#the love is gone if you have to ask it. his breath catches his eyes feel stiff it is -1.9 kelvin he is near the beam pipe i miss holding
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Ghoap x female reader / 18+
Everything was fine.
Your phone was quiet, but that didn’t mean anything. You would wait. You’ve waited before.
Sometimes it took a while for them to ring. They had a life together, a home, things to take care of. They had lives to rebuild every time they touched down, got home, got out of their work clothes. Pieces to patch, blood to wash clean.
You weren’t their girlfriend. They aren’t beholden to you, there’s no sacred vow tethering the three of you, no promises or pledges. You don’t know Johnny’s middle name, or Simon’s, anything about their families, their private lives. You barely knew about their jobs, only holding the scraps tossed to questions lobbed back and forth across pillows. They leave little marks across your mind, little spots of scars, knowledge scratched into your skin, sunk into your body, but never too much.
You weren’t a part of their life, really.
You were a part of the dark hours. The soft ones. You were in the orange rays of sunlight cresting over the city, and the emerald abyss of pitch black night. You were the flickering yellow street light, the grey blue smoke of Simon’s cigarette. The in between. Here in the moment, gone with morning.
For months, you had spent their time home pressed between them, folded beneath them, balanced above them. They made you sing. Made you scream, made you cry.
But most of all, they made sure-
you understood the status quo.
“Say it.” Simon cradled your jaw, thumb and finger full of steel, like he was oblivious to Johnny beneath you, his cock sliding in and out of your body, his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, your back to his chest, eyes wide and mouth agape, Simon did not flinch.
“I- I’m not-“ a gasp, a groan, words bitten off when Johnny strokes faster, curved deep against the spot that makes you see stars. Sweat builds across your skin, slicking down your spine, and Johnny chases it, tongue sweeping salt clean. You swallow to try again. “I’m not- not yours.”
“Not ours.” Simon’s fingers wrapped around the engorged length of his cock, stroking leisurely, eyes half lidded. “You’re not ours, sweet girl. But we’ll take care of you, when you’re here.”
So, you fell into it. Fell into them. Got comfortable waiting for the phone to ring, going weeks or months at a time- holding your breath. You got into a rhythm, syncopated behind the swell of their voices, their bodies, their souls. Along for the ride. A passenger.
It was fine. You weren’t looking for anything serious anyway. Maybe someone to hang out with here and there, grab a drink, have some fun. All of these things, they gave you. All of these things were provided. Granted, you only went out with them to a dive around the corner, a dark, bottomless place with tar licked floors and worn away wooden bar. The kind with dusty stained glass pendants swinging over pool tables that have seen better days, wrought iron back patio furniture that squeaked when Simon would pull you onto his lap and hook the hem of your panties to the side to stare at your pussy, hungry and desperate glint in his gaze under the silver glow of moonlight. He’d flip up your dress and stroke you with the back of his knuckles, just the down the seam, cooing, telling you how lovely you look, asking how much you missed them.
They never took you out for meals, or dates, or anything like that. They kept you in bed, buried beneath them, wrung out, drained dry. They took and took and took until you had nothing left to give. They’d feed you, make you come, fill you up and put you to sleep. Rinse and repeat.
And it was all… fine.
Even tonight was fine. Johnny had emailed, said they were back in service range and they’d be around soon, if you weren’t busy. Typically, a phone call came later. Late, in small hours, when half the city slept.
So when you fell asleep to nothing, you weren’t surprised. They’d catch up with you.
They always did.
You didn’t hear from them the next day. You forced it away easily, didn’t let the unease nag at you, pasted a smile on your face for your friends when you agreed to meet them for dinner.
No strings. You’re not their girlfriend, you’re not theirs. You’re cool. It’s cool. You’re fine.
Besides, your friend had gotten a reservation at a very nice restaurant in one of those shiny new hotels that just went up.
You shoved the boys from your mind.
You were the cool girl. You were unaffected.
You’re fine.
“So how’s work?”
“Oh, it’s fine. You know, same shit different day.” You roll your eyes, touch light on the thin stem of a wine glass. The red is a shade darker than your nails, and your lips, and it tastes like sweet cherries soaked in acid. Stringent. Sweet. You’re about to reciprocate the question when the bulk of a man catches your eye, handsome width of a shoulder you’d know from a mile away.
Interest in your friend’s conversation evaporates, and your tongue turns tarnished, sticking in the back of your throat like an overgrown thorn.
It’s Simon. Your heart pounds, and you drink in the sight greedily, elated to see him outside of their flat, or in the bar. Thrilled to get a glimpse of him in the real world, in a restaurant, a real, tangible place, in a real, tangible moment.
“I’ll… be right back.” You manage, slipping from the both to the wall, openly gaping across a room full of diners. As he moves, you mirror it, coming closer and closer to a hallway, a lead off down to the bathrooms.
“Simon.” His name slips from your lips without permission, a build up of excitement and anxiety, all twisted into one heap that darts out in front of your intentions, your resolve. Not cool.
You expect him to be surprised, certainly. You expect to see that small spark, the little fire burning behind his irises, expect him sweep the length of your body.
You don’t expect the surprise to be blanketed with the white fog of indifference. The grey slab of a stone wall.
It confuses you. Startles you. And when you take a step-
Johnny turns the corner, an arm slung around the waist of a pretty, thin, blonde.
His lips part, brows knitting together in slow motion. The girl, their date, it seems, is oblivious. She only bats her eyelashes at Simon and then gazes up at Johnny, sweet and hopeful.
You turn cold. Your fingers go frigid, ice cracking through your veins and attacking your heart, slowing your pulse.
The room spins.
And you’re alone in it. Dining room chatter falls away, drowned out by the thrumming between your ears.
You’re alone. Alone, staring at them, trying to piece it all together, trying to breathe, trying to be-
Cool.
“I uh…” You teeter, precarious in your shoes that now feel like a mistake, like your dress is a mistake, being here is a mistake, getting up from the table-
You’re not their girlfriend. You’re not theirs.
“I’m just gonna… go.” You begin to backpedal. Johnny says your name, says it quietly, and takes a step, lurching forward, an animated corpse seeking its last meal.
“Bonnie, ye-“
“I’ll see you around.” You blurt, stepping back out of reach. Johnny’s fist clenches, and he casts a dubious glance towards Simon, who’s tense and focused on you. “See ya.” You croak, and then spin on your heel, trembling all the way out the door and into the cold, crisp air.
Very uncool.
#Ghoap x reader#angst#lmao#john soap mactavish#peaches writes#simon riley#thinking about the cool girl monologue#phone writing#I know there are mistakes in here
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Hi! hope you feel better soon! And hope you get some much needed rest in the meantime! For the one word prompt: post S4 Steddie, “hazy”.
thank you so much & thank you for inspiring a little moment about rest & healing 💕
•one word ficlet prompts
Steve finds that the couch next to Eddie’s hospital bed is ridiculously comfortable.
Eddie’s talking to the nurse—he can’t really catch what’s being said, the world growing warm and hazy—but he can hear that Eddie’s making her laugh. Knows that’s important, something that would’ve been unthinkable not so long ago: that Eddie feels brave enough to let something of himself shine through. That he can still trust in the kindness of certain people, even strangers.
Steve vaguely hears the nurse leave, glances over to see Eddie within touching distance, perched on the side of his bed. He’s folding some T-shirts in preparation for getting discharged—he’d joked when Steve had first arrived that it’s the most organised he’s ever been.
He must’ve washed his hair this morning, left it to air dry: some of the ends are still damp, and it’s gone kinda wispy around his face. It’s a calming sight, leaves Steve grateful that he no longer associates it with the dive into Lover’s Lake; now it’s something softer.
Something safe.
Eddie looks up. Smiles.
“Uh, Steve, with all due respect,” he begins, which makes Steve snort; he’s come to know it as one of Eddie’s sayings, preceding all manner of teasing objections, “what the hell?”
Steve would usually ask, “What now?” in feigned exasperation, unable to hide his amusement—but his head feels suddenly heavy, and all he manages is, “Hmm?”
Eddie’s smile grows, showing his dimples. He reaches over, and he places a hand on Steve’s knee, presses down gently, “Are you, like, training to be a contortionist?”
Steve feels the warmth of the touch through his jeans; he realises then that he’s sitting awkwardly: one knee bent towards his chest; his neck crooked, arms folded; his whole body instinctively angled toward the edge of the couch.
It’s a position he’s perfected over the years, honed in all kinds of makeshift beds—most recently the chairs of hospital waiting rooms, leaving space for one of the kids to rest on his shoulder. Snatching rest wherever he could throughout the nightmare of that Spring Break, never quite relaxing fully: ready to move, to spring into action at a moment’s notice.
He remembers Robin tactfully making sure that the RV was empty while everyone else stayed outside; his side still aching, Steve stretched out on the seat in the back. Even while he was alone, he only managed a fitful doze—nearly fell off his seat as he wrenched himself awake at the slightest disturbance.
He can’t find that urgency now. Hasn’t needed to for…
He must have zoned out for a couple seconds, because Eddie’s standing now. Watching fondly.
“If you’re tired,” Eddie says quietly, “you should sleep.”
And Steve hears the shape of it, that deliberation in how Eddie says certain things, where he slows down just a little—and Steve knows it must be because it’s something Eddie’s once been told by his uncle.
There’s a blanket getting draped across him now. Eddie touches his knee again, and this time Steve relaxes fully, feels himself slowly tilt back. There’s a pillow beneath his head that wasn’t there before.
Eddie smoothes out the blanket with care. Steve’s view is getting dimmer, a drowsy blur of eyelashes.
But he can see that Eddie’s smiling again. Hears him make a soft, jokingly disapproving tsk.
“Close your eyes,” Eddie whispers, with such affection.
Oh, you love me, Steve thinks.
It’s a thought that drifts in, honeyed and slow, like it’s really been there all along—that perhaps before, in the white-knuckled days of survival, he was too afraid for it. Did not have room to feel it.
Steve’s eyes close.
He falls asleep so completely, knowing that Eddie will still be there, that time isn’t running out anymore; he can stay right where he is. He has room to breathe, to just be—room for the next thought, the next moment, for every moment to come.
#this was fuelled by ginger tea & sleepiness ❤️#steddie#steddie ficlet#steddie fic#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson
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Importance
pairings: dad!Chan x mom!reader
warnings: angst, fluff
summary: Having a child with an idol isn't easy...
author's note: I'm sorry that I couldn't post anything the last two weeks. But here I am with a new one!
Marriage wasn't easy. Especially when your beloved husband was an idol. The Bang Chan, leader of Stray Kids.
Between tours and busy schedules, there was little time for your relationship. But even though it was hard and you missed him like hell when he was gone for a long time, you still didn't regret to come to your best friend Changbin's party years ago. There, you had met him.
Well, he didn't see you and accidentally poured his drink over you. When your eyes met, he was fascinated by your breathtaking beauty. Maybe it was destiny back then. It felt surreal, like he was your soulmate. The missing piece in in your heart and life.
Apologetic, he bought you a drink and after a wonderful night together, asked for your number.
Soon, he took you out on a date and there followed a second and a third, becoming a huge part in your life.
Without noticing, time passed and Chan proposed to you.
You immediately said yes and became Mrs. Bang.
The second you were married, your family asked when you both would begin to try for a baby but Chan and you wanted to wait some time before thinking about an addition to your family.
You still were young and Stray kids took much time and you understood that. Your job was also one of your top priorities and wanted to earn more money.
But it seemed that the universe had other plans with you two. Seven months after the wedding you started feeling sick. At first you brushed it off and thought that it is just a stomach bug or the stress due to work.
As the lovely but overly concerned husband that he is, Chan took you too a doctor to get a check up. Even though you found it a little bit overdramatic, he still insisted and the reason why you felt nauseous was soon found. You were indeed pregnant and already two months into pregnancy.
Sure, it wasn't planned but you and Chan felt excited to have a small addition to the family. And sooner or later it would have happend anyways.
Chan promised that when the pregnancy was farther along, he would take some time off and help you. You agreed to that and decided to work some more months too before you need to go into maternity leave.
The months passed fast and soon, you welcomed your newest family member. A girl. A sweet girl with already some black locks on her head and the same brown eyes that you fell in love with.
Chan was over the moon. Even though during labour, he was terrified. Would he be a good dad? But all these thoughts washed away when he saw the beautiful angel you both had created with your undying love.
He was the first one to hold her as her crying filled the room. Exhausted, you observed the picture in front of you. Your husband with his precious daughter that already looked like a smaller copy of him.
He was told to undress his shirt and to lay the little bundle of joy against his bare chest to help her breath and keeping her warmth while the doctor checked on you because you had lost a lot of blood during birth.
The first weeks were exhausting. Your little girl, Nari, held both of you awake most of the night. Yourself needed to heal and time to recover from the labor, so you relied mostly on your husband who took such good care for his girl. Fortunately, he got some weeks off to settle into parenthood before going back to the boys even though they nearly saw each other every day.
Since you got home from the hospital, four days after birth, they visited you to meet their 'little sister' as they called Nari. Oh lord, they were so smitten. The only one that seems not so sure about that little human was Seungmin but when he thought that nobody would watch, you catched him drawing circles over Nari's hands, smiling when she wrapped her hand around one of his fingers.
When Chan went back, the house was suddenly so empty. After weeks of being together 24/7, the sudden quiet was unfamiliar. In the mornings, Chan was already out, you loved to lay on the couch, your daughter on your chest, snuggling close to you while sleeping.
When Chan came back home in the evening, he greeted you with a kiss and immediately ran off to his daughter to tell her about his day even though she was already sleeping. You loved to observe him while cooking. You loved this little family. It was something that you ever wanted.
You really loved Nari. But after the pregnancy and early motherhood, you needed some space for yourself. You would love to spend an evening with your girls. Just making yourself look pretty and have fun without watching over a child.
Especially since you almost never leave the house except for some stroller walks and buying errands.
You asked your husband if he comes home some hours earlier so that you could enjoy your night. Immediately, he agreed and you were so grateful that he understood you.
On that day, you took your time with getting ready while your daughter slept. You hoped that Chan would be home soon so that you would be on time since you hated being late.
Minutes passed as you sat on the couch waiting for him. Minutes turned into half an hour and you wrote your girls that you would run a little late today. They were understanding.
More minutes passed and you waited already for a whole hour. You tried to call him since he was always so focused on his work so that he sometimes forgets the time.
He didn't pick up and you were already half an hour late. Your girls were already seated in your restaurant, waiting for you to show up so that they could start ordering food.
Sighing, you texted then that you couldn't make it and they shouldn't wait up on you. Frustrated, you cleared your face from the make up that was hours worth of work.
You took off the new dress that you had bought. You were so excited to wear it because it made you feel so pretty again after the pregnancy made you look bloated and your belly was still not the same then before.
You didn't know if you felt rage, sadness or disappointment that you needed to stay home because of your husband.
It wouldn't be so bad if it was the first time after he got back to work. He used to come back at a normal time to have some time with you and the baby. But as the weeks passed, he stayed later and got up earlier so that you saw him just for some minutes per day.
It was like you were all on your own here in your home. You knew from the beginning that Stray kids was really important to him but after entering parenthood you had hoped that he wouldn't stay till past midnight in the company.
You heard the key unlocking the front door and your husband finally decided to come home after he had promised you that he would be here three hours ago. He greeted you with a small peck on the forehead as you waited for him in the living room.
He looked so calm while dropping his bag to the ground and sitting down on the couch.
"Why are you standing there honey?" He asked. You crossed your arms. He didn't even remembered that this was supposed to be your night out.
"Why are you so late?" You tried to remain calm since your daughter slept in the neighbouring room.
"I was working on the newest song for stray kids" he explained.
"Oh really? Because you said you would be here hours ago" you didn't want to pick a fight. You hated fighting with him. It made your heart clench but this night was important to you.
"I'm sorry honey. But I needed to get it done"
"Well, I had plans for the night, Chan."
"Really? I'm sorry honey. I forgot and this song was important"
"The song was important? My reservation with the girls was important to me" you said and couldn't hold the calm tone that you wanted.
"I already said I'm sorry, Y/n. I got caught up in work" He grew annoyed.
"Like always. You're always so late that I wonder if you even remember that you have a family at home" You knew you were mean and unfair but all these things were twirling around your head for days.
"Of course I remember! I'm sorry that I make money for us" he exclaimed sarcastically. His voice loud, nearly shouting.
These words hurt you. He knew damn well that you aren't dependent on his money and that you make good money as well. Even though you currently took a maternity leave.
"Fuck you, Chan. You aren't the only one working. I was asking you for just one thing. Just being home a little earlier so that I could have some time for myself." You said loudly, your voice cracking in the middle as some tears stung in your eyes.
"Y/n. I-" he tried but you stopped him.
"Nari is your child too. Currently, I'm the only one she sees whether it's in the morning or in the evening. And I'm tired. Tired of being the only one raising her."
You heard cries from the other room. You must have woken up your sleeping daughter. Sighing, you excited the room and headed to Nari without waiting for an answer.
Chan knew that he went too far and that he was more away than home. And it pained him to not spend so much time with his daughter. Slowly he followed you to your daughter's room.
It was dimly lit and you sat in the rocking chair next to her crib with Nari in your arms, rocking her. He hated seeing her in distress and guilt crept up. He was a terrible father and an even more terrible husband.
You felt Chan's hot gaze on you. You knew that the guilt ate him alive right now. He couldn't fool you. Therefore you knew him too well.
After placing Nari back into her crib, giving her a light kiss on her soft skin that smelled so sweet like a baby. Your baby.
Then, you took Chan's hand and lead you outside to the kitchen, farther away from your daughter.
He just followed you, deep in thoughts.
"Y/n, I'm so sorry. I should have come early. And I know that parenting a child alone is difficult. I didn't want to lash out on you like that. I know that the meeting with your friends was important to you" he said and caressed your hand.
"I'm sorry too. It's obvious that you try to be around Nari as long and often as you can."
"No, you were right. I need to be here more. Especially with you both. I shouldn't let work take over so much" he said and pulled you into his arms.
His arms circled around your waist while yours travelled upwards into his fluffy locks. Exhausted he let his head fall on your shoulder, all the tension leaving his body.
"I love you Chan" you whispered.
"I love you too. You and Nari are the most important things in my life"
#stray kids x reader#skz imagines#skz x reader#stray kids fluff#bang chan x reader#bang chan#bang chan fluff#bang chan angst#bang chan imagines#stray kids#stray kids angst
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Easiest brothers to fluster from most to least
a/n: Based on this ask. <33
Mammon
Mammon is such a loser and I say this with the deepest affection. (I love loser men.) It took MC approximately 24 hours to make a pact with him and within day three he was practically already on his knees.
The reason I'm putting him as the easiest is because he often makes the situation worse for himself. He'll get flustered and then he'll get all whiny n shit, complaining about it.
Pros are that he'll return the affection 110% of the time. You'll give him a peck on the lips and he'll grab your face and give you 10 prober kisses.
Leviathan
Levi's face kind of speaks for itself, he's red constantly.
The reason I'm putting him under Mammon is because I think he just gets shy and leaves instead of returning your affections. You'll have to catch him in his room if you want some proper action… (wink wonk)
Belphegor
I think Belphegor is quite easy to fluster because bro is touch-starved. You'll put a hand on his thigh and he's a goner.
He gets very flustered, but he owns it. He'll tell you not to remove your hand, might even put his own on top of it. I also think he’s shameless during day time naps, all bets are off once he’s got you under the covers.
Satan
Satan wants to stay unbothered but he's also a weakling. He'll pretend it doesn't bother him whenever you lean in close and he feels your breath against his neck but his ears will get red and he'll clear his throat.
As soon as he gets you alone, he'll kiss you stupid until he's sure you can't remember your own name.
He's also the type to retaliate, he'll put a hand on your thigh as a warning and then slowly inch it higher, higher, higher- and oh, it's gone again! Hey, why are your cheeks burning?
Beelzebub
I think Beel is hard to fluster because he doesn't really care. You'll sit in his lap and he'll pull you closer, you'll compliment his body and he'll smile sheepishly and thank you. He 100% enjoys any affection you'll give him, but he just doesn't really get flustered per se.
If you want him to get flustered you have to be really upfront about it, there’s no playing around with this man.
Lucifer
In public, you will not get this man flustered. He'll do anything to save face and he will not react.
Within the walls of HOL, you might have a chance, but you'd have to be direct about it. We're talking plopping down on his lap, checking him out shamelessly, putting his hand on your ass. (Or putting your hand on his ass, hihi.)
Most of the time I think he'd just laugh at you and call you an attention whore, but if you catch him by surprise his cheeks might turn pink and he'll avoid eye contact for approximately three seconds before he's back to being himself.
Asmodeus
This one kind of goes for itself. In anon's words: he's a whore (affectionately). He's seen all the tricks, he's done all the tricks. He'll enjoy your efforts very much, a Cheshire-cat-smile on his lips whenever you try. He'll even teasingly "get flustered" if you complain that he's acting unbothered.
