that particular insecurity.

  “Are you enough for me?” he repeated slowly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, like the question didn’t make any sense. In all honesty, it probably didn’t. “If you mean ‘am I happy with you’, then yes. Incredibly. Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

  That should have made you feel better, but it wasn’t the answer you were looking for. You absentmindedly picked at a loose thread on your sweater. “I saw your wedding video,” you admitted shamefully. It felt like you were a little kid getting caught with your hand in the cookie jar. “And, I don’t know… You looked so happy and so… alive with her. That’s a once-in-a-lifetime love, Aaron. I’m never going to be able to be that for you.”

  Aaron’s frown deepened, and for a moment you were worried that he was going to get angry at you for watching the video. Maybe you had tainted that one happy memory for him. But the lines on his face softened just a bit and he covered your hand with both of his.

  “Have you always felt like this?” he asked cautiously, attempting to keep all emotion off his face. “Like you’re not… enough?”

  You shrugged. “Sometimes. If I think about it too much. Especially when we first started dating. But never this intense. I guess since I had only heard stories of her, it was almost like she didn’t exist? But now that I’ve seen her and how you looked at her… I love you so much and I want you to be happy, but I’m scared I can’t be that for you. I’m sorry if I’ve crossed a line, but this has been eating me up from the inside for a while now and I—”

  “Hey, hey, hey,” Aaron cut you off mid-ramble, and you took a shuddering breath. Guilt was written all over him, which made you want to crawl into a hole and never be heard from again. “Have I done anything to make you think I’m unhappy?”

  “No, of course not! You’ve been nothing but wonderful. But I’m not Haley. I can’t make you as happy as she made you. And maybe this is selfish of me, but it hurts to know that you don’t love me the way you loved her.”

  Aaron’s frown deepened, but he still held on tightly to your hand. “I didn’t think you would want me to,” he said, and now it was your turn to be confused.

  You could practically see the gears turning in Aaron’s mind as he tried to find the right words to verbalize the floodgate of emotions that had just opened. Being vulnerable and open about his feelings wasn’t something he was very comfortable with, and it definitely didn't come easy for him. The fact that he was trying and willing gave you some comfort.

  “What I mean to say is…” he backtracked. “You’re right. You’re not Haley and the way I loved her is different from the way I love you. I love you differently because you’re different. And I’m different now, too. But different doesn’t mean less, and it never has. I would never want you to think that you’re just some consolation prize.”

  He was looking at you with such intensity and sincerity that you could have cried. “It’s just that when I realized you had been rewatching your wedding, I kept thinking that maybe she was your one love,” you explained nervously. “I don’t know what that leaves me.”

  Aaron took your hand that he was holding and moved it so that it rested on his chest and you could feel his heartbeat. “My love isn’t finite. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

  You melted into his touch, and it was like the sun came peeking through the storm clouds. He didn’t have the exact same expression that 25-year-old him did on the wedding video, but it was something close. Maybe even something more. It was warm and inviting and felt like coming home after a long day. 

  “You’ve been nothing but the picture-perfect boyfriend,” you assured. “This is all me and my own insecurities. I saw that you had been watching the video and I just… spiraled, I guess.”

  Aaron mindlessly rubbed his thumb back and forth on your hand. “I should probably explain why I was watching it, then.”

  “God, no, you don’t owe me any explanations for what you—”

  “I was showing Jack,” Aaron interrupted, his voice soft. “He doesn’t remember her that much, and he definitely doesn’t remember when we were married. Most of his memories are of fighting or divorced parents. I wanted to show him that his parents loved each other.”

  Your face went hot as embarrassment spread through you. “Wow, that makes perfect sense and I feel like an idiot,” you breathed. “I’m sorry.”

  Aaron pressed a chaste kiss to your lips as he stood up from the couch. “You’re not an idiot, and you have nothing to be sorry for,” he promised. “Come on, let’s get changed into something a little nicer.”

  You looked down in confusion as your movie night outfit. “Why?”

  A mischievous glint flashed in Aaron’s eyes as he bent down and gave you another kiss, one much less chaste than the one before. “Because,” he mumbled against your lips. “I’m going to take you on a date and show you just how much I love you.”

[lumelii]

THANK YOU ~|~ NANAMI X FEM!READER

Summary: Tensions are high in the Nanami household. Outside influence (and bribery) are needed.

Content warnings: slight angst, child-parent relations, singledad!Nanami

Note: This is my first fic on this blog, so let me know what you think! Big thanks to Moni for beta-reading this for me <3

word count: 2.0k

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“I hate you!”

Nanami couldn’t stop his flinch as Yuuji slammed the door to his room behind him. He didn’t have the energy now to scold him for slamming his door. Instead, he heaved a deep sigh and walked back down their small hallway to the living room to collapse on the couch. The bottle of whisky safely locked away in the cabinet above the fridge called to him but he resisted the urge. When Yuuji finally came out, he wanted to be completely sober so they could sit down and talk this out.

He could have left the apartment right now, found Gojou, and throttled him after choking him on those concert tickets. Whatever had possessed him to think two twelve-year-old boys could go out by themselves in the middle of the night to the show of a band whose music was far too mature for them anyway, Nanami didn’t know, and he guessed Toji didn’t know about it either. Otherwise the idea wouldn’t have left the Fushiguro house.

As soon as Yuuji had seen those tickets, it was the only thing he could talk about, filling their daily walk home from his school with his excited chatter. Nanami listened as intently as he could while trying to push all thoughts of work out of his head, putting all focus on his son. But when he heard just what band the boys were planning on seeing, the conversation had deteriorated to the point where Yuuji had begun yelling at his father, uttering those final three words before entombing himself in his room.

Nanami had resisted the pull to argue right back with Yuuji, but a thirty-something year old man arguing with his twelve-year-old son was downright ridiculous, and he had to take the high road in situations like this. Even despite his outburst, Nanami would not budge. Yuuji wouldn’t be allowed to go to the concert, and he would go so far as to call Toji and suggest he do the same with Megumi. He wasn’t afraid to be the bad guy if it meant his family was safe.

A sudden knock startled him from his reflection to look at the front door. He wasn’t expecting anyone to stop by, and he hadn’t buzzed anyone into the apartment. His heart quickened unwillingly at the rising probability of who it could be.

His suspicions were confirmed when he finally opened the door and saw you, his very sweet, very attractive next-door neighbor standing there, a smile crossing your face when he finally appeared. He tried not to focus on how your shirt clung perfectly to your curves, or your jeans, though stained with something he guessed was peanut butter, emphasized your small waist and shapely legs. Your dog helped him focus, distracting him from your form as he curiously watched it lick a spot of peanut butter from your jeans.

“Sorry, he snuck out the door with me as I was leaving.” Your smile grew sheepish as you held up a plate filled with treats. “Sounded like you both were having a rough day. But I guess now’s not the best time?”

“No, please, come in.” Nanami stepped aside and allowed you and your companion to enter. “We’ve just had a long day.”

The large dog plodded down the apartment’s small hallway and stopped at Yuuji’s door, pawing at it once with a whine. The door opened just enough for the animal to slip through before it slammed shut again.

“Is everything alright?” The look of genuine concern on your face made his heart tighten just for a moment while you sat on the couch together. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, he’s upset I won’t let him go to the Raising Dead concert with Megumi by themselves.” Nanami sighed. “Unless I change all my beliefs in the next week, he still won’t be going.”

“Raising Dead?” Your eyes went unimaginably wide. “My mom wouldn’t let me even see them when I was 18. They’re a little…mature aren’t they? For someone Yuuji’s age? How did he even hear about them?”

“Exactly why I won’t allow him to go.” Nanami pointed out. “His best friend Megumi got the tickets from his,” he paused for a moment to consider how he could explain the relationship, “uncle. I guess they listen to the band together.”

“Well, I think you’re making the right decision, not that my opinion matters.” Your smile was soft as you rested a hand on his arm, making his skin burn in your wake. “I heard they rip heads off of chickens at their concerts.”

Your opinion is the only one that matters. He bit back the words and cleared his throat, shifting so your hand fell off his arm, but your touch still lingered. “It doesn’t change the fact that Yuuji is upset with me. He wanted the opportunity to go with his friend, and I stopped him from doing that.”

You considered this, looking toward the door to Yuuji’s room. “Do you want me to try to talk to him?”

“He’s pretty upset. Do you think he’d want to talk to you?”

“I could try. I had an overprotective parent too.” You grinned as he scoffed at your remark.

“I’m not overprotective.” Nanami frowned at her.

“You were one scraped knee away from sending him to kindergarten wrapped in bubble wrap for the rest of the year.”

“He kept getting hurt.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but there was no malice as you paired it with a soft smile. Standing, you grabbed the plate of cookies off the table and started walking towards Yuuji’s door. He followed you, leaning against the wall where Yuuji wouldn’t be able to see him if he didn’t open his door fully. He watched as you took a deep breath before knocking softly. “Yuuji? I made cookies. Do you want some?”

There was silence for several moments before Yuuji’s voice finally came from the other side.

“What kind?” He sounded muffled.

“Peanut butter chocolate chip.”

Another silent moment passed, then his door opened just enough to let his arm through, feeling around blindly for the treats. You held the plate just out of his reach when he was about to touch the edge.

“If you want them, you have to let me in.”

Yuuji considered this, his arm going limp before retreating completely just as his door opened a fraction more. “Just you.” He emphasized.

You turned to him with a small smile and squeezed your way into his room, the door finally closing softly for once this afternoon.

Nanami started to take a step forward to listen, but hesitated at the last minute. Although he had just denied it with his neighbor, he was overprotective, and that side of him screamed to listen in so he could know how Yuuji was, but it was clear he needed his space. If Yuuji found out he had been eavesdropping, that would only make it worse.

He forced himself to walk away, changing out of his work clothes into a t-shirt and going into the kitchen to start making dinner while they talked. He turned on an instrumental playlist, not wanting to deal with lyrics while he was so deep in thought, his mind occupied with his son and the problem he was currently facing at work.

About an hour later (and several shameless tiptoes down the squeaky hall to see if you two were still talking), Nanami looked up to see you and Yuuji turning the corner into the living room/kitchen area. Yuuji kept his eyes on the carpet, kicking it with his socked toe while you looked between the two males expectantly. When Yuuji didn’t say anything, you elbowed him as a prompt. He looked up at Nanami for a second then back down at his feet.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled.

“For?” You said before Nanami could respond.

“For yelling at you. I was upset. I want to go to the concert with Megumi. But if it’s not safe, I’ll listen.” He spoke as if he were reciting a speech, but finally looked up at Nanami with an intense stare. “I still want to go though.”

“And?”

Yuuji lost some of his steel and looked back down. “And I don’t hate you.”

Nanami looked at you for a second, wondering what magic you had worked to get his stubborn almost-teenager to actually speak like an adult instead of yelling at him again. When you pointed and mouthed ‘All him’ behind Yuuji’s back, he took a deep breath and looked back at his son.

“I know you still want to go. But it’s not safe. Especially with you two going by yourself. If you find something else you want to go to, that’s not that band, then I’ll take you and Megumi.”

Yuuji looked like was about to start arguing again, but you cleared your throat and gave him a meaningful look when he glanced over at you. He relented with a sigh and a nod.

Now that was over with, Nanami walked around the counter and hugged Yuuji, placing a kiss on the top of his head. Yuuji hugged him back willingly before they both turned their attention back to you. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” The blond man asked.

You shook your head. “I should really go back home, I have to finish up a lot of chores I’ve been putting off.”

