#and i know absent parents count as abusive ones my point was more that its a different flavor of trauma | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sortagaysortahigh · 2 years

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Trailer Park Pretty | Eddie Munson

A/N: I had so many concept ideas for this specific fic, but i present to you hurt/comfort friends to lovers with our nerd king. Also as usual my reader is coded, and in this specific fic she leans towards being black coded w big curly hair, and one last thing, before anyone tries to pull the ‘well its obv ab a white reader bc white ppl live in trailer parks’, i just KNOW you’ve never been to the south bc there’s hella black/brown trailer parks down there...like bitch don’t play w me. ALSO this is fanon...so for the sake of this spcific fic dustin and susie arent together lmao

Summary: “A girl like that? She’s what you call trailer park pretty, she gets it from her mama, she’s gonna have a guy from every corner of the park and beyond after her-you just gotta be the one to get her attention and treat her right cause there’s gonna be a lot of them that won’t.”

Warnings: angst, mentions of domestic abuse/parent in an abusive relationship (brief, not graphic), mentions of a deceased father (i give my y/n’s trauma im sorry), mentions of insecurity, eldest sister who takes care of her family instead of herself, mentions of cornography (dirty magazines, sci-fi based corn, Eddie’s Heavy metal magazines), spelling and grammar errors, brief mentions of sex, mentions of mary jane, mentions of absent parental figures, mentions of trauma, violence (broken bottles, cuts/scrapes, and a cast iron skillet, broken/shattered hands) - nothing happens to the main characters

Word Count: 11.5k

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

(so totally very much in love)

Eddie Munson had quite the crush on one of his neighbors-Y/n y/l/n to be specific or as he called her ‘Curly’-courtesy of her big curly hair that she’d been sporting since they were kids.

Her family had been living in their red and white trailer for as long as he could remember. They lived on the lot to the left of his, her family consisted of Y/n, her mother, and her little sister who was nearly finished with her freshman year at Hawkins High and based on the way guys were constantly dropping the girl off-he knew she had the same charm as her meaner older sister.

Y/n Y/l/n was the definition of pretty, growing up his crush on Y/n came and went depending on the status of their friendship. But one thing he knew for sure was that she’d gotten prettier and prettier as they grew up, and anytime he asked his uncle for advice about her-especially when the two attended Hawkins at the same time-Wayne always told him the same thing.

“A girl like that? She’s what you call trailer park pretty, she gets it from her mama, she’s gonna have a guy from every corner of the park and beyond after her-you just gotta be the one to get her attention and treat her right cause there’s gonna be a lot of them that won’t.”

Wayne was right about one thing, the older she got, the more male attention she got. When the two went to school together he remembered seeing her in the hallways, constantly rolling her eyes as some guy offered to hold her books and walk her to class, or they’d try to talk to her at her locker, not to mention the way they’d always ask her to sports games, some even offering her their jersey-trying to make some ‘big’ statement-she rejected them all. The only person she hadn’t completely rejected was Steve Harrington, but after one date she let him down as softly as she could.

It was after he’d been dumped by Wheeler-Eddie remembered hearing about it through the grapevine, he almost felt bad for Steve. Getting cheated on, then dumped, then he actually thinks he gets the girl but she has to let him down because apparently Y/n knew that he was still in love with his ex. However, now they were friends-to the point that he’d seen Steve pick her up several times.

She was always so close, yet so far out of reach. He’d never even been able to make a move, anytime he tried to speak to her he’d get nervous and completely move past it, opting to talk about music, his band, what she’d been up to-hell he knew a lot about flower maintenance because he’d always see her outside the trailer, taking care of the potted plants lining the front of it.

It wasn’t like she was a bitch to him, she’d actually always been nice to Eddie, probably because they’d been neighbors and as kids the two were friends, but they drifted apart due to their different interests. Eddie loved music and Y/n loved nature. So while he was inside learning how to play the guitar, she was outside tending to her mother’s plants, or she’d ride her bike to the forest and trudge her way around it-granted an unsupervised twelve year old alone in the forest wasn’t a great reflection of her mother’s parenting-however Y/n easily roped her sister into going with her.

As long as the girl had her backpack full of drinks, snacks, and supplies, alongside her trusty compass, and the crowbar her mother spray painted pink and told her to use if anyone ever came into the house when she wasn’t home-then the two were perfectly fine. Some days Eddie would see Y/n on her bike with her sister in tow, the two riding off towards the forest, and other days she’d hear the sounds of him strumming chords when she’d walk past his trailer-that’s just how it was.

But that didn’t mean Y/n was nice to everyone. She’d grown up poor-he knew that-hell anyone who lived in Forest Hills knew that-because they all lived it. She’d been chastised and bullied as a kid, growing a thick skin by the ripe age of ten-and by then she was fighting boys on the playground. Of course the classism didn’t end in elementary school, kids were mean-and those same kids grew into spoiled rotten teenagers. She had no issue in socking guys twice her size in the face-and she had a mean right hook.

So it’s safe to say Y/n had quite the reputation in Hawkins, even after she’d graduated last year people still spoke about her when they spoke about her younger sister. To the point that even Eddie had heard the older jocks warning their younger teammates about even trying to date Mia Y/l/n, saying if she was anything like her older sister they’d need God’s good graces. Not to mention the fact that they’d have to actually go through with meeting her sister, the girl still had that pink crowbar.

She was perfect, at least he thought so.

When he stepped outside he hadn’t expected to see her outside, the only people he expected to see were his neighbors who worked at one of the plants or factories-either coming home or leaving for a long shift. But there she was, her wild frizzy hair blowing slightly in the morning breeze, an oversized flannel over her body-and he couldn’t help but crack a smile at the way it was clearly buttoned unevenly, and from what he could see she had on her bunny slippers.

He watched for a few seconds as she pulled the clean laundry from the clothesline, holding a white basket to her hip as she pulled the articles off with her free hand. Then she spotted him, raising a brow.

“Hey Munson!” she had to yell a little bit so he’d hear her completely,”hey Curly!” he lifted a hand, waving it at her, trying not to blush as he noticed the smile on her face as she rolled her eyes. Then she grabbed the final few pieces of clothes before turning around and heading back inside. The entire time he stood there he was blushing and smiling, he looked like a lovesick puppy-then he finally snapped out of it, fishing his van keys out of his pocket as he walked up it, unlocking the back doors and rummaging through-looking for a specific tape of his band’s new songs.

However, no less than ten minutes later, when he finally found the tape, he heard the front door of her trailer slam open, followed by her mother’s boyfriend clearly being shoved out, stumbling slightly with a long cut along his cheekbone, blood clearly dripping along his face-not to mention the cast iron skillet that clanked loudly as it hit one of the wooden steps then the gravel below. Then he spotted Y/n walk out, her mother tried to chase after her-but Mia held her mom back. Meanwhile Y/n held a broken beer bottle-probably the reason he was bleeding in her hand.

He watched as she ran behind him, kicking him in the back of one of his knees-then in his moment of imbalance she shoved him to the ground, one foot against his back, the other stepping on one of his hands-the cry of pain from him unmistakable as she gripped him by the hair, pulling his head back-ignoring his shouts of pain as she pointed the broken bottle to his face as she spoke.

“You think you can put your fuckin hands on my mama like that? You come around here again-I’ll drag you by your fuckin hair to Monroe’s and feed you to the pigs alive.” she stepped harder onto his hand-clearly shattering part of it “you understand me you old fuck?” he winced as she pressed one of the broken ends of the bottle into his cheek. “I said, do you fuckin understand me?”

“Yes-y-yes” she smiled, dropping his head-and it immediately fell flat against the cobblestone and grass below. “Good. Now get the fuck outta here before I get my dad’s gun, I’ve got jack shit to lose” with that she kept one foot on his back, the other off his broken hand as she stepped over him. Her mother stared with tears running down her cheeks while Mia looked both impressed and terrified.

All Eddie could do was stare, his eyes wide and jaw dropped. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen something like that living in Forest Hills, it was no secret that a good portion of the men that were brought around here weren’t good guys. But he’d never witnessed Y/n like that-at least not with a grown man. Sure he’d seen her sock a few guys in the face here and there, but his heart was racing as he watched her single handedly take down her mother’s now ex-boyfriend. He shouldn’t have found that as attractive as he did-but he couldn’t help it.

What Eddie didn’t know was that Y/n hadn’t even meant for that to happen. As soon as she walked into the trailer she placed the clean laundry basket on the floral patterned couch, she wanted to make breakfast for her mom and sister, then fold clothes, and once the two were headed to school and work, she planned on cleaning the trailer then she was planning on taking the lot rent check in. However that quickly changed the second she heard her mother fighting with one of her shitty boyfriends-this ones named paul.

She watched as the two of them walked through the trailer, her mother followed behind him, berating him about his whereabouts yesterday-it was clear things had escalated fast-but the second she noticed him grab her mother’s shoulder the way he did alongside the pained look on her face-Y/n easily connected the dots especially after spotting a bruise on her mother’s back a few days ago. So she did what any rational almost-twenty year old would do, she grabbed an empty beer bottle off the counter.

The next few moments were a blur, it felt almost like an episode of Looney Tunes-she grabbed his shoulder as hard as she could-and she immediately hit him with the bottle-glass breaking and slicing his cheek right open. Then as he stumbled slightly she grabbed the cast iron skillet from the counter and didn’t hesitate to smack him with it, watching as he fell backwards into the door-falling right through it, stumbling outside.

Meanwhile her mother was shouting for her to stop, while Mia came running from their shared room-immediately grabbing her mother the second they stepped outside-watching as her older sister did what she did best-took care of them.

The icing on the cake however was Y/n walking past her mother and sister-handing Mia the bottle and mumbling “just incase” then she rushed inside, emptying the laundry basket onto the couch before rushing to her mother’s room, gather all of her boyfriends random things-followed by his car keys and rushing back out, heading to his beat up sedan, unlocking it and throwing all of his shit inside of it. Then she walked the few steps back towards him, threw the keys on the ground next to him.

“Get the fuck up and go!” she stared down at him, watching as he struggled to get off the floor. The entire time she didn’t move, she watched as he made his way to his car and got in-her eyes held on him until he was speeding off.

That’s when she noticed Eddie staring, she didn’t even acknowledge it, simply turning back around and making her way towards her mother and sister “are you two okay?” the concern in her voice evident as she paused in front of them-her hands on her sisters face first-making sure she was alright, then she pulled her crying mother into a hug-she’d always been a little taller than her mom so it made it easier to gently massage her scalp as she hugged her.

The entire reason Y/n always rejected guys was simple, she didn’t have time for a relationship-not when she was the glue that kept her family together. Sure she had crushes here and there, but she didn’t think too deeply into them, she’d grown up taking care of Mia while her mom worked long hours to keep a roof over their heads, but now as an adult she found herself taking care of her mother and Mia. She never gave herself the opportunity to be mad about it-knowing that dwelling wouldn’t change things.

She did the best she could with the minimal free time she had, of course the girl had a few one night stands in high school-but now she avoided them, opting to spend those nights sitting on top of the trailer stargazing, or she’d be reading-lately she’d been into the lord of the rings saga, Eddie recommended it a while ago and she’d never gotten around to it, other times she’d focus on cleaning, keeping things nice and tidy.

“Go finish getting ready, I’ll drive you to school today Mia.”

Once her mother and sister went back inside, she stood outside for a few more minutes, then she went inside, grabbing the pack of marlboro reds from her mother’s jacket hanging by the door alongside a lighter, then she walked back outside, sitting on the wooden steps, placing one between her lips and lighting it. She’d never been a strong cigarette smoker-but when she was stressed and had things to do and weed wasn’t an option, it was the next best thing. It set in that it wasn’t even seven thirty yet as she smoked, her gaze held on the skyline past the Mayfield’s trailer-it always looked the prettiest looking that way.

Eddie shoved the tape into his pocket and made his way over there, she didn’t say anything-but he knew she saw him. Then he sat next to her on the steps, watching as she absentmindedly handed him the pack of cigarettes and the lighter, which he accepted.

“You think life ever gets better Eddie?” he shrugged as he lit the cigarette, taking a quick puff before speaking “for people like you? Yeah definitely” her brows knit together as she exhaled smoke, gaze now held on him “people like me?” he nodded his head “yeah, protective, rough shell-soft heart, good person-yeah, life’ll get better for you” she slowly nodded “I dunno if almost murdering a forty year old man makes me a good person” he laughed at that, nodding his head as he turned to look at her.

“Looks like he deserved it to me” she cracked a small smile, nodding her head “I hit him with a pan” he laughed at that, shaking his head “that’s one way to get your point across” she rolled her eyes as she lightly shoved him.

Moments like these always reminded Eddie of why he’d fallen for her in the first place, regardless of if they were talking every single day or once every other month it was as if nothing had changed. She was always so warm around him, her wide smile almost always made its way to her face as they spoke, and she was so comfortable around him. He was practically her childhood best friend-sure they weren’t extremely close anymore but they’d still been around for one another if need be.

She leaned her head against his shoulder “be honest with me Munson-did I look like a psycho?” he laughed at that, shaking his head “looked pretty badass to me, gotta say, I’ve never seen someone in bunny slippers take down a grown man” she rolled her eyes, the same smile on her face as she put the cigarette out on the steps below. “Someones gotta protect them y’know” he slowly nodded, his brows knit together as he processed her words.

“So who’s gonna protect you?” she sat back up, shrugging with a confused look on her face “I’ve never really thought of that-guess I am? I mean i’ve been doing it pretty well for years” he nodded again, looking at her, he then took a second to gently tuck one of her curls out of her face behind her ear. “Remember when we were kids and you made me promise I’d always be there for you if you needed someone” she smiled, grasping his hand that had been ghosting her face and moving it away.

“That’s cause you pushed me off of the jungle gym and I broke my arm” he laughed “Hey! That’s just semantics! What I’m trying to say is-if you ever need someone y’know where to find me” she nodded her head at that “thank you Eddie” “course Curly, that’s what friends are for-and neighbors I guess?” she shoved him again, laughing now “you’re so lame Munson” she heard the door behind her creak open-the two of them turning their gazes towards it-spotting Mia looking down at them.

“Oh uh-hey Eddie. Uhm, are you ready to go?” she raised a brow at her sister “what time is it” Mia shrugged “almost seven thirty-like five off” she nodded her head “yeah just gotta change my shoes” with that she stood up, and Eddie followed suit. “Uh, I’m gonna head back but like I said Curly, you know where to find me” she smiled, watching as he stepped down, nodding her head.

Then she went inside and opted to change into her vans, she kept on the flannel because she knew she wasn’t going anywhere after dropping off her sister. The two sisters walked out first, then as they were getting into the old beat up Camry, their mother followed suit, only in her work clothes-the diner uniform having a few unwashable stains on it. “Y/n where’s my cigarettes?” she reached into her jacket’s pocket, tossing them to her mother, then she followed suit with the lighter. “I’ll be home late tonight okay, working a double” the two nodded their heads.

Then they were headed their separate ways.

However less than five minutes into the drive Mia turned the radio down, staring at her sister.

“What’s up with you and Munson?” her brows knit together at the question as she quickly glanced at her sister-then back at the road. It was clear that Mia was serious, however Y/n didn’t get where the question came from. “Uh nothing? We’re friends” she slowly nodded “so why don’t you hang out with him then-if you’re friends”

“Because I don’t have time and he probably has too much time” Mia laughed at that, nodding her head. It was no secret that Eddie was repeating his senior year for the third time-however from what she’d gathered he was finally on the way to graduate. “That's total bull! You spend your time reading those nerdy books and stargazing! You definitely have time!” she shushed her sister, reaching to turn the radio back on-however Mia immediately turned it back down.

“Come to think of it, the only people you hang out with are your co-workers, and sure Robin and Steve are technically your friends-you don’t even hang with them off the clock! But you also don’t look at them the way you look at Eddie!” she scoffed “now I know you’re bullshiting me Mia! I do not look at Eddie any different than anyone else.”

“Yes you do! You have like this little sparkle in your eye! And you’re all smiley and giggly! You’re never like that!” her brows knit together again as she shook her head “I am not all smiley and giggly! I don’t giggle you little shit!” she nodded her head “yes you do! I’ve only ever heard you giggle around Eddie! Even when we were younger and you’d show him some weird bug you found!”

She rolled her eyes “Hey! You liked the weird bugs too!” her sister scoffed “stop changing the subject! What's going on between you and him! Are you two gonna date!” her eyes practically popped out of her head at the question-granted she used to have a crush on him-but she hadn’t thought about that in years. “No! What the hell!” Mia slightly squinted, skepticism evident on her features “so why’d he say you know where to find him huh?! Don’t you think it’s time you go on a date and get a boyfriend! He’s cute too!” she scoffed again “Mia! I am not going on any dates! Quit it! Me and him are just friends!”

As Y/n pulled into the Hawkins High parking lot she sighed, parking the car and staring at her sister “now cut it out! Besides, don't you have your own love life to worry about!” Mia shook her head “actually, no. I don’t. I enjoy being single, besides the guys here are tools. I just like getting rides home-but today I’m going to Tina’s so you don’t have to get me.” she nodded her head at Mia, digging in the pocket of her shorts and pulling out a ten dollar bill, handing it to her.

“I know you’ve been saving the money mom gives you and mooching off of other people you little shit” her sister laughed “hey! I know you did it too! Free food from dumb guys is worth it!” she raised a brow “you’re something else Mia, now go before you’re late!” with that Mia got out of the car, slutting the door “bye! Love ya!” to which Y/n responded with “love ya more!”

A few hours had passed, and while Y/n was home cleaning, Eddie was currently sitting in the cafeteria listening to Henderson ramble on about the really pretty girl in his math class. Something about how smart she was, and the way she always smelled so good-which he defended himself in saying it wasn’t creepy because he sat behind her.

“Eddie, are you even listening?” he blinked a few times, nodding his head “uh yeah, something about a girl in your math class Henderson?” Everyone stared at him with confused expressions, he almost never zoned out mid conversation-usually he was the one to further the conversation with his commentary or advice to his younger friends.

Gareth cleared his throat “he’s talking about Mia” Eddie’s eyes widened “as in Mia Y/l/n?” the brunette nodded, then Eddie was looking at Dustin “you’re into Curly’s sister?” the freshman looked confused “who’s curly? I know she has an older sister-didn’t know you two were friends though” Eddie nodded his head “yeah we’re neighbors, we’ve been friends since I was like six and she was five”

“So what’s the big deal exactly? Mias really nice-sure she clearly takes advantage of meatheads-but I’m not a meathead and I’m a gentleman!” Dustin spoke with his hands, glancing between Jeff, Gareth, then Eddie. Earning a slight grimace from Jeff “Mia might be nice-but her sister’s definitely not. She wasn’t a bully but she definitely isn’t the friendliest-and she threw a literal encyclopedia at Jason Carver last year” Gareth nodded his head before adding “Not to mention she broke the star runningback’s nose because he tried to touch her ass-mind you the guy was like six four and she just went for it”

Eddie nodded his head, but unlike his two friends, he had a large dopey smile on his face while he thought about it, leading to Mike furrowing his brows and staring at him “why do you look like you’re in love with her?” Gareth laughed “because he is, he’s been into her for years-completely refuses to make a move!” Eddie scoffed “ignore the drummer, Curly and I are just friends-totally fine with being just friends. Besides she’s not the relationship type”

Jeff raised a brow “are you saying that as an excuse to not make a move?” he scoffed “No! Have you ever seen her in a relationship? The only guy who’s ever gotten a date with her was Harrington-and even she let him down!” Dustin and Mike glanced at one another before they both made the realization. “Wait Y/n that works at the Family Video?!” the three older guys nodded at Dustin.

“Wait so Robin was serious about her being scary sometimes? She’s only ever been really nice to me” Eddie laughed “because she’s not an asshole-tell you what Henderson, I’ll talk to her about her sister and see where her heads at” Dustin’s eyes widened, brows raising as he shook his head “no-no don’t do that-cause then she’s gonna figure out I told you-and she knows who I am-what if she doesn’t like me? No-that’s completely gonna ruin my chances!”

However before the conversation could continue Gareth quickly shushed Dustin, then turned his gaze to Mia who was now standing on the opposite end of the lunch table, a textbook in one of her hands and the other held a can of soda as she stared directly at Eddie and cleared her throat.

“Munson, are you into my sister?” he scoffed “wha? Me? No-nope-never she’s just a friend” Mia blinked a few times “you’re lying this morning you two were awfully close, don’t make me steal your car battery, empty your oil, and steal your spark plugs” his jaw slightly dropped “how the hell do you know how to do any of that” she shrugged “your girlfriend is how, so it’s true that you’re in love with her?”

Gareth and Jeff tried to hold in their laugh-but they did a terrible job at it and the second she looked at them the two of them nodded their heads rapidly. “Case and point. Now here’s the deal Munson, you’re gonna ask her on a date and make her feel special and sweet because she’s been through a lot lately and you’re the only person that makes her all smiley and giggly. If you don’t ask her out soon I’m popping your tires”

His jaw dropped, face now tinted a bright red as he stared at the fifteen year old girl across from him, he couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed or intimidated-or embarrassed that a fifteen year old wearing a madonna t-shirt was intimidating him. “You’re way too much like your sister, especially when you make demands” she raised a brow “She raised me you dufus, now do we have a deal or not?” he knit his brows together “how is that a deal?”

“You get to date my sister-which we all know you’re dying to do, in return I don’t pop your tires, I thought it was pretty simple. But honestly I think this is the only way to actually get you to act on your feelings” Dustin stared at Mia mesmerized, his lips slightly pouted and brows slightly raised as he watched the entire interaction. Meanwhile Mike was glancing between everyone as if he was on the sidelines of a sports game, Jeff and Gareth were both snickering at Eddie’s embarrassment, and Eddie was staring in shock.

“Uh? I- she’s not even into me like that” she rolled her eyes “yes she is, she had the biggest crush on you her sophomore year and never shut up about you. I guarantee it’s still there underneath her layers of bitchiness.” he blinked a few times “wait are you serious-” she cut him off “you’ll do it! Great!-” then she glanced at Dustin, a small smile on her face “Hi Dustin, see you next period” with that she left, leaving both Eddie and Dustin dumbfounded as they processed what just happened.

In true Eddie Munson fashion he decided to skip the rest of the day, instead opting to drive home before this evening’s Hellfire session and grab a few things-he also hopped into the shower because for some reason in his head he needed to shower before walking next door and talking to the girl of his dreams. However, when he’d barely finished pulling on his jeans he heard someone knocking on his door-leading to him answering it while drying his wet hair with a towel and being completely shirtless.

“Uh-Hi Eddie” his eyes widened as he registered that it was her, stepping to the side slightly “Hey-uh hi-come in Curly” she nodded her head, walking past him-trying to ignore the way he smelled like green apples, not to mention his lack of shirt-her gaze slipping to his somewhat toned chest-then she easily snapped out of it as she made her way to his room. She knew the layout of his trailer like the back of her hand, not much had changed in terms of the living room decor. Wayne’s hats and mug collections only increased over the years, and while it wasn’t one hundred percent clean, it was pretty tidy given the fact that it was Eddie and his uncle.

He watched from the doorway as she grabbed a few stray clothing items from the floor and his bed, tossing them into his closet. “Can I ask why you’re cleaning my shit up?” she shrugged “I clean when I’m stressed-besides you’re the one with shit everywhere” she raised a brow as she glanced at him. He slowly nodded, watching as she got to his bed, grabbing his large comforter and shaking it off-then she laid it across the sheet clad mattress and situated herself on top of it, grabbing one of his pillows and holding it over her lap.

“Are you gonna finish getting dressed?” he blinked a few times, nodding his head as he grabbed a Motley Crue shirt, throwing it on then he tossed the wet towel over the door-hanging it to dry. In the process she’d gotten off his bed, now standing in front of his rickety bookshelf, manicured fingers tracing along the spines of his books, things ranging from Tolkien to Dungeons and Dragons Dungeon Master’s Guides to Stephen King to Alexander Dumas.

“Do you ever feel like your life is just constantly falling apart?” her voice caught him off guard, he’d been sitting in his bed-gaze held on her while he watched her delicately admire his things. She pulled out a copy of The Hobbit-gently opening the worn book-tracing her fingers along the pages as she spoke “Like it’s like one second things are going really, really good, and the next everything is just falling to shit”

He nodded his head “I think that’s part of life-y’know you have to go through the good to get to the bad, it’s like the scales don’t ever really balance out” she let out a choked laugh, it was at this point he realized she was crying-and that’s probably why she kept her gaze on the book in front of her-rather than him.

Even as kids she never cried in front of him, only when she’d broken her arm and was in too much pain to stop the tears. He immediately jumped up from his bed, and as he stood behind her he was slightly nervous-but he went for it, grasping her arm gently-spinning her around and carefully prying the book from her hold-tossing it onto his messy dresser before pulling her into a hug.

He wrapped his arms around her, rubbing soft circles into her back as she gripped the sides of his shirt-her soft sniffles were the only sound heard for a few minutes as he gently swayed, doing his best to comfort her. “I’m getting your shirt all dirty” he laughed “doesn’t matter to me sweetheart” she sniffled again, feeling the damp spot formed on his chest from her tears against her cheek.

“You don’t always have to be the strong one y’know, it’s okay to cry every now and then” she laughed slightly, pulling away from him as she wiped her tears with the backs of her thumbs “it’s not that easy Eddie” he raised a brow, grasping her hand and pulling her towards his bed-then he sat down first, motioning for her to join him.

She giggled slightly, rolling her teary eyes as she sat back in his bed, however he pulled her closer to him, opting to pull her between his legs, wrapping his arms around her waist as she leaned into his chest. The two hadn’t sat together like this since her sophomore year, but it still felt the same-as if nothing had changed.

One of his hands gently rested against her exposed thigh, tracing small circles into her skin “it’s like if I’m not there for them-then no one is. And I know it’s stupid to want to take care of my mom when she’s barely fifteen years older than me but it’s like what am I supposed to do? She just constantly brings home pieces of shit and she lets them treat her like shit. Then Mia-God I had to raise Mia, when my dad died I was only five, and that was the year we moved here, she was a baby and I had to figure out how to change diapers, make bottles, and keep us fed because otherwise what the hell were we supposed to do?”

She sniffed as she spoke, wiping her tears away occasionally. “But now it’s like Mia’s fifteen, and I love her to pieces but I just don’t want her to end up with guys like the ones my mom ends up with-she needs a kid like Henderson or something, someone who’s sweet and kind and a nerd, and just genuinely cares about her for her.” Eddie laughed at that, a small smile on his face. “Y’know Henderson has a crush on her? Talked about it today” she smiled.

“Good. Because the assholes she lets drive her home? She just craves male validation because she’s never had it-but refuses to admit that. She’s gonna end up doing the same stupid shit I did and losing her virginity to some asshole who’s gonna treat her like shit” he tensed up slightly, however he had to remind himself that it was all a thing of the past-he couldn’t change the past.

“And now it’s like, I work to help pay bills, to help do everything that I shouldn’t have to fucking do! I was working at Benny’s for like three years before he passed, I didn’t even get to have the shitty teenage experience because I was too worried about our rent, or our electricity, or the water, and all the shit that teenagers shouldn’t have to fucking care about” he shifted one of his hands, moving it from her waist to her hand, intertwining their fingers and giving her hand a small squeeze as she spoke. He knew she just needed someone to listen, and that’s exactly what he was doing.

“It’s just so fucking unfair. I’m barely gonna be twenty and here I am, taking care of my thirty five year old mother and my fifteen year old sister-constantly having to wonder about their well being because of the assholes ma brings around, and worrying about how Mia’s doing in school-I could’ve gone to fucking college. I graduated in the top ten of my class, but instead I’m stuck in Hawkins and everytime something feels like it’s going well-everything has to fall apart. Like today-jesus christ I had a whole meltdown after I dropped Mia off because that shit’s traumatic-and I can’t even fully acknowledge that it’s traumatic because it feels so normal”

She paused for a second, shaking her head, gaze held on the ceiling as tears welled in her eyes. “I learned how to fight because I was bullied-and now I'm fighting forty year old men? On what feels like a fucking weekly basis. And like you said-who’s gonna protect me? Who’s gonna take care of me? I’ve been taking care of everyone else my entire life and never for a second has anyone really truly taken care of me-and I won’t even let them if they try because I’m so scared they’re gonna leave or end up like one of my mom’s boyfriends, or just treat me like shit-or what if I get too attached to them”

“I probably sound so pathetic right now” he shook his head, leaning his chin against her shoulder “no you sound like someone who’s been through a lot and hasn’t had time to actually think about it. You just bottle shit up-always have” she scoffed “says who?” He raised a brow, placing a gentle kiss against her cheek-he didn’t even know what motivated him to do so but he did anyway.

“Says me-you’ve been doing it since we were kids. You didn’t even tell me your dad died until you were eight because you refused to acknowledge it, then you ran back home and didn’t come outside for a week.” she rolled her eyes “that’s different!” he shook his head “mmm no it’s not, you don’t like to think about the bad shit that happens to you so you occupy yourself until you have no choice but to address things because something makes it all spill out-this morning is a prime example of that”

She blinked a few times “when did you become mister psychologist” he shrugged “dunno, life experience helps you figure shit out” she now shifted, turning around to face him, her legs crossed as she sat between his, before she could say anything he wiped her tears away gently with his thumbs “stop being so soft Munson, it takes away from the rockstar thing” he rolled his eyes “I can still be a rockstar and be soft with the girl I’ve known my entire life”

“Uh huh, sure you can.” he raised a brow “are you deflecting? You are! Keep talking princess, y’know you have a lot to get off your chest” she scoffed “no I don’t” he raised a brow “you found out your mother was in a shitty relationship and literally kicked her boyfriends ass this morning, and based on what you just said-this isn’t the first time something like that has happened with her”

“You’re good at reading people and I hate you for it” he smiled at her joke, nodding his head “I’m here for you, all ears, ready to listen and follow you to the ends of the earth.” she raised a brow “even into Mordor?” his eyes widened “wait! You read it?!” she cracked a smile, rolling her eyes “maybe” he nodded his head “yeah I’d follow you into Mordor”

“There’s one other thing that’s been bothering me since this morning-and it’s gonna sound stupid-so don’t laugh at it. We can unpack my mommy issues on a different day-trust me that’s gonna take hours and I’d rather not focus on that” he slowly nodded his head “so what’s the other pressing matter?”

“Y’know how I said, I've never gotten to like have that teenage experience?” he hummed in acknowledgement “this morning Mia was talking to me about someone, anyways he’s not important-but it had me thinking that I’ve never even been on a real date, and like yeah I’ve had sex-I mean it was probably because I needed validation and felt like shit at the time-but it’s also like I wouldn’t even give anyone the time of day. I didn’t even make it to the actual date with Steve-but thank God I didn't. He was so in love with Nancy it wasn’t even funny-but like is there something wrong with me?”

He had to hold in his laugh, an upside down smile on his face as he tried to hold it back “you’re gonna laugh! You said you wouldn’t!” he shook his head, letting the laugh slip out “it’s just that I never really thought you’d be into that stuff” she rolled her eyes “what girl doesn’t want to be whisked away by her prince charming? Just because I’m a bitch doesn’t mean I don’t want to be loved you ass!” she leaned forward, shoving him slightly.

He raised his brows “who would’ve thought, mean ol Curly who’s smashed more windshields in her life than I can imagine wants to be wined and dined” she scoffed “shut up!” he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows up and down “oh c’mon you know it’s true! Miss ' I reject every guy who’s ever tried’ wants to find her prince charming!” she grabbed his pillow and didn’t hesitate to smack him with it.

“Seriously? A pillow fight? Are you ten?” she scoffed, squinting her eyes slightly, now standing on her knees as she tried to take the pillow back from him “maybe I am! Let me live you ass! Give it back” he tugged it a little too hard and it sent her falling into him, Eddie landing flat on his back while Y/n landed on top of the pillow-above his chest.

It was silent for a few seconds before the room erupted with laughter, however when she tried to get up and grab the pillow from him he easily tugged it from under her-however that lead to her letting out a small ‘yelp’ as her shirt was slightly rolled up and she fell into his chest, mumbling “you moron” but then she looked up at him, placing her palms on his chest, then resting her chin atop them. “Thank you Eddie” he looked down at her-the angle definitely awkward but worth it because she looked beautiful “for what?” she smiled “for listening”

“I’ll always be here to listen” she smiled, then she moved, now sitting up while he still laid in place-gaze on the ceiling, a dopey smile on his face.

“Can I borrow your copy of the Hobbit?” he sat up, now staring at her with a singular brow raised-giving himself a mental pep talk “only if you let me take you on a date” her brows knit together, lips slightly parted as she stared at him, unsure what to say “hear me out Curly, you’ve never gotten that first date, and I think I know you pretty well-so instead of sitting on top of your place and star gazing-let me take you on a date”

“Why?” he shrugged “because you deserve it” she smiled at that, looking down at her hands as she fidgeted with the singular gold ring she wore all the time-it was her father’s. “So do we have a deal?” she bit her bottom lip, a small laugh leaving her lips before she glanced at him again “yeah, we have a deal” he nodded “tonight or tomorrow at seven?” “Are you picking me up?” he laughed “course, my chariot awaits” then she raised a brow “don’t you have Hellfire tonight?”

“Aw Curly, you remembered?” she rolled her eyes “it’s almost like you’ve been talking about Hellfire nonstop for the past five years-course I remembered. Just because we don’t talk all the time doesn’t mean I just randomly up and forgot you dweeb”

She laughed again as she stood up from his bed, walking over and grabbing the book before she spotted something from the corner of her eye-he stared at her confused as she squatted down-then she grabbed the black magazine, her eyes widening at the Heavy Metal magazine-specifically the cover art. Then she flipped through the pages.

“Holy shit-” his eyes widened as he realized what she was looking at, meanwhile she was turning the magazine slightly, angling her head to get a better look at the image “so you’re into like sci fi porn? What the fuck is that?” she squinted slightly “Oh she’s like a cyborg? Wait is she getting fucked-oh no nevermind I don’t think that’s that-” she tilted the magazine again “actually wait is she getting fucked? I can’t tell if that’s a robo dick” he was stunned-he expected her to judge him, instead she was flipping through the pages and examining the artwork.

It’s safe to say he was falling even deeper into his ‘I’m in love with Y/n Y/l/n’ hole.

“Aren’t you like weirded out?” she shrugged then shook her head-still looking at the magazine, now holding it at a ninety degree angle as she examined a long image that looked like a raunchy star wars knock off. “No, you’re a guy-figured, you'd have something to y’know help with the job, plus the artistry is actually kinda interesting-and I’m gonna wash my hands anyway” Then she turned the page “oh wait! It has like stories! i thought it was just porn honestly-this makes more sense it’s like sci fi and fantasy but with tits?”

He nodded his head slowly “so do you have more of these? Or is this the fan favorite?” he rolled his eyes “are you really asking me about my spank bank?” she giggled, and he was trying to ignore the way he was blushing while she glanced back towards where she found it-spotting another one but deciding to leave it be. Then she shut the magazine and placed it on his dresser, she acted nonchalant but in all reality her mind was racing and for the first time in forever she thought of Eddie in that way. “So tomorrow? Seven” he nodded his head, watching as she grabbed the book once again.

“It’s a date Sweetheart” she rolled her eyes at the pet name-but her smile was still evident and as she turned to leave he wanted to stop her but he didn’t want to overstep. So he just let her go, but little did he know her smile had widened the second she opened the door and walked outside, a skip in her step as she made her way back to her place-holding the book closely to her chest.

She’d never felt this way before, maybe it was because her crush on Eddie had never really gone away-she just didn’t think about it because it wasn’t a pressing matter. Hell she’d never really thought of herself over the past few years, making sacrifices for her family at her own expense. She didn’t want to regret anything, and based on Eddie’s subtle input-she shouldn’t regret it, rather she needed to learn how to let people in and to talk about her feelings.

Maybe he’d be the one to help her with that. She hoped he would be.

For the rest of the day she had a wide smile on her face, as she folded and sorted the clothes, vacuumed the floors, swept up any broken glass,took the trash out, washed the dishes, and made dinner for herself while putting everything else away in the fridge sorted into two foil wrapped plates-she had the same smile on her face. Even as she showered she was giddy, singing a tune the entire time.