In all honesty, you should probably worry more about him getting you flustered. He's definitely not a stranger to hands wandering under the table or innocent kisses turning into something more.
#perse fics#perse requests#perse fluff#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me fluff#obey me headcanons#obey me x reader#obey me x you#obey me x mc#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me levi#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me asmo#obey me beelzebub#obey me beel#obey me belphegor#obey me belphie
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— 1D Monthly Fic Roundup —
Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for April 2024! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup. You can find all our other posts here.
Happy reading!
＊ and so I have to say (before I go) by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed [M, 27k, Harry/Louis]
Sometimes falling in love is taking a leap of faith, jumping into the unknown with your eyes closed, hoping someone will be there to catch you.
Sometimes falling in love is seeing the person in front of you, all their flaws and imperfections, and taking that leap nonetheless.
Sometimes it's both.
In Louis' and Harry's case, it's both.
＊ Pathema Proteleia by @persephoneflouwers [M, 53k, Louis/Harry]
A few years ago, Omega Prince Harry left his husband and mate Alpha Louis without any apparent reason. When enemies of the Royalty make an attempt on his life and threaten to hurt Omegas, Louis has to ask the Prince for help.
Or The Greek Tragedy AU (but with the happiest ending).
＊ I Want You Here With Me (Like How I Pictured It) by @enchantedlandcoffee [G, 345 words, Harry/Louis]
"I just- Everyone was there and- and they were all happy and in love and I just- I needed to get out of there, Lou." Harry sniffled, wrapping his coat closer to himself as he trudged down the street. "It's not fair. It's not fair that they all get to be happy and in love and have their partners with them when I can't be with you."
OR The one where Harry misses Louis
＊ A Frail Farewell by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings [M, 11k+, wip, Louis/Harry]
Louis can’t believe his luck when he is offered one of the easiest jobs he has had as a long-term house-sitter for the wealthy. He loves the money, and the peace and quiet of the empty mansions he looks after. Most of all he likes that there are no surprises until he gets the shock of his life from ex-pop star Harry Styles who isn’t supposed to be home.
＊ tell me what the hell we're feeling (if you don't do feelings) by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove [M, 4k, Harry/Louis]
Harry is getting over a breakup. Louis doesn't date. Neither of them is interested in a relationship -- but they are interested in each other's bodies. It takes a global pandemic for them to admit that maybe there's more than just lust between them.
＊ April Drools! by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright [E, 1k, Louis centric ot 5 pairings]
Louis offers a particularly slobbery blow job to his clients who'd rather not be made a fool of on April 1st. Of course, he's got an option for those who don't mind being a little humiliated as well. Part 12 of Glory Hole-idays
＊ I'm Praying (that you don't burn out or fade away) by @lululawrence [NR, 74k, Louis/Harry]
“Louis,” Harry breathed happily. His smile widened as he realized he’d finally found him, and he was stood before his soulstar. This was the closest they’d been in 31 Earth years, which had felt extraordinarily long for Harry, even in his star form. He could hardly withhold his happiness at seeing him again.
“Erm, yeah,” Louis said, interrupting Harry’s thoughts with his brows furrowing and looking clearly suspicious. “And you are?”
Harry and Louis are literal stars who have known they were soulmates from their creation eons ago, however when Louis came to Earth to start the next phase of their fated future, he forgot everything. Even Harry.
This leaves Harry to break the rules and instead of waiting for Louis to call him and join him on Earth, he crashes down on his own. Without Louis there to guide him and help him learn how to adjust to having a human body and everything associated with that, Harry has no other choice but to do the best he can.
As Harry tries to correct what has gone wrong, he finds that friendship can be a light even in the darkest night, and through those bonds even separated soulstars can find their fated path once more.
＊ Love Like This by @reminiscingintherain [E, 32k, Zayn/Louis/Liam]
A Zouiam RWRB AU, featuring Louis as the First Son, Liam as the Prince, and Zayn as Liam's friend and equerry. With appearances from Lottie as Louis' helpful sister, Harry as his best friend, and Niall as Liam's golf instructor (or gardener? or something else?).
＊ Ghost of a Name by @signofcomfort [G, 35k, Louis/Harry]
Louis leaves the band in the middle of the tour and drops off the face of the earth. Five years later, they might have a chance to meet him. Harry can finally have some answers and tell the truth for the first time.
- Podfics -
＊ Finally, You and I (Collide) by @lululawrence read by @podfic-pals [NR, 14k, Zayn/Louis]
Funny how Louis could sum up everything he’d had with Zayn so easily.
Ex. One syllable, two letters. Fourteen years of friendship and marriage and everything else they had been to each other, put together and explained to anyone who asked with that one tiny word. Ex. Ex-Best Friend. Ex-Lover. Ex-Husband. Ex-everything, really. Zayn had truly become his everything, and Louis still ached in the spaces within that used to be filled by him, even all these years later.
Sometimes love was a bitch.
Or the five times Louis was accidentally wooed by cookies and the one time he was purposefully wooed by brownies.
#28th appreciation#hlcreators#hljournal#hltracks#1dficvillage#trackinghappily#trackinghome#tracksintheam#ficsfor4am#cristalreads
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IM BACK AND I HAVE PERCIVER HEAD CANONS TO SHARE!!!
They meet in first year on the Hogwarts express. Percy's holding a giant book on third year divination. While this makes him a less attractive friend in the eyes of others', it's what brings Oliver Wood to the same train car as him. They introduce themselves and shake hands.
In second year, Oliver makes the Quidditch team as their keeper. Percy still spends the majority of his time indoors, but he goes to Ollie's practices and games every once in a while. After one specific game, Oliver comes back to the dorm with his breath cut short and with tears in his eyes. He stops breathing and the world goes spinning between each of his eyes; a panic attack, madame Pomphrey later describes it. The crowd triggered it.
Percy comforts him, sits on the same floor as him, rubbing the boy's back, repeating reassurance: "you're safe here,"
"You were good out there, really."
"I'll sit with you for as long as it takes."
Oliver comes to with his head on Percy's shoulder.
In third year, Percy goes to every practice and every game. He rubs Oliver's back when he returns to the dorm. When he loses for the first time, Percy has to chase him to stop him from running away, never to be found again.
"Hey, listen," Percy says, out of breath from the running. He doesn't understand how Oliver's barely breaking a sweat. "Tell me, okay? What went wrong out there?"
He gives Oliver a minute to pause and think.
Oliver gathers his thoughts and his breath. The sweat dripping down his neck fuels him, gives him energy. It clouds his head. He needs to calm down.
"I slipped on my broom." He says finally. "I wasn't planted on it properly."
"Good. What are you gonna do to fix it?" Percy replies, breathing better.
"I'll improve my grip."
"Good."
The two of them stand there, just breathing.
"Thanks."
In fourth year, they have the Yule Ball. Both of them are fifteen. Their year mates are out and about minging, asking each other out. The two of them stay where they are. They don't speak of the ball.
They go to the dance together, as friends of course. Percy keeps adjusting the collar to his hand-me-down dress robes. Oliver assures him that his attire is charming.
He sighs.
"If you had to wear these, I guarantee you'd understand me." Percy says. Over the summer his voice has changed. It's deeper and richer. Oliver loves it. Wishes he could taste it. Wishes these thoughts would go away. He grins and laughs Percy off.
When it's time to dance, they run away to a balcony that Percy didn't even know existed. They laugh and chat, making jokes at the dancers' expenses. Percy's had a bit to drink, (had he known the punch was alcoholic, he wouldn't have gone near it) and his face is flushed deep red.
"AND- and then when the-" he howls laughter. Oliver has to stop him from falling over himself.
Oliver thinks... He can't think at all. Suddenly. The two of them are so close together. He's got his arm around Percy's back and Percy's leaning against him, hands on Oliver's chest, still laughing. When he stops and catches his breath, though, the two of them seem to freeze. Oliver's heart skips a beat when he can physically feel Percy tensing up.
He kisses him.
Very awkwardly.
He made little action with his lips, just gently brushing his against the other boy's. The boy in question grins. Now it's Oliver's turn to flush deep red.
"ha-HA! No, wait, no, Oliver, wait."
Percy pulls Oliver back towards him by the arm. They're tangled with each other again, Oliver giving in to the urge to smile, just a bit, even after being embarrassed.
They kiss. Properly this time. It's the best thing Oliver's felt in his life. When they pull away, he whispers,
"Are you my boyfriend now?"
Percy smiles.
"Yes."
In fifth year, nightmares attack. O.W.Ls. Percy never sleeps anymore.
Oliver has to drag him away from his work table and force him onto his bed. When that bed later becomes repurposed for more studies, Oliver forces him onto his own bed. They sleep together and their dorm mates start getting suspicious.
Oliver sleeps in pajama bottoms and nothing else. Percy sleeps in a sweater and boxers. They spoon and Oliver rests his arm in front of Percy's only exit to stop him from crawling out of bed to study. Little does he know, Percy would never dare leave.
During the waking hours, Oliver drags Percy to other important places, such as breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The outdoors. Interaction with other human beings. It's a tough life out here for him.
When the exams finally start approaching, they do not stop making out. It's the only thing that gets Percy's mind off things. Only because there's nothing more distracting than Oliver's mouth.
To his own surprise and nobody else's, Percy passes his O.W.Ls with flying colours. Oliver passes alright despite not studying.
In sixth year it's the same for their N.E.W.Ts.
Something changes in the relationship between Percy and the rest of the student body, especially the girls. Oliver knows he's gotten taller. And his freckles have cleared enough for his gorgeous face to be visible. His voice is still as beautiful as it was in fourth year. He's started rolling up the sleeves of his sweaters, and the halls seem to swoon rapidly when they spot his forearms. Oliver always knew that Percy could have this power over people; he'd been subject to it himself. But it annoys him. And what's even worse is that Percy doesnt seem to notice when he's being flirted with.
He gets into the habit of writing on Oliver with pens, a strange Muggle device that's actually pretty nifty. Some mornings, Oliver wakes up with markings he doesn't even remember. Percy writes on his chest a lot. Draws on his collarbone. The most repeated word is Percy's name.
Oliver looks in the mirror one day, at his shirtless body.
PROPERTY OF PERCIVAL IGNATIUS WEASLEY
It says this all over his torso.
He grins. No one's stealing Percy from him anytime soon.
They pass their N.E.W.Ts.
The Summer Before Seventh Year
France is a gorgeous place, Oliver realises. Filled with gorgeous girls, too. He's lounging at the beach when one of them asks him out. He's put on the spot and exposed, wearing nothing but his swimming shorts and sunglasses. He fumbles over his words.
"Err, I mean, no..." The girl frowns. She has gorgeous eyes. "I mean, yes, sure. Is Friday at 7 PM okay with you?"
It doesn't even occur to him that she's a Muggle.
Immediately after he's uttered these words, he regrets it. But he can't stand her up. And she's already walking away. Merlin, Percy's gonna kill him.
It's just one date and Oliver doesn't even enjoy. They don't touch each other at all; they don't even hold hands. But Oliver knows what he's done, and he knows what he has to do.
He writes a letter.
I love you. I'm sorry. I couldn't live with myself if I kept it secret.
He sends it away with his black owl.
At the Burrow, Percy receives two letters back to back on his birthday. The first is from Hogwarts, confirmation that he's this year's Head Boy. He jumps around the kitchen, all dignity forgotten, and hugs his mother with an enormous grin on his face.
The second is from Oliver.
How quickly Percy's face turns sour. Mrs Weasley asks if he's okay.
Tears sting his eyes. Outside, he tells his mother everything.
One day before the start of the school year, the Weasley's are staying at the Leakey Cauldron overnight. Percy hears pebbles being thrown at his window and goes to see who it is.
Oliver Wood. Merlin.
Percy goes downstairs, striding towards his partner. Punches him in the face and immediately feels bad, but doesn't let that stop him. His voice is somewhere between a whisper and a yell and a sob,
"How could you?"
"I'm so sorry, Percy."
"Why did you do it?"
"We didn't do anything. Didn't touch her. I remember what you wrote on me."
Percy breathes in deep.
"I wasn't talking about just your body, Oliver. I was talking about you. All of you." He exhales, trying to hold himself together.
"I wouldn't think twice about rejecting some Muggle girl for you. You think I didn't notice when the whole female population at school suddenly wanted to date me? Just because of my body? I resisted them for you, Oliver. Because I love you. Why couldn't you do that for me?"
"I don't know. I'm so, so sorry."
They decide to take a break from their relationship. When they start attending school again, their dorm mates wonder why they've stopped sleeping together.
#perciver#percy weasley#oliver wood#hp#<3#this turned very angsty indeed#wrote this from 1AM to 2AM on low battery because it needed to be written#youre welcome
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Is Your Brother Luke? Part 1.
First part of my first AU:
Dad!Luke x Lillian
Is Your Brother Luke? Part 1.
Summary: Jack opens the door to be greeted by the parents of a girl Luke got pregnant pre his frozen four.
Warnings: giving up parental rights (sort of), missing out on child’s life, mentions of rough pregnancy / hard delivery,
🌻💚 🌻💚 🌻💚 🌻💚 🌻💚 🌻💚 🌻💚 🌻
Jack had fallen asleep on the couch some hours ago now that the sun had gone, but now was abruptly awoken by the harsh knocking on his front door.
Jack sluggishly took himself to the door. He gave himself a moment, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and clearing his throat before opening the door to reveal a couple who could not have been much older than his parents. Giving them a quick glance over he groggily asked, “Can I help you?” He sent them his famous look of being annoyed yet questioning. “Yes actually. You can.” The man standing directly behind the woman answered. His tone is a bit too hasty for Jack’s liking.
Jack instantly straightened his shoulders feeling as if he needed to be on guard for something he wasn’t too sure of just yet.
“Your brother got our daughter pregnant a little over a year and a half ago. The punk never bothered to come around during her rough pregnancy, the terrible delivery, or the first parts of her life” The man took a moment to breathe in almost like he said all that in one breath the continued. “Well now our little girl is gone and we can’t take care of his kid so it's time to grow up.”
The man is still oozing with hasty angry words.
Jack is reeling. He’s trying to not get hasty back with the man, presumably the father, he did just say his little girl was gone. Does that mean she died? Did she just up and leave her kid?
But Jack loves his brothers and he is protective of them. He can’t just let these two strangers make accusations on one of them. Rumors spread like wildfire. Rubbing the back of his neck and looking anywhere but the couple he started speaking on behalf of Quinn and Luke. “I. I have two brothers. My older brother would never. And my younger brother was in college during the time you’re talking about I do—“ The woman at his doorstep stopped his rambling. “Is your younger brother’s name Luke?” She asked him. Her voice was soft and nothing like the man’s who was glaring down at Jack. Jack swallowed hard and nodded at her. “Luke Warren Hughes?” She gave Luke’s full government name, her eyes holding on to the smallest speck of hope and Jack knew they were telling the truth. “Yes ma’am. That..That’s my brother.” Jack choked out, unsure and nervous of what the next few moments were about to bring to him. More important what it was about to bring to Luke.
Luke was just right upstairs, Jack just couldn’t bring himself to get him. He didn’t trust these people to not go after him. If their daughter was gone because of Luke, what would they do to him? Jack’s head was spinning a million times a minute. He had zoned out after the confirmation that Luke indeed was tied into this, lost in his own thoughts.
The woman had softly placed her hand on his shoulder to bring him back to reality. “We didn’t catch your name?” “Oh uhm sorry, it’s Jack.” She gave him a soft reassuring smile. She definitely was the one holding all of them together out of this. The grumpy fed up grandpa, the nerve rattled young uncle, the unknowing 20 year old brand new dad upstairs, and the sweetheart grandma.
“Jack, meet your niece, Lillian Wren Hughes.” The woman took a step to the side to reveal a sleeping baby girl tucked away in a car seat. Jack felt tears pool at the brim of his eyes as he stared at the precious little human before him.
“Our little girl in the midst of being alone, not having your brother there, plus all the problems she endured carrying her and then..” the sweet woman couldn’t control the sob that finally broke through.
“Then the issues she had while delivering her. She still insisted she was given the Hughes name. It was also a must that she be named after him in some fashion. Hence Wren, female for Warren.” Her husband finished for his wife. Jack’s eyes were darting everywhere. Between the woman, the beautiful baby, and the man. His heart was pounding in his chest. Luke had really created a beautiful tiny human. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the cryptic situation with child’s mom though.
“I hate to ask, I don’t want to intrude or be rude..but what happened to your daughter?” Jack asked so softly he wasn’t sure if he said it out loud. “Uhm in case Luke asks where she is? Or or or Lillian one day. I want to be prepared. I don’t want to lie to either one of them.” He quickly follows up. “It’s okay to ask son, but do you mind if we come in? She doesn’t need to be out much longer. We can set up some basic stuff.” The man’s previous anger has wavered to a lesser degree.
Once he saw the love in Jack’s eyes for his niece the moment he laid eyes on her he knew his granddaughter is going to be okay.
The woman takes a hold of the car seat where Lillian is still sleeping contently while the two men bring in the necessities that the couple brought with them. A couple of boxes of her clothes, toys, bottles, and they brought some baby furniture to prevent needing to buy any. “Not like we’re going to be needing this stuff anymore anyways..” the man laughs dryly. Jack didn’t know what to say. Looking down at the box labeled ‘lilli’s favorites’ to avoid eye contact with him.
On the last trip out, Jack sends Luke a text instructing him to stay in his room at all costs until he tells him it’s all clear. No questions asked. Then a second text telling him that they were going to have a long talk later.
🌻💚 🌻💚 🌻💚 🌻💚 🌻💚 🌻💚 🌻💚 🌻
Author’s Note: part 2 will lead into details of Luke’s previous love interest and what happened. Any warnings will be listed before the part
#dad!luke#luke hughes x oc#dad!luke x lillian#Lillian Wren Hughes#luke hughes au#jack Hughes#luke hughes fic#luke hughes blurb#nhl fic#nhl blurb#hockey fic#hockey blurb#Hughes fic#Hughes blurb#cay writes#new writers on tumblr
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Back and Forth - part 6.2
Part 6 - Back-Up 2/2
Type: series; agent!reader, inhuman!reader
Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 14500 (cough-)
Chapter summary:
In which it's your turn to look back at the events at the Hydra base and have a revelation or two. And some of these involve a certain Captain.
Series masterlist
Warnings: blood, mentions of canon-typical violence and injuries and possible death, unhealthy relationship with pain, mentions of chronic illness, issues with self-worth as a courtesy of a completely shitty parenting, language, feels and fluff ✨ Please, let me know any time if you think I missed any!
A/N: ALWAYS MIND THE WARNINGS; dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕; moodboard is for the vibes and does not necessarily reflect reader’s appearance
A/N2: hello, loves, thank you for your patience and enjoy nearly 15k worth of words. Ehm. If you want to break it into two parts, I recommend you to do so at the change in POV (but know that it's in like 2/3 of this part 🥲) Enjoy ✨
The swirl of delicate fabric around your ankles came with a soft swooshing sound, a faint glimmer catching your eye as the light reflected off the sparkles peppering your dress. Warm hand between your shoulder blades holding you securely to a firm body, the other cradling your hand gently. Gaze trailing from the bowtie over the faintest hint of stubble and plush lips curled in a barely-there warm smile, bright eyes soft with affection that still sent butterflies flipping their wings like mad in your stomach. The subtle caress of his thumb over the silver of skin revealed by the tiny opening of the dress on your back causing you to shudder, heat pooling in your abdomen.
He noticed the effect his minute touch had on you. He must have, the loveable bastard, because his smile earned the familiar innocently wicked edge, his pupils dilating just a fraction, his thigh slipping between yours further with the next step, firm muscle feeling like a teasing taste of heaven against your centre.
“Steve-“
“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he whispered, lips at your ear, brushing down the sensitive skin of the column of your throat, the masculine scent of him enveloping your senses, your head tipping back to make space for his demanding lips. The graze of his teeth had you whimper, hips rocking against him, a soft menacing ‘oh doll’ rolling off his tongue before all pretence of what used to be a dance was gone, hand slipping to your lower back, encouraging you to press into him further, his other hand releasing yours in favour of cradling your jaw and leading your parted lips to his hungry ones. “My beautiful doll… I’ve got you.”
You sighed as you could already almost taste his lips, a tingle burning on your own, instinctively chasing after the pleasure they could provide when you felt their warmth retreat.
You winced when the touch of his hands disappeared too, all but a brush of fingertips remaining, wet and sticky; flash of crimson on his skin, startled gaze, sharp orders followed by words of soft reassurance whispered between heavy breaths, intrusive acrid smell of copper and chemicals causing you to scrunch your nose. Blue and purple of your gown turning black, pristine white shirt torn and drowned in terrifying red; a flash of glowing symbols, an absurdly evil smile replacing Steve’s face in your vision. Gunshot. Body flying backwards. Gun going off twice more. The world tilting to side. Heavy, painless crash. Beeping. That goddamn fluorescent lamp.
