#you’d think after four years there’d be nothing more to think about AND YET-

[myname-isnia]

Me, thinking about my OCs, like I always do: Oh, isn’t it ironic how so much of Suiren’s character and personality is built around the fact she’s so similar to her mother and how her relationship with that fact changes, and she will end up falling for an earthbender who excels/specialises in a subbending form

Also me, five minutes later, physically sitting up in bed: AND MIDORI ENDED UP FALLING FOR A NONBENDER TURNED AIRBENDER JUST LIKE HER AUNTIE HOLY SHIT-

[icallhimjoey]

In 120 Hours

♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You work as a temp and are offered a very exclusive interview for a very exclusive job. You see, someone needs a personal assistant for a very eventful week, and you happen to be the perfect fit.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, drinking, rpf, fem!reader

Author’s note: part four! this is where we get unprofessional, but, you know, it's not just you. for all my new readers, know that my joey is soft joey first and foremost - if you were waiting for some filthy smut, im sorry to disappoint!

Wordcount: 4.5K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

At 6AM sharp you grabbed the remote control from Joe’s bedside table and turned his TV off before placing a cup of coffee down.

“Get up, Joe,”

You were still in pyjamas yourself, bedhead, barefooted, voice groggy and sleep still stuck in the corners of your eyes. On your way out of Joe’s bedroom, you said, “We’re leaving in about thirty minutes,” and then didn’t get a response.

You stopped in the doorway, looked back and couldn’t help but imagine what sleeping in that big bed with Joe would be like. The bed looked like it was a twelve-year-old Ikea piece that had been taken apart and put back together too many times - like it would wobble unsteadily any time someone in the bed would turn over. Good thing his new bed was coming in today.

You found the switch for the big light, slapped it, and flushed the room with bright white, hurting your own eyes as well as probably Joe’s.

“Joe?”

Then a thumbs up shot up from the big pile of white duvet, and you scoffed, huffed a laugh, and said “Coffee’s on your bedside table, we’re having breakfast at the shoot.”

In the car on the way over it was quiet. You were both freshly showered, and you’d even had the time to blow dry your hair, but it was still early, and the both of you were still tired. You imagined it was mostly because of the loud TV – there was no way Joe was getting any better sleep than you were with that thing blaring. At least your new earplugs worked just fine and you’d managed to get a lot more sleep than the night before.

The morning felt a little heavy, because with all the driving around London, getting to see so much of it, you had started thinking about why you hadn’t actually moved back yet. Memories of your ex wanting to move away, back to his hometown, his estranged nan dying and leaving him the house... it felt like you’d hit the jackpot at the time. And your family was relatively close too, so it was fine. But you’d had real withdrawal symptoms from leaving the city, and now that you were no longer actually with him, you tried to think of reasons why you’d bought a flat in his hometown after you broke up, but you came up empty.

“Are you all right?”

You looked at Joe whose eyebrows quirked, giving away a polite bit of worry.

“There’s going to be a lot of deliveries today, I’m doing mental math to figure out how I’m going to do this,” you lied in truths. “And I’m really hungry.”

Joe was asked to go to a workshop after the photoshoot, just for an encouraging word, nothing insane, but it meant you were going to be rushing a bit. After the appearance at the workshop, there’d be a phone interview, and then there’d be another screening.

Joe sighed.

“I don’t want to be rude and skip it, but, I kind of want to skip the film screenings today,”

“You’ll still have to go to be seen, talk to some people,”

“Yea, don’t really want to do that either,”

You paused, looked over Joe’s schedule, at how many things there were, saw that tomorrow was his film premiere with the Q&A straight after, and then the day after that, the awards ceremony. You understood the want for a short break, looked at Joe and said, “Let’s have breakfast first, before you make any rash decisions,”

But then Joe smiled wistfully, and you knew this wasn’t a rash decision at all.

Fine.

You could come up with a vague excuse for him, no problem.

A busy morning passed you by, and you'd made a deal with Joe’s driver. You said he could have the evening off if he would go back to Joe’s house to sign for furniture deliveries, and then you’d call if you needed him to come pick you up and bring you somewhere else.

A tricky deal because this was power you definitely didn’t yield. But Joe had said he didn’t want to go to the screenings, which effectively meant that he wouldn’t need to be brought anywhere from the workshop forward.

You were lucky the driver seemed to like you, with a sneaky wink and a small smile, the driver dropped you off, accepted the front door key you handed him and drove right back to Joe’s address.

And then you spent the whole photoshoot on the phone to him, because the men moving the furniture in had also been paid to place all pieces in the correct rooms, and then when you heard the driver walk up all the stairs, you felt like you were crossing a thousand boundaries letting all these people into Joe’s house without you or Joe being there.

“They want to take the big bed out of the master bedroom,”

“Yea sure, can they disassemble it and leave it in another room on the first floor? Just so it’s out of the way. We can maybe use it for another guest room, or whatever, don’t let them take it away. Wait. They can take the mattress; can they take the mattress? There’ll be new ones coming in. Not having to haul that thing off ourselves will be a huge help.”

“Yes, ma’am,”

You crossed your fingers that everything would work out fine, and that you weren’t going to walk into a huge unfixable mess of a house later that day.

Joe basically had a full day of picture taking. The shoot was obviously very camera heavy, but the appearance at the workshop was basically a fan meeting in and of itself. It was all teenagers who either already went to film school, or really wanted to go to film school, and Joe was the only big celebrity that people who weren’t into film would also recognize in a selfie. So, they all wanted selfies, and who was Joe to tell them no?

On the way back to Joe’s house in the late afternoon, you asked him if he wanted to do the scheduled phone interview, and just when Joe was about to say something snarky about you asking him if he wanted to, you had the phone already ringing for him.

Joe narrowed his eyes at you with a small sneaky smile, and started a mild insult, “You little– hello!” but wasn’t able to finish because someone picked up on the other end. You grinned, couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your throat, and this time, Joe didn’t grab your knee to squeeze, but his fingers found your forearm to scratch before he focused all his attention on the lady on the phone who asked him questions about previous and upcoming projects.

Deep breaths, everyone. It was just a scratch. One that made your belly somersault, but you know, t’was just a little scratch. Nothing major. Shit. You had to calm down.

When you rounded the corner into Joe’s street, it was time to face the music. See what state the house was left in by the delivery men.

Downstairs in the living room, there were three rolled up rugs, still in its plastic packaging, a new TV unit, another sideboard that was meant to become a little bar area for Joe, and there were large ceiling lights, still in their boxes – no sofa yet. In the dining room, next to the clothing racks, were ten dining room chairs, lights and a long shelf – no table yet.

You knew upstairs Joe’s new bed would’ve been delivered, and you were about to tell him about it, but stepping into the kitchen you could see Joe hunched over the counter, reading a script, and munching on a banana.

When he saw you, he looked up and asked, “Do you mind if I go sit in your room to read this?”

Your room.

“Of course not, go ahead, it’s your house.”

And Joe left you alone. Which was great actually. It’d give you time to unpack furniture, drag things into their right spots and, you know, see your vision come to life a little. You texted Joe’s management a weak excuse for Joe not going to the film screenings or the industry happy hour that day and got to work.

At 6PM you called, “Joe, you hungry? Should I order some food?” up the stairs. You heard movement, saw him appear at the top and he said, “I’ll cook us something,” as he made his way down.

You watched him jog all the way down, and when stood next to you at the bottom, he gave you a confused look, asked, “What?”

You looked down at his hands.

“How are your wrists doing?”

Joe looked down as well, rotated both hands, completely unsure of what you meant.

“Because you’ve got a lot of signing to do tonight,”

About two hours later, all furniture had been unpacked, all plastic and cardboard had been sorted and taken out, Joe’s clothing racks had found a new home in an empty room upstairs and you had both eaten a beautiful home-cooked meal.

Because there was no sofa and no dining table yet, the two of you found yourselves on the floor, laid out on one of Joe’s new rugs. You were passing Joe photographs of himself in costume, one by one, and Joe signed the same squiggly ‘Joe’ on all of them, laying on his side, hanging into one of his shoulders.

It was boring assembly line work. But there was wine. A lot of wine. And music. Although, you had real strong doubts about the playlist Joe’d put on, but whatever, people liked different things. It was fine.

“If someone had told you five years ago that you’d be signing five thousand pictures of yourself the night before your film would premier at the London Film Festival, would you have believed them?”

“The person I was five years ago was a lot more confident than you’d think,” Joe said, having a sip of wine, giving his hand a 5 second break from holding the sharpie before getting right back into the routine. Dangerous game this, having red wine on a brand-new rug.

“I probably wouldn’t have believed them, not deep down, but I would’ve definitely pretended they’d been right,” Joe continued.

“Sort of, blind confidence, you’d have been like, me? oh yeah,”

“Yea, me? famous in five years? yes, absolutely,”

You both laughed.

You had a nice rhythm going, working in a big triangle. You would slide a photo over to Joe from his left, Joe would sign it, and slide it away from him to your left, where they all gathered in a huge pile that you’d later organize into neat stacks to go back into the boxes. But there were so many photographs, you’d no idea how you were going to finish them all with tomorrow and the day after being busy days.

“You’re a fidgeter,” Joe suddenly said, and you immediately stilled your fingers and balled your hands into fists.

“I’m a fidgeter?” emphasis on the I, you reached for your wine and took a sip, giving Joe some accusatory eyes. You’d seen Joe fidget his way through his days – thumbs finding the underside of his rings, teeth biting into the skin of his lips, sweaty palms being rubbed over his knees, whatever there was left of his nails scratching into his scruff... you wondered if there was anything left of the confident Joe from five years ago he’d just described.

“I’m not saying that I’m not, I’m just saying that you clearly are too,”

You looked at your hand – at your ring, and kind of wished it would’ve just reminded you of your grandmother by now, but it didn’t. Of course, it didn’t. Would it ever?

“That’s a nice ring,” Joe observed, making polite conversation, but carefully, because your face would do this thing whenever you looked at it, or touched it, and Joe didn’t like how he’d lose you for a second.

“Thanks, it um... it used to belong to my grandmother,”

And that’s when Joe thought he understood.

“I’m so sorry,”

You looked up and saw two ridiculously empathetic eyes look at you, displaying far too much pure, raw emotion, especially because it was totally misplaced, too.

“Oh no, she’s alive still. Very alive. Probably making a poor kid behind a bar somewhere cry because he’s mixed her drink wrong,” you chuckled, but it died quick, got stuck in the back of your throat somewhere as it constricted. And Joe didn’t speak, which, honestly, if he’d really been this kind dude that he was portraying to be, he would’ve said something by now so you didn’t feel the need to fill the silence yourself.

But he didn’t. And now you were going to have to share personal information about yourself.

You waited a second longer, looked at Joe to see if maybe he was going to say something, but he’d stopped signing, even capped the sharpie, and just looked at you.

Fuck.

“No um, so, this used to belong to my grandmother, and then she gave it to my boyfriend to propose to me with it, and he did, but then, that... we didn’t work out, so, I’m not engaged anymore, but I can’t give the ring back to him, can I? It used to be my nan’s!”

You were rambling a little, not making eye contact as you reached for the bottle of wine to refill your glass. Surely Joe had left it out here because the expectation was that you were going to finish it, right?

“My nan’s, not his... so I turned it into a normal ring, started wearing it on another finger, and now I... I kind of wear it to prove to myself that it’s something that ties me and my nan closer together, and it's not, you know, the engagement ring my ex-boyfriend gave to me,”

You moved the bottle over to Joe’s glass, and he gave it a small nudge to get it closer to you for a top up.

“But it just, it obviously just reminds me of him all the time... I’ve convinced myself there’s going to be a moment where it won’t, and maybe that will actually be the case, at some point,” you were talking with your hands, waving the bottle around and it made Joe reach a fearful hand over. That was red wine, and you were on a new rug.

“Oh, sorry,”

You knew how expensive this rug was, too.

“Go on,” Joe said softly, as he silently slid your glass away from you a little too.

“No, um, yea...” You shook your head to get back on track. “It’s not been that long anyway, so who knows. I don’t want to give up on it yet, it’s just stupid that it was an engagement ring before it was anything else to me, you know?”

Joe nodded, asked, “How long has it been?”

“About a month and a half,”

“Since you broke up?”

“Um no, since I secretly bought myself my own flat.” You huffed out a laugh. You knew it wasn’t funny, but you also knew that you sounded like a clinically insane person.

Joe didn't look at you as if you were crazy, but he also didn't say anything.

“I knew,” you squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. “I knew it wasn’t going to work out. I should’ve never said yes, I should’ve never – honestly, I should’ve never even moved out of London for him, but you know... things happen.”

You slid another photograph of Eddie over to Joe, and it prompted Joe to uncap this sharpie again, sign the one that was still in front of him before moving onto the next. Slower pace now though.

“I only ended the engagement last week,”

“You had your own flat for over a month and he didn’t know?”

“Yep. No clue.” you smiled a painful smile, then cleared your throat. “So, that’s why I’m single.”

Another photo for Joe. Another sip of wine for you.

“What about you?”

“Why am I single?” Joe’s eyes shot up at you, a little playful smile underneath.

“Why do you fidget, you idiot,”

Joe laughed.

“But sure, that too. What’s got you all fucked up inside?”

Joe then grinned, silently signed a few more photographs, then took a deep breath and closed his sharpie again before leaning down further, head now supported by his hand.

“At the risk of sounding like the biggest twat ever,”

“Okay wait,”

You moved, positioned yourself to lay on your stomach, feet up behind you, leaning heavily into your shoulders, ready to listen.

“I’m ready, go,”

Joe laughed silently, then nodded to himself, and said, “You know how fizzy drinks, sparkling drinks, how they go flat if you leave them out long enough?”

Fantastic. An actor using a metaphor.

“Yes,”

“That’s kind of... that’s kind of what tends to happen with me. I’ll really like something, or someone, and then... it loses the bubbles. And I don’t like coke without any bubbles in, you know? I’d rather not drink it, just, get something else instead.” Joe groaned as he heard himself say it. “I don’t mean, I don’t – you know, I don’t shove someone out and just get someone new in immediately, that’s not...” Joe didn't finish the sentence.

You looked at Joe for a second, then clicked your tongue.

“Easy fix, you’ve just got to stop going around and leaving bottles uncapped,”

And Joe laughed. Threw his head back and let the rest of his body follow, rolling onto his back, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him. “What? Tell me I’m wrong!” you challenged him.

“Well, I can’t keep all the bottles closed the whole time either, can I? I’ve got to fill up some glasses,”

Joe was slowly losing you with this metaphor.

“Sure, so, fill up a glass, put the cap back on, and back in the fridge it goes!”

A more tentative silenced followed next. Joe flipped back onto his side and reached for his wine.

“Or maybe we could just have wine forever.”

Your conversation carried on, and you talked about all different kinds of things. Joe had you explain the full vision you had for the room you were in, had you dart around gesturing where the sofa would go, which light had to be hung where, what paint colours to use for each wall, which Joe had to get painters in for, because these ceiling are too high to do that safely yourself, buddy. And Joe said he loved it, but you didn’t believe him, because Joe didn’t seem like the guy who could visualize the way you could. He’d confessed being bad at that when it came to his outfits, how was he ever going to convince you that he could do it for his interior? But fine. You could accept a compliment, even if it didn’t mean anything. They were kind words anyway.

When you finished the bottle of wine, Joe asked what time you needed to wake up tomorrow, and it wasn’t until 10 that a stylist would come over with clothing for the premier, so you said 9AM and Joe promptly opened the second bottle before sitting back down and filled up both your glasses once more before getting back into signing.

There was a brief moment where Joe tried to teach you how to forge his signature so you could help, but it was very obvious which ones you’d done, so that plan was quickly given up on.

And when that second bottle was nearing its end as well, somehow, the conversation lulled back onto singledom, and you talked about how being single was actually really quite nice.

You had all this time to yourself, no one to answer to. The place would actually be quiet for once. No mess from other people to clean up after – fully ignoring your current temp job in the moment, you’d been cleaning up after Joe all evening – and no person to yell at you for making a mess.

But then it quickly took a turn, and you both became sarcastic.

“It’s great having dinner by yourself all the time,” Joe spoke into his glass.

“Waking up in empty beds is so fine,” you gulped your last sip down.

“Going out and being the only single one in your group of people is not weird at all,”

“13th wheeling is so fun, isn’t it?”

“Oh, the best,”

“It’s great reaching for a hand to hold in bed and finding that the only other hand in there is your own other hand,” you said, and Joe winced at that, laughed because that felt too real.

“And it’s easy to fight off any loneliness by just turning on the TV to pretend there’s people around and you’re not so fucking alone all of the time,”

And you gasped a sad breath, making Joe freeze just as he was about to take his last sip, and he pointed a finger.

“No, don’t,”

“Oh no... you have that TV blaring because...”

“Don’t,”

“Because you’re lonely?” Your eyebrows couldn’t possibly knit together any further. “Joe, that’s really sad,” you said, but you burst out laughing straight after.

“Yea, well,” Joe emptied his glass, let the last bit of red slide down his throat. “At least I don’t hold my own fucking hand in bed,”

You erupted into full belly laughter. Just, raw joy from the deepest pits within you. It all bubbled up and out, and you laughed until you couldn’t anymore because it started to hurt your stomach too much. You were tipsy, sure, but you hadn’t been able to laugh at yourself like this in ages. Felt great. Sort of cleansing, in a way.

You’d not even gotten through half a box of photographs.

Time for bed.

There was something nice about tidying up before bed, moving things into the kitchen, turning off all the lights and walking up the stairs together. You said goodnight as you walked into the guest room, and Joe made his way up another flight, but you’d only just taken your socks off when Joe called down for you.

“Um... I think we have a problem?”

Joe’s bed.

You ran up the stairs and found Joe, staring at his new bed. Flat-packed, still. There were dressers, nice armchairs, and bedside tables too. But all still in boxes. Wrapped in plastic. New mattresses nowhere to be found.

Shit.

You’d forgotten all about Joe’s bedroom, and the two of you just stared at it for a moment, trying to think of what to do.

“Take the guest room,” you suddenly said, opting a very sensible solution. “I’ll go... I don’t know, find a hotel to stay at for the night,” But then Joe was already scooping up his pillows that had been left in a pile on the side, and said, “Or, we could pillow-wall it?”  

After asking maybe fifteen times if you felt comfortable, if you were okay with this, if you really were fine, which, “Yes, Joe, shut up, this bed is massive, I won’t even feel it if you turn,” you were in bed together with Joe’s pillows strategically placed in between you underneath the covers. Like you were children who both thought the other was gross and touching each other in your sleep would be the death of you. It was fine. Cute even, but you kind of wished they weren’t there. They had to be. Obviously. You were his PA. Ew, gross. Were you getting paid to sleep in the same bed? Technically you were, weren’t you? Disgusting - that was a thought to push down immediately and to forget about forever.

You were right about the bed, though. It really was wide enough for you to move around freely and not have it be weird. But, you know, it was still a little weird. And you were both a little awkward about it, so you found solace in humour as you got comfortable in the dark.

“If someone had told you a five years ago,” Joe started, and already had you giggling. “That you’d be sleeping in the same bed with me, would you have believed them?” Joe asked, and you could hear how he tried to hold back his own giggles.

You were two ten-year-olds at a slumber party, that's exactly what this felt like.

“You were nobody five years ago,” you laughed. “I would’ve gone, who?”

“Who the fuck’s Joe Quinn?” Joe said in a high-pitched voice.

“I’d also probably say, that won’t ever happen, I would never let my boss talk me into bed with him,”

“Oi, fuck off,” Joe laughed. “I’m only here because you fucked up,”

Oof, shots fired over the pillow wall.

“I’m sorry there’s no TV in here for you to deafen your own sad thoughts with,” you fired right back.

“Good night,” Joe spoke sternly, and then you both laughed until silence took over.

“Good night,” you then said back in a softer tone of voice and turned over onto your side. Joe yawned, said good night in a nice way too, indicating that it really was time to sleep now. No more chatting, no more joking. Just silence, and sleep.

You didn’t know how much later it was when you suddenly snapped out of thought – one of those moments where you were like, oh I’m still awake? I could’ve sworn my thoughts were dreams – by something touching your wrist.

“Stop fidgeting,” you heard Joe whisper drowsily, his voice muffled by duvets and pillows. He’d snuck an arm over to your side and let his fingers wrap around your wrist. Almost in a reflex, you twisted in his grip and took hold of his wrist too.

You laid like that for a little while, until you had the thought that, if you were to fall asleep, your grip would loosen and you’d lose each other. You didn’t know why that pained your chest the way it did, but it was enough for you to move your hand down, fit it into his, and Joe followed your lead as your fingers laced together. You inhaled a sharp breath, and you felt Joe squeeze tightly. You could cry at how comforting this was.

“Don’t let go of it,” you whispered into the dark.

“I won’t.”

And without trying to overthink about how you’d gotten here, which steps you’d taken throughout the past three days that lead up to this moment, you fell into a deep sleep, sunk all the way into the plush softness of the bed, holding hands with Joe, with only fifty-six hours on the clock still.

—

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @sadbitchfangirl @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks

@figmentofquinn  @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie  @munsonmunster  @kellysimagines  @mybffjoe  @chaoticgood-munson @jenisnotlost  @sherrylyn628  @bdpst-massacre  @05secondsofsexgods  @lovelyblueness  @adoreyouusugar  @nadixq  @prozacandnicotine  @munsonswhore86  @alwayslindie

@thefemininemystiquee  @hauntingbastille  @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland  @pepperstories  @phyllosilicate-s  @thebellenouvelle  @luvrsbian  @joesquinns  @choke-me-joey  @alizztor  @thelostmoonofpooosh  @did-it-work  @capricornrisingsstuff  @quinnsbower  @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986

(taglist currently full, sorry)

[rogersevans]

it’s you.

Summary; It’s always been him. You’ve just never noticed it before, until it was too late. One confession in a heated moment changes your entire relationship with Steve. 

18+ Content Below the Cut, Minors DNI.

masterlist

“Fuck, Steve.” You moaned out as his hips snapped against your ass, the salacious sound filling the outdated motel room and mixing with his short and breathy grunts, driving you to the edge.

“That’s it, fuck.” The grip on your hips tightened, knowing there’d be bruises left there in the morning, but you didn’t care. “You’re taking me so well, Peach.” He praised, his bare chest meeting your back as he leaned over you, his breath hitting the back of your neck, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear and creating a swooping feeling in the pit of your stomach, your heart practically swelling at his praise. “My good girl.” A soft, high-pitched whine fell from your lips when he punctuated his words with several hard thrusts.  

You don’t remember how this situation started, but after a particularly hard day in a new country on the hunt for his best friend and almost getting shot in the process you found yourself in Steve’s bed, the smell of whiskey on his breath clouding your judgement as he pressed himself into you for the first time. Unknowing that he would be forever imprinted on you.  

It was a mistake, two friends blowing off steam and fulfilling each other's needs. Nothing about it was romantic. You remembered how your bodies stuck together, the sweat gluing you together, his teeth scraping against your neck creating a delicious burn. It was fast and hard, both reaching your highs quickly.  

The next morning you’d snuck out, not wanting the awkward conversation. The realisation that you’d just slept with your friend of 10 years hitting you like a ton of bricks.  

You didn’t think it would happen again, just an embarrassing memory, a funny story to laugh about later down the line.  

Until the next night when he broke into your motel room in the dead of night and took you again, over and over until the sun started peeking through the curtains. Taking your body apart inch by inch with every languid stroke of his thick cock hitting your cervix, to only put it together again when he cleaned you up after and dressing you in his shirt.  

That’s how every night after the first went. No words were spoken during the aftermath, it was never discussed outside the four walls of the dingy motel rooms.  

You had no problem being his release, allowing him to blow off steam, because that’s what you were doing. No matter how rough he got during or how soft he turned after, you knew it wasn’t something that could lead to anything.  

Not right now anyway.  

When the split happened, it was no question that you’d follow Steve. You didn’t even realise your body was silently answering the unasked question of loyalty until you took his hand and followed him out of the compound, Sam and Wanda in tow. Leaving the rest of your family behind without a single thought.  

You’d watch an entire city burn if it meant keeping Steve in your life, you’d kill for him.  

You had killed for him.  

It wasn’t a love thing- well, it didn’t start off as a love thing. Steve had been in your life for 10 years and had been the one thing that remained, never leaving and never wavering. The bond you both shared was something you only read about, something the group had picked up on within five minutes of you first meeting the super solider. Tony expected you to pick Rogers, he saw it coming before he saw the split coming.  

He was your soulmate, even if you didn’t know it yet.  

“Peach,” his voice sounded strained, the snap of his hips becoming more frantic. He was close, you could tell. You felt as his calloused fingers tips ran down the column of your throat, down the valley of your breasts, along your stomach creating that swooping feeling in your stomach again and finding your sensitive nub, running through your puffy, slick folds.  

“Steve,” you whined loudly, your head lolling to the side and finding his shoulder, exposing your throat to him.  

The low growl that rumbled in his chest, making your body thrum at the feeling, was feral, animalistic. Just like his need for you. “You feel- fuck you feel incredible Peach, wrapped tightly around my cock, so fucking tight.” He gritted the last part through clenched teeth, his hips never relenting, their assault sending every nerve ending in your body into overdrive. His eyes catching your reflections in the mirror on top of the dresser, his free hand falling to your stomach. “I can feel myself, right here.” He husked into your ear, another loud whine from you. “Watch yourself Peach.” He demanded so calmly, like he wasn’t currently taking you apart with both his fingers and cock right now.  

Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt yourself racing towards your high, the way his fingers expertly plucked, flicked and strummed your clit becoming too much.  

Then, all of that was taken away from you. Steve’s hips stilling, leaving him pressed to hilt inside of you and his cock twitching. His fingers no longer strumming you.

Your eyes snapped opened within seconds and your head lifted itself to turn and look over your shoulder at the blonde, but before you could open your mouth to speak the fingers that were marked with your scent and juices gripped your chin, turning you to face the mirror. His eyes were blown with lust, just a small ring of blue remained, his upper lips snarling.  

“Steve-”

“I gave you an order, Peach.” He snapped, pulling his hips back only to snap them forward, surging you forward only for his grip to tighten and bring you back flush against his chest. “What was that order?”  

You opened your mouth to speak, but words fizzled on your tongue. Your eyes never leaving his in the reflection of the mirror.  

“Come on, don’t tell me you’ve gone dumb on me now Peach. Too full of me to remember anything but my name?”  

“St-Steve.” You whined out again, your skin feeling hot as you teetered on the edge of your release. You watched as the hands resting on your stomach moved lower, painfully slow. Your hips following his touch and arching forward.

“So responsive to me.” Thrust. “Like you were made for me, and only me.” Thrust. “You’re shaking Peach.” Another thrust, the scream that ripped through your throat had him smirking and smug. His nose trailing along your jaw line, his teeth nipping there shortly after. “My dumb baby.”  

“Oh, fuck.” You breathed out, the peak beginning to rise again.

“You like that, Peach? Being called ‘baby’?” Only humming in response, he worked his fingers on your nub again, the heel of his palm pressing your stomach back into him as the speed of his hips increased.  

He only ever called you baby when he was buried inside you, making your toes curl each time and a warmth to spread throughout your entire body. Peach had been a name he’d called you after discovering your love for the fruit. The amount of Sunday mornings you’d dragged him to the farmers market to get a fresh basket, that he’d end up carrying because you’d get distracted by the other stalls there. But baby was a new one, and it had such an effect on you, he always felt how you clenched around him when he called you it. It drove him crazy every time.  

“Who knew you were a softie.” His voice remained its normal calm and authoritative demeanour, like he wasn’t currently fucking you senseless and turning you dumb, melting your brain. “Now, be a good fucking girl and watch me take you apart.”  

Your eyes never left his, the hand gripping your chin moved down to wrap around your throat, applying slight pressure, not enough to hurt you completely but enough to dance along that fine line of pain and pleasure. His thumb reaching up and tapping your bottom lip and without word or demand you opened your mouth a little more and wrapped your lips around his thumb when he rested it against your tongue.  

“Fuck, baby.” He groaned out, his forehead resting against the side of your face, his eyes fluttering closed. “One more baby, that’s all I need.” He assured you sweetly, his fingers tapping your clit sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. “No,” he tsked when he felt you shake your head. “I know you can Peach, just one more, I know you want to.”  

Your entire body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending sensitive to a slight breeze, your nipples so hard and sensitive they could cut glass.  

“Now, fucking cum. Make everyone in this damn motel know who’s making you feel this good.” He gritted, his teeth scraping against your jawline, the grip on your throat tightening slightly. His hips quickening their pace, the headboard rattling against the wall behind you. One more pluck of your tingling bud had your body spasming, convulsing and going rigid under his hold.  

“That’s it Peach, good girl.” He whispered, his lips finding your shoulder. “See how beautiful you look when you cum? It’s a fucking work of art.” Your entire body went numb, slumping against his rock-hard chest and being held there when both hands fell to your breasts, roughly squeezing them.  

“St-Steve, I-I-”

“Sshh baby, I know.” The feeling of his hips stuttering signalled he wasn’t far behind you. “Fuckfuckfuck,” he punctuated with every thrust until his hips stilled and the most delicious sound fell from his lips, your actual name shortly followed as he rode himself through his own high.  

A loud banging on the wall behind you brought you both back to reality, out of the post sex haze you’d both created. The scent of sex lingering in the air, bodies sticking to one another.  

“Now you’re both freshly fucked, would you care to join us in jet?!” Sam’s voice boomed through the walls, your cheeks turning a deep crimson at the realisation he’d heard everything. “Hurry the fuck up!” He boomed again, followed by another loud and final bang on the wall before you both heard him laugh and then his own room door shut, indicating he’d headed down to the jet left hiding in the forrest behind the motel.  

“Oh my god.” You squeaked, scrambling off the bed, ignoring the emptiness you felt when you withdrew from Steve and grabbing your clothes in a rush.

“Something wrong, Peach?” Steve drawled still on his knees on the bed, proudly displaying every inch of himself as he watched you scramble around his room, dressing yourself.  

“Yes,” you squeaked again. “Not only have you pulled orgasm after orgasm until sunrise and my body is thoroughly wrecked, when we have an important mission. But Wilson has the biggest fucking mouth, so that means Wanda knows, not to mention everyone in his fucking contact list.” You huffed out, blowing hair that had fallen over your face out of the way.  

“I didn’t hear you complaining. In fact, I believe you were begging me for more?” He smugly quipped back, now standing to his full height and dressing himself. “And Wilson will keep his mouth shut, if he knows what’s best for him.”  

You didn’t expect the wave of hurt his words left on you, stilling your movements as you watched him continue to dress himself. Was he ashamed of you? Were you his secret? You knew Steve was a private person, especially when it came to his love life. But he trusted Sam and Wanda with his life, with you. You’d only ever spoken two words to them both when you first left with them, but he trusted them to keep you safe, and you them.  

“What’s that supposed to mean?" You couldn’t stop the question from coming out, shocking yourself at how demanding your voice sounded.  

Steve’s brows shot up, his ocean like eyes meeting yours, instantly intimidating you. “Exactly what I said.” Was all he said, but his tone had returned to its emotionless and authoritative tone, irking you.  

“So, you fuck me in the dead of night but as soon as we step out of this room it's like it never happened?” You snapped, your hands falling to your hips, your blood starting to boil as the seconds went by.  

“You got something to say, Peach? Please, don’t hold back on my account.” When you remained silent, he continued, shaking his head as he spoke. “You knew the arrangement-”

“What arrangement?! Steve, we fucked once after one too many whiskeys and I was happy to leave it at that, a way of blowing off steam in this shitty situation. But then you kept coming back. It’s like you conditioned me that way, like I’m waiting for my mouth salivate whenever I hear the click of my motel door opening.” Steve’s scoff was loud and obnoxious, your skin prickingly with irritation making you scrub your hand over your face. “You’re such a self-righteous prick. I chose to leave with you-”

“It was your choice, don’t put that on me.” He spat at you, crossing the room in a beat and coming chest to chest with you. “I didn’t force you to leave with me.”  

“Just like you didn’t force me to fall in love with you!?” Your chest was now heaving, your cheeks completely flushed and your fists balling at your sides. The air in the room suddenly becoming thick and suffocating, the realisation and heaviness of words settling in. You watched as the colour from Steve’s face drained, his eyes going wide for only a second before he regained his composure.

You hadn’t realised it until this very moment, like it had been lying dormant inside of you until now. Suddenly, everything made sense. Too blinded by your friendship and the platonic bond you shared to realise you had fallen so far, so deep that he was practically imprinted on you.  

Always convincing yourself your bond was purely platonic and nothing more, just two people who were meant to be in each other's lives. And maybe it had been just that to begin with, but somewhere between going on the run, giving up your entire life for him and becoming familiar with each other's bodies, lost in each other’s touch.  

You fell in love with him.  

He pulled you in, feeding off of your dedication to him.  

The realisation winded you, knocking the breath out of you as you stood chest to chest. “Peach,” his voice was softer now, just above a whisper as his hand reached up to cup your cheek. But you backed away from his touch, suddenly wanting to be anywhere else than here. It wasn’t until your back hit the door, the knob of the door digging into your lower back, that you stopped moving.  

“I may have chosen this part of my life.” You finally spoke after a few minutes of thick silence, your throat bobbing up and down slowly. “But you, you didn’t consider what it would do to me. Knowing I would leave with you, before I’d even made that decision. I-I put my life on the line for you, we all did.” Even though your voice sounded calm, Steve noticed how your eyes started to well up. “I let you in. I became addicted to your touch, your presence, God- even your smell! Everything about you invited me in! I would watch an entire city burn for you, and you can’t even look in my direction when we step out of this room.” You scoffed, your eyes down casting to the floor.  

His name fell from your lips, it sounded so foreign to you. Already missing how he called you Peach. His own lip trembling as he took one small step towards you, but stopped when you flinched and reached for the door knob. “I didn’t know-” He tried assure you.

“Of course, you didn’t. Why would you? You had me where you needed me, under your thumb. Ready and awaiting instruction, Captain.” With a two-finger salute you turned your back on him and twisted the knob, the sunrise beaming through the smallest crack of the open door. “I’ll see you on the jet.”  

