#if i stew on my takes long enough maybe i’ll verbalize them

[autism-alley]

do i have… Opinions abt the pjo show?? maybe. in private amongst close confidants, i might. but publicly?? as a fan who wants all 5 seasons?? incredible. five shiny stars! the best show i’ve ever fucking seen im showing it 2 everyone i know

#genuinely i do fucking love this show #well. do i. #if i stew on my takes long enough maybe i’ll verbalize them #bc i wanna talk abt what i love abt it too #i just don’t know if i can talk abt them w/o touching on what i think needs improvement #might just wait until the season is over we’ll see #percy jackson tv show #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #rick riordan #ris raves #pjo show crit

[fanfic-scribbles]

Marry Me Three

Sequel to: Marry Me 2 - Boyfriend’s Back (All Right)

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: Marriage is stupidly limited. That’s okay– you’ve never found a box that could fit you anyway.

Quick facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader/Bucky Barnes – Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff, marriage talk, a little fade-to-black sexy times

MCU Timeline: Set some nebulous time after CA:TWS

Words: 3170

A/N: At last, the end of the ‘Marry Me’ saga. Please enjoy a bunch of goofballs <3

~

Bucky is brooding.

This isn’t so different from usual, but what is unusual is that none of your distraction tactics are working. The lovey-dovey stuff gets a little kiss before he’s back to stewing in his own head, the funny stuff gets a half-hearted smile before he once again becomes the protagonist of a Russian tragedy, (it is ridiculous that he is not actually Russian, honestly, even Natasha has commented that she feels lacking next to him), and your last-ditch attempts to be annoying get a scowl and some muttered curses before he turns away and does his best gargoyle impression.

Some research is required.

“Is there a reason you’ve started walking around with a notepad and pen and staring at Bucky?” Steve asks, like for all he knows the answer could very well be ‘no.’

“I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with him,” you say. “So I’m taking notes and observations so I can put them together later.”

“Ah.” He sips his coffee and stares at you. “That explains the new corkboard. No string?”

“I had to order it. They were out of red,” you admit. “It’s coming with the safari hat.”

He stares at you. “Why safari instead of a deerstalker?”

“The safari ones looked nicer and shipped faster,” you say. “If the binoculars weren’t more annoying than they’re worth I’d be using them too. Maybe if I’m annoying enough I can actually get him to talk about his fucking feelings rather than keep shutting me out.”

Steve pulls you into a hug and kisses your head. “I’ll try and talk to him,” he says and rubs your shoulder. As he pulls away, he says, “No smoking pipes.”

You hadn’t been thinking about that since your Sherlock Holmes cosplay abruptly stopped with the lack of nice hats available with fast shipping, but now that he’s said no you can’t resist the siren song of pushing boundaries. “Not even a bubble one?”

Steve shoots you a glare and wanders off.

Well, if Steve succeeds, hopefully you’ll be able to find another use for the safari hat. But until he pulls through you will continue to observe Boyfriendicus Moodicus and hope a solution presents itself.

~

Nothing magically happens to make things better. Bucky’s still sullen, but he’s sullen with a guilty edge when he comes up one day and hugs you from behind. “I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk,” he says and presses a little kiss to your head.

“You’re not a jerk,” you say and put your hands over his as Steve watches with a look of concern himself. The talk didn’t go so well, apparently, but at least someone else is on the lookout now. “But I know you’re upset and I wish you’d tell me why. Or Steve. Or an imaginary friend. Somebody.”

“I, uh…” He nuzzles you, preying on your weakness. Bastard. You hope he keeps it up. “I don’t know how to say it,” he admits. “It’s something in my own head, and I don’t know how to…say it right. So I wanna wait.”

“But you will?” you ask and he nods. “Fine,” you say uncertainly. “If it takes too long though I’m getting a little hand puppet, okay?”

Even the thought makes him look annoyed, which is exactly what you were hoping for. They know better than to test you on your most ridiculous ideas, and you make a few open and shut motions with your hand to drive the point home. But something about how Bucky looks at your hand catches your attention. There’s a brief burst of longing and what is he even looking a–

Oh.

Oh!

The ring.

~

Over the next week you take your Bucky Studies very seriously. He said he can’t verbalize it and you believe that– Steve has his moments but Bucky has an especially hard time talking about what he wants and what he feels, (and when you think about the why you end up clinging to him like a koala which is not ideal for observation but is great for very distracting kisses), so you don’t try to push him. The safari hat goes mostly unused, alas, but you do pick up on a few things:

A) Bucky doesn’t just give sad longing looks at your ring, but at Steve’s too;

B) If you and Steve are already fooling around, Bucky is a lot more hesitant about joining in than he was when you all started your, ahem, group activities;

C) A and B are very often paired together– and while A can happen during even just the mundanity of the day, B will always have that look of envy;

and A point 2 C B or whatever) The envious look at your rings is almost always followed by a flash of annoyance. And not at you– you’ve gotten very, very good at reading your partners’ looks of annoyance, (you even have a handy card catalogue you reference sometimes to make them very annoyed at you), but seemingly at himself.

It’s sort of remarkable that you can see all this, because while you’re more observant than people sometimes give you credit for, it’s still something special to be able to observe Bucky without having him call you on it once or twice. It’s nice that he’s so comfortable around you. But it’s not nice that this issue– whatever he can’t verbalize– is eating him away so much that he lets it show for all and sundry.

Still, now you have some data. It’s time to try and formulate some solutions.

~

“Hey Bucky?”

“Yeah doll?”

“Would it make you feel better if Steve and I got divorced?”

Bucky chokes on his drink. Steve, to his credit, merely stops cutting his food and looks up at you past slightly raised brows. You think it’s nice that he understands what you meant. Or maybe he doesn’t understand and he’s just used to your nonsense. If you’re being honest, it’s probably more the latter, but it’s still nice to have your general person so well understood that Steve can hear that and not worry.

“Wh-…” Bucky pauses to take another drink that actually makes it down his throat. “Sweetheart, why would I want that?”

“It’s just a thought,” you say. “Because Steve and I love each other whether we’re together in the eyes of the law or not. Just like we love you.” You have to hurry up when he opens his mouth. “And I know you know we don’t love you any less, but knowing and feeling are two different things and we all have doubts.”

“I don’t doubt,” Bucky says quickly. “But…you’re sort of right. It’s just something I have to deal with.” He takes your hand and tugs you in for a little hug that you both have to lean out of your chairs for. “I don’t want you and Steve to get divorced. I like that you two are married. Also, it’d be a huge pain in the ass and pro’ly wouldn’t do much.”

“Okay.” You kiss his head and lean back. Back to the drawing board. Luckily the drawing board still has some sketches on it. “It’s okay Bucky, I’ve got another idea.”

Both Bucky and Steve are suddenly distracted by ringing phones. You sigh but pull yourself together as they jump up. While they get ready, you shove their dinners into containers so they can at least have a little something on their way to save the world.

“I know it sounded bad, but you get what I meant, right?” you ask Steve in between kissing him goodbye. Multiple times, of course.

“I know. And I agree.” He smiles and kisses you one more time before letting Bucky in.

You make sure to give Bucky just as much physical love as you did Steve, but he’s looking at you cautiously. Still, he kisses you, and says, “Don’t do anything before we get home and talk about your ‘idea,’ okay?”

“Have a lovely day at work; be safe!” you say cheerfully. Bucky is about to open his mouth but you are, strangely, saved by yet more ringing from his phone, and the sounds of tires screeching outside. He rolls his eyes and runs out with Steve, not even pausing when he mouths, ‘We’ll talk later.’

You shut the door and turn back to your empty home. You allow yourself a moment of self-pity before you make a fist and hit it to your palm. This is actually perfect– an opportunity to put your plan into action without any super-significant-other meddling. You are going to get right to it–

–your stomach grumbles–

–after dinner.

~

They come back in two days, so it’s a good thing you decided not to procrastinate on your Secret Plan. The mission was quick and neither of them are injured, but they are obviously exhausted, so you cajole them into taking a nap. Steve is tired enough he does as he’s told, dragging a slightly more suspicious Bucky with him. But Bucky is just as tired, so you blow them both a kiss and, once the door is shut and you hear no more moving, you rush to your little box of supplies and start setting everything up.

When they come out for dinner the candles are all set, the food is almost ready, and your two super soldiers take a moment to fully wake up from their nap and appreciate the nice romantic table you’ve put together.

Steve clears his throat and leans in to straighten one of the candles that had tilted maybe a little worryingly to the side. “Oh, oops; good catch,” you say and put down their two plates. “Steve, come be helpful and grab the wine glasses.”

“Really going all out to welcome us home,” Bucky says, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Yeah sure, that’s what it is,” you say, smiling too hard to sell it, and you all but drag Steve into the kitchen where you promptly shove a little box into his hand, and mouth, ‘Wait.’

His eyes light up, but he grins too and nods, and takes the wine glasses and the bottle out to the table while you grab the last plate and go to take your seat. Bucky looks even more suspicious, definitely not helped by how Steve is the absolute worst at keeping a straight face, but you ignore your husband in favor of the modest but still delicious meal you made. “You’re probably starving.”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky says warily, not even attempting to grab his fork. “Don’t take this the wrong way but– what are you up to?”

You don’t answer, and instead take a bite. In all honestly though it’s hard to focus on the food– you’re very excited for this, and when Bucky keeps staring at you, you think…fuck it. It’s time to put him at ease, one way or another.

So you stand up, walk over to him, get down on one knee, pull out the box, and open it. “Bucky,” you say. “We can’t get married before God and law but…fuck ‘em. I love you just as much as I love Steve and if this is only legit to us then that’s all that matters. So, James Buchanan Barnes, second love of my life but not the secondary love of my life, will you marry me according to the law of this house– coincidentally my law– and be my top-secret husband?”

Bucky considers you with a serious face that looks close to cracking. “Will you promise to unassign “Secret Agent Man” as my theme song?”

“Absolutely not,” you say. “But when I sing it the lyrics will be changed to reflect your new status as ‘secret husband man.’”

Steve breaks, laughing and leaning on the table for support. Bucky even cracks a smile, but you try to stay neutral, to let him know you’re (mostly) serious. His eyes soften like he knows. Of course he knows– he knows you just like Steve does, by now. “Well how can I resist an offer like that?” he asks and holds out his hand for you to put on the ring.

You try to take your time, so that Steve can get over his sudden burst of amusement, but he’s still chuckling when you take your seat again. You take your wine glass and give Bucky a sympathetic look. “I wish I could tell you Steve’s proposal to me was more romantic, but it really wasn’t.”

Steve stops laughing then. “Hey…you aren’t seriously going to tell that story to everyone are you?”

You take a moment to consider. “Well, I guess orgasms can be romantic.”

Steve hides his head and Bucky laughs loudly. “Stevie you fucking cheat,” Bucky says with a wide grin and admiration in his voice.

“That wasn’t the real proposal!” Steve insists. “The real proposal was the next morning. That was…”

“Steve being unable to keep a secret to save his life,” you supplement. Steve opens his mouth and you wave him silent. “Yeah, yeah; you can work on Bucky’s proposal later. For now, eat. I worked hard on this.”

“I’ll take the orgasm proposal,” Bucky says but takes his own utensils in hand. “Is that a special I can order?”

Steve mutters under his breath and attacks his meal like it’s going to run away.  You roll your eyes but get to your food. “Dinner first, then honeymoon.” You take a bite and chew for a few seconds before you swallow and add. “And then cake.”

“The only surprise about this, is that cake is coming last,” Bucky says in amusement and follows suit.

There are so many responses to that. You, a true Hero, refrain in order to at least get through dinner and to the fun stuff without your husband and husband-to-be chucking you out of a window.

~

You get chucked onto the bed, which is way more fun and makes you laugh as Bucky grins and crawls over you in a way that should be slightly terrifying but is honestly just fucking hot, so that when he’s close enough you grab him by the shirt collar and drag him in for a kiss.

“That never gets old,” Steve murmurs, his mouth quirked in amusement as he settles in next to both of you, but his eyes are intense as he, seemingly content, watches for now. As you break for air, Bucky takes the opportunity to grab the back of Steve’s head and move in for a kiss just as hungry as the one he just gave you.

“It really, really doesn’t,” you say and lick your lips. Bucky’s attention is drawing back to you, as is Steve’s. You pull the shoulder of your shirt aside to show your bra strap and wink at Steve. His eyes go pleasantly wide.

“So we’re really doing the honeymoon, huh?” he asks, a full grin spreading across his face. Bucky looks confused, but intrigued.

“The dress is in no shape to participate, but the rest of it is fine,” you say.

“What’s this?” Bucky asks as you sit up and wrap your arms around him. Mostly to stay up– your core strength is nonexistent.

“Go on Bucky,” Steve says, laying on his side and unbuttoning his pants with one hand. “Make your wife more comfortable.”

Bucky’s eyes shine so bright looking at you that you elect to watch his hands as he starts pulling your shirt up, alternately grazing and dragging his fingers across your skin. “Don’t worry,” you say, lips turned into an expression that feels appropriately devilish. “Your husband won’t keep his hands to himself for long.”

True to form, Steve doesn’t, and soon the three of you are a tangle of limbs and love.

~

When all is said and done, you’re all in a contented pile.

Except there's one thing missing. You clear your throat. Bucky looks, but Steve doesn’t. You clear your throat again, and this time Steve lifts his head.

“Aren't you forgetting something?” you say and look at Bucky’s one-ring hand and at Steve and at the hand and at Steve and at the hand and at–

“Yeah, what the hell; I thought this was a two-spouse minimum household,” Bucky says. “How am I gonna meet my quota if you hold back on me, Rogers?”

Steve rolls his eyes and flops his hand back on the nightstand which, to you, looks suspiciously empty. “Are you sure, Buck? She’s like a five-in-one special.”

“Nice try,” Bucky says and watches Steve fumble uselessly for a nice ring that isn’t there. “I’ve been putting up with you too long to let you get outta making an honest man of me.”

Steve turns to look and sees the ring isn’t there. You glare at him but he puts his finger up while the loading widget in his brain circles– and then he digs around under his pillow. Bucky waits. You wait. Steve then pulls up his pillows and shoves his arm down the crack between the headboard and the mattress. Bucky shakes with quiet laughter and you gape. “I swear to God if you break my ring, Steven Grant Rogers…”

“The only way it’s getting broken is if it came out of a box of Cracker-Jacks,” he mutters and fishes for it.

“I thought of that but the only Cracker-Jacks I could find had stickers,” you say, not intending to admit to the five different stores you went to and examined thoroughly. You wouldn’t say you’re banned from any of them, but maybe it’s best not to go back to that Wegman’s anymore. At least, not during the night manager’s shift.

Steve stops and looks at you. “Seriously?”

“I thought it would be cute!” You cock your head at him. “Also how long have you known me that you’re still asking that?”

He grins and leans over to give you a kiss– and then props himself up on one arm as he gives Bucky a sweet smile, holding up the (slightly dusty) box. “Hey jerk.”

Bucky snorts. “Hey punk.”

Steve breaks out the soulful eyes and opens the box. “Marry me?”

You snicker to yourself and Bucky sighs as though put upon, but he holds out his hand and Steve slides the ring on. Right on top of yours. “Knew I was stuck with you when you tried to shove me and ended up right on your ass,” he says and kisses Steve. “Yes.”

~

The next morning you put down the silverware, stick Cracker-Jack stickers on their cheeks, and you all go on in your lives– as husband, husband, and wife.

~The End~

~Omake~

“Wait.” Bucky looks at the rings, then at you. “How did you get my measurements?”

You smile sweetly.

Steve stares at you, and sighs. “Did you have Natasha break in again?”

“No.” They stare at you. “Really!” More staring. “…Maybe.” They glare at you. “It’s Russian Spy Enrichment!” You throw up your hands. “God forbid I help out my friends.”

Both of them groan. It’s okay– as far as you’re concerned, they’re stuck with you.

~ The End (for real!)~

#steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #captain america reader insert #avengers reader insert

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts:

Epilogue:

--/--

6 Months Later

“Stop- Katsuki, stop it!” You huff a frustrated sigh, shooting him an unimpressed glare. “Why can’t you just sit still?”

“Because this is takin’ too goddamn long! Waste of fuckin’ minutes.”

“Well this is important to me, so you’re gonna sit back and shut up and-“ You nearly scream when he shifts again, almost dislodging the measuring tape you’d wrapped around his wrist. “Sit still! Jesus, angry man, it’ll literally take two seconds if you just stop fighting me!”

He grumbles, something low and petulant under his breath, but then falls back against the couch fully. Bakugou finally relents, hand going slack in your hold as he shuts his eyes.

You were gonna kill him, no seriously, you were gonna murder him. He was being so difficult, way more difficult than usual, and you had a sneaking suspiscion it was because he was tired- because, as you’d quickly found out, from only a few months of dating, Katsuki was an absolute toddler about sleep. You’d come to understand that him being tired led to him being cranky, and him being cranky led to him being so goddamn annoying and combative that it made you want to tear your hair out.

He was lucky you loved him so much- not that you told him that yet.

You’d known you loved him for months now, could feel it the way your body heated if you thought of him, the way your blood sang if you so much as heard his name. It was a full body sensation for you- the way you loved him. There was just no escaping it; no escaping the way he’d carved himself a spot in every single part of you. You couldn’t imagine life without him, didn’t even want to try- but you couldn’t tell him so.

Every time you’d tried you were tongue-tied and stuttering and red in the face. The words were thick in your mouth, clogging up the back of your throat. You just couldn’t figure out how to say them; no matter how many times you’d tried. 

You flip his arm over, measuring the space between his thumb and his wrist. You’re trying to be delicate and gentle, but truthfully you really just wanted to get this done quickly.

With the deadline for your last college project quickly approaching, you’d spent the last few weeks doing nothing but devoting all your time and losing sleep over it. It seemed like no matter what support item you’d devised, it didn’t seem perfect- didn’t seem inspired enough to turn in for your final grade. So you dedicated yourself to watching clips and looked at hero rankings and pretty much sacrificed your social life entirely, just to stew over it. It took watching Bakugou’s own hero highlights with him to snap you out of your funk. You wanted to smack yourself; he’d been in front of you the entire time! Of course, it had to be an item for him. So you got to building and designing with renewed spirit.

Katsuki was an amazing fighter, you knew this, and his prowess in battle and raw power alone was quite literally unmatched by almost every opponent- but, the only thing holding him back was that he didn’t do so well with civilians. Try as he might, Bakugou’s loud, flashy, quirk just didn’t paint him as particularly friendly, and his brash personality didn’t help either. And, since you’d long ago given up trying to soften his character, but maybe you could help with his quirk. You figured that was pretty much your degree right?

So, for the past month or so, you’d been secretly working on a gauntlet attachment for him. You’d designed it to quiet his explosions, similar to a silencer on a gun, in hopes that civilians would stop reporting hearing loss after being saved by your very loud boyfriend. Truthfully, you knew it wouldn’t fix all his problems, but maybe then his ratings would go up a tiny bit. And, you figured, if you then just built the prototype you designed, then it could serve as a birthday present for him too. Two birds with one stone, right?

If only it was that simple.

It wasn’t. You were a perfectionist and you’d been pouring your blood, sweat, and tears for weeks now, but it still didn’t feel like enough. It felt like you were running out of time. Even now, while actively taking measurements for said project, you felt uneasy spending time with Bakugou. 

“You done yet, woman?” He peeks an eye open.

“Almost.” You grab your phone, typing the measurements into your notes. “See how easy and quick this went when you stopped being annoying?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to be so fuckin’ annoying if you’d just tell me what you’re makin’ already.”

“Nope. Already talked about this, Katsu,” You let go of his hand. “It’s a surprise! You don’t wanna spoil your birthday surprise, do you?”

You’re joking, smiling widely at him and fluttering your eyelashes. He doesn’t look very amused. Katsuki just squints at you for a moment before poking your side.

“That’s fuckin’ stupid. You’re being annoying. Stop it.”

“Fine. Well I guess since you don’t want it, maybe I just won’t give it to you then.” You tease, moving to leave the couch. “Maybe I just won’t give you any of the gifts I was planning to.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, huffs like he is very inconvienced, and grabs your wrist. He pulls until you’re falling into him, crashing into his chest and settling on his lap.

“I didn’t fuckin’ say that, idiot.” He grumbles, hands falling around your sides. “Stop putting shitty words in my mouth already.”

“I can’t. Pretty sure that’s my job actually.” You laugh, bracing your hands on his chest as you straighten. “Besides, you say like 3 words and all of them are swears, angry man. Someone’s gotta be the talker out of the two of us.”

“It shouldn’t be you. You’re better quiet.” His words were cold, but he was rubbing warm circles into your lower back. “Fuckin’ silent.”

“Wow- we sure are cranky tonight, huh, angry man? Is it bedtime for baby, already?”

“You’re not funny.”

“No, I’m pretty funny.” You laugh, brushing the the wild hair away from his forehead with a gentle hand. “But seriously though, if you’re tired, I don’t have to stay. I don’t mind, I can leave if you just want to sleep.”

He screws his face up at that, comically offended and dramatic as he drops his face into your shoulder. Katsuki’s arms wrap around your sides, pulling you close until you’re flush against his chest. He tightens his grip and doesn’t seem like he plans to let go any time soon.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, angry man, I get it. I won’t leave right now- but I can’t stay for too long.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“That project, remember? I’m nearly done.” 

He huffs again, arms curling tighter around you. You’re a little confused- truthfully, he usually is more physical than verbal, especially when he’s tired, but he’s never this physically affectionate. His voice is a near snarl when he speaks again.

“I fuckin’ hate that stupid as shit assignment.” 

 “Yeah, well, you hate pretty much everything; so I can’t say I’m exactly suprised, Katsuki.”

“No. Seriously.” He gruffs, fingers twitching at your sides. Katsuki takes a deep breath, biting out his next words quickly. “Haven’t seen you in fuckin’ days.”

“Aww-”

“Say another goddamn word and I’ll take it back, woman. Try me.” 

“Okay. I won’t.” You giggle. “But I really am serious, I can’t stay over tonight. Got work to do still.”

“That’s stupid.” Bakugou says and then he’s squeezing you once again, keeping you trapped tight against his chest. “You’re being stupid.”

“Wow. Thanks.” You snort, looking up at him. His mouth is pressed into a tense grimace, so you try patting his cheek playfully. “You know though, one of these days you’re actually gonna have to start using your nice words- can’t just continue insulting me or I might just disappear forever.”

He doesn’t seem to like your joke. Not at all.

“I’m kidding. I’m not going anywhere.” You console. “I’m only picking on you, you know, so don’t be so sensitive, angry man. You insult me all the time.”

“When the fuck did I insult ya?”

“Katsuki-“ You utter in disbelief, your hand moving to play with the hairs on the back of his neck. “You literally just called me stupid!  And you said you liked me better silent! Like 2 minutes ago!”

He shrugs, and you can feel his face heat against your neck, but he doesn’t say anything.

“You’re awfully lucky I like you so much.” You sigh. “Because otherwise I’d have to kick your teeth in every time you opened your mouth.”

“Like you could even get that close to me, shitty woman.”

“Strong words for a man currently making a home in my collarbone, Katsuki.”

“That’s-I- You know what,” He starts, extending an arm and pushing against your shoulders to create distance. “Say shit like that again and I swear to god I’ll...”

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll- I’ll fuckin-“ He stutters, face red and fists clenched. “I’ll-“

You think he looks adorable- all huffy and red and embarrassed where he sits. Katsuki’s eyebrows are pinched together in that competitive crease you’d come to know so well, his mouth curled around a familiar snarl. You were sure it must’ve looked terrfying to anyone else- but you weren’t just anyone else. You were his soulmate and you knew exactly how to get him to calm down.

You caught his face in both of your hands, crossing the distance until your lips met his. Bakugou tried to set the pace, because he always tried at first, armed with bruising pressure and dominance and uncoordinated aggression. You weren’t new here though- you had a lot more tricks of your sleeve than he did.

You ran a hand up his spine, your nails just barely catching on to the fabric of shirt, trailing the back of his neck until they landed in his hair. He damn near melted into you at that, and he pretty much dissolved when your other hand ran under the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re gonna what now?” You asked, pulling away slowly. You’re breathless and blushing yourself but that never stopped you before. “C’mon, Katsuki, tell me. What you were gonna do?”

“I-huh?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot?” You giggled. Unable to help yourself, you pecked his lips again. “You seemed so determined though!”

He’s still dazed- red and embarrassed as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes. You can’t stop the victorious smirk that rolls across your face.

“You’re an evil fucking woman.” He finally says, breathless. “Shitty too.”

“Mhm, I know.”

“Shouldn’t sound so fuckin’ happy about it. ‘S not a compliment, idiot.”

“I know.” You pat his chest, pushing away from him until you’re standing on your own. “Now, c’mon, up. Sleep time, right?”

You see the look on his face, and it almost kills you to crush it.

“No, that doesn’t mean I’m staying, angry man. I’ll take a nap with you and then I’m going home.” You offer your hand out to him. “Sound good?”

"Whatever.” He doesn’t seem all that pleased and he bats your hand away lightly, standing on his own. He starts down the hallway towards his bedroom with stomping steps and you follow. “You better actually go to sleep though- ya got ugly fuckin’ bags under your eyes, woman.”

You stop in your tracks, a wheeze escaping you. It didn’t matter how many conversations you’d had with him, how many times he’d accidentally insulted you with his blunt words, it still surprised you every time. And maybe it was your tired state, all the sleep lost over the past few weeks finally piling up, but his words hurt a little this time- hit a nerve and made you angry. 

“Alright, well, on that note. Maybe I will go home!” You huff, thumping a fist against his back. “That was so mean! What the hell, angry man! I’m literally busting my ass right now and that’s what you have to say to me? That I’m ugly to you? That’s fucking rude! I didn’t- I’m leaving. I don’t even have enough time for this anyway and I-”

He spins around quickly, pressing you into the wall as he grabs your arm. You can’t hit him anymore, not with the sturdy grip he has on your wrist, but the look on Katsuki’s face really makes you want to. He looks insulted, tired, but mostly just annoyed by your reaction. You swear you could kill him that moment, but then he’s gathering you into his chest and you’re melting against him. He’s still your soulmate- no matter how angry he makes you.

“N-not like that. Idiot. Not ugly.” He mumbles against your hair, voice tight and shy. You didn’t have to see his face to know he was blushing furiously. “I meant- I- you’re not fuckin’ sleeping. I can see it. So you have to sleep.”

“I-what?”

“I’m not fucking stupid. You’re tired- it’s obvious. Have been for weeks.”

“You noticed?”

“Course I fuckin’ did.” He shifts on feet anxiously, swaying you a bit in your arms. “See your stupid face all the time- I can tell that shit about you.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that.” You pull back a bit in surprise, trying catch his eyes. He won’t let you, eyes zeroed on the wall, just behind your head. His face is a violent shade of red. You roll your eyes fondly, gently guiding him to look at you with your hands on his burning cheeks. “I shouldn’t have flipped, but that still wasn’t very nice. You really should’ve just said what you meant the first time around, but it’s fine. I understand. School’s just been tough with final assignments and stuff, you know? I’m alright though- just a little tired. Like you said.”

Katsuki doesn’t seem pleased with your answer, his eyebrows creasing as he grumbles something under his breath.

“What? Couldn’t hear you, angry man.”

“I said-” He starts strong, nearly confident until his tone quickly falls off. Then he’s mumbling again and crushing you to his chest so he doesn’t have to meet your eyes. 

“W-what are you trying to say?”

“God, you always make me say such embarrassing shit!” He growls, voice loud next to your ear. “I said- I said- you’re doing too much, idiot! You haven’t been around much and it’s fuckin’ makin’ me mad and worryin’ me and all that stupid, disgusting, annoying, shit! So just give yourself a fuckin’ break, already!” 

You’re pressed close to Katsuki, and when you press you hand flat against his chest, you can feel his heart racing wildly under your fingertips. He must’ve been upset about this for a while, you realize- to be expending this much energy, when usually he’d be dead on his feet at this time of night. You feel a little guilty for it, but more than anything you’re gooey and warm all over. 

