#tried quitting my job twice but convinced myself against it but if I had I wouldn't be so worried rn but I'd also have empty pockets

[bluethedream]

knowing what's coming but going through with it anyway

[thatrandomwriter]

Rooftop Romance

merle x reader

warnings: swearing, gore, sexual language

“You sure he’s worth it?” T-Dog asked, skepticism written across his face.

“Him and Daryl are our best hunters. They may both share about three brain cells, and Merle is about the biggest asshole I’ve ever met-“

“Hey, fuck you,” Merle cut in. I ignored him.

“But the fact is we need them to survive. We’ll make it out of the city, but you need to go before the others leave without you,”

T-Dog looked conflicted, but after a few seconds he dashed out of the door, racing down the stairs. I pulled the door shut, locking it behind him. There was a strong chance that I had just ensured my own death as well as Merle’s. The sound of the dead beating on the door almost as soon as T-Dog had left seemed to give Merle the same idea.

“Well fucking come on then princess, I ain’t getting any younger over here.” He had that god awful smirk plastered across his face. “You know, there’s a lot I can do with these hands. Maybe I can show ya once I’m free,” he made a crude gesture with his cuffed hand.

“Maybe if you didn’t say shit like that all the time, someone might actually wanna fuck you. You’re disgusting, you know that?”

Instead of waiting for his no-doubt even worse reply, I walked over to see what had been left in Dale’s toolbox. It was mostly screwdrivers and spanners, nothing of any use to me, but I noted a hammer and most importantly a hacksaw. Hopefully it would be strong enough to get through the metal of Merle’s handcuff.

“Call me disgusting all ya like, everyone knows you want a piece of this,”

My cheeks grew hot and I fumbled the saw, almost dropping it as I walked over to him. It was a humiliating feeling to know that he was right. To know that despite what a piece of shit he was, over the few weeks I’d known him, I had developed some form of feelings for him. Merle had found me while out checking the camp’s perimeter with Shane. Having just escaped the city, I was exhausted and terrified, and just about ready to collapse on the forest floor and give up. Of course, Merle’s reasoning for taking me back likely had more to do with wanting to fuck me than anything else, but I wasn’t entirely convinced that Shane would have taken me back if Merle hadn’t been there to bear witness. We weren’t exactly close, but we shared a fondness for drinking and he taught me a few things about using a crossbow. I didn’t fool myself into thinking he wanted anything more than a one time fling with me; he flirted with just about anything with tits. But some small, stupid part of me still hoped for more.

I sat next to him, pulling his hand toward me to get a better look at the handcuffs. When I looked up, he was staring into my face with another stupid grin. I sent him a glare back.

“Come on now, don’t be like that. Last I checked we’re all alone up here, no-one needs to know, part from maybe a few walkers,”

“Would you quit it? I’m trying to save your life.”

“Jus’ trying to lighten the mood. You should really try lightening up sometime, wouldn’t kill ya,”

I rolled my eyes, corner of my mouth twitching upwards slightly.

“Looks like cutting through the cuffs is gonna be a no go, but this pipe you’ve been cuffed too looks pretty old. It’s worth a try at least,” I lined up Dale’s saw, and began working at the metal.

“So I’m gonna be stuck with a friendship bracelet from Officer Friendly?”

The thought made me laugh a little.

“It’s not like you don’t deserve it; threatening everyone with a gun wasn’t exactly your best moment.” I teased. In his defence, he had most definitely been high as a kite when he’d started pointing the gun. Not that that really made it any better.

“I wasn’t gunna shoot em. Definitely wasn’t gunna shoot you, ya far too beautiful,” Merle said.

“And so’s Andrea, right? And Lori, and Jackie, and every other woman who isn’t trying to eat us,”

“I dunno, some of those walkers ain’t too bad,”

I hit him on the shoulder.

“Can’t I make a joke? Or are ya gunna get jealous, hmm?”

I stopped talking to him after that, focusing instead on trying to make any headway with the pipe he was handcuffed to. After an hour or so, I had only made a tiny dent in the metal. Merle was getting increasingly annoying, and the sun was starting to slowly set in the sky. If we wanted to leave today I’d have to hurry; travelling the city in the dark was a death sentence. At least the walkers at the rooftop door seemed to have given up, or gotten distracted by some other unfortunate souls. They had stopped pounding on the door some time ago.

The saw blade bent slightly, but I persisted, determined to succeed, speeding up. Under the strain of my sawing, the blade bent sideways, and suddenly snapped under the pressure, coming clattering to the floor.

“The fuck did you do?” Merle demanded.

“The blade wasn’t strong enough. It couldn’t get through the pipe. I’m sorry.” I felt suddenly numb. I couldn’t look at him. I’d failed. I’d failed him. He was stuck here, to starve or to be eaten by walkers.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m gonna fucking die up here, god fucking damnit. Look at me, the fuck did you do?” He grabbed my shoulder with his free hand, gripping me hard, shaking me, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” It was one of the first serious, genuine things I’d said to Merle, and it was a death sentence. Tears pricked my eyes. I didn’t have the energy to hide them.

“No. Fuck that, we’re ain’t done yet. You got a knife, right?” He was still staring into my face, but desperate anger had shifted to urgency.

“Yes, but it won’t cut through metal,” I said.

His grim expression told me that he had already figured that out.

“You can’t be serious. You want me to- I can’t,” There had to be another way.

“You got no choice. It’s my hand or my life.”

It took me a few seconds to process this. The only way out would be to cut off his hand. And I would have to be the one to do it.

“Fine. But I’ll do it first thing in the morning. We don’t have time to get out of the city before it gets dark, and I don’t want you bleeding out overnight.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you cared about me,” His shit eating grin was back. Only Merle could look this smug after discovering his hand was about to be cut off.

“Good job you know better then,” I smiled and sat next to him, looking out over the darkening city. At least we were stuck somewhere with an impressive view. The setting sun sent orange streaking through the sky, bathing buildings in a warm glow. I glanced to my side. Merle appeared to also be taking in the sunset in a rare moment of silence.

*

“I’d do the same for you ya know,” Merle said, breaking the silence after a few minutes.

“No you wouldn’t.” I replied. It wasn’t something that upset me, it was just a fact - if the roles were reversed, I had doubts that Merle would have stayed on this rooftop even for Daryl.

“Course I would. Yer one of the only people I can stand in that group, not to mention ya got a mighty fine ass,” He grinned over at me. I couldn’t help but smile back.

“You mean it?”

“Yeah, course I do. I could stare at it all day,”

I hit his shoulder with mine.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I ain’t good with the mushy stuff, don’t push it,” He was still smiling, eyes looking into mine for once instead of straying to glance down my shirt.

“Sounds like you care about me, Merle. More than you usually let on at least,” I was teasing him but this moment meant a lot; in short, Merle was shit at showing anyone affection. For him, this was like a declaration of love.

“Yer not gonna make me say it again so drop it,” he huffed.

“I’m just kidding around. And I didn’t just stay here because you’re a good hunter,” I confessed, staring pointedly into the distance to avoid his eyes.

“Course ya didn’t, ain’t no way you’d let me die without getting a piece of this,” It seemed to be his way of lightening the mood, diverting the seriousness of the conversation.

“We should get some sleep, busy day tomorrow.”

*

When the hot sun awoke me the next morning, I found myself nestled into Merle’s side, head on his shoulder, his free arm wrapped around me. I took a moment to enjoy the feeling of his broad body against mine, before pulling away to wake him up. The sooner we were gone, the better.

“Mornin’ “ he grinned lazily.

“You ready?” I asked, and his expression dropped to one of determined focus.

“As I’ll ever be,”

I retrieved my knife and a lighter from one of the pockets of my rucksack. It would have to do as a means of sanitising the blade as I had very little in the way of medical supplies. Shrugging off the button down I wore over a tank top, I folded it ready to use as a bandage for Merle. I could have sworn his eyes slipped down to my cleavage, far more noticeable now the shirt was off, but I wasn’t in the mood to bring it up.

“Can I have your belt?” I asked.

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” He said, the implied innuendo obvious. He unbuckled it with his free hand and tugged it loose.

I strapped it around his forearm, tight as I could make it, a makeshift tourniquet that would hopefully do something to stop the bleeding. It had to be enough.

Merle reached inside his pocket, and withdrew a small bag of white powder.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” I asked, very aware of the dangers we’d face in the city even if he survived losing his hand. Merle being off his face wouldn’t do us any favours.

“Need a little somethin’ to take the edge off,” He tried to form his usual smug grin, but his mouth wavered slightly. I nodded. Who was I to make that decision for him?

I gave him a minute or so, and when he nodded at me, I took my knife to his wrist and began to cut. There was far more blood than I had thought. And despite Merle’s best efforts to remain stoic, and the effects of the drugs, he was in an unbelievable amount of pain. I had to fight the urge to just give up and cry in a corner, but I did it for him. Even when he begged me to stop, to just make the pain stop. His yelling had begun to attract walkers, a few were banging on the rooftop door and the longer this took the more there would be. He gripped my arm as I cut, hard enough to bruise.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I muttered over and over again as I finished, his hand dropping to the floor with a sickening thunk.

Merle was breathing heavily, gasping through the pain. I pressed my shirt against the wound, tying it tightly and leaving the belt in place. There was so much blood. On my hands, my pants, the rooftop.

“Stay there. I’m going to clear the stairwell, I’ll be right back.”

He nodded.

I unlocked the door and wedged my foot under the door to prevent it opening all the way, a walker slamming forward and right onto my knife. It slumped to the floor. Another was quick to take its place. I worked my way through several before they finally stopped coming. Hopefully only a few had been close enough to hear Merle.

I hurried back toward him. The bleeding seemed to be slowing slightly, though it still showed no signs of stopping. He was losing too much blood. But I wasn’t willing to face that reality.

“You think you can stand?”

“Course I can,” he replied through gritted teeth.

I grabbed his good arm and pulled him forward, helping him stand, putting the arm around my shoulders so I could take some of his body weight. He was heavy, but any help I could give him I would.

We walked to the door and I lead him down the stairwell; it wasn’t wide enough for the two of us side by side, but he leaned on my back and I did my best to steady him on the way down. He stumbled a couple of times, no doubt the blood-loss making him dizzy, but we moved as slowly as I dared, me supporting him when he needed it. At the bottom, another walker lunged towards us. It took me a moment to grab my knife and stick it between its eyes, and I kept the blade in my hand after that. One free hand would have to do to help Merle. It was strange, having to protect him like this. Normally I was certain he’d object to me coddling him like this, but he had no choice but to rely on me for once. We made it to a fire exit around the back of the building in a room with several gas stoves. Merle wasn’t looking his best, blood dripping through the makeshift bandage on his arm. He seemed to have the idea at the same time as me.

“Do it,” He nodded grimly and I grimaced, but didn’t hesitate to light the nearest stove, placing a metal tray on top on the flames to heat through enough to cauterise the stump of his wrist.

“We’re gonna make it back, you know. “

“I know,” He said, but it was easy to see the uncertainty in his eyes.

The metal tray seemed hot enough, and I could tell he was gathering the will to do it, slowly, reluctantly unwrapping the open wound. I wasn’t entirely sure Merle could bring himself to. Gently, I took his arm in my hands, unwrapping it myself. Instead of watching the shirt unravel, he stared down into my face. Despite the circumstances, he still made my cheeks hot with the intensity of his gaze which I somehow managed to meet. I reached up, hooking an arm around his neck and a smile tilted the corners of his mouth. He waited for me to move closer first, and when I leaned my face towards his, he wasted no time in bridging the gap between us with a searing kiss. He was perfectly distracted. It was a shame to waste this moment but I did what had to be done, and drove his wrist down onto the hot metal on the stove.

“Son of a fucking bitch!” He exclaimed, yanking his arm away from the stove, and I winced.

“Shit, I’m sorry, but the bleeding’s stopped, right?”

He glared at me through the pain. “You serious?”

“I said I’m sorry, and I did just stop you from bleeding to death,” I smiled tentatively, and he shook his head, still cursing.

“So ya kiss like that fer a distraction? I’d love ta know what the real thing feels like,”

Kissing him had been stupid. But I was in the mood to be stupid, and I couldn’t resist kissing him again. He somehow mustered up that stupid, endearing grin as I pulled him towards me, lips meeting as his good arm found my waist. I could lose myself in the feeling of kissing Merle, all teeth and tongues colliding with no need to be gentle. His hand scooped me in closer until I was pressed up against him, before drifting to my ass with a squeeze. I hummed in pleasure, forgetting to breathe as he kissed me harder. When we finally broke apart all I wanted was to lean back in and kiss him again and again, to stay like this, pressed as close against him as I could be, not thinking about anything else.

“Knew ya wanted a piece of this,” Merle smirked. God he was insufferable. But I was willing to suffer, so long as he kept kissing me like that.

[nerdzzone]

Luckless Romance

Summary: When Whitney Taylor was lucky enough to get the job of a lifetime doing a photoshoot for Marvel Studios, she didn’t expect to come away from the experience with a new friend. Especially not a friend that she quickly fell head over heels for.

Convinced that those feelings were completely one sided, she kept them to herself - until one night changed everything.

Chris Evans x OFC

18+

Prequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy + -More Hearts Than Mine-

Note: While this is set before the other two parts of this story, I would definitely recommend reading the other two first if you haven’t already. I know that might seem odd, but I do think it flows better that way. This is more of an aside than an introduction, I think, but it could just be that I wrote them in this order so that’s how it makes sense to me.

Anyway! Thank you to everyone who has been eagerly awaiting this part of their story. The support has been so motivating and I’m already working on more little snippets of their lives together that should hopefully be posted soon.

Please let me know what you think! 

_____

August 2015

Growing up in Los Angeles - especially with a rather well known uncle - I was very aware that celebrities were really just normal people who usually weren't deserving of the obsessive adoration they received from the general public.

That being said, it still felt very surreal when I found myself sitting around a table with some of Hollywood's biggest stars as we celebrated the end of a long and tiring photo shoot in which I was the photographer. Three weeks earlier, I had been slaving away at a department store portrait studio taking boring, uninspired family photos, so the contrast between that and where I was now - sharing drinks with the cast of Marvel's next big movie after wrapping my first real photography gig - would be enough to make anyone feel a tad awestruck.

It didn't help that it had all come together so quickly that I'd hardly had time to wrap my head around it. The photographer that they originally had lined up to do the shoot had some kind of family emergency and had to drop out at the last minute. They were going to postpone the shoot indefinitely, but my family connections with Iron Man provided another solution. My uncle Rob wasted no time in giving Marvel my name and portfolio and less than twenty-four hours later I was signing a contract for the biggest career opportunity I'd ever had.

I was endlessly grateful - the pay was far better than I was getting at the department store and there was plenty of potential for more Marvel related photo shoots in the future - but the pressure was nerve wracking. I'd hardly slept at all in the few days leading up to it and by the time we wrapped, I was exhausted. As the adrenaline faded and the relief that I survived kicked in, I was very much looking forward to crawling into my bed with a nice glass of wine to get a good night's sleep before I started the editing process the next day.

But there was no time for rest with this crowd and it was quickly decided that we were all going out for some kind of unofficial wrap party. The official one had been two weeks before when they'd finished filming in Georgia, but now that they were reunited in L.A., it seemed another celebration was necessary. I'd protested at first and tried to sneak off before they could realize I was gone, but my uncle thwarted my plan and, after a few minutes of heavy guilting about how long it had been since I'd spent any time with him, I reluctantly agreed.

Which was how I found myself sitting at a table in a private room of a popular bar with my uncle - Robert Downey Jr - my Aunt Susan, Chris Evans, Anthony Mackie, Sebastian Stan, Scarlett Johannsen and Paul Rudd. There were other cast members and their friends dotted around the room, some sitting by the bar while others played pool, and I couldn't help but take a moment to be grateful that I'd been given a chance to join this team of incredibly talented people in some small way.

I was also taking a moment to be grateful that my placement in the booth we were sitting in gave me the opportunity to be sandwiched between the wall and Chris Evans - who smelt so good that it should probably be illegal.

There'd been a spark between us all day. He was attractive - I'd known that going in, it was a pretty beautiful cast - but seeing him in person with all his Captain America muscles was really quite a sight.

But it was more than just that.

There was something about the way he looked at me, flashing me those blush inducing smirks along side his teasing comments and the way he was so genuinely kind and polite to me throughout the whole day. I was sure that my uncle had warned them that this was my first high profile shoot, but Chris had been incredibly supportive and he never came across as condescending if he offered me any suggestions. He checked in with me throughout the day to make sure that I wasn't getting too overwhelmed and it was very much appreciated despite the fact that his effortless flirting often left me more distracted than productive.

Sitting next to him now, feeling his thigh pressed against mine due to the tight squeeze needed to fit our whole group around the table, had me very distracted again until my uncle dragged me back into the conversation.

"So, Whitney, how's Trent?"

His question, or more likely the displeasure in his voice when he asked it, captured the attention of the table and all eyes were on me as I shrugged.

"He's great as far as I know, but I haven't talked to him in a while," I admitted. "We broke up a couple of months ago."

"Thank god for that," Robert grinned. "It's about time!"

"Don't be insensitive," Susan scolded him, which probably would have been deserved if I didn't know how accurate of a statement it was. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I think she means 'what horrible thing did he do that finally made you come to your senses'?"

Susan swatted at her husband, but I cringed at the memory.

"It was really bad. I don't even want to tell you."

His jaw tightened at that remark as his glee shifted to something more like concern.

"What did he do? Do I need to assemble my team of Avengers and kick his ass?"

I giggled at the thought of that happening as all the men around the table voiced their willingness to help.

"Thank you, but no, I'd rather you didn't," I assured them. "It wasn't anything horrific, it's just embarrassing that I ever went out with someone as sleezy as he was."

Chris glanced down at me with a smirk on his face.

"Well, in that case, you gotta tell us now..."

The rest of the group nodded in agreement and I, rather foolishly, looked at my uncle for support, but all I received was a shrug and a raise of his eyebrow as if to say 'go on'. So, against my better judgment and with a sigh of shame and regret, I explained.

"He took me out for drinks on my birthday and invited some woman that he met on Tinder to join us," I informed them. "Apparently, without my knowledge, he'd advertised that we were looking for someone to join us for a threesome that night which was his birthday gift to me."

There was a collective widening of eyes and, after approximately two seconds of stunned silence, a howl of laughter came from my uncle. The rest of the group, however, seemed unsure what to say until Paul spoke up.

"Well, was that was you asked for?"

"No!" I shrieked in protest. "I mean, to each their own, but no! Absolutely not!"

My uncle looked like he was about to cry from laughter as the rest of the group joined in with him. All except for Chris, who was biting back a smile with what seemed to be a considerable amount of effort.

"Guys, c'mon, don't laugh at that!" He scolded them. "That's horrible!"

"Oh, don't feel too bad for her," Robert warned him, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "The guy took her to Hooters on their first date and she still agreed to see him again."

It was true and looking back, I had no way to justify such a poor choice. I felt my cheeks heat up as I took a long sip from the gin and tonic in front of me.

"Shut up," I huffed. "He said he just liked the wings there..."

"That's classic," Sebastian smirked. "That's what they all say!"

"Why did you even agree to go out with a man named Trent?" Anthony chimed in. "There's no way someone named Trent isn't going to be a douche bag."

Chris laughed then, throwing his head back as his hand came up to rest on his chest.

"That's true!" He howled and, as embarrassed as I was by the situation, I couldn't help but feel a different kind of flush at the sound of his heartfelt laugh.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," Susan chimed in despite the smile on her face as well. "It sounds like poor Whitney has learned her lesson so there's no need to make her feel any worse."

Robert shrugged and gave me a pointed look.

"As long as she promises to make better choices."

I appreciated that he had my best interest at heart, but I rolled my eyes anyway in a show of annoyance.

"Don't worry," I assured him. "I'm swearing off men for a while so there will be no choices made at all, good or bad, for the foreseeable future."

Susan frowned at that information, clearly displeased by my resignation to being alone, but luckily, a distraction arrived at our table and forced a change of subject - a distraction in the form of Jeremy Renner with a very full tray of shots.

Everyone cheered at the sight of him, but my uncle nudged me under the table to draw my attention back towards him.

"This is why I call him the Lord of the Underworld," he warned me. "Be careful..."

"Don't listen to him!" Jeremy insisted, handing out two shots to everyone except my aunt and uncle who weren't drinking. "I just know how to encourage everyone to have a good time."

"Does this group need any encouragement?"

Scarlett's question earned a laugh from the crowd, but Jeremy nodded his head.

"Apparently so or you wouldn't all be sitting in a corner, nursing your first drinks!" He pointed out. "So, drink up!"

He lifted a shot glass in the air and we all copied the action, giving a 'cheers' before tossing back the sharp tequila he'd chosen. The second shot went down almost immediately after and as I felt it burning down my throat, I knew we were in for quite a night.

-

"So, how are we going to do this?" Chris asked as we stood around a ping pong table with Anthony and Scarlett a bit later in the evening. "Girls against boys?"

"No way, man," Anthony shook his head, putting his arm around Scarlett's shoulders. "I want this one on my team."

"Ouch," Chris smirked. "But whatever, I was just trying to make it fair. If you want to play against the two best players then that's your choice."

"You literally met her today," Scarlett reminded him with a laugh. "How would you know what her ping pong skills are like?"

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but my uncle beat me to it as he chimed in from where he sat at a nearby table.

"She's terrible at almost every sport, but what she lacks in skill, she makes up for with competitive spirit."

"Terrible is harsh!"

My protest did nothing to reassure Chris though as he shook his head.

"Good thing I have enough skill for the both of us then."

"I have skills!" I insisted. "Let's stop messing around and I'll prove it."

Anthony joined in the laughter at my expense as he bounced the ball on the table.

"Alright, do we all know the rules?" He asked. "The ball has to bounce once on your side of the table before you can hit it back."

"First to ten?" Chris suggested. "We'll let you guys go first."

We all agreed and Anthony bounced the ball again as he prepared to serve. He started off slow and gentle, lobbing it over slowly enough that I returned it with no trouble. However, when Scarlett hit it back, Chris made it clear he was here to play as he hit it with enough force that Scarlett had to leap out of the way to avoid being hit.

"Yes!" I cheered, reaching over to high five Chris. "Nice one!"

"Okay, I see how it is," Anthony shook his head as he tossed the ball back to us for our serve. "No holding back now."

Chris smirked as he easily caught the ball. He didn't waste any time before throwing it back with a hard serve, but this time they were ready for it and Anthony hit it back easily. He aimed it at me, which I could only assume was deliberate due to my uncle's doubts of my abilities, but I managed to send it straight back. His surprise at my success was clear as he was unprepared for it to be heading back in his direction and we scored another point.

"Beginners luck!"

Robert's interjection from the sidelines earned him a rude gesture from me, but I knew he was probably right - unless the last couple of drinks had somehow sharpened my reflexes and I seriously doubted that as I was already well on my way past tipsy.

However, the next few rounds showed that my uncle had been wrong and I, apparently, had quite a knack for table tennis. Chris and I worked together like a dream and were absolutely decimating Scarlett and Anthony. The game was almost over as fast as it started, but when we only needed one more point Chris suddenly appeared to give up. He missed shot after shot and we were quickly losing our lead which was making me lose my temper.

"Dammit, Chris," I huffed, trying to suppress my annoyance as he missed a very easy ball. "Get it together over there!"

"Me?!" He gawked. "I thought you were going to get that one!"

"It was clearly on your side!"

"If that's what you think," he started as he picked up the ball and came back to the table. "Then you need to get your eyes tested, sweetheart."

"Don't 'sweetheart' me," I shot back. "Start paying more attention before you make us lose."

"Whatever you say," he smirked at me before adding: "Sweetheart."

I shot him a glare and - without thinking - I swatted his very hard to ignore, perfectly sculpted bum with my paddle. He yelped, catching the ball that he'd just thrown into the air with the intention of serving and stared at me wide-eyed. I was almost as surprised by the action as he was and I opened my mouth to apologize, but I was interrupted before I could.

"Careful there, Whitney," Sebastian warned from where he sat with my uncle at the spectator's table. "That's Marvel property!"

"They're very protective of it too," Anthony joked. "It's one of their best assets."

"Yeah, so show it some respect," Chris demanded, looking cocky despite the slight red tint to his cheeks. "And anyway, if you're trying to get me to focus then I don't think making me think about spanking is a great strategy."

"Ooh," I giggled. "Someone get me the number for TMZ! I've got tomorrow's headline ready for them: 'Chris Evans likes to be spanked'!"

Chris barked out a laugh, shaking his head as he gently served the ball.

"Who said I like to be the one receiving?"

My mouth went dry when I realized what he was implying and several uncalled fantasies flashed through my brain. With that short little sentence, images filled my mind of him using his large hands for something entirely different to what they were currently doing - something that perhaps involved bending me over his lap. I felt a wave of heat wash over me at that thought as my gaze was drawn to him while I wondered if he was aware of the effect that he had on me. I was so pathetically distracted that I didn't even see the ball coming back towards us until it hit me on the side of my head.

-

Despite my embarrassing blunder, Chris and I managed to get ourselves together quickly enough to still win the game and our victory was promptly celebrated by another round of drinks.

My aunt and uncle left not long after that as they were eager to get home to their young children, but my uncle couldn't go without a few parting words when I hugged them goodbye.

"Chris is a good man," he informed me. "I'm not sure what his stance is on threesomes, but he wouldn't take you to Hooters on a first date, that's for sure."

I could tell what he was implying, but I questioned him anyway. The only answer I could pull out of him was a teasing wink and Susan ushered him out the door with a roll of her eyes and firm instructions for me to call them soon.

I tried to push his comment from my mind because the thought of a man as handsome, funny and intelligent as Chris Evans even considering the idea of taking me on a date seemed like insanity, but I would have been lying if I said it didn't instill a tiny flicker of hope in me. I was fairly certain that he had been flirting with me so maybe it wasn't entirely as far-fetched as my low self-esteem would have me believe.

I tried not to dwell on his words too much through the rest of the evening, but it was hard to shake the idea from my mind. Especially with how tactile he was with me. Whether it was when we moved on to dancing and he pulled me close, whenever we were walking to the bar and kept his arm draped around my waist or when we eventually settled on a pair of bar stools, sitting close enough that my knees were tucked between his.

That was how we were sat, tucked together at the bar, when I finished another drink and realized that the fuzziness in my head and the weight of my eyelids were telling me that it was time to head home. I wasn't eager for the night to end, I wanted to stay in this little flirtatious bubble as long as possible, but I could feel the alcohol induced fatigue hitting me and I knew I needed to leave before I no longer had the energy.

"How are you getting home?" Chris asked when I announced my departure. "Do you want some company while you wait for a cab?"

"Oh, that's okay," I assured him as I slid off the bar stool I'd been sitting on. "I'm just gonna walk."

"Walk?" He raised an eyebrow. "Where do you live?"

"Only about twenty minutes away," I shrugged. "It's no big deal."

I was being purposely vague, but Chris' questions persisted until I finally confessed what neighbourhood I lived in. Once I did, a worried look clouded his face.

"Really? That's not a great area..."

"It's not that bad!" I insisted. "I mean, I'll definitely move once the photography thing picks up and I would appreciate if you don't tell my uncle, but it's not that bad."

"He doesn't know?" Chris raised an eyebrow, giving me a look that could only be interpreted as one of judgment. I nodded in answer to his question and he sighed, tossing back the last of the beer in front of him before standing up as well. "Just let me say goodbye and I'll walk with you."

"No, no, you don't have to do that! Stay with your friends."

"My Ma would kill me if she found out I let a woman walk home alone and I'm guessing Robert would have something to say about it too from what you just said," he insisted, flashing me one of his dazzling smiles. "Besides, I was gonna head out soon anyway."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded in response.

"Absolutely."

I felt bad that he was leaving because of me, but I had a feeling that any arguments would be futile. I followed him around the room, saying goodbye to the few people who were still at the bar before we headed outside. As soon as the fresh air hit me, I really felt the full affects of the several drinks I'd had throughout the night and I was quite grateful for Chris' company on my walk.

"Thanks for doing this. I'm sorry you had to leave early."

Chris had pulled his baseball hat lower on his head, probably in an attempt to hide his identity a bit more, but the people bustling in the streets were too oblivious or drunk to pay much attention.

"Don't worry about it," he smiled down at me. "It was time for me to go anyway. I've had enough wild nights with Renner to know that nothing good happens after midnight."

"Oh, I see how it is," I smirked. "I thought this was a chivalrous gesture, but it's just an act of self-preservation."