A gasp.
You blinked your eyes open, acutely aware of the twitch of your fingers feeling uncertain and heavy.
A dimly-lit room with a few bright points.
A flicker of grey and rust-like red on your right, flash of white on your left. A lab coat.
You drew in another sharp breath, startled, pulse hammering in your temples in fright; Doctor Barret. You were still-
“Well good afternoon, Spectre. You with us for a while this time?” a familiar voice asked, causing you to snap your head from the white coat worn by a doctor who was most definitely not Doctor Barret when you actually looked at him. Even as the menacing glint in Hydra’s doctor eye still flickered in your mind, your brain registered you got a glimpse the pleasant neutral face of a man you vaguely recognized as one belonging to the AI medical team, before you turned your eye to the right.
There, you were met with a subtle smirk on the face of a redhead; Natasha Romanoff, the world’s deadliest spy, a title she was perhaps sharing with Agent May.
Uncomfortably vivid flashes of memories flooded your brain as you were coming to, your heart racing; but upon seeing Natasha, you felt your body relax into the bed. Because you were in a bed – and you were most definitely not in a Hydra facility, but at the Tower’s med bay.
They had come to the rescue. Daisy had come. And probably many other too; you recalled voices, shouting, hissing, whimpering, a glow behind your closed eyelids-
You shot up on your bed, biting back the dull but very intense tug of pain in your thighs as you sat up with a startle. The glow.
“The artifact! Natasha, they can’t touch it, we don’t know-“
A gentle hand landed on your arm; you didn’t realize how close she was standing until she touched you, your heart, having jumped in fright at the mere idea of someone else getting tangled in the mess Kree artifacts tended to stir, pounding wildly at what was probably meant to be a soothing gesture.
Was that even safe, touching you? What if she got involved by merely doing that? What if the power somehow transferred---
--alright, that didn’t make any sense, because the brainless sadistic Hydra jerks had touched you as well, probably with no consequence, but-
“Relax. Breathe. The artifact is taken care off, locked up as of now,” Natasha stated calmly, her eyes roaming your face with what you were pretty certain was concern, even as she retreated her hand. “Doc, could you-“
The doctor – you were quite sure his name was Doctor Cuesta – excused himself in an instant, promising to check on you later and left without protest. Such was the power of Natasha Romanoff’s words; no questioning an order or even a request, just following it.
Some might find it odd, but to you, such behaviour was nothing new – you’d expect nothing less.
The baffling part of the scene would be the presence of Natasha by your bedside. That itself made for a peculiar but warm feeling in your gut, the only plausible reason for that being that she had come to check up on you; but it was another thing entirely to allow yourself to realize that the probability of you waking up the one moment she was here before she’d move on to tend to other things was almost absurdly low.
Which meant she wasn’t only checking up on you, but actually was spending some time here. And that was a hard thing to swallow, even as it tasted a little sweet.
The rational part of you was very firm in its reasoning that perhaps she and other Avengers took turns in your room just in case a new side effect of the power switch appeared and needed to be tackled, and now it was simply Natasha’s time.
The reckless part of you, the sentimental fraction of that part of you, shyly suggested that she was simply here because she cared. It wasn’t entirely unheard of that she was capable of feeling, naturally. Ater all, she had let a few people peek behind the hard shell of the Black Widow, Bucky Barnes making the top of the list.
It was just rather strange that you were included in that group of people at all.
And yet.
It still wasn’t the strangest thing about the whole scene.
As relief flooded your veins, the most acute fear having been soothed for the moment since you were no longer in Hydra’s clutches, you noticed that the already surreal scene – with all your senses in overdrive and dulled at once, probably due to whatever meds they were pumping into you through the i.v., which you had only just noticed – was a full fever dream. Because as the doctor left, your gaze caught on another person in the room. One that had had to been there the whole time, silent, only an echo of his harsher breaths having been reaching your ears, too quiet for you to notice before. And his cerulean eyes were firmly set on you, a tired minute smile on his lips.
The one person whom your very next words would have concerned, because your thoughts were consumed by him as well.
He was wearing a sling on his right arm and shoulder, a butterfly band-aid over what was probably a cut over his brow, a dark shiner on his cheek. Dressed in a simple grey hoodie and black sweats, he seemed as hulk-like as usual, even if worn to a bone and slightly hunched in his chair; but intent as he rose to his feet, stepping closer to your bed.
Now his presence was truly puzzling, even as it shouldn’t be, you supposed. Despite that, however, confusion was a feeling firmly pushed out by a very different sentiment, a whole sea of it.
Your shoulders sagged as you felt tension you hadn’t been aware of melt off your body; because he was okay. Well, as okay as one could be after what you had been through.
Steve was okay.
You were alive. Both of you.
And you were home.
Safe.
Despite the raging storm of sensations and emotions that seeing him stirred, it was relief that crashed into you with enough force to turn your eyes uncomfortably glassy.
It was over. It really was over.
There must have been so much mess to sort through; you had no idea where you stood with the powers exchange, had even less of an idea about where you stood with Steve, Captain Rogers, The Mighty Captain, the jerk, the kindest soul – but the horror was over.
Hydra would not shoot you in the head; Hydra would not cut you open and dig around in your body with glee, discovery that required experimentation. Not today.
And Steve was okay.
“Hey,” you whispered, the single word slipping off your lips unwittingly, causing his smile to widen, his eyes lighting up with life – and with a speckle of concern. Because of course he had noticed your tears welling up a bit.
The flash of a memory of his eyes, truly glowing with something, affection and desire, had your cheeks burn and your stomach flip in as much excitement as shame; that had been just a dream. A very, very nice dream that you could surely blame on medication just in case you had been making any embarrassing noises.
However, if you had, Steve didn’t mention it. Instead, he greeted you with a ‘hey’ in return, with a gentle sound of your name.
The feeling in your belly stirred by that had nothing to do with shame this time; the corners of your lips turned upwards without conscious effort. You felt fresh wave of heat rise to your cheeks; it was no doll or sweetheart, but it wasn’t Spectre either, nor Agent.
Wherever you stood with him now, it wasn’t at a distance; and it wasn’t on a battlefield where you’d face each other either.
The sound of someone clearing their throat snapped you from what probably looked like embarrassing gazing, Natasha’s lips curling up further in concerningly knowing amusement.
“As I was saying. No need to worry about the artifact now. Between the glowing, live feed, Steve telling us and Johnson being able to recover the draft of the message you were trying to send from the auction, we knew enough to keep our hands off,” she explained. “And if that wouldn’t have done it, Johnson had a few colourful curses for us when she saw the symbols, mostly about all things Kree, so that was quite a dead giveaway.”
For all the new information, the corners of your lips twitched at the last piece of it. Of course. You could imagine that after everything that happened especially to Daisy, she would have had a plethora of swearwords at her disposal for such situations.
It wasn’t like your last shared Kree escapade had been kind to you either; you might have not been mind-controlled by an ancient Inhuman named Hive to turn against your team like she had been, but you had sort of been the person who turned out to be the SHIELD agent from a vision of the future Daisy had once been offered; stuck on a quinjet aimlessly flowing through space right before the craft exploded. The memory of body-wrenching invasion, Hive’s clutches having been slowly seeping into your spectre even as you had been snapping back from the quinjet so your spectre wouldn’t end scattered all over the Milky Way, still made you shudder and had made for recurring nightmares.
For a single alien race, Kree sure had messed with your life enough for ten lifetimes already.
Chasing away the dark memories, you latched onto another piece of information; Steve had told them about the artifact. That meant he had been conscious when they had picked him up, or at least hadn’t been unconscious for long. Certainly not longer than you. Which meant that even though he looked a little worse for wear – he was beautiful still, it truly was unfair, you’d bet you looked like an utter mess, while he looked like a warrior demi-god who needed a little nap – he truly was mostly fine.
You couldn’t but wonder if the serum was the reason for that.
“Fair enough,” you hummed absently before your gaze turned back to Steve, drawn to him like a magnet.
He was still smiling a bit, the concern evident on his face; it reminded you of the way he had watched you back in the cell and despite the cold fear that had gripped you several times back there, all you felt now was warmth; because the flash of dreadful memory of blood and pain digging into your mind came with a soft memory of his tender touch. Unfairly, beautifully tender touch of his hands that had not been strictly limited to treating your wounds.
You cleared your throat, attempting to snap your mind back to the present and much more business-like reality. “So… the artifact is safe, locked away. Does that mean we’re back to normal? We’ve got our abilities back?”
You should probably be able to tell on your own; but with no doubt generous dose of medication in your system, evaluating the intensity of stimuli to your senses was… rather difficult.
Steve’s smile grew an even more tired note when Natasha shot him a meaningful look at your question and he shook his head, causing your lips to part in surprise.
“Not yet,” he said simply, returning Natasha’s glare before he fully turned his attention to you, moving to the left side of your bed. It felt like you had an angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other; and despite their looks, Steve’s hair always resembling a halo and Natasha’s being distinctly devilish red, you weren’t sure who was which. Why weren’t you back to normal? Why- “First, we’re not sure how exactly the artifact works and we’re not risking anything before Agent Campbell goes through the archives and Jiaying’s notes. Secondly… frankly, we think we should stay like this a little longer. We agreed you could definitely benefit from more time with accelerated healing. What do you say?”
You opened your mouth and then closed it again, no sound coming out. Your gaze flickered back to Natasha – it seemed she had quite a lot to say about that, but she didn’t make a sound. At least not here, not in front of you.
Guilt instantly bit into your stomach.
The longer you benefited from the effects of the serum, free of pain, the longer Steve suffered, caught in completely unnecessary pain. The latter was simply unacceptable and the former… well. That was always a dangerous thing for you to trifle with. Painless days – even as you were not completely pain-free now – were a thing of dreams you’d easily grow used to. You never had tried heavy drugs for the fear of having your performance messed up, but ever since you had gained your powers and discovered what they entailed, you imagined painless days as a mixture of heroin and morphine; euphoria and relief.
You’d soon start craving that cocktail once you wouldn’t be able to get your hands on it. The sudden absence would cause absolute havoc in your life.
But even if you accepted that; it wasn’t fair at all. It wasn’t fair at all that Steve should suffer consequences of your abilities and its faults. You understood the concerns about unpredictability of using the artifact, but besides that, it shouldn’t even be a subject to discussion.
So you couldn’t say you didn’t understand Natasha’s meaningful look at Steve or her stance; except perhaps you didn’t. Because when you dared to meet her gaze, fully expecting reproach, she was smiling instead, perhaps a little exasperatedly; and while you had misjudged her behaviour before, she appeared genuine in her concern. She might not like seeing her friend in pain in the slightest, but she heard the argument loud and clear. And perhaps, whether one could call you something akin to friendly colleagues or not, she didn’t revel in seeing you in pain either.
Yet, Steve saying they had agreed, whoever the ‘we’ was supposed entail, felt like a farce.
You might be on pain medication, the world slightly hazier than normal, but it was abundantly clear that Stevewas the one who had decided and accepted no counter-arguments. He could get like that sometimes. The infamous ‘everyone’s input counts, don’t be afraid to say your piece, we are a team’ of his flew out of the window if he felt strongly about something.
And he apparently felt very strongly about this.
You gulped as you gathered courage to look at him again, a not-so-quiet voice whispering sleazily about how pathetic you were and about that being the reason why he wanted to wait with the exchange. About how he had seen you at such a low point he could never believe you were good enough for any mission ever again, deciding that you were weak and needed all the support you could get to even survive, to even-
-but the emotions playing on his face, even as you couldn’t decipher them all, didn’t speak of contempt or pity. His smile remained nothing but soft, without a single hint of perceived or believed superiority of his own being. And without as much as a hint of him minding being in pain and taking longer to heal, not when it helped someone else, not when-
God, how that lit up fire in you, how that drove you up the wall. That stupid perfect ultimate good guy with a hero complex, his absurdly big heart larger than his already impressive body, so irritatingly kind, wrapped in a flag of self-sacrifice for good of others--- god, how you despised him for being that good. How you admired him for the very same reasons.
“But you-“
“I have one fully patched-up gunshot wound, mostly just a scratch, a few cuts and bruises, and a transfusion and some quality painkillers in my system,” Steve listed evenly, clearly having expecting your protest.
Those don’t work on the chest however, you reminded yourself, your gaze probably conveying the message even as you hadn’t said it, because Steve’s eyebrow arched slightly. “I’ll sleep it off. And I will heal the rest once I have my abilities back… we think. So truly. Your body needs the serum a lot more than mine.”
The lump that had started growing in your throat under Steve’s watchful gaze expanded further, suffocating and warming at once.
His choice of words felt like everything but accidental: your body. Not ‘you’.
Because that bastard, that infuriatingly observant sweet bastard, even without his serum momentarily but with about a hundred of injuries big and small, remembered and understood that feeling like less, being called less especiallyby someone like him andhim in particular, even if not intentionally, set off your attitude. He knew that now; because you had put almost all your cards on the table back in the Hydra facility. The fact it hadn’t been all cards clearly meant nothing; because when Steve had chosen the words, when he had seen, you might have been under at least two covers and in a hospital gown, but you’d be damned if you didn’t feel completely naked and exposed.
And the absolutely scariest part was… that it wasn’t as scary as you’d have expected it to be.
Not in front of him. Not when he had seen you at the bottom of the pit already. If anything, this was progress; after all, you were fully conscious and he wasn’t tearing your thigh-highs to shreds for the sole reason of treating two bullet wounds. But still. He was watching you with such a knowing gaze and yet, you weren’t bolting and it had nothing to do with your momentary inability to do about a single step. The tidal wave of emotions washing over you at that realization was… baffling and disconcerting to say at least. And rather difficult to process.
And his eyes… that gaze, so damn inquiring, caring and soft. It made your skin prickle and your fingers tingle and not all of it was entirely unpleasant.
“And before you ask, I admit I don’t like it, seeing either of you in pain, but I second that,” Natasha said, snapping you from your thoughts even as her voice was quiet, no doubt sensing this was a lot. And perhaps she was feeling a bit like an intruder. An intruder to what exactly? You would not dare to give it a name or ponder about it too much; it would only bring you a headache. Worse, a heartache. “You need to heal and we have no clue about the risks yet. So. I’m going to call Agent Campbell to check on his progress… Excuse me. And in the meantime, rest. Both of you. Feel better.”
She sweetened her last words with a smile and another meaningful look at Steve, whatever that was about; your best guess was that she was calling him out on not resting properly and being here in your room instead. Then, she cleared the space, the door sliding close behind her quietly.
Why was Steve here in your room instead of resting?
The question was silly really – you already had your answer. You would have known even before he had admitted to you back in the cell just how profoundly responsible he felt for his team and their wellbeing. He felt responsible for his subordinates and equals alike. He cared; though depriving himself of accelerating healing for your benefit seemed like an overkill.
And it certainly felt like a lot more than should be done for you.
You already had the best medical team in the country if not in the world at your disposal, one that could accommodate you and your Inhuman mutation, more than well-equipped to deal with the fact that it now somehow combined with the effects of Steve’s serum. It was already a lot more privilege than an average agent should have. Using the accelerating healing felt like an unfair profit and you wanted to protest despite being grateful and despite the valid argument Steve made.
But one single look at Steve told you arguing was useless. One look at the faint flame of determination in his eye and you heard the echo of his words from the cell clear as day.
You’re a person first, an asset to the team next.
You deserve to rest, you deserve having your needs met, you deserve to be treated like a damn human being.
You deserve better than that. And you are sure as hell going to get that when you’re with us.
The lump in your throat grew another three times bigger, the burn of tears in your eyes intensified; but you spilled none, swallowing heavily instead. There was a faint buzzing in your temples, but you tried to ignore that. Because this was important. If you weren’t about to try and argue Steve out of doing something stupid as you usually did and should, because you’d have about as much success as trying to move a mountain, you might as well express your gratitude at least.
“Thank you for checking up on me,” you rasped, clearing your throat; your tongue felt a little heavy too, especially when he smiled and you did not want to think about why. “For agreeing… for deciding about the… postponing the switch. I’m sorry, I don’t—it’s hard to form words, I-...”
It’s hard to say ‘thank you’ when you look at me like there’s no reason for that gratitude.
When you look like it’s all as easy and matter-of-course courtesy as holding a door open for a woman.
When you look at me, now, without an imminent threat to our lives, and the things we talked about still hang in the air, exposing so many things that I never wanted to see the light of the day.
When you’re doing me an enormous favour and you look like it’s not just because of believing it’s the right thing to do, but maybe, just a little, because it’s for me.
“Of course. And don’t worry, they did mention they have a bit of trouble to balance our dosages of medication, unsure about the serum effects or the lack of it,” he said, so casually kindly again.
“Right,” was all you managed to muster.
Medication miscalculation was most definitely not the only reason why you had trouble speaking; if Steve realized that and he was giving you an out, you couldn’t tell, but didn’t want to investigate. You were simply grateful for not having to explain what might have been written all over your face despite trying your damnest to look mostly neutral and probably failing epically.
The silence that settled tasted a little awkward; as you tried, in the subtlest way possible, to assess Steve’s body language, mulling over his words again, you felt a fresh stab of guilt. He was hunched over a little – and he had mentioned that the med team had issues managing his pain too. They didn’t know how to deal with his natural pain, because his metabolism changed too; as if it wasn’t enough there was nothing they could do for the extra pain in his chest.
And you could easily rid of that, probably of both.
He'd deserve that. More than anyone you had ever met.
What kind of a person were you to deny him that? You shouldn’t. You couldn’t. You didn’t ant to argue with him, not when whatever progress you had made in your relationship was so fragile, but… you couldn’t let him do that.
“Steve, about that switching, I don’t think it’s the best idea to wa-“
“I do,” he said firmly, straightening his posture a bit. Whether that was to establish dominance – as if he wasn’t already standing while you were semi-lying – or to cover up for the fact his chest was no doubt hurting like son of a bitch still, you weren’t sure. But he did; and when he spoke again, you had to admit it was probably the latter. “I’m fine. How are you feeling?”
God, that stubborn son of a-
You bit down the curse, mildly, very mildly mollified by the warm smile – with the subtlesthint of mischief – he charmed up as he tilted his head, waiting.
So you sighed instead.
He gave you time as you allowed yourself to feel your body, the muscles of your legs stiff and relaxed at once, a significantly duller ache than you’d expect, exhaustion seeping deep in your bones despite having barely just woken up. As you kept assessing, pondering about the right balance of honesty and propriety, Steve’s eyes flickered to a nearby chair standing barely a few feet from him, then back to you with an unspoken but clear question.
Despite your better judgement, you nodded, belly warm at the idea of him staying a little longer when you were indeed not in imminent danger and he was still being amicable with you.
He wanted to stay.
He wanted to know how you felt; he considered you a one of the people he felt truly responsible for.
He cared.
You shouldn’t be so content, shouldn’t give in, certainly shouldn’t be feeling like you were slowly melting on the inside. Your heart shouldn’t be fluttering. But you had already established your judgement was impaired at best, didn’t you?
And again, despite your better judgement, you also told Steve the truth. There was simply something in his eyes as he watched you with concern but a small smile, clearly content you had granted him his wish to sit down and stay a little longer instead of screaming your disagreement to his face, that just made you actually want to tell the truth. To be on honest terms.
“I’m… a little less than fine, I guess,” you admitted reluctantly, only to see his smile slip, gaze instantly drawn to the nurse button by your bed. But a nurse would not help you with this; not with feeling rather lost in all the sensations and emotions and feeling like you were losing your last defences to the all-kinds-of-gorgeous man by your bedside. “But I… I would have been dead without you.”
Steve shook his head in dismissal.
The sudden urge – to make him seethat dismissing all he had done as if it was some kind of a common courtesy was utter nonsense –flared up in your chest with intensity, shooting straight into your veins even before he spoke up.
“You removed the bullets yourself-“
“And you took care of me. You--- you protected me. With everything you had and caught a bullet for that, because I needed-“
“I needed to do at least something,” he interrupted you in turn, your mouth falling shut at the urgency of his tone, the atmosphere suddenly heavier and thicker than just a moment ago with something you couldn’t quite grasp except for feeling the gravity and passion behind Steve’s words. “The fact that I, at least partly, got us into that situation was just one of many reasons why. And you, you warned us that that might happen, and yet when it came, you didn’t throw it in my face, not really, but instead fought tooth and nail, suffering the consequences of a mistake that was not your own and tried you damnest to help even when you were fighting for your life. Healing a little faster than usual is the least you deserve and me having done what I did and enabling that healing now is the least I can do.”
You swallowed heavily, not daring to move otherwise, not ready to make a sound; too stunned. His words were heavy with guilt, bright with sincerity and laced with the echo of those in the cell again.