“I-I’m sorry. For worrying you.” You soothe, pressing a chaste kiss to his chest. “And I know you tell me not to apologize to you, but I mean it this time. I didn’t mean to worry you. I’ll take better care of myself. I promise.” 

“Good. I-”

“Hmm?”

“N-nothing.” He stutters, flushing violently all of the sudden. He spins on his heels quickly, dragging you down the hallway and into his bedroom. “You have to stay now.”

“No- I can’t. I told you.”

“And I fuckin’ told you to chill the hell out and take a break.” He barks, digging through his dresser and throwing a pair of sweats at you. “Stop being fuckin’ difficult. You’re staying.” 

Truly, you want to fight him. Your brain is running wildly, a million different ideas and worries battering around inside your skull- but he’s right. You are tired. Have been tired for weeks now. If you went home now, you knew you’d just talk yourself into working some more. So maybe a tiny, tiny little break wouldn’t hurt, right? Just something small. A single night.

“Fine. But I’m leaving early tomorrow morning.”

You knew you made the right decision when he smiles at you; a small, tiny, pleased, little thing that just barely curls the edges of his mouth. It seems like it’d be hardly noticeable, but you’d been dreaming of that smile for months now. He very rarely graced you with it, very rarely shared something so delicate and uncharacteristically soft but it winded you every time. 

Katsuki fell asleep almost immediately after pulling your down into bed with him. He’d barely curled around you, hardly even let his head hit the pillow before beginning to snore. That smile stayed though. He kept it even as his breathing slowed and his grip on you loosened. 

That same overwhelming warmth you’d been feeling for weeks overtook you again- that same blistering, endless affection rendering your limbs shaky and your breaths unsteady as you stared at him. 

I love him. You realized. More than anything.

--/--

As it turns out, letting Bakugou drag you into some much needed rest is exactly what you needed. 

The next morning you’d left his place, mind refreshed and completely reinvigorated to once again start working on the gauntlet attachment. You’d love to say it was just the sleep that fixed you up- but you knew the truth. It was him- him and increasingly strange ways of showing affection.

Settling down into your desk chair, you pulled the schematics you’d drawn up once more. There wasn’t much left to build, only a few more parts you’d need to fabricate with your quirk, and then you’d be ready to put it all together.

Using past records of his costumes, and studying various clips of him in his current costume, you’d finally felt certain that you’d gotten it right. It was a pain conducting the research, especially because you’d had to contact the support companies personally, but in the end you were happy you did it. You wanted this to be a possible improvement for him, but you also wanted it to fit in with his current arsenal. It was a risk for sure, giving your prototype as a gift, and you’d be totally crushed if decided to not use it, but you’d take the chance. 

Bakugou had only mentioned the problem a single time in the past, and even then it was a passing comment, but you couldn’t seem to let it go.

I’m sick of kid’s always fuckin’ cryin’ when I save them. My explosions aren’t that fuckin’ scary, are they? 

He’d said it in the middle of a rant, his eyes pressed tightly together as he paced angrily, but something about his tone struck you. When he said it, he didn’t sound angry. Bakugou sounded upset and frustrated and almost hopeless. You knew it bothered him more than he let on, and from then you wanted to help him- but you couldn’t imagine stripping him of his quirk. 

It, his explosions, were important to him. They were his power and his pride and they helped him save people. He was so, so proud of them, and it broke your heart to think that they were the only thing left holding him back. So, you figured, what if he kept the force but lost the sound? Kid’s normally liked bright lights a lot more than loud sounds, after all.

Grunting with effort, you began fabricating gears and wires and screws between your hands. It took hours and nearly all of your energy, but you’d finally done it. You had everything you needed to finish his gift. 

The next few weeks flew by in a flurry of construction, and deadlines, and sleeplessness but by the time his birthday rolled around, you were ready. Your schematics had been turned in and approved by your professors, you’d passed your final project, and you were finally finished building the prototype. Everything was going great- but you knew why you were really happy.

The last few weeks had been packed for you, and you’d hardly had time for anybody. You felt guilty about it, of course, and you only felt worse when you only heard Bakugou’s voice over the phone each night, but there was no helping it.

Or, at least, there wasn’t- but it wasn’t crunch time anymore. You’d suddenly found yourself with an wealth of free-time, and you knew exactly who you were gonna spend it on.

--/--

Using the key he’d given you, you slipped into the apartment, closing the door quietly. It was difficult in the dark, stumbling slightly with the gifts and cake currently held in your hands, but you’d managed it. Everything had gone smoothly on the way there, you’d just put the cake safely in the fridge, and now you could wake your soulmate up to the best birthday of his life.

What shame he had to go and ruin it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You jumped, heart seizing in your chest. 

“Jesus- fuck.” You yelled in the dark. You blindly felt your way out of the kitchen and into the living room, towards the sound of his voice. “Bakugou! What the fuck, man?”

“What the- no! Me! I should be the one fuckin’ saying that!” His voice was raised, and you couldn’t see his fists but you knew they were probably clenched tightly into fists. “Almost blew you up, idiot! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh my god.” You huffed, hands rubbing at your tired eyes. “I was going to wake you up! Surprise you! Because it’s your birthday and it’s- wait, what the fuck are you even doing up? It’s like 6:30 AM, on a Saturday!”  

“What the hell are you even on about? I’m always fuckin’ awake right now!”

“Yeah! On a work day! When you’re working!” You can’t help but be frustrated; you wanted to be cute and sweet and Bakugou had ruined it entirely. As he so often did. “But you’re not even working today! It’s your day off! And I know you sleep in on those, so why?”

“Couldn’t fuckin’ slee-”

“What do you mean?” You interrupt, finally flipping the light switch and flooding the room with light. “Swear to god you’re dead to the world the second you hit the pillow! Literally happens every time I stay over. You’re out by 8:30! Why is today of all days the day you choose not to sleep?”

He doesn’t say anything in response to your outburst, and that’s when you finally look at him. It had been almost 3 weeks since you’d last visited, and he didn’t look like you remembered him. It wasn’t anything super obvious at first, but upon closer inspection you could see the deep bags under his eyes, and the pale, lifelessness of his skin. He was telling the truth; apparently, he really hadn’t be able to sleep- and it didn’t start just last night either.

“Hey. Katsuki,” Your irritation from earlier faded. Suddenly filled with concern, you stepped towards him, taking his face in your hands. Bakugou tried to turn away, but you didn’t let him. “What’s up, huh? You alright?”

“Fine.”

“No. You’re not. You look tired. Are you sick?”

“No.” He mumbled, his hands falling on your waist as you stood in front of him. “I’m fine. Workin’ a lot or whatever. I’m fuckin’ fine.”

You nod, eyebrows rising in surprise as he suddenly pulls you in. He presses his face into your stomach, arms around your sides as he shuts his eyes. There it is again- that unusual physicality. This strange behavior had stopped for a while recently, but now it seemed to be back in full-force.

“Do you wanna try sleeping again?” You ask after a beat. “I’ve got birthday stuff for you, but we can do always do it later. We’ve got the whole day, right?”

“What- you plannin’ to actually be here or some shit?” He grumbles, with a lot more intentional bite than you’re used to hearing from him. “I’m surprised. Didn’t know an idiot like you still had the fuckin’ brain cells to remember.” 

You’re shocked, rendered completely still and stiff in his hold. Was he- was he mad at you? 

“What?” You try to push away from him, to get a look at his face, but he doesn’t let you. Bakugou’s arms only tighten and you’re left even more confused. “Are you upset with me? Are you tired? What’s wrong?”

“You really fuckin’ piss me off.”

“What?” 

He only growls under his breath, voice raspy and deep. “Whatever. You don’t fuckin’ get it. Let’s just go to sleep.”

“No- but I-” You stutter, feeling out of place. Katsuki sounded so frustrated and angry and you couldn’t figure out what was wrong. “If you’re upset with me we need to talk about it. What happened? What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t respond to your question, only knocks your feet out from under you and stands with you in his arms. You’re dumbfounded. He has never, not ever, carried you anywhere. He’s never even made an attempted to lift you! Something was seriously off with him today- and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what it was. 

Katsuki was mad at you. You knew that, he’d said it himself. But then why was he carrying you down the hall to his bedroom? Why wasn’t he kicking you out?

He kicks open the door, pushing it shut loudly behind him. He looks pissed when you look up at him, his eyebrow’s creased together in an agitated line, but even so, Katsuki sets you down on the bed gently. You’re hardly able to catch your breath when he’s climbing in on the other side, pulling you close and lying practically on top of you.

“What? I- Katsuki?” You asked desperately, brain reeling. “What’s wrong? I don’t understand?”

“I’m fuckin’ tired, woman. Go to sleep.”

“I can’t! Not when you’re upset like this- seriously, what’s wrong?”

“You. You’re what’s fuckin’ wrong!”

“What?”

“God, you’re so fucking dense!” He growls, angry voice vibrating against the skin of your neck. “Fuckin’ showin’ up in the mornin’ like nothin’s wrong? Been avoiding me for weeks now!” 

“What- no! We literally called last night! What are you talking about?”

“We called for 2 fuckin’ minutes before you fell asleep! And you-” His voice drops suddenly, and then he’s pressing even closer to you, starting up once again. “You piss me the hell off, you know! Sayin’ shit about how you’re gonna do better and then leavin’ for weeks? Not talkin’ to me? What the fuck is that? And then you sneak in here and scare the shit out of me! And you’re running your stupid fucking mouth about the whole day when you’re not even gonna be her-”

Oh. Oh.

He was mad because you’d been busy; because the last time you’d seen him, Bakugou had told he was worried about you, and you blew him off. The last time you’d seen him, you’d promised that you’d take better care of yourself and then you didn’t. All you did was continue working yourself to death, and while you didn’t regret it for even a second, you hadn’t kept him in the loop. You’d barely even managed to call him each night, and even then you’d fall asleep half-way through every conversation.

“Have you been worried this whole time?” You asked quietly.

Bakugou takes a deep, shaky breath, and you can feel his eyelashes flutter against your neck. 

“You were worried.” You whisper. “Weren’t you?”

He nods minutely.

“I-I didn’t realize. I told you- but I didn’t realize. I was so focused on school, so busy, I’m so sorry.” You press a kiss into his hair, your heart sinking when his shoulders tremble. “I missed you too.”

“I didn’t fuckin’- I didn’t-”

“I know. I said it. I’m saying it. I’m sorry, Katsu. I missed you.” You sigh, tightening your arms around him. “Is that why you’re not sleeping well?”

Bakugou is silent but he tenses, going completely rigid under your hands. Your stomach drops.

“It’s-I’m good. Really, this time. Everything’s done. I’m completely finished and everything is gonna go back to normal.” You cradle his face, making him look into your eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. We’re good.”

“Are we?”

“What?”

Bakugou shakes your hold, tucking his head until you can’t see his eyes anymore. You can hardly see any of his features, but you see the wobbly line of his mouth. Can feel the shaking of his fingers. When he speaks again, it’s quiet. Barely there.

“Didn’t mean it, last time, when I said your eyebags were ugly. You’re not ugly.”

You blink, hardly able to recall the conversation. Wasn’t that the last time you had visited? Weeks ago? Why was he still thinking about it?

Bakugou huffs again, apparently frustrated by your silence.

“So I’m s-sorry. For insulting you. So now you don’t have to disappear again.” 

Your eyes widened.

“You know though, one of these days you’re actually gonna have to start using your nice words- can’t just continue insulting me or I might just disappear forever.”

You remember how upset he’d been when you’d made the joke- how his shoulder’s dropped and his eyebrows caved and his mouth smoothed out into a thin line. Was that really the last time you’d visited? Did he think you were mad at him this whole time? 

 Guilt flooded you, awful and thick and viscous as it tore through your stomach. You had to make him understand. You just had to.

“No. I- Katsuki. Look at me. Look at me.” You insist until he’s looking at you. His eyes are the dullest you’ve ever seen them- more vulnerable than ever before. “I didn’t- I was just busy, I promise! Not upset. I didn’t mean to ice you out like that. It’s fine! I know you didn’t mean it.”

Katsuki growls, grasping for your hand and hiding his face behind it. “I didn’t- I’m sick of stupid angry shit I say ruinin’ stuff for me. So don’t just fuckin’ say it’s fine if it’s not.” 

“It is. I promise. We’re good.” You soothe, caressing his burning cheeks with your knuckle. “That was a bad joke, okay- I didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t have said it if I knew it was gonna make you worry so much. I promise I was just busy these last few weeks. Nothing you say is ever gonna get rid of me, alright? Not even if you tried! Because I love you and I-”

“You what?” 

You freeze, shifting uncomfortably as your cheeks heated up. This was not how you wanted to tell him. You wanted to tell him like you meant it, not just tacked onto the back of a bunch of other statements. He’d heard though, and no matter what you wanted, you couldn’t run from it.

“You what?” He asks again.

“I-I love you. Katsuki, I love you.”

Bakugou jolts, nearly jumps out of his skin and then he’s digging his face into your neck. He’s hot, his skin nearly burning, and there’s a strangled, clipped noise leaving his mouth. You’re filled with so much adoration in that moment that it nearly chokes you, but it’s freeing too, because you’ve said it. Finally. After waiting your entire life for him, after knowing him for so many months, after loving him for so long, he knew.

“I love you.” You repeated again, giggling breathlessly. “I love you, you dummy.” 

He finally lifts his head, expression so full of awe and disbelief and childlike confusion. It’s just like the first time you’d really kissed him; like he couldn’t figure out why you loved him. It was like those first few days all over again and you couldn’t help it. You loved him so much.

Grabbing his chin, you pulled him in, guiding until his lips met yours. You felt him smile as you kissed him, and you realized you were wrong. That first real kiss might’ve been nice; but it wasn’t heaven- itwas only the gateway to paradise. But this? This was the real Elysium. 

His body moved against yours, so close and warm and pliant. He was letting you set the pace, without resistance or force or argument for the very first time. There had been a lot of past kisses, you had hardly been able to keep yourself off of him, but none of them had never felt like this before. He’d never trusted you like this before. You got to be the one taking and taking and taking where’d you spent so long giving. 

It was consummation. Finality. Your perfect ending. 

You pull away, panting for breath. He follows, resting on his forearms and dropping his forehead to yours. 

“I-I- I love you. Too. Idiot woman.” 

You laugh under him, cackling loudly as you turn to press a kiss into his forearms. Of course he’d said it like that. It’s tough love or not at all with Bakugou Katsuki- and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Stop laughing!” He orders, face screwed up uncomfortably. “You’re always fuckin’ laughing at me! You fuckin’ witch! Stop it! It’s- I’m not- I take it back! I don’t- stop makin’ fun of me, shitty wom-”

“Hey, Katsuki?”

“Oh my fucking god! You laugh at me and then you go thinkin’ your just gonna interrupt me while I’m yellin’ at you? No fuckin’ way! I’m not gonna allow that shit in my own fuckin’ house and I-”

“Katsuki.” 

“Jesus christ! What?”

“I love you.” 

He freezes entirely, collasping his entire weight directly on top of you. He’s so hot it’s like his skin is burning. You wrap your arms around him with a happy giggle, burrowing your own blushing face into his hair. 

“I love you.” You whisper, slow and earnest against the shell of his ear. “I really, really, really love you, angry man.” 

He startles again, jumps in your arms and only seems to run hotter. He groans something strangled and defeated, until he’s sinking into you again, pressing you against the mattress.

“S-s-stop fuckin’ saying it. You’re doing it on fuckin’ purpose.”

“Doing what?”

“You fuckin’ know, you witch woman.”

“No, I really, really, dont.” You say indulgently, laughing as you drop kisses into his hair. “Care to share?”

“No. Fuck no. I’m fuckin’ done sharing. Forever.” 

You rolls your eyes, once again enduring his very familiar dramatics. “I wasn’t laughing at you, Katsuki. I was just happy to hear it- that you love me too.”

“Well, remember it, because I’m never fuckin’ saying it again.”

“Not even if I say it to you?”

“Especially not fucking then.” 

“You’re so difficult sometimes, I swear. You’re really lucky I love you so much.” You say softly, before scratching idly at the back of his head. “Now, c’mon. Get off me. I didn’t forget- you need to go to sleep.” 

“I’m sleeping here.”

“No you’re not, you man-child. You’re gonna crush me.” 

“Good.” 

“No, not good. You wanna celebrate your birthday with a murder charge?”

“Yes.”

“Katsuki.” You laugh, pressing against his chest. “Seriously. Up. You’re supposed to use those muscles to save people not kill them.”

He just groans loudly, flopping backwards gracelessly. Katsuki is pulling the blanket up and shutting his eyes, and you think everything is finally okay. Until he clears his throat. Until keeps clearing his throat.

“Oh my god,” You huff, opening your eyes. “What’s wrong now?”

“Say it again, idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid. You know what I’m asking you.”

When you look at him, he’s got his eyes screwed shut, his cheeks red. You thought he was adorable- just the cutest man in all of Japan. You knew what he was asking, of course you did, and if he hadn’t been so upset earlier you would’ve made him work a lot harder for it. As it stood now though, you just scooted closer to him; shifting until you were right next to his blushing face and sharing the same pillow.

“I love you.” You say, running a gentle thumb over his heated cheek. “Now go to sleep, okay?”

You can see the smile he’s fighting, the way his lip twitches and he raises a hand to cover it. Then he’s pulling you close and digging his head into the pillow.

All is quiet, and finally, finally, he gets some sleep.

—/—

Katsuki, on a good day, was an absolute beast to wake up- on a day off however? The man was damn near impossible to stir. 

You were squatted next to the bed, trying to pull the pillow out from under his head as he held it in his grip. It was absolutely unfair- even at his groggiest your soulmate had the strength of a one man army. It was seriously pissing you off. 

“Are you kidding me right now?” You’re grabbing at his wrist, trying to pry his fingers away from the pillow but he’s not budging. Katsuki’s got his eyes shut tight, and he’s dutifully ignoring your every word. “I’m serious! It’s noon! Get up already!”

He finally peaks one eye open, just barely enough to see your irritated expression. Katsuki huffs, rips his pillow away from you completely, and flops on his other side. His back was to you, and normally you’d be thrilled about the free chance to drool over the planes of muscle- but this wasn’t a normal occasion. It was his birthday and you’d already made him breakfast and he was refusing to get up and eat it. 

“Bakugou Katsuki, I swear to god, if you’re not up in two seconds, I’m not gonna kiss you for a fucking week!” 

This does seem to illicit a response from him, because then he’s flipping back over, mouth pulled into a snarl.

“You think I care? You starved me out for fuckin’ weeks already!”

You want to roll your eyes. You thought he was being awfully dramatic and you knew you really shouldn’t stand for it- but he wasn’t technically wrong. However inadvertently, you had been neglecting him, and maybe it was time to treat him instead. Just this once. 

“Oh my god, you silly man, come here.” You relent, climbing onto the bed and hovering over him. “If you wanted a kiss you should’ve just asked.” 

“I-didn’t! When the fuck did I say that because I-”

You pressed your lips to his, effectively shutting him up. It was a trick you’d learned early on, but damn if it wasn’t still useful. You pulled away right when he started to get handsy.

“No. Bad.” You say, batting his hands away from slipping under your shirt. “I didn’t just waste all that time trying to get you out of bed just to be pulled in. Now, c’mon, you have breakfast to eat and presents to open- it’s your big day, birthday boy.”

“Fuckin’ exactly. Let me do what I want.”

“No, because if I let you do what you wanted you’d sleep all day and only wake  to go blow something up.”

“Sounds like fucking bliss.”

“Alright, well then I guess you’re gonna have to experience nirvana all by yourself because I’m going to eat.” You pat his chest, climbing off the bed and standing straight. 

Bakugou grumbles under his breath, but then the blankets are rustling and he’s rising to follow you out the door. He tears into the breakfast you’d made him, shoveling eggs and bacon and pancakes down his throat at an almost inhuman pace. You would cringe, but you’d seen this scene already many times before. 

“You ready for presents, now?” You ask, putting the dishes in the sink.

“Sure. ‘m not a fuckin’ kid though, you didn’t have t-”

“I wanted to. Seriously. So be quiet and be a little selfish for once. Please.” 

He nods tightly, following you into the living room. He’s settling on the couch, once again rubbing at his eyes when you bring the gifts over. There’s three of them in total and he chooses to open the smallest one first.

“Fuck- this a new watch?”

“Yep.” You nod. “To replace the one you blew up last month.”

“When the- how the hell did you-”

“I have my ways. Now, seriously, promise me you’re gonna be careful with this one.”

“Okay.”

“Katsuki, that’s not a promise.”

“I’m not gonna just fuckin-”

“Say it.”

“No! Why the hell should I have to fuckin’ say shit just because you were spyin’ on me, you freak!”

“Katsuki.” You glare him down. “Promise me.”

“Jesus fuck, woman. Fine. I promise I won’t blast this one to pieces, alright?” He rolls his eyes. “Ya all happy and cheery now?”

“Very.” You smile brightly, moving to grab the second gift and place it in his hands. “Here’s the next one, open it.”

You watched him set the watch aside carefully, before taking the second gift. He might’ve been grumbling, but he couldn’t completely hide the smile trying to stretch across his face. You were glad you made the effort- he deserved every good thing and more.

“This is a jar.” He says flatly, looking down at the unwrapped gift. “What the hell?”

“It’s a swear jar. You know, for practicing how not to offend everyone within a .2 mile radius.” You deapan, taking the excess wrapping paper from him to throw it out. “You gotta work on it, Katsu- news has to censor you so much that your public appearances sound like EDM music.” 

“I’m gonna blow this up.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.”

“No. You’re not.” You laugh. Then you lean towards him, sidling up close and lowering your voice as you run thumb across his jaw. “And, hey, if you figure out how to make it through the week without filling it up, I’ll give you something really, really nice as a reward.”

“Reward?” He’s asks, quickly putting down the jar. You know the look in his eyes, and you’re not surprised when his hands wander to your waist. “’s empty now, right? Think I fuckin’ deserve it. Huh, sunshine?”

“Nope. Sorry, Katsu.” You smile sweetly, dodging as he leans in for a kiss. “It’s saturday- week doesn’t start until tomorrow!” 

He groans, loudly, falling boneless against the couch and tugging you with him.

“You make me want to blow my fuckin’ self up. You know that, you shitty woman?” 

“Aw, thanks. Now, cheer up- you’ve still got one left to open.” You say, patting his grimacing face.

You shake his hold, just barely avoiding when he tries to pull you back as you grab the last present. This box is a little different from the last two, you’d spent extra time trying to make sure it was wrapped nicely and you’d even tied a ribbon around it. You hoped he’d like the gauntlet attachment- you didn’t think you’d be able to hide your disappointment if he didn’t.

“Yeah, so this next one,” You start, placing the box in his hand delicately. “I made it for you myself. Designed it too.”

He pulls the ribbon on the box, tearing away the paper. It’s like time stops for a moment, rolling nerves arresting you and choking your breath. You’re nervous and you feel like shaking and you so desperately want him to like the gift. Want him understand just how much work you’d put in for him and just how easily you’d do it all over again.

“Yeah so it’s an attachment for your grenade gauntlets, right?” You start, right when he’s pulling the device from the box and holding it in his hands. “I was thinking- wouldn’t it be nice if you could quiet your explosions sometimes? You know, for when you’re saving civilians and kids and stuff so they’re not so scared. Basically it works kind of similar to a suppressor on a gun, dispersing and slowing down the blast just a little to muffle the sound, but it’s just a little more high-tech and way more powerful- to match your quirk. Obviously. And it’s adjustable so, if, for whatever reason, you needed to wear it outside of your costume, you can collapse it slip it on like a bracelet and-”

Bakugou is silent. He’s almost frozen as he stares down at the gift, only twisting the gift around in his hands to get a better look. His eyebrows crease, and your stomach drops.

“No- it’s- please don’t get mad! It’s not supposed to offend you or anything! I-I know you don’t need my help to save people, you can do it all on your own, I know that.” You rub your arm anxiously, eyes averted to the floor. “I’m just trying to help- you know, because you always talk about your ratings going up, and I’m sure you could totally do it on your own, I know you could, but I just wanted to help you cause that’s what I do, support, and I can’t help you out on the field and I-”

Pop.

Pop pop pop pop pop

When you finally look up at him, you’re blinded by the smile on his face. It’s bright, and beaming, and brilliant as he fires off explosions. You can see the light dancing on his hands, the force of combustion shooting his arm back, but it’s quiet. It sounds like pop rocks and bacon grease and popcorn instead of cracking thunder and collapsing buildings and then he’s laughing- he’s laughing something full and joyful as he stands, holding his hands up right next to his ears and setting off more explosions.

“You hear this shit?” He yells, that wide smile dazzling you all over again. “Fuckin’ works!”

The nerves disappeared, the tension seeping from your body entirely as he grinned at you. It was worth it. Entirely worth it- you’d give anything, start all over and do it all again from the start just to see that smile. 

“You wanna hear?” He asks suddenly, nearing you with his hands raised. “Listen!”

“No! No- I’m- I’m good, Katsuki.” You laugh, batting his hands away from your head. “I can hear it just fine from here, no need to singe my hair.”

“I wouldn’t-”

“I know.” You smile up at him, poking his broad chest. “So you like it? Right? Because it’s just a prototype, first draft, you know, so if there’s anything you want to change about it, let me know. Or if you just don’t want it I-”

“I’m fuckin’ keepin’ it.”

“Huh?”

“I’m keepin’ it. It’s cool as shit.” He smiles down at you, eyes crinkled at the edges. “Besides, stealth, right? Could blow a fucker up in the next room and you wouldn’t even know it!”

“But I- I made them for you to save people? Like to help them?”

“And they could be used to blow shit up more effectively too. Win fucking win.” Katsuki pulls you in suddenly, arms falling familiarly around your waist. “Good shit, sunshine. Thanks.” 

“Of course.” You sigh, looking down at your feet. “That’s what I was doing- when I was gone. Designing it for my project grade and then building it for you. Sorry I got so carried away, I didn’t realize I was gone so long, you know?” 

“You’re still stupid for it, but it’s fine. Fuckin’ get it.” He grumbles. “You’re done now or whatever, right?”

“With school? Yeah I mean, I’ve still got graduation and stuff but otherwise I’m pretty much-

“Move in with me.”

“Huh?”

“God, you always make me fuckin’ say it again!” He flusters, voice loud and raspy. “I said- move in! Here! You’re fuckin’ disappearin’ all the goddamn time to wherever the fuck and I’m sick of it!”

“Y-you want me to move in? 

“That’s what I just fuckin’ said! Idiot!” He thunders, face a violent red when you look up at him. “And I’m not gonna fuckin’ say it again so you either have to say yes or no because I-”

“Yes. Obviously. Of course I’ll move in!” You say, warmth filling your chest as you throw your arms around his neck. “I love you, of course I will!” 

You see the smile he can’t contain- one so dazzling and arresting, as he looks at you. One exactly similar to the brilliant one from earlier. You couldn’t believe that sentiment made you emotional- the thought that you made him just as happy as explosions did, of all things. But it did make you emotional. It really, really, did.

“What’re you- stop cryin’.” He says suddenly, calloused fingers catching your tears. “Why’re you cryin’? I didn’t even say anythin’ rude this time!” 

“No, it’s not that.” You sniffle, grabbing his hand and kissing his knuckles. “I’m just happy. Really, really happy. I love you, you angry fucking man.”

Katsuki leans in for another kiss, and you don’t dodge it this time. You meet him in the middle and melt into him just as much as he melts into you. You can feel his hand under your chin, the other on your back, and you don’t think you’ve ever been warmer than in that moment.

You’d been waiting your entire life for him. For all of this. You were warm and loved and so very, very happy that it nearly knocked you off your feet. 

Or it would’ve- but when your knees weakened he just held you closer, righting you without missing a beat. You suddenly loved him for that, and for everything else too. You loved him for all that he was and his angry words and his subtle gestures. He was sizzling gunpowder and sharp steel and seared ashes, but he was the softest landing you’d ever known too. There was no hitting the ground with him, and he’d never let you fall alone. 

You’d know Katsuki was forever since the day your tattoo appeared, but it didn’t truly sink in until you’d learned to love him. Until you’d known him. Now you knew him like the back of your hand; you saw his face behind your eyelids, heard his voice in your dreams, and thought about his touch every waking moment. He was your other-half, as scary and loud and intense as he was, and you wouldn’t change a single thing about him.