Chris laughed, a deep laugh that made my smirk slide into a grin, as he held out his arm for me to take which I happily did.

"Can't it be both?"

"I suppose. I guess you must be pretty chivalrous to take on a role like Captain America." As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt my cheeks heat up. "Sorry, that was dumb. I sound like some shitty interviewer. Like, 'tell me what aspects of the character you see in yourself'."

I'd put on a bad, faux news anchor voice for the last part of that sentence and I felt Chris' arm shake as he chuckled, but he shook his head.

"Nah, it's fine. It's a fair question," he assured me. "I think I've always been pretty chivalrous. I'm close with my mom and two sisters so they made sure I knew how to treat a lady. But that is one bonus of playing a character like Cap, he has such strong morals and such a steady sense of right and wrong, it inspires me to be as much like him as I can be."

Just as he finished his thought, I stumbled over an uneven part of the sidewalk and was only saved from face planting by his grip on my arm. I flushed with embarrassment again, but the alcohol in my system had me dissolving into giggles.

"Sorry, thank you. Wow, I'd say you really do have some Captain America traits." I flashed him a smile. "Was it like a lifelong dream for you? If you don't mind me asking, last question about it, I promise."

"You can ask all the questions you want," he shrugged and it seemed genuine, not just an expected assurance. "But no, it wasn't. I actually turned it down several times."

"Really? You did? Isn't a role like that every actor's dream?"

"Probably," he nodded. "But I did the Marvel thing with Fantastic Four and even that little taste of fame was almost too much for me. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do and I'm so grateful for all the opportunities I've been given, but it can be a lot to deal with."

"Those obsessive fangirls too much for you?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. " I was already having panic attacks, so I wasn't sure that I could handle taking that next step. But it's more just the total lack of privacy that comes with fame. Not just for me either, I knew it would affect my whole family."

"That makes sense," I nodded, knowing from my own experience that he was absolutely right. There'd been a few unfortunate incidents on slow news days where articles about 'Robert Downey Jr.'s niece' had popped up after some of my poorer choices in life. "Are you glad that you went for it now?"

"Absolutely! It was the best thing I've ever done. There are times when I still struggle, I don't do well at the premieres with all the pressure and the people, but the whole cast is like a family so the support is amazing."

"It's really sweet how close you guys all seem to be."

"It makes a big difference," Chris agreed as we turned off the main street in the direction of my neighbourhood. "But what about you? Have you always wanted to be a photographer?"

I paused for a moment as I tried to get my rather tipsy brain to figure out the simplest response to his question.

"Yes and no," I finally answered. "I've always loved photography, but I never really considered it as a career until about two years ago. I actually went to university to study accounting."

"Accounting? Wow, so you're a math wiz?"

"Hardly," I giggled. "It was what my dad wanted me to do to guarantee myself a solid career, but I hated it. I flunked out within a year. I'm not entirely sure that my dad has ever forgiven me for it, he was really disappointed in me."

"But surely he just wants you to be happy, whatever job you have..."

"You would think so," I shrugged. "Doesn't feel like it all the time though. He's very against the whole starving artist thing. He's not a bad person, but he's very practical and just can't understand how suffocating an office job would be for someone who likes to be creative. I get the impression that just being around me these days exasperates him."

I felt another blush cover my cheeks as I realized I was over-sharing. It could easily be blamed on the alcohol, but Chris was a good listener and I found him very easy to talk to.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "That was more information than you probably needed."

"You don't need to apologize so much," Chris assured me. "I wouldn't have asked the question if I didn't want to hear the answer."

"Sor-" I paused. "Bad habit, I guess."

Chris squeezed my arm and shot me a reassuring smile before getting our conversation back on track.

"So, what made you persevere with photography in the end?"

"I just really enjoy doing it. I love capturing those unexpected moments, like the awkward laughter in between poses, the moments when people have their guard down and don't realize how beautiful they look. Then, when I get to share the photos I've taken with people and they see themselves in a different way, the joy it brings them makes it worth any financial struggles." As I finished my explanation, a thought struck me. "I actually got some good ones today, just on my phone when you guys first came in, not doing the planned and posed stuff."

They'd all been so excited to see each other even though it was just a few short weeks since they'd wrapped the film. It was sweet and I hadn't been able to resist capturing their reunion.

"Really? Could I see them?"

"If you give me your phone number, I can send them to you," I smiled up at him. "That would actually be helpful. They're obviously different than the ones I took for the actual shoot, but you can tell me if they're any good or if you think I just got the job because of my connections."

I reached into my bag and handed my phone to Chris so he could type in his number which he did before shooting me a skeptical glance.

"Do you really think your connection to Robert is the only reason you got the job?"

"Well, it was all so last minute. I can't help, but assume it's a mix of desperation and some pulled strings," I admitted. "But I know this is my one shot. Robert really believes in people making their own way in life so if I totally blow this opportunity, I know he won't fight for them to have me back again and I wouldn't want him to."

We turned another corner, taking us just a few blocks from my apartment building as Chris answered.

"I'm sure he wouldn't have gotten you the job if there was any chance that he thought you would fail," Chris assured me. "But he is a good person to have in your corner. I probably wouldn't have taken the Captain America gig at all if it wasn't for him convincing me I could do it. He can be very persuasive."

I smiled at that information. I knew my uncle didn't like to take no for an answer so I could imagine how that conversation went.

"He can be very encouraging when he needs to be," I agreed. "Even if that encouragement sometimes comes out in the form of publicly shaming someone for their taste in men."

Chris let out another deep laugh and shook his head.

"C'mon, you gotta admit you deserved that."

"I did not!"

"He took you to Hooters and you didn't run away as fast as possible," Chris reminded me as if I could have forgotten such an embarrassing decision. "If that's not deserving of some public shaming then I don't know what is."

"Dating is hard these days," I huffed. "Maybe it would be easier if I had giant muscles like you, but it's hard to meet people."

"I think having muscles the size of mine would actually make you less hot."

I couldn't bite back the giggle that slipped from my lips as I looked up at him with a questioning raise of my eyebrows.

"Less hot?" I asked. "That would imply that you think I'm hot now."

"I do," Chris smirked confidently. "I think you're fuckin' gorgeous."

His words instantly made my cheeks heat up again. I'd baited him into the compliment, but I didn't expect his blunt and honest answer. I was stunned into a momentary silence that only made Chris' smirk grow wider until I giggled once again.

"You're just drunk."

"I am not," Chris chuckled. "Well, maybe a little, but that doesn't change the facts."

There was a grin on my face and I felt like a little schoolgirl with a crush. Chris Evans just called me gorgeous. Any woman who said they didn't swoon in that situation was probably lying.

"That's very sweet of you to say," I told him, trying to play it cool. "You're pretty easy on the eyes yourself."

Chris squeezed my arm again as he flashed me a smile.

My apartment building was in sight now, just half a block away, and I was disappointed that our evening was about to end.

I was comfortable with Chris. He was nice and easy to talk to and I'd had more fun and laughs with him in the last few hours than I'd had throughout most of my last relationship. But despite our harmless flirting, I knew he was too good for me. I knew that I didn't stand a chance with him and that when the alcohol wore off and the sun came up, he would see that. As much as I wasn't ready to say goodbye, I could hardly keep us walking in circles around the block without him noticing so I reluctantly slowed to a stop outside my building.

"This is me..."

Chris looked up and nodded slowly.

"It doesn't look so bad."

"Because it's not!" I insisted. "Honestly, this isn't that bad of a neighbourhood."

"Well, it's not that great either, Whitney."

Another giggle slipped from my lips as I pulled my keys out of my purse, reluctantly slipping my arm from his.

"Your accent makes my name sound funny," I teased. "You don't say Whitney, you say Win-ney."

Chris laughed, but shook his head.

"Now who's drunk."

"Oh, definitely me," I admitted. "But that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

"Okay, Winnie, whatever you say."

He said my name wrong on purpose that time, but there was something about it that put a smile on my face. Emboldened by the alcohol and by his flirtatious nature, I decided to take a chance.

"Do you want to come up for a bit?" I asked. "One last drink maybe?"

Chris hesitated, but after a moment of thought, he shook his head.

"Nah, I should probably get home. I think I've had enough drinks for tonight." His solid reasoning eased the blow of rejection slightly, but it still burned me up inside. "Thanks for the invite though, maybe I'll take you up on that offer another time."

"Sure," I nodded, hoping I was masking my disappointment. "That would be nice."

"Great," he grinned before pulling me into a hug. "It was nice to meet you, Winnie. I have a feeling that we're going to be good friends."

Friends.

Good friends.

His words echoed in my head as I agreed and slipped out of his grasp. We said our goodbyes, I thanked him for escorting me home and I watched as he walked back down the street before I went inside.

Friends. F-R-I-E-N-D-S.

At least he'd made himself clear and subtly let me down easy before I had chance to form any wrong ideas about what our relationship was or could be. It hurt and I would be lying if I said it didn't feel a bit like a stab in the heart, but I was glad that he'd put me in my place before I made a fool of myself by making a move.

I knew I'd been getting ahead of myself anyway. I knew he was way out of my league, but he'd called me gorgeous and walked me home. He'd even given me a nickname. Maybe I'm just easy to impress, but it felt like he was interested. I guess being a big star in Hollywood requires a certain level of charm though and he was probably just used to being naturally flirtatious with most of the women he encounters.

I sighed as I let myself into my apartment and tossed my bag on the table by the door. I'd felt like the luckiest girl in the world only moments earlier and now I was back to feeling like I was a romantic lost cause. I dragged myself through the motions of getting ready for bed and flopped down on top of the blankets - it was too hot to be under them and I didn't have the luxury of air conditioning.

Perhaps it was for the best that Chris declined my invitation to come upstairs, I thought to myself. This apartment was hardly up to Hollywood standards, it was hardly up to my own standards even if it was all that I could afford.

As my head laid on the pillow and my heart sat heavy in my chest, I told myself that it was fine. If Chris wanted to just be friends then I would be grateful that he even wanted that. I made a mental note to send him those pictures in the morning - because I'd promised to and not because I was curious to see what kind of response I would get when he was sober - and fell into a restless sleep filled with dreams of my new friend.

---

July 2016

And so, we were friends. Good friends, maybe even great friends.

I sent Chris the photos he’d asked for the day after we met and we spent most of that day messaging back and forth. Our friendship only grew from there and, whenever he was in town, we spent as much time together as we possibly could.

But we kept things very much friendly.

There was some flirtatious exchanges, but I respected his wishes and kept the feelings that I'd developed to myself.

My career really took off in the year after we met as well. That first Marvel photo shoot had gone incredibly well which led to several more contracts with them as well as other high profile jobs. It was a long, busy year, but I was grateful and relished in my success.

I'd even managed to move into a new apartment in a much nicer neighbourhood which felt like quite a big achievement and had finally silenced Chris' fretting about my safety. I moved in May, but our busy schedules kept him from seeing my upgraded home for himself until that summer, almost a year after we met. He was returning to L.A. from a trip home to Massachusetts and we hadn't seen each other in months so I was very eager for our reunion. Despite the fact that were still in constant communication, I'd missed him terribly and had been counting down the minutes until he would be arriving at my place.

"So," My friend's voiced echoed through my phone from where it sat on the bathroom counter while I finished curling my hair into beachy waves. "Are you going to finally make a move tonight?"

"No," I scoffed. "Of course not, Hannah. I've not seen him in a while now, I want us to have a good time. I don't want to make him uncomfortable and ruin everything."

"I will bet you a thousand dollars that it wouldn't ruin everything," she insisted. "Honestly, I will give you a thousand dollars if you make a move tonight and it goes badly."

I rolled my eyes as I finished the last curly wave and reached for my hairspray.

"You can't put a price on my friendship with Chris."

"Oh my god," she groaned. "He's told you that he thinks you're gorgeous, he makes time to hang out with you whenever he can and he texts you every single day. He treats you better than any boyfriend you've ever had. How can you think he doesn't have feelings for you?"

I took a moment to spray my hair and give myself one last look over before taking her off speaker and answering the question as I walked towards my kitchen.

"Because he straight up told me that he wants to be friends," I reminded her. "And he's never given me any other signs that he's interested in anything more."

"He doesn't need to give you any signs. When someone looks at you the way that he looks at you that says enough."

"Well, I'm going to need him to say a little more."

Another groan came through the phone as the buzzer to my apartment rang.

"You're impossible."

"I know, I know, and my lack of self-esteem will make me die alone," I said, repeating the words she'd told me a hundred times. "But he's here now, so you're going to have to save your criticisms for another time."

"Just tell him how you feel," she huffed. "I expect a full report in the morning."

The buzzer rang again as I agreed and said my goodbyes to my friend. I took a deep breath and a moment to push Hannah's words from my mind before pressing the button on the intercom.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Win, it's me! Let me up."

I pressed the button to unlock the door and felt my lips slide into a cheek aching grin just from the sound of his voice. It had been too long since we'd had a chance to hang out and I was very much looking forward to a nice evening together.

It took him barely a minute to get up to my apartment, knocking twice before letting himself in.

"Hey!" I grinned, rushing towards him as he held his arms open. I threw mine around him as soon as I was close enough and squeezed him tightly. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too," he smiled. "Nice place you got here, someone's doing well for themselves."

"Oh, please," I giggled, slipping out of his arms. "I've seen your house, Mr. Evans. This is a dump compared to where you live."

"Nah, this place is great!"

"It's definitely an improvement," I admitted as I led him towards the kitchen. "Would you like a drink? I bought that beer you like."

"You didn't have to do that. I would have been fine with whatever you have in," he chided me, but I waved him off and assured him it was fine. "What's the plan for tonight anyway?"

I shrugged as I opened the fridge to get a beer out for him and a bottle of wine for myself.

"I don't mind. Do you want to go out for drinks later or just stay here? It is a Saturday so everywhere around here will be packed with women in their early twenties if you'd like your ego stroked a bit."

I was referring to the last time we'd gone out and made the mistake of going to a bar that turned out to be pretty unfriendly to celebrities. A lot of places in L.A. made it easy for celebrities to go under the radar, but the place we'd gone to apparently wasn't one of them. There was a steady stream of beautiful young women trying their luck with Chris all night until we eventually fled and went back to his place just to give him some peace.

Chris laughed, clearly understanding what I was referencing, but he shook his head.

"Honestly? I'd prefer to stay in tonight," he admitted, but a smirk slid onto his face as he very obviously gave me a once over. "But you got all dressed up and it would be a shame to waste an outfit like that on a night in."

"Oh, this old thing?" I glanced down at the short black sundress I was wearing, a blush covering my cheeks from his compliment. "I just put this on in case we did decide to go out, but staying in sounds good to me. I'm well stocked with supplies."

I gestured to the wine and beer on the counter and the few bottles of hard liquor behind them.

"Then we'll stay in?"

"Sure," I nodded as a thought hit me and I gasped with excitement. "Oh, we can sit on my balcony! It over looks the park and I just got a new little couch for it."

"Very fancy," Chris laughed. "You really are doing well for yourself."

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes. "I don’t think Ikea patio furniture is a particularly high aspiration for anyone."

"Don't sell yourself short! You're finally getting recognition for your talent and that's worth celebrating."

I smiled as I led him through the living room and opened the door to my balcony with a flourish. The heat of July in California hit us immediately, but the balcony was shaded which made it a more reasonable temperature.

"This is nice," Chris nodded approvingly. "Well done, Winnie."

He sat on the couch and held his beer up towards me. I gently clinked my glass against it before sitting next to him. I thanked him once I was settled, hiding the width of my grin with my glass as I took a sip.

"So, how was Massachusetts?" I asked, curling my feet underneath me. "Do you have much more time off or are you back at it pretty quick?"

"I've actually got some time off," Chris informed me. "I think I'll probably spend most of it back home. It was great being there the last few weeks. It just feels better than L.A."

"Most places probably feel better than L.A.," I pointed out with a scoff. "This place is exhausting."

"You should come visit some time," Chris suggested before flashing me a smirk. "I feel bad leaving you here when I'm clearly your only friend."

"Excuse me, that is not true!" I protested, my jaw dropping at his insult as he chuckled at his own joke. "I have plenty of friends, thank you very much. All those liquor bottles on the counter are leftover from my very crowded house-warming party."

"Oh, no, Winnie," he laughed, his hand coming up to his chest. "Don't try and provide evidence that you have friends. That makes you seem even more pathetic."

"More pathetic than what? I have friends!"

"Imaginary ones don't count."

I couldn't help, but laugh at that insult as I shook my head.

"You're so rude. I don't know why I put up with you."

"Because you have no one else." He shot me a very over the top look of pity until I swatted his arm and he dissolved into laughter again. "Okay, okay, I'll stop. Seriously though, you should come out to Massachusetts sometime. I'll show you around."

"That would be fun," I agreed. "I'm pretty busy with work over the summer, but I think I'm in New York for a shoot in September. I could maybe tie a trip in with that if you're still out there."

"I should be if nothing else comes up," Chris nodded. "And fall is a great time to come. It's gorgeous."

"I bet. It would be nice to experience a season instead of just this sweltering L.A. heat all the time."

I made a face to emphasize my point as I sipped my drink and Chris eyed me suspiciously.

"I can't help, but get the impression that you're not loving it here at the moment..."

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Not really. I thought moving into a better apartment would help, but I'm just kinda tired of it, I guess."

"It can be draining here," he nodded. "Have you thought about moving somewhere else?"

I sighed and shook my head.

"Not really. I'd miss my family too much. I'd have to have a good reason, I think, or know someone wherever I was going."

"Well, you'll always know someone in Massachusetts," he smiled. "And my Ma would love you. I'm sure she'd take you in right away."

"Awe, Mama Evans. I'd love to meet her...Mostly so I could demand an apology for her part in raising such a horrible man."

Chris threw his head back with another chest grab worthy laugh.

"Oh man, I know. My brother is pretty awful."

I snorted a laugh at his comeback, but shook my head.

"Scott was delightful the few times I met him," I informed him. "I was clearly talking about you."

"Me?!" He gasped dramatically. "What are you talking about? I'm a total gentleman."

"Imaginary friends don't count," I repeated his words back to him in a very bad impression of his deep voice and Boston accent. "Yeah, you're such a gentleman."

"It's called a joke, Winnie," he teased. "Try having a sense of humour."

I stuck my tongue out at him in response, but I had to admit that the teasing was nice. I really had missed him while he was away and I was relieved that we fell back together so naturally that it was like we'd never been apart.

-

Our conversation continued to flow well into the night and so did our drinks. A few hours later and several alcoholic beverages down, the temperature was starting to drop a bit as the sun set, but our conversation was just starting to heat up.

"So," Chris turned to me with a smirk as he sipped the tequila sunrise I'd just made for him. He'd sworn he wouldn't like it, that it would be too sweet, but apparently he was too tipsy to really care. "How's your love life these days? Any more trips to Hooters?"

I snorted a laugh as I shook my head.

"I need more alcohol if we're going to delve into my love life."

Mostly because the biggest detriment to my romantic life was currently sitting on the couch with me, but I wasn't going to volunteer that information. Chris nudged the bottom of the glass in my hand, gently enough not to spill any but firmly enough to lift it slightly.

"Drink up then because I'm curious. Especially after a statement like that."

The irony of someone who was very vocal about how much they hated being constantly interrogated and harassed about their love life trying to do that exact thing to me wasn't lost on me, but I knew he'd keep pestering me until I opened up. I did as Chris suggested and took a large swig of my drink before answering him.

"No, there hasn't been any more dates at Hooters lately," I assured him. "But I did go on a date last week that was disappointing in it's own way."

Chris raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? How so?"

"He turned out to be a Robert Downey Jr. fanboy," I admitted, rolling my eyes as Chris let out a laugh. "It was going well until I made the mistake of mentioning that he's my uncle. He wouldn't shut up about him - stop laughing! - It was awful. Honestly, he went on and on! I eventually asked him if he'd rather be on a date with my uncle than me."

"And what did he say?"

I scowled at the memory.

"He said yes and asked for his number." That admission drew another howl of laughter from Chris and I couldn't help, but giggle along with him despite my shaking head. "Honestly, Chris, it's not funny. I have the worst luck."

"You have the worst taste in men." He corrected and I wondered briefly if he'd be less confident in that statement if he knew that he was my taste, even more so when he continued. "You're only interested in the douchey guys and then you're always shocked when they act like assholes."

"That is so not true!" I protested. "How am I supposed to know they're going to be douche bags? We talk for like two days on a dating app before we meet up and they always seem normal!"

"What was this one's job?"

I cringed and took another big swig of my drink.

"A club promoter."

"Exactly!" Chris groaned. "And hadn't the one before him quit his job to try and get famous on YouTube?"

"Instagram," I corrected. "But, so what? I struggled for a long time before my career went anywhere. You can't judge people by something like that."

"For the most part, I agree with you," Chris nodded. "But there are some careers that only attract a certain kind of person."

I huffed at his logic, but there was some truth to what he was saying.

"Dating is just hard these days," I insisted. "Besides, from what I've seen online lately, you're one to talk about messy relationships."

Now it was Chris' turn to take a gulp of the drink in his hand as he raised an eyebrow at my claim.

"Everything you read about me is bullshit, you know that. I haven't dated anyone lately, people just like to make things up."

"Oh, what I was reading the other day wasn't really about who you were dating."

That got his attention as he shot me a surprised look.

"What was it about then?"

"I thought it was all bullshit?" I smirked. "Does it matter what it was if it's not true?"

Chris shrugged.

"Even if it's not true, I like to know what people are saying about me."

"And you don't have a team to provide you with that information?"

"I do," he nodded. "But they don't tell me everything so I'd love to know what you read."

I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling shy about disclosing what I'd seen. I took a moment to figure out how to say it before telling him.

"I stumbled across an article that claimed an anonymous source, who recently spent the night with you, told them that you are not particularly skilled at going down on a woman."

Chris' jaw dropped and I couldn't help, but laugh again at the outrage on his face.

"That's fuckin' bullshit!" He protested. "Why would anyone believe an anonymous source? It's obviously not true! Why would they even write that?"

I smirked again as I tried to hold back the laughter bubbling up inside me. Of course, I didn't believe an anonymous source and I felt bad for Chris that mean rumours like that were being spread around the internet, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to tease him about it anyway.

"I don't know. She must have had some kind of proof, they wouldn't have published it without fact checking."

"They absolutely would!" Chris laughed incredulously. "They publish anything that gets clicks!"

I shrugged and tried to stifle the giggles still fighting to come out.

"It seemed pretty believable to me. I'm not trying to be mean, but maybe just take the criticism and use it to grow."

"I don't need to use it to grow!" He insisted. "I have plenty of skills in that area, I've never had any complaints."

"Until now."

"It's not true!"

"Unfortunately, I'll never know..."

I froze, hearing my words echo through my head as Chris' eyes widened in surprise for a brief moment before a twinkle appeared. It was a simple statement, but we both picked up on what it implied, especially with the hint of intrigue, almost challenge, in my voice.

Chris tossed back the last of his drink and then shifted, sitting up a bit straighter as the look of annoyance on his face had changed into something almost cocky. I took a sip of my own drink, hoping to drown the nerves that were bubbling in my stomach as the cool evening breeze suddenly did nothing to ease the heat that surrounded us.

"Well, how am I suppose to prove it to you?"

He moved his hand until it was resting on my knee and I had to stifle a gasp at the sensation. We were fairly affectionate and much more touchy with each other than many friends were, but this felt different. There was a tension between us now and I swallowed hard, not wanting the alcohol in my system to make me misinterpret anything.

"I don't know." I bit my lip as he stared me down, a smirk back on his face now. "Why don't you de-describe it?"

Demonstrate.

Demonstrate was the word that I was looking for, the word that was on the tip of my tongue.

Describe was not quite as flirtatious. It was like I'd just set him some kind of essay assignment. I cringed, but Chris was unfazed as he chuckled and nodded his head.

"Alright," he shrugged. "Where should I start?"

Before I even had time to answer, he began his explanation.

His voice was low as he spoke, sparing no detail. He described every kiss, every touch and every little tease. By the time he was describing how much he liked to watch whoever was he was pleasuring, looking up from where his face was buried to see her orgasm roll through her body, I was almost shamelessly panting. His hand was still on my leg, stroking higher and higher on my thigh and I felt more aroused from his words than I had from the last few sexual encounters that I'd had.

He was watching me when he finished speaking, a smirk on his face and his eyes narrowed in a seductive stare as I took a shaky breath.

It was now or never.

Tossing back the last of my drink, I put my glass on the table. Then, I took the glass in his hand and did the same.

He was watching me the whole time, meeting my eyes as I sat back on the couch. My mind was running a mile a minute as the gravity of the situation hit me, but I tried to push all thoughts of doubt from my head as I bit my bottom lip in anticipation. His eyes flicked down to watch the movement and that was all the confirmation I needed.

I darted forward fast enough that I wouldn't have time to change my mind and pressed my lips against his.

There was a brief moment when he froze. I felt his hand tense on my thigh and his body seemed more rigid than it had moments ago, but he recovered quickly and a low growl came from his throat before his hands moved to my waist and effortlessly lifted me into his lap.

I gasped at the movement, momentarily taking my lips away from his, but before I could even mumble out any comments on his strength, he'd pressed our lips together again.

It was a sloppy kiss. Spurred on by our mounting tension and the panic bubbling inside me that any minute now he would change his mind and push me away in disgust, our movements were frantic and desperate. My hands slid around his neck, one moving up to the back of his head as if I needed to hold him in place, but his fingers digging into my waist made me think that he was having the same thought.

Eventually though, the need for air forced us apart and I rested my forehead against his as we fought to catch our breath. The pause in our actions gave my brain time to catch up to my body and I immediately felt the nerves kick in.

Logically, I knew we should slow things down and talk about what this meant. My feelings for Chris went deeper than a drunken hook up and I was setting myself up for heartbreak if he wasn't on the same page. However, there was a more impulsive part of my brain that didn't care. I'd wanted this for so long, surely I deserved a chance to just enjoy it.

As if Chris could read my mind, his deep voice cut through my thoughts.

"Are we really doing this?"

I bit my lip, knowing this was the time to voice any concerns that I had, but as I stared into his eyes, I couldn't make myself jeopardize the moment.

"Yes," I nodded. "I'm in if you are?"

A smirk slid onto Chris' face as he nodded as well.

"I've been waiting almost a whole fuckin' year for this," he admitted. "I'm absolutely in."

I felt my heart flutter at his confession. If he'd been waiting for this as long as I had then that must have meant that we were on the same page. No one waits that long for a meaningless fuck, he would have made a move by now if there wasn't more to it.

In an effort to silence my overactive brain, I pressed my lips back against his which proved to be the perfect distraction. All worries and cares slipped from my mind as his tongue slipped back into my mouth and his hands drifted down to cup my ass. I could practically feel them burning through my thin dress and as they squeezed slightly, pressing my hips closer towards his, I could tell that my panties were already much damper than was probably reasonable.

But the anticipation was practically killing me.

My body felt like it was on fire as every brush of his tongue, every caress of my skin, every sigh that fell from his lips against my mouth, had me writing against him like a cat in heat. Often, when I'd imagined what this moment would be like, I'd assumed it would be slow - we'd take our time and savour every touch - but I hadn't factored in just how desperate we'd both be or how quickly I would be filled with the absolute need for there to be less layers of fabric between us.

Chris sucked in a deep breath as his lips moved from mine, sliding lower to kiss along my jaw. I could feel a bulge growing between us, telling me that he was as overeager as I was so, as shivers tingled down my spine from the trail his mouth was taking, I fought through the distractions to speak.

"Chris," I panted. "Let's go inside."

His lips paused their movement as he nuzzled into my neck.

"Not much of an exhibitionist?"

"Not on the first date."

My words were teasing and a shrug of my shoulders accompanied my response, earning a chuckle from Chris.

"Alright, that's fair."

I nudged his head away from my skin so I could press another soft kiss to his lips.

My intention was to then climb off of his lap and lead him into my apartment, but he had other ideas as his hands slid under my thighs and his grip tightened. With one smooth motion and an impressive show of strength, he stood from the couch and lifted me up with him. I gasped and rushed to wrap my legs around his waist for stability, but the smirk on his face and the bulge of his bicep told me that it probably wasn't necessary. He was incredibly strong and it sent another flush of arousal through me at the thought of the beautifully sculpted physique under his clothes.

"Are you bulking up for Cap again?"

I mumbled the words in an attempt to keep my mind busy and stop myself before I started rubbing myself against his stomach. With the way my legs were positioned there was merely a shirt and my panties between us and it was entirely too tempting.