“Please stay.” Yuuji grabbed your arm. “I’ll help you tomorrow.”

“You have your own chores to do, Yuuji. And homework.” Nanami reminded him.

His son ignored him and held your arm tighter. “Please?”

Yuuji’s pleading won out, and after staying and having a jovial dinner of katsudon with the two men, you all sat on the couch to watch a movie of Yuuji’s choosing, one he promptly fell asleep to, his head on Nanami’s chest as he drooled on his shirt. The father looked at you, watching the screen intently as you tried to decipher who just was the killer in the murder mystery, sipping a cup of tea carefully.

You’d never know just how much he loved you. So he settled with the obvious for now.

“Thank you.” Nanami whispered over Yuuji’s head.

You turned to look at him, your brows still drawn together in confusion as if you didn’t know what he was thanking you for. When he nodded down to Yuuji’s sleeping form, you raised your eyebrows in acknowledgment and looked back to the TV screen.

“I didn’t do anything that wouldn’t have happened eventually.” You told him as you took a sip of tea. “He adores you, he wouldn’t have stayed mad for long.”

“Did he say anything?”

“I don’t want to betray his trust.” You admitted.

“Fair enough.” Nanami relented. “Would you tell me, though, if he needed anything?”

You smiled and nodded. “Always. Yuuji comes first.”

He thought he noticed a hint of sadness in your eyes at your words, but you were already up and gathering your empty dish before it registered. “Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.” You leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of Yuuji’s head, and with just the slightest hesitation, one on Nanami’s cheek. He felt his face catch fire as soon as your lips touched his skin, tingles emanating from where your lips made contact. He barely registered your own cheeks burning red as well as you started walking towards the door. “Come on, Koro.”

The woman and dog finally disappeared, leaving Nanami and Yuuji alone in their apartment. Once he carried Yuuji to bed and read a few chapters of his current book, he turned off the light and laid back staring up in the dark. No matter how hard he tried, his mind wouldn’t succumb to sleep. He kept thinking of you, not just your shared moment tonight, but every moment of the entire seven years you had known each other, memories he analyzed and went through with a fine-toothed comb each night before he fell asleep. Had he built up the glances the way you touched his hand, how you chose to spend your time with them rather than by yourself or with others? How you cared for Yuuji like her own, willing to help whenever you could? Were the feelings lying just beneath his carefully constructed surface genuine, ready to burst forth at any moment?

Were you in your bed, doing the same, thinking of him?

tags: @oikawaandkuroostan

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Five

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

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

Part 5 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

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

Warnings in this Chapter: mentions of male masturbation and boners (lol); strong language; references to suicide, murder, and drug smuggling; abusive parental relationship; mentions of child death in a second flashback; dry humping (smut); 18+ only please!

Word Count: 16,500+

A/N: damn that chapter warning list was a trip to write down lmao

~

Westview, 2023, 1:32 pm

     An uncomfortable silence spread throughout the parked vehicle, daring either of you to take the first step. No one commented on the glares boring into your soul as you drove through the town or how heavily the three of you got patted down by the authorities right outside the state line. You figured it was completely justified - still a little insulting to a bunch of Avengers who literally saved the world three weeks ago. 

With a loud gulp, Bucky was the first to kick open his door and get out of the car. You glanced at Steve from the driver’s seat, biting your lip with a slight quiver as you went over the speech you practiced earlier today. Simple enough, and not too damning. 

Steve’s leg bounced rapidly a few more times before he too kicked open his door, leaving you in silence. You pulled the car keys from the ignition and took in a deep breath. Your legs were numb, the anxiety washing over you in uneven cycles. It was now or never. 

“Wanda, it’s us…”

Her grief seemed to emit from every crack in the sidewalk, every weak beg escaping the townspeople’s throats, every sound from the inanimate objects her powers had continued to turn from gray to red… to green… back to gray. She was crouched on the property, weeds brushing against her black pants and leaving their mark, mascara smudged with each new wet streak. 

Bucky unzipped his jacket, eyes wandering over the deserted plot of land as Wanda tried to control her sobs. She had already caused enough damage, both physical and psychological, the possibility of more government involvement looming over your heads. He carefully walked toward her and wrapped his jacket over her shoulders, all be damned as he held her and began to tear up himself.

“Wanda, you’re okay. You’re safe. We’ll get through this,” Steve sighed, still keeping a respectable distance from her in case she were to run. But you knew her better - she was all out of fight. One fight after another and yet she still lost her love. 

“I did something really bad,” she sobbed, eyes locked on the spot where Vision had just disappeared. Again.

“No, you didn’t know what you were doing,” Steve declared, shocked by the unexpected scoff from Bucky. 

“Save it, Steve. She may not have known in the beginning but she does now. She still did it.”

No one dared correct Bucky or argue with that logic because if anyone knew about causing harm with absolutely no intention, it was obviously him. Taking responsibility - that was the best course of action. 

Once you heard of a radioactive disturbance in a small town just outside the state, the team almost retired completely. So soon after defeating Thanos, so soon after Tony’s death, so soon after Natasha’s death - the team left it up to the proper authorities this time around. 

But the second you watched the broadcast of Wanda’s fantasies, the sitcom her powers were conjuring, her giving birth to her children… all you could do was wait until she opened the barrier. 

“I still did it,” Wanda said, her upper body beginning to rock back and forth as her fingertips brightened with red tendrils of magical grief. 

You shut your eyes and willed yourself not to cry. You had done so much crying these past few years and you were oh, so tired. You couldn’t possibly take another beating. 

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” Bucky spoke, gently turning Wanda’s face and placing both his hands on her cheeks, mindful of the metal appendage he had forgotten to cover with his glove. “You already did it. It can’t be undone. But you can come with us and grieve properly.”

Wanda reached up and placed her hands over his, tears spilling from her eyes faster now. 

“Let us help you grieve.”

This wasn’t an unexpected goodbye. Wanda knew that. She had just voluntarily given up her husband and children - anyone would crumble from that sort of devastation. But now she had been given a proper goodbye, a somewhat proper closure, and the chance to accept it. “Okay.”

You and Steve remained frozen in place even after Bucky helped Wanda stand. Almost as quickly as you thought it, your feet had a mind of their own. You stood next to Steve, taking in the weed infested, rectangular plot of land - the remnants of Wanda’s fantasy still fresh and creating a tiny, refreshing tingle in the middle of your chest. You looked over at Steve and smiled sadly when you saw him inspecting the area as well. 

“They would have had a beautiful life together.”

Steve’s breath hitched as you finished your declaration, looking over at you and nodding slightly. 

“If I had the chance, I would have wanted a nice house with some decent air conditioning. Some weird, front yard garden where I could plant random flowers. A dog that dug them up and acted like it didn’t do it.”

You giggled, thumbnail between your incisors to try and disguise the wider grin forming. Steve kept speaking. 

“Maybe a kid or two. Never actually checked if I could even have kids after the serum.”

You dropped your hand from your face, your attention completely on him now. 

Steve sighed and kicked a rock over to the other side of the property. “I would have wanted a giant, king-sized bed. With ‘his’ and ‘hers’ towels. And every once in a while we would accidentally use the other one’s toothbrush, a secret we would take to the grave.”

Steve wasn’t even looking over at you as he said this. It was like a one-sided confession, rhetorical, not needing an immediate response or expression in return. And you couldn’t believe he was just saying this in front of you - you of all people - the same person who rolled their eyes whenever Steve struggled to comprehend a modern topic or argued with him when he was in one of his moods. He had been distant the last few weeks after returning the stones, only ever noticing you when other people were around to carry a conversation. 

The tingles in your chest were starting to disappear as the plot of land gave its last few magical rumbles. 

“Steve?”

Steve bowed his head, hands in his pockets and breath steady. “Yes, they would have been very happy together.”

You stared at the back of his head as he slowly walked back to the car.  

Present Day, 2025, 8:10 am

     The amount of times you reminded yourself to wake up early as you were drifting off to sleep last night was perhaps more than the number of sheep you had ever counted in your life. A quick reminder here and there as your mind got clogged with pointless information, the number eight behind your eyelids all throughout the night. 

And you did it. In the early hours of the morning, knowing Steve would wake naturally in about twenty minutes, you tip-toed out of bed to use the bathroom. Acting completely normal in case he did in fact hear you before your grand plan - an easy escape route if he decided to repeat his horrible morning ritual on you. But he was such an old man, getting older, losing that serum’s boost. This Steve, Steve who refused to call any movie made after 1945 ‘old’ because he literally didn’t get the chance to see them premiere - yeah, this Steve, was passed out like he had been hit by a truck. 

Bladder empty and teeth brushed, you quietly opened the bathroom door and peeked through. He still lay there on his back, wrapped tightly in his blanket, breathing steadily, and face completely unprotected. 

Could you die? Probably. Would this payback be absolutely satisfying? Hell yeah. 

You grabbed the biggest of your pillows and fisted the corner tightly, twisting it a couple times for a better grip. You signed the cross quickly before lifting the pillow above your head and bringing it down to Steve’s face. 

Steve’s eyes snapped open and he immediately sat up, “WHAT?”

His eyes flew around the room rapidly until they landed on you, angry and challenging.

“Payback!” you yelled, lifting the pillow high again for a second hit. But he reacted quicker, grabbing a pillow himself and swinging it toward you. It slammed you in the torso and practically sent you flying. You landed at the edge of your bed, mouth open in shock and racks of laughter bubbling deep within your chest. You stood quickly and hit him repeatedly, trying your best to also block his counterattack. 

He reached for your hip and pulled you in his bed, rolling the two of you over so he was straddling your hips. He brought the pillow down several more times before accepting your plea of surrender. 

You threw the pillow back to your bed and pouted, “Not a fair fight!”

Steve scoffed, “You caught me off guard! You had all the advantages!”

You shuffled beneath him and froze, hips stuck in a lifted position as you were too embarrassed to move them back down. “Jesus, Steve! How do you even sleep on your stomach with that thing?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows as he inspected your face and body, looking down at the two of you before he noticed the way he was pressing into your inner thigh. He scrambled off you, a blush spreading from his cheeks and all the way down his chest. He cupped himself and turned away, quickly shuffling for his suitcase and pulling whatever clothes his flustered hands grabbed. He was also repeatedly apologizing. 

“Steve, it’s okay. It just… startled me, is all.”

Steve cleared his throat a couple times before pacing around the room in search of his toiletries. 

You just sat back on your elbows, watching him scurry like a chicken with its head cut off. It was rather amusing. 

“I’m gonna - gonna, take a shower. Uh, I’m sorry again.”

You smirked at the super soldier, “Steve, I’m not mad. It isn’t like I’m new to that kind of thing.”

Steve blushed harder, “But I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

You shrugged your shoulders and dipped lower into his sheets, grabbing and lifting them higher. You snuggled deeper, “Still.”

Steve could feel the speed at which the world rotated and he shut the bathroom door behind him. He leaned against it, breathing deeply until he had all his inhibitions back. 

He didn’t know what was more embarrassing - reacting the way he did or you seeing him react the way he did. It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t seen each other in awkward situations, some borderline lewd. There were plenty of missions that involved heavy flirting with the targets, undercover work in depraved settings, missions where nasty magic was involved and concocted a multitude of inappropriate visions. Hell, everyone had already seen each other naked. It was completely normal, a trustworthy environment, and sometimes necessary. 

As much as he wanted to give into the feeling and award himself some proper alone time, he refused to act upon it. He would regret it later once the stress pushed down harder than usual, but it just wasn’t appropriate in his right mind to masturbate with you in the other room. 

Why did he have to be such a good and honorable man?