“Mornin’.” Sam beamed at you as you walked up the ramp of the jet, your bag on your shoulders and your arms wrapped around yourself. His frown fell when you walked past him and found a corner of the jet to sit and sulk in, dropping your bag at your feet and tucking your knees against your chest, resting your forehead against them. “Everything alright?”

“Peachy.” You mumbled, never lifting your head.  

“Sam, the jet ready?” Came Steve’s deep voice, cool and calm. His thudding footsteps drawing closer to you, a flicker of hope lit up inside you, hoping he’d come over to fix it or to talk. But that light died as quickly as it came when he walked straight past you, his shadow flying past you.  

“Yeah,” Sam cautiously answered, his eyes flicking between you and the blonde super solider, Steve’s jaw set and shoulders hunched. “Wanda’s just doing a check over-”

“Now.” He boomed, sitting in the pilot’s seat with a thud, wordlessly dismissing Sam.  

“What’s got you all doom and gloom?” Came Wanda’s sweet voice, her accent still thick and demeanour soft. Her touch fell to your shoulder, her thumb stroking it slowly.  

“Nothing Wanda, I’m fine.”  

“You know I can read minds, right?” Her tone now playful, giving your shoulder a small nudge.

“Then why ask?” Finally lifting your head for the first time in an hour, your eyes looked tired, mouth dry and limbs stiff from sitting in the same position.  

“Because, everyone needs a friend once in a while.” She chirped at you, blinking as she watched you stand and stretch all your limbs, twisting your neck so it would crack before rolling your shoulders.  

“Wanda, we’re not friends. We’re just two people who shared the same opinion.” You snapped, watching her face fall and instantly regretting it. The red head stood, smoothing over her shirt before nodding. Her expression turning cold. “Wanda-”

“Understood.” Looking past you she stepped around you and moved to sit beside Steve in the cockpit.  

“Great.” You muttered under your breath, rubbing your temple with your middle finger and thumb, groaning in frustration.  

You didn’t mean to snap at Wanda, it wasn’t her that you were angry at. It was Steve. Wanda had been a good friend to you over the past year, rooming with her in the motel rooms was something that helped knock down the walls of protection you both had built. The first few nights were spent in silence, both just lying in your separate beds and staring up at the ceiling.  

Then, one night, you’d caught her watching Family Guy on the TV in a different language, her brows knitted together in frustration when she couldn’t figure out how to return it back to English. After showing her how to fix it you spent the night talking, before this point you didn’t think much of the red head, just knowing that Steve and the team brought her back after the battle with Ultron, asking you to wipe her records and accept her as one of their own. Clint spoke about the twins fondly, you remembered how he would always have a glint of something in his eyes every time.  

“With the night you had last night, you shouldn’t be as irritable as you are.” Sam teased, holding out a bottle of water to you.

Taking the bottle from him you silently maintained eye contact, your eyes never leaving his as you took a sip. But he didn’t waver or back away, signalling he wasn’t giving up. You knew Sam was a talker, always trying to help people with their problems. Hell, he jumped on Steve’s side and helped him search for a Hydra Assassin who used to be his best friend without question.

Loyal. That’s how you would describe Sam Wilson.  

Sam had come to like you over the past couple of months, you could take a joke, sometimes even joining in. You put Steve in his place when he got too demanding with the group and you took him and Wanda in as if you’d known them for years, without question. Sure, you were quiet and distant unless Steve was around, that’s when you came alive. But Sam figured it was because of how comfortable you were around one another.  

“What do you want, Wilson?” You finally asked, twisting the cap back onto the bottle.  

“Wanna talk about what happened?”

“Nope.” Popping the ‘p’ you turned on your heels, grabbing your bag.  

“Does he know?” His question had you stilling, your face falling and your heartrate increasing. “I’m taking your silence as a yes and that you didn’t get the answer you were hoping for.” When you didn’t move still, he exhaled through his nostrils. “Just because you don’t move doesn’t mean I can’t see you.”  

Finally turning to face him you hold his gaze for long before it wandered around the jet, nervously shuffling on your feet.  

“It’s so obvious, to anyone who’s watching that is. I’ve known for a couple of weeks- you're not the quietest of couple-”

“We’re not a couple.” You snapped in defence, your glance casting over your shoulder to find Steve still sat in the pilot seat, listening to Wanda talk about strategies. “Definitely not a couple.” You said quieter this time, knowing Steve would’ve been able to her every word of this conversation.  

“Listen,” he started as you turned back to face him. “He’s got a lot on his mind, he’s constantly worrying about Bucky, and finding him. Not to mention he probably misses' home, feels guilty that we’re all here with him, that it had to come to this. Not to mention, he probably misses Tony.” The last sentence made a whisper of a smile appear across your lips, making him beam with pride. “But we won’t tell him that.” His hand fell to your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Just give him time to process, maybe another chance.”  

With that Sam left you alone with your thoughts, turning to face Steve and Wanda your breath hitched when you saw him staring right back at you, his blue eyes looking worried? The unfamiliar expression had you frowning in confusion, but before you could blink his back was to you again and he continued his conversation with Wanda as if he hadn’t stopped.  

You blinked at his back, unsure of what had just happened. You felt stupid, stood in the middle of the jet, staring at your best friend of 10 years, who you’d been sleeping with for the past 4 months and who you’d just admitted your feelings to. It all felt very, high school to you. But that didn’t stop your heart from hurting whenever you remembered the look on his face back in the motel, or how your heart still swelled whenever he looked your way after.  

You were fucked.  

Two weeks. That’s how long it had been since you and Steve had spoken, you’d followed Sam’s advice, giving him time and space, but you were becoming frustrated with the new dynamic. Normally attached at the hip, it took great strengths to separate the pair of you from one another, and the distance was starting to get to you. It was like an addiction. Steve was your heroin and you found yourself craving everything about him. At night you laid awake waiting for him to come through the door of the new dingy motel and thoroughly ruin you.  

You missed his voice and out of stubbornness you’d learnt to tune him out when he spoke. But when alone you found yourself craving to hear him speak, missing the way he called you Peach or even calling you by your actual name, anything at this point for him to acknowledge you.  

You’d apologised to Wanda straight away, hating that you upset her. It took you admitting that you’d never had a female friend before, other than Natasha, for her to understand. But Wanda wasn’t that angry with you, she knew how you worked and how you didn’t talk much about feelings with anyone else apart from Steve. She could see how the distance between you both was affecting you, noticing how you would watch him from your corner of the jet, your eyes hopeful whenever he walked in your direction, only for them to fall when he walked past you.  

She’d tried to talk to him about it, causally bringing it up, but she was met with a stern look. Steve had been giving those out like they were candies recently, like he had a permanent stick up his ass. It was driving Sam and Wanda up the wall, especially when they noticed how his eyes would soften for a brief second when you fell into his eyeline.  

His mood seemed to shift when Bucky came onto the scene, finally tracking him down. You and Wanda had been the ones to find him, tracking him down to a rundown apartment building. You’d have laughed at the comical moment when he came out of his bedroom, baseball bat and dressed in boxers when he heard you and Wanda breaking in. If the situation wasn’t as serious as it was. It took hours of convincing and ten missed calls from Steve but he finally agreed, something in the way you spoke about Steve, the conviction in your voice and the sparkle in your eyes whenever you said his name convinced him.  

You remember the way Steve’s eyes lit up when you finally showed up.

“Steve. Sam.” Wanda called softly, climbing the ramp of the jet, you and Bucky hot on her trail.

His quick and heavy footsteps were the only thing you could focus on, was he running? Then they stopped when he reached the edge, making you stop midway on the ramp. “You’re back.” You didn’t miss the way the corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly at the sight of you. You couldn’t stop yourself from wincing when you saw his phone gripped tightly in his right hand, remembering the missed calls.  

It was like no one else existed in this moment, like the entire world had disappeared as he stared down at you. Like the last week didn’t matter anymore. Your heart beating erratically at the thought and your body aching for his touch, to feel his arms wrap around your waist again.  

He took one large step forward, his mouth opening like he had something to say. But that died on on his tongue when another body crashed into you, not noticing that you’d stopped in the middle of the ramp. “Sorry,” he mumbled, clutching to the bag on his shoulders tighter.  

“Bucky?” The light in his eyes that you hoped was for you diverted onto his best friend, a wide grin starting to spread. “Holy shit.” He mumbled, now storming down the ramp and straight past you to take his best friend in his arms, holding him tightly. That ache in your chest only increased when he wrapped an arm around the brunette, guiding him onto the jet and forgetting about you.

It was a Friday night and the small team had decided to celebrate a successful day of taking down another Hydra base and fighting off the government. It had been a close call for Wanda, but it didn’t take much for her knock them on their asses with a simple flick of her fingers.  

Another dingy motel room, but this time you all shared one room, the victory bringing you together almost. You all sat in a circle on the floor, except Wanda who was lying on her front on the bed behind you, her chin resting on your shoulder.  

The air in the room was light, the lightest it’d been for a long time.  

Things felt normal. Just a group of friends blowing off steam after a hard work week.  

Your eyes would catch Steve every so often, linger for a couple of seconds before flitting around the group to not arouse suspicion, Sam being the only one to notice. Making you roll your eyes whenever he raised his brows and smirked behind his beer bottle at you.  

“Haven’t seen Steve this relaxed in a long time.” Wanda muttered to you, as you played with the ends of her auburn hair. She was right, he seemed... content. He was making a conscious effort to get involved with the group, but you suspected that had something to do with Bucky and Sam pressuring him to do so.  

Your hum in response was soft, your eyes still trained on the super solider as he laughed at something Bucky had said. That familiar warmth spreading through your chest at the sight, the sound was like hearing a song from your past for the first time in years, filling you with happiness at the memories of hearing him laugh whenever you made a bad joke, or the time you used his shield as a helmet to cheer him up. “Yeah,” you mumbled back “it’s nice.”  

“Has he spoken to you since-”

“No.” You coldly cut her off, taking a long swig of your beer. You didn’t want to still be affected by your last conversation with Steve, but the way his face fell when you told him how you felt was forever burnt into your retinas. “I need some air.” You stood from your seat on the floor, ignoring everyone's eyes suddenly on you. Swaying slightly from the five beers you’d downed since sitting down.  

Like he was tuned into your every move, Steve was on you before you regained balance. “Woah, Peach, you alright?”  

“I just need some air.” You muttered, shaking your head slightly to settle your vision.  

“You sure?” Warmth spreading from his hold on your shoulders, steadying you. A shiver running down your spine at the rasp in his voice.  

“With all due respect, Captain.” Snatching yourself out of his grip, your upper lip snarling. “That isn’t your problem anymore.”  

“Peach-” Steve softly called after you when you shoved past him and headed toward the door.  

“Give her a minute.” Wanda chimed in, now sitting cross legged on the bed, her bottle resting between her legs.  

The cold, autumn air hit you, knocking the wind out of you. You stumbled into the railing, resting your elbows on it as you leaned forward, your eyes looking over at the horizon, the orange sun casting a warm glow on your skin.  

Golden hour. Your favourite time of day.  

Memories of sitting on the field of the compound with Steve in summer, your kindle in one hand, his hand holding your other as he mindlessly played with your fingers. The picnic you both made long forgotten as you would read to him.  

You missed him.  

You missed home.  

“Golden hour.” The new voice interrupted your memory, making your eyes flutter open. “The only time the world looks peaceful.”  

“Something like that,” you whispered back.

You hadn’t spoken to Bucky much since he’d come back with you, he’d been too busy with Steve. But you figured he wasn’t one for talking, like you. Preferring the silence, comfortable in it. Something about him gave you a comfort vibe, maybe it was the way his stare intimidated many, but his eyes gave away how vulnerable he was. Or how soft his voice was whenever he spoke, a striking contrast to how closed off he was.  

“You doin’ alright?” He asked, shuffling closer to you and offering you his jacket when he noticed you shivering from the dusk air.  

“Yeah,” waving him off and wrapping your arms around yourself. “Just been a long time since we all sat and chatted like that.”  

“I get that, it’s been a long time for me to.” He mumbled, placing the jacket around your shoulders anyway. “Being around more than one person can sometimes be intimidating when you’re used to your own company. But everyone’s nice, Wanda can be weird and intense at times. But that isn’t a bad thing.” He shrugged, playing with the label of his beer bottle.

“Wanda’s been through a lot. She means well.” You defended, turning to look at him for the first time since he came outside. “I bet even Steve is different to you now.” You tried to ignore the way your heartrate increased at the mention of his name.  

“Nah, he’s still the same old punk he was back then, just beefier and taller.” You both shared a quiet laugh, the birds chirping nearby the only noise between you both. “He cares about you, you know.”  

An exasperated laugh fell past your lips, turning to face the horizon again. Not wanting to continue this conversation. Trying to ignore the burning feeling in your throat.  

“I know. It’s none of my business, and if I’m overstepping my mark then please, tell me.”

“You’re overstepping, Barnes.” You warned him with a small smile.  

“I’m gonna tell you anyway.” He teased, bumping his arm against yours.  

“Of course, you are. You know, you’re as stubborn as he is.”  

“Thanks.” He beamed down at you, like you’d just paid him the biggest compliment even if it wasn’t intended that way. “Sam told me what happened.”

“Wilson.” You grumbled, your jaw setting and eyes closing in frustration.

“I think you should speak to him, maybe-”

“Why?” You snapped, ignoring the taken aback look stretched across his features. “I said what I needed to say, made my feelings clear. Sam told me to give him time, I’ve done that.” A dry laugh escaped as you twisted your body to look at Bucky. “Tell me Barnes, have you ever had someone treat you like you’re the only person in existence one moment, worship your entire body, condition you to crave everything about them. Then,” the snap of your fingers made him blink in shock. “Act like you’re nothing to them the next?” His silence almost deafening to you, he watched with bated breath as you shook your head. “He fucked with my head, and I’m done.” With your final words lingering in the air, leaving the atmosphere thick and heavy. You spin on your heels and make your way back to the jet, deciding that spending the night on the uncomfortable benches would be better than having to face Steve again.  

The feeling of someone else's touch on you startles you awake, your arms going straight into defence mode and fighting off whoever it was.

“Hey, shh, shh. It’s me, Peach. It’s me. You’re safe, I’ve got you.” The deep raspy voice of Steve settled your rapidly beating heartbeat instantly, your eyes fluttering open to find him crouched before you and still dressed in his old and grey tattered sweats, and a plain white top. Whisps of his blonde hair falling out of place and over his forehead, your fingers twitched to comb it back into place.  

“Peach, baby,” his eyes softening and wide when he felt how cold you were, your body shivering. You ignored the way your heart swelled at the sound of him calling you baby. “You’re freezing, here.” He mumbled, throwing the hoodie he had resting in the crook of his arm over your body.

Not giving you chance to protest he scooped you up into his arms, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist, and made his way out of the jet and back towards the motel. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into his hold, craving the warmth that he radiated. His smell settling you and letting your eyes flutter shut again, your body exhausted and stiff from the uncomfortable sleep you’d just had.  

“Wh-what’re you doing?” You mumbled against his neck with your arms tightly wrapped around it. Your teeth chattering as you spoke, making Steve hold you tight to his body.  

“Taking you to bed.” He stated matter-of-factly, reaching a motel room door you thought was the one you stomped out of hours earlier. “You can’t, I won’t allow you to sleep in that jet.” With ease he plucked the room key out of his jean pocket and unlocked the door, kicking it open softly and walking in, making sure to kick it closed behind him.  

The room was dark, with only one bed in the middle. You may have had five beers before but you certainly remember there being two double beds and a sofa bed, you remember Sam and Bucky fighting over who got the sofa bed for the night. You also remember Wanda chaperoning a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors for it. Bucky winning best out of three.  

“Where is everyone?” Your question came out as more of a mumble when you spoke, currently fighting off the sleep that was taking over your body.  

“In the other room baby, I got a separate room for us- you.” It almost pained him to stop himself, his heart lurching out of his chest knowing he didn’t have the right make that claim anymore. He’d been subtly calling you baby, hoping you’d notice and you had. Your heart fluttering every time he threw it into the conversation. Like he’d been calling you it forever.  

It wasn’t until he placed you on the bed carefully, watching how you curled in on yourself, making yourself small. That he realised how much he’d fucked up, how hurt you were, how exhausted you seemed. He knew you’d been punishing yourself silently for how he reacted, blaming yourself for ruining your... situation.  

But he couldn’t blame you, it was all him. It all happened so quickly, it went from you both being on cloud fucking nine after pulling multiple orgasms from your body to you both chest to chest as you held back tears, admitting your love for him. It gave him whiplash.  

It’s not like Steve didn’t feel anything for you. He just didn’t know if it was love that he felt. You’d been his best friend, his other half for 10 years. Sure, the lines had begun to blur over the past few months as you explored uncharted waters with your friendship. But that didn’t mean he didn’t love you, it's all he could think about.  

It consumed him.  

Enamoured him.  

It was the reason he started coming to you all those months ago. Why he kept coming back every night, why he took his time taking you apart, why he started to stay after. He never wanted it to end, his heart sinking whenever the sun would creep in through the thin curtains. He wanted you like this every day, in nothing but his shirt, ready and waiting for him. You were his. You belonged to him. And he you.  

Before all of this he never questioned your friendship, if there was something more below the surface. Sure, Tony would tease him relentlessly claiming there was. Nat to. But he ignored them, thinking it was just his friend's poking fun at him. “Dude, you’re pussy whipped and you’re not even getting any.” Tony would say, Steve used to recoil at his crass way of words, but the more he thought about it, the more he agreed. “Please.” Nat would always start with when Steve would dismiss their ridiculous ideas of something more between you two, snorting as she smirked. “She’s your little shadow, it’s cute. I’ve known you for a long time Rogers, the longest relationship you’ve had since your little Peach came onto the scene was about a month-” and Tony would always chirp in with, “and that’s because your darling Peach didn’t like her!”  

But Steve learnt to ignore their comments, he’d always leave them to come and find you. Finding you always in the lab with Bruce or the library that barley anyone used. Your presence would calm him whenever they riled him up.  

He gravitated towards you, always.  

If Tony saw him now, he’d laugh and make a snarky comment about always being right.  

He missed them, he longed to pick up the burner phone and ring his old friend. He knew missed them to and that was his fault. You being here, was his fault. He took you away from your friends.  

That day when you and Wanda went missing for hours, he had fears that you’d gone back to them, knowing you hadn’t spoken in a week and how much you were beating yourself up, how much you missed him. He knew because he missed you to. His mind starting to race with thoughts of you back at compound, settling back into your life with everyone but him, like he never existed. He noticed Sam smirk to himself as he paced the jet, pulling at the ends of his blonde locks. But he chose to ignore his friend, like you chose to ignore his calls. Why were you ignoring him? You knew if he rang, it was an emergency.  

He’d never been so relieved to hear Wanda’s voice, he remembers his heart hammering against his ribs, blood rushing to his ears as he scrambled to the ramp. He needed to see you, needed to know that you’d returned. That you hadn’t left him. When he saw you all felt right in the world again, especially when he heard your breath hitch, the way he heard your pulse quicken at the sight of the disbelieved man before you proved you still cared. You still loved him.  

Then he saw Bucky. It was like his two worlds were finally colliding. You’d brought his best friend back to him. That’s where you were. You hadn't left him. You were helping him.  

Even after what he’d put you through.  

It was Bucky who said it first, Sam has been quiet to do so. Wanting him to get there on his own. But during one of their morning runs, that Bucky had now become a part of, his statement blurted between the three men left a heavy feeling of tension between them.  

“You fucking her?” The bluntness of his tone made the other two stop, Sam looking between them both, his hands resting on his knees as he caught his breath. The question had been burning on the tip of his tongue ever since he stepped foot on the jet. “Because it sure looks that way.” The brunette continued before Steve could open his mouth to protest. “I’ve seen the way you look at one another when you think the other isn’t paying attention.”  

That caught Steve’s attention. You looked at him? One glance in Sam’s direction confirmed his unspoken question, a quiet nod his only answer.  

“The day they found me, the way she spoke about you-”

“She spoke about me?” It was the first thing Steve had said all morning and he didn’t care how desperate he sounded. He hadn’t been able to sleep, like most nights without by his side. Missing how your soft snores would lull him to sleep.

“You were all she spoke about.” Was all Bucky said on the matter, turning to continue on their jog leaving Steve stood there as he blinked in shock at his best friend’s admission.  

“St-Steve,” your soft voice pulled him from his reverie, your fingers gently wrapping around his wrist, holding him place. His breath stuck in his throat as he watched your eyes flutter open, your lips parted slightly. “Don’t leave me.” You couldn’t stop the words from leaving you, the quiet plea barley echoed around the room and you thought he hadn’t heard you as he stood over you, his eyes flitting between your grip on his wrist and your lips.  

Only when you went to let go did he respond. Within seconds climbing over you, his chest pressed firmly to your back, his large arms wrapping around your middle tightly, his face nestled in the crook of your neck. Breathing you in, inhaling your smell. Legs tangled together.  

Both finally feeling at peace.  

Steve didn’t know what this meant for you both or what was going to happen. No more words were spoken that night. None were needed because as you both held each other, breathing in tune with other, every inch of each other touching.  

He had you back, and you him.  

For the first time since coming out of the ice, he felt at peace. You were his world now. His heart beat for you.  

Your name forever seared into his heart.  

[junghelioseok]

novae.

↳ what is grief, if not love persevering?

◇ hoseok x reader   ◇ angst | fluff(?) | time traveler!au     ◇ 1.8k [1/1]

notes: a polaris drabble, so please read that beforehand. summary is from wandavision, which i haven’t seen, but that line is everything and i got inspired! also, i am so not kidding about the angst!!! be warned!!! (and i’m not saying that you should listen to blue side while reading this but i’m also not not saying that, so....... do what you want 🤷🏻‍♀️)

warnings: not super edited bc i couldn’t handle it tbh, dealing with death and loss, i’m pretty sure this is the angst you were all afraid would be in polaris so sorry but there’s some cute stuff too i swear

You said goodbye to your husband yesterday. One final goodbye as you scattered his ashes to the wind, watching as they disappeared into the flurry of dry brown leaves spiraling into the river.

There’d been a wake, of course. Last week, at a modest little place on the outskirts of the city where you and your husband had made your home. You'd watched people come and go—friends and family and those acquaintances you never really knew but who all seemed to know your husband one way or another. They flowed on through, a seemingly never ending stream of dark-clothed mourners with good intentions and well-meaning words on their lips.

Thank you for coming, became your mantra after the first dozen or so. Yes, I'm fine. Sure, you can bring a casserole by the house tomorrow.

You really ought to put the casseroles in the fridge. They sit on the kitchen counter in a colorful array of dishes, wrapped in saran wrap and flecked with condensation from being packed up when they were still warm. You can see them from your seat at the dining table, as you tear your gaze away from the window it’s tucked against and prop your chin in your open palm.

The last of your family left yesterday, boarding flights and climbing into cars to return to their own lives. Your friends and neighbors offered their final condolences, before falling back into their own habits and routines. With their departure, you’re alone for the first time in what feels like forever, doing your best to pick up the pieces of your life. And though you have no more tears left to cry, there’s a rift in your heart that refuses to mend, the jagged edges of it digging into your lungs and ribs.

The house is cold without him by your side. That's what it is, now—a house, because you can no longer bear to call it home even if it doesn’t look any different than it did two weeks ago. The things that surround you—the worn couch and the novelty mugs and the patch of imperfect paint on the living room wall—they belong to you. The memories that well up when you look at them, they belong to you.

But they belong to him, too.

Your late husband’s presence lingers in everything around you. There's the faint dip in the couch cushion from decades of use—years of Netflix binges and late night cuddles and the occasional romp when the two of you couldn’t quite make it all the way to the bedroom. There’s the goofy cartoon sun that decorates your favorite mug—the very first one he'd gifted you all those years ago when you first started dating. There’s the memory of the laughter that creased his face when he accidentally leaned against the wet paint in the living room, his white t-shirt muddied with streaks of green. You'd fixed it, of course—done your best with the leftover paint scraped out of the bottom of the can. Doesn't have to be perfect though, he'd said with paint on his cheek. I think it's nice. Gives the place a little more character, you know?

Heaving a sigh, you push back from the table and wearily rise to your feet to put the casseroles away. But your fingertips have only just brushed one of the several ceramic platters lining the counter when there’s a sudden, loud thump from the living room.

“Damn it,” a voice says, and you freeze in your tracks, your heart skipping several beats. Your hearing isn’t what it used to be, but you’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Hoseo—” you begin, but the second syllable gets caught in your throat. Your husband walks through the doorway with a curious little smile, and your eyes well up with tears that you didn’t even know you had left.

“Hey, beautiful,” he says, coming to a stop before you and brushing a thumb across your cheek fondly. Then his expression sobers, as he takes in your misty gaze and the countless casseroles on the counter. “What’s wrong?”

This Hoseok is in his mid-forties, at most—several decades younger than you are in the present. There’s the barest glint of silver around his temples, a smattering of salt beginning to overtake the pepper of his hair, and you blink rapidly as your throat begins to well with emotion again.

“Hoseok,” you breathe. “Nothing’s wrong. You’re here.”

“I’m here,” he confirms. His palm caresses your cheek, and you lean into the touch as he pulls you close and into the warmth of his chest.

It’s been years since you last saw a Hoseok that wasn’t your own—a Hoseok that came from a time that wasn’t your present. Once the two of you moved in together in your twenties, Hoseok’s travels through time tapered off. The last time you’d seen him was about six years ago, when an eighteen year old Hoseok stumbled into the backyard while you were planting peonies and your Hoseok was at the grocery store. You’d offered him milk and cookies, and he’d been all too happy to accept. You remember that he’d been stressed about final exams, at the time.

And now, here he is again, older and wiser and thankfully not scratched up from appearing in the middle of your rose bushes. Pulling back from the embrace, you take in his face once more, your gaze roving across the wrinkles of laughter around his eyes and the familiar freckle above his lip. His hair, upon closer inspection, is damp, and gingerly, you reach up to trail your fingers through it.

“Rain?” you ask. “Or shower?”

“Shower,” Hoseok replies with a smile, intercepting your hand and pressing a warm kiss to your frail knuckles. “Seriously, I just barely managed to get dressed before I found myself here.”

A laugh bubbles up in your chest, escaping into the open air and easing the tightness in your throat. “It’s good to see you,” you murmur, smiling when he laces your fingers together and gives your hand a squeeze. “It’s so, so good to see you, Hobi.”

Hoseok chuckles and bumps his forehead gently against yours. “It’s good to see you too, babe.”

You laugh again at the term of endearment, smacking his chest weakly with your free hand. “Babe? I’m old enough to be your grandmother.”

“And yet, you’re as pretty as you’ve ever been,” he replies with a grin. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Slowly, your smile fades. You think of the casseroles, and the jar of ashes you’d scattered to the wind. You think of the little spoonful of ashes you’d saved, that now hangs heavy in a locket in the hollow of your throat. “Hobi, I—”

You trail off, and Hoseok’s expression softens. “It’s me, right? I’m… gone?”

“You—” Sniffing, you bury your face into his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his citrusy shampoo melding with the vaguely floral laundry detergent you both favor. Underneath it all is something that is distinctly Hoseok, something warm and comfortable and inviting, and you sniffle again when he reaches up to stroke along your back.

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispers into your hair, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. “You can let it out. You’ve been so strong, but you can let it all out now. It’s okay.”

“I don’t know what to do, Hobi,” you mumble into the sky blue cotton of his t-shirt, whisper-soft. “I don’t… I don’t think I know how to live without you.”

And it’s true. You’ve known Hoseok since you were eight years old—ever since he appeared in the middle of your garage and knocked over a can full of paintbrushes. You moved in together at twenty-four, got engaged two years later, and haven’t looked back since. You’ve given decades of your life and all of your love to Hoseok, and he’s done the same. And now all that you have left of him is a locket full of his ashes and a house filled to the brim with memories both good and bad.

“Were we happy?”

You blink, twice in rapid succession, before looking up into his achingly familiar face. His eyes are soft and his smile is tender, and you blink again slowly before answering. “Of course we were.”

Hoseok’s smile widens. He touches your cheek again gently, the pad of his thumb brushing the delicate skin just beneath your right eye. “And we had decades of happiness, didn’t we?”

“A lifetime’s worth,” you agree in a whisper. “But I’m selfish, Hobi. I want more. I want you.”

“You have me,” Hoseok replies, and your eyes flutter shut when he reaches up to cup your face in his hands, his touch delicate and light as if you’re something to be treasured. “I’ve been yours since we were kids, and I’ll be yours until the universe ends and the stars die out. You couldn’t get rid of me, even if you tried.”

The sound that escapes you is part laugh, part choked sob, and when you speak again, your voice is small. “I know. You’re right, and I know that. But—” and here your throat closes up, and you have to clear it twice just to continue on. “I just miss you, Hobi. I miss you so much. Between the wake and everyone coming into town, it just feels like… it feels like I didn’t get to say a proper goodbye.”

“Say it now, then,” he says easily, and you suck in a shaky breath.

“Really?”

“Really.”

So, you do. You tell him everything you never got a chance to say—from the stupid jokes you never got to crack, to how happy you are to have met him all those decades ago. Hoseok listens to you ramble on with a tender smile and his fingers twined with yours, and when you fall silent again, he utters four simple little words that somehow still manage to make your breach catch and your heart sing.

“I love you too.”

You nod, and blink back a fresh wave of tears. “Will I see you again?”

“I don’t know,” he answers, and you know he’s telling the truth because he’s incapable of lying. “I hope so. But even if you don’t, I know you’ll be okay. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, and you’re going to be fine. I know it.”

Hoseok stiffens, then, and you know it’s time for him to go. “I love you,” you repeat, whispering the words into his chest as if you can force them past the material of his shirt and imprint them into his very skin. “Goodbye, Hobi.”

Your husband squeezes your hand, planting twin kisses onto your eyelids one onto your lips. “Goodbye, {Name}.

And then he’s gone, leaving you alone once more.

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

SECOND PART TO "THROUGH THE WARNING SIGN'S" PLEASE

i’d like to make you mine || h. styles

sequel to ‘through the warning signs’

warnings: swearing, references to masks + covid

word count: 1.5k

summary: a glass of spilt wine leads to slightly different plans...

part one.

Sat at the desk in the spare room of Florence’s house, you listened to Louisa’s ramblings about how rude it was that you’d waited at least two hours to tell her that you were going on a date with Harry Styles. You’d FaceTimed her as soon as you and Florence got home from set, but no, she wasn’t having that as an excuse. “Well, what are you going to wear?” she asked.

You shrugged, rubbing your moisturiser along your face, “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it yet.”

She was tucked up in her bed at home in England. She had her duvet pulled up to her chin, the soft hum of music in the background. She scoffed, “Haven’t really thought about? You are joking, right? You’re going out for dinner with Harry fucking Styles and ‘you haven’t really thought about what you’re gonna wear’?”

“Don’t say it like that,” you sighed.

“Like what?”

“Harry fucking Styles,” you mocked as she grumbled something about not sounding anything like that. “You’re making it sound like a big deal.”

“Uh, Y/N, it kind of is a big deal.”

“No, it’s just like I’m going on a date with any other boy.”

She let out a loud laugh, “Oh, no, Y/N. I didn’t mean it like that. I was talking about the fact that you haven’t been on a date in, like, two years.”

You let out a gasp in mock offence, “Fuck you!”

She chuckled, “No, but I am happy for you.”

“Really? And you’re not jealous?”

“Why would I be jealous?”

“You used to be literally in love with him.”

She gasped, “I was not!”

“Don’t lie, Louisa,” you laughed. “You used to come and sleep at my house when we were, like, seventeen and you’d do nothing but talk about him.”

“You know I was a Liam girl. Besides, I’m just waiting for Robert Pattinson to return my call,” she sighed.

“Robert Pattinson? Jesus, Louisa, weren’t you just nursing a major obsession with Timothée Chalamet?” you laughed. You’d always found her ability to crush on celebrities so easily hilarious.

“That’s besides the point.”

You looked over at the clock hung above your temporary bed. 5:23. “Right, I better go.”

She pouted, “Do you have to?”

“Yes! And shouldn’t you be getting some sleep? Don’t you have work in the morning?”

“Maybe.”

“What time is it over there?”

“Like half one in the morning.”

“Exactly! Go to sleep, Louisa.”

“Fine. I love you, Y/N.”

“Love you too, Louisa,” you smiled gently at her as she hung up. It was nice talking to Louisa again after so long. You did miss her dearly. But now you had a date with Harry to distract you for a little while.

Once you’d carefully concocted an outfit and finished drying your hair from the shower you’d had before you called Louisa (you’d assured her that she’d been your number one priority once you got back from set, but it was really hygiene, especially before a date you’d been waiting for for four years), it was about time for Harry to arrive. So, you sat downstairs with Florence and her boyfriend, Zach. Your knee was bouncing as you waited for him, your stomach full on dread. “Y/N, will you calm down? It’ll be fine,” Florence sighed. “He clearly cares. Fuck, I mean he literally asked about what allergies you had before asking you out to dinner.”

You nodded, and before you had the chance to say anything, a knock at the door only sent you into a complete state of collapse. Florence extended her hand and dragged you towards the door. With every step, you felt more and more sick. “I feel ill, Flo. I might just lie down. Tell Harry I said sorry,” you rushed out quickly, trying to turn and run towards the staircase. But to no avail.

“You’ll regret it if you don’t go on this date,” she said and you knew she was right. You’d only wake up in the morning and scold yourself for not even trying.

As she opened the door, you were met with Harry, dressed in a black tuxedo. It was jazzed up with some pink floral embroidery and it certainly looked more expensive than what you could earn in 10 years. He grinned, “Good evening, Flo.”

“You alright, Harry?” she smirked, her eyes fluttering between your nervous self and the man stood on her doorstep.

“Good, thanks. Do you mind if I steal Y/N away for the evening?”

“Only if you promise to bring them back before midnight,” she joked.

“Of course,” he nodded, smiling. “You coming?”

You nodded, looking back to see Florence’s supportive smile. You followed Harry into his car and, before you knew it, you were on your way to some fancy restaurant he’d booked. In you went, sat down at your table, studied the menu and ordered your selected food. It was only then, as the waiter walked away, that the conversation really started up. Naturally, the conversation prior had just been small talk about what the two of you were thinking about ordering.