He pulls away suddenly, and when you glance up at him he’s staring right at you. 

“I love you.”

Your breath catches. You thought you were thrilled to hear the words last night- but it was nothing in comparison to now. Bakugou was finally looking at you, catching your gaze and holding eye-contact and his voice was soft like you’d never heard it before. His tone was bare, no anger or attitude or bite- just him and three little words that took your breath away.

In that moment, Katsuki is the only person in the entire world. There was no one else and no other conclusion, and of course you ended up here. He was the only ending you’d ever surrender to. The only finality that could ever possibly taste so sweet. 

And suddenly, all at once, you loved him all over again. 

//-//

i- sob. plS this was so much fun to write and im gonna miss it sm !! 

once again, thank u to everyone who liked and commented and reblogged any part of this! this is the first ever multi-chapter fanfic i’ve ever written , and i really really was nervous about my characterization and writing and stuff, but you all made me feel so welcome here.  i appreciate it sm. way more than any of you know.

anyways, thank u once again for reading lovelies and i hope u all stay safe. i love y’all. <333

#bnha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou katsuki x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bakugou x self insert #bakugou x y #bakugou soulmate au #bakugou soulmate textfic #bnha fic #mha series #mha soulmate au #soulmate au #bakugou imagine #bakugou series #bakugou fic

[solomonish]

Love is Just a Feeling I Do Not Need (Lucifer x Reader)

Even if this dream isn’t yours, just keep dreaming it.

based off of this song.

ao3 link: here!

Ah, don't you know all this shit is annoying me It's not my act and it's driving me crazy That gaze you're giving me, that voice and that face I see Ah, don't you know? I hate them so-o-o

Though Lucifer was normally a fan of reliability and structure, this was a routine he wouldn’t mind going on without.

Every Thursday, sometime between the hours of 5 and 6 o’clock, you and Mammon would find yourselves shuffling nervously in front of his desk, shoulders hunched in anticipation for the verbal lashing you were about to receive. Most often than not, he’d direct his frustration towards Mammon, saving the gentler reprimands for you. It isn’t that he intended to go easy on you - if anything, he truly thought you could do with a little more firm punishment - but you normally got roped into Mammon’s schemes in the middle of trying to stop them. It was a noble, yet foolish, effort, and forcing yourself through the same vicious cycle seemed punishment enough for your naivety.

If ever there was a chance at levelling with you, Lucifer would hope you’d agree that receiving such a punishment was him was a blessing in disguise. He never lacked in the discipline department, but compared to the types of demons out there that weren’t bound by honor or loyalty and would love to take a bite out of you, his lectures were hardly anything to complain about. Though you’d furrow your brows or glower at him every now and then, it was your sweetness that got you into your messes and it was what allowed those transgressions to pass. He could tell that, as burdensome as you clearly thought he was in these moments, you never intended to interrupt his work or irk him beyond repair.

However, even the sweetest of fruits could rot if left on the table for long enough, and you were no different.

Lucifer had hoped that you might be a good influence on Mammon, or at least teach him a little bit of responsibility, but it seemed the influencing was happening the other way around. You got braver with your challenging looks and quips of defiance, only pushing the boundaries further the longer you were in the devildom. Perhaps, in his effort to allow you to ruminate on your actions yourself, he had spoiled you, for you were certainly acting far out of the bounds of what was appropriate for your situation. Not only did you seem to find your consistent troublemaking a persistent problem that needed fixing, but you also thought that, in a house filled with some of the most powerful demons in the realm, you found it a wise decision to directly challenge him, the oldest, the one most capable of hurting you. Lucifer wasn’t known for his tendency to hold back his anger or his punishments, and exchange students didn’t exactly have the privilege of diplomatic immunity.

Even worse, when he told you as much, all you had to say for yourself was, "You know, you don't have to put on this authoritative act for every little thing just to earn my respect."

Even worse for you, you had a lopsided smile that you couldn't repress, one full of arrogance and challenging him directly. He clenched tighter onto his desk, not quite sending spindling fractures through the wood but hearing it creak in protest all the same. Almost immediately, that cocky grin slipped off your face and you murmured an apology, lowering your head in submission in the hopes he would only continue his lecture and not add on to the punishment.

If the work slotted into his day had been any less, he would have come up with some sort of punishment for you. Your sudden cowardice was not enough to force his pride to keel. But his workload was already too immense to be dealing with a human’s daring - stupid - display of defiance, so he waved you off shortly after and stewed over his reports.

Lucifer didn’t miss the way you practically scurried out of his office, nor could he block out the harsh whispers outside his door as Mammon fussed over you. For a brief moment, he figured that he should call you back, give you a fitting punishment for your continued antics and save the future version of himself from these headaches. However, he knew that it’d only breed harsher animosity within you, and you would only work harder to annoy him. At the mere thought, his headache returned, and he focused on the paper on the desk in his attempt to block out the pain.

Whether it was due to your tendency to attract danger or his own tendency to micromanage once given a job (and dedicated to his task to assist in the exchange program he was), Lucifer found himself keeping an eye on you whenever he could. Oftentimes, he was out of your range, working in his office or assisting Diavolo wherever he may be in the expansive school. Even during class, when he wasn’t pulled aside to help Diavolo, he was in some of the most advanced classes in the school, all far above your level as a human thrown into an unfamiliar realm. That was one of the reasons he assigned you as Mammon’s responsibility - even though he did know, deep down, that his brother would rise to the occasion, he was also the only brother in a few of the lower level classes you had. That was a thought he didn’t dare linger on for too long, lest he feel another flare of anger build up.

Still, there were moments when he passed you in the hall, or beckoned you to follow him into his office to smooth over some administrative details regarding your exchange student status in the Devildom. Each time you turned your back, he found himself watching you leave, as if his gaze alone was enough to send you safely on your own. Nobody caught him staring - and if they did, they had the wisdom to pretend they didn’t. Yet you were human in every aspect of the word, tactless, weak and unwise, and when you caught his gaze - which he hated to admit had happened, and hated even more to count exactly how many times it happened - you smiled at him kindly. Those times, you weren’t planning anything or hoping to annoy him. You were merely treating him like a friend, giving him a silent greeting when you knew he wouldn’t make his way over to you to meet you properly.

Treating him like a friend...treating him with as much familiarity as you did his brothers? The thought insulted him. If you weren’t afraid of him, he would have to amend that quickly. Until he could see the respect in your gaze, and until he could be certain you feared him how he wanted you to, he loathed that stupid grin on your face as much it made his stomach churn.

It isn't fate or a miracle that brought us here Expecting nothing, it all remains so unclear Since I don't mind if you aren't really the best I'm sure that we'll be fine Come and hold me tight

Weeks and months did nothing to quell your troublesome nature. If anything, the more familiar you found yourself with your surroundings, the more you tried to bend the rules until they broke. Lucifer was aware of all of your antics - at least, he certainly hoped there weren’t any he was missing, because then he’d wonder if your feeble human body could handle all of that activity. Still, Lucifer was a man who knew how to pick his battles, no matter what his behavior with his brothers may say. More often than not, he warned against the stupid ideas he could see brewing in your mind, figuring that if there was no stopping you he could at least instill you with the proper sense of caution.

If he sat too long on the thought of how much trouble you really did cause, the only thought in his mind screamed the audacity! What kind of entitlement did you think you had? How could one human decide this realm was theirs to meddle with?

It was infuriating how much you managed to get wrapped up in, despite your inexperience. Perhaps it was that inexperience that had you scrambling about the Devildom like a new, untrained puppy that insisted on chewing everybody’s shoes? (This is why Lucifer never allowed pets, he realized. If his brothers couldn’t control a creature they could communicate with, how could they control an animal?) Maybe you assumed that being under the care of the seven demon lords meant you had some sort of immunity to the consequences of your antics. But being under their care did not mean they cared for you, and it was time that you realized just how lucky it was that you managed to survive this long.

Brash as it may sound, you weren’t anything special. At best, you were extraordinarily lucky (or unlucky, depending on how you enjoyed the exchange program); one human chosen out of billions. You had no standing here, not one of chosen status, no power or understanding of the magic that ruled the world around them.

It did work in your favor, if only a little bit. At least this way, Lucifer had no expectations of you coming in, so your disruptive behavior was no more disappointing than was to be expected. He had no image of you in his mind, nothing for you to contradict. It’s not as if you really cared what he thought, but it sure saved him the bother of reconciling his mental image with the unfortunate reality you were. Of course, that also meant that he didn’t always know what kind of trouble you were about to stir up, just that you would definitely stir up some trouble.

It isn’t until he hears a loud crash and your voice among the startled yelps that he realizes how much time he took from his reports to reflect on you.

Or rather….on your behavior.

Love is just a feeling I do not need I can't handle it so I'll go on tirelessly Close your eyes and feel me breathe down your neck Even if this dream isn't yours, just keep dreaming it

Yes, this was the best solution.

He noticed the way your shoulder tensed when you heard his footsteps. Have you learned the sound of his footsteps already? How cute.

You were sitting at a table in the library with Satan standing not too far away. Lucifer remembered Mammon begging someone to be your escort home so he could take care of some business with the witches, and after some arguing and a firm interruption by yours truly, Satan was tasked with bringing you home safely. Of course, he had to stop in the school library first - some human wasn’t going to force him to change his plans. You had the wisdom to take out an assignment to work on, clearly one of the easier ones that wouldn’t be too disturbed if you stopped in the middle when Satan was prepared to leave.

Lucifer didn’t plan on stopping in the library, but Diavolo was stuck in a separate meeting and he happened to be walking by, so why shouldn’t he check on the human in his charge?

He approached you with quiet, even steps, enjoying the way you went stiff as soon as he was near enough to start speaking to you. You looked to be expecting that, though, and he just couldn’t have that. No, instead he stepped directly behind your chair, placing one hand on the back of it so his gloved knuckles barely brushed against your shoulder. Bending at the waist, he leaned down so his chin almost touched your other shoulder, his breath ghosting your ear as he peered down at the paper in front of you.

“I see you’re taking your duties here in the Devildom seriously for once,” He started, his voice almost a deep purr. “Diavolo will be pleased to hear this report.”

You were fighting a shiver at the sound of his voice alone. He knew that you knew that he could feel the way you held back your shiver. That probably pleased him more than if you had actually done it.

“U-uh, yeah,” You stammered, fiddling with your pencil. “I’m just...trying to get some work done.”

He hummed, looking over your answers and taking his sweet time doing so. The longer he remained leaning by your side, the more he could hear your breath shallowing. Even if he was in charge of your safety, that didn’t mean he couldn’t still have a little bit of fun with the human that had a penchant for having too much fun with him.

Before you could swat him away, he quickly straightened himself out and patted your shoulder. Satan had returned by that point, just rounding the corner of a bookshelf and narrowing his eyes the moment he saw Lucifer. A second later, his eyes drifted down to you and he furrowed his eyebrows - clearly, Lucifer had affected you much more than he could see, and the thought made him preen himself on the inside.

“I trust you’ll keep up the good work. Keep an eye on them, Satan.”

His cold demeanor was back, and neither of you had anything to say about it. How joyful things turned out to be.

Much to your chagrin, Lucifer was a fast learner, and he took to flustering you just enough to keep you sedated when he felt you’d cause trouble. At first, all it took was a little invasion of your personal space, a targeted breath or a pat on the shoulder, all things you could easily brush off as just him trying to communicate a point the way humans do. After a while, you built up a feeble tolerance that he could send toppling down again by switching those pats to gentle strokes. He might be getting friendly with you, but you never made any attempt to push him away.

He didn’t have any ulterior motives. He could justify himself by saying this was the only way to keep you under control. Lucifer may not have been the avatar of lust, but he was never one to be shown up by his brothers. Seduction was an art form he had mastered long ago, and even if he wasn’t purposely intending to bed you, he was a maestro at using his skills to affect you. Besides, the faces you made and the way you flustered yourself when he was even in the same room as you was enough to encourage him to keep going.

It didn’t matter that, after a while, Mammon had convinced you to get back into his schemes. It didn’t matter that when Lucifer asked you sly questions about finishing your work, you had some response about needing to have time to make his life even harder.

There was no harm in trying to keep you charmed, was there? Not when you seemed to be enjoying it so.

It's no use to just regret all night long So instead of mourning why don't you take me along? Just admit that I'm the best, can't you see? Love me till I hurt oh baby, come dance the night away with me

This was a song and dance the two of you learned the steps to quickly, one that went on for much longer than it had any right to. This was a fact you realized when it, quite literally, culminated in a dance.

Lucifer considered himself a master of tact, figuring that he could settle your tomfoolery once and for all with a rather serious talking to. Maybe, since this time you conversation would happen in public with the prince as a witness, you might listen and take some of his words to heart. Or, in the worst case scenario, at least he could be sure to keep your attention for long enough to get a meaningful message across.

Getting you alone was easy enough. Though you were surrounded by some of his brothers, it seemed Mammon was the only other one interested in separating you from the group and was stumbling over himself in his efforts to make it happen. Besides, even with the way you disregarded every warning he gave you, at least you learned that Lucifer only ever asks as a formality. So, he found himself leading you by the hand to the middle of the floor, placing a hand on your waist as casually as one can and mimicking the way the others moved around you.

“What is it you’re plotting with Asmo?” In order to keep the conversation between the two of you, he leaned down slightly to mutter in your ear - not close enough to raise any suspicions, but close enough that you could certainly feel just how much he had you in his grasp. Moments ago, he had already made you aware of his intentions, so the shocked expression on your face really had no right to be there. Still, he couldn’t say he didn’t find a sort of pleasure in the way he could practically hear your blood rush through your veins as you tried to keep up your facade of control. Unfortunately for the both of you, you were as easy to see through as you were frustrating.

“Let me make one thing clear,” He practically hissed, enjoying the way you shivered. “I respect my brothers’ freedom to do as they wish. However, if I ever sense that you’ve become a threat to Diavolo or us, then I will show you absolutely no mercy. Understood?”

Lucifer made sure to snake his arm around your back, holding you against him and gripping your hand with as much strength as he could without truly hurting you. He had effectively caged you in, making sure that you knew there was no escape from the way he knew things needed to be done. And you really needed to stop poking your nose into their business.

“I-I want to be good friends with all of you, Lucifer,” You answered, giving a pathetic tug to the hand in his grasp. Without responding, Lucifer narrowed his eyes at you and relaxed his grip slightly. Somehow, you proved yourself to be a bigger fool than he originally thought.

“Well, that is not what I want.”

He watched your face fall at that, and there was the strangest coil in his stomach at that reaction. What, had you genuinely thought you could just waltz into the Devildom and call the Demon Lords your pals? What would you even have to gain from that?

Before he could admonish you further, Solomon appeared from the crowd, offering you a smile that was so casual it could only be practiced. For just a moment, his eyes flickered to your waist, where Lucifer’s grip was still strong - Lucifer didn’t dare loosen up, lest Solomon think he had any shame in being “caught.”

When Solomon asked to steal you away, Lucifer obliged, sending you off with what could only be described as a warning glance. You seemed relieved to be in the hold of somebody else, and Lucifer couldn’t blame you. At least you seemed to have some common sense about you. Still, he couldn’t deny the way the coil in his stomach only got tighter.

He figured it was just a result of both human exchange students being massive headaches and did his best to brush it away.

Ah, don't you know all this shit is annoying me You're in my world now, away from reality As long as I can toy with you for just a moment Then I don't mind, if you aren't really mine

Perhaps Lucifer was a fool for thinking if he left you alone you wouldn’t fester.

You had managed to be so, so much worse than he ever expected you to be. It wasn’t enough to simply meddle in the affairs of the brothers so readily available to you - no, five demons were not enough to sate your endless need for trouble. So, in the few months you had been in the Devildom, you decided to somehow find the one brother he needed to keep hidden from you and, in the process of going against explicit orders, set Belphegor free and get yourself killed. For a moment, seeing your lifeless body in Mammon’s arms, Lucifer wasn’t sure what had thrown him off: seeing his brother free and knowing the punishment that was charging towards him fast enough that he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop it, or the mountain of paperwork that would surely come from this turn of events. Mammon’s desperate denial echoing through the entrance of their manor wasn’t exactly helping, either.

But then you did the only thing you did better than causing endless migraine for Lucifer: you fixed your mistakes and started building something better from them.

After you revealed yourself and let the brothers know that you were still alive - while also somehow airing everybody’s dirty laundry at once, something he made a note to talk to you about - he watched as somehow, slowly, his brothers looked at each other with the same appreciation they used to in the Celestial Realm, lurking just beneath the surface. Sure, there was still plenty of progress to be made, but he finally saw a fracture in the insurmountable mountain he had been facing for thousands of years - and it was all because of you.

With the churning feeling the thought brought him, he started to understand how love and hate were thought of as two sides of the same coin.

Leviathan could be found peeking out of his room slightly more often, gravitating to the room you were in with a handheld device and offering to show you what he was playing. Satan took his books out, too, sitting in the same room as you and occasionally casting what he thought were sneaky glances your way. Asmodeus insisted on spending more time with you in his own way, trying to hide the way he held your face in his hands a little longer than necessary by saying he was assessing the state of your skin. Beel seemed more open around you, occasionally dropping snacks in your lap without needing to be asked, giving you a look that seemed to both ask if you were alright and assure you that he was when you met eyes. Even Belphegor had warmed up to you, trying to sandwich himself in between you and anybody close to you or pulling you away to quieter spaces where he could nap in your presence. Lucifer watched as the unease gradually melted away from your expression with each attempt he made to get you alone, until you seemed to feel safe with him.

As usual, Mammon stayed by your side, especially in the days after your...incident. There were many times when you would sit on a couch in the common room, only for Mammon to come flying in moments later and sit so close to you he was practically on your lap. Lucifer bit his warnings for him to be careful back at least half of the time, deciding that this puppy-dog behavior at least seemed to be keeping the two of you out of trouble.

Trouble…

It only took your untimely death and a harsh reminder of just how close you had managed to get to his brothers to force him into realizing that trouble was all he ever thought you of. Lucifer couldn’t quite decipher why that left such a sour taste in his mouth. Perhaps it was the fact that since the incident with Belphegor, he had barely seen you. Honestly, he only saw you a fraction of the day compared to the amount of times he needed to usher you into his office to set you straight beforehand. As embarrassed as he was to be suffering through such...withdrawal, a long day of stress from his brothers had him summoning for you before dinner.

You only opened the door enough to squeeze yourself through, sneaking in as if he were a sleeping lion you shouldn’t dare to wake. He watched as you slowly made your way in front of his desk, fiddling with your fingers the way you did when you were nervous. Strange. As far as he knew, you hadn’t done anything wrong. He hoped that if you did, you had the wisdom to keep your mouth shut.

“You wanted to see me?” You asked in a small voice. Lucifer held you in a steady gaze, glad that Mammon decided not to follow you this time. He’d have known how much of an act this was from the get go and scold him for ‘making the move on his human.’

“Yes.” Lucifer took his sweet time shuffling through the papers on his desk, watching you through his peripheral vision. He could feel your stress levels rising as you waited for an unknown blow, watching as you subconsciously fidgeted the longer he let the silence go on. When he decided that he had teased you enough, he leaned back in his chair and said, “I merely wanted to see how our exchange student was doing.”

“H-huh?!” You asked. Indignation flashed on your face in the most wonderful display before quickly being taken over by your practiced calm facade. “O-oh, I’m fine, thanks.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Just fine?”

“Well….yeah. I’m good.”

Clearly, you weren’t one for conversation right now. With a sigh, he leaned back and thumbed through the papers on his desk again before pulling one out of the stack and placing it in front of him. Furrowing his eyebrows, he reached in his drawer and pulled out a small stack held together with a paperclip and dropped that one on top of the single sheet, holding back a smirk at the way you flinched.

“Good. Then I suppose we can get started on this paperwork about the whole accident.”

“What?!”

“Well, we still have to file an accidental death report. Or perhaps we should fill out an injury notice…? Ah, nevermind. It seems you’re up for both.”

He allowed you to turn on your heel and leave without another word. After staring at the now-empty space for a moment, he put the stack of absentee notices back in his drawer and continued on with his work.

It isn't jealousy or hate that made me act like that I'm not like her, so there's no need to get mad I know my way around this heat that we feel So don't worry, just enjoy Don't give me that look, boy!

You ran your hand down the side of your face, trying in futility to wipe the sleepiness from your mind. Sitting in the dimly lit office, you listened as Lucifer droned on about your test grade. The lecture had turned into a study session, which you appreciated, but it quickly turned back into a lecture after one too many mistakes on your part. You could see the irritation clear on his face, yet he was speaking to you as if you had just been caught plotting something treasonous against Diavolo.

You tried to huff quietly, but Lucifer’s sharp ears heard you. The stony glare he held you in woke you up instantly. “Oh, is this too boring? Perhaps that explains your performance.”

Already having been caught, you sighed. “No, Mammon has just been keeping me up lately.” It was too late in the night to think about how you accidentally ratted him out.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed so you could only see the red seemingly glowing with the rage he was hardly holding back. Stopping the pacing he had taken up an hour ago, he turned towards you and took long strides to stand in front of the desk until he was beside his chair. You kept your sleepy gaze locked on his eyes, a silent challenge for him to back down. What would he do to the precious, fragile little human while they’re half asleep?

With a sigh, Lucifer closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, his own way of breaking the stare-off without really admitting defeat. “I should have known he had something to do with this.”

“Hey…” If Lucifer ended up punishing Mammon for your own slip-up with your grades, you’d be feeling guilty about it for weeks. “It wasn’t really his fault. I should know by now how much studying I need to do…”

“Hmph. Since this leads back to him, I suppose I have no choice. The two of you are banned from seeing each other until I can come up with a fitting punishment and study regimen to set you both straight.”

“What?” You stood up from your chair, not changing how he literally looked down on you but feeling as if you looked more imposing. “You can’t just do that!”

“I will do what I must to keep you on track, as is my responsibility.”

“You cannot forbid me from talking to your brothers. Besides, isn’t he supposed to be my guardian?”

“You have more pacts, should the need arise. If he insists on hoarding your time as he has, then-”

“Oh, is that what this is about? I didn’t expect you to be so jealous about it.” You scoffed. “Now you’re really being a Mammon.”

“Do not compare me to him in that way ever again!” He barked at you, slamming a hand down on the desk with a loud bang! That shut you up quickly, and you watched Lucifer warily in case he lost control of himself. For a brief moment, the human glamour surrounding him faded and you saw a flicker of his wings, feathers splayed out and bristled in his anger. “This study session has gotten away from us. You may turn in for the night.”

Despite his mighty anger, the time you spent with him and your inherent recklessness left you unable to cower. The longer you stayed in a stand-off, the more pointed your expression got until you were giving him the most doubtful expression he had ever seen on your face. “You know, I wouldn’t mind spending these nights with you if they didn’t always end with you yelling at me.”

As if on cue, the D.D.D. you left on the desk lit up, allowing Lucifer a glimpse of the many messages and calls left by none other than the second brother. Fighting back a grimace, he watched you snatch it up and collect your books in a hurry. Some of the papers crinkled as you shoved them into your bag, but he didn’t wince - he did play a part in your haste, after all.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who you were going to vent to in a few minutes. Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to care, though, not when he had the distinct feeling he had ruined his chances at a goal he wasn’t aware he was trying to meet.

Love is just a feeling I do not need I can't take it so untie it as much as you please Close your eyes and stop your breath if you dare Even if this dream isn't yours, just keep dreaming it

He hadn’t intentionally softened up on you, yet he found that he took those words to heart.

After the incident in his office, you told him that you thought you’d study better on your own and improved your grade with your next test. In the weeks leading up to it, Lucifer could hardly get you to stop for him, only seeing you at dinner and when he would text you about urgent transfer student business. Even after he got word of your improved marks, he still had trouble getting to you for long enough to offer a proper congratulations. You really did prove yourself to be a ton of effort time and time again.

It wasn’t until you started to seek him out that he was able to properly communicate with you again.

You found him in the kitchen when he had dinner duty, on a rare night when he didn’t need to bribe someone to pick it up for him. He could feel your presence even with his back turned, aware of the way you leaned against the doorframe and crossed your arms. He finished chopping the ingredients on the cutting board in front of him before looking over his shoulder at you curiously.

“Need a hand?” You asked. Something in your voice was different - more confident. Lucifer could hear the challenge in it, even if the details still hadn’t made themselves known.

He gestured to the small pile of dishes in the sink, not about to turn your company away. You nodded and started to run the water, letting silence settle between you. Finding himself watching you for a few beats too long, Lucifer cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his chopped vegetables. He noticed that the second half were chopped a little more unevenly than the other pieces, and he quickly pushed them into the pan.

Clearly, you had taken a page from his book and decided to leave him in wait, biding your time before finally hitting him with your carefully chosen words. Unlike you normally were, he wasn’t on the edge of his seat, sweating in anticipation - but the longer the silence wore on, he found his patience wearing thin. Even if this performance of yours was amusing, he still found himself aggravated by just how far you thought you could push your luck.

Finally, you decided to speak up. “Have I been avoiding you these past few weeks?”

Lucifer didn’t let himself falter in stirring the pot on the stove. “I believe that’s a question only you know the answer to.”

“Hm. Well, I haven’t been meaning to.”

“Based on our last meeting, that much has been hard to tell.”

“Do you really think I’m so petty?” You turned the water on to rinse the bowl in your hands, forcing him to wait until responding.

“With so many strong personalities now bound to you in pacts, it’s hard to tell how their influence will manifest.”

You gave him a bitter laugh, shoving your hands in the water until your palms flattened out on the bottom of the sink. The warm water felt hotter on the skin on your forearms that hadn’t been able to build a tolerance to it. Even if your intent was not to start a petty argument, his intentions clearly didn’t align with yours.

“No, I think I have to solid a grasp on myself to let them do that to me.”

He said nothing, but you could hear his confident footsteps as he approached you. His gaze met yours in a silent challenge as he slid the cutting board in the water, unconsciously allowing himself to gravitate towards you. When he got too close for you, you grabbed a spatulat from the bottom of the sink and gently pressed the flat end against his chest to push him away. Lucifer glanced at his shirt, clearly miffed at the damp stripe across his chest.

“You know, Lucifer, if you want a pact with me, you just have to ask.”

For a moment, the expression on Lucifer’s face was too convoluted for you to make sense of. He certainly didn’t look caught off guard, but he also wasn’t as furious as you thought he’d be. With his eyebrows furrowed together and his gaze searching yours, you couldn’t figure out where his shock and confusion ended and his anger began. You cursed him and how he always seemed to have a grasp on what he let you know through his expressions alone.

Lucifer stood there, hoping that the confusion on your face wasn’t covering something else that would force you away from him. He couldn’t understand how you always managed to pierce through him and see directly into his mind. As he was coming to understand it, he did want a pact with you. Certainly not because he saw how close those brothers of his were to you now, though - he was not the avatar of envy, and he had nothing to be envious of, especially in regards to them - but the thought of his mark on your skin, the thought of you belonging to him in such a way was undeniably appealing.

However, every interaction with you didn’t seem to push him in the direction of ever obtaining such a relationship with you.

Quickly gathering his wits, he only scoffed and went back to his post on the other side of the kitchen. You turned towards your job, too. This time, he wasn’t the only one ruminating in stubborn silence.

I don't feel no guilt, oh, is that so wrong? Ah, instead of asking why don't you take me along? Just admit that I'm the best, now you see Love me till I hurt oh baby, come over here and set me free

Asmodeus: You won’t believe what I just found out about the succubus I was telling you about yesterday! Satan: Have you gotten to the seventeenth chapter yet? It really is the turning point, in my opinion. Leviathan: ok thx Lucifer, YOU S*CK!: Heh, yeah, that’ll be perfect. Mammon: Oi, are you even paying attention to me?!?

With a sigh, you turned your D.D.D. off without responding to the messages and tucked it back in your bag.You were already on your way to the House of Lamentation. The brothers could (and would) bother you the moment you walked through the door.

“I’ve sighed like that many times,” Lucifer said beside you, looking down at you with a polite half smile. “My brothers are hounding you again, no doubt.”

“Yeah...they’re quite...affectionate.”