He busied himself with washing his hair and scrubbing away any evidence of sleep from his face. Steve liked sleeping on his stomach, face smooshed in the pillows and arms extended to his sides. It allowed for more comfortable movement, more ways to stretch his hips, just overall comfort for his massive shoulders. Less pressure on the lungs, too. And unlike the enthusiastic yet almost mean accusation that he couldn’t possibly enjoy that position because of his… well, his dick, Steve would choose that position over sleeping on his back any day. But that morning, his body had decided to betray him in more ways than one. One, he was open to attack because he was on his back. And two, whatever dream he was having caused his morning wood to seem larger this morning.

He had washed up quickly, more time spent out of the shower where he fixed his hair and combed his beard. He thought about shaving it for the rehearsal dinner or wedding, but it gave him a more rugged look - like he was all tough and no funny business. As ridiculous as it sounded, the beard allowed him to lean into the criminal act easier, build a fake personality that already had your father eating out of his hand. 

Opening the bathroom door and having to face the music, Steve was almost certain you would continue to tease him. But you were already munching on the breakfast you had ordered, shoveling hash browns in your mouth as you swiped the mouse through pages and pages of intel. You didn’t even look up as he crossed the room to grab a pair of pants he had forgotten to pick up during his quick escape. That settled his nerves almost instantly and he was dressed and settled next to you soon after.

You worked in silent cooperation for a long while, handing each other files and passing phone calls like you had during every other mission before. Except now it was more comfortable, pleasant, and kind - the soft sounds from the television in the corner, the humming of the desktop, the soft hums of recognition whenever you two showed each other something. You didn’t even bother with what happened in the morning, if it really was anything at all, because you honestly found it normal. You were more focused on the conversation you had last night. 

Steve had offered to kill your father if you seriously couldn’t. Just thinking about his offer caused your stomach to turn. Because yes, you wanted him dead. You wanted to snap his neck in ten different places and feed him to scavengers. You wanted to steal his business from under him and tear it apart, bit by bit, and keep him alive long enough to see you do it. You wanted to see the look in his eyes when you revealed that you double-crossed him. And as the day inched closer, the overwhelming feeling of shame pushed down on your shoulders and swallowed your mind. Once your father was dead, you and Steve would never find true peace. His men would always follow you, probably take you down at the local coffee shop you and Peter frequented. 

The thought of dying in front of Peter caused a lump to form in your throat. No, you wouldn’t do that to your friends. You couldn’t do this to Steve. 

But you had to. Because even though your life will never be yours after this mission, you had to save the countless others your father was sure to touch and ruin. 

But was your life ever truly yours?

Steve’s voice pulled you from your clouded mind. 

“Huh?” 

“I asked if you wanted the last piece of fruit.” 

You looked at Steve then at the small piece of watermelon in the bowl, then back at Steve. He had a pen in between his teeth, one eyebrow cocked, and slightly puffy eyes due to the beer heavy sleep he had last night. You looked away as quickly as you could and stared back at the fruit, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. 

Ridiculous, you thought. Just looking at Steve had flustered you, squeezing your stomach in pleasurable pulses you hadn’t felt since high school. “No, no. You can have it,” you said, hoping your voice wouldn’t crack. 

Ridiculous. 

Steve watched you with a funny smile but he took your word and scooped up the last piece for himself. 

No, you thought again, this man will not give me freaking butterflies. 

It wasn’t like it was odd. Steve had you flustered countless times before, but it was never quite as tingly as it was now. You suddenly wanted to facetime Wanda and rant about these weird feelings; you wanted to curl in on yourself and squeal; you wanted to -

    “He’s what?”

You sat on your knees and leaned over the back of the couch, chin resting on your folded arms as you watched Steve pace around the common room. He was tugging at his dress shirt repeatedly, desperately trying to attach cufflinks without additional help. Sam sat right beside you, in the same position, snickering each time Steve cursed under his breath. 

“He’s nervous,” Bucky smirked, arm holding out Steve’s tie for the past five minutes. Steve had paced beside him various times already, completely oblivious. 

Steve groaned and readjusted his collar, snapping his head toward the three of you. “I’m not nervous.”

“You’re sweating buckets, man,” Sam pointed out, one of his hands discreetly opening up his camera and switching to video. 

“What if she doesn’t like me?” 

Bucky threw his head back and cackled, choosing to grab Steve and steady him to finally put that damn tie around his neck. “Same old, Steve. Can’t accept that a dame would ever possibly like you back.”

“Hey, Steve don’t worry about it,” you started, shooting Steve a sympathetic look. Steve glanced back at you, expression swiftly changing due to your kind tone. “... when I was in high school,-”

Steve released a loud grunt, rolling his eyes and stepping away from Bucky’s hands. 

Sam rolled over and clutched his stomach as he laughed, pulling you into him. The two of you shook from your laughs together. 

“Guys,” Bucky warned, reaching for Steve in a ‘grabby’ motion. “Give him a break.”

Steve reluctantly stood beside Bucky again, head tilted upward as he tried wrapping the tie back around his neck. 

None of you heard the entrance of Thor and his brother, too busy with bullying, laughter, or moderating. 

“Did we miss all the fun?”

You shot up from the ground, kicking Sam away as you rushed across the floor and stumbled over the rug. “Thor!”

You rushed into his arms and he gripped you tightly, swinging you around and loud laughter matching yours. 

“Now, why wasn’t I greeted in a similar manner?” Loki questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You pulled your face from Thor’s shoulder, “Oh, you want this too?”

You jumped back onto the floor and were about to jump into Loki’s arms, but he held his own out, stopping you. “It’s too late. It’s not the same.”

“Piss baby,” you quipped, rushing behind Thor for protection when Loki’s mouth dropped in surprise. 

“Can everyone stop what they’re doing real quick and tell Steve his date is going to go well tonight?”

You rolled your eyes at Bucky’s favor, but he just raised his eyebrows, challenging you to disobey the order. 

“The Captain has a date? Are they okay?”

Loki and you shared a comical gasp. 

Steve gaped, “Now, what in the world does that mean, Thor?”

Thor raised his hands in defense, “I’m just asking if she truly knows what she’s getting herself into! Don’t try and tell me she has no idea who you are.”

Steve was back to groaning nonstop. Bucky threw his hands up in the air, “I ask one thing of you guys. One thing.”

You stomped over to Steve and ripped the half-tied tie from his neck and smoothed down his collar. You patted down his shoulders and the front of his shirt, and gripped his shoulders to straighten his back. 

“Now,” you smiled up at him. The breath caught in your throat for a second, the blue of his eyes shining under the ceiling lights and the pink of his cheeks spreading slowly. You let out a tiny sigh, heart fluttering faintly from the small grin he was giving you. He looked so innocent, a renaissance subject created from light oils, signs of true aging showing in his forehead. “Whatever date you got planned, she’s gonna love it.”

Steve relished in the feeling of your palms pressed against his chest for a few moments before he nodded at your declaration. He stepped back and smoothed down his shirt. “Wish me luck?”

A chorus of ‘good luck’s sounded as Steve found his keys and shared a goodnight hug with Sam and Bucky. They both jokingly reminded him to use protection. 

You watched Steve leave, a newfound bounce in his step as he walked away. Your words had been so simple, so cliche, and yet he had dropped any visible nerves as he walked out the door. You weren’t the best motivational speaker, that was for sure, but the proof of at least an ounce of motivation was there. Maybe your words held a hidden meaning. Maybe.

You thought about him picking up this random woman, wine and dining her, kissing her cheek as he said his goodbyes at the end of the night. It was somewhat adorable to think about, but also weird.

Before you could dive more into the strange feeling, Thor’s voice sounded. 

“Should we order pizza or chinese?”

It’s like that snapped you from your trance, because next thing you knew you were back to your playful self, sprinting across the room and into Loki’s arms. 

     You cherished the slight, pleasant churn of your stomach as you watched him happily munch on the fruit. 

Okay, it was normal to have a tiny crush on your mission partner. God knows how many times you wanted to jump Thor’s bones whenever you were undercover together. A crush was normal, completely natural and expected. 

Except you had never gotten so much sane joy from a simple question of whether you wanted the last piece of fruit. 

You blinked a few times and shook off any trace of overthinking devils, grabbing at random files to occupy your mind for a while. After about fifteen more minutes of comfortable silence, you spoke.

“So, we think Ramirez is gonna get straight up murdered?”

Steve snorted, filing through a pile of papers Torres had delivered this morning. “I wouldn’t put it like that, but sure.”

“But it’s just a theory at this point. We can’t just go in guns blazing without enough proof.”

“And if there is proof? Do we protect him? The original mission was to arrest all four men.”

You groaned, “I don’t know. He’s never done me wrong.”

“Personal feelings aside, Y/N.”

“Ugh, fine. But I’m not gonna be happy about it.”

Steve squinted at you with a playful smile. “You’d rather just arrest the bad ones, huh?”

“Obviously what Ramirez is doing is illegal and it’s horrific to think of what might be happening behind the scenes on his side, but either he’s serious or he’s been putting on this good guy act for his whole life.”

“Leaning towards the first option?”

Shrugging, you leaned toward your computer screen and scrolled through the massive list of emails. “It’s what my gut tells me, but ehh.”

There was one random email from Maribel, but random only meant coded. Reading it over a couple times, humming to yourself in concentration, you finally cracked the code she was trying to send. 

“Maribel says Ramirez acquired some land in Mexico… lots of it.”

Steve looked up from the files, “Any significance?”

“It’s probably for growing the products.”

Steve quickly typed key words that would alert him of any new transactions in the past few months.  “Who’s on the title?”

“Just him. And his oldest daughter. My father must know, right?”

Steve leaned back in his chair, releasing a heavy sigh as he thought about what this could mean. “Ramirez acquiring more land means more of Ramirez’s product. A three-way partnership would be split unevenly if he utilizes the land.”

“Make sure Bucky alerts us of any business my father might have with realtors authorized to work in that area.”

It functioned like this for another hour, the two of you sharing bits of information every ten minutes or so. 

“Torres sent us an update on White.”

You rubbed at your strained eyes, “What does he say?”

Steve’s eyebrows raised, “That he’s been in the country for much longer than his passport says.”

You stood from your seat and rushed to look at the same screen Steve was reading from. “He traveling under a fake name?”

“Customs says he returned to Germany,” Steve stated, highlighting a paragraph on the screen for you to easily read. “Four weeks ago.”

It was your turn to snort out a laugh, “Oh, he’s so setting up an alibi.”

Steve nodded in agreement, “Looks like it.”

You slapped his shoulder lightly, voice raising an octave. “Look at us! Piecing together the puzzle!”

“We still got a few more pieces to attach before you go getting all cocky.”

You chuckled and decided to take a break. You speed walked over to your bed and plopped down, the mountain of pillows already relieving your tense muscles. “Hey, has my sister’s plane landed yet?”

Steve glanced at you quickly before pulling up Bucky’s morning emails. “Uh, landed about an hour ago.”

“She at the estate?”

He shrugged, “Torres hasn’t sent an update. Just her profile, hold up.”

You waved him off, a nonverbal way of telling him you seriously couldn’t care less. “I haven’t spoken to her since I joined you guys. You don’t gotta give me her origin story.”

“That long?” Steve questioned. 

You placed a pillow beneath your head, body horizontal and facing Steve. “We were never that close. I’ve got tons of half-siblings. Most of them were adults when I was born, anyway.”

With just a few words exchanged, Steve realized he had just stepped through your metaphorical door of reminiscing. So he stood to lay in his own bed, the simple action of giving you attention enough to keep you talking, he hoped. “Were you alone a lot? Growing up, I mean.”