Amazingly, and almost to your surprise, the conversation flowed nicely, unlike all of the ones you’d shared at work. You wanted to talk about favourite novels and guilty pleasures and pet peeves and bad habits and embarrassing childhood stories with him. As he sat opposite you, chatting away. You couldn’t help but study his face and the way his eyes never wavered from you. You watched his hand as it reached across to grab your wine glass and pour you a glass of the upscale red wine. Unsure exactly where it all went wrong, you ended up with the staining wine seeping through your white shirt. “Shit, shit, shit. Shit, I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he quickly stood, rubbing one of the napkins across the stain. You almost felt bad for ruining the napkin at how opulent it looked. 

“It’s okay,” you assured him, grabbing his hand to move it away from your torso. A couple of people turned to look at the pair of you, whispering amongst themselves. He sent you an apologetic glance, dropping the wine-stained napkin onto the table. This only further ruined the cloth that coated the table. “Maybe we should leave?” you offered, not feeling up to sitting in a stained shirt for a couple of hours. 

He nodded, sighing, frustrated, “Right, yeah. Of course. Do you want me to take you back to Florence’s?”

You didn’t want this night to end. It had been fun and Harry’s company was one you had a newfound appreciation for. “Just away from everybody,” you whispered.

He nodded, his features brightened slightly. Taking your hand, he walked you out of the lavish restaurant. As the pair of you walked through the streets, illuminated in an orange glow as the sun sat atop the horizon, you knew there’d be pictures in the press the morning to follow. All headlined with something like ‘HARRY STYLES SPOTTED OUT WITH MYSTERY DATE’. They wouldn’t know who you are, half of your faces obscured by masks. But, then eventually, somebody would point out that it looked like you. And then that would get out of control, making all of the headlines for at least an hour look something like ‘HARRY STYLES AND LITTLE WOMEN COSTUME DESIGNER, Y/N Y/L/N OUT FOR EVENING DINNER’. You knew that; he knew that. Both of you knew the consequences of fleeing the restaurant and roaming the streets. Whatever the two of you had going on, whatever you might have in the future, would instantly become public knowledge. 

But, in the moment, you didn’t care. You liked Harry, and you were enjoying yourself. So, do you know what, fuck whatever anybody thought. This was your life, you were going to do whatever you wanted with it. “I am really sorry,” he said quietly as you walked down the quiet streets together.

“Honestly, Harry, it’s okay,” you smiled. It was bold from you, of course it was, but you did it anyway, reaching over to squeeze his hand. He looked over at you, his eyebrows had been knitted together, but at the sight of your warm smile, they softened. Your face was coated in a soft layer of setting sun and, Harry would argue, it made you look ethereal and the most divine thing he’d ever laid his eyes upon. Oh, how he wanted to write so many songs about you. Even the Gods couldn’t compare to you in that moment, he thought. “I didn’t plan for this evening to go like this,” he said, his voice quiet and defeated. 

“Well, I would hope not,” you replied, offering a crappy joke to hopefully lift his spirits. He did, in fact, crack a smile. Now, the two of you were alone. The sun was dipping below the silhouetted horizon and the evening, you feared, was drawing to somewhat of an end. “Harry,” you began, hoping to finally ask all of the little, insignificant things about his life. 

“Yeah?” he replied, turning to glance at you.

And it felt as if you’d waited so long to simply ask, “What’s your favourite novel?”

[gaysimpsstuff]

Flightless Birds Chapter Three; Where Birds Belong

Chapter One Here

Chapter Two Here

Chapter Four Here

Chapter Five Here

Summary: After visiting Kouten in the hospital, Y/n gets more and more ‘gifts’ from their stalker. But what are they supposed to do when it gets to be too much? Make a huge mistake, that’s what.

Word Count: 2.4K Words

Warnings: cursing, intrusive thoughts, mentions of masturbation, unwanted sexual letters, threats, police officers, implied drugging

Other: the first half of this chapter was meant to be in the previous chapter, but since Tumblr is a bitch I couldn’t do that and it was pushed here. 

Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @cathy8taffy @1small-frogs @catcherisvibin @waffleareniceandfluffy @mandalorian-baby-bird @theblueslytherin @hawksadmirer @assassinslittlesister @deepcollectorphantom (lemme know if you wanna be added to or removed from the taglist)

Numb. 

Was that the right word to describe how you were feeling?

Your heart was hammering away in your chest, and your whole body felt light as a feather.

Your head was foggy, and you felt like the world beneath you was shifting, tumbling around like the tectonic plates of your life were slamming and crashing into each other.

When you arrived at home, there was another ‘gift’ waiting for you. You picked it up and brought it inside. You knew you should probably just ignore all the packages and throw them away, but you just couldn’t.

Why? Why must your curiosity be satiated like this?

Today, it was a teddy bear. A red string was wrapped around its neck. You sighed, setting it on the nightstand with the other ‘gifts.’ 

More and more gifts started to arrive over the next week and a half. Clothes you’d expressed interest in, small shiny things, key-chains, and a couple more dead animals. You were sick and tired of it, and you were stressed out of your mind.

You hadn’t slept in days, you were hardly eating, your weird stalker had started leaving notes talking about you. They knew things about you that they shouldn’t know, it was getting to be too much. You felt heavy and cotton-headed. 

Calls from unknown numbers appeared every day now, and most of them included you just saying ‘hello?’ Into the phone until the caller hung up.

You were so tired, and so freaked out. 

Paranoia flooded your mind about your stalker breaking into your house and hurting you. 

But you felt so selfish. All your stalker was doing was creeping you out. You hadn’t actually been hurt yet, however Kouten was in the fucking hospital! He had almost been killed and you were worried about a few creepy notes.

How much of a horrible person were you?

You had one comfort; him. 

Izanagi.

You’d been spending less and less time at your flat, and more time with Izanagi. You spent every other night at his house, and you’d gotten so used to sleeping in the same bed as him that you felt you couldn’t sleep without his gentle touches and soft breaths.

Everything about him calmed you, his gentle green eyes, the constellation of freckles on his cheeks, that one tooth in his mouth that was twisted to the left, the days when he forgot to do laundry and you had to fold his clothes, you loved it all.

Your feet hit the pavement too hard as you approached your home. The stray tabby cat of your neighborhood dashing away from your front door as you approached.

You looked down, exhausted.

There was a rectangle of white on your welcome mat, your name printed in the fancy kanji of your stalker’s handwriting.

You slowly lifted it off of the ground, entering your home. Everything was quiet…

Too quiet.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, flinching at the sound of the mattress creaking under your weight. Slowly, you peeled open the envelope, unfolding the letter. Your eyes scanned down the words, nervous.

Dear Y/n.

You’ve been getting all my presents, right? Gosh I do hope you enjoy them. I can’t believe I’m finally writing you a letter! It’s so exhilarating, you know? 

I’ve never felt like this before, ever. Nothing even came close. God Y/n, I’m so in love with you! Do you know? I’ve been courting you this whole time! We’re birds of a feather, both lazy as fuck but so vulnerable.

I wish I didn’t have to hurt Yuu like I did, but that little bitch had to die. Unfortunately he survived, how tragic.

You stopped reading looking up for a moment. You were right! Your stalker had been connected to Kouten’s attack! That… didn’t feel very nice. You thought you’d feel better about it, but now you just felt sick.

It was your fault Kouten was hurt.

I could understand he was close to you, I hated that. I would have gone for Fujikawa, but he’s surprisingly cautious. You’d think he’d be more reckless, being as fucking stupid as he is, but nooo. 

I’ll have mercy on him, I’m sure it’d just make you upset to see him dead anyways. But I swear, go near him again and I’ll kill him. 

I don’t wanna talk about that in my first real letter with you, so instead I’ll just talk about you.

How breathtaking you are.

How fucking gorgeous you are.

Y’know, you really are fucking amazing, you think I didn’t see? You really took the time to appreciate yourself yesterday, I think that was your way of saying you loved me back! Touching yourself… oh fuck you looked so hot.  Think I didn’t hear? I really wish I was there, fucking you the way you need. I’d give you everything you’ll ever need. You won’t need anything but me. 

Baby you’ve just given me my next month’s worth of masturbation material.

Remember, I love you!

    -Your future husband

No. Fuck fuck no. Gross get out drop it throw up rip it to shreds hurt smash something scream no no no no no get out get it out get it out find him report him police heroes what the fuck Izanagi-

Izanagi.

Izanagi.

Hey siri, call Izanagi.

“Yo, Y/n! What’s up? Miss me already~” Izanagi. His voice relaxed you and you found your brain forming coherent thoughts again. You opened your mouth to confess what was happening, but nothing came out. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

Then you cried. 

It felt so good to finally cry, you hadn’t cried in what felt like years, sobbing and looping his name, your only comfort in this chaos.

“Woah, woah, hey what’s going on? Hang on I’m coming over, don’t you fucking dare hang up!”

You sniffed, nodding, continuing to just mutter his name. In Just under five minutes, he was letting himself in with the spare key. You felt the bed shift, and you felt his warmth next to you. You fell against his side, crying harder. He held onto you, rubbing at your sides.

“Hey, hey. Come on, what happened? Tell me!” you could hear the fear in his voice. You still didn’t feel like you could speak so you just shakily handed him the letter you received, hoping he’d understand your reaction once he saw what you’d gotten.

His eyes scanned the paper before widening, and he covered his mouth with his hand. He dropped the paper, standing up and grabbing a suitcase from your closet and starting to fill it with clothes. He moved with haste, and you noticed he was grabbing your favorite clothes.

The sweatshirt he’d gifted you for Valentine’s Day, the Edgeshot t-shirt you wore every other day, the sweatpants you always slept in, 

“W-what are you doing?” you whimpered.

“You really think I’d let you stay here when some fucker obviously is watching you? I’m gonna report this to the police. No one is going to hurt you, okay? No one hurts my friends!” he turned back to you, a hard look in his eyes. You had a feeling that if he ever ran into your stalker, it would take multiple top heroes to hold him back from killing the guy.

You were grateful.

Izanagi helped you pack, and you told him all the other details. How it started with the Hawks beanie, how you’d gotten bottle caps and sweatshirts, and even dead animals. How you felt too scared to tell anyone, afraid of getting blown off.

He comforted you, he promised you he’d protect you. You felt safe with him. He would protect you. You thanked him religiously as he helped you bring your things over to his place. He kept telling you that of course he’d be doing this, it was the right thing to do.

This man… this man was your rock. He was your everything. You knew there’d be no way to fully repay him for his kindness towards you, but you promised yourself you’d try. 

You sat on his bed again, realizing that for the time being, this was your bed too. He was beside you, holding you tight and comforting you. You relaxed into his touch, before a realization struck you.

“Izanagi- he threatened to kill you. He hurt Kouten too, he- he can probably kill you if he really wants to.” Izanagi shook his head, pressing a finger to your lips.

“Nothing, I swear nothing is going to happen to me. Okay? Now, we’re going to the police station. You will not leave my sight, you will not let go of my hand. You’re not gonna wander off without telling me, etc etc. Clear?”

“Crystal.” you smiled softly, nodding. “Thank you so much Iza.”

“Like I said, of fucking course I’d do this. Come on, let’s get in the car.” he took your hand, putting your stalker’s letter in his pocket and taking you with him back out to his car. You got in the back, and he drove quickly. He glanced back at you repeatedly, double and triple-checking you were there and safe. 

  Finally, he pulled up at the police station and got out, quickly running around to the back doors as you got out. His hand was instantly on yours, pulling your body close against his and walking in the station with you. He briskly walked up to the police lady behind the counter.

“Oh, hello! Is there something I can do for the two of you?” she asked, it was so sweet and cheerful, so vastly different from the emotions swirling around in your mind.

“Yes, here.” Izanagi pulled the letter from his pocket and handed it to the lady. “My friend has a stalker, and he’s attacked another one of our friends.” the woman looked over the letter, nodding.

“Alright, I’m going to have some officers talk to your friend in private and-”

“Not happening.” Izanagi growled. “I get it, but I’m not leaving my friend.”

“I- I want him in the room.” you added. “Please.” the woman sighed, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, but unless you are a minor, I can’t have anyone else in the room with you. Even then it would be limited to certain people. It’s a safety precaution.”

“Fuck!” You grabbed Izanagi’s arm, rubbing his bicep to calm him down. He turned to you, offering you a strained smile. “You’ll be okay, right?” he asked, worried. You nodded, a feeble attempt to comfort him.

He gave the officers that came in a hard look, like he expected them to hurt you. You broke away from Izanagi’s comfort and followed them into a questioning room.

There were so many questions.

Every little detail about your life, even things that didn’t seem all that important. You told them everything you told Izanagi, plus a little more. They weren’t very comforting, and when you got scared, they got angry. It wasn’t at all like Izanagi, who softened when you were upset. Any detail that you didn’t have, they seemed to be upset with you about it. As if you were supposed to do your own little investigation illegally. It was… very annoying.

“Alright, we’re going to call a hero in here.” one of the officers told you. “Hawks has been doing a lot more patrols in your area than usual, he might have already seen your stalker and can probably take care of it for you. Is that okay?”

Hawks. You’d just met him one. He was a hero. He was trusted, beloved even. 

Call him in. He’s Hawks. He’s the number two. He wasn’t creepy, just do it!

“That’s fine, I’ll talk to Hawks.”

Maybe you should have thought about it more.

Maybe you should have trusted that feeling in your gut telling you ‘no.’

Maybe you shouldn’t have told Izanagi. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have involved the police.

Maybe you shouldn’t have spoken with Hawks so casually when you met him.

Maybe you shouldn’t have been a bird.

Maybe then.

You’d be free as you once were.

It took five minutes. Then the door swung open and he walked in. It had been a week or so since you saw him, but when he layed his golden eyes on you, you got the feeling that you’d seen him only yesterday, in a flash of red in the dead of night.

“Hello, Y/n L/n.” He spoke calmly, but you noticed a slight tremor of excitement. Why was he so happy to see you? 

You felt chills run down your spine at the way he sat next to you, taking your hand and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. His whole body seemed to vibrate in happiness, his wings fluttering as he locked eyes with you.

You shyed away from him, desperately trying to take your hands back, but his grip was firm. There was no escape.

“I-I changed my mind, officer!” You turned to the policeman, who was just leaving the room, leaving you with him. “I don’t want to talk to a hero, I’m sorry!”

The man turned back to you, a lazy, amused, smirk on his face. 

“Don’t worry, he’s a pro. You’ll be fine.” The man waved you off, shutting the door behind him. You felt like screaming, or throwing up, or both.

Something about Hawks seemed off. The way he looked at you, touched you, grinned so wildly at you, he didn’t look like a hero.

He looked like a crazed lunatic.

Click

The officer had locked the door.

“U-um, hi, Hawks.” you whispered, voice quiet. Fuck you wished Izanagi was here to comfort you. Hawks’ gloves were cold, the beaten leather rough against your hands, they were nothing like the gentle warmth that Izanagi’s soft skin emitted. 

His grin only grew, and he pulled you close to him, arms reaching around under your wings to grip your back. You squeaked, instinctively grabbing onto his biceps. His body was pressed against yours, and his breathing quickened, his face buried into your shoulder. You could feel him inhaling your scent.

“Fuck.” he growled, and you could feel his talons digging into your skin through his gloves and your shirt. “You have no idea how happy I am to finally see you again.” his voice wavered, and you could practically feel his excitement.

“S-sir, please let me go-” you whimpered. “I’m here to report a crime, not as a fan trying to meet you.” the hero cooed, only holding you tighter. 

“I know why you’re here, dear Y/n~” his breath tickled your ear, and you felt tears brimming in your eyes. “And I know who’s been following you. So nice of him to send you all those gifts, right~?” 

No

“So cruel of you to act like he’s a criminal.”

Not like this 

“He’s going to take good care of you~” 

Not right now 

“I love you so much”

Ow.

You felt... foggy.

And warm, really warm.

Tired…

So… tired…

Darkness.

[vanderlindemorgans]

Cross My Heart (Chapter 5)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: Eventual smut, some references to alcoholism and drug use. Reader is in her late twenties but there is an age gap between her and Whiskey. Chapter specific warnings: one scene takes place in a hospital, some medical talk, more heavy drinking, talk of death and alcoholism (specifically related to drunk driving), mentions of drug addiction, Whiskey being a dick, lotta heavy topics in general.

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“Alright, so the X-Rays have come back and as you can probably already guess your left arm has been fractured”.

The news hadn’t been a shock to you at all - it was only logical that the result of being thrown off the back of a horse was your arm breaking from the impact of the fall, nevermind the sheer amount of pain that it had already caused you was even more indication that something was definitely wrong there. All things considered, it still wasn’t a pleasant piece of news to receive, causing you to let out a low groan as you settled back into the hospital gurney they had allocated to you after the ambulance had pulled you in. Dressed in only a hospital gown, you felt the chill from the room's air conditioning prick the edges of your skin, the coolness of temperature making the whole experience even more foreign to you. Of course, it wasn’t like you’d never been to a hospital before - an unlucky bout of croup had sent you to the emergency room as a little kid when you’d almost stopped breathing. At the resurgence of that particular memory you felt yourself shudder, recalling the hours spent passed out in a brightly lit room and being forced to drink gross tasting liquid that was meant to clear up your airways. At least you weren’t choking on your own breath this time round. 

“Well that’s just fantastic. How long will it take to heal? I kinda got a ranch to run” you asked the doctor, who was standing off to the side consulting the clipboard nestled against his arm. Sighing, he looked up at you with a look of sympathy while he ran through the information he’d jotted down on his notes. “Usually it takes twelve weeks for fractures to heal - given the fact that a good part of your arm has been displaced you’ll need to be put into surgery to shift the bone back into place, which we’ll have scheduled for you in the next twenty-four hours. Afterwards, I’ll be putting you in a cast for a couple of weeks and you’ll have to come back in for checkups weekly. I’ll also give you a list of rehabilitation exercises you can do to ensure the recovery process goes as smoothly as possible” he explained. “After your surgery and subsequent discharge, I heavily recommend a few days bed rest due to the concussion you have sustained”.  

“So I’m guessing most physical labour is out then” you muttered under your breath, sighing once you realized how heavily this would impact your ability to keep things running smoothly back at the ranch. Yes, you had employees but without you to oversee everything things would slow down and descend into madness real quickly. You wished you had allocated some sort of second in command for times like this, a manager of sorts to keep things in place while you recovered but you’d just never gotten around to it, brushing the thought aside every time it sprung up with a simple “Why would I need extra help anyway? Nothing ever happens around here”. 

“You’d be correct on that. Now, I have some other patients to check on but I will be back in about 20 minutes or so to prep you for surgery, though I will send a nurse to give you some painkillers so you can stop feeling the worst of the pain for at least a little while” he replied. You went to thank him but before you could you felt a light touch graze along your right arm. Your eyes glanced over to where Jack’s hand was placed, his touch delicate and comforting, sparking that same feeling in your chest that you’d felt when he’d stroked your forehead back at the ranch. His eyes met your own for a moment, deep cedar brown looking at you with nothing more than concern and worry, somehow pulling at a single string of your heart even though you wanted to fight against it with all your might.

Snapping you focus back into place, you nodded back over to the doctor and thanked him for all he was doing, listening to his reassurances that he’d have you fixed up as soon as possible as he hurried on out of the room to his next patient in need. Once he was gone, you exhaled in annoyance and went back to staring aimlessly at the ceiling, mulling over the inconvenience of your predicament. 

“Everything ok, sugar?” you heard Jack ask you, feeling his enchanting eyes study your expression, his anxiety over your wellbeing plain as day. Letting out a small laugh, you returned his question with a small smile of your own. “Does it look like I’m ok?” you joked, gesturing vaguely to your fractured arm. 

He chuckled at your sarcasm, always enjoying that certain fire you had to your character that refused to silence itself. Unbeknownst to you, that was one of things that drew him towards you in the first place - his own air of cockiness and confidence was equally matched by your spitfire and sarcastic wit. Finding out the sweet disposition that lay behind that harshness the first time round had taken him by complete surprise, but only did more to endear himself to you. God, he was such a fool for losing that. He was certain that your sweetness was still there, closed behind even more layers of hurt and pain that he’d caused such a large hand in. 

From the moment the ambulance had arrived, Jack had stayed beside you, refusing to leave for even a single moment. It was quite endearing, truth be told, a feeling that attempted to worm its way through your steadfast reasoning against him. He’s a liar. Don’t fall for his shit again, you repeated to yourself. Though it was becoming harder and harder to continue regarding him as your greatest mistake when he was behaving so kindly and gentlemanly towards you. Just a part of his deceptive charm, I guess, you thought bitterly. 

“Y’know, you don’t have to worry about things gettin’ outta hand down at the ranch. I’m more than happy to step up and help” he spoke up, snapping your attention back to his words and out of your own contemplation. You thought about his proposal for a minute, the temptation to say yes seeming very appealing towards you, though somehow that felt like admitting to weakness. The ranch wasn’t his responsibility, it was yours, left to you by your dear parents. It was your obligation to run it in their stead - there’d been difficulties along the way, sure, including the occasional nasty cold every now and then but you had pulled through without any trouble. You didn’t need help or any sort of handout, and you were more than capable of taking care of business by yourself, even with a broken arm.

Then again, it is gonna be kinda hard to run a business while being confined to bed rest. Briefly you thought about just closing the ranch for a couple of days while you got back on track yet once you thought about the loss in profits you discarded that idea quickly. It wasn’t like you were struggling to make ends meet but a dip in profits could cause a bit of issue. 

“Yeah but...It’s my responsibility. I can’t just ignore that because I got a stupid broken arm” you rebuffed, though you didn’t sound entirely convinced of what you were saying yourself. Sadly, stubbornness was your nature and even if you knew you were fighting a losing battle, sometimes it was more about the principle of having a position rather than whatever thing you were debating over. Some would say that was quite a counterproductive way to look at things, and you’d agree with them, yet you still remained stubborn in spite of them, feeding back into the cycle.  

“Darlin’, with all due respect, I think what’s best for you is that you take a step back and let someone else take the reins. You need to allow yourself to rest a lil. Tell me, in all the years of runnin’ the ranch by yourself, have you ever once taken a day off?”. 

“No, but-”.

“Exactly as I thought. You’ve been doing an amazing job at keeping things together for all these years, sweetheart, but you gotta relax a bit. Let me help you” he interrupted, gazing at you with those heart-meltingly sweet eyes of his, a look which made you seize up ever so slightly in minor fake annoyance. Little shit, he had to be doing that on purpose.

“Fine, only if it’ll get you to shut up” you relented, rolling your eyes in a dramatic fashion and hitting your head back down into the pillow below, eliciting a playful smirk from him in return. “That’s my girl, stubborn as always” he jested. 

To that you cocked an eyebrow at him in disbelief. “Your girl? Careful there, Jack, for a minute I thought you were capable of genuine compassion and care. I may have once been your girl, cowboy, but not anymore. Or did you happen to forget?”. 

His own expression softened slightly in regards to your snide remark, his mischievous grin faltering while he turned his gaze to the floor, looking somewhat sheepish towards what you had said, a far cry from his usual air of arrogance. “Yeah, I guess I deserve that” he murmured. “Tell me, sugar, do you ever think one day you’ll believe me when I say that I’m sorry?”. 

“When pigs fly, dearest” you smiled with a shit-eating grin, though you couldn’t miss that momentary flash of hurt in his eyes that made you pull back, a sharp pang striking through your chest that hurt harder than the agonizing ache in your arm, which really, was saying something. Could that be...guilt, perhaps?, you thought, searching Jack’s face for any further sign of offense. If he was feeling hurt, he was doing a pretty stellar job at hiding it. Maybe it was nothing, and even if he was hurt, well, he said it himself, he deserved it. Without giving you another minute to ponder your own feelings, a welcome interruption in the arrival of a nurse found you, shifting your thoughts towards the relief of finally getting some painkillers into you. 

___

The surgery had gone over well, and after a grueling day spent hanging out in that hospital room hopped up on painkillers you were finally discharged late afternoon the following day. The worst of your concussion had cleared itself up too yet you were still confined to your bed for those first few days - the doctor was insistent on that fact, saying you could never be too careful. You’d begrudgingly complied, not wanting to cause any further problems to your health, and even if you had tried to go against the doctor’s orders, you knew that Jack would be there to send you off back to bed if you dared lift a finger. 

Jack had doted on you the entire time, making sure you were well hydrated and cool enough in the midst of the hot Texas summer, fetching you snacks and whatever else you needed from downstairs. In his own words, what kind of man would he be if he didn’t take care of an ailing woman. You’d rolled your eyes and insisted that he didn’t have to go all out with looking after you yet he’d insisted. It was somewhat heartwarming, and it felt nice to be taken care of again after those last few years alone. It reminded you of when you’d come down with the flu back in third grade, staying home in bed lazily watching television and barely being able to keep your eyes open while your mum made soup in the kitchen. You could feel your heart drop at the mere recollection of your parents, pain that stayed beneath the surface rising up in full force. Usually you pushed those feelings down, not wanting to become distracted from the business, but today, you allowed yourself the indulgence of missing them. What would they think if they could see you now? Would they be proud, or disappointed? 

Feeling your stomach grumble, you shifted over in bed and reached your only good arm out to grab onto the half-eaten grilled cheese Jack had brought in for you five minutes before, letting out a low wince at the pain that writhed through your other arm, which had been placed into a cast and sling for the time being. Already you couldn’t wait for the day you could get the damned thing taken off - you hadn’t been able to shower and you felt grotty and gross. It wasn’t like you had to impress anyone, it was just you and Jack lying about the place. Still, you could only take so many days of waking up with unwashed greasy hair. And it was itchy too. Oh dear god, it was fucking itchy. You’d heard about how itchy the plaster could get second-hand but you never anticipated it to be that bad. 

Directing your eyes to the clock on your bedside, you took notice of the time and let out a small relieved sigh. You could finally take another one of those painkillers, the fourth and dismally last one for you of the day. 

Your relief quickly fizzled out into disappointment when you realised the packet of painkillers that had been sitting by your bedside was empty. “Seriously? It’s only been a few days, I couldn’t have gone through them already…” you muttered to yourself in annoyance. Nevermind, there was another packet downstairs. You may have been perfectly capable of getting out of bed and retrieving it yourself, though you found yourself not wanting to be bothered with such a task. “Hey Jack, you there? I ran out of painkillers, could ya run some up to me?” you called out.

“Sure thing, sweetheart” you heard him shout back, and no more than two minutes later he was striding through your bedroom door, carrying exactly what you had requested within his palms. “How are you feelin’?” he asked. 

“No better than six minutes ago when you last asked me that. Thanks for bringing these up though, fuck that stupid horse for bucking me off” you grumbled, sniping the blessed white packet out of his hands and into your fingers. “Pain making you grumpy, sweet girl? You seem a bit more full of spitfire than usual today” he joked. 

“Nah, you’re getting the discounted version today. If I wanted to vocalise exactly what I was feeling right now you’d be obliterated in a second” you laughed, chucking a tablet into your mouth and washing it down with a large gulp of water, anxious to feel some semblance of relief. 

“You don’t say. How’s your head doing, though? No dizziness or anything like that?”. 

“I’m fine, Jack, I promise. You don’t have to fawn all over me just because I broke my dumb arm” you assured, rolling your eyes at him. 

“I wouldn’t call in fawning, I only want to make sure you're comfortable and all that. Not only because of your arm and all” he smiled gently, reaching out to brush a stray hair off your forehead. It could have been the heat of the room but you could have sworn your skin felt on fire the moment he touched you. You could feel him press the back of his fingers against your head, unconsciously allowing your breath to hitch at his touch. And just like that, the warmth of his hand was gone, leaving an invisible searing mark in its place and your own head full of frenzied and confused thoughts. 

“Like I said earlier, just call out if you need anything else, alright darlin’?” he said as he was leaving, words that you didn’t care to take notice of as he left you to yourself again. Blinking slowly, you couldn’t even fully begin to describe what had just taken place, or why one little gesture was throwing your mind into somersaults. Why did his mere touch have to affect you like that? Why couldn’t he just leave you alone? Groaning loudly, you settled yourself underneath the sheet covering you and huffed at nobody in particular, cursing both yourself and him for even existing. For fucks sake...

___

Taking a sip of bourbon from your glass, you leaned against the side of the stairs of the veranda with your gaze fixated off into the distance, though you didn’t take any notice of what lay ahead, lost deep in your own thoughts that clouded your mind. It’d been a couple more days, and you’d finally been able to get out of bed and get back to helping out around the ranch - not that you were still of any use to anyone, given the state of your arm. It felt good to be back overseeing things, albeit a bit more behind the scenes than you had been in years. It’d be a good month or so before you were able to move your arm properly and have things back to normal. At first that fact did nothing short of irritating you, since you weren’t one to lie about helpless when work needed to be done. Over the last few days though, seeing the ranch go about with business as usual with Jack’s extra help had put you at ease a little. It still bothered you somewhat that you had to be asking any sort of help from Jack Daniels of all people, though really, he was the one offering it in the first place so you hadn’t so much as asked him to do anything, moreso conceding to his instistance at the behest of your stubbornness. 

The pain was getting a little better too, though whether that had more to do with the painkillers or not remained to be seen. For example, you couldn’t feel anything now but you had just ingested two glasses of pure straight bourbon, so of course any type of pain would be numbed. Remember when it could numb more than just that? You let out a small snicker at the thought, sounding as hollow and empty as it felt. Once upon a time you might have been classed as relatively lightweight, a fact that changed after years of the trials and tribulations life had thrown your way. You still got drunk easy, but it took a good few glasses before you actually passed out.

“You know, you should let me sign that for ya”. 

Hearing that familiar voice ring out from behind you, you swivel around so see its owner standing right in the opened doorway of your home, his hands casually resting in his pockets and his frame leant against the wall. “What are we, in middle school? I don’t want it getting dirty” you scoffed, rolling your eyes at him for good measure. 

He smirked right back at you, letting out a small snicker that mirrored your own. “Why not? It’s not like you're gonna have to be wearin’ it forever. A little scribble in permanent marker wouldn’t do ya any harm” Jack grinned, taking a large step forward to descend down to your level, seating himself right next to you on the veranda. You cocked an eyebrow at him, letting your fingertips trail over the edge of the glass in your hands while you stared at him with utter audacity. “And yet I know you’re only so persistent in signing it because you’ll write something crude or vaguely flirty” you snipped. 

“How little you think of me, sugar. I’d never dream of doin’ such a thing. I am nothing if not a gentleman”. 

“Oh, do cut the charm, Jack. What is it you want?”.

“Please, can’t a man share a glass of bourbon with a lady without being subjected to the Spanish Inquisition?” he asked, wearing his devilish and frustratingly charming grin as he spoke, the appearance of which you swore made your cheeks flush a little bit hotter. Probably because of the alcohol...and it is hot out here after all...

“Not this lady, cowboy” you stated, gulping down the last dredges of bourbon in your glass and placing it back down to the floor with a thud. You went to go grab the bottle from beside you but found Jack had already snatched it up, pouring you another glass. Mumbling out a small thank you, you considered asking him if he wants a glass of his own, however once you caught sight of his silver Statesman issued flask in his hands you dismissed the idea entirely. With nothing else left to say, you glanced back up to the sky above towards where the moon was hanging over you two, the delicate light illuminating the stretches of countryside around your property in a soft glow, one that was both enchanting and eerie at the same time. Every now and then you would be reminded of how beautiful the Texan countryside could look, whether it be bathed in the rays of that damned blistering sun or the enigmatic glimmer of moonlight. It could pull you back to moments lost in time, years ago sitting right where you were in that very same spot, seven years younger and with the exact same man sitting beside you, head rested on his shoulder and looking out into the vast expanse of midnight black. Funny how things change, don’t they?

Out the corner of your eye you saw Jack shake his head, his eyes quiet, the sparkle of stark confidence bordering on plain arrogance missing. It was a similar look to the one he’d given you at the hospital that night, before he’d tried to cover it up with a certain facade of indifference. “What will it take for you to believe I’m sorry? What happened between us, it was all-” he started before being unceremoniously cut off by your interjection. 

“In the past? I’m well aware of that. Doesn’t change how I feel” you stopped him. You’d anticipated him throwing out that line from day one and you’d come prepared. Shut it down. Don’t let him try to swindle you for a fool. 

His expression changed to one more serious, a hint of him being slightly miffed that you cut him off in the first place. “Let me finish, darlin’. I’m gonna level with you for a second - what I did to you was one of the worst mistakes of my life. Letting everything fall apart like it did, I never should have let it happen” he expressed, his tone straddling between being firm and also being gentle. Cocking an eyebrow at him, you turned back to your glass of liquor, swirling the liquid around idly in a way that reminded you of that persistent thought running round your head. Did he have a point? Were you being too harsh on him? 

Don’t become soft on him. Don’t do it. You shifted back into focus, pushing those thoughts far to the back of your tipsy mind while you took a couple large sips of liquor as if it were a lifeline. “Worse than whatever mistake led you to showing up on my doorstep?” you asked, eager to direct the conversation right back out of that uncomfortable territory and into something a bit more easier to stomach. Maybe later on you could ponder the true depths of your perceptions of Jack. Right now, though, you wanted to get wasted and not have to think about anything anymore. And hey, it’s not like I wasn’t wondering about the events that led him here in the first place anyway.“You never did tell me what happened. I know you said it was none of my concern but...I want to know. Call it a spate of drunken curiosity, if ya want”. 

The question alone was enough to draw Jack’s face from being merely serious to an expression more cold and distant. He looked away from you entirely and rested his gaze to the few steps below the two of you, his hand clenching in a subconscious act that alone was enough to tell you his own reservations regarding the topic. “Truth is, I’ve been fucking things up for a good couple of years. What happened to lead me here, well, it ain’t a pretty story”. 

“I don’t care, Jack, I wanna know” you asserted, surging with a sense of fiery confidence. It might have been the alcohol giving you a bit more moxie to push the topic. One thing was for sure though: you wanted answers, and you didn’t wanna let this go. Stretching your legs out, you finished off the glass you had while you waited for him to reply, not wanting to cave to your request even if he was looking at you like you’d threatened to kill the President. 