"Nah, got a month or two before that starts again," he informed me, quirking an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

I pointed him towards the door of my bedroom before answering as I tried to keep the shock out of my voice.

"So, you're like, always this strong?"

Chris chuckled slightly as he kicked my bedroom door open.

"Well, I'm no club promoter," he teased. "But I do tend to stay at a certain level of fitness for when the job does require it."

My jaw dropped at his audacity to bring that up again at a moment like this, but I couldn't stop the snort of laughter that slipped out.

"Shut up," I demanded, letting my thumb stroke against the soft skin on the back of his neck. "Before I come to my senses and ask you to leave."

Now it was Chris' turn to laugh as he gently tossed me onto the bed before crawling over me like a lion stalking it's prey.

"C'mon," he smirked as he hovered over me. "I think we both know that the last thing you want me to do right now is leave."

With that, he pressed his lips back against mine before I had chance to argue. Not that I would have, because he was absolutely right. There was a long list of things I wanted him to do, but leaving was not one of them. In fact, as I let my arms slid over his toned shoulders, I pulled him even closer.

I couldn't get enough of him. I wanted to hear every little grunt and moan, I wanted to feel every inch of his body against mine, I wanted to see his muscles quiver and twitch with pleasure, I wanted him inside me and we'd barely even started. A year of waiting would make anyone desperate and, as much as I was revelling in his talented mouth as it moved against my own, I was eager to see what else he could do with it.

Sliding my hands down along his back, I ran them over his waist until they were at the hem of his shirt and, in an attempt to move things along, I slid them back up over his stomach, bringing his shirt with them. I paused, taking a moment to trace over his abs and he chuckled, moving his lips down to nuzzle them into my neck.

"That tickles," he mumbled against my skin as I smiled.

"Sorry, I'm just trying to wrap my head around the fact that these muscles are real."

"They are," he smiled up at me. "Are you impressed?"

"Maybe a little," I admitted with a smile of my own. "I'll be more impressed if you get these clothes out of the way and let me admire you properly."

He chuckled again, but didn't fight as I pulled his shirt over his head. The light in the room was dim and the way we were positioned didn't give me an optimal view, but what I could see was enough to draw a soft gasp from my lips.

I'd seen him shirtless and in even less from a few sneaky Google searches and watching his old movies, but seeing it all right in front of me was quite a treat. I had to double check that I wasn't drooling at the sight as I openly stared, my mouth slightly agape.

I realized I was probably ogling him a little too long when a faint blush covered his cheeks and he ducked his head back against my neck. He placed another soft kiss against my skin before he spoke.

"Now, it's your turn."

"Okay," I agreed, swallowing hard. "But just keep in mind that I don't look like that."

I ran my hands up and down his sides to emphasize what I was referring to and I felt more than heard him chuckle as he peered up at me once more.

"I'd be disappointed if we had the same upper body," he teased. "I mean, if I'm being honest."

I rolled my eyes despite the smile on my face.

"You know what I mean," I insisted. "I'm not sculpted by the Gods like you are."

His head fell back against my shoulder as he shook with laughter before shaking his head.

"You have nothing to worry about," he assured me. "You're too hard on yourself. You're fuckin' gorgeous."

His words took me back to the first night we met as the sincerity in his voice was the same as it had been back then. And there was something about the confidence with which he spoke that had me believing him.

So, as his hands slid under my dress - teasing the outside of my thighs in a way that had me biting my lip to force back a moan - I pushed any negative thoughts or doubts about myself from my mind. I even felt a hint of pride when my dress was discarded, exposing my lack of bra, and making Chris' eyes darken as they scoured over my body.

"Fuck, Winnie," he groaned as he soaked in the sight of my exposed chest. "You're beautiful."

I felt my heart flutter at the genuine awe in his voice and at his word choice. Gorgeous, hot, sexy - those are all compliments I would have loved to receive from him, but beautiful. It seemed deeper, more romantic. There was a brief reminder from the voice in my head that perhaps the importance of such a simple word was a signal I shouldn't be moving forward with this without having a very serious conversation about feelings first, but I was quick to ignore it as I pulled Chris back to my lips.

It seemed he was as desperate to move things along as I was though as his mouth didn't linger against mine for very long before it was trailing a path down my neck. He paused when he got to my chest, letting out a groan as he nuzzled the skin before sucking it just hard enough to leave a faint mark when he moved back. The sight had me squirming beneath him and he shot me a smirk before moving his lips to my nipple.

Gasping at the sensation, I arched up towards him as he continued to nip and tease me. If his current actions were anything to go by then whoever wrote the article that I read was very sorely mistaken. He appeared to be incredibly talented with his mouth and by the time he moved away from my nipple to continue his path down my body, my chest was heaving and I was sure that I was just one gentle touch away from my peak.

However, I was disappointed when he got to the top of my panties and, after licking along the skin of my lower stomach, pushed himself up and moved off of me to stand at the foot of my bed. I whined in protest, wanting him as close to me as possible, but all I got was a smirk in response.

"Patience," he mumbled as he unbuttoned his jeans.

I wanted to pout, to argue that I'd been patient enough in the last year, but any complaints died on my tongue as he pushed his jeans to the floor. As he stood in front of me, only in his underwear, my sense of urgency was replaced by an appreciation for the chance to admire his chiselled body. I propped myself up on my elbows to get a better view and he chuckled at the look of wonder that I was sure was on my face.

His underwear was the next thing to go and the anticipation turned quickly to shock as my jaw dropped at what he revealed. I could have assumed from the large bulge that he was quite well-endowed, but seeing it confirmed sent a whole new flush of arousal through me. I mumbled out a 'wow' as I bit my lip and tried to take it all in - he truly was a gorgeous man.

"Like what you see?"

His question snapped me out of my daze as he knelt back down on the end of the bed.

"Very much so," I nodded, desperate to feel his body over mine once again. "Come back up here."

"No," Chris grinned as he ducked down to place a kiss on my ankle. "Not yet."

Again, part of me wanted to argue and demand that he return his mouth to mine and get things moving, but before I could even open my mouth, he made his intentions clear - by tracing his fingers up my leg with his lips close behind.

I was quivering under his touch, still leaning up on my elbows when he reached the edge of the panties I was wearing. He glanced up at me as he licked along the lace before he bit into the material and tugged. I lifted my hips to ease his struggle as he yanked my panties down my legs with his teeth. The sight of it had me squeezing my thighs together, desperate for any kind of friction, but as soon as my underwear joined the rest of our clothes on the floor, he was quick to pull my legs apart again.

"Keep 'em open for me," he demanded, that damn smirk still firmly on his face. "I've got something to prove."

I giggled at that statement, but did as he asked. I was still watching his movements, until he dipped his head forehead and pressed his lips against me. That first moment of contact was enough to have my head flopping back against the pillows as my hands shot down to grip his hair. I was vaguely aware of him mumbling something about how wet I was, but my brain was too busy trying to process the pleasure he was giving me to take in his words.

He wasted no time demonstrating everything that he'd described to me earlier that night. His tongue was focused and precise in its movements and, contrary to what I read, he clearly knew what he was doing as he easily narrowed in on my clit. It wasn't enough though. I needed more pressure, more friction, and I pushed up towards him with a moan on my lips to urge him on. He wasn't having any of that as his hands looped under my thighs to settle on my hips, holding me in place, but he increased the pressure as he apparently understood what I needed despite my lack of ability to verbalize it.

I immediately felt a familiar feeling starting to build.

He sucked and licked with an urgency that I very much appreciated, flicking his tongue in just the right spot at just the right speed to have me trembling beneath him. I managed to gasp out a warning 'oh god' as my hands gripped his hair even tighter and I fell apart into a puddle of whimpers and moans. My orgasm hit me more fiercely than I'd imagined in my wildest fantasies of this moment and I arched up against him, his name pouring from my lips like a chant as he continued his efforts with a low groan of his own only adding to my pleasure.

As my breathing started to slow, Chris gently ceased his movements and moved his head back before resting his chin on my thigh. He cocked an eyebrow as he looked up at me.

"Well?"

"I'm going to write my own article," I told him, feeling that wonderful post peak bliss wash over me. "Because someone was obviously very misinformed."

Chris chuckled before pulling his hands from my hips to plant them on the bed and drag himself back over me.

"I'm glad I exceeded expectations."

"Mhmm," I hummed in agreement as his lips hovered above mine. "Now, let's see what else you can do."

Chris flashed me a smile and kissed me briefly before leaning back just enough to reach down and take his cock in his hand. Another moan fell from my lips as he rubbed it against me for a moment before nudging against my entrance and finally pressing inside. He moved slowly, but even so, I winced at the sensation. The slight burn as I stretched around him felt good but there was an undeniable ache as well. Sensing my hesitation, Chris paused and dropped his head for another soft kiss. I waited a moment, until the initial spark of discomfort had passed before pressing my hips up towards him.

He took the hint and continued his slow, almost torturous, movement until he was fully inside. The burning pain returned as it felt like he was taking up every inch of space I had to offer, but it felt incredible.

"Fuck," he breathed against my neck where his head had settled again. "You're tight..."

He shifted his hips pulling another gasp from my lips.

"Only because you're huge."

I felt a puff of laughter before he nipped at my shoulder.

"Thank you."

I would have smacked him for his cocky tone, but he moved then and suddenly my mind was blank of anything other than how good it felt. His movements were slow at first, every thrust dragging every inch of him against every nerve inside me, but his restraint quickly waned as his pace increased.

I let out a moan as my head fell back against the pillows and I hitched my leg higher on his hip. He moved his hand to the back of my thigh to hold it in place as he built a steady rhythm that had us both panting as I fought to match his thrusts. My fingers dug into his shoulders as his short beard rubbed against my skin.

The sensations were overwhelming. It was like he was completely encompassing me, smothering all of my senses and I could feel the pressure building again in the pit of my stomach in a way that it all felt like too much, but not enough all at the same time. I clenched around him, earning a groan of approval from Chris as I swore I could feel him twitch inside me. The pleasure was building quickly and his thrusts got sloppier and more frantic until suddenly he pulled out of me completely.

I felt empty and immediately wanted him back inside of me, my disappointment only growing as he pushed himself up to kneel back on his heels. The only compensation was how good he looked, muscles tight and his cock hard, practically throbbing and shiny from my being drenched in my wetness.

"Turn over," he instructed, his raspy voice bringing me back to the task at hand.

It took a moment for me to process his words, but I giggled as soon as I did.

"What?" He asked, a smile on his face.

"Nothing," I laughed again as I pushed myself up to do as he asked. "You just really are 'clearly' an ass man."

A look of realization crossed his face as he cringed slightly, his hand pausing from where he had reached down to stroke himself. I settled on my knees with my back to him as he answered.

"You heard about that?"

He was referring to the comments that he made on Anna Faris' podcast and I nodded my head.

"Everyone heard about that," I teased.

He chuckled, but didn't deny it as I leaned forward to rest on my hands. The wetness between my legs felt cool from the air in the room and I suddenly felt very exposed, knowing what the view must look like from his position. Again, my worries were brief though as his hands settled on my ass, kneading and squeezing as he let out a low groan.

"With an ass like this though, can you blame me?" He asked, sliding the fingers of one hand down towards the part of me that was practically throbbing with need. My head fell forward as he gently brushed over my clit before sinking two fingers inside me. It wasn't enough, not after the stretch of his cock, but he moved them with almost criminal precision against a spot that made me tense as I moaned with pleasure. "You've been drivin' me wild ever since that night we met. Those black jeans were so tight, it was like you were poured into 'em."

His words were muttered low and quiet and as much as I appreciated the compliment, I was such a puddle of mush from the movement of his fingers that I couldn't string together a sentence in response. He kept talking, whispering words of encouragement and adoration and it only added to my pleasure, but it wasn't until his thumb pressed against my clit that I felt myself start to bubble over. With a cry that I hoped served as a warning of my impending climax, I arched my back to press myself further towards him.

"Atta girl, Winnie..."

His breath was hot against the cheek of my ass and he continued his actions, placing a soft kiss on my skin. I was close, so close, but just not quite there until he did something that surprised me and sank his teeth into the spot his mouth was resting on. It wasn't enough to break the skin, but it was enough to leave a mark and it was definitely enough to send me over the edge. Moaning out his name again as I pressed back towards him, I felt myself quivering around his fingers as the pleasure tore through my body.

My elbows were quaking with effort as they tried to hold me up while he kept his fingers gently working until my orgasm came to an end. I wasn't sure how much more I could take, but I knew I wanted him inside me again so I shot him a look over my shoulder.

"Chris," I panted. "Fuck me, please."

His eyes darkened at my request, but he wasted no time, quickly shifting until he was positioned behind me and sliding himself back inside. He felt even bigger in our new position and his need was made clear as his hands settled on my hips to use them as leverage, thrusting into me at a much more frantic pace than he had before.

The stretch and feel of him deep inside me had me moaning and arching my back once again, but I was doubtful that I would reach another peak - until Chris slid one of his hands from my hip, over my stomach and back down to my clit. The sensation combined with his movements and all the noises pouring from his mouth had a tightness in my stomach forming again with shocking speed. It was just shy of overwhelming as my two previous orgasms had left me feeling rather sensitive already, but when Chris picked up the pace even more, his grunts and groans getting more desperate, I leaned into the sensation. It only took a minute or two more before he finally pressed himself deep inside me, stilling as he let out a low moan and I followed him over the edge once more.

After a few final thrusts through his release, Chris leaned forward to press his chest against my back. I could feel how hard he was breathing and soaked in the moment of bliss until my arms finally gave out underneath me. We landed in a heap face down on the bed, but Chris quickly rolled off of me before pulling me tight against his side.

"Wow," he breathed out. "Winnie, that was...wow."

I smiled as I rested my head on his chest.

"It was," I agreed. "I take back any doubts about your abilities."

He chuckled and placed a soft kiss on the top of my head.

"Thanks," he smiled as I peered up at him until he let a yawn slip out. "Mind if I stay here tonight?"

His question made my own smile widen even more.

"Of course not!"

He breathed out a sigh of relief at my words as I felt a wave of reassurance myself. He wanted to stay. He wasn't about to rush out the door the moment we were done and I filed that information away as more evidence that we were on the same page.

I felt like I should get up - to use the bathroom and offer my guest some water - but our activities had my whole body feeling like jelly. I was vaguely aware of a mumbled 'goodnight' from Chris, but I found myself drifting off to sleep before I could even respond.

-

The next morning as I slowly woke up, it took me a moment to remember why I was naked and why there was a pleasant, but very noticeable ache between my thighs. As the memory came back to me, a smile slid onto my face, but when I rolled over to find the bed empty, a flicker of worry sparked in the pit of my stomach. Especially when a glance at the clock told me that it was only seven in the morning. We couldn't have fallen asleep much before one so there was no good reason for him to be out of bed already.

I called out his name, hopeful that he would respond, but I wasn't entirely surprised when he didn't. The dread I was feeling intensified at the silence around me and I dragged myself out of bed with the intention of checking if he was in the bathroom or perhaps back out on the balcony. However, the sight of what was on the floor, or more accurately what wasn’t on the floor, made me pause. My dress and panties were laying where they'd been tossed, but his clothes were no where to be seen.

Trying to keep a level head, I quickly pulled on the oversized shirt that I usually slept in and ventured out of my bedroom, but my fears were quickly confirmed. My apartment was empty.

At first, I gave him the benefit of the doubt as I desperately tried to rationalize his disappearance. Maybe he woke up early and went out to get us breakfast and coffee? The dull throbbing in my head told me that I could certainly use a good shot of caffeine and it was a pretty safe bet that he was feeling the same. But, when he didn't return after half an hour, I assumed that theory was just an optimistic wish.

After forty-five minutes of sitting on my couch, watching the door - willing it to open and for Chris to appear - I sent him a text. I tried to keep it low key and chill, but after another hour of staring at my phone, the words "Hey, where'd you go?" started to seem more and more desperate.

By ten o'clock with no response and no sign of Chris returning, I accepted the situation for what it was.

He wasn't coming back.

It was a drunken mistake that he clearly regretted.

We'd risked our entire relationship for one night of wonderful, incredible, but meaningless sex and he didn't even have the guts to stick around long enough to talk to me about it.

One stupid night and I'd lost one of my best friends.

The thought brought tears to my eyes and, before I could stop myself, I was blubbering like a baby as I curled up on my couch. I was devastated and heartbroken. I'd let myself believe that maybe he wanted me the same way that I wanted him because we were so close and I never would have imagined that he would let it go that far just to ditch me in the morning without even a goodbye. Surely, after a year of such strong friendship, I deserved more than that.

But no matter how stupid and naive I felt in that moment, nothing would compare to the level of utter foolishness I felt later that day when I was tiding up and realized that there wasn't a condom in sight.

-

Part Two

Tags:  @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces

[ink-on-the-brink]

Okay yes sorry for like putting in another but my goodness you’re great!! I hope it’s okay if I ask another but like, what would happen if the guys of your choice saw their partner hurt? Platonic or romantic up to you (:

No problem at all! Ideas are always welcome. Especially since I've had a bit of time on my hands! (aka I'm procrastinating on my other stories but shh)

Anyway! Here's Engie, Scout, and Soldier when their S/O is hurt because I put names onto a wheel and they popped up so yeah.

These are gonna be general headcannons that can be taken as either romatic or platonic.

Engie

If Hurt By Your Own Stupidity

Chances are you were messing around with a machine he told you not to touch.

If it's a small injury he'll scold you, telling you to listen to him next time. He won't help you. You have to learn your lesson somehow and if that means you have to drag your way to Medic, embarrassing yourself in the process, then so be it.

If it's a rather big injury he'll be rightfully angry. He's picking you up and carrying you to Medic with a string of mumbled curses at how stupid you had been and that you're lucky he was watching otherwise you might be dead. Even though he's angry you can still see the very clear concern on his face. Once you're all fixed up he's not letting you into his workshop for a while and becomes rather paranoid every time you have to.

He just doesn't want to see you hurt over a machine he built. He would probably never forgive himself if that's the way you ended up dying.

If Hurt By Something Else

Probably while helping him. Grabbing tools, maybe fixing up some wires if you're experienced enough.

Small injuries happen all the time. I mean you're messing around with electric wires and sharp objects here, it isn't exactly the safest thing. He always has an extra medkit in the room and won't hesitate to help you with a small cut or electric burn.

Larger injuries are an entirely different story. He goes blank, immediately carrying you to Medic. He won't leave until he knows you're 100% fine and afterward he'll be deathly quiet. You can see rather clearly that he blamed himself for you getting hurt and that he wasn't about to just forgive himself for it. Afterward he has a hard time letting you help again and finds excuses for you to do something else.

It might just be better if you stick to smaller ways of helping, not just for your own sake, but his.

If Hurt In Battle

If he sees it happen he knows it's better to ignore it. That's what happens in battle and at least during battle you guys have respawn. He'll most likely move his dispenser to where you are to help you out as best he can. He likely won't think twice about what happened...

That is unless whoever hurt you did so in a rather cruel way, enjoying seeing you in pain rather than working to complete an objective.

If that happens the person who harmed you becomes his main target. He won't compromise the battle with the urgency to kill them but it's pretty obvious that given the choice between them and killing anyone else, he'll choose them.

If he were to get close enough, and no one else is around, he'd hurt them and then just kinda sit there, letting them be in pain a moment while he maybe sets up one of his machines. If caught doing this he has about a hundred likely excuses. It was a Spy and he didn't want to deal with his dead ringer, he thought they were dead, another person came along that he had to deal with, pretty much never getting caught for doing it. Basically one of the only things that keeps him calm when he sees you hurt is the thought that he's going to make them suffer later.

Engie's a calm man but that doesn't mean he doesn't know how to dish out revenge or hold grudges.

If Hurt By Someone On The Team

Ooooh boy, this isn't going to end well.

It was most likely not meant to be you who got hurt. Being Engies right hand(or left hand rather)meant you always helped him to de-escalate fights. Which meant you were probably only hurt in the crossfire.

That, however, does not stop the anger flowing through Engies veins.

A small thing is enough to get him angry. He rarely yells but in that case he will, silencing everyone immediately before going on an absolute tirade about how stupid they were all being. At this point people would be shocked enough to stop, meaning the goal was achieved but not without some sacrifice.

If you get really harmed though...

Engie's a calm man but he has limits. That just so happens to be one of them. He won't even stop the fight. He's immediately taking you to get fixed up. It's afterward that the consequences come.

He will talk to whoever was involved alone. No one's sure what happens but no matter who ends up seeing that side of Engie they always come out a bit shaken up and not willing to talk about it, though seemingly unharmed.

It's likely to never happen but if it does everyone will become just a little bit more cautious when around him or you.

Scout

If Hurt By Your Own Stupidity

You were trying to toss a baseball as high as you could into the air and catch it to try and impress him.

If it only managed to hit just a little bit of sense into you, aka your throw is weak, then he'll most definitely laugh, telling you to leave it up to the professionals.

If you managed to knock yourself out because your toss was godly but your catch was dogshit then he'd burst out laughing for a good five minutes. It's only after his laughing fit that he thought to help you. You'd have to give him a matching bump to keep his mouth shut about it.

If Hurt By Something Else

You two were probably setting up a prank and something went wrong along the way.

If only a little hurt he'd hold in a laugh and ask if you were alright, to which you'd glare at his hidden grin and say you were fine.

If you were actually hurt he'd go into a bit of a panic, quickly bringing you to Medic. The two of you most defiantly had to lie to get away with what you two had been doing. Unfortunately you were both really bad liars. Medic wasn't convinced but he also didn't care, thankfully.

You'd often bring up how scared he looked when you got hurt every time he tried to act like he didn't care about you that much. It never failed to get his tongue stumbling.

If Hurt In Battle

He's not one to care about a few bumps and scratches. He'll likely tell you to try to be as tough as him(he saids as he calls for medic over a splinter). He sees his job more as a game then a battle so it's rare he holds a grudge against anyone. He's maybe a bit more competitive from that point foward but not obsessively so.

Larger injuries and he's quick (litteraly) to dive into the heat of battle to help. More than often he ends up dead beside you but when he does manage to save you he's super macho about it. He'll say stuff about how much you needed him and how you'd never survive a day without him Even though most of the times you're the one pulling him out of those situations...

Just let him have his moment.

If Hurt By Someone On The Team

It was most definitely because you had annoyed someone, most likely Soldier or Heavy. This happens quite often.

If it looks like you're winning the fight he'll cheer you on. No need for him to get involved if you've got it handled.

If something really starts to go down though, he's on your side. There isn't a time where only one of you was beaten to shit, it always had to be the both of you.

Soldier

If Hurt By Your Own Stupidity

You were trying to rocket jump.

Literally just...Why did you think you could do that?

A small injury and Soldier won't even acknowledge it. Be that a bloody nose or a sprained ankle he's going to act as if you were perfectly fine, mostly because he seldom felt pain anymore and he had a hard time trying to recognize it in other people.

If severely hurt he's most likely going to explain to you everything you did wrong and you'll have to either scream for Medic or wait until he carries you there after his lecture.

You do dumb shit you deal with the consequences.

If Hurt By Something Else

Likely a sparring match that got out of hand or possibly a malfunction of a rather precariosly built weapon.

A small injury and he isn't going to care. If you make a big deal out of it he'll tell you to 'man up' and deal with it though it's more so in good fun rather than antagonism.

A large injury though and he's quick to help. He's calling for Medic and asking you to count how many fingers he's holding up. You'll say three, he'll begin to panic, saying that you must have broken your eyes.

He was, in fact, holding up three fingers...

Just don't question it

If Hurt In Battle

Small injuries are victories to him. If you're not at least a little banged up then are you really in a war?

If you for some reason can't walk though he's the first person at your side. Doesn't matter how many bullets he takes as long as you're brought to safety. He'll say something to the effect of 'don't die on me soldier! No, I am not talking to myself!'

After you're taken care of it's revenge time. He's gonna rack up a killing streak, your injury giving him the last bit of encouragement to win the round most of the time.

If Hurt By Someone On The Team

Defending honor! Whether it's yours or his, you are there to defend it and if that means getting a bit rough in the process then so be it.

If you're less injured than whoever you're fighting then, like Scout, He's cheering you on with probably a few insults to the other person as well.

If it looks more like you're losing he's still not going to intervene. He believes in you! You've got this!

If you end up knocked out though he's going to beat the shit out of whoever it was that defeated you. For your honor! (And because he just likes a reason to beat people up)

[thewritetofreespeech]

Words: 3800+

Rating: M

Pairing: Benimaru (TSSK) x Reader

Summary:  Rimuru-sama had told Benimaru about a tradition from his world called a 'honeymoon'. He thought it was a great idea.

AO3

It had been several months since the night you and Benimaru had become true husband & wife.

After the envoy left, you talked more about things. As expected, there were still a bit of growing pains in forming your relationship from what it once was into what it was now. However, you were making it work.

Benimaru was patient and kind as ever, but unexpectedly different when you were alone together. You hadn’t thought he would be like this. You had only seen him in a ‘formal’ capacity most times, the job of the Commander in Chief of the Jura forces was one that never really rested, or appropriately close when with the rest of your friends. Now though, you got to see another side of him.

He was funny. Playful. Once he let his guard down, he wasn’t nearly as intimidating as you’d originally thought. Actually, he could be quite goofy. His devotion was not only to Rimuru-sama and your people, but also devoted to you. He was always asking how your day was and if things were alright. Making sure you were provided for. Passionate.

You blush as you put away the linens you had folded up from outside. Benimaru had apparently not been kidding when he declared he’d claim your body everyday if he had to to prove it was his. Not that he needed to prove it. You had openly and willingly accepted yourself as his, and he yours. Still, almost every night, he came to you when you laid in bed together to physically profess his love. The man seemed insatiable. Though you weren’t exactly complaining.

You look up from your chores as the devil himself appeared. Coming through the door as if your thoughts had conjured him.

“Benimaru-kun! You’re back early. Did the meeting go well?” The kijin nodded as he removed his sword and sat it in it’s usually place next to the door. “I’m glad to hear it. I didn’t expect you home so soon, so I haven’t started dinner. I’ll get started now, but it will be a little bit.”

“In a moment [Y/N]. I need to talk to you.”

You pause on your way out the door and back track back over to the table to sit across from your husband. “Rimuru-sama has asked me to go on an ambassador mission in the mountains. To seek an alliance with the Yuki-Oni there.” You blink a little in surprise at the news. Though you were sure Benimaru could handle this, and seemed very pleased at being selected by your lord, you have to wonder about the forethought he put into it. Sending a fire oni to speak with a village of snow oni seemed uncharacteristically irresponsible of your lord.

“Well, I’m happy for you dear. I’m sure your trip will be successful.” Benimaru seemed to beam brighter at being complimented by you. “So I’ll see you in, what, a few days?”

“Actually, I was hoping you would come with me.” You were taken by surprise again. Had Rimuru-sama asked you to come? “I asked Rimuru-sama about it, and he said he could spare you for the few days.” Benimaru added, as if reading your mind. “It would be a nice chance for you to see places outside of Rimuru City. And Rimuru-sama told me about a tradition in his former world called a ‘honeymoon’. It’s when two newly wedded people go on a trip together shortly after their married to spend time together.”

“But, Benimaru, we’ve been married for more than a short while now?” True, your real married life had only begun a few months ago, but you had been married for over a year now.

“I know. But we didn’t go on one or do anything when we got married. I thought it would be nice.” The usually proud warrior looked down at the hardwood of your table, blushing and rubbing the back of his head in a shy manner. “Plus, I don’t want to go if I have to leave you here. I was serious when I said I never want to be without you by my side.” A declaration he had also made more than once since that night. “I’ll…be lonely without you.”

You put your hand against your mouth, pretending to be in thought. In reality you were trying to hide the goofy grin spreading across your face. How could someone so fierce and intimidating also be so adorable?

“Ok, I’ll go with you.” You finally announce, as if you had thought it over and come to a decision. “It would be nice to see the world a little. And, if Rimuru-sama can spare both of us, I see no reason not to go.”

The red head beamed ecstatically at your reply, then leaned over the table to give you a peck on the cheek. “Excellent! I’ll let Rimuru-sama know and tell Shuna to finish making your cold weather wardrobe!”

“Shuna? Hey wait.” Benimaru stopped in the doorway. “You asked Shuna to make me a cold weather wardrobe before you even asked me? What if I had said no?”

The oni looked at you like the thought had never crossed his mind. Then he grinned again and said ‘well, it all worked out’ in a rush before he left again. Alone, you shook your head. Honestly. What was your husband thinking sometimes?