“That is a word you could use,” He agreed. “Though sometimes, not the most accurate.”

You chuckled them, purposely averting your gaze. Part of Lucifer wanted to direct your attention back to him so he could watch the pretty blush that painted your cheeks as you laughed, but he kept his hands to his sides. It was so difficult anymore to know what you were thinking. The closer he got to you, the more he learned to find comfort in your presence, the more he found the pesky feeling of hope cloud his judgement and his crystal-clear vision. How could he be sure that, now that the two of you were finally on good terms, you weren’t comfortable with the relationship? It had been so long since Lucifer had to forge an entirely new relationship, and he had the world’s most troublesome (or second most troublesome, considering your competition) human to work with. Though he was never one to question his own judgement, he still couldn’t help but tsk at the sheer absurdity of the task.

“This is probably the most peaceful walk home I’ve had in a while. It’s astonishing how easy they make getting caught up in trouble on the way seem.”

“Is that why the other day you seemed so shocked when we told you the walk was only a few minutes?”

You chuckled again. “Yeah. All the detours make it seem longer.”

“Perhaps one of these days, I should take you on a detour of my own then?” When you stopped walking, he turned back to give you a sly smile. “I’m not one to be bested by my brothers, you know.”

“Wow, ruthless,” You began walking again and fiddled with your backpack strap nervously. “Maybe I should be the one to plan it, though. I’m not entirely convinced your version of a detour wouldn’t involve more paperwork.”

“Shall I be looking forward to this date, then?” Lucifer could feel the embarrassment radiating off of you. He loved to make you this flustered, so he could realign his sights while you were too preoccupied to hide behind anything. And you just so happened to be unbearably cute with your face turning red. The way you muttered ‘yes’ and dashed up the steps to the house had him preening.

Love is just a feeling I do not need I can't handle it so I'll go on tirelessly Close your eyes and feel me breathe down your neck Even if this dream isn't yours just keep dreaming it

Bit by bit, Lucifer found himself finally, finally getting closer to you without any unpleasant endings. (Well, save for the ones where one of his brothers interrupted and dragged you away, but the two of you shared a fondness for their shenanigans that made it difficult to stay mad at them.)

Or, well...staying mad at them was difficult for you/.

Lucifer wasn’t upset with his brothers, but there was a certain frustration bubbling up beneath the surface that he had to wrestle down every time he had a moment to wonder about their actions. He couldn’t blame them for wanting to spend time with you - after all, he himself was trying to make himself time in your schedule. Not only that, but the ever-approaching end of the semester was looming over them, and everyone could feel the desperate attempts to get one last bid for your affections in before you left. The whole situation was rather distracting, his far-wandering thoughts only adding to the time he spent hunched over his desk instead of out with you.

Lucifer was not a man to waste time bemoaning facts that he could not change. That did not mean he was immune from all feelings of doubt or irritation. He might have been able to concentrate if there wasn’t such a pesky thought creeping up on him the second he let his mind stray from his papers. Still, he couldn’t help the ugly sensation of being caught in a competition where he might actually be losing.

Though he had faith in your tenacity - that and your boldness were truly qualities to marvel at - Lucifer did wonder just how much you valued availability. He thought that the two of you had come to a silent agreement - that you thought alike, that you felt alike - but as much as he knew what happened beyond the door to his office, you remained the enigma.

It would be so easy if he could just get you to admit that he was the one you thought of above all the others. The desire for such a simple statement, he hid with faux aggravation at your refusal to admit such a simple task. As much as he tried to convince himself that you were hanging out with the others as a replacement for him, he knew just how much and how uniquely you valued the others.

He didn’t need to use force to get what he wanted, but he was slightly accustomed to nothing standing strong in the presence of his power. You, however, never bowed, and it grated at him how much he wanted to rightfully earn that place in your heart and how difficult it was to just get you to say it.

His thoughts distracted him from his papers, his papers distracted him from his thoughts. They all distracted him from you, aside from when he wondered if you were thinking something similar about him.

Are you really asking why you're alone? Turned your back on me and I get why you don't want more Come back, hold me, dear, love me till I scream

Your departure was approaching, and Lucifer found himself alone.

His moments not spent on work or cleaning up after his brothers were normally spent with you. Unless, of course, those moments happened in the early hours of the morning and he should be dead on his pillow.

Perhaps if he found himself graced with your presence, he wouldn’t have slept anyway. It wasn’t sleep he was chasing, after all, but you. You were the one he was vying for, even if his pursuit felt less romantic and more like running after a wild goose. No good things came easy, he told himself. He didn’t need easy.

But your longing glances were getting harder to pull away from, and the days until you left were already in the single digits. It was hard enough to steal you away for a moment, let alone enough time to lay his intentions bare and finally get what you both wanted.

He hated the thought that he had let you take the lead in the relationship in a roundabout sense, so he preoccupied himself with anger over having to do all the hard work himself.

He could list off all the reasons you would return to him, the obvious choice, for hours if asked, and even then only put a dent in the miles of options. The fact that he even considered justifying himself to anyone felt foreign, but he let his mind settle on the thought anyway. Still, it didn’t go unnoticed how you didn’t try to leave the sides of his other brothers, how nobody bothered to knock on his door anymore, too preoccupied with you. He missed you already, and he hadn’t even seen you off yet.

Lucifer knew that you’d come to him eventually. He didn’t doubt you, and he certainly didn’t doubt himself. But you had a habit of making him wait and wonder.

He was just about tired of waiting, he was tired of wondering, and he didn’t know if he could take another dream that only left him more confused than he was when he fell asleep.

Don't you ever wake up baby, keep on dreaming our dream

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me swd #swd obey me #lucifer #swd lucifer #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #swd lucifer x reader #lucifer fics #lucifer fluff #mine #THIS FIC IS CURSED #IT TOOK ME LIKE THREE WEEKS TO ACTUALLY WRITE IT AFTER MONTHS OF TAKING UP MY BRAINSPACE #AND THEN I POSTED IT THE FIRST TIME TO THE W R O N G B L O G #anyway #not the MOST 100% proud with how it ended up #but proud enough to post it! #ready to throw this baby out into the bond like breadcrumbs to the duckies #y'alls.....are my duckies :3c #i'm gonna go punch lucifer and then kiss him now #and i'll do him more justice next time #kenna out (affectionate)

[cherienymphe]

Protect & Serve VII (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: Cop!Steve, graphic violence

IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DNI

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary:  escaping an ugly past, you have no choice but to return home. While much has remained the same, Officer Rogers is a new addition who has won over the hearts of the town in your absence. And no one believes you when you start to see him for who he really is

~

You were shivering when you woke up, the low temperatures not exactly kind to you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to regret your actions. The only possible regret came from the harsh throbbing in your ankle. You looked down at it with a frown, noting how swollen it was. There was no doubt in your mind that it was broken now.

Pushing yourself to your feet was a struggle, and you looked around the dense woods with a grimace. A hollow feeling was in your chest, fear overtaking you. You were at a loss. You truly did not know how to get yourself out of the situation you found yourself in.

Steve and his clan of crooked cops were definitely looking for you. That wasn’t even a question. On the other hand, your ex-husband was in town looking for you too. As much as you hated to admit it, Killian was indeed the lesser of two evils. You’d rather be found by none of them, but given the choice, you’d take Kilian.

You stumbled towards the road, gripping every tree you passed, gritting your teeth in pain. You looked down at your nightgown, grimacing at the reddish-brown stains. Steve’s blood. You stayed close to the road as you walked, ducking every time a car passed by.

Your ankle was screaming, and you hoped that you hadn’t done any irreversible damage when this was all over. You didn’t know how long you had been walking, but a car was coming by, and you were just about to duck, but the color and make of the car was familiar to you. They were driving slow, and that should have worried you, but the only thing you felt was relief when the driver’s side window rolled down.

Aldrich Killian was just as handsome as you remembered. His blond hair was smoothed away from his face, blue eyes wide as they connected with yours. You almost fell several times as you stumbled towards him while he parked his car on the side of the road.

The tears spilled over as soon as you fell into his arms, and the severity of what had happened to you finally hit you. Here you were, crying in the arms of the man who’d verbally, emotionally, and physically abused you for years. All because he was better than the alternative.

“Honey,” he breathed, pulling away to wipe your face, brows furrowed. “What happened to you?”

His concern was genuine. That was the possessive nature peaking through. Only he was allowed to make you miserable. You knew that it would wear off in a few days though after he’d had time to stew over the divorce and you leaving town. You didn’t care though. You had gotten away from him once. You could do it again.

“We have to get out of here,” you breathed, frantically shaking your head.

His frown deepened, concern coloring his features as he ran his eyes over you, his gaze lingering on the dried blood.

“What happened to your car? People are searching for you. The police are-!”

“No, no,” you sobbed. “Not the police. Killian, please! Get me out of here.”

He paused at the distress on your face, the fear in your eyes as you looked around, as if you were afraid someone was going to come out and get you. You were. He rubbed his hands along your arms.

“Honey-.”

You pressed your lips against his, swallowing down your bile as you did so. He seemed taken aback at first, but he soon responded in kind, moving his mouth against yours. You felt sick to your stomach as he wrapped his arms around you, and your chest was heaving when he pulled away, nose brushing yours.

“Please, Killian… I’m sorry about everything. I never should’ve left, I know that now, but please… Just take me away from here.”

He pursed his lips.

“We should take you to a hospital or the police-.”

“No! I- I don’t need the police, I just need you.”

Your eyes flickered between his, heart thudding in your chest, and he slowly nodded. He wrapped an arm around your waist, all but carrying you as he helped you to the car.

“I’ve been driving along these roads, searching for you for days,” he murmured, as he helped you inside, strapping you in. “I knew you had to be around here somewhere. I never gave up.”

You threw him a shaky smile, blinking away tears as he shut the door. You were just desperate to get away from here. You weren’t worried about Killian taking you to a hospital or the police station anyway, the man never was one to follow the law or do the right thing. Besides, he had what he came for: you. You knew that he would want to get out of town as much as you did.

You thought to yourself that Steve had really done a number on you because you felt no fear as you sat beside Killian. There was nothing the man could do to you that was worse than what Steve had done to you. Relief filled you as he drove down the smooth road. You were still technically a missing person, but you knew that Killian would handle that when need be. For once, you were actually grateful for his money and influence.

You were on the verge of sleep when you felt his hand rest on your thigh, and you turned to look at him. His eyes were on the road, but his jaw was clenched. Having weathered this storm before, you braced yourself, telling yourself that you only had to stick it out until you were far away from this town.

“You know… I was real hurt when you filed for divorce. Even more when you just up and left without a trace. Almost like you were running from me.”

His voice was low, but the underlying anger was detected, nonetheless.

“I wasn’t running from you. I was…confused and sad and lost. I was on my own for the first time in a decade. I didn’t realize how much I needed you until I no longer had you,” you whispered, taking his hand.

His eyes were narrowed, skeptical as he glanced at you.

“I was without you for 5 minutes, and my life went to hell.”

He frowned, gaze lingering on your stained dress.

“What happened to you?”

You shook your head.

“N-not here. Please. I’ll tell you everything when we-.”

“I think you’ll tell me now,” he quietly spat.

His hand tightened on yours, and you winced.

“Killian…”

Distress filled you when he pulled off to the side of the road, and you heaved a sigh.

“Killian, we can’t stop. We-.”

“Not until you tell me what happened to you. I think I have a right to know,” he hissed turning to face you.

He didn’t have a right to know anything, but you had to play along if you wanted him to get you out of town. You played with his fingers, mind spinning as you wondered how you would spin this. If you told him the truth, that you’d been kidnapped, he’d most definitely take it to the police, and that was out of the question.

Apparently, you were taking too long, and your eyes widened when he gripped your chin, hard. His intense gaze bore into your own, and you swallowed. His nostrils flared, grip tightening on your chin before he took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm himself. He let you go and reached for you with both hands, pausing before finally letting them drop to your shoulders. He rubbed them in what you were sure was meant to be a calming manner, but the firmness suggested otherwise.

“Honey…just tell me what happened to you. Did someone hurt you? Were you drunk? Did you maybe hurt someone…?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

“If you hurt someone, I’ll handle it. I’ll handle anything to keep you out of trouble as long as things go back to the way they were.”

He eyed you, and you wondered if you should just tell him the truth. You needed to get back on the road immediately, but you didn’t know if Killian’s money was enough against someone who was the law.

“Tell me what it is so I can take care of it, and then we can go back to what we used to be,” he quietly said.

“I was-.”

You cut yourself off when lights flashed behind you. Your heart dropped to your stomach as Killian looked over his shoulder, and you felt like you were going to be sick when you followed his gaze. A police cruiser was behind the car, the lights flashing, and you gasped.

“Perfect,” you heard Killian mumble.

You reached for him, and he looked at you.

“Killian, we have to go.”

He looked at you as if you were crazy.

“I’m not going to just drive off. It’s probably nothing, anyway,” he waved you off.

In the rearview mirror, you could see none other than Officer Barnes exit the car, and you felt yourself get lightheaded. Your hand tightened on Killian’s arm, heart feeling like it was going to jump out of your chest.

“Killian…please. Press the gas,” you quietly pleaded. “They’ll recognize me.”

“Keep your head down,” he ordered.

“Killian-.”

“Enough,” he snarled, glaring at you. “It’s bad enough that I’ve been wandering all over the south looking for you. Do as I say and keep your head down.”

He turned towards the window just as the dark-haired cop approached the door. You laid your other hand on the door handle, fresh tears kissing your eyes. You heard Killian greet him, and you heard Bucky ask for his license and registration.

This wasn’t right.

You knew it wasn’t right. Bucky hadn’t even told Killian the reason for this, but Killian being Killian, his ego and money going to his head, didn’t question it. It didn’t occur to him that this was strange. You glanced up just as Bucky lowered his head a bit, and you quickly turned and looked out of your window.

You sat up when another cruiser slowly pulled up behind Bucky’s, eyes focused on the passenger side mirror as it parked. You were shaking now, and your fingers dug into Killian’s arm. He hissed and shook it off, throwing you a quick glare before turning back to Bucky. You watched as Bucky walked back to the car, and you looked at Killian.

“Killian, these cops can’t be trusted,” you finally told him. “They’ve been terrorizing me.”

You suspected that he may have doubted you, but you could see that he believed you when he ran his eyes over your features. His frown deepened, face hardening as you looked between him and the cop cars. He followed your gaze and finally seemed to notice the other car.

“Very well. I will get their names and badge numbers and we’ll be on our way,” he told you.

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head.

“N-no. No! We need to leave, now while we can. You don’t know what they’re capable of,” you pleaded with him.

You saw that he was going to argue with you again, but he paused when more tears spilled over and you clung to him.

“Please,” you tearfully whispered.

You shook when you saw Bucky walking back to the car, and Killian rolled the window back down as he approached. You didn’t even have time to scream before blood hit you, landing on your face and painting the inside of the car.

You had maybe 2 seconds to sit in shock and horror before scrambling to roll the window back up. Bucky’s fist flew against it, and he cursed as you locked the door. Killian’s body was slumped in his seat, and you felt your stomach churn as you wondered how you were going to drive away. You were attempting to force yourself into the seat when you looked up and came face to face with the barrel of Bucky’s gun through the window.

“Step out of the car, doll.”

You looked through the back windshield, and your stomach dropped when you watched Officer Wilson step out of the second car. The passenger door opened, and you were on the verge of passing out at the sight of a familiar build and familiar blond hair.

You were trapped.

“Don’t make me shoot,” you heard Bucky say.

You swallowed, looking back to him. You now knew that he was capable of murder, just like Steve, but was he capable of murdering you? Had you not been aware of Steve’s intentions, you might have believed so, but you knew that Steve wanted you alive.

Steve and Sam were almost to your car now, and your mind raced. Your eyes slowly met Bucky’s as you forced yourself into the driver’s seat as best as you could. He tightened his hold on the gun, eyes narrowing at you as you gripped the wheel with one hand, the other on the gearshift.

You were calling his bluff.

You moved the car into drive and pressed the gas. You winced when a gunshot rang out and one of the tires blew. Two more joined the one and tears blurred your vision as you fought to keep the car in control. You could no longer do that when pain flared in your right shoulder, and you screamed, eyes squeezing shut as the car swerved into the ditch.

It rolled to a stop as you clutched your shoulder, blood seeping through your fingers. You whimpered, gasping as you pulled yourself into the backseat just as Bucky came to the window. Sam appeared at the right backseat window while a third figure cast a shadow on your left.

Your tearful eyes met Steve’s cold ones as he bent down, and your lip trembled, biting your tongue to swallow down the pain. His eyes drifted to your shoulder, and you knew then that he was the one who’d shot you.

“Y/N.”

Fear gripped you at the sound of his voice.

“…get out of the car.”

More tears fell, and you looked around for anything to help you.

“You have nowhere to go. It’s over, sweetheart.”

You hung your head, pressing your hand to your shoulder as sobs wracked your frame.

“Come out of the car, and I won’t put you in the basement…”

You looked up at that, your eyes meeting his again, and your throat bobbed at the thought of being locked down there. You were sure that Steve could see the fear in your eyes, and his own seemed to soften. You could feel yourself getting woozy, and you looked at the blood that stained your arm and hand.

You had to be smart about this. He was right. You had nowhere to go. In this car, you were fighting a losing battle, and if you ended up in the basement, then you would truly lose. There was no chance of you ever escaping from there.

You shakily took your hand off of your shoulder, wincing as you did so, and slowly put your hand on the lock. You blinked, eyelashes fluttering as you fought to stay conscious. You looked up at Steve again, brows furrowed, and he tilted his head at you.

“You come out on your own, and I won’t put you down there,” he repeated.

It took everything in you to flip the lock, and as soon as the click sounded through the air, Steve was ripping the door open. You screamed when his hand tangled in your hair, scalp burning as he dragged you out and threw you on the ground.

You coughed when your back harshly met the earth’s surface, and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his hand was bandaged up, thumb seemingly reattached. In the short time you had noticed that, his good hand had wrapped around your throat.

Your hands wrapped around his arm, eyes wide and tearful as they stared into his own venomous gaze. He was shaking as he choked you, eyes filled with so much anger that it finally hit you what was happening.

Steve was killing you.

You sobbed, kicking and hitting at him, chest tightening as you struggled to breathe. His arm flexed with the intensity behind his assault, and you watched as his jaw ticked, eyes clouded over.

“Steve,” you heard Sam call. “You don’t want to do this, Steve.”

His nostrils flared when Sam called him again, and with a defeated snarl, he ripped himself away from you. You gasped for breath, fighting to clear your vision as he yanked you up with him. He pinned you to Killian’s car, fire in his eyes.

“You’re lucky that you can give me what I want. Lucky that I’m willing to let you live,” he hissed.

You yelped when he pressed his hand into your wounded shoulder, vision blurring. Steve pressed his lips to your cheek as his hand slid up to your hair, pulling at the root with a tight grip.

“They do say 3rd time’s the charm.”

He pulled your head away from the car before slamming it against it, and you felt yourself drop.

When you came to, it was dark outside. That much you could see from the window when you turned your head. You realized that you were in the first room you’d woken up in weeks ago when you were first brought here. You were relieved to see that Steve had kept his word, but your relief was short lived.

When you moved, your movements felt sluggish. You felt like you were being weighed down and worry filled you. Before you had any more time to dwell on it, the door opened, and you slowly turned your head to watch Steve as he stepped inside.

He had something in his hand.

Even when he turned on the lamp, you couldn’t see what it was. Your eyes were drawn to his bandaged hand, and he followed your gaze, a less than humorous smirk gracing his lips.

“Tony sewed it back on,” he said, and you were reminded of the police chief. “He did a pretty shotty job, but I suppose I can’t complain.”

You whimpered when he sat down beside you, groaning when he reached to inspect your shoulder. You hadn’t even realized that it had been tended to.

“I have to say…you keep surprising me,” he told you.

Your lashes fluttered, and he stroked your cheek.

“I knew you’d keep me on my toes, but you’ve surpassed my expectations,” he hummed.

You finally saw what he had, and your heart raced as your eyes landed on the syringe.

“Steve,” you croaked.

“I meant it when I said I wasn’t going to put you in the basement…but that was because I had every intention of killing you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at that, and he threw you a crooked smile.

“Sam had to remind me that I want you. Hmph. That’s how angry I was, you know. That I had to be reminded why I took you in the first place,” he whispered, grabbing your arm.

Tears kissed your eyes, and he shushed you as he stuck the needle in your arm.

“This is just going to keep you calm…sedated for a while.”

You hissed, shaking your head.

“This is the only way I can keep you from running…at least for a while, without putting you down there. I want to show you that you can trust me. That’s the only way this will work. You ran because you couldn’t trust me, I get it.”

You glared at him, already feeling even more tired.

“I ran because I don’t want to be here,” you managed to sneer.

He smirked at you, leaning over to kiss your forehead as sleep threatened to take you again.

“You will.”

“Steve,” you sobbed, and he shushed you again.

His hand stroked your face, and he pressed more kisses to your forehead and then your cheek and your nose. His lips finally brushed over yours.

“I’m determined to make this work, and I won’t stop until we’re one big happy family.”

~

tags:  @xoxabs88xox​  @darkficreposter​   @mcudarklibrary​ @captainchrisstan​ @nickyl316h​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​ @harryspet​ @readermia​ @sebabestianstan101​ @villanellevi​ @opheliadawnwalker3 @notyourtypicalrose​ @coconutqueen21​  @stargazingfangirl18​   @lou-la-lou​ @izzfizzh​ @thatgirly81​ @autty0314​​ @hinata7346​ @lokislastlove​​ @honorarytenenbaum​​ @void-hoechlin​​  @autty0314​​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @hurricanerin​ @jack-skellingtons-stuff​ @collette04​ @wandascarlett​ @simonedk​ 

#dark fic #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #cop!steve #cop au #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader

[dragonflymage]

This question stewed around in my head for a few weeks. I’ve been trying to figure out how to explain in words what goes on with me when I’m internally gauging and judging a person to see if they feel safe or not. It’s an unseen process and works with slight differences depending on if the person is communicating with me via a screen or standing before me.

That said, I’ll add that most of my process involves instinct and past experiences. There’s a way that people speak that helps to reveal it for me.

For instance, let’s say I’ve just met someone in person and we’re in the introduction stage. I’ve noticed that most people I encounter don’t appear to be an internal thinking sort. They rely mainly on their outer senses to process information. So this might mean that if they aren’t given anything, then they have little to process. (?)

As a result, the person introducing themselves to me may assume I am the same and will give me what I like to think of as their “verbal life profile”. This will include a nice snapshot of who they are and what their life may be about. What they might not realize is that it also includes an entire slew of unspoken informational tidbits that my mind, empathy, and instincts are happily absorbing and crunching on.

I’m a fairly private person so I won’t give much of myself in return. I’ll encourage them to keep talking by asking questions about a story they’ve shared. This is where the “genuine” begins to happen - how they respond and react from this point onward.

It can take so many different paths. Here are a few examples.

💛 They could be happy that someone is listening, gently revealing within their tone of voice and expressions that “it’s been so long since someone has really listened to me”. If I recognize this response, I will feel an emotional reaction to this change in them and I’ll gently nudge and encourage even more, possibly adding some outward emotional expression that they can interpret from me. I see this as a genuine person.

💛 They could reveal to me from their words and tone of voice that all they wish is for someone to see how great and wonderful they are. Each sentence begins to sound like a self-competition, where only they can be the winner. I accept this is also a way to share a quick life-profile, by getting out all their best accomplishments as quickly as possible. Yet it does reveal so much, just in this act alone. Usually, I’ve found this type of person won’t necessarily want to hear what I have to say about myself, especially if it seems to them I’m trying to somehow be competitive with my own accomplishments. I may not see this person as genuine, because I’ll wonder what it is they are trying to hide with all this greatness and self-importance.

💛 There is also a person similar to the above, but instead of talking solely about themselves, they are trying to create interaction. They are sharing good and not-so-good stories about themselves. I used to distrust this sort of person but learned more with time. If I listen very closely I’ve found several deeper threads rise and fall near the surface. They could be testing the waters with me because they’ve been burned by someone in the past. “Will I be judged?” My responses vary according to the individual, but I will try to show my acceptance in some fashion, maybe by smiling or some other appropriate external emotion. This person may be partially genuine, but won’t become fully genuine until they know me better. Which is fair.

💛 There is the person who, to me, is so obviously deceitful, that every word uttered is just another layer of dirty frosting to cover their hollow cupcake. I feel immediate annoyance from the moment they start speaking that will grow into anger by the time they are quiet. My mind is screaming “Lies!” And I will probably nod and say “uh-huh” before thinking up an excuse to escape. This person is not genuine.

💛 There is the person that even before their mouth is open, I just know something isn’t right. There’s an ‘air’ about them. I don’t know how to explain how I know. Maybe it’s in their walk, or how they gesture with their hands or blink their eyes. But something will ping my spidey-sense and I’m in full alert mode. If I haven’t tried to retreat from their presence and we end up conversing, I may learn more on the reason why or I’ll just end up further trusting my instinct because the ‘creeper vibe’ is in full bloom. This person is not only not genuine, but possibly something a little dangerous. Next!

💛 Sociopaths/Psychopaths. I have to include this here because sometimes a person with antisocial personality disorder has a way of initially sneaking around my instinctive radar. There is some sort of void that causes static with my internal senses, which forces me to rely on external cues to figure them out. And externally they can appear quite genuine and friendly. Not just charming, but they appear to care. Especially one who is mature. If I’m around one long enough though, I can eventually sense what’s going on. I can see through the external and peek into the void and know it’s time to walk away. This person is genuine and also not genuine for who they are, but ultimately not genuine enough for me.

I hope I was able to explain some of the processes behind how I can determine if someone is genuine or not. It isn’t very easy to describe because it mostly involves emotion and instinct. 💗

Thanks for the question. 😊

#infp #infp thoughts #mbti #mbti thoughts #myers-briggs #introvert #hsp #emotions #emotional #sensitivity #mbti infp

[ampleappleamble]

—

As soon as their party had crossed the threshold of the city proper, they'd turned to a local rabblerouser for directions, inquiring about points of interest and general information about the city. He'd filled them in while still trying to hold court with the group of refugees and protesters crowded around him, adding in fiery criticisms of animancy and the local constabulary, and as soon as the opportunity to escape had presented itself the little band of adventurers had beelined for the nearest tavern, a busy little neighborhood eatery and inn called the Goose and Fox.

Bit strange, that name. Sounds kind of predatory for a house of respite. Sagani glanced down at her own fox, and then chuckled to herself, shaking her head. ...Alright, maybe I'm looking a little too hard into this.

She noticed Axa looking at her quizzically, so she leaned over and murmured: "Here, stop me if you've heard this one: An orlan, a dwarf, a folk, an elf, an aumaua, and an arctic fox walk into a bar..."

"The bartender looks at them and says, 'What is this, a joke?'" Axa quipped back, not missing a beat. It was a punchline from a different bit, catching Sagani off guard, and both women laughed loudly enough to draw attention. In particular, that of a sour-faced elf with a rag draped over his shoulder who frowned and pointed at Itumaak, shaking his finger as he scurried out from behind the bar.

"Hey, hey, c'mon now, ladies, no loose animals in the dining area– Is that a dog, or...? Either way, tie it up outside, please. This isn't the Salty Mast." He spat the last few words from his mouth like a foul-tasting venom and turned to resume his duties, only to find himself nose-to-chest with Edér.

"He's an arctic fox, actually," the large man drawled softly, his tone hovering between casual and threatening. "And he goes where we go. ...'Sides, he's clean, and he don't make no trouble. Not 'less there's trouble with us. Which there ain't. Right?" He smiled amicably, looming over the sweaty little man as Axa stepped forward to intercede and the rest of her crew discreetly slid into a corner table.

The two of them returned shortly, followed by a husky orlan barmaid loaded down with stew and brew for the party of five, plus a little something for Itumaak. They talked while they ate: planning, mostly, about what to do with the rest of the evening and the days to come. The Hall of Revealed Mysteries, temple to Wael and the largest library in the Dyrwood, was a high-priority destination, as was the Ducal Palace in First Fires, for the war records Edér was after. And, of course, eventually they'd have to head for the western gates to escort Sagani to the cliffs where she might meet Persoq.