You watched as Steve also placed a pillow beneath his head, “There were always kids around. Kids of the maids, cousins, neighbors.”

“A full house, sounds like.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, a small smile forming as you thought about old friends. “I remember this one time, we all ran into Ramirez when we were trying to get to one of the playrooms. But he grabbed me quickly and told me to not go in there.”

“Was it a threat?”

You grinned at his protective tone, “No, it was a warning. There were some really bad men in the other room. It was me and a few other girls. He told us to run back to my room and lock the door until he came to get us.”

Steve couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation as to why Ramirez joined the drug game. Sure, the function and presence of cartels had changed drastically over the last forty years, but it didn’t explain why he remained involved. In the eighties, the drug game was highly televised and spoken about, but the cartel violence was not as strong. Nowadays, and not even you could give a proper explanation, the violence was astronomical and basically advertised as something to expect when visiting certain countries. This was the mob game now, freaking Al Capone or the goddamn Godfather, absolutely meant to frighten whoever dare join or leave. For Ramirez to still be one of the big players even with that many internal changes, to be a good person in the middle of such hell, didn’t make any sense. 

“He protected you.”

You clutched the pillow closer to your chest, the memory a good one even if it was weird. “Oh, yeah. Those guys he was warning us about were no angels.”

Steve gave an awkward smile, “I feel like I know more about your childhood than you know mine.”

“I’m all ears if you wanna tell me about little, asthmatic Steve Rogers.”

He raised his index finger at you, “Hey, I was more than just my asthma.”

“Oh, excuse me. I totally forgot about your scoliosis.” 

The pillow under his head was now flying across the small distance to your face. You shrieked and sent it back. 

“Stop bullying!” Steve laughed.

You shielded your face in case he decided to continue the pillow war. “What? I’ve got my health problems, too! I just don’t have the serum to help me out.”

But he didn’t throw it again. He repositioned himself on his back and placed both hands beneath his head, gracing the ceiling with a grin. “I remember this one time, Bucky and I were around eleven-years old, and I had this really bad asthma attack. Bucky just freaked out. I was choking and he was just holding me, screaming for help -”

You blinked, “This is really depressing, what are you-”

“-and! Bucky threw himself into a full-blown panic attack. So we were both choking on air, but I was starting to laugh at him freaking out, which only made him choke harder. We ended up throwing up.”

You were silent at the end of his short story, mouth open in a wide smile. “I don’t know what else to say other than that was one of the greatest stories I’ve ever heard.”

Steve rolled over, a literal twinkle in his eye. “See? Don’t interrupt me before I get to the good parts.”

This simple moment catapulted the realization that Steve hasn’t spoken to you this much in two years, to the front of your mind. In these past four days, you had spoken like you had never stopped, like it was never awkward, like you two seriously didn’t need another person in the room to simply converse about what you wanted for breakfast. Yet here you were, more words exchanged in the past four days than you ever thought possible. 

After the fallout, you didn’t say one full sentence to him for seven months. Seven months. He hadn’t attempted a conversation with you either, but you actively avoided him like he was infected. Hell, he even moved out of the compound and into his own apartment to get away from you for most of the day. After your forced reconciliation, the awkward apologies, you still didn’t force any open conversation. But it was easier, lighter, and most conversations involved mission information. 

Talking this much now was so easy, so simple, like you didn’t need to force the comfort - there was already full comfort, a sense of community with this man. 

He was so different from when he insulted you while you were packing, annoyed by the fact that you pried too much. And now you were prying into his childhood and him yours without a lick of annoyance on either side. 

“We both had eventful childhoods, didn’t we?”

“What, with both of us in the middle of a war?” Steve asked, a genuine look on his face.

“Guess our wars never really left us, huh?”

There was a knock at the door. You weren’t expecting Torres again today. Steve muttered ‘room service, maybe’ under his breath as you went to open it. You were startled to find Scott standing outside, two massive suitcases in his hand. 

“Oh my god, I forgot you were arriving today!”

Scott scoffed, “Am I not as important as your other friends?”

You laughed and helped him inside, “Stop! You’re one of my favorite bugs!”

“Ha ha. Very funny. I’ll leave right now if you two decide to pile on me instead of each other.” Scott placed one of the suitcases near the door but the other at the edge of your bed. 

“We’ll be nice,” Steve promised, standing to greet Scott with a hug. 

“You better. Catch me up, please?” 

The suitcase contained your outfits for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding. Whoever was in charge of costumes definitely went all out, hoping their work would make the big fight the most fashionable. Steve was given a perfectly tailored suit, navy blue and velvet. It was lined with vibranium, inside pockets covered with it. That would certainly be handy if you were forced to walk through metal detectors - vibranium couldn’t be detected. His suit for the rehearsal dinner was a lot simpler, the custom black and white aesthetic, but still protected with vibranium. 

Your clothes were certainly not styled to match Steve’s, giving you a sense of individuality. It was perfect really - it would allow you to leave Steve’s side, if necessary, when the mission called for you to split up. Your rehearsal dinner outfit was two parts: a black, velvet long-sleeved shirt, slight turtleneck, and gold cuffs. It was joined by a long gold skirt, high-waisted, the front shorter than the back and sides more curled than ruffled. You would have to wear tights underneath, but it was beautiful. Vibranium was also stitched in for added protection. Your dress for the actual wedding, however, was a total knockout. Red, spaghetti strap, tight on top but loose once it reached your hips, a long slit on the left side. They were even kind enough to give you a pair of heels to match. 

Yeah, Steve was Captain America and his appearance will shock the guests, but your attire will definitely be the second topic in gossip. 

Scott was filing through the same papers you and Steve had reviewed earlier, a bowl of potato chips at his side. And it was peaceful - you and Steve even had the chance to nap. 

“So, you’re gonna see Jackeline at the rehearsal dinner?”

You wiped the remnants of your nap from your face and groaned as you stretched, “She’ll probably be busy tomorrow when we go for breakfast, so yeah.”

Scott shifted uncomfortably in his seat, eyes practically attached to the computer screen. “And… she’s the one getting married?”

His tone started to worry Steve, “Yes, Scott. You good?”

Scott piled a handful of potato chips in his mouth, finger clicking the mouse every few seconds. His eyes were now wide, blinks forgotten. “Jackeline Vega. Jackeline.”

Steve ignored him now, “Hey, why isn’t your last name Vega?”

As much as you wanted to share about how and why you changed your last name, Scott’s demeanor interested you more. “Changed it when I became an American citizen - Scott, what’s up?”

He let out a tiny squeak, swallowing his snack quickly. “And she’s your father’s favorite?”

You rolled your eyes, “Mmm.”

Scott released a huge huff of air, shoulders falling as he raised his voice and turned the monitor to face you. “Think he knows anything about this?”

The photograph was blurry because it was enhanced, but you could still make out the face of a sister you hadn’t seen in years. Older, still with teenage features obviously, and tossed on what looked like a church alter-

Steve's eyes widened, “Is she…?”

Scott finished his sentence for him, “Fucking a priest?”

You covered your mouth in shock, “Oh my god, she’s fucking a priest!”

Bent on the literal church altar, skirt bunched around her hips, head thrown back in ecstasy and face in full view. And the damned priest, in between her legs and under the eyes of god. 

“That’s why I asked!”

Steve clutched at his chest, head thrown back as he howled, “I think you were wrong about your sister.”

Now your eyes were glued to the screen, “Oh, I was fuck all from correct!”

Scott cleared his throat, “Is the priest… her fiance?”

Steve came down from his laugh attack, “I highly doubt that, Scott.”

“This is actually really damning evidence.”

You grinned at Scott, “For what? Painting her out to look like the most sinful whore? I might just congratulate her.”

Steve stared at you, judging almost. “For fucking a priest?”

“For proving me wrong. She’s not so innocent after all,” you responded, cheeks strained from how wide you were smiling. 

“Clearly. This is… actually badass,” Scott admitted, turning the monitor back to him.

You teased, singing your next words. “Don’t let the Lord and Savior hear that.”

Steve glared, “Y/N.”

You leaned away from him, “What? Anyway, that’s gotta be one the worst sins to commit, right?”

Steve’s expression contorted from annoyance to disbelief. “We’ve literally killed people.”

“Pfft, but we’re not fucking priests. Right?”

Scott answered, nodding quicker than he needed to. “Right.”

“You’re literally asking that?”

You pressed your lips into a fine line and tilted your head at Steve. “Steve?”

He glared at you for a long moment before slowly shaking his head. “I’m not fucking any priests.”

Your response was immediate, “Alright! I gotta hand it to her, though. Who took the photo?”

Scott went back to fishing through the emails. “Some sleazy magazine that never got around to actually printing these out.”

“Someone paid them off. Or killed them.”

“I wonder who,” you replied sarcastically. 

Steve continued, “You honestly think he would support her doing that?”

You shrugged and scurried back over to your unmade bed. “Not my problem.”

Scott interjected, “Okay, okay. How’s tomorrow gonna work?”

Steve answered first, “Well, we’re driving out around eight.”

You hummed in agreement, reaching over to unplug your phone from the charger. “Scott, you’ll just ride on one of our backs as we walk through the estate.”

“I kind of want to ride Y/N’s back this time.”

You snorted, “Now that doesn’t sound sexual at all.”

He hid his face in his hands, “You know, I heard it once I said it.”

“Course you did.”

Steve jumped back into the conversation, Scott’s embarrassment seeming to grow under the weird tension. “Then you’ll hop off and plant the bugs wherever you feel like they’re needed.”

“Easy peasy!” you cheered. 

“Bucky and Sam gonna meet us Friday night?”

Steve nodded, “That’s what they said.” He looked over at you, scrolling through your phone and already smiling at something you found funny. He cleared his throat to get your attention. “You know they can be out here in under an hour if we seriously need them.”

You glanced over at Steve, his sincerity greatly appreciated. “I know. But all my faith is in Scott here.”

Scott moaned quietly, “Oh… no, let’s not put all the faith in me because I can’t handle that responsibility.”

You propped yourself up onto your elbows, “You saying I can’t trust you?”

“No, no! That’s not what I’m saying at all-!”

Steve rolled his eyes and looked at the man, a sheen of nervous sweat starting to form on his forehead. “Scott.” 

Scott lowered his hands from his chest, “O-oh. She’s messing with me, huh?”

You chuckled and laid back down. “You’re so easy.”

The easygoing atmosphere for the next few hours almost had you believing you were on vacation, away from the bad guys and space aliens for just a moment. Almost like you weren’t in the middle of a drug war, a mob business, the literal daughter of a king. Scott had that effect, his personality such a sweet refresher and such a contrast to every soul in the compound. 

Thor and Peter were also sweethearts and fun was always expected when they were around, but Scott had this different vibe. Maybe it was because he was relatively new, or that he had a child, or that he hadn’t suffered the same five years as everyone else did. Like he wasn’t yet tainted.  

“You guys mind if I run a job inside a job?”

Your head snapped up at Scott’s crazy question, “You stealing something?”

To run a job inside a job was risky. There was no exact plan to keep both missions balanced, to somehow rank the other more important. You prayed it wasn’t something insane. 

Scott chuckled under his breath, already grabbing his jacket and suitcase by the door. “No, I’m not stealing something. Hank needs me to speak to some guy he’s doing negotiations with about a space for a new lab headquarters.”

Steve tilted his head, “In Northern California?”

“Nah, the dude is vacationing out here for the time being. The lab will be in San Francisco again.”