*****

It took some time to get the preparations set, but soon enough you were ready to travel to the mountains to visit the Yuki-Oni.

“Safe travels, onee-san!” Shuna told you in parting with her usual bright smile.

She had called you that before, but in recent months it sounded more like she meant it. Thinking of you more now as a true ‘big sister’, married to her brother, than an older woman she could depend and rely on. The former was still true, but it was clear in her tone she thought of you more as family.

You depart Rimuru City with everyone’s blessing. Coming to see you off until you were out in the country side and off on your journey.

It took a few days to make it to the Yuki-Oni village. Between the distance and intentionally treacherous path up the mountain, it had taken a bit of time. It hadn’t been all bad. While still down in the valley you had stopped for a picnic once or twice, and laid in a field of flowers you had come upon for a bit to soak up the sun and sweet smell. Benimaru said that this was one of the things that Rimuru-sama told him people did on their ‘honeymoon’. You weren’t sure about that, but it was a much-needed respite from your travels.

Arriving at the village, you were greeted warmly by the ice monsters. They all seemed very demure and polite. A cool sort of air about them that really fit with the cold aesthetic of their homeland. The men were all tall and hard looking, while the women were all beautiful and waif like. Pale alabaster skin, long white hair, piercing blue eyes. You were glad you came with Benimaru now. Not that you thought for a moment he would be unfaithful to you, but you still didn’t like the idea of those beautiful creatures lingering around him.

You were shown to your quarters in the elder’s home before you were to meet with the council of elders. The idea of having to convince a council concerned you. It was harder to persuade a group than one. And the Yuki-jiji all looked like they were a group of men not to be easily swayed. “Maybe I should stay here?” You question as you unpacked your things.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t think the Yuki-jiji appreciate women in their council meeting.” They didn’t even let their own women in. Let alone a human one. The last thing you wanted to do was insult these people, and their traditions, by forcing yourself in to the situation. “It might be best if you just go.”

“Ridiculous.” Benimaru said with a sneer. “We didn’t come all this way for you to sit in a room and be cast out.”

“I thought we came for our ‘honeymoon’?” You said as a joke. Trying to break this awkward tension.

“We came for two things.” He quipped back at you. “I want you to come with me. I want us to go together. I’m…not good at this sort of thing on my own. Rimuru-sama put his faith in me, and I’m grateful for this opportunity, but I think it’s misplaced. I’m much better at forcing an agreement at sword point, not conversation.” The kijin looked away, clearly irritated at himself for not being better at it no matter how hard he tried, before looking back at you. “If you’re there though, you’ll keep me grounded. I find your presence calming. So I’ll be less likely to make a fool of myself.”

“You won’t make a fool of yourself, whether I’m there or not.” You assure him while placing your hand against his cheek. It hurt your heart to hear him berate himself like this. Rimuru-sama picked him because he was more than just a strong arm at the end of a sword. Why couldn’t he see that? “Alright. I’ll go. I don’t know if it will really help but I’ll try to be supportive. To you and our cause.”

Benimaru smiled. Then tilted his hand to kiss your palm before squeezing it in his hand. “Let’s go then.”

*********

The meeting lasted most of the day, and well into the evening. By the time you both return to your provided quarters, you were both exhausted.

“Rimuru-sama will be happy to hear of our success.”

“I’m sure he will be. Jura seems to be growing by leaps and bounds.” Who would have thought?

“It’s all thanks to you.” Benimaru said as he came up to sit on your right.

“Me?” You remark in surprise. “I didn’t do much of anything?”

“That’s not true.” The oni said with a soft smile, shaking his head. “The way you talk to people. The way you talk about our home, and the virtue it brings. Not just it’s strength. How it’s a place for all. They could see that’s something they want to be apart of. Rimuru-sama was very wise to have you come along. As he always is.”

Your cheeks tint at Benimaru’s words. Such high praise something you never seemed to get used to. No matter how much he or the others lavished you with it, you always felt so awkward to be complimented by people.

“So, the evening is ours now. What shall we do?”

“Well, I was going to take a bath, buuut….” You look over at the provided tub. Not looking warm & inviting like a bath should, but cold & dark like a vat of despair. “I guess the Yuki-Oni aren’t a fan of hot baths.”

“I can heat it up for you.” Benimaru declared. Already activating his powers to do so. “A thing like this is not so hard. I’ll have it warmed up for you in a moment.”

“That’s amazing Benimaru!” You gush at your husband’s resourcefulness. Who knew he could be so handy?

The oni grinned wide. Briming with pride at the praise. He went over to the tub and slipped his hand into it. The water almost instantly steaming at the contact. “There! That should do it.”

“Ahhh…warm bath…” You sigh happily. Moved nearly to the point of tears at the idea of being warm for the first time since you got here.

You move to discretely remove your clothes and get in the bath, when you notice movement out of the corner of your eye from Benimaru. The man not moving to leave as you’d anticipated, but undress as well. “What are you doing?”

The red head stopped in removing his undercoat and looked at your curiously. “Taking a bath?” The expression on his face saying ‘didn’t we just have this conversation’.

“Wait a minute! This is my bath! Did you really heat this up to steal my bath from me??”

“What? No! Of course not! I thought we could share.” He looked back to the tub, completely missing the blush and sudden halt in all function from you, as he examined it. “It’s big enough.”

“I don’t think it’s appropriate to do that here.” You reply nervously. Cheeks still pink as you had a pretty good idea where this would lead.

“Come on. It’s just a bath.” Bemimaru insisted. “Besides, my powers for this work best when I’m in close proximity. If I’m not touching it, the water will just grow cold again.”

You have the sinking suspicion that he was lying to you. But it was a very convincing lie, and one you couldn’t really argue with. “Alright. But behave! We’re here as Rimuru-sama’s ambassadors. We shouldn’t be fooling around while guests in another person’s home.” A person whom you were trying to sway to your cause.

The red head nodded and assured you he meant no funny business. Again, you had the sinking suspicion he was lying to you, but couldn’t actually prove it, so you went along. You both stripped down and get in the tub. The only way you would both fit was if you practically sat in Benimaru’s lap. His back resting against the side of the tub while your back rested against his chest.

“Aaaahhh…” Your ‘chair’ sighed loudly. Feeling his sigh vibrate through your back as he relaxed. “This is great. We should have done this sooner.”

“Agreed.” You reply as you relax too against him. The warm water soaking out all the tired muscles from your journey and tension you had felt before the meeting. Making you complacent.

You both stay like that for a little while. Relaxing in the warm water in complete silence. Until you feel Benimaru’s hand brush against your arm. “What are you doing?” You asked in a drowsy, but mildly suspicious, tone.

“I was going to wash your back for you.” He replied against your ear. Making you shiver. “Can you lean forward for me?”

That nagging suspicion of his intent still clung to the back of your mind, but it was getting pushed further and further back by the warm water and his soft words. Having your back washed did sound nice.

The water slouched around a little as you moved to sit up and lean over the other side of the tub. “Is this ok?” You ask. Looking back over your shoulder from where you had cradled your head in your arms on the rim.

“Yeah….” Benimaru replied in a low voice. Looking at you. “That’s perfect.”

Your husband shifted around carefully, both to not hit you or splash the water out of the tub, as he came up on his knees behind you. The soft, wet sponge touched your back tentatively at first. But once you relaxed and even let out a soft sigh it became more diligent. His hands pressing a little harder with the sponge to give you a dual back wash & massage. It was extremely pleasant. The warm water and his warm hands on your body. So much so that you might moan a little when he came to your lower back.

“Ah…don’t do that to me…” Benimaru said. His voice sounding odd. Pained. It sounded so strange that you opened your eyes a little. You hadn’t realized you closed them. “I’m trying to be good and honorable. But if you moan like that, it gets very hard.” You’re not sure if he meant ‘it’ by the situation in question or the erection you were now feeling brush against your leg. When had that gotten there? You gasp at the feel of him against your thigh, but also the sponge and his hand shifting to your front; just at the top of your breast. “Please [Y/N]. Let me be with you. I can’t stand being without you anymore. It’s been so long.” You want to tell him that it’s only been a few days. But apparently, in ogre time, that was an eternity. He genuinely sounded like he was in agony right now. Not to mention that his hands wouldn’t stop touching you.

You’ll blame the warm water, and being so relaxed, and his damned skillful hands later, but your resolve broke quite easily. “Yes. Yes, I want you too Benimaru.”

You think you hear a happy rush of air level his lips before he moved forward and enveloped you. His broad chest encasing your back as he laid against it. His hands dropping the sponge to make direct, intentional touches with your body. His cock slipping between your legs to brush against your apex in pseudo-love making. You both moan.

He rutted against you like that for a moment. Thrusting against the outside of your opening. The hard lines of his cock brushing against the bundle of nerves at the top, making your insides quake and spasm greedily around nothing. “B-Benimaru….” You whine as you pressed back against him. His torturous touch driving you mad. “Please.”

Your husband groaned a little, low in his throat, before he kissed his mark behind your ear, where he had bitten you that first time, before lifting off to enter you. Being relaxed and the warm water made it easy, but he was as gentle as ever with putting it inside you. There was still a slight stretch with his size, but it’s a feeling you grown not only accustom to but relish. Just having him inside you made you moan wantonly.

“Ah…I keep telling you. Don’t do that to me.” Benimaru replied to your moan. You couldn’t see it with him behind you, but you could hear the hint of a smile in his voice. He pulled back and began to thrust, low and slow, into you. “I can’t control myself when you moan like that for me. How am I supposed to keep calm, and quiet, when you make my blood boil like that?”

“I’m…sorry…” You stutter out. Your voice staggered from his deep thrusts and your own labored breath of pleasure. “It just….feels…so good…..!” You moan again when his thrust went deeper this time. Hitting that place inside you that made you see stars.

He couldn’t control himself? What did he expect you to do when he was making love to you like this?

If anything, this was his fault

“Hmmm…this is no good…” You let out a surprised noise as Benimaru pulled out. You look over your shoulder. A little wounded at the comment. Not good? But before you could ask, or get more upset about the comment, Benimaru turned you around so you were facing him. Thrusting back into you in one swift move of your back hitting the tub and knocking all words out of your mouth. “I wanna see your face. It’s no good if I can’t see you and kiss you any time I want.” Then he did just that.

His tongue thrust into your mouth like his cock into your lower half. Swallowing your moans now that were flowing out unabashed. Doing it the other way had been nice, but you have to agree. This way was much better. Being able to kiss him. See his amazing body. Look into his beautiful eyes burning with such passion & love for you was bringing you closer to the edge than ever before.

“B-Beniamru! I…I’m close!”

“Me too.” The oni grunted out. Kissing your ear when you wrap your arms around his neck. “Cum for me my love. Let’s go together.” He always seemed to have a way with words with you, because you did as you were told and came around his cock.

His thrusts continue for a few moments longer, pounding through your orgasm, before they stop and Benimaru shuttered in your arms. A sign that he had finished too. You stay there for a moment. Holding each other loosely in the tub, before the kijin pulled back and looked around you like he just remembered where you were.

“I think we fucked all the water out of the tub.”

Your mouth scrunched up and you pinched Benimaru’s shoulder. “Don’t be vulgar.” He was right though. Now that your brain had resumed function again, you could see that half the water in the tub was gone. The floor soaking wet to the point you had to groan. No way you were going to be able to clean this up or explain this away without attracting attention.

The oni yipped at your pinch before he chuckled, then kissed you softly. He then stood from the tub, wet and naked and proud, before lifting you up out of it as well like a princess and carrying you over to the bed.

“We’ll clean it up later.” He stated, seeming to read your mind once again, as he laid you on the soft futon. “It’ll be alright.

“I still can’t believe you talked me into it.” You grumble. Pretending that you had been seduced, rather than whole heartedly accepting your husband in all aspects, as you dried yourself off. “What will the Yuki-Oni think.”

“That we are too people in love.” He replied quickly and with a smile. “The elders are all men. I’m sure they remember what it’s like to be young and in love, and unable to keep your hands off their young, beautiful wife.”

You blush a little at his words, but don’t really want to think about those old men being happy with their wives. “I suppose it’s a natural thing, but it’s still very rude to have sex in someone else’s house.”

“Maybe for humans. But we oni don’t see it that way.” Benimaru replied. Tossing his towel away. “Besides, Rimuru-sama said that this is something that most newlyweds do on their honeymoon.”

You shook your head as he pulled back the covers to let you both get under them. The room growing cold again now that you weren’t in the warm water, or doing other warm, pleasurable activities.

You snuggle together under the blankets. Watching the fresh snow flutter down outside the window. “Did you really need to be touching the water for your powers to work?” You finally ask.

You don’t know what his answer was going to be. But judging by the way your husband stiffened and balked at the question, you know now that he had been lying to you. “Well….it does work best that way. In theory. But….no….”

He turned away to not look at you. Or the steely stare you leveled at him. “Benimaru. I can’t believe you lied to me.” Sweat drops seemed to start pooling at his forehead as in flinched at your harsh words. Then he let out a startled sound as you flipped over on top of him, forcing him to look up at you with a confused expression. “You’ll have to be punished.”

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Home (Four Times Crowley was Lovesick - and Aziraphale Took Care of Him)

Written for @do-it-with-style-events "Who Needs A Great Plan" event, Day 1, prompt "Four"

--

Crawly stood beneath the white wing, watching the rain fall, watching the humans walk away, watching anything but the angel beside him, his smile, the way he furrowed his brow and pouted.

His heart kept doing a funny skipping thing every time he looked that way, which was odd, and made him think he’d gotten some sort of defective body, or possibly that he’d messed something up in the transition from the serpent form.

“You know, I do think this rain might not be as pleasant as I’d hoped,” the angel said, tipping his head back so sopping white curls dangled, dripping onto his robe. “I’m starting to feel a bit cold, are you?”

“Nah. M’adem’n,” Crawly muttered, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

“Well. I suppose we all have our aptitudes.” He reached down to squeeze the rainwater from his sleeve. “I suppose you carry the fires of Hell within you, or something?”

“S’nice.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the angel turn to smile at him and now his heart was doing some sort of backflip, and his stomach attempting to dance. “G-g-gotta keep’m somewhere.”

“I see. I do find myself missing my sword, but I think…” his lips pursed. “I think it’s in the right hands.”

How could he forget the angel had given away his sword.Fucking brilliant.

Crawly sniffed, and the cold seemed to creep into his nose. “M-must’a b’n-n-nice t’have a-a-achoo!”

His body must be worse than he’d thought. His entire face seemed to have exploded.

“Good lord, what was that?” The angel shuffled closer, peering at him, reaching up to poke at Crawly’s nose. “Is this supposed to make that sort of noise?”

The demon braced himself, expecting pain, expecting a reprimand, expecting anything but a soft finger gently massaging the bridge of his nose, pressing lightly as if he might break.

“S’only a-achoo!” Not again. “Achoo! A-CHOO!”

“This sounds serious!” The angel now stood so close that his arm pressed against Crawly’s. “Oh! And your hand!” He snatched it up, gently tracing his fingers across the demon’s palm. “It’s cold! Have your fires gone out?”

“Nnnnnnnnnh. S’th’cold,” he confessed. “S’getting in m’nose.”

“Well, that will not do.” Being careful to keep his wing in place, the angel looped his arms around Crawly’s waist, drawing him into an unexpected softness, a steady warmth. “There. Is this better?”

“Mrgl.” Crawly didn’t look over, even as the angel leaned against him. He shifted his am, putting it around the angel’s shoulders, rubbed his forearm as he rubbed Crawly’s side, but the demon did not look.

It was safer that way.

--

“Then you hold the oyster like this, and—” Aziraphale slurped it out of the shell.

“Ngk.” Crowley swirled his wine, glaring into the cup. “I…maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.”

“Nonsense! Trying new foods is one of the delights of the world.”

“Yeah, but…I prefer foods that don’t smell so bad.”

That made Aziraphale laugh, which made things harder. It seemed to echo in Crowley’s chest, send his heart into answering flutters. He shifted on the couch, but there was only so far he could roll before it was impossible to drink. Which meant he had to keep looking across the table, at Aziraphale’s couch, where he reclined in a rolling curve of soft white toga and ate his oysters and wouldn’t stop smiling.

“Crowley? Are you feeling quite well?”

“Nrgh. Yeah. Why?”

“Because I asked four times how your wine is and you never responded.”

“Oh.” He couldn’t remember, so he drank a mouthful, then immediately spat it out. Salt water and vinegar, same as any Roman wine. “Lousy.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” And all at once, the angel rolled off his couch and now he was crossing the room and oh Satan, he was on Crowley’s.

This was a disaster.

Aziraphale leaned down and rested a hand on Crowley’s forehead. “You do feel extremely warm. Are you ill? I’m not sure a demon can get ill but—”

“Yes! Yes. That.” He tried to sit up. “Very, very ill. I should go. I should go now—”

“But—”

Crowley managed to get his feet under him, and his robe under his feet, and he collapsed again, falling onto something softer than the couch Oh Satan it was Aziraphale’s lap.

“Crowley!” His head turned instinctively and shit, those eyes were so close.

His heart was going to explode, but it was worth it.

“I should…take you home…”

“Ahhhhhhhh,” Crowley managed. Yes. Please. Please, wherever you call home, that’s where I want to be.

“Yes. Right. Immediately. Tell me where you’re staying, and I will escort you back.”

“My…my…oh.” His stomach was doing something new, twisting around itself. Like when he saw the Hellhounds getting ready for a walk, but worse. “M’a’th’p’liss.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m! At! Th—thepalace.” Great. Now he was either shouting or mumbling. Why couldn’t he think?

“Good. Right. Palace.” He slid his arm behind Crowley, supporting him. “Do you think you can walk?”

The demon’s legs had never shaken like this before. “Definitely not.”

“That’s alright.” And Aziraphale scooped him up into his arms, as easily as if Crowley were a child. “I’ll help you.”

--

Crowley hadn’t slept in over a month.

He shouldn’t have needed to. Demons didn’t sleep. But he’d gotten used to it, most nights, and now his task consumed him day and night, driving him to ever more complex plans, ever more desperate measures.

But finally…finally…he’d gotten a bloody crowd to see that gloomy talk-y play.

And just in time. Aziraphale had sent word that he was returning tonight, and he was supposed to meet Crowley here, outside the inn. The demon had rooms above, which had been used for scheming and planning and plotting and not, for a long time, sleeping.

He was fine, though. Running on pure adrenaline, yeah, but that just made life good. He couldn’t wait to swagger into that theater, spread his arms and show the angel—

“Ah, Crowley! There you are, my good fellow.”

He turned his head and fuck, there went his knees. Aziraphale was smiling at him like he was actually glad to see Crowley, and his entire body just stopped obeying any commands or even regular rules of biology. He staggered, legs feeling watery, his head spun, lights brighter than stars flashing before his eyes, and his heart just ached to reach out.

“Crowley? Is something the matter?”

“Mnothang.” Brilliant. He slumped against the wall of the inn, trying to get some sense of reality back. “M’a little tired’s’all.”

“Tired? Are you sure?” Aziraphale rushed forward, cupping Crowley’s face in his hand. “You feel…clammy. I need—can you take your glasses off? I need to see your eyes.”

“Szfiiiine.” But he pulled them off, and found himself again pierced by eyes glowing just a bit too blue to be allowed.

“No, no your eyes are glassy. And—and look, your pulse is racing.”Now came the concerned look, oh Satan, no one else ever looked at Crowley like that. “This…this looks a great deal like the latest plague, I saw several villages struck by it coming back.”

“Angelllll. M’ademon. We don’ get th’plague.” Why could he not just speak normally?

“Nonsense, you know perfectly well you’ve always had a strange constitution, getting sick far too often. You still have rooms here, yes? Upstairs. To bed.”

Will you come with me? The angel’s hand hadn’t moved from Crowley’s cheek, and he never wanted to be away from that touch again. “But…”

“No buts.” The hand did fall away, but only to grip his shoulder, spin Crowley around and propel him forward, through the door, and up the stairs.

Aziraphale walked past the mess in his room, the papers, notes, maps, disguises, and everything else needed to convince a city it actually liked that blasted play. He steered Crowley directly to the bed, and pushed him down onto it. “There. Stay put, please.”

“Nnnnh.” It wasn’t the most comfortable place he’d ever lain, but the rough straw mattress seemed luxurious just now. Something tugged at his foot, and he looked up to find Aziraphale, carefully pulling his shoes off. “Still here?”

“What are you talking about? Where else would I be?” He sounded cross.

“The play.”

“Play? Play? Oh, yes, Hamlet.” He tossed the shoes aside and settled Crowley’s leg back onto the bed. “I’m sure I’ll have plenty of opportunities. I hear they’re planning to run it twice as long as they’d expected.”

Of course they were, Crowley was good at his job. But there was no point if Aziraphale didn’t see the crowd. “Gotta go,” he insisted, though his body was already curling up on itself, preparing for a long sleep.

“Absolutely not.” A rustle, and when Crowley’s eye cracked open again, Aziraphale was seated on the edge of the bed, taking Crowley’s hand in his. “I need to make sure you’re alright.”

“Hnnngh.” But he was far too exhausted to argue. “Why’r’ya’lways…fussing…like y’r worried…”

He didn’t hear Aziraphale’s answer, but in his dream the angel said, “Of course I worry. Whatever would I do without you?”

--

“All them angels,” Crowley shouted, bottle in hand, “an’specially Gabriel, can go! To! Helllllllll!”

“Really? And what about the demons already there?”

“Thas’th brilliant part.” He staggered a little, grinning at Aziraphale. Their celebration at the Ritz had gotten a little out of hand, but in a good way. A way they bloody well deserved. “Th’demons. They go to Heaven. But. But. Buuuuuuut.” He took a long drink, then offered the bottle to the angel, who shook his head. “Wha’was I…ri’ri’righ’—go to Heaven. But. Don’ tell’em th’passwords. For anyfing.”

“Won’t they just figure them out?”

“Nnnnnnnnope! Cuz allll the brains in Hell are right here!” He shouted in the general direction of the office building. “Have fun puttin’…Hastur’n charg’a…stuff…” He tried for another drink, but the wine had all gone. “Awwww.”

“Don’t worry, my dear, we’re nearly home.”

“Ya. S’good.” Home was good. Plants. Television. More wine. The bed. Hadn’t slept all week.

Why was Aziraphale coming with him? Hadn’t the shop un-burned down? Had he left something at Crowley’s flat? A…spare bowtie?

Also: why did Mayfair look suspiciously like Soho?

The penny dropped at about the time Aziraphale got the shop door unlocked. “Thizzisn’ home,” he pointed out.

“Well-spotted. Come on, then.”

Shrugging, Crowley followed. There’d be more wine here, at least, and a sofa to sleep on. Not the most comfortable, but he was tired enough.

Something was different. Crowley squinted at a pile of books, but they remained stubbornly bookish. Ah, well. Sofa.

He slumped on it, waiting for Aziraphale to head to the back room for some wine, or settle into his armchair. Maybe pick up a book to read while Crowley rambled.

Instead, the angel sat beside him.

“Annngiraphel…”

“Crowley. Are you sure you’re feeling well?”

“Course. I’m cebretory. Cerebrorrry. Celebatory. ‘M partying.”

“Yes, I know. But…I just…” Oh, Someone. The concerned, furrowed brow. The pouting lips. The eyes. So much worse than the smile. Good thing Crowley was already sitting, because the room was starting to spin, even before Aziraphale picked up his hand. “I wish you would take care of yourself.”

“Wha? I do. Allllays do. No one else’z gonna do’t. Not’n Hell. Wily demon, righ’?” He tried to smile, even as his heart and stomach started switching places.

“Then why are you always unwell? I’ve lost count of…of how many times I’ve seen you falling over, unable to speak, too hot or too cold.”

“Ssssss’not like that.”

“Yes it is! And…and it was bad enough before. Crowley, we…we’re all we have left. Each other. And…and whatever it is that…that gets you into this condition…alcohol, or illness, or…whatever else. I wish you would avoid it.”

“Can’t.”

“Crowley—” Aziraphale pulled his hand closer, eyes pleading, and for a moment the demon thought he’d just discorporate on the spot. Probably would have if he’d been sober.

“Can’t. S’only one thing tha’makes me…fall orer mysel’. Makes me…can’t speak. S’only evrrr been one.”

Aziraphale’s face was so soft. Crowley couldn’t figure out how his hand had gotten there, pressed to his cheek, but it was good.

Or not. Angel’s eyes went wide. Probably did something wrong. Crowley pulled his hand back, wondering if he’d be kicked out.

“Can you…sober up, dear?”

“Nnnnnnnnnnnnidonwanna.” He wrinkled his nose. Shoulda stopped three bottles ago.

“Yes, I know. But you’ll likely have a hangover either way, and you might as well have it now. And…I want to finish this conversation sober.” Oh, the sad eyes, the serious face.

“Awwwwwtha’s no’fair. S’not like I c’n say no.”

“I…yes, you can. It is your choice.”

“Nnnh. Can’t say no’ta’you.” He looked around for something, maybe a garbage bin or…oh, yes, a planter. Lucky tree was about to get some very expensive alcohol.

He concentrated, pulling all the alcohol out of his body, filling one planter, then another, then another. As the light-headedness faded, the headache came in, pounding and pulsing.

“Glarghl.” Crowley pressed a hand to his eye. “See? Sober. Happy?”

“Not yet. Can you walk?” A light tug on his hand, and Crowley staggered to his feet, trailing after Aziraphale. Up the stairs? They never went up there. Private bookshelves and sculptures and junk.

At the top, Aziraphale opened a door that he’d thoughtwas a closet but actually led to Crowley’s bedroom.

Wait.

Crowley turned around, bleary eyes searching the shop. Plants. His plants. His sculptures. Junk. Also his.

Back to the bedroom. His bed, his furniture. Not his room. Wooden walls covered in bookshelves, good sized window looking out at the back alley. He could just see the Bentley parked out there.

“Th’fuuuuck…”

“I’m…I’m sorry. I should have asked.” Aziraphale gently pushed him towards the bed. “If you don’t like it, I’ll put everything back tomorrow. I just.” A gentle nudge, and Crowley sat on the bed. “I want you close. Where I can take care of you.”

“Don’need it.” He wriggled his toes, making his boots vanish. It was easier than meeting Aziraphale’s eyes.

“Yes, you do.” A hand on his shoulder pushed Crowley down into the bed, his head onto the pillow

It felt so much more comfortable here, in Aziraphale’s shop, with Aziraphale beside him.

“No. Don’t need you to take care of me.” He stared resolutely up at the ceiling, searching his aching head for the words he needed. Swallowing, trying to push aside the pain, the soreness in his throat. “I need…I just need…”

He couldn’t say it. But he reached out, hand groping along the edge of the bed until it found Aziraphale’s, resting lightly on the mattress. Cautiously, Crowley slid his hand on top of it.

“Crowley…please look at me.” His eyes wandered down, following the shelves until they landed on Aziraphale’s face. On his brilliant, angelic smile.

The demon tried to smile back, though his head was pounding. He managed something like a grimace. “Nnnnnnnnh. C’n we finish this in’th’morning.”

“Do you think you’ll be better able to talk?”

“Mrrrf. Will you be there?”

“Of course,” the angel said, nearly indignant.

“Nope. Not a chance.” His thumb traced the back of Aziraphale’s hand. “I can never say what I want. S’not even that many words. But…” Crowley shrugged.

“Can you move over?” Aziraphale asked, sliding his hand out from under Crowley’s.

The demon blinked, confused, and wriggled further along the mattress.

The bed dipped under the new weight as Aziraphale climbed into the vacated space, laying beside him. “I…I could never say it, either. Always something stopping me, some…uncertainty. Even now. But I shall keep trying.” His fingers gently brushed Crowley’s cheekbone. “My dear…would you like to…to make this place…your home?”

“Nh. Shop’s not home.” The fingers jerked away, and Aziraphale’s brow furrowed, not in concern this time, in pain. Fuck. Why was it so hard?

He caught Aziraphale’s hand before it could get far, bringing it back, gently resting it against his heart. “This, Angel. This’s home. You.”

“Oh.” Blue eyes blinked, a look of wonder in them Crowley had felt many times, wonder at this being who cared for him, who stayed by him. Always. “I…I see.”

The mattress shifted again, and suddenly the angel was closer. Which of them had moved? Did it matter? Did anything matter, apart from Aziraphale’s arm across him, all the warmth and softness he could ever ask for, pulling him in, pulling him close, enveloping him as it had that first day.