Even though your initial offer wasn't an escort to the cliffs. Only to the city. Sagani smirked as she considered the implications and nursed her tankard. You that eager to prove you're really a Watcher? Or are you just hoping to keep me on as a hireling you don't have to pay? She watched them eat and talk and drink and laugh, and when the orlan caught her staring, she smiled and offered the huntress a toke from her pipe.

...Frost's sake, Sagani, she thought as she politely waved the proffered whiteleaf away, maybe she's just nice.

She was pleasantly buzzed and half-listening to Aloth and Kana argue about whether to visit the asylum in Brackenbury when she noticed that Axa's attention had drifted as well– to the folk woman at the table nearest the back wall, the one who kept her face out of the lamplight and stared grimly into her ale.

Sagani nudged Axa, indicated the woman with a nod of her head. "You know her?"

"No." The redhead rose from her seat, wiping her mouth and knitting her brow. "But I know that look." She spared a glance at the lads– Edér, his eyes shut, blissfully gnawing on a hunk of beef; Kana and Aloth still wrapped up in the discourse on animancers in the Dyrwood– before striding purposefully towards the solitary woman, Sagani close behind.

It took some coaxing, but they got her talking. She told them her name was Kaenra, and that her fiancé had recently struck up a close friendship with svef, had started bringing strange, unsavory people around to the house to use. That he'd become distant, and then violent, and that all she wanted from him now was for him to take his grandmother's ring back and fuck off out of her life. Sagani watched as Axa listened, watched as she bristled with righteous rage, her eyes lingering on the woman's fresh bruise as she squeezed the ring tightly in her fist.

"I'll make sure he gets it," she vowed.

And so it came to pass that Sagani found herself spending her first evening as a tourist in Defiance Bay firing off arrows in a stranger's kitchen and siccing Itumaak on the drug-addled thugs in the study. Judging from the reactions of the rest of her retinue, apparently this sort of thing wasn't exactly out of the ordinary for Axa: the girl had a thirst for justice, it seemed, and she damn well meant to slake it.

Before long, they were all standing above the cowering, bloodied homeowner, a man called Purnisc who struggled to explain himself to Axa's satisfaction. Turns out he had been dealing svef, too, and when his supplier had found out that he'd been pocketing more than his fair share of the profits–

"–they sent the kneebreakers downstairs," Sagani finished for him, "and the wizard to replace you. Literally." She shook her head in wonder. It really was just like one of her Vailian crime novels.

"Replacement wasn't much of an improvement on the original." The little redhead was steaming mad, and she made no move to hide it as she leaned over the battered man, finger in his face. "You silly bastard, you really thought you could steal from a professional criminal, and lie to your woman about it, and you're just so gods damned clever that no one could ever possibly be the wiser?"

The man's blacked, swollen eyes went as wide as they were able. "You... you've talked to my Kaenra? Is she alright? Sh-she doesn't know I was selling, does she? Oh, gods, please don't tell her. I'm so sorry for putting her through all this. Please don't–"

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Axa's roar came shrill and piercing, her typical rich, smooth voice consumed in the fire of her outrage. "Kaenra sent us here to return your ring because of your lies, you crooked little shit-for-brains! She loves and respects you! And you'd have us lie to her again?"

The pathetic man had withered under the orlan's verbal assault, and Axa seemed to have made her mind up about him as the group marched solemnly back to the Goose and Fox. But after returning to Kaenra, after telling her what Purnisc had done, the little woman once again defied all reasonable expectations.

"He's just an idiot, not a monster," Axa assured the other woman, "and he still loves you. And although he did a damned foolish thing, he never meant to hurt you. You just need to decide for yourself whether he's worth a second chance." Her violet eyes shone with tears as she spoke, Purnisc's ring on the table next to the women's clasped hands.

And when Kaenra said she’d think about it, that was the first time Sagani had really started to believe in the Watcher of Caed Nua.

—

#pillars of eternity #poe anthem infinitum #okay maybe only one more big bit like this #...i'm overthinking this bit and wondering if i still like it #or if i should basically redo it #but! i always post first drafts here very soon after finishing them #so! this'll probably just get edited a lil bit in the end

[funeral-clown]

For @demibuckybarnes. Happy Birthday!

Emmett sighed in a deep, happy breath. Then he did it again. Then, with a faint air of hedonism, one more time. Just to enjoy it. The sweet and heavy pull of air in and out unimpeded by anything else. Fresh air was always worth savoring, even so long after leaving home.

The stars swirled and twinkled above him like a bright canvas. He was laid back and glancing upwards, reclined on the roof of the food truck with one arm laying behind his head and the other resting comfortably on his gut. It had been a dull day, which the faint tugging on the back of his mind said was a reprieve. Something was building, to be sure. Probably be a run in with one of the others of the brood soon. Emmett sighed again, this time slightly less happily. But only slightly.

“Whatcha doin’, big guy?”

Ash’s head poked over the edge of the roof, grinning. His feet balanced precariously on the edge of the doorway as he crossed his arms on the roof for balance and nestled his chin in.

Emmett’s eyes slid from the stars to his driver, who under the street lights illuminating the parking lot they were spending the night in glowed in a star like fashion himself. His peroxide hair flew about his face like a cornet, or a halo, or some other sappy metaphor Emmett was privately embarrassed to consider.

“Y’r hair’s in y’r face again.”

Ash laughed.

“It does what it wants.”

Emmett nodded.

“ ‘S nice.”

Tired of being left out, Ash clambered up onto the roof himself, knees and elbows banging about in a comedic fashion. Half on top of Emmett, he grinned and nestled in closer.

“Cold?”

Emmett huffed amiably, taking the arm from his stomach and wrapping it around the other man. Ash hummed happily and squirmed closer.

“We haven’t seen the others in a while, huh?”

Emmett, with some effort, shrugged.

“Was thinkin’ so myself. Might be a run in soon. Which ones ya figure?”

Ash hummed thoughtfully. He was always the better one when it came to guessing who might be coming. Or, more accurately, who they might be going to.

“Don’t know,” he said finally. Emmett nodded.

“Who ya want it to be?”

Ash’s teeth glittered in the dark.

“Who’d’ya think, babe?”

Emmett nodded again, slower, considering.

“Should probably set up something good tomorrow. Lotta meat and veggies and carbs. Maybe a stew.”

Ash raised an eyebrow.

“Cooking for us?”

Emmett stretched out a bit more before settling again.

“For her. Don’t think she gets enough nutrition, hanging around them all the time. Forget to feed her more than beer and junk.”

Ash propped himself up, excited.

“You think it’s really gonna be them?”

Emmett smiled.

“I think I’m gonna be ready if it is.”

Ash whooped loudly.

-

Martin stopped, physically, verbally, and the car. The Oh No Mobile whined in protest before quieting again to see what would happen. He sucked in a lungful of air through his teeth. The others froze and stared at him, waiting. Amanda looked up from her nails, a new streak of bright purple polish slashed down her knuckles.

She raised an eyebrow at Cross, who grinned at her in a manner that would make anyone else quite nervous, but nevertheless gave her comfort. Vogel jostled into her excitedly, like an eager puppy trying to make her smile. Despite herself, she did.

“We’re pullin’ over.”

“Why?”

Martin reached back and patted her knee, eyes meeting hers in the rear-view mirror.

“Good a place as any.”

Amanda shrugged, busting through the doors with the rest of the boys, yelling loudly and taking stock of the location. It seemed to be some sort of highway rest stop, scattered picnic tables and the odd pavilion scattered around a hill. A squat stone hutch with bathrooms was pressed against the edge of a corner. The few people in the park seemed faintly alarmed, in the tired manner of those who have been driving too long to particularly care about howling strangers yelling around. A young nervous looking couple edged towards their own vehicle, and a group of bleary eyed bikers looked up from their sandwiches in idle curiosity.

With great pomp, Martin sat himself on top of one of the wooden benches and glared around him. The others flocked to it, under a pine tree and on the edge of the encroaching woods. Gripps lit a blunt and handed it to Cross. Vogel climbed the tree. Amanda breathed in deeply. As much as she loved her boys, 5 people in one van could get a little crowded. Cross offered her a hit, only to be rebuffed.

“What’re we waitin’ for?”

Martin shrugged, laying back on the table lazily. He seemed uncharacteristically at ease. The low rumble of passing cars filled the artificial clearing. There was a squeal of resistance as a large van pulled in to the park. With a loud cry, Ash hopped out of the drivers’ seat and ran to tackle Amanda, who rose to greet him in turn.

“Manda!”

“Ash! Holy shit, you’re here!”

“I’m here! YOU’RE here!”

“We’re here!”

“I think,” Emmett drawled as he made his way over, “We can all agree that we’re here.”

Ash gave his shoulder a friendly shrug.

“Don’t be an asshole, babe.”

Emmett tried to look appalled. He didn’t try very hard.

“You bring snacks?” Vogel called from the top of the tree.

“Depends. Snacks for who?”

“Me, dude!”

Emmett laughed.

“Nobody with us but us. But I got little, uh, whatchamacallits. Little. Fuckin. Petit fours.”

He blew a loud raspberry, but Gripps looked up in interest. Amanda came over to lean against Emmett, a small brush of contact, like a cat gently re-establishing friendship. He ruffled her hair.

“Got plenty eats for this one though. Needs more than fuckin knocked over McDonalds’.”

Amanda lit up like an electric fireplace.

“Fuck yes, dude! I’ve been WANTING something real!”

Emmett reddened slightly, pleased.

“ ‘S nothin’ much t’all. Plenty to get boxed up and take with.”

One of the bikers had begun to nonchalantly amble by, in the manner of the eternally nosy.

“Excuse me,” she called, “Are you some kinda. Food truck or something? Because I’ll not lie, we’re sick as dogs of road sandwiches.”

Emmett scratched at the side of his head, rumbling in his chest with unspoken musing.

“Yeah, alright. Y’all better like gumbo.”

Her eyes widened.

“I’ve been craving gumbo for weeks!”

“Yeah,” he muttered, “That sounds about right.”

Amanda ducked under his arm and wrapped an arm around his waist, then threw her other over Ash’s shoulders, walking them to the truck.

“I missed you, boys.”

“I missed you too! I mean this guy is GREAT but sometimes it’s nice to talk to someone who knows what Harry Potter is.”

Emmett looked over his shoulder back at Martin, who shrugged.

Ash rolled his eyes.

“I love these guys, they’re always a good time, but Amanda, you are my salvation. I love that you’ve taken the polish off the nail. VERY avant-garde.”

Amanda threw her head back and laughed. Emmett slipped her grasp and opened up the service window of the food truck.

“Open for business,” he called.

-

After everyone was fed and were laying out on the grass, Emmett sat next to Martin.

“Seen Bart lately?”

Martin shook his head.

“Seen English?”

Emmett hummed.

“Few months back. Sayin’ somethin’ bout. Atlantis?”

Martin scoffed.

“That sounds like him. How bout any of the others?”

Emmett lay back.

“Drift in and out. Thought I saw Priest for a hot second in Arizona.”

Martin grimaced, half a snarl caught in his throat on instinct.

“Only thought?”

“Only thought.”

Martin nodded.

“Told your boy yet?”

Emmett shook his head.

“Still safer not knowing.”

He frowned.

“Never gonna understand that. Not sharing. Told ours the second we got her.”

“How long till Blackwing got their hands on her?”

There was a telling pause.

“Besides,” Emmett continued with a forced levity, “If I didn’t share, I wouldn’t bring y’all treats.”

Meanwhile, Ash and Amanda were sitting in the grass doing a braid train with Cross and Gripps at the ends. Vogel had come down long enough to smear his face with chocolate, and was starting to build a fire in one of the camp grills. He eyed the weathered picnic tables in consideration. Amanda whistled for his attention, then pointed without judgement at the forest full of sticks. He sent a happy thumbs up.

“Good family reunion.”

“Ain’t bad.”

“Sorry your sister didn’t make this one.”

“Balances out. Her brother didn’t either.”

Martin’s laugh was a hoarse thing. Ash looked up to see what was causing it, then beamed when he saw Emmett talking to him.

“Stop moving,” Gripps whined. “You’re worse than Vogel. Gonna tangle your hair, dude!”

Still laughing, Ash settled down, glancing forward at what his own hands were doing to Amanda’s hair, tucking the strands of hair together. Ahead of her, Amanda wove a dozen tiny braids in Cross’s hair, sticking out around his head like a scarecrow’s straw.He idly pulled at the grass, braiding it himself. VOgel whined, bored and not wanting to be let out. Cross wordlessly handed him braided sticks of grass to burn.

Somewhere in the woods, a man and a woman were burying a body. Somewhere else, two men drove on searching for a beat up van, binoculars laying on the back seat. Somewhere even farther away, two men and a woman where running away from a giant demented fish man waving a trident. Somewhere else entirely, a man vaguely longed for a cup of tea.

The Universe was running smoothly. 

Emmett lie back in the grass, looking up at the oncoming twilight, and took in a deep breath. Smiling slightly, he closed his eyes and, with a faint air of hedonism, did so again slowly.

[jimmymcgools]

Jimmy landing in ABQ to the shared smoke at the beginning of ACB chapter 14 for the ask meme. I just want the entirety of 14 annotated...

❤️❤️❤️🛬🛬🛬🚬🚬🚬 my pleasure!! 

fic commentary meme and my answers

i think i mentioned it somewhere once, but for a few days i was planning to open this chapter with the parking garage scene. i was worried i had too many chapters in a row of jimmy arriving places, or otherwise slow starts, and i thought -- hell let’s just hit the ground running. 

but anyway i was wrong, and it definitely needed this softer opening. 

actually, maybe this is kinda the perfect time (and the perfect chapter, since it’s a favourite) to share some more of my planning process for acb? here goes, time for a deep dive. 

i usually have very loose ideas for future scenes up at the bottom of the doc i’m writing in, so that i can scroll down and check. here’s what i had at the bottom of chapter 7: 

the “holiday party sex?” question hangs out there complete with “hm” for ages. by chapter 9 i’ve started to add more pieces that’ll end up in chapter 14, in among other stuff that i used for different chapters: 

WILD>

here’s how the “hm” is shaping up by chapter 11:

then by chapter 12 i’m starting to group it into chapters:

and then by the time i start writing chapter 14 i move all these little notes up to the top of my document and hope for the best:

(i was very worried about forgetting the fireworks)

ok! on to the actual scene 😂

Below, the desert is mottled by the shadows of clouds, bruised in dark blue.

i was really happy when some footage of landing in abq reminded me of cloud shadows, and then i realised i’d been listening to “cloud shadow on the mountain” by wolf parade on a loop for an hour and somehow hadn’t clicked. 

if he watched for long enough, he would start to see patterns in the cloud shadows, too: animals and countries and people he’s known. 

jimmy-looking-for-patterns is a returns a lot in this chapter specifically. 

... marking out developments and suburbs that will soon rise in the same invisible style as the rest of the city. New houses waiting to be filled with new people. 

a real contrast from cicero, with its foreclosed houses and bulldozed factories and vacant lots. i wanted jimmy to feel warmer toward abq as he arrives this time than he did in chapter one. he’s thinking about how buildings fit in with the place, etc, and then at the end of this section the comparison of the airport to a harbor. 

Jimmy tries to find his apartment building all the same, tries to lay the colorful lines of the bus map onto the terrain beneath him.

he still has trouble fitting himself into it, though. 

—and his mother had hugged him on the stoop that morning, his cab idling in the street, and she had felt so small in his arms until she had let him go, and then, as Jimmy slid into the backseat of the taxi she had turned, closing the door— 

trying to set up this tug of jimmy’s thoughts pulling him back to cicero, like he hasn’t managed to shake off the visit yet. there’s a new kind of discomfort in him here, i hope, different from the discomfort felt by jimmy in chapter 1. going back home kinda kicks him out of the rut he’s been in since they got back from white sands. like he’s not sure if this whole dumb exercise in being a button-up wearing mailroom lackey is even worth it. 

“It’s not too late, you know,” he says. “We could go back to mine instead, maybe watch a movie, maybe…” He wiggles his eyebrows. 

we left kim and jimmy after that phone call having opened up a bit. jimmy stays in cicero through to the weekend (do i say this anywhere? i guess maybe i don’t!) so i always figured they had more calls after that first one (👀).

but i wanted to show them settling back into this more openly flirty relationship... 

“Looks good, by the way,” Kim says. Kim brushes his hand with hers as she finally takes the cigarette from him, and he tugs his gaze back up to her face. She grins at him. “I just hope nobody remembers I wore it last year, too,” she says. 

... and back to casual touching, too. also kim clocking jimmy checking her out and smiling. it’s the kind of flirty game that he definitely enjoyed earlier in the relationship. but just like he doesn’t know where he stands with living in abq, he still doesn’t know where he stands with kim, and that’s all brewing away. i wanted it less that he’s angry from the top of this chapter, and more that he has all the ingredients for the perfect angry stew. dancing around their “not in abq” thing, but now with added “i mean, i do WANT to sleep with you” on top? great

There’s a beat of silence. “Yeah, maybe I’ll pitch it to Howard,” Jimmy says bitterly.  

folding this little plot back in. i’ve always struggled with dialogue but i think writing this fic has really helped, and reading over this conversation for the first time in ages i’m kinda proud of how much exposition i’ve managed to get in here while keeping it pretty natural, and how many little non verbal cues there are that shift the conversation (that always feels very bcs to me). 

Kim reaches out and brushes a fleck of ash from his shirt breast silently,

because i couldn’t resist!!! kim dusting jimmy 24/7. 

“Sounds like they could get lost in the sky.” She holds up a hand and looks at it studiously for a moment, then returns her gaze to him. “You know, hard to see.” 

kim using the one piece of information she knows about the new HHM billboards to mock them, what a legend. kim-in-jimmy’s-corner from the top of the chapter, here, before they even head up to the party.  

“I’ve heard there’s a perfectly lockable supply cupboard somewhere in the mailroom.” Kim laughs. “Rumors and hearsay,” she says lightly.

(stolen dialogue from the show for kim, here) with this exchange i wanted to make sure you could tell these guys were comfortable with each other and comfortable acknowledging the phone sex fantasy in specific terms, even if kim dismisses the suggestion of turning it into anything more. 

Go schmooze with your future lawyer friends.

nailed it jimmy, not bitter at ALL

He grits his teeth at stares at the darkness, at the long shadows of the pillars, at the curved shadows of the lined-up cars, seeing patterns in the shapes of them. 

i always imagine he’s looking in the same direction that he watched her walk away in in chapter 2. 

and more jimmy looking for patterns. then later in the chapter i link it with the idea of kid jimmy watching the shadows of grown-ups and wanting to be in their world. so this jimmy-watching-shadows is him as an outsider trying to figure out how to fit in, but more specifically trying to figure out these places that feel above him (abq, hhm, adults to a child)

♥♥♥♥ ty for asking! 

#commentary ask meme #queenofnots #mcwexler #a controlled burn #asks

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

One Day At A Time - Jensen x Reader

A/N: Part Two! As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block. 

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Widower!Jensen. Grieving process. Age Gap. Character pregnancy. Unrequited feelings. I believe that is all.

Word Count: Roughly 3,200

“Jared!” You screeched just in time to find your body thrown in the air. You didn't let go, tugging the large, heavy weight in after you. The water rushed around your form. Cradling your fall. An angry cry left your lips as you surfaced. Glaring at your friend as he shook out his shaggy, dark hair. “You're such a shit.”

The sound of kids shouting out their own war cries sounded before they followed. The noise was enough to diffuse the mini war for a moment. They were careening their bodies into the water one at a time. Six cannonballs of various sizes.

“Teach you to sass,” He cackled, wincing every so slightly as you splashed at him in mock outrage. You dodged Shep as you bolted away from him; kicking your feet hard enough that Jared couldn't see well enough to dive at you until you had some distance between your bodies.

“Gen!” Before you could bring his wife into the mix, you were tackled again. Losing your shout in the liquid. Jared's unnatural length had given him the advantage. Again.

“They're going to kill each other,” Jensen muttered to Genevieve at the grill. Watching the scene from the corner of his eye. He'd refused to bet on who would come out on top. Both of you were too determined to end the mutual torture amicably.

“The kids will break it up before it gets there.” She answered with a grin as she watched your leg hook Jared's. The towering height was a disadvantage for the first time as you yanked the limb upwards with your entire strength. It slowed him down. His arms couldn't quite reach you before you threw him off balance. Crashing his bulk backwards. Creating waves that all six kids rode out. The high pitched betting on who would be winner making the brow rise towards his friend's wife. “Or maybe not,” The devilish smile on her love's face made her tsk in shame.

The hiatus-bearded forty four year old beside her stopped watching the meat for a moment. Focusing on his best friend and his nanny. You had promised yourself wouldn't leave. It had been just over two years since Danneel had passed away, and you'd kept your word.

For not knowing how to care for other people full time, you'd figured it out in a hurry. Ouchies were bandaged. Homework was helped. Food was prepared just in time for everyone to slink out of the rooms. You'd gone above and beyond. Taking up a housekeeper role, even. No one could have asked for a better person to fill what had been needed.

“He takes her out? He has kid duty.” Jensen warned; his own grin covered as he took a swig of his beer to compose himself. A recent habit he'd invested in when it came to anything involving you. Too many people found themselves asking questions. He didn't want to answer them.

“Fair enough,” She shrugged as she watched Jared toss you like you were a rag doll. “Overgrown children. The both of them.”

“Keeps life a little interesting,” He acknowledged easily. It really had. Helped keep it all lighthearted when things were anything but. It'd helped him survive the worst thing he'd ever experienced. “They're too busy pranking each other to turn their wiles on us, nowadays.” That brought up Gen's brow.

“She's given you wiles, huh?” Her own drink was brought to her lips to keep her face as neutral as could as she watched her friend turn the deadly chromatic gaze her way. Looking for a sign that would tell him to keep his mouth shut. He didn't find anything. Being in the acting business had its perks, and cons, when it came to their friendship.

“She's decided that I'm too serious, lately,” He grumbled. Finger quotes and all. Pulling on the years of playing Dean Winchester for a way to express his displeasure with adequate emphasis. He'd long ago accepted that the Winchester would pop his head up whenever he needed him to. Almost eighteen years on the job did that to a man. “She gets the kids in on the plots. Got Jared in on a few before they turned on each other.”

Jared had eagerly adopted a new victim in his favorite sport. Jensen had lost the urge to get down and dirty years ago. After an incident that may, or may not have, involved stink bombs in a trailer. He reserved his angst for Misha and other cast members. However, that didn't mean that he didn't enjoy watching his best friend meeting his match.

It was nearly as explosive as when him and Jared had been younger. The only thing that prevented a forced truce was the amount of space and time apart that you two experienced. It never had a chance to build up and become deadly. Or, that's what everyone was counting on, anyway.

“Did it work?” The Winchester's bitch face was turned her way. Two could play the acting game. She just read it better, “So, it did.”

“It's been two years. I don't need checked on, constantly,” He grumbled. Taking another swig as he flipped the burgers and hot dogs. She wasn't quite sure if he was talking about you or her nosing about.

“Jensen-”

“I'm fine, Gen...Really...I'm great.” She didn't look nearly convinced. Impatiently waiting for him to continue. He didn't disappoint. Unleashing the verbal diarrhea in a torrent after a moment of silence. He'd been stewing for too long. “She just...she's something else.” That seemed to catch her attention even more.

“Are you two fighting?” The question was carefully let out, ensuring that he knew she wasn't trying to push too hard. Simply expressing a bit of concern.

“No,” He scoffed. Despite that it's actually what he'd tried to enact more than once. You were just unshakeable. “She's just...she's always there, you know?” He sounded weak to his own ears, but that didn't stop the word vomit leaving his lips. “And she's always... on top of everything. God forbid I tell her what to do.” Every thing that had been itching at his nerves burst forth. “That's another thing! She isn't intimidated. At all. I told her to take a day off, or she's canned. What'd she do? She laughed. Laughed!” He was going to lose his mind over the saucy nanny. That much he was sure on.

“And you don't like that?” Gen's teasing tone made him mentally kick himself in the ass. His long suffering parent face came out at that. She missed the point. “Sounds like the perfect nanny if I'd ever heard of one.”

“She's not just a nanny,” He was aware that he sounded like a sulking child. It made his shoulders straighten even more. His voice deepening in frustration. “She joined the damn family. When she shouldn't've had to. Y/N was supposed to get back on her feet, and moved on.”

The lingering guilt came forward. You hadn't wanted to be trapped in role. Yet, there you were. All for his family's benefit. His benefit.

“Doesn't seem to bother her,” Genevieve noted, nodding her head subtly towards the scene in the pool.

You'd gathered reinforcements. Jensen's three helped you knock Jared under the water again while his own children simply cackled around the attack zone. All it took was a simple bribe from their chief to get them to join in on the battle. Suddenly, the pool erupted into full blown war fare.

Waves crashed over the edge. Floaties went flying through the air. But, everyone knew their limits. Tenderly, you all rode the thin line that would lead to death as you wrestled in the chlorinated pit.

“It should,” He grumbled. It had at one time. The memory of you insisting that you couldn't fill the void echoed in his brain. People didn't change that much. No, if you were okay with it? There was a reason. And there was only one he could piece together enough to make some kinda sense. “She's using us for a crutch. She should be out there. Looking to start her own family.”

He'd painted the image in his mind. Clear as day, it danced there. He could see you in a bar, taking a down night. Later, with your own family after you'd stumbled into some nice good looking chap who'd appreciate you. God knows that you'd earned it.

“Ever think that she doesn't want to?” The idea was dismissed before she even finished it. After all, what woman didn't want someone of their own? “She's a big girl, Jensen...She can decide when she's ready.”

“You don't always get to choose,” His answer was softer that time. Thinking of the turn his life had taken. “You don't always get time.”

His own lack of time still haunted him more than he'd acknowledge. Jensen had wanted forever. Instead, he'd gotten a sliver of it. Best damn sliver of his life, but still. It hadn't been enough. He wanted his wife back. Wanted the life they'd been denied.

“I know,” She would have offered him a hug if his expression hadn't turned back to the mulish expression that often resided in his character's face at the soft words.  It was his way of coping. Emotions turned deadly. He wouldn't- couldn't give into it. Not in front of the kids, anyway. Alone in his room was a different story. “Have you tried actually talking to her?”

“She treats me like one of the kids,” He muttered with a soft scowl that made Gen bite back a laugh. “Actually, that's not true. I get lower. She gives the kids more attention when they take up a problem with her.” The sulking was back in full force as he nudged at the meat, once again. It was the one trait of yours that drove him crazy. That easy dismissal of his concerns.

“I can talk to her-”

“No,” His head jerked her way in dismay. He didn't want anyone fighting his battles. Didn't want you to feel that he was forcing you out. “No,” He cleared his throat; this time speaking more calmly. “I'll figure something out...providing Jared doesn't kill her.” His eyes locked onto your form as you tried to tackle the bigger man, and failed. Laughing as you were tossed around like a rag doll.

–

“I still have water in my ears,” You grumbled back at the Ackle's fortress. Trying to dislodge the liquid by shaking your head. It was useless. You'd have to pull out the cotton balls and rubbing alcohol to try and draw it out. “Your friend is wicked.”

“You started it,” Jensen shot back, setting the dish he'd dried back into the cupboard.

They'd been discarded from that morning, before the small get together. Going to sleep with a dirty sink had turned into one of your pet peeves. So, there you were. At midnight. Cleaning dishes next to your employer and friend...of sorts.

“Fair point,” You relented, passing him the pan you'd just rinsed.

After nearly three years? You'd had no problem taunting the man who'd once intimidated you. The puppy-like beast could truly do damage if he wanted. Jared simply never had the desire to inflict permanent harm. Rather stuck to temporary discomfort.

And, you loved every bit of it. It made you feel welcomed. Placed on equal footing, despite the fact that you were the furthest thing from famous.

“I think it's time to replace this thing,” Jensen muttered as he shifted the thinning towel to a dry spot to work on the metal more.

“I can do this on my own, you know.” You pointed out without malice. After all, that's what you were paid to do. A job that you didn't particularly mind, either.

“Figured Jared kicked your ass enough, today.” The wry grin made your eyes roll before you turned away. Ignoring the way his chuckle made your stomach knot.