She’d even opted to listen to Dolly Parton’s Jolene album-granted she’d never been big on country music but she had a soft spot for the Blonde.

What she didn’t know was that as she cleaned her and her sister’s shared room and made both beds over again with the music playing loudly through her stereo, her singing was even louder-and as Eddie parked the van after coming home from Hellfire he could hear her singing ‘Randy’-only knowing the song because she used to hum it often. He liked to imagine that she thought of him when she sang the song.

In truth, her mind did drift to him and she simply smiled and rolled her eyes while tossing the pillows back onto the beds on opposite sides of the room. She’d been so caught up in singing ‘Jolene’ that she hadn’t heard the front door open-nor did she notice her sister standing in the doorway with a wide smile on her face as she watched Y/n sing and sway her hips and for the first time in a long time-she looked happy.

“Someones in a good mood” she screamed as she turned around, instinctively throwing the book in her hand at her sister-who easily dodged it. “Don’t scare me like that!” Mia laughed, nodding her head as she walked in and turned the music down “Dolly? You haven’t listened to Dolly in forever-oh my god” her eyes widened and she jumped in excitement “did he ask you?!” she blinked a few times, taking a step back from her younger sister.

“Did who ask me?” Mia smiled “Munson! Did he finally grow a pair and ask you out!” she scoffed “did you really put him up to this?” it was evident how easily her mood changed, of course he only did it because her sister put him up to it. “Woah! Woah relax! I just told him to go for it because he’s clearly into you!” she scoffed, rolling her eyes, then she shoved past Mia, the usual attitude and anger surfacing again as she took off her slippers, opting to slide into her vans again then rush out of their home and towards the Munson residence.

She banged her fist against the front door several times, and as Eddie answered it he could practically see the heat leaving her ears-and he knew the fact that Chrissy Cunningham was over because she’d been buying weed from him for the past few months would be an issue. But Y/n didn’t know that the blonde was just another one of his customers-so the second she noticed the blonde she scoffed.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You fucking asshole!” his eyes widened as he tried to calm her down “woah! Woah-relax sweetheart-Jesus Christ come inside before someone thinks you’re gonna kick my ass next” she scoffed as he grasped her hand and pulled her inside, then he shut the door behind her. He took a second to give her a once over, noticing the baggy Up In Smoke t-shirt she wore alongside either no pants or the shortest shorts in existence-most likely the latter.

“Uh Curly this is Chrissy-Chrissy this is Curly-” she scoffed “It’s Y/n.” Chrissy nodded her head, a sweet smile on her face “yeah, I know who you are! You totally kicked Derek’s ass last year-he so deserved that, you’re kind of a Hawkins legend” she blinked a few times, and she knew that the girl was being genuine, which only made it harder for her to be upset. She honestly wanted to cry, a smidge of heartbreak sneaking through her.

“Oh uh-thanks?” Chrissy laughed, the same smile on her face “of course! I didn’t know you and Eddie were together? You must be the girl he’s been telling me about for months!” she glanced at Eddie who’s eyes were wide and the familiar red flush overtook his features “we’re not-we’re not together” he mumbled it as he ran a hand over his face and she looked surprised “oh! Shit my bad! Uhm don’t worry Eddie’s said a lot of good stuff about you!”

“We’re not-me and him aren’t doing anything if that’s what you thought! He’s just my dealer! We’re friends! Promise! I have a boyfriend too” she slowly nodded her head at Chrissy’s panicked demeanor. Eddie groaned, quickly rushing over to the kitchen counter where he had Chrissy’s weed ready then he handed it to her, taking the twenty dollar bill from her hand.

“I’m gonna go, uh it was nice meeting you Y/n! Once again-totally not doing anything with him-he talks about you all the time! We’re uh friends-platonic friends!” she slowly nodded, watching as Chrissy rushed past her then she went outside, the sound of a car starting signaled that the blonde was leaving.

“Can you please explain to me why you rushed over here ready to go to war?!” she scoffed “did you only ask me out because my sister told you to” he looked taken aback as he rapidly shook his head “no-I mean she gave me the push I needed but no-I’ve been into you forever you’re just-you’re you and you’re amazing”

She rolled her eyes “you’re full of shit Munson” he craned his neck slightly “are you kidding me! This is the shit we talked about earlier! You always put up walls and you bottle everything up because you’re so afraid of letting someone in! I could sit here and tell you that I’m in love with you and you’d tell me to fuck off!”

She shrugged “because you’re a fucking liar” he shook his head “I’m not a liar, you’re just too afraid of your own feelings to have any ounce of trust in anyone else!” she scoffed, stepping towards him, a cynical smile on her face as she stared at him “yeah I’m just supposed to wanna jump into your fucking arms and trust every single word you’ve said to me right? As if you didn’t have Chrissy Cunningham in here less than five minutes ago!”

“Because I’m a dealer, you know this, everyone knows this! People want weed, I sell them weed! It’s simple” she scoffed, nodding her head, running her tongue along her top row of teeth “yeah so fuckin simple huh? I’m just supposed to believe that pretty girls from rich families like Chrissy Cunningham smoke weed? Yeah-great fucking story there.” he shook his head, letting out a deep breath.

“Y/n it’s 1986-everyone smokes weed! It’s weed!” she rolled her eyes again “you’re so full of shit Munson. You just fucking play the part so fucking well huh?” he raised a brow “what fucking part?!” she shook her head, feeling her eyes water “fuck you” he stared at her, noticing the way her eyes glossed over as she stared at him “you think you’re so unloveable and you push everyone away because you’re scared of getting hurt. You hate the idea of people hurting you so you don’t let them even like you.”

As he spoke she stared at him, ignoring the singular tear that slid down her face “You’ve been taking care of everyone else for years and haven’t given a shit about yourself. You’re so used to neglecting yourself that you don’t even see it when people want to be there for you, and when people wanna take care of you!” she rolled her eyes “yeah cause you clearly wanna take care of me huh?” her sardonic tone had him clenching his jaw.

Eddie Munson rarely got angry, sure he had a lot of reasons to be angry in life, ranging from his absent parents, the Munson family name, being labeled as a freak, being looked down upon, to being considered ‘trailer trash’ since the ripe age of ten. But he didn’t care, he hated being angry, he’d promised himself that he’d let the anger go after his dad stopped calling, after he’d been left in the dust and picked up by Wayne.

For the first time in a long time, he was getting angry. She was pissing him off because she couldn’t see herself the way he saw her-because she was so insecure without even realizing it that she couldn’t accept that Chrissy Cunningham was just a friend and a customer.

“Is it so wrong to say I do? That I do wanna take care of you-that I’ve wanted to take care of you for years! That maybe every now and then I wanna give you a hug without you fighting it-or that I wanna hold your hand and take you on long drives, or just be there for you on a regular basis and not whenever your facade falls apart and crashes to shit!”

She took a step back, he’d never yelled at her before-to be fair he wasn’t even yelling his voice was slightly louder than usual but it still felt different. She hadn’t been spoken to like this in years, sure she had people yell at her-but they weren’t people who mattered. Eddie shattered her entire reserve, her tears now slipping down her cheeks faster-but she tried to hold her composure-still staring at him.

“Jesus Y/n I’m sorry-I didn’t mean to get loud but you just-you’re so frustrating.” she shook her head, tears still flowing “yeah? Guess I am huh?” she was shutting him out, and it was as if he could see her walls building back up. “Curly, I care about you in a way i’ve never cared about anyone else-I want you to be happy, I want to make you happy, I want you to see yourself the way I see you because you’re so fucking beautiful inside and out but you refuse to see yourself that way”

She shook her head “because all I’m ever gonna be is trailer park pretty. I’m gonna end up like my mom with shitty boyfriends back to back to back, living in a run down trailer park having men offer me stupid shitty things just for a chance to sleep with me. You said life gets better for people like me-but it doesn’t. I’m stuck-and if I drag anyone else down with me-I just-I dunno” she sniffled as she spoke, and it took everything in him to not start crying.

He took a few steps forward, then placed a gentle hand along her cheek “none of that is true Curly. None of it-not for a single second” the two held eye contact for a few seconds before he leaned in and connected their lips. The kiss was so soft as he poured his heart into it, he wanted her to know he cared and that he was in it for the long run-as friends or as more.

It wasn’t long before she was kissing him back, one hand gripping the edge of his denim vest, the other on his jaw, pulling him closer as their lips melted together, perfectly molding against one another, then she slid her tongue along his bottom lip and he was spreading them. Her tongue swiping against his as she kissed him, the motion made him groan, but he kept up with her-taking control of the kiss as he sucked on her tongue-then slid his against hers.

Once they pulled apart for air he slid his thumbs along her cheeks-wiping away her tears. “You’re worth so much more than you think” his words were so loving and tender-she didn’t even know how to react. No one had ever spoken to her like that, sure she had her few friends but this was different.

“For the last time, I didn’t ask you out because your sister put me up to it, I asked you out because you deserve to be wined and dined and taken care of. You deserve to be loved” she nodded her head, sniffling again “I’m sorry” he shushed her “don’t apologize to me, I know how it is, I know that it’s gonna take time for you to see yourself the way I see you”

“But what if that doesn’t happen Eddie?” he laughed, rolling his eyes while placing a kiss on her temple “it will, i’m gonna make sure of it-if it’s the last thing I do, now do you wanna stay the night here? Or you wanna go back home?” she raised a brow “are you trying to get into my pants?” he laughed at that, shaking his head.

“No but I think you’d benefit from being held a little longer” she rolled her eyes “are you saying I’m touch starved?” he nodded his head “yeah basically” she scoffed, shoving him back, but instead of making a beeline to her door, she went to his room and flipped him off in the process. Once she was inside she kicked off her shoes, tucking her socks into them as well before going through the things on his dresser-looking for a hair tie.

“Top drawer princess” she rolled her eyes at the pet name, opening the drawer and spotting the practically unused pack of hair ties, then she spotted something else, the light reflecting off of the shiny paper. She grabbed it, her jaw dropping as she stared at the most explicit magazine she’d ever seen-immediately screaming and shoving it back in the dresser. His eyes widened as he noticed what she grabbed-then he had to hold back a laugh as she slammed the dresser shut.

“Jesus Christ Munson! Keep your porn in one place!” He shrugged “I told you where the hair ties were-I didn’t tell you to snoop. Curiosity killed the cat” she rolled her eyes “but satisfaction brought it back” what she hadn’t realized is that he’d moved from his doorway to behind her, his hands now resting on her hips as he leaned closer to her “are you satisfied?” his voice was lower than usual but then he cracked the act and laughed, letting go of her hips.

She shoved him back as she made her way to the bathroom, now taking time to braid her hair. Meanwhile he shrugged off his jacket, then his shirt and his shoes-leaving his jeans unbuttoned because he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable-he’d wait until they were actually going to sleep to take them off.

She hadn’t expected him to follow her in, but he stood behind her, admiring her work through their shared reflection. “How do you do that?” she furrowed her brows, glancing at him “braid my hair?” he nodded his head “I can’t really explain it well, but I dunno, just watch my fingers” he scooted closer to her, now standing slightly to her right as she braided the other half of her hair back, grasping each section by section until she was finished.

“I’m gonna learn how to do that” she raised a brow “really? You wanna braid my hair Munson?” he nodded “I’ll do anything you want me to do sweetheart-but yeah I do” she laughed, rolling her eyes. “It’s harder than it looks y’know” he raised a brow “and you’re softer than you look-your point is?” she scoffed, but didn’t say anything. The sound of knocking caught them both off guard, he left the bathroom to go answer the door.

Mia stood outside, holding a satin scarf in her hand. Her eyes practically popped out of her head at the sight of Eddie “jesus christ you two hornballs! Here this is for her hair-figure: she wasn’t coming home tonight. I didn’t think she’d already jumped your bones” his jaw dropped as he shook his head. “It’s not what it looks like-jesus christ-uh” she shook her head “you don’t have to lie to me Munson, but at least make sure her hair is wrapped.” she shoved the scarf in his direction and as he took it she cleared her throat.

“And uh-can you do me a personal favor?” he raised a brow “I don’t sell weed to freshmen” she scoffed, rolling her eyes “that’s not it, can you ask Henderson what he thinks of me?” he smirked “so baby y/l/n likes Henderson hmm? It’s your lucky day-he’s into you, talks about how pretty you are all the time. Just ask him out, you two nerds can watch star wars together” her jaw dropped “how’d you know!” he raised a brow “your sister talks, and I just happened to listen, now go home-it’s late” she rolled her eyes and turned-walking off. Eddie stood outside, making sure she made it back inside before he closed and locked the door.

He expected her to still be in the bathroom, however she was in his room, flipping through one of his copies of Heavy Metal while she sat in his bed, her legs extended in front of her as she tilted her head slightly, eyes wandering across the page-she was clearly reading something.

“Are you serious right now?” she glanced up at him “shush the interesting parts coming up! I need to see if they fuck it out-this shit’s actually interesting once you get past the alien porn” he blinked a few times “Curly please put that away” she shook her head, gaze still focused on the pages-he watched the way her eyes widened as she flipped the page “Oh my god-Jesus Christ!” she dropped the magazine for a second-and he noticed the exact panel she was on.

“Uh yeah-tentacles are kinda some peoples thing” she slowly nodded “i can tell” she looked slightly disgusted as she picked the magazine back up, grimacing as she read through that page, then she let out a sigh of relief. “You’re seriously gonna keep reading it?”

“Yeah, is that a problem? Did you wanna take it and go jerk off or something? Use the other porn you have stashed everywhere, i’m reading” her sarcastic tone was unmistakable as her gaze didn’t shift from the magazine in front of her.

He raised a brow “really? You’re reading?” she nodded her head, turning the page again-eyes widening at the next graphic scene-more specifically the clear knock off of Princess Leia’s slave outfit falling off of a woman’s body “you would get off to shit like this, you pervy nerd” he bit his bottom lip, slipping into the bed next to her, peaking over at what she was looking at-his cheeks immediately reddened at the sight, and he couldn’t help the way that his cock stirred.

He then blinked a few times, handing her the scarf. “Mia brought it over-she uh thinks we uh y’know” she raised a brow, taking the scarf and handing him the magazine in return. Then she folded it into a triangular shape, angling her head down as she tied it around once-then again atop her head. “Of course she does” he bit his bottom lip, nodding his head. Then she moved, laying down and looking up at him, raising a brow “lay down Munson” he blinked a few times before nodding his head-except he glanced down at his pants.

“You can take them off if that’s how you sleep” she turned away from him, and the sound of shifting alongside his pants hitting the ground made her giggle, then he turned off the light before she felt the bed dip beside her.

He carefully wrapped his arm around her waist, slightly pulling her against him as he spooned her, however she shoved his arm off, turning around again and resting her head against his chest, one of her legs resting against his-her thigh right on his waist and the warmth from her skin made him dizzy. She traced small patterns into his chest with her fingers.

“Thank you” he clicked his tongue “stop thanking me” she glanced up at him, and he met her stare “I can’t help it” he raised a brow “yes you can, stop thanking me for caring about the girl I love” she blinked a few times, somewhat shocked at his confession “you don’t gotta feel the same way-but just know as long as I love you I’m not giving up on you”

“I-I think I love you too” he smiled at that “you think so?” she giggled, rolling her eyes before nodding her head. “Yea I think so you dweeb.”

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson imagine

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captainsimagines · 3 years

Text

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Six

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

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

Part 6 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

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

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

Word Count: 21,400+

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

An Avengers Safehouse, 2023, 10:45 pm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Where’s Steve? Is he okay?’

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

‘He’s… he’s not coming, doll.’

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you avoiding me?”

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

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

You will not cry right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t joke about that-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Business as usual.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll what?”

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

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

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

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

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

You were still speaking.

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

“Don’t start-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You hate me that much-”

“Y/N-”

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

“Please...”

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

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

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

“I think that’s for the best.”

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

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

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

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

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

Present Day, 2025, 7:02am

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

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

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

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

Steve really wasn’t here.

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

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

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

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

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

‘Hey, what’s up?’

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

‘Back up. Explain?’

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

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

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

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

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

‘Did you and Steve actually…?’

“No, no! But we… touched and stuff.”

‘Is this high school? Spit it out.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ugh, don’t scare me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘You didn’t have to.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I need to tell someone.”

“I’m all ears.”

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

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

“And we messed around a little bit.”

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

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

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

“That’s calling it like it is?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Very. We just… touched and stuff.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t deserve it,” Steve mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That didn’t make any-”

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

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

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

God, he really fucked up, didn’t he?

“We got a plan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

“You protect her, alright?”

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

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

“I will.”

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

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

Anyone who thought or assumed otherwise was an idiot.

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

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

“Good to see you again!”

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

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

“You’re weird when you’re nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ew.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve shrugged, “The good ole’ days.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You played dumb. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There are worse ways to go.”

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

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

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

“Is everyone on?”

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, where were you?

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

“Does anyone have eyes on Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, let’s go!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See this as a means to inform you.”

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

“Do we have a deal?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scott’s eyes lit up.

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

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

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

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

For you, stealing Steve’s fries was simple.

Maybe because he didn’t stop you.

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

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

Yes, that would have been great.

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

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

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

“Please… don’t shoot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your men were followed, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Prove it.”

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

Scott nodded, “According to legend-”

Steve blinked at him, “Scott.”

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

Steve squinted, “Saw us where?”

“The phone videos on Youtube.”

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

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

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

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

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

Ramirez chuckled, “Seems not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And fuck, Steve knew the kid was right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, PR didn’t have a nice night.

“What about the videos, Omar?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve chuckled under his breath, “We know.”

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

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

“I mean, half of it is for drugs.”

“Omar,” you demanded.

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

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

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

Steve stuttered, “Drugs and refugees?”

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

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

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

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

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What kind of favor?”

“Protect my daughter.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Promise me.”

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

“We promise.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you getting at?”

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

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

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

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

“We can’t let her know right now.”

Torres held the same expression as Steve.

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

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

Steve hates that his reasoning is valid.

“Can’t tell her what?”

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

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

“Multiple.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But wasn’t that what you all wanted?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because he will tell you. He promises himself that.

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

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

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

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

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

“Steve?”

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

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

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

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

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

“If you say so.”

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

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

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

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

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

It was now or never.

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

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

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

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

“You don’t?”

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

“No, I just-”

“Do you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve hesitated, “Do you want to fight?”

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

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

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

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

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

“When I apologized, I hardly meant it.”

You nodded sarcastically, “Good start, Steve.”

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

“I wasn’t the only volunteer-”

“You were the first.”

“So you’re interrupting me, now?”

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

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

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

“Tired of me?”

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

“Steve…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How can you say that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

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

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

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

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

“What are you thinking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I only want you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And righteous.”

“Downright patriotic.”

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

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

“Pretty brave of you to admit that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You gonna let me?”

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

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

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

“Safe word?”

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

“Safe. Word.”

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

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

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

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

“Where do you want me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve short-circuited.

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After another couple minutes, you both decided it was time to clean up. He resisted the urge to laugh when you stood up, legs wobbly and chest still trying to catch full breaths. You looked drunk, eyes glossy and hair disorderly. The look suited you, really.

You thought the same about him.

Steve swore he was about to crumble when you both returned from the bathroom and you headed for your own bed. It was a betrayal for only a millisecond before you commented on how you were not sleeping in soiled sheets and that he could ‘obviously’ join you in your bed tonight. You kept talking, telling him how you weren’t necessarily a cuddler but you would sacrifice one night for him. But ‘do not be alarmed when you find me on the other side of the bed in the morning!’, and the good ache in his chest swelled once again.

Once, in 1935, when Steve was seventeen and too weak to breathe in a lick of clean air, the pneumonia eating away at his lungs and taunting his mother, who was rotating between cold and hot rags; that 1935 sickness was one of the few times he was hopeless. Sure, he pulled through because he’s Steve Rogers. But not being able to breathe really scares a person, and so he didn’t feel hopeless - he was hopeless. His own body betrayed him and made his mother, who nursed him while Bucky worked extra shifts at the dock to help her with groceries, cry like a blubbering newborn - well, Steve was forced to put his faith in God. It’s what his mother would have wanted him to do.

And when he couldn’t reach far enough to grasp Bucky’s trembling hand, when he watched him fall into that icy ravine to his supposed death in 1944, he was hopeless. Completely obliterated from the bottom of his heart, up.

In 2018, when he lost the ultimate battle and saw half the world disintegrate, and the itchiness spread itself far and wide to all the crevices in his crumbling soul, pouring into crack after crack after crack - there was no need to even label himself hopeless anymore. He hadn’t had hope in anything after he caused the destruction of one of his only true 21st century friendships; not since he dropped that shield at the feet of one friend while he walked away with another. There was no hopelessness - simply less.

But now, with you in his arms and treading lightly along his second chance, his heart was bursting with the possibility of relearning the definition of hope, craving to feel human again - to feel like Steve Rogers again. Sure, he may still believe his glass is half empty instead of half full, and he was pushing the ideals of that shield far too much down the line, but Steve swore the awe in your eyes was the hope he had lost.

He couldn’t believe you were the host of it all along.

So he settled in his new home, in his new hope, praying God would let him have it, and closed his eyes. This Steve, who was asleep for over seventy years and was robbed of the life he was supposed to live. This Steve, who wished he could erase all the lost time filled with stupid tantrums and half-assed apologies and pretend it never happened. No lies about ‘maybe it helped you two grow!’ He had poisoned his happiness years ago and god forbid he would let himself do it again.

This Steve, who only wanted to protect and be protected. Steve, with all his heart, his mind, and his soul, burning brilliant.

A/N: man i know this is long but i literally write the chapters in sections and i don’t realize until I paste them together omgggg xxMoni

Taglist: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress

#steve rogers x reader #reader x steve rogers #reader insert #marvel fanfiction #captain america x reader #to topple #a giant #by Moni #captainsimagines #Part Six #Chapter six #avengers x reader #mob fanfic #enemies to lovers #friends to enemies to lovers #Smut #steve rogers smut #LOVE THE ANGST #love the smut

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4aloysius-porteu · 3 years

Text

i am your ally || tsukishima kei.

pairing; tsukishima kei x f! reader

genre: oneshot, drama, flangst, a little comedy

word count: 5.6k

details: 3rd year Tsukishima, artist reader

warnings: reader going missing, verbal abuse, crushing of dreams, lots of sadness, heavy parental argument, everything that happens here hits home

synopsis: tsukishima didnt know what is the right thing to say after he heard of (y/n)’s situation, but the words that stumbled out from his mouth were a surprise, yet it blossomed to a meaningful talk that happens once in a blue moon.

(a/n): wrote in the middle of my depressing days to find a little comfort from this character that I love with all my heart. inspired by true situations irl; if you, my friend, is feeling down today, i hope reading this work of mine can help. i might make this into a full story if this got enough attention tho.

(Y/N) was nowhere to be found.

It wasn't Tsukishima's habit to eavesdrop on other people's conversation, but he couldn't help but listen when he heard her name from her classmates. She was a consistent top student that will never neglect her studies, so it was unusual to know that she was absent today. He thought that maybe she got sick or she decided to go crazy and skip school. If it was the latter, he hoped that she knows what she's doing, because midterms are coming in 3 days, and he's not going to listen to her whines and begs to help her study for the tests.

And now he just happened to overhear that she was missing.

He saw her parents walk out of the campus after talking to the vice-principal and to the teachers. Gossip filled the corridors and rooms. Tsukishima went back to his room, clearly annoyed with the unnecessary noise.

He listened to the lectures of each subject and continued to write down important points, but the thought of (Y/N) lingered in his head. What could've happened that led to her disappearance? Was she kidnapped? No, he just walked her home last night and she'll never leave her place past midnight. Kidnappers won't dare to make a move in daylight because of the town's high authority visibility. There's no way she'll be lost in an area she's very familiar with.

She ran away from home. That is the only logical possibility he could come up with, but he couldn't think of an idea as to why. (Y/N), who loves to be cooped up in her room with music blaring in her earphones while drawing, left her home without a trace. Tsukishima was a little worried, but he won't let his face show whatever the hell he's feeling.

His plays and blocks aren't exactly bad, but Yamaguchi could sense that Tsukishima was thinking of something other than the volleyball practice. He approached his friend who was resting on the floor, his long arms covering his curled up legs.

"Tsukki, what's with that expression? Did you get a failing score in a quiz?" Yamaguchi started, in an attempt to lighten up the atmosphere.

The blonde's eyes darted to him, "Like hell, I'm going to let that happen. What do you want?"

He shrugged, "Nothing, I just noticed that you were a little quieter and more passive today. Normally, you would've chewed the first years out with their simple blocking errors, but you didn't say a thing. You're scarier in their eyes when you're silent."

"I was tired. I'll only waste my voice pointing out something I did a million times." A sigh escaped his lips

"Right..." Yamaguchi paused, "So, I assume you have heard?"

"Heard of what?"

"That (Y/N) is missing."

"Oh," A frown fell on his features. It wasn't his usual frown. People who really know him would notice that his eyes are full of worry.

He sat beside Tsukishima before he spoke again. "I know you have ideas on places (Y/N) could've gone to."

"I do not know what you're talking about."

The latter chuckled, "Oh, humor me, Tsukki. If you're that worried, I can excuse you for today's practice. No problem."

"Does that mean that you aren't concerned?"

"I am concerned. I want to look for her as well, but I have to whip the other players into shape. I'm sorry if I couldn't accompany you right away."

Tsukishima stood up and sighed again, "You will excuse me, you said?"

"Yeah."

There were silence and the background noise of balls and shoes colliding on the floor. He wiped the sweat off his face before replying, "I'll be leaving the gym in a few minutes."

He changed his clothes and packed his things up, causing the team to exchange glances.

"Tsukki!" Yamaguchi called, throwing his friend's large jacket to him, which the other caught. "Take care! I hope you find (Y/N) and get her home safe."

"I wish. Then, I'll leave it to you, Captain."

The green-haired middle blocker's eyes teared up and sparkled as he beamed a smile back, "I got it!"

Tsukishima started to look for (Y/N) at the places she liked to go to; the art store, the Central Park, the kid's playground, the museum, and the prefectural library. But there was no sign of her anywhere. He looked at the nearby places to no avail. He walked on while dialing her number, but her phone is out of coverage area. He spent 3 more hours finding the girl and soon received a message from Yamaguchi, telling him that (Y/N) hasn't been found yet and that he joined the authorities to help them find her.

He walked back to the direction of his home, panting softly. He had failed to find (Y/N), yet his brain won't stop thinking about her possible whereabouts. The cool breeze of winter hit Tsukishima's face and shivered at the contact. He had hoped again that she is inside of an establishment, safe from such cold weather.

Tsukishima's home has its lights out. Her mother was invited into her colleagues' reunion as said in her text, and both his father and brother are busy at work. He reached for his key in his pocket and was opening the door, not until he heard a loud sob from somewhere. Tsukishima looked around the place as the sobbing continued. He searched for the source and ended up in their backyard. He caught the sight of a small figure behind the bushes and went closer to confirm.

It was a cat. It had scurried away once he got close to it. Oh, how stupid he is to get his hopes up only to find a scared animal. But he was certain he heard a sob somewhere near. And cats aren't capable of making a sound like that. Or maybe he was only hearing things?

He dragged his feet to the main door to unlock it, but this time, there was a loud noise of scrubbing on the roof. What is it this time? He moved back and looked upon where it came from.

To his surprise, it wasn't another cat but a person. Their legs were curled up, arms covered around them, with their chin on their knees. Tsukishima turned on his phone's flashlight and there she was.

It was (Y/N). Her shoulders shook, either from the cold or trying her best not to cry out loud.

"H-Help me."

He stared at the girl, confused and fighting back laughter because of how scared (Y/N) looked. "How the heck did you get in there?"

"I climbed that tree and jumped off to break in and hide in your room. Turned out that the windows are locked. I don't know how to jump back and I-I was too high from the ground. You know I'm scared of heights! Why did you lock the window?! Stupid!"

"Of course, I would lock the window for the security. And wow, aren't you the stupid one for knowing how to climb and jump up to my window and not knowing how to get down? Why did you climb if you are scared of heights? Such an idiot."

"Fine, fine. I am an idiot. Now, can you help me get off this roof?"

He crossed his arms and smirked, "No."

"Ugh! Please, Kei. I've been trapped here for hours. I am begging you to help me get down. Please?"

He sighed in defeat and raised his arms. "Here. Jump."

For seconds, (Y/N) didn't respond as she was having second thoughts about jumping.

"What? Do you expect me to get a ladder? I'm sorry, but it's in the basement, broken." He said in a mocking tone. "Don't you want to come down?"

"Can you catch me properly? Are your arms stable? Won't you fall on your ass?" (Y/N) interrogated.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, "Alright, stay there and freeze to death."

"No, wait! I was just asking! Come back! Don't leave meeee!"

The blonde looked up to her and raised his arms again, "Don't think. Trust me, I will catch you properly and you won't crash to the ground. You weigh like nothing anyway."

"Are you talking about yourself?" She retorted, pertaining to his weight.

"Can you please just jump?"

(Y/N) inhaled and went to the edge of the roof. It was a scary view for her, just looking down makes her dizzy, and want to throw up. She thought he would have the largest frown on his face because of how irritatingly slow she was, but there was Tsukishima waiting for her with the calmest expression. She smiled a little.

"Here I go..."

She took off, closing her eyes, and swallowing her fears. The gravity pulled her feet down shortly after, and Tsukishima readied himself for the impact as he reached her waist. He held on to her lower torso while (Y/N) placed her arms around his shoulders tightly and legs on his waist. The athlete's balance slightly went off, so he took a step back to support both their weights. It was now steady.

"I'm surprised you didn't lose your balance. Where's the weak boned beanpole 3 years ago?"

"I did for a second."

"Doesn't matter. You caught me. Thank you."

They had stayed in that way for a moment until Tsukishima spoke, "Do you plan to get off?"

"No. I'm tired."

"I am too." Yet she refused to let go.

He exhaled, carrying (Y/N) to the main entrance and finally unlocking the door. Her hoodie was cold and some parts are wet, but it didn't rain on that day. He took her in and placed her on the couch. Tsukishima went to his room, changed clothes, and brought a spare sweatshirt, handkerchief, and a towel. He went down but didn't find (Y/N) where he left her, so he walked to the kitchen counter and found the girl on the corner, shivering like a pup.

He tossed the clothing at her without further words. There was a note from her mom beside the curry in the table, saying she had eaten and she left rolls in the refrigerator. He was about to turn on the stove to reheat the food his mother left, but his eyes landed on (Y/N) who sat quietly, hugging the sweatshirt instead of wearing it. Her hair was disheveled, the sleeves and neck part of her hoodie was damp, her nose was red and her puffy, bloodshot eyes implied that she has been crying for who knows how long. He set the pan down to get her a glass of water.

"Everyone was looking for you." Said Tsukishima.

"No one was really looking for me." (Y/N) replied, clearing her nose.

"I didn't spend the last 3 hours tiring myself to scan the whole town for no reason." He sat beside her, handing the glass. "Care to spill the tea?"

(Y/N) drank first before speaking weakly, "I hate them. So much."

The male remained quiet, waiting for her to continue her dilemma.

"Remember when I told you and the class that I will be the most successful doctor in Japan after I finished my studies? It was a lie. It wasn't my dream to stay in a hospital and treat ill people, I only wanted to draw and paint. I didn't care if it never made them or anyone happy, I am happy doing it. And they are taking it away from me."

He knew from the start that her dream job as a doctor wasn't true. For years she stayed close to him as a friend or more, she won't blabber anything of the medical topic. She was terrified of syringes. He saw her reading an article about surgeries and like, but her focus was easily taken away.

She will get a pencil then start scribbling and drawing. Something that Tsukishima always sees her doing whenever she has a pen and paper, but she insists that it was a mere hobby. Her notebooks are well designed and organized, but the back is always full of artistic doodles instead of algebra solutions. She only has very few art materials yet she can make a portrait with only her fingers to shade. She makes digital art without a stylus. She would drag him to the museum after class to view some western and eastern paintings or any work of art while he admires the dinosaur fossils. For times she's watching an art tutorial and talk about art, draw and paint, she has those stupid sparkles in her eyes and a huge smile on her face.

"You know Tsukishima, after I finish studying and became a doctor, I'll become an artist and if the time let's it, I'll open my own art gallery. That's my ultimate dream." She looked alive and delighted.

Very much the opposite of what she looks like right now.

Even though she was a slave of art, as Tsukishima was a slave of his own interests, (Y/N) prioritized her studies so much. He understood why when he went to her house and met her parents before their study sessions. He had noticed everything but chose to stay quiet.

"I-I was drawing last night. Dad entered my room but I didn't notice so he ripped the music away from my ears and yelled. He said that I would always lock myself in my room and draw every night. It was never-ending and irritates the shit out of him. He asked why would I do something so useless that isn't even connected to any academic subject. He was looking down on my art like he was looking at a piece of crap. He told me to stop and threatened me if I didn't. Why would I get punished for drawing? I couldn't get myself to stay silent so I retorted. If he doesn't want to see me drawing, then he shouldn't enter my room at all. He should stop meddling with my hobbies. His anger only went up."

(Y/N) stopped for a while to wipe her tears and snot with her sleeves but Tsukishima placed a handkerchief on her hands. She muttered her thanks and blew her nose and soon followed with a sneeze.

"Soon, it became a full-blown argument. He said that he was checking out if I was doing my projects, but oh he was so disappointed only to find his daughter drawing for nothing. What the heck? I gave them the best grades I could get, and part of it was because of you, Tsukishima, but they still aren't satisfied? I balanced drawing and academics, but they made it seem that all I was doing was my hobby, completely ignoring my efforts at school. I finished the school activities and I reviewed for midterms and all I want is to be left alone and draw. What, they want me to go crazy by studying every hour with things I won't even apply in real life?"

Her fake laughter echoed in the kitchen for seconds before her depressed tone took over again.

"Mom heard all the shouting and joined the argument. Of course, she sided with dad without listening to my feelings and there they ridiculed their youngest child's interests and talent. They told me that everything I do is bullshit and wrong, that I was useless, that I was the huge opposite of their expectations, and... and how come God gave them a joke. She said they raised me so that I could help them, not to do such useless things. It hurts to shout back but I did to explain why I'm so passionate about art in hopes that they will listen and understand but, I was so wrong. I was suddenly slapped..." She placed her hand to her left cheek, her lips quivered a little.

"I-It stung so much. Mom complained about how the Internet generation is so rebellious and won't listen to the elders. They didn't raise and teach me to talk back at them, but here is their child being a bitch. They started comparing me to my elder siblings or relatives who focused on their studies and who are at the door of success. I know they only want me to achieve the best, but my success isn't up to them! It's on me!! And I've invested a lot for that! They shouted at me as mom pulled my hair. It was so loud I thought I was going deaf. Dad blamed the gadget's influence and my drawings. I have only drawn decent fanarts of fictional characters, people, and sceneries, but they believed that because of these, I turned into a mannerless bastard. So mom decided to get my phone and lessen my allowance so that I wouldn't buy any art materials that are a waste of fortune--"

She bit her lower lip that is trembling uncontrollably and her eyesight blurred as her fat tears got in the way.

"and... D-Dad... he... he... he tore m-my sketch pad apart..."

Tsukishima's eyes widened. (Y/N) brought that thing with her almost everywhere she went and it was filled with good drawings and art plans. She has a lot of them though, but Tsukishima could only imagine how she felt when her efforts were trampled over by someone important to her.

(Y/N) broke down, bawled her eyes out, and shrieked hysterically. He looked at her with a heavy heart. He had seen her crying sometimes, be it because of a sad movie or empathy, but never like this. A depressed, emotional wreck. Her eyes were sore enough after a lot of hours, but she won't stop crying. It was heartbreaking to see and hear his significant other in this state, yet Tsukishima didn't know what is the right thing to say.

But maybe there was no need to say anything at all.

Kei wrapped his arms around her weeping figure and pulled her towards him. Cry it out, pipsqueak. (Y/N) didn't expect this action, nonetheless cried in his shoulder He didn't care anymore if this meant he gets his clothes drenched in her snot and tears as long as she felt a little less lonely. He rubbed her back and hair in an attempt to comfort his lover. (Y/N)'s airways hurt, but she screamed the pain out, in hopes that the pain in her heart would vanish. Her weeping went on for long minutes until she choked in her own sobs that Tsukishima had to get her another glass of water.