You deserve better than that. And you are sure as hell going to get that when you’re with us.
And you understood. You understood that the guilt he had revealed might have been a strong motivator of his, but not the only one. He wanted to do that for you. Because he cared.
The thought was dizzying still, but with that, you supposed you could live. You could live, even though with heavy conscience, with him choosing to wait if it eased his conscience. It wasn’t written anywhere that the switch couldn’t happen right tomorrow – just not right now. Whenever that might occur, however, the delay was still an enormous sacrifice; one worthy of Captain America. One worthy of Steve Rogers.
It would enrage you to no end that he was willing to do that, if it only didn’t make your heart flutter.
You licked your lips, mouth having gone dry as you found yourself under his burning gaze the whole time you pondered your answer.
“I--- thank you, Steve. And not just for that. I am still grateful for what you did for me back there too… and how.”
And you meant that too.
Because you did remember with painful and startling quality. Remembered how tender and careful his hands had been, how soothing his voice had sounded, how sincere his words had been. You hadn’t really deserved such softness; and certainly, when looking back, hadn’t expected it either – used to a cold shoulder, drills and words that couldn’t be farther from the endearments Steve’s lips spilled – even as you had known Steve was simply a unique kind of man.
You’d always be grateful for all of it, even as his actions had been a double-edged sword.
Thank you for what you did and how; even if it ruined me forever. Even if it crushed most if not all the walls I had built so meticulously so I wouldn’t jump into the void of allowing myself to feel anything but caution, irritation and insanely bothersome admiration when it came to you.
The memory of his soft touch would haunt you forever; it had already haunted your dream, after all, the endearments whispered by his lips in a context and situation imagined, but fed by a real memory.
At your words, Steve smiled a bit, concern and determination replaced by sheer warmth that felt like a fluffy blanket caressing your skin, inviting you to sink into its softness.
“Anytime, doll.”
The conviction in the single word strummed your heartstrings gently; the endearment, falling from his lips so effortlessly again, tugged at them violently and made you shiver.
Your chuckle sounded foreign and nervous, the heat blooming in your chest a little heavy.
“Is that going to be a thing now?”
Steve sat up straighter in an instant, only reminding you of how close he had leaned forward to you before; he appeared a little flushed, a tinge of pink in his cheeks, expression one of a boy caught with a hand in the cookie jar. It took away five years of his handsome face and it was beautiful.
It was such an awfully sweet picture that the nerves melted away, giving into the gentle fire instead.
“Oh. Sorry, I-“
“No, I-… I like it…” you admitted unwittingly, slowly, feeling your cheeks burn with heat and your lungs with panic, because what were you doing? What were you thinking, not only feeling it, but confessing to that, no matter how true it was. You couldn’t--- you shouldn’t- “I think,” you added quickly.
You fooled no one.
But oh, that brilliant smile Steve’s lips split into and his fingertips brushing over your hand laxly laid on the bed, before his hand gently enveloped yours, made that admission damn well worth it. Even if your chest felt paper-thin, with your pounding heart threatening to burst right through.
God, you were glad you only had the oximeter on your other hand and were not attached to the kind of ECG that was hooked to a beeping monitor. You’d die of embarrassment if Steve could actually hear the somersaults your heart was doing; you were set on the course of committing ritualistic suicide by allowing yourself to feel that way already, there was no need to add to it, really, no need to let him hear-
And yet you couldn’t imagine you truly would care if he heard. Not when his warm hand carefully squeezed yours, a flicker of apprehension in his gaze when he did so, almost as if he was – arguably rightfully – worried it would make you pull your hand back.
But you did no such thing; like a fool. Like a fool in lo- no. That was so not a wise direction for your thoughts.
“Yeah,” Steve hummed, his shoulders sagging a bit when you not only hadn’t yanked your hand free, but instinctively – yes, certainly, it was pure reflex, not a conscious decision at all, right? – briefly squeezed back. “Me too.”
There was something setting off all alarm bells inside you at the direction you were both steering towards; but there was also something chasing tears of relief and affection into your eyes.
Because what you were experiencing, what you were seeing, was precious on so many levels.
Sweet. Vulnerable. Less than confident.
Stubborn. In pain not entirely hidden. Slipping. Soft.
New layers of Steve uncovered, revealed voluntarily for you to see. You had willed yourself to be a little more honest and accept, however reluctantly, his kindness; and in return, he took your words to heart too, letting you see more of him than what he was used to showing.
He had admitted back in the cell that what the agents could of him, a drastically uncomplete image with virtues having painted all of it, was what he believed was necessary. Ironically, you had never found yourself admiring him more – steering faster towards the very dangerous territory of liking him and allowing yourself to feel it and giving into it – than right now.
You were not blind to the opportunity; you were not blind to the fact it cost him something too, because letting go of masks and tearing down walls was a painful and often impossible process. You appreciated it; and he deserved know that.
“And, I-“
His smile grew a little curious, intent, so genuinely interested in whatever you wanted to say that you couldn’t bear his gaze anymore, your eyes focusing on his hand on yours instead; it only stirred emotion in you further, because the sight was all kinds of peculiar. Not only because of the simple insane fact that he was holding your hand – Jesus, you needed to get a grip and not on his hand, no matter how nice that would have felt – but because of his scraped knuckles and two tiny cuts. An image unparalleled; you had never seen that. Either you weren’t shown, obviously, or the small injuries hadn’t stuck for long enough, the serum coursing his veins working its miracles and healing.
And he wanted you to have that kind of miraculous luxury for now, giving it up for your benefit. For you. It might be unfathomable, but that made it no less touching, the feeling blooming in your chest no less consuming.
That large warm pawn of his might have as well be pulling directly at your heartstrings with every second he spent in your company, with every step forward you felt he was taking.
“I… it might be just painkillers talking, but I like you better like this. I mean-- better than the perfect Captain America. Not hurt, obviously,” you said, mentally cursing your choice of words.
And cursing the confession itself. The moment you said it out loud, you realized it revealed too much. You didn’t dare to look up for the very reason; but it felt like Steve’s smile widened, your mind supplying you with an image of his eyes crinkling for some reason.
The barely-there twitch of his hand felt self-deprecating, looking back at his own behaviour critically; that made you feel a touch braver. And a bit more confident that he truly wondered what was on your mind and wanted to hear and see what you thought and who you were; bad humour included.
It only felt right to show it.
“I also liked it when you told me to tell you what to do for a change.”
You were rewarded for speaking up; with a gorgeous sound of his chuckle sending tingles down your veins, a sight of his absurdly handsome face lighting up and him leaning a bit closer, brighter, but with serious note to his cerulean eyes, the faintest hint of hesitance as his laugh faded out, only his smile remaining
“Well. I’ll deny it and will never speak of it again if you just say the word, but I just… I just like you.”
Lightning.
It struck you like a lightning, electrifying, burning and icy cold all at once. Paralysing.
If holding his hand had seemed like a risk, now he figuratively took your other hand too and led you straight into the minefield. And you might have trusted him to do that, but reached for even more humour anyway, because the feeling coiling inside you expanded with the first breath you dared to take and then further with every other and you had no clue how to contain it.
He liked you.
“Such flattery.”
It did not come out as snarky as intended; in fact, it came out just as touched as you felt, the echo of his words resonating in your very bones, the marrow crumbling and rebuilding anew. You suspected your expression revealed a little too much of how profoundly that single statement seemed to change what might be a little piece of you, but changed you fundamentally. Your voice came out a touch too vulnerable – but you supposed that was only fair. He had been vulnerable first. Right?
So why did it feel like so much? Too much.
You half-expected Steve to take it back, if not for anything, than for the very magnitude of such statement; but he kept watching you, painfully gentle and unable to take it anymore, your gaze slid lower to his chest.
The flash of a terrifying image – a ghastly memory – had you wince, the bubble Steve had seemed to create bursting, reality crashing in.
“How’s… how bad is the chest pain?”
Steve didn’t call you out on the change of topic; but his smile earned a tense edge, the briefest flash of a grimace telling you the pain was, unsurprisingly and unfortunately, barely bearable. As it tended to be when a person got shot.
But he didn’t say a word about that pain, stubborn; and perhaps he was purposely letting you get a taste your own medicine, showing you another piece of the only almost-perfect puzzle he was – a tiny bit vindictive, proving a point when given the chance. You supposed you couldn’t exactly argue that you didn’t deserve that behaviour.
Or maybe he simply didn’t want to fight, didn’t want to disturb the nice warm moment by digging into a very painful spot. Literally.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said simply.
And yet, there was an undertone to his voice, one that had your breath catch and took you all too long to figure out, only knocking the remnants of air from your lungs when you did realize what his patient gaze spoke of as well.
This was not only his answer to you.
This was his answer to anyone who asked.
And you wanted to be mad at him, for being a hypocrite, for hiding pain, no doubt telling people he was fine, as he had told you too-
-but the motivation behind that action was not as simple and straightforward as him putting on the face he always believed was necessary. Because it was so much more complicated than. Because it was about you too.
That was what he was telling you.
You did not believe that it would last. There was no universe in which Steve Rogers would make a discovery of such nature and kept it for himself, or would keep it but let it slide without any consequence, good or bad; but for now, he did. He hadn’t revealed your secret to anyone.
Your choked ‘thank you’, when you finally gathered enough air and wits to speak, was barely audible.
And that infuriatingly good bastard just smiled, a little conspiratory, as if he had a secret you now knew, even if it was the other way around.
“I should let you rest,” he said lowly, brushing over your gratitude – because of course he did. “Rest well. Feel better.”
Despite his words, he did not move an inch away from you; he didn’t let go either, the only movement being a painfully soft sweep of his thumb over the back of your hand, over your wrist.
The minuscule, seemingly instinctual caress made something warm hum in your chest, loud.
So unlike two weeks ago with the parting words after your fight – god, did it feel like a lifetime ago, and maybe it was, the experience of the past hours changing you, leaving you alive but reborn – you allowed yourself to respond in kind, consciously letting sincerity slip into your voice.
“You too.”
Steve smiled wide, eyes crinkling – and this time, you did see it, the image much prettier and vivid than your mind had conjured before. The feeling in your chest hummed even louder and fluttered its wings, an echo of a sweet melody and his words in your head.
I just like you.
He had exposed his heart, shared a good thing with you. That was another thing you should reciprocate, for it might be a dangerous truth, but one Steve would deserve to hear. Yet, you found yourself unable to do it.
You were no hero – not like him. There was not enough courage left to say those words – but that didn’t mean you weren’t willing to put in an effort, to hint at least. Because one thing needed to be made crystal clear; that reckless, beautiful thing, blossoming around your heart, pulling at the seams of your ribcage.
“And I… think I will want you to speak of… that again. Later?” you suggested quietly, half-expecting him to burst out with a laughter, a ‘ha gotcha!’ coming at last,; half-hoping he would do no such thing.
Sure, men being interested in your person might not be a foreign concept to you, be it your status, skills or abilities, but neither were the bets and conquests of the one with higher status and skills than their own – which for sure would not be Steve’s case. It couldn’t be. He would never.
Yet, you felt apprehension creep up your spine as you confessed; one quickly dissolved in his velvety voice.
“I’d like that too.”
You squeezed his hand back at that, vainly shushing the overly giddy sensation awoken. You really, really needed to get a grip on yourself. But you didn’t take your indirect confession back – which meant your judgement was most definitely impaired. And funnily enough, you didn’t mind one bit.
For a long moment, neither of you said a word; neither of you commented on the minute physical affection you showed, this time entirely consciously. Steve didn’t tease you about it, didn’t turn it against you in any way, nor exploited it, his smile only turning a tad warmer, without pressure.
It occurred to you it was no wonder you had been unable to say ‘I like you’ back to him; it would have been a lie. ‘Liking’ him just might be too weak of a word at the moment.
“Good,” you whispered simply, earning another caress on your hand, this time surer, firmer, but no less gentle.
Then, one last squeeze of a hand and Steve was rising to his feet at last. The way you missed the warmth of his touch instantly was downright criminal; you just weren’t sure whether it was you or him who should get arrested.
“See you soon, doll.”
Him. He was the one who should be locked up and with a warning.
Over the power of his words, a very faint sound of the door sliding open reached your ears but not your brain – so you responded in kind again.
“See you soon, stranger.”
He grinned – that criminal grinned – as if he could remember you calling him that back at the charity auction, and made his way to the door where he turned back to you just to spare you one more smile. As a consequence, he nearly collided with one Daisy Johnson before he disappeared from your sight completely.
But not before you witnessed Daisy’s appreciative onceover, a firm dutiful ‘Captain Rogers’ on her lips. Once the door slid shut, her gaze found yours, mutely, but very exaggeratingly mouthing a ‘wow’.
And you kinda wished she would have stayed in the mute mode when she actually spoke.
“Well, lucky you, doll.”
“Shut up.”
Despite your harsh words, you were smiling, feeling heat rising in your cheeks – and realizing there was a dull ache in them too. Given the fact you hadn’t been punched there, as far as you knew, it meant that your cheeks hurt from smiling too long. And you couldn’t seem to make it stop, trying, but failing as your lips instantly curled up again.
Daisy’s unoffended chuckle sounded like it was coming from an enormous distance.
What was wrong with you? What were you, a teenager? A kid?So Steve had said he liked you and held you hand for a bit, gee, yeah, a big deal. Except it was. And definitely not just because you couldn’t have stood each other – or acted like it – barely two weeks ago, which was just another thing that should make you freak out and in a way it did, because this was insane and dangerous, but--- god. The way he just casually swept his thumb over the back of your hand was doing visceral things to you; and your brain might have been screaming at you because of that, but heaven help you, you still liked it.
It was a good thing that Daisy, the closest thing you had to a friend, was here now, to bring your feet back to Earth.
Except she was about to do no such thing, naturally – damn her pure hopeful heart and dirty mouth.
“You know, I know I once said I’d like to get my hands on Thor,” she hummed, grinning, spying the chair by your bed and plopped down into it without bothering asking permission, “but I’m not picky about my Avengers… like, at all.”
You couldn’t help it; you snorted, even as an irrational growl of mine seemed to echo in your skull.
“Yeah, right, tell that to Lincoln.”
“What? I can appreciate a handsome beefcake of a man still, I have eyes!”
“Yeah, for Lincoln Campbell, your boyfriend,” you reminded her with amusement, even as she most definitely needed no reminder; the two were sickeningly, beautifully in love.
Only when she raised her eyebrow, you noticed the butterfly band aid on her forehead – it truly spoke of how out of it you were to notice it only now despite the injury literally staring into your face.
You sat up straighter, frowning. “Hey, what happened? How are you doing?”
Daisy’s right eyebrow joined the left one, her hand subtly pointing towards her – and then you.
“Me? I’m fine. You, however, have two gunshot wounds, Ms. Avenger. What the hell?”
Your smile slipped at the addressing making a return, instinct taking over. “I’m not… that, not really.”
Daisy tilted her head, her face speaking volumes.
Here was a thing about Daisy Johnson; even long before she was an agent, from what you heard, she could show very clearly when she was done with someone’s bullshit. And she was clearly expressing that she thought you were sprawling nonsense now.
You spoke quickly before she could, forcing your smile back as you remembered: “I met a girl recently, she was a fan of yours.”
“Oh? Cool! Tell me all about that,” Daisy took the bait easily, grinning with a mischief that should have clued you on something, but didn’t. “When was that? Was that during the Avengers’ Day, Ms. Avenger?”
You shot her an unimpressed glare; but the corners of your lips twitched up involuntarily at her shenanigans. Damn her. This woman. She was on a roll.
“And then, you’d better tell me all the juicy and mundane details you can about the blond beefcake… that calls you doll, apparently? You know, Coulson’s either gonna fistfight you for him or dry his tears of pride and joy for like a week.”
There was absolutely no containing the snort of laughter this time. Your cheeks burned; your belly tingled, warmth and nausea at once – but you snorted again, because that was a visual that should not be so plausible. Bless Phil Coulson and his heart. You admired him greatly, but the imagery Daisy painted should have felt much more absurd.
“You’re awful,” you accused her, giggling, not blind to her pride at her joke.
“Please, you love me.”
God help you, you did indeed. The insistent tug on the corners of your lips gave it away, as did the incredibly soothing bright feeling in your chest. Your giggles turned into a gentle smile, the gratitude you felt hopefully seeping into every word.
Because you were grateful to her – for a lot of things. You didn’t think you could put it into words; you didn’t think you truly wanted to put it into words. You just hoped that she understood. She always had.
“Thank you for checking up on me, Daisy. And for coming to the rescue in the first place,” you said, the sudden hoarseness of your voice and the burn in your eyes taking you by surprise – and with shame.
But she just smiled; because of course she did. She was a lot more than a kickass hero with a sense of humour. Most of all, she was a kind precious soul fighting the odds no one would have guessed she had to face.
She leaned closer, her expression speaking of sincerity you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to.
“Hey. Always. But please, do not test that again. You scared me… scared us. If it weren’t for another three fires that needed to be put out around the world, you’d have the full cavalry here, and I don’t mean just May,” she informed you, not giving you time to process the bombshell she just dropped and caused absolute havoc in your head. Surely, she was exaggerating- “Next gala, just get drunk and do something embarrassing, yeah? Nothing life-threatening.”
You just smiled weakly, latching onto the mischief appearing in her face again, the air feeling considerably lighter in your lungs at that.
“Now. What’s the word? Who was the girl? And… how’s the guy?”
She wiggled her eyebrows – actually wiggled her eyebrows – and you opened your mouth mutely, barely containing your smile at the sheer force of her enthusiasm. It had nothing to do that the memory of Steve’s hand on yours made you melt into the pillow again. Nothing.
Get a grip-
“He’s… it’s—complicated,” you stammered, having to admit that it was actually be the most accurate word ever to describe whatever you and Steve were. Were trying to be. Could be in some utopia land. Whatever.
Daisy grinned in return. “Riiiight, so right up your alley then, eh?”
Mentally, you scoffed. Figures, you supposed. And still – you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face.
I just like you.
Steve Rogers was most definitely entirely out of your league – a war hero who had literally fought the original Nazis, a hero of today, a demi-god in a barely human form, the gentlest man with a heart of gold and mind sharp like a knife that he only used to protect others – but as far as types of men went, he was certainly up there for you. You knew you shouldn’t reach so high, because you weren’t able to, but damn him, he made you want to try, even as the fall would hurt like son of a bitch.
“Yeah... I suppose it is.”
“Well, just so you know, there was not a single complicated thing about the way that guy was looking at ya’,” Daisy drawled confidently, crossing hr arms on her chest, watching you expectantly.
Your heart fluttered and started racing, stomach doing a funny flip-flop.
Get a grip, get a grip, he’s just--- he’s just a guy, just a guy, and you shouldn’t get your hopes up so much, you---
You pushed the burning giddy feeling away, catching yourself before you could grin and giggle and scream like a lunatic, and cleared your throat.
Daisy’s face told you that you fooled no one – or at least not her. Oh for god’s sake-
“Ehm… thanks. Duly noted. Now, about Daisy…”
“Oooh I like this girl already. Spill!”
And so you did, eternally grateful your Daisy didn’t push further. At least for now.
And if the ache in your cheeks persisted, maybe, just maybe, you only welcomed it with a wider smile.
As Steve walked down the hall, he felt the tips of his ears burning, even as what had happened between you to in your hospital room was hardly scandalous.
What was rather scandalous was the look Agent Johnson gave him when he nearly collided with her in the doorway. That woman conveyed a plethora of emotion in a single gaze; respect, curiosity, a wordless threat not to hurt her friend and somewhat platonic objectification, the reason for the flush to his skin.
True, the last part was significantly aided by his interaction with you – entirely pleasant, sweet, warm even, your hand in his certainly had been, and you had said you would like to talk about that. ‘That’ being Steve liking you. And while his choice of words was a little too simple, it clearly didn’t affect the result – and the warmth remained both on his face and in his chest.
Unfortunately, the droplets of sweat he could feel in his hairline and the rest of the flush to his face had much more to do with pain. Brutal, unrelenting pain which didn’t react to medication unlike the one coming from his actual injuries.
Now that he felt but a slight dull ache in his shoulder and arm and face, and he didn’t have other sensations to focus on, no little smiles, surprising honesty, no touch, no ‘I like you better like this’, the pain in his ribcage was nothing short of stabbing. He slouched a bit, allowing himself a few moments of reprieve since there were no witnesses momentarily; but as the ache didn’t subdue, Steve seriously questioned his decision to not bring it up not only with you, but no one at all.
The Avengers didn’t know about the issue yet – he had requested to postpone anyone watching the rest of the records from the Hydra facility until he’d review it, not even having to make up the worry he expressed about revealing too personal information or his concern about the action of showing the video to others appearing like dangling the less-than-completely-stellar moments you had shared in front of the team. While Steve held nothing but admiration for you and your strength in those moments and he was sure anyone would feel the same, he’d rather if you decided about what you wanted the team to see; the majority of what had happened at the two cells brought no useful intel anyway. However, the issue of your abilities, now that was something that needed to be shared with at least a few other people, but should be done so completely on your terms.