You squinted at him, still cautious. “Where you meeting him?”

“Some nice Italian restaurant an hour out.”

Steve spoke before you did, similar thoughts running through his mind. “You check with Torres? We don’t know who might randomly show up there.”

Scott tried his best to reassure you, “Yeah, he said they’re following every car that leaves the premises and travels more than thirty minutes away. None of Ernesto’s men have been spotted further up north.”

You sighed. You didn’t want another member of your team to venture out in this area, let alone this goddamn state, without your eyes on them. You were protective, the proximity of your outside world with the one you had spent ten years building too suffocating of a reality. 

Still, you told Scott goodbye with a steady voice. “Then enjoy your dinner, Scott.”

His voice picked up again, that childish and upbeat feeling wrapping you around his finger. “You guys wanna come with? I’m sure you’re sick of icky hotel food.”

Steve waved him off, “It’s actually not that bad-”

“Breadsticks. Garlic pasta. More breadsticks.”

You laughed, “That sounds nice, Scott but we can stay here-”

“Three-cheese pastas.”

“Scott, you can try all you want but-”

“Unlimited breadsticks.”

You shared a look at Steve, puckering your lips at the suggestion. 

“.... We’ll sit far away from your table, okay?”

Scott opened the hotel door and started sprinting down the hallway. “I knew I could persuade you with that! C’mon!”

     California at night was a death trap. Potholes on every stretch of asphalt, construction halted for who knows how long, random opossums lingering in the shadows just waiting to get hit by tires. It was prettier during the day - less of a ‘lead me into this forest, yes, kill me’ vibe. 

You chilled in the backseat while Scott drove you guys to the restaurant. You had texted Bucky where you were planning to go, the message activating the group text chain. 

Peter: it’s Wednesday! Who died?

Wanda: she’s literally texting us

Peter: Y/N, you won???

Bucky: fuck do I owe the fucking spider money?

Peter: pay up dude

Y/N: tf Bucky? You bet against me?

      “You sure you two are good?”

The restaurant looked quiet considering it was a Wednesday night, but it was still crowded. There was a short line extending out the door and a… bouncer. You sucked in a breath and smacked Scott in the chest once you were out of the car. 

“Thought you said this was a restaurant?”

Scott rubbed his chest, a look of disbelief spreading across his face. “Restaurant slash bar!”

“We eating with the Italian mob now? I can only handle one mob at a time, Scott.”

You nodded rapidly, pointing at Steve. “I agree with him!”

“Not every place has bad guys!”

You groaned and reluctantly stood at the back of line, pulling Steve’s hat lower on his forehead. It wasn’t like people couldn’t take one long, hard look at him and not know who he was, anyway. 

“Can you guys just… enjoy a night out?”

“While on a mission?”

“While living your long lives. God, Y/N, you getting old already?”

Your mouth dropped, “I’m twenty-six and I’m not complaining about a nice dinner, Scott.” You pointed at the bouncer. “I’m worried about the fact that our ID’s are gonna be checked.”

Scott’s mouth formed an ‘O’. “Yeah, that.”

“Next.”

You shot Steve a worried look but handed the bouncer your driver’s license. He just looked at the date of birth and moved you along. “Next.”

Scott handed him his, doing his best to smile proudly while the bouncer scanned him up and down. “Next.”

“See? Wasn’t so hard,” Scott joked, standing next to you in the far corner of the entrance. 

You rolled your eyes, “Wait.”

The bouncer took one look at Steve’s ID and gasped. Steve looked anywhere but the bouncer’s eyes, his bottom lip suffering the abuse of his incisors. 

“Cap-Captain?”

Steve gave a sheepish grin, lowering his cap further. “Uh, yeah.”

“Enjoying your day?”

You pinched your nose. 

“Would like it a lot more if you could lead us to a table with as much privacy as you can offer.”

You had to hand it to Steve for taking advantage of situations like this. 

The bouncer agreed immediately, speaking with the manager and promising discretion. The manager said it was no problem, that it was the least he could do for you guys after you brought his son back to him after those rough five years. 

The restaurant offered a somewhat real Italian setting, awarding their guests with as much real scenery and architecture it could. You could only compare it to the Venetian in Vegas as you had never actually been to Italy, but the live band and garlic smell was enough to transport you. 

The lights were low, older couples enjoying the food and wine, and there was a small bar near the back of the restaurant. It wasn’t really a place for some shady business, but years of experience let you know that wasn’t always the case. It was second nature to eye women reaching into their purses, only to pull out a pack of gum. Second nature to wince at the sound of a loud laugh cutting through the quiet atmosphere. 

As promised, you were led to a more private area of the restaurant, closer to the bar than to the band. 

“Go run the job, Scott. We’ll just be enjoying our unlimited breadsticks,” you said, letting out a heavy and relaxed sigh as you settled into the private booth. 

“That hat isn't really hiding those broad shoulders, Cap,” Scott laughed, slapping Steve on the back.

Steve slid into the same booth, ignoring the completely empty seat across from you. “Thanks, Scott. I’m aware.”

You tried to hide your blush as you squeezed deeper in your seat. Scott noticed though, side eyeing Steve who was none the wiser. “You know, I told him that he should have used those facial changing things SHIELD used to have.”

Steve grabbed the offered utensils and started unwrapping them from their napkins. 

“What are we if not superheroes who think a baseball cap and glasses hide our identities?” you teased, shooting Scott a quick wink. 

Steve answered almost triumphantly, “Uh, Superman?”

You giggled and grabbed the napkin he had unwrapped for you. “I’d argue Thor is more like Superman, but okay.”

“How am I not more like Superman? What-”

“Uh, guys? I see the dude so I’m gonna go. You two enjoy your meal,” Scott interrupted, running off to a booth located toward the middle of the restaurant. 

You sat for a few awkward moments before you squinted and looked at Steve, who was sitting to your left and way too close. “Are we annoying?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like,” you spoke with your hands, “you and I bicker a lot because we love to annoy each other but you think it gets on other people’s nerves?”

Steve chuckled, rubbing his shoulder with yours. “Do you really care if it does?”

That blush of yours was starting to feel warmer. “No, just wondering if you felt that way.”

He shrugged, “I quite like our relationship.”

“Oh,” you smiled, looking down at your lap.  “I quite liked it more a few years back but you know.” 

He immediately tensed, body leaning away from you as if you were burning him. You shut your eyes and shook your head. “Sorry, that was low.”

He sighed deeply, “No, I deserve it. I’ll always deserve it.”

You took a risk and reached for his hand, squeezing gently. The kind gesture seemed to calm him, and he looked back at you. “I still shouldn’t have said it.”

He accepted that, and handed you the menu. 

The hotel food was grand, it did its job of filling you up and providing the necessary nutrients, but there was just something about the carbs in pasta and bread. It ignited the food critic inside you, because now you were cursing the hotel chef and dreading having to order breakfast in the morning. No, dinner. You were having breakfast with your father tomorrow. 

Scott was busy conducting his own business, bluetooth turned off but still glancing over his shoulder once in a while to check on you guys. Each time he did, he felt butterflies flutter in his breadstick-filled stomach. It was the first time he had seen the two of you so carefree, let alone with each other, and it was the most refreshing thing in the world. 

Steve was in the middle of telling another childhood story, his main plate already finished and practically licked clean. But the unlimited breadsticks were coming out by the pound, a new stick in each of your hands every five minutes. 

“I swear, she loved Bucky more than me!”

You covered your mouth and chewed, careful to not let anything through because of your giggle fit. “Steve! Your mother did not!”

Steve wiped at his under eye, clutching his chest as he continued explaining. “Bucky was always around and my mom would just linger every second she wasn’t working!”

“Bet she loved him.”

“See?”

“No, I mean she must have loved him like her own! Bucky was your best friend, your only friend. She probably thought of him like an angel sent from God!” you clarified. 

Steve smiled wider at your cheesy explanation. They were happy memories, joyful ones that he would often think about while writing or drawing. 

He continued with a soft confession. “I really wish I could see her again.”

You leaned your temple on your palm, “From everything you’ve shared with me, she sounds lovely.”

“She would have loved you.” The blush was back, and so was Steve’s, almost like those words were supposed to be kept in the back of his head. He cleared his throat. “God, she was so destroyed when Bucky first got his orders.”

“Was Bucky scared?”

“Scared? Absolutely fucking terrified. We talked about running away and changing our names so he didn’t have to go.”

The draft was such a horrible practice. The fact that men still had to enlist and hope no ‘necessary’ war was upon them. It was quite reassuring to know most of those men wouldn’t have to see battle today, they were given a choice, and there were agencies that managed people who could, like the Avengers. 

“Steve…”

Steve just hummed softly, “Life in the forties, am I right?

Your voice also got quieter. “Why didn’t you run away?”

Steve huffed out a laugh, swallowing the last of his bread. “We tried. Got all the way to the edge of town before Bucky’s dad wrung us both back to kick our asses.”

Almost out of instinct, you gripped his hand again. You rubbed soothing circles into his knuckles, knuckles that hadn’t seen hand-to-hand combat in so long. There wasn’t much danger in the world nowadays, just small missions here and there. It wasn’t like the team was itching for another alien invasion. But these periods of well needed rest were odd, periods where bruises completely healed up and little pockets of weight were gained. Steve’s knuckles were soft, only having seen the ends of paintbrushes for a long while. 

 “...Where’s your mother?”

His voice snapped you from your thoughts, and you had to repeat the question in your own head a couple times. 

“It’s not a happy story.”

There wasn’t much of a story anyway. 

“But is it a story you need to get off your chest?”

Steve didn’t want to push too hard. The long pause in your relationship definitely didn’t soften this blow, and it only added to the strings of resistance. If you decided not to tell Steve about this, Steve would have to accept it. If anything, this was one of the toughest questions to ask someone when all you’ve been doing is ignoring them for two years. 

“Not really much to get rid of.”

He nodded, only a slight hint of disappointment laced within his words. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Natasha was the only one with any knowledge of your mom. There was never an actual moment in which you freely spoke of her - inserting her likeness, her person, back into some alternate and fucked-up reality - you kept her legacy dead. It was obvious she hadn’t enjoyed this part of her life, no doubt it absolutely killed her to leave you trapped in it, so keeping her dead, even in conversation, was a favor. 

But one drunken night and you were showing Natasha the one photo you had of her, stuffed deep in your wallet and crinkled beyond repair. Her black hair to her shoulders, lip liner a darker shade than her lipstick, hands intertwined behind her back as she arched forward in a playful tilt, shooting the camera a smile that was stuck around the word she was saying as the candid was taken. There was no recorded voice but you had a record of her movement, frozen in time.     

Steve’s sincerity grasped you by the literal roots of your hair, because next thing you knew you were spilling the first thought you had. 

“She was twenty-three. Working as a real estate agent, very beautiful, and she was engaged. To an American.”

Steve chuckled around his champagne glass, “Was that bad?”

You grinned at that, like he was already fully and deeply invested in your story. “Not necessarily. But everyone knew she was taken.”

“And your father?”

“He wanted to buy some houses. Saw her, wanted her, tried persuading her into going on a date. Nothing really worked, she didn’t accept his money or gifts.”

Steve fumbled over his next words. “Did she eventually?”

“No, but her brother did. My father didn’t know it was her brother, so he thought she was accepting them. Got mad when she still refused his advances.”