"Tell me, Kei." She began, wiping her eyes, "Is there... something wrong with me? Is my dream really that insignificant?"

"There's nothing wrong with you. You followed your ideals. Anyone including me would've done the same." He answered beside her.

"I-It's realistic, right?"

"It is."

"Then... why did it turn out like this?" Her voice was cracking.

Tsukishima looked down, "The society is just very cruel."

"Yeah. It sure is. Such a cruel society to live with."

(Y/N) let out a dejected sigh and leaned on Tsukki's shoulder. "I couldn't look at them without such overwhelming fear and hate anymore. I wonder if... they knew that I was doing this for them. I'd like to make them smile with something I've made myself. Once, I made each of them a portrait. A realistic one made from a pencil. I couldn't afford a material set that can be used to paint realistically, but I tried my best to impress them with a charcoal one. Oh, if only you saw their faces when I gave them the portraits. They returned a half-hearted smile. It wasn't the same kind of joy I see whenever I give them perfect scores on tests. I didn't spend 3 sleepless nights just to see their half happy, half unpleased reaction. I wish they could feel more proud of their daughter who worked hard for them... I wonder if they threw it away as he did on my sketch pad..."

They let silence engulf the atmosphere for a while. (Y/N) had calmed down a little, despite shedding smaller tears from the side of her eyes. Tsukishima held the sweatshirt he gave her earlier to make her wear it on the top of her hoodie to lessen her shivering. He stared at her, while the other gazed down on the floor with dead eyes.

Tsukishima asked, "So, what are you going to do now?"

"What am I going to do now huh..." (Y/N) repeated. "I'll probably... put everything to an end."

"You know I won't let you."

"I'm not talking about my life, silly. I might stop drawing and all. I've lost it."

"Isn't your life and drawing one and the same? And I'm pretty sure you have that immense talent to continue."

"No... Besides, talent isn't a talent if it doesn't make anyone happy."

The blonde mentally scoffed. She just said that it makes her happy in the beginning.

"Oh? Fine, stop doing that one thing you put everything into. What would that girl you received a commission from would feel if she were to hear you though?"

(Y/N) was stunned. She had completely forgotten about the whole commission thing she opened in her social media accounts. Tsukishima accompanied (Y/N) on giving the commissioned charcoal portrait to a girl last 3 weeks ago. It was (Y/N)'s first commission for years she's making art. Someone liked her work for the first time and paid for it, and her client looks very contented and glad. The words she said filled her thoughts with inspiration.

"Wow, this is awesome! I'm so happy!! Thank you for making this, it was exactly what I've pictured on my mind! You're amazing! All the excitement I've bottled up for this day is so worth it," The girl, probably a little older than them paused and admired the painting she received from (Y/N).

"Would you ignore those words she said?"

'Please don't stop drawing, I'll be looking forward to your future works!'

A pang of guilt hit her chest. She wants to pursue art, but there are these shackles and chains on her limbs and around her neck that made it hard for her to move forward. She couldn't breathe. What happened yesterday night was too much. Her parents went overboard.

"B-But—"

A monotone voice interrupted her, "Don't. Never stop striving for something you have been building for years. You might be defeated now, but surely, you will win some time. There's no way you'll stay in the lowest level of the ladder after I saw how hard you worked. You will go to nationals again, and I will continue to support you. I'll cheer for you and stay by your side! So please, do not stop! Let me see those beautiful blocks that you execute in the game once more! And I will watch you reach the top! Doesn't matter how many times, I'll never get weary of watching you do amazing things!"

She was silenced by that statement. She had definitely heard those before, but couldn't quite remember where.

"Does the sentiment seem familiar to you? Those are the same words that came from your mouth when I was planning to quit volleyball after our huge loss to Date Tech last year. I am returning them back to you."

"Huh?" She replied with a meek voice.

"That time, you really did a good job meddling with my decisions. It annoyed me first, but what you had stated held a weight that I couldn't disregard. You gave me the small push I didn't know I needed. In the end, I'd like to pay you back." Tsukishima stated with a far away look in his eyes.

(Y/N) listened with watery eyes. This Tsukishima's side isn't definitely the one she gets to see every day so she couldn't feel anything but the warm, fuzzy feeling that is healing her heart.

"It's probably selfish for me to say this but, don't you dare give up. I didn't stop. No matter how long and hard the game is, no matter how tired and discouraged I get, and no matter how many pessimistic thoughts clouded my head, I didn't stop chasing after a falling ball and thinking of another tactic to counter the enemy. I kept your words with me in court. It was you who told me not to in the first place, and I'm not going to forgive you if you ever dropped everything. I won't let the stupid, starry-eyed (Y/N) die today."

The girl beside her started sobbing. "But you told me once that my drawing are ugly."

"Oh. That. I... kind of remember that. I'm not sorry about what I said because I did it to provoke and rile you up. It was a lie though. As someone who always sees you drawing, I can't call your work ugly at all. Your art is... astounding. You make it look like it's so easy to do. I think you forgot next sentence after I told you that."

"What was the sentence after?"

Tsukishima sighed, "I told you to keep doing it, right?"

The sound of (Y/N) crying engulfed the kitchen, "Oh gosh, why did I forget that... I'm sorry, I'm so idiotic..."

The blonde brought her back to his arms, "Will you stop crying, you've been too hard on yourself today,"

(Y/N) hid her face on his chest, muffling her speech, "c-couldn't help it... my mind is such a mess... I do not know..." She paused, coughing. "It's no use if m-my parents don't acknowledge me..."

"Hundreds, or perhaps thousands of people who follow you on social media account recognize you. People in school recognizes you. I recognize you. I am your ally. Isn't that enough reason for you to get back on your feet? I will support you just like how you supported me. You have a lot of people who admire you, but I only have a few people and you. Yet your words are enough. I'm certain that soon, you will reach your parents' standards and get them to acknowledge you. It's not impossible."

(Y/N) fixed her tear-stained face before looking up to him, "You know what? Who are you? Is a good spirit possessing your body? The Kei I know will either stay quiet or laugh at me for being pathetic."

"I was trying to be nice for once and this is what I get?" He frowned.

(Y/N) chuckled and hugged Tsukishima, "I'm sorry. Everything you said meant the world to me. Thank you very much."

She relaxed against his lean body, "I have a question though..."

"What?"

"You literally had no business in my art, it was my own problem. Why are you doing this?"

"Why don't you ask yourself after you argued with me that night? Why did you have to butt in with my choices?"

"Because you like volleyball! You might look like that someone stole your dinosaur collection when you're at practice, but you're good at it and have a future in it! It is a part of you, and you're deciding to throw it away? Your potential is too big to be wasted and I refuse to let that happen." Her voice is a little louder now, but hoarse.

"There's your answer, little gremlin."

"How is that— Oh."

"But I'd like to add something."

"What is it?"

"You look better doing what you really like. It makes you look less like a hag."

It was silent after that. (Y/N) punched his arm. Tsukishima didn't even wince but asked, "What was that for?"

"The last statement was unnecessary, and the first one is sweet yet cringey." She criticized.

"C'mon, I'm just a teenager. Aren't you the cringey one most of the times?"

She used the handkerchief to sniffle her runny nose away, "Why do you have a knack of returning everything I said to me?"

"I won't do it if it's not appropriate." Tsukishima placed his hands on her back and to her hair, "So, what are you going to do now, (Y/N)?"

"I'll think things through. My brain is still slightly messy, but I'll be fine, thanks to you. But Kei..."

He hummed as a response. "I don't want to go home. I want to run away."

"Not possible. You can't survive on your own. You're almost 18 and until now, you don't understand how a washing machine works with all your perfect scores in exams."

"This is just a thought. I didn't say I'll be alone. I'm taking you with me."

"I refuse."

"Why?"

"Couldn't you wait for more months until we graduate?"

(Y/N)'s eyebrows raised, "So basically, you're agreeing, but not this time?"

"No, but you'll be free of your parents' suffocating control. Who knows how huge is your potential by that time."

"How considerate of you." The girl smiled.

"Only this time. And no, we won't live in the same place in college. Not yet. Not until we finish our studies, have secured jobs, and get important things done."

"Will you be playing volleyball at college?"

He lazily replied, "Probably."

"Don't give me such an ambiguous answer!"

"Probably yes."

"Hmm. Fine by me. I'll continue to draw, then." (Y/N) rested her head near Tsukishima's neck.

He smiled a little at her answer, "Another thing though. I don't think... you should leave things with your parents like that. There'll be a time where you have to face it."

"Yes, that sucks... I don't want to think about it but I'll have to go back eventually... When that confrontation happens, I'll try to calmly talk it out with them. I will never be certain if it will end well. But my hate and fear of them won't change."

"You can always run back here if it didn't end well."

"Kei, don't want to see their faces just yet. Can I stay here for a while?"

"You even bother to ask. You are welcome anytime in this household. Just enter the house in the front door, not in my window."

"Right... thank you."

"Oh, now it's my turn to ask. How did you get in there?"

(Y/N) sighed, "It was on 4:30pm. I was on the loose and I looked for a store where anyone can't recognize me so I can eat for lunch. But there's this creep who kept on following me—"

"Did he hurt you?" He abruptly questioned.

"No. I ran as fast as I could before he could even get close to me, but in the next block, there were the town authorities with my mom, and I knew they were looking for me, so I blended into the people with my hoodie on and made my way. I climbed the tree in panic that they'll find me and hid there. It took me hours to notice that your house is just next to it, so I decided to climb to your window. However, the window was locked, and I was stuck."

Tsukishima sighed in relief. "It was a miracle that a klutz like you didn't fell off the tree and surprisingly, no one found you."

"I was high in adrenaline when I climbed the tree. My blending and hiding skills are in ninja-tier now, I beat you."

"Whatever. What did you have for breakfast?"

"...a melon bread."

"Just that?"

"Just that."

Tsukishima kissed her forehead before lifting her up with him. "Go change. Borrow any of my clothes. I'll reheat the food."

(Y/N) kissed his cheek, slowly got off him and went upstairs. Tsukishima opened his phone to text Yamaguchi about her situation and proceeded to reheat the spicy curry.

"Wait, Kei! Is it okay for me to eat?" She shouted from upstairs.

"What kind of question is that? Of course you can." He shouted back.

"Your mom left that for you, for your dad and for your brother. I'd feel bad."

"My brother and dad will come home late and I'm sure they've eaten already. So is mom."

"Are you sure? I can replace the food." She said while going down the stairs.

"Oh, you can cook? I'm afraid you'll burn the whole kitchen." He mocked.

"At least not the whole house." (Y/N) laughed, "Just kidding, I have a tiny knowledge in cooking."

"You don't have to, I told you they already ate. I'll bring out the sushi mom made if you still want to eat."

"Alright. Thank you for the food."

Few hours later, Tsukishima's mom came home and took off her shoes. "I'm home."

As she was about to enter the living room, Akiteru greeted her and placed his finger in front of his lips, indicating her to keep quiet. She wondered what was going on and saw her youngest son and his girlfriend leaning on his shoulder, asleep on the couch in front of the TV. He signaled her to read the note Kei left on the table.

To mom, dad, and brother,

Earlier in the morning, (Y/N) went missing and her parents and town authorities were looking for her. I found her on the way home, but it turns out that she ran away from her home because of an intense argument between her parents, and doesn't want to be found yet. Please let her stay here for a while. I'll do most of the household chores or any favor you ask me in return.

Mom, I shared the curry and sushi rolls with her. I left for some for dad and brother. (Y/N) said it was very delicious.

Love,

Kei.

She smiled after reading the note and looked at the sleeping kids. She took notice of (Y/N)'s eyes and quickly understood the situation. Before she left to rest in her room, she looked for a spare blanket and laid it atop them to keep them warm.

(Y/N) snuggled further to Tsukishima's arms, satisfied on how this night will end well, unlike yesterday's.

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strong-as-a-tree · 3 years

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LEVI X HANDMAID!READER (THE HANDMAID’S TALE X SNK - CROSSOVER) // PART. 7

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader (also Erwin but not romantically)

Disclaimers: Considering what the Handmaid’s Tale is talking about, expect to have some shocking scenes in this. If you are not sure, please look out for a summary of the show on the internet before reading. This story will contain sensible topics if you are not comfortable with the followings, please don’t read this story ♡

Also, yeah the characters will be slightly OOC, because of the nature of the story I couldn’t do it differently, I know Canon Erwin would never endorse Gilead, it literally hurts me to write him as this disgusting Commander… Sorry in advance for any Erwin’s simps !

TW: Emotional Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Female Oppression, mention of executional death, childbirth

Minors DNI

Word count: 1,852 words MASTERLIST

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4 // PART 5 // PART 6

"Ofdaniel is in labour!"

Ruth had woken you up with this amazing news, the older woman immediately helped you get dressed, as the minivan was on its way to pick you up. You had never witnessed a birth yet, of course you knew what you would have to do, they prepared every handmaids for those kind of events back at the Red Center. Despite knowing what was to come, you couldn't help but feel a little nervous at the prospect of witnessing the birth of a child.

The red mini van picked you up, it was raining outside, you could hear the rain hitting the van from inside. As usual, the handmaids weren't allowed to talk in the vehicle, but you could all feel the excitement filling the air.

You were the last handmaids to arrive at the house, and Aunt Olga greeted you with a large grin on her face. She made you all walk in single file along the long corridor leading you to Ofdaniel. You spotted the wives on your way there, all dressed in their regular blue dresses, crowded around Ofdaniel's Commander's wife, who was on the floor, acting as though she was having contractions. Childbirth, like the Ceremony, had a strict protocol to follow, one of which was that the wife must act as if she is in labor herself, allegedly to strengthen the bond between the future mother and the baby.

When you entered the master bedroom, Ofdaniel was panting and her contractions were getting harder and stronger, and the image of the wives soon faded from your mind. The majority of the handmaids had already gathered around her, doing the breathing exercise with her, you joined them. When it was time to push, all the handmaids assisted Ofdaniel to sit in the wooden birthing chair, 'breath in, breath out'. 'Breath in, breath out', the wives entered and helped the Commander's wife to sit on the chair too, right behind Ofdaniel, you didn't even laid an eyes on them, you were sorely focused on Ofdaniel. She was amazing, breathing at the right times, pushing like they taught you at the Red Center.

There were so many people in the room, but still, you thought Ofdaniel was the epitome of dignity, you were awestruck by her strength. Meanwhile, the Commander's wife was also letting out small whimpers, acting as she was pushing along with Ofdaniel. As Aunt Olga announced that the baby's head was out, you patted Ofdaniel's back, 'breath in, breath out,' and the baby was eventually out after a few pushes. Silence fell in the room, when a cry finally escaped the infant's mouth, everyone let out a cry of relief. "There is no greater miracle than the miracle of life." said Aunt Olga with a smile on her face. Ofdaniel was glowing, already putting her arms towards the baby, but Aunt Olga ignored her and gave the baby to the Commander's wife.

One of the handmaid took Ofdaniel's hands so the wives wouldn't notice her previous gesture, you could see that Ofdaniel eyes were glued to her baby, the wives were already leaving the room. You noticed Ofdaniel's face contort in a desperate state, tears streaming down her cheeks, and you knew she was about to explode; you weren't the only one who realised it, and all the handmaids gathered around her and hugged her, preventing the woman from doing anything that would result in her punishment. Her muffled cries could be heard, and silent tears welled up in your eyes as well.

Most of the other handmaids had left, the other that stayed were helping the Martha of the house with the buffet for the Commanders and the wives. You were still in the master bedroom, Aunt Olga had asked you to stay with Ofdaniel, the older woman was surely with the Commander's wife, examining the baby, it was also part of an Aunt's job after all. You were sitting on the bed, next to you was Ofdaniel, she was laying under the covers, you had helped her get cleaned with Ofgrisha earlier. She was silent, her eyes were wide open, looking at the ceiling above you. You were holding her hand that was resting on her still swollen stomach, "It's funny, y'know", Ofdaniel's voice was so faint that at first you thought you had imagined it. The woman didn't wait for you to ask her what was funny as she continued, "Every month they desperately tried to put a child in me here, in this bedroom, and today they placed me in this bedroom again, but this time, I had to give them back this child..."

You pinched your lips, unsure what to say; although Gilead taught you that your whole life should revolve around having a baby, you had a nagging feeling that if life had been different for you, if Gilead hadn't existed, if they hadn't taken you away from your parents when you were still a teenager, you wouldn't have wanted children. Maybe Gilead simply ruined the idea of motherhood for you, and you were lying to yourself, 'there is no use to think about that, it's not like you would ever be a mother anyway', you thought as you tried to push the mental image of a baby in your arms out of your mind.

Having a baby would entail, like Ofdaniel, having to give it up and immediately go to another 'family' to give them another child. You knew it was your fate, Gilead frequently tested their handmaids, and you knew for a fact that you were very much able to get pregnant. As Aunt Olga would say, that meant you'd never be transferred to the colonies; you'd been blessed. Still, after every Ceremonies, you couldn't help but pray that your Commander was sterile, every month without getting pregnant, were days of semblance of 'freedom'. Not being pregnant, not being under a man's body, not having to take care of another person's child, was the maximum freedom a woman could get in Gilead.

"Ah, my girls!", your thoughts got interrupted as Aunt Olga entered the room, she was beaming! Ofdaniel looked at her with an absent look on her face, you recognized that look, you had worn it before, she had given up. You immediately thought of Levi's words; 'If you continue to shield your mind like this, [...] you'll lose yourself'. You tried to catch her attention by shaking her hand a little, but it was in vain, she didn't acknowledge your gesture. "Oh! Ofdaniel, you did such a good job!" exclaimed the older woman as she sat on the opposite side of the bed, taking Ofdaniel's other hand, "Your Commander is so happy! And his wife too!", Olga was overjoyed, you couldn't help but think she must be even more happy that the parents, you had seen the look on her face when she handed the infant to the wife, there was a tinge of envy, if not outright jealously, beneath her plastered smile. It was not the first time you had seen that look on her face, on your way to the your Commander's house, you also had that thought about the older woman.

"The baby is an healthy little boy, five fingers and five toes on each hand and foot!", said the woman with a laugh, at that statement Ofdaniel's eyes shot up, "C-can I see him?", Aunt Olga sighed, her palm resting on Ofdaniel's cheek, "Oh my dear..." she whispered, "I wish I could say yes for the sake of the baby's health! But the Commander's wife doesn't want you to breastfeed the baby", she said with a disappointed voice. Ofdaniel looked at the ceiling again, a single tear streaming down her cheek, as Olga continued blabbering about how it was a shame that the baby will be fed with formula instead of breast milk. The older woman was known for always saying how much she cared and loved her 'girls', what a lie you thought, right now her only worry was on the infant, not on Ofdaniel.

"I think Ofdaniel needs some rest, Aunt Olga," you finally murmured, interrupting the woman's outpouring, "Oh, you are right Oferwin, how lucky you are Ofdaniel to have such a caring friend beside you!" You cringed at her words; 'lucky' was not the word you had in mind right now. Suddenly Ofdaniel sat up and grabbed Olga's hand, stopping the older woman as she was about to get up, "What's his name?". Olga hesitated a second, studying Ofdaniel's face, "They named him Armin."

You spent the entire day with Ofdaniel, Ofgrisha had come at some point to keep you company, but it was very silent. As the day progressed, Ofdaniel's sadness worsened, and she was forced to return to her chamber. The new parents no longer needed her, therefore she will return to the Red Center tomorrow to rest before being assigned to a new family.

It was late at night and all the other handmaids had left, Aunt Olga had called for Levi to bring you back home, you kissed Ofdaniel's forehead, "I'm sorry" you whispered. You weren't quite sure why you were apologizing, maybe you said sorry because you knew no one would apologize to her; her Commander would never apologize for the Ceremonies, his wife would never apologize for taking her baby away, Aunt Olga would never apologize for not defending her right to see little Armin, Gilead would never apologize.

As you were leaving, you passed by the living room, you caught a glimpse of the baby, he was in a little bassinet, his eyes were closed, but you saw some light almost white hair sticking out of his bonnet. Levi was waiting for you in front of the black Range Rover, he opened the door for you, after making sure you were comfortable, the driver took a seat behind the wheel. You were in the back, you felt tired, all of the emotions of the day took a toll on you. "It's a boy" you suddenly said, you didn't know why you said it, you were sure Levi couldn't care less about the child, but you felt the need to talk. The man didn't react at your words, his eyes were focused on the road, "I think he'll have blond hair, like Ofdaniel", you said, smiling at that thought, neither the Commander nor his wife had blond hair, so the child would at least get something from his mother.

Levi looked at you in the rearview mirror, "Hopefully he won't inherit the Commander's nose", you snorted, he said it with such a nonchalant voice. You continued to tell him how the day went, not forgetting to mention every little detail that you thought were important, like how amazed you were at Ofdaniel's strength or how ridiculous the wife looked when she faked having contractions. Levi didn't speak much, only nodding or giving a witty remark here and there. It was relaxing, it was strangely normal. Normality was such a foreign feeling since you arrived at Gilead, so you embraced the moment.

lovely people: @rapsgoddess @a--nonymousse @gothiccii @omlbarnes @hybrid-huntress

PART 8

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman #the handmaid's tale #aot x reader #snk fanfiction #shinjeki no kyojin

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victoria-daydreams · 3 years

Text

The Long Way Home

Chapter Five: A Summer Place

AN: Claudia is back babyyyy!!!

Trigger Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.8k

Taglist: @iloveeverything-09, @eiferundruhe, @greatscott--wrongdecade

Chapter Six: Hell Hath No Fury

Claudia's POV

This was not what I was expecting today.

Today was supposed to be another ordinary day, I just returned from the airport an hour ago after dropping my parents off, it was a lovely week of fun spending time with my parents. And at that moment, nothing felt better than falling into a deep sleep, but the weather was too nice for me to nap the day away. The sun was warm enough, watery in the way it was just before the heat of the evening, but there was a slight chill on the breeze that would make you shiver for sure once you got out of the water wet, still it was perfect swimming weather.

Underneath my umbrella, I sat in my chair sipping from my glass of lemonade absently in one hand while my other hand held the latest copy of Jet magazine. This is how a summer day should always be. Refreshing. Cool. And with Andy Williams soothing voice as background noise, god, I almost wanted to dance and laugh and smile and sing all at the same time. For once, I was glad that none of the neighborhood children were begging to play in the pool.

Everything was perfect.

And then it happened.

I was enjoying the serene moment until a sudden rush of emotions gushed up to the forefront of my consciousness. Thrill, excitement, determination, annoyance, and curiosity they all flooded my senses. I could almost feel the tingling of my powers tickling me on my fingertips. But one stood out above all of them.

Guilt.

With the slightest of movement I flicked my fingers immobilizing four out of the five men in my backyard. "Now Hank," I called out, setting down my glass and magazine on a small table next to me. "When I invited you to stop by my house whenever you please, that invitation wasn't extended to a stranger, a wanted criminal, a drug abuser, and a..." I paused, loudly sniffing the air twice. "A dog," I finished, not bothering to turn around.

"I wouldn't have brought them along if this wasn't important," Hank explained. "We need your help Claudia," he added.

"You've go to be kidding me?" I breathed, as released my telekinetic hold. I swung my legs over the side of my lounge chair and slipped on the silk robe that was on back of it. "I let the maids take off one day and look what happens," I complained, rolling my eyes before lifting the needle of my recorder player.

I rose from my seat, sliding my shoes on and with a slow sauntering gait, I walked towards the group. I was thankful for the round, oversized sunglasses that I was wearing, for the dark brown frames hid how my eyes slightly widened at Charles' appearance. Charles looked...well he looked god awful, to be honest. He had always kept himself cleanly shaved, but now he had let his facial hair grow wildly on his face, even his shortly kept brown hair had grown out. And the dark bags under his eyes, it seemed like Charles hasn't a had good night's rest in years.

And Erik, for someone that's been imprisoned underneath The Pentagon he still managed to maintain his handsome, clean shaven, and chiseled face. You would think that the roles had been reversed, that Charles was the one who had been locked up and not Erik by their appearances. Numerous thoughts and feelings threatened to flood my mind, but I didn't allow it. Not yet. I just needed to focus on how to get them to leave.

"Wow, your lady friend is smokin' hot," the silver-haired boy stated, gawking at me in my v-cut one piece swimsuit which had the sides cutout.

I stopped in front of them with my hand on my hip, looking from the unknown man with sideburns to Charles and then Erik. Slowly, I used my free hand to remove my sunglasses from my face, my eyes narrowed.

"Charles," I greeted simply, as Hank shuffled slightly.

Charles stood in shock for a moment staring at me dumbly, probably just in as much shock from seeing me after all these years and how I changed. My long, black locks no longer fell down to my shoulders, but now floated above it in thick, tight curls of my afro. My chestnut brown skin was tanned from the warm summer sun, but still as radiant as ever.

"Y-You look well," Charles complimented smiling slightly, recovering from his lapse of silence, as he stared at me.

"You look like shit," I snorted, letting out a chuckle as I folded my sunglasses up and putting them into my pocket "The years haven't been kind to you have they?" I asked rhetorically, folding my arms together. "Tell me Charles, are you happier now that I'm gone?" I asked mockingly. "It sure doesn't seem like it," I added, really laying it on thick.

"Claudia, we are not here for this," 'Sideburns' grumbled.

I tuned my head slightly to the man, leveling him with a venomous look,"I'm sorry, but who the hell are you?" I questioned, arching a brow.

My eyes scanned over the man's appearance, he was a little more than six feet tall, and was probably in his early or mid thirties. He had to be military or ex-military because he was built like a soldier, his muscles seemed to be harder than a tree from the way his clothes clung to him. Dark brown sideburns came down his face which reached his cheeks along with a five o'clock shadow. Anger seemed to ooze out of this man's pores. I knew he could take care of his self in a fight if such an event were to ever occur.

"My name is Logan," he answered, his blue eyes burning like two hot coals as he stared into mine.

"Are you sure it's not Dog?" I asked, a wry grin appearing on my lips as I watched this man's jaw clench. "You know with the sideburns the similarities are...uncanny," I stated, shaking my head and focusing my attention to Hank who was next to me, and was about to open his mouth. "I could call the authorities you know?" I said, cutting Hank off. "Erik's bounty would fetch a substantial payout," I noted, tapping my index finger on my cheek, thinking.

"You seem to be getting on well enough as it is," Erik replied, flicking his chin out in regards to my home.

I raised my eyebrow, "So why settle for less?" I asked cheekily.

He scoffed in disbelief, "You would actually sell me out?" Erik asked, crossing his arms.

"I'm just doing my patriotic duty Erik," I answered, raising my hands up and shrugging.

"Claudia," Hank called softly, and I looked back over to him. "I know that you have every reason to be upset right now, but please hear us out," Hank pleaded.

"We need your help Claudia," Logan stated.

"Then go hire a maid," I retorted, waving him off.

Logan growled in frustration, "Do you know how much trouble we been through just to break Erik out of the Pentagon and now to get you?" he asked, furrowing his brows.

I slid my hands into my robe pockets, "Sounds like a personal problem," I replied, shrugging again. "I didn't force you to do any of this," I pointed out with a grin.

Logan's hand clenched itself in a tight fist, "Listen lady, I've had-" He gritted out.

"No, you listen!" I interrupted, stepping closer to him. "I don't know who the hell you think are to think that you can waltz into my backyard and start making demands of me," I sassed, looking Logan up and down. I stepped in front of Hank and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hank, under any other circumstance I would be happy to see you, or even help you. But due to the fact that there are some..." I trailed, looking back at Erik and Charles. "Undesirable individuals with you," I continued, focusing my attention back to Hank. "If I were to join this little party of yours it would never work. You see Hank, I live a very comfortable life now and I'm not giving it up for the likes of them," I finished, shaking my head.

"But it's not for them Claudia, it's for humanity itself. We're trying to save the world," Hank explained, giving me a pleading look.

"Hmmm," I hummed, a sardonic smile on my lips as I shook my head again. "Funny, they said the same thing in 1962," I remembered. "Truly Hank, it was nice to see you after all these years," I smiled, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before removing my hand and turning to face the men behind me. "But, it's time for you and your guests to leave. You have overstayed your welcome," I said, gesturing to the backyard gate. "Safe travels," I added, spinning on my heel and moving past Hank toward my backdoor.

"You're just going to let her go?" I heard Logan ask. "To hell with this," he grumbled.

"Logan don't-"

I went to take another step forward, but a calloused hand roughly grabbed my wrist, spinning me around and making our bodies bump into each other.

"We're not going anywhere until you fully hear us out!" Logan exclaimed, as I glared at him. "I'm not sure what it is about you that makes Charles and Erik so subdue, but I'm not them. I'm not afraid of you!" he announced, keeping his grip tight around my wrist.

Instinctively, my free hand bawled itself into a fist cloaked in a violet aura as a scowl made its way onto my face.

"Uhh...mister her hand is glowing," The silver-haired boy informed, as I swung a powerful blow to Logan's jaw, his body crumpling on the lawn.

"They're not scared, they just know better," I corrected, spreading my fingers out and the aura spread from my hand to encasing Logan's limbs. Forcefully, I planted my foot down onto Logan's chest, tilting my head as I looked down at him. "But you? Why in the world would you be? I'm nothing to be afraid of, as you can obviously tell. I'm far too small to be any threat to a big, strong man like you," I mocked, pressing my foot down even harder and Logan glared daggers at me.

"Claudia-" Charles began, but I just lifted one finger silencing him.

"Typically, I wouldn't be opposed to ripping your limbs off right now," I explained, stretching my fingers out slightly and Logan grunted at the modest tugs at his extremities. "But, I would hate to get this freshly mowed lawn all bloody. One of the neighborhood boys worked so hard on it," I commented. "Now, like I said before, it's time for you to go," I enunciated slowly, hoping that it would get through that thick skull of his.

I removed my foot from Logan's chest, shooting him one more glare before I walked to the backdoor. As I opened the backdoor to my home I released my hold on Logan's appendages.

"Wow Charles, you sure know how to pick them," Logan drawled sarcastically.

And with a wave of my hand I forcefully shut the door behind me.

Chapter Seven: A Woman Scorned

#x-men fanfiction #black fanfiction #x-men fanfic #charles xavier fanfiction #charles xavier x oc #black!oc #magneto x oc #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr fanfiction #erik lehnsherr x oc #erik lehnsherr x reader #charles xavier x reader #black!reader #x men fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic

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fellowstrangetownappreciator · 3 years

Text

The Strange Case of The Strangetown Metamorphosis

There is a mysterious Sim that appears in Strangetown.

That's like saying "there is a fish that appears in the ocean", I know, so I'll be a little more specific.

They are an adult whose memories show inconsistencies with those of their family members. Something is missing!

Alright. That's also not saying much, that's like half of the premades in vanilla, non-clean hoods.

They are immediately recognizable by their appearance and, dare I say it, have distinguishing features unique to them.

Well, that also kinda fits everyone...

They feature in more than one installment of the series.

Again, not that helpful. I mean, almost everybody from the base game hoods is (for better or worse) represented in TS3 or TS4.

They appear in TS2 for PSP!

Hmm...

They are a member of a wealthy family connected to science and paranormal.

And...

They are somehow connected to (possible) cloning.

I imagine that now you’re probably rolling your eyes and asking: Why didn’t I just simply say I was going to talk about Bella Goth?

Because... I’m not!

It’s Loki Beaker. In this mini-essay I’m going to speak about Loki, what is the mystery around him, what hints are there and what are some of the theories and which one do I fancy.

It’s basically a routine round of the popular game “connect EAxis’ oversights and glue them together into a headcanon”.

So without further ado, let me introduce you to:

The Mystery of Loki Beaker!

0: Preface: Loki who?

“As soon as he perfects his latest invention, Loki is sure to get the recognition he knows he deserves. In the meantime, he keeps himself busy by trying to assemble a nuclear reactor out of common household items.”

On the first glance, Loki as a Sim seems quite straightforward. He is a Knowledge Sim with a very eccentric personality. All his trait points are in the extremes, as you can see:

He is a scientist, a competent one at that, as proven by his high career level and the fun fact that some of the game’s horrible machinery you can buy for Aspiration points is attributed to his creation.

(It explains why are the Beakers the only ones who have the stuff lying around by default. It is normal for a Strangetown family to own a non-buyable reward object or two but those are career rewards, the Beakers are the only one who canonically own Aspiration points rewards.)

Even though he knows his stuff when it comes to his profession, he is very corrupt and tests his questionable projects on his captive, Nervous Subject.

To say that Loki is unpopular would be an understatement. No one but his wife Circe likes Loki, even his own sister is indifferent towards him. Yes, he has a sister. Her name is Erin and she also lives in Strangetown with a colorful collection of roommates.

Nothing mysterious about him so far. (apart from his eyebrows)

1: Characterization fallen apart

And then The Sims 3 happened. It was actually quite late into the game’s life cycle, the early 2013, when a beautiful nordic-themed world was released on TS3 Store. Its name was Aurora Skies and it featured Loki, Erin and their parents.

TS3 Loki is a child and Erin is a toddler.

Now I haven’t actually played Aurora Skies. I own (and love) TS3 but the price range for the Store worlds is too high for me, content-to-money wise. So there might be some hidden clues about the Beakers in their house or relationship panels that I haven’t been able to inspect but... not to sound cynical but I doubt it. I doubt such attention was given to detail of this family in Aurora Skies, as they don’t even have individual bios.

But... that is... fine? I mean, we have Loki’s TS2 bio...

Nope. Sure we do. And it would be fine if hair color and ambitions weren’t the only thing Loki and his younger self (from now on referred to as smol Loki) had in common.

Let’s take a look on smol Loki’s personality.

The first noticeable thing is that there is not a trace of Loki’s trademark villainy. He’s not Mean Spirited, he’s not Evil, he’s not even a No Sense of Humor Sim. His extreme neatness and hyperactivity are nowhere to be seen either. While it is true that TS3′s capabilities of defining personality are very limited as it picks “outstanding points” rather than a position of each trait on a scale, and it only has 5 slots (and tiny teeny 3 for children), it doesn’t make any sense still for the devs not to pick some more loki-esque traits for the precious slots they had.

Unless...

They didn’t care about Loki’s personality and there were no deeper intentions.

Unless the devs were trying to purposefully show us new angles of his character that either got suppressed while he was growing up, or manifest in ways that TS2′s scale system wasn’t able to show.

Could the Lucky trait in particular have had something to do with the change?

(Also, those traits of smol Loki are reason why I usually go for a Family Secondary Loki in TS2 and thus make Strangetown the purgatory of two unstable blonde Knowledge/Family sciency guys.)

We also must not omit that even though smol Loki didn’t display any of them, he still had all of Loki’s signature traits in him, as Loki in TS2 has his actual personality synced with the genetic one, meaning that there was something in there that caused him not to act so mean that got lost as he grew up. In other words, something brought up the worst in him.

And that’s not all. Smol Loki is not a regular TS3 child. You see, in TS3, premade children aren’t particularly known for being highly skilled experts. Neither are in TS2, for that matter, and it’s okay. It’s realistic.

Smol Loki has a skill maxed.

It is very rare for a premade regardless of age to already start with a maxed skill and I personally don’t know of any other premade children that do.

And it’s writing.

What does writing have to do with Loki? Does Loki write? Probably he has to, those academic papers aren’t gonna spawn out of thin air, but that’s not what the writing skill in TS3 (or the hidden writing skill in TS2) are about. They’re about creative writing only.

Ok, ok. How high is Loki’s Creativity skill, then? In TS2, skills are much broader, they more resemble skillsets than individual skills, and writing categorizes under Creativity. Bring out the skill panel!

Two. He has 2 points in Creativity. That is... low. That is actually very low, especially for a Sim that has supposedly been writing for fun since childhood. (and was a prodigy, while we’re at it) It is safe to say, I think, that if the player doesn’t make him do it, Loki doesn’t write anymore and he hasn’t been doing that for a long, long time.

While I would cynically admit that the dissonance in personalities might be just the lack of damns given from EAxis’ side, this seems to me too on the nose to be unintentional.