“Yes. Welcome home, dear.”

[mintchanniemint]

[angst ; wordcount: 2k]

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

pt.1 ; pt.2

[08:49 a.m]

The warm, sweet smell of freshly baked chocolate croissants quickly filled up the small kitchen in Chan's apartment. He had a day off and after going to the bakery nearby to treat himself to a nice breakfast, he checked the mailbox and strangely found, among the different advertising magazines and usual bills he had to pay, a letter addressed to him. 

He left it on the counter and kept staring at it while taking big, slow bites of the warm brioche in his hand. His mind started wandering from one thought to another, he really didn't know who could possibly leave a letter to him since he usually kept in touch with people either via emails or texts.

But suddenly, a specific thought flashed in his mind for a fraction of seconds. He stopped chewing on the croissant as he slowly walked closer to the counter and his eyes analyzed the handwriting properly. 

"I'm so dumb…" 

He mumbled to himself, a big sigh following right away. He left his unfinished breakfast on the small table and his fingers quickly traced his name written on that envelope. It was your handwriting, he couldn't explain why he didn't recognize it the second he saw it, but it was probably because he convinced himself that the two of you weren't gonna cross paths anymore. 

What was the content of the letter? Why did you leave a letter? And when? Why not a text message? 

Chan quickly shook his head, annoyed by all those unanswered questions floating around in his head, and he rapidly opened the envelope, but he closed it again right away, cowardly. 

"Dear Chan…" 

That was all he read. Yet, he felt scared. Scared of what you carefully wrote for him in that piece of paper. He felt so small and coward, but at the same time he knew it was wrong to just ignore it. He also had to admit that if he was already over you, he probably wouldn't have felt this way at all. 

"Three, two, one…" 

He got the piece of paper out of the envelope and took a deep breath before letting his eyes absorb every single word written on it.   

"Dear Chan, 

Yes, yes it's me. I don't know why I'm not texting you. I promised myself I wouldn't have contacted you but here I am… a coward as usual!" 

He lightly bit his bottom lip as he snorted and looked away for a moment. You didn't change at all, no matter how much time had passed. 

"But don't expect something long. No, this is something important and I want to keep it as short as possible so you can read this quickly."

His mind was telling him to stop reading. 

Why am I even reading this? We're not together anymore-

But he actually cared so much. Cared for a relationship he, himself, had ruined with his own hands. 

"Focus, Chan. Focus."

He sounded mad at his own thoughts, and decided to proceed with reading the rest of the letter. 

The piece of paper slowly left his hand as it delicately reached the floor, by his feet. 

"...so you can read this quickly. 

Thank you, Chan. Thank you and sorry. 

Thank you for keeping me warm during lonely, cold nights. 

Thank you for showing me how bright your eyes can shine whenever you smile. 

And thank you for breaking me, too. I was able to get up again, maybe with some scars, but I'm not gonna stay stuck here. We have to move on. 

I don't have any bad feelings for you. Thank you for loving me, and thank you for letting me love you.

I'm actually leaving tonight, you know, I acc accepted a job overseas. 

I wish you the best, always. "

Leaving?

Why were you leaving? Was it because of him?

A relationship that Chan knew he had completely ruined. He wasn't able to make you as happy as he thought he was, he actually hurt you multiple times and didn't know how to fix it, until it reached a breakpoint. And after letting you down, he just thought it was better to leave you. Because he didn't want to hurt you more than he had already done. 

His fingers started running through his messy hair, messing it up even more than it was already ruffled. His mind was running even faster than a few moments earlier and he was feeling somehow lost. 

What was he going to do? He noticed that you left the time of your flight in the letter, did he have to meet you there? Were you actually trying to leave a message to him? Were the two of you really over that relationship? 

What were you telling him? What was he supposed to do? 

"Gosh, this is destroying my mind." 

His voice filled the silence in the kitchen with slight anger and confusion. 

Did he actually want to go and meet you? Was it going to be worth it? What if you two ended up arguing? 

He reached for the piece of paper, leaving it on the table as he tried to finish his breakfast, although his hunger was already more than gone. 

His mind once again drifted away as he let the sweet, warm taste of chocolate fill his senses. His eyes focused on those few words at the end of the handwritten letter. 

Bite after bite, he could feel his own thoughts getting more and more mixed up. 

As he arrived home, he left the grocery bags on the table in the kitchen and sat down, his eyes automatically moving to the handwritten letter, that simple yet scary letter. 

He felt like a weird pang in his heart decided to bother him.

As he tried his best not to think about that letter, he tried to get distracted throughout the day; he went out for a stroll, met with some friends, and went grocery shopping. Yet that weird feeling in his chest wasn't leaving him alone. It really felt like something was wrong, not in its place… 

Chan took a deep breath and put that letter back in its envelope. He finally made up his mind, there wasn't much time left before you would have left the country. He had to meet you. 

"What should I do…" 

He sighed soundly, his heart tightening, his throat suddenly feeling dry as his hands caught that piece of paper for the thousandth time that day. Reading and rereading those few sentences, his eyes couldn't help but let his mind memorize the time you had written at the end of the letter. There, before your signature, at the corner of the paper. 

[9:23 p.m]

He tried his best to look somehow good; he kept his hands from distractedly ruffling his hair, he didn’t fidget too much with the hem of his coat because he knew he would have ruined it somehow. He didn't want to look like a whole mess, he didn't want that to be the last image you would have had of him vene though it was getting quite difficult for him to hide it.

He sighed once again, leaning his head against the window of the cab, on his way to the airport, as the bright neon lights of the city were occasionally caressing his features while he let the soft, distant music coming out of the radio fill up his mind, accompanying his thoughts. 

Chan kept mumbling to himself the time you wrote in that letter as he looked at all the huge screens listing the different flights. He was scared he was late, maybe he didn't understand the letter properly. Maybe it was all something his mind made up for him, maybe-

Once he arrived, he didn't hesitate much before entering that huge building; seeing that huge crowd of people, bright white lights, luggage, voices, smiles, cries.

It felt as if the realization started to hit him. 

You were leaving. You were leaving the country, you were leaving him and all the memories you were able to make with him.

And that was going to be his last chance to see you again. 

As his mind kept running through irrational thoughts, his eyes met with yours. You were in a queue, waiting for your turn for the check-in. You were wearing a warm coat, a black scarf covering and warming up your neck while your fingers were distractedly tapping on your suitcase. 

Chan felt like time stopped the moment your eyes met with his. He just looked at you, a little bit out of breath, as one of his hands went through his hair, ruffling it. He bit his lip and looked down for a second, probably cursing at himself for ruining his looks. 

You mentally pointed out how his hair was longer than you remembered. Before you could notice anything else, it was finally your turn to the check-in. Your mind kept giving you so many rushed thoughts, as if you were somehow thrilled to be seeing him after so long. You unconsciously didn’t expect to see him, you had to admit it. So much had happened in the past months; since seeing him at work was getting unbearable, you asked for a shift with a colleague in order not to see him when you were there, not even on accident and then you got that job offer and didn’t even think about it twice before accepting. You saw it as a chance to leave everything behind.

Chan quietly stayed there, his hands both in the pockets of his coat as his eyes couldn't leave, not even for a second, your figure. 

As Chan saw you walk closer to him, he froze. He felt like he was supposed to run away, as if he couldn't face you nor deserve to even talk to you. 

"Have a safe flight!" 

You thanked the lady in front of you with a smile and a nod as you walked away from that huge queue, directed to the gate for your flight. 

You kept getting closer and closer to where he was standing. 

His heart was racing, that ache not leaving his chest as your figure just kept getting cleaner and closer to his eyes. 

You stopped a few steps far from him, enough to hear each other. 

"Hey, you got the letter." 

"Yeah, I did. I… I did, yeah." 

As you were able to better observe his face, you noticed how his eyes were weary, his hair was messy because of excessive ruffling and he overall looked so exhausted. You couldn’t help but worry for him.

"Are you okay-" 

"Chan, it's not just your fault-" 

"I'm sorry." 

He blurted out so quickly, he probably didn’t even hear your question. His eyes not brave anymore to keep eye contact with yours. 

"I should have known better. It is my fault."

"It's okay. Maybe we just weren't meant to be." 

"Don't... say that." 

His voice sounded full of pain and regret as you slowly walked closer to him.

You gently placed two fingers under his chin, encouraging him to make his eyes focus on yours. 

"Then, Chan… Do something to make me stay." 

Those few, painful words left your lips in a hidden, loud and surreal cry as your eyes were trying to stay strong and keep eye contact with him. 

Chan was there, in front of you, his lips slightly parted as you could tell panic was slowly filling his mind. His hands ruffled his slightly long hair again and as he did so, you started taking a few steps back, ready to turn and walk away. 

“Anything.”

You insisted, your hand leaving his chin.

And you suddenly found yourself in that warm, familiar hug. A hug you had missed for months, already. A hug you thought you were not going to experience anymore. 

"Stop it!" 

His loud voice pierced your ears, followed by a swift, messy row of footsteps sounding louder and louder as you felt his hand grabbing you by the arm. 

"Whatever I try to say, it will only make things worse."

He mumbled between soft sobs as you could feel his embrace getting tighter around your waist. 

"Maybe it's just supposed to go this way." 

You tried to hide your trembling voice as much as possible as you closed your eyes, your hands now reciprocating the desperate hug. 

"Thanks for letting me love you, Chan." 

"I'm so sorry."

He let his words leave his lips in a low, trembling whisper as he tried to feel that hug as much as he could. 

"... I'm sorry I wasn't worth it-" 

"You were." 

You broke the hug and looked at him one last time with a light smile painting your lips as your eyes were starting to get filled with tears. 

"You're a whole mess, Chan." 

You lightly giggled as you wiped his tears with your thumb. He didn’t say anything back, so you decided to hold him in a last, warm hug.

Your figure getting more and more blurred to Chan's teary eyes as he finally let you go. 

"It's gonna be alright. Believe me." 

You caressed his cheeks one last time before you had to turn your back and walk away, the loud, robotic announcement voice mentioning your flight as you kept moving one step after the other. 

[little-mad]

A Seat at the Table Pt. 2 (Final)

~ Part 1 ~

After Gavin’s initial outburst had passed, breakfast went on smoothly and uneventfully, much to Rael’s relief. He was unprepared to address Gavin’s inquiries about why they couldn’t eat in the dining hall, because to be frank, Rael didn’t really have an answer.

Logically, Rael knew none of the soldiers would dare make a move against someone explicitly under the Emperor’s protection--and yet he couldn’t shake the feeling of paranoia that clouded his mind every time he pictured other alteons around the human. Maybe they wouldn’t attack Gavin, but what if they said something cruel? Something even Gavin wouldn’t be able to shake?

Simply being in this realm was dangerous for Gavin, therefore Rael needed to take as many steps as possible to minimize the risk. Honestly, he didn’t understand why the human had any desire to dine among the alteon soldiers; it wasn’t as though his previous experience with one had left a particularly great impression. Of course, Gavin did have a knack of surprising Rael. There was much more to the tiny man than he’d initially expected.

“Patrols are much more interesting than boring guard duty,” Gavin remarked from where he sat on Rael’s shoulder.

Seeing as constantly having his hands occupied with carrying a human was more than a little impractical, the two of them had needed to determine an alternative. Rael’s first idea of using a belt pouch hadn’t gone over very well with Gavin, and so they had ended up settling on the shoulder.

At first, Rael had been tentative about placing the human so high up. A fall from such a height would no doubt be deadly for someone of Gavin’s size. Gavin had come up with the solution of tucking himself under one of the leather straps of Rael’s armor, that way he had something holding him down as well as something to grip onto.

While Rael had agreed to the set-up, he still couldn’t help but send frequent uneasy glances at the human. It was difficult not to feel the need to be constantly vigilant when he was with Gavin. The little guy was just so fragile. The slightest misstep or wrong move could prove disastrous to him.

“Are you taking the same route as the last time?” Gavin inquired, his voice so near to Rael’s ear that he didn’t even need to raise it at all.

Rael shook his head, careful not to disturb Gavin’s position. “No, this time we’re patrolling the grounds,” he explained. As beautiful as the palace interior was, it could feel a bit stuffy after a while, especially with so many nobles and other important figures milling about and scrutinizing everyone around them. Since he had Gavin now, that particular aspect of the indoors was even less appealing.

“Great, I could use the fresh air,” Gavin commented just as Rael stepped out into the early morning sunlight.

-

Same as it had been the past couple days, Rael’s job proved fairly uneventful. A dull occupation was not something Gavin was used to. It was hard to get bored when you were a thief. Even intel gathering stakeouts often came with a healthy dose of intrigue. However, he had to be grateful for the mundane nature of Rael’s patrol, because things getting exciting also meant things getting dangerous.

A couple hours into the patrol and Gavin was convinced this one would be as uneventful as the rest. He had taken to resting his tired eyes, without Rael’s knowledge of course, when suddenly he felt his trusty giant steed’s walking come to an abrupt stop.

“Hey, what the--” No sooner had Gavin’s eyes opened that his vision was filled with a pair of giant hands reaching towards him. He instantly recoiled, though sitting on a shoulder, he had nowhere to retreat to.

Long fingers wrapped themselves around Gavin’s body, and with seemingly no effort whatsoever, they broke his iron-like grip on the leather strap and lifted him free.

Immediately, Gavin’s mind went to Kaydin, the thug who had tried to abduct him in the woods. However, there was something familiar about the hands surrounding his body; their grasp was firm but gentle, as though they intended to protect rather than harm.

When everything came to a halt and the hands were no longer in motion, Gavin was finally able to make some sense of the situation. He was being held in the relaxed fist of one hand, while the other one was cupped under the bottom so that his feet touched the palm. This left only the upper half of Gavin’s chest and above sticking out the top.

Gavin’s first move was to glance behind himself to find out just who had so abruptly snagged him from his perch. A wave of relief washed over him as he realized the perpetrator was none other than Rael...shortly followed by a wave of irritation at the sudden relocation.

“Woah, you seem a little defensive, Rael.” An instant feeling of dread began to steal over Gavin. He knew that voice, he’d had nightmares about that voice.

Slowly he turned back around. As expected, there stood Ashryn: Gavin’s least favorite alteon--which was impressive considering there existed an alteon who’d tried to kidnap and sell him on the blackmarket.

“I have been tasked with protecting our human guest, so it is my job to be defensive,” Gavin heard Rael state icily. There was no hint of the polite courtesy that had been present during he and Ashryn’s last interaction--something that Gavin was definitely pleased about.

“Ah, that’s right,” Ashryn remarked, seemingly unfazed by Rael’s less than friendly disposition. “A shame you got saddled with such an unfavorable task.”

If blood physically had the ability to boil, Gavin was sure his would be bubbling like crazy at this point. He had to literally bite down on his own tongue to prevent a vulgar string of insults from flying out of his mouth. Ashryn clearly had a unique knack for triggering the latent rage that lay within Gavin, but he wouldn’t let himself fall for the same trap twice. Getting angry was exactly the kind of reaction Ashryn was looking for.

“I’m honored to have been granted this assignment actually.” Gavin’s fury was temporarily forgotten at Rael’s unexpected words. “The Emperor specifically entrusted it to me after all.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Gavin caught sight of Rael’s hardened expression as he unwaveringly met Ashryn’s gaze. The guy was notoriously difficult for Gavin to get a read on, but he could swear he saw not even a shred of fear or uncertainty in those striking teal eyes of his.

Turning back forward, Gavin could tell the smug smile on Ashryn’s face had taken on a tight quality. He had a feeling the asshole wasn’t particularly used to being stood up to.

“Oh, well I was concerned it may have been more of a punishment than anything,” Ashryn stated. The naive innocence in his tone was nauseatingly artificial.

“I’m not sure you understand just how important it is to the Emperor that our relationship with humans remain positive,” Rael countered smoothly, as though he’d practiced this very conversation in his head countless times.

Ashryn’s smile began to falter, distinct irritation now flashing in his eyes. “You seem quite sure you know the Emperor’s intentions,” he commented coldly.

“Evidently better than you do,” came Rael’s quick reply, and Gavin nearly let slip a bark of laughter. He’d proven it before, but this was just further proof that Rael was clearly quite skilled with his words. If he’d grown up on earth, Gavin had no doubt the guy would’ve been one of those insufferable smart-asses on the debate team in high school.

The smile had completely gone from Ashryn’s face now and had been replaced with a dark scowl. The sight was so satisfying to Gavin that he couldn’t help a smile of his own from tugging at his lips. However, the joy was quickly shot through with a bolt of fear as the green-eyed giant’s gaze suddenly landed on him.

Gavin was quickly reminded of his situation. Ashryn was more than just some jerk, he was a giant jerk, and that giant jerk was currently giving Gavin the absolute dirtiest look of all time.

As though he had taken notice of the hateful glare too, at that moment Rael ever-so-slightly tightened his hold on Gavin’s body. There also came a bout of steady movement as Rael brought his hands closer to his body and farther away from Ashryn.

“I’m afraid I have no more time to waste on you and your pet,” the brown-haired giant spat, finally lifting his gaze from Gavin. “Enjoy your babysitting.” With that, Ashryn turned sharply on his heel and strode off down the cobble path that led back towards the palace.

“Stupid, pointy-eared, pretensious, oversized--” Gavin nearly drew blood with how hard he was biting on his tongue to prevent his thoughts from becoming verbal. Sure it would be satisfying in the moment, but it was obvious that Rael’s well crafted rebuttals were far more effective against Ashryn than Gavin’s disorganized assortment of crude insults.

Gavin was drawn out of his mental fuming when the hands holding him lurched into motion once again. Long fingers shifted around him until Rael’s thumb was pressed gently against his chest while the index finger did the same to his back. With an easy, fluid movement, Rael managed to twist Gavin’s body around so that he was now facing towards the giant rather than away.

Maybe if the circumstances were different Gavin would be irked by the gentle manhandling, but there was no way he could be annoyed with Rael after the way he’d just handled Ashryn.

“I’m sorry you had to see him again,” Rael said as he gazed down at the human in his hands. There was nothing but sincerity in his voice, and Gavin didn’t doubt for a second that the guy meant what he said.

“Don’t sweat it,” Gavin replied with a wave of his hand. “There was obviously nothing to worry about since I’ve got my knight in shining armor and all,” he added with a smirk.

Rael’s dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “My armor doesn’t shine,” he stated. “And I’d certainly not call myself a knight.”

Gavin gave a snort. The cultural divide between humans and alteons had once again made itself known. “It’s a figure of speech, dummy,” he told Rael as he flicked the giant’s hand.

“I don’t know how I’m meant to keep up with all your bizarre human sayings,” Rael grumbled as he moved Gavin back into position on his shoulder.

Gavin chuckled, and then there was a moment of silence as Rael set back off on his patrol. The quiet was comfortable. There was no air of awkwardness or a sense that one of them should be saying something. But then, after a few more moments, Rael suddenly broke the silence. “If you want to eat in the dining hall, we can,” he said simply.

Completely caught off guard, Gavin froze. He stared at the side of Rael’s face with wide eyes, but the alteon remained looking forward. “A-are you sure?” Gavin found himself stammering. He had no idea where Rael’s sudden change of heart had come from, and while Gavin was glad for it, he didn’t want to have guilted the man into the decision.

Smiling softly, Rael nodded. “Of course. I can handle any idiot foolish enough to think they can mess with you,” he responded smoothly.

Gavin broke into a grin. It seemed he would get his seat at the big kid table after all. All thanks to his trusty not-knight in not-shining armor.

[white-shadow25]

Moments: It’s okay, I’m here

Tyki Mikk x Fem! Reader

Tyki drummed the table with his fingers. Nervous, worried. His mind constantly traveling to [Name]. Next to him were Crack and Momo in the same situation.

It hadn't been overlooked how the girl had reduced her sleep hours and the amount of food she ate. Her skin had turned pale compared to her natural tone and her dark circles already seemed to be part of her day-to-day life.

Every attempt to talk to her about it had failed miserably. Usually, she would immediately deny any discomfort and show a smile ensuring that she was okay.

But she wasn’t.

"If she doesn't want to talk to us, maybe we could save a little on her and offer her to see a therapist?" Momo suggested.

"She's been insisting that we let her take a job, I don't think she wants us to put a lot of money on her," Crack replied with his arms crossed over her chest.

Tyki disconnected from the conversation. With his eyes closed, he caught a glimpse of the teen's suddenly bony wrists and the slight bruises on her forearms.

He considered his options. Confronting her and asking directly was out of the question. He had already done it and there were no results. Waiting for her to decide to open up to him seemed the only choice and it didn't convince him either.

It had been a few months since they began to notice the change. By this point, [Name] looked completely fatigued. Simple things like lifting boxes or even opening bottles were becoming difficult tasks for her, she occasionally walked with a slight wobble that made her seem like she was losing balance, and that she was skipping meals didn't help. [Name] herself had limited her activities to studying in her room, and she would often spend the entire day without leaving it.

Even Eeez had noticed something was wrong.

The bell that signaled the end of the lunch break brought the Portuguese out of his little trance.

▣ ▣ ▣

Tyki decided to open his eyes. He had been trying to sleep for quite a while but to no avail. That night [Name] showed up at dinner for the first time in three days, and a plate was served. Even though her stomach clenched almost instantly after seeing the food, she managed to swallow a little less than half. The boys noticed the superhuman effort she had put into eating so they didn't insist on her finishing the plate.

Instead, Crack placed a hand on the teenager's head and rubbed it lovingly.

Tyki reviewed the moment in his head, he was slightly relieved to have seen her eat, he would prefer that she eat a little more, but at least he knew she was trying.

He rubbed his eyes wearily and got up. In silence he went to the small kitchen for a glass of water, when, through the window, he saw a small bundle, wrapped in one of his shirts, shivering inconsolably on the porch. Without thinking it twice he left the small room.

The cold wind hit his face and the image in front of him pressed against his chest.

[Name] was kneeling on the floor, hugging herself, her shoulders shaking spasmodically, her lips pressed into a fine line to hold back the sobs and cries, as her tears fell uncontrollably. She had rosy cheeks and nose, whether it was from the cold or the crying, Tyki didn't know.

"[Name]? " shit "[Name]!” He knelt urgently beside her and forced her to look at him.

She froze for a moment in surprise.

"I-I'm sorry, di-did I wake you up?" She asked hoarsely. She sobbed and ran her hand over her face in a futile attempt to stop her tears.

Tyki frowned. "No, but you should have," he testified. He realized that he may sound more annoyed than he intended and took a deep breath. [Name], "he murmured," what's wrong?

She tried to calm her breathing so she could answer, but it was more difficult than she expected.

Tyki noticed it and muttered, "It's okay. Breath with me".

As he was able to help steady her, he rubbed her shaking arms in a comforting gesture and finished sitting on the floor in front of her.

"Better?"

"Sort of".

He just nodded. "[Name]" he took one of her small hands and wrapped his around it, "what's wrong?"

[Name] 's lower lip started to tremble again so she focused on breathing and staying calm.

"I... I don't know..." she confessed in a weak voice "It's just ... I can't think of anything in particular nor a set of things, nothing ... I don't know why I feel this way," she admitted.

She tossed her hair back. "I just… I'm so tired, but I can't sleep. It's…

Tyki waited for her to continue. "It's?" He asked when she didn't.

"It scares me," she murmured without looking at his face. "My head and chest hurt, I can't breathe or sleep, and the food makes me sick. I try to eat but it seems that I fill myself with water, I am losing my strength and…" the tears came down again "I don't know why. Last night I almost fainted taking a bath, I had to sit down and turn off the hot water, this morning I was going to puke but I had nothing in my stomach..."

She once again pressed her lips together to keep from sobbing.

"And I do not understand. I was fine. I'm fine. There is no real reason to feel this way, so ..."

Tyki listened carefully as he rubbed her back.

"Am I… am I dying?"

Tyki looked at her puzzled. In another circumstance he might have considered the question ridiculous, but not now. She was scared, really frightened.

For lack of words, he sat her on his lap and hugged her tightly. He was expecting some resistance, but [Name] clung to him almost immediately. She hid her face in his neck and clung tightly to his shirt.

"Listen, I don't think you're dying, but if it makes you feel more at ease, we can take you to see a doctor to get checked out."

"Do we have money to-?"

"Hush, I wouldn't offer it if I couldn't afford it. Okay?" She nodded. "Good".

Tyki continued rubbing circles on [Name] 's back until she completely calmed down.

"Is this the first time this happens to you?"

"In general or the breakdown?"

“The breakdown”.

The teen took a deep breath. Still hidden in his neck, she answered. "Not really".

Tyki nodded. "Next time you feel like you're going to break, let me know".

"Mhhm."

"[Name], I mean it. It doesn't matter if you have to wake me up, okay?"

Tyki pulled her away from him a bit when she didn't answer.

"Okay?" he asked again.

In the end, the teen just nodded.

"Look," he took her by her face so she could see him, "if the situation were the other way around, would you mind if I woke you up?"

[Name] widened her eyes in surprise and shook her head flatly.

"You'd rather I wake you up, wouldn't you?"

Knowing that she had lost the debate, she nodded.

"Well, it's the same for me."

She wiped her tears one last time. "Fine, fine. Next time I'll go with you".

"Thanks". He wrapped his arms around her again. "Do you want to sleep with me?"

"I thought you didn't want us to do that anymore."

"I know, but… I think it's going to be hard for me to sleep if I'm not sure you're okay… It's only if you want…

She nodded.

"Yes?"

"Yep".

They both got to their feet and carefully walked to lie on Tyki's mattress.

Unlike last time, Tyki had no problem allowing [Name] to snuggle against his chest. He kept tracing invisible figures on her back with one hand and running his fingers through her hair with the other. [Name] found herself sleeping to the lull of Tyki's voice.

"Shh, It's okay, I'm here".

[ratisnotcrying]

Juno Steel and how to pretend you’re fine

Summary: Juno hasn’t had a bad day in a long time. Okay, maybe he has, but not a bad-bad day, not a self-sacrifice-and-gun-fights bad day, not a what-if-I-crash-my-car bad day. He especially hadn’t had an I-need-to-hurt-myself-and-I-don’t-care-who-I-take-with-me kind of bad day.Except today. Today felt like all of those wrapped into one and multiplied by a thousand.

Prompt: “What if I just crash this car and make it all stop?” from prompt-dealer (i think)

Pairings: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel 

Warnings: canon typical suicidal thoughts/ suicidal tendancies, mentions of car crashes, intrusive thoughts, previous minor character death

Word count: 1.6K

A/N: this is cross posted on ao3 - please lmk if i need to add any tags 

~~~

Juno hasn’t had a bad day in a long time. Okay, maybe he has, but not a bad-bad day, not a self-sacrifice-and-gun-fights bad day, not a what-if-I-crash-my-car bad day. He especially hadn’t had an I-need-to-hurt-myself-and-I-don’t-care-who-I-take-with-me kind of bad day. 

Except today. Today felt like all of those wrapped into one and multiplied by a thousand. 

The old Juno would have given in. He would have entertained the idea for all of no time at all and then dived in head first with his eyes wide open. Juno-now (he wasn’t a new Juno, he was just… now, here) still entertained the idea, hell, he might even wonder why he wanted to do whatever it was. But he wouldn’t do it. Probably. 

He definitely wouldn't hurt someone else, no matter what he did. 

~~~

It had started after the last job, which had gone quite spectacularly wrong. 

Juno and Peter hadn’t gone in expecting an easy job - stealing a painting off the wall of a crowded ballroom was obviously going to be difficult - but that had gone off without a hitch, had gone off easier than the last time they did such a heist. No, the real issue came when a different thief had tried to steal a vase and gotten caught. It wasn’t even a nice vase, definitely not nice enough to die over. 

It had turned into a messy hostage situation, Juno’s HCPD training and his own career as professional hostage kicking in as he tried desperately to find a way to get everyone out. 

You can’t save everyone, Juno.

Three civilians and the thief had wound up dead, and more injured than Juno’s guilt ridden brain could count, and by the time he and Peter were back on the Carte Blanche, Juno could barely speak for the shock of what had happened. Neither Buddy nor Peter said anything when Peter debriefed with no input from Juno. 