Finally, he let out a low groan of annoyance and leant against the side of the veranda, not affording you a single look as he launched into his tale. “Basically what happened is some agents from an English based secret service came over to the states as a last resort - their base got blown up by someone and the two guys that approached us were the only ones left alive. Well, them and this other guy we had at our headquarters, but that’s a whole other story. The people behind the attack were a group called the Golden Circle, and Statesman had already been investigating them for awhile. I was called in by Champ to partner up with the Kingsman fellas, do the regular secret agent spiel of espionage and savin’ the world and all that crap. But, me and these other agents, we had an...ideological disagreement. I was covertly tryin’ to hinder them until the older guy got wise to my shit and shot me in the head. Ginger managed to bring me in and revive me, I went over to Cambodia where the two agents were confronting the leader of the Golden Circle, and to make a long story short things got nasty pretty quickly. I barely escaped with my life” he explained.

You nodded along to his explanation, the load of information being a lot to take in the first time round. You were always somewhat aware of Jack’s position as a secret agent though you were never privy to the nitty and gritty details - in fact, the way you’d found out about it in the first place was by complete accident and Jack had to beg Agent Champ to allow you to become cleared on even knowing the basics of his true work behind the front of being a Statesman investor. “And these ideological disagreements were…?” you pushed. 

“Trust me, you don’t wanna know” he deflected.

“Try me”.

He didn’t reply to you straight away, instead staring at you with a stark look of confliction across his face, an inner turmoil brewing inside of him on whether or not he should tell you even more. Being cast out as a traitor, he didn’t have to worry about breaking any sort of rule of confidentiality, so if you had to wager a guess at what his dilemma was, then it must have been that he felt mildly ashamed, or even embarrassed about the whole situation. In your mind though, you’d let him keep his secrets for weeks now, but if he was going to stay in your house you wanted to at the bare minimum know what he did that was so bad that he simply couldn’t return back home anymore.  “Well go on then, hit me with your best shot” you prodded further, hopefully enough to get his demeanour to crack and for him to spill what exactly the entire fuss had been about. And sure enough, crack he did. 

Running a hand across his forehead, he let out a low exasperated sigh, one that would have been inaudible if you hadn’t been seated beside him, indicating the exact moment he finally decided to break his own silence and reveal everything to you. “The Golden Circle were primarily a drug cartel and terrorist organization based out in the hidden depths of the Cambodian jungle. Their leader had devised a plot that involved lacing their distribution of drugs with a new type of chemical she created that caused death. Since their supply was mass distributed over the globe, they were holding the entire populace of drug users and addicts hostage to their respective governments, demanding a payout for the antidote. They didn’t, however, anticipate the President and other world leaders not really giving a red hot shit about the lives of junkies. Being the noble men they are, the Kingsman agents as well as the rest of Statesman were striving to get ahold of the antidote to save all those people. And that, is where me and them disagreed” Jack elaborated, avoiding your gaze in what appeared to be a calculated move in order to refrain from seeing your reactions to his admittance. In the span of two minutes, your expression had shifted from intense curiosity to straight up bafflement at what he was saying. It didn’t make sense - why was he against distributing the antidote? He was a secret agent, wasn’t he meant to save the world and innocent lives and all that?

“Let me get this straight - you were assigned on a mission to try to save the lives of innocent people, and you chose...not to do that” you asked, your tone laced with judgment. Not that you had intended for what you said to have come across any different. If what he was implying was right, then that would mean...

“Well, when you put it like that, sure, it sounds awful. I will concede, it wasn’t my best move. But all the people who ingested those drugs did so willingly. They knew they were taking a gamble on their lives the moment they stuck a damn needle into their arms” Jack grumbled defensively, allowing you to gawk back at him in utter disbelief. “Jack, no, you can’t seriously believe that? So what you’re saying is that the kid that decided to get high with his mates one weekend at a party deserves to die? Is that right?”. 

“No, no, I didn’t mean like that, I just…”.

“Really? ‘Cause it sounds a lot like you’re saying that innocent people should die for their poor choices” you cut in, shaking your head to further drive your point in. “Jesus, just when I thought you couldn’t be a bigger asshole you proved me wrong”. 

“Sweetheart, please, I know. It was a mistake, you don’t have to keep rubbing it in”. 

“You know it’s a mistake, but do you truly feel it? Do you really feel remorse? Because if you don’t then it’s just a bunch of empty words” you rebuffed, shooting him with a cold piercing glare that could make an entire continent freeze over. Around about this time, you really began to take notice of the dazed feeling clouding you, every glass of liquor draining straight into your brain and making you feel like your entire head was swimming. Maybe take it easy on the next glass, why don’t ya? With that thought, you shoved the glass off to the side with your free arm and bit your lip, debating whether or not you should even say what you wanted to next. That debate, however, did not last very long as you found yourself blurting out exactly what was on your mind within two seconds of your last thought. “Jack, look...maybe I’ll hate myself for saying this later, and maybe it’s just the liquor talking but I don’t think you’re an inherently bad person. I think you’re an arrogant son of a bitch who does cruel stupid things but probably has a decent enough heart. You just...you gotta stop with this shit. Stop with the betrayals, and the lies, and the false promises, all of it, and just be the real you. The Jack I knew may be a prick but he was never one to let an innocent die on his watch. What’s really behind all this?”. 

He continued to glare from his position beside you, somewhat intent on making you recant and drop the whole subject entirely. You wouldn’t go down that easy though, and he knew it, for as stubborn as Jack was you were at least ten times moreso, so when he folded first and trained his eyes low to the ground, you knew that he’d finally conceded. You could feel a whole shift in his demeanour from where you sat, the mask of defensive anger slowly falling away to reveal what was truly underneath: hurt. Pure, raw, unbridled hurt. Anguish that felt especially familiar to you and spoke to a part of yourself that you’d been turning away from for years, and even before he said those words you knew exactly what he was going to say. 

“Years ago, before I became an agent to Statesman, I was married to the young woman I’d fallen for in high school. I think I told you about her in passing maybe once, or twice, I don’t know…” Jack started, trailing off once he began to fully re-immerse himself in the past, heartache plainly sewn across his features. It was then that you felt an ache of your own in your chest, a heavy feeling of guilt descending upon you once you realised the gravity of what he was saying. “I remember. You said her name was Lily, wasn’t it?” you murmured, your voice small and unsure, with a hint of something else present too. Regret? Guilt? Whatever it was, you couldn’t quite put a name to it, but it was there, strong as anything and clearly wasn’t going away any time soon. 

Jack let out a small hum in reply, everything about his composure presumably a million miles away from everything around the both of you.“So you do remember” he muttered, brushing his fingers over the edge of his silver flask that he had cradled in his handles, tracing the Statesman logo engraved on the side with the pad of his thumb. “I remember you askin’ me about her the first time you came back to my apartment in New York - you saw the photo of her I kept on my desk and asked who she was. I only told you briefly that she was long gone, but I never told you how. The both of us were only twenty-three, and she was pregnant with our first child, a baby boy. Last time I saw her she left the house to go to the convenience store a few streets over”. He stopped himself for a split second, the darkness of his eyes being the all-too recognisable sign of falling deep into his own recollection, feeling as if he was reliving every memory that he revisited in his mind. “Twenty minutes later I get a phone call from a cop, saying there’d been an incident. Meth addicts had robbed the store at gunpoint and she’d been caught in the crossfire. She died instantly, and I wasn’t there to say goodbye. I never got to meet our baby boy, I never got to hold her in my arms again and say how much I loved her, because she was taken from me by a couple of meth-addled scumbags”. 

You were honestly at a loss for words, not knowing if saying something would be the appropriate option or not. He was right, you knew he was married before - the time with the picture that he mentioned was the most you had heard of her. He never brought Lily up again, and you never thought to ask, since in your mind it wasn’t any of your business who Jack loved before. Now, the pieces were falling into place, the interwoven connections of his past to his actions as an agent making all the more sense to you. 

What you wanted to do most was lean forward and envelop him into your embrace, tell him that you understood more than anyone what exactly that felt like, and even permit yourself to pour out your own heart to him. Drunk as you were though, you couldn’t talk yourself into doing anything more than placing a reassuring hand on his knee, letting your touch be soft and hesitant in case he shrugged you off, since you did basically just goad him into revealing his own wounds in the name of having answers. “Jack, I...I had no idea, I-”. 

“How could you have known? I never told you” he mumbled flatly. In the dim veranda light, all though it was faint, you could swear that there was a teardrop lingering in the corner of his cedar brown eyes, nudging the dagger of guilt further into your heart. Say something, you idiot.

Starting off softly, you let your hand rest firmer on his knee, trying to catch his eyes into your own. Tearing his glance away from the flask, he looked back at you with the same raw grief that you had seen on your own face so many times. “I know it must have hurt like hell losing her. And you have every right to feel angry, and hurt that she was taken, but that doesn’t give you the right to hate. Every addict in the world is not the same man who took her life. You can’t just-” you started, before the sound of Jack’s harshest tone cut through your words like a knife. 

“How would you know? Do you have any idea what it feels like to hurt, to have lost everything because of someone else’s choices?” he spat, anger seething in his scowl that was directed solely at you. It had taken you by surprise at first - as a reflex you withdrew your hand quickly from him as if he were burnt, perplexed at his sudden outburst. That didn’t last long however, as soon enough confusion was replaced by your own flair of anger. Now it was your turn to get defensive.“I think I do know what it’s like to hurt and to lose. In case you’ve forgotten, dickhead, there’s two people who should be right inside this house that aren’t anymore and haven’t been for about six fucking years now!” you yelled back. 

Shit. He’d forgotten about your parents. The anger that had been in him disappeared without a trace right then, being replaced by something close to resembling remorse over his behaviour. “I...I didn’t mean...fuck, sugar, I…I’m sorry. I don’t even know what to say” he apologised. You didn’t say anything back to him. You didn’t want to dignify him with any sort of a response. First of all, how dare he? You were only trying to empathise with him, and here he was biting your head off for daring to suggest that he doesn't hate every drug user on the planet. Why do I even fucking bother? 

The awkward silence between you hung for awhile, the two of you not wanting to break it for your own different reasons. You could feel Jack stealing glances at you, like he was trying to talk himself into saying something but never had the courage to follow through. Huffing to yourself, you took in your next glass fast enough to make your head spin. You’d have to turn in for the night eventually, and truth be told you were considering doing so right then when you heard Jack speak up. 

“I never did ask...if you don’t mind me askin’ that is...what happened to your folks anyway?” he asked hesitantly, as if he knew the question was fat-witted to begin with. Not that you minded too much by then. Drunk you was a lot more forgiving than you were sober. 

Taking in a heavy breath, you relayed your tale of woe to him, one hand placed steady to your side to keep you sitting upright. “It was late, and they were coming back from a friend’s 50th birthday party. Their friend lived in downtown Dallas, so they had a fair way to go to get from there to here. When they were almost on the highway, an out-of-control car barrelled towards them, smashing into the front of their windscreen and killing both of them instantly. The driver of the other car had been drinking - according to the local news he was a known alcoholic and had been out having a heated argument with his friend in the passenger seat. The only survivor of the entire collision had been his friend”. 

You saw Jack blink at you in silent shock, the weight of your words falling heavily on him while he continued to process it all. “Shit, darling, I feel like an even bigger piece of shit than I already did. If you slapped me clean across the face and kicked me out on my ass after this I wouldn’t blame ya one bit” he replied to you solemnly in a way that didn’t leave you questioning the authenticity of his words - he was genuinely sorry this time round. Taking his apology in stride, you shrugged back at him  and acted as nonchalant about the whole thing as possible, not wanting to ponder the topic further. As far as you were concerned, you’d felt enough things for one day and would very much like a break from it all. 

“It’s fine. You had no way of knowing. But please, if you take anything from this, at least listen to my words: externalising hate towards random people only feeds your trauma. It doesn’t resolve anything, and the only person left suffering in the end is yourself”. 

He furrowed his brow at you, most likely feeling a little defensive that the topic had circled back around to here, but considering his unruly display of anger earlier he wasn’t one to indulge in his own instinctual need to defend his position. “But...didn’t you want the man who took your parents away to suffer? Didn’t you look at every other drunk driving incident in the papers with a little more anger and rage than before?” he asked, earning a single eyebrow raise from you in return. “I mean...I guess what I’m trying to say is...it’s so easy to hate...why didn’t you fall into that trap?”. 

“Well, I did, for a little. It was almost tempting to look at every person I saw struggling with alcoholism in red. Since the man who caused the collision was already dead as a result of his own mistakes, at times I’d externalise part of that pain I was feeling onto others, and sometimes that anger became so hot and so burning that it was almost impossible to ignore. I realised pretty quickly that hating alcoholics wasn’t going to bring my parents back and that I’d have to make peace with their passing at some point. Honestly, I still haven’t processed a lot of that shit myself yet I’m still out here living my life as best I can, and really, with my own drinking habits I’d be a goddamn hypocrite to even try to find any true hatred in my heart towards heavy drinkers” you explained. Taking one last sip of bourbon, you discarded your glass off to your side and chuckled lightheartedly. “God, If I drink another glass I’m gonna collapse on the fucking floor. Think it might be time for me to turn in for the night. At least it’s Sunday tomorrow so we can sleep in a lil”.

“Y-you’re goin’ to bed? You’re not telling me to get lost or anything?” Jack sputtered in disbelief, which in turn earned him a minorly strange look from you. “Why would I do that?” you asked. 

“I quite literally just admitted to treason against my former organization to you”. 

“So? You made a mistake. A pretty fucking big mistake, and a shitty one at that, but still, a mistake. You obviously have some of your own pain you need to work through, and I can get that. Doesn’t mean I agree with what you did, but I get it. I’m not gonna kick you to the curb just because you have issues”.Upon saying that, you hoisted yourself up by latching your free arm onto the veranda’s fenceline, stumbling a little as you fought to maintain your balance while being both drunk and unable to fully utilise one of your arms. Nevertheless, you’d managed to straighten yourself up, and once you’d determined that you were alright to take yourself upstairs you faced on towards the front door and grasped at the brass knob in your hands, taking a brief pause to turn back and nod softly towards the man behind you. “Night Jack, I’ll see ya tomorrow” you called out, leaving him to sit there and watch you disappear back into the house with a certain look of dumbfounded astonishment.

Tag list (lemme know if you wanna be added): @giselatropicana​

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Prove Me Wrong

Summary: She can trust you, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

Warning: 18+ Mental Health, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Violence, Smut

Chapter 10

* * * * * * 

Eyebrows shoot up into your hairline. E/c eyes blinking in surprise.

Across from you stands the entire team, in front of them is a large breakfast spread, and balloons. 

You smile with a shake of your head,“ what is all this for?” 

Tony smiles, rounding the corner to stand at your side. His arm circles your shoulder,“ as of today, you have officially been with us for a year.”

“Awe, guys this really didn’t have to be celebrated.” You tell them, once again looking at all the food on the counter. 

All of them instantly wave you off a layer of replies rolling over you varying from “you deserve it” to “Tony just wants to party” which makes you laugh. 

Said billionaire picks up two champagne flutes and hands one to you. 

“Y/n, this is to a year of being the greatest of friends, a shoulder to cry on, and pretty much the most important member of this team.” Tony holds his glass up and everyone follows in agreement.

Most important member is a stretch in your opinion but they all seem to think so. 

Taking a sip, you realize this orange juice is mixed with champagne. Which you should’ve expected from Tony. 

Everyone starts to dig into the breakfast, chatter filling the room like it usually does throughout the facility. 

“Y/n, congrats!” Peter exclaims, happily wrapping you in a hug that you return.“ I can’t believe it’s been a year. It’s like just yesterday I was learning your name right? And now we’re like best friends.” The boy rambles.

Chuckling, you give him another one armed hug,“ I was starting to see you as more of a little brother actually.”

His brown eyes light up, just like they had on Christmas.“ I’ve never had an older sister before.” 

“I know.” You chuckle again.

He smiles brightly once again and gives you another hug,“ I’m glad we met Y/n.” 

“Me too Pete.” You rub his back and then pull away. The both of you then going to fix a plate.

Setting your overflowing plate(thanks to Tony’s persistence) on the table, you move to pull your chair out, only for a certain redhead to pull it out for you. 

“One full year huh?” She winks at you and sits in the chair next to you. 

One year with the team and six months with her. 

All that time seemed to fly by in the moment but looking back on it now it’s like more than a year. A year of building these incredible friendships and the most important relationship you’ve had. 

“Crazy right.” You breathe a laugh.

Natasha leans towards you, arms supporting her on the table,“ call me corny but, this has been the best year of my life.” 

Your hand reaches up to cup her cheek,“ I couldn’t agree more,” the two of you meet for a short sweet kiss,“ also you are corny.” 

Laughing, the woman rolls her eyes and kisses you again. 

“As cute as you two are, I’d rather eat my food without all the PDA.” Wanda’s voice invades the small moment. 

“Sorry Wan.” You smile softly at her.

The younger woman waves you off,“ I was only joking. Partly.” 

When the rest of the team sits at the table, you take a moment to thank all of them. Not just for the breakfast but for being so welcoming and just incredible in general. 

All the relationships you’ve built wouldn’t have happened without them. And you wouldn’t have been able to help them if they didn’t trust you. 

They raise another glass to your thanks and Tony tells you it’s only the tip of the iceberg since he’s throwing you a party later. You’re quick to tell him that’s not necessary but he informs you it’s all planned already. 

There hadn’t been a “Stark Party” in a while according to the team. Sam and Peter were quick to thank you, saying they didn’t think there’d be one if you hadn’t showed up. 

You hadn’t been to one of Tony’s parties in years. Since long before both snaps. 

So you are, admittedly, excited for it. After you’ve gotten dressed you wait an hour after the party had started, as Tony asked you to, before heading out. And even though you were expecting the surprise, the number of people that shout “Happy One Year!’ to you startles you.

An excited laugh leaves your lips and once again Tony approaches you first. 

“Okay,” you nod,“ I’ll admit this is pretty great.” You smile at him as the two of you hug. Pulling away you then look to his wife.“ Pep, it’s great to see you.” 

She squeezes you tightly,“ I hate that you’ve been here a year and we’ve barely spent any time together.” 

Your eyes widen in agreement,“ I know. It’s been way too long since we’ve had a wine night.” 

Together the two of you quickly plan a night to do so. Pepper then urging you to go mingle. And you do, making your way through the large crowd of people, those you’ve met and others you’re positive you’ve never seen before. 

Until you approach a pair of both someone you know and someone you’ve only heard of.

“Y/nn!” 

A smile bursts across your face the second she smiles at you. The blonde woman’s energy contagious. 

“Carol! I missed you.” You hug her close, reminded of the months it’s been since she was last here.“ You didn’t have to travel all the way through the galaxy for this but I’m glad you’re here.” 

Her hands rub your arms as she pulls away,“ me too. I’ve missed you.” She then steps back, hand resting on the back of the woman you assume to be her girlfriend,“ Y/n this is Maria Rambeau. Maria this is Y/n.”

Maria smiles at you, holding her hand out,“ Carol’s told me a lot about you, it’s a pleasure.” 

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine. This one doesn’t shut up about you when we talk.” You say teasingly, chin nodding to Carol who’s cheeks tint pink. 

The smile Maria sends to Carol is full of nothing but love and adoration. And if there was ever any doubt that Carol loved her, the smile she returns throws it out the window. But you knew.

Your body stiffens in shock when a hand presses to your lower back and you quickly relax once the familiarity of the soft skin and cold temperature hits you.   

Your girlfriend smiles over at you and you don’t even fight the urge to place a kiss to her cheek. Afterwards looking back at Carol and Maria.“ Maria this is my girlfriend Natasha. Tash this is Maria, Carol’s girlfriend.” 

“Nice to meet you. Carol’s told me a bit about you.” Natasha nods to the woman.

All the while Carol is smiling proudly at you, which you shake your head at in amusement. 

The blonde quirks a brow,“ girlfriend huh? And how long has that been going on?” Her tone is teasing and curious. 

Brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, you mumble,“ six months.” 

Carol’s proud smile becomes knowing and you swear the heat rushing to your face could be felt around the room. 

Natasha, being the god send she is, excuses the two of you. Gracefully pulling you through the crowd to the designated dance floor. 

She pulls you to stand in front of her. Those cold hands circling your waist, hands locking behind you at the dip in your back. 

Focusing on this moment, your eyes scan her face, taking in her perfect lips, her cheekbones and those tiny dimples, and those eyes. God you swear those eyes were the start of it all. 

“You’re so pretty Natasha.” Your hands grip her hips a little tighter.

A smirk curves her lips,“ and you’re beautiful.” 

Despite your blush, you jokingly add,“ well you’re gorgeous.” 

She laughs, forehead resting on your shoulder,“ getting competitive are we?”

“Maybe a little.” You kiss her temple just before she lifts her head.

The two of you continue to sway to the lowly playing soft music, completely entranced by each other’s presence. 

For the last six months the two of you have reveled in these moments together. Some days you could spend together completely. Others you had to steal minutes throughout just to see each other. But it was all perfect.

Learning about Natasha has just proven to make you fall for her more and more. You could safely say your list of reasons why you like her has become reasons why you love her and it’s definitely grown longer.

As all good things come to an end, you’re pulled from your moment with Natasha, by the hand on your shoulder. It’s unexpected which startles you but you’re further startled by the force of the emotions hitting you.

You spin around and lock eyes with Bucky. The anxiety you’d just felt from him is hidden in his eyes, had he not touched you, you wouldn’t have known. 

His jaw clenches,“ can we talk?”

“Of course.” You nod, hand squeezing Natasha’s waist as you mumble an excuse me, and walk away with Bucky. 

Once in an empty hallway he turns to you, his feelings now showing. Fingers wringing together, his teeth abuse his bottom lip, and his eyes remained trained on the ground. 

Knowing not to touch him unless told to, you choose to speak softly,“ Buck, I can tell you’re incredibly anxious. What’s going on?” 

“I-” he swallows and when his eyes meet yours there are tears welling in them,“ I saw someone. Someone from HYDRA. I- I don’t know if I’m seeing things or if they were actually here.” 

This was a recurring problem with Bucky. One you’d discovered while taking him and Steve to the mall one day. Being in such large crowds overwhelmed the man, triggering his anxiety which in turn triggered hallucinations. 

When you addressed it then he revealed that he’d been experiencing these highly anxious moments for a while. The first time the hallucinations had him was months before you’d gotten there while he and Steve were out together. 

At that point you’d begun working him through breathing exercises. Coming up with ways to help him cope with the anxiety so that it wouldn’t reach a point where he hallucinated. 

“Bucky breathe. Five seconds in and out.” He starts to do as instructed. 

You then walk him through his five steps. Listing five things he can see, four things he can hear, three things he can feel, two things he can smell, and one thing he can taste. 

He’s calmed down but you can tell he’s still anxious.

“Hey,” your hands rub his arms,“ I’m gonna make it go away okay?” 

Brown eyes look into yours and he nods. 

Taking a deep, stilling breath in, you take away his major anxiousness, and project the happy excitement you’ve been feeling to him. 

Bucky brightens instantly, giving you a small smile, and squeezing your arms.“ I- thank you Y/n.” 

“Anytime Buck.” 

You wait for the man to disappear around the corner before collapsing to the ground. Your back presses to the wall as you breathe heavily. 

“Y/n?”

Overly anxious, you involuntarily jerk away from the redhead beside you. 

The woman’s heart races as she looks at you, eyebrows pinched together,“ Y/n what’s wrong?” 

“Just- hold on.” You speak through deep breaths. 

Natasha waits with you until you calm down. When your body finally untenses and you sag against the wall, your girlfriend moves to kneel in front of you. 

Fingers grazing your legs she asks, with a soft demanding tone,“ what was that?”

“It was nothing. I’m fine I promise.” 

“That wasn’t fine. When you left you you were fine. Just now, you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” She presses. 

You push your hands up your face and through your hair,“ I didn’t. I was just-”

“Using your powers on Bucky.” She finishes, an almost hard look setting in her eyes. 

Her words take you by surprise. 

When she found out about your powers is lost on you. And what did she know about them? 

Eyes wide, you can barely ask what she’s talking about before she speaks again.“ Have you been using your powers on everyone this entire time?” 

“I- yes.” 

“And you weren’t going to say anything?” She stands. 

Following suit, you stand as well,“ I was going to tell you but I didn’t want to worry you. And I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle it-”

A deep frown covers her brow,“ you never even gave me a chance. Am I correct in assuming you’ve been lying to me then? All those times I came to see you after your session and you told me you were fine?”

“That wasn’t necessarily a lie. I was fine it just took me a minute.” 

“Necessarily?” Green eyes narrow at you.“ Lying is lying I don’t care how technical you want to get about it. I do care that you’ve constantly been telling me to trust you and be honest, yet you’ve been lying since the beginning.” 

You open your mouth to protest or object but she’s right.“ Tash I’m sorry okay. I swear I was planning to tell you.”

“Planning or not, you lied. You could’ve just told me you weren’t ready to talk about it. How was lying the better option?” A deep sigh leaves the woman’s lips and she runs a hand through her hair, before simply turning to leave. 

“Wait Ta-”

She holds her hand up,“ don’t follow me Y/n. I need a minute. Just go enjoy your party.” 

With that she leaves you in the hall alone. And you can only blame yourself.

* * * * * *

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[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #5

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Iolite of Cloudy Skies

Iolite. Its Japanese name was “blue flower stone”. The gem was blue with a purple tint stronger than that of a sapphire and had a unique viscosity that made it seem as if it was coated with a bit of dew. The level of hardness was seven. It was called iolite when treated as a gemstone, but when treated as a type of mineral, it was also called cordierite. It was an eccentric stone, which also appeared to have a grayish brown color instead of blue depending on the angle that one looked at it. Etc., etc.

“What happened, Seigi? Your eyes are dead.”

“How can I put it...? Surfeit, I guess.”

“Haah?”

I couldn’t memorize the stones’ names. They were too many.

The client who left just now had come because they wanted to see many sorts of blue stones, so Richard’s treasure box was packed with a great variety of blues. There were sapphires, of course, and also tanzanites, lapis lazuli, blue chalcedonies and this iolite.

Half a year before I had started working part-time in Etranger, the image I had of gemstones was limited to things such as diamonds, rubies, sapphires and emeralds, I believed. Now I knew about the existence of a stone named zircon, which shone in the same way as a diamond, and also knew about the spinel, which was red like a ruby, as well as that the color of sapphires was not just blue, having a wide range from purple to yellow, and I had seen transparent jades that were impossible to tell apart from emeralds.

If I had as much knowledge of minerals as Tanimoto-san, I would’ve managed to sort stones inside my head by the differences the in chemical composition of each, but unfortunately, I was unfamiliar with such things, and I currently didn’t have enough enthusiasm or willpower to study them. If I were to explain figuratively, it felt like going out to hunt for clams at a beach, and when you innocently dove into the lake, you’d see the Mariana Trench spreading out below. It was a beautiful world, thus also too wide and too deep. And endless. To a terrifying extent.

When I told him roughly this, Richard laughed, the depths of his throat trembling with giggles. “It is not as if you are aiming to obtain a GIA or FGA qualification or anything, right? Isn’t it all right for you to observe as much as you like?”

“That might be the case, but...”

I found myself thinking that it was a waste.

After all, I’d be on my knees listening as Richard went, in earnest, through the trouble of introducing all kinds of stones to me one by one. I often heard from my senpais that “job hunting is a connection for people”, so I felt sorry that my connection with stones remained scoreless. Regardless, it wasn’t like I was suddenly going to get any smarter.

As I said this, Richard laughed again and beckoned me with a hand gesture. He then took something out of his suit’s pocket. One of those subdivision vinyl bags that I’d often see when he was handling jewels in the back room. It seemed there was an iolite inside. There was a label stuck to the bag packed with absorbent cotton, and something was written on it in horizontal letters. “Viking sunstone,” it read. Vikings? Like the ones that you’d imagine wearing horned helmets, carrying axes and coming from the sea on a ship? As I asked for confirmation, the jeweler nodded with a “precisely”.

“The words written on this label are associated with the former ‘purpose’ of the iolite. In the past, people used iolites as sun stones.”

“‘Used’ them as ‘sun stones’...?”

I didn’t understand anything from A to Z. What did that mean? For starters, why was gem of such a cold-looking color made into a stone of the sun?

Before I even had a breach to ask, the beautiful shopkeeper began talking, a smile ghosting his lips, “You might already know this, but a portion of the people residing in the current Britain are descendants of those who went through the Norman Conquest that began around the ninth century - in other words, of the Vikings. They were famous for having the skills to travel long distances, which was unusual at the time, so Seigi. If you were someone who travels the sea for long periods, how would you know your way?” Richard asked me.

A means to know the cardinal directions in the open sea. So it was a situation where there’d be no piece of land to act as a mark. The only thing I could use in such a case was a magnet. No, wait. Richard had said earlier that it was the ninth century. The compass would be invented only much later. I recalled memorizing that this was the invention that triggered the Age of Discovery back in high school for history class. If so, I recalled the words on the label. “Sunstone”. Yeah, it connected.

“They knew the directions by using the stone of the sun?”

“Good for you. Exactly. Isn’t it clear?”

“K-Kinda!”

“Then, what about under cloudy skies, when the sun is not visible, Mr. Enlightened Part-Timer?”

Speaking of which, the weather changed easily at sea. I had also heard that England was a country where the skies tended to be overcast. Bad weather must be frequent in those coastal waters. If the sky stayed cloudy for three or four days, what should I do? Was there nothing more that could be done at sea?

When I made a puzzled face, Richard smiled as though he had hit the nail on the head, his white hands displaying the iolite under a fluorescent light. “For instance, let’s try to put a mark on any of this iolite’s faceted sides with ink. Another one on a different side. On sunny days, we would record in which direction we can see the sun from one of these two points at given times, and on cloudy days, we would look for parts where the two points overlap. When doing so, since this stone can detect even the faintest light, we would be able to tell the sun’s position,” he said.

“So we can know the position of light with that stone...? Then couldn’t it be any other stone?”

“Light refracts. If it were passing through thick clouds, the human eye would find its shine in a different direction from the sun’s actual position. Iolites acted as polarized lenses, so to speak. By using this stone, the sailors could tell the correct position of the sun. Yet the most famous sunstone is not iolite, but a type of refraction stone called ‘Iceland spar’.”

A polarized lens. Now he was talking about physics? But I did remember the stuff about light refraction. Got it; so that was why it was a “stone of the sun”.

“I don’t get it very well, but I feel the gemstone romance from it. I like that kinda thing,” I said enthusiastically, Richard giving me a calm smile.

“You do get it. Just as you said, you ‘don’t understand stones very well but like them either way’. That is exactly why your eyes were open, so you thought only about how far your destination was and felt your teeth set on edge at it. You mustn’t expect to be able to understand everything overnight. Go steady, without rushing. Do not waver at the impatience stuck back-to-back to your ambitions. That is different from having no one to depend on due to not knowing where you are headed. The hardest times are probably the ones when you have no idea where you should go, but you know the exact position of the sun.”

So, in short, I knew exactly where I wanted to be?

While I remained quiet, Richard shrugged and added, “Of course, this is a metaphor. Even if little by little, the stones should definitely be leaving a trace inside you. Aren’t you supposed to be treasuring this instead of chasing after what goes away?”

Lastly, Richard threw in the trivia that, in the world of power stones, the iolite was said to be a stone that showed people the “right direction”. Taking the backbone of it into consideration, that was indeed a convincing talk. But more than that...

“It’d be great if you were by my side forever.”

“Hah?”

“You’re an expert at noticing what’s troubling other people, aren’t you? I really think you’re a handy guy, like a compass. Aah, ‘the world’s most beautiful compass’, huh?”

“Those are quite irrational words, on top of being illogical. You were born in Japan, raised in Japan and aspire to become a public servant of Japan, so why are you calling an English jeweler a ‘compass’?”

“Well, I don’t plan to ask you about how to prepare for the public servant exams, but I can rely on you when I run into bigger problems, right?”

Richard sighed with a face of thorough dismay. I could understand how he felt. This was like a child in nursery school saying, “It’d be great if my teacher could always be there to help me out.” Long story short, I was acting spoiled. Even though he was my superior at work.

“That’s right; about the custard pie that today’s costumer brought, it looks like it’s quick to expire. Wanna eat it? I’ll make some tea.”

“If you would. Aah, the sugar...”

“Holding back on it this month, right? I know.”

“Help me with half of it. The amount of sugar in it concerns me.”

“Leave it to me.”

This guy was truly good at leading the mood around, and the same applied for the not-too-straightforward way that he phrased himself when recommending gemstones to the customers. Apparently, he thought I was feeling down.

I cut the crunchy pie in half while the tea leaves boiled, then shared it with Richard in the reception room and we both ate it. Covered with powdered sugar, the pie was a dangerous white little thing, as the colorless powder could scatter around from the pie’s surface just by us breathing on it a tiny bit, so the snack time turned into a moment of silence. I felt like laughing at the much too surreal sight several times, but if I happened to cause a big damage to the beautiful shopkeeper’s high-grade suit by doing that, my pay would be reduced. In the end, I ate the pie entirely while looking at the wall.

On the way back home that day, as I looked up at the night sky, I thought about the Vikings of over a thousand years ago. It was said that they were after new lands. What about me? Where was I headed? Would there ever be a day when I would fall into a philosophical concern, like, “I have no idea where I’m trying to go”? Perhaps Richard too? I insolently prayed that the stones may help us out at least in times like those.

Stars were beginning to twinkle in the purplish-blue night sky. There was no doubt that the stars appearing in the sky had not changed ever since the Vikings’ era. Thinking about that as I walked, I mistook one of the streets I should have turned. I had the feeling that I heard Richard’s voice, telling me to mind at least my own steps. I get it, geez.

I decided to wait patiently for the benefits of the stone. It was best for something like that not to happen, but there was no guarantee that both of us wouldn’t lose our ways at the same time one day.

[avengerscompound]

It’s You and Me - Chapter 15

It’s You and Me: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x  F!Reader

Word Count:  2165

Rating:  E

Warnings:  action, canon typical violence, mentions of past child sexual abuse

Synopsis: You and Clint Barton go way back.  Since you joined the circus as a child, he took it upon himself to keep you away from the people who really wanted to hurt you.  For years the two of you danced a line between dark and light.