They would have no reason to bring the Beakers back without the “evil scientists” thing in mind. I mean, that’s what they’re iconic for. That’s what they’re recognizable by. (apart from their eyebrows)

So the person who was in charge of creating smol Loki probably knew they were recreating “Loki the mad scientist”.

So when they were picking the skill they use to demonstrate that this kid is gonna go far, they thought... “evil scientist = writing”...?

I would understand going for Creativity in general. I mean, Loki’s an inventor. That comes with the territory. But creativity as such isn’t really a skill in TS3. It’s divided to different activities.

Wouldn’t it make more sense just in general to pick logic, then? I mean, Loki isn’t that extremely logical by default but it is his second strongest skill and a feature unmistakably connected to being a scientist.

That’s what leads me to believe that writing plays a role in the story and it was chosen on purpose.

So how did a sweet little family-oriented boy talented with words transform into the ruthless catboy inventor we know and love?

And that, my friends, is the mystery of Loki Beaker.

2: A closer look at our environmentalist friends, the Beakers

If we want to get the full picture and come to a satisfying conclusion of some sorts, we need to inspect smol Loki’s surroundings. Maybe there is a clue to the continuous force or a traumatic event that shifted smol Loki’s direction in life?

Loki’s and Erin’s parents are named Gundrun and Bjorn. Even though their age would still allow it, they’re not present at the start of TS2′s Strangetown play, they’re long dead. Bjorn died before Erin became an adult and Gundrun died shortly before her son’s engagement to Circe. Because they died by the time Loki had (presumably) already long enrolled in his current life-path, we can safely rule out any tragic early death of parental figures scenario as a possible answer.

Gundrun is the only Beaker that canonically also writes. She has 5 points in the writing skill. She also shares some traits with Loki, namely the smarts and ambition.

But she has little to do with science and is way more business-oriented which is a trait she shares with Circe’s ancestors, for example her father. Maybe the families knew each other from business ventures even before they moved to Strangetown? It is stated in their memories that Loki and Circe first met when they were children. But I digress!

Anyway, I don’t see anything in Gundrun that would suggest any abusive behavior towards her son that might have triggered his drastic change. Possibly but not necessarily she might’ve been a bit absent but nothing out of ordinary.

And now the father, Bjorn.

Bjorn is the sciency half of the couple and works as an Aquatic Ecosystem Tweaker. Again, he has zero traits that would raise any red flags and he shares 4 out of 5 traits with either smol Loki or Loki. (I don’t know if Loki is a “natural cook” but he cooks quite well, so I think that counts.)

What’s interesting about Bjorn, though, is his speech that serves as a flavor text for the Aurora Skies store page.

(Image transcript: “Do it for science! Science is everywhere around us, but at Aurora Skies it’s not just something you learn; it’s something you do! We need bright young minds to make the dreams of the future a reality. Even now we’re finding more uses for garbage to help the planet. Charging batteries, powering machines - the sky is the limit. Just this last year we created a modified Hot Air Baloon using garbage as fuel and turning it into pure air with a pine breeze scent. Now you can have efficient travel and an amazing romantic adventure with no cost to the ozone (or your nose)! Every year we’re creating more and more exciting things in the world of science. Garbage-powered hearts, heart-powered cars, solar-powered cats; what will you think of next! It’s all up to you. Do it for Science! Did you know? Hot Air Balloons are an epic form of travel based around the simple principle that hot air is lighter than cold air. They lift in the air based on the heat system in the balloon. Increasing the temperature of the air inside the balloon makes it lighter than the air outside and the balloon begins to float. More air is required to lift heavier things; that’s why the balloons have to be so huge! How cool (or hot!) is that?”)

From this piece of text we can see Bjorn’s passion and dedication to “green” science. Nothing in his traits suggests he fakes it, so I think it’s safe to believe that this peppy idealist is a glimpse into Loki’s father’s genuine self.

He might have encouraged his children to follow in his footsteps (”We need bright young minds to make the dreams of the future a reality.“) and smol Loki, who later in life seemed to have similar levels of enthusiasm (science is his One True Hobby), might have been receptive to that.

Now just close your eyes for a second and imagine an alternate reality in which Loki picked up where Bjorn left and instead of a energy-refilling machine that electrocutes you if you’re not happy enough, he invented “solar-powered cats”.

Still no hints on what could’ve messed Loki up, though.

Let’s take a look at the parents in TS2. Even though they’re not present and aren’t even resurrectable, they’re still coded in the game for purposes of genetics, memories and family trees, so some of their characteristics are salvageable.

And by the Watcher, they were both Romance Sims.

They were workaholic Romance Sims who cared about the environment and liked recycling (and Hot Baloons).

And they were both extremely Nice and very Sloppy, if their personalities on wiki are something to go by. Which they unfortunately aren’t, at least not completely because most ancestors don’t simply have “their own” personalities and use presets instead, so they tend to be quite similar.

The same goes for most of the Beaker clan, unfortunately. Fun fact is that there is no Knowledge Sim in sight (before Loki, of course). Maybe they weren’t a scientist family, but a bunch of Romance Sims who used to spend their free time in between woohoos saving the planet with eco-science. (3 out of 6 of Loki’s and Erin’s ancestors were Romance Sims, 2 were Fortune and 1 was Family)

But! There is one outlier. Her name is Gertrude Beaker. She is Loki’s paternal grandmother.

And similarly to her grandson, she certainly has a personality to remember.

She doesn’t use a preset, this is a personality that someone went and manually assigned (...or generated) for her. And she is Neat, Outgoing and doesn’t have a nice bone in her body. But unlike Loki, she has a sense of humor (which makes her even more dangerous, in my opinion) and is extremely Lazy.

She is a Fortune Sim and the only Beaker who shares the darker sides of Loki’s personality. (to be clear, I don’t mean their taste for cleaning but the round 0 of Nice points)

Because she doesn’t feature in TS3 at all, it is safe to say that she wasn’t in her grandchildren’s lives until the family moved to Strangetown. Could she be the corrupting influence on smol Loki?

As far as personality comparison goes, she seems to be the only possible culprit, the only one who’s personality shares the same unpleasant qualities he became infamous for. But! That’s not saying much. There is no evidence she actually did anything.

There’s not even any evidence that she ever met her grandson, given he has no memory of her dying which means she might have died before he was even born. That would be a solid evidence on the contrary and would rule her out. But I’m leaving some maneuvering space for theories here because she is the only Beaker ancestor with custom personality, after all, and that is suspicious.

That’s all the Beakers we know of if not counting Atom and Ceres, who came after Loki, so they’re not relevant to the question of his childhood. Or... are they?

3: And that’s when the trouble began

Another part of this question that might help us discern what happened to Loki is the when. All we know so far is that there is a big void of unknown between smol Loki and regular Loki and the point of transformation happened in there somewhere.

Thankfully, we have something to give us an idea. It’s this snapshot in storytelling pictures for the Beakers:

It shows smol Loki destroying a dollhouse. It seems to be in an impersonal environment of some sorts. The cheapest bed in the game is against a bare white wall, the window is hid behind blue curtains and there doesn’t really seem to be anything else but the dollhouse, a teddy bear in the background and that... very unpleasant bed.

It clearly tells us that Loki’s shift started in his pre-teen years.

And seeing that room which is definitely not in the Beaker Castle at 1 Tesla Court, it makes me think of a hotel or a cheap apartment the family was staying in while moving from Aurora Skies to Strangetown. Maybe the castle-like something the household inhabits at the start of the game wasn’t a property of the Beakers at all, maybe that was where the Salamises used to live and now it belongs to Circe?

Anyway, could it had been leaving Aurora Skies that sent smol Loki down an existential crisis and settling in the not exactly welcoming environment of Strangetown, enrolling in a local school, that sealed it?

But why all the stuff with writing? This would work with any other hobby but somehow it had to be writing and it’s our task to find out why.

4: Not your average tragedy

Now in our search we already have some ideas but it wouldn’t be thorough if we didn’t take into account smol Loki’s actual personality. I mean, we went into what traits he doesn’t have but what about those he has?

Namely Lucky and Family-Oriented.

I think Lucky is a very interesting choice. There’s nothing inherent about Loki Beaker that would make you go “that’s one lucky guy!” (if you don’t count his relationship with Circe as a stroke of luck, that is) and the same goes for smol Loki.

But... it could be a clue. His metamorphosis either couldn’t be triggered by trauma because he’s lucky and it would avoid him, or it must’ve been something tremendously horrid so he’s lucky he’s still alive.

Now we know we are searching for something that happened in his late childhood, verging on the start of his teenage years. His family was going through the turmoil of moving to a desert and he has already known his future partner Circe. Meanwhile Erin-

Oh, wait. Erin.

Smol Loki was Family-Oriented which implies he would probably have a good relationship with his little sister, as he would’ve naturally inclined to protect her and help his parents take care of her. But!

Not only do they have an amicable but distant relationship as adults but Erin seems to forget that Loki even existed in her childhood.

He has the usual set of memories of a sibling growing up well but she doesn’t, she has no Loki-related memories at all, not even of his marriage, which was a quite recent event.

Could the reason for Loki’s “downfall” be somehow related to his sister? Was there a dramatic event in which she lost a part of her memory?

5: Theories!

Ok, we’re finally here! Now I try to present some theories about what might’ve happened.

1. Burdens of the golden child

In Aurora Skies, Loki used to be the little wonder every relative was gushing about. With his father as an acclaimed scientist and a very liked person in general, there was little to no adversity his son had to face. He followed his passion and having nobody to really compare himself to, nor anybody who would terrorize him, he prospered.

But then the Beakers moved. Strangetown was... different. It was way smaller than Aurora Skies, so everybody inherently knew everybody and everybody had to interact with everybody... because the small space of a desert community didn’t leave them with any choice. And it was bleak and unfriendly. No one except for the Salamises knew the Beakers, so they found themselves under scrutiny from their new neighbors.

So Loki, who used to live thinking he was unique, was now sitting everyday in a much smaller classroom with Pascal and Vidcund Curious, whom he was immediately being compared to. But he wasn’t like the Curiouses. He was a kid of a scientist but wasn’t a science kid. He didn’t have much in common with Pascal who approached him and tried to befriend him at first but he wanted to. In Strangetown, nothing seemed to be cooler than being really, really into science. Pascal’s and Loki’s communication attempts were rather poor, though, and in the end, they never made friends. Loki slowly began to disdain the oldest Curious boy and it culminated a few years later in high school when Pascal made an attempt to woo Circe. It was even worse with Vidcund. Ever since Loki’s first day at the new school, Vidcund had been eyeing him with a disgusted look and Loki became quick to reciprocate.

In Strangetown, nothing seemed to be cooler than being really, really into science. Even Circe was on it! She was the only person his age he has know in Strangetown before his family moved in and he liked her. Not “like” liked her, yuck! But he thought she was cool. Her family used to visit the Beakers in Aurora Skies and they played together. She was a friend! Or so Loki thought. She seemed to like hanging out with the Curiouses much more.

In Strangetown, nothing seemed to be cooler than being really, really into science, yes. But not in the eyes of Buzz Grunt, the son of a general who lived in Strangetown. Their family were the self-proclaimed protectors of the hood but at the same time they weren’t shy to show a strong distaste for all that made Strangetown an important desert settlement in the first place. And little Buzz, although Loki doubted he understood the nuances, was very fond of asserting his dominance over his less sporty and hyper-masculine classmates.

Suddenly jealous of the Curious brothers, under pressure from both the adults and his peers comparing him to them and bullied by Buzz, Loki’s social life fell apart. He started having problems... and he came up with solutions. He has always liked science but from back then on he hyperfixated on it to prove everybody who picked on him for being a worthless parody of a science kid wrong.

Not only his social life and self-confidence were busted, though. Moving away from Aurora Skies to Strangetown that had much higher prices for housing because of the limited space, the living standards for the Beakers lowered. It was chaotic and uncomfortable. Plus, almost everybody in Strangetown was loaded. Why, Circe and her parents lived in a small castle! Loki felt like they’re the only “poor” family around and it played into his new-found insecurities.

And then there was Erin’s accident. She suffered a severe head injury and even though she fortunately survived, she was never... the same. She had issues with her memory. Loki tried to convince himself that he’s big enough not to cry but when they were visiting Erin in the hospital and she didn’t recognize him, he cried. It was his little sister! And... it was all his fault anyway! If he was quicker and pushed her to safety, she would’ve been fine! Or even better, he wished the car would’ve hit him instead.

Loki was becoming more and more snappy, focused on his grades and projects, unavailable. The siblings never mended their relationship, Erin, even though she recovered, never got to make new memories with her brother. Not remembering them growing up together, he was like a stranger to her. A scary mean teenage boy she didn’t know and, even though she was a very friendly child, she was too intimidated to willingly spend time with him. And Loki was always busy and moreover, he felt guilty and inexplicably angry, so he postponed approaching her, until it was too late, he was in college, she was in high school and it was too awkward.

And... there was no time to write anymore.

2. Gertrude the Neat and Mean (and Lazy)

Ok, Loki doesn’t have any memories of his grandma. But hear me out! Erin does not have any of him either and yet they met. This theory doesn't require any additional write up – he simply got under the influence of his 0 Nice points granny and she cultivated him to be just like her.

My personal take: This is maybe my least favorite theory of them all, even though it is quite straightforward. It doesn't take much into consideration and demonizes Gertrude, who as far as we know, might not done anything wrong.

3. The accident

This theory takes advantage of TS3's canon sciency machinery, namely Cerebralizing Brain Enhancing Machine 2.0.

It can, among other things, change a Sim's personality. There is (quite unfortunately, in my opinion) no chance of consequential failure in the actual game, the most it can do is to (non-fatally) electrocute your Sim. But...

Imagine smol Loki sneaking into his dad's laboratory, most probably at his workplace.

He was curious. Ever since his father showed him all the equipment in there, all he could think of was the machine that made people smarter.

Maybe it could make him smarter?

I mean, Loki knew he was already quite smart. At least, he's been told he was and he had no reason not to believe it.

But he could be even smarter.

He could be like his dad. Or his mom. Or Erin. Everyone was talking about how clever young Erin seemed. Loki was proud of her but part of him just wanted that, too.

So what if... he went to dad's laboratory, just for a little while, and made himself smarter?

He made all the necessary preparations. It meant to memorize dad’s schedule, so he knew just the time when he could sneak into the laboratory. It also meant to get a good costume so he won’t be recognizable on the security footage!

And then finally, he was ready. To infiltrate the laboratory was easy enough but it only made Loki more nervous. He was on the edge but determined. He wanted to make it big in the world. He needed to seize the opportunity. And fear... fear was there to be ignored! Hands, stop trembling!

His confidence grew a bit once he got to the machine itself. He knew how to run it thanks to his dad and it made him feel competent and ready.

Little did he know that there was a huge oversight. Although Loki could operate the technology on a very basic level, his knowledge went nowhere near deep enough for him to detect that the machine has yet another set of settings and those currently expect an adult user. It wasn’t configured for a child patient.

But unaware of that, the boy in his patchy dinosaur costume climbed on top of the machine and with his eyes wide open and his heart racing he connected the Brain Enhancer to his system. Then, with his hand sweating, he pushed a button on a remote he was clutching to.

When Bjorn, alerted by Loki’s screams, rushed into the laboratory, it was way too late.

As his terrified father was calling the ambulance, the child was alive and even still awake. He was too weak to cry. He just watched Bjorn, wishing for death and looking for signs of wrath in father’s eyes.

There were none. Only fear.

Physically, Loki Beaker managed to recover just fine. With the power of advanced medicine and plastic surgery, the burns he suffered were reduced to nothing but almost invisible scars.

But inside, he was never the same. Literally. Even though the procedure backfired horribly, it still worked to some extend - but even that extend was warped. Loki succeeded in giving himself the Genius trait but several of his traits were replaced also, including the Lucky trait that probably saved his life.

6: Conclusion!

I like Loki very much. (no sh*t, who would’ve guessed) He’s a very controversial and over-the-top character who tends to be rather unpredictable in the actual gameplay. I started writing this giant thing to find an answer to his backstory that would satisfy me and hopefully also some of you.

With a heavy heart I conclude I’m not successful.

First I have to admit I originally planned to present 5 theories instead of 3 but I scrapped 2 of them.

First was about Atom time traveling and replacing Loki, creating himself again and again in a time loop (would explain the huge personality difference between smol Loki and Loki-Atom) and it was very far-fetched but fun, alas I realized it was out of character for Atom, since he seems to love his sister and his Plumbot so much he would hardly leave them behind to pull that off.

The second was about Nervous and the corrupting power of Death he has inside that would slowly drive Loki and Circe “evil” even though it’s unclear whether they first adopted him with being a lab-rat in mind. But it would not make sense since a change like that would be visible on their personality panels. That’s not that important, though. What made me not include this theory is that it feels uncomfortably victim blame-y. It’s not directly since it wouldn’t be Nervous’ fault anyway but any attempt to shift the blame from Loki and Circe in this situation feels uncomfortable.

(To be clear, I don’t think the Beakers deserve demonization. In my opinion, the best way to treat them narrative-wise is like eccentric people capable of feeling love and doing good things sometimes, yet irredeemably self-centered, morally bankrupt and deserving a lifetime in jail for child abuse they have done on Nervous. Not one-dimensional but still villains and still objectively bad people.)

And those 3 theories above? They could’ve been better.

I think I like the first the most, even though I still feel like something is missing. I just tend to like relatively grounded explanations and this one doesn’t feature the supernatural nor any deus ex machina gadget.

What about you? And do you have any other theories? Sky’s the limit! It’ll make my day to hear them!

Whatever your takes are, they’re all valid.

#loki beaker #strangetown #premades #the sims 2 #the sims #simbrl #headcanon #ts2

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imherongraystairstrash · 3 years

Note

Hello there you beautfiul blog user and writer! If you are open to accept prompts or to get ideas to future fics may I suggest a fic of lil Christopher Lightwood and when their parents found out he needed some glasses? I love how well you write him

Hello beautiful Anon!! Thank you so much for the request! It's called August for literally no reason whatsoever, btw. Anyway here’s little Kit getting his first pair of distance glasses (as a user of said glasses, I’m drawing from personal experiences).

August

Characters: Christopher Lightwood, Gabriel Lightwood & Cecily Lightwood/Herondale

...

“Good, Kit,” Gabriel said from where he was kneeling beside the small boy.

His son smiled up at him with wide, blue eyes—that looked lilac purple in the sunlight—and put down his bow. “Did I get it in the centre?”

“Almo—” Gabriel furrowed his eyebrows, “What do you mean? Can’t you see the target?”

Kit squinted his eyes. “A tiny bit. But I can’t see the arrow.”

Gabriel’s confusion grew. “Son,” he said, standing and walking a couple of metres away from where he was standing. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three.”

Gabriel was indeed holding up three fingers. “Hm.” He said. “I guess you couldn’t possibly need new glasses.”

Christopher shrugged.

“Perhaps your current glasses are interfering. Here, take them off.”

Kit obliged. He looked at the arrow and fumbled with the string, trying to see where the arrow’s tail was.

“Papa, I’m getting dizzy.” He said.

“Oh, then never mind, put them back on.” Gabriel said, quickly, not wanting Christopher to get a headache.

Once Kit adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, both of them stood there, thinking about what they should do.

“Can we just continue training?” Kit asked.

“Yes,” Gabriel said, a relieved smile on his face.

…

“Are you teaching our five-year-old son how to shoot a bow and arrow?” Cecily asked from the doorway, a while later.

Gabriel glanced at her momentarily and nodded.

Cecily leaned her hip against the doorframe and crossed her arms. “Is he good?”

“His form is exceptional, but he can’t seem to shoot it to the center.”

“Well,” Cecily said, walking inside and kneeling down beside her son. He did, in fact, have perfect form, something he somehow must have inherited from his father. “He doesn’t have to excel at it.”

“Of course not.” Gabriel said. “I’m just confused.”

Kit shot the arrow and skipped over to the target. “It’s closer!” He said turning to his parents excitedly.

“Wonderfully done, Kit bach,” Cecily said, smiling widely.

Gabriel sighed at how naturally Cecily could speak to their children and encourage them. Whenever he tried it, he felt awkward. Will sometimes teased him at times over how he couldn’t train children. Cecily told him to just treat them as though he were training adolescents or adults, that his children won’t think anything of him being less enthusiastic.

“Why is he walking up to the target?” Cecily asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“He says he can’t see it well.”

Cecily craned her head to look at him. “He probably needs glasses.”

“He already has glasses.” Gabriel pointed out.

“Other types of glasses, you nitwit. Ones for long distances. Didn’t that cross your mind?”

“It did! I even checked to see if he needed them.”

“How?”

“I held up some fingers and he could see them just fine.” Gabriel said, defensively.

Cecily gave him the you’re-a-fool face. “Of course he can bloody see your fingers! That’s not a proper test as to whether he can see or not!” she said, exasperated.

“Then how do we test it?” Gabriel asked.

Cecily set Kit’s bow and took hold of his hand, pulling him along. “We leave it to the experts.”

…

He has Myopia as well as Hyperopia. I’d even say he is more nearsighted than farsighted.

“What does that mean?” Gabriel whispered to Cecily.

“I don’t know,” Cecily mouthed.

Brother Jeremiah looked into Christopher’s eyes, and Gabriel had the urge to go to his son and spare him the sight. Christopher shifted from where he was sitting, trying to look at his parents. Jeremiah put a hand on his chin to keep his gaze on him, so that he could see his eyes better. Cecily took Gabriel’s hand as if to say, calm down; he’ll be alright.

Gabriel squeezed it back and watched as Jeremiah closed the lids of Kit’s eyes and hovered his fingers over them.

He must have told Kit to open his eyes, because suddenly they flew open.

Gabriel didn’t understand the procedure The Brothers used for checking eyesight. All he knew was that after a while, Brother Jeremiah took Kit’s glasses and turned to Gabriel and Cecily, waiting for one of them to follow him.

Cecily used Gabriel’s knee to get up and went with Brother Jeremiah to get the glasses fixed while Gabriel stayed with Christopher.

Gabriel walked over to his son and sat down next to him.

“Well, son, I’ll admit that I have no idea what’s wrong with your glasses.” He said with a half smile.

“I can’t see far away.” Kit said. “Myopia means my eyes are curved differently, so they can’t focus the light normally. So, I can’t see from far away as well as up close.”

Gabriel turned to him, surprised. “How did you know that?”

“Uncle Henry explained it to me.” He said, shrugging. “I wanted to know why I needed glasses in the first place.”

Gabriel ruffled his hair. “You always know the right questions to ask, don’t you, ducks?”

He didn’t know how he ended up with a son like Christopher, who had such a sharp mind at so young. The reason as to why some people needed glasses had never crossed his mind, but Kit’s mind seemed to always be working, questioning why things and people were the way they were. Some people thought that Christopher was absent-minded, but Gabriel knew that it was because his brain was constantly working, not engaging in the current conversation, because it paled in comparison to what he was thinking about, or because there were too many things going on at once.

He looked at his son, who was looking up at him with wide eyes and his head tilted to the side. He looked like his beautiful mother in that small gesture.

“Can you even see me?” Gabriel asked, with a smile.

“Not really. You’re a little blurry.”

“Blurry.”

“A Papa-looking blur.”

Gabriel laughed out loud as Cecily came inside.

“We’re in luck,” She announced. “The Brother’s have temporary glasses with Christopher’s exact prescription that he can use while his are being fixed.” She came over with said glasses and carefully put them on Kit.

They immediately slipped down his nose.

“I think they’re a bit too big.” Gabriel said.

“Well, it’s that or he doesn’t see.” Cecily said, laughing.

…

“Do you like Kit’s temporary glasses, Cecy?” Gabriel asked, knowing perfectly well that she adored them.

“He is the most adorable little thing that’s walked the planet.” Cecily said, glancing at Christopher, who was lagging a bit behind them, staring at the witchlight stones as they passed by them, walking out of the Basilias.

“Enjoy it while you can,” Gabriel said, opening the doors for the others to go out, “next week he gets his actual glasses back.”

“Don’t remind me,” Cecily said mournfully.

Gabriel held out his hand for Christopher to take, and was surprised when he didn’t take it.

Gabriel looked down and realized that he wasn’t even there. “Kit?” he asked.

Cecily and Gabriel both stopped and turned around. Christopher stood frozen a couple of steps behind them, his jaw hanging open as he stared up at the trees.

“What’s the matter, Kit?” Cecily asked.

“I can see each individual leaf.” He mumbled. “If I wanted to, I could count them all!” He looked up at his mother with a huge grin on his face.

Cecily had always had a soft spot for her son, but with the oversized frames on his small head, the bridge slipping down his nose occasionally, Cecily felt her heart melting.

“You could,” she said, holding out a hand for him to take. “But then you’d miss all of the other beautiful things you can now see.”

Christopher took her hand, casting a long look at the tree before following her.

There was a slight skip to his step as he looked around, taking in the world, his gaze always returning to the trees, which seemed to be the most fascinating revelation.

“Are you going to go back home and practice archery with your father?” Cecily asked.

Kit nodded happily.

Cecily didn’t think Gabriel really understood that Kit only really liked archery because it was time he could spend with his father. He was always nervous in anything that had to do with fatherhood, terrified that he’d end up like Benedict.

Cecily had told him time and time again that his children will love him unconditionally, unless he gave them reason not to, but she also knew that it was hard for Gabriel. His relationship with his father was a mixture of love and abuse, the line between the two becoming so unnoticeable, that Gabriel had a hard time telling the difference.

Cecily had faith in him, however. Especially as she looked at Gabriel and Kit in front of her, the latter sitting on the former’s shoulders, taking his glasses on and off, comparing the way he could see without glasses and the way he could see with them on.

Christopher turned around. “Mama, I can see the entire world!” He held his arms out wide, a wide grin on his face, as though he were presenting its beauty.

Cecily laughed and put a hand on his back, “Yes, bach, the world is a beautiful place, isn’t it?” She looked at Gabriel. He took her hand, kissing the back of it and let their interlaced hands swing between them as they walked back home.

...

Tagging: @tsccreatorsnet @atla-lok143 @rinadragomir @youngreckless @autumnangel20 @julemmaes @cupcakesandkittens @no-scones-allowed @fictionally-fantastic @stxr-thxif @writeforjordelia @itsdaughterofthemoon @jordeliasupremacy @cordelia-cardale @will-effing-herondale @axoloteca @heronstairs2014 @ilovemanicures

If you want to be on my tag list, or if you changed your url recently and your not in the tag list anymore, let me know! Also, if you want to be removed, send me a dm! I won’t be offended in the slightest :) Oh, and if you asked to be on the tag list and you’re not on it, please tell me (I’m very absentminded lol).

#christopher lightwood #gabriel lightwood #cecily lightwood #cecily x gabriel #tsc #gabrily #tlh #tlh fanfiction #tid #tid fanfiction #tsc fanfiction

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jadethest0ne · 3 years

Text

In need of Refueling, Chapter 12 - “He was supposed to be”

Summary: “You?! Why would I trust you? You have brought me nothing but failure. Time and time again; nothing but disappointment!”

His father’s words might have been a result of his possession by the White Bone Spirit, but whether or not they were his true thoughts, Red Son vows to prove them wrong. To do so he seeks to attain a power strong enough to destroy his father’s immortal enemy. After all, he’d much rather throw fire at his problems.

Word Count: 3241

Ratings/Warnings: Teen and up; injury, burns, angst and hurt/comfort, toxic thoughts caused by toxic parents, panic attacks, abuse

Notes: Red Son is brooding, Mei finds out that Red Son is Sandy’s house guest, and Sandy is trying his best to deal with two rowdy teens.

Credits: Big thanks to @painted-arachnid and @simplyfornardo for helping me bounce ideas off of them. And also thanks to @lemonsqueazie for providing me with “Journey to the West” lore. I don’t know much about the original novel or other iterations, but I still tried to keep some things compliant with the lore. You should check all of them out, since they’re really great content creators with neat ideas!

Read on AO3

———-

All in all, Red Son had received a lot of injuries from his conflict with his father. Broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, a broken arm, burns, hypothermia (including a lingering cold sensation all over his body that refused to go away), a sprained ankle...

And no powers.

That last one gave him pause. Injuries could be healed with time, and as a demon, he was a fast healer. But he did not know what happened to his powers. Were they really all absorbed by his father’s armor? Were they then extinguished by whatever that Noodle Boy did? He didn’t even know that it could be extinguished. It had to have been though, because based on what little he could get out of Sandy, the Monkey King had survived the conflict. Red Son isn’t sure how he feels about that. Sure, he had attacked him and intended to have him defeated by his father. But that’s not how things turned out. That’s not what his father wanted. And despite him giving the Samadhi Fire to his father, which is what he thought he wanted, that turned out to be disastrous as well. Were his parents even alive? And if they were, what would they want with someone who had nearly gotten them killed? What would they want with a son who didn’t even have any powers? In this state he was useless. Relying on the enemy, no less. How shameful.

Red Son had tried a few times to activate his powers. Each time he was met with not even a puff of smoke. If his parents thought he was a disappointment before, what would they think of him now?

At the very least he was making progress physically, and could hobble around the houseboat a little bit on his own. The Blue One said he could leave when he was better. But where could he go? He didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to just be able to do something about it. But he could no longer simply throw fire at his problems. And no matter what anger and vitriol he sent Sandy’s way, the blue giant simply refused to be upset at him. Why didn’t he just kick him out? He certainly deserved it! His own parents likely wouldn’t want him around, why would an enemy?

So when he wasn’t yelling at Sandy, or his numerous cats, he just withdrew into himself. Fuming with no fire. Brooding over his current situation. What was the point anyway? A small part of him wanted to know if his parents were okay. As much as he was sure they would hate him, they were his parents, after all. But the thought of trying to find them terrified him in a way. On one hand, if they were alive, he was useless to them like this. If they weren’t… well, he didn’t want to think about how that would mean that it was his fault if they were dea--

Red Son angrily throws the closest thing near him across the room, which happened to be a mug of tea that he was holding. It flies across the room just missing a few cats who leap out of the way with an indignant hiss. The cup breaks apart and spills its contents all over the floor. He takes some seething breaths, before a voice speaks up next to him.

“Well that’s a much stronger throw than before. At least you’re healing!” Red Son had forgotten that the Blue One was there. He had given him the tea in the first place after all. Red Son had just gotten lost in his musings and forgot about the ever-present, overly pleasant companion. The big man goes over and gets a broom. “However, maybe we could find other, more constructive, ways for you to release your anger?”

“Ugh! Don’t try to give me life lessons! What are you, some sort of life advice guru?”

The Blue One laughs heartily, while picking out some of the larger shards. “No, I’ve just learned how to control my anger via anger management therapy. And I’m always open to listening if you want a friendly ear,” he says brightly.

Red Son can’t imagine this guy ever being angry, and the idea of talking about his feelings makes his stomach bubble in disgust. “What? So I can give away all my family’s secrets? Why would you care anyway?”

The Blue One shrugs. “I just do!” He pauses and thinks. “And also, maybe I could ask you to maybe not throw my cups and scare my cats…?” He ends the last part in a hopeful lilt.

“No promises,” Red Son grumbles.

“What do you normally do to de-stress?”

“Destroy my enemies.” Red Son looks pointedly at Sandy.

“Ah… um… would throwing fire around (preferably in a contained area) help?” Sandy asks hesitantly.

Red Son scowls. “No.”

“Would you like to try contacting your parents…?”

An uncomfortable flutter pangs in his heart. “No.”

“What about, er, a hobby or…?

Red Son is getting fed up. “WOULD YOU JUST STOP!” he shouts. “We are not friends! We are enemies! You are the good guys! I’m the bad guy! The villain. Stop trying to be all buddy-buddy with me! If you’re trying to change me or get me to open up, it’s not going to work!”

“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to figure out what would make you feel better… Maybe healing up at your place would make you feel safer…?” Sandy looks truly apologetic, but Red Son is already too worked up to care. Furthermore, bringing up the possibility of going to see his parents causes that fluttering feeling to worsen.

“No! I can’t go back! I--”

Sandy raises his eyebrows. And Red Son shuts his mouth suddenly realizing what he almost revealed. The Blue One nearly had done it! How dare he. He hates him for that. For his stupid honest niceness. He hates that he is here. That he let down his father, again. That he has to rely on a big-hearted idiot of an enemy. He needs to leave. He doesn’t have anywhere to go. But he needs to leave.

He clumsily slips out of bed and does an awkward combination of stomping and limping past the Blue One and towards the door, ignoring the giant’s protests.

He swings open the door and he sucks in a surprised yelp as standing on the other side of it is a girl with green highlights in her hair, and pigtails sticking up from behind, with her fist to the door poised to knock on it. It’s the Dragon Girl. The two stare at each other. They exchange blinks of confusion.

The Dragon Girl is the first to react. Her surprised features shift into a look of pure rage. “YOU!” she shouts.

She flings herself at Red Son, elbowing him in the middle and throwing him across the room. Pain explodes from his various injuries, especially from his ribs and chest area. He crumples to the ground and barely has time to react as she is pulling a sword on him. He rolls out of the way, under a table and pulls himself up using an adjacent book case. He slips a little bit, and is forced to put weight on his injured ankle, which burns horribly, but he needs to get away from this crazy and enraged attacker.

He leans on the far end of the bookcase and holds up a hand. “W-wait!” he wheezes out before he devolves into coughs and choking gasps. He stumbles as he backpedals away from another swing and falls again to the floor. He grabs desperately at anything in his surroundings that can help pull him up, but the pain drags him back down again.

The tip of the sword is pointed at his center and he flinches back. He can’t do much but cough some more. When no attack comes, he chances a look up at his attacker. She’s looking at him with a paranoid gaze, which flickers up and down in confusion, but she does not lower her weapon.

“What are you doing here, Red Son?!” she yells.

Red Son does his best to regain his breath. When he does he shouts back, though not as loud or as strong as he wants it to be. “I was brought here, Dragon Girl! By your blue friend, no less! So- so back off or I’ll burn you to a crisp!”

The threat is empty. He knows it is. And even if she doesn’t, she knows she has the upper hand. He can’t hide his injuries or look powerful, half curled up on the floor and locked down by her sword. But he won’t appear weak. Not to her.

“Mei!” calls the Blue One, as he stands up from the floor, stepping carefully over the glass on the floor and rushing into the adjacent area to move between the girl and the demon.

“Sandy! Are you okay? What is Red Son doing here? Is he hurting you? Is he--”

“He’s injured!” Sandy says with some amount of exasperation quickly shuffling over and kneeling down by Red Son’s side. He puts a hand on the demon’s back and offers another for him to take to support him. Red Son stays silent and looks down, as Sandy helps him up.

“What?!” Pure incredulity drips from the Dragon Girl’s voice. “Are- are you helping him?!”

When he’s able to set Red Son upright, and leans him against a nearby cabinet, he looks to the girl and rubs the back of his head absently. “Er, yes, I am.”

She continues to give him a questioning look.

“He was hurt!” Sandy says simply. “I had to, Mei.”

The girl looks between the two of them, before sighing and lowering her sword. “I was wondering why we hadn’t heard from you much.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys. I was hoping to tell you first instead of you finding out this way. Are you… mad?” The big man looks small, like a child revealing that they had snuck a cookie out of a cookie jar.

“It’s not you I’m upset at, it’s him. I don’t trust him. You could get into trouble. What if the Demon Bull family comes and attacks you? What if he burns down the houseboat?!” Red Son gets dizzy at the range of emotions that cross the girl’s features and body language as she talks, from a distrusting glance to panicky waving arms to exaggerated sweeps of her entire body. He remembers why he finds this group so annoying. And even moreso, he is annoyed at being left out of the conversation.

“Excuse me, I am standing right here!” he says with as much afront as he can muster.

“That’s the problem, Red Boy!”

“It’s Red Son to you, Dragon Girl!”

“Oh and now who is getting the names wrong?”

“I don’t stoop to uttering the names of peasants!”

“Shut up! You shouldn’t even be here! Do you know how much pain you caused! Sandy is here helping you, and you don’t deserve any of it!”

“Now now--” Sandy tries interjecting, but is caught in the middle of a now shouting match.

“That’s because you’re all so styoooopidly sappy! I’m GLAD I attacked you! You weaklings are too noble for your own good!” A smile spreads on his face seeing he’s getting under the girl's skin. It made him feel stronger. Shouting let out his pent up frustration from earlier. And banter with the Noodle Boy’s friends made things feel normal for once.