Buddy did, however, decide to put off selling the painting for a little while, giving everyone some time to relax. This is where Juno’s bad day had started. 

~~~

In the timeless limbo between jobs, it was easy to lose yourself: Rita in her streams with Jet; Buddy and Vespa in their wedding plans, and Peter and Juno in each other. Juno couldn’t help the feeling he was losing himself alone. 

He knows he should have said something to Peter, or Rita, or even Vespa if he was desperate, but he was too busy trying to convince himself had it under control. 

His mind had been racing in loose circles, chasing empty thoughts and half-memories of every time Juno had fucked up, every time he had let someone die, every time he had almost let someone die. 

Benten. Yasmin. Alessandra. 

His head felt heavy with it, weighing him down into a feeling he thought he had long forgotten, numbing him so he couldn’t feel his way out. All he could find in the mess was the handy how-to he had written himself. 

How to pretend your fine when you absolutely, totally are - by Juno Steel

~~~

He had been doing a good job, if he did say so himself. Even if he and the rest of the ship knew that was a lie. 

Rita had been hovering more, not smothering him, just letting him know she was there; Jet never mentioned when Juno came and sat silently with him for a few hours, handing him tools when he asked. Buddy had outright told him that if he wanted to talk then she would always have time, ‘always, darling, just say the word’. Even Vespa had been a little nicer - their typically aggressive banter becoming more like a strangely aggressive therapy. 

And Peter. Peter was Juno’s anchor. He always was. 

But he could only pretend for so long.

~~~

Tonight, Juno wanted to drive - being inside was not helping, and so, from one moment to the next, Juno found himself behind the wheel, Peter in the passenger seat. It was late and Juno couldn't remember what planet they were on anymore. 

The car’s single head light shone dimly on the road in front of them and Juno stared blankly through the windshield, muscle memory alone stopping him from crashing. 

He used to do this, he used to drive for hours, let his numbness fill the car till he forgot he was driving and drifted mentally, drifted physically… 

He wanted to drift today. He wanted to feel weightless. 

The repetitive splashing rounds of the wheels sent Juno spiralling again, an endless list of people he had failed circling through his mind over and over and over again and goddammit he couldn't think, couldn't breathe, he needed it to stop, even if just for a second.

“What if I just crash this car and make it all stop?”

~~~

Peter had noticed the shift in Juno immediately after the job. He had seen his smiles become more strained, his eyes were hazy and unfocussed, movements slowed - as if he was drifting away, moving through a time Peter wasn’t quite in. 

He stayed close to Juno, and when Juno suggested a drive, Peter thought maybe this could be a good time to talk to him. But Juno had said nothing. They had been driving for hours. The suns had set and Juno didn’t seem to be heading home anytime soon, so Peter was about to speak, about to ask Juno what he could do. 

“What if I just crash this car and make it all stop?”

Peter was silent for a second, not quite sure he had heard Juno properly. Juno didn’t even seem aware that he had spoken aloud, nor did he seem to remember Peter was even there. He’s almost certain that the car was speeding up. 

“Juno, can you pull over please, love?”

The car swerved slightly, Juno startled at Peter’s voice, and Peter reached out and grabbed the wheel, pulling them back onto the road, “Juno, you need to pull over.”

The car slowed and, after what felt like a lifetime, came to a stop, a small cloud of dust flying up from under the wheels. 

“I- I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I should be fine.” Juno’s hands were gripped tightly on the wheel in a way that could have only been painful.

“Why don’t we get some fresh air, and then we can talk?”

Slowly, even slower than in the past week, Juno climbed out of the car and sat with Peter on the bonnet, staring up at the sky. 

“I should be fine,” he said again, “I’ve been fine and now… and now I'm not fine!” Juno choked on a sob. God, he hated being vulnerable. 

Peter considered this for a moment, “I know this is going to sound cliche, dear, but you don’t have to be okay. You’re allowed to be sad and angry, and-”

“But I am always angry, Nureyev. Always. I am angry at myself because I keep letting people get hurt and get dead. I’m angry at my mom and I’m angry at every goddamn person I meet and I don’t even know why half the time. There’s just- there’s just rage, and I can control it, better than I could before, but I dont- I dont know if I want to anymore. I just want to let go.”

“Why can’t you let it out, Juno?”

“I’ve done that before. Blind rage is how you get got,” Juno very carefully didn’t look at Peter when he said, “Letting go is how… letting go is how I nearly got myself. I’ve come so close to leaving this place, finally getting some damned rest. I don’t know what kept me here.”

Peter tried not to be too shocked at the almost wistful tone Juno used - they could talk about that another day, for now Peter just prompted, “You’re still here?”

Juno laughed humourlessly, “Yeah, that’s because I always got stupid lucky, and one day that’s gonna bite me in the ass. It was always other people getting got, never me,” He laid back against the windscreen, legs kicking softly at the bumper, “God, I’ve killed so many people.”

“Did you, though? Did you kill them all or did you blame yourself for not being able to do the impossible? Did you blame yourself for not being able to save every single person you met - a task which, I might add, is quite impossible, love.”

He shook his head and kept staring at the stars, looking for answers in the constellations. Peter laid next to him. 

It was a few minutes before Juno broke the silence, “Can we stay here a little while, before we go back?”

Peter would’ve stayed there all night if that’s what Juno needed. 

“Would you tell me a story, Juno? Maybe about someone you saved?” 

Reluctantly, Juno began to tell Peter about an eccentric real estate lawyer and her exploding, tuna-brick-loving cat, absently tracing patterns on the back of Peter’s hand. 

They laid there for almost an hour, but the cool night was interrupted by Peter’s comms beeping twice, signifying a message. 

Is everything okay darling? You’ve been gone a while.

As good as it can be right now. We’ll be back soon. 

“Who’s that?” Juno mumbled sleepily, his gaze shifting to Peter. 

“It was Buddy. Perhaps we should head back to the Carte Blanche.”

Juno nodded, sliding off the car but stopping short halfway to the driverside. 

“Would you like me to drive, dear?.”