Which was also the reason why Steve hadn’t been interrogating and hurting the bastards who had tortured you – and it had been torture, inflicting not only pain, but fear, all for the goal of breaking you and him alike – leaving that to Natasha and Bucky instead. The Hydra operatives who were still able to speak – Steve admittedly found a little too much gratification in the fact not all of them could – might try to get a rise out of him. Or directly ask about how his chest was doing and thus steering attention to questions Steve did not want to answer since you didn’t either.
That was why he had opted for siting in your room, watching Natasha’s and Bucky’s impeccable and incredibly satisfactory work on his tablet, alternating with watching over the steadily drawn lines on your heart monitor and your calm breaths; an acceptable compromise of keeping your secret safer, keeping an eye on you, technically resting as he the doctor had ordered, and witnessing the men who revelled in hurting others metaphorically weave the rope to hang themselves on as either of Steve’s closest friends got them worked up.
Admittedly, Steve had nodded off at some point between all this, probably due to the amount of pain medication he was on and exhaustion from the pain that never left, but that wasn’t the point.
And sure – Steve didn’t plan on sitting on the information about your lingering pain forever, chest almost bursting at the seams with the need to discuss it with someone already and put a plan in motion so you’d suffer less in the future, preferably not at all, but he needed to be careful about it. Strategic. Take his time.
And process it fully himself first.
Because that was a hard, bitter pill to swallow and Steve wasn’t sure he ever would. Not the part about him not having known. Not the part about him having assumed. Not the part about feeling the extent of it on his own body. And most definitely not the part that this was how your powers worked and always had. His blood was boiling at not having known, but anger was not the only emotion stirred.
The mere idea you had suffered a pain like this, multiple times without a single soul knowing – or a single person who could have decided you wouldn’t be going on mission or even to training in such state – was horrifying and almost as paralyzing as the pain itself. And it wasn’t that Steve didn’t understand the need to push one’s self, swallow pain in order to function, to help, or didn’t admire those who could do it. He himself had bit through a fair amount of pain, more than he’d care for. But he had suffered through it only when it was absolutely necessary and lives were at stake, and you’d just--
…alright, perhaps that was a lie and he was a damn hypocrite, but that was different. You must have been suffering constantly and that was wrong and simply inacceptable.
Steve’s brain was in a slight haze, both physical and mental exhaustion catching up with him as did the suddenly lacking effects of the serum he had got used to, but he tried to strain his memory anyway. How many missions had you handled with pain not unlike the one he was feeling now? Without a single complaint, because you apparently believed complaining was notwithin your rights, because you were an agent, and pain was a part of life? Occupational hazard, easier on you than on other agents, because it was ‘only’ pain? How many of your missions had you taken on after having got hurt in your spectral form? A quarter of them? A third? He’d have to go through the records. He was going to read on every single one of them, remind you of all of them and make sure you’d never do that again. Because goddamnit you mattered.
He really thought you had believed him back at the base, but he was not so certain you’d stay in that headspace after you’d heal; he might be a hypocrite, but he was beginning to see similarities he was not appreciative of and he was more than aware that that was what he would have probably done too. But that was a problem for the future you and him and whoever would get involved.
Athe door to the communal kitchen came into focus, Steve sighed, trying to concentrate on the insistent twitch in the corners of his lips instead; because besides the persistent agony and burning, there a sweet warmth that lingered in his chest as well. A distraction, a soft painkiller that didn’t do much, but was still doing plenty.
He grasped at that straw, gripping hard as he reached the door, back straightening. He could handle the pain like this too; it wasn’t completely unbearable. It only hurt when he moved.
Or breathed.
And keeping your secret for now, keeping it safe, mattered. Because no matter whether he agreed or not, you hadconsidered your circumstance as one not allowing you to share how your abilities worked; not with him or any other Avenger, or even Coulson, since Steve hadn’t got any information of that kind when they had recruited you. Your heartbreaking ‘thank you’ back in the room had spoken volumes, nails of an invisible hand digging into Steve’s heart.
For that, hiding his momentary pain and not saying anything was worth it. For the trust you had showed him when you had confessed, it was worth it, because he couldn’t afford to break that. Not only it would feel like an utter betrayal even to him, let alone you, but because they’d lose you. Already having been so reluctant to fully lean into being an Avenger in any other but professional – and bleeding – capacity, caring but keeping your distance, you’d cut them off completely. Or left the team; even as in the past few minutes, Steve had not got the impression of you planning on that.
Hopefully.
Right before he entered, Steve took a deep agonizing breath. It reminded him of his asthma, only with the pain dialled up to eleven, the kind of hurting he was no longer used to fighting, not when not running on more adrenalin than blood. He granted himself the luxury of not straitening to his full height – he was about to meet friends, after all. He did not have to hide everything.
He could afford showing just a bit more, blaming it on bruised ribs he hadn’t want to admit to – if anything, that would make his charade more believable.
He allowed for the smile tugging on his lips to spread fully.
You had said yes. You hadn’t exactly said you liked him too, he wasn’t blind to that fact, but it was implied for certain that you did – and he’d take it, because he wasn’t blind to the enormous progress you had gone through compared to what you two had been two weeks ago when the major fight had occurred.
I’d like to talk about that…. Later?
Steve could wait. It wasn’t like he didn’t have other things to sort through, some pleasant, some less so.
Three faces with various levels of amusement and concern welcomed him as he walked in, Bucky, Natasha and Sam sitting at the table, taking a break in between digging into the sick minds of Hydra operatives.
They all watched him expectantly, no doubt having spied the smile on his face – but it was Bucky who spoke, the one teasingly prolonged word only causing Steve’s smile to widen.
“Soooo…?”
“Not a word.”
“Oh I think a lot of words probably happened, punk. Communication, huh? The wonders of simply talking...” Bucky continued, earning an unimpressed glare as Steve moved to the still fresh pot of coffee. He had a mission report to write, then another report as two AI high-ranking operatives had been hurt, he had the videos to review, a therapy session planned… he needed the caffeine.
Especially since he was to deal with his friends first; the snicker that escaped Sam and the smirk settling on Natasha’s face spoke volumes.
Clearly, Steve was friends with children. And as children he should treat them.
“I hate you all,” he uttered, his grin somehow only widening.
“Oooooh, careful! Careful, you guys,” Sam teased, extending his hand in front of Bucky and Natasha as if to protect them from Steve. “He might have caught more than her powers. He’s cranky now.”
A bit of indignation lit up in Steve’s chest at that mocking remark – you weren’t that cranky. In fact, you could be quite doting on others when you weren’t isolating yourself. Which, now that he looked back, might have been for a large part caused by the fact that when you were alone, it was your reprieve from pretending you were not in pain. For another, he was staring to understand that you felt like you didn’t belong – and so your exits could have seemed harsher than intended.
He wasn’t sure which was worse; but either way, making fun of you for it was incredibly unfair.
But before he could rise to our defence, Bucky was pushing Sam’s hand away with a shit-eating grin.
“Nah, he could always be cranky, especially when he knew others had been right the whole time. He’s just finally embraced the fact they are two peas in the pod with our resident lady Spectre. Didn’t you?”
“Har-har, jerk,” Steve commented, unimpressed.
But yes, that was true. The fact he had refused to admit that your similarities were one of the reasons why you occasionally clashed so hard was certainly among the list of his recent revelations, of which most sucked, but he was still glad for having made them.
Something must have shown in his face, or perhaps his voice had earned a bitterer note as his thoughts had, because Sam’s features lost a fair share of humour, sincerity shining through instead, as he made more space for him at the table, letting him sit among them.
“No, Steve, seriously… we’re glad to have you back. Both of you… cranky or smiling.”
Steve’s lips automatically mimicked the latter, especially when Sam very carefully reached out to briefly squeeze his unharmed shoulder.
“Thanks, Sam.”
“And happy to see you two idiots are making progress…” Bucky added, hiding his ever-present grin behind his cup as he sipped his coffee.
“…even if it took an alien artifact, a kidnapping, three gunshot wounds and walking a mile in each other’s’ shoes,” Natasha finished, causing Steve to sigh, the creeping unease they had called crankiness growing as she listed it all.
Natasha certainly had a point, because it had taken a lot indeed – and they didn’t even know half of it… or at least about one gunshot wound. And as much as Steve shared their sentiment, grateful – delighted, in fact – that your relationship with him was beginning not only to settle, but might actually grow into something more than pleasant collegiality or friendship, he couldn’t help feeling that the price for that was a little too high.
“Sure, laugh it up.”
“Oh, we will,” Sam agreed instantly, showing his pearly whites in a wide grin, the very moment Natasha’s quiet hum told Steve that he was never going to live that down and Bucky blurted out “Absolutely, we will, yeah.”
Yeah, I don’t think I will, Steve thought darkly, biting his tongue and resolving to drown the words in the hot drink instead, gaze lowering to the counter as not to reveal his musings, hoping to come across as flustered if not embarrassed a bit.
But he should have known better.
Between two deadly spies and a man who knew a human soul and trauma well-enough to volunteer at a VA, and with all of those being his close friends, there was no hiding.
He could feel the humour melt away from the room completely as concern filled the space instead.
“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked, setting his cup down; and at that, Steve almost laughed, but sighed instead, reluctantly looking up.
A whole lot is wrong.
“Besides the obvious, he means,” Sam added quickly.
What was Steve supposed to say to that? He knew about the one thing he couldn’t reveal, but the rest… that he hated what had happened, that to a large point, he did hate learning all the things about you and revealing his own fears and insecurities, some of them healed and soothed, loving it all the same? That he wasn’t sure that if given the chance to come back and undo all the pain, not only the one you were put through in the past days, but all of it, there was a part of him, significant one, that would not have taken that chance, because it let you right here and may lead to something beautiful? How selfish was that? For the paragon of virtue you considered him, he sure felt like the opposite. And the fact you likely still thought you weren’t enough, hadn’t been enough, didn’t—
He cherished all he learned about you, but there was a part of him that simply wanted to scream and now he couldn’t. And he had no idea at all what he was going to tell not only to his friends, but to his therapist; because not telling anyone as he had promised himself and indirectly to you for now, surely included her as well.
So much for a fearless reckless leader, eh?
“It’s not… it is just that a lot has happened, that’s all,” Steve said at least, carefully choosing his words. It was the farthest thing from a lie. It just wasn’t a complete truth; and it wasn’t enough. His friends could tell; he could feel all of their gazes burning through his skull, even as they remained silent, waiting patiently. There was no doubt telling them would make his breathing easier, shared burden and shared indignation lifting some of the weight from his chest; but he bit his cheek, gripping the weight tighter, because he couldn’t. Not yet. “I just-“
“I swear to god, punk, if you’re gonna say again that it was your fault…”
Steve huffed a humourless chuckle, regretting it instantly as his ribcage protested with a sharp stab of pain. Okay, fuck, how did you even-
“It’s not that. Not only. I just… I wish that sudden understanding of each other’s perspective came in a different circumstance than getting hurt and nearly getting killed, that’s all.”
He forced a tight smile, rewarded with Sam’s compassionate gaze.
“That’s pretty understandable. Just like wishing we somehow did better despite having done our best and doing everything right,” Sam said, one corner of his lips rising as he knew he hit the one nail sticking out directly on the head, self-deprecating leading Steve’s brows to rise briefly – as did his satisfaction for getting them off his back without being insincere and revealing too much.
However, as soon as he glanced at Bucky and Natasha, he realized he hadn’t fooled them. Not all of them.
Natasha in particular was watching him like a hawk, not even trying to be subtle about it.
Seconds ticked by. Bucky cocked his head to side, suspicious, but resigning.
Natsha’s eyes, on the other hand, lit up with recognition.
With recognition that was not supposed to be there.
The flash of hurt burned hotter than his invisible bullet wound; and it ignited the same rage Steve had felt when you had confessed to him; the same rage that consumed him upon hearing your whisper of ‘not where I come from’; the same rage that whited his vision out back in the cell when he heard you scream in agony and he could do nothing.
Natasha knew.
Whether you had told her – and dammit did that made him feel inadequate and downright useless as the Captain that was supposed to protect his team, because you were supposed to trust him with that – or whether she had figured it out, his blood might have as well burst in flames at the mere fact she had kept it to herself.
How could have she just let you suffer, standing by watching him assign you to mission after mission when you were supposed to rest and heal, when-
The wave of nausea swinging his stomach and the new suffocating pressure in his ribcage made him doubt whether he wanted to yell or throw up; but either way, he was going to have a very strict and possibly very loud conversation with Natasha.
Right fucking now.
And she knew that – Steve could tell, because she still held his gaze, unrelenting, not appearing intimidated a fraction by the anger that must have shown on his face. Clearly, for some sick reason, she didn’t regret her actions – or the lack of it – one bit. Of course she didn’t.
But she should.
Steve didn’t look away from her face when he spoke into the suddenly chilling silence.
“Guys… can we have a minute?”
Steve asked, but he didn’t.
It wasn’t even a request.
His voice slipped into the mode of a Captain, one that despite valuing his comrades’ opinions, permitted no protests; he gave an order and they almost automatically followed, because they trusted him.
Now, Steve could feel their startled and baffled eyes flickering between Natasha and him, trying to decipher what on Earth had caused the sudden shift in atmosphere. Steve noticed from the corner of his eye that Bucky looked at Natasha questioningly, but she simply nodded minutely, causing Steve’s jaw to tense further. If Bucky knew as well-
When Steve’s gaze snapped to him, however, he appeared reigned but no less confused than before.
Good. Had Natasha told Bucky but had kept it secret from him, both of them, Steve would throw fucking hands – they would be balled in fists.
“…sure?” Sam hummed uncertainly, grabbing his coffee and walking away alongside Bucky, gaze flickering between the trio with an almost laughably puzzled expression.
Except laughing was the last thing on Steve’s mind, and the pain in his chest had nothing and everything to do with that.
Before he could as much as gather his thoughts and figure out where to even start with giving Natasha a piece of his mind, she propped her hip on the counter leisurely, lowly but very firmly requesting a privacy protocol from FRIDAY with her authorisation code. Only then, she looked at Steve, compassionate but no less apologetic.
“You got hurt when you managed to project, didn’t you?” she stated rather than asked and Steve could scoff. Because of course she knew. She knew everything.
“Yeah. Shot in the chest. Snapped back right away. Imagine my surprise,” he said, by some miracle keeping his voice even and matter-of-fact despite the explosive cocktail of emotions threatened to burst any second.
“I’m sorry.”
“And you should be,” Steve said, all too aware it was not the sorry he wanted to hear and his anger only spiked further. She was sorry he had got hurt. She was sorry he had not been prepared for the pain lingering. Sorry about him learning about it this way. But she was not at all regretting standing idly why you had suffered. And to think she called herself your friend. “What were you thinking? How could you-“
“It was not my secret to tell-”
“The hell it wasn’t!” Steve exploded at last, rising to his feet so fast he nearly knocked over the chair he had been sitting on. And Natasha, goddamn her, watched him steadily, not even flinching. How the hell was she so calm?! So indifferent? Did she not give a single damn- “Natasha, she’s in enormous amount of pain on daily basis! How the hell could you not share that?!”
Natasha only arched her eyebrow, a wordless comeback: so you are admitting to being in ‘an enormous amount of pain’ despite having told the doctor your pain was at 2 after the meds you had got?
Steve just scowled, heart thundering in his ribcage as his blood felt so hot it might actually start evaporating. What the-
“I’m pretty sure it’s not daily, but even if it was, it still wouldn’t be my secret to tell,” she said evenly, crossing her arms on her chest. “How did you feel back in the day when you still had chronic health issues? When they took one look at you, they knewsomething wasn’t quite right, and so they immediately started underestimating you?”
Steve just gritted his teeth, glaring. What the hell did that have got to do with that?
“And I’m sorry, what is it that you’re doing now?” she asked, a tinge of sarcasm to her voice. “I don’t hear you telling the team-“
Steve felt his hands curl into fists, the arm in his sling protesting against the move – but honestly, the flame of spite burned it away, taking over any sign of pain at the moment.
Was she serious?!
“The team isn’t assigning her to missions! They don’t need to know everything, they aren’t the ones unknowingly sending her to the field injured and it pain-“
“Oh, so it’s not the fact I didn’t tell you, it’s that you’re feeling guilty-“
“She could get herself killed, Natasha!” Steve snapped, fist hitting the table, droplets of coffee staining the surface just like the breathiness stained his voice, the nausea hitting him anew, his head spinning. “Did you think of that?! I can’t protect her—I can’t protect this team if I don’t have all the information! The pain doesn’t seem to affect functionality, but what do I know? I’m safe, not being hunted for sport. It might affect her range one of those days and it can get her hurt and killed! A second of hesitation, a second of not being at absolute best and she can catch a knife, a bullet, be kicked down the stairs or off a damn cliff, too weakened to hold on a railing and fall to her damn death, she can be taken and tortured-"
He didn’t register the burn in his chest intensifying until it was too late; images flickering in his mind, the blood staining his shirt and his hands dripping with it and yours, the stupid thigh-highs that would have driven him mad except they were soaked with your blood, your voice feeble, your shaking slippery hands suddenly appearing around a metal bar, cold wind slapping his face, biting into his skin, hand reaching out just a second too late, your screams, Bucky’s scream, like a hive in his skull-
Small warm hands on his shoulders, one barely laid there, the other squeezing hard, a harsh inhale through his burning windpipe.
“Steve. Look at me.”
Steve obliged, blinking the images away even as they persisted stubbornly, Natasha’s face, now softer, filling his vision, his chest rising and falling a little too fast, a stab of pain with every breath, dark spots dancing around Natasha’s concerned features.
Great.
Just great.
Fuck.
“Sorry.”
She just smiled, shaking her head and slowly letting go, stepping back to the counter and leaning on it, propping up on both palms. Steve’s face burned with embarrassment and too much oxygen, but he could not let that distract him from his point. And apparently, neither could Natasha.
“I hear you, Steve. I do. But you know me better than to think that I haven’t consider that,” she reminded him softly, and as much as Steve hated it, he had to admit that it was the truth. She did care about you too. She wouldn’t willingly gamble with your life.
God his chest and his throat was on fire.
“But she’s an adult, Steve. She’s an agent, a damn near perfect one. She knows best what she can and cannot handle. Whatever she’s facing… she’s working through it the best way she can at any given moment and she is at her best. We might not approve of her methods, but as long as it doesn’t affect her performance during missions, not approving and trying to convince her to change her ways is all we can do, especially if we don’t want to lose her – professionally or otherwise.”
Steve gulped, pointedly choosing to ignore the last bit as he considered Natasha’s words, however reluctantly. “We sure as well do not approve-“
“Shocking,” Natasha uttered dryly, one corner of her lips rising in a smirk despite her sincerity, as she kept advocating for her decisions as much as yours, now that Steve thought about it, remaining. “But it’s still her choice. Her body – her choice. Her methods. Careful, Steve, or you might end up sounding patronizing and controlling.”
Now against that, Steve had to protest.
“Hey, I don’t—”
Natasha only arched her eyebrows, lifting one hand to demonstrate a tiny space between her thumb and forefinger.
Steve’s shoulders sagged as he ran his hand down his face, the pain in his cheek at the action, and the insistent pain in his chest reminding him mockingly he was being a bit of a hypocrite and not being controlling and patronizing was exactly what he had been trying to do until he found out that Natasha… knew.
He sighed, glancing at her again, met with her smile, surprisingly inviting, considering he was practically yelling just a moment ago. It was a smile that felt familiar; laced with affection for her dumbass overbearing friend. Because she was his friend – and yours too. Perhaps better than he had thought.
“Did… did she tell you?”
“Does it matter?”
He remained silent, knowing she’d understand without him saying a single word.
It does to me.
And he wanted to know. Needed it. Even if the answer being yes was just going to hurt him more – not because you trusting Natasha with this wasn’t a good thing, but because that would mean you had trusted Natasha and not him. Which would be completely understandable, given your track record with him until recently, but it still stung like son of a bitch, because goddamnit he should have known.
“She didn’t. I’m not that special,” Natasha stated, her smile turning a tad sad and ironic. “Her methods are pretty universal, keeping it secret from the whole team. No exceptions.”
It might have been rather mean of him – and he did not like how isolated you truly were and had been – but that actually made him feel a little better.
Especially since after today, it seemed that might change.
“Well, hopefully those methods will change,” Steve hinted, feeing tension melting off his body, lips once again spreading into a smile, even if a little shy one, warmth blossoming again where the rage had been turning his insides into a wasteland.
Natasha smirked a bit, mischief and amusement glimmering in her irises. “Got the Cap speech, did she?”