It wasn't a new feeling. Simply one that you couldn't focus on. He'd had that soul deep kinda connection that you longed for before. So rare that you doubted you'd ever find it. Not only was he still madly in love with Danneel. But, there was also the issue of him handing over a paycheck weekly. Even if you were willing to bend the rules a bit? He wouldn't. So, you turned back to what you could focus on. The dishes.

“I can take it from here,” You returned when you gathered your wits back to where they belonged. It took longer than you had liked. “Besides, you have a flight in the morning. You should get some sleep.”

“Sure thing, mom.” His dry tone was telling enough. You were being blown off. “You sure you can handle them on your own?”

His anxiety over the trip was both endearing and frustrating. On one hand, you understood it. The kids were his everything. He hadn't left their side for longer than a few hours since they'd lost their mother. On the other, it almost hurt that there wasn't enough trust built up to give him relief for a single weekend. To let you step in and care for his family as if they were your own. Hadn't you already proven your worth?

“I'll be fine,” You waved him off with a sudsy hand. Blowing him off as easily as he had your concern. He and Dee had raised some pretty fantastic kids before you'd stepped in. They'd stay that way over two days without their dad. You'd make sure of it. “You need some time to yourself, Jay.”

“When do you ever get that?” He pointed out, jumping on his opening. Your eyes rolled back so far that it was painful. Rehashing the now familiar argument.

“I'm starting to think that you're trying to get rid of me,” His horrified look your way was ignored as you pressed your point home. Making him understand exactly how it was coming across each time he pushed. “If you don't want me around-”

“Did I say that?” The answer was so Dean that you had to bite back the chuckle. He'd only get more worked up, again, if you did. So, you resisted the urge. The kids were out. Neither of you wanted to wake them. “I just think that you need a getaway- one that doesn't include my kids.”

“Are you kidding? What fun is it to go to the beach on your own?” You'd joined the family on their excursions. Everything from the family vacations to trips to conventions. You'd even stayed in Toronto when it came time to film Supernatural. Ensuring that Jensen hadn't needed to worry for a second about his children. Instead, he'd begun to direct it towards you. “I'm not missing much. Trust me. Been there. Done that.”

“Are you still hung up on-”

“I should have never told you that story,” You muttered before he could finish. He'd never forgotten. Or let you forget that you'd confided in him. It was the first thing that had made him give you a second look. “I have bad taste, Jensen. Notoriously bad taste.” He wasn't going to argue there. The guy in question was a douche. “I'm not bringing anything like that home with me, again. There's not enough sage in the world to get rid of that kind of energy. You really should thank me.” A sad smile lined Jensen's face. Danneel had been known to burn a bundle as needed. The tradition had lived on, even just for memories sake.

“Yeah,” He cleared his throat. Taking the hint, finally. “I shouldn't push.” The look on your face said that you agreed. Silence ensued as the nightly chore was wrapped up before you went your separate ways. The issue only held away for another day.

–

“We're good. Go have fun,” You winked over the snapchat. Jensen could see all the girls in the back. Odette had taken the place of Zeppelin for the night. The boys were all with Gen. The children's own request.

You pulled away from your face to record the dance party that was taking place to Little Mix's Salute. Makeup covered all their little faces haphazardly. Your own face carried the telling marks of a young child's heavy handedness. Boas and frilly pink pajamas filled the room. All had embraced their inner female, looking remarkably fierce as they yelled the lyrics.

You ended it with a little lip sync action and your own, half-assed salute. He found himself replaying it for the simple, wide smile on your face as you turned away in the end. You'd seemed happier than he'd expected. His fingers rubbed over the bridge of his nose. Maybe you and Gen had a point.

“Dude, you okay?” Jared's shoulder jostled his best friend lightly, making the shorter one jerk away from his phone. When he glanced back, his reflection stared back at him. A flower crown rested over his forehead. His back straightened as he locked the screen, and tucked the device back in his pocket.

“Fine,” He answered easily. His hand ran through his hair. A simple tell. “Y/N was just checking in.”

“It's hard to be away from them,” The understanding tone made Jensen's tension fall a bit. It was ridiculous to even try to hide it from Jared. “I get it, man.” The large hand clasped against his arm. “If you want to bail, I'll find a way to cover-”

“I can't do that to the fans,” He shook his head. They'd all been so patient. So damn sweet after he'd lost Danneel. They deserved more than him flaking out. Again. “No, she's got it.” A crooked side smile pulled up his face, “Besides, Gen would kill me if I left you alone. You're practically bursting at the seams.”

“Am not,” The little shit eating grin said otherwise. A look that called bull was the only response he got. “Okay, but number four being on the way is kind of a big deal.” Fatherly pride was contagious.

“Yeah, man, it is.” With a sigh, Jensen pulled himself together. Determined to fall back into old patterns as much as he still could.

Years ago, Danneel and him had said they were done. Hell, even on live TV. Yet, so had Jared and Gen. There was no predicting how life would go. What turns would come forward.

Jensen was happy for his friend. Hell, his brother. He'd be there for them and the kid. Just as they had for him and his brood. But, it didn't settle the pit in his gut.

His focus lingered on the what ifs that life had left him with. Where would they all be if that car accident hadn't happened? Would the man who'd hit her be behind bars for someone else? He even found himself wondering if he'd have a fourth baby if Danneel was still alive...

Part Three

ODAAT: @winchester-ofthe-lord

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @screechingartisancashbailiff

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernaturalginger @lilulo-12​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @malfoysqueen14​

#supernatural #SPN #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #Supernatural angst #spn angst #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #jensen #jensen ackles #jensen reader insert #jensen ackles reader insert #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen fanfiction #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles x you #jensen x reader #jensen x y/n #jensen x you

[lantur]

if you were mine - part three

summary: Riza has been working on the unit for close to a year when she starts to wonder whether Colonel Mustang’s interest in her is more than professional.

rated: t | words: 5852

part three of four

read on ao3

Thursday feels like it drags on at work. Riza’s eyes feel unusually heavy, her shoulders ache, and there’s a familiar, dull pain in her temples and behind her eyes.

One look at her desk calendar tells her why that is, and she breathes a small sigh. She’ll be in for an unpleasant weekend.

Riza stops by the corner store after work to buy her usual supplies. Chamomile tea, chocolate, cocoa powder and milk for making hot chocolate, stew meat, and lentils. For some reason, she always craves stew at this time of the month. At the last minute, she remembers that she needs some shampoo and conditioner as well, and tosses a bottle of each into her basket. She goes through it so much faster now that her hair is so long. She still hasn’t gotten used to that.

Roy comes over a few hours after she gets home, bearing a paper grocery bag with almost identical contents to hers. There’s no shampoo and conditioner, but there is a copy of The Best Shot at Success, the recently released autobiography of Ella Schultz, the first female officer in the Amestris military. Riza hugs him tight, and they spend a relaxing night curled up on her sofa, talking quietly.

She falls asleep in his arms, but wakes up alone in her bed, neatly tucked in. Hayate lies near her feet, loyally keeping watch over her.

That morning dawns without event - a surprise. The work day is busy, with more than enough to occupy her mind. Still, as the day wears on, she grows more uneasy.

“Is everything okay, Lieutenant?” Colonel Mustang asks her, at one point. “You seem a little preoccupied today.”

“I’m just concerned about the Abitz murder, sir,” Riza replies. That is part of the truth, after all. “About the possibility you raised that it might be connected to the Bangert incident in January.”

Everyone else is in the office with them, and Breda jumps in with a theory, which thankfully distracts the Colonel.

That evening, Riza walks Hayate in the park, lost in thought. She tries to relax for the rest of the night with the book Roy had bought her, but the attempt isn’t very successful. Half an hour from midnight, she’s pacing her apartment.

“Why hasn’t it started yet?” she asks Hayate. Her faithful friend tilts his head, whining softly in the back of his throat. It’s always started on Thursday afternoon or Thursday evening. Always.  

She wants to call Roy or Rebecca, the two people on this earth she can go to with anything, but she can’t. Not yet. Saying all of this to another person will make her fears real, and she isn’t ready for that yet.

“Maybe it’s just stress,” Riza says, but she doesn’t believe it, even as she says it. Even during the year she had spent in Ishval, when she had been a hollow, traumatized shell of a human being, her cycle had been as regular as clockwork.

Riza sits on the sofa, trying to think through the situation with the calm logic that is second nature to her. She is twenty-seven; far too young for her cycle to stop or change. Rebecca once mentioned that her mother had gone through menopause early, in her late thirties, but that’s a decade away yet.

She’s heard that women can miss their periods if they’ve lost weight, or are very active. She’s no more or less active than she has always been, and her clothes fit the same as they always have - not any looser. But they’re not any tighter, either, which should rule out the fear she can’t even verbalize in the privacy of her own mind.

Still, it takes her hours to fall asleep.

Riza spends Saturday with Rebecca, and manages to act normally enough that Rebecca doesn’t seem suspicious of anything amiss.

She wakes up late on Sunday morning, a leaden feeling in her stomach. Even without having to go to the bathroom, she knows that her period hasn’t started yet.

“Fuck,” Riza says softly, staring at the ceiling.

She can’t bring herself to eat breakfast. Her stomach rebels at the thought - god, her stomach actually rebels at the thought. Riza sobs once, standing in front of the stove, and immediately presses her hand to her mouth, as if she could stuff the sound back inside her. Now isn’t the time for panic or for her emotions to take over. Now is the time for calm detachment and action.

She tilts her head back and breathes deeply, in and out, until her composure returns and she’s able to take Hayate for a walk.

After coming home to drop Hayate off, Riza sits on the sofa for several minutes, resting her palms against her knees, trying to ground herself. Then, she rises and walks to the pay phone on the far east side of Trettach Park. This particular pay phone and the area around it are almost always deserted.

She enters the booth, drops the coins in, picks up the phone, and dials a number with a Central area code.

The line is picked up after the fifth ring. “Hello?”

The gruff voice is immediately recognizable. “Hello, Madame Christmas,” Riza says. “It’s Elizabeth. How are you?”

“Ah, Elizabeth.” She can hear the smile in Chris Mustang’s voice. “How many times do I have to tell you that you should call me Chris?”

“At least one more, Madame.”

“Stubborn girl. Well, that’s why you suit Rhys so well. Birds of a feather.” Chris sighs. “How’s he doing? Staying out of trouble, I hope?”

The mention of Roy makes Riza swallow over her suddenly dry throat. “Yes, for now.”

“And you?”

Riza winds the cord of the phone around her finger. “Actually, that’s why I called,” she says. “I haven’t been feeling well lately.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end, and Riza knows that Chris has understood her meaning.

“I see,” Chris says carefully. “What’s wrong?”

“Headaches, back pain, fatigue. And I’m late, which never happens.” Riza looks down at the floor. “I had a little nausea this morning. Though that could have been from nerves.”

There’s another, longer pause. “Those are all early signs,” Chris says. Her voice is softer, sympathetic.

Her stomach plummets, and Riza rests her hand against the wall to steady herself. “But how?” she asks. “How could this have happened? I’ve been as reliable with my tea as I always have. I’ve never missed a day.”

Chris sighs. “There can be inconsistencies, from batch to batch,” she says. “Issues with quality control. Some of the people who source it will mix in powdered aster to add bulk. It’s indistinguishable from Queen Anne’s Lace in color, odor, and taste. And even pure Queen Anne’s grows stale, over time, and loses effectiveness. Some apothecaries aren’t reliable at taking older batches off the shelves when they should.”

Riza closes her eyes, fighting the wave of dizziness that washes over her, and the panic. “Chris,” she says hoarsely. She wants to sink to the ground. “What am I going to do? I can’t - we can’t--”

“Breathe, Elizabeth,” Chris instructs. “Take four deep breaths. Stay with me.”

Riza breathes in, out, in, out, shakily. Her hands are trembling so hard she can barely hold onto the phone. “Okay,” she says. She trusts Chris. Chris has guided probably a hundred other women through what she is going through now. “I’m here.”

“The one good thing about this is that you caught it early,” Chris says. “And that is a very good thing. There’s no need for any back alley operations that will put you in danger.”

Riza presses a hand to her mouth. “Really?”

“Yes. It’s a matter of two herbal tinctures, one of crocus sativus and one of mesua ferrea.”

“Hold on,” Riza says faintly, bending down and searching for the notebook that she always keeps in her shoulder bag. “I need to…”

“Don’t worry about writing these down,” Chris says at once. “After what happened with the Queen Anne’s, I’m not trusting any apothecary in East City to handle this. I’ll brew some myself and I’ll send one of my couriers over. She’ll bring my written instructions on how to take them, as well as detailed notes of exactly what you can expect after you do. She’ll arrive tomorrow morning by eight.”

“Thank you,” Riza whispers, her eyes stinging. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me. You’re family, and I look out for family.” Chris heaves a long sigh. “I’m sorry,” she says. “That it has to be this way.”

Riza thinks back to their last visit to Central, to Chris’s teasing Roy about when they would get married and give her a grandchild to spoil, because she wasn’t getting any younger, you know. She nods mutely, and then remembers Chris can’t see her. “I am, too,” she says, and her voice cracks.  

“Have you told Rhys?”

“Not yet,” Riza says. The thought brings back the feeling of wanting to throw up.

“Tell him,” Chris advises. “I know how strong you are, but this is too much of a burden for even you to shoulder alone.”

“I will.” Riza wipes her eyes. “Thank you.”

“Stay strong, Elizabeth. Take care. I’ll call you to check in after a few days.”

Riza walks home, feeling dazed. Hayate greets her at the door, and she sinks to her knees and wraps her arms around his neck, burying her face in his fur.

She isn’t sure how long she stays like that. She doesn’t want it to - she wants to keep it at a safe distance, removed - but it sinks in, slowly, inexorably.

She is pregnant, and tomorrow, she won’t be.

-

The strain of the morning exhausts her. Riza sleeps on the sofa for an hour, wakes, forces herself to choke down some buttered toast. She makes the second of the three phone calls she has to make today, and manages to avoid breaking down into tears on the phone.

Then she makes the third call. She reaches Roy on his office line, because Sundays are his designated day to finish as much work as he needs to, while having the privacy of East City Command entirely to himself. On Sundays, there’s no need to maintain any of the farce of incompetence and lazy, lackadaisical attitude that has been his mainstay for so many years.

“Hello, Colonel,” Riza says, when he picks up. To her relief, her voice is calm and even. “I’m sorry to bother you at work.”

She hears the rustle of paperwork being set down. “It’s never a bother to hear from you, Lieutenant,” Roy says. “What’s going on?”

“I have an idea about the recent murders of former State Alchemists that I’d prefer not to share over the phone. Would you mind stopping by after you’re finished?”

“I’ll be there in an hour,” Roy says at once. “Would you like me to bring any of the evidence files?”

“That won’t be necessary, sir. Thank you. I’ll see you soon.”

-

Cleaning her guns has always been a calming ritual. Gathering the supplies - cleaning solvent, gun oil, bore brush, patch holder and patches, cleaning rod, flashlight, cleaning brush, soft cloths for polishing. Unloading, disassembling, scrubbing and lubricating the barrel and the action, putting it all back together again, polishing the metal until it gleams lovely, subtle gray and burnished silver.

Riza cleans three of her guns and she’s just finished with putting her supplies away when she hears the key turn in the lock. Roy steps inside, and his smile at seeing her almost instantly fades into an expression of concern. “Riza,” he says, crossing over to the sofa and taking her into his arms. “What’s wrong?”

She bites back the instinctive response, to deny that anything is wrong; to claim that everything is fine. It is her job to protect Roy, and for an instant, Riza debates lying, telling him that there’s nothing amiss or just that she’s sick, and sending him away. She can bear this burden on her own, and protect him from it. Why should both of them suffer?

But something inside her warns her that she’ll regret that if she does, and Riza takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She glances at him for a second, and her gaze slides away. She can’t look at him. She can’t. She stares at the potted plant on the coffee table instead. “I’m pregnant,” she says.

The words fall, heavy, between them.

Roy blinks, looking stunned, like she had just struck him. Riza sees the panic begin to dawn in his eyes, then, the horror, the realization of what this means for them. It makes her stomach turn. Nobody ever wants to see panic and horror in the person they love’s eyes, and know they are the cause of it.

“I’m not keeping it, of course,” she continues. Her voice is remote, calm, unrecognizable even to herself. “I called your aunt from a pay phone this morning. She’s sending a couple of tinctures for me to take, and they should get here by tomorrow morning. It’s early enough that there’s no need for a surgical procedure.”

The expression of relief that flits across his face is gone in an instant, replaced by genuine concern, but it’s enough to gut her.

“Riza,” Roy says, reaching out to her, taking her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She doesn’t reply. She has no strength to speak.

Roy draws her into his arms, holds her close and so tightly it almost hurts, strokes her hair. Riza can feel his ragged breaths against her body, and she screws her eyes shut. She hasn’t wanted to break down so badly in years.

“It has to be done,” she says, her voice muffled by his shoulder, and she is proud that her voice remains steady. “Our careers - your ambition… We have to do this.”

Roy strokes her cheek. He is silent for a long while. It is a wild, ridiculous thought, but Riza imagines him saying Don’t, and her heart breaks.

“Thank you,” he whispers, at last. His voice cracks.

Riza bites the inside of her cheek and nods.

“If you wait to take the tinctures until tomorrow evening, I can be here with you,” Roy says, pulling back and looking into her eyes. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I won’t be.” Riza wraps her arms around herself. “I called Rebecca earlier. She’s taking the next train over from her parents’ place. And don’t worry - she doesn’t know anything except for the fact that my friend Elizabeth has fallen ill, but will make a full recovery after a course of some antibiotics.”

She hadn’t meant the words to sound bitter, genuinely wanting to assuage the question on his mind, but Roy slumps, rubbing the back of his neck. He takes it for a rebuke, and takes it without a word of denial. “Thank you,” he says again, quietly. “And I’m sorry.”

“It’s the right decision,” Riza repeats. “I know that.” And if she says it out loud enough, maybe that will lessen the knot in her chest, relieve the pit in her stomach and the weight pressing down on her shoulders.

Roy looks at her, concerned, and he opens his mouth to speak, but at that moment there’s nothing Riza wants more than to be alone. Far away from here. No, just far away from him. She’s never felt that way before.

“You should go,” she says, standing up.

He stays put. “I don’t want you to be by yourself,” he repeats.

There’s so much guilt written on him. She hasn’t seen him like this since Ishval. Even now, Riza worries for him, and makes herself smile a small smile. “I’m not alone,” she says, gesturing to Hayate, who rises from his spot near the window and trots to her side. “Besides, the last thing you want is for Rebecca to walk in on you here.”

“Oh. Right.” Roy finally stands, a little unsteady on his feet. “I’ll come over tomorrow after work, to check in.”

She doesn’t particularly want that; can’t imagine how she will face him, but Riza inclines her head anyway.

Roy steps close and cups her face in his hands, kisses her brow with such tenderness. Riza’s hand closes in the fabric of his shirt, holding on for a moment. There’s so much she wants to say, but she can’t.

She lets go, like she will tomorrow.

Roy leaves, looking back over his shoulder worriedly the whole time, as if he’s afraid she will combust.

Riza sinks back into her sofa and holds her arms out to Hayate. He bounds up beside her immediately, curling in her lap, and she strokes his soft, warm fur, numb.

She must have drifted off again, weary from this hellish day. When she wakes, she immediately realizes that she and Hayate aren’t alone on the sofa anymore. Rebecca is sitting beside her, a book open on her lap, two cups of tea on the coffee table in front of them. She smiles softly. “Hey, Ri.”

Riza leans into her, wrapping her arms around her friend in a rare moment of expressiveness. “Thanks for coming,” she murmurs. “I owe you.”

Rebecca strokes her hair, and then offers her the cup of tea. “You don’t. This is what friends are for.”

They pull back and look each other in the eye. “He’s not forcing you to do this, is he?” Rebecca asks at last, breaking the silence.

The bluntness of the question startles Riza, and she almost drops her tea. “What?”

“Come on, Riza,” Rebecca says softly. “He’s your commanding officer. Is he--”

She wants to deny it, she should, but she respects her friend too much to lie to her face. Rebecca deserves better than that. Riza shakes her head. “No,” she says. “I… I made the call before I even told him.”

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“It’s what I have to do,” Riza repeats, for what feels like the hundredth time, out loud and in her mind, that day. “For both of us.”

Rebecca sighs. “You don’t think there’s a way to keep it, without revealing who the father is?”

“No.” Riza stares into her teacup. “People would talk, and they would assume it’s him. It would end my career, and jeopardize his as well. And I can’t do that.”

“Fuck his career," Rebecca mutters under her breath. "Adoption?” she suggests, though she sounds unconvinced.

“I admire women who can make that choice, but carrying this pregnancy and holding our…” - Riza chokes - “Our child in my arms, and giving it to someone else to love? I know I can get through this, but I don’t think I could survive that.”

Riza turns away, unable to face the sympathy on Rebecca’s face. “It’s for the best,” she repeats. “The pain will be temporary.” And she remembers her father tattooing the Flame Alchemy array onto her back, and the agony of Roy burning away parts of it.

The physical pain will be temporary. She has heard about the cramps, the bleeding, that can occur with abortifacients. But the rest of it, the grief, the emotional pain - she will carry that with her, just like Ishval.

Rebecca takes her hand. “I’ll be here for you,” she says bracingly, reading her mind. “You’ll get through this, just like you did the rest. Now, I’m going to go make us something to eat.”

Riza’s stomach rebels at the thought. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry right now.”

Rebecca holds a hand up. “Not up for discussion. Dinner, then sleep. You need to keep your strength up.”

Riza can’t argue with that.

-

Riza had thought that sleep would be difficult in coming, but she is so weary emotionally that she succumbs just after dinner with Rebecca. She dreams of Ishval, and wakes up with tears in her eyes. She wonders if this is penance.

The morning has a surreal, dreamlike quality to it. Rebecca receives Madame Christmas’s courier at eight, and the two of them open the paper bag and look over the tinctures inside, and the enclosed letter. Riza reads the letter twice, taking in the instructions and the warnings. The tinctures have to be drunk consecutively. There will be cramping, and the bleeding will start one to four hours after taking the second of the two tinctures. There might be blood clots that could be “up to the size of a lemon.”

Rebecca takes Riza’s arm, and she holds on to it, grateful for the stability and gravity of Rebecca on one side of her and Hayate sitting next to her.

“Come on,” Riza says, finally. Her throat aches. “Let’s do this.”

They sit on the bathroom floor together. Rebecca holds a glass of water, and Riza holds the two tinctures of amber liquid. They look so innocuous.

“It’s not too late,” Rebecca says. “If you change your mind, know that I will do anything to support you. I have family connections in the civilian sector that can help you find another job.”

Riza takes her hand and squeezes it. “I know. Thank you.”

She is scared. It hurts to admit it, and it’s stupid, because this is the natural consequence of their actions, but she is scared. And as much as she had wanted him far away last night, right now, she wishes Roy were by her side.

Both tinctures taste bitter on their way down.

-

Roy goes straight to the liquor store after leaving Riza’s apartment.

He pastes a bright smile on his face the moment before he steps inside, and greets the employees cheerfully. He chats with them as he grabs a bottle of vodka, then whiskey, and then rum. He is stocking up for a party tonight, a gathering of old friends from his academy days. He can’t wait. It’s been more than a year since they last got together.

The smile falls off Roy’s face as soon as he leaves the store. He wants nothing more than to break open one of the bottles on the walk to his house, but he stops himself. Public intoxication is conduct unbecoming of an officer. Just like carrying on a secret affair with one’s subordinate and forcing her to face the consequences on her own.

Roy opens the bottle of vodka as soon as he’s back in his dark, small apartment. He has three gulps down, burning his chest like fire, by the time he collapses on the sofa, head in his hands.

-

The next day is hell.

Drunk for most of the night, raging hangover and trying to hide it, three hours of sleep, painfully hot shower to attempt to wash the smell of liquor off of him before coming into work, hell.

“Where’s Hawkeye?” Havoc asks, as soon as they’re all (not all) in the office. Riza’s absence is conspicuous; Roy feels it like one of his senses had suddenly vanished.

Falman scratches his head. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen her miss a day before.”

Roy stares down at his paperwork and tries not to flinch.

“Out sick,” Fuery replies, looking up from his radio. “She left a message. Said she should be back by mid-week.”

“Must be a hell of a cold,” Breda says. “Let’s order a soup delivery from Harmann’s to her place over lunch.”

Roy spends the day staring at his paperwork and getting nothing significant done. His head pounds. Every other moment he finds himself thinking about how Riza is doing.

He knows more about medical abortions than the average person, from listening to his aunt and the ladies at the bar. He knows more than he wants to. The painful cramps, clots, nausea, dizziness. And he remembers hearing about the infection that had sent Vanessa to the hospital in the middle of the night and nearly killed her.

He was supposed to protect Riza. She is the most important person in his world. He was supposed to protect her, not put her in one of the worst positions of her life, to the point of putting her health in danger. He hasn’t failed so colosally since Ishval. The shame makes Roy’s throat close up and his face burn.

He let her down. Riza has shown him nothing but loyalty, devotion, compassion, empathy, and love, for all these years, and he has repaid it like this. With a secret abortion alone at home. He can’t even be by her side today, because then they’d be out of work at the same time. Then people would talk, rumors would spread, and that would sabotage their careers and his ambition.

Roy rubs his eyes and curses himself for selfish garbage. He asks himself, for the tenth time since the last evening, if his ambition is worth it.

At least Riza isn’t completely alone, he remembers belatedly. Rebecca is with her. That is a small comfort. And he can go see her as soon as he leaves work (but after night falls and the city streets begin to empty out, because nobody needs to see him visiting his adjutant’s apartment alone, because then people would talk, rumors would spread…)

The thought of seeing Riza makes Roy’s chest tighten with anxiety. He wants to see her, he needs to see her - your selfish wants and needs are what got Riza into this situation in the first place, he reminds himself brutally - and at the same time, something in him shrinks back from the thought. He remembers the way she had looked at him last night, removed and distant. Riza has never looked at him like that before.

What if she hates him now? What if she’ll never be able to look at him again without remembering the pain he has put her through?

His palms are sweating. Roy wipes them against his chair, trying to still the slight tremble to them.

He can’t remember the last time he felt so sickeningly, viscerally anxious. The rest of the hours drag by. One by one, the rest of the team leaves for the evening.

Roy locks up the office once they have all gone. Stops in the locker room, changes out of his uniform, washes his face, dry heaves over the sink a few times.

He goes to Bosque’s after leaving and picks up food for Riza. It’s blissfully dark by then. A blessing, considering how badly the lights and sunshine have made his head pound all day. He’s walking up the stairs, lost in thought, and almost runs into someone coming down.

She is short, dark-haired, and looks just as preoccupied as he had been. They recognize one another the instant they lock eyes.

“Catalina,” Roy manages, inclining his head, suppressing the immediate, instinctive reaction of fuck, this is bad.

Rebecca’s eyes narrow. “Scumbag,” she says, and shoulders past him, continuing down the stairs.

Roy stares, taken aback. Before she can get too far, he reaches out, grabbing her by the arm. “Wait,” he says, too loudly. “How is she?”

Rebecca shakes him off. “Like you ca--”

“Please,” Roy interrupts. In any other time, he would have been incensed, but now, all he feels is weariness and worry.

“She’s okay,” Rebecca says at last, refusing to make eye contact with him. “It went as well as can be expected. No sign of fever or complications.”

Roy closes his eyes, and all the breath leaves his body in a long sigh. “Thank you,” he says. “For being there when I couldn’t.”

Rebecca glares at him and then whirls around, leaving without another word.

Roy proceeds upstairs, unlocking the door with some trepidation. “Riza?” he calls, stepping inside.  

Hayate yips, but doesn’t rise from his spot on the sofa, next to Riza. She sits there, wrapped in a blanket, the book he had given her on her lap, cup of tea in her hand. She looks at him, and her grasp on the teacup seems to tighten. “Hey,” she says quietly.

Her face is pale, and there are dark circles under her eyes. She looks drawn, exhausted.

Roy drops the bag of food on the floor and walks over to her, enfolding her in his arms without a word. There is so much he wants to say, so much that he had planned to say during those hours of work, and now, he can’t bring himself to speak.