Juno looked like he wanted to protest, like he wanted to tell Peter that he wouldn’t actually crash, but instead he just nodded and tossed the keys over the car. 

~~~

Peter knew that they would have to talk properly, they had to talk about Juno trusting him and the rest of their family; they would definitely have to talk about Juno’s allusions to his… more self destructive tendencies. For now, though, Juno dozing on his shoulder, the night road leading them home, would be enough to put both of their minds at rest for the night.

[iloveyou3thousand]

Tony gets possessive when Peter is getting seduced by someone. Request

Yes! Yess!!! I also got kind of into writing Peter/Harry so I might have made myself ship it now but no matter. Enjoy :p

CW: possessive!Tony, jealous!Tony, and a little Harry Osborn/Peter Parker

——————————————————————————————

Tony had never really insisted Peter get involved in anything too public. He seemed to prefer to keep things on the down low with Spider-Man in the public eye and Peter Parker outside of it. Peter didn’t mind because he’d seen and sometimes even kind of experienced the kind of things Tony had to go through on a daily basis and he wasn’t sure that he could keep up something like that. And besides, keeping his identities separated allowed him to just be Peter when he wanted to be. Tony was always, in the public eye in one way or another, also Iron Man.

But Peter and Tony had been working on a project together and while it had started out as just a bit of fun, it was growing into something that the market might genuinely be interested in and it was quickly gaining traction in the right spaces when Tony had initially proposed their ideas.

Fast forward several months later, their project was completed, and to promote their new product they were going to hold a fundraiser.

And people were starting to get curious who Tony had been working with all this time.

It was no secret that he didn’t work alone, but so far they’d kept Peter in the shadows. They’d discussed their options time and time again and eventually came to the conclusion that if they didn’t introduce Peter now, it might start to work against them.

Besides, surely it couldn’t hurt if Peter was in the spotlight as Tony’s right hand for just a little while? After that he’d go back into the shadows where he liked to think he belonged.

So Tony threw a fundraiser, and Peter got all donned up, feeling a little ridiculous but looking, according to Tony, at the top of your game.

And hey, maybe this would be fun, right?

They arrived at the party separately so that people would remain unassuming until the minute Tony called Peter forward to introduce him, and when he did the applause was thunderous. Thankfully Tony didn’t hand him the microphone to introduce himself because he would have fudged through whatever sentence his nervous mind managed to conjure up, and that’s not the image of him that he wanted to give people right off the bat.

After that the rest of the party was all champagne and chatting to people he didn’t know but had some important job or another. He felt a little out of place between all those rich people with their big words and their very specific taste in wine.

Tony tried to stick by him for the most part but he sometimes had to leave Peter’s side to go talk to someone he reassured Peter the boy didn’t even want to know.

That’s when a tall, slightly younger gentleman in comparison to the general crowd, came up to Peter with a friendly smile and an outstretched hand.

“Harry Osborn. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Parker.”

Peter took the hand and shook it, firing the guy a polite smile of his own. He’d heard his name before, of course. Osborn was a bit of a staple around New York City, but other than that he didn’t know much about the family that ran the company Oscorp. Harry seemed nice enough. Had a nice smile. Great jawline.

“Peter,” Peter blurted out when he realized he’d been shaking Harry’s hand just a touch too long and staring, “You don’t have to…call me Mr. Parker.”

“Right,” Harry said, and Peter absently noticed he had dimples in his cheeks when he smiled, “You don’t have to call me Mr. Osborn either. Just Harry’s fine. Don’t tell him, but I like to think I’m a little bit independent from my father.”

Peter made a vague noise.

“You must know him. Right? Norman Osborn? Creator of Oscorp?”

“Mhm! Yeah, no, of course I know him. I just don’t know why you’d want that when your father’s so…”

“Famous?”

Peter shrugged.

“I guess it’s just a little teenage rebellion then.” Harry’s smile this time showed a flash of teeth.

Being the first person to talk to him that seemed a little closer to his age, Peter found himself enjoying talking to him quite a bit. They had similar interests, both loved science fiction, and Harry could give him some tips and tricks on how to deal with suddenly being in the general spotlight for something.

It also helped that Harry was so damn friendly. He kept touching Peter’s arm of his shoulder or back, offered to get him a refill on his drink when he was out, he was achingly funny when the initial awkwardness between them had subsided, and he really did smile a lot, and laughed at Peter’s stupid attempts at jokes.

The first time his senses told him someone was looking at him, Peter tried to subtly glance around himself to catch whoever was doing it, but he didn’t notice anyone in particular.

The second time he felt it, he caught Tony looking, but he assumed he was just checking in on him, and so Peter gave him a big smile and a discreet little wave and Tony flashed him a smile of his own and threw him a wink, which to Peter came across as something along the lines of ‘hope you’re enjoying yourself’, or ‘you’re doing great’.

The third time he noticed it, it was when Harry was leaning in close, a hand on the small of Peter’s back and his lips barely brushing his ear, talking lowly over the hum of the crowd around them. Peter’s eyes met Tony’s once again, but this time Tony didn’t smile. His expression was ever so slightly pinched, and even from that distance Peter could see that his jaw was clenched. He immediately felt like something was wrong. But people passed by in the path between them, and when they were gone again, so was Tony.

Peter almost thought he hadn’t seen it. Maybe he’d imagined it.

Whatever was the case, the night ended soon after that.

Not because the party ended, but because suddenly Tony was by his side, an arm around his waist, looking to Harry.

“Mr. Osborn,” Tony greeted, though his voice didn’t sound welcoming in the slightest.

Peter noticed that Harry didn’t correct Tony when he called him that. The atmosphere suddenly felt a little too tense for comfort, like the mood had abruptly shifted the second Tony arrived. It was also undeniable that Tony’s hand was curled around Peter’s hip very tightly, thumb pressing firmly into the small of his back, the flesh of his hip.

“Mr. Stark. Great party.” Harry’s smile wasn’t entirely gone, but it might as well have been.

“It’s time we go home, Peter. Let’s finish up.” Tony looked at him, but Peter couldn’t read his expression. He started to protest lightly, because he’d been having a good time with Harry and honestly he wouldn’t mind if they stuck around for a little bit longer, but Tony’s grip on his hip tightened, and Peter went quiet.

He turned back to Harry.

“It was nice to meet you, Harry. Yeah, um. Maybe we’ll see each other again some time? I think that’d be nice. I hope you have a good night.”

Harry’s expression softened a touch when he looked at Peter, “Goodnight, Peter. Lovely to meet you too.”

Tony had Peter steered away and was leading him toward the exit before Harry could even finish his sentence properly, and Peter almost felt like he had to jog to keep up with the pace.

“Mr. Stark—” Peter protested, and Tony slowed down just a touch, but only because it seemed like they were being watched by the people around them.

A car stood waiting outside, and Tony helped Peter into it. Peter was almost convinced that he’d close the door behind him and send him off homeward but much to his surprise Tony gestured for him to scoot, and he got in after him, before closing the door and reaching over to knock twice on the partition between the backseat and the driver. Peter assumed it was Happy on the other side. He wasn’t sure though – he couldn’t see.

Tony didn’t say a word, which was unnerving. Peter half expected to get a lecture or something. Tony seemed upset. That was the best word he could think of that could describe Tony right now, head turned away from Peter and staring firmly out the window, his hands on his knees but his fingertips white where he was pressing them down as if he was trying to control himself.

It was almost…scary.

“What’s going on?” Peter asked after the minute of silence stretched on for too long and made him feel uneasy.

“That was Harry Osborn, Peter. Harry Osborn.”

“Yeah…” Peter clearly didn’t see the issue, “So?”

Tony whipped his head around and narrowed his eyes at Peter. “So? So you were going to let the son of the boss of the biggest rivalling company to Stark Industries take you home?”

“Home? I—”

“You were going to let him take you to bed?”

“To… bed, I wasn’t—”

“Fuck you?”

“Oh my god Mr. Stark—”

Peter had enough. He clicked out of the seatbelt he’d put on earlier so that he could scoot closer to Tony with the intention of talking to him, perhaps a bit firmly if necessary, but when he was halfway across the backseat Tony reached for him and pulled him into his lap with surprising ease, large hands settling on Peter’s hips, heat soaking through his suit.

Whatever Peter had been about to say died in his throat the second Tony leaned forward and buried his face into Peter’s neck.

Peter’s breath hitched and his hands automatically went up to Tony’s hair and the back of his neck, head dipping to nose the top of his head. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Tony act like that before. Definitely never toward him. It was almost…possessive.

“Mr. Stark…” Peter sighed, “Why are you so upset? Is it because he’s the son of your arch nemesis?”

At least that got a chuckle out of Tony, breath warm against Peter’s neck. “Arch nemesis is a big word, but. That’s not it.”

Peter kept quiet so as to pointedly give Tony the opportunity to elaborate.

“It could have been anyone and I would have disliked it just as much.”

Peter combed his fingers through Tony’s hair and felt a flutter in his chest at the realization that Tony was jealous. Anthony Edward Stark. Jealous, because someone flirted with Peter, who was really just his mentee and now business partner, by the way. And yeah they were close but they had never been this close and Tony had definitely never pulled Peter into his lap like that.

But now that Peter was there he didn’t think he would have wanted the night to end any differently. Sure Harry had been nice, and he was attractive, and they seemed to have gotten along. But that was nothing in comparison to what Peter felt and always had felt with and for Tony.

“How about…next time when you get upset like that maybe you could just—talk to me? About it?” Peter suggested lightly.

Tony finally lifted his head to look up at Peter, and he pulled him closer into his lap, which made Peter’s heart skitter.

“There won’t be a next time. I’ll make sure of it.”

Peter was about to protest because that didn’t sound exactly convenient or particularly right. How did he suppose he was going to do that? Never let Peter talk to anyone again? But then Tony’s one hand pushed up the back of his jacket while the other smoothed down his thigh and his lips connected to Peter’s jaw, beard slightly scratchy but his lips so lovely and warm it had Peter promptly going lax in the other man’s lap.

“Next time I’ll make sure everybody knows you’re mine.”

Peter could only hope there would be a next time soon.

[mrsalwayswrite]

Say You’ll Stay - Chapter 7

Fury/Band of Brothers Crossover Fic

We finally meet up with Easy Company!

Tag List: @happyveday​ @alwaysindecemberfeels​ @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes​ @saritanotserena​

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

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

The morning arrived with a slight fog, bringing a sense of otherworldliness with it. As if ghosts stood along the tree line just watching and waiting in complete silence. Everyone moved with shifty feet and wary eyes, voices staying low. The starting of engines only exasperated the stillness around them. It had been decided, with so many men killed and wounded in the company, the whole group would travel to Haguenau. From there the wounded could be evacuated to a hospital and hopefully replacements sent for those lost. 

 Anna wandered around the tanks, checking in with the other medics and just trying to stay warm. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried to keep the wintery cold at bay. A coat taken off a soldier, who no longer needed it, now covered her filthy nurse’s uniform. She tried not to think about wearing a dead man's coat, rather imaging it was a spare. Her legs were still exposed to the elements from the knees down to her short uniform boots, making it impossible to fully warm up as she walked around. 

"Mount up! Let's go!" The call echoed around from several different mouths, stilling the nervous restlessness hanging over the company. 

 The wounded were placed on the tanks to ride since they did not have a truck to transport them anymore. Besides the officers and those in the armored division, all the foot soldiers were forced to continue walking. Not a perfect solution but it was all they afford to do right now. Hopefully they could escape another surprise attack. 

 Ignoring those around her, she made her way towards Fury. Both to keep an eye on the wounded laying or sitting on the tank but to also stick close to the tank's crew. She had woken up that morning, still huddled against Boyd's side, wrapped in Don's leather jacket and the spare blanket from Gordo. They shared what breakfast they could with her before she had to head off and start rounds. Medic Arthur Christianson had taken over lead medic from Joe Hunter. A blow they all felt but this was war and you just learned to keep moving. The two other medics had been courteous enough to her from the beginning so it was not too much of a hardship to work with them. 

 Each medic had chosen a tank to walk next to and keep an eye on its wounded. She had immediately claimed Fury. 

 "Anna!" 

 Looking up, she noticed Boyd staring down at her from his spot on the tank. 

 "What you doin' down there?"

 She glanced around then stared back at him. "Walking." She stated with a casual shrug, not understanding what he was getting at. 

 Grady chuckled from his spot next to Boyd. Smoke curled around his mouth as he exhaled, the cigarette still between his teeth. 

 Boyd rolled his eyes with a deadpan expression. "I see that. Thank you. Why ain't you riding?"

 "Only wounded are riding. I'm fine, Boyd. I don't mind walking." She tried to assure him, a small smile on her face. Hopefully that masked how cold she actually was and the agitated nerves humming throughout her body. She walked a little further towards the front of the tank. Fury only carried five wounded, spread out along its sides. Stopping at a young soldier with a bandage around his head, she touched his leg to gain his attention. "How are you feeling?"

 The brunet opened his eyes, looking down at her from where he reclined on the tank. A shy smile crossed his lips. "My head ain't spinnin' like it was."

 "That's good. Let me know if that changes." Patting his leg, she smiled back at him. The young soldier was one she was particularly concerned about. During the initial explosion, he had been thrown back and landed hard on his head, getting knocked unconscious during the process. Eventually he woke back up but with a bloody head wound. 

 Tucking a few strands of wayward hair behind her ear, she adjusted Joe’s- no, her medic’s satchel across her body. Her heart clenched slightly at the reminder. Her own personal bag had been in the supply truck, now a pile of ash. Her few extra clothing items, her beloved book from home, the few letters she had from her family and friends along with what little money she had been holding onto, all gone. All destroyed in the fire that raged throughout the night as it consumed the supply truck. It hurt more than she thought it would. It was just stuff, but it had helped ground her, remind her of home. Without it, her soul felt slightly adrift. Even as she tried to convince herself it was just stuff, that it was replaceable, that twenty-two men died while she still drew breathe…. she still missed her belongings. 

 "Hey, dollface. Nice legs you got there."

 She pretended to not hear the comment from the lanky soldier sitting on the tank, bandage around his calf. She remembered him. A bullet ricochet hit his calf but he screamed like his guts were being ripped out, then he threatened one of the other medics until he received morphine. 

 "Ah, c'mon, smile. I just gave you a compliment." He called after her, a sleazy smirk on his face. 

 "Hey, shut up." Boyd demanded, having turned to glare at the offending soldier. 

 The arrogant soldier looked over his shoulder at Boyd as if surprised to be called out. "What? Like you can't see them." He snickered, continuing to leer at the nurse. 

 Anna closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Unfortunately, she was used to men like that by now. Even if she hated dealing with them. She had a job to do though. War did not care if the men it wounded were good or bad, kind-hearted or arrogant, gentle or dangerous- it took them all. Her job was to save as many as she could from War's grasp. To allow as many men as she could to return to their families one day. 

 She turned slightly to meet the eyes of the lanky soldier. "Is there something you need, soldier?"

 "Aren't you going to check on me, darling?" He winked at her. 

 In a sudden flurry of movement, Grady roughly shoved the soldier off the tank without preamble. The soldier screamed as he hit the ground, landing on his hurt leg. The sound echoed in the air, bouncing off anything nearby as if to gain momentum in volume. Everyone nearby jumped at the sound, eyes locked on the soldier swearing and rolling on the ground. Anna stared in horror and confusion, a hand over her rapidly beating heart, unsure if she should intervene or stay to the side. Her answer came in the next moment as Grady hopped off the tank to stand between the soldier and Anna. 

 The soldier screamed, grabbing at his leg as he rocked on the ground. "What the fuck was that for?! Christ, I'm wounded, you asshole!" 

 "Yeah, shut the hell up." Grady said, just staring down at the soldier. He turned to look at Anna but never turned his back completely on the soldier. "You good?"

 She nodded mutely, beyond surprised and made quite speechless by Grady's actions. 

 "Coon-Ass! What's going on here?" Don stormed towards them, cigarette hanging from his lips and fire in his eyes. 

 "Nothin', Don. He started talking shit 'bout Anna. I shut him up." Grady shrugged, staring at his commander. A silent understanding seemed to pass between the two. Don gave a curt nod and only after that did he even acknowledge the man on the ground. 

 "You his Sergeant?!" The soldier was yelling, teeth bared like a rabid dog. "He pushed me off the goddamn tank! He can't do that!" 

 "Yeah? Well, sounds like you fucking deserved it." Don pulled the cigarette from his lips, blowing the smoke out. His eyes quickly shifted to Anna to scan her quickly before dropping back down to the soldier. 

 "Cause I complimented the fucking nurse? You know what, fuck you! And fuck the bitch!" 

 Don whipped out his pistol and pointed it at the downed soldier. Every sound ceased. The air froze. No one moved. Tension radiated from the scene. It felt with one wrong move, one wrong sound, Don would shoot. Even the wounded man stared in horror and rage at the pistol aimed at him. Everyone waited to see what Don would do. Anna covered her mouth with her hand, terrified that if she even peeped, Don would shoot the man on accident. When Don spoke next, Anna had never heard him sound so cold, it physically sent shivers down her spine.

 "I highly suggest you shut that big mouth of yours before I put fucking hole in your other leg." 

 If looks could kill, the soldier would have killed the tank commander twice over with the lethal glare he leveled at Don; but he wisely kept his mouth shut. The two stared at each other, almost willing the other to say something and set them both off like ticking time bombs. 

 After several tense moments, Don was the first to rip his gaze away and look over at Anna. Without a word, he beckoned her over with his hand. Worried and a little intimidated, she hurried over to stand between him and Grady. 

 "Anna, up you go now." The tank commander stated, nodding towards Fury, the threatening tone not quite fully leached from his voice yet. 

 "Wha… oh, no, I'm ok, Don. I promise."

 Those intense eyes bored into hers, immediately stopping any further excuses from passing her lips. "I can see you shaking like a leaf from the cold. I won't ask you again."

 "She can take my spot with Bible." Grady said to Don, looking over her head. "Keep her warmer."

 "Good. C'mon then."

 Next thing she knew, she was being manhandled by Don. He lifted her up as if she weighed nothing and set her onto the tank, where Boyd took her hand and slipped her into the gunner's spot with him. Her legs immediately felt marginally warmer as they were no longer bared to the cold elements. 

 Don climbed up to his spot, just on her left. None of the other soldiers, wounded or walking, would meet his gaze as he scanned over those nearby. As if just a shared glance would unleash his terrible ire onto them.  

 "I could have gotten up by myself." She grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest as she glanced over at him. 

 His hands stilled from placing the helmet on his head, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment. "Whatever you say, doll." He winked quickly at her then looked forward, tapping a hand on his comms to speak. "Alright, let's move out."

 After that the tank jerked forward, Boyd had reached over to help keep her upright. Once settled, she tucked her face into her coat; not because of the cold, but in hopes no one would notice the blush on her cheeks. Butterflies danced in her stomach and it took her mentally berating herself to keep the stupid, giddy smile off her face. A simple wink should not have this much of an effect on her. Her mind decided to remind her of how it felt to have his hands on her and how easily he lifted her. That thought made her face heat up even more. 

 To distract herself, she peeked over her shoulder to see Grady sitting just behind her on the tank, watching the tree line with his mouth slightly open. 

 Although she still felt somewhat tense around Grady, he no longer looked at her as if she was a piece of meat to be ogled. She had noticed it the prior night as she joined the Fury crew and fell asleep leaning against Boyd. Followed by his strange actions today, she could not help but wonder what changed… if whatever occurred between him and Don in the French town had more of an effect than she realized. Maybe he was not such a bad man after all? Giving people second chances was something her mother preached and Anna found herself trying to do. Maybe now was a perfect example?

 Those on Fury rode silently for several miles, just watching the surroundings. Her thoughts turned dark, wondering if she should write Joe Hunter's wife. Obviously his wife would receive a condolence letter from the army but maybe it would help if she received a personal letter too from someone who worked with him? Who knew him and how devoted he was to her? Then again, she did not want his wife to misread her letter somehow and think Anna and Joe had an affair and now Anna was writing a letter out of guilt? Would someone do that? Or would they keep quiet about it? Her thoughts bounced around in her mind like ping pong balls, constantly moving but never actually in a helpful way. 

 "Where you from, Anna?"

 "Mmm?" Boyd's sudden question drew her from her inner musings. She lifted her head to look at him from staring at her nails as she picked at them. It took her an embarrassingly long moment of him staring at her with his eyebrows raised for his question to sink it. Heat filled her cheeks but she hoped it was not too noticeable. "Oh, sorry. I grew up in South Carolina but my family moved to Virginia, so that's where we lived the last few years. What about you?"

 He hummed, shifting slightly. "Missouri."

 "I've never been there. Do you miss it?"

 "I reckon. I miss the people there more, ya know?"

 Don cut in, still staring a head. "What he means is, he misses his girl."

 Her eyes widened and her head moved so fast from looking at Don on her left side to staring at Boyd on her right, she almost gave herself whiplash. "You have a sweetheart?"

 "Yeah." He shrugged casually as if it was not a big deal but the small smile on his lips and the light in his eyes betrayed him. 

 "And you haven't told me this?! You were getting on my case about seeing if I had one and this whole time you did!" She smack his chest lightly, making him flinch while Don and Grady laughed. "What's her name?"

 "Sarah Grace." His eyes softened even just saying her name. "Prettiest woman on God's good earth, I swear."

 She smiled at the fondness in his tone. 

 "We was gonna marry but then the war broke out and I felt called to join up. So she's waitin’ for me. When we get back, I'll start seminary and we'll get married."

 "If she's still waiting and not married someone else."

 Boyd narrowed his eyes at the mechanic behind Anna. "Grady, you just tryin' to get me riled up. It won't work. I know she'll wait."

 "Maybe she done run off with someone already." Grady countered, a smirk on his face. 

 "I just received a letter from her last month. You know that."

 "That was last month…"

 "I swear, Grady, if you don't-"

 "Alright, alright. Knock it off." Don said, grinning. It was obvious this was a continuous argument but was born out of teasing than any true malice. Boyd mumbled something under his breath, shoving his hands in his pockets.

 "Well I think it's sweet, Boyd. I'm happy for you." She bumped his shoulder, erasing the scowl on his face. In a split second decision, she looked behind her at Grady. Second chances, she told herself. "Where are you from?"  

 Initially, he seemed startled that she would ask him but quickly hid the surprise with his usual indifference. "California."

 She turned to Don next. "And you?"

 "Kentucky."

 It felt like she had to physically tear her eyes away from his or else she would be trapped in them. There was an intensity in them that balanced on the edge of exhilarating and terrifying. All it took was a small breeze to push him one way or another. So far she had only seen the kind and protective side of him. Now though, after he pulled the gun on the wounded man, she had seen a brutal side. It reminded her of when Norman mentioned about when he first met Don. Now she could see it, what Don had forced Norman to do. It sent a chill down her spine. People were forced to commit terrible crimes all the time during war. Was this side of Don because of war or just something that lurked under the surface continuously? She found herself worried about the answer. 

 Boyd interrupted her thoughts, continuing the conversation. "Gordo there is from Texas. Norman is from Pennsylvania."

 "Y'all are from all over the place." 

 "Yep, all it took was Hitler startin’ a war for us to meet."

 They all chuckled but grew quiet again at the sobering thought. 

 Anna could not help but think about where she would be right now if she had not joined the Nurse Corps. She had hoped to go to college and become a teacher. It was not glamorous but the very thought of it brought a smile to her face. Much to society's chagrin, she wanted more from life than to just marry the first man that came around and start having his babies. But it did not matter now. She was not even on the same continent of her birth. 

 She pushed back the thoughts of before and focused on those around her. The smell of cigarettes from the soldiers surrounding her. The chill in the air that clung to her without reprieve. The sight of what should have been a beautiful forest but set her on edge, expecting another surprise attack. She could not focus on what she was missing out on. War happened. And she answered the call. Even if it had been to get away from her own sins and ruined reputation.  

 *****

 The next afternoon, the company and tanks rolled into Haguenau. Snow dusted everything that had not been trampled yet. The air hung heavy with fatigue and despair. Supposedly the Allies were winning the war, but with the looks on the faces around… you would not suspect that. The sound of a mortar slamming into the ground up ahead made Anna flinch. She could not help but wonder what kind of new hell she had been taken too. 

 "Let's park in the rear. Don't need those Krauts aiming for our tanks." Don said over the comms. 

 When the tanks stopped, everything ground to a halt around them, followed by Captain Evans pulling up in his jeep. "Sergeant Collier! You'll come with me. Let's find out who's running this shit show."

 "Yes, sir!"

 Anna slid off the side of the tank, careful of her cold, bare legs. Instead of riding that day with Boyd, she had instead elected to ride next to a young soldier who had been shot in the shoulder. Tears slipping down his cheeks but the soldier never made a sound. The whole ride she held his hand on his uninjured side. Occasionally, she had to check on the other wounded but she always returned back to the young soldier. He never cried out, just whispered a near silent 'thank you' and held her hand tightly. 

 She could hear the men being told to stay put until further orders were given. Most were used to the routine by now. Stand around until directed where to go next. It was something she was adjusting too. Ignoring those yelling commands around her, she fixed her mangled uniform and coat as much as possible and looked up at her patient/companion. 

 "I'll be right back." She tapped the young soldier's leg before walking away in search of Medic Christianson. 

 She found him talking to one of the other medics, standing near a different tank. "Arthur, what do we do now?" She asked, rubbing her hands together to try and warm them up. Spring and its accompanying warmth could not come soon enough. 

 "We need to find the aid station they have here. Hopefully get the men moved there and transported to a hospital." He said, lighting a cigarette. After a drag, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Right, I'll go. Keep an eye on those around here."

 "I'll come with you." She said probably far too brightly if the looks given to her said anything.  

 His green eyes narrowed at her a moment before he shrugged. "Fine. Let's go."

 She started to follow him, arms wrapped around herself in the large army-issued coat. For a second she wondered if she should tell Boyd where she was going then she dismissed it. He was not her keeper. She was here to do her job. 

 They wandered into the corpse-like city of Haguenau. It looked desolate. A mere illusion of what it had once been before war corrupted its beauty. Bombed buildings, craters in the streets, the staining of blood scattered along the ground and snow. Anna had never seen a place like this before. 

 After receiving directions from a passing Sergeant, they found the building housing the aid station. It was a two-story house that looked semi-stable, but far better than others surrounding it. Which was not a high standard. Anna and Arthur quickly ascended the steps and walked inside, not just to get out of the cold but to avoid the sporadic mortars. 

 "Something you need?" A voice asked them as soon as Arthur closed the door behind them. 

 The two looked over to see a man watching them from a side room. He had short black hair, thin beard, open face and medic badge on his arm. His head was tilted to the side, the cap on his head sliding slightly with the movement.

 "We just arrived with our company and we've got wounded." Arthur said, taking charge and moving another step into the building.  

 "Uh huh." The man eyed them then turned back and called out toward another room. "Hey, Roe!" He looked back at the two by the door, it was obvious the calculations crossing his mind as he prepared his question. "How many wounded?"

 "Eighteen."

 "Shit. What happened?"

 Anna kept back, allowing Arthur to take the lead. The dark-haired medic's eyes flickered towards her occasionally as if wondering what she was doing there but chose not to ask. Rubbing her hands together, a brief smile lifted the corners of her lips. Just being indoors, the permanent chill in her bones receded just enough she did not worry her legs would turn to icicles. It had only been a few days since the company left the small French town but being continuously outdoors, day and night, was something Anna found she disliked fervently. She looked over as she heard footsteps coming around the corner. 

 Arthur was still talking to the dark-haired medic, explaining what happened. "They laid landmines in the road, then when we stopped they fired on us from the surrounding woods. Perfect fucking ambush."

 "Damn Nazis." The medic shook his head. "You hear that, Gene?"

 The one called for came around the corner. He also had dark hair, pale skin and a sharp jawline. His eyes though were dull and a hint of red lingered around his nose like he was getting over a cold. His uniform was clean but even that could not distract from how bone-deep weary he appeared. "I 'eard. We got room upstairs. Won't be an issue."

 She froze, her mind whirling. That voice. She recognized it. Not many medics she had encountered had such a distinct Cajun drawl. Her brain frantically raced trying to remember where she knew it from. 

 "Eugene?" She found herself asking, hesitation in her voice. The man's head whipped over to stare at her. "Eugene Roe?"

 "Yes, ma'am. Have we met?"

 "Yes… I mean." She tucked some loose stands of her hair behind her ear, nervous that he would not remember her. "It…. It was back in Albourne. We did some training together. I'm Anna… Anna Cooper."

 One could watch the light bulb go off in his mind and his eyes light up. "Chérie?" His voice almost held an element of awe to it, that she was here and real. 

 She nodded, feeling tears fill her eyes. There was something in the simple nickname that tugged at her heart's strings. It reminded her of a time before war. Before blood and screams. Before the memories of death were stronger than memories of home. When it would just be the two of them at the aid station in Albourne practicing bandaging one another or swapping stories of their homes when homesickness struck them. 

 He hesitated for a moment before walking towards her. Seeing him move, she practically sprinted to him. They collided in that drafty building in Haguenau and for a moment, both felt like they could feel the sunshine on their faces and a spring rain to cleanse the taint of death from their skin. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. His own arms enclosed around her much smaller frame, surrounding her in warmth. Tears slipped down her cheeks, wetting his ODs. For once, she was not even ashamed. 

 "It's alright, chérie, it's alright."

 She laughed wetly, tipping her head up to look at him. "I can't even tell you how happy I am to see you."

 "I got that impression." 

 "Don't ruin the moment, Gene."

 He chuckled, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. "It's good to see ya too." He released her to step back and fully look at her. It was then he seemed to finally noticed her attire, or lack thereof. His eyes narrowed staring at her bare legs and short uniform boots before jumping back up to her face. "How did ya end up here? And what 'appened to ya uniform? Ya must be freezin'."

 "It's a long story...and we ran out of bandages, so…" she shrugged, gesturing to her clothes, self-conscious of her exposed skin. 

 Gene and the other medic shared a look before Gene looked back. "I expect to ‘ear it later, and we'll find ya some spare ODs. Spina, we got any in the new winter lot?"

 "Uh...I think so." The dark-haired medic responded, eyebrows almost touching his forehead. 

 "How many wounded y’all got?" Gene asked Anna.

 "Eighteen."

 "Bring 'em here. We'll make room. Medics?"

 Arthur answered this time, arms crossed over his chest. "Three medics and Nurse Cooper."

 "Good. Know how long y’all stayin'?"

 "No." She peeked over at Arthur, who confirmed her answer with a short nod. "We only just arrived."

 Gene looked over at Arthur. "Careful bringin' 'em here. We'll get space set and some coffee for ya." He peered down at Anna, eyes softening. "Let's get ya some warmer clothes, chérie."

 "I swear you're an angel… a Cajun angel."

 He chuckled, shaking his head. "Whatever ya say." Putting an arm around her shoulders, he guided her towards a different room. 

 And for a moment, she was reminded that one could find joy even in the midst of war. 

 *****

 The tank commander stood in the back of the crumbling, dank room observing the scene before him. He had followed Captain Evans and his two lieutenants to the HQ for the battalion holding Haguenau. Personally, he would rather be back with his men instead of here listening to formal introductions. This battalion did specifically ask for him and his platoon, so he steeled himself to get through this.  

 "I'm Captain Evans of the 103rd Infantry Division. This is Lieutenant Diggs and Lieutenant Cox. Behind them is Staff Sergeant Collier of the Armored Division." The Captain, who was clearly the oldest in the room by at least a decade or two, stood in the middle of what most likely used to be a nice living room, if the damaged chandelier hanging above him said anything. Now the place looked somewhere between trashed and abandoned. His two lieutenants stood just behind him as the introductions took place. "I'll get to the damn point, eh? We were blitz attacked on our way here, lost twenty-two men and another eighteen wounded. Fucking Krauts. I'm requesting permission to regroup and have our wounded taken care of before we move out."

 The red-head with the Captain's bars on his jacket nodded quickly, granting permission before Captain Evans even finished asking. "Of course. We don't have a lot to spare but we will what we can." He reached his hand out to shake hands with the grizzled captain. "I'm Captain Winters of the 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101st Airbourne."

 "Paratroopers, eh?" The older man eyed the other captain after shaking hands.  "Heard you are some mean bastards. Nice to see the reputation isn't wrong for once."

 "Just doing our jobs."

 "Right. We'll get outta here, eh? Thank you again, Captain."

 "Sure." Captain Winters stated kindly but still with a hint of a guarded tone. "You need anything, ask for myself or Lieutenant Speirs of Easy Company."

 With a final nod, Captain Evans and his two lieutenants walked out. A strange silence fell over those in the room after the door slammed shut behind the Infantrymen. Don suddenly felt like he was back in the elementary school yard and was waiting to get picked for a team. Thankfully the silence did not last long. 

 "Armored Division? Are you our supposed tanks?" A dark-haired man asked, sitting propped up in a corner, flask openly in hand. This was his first time speaking, instead having just watched the prior introductions with a cocky grin.

 Don eyed him, noting the Captain bars on his uniform. "Yes, sir. 2nd Armored Division or what's left of it."

 Captain Winters stepped forward to shake Don's hand. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

 "Yeah, could have used you two months ago. Hell, even a month ago could have saved lives." The other Captain muttered then took a sip from his flask. Don tensed but then noticed the unnamed Captain's aggression seemed more directed at whatever happened two months ago versus Don himself. 

 The red-head looked over his shoulder. "Nix…"

 "Yeah, yeah, I know."

 Winters looked back at Don. "How many tanks do you have?"

 "Four, sir."

 "Good...good. There is talk of some smaller towns nearby we will need you for, to provide assistance with liberating and securing. Until we know for sure, your men find somewhere to stay. As of now, you are under my direct command, understand?"

 "Yes, sir."

 "That'll be all, Sergeant Collier."

 Don gave a quick salute and headed back out into the bombed out town. As he walked back towards the tanks, he thought about the man whose command he was now under. Captain Winters. There was a calculating intelligence in his eyes, not in a malicious way, but more as a chess master. When he asked Don about the number of tanks, it was apparent his mind immediately took the information and began processing how best to utilize them. Don also noticed how when a mortar landed particularly close to the building, making the few pictures left on the walls shake, neither the red-headed Captain nor the dark-haired one flinched. At all. The tank commander was unsure fully what to make of the other Captain- this Nix- but he approved so far of what he has seen in Captain Winters. He was a man obviously in control with his authority but was not so far up in the clouds he forgot about his foot soldiers. A rare trait amongst Regiment in Don's opinion. 

 By the time Don arrived back, it seemed most of the infantrymen had dispersed into the city leaving the tanks and their crews waiting for him. He hoped they could find a decent building to claim without resorting to violence. At this point, he was not above punching a few Privates to make sure his crew got a good roof over their heads. 

 "What's the orders?" Binkowski asked, eyeing the city warily. 

 Don sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before answering. "Under a Captain Winters now. Said to stay put until orders are confirmed but sounds like we'll help secure some towns nearby."

 "Heard they're paratroopers." Davis said. He leaned against his tank, lighting up a cigarette. 

 "Yep." The sound of a mortar went off nearby. Don watched Norman startle out of the corner of his eye then rub his nose on his sleeve. He made a mental note to check on the kid once they got settled.

 "Paratroopers?" One of Davis' crew muttered, standing just off to the side. 

 "The idiots that volunteered to jump out of planes." Binkowski answered with a snort and shake of his blond head. 

 "On purpose?" The crew member's eyes widened. Don tried to remember the man's name. Kohl… Colbert… Coulson… something like that. 

 Gordo said, sitting on top of Fury. "Heard they are some real sonsofbitches."

 Don smirked. "Guess we'll find out. Let's find somewhere to claim before all the houses are filled up."

 The men began to move, ready to find somewhere to bunk down. Don surveyed around once more, wondering what awaited them in this hell hole.

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

Alright, what did y’all think of Easy’s introductions? Lemme know what you think!

[unmaskedagain]

Ladybug in Smallville

           You can’t fix a broken heart, her grandmother told when Marinette was young and had ask why the older woman why she never remarried.

“You can forgive here,” Gina Dupain had pointed to her head. “And you can tell yourself every day that you forgive him, that all is well. And maybe you do. Maybe not right away, like you tell people but eventually… you do. You move on. You find some kind of peace. But that doesn’t mean your heart’s forgotten. Especially during the worst of it, when it’ll remind you every day just how much you’re still hurting.”

           The silver haired woman had look so dejected, so cynical compared to her usual chipper, charming self that it left the little girl stunned.

“Until one day, it doesn’t,” Gina continued. “And yet, your heart’s not the same. You’re not the same. No matter what you tell yourself. Sometimes, you’d swear it’s just a giant scar on your heart. Because at least that means it’s healed; beaten up, bruised, and permanently disfigured but healed.  Other days when you think too hard about it, and you are walking through memory lane; you can just barely admit the truth. That you can still feel every jagged edge, sharp angle still there from a shattered heart. And once on a very blue moon, you admit to yourself the truth; you can’t fix a broken heart. It’ll always be broken. Love has consequences.”

           She looked Marinette deep in the eyes, “The trick is learning to live with it. Learning that a broken heart doesn’t mean it doesn’t work.”

“Broken… but still good,” Marinette quoted Lilo and Stitch.

           Her grandmother beamed, “One of the hardest things is the world, sweetie, is to not let that broken heart stop you. You can cry. You can be angry. You can vengeance on the entire world. As long as you never let it stop you from living.”

“And loving?” Marinette asked. “You learned to love again.”

           There was a pause. A thoughtful look. And then a sigh, as Gina finally answered, “No, I never fell in love again. I could never trust the same as I did before. Never managed to figure out how to love with all of my heart like I used to when I was young. And it always felt wrong not you; but that’s just me. I learned to love myself, though. And that is the greatest thing you can ever learn. Love yourself.”

           Marinette had been nine-years-old at the time and hadn’t quite understood what her grandmother had been talking about. But she never forgot, the cold look on her grandmother’s face and the sorrow in her eyes.

           It was only years later, when the biggest liar to ever walk the planet proved that not all villains are easily defeated, when her friends had all turned their backs on her, when the boy who she swore she was going to marry someday was more of a cowardly frog than a prince, when even her parents bought the fabrication of Marinette being a bully, a thief, a jealous liar that Marinette finally understood. Because not only had her heart been broken, but it had been shattered.

           Marinette couldn’t even go to Fu as the man had used the last of his power in a fight against Hawkmoth because Chat Noir never showed up and Fu refused to give out Miraculous to people Marinette didn’t trust so the turtle had to fight. They had won but Marinette swore she’d never forgive Chat Noir for not showing up and costing a good man his life, and Marinette her mentor.

           Master Fu’s last act had to strip Chat Noir of his ring and name Marinette the new guardian. Before he faded, he warned Marinette that some people weren’t worth fighting for. Sometimes, a hero’s first priority has to be to save themselves.

           However, even then, Marinette had refused to give up. She kept trying to get her friends to listen, even when they made it clear they weren’t her friends anymore. Most didn’t reply to the texts anymore. And the ones that did, Alya mostly, ridiculed her; scorned Marinette’s very existence.

She tried to get Adrien to stand up and help her like he’d promised, only for him to ignore her calls, texts, and have Nathalie tell her that he didn’t want to be involved.

Despite the furious silent treatment from her mother and her father’s disappointed looks, Marinette still tried to convince them of her innocence. She had begged for them to listen to her, to trust that they raised her right, to believe her.  It was only after two weeks into her expulsion, when Marinette found luggage waiting by the door that Marinette understood. Nothing would change their minds.

They explained quickly that Marinette was going to be sent to live with her father’s godmother, one of his mother’s best friends. A good woman who promised to set Marinette straight. Or at least keep her out of trouble.

Marinette was on a plane an two hours later to a little old Kansas and then to a small town rightly called Smallville.

A kindly older blond man name Jonathan Kent had met her at the airport. Marinette had given him a polite, quiet, greeting and when mute for the rest of the ride to their farm. She hadn’t known what to expect. Feared the worst. Feared that they thought she was the bully her.

As soon as they arrived at the farm, a rather pretty greying redheaded woman walked out of her house with a mixing bowl in one hand and a sturdy wooden spoon in the other. Marinette steeled herself as she got out of the car. She raised her head up, “Bonjour, Madam.”