He was digesting this little by little. Steve had heard horror stories of girls he grew up with, forced to marry at a young age when they were caught in a passionate moment with a man, or when they ended up pregnant. Bucky and his mother had always instructed him to treat women with respect, to never intentionally or accidentally ruin their reputation, to protect and use his voice to stand up for them. And although women weren’t getting frisky with him when he was all but ninety pounds at the ripe age of twenty, that didn’t stop Steve from exchanging a few words and punches with men who had no right.  “How did they end up together?”

You shrugged, reaching over for another breadstick. “No one knows. He invited her to a party one day and she didn’t come back for a whole week. Next thing her family knows she’s engaged to my father and no longer with the love of her life.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yeah, her family had no choice but to accept that. Her poor fiance, though.” 

“Where is he now?”

Steve had this weird hope that the fiance may still be alive somewhere, waiting for your mother to find him. But that was just the hopeless romantic emerging. 

You sighed deeply, “My father told my mother he killed him. My mother believed him.”

“So, he’s still alive? He didn’t hurt him?”

“Apparently he’s still kicking, yeah. But my mom became severely depressed from that lie.”

The restaurant felt colder and the air became thinner. Steve didn’t want his next thought to be true. “She didn’t...?”

You shook your head quickly, “No, she found out he was alive.” Even if you weren’t witness to it, you could still imagine your mother charting the areas she would have to run and swim through to get away. Wasn’t like it was a heartfelt thought, but the mere fact that she had that much determination to risk her life for love, it was somewhat therapeutic to think about. Like it was genuinely satisfying to imagine her defying your father. Still, your face drooped as you gave Steve the sad conclusion. “She didn’t even make it across the border before he had her killed for betraying him.”

His face fell in time with yours, “Fuck.”

“She left me with Maribel’s mother. But my father found me and told me she had an accident. Didn’t find out the truth until I was thirteen.”

“I’m so sorry.”

You shoved his shoulder with yours, a light chuckle cutting through the sad moment. “Not like you had a hand in this, Steve. It’s just my life.”

You were used to Steve’s generosity, his ability to make any person feel a part of his family - you had been on the receiving end of his sincerity for the past week now. But as you held his gaze, his body seemingly towering over yours, your chest flushed with such warmness, a tranquil promise of safety. He leaned forward, breath hitting your cheeks, hand still gripping yours. 

“Not anymore. We’ll end this, Y/N. I promise you, we’ll end this.”

You took a risk and rested your forehead on his, his continuous promise still causing your stomach to twist pleasurably. “How’d we get so sad all of a sudden?” You pushed away and threw your arms in the air. “We need more breadsticks!”

Steve laughed loudly, the private booth still providing somewhat of a thin curtain to the other diners. “No, we need mints!”

Rolling your eyes, you blew your breath at Steve teasingly. “Weak.”

Steve groaned, “You and Scott are not getting into the car without chewing on a mint.”

“You got a thing against bad breath?”

“Take the mint.”

“I’m gonna fight you if you force the mint on me.”

He was reaching into his jacket and pulling the small case out. He winked at you. “I’ll win.”

He popped open the cap and held it out to you. He didn’t tip it though, as if he was waiting for you to extend your palm. Everything was silent for a minute, eyes challenging one another. 

He could easily lean in. He could easily just tilt his head a little to his left and capture your lips with his. Every damn molecule in his body was telling him to do it, every bubble from that champagne somehow giving him some extra courage. 

Your breath hitched slightly, and he leaned away. I’m such a coward, he thought.

You reacted swiftly, disguising the awkwardness. “You’re right, give me the mint. You should swallow like three.”

Steve snickered, “You ruined the moment.”

But you didn’t ruin the moment. And he just blamed you for it. Like he had already established - he was a coward. 

You grabbed the mints he offered and popped them into your mouth. “What moment? I didn’t see any moment.”

Okay, he could just lean in right now and hope the mint freshness in your mouth would mask the garlic in his. Yeah, he could just lean in and do what he’s been thinking of doing for the last day and a half-

“Hey, you guys finished? Getting dessert?”

Steve almost shot from his seat, “Jesus fucking christ, Scott!”

Scott slid into the seat across from you. “You scare easily. Let’s get dessert!” 

You were too flustered. Fine, okay. You’ll play along. If the gods want to reward you with this fun Steve, the Steve you were closest to years ago, then so be it. You’ll bite. And if he wants to resort back to his bitchy self, his hermit behavior, then you’ll fight him then. 

Scott ordered so much dessert. 

So much. 

The little moment you had with Steve was still fresh, you could sense he was thinking about it too, but you opted to simply enjoy the night out. You were here with two friends, protection was just a phone call away, and you were safe. 

Perhaps Scott had the same effect on Steve that he had on you. Absolutely demolished his ‘Captain’ self and released the guy who simply wanted to enjoy a mini road trip with his friends. 

     You were barely fifteen minutes into your ride home when Scott lowered the windows and turned the radio up high. 

“Woohoo!”

You screamed over the loud roar of the wind, “Scott, it’s fucking freezing!”

Scott yelled back, “We just had three desserts each! Your blood should be running warm!”

You blinked away the dryness, “Dude!”

Steve, surprisingly, agreed with Scott. “Enjoy it!”

Your mouth dropped open and you followed Steve’s movements as he turned the radio higher. 

The music blared and you were about to protest again, the air literally nipping at your sensitive cheeks, but the song that started was a non-skip. 

You would indulge in this childishness once. 

Once. 

You reached around the passenger seat and gripped Steve’s shoulders, shaking him in place. “Ah, California radio giving us the classics!”

Scott leaned over and turned it up higher. 

You swayed in your seat and sang along with Scott. “Bidi bidi bom bom!”

Scott pointed at you and recited the lyrics, “Bidi, bidi!”

Both of you sang, “Bom!”

Even with his eyes on the road, Scott was nailing some good dance moves in his seat. You both sang each lyric with your heart and soul, laughs escaping during the guitar breaks. 

Steve just enjoyed the show. He didn’t know the song, the melody a foreign one for him, but it must have been popular for both you and Scott to know it. He watched you sway in your seat, hands dancing and voice matching the volume of the radio. Just the other night, you had mentioned how you never sang anymore.

But here you were, singing through the most beautiful smile Steve had ever seen. 

He missed the sound of it. He missed hearing you sing in your room, no doubt you were dancing too since he usually heard your feet shuffling against your carpet. He missed the innocence you would casually portray, an invitation for anyone to befriend you. He missed teasing you lightly, and he regretted the roughness of his voice years later. He missed just walking into the common area and finding you there, cooking for yourself and anyone who wanted a plate - that plate usually for him. He missed you. 

You were right here, voice hitting those octaves Steve didn’t think he would ever hear again. You were right here, and he missed you. 

      Scott was staying in a separate room. The dessert and alcohol had run right through him, and he bid you goodnight after he threatened to plop down in your bed if you invited him in. 

The sound of Scott’s retreating footsteps seemed to suck all the air from the vents at once, whispering its song lovingly in your ear. It was both refreshing and terrifying to be left alone because now here you were, standing outside your hotel door with the super soldier you had gone to Hell and back with. 

You inwardly cringed, the tightness in your chest sending your childish ass back to sophomore year of college. A first date, the lost promise of another - a proper teenage reaction to a crush. But this man in front of you wouldn’t let you delete his number from your phone; he wouldn’t avoid eye contact in the dining hall; he wouldn’t sit at the back of the lecture hall just to keep a necessary distance. 

Granted, Elijah - poor, frightened Elijah - had seen you literally kidnap someone off the street under your father’s orders. This being before you went straight and moral, before you had met Fury, before SHIELD training. You were to blame for that sprouting relationship going south pretty quickly. So you avoided him, too - praying Ernesto or Seda could never track him. 

But Steve, beautiful Steve who reloaded your guns when you couldn’t, who jumped in front of stray bullets for you and those he loved, Steve who very quietly asked you for various salsa recipes when he was in the mood to cook. Here he was, eyes also watching Scott walk away, no doubt experiencing the same tight coil within his chest. He hadn’t run, he had worked and fought with and against you, and he wasn’t running away. 

No, Steve Rogers never ran. 

The low beep from the hotel lock snapped you from your thoughts. You sensed his hesitance because when your history was truly reviewed with the most unbiased of minds, there was absolutely no reason to overthink. Hell, when you ran through the halls of Thor’s Asgardian palace with Rocket tailing you, the first joke out your mouth was how Steve would probably instruct you to respect a place like that and speed walk. Your first thought when starting the pilot episode of a new show is to wait for Bucky… and Steve, who would pop the kernels over the stove and add real salt and butter. 

His first thought as he helped load people onto the planes in Sokovia was that your whiny ass better be on one of them. Or when Steve regrouped in the support circle, his first thought before he continued the discussion was that he really hoped you would walk through those doors and join - until one day you did. 

Whether the two of you recognized the severity of your unspoken feelings, they were there. Silent and at a gradual increase. Never rushed, not entirely obvious because of the temporary roadblocks of unnecessary separation. 

Steve was here in front of you, like he always was, and he was wearing the smallest nervous smile you had ever seen.  

And you were here in front of him, like you always were, and he could not entirely read the mixed emotions on your delicate face. 

You shuffled alongside your bed, stopping to shrug out of the heavy jacket you had on. “We should turn in early so we can be well-rested, in case we gotta fight tomorrow.”

Steve nodded in agreement but remained silent, hovering near the coffee table and monitors. Your back was facing him and he just watched you fumble with your boots and belt. It was like your back was on fire, bursting with fueled flames as you could literally feel his gaze boring into you. The overwhelming urge to simply snap and ask him what the hell he was looking at was strong, so in character, but you refrained. It was too intimate, too quiet, but before you could even ask him if he wanted the shower first, the warmth of his chest was near, inches away and calling. 

Your breath hitched, shoulders rising slightly and exactly what Steve needed to witness. It was awkward for him to just stand behind you with no actual intention of touching you first - no, he needed a proper signal. So Steve waited those few precious seconds more until you turned, sun-kissed by the California sun and hair no longer in tight curls, before he glanced down at your glossy lips. You followed his eyesight, all knowing in his intentions, and you glanced at his lips as well. 

A gesture of approval. 

Steve pulled you in, both hands settling on your cheeks, thumbs exploring the corners of your mouth. He watched them dance and how your mouth parted slightly in response. He looked back up, studying the small crease forming in between your eyebrows and the pinch of water filling the inside corners of your eyes.

His thumbs felt like a gentle sigh, a promise of a sweet caress in both the daytime and dead of night. Although all his focus was on you, his own features reacted to the moment. His lips were also parted, sweet breath with the scent of those classic tiramisu’s he had devoured, touching the tip of your nose and equally trembling lips. 

So goddamn intimate that you found yourself internally cursing those sitcoms Wanda had forced you to binge watch. Because the two love interests, albeit they had several months or years of growing tension, rushed into their first kiss for the sake of limited airtime. They didn’t prepare you for practically a ten-year build-up, a relationship that was both heavily work and friend related, the slowness of such a moment fans would most certainly be jumping out of their seats for. No, nothing could have prepared you for the warmth of Steve Rogers. 

Your Captain. 

You registered the soft feeling of his lips as they pressed against yours, overlapped only slightly. Eyes now fully closed in surprise and pleasure, you leaned into it more, hands placed on Steve’s rising chest. The squeeze of his hands cupping your cheeks caused your lips to pucker more, but you were relaxed in his desperate touch. He tilted his head a little to the left, your lips sliding against each other’s and noses bumping. Steve frowned in concentration, pouring whatever emotions he had felt throughout the last few years into this one kiss, and he knew he couldn’t possibly fully portray them. And almost as quickly as you thought about how sweet and innocent of a kiss this was, Steve’s tongue slowly peaked out from behind his teeth and greeted your bottom lip. 