“…something like that, yeah.”
At that, she smiled wider; way too knowing to Steve’s liking. And yet, he felt his cheeks ache with how wide he was smiling now, a ghost of your touch caressing his hand.
“I see. Well. A piece of advice?” Natasha offered, not waiting for a confirmation of Steve actually wanting it. “Do try to remember she is a big girl – ties her own shoes, does her taxes and all that, okay? Do not screw it up by acting like you need to sweep in and save her from everything including herself. Please. You both deserve a win.”
At that, Steve sighed, but genuinely tried to etch her words into his brain, because he had been told before – and had to admit it was not an incorrect assessment – he could get rather overbearing, even as his intentions were good.
So yes, he’d try. If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that as fragile as the bond you had begun to build was, you were everything but. He fully agreed with Natasha’s point; he had even told you so. You were meeting his perhaps too high standard a little too well. That was one of the reasons why you captivated him. He just needed to remember that when he’d feel like locking you in the tower and never sending you to another mission again in order to keep you safe.
Not that you wouldn’t be able to escape, be in in physical or spectral form, because you were simple that capable.
“Duly noted,” he grumbled.
Natasha grinned, lightly tapping his shoulder.
“Good boy. Now, this had better be the only cup of coffee you get,” she pointed at the half-drunk cup, her voice allowing protests. “You need to rest for god’s sake. You’ve got shot. Twice, apparently. Jesus, Steve. Talk about hypocrisy.”
“Alright, alright. Quit being bossy. I’m still the Captain, you know.”
“Oh boooo. Trembling in my shoes, Captain,” she retorted cheekily.
Steve mirrored her smirk, knowing she wasn’t actually undermining his authority. Only calling him out… which was rather fair. And he needed that sort of people in his life, he had enough self-awareness to know that.
And he’d listen to her too. Once he’d complete all the tasks he had planned, especially the report; because while there were things he wished to remember, there was still the majority of the mission that he’d rather put it behind him forever.
But since his watch just vibrated with a high-priority message from an operative of the highest-level, he had to add meeting them to the list.
The fact that operative was Coulson – the current director of SHIELD and your former boss – was both rather soothing, and worrisome.
Next chapter
Series masterlist // S.R. masterlist
HA. Not me having to pokerface hard when some of you told me that Daisy would be the number one shipper or that Coulson would weep and I already had a line about it three full chapters ahead (so like five chapters ahead) 🤭
Thank you for reading! Feedback, as always, is appreciated, and keep me inspired when I'm in the pit of despair, thinking I will never finish another chapter (which is shocking right, when I write them 15k long... well). May your days be sweet to you as Steve was to Spectre 💗
#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers#steve rogers x you#steve rogers imagine#captain america x reader#captain america imagine#captain america x you#captain america#agent reader#inhuman reader#avenger reader#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers fanfic#back and forth#anika ann
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nope, no favorites around here - j. drury
pairing: jack drury x female!reader | f, slight a | co-workers to lovers | wc: 716 | warnings: mentions of jack fighting on the ice
welcome post!
y/n’s part of the medical team of the carolina hurricanes. she has a great relationship with the players since it's her job to do check-ups before and after the games.
one fine day, she almost collapses while watching jack getting into a fight with the opponent. the crowd is loud, the guys on the bench are shocked and impressed at the same time. jack dropping the gloves mid game? that's rare. she hates it.
“i don't care if you won, i don't care if it hypes up the crowd, i don't care if it's normal in this sport. are you freaking dumb?”
she's distracted until she notices jack watching her with a smug smile on his face, not even slightly offended by her rant. y/n freezes.
“sorry, shouldn't have gone that far.”
“it's alright, it's a valid worry to have… as someone from the medical team.” jack absolutely knows there's more to it, but he's having fun. she's adorable.
“of course.” she nods. “medical concerns only.”
at home, she starts overthinking about her relationship with jack, wondering if people might be seeing too much. i'm kind and attentive to everyone, right? oh, no, what if they think jack's my favorite? that's awful!
the next day, she goes to work completely self-conscious of her own actions. she greets everyone trying not to be suspicious as she almost sprints to her office. she takes care of the paperwork from the previous day and take notes of what the boss left for her. when practice time arrives, the players come around to do a quick check-up before going to the ice. she has other doctors with her, but somewhere inside she knows jack is going to her cubicle.
he does. jack walks peacefully to his favorite doctor assistant — knowing that there are a few others available —, but what catches him out of guard is how professional she’s acting. well, of course she always does her job correctly, but never this cold, this far — far from him. y/n does every step of the check-up carefully, trusting she’s great at hiding her thoughts from her expressions. they seem to be eating her up inside, that’s why she looks so focused on not messing it up.
“you alright? you look restless,” jack asks, genuinely concerned.
“all great, just got a lot on my plate today,” she replies, eyes on the clipboard with his informations. “good practice, jack. don’t come back here anytime soon.”
y/n turns her back at him to hide her frown, regretting her words. she just needs him to leave so she can breathe properly.
“thought i was your favorite patient.” he tries to lighten the mood. he really doesn’t want it to end that fast, but regrets it a second after, because when their eyes meet, she’s terrified.
“what? nope, no favorites around here. i treat every player equally. have you heard something about it?”
“hey, don’t worry, i was kidding.” jack watches her posture relax. “i promise to do my best only to come here to see you, is that okay?”
y/n freezes. what the hell is going on, right now?
“look, i like talking to you, alright? i’m not a fan of pain and bandages as well, i just don’t mind coming here when i know i’ll be seeing your pretty face.” jack decides to keep talking, afraid you’ll make any assumptions. “and i don’t want you to overthink that i’m giving mixed signs. so, y/n, i’d really like to take you on a date if you allow me.”
“yes. wait.” she covers her mouth then her face in embarrassment. jack softens, his smile grows bigger.
he waits patiently for her. in fact, he’d love to cup her cheeks on his own hands, but that’s hopefully for another day.
“i mean, yeah, it would be nice to go out with you,” she answers, holding a smile as best as she can. “but now i think you should go. wouldn’t wanna mess the queue and get me fired, right?”
he chuckles. there she is, the y/n that got him infatuated.
“of course. see you later, then?”
“don’t even dare getting a scratch on purpose, you hear me?”
“even though you’re adorable when you’re worried?”
“get out of my face right now!”
#jack drury#jack drury imagines#jack drury scenarios#nhl imagines#nhl scenarios#nhl drabbles#nhl blurbs#carolina hurricanes imagines#jack drury fluff#sportswriters ❤
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Soo... Darlin accidentally electrocute themselves / drowned and is in dire need for mouth to mouth from the vamp they just started seeing.. 👀
Just a suggestion. I love your work and know you're really busy so no pressure with that.I hope you have a wonderful day! ❤️
❄️
ANON! Thank you so much for this ask! I went with electrocution... This definitely got a little angsty but how could it not with these two? I hope you enjoy it! <3 <3 <3
Darlin/Sam
tags: near death experience, cpr, angst, fear of loss, idiots in love, first kiss
You Taste Like Life
He came over at sundown to help out with the remodel. Darlin bought a place, a dump, and wanted to fix it up. He’d warned them it was too much work but only half-heartedly because he was hoping they’d ask him to help.
They did.
It was the first time since he became a vampire that he had a friendship with no connection to his life before or his turning. It was… real, in a way nothing had been since. They were friends. Real friends. Friends that flirted sometimes…
He went back out to the truck to grab the rest of the painting supplies. They were finally done with the repairs and onto making at least a couple of the rooms livable.
A light flicked inside the house and he froze. It was like they’d plugged in the big spotlight lamp and the bulb had burst.
But it was the silence that hit him first, incomprehensible and yet instantly registering. It was a shock to his system, jerking his body upright and turning even before his hearing caught the sound of their body crumpling to the floor inside.
Sam hadn’t realized how entuned he’d become to them—to their heartbeat, until it went silent.
He hadn’t known he loved them like that, until the idea of them being gone rocked him.
He dropped the paint cans and was back inside the house in a flash. The living room was moon lit but his eyes took in everything. A scorch mark up the wall from the light socket, the scent of that burn still in the air, and their body on the floor beside it, hand still gripping the melted plug of the lamp.
“No,” the word fell out of him, not even a whisper. He was on his knees next to them, hands hovering. Their eyes were open but they weren’t seeing him—they weren’t there. It was like the life inside them had just been turned off. “Oh god, no.” He touched their sides, gently rearranging them on the floor on their back. “Please.” He didn’t know he was talking. The words streamed across his mind in a flood of panic and heartbreak he had never prepared for.
“Wait. Wait.” He wanted to heal them, to lean back on those powers, but there was nothing to heal when they were just… dead. He tipped their head back, thumbed their jaw down and leaned over them. Lips to lips, he blew air into their lungs and then sat up, hands together and pressing down on their chest.
“Come back. I’ll heal everything else. Just come back,” he pleaded, unaware of any of those words. He blew another breath into their lungs and then did compressions, cringing when he heard a rib crack but didn’t stop. He’d heal it. He’d heal it after they… After they…
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been doing CPR. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop. Someone would have to find him and tear him away. He couldn’t just let them go. He couldn’t…
Darlin came back to life with a gasp, arching off the floor and then jerking to the side to cough hard. Their heart was a rampage in his skull, his hands always on them. He knew he should say something, should tell them they were okay, but his own mind needed those seconds to catch up. It felt like his whole world had ended and now it just wasn’t.
They groaned, hanging onto the arm he had around them. “Fuck… What…” They croaked and winced, pulling the lamp plug from their hand, plastic and skin melted. “Damn it!”
He could heal that. He would. He just…
“Sam?” Their voice was rough and their eyes, one red where it should be white, turning up to him and filling with panic. “Your crying… Are you hurt?” They sat up, pain a flicker across their face at those broken ribs but it didn’t stop them from reaching for him with their good hand, eyes quickly scanning him for injury.
“I… No… I… You…” He closed his eyes. Fuck. He had to get himself together, but his heart was pounding and his emotions rampaging in all directions. “You were dead.”
They were still for a minute, sitting there on the floor facing him. “I was?”
He sighed and opened his eyes, really hating how unbothered they were about the fact, still just worried about him. “Darlin…” When he opened his eyes, they had a little smile he hadn’t been expecting.
They reached up slowly and thumbed the tear off his cheek with their good hand. “Did you save me, cowboy?”
He sighed, leaning his face into their hand. “I broke your ribs.”
Darlin shrugged. “That one always breaks. Not your fault.”
He frowned reaching out with the same slowness that they had—giving all the time to be stopped—before his fingers touched the hem of their shirt, sliding up under it to palm their naked side underneath. Their heart beat faster, their eyes on him. He poured magic into them, gently healing the delicate bones he’d broken inside their chest.
“Thank you,” they said. “And for saving me…”
He winced and shook his head, not sure he could talk about that yet. His hand moved slowly from their side to their arm, sliding down to their wrist and easing more magic through his touch to heal their palm. They shivered and sighed.
He hadn’t wanted to be left behind when he faced a world without their heartbeat. That was a lot to unpack. “Darlin…” Their hand had settled on the side of his neck, their eyes fluttered shut from the magic in their system. A little tug and they were sitting in his lap. Their heart beat faster and their eyes opened, one still violently red. He needed to explain how scared he’d been, how this changed things, but could only stare back at them and hope they got it.
A funny smile played at the corner of Darlin’s mouth. “Did you kiss me?”
He touched their temple, more magic, healing their eye. “I gave you CPR.”
“That sounds like some bullshit excuse for a kiss, cowboy.”
Sam sighed, inches between them, their body practically melting into his now that they had magic rolling through their muscles. “Are you really complaining?”
“I’m just saying… I would have liked to remember being kissed by you,” they countered in a mumble.
It was his heart that skipped beats then.
Their eyes opened again, meeting his gaze and waiting.
Sam had missed a lot of moments in his life—and his death. He had a habit of hesitating and letting things pass him by, of overthinking and talking himself out of things. But if he let it happen now, if he didn’t kiss Darlin the way he wanted to so badly… they’d think he didn’t want to. They’d accept that, of course, and they’d continue to be friends, but he would have hurt something he could never heal, no matter how much magic he burned. And life was so fragile. One second they were there and the next they were gone.
Fuck that.
He touched the small of their back, bringing them that inch closer to his chest and sealing their lips in a kiss. He felt their surprise melt away, arms curling around him and lips parting.
How could someone that had just been dead taste so much like life?
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Reckless | Vox x Alastor’s Child— OATSH
If you like what I’m doing consider tipping me for priority requests & access to characters I don’t usually write for such as Charlie, Valentino, Carmilla, and more.
You attend the overlord meeting. It doesn’t go as planned because of course it wouldn’t.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Vox asked.
He was leaning against the foot of the bed as he watched you get ready for the meeting. You were sitting at the vanity and finishing smocking out your eyeshadow.
“I would really rather it be Velvette,” you said. “I do love you but I don’t trust you to keep your composure.”
“And she’s so level headed?”
“More so than you. At least with Da— Alastor.”
“I. . . Actually can’t disagree with you. But, speaking of heads, do you want me to pack up our exorcist guest?”
“No, but I do plan to talk to Camilla and Zestial afterwards. If anyone will know what happened, it would be one of them.”
“Okay. . . Are you sure—“
“Vox!”
“Alright,” Vox said, raising his hands up as he walked over to you, “I surrender.” He placed those hands on your shoulders and squeezed. “You know all you have to do is call me and I’ll be right there.”
You squeezed his hand. “I know.”
You gave him a kiss as you stood up. Your fingers on the bottom of his screen forced him to look at you when he opened his eyes. A little wave of electricity sparked between his antennae as his eyes opened.
“I’ll call if I need you.”
You saw a flicker of worry cross him before his face glitched for a second and it was gone.
“If that’s what you want.”
He kissed your hand. His fingers twisted your ring to make sure it was secure. He let you walk out.
“Hey,” Zeezi said with a bit of a chuckle in her voice as she shook the floor with her steps. She leaned down to as close to your height as she could and asked in a softer tone, “You okay, babes? I saw the broadcasts.”
“I’m here,” you said simply and she nodded.
Together the two of you walked into the meeting room.
You froze in place, breath quickening when you saw Alastor sitting next to Rosie. The two chatting, as though nothing had changed. As if time hadn’t passed.
“Psst,” Zeezi said.
You looked over and she beckoned you over to her. You sighed and shook your head, a small smile coming to your lips. You walked to her.
She patted her thigh. “Come sit with Missi Zeezi,” she said as she wiggled in her chair before settling. “Come on, Miss Thang.”
You took her outstretched hand and let her pull you into her lap. You nearly toppled backwards onto yourself from the slope that came with how she was forced to bend her knees but you managed to catch yourself. She laughed, a real booming one that vibrates her entire body. It was comforting.
You tail curled around her and wrapped around her own, a silent motion of thanks.
The tink of metal ballet shoes against the floor got everyone quiet. Still, you moved in Zeezi’s lap so you weren’t straddling her thigh and instead had your feet pointed towards the back of the room with your legs crossed. You settled just as Camilla came into the room.
“Welcome, Hell sovereign overlords,” Camilla began, “I’ve invited you all here because you represent the controlling powers of our city. Together you own millions of souls. Souls at risk with the new extermination schedule. We need to discuss what can be done to minimize the impact to our interest.”
A light hissing and chattering noise accompanied the man clad in black and green as he moved into his seat.
“Zestial, so good to see you, my friend.”
“Enchanted as always, Camilla.”
Zestial summoned himself a cup and saucer and raised it to his lips. It was that motion that caused her to catch a glimpse of—
“Alastor?”
He smiled. You felt a snarl curl on your lips. Your hands in your lap balled into fists. You didn’t register the sting pain that should have been there when your claws dug into your skin.
“Yes, I know, I’ve been absent some time. I’m sure you’ve all been wondering,” he said.
Yes, yes, you had but if your husband wasn’t attending so he couldn’t make a scene then neither could you. You remained silent.
Zeezi’s claw gently worked its way between your hands. The feathers on her wrists softly brushed against your skin. You looked down to see blood beginning to spill over your palms.
She looked down at you with her brows furrowed, a silent question. You shook your head and waved her off. You licked your palm and her nose scrunched up at the sight.
“Not really, but welcome back in any case,” Camilla said.
It wasn’t the snap that caught you attention but barely audible sound of a radio crackling. You knew that crackle meant he was displeased. You licked your lips of the blood and smiled.
“This year’s extermination was brutal,” Camilla said, her accent thickening on her last word, “far more even than years passed. We have assessed that about sixteen percent of the population was lost. With the angelic legions now returning twice as quickly, I think it prudent we—“
She was interrupted by the door slamming open to reveal Velvette. She was wearing a crop top, heigh waisted jeans, and a long jacket, rather reminiscent of the outfits she’d supplied your closet with not long ago.
“Yes, I’ve got it handled, Vox. Are you doubting me? Really? Me?” she said into the phone. “That’s what I thought.”
She laughed as she leaned against her chair. “Yes, I know, they’re all a joke.” She quickly corrected herself when she saw your disapproving look, “‘Cause they’re all just so damn funny. Especially, your sweet darling vixen.”
She rolled her eyes, “I just got here, Vee. What do you want me to do? Already have a goddamn list of every notable expression? Uh-huh, yeah. You’ve got you little ring. You’ll know if somethings wrong. Of course, we will. Thank you, Vee.” She puckered her lips together several times, “Kisses, darling!”
She fell back into her chair.
“Nice of you to join us, Velvette,” Camilla said. “Will Vox be joining us?”
“No! He’s got better shit to do than be in the company of outdated technology that thinks it’s relevant,” Velvette said. “I’m here to represent.”
She held up her phone and made a pointed look at Alastor who’s gums briefly showed before his lips fell into the normal smile he often had. He sat back in his chair. A quick moment where your eyes met, and then it was gone.
Zeezi’s tail squeezed yours softly.
“So, as I was saying, we need to discuss—“ Velvette’s hand shot up. You looked at her, eyes flaring open in warning but she ignored it. “Yes?”
“On the subject of discussion.”
Velvette pulled out an exorcist head and threw it onto the table. The slightly congealed blood was still liquid enough to drip onto the table.
“Oooh, shit!” Zeezi said as she sat up, carefully moving you with her.
Alastor also leaned forward. “Oh, tasty.”
‘What are you doing?’ you mouthed to Velvette.
‘Showing daddy who’s boss’ she mouthed back.
“Where did you get this?” Camilla asked.
“Vox found it during extermination day,” Velvette said simply. “If these holy rollers can be killed, the game has changed.” She jumped up onto the table. “We can take the fight to them. Vox and I have come up with a full assault plan.”
Loud sipping interrupted Velvette for which you were grateful. Zestial slurred from his teacup with intent, making all eyes go to him.
“If it be true thee and thy colleague desire to war with such meager proof, thou art far more foolish than I be thought,” Zestial said.
Velvette scoffed, “‘Meager proof’? It’s a dead fucking exorcist. I’d say that’s pretty fucking definitive. You going blind, old man?
You felt your entire body tense.
“Velvette,” you said between gritted teeth.
“We know not how this perished,” Zestial said. “Mayhaps it was not by a demon’s hand at all. If we rush to war without knowing, mighten they purge all of Hell for daring an uprising.”
Even with the words of agreement, you didn’t untense.
“It could happen.”
You hands began to curl again but you relaxed them.
“Oh, I get it,” Velvette said. You slipped out of Zeezi’s grip. “So grandpa is too pussy to fight so I guess there’s no point, right?”
“What’s the matter, fossil?”
“Velvette!”
“Too senile to make a real power grab?”
“You better show some respect!” Camilla yelled as she got in Velvette’s face. “Check your behavior! No one speaks to Zestial that way!”
You motioned a hand towards Camilla. She backed down, placing the problem in your hands.
“Did you expect them to sit back and take your insolent, brazen display?” you asked.
Velvette took a step away with a mixture of betrayal and confusion written across her doll-like features.
“I know you feel special and I hate to break the news but we can’t afford to lose. There’s too many people here that’d rather live in fear. This has to be a calculated attack, not just one random act,” you said.
You heard Alastor’s chuckle. You whipped around to him. “You showed no respect! Didn’t check your behavior! Did you think it’d be okay? That no one would notice your little va-cay?!
“Left all your souls unwatched and unsupervised. Leaving them vulnerable to heaven’s all seeing eyes. Not all of them are here. You didn’t shed a tear. Could have prevented it. Not like you have a shit. Your people were dying! They were out crying! Had you not been reckless, they wouldn’t be breakfast.
“Let me say this right here, we’re all beyond our years. Too old for this drama. Can’t just do what we wanna. Don’t forget that Heaven’s eyes can probably see our afterlives. We’ve got to be patient. Can’t act fucking brazen. Understand this arrangement. We’ll all be effected so show some respect and don’t be reckless.”