Mei shouts back at Red Son, contempt and hatred dripping from her words. "You hurt my friend! You nearly destroyed the Monkey King!!! You and your dumb dad! I bet DBK is proud of you!"

Red Son’s smile drops immediately and something in him snaps at the mention of his father, and before he can stop himself, the words come out. "HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE!"

There is a beat of silence and Red Son had a moment to realize what he said. He hadn't meant to bring up his father in such a way. How weak is he that he keeps revealing his inner thoughts to his enemies? His heart hammers against his ribs in shame and embarrassment, and he’s about to babble out some excuse, when the Dragon Girl speaks instead.

"He was supposed to be what? Destroyed?"

What?

"Well, you know what? You failed to destroy the Monkey King. And it was the Monkey Kid who beat both of you!"

A spark of relief lights in Red Son's chest. The girl thinks he was talking about the Monkey King. Not his father. She had misunderstood his shout. He pushes down his shock and embarrassment, and forces a well-practiced sneer onto his lips. "Y-yes! The Monkey King was supposed to be destroyed! You just got lucky, that's all!"

The girl gives him a hate-filled look. Just the way it should be.

But when he looks over at Sandy, he sees confusion. And… sadness? Perhaps a bit of worry. Well, they should be worried and sad and angry at him! They should both be afraid. And weakened or not, Red Son isn't going to let them forget that he is still a force to be reckoned with!

He fixes the Dragon Girl with what he hopes looks like a dangerous scowl. "Next time I'll be more thorough in my destruction!"

The girl doesn't look quite as frightened as Red Son would've hoped, but at the very least she clamps her loud mouth shut. She then sighs and turns to Sandy. "I don't know why you helped him. I don't think this is the kind of guy who can be saved."

Red Son's chest burns uncomfortably. It must be because of that shove she gave him earlier, exacerbating his wounds, and not the hopelessness of her statement.

Sandy shrugs and replies simply, “I've got to try, don't I?"

The girl's lips spread in a small smile of understanding and pats the large man's arm. "Yeah, and that's what's cool about you, my friend."

Sandy beams widely. But his expression switches to nervousness. "You won't tell the others, will you, Mei?"

She quirks an eyebrow up and gives him a look. "Sandy, MK is my best friend. I tell him practically everything," she deadpans.

Sandy wilts a bit, but the girl gives him another reassuring pat and says, "But I'll ask them to leave him alone…,” she shoots Red Son a dark look as she finishes her statement, “...for now.” Switching back to something more friendly, she returns her attention to Sandy. "So you better come clean yourself, soon, and give us a better explanation."

"Of course!" Sandy brightens.

With that the girl exits the houseboat, leaving Red Son and Sandy alone.

There is silence between them. Sandy looks at Red Son, and the demon does his best to not notice.

“Did she hurt you much?” Sandy sounds both worried and a bit embarrassed.

“I’m fine.” Red Son says too quickly.

Sandy comes closer and reaches a hand towards him. Red Son flinches back and the motion causes his whole body to wobble. Before he can fall back down, Sandy catches him. Red Son goes stiff and Sandy makes sure to give him some room once he regains his footing.

“Sorry.” Sandy shifts where he stands. “I noticed that one of your bandages is loose.” He gestures to a bandage on his wrist. “I may have to check you over again and re-do your bandages… If that’s okay…?”

Red Son’s chest burns again. He hates this. But he nods anyway. “Okay.”

Slowly, Sandy goes about washing and re-bandaging Red Son’s wounds. Luckily nothing was hurt too badly, but some bandages did come loose during the scuffle, and a few deeper burns had to be cared for.

They stayed mostly silent throughout much of it. Until Sandy finally spoke up. “Did you mean what you said earlier? About how ‘he was supposed to be.’” He was sitting behind Red Son working on some of the bandages on his back, and Red Son was glad for this so he didn’t see his eyes widen in alarm.

“Of- of course! I definitely meant to destroy the Monkey King and bring him to my father as a prize.” Red Son tries to keep his voice steady.

Sandy is silent for a moment as if trying to find his words. “Were you really talking about the Monkey King then? Not… someone else?”

“I-- don’t know what you mean…” The words come out stiff and stilted.

“I thought…” he began, before giving a sigh. “I guess I misinterpreted what you were saying.”

“Yes, I suppose you did.” Red Son answers curtly.

After a bit more silence Sandy continues. “Have you made any progress with your powers…?”

Red Son twists around suddenly giving Sandy a wide-eyed stare. “How did you know about my powers!?” The movement hurts, but the ache of sudden vulnerability is worse.

“I noticed you trying to throw some fireballs and stuff over the past few days… And also you didn’t attack Mei. Or me, for that matter. So I just… guessed”

Red Son feels small. Like the world is pressing in around him. The Blue One’s large form, not helping. And the pain radiating from his wounds makes the sensation worse. He pushes himself away from the blue giant as he starts shivering again, the cold suddenly feeling more apparent. Everything is suddenly fuzzy, like when he first noticed that his powers were gone. But now Sandy knew, and his friends might find out. And if they found out, then maybe his parents would know. They’d know just how weak he was. His chest is pulsing with pain and he isn’t sure why. It feels like the Dragon Girl hitting him over and over again.

Warmth is suddenly draped around him. The downy sensation of a comforter holds his form. He notices that his breaths are rapid and that’s what was hurting his chest. “Breathe,” a voice calls. So he obeys. Slowly, his breaths return to normal. The blankets surrounding him give the feeling of being cradled, but not trapped, and the warmth brings his trembling to a minimum.

“Red Son,” the voice he now recognizes as Sandy calls. “Do you hear what I am saying?”

The demon looks up, meeting the Blue One’s eyes, and gives a short nod.

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to. I don’t think you are weak. You are just injured and healing, and that’s okay. I won’t tell anyone,” Sandy’s calm voice is reassuring. But Red Son worries about how much he might’ve just babbled.

Sandy gives him a few more moments to calm down before talking to him again. “I finished working on your bandages. I can get you some tea if you want.” Then he gives a small knowing smile at him. “If you promise not to throw the mug…”

Red Son looks the gentle giant up and down. He slowly shifts into a more comfortable and relaxed position on the bed, and huddles down into the blankets more. He doesn’t smile, but he sounds and feels more like himself in his response. “No promises.”

Sandy’s smile reaches his eyes and he goes off to make more tea.

Red Son manages to not throw the mug this time.

start || <– previous // next –>

#lmk #lego monkie kid #monkie kid #in need of refueling #red son #sandy #mei #angst #hurt/comfort #comfhurt #injury #panic attacks #fanfiction #lmk fanfic #lmk fanfiction #my writing #jadethest0ne #inor

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crimsonrae · 3 years

Text

Disintegration

Chapter Two

Summary: He witnessed the worst night of her life, he just never expected for her to become the love of his life.

KlausxCami

Warnings: Mentions of Domestic Abuse.

Rating: Mature

Chapter Two

2009

Amber liquid sat almost tauntingly within its iced tumbler as Camille stared aimlessly at the wall. Low chattering echoed dimly in her ears, but she registered little of the subdued crowd. She felt angry... no, she felt numb. Like a spindly serpent lying in wait for its prey, her anger lurked beneath the surface – its coil hardly tolerable.

Her fingers clenched around her glass, silently reveling in the wet dew that had coalesced on its exterior. It anchored her to the present even as she drifted in her scattered thoughts. Small bursts of Saturday played in her head, stuck like a broken reel. It was both a blur and all too clear. She could still feel the slick feel of Scott's blood on her hands, even as quips of conversation broke her reverie. Hours spent in the county jail had been nothing compared to the cold words from her mother and the stony silence that had followed her back to her dorm.

It had all become too much. She needed to get out.

It had occurred to her there was a certain amount of irony that she had taken refuge inside a bar. Not the one that she had beaten Scott to a pulp in – she was firmly banned from that establishment, but one across town. Away from campus and anyone who knew her. Camille tried not to pay too much mind to the fact that she was employing less than stellar coping mechanisms over the mess she had made of her life, but really, she was already on a roll of bad decisions. Why stop now?

Still...it was amazing how quickly everything had spiraled out of control.

One minute she had been a junior, set to finish her bachelor's degree with honors in the next year – now, with a court date set for next week and a meeting with the Dean's office tomorrow, it looked as if expulsion was on the horizon. And somehow that was at the bottom of her priority list. Felony assault and battery charges hovered over her head like an impending noose, not to mention, two parents infuriated with their daughter and the shame she had brought her family. She hardly cared that Scott was breathing from a tube in a hospital, she did care that Marnie hadn't called her.

Had she lost a friend as well as her academic career? She hadn't foreseen that... though, in truth, she hadn't put much thought into her actions. She had simply reacted and that – that wasn't like her.

"Penny for your thoughts, love."

Camille nearly jolted at the honey grizzled voice that chimed next to her table. She glanced up into a pair of oddly familiar cerulean eyes that shined curiously at her. It took her a moment to place him, and it was only as his lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk that she remembered.

He had been there.

Entertained by the entire debacle.

Now, that's what I call a show.

Her hidden ire rumbled in the face of her spectator. How she had hated his delight. It annoyed her that he had found her now when she wanted nothing more than to be left alone.

Pursing her lips distastefully, she arched a brow, "They're not for sale."

Her irritation was not lost on Klaus, if anything her dismissal amused him, "Come now, that's not true. Anything is for sale; it all depends on the price."'

"Well unless you have a time machine, I don't think you'll be able to afford my thoughts." Camille muttered wearily as she sipped from her glass. She pointedly turned her gaze away, making it silently clear she was done with him.

Yet, Klaus had never been one to let a challenge go untested. He found himself slipping into the chair across from her, much to Camille's exasperation, "Now why would you want a time machine? Please tell me, it's not to go back and stop yourself from beating that pillock from the other night half to death. Such passion should never be undone or regretted."

Camille arched a brow, nonplused by his words, "Not everyone views such acts of violence with the same enjoyment as you did... I don't believe that I invited you to sit. I'm not particularly in the mood for company."

"Yes, you've been quite rude." Klaus intoned almost cheerfully as he signaled for a waiter – now he was making it silently clear that he had no intention to leave, "That's alright, I don't mind a bit of surliness. I've been known to be a rather temperamental creature myself... but let's be honest here, love, while I may have enjoyed your spirited attack, you enjoyed committing it more."

She hated the truth that rang in his words. Stifling a sigh, Cami tossed back the rest of her drink and dropped a few bills on the table. She came here to get away, not to be harassed.

She wasn't granted the chance to stand as his fingers entrapped her wrist, "Let me go."

"Stay." Klaus implored, loosening his grip, but not removing his touch, "I won't speak of your little... incident if you do not wish it. I have several hours to kill, and you are by the far the most interesting person I've run into today. Please, keep me company."

Despite her desire to depart, her curiosity glimmered faintly at his words, "Is that why you seemingly tracked me down? Boredom?"

"Hardly tracked you down, love." Klaus said after placing an order for two more drinks with the waiter. "You're in the pub of my hotel. Merely, came downstairs and saw you."

Camille blinked before she sat back and viewed the bar through new eyes. There was an entranceway toward the back that she now realized led into a lobby. Marble floors and polished banisters gleamed through the glass door. It fairly screamed expensive. It also explained the quietness of a bar... the stillness that had drawn her inside.

Klaus watched her perusal with muted amusement, "You have no idea where you are. Not that you're in a bad neighborhood, mind you, but it is foolish to not have your bearings about you."

Camille silently stifled her unease as again his words rang true. A sense of danger lurked with his presence that she was only beginning to acknowledge, but something kept her survival instincts from fully sounding off.

"I wasn't really..." She trailed off as she realized her words would only reinforce his point about being foolish.

He knew it too.

His head tilted to the side and his eyes softened with an understanding that she swore he shouldn't have. It was similar to the way he had looked at her as she had been carted off by the police... Cami didn't understand why it had seemed to soothe and irritate her then, and she still didn't understand it now.

"Running away, were you?" Klaus intoned sagely, "I know a fair bit about that, but you don't strike me as the type to run from a situation. What demons plague you, aside from the obvious?"

Cami snorted and wondered if this counted as talking about her incident, but found herself replying, "Demons is a bit harsh... and why would I tell you, Nosey Stranger, anything about my demons?"

Klaus grinned and was stalled from answering as their drinks arrived, "Well conversation is easier when at least one party opens up, no? And you can call me Klaus. Niklaus Mikaelson."

"Cami." She returned softly, "Why don't we focus on you, instead? What brings you to my little corner of the word, Klaus?"

"I am not nearly that interesting."

"I somehow doubt that."

"Doubt all you like, but I could say the same of you."

"Could you?" Cami said almost teasingly as a smirk tugged at her lips.

Klaus huffed a low laugh as he conceded, "Well, I could if you told me about yourself."

They were flirting, Cami noted distantly as they exchanged not-quite-shy smiles again. Her head spun – how had this happened? She had been thoroughly annoyed with this man not even ten seconds ago. And while some of that sentiment still lurked, she now could only think about how handsome he looked when he smiled... actually smiled, not smirked.

One thing was for certain, she wasn't feeling quite so numb anymore... and she wasn't sure that was necessarily a good thing. Despite how handsome the man before her was or how charming he was turning out to be, she had the distinct impression that she was a match strike away from playing with fire.

"How about a question for a question?" She proposed almost absently and nearly cursed as soon as the words left her tongue.

Klaus considered her offer with shrewd eyes, "Any question?"

A reluctant sigh left Cami, "Let me guess, you have a question about Saturday night?"

"A few." Klaus acknowledged with a sly quirk to his lips, "But mainly one pressing one."

She shook her head and dragged the untouched drink he had bought her to her side. If they were going to play this game she would need the alcohol, "Fine. Ask."

"What did he do?" Klaus asked quietly as she hesitated, her glance almost suspicious – he explained, "In two minutes of conversation, I've ascertained that you are not a rash person. A bit foolhardy perhaps, but you've been moderately cautious since I've engaged your interest. You also don't strike me as the type to attack someone without reason. So, what was your reason? What did he do?"

There was a long silence as Camille gauged what she wanted to impart. Several glib answers rested on her tongue, non-answers that would dismiss his question and move their conversation on, but the truth burned in her throat. It would be nice to tell someone who didn't know her, who didn't know Scott or Marnie, who wasn't there to judge her actions as just or fair what her motivation had been...

"I have a roommate. We've roomed together the last three years – and she's great. Sweet, shy. I couldn't have picked a better roommate... or friend." Camille started quietly. She ignored the lick of angry flames that sparked in her belly, "She met him a few months ago and they hit it off immediately. I liked him. He was funny and he brought her out of her shell."

A wave of nausea swarmed her simmering fury and she paused as she remembered the carefree way Scott would greet her. The little presents that he would bring for Marnie. Those gifts seemed so more insidious now that she realized those parcels showed up after every incident.

Klaus waited patiently, somehow knowing not to speak as she sought the proper words. Her jade eyes had deepened to a sparking emerald, imbued with dark emotion.

"Then one day she came back to our room. Her shirt was covered in blood, a plaster taped over her nose, and two black eyes. He had hit her. Only once she said. It was an accident she said, but he broke her nose." Camille swallowed and resisted the urge to ball her fist, "She refused to go to the RA or the Dean or any other official and just waved me off. It wouldn't happen again, and I knew that was bullshit. I knew..."

The shiver of rage in her tone struck a chord within Klaus as he watched her. Any hint of his earlier joviality and curiosity had vanished in the face of her anguish. His own anger growled in answer to hers – he had never been one to shy away from violence, but brutish nonsensical abuse had always been and always would be a sore point for him.

"How many times?" The question slipped out before he could stop it.

If Camille had been paying closer attention, she would have noticed the almost eerie calm that had leveled his voice. Instead, she shook her head, "Too many."

Another sip from her glass, "He sent her to the hospital Friday night. Two broken ribs and a concussion. I had been with her all night, and I just couldn't go back to our dorm, so I wandered. I wandered and before I knew it, I was inside the campus bar and there he was... Scamming on a freshman. Both of them laughing at some stupid funny joke he had said, as if it were just another Saturday. As if he hadn't just pulverized his girlfriend and left her to rot in a hospital as if he hadn't been getting away with much of the same for months. I was so incredibly angry and all I wanted was to make him stop."

Warm skin brushed across hers and she glanced down to see he had cradled her hand. She was trembling. It was so faint, but the box that she had been stowing all her wildly out of control emotion into had been pried open with his question.

His fingers curled into her palm like an anchor into the seabed and she smiled bitterly, "Still think you received a good show?"

It took Klaus a second to remember his words from that night, but he didn't scowl.

No.

His smile was tinged with undue pride and awe, "I think you just made it even better. I had initially thought you to be some hellcat. Sent into a jealous rage at capturing your boyfriend cheating. The truth is far more satisfying. You're a protector. If anything, I stand by my earlier sentiment. Do not regret your actions, Camille."

She blinked at hearing her full name cross his lips, most assumed her name was Cameron when she introduced herself as Cami, "My name, how...?"

Klaus smirked, "Camille O'Connell, you are under arrest."

His voice was flat with an American intonation, but what part of America she was unsure as his little gimmick threw her from her despair into a baffled disquiet.

Slowly she cringed, "Okay, one – don't ever do that accent again. Just... no. Two – no one calls me, Camille, unless I'm in trouble. It's a grandma's name."

Klaus bit back a laugh as he pressed with his fake accent again, "What? You mean this voice? I think it's uh, rather convincing."

Camille shivered; it was almost like nails on a chalkboard when he spoke like that, but the tension her little story had engendered dissipated, and she felt a coil within her loosen.

She couldn't stop her snicker as she begged, "Stop, please. It's just not right. It doesn't fit you at all. Smarmy Brit is much more your style."

"Smarmy Brit?" Klause threw back almost indignantly, "You wound me, Camille."

"Somehow I think that's hard to do." She countered sagely, but she couldn't keep a grin from her mien. She appreciated his levity.

Klaus arched a brow, "You'd be surprised. Sometimes it doesn't take much at all to wound me."

"Oh?"

"A beautiful woman maligning my character five minutes after meeting me. Stings a bit, love." He answered indulgently, but there was a mischievous glint in his gaze that belied his words.

Cami giggled quietly, "You don't think you're smarmy?"

"I prefer the word charming." The faux innocent look he flashed her had them both grinning, "And I believe it is your turn to ask a question."

There were several that had erupted in her thoughts as they had spoken, but it was hard to choose just one. Part of Cami was grateful that he had lobbed such a hardball as a first question because it gave her clearance to do the same.

"What are you running away from? You said you had some experience with it earlier." Cami finally asked, figuring it would also answer the question of what he was doing here. Two answers for the price of one.

Like with Cami, Klaus sat in a long silence as he thought over his answer. Now he was the one who wished he had placed restrictions on these questions, but unlike Camille, he had no compunctions about lying. After all, they were still strangers, and he was still debating whether to continue their acquaintanceship after they parted ways. He had half a mind to seduce her, drink her, and dump her... but the more time he spent with her the less he wanted to dump her – at least right away. Camille was proving to be very intriguing indeed.

"Family. I'm running from family." Klaus announced, surprising even himself with the truth, "More specifically my father... though my brother is currently a close second."

Camille frowned, not liking the shine of pain in his eyes before he shifted to something more blank, more superficial. Perhaps her question wasn't the gem she had originally thought it to be.

At her muted concern, Klaus smiled bitterly, "My father has no love for me. Even less after it was discovered I was a product of my mother's infidelity. He's been bent on making my life a misery for as long as I can remember. The more distance I can put between him and myself the better."

"And your brother?" Cami pressed almost reluctantly, at once curious and hesitant about requesting such personal information.

"Has a great love for me actually and I, him. But I've... upset him and he needs some time to calm down." It was the most tactful way that Klaus could think to say Elijah was furious with him for daggering their siblings and supposedly dumping their bodies into the ocean. While the first part was true, the second was not... and he was not prepared for his older brother to discover that fact just yet.

An odd mildly entertained expression crossed Camille's face as she puzzled over his words. More questions surged to the forefront, but with great control, she managed to restrain herself... at least for the moment.

Klaus seemed to sense her desire as he cocked his head to the side and grinned, or she was simply terrible at hiding her thoughts, "You want more details."

Almost embarrassingly, she sipped from her glass as she fought a sheepish smile, "I really do."

"And you called me nosey? Sorry, love, you're just going to have to wait." He taunted lightly as she scowled at him.

He was saved from her retort as her phone chose that moment to sound off. Her previous merriment dulled in the face of the device's alarm and fell further as she glanced at the screen. Klaus watched as she reluctantly clicked the phone silent after responding with a text and turned remorseful eyes to him. This would be their parting it seemed.

"Such a dour glance. My last question then, who's beckoning you?" Klaus asked gently, an unexpected jolt of jealousy scoured his veins at her answer.

"My boyfriend." She quirked her lips self-consciously. She had no obligation to inform him of her relationship status and their conversation while personal, had always meant to stay a conversation... at least on her end. Yet, she felt a strange sense of guilt – she felt like she had led him on, "I should be going. It was nice to meet you, Klaus... and thank you for the drink."

Klaus tightened his grip over her hand, both had forgotten he had still been holding it, but now it worked in his favor. He wasn't ready for their conversation to end, "Stay, Camille. By the look on your face, it's what you would rather be doing."

Timidly, she squeezed his hand back, but her rueful smile told him that he was fighting a losing battle. He was tempted to compel her... but somehow that felt like the wrong move for this particular moment.

"He's worried about me. Everyone's worried about me. Or angry. This was a nice reprieve. One I really needed, but I have to go before that worry goes to def-con four." She said almost deprecatingly and moved to stand.

Cami was surprised when he stood with her until she felt him slip her phone from her other hand. A word of protest played on her lips at the theft, but she stayed her tongue as she watched him deftly enter his phone number. It was slightly embarrassing that he had caught her passcode pattern so easily. He must have the eyes of a hawk. He hit the call button and his phone vibrated in his pocket for a moment before going silent again.

Klaus returned her phone with a genial smile, "There. Should you need another reprieve, simply call. I'll be in town for a while and more than happy to indulge you."

"That was bold." She murmured, "Giving your number to a girl who just told you, she has a boyfriend."

He shrugged indifferently, "Fortune favors the bold, does it not?"

Cami snorted and shook her head, "Goodbye, Klaus."

"Goodbye, Camille." Klaus murmured, brushing his lips to her cheek.

The act startled her and brought a lovely blush to her smooth skin. He had no intention of this being their last encounter. Camille O'Connell would see him again. His cerulean eyes danced deviously as he watched her turn to go.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, and he was surprised to see a puckish light in her sylvan gaze, "Definitely smarmy."

Klaus choked on an unexpected laugh before he found himself calling through the pub, "Charming, love."

______________________

Hours later, Klaus remained at the little corner table in the pub. He had steadily nursed several drinks as he kept an eye out for a potential dinner – finding himself feeling pickier than usual about his fare. He was tempted to send Camille a text. She had been reluctant enough to leave that enticing her to return shouldn't have been much of a battle. He regretted not pressing his advantage earlier. They could have spent the afternoon in his bed, sated in every possible way.

Sighing in boredom, he ran an idle finger around the rim of his tumbler generating a low hum. His thoughtless gesture brought a few curious and annoyed looks from the nearby patrons, but no one had the gall to say anything. Something dark and angry lingered in Klaus's stiff presence that discouraged social interaction of any kind.

"Well, you look positively morose."

And yet not all were so cowardly.

Klaus smirked at the amused lilt that sounded behind him. He arched a brow as he awarded the young woman behind him a small smile, "Greta... you've arrived sooner than I expected. Fruitful day, love?"

"Yes and no." Greta answered loftily as she came to stand next to the table, "The witch we're looking for is proving rather difficult to scrounge up, though her boyfriend has been the source of a lot of gossip but..."

"But?" Klaus intoned softly, a dangerous edge tinging his voice. His mood for games had dissipated with the sun.

"He's in the hospital. Unconscious, someone caved his head in apparently. He would need some of your blood to be revived enough to get any information from him." She smirked, knowing how much Klaus loved to do such things, "That is if you're feeling generous."

Niklaus frowned; it would be too convenient... "What's the boyfriend's name?"

"Scott Nebroski." Greta answered simply with a raised brow.

The name had no meaning to Klaus. Camille hadn't mentioned any names when she had recounted her motives to him – and he didn't recall a name being spoken when the paramedics had arrived at the campus pub. Though to be fair, he had lost interest in the whole affair once Camille had been taken to the squad car.

Her fiery emeralds would forever be etched into his memory. There had been a moment where he had thought that she'd break from the officer's grasp and swing at him before something fragile... vulnerable had crossed her gaze and he had to fight the urge to go to her.

It had been an odd night.

"When was he attacked?"

Greta shrugged, "A couple of nights ago, I think. Some chick took a beer bottle to him. A lover's quarrel is the rumor. In which case, it should make him more willing to cooperate with us. He'd probably be looking for a little revenge."

A slow grin spread across Klaus's face – what were the odds?

"It wasn't our little witch who tore into him, love." Klaus murmured, "How long would we need to wait before you could conduct the ceremony?"

"The estival solstice isn't for almost eight weeks, that's when the spell will be at its strongest. We have some time." Greta replied softly as she watched the wheels spin in her master's head. She hadn't expected him to take the news of this current delay so well... but the calm, almost pleased smile playing at his lips spoke to plans with which she had no knowledge of, "The boyfriend?"

"He can enjoy his stay in the hospital for a while." Klaus said after a long moment. He refused to heal the cretin that had rightfully earned his beating at Camille's hands. He would not deny her victory, "Tomorrow I want you and Maddox to find out everything you can about Camille O'Connell. She's Marnie Taylor's roommate and friend... she'll lead us to our little witch."

Gently, Klaus reached out for Greta's hand, bringing her delicate fingers to his mouth as he pressed a kiss to her smooth flesh. He was feeling a tad grateful for the news she had delivered him, and she smelled sweet, like honeysuckle and ivy. His fangs edged at the inner muscle of his cheek, reinforcing his hunger... but he wouldn't bite her here.

Klaus stood and placed a few bills on the table, "Keep me company tonight."

It sounded like a request, but Greta heard the implied order to his tone. She could say no, and Klaus wouldn't bat an eye. She was under no illusion that she was more than a tool in his arsenal. Problem was, she had never been able to say no to him. Not to his power, not to his hunger, and not to his bed. She fully enjoyed being possessed by him. It was the shame that she could not possess him.

She peered slyly at him, "Merely company?"

An indulgent hum purred from Klaus's throat before he pressed his lips teasingly to the corner of her mouth, "You could never be merely anything, love... but I desire this luscious mouth of yours to be otherwise occupied."

Greta's smile turned sinful, "As you wish."

He breathed a kiss to her neck before turning to escort her upstairs. His soul ached for a taste of the hunt... something that Greta could not provide him – she was all too willing to fall into his clutches. She was decadence, chocolate, and champagne. Simply divine.

For tonight she would sate his baser urges, but tomorrow...

Tomorrow he would go after that which was not yet his. Fiery emeralds glinted in his mind's eye. Tomorrow, he would go after whiskey and smoke. Hidden passion.

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#disintegration #klaus mikaelson #Camille O'Connell #klaus x camille #the orginals fanfiction #the originals #fanifc #fanfiction #klamille

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Text

The Holly And The Ivy

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader, Sigurd/Reader, Sigurd/Margrethe

Summary: “I had this idea where Sigurd (or any of the brothers really) were to marry a Christian, but their marriage is dry and more political than anything, but Ivar is fascinated by her attitude (being opposite of him) and her love for life and simple things. He hears the reader and who she's married to talking about how she loves Christmas and he shuts her down, but Ivar decides to let her pick out a tree from the forest and put it up in the Great Hall and decorate it any way she wants. And the ending would include a kiss under mistletoe? If you can work with it.”

I’m very sorry if I dissapoint you anon, but the story was easier or smoother for me to write as a Modern!AU. I really hope you don’t mind. I can try something in the actual time period still, if you are not happy with au’s.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, passing mentions of abusive relationships (not involving any of the relationsips in the tag btw), angst, my poor attempt at holiday fics or holiday spirit. Also, a part is not smut or explicit but getting closer to it than most of my work, so that too.

A/N: I really hope I don’t dissapoint whoever requested this. Also, I made this way more complicated than it needed to be, bc I always do, and for that I’m also sorry. Hope you like this, thank you for reading!

The title is from a Christmas carol, cause why not lol

Taglist: @1950schick @youbloodymadgenius (I realized you once asked to be tagged on my Vikings works and I forgot, sorry)

“When we are done with this trip we’ll go back home.” Sigurd points out one night as you both say goodnight, in some hotel somewhere in Norway.

“Home?”

“To my mother’s, in a week. Family time and all that.”

Before you are to leave for your own room, you call out, “For Christmas?”

The blond shakes his head, “Yule. You can celebrate your Christmas when we return.”

“That’ll be after the New Year!” You complain softly, offering a smile because you cannot help it.

“I will have to deal with Ivar and my mother, you can deal with this.” Sigurd sentences, the harshness startling you and prompting you to accept the words with a nod.

He mutters a goodnight again, hesitating for a moment on his bedroom door, as if questioning whether he should say sorry or not. You choose to relieve him of that choice, going into your own room and closing the door with a quiet click.

As if it were waiting for the door to close, your phone lights up on your nightstand.

How’s Oslo?

You type a quick response,

You could just ask me if we’ll be attending your mother’s celebrations, you know.

The response takes a while longer, and you cannot help the smile that pulls at your lips.

…Are you?

I expect all those lessons of yours with Floki to come to use. I’m going to need to learn about Yule, apparently.

So I’m supposed to teach you?

Who else?

Your fiancé. Is the reply you get, so fast you think he already knew what your reply was going to be before you even sent it. After a moment, before you can even think on what to answer, another message comes through. Nvm, my brother is useless. I’ll do it.

Your lips pull into a wide and stupid smile, and God, not even the shame at the quick beating of your heart or the warmth that spreads through you could make you be any less thankful for this, if anything. For him.

Thank you. Are you going to be there by Christmas?

This time the answer takes a while longer, and the indication that he is typing appears and disappears a few times.

I don’t know. Before you can ask anything, or send anything, a new message pops up. Princess, this doesn’t get any easier. I don’t know if I can.

Tears rise in your eyes because a part of you knows you’re meant to say goodbye at the end, and every time you are reminded, either by the pain in your own chest or Ivar’s words, that you are on borrowed time; you realize that end is close than you think.

Well, in that case, Merry Christmas, Ivar.

____

You find yourself being driven to that massive and fancy house by your fiancé.

You toy with your engagement ring as the car approaches the house. You know, rationally, that you have nothing to fear. The brothers have never been mean or hurtful -well, most of them haven’t-, and Aslaug has always been courteous and kind and…incredibly performative.

A part of you never ceased to feel like an outsider looking in. Between the pariah that a stupid business practice will be made into Sigurd’s wife, and the silent and soft woman they ignore as if she were another piece of furniture, you’d much rather be the latter.

“Heavy little thing, isn’t it?” Sigurd teases as he turns off the engine, motioning with his head to the rings on your left hand.

You don’t say anything in response, simply getting out of the car in silence. You know he meant well, he always does.

But a part of you that is hopeful and childish and still looks at the snow that starts to fall lightly over the ground as some miracle that means Christmas is upon us…that part of you cannot help but feel bitter about it all. Regretful, or, maybe, resentful.

You never imagined life would be this, engagement -marriage- would be this. You thought of happiness and warmth and fidelity.

Foolish hopes, really. The hopes of a child that watched her parents dance to the light of the Christmas lights, to the music of the soft music her father hummed. Nothing but foolish hopes.

So, when Sigurd steps out and hesitates in offering you his hand, you offer a smile and take his hand in yours, choosing to appreciate that at least the man you will be forced to marry is one you might call a friend, a partner, one day.

It is easy to forget, it is easy to let your heart be light and just enjoy the adorable giggles of Björn and Torvi’s children, the sympathetic smile of Margrethe, the warm and brotherly embrace of Hvitserk.

You are sipping on wine and watching Ubbe throw Asa over his head as she yells for him to throw her higher when a presence stands by your side and a wine glass clinks with your own in silent toast.

“I know you know about Sigurd and me,” Margrethe whispers, “And I want you to know I am sorry. But…I won’t leave him, not until he asks me to.”

If a year ago someone told you that you’d spent Christmas Eve being told by your fiancé’s mistress that she refuses to stop seeing him, you would have assumed the world turned on its head.

It did, but…you still find it in you to love this world that hurts you, this life that tests you.

You offer a smile, “I know you love him. It started as…”

“Gold-digging?” The blonde supplies, a sheepish grimace on her face.

“I wouldn’t be as unkind as to-…”

“You should. That’s what it was,” Her smile loses the edge, and she falters, “At first.”

You accept her words with a nod, and another sip of your wine.

“Then as long as you are discreet, I don’t mind. Keep him happy, Margrethe, he deserves it.”

You start to walk away when she stops you with a call of your name.

“And you don’t? Deserve to be happy, I mean.”

You hesitate, faltering for a few seconds too long. Her blue eyes are big and uncharacteristically honest as they look at you.

“I…”

You take your gaze off hers, because it feels like she will know something she shouldn’t, something you don’t want her to; but your eyes betray you, it seems.

“Oh, him. Well-kept secret, that one,” She states, and when you open your mouth to argue, Margrethe shakes her head, “It’s okay, I don’t…I don’t blame you. Even if I don’t understand at all how that came to be.”

“It’s…”

“Complicated?” The blonde supplies, and you allow yourself a smile, you loosen your shoulders and close your eyes with a deep breath.

“Ivar, he…understands me.”

“But you two are nothing alike,” She states, and at your shrug, concedes, “Maybe that’s why.”

“Maybe,” You offer, and after a breath, because bitter regret at being the thing that keeps her from the man she loves chokes you for a moment, “Margrethe, I…”

“Don’t you even think of apologizing to me,” She laughs, “Gods, woman, you truly are a soft thing, aren’t you?”

“I have the privilege of being it.” You offer with a kind smile, because you’ve seen the scars, because you remember her when she was more fragile.

Margrethe shakes her head, “The burden.” She corrects, and with a soft squeeze of her free hand on your arm, she walks away.

____

It’s on the day before Christmas that the last of the Lothbrok arrives. You walk down the stairs to a very early breakfast, and jump when the front door opens to reveal Ubbe and Ivar.

He came.

“You are up early.” Ubbe comments as he passes you by, dropping a kiss on your cheek.

You greet Ubbe absently, your eyes on his brother. Numbly, you hear him say something about telling Aslaug that Ivar has come home, and quick steps carrying him up the stairs.

Your lips curve into a smile, or at least they try to, “Hi.”

“Hello, Princess,” Ivar greets, what months ago would have been a smirk curving his lips. Now, now it’s more tired and worn than anything. “Just in time for your…Christmas, right?”

You nod, feeling the stupid urge to cry, “Yeah. Means a lot, you know.”

“Well, I could feel you pouting over the phone, love,” His eyes check the stairs before he moves aided by his crutch towards you with a wince of pain -the cold, you remind yourself, the cold making his legs ache-, and once he is before you, a hand that shouldn’t feel as tender as it does cups your cheek and brings your mouth to his. “I couldn’t leave you alone here. You always find ways to embarrass yourself.”

You chuckle, burrowing your head on his chest as you embrace him.

“I may have fucked up a few times,” You concede, eyes closed as you take in his scent, his warmth, “But I’m cute, I get away with a lot of things.”

____

As the timer on your phone dings, you get up from the couch, leaving a warm but strong drink behind, and make your way to the kitchen, ready to take out the sponge cake -no, a voice too alike Ivar corrects you, Bûche de Noël-.

Uneven steps behind you let you know of who walked in behind you, and you turn around with a slight frown on your brows, meaning to ask something before he interrupts you.

“He’s groping and kissing her in front of you, and you say nothing?” Ivar demands, anger shining clearly in his blue eyes.

“Sigurd and Margrethe?” You ask, and shake your head, “Why would I say anything?”

“You know about them.”

“Of course I do. He doesn’t hide it from me, and he shouldn’t hide it from his family. He loves her, and she loves him.”

“You don’t care that he’s humiliating you?” He presses, and you sigh.