“How are you feeling?” he manages, at last.

“I’m okay,” Riza says, drawing away from him, resting her hands on Hayate again. His fur warms her hands so well. She’s felt cold most of the day. “Still a bit...sore. But the worst of it has been over for hours.”

“I’m glad,” Roy says, pulling in a ragged breath, and Riza looks at him out of the corner of her eye, through her bangs. Even now, the sight makes her aching shoulders tighten a little further out of worry. He looks as awful as she’s ever seen him, and he smells faintly of alcohol. He had made the effort to shave, but there’s a fresh cut on his cheek.

It’s clear that he hasn’t taken this well. Or in stride. She never likes to see him agitated, let alone deeply disturbed like this, but it gives Riza a sense of perverse reassurance. That at least she isn’t the only one suffering. The thought makes her feel guilty a heartbeat after she has it.

“I’m so sorry,” Roy whispers. He takes her hand, holds it tightly, stares at the coffee table.

“Don’t be,” Riza makes herself say, because that is the right response. “This wasn’t your fault. It was both of us.”

Roy turns and looks at her with that intense, penetrating stare she knows so well, the one that can root anyone to the floor and cause any thought of untruths to wither and die. “Are you all right?” he asks, and that look on his face prevents her from her first, instinctive response. “I’ve always counted on you to be honest with me. Please don’t stop now. Don’t feel that you have to hold back in order to spare me anything.”

That sincerity, the plea, cuts deep. Riza meets his gaze. “I know this is what I had to do,” she says carefully, willing herself to keep her voice steady. “What we had to do. I kept - keep - telling myself that. And you. And Rebecca. I kept thinking that, but…”

She trails off, suddenly unable to say another word.

“Oh, Riza,” Roy whispers, sounding anguished, and he puts his hand on her shoulder.

Riza folds into herself, wrapping her arms around her stomach, and breaks down sobbing. Roy pulls her into him, holding her tightly as she weeps, curling against him, painful, gasping for air, gut-wrenching sobs, like she hasn’t since her mother died and then Ishval. As hard as she tries, she can’t stop. “I wanted it,” she cries. “I know it’s stupid, but I wanted it, so badly, and...and--”

“It’s not stupid,” Roy says hoarsely. She can feel the moisture in her hair and knows that he is crying too.

She hadn’t cried when the cramps had wracked her body, and hadn’t cried when the bleeding had started. She had put herself into a stoic daze, like she had so many times before. Now, it’s like a dam has broken. Riza cries for what feels like hours, until her ribs and eyes ache and she can barely breathe.

Roy holds her the entire time, stroking her hair, wiping her face with the corners of her blanket. When her tears finally subside, he tilts her face up to his with a gentle pressure of fingers on his chin, and Riza looks up into his reddened eyes.

“Next time, it will be different,” Roy says quietly. “I promise you that.”

His voice is deadly serious, the way it had been when he had vowed to become Fuhrer. The words take a moment to sink in, and they make her eyes burn all over again. Riza nods wordlessly.

Roy reaches out and tucks a lock of stray hair behind her ear. Then he looks at her, a searching, tentative gaze. He leans forward, slowly, like he’s never done before, clearly telegraphing the movement, and kisses her softly on the lips.

Riza kisses him back, like she has a thousand times before. But this time, instead of feeling like coming home, like comfort, it hurts. As viscerally as it had when he had burned the skin on her back so long ago.

She jerks away instinctively, automatically. Roy blinks at her, startled, and then turns red. “I’m sorry,” he says hastily. He reaches toward her, and then hesitates, pulling his hands back, as if remembering himself. “I shouldn’t have just--”

Riza touches his knee, feeling his leg twitch beneath her hand. “It’s not you,” she says, with feeling. “It just feels too...raw...right now.” She pauses, struggling with the words. “It might be a while until everything feels...right. I just need time.”

“Of course,” Roy says, running a hand through his hair, making it stand on end.

He looks like he is going to say something, and Riza forestalls him. “You don’t have to wait for me,” she says. “If all of this has become too much of a complication in your life, a distraction from your goal. Or if you’d rather be with a woman you can actually take out in public. Someone without all of this--” she tries not to choke on the word, and gestures between them. “Baggage.”

Roy grabs her hand, giving her another one of those intense looks. “Riza,” he says. “There is nobody else I would rather be with. I don’t care how long I have to wait for you. Whether it’s weeks, or months, or years. I’ll wait, without question.”

“Roy--”

“I’m a patient man,” he says, squeezing her hand. “And I won’t be deterred from my goals. You should know that.”

“I do,” Riza whispers, relenting at last. “I do. And thank you, for understanding.”

“Always.”

Roy stays over that night, though, just to make sure that she is all right. They eat dinner together and Roy takes Hayate out for a short walk. Afterward, he tucks her into bed and settles into the reading chair in the corner of her room, near the window. Riza falls into a deep, dreamless sleep.

She wakes up briefly at sunrise, to Roy moving around the room, getting ready to leave for work. The other side of her bed is still tucked neatly, and it looks like he had slept in the armchair.

“Try to get some paperwork done today, Colonel,” she says, turning toward him, half-getting up in bed. “I’m sure you have a lot to catch up on.”

His back is to her, and she sees him stiffen at the formality of the words. He turns to face her, and Riza smiles.

Roy visibly relaxes at the look on her face, and salutes her. “I’ll do my best, Lieutenant.”

He leaves, and Riza settles back into bed, feeling simultaneously melancholy and more at ease than she has in days.

#royai #royai fanfiction #royai fanfic #roy mustang x riza hawkeye #fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood #fma:b #roy mustang #riza hawkeye

[love-fireflysong]

Day 19: Domestic

Fandom: Tales of Phantasia  Character(s): Chester Burklight, Arche Klein  Words: 1309  Rating: General (minor swearing) Author’s Notes: It’s more Tales! Yay! Tried something different here, cause it’s not often I try to write dialogue between two people who absolutely love to tear the shit out of each other verbally, but still obviously really like and respect each other. I’ve noticed when reading other stories about them talking, that they tend to come across as them hating each other, just using the worst insults ever, with a sudden shift to ‘oh shit, I think I’m in love with you actually’. So I tried to find a nice middle ground but I don’t really know if I hit it.

“I seriously cannot believe that you’ve over a hundred years old, and you still can’t cook for shit.”

From where she was standing next to Chester in their kitchen, Arche poked him none to gently in his side, laughing at the way he squirmed to get away. “And I can’t believe that you’re still a rude little ass who insults his elders like this.”

Chester rubbed his side with a glare. “What elders? I don’t see anyone like that here. All I see is a pink abomination who acts like a six year-old.”

“Hey! I am a mature older woman, with years of knowledge and life experience behind me.”

He couldn’t help the snort that came out as he looked at her incredulously. “Mature? You? I’m definitely more mature then you are, and you’re like six times my age!”

Arche narrowed her eyes. “I’ll show you mature.” She abruptly pounced on him, tugging at both of his cheeks as she dragged Chester down to her level. He didn’t take anytime in returning the gesture in retaliation, and soon the both of them were standing in the kitchen and tugging at each others faces as they continued to insult each other.

“How is this proving you’re more mature?”

“You’re fighting back aren’t ya? That means you’re nothing but a child!”

“Child?! You’re the one that managed to burn the potato stew to the pot!”

“Not my fault you have crappy cookware!”

“Not my fault you’re a crappy cook!”

“Bastard!”

“Shrew!”

Neither is quite sure who let’s go first, but before they know it, they’re both glaring at the other, cheeks bright red from the constant pinching as Arche is now grabbing onto the sleeves of Chester’s shirt and he’s holding firmly onto her upper arms. They hold the the glare for as long as they can, but soon enough the both of them break down laughing, foreheads pressed together, and their grip on the other the only thing keeping them from collapsing to the floor in their giggles.

Soon enough, that too tapers off and the two of them are left standing in the middle of the kitchen, wide smiles on their faces. She’s been missing this banter between them even more then she thought she would over the last hundred years, and if anyone has learned to make every moment count, it’s her. So, taking advantage of the moment in question, Arche steals a quick, but firm, kiss. One that Chester barely manages to return before she’s let go of his shirt and turns back to the pot of what was supposed to be potato stew. But instead of chunks of white potatoes, carrots, and onions in a rich, brown, pork sauce, all that was in there was misshapen lumps of charcoal in a black, viscous sludge that had managed to burn to the edges of the cast iron cooking pot. She could only groan in dismay and make an exaggerated pout at the sight.

"I really thought I had it this time too...”

With his own groan, this one in grim acceptance of his fate, Chester grabbed at the pot and extinguished the flame from the stove. “And this is why I’m the one who cooks in this relationship. I cook, you clean. And then I clean up after you.”

Arche stuck her tongue out over her shoulder, but grabbed her broom and made to follow Chester outside. “Maybe it’s still salvageable, or edible. I mean, it can’t be a complete loss can it?”

When he reaches the door that lead to the outside of the the house, he turned to face her with a look of disbelief and disgust. “I say this with full offense intended, but I would have a better chance of survival fighting Dhaos alone and naked, then eating this crud.” Arche made to smack him in his ass with the handle of her broom, but he was already outside dumping the black concoction into the hole that had been so-loving dubbed ‘Arche’s Cooking Pot’ when she had first tried making a quiche  a few weeks back. She debated on smacking Chester with the broom anyway, but decided that it might send him into the hole too and she wasn’t nearly that mean. Or angry. 

“You think a Fire Ball would help to burn some of the gunk off?”

The snort that Chester made was so sudden, that he almost dropped the pot into the hole with the stew. A good thing he didn’t, he had a strange feeling that the combination of Arche’s ‘cooking’ failures would manage to eat through the cast iron pot almost instantly. “I think a Fire Ball would help to destroy our only cooking pot we have left.”

She frowned, knowing that he was right but didn’t want to admit it. She watched in silence instead as he scraped out as much of the charred food as he was able to before sighing. Unfortunately for her, there wasn’t a whole lot that her magic was gonna be able to do for them here. So she turned to go back inside and see what they could manage for supper with any ingredients they still had leftover.

“Hey, Arche.”

She stopped and looked over her shoulder a little hesitant and distrustful. It was never a good thing when Chester let his voice get that soft and thoughtful. Usually meant he was thinking about Ami, or that he was thought he was being too harsh with her. She didn’t like soft, caring Chester nearly as much as hot-headed, brash Chester. Soft Chester had his time and place to be sure, but Annoying Chester was much more fun to deal with. Annoying Chester she likes. She really likes him a lot, actually.

“Yeah...?”

“I think we still have some rice left over from when we did hashed beef a couple of nights ago. Go see if Cress and Mint have any tofu. I’ll make some Mabo Curry tonight.”

Arche winced. Ami it was. “Sure. No problem.”

She hears Chester sigh and braces herself for whatever is coming next. “And see if their willing to let you have some fruit too.” Apparently it was a two-fer tonight. Just her luck. Man, she really messed up on that potato stew.

“You gonna have enough time to make both the curry and a fruit dish?”

“Nope. That’s why your in charge of the dessert.”

Arche scoffs and tries to defuse the tense atmosphere building. She can’t salvage supper, but she can try to salvage this at least. They can have that talk later tonight. “Thought you said I was a shitty cook.”

He turns his head to look over his shoulder at her, still scrapping methodically away at the pot, though he’s almost done at this point. “You are. The worst cook I have ever met. Pretty sure you’re gonna poison me one day.” He see’s her open her mouth to rebuke or argue or something and cuts her off. “That being said, unless you’ve somehow gotten worse over the past hundred years, I do remember you being at least half-decent at those fruit desserts.”

She mentally pats her back in victory and can’t help the grin that comes to her face. “Oh, just you wait. I’ve gotten even better. I’m gonna knock your boots off with my fruit cake! You’re gonna regret ever calling me an awful cook.” Arche hooks her leg over her broom and fly’s towards the house where Cress and Mint are staying, but manages to overhear Chester’s next sentence as he practically yells it out to her.

“I’m already regretting asking you to help in the first place.”

With a wave of her hand, she sends a small Stone Blast towards Chester over the pit and laughs at his startled swear and the finger he sends up to her in retaliation.

#pride month prompt challenge #my writing #tales of phantasia #arche klein #chester burklight #archester #i am single handily bring life back to the top tag arent i? #god the poor people following that tag must be sick of me by now

[elisaphoenix13]

Rescue

Was New York cursed or something? Was there a beacon that was only visible to bad guys and aliens with ill intent that shouted 'Attack Here'? At this point, Tony wouldn't doubt it. Everyone's dinner was so rudely interrupted by an alien attack, and Wanda had made everyone's collective favorite. Stew. Simple, sure...but it was hearty and filling and the witch didn't hold back with flavor.

Now they would have to return to cold stew. It was still good when heated up, but nothing beat fresh off the stove stew. Even Peter was a little peeved. So they left Diana with Cassie (at least they could enjoy the stew the way it should be enjoyed), and Harley made his way down to the lab. He was the team's external eyes and ears, and there had already been a couple of occasions that he saved someone from a back attack or from being swarmed.

"Dad! Peter's falling!" Harley's voice shouts over the comm, and Tony stops in mid air to look for his younger son.

Harley barely gave him the location before Tony was flying toward Peter and his heart dropped into his stomach when he indeed saw the younger teen falling from a skyscraper. Spiderman showed no signs of moving to save himself, so the billionaire didn't waste anymore time to swoop in and catch him before he painted the pavement. Except an alien had the falling body in its sight as well and Tony barely saw the large weapon it carried (some sort of plasma cannon maybe), before he was turning to cover Peter from the oncoming blast. Tony grunts when they're both forcibly tossed through a nearby abandoned building, and when they roll to a stop, the building groans dangerously above them before collapsing.

Tony had been knocked out for a couple of minutes, and when he came to, he found that both he and Peter were stuck. Miraculously Peter had escaped being buried under the concrete, Tony not so much. He attempts to lift the rubble on his chest, but when the surrounding pieces crunch in warning, he releases the concrete and gasps out. Don't freak out. Don't freak out. Don'tfreakout.

"F-Fri...reboot the comm and give me vitals from Karen." Tony hisses. His chest wasn't the only thing under pressure. His right leg was buried too.

He was trying to ignore the pain in his arm too. The scars were flaring up.

"Peter only shows signs of a minor concussion  and a few abrasions from when the building collapsed." Friday answers almost immediately, and the next moment he was overwhelmed by concerned shouting over the comm.

"Tones! I swear if you don't answer--" Rhodey yells.

"I'm okay! I'm fine Platypus. At least for now, but me and the kid are out of commission until someone can dig us out."

"Are you hurt or in immediate danger?" The colonel asks.

"Uh...no. I'm a little buried but the suit should hold. Peter got lucky but he's kind of counting sheep right now."

Clint was the next to speak up. "Uhh...guys? I think Mama Bear is about to give Quill a run for his money."

That was all Tony got before his comm went dead again. There was only one thing Tony could think of that would have Stephen supposedly giving Quill a run for his money. He was beyond pissed. He probably saw both Tony and Peter go down and have the building collapse on them, and pulled out all the stops. Right now, Stephen was the all powerful Sorcerer Supreme and his eyes were probably glowing green. At least he could come back from that by himself. Quill on the other hand would go completely berserk and only Scott or Cassie could bring him out of that. Safely at least. The space pirate would eventually calm down by himself but sometimes it took too long and he was a danger to anyone nearby, so Scott was usually sent in to calm the beast.

A loud boom not only echoes from outside his and Peter's location, but it also sent vibrations through the area. The rubble above and around them shuddering from the disturbance. Mama Bear was definitely pissed.

"FRIDAY, are you still talking with the tower?"

"Yes Boss."

"Initiate Rescue Protocol." Tony huffs out as he tries to move the rubble the slightest bit. The pressure was making it hard to breathe, even with the suit. If he could even move it just enough to relieve some of the pressure on his chest, it would be a relief. FRIDAY quickly had him stop though. Any more movement from his position could risk bringing more of the rubble down and potentially crushing Peter. He was also a little worried that Stephen's power could potentially disturb the ruins he and Peter were stuck under and bring it all down even more. Hence the rescue protocol. Tony was afraid that it could be dangerous to wait for someone to finish fighting off aliens to come dig them out.

He would have sighed with relief if he could breathe properly when he heard the sound of repulsors, and he waited nervously as he heard the rubble being shifted. It was slow going, and Tony was just waiting for the wrong piece to be moved, but he built AI's to help with these kind of situations.

The rubble to his left shifts, the Rescue suit appearing in the opening, and Tony immediately points over at Peter. "Get him out first before you help me."

Rescue steps over Tony and his concrete tomb, grabs Spiderman, and carefully takes him out of the ruins before returning to Tony. The billionaire waits as the suit scans for possible ways to safely move the concrete off of him, but when moments pass with no movement, Tony frowns.

"Hey! Hey! Today Spudicus!" Tony says to get Rescue's attention.

"There's a problem." Harley says. "Moving any of this could bring more down."

"Shit. Can Thumbelina be spared?" Tony asks and swears quietly when Harley shakes his head.

"Scott's down."

"Great. That means Porcupine isn't an option either."

"Yeah. Mom and Quill are pretty pissed right now." The teen elaborates before walking closer and gripping onto the slab of concrete on Tony's leg. "If you move the piece on your chest while I move this, we have maybe three seconds to get out."

"We're doing it." Tony grunts as he prepares to shove away the rubble on his chest. "On three."

Tony starts the count, and as soon as he gets to three, he and Harley both shove the rubble off and immediately fly toward the exit as the building groans loudly. More concrete crashes behind them, where Tony had previously been laying, and they barely manage to make it out of the collapsing building. The last moment had them rolling on the ground when some rubble clipped both Tony and Harley's suits, and they come to a stop against a nearby car, their breaths coming out in one woosh.

"Now I know why Mom is always yelling at you." Harley says when he catches his breath.

"Don't tell him. He might just kill me right now."

"TONY! ARE YOU CRAZY?!"

Tony cringes when Stephen flies over to them, his eyes still glowing green when he lands in front of the two, and the engineer allows his helmet to recede. The green glow in Stephen's eyes fades as he looks both his husband and son over (Harley had let his helmet recede as well), and then he rests his head on Tony's chest.

"I thought you and Peter were dead when I saw the building fall."

"Where is Peter?" Tony looks over at Harley and he points in the direction of the tower.

"Vis took him back home."

"Okay. Good. I'm assuming the invasion has been taken care of?" Tony looks around until Stephen looks up at him.

"Quill is cleaning up the stragglers but yes." The sorcerer then proceeds to smack the side of Tony's head.

"Ow! What was that for?!"

"For putting Harley in danger! You should have waited!"

"It was his idea!" Stephen's glare intensifies and Tony sighs. "I'm sorry tesoro. For what it's worth, I did ask about our resident dumbass couple first."

Stephen huffs. "Speaking of, Victor was able to scan Scott on my way over here. He's just knocked out. He should wake up soon to calm Quill."

"I hope so. I don't want to pay more money than I have to."

The three of them move to their feet and Tony hisses at the pain in his right arm. He had completely blocked out the pain when he and Peter were stuck, but now that they were safe again, his scars were flaring up painfully with a vengeance. He holds his arm to his chest in reflex, but Stephen gently grabs his arm and waits until the nanites crawl away to soothe the pain with magic. It was just a temporary spell. Stephen would focus more on it once they got back home and didn't have to worry about alien stragglers around them. As it was, one saw them just a couple of minutes ago and was preparing to attack them until a pillar of light erupted from the ground and skewed it. It was promptly thrown halfway down the street.

"Go home. I'll come as soon as Scott wakes up." Stephen says as he gently releases Tony's arm and the nanites cover it again. "Thor will stay behind just in case too."

For once, Tony didn't feel like arguing. His arm ached, he was hungry, and damn he wanted that stew even if he had to heat it up. With that thought in mind, he and Harley fly back to the tower while Stephen flies back in the direction he came from. When they landed and made their way up to the family floor, their armor crawls back into their housing units and Tony throws his stronger arm around Harley's shoulders.

"How is SARA working out for you?" He asks as they step off the elevator and Cassie hands them reheated dinner.

"Really helpful." Harley answers and sits at the table.

"She's only connected to FRIDAY right now but maybe in the morning we can get her connected to Victor and Karen. We'll get her integrated to your room too. Sound good?" Tony says and Harley nods when he finds himself unable to verbally answer. Mouth full of stew and all.

"Totally would not recommend being pistol whipped. Thanks for asking." Peter says from his spot at the table, one hand holding an ice pack to his head, and the other holding his spoon. "I have a killer headache."

Tony rolls his eyes. "I'm sure Brucie gave you some pain killers. Besides, much better than being a smear on the ground. You're welcome."

The boys continue to snark at each other and the girls (Cassie and Dia) just roll their eyes as they clean up and reheat dinner for the rest of the arriving team. It was nothing new. There was always some kind of bickering afterwards, as well as some gushing if someone did something particularly noteworthy (like Quill playing baseball with a piece of rebar and a grenade that one time), and it was no surprise that Harley became a part of it. Today may have been his first time on the field, but Tony had worked with him so Harley knew how to use the suit in emergencies. That's really what the suit was for for now, but eventually Harley would be a new addition to the team.

Stephen wasn't exactly happy, but he eventually relented when Tony said the suit was only going to be for emergencies until Harley was basically wearing it like a second skin and using it like Tony. Mama Bear will put his foot down with no doubt when it came to Diana though. Not that Tony wanted to put any of his kids in danger, but he didn't have a choice with Peter, and Harley was extremely stubborn. Thankfully Diana seemed content to stay behind with Cassie (and the Barton kids when they were visiting). Sometimes she got scared when her entire family had to go save the world for the millionth time, but Cassie was really good about calming her down and distracting her. The team taught her what to do in case the tower was in danger of being attacked while they were gone as well.

"You can't keep blowing your lid every time I get touched!" Scott grumbles as he steps through a portal that Stephen had opened and Quill huffs.

"You were hit by a plasma ray!"

"Oh please. I heard about the time you went into god mode when I tripped and knocked myself out." Scott glares at everyone. "You're not allowed to laugh."

A few sniggers still went around the table anyway as they sat down to eat. "To be fair, I was already pissed off that time." Quill says.

Clint grins. "I wanna hear about Tic-tac's klutz moment."

"NO!"

Stephen sighs and looks at Tony and motions toward his right arm. "How's the pain?"

"Bearable until after dinner." Tony answers truthfully, and the sorcerer nods before turning his attention to his dinner and a book he seemingly pulled from nowhere. Which he probably did.

Leave it to Stephen to be able to read with all the talking and bickering going on.

#ironstrange #mama bear stephen strange #stephen strange #tony stark #peter parker #supremefamily #scott lang #peter quill #antlord #harley keener #cassie lang #clint barton #diana stark strange (oc) #rhodey

[ladyboltontoyou]

Arthur Morgan x Reader: Blown Away

Ask: Can you write where Arthur's s/o has daddy issues, like he's really mean to her but Arthur like swoops in and takes her away from the abuse?

Warning: Cursing, domestic abuse, abuse from father, violence.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

A/N: Oh my gosh I got so emotional writing this I almost cried bye. Hope you like it!

The look he gave you was full of so much warning it sent shivers down your spine. His eyes were narrowed and his jaw was clenched, but the look of disgust was nothing new to you. “Be kind to these men, you hear? Smile for ‘em, and if they want anything you best give it to them.”

You nodded and looked past him to see three men riding up to your farm on horseback. You wanted to implore about them but your father spoke again before you could.

“They’ll be staying with us for a few nights. Paying them back for some business they did for me a few years back.”

“Why do they need to stay with us?” You asked timidly as the men approached the front porch you stood on.

“Nothing that concerns you.” His voice was poison. You knew if you didn’t shut up you’d be paying for it later. “Friends!” His tone changed completely as he walked down the steps to greet his old friends. “It’s been too long!”

The middle-aged man that had a fancy mustache slid off his horse and embraced your father in a hug. You hoped they were nothing like him. It was hard enough dealing with one evil man. Three more and you’d surely die. Literally. Especially if they drank like he did.

“How’ve you been?” The man asked as they parted from the hug. “This your wife?” He said and all four of them looked at you.

Your father laughed loudly and clapped the man on the back. “For god's sake, no! You think I’d marry her by choice?” He continued laughing and the youngest man looked at you with a confused expression. Your father noticed the awkwardness in the air and turned to you. “Aw, she knows I’m just joking. Don’t you, (Y/N)?”

You put on a fake smile and laughed with him, nodding. “Of course!”

That seemed to satisfy him enough. The oldest man and youngest still seemed to be uncomfortable, but the man with black hair didn’t think too much of it.

“(Y/N), these are some old friends of mine. This is Dutch,” He put his hand on the man’s shoulder and he tipped his hat at you with a small smile. “This up here is old man Hosea,” He pointed up at the oldest man. He smiled sweetly at you and gave you a quiet ‘how do you do’. You went to answer but your father already moved on to the youngest. “And this is Arthur.”

Arthur walked over to you and actually shook your hand. You were caught off guard by the politeness and nervously shook his hand, noting how warm and comforting it felt around yours.

“You look just like your mother.” He said and you couldn’t help but smile. Your mother was a beautiful woman.

You didn’t see it, but your father was shooting daggers your way. Maybe it was a good thing you were swooning so much over the blue-eyed man that you didn’t notice.

***

“I hope you know he was lying.”

You stopped cutting the carrots and froze as your father walked up behind you. You had been cutting up vegetables for dinner and had almost been done. All that needed to be done was the carrots.

“You look nothing like her.” His breath was hot on your neck and smelt of whiskey. Already? You weren’t surprised. “He just said that to butter you up for when he gets drunk and desperate.”

You had no idea how to respond so you continued cutting carrots. That upset him. He spun you around and grabbed the knife from your hand, stabbing it in the cutting board behind you. A small shriek sounded from you and he snorted.

“You know I don’t like when you ignore me.” He spat and you looked anywhere but in his eyes. He hated that too. There was nothing you wanted to do more than run and hide but that simply wasn’t an option. But what were you supposed to say?

“I’m sorry, sir.” You looked at his shoes.

His lips turned up into a smirk and he pushed himself away from you, walking over to the pot of stew on the counter. “If there’s one thing you can do, it’s make good food. Be glad about that. It’s the only reason I haven’t sold you to the o’driscoll gang yet.”

Yet.

Outside the kitchen Arthur listened with a heavy heart, his lips twitching from not only anger but frustration. The urge to set your father straight was strong, but he knew there was nothing he could do. Right?

***

Over dinner, the four men talked fondly about their past adventures. Apparently, your father used to run with their gang when he was younger, having to leave when he got your mother pregnant.

“You were one of the best men we had.” Dutch said sadly. The other men didn’t share his thoughts, though. Hosea remembered a different man than Dutch described. He remembered a drunk who slept with many other women, killed innocent people, even children. He could be compared to Micah in a way. Sadistic, evil, all around nasty. He had no idea how a woman as sweet as your mother could have fallen in love with him.

You didn’t remember much of your mother. Your father said she went missing. Seemed to vanish in thin air. You had heard a few rumors that he killed her when she threatened to take you and leave. Maybe that’s what happened. It wasn’t hard to believe. If he could hurt his own child the way he did, hurting his wife was not far off.

“You ain’t eating much. Not hungry, dear?”

You looked up from your tiny bowl of soup. Across the table Hosea looked at you with a concerned gaze. How sweet. It made your heart hurt. You wished you could tell him how hungry you were, and that your father wouldn’t let you eat in fear of you getting ‘fat and ugly’.

“No, I have a small appetite. I always eat like a bird.” You faked a smile and glanced at the head of the table to your father. He was watching you with eagle eyes, and Arthur noticed the exchange.

Hosea knew something was wrong. He looked at your father and noticed how hard he was staring at you. With your best interest in mind, he pretended to believe you.

The conversation carried on, mostly just between Dutch and your father. When dinner was finally over you took everyone’s dishes to the kitchen to clean them.

Looking down at Arthur’s half empty bowl you felt your stomach growl.

You glanced around. You were alone. Finally. You ate the rest of his soup so fast you almost choked.

“Slow down, it’s not going anywhere.”