When he chooses light the two of you go your separate ways.

Fifteen years later he tracks you down.  Those feelings the two of you shared never went away, but now he is not only an Avengers but a single father.  Can the two of you make it work after all this time when your lives have gone in such different directions?

A series told in flashbacks and current day.

Chapter 15: Now

“Alright, alright,” Clint said, holding his three kids at once.  “I’ll be back soon enough.  I promise.”

“We don’t want you to go,” Lila whined.

“I know, sweetheart,” Clint soothed.  “But there are a bunch of kids just like you that are in trouble right now, and I gotta go help them.  We’ll be back in a day or two.  I promise.”

Clint’s words of reassurance seemed to only make the kids cling to him even tighter.  You couldn’t blame them really - if you’d had a parent that had given half a damn about you, and you knew how easy it was to lose that, you wouldn’t want to let them go either.

“I’ll protect him,” you said.  “Anyone who tries to hurt your dad will have to get through me first.”

“Yeah, and she’s really tough.  Plus your Auntie Nat will be there.  So will Auntie Wanda, and Uncle Steve,” Clint assured them.  “I’ll be home soon, and Ebony’s gonna take really good care of you.”

“That’s right,” Ebony agreed.  “I will.  Plus, because you’re dad’s not here, I can give you as much candy as I want.”

Cooper and Lila reluctantly pulled away but when Ebony went to take Nate, he wailed and clung to Clint.

“Come on now, bud,” Clint soothed.  “I need you to be super brave, and someone needs to take care of Jasper.  You know he likes you best.”

Nate looked up and furrowed his brow.  “Weally?”

“Yeah, really,” you agreed.  “I think he likes you even more than he likes me.”

Nate reluctantly let himself be taken by Ebony and Clint quickly kissed the kids goodbye.  “This is really just a ‘go-in and arrest them’ thing,” Clint said to Ebony.  It was something he’d already told her three times, but she let him repeat it.  “Couple of days max.  I’ll call if I can but you can always call Pepper for a status report if you need to.”

“I know, I know,” Ebony said.  “Get out.  I’ve got this.”

He smiled at her and patted Lucky before heading out with you.  “Fuck, that does not get easier.”

“Yeah, well, they’re worried about you,” you said, taking his hand as the two of you descended the stairs.

“It was better when Laura was alive,” he said.  “They never loved me leaving, but there’d just be some tears.  Not this ‘clinging to me’ thing.”

“Well,” you said.  “The older two have lost two parents now, right?  Probably they’ve started thinking they’ll lose everyone.”

Clint stopped dead in the stairwell and looked back up the stairs.  “Fuck,” he cursed.

You took a few more steps before the tug of his hand made you realize that he wasn’t walking with you anymore.  “What?  You didn’t realize that?”

“I mean -” he shrugged his shoulders and started walking again.  “I guess part of me did.  I knew it was separation anxiety because they’d lost her.  But I guess I didn’t think that this was becoming a theme for them.”

“You can stay behind if you want,” you said.  “I am sure the rest of us can handle it.”

Clint shook his head.  “No,” he said.  “As much as I hate it, Jacques was one of my father figures.  I hate him - and I also kind of love him.  I need to see this out to the end.”

You nodded.  You knew exactly how he felt.  This was a long time in the making and you wanted to be there to take him down so you could have closure too.

When the two of you stepped out onto the street a van pulled up beside you and the back door slid open.  You and Clint jumped in and squeezed into a chair next to Bucky.  “How far do we have to go?”  Clint asked.

“I’d say a three or four hour drive.  Depending on traffic,” Steve said.

“We’re not taking the Quinn?”

“We didn’t want to give them a chance to spot us coming,” Steve said.  “The whole reason Swordsman keeps getting away from us is because he’s always one step ahead.  Tony and Sam are going to fly in once we get there.”

Clint nodded and shifted in his chair, pushing you against Bucky a little more.  “Hey, bird,” Bucky snarked.  “Wanna not spread out so much, we have a long fuckin’ drive.”

“Yeah?”  Clint teased.  “How about I do this instead.”

He leaned into you like he was going to kiss you.  You burst out laughing and pulled away from him, pushing further against Bucky.  “Get off me, you idiot!”  You squealed.

“Steve, you think I can drive?”  Bucky deadpanned as he pushed you both off of him.

It was dark by the time the van pulled up down the street from the large, yet run-down Queen Anne house that stood at the top of the hill, and everyone in the van was getting antsy.  It was the kind of house that kids would say a witch owned.  The yard was overgrown and brown, and the paint was all peeling from the timber of the house.   There was a large, rusty gate out the front and the walls that surrounded it were starting to crumble.  Somehow, despite never really knowing Jacques to have lived in a house, this was exactly the kind of place you could see him in.

You stretched a little as you stepped out of the back of the van, and Steve gathered you all into a huddle.

“From what we can tell, his security is top of the line, so don’t let the appearance fool you,” Steve said.  “Tread lightly, stay in the shadow.  He has a good view of the entire area, and if he’s alerted they’re all going to run.  You four, he said pointing to you, Bucky, Natasha, and Clint split up.  I want you to enter unseen, and block off the exits.  The rest of us will follow on when you give the signal.  Wanda, do your best to keep track of who’s in the building so we don’t lose anyone.”

“Yes, sir,” Wanda said.

“We all know our jobs?”  Steve said.  When no one replied he nodded.  “Then let’s go.”

You pulled your mask down and followed Natasha, Bucky, and Clint up the hill, keeping low and to the shadows.  When the four of you reached the stone fence, Natasha waved you and Clint in one direction and she and Bucky went in the other.

When you reached about halfway down the wall, you found a tree that - while it didn’t hang over the fence - it was close enough that the two of you could jump over.  Clint gave you a lift into the tree and you pulled him up after you.  Without a word the two of you ran along the branch that got you closest to the wall, and when the branch began to sag, you leaped, somersaulting in the air and landing crouched on the ground.

Clint wasn’t far behind you, and when he was safely inside the walls, you split up.  Clint continued his trip around the building, while you went straight for it.

You reached a dying hedge near the house and crouched behind it as you surveyed the building.  There was a cellar door near you and a trellis that ran up the side of the tower.  You knew the likelihood that both were alarmed was pretty high if what Steve said was true.

Bucky’s voice came through your comms.  “Winter Soldier in position.  No indication they’ve seen us.”

“Black Widow in position,” Natasha responded. “Awaiting orders.”

“Sugar Snap in position,” you echoed, remaining hidden in your spot and gazing over the house, looking to see if anyone seemed clued into your position.  There was movement in the house, but nothing that seemed to indicate that anyone was alarmed.

“Hang on, hang on…” Clint said, slightly breathlessly.  “Okay, Hawkeye in position.”

“Alright, we’re at the gate,” Steve said.  “Tony?  Sam?  You ready?”

“When you are, Cap,” Sam responded.

“Yeah, hurry it along,” Tony added.  “I want to go back to binging the Mandalorian.”

“Alright, team one, enter the building,” Steve said.  “Get as far in as you can go before tripping the alarms.”

You took off from your hiding spot, scaling the lattice until you reached the top window on the tower.  Using your sword you forced the window open, immediately setting off the alarms.  You ignored them, jumping through the window.  There was no one in the room, but there were a lot of computers, and on the table were photos of girls in compromising positions.  Your blood boiled seeing them, remembering back to when it was you being manipulated by the man who had said you’d be safe.

The sound of running echoed in the hall outside and you pulled your sword, readying yourself as the door burst open.

Jacques Duquesne hadn’t changed a lot in the past 18 years.  He was older, yes.  But aside from a few more lines on his face, and grey in his hair, but he still looked as fit as he ever had.  “Well, well, well,” he said, stopping short in front of you and pulling his own sword from its sheath.  “You’re all grown up.  Zelda said you were working with the Avengers now.”

“That’s right,” you said.  “And you are now going to go to prison for a very long time.”

He raised his sword.  “That’s adorable.  You think you’re going to get payback for something you agreed to willingly?”

“I was a kid!”  You shouted and charged at him.

He deflected you easily.  Your rage getting the better of you.  You spun around and attacked him again, and he shoved you aside.

“You really are so cute, ma petite,” Jacques taunted.  “Barton taught you with the blade, but he never was as good as me.”

He swung at you and knocked the blade to the side, but he pushed back, shoving your blade against you.  He was stronger than you, and you couldn’t match the brute force he was putting behind the attack.  You flipped backward and he swung the blade at you.  You watched it in slow motion as the blade swung under you and put your foot on the flat of the blade, balancing on it even as it moved.  You flipped back again and kicked him in the jaw, sending him reeling.

As you landed on the ground - sword at the ready - Jacques recovered, wiping the blood from his lip.  “I’m going to make you pay for that, you little bitch.”

“Come get it,” you hissed.

He swung at you, and you countered.  He swung again quickly, and each strike he made, you parried.  He was stronger and the better swordsman, but you were more agile and your need to beat him was greater.  You started to back him out into the hall, adrenaline spurring you on even as your arm began to tire.

You reached the stairwell, and Jacques cried out and spun, a spray of blood splattering your face even before you were even sure what had happened.  Jaques tripped and stumbled down the stairs and as he dropped from your line of sight, you saw Clint with his bow drawn and everything clicked into place.  Clint had shot him.

You jumped down the stairs after the swordsman and knocked him from his feet.  He landed on his back, and the arrow that had punctured his shoulder, pushed through it more, making him cry out.  You kicked his sword away and held your blade to his throat.  “Goodbye, Jacques,” you said, looking down into his eyes - revenge the only thing driving you.

“Sugar!”  Clint yelled.

You turned and narrowed your eyes at him.  “Why shouldn’t I?”

Clint approached you slowly like you were a wild animal ready to lash out.  “Because… you are better than him.”  He put his hand on your arm and looked you in the eye.  You could hear fighting in the rest of the building and you were vaguely aware that Steve was standing at the bottom of the stairs with his shield at the ready.  “Don’t let him pull you down to his level.  Not again.”

You looked back down at Jacques.  He was breathing heavily, but smirking at you - daring you to do something.  You took a deep breath, weighing your options.  For a moment it felt like both things were happening at the same time.  You were killing him and you weren’t.  He was dead and he was alive.  Schroedinger’s cat in real-time.  You swung your sword away and Clint pulled you into his arms.  Steve moved quickly, pinning Jacques to the ground, putting him in handcuffs.

“You and me, sugar,” Clint whispered.

You nodded and sagged against him as the adrenaline left your system.  You knew he was right.  You’d separated before because you’d both chosen different paths.  Now, you were choosing the same one, and you wouldn’t let anything come between you again.

// NEXT

[erin-bo-berin]

My Heroine

MASTERLIST

This fic was inspired by the song My Heroine by The Maine which you can listen to here, if you’d like. The song I’ve come to realize sounds like it can have multiple interpretations, but I was inspired to use the whole “reader is Spencer’s drug of choice” plot. Not gonna lie it was rough writing about his prison trauma cause I consider it to be one of his biggest traumas, but I kinda wanted this to be a journey from his avoidance of it to his eventual acceptance, all while sex is his “heroin” or the reader is the “heroine” in his story. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 4,460

I’m feeling pretty dirty baby

Forgive my sins

I get the feeling you can save me honey,

My heroine

The silver gleam from the sharp blade caught his eye as it hit the light. In any other circumstances, the sharpness of it might actually be considered  beautiful.

This was anything but beautiful.

This was horrifying.

The metal was so closely pressed to skin that even a small flinch could draw blood.

“Never ever mess with a man’s stash on the inside. When you do,” the man paused for a second—a millisecond—before the knife sliced across the skin, ripping the hostage’s throat open.

He struggled against the person holding him, his momentary shock and need to help his friend making him fight the grip of the big man, even more.

“People get hurt,” the first guy said, backing away.

The second man let go of him, his friend falling to the floor, choking on his own blood. While they made their departure from the laundry room, he ran to his injured friend’s side, grabbing a towel to hold against the wound.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated, kneeling over the only friendly face he’d known in the last weeks.

If he repeated it enough, he’d be okay. He had to be. 

“Guard!” he yelled.

His hands cradled his friend’s face as he lay gasping and wheezing, the fear in his eyes matching his own. 

In all the years, throughout all the things he saw that most normal people didn’t, he’d never been as terrified as he was right now. His heart raced from the fear and he was breathing heavy as he screamed as loud as he could.

“HELP! HELLLLP!”

Spencer shot up in bed, breathing hard.

His face was sweaty, his entire body was sweaty, in fact. His t-shirt clung to his skin.

He kicked off the covers, sitting on the side of his bed, running his hands through his hair. He tried in vain to calm his pounding heart and slow his breathing.

The nightmares hadn’t stopped. If anything, they’d gotten worse.

A rare burst of anger caused him to shove the object that was sitting on his nightstand, off of it with extreme force.

He glared at the journal on the floor where it had landed haphazardly. He didn’t want to write in it like his therapist suggested. It didn’t help him then and it wasn’t going to help him now.

He rubbed his eyes, trying desperately to erase all the images that constantly played behind his eyes, regardless if he was asleep or awake.

It was the middle of the night, but he knew what he needed. He grabbed his phone off the charger and sent a quick text.

I need a distraction.

The recipient would understand, he knew. It was only 1 am and they were known to be a night owl anyway. 

He grabbed a pair of pants to change into and pulled them on in place of his pajama pants. All he had to grab were his car keys and his phone and he was out the door.

-

It’d only been six months since Spencer had been released from prison in which he spent three long, grueling months in.

He had been framed.

That was the first thing he remembered thinking, even under the influence of heroin and cocaine, in which the unsub had drugged him with. He had been sitting in a prison cell in Mexico, but deep down he knew he hadn’t done anything, even if his mind was scrambled and tried desperately to convince himself otherwise.

Fucking Cat Adams. If she hadn’t been such a psychopath, he might’ve admired her intelligence and skills to pull off something so elaborate, but alas, she was.

Her and her female partner Lindsey Vaughn had been watching him, waiting to strike. All because Spencer had arrested Cat and outsmarted her. It’s where she belonged after all. She’d been a

hit woman, operating in the shadows of the dark web that even experts in the area couldn’t even fathom.

She, along with four other assassins had been working for years before any law enforcement even knew of their existence. Spencer and the rest of his fellow Behavioral Analysis team had been the only ones to get close enough to them. Close enough in fact, to take them all down, every last one.

Cat Adams though, had been the hardest one. She was one to play mind games and she hated to lose. Which she had against him; he’d outsmarted her and she was the one who’d landed in a prison cell.

Of course, being the kind of person she was, she wasn’t going to take that lying down. So, she returned the favor.

He had been determined to help his mother—Diana Reid—who’d been suffering from paranoid schizophrenia all his life, but now had been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s. He was smart, he was sure he could help her, fix her maybe.

There’d been a plethora of drug trials, medicine combinations, diet changes, but nothing helped. So without his teammates—who happened to be the closest friends he had—knowledge, he had been crossing the Mexico border numerous times to get medicine for his mother, one that was definitely not FDA approved.

It was one of these trips that Lindsey—and technically Cat too—had struck. 

She’d dosed him with a spray of scopolamine, pumped him full of cocaine and heroin and murdered the woman he’d been meeting to get the vials of medicine from.

It was bad, really bad. He was the prime suspect in the murder and that is how he ended up in Millburn Correctional Facility pending trial for three months.

Thankfully, the BAU had worked their asses off to clear his name, but in the time spent in prison he had experienced some pretty awful things.

If that hadn’t been bad enough, Cat had orchestrated another evil plan. Lindsey had managed to kidnap his mother.

Less than 12 hours after being released from jail, he was back in another one to face Cat again and play her games. 

She had been executed for her crimes and the additional charges she faced for framing him and kidnapping his mother. He wasn’t the least bit remorseful; if anything, he was glad he’d never have to deal with her again. He dealt with her in his mind enough as is.

Spencer didn’t deal with emotions very well, so it was no surprise to himself that he didn’t stop to process his trauma.

Instead, he found other outlets.

He’d known Y/N for several years but had done an awful job of keeping in touch as the years passed. He’d recently reconnected with her before his arrest and then he’d pulled away again.

He felt bad for never telling her until after the fact, but he’d been embarrassed enough. 

She was a good friend, one who had said she would do anything to help him if and when he needed it.

That’s how the arrangement began. It’d happened once, by accident, but it had helped him forget everything when he needed it the most.

Which is why at 1 a.m. he was headed over to her house, just to forget everything for a while.

Your hips, my hands, you swing and you dance

Yeah, I’m feeling pretty lonely baby 

Just let me in

Just let me in

The door to her apartment opened to reveal her barefoot and in a long, oversized t-shirt.

“Hey,” she greeted him.

He didn’t waste time with the greetings, he kicked the door closed with his foot and grabbed her face, kissing her.

Within minutes he had her pressed up against her door, hands roaming under her shirt as he kissed her hungrily.

He wanted to forget.

Needed to forget.

She moaned into the kiss. Lucky for him, she got horny easily. She was always ready to go at it whenever. Maybe it had something to do with him, although he didn’t know. He never really took the time to dwell on it.

His fingers stroked her bare stomach as his tongue moved against hers. Her hands clutched the bottom of his shirt, pulling away long enough to help him yank it over his head. Her shirt followed suit.

For a while, they stayed there, top halves pressed against one another as their lips moved together in a complicated, yet simple dance. 

They made out for a while, while Spencer forced his brain to empty and focus on her. It finally worked as he felt his crotch tighten, his need for her now more than just something to get him through the night.

She led him back to her bedroom and within minutes was kneeling in front of him, pulling his cock out of his pants.

“You gonna be a good little girl and suck my cock?” he mumbled, looking down at her with lidded eyes.

Normally, he would never fathom talking like this. But something had changed within him in the last six months. He was rougher around the edges, he quite literally didn’t give a fuck anymore. Which proved to be true since he quite literally had a fuck buddy—something the old Spencer wouldn’t even consider.

He cared about her, but like him, she didn’t want anything serious, so he never felt too bad taking advantage of her this way. Weren’t they both using each other anyway?

“Your wish is my command,” she purred, making his cock throb even more.

The moment her mouth touched him, his eyes closed in pure bliss, the feeling chasing the nightmares away.

His hand threaded in her hair, guiding her head as her tongue glided and mouth hollowed out, sucking him like her favorite popsicle. She was amazing at this, he definitely had to give her that.

“Y/N, fuck,” he groaned, his hips bucking up towards her mouth.

Her tongue was his gateway to an anxiety free mind—at least for the time being.

He pushed her away after a few minutes. He wasn’t going to last if she kept that up much longer.

With surprising agility, he’d had her from her knees to bent over the end of the bed in seconds.

Their sessions were far from romantic love making—the type of intimacy he knew she deserved—but more animalistic and frenzied. 

He knew he was selfish and instead of letting her have what she deserved from a man, he held tight to her like she was his lifeline.

In a way, she had become his lifeline. Things got worse the longer he tried to stay away from her. That’s why he always returned.

Her moans and the slap of their bodies were the only sounds heard in the room as he thrust deep into her. Even as fucked up as he was, he had to be an idiot to not admit that sex with her was incredible. She was incredible.

“Spencer, oh my god, fuck.”

Her words came out in a strangled moan as he’d switched up the movements of his hips. Instead of the fast and harsh thrusts, they turned into slow and deeper ones. He may only be her fuck buddy, but he was still gonna be damn sure she got her pleasure out of it too.

His fingers dug into her hips as he tried to erase the images of his earlier nightmare with every thrust. Usually, it worked. Tonight though, he was struggling.

Instead of disappearing, the memories kept flashing through his head like a silent movie on repeat.

The helplessness everyone felt in that prison.

The fear he felt.

The images of a group of white men who pointed a knife in his face his first full night in prison.

Two, sneering and sadistically joyful faces hovering over him as they beat him to a pulp, smothering his face with a rag.

His desperate decision in doing something so awful that it hurt more men than he intended it to.

The constant paranoia.

The fear he had become a monster.

Every single moment inside he’d spent that he had to make choices he’d never fathomed he’d have to—only to survive.

Delgado.

“Switch it up,” he muttered, pulling out of her, turning her around.

His jaw was tense, his body was rigid. All he wanted was one orgasm to erase his nightmare.

Her eyes narrowed, sensing his tension but knowing better than to comment on it.

“Let me take care of you,” she whispered.

She pushed him towards the head of the bed, ordering him to sit against it. He did as he was told, focusing all of his attention on her again.

When she climbed into his lap to straddle him, his breathing had become ragged and he was glad that the stirrings of his arousal were coming back—his sexual attraction to her luring him back in again.

She sank down on him and he exhaled sharply, groaning lowly. The feeling of her tight around him was always like drinking water after being utterly parched.

“You like that?” she purred, her hands resting against his chest, “You like when I take care of you?”

“Very much so,” he growled.

He thread his hand into the back of her hair, pulling her face towards his. He kissed her roughly, his lower half meeting the speed she’d set since she was now the one in charge. Her pelvis grinded against his, giving her even more pleasure, he was sure.

As much as he did this for his benefit, he also had a small sense of pride in knowing he could make her moan and writhe like he did. His hands cupped her breasts, massaging them and she threw her head back with a loud moan. 

He could practically fall apart at that sight alone, but he managed to resist.

His lips attached to her throat, sucking harshly, sure to leave a mark. Their moves were frantic as she gripped the headboard and he bucked relentlessly into her.

They both spiraled into ecstasy, not that far apart from one another.

Sweaty and out of breath, she moved off of him, gathering her clothes and tossing his own to him.

“Want something to eat before you go?”

She asked it so nonchalantly it was as if he hadn’t just spent about half an hour buried to the hilt in her.

“No, thanks though.”

He wasn’t one to stay long after the deed, even though a part of him felt like an ass for it. Y/N didn’t deserve that. But if it ever bothered her, she never let on.

She nodded, watching him as he finished pulling his shirt over his head.

“I’m around, if you need me.”

Spencer gave a nod and headed to the door, grabbing his car keys on his way out.

You’re my heroine, but you’re suicide 

If I let you in you’ll crawl inside 

You save my skin

But you can’t wait to sink in 

My heroine

In a way, Y/N had become his drug.

Whenever things got too hard, he went to her. But lately, it was like every time he fucked her, it only left him needing more.

His PTSD was getting worse, the sex was only distracting him for so long, but he was stubborn. He wasn’t going to give her up anytime soon.

The PTSD was also affecting his work and he knew it.

It’d been six months since his release from prison, but he’d only been reinstated for three months. He worked his ass off to get his position back and he wasn’t about to let his emotions get the best of him.

He was currently trying to focus on the geo profile in front of him, but his vision kept blurring. He rubbed his eye, trying hard to block out everything else but this case.

He was becoming increasingly irritable as well.

It had only been a week since his last visit to Y/N, but he was craving her and her distractions so much. His nightmares hadn’t ceased, he was hardly sleeping and his teammates weren’t oblivious.

They knew he was having a hard time readjusting.

Spencer doubted they knew just how bad it really was though.

The map blurred in front of his eyes again, the sight being replaced with moving pictures, his memories being played before his eyes.

Like the time he was so desperate to survive, he poisoned drugs that he was supposed to move, instead of getting involved with the situation.

He ended up causing several men to get incredibly sick—his guilt over that still haunted him at night.

Prison was an incredibly dangerous place and he had been too good of a person to survive as long as he had.

For a while he’d had two friends; Delgado and Shaw.

One was murdered in front of him.

The other turned out to be using him. Shaw ran the entire prison population. He called the shots and people listened to him. But Spencer wanted no part of that.

Making an enemy of Shaw had been deadly. In fact, it came close to being deadly. Spencer could’ve easily lost his life behind bars.

It had been months since he had been locked up, but the sense of helplessness he felt still haunted him to this day. It smothered him like the sweltering heat on a hot, summer day.

He rubbed his palms into his eyes. He felt like he couldn’t breathe while at the same time his heart rate accelerated. His sense of fight or flight was being triggered and he couldn’t stop the sense of dread that was engulfing his senses.

“Spence, you okay?”

“Yeah, I just need some fresh air,” he answered, brushing past a worried JJ.

The moment he exited the crowded police station and the cool air hit his face, he felt fractionally better, but the anxiety still gripped him.

He gripped his tie, yanking at it and loosening it, so he could breathe. The feel of it around his neck had been making him feel like he was suffocating more so than he already had been.

His therapist had told him panic attacks were normal with PTSD, but he hadn’t had them much. This was an exception apparently.

He leaned against the brick of the building and tried to focus on his breathing to bring his heart rate down. After all he’d endured, he wasn’t about to let a damn panic attack take him down.

His eyes were closed as he tried to calm down, so he didn’t hear Luke approaching.

“Reid.”

He opened his eyes, seeing his teammate Luke Alvez, standing next to him. 

He wondered how he currently looked through Luke’s eyes. A mess, probably. 

Luke didn’t beat around the bush, either.

“Your PTSD has gotten worse, hasn’t it?” he asked, gently.

Spencer shrugged.

“Spencer, if you need to take some time—”

“I don’t need to take time off because I’m fine,” he snapped.

Luke flinched as if Spencer had physically hit him. If anything, he knew that his outburst was just further proof at how not okay he was.

“I need to get back to work,” he mumbled, moving around Luke to head back inside.

He wasn’t sure of anything much lately, but one thing he knew for sure was when they got back from the current case, he was heading straight to Y/N’s apartment.

I feel a little withdrawal baby,

Come pick me up

Took a hit from your level

Now I just can’t get enough 

Your taste, my touch

A little bit of love and a whole lot of lust 

He was back at her door, knocking.

She opened the door, dressed in another oversized t-shirt—due to the late hour of night—and greeted him with a wordless nod. Somehow, he thought she knew that he was having a bad time today.

He looked like shit, that he knew. His hair was a mess of tangled curls, his eyes were bloodshot and deep, dark bags shined brightly under his face, darker than his normal appearance. His cheekbones were more prominent lately as well since he wasn’t eating much, nor was he sleeping well either.

“How do you want me?” she asked.

Her tone was dull and to the point and threw him off guard for a moment. She’d never made it about her, ever. But now, looking at her, he could see her unhappiness. Whether he caused it or not, he was unsure.

This arrangement of theirs had been only to help him forget. Too quickly, it had become like an addiction for him. She was like his drug. He needed her to forget. But maybe, at the same time, she was tired of trying to help him when he couldn’t even help himself.

He promised himself that this would be the last time. Once more and he’d let her go. He’d let her be free of him. She’d be happier anyways.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said.

He tried to be gentle as he pulled her towards him. As he kissed her, he felt her body melt into his. Maybe he had been imagining her mood earlier.

He tried to focus on getting hard, not on all the horrors that constantly swirled in his mind.

His lips moved swiftly with hers in a kiss that was anything but romantic or gentle. It was lust driven and filled with his own desperate need to be distracted.

She knew exactly what to do to get him in the mood, that’s for sure. 

Her teeth tugged at his lower lip gently, her tongue almost the complete opposite of their current actions. It was gentle and hesitant as it met his before continuing its dance with his own.

He pulled her closer, his hand tangled in her hair as he kissed her more roughly, pushing her against the arm of her couch.

In the blink of an eye, he had her turned around and bent over the arm, his hand gliding over the silk material of her underwear. He felt a small swell of pride hearing her moan as he touched her. It also went a long way in helping his own arousal which was now throbbing in his pants.

He was already unbuttoning his pants as he kissed her neck, his hips pressing into hers. The more he got into it, the more he actually felt that he wanted this—that he wanted her.

With one smooth movement, he had her underwear pulled down to her thighs and he entered her with a groan.

But he couldn’t focus. 

Somehow, without him realizing it, the memories had slipped through a crack in his mind.

Instead of being there with Y/N, he was back in that cell.

The countless hours sitting in a cell, trying to remember something he never did.

The desperation, the helplessness in that place.

Familiar faces he dealt with sped across his mind.

Malcolm, Shaw, Delgado, Wilkins. Frazier, Duerson, the two men who gave him a beating meant for Delgado.

The fear he felt in those final days when he had no one to trust, when he had to stab himself in the leg to get into solitary confinement, just to stay alive.

The horrible memories were flashing in his head at the speed of lightning.

“Ow! Spencer, you’re hurting me.”

Spencer snapped back to the present, realizing his fingers were creating bruises on Y/N’s hips from his too tight grip.

“This isn’t working,” he said in way of an apology, pulling out of her.

He was already going soft anyway, the previous arousal now completely gone and replaced by his racing thoughts and memories.

“It’s fine,” she muttered, pulling down her t-shirt and pulling up her underwear.

He had just zipped up his suit pants—he’d come straight from the jet—when she spoke again.

“Actually, no. It’s not okay.”

Spencer blinked in surprise at her harsh tone. He didn’t think he’d ever heard her raise her voice.

“I’m sick of this Spencer! I know we started this a while ago for...reasons,” she flapped her hand in midair as if demonstrating all the unsaid things between them.

“But I can’t do it anymore. I care about you Spencer. Honestly right now I don’t know if it’s as more than a friend or just as a friend but that’s another can of worms to open another time. You can’t keep doing this! You can’t keep coming to me and fucking me to try and rid your demons. You’ve been through a hell of a lot and you didn’t deserve any of it, but I’m not going to stand her and watch my friend destroy himself because he refuses to get the help he so desperately needs.”

Spencer stood, frozen in place, mouth agape. It was then he saw tears shining in her eyes.

“We have a lot to sort out between us, eventually, but you need to help yourself first,” she whispered, as if feeling defeated by her previous outburst.

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what he could say.

“I know facing everything, processing it all is a scary feeling, Spencer. Even if you tried reaching out to a friend to talk through it, that would be a big step. I just...I just want you to get better.”

A single tear slid down her cheek and he did the worst possible thing to do.

He fled her apartment like the coward he was.

•

He didn’t go home. 

Instead, he walked around the city as the daylight receded and the sun slipped behind the horizon, saying goodnight to the world until the next day.

He spent a lot of time thinking.

He ended up dashing into a busy diner he came across as the night sky opened up and rain began falling in sheets.

He sat in his booth, absentmindedly sipping on the cup of coffee he’d ordered and watched the rain fall in the darkness outside.

In an ironic way, the weather outside was similar to the turmoil he felt inside. 

Just like the completely blackened sky outside, he felt just as dark and empty. The storm was similar to the storm of emotions, memories, traumas he continually tried to squash, all in the wrong ways.

He knew ignoring his problems wouldn’t make them go away; he also knew using sex as a distraction was the worst possible thing to do as well, yet he’d continued to do it and he’d hurt more than just himself in the process.

He’d hurt his friends, who’d only wanted to help, but pushed them away. He’d hurt Y/N, who didn’t deserve to be treated like a plaything, yet he kept coming back, making things worse.

By the time he’d finished his coffee, he decided what he wanted to do. What he knew he needed to do.

I’m feeling pretty lonely baby,

So just let me in

Just let me in 

He’d ran through the pouring rain. He didn’t even bother to try to take any transportation. The rain felt like it was washing him clean from the horrors of the last year.

He was back at her door, but this time, for a different reason. 

He was soaking wet and felt a lot like a dog with his tail between his legs, but he refused to chicken out once again. So, he knocked.

She answered, this time in actual pajamas rather than the attire she was in hours before.

Maybe it was the expression he wore or something she saw in his face because she didn’t immediately slam the door in his face—something he knew he deserved. She stood patiently, almost questioningly, waiting for him to speak first.

He took a deep breath before speaking the words he should’ve uttered months ago.

“I’m ready to talk. I’m ready to get the help I need.”

TAG LIST: @dreatine @reid-187 @groovyreid  @iamburdened @cindywayne @sundippedprincess @missprettyboy @hushlilbabydoll @sammy-jo1977 @haileymorelikestupid @lemonypink @teamkiall @redbullchick @ifeelloved @one-sweet-gubler @nanocoool @delightfullyspeedyearthquake @unsteadyimagines @ughitsbaby @inkwiet @pennythetechgoddess @capt-engr-ssa @sixx-sic-sixx @spencersdolore @alvezstan @disney-dreams-world @chocolatecalzoneherringbonk @mggwhore @andiebeaword @cupcake525 @be-the-bravest @gretaamyk @hopebaker @prisonreid @httpnxtt @daviddoughboy @pastathighs @marvels-gurl @blushingspencer @simp-for-mgg @victorzsaszmydaddy @inlovewithamess @im-inlovewith-mycar @xshakesqueerx @queenofmischief @mattgraygubler @gracelovesyouu @itsarayofsunshine​ @alexisparmentier @la-vie-en-amour1​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @itsmytimetoodream​ @saintd0lce​ @cherryxblossoms​ @jessaminelovelace​ @rainsong01​ @zhangyixingxing1​ @eforrester @kissessforharryyy @onlypsychosarepsychmajors​ @gublergirls​ @cielo1984 @reminiscing-writer

[sanders-sides-fic]

We all pretend (to be the heroes on the good side)

So… This got real angsty real quick. I didn't intend for it to be that bad. But it went there… So… Yeah.

This is the prompt I was using

Trigger warnings: vaguely implied coma, vaguely implied character death, implied fall, abandonment, ability to move inanimate objects like they're alive

Virgil Sanders.

Most people didn't know that name. Some did, but not nearly as many as knew him. Weird, wasn't it? To be known, without your name being uttered. Maybe that was still part of his history.

He hadn't started out on this side of the fight. A few years ago he'd been feared beyond compare. "Nightmare", that's what they used to call him. Back when he'd been pushed into that role without a visible way out. He didn't have a choice back then, or, at least that's what he used to think.

Then, one night shit got down. He destroyed every connection he'd had, severed every bridge, left everything behind. "Nightmare" became "Anxiety" at that time. A villain-turned-vigilante, who didn't use his powers to terrorise his opponent's minds until they were unable to fight, but answered to the terror people around him felt instead.

Back then he'd started to work with some of his former enemies. They took him in well, everything considered. And he couldn't deny that they helped him a lot. He would sometimes join hands with "the brain", and occasionally even with his reluctant friend and Virgil's former nemesis "the prince".

There were a lot heroes with a "the" in their names, surprisingly.