“Everyone here knows how things truly are between Sigurd and me.”

Ivar’s mouth curls into a snarl, and cruelty spews from his lips, “Well, if you had let Ragnar know you had no problem letting your husband fuck whoever he wants, you might have been able to marry Björn, like your father wanted.”

You close your eyes, “Don’t be like this.”

“Like what, hm? Like someone that’s watching the woman he-…What am I supposed to be then, hm? What would make you happy?” He accuses, not losing the cruel edge in his voice even if you both know what he stopped himself from admitting. When you don’t answer, Ivar takes a deep and angry breath through his nose, “I’ve always been jealous of my brothers, you know this. Growing up their poor crippled brother is nothing to knowing Sigurd gets you and doesn’t even know what he-…what I’d do to be him.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Make him be the man you deserve!”

“He’s not the man I want,” You point out before you can keep the words trapped behind your lips. Ivar is inexplicably stunned by your words, it seems, and you lower your gaze. Resting your hands on the counter you drop your shoulders and shake your head, letting go of the previous argument and returning to…peace, or as close to it as one can get with Ivar. “Your brother deserves to be as happy as he can, with the woman he loves. It will not hurt me to see him with her. As long as-…”

“‘As long as it is discreet’, yes, I know. My mother and Ragnar have the same agreement.”

“It works for them, does it not?”

Ivar meets your gaze and doesn’t answer for a few moments, long enough that dread sets in your chest and questions arise in your mind.

Eventually, on the side of his jaw the clear tell of gritted teeth, he replies,

“Not as well as you think.”

“Well, Sigurd and I are friends, we…things will work out. They have to.”

“They have to, of course,” He mocks, moving his head as he rolls his eyes, “Anything to keep Ragnar and your father happy, hm?”

“Ivar…”

His eyes search yours, searching for the answer to a question he has not yet asked,

“I-If I asked you not to do this, if I…if I asked you for more time…” He leaves the words hanging between you, and you blink past helpless tears. He knows the answer, you know the answer.

Thankfully, you don’t have to remind him -and yourself- of the world you live in, of the lives you were meant to live, because the door to the kitchen opens and Aslaug walks through.

You keep your eyes firmly set on the tray before you, even though you can feel Ivar’s eyes on you, demanding an answer. When he realizes he will not get one, he grunts, a clenched fist hitting the counter once before he walks away.

“I’m sorry.” You offer the matriarch as she keeps her all-seeing eyes on you, but Aslaug offers a smile. A fake one, but a smile nonetheless.

“The cold gets to Ivar, it makes him irritable. It is not your fault.” She soothes, but the smile you offer her in thanks still trembles. You both know these are lies you are sharing with one another, and though it makes you falter and stumble, Aslaug moves gracefully from one lie to the next.

“I’ll-…” You point behind you, to the living room, but the woman shakes her head.

“Surely you have time to help me with this?” She asks. It feels like walking into a wolf’s den when you nod your head and approach her.

“Of course.”

She watches raptly as you assist her in preparing the Yule Log, and you focus on doing your best to keep your hands from trembling.

“For someone that doesn’t follow the Gods, you know a lot about tradition, girl.”

“I…It was the least I could do, learning about what is important to your family, to Sigurd.” You offer, and whatever she -who always has the look of someone that sees beyond what normal eyes can- can sense in your words makes Aslaug stop.

She turns to you, and surprises you with a hand on your cheek. The woman towards over you, but the gentleness in her touch, the warmth in her eyes, they help you to not feel threatened.

“Still loving the world that hurts you, sweet thing?”

“It’s all I know how to do.”

Aslaug’s smile is almost sad when she looks into your eyes, “To love, yes, I know. Wish I saw that sooner,” You don’t know what to answer to that, so you offer her only a shaky smile and a shrug. Aslaug chuckles gently, “And you love my son, don’t you?”

The terrifying thought that she knows what she’s doing when not saying any names, the realization nothing gets past her and neither did whatever is between you and Ivar, it all settles in your stomach with a dead weight.

Still, whether she asks about Sigurd or Ivar, the answer is the same.

“Yes.”

One as a friend, a partner, a man you can learn to respect and build a life alongside of. The other, as everything you ever wanted, as someone that will always make you wonder about the ‘what if’s.

She shakes off whatever takes a hold of her, and before you can ask what she means, why it pains her, she steps back from you and turns her back to you.

“You know, Ragnar isn’t the only one in this family with an eye for business. I was once in the same position you are now, the heiress to an empire,” Aslaug’s smile seems to thaw as she hands you a refilled glass of wine to match hers. Resting her backside on the counter behind her, she continues, “My parents were able to teach me a few valuable lessons before their death.

She grabs your left hand, stopping you. Her eyes look deeply into yours, but her thumb rolls your engagement ring on your finger.

“Like how to understand when I can’t make any more moves. And when I can change the wording in a deal to make it favor me.

Your lips part, you think to say something, but Aslaug stops you with a smile.

“Let’s hope you’ve learned the same lessons, my dear.”

____

Ubbe is dancing with Asa standing on his feet, and you watch with a smile on your face as the family enjoys time together, and celebrates the holidays in their own way.

A part of you misses the Christmas lights, the decorations you’d help your parents put up when you were a kid. A part of you misses how simple life was back then, how in this time of year you could forget there was a world past the snow drifting down and the warmth of a hearth and a home.

Ivar comes right up to you, but doesn’t sit next to you, choosing to remain standing.

“Grab your coat,” He orders, and at your confused frown, he rolls his eyes and amends, “Please.”

The most insincere please in the history of pleases, but you know you get more than most, so you don’t comment on it.

Still, you have to ask, “Why?”

“I-…a surprise,” He says, and insists you move with a gesture of his head, “Come on.”

You follow him to the small house the Lothbroks have by the pool, a cozy little home of big windows. When Ivar motions for you to go in ahead of him, a part of you is suspicious, but you still skip your way inside and try not to ask questions as to how it is so warm here when it should be vacant.

Ivar turns the lights on, and you find in the middle of the living room a Christmas tree.

The tree is bare, but still lively and familiar.

You turn to Ivar with tears in your eyes, because you cannot help it.

“You did this for me?”

“You love your Christmas,” He mumbles, embarrassed at the reaction his -to some, uncharacteristic- thoughtfulness got out of you. “I figured you deserved to have some of it with you here.”

“Did you buy Christmas lights?” You ask softly, almost moving up and down in the balls of your feet in excitement, eyeing the bags on a chair nearby.

Ivar chuckles, endeared, and nods, “Go ahead, Princess.”

You skip your way to the bags, quickly looking over the goods and already planning on how to decorate it, how to make it look pretty, how to make it yours.

You don’t truly know how long you spend on it, gleefully putting up Christmas lights, and little ornaments. During the whole time you spent excitedly decorating the tree, you can feel Ivar’s eyes on you, and when you look back at him you find him staring with a strange softness in his gaze.

You choose not to think too much on it, and instead ask his opinion on the decorations, that he gives gruffly and with a very poor attempt at making you believe that -either because Christmas grew on him, which you find very unlikely, or because of your own happiness- he isn’t happy to be here.

____

You smile at the warm and twinkling lights, and burrow closer to Ivar’s warmth, refusing to take your eyes off the dancing lights and refusing to put your feet back on the ground.

Refusing to step out of the fantasy that this could be your life.

Ivar shifts his position, and you lift your head from the juncture between his neck and shoulder and meet his eyes in question.

His eyes give away so much, always have, at least to you. And now they reflect the warm sparkle of the Christmas lights, and they reflect hesitation, fear, uncertainty, love.

Before you can ask what is wrong, Ivar leans in, his hand previously around you tangling in your hair as his lips claim yours.

His kiss is always demanding, but this time it holds desperation in the way Ivar begs for your lips to part with his own, it holds an urgency in the way his tongue dances with yours, it holds a ragged edge in the shaky breath that he lets out through his nose, it holds a goodbye in the way he ends the kiss as if forcing himself to pull away from you.

You try getting your breath under control and your voice to be yours again, but he’s so close, and warm, and yours; and all you want to do is kiss him again.

Kiss him again, and make the furrow in his brow, the pain in his eyes, go away. Kiss him again, and pretend you are not living on borrowed time.

So you do.

You kiss him, and take control of the kiss, and make him groan lightly against your mouth when you tug on his hair, and whimper his name against his own when you straddle him and feel him getting hard underneath you.

When your need for breath makes you part from his kiss, Ivar wastes no time trailing fervent kisses down your neck, panting breaths against the hot skin that he kisses and licks and bites.

You moan his name, forgetting everything but the touch of his lips on your skin, forgetting everything but the scent and taste and feel of him.

Either at the sound of your voice or the grind of your hips against his hardening cock, Ivar’s breath stutters and he breathes your name back at you, voice low.

His brow rests against your collarbone as he takes deep breaths, and your fingers toy at the hair that flows down to his shoulders.

“You know…” He murmurs, pressing a kiss that makes you shiver right on the dip between your collarbones, “There’s nothing I want more right now than marking this pretty neck of yours. Leaving you with…” His teeth scrape against your skin, a tease both for you and himself. Ivar does it a few more times, and moves up your neck again. Your breath shudders past your lips, and you tug on his hair to remind him of what he was saying. You always did love hearing him speak. For all the months you spend apart, his voice telling you what he’d do to you, what he’d have you do to him, is all that keeps you warm. Ivar chuckles, but continues, “Leaving you with my mark all over you, where everyone can see, so…so that they don’t doubt you’re mine.

His hands tighten on your waist, before they travel down, caressing your thighs as he sighs.

“But you’re not, are you? And I can’t…I can’t do any of that. I can’t-…”

You interrupt him before his thoughts can get ahead of him, before he can twist himself into knots about the situation you are both in.

“I am yours. Only yours.” You remind him softly, your lips by his ear. You lean back so you can meet his eyes, and seal your promise with a soft kiss over his lips.

Ivar’s eyes search yours when you pull back, with the same look as before. Uncertain, lost, tender and yet almost sad.

“Marry me.” He whispers, keeping his eyes on yours.

“What?” You squeak, eyes wide. He couldn’t have…he knows that…none of this makes any sense.

“Marry me instead of Sigurd,” He insists, and as if remembering the part he forgot, he curses and hurries to fetch something from his pocket. He offers you a simple but beautiful ring, and swallows, “I-I can make you happier than he ever could, I…I love you.

I know you can, you already do.

I love you too.

But you can’t say any of that, because your breaths are shallow and your head is filled with thoughts and…and you need space.

You scramble to stand, to put distance between the two of you. After a few controlled breaths, you return your eyes to Ivar, whose hand has now fallen back to his lap even if he still holds on to the delicate ring.

He grits his teeth, the obvious tell at the side of his jaw, and he seems to want to divert his eyes from you, but he only blinks and keeps certain eyes on you.

“Your father wants you to marry one of Ragnar’s sons, he doesn’t care who. I…have talked with my father, he agrees that if you want to, we can…” He licks his lips in a nervous gesture, “Mother says any backlash from breaking the engagement can be handled.”

“You’ve thought this through.”

“Of course I have, y-you’d be Sigurd’s wife if I didn’t think of something,” A twitch of anger, of uncertainty, of fear, on his face, and then he amends, “You still can be. But I want you to be able to choose.”

Choose me, is what he doesn’t say.

Your heart is lodged in your throat, and you try a few times before you can finally speak,

“Ivar, we haven’t…it’s been only a few months.”

“And it will not work out, that’s what you’re saying?” He huffs, defensive, “It won’t work out if you marry my brother either.”

“I-…this-…”

“Stop thinking of excuses,” He snaps, gritted teeth and hurt written in his eyes, “I’ll handle everything, no matter your answer. Just…just give me an answer, Princess.”

____

It is open ended cause there’s two ends to this, I wanted to leave the choice to you guys! So, follow the link for the epilogue of your choice:

Will you accept the proposal and be bound to Ivar, for better or worse?

Or will you stay with Sigurd, and be content with companionship and friendship?

Hope you liked this, even if it wasn’t very holiday-ey. I wish you all very happy holidays and a great (or decent, after 2020 I’m happy with decent) 2021!!

(Ik it’s like the 13th and I’m gonna be very much around here posting and bothering the whole lot of ya till the holidays and beyond, but holiday fic and all that, ‘twas the perfect time to send good wishes and all. Love ya!)

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar

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eugene-not-flynn · 4 years

Text

rooftop

word count: 1993

Summary: The night before he marries Rapunzel, Eugene sits on the palace roof and finds himself with unexpected company. Eugene-centric.

Warnings: brief mention/gesture to Rapunzel’s abuse, some discussion of Eugene’s upbringing as an orphan, self-doubt and tangential themes, Eugene is not as confident as he seems in himself but he gets some reassurance, dialogue-heavy, introspective for Eugene and his relationship to Rapunzel, overall v soft, Eugene almost cries but doesn’t.

A/N: Basically, I decided there were elements of Eugene and his relationship to this character that the canon content doesn’t really address much, and I really wanted to explore potential for their dynamic.

...

Eugene liked the palace roof, especially at night.

He couldn’t explain why, exactly. He supposes the habit had started when he and Rapunzel had first arrived at the palace. Eugene hadn’t slept particularly well those first several weeks; nightmares that didn’t involve a knife in his gut usually were filled with Rapunzel’s muffled scream. Add that to the fact that Eugene’s body hadn’t yet caught on to the whole ‘it’s okay to sleep near royal guards’ idea, and Eugene didn’t get much sleep at first. The roof had been one of the few places in the palace that he’d known how to get to already, thanks to his escapade with the Stabbington Brothers. It’d also had the added appeal of the promise of fresh air and quiet.

Even when the nightmares eventually eased and his fight-or-flight stopped kicking in every time so much as saw a guard, Eugene found himself drawn to the roof. He liked the near bird’s-eye view of the kingdom, and even in the dark of night, the stars just seemed brighter to him up here. The late summer air breezes through loose strands of his brown hair and Eugene takes a deep breath as tension eases from his shoulders.

“Wedding jitters?”

Eugene jumps at the unexpected voice, glancing over his shoulder. It’s well past midnight. He hadn’t expected anyone to be up here. And even if he had, the last person he expected to interrupt his evening was the queen.

“Your Majesty,” Eugene says quickly, moving to push himself to his feet before Queen Arianna stops him by lifting her hand. She’s in the purple gown she’d been wearing earlier in the day, but her hair is loose from its usual half-pulled-back regal style. It is almost startling to see her so… normal.

“Please,” she says, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She nods to the space beside him. “Can I join you?”

“Of course.”

Eugene sits up a bit more as the queen settles herself beside him. For a long moment, neither of them says anything. Eugene listens to the quiet hoot of an owl and the very distant chirp of crickets. The thumb of his left hand skims his ring finger almost absent-mindedly.

“Did you ever learn to find constellations?” the queen asks after a moment.

Eugene glances at her, then follows her gaze to the sky above them. “A few,” he answers, realizing very suddenly that he can’t remember the last time he had a one-on-one conversation with her Majesty the Queen. It makes him suddenly nervous. “Some of the older kids at the orphanage used to use them to tell stories.”

The queen hums. When Eugene glances over quickly, she’s smiling faintly. “When my sister and I were children, we’d make up stories for the stars. It wasn’t until I was older that I learned some of the actual mythology.”

Eugene glances down at his hands. “The first time I’d read anything formal on the stars was—” he falters, “was when Rapunzel and I were first in Corona.”

“It is strange to think that Rapunzel was within our city walls for an entire day before we’d even realized.”

A part of Eugene wonders quietly if perhaps Rapunzel might’ve been sooner reunited with her parents if they hadn’t been ducking and dodging guards left and right that day. Even though none of them—not even Rapunzel—knew at the time that she was the Lost Princess, Eugene remembers how the Queen had taken one look at her daughter and seemed to just… know.

“We didn’t know,” Eugene says, “who Rapunzel was.”

“I know,” she replies easily. “In a strange way, I think it was best that Rapunzel experienced our kingdom as a member of it, as part of the city’s community, before she knew she was to rule it.”

Eugene’s mouth quirks fondly at the memory. He remembers the way her tongue poked out between her lips when she’d painted the crest of Corona in the street. He remembers her gasp of wonder when he’d showed her Corona’s library. And then, of course, how she’d managed to get an entire city square full of people to join her in a dance. Even Eugene himself, who hadn’t danced in many years.

“She really fell in love with the people of Corona that day,” Eugene tells her softly.

Eugene senses more than sees the way the queen glances at him. “From what she’s told me, it wasn’t just the people of Corona she fell in love with that day.”

Eugene feels his cheeks warm, and he’s suddenly grateful for the cover of night. His thumb skims his left ring finger again, his heart giving a small squeeze at the words.

He clears his throat. “She, ah—she wasn’t the only one.”

The queen hums again, but when Eugene looks over at her, her smile is soft and her gaze is trained out over her kingdom. “Are you nervous for tomorrow, Eugene?”

He pauses before he answers. He looks back out over the kingdom. If the queen had asked him at any other point during the day, he’s pretty sure he would have answered immediately. Of course not! But the night makes him want to be more fully honest. Eugene wonders if the tiredness lowers his defenses. Or if the dark offers an illusion of safety. Or if the quiet of the world in nightfall forces a gravity to the words spoken in it. Eugene doesn’t know.

But he’d be lying if he said that there wasn’t a part of him that was nervous. Though now, it was more about remembering his vows and the toast the groom was expected to deliver. The details. The only detail Eugene wasn’t nervous about was the rings, as he’d put Max and Pascal in charge of those. But the idea of getting married? To Rapunzel? That… made a warm, fluttery feeling expand in Eugene’s chest that he knew to be excitement, not nerves.

“Not for the reasons I’d thought I’d be,” he answers eventually. “If you’d asked me five years ago if I’d be nervous the night before my wedding, I would probably laugh at you first.”

“Marriage wasn’t something you wanted?”

“Well, it…” He sighs. It wasn’t that he didn’t want it. It was more… “I wouldn’t have considered it as something meant for me.”

Marriage meant several things needed to be true. He’d have to want to settle down. He’d have to fall in love. And he’d have to have that person fall in love with him in return. Five years ago, none of those things had seemed attainable for him. He hadn’t even dared to dream that perhaps they could be some day. Instead, he’d convinced himself that security could be found in the accumulation of wealth. After all, it seemed to have worked for Flynnigan Rider.

But then he’d met Rapunzel. And everything he’d convinced himself of had been turned upside down.

“Something must have changed your mind.”

“Rapunzel,” Eugene answers without hesitation. “Rapunzel changed everything.”

Queen Arianna chuckles softly. “Yes, I seem to remember you had been a wanted thief prior to your return with my daughter.”

Eugene ducks his head sheepishly, turning his gaze to distant, silhouette figures of citizens moving through the streets of Corona below them. He can feel the careful gaze of the queen on him and it makes him feel, not for the first time, uncharacteristically self-conscious. He knew how the king felt about him, but Eugene had always had a harder time reading the queen.

“Well, what can I say?” Eugene rubs the back of his neck. “Rapunzel brought out the best in me. She continues to do so, every day.”

There’s a brief, thoughtful pause. “You know, I’ve never truly known my daughter without you there too. But I can see how you bring out the best in her, too.”

That brings Eugene up short. It certainly hadn’t been what he expected. “That’s… kind of you, Your Highness,” he decides. It’s a nice thought, Eugene thinks, and one that he desperately wants to believe. But Eugene can’t help the haze of self-doubt that lingers in the back of his mind, formed from years of experience and countless voices insisting he wasn’t enough for his parents, wasn’t enough to be adopted, wasn’t enough—

“You may not always believe it,” the queen interrupts as if she can read his mind. Eugene startles, then stares at her as she continues. “But it’s true. Rapunzel doesn’t talk much about her childhood, and when she does, we both know she tends to gloss over a lot of the… unpleasant details. But from the little that she has shared, it’s become clear that for a long time, Rapunzel didn’t have someone who truly believed in her. Who looked out for her in a way that encouraged her strength and independence, rather than hiding her away.”

“I—”

“You believed in her when others doubted,” she presses on, “You believed in her when doubt in herself was all she’d been taught. You looked at my daughter and… saw there was more in her.”

Eugene looks at the queen, wide-eyed. He opens his mouth to reply (because of course, of course he believed in Rapunzel, he always had and always would) but words get lost somewhere on the way up his throat, which is growing unexpectedly tight.

The queen meets his eyes, her green eyes sparkling in the dark. “You two bring out the best in each other, Eugene.”

Eugene is certain now that his face must be bright red. He wonders if she can tell in the dark. “I, um… I…” he pauses, then swallows thickly. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The corner of the queen’s lips curl up in a soft smile. “I only speak the truth. Frederic and I fought against all odds to keep hope alive that our daughter would one day come back. It was shock enough when she did. I never, in a million years, would have expected that on the same day I get my daughter back, I’d also be gaining a son.”

Eugene freezes, his heart giving an unexpectedly warm squeeze.

“I know you are in your twenties,” she adds, oblivious to the way Eugene’s eyes are beginning to sting the faintest bit, “and I know you spent your childhood believing yourself to be an orphan. I know you’ve recently been reunited with your birth father. I know all of that, and I apologize if I am crossing any lines, but… should you find yourself wanting a mom, Eugene… just know that I already consider you my son.”

The edges of Eugene’s vision begin to blur and he blinks quickly to clear it. He had spent his entire life either wishing for a mom or berating himself as weak for wanting one in the first place. He is 26 but he feels very suddenly like he is a small child again, wondering—for the millionth time—what it might feel like to be hugged by his mom.

He should say something, he realizes, but his throat is still too tight for all the things he thinks he should say.

When he does eventually speak, his voice sounds a bit thick even to his own ears. “Well, I… That is, when Rapunzel and I were looking at Corona wedding customs, we saw that the bride and her father usually share in a dance, followed by, um, the groom and his mother. We, ah… we were going to forgo that last part, but… and I know it’s short notice, but… that is, Your Highness—”

“Eugene,” she interrupts, but gently, “I would love to share in the mother-son dance with you.”

Eugene releases a breath and smiles. “Great.” He swallows again, then pushes himself to his feet. “Well, big day tomorrow. I should probably get some rest.”

She nods. “Goodnight, Eugene.”

Eugene’s smile grows a bit more. “Goodnight, mom.”

#tangled #tts #tangled fanfiction #new dream #eugene fitzherbert #eugene fitzherbert fanfiction #queen arianna #abuse mention

206 notes · View notes

amazedforjjk · 4 years

Text

Escape 5- Ot7

The gif is not mine!

Characters: Lion!Namjoon, Jaguar!Jin, Black panther!Yoongi, Cheetah!Hoseok, Snow Leopard!Jimin, Tiger!Taehyung, cougar!Jungkook, Serval!Reader

Summary: In a world where Hybrid protection laws are gradually strengthening, many organisations are still advocating for the complete extermination of your species. What happens when you find yourself and 7 other predatory hybrids in a truck en route to a hybrid slaughter facility?

Genre: Angst, fluff

Warning: Mentions of sexual abuse, sexual assault, mentions of violence, mention of death. Also, tragic backstories™️

A.N: Here is chapter 5! There are some serious issues talked about in this chapter, but they are important. I don’t know when I’ll be able to write the next chapters, I’ll try to keep you updated. I hope you’ll like it!

Word count: 4.2K (the biggest yet hehe)

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It is not yet morning when you wake up in cold sweat. As soon as you fell asleep you were engulfed in a nightmare, one where you were unable to escape the torture of your captor. You pant as the image of his knife covering your body of deep bloody lines is still fresh in your mind. You take deep breaths, trying to calm your heart pounding in your chest. Next to you, Jin and Jimin are still peacefully slumbering, and you find yourself relaxing at the sound of the blond hybrid’s steady breathing.

Unable to go back to sleep just yet, you carefully rise to your feet, disentangling your tail from Jimin’s in the process. You smile to yourself when the grey bushy article wraps itself around Taehyung’s instead, the tiger hybrid currently sprawled onto the youngest hybrid. You only take a few steps from the sleeping men to find Yoongi seated on the ground, facing the direction of the abandoned farm. The tilt of his ears in your direction is the only indication that he has noticed your presence, and you take it as an invitation to sit next to him.

“Nightmare?”, he says simply, though his eyes convey the worry he feels. You hum in response, hands rubbing your eyes. You turn your head to meet his eyes.

“What about you?”

“I think someone should keep watch..”, he responds, and you can tell by the way he looks away from you that it’s not the complete truth. You stare quizzically at him, making him understand that you don’t fully believe his explanation. He sighs and a dry chuckle escapes his lips.

“Fine, I couldn’t sleep because I was scared”. Your eyebrows furrow at the unexpected revelation but you let him continue. “What if they come after us again? We didn’t kill most of them, of course, we just left them there. What’s going to happen when they wake up?”

If you were honest, you hardly believe that the men left would be in any shape to chase after you, given the pools of blood on the floor of the room, if they were ever to wake up. But at the worry in his tone, you take his hand in yours, squeezing ever so slightly. If he is surprised at the sudden contact, he doesn’t let it show and simply squeezes your hand in return.

“I’m scared too”, you say simply, looking in the distance. The moon is full and brightly illuminates the miles of fields surrounding you. You make a point not to look at the barn, the sight of it still too painful right now, especially in light of your recent nightmare. “I want to reach the center fast”

Even staying in the city too long is going to be painful, you think, and it’s as if the black panther hybrid next to you can smell your apprehension, because he glances at you, eyes filled with questions.

“Why were you taken?”, you ask suddenly before he can voice his concern, and confusion is plastered on his face.

“I- I escaped from my owner” he says, his tail swishing behind him fervently. Anxiety is radiating from him and you suddenly feel regretful for asking so thoughtlessly, and you are about to stop him when he resumes talking. “She would … She would rent me, for other humans..” he trails off and you are left confused, not quite able to grasp the meaning of his words.

“For other humans to use me” he says after a beat, and you feel your stomach drop. His eyes are dropped to the floor and he gently removes his hand from yours to wrap it around his knees. He rests his chin on his knees and he can’t seem to look at you, ears drooping and eyes sad, making him look so small. You are left speechless, emotions swirling inside you, hatred for the humans taking advantage of him, sorrow for what he had to endure, and you just take him in your arms. This time, he is taken aback by the affection and doesn’t move a finger. You think he is going to pull away from your grasp but he leans into it, burying his face in the crook of your neck, releasing his knees to wrap his arms around you instead.

You don’t know how long you stay there, enjoying each other’s comforting hold before he lets go after squeezing you one last time.

“Thank you”, he utters simply, and you smile at him, cheeks flushed.

“What about you?” he starts, and you tilt your head in confusion. He chuckles lightly at the confusion written on your face. “Why were you taken?”

Your smile falters as you remember why you brung up the subject.

“I was taken in the city we are traveling to”, you state abruptly, making his eyes widen. “My parents were used by humans to breed serval hybrids and sell them. They didn’t know each other, only met the nights when my mother was in heat. One day, they managed to escape together. She was pregnant with me and my siblings.” At their mention, you grimace, eyes falling to the ground. Yoongi must be aware of their fate because he simply grabs your hand, rubbing your knuckles without a word.

“We lived on the streets of the city we are headed to, begging for food and sometimes stealing. My mother was hit by a car when she was trying to run away from humans who were harassing her. My dad disappeared not long after that and we never heard from him again. And then fuckface over there,” you point your chin in the direction of the barn, “well he simply had to pick us up after that”, you finish, a snarl on your lips as you talk about the man.

“That’s why I want to reach the center as soon as possible” you conclude. “This town does not hold good memories for me”, you add with a small smile.

“Then we won’t stay long”, Yoongi replies, lifting his free hand and presenting his pinkie. “Promise”, he adds with a cute grin, and you chuckle as you intertwine your pinkie with his. He then props his arm on your shoulder, prompting you closer to lay your head on his shoulder. You comply without a word, a warm feeling filling your chest.

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The both of you stay like this wordlessly until the sun starts to rise, and it’s with the rays of the sun caressing your face that you turn to wake the other hybrids up. The sooner you reach the city the better, you answer a grumpy Jungkook when he asks you why so early, his ruffled black hair falling in front of his eyes. You don’t exactly know how long you’ll have to walk today given that your course has been disrupted, so you decide to study the map along with Yoongi, the others far too drowsy to be of any help.

Namjoon is the first to settle alongside you, gold eyes heavy in sleepiness, and he glances absently at the map while munching down on some leftover apple slices. One by one, the other men take place around the map, all more or less ready to listen to the rest of the journey left to accomplish.

“It looks like we’ll only have two hours of walking to do today tops, we’re not as far as we feared”, he announces, looking at Jin who nods at him while trying to tame his chestnut hair.

“Good”, replies Hoseok, yawning as he stretches his limbs. Once the announcement is finished, the meeting is dismissed and you start to pack your bag when Jimin makes his way toward you, backpack in hand. He eyes your side warily before talking.

“Are you feeling better? If it starts to hurt I’ll carry you”, he says, his light sincere eyes catching yours. You smile at him gratefully.

“Thank you Jimin”, you answer before the two of you meet the rest of the boys waiting in a circle.

This time, the walk to the city goes without a hitch. The eight of you follow the road from inside the fields, eager not to repeat the mistakes of the past. As you start to encounter more houses and pedestrians you move to walk on the sidewalk. The houses slowly get closer together and then start shifting in buildings. You walk by shops and restaurants, the smell of food waking the hunger inside you, the food Granny had provided not nearly enough for two days.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to reach the center of the city, and you find yourself now surrounded by tall buildings of steel and glass. The town is cold and grey in its center, swarmed with working people walking fast and holding steaming hot coffees.

Had you never lived in this overcrowded city, you would find yourself in over your head, completely taken aback by the surge of smells, noises and flashes of light ambushing your senses. It seems that some of the hybrids accompanying you are having difficulties handling the situation, and you step up, taking Jimin and Hoseok’s hands in yours and leading the rest of the group towards a map of downtown.

You take a while trying to figure out exactly where the bus station is located, and another to actually find the place, but you manage to lead the eight of you there safely. The place is crowded, buzzing with people waiting around for their busses. Between the acrid smell of cigarettes and the loud noise of people talking on the phone, you still succeed to spot the ticket booth.

You sigh in relief, and the tension in your shoulders start to lift off and you let go of the hands of the two hybrids. The snow panther whines at the loss of contact and you turn to look at him, confused. Jimin looks terrified, wide eyes scanning the crowd, ears pressed flat against his skull. He is breathing fast, and you can tell by the frantic swaying of his tail that he is not used to such places. You worriedly look at Hoseok and beckon him to take care of the shaking boy.

“The booth is here”, you shout at Jin, hoping he can hear over the noise of the crowd. He nods in response and the both of you walk towards it, leaving the other men to wait in the corner of the station. You can feel stares falling on you, and anxiety starts to rise within you. To be fair, your group of hybrids doesn't exactly blend in with the well-suited crowd, your clothes disheveled and your hair messed up. You can feel some people around you warily eyeing your ears and tail. Even if the city is more progressive in terms of hybrid acceptation, the region isn’t known for its love towards genetically engineered individuals.

The woman at the counter seems too interested in her magazine at first to notice Jin and you waiting patiently before her. You glance at each other, not quite sure what to do. It’s only after her manager clears his throat behind her that she scurries to help you. She comes to a halt when her eyes fall on Jin.

“We need eight tickets to the capital, please,” Jin asks, a polite smile tugging at his lips. No response.

The woman is still eyeing the hybrid next to you, mouth slightly ajar, and you have to conceal a chuckle at the sight before you.

“Eight tickets to the capital as soon as possible… Please?” Jin reiterates, bewildered. The woman only responds with an idiotic smile. He casts a glance your way, unsure and you only smirk at his distress. She finally notices your presence and her smile is long gone. She scowls at you and types on her computer grumpily. Beside you, Jin is all the more perplexed by the sudden change of behaviour, making you chuckle again, feeling very amused by the situation.

“40 dollars” she announces with a deadpan look and Jin hands her the money. She prints the tickets and hands them to Jin, then casts you the darkest glare you’ve ever seen. You chuckle once more and wave her goodbye sweetly, rejoicing on the furious look you earn in return.

You then make your way back to the others, Jin trailing after you after having uttered a hesitant thank you to the cashier. He reads the tickets and then glances at the suspended clock in the middle of the room.

“The bus should leave in 35 minutes”, he announces, and he looks around the crowded room. No seat available in sight. “Maybe the bus is already boarding? We should go check”, he adds looking back at you. You hum in agreement, taking the time to scour the station. Hunger is gnawing at your stomach and you don’t think you’ll bear the bur ride on an empty stomach. You light up when you finally spot a snack machine. You grab Jin by the sleeve before he can walk away.

“I’m going to grab snacks for everybody, can you give me some money?”, you ask the jaguar. He looks at the snack machine and you can see his ears twitch in excitement at the prospect of food. He hands you the pouch in which is stashed the rest of the money and you make your way towards the machine, leaving the boys to go check on the bus.

The machine is filled with goodies and you feel your mouth water at the choices. You start to buy some chips and sugary snacks when you suddenly feel someone tugging on your tail. You immediately bring it back around you and you turn nervously. You can already tell the man who grabbed your tail is bad news by the smirk on his lips. He seems older, maybe mid-fifties and he is not wearing a suit like the other passengers around you, but rather a dirty grey raincoat. He looks you up and down and licks his lips and you can’t repress the grimace of disgust plastered on your face.

“Please leave me alone”, you tentatively say, hoping the man will stop at once, but that only seems to spur him on and he starts coming closer to you. You didn’t buy nearly enough food for all of you but this will have to do, you think as you hastily squat down to retrieve the snacks from the machine and stash them in your bag. You stand up quickly, eager to go back to your boys but he presses into you from behind and your whole body is shoved into the machine. You feel color drain from your face as something hard pokes at you. You suddenly feel nauseated, this is disgusting. You want to scream but it’s as if your voice has disappeared. You grit your teeth, hoping the people around will have noticed to help you, but no one moves. In fact, it’s as if no one wants to look at you. You try to push the man to get out of his reach but to no avail, and panic settles into your bones.

The pressure behind you is removed abruptly, and you turn around to find Namjoon staring down at the man who was assaulting you held onto the floor. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so angry, the veins of his neck prominent and his jaw is clenched as he maintains the man on the ground with his foot. If looks could kill, the man would have died ten times already, the gold eyes of the lion hybrid shining fiercely. His fists are clenched, his knuckles almost turning white. You finally shake the shock from your mind and look around you. The humans are staring, scared, at the predatory hybrid. You can tell that some are calling the police so you grab Namjoon’s arm, shifting his attention on you.

“Let him go, Namjoon”, you plead, panic in your eyes. “This is not the time to bring the police’s attention on us”, you add through gritted teeth, looking at the woman protecting her child. You want to scream, shout that she better protect her daughter from the man on the ground rather than from Namjoon, that she should be thankful that men like him still exist. But you can’t, you have to get him out of here, or the one in danger is going to be him, as unfair as it seems.

“But-” he starts, looking back at the man in anger.

“Namjoon, please!”

The lion hybrid looks at you one last time, then around him. He must feel the weight of the accusatory gazes on him because his ears fall. He lifts his leg and the man scurries away, like a worm under Namjoon’s harsh glare. You hastily buy the rest of the snacks you had planned to take and quickly lead the lion out by the hand. Before you can reach the other boys waiting by the bus, Namjoon stops dead in his tracks and you turn to him.

“That’s not fair”, he says, his intense gold eyes trained on you.

“No, it’s really not”, you reply sadly.

“I should have beaten him up for doing that to you”, he adds, and you look at the ground.

“It would only have ended badly for you”, you say, a resigned look on your face.

“No, I fought… Before.” You glance up to meet his gaze, confused before you grasp the meaning of his words and your eyes widen in realisation. He was in a hybrid fighting ring.

“The injuries on the first night- it’s because of that?”, you ask, stepping closer to him.

“That night, I lost my first fight”, he begins and you hold your breath, sorrow filling you. “They left me for dead on the streets. When I woke up, I tried to find shelter but then I got picked up anyway. I was too weak to fight back” he adds, turning his head from you, pausing. “But I could’ve beaten that man’s ass” he finishes, his gold eyes finally finding yours.