His tongue traced over your bottom lip warmly, welcomed by yours as you followed his lead. God, you would always follow his lead. 

You tried to move in closer, but your elbows were already bent fully against him and his hips were only a few inches from your greedy ones. One tiny step forward and you would be completely flushed against him - but you chose to respect the distance Steve created. 

You let out a quiet whine, body shuddering as Steve applied more pressure. It was as if Steve had never heard such a sound - completely unexpected and causing him to pause momentarily. He leaned away a little, lips still barely kissing yours. He opened his eyes, gaze wandering from your flushed cheeks still squeezed between his palms and to your fluttering eyelids. The crease between his eyebrows deepened as he debated leaning forward again, to be selfish for once and to pass forth the trophy for ‘waiting too long’. But as you opened your eyes, no trace of regret or hate swimming inside your irises, Steve froze. 

You were his friend. His friend who teased him about the paint streaks across his forehead, who followed his lead no matter how ridiculous the order. 

He didn’t want you to inspect him further as well, so he shut his eyes and rested his forehead against yours. It was only then that he felt you settle back down from your tippy-toes. 

You gulped loudly, throat dry and lips instantly craving him again. “Steve…”

Steve let go of your face and dragged his hands lightly down your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He turned his head slightly, his breath now kissing your cheek. Although your cheeks were red, the absence of Steve’s palms made them cold. 

He took a small step back, hands straining to stay on your skin as he reluctantly pulled them away. The absence of any warmth finally woke you from that intense daze and you frowned at Steve as he pulled away altogether. The instinct to reach out was there, and you cursed yourself for being so clingy. 

“Steve?” you called again, voice hoarse but light enough to pinch at Steve’s fast beating heart. 

He looked up and locked eyes with your confused ones. Oh, you’re gonna hate him for this. 

He gave you a small and kind smile, one you had seen plenty of times when he was actually enjoying your company. He backed up to the door, gaze never leaving yours even as he reached for the handle and key card. 

And he wanted to bring his hands back to your face to rub away that wrinkle between your furrowing eyebrows. But he simply opened the door and left you standing near the edge of your bed, flushed with a deep sense of longing and growing confusion. 

Steve already knew the amount of heat he would receive from the moment gossip of the kiss spread. Whether he was first to tell or you were. Bucky’s going to kick his ass, for sure, no doubt about it. No matter his bond with Bucky, it could never excuse leaving you alone to unravel this situation. You had this hold over Bucky, a soft mutual understanding of mental torture, so this inevitable ass kicking would be justified. Plus, after years of being rejected over and over, mostly in the forties, Bucky might just kick his ass for simply being a dumbass. 

But Steve felt calm, an added relaxation due to the whiskey cooling in his hand. If there was anything Steve was an expert in, it was overthinking. You two had that in common - were you overthinking while absentmindedly watching TV? Overthinking while rubbing shampoo into your scalp? Overthinking while angrily stomping your way down to the hotel bar to hand his ass back over to him?

He let out a sigh of relief when he didn’t see you burst through the doors. 

      “Anyone wanna start?”

Steve glanced around the circle of familiar and new faces. The group varied each week. Some people would try, share their anecdotes about lost loved ones, only to never show up for another session. Others often attended and never spoke, but they kept returning. Steve didn’t judge their choices - he couldn’t. No matter how many mornings he wanted to crawl back under the sheets and binge eat packaged foods, he never could. He had been at this job for two years. There was both pain and satisfaction in what he did. Sam would be doing this if he were here. 

And he had to do this for Sam. 

“My divorce was finalized yesterday.”

Steve looked over at the man who spoke first, a long-time member of this particular support group, and grimaced at his confession. The man couldn’t have been more than thirty, no wrinkles or gray hair, and he was ending a two-year marriage. 

“I’m sorry, Michael.”

The man, Michael, shrugged sadly, “We still love each other, man. But seeing your newborn disintegrate in your arms does something to your soul that’s just… we both knew we needed to move on. Even if it was from each other.”

Steve squeezed the small, red stress ball in his hand and tried to offer more condolences and a kind smile, but it came out rather painful. He opted to stay silent in case Michael wanted to continue. Instead, another member decided to comment. 

It went like this for almost an hour with Steve adding in his empathetic words of wisdom whenever he saw appropriate. It was good for everyone to share so openly, to carry the conversation with minimal involvement from Steve. Steve had shared snippets of his story with the group awhile back, careful to not mention the gruesome specifics. He had let out as much as he was able, not as much as he would have liked, but his main job was to facilitate. Besides, Steve went to confession every month to talk to someone - anyone - even if he wasn’t necessarily Catholic. But that’s just the thing - no one knew who they were anymore. 

The sound of a scraping chair leg caught everyone’s attention, and they all turned to the entrance in search of the disruption. You paused in your movements, face scrunched in embarrassment. Opening one eye, you mouthed a quick apology and rushed to carry the chair to the circle. 

“I’m sorry I’m late. Subway was a bitch,” you muttered, your embarrassed smile growing wider. 

For over a year, Steve had subtly urged you to attend one of these meetings. He was witness to your nightmares, your destructive solo missions that even Friday had no records of, and your sudden breakdown last week. You were casually jogging around the outdoor track when you suddenly stopped and fell to your knees, broken sobs seeming to shake the trees around you. You were crouched for a good minute before Steve had seen you wipe your eyes and continue your jog. As if nothing happened. 

To see you here, whether to share or to listen, prompted the proud and erratic beating of Steve’s heart. 

“It’s completely fine. Time’s almost up but we still got time for you.”

You sent Steve a funny smile, amused by his professional tone. “Uh, yeah! A friend convinced me to come. He was pretty persuasive.”

Steve blushed, head tilting downward. 

You introduced yourself and let the group know you were also an Avenger. No one seemed shocked and you were suddenly grateful for this mixture of people. 

Steve sat and listened, his nerves settling. 

“I’m gonna be honest with you all,” you started, thumbs dancing in your lap. “And I’m not sure how you’ll react.”

Steve sat up straight, eyebrows scrunching as he listened intently. 

You sighed, wetting your lips briefly. “The day before the snap, I was supposed to die.”

You wanted to avoid Steve’s gaze until the right moment. You continued, “I went on a mission to Mexico. Alone, which was completely against protocol but hey, we broke a lot more rules than that.”

Steve cleared his throat which earned a chorus of chuckles from the group. 

“And I was technically on house arrest but I found out a way to temporarily disable that ankle monitor,” you added, grinning from the laughs you were receiving. 

“Anyway, all my potential backup was nonexistent. I had friends on the run,” you paused, glancing at Steve with a somber expression. “And other friends literally fighting another battle on their home planet somewhere in space. So, I went alone.”

“While I was bleeding out from a bullet my own father ordered, Tony was already up in space. Loki was already dead.”

You hoped no one commented on Loki’s role in your life. He wasn’t exactly a nice figure to suddenly name drop in New York, but he was important in your grief. 

It was slightly unnerving to be on display here, but you weren’t exactly planning on returning. You just needed to rant. 

“I stitched myself up the best I could in that quinjet - which I almost crashed,” you muttered, smirking at Steve. “Sorry, Cap.”

“This is the first time I've heard you flew. You’re not even authorized to fly,” Steve declared, face scrunched in confusion and astonishment. 

“That’s not important,” you teased. “But the stitches were messy work. Horrible criss-crosses.”

Steve was in a tiny state of shock. He had known what happened to you, but to hear you talk so casually about the day before the world went to shit - it just made it more real. 

You had mentioned before that you never dreamed about the snap, but about everything leading up to it. 

“I woke up, betrayed yet again by my own blood, and Steve was suddenly there after two years. We were gonna fight an outside threat.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and huffed lightly, “I was still healing but I was on the battlefield. Stayed close to Nat most of the time.”

The group was heavily invested in your retelling. “I couldn’t fight him, obviously. But I did see him. I saw how he ripped that stone from my friend’s head.”

A few winces sounded around the circle. 

“I guess I feel immense guilt. Like, I could have done something more even though realistically, I couldn’t. Kinda feels like I sat back and watched my friend’s die.”

No one spoke, but it was obvious everyone had survivor’s guilt. 

“And now, I’m living with the pain of having all three of my best friends stripped from me while also celebrating the fact that the snap took my father.”

Shrugging, you gave your last sad smile to the group. “I feel guilty for what happened while also being grateful it took someone who deserved it.”

After a few seconds of silence, Steve spoke. “You’re here today to tell your story. No one has to agree or disagree with you. It’s your story. Tell it like it is.”

You chuckled, “I could easily bother Steve with this at the compound.” You smiled at the teenager clutching what looked like a stuffed animal in his lap. “But I had nothing else to do tonight. My only friends are gone.”

“You and Steve aren’t friends?”

This time it was Michael that spoke, his eyes bouncing from you to Steve. You turned to Steve for some kind of answer. Was it a yes? Were you more like coworkers than true friends? 

Steve’s eyes softened and his kind smile was back. 

You answered, “I guess. I did come here for him.”

Steve rolled his eyes and kept his light-hearted tone, “I’m really glad you did.” 

Steve backtracked, clearing his throat as he addressed the circle. “I’m really glad all of you did. Same time next week.”

You busied yourself with stacking the chairs and dusting off your pants. Once most of the group had left, Steve gathered his things and walked over to you. “You take the subway?”

Your head shot up at the sound of his voice, and you stacked the final chair high. “I did. You drive?”

Steve hummed in response, “Want a lift?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “You’re not staying at your place tonight?”

“Nah, I haven’t seen Nat in a week. I should pay her a visit.”

He curled his jacket around your shoulders as you exited the building. You held it tightly, relishing in the comfort. The walk back to the car was quiet but not awkward. After such a heavy night, silence was most definitely needed. And just the comfort of being around someone you trusted added to the relaxation aspect of it all. 

Steve kicked a loose piece of gravel to the street. You watched him for a few seconds before you spoke, voice light and a puff of cold air escaping your lips. 

“Steve?” 

He turned to you and waited for you to continue speaking. 

“You know Sam would be so proud of you doing this, right?”

Steve watched the cold air leave his own lungs as well. He felt the weight of that statement pressing down on his shoulders as he looked up at the dark sky. “I know.”

     Steve knew he was utterly fucked, so fucked that any line that had been established was stepped over and kicked a thousand yards back. His mind was made up, he would not run, he would not succumb to some former mindset 2016 Steve would have fallen victim to. He was a new person, a completely different person than he was out of the ice and after the snap. He deserved to cross the line, he deserved whatever happiness was afforded to him - he deserved comfort in the arms of another after years of denying himself. 

He downed the rest of his drink with a loud gulp, mind made up, and headed back to your room. 

    It was best to just pretend it never happened… no? But did you want to pretend it never did? So many moments over the years where this could have happened, where either of you could have literally just said ‘fuck it’. As overthinking was a specialty, quite a useless skill, you thought about the countless fights you had. 

Red in the face, hands clenched until nails imprinted little crescents, absolutely seething at the mouth. Some of the things you would yell were vile, none at all honest but with the intent to cause pain for only a moment, and mumbled apologies later. You were literally enemies for these past two, long years. Enemies who had to be seated and scolded, tricked into accepting defeat and living as teammates once more. 

Perhaps one of those arguments could have been remedied by simply leaning in like you had tonight, by throwing each other against the wall, by pulling the roots of your hair as he tugged-

Nope. 

Nope. 