Now, he couldn't tell anymore when it had happened. But at some time he found himself influenced by their heroic antics, and he took on the name of "storm cloud". His hero name. He teamed up with the brain in his mandatory probation, the so-called introduction phase before his official debut with title of hero. Sadly the name a common friend had offered for their team had been rejected by the hero in question. "Mind storm" would have been awesome, though, right?

And then things started to become brighter in his little world. Hell, his entire career was nothing more than a redemption arch.

That's why he was often times called "the light of hope" by the people. Light of hope, my ass! They were just relieved to see not every villain was beyond help. That was the only reason they liked him, if you'd asked him. Publicity.

That was what he kept thinking about in that moment, when he found himself facing off with his current nemesis. The golden snake was… an old acquaintance. A villain that'd only become a villain because of him. Or, because he wasn't a villain anymore. A villain that Virgil secretly couldn't bring himself to hate because of that, even after everything that had transpired between the two of them.

What even was this, really? A fight between a hero and a villain? If so, who was who? Virgil couldn't tell anymore. He didn't know who he was anymore. It was so… What was the word?

Ack! No time to think of it. He jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding the snake's poisonous fang. Ja- the villain had become quite good at this by now. Virgil was really driven to the edge of the building. Luckily there were no more civilians around, but he could still see reporters, some persistent fans, and police officers taking away the snake's underlings out of the corner of his eyes.

The wind blew strong this night.

A bolt of purple lightning shot towards Jan- the villain. It was stoped by the snake of pure gold he controlled so delicately without ever reaching him. Of course. What had Virgil expected? This villain was outstanding. Like he'd always had been.

Virgil tried again, the lightning coming from his finger tips getting harder to control by the second. Too many people, too much fear in the air, too little time to concentrate. And the villain knew this. Virgil could see his smirk underneath the shadow of his hat.

"Just give up, dark and stormy night! You can't hang on for much longer."

Virgil gritted his teeth and fired another bold of lightning. "And let you escape when we got this far? Big chance." Though he did want to do that, if he was being honest.

A laugh so hauntingly familiar and yet a far cry from what he used to know resounded through the tense air. "Suit yourself, then!" Another snake, another step back, pushing the golden puppet away from him with his lightning, parry, attack, cutting off the escape route, damn it all and…

And there was no more building under his feet. His hand somehow managed to grip the edge of the building, fortunately. He would decidedly not look down. And if the people around him would kindly stop sending their fear about him falling towards him, that'd be great, thanks!

He could see the golden snake stepping forward leisurely. "Told you so, dearest." With a smirk the snake retreated.

Well, from the sounds of it, Ro would arrive any moment now. He could hear him in the distance. So he only needed to hand on. Just a bit more. Even though his breath was heavy, and his muscles ached, and there was so much fear it felt like his powers were going to explode, and he was tired, and…

At that moment Virgil realised for the first time how tired he actually was. And he started to wonder what would happen if he would let go of the edge. Five fingers desperately hanging on. Now four. For how much longer? How long until Ro arrived? How much longer did he have to hang on?

What would happen?

Well, he would probably die. Splash, unsightly and painful. Sure. But, aside from that? Who would care? Who would actually care about it? Ro, who only accepted him after fighting so much to prove he was even a bit trustworthy? Lo, who had taken him in because he wanted to prove the point of villains deserving a second chance?

Would there be an official memorial? Like with other heroes? Or would there be merely a single line in the newspaper, like with the villains? Maybe there'd be a few lights on the edge of the street in his colour, like some did for vigilantes they especially adored.

But that would also be the end of so much bad stuff, right? No more pressure, no more screams in his head, no more false smiles, no more… No more tiredness accumulating in his bones.

Was that what would happen?

"No!"

The sudden desperate cry from the villain's mouth startled him out of his thoughts. And, oh… Oh, fuck. Oh, shit! Oh, in that moment of sudden stupidity he'd actually let go, without even fully noticing, hadn't he?

And again, the voice he'd always be able to recognise, no matter where he would hear it: "No! Don't you dare die! Not here, not like this, not now."

It was too late, though. And had Ro arrived yet? He could still see the shocked fans, the officers, the people up there. Frozen. They didn't move as he fell down to his inevitable death. But the villain? He did, he leapt towards the edge, as though he was still within reach.

And Virgil, no, Storm Cloud couldn't help but let out a startled laugh at the irony of it all. How ironic it was, he thought just before his vision went dark, that the only hand reaching out to him, the hero, the so called "light of hope"… the only hand reaching out to him now was that of his nemesis.

Maybe not hating the villain wasn't that stupid of a secret, after all.

❦

"Oh? So how do your powers work, then?" Janus looked up at him through his thick eyelashes, a content smirk on his face as Virgil played with his hair.

"I can hear their fears. They scream in my head, and I can feel their anxiety on my skin." Virgil thought about how to best describe it, fingers changing directions to trial the snake tattoo Janus had on his left cheekbone. "It's like static in the air. And I can either wait until it explodes, or I can let it free. That's what those lightnings are, just… The tension from the air gathered into sheer fear. If I condense it enough, it makes them pass out from fear."

Janus sighed, mismatched eyes closed. "Mine's so stupid in comparison. So I can control metal that looks like animals, wow. It's useless, really. Like, what am I? A fucking jewellery box? Stupid!"

Virgil couldn't help but laugh at that. "Yeah, yeah. But it's fine, isn't it? Since I was able to capture you that way. If you hadn't become my hostage, you wouldn't be with me right now."

"Like me!" The two of them startled, looking at the man hanging upside down from the ceiling. "Though I suppose I'm less hostage and more freeloader…"

"You both are technically freeloaders," Virgil corrected with a smirk "and I didn't kidnap you. You followed me and begged me to take you in because your brother's my enemy. What was it again that you said?"

"I'm leverage so you don't kill him! So I am a hostage. A willing one, though. And it's not bad, you don't torture me or anything. You're surprisingly gentle for a villain…"

"Yeah, well, I… It just happened. If I had had the choice, I…"

Janus sat up suddenly, a serious look on his dolled-up face. "But it did happen. And that's good, because there's no way either of us" he pointed between Remus and himself "will be on any other side anymore. It's too late for us, and we like it here. And you do too, right?"

Virgil looked at the eyes of the man he loved, the man who he pretended not to know had bought a diamond ring just a few days ago. And he couldn't answer. So he just sighed and kissed his forehead instead.

"If you ever change sides" Janus muttered as he snuggled back against Virgil "I'll come and terrorise the entire world to get you back. I'm no hero, but I'm on the right side." Virgil didn't see it, but he knew Janus' face got considerably darker during that last sentence. "So I'd sacrifice the world for you."

There was a beat of silence.

"I'll never forgive you if you leave."

And Virgil didn't plan on leaving. Really, he didn't. But the next night… It just happened. Like when he became a villain. A week later, when he finally managed to get back to their layer, everything was empty. But on top of the bar there was an empty bottle of wine and a black velvet box.

Virgil leaned back, sighing. He looked back up, tears in his eyes. He was too late, huh?

"I guess you saved me, Jan," he muttered to no one in particular "since this is a nightmare. Or maybe it's hell. Who knows." He chuckled, tears still streaming down his face. "I hope I wake up soon."

He sighed, sinking to the floor, trapped in the most painful memory he had. "But then again, maybe that's what I deserve for always letting go at the worst times…"

The scene started to replay again.

Taglist: @gattonero17 @alias290

[vegalocity]

The Tinkerer (Red Groom AU)

It took me a hot second to decide who i wanted to be Miracle Max because there was no way I WASN'T gonna put that scene in this AU

I decided on Syntax bc the other spiders haven't shown up yet and so why not

--

The house was little more than a glorified workshop; there were shelves of research notes and half finished odds and ends puled up on an open wall near the back, and Xiaojiao was unsure of whether they should be approaching the front door or coming in through the workshop area. Especially since the front door had a very clear 'No Longer In Business' sign hanging from it.

All the same it seemed like Sandy had all the confidence in the world in this 'Tinkerer' as he was known. As his usual grin didn't waver as he shifted his grip on the Not-Monkey King's body and approached the front door. Xiaojiao fell into step beside him of course, and upon Sandy's polite knock stationed herself between her friend and the question of what will be coming next.

A small peek window opened and Xiaojiao was suddenly making eye contact with a pair of very bright green eyes, nearly bioluminescent in their vibrancy, surrounded by a pale purple complexion not unlike the late Spider Queen's.

“We're closed.” The Demon stated firmly.

“Are you The Tinkerer?” She asked in reply.

The demon at the door snarled with a mouth of sharp teeth. “I was. And thank you for reminding me of what that wretched Prince did to my reputation, Why don't you throw a handful of dirt in my face while you're at it! Scram.” he shut the peek window. And Xiaojiao was far less polite when she knocked.

“I said beat it! Or I'm calling the brute squad.” The Tinkerer opened the little window again and glared her down, but Sandy leaned in at the offer.

“I'm on the brute squad.” he waved.

“You are the brute squad.” The Tinkerer agreed.

“Look, we heard you were one of the best healers in the region with your experiments and we're in desperate need.” Xiaojiao tried again.

“What part of 'was' did you not understand? Past tense. I'm Not in that business anymore. Besides-” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Why would you want a disgraced tinkerer to have a look at whoever you've got in mind anyway? I might kill them.” he said that last part in a mocking tone, clearly imitating the Prince in the false posh accent. The only thing stronger then The Tinkerer's sarcasm seemed to be his bitterness.

“He's already dead?” She tried one last time, and this time the Tinkerer seemed interested. He leaned forward a bit to peer at the Not-Monkey King.

“He is, hm?” He paused for a second, eyes flicking into nothing as he thought something over, before eventually shrugging. “Sure, bring him in. I'll take a look.”

The little home indeed was as small as the door implied, and in the living space there was in fact an extra door that lead to the outside workshop area.

Scanning the room for anything flat enough to lay the Not-Monkey King down on, Xiaojiao eventually started to clear the table of books—and there were many books in this house.

“Careful with those!” The Tinkerer chided but as she turned to hand them off instead of a more average demon aggravated and ready to take the tomes from her, she was met with a pair of metallic prongs infront of her, not dissimilar to the legs of a spider demon, and peering to the side a bit she saw that indeed, they were sprouting from The Tinkerer's back.

...Huh... Spider Queen had let on that she was the only spider demon in the area, to think there was another of her kind so nearby without her knowledge before she'd died... The Tinkerer's spider legs sprouted from his back which WAS a little odd since she'd always been told the hips were the usual area for spider legs, but he was using the other pair to better arrange the table for Sandy to put Not-Monkey King down onto it, so it didn't seem like they were a hindrance. She placed the books in the spare two prongs and said tomes were carefully deposited on an empty chair.

The Tinkerer strode over to the body and hemmed and hawed for a moment. “Well I've certainly seen worse.” He continued to prod at the body, and the running clock began to hold over Xiaojiao's head.

“Sir we're in a rush here-”

“Never rush a scientist, Miss.” The Tinkerer responded evenly. “Nothing makes an experiment go wrong quicker than rushing the scientist.” He fretted over the body a little longer, and his attention was on the corpse still as he spoke again.

“So how much is this worth to you both?”

“All we've got is Sixty-five.”

The Tinkerer scoffed. “I never work for so little.” He paused for a moment, considering. “Except for that one time, but that was a very noble cause.”

Xiaojiao thought fast “Sir this is a noble cause.” Though no one ever said she was any good at improvising. “His wife cannot leave the house after the accident, children on the brink of starvation-”

The Tinkerer was unmoved. “You're not a gifted liar, are you?”

Fine, if she couldn't make this happen with sympathy she may as well tell the truth. “I need him to help me avenge my father. Murdered these last ten years-”

“Your first story was better.” The Tinkerer cut her off with a scoff. “Probably owes you money, doesn't he?” he turned away from the body to rummage through a crate of strange looking devices. “Now where did I put the- Ah.” He pulled out a pump looking thing. “Well if you're not going to be giving me a straight answer I'll ask him myself.” Her thoughts spluttered for a moment.

“He-... He's dead he can't speak-”

The Tinkerer chuckled. “Oh, so now you're the expert, miss?” he shook his head. “No, your friend here is only mostly dead.” He began to turn a few knobs on the device before gently prying the Not-Monkey King's mouth open. “There's a very distinct difference between mostly dead and all dead you see.” He began to turn the crank on the device and slowly the Not-Monkey King's chest began to inflate. “If he were all dead there'd only be one thing to do.”

“What would that be?”

The Tinkerer smirked “Go through his pockets and see if there's anything worth selling. But Mostly Dead, is Slightly Alive. So there's far more options.”

Soon enough he stopped turning the crank and lifted the device from the Not-Monkey King's mouth. After handing the device off to Sandy, whom helpfully carefully set it back inside the box, the Tinkerer leaned in close to the body.

“Hey! Hello in there! Hey- What's so important? You got anything here worth living for?” he then placed both hands and two of his spider legs onto the Not-Monkey King's chest and pushed.

At first the wheezing noise didn't sound like much of anything, but then Xiaojiao was able to make out-

“'True Love'! You heard him!” She leaned forward to examine the body herself for a moment, but other than the faintest moving of his words, the Not-Monkey King remained still. And peeking back up at the Tinkerer he looked pale, mauve skin suddenly more of a sickly lavender. “You couldn't ask for a more noble cause than that, sir.”

“Well Miss, true love certainly would be a noble cause of all noble causes.” He agreed, before blinking once and shaking his head. “But that's not what he said! I've been hearing mostly dead groans for the better side of thirty years now, and I know 'To blave' when I hear it.” He waved a hand dismissively as he turned away from her. “And since you seem like those whom may not know 'To Blave' is an archaic way to say 'to bluff'. So here's my read on things, you lot were gambling on something or another and he was cheating so-”

“Oh for the love of- You CanNOT be serious, Syntax!” a raspy voice piped up, and emerging from one of the small rooms was another spider demon, this one looking far more traditional, with the obvious mandibles and four green eyes instead of The Tinkerer's two.

“Huntsman I am in the middle of something can you just-”

“You're in the middle of making yourself look like an obstinate fool that's what you're in the middle of!” The other spider, Huntsman, approached and grabbed The Tinkerer (Syntax apparently) by the arm. “What kind of coward has my brother turned into that he can't even say the truth when he refuses to do what he poured his life's work into?!”

“You have no idea what you're talking about-”

“You head him,You know what he said-” Huntsman turned to the two of them and were it not for the sadistic gleam in his eye Xiaojiao would have thought he was honestly trying to help them. More likely he just wanted to see his brother squirm. “He's turned into a coward ever since the prince fired him! He's been stuck in a rut for months now!”

“Hey! You said you wouldn't bring that up! You swore you'd let that drop!” The Tinkerer's voice went shrill with anger, and the smirk on Huntsman's face widened, showing off his far more pronounced fangs.

“What? That you got fired? You got fired!” and then in a routine Xiaojiao would more expect out of a play than from a pair of fully grown brothers, Huntsman began to chase Syntax around the little room, loudly crowing 'Fired' over and over again while Syntax made vague noises of distress. Eventually Huntsman got hold of his brother again, and this time he maybe actually looked concerned.

“What would mother say if she saw you puttering about like this?! You know how much she went on about 'True Love' and all that ilk! And Sure Goliath was the only one who ever believed her, but you don't even have the decency to say why you won't help?!” Syntax had his hands clapped over his ears and seemed to be trying to loudly tune Huntsman's words out. “What, one good for nothing Prince gives you the boot and you don't have a reputation anymore?! Where in the world did your Spider Pride run off to because sure as anything else it ain't here anymore!” Wait he meant THIS prince, right?

“This man is Red Son's lover!” she cut in. “If you heal him he'll stop at nothing to stop the Prince's wedding!”

That gave both spider brothers pause, and something sparked to life behind Syntax's expression, he took a step away from his brother and leaned over the Not-Monkey King's body to lean in close to Xiaojiao.

“Hold on, hold on. I heal him and the Prince suffers?”

Xiaojiao leaned in and shot him as big a smirk as she could muster. “What's more humiliating than having your groom run off on the day of your wedding? He'd be mortified.” Syntax smiled back at her, and cackled.

“Now that is a noble cause.” a pair of his spider legs rummaged through the bin again before pulling out a set of adjustable glasses. “Give me the sixty-five, I'm on the job.”

“You're welcome.” Huntsman sarcastically called out before sitting down in a nearby chair and crossing his legs.

Sandy seemed to take an interest in him, wandering over beside the spider and striking up conversation, but Xiaojiao had her eyes on the Tinkerer, and her hopes.

–

“So that's gonna heal him up?”

“Something along those lines. He'll be more alive than he is now.” By this point all three of them were leaned in watching The Tinkerer put his last touches on the cure pill.

“Huh, chocolate coating and everything” Huntsman chiming in every so often for color commentary. “Of course you're enough of a petty bastard to pull out all the stops for revenge.”

“You should wait about fifteen minutes so everything's got time to settle.” Syntax continued as though he hadn't spoken, finishing up the pill and sliding it into a leather pouch. “Oh, and don't let him go swimming for awhile, about an hour or so.” He handed the pouch to Xiaojiao whom quickly slid it into her pocket, and Sandy lifted the body beneath his arm again.

“Thank you so much for this Tinkerer.”

Syntax rolled his eyes. “Just make sure someone sees the Prince suffering so you can send me a letter detailing it.”

And then they were off.

“Don't die!” Huntsman called out as they left.

“Have fun storming the castle!” Syntax added on.

–

“Think it'll work?”

“Do I look like a miracle worker to you?”

–

But soon enough they were at the mouth of the mountain entrance. A small wall the only separating Xiaojiao, Sandy, and their only hope from what was supposed to be about 30 demons.

Key word, 'supposed to'.

“Xiaojiao there's at least sixty men there.”

“What?!” She hissed and poked her head out the side to confirm Sandy's observation. And sure enough-

“I could probably take about ten on my own, how about you my friend?”

“Twenty, assuming we're fighting to incapacitate.” Sandy added on very carefully.

“Damn it all.” She hissed. Before glancing back down at the body. “Well, no matter, we've got him. He'll think of something.”

“Has it been fifteen minutes?”

“We can't afford to wait any longer. The wedding's in half an hour!” She shuffled with the body until he was propped up against the wall and took the pill out.

It slid down his throat quickly and concisely, possibly aided by whatever swallowing reflex remained in his mostly-dead state.

“How long do we have to wait, before we know the experiment works?”

“Your guess is as good as mine-” A voice between them interrupted Xiaojiao

“I'll tear you both apart! I'll take you both together-!” Sandy covered the Not-Monkey King's mouth to cut off his desperate threats.

“I guess not very long.”

“Hey, glad to see you awake!” She went for the friendly approach, he seemed sympathetic to her plight when they were about to duel after all-

When Sandy uncovered his mouth the man remained quiet. “Why won't my arms move?” he finally settled on.

“You've been mostly dead all day, friend.” Sandy calmly explained, Xiaojiao quickly adding on that they'd taken him to The Tinkerer to heal him up before Sandy cut back in.

“You know I feel kinda bad just calling you 'The Man in Black' in my head, but now that we know you're human it feels kinda weird to call you Monkey King too, so do you happen to have a name for us to call you by?”

The man paused again glancing between the two of them. “... Who are you two? Are we still enemies?” He glanced behind him. “Why am I resting on this wall?” but the his expression hardened over. “Where's Red Son?!”

“Okay I can explain-” Wait- “...No there's too much. Let me sum it up, but Sandy's right I'm gonna need that name first.”

"Xiaotian. Now tell me.”

“Well Xiaotian, Red Son's marrying the prince in about half an hour, so what we've got to do is break in, stop the wedding, steal your fire demon back, and make our escape. After I kill the Six Eared Macaque.”

Xiaotian's expression tightened and his fingers began to twitch nervously.

“I'll admit that doesn't leave a lot of time for hesitating.”

“Oh hey Xiaotian! You just wiggled your fingers!” Sandy chirped. “That's great!”

“I've still got something resembling the immortality Monkey King loaned me I guess.” Xiaotian agreed. “What are we facing against?”

“One mountain entrance, guarded by sixty demons.” She grabbed hold of his shoulders and lifted him just enough that his head lolled back and he could see the gate.

“Okay, what do WE have?”

“Your mind, my sword, Sandy's muscle.” …. well that sounded pathetic now that she said it outloud-

“That's it? That's pathetic."... but he didn't have to SAY it-

"Maybe if I had a WEEK I could think of a plan but this?” he shook his head slightly.

“Hey! You shook your head too! You're getting better!” Sandy was clearly nervous, with how bright and sunny he was trying to be. Xiaotian tilted his head to the side just enough to turn to see him.

“Your strength, my mind, and her sword against sixty men to stop the love of my life from getting married and then assassinated by a power hungry tyrant-to-be and you think a little head jiggle is worth celebrating?” He hissed and Xiaojiao was about to throw out a hand in Sandy's deference, but as usual the implied insult did little to dampen Sandy's hard earned chill.

“I mean I'd hardly consider it asking for a lot to have a little more to work with! if we had a wheelbarrow that would be something!”

Wait...

“Sandy what did we do with that Wheelbarrow those demon twins had?”

“I think we just left it there after they ran off.”

Xiaotian's expression pinched. “Why didn't you mention that earlier?” But nonetheless she could see the gears beginning to turn in his head. “Ugh... Maybe if we had a dark cloak I could do that plan but-”

“Yeah no, sorry about that, friend.” But Sandy it seemed had other ideas.

“Will this work?” a long dark cloak was pulled from behind him.

“W-... Where did you get that?”

“At the Tinkerer's! That Huntsman guy said it was made for his brother but it was too big and it fit me, so he said I should just take it!”

“Alright alright. Long Xiaojiao was it?”

“Just Xiaojiao is fine.”

“Can you pluck one of my hairs for me and hold it up?”

“Uhhh?”

“Trust me.”

So she curled a finger around a strand of hair and plucked it from Xiaotian's head before holding it up before him.

He blew gently on the piece and directed her to toss it forward.

There was a shower of golden sparks and the hair had turned into a staff much like the one he'd been wielding when they'd met.

“Alright help me up and I'll explain things.” It was a bit of a struggle, Xiaotian had to be sandwiched between Xiaojiao and Sandy “Can one of you attach that to my back?” Sandy reached down and did so.

“You can't even lift it!” Xiaojiao huffed.

“Yeah but they don't know that.” Xiaotian countered, and... she didn't have a counterargument. “So it's going to be a mess when we start this whole thing, one problem after another-”

“I'll say.” She huffed. “I've got three off the top of my head, when we're inside how do I find the Macaque, when I'm done with him how do I find you again, and when I find you again how do we all escape?”

Sandy whom had been basically holding Xiaotian's head up for him during this exchange, tilted the man's head to rest against his chest. “Come on Xiaojiao, lay off the guy, he's had a hard day.”

“Right, Sorry.”

Sandy bobbed Xiaotian's head in an approximation of a nod.

“Hey Xiaojiao?”

“What is it?”

“I hope we win.”

[ichorai]

cellmates ; one ; j.wy

pairing ; jung wooyoung x reader

summary ; stuck in jail after stealing a necklace off the princess, what happens when your new cellmate with an impossible escape plan comes along?

words ; 3.1k

warnings / includes ; medieval au, blood and grime and death and everything in between rip, wooyoung being handsome despite being in a filthy cell djkdfj, wooyoung being a smartass, reader being petrified half the time lol, future suggestive / mature content, cellmates to (future) lovers !!

a/n ; i’ve been meaning to write a medieval au for the longest time bcs im an absolute sucker for them and i finally got around to writing part one !!! pls be patient for part two !! i hope yall enjoy :3 

cellmates masterlist.

The jail cell was cold. You shivered violently, breath misting in front of you as you blew out a tired sigh. They had stripped you of all your clothes except a thin beige tank top (that had actually once been white), and ripped tights. Dried blood matted your hair to your forehead, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care at the moment. It was too damn cold.

You found yourself wishing that you hadn’t stolen that necklace off of the innocent little princess. The silver glinting against her pale collarbones were just too enticing, the angry grumble of your stomach far too loud. That much silver would’ve cost a fortune; you wouldn’t have had to worry about food for years. Unfortunately, the guard caught you before you had time to make your escape, by effectively knocking a heavy baton over your head. 

And the result of your desperate endeavor? A small, icy jail cell in the farthest and darkest corner of the dungeons. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen the sun.

A life sentence for attempting to ‘harm’ the princess. Oh please, all you really wanted was to go to bed without your belly twisting painfully in hunger. At least they weren’t barbaric enough to hang you for that.

The thought had tremors running up your spine. Or perhaps it was the cold.

A dim amber light appeared from the corner of your eyes, echoing footsteps gradually getting louder with each thump. Was it dinner time already? You hadn’t even eaten yesterday’s yet.

The same guard you’d seen just about a thousand times by now appeared in front of the frigid metal bars, melting candle in hand. Grizzly beard blanketing his chin and jaw, faint scar mark running over his left cheekbone, and slanted eyes the color of the princess’ silver necklace. A daily reminder of your worst mistake, it would seem. 

He muttered something unintelligible before shoving a tray through the narrow slot, wintry water sloshing about in the small wooden cup with the same chunk of stale bread on the side that always tasted like metal.

How delicious. The cold had numbed you to the point where hunger was the least of your problems. 

You remembered when you had first gotten here, croaking out a wispy ‘thank you’ to the guard whenever he had given you your food, hoping that he’d take sympathy and give you a bit more, or maybe even get you a blanket. You were foolish back then, you thought solemnly, curling up tighter and burying your face in between your knees. 

Perhaps one of the worst things possible about being in jail was that you had absolutely nothing to do. Sometimes you would try to exercise to keep your blood running through your body and make sure your muscles hadn’t frozen over, but exhaustion constantly hung above you like a stormy cloud. More oftenly, you would make up fantastical stories including dragons and elves and faeries. But after hundreds (or maybe it was just around twenty, but who was counting?) of different stories, your creativity would run short and you would find yourself pausing mid-story, trailing off into a disappointing end of ‘and they lived till they died’.

Turns out you weren’t going to be bored alone, at least. 

You had been in a fitful slumber when you heard the footsteps approach. That was strange, usually there’d only be the one guard to deliver your measly dinner.

Curious eyes grew wide when you took sight of two guards holding up an unconscious man, the toes of his worn leather boots dragging against the damp stones of the dungeon ground. 

What you wouldn’t give for a nice pair of leather boots. Your toes twitched in your worn socks at the thought.

They began stripping him of his clothes, much like they had done to you in the beginning, grunts of exertion leaving them in misty huffs. They left shortly after, grumbling about being ‘fuckin’ cold’. As if they had any right to complain.

In the dim light of the candles, you could barely make out what the new prisoner looked like. He was slumped up against one of the icy stone walls, dark hair tied into a short ponytail. A low groan escaped the man, foot twitching as he slowly aroused from unconsciousness. 

“Fuck,” His voice came out hoarse and raspy. He pushed against the floor to prop himself up at a better angle. More curses left his lips in a rapid flurry. You watched in timid fascination as he raised a pale hand to dab against his forehead, hissing when he pulled away with crimson staining his skin.

Looking upwards, he finally caught your curious gaze. 

The two of you stared at one another for a second before he huffed, reaching up to his head once more. This time, his fingers didn’t only pull away with blood, but with a thin hair pin that glinted against the candle’s small flame.

You hadn’t noticed that your mouth was hanging slightly open when he struggled to his feet, limbs shaking with effort and cold.

And he started picking the lock, stopping every minute or so to blow his breath onto his quickly numbing fingers.

After less than ten minutes, the frozen bars swung open with a rusty creak. 

At that point, you yourself had gotten up, eyes widening. You shuffled closer to your own locked bars. It was as if the man had forgotten you were there, flinching when he turned and saw you pressed up against your cell.

“Don’t leave me here,” You whispered, starting to feel the familiar feeling of desperation clawing at your throat.

For a second, he looked conflicted. A hard, determined film passed over his eyes and he tore his gaze away.

“Sorry,” Was all he said. 

And he left, just as quickly as he had come.

Strings of foul curses left his mouth once he was dragged back. And this time, he was far bloodier than before. He barely looked like the same person.

You had to hold in a breath as they threw his limp body back into the cell, one of them spitting at his feet. Grimacing, you looked away and scowled.

Perhaps if he had let you out as well, the both of you would’ve been able to escape.

Ten minutes after the guards had left, the man across from you reached behind his back to pull something out. He didn’t have another hair pin, did he? Would he let you out this time?

Probably not, you thought bitterly.

The object he pulled out was small and round, a shiny red ball that seemed to glisten beneath the candlelight.

It made a resonating thud against the stone of the cell, echoing down the halls. 

And he did it again. And again. And three, four, ten times more.

“Please stop,” You found yourself saying, a headache brewing behind your temple. But your voice was too soft, drowned out by the incessant bouncing of his rubber ball.

Downing what was left in the damp wooden, you mustered the courage to croakily shriek, “Stop! Please, stop!” 

Startled by your sudden noise, he hadn’t been able to catch the ball’s last bounce, and crimson streaked past as it hit the wall behind him, ricocheting past the jail bars and out into the hallway. You watched silently as it rolled away, until it was far out of your sight.

“Bitch,” You heard him mutter under his breath.

You felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise as you sneered at him, “You’re a fool, you know. Thinking you could escape a place like this.”

“Oh, yeah?” His eyebrows raised while he shuffled closer, pressing his pale face against the cold bars. Now that he was out of the shadows, you managed to get a proper look of his face. He was all bone and skin, dark hair grown a little too long, hazel eyes glinting along with the dim flames. “At least I managed to get out of my cell. That’s probably more than you’ve ever done.”

If he was trying to pick a fight with you, it wouldn’t work.

“What’s the point, anyways? There’s only so much out there for people like us.”

“People like us… ?”

Your eyes darted to him, and you immediately averted your gaze. It’d been a long time since anyone had properly looked at you. Perhaps under all the blood and grime, he’d actually be quite handsome.

“Commoners, peasants. We grow up stupid, work until our fingers bleed, and then die from a disease because we don’t have the money for a healer.”

A low rumble that could pass as a laugh worked its way out of him, “You’re telling me you would rather stay locked up in here than back outside? You don’t want to feel the sun on your face, the taste of sweet fruits, the warmth of another human being?”

“Of course I do,” You retorted. “I’m just saying that it’s pointless.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, “How long have you been here?”

“Too long to keep track.”

At this point, you couldn’t really tell whether it was refreshing to talk to someone after so long, or just plain annoying. He stayed silent for a moment, before speaking up once more. 

“What got you here?”

You huffed. There was no harm in telling him, right?

“I ripped a priceless necklace off of the princess because I was hungry.”

It was as if his volume tripled when he yelped, “You’re Y/N L/N?!”

How he had that much energy after getting beaten up twice, was still a mystery to you.

“The one and only.” You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. It seemed that you were quite famous in the outside world. 

“That’s amazing,” He breathed out, eyes wide as he leaned further into the bars. “My name’s Wooyoung. I’m your new cellmate.”

Your eyes flickered to his once more. If you were going to be stuck here with him, might as well get to know him a little better.

“I’m not your cellmate,” You deadpanned, despite Wooyoung’s disappointed pout. “You’d need to be in the same cell as me to be my cellmate.”

One of his shoulders lifted in a half-shrug.

“So why are you here?” Part of you was afraid of what he was going to say. He didn’t really seem to strike you as someone who’d do anything seriously terrible… right?

“I… I just threw one or two punches at the crown prince, is all. And maybe a kick to the groin. And gave him a couple broken ribs.” He laughed a little at that last part, as if the memory amused him. 

“You what?”

Scoffing, Wooyoung flicked his hair out of his eyes, “I think you heard me perfectly clear, sweetheart.”

A strange feeling blossomed in your stomach. You shuffled a bit closer to your own bars, until the light hit your face. 

“Was it worth it?”

Wooyoung paused at the unexpected question.

“Yeah, I would do it again. A million times over.” It was the first time he looked away, a distant glaze over his eyes. “He was touching a servant girl and she was begging him to stop. But he didn’t. So I intervened.”

A palpable silence laid over the two of you, thick and heavy.

“Good,” Was all you said. “I’m going to sleep.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s morning.”

You ignored him. Time didn’t matter anymore, not to you. Soon enough, he’d stop caring as well.

Hours and days melted into weeks and months, along with the frost on the bars and the icicles hanging off the ceilings.

At least it wasn’t cold anymore. Everything was wet. 

“Okay… would you rather live knowing how you die or live forever?” Wooyoung asked in queer tone, laying down on the ground with his bare back pressed against the damp stone.

You bit into a chunk of stale bread, pausing to chew around the hard crust before swallowing, “No one wants to live forever.”

“Rich people do,” He murmured, flipping over onto his stomach to do some push-ups.

You averted your eyes. He was right; if you were rich, you would’ve probably chosen the latter option too.

“I’ll choose to live forever when I get out of this goddamn cell. But for now, we’re sticking with knowing how I die,” The raven-haired man huffed out through each strenuous push-up. He’s been getting weaker and weaker by the day, living off of nothing but crispy bread and metallic water and the occasional measly slice of dry apple.

“You’re not getting out,” You scoffed. “We’re not getting out. Why do you keep saying that we will?”

Wooyoung falls flat onto his stomach, blowing his hair away from his eyes in frustration, “And why do you keep saying that we won’t? Do you really think we’re going to die here?”

Throwing your hands up into the air, mouth full and bread crumbs rimming your lips, you nodded vehemently, “Yes! Look around us, Wooyoung. How on Earth would you plan on getting out? I’ve been trying for forever before you came around. I’m still here.”

“Yeah, but that was back when I wasn’t here. Now I am.”

“That’s absolutely great, genius. But guess what? We’re still stuck here!”

Wooyoung scowled at your salty remark. He crawled closer to the bars looking down the hallway to make sure no guards were near. 

Glancing back to you, he whisper-yelled, “I have a plan.” 

“That’s a stupid plan,” You sneered, deadpanning.

The man across from you rolled his eyes, “It’s the only one we’ve got.”

“You do know they’ll find out eventually, right? We can’t just go back to our normal lives.”

“Then let’s run away.” His gaze bore into you as you felt yourself flush heavily. “You and me. We can sneak our way onto a fishing boat, sail off to someplace… not here.”

A shiver ran up your arms, gooseflesh prickling your skin, “Stop.” You mumbled. “Don’t get my hopes up.”