“I’m sorry Namjoon” is all you can say, and you wrap your arms around him. You pause to gather your thoughts before continuing. “I know you would’ve won, and easily, but they would have called the police on you. They would have you put down. And that would be worse than that man walking away unscathed”

He sighs before wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pressing his forehead to yours. He pulls back after a beat and wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb. You didn’t notice that you were crying, and you blush, embarrassed at your display of emotions.

“We should go”, he says after a little while and the both of you make your way towards the boys gathered next to the bus. They are waiting by the open door, the bus almost ready to leave. At the sight of your reddened cheeks, they exchange worried looks but you don’t leave them the time to ask questions before you hand each of them a snack.

“Come on, let's get our seats”, Namjoon says, placing his hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the doors.

Jimin and Jungkook are the first to board the bus, taking their seats at the back of the vehicule. Taehyung and Yoongi sit on the aisle opposite to them, Yoongi against the window, leaning his head, already in position to sleep. You settle next to Hoseok in front of them, leaving Namjoon to sit next to the eldest at your left.

When you sit, Hoseok is seemingly very excited about the departure, smiling broadly at you. His smile is contagious and you return his smile in earnest. He can barely contain his trepidation, his tail swishing from side to side at your feet and his ears flicking at every sound. You chuckle at his adorableness, making him blush, before getting your snacks and starting to munch on the chips. You notice the cheetah hybrid next to you eyeing your food so you hand him the bag. He smiles warmly in thanks and you happily share the salty treat.

Maybe five minutes after you boarded, the bus closes its doors and starts moving. You hear a quick screeching noise and the driver starts talking, his voice barely covering the sound of engines even with a microphone.

“Ladies and gents, welcome aboard this bus in direction to-”

“Y/n, do you have something else to eat?”, the tiger behind you asks, face close to your headrest. You nod and go through into your bag, handing Taehyung a bag of sweets. He squeals in delight when you give him the snack, pecking your cheek quickly before sitting back, sharing the snack with the blond haired boy across him.

“We should arrive in two hours and twenty-five minutes, please do not walk in the aisle when the bus is-”

You turn back to Hoseok, who is staring out the window, giddy, hands clutching the ledge. You take a moment to examine him before breaking the silence. From his coal colored hair falling delicately on his forehead to his caramel skin complimenting his warm eyes, he looks completely breathtaking. Your eyes trace his sharp features, following the angle of his jaw before falling on his pink lips turned up in a awestruck smile. You can feel the blush creeping on your cheeks as you continue to ogle the man next to you, and you take a deep breath to calm your beating heart before talking.

“You seem excited to take the bus, Hoseok”, you state simply and he beams at you.

“We are the closest we’ve ever been to have a home!” he replies, thrill clear in his voice. His gold eyes are gleaming, and you find yourself lost in them, smiling softly in return. “And this is the first time I take the bus! It’s so big!” he adds animatedly, eyes scouring the insides of the vehicule.

Outside the window, the city landscape slowly shifts to miles of fields, stretching to the horizon, and you can feel sleep starting to overcome you. Much like the already sleeping panther seated in the row behind you, you didn’t sleep much the night before, and the lack of rest is starting to take its toll on you. The voice of the cheetah hybrid next to you lulls you into sleep and a yawn escapes your lips.

Hoseok abruptly stops talking and his smile falls, eyes resembling those of a kicked puppy. Confused by the sudden change of behaviour, you open your mouth to ask him what’s wrong but he beats you to it.

“I’m sorry, I talk too much. You are tired of me, I should shut up”, he says dejectedly, his ears falling flat against his hair. Where is this coming from, you internally inquire, eyes wide in remorse that you pained him.

“What do you mean Hoseok, I love when you talk to me”, you add instantly, taking his hand in yours. His gaze meets yours, his ears slowly rising from where they were pressed against his head.

“Really?” he asks tentatively, hope swimming in his eyes.

“Of course I do! Why wouldn’t I?”

“No one ever adopted me in the shelter because I talk too much and I am too excited. Shelters often kicked me out after a while. They would say that I am un-adoptable, that I’m a pain to look after”, he explains with a small smile. At each of his sentences you feel more and more angry and sorry for him, grasping his hand more tightly in yours. “Eventually I stopped going at shelters altogether, but then I got caught”

“They don’t deserve you Hoseok”, you declare, and at your words a small smile appears on his face. “Your very presence is soothing, you inspire me hope. Thank you for being you Hoseok”, you add, earnest. “I am feeling tired because I couldn’t sleep last night because of a nightmare, but your voice appeases me”

This time, he looks at a total loss of words, not accustomed to be praised. His eyes fill with emotion and he looks at your hand. He intertwines your fingers together, and looks at you again, gold eyes filled with tears.

“Please don’t leave me”, he utters so softly you have to strain your ears to hear it, his deep voice cracking under the weight of his heartache. You feel tears prickle at the corners of your eyes but you keep them from falling. Instead, you lean your head on his shoulder and gently close your eyes.

“I won’t”, you murmur simply and you feel his muscles relax. He lays his head on top of yours, and he begins to speak again, softly this time, and you slowly slip out of consciousness, lulled to sleep by his sweet voice.

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Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it! Tell me what you thought of this chapter!

💜

215 notes · View notes

themsource · 4 years

Text

Fransweek 2020 Day 6

Theme: Fairytale Rating: M TW: Parental Abuse Pairing: (Faerytale) FT Sans/Frisk Word Count: 8,165

This wanted to be more than a one shot so I apologize if it reads funny at all ^^; @fransweek

Frisk was crying, her hands shaking and body numb.

A new purple bruise forming already on her arm, just above her elbow. Deep down she knew she’d probably deserved it, but it didn’t make the shock or sting any less.

She sniffled as she walked, her eyes staring at nothing as her thoughts roamed. Frisk didn’t have a destination in mind nor a goal, she just let her feet carry her aimlessly further and further from her house. She only wanted a break, a place to gather herself.

That’s when she saw it.

The trees parted ahead, a small trail of shorter grass among chest high fauna that led away into what looked like a brightly lit alcove.

Frisk stilled as she stared at it.

Had it always been there? How far had she wandered from the village?

She glanced back behind her and contemplated returning but loud shouting still echoed in her head. How seething rage made her ears ring had Frisk swallowing nervously.

Exploring a little longer wouldn’t hurt her.

What could go wrong?

Steeling her racing heart Frisk turned curiously to the path and pushed ahead, her eyes wide and observing as the fauna gradually grew contrasted and vibrant the longer she walked. Dulled greens shifted into brighter almost yellow shades and purples turned nearly cyan, the coloring giving an almost glass like effect that glimmered in the shaded light.

She stopped next to a plant that looked suspiciously like a sunflower, the petals giving a slight tingle to her fingertips as she lightly grazed the almost translucent edges.

She sucked in a breath as tiny tendrils wisped out and curled, almost latched onto her in a feather light caress. Blinking as she realized how bizarre that was she leapt back, hissing through her teeth as the tendrils seemingly dissolved at the loss of contact.

Frisk stood there dumbly staring at the seemingly innocent plant.

Shaking her head she decided to continue forward, her feet pressing into soft icy blue moss until she entered a wide open space.

Right away her eyes panned the perimeter.

There were tightly packed and thick trees forming a perfect circle that even a sheet of parchment would struggle to slip through, the only entrance or exit she could perceive being the path she’d taken, and not a single blade of grass appeared uneven in length.

It was calming.

Taking a hesitant step forward her eyes slipped down to a small pond perfectly situated towards the center but fading off into the treeline. Its crystal clear water, so pure that she could see the bottom swarming with plentiful fish and ivy, shimmered hypnotically beneath the small rays of light that pierced the trees canopy overhead.

But that wasn’t what had her attention..

It was a ring of mushrooms.

Pure gold and in perfect formation it sat precisely center and in front of the water’s edge, no other plants or weeds to be seen in the clearing aside from it.

As if entranced Frisk walked slowly closer, pausing as she noticed the grass at its center glimmered with a rainbow tinted light, refracted colors both alluring and mesmerizing dancing across the space big enough that she could lay in it with no problem.

It did look inviting, the perfect circle comforting to gaze at as if it was a golden wall against anyone that would try to harm her.

The thought of stepping in for a nap briefly flitted across her mind.

Her brows furrowed at how quickly she’d contemplated such a thing.

She...didn’t feel too safe suddenly looking at it.

The circle was so otherworldly and strange it gave her a sense of cautious foreboding.

She glanced around the beautiful expanse one last time before deciding she’d seen enough. If her gut was telling her this area was a red flag she wasn’t about to ignore it.

Frisk was about to turn and leave when—

“H u m a n,” Frisk froze in place, her heart starting to hammer like it wanted to burst from her chest.

She had been alone she was sure of it...human?

The voice spoke again, it’s cadence slow and almost amused sounding. “don’t you know how to greet a new pal?”

Pal?

“turn around and shake my hand.” Slowly Frisk turned, ringing in her ears as her eyes locked on who had called out to her in a baritone so low she could feel it’s vibration practically in her chest.

She had to bite her tongue to keep from gasping in shock.

It was a skeleton, wearing a sapphire blue cloak with a skeletal hand outstretched, thick phalanges gently curled and, somehow, palm cupped welcomingly. Where eyes would be floated two orbs of white light, faintly bobbing as they locked on her, with a benign grin of wide and pure white teeth.

Despite how friendly and inviting his demeanor looked Frisk noticed his expression seemed disturbingly detached.

Another red flag.

Frisk’s eyes drifted down to the hand he held out.

His hand wasn’t reaching out pass the ring of mushrooms he stood in.

Her expression shifted. Hadn’t she heard a legend about mushrooms before? Magic circles given form through nature as a way to warn mortals?

She swallowed.

“I uh…don’t want to be rude but…I don’t want to?” Her words hung in the air between them, his expression slowly changing as his grin stretched and his hand dropped by his side.

He let out a lighthearted chuckle.

“smart kid, the handshake routine rarely works but it’s <em>always</em> funny when it does.” Frisk felt the tension leave the air and couldn’t help how she instantly relaxed. The skeleton’s whole persona had flipped like a coin at her rejection, he appeared so casual and easy going.

Like he’d just tried to play a joke on an old friend.

She let out a hesitant smile.

“I’m Frisk…nice to meet you.” The monster raised a skeletal brow, his smile remaining on his face as he observed her silently. The time he took to look at her seemed to stretch to the point Frisk squirmed in place and the intensity he’d been directing at her softened.

He let out a snort. “i’m sans. sans the skeleton.”

Frisk and Sans continued to watch each other, the lights in his skeletal sockets brightening curiously as he tilted his skull. She was an odd child to him. He’d never seen a human with eyes the color of sunlight before.

It was such a unique feature.

“never seen a human with yellow eyes before.” He commented.

“Never seen a talking skeleton before.” Frisk responded absently.

Sans snorted as he contemplated her, Frisk taking in the situation with a puzzled glance. He wasn’t advancing, making any kind of move to get closer to her from where he sat cross legged and slouching.

He was at least a good inch from the ring’s edge closest to her and that allowed her to conclude that so long as she didn’t cross into the ring of mushrooms she was safe, from what she still questioned.

No one in the village ever elaborated as to why they warned about the rings. No matter how hard she thought about it she couldn’t recall much in the way of conversation about the whole thing.

Was it Sans?

She supposed he looked intimidating, being a skeleton.

She took a sharp breath as she pulled her knees into her chest. Noticing the way his orbs of light followed the movement.

He certainly was fixated on her though.

“What are you?” Her voice came out slightly raspy.

Her question hung in the air as Sans flickered his gaze up to her eyes, his sockets lidding as his grin stretched.

Frisk couldn’t see the humor behind it.

Something about the way he looked at her was guarded, shaped to give a sense of security and shrewdness like a mask. “i’m a seelie.”

Frisk blinked. “A what?”

Sans’s skull flexed, both of his eyebrows raising at her humorously but his carefully constructed expression remained firmly in place. When he spoke his tone was light, curious.

“you don’t know who the seelie are?” How she shook her head had Sans eyeing her suspiciously. Frisk looked at least sixteen, well past the age that she should’ve been told the legends of his race.

Had humanity fallen that out of touch with them already?

“well,” He started as he looked away briefly before looking back at her with a sneaky grin. “i’m a fairy you could say. a fae.” Frisk raised a brow this time.

“I don’t see any wings on your back, and you’re a bit big. Thought you said you were a skeleton.” Sans’s sockets creased along the bottoms as he responded in a lackadaisical tone.

“i’m a special type, i’m winging it honestly.” Her expression went closed at first before slowly slipping into measured amusement. It didn’t escape his notice that she almost looked afraid of laughing, cautious of offending him.

Smart girl.

“W-was that a pun?” Frisk asked as she tried to cover her mouth. Sans closed both his sockets full of smug brevity. “dunno, did you find it punny?”

Frisk broke into laughter, unable to hold it back and Sans found himself grinning widely.

He liked this human.

“seelies are beings responsible for the magic in your world, the unexplained.” Frisk’s laughter petered out and she looked at him in confusion.

“The unexplained?” Sans lazily gestured around them and all it took was a quick trace of her eyes along the grove for her to understand. Her cheeks turned red as she faced him again.

“Wow, I didn’t know Fae made such beautiful things.” His smile strained, and Frisk tensed at the slight growl in his words. “not all fae do.”

“All?” She questioned.

Sans’s face was dark, and his tone dropped. “we’re not the same as the unseelie, the dark fae…not exactly.”

How did she not know this?

Frisk felt her heart race as she swallowed thickly.

“What do you mean dark Fae?” Sans’s eyelights? shrunk slightly and his tone was carefully schooled as he looked at her neutrally.

He hadn’t meant to venture onto this topic but it was too late now.

“we seelie seek out humans to bring to our realm to help with our queens longevity, to strengthen our magical ties to the veil between our realms by unlocking the latent magic of your souls.” Frisk’s eyes widened.

“You turn us into Seelie?” Sans’s eyelights pulsed with something akin to humor.

“do you know what mages are?” She nodded her head and Sans was relieved he didn’t have to explain that to her. Why he was doing this in the first place he didn’t question.

“well that’s what you become. in turn for gaining magical abilities the cost is the world from which you come and your mortal lifespans. our world enables you to live as long as a seelie, and that gives the queen more life herself due to the increase in the potent magic. we have a fair give and take.”

Sans decided not to mention the cloisters.

“the unseelie…like to consume souls and steal bodies.”

Frisk felt her skin go clammy.That was something she hadn’t been aware of, something that could happen and no one would be the wiser. It terrified her, but she wanted to know. It didn’t escape her how Sans’s tone lowered though, became almost gentle.

“unseelie at their best just like some fun usually at the expense of others, however that’s rare. they believe that by increasing their own magic themselves they can support the balance of our worlds on their own merits. instead of drawing magic from it’s natural place they make it to where they can unnaturally produce and draw it from themselves. consuming a human soul makes that possible.”

They consumed human souls?

“How?” Sans’s expression didn’t shift but his eyelights dimmed as he took in her reaction.

“your spirit and wills are strong enough to rival our magic when on equal footing. fusing the two together, a human soul with a monster makes…a freak of nature.” Sans’s smile went tired.

“our method, giving humans our magic is more of an evolution for your species not a senseless genocide where one has to sacrifice for the other. plus ours can be…reversed. if ever a mage were to leave our realm for too long their ties to magic would fade, and gradually they’d begin to age again.”

Frisk was silent and Sans wondered if she would be able to take everything he’d told her. It was a lot to tell a child, and it was more than possible that she was now scared of him.

But all Frisk did was smile at him.

“I’m glad you’re a seelie.” Sans, confused, lowered his mask back into place. If she were an adult, an educated one, he doubted she’d be saying that. But still he had to know what her reasoning was.

It was unexpected, even unnerving, how relieved she sounded.

“why do you say that?”

“Because I wouldn’t want to be scared of my new friend.”

Sans was speechless.

He’d explained the nature of his race and it’s counterpart, told her how his basically kidnaps and steals away their mortal rights, and yet she was still saying something so pure and honest that it hit him right where his soul rested.

She didn’t even know him.

They had just met.

But Frisk so quickly trusted him. Considered him a friend, even when that was a dangerous decision she perhaps shouldn’t make.

Seelie and Unseelie were different yes, but it was still a fine line between them that could blur. One easily crossed often on accident.

It made him wonder if she considered them friends so quickly from ignorance, though she looked old enough to know better,...or loneliness.

Was that what had lured her to his grove?

Her honey colored eyes were glowing as she looked at him, and he couldn’t help how his soul thrummed under its gaze. However his eyelights quickly locked on an ugly purple mark on her arm the moment she shifted in place.

His sockets widened.

It was then that Sans realized it was loneliness, that this little girl had never been loved before.

And that woke, unsettled, something in him.

“...i’m glad you’re not scared of me either frisk.” How radiant her joyful laugh lit up her face and echoed around the clearing left him mute.

The surrounding light dimmed and faint darkness fell like a blanket over them and he peered up to see the budding horizon of the night sky fading in through the groves canopy.

Sans looked back to Frisk who had followed his gaze and he was speaking before he could think about it too hard.

“it’s late, you should get home. don’t want to get lost do you?” The slight wince on her face nearly made him inwardly frown but he remained outwardly expressionless.

“I don’t really want to.” He forced a smirk.

“sorry kid, but a growing human needs rest.” He held his hand out from where he sat. “going to say goodbye?”

Frisk looked ready to reach forward, automatic politeness guiding her but pulled back at the last second, her eyes narrowing and nose wiggling in a look of incredulousness. “Hey!”

Sans chuckled and gave a lazy shrug.

“seelie i did there did you?” Frisk let out a scoff as she stood and wiped the grass from her clothes. Shyly she looked up at him and Sans cocked another brow inquisitively.

“Can I come visit again?” He didn’t know how to respond so he said, “sure kid.”

His eyelights didn’t leave her until she vanished back through the concealment barrier to the grove, his mind wondering just what he’d gotten himself into, and his thoughts drawn to the golden eyed girl with fascination.

Oh well, maybe she wouldn’t come back after she let what he’d told her register.

Sans was proven wrong the moment he felt a disturbance in his magic the next day.

“hey kid. back so soon?” he held his hand out habitually and her deadpan nearly had him chuckling.

“So I passed my classes.” He tilted his skull as his hand lowered back into the confines of his cloak.

“that’s good, which ones?” It shocked him how easily he fell into the conversation. Such a mundane topic when compared to his Seelie knowledge but engaging in how Frisk so eagerly spoke about her rather boring day.

She looked so happy to have someone listening.

It made his soul shiver unpleasantly, in a way he wasn’t familiar with and caused his skeletal brows to furrow. He pushed it down and focused instead on how Frisk’s hands moved so quickly in her excitement, the small limbs emphasizing her words.

“Math and English are my favorite subjects.” Frisk exclaimed with a toothy smile as her hands wrung.

“english huh? my brother likes that subject.” Right away he saw the silent question in her eyes and Frisk perked up as he started to go on a long and drawn out spiel.

He looked so animated and expressive as he playfully joked and told her embarrassing stories.

She’d always wanted a sibling.

And she wondered what that would’ve been like.

“Wow Papyrus sounds like so much fun.” Frisk’s voice came out hushed.

Sans’s sockets crinkled with genuine happiness through his mask, and his voice was brimming with affection that it made Frisk blush.

“ya, he’s the coolest.” She smiled at the clear love in the skeleton fae’s sockets but then she noticed the moment his eyelights brightened, his smile turning mischievous.

“you could meet him y’know.” Her chest warmed at the prospect.

“I could?” Sans closed one socket and held his hand out.

It made Frisk deadpan. “Let me guess I’d only have to take your hand?”

He closed both sockets and didn’t reply. His smug silence was answer enough.

Frisk tried not to let her disappointment show, instead she blew out her cheeks and rested her chin on her knees in a pout, earning a silent snicker from the skeleton.

The kid was cute.

Her visits became a daily thing, three days turned into a week, a week into four, and soon Sans started coming to the gate ahead of her. Waiting patiently but not long until her brunette hair peaked from the path with excited strides.

Sans didn’t know why he kept interacting with her just as Frisk didn’t know why the grove called to her each morning like a siren song.

And each time he’d offer a hand, each time she’d turn him down.

Frisk’s eyes though never failed to glow with her joy at his presence and his eyelights always expanded happily in his sockets.

It was as if he gave her the moon each time he showed up to greet her. And he felt his soul start to give a pitiful flutter of platonic affection each time she went right into telling him how her day went.

There were times however where Frisk wouldn’t begin talking right away and Sans, deeply perturbed, a tiny spark of rage boiling in his chest he didn’t want to look too hard at, would grant them both mercy and talk to her about his realm and the magic there.

Entertain her with fanciful tales and stories.

A lot he made up, but Frisk always stared at him with admiration nonetheless, latched onto the tales like a plant craving the smallest drop of water. She loved how he took her awe in stride, made his stories more exaggerated or wild just to see what he could get away with.

But as with all beings who started to care for each other…

The questions came.

“hey frisk?” He tried.

“Yes?”

“where did you get that mark today?”

She didn’t answer him, only pulled her sleeve or pant leg a little lower to hide whichever one he could be referring to. And she, scared that if he knew how bad she often was to deserve such things, worried that he’d abandon her, and so changed the subject to a question he’d often answered before about magic.

He grudgingly let her, silently wondered when she’d break.

And one night it happened.

Frisk had never gone to the grove at night before, she’d never had a reason to.

But that night had been…bad.

She usually sought out Sans’s company after such episodes, a few jokes and his usual attempts to lure her away to his world somehow always made her feel better, but tonight she just wanted to be alone.

But not.

Honestly she didn’t know if Seelie needed sleep but if they did she was willing to at least be in the same place as where her friend always met her. Frisk knew the grove wasn’t his actual home, but to her it’s all she knew him to have.

And that was enough.

It wasn’t a surprise when she found the ring of mushrooms he usually occupied empty. A group of fireflies tracing along the back of it and into the far off trees.

The sight of it though relaxed her and she fell into her habitual spot with a muted crunching of grass. Her honey colored eyes locking onto the Seelie gate with fondness.

She was a bit let down even though she’d known better.

Frisk let out a dejected sigh and slowly fell sideways, her knees pulling up to her chest as she let out a shiver in the slightly chilled air. It was a cool night, fall wasn’t that far off.

Would Sans still be able to visit once winter hit?

His explanation on the summer and winter courts hadn’t really informed her of that.

Her eyes had started to drift closed in her musings.

“frisk?”

She jolted awake and sat up, her eyes automatically honing in on the ring before frowning.

It was still empty.

She blinked the tiredness from her eyes, when had she fallen asleep? And carefully looked around before pulling up short in surprise.

Sans was a few feet from her, looking at her curiously.

He was outside the circle?

“Sans?” In disbelief she pushed to her feet and froze.

He was tiny, came up to about the top of her hip.

Her brows furrowed.

Frisk was certain he was taller than this, he gave the impression that he was a good five foot at least. Though she’d never seen him standing before the way he typically sat gave her the impression.

His skull tilted in question. “what are you doing out so late?”

“Why are you small?” She couldn’t help asking. Sans let out a snort.

“i’m in your realm, not enough active magic here for me to be at full height.” Oddly she understood what he meant by that. Then it occurred to her…could Sans take her now that he wasn’t bound by the gate?

Was that a bad thing?

The impulsive thought scared her.

She took a cautious step back, tried to be subtle so as not to be rude but Sans caught it. His eyelights snapped to her feet before going back up to her face.

It was so weird to see him craning his vertebra to look up at her but strangely adorable.

“easy kiddo, i can’t take you anywhere right now. it’s only possible during the day, and i can’t just pick you up and go.” His smile was patient and reassuring.

“Why not?” Sans’s smile only turned even friendlier as he heard the uncertainty in her tone.

“remember the veil i mentioned? it’s like a magic curtain between our worlds. during the day it’s weakest on this side of it; meaning no seelie from the seelie realm can roam or exit through the gates but yet others can enter from this side. at night, it’s reversed. you as a human can’t pass through but any other seelie can leave if they choose.” Sans looked thoughtful for a moment before shrugging.

“as for why i can’t just pick you up and go, even if the sun were to rise well…that’s one of the rules of intent with magic. if you were to unwillingly pass through, my realm wouldn’t be able to…lock….you into place there. unless you consumed our food or something.” As a side thought he held his arms out and shrugged. “plus obvious height differences heh.”

Frisk looked confused as she ruminated on his words.

Sans was slightly worried she wouldn’t understand, but there wasn’t a simpler way to explain it without having an inherent touch with magic.

Still she surprised him as she so often did.

“Magic needs an anchor basically?” His socket’s widened and crinkled at the corners. He looked so proud Frisk couldn’t keep the blush from her face as he nodded. “more or less.”

Then something Sans would call realization flashed in her eyes and his expression went wide with shock as she suddenly bent down and pulled him up into an unexpected hug, her thicker arms wrapping him in a vice that made him let out a strained grunt as a blue blush flared across his skull.

“f-frisk!”

“You’re so cute all tiny Sans!” She gushed as she spun with him on the spot. Sans went to protest, not really one for casual physical contact but went still as a statue as he felt something wet fall onto the crown of his head.

Frisk didn’t give him room to pull back, her soft cheek pressed into the side of his jaw and left socket as something dangerously close to a sniffle vibrated from her chest.

His tone was abnormally soft. “what are you doing out so late kiddo?”

Of course she didn’t answer him but he let her hold him for as long as she needed. When she finally gave him room and let him back down her tears were gone but her eyes were bloodshot, smile as bright as usual and eyes happy.

“Want to see my village?”

He’d seen it countless times already.

“sure.”

Sans and Frisk both grew closer; his nightly roaming visits spent strolling beside her through the quiet of her village, her free hours in the day put towards visiting him within the grove where he was forcibly bound to stay.

They made each other’s lives more interesting, exchanging puns and jokes while steadily learning the cultures and life of the other.

It was something Sans knew wasn’t supposed to happen.

Humans and Seelie weren’t meant to be friends like they had become. But every time he contemplated leaving for good, abandoning her, he found himself unable to. There was something about the honey colored eyed girl that drew him to her.

Only made him more insistent on trying to kidnap her back to his world.

It left a bitter taste in his mouth that she stubbornly never took the delicate step he needed from her. Even on the worst of days when she’d show up exhausted and on the verge of what his kind called falling down.

The day he finally called her out on it, had addressed it directly Frisk had simply responded as if they’d talked about it countless times before.

“you don’t have to put up with that you know. all you have to do is take my hand and you’d never have to worry about them hurting you again.” His soul twisted as she gave him a weak smile.

“You say your brother thinks of you as lazy but you really do work hard at your job.” Sans bit his tongue. Prevented the unspoken words in his head from slipping out and showing a vulnerability he didn’t wish the kid to see as he simultaneously discovered it himself.

you’re not a job to me.

The topic didn’t come back up.

The day came when he had to go on an assignment the queen had given him; it was to take no more than a week, a quick in and out of the Unseelie realm to monitor the dark fae for signs of treasonous activity.

But he worried.

Sans was good at being undetectable, it was going to be an all-around easy task.

Still it didn’t prevent the regret he felt at the withdrawal in Frisk’s eyes, the ache he felt in his chest at the sight of her smile falling into a frown when he told her.

Frisk didn’t want him to go, just the idea of him not being there made her feel hollow.

And he’d honestly thought she’d protest, ask him to stay. But instead she’d merely whispered, “Only a week right?”

He…was proud of her. How in stride she took the news. It was going to be the longest they’d gone without seeing each other since they’d first met but she held her head up and kept her heart hopeful.

His masked smile turned genuine in the way only she so often could make it.

“that’s right, i’ll even come straight here when i’m finished.”

Frisk’s eyes lit up and it made his soul swell.

She could manage seven days, she was sure of it.

All it took was her nod of acceptance before he vanished, the urge to end this task quickly burning in his skull.

Sans managed the job in three days.

A Seelie of his word the first thing he did was return to the grove once he left the Unseelie realm, his intentions to reassure his little human before dropping his report back to the Queen.

When he rose from the gate however the sight that greeted him made his soul freeze in his ribs.

The grove…was wilder, more tangled and unkempt. A blatant passage of time and his absence scarred across it.

And instead of the anticipated human child he’d grown fond of to meet him sat a woman, humming as she twisted some flowers she had gathered beside her into a delicate crown in her callused hands.

Sans’s eyelights nearly went out.

He hadn’t intended on having to deal with a human to collect, in fact it irritated him.

Sans had wanted to see Frisk.

With resolve he took a deep steadying breath and put on his practiced grin. He’d simply capture them and then return quickly before he had the chance to be missed.

“H u m a n,” The female predictably jolted. “don’t you know how to greet a new pal?”

She whipped around and timed slowed as his sockets shot wide, honey colored eyes landing on him and sending an almost crippling pulse of recognition through his magical leylines.

Only one human he’d ever known had that unique distortion.

Sans’s voice was shaky as he spoke.

“…frisk?”

Tears immediately ran down her cheeks as she smiled at him.

He didn’t know what to think or say, all he could do was pan her form, take in old scars he recognized on her knees and wrists. Silently acknowledged that she had matured in ways typical to a young human adult in her prime.

The little girl he knew was gone, and in her place was a kind and startlingly attractive woman.

His soul withered even as it heated up violently in his chest.

“One more day, I can wait one more day I said.” Sans was frozen as she turned to fully face him, pulled her now long and elegant legs up into the familiar bend as she rested her chin atop them just as she had in her youth. “Welcome back Sans, I missed you.”

He felt his magic curl, caused a shiver through his bones as he swallowed and rasped thickly, “how long?”

“Three years.” Sans came to learn a day in the Unseelie realm wasn’t so liner as the human world and his realm were. He couldn’t think of what to say to her. Frisk though only continued to smile and did what she so often did, had only done a few days ago to him, and went on about how her day had gone.

How the last three years of her life had gone.

It made Sans acknowledge a harsh reality, and in his panic he interrupted her.

“come back with me.”

Frisk startled, her eyes wide but mouth closed in a firm line.

They both appraised each other like it was the first time they’d met all over again. Sans taking in how exactly she’d changed, Frisk noticing how he was exactly the same.

He didn’t want to risk losing her, never seeing her again if he was called to serve once more. She didn’t want to miss out on what life could offer her now that she was free from what she’d gone through as a child.

Frisk’s answer was like a blow straight to his soul.

“No.”

Sans kept his gaze unreadable as she explained her reasonings, all perfectly understandable and valid for a mortal he acknowledged bitterly, and for the first time he couldn’t bring himself to stay near the human he’d grown so attached to.

To not feel so unreasonably angry at her rejection.

He left.

Frisk stared in shock at the empty ring, more tears now full of hurt and pain poured out, and she felt so awful at what she’d told him.

But she waited just as she had done before.

And when Sans returned, unable to stay away for long, they’d both continued as if nothing had happened.

His attempts became more ridiculous and endearing the more he tried and failed to lure her back with him as time passed. Frisk found it cute how much he wanted so badly to pull the wool over her eyes, almost hilarious how he worked so hard at it sometimes.

“Are you going to get promoted or something if you ever succeed at this?” She teased.

“nah, better.” Sans winked playfully. “i’ll get to keep you.”

Her cheeks flushed crimson just as his lit up brilliant cyan at the accidental flirt. They purposefully ignored it, not realizing how both their souls had given a firm thrum in tandem.

It wasn’t hard to quietly admit to themselves that they had fallen for each other the more their blushes grew, the more awkward their chuckling became, and how a certain mood lit up the grove each time they met.

But then--their happiness was threatened.

“Sans!”

His soul shook, somehow heard the echo of Frisk’s pained cry and sent a bolt of panic through his ribs as he shortcut to the gate from where he’d been with barely a thought. Just managed to peer into her realm as Frisk came running frantically into the grove, and witnessed her feet, bare and cut, giving out and forcing her to fall but a few feet from him.

He didn’t get time to question what was happening.

Sans’s soul was pounding like a drum in his chest, sweat beading on his forehead as he heard the cries of what was unmistakably an Unseelie making their way to her, the bloodcurdling screeching and demented laughter causing nausea to take hold of him as it passed the grove’s barrier.

Frisk was weak as she tried to push to her feet, her muscles strained beyond exhaustion.

Sans tried to phase outside the ring, struggled to concentrate his magic to break out into her realm but was forcefully refused as he let out a snarl of contempt.

He knew deep down that there would be consequences for their relationship. What decent Unseelie wouldn’t be able to smell the magic of his grove on her being? This had been what he’d feared from the get go other than the imposing laws of his people.

Attachment.

He was more shocked that it had taken this long for the inevitable to happen than the fact it was happening now of all times, with the sun high in the sky and the veil strong and resistant.

Sans could see the Unseelie coming for Frisk, the sick fae having taken her form in a demented play of mental torture. Naturally curled auburn locks turned stringy and greased threads that covered a face born of disgust and hatred. Leaking black socks with crimson eyes and manic grin stretched grotesquely in glee.

His sockets were wide as he fell to his knees.

If he was outside, if it was night he’d be small and limited but he’d still have enough magic to repel the creature. But he wasn’t and it was coming in fast.

Sans couldn’t let it take Frisk, if it did she…there were worse fates than death for humans in the Unseelie realm.

Time turned to an agonizing crawl as he locked his pained gaze on the woman he cared about.

Frisk had said she wanted to die in the human world among her kind.

...Never wanted to give up her mortality...

Sans was at a crossroads.

Down one path was honoring her wishes…but he’d lose her sooner than they both deserved or worse. The other path…was to risk her becoming bitter towards him for the blatant manipulation he’d be forced to use.

The chance she’d never forgive him for taking away her choice on how she wished to live and die.

His sockets flickered up to the blood stained grin of the corrupted fae, it’s eyes full of malicious intent and all he could think about was how she wouldn’t have a life at all if he didn’t act.

Sans made a choice as he offered out his hand to her.

Frisk glanced up and he could see the realization in her eyes as she reached the same conclusions he had a moment before only there was a silent debate in her golden depths, a struggling to find another way.

And that was what killed him the most.

Down to his bones Sans was a Seelie, full of the potential for corruption and cruel disregard that their dark counter parts thrived in. Sans was willing to use whatever method it took to convince Frisk to give into his selfishness, to alleviate his own fear without thought to any alternatives.

And that part of him burned with a smoldering fury as he embraced the anguish he’d have to cause her.

“frisk take my hand! please!”

He watched her hesitate, witnessed the Unseelie draw closer, and finally said the one thing he knew would break her, the image of her for barely a second overlapped by the young girl he’d met almost a lifetime ago that had opened his soul to emotions and concepts outside of what his race had taught him.

The little girl that had once so foolishly and easily trusted him.

“i love you…”

It came out barely a whisper so low it shouldn’t even have been heard under the thundering steps and screeching of the beast encroaching. But the sheer amount of honest emotion behind it and the way his face crumbled was enough for Frisk to catch it, feel the declaration innately down to her core.

The kind and ultimately selfless woman he knew her to be overrode the selfish side of her that wanted more than anything to live a normal life, one that had been so cruelly denied her by the ones that should have loved and cherished her above everything.

The way Sans had when she’d been nothing but alone and neglected.

He watched as the love he knew she had for him won out and without a thought her hand slid into his. Victorious and thrilled, desperate and terrified Sans managed to pull her in just as the Unseelie lunged for her and missed.

Sans cradled Frisk close to him as she passed out, his eyelight flaring threateningly as the Unseelie froze before the gate with a look so condemning and enraged he couldn’t help but to chuckle darkly at it.

“sup buddy? something slip through your fingers?” The Unseelie roared but Sans was gone before it could finish.

Sans was dutiful and patient as he brushed the hair from Frisk’s forehead, her shut eyes fluttering as she subconsciously leaned into his touch.

Her hair was softer than he’d imagined, finer. And the way her skin felt beneath his phalanges nearly made a rumble form in his chest. He didn’t want to stop touching her, it was almost unreal that she was here with him now.

In his home, his bed.

With a sigh he brought the cup of water to her lips and lifted her head slightly as he fed it to her.

It made a confusing mixture of smugness and sorrow coil in his proverbial gut to watch her drink it. To know he was essentially taking another decision from her by offering her Seelie nourishment as she slept.

The only loophole that allowed humans to leave sealed to her.

But she needed the energy to recover and he allowed the weak reasoning to act as a foundation to his justification.

Frisk looked so dehydrated and tired.

How long had that Unseelie chased her before she made it to him?