No matter how much tension you were now realizing you had for this man, tension that could literally be fucked out, wasn’t it too late to act on it? You couldn’t pinpoint the chance you maybe had and missed. 

Steve walked through the door in the middle of your rapid brainstorming. He just grinned sweetly and slipped into the bathroom. 

As simple as that. 

Now you couldn’t discern between the feelings of wanting to fight him or fuck him. Not being able to differentiate between them ignited a sour mood, and once he stepped out from the shower, you basically pushed him to the side to lock yourself in. 

Even the warm water hitting your body couldn’t alleviate the pressure of overthinking. You disregarded your hair tonight and instead just washed your body. As quick as you could jump back out and go to bed, the better.  

Sucking in a deep breath, you opened the door and shut off the bathroom light. Your eyes landed on Steve’s torso, shirtless and the only thing not covered by the white blanket. He hadn’t shaved his beard either, the length evident when he kissed you earlier. It felt wrong and right at the same time, a battle that you seriously did not want to deal with. To get involved with your mission partner was dangerous - not because Steve himself was dangerous, but because it was a giant distraction. A distraction that you couldn’t afford. 

But as he put down his book and lay it in his lap, looking up to look at you through hooded eyes, sleepy but alert, the ‘danger’ was nothing but enticing. 

You cleared your throat and padded down your pajama shorts absentmindedly, slinging your hair over one shoulder and focusing on plugging your charger into your phone. It was so silent besides your pitter-patter, and god, did Steve find that sound so relaxing, until you climbed into bed. Once your shuffling was done, the slight buzzing of Steve’s desk lamp drowned out all your other senses. And the longer it was heard, the more it sounded like a ticking clock. 

Steve shut the lamp off, the only light now illuminating your figure from outside. He studied your breathing, watching how every so often you would bring your hand up to scratch your cheek or move a stray hair. You looked so gentle, so inviting, so small. 

You were turned away from him and facing the wall, eyes shut as you listened to his movements. There was a small part of you that wanted to stay up all night talking, to lean on his shoulder and simply feel his warmth, to feel that beard against your cheek one more time. As quickly as those thoughts flashed through your mind did you scold yourself, that this was inappropriate and wrong and so dangerous. 

You felt a dip in your bed, heavy and unsure, a lift of your blankets, and it happened so quickly that you could have sworn you dreamt it. Steve wrapped his arm around you, his broad chest pressed tightly against your back and his lips attacked the skin just below your earlobe. Your breath hitched, eyes shot open, and your hands reached up to grip his wrist. Steve stilled. 

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed, lips hovering over your blushing skin and breath practically blistering. You could feel him now, hard and pulsing against your ass and ready to move. You felt dizzy, overcome with such a rush of desire that you couldn’t help but stiffen in his tight grasp. 

“Don’t,” you choked out, feeling his body become rigid and his breath begin to quicken. 

“I’m sorry I-” he began to move away from you, voice no longer a whisper and tainted with panic. 

“No,” you pulled back, tilting your head up to lock eyes with him. You brought your arm up to grasp the back of his head, and you tugged it back to your neck. “Don’t stop.”

Yeah, he was utterly fucked. “Fuck,” he groaned, continuing the attack on your neck. But he gained momentum now, arm squeezing you against him tighter, and voice cracking as he moaned your name. 

“Steve, please do something.”

Your hands found their way back to his arm, gripping it tightly as he fumbled with the waistband of your shorts. He played with it, teasing in his actions, almost as punishment for the years you tormented him with your attitude. His lips pressed harder now, finding each patch of available skin on your neck and flushed cheek, and Steve has never felt so aroused in his life. He wasn’t even inside you, but the quick gasps he heard from you did plenty in aiding the rush of blood from his head to his stiffening cock. 

“Tell me what you want. Please, tell me and I’ll give it to you,” he moaned, the slightest experimental role of the hips causing you to whimper. 

“Touch me,” you practically sobbed, rolling your hips back against him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt all of him.  

And just like that, he gave you what you asked for. He gripped your hip and shoved you closer to him, hot and ready and pressed firmly against you. He rolled his hips into you, little whimpers of his own touching your sensitive ear. He quickened his pace and he found it hard to think straight when the scrunch of pleasure all over your face, making you look so willing, was all he was focused on. He focused on the way you bit your lip, a bite and then a gasp, and then you were back to biting as if you were trying to restrain any higher moan. And even with only the moonlight illuminating the room, he could see the sun-kissed color of your skin and the bruising he was causing. He kept his mouth on you as he rocked himself against you, indulging in a few more selfish seconds of pleasure before becoming his generous self. 

He dipped his hand into your shorts and found the sweet nub that so desperately needed attention. His brain almost short circuited, the feeling of his fingers finally sliding into your wet lips making his throat dry. He drew little but skilled circles, each twirl of his index and middle finger in unison with the grind of his hips. Your mouth fell open by such pleasure, and you braced yourself by placing your left palm on the mattress and pressed down, nails scratching the cotton fabric and alerting Steve of your excitement. You pushed back against him, timed and in perfect harmony. 

You knew the room wasn’t on fire, but even if it was you didn’t think to check. 

“Keep talking to me, Y/N. Keep talking to me,” Steve begged, each rotation of his hips gaining pressure. His eagerness prompted you to reach back up and grab him by the hair, yanking his head to your tilted one and smashing his lips against yours. Steve gasped at the pleasant sting, somewhat surprised with himself that he liked that form of roughness. But who was he to judge his kinks when the tip of your nose was turning redder, the blush in your cheeks mixed with barely visible silver droplets of sweat, and a purple outline was beginning to form on your plump upper lip? 

The kiss was sloppy, uncoordinated, but still beneficial in getting Steve to rut against you even harder. 

He could so easily pull your shorts down and enter you, and if he was anything like he felt, then you knew it would sting. But you craved that sting and stretch, the thought of him inside you causing another gush of desire to leak from you. Steve dipped his finger deeper into you only to accumulate your juices and spread them higher. He went back to rubbing expertly, actions gaining speed to match your whimpers. 

“Fuck, Steve,” you moaned louder, and you swore you felt tears forming in the corner of your eyes. You pressed back harder, his hand rubbing and pressing down on your stomach simultaneously. Your head felt cloudy, the pleasure coursing through your veins and to the very tips of your toes. “Oh, my fuck.”

Steve paused his fingers to trail his hand back up your stomach and to your breasts, pulling your tank top down to spill them. The sounds leaving your throat set him on fire, desire pulsing everywhere - his head, his heart, his aching cock that was pressed so closely against you that he could feel you vibrating. He pinched your nipple and rolled it, closing his eyes in response to your dirty purrs. “Let me make you come, doll.”

“Wasn’t that the point?” you quipped, ass tilting at an angle that caused Steve to choke. He growled from the attitude he couldn’t believe you still fucking had during a moment like this and kissed you roughly, both your broken moans molding into one. His hand returned to your shorts. 

“Do that again,” he begged, hitching his leg up to rest on yours. The angle allowed him to drive his hips even harder. You maneuvered to provide the same tilt, grinning at the pleasurable cries that left your Captain’s mouth. 

“I think I’m gonna make you come first,” you chuckled and took his bottom lip between your teeth. You pulled lightly, concentration still in the circle of your hips. He looked back down at you, determination and undeniable lust in his eyes. He thrust his aching cock against you, sliding himself over your ass. He did it hard but slow, the pressure applied giving the head of his cock such a sweet squeeze as he bumped it against the curve of your lumbar spine. 

The heavy duvet was abandoned now, cold air from the hotel air conditioner failing in cooling you down at all. You both had a thin sheet of sweat on your clothed bodies, goosebumps standing proudly, and lips all plump and red from your harsh kissing. 

Steve held you so close, so tight, and his fingers were drawing such rushed and tiny circles that you swore his wrist had to be cramping up. But the sound of both your whimpers started to mesh together, alerting you of such a sweet climax up ahead. 

“Steve, fuck, fuck, ohh,” you mewled, voice now high pitched and yes, it turned Steve on incredibly but it also fueled you. Your pornographic moans ignited an even deeper desire within you, just the true fact that Steve was touching you, Steve was getting you to make these sounds, Steve is actually hearing these sounds, Steve is making the same exact sounds. 

 “I-, please, come for me,” Steve pleaded, cock twitching with each thrust as he neared his end. “Make me come.”

His begging, his equally high voice, his skilled fingers rubbing rapidly and the slight pain from that, his breath burning your neck, were all too powerful, their combinations causing the fire in your core to explode and make you see white in a flash, black dots later clouding your vision. Your nails dug into his moving arm, crescents branded into him. You clenched around nothing, walls fluttering and thighs shaking as they pressed around his hand and fingers. 

The inappropriate squelching sound of your juices spreading as your thighs clenched around his cramping fingers, the slide so sensual and dirty, had Steve rutting against you one, two, three more times before he came in hard but long spurts. His mouth hung open, breath still fanning your neck, and his eyes were so tightly shut that the force was enough to strain them. 

“Oh, fuuuck, yes, yes!” Steve groaned, his body taking longer than usual to recover. His orgasm was powerful, more powerful than when he got himself off in the shower or in the comfort of his bed at night, and he knew it was because you clouded his senses. Of course, there was an added benefit to getting off with someone else, aiding that person in the same endeavor, but because it was you, it made the climax even more forceful, more intense. The whole situation was both unexpected and calculated, gentle and rough, and Steve’s heart was beating so fast by the thought of what just occurred that he found himself wanting to spill into you all night long, and to apologize for overstepping an unspoken boundary. 

You could feel the wetness of both your own release and Steve’s, head still cloudy from such a sharp orgasm. You hummed in satisfaction, reaching your arm over once again to lift his head up by his hair. He hissed at the pull now, his body all fucked out and satisfied. “You good?”

Steve gave you a lazy smile, chest heaving in unison with yours. “I’m okay. You?”

“I’m good.”

Steve scanned your face for any regret just in case your words held other meaning, but all he could see was your satisfied expression, cheeks still flushed pink, hair tangled, and pupils dilated. He hesitated for a second before he leaned down and connected your lips, molding his with yours slowly and chastely. You both sighed at the feeling, highs now lowering and the coldness from the air conditioner causing a different set of goosebumps to appear. Steve pulled away, giving you one last peck as if testing the waters, and rested his forehead against yours. You both relished your post-orgasm bliss for a few silent minutes before cleaning up. 

You shared playful shoves as you cleaned up. It was almost innocent, a huge contrast to the sinful activities you two had just committed, but there was a genuine feeling of understanding in the room. Your heart clenched at the simple sight of Steve washing his hands, eyes meeting his in the mirror, a soft look in his that startled you. 

You gave him a smile so as to not alert him of your reaction, and exited the bathroom to climb back into bed. You drew the heavy duvet back over your body and cuddled in it deeply, chin hidden underneath and back facing Steve’s bed. It was a few more minutes before Steve came back into the room, shutting the light off, and looking at your resting form. He wanted to climb back in with you and hold you innocently, to have the feeling of your warm back against his broad chest, gentle exhales tickling the arm that would wrap around you. But he just looked back and forth from your bed and his, and he decided to not push the boundary further. He hesitated with this decision, but climbed into his own bed, the feeling of his cold sheets making him immediately regret it. He shuffled silently, his body facing yours. 

You wanted to lay beside him too. But whether you were making a smart decision or an absurd, cowardly one, one thing was certain: you could no longer ignore the stacking of such emotions you had for this man. 

It almost angered you, how much you denied yourself of even a simple crush for literally ten years, and it made you mad at Steve, too. Because if he hadn’t pushed you away, then maybe you could have accepted this sooner. 

~

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