Wooyoung grasped the bars tightly, knuckles turning white, “Y/N, listen to me. We can do it. I swear, I’ll get you out of here.”

It was stupid, you knew it was. But you couldn’t help the small spark of hope flare in the middle of your chest, heart pumping just a tad quicker at his words. Hope was an intoxicating drug; you either get sucked into some sort of deluded fantasy, or live without the illusions of false happiness. 

However, The words left you before you even had a chance to hesitate. “You promise?”

“I swear on my next slice of dried apple.” He said, eyes twinkling with excitement behind the shaggy, overgrown hair. 

“Okay.” You breathed out, somewhat satisfied. The dull ache in your spine was ignored as you slumped against the stone wall, closing your eyes and imagining what outside was like. All you could recall about outside was how terrible it was. Of course, not as bad as being in here, but not much to look forward to.

Cracking an eye open, you glanced to Wooyoung, who had curled up into himself in the corner of his cell, slightly obscured by the shadows. 

Life outside seemed better when you imagined yourself with Wooyoung.

“Remember the plan?”

Wooyoung snorted, rolling his eyes, “How many times have you asked me that now?”

You scowled, “Just making sure you won’t mess anything up. Can you really guarantee you’re strong enough to knock him out?” 

Biting down on his lip, he shrugged in a nonchalant manner, “I’ll try my best. And if that’s not enough, well… it was nice meeting you.”

The two of you waited in tense silence for a couple minutes, the expected thudding of boots coming down to give the two of you your meals for the day. The familiar grey eyes of the guard swept over the two of you, bending down your cell first to shove the tray through the narrow slot like he had hundreds of times before. 

Then, he turned to Wooyoung.

“What’s on the menu today, sir?” 

Stormy eyes narrowed, the guard’s nose wrinkled in distaste, “Th’ same shit you eat every day.” His gravelly voice rumbled, clearly not used to prisoners being able to talk, much less form coherent sentences. “It’s what criminals like you deserve.”

A gasp of mock-offense left Wooyoung in the most dramatic manner possible, “Why, if stopping a rapist from raping is worse than being a killer and killing, then I must be the worst criminal alive.”

“You better shut your mouth before I get half the mind to carve your tongue out for you.” The guard spat, nearing closer towards the bars menacingly, one hand on the hilt of his sword. He wasn’t below leaving a prisoner bleeding and tongueless. 

Wooyoung did nothing but raise an eyebrow, “Oh, come now! I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of kills. Especially when you swore an oath to protect a murderous king!”

Your eyes widened slightly; you had no idea he would go as far as to claim treason. 

The guard, however, cackled the ugliest laugh you’d ever heard. “You seem really not to like your tongue, boy. Only, for that comment, they’ll be taking your head along with it.”

It all happened so quickly, you wouldn’t even have the time to scream if you wanted to. 

Just as the guard leaned closer tauntingly, nose almost brushing against the rusty metal bars, Wooyoung grabbed the front of the guard’s steel collar, yanking him forward into the metal columns with all of his might.

A sickening crack echoed across the stone. 

It happened again, and again, and three more times after that. Wooyoung was panting, eyes wild.

“Is he dead?” You craned your neck to try to get a good look, but it was too dark to make out much of anything. 

“No. He’ll wake up with a nasty concussion in a couple hours, give or take.” 

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” You asked, heart pounding far too loudly in your ribcage. The faint sound of jingling almost had you bursting into tears of joy. He had the keys.

A small, non-committal hum emitted from Wooyoung’s cell. “You learn from dreaming about all the different ways you could’ve done that to the crown prince. And thankfully, I got the chance.” Suddenly, Wooyoung appeared in front of your cell, a ring of small keys hanging from his pointer finger, the widest grin spread across his face. “Told you I’d get you out, didn’t I?”

[zankivich]

An Unexpected Romance: Chris Evans x Black! Female Reader Part 2

a/n: this one was really fun to write. I’m back in my bag tbh. These are some cute characters if I do say so myself. Like everything I write I feel like  this could be a fully blown multi-chapter fic. Also it’s finna get smutty so I hope you’re prepared for that. Let me know what you think? K bye. 

WARNINGS: Smut, softness, too much cuteness? 

Part 1 Part 3

The call comes two days later. Not that he leaves any room to be forgotten. No, Chris had texted you bright and early the next morning to thank you again for giving him a chance, and to apologize if he’d been in any way aggressive. You were quick to reassure him there’d been no aggressiveness on his end, certainly not any that was unwanted. He was a good texter, happy to provide details about himself, and to notice the details you, yourself, provided.

Chris: What are you up to this morning anyway?

Y/n: I had an early meeting with the company I just signed on with for a project I’m spearheading, and now I’m in my office preparing the debrief on that meeting which will be presented at another meeting.

Chris: Wow. Sounds intense. What do you do for a living?

Y/n: I’m a senior level consultant at a consulting firm. I basically just get hired to tell folks what they’re doing wrong and how to fix it. Then I leave before they fix it.

Chris: Ah so you liked to be in control huh?

Y/n: I...trust my gut, and my gut has yet to lead me astray. I only make decisions I believe in.

Chris: And what is your gut telling you about me y/n?

Y/n: It’s telling me to keep texting you even when I shouldn’t. Even when I’m busy. I like the things you say.

Chris: I like that. My gut is telling me you’re important. I can’t really explain it further than that. I just think we could be really good together.

You bit your lip, eyes roaming over the words in the message a few times. It was sweet. Damn him all to hell.

Fast forward to the next day where you’d spent all day outside of the office meeting with clients. He caught you in the middle of your lunch break between bites of sandwich that wasn’t very good. You’d put his name in your phone as just Chris, and yet when his name flashed across the screen the letters may as well have been hieroglyphics. It took you ten seconds just to get your shit together.

“Hello?” You swallowed into the phone, trying to manage an up-beat cadence.

Chris was like honey through the phone, as if the weight of the conversation was nothing to him.

“Hello. God, I gotta tell you it’s good to hear your voice. I thought I was starting to lose it in my memory for a second.”

You chuckled. “I’m sure it’s been exceptionally trying for you.”

“It has, it has. So perhaps you won’t think I’m being too pushy by asking you out tonight?”

You moved the phone just far enough away from your ear to wordlessly praise the lord to the air. Or whoever was up there.

“Um...tonight, huh?”

“Yea do you already have plans?”

“No, no. I just have a pretty long day ahead of me. I might not be able to make an early dinner.”

“Well that’s okay. Dinner isn’t even what I had in mind. What if I picked you up at, say eight-thirty? Would that be enough time?”

You bit your lip. “It would...Can I ask, if we’re not going to dinner, where are we going?”

“Now that....is a surprise. Send me your address, I’ll be there at eight-thirty sharp.”

“Oh lord. Okay I guess I’ll see you then.”

“I look forward to it.”

It took you a moment to remember to put the phone down. Men were usually very simple. Dinner, usually somewhere they can order a steak. They like to do dinner on the earlier side, give them ample time to order drinks. The more drinks they order the higher they believe their chance of sleeping with you goes up. In all your years of “grown up dating”, you could count on one hand the amount of men who had offered to take you somewhere other than dinner on the first date, and never had that place been alcohol free.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was more that understanding men; their preconceived notions, their inadequacies, their mentality etc. was about safety for yourself and for others who may fall victimized. The patriarchy was toxic afterall and perhaps no one knew this better than Black women.

And yet Chris seemed to be evading your expectations, and not for the sake of keeping you on your toes. It was as if his aura existed outside of your expectations all together. He didn’t need to trick you, or convince you. He was just himself, and that self was perhaps better than the vast majority of men you’d met in your life. Could that be? Was it really possible? It seemed like you’d find out regardless.

***

Large hoop earrings are truly a staple piece for any iconic outfit. Without the dread of a formal dinner, you were excited to play with your wardrobe a little bit. There was a beautiful pastel pink camisole that matched a floral set of pumps quite perfectly. The slicked back ponytail and the knitted cardigan are simply added bonuses. Ya girl looked good as per the usual is the moral of the story.

By the time he knocks on your door there’s a giddiness to you. Grownup dating seemed to lack a certain excitement at that point in your life. Oftentimes priorities didn’t match up, men didn’t say what they really wanted, or truly were after. But it really did seem like Chris just wanted to show you a good time. And as much as you were trying to keep the walls up and stay smart, you couldn’t help but be hopeful that he might prove you wrong.

“Hello.” He smiled warmly at the threshold. “You look beautiful.”

Your brain had short-circuited. This was basically nuclear warfare and you were not having it! He was wearing a thin black sweater that stretched tightly across the firmness of his chest. There was a level of scruff that was absolutely tantalizing, and the way his eyes were one step away from twinkling like an anime character was a reality that suffocated you with the weight of it. It was truly too much. This man looked straight out of a factory. The wind had been zapped from your sails. Dammit.

“You look...really good yourself.” You hummed. “Like, unnaturally good actually.”

He only laughed wild and carefree arms coming up into a shrug.

“I gotta keep up with you somehow, right? So you ready to go?”

“Yes actually, let me just shoot a quick text…” You mumbled, swiping your fingers across the screen.

y/n: Okay we’re leaving the house. Remember if I don’t text back for an hour without stating why to track my phone.

Raya: don’t worry girl ain’t nobody gone call the police on captain america. Yo black ass wouldn’t make it a second

Jesse: Me and my cousins will ride up there swinging if need be. You just say the word mija

Tanya: or not word….cause the girl might be dead????

Jesse: Oh...you right

Y/n: okay BYE NOW

Usually the group text for dates was centered on safety and precaution. You had a feeling this one was going to be fully for them to clown your ass for the rest of the night.

Chris gets the door for you, and it’s easy to note immediately that you’re sliding into a tesla. The fact that it looks like a spaceship on the inside is a dead giveaway. But the car is warm and the second he slides into the driver’s seat, his large frame takes up precedence in the vehicle. His non-driving arm lands on the middle console sending parks of heat over to your seat with stark intensity.

“So, you’re still not gonna tell me where we’re going? You know that’s like prime serial killer talk right?” You noted.

He smiled again, this wide grin that seemed to transform his entire face. It seemed infectious just to look at him.

“Gosh you’re totally right. I’m so sorry. If it makes you feel any better, we’re heading towards the city and not away from it. It’s a public place, I promise.”

“Okay Chris. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt...for now.” You teased.

He looked over at you instead of the road.

“I like the way you say my name.”

Oh chile….

“Mmm. Noted.”

There had been a certain energy the night you met. It had existed in the non-existent space between your bodies as he held you against his chest. A sort of aura that pulled you, pulled the both of you in. It had felt a little overwhelming then, but to know that it existed now within the small confines of the car was another thing entirely. Your body tilted in the direction of his unconsciously, your elbow propped on the console directly next to his. You were drawn to him. And the good news was he seemed to be too.

You were both confused and happy to see him steer clear of the usual Beverly Hills or Hollywood spots. Where does one such movie star as Chris Evans take a woman on a date anyway? Your girls had discussed everything from WolfGang Puck to the Rosevelt. The sun was sinking low and heavy in the sky as night began its arrival. As he navigated you to the Santa Monica Pier you felt the giddiness from early wreck havoc in your belly. It was so far from anything you could have ever expected in the best way possible. All the nerves of being with this guy you really liked sort of melted away and gave way for excitement.

“The boardwalk huh?” You grinned out the window.

“Yea. There’s great street food, games, views. I figure it’s pretty tough to have a bad time here. Increases my chances of you agreeing to a second date.” He smirked.

You laughed a little louder than your flirting giggle and turned to face him straight on.

“Oh so you already plotting the second date now!”

He laughed right along with you.

“Sweetheart I’m on date number four up here.” He pointed to his forehead.

“Sheesh! Well I don’t want to disappoint, but I played point guard in high school so if we find some hoops I’ma have to put your ass to shame.”

“Oh she’s trash talking me already ladies and gentlemen!”

You were already taking your seatbelt off and reaching for the door handle. It was the most excited you’d ever been on a date, couldn’t even remember the last time someone took you some place to be goofy and play games. You typed your destination into your group chat and told your girls not to bother you. It was finna be a night.

It comes to no surprise that you end up at the arcade. He buys the tokens, you buy the beers. And then...it’s on.

“I want to start by saying that I am firm in my masculinity. Basketball is not my game, and I stand by that.”

You rolled your eyes around your beer and quickly took off your cardigan to free your arms.

“Boy, put the tokens in the machine and quit playing.”

He only grins at you so sweet it makes your teeth hurt.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Side by side in front of the basketball arcade game, you each take shots at the swinging net. Unfortunately there are no bonus points for fine looking biceps while missing shots. This leaves you to crush your opponent--date, whatever--by over twenty points. Though Chris was “firm in his masculinity” this did not stop him from being competitive, so he quickly threw more tokens into the machine and tugged the sleeves of his too-tight sweater up his arms. He makes a shot while you just stared at him, a little dazed. You only beat him by eight that time. Rude.

“Okay,” Chris panted. “I lied. I do play basketball. I like to think I’m pretty good at it too, but you definitely just kicked my ass.”

“I was MVP all three years I played. It’s not your fault.” You giggled.

“You play in college at all?” He asked as you took your beers and moved on to a new game.

You shook your head. “I went to Howard for both undergrad and my masters. We’re D1 and I wasn’t that good. I got an academic scholarship instead.”

“So brains and a killer arm? Anything else I should know?”

“Hmm...I have an irrational fear of mice? I found a mouse once in my kitchen when I was a little girl. I got so scared that I literally fainted.”

“Brains, killer arm, faints at the side of mice. So, I guess Cinderella for date number two is out.”

You placed your arm on his shoulder as you laughed. The sheer volume of muscle was not lost on you, nor the way your mouth salivated in response. Woops.

“I’d be down to watch Ratatouille. That’s my favorite food movie ever, I think. I guess animated equals not so scary.”

He smiled and let you keep your palm on his shoulder for much longer than was necessary.

“Duly noted. Shall we?”

Chris beats you in skee ball, and you beat him in some random zombie shooter game. Eventually he lets you lean on him to take your shoes off so that the two of you can do a dance revolution game. It’s silly and awful, and you laugh the entire way through it. There’s more arm touching and at some point he finds an excuse to touch your waist again. The way you bite your lip and stare up at him is only interrupted by the squeal of children’s laughter. There’s an increase in your heart beat that can’t be explained by the physical activity of the game alone, and the heat in his eyes is not nearly PG-13 enough.

“Should we uh...go get a snack or something?” You mumbled still peering up at his lips.

His grip on your waist only grows tighter, and you swear it’s past them kids' bedtime.

“Sure, why not?” He grins before slowly letting you go.

Sweet jesus.

It’s only when there’s a foot of space between the two of you that you can breathe normally again. But then he reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers. Breathing is clearly overrated.

You buy two different flavors of icecream to split and find a bench tucked away in the lights of the pier to keep talking.

“So what about you?” You asked between globs of cookie dough.

“What about me?”

“I know what you do for a living obviously but like...Where are you from? Do you have siblings? What’s your favorite food? How do you take your coffee? That kinda shit.”

He beams at you and holds a spoon of his rocky road to your lips. You hold eye contact as your lips wrap around the spoon. His lips part just barely and you know you’re not the only who can’t get a grip tonight. Good.

He clears his throat. “I’m originally from Boston, but I grew up in a town like thirty minutes away called Sudbury. I have two younger siblings, a brother and a sister, and an older sister. They’re all much smarter than me I promise. My uh father remarried so I’ve got some half-siblings too. I can break out the family tree sometime if you want. I really enjoy seafood. I think it has something to do with where I grew up. I take my coffee black.”

“Boston, eh? LA must have taken some getting used to.”

He chuckled. “I still don’t think I’ve gotten used to LA. I have a place in Massachusetts. It keeps my mom happy, and makes it easy to go home. I’m between projects for now, but its easier sometimes to just be here for the talk shows and the meetings and what not. I’ll be honest it’s been looking up lately though.”

Damn him and his ocean eyes and his dumb dumb smile and his stupid facial hair. And...now he’s putting more ice cream in your mouth. Diabolical.

“What about you? From DC to LA?” He asked.

“Ugh it does feel pretty cliche, I know. I never in a million years though I’d live out here. It’s tough cause all my family is east coast as well. When I was fresh out of grad school I got offered a job at a firm out here. The salary and the benefits were some of the best of my class. I couldn’t really say no. And now I mean...you saw me and my girls. I found community out here. It’s scary to think of losing that.”

“Hey that makes sense. You’ve made a life for yourself here. That’s really admirable.”

“Yea I guess. It helps to live away from the worst of it all. And I suppose LA does sometimes come with perks.” You smiled in his direction.

“I could not agree more.”

*Meanwhile in your phone*

Raya: what do we think? Is she still alive?

Tanya: Girl please. The only thing that girl is at risk for is a good dicking.

Raya: sljgdlkfgjkl you goin to hell

Jesse: Should we take our bets now?

Tanya: I’m putting five on the captain throwing her back out TONIGHT

Raya: I’m putting ten on y/n holding out just to be stubborn af

Jesse: I’m with Raya on this one.

You walk through the sand together with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. There’s everything from playful jabs to probing questions to heavy flirting. At some point it transcends the innocence of a first date. Perhaps it's the moment when he offers to carry your heels so you can feel the sand between your toes. Or the moment when you tell him something funny and he laughs into your neck till all you can feel is the rumble of his chest and the warmth of his skin. Maybe it’s the feel of his fingers untangling your hair from your cardigan when the wind traps it. There’s a softness to him in all his overt physicality. He thumbs at your chin playfully and smiles down at you. It’s not just softness then. It’s tenderness too. And you melt into him.

“Hi.” he whispered till you smiled.

“Hi.” You whispered back.

“Can I kiss you by chance?”

Your arms slide closer wrapping firmly around his neck.

“Absolutely.”

If his chest is rock-hard muscle then his lips are the antithesis of that. The kiss is soft and yearning when he wraps them around your own, and his hands ain’t bad either. Before you know it you’re wrapped up in him and he in you until there’s no clear discernment of where one begins and the other ends. But it doesn’t matter when his tongue is just as teasing and probing at his personality, and you fingers scratch roughly through the strands of his hair.

The only thing that could possibly bring such a perfect moment to an end is the need to breathe. You pull away with a stuttering gasp, and he hides his face in your neck with a whine that awakens a whole new fire with you.

“Wow.” He sighed.

“Yea...Wow.”

You blinked a couple of times to try and bring yourself back to reality and out of...whatever the hell that was.

“I should uh--I should get you home right? You had a long day.”

He squeezed at your shoulders before pulling away and you swore it was colder without him near. As the night suddenly hurdled towards a close, you felt a sense of longing. You weren’t quite ready to let him go yet, and the anticipation of being without him was already wreaking havoc on your nerves. The only good news is he holds your hand the entire walk back to the car, and his shoulder makes for lovely resting space.

The car ride feels like a fraction of the time it took to get there. Perhaps it's because you know each other better now, have a taste of what it’s like to be next to one another. Like a junky you were hooked. White, Black, or green, there wasn’t anything that could stop you from wanting to be near him. He was infectious, and he’d gotten himself directly under your skin.

“Could I walk you to the door?” He asks.

“Please.” You nodded.

You take smaller steps as if that will make it all go slower. And a grin forms slowly on your lips when you notice his much lengthier legs attempting to do the same. It’s the kind of PG-13 shit you’d never really experienced before. How pathetic that the second you got just a tiny bit of it you were practically begging for more.

The light beneath your door illuminates the movement of your bodies. You turned with your back to the door to face him, aware for the first time that you’d been smiling for a while, that you had no idea how to stop smiling.

“I gotta say I had a really great time.” You murmured. “Thank you for the effort and the fun and...the kiss.”

“That means the world to me. All I wanted was for you to have a good time. Honestly I think that was the best first date I’ve ever been on.”

“You know, I think that was the best first date I’ve ever been on as well.”

He smiled widely at you. “Good. So now we’ve set the bar so high that it really only makes sense for us to go on another date right?”

“I think I could be up for that, yea.”

“Could you be up for another kiss?” He teased.

“Could you be up for coming inside?” You countered.

His eyes widened at that, the intricate game of you both keep each other on your toes unfolding. You weren’t even sure where the idea had come from. You certainly hadn’t planned it. At some point you realized you had to go inside, and the thought of him being on the other side of the door just didn’t feel right.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose if you’re tired. I know your work day was long.”

You nodded eyes skimming from his ankles to his hair.

“Suddenly? Not so tired.”

“Me neither. Let’s go inside.”

That’s what you thought.

You unlocked the door to your place leading him into the living room.

“Um make yourself comfortable. I just gotta let my girls know I got home alright. Do you want anything to drink?” You asked.

“I better not. Still gotta drive home.”

There was something about his lack of confidence about getting laid that had you pausing in the kitchen. Few men had ever made it past the threshold on the first date. The threshold may as well have been a neon arrow towards your vagina. Not that you’d decided to have sex with him. Of course not...

Y/n: I know y’all are not placing bets that center around my pussy. Get a life.

Raya: Girl I’m married with two kids and you just went out with Chris Evans. Your life is my life. Don’t take that from me.

Tanya: Now sis, why are you texting us when there is some red, white, and blue DICK to be had.

Jesse: djdflkjgdf

Raya: lmao. She got a point. Did he drop you off?

Y/n: He did.

Tanya: Annnnnnnnnnnd?

Y/n: Annnnnnd my date ain’t over. I simply must be going. Night night!

Your phone began to erupt with buzzes in your palm. You quickly set it to silent to ignore the peanut gallery and headed back to your date.

Chris was in your living room staring at a photo you had set up on the wall. It was you, your mother, and your little brother all wrapped up in each other from your graduation the second time. The fact that his ass was poised like a piece of fruit begging to be plucked from the tree is a secondary detail.

“Is this your family?” He grinned. “You look just like your mother.”

You stalked closer, ready to be in his space again, and smiled.

“This was for degree number two. I’m the first to ever get a master’s, and my mom couldn’t stop crying the whole day. This is the only picture I had where she wasn’t obviously in tears.” You hummed.

“That’s beautiful. She’s got so much to be proud of. You’re clearly an amazing woman.”

Most may have tilted their head in shyness, maybe looked at the ground and ignored the compliment. Such a cliche. You had learned long ago that the most radical, most self-loving thing you could do was believe your own hype. Others will rarely do it for you. Chris seemed to be the exception to many rules.

You raised your chin proudly. “Thank you. Every ounce of it, I get from her. I can assure you of that.”

“I believe you. Mothers really are the superheroes of the world, no pun intended.”

You reached for his hand slowly, heart warming at the way he instantly went to intertwine your fingers. He was truly nestling himself inside your head, your walls coming down one by one. Silence pursued as you led him towards the couch, his eyes raking over every inch of you as you moved. As his back hit the couch, you stepped out of your heels. His legs were deeply parted and the thickness of his thighs looked like the perfect seat. It didn’t help the way his hands were gripping his thighs like an invitation. That knot that sometimes appeared in your belly when he was around tightened.

“Can I sit with you?” You hummed.

“You can sit anywhere you’d like.”

His voice had suddenly gone husky and deep, your eyes fluttering wantonly at the sound. You were mostly definitely going to take him up on that.

You placed your foot on the space of the cushion right next to his thigh, and used the leverage to climb yourself into his lap.  His hands immediately came to rest on the small of your back pulling you close, close, close.

This kiss is better. Much better.

Whatever gentlemanly urges he’d proudly displayed throughout the night, quickly gave way to a new urge, a hunger that boiled hot for each of you. It was the same feeling you’d felt when he first caught you at the bar, multiplied by a million. His facial hair rubbed tantalizing along your jaw as he kissed and bit and marked you with reckless abandon. Your fingers turned to fists in his hair and tugged sharply. The moan he released in response had your hips bucking up against his.

“God, come here.” He muttered against your throat.

His too-large palms went from your back to your ass and suddenly he was tugging you rougher, firmer, right against something firm of his own.

“Oh shit.” you whimpered thighs tightening around his waist. “Touch me.”

His lips began a trail from your neck down your cleavage, beard scratching up the flesh until your back was arching in lust.

“Take this off.” He demanded with a tug to your cardigan.

No problem there.

“You next.” You whined and reached for the bottom of his sweater instead.

Your camisole joined the rest of the pile on the floor and suddenly his tongue was finding the patch of skin right between your breasts. Wet didn’t begin to describe what you were experiencing in that moment.

“You’re fucking gorgeous you know that?” He huffed.

Your fingers gripped at his knee for leverage and you leaned back just enough to give your hips room to breathe. And move.

“Fuck.”

You giggled at Chris, your hips sliding against his in the most amazing rhythm.

“I like it when you lose that little nice-guy thing you got going on. What else do you got hidden from me, Chris?”

His hands moved to the thick of your thighs and squeezed hard until you lost your own grip of self-control.

“I think you like to take the reins. I think every part of your life is carefully constructed to your liking. But I’m starting to wonder what it might look like if you lost a little control, y/n. Do you think I could make you do that?”

Your eyes, though hooded with the overwhelming emotions he was making you feel, found a way to burst open at his words. Because in just one single night he saw you. Saw you in a way that you had not willingly given out. There was an armor that you put on to walk out into the world, something intentionally crafted to keep you safe. How had he disabled it in just one night? As sexy as it was, it was also scary. Were you ready to let him take control?

“Look if you wanna make me lose control? You better have something damn good to show for it, sir.” You grinned.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay.”

And just like that you were being lifted into the air like a spaceship taking launch. A man had never lifted you with such ease since you were a child. A grown ass woman of your size wasn’t just thrown around like a rag-doll. Dainty had certainly never been used to describe you. And yet, Chris had managed to stand with your legs and arms wrapped around his like a kola to a tree. His hands on your lower body only throw you further out of whack.  This shit was insane. And your pussy was transcending physics with how wet he’d manage to make you.

“Can I take you to bed?” He panted, breath harsh against your lips.

You groaned. “God, yes, boy scout. Please take me to bed.”

Your bed seems perfectly crafted for two, or maybe that’s just the feel of him sucking at the skin of your pulse point. His tongue is suddenly everywhere. On your neck. Below your sternum. At the jut of your hip. He strips you of your jeans and falls victim to the slim space between your thighs. His palms now work on mapping them expansively but not without exploring the thin piece of fabric that separates him from the wetness of your inner folds. All it takes is the tip of his nose to rub against the pubic mound, right above your clit, and you just kind of lose it.

“Holy shit! Please. Just please.” You whined, hips bucking closer to his mouth.

A grin descended upon his face that held all of the cockiness of a man who was sure of himself. It was the first time he’d ever looked like that to you. And lord was it hot.

“Sweetheart listen to me.” He said smoothly. “I’m gonna make you cum now. But you gotta be good for me. Can you do that?”

Your lips parted in shock. What does one say to such a thing?

“Okay.”

He’s not interested in torturing you, at least not this time. As soon as you promise to be good, his tongue snakes out of his mouth and he’s on you. Firm flicks of his tongue and hard sucks of his lips quickly leaves your underwear sodden. It appears he has no interest in taking them off, and you might just care if it weren’t for the way he was rocking your body. Most men couldn’t find a clit if there was a neon sign pointing to it. Chris finds it like it's his damn address. He sucks and licks and drools until your thighs pulse, until your back arches, until your body feels poised like spring begging to break.

Your fingers dig into the meat of his shoulders trying desperately to pull him closer. You’re not gonna make it.

“I--I gotta...I gotta cum.” You huffed.

He nods while he’s eating you out and takes your statement as a direction to slip his fingers between the soaked material of your underwear. You’re so wet that there’s barely any hit of tension as his finger slides deep inside of you. You can hear it now right beside the desperate pants of your mouth, the crude slip of his fingers digging into you, searching and pumping. He curls it just right, touches that place, until you can’t breathe,  until your bursting for him like an overripe fruit.

Your body throbs and pulses as the orgasm rocks its way through you and he never moves, just licks away your release with the same intensity. When you collapse, he lays his head against your thigh and grins up at you with wet lips and a wet beard and eyes completely void of anything but tenderness.

“Oh fuck off.” You whined pushing your hand tiredly against his face.

He chuckled but absolutely did not fuck off. Instead he took to placing kisses along the skin of your inner thighs as if he was rewinding the coil inside of you so that he could make you come loose all over again.

“You done?” He hummed nosing at your pubic bone. “We can be done, just let me know.”

“Really?”

“Of course, really.”

You bit your lip and watched him for a few minutes. His fingers were drawing patterns on your leg, his lips feeling like they shot sparks all across your skin. You wanted him bad. Whoever said consent wasn’t sexy hadn’t had Chris Evans in their bed obviously.

“Come up here.”

His eyes finally left the dream of your thighs and locked with yours. He trailed slowly up your body, thighs and arms bracketing either side of you. Your back arched involuntarily until your chests touched. He kissed you long enough for the taste of yourself to get lost in your own mouth. His facial hair still scratched hotly at your flesh.There wasn’t anything you wanted more than for him to destroy you in that moment. So that’s exactly what you said.

“Chris?” You mumbled against his lips.

He immediately backed away. “Yea?”

You reached over to the drawer of your bedside table and grabbed aimlessly for protection. The condom wrapper fell into his hand and your legs came naturally around his waist.

“I’d like for you to wreck me...please.”

It didn’t sound like a question. It was much more a demand than a plea. But your boy scout aimed to please. And please he did.

“I can do that.”

Suddenly when Nicki Minaj said You’ll never catch me in a light-skin nigga’s bed, it took on a whole new meaning. Surely she meant light skin like Drake, and sis definitely had a point. But... surely Nicki couldn’t hate you for the choices you made that night, and all the ones you’d go on to make for this man in particular. After-all, it was technically your bed.

buy me a ko-fi? 

[minniepetals]

butterscotch.04

— summary: as the snow continues falling, your love for one another only grows more and more

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: fluff, slight angst, poly!au, ceo!au

— word count: 8.7k

— warnings: brief mention of an unhealthy past relationship

╰ part 1: buttercream / part 2: buttercup / part 3: buttermilk / part 4: butterscotch / part 5: butterfly

"Jimin! Jimin!"

Upon hearing the loud call of his name, Jimin was quick to look up from his papers where you rushed for the windows with eyes that glowed like a little kid.

"It's snowing!" You gasped in awe as you stared at the little white flakes that came flying down from above. "It's so beautiful. First day of snow on the first day of December and-"

You stopped in mid-sentence the second you turned around, trying to get Jimin's attention, only to come face to face with the said man whose arms stretched out to trap you between his body and the window. "W-what are you doing?" You stuttered, head turned away to avoid his intimidating stare in hopes of him not catching your blush. But you knew Jimin would always know even with his eyes closed.

"Don't scare your boss like that," he said, warm breath hitting your face.

"Hm?"

"It's okay to get excited, Miss Y/N, but don't you think yelling 'Jimin, Jimin' would cause me to think something was wrong?"

"O-oh." Still, it shouldn't have given him the excuse to try and attack your heart at any moment he could. "I'm sorry."

"It's quite rude apologizing without looking at the person's eyes. Quite rude not making eye contact with your boss when you are speaking in general."

Why was he like that? Always in the mood to make you flustered and for some reason, your heart would always skip a beat or two no matter how long it had been since you've begun dating. Jimin smirked at the sight of you who was trying to compose herself as you turned back to face him again, eyes looking into his like a cute little puppy but was soon to disappear and look a blushing mess because you couldn't take his piercing gaze.

"I-I'm sorry for..for scaring you, Mr. Park," you stuttered to which Jimin responded with a swipe of his tongue on his upper lip.

"Hm..." Deep honey dropped voice that had your knees weak. "Should I forgive you? Or not?"

You pouted. "Jim-"

"Hey, do you—"

You gasped at the new voice that walked into the room and was quick to push Jimin away out of panic and he grunted as he landed on the floor.

"Maknae, learn to knock, will you? Otherwise baby girl will get scared and accidentally hurt me." He frowned with displeasure as he took the hand you offered him because you hadn't meant to push him away that hard.

"I wouldn't have to knock if the two of you weren't up to no good," Jungkook remarked sassily while plopping himself on a sofa. "See, this is why having Y/N as your assistant isn't good. She's a distraction," he paused, giving you a smile, "in the best way possible," before looking back at Jimin. "You should fire her so that I can make her mine instead. After all, I'd be able to keep the flirting down to a two."

"Fire her my butt," Jimin retorted. "She's the last I'll be firing until the day I'm old enough to retire."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"Not fair," the maknae pouted.

It was subtle, the way he worded it, but you couldn't help but smile at just those simple words. Until the day he was old enough to retire, meaning he meant to keep you as theirs forever. A sweet silent promise of everlasting love.

You went about your day repeating those words over and over in your head. Sometimes you'd miss a certain command Jimin would order you to do but either way, you felt too happy. Some part of you felt like a schoolgirl who was having her first boyfriend, first love, give her the promise of true love. Yet perhaps the only difference between that and yourself was the fact that maybe they'd indeed be yours until the end.

Your last loves.

It had been about four beautiful years since you've accidentally confessed one late night and nothing had ever left you to reconsider your life choices. You were happy, truly happy. Even through the bad days and rough moments, they made you happy.

A rare love that everyone had always wished to have.

"You're quite happy today," Yoongi noted with a light chuckle as you continued staring at the snow outside from the passenger seat. "Did something good happen?" He asked as he took a left turn. "I heard Jimin scolded you a lot today and you aren't one to usually forget things. What's got you distracted, hm?"

"I just," you sighed dreamily, "I just love you guys so much."

The car fell silent and for that reason, you turned around to look at Yoongi, worried for his lack of response. "Yoon?" You called, suddenly becoming self-conscious as his face turned static and serious as he abruptly pulled the car aside to park just off the road and you looked away and down your lap, fingers fiddling with each other. "What's wrong?" Had you gotten the message wrong? Maybe they didn't really have any thought of the future yet and you had gotten too caught up in your daydreams?

Before you knew it, however, his cold fingers held your face, causing you to shiver, and the second you turned to face him, Yoongi's lips came crashing onto your lips.

He kissed you with passion, with the same need you could tell that he was in fact just as in love with you as you were and your heart began drumming rapidly. No matter how long it had been since your first kisses, they never ceased to make your heart flutter with excitement.

"You can't expect me not to kiss you when you say such a thing like that," he whispered the moment he leaned away just enough for him to rest his forehead against you.