“Well, aren’t you the sweetest little thing,” The woman had greeted. “And I swear, you look just like your grandmother. It’s that spark in your eyes. Every time I saw it, I knew there was going to be trouble. Particularly, for the fools that messed with her. That’s how my cheating ex boyfriend’s dorm accidently caught on fire.”

           Marinette blinked once. Then twice. What?

“Accidently, Martha?” Jonathan chuckled as he got Marinette’s bags out of the car.

           Martha shot him a smile, “They could never prove otherwise.” She looked Marinette over, “Gina said your parents have their heads in a place sun just can’t seem to reach. Wanted to me to look after you. Get you away from all that drama. Get you with family. And the lord knows, that woman doesn’t know how to sit her butt anywhere long enough to leave an imprint. So come on inside, let’s get you unpacked and some food inside you.”

           Aunt Martha, as Marinette had been instructed to call her, had led her to an empty room that was just a bit bigger than the one she used to have and had a desk by a large window, a twin bed covered in a plaid blanket, and a few other standard amenities. Plus an old sewing machine on the desk. Marinette’s eyes lit up at the sight of it.

“Your grandma told me you like to design,” Aunt Martha smiled kindly. “I don’t use old Bertha myself anymore but I’d thought you’d like her. You can decorate your room anyway you’d like. Let me know if you need any help.”

           Marinette nodded and couldn’t stop herself from hugging the woman. She hadn’t been able to take much with her (Clothes, phone, laptop, a stuffed animal or two, the guardian box) but she made sure to bring all her sketch books and had just barely enough time and money to drop off a few boxes of her designing equipment and supplies at the local mail service carrier to be shipped to the farm in the upcoming weeks. The fear had been weighing on her of what ifs. What if it all got lost in the mail? What if Marinette couldn’t design anymore?

           Martha simply hugged her back, no probing questions. When Marinette let go, Martha said, “Now Kara and Conner’s rooms are either side of you. Conner’s mostly here on the weekends. Kara visits enough to still have room. They can be a… little nosy. But ignore it. My son, Clark, is visiting next week. They just can’t wait to meet you. I wouldn’t be surprised be any of them suddenly drops in.” She laughed, and it sounded a little like jingle bells.

           Then suddenly, Martha straightened up and gave Marinette a soft look, “You let me know if you need to talk or… Anything really.”

           Marinette felt her throat close up a bit and nodded stiffly.

“Dinner will be on the table soon.”

“May I help, Madam?” Marinette asked.

           Martha looked her over, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. You can go ahead and get settled in.”

           Marinette blinked again. No one ever turned down her offer to help before. “I want to.” And so she did.

           Cooking with Aunting Martha was different that with her parents. While, she knew her parents loved to bake. It always felt like a job with them. One more responsibility Marinette had. Cooking with Aunt Martha was relaxing. They shared stories with each other and Marinette got more insight of her grandmother’s past than she ever had before. And even when it got silent, Marinette didn’t feel the need to fill it for once. And neither did Martha. It was nice.

           Eating dinner had been the same. Enjoyable and lovely with promises of teaching Marinette all about the farm. Uncle John laughing at wide-eyed Marinette reaction to idea of her milking a cow. It was a relief not to deal with her mother’s stony silence and her father’s blatant disapproval.

           Marinette knew from just one night that the Kents were good people and if she let herself, she could enjoy her time there. That didn’t stop Marinette from crying herself to sleep for a few nights.

           During her first week, Marinette didn’t hear a word from her parents. Or the second. Marinette knew they were more than likely waiting for her to make the first move like she always did.

           But unfortunately for them, Marinette was done. She was done with fake friends and disappointing crushes. She was done with being made out to be the bad guy. She was done always being the one to fix everything. Save everyone. Because she knew, without a doubt, that this time. Her first priority had to be save herself. Marinette had to fix herself. (Of course, Marinette still had to use the horse miraculous to go save Paris nearly every day but innocents needed her help.)

           So Marinette let herself be immersed in the smallville way of life. She helped out of the farm. She competed with Aunt Martha over who had the best pie recipe. Blinked in confusion when Martha wrapped a plate of Marinette’s special double chocolate salt caramel cookies to be delivered and muttered something about “Alfred finally getting his” and the Kent family reigning victorious. Marinette had just been happy to be considered family.

           Speaking of family, Marinette had become rather fond of her new “Cousins”. Jon was the youngest and reminded Marinette of a very hyperactive puppy. He constantly dragged Marinette away to play games and pretend. Connor was a bit sullen but had turned out to be a giant teddy bear once he opened up. He loved to talk about his friends; particularly someone named Tim. The beautiful blond Kara loved girl talk and arm wrestling Connor. She raved about Marinette’s designs and over her pictures with Jagged Stone. Clark, the oldest of her cousin, was a sweetheart; a geeky reporter who was married to a man named Bruce, worked mainly out of Metropolis, and had somewhere between five to seven kids. There was a lot of names and nicknames that left Marinette’s head spinning.

           None of them had taken kindly to Marinette’s story of how she ended up on the Kent farm. Wondering who could bully such a sweet angel?

           Though Marinette decided he wasn’t ever going to be her favorite after the blueberry scone incident.

           Over the next few months, Marinette learned what her grandmother had meant about letting herself be angry and getting some vengeance. Because was allowed to be angry. And she was allowed to get payback.

           After a rather nasty Akuma, Ladybug had taken the time to do an interview with Nadja. She had confirmed that Chat Noir was never returning, that the Ladyblog and its journalist had lost her trust forever after Ladybug had learned about the lies the blog was posting.

“What lies,” Nadja had asked, glad to finally stick it to the girl, Alya, who had been so mean to her honorary niece.

“Well for example, who the hell is Lila Rossi?” Ladybug asked when Nadja pulled up the website on the blue screen behind them. They scrolled through the website pointing out lies and inaccuracies. “That girl is not my best friend. I saved her from her own akuma save five times now. That’s it. I don’t know the girl. I don’t like the girl. What was written would only serve to put Lila in danger. And what’s this about Lila saving Jagged Stone’s cat? From a plane? Which airline was this? Who could be so careless?”

           Nadja nodded and looked quite stunned herself at what was on the blog. “I highly doubt Clara Nightingale stole Lila’s dance moves. Or strictly guarded Prince Ali invites random girls, even Ambassador’s daughter, to discuss his country go green intuitive. Or that she came up with the entire plan herself. This is just ridiculous! And what this about you curing Tinnitus?”

           Ladybug quickly shook her head, “That’s not possible. And it gives people false hope.”

“So Lila’s lying,” Nadja had to fight to keep the smugness out of her voice. She had told Sabine she was wrong. Had been absolutely furious that Marinette had been sent away. Some journalist should really learn Check Her Sources.” She said the last part with a smirk. “And what’s this about Gordon Ramsey?”

           It went on from there, with brief intervals so Marinette could recharge. Ladybug had blasted her former school, its’ principle, and her old teacher Bustier to shreds. For allowing bullying of students, victim blaming, and sheer negligence. Reciting how many times Ladybug had to deal with akuma from that school, particularly from Bustier’s class.

“I heard one poor girl even got expelled,” Ladybug shook her head. “From what I’ve heard, there was no investigation, just word of mouth, easily planted evidence, and then expulsion. I’m surprised I didn’t have to deal with her Akuma.” Ladybug’s sad tone was clear to hear. “I looked into the incident a bit. A rather brilliant Robot name Markov had been recording the room at the time.” Marinette nodded to the screen. “I had them blur the students faces for security reasons. The girl with the short hair is the victim in question.”

           The video played. And it was clear that a long haired girl had stolen the answer and planted them.

“I’m just sorry I couldn’t fix the issue,” Ladybug sighed. “By the time, I heard of it girl was been sent away by her parents. Not even they believed her.”

“I know the girl you’re speaking about,” Nadja frowned. “She’s stronger than she looks. Still, she deserved better. I swear to you that I’ll be leading the charge in investigating the wrongful expulsion.”

           Ladybug smiled.

           It took less than an hour after the interview to air for Marinette’s phone to start blowing up. Her ex-friends, her old classmates texted up a storm of apologies.

           The call from her parents had come in no longer after. Her father had full of apologies and swore to make it up to her. Her mother had been in tears.

           They were met with silence from Marinette. A forgive didn’t come. Marinette made it clear she still loved them but she was staying with the Kents. She would not be returning to Paris. It was her father’s turn to cry.

           Marinette would forgive them in time. But that wasn’t her priority was herself at the moment.

           While the Kents, Marinette was free to just be Marinette. Not anyone’s “Everyday Ladybug”. And was finding that she liked who she was.

           She liked designing clothes for Kara and dresses for Aunt Martha. Doing everything possible to get Clark out of plain. (She would be victorious!) She liked hanging out around town with Connor and being someone’s little sister, as he called her. Though she wouldn’t mind if he lost the overprotective streak. She wasn’t some damsel in destress. There was no more panic attacks. No more dealing with pushing best friends. No more waste time on crush on a blond loser.

           The only near heart attack she had was the blueberry scone incident. Marinette had gotten an akuma alert. She had yelled to Aunt Martha that she was going on a walk, hid behind the farm, transformed and portal’d away.

           Unfortunately, Uncle Clark had heard that Marinette had made her famous scones and had been FLYING overhead to the house at the time and had saw her.

           Uncle Clark had been waiting for her when she got back, with crossed arms and a stern look on his face. Before Marinette could open up her mouth to give a multitude of excuses, Clark held up one hand to silence her. Then he spun around faster than she’d ever seen anyone do before. And then Superman was standing in front of her.

           Marinette’s heart had stopped, she’d swear.

           After that they both de-transformed. Uncle Clark had led her inside where the entire Kent family was waiting.

           Turns out Uncle Clark was a tattletale. And he was never going to be her favorite.

“Snitch,” She told him simply before anyone could say anything.

           Clark blushed a little but shrugged.

           After that everyone introduced themselves. Or rather their superhero identities. Each taking turns to tell their story. Marinette had shed a few tears about the loss of Krypton. Marinette had introduce the Kwamis’ to the Kents. Jon had let out a squeal of joy at the sight flying creatures.

           Aunt Martha had only laughed when Plagg flew up to her face and said, “Cheese.”

           Marinette told her story from when she first got Tikki to then. There was no happy faces in the room.”

“You’re a superhero?” Kara was the first to burst out. “Ladybug the Parisian hero.”

“You work an entire city?” Connor asked. “I’m now even allowed to do that yet.” He shot quick glare at Clark. “Even the Teen Titans has league supervision.”

Clark raised an eyebrow, “The Justice League doesn’t usually tread on other heroes’ territory. Ladybug had always managed well.” He then gave her a look. “However, we were unaware that Ladybug was a teenager. I think its time we took a closer look at Paris.

[lunam00na]

An Unlikely Affair: Chapter 2 - Down the rabbit hole..

Amélie spent the few hours she had left sorting out what little belongings she had and distributing them amongst some of the other peasants she had become familiar with from her years of working various temp jobs. The peasants were thankful, but curious as to why she was giving away all of her things. Her response was that she was going to stay in another nearby city, where some long lost family lived. Though she felt a little guilty for lying, she knew from the odd context of the letter that it was best that nobody knew where she was truly going. Not to mention the fact that the instructions stated she was to wait under some bridge in the darkness of night to catch a ride to the palace. 

Her gut quivered at the thought of being alone on these dangerous streets at night.. “Lets hope I survive long enough to actually get to the damn place..” she thought wryly. With her belongings gone, and nothing left for her to do but wait, Amélie gave a final goodbye to her small home. Coarse, wet wood brushed against her fingertips, as she placed the palm of her right hand against the shack’s door. With a sigh, she muttered under her breath, “Goodbye, you. You’ll make someone else a small refuge now.” She lingered like that for a moment, recalling a handful of good times she had spent here in the city of Grimshores. 

Her wild blonde hair was dampened from the rain; it waved back and forth in the wet breeze. She wore a brown overcoat, littered with holes that she had patched herself with whatever bits of fabric she could find. Underneath was a simple white day dress, which was more of a tan color now from the dirt and mud, than white. The clothing clung closer to her skin the longer she stood in the rain; she was skinny as a rail. 

“Okay, it’s time to go,” she rasped, her nerves getting the best of her for a second. Her head finally managed to convince her legs, and so she set off for the bridge east of town. It would take her nearly an hour to reach the bridge by foot; judging by the position of the moon in the sky, she guessed it was already past midnight. The walk gave her mind time to wander; she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the words Genny had written, than just a job opportunity. The thought crossed her mind that this was some sort of trick, perhaps she was going to meet some clever fiend under that bridge, and she would be mugged, raped and killed.. Or forced to become a prostitute for the benefit of some sick and twisted man.. 

“No. Don’t think of that,” Amélie corrected herself sternly, quickening her pace. She walked briskly down the dimly lit sidewalk. Now she was out of the slums, almost at the edge of town. The streets were all but dead, aside from the occasional homeless person sleeping on whatever dry spot they could find. Still, she found herself slipping her hand into her coat pocket, clutching a crudely fashioned knife. The letter had instructed her to bring no belongings, but she simply could not travel this far in the dark without some type of protection. She knew that if she were attacked, there was little she could do despite having this shoddy knife; but she would not go down without a fight. That was for damn sure. 

Her mind turned to the Prince.. The King. Would she meet them? Surely the King would take no interest in meeting a lowly servant such as herself. But the Prince? Maybe. Genny did mention he had come to her himself in search of help. Her cousin must have made a grand impression on the Royals. It shouldn't surprise Amélie, her cousin was quite bodacious for someone of their social standing, and she was a damn good cook. A smile played upon the corner of her lips; reminded of the trouble the two of them had gotten into during their childhood. "Hard to believe we will be together again," Amélie shook her head and snickered. 

Finally after what felt like an eternity, she made it to the bridge where she was supposed to be picked up. There was nobody here yet, or at least that she could see in this darkness. She drew closer to the bridge, inspecting the surrounding area before rounding the side and ducking underneath the wooden structure. There was nothing around but trees, and some other vegetation. A small creek ran beneath the bridge, and she was careful not to fall in, lest she wanted to catch a cold. She gripped a wooden beam with her hands, steadying herself there. The constant trickling of water made it difficult to hear if someone was approaching. By her estimate it was almost time for her ride to arrive. She waited, her eyes searching amongst the darkness for any flicker of movement. 

A few minutes passed, and suddenly the sound of hooves pounding the earth reached her ears. Amélie swallowed hard, her heart flickered anxiously beneath her breast; she felt like it was trying to break free. She put her hand over her mouth, trying to mask her heavy breaths. The rider grew closer, and finally stopped on top of the bridge above her. A moment passed, then the rider dismounted; the thud of their feet against the wooden bridge sounded loudly in her ears. Amélie cringed and grabbed hold of the knife inside her overcoat, just in case. 

Her heart thumped so loudly in her chest she was afraid the rider could hear it.. She stood slowly, inhaling and exhaling a deep breath, and prepared herself for what could happen next. The water was still flowing somewhat loudly under the bridge, but the rider was so close, Amélie could hear their feet brushing against the grass. Her hand clenched tighter around the handle of the knife; finally the rider appeared in front of her. 

He held a small lantern in one hand, the faint glow illuminated his features. Their eyes met, and for reasons unknown to her, Amélie's heart skipped a beat. 

"Are you Amelie Waters?" The stranger asked, his voice low and husky. She followed the movement of his lips with her eyes, she had heard him speak but was too distracted to answer. His eyes were the loveliest shade of hazel she'd ever seen, and they held such warmth behind them. She almost immediately felt at ease with this man; which gave her a sense of comfort yet concerned her at the same time. How was this stranger able to dazzle her within seconds of their first meeting? She felt like some silly teenager with a crush; her face heated in embarrassment. 

His hair was dark and curly with a messy short style. His face was handsome and he had a strong angular jawline to match. He was quite tall, having to duck under the bridge, and he would surely loom over her in his normal posture. 

"Ma'am? Are you Miss Amélie Waters? If so, we really should be going." The man repeated in his low, hushed voice. Amélie blinked once, twice, and then straightened herself. She felt utterly ridiculous that the man had to repeat himself because she was too busy oogling him. She shook her head once, breaking their gaze before speaking, "Y-yes, I am Amélie Waters. I'm sorry for not answering you sooner.. Anyway, uh right.. We should be going now." Oh God. He must think I'm an imbecile. She groaned internally, mentally giving herself a facepalm. 

The man smirked for a moment and then composed himself once more. "We can make more formal introductions later, but for now we should get going. People will be getting up for work soon and I'd rather we not be seen." He said firmly and motioned for her to come with him. "Of course," Amélie replied, following his lead up the creek bank and onto the wooden bridge. His horse was waiting there, it's coat was as black as the night itself. 

He took the reins in one hand and hoisted himself upon the beast with the other. 

"Need a hand?" He asked politely, outstretching his right arm to her. She took the offered hand silently, thinking it best not to say anything lest she make more of a fool of herself. With his help she sat in the saddle behind him, her torso pressing against his back. She felt her face flush again; hotness rushing to her cheeks, and she tried not to think about their close proximity. 

"You have to hold onto me like this," he instructed, reaching behind him and gently grasping her hands then placing them on his sides. Her heart started racing again, but she did as he said and held onto his sides tightly. The last thing she wanted was to fly from this horse. At this rate it wouldn't surprise me.

"Okay, let's go!” Her chauffeur commanded, and his horse began a gallop toward the castle. 

Amélie stifled a shriek as the horse tore off down the winding dirt road. Oh my god he’s trying to kill me. Her fingers dug into his sides and she buried her head between his shoulder blades. She couldn’t help but notice his scent; he smelled of musk and sandalwood. It pleased her that he smelled so good, because most of the peasants she had lived around didn’t have access to soaps and perfumes. It was a rare occasion that a man walked past her and she found his scent attractive. So far it seems everything about this man is attractive.. She mused, and then scolded herself for being such a tart. Am I so sex depraved that I fling myself at the first decent looking man who doesn’s smell like horse manure? She questioned herself internally with a chuckle. 

True, she had been quite some time without intimacy. It was at least 4 years since she last had sex.. There wasn’t much time to think about her next boot knocking when she was fighting to survive on the streets. 

“You hanging on alright back there, Miss Waters?” The man asked abruptly, shaking her mind from the gutter. She blushed furiously, even though she knew he couldn’t read her thoughts; thankfully. “I’m fine,” she muttered into his back, “I’ll be even better once my feet are back on the bloody ground!” He chuckled at her response; he had one of those laughs that made you want to smile. The man replied, “I’m sorry, Tuck doesn’t go slow!” Amélie scoffed, “No shit! You don’t say?” That earned her another laugh, she could feel the vibrations from his laughter in her hands. It gave her a warm feeling. She hadn’t felt so light in such a long time. 

The rest of their ride was uneventful and silent. At last they came to a slow trot in front of the castle gates. She had never actually seen the place in person; it was a sight to behold, even in the dark. They rode past the gates which automatically swung open as they approached. “Strange,” she thought, “you’d think there would be more of a security protocol in place for entering the palace grounds.” She summed it up to the guards recognizing who her chauffeur was. 

They came to a stop at a side entrance to what she guessed was the main part of the castle. The stranger dismounted his horse and offered her a hand down. “There you are, safely escorted with your feet back on the ground.” He said with a smug look on his face; his lips hinted at a smile. She smirked and couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him. “I never caught your name, by the way?”

“Apologies, Miss. My name is Roman. Roman Octavius Reynolds. I am the Prince of Albanon and heir next in line to the throne.” 

Her heart stopped. 

[winter-soldier-vibes]

Let Me In (Bucky Barnes x depressed reader)

Let me in

Inspired by the song Let me in your room, by Halestorm

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 2907

Warnings: depression, panic attack, lots of fluff

Summary: Reader shuts herself in her room because they have trust issues. she wants to talk about what she’s going through, but she doesn’t know how. After a few days of not hearing from you, Bucky decides to find out what’s going on.

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

To say you had trust issues was a huge understatement. Your entire life, people who you trusted would let you down. Your friends would turn on you when you needed it most. Your parents would blame all of your mistakes on you, as well as some of their own. You had some things that you had been battling with your entire life. Depression, anxiety, that kind of thing. And when you needed love and support to get through it? People would leave. One way or another, people always left.

So you started keeping to yourself more. You stopped seeking support from the people around you. You loved them, you were just afraid to let them get too close for fear that they’d leave you out to dry just like everyone else. 

You were recruited to the Avengers about a year ago. You came without a shred of hesitation. There wasn’t anything left for you as a civilian. You had no one, and you weren’t leaving behind anything worth remembering. The team took you in and you befriended most of them, especially Steve, Sam and Bucky. You were their fourth musketeer. 

That being said, you never let any of them get too close to you. You would hang out with them, have casual conversation, joke around with them, that kind of thing. But you never let them get any closer to you than that. You trusted them with your life, just not your secrets.

Since coming to live in Stark Tower, you’d had fewer flare ups with your depression. But it would still take you by surprise a few times throughout the months. You would deal with it by staying in your room for the most part, making as little interaction as possible. You didn’t have to hide it if there was no one to hide it from.

You always were the kind of person to keep to yourself, the guys had picked up on that pretty early on. They never were the prying type, though. They figured you had your reasons and they wanted to respect that. But when there would be days at a time where they’d only see you leave your room once or twice - well now, that was cause for concern.

Steve was always worried about everyone on the team. That was his job as your guys’ Captain. But he got especially worried when he would see you shut yourself out from everyone and everything. He wanted to help, and he tried. He would knock on your door a few times during these periods, asking if you were okay and if there was anything you needed to talk about. 

Sam had seen how people would sometimes shut people out in response to guilt or fear. Running that group after he returned from the warzone, he had seen the way it could break a person down. He would also come to try to talk to you.

Bucky was quite familiar with what you were doing, because he had done it too. He would shut people out because he didn’t want to hurt them. He didn’t think this was what you were doing, but you had the same response as he had had to something traumatic. He just wished he knew what it was about. He too would come to check on you. You would give them all the same response.

Silence. 

It wasn’t that you wanted to tell them, god how you wanted to tell them. You were just scared - no, terrified - that they would leave if they knew how you really felt. So you did what was easier. You would wait until the episode would pass and you could smile without complete agony.

It was becoming torture, really. The time in between your episodes was becoming shorter and shorter, and it was to the point where you were shutting people out more than you were a part of everyday Avenger life. When you woke up you just wanted to pull the covers over your face and forget. You could barely even manage a smirk. Everything felt pointless and you felt completely empty.

The guys took notice of this too, growing more worried as the days went on and the less of you they saw. They had known you kept to yourself, but this proved to them that there was something you were holding back, something that was eating you from the inside out. And all 3 of them knew that doing that wasn’t healthy at all. They knew from personal experience.

You had been in your room for a total of 4 days now, only getting up to use the bathroom periodically. Besides that you would alternate between sleeping and staring at the ceiling. And occasionally listening to the boys try to coax you into talking to them. You never spoke, but what they didn’t know was that you would be listening intently, opening your mouth to speak but no words coming out. You couldn’t - wouldn’t - let them in.

But today was different.

Bucky worried a little more than the other two because of his personal experience. He knew hiding something caused a lot of pain and suffering, and he couldn’t bear to think of you feeling the way he did when he shut everyone out. And today, he decided, he wasn’t leaving until you either let him in or talked to him through the door. He wasn’t going to take silence for an answer.

When he was in a rough spot, it had been people who cared enough to ask what was wrong that got him through. He wasn’t about to turn away from you when it was clear you needed someone around.

So he came to your door, closed and locked as usual, and began knocking. Three knocks, softly at first. When you gave no answer, as suspected, he knocked a little louder this time. He leaned against the door with his left arm and he rested his forehead against it. “Listen, I know you may not want to talk, but just listen to me okay? I just want to talk to you.”

This had your attention. Your ears were open. 

You heard him sigh outside your door before he continued. “Look, the three of us are really worried about you. Locking yourself in your room for days at a time isn’t healthy, regardless of the reason. I know you’ve always been a reserved person, but this…” he swallowed. “I don’t know about the others Y/n but I’m really concerned about you.”

“Now, I don’t know what’s happened to cause you to do this, and I’m not going to pretend like I do. But I wish I did, Y/n. You shut us out like this, and I hope it has nothing to do with us or something we did. But I don’t think it’s about that really.”

Even though you knew he couldn’t see you, you shook your head as tears brimmed your eyes. This had nothing to do with them at all.

He took a deep breath before he closed his eyes and blurted out. “I’m worried about you because I used to do the same thing.”

Now you really had his attention. You sat up in your bed as he continued, “When I first came here, after my Winter Soldier days, I was shaken up. I shut people out - I didn’t want to let them in. I didn’t want to hurt them. And it didn’t matter how badly I wanted to talk about what was going on - I wouldn’t let myself.”

It was as if he was reading your exact thoughts. You were a little surprised though. When you had come to the team, he seemed pretty open about everything, what he had been through and such. He didn’t just bring it up in everyday conversation, but if something was bothering him he would talk to one of you about it. 

As if he could tell what you were thinking, he said “I talk about it now if something flares up, but I never used to. I would keep it inside where no one could see it. And though I know that may not be why you do the same, that doesn’t mean that I don’t understand. And…” he paused before adding “I just want to help you Y/n. Please. I’ve let you in and you’ve seen all the dark parts of me. Let me do that for you. I’m right out here. Just...Please let me in.”

You now had tears falling down your face as you moved to put your feet on the floor. You gripped the edges of your bed, trying to convince yourself that he wouldn’t hurt you like everyone else, and also trying to convince yourself that he would. Something about what he had said this time was...different. It was more personal. 

He said he understood, right?

If he understood, he wouldn’t leave me.

But, what if he’s like all the others? What if he -

No, Y/n, this is Bucky we’re talking about. He wouldn’t do that

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of Bucky’s voice again. “Please doll. All you have to do is open the door. I’m not leaving until you open the door.”

You shuffled over to the door and unlocked it, opening it to see Bucky stumble, as he had been leaning on your door. He looked relieved and then he saw your red puffy eyes and his face settled into a sad smile. You stepped back and jerked your head towards your room, silently inviting him in. 

He stepped in and you closed and locked the door behind you. You crossed your arms and tried to keep your gaze anywhere but on Bucky who stood in front of you. “Hey,” he said. You finally looked at him and let out a breath, before looking away again and wiping your face of the tears, which were quickly replaced by fresh ones.

He stepped forward and lightly grabbed your chin and guided it to meet his eyes. When you tried to look away again he gripped it more firmly, but not as to cause pain. Looking you in the eye, he said “Please let me in.”

And that much was enough to make you break. You swayed on your feet a little before Bucky grabbed you by your elbows, concern written all over his features. You started crying harder, and he pulled you into a hug. He wrapped his arms around you protectively, one hand on the back of your head and the other arm wrapped around your waist. You buried your head in his chest and tried to contain your cries but it was no use. He would whisper calming things to you, trying to help you calm down.

He didn’t know what could possibly cause you to be this upset. He knew that something was wrong, but he had never suspected that it would have been this bad. 

Out of nowhere, you pushed yourself back and ran your hands through your hair. You turned around and squeezed your eyes shut, fighting a war with your own thoughts.

He wants to help

No he doesn’t

He understands

He’s just going to leave

He wouldn’t

He couldn’t

He can’t…

Bucky watched you, unsure of what to do. Your anxiety was increasing, and your breathing became heavy. Trapped inside of your own head, you kneeled down on the floor and began pulling at your hair. Bucky kneeled down in front of you. “Y/n - Y/n. look at me, doll, I need you to look at me.” You opened your eyes when you felt Bucky grab your wrists and pull them away from your head to prevent you from hurting yourself. You looked around before looking back at him. “I need you to breathe with me, okay? Just try to match my breaths, alright? You’re safe with me,” 

You weakly nodded your head and tried to match his breathing. At first you weren’t able to, still wrapped in a full blown panic attack. But after a few attempts, you were able to draw out your breaths a little more. He kept repeating “I’m here, you’re safe. After a few minutes, your breathing had returned to normal. You kept your eyes averted, embarrassed by what had just happened. You never let anyone see you cry, never mind have a full fledged panic attack. You went to cover your face, but Bucky still kept a hold on your wrists. “Stop, don’t try to hide. You don’t have to hide from me. Please Y/n, tell me what’s going on? I swear I just want to help.” 

You look away and close your eyes, whispering “You’ll just leave…”

Bucky tilted his head and brought his eyebrows together in confusion. He was preparing himself to hear many things, but that hadn’t been what he was expecting. “What do you mean? Why would you think that?”

You shook your head and looked at the floor. “That’s what everyone always does.”

He shook his head slightly. “Is that what this is about?” You glanced at him before nodding slightly. “Y/n, I need you to look at me when I say this.” he said. You hesitantly looked at him, and he said “You don’t have to hide from me. I know the people you’ve trusted in the past have always let you down. And because of that you may not want to tell me what’s going on. But I want to help you, I want to know everything. And I promise you - I’d never leave you because of what you’re going through. And I know Sam and Steve wouldn’t either.”

Tears were falling again. You took a shaky breath before you said, “You have no idea how badly I want to say something every time one of you knocks on the door. I’ve just...I’ve spent so long pushing it down and hiding it because I’m so afraid if you really saw me, you’d run away.” You took another breath before shaking your head a little and letting out a laugh. “You see, you guys like being around me that I show you. But I know the difference between myself and my reflection. And I always wonder all the time if you knew the difference, would you still stick around.”

Bucky looked at you with sadness in his eyes. “Please, just let us in y/n. Let me show you how much I care. Nothing you could possibly say could drive me away.” He laughed a little.  “I wouldn’t leave even if you wanted me to.”

You laughed a little at that too. “Tell me what you’ve been running away from Y/n.”

You looked him in the eye to see that he was genuine. You took a few breaths to calm yourself before you spoke again. “My entire life, people have made me feel like everything was my fault. Things that would happen, mistakes I made...emotions I felt.” You swallowed before continuing, “When I was diagnosed with depression, I tried to talk about it. I really did. But people would either get weirded out or scared or something...I don’t know. Either way they always leave.” You said the last part shaking your head

“Every once and a while I go into these depressive episodes and I can’t hide it like I used to. So instead, I just...shut people out. I wanted to tell you guys, I really did.” You took another shaky breath before looking him in the eye again. “I just can’t risk losing you.”

He looked at you, face expressionless. He was searching for the right thing to say, but he couldn’t find it yet. You held your hands up and looked away, shaking your head. “Never mind, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything - God I’m such an idiot, I -”

“No no no, that’s not it at, it’s just - I’m just trying to find the right words to say.” He cleared his throat and said “That sounds so incredibly lonely to go through all on your own. I’m...sorry. But I need you to look at me.” You reluctantly met his gaze again. “Nothing’s changed, Y/n. nothing at all. I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere. Especially not over this”

You nodded, tears making a steady stream down your cheeks. “I’m sorry, Buck.”

He shrugged and gave you a smile. “Nothing to apologize for.”

You smiled back at him, before swallowing and dropping your gaze. “You don’t think….Steve and Sam, would they - ?”

“No,” Bucky finished for you. “Never in a million years would they dream of it.” He wiped straw hair out of your face. “We’re right here for you, whenever you need it, doll.” He smiled at you again and you nodded, smiling as well.

“Thank you. For everything.”

“No problem. Now, do you want me to tell them, or do you want to?”

Just as you opened your mouth, you heard 3 heavy knocks on the door, followed by, “Y/n? It's Steve and Sam. We just - we’re worried about you, okay? Can you please just talk to us?”

You looked at Bucky and stifled a laugh. “How about we both tell them?”

[much-obliged-timothy]

Whumptober #15

Devil May Cry - #15 - Possession 

I’m basically using Whumptober as an excuse to write awkwardly protective dad Vergil and I have no regrets 

*

“Watch your back,” Vergil said.

Nero didn’t even have to turn to shoot the demon running at him in the head. “Thanks, it’s my first day on the job.”

Vergil shot him a look. “You’re too cocky.”

“Me?” Nero said in disbelief. “Buddy, come with me. I think I saw a mirror back there.”

Vergil lowered the Yamato as Nero dispatched the last of the demons in the room. He ignored Nero’s taunt, and instead strode forward towards the next room.

He knew what Dante was doing. This was a mission either Dante or Nero could’ve easily handled on their own, but Dante had insisted on all three of them going, and then on him splitting off from the other two to tackle the demons infesting the building faster.

He was trying to make Vergil spend time with Nero. Bond over combat. 

But all this was achieving was making Vergil realize that his son was the worst possible combination of the twins.

It was infuriating. Even more so because he knew Nero was right.

“So what do you think this ‘anomaly’ is?” Nero asked, catching up to Vergil and falling into stride with him.

When they’d been contacted for the job, they’d been warned there was an anomaly amidst the horde swarming inside the building. Some type of mystery demon. 

“It doesn’t matter. Just stay on your guard and kill it,” Vergil said.

“Well, yea, that’s the plan. I’m still curious, though,” he said. When Vergil didn’t respond to that, he sighed. “He just had to stick me with you.”

Vergil grit his teeth but didn’t speak. How had his son, who hadn’t even been raised by either brother, become such a little clone of Dante? 

Except he wasn’t quite a clone of Dante. No, Vergil saw a very familiar anger and desperate desire in Nero. Nero wanted to be strong. He wanted to be powerful.

He wanted to be good enough.

Vergil stuck an arm out, stopping both of them. “Did you hear that?”

“There’s something in here with us,” Nero said, slipping his gun into his hand and looking around carefully. 

Wordlessly, they fell back-to-back, slowly turning in a circle as they scanned the room they were now in. Both were on high alert, looking for any sign of movement or life.

“There,” Nero hissed, pointing with his gun.

A shadow, in the corner of the room. It slithered away, disappearing into the darkness. They watched intently, cautiously backing away from the spot they’d seen it in to give themselves more chance to react if it charged at them.

And charge it did.

It lurched out of the darkness, a thin wisp of a demon, a black substance that seemed almost like smoke pouring off it. Vergil saw a flash of red amidst the dark mass of body, eyes most likely. They were fixed on him as the demon reached out thin arms.

“Vergil!” Nero cried, shoving him out of the way. Vergil shook himself and swung the Yamato at the demon. 

It was just a fraction quicker, dodging above the swing and riding the blade up to Vergil’s arm. Vergil tried to shake it off, but it clung to him and moved up to his face.

For a horrible moment, Vergil felt the demon inside him, filling his head with that awful smoke-like substance, his vision flaring as red as the creature’s eyes. He choked as the smoke filled his nose, his lungs, every bit of his body, consuming him.

And then his body shuddered, and the sensation was gone.

“Vergil!” Nero gripped his shoulder, eyes wide and alarmed. “Are you okay? Where did it go?”

“Nero, no! Get back!” Vergil snapped, moving to push him away, realization dawning on him.

But he wasn’t fast enough, and the demon surged out, latching onto Nero’s face. Vergil watched as it dissipated, slipping into Nero instead.

Nero’s eyes flashed red as he stumbled back, wheezing for air. His gun clattered to the ground, and he dropped to his knees, gripping his head, his whole body giving a violent convulsion before falling still.

Vergil readied his sword, just in case. “Nero?”

Nero slowly lifted his head. Red eyes met Vergil’s.

He’d heard of demon’s who could possess humans. His own demon blood must’ve been too strong for the creature to stay in his body, but Nero had more human in him than demon.

“You’re not human.” The voice coming out of Nero’s voice was not his own. It was deep, distorted. Nero rose to his feet and took a step towards Vergil. “What are you?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Vergil said, not backing down as it took another step towards him.

The demon looked down at Nero’s body, examining it. “He is not human, either.” He fell silent for a moment, then looked up with a grin that looked twisted and wrong on Nero’s face. “He is your son.”

“I cut his arm off. Don’t think I won’t cut his head off too,” Vergil said, his voice calm despite the sudden way his stomach churned. Could this thing get into Nero’s thoughts?

It took another step towards him, that twisted grin growing. “He believes you think him weak and unworthy. He was right. You could fend me off; he could not.”

Vergil tightened his grip on his sword. How the hell was he supposed to get this thing out of Nero without killing the boy?

It suddenly swung a punch at Vergil, who deflected with the Yamato out of habit. It gripped the sword, the blade slicing through Nero’s palm.

But the grin didn’t falter. “He feels all the pain. Not me.”

“It’s just payback for irritating me earlier,” Vergil said, but made no moves to yank the blade free. He’d risk slicing Nero’s hand in half if he did.

What should he do? This thing seemed to have a firm grasp over Nero’s mind. Was it even possible to get it out of Nero’s body without killing him?

He doubted killing Nero would even kill the demon. Likely, it’d just flee the useless body and search for another. Vergil could kill it once it was out of Nero’s body, but that meant killing Nero first.

And he couldn’t bring himself to do that. It was his best, and maybe only, option. But as he looked up at Nero, he just couldn’t convince himself it was worth it.

There had to be another way. Nero could fight this thing; he wasn’t fully human. He had a chance.

“You picked the wrong host,” Vergil said, leaning back a little. “If there’s one thing my son hates, it’s being called weak. You’ll regret that one.”

The demon’s grin stretched, but then faltered. It tightened its grip on Vergil’s sword, blood pooling on the floor beneath it.

“I’m not giving this body up,” it hissed. “It’s too powerful.”

But then it shuddered and released the sword, staggering back and hitting the wall. It clenched its bloody fist and drove it into the wall hard enough that Vergil heard the bones breaking.

“You’ll quiet down, you worthless hybrid,” it snapped. 

Vergil sighed. “That’ll do it.”

Sure enough, the demon let out an angry cry as Nero’s body convulsed. It fell to the ground, and the smoke began to pour out of Nero’s body, clearly struggling to stay inside him. His eyes flashed between red and blue, his hands digging into the floor as the rest of him jerked and spasmed alarmingly.

“Fuck- you!” Nero gasped.

He cried out in pain, and the smoke was torn from his body. Vergil didn’t give it a moment to fully form, instead striking at where he’d seen the red eyes in the mass.

The smoke withered away, and a lump of dark body fell to the ground. Vergil stabbed it twice more for good measure.

“Ah, shit,” Nero said, carefully cradling his broken hand against his chest. He was gasping for breath, his face horribly pale. “What was that thing?”

“A possession demon. Humans can’t fight them off,” Vergil said, kneeling besides Nero and taking his arm, examining his hand. “Can you still fight?”

Nero yanked his hand away. “I can fight with just one hand. My father sure helped me practice that.”

Vergil managed not to wince, and settled for glaring. “Then let’s keep going. I’ll assume that was the anomaly, but we still have to clear out the hordes and meet back up with Dante. Let me splint your hand.”

“I can do it myself,” Nero said, sitting up, his face that stubborn expression that said he’d inherited more from Vergil than Vergil wanted to admit.

“Let me do it. I can do it faster,” Vergil said, matching the stubborn expression.

He didn’t give Nero a chance to argue. Instead, he searched the room for something to use as a splint, and got to work tending to Nero’s hand. His movements were precise but careful.

He stood up when he was done, and Nero got to his feet as well. Blood was already starting to stain the makeshift bandage on his hand, but he ignored it and picked up his gun. 

Vergil headed for the nearest door, but slowed as he approached it. The demon’s words rang through his head.

He put his hand on the doorknob. “It took strength to expel that thing from yourself. Well done, Nero.”

He couldn’t bear to look at Nero’s expression, and instead let himself through the door. If he had looked back, though, he would’ve seen the faintest flicker of hope in Nero’s eyes.

Nero had heard Vergil refer to him as his son to the demon. He did recognize Nero, as both his son and as a capable fighter.

It shouldn’t have mattered so much. But it did.

With a newfound determination, Nero followed his father.