“Brother.” Papyrus’s quiet tone drew his attention and right away he knew something was up with how his younger brother’s sockets creased along the bottoms, a hesitance that wasn’t normal resting in them. “Undyne’s here.”

Sans looked down at Frisk a moment before pushing to his feet. “i’ll be back bro.”

“She’s a human Sans! You can’t just keep her!” Undyne shouted incredulously. “She belongs in the cloister with the others! A free roaming mage could be dangerous!”

Sans ignored her as he looked to their Queen, the King beside her scowling disapprovingly. Undyne had a point but that didn’t mean Sans had to acknowledge it. It was nothing but a possibility, a what if, and he knew Frisk.

She wasn’t like that. Maybe once he would’ve agreed but not now.

Toriel’s ethereal moon speckled eyes locked with his midnight dark sockets.

He was not going to let Frisk be squirreled away to an isolated place of stone and cold shouldered mages.

Forced to repeat her trauma in an entirely new light.

This fiercely determined woman who had remained kind and trusting despite her circumstances, who he’d just stolen everything from deserved so much more than that.

His soul wouldn’t allow it.

“every seelie is granted the right to a condition free wish from birth.” The silence was long before their queen spoke, the stares of all other Seelie present in the court boring into his spine with resentment and confusion.

“Are you sure Sans? A Seelie may only request this once.”

Sans didn’t answer, he didn’t have to.

Toriel simply nodded.

“Very well then, the human known as Frisk is yours. Just remember, she is still bound to the same rules as the others, she can never leave and any fallout from this wish is yours to bear alone.”

Sans had never felt so satisfied as he did shooting a smug glance to the passing guard before shortcuting.

The satisfaction didn’t last long.

He hadn’t expected Frisk to be awake when he got back.

Frisk was so happy she’d finally met Papyrus, he was everything Sans had ever told her and more. His smile did light up a room, made you want to cheer up even when you felt like the world was on your back.

But she wasn’t so thrilled to see where she was, numbly accepted Papyrus’s reassurances and allowed him to seat her and place a plate of food in front of her.

Frisk didn’t want to be rude but...

Sans watched Frisk hesitate, her hands shaking nervously. It made him feel low, so low because he knew what she was thinking about, what she was trying to do.

“frisk.” She looked up shyly and stilled as she took in Sans’s downcast glaze, the look was enough to fill her growing dread with dark confirmation.

The guilt radiated off of him and she felt her throat go dry as his normally deep baritone came out even deeper.

“i had to feed you…while you were unconscious.”

She didn’t respond and it was enough to make Sans look up to see her golden eyes focused on the spaghetti in front of her. Papyrus even looked sad as he ate but he didn’t say anything. Tried to offer them a meek privacy as he downed a glass of milk.

Slowly and numbly Frisk picked up her fork, and the resignation in her expression as she twirled the noodles and slipped them into her mouth killed Sans a little inside. He couldn’t bring himself to look anywhere but his plate.

A faint touch made him tremble.

His eyelights snapped up and looked over to see her free hand gripping his across the table. He glanced at her cautiously but she kept her vision steadily locked on the food.

Frisk gave his hand a soft but firm squeeze.

His soul wanted to break as he returned it and hesitantly laced his fingers with hers.

A blush just as vibrant as the first one she’d ever given him broke across her face and that was enough to reassure him. Sans had begun to eat again when Frisk finally spared him a glance. Her smile weak but there.

Frisk’s love for him hadn’t changed.

And Frisk...

She supposed…at least she had him and that was enough.

It was later, a few nights after she’d been told everything that Sans found her sitting on the front steps of their home. The glow from the red moon turning her golden eyes rosy as she stared up at it with a hard to gauge expression.

He hadn’t taken but a few steps when she spoke up, her words halting him and coming out shy.

“Did you mean it?”

Sans narrowed his sockets and looked down at his feet. “yeah.”

Frisk didn’t say anything so Sans took the initiative and walked forward to sit next to her, his cloak falling and engulfing his form as he looked up at the moon next to her. He felt a pit of anxiety in his ribs, a sorrow at how everything had gone down for her to end up here but not an ounce of regret.

He jolted but quickly stilled at the feeling of Frisk leaning against him.

She felt melancholic. A bit disappointed but still she let out a weak chuckle.

“You couldn’t have said you loved me before I almost ended up kidnapped?” Despite himself Sans smiled.

“nah, that would’ve been what normal people do.” Frisk tilted her head over to him curiously.

“I’m not normal?” She sounded so vulnerable and fragile that Sans sucked in a harsh breath. Gently he raised a hand and ran his phalanges through her hair, the feeling so much more satisfying than it’d been when he was small in her world and did it the first time.

“you’re special frisk. at least to me, i wouldn’t trade you for anything.” Frisk looked down and closed her eyes, enjoyed the soothing petting of her head as she let out a thoughtful hum. Slowly she pulled back and stared at him in a way that left Sans’s soul beating furiously into his bones.

“Kiss me?”

His sockets went wide, his eyelights swelling in size that they nearly took up the dark voids they rested in. He swallowed around nothing and cupped her face, his hands exceedingly gentle as he smiled with all the affection he had for her.

“i love you.” He repeated, this time long and low with his passion. Frisk’s cheeks turned scarlet and her pale lips curved into a heartfelt smile as her hands came up to cover his.

“I love you too.” Slowly Sans leaned in, gave her time to pull back if she wanted and hesitated only a moment more before pressing his mouth to hers, The bony ridges that lined his teeth folding down like lips to lock with her soft and supple ones.

Frisk’s eyes slid closed as a burst of heat shot down to her toes and suddenly she yelped into the kiss as gravity left her. Still holding contact her eyes widened as she glanced down to see they were floating, a beguiling bright glow coming from beneath Sans’s cloak that fluttered around them from the night air.

Sans chuckled from the surprise he felt rolling off of her and pulled her more securely against him before letting the kiss break, his forehead touching hers as his bright eyelights hazed and wobbled precariously.

“sorry, could say you really swept me off my feet.” Frisk snorted with a playful roll of her eyes.

“An eternity of puns, oh no, whatever will I do?” He pressed his teeth in a chaste kiss to her forehead.

“just go with the float.” Frisk chuckled and the both of them looked up at the moon. Perfect contentment and healing already settling in their souls as they held each other.

#fransweek #2020 #day 6 #themes #prompts #adult frans #frans #sans x frisk #fluff #angst #undertale #Alternative Universe #tw abuse #My writing #faerytale-au #faerytale

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today-only-happens-once · 5 years

Text

Ikigai

Title: Ikigai

Word Count: 5,955

Summary: Ikigai. (n.) a reason for being; the thing that gets you up in the morning. Or, five times Logan Sanders doubted himself as a father, and one time he didn’t. Human!AU, Parents!Logicality with focus on Paternal Analogical dynamics with moments of Paternal Logince dynamics as well.

Warnings: cursing, crying, lots of self-doubt, adoption, hospitals, car accident mention, vague mentions of death/dying, absent father/abuse in the form of emotional neglect (not perpetrated by any canon characters), anxiety and panic-attacks, mentions of depression, fluff, softness.

A/N: This fic kind of happened by accident almost. I hope it’s okay! Got some mixed feelings about it. I hope you enjoy. Edited by yours truly so all mistakes are mine. Shout-out to @creativenostalgiastuff for her help in brainstorming a few things for this fic.

The hospital linoleum floor is waxed so thoroughly that Logan thinks he can see his reflection between his shoes. The small room is crowded with nurses and a doctor as they prepare the person in the bed to move to recovery. Logan promises to check up on her soon. She gives him a tired but content smile. He does his best to stay out of the way, shifting along the wall to stand by the window that has its blinds drawn.

“Logan,” his husband says in a quiet voice.

“Yes?” Logan looks up, coming up suddenly short at the sight before him.

Patton’s flop of brown curls fall messily into his eyes. The fluorescent lights above them reflect in the lens of his glasses, even as his gaze is latched onto the bundle of cream-colored blankets in his arms. Nestled against his chest, Patton looks down at the newborn in his arms with something in his eyes that Logan can’t quite pinpoint. Love, clearly. But something else at the same time. Devotion, perhaps.

“You wanna hold Virgil?” Patton asks, finally glancing up to meet his husband’s eyes. It’s then that Logan can see the beginnings of tears forming in the corner of Patton’s eyes.

Logan is an astrophysicist. His entire life had always centered on figuring out the universe and humanity’s place in it. He worked in fields of science and research, frequently writing long reports, dissertations, and essays that utilized precise words to explain complex phenomena. Logan understood how stars were created and destroyed, he understood patterns of behavior in the universe, and he situated those understandings in language understood by users of scientific research journals and the general public alike. He could write and speak eloquently on the complexities of String Theory in both scientific jargon and in plain English. Words rarely escaped the scientist.

He finds words failing him entirely now.

Logan nods, accepting the bundle that Patton eases gently into his arms. He cannot find the words to explain why the breath leaves his lungs so entirely when he looks down at the infant in his arms. He knows suddenly and intensely that this tiny little person in his arms is the most wonderful, breathtaking thing he’s ever seen in his life. Virgil.

Logan had always been a man of science. But a small part of him—distant and quiet but with complete conviction—can’t help but think he’s holding a miracle. He feels a sudden fear grip his lungs and squeeze at his throat. I don’t know how to be a dad, Logan realizes with a faintly dizzying surge of uncertainty. He tries to swallow the fear down.

“Hello,” Logan says softly to him. His voice comes out a whisper. “Welcome to the world, Starlight.”

II.

Logan hears the wail from his three-year old’s bedroom and shares a glance with his husband. The alarm clock on the dresser reads 11:32 PM in green block numbers. Patton gives Logan a worried look before they both roll out of bed and pad their way down the hall. Virgil had been having nightmares the past few nights. He rarely remembered them with any specificity, but they usually involved some kind of monster that was coming to get him.

“Daddy!” Virgil gasps from his bed when Logan opens the door. “There’s a monster.”

Logan sighs softly, moving to the edge of Virgil’s bed and taking a seat. Virgil has a blanket with the constellations on it on top of his head and wrapped around him so that only his face was visible. “Santa” had given it to Virgil in his stocking last Christmas. Virgil more-or-less carried it around with him everywhere.

His eyes are red and puffy. His knees are pulled up against his chest under the blanket, effectively turning himself into a ball.

“Virgil,” Logan says as his son shuffles closer to him, “I can promise you that there is no monster.”

“Yes there is!” Virgil insists. “I heard it!”

“Monsters aren’t real,” Logan explains patiently. “Sometimes our brains get confused, though.”

“It’s under my bed,” the three-year-old wails. Patton takes a seat by the foot of the bed, giving Virgil a soft and sympathetic look.

Logan purses his lips in thought. “I’ll check under the bed for monsters. Okay?” Virgil sniffles in response as Logan stands up from the bed and lowers himself to the floor, peering under Virgil’s bed. He sees a pair of socks, a couple of toys, and a coloring page. Definitively no monsters.

Logan jumps back up to his feet. “No monsters, Virgil.”

“You scared it away!” Patton adds on brightly. He shares a glance with Logan. It’s too fast for Logan to understand what his husband is trying to convey.

Virgil shakes his head adamantly. “You just can’t see it.”

“It’s invisible,” Logan repeats, managing to keep the frustration out of his voice. He can help best when he can rationalize away irrational concerns. Logan doesn’t know how to get Virgil to believe him. Imagination is a powerful instrument, and Logan doesn’t know to combat it.

He doesn’t know how to help his son feel safe, and something about that bothers Logan more than he’s willing to admit.

Patton suddenly straightens up a little, his eyes brightening. “I may have just the thing, kiddo. Stay here with daddy.” Patton jumps up from the bed and hurries down the hall. Through the doorway that is still open, Logan sees Patton slip into their own bedroom and close the door behind him.

Logan sits beside Virgil again, wrapping an arm around him when his son presses against his side. The astrophysicist leans his head back against the headboard. Virgil seems to relax under his arm a bit, and unfurls the blanket from around his head and looks down at the constellations on it.

“Dad?”

“Yes, Virgil?”

“What do you like best?”

Logan leans his cheek on the top of Virgil’s head, sleepiness beginning to creep back to the edges of his consciousness, and looks at the blanket in his son’s lap. “Which constellation?” he asks to clarify Virgil’s meaning. His son nods. Logan hums thoughtfully. “Perhaps Pyxis Nautica. It means ‘mariner’s compass’.” He points it out on Virgil’s blanket.

“Mar… Marin… Mariminer?”

Logan chuckles softly and kisses the top of Virgil’s head. “Mariner. It means ‘sailor’.”

Patton comes back with what Logan recognizes as a bottle of Febreze with the label peeled off. Logan frowns, his brow furrowing in confusion. Patton winks at him.

“I found it!” he announces, brandishing the bottle.

Virgil sits up a bit more against Logan’s side. “What’s that?”

Patton holds the blue spray bottle closer for Virgil’s inspection, whispering conspiratorially. “It’s Monster-Be-Gone spray. You see, your dad worked really hard to make the perfect concoction that is scientifically proven to banish all monsters! All you gotta do is spray it around the room, and then they run away.”

Over the top of Virgil’s head, Logan quirks an eyebrow. Virgil turns huge eyes onto him, and Logan schools his expression into agreement, nodding sagely. He had the feeling that perhaps Patton’s far-fetched fabrication would be enough for Virgil. Perhaps imagination itself was really the only way to solve the problem in the first place.

“Whoa,” Virgil says, awed. “You promise it works?”

“I promise,” Patton insists emphatically. “Here. Let me show you.” Patton begins dousing Virgil’s bedroom in the lavender scented spray. He sprays under the bed, in the closet, around his window, and around his door. Virgil watches him closely and intently.

There’s a beat of silence, then Virgil gasps. “It works! I don’t hear the monster anymore.”

Logan releases a small sigh of relief. Patton is smiling. “No monster can possibly stand up to the Monster-Be-Gone. Any time you think something might be there, kiddo, we’ll give ‘em a good spray and they’re 100% guaranteed to poof away.”

Virgil nods, not protesting as Logan helps him lay down and get situated under his covers again. “T’anks,” Virgil says with a yawn. “You’re the best dads ever.”

Logan feels a small squeeze in his chest as he drops a kiss to Virgil’s forehead. “I love you, Virgil.”

“Love you, kiddo,” Patton adds.

Virgil is already asleep.

III.

Logan comes rushing into the hospital lobby through the sliding door. The nurse at the front desk looks up from her computer as he approaches, doubtlessly taken in his unusually rumpled appearance. Strands of his hair fall into his eyes but he can’t be bothered to brush them back into their usually pristine position. His shirt is wrinkled. He is still wearing pajama pants.

“I am here for my husband,” Logan says in a steady voice, despite feeling distinctly unsteady in this moment. “I received a call that he had been in an accident.”

“What’s his name, sir?”

“Patton Sanders.”

The nurse types quickly and methodically, her eyes scanning the screen in front of her. Logan glances at the clock on the wall behind her. It’s 9 o’clock in the evening. Logan had received the call at exactly 8:17 PM. He had dropped Virgil off at Valerie’s at 8:30 on the dot. It had taken him twenty-two minutes to drive here, six minutes to park, two minutes to walk to through the front door.

Logan keeps the timetable in his head because numbers are precise and certain and nothing else in his life at this moment feels that way.

“Your name?”

“Logan Sanders.”

The nurse nods. “Your husband is currently in surgery, but a doctor will be out to update friends and family as soon as they have information to give you.”

Surgery. Logan’s grip on the edge of the front desk tightens and he thinks for a moment he might be physically ill. He swallows. Nods stiffly. Turns, walks fifteen steps, and sits down in an uncomfortable chair in the corner of the lobby by the window.

Patton had been on his way home from parent-teacher conferences at the elementary school where he teaches second grade. Half an hour before Logan had received the call from the hospital, Patton had called and asked Logan if he needed to get anything from the grocery on his way home. He had promised to be home soon when he heard Virgil ask Logan where Patton was.

Thirty minutes later, when the phone rang again, Logan definitely hadn’t been expecting to hear the words “you are listed as the emergency contact for a Patton Sanders, sir?” on the other end of the line. He hadn’t known what to say except to confirm. He mostly listened.

He still hadn’t known what to say when Virgil, with a sharper intuition than a ten-year-old should have, had said, “Dad? You look pale…What’s wrong?” Logan had simply told him to grab his backpack and put on shoes.

Logan had blindly grabbed a change of clothes for Virgil from the laundry that was in the middle of being folded, his son’s asthma inhaler, and anxiety medication. He shoved his feet into shoes that were either his or Patton’s—he wasn’t paying attention—and his car keys off the kitchen counter. He called Valerie on the way, and he only hoped that she knew his empty-sounding “thank you” was out of shock rather than a lack of gratitude.

Logan twists his wedding band around his finger and thinks about Patton’s cheerful voice telling Logan that he loved him—like Patton did at the end of all their phone conversations. He’d been the one to get Logan more comfortable with the phrase in the first place, after all. Logan had said it back. He’s grateful for that.

Patton brought a spontaneity to Logan’s life that had been missing for the longest time before they met in college. His friendliness and cheery disposition had, at first, been jarring for Logan. But Patton had seemed to find something worthwhile about the astrophysicist student, and Logan found Patton to be a light of empathy and compassion on a level that Logan did not always understand but did always deeply value.

What started as spontaneity gradually became a needed constant in Logan’s life. Patton balances him. Logan had long since forgotten what life had been like before him, except that it wasn’t nearly as joyful, dynamic, or vibrant. By the time Logan proposed, he knew that he didn’t ever want anyone else by his side. That feeling had somehow—impossibly—only grown stronger since adopting Virgil.

As if on cue, Logan feels his phone vibrating in his pocket and fishes it out. He sees Valerie’s face flash across his Caller ID and feels the uneasiness in his stomach turn to ice.

“This is Logan,” he answers.

To his surprise, it’s Virgil’s voice that responds to him. “Hi, dad.”

Logan swallows hard and scrubs a hand down his face. “Virgil, are you all right?”

“Yeah. I’m just… worried about dad.”

Logan feels his eyes suddenly start to sting and he squeezes them shut tightly against the feeling. “Yeah,” he replies. “Yeah, me too.” Logan does not know what else to say. He feels like a ship without a lighthouse to guide him. Patton is that light. Patton had always been that light…

“Is… dad gonna be okay?”

Logan does not know. He pulls the phone away from his face and takes in a deep, shaking breath. He feels like he is suddenly spiraling, and he doesn’t know how to correct course. Logan doesn’t know how to be a dad without his partner. They are a team. They had always been a team. Logan doesn’t know if he can be the dad that Virgil needs without Patton to help him. He doesn’t know how to do it alone.

Logan pulls the phone back to him and is honest. “I hope so, Virge.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know.” Logan tries to swallow past the lump in his throat. He doesn’t know whether it’s better right now to tell Virgil that he’s afraid too so that he doesn’t feel alone in his fear or if it’s better to pretend to be strong to assuage the feeling of fear. Patton would know. Patton always has an intuition for such things. “It’s… okay to feel scared.”

There’s a long silence. “Can I come be with you at the hospital?”

Logan bows his head, brushing quickly at his eyes under his glasses. He suddenly and desperately wants to say yes. He wants to hold on to Virgil and never let go. Hold on and pray that Patton is holding on too. I don’t want to do this without him.

“Perhaps tomorrow. You should try to get some rest tonight.”

There’s a long silence. Logan expects an argument. Instead, Virgil asks, “Do you promise to call as soon as the doctors show up?”

“You’ll be the first to know when I hear anything. I promise.”

“He calls me brave,” Virgil says suddenly. Logan doesn’t need to ask who he’s referring to. “But I don’t feel brave right now, dad. I feel really, really…. Scared, and I know you said it’s okay to feel that way but what if I’m letting him down when he needs me—”

“Whoa, Starlight,” Logan says quickly, the rare nickname slipping out as he hears the way Virgil’s voice starts to get panicky. “Listen to me, okay? We’re gonna breathe together.” Logan walks him through the 4-7-8 breathing technique he’d discovered when researching anxiety coping methods after Virgil got diagnosed a few months ago.

He waits until Virgil’s breathing on the other end sounds normal before he continues. “Bravery is not fearlessness,” he says calmly. “Fearlessness means you aren’t afraid of anything. Bravery means that you act despite the fear you feel. You can be scared and brave. Those are not mutually exclusive terms.”

Another pause. “Okay.”

“But right now, all we’re asking of you, Virge, is to try to get some rest. Okay?” Logan’s voice is suddenly thick. He coughs slightly in an effort to clear it.

“Okay. I love you, dad.”

“I love you too, Virgil.”

IV.

Logan watches quietly from the doorway leading out of the kitchen as Roman Prince—his sixteen-year-old son’s best friend—ends the call and stands stock still in the middle of the Sanders’ living room. The window outside shows a dark sky and the silhouette of the neighbor’s houses against the night. The only light in the room comes from a lamp on an end-table by the couch. Above them, Logan can hear the shower running from Virgil’s bathroom and Patton watching TV upstairs.

Roman suddenly hurls his phone into the brown cushions of the couch. In the silence that follows, Logan hears the shaking inhale Roman sucks through a clenched jaw.

“Roman,” he says softly.

“I’m fine, Mr. Sanders,” Roman tells him without turning to face him.

Logan glances down at his shoes, then back up at the teen standing in the middle of his living room. “Your anger is understandable.”

Roman finally turns to face him. The golden lamplight reflects against the sheen in Roman’s eyes even as he shakes his head. “I’m not angry.”

Logan is silent. He sees Roman’s hand curl into fists moments before the teen shoves them deep into the pockets of his jacket. His eyes glance to the phone he’d thrown against the couch as if hoping there may be something that alights on the screen. It stays dark.

“I don’t need him, y’know?” Roman says, and Logan wonders for a moment if he may just be talking to himself. “I’ve never needed him, Mr. Sanders. I can take care of myself. I didn’t need him when I was seven and auditioning for the first time at the community theatre. I didn’t need him at my first opening night, or any other performance. I didn’t need him to teach me how to ride a bike, and I didn’t need him to teach me to cook, and I didn’t need him for the seventeen birthdays he didn’t show up to.”

Roman starts pacing, and Logan watches him quietly from his stationary space in the doorway. “I didn’t need him when I got outted at school two years ago. I didn’t need him to learn to drive, did I, Mr. Sanders?”

Logan meets his gaze, pretending his chest doesn’t tighten with Roman’s increasing desperation. “No. You didn’t.”

Roman gestures towards the window, stalking away from Logan now to cross the room again. “And I’m not going to need him. No sir. Who says I even want him around? What can he teach me? I got accepted into college without him. I’ll dance at my wedding without him. I’ll build a family and I’ll be twice the father he never was in the first place--” Roman’s voice wavers, and he stops talking. He turned back to Logan, and it’s then that he realizes the tears that had been building in the corner of Roman’s eyes have finally overflowed.

Roman scrubs at his eyes with his hand and sinks himself into the couch beside his forgotten phone. “I just… I feel so stupid.”

Logan’s brow pulls together, and he steps further into the room. “Why?” He immediately thinks it might have been the wrong thing to say, from the way Roman suddenly freezes.

Logan had never done well with helping people through emotional distress. Empathy wasn’t something Logan was particularly adept at. That had always been more of Patton’s domain. But he can see the way Roman is coming apart at the seams on his couch, and Logan finds himself feeling as lost as Roman looks.

Logan doesn’t know what to do, and he doesn’t know what to say.

“Because…” Roman tries, pressing the pads of his fingers into his eyes, “because I just… I wasted so much of my life trying to… to…” But Roman doesn’t really need to say the words that keep evading his grasp. Because Logan already knows.

The data was all there, as far as Logan had been concerned. He’d been noticing it ever since Roman and Virgil first started being friends when they were in fifth grade. He’d seen the surprised look Roman had given Virgil when he and Patton would ask the pair about their day whenever Roman was over at their house. He remembers their eighth-grade year when Roman tried out for the basketball team even though he’d devoted much of his life to pursuing the arts, and a passing mention that his dad had once been a high school basketball star. He made the team, but he saw the increasingly angry look in Roman’s eyes when he saw Logan and Virgil and Patton in the stands, and never the one person he’d joined for in the first place. Logan had seen the barely-hidden look of disappointment in Roman’s eyes after every theatre performance thereafter, when he scanned the crowd during the bows as if he was looking for someone.

It had been plain to Logan for some time. It didn’t mean that Logan knew what to say, but he figures he has to say something. Logan chooses to speak from honesty. Patton had always told him that was best.

“Roman,” Logan says, crossing the distance between them and crouching down to be eye-level with the teen sitting on the sofa. Roman looks up at him. Logan sighs. “I am aware that this may be… insignificant of me to say in this moment. But should you have any doubt… you are a talented, courageous, and dedicated young man. I am… grateful that you and my son became friends. And if nothing else, know that I am proud of you. Not only for your numerous achievements, but also for who you are as a person.”

Logan doesn’t know if it’s enough, or perhaps too much. He is not Roman’s dad in any official capacity, though the affection Logan feels for the teen before him does bare comparison to the love he feels for his own son. He had known Roman long enough to see him try and fail and succeed and everything in-between. He’d seen Roman get figuratively back up again and again and again, and if Roman were his son… Logan can’t help but feel he’d be damn proud of him.

But Roman stares at him with wide eyes, and Logan can’t help but feel he may have mis-stepped somehow. Logan’s lips press into a line before he opens his mouth to apologize—

And then promptly finds himself with an armful of the teen as Roman launches himself straight into Logan in a desperate hug. He can feel Roman shaking against him, can feel his shirt getting damp, and Logan only hopes that he hasn’t upset Roman further. It was the exact opposite of what he’d been trying to do.

“Roman,” he tries, “if I said something that upset you, I sincerely apologize—”

“No, Mr. Sanders,” Roman says hurriedly, pulling back and sniffling. His eyes are red and Logan can see tears still falling. Roman brushes at them, his face coloring in embarrassment. “I…” he swallows thickly, and seems to re-think what he’d been about to say. “Don’t apologize. I’m… thank you, sir.”

Logan gives him a small, kind smile. “You do not need to thank me, Roman. Especially when I spoke only the truth.”

Roman’s voice catches a little in his throat again, and he coughs. He wipes the back of his hands against his eyes. “I… Mr. Sanders, would it…. Be alright if I slept here for the night?”

“Of course. I’ll grab some pillows and a few blankets, as it can get cold in here during the night. If you want to grab a shower—after Virgil is done, of course—there is a spare set of towels in the bathroom down here.” Logan stands up, running through the mental checklist. “I generally arise early in the morning, but I promise to do my best to not wake you. If you’re hungry, there’s plenty of snacks in the pantry and you are welcome to help yourself, though I do encourage you to not eat too much as it’s already late and you should try to get optimal rest.”

Roman makes a sound that sounds almost like a laugh. “Okay. Thank you.”

Logan is doing the dishes when he glances over at his seventeen-year-old son, sitting at the kitchen table with his fingers buried in his hair. He’s scowling darkly at his homework. Logan’s quick glance over his shoulder two hours ago had been enough for Logan to know it’s chemistry homework—Virgil’s hardest class, if his passing comments to Patton during dinner last night had been anything to go by. Logan rinses off a plate and sets in the dishwasher.

Virgil had been acting unusual for the majority of the time that Logan had been home. He’d been unusually brusque with Patton when asked to set the table for dinner and hadn’t eaten as much as he usually did. He’d seemed…. tense. His shoulders hunched, barely making eye contact, barely speaking—and a tendency to be monosyllabic when he did. All indicators, from Logan’s previous experience and knowledge, that pointed to today being a particularly bad day for Virgil’s anxiety.

“Virgil?”

“Mm?”

Logan grabs a sponge and scrubs out a pot, keeping his attention on the sink. “If assistance with your chemistry would be beneficial to you, I would be more than happy to provide it.”

“I’m fine, dad.”

Logan places the pot in the dishwasher and closes it before turning off the faucet. “You do not need to be… ashamed of requiring help.”

He sees Virgil’s grip on pencil tighten. “I’m fine.”

Logan sighs. “Virgil, you appear to have been stuck on the same problem for the past hour—”

“For crying out loud, dad,” Virgil snaps, shoving back from the table. “It’s not the chem, okay? Sorry for not being fast enough at it for you, but I’m fine! I’m fine. For once in my life I actually understand this shit, I just—” Virgil is speaking faster now. His voice sounds strained. “It’s all the other shit that I can’t—I can’t understand, like why I can’t just… just… fuck.”

Virgil shoves his hands harshly into the pockets of his hoodie as his voice cuts off. He rushes out of the room and Logan hears a door slam shut. From where the bang sounds in the house, Logan quickly understands that it’s not Virgil’s own room. It’s the bathroom.

Logan frowns. There were many things that Logan didn’t understand about what Virgil just said. Strong language aside, something certainly seemed to be troubling him. Logan may not know what, but if it was a cognitive distortion, perhaps Logan could help him think through it.

Logan sighs again, drying his hands off on the towel before following after his son. The door is closed. Logan raps a knuckle against the door. “Virgil?”

He hears a faucet turn off. “Go away. Please.”

“I wish to be of assistance. But I can’t help if you don’t talk to me and tell me what is going on.”

He hears a huff of frustration. “You wanna know what’s going on, dad? I don’t even know! I’m a fuck-up of a kid with fucked up anxiety and maybe depression and I can’t even do my fucking homework without being a burden on everyone and everything. You can’t help me. Nobody can. So just… leave me alone.” He hears Virgil’s voice crack through the door.

Logan leans his head against the closed door. He doesn’t know what to say, really. When Virgil’s cognitive distortions turned inwards towards himself, Logan had always struggled to get him to disentangle them. Logan could get Virgil to look at situations and talk through them, as long as the stressors were external. When they became internalized, experience told Logan that Virgil would absently nod along and not believe a word Logan was telling him.

Logan doesn’t know how to help him in this moment. And it clenches something in Logan’s chest to admit that to himself.

Still, he can try, can’t he?

“Virgil Sanders, you are not a burden on any of us. And you are not alone, though I understand you may feel that way.”

Silence. Logan opens his mouth to continue speaking, but he doesn’t know what else to say that will help his son on the other side of the door. All the same, Logan refuses to abandon Virgil right now. Logan is not a believer in empty platitudes. He never spoke for sentiment alone, preferring to back the words he expressed with actions.

So Logan does the only thing that he thinks will show Virgil he means what he says. He sits down on the floor in the hall across from the door. And he waits.

Almost an hour later, the door opens and Virgil steps out, wiping at his eyes. He stops short at the sight of Logan sitting outside the door in the hall. Logan pushes himself to his feet.

“You… Were you out here the entire time?” Virgil asks, with an expression that Logan doesn’t know how to read.

“Yes,” Logan replies simply, confused at the way Virgil is staring at him. “I told you that you were not alone—” Logan stumbles back a step as Virgil launches himself straight into his dad’s chest.

Logan doesn’t hesitate to return his hug.

The night air is calm and quiet. A gentle late spring breeze plays with the loose strands of Logan’s hair as he sits on the front porch of the house. Crickets and chatter from inside the house create a background of sound against which distant thunder rumbles. Logan takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. Behind him, someone opens the front door and Logan hears cheerful shouting and music flood from the house and out into the night before the door closes. Footsteps creak against the wooden porch floor.

“Hey, dad.”

Virgil sinks himself into the rocking chair beside his father. Logan glances at him as he does so. In the back of his mind, Logan finds it hard to believe that his son just graduated college. It hadn’t seemed quite that long ago that Logan had been laying on his back with Virgil under the stars teaching him the different constellations.

“Evening,” Logan greets. He quirks an eyebrow. “The festivities a bit much?”

Virgil huffs an amused laugh. “Roman’s had a bit too much and is trying to convince dad to start Disney karaoke.”

Logan smiles. “It would not take much to convince him, I’m afraid.”

“Which is why I got the heck out of there.” Virgil sighs and leans back into the chair, rocking it back and forth slightly. He slips his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, staring out across the yard.

Logan glances at him. “Are you all right?”

Virgil meets his gaze quickly, then nods and looks back out at the night sky. “Yeah, actually. I’m good.” His voice is subdued a bit, but calm. He sounds like he means it. “Glad to be graduated… I think.”

“You aren’t sure?” Logan remembers the sunken eyes and tense shoulders he’d seen his son come home with on the holidays, brushing off concern and questions. College had been hard for Virgil. And stressful. Though he’d come out on the other side of those four-and-a-half years with a respectable GPA and a degree under his belt, Logan would have expected that his son would be ready to wash his hands of higher education. At least for the time being.

Virgil sighs, pausing before he answers. “I mean, I won’t lie, dad. I’m glad to be done with the tests and projects and paper-writing. But the real world is…” He trails off, shrugging.

“Intimidating,” Logan finishes for him.

“Yeah.” Beside him, Virgil rocks the chair back and forth, back and forth. The wood creaks a bit in a rhythm that blends with the distant storm they can see rolling in over the horizon line through the silhouette of the neighbor’s houses that surrounded theirs.

“I dunno,” Virgil says suddenly. “Maybe that’s dumb.”

Logan shakes his head. “On the contrary. I think perceiving the ‘real world’, as you call it, to be an intimidating space is… normal, for where you are in your life. It is more than understandable.”

Virgil scoffs, but there’s no real malice in it. “No offense, dad, but I don’t think you find anything intimidating.”

“Falsehood,” Logan replies simply.

“Yeah? What have you ever found intimidating?”

Fatherhood. “Plenty of things, Virgil. I am not as brave as you may believe.”

He can feel Virgil’s gaze on him now. Logan keeps his own trained out on the stars and the distant storm. “Bravery isn’t the same thing as fearlessness, it’s acting in spite of the fear you feel. You know how taught me that?”

“Hm?”

“You did. The night dad was in that wreck when I was ten.”

Logan smiles faintly, affection warming in his chest. “I’m surprised you remember that,” he admits.

“I remember a lot of stuff you guys taught me. I mean, I wouldn’t be here without it, y’know?”

Logan looks over at his son. His long bangs still fall across his eyes, he still has dark eyeshadow smudged underneath them, he is still wearing the plaid-patched hoodie that he’d had for God-knows how long. Even in the dark, though, Logan can see something earnest in Virgil’s gaze that is meeting his unwaveringly. As if Virgil is trying to get Logan to understand something, except that Logan isn’t quite sure what it is.

“It’s our job to help you and support you,” Logan says softly after a moment.

“Sure, yeah, I guess.” Virgil sits up a little more, leaning forward towards his father. “But… You and dad are the best parents I could’ve asked for. I don’t know what I would’ve done without either one of you. And any time I start to get like, freaked out about the future and everything…I just…. I remember all you taught me, yeah? And it helps me feel a little better.”

Logan blinks at him. He doesn’t know what to say and there’s an unexpected lump forming in his throat that he swallows past.

Virgil glances down at his shoes and keeps talking. “I know I wasn’t always the easiest kid to manage—” Logan opens his mouth to reply but Virgil presses on—"but you never once gave up on me. You forgave me before I ever apologized, and you were patient when I was frustrated, and at every single twist and turn—and we’ve had a lot of them—you were there, dad. You let me explore the world for my own but any time I got lost, you were that compass that kept pulling me back to North. Like Pyxis.”

Logan is grateful for the dark because his eyes are stinging a little. To his surprise, he can see a slight sheen to Virgil’s eyes too. But there’s also a small smile.

He sniffles and brushes his hoodie sleeve across his eyes. “You and dad need to go on a vacation or something now that your job is done, yeah?” He gives his dad a crooked grin.

Logan runs a hand across his mouth and looks back at his son. “We are always going to be your dads, Virge. Our job isn’t over just because you’ve graduated.” Virgil huffs a laugh. Logan stands up and presses a kiss to the top of his head. Virgil leans into Logan’s form a little.

“I’m so proud of you,” he adds. He waits until Virgil pulls away first before he pulls back to head inside. “Congratulations on graduating. Welcome to the world, Starlight.”

///

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#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #familial lamp/calm #sanders sides au #logan sanders #tw hospitals #tw crying #tw angst #tw anxiety #tw cursing #tw self-doubt #let me know what ya thought!#also if i forgot to tag a warning/list a warning that i should list #ksjfskljfskljf #i love writing dad!logan but im not sure if this conveys how i hope it does #without further ado #here's this

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