"We've said those words a thousand times to each other," you said, laughing a little.

"It just makes me happy someone like you who's always so serious about her work and never likes getting off task would ever get distracted because we've been occupying your thoughts." He leaned in again to place a softer kiss upon your lips before giving you a soft peck on your forehead. Then he backed away to sit on his seat again, laying his head on the cushion of the seat. "I have a secret to tell you," he whispered.

You laid your hand into his, fingers intertwining into each other. "What is it?"

"I fell in love with you from the first moment we met eyes," Yoongi confessed. You chuckled lightly, smiling softly as you gave him a squeeze and the man looked at you, frowning. "Why aren't you surprised?"

"Seokjin told me once, about four years ago."

"Screw him," he grunted disappointedly. "He ruined my damn plans since four years ago."

"Hey, it's okay," you giggled as you placed a light kiss on his pale hand.

"Point is," Yoongi looked away and you could see a small hint of blush on his cheek, "I was happy and content, you know, being with the guys. It was a life I never thought I'd ever have, everything felt complete. But then I saw you and my mind was all over the place thinking about how damn great life would be, even better than it already was, if you were in it."

"Really?" You blinked, a little taken back someone like you who hadn't even spoken to the man had made him go all crazy with just a glance of your face.

Yoongi nodded. "And then when we were finally able to speak? I fell even more in love."

You grinned and quickly cooed as you reached out to pinch his soft cheeks. "You loved me from the beginning, Yoon? You're so adorable!"

"Stop it," he huffed, the blush growing rosier.

You laughed. "Well, look at us now. Happy and in love."

He nodded, smiling sweetly while leaning in again to place little eskimo kisses on you. "Happy and in love."

Suddenly the ring of one of your phones went off and Yoongi groaned at the sweet moment being taken away from the two of you.

"What?" You snickered at how grumpy his voice turned out.

"It's past midnight and you guys aren't home," you could hear Jungkook whining. "Are you alright? Is Y/N alright? Did Y/N get kidnapped and you had to go to her rescue or something?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Yoongi," you laughed aloud, something that didn't go past Jungkook's hearing.

"Stop stalling, the two of you," he grunted.

"I heard a snowstorm's coming our way soon so hurry back," Namjoon came onto the line and Yoongi rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be careful driving. We'll be back soon."

"You'd better or I'm locking you guys out!" Seokjin shouted from the background.

"Love you too hyung."

.

.

"Hey, baby?"

"Yeah?" Jungkook answered from the other line of the phone.

"Promise not to get mad?"

A small moment of silence passed before he let out a sigh. "What did you do?"

You whined. "You have to promise me you won't get mad at me first."

Another moment of silence and you cringed at the way the blizzard was blowing against your face, making you shiver some more as you hugged yourself. "Okay, I promise."

A little sigh of relief left you but you knew you couldn't let your guard down just yet. "Go into a room alone without any of the guys there to hear you."

"I'm already alone, babe, just spill."

"Okay, okay." You shivered again at the harsh coldness. "You know how the guys don't like it when I drive during wintertime? Yeah well, I woke up early this morning and decided to go on a drive 'cause why not and may have forgotten to watch the forecast that stated there'd be a big blizzard today and the car may have broken down and I may be waiting in the freezing cold for a tow truck to come."

You waited for his reply, lips pressed against each other with the anxiety eating you down because you felt disappointed in yourself and was sure Jungkook would be too.

"And, you're calling me because?"

You pouted. "I'm cold and I figured if I had to tell one of you guys, it'd be you because I know you wouldn't scold me as harshly as the rest."

"Says who?" He asked almost as if he was offended.

"Says you who's great at disobeying rules."

"Hey, I..-" He paused, "Yeah you're right." You giggled and he mirrored your amusement. "So where are you? I'll make an excuse to come pick you up."

You gasped, face suddenly lighting up due to the relief. "Thank you a billion times!"

"You owe me."

"Right, of course."

It wasn't long before Jungkook showed up and you found yourselves sitting in his car waiting for the tow truck to arrive, which you were sure would be quite a while.

"You know," Jungkook began with his feet raised upon the steering wheel as his seat was set back and lowered, "they're going to find out sooner or later."

"I know," you pouted. "But I'd rather enjoy this moment of no scoldings for now."

"Won't they get even madder since you're stalling telling them the truth and," he gasped, suddenly aware, "Crap, what if I get in trouble because I'm helping you out?"

"I promise I won't throw you under the bus like that," you quickly said. "But then they'll get madder 'cause I dragged you into this mess."

"Hey.." Jungkook reached out to ruffle your hair as a way of comforting you. "Just give them your puppy eyes and they'll forget all about it," he feigned a big smile.

"Forget it," you frowned, looking back out the window where everything was white. "It's been four years, they're not gonna fall for the same charms all over again."

Sadly.

"Why not?" The maknae shrugged. "I still fall for it every time you do it."

Suddenly, you were back to smiling. "Aww, little bun still has a soft spot for me?"

He mirrored your grin. "It's never gone away, baby, and it never will. But seriously," he held out his hand for you to take and squeezed it the moment you gave it to him, "four years is just a number and love will never falter if it's true so stop worrying so much. The only reason why they'd be upset is because they're concerned for your wellbeing. I would have probably scolded you too but I also do crazy things so I can't really be a brat to you about it." Cheekily, you nodded in agreement and he rolled his eyes before growing serious again. "Just because time has passed doesn't mean the love has lessen. We still love you just as much as when we began dating, maybe even more. And you're still the baby girl whom we love and cherish until the end of time."

Until the end of time.

The familiar sound of your ringtone began to go off and chills ran down your spine. But Jungkook just gave you a nudge with a sweet assuring smile.

"Go on," he urged, beckoning to the sweet nickname of Seokjin's that read on your phone. You picked your phone up hesitantly. "And remember, no lying or they'll be even more upset. I learned that the hard way."

"Yes, yes, I know." You laughed before taking a deep inhale and exhale then sliding the answer button. "H-hello?"

You held your breath as Seokjin replied, the worry already clear in his tone and you felt even more afraid. But with Jungkook by your side holding your other hand and giving you sweet encouraging looks, you went through the hard process of getting scolded by not just Seokjin but everyone else who heard his shouting from wherever he was.

The call ended twenty minutes later and your face was sullen by the time you placed your phone down.

"Good job, you did well," Jungkook praised from where he sat but your brows could only stay furrowed.

"I'm so dumb," you mumbled regretfully.

"Hey, no you're not," he consoled, soft and gentle as he laid a hand on your shoulder. "It's just one little mistake, they should be happy you aren't hurt or anything. You're owning up to your mistake and telling them the truth, not everyone can do such a thing, Y/N."

"But still," you sniffed and his heart fell at a slip of tear falling from your eyes. You hated getting scolded, always wanting to be the best in everyone's eyes. He knew you were a perfectionist who didn't take failure as something too lightly. You'd think about your mistakes for days and even years later and you'd find yourself cringing and regretting a mistake you've done long beforehand.

"Hey, it's okay." He held his warm hands upon your face, cupping it while gently brushing away the tears. You were so sensitive, too pure and precious for the world. "We don't love you any less, you know."

"But I'm upset at myself for even-"

Jungkook cut you off with a sweet kiss, one that left you almost breathless once he pulled away. "Forget about it," he said, "let's make snow angels."

You chuckled while rolling your eyes. "What are you, five?"

He narrowed his eyes at you accusingly. "I seem to remember you love every activity one can do with snow so I guess that makes us both five."

You grinned. "I guess that does."

He was always so great at making you feel better and forgetting about life for a moment to have fun and be happy despite the chaos. The wind was freezing cold but Jungkook held onto you tightly, giving you his pair of warm gloves because you lacked them and zipping you all the way up so you'd be a little warmer than you were before.

The day was fun and wonderful with you and Jungkook playing like little kids meeting snow for the very first time. He'd kiss you at any moment he could steal and run after you whenever you tried escaping from him.

But then the tow truck arrived too soon for your liking and the two of you drove home. Jungkook had to go through a mild scolding because he let you play around in the snow when you were sensitive to the cold, cheeks and the tip of your nose blush pink with hands that trembled, wet and freezing from grabbing too much snow. So, of course, you were also scolded not just for taking the car out (again) but also for forgetting about your wellbeing and having too much fun in the snow.

Hoseok made you a warm bubble bath in which you sat in while he washed your hair because you were still too frozen to try and do it yourself.

The whole time it was silent as he continued running his fingers through your hair before he took your hand and a loofah.

"I-I can do it myself," you try to say as you took your hand back, hoping he'd just let you reflect on your own without him or anyone being in the room with you.

Yet Hoseok stayed silent as he took your hand again and you allowed him. You had to when he was like that, face as serious as could be with a silent gaze. Yet his hands were gentle, a contrast to his static expression and you could only look at anywhere else but his eyes because Hoseok was too intimidating when he was silent.

He made you feel so small. Normally you'd like it — when he'd smile and giggle and pull you into his overprotective arms — but sitting there in the large bathtub with him silently helping you out, made your lips quiver because you couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"Don't look like that."

You looked up with a soft hum, gulping at his quiet but stern demand.

Yet Hoseok paid no mind to your gaze as he continued running the loofah through your arms. "Jungkook said you cried," he stated just as his hands moved onto your neck and you shivered nervously at the sensation. "You're always so sensitive when we scold you." Down your collarbones. "What are you thinking, hm? You're not thinking that we'd leave you just because of a small fight, right?"

"N-no." You paused, fixing your sentence. "I hope not." He remained silent but secretly hated those words coming out of you. "I just...I hate letting you down."

"Mmn," Hoseok hummed as his hands went around your neck and back, allowing you to shift closer to him. "And do you know why we're upset?" He asked and you shivered at how close his lips were to your ear, how close you were to his exposed collarbones.

"Because you don't want me to get hurt."

"That's right," he nodded. "What do we have to say to ourselves, hm?"

You bit your quivering lip, wanting to tear up at just his tone alone but kept it in. "I'm sorry."

Hoseok could hear it, the tremble in your voice but decided to ignore it for the moment like a sadistic boss. "You've always been a good girl, haven't you?"

"I-I think so," you stuttered, voice small, "I hope so."

He frowned, dissatisfied. "Haven't we taught you to be good to yourself?"

"Y-yes."

"Then do it, baby girl."

Damn.

If only he wasn't actually upset at you but either way, you couldn't deny the fact that Hoseok was a sexy man.

"I've always been a good girl," you said.

Hoseok finally let a smirk tug at his lips. "Good girl." His praise made you go weak and you were so thankful you were sitting rather than standing up. He leaned back, placing both hands on your shoulders and you shivered once more as he came face to face with you again, eyes of a hard demeanor. "But just because you're usually a good girl doesn't mean we'll let you go that easily."

He smiled slightly at the blush on your cheeks. "R-right."

"Are you scared of me, Y/N?"

"I am not."

"Good." Hoseok took your chin to hold your head up and leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a tempting and alluring kiss, one that you couldn't help but to kiss him back with the same passion. He held you close, captivating your heart and had it drumming a thousand times more than normal speed. You wanted to hold him too, to wrap your arms around his neck or just hold his shirt in general but you were too afraid to get him wet.

Once the two of you let go, you were left breathless with rapid breathing that was harsh and hard.

"The rules are only there because we worry."

You nodded at his words. "I know and I'm sorry."

"I love you," he said, capturing your lips again.

"I love you too."

.

.

"Joon?" You woke up from your dreams only to frown with worry as you watched Namjoon getting up from the bed looking all frantic. "What's wrong?" You asked while gently taking Taehyung's arms and Seokjin's foot off of you so that you could get up. "Isn't today our first day of the holiday weekend? Are we going back to work already?"

"No, you guys aren't, I am," he stated and rushed out the doors after grabbing his set of suit.

You frowned, concern filling your face and just as you were about to leave the bed, Taehyung had your hand.

"Baby?" He called, half asleep but still concerned with his deep croaky voice.

"Go back to sleep baby, it's five in the morning," you said, pressing a kiss upon his cheek. Once his eyes drooped again, you stepped away from the large bed to rush after Namjoon.

You walked into his office where you found the man already in his dress pants and putting on his white dress shirt with a bit of difficulty because he was in such a rush. Sighing at the sight, you walked up to the man, stopping his clumsy fingers to lay them at his side so that you could button the shirt up for him.

"You should go back to sleep," Namjoon sighed.

You shook your head. "There's an emergency, isn't there?"

"Not too concerning but I still have to be there since I'm the big boss."

"I'll come with you."

"No," he stated, clasping his large hands around you to stop your fingers from trying to button him up. "Stay here, it's too cold out there and I don't want to have to worry about you."

"You won't have to," you assured, "I'll be by your side the whole time."

"But-"

"You can't even dress your own self up, you really expect to do an even bigger thing on your own?" You asked him while giving him the pointed look. For a moment Namjoon felt conflicted until eventually he gave into your stern gaze and let his hands fall back to his sides, allowing you to continue helping him.

"You like your sleep," he pointed out as he slipped into his suit jacket and you went on to button that up.

You chuckled and he mirrored your action. "Yeah well, I like you more."

A little sigh left him as he placed a quick peck on your lips. "How did we ever get so lucky?"

You smiled. "I ask myself every day."

"I guess we were fated from the beginning, huh?"

"I guess we are."

Fate. What a wonderful word to describe the relationship as you kept by Namjoon's side the whole day while the two of you ran around to fix the damages caused by some employees who got some instructions wrong and therefore almost causing a catastrophe. Luckily through your quick thinking and Namjoon's intelligence, you were able to fix things a lot quicker than he would have if he were alone in the process.

"You deserve a reward."

You blinked, taken back by Namjoon's words. "But I didn't do anything."

"Are you kidding me?" He scoffed in disbelief as he leaned back against the elevator, arms crossed against his chest to check you out. "If it wasn't for you, I would have never figured out where the source of the problem began." You were about to protest when he took your hand, taking a few steps towards you before letting his head rest on your shoulder. "I'm serious, babe. You're a lifesaver. I'd make you my assistant but that brat would never let you go." The two of you chuckled knowingly at who he was referring to. "Have they called?"

"Yeah, Yoongi called to check in and I've updated him on the situation."

"Too bad our first supposed day off was wasted," he mumbled regretfully.

"We still have a week left," you assured him with a light squeeze of his hand, "Christmas will be here and we'll get to sleep in as much as we'd like."

"You'd like that, won't you?" Namjoon smirked as he leaned back to ruffle your head and you chuckled in response.

A ding was heard and the elevator doors split open.

"Joon, what do I get for people who has everything?" You asked the man as the two of you began walking out.

He chuckled knowingly. "You ask that every year, don't you?"

"Because it's always impossible to buy gifts for people who aren't in need of anything. Every year I have to think of the perfect gift and it gets harder and harder."

"Well then, just don't buy them anything this year."

"What?" You scoffed with a bit of a surprise. "But Christmas is a time for giving."

He stopped walking and held you back just as you were about to walk out the entrance door where the snowflakes were still falling down from the sky. "I don't want anything and neither do the guys," he told you.

But you could only narrow your eyes. "That's a lie. I know Jungkook and Taehyung are always secretly looking forward to gift unwrapping."

"Not this year, I promise you."

"But then what will we do for Christmas if there are no gifts to open?"

"Just spend time with each other like we always do every Christmas minus the gift unwrapping."

"Okay." You smiled, meeting his lips with your own. "As long as we're together."

"That's right," Namjoon nodded with his arms wrapped around you, "We've got everything we want, starting with you," you giggled as he bopped your nose, "and there isn't anywhere else I'd rather be."

.

.

"Can I try something?"

"Um..." Seokjin's eyes narrowed suspiciously at you but shrugged. "Sure?"

"Let me kiss you."

Huh.

You weren't one to initiate kisses that often since being in a group of seven boyfriends who had experience with relationships unlike you meant they were less shy about it, and you did do it from time to time but not through asking.

"Okay," Seokjin said, ready to pucker up his lips.

"Close your eyes," you ordered and he eyed you with suspicion again.

"What is this? Your first time trying to kiss someone? It's been four years, Y/N."

"Just close them!" You whined through a cute pout and the man chuckled.

"Fine."

He let his eyes flutter close and you took a moment to take in his features, handsome as ever, before you pressed your hands on top of his shoulders and lifted yourself from the bed to give him a quick peck. A second passed with his eyes still closed and lips smiling and you leaned in again for another one. Then another. By the time the fourth one came, your legs were wrapped around his waist and Seokjin held you close as the kiss lasted longer than the past ones, sweeter and slower, a kiss he allowed you to take a bit of control in with the two of you still in bed and in your pajamas.

"Is that what it was?" Seokjin chuckled the moment the kiss ended. "You wanted to see how it was to be in control of a kiss?"

Though your cheeks blushed, you nodded and your boyfriend praised you for getting the courage up to do so, something that made your cheeks even rosier and had him lean in to place a kiss on your cheek.

"I thought you said we weren't the first relationship you had."

"You aren't but my first one wasn't very good," you told him with a sad sigh that had him watch you with concern. "He was kind of a jerk and I was tempted to date him, I guess. I had no experience in love and he told me he'd take care of me very well but then things didn't go too well. I wanted to take things slow and he got a little impatient and tried to steal my first kiss so that was when I broke it off with him. And my second one, he was better than the first." Seokjin's heart fell for a moment staring at your soft smile as you reminisced on the memory but silently sighed a breath of relief when he realized it was rather a sad smile you had on instead of a happy one.

"But the thing about that one is that he was my childhood friend," you went on then added in a light chuckle. "He went to beat up my first boyfriend the second he found out how we ended. He was a good guy, a good friend, took care of me well as a boyfriend so I guess it was my fault we broke up."

Seokjin's brows furrowed. "Why would it be your fault?"

"Because he fell out of love with me," you said with eyes that grew somber and Seokjin's heart almost broke at just the look alone. "We didn't break up in a peaceful way. He said some cruel things and I was left broken for a long time."

"None of that is your fault," Seokjin told you as he sent a light squeeze against your hips. He held your chin up so that you could meet his sincere gaze as he spoke, needing you to see your worth. "He fell out of love with you, that's his fault for not seeing you as the perfect most beautiful woman. And if I knew you back then, maybe I would have punched him in the face."

You chuckled. "Jin-"

"Or maybe I would have bought him a cup of coffee and thanked him for letting you go so that you could meet better people, like me and the guys."

You smiled as your heart swelled. "I love you, thank you for coming into my life."

Seokjin swooned. "Oh baby girl, it's us that should be thankful." He leaned in to kiss you, almost letting your lips dance for longer but he leaned back too quick for your liking. "So, why'd you ask me out of all the guys anyway?"

And suddenly you were back to blushing again. "W-well, you're the eldest so I just thought, you know, just thought you'd be the least likely to tease me."

"Ah," he chuckled. "You're a little more comfortable doing it with me, huh?"

"Y-yeah," you admitted shyly before looking back at him with timid eyes. "Can I try it again? I think I like it."

A smirk played on his lips while his heart fluttered because you were just too cute. "Go on, baby."

You leaned down while he leaned up and you captured his lips again, going a little further as he allowed you the dominance, something you were still shy about but fought through the timid state to continue on. Seokjin tasted so sweet below you and he almost grabbed your face to take back the control, an instinct of his, but held himself back for your sake.

You were flushed red by the time your lips disconnected. "How was it?" The man asked with a light pat on your bottom.

"You're sweet, Jin, so sweet."

He chuckled while leaning up to place light eskimo kisses on you. "You're so cute."

You made him promise you he wouldn't tell any of the guys about it because you were still shy, something he was totally understanding about. But you should have known Seokjin wasn't one to keep secrets from the guys unless absolutely necessary so by the time he was alone with the guys, you being away with a chauffeur to go for dress shopping for that annual Christmas Eve party you'd all attend, he ended up blurting it out before he could stop himself.

"Y/N did what?" Jimin's mouth gaped while the rest just stared with bewilderment.

"Crap, I wasn't supposed to tell you," the eldest realized just a second too late.

"I bet she was cute about it. Was she cute, hyung?" Jungkook asked, already imagining a picture in his head at the thought of you on top of Seokjin, fighting through your natural shy self for some dominance.

"So cute her cheeks were blushing but damn did she do it so well," Seokjin recalled only to cringe afterward, "But you can't mention it to her that I told you otherwise she'll get upset at me and I do not want our girlfriend getting mad at me."

"But I want in, hyung," Taehyung whined through his pout.

"Why'd she go to you and not me?"

"Why'd she go to you and not any of us?" Namjoon corrected to which Yoongi rolled his eyes.

Seeing them so desperate in wanting to know how it felt to have you in control of a kiss, just because of the experience, Seokjin could only smirk as he leaned against his fist with his elbow propped up against the arm of the sofa. "Hmm, I wonder."

They all groaned in unison.

"How was she, hyung?" Hoseok asked.

"Hmm...I wonder."

It was then that they knew Seokjin was never going to tell them how the experience actually went and all whined about how unfair it was for Seokjin keeping you to himself.

.

.

"Jin hyung said that you—"

In the middle of the ballroom where Taehyung and you stood dancing during the Christmas Eve party, he stopped himself in mid-sentence before he could say anything further and you looked up at him, pretty eyes looking confused and if you weren't so shy about PDAs, he would have stolen a kiss from you right then and there. You were too pretty. Every time they'd bring you to some sort of event, you'd get all dolled up with pretty makeup that wasn't too cakey because you had a natural beauty, and your dress would be the most perfect in the room, outshining everyone else who had hoped to shine that evening.

Your dressed hugged you tightly, red and sparkly with soft red lipstick and Taehyung could only groan because he was upset you went to his hyung rather than him for an experiment on having control in a kiss.

Why couldn't it be him? Why did it have to be Seokjin? And why hadn't the others said anything to you about it? He was sure one of them would spill the beans that Seokjin in fact broke your promise so he wouldn't have to face an upset Seokjin in case he was the one who told you the truth. But then again, maybe that was why; because the others were also afraid of the consequences of disobeying their eldest hyung.

"What did Seokjin say?" You asked the man.

"U-Uh," Taehyung stuttered, suddenly nervous. Why did you have to be afraid of kissing them? He wasn't at all intimidating, at least not towards you. But why Seokjin? Maybe because the others were more likely to tease you? Oh — yeah, that was it.

"Tae?" You called, concerned.

"He said that the desserts are to die for so let's go check it out," your boyfriend quickly made the excuse, abruptly stopping in the middle of the dance to drag you away, something you couldn't help but be confused about but still followed him either way.

"You're being weird," you eyed the man as he handed you a plate with a slice of cake.

"Me?" He scoffed. "I'm just hungry," he said, plopping a piece of cake into his mouth. "Oh, and I need to pee so let's go."

"Wait but I haven't-" Suddenly he was grabbing you by the arm again after putting both of your plates back onto the table and dragged you away. "If you need the bathroom, go by yourself, Taehyung," you grunted as you struggled to keep up with how fast he was going especially with the heels you were wearing.

By the time the two of you were out of sight from everyone else, Taehyung had you trapped between him and the wall with a small smirk on his face.

"You didn't need to pee, did you?" You rolled your eyes, realization hitting you with the sly grin he had on.

"No, but I do want something."

"What?"

"A Christmas present."

You pouted, shoulders slumped. "But Namjoon said we weren't doing any of that this year and Christmas is in a few minutes, I can't go out to buy something for-"

"I'm not talking about gifts like that," Taehyung cut you off. "I want something else."

You tilted your head to the side. "Something else? What's that?"

He smirked. "A kiss."

You blinked. "A kiss?"

"A kiss."

Confused, you scratched your head. "But I can give you a kiss any other time, why would you so desperately want a kiss for your Christmas present?"

"Because it'll be different."

"Different how?"

"I want you to take the initiative. I want you to try and take control." Smart, smart Taehyung, he thought, praising himself. What a great way to try and get what he wanted the most without exposing anyone.

The cheeky grin curled at his lips as he watched a blush quick and easy to form on your cheeks. "C-control?"

"Yeah, why not?" Taehyung shrugged nonchalantly as if he hadn't known of your little moment with his hyung a few days prior. "It isn't that difficult."

"Yes, it is!"

"Oh come on, you—" he stopped himself again from almost blurting out the fact that he had taken the initiative for Seokjin and almost grew mad because you had been willing to give it to his hyung. "Please?" He pled instead, puppy eyes and all.

You groaned, looking away from him. "But it's almost midnight, the guys will be expecting us to be with them."

"And what better time to kiss me than when the clock strikes twelve?"

"They'll get mad."

"It's just one night."

"But Tae-"

"Come on, the new years haven't come yet and that's even more of a special night for the eight of us. Christmas is one step down."

You frowned. "But won't you be able to convince them easier when the New Year comes? It'll be your birthday anyways."

Like a little child, he whined. "I can't wait that long."

"It isn't-"

"I'm not letting you go," Taehyung declared as he leaned in a little closer so that you would know he wasn't going to give up until you gave in to his wishes. "Kiss me before the clock strikes twelve and we'll be back by their sides in no time," he offered and you groaned again.

He was such a brat, sometimes even worse than Jimin but you knew you'd never be able to deny him anything, not when it came to any of them. So you heaved a sigh and looked into his gaze, a slight pout resting on your face. "Fine."

Taehyung cheered and allowed you to slide your hands from his chest to his shoulders, ready to fall even more in love with you. The closer you inched forward with feet that reached to its tippy-toes because he was tall, the quicker his smile faded into a serious expression.

And then, your lips met his and the world fell away as you fought against the hesitation to take some control. He swooned the moment your lips danced for dominance and groaned into your mouth. You were just too sweet he wanted to take you home right at that moment.

But he knew he couldn't be selfish and keep you to himself for long, not when both of your phones chimed at once, indicating to the fact that someone had texted the group chat, probably wondering where the two of you were.

Taehyung whined when you pulled away, leaning in to chase after your lips but you pushed his chest back teasingly.

"Come on, let's get back to the boys."

"More," he pouted.

"Maybe later. We wouldn't want them to get upset, now do we?"

He groaned as you dragged him away and back towards the ballroom where you were quick to find the rest and join them.

"Your lips are swollen," Jimin gave you both pointed looks and while you blushed, Taehyung only smirked as he leaned in to whisper into Jimin's ears, words you couldn't hear but was sure Taehyung had been up to no good when Jimin was left gaping his mouth as he looked back at you.

But right as you were about to question the 95 liners, Hoseok cleared in throat, catching your attentions in a silent demand of focusing on the clock.

Everyone had gathered around the Christmas tree, familiar faces around the room, people you'd meet at other parties and some you'd meet only at that specific Christmas event every year. Either way, everything was warm and loving and as you stood between Hoseok and Namjoon, they took your hands into theirs, holding it tightly and you smiled at the tradition of your small group holding each other's hands.

By the time the clock struck twelve, words of 'Merry Christmas' were shouted into the large room and then everyone scattered away once again.

Some would stay for a moment longer, others, like you and the boys that night, left just as soon as time allowed them.

"I'm sleepy," you yawned with arms stretched out as soon as you got into the limousine.

"Stay awake for a little longer, baby," Yoongi chuckled and you pouted.

"But why?"

"Because," they all shared a knowing look which had you frowning, "we've got a special present for you."

You were wide awake again, quick to point the finger at Namjoon. "You liar."

"Liar?" Namjoon raised a brow.

"You told me not to get you guys anything since we weren't going to do the traditional present exchange like everyone else does on Christmas and now you're pulling this one me?"

"Did I?" He feigned innocence.

"That's not fair, I didn't get you guys anything," you pouted. "It was a test, wasn't it? To see how spoiled I really was and you hadn't meant we'd actually not do gift exchange? And I failed, didn't I?"

You wanted to cry with the disappointment in yourself hitting you hard in the chest. You had always been spoiled by them and they've always claimed they loved spoiling you but maybe they've gotten tired of it and wanted to test your true love for them, not the love of them spoiling you — which was totally untrue but you've already messed up and—

"Baby, it isn't like that," Jungkook said with warm hands that cupped your face to make sure you knew he was sincere. "I promise."

Still, you couldn't get the crease between your brows to disappear. "I'm still being spoiled either way."

"Because we want to, baby," he avowed.

"We love spoiling you," Taehyung nodded in agreement.

"We came up with this gift together," said Jimin, "one gift from the seven of us, for you."

"Trust us, hm?" Seokjin asked of you.

For some reason, being in that vehicle as Jungkook let go of you and you stared at each one of them whose eyes were solely on you, it was probably the most serious you had ever seen them outside of business hours. They liked fooling around, liked teasing you and each other, so to see them like that had only told you that they really wanted to give you that gift.

Whatever it was.

"Okay," you said and the smiles returned on their faces.

"You'll like it," Hoseok said with a pause, "hopefully."

You took his hand and squeezed it. "You know I'll love any present you give me."

Surprisingly the limo drove you right back home where you all got out. Only, they didn't let you retire to your shared bedroom, nor staying in the large living room.

They led you up two flight of stairs, past everything you knew that was in the house and into a specific room you hadn't ever seen before since living there. You gasped at the sight in front of you, glass windows above and around you that allowed you to see the beautiful stars and the pretty view of the city on the horizon, with beautiful pillars that were painted of the pretty galaxy and your heart began beating rapidly. It was like walking into the room of the gods of the stars, of the galaxy, and you couldn't help but gasp in awe at everything.

You've told them before that their eyes always glowed of a thousand starlight and perhaps that was the theme to the Christmas present.

"Why did you keep this room a secret from me?" You asked as you ran forward to press your hand against the glass, looking at the beautiful stars from above. "How did you keep this a secret? I thought I knew every room in this mansion."

"We kept it hidden with hopes of special moments like this," Seokjin told you.

Your attention still on the view, you chuckled lightly. "But Christmas happens every year, why reveal it now?"

Someone took your hand so that you could take your eyes off the view and back at them. You watched them in confusion under the dim purple lights that illuminated the room, heart beating even more for some reason at just the sight of the seven of them in front of you, handsome in suits, face more serious than you'd ever seen.

"We're lucky, you know," Yoongi began, "to have someone like you love us with all her heart. It still amazes me 'til this day that I'm actually dating the person whom I fell in love with at first sight. At first I thought it was just a silly crush, thought that I'd get over it because I had six other wonderful people I was in love with. But then when I first spoke to you and you stuttered cutely, cheeks blushing rosy pink, gosh my heart began beating faster than ever. You were just too pretty."

"I've always had this overwhelming urge to protect you," Namjoon chuckled after Yoongi. "You were small and cute, but held your head high and worked the hardest out of the new employees we received that week, and possibly even harding than the older employees. You'd voice in your thoughts about certain things when you had to, which saved us a lot of time that'd be wasted if you hadn't said your opinions. People are jealous of you because you try the hardest, because you grabbed our attention quicker than anyone else."

"They're jealous of your beauty," Taehyung added in. "They're jealous of the fact that you can still be a sweetheart and look so pretty. Which is stupid because they should be looking up to you instead but it's fine, you're the one we love anyways so it doesn't matter. But then your beauty also gets us overprotective because you steal the attention of other guys who wants you for themselves. I still have this urge to punch every man that looks at you in a certain way, that's why PDA is the best way to show them you belong to us."

"But we couldn't do that when you weren't ours before," Jungkook pouted. "It was painful, you know, seeing other guys flirt with you but not being able to do much because we didn't know whether you liked us or not and was afraid you wouldn't like us acting as if we were intruding in on your life. The night you confessed was something totally out of the blue, I had always imagined it'd be us having to get the courage to do the confessing but nope, you made the job so much easier."

Hoseok laughed as he recalled the moment. "It was cute, you climbing into my arms and nuzzling against me, whining about how I only treated you as a friend rather than a lady. Truth is, I've always dreamt of you doing something like that, being a clingy little kitty because you loved me and wanted me for yourself. But you've always been a shy little thing so I'm glad we managed to pull you out of your shell after all these years. I love every clingy moment from you, I adore it."

"It's a little sad when you don't see yourself with much worth though," Seokjin chimed in with lips pressed into a thin line. "I'd observe you and watch the way your eyes would scan your outfits because your bullies had said something cruel and untrue. You doubt yourself a lot, thinking you're not good enough but darling, you are so much more than who you see. Whatever kinds of people you've met in your past, their harsh words are irrelevant. You're special and pretty, you have a kind heart, you aren't a brat, you're the most selfless person we've ever met."

"And the most hardworking," Jimin added. "When I first hired you as my assistant, it wasn't because you were my girlfriend, it was because I was observing everyone in the building and watching their skills and you were the one that struck out to me. You're smart and quick and you keep up with me no matter how many tasks I'd give you, even going as far as refusing my kisses because you don't like slacking off." He pouted and you giggled. "All in all, none of those girls me and Jin hyung used to flirt with are as great as you. You're the prettiest, the cutest, most beautiful both inside and out."

"What is all this?" You asked, a bit overwhelmed by the sweet gestures and words you had already begun to tear up. "How can your Christmas presents keep getting better each year? Now I really regret not getting you guys anything."

"I told you, we need nothing from you," Namjoon assured. "All we want is your love and maybe, just maybe," he shuffled nervously while the rest began to avoid eye contact, teeth biting their lips, hands running on the back of their necks, fiddling with their fingers. You almost wanted to laugh at how cute they were, being so nervous. The first you've ever seen them in such a way.

"Maybe..what?" You asked, suddenly nervous yourself because of the way they were acting.

Namjoon cleared his throat and the fiddling and fidgetings stopped. They were back to looking at you with eyes that were still clearly nervous.

"Y/N Y/L,  will you make us the happiest men on Earth?"

You blinked.

Wait, what?

Your heart pounded hard against your chest, tears blurring your vision as Namjoon took out a beautiful velvet box from his pocket. You blinked a few times more to rid of the tears in order to see them but nothing in that moment could ever stop the tears as Namjoon held open the box in front of you, revealing a beautiful diamond ring.

"Will you marry us?" He asked and your cry choked out a small squeaked as you nodded your head a dozen times.

"Yes, yes, yes," you cried and fell into their warm embraces.

The ring slipped onto your finger perfectly and the eight of you cried a little more with small laughs here and there as you shared kisses because you still couldn't believe it was real.

That night, you couldn't ever let go of one another, the happiness drowning in your kisses and embraces.

A fateful love that would last into eternity. Until the end of time.