Camilla placed her hand on your shoulder. “Thank you,” she said softly. “As always, even in moments of frustration you remain well spoken.
“Velvette, your information will be taken into consideration. However, as said, this cannot be a random act. We must have all the information, including how this angel died. Does anyone here have information they’d like to share?”
Camilla looked around the room. Her daughters’ eyes didn’t meet hers and though she looked at people, you noticed hers didn’t either.
“Then we have nothing more to discuss,” Camilla said. “Due to high emotions, I believe it best we adjourn this meeting and come back to discuss in some weeks time. Perhaps there will be more information to share then. Until then, this meeting is over.”
“Whatever,” Velvette said as she gave the finger and stormed out.
Camilla walked out of the room quickly. Your head turned that way as your shoulders slumped.
“Zestial,” you said with an unspoken request.
He didn’t respond verbally but he bowed his head and followed Camilla. Everyone else slowly began to filter the room.
“Do you want me to stay, girlie?” Zeezi asked when it was just you, her, and Alastor left.
You shook your head.
“Alright then,” she said as she got up. “You know where to find me if you need some drinks after.”
The room was silent for several long moments. Neither one of you knew what to do, what to say.
Your ears flickered back as you took a steadying breath. “I know we’re twisted but I didn’t think your screws went so loose. Maybe you missed it, but I’ve always cared about you. Thought that you did too. Mad that you acted so reckless. Think maybe I’d expect this.”
You couldn’t look at him as you continued, “Here’s my sorry to me. Guess you never gave a shit. Maybe I should’ve seen it.”
Your face began to prickle. Your eyes and nose burned. “Fuck, why am I crying? Not like you were really dying.”
“Let me explain,” Alastor said as he stood from his seat. “I never meant to cause you this pain. I made a promise I try to keep. It pains me to see you weep.”
You flinched away from his attempt to touch, his hands having gone to try and stroke your hair. A familiar act. “Do you really think I’d be so quick to forgive? Especially after you’ve been allusive?!”
You turned to look at him. “So go on, tell me something true. I’m done being lied to. Spit it all out, knock that smile off your mouth. Let’s see what it’s been about; Why you’ve been so reckless. Let’s get some directness or will you be respectless?”
Alastor didn’t speak. His smile went small. His ears pinned themselves against his head in what seemed like a mockery of your own.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you said, voice going weak. “I’m done with this ‘talk.’”
Vox had been staring at your vitals the entire time. He took note of every time your heart rate spiked. The camera he’d placed on Velvette could only do so much when she wasn’t by your side, looking at what you were like he would if he’d been there with you.
“Velvette,” he growled under his breath when she brought out the angel head.
Maybe he should have gone. Surely a battle between him and Alastor would be more effective than this. At least you’d get to see the man who brought you pain get bloodied instead of getting a new reason to worsen your migraine.
When Velvette slammed the door as she entered, he didn’t even flinch. He had turned off her camera as soon as you were no longer in sight and the microphone no longer picked up what you were saying.
“Ungrateful brat!”
Oh, that got his attention.
He whipped around, eye swirling, and his voice coming out distorted, “What did you just say?”
“Your little toy decided to fuck up my entire plan and everyone, even you, got a front row fucking seat!” Velvette screeched as she threw down the camera that Vox had planted on her. She squished it with her shoe.
Vox laughed but he wasn’t amused. “Let me make something very clear, Velvette, you are not to talk about my wife in that manner. My wife, who— mind you— has been an overlord longer than you’ve been alive! Did you even think that maybe there was a reason I told you to leave the fucking head in her goddamn weapons’ room?!”
“Well, maybe I would’ve done it if you told me why!”
“You didn’t need to know and it’s for exactly this reason!” Vox took a deep breath. “You were supposed to sit still and listen. That’s all you had to do, Velvette—“
“And you couldn’t do that instead?” Velvette challenged.
“I’ve known Alastor for nearly seventy years,” Vox said. “We have a history and most of it involves fighting. You’ve known him for not even ten and you’ve interacted with him a grand total of fourteen times excluding today. One would think that you’d be able to keep your composure which is the entire point of you going to the meeting in the first place. How many times have I made you go to a meeting?”
Velvette didn’t answer. Instead she looked away from him.
“Don’t be a child,” he said, his voice glitching once again and his eyes spiraling. “How many times have I made you go to an overlord meeting? Answer me!”
“None!”
“And the one time I do, you fuck it up! I know you feel like you’re invincible, but know your place,” Vox gritted from his teeth. “You only got here because of us. Act like it!”
Velvette glared at Vox. Then she stormed away.
Vox panted for a moment. His fists clenched. He turned to look at your vitals. He calmed when he saw they were normal.
He watched them for the rest of the night. Watched as they would slightly spike occasionally before going into a slightly faster but steady rhythm.
Vox didn’t even flinch when he opened his eyes as you appeared on his lap. Your breath reeked of alcohol.
“I love you,” you said as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
He sighed and finally relaxed. “I love you too.”
He rested his head against your curls. One hand went to rest above your heart. The other carefully embraced your tail as it curled up his arm. His claws held the fur in a gentle grip.
You nuzzled your head in the crook of his neck. Your ears tickled his screen as they flickered.
“I wanna go to bed,” you said.
“We can do that.”
He got up. His arms were beneath you to support your weight. He carried you to the bedroom. Before he closed the door he whistled.
You groaned. He chuckled. “Sorry, doll.”
Vark came running into the bedroom. Vox closed the door with his foot.
He sat you on the bed and pulled off your shirt. He unclipped your bra. He slipped off your shoes and your pants followed. He then undressed himself as you pulled at the blankets.
He saddled up beside you. You quickly curled onto his chest. He patted the bed and Vark jumped up. The shark curled up against your back.
“I love you,” you said as you began to doze.
“I love you too,” he said.
As soon as the words came from your mouth he knew he wasn’t supposed to hear them and it only slipped due to the alcohol, “Don’t leave me.”
His chest tightened. His heart shattered at those three little words.
He placed one hand atop yours and squeezed it. His other pulled you even closer to him.
“Never, doll,” he promised. “I’ll never leave you.”
If you like what I’m doing consider commissioning me for canon/canon stories AND personalized canon/reader stories.
#vox x reader#hazbin vox x reader#one author two show hosts#alastor x reader#hazbin alastor x reader
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Teamwork
word count; 1346 – f!reader
Kageyama was always persistent when he set his mind to something, and most of that dedication had always gone to volleyball. However, something else had been taking over his perfect concentration ever since the day he first talked to you. He’s in his second year at Karasuno, and it’s his first time experiencing something that feels like a crush.
You’re in Karasuno’s volleyball club, a starting player on the girls’ team. More specifically, you play in the position of setter. This year’s new captains for each team agreed that doing a joined practice would be a fun way to strengthen both teams, and this fuelled a competitive spark between you and Kageyama. You both quickly realised that Kageyama was much better than you, but that just gave you even more opportunity to learn from him. Instead of competition. it turned into friendship.
After that you kept stopping by each other when the other had practice, giving each other both teasing criticism and helpful tips, also making it very obvious that you were there to watch each other. There is no way the other members of your teams wouldn’t notice how you two were drawn to each other, but no one really witnessed any decent flirting.
Kageyama came to practice looking particularly bothered one day, making Ennoshita laugh at the pout on the youngest second-year’s face as he encouraged him to get to practising. No one dared poke the bear. No one except Hinata.
“Poutyyama!” he screeched, dancing around the taller player with a smile. “You were annoyed even before you saw me today, what’s up?” he asked, obviously aiming more at teasing than helping. However, Kageyama finally fell into a state of desperation. He kept glancing angrily between Hinata and the volleyball in his hands. He mumbled something under his breath that no one could pick up on, everyone in the gym slowing to a stop to watch as the boy didn’t immediately kick Hinata’s butt. This made Kageyama’s blush spread from his ears over his temples. “What was that?”
“I don’t know how to flirt,” he mumbled, this time a bit more audible. A snort came from behind him, where Yamaguchi and Tsukishima covered their mouths so Ennoshita wouldn’t yell at them.
“Flirt?” Hinata repeated loudly, looking absolutely horrified at the concept. “Who are you trying to flirt with?” This made Kageyama finally react, pouncing on his friend in aggression. Tanaka came walking over to separate them, Nishinoya trailing close behind with his chin held high.
“Obviously, it’s the pretty setter from the girls’ team,” Tanaka announced.
Nishinoya nodded. “It’s so obvious, now listen to the love doctors,” he said, putting his hands together like he was praying and catching Kageyama’s attention. “How have you advanced so far?”
“Well…” Kageyama takes a moment to think, lowering his shoulders. “I told her that her spike serves were great, showed her how to make the set curve and stop, or tried to but she didn’t really get it, and I bought her an extra box of milk when I went to the vending machine,” he listed. The rest of the boys blinked silently at him for a moment. Not exactly romantic, but it could be worse.
Tanaka put an arm over his shoulders. “Have you asked her to go out with you? Marry you?” he suggested as if it was the greatest tip ever. Kinoshita scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“You can’t just do that right away. We could ask someone on the girls’ team if she likes him back first?” he suggested, a bit more shy about romantic advances than his friends.
“That’s not a bad idea,” Ennoshita said, but he looked hesitant. “But there is something sweet about telling her you like her. It seems to me like she likes you too.”
Kageyama looked at his captain with hopeful eyes, clinging on to every word. “It does?”
“Hopeless…” came from Tsukishima along with a sigh.
“Well, what else did you expect,” Hinata added and crossed his arms, narrowly dodging Kageyama’s punch.
Yamaguchi chuckled but engaged nonetheless. “You can ask her to hang out outside of school and club,” he suggested, which was actually the best option presented to him so far. A couple of murmurs went around the room in agreement, and then Ennoshita clapped his hands.
“Let’s get back to practice! If she likes Kageyama, she’ll like whatever he decides to do.”
Kageyama was staring at a message from you with a weird smile and a calculating mind after getting home for the night. You wrote him saying you look forward to the joined practice you had scheduled after school tomorrow. What is he supposed to do? How does he return your energy, as he read in that one article he got through before getting bored of reading?
Ennoshita thinks you like him back. Maybe he should just combine all the tips he got into one. That has to make it a failsafe. As long as he leaves out the marriage part…
He slowly types it out, making sure there are no spelling errors before sending it and finally putting his phone to the side so he can try to sleep.
I like you, will you go out with me? We could do something outside of school and club activities.
Oh boy, did his teammates have a field day with his chosen tactic when he told them about it at morning practice. You hadn’t answered yet, but Kageyama wasn’t too worried about it as it was still early.
The third years looked especially pale, while the second years were mostly laughing.
“You did all of it, how creative!” Narita said in the most positive manner he could manage, making up for the others who were sitting quietly in their guilt over saying anything yesterday and then leaving him to his own defences. “Let us know when she answers.”
Kageyama nodded with a decisive smile, still pretty happy with his solution. Practice commenced and the team mostly forgot about the situation for a few hours until they returned to the locker rooms all sweaty. Kageyama was pulling on his clean shirt when there was a vibration on the bench below him. His phone.
Meanwhile, you had arrived at school half an hour before that, gathering as many of your friends as you could for help. You were practically buzzing with excitement, as Kageyama was the last person you expected to be this forward about such a topic. The girls squealed, and even a teacher hushing you in passing couldn’t calm down your energy levels. You all spent a while deciding on what to answer and then you chose to add the smiley at the end yourself, butterflies in your stomach as you sent the message.
That sounds great, actually :D
Kageyama didn’t even notice most of his team looking over his shoulder with loose jaws as they read your response, as he was too busy freaking out over it himself. “Yamaguchi!” he yelled, yelling again in surprise when he turned around to see the guy standing there already, along with a few of the others who were more shameless in their snooping. “Help.”
It took some work, but you two were finally enjoying your first date, going for ice cream in the sun and getting to know each other more.
Hinata and Tanana were ready to pretend they had no idea this was where they went for the date in case anyone caught them spying, but were amused to bump into three of the girls from your team as well, who were also trying to find the best spot for watching you without being spotted. Their precious setters, somehow mastering communication when it was with each other. When you got home, you would blame your red cheeks on a sunburn, for sure.
But it was actually from Kageyama awkwardly kissing your cheek before leaving.
You see, Kageyama had texted Sugawara last night for tips, and he told him that if he felt like the date had gone well, he could kiss your cheek before he left.
masterlist
/I imagine Yachi wasn't there when they gave him tips and when Hinata told her everything she got so stressed out on Kageyama's behalf, she's so precious
#haikyuu#haikyu#kageyama tobio x reader#kageyama tobio#kageyama x reader#haikyu x reader#karasuno#haikyu x y/n#haikyu x you#haikyu fluff
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Note: Wow, the roommate!Simon story blew up. Anyway, here's part 2.
Following his conversation with Johnny, Simon begins to think. He begins to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he’s developing feelings for you. Why else would he be so protective and mad when the sergeant talks this way about you? The thought scares him at first.
For one, being near him is a death sentence, he saw that with his family. He can’t even imagine surviving losing someone he loved again. Then there is another thing, the fact he isn’t sure you would return his feelings. If you didn’t, as he suspects, living with you would be torture, and he’s honestly too lazy to look for a new place to stay.
The next time he arrives home in the middle of the day, the apartment is empty since you’re at your workplace most probably. Not seeing your face brighten at the sight of him makes his heart ache, but he knows you’ll be home in two or three hours, so he can most certainly survive that by lying down to catch up on sleep. He leaves a post-it for you on the small table next to the front door where you always put your keys, warning you that he’s back home.
He’s woken by the smell of fresh coffee and something sweet. When he checks the clock on his bedside, he notices it’s past seven, which means he slept a good four hours without interruptions. The new record of the past weeks as the most he slept peacefully was two hours tops. He climbs out of bed and goes to the living room, surprised to see you in the kitchen, humming a song to yourself as you admire the neatly cut brownies on the kitchen island.
“You’re awake!” you exclaim happily, quickly pressing a button on the coffee machine to make him some coffee too, then pick up an empty plate and put a slice of brownie on it. “Welcome home. Here, try this. I thought you might use some homemade things after being away for so long.”
That damn smile of yours. It’s wide, happy, and it easily warms his heart and makes him smile too. Your good mood is infectious and he finds himself stuffing the cookie into his mouth as he stands next to you, nudging your side with his hip playfully. “It’s perfect, thank you,” he says while chewing, earning a roll of your eyes. You hate it when someone talks with their mouth full, so he quickly swallows the remains and goes, “Sorry.”
You shake your head with a laugh then turn away to get his coffee. Simon can’t help but wonder if this is how things would always be if you were his wife, if you would be this kind and caring all the time. He certainly could get used to this. He wouldn’t believe he deserves all the love, but he would definitely enjoy your attention.
“What got you thinking so hard?”
Simon lets out a questioning hum before realizing he zoned out for a while. “You,” he replies honestly.
“Me?”
“Mm-hmm.” Before you could ask more questions, he moves in front of you, trapping you between the kitchen island and his body as he leans down to you. “I had an interesting conversation with someone and it got me thinking while I was gone,” he says with his lips moving so close he almost kisses you. “Do you have any idea how much I miss you when I’m deployed? How many times do I wonder what you’re doing while I’m away?”
It’s easy to tell, especially from this close, that your heart is racing and your breath is caught in your throat as you watch him. Your eyes are moving back and forth between his lips and his eyes, unable to decide what to focus on. You’re both under a spell that he doesn’t want to break, in fact he wants this moment to last forever, this anticipation before he finally makes up his mind to kiss you. He wants to do it, but he can’t help but think about whether or not you would be against it.
Maybe he thinks too much, maybe his brain is too focused on the negative thoughts, and before he knows it, you move your head to capture his lips with yours in a slow and sensual kiss. Simon is aware that he has issues. He understands that his brain is only on high alert because deep down he doesn’t believe he deserves your attention. After all, he’s not a good man. Well, not always. He does his job like a good little soldier, but the lines are blurry between good and bad.
He knows that you know this too. Shortly after he moved in and found out what he did for a living, you had a lot of questions, many that he simply wasn’t allowed to answer. But you probably sensed that he was keeping things to himself, certain aspects of this position that civilians would never understand. He didn’t want to scare you away, he didn’t want you to throw him out, so he kept his mouth shut. You knew that and never pried for more information.
When your nails dig into the skin on his back in a desperate attempt to pull him closer, Simon finally returns to the moment, returning your delicious kiss while his hands grab your ass and help you on the counter behind you. His lips trail from your lips to the shell of your ear, whispering praises until he feels your hands moving to his belt.
As much as he wants that, he knows he has to stop you. So he reaches down to grab your hands, pulling them away and lacing his fingers with yours as he kisses the tip of your nose. “Not yet, love. Let’s go on a proper date first, yeah?” he asks you with a small smile.
You whine, then you beg for more, asking him why you have to go on a date when you've been living together for over a year now. He tells you that the reason is simple; he spent a bigger part of it away from home so you have to get to know each other.
“I know you, Simon,” you push on, your fingers tracing the tattoos on his forearm as you speak. When you see the determination in his eyes, you finally let out a sigh of defeat and say, “Okay, fine. Let's go on a date first. But don't even think about something fancy. Let's keep it simple.”
With a short laugh, he leans down to give you a quick kiss. “Understood.”
Later in the evening, way past eleven, the two of you finally say goodnight and he returns to his room. There's a message waiting on his phone, one that came from Johnny. “I’ll send her a DM if you won't introduce me,” it says.
“Better not. She's taken,” he replies.
#ghost#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#call of duty#simon riley x reader#mw2#modern warfare#mw3#john soap mactavish#john mactavish
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Do you love me?
Pairings - Rafe x reader
Summary - you catch Rafe watching porn. Based on this ask
Warnings - masturbation, porn, reader being sad, language, unprotected sex. (18+)
A/n- always have the conversation with your partner about porn, some people don’t care but others do so please don’t leave any rude comments.
When you had gone looking for your boyfriend around 11pm you had expected to find him asleep on the couch, credits to the movie the two of you had tried watching running in the background. White noise helped him sleep. What you hadn’t expected to find was your boyfriend watching porn, on the big screen. His cock between his hand as he tugged himself, soft moans and grunts spewing from his lips as he watched the scene in front of him.
A perfect curved blonde bounced on a thick cock, her pussy was immaculate. No hair or razor burn to be seen, just complete bareness. She was everything you weren’t, even the noises she made was better.
You had been so naive to think he didn’t watch porn, to believe you were enough to satisfy his needs. Of course you weren’t, you didn’t look like the girl on the screen. Your curves weren’t perfect, your hair didn’t look like that and you definitely didn’t sound or act the way she did which apparently had Rafe beating his cock harder.
Stepping away from the door you creeped back to the bedroom, the tears fell before you even made it under the blanket. Your body shaking against the mattress in sadness, this shouldn’t have such an affect on you. Everyone watches porn, you’ve watched porn but that was before Rafe. Before you had his perfect body at your disposal.
Pressing the palms of your hands into your face to ease the tears, taking deep breaths to stop the noises. The sound of the living room door closing has you burrowing under the blanket, hiding your face so he can’t see you.
It feels like hours go by before he steps into the room, moving around quietly as he strips his clothes off. He always slept naked, a sight you’d never get over. You feel his side of the bed dip and the ruffle of the blanket, you don’t expect his arm to pull you against his chest. “You're awake” he whispers, the thump of your heart giving you away. His hand pressed firmly just above your breast, you stay quiet though. Hoping he just lets you go to sleep but of course he doesn’t, he’s spinning your body like a rag doll. “Why’s your heart beating so fast?”.
The room is pitch black, he’s unable to see your bloodshot eyes. His fingers dance up and down your spine waiting for your answer. “Not sure” your voice is raspy, a tell tale sign something’s wrong. His hand is hitting the bedside lamp within seconds, towering over your small frame. Fingers cupping your cheek softly, his eyes search your face and a deep frown settle between his eyebrows. “Why have you been crying?”.
You push at his chest, turning until your back is to him. Embarrassment settles in your chest, a sudden wave of nausea rushes through you. “Babe, don’t do that. Tell me why you’ve been crying?”
With all the confidence you can muster you turn slightly, looking him directly in the eyes. “Do you still love me?”
The deep chuckle vibrates his chest and he pulls himself to sit, your cheeks tinted red in anger and embarrassment you press your face into the pillow. “Oh hey hey babe no. Of course I love you. Why would you ask me that?”
His grabby hands prod you in the side, pulling at your waist so he can see your face. You slap his hands away when they reach for your face again, moving yourself until you say against the headboard. Knees pressed firmly to your chest, arms wrapped tight around you. “Are you attracted to me?” Tears start falling before you can catch them, bottom lip wobbling as you stare at him. The sobs come hard and fast, he’s holding your face firmly.
This time he stares at you, it's intense and you feel shy under his gaze. “Of course I am… your fucking perfect”
Your eyes rolled hard, no you weren’t. The tears keep coming but the attitude fights it way through. “Don’t roll your eyes” he grasps your wrists, yanking you until you straddle his lap. “No I'm not.. I don’t look like those girls”
Confusion evident on his face as he waits for you to explain, so unsure on what has made you feel this way. “Those girls” you whispered, too shy to explain you had caught him masterbsting to porn earlier. “Your going to need to explain baby”
“The girls in porn” you blurt, the corner of his lips turning up. A lightbulb going off above his head, he realises you must have seen him earlier. “I went to find you… I thought you’d fallen asleep, I didn’t mean to see you- you’know”.
Gripping your chin with his forefinger and thumb he angles your face up at him, placing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You think I don’t love you because of the girls in porn?”
You nod your head in embarrassment, you know you shouldn’t be feeling these things. “I was right here.. why didn’t you ask me to help?”
“Oh baby… your fucking perfect, those girls aren’t what I want. You are what I want… I watch porn when I don’t want to annoy you”
“Your not annoying me”
“Your pussy is fantastic, the best fucking pussy I’ve ever had. I can’t get enough of it, I can’t get enough of fucking you… I love fucking you”
“Sweet girl, my sex drive is insane. I’m constantly horny, I can’t expect you to be willing and waiting for me every second of the day”
“Yes you can Rafe… if I’m around then use me, I understand if I’m not around. Of course porn would be your go to but I’m right here, I want you just as much as you want me and if it’s not sex you want, I’ll get on my knees for you”
He grins Cheshire Cat like, pupils blown to the max. His lips attack yours in one swift swoop, tongue slipping between your lips. It’s messy and full of heat, his grabby hands caress the skin of your exposed thighs.
Grinding you down onto his crotch, you can feel him hardening under you. You had forgotten he was naked for a brief moment, reaching down to grasp his cock. With just a few small tugs he was completely hard, throbbing in your palm. “Fuck baby… I hope you mean what your saying, I’m going to fuck this pussy until it’s a weeping mess every day… multiple times of the day” he states, kissing down the length of your neck.
He’s pulling your shorts to the side, pressing the head of his cock to your opening. Without warning you push down on him, his cock stretching you wide. “Shit… baby girl, I just about came. You feel so fucking good” he growls, he scoops your breasts out of the loose tank top. Sucking your nipples into his mouth harshly, your hips roll and bounce above him. “Not so fast, I want to show you how much I love fucking you” he breaths, wrapping his arm around your back he places you onto the bed.
Your legs wrap around his waist as he thrusts into you, it's deep and slow. Your walls spasm around him each time he nudges your clit, his lips suck deep purple bruises into your neck. “Oh yes Rafe… I can’t- I need you to go faster” you breath, your orgasm was fluttering.
Pressing the heels of your feet into his lower back, he shook his head moving his lips across your jaw onto your lips. His pace quickened only by a fraction, not enough to bring you over the edge. “Going slow baby.. want you to understand how much I love you and how much I love this body, you are the only person I want”
You nod your head, understanding his words. You had over reacted to what you had seen, completely understanding why he used porn at certain times. “Yes baby.. I understand. Please”
He loved hearing you beg, he knew you were close by the way your cunt sucked him deeper. He reached between you, pressing his fingers to your aching clit. “Yes yes yes”
This was enough to have you crying out under him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him in close. Fingernails racking up the length of his back as your orgasm washed over you, he was quick to follow, still sensitive from his previous abuse on his cock.
“I love you baby… not porn okay”
“I know, but I was serious… use me okay. I’m here whenever you want me”
“Your going to regret that”
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#rafe cameron smut#drew starkey smut#outerbanks smut#rafe cameron#outerbanks fic#rafe cameron fic#drew starkey#rafe fluff#rafe x you#rafe recs#rafe x oc#rafe fanfiction#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#rafe fic#rafe smut#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron x reader#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x oc#rafe cameron x smut
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SWEET NOTHING
pairing: luke castellan x reader
summary: y/n comforts luke after he sees percy claimed by poseidon.
word count: 600+
a/n: y'all i know. how many more morally grey characters can i write fics for? i couldn't help it, he's so bf in the first two episodes so this takes place in a world where he’s done nothing wrong <3
You watched as your boyfriend’s face changed after seeing the newest camp member, Percy Jackson, claimed by his father, Poseidon.
Luke wasn’t one of the unclaimed kids, but he might as well have been. His relationship with his father Hermes was a strained one, but he pretended like it didn’t bother him.
But now, it was hard not to notice the sadness and frustration that had clouded Luke’s face as he watched the trident appear above Percy’s head. Before you could go over to comfort him, he had already run away from the scene.
You decided to give him some space, figuring that he had gone back to his cabin. As the other camp members slowly dispersed, you looked around for Annabeth.
Upon laying your eyes on the dark-haired girl in the crowd of people, you beckoned her over.
“Hey! Did you see that?” she asked you, excitedly.
“Yeah, that was crazy!” you admitted. “How’d you know he was Poseidon’s?”
“I’ve been watching him.”
“Of course,” you smiled. Luke had told you about Annabeth's desire to find “The Chosen One.”
“Wait- where’s Luke?” she asked, as if on cue.
“I was gonna talk to you about that- I think he ran back to his cabin.”
“What- why?”
“I think he had some feelings about Percy being claimed, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh,” Annabeth replied, putting the pieces together.
“Yeah, I’m giving him some space right now, but do you have any advice on how to approach this? I don’t want to upset him any more.”
“Look, Y/N, you’re his girlfriend. Just do your best to comfort him and I’m sure he’ll start to feel better.”
“I know, but you’re his sister! You know him best, what if I say the wrong thing?”
“You can’t say the wrong thing. He loves you, Y/N. He just needs to see that someone is there for him.”
“Okay, thank you, Annabeth,” you gave her a hug before heading in the direction of the Hermes cabin.
You were relieved to find that the other campers had not gotten back yet. You gently pushed open the door and found yourself facing your boyfriend’s back sitting on his bed.
“Luke?” you called out.
He turned to face you, hastily swiping at the tears that had fallen onto his cheeks.
“Oh, sweet boy, come here,” you ran over to take him in your arms. He let his tears fall again, and your heart broke seeing him like this. You knew that he acted brave all the time, but deep down, he was hurting.
“Hey, it’s okay. Just let it out,” you attempted to calm him down.
“Why doesn’t he care about me?” he cried.
“Baby, it’s okay. He doesn’t matter, alright? It has nothing to do with you.”
“Yes, it does. Percy killed a minotaur and broke Clarisse’s spear and his dad just came swooping in.”
“Look at me,” you pulled away to lift his face up. “You are so, so special. Anyone that knows you can say that. Hell, you’re the best swordsman in this camp. But you know what else? You’re kind, and caring, and you have all this compassion in your heart, despite it all. If he can’t see your worth in that, then that’s a reflection of him, not you.”
Luke didn’t say anything, instead he worked on catching his breath as you continued to rub his back and lay kisses on his forehead.
“Thank you,” he said after a moment, still sniffling.
“For what, baby?”
“For seeing me. And staying.”
“To know you is to love you, Luke Castellan,” you gave him another kiss, this time on his lips.
#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#percy jackson series#percy jackson#pjo#charlie bushnell#charlie bushnell x reader#luke castellan imagine#percy jackson x reader#pjo x you#luke castellan x you
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so dom!mattheoriddle x shy!reader x Theodore Nott who’s there to just hold her and force her to take Mattheo.
just reader, sitting on Theodores lap and him having a hand grasping her two hands and one on her thigh to keep them open. Reader is crying from overstimulation and try to move her hips, while Mattheo is literally pounding into her furiously for talking to another guy. Theodore agreeing with him. 🫢
Jealousy, Jealousy - M.R x Reader x T.N
Summary - A fanfic in which Mattheo and Theodore see you becoming flustered by another boy and get jealous.
Warnings / Mentions - GN!Pronouns, AFAB!Reader, Shy!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Theo is just kind of there, Theo gets no action LMFAO, Overstimulation, Dacryphilia, Reader isn't actually interested in the third party, they only get flustered because they're shy, mention of Hayden Christensen's character Sam because I love him so much that I had to include him...size kink for sure, humiliation kink, breeding kink, mentions of baby trapping, squirting
A/N - As soon as I read this request, I got a second pulse ONG. Also as someone who is shy, writing this made me feel like a total slut
Requested - Yes
Word Count - 2,697
Tag list - @vixxensvoid @maevesversion @sockiess @stylesslytherinskywalker @myheadhurtscutely @yourenogoodforme @gallerygourmet (Add yourself to my tag list and or remove yourself by going to my pinned post! You can also pick an anon emoji through my pinned post!)
Your whole life you have been a shy person; Always getting embarrassed in the most stupid and silly situations. You once got flustered while buying an item at the store, you were trying to explain yourself and stuttering over your words when the shop keeper told you that she was only kidding. The item in question was a packet of Band-Aids, you needed them because you were always tripping over yourself, always finding mysterious bruises and cuts on your body. Unfortunately, Mattheo and Theo had gone a little wild the night before, your neck was absolutely covered in hickeys.
Despite you trying to cover up the purple and red markings; the first thing the older lady said to you when she grabbed the box was, "Honey, you might need to grab another pack with how your neck looks." Of course her comment caught you off guard and you immediately tugged at the hoodie you had on, pulling the neckline upwards in a clumsy attempt to hide the love bites.
So really, it should be no surprise that when a Slytherin boy came up to you and flirted with you; completely unashamed, might I add. You reacted very awkwardly, your face promptly heating up.
You were outdoors in the courtyard of Hogwarts, leaning against one of the trees while practicing a spell from the previous class lesson. You scratched at your head in annoyance and confusion when it once again failed. You huffed a frustrated breath of air as you pocketed your wand.
When you weren't paying attention, a boy walked up to you and cleared his throat to get your awareness. Your eyes drifted up to his face, he had black hair with a streak of blue running through it. He had a multitude of piercings but his most noticeable was one sticking out from below his lip. He wore thick eyeliner and maybe even some black eyeshadow if you were to look close enough.
You recognized him as one of your classmates, Sam. You had never really talked to each other, but you weren't oblivious to him staring during lessons. It never bothered you, it did always startle you and bring a small amount of pink to flush your cheeks. It wasn't out of attraction to him though, more so just being more conscious of yourself knowing that you were being watched, seen, and perceived.
"Having trouble?" He asked, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. Your eyes widened as you stumbled out a response.
"No, well I mean yes, but not anything too hard..." You replied, anxiously messing with your after school outfit. Sam was quick to mutter something under his breath, something that you didn't quite catch but you swore that you heard him say, "Not harder than me."
He quickly spoke up again, speaking more clear this time and with confidence. "You should come to my dorm tonight, my roommate and I are throwing a little party." Your face visibly faltered, and hesitancy was evident on your features. "I'm sorry Sam, I don't really go to parties and I'm supposed to hang out with Mattheo and Theo."
He looked you up and down briefly, his tongue sucking on his canine in what seemed like irritation. "What they don't know won't hurt them." He gently grabbed your hand, playing with the ring that your boyfriends collectively bought for you.
"Sam, I really wish I could go but I just don't think I can make it tonight..." You whispered, biting the inside of your mouth as anxiety filled your system.
"God, are you stupid? I'm trying to say that I like you." His free hand ran through his hair, messing up the typical style he had it in.
Sam was a cute guy, don't get me wrong, but you simply weren't interested and you already had two boyfriends. Which sometimes they can be even a little much to deal with.
Sam's effort to convince you to go was abruptly stopped as a fist connected with his face. He fell backwards, dropping his grip on you when Theo protectively held you against him. Mattheo shook his hand, trying to find relief from the pain he had caused from punching the douchebag flirting with you.
Mattheo basically spat at the fellow Slytherin, "Yeah? Well guess who's dating them." Mattheo would've beat his fucking ass if you let him; Jealousy was raging through both of the boys. Mattheo was more loud about his anger while Theo was just passive until violence was necessary.
Mattheo didn't want to spend another goddamn minute of his time near this asshole, he was already on the ground so there's no need to continue the fight when he's already won. Mattheo's hand grasped your upper arm, dragging you in front of him as he walked away from the Courtyard. Theodore followed loosely behind, his hand resting on the lower part of your back.
They lead you through the corridors, not uttering a single word as they pushed you into their shared dorm. They had already shed their school robes before the quickly ended fight, never wanting to wear the uniform afterschool.
"What a fucking dickhead." Mattheo scoffed, referring to the scene that just played out. He sat on the end of his bed, manspreading while trying to shake the feeling of jealousy. His hands with intertwined as his head hung, just looking at the ground. Theo on the other hand was massaging his temples as if he had a headache.
"The audacity to say all that bullshit is unbelievable." Theo's accent was more prominent, often a result of his temper running thin.
He said an array of curse words in Italian, none of which you could understand. Mattheo just kept staring at the ground, something was definitely on his mind besides the interaction.
You sat down next to Mattheo, Theo still standing; even beginning to pace back and forth. Mattheo put one of his large hands on your thigh, kneading the skin possessively. He was now staring at your thighs and how his hand roamed your skin. His opposite hand was holding up his face as he lazily laid on his palm.
"Why were you blushing?' He finally asks, his fingers impatiently tapping along his cheekbone. Theo's pacing stops as he turns to look at the both of you. His eyebrows furrowing as he thinks back.
You tilt your head in puzzlement, "What?" Mattheo groans, throwing his head back before turning towards you. His left leg hiking up onto the bed. His hands moving to latch onto your hips while he leans in. His face laying on your shoulder as he pulls you closer to him. "I said, why were you blushing? He said he liked you, and you were blushing." Mattheo murmured, his controlling side peaking out. He was trying his hardest to stay calm with you, but he couldn't keep his thoughts away. He saw how you looked at that freak, a blush settled on your face while he messed with the ring that he and Theo got you. It was a promise ring, although that part was technically a secret. They never called it a promise ring, just a gift. But both of them knew that it was them promising themselves to you and to each other as they adorned the same matching ring.
"Mattheo- I was just flustered, you know how anxious I get...especially with other people..." You defended but Mattheo persisted. "With other people? Are Theo and I not enough to get your heart racing?" He quipped back as he selfishly left kisses on your throat.
"That's not what- that's not what I meant!" You stuttered out, your heartbeat increasing in your chest. He hummed against your neck, sending vibrations down to your core. "Right, I forgot, you only get shy around us when we fuck you."
"Mattheo, don't say that..." You whined, embarrassment flooding your veins. "Why not? Too vulgar for you?" He questions, still pressing firm kisses into you. Theo finally laughed a little bit, already knowing where this was going. He sat down on the bed, leaning against the headboard while he watched the heating up conversation.
"Yes! You always say such...risky things..." You mumble out, trying to find the words to explain his vocabulary. "Risky? You really think so? Theo, what do you think?" Mattheo scoffs, his arms protectively enveloping you while he looked over your shoulder at Theodore. Your back was turned to the boy with light brown hair.
Theo thought for a moment, pausing just long enough for you to nervously push at Mattheo's hold on you. Suddenly you felt too warm, like your skin was on fire. Mattheo tightened his grasp on you, placing another kiss to your neck. "Stay still." He whispered, his voice low and commanding.
Theodore ultimately decided to say, "I think...they should be just as flustered when talking to us. We're your boyfriends after all." His sentence started out directed at Mattheo but switched over to you at the end. "Theo-" You whined out in a complaint.
"Always so whiny..." He counters while Mattheo sucks at your jawline, demanding your attention once more. "You heard him. We're your boyfriends, that nobody shouldn't be getting reactions out of you that we don't." Mattheo lets go of his clutch on you, shoving you backwards, leaving you to fall towards Theo. His soft hands pulled you into the free space between his legs. You were in a position where you were partially sitting upright against his chest but loose enough that you were still laying down.
Theo's hands gripped the underneath of your thighs, prying your knees to bend so your legs were open. Mattheo swiftly removed his shirt, tugging the fabric over his head. He shuffled over to your open legs. He practically yanked off your pants, pulling your underwear down along with it.
"This okay?" Mattheo glances up at you, checking in with you. He observed as you nodded your head slowly. One of Theo's hands gripped your jaw, his sultry tone dripping. "Words."
You twisted your head away from the boys, wanting to just disappear from shame. "It's okay..."
"Good, because you obviously need a reminder that we're the only ones that can make you feel like this." Mattheo mumbled under his breath. He undid his belt, tossing it to Theo. Theo made quick use of the leather, tying your wrists together as he secured the rest of the belt in his mouth. Wanting to make sure that you couldn't move your hands while his own held your legs open.
Mattheo unzipped his jeans, freeing himself from the restrictions of his boxers next. He spat his saliva onto his cock, stroking himself a couple of times to coat the fluid over his dick as a makeshift lube.
"Sorry sweetheart, not getting you ready for me today. I need you now." He admitted, lifting your hips and forcing them to wrap around his waist.
He ran his tip through your folds, collecting the wetness. "Holy shit, no foreplay and you're absolutely soaking. You little slut." He ridiculed. You failed in an attempt to close your legs, feeling the embarrassment seep into you while Theo tightened his hold on you, keeping your legs secured in place.
"Aw, poor baby, too flustered from my words alone?" He mocked as you rocked your hips closer to him, teasing his tip.
"So needy for cock..." He whispered as he finally pushed into you. Your walls squeezed around him as you tried to adjust to his size. "Fuck, don't snap my dick off. I forgot how tight you are, shit." He said breathlessly at the feeling.
He slowly moved, trying to ease your cunt into the movement. When you started to roll your hips onto him, Theo slapped your thigh, holding you down with enough pressure so that way you couldn't get yourself off.
Mattheo gained his pace, his hands laying on your hips as he thrusted into you. You could feel Theo's boner pressed against you but he made no strive to relieve himself in anyway. Mattheo pounded into you with no mercy, the sound of your moans echoed in the dorm. You tried to hold back your moans, even trying to muffle them. Mattheo could feel you flutter around him as you climaxed for the first time.
"Couldn't even hold off on one orgasm for a little longer? Fuck, you're such a little slut, you'd probably like it if I slapped you. Maybe you'd cum on my dick harder if I manhandled you." You whimpered at his words, they repeated in your mind as he kept fucking you through your high. But he didn't stop and you knew he wasn't gonna stop.
"Oh come on baby, you can take a little more can't you? Don't you want to be good for me?" He taunted as he slammed back into you. "You know that nobody else could make you cum like this right? Ain't ever gonna leave us." He chattered to himself possessively, as if he was talking himself through the experience.
His thrusts became sloppy as he chased his own high, his eyes were closed tightly as his head flew back. He was still pumping deeply inside you as he came. He pulled out for a second, watching as his cum leaked out of your sopping hole. "So pretty when my cum is inside you."
His eyes darkened as he swallowed harshly. He pushed his tip back at your entrance, but not fully entering you. He was pushing his cum back into you, his eyes were hazy as he re-entered you.
"Can't fuck anyone else if you're carrying my baby, now can you?" He fantasized aloud. He quickly regained his composure, regaining speed, not even allowing you the time needed to recover from your climax.
"Mat-Mattheo, stop, I'm too sensitive..." You whimper out, moans falling loosely from your lips like a waterfall. You could feel the wetness between your thighs, you could feel every single touch, your skin was crawling. It was all becoming way too much.
"Too much, it's too much-" You could feel your mouth going dry as you started to overheat, but none the less, Mattheo kept tearing through your cunt. "All worn out? Too fucking bad." He muttered in a cold tone, not caring about the discomfort you were feeling. You tried to pull your hands apart, the skin itching from the leather belt wrapped around them. Tears began to form in your waterline.
Mattheo was essentially abusing your pussy, all he wanted and craved for was to feel you pulse around him. He drilled into you, observing as you stiffened again, your body shaking as another orgasm was pulled from you. Tears were fully streaming down your face from the overstimulation.
"So fucking precious when you cry, all tired from my cock ruining you. I wonder just how cockdrunk I can get you." You mumbled, jutting your hips out as you squirmed from pleasure and pain. Theo struggled to hold you down, groaning when you accidentally rub against his painful erection. "Stop fucking moving." Mattheo demands, slapping your cunt causing you to whine.
Theo removes one of his hands from your thigh, placing pressure on your lower stomach, making it so you could feel Mattheo's cock inside you even more. You moaned so loud that it was almost pornographic. "Feel that?" Mattheo asks, throat going dry when he sees the bulge in your stomach. He looks at Theo for a second, speaking as if you weren't even there. "Fuck, you should see just how our baby's cunt sucks me back in. Every damn time." He moans, as he cums inside you again. Filling you up, he still doesn't stop, not until the bed is dripping in your liquids.
He finally comes to a stop, pulling out of your pussy with a pop as you squirt. You sprayed his dick with the fluid as he just smiled down at his work with a dominant aura. He was getting off on the fact that he had made you squirt, getting off on the fact that only he and Theo could make you cry from how good they felt.
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