The spoon in your hand slipped from your grasp and fell onto the floor. You whirled around to see Arthur standing in the kitchen doorway. He looked concerned. You wanted to beg for him to take you away from there and never look back.

“You alright?” He asked and walked into the kitchen. You instinctively took a step back and he froze in his tracks, raising his hands. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He knew. There was no way he couldn’t. Why else would he tell you he wasn’t going to harm you? By saying that he was acknowledging that someone was hurting you. The bruises on your wrists and shoulders seemed to throb in that moment of tense silence.

“Is there something going on here you want to tell me about?”

Your heart raced. ‘Yes, there is. He hurts me. He beats me. Please take me away from here before he kills me.’ It was everything you wanted to say. 

You opened your mouth to speak but then your father walked in the room. “Arthur, there you are! Come on, we’re having a drink outside round the fire.”

A lump formed in your throat and you turned to face the pile of dishes on the counter. Had you really been about to tell him? Were you that stupid? What was he going to do, take you away? Your eyes burned with fresh tears and you clenched your fists.

“Oh, uh, alright.” You heard Arthur say after a few seconds. He took one last look at you before following your father outside.

When you heard the door shut you fell to your knees and burst into tears.

***

The next day Arthur and Hosea had gone out of their way for you. Smiling every time they saw you, giving you lots of compliments, helping you with chores and making sure you and your father were never alone. Dutch didn’t seem to know what was going on at all, as if he was blind to the blatant abuse.

When nightfall came they all shared more drinks outside around the fire. You were in your room trying to sleep when your father stumbling in, ranting about how you were a slut.

“What are you talking about?” You cried out as he yanked you out of bed by your bicep. The old bruises there had just begun to heal.

“You think I don’t see the way you and Arthur look at each other? You’ve already fucked him, haven’t you?”

“No, sir, I promise, he’s just kind!” You protested and tried to squirm out of his grasp.

A sharp crack filled the air and your cheek stung as if you had been burned. You were stunned for a moment.

“What do you think is gonna happen?” He seethed through gritted teeth. “You think he’s gonna take you away from here? No. Tomorrow morning he’s gonna leave without looking back. He won’t even say goodbye. You’ll never see him again, I’ll make sure of that.” He let go of your wrist and you fell backward onto the floor. The thud could be heard from downstairs.

He shook his head and snorted. “You’re never getting away from here.”

He left just like he came in.

***

The bruise was bad. Your shoulder never looked more black. And your face, god. You ran your fingertips over your red cheek as you looked in the mirror. That would be an awful bruise. Tomorrow your face would surely be purple and blue. As if your father didn’t already think you were ugly. Maybe he’d use that as another excuse to beat you.

Outside you could hear your father saying goodbye to his old friends. The sound made tears form in your eyes. What did you expect? Your father was right. They didn’t even say goodbye. Not even Hosea.

After they left you got another verbal beating from your father. His words were so harsh you thought you’d die from the pain. How could he say those things to you? He used to be nice when your mother was around. Well, nicer. He didn’t make you cry.

“Now go make dinner. It better be the best damn steak I’ve ever had or you’ll be packing your things and heading off you know where.” He said before leaving you a crying mess in the corner of your room.

“Maybe I’ll poison you.” You sputtered through the tears as you listened to him walking downstairs. “Why? Why?” Another wave of sobs shook through your chest and you slid down the wall to your knees. “Why me?”

***

He passed out drunk before dinner was even ready. You finished cooking anyways, just in case he woke up. When you were done you stepped outside to get a breath of fresh air.

The stars looked beautiful. Your mother used to love showing you the stars when you were sad.

“God, I wish you were still here.” You leaned against the porch and swallowed down the lump threatening to close off your throat.

Suddenly you heard something at the bottom of the porch. You walked to the edge to see the last man you’d expected to see. Arthur Morgan crept up to the porch and offered you his hand, not saying a single word.

A little ways away you could see a few other people on horseback along with Arthur’s empty steed. Hosea, Dutch, those two you recognized. Then there was a blonde woman with an intimidating shotgun, a man with a face full of scars, and another man with red hair. At the sight of them, your heart jumped out of your chest. Were they all here to help you? Hosea gave you a kind smile and you smiled back in disbelief. 

You looked back down to his face and then to the house behind you. That was the last thing you needed to see. There was nothing you even needed to take.

You took Arthur’s hand and left.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan imagines #arthur morgan imagine #Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption imagine #Red dead redemption imagines #rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 imagines #rdr2 imagine #myfanfic #request #hosea #dutch #dutch van der linde #hosea matthews

[katedoesfics]

Shadows of the Yiga | Chapter 6

Aryll went home Saturday night, and though she had the entire weekend to recover from her drunken adventures on Friday night, she still felt like complete shit when Monday morning came. She was groggy and tired, despite almost sleeping the weekend away. She and Link barely spoke when they returned home, but she felt too ashamed to even look at him, anyway, and didn't want to have any kind of conversation about the situation with him. To her relief, he didn’t pry. If things were different – if her father were alive – she would have surely been grounded. Link, however, never dared to try to ground her, but simply stewed in his own anger whenever she did something stupid. She was sure that was how he spent his weekend, and was probably happy not to have to parent her.

She barely made it through her first two classes when she was stopped in the hall heading to her third class. She immediately recognized the adult as the school's counselor, and she couldn't help the groan and cuss that escaped her throat.

Mrs. Chen raised a brow at her but made no other comment about her inappropriate language. “Aryll,” she started. “I was hoping I could borrow a few moments of your time?”

Aryll hesitated as she quickly tried to come up with an excuse. “You know, I think I have a test in my next class.”

The counselor smiled. “I'm sure your teacher will let you make it up. I'll write you a note myself. I promise it won't take long.”

Aryll shifted her books in her arms. “Well, I'm sure I don't have a choice,” she muttered.

Mrs. Chen held her smile. “Come on,” she said. “Let's go to my office.”

Aryll rolled her eyes, but followed the woman, dragging her feet begrudgingly as she did so. When they reached her office, she took a seat in front of the desk, slouching back in the chair as she waited for the counselor to close the door and sit behind her large desk like the professional she thought she was.

“Is this about Ren? Because I'm not apologizing for punching him. Idiot had it coming.”

Mrs. Chen shifted through some pages on her desk, not meeting Aryll's gaze. “No,” she said with a sigh. “I figured I wouldn't even bother with that one.”

Aryll grinned. It seemed she was making a name for herself in school if even the counselor wasn't going to bother scold her anymore. “Don't worry,” she said smugly. “I'll try to make your life easy, just as long as those fuckers learn to keep their mouths shut.”

Mrs. Chen folded her hands on her desk and looked up at Aryll. She offered a small smile, choosing to ignore the clearly rebellious teen's behavior. “How's everything at home?”

Aryll groaned loudly and rolled her eyes. “Here it comes. Can we just get to the point? Why am I here?”

“You're here because of your actions on Friday night,” Mrs. Chen said frankly, the smile disappearing.

“Friday night?”

She pointed a finger down at one of the papers on her desk. “You and your friends were drinking, which was your first offence. You also stole a car, your second offence, and drove while intoxicated, offence number three. Not to mention the fact that you got into a very serious accident that could have claimed your lives.”

“It wasn't stolen,” Aryll said with a loud groan. “It was Romani's mom's car!”

“Taken without permission,” Mrs. Chen continued. “But that’s hardly the worst of the situation.”

“What's your point?”

“This is unlike you, Aryll. These last few months, your behavior has completely changed. And it's my job to figure out why and get you back on track. You're a straight A student, Aryll. You're better than this.”

“I hardly see how what I do outside of school is any of your concern.”

“The well-being of all the students here are my concern,” she said, her brows furrowing slightly. “When things are hard at home, students tend to rebel.”

“What makes you think that's me?” Aryll accused.

Mrs. Chen cocked her head to the side. “Well, it can't be easy to be in your shoes,” she said. “To be without a mother and a father.”

“That's not it,” she said. “You're talking about Link.”

“Is there something going on with Link?”

“Look,” Aryll said frankly, sitting forward in her seat. “I'm sorry you weren't good enough to become an actual shrink or whatever. You're stuck here in a hormonal infested high school where you're stuck with the greasy-haired goths that just want to write song lyrics about how they're going to kill themselves. That's gotta be the lowest of the low in your line of work. So let me cut to the chase and do your job for you. You think life sucks so much for poor Aryll. She's got not mother, no father, and an ex-hero of a brother who is clearly just as fucked up as she is, maybe worse. PTSD, depression, alcoholism, you name it. It's no secret. And someday, he'll either drink himself to death, or OD, or maybe just straight up kill himself, and then poor little Aryll will have no one left, and she won't be able to handle that, and she'll follow in her brother's sad, pathetic footsteps, and that will be the end of that.”

The counselor held her gaze on Aryll as she spoke, and when she finished, her forehead creased in concern. “Is that what you think will happen?”

Aryll hesitated, her words lingering in her mind after her outburst. She replayed them over and over, and each time she realized just how much of a possibility that situation seemed to be. She burst into tears at that moment and pulled her legs to her chest to hide her face in her knees. She sobbed and her body shook. She let the tears flow despite wanting to seem stronger than she was. She didn't quiet until she heard Mrs. Chen shifting in her seat, and when she looked up, the counselor had the phone in her hand, her finger hovering over the numbers.

Aryll lunged across the desk, knocking the phone out of the woman's hand. “No, please!” she begged as she fell against the desk and continued to sob. “Don't call anyone. Don't call Link. Don't call someone to take me out of here in a straight jacket. Don't call anyone. Please.”

The counselor hesitated, looking Aryll over, then replaced the phone. “You realize that it is my job to report students with suicidal tendencies.”

“I'm not suicidal!” Aryll barked. She dragged herself off of the desk and fell into the chair, feeling exhausted. “I'm not, I swear. I'm not. I'll talk to Link, okay? I'll do whatever. Just don't call him. Don't call anyone. Just... just...” She broke into another sob. “Don't take him away from me. Please.”

Mrs. Chen frowned down at Aryll. “What would you like me to do?”

Aryll shook her head. “I don't know,” she muttered, still avoiding the counselor's gaze. “Let me... let me do this. Let me talk to him. He'll listen to me. He'll do anything for me. I can fix this.”

“Can you?” The counselor paused, but Aryll said nothing. “That's a lot of pressure for a sixteen year old girl.”

Aryll pinched her lips together, but said nothing.

“Aryll, you've been through more shit than most people have in their entire life,” Mrs. Chen said frankly. “No one expects you to be able to do it alone.”

Aryll stood and wiped at her eyes. “Can I go now?”

Mrs. Chen hesitated, then sighed. “Alright,” she said simply. “But I'd like to see you on a regular basis. At least once a week. Can we do that?”

“Do I have a choice?” Aryll muttered.

The counselor smiled. “I'll see you next week, Aryll.” She watched as Aryll left her office without another word. When the door was closed, she reached for the phone and dialed.

*****

Link stared at his computer screen, but the words and numbers seemed unrecognizable. He couldn't make heads or tails of anyone of it, but he wasn't exactly trying, either. No, he was simply staring, his mind empty. He wanted to close his eyes and sleep forever, and for a moment, he thought of doing just that. Or, at the very least, putting his head on his desk and hoping no one came to bother him. He had done it before. It was easy enough to hide in a cubicle and catch a quick nap. But life had other plans, the ringing phone causing him to nearly jump out of his chair.

He rubbed his eyes, letting it ring twice more before answering it. “Yeah?”

“Link, it's Mrs. Chen, the school counselor.”

Link's heart jumped. “What? What's wrong? Is Aryll okay?”

“Yes, she's fine. Actually, she just left my office. We had a little chat.”

Link blinked at the wall. “Huh? Why? About what?” He listened as the women spoke, and his heart sank. He nodded his head and verbally acknowledge that he had heard her and understood, but the world seemed to move forward without him, and before he realized it, he was hanging up, the conversation over. He stared at the phone for a moment before jumping out of his seat, grabbing his jacket and flinging it over his shoulder as he ran across the office.

“What's the hurry, Hero?” Sera said with a grin, but it disappeared quickly when she caught his urgency. “What's wrong?”

“I'm sorry, Sera,” he said simply, but she knew too well what he needed of her.

“Alright,” she called after him as he ran for the door. “You get one more of these!”

Link didn't know what to do with himself when he got home. There was still a couple hours before Aryll actually came home. He considered going right to the school to pick her up and give her the rest of the day off, but he thought better of it, figuring she wouldn't want to be bothered. Still, it didn't ease his worrying, and every situation imaginable found its way into his head. What if she didn't come home at all? What if she was hurt? What if she hurt herself? Or someone hurt her?

He tried to drown out the thoughts with tv. He stretched out on the couch, then curled up into the corner, tossing and turning every which way, unable to get comfortable, or get away from the thoughts that haunted him. Finally, he made his way into the kitchen, where he started for the fridge to get a beer, but then thought better of that. Aryll was upset – seeing him with a beer wouldn't help the situation.

So he opted to shift through the unopened mail on the counter, but that only brought him more distress. Overdue bills, an unpaid mortgage, what if the house was foreclosed? Could he find an apartment cheap enough for the two of them? Or would they just be stuck living like trolls under a bridge?

He moved to the table where he sat and instead opted to bury his face in his hands. It wasn't long after that when Aryll finally came home, looking just as tired and ragged as he felt. She hesitated in the doorway when she saw her brother, then let it close softly behind her.

“She called you,” she said simply.

Link glanced at her from over his hands. He let his hand drag down his face, and he paused for a moment to scratch at his chin. He needed to shave. Or maybe he'd just let the beard grow in. He stretched his legs out under the table. He was avoiding the conversation. “Yeah,” he finally said.

“Oh.” Aryll dropped her bag on the floor but did not move from where she stood. “What... did she tell you?”

“Everything.” Link assumed it was everything, anyway. Mostly, he was waiting to see how Aryll would react.

Aryll pulled her gaze away, then sat herself at the table across from him. But still, she did not regard him. She chewed on her lower lip for a moment before she spoke. “Oh.”

Link hesitated. His brows furrowed as he held his gaze on his sister. “So, is that what you think's going to happen?”

Aryll shrugged a shoulder. “Is that what's going to happen?” She met his gaze. When Link didn't answer, her heart dropped. She stared helplessly at her brother.

“Link!”

“Nothing's going to happen,” he muttered, pulling his gaze away.

Aryll stood suddenly. “I'll believe it when you mean it!” she shouted at him.

“I mean it!” Link shouted back. “For the love of Hylia, I'm not going anywhere!”

For the second time that day, Aryll broke down. She covered her face with her hands, dropped to her knees, and sobbed. She continued to sob as Link hurried to her and took her in his arms. She let him pull her into his chest where she cried harder, and he held her tight.

“I'm sorry,” she said between sobs. She was finding it more difficult to breathe as she continued to cry, no longer able to control any of it. “I don't know what's happening. I don't know what to do. What do I do? What do you want me to do?”

Link pressed his face into her hair. “I'm sorry, Aryll,” he muttered. “You don't have to do anything, okay?”

“I have to,” she sobbed. “I’m just… I’m so scared, Link. I don’t want to be alone.”

“You’re not,” he said to her, hugging her tighter. “I promise you, Aryll. You will never be alone. I promised you that, and I won’t break that promise. Ever.”

Her body shook as she sobbed. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “For Friday night. For everything. For being a burden. I’m sorry.”

“Stop it,” he growled. “You’re not a burden.” He hesitated. “Please don’t do that to me again. I can’t lose you, too.”

Aryll nodded against him, unable to speak as she continued to sob.

“All I wanted to do was give you a normal life,” he said softly.

“I know,” she whispered. “I just. I took that and threw it in your face. I’m sorry.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry, too. For everything.”

Her crying quieted after a moment. She didn’t move from his arms. She listened to his heart beat and closed her eyes.

******

Link lost track of time. He didn't know how long they sat on the kitchen floor. All he knew was that it was very late, and he was seriously thinking of calling out of work, and maybe even letting Aryll skip school. As the night went on, her sobbing had quieted, and she eventually fell asleep against him. Link didn't dare move or wake her. His fingers stroked her hair absentmindedly as he stared into the darkness. For a moment, she shifted and murmured something indiscernible. Link let his fingers rest in her palm and she quieted once more.

But her eyes opened at his touch and she blinked in the darkness. Her fingers curled around his and she sighed softly through her nose. It was a simple gesture, his hand in hers, but in the time since their father’s death, it had become an unspoken reassurance between them; a reminder that they were not alone. That they still had each other. That the other was still very much a presence in their lives. It was a promise. One they both held dearly.

She pressed closer to her brother. “Link.”

Link wrapped his arms tightly around her. “I’m here,” he said softly. “I promise. I won’t leave you, okay?”

Aryll nodded silently. “I miss Dad,” she said after a moment.

“Me too.”

“And Mipha.”

Link sighed softly. “Me too.”

“You know,” she started after a quiet moment. “I always knew what you were doing when you ran off in the middle of the night. Or when you came home with torn, bloodied shirts. Dad never said anything to me, but I knew that my brother was a hero, that he was saving the world.” She hesitated. “It scared the shit out of me. It scared the shit out of Dad. But I knew you would be okay. I just had this feeling, I guess, that everything would be okay. That you would make everything okay.” She sighed softly. “I guess it never occurred to us that things wouldn't always be okay, even after the war was won. You gave up everything, for this world, and for me, and you never got so much as a thanks.”

“I don't need thanks,” he said. “If I wanted anything in return at all, I wouldn't have gone through all this bullshit.”

Aryll smiled. “I guess that's your problem. You're too selfless.”

“I really thought that would get me further in life.”

Aryll let her head rest against him. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Link shrugged. “I didn't do it for you. I did it for me. I didn't want to lose anyone else. See? I'm selfish.”

Aryll laughed lightly. “I think you deserve to be a little selfish.” She paused. “We don't even have to stay here. We could go anywhere. Who would stop us?”

“You need to finish school.”

“But I can do that anywhere.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But you don't have much longer.”

“I guess.” She closed her eyes. “As long as we're together.”

He kissed her head. “I promise.”

Aryll nodded. “And Mipha.” She turned her gaze to him. “Don’t push her away.”

Link’s brows furrowed and he turned away from his sister. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s really not,” she said. “You think you’re doing her favors, but you’re not. You’re not doing anyone any favors.” She forced a smile. “I mean, you’re a mess without her. Why don’t you just let her be there? For you?” Her smile grew. “She’s your hero.”

“Being a hero is a lot of pressure,” he said. “I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“I think true heroes have the strength to handle those kinda things,” she said. “Sometimes, even the most unlikely people.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he said. “That doesn’t mean she’ll take me back, though.”

“She will,” Aryll said.

“You seem pretty sure of that.”

Aryll shrugged and smiled. “I just know these things.”

#soty #soty6 #chapter 6 #shadows of the yiga #botw #loz #fic #fanfic #legend of zelda #breath of the wild

[timehealsfanfictionbka]

Time Heals..... Chapter Fourteen

“Well, Hey Stranger.”

Chris smiled as Robyn’s door was opened, “hey Bajan Girl.”

Robyn smiled as she leaned against the door frame, “How you been?”

“I’m good. You?”

“Same. What brings you by so early? The girls aren’t here.”

“Oh, I know. I actually came to talk to you.”

“Oh, well come in, I was just starting on dinner.”

“So early?”

“It’s stewed oxtails, it’s gonna be on for a while.”

“Oh ok.”

“You eat lunch yet?”

“Nah.”

“Cool, we can have lunch then.”

Chris followed Robyn inside and closed the door behind him. He was a little uncomfortable though. He knew she was trying to be more cordial and friendlier to him but she was being way too nice. He followed her to the kitchen and sat down at the table. Robyn moved to her cabinets and grabbed two bowls and two glasses. Chris watched as she dished something into the two bowls then poured some kind of juice that was in a pitcher on her island into the two glasses before making her way over to the kitchen table. Setting one bowl, a spoon and a glass in front of him, she sat the other in front of her seat before sitting down, “so what’d you want to talk about?”

“Nothing specific. Really just wanted to check on you.”

“Sure you didn’t want to talk about your wife calling me yesterday?”

“I’d really rather not know about that.”

Robyn chuckled, “why not? The conversation was rather interesting.”

“I’m sure it was.”

“You coming to dinner with us?”

“Us who?”

“Me and Tiana.”

“Hell naw.”

Robyn burst out laughing, “why you say it like that?

“I don’t want to see her and definitely not both of y’all together.”

“Why you don’t want to see her?”

“She’s really playing a game with this shit and I’m really over it.”

“Chris, she wants to speak with me before making a decision, how is that a game?”

“I don't see what you have to do with whether me and her stay married or not. Did she explain to you her logic behind this?”

“Yea and as a woman, I understand. Do I think she’s overthinking this? Absolutely but she’s allowed.”

“She really thinks me and you are gonna end up together.”

“Look, it’s crazy but it’s still a logical question to ask. She isn’t me and you, she can’t read our minds and definitely not mine. If me telling her in person that I have no interest in being with you will make her feel better, it’s the least I can do especially since I kinda played a part in turning her life upside down.”

“Are you fucking somebody?”

Robyn spit out her drink onto the table. Chris didn’t even flinch as he leaned forward on his hands and waited for an answer.

“What would make you ask that?”

“You are way too calm and nice right now. So either you smoking or somebody finally fucked the edge off. Which is it?”

“How about neither?

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why not?”

“I know you, Robyn and you are never this nice unless….well, you know.”

“No, I don’t know, Christopher. Whatever do you mean?”

Chris’s brow furrowed and Robyn chuckled, “you’re being like this just to fuck with me, aren’t you?

“No. I just figured you had enough on your plate dealing with Tiana and decided not to be difficult for  a while.”

Chris felt his body softened as he smiled at her, “really?”

“Yes really. I can be nice when I wanna be, Christopher.”

Chris didn’t want to feel something when she said his full name but that had always been a thing for him.

“Don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

“My full name. Don’t do that.”

“Why?”

Chris raised his brow at her and took a sip of his drink. Robyn frowned for a bit then her eyes widened as she remembered why he didn’t want her saying his full name.

“Oh. Forgot about that.”

“I did too until you kept saying Christopher.”

“Sorry.”

“No need. It was a long time ago. So are you really going to dinner with Tiana?”

“Why not? Might as well get it over with now. It’s not like we aren’t run into each other occasionally.”

“That’s true.”

“Do you not want me to go?”

“Would you not if I said I didn’t want you to?”

“I’d think about it.”

“But do it anyway.”

“You know me so well.”

Chris laughed as he ran his hand over his head, “Too well.”

“You ok?”

“Yea, I guess.”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“I’m not.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I really don’t know what I feel.”

“Maybe you do know what you feel but you don’t know how to verbalize it.”

“That might be it.”

“So stop thinking about it so hard and just say whatever is on your mind.”

“Tiana thinks I’m in love with you.”

“Are you?”

“No.”

“So why are you stressing over it?”

“Because she doesn’t believe me.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“I really don’t know. I can be honest and say I do care alot about you and your happiness and comfort does matter to me but that doesn’t mean the same thing as being in love.”

“Why do you think she does?”

Chris paused then shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t-”

“Chris you know, that’s why you paused. You don’t have to find the right words to say right now, just say it.”

“She thinks I care more about your comfort and happiness than I do hers.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“Because I won’t tell her about our friendship.”

“What exactly does she want to know?”

“I really don’t know and she won’t tell me.”

“Well put yourself in her shoes, what would you want to know if you found out your wife slept with her best friend one time?”

“I guess if it was planned.”

“Ok. Was it?”

“No.”

“Ok then tell her that.”

“I did.”

“That it wasn’t planned or that it was just a drunken incident?”

“It was a drunken incident.”

“Not the same as it wasn’t planned.”

“But it wasn’t. We went out, we got drunk, we fucked.”

“That’s not specific enough. We fucked. What were you thinking? When you got sober, what did you do?”

“I wasn’t thinking anything, that’s the problem.”

“You sure?”

“Robyn, what are you getting at?”

“Your wife asked me something and I wasn’t sure how to answer her but what she said makes sense.”

“What?”

“Why didn’t we stop?”

“Stop what?”

“When we started having sex, why didn’t we stop?”

“She asked me that too but I really don’t understand.”

“Chris, I look nothing like Tiana. Nothing at all. So at some point, you knew it wasn’t her you were sleeping with. And at some point, I knew it was you that I was sleeping with. Why didn’t we stop?”

“I don’t know.”

“Really?”

“Yes really. These are some Jeopardy level questions and I’m barely Smarter than a Fifth Grader right now.”

Robyn laughed, “Honestly, I think until we are able to answer that question, she’s gonna always be uncomfortable with us being around each other. She’s never gonna trust you as much as she should.”

“All because we didn’t stop?”

“Chris, if you take us out the equation, you’ve gotta admit it’s the right question to ask. If we could so easily let that happen because of a few drinks, what’s to stop it from happening again? Other than never drinking around each other.”

“Bajan Girl, I never gave it that much thought.”

“I hadn’t either until she brought it up.”

Chris sighed, “I guess we got soul searching to do, huh?”

“You do. I’m not married to her so my answer doesn’t matter that much.”

“Oh no, she is not gonna let you off the hook that easy. And neither am I.”

“Why?”

“I want to know the answer too.”

“How about you answer something for me first?”

“What?”

“You told me that you didn’t tell Tiana because you had already lost enough. What did you mean by that?”

“Nothing.”

“Chris, you meant something. We’re being completely honest with each other right now.”

“Ok, I’ll answer that if you answer something for me.”

“What?”

“Did you not tell me about the girls because you really hated me or because you were still in love with me?”

Robyn blew out a breath, “honestly, both. You were my friend and meant everything to me, feelings like that don’t just disappear but at the same time, I felt abandoned by you so my love and hate existed in tandem.”

“Well, I had lost you and your friendship, I really couldn’t risk anything else at that point.”

They both fell silent for a moment as their conversation had started to sink in. Chris knew he had to go to dinner with her and Tiana, he had to explain but a part of him knew things would never go back the way they were regardless of what questions they answered.

Robyn didn’t know how to feel about Chris’s answer. She really thought he had just forgotten about her but her absence actually did mean something to him at one time. That bothered her for some reason.

“I guess I’m gonna have to go to this dreaded dinner,” Chris murmured.

“Look, I am not looking forward to spilling my guts to her either but...it's not fair for you to take the blame for something that wasn’t all your fault.”

“Now, I’m really convinced you fucking somebody because this is just too weird.”

Robyn laughed, “Oh my God, is me being nice bothering you that much?”

“Yes, it’s making me paranoid.”

“Why can’t I just decide to be nice?”

“Because just a while ago you wanted to bite my head off, now you’re treating me like we’re friends again.”

“Aren’t we?”

“I don’t know. We never really discussed it.”

“Do you want to be my friend again?”

“Absolutely, if that’s ok with you?”

“It’s fine with me. I’m over it. We just gotta fix your marriage then we can move on completely.”

“Wait, so that means you accepted my apology?”

“Yes, I accepted your apology.”

Robyn squealed as Chris jumped up and pulled her into a hug, “Chris!”

He started squeezing her and she figured she might as well give in to the hug since it seemed like Chris wasn’t gonna let her go anytime soon. She carefully wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him back. A few moments, he carefully set her back down on her feet, “Thank you.”

“Chris, why are you acting like this was life or death?”

“I have enough uncertain relationships in my life right now. I don’t want my relationship with our daughters to be the only healthy one I have.”

“You act like your life is gonna end if things don’t work out between you and Tiana. Is that how you feel?”

“I feel like a fuck up.”

“But you’re not. We all make mistakes, doesn’t mean we have to punish ourselves for it forever. You just gotta accept the consequences and learn from them, that’s all you can do.”

“I guess.”

“You’re really scared that she’s gonna divorce you, aren’t you?”

“Yea and I don’t know how to deal with that.”

“Awwww....you poor baby,” Robyn held open her arms and Chris leaned into them, “we’re friends and I’m not gonna let you fall apart, ok? We’ll answer her questions and I’ll do whatever you need me to so that we can keep this together and if that doesn’t work, I’ll do whatever to at least keep you together, ok?”

Chris nodded his head and Robyn rubbed his back, “Lawd...the twins are just as melodramatic. I got my work cut out for me.”

Chris playfully pinched her side, “I heard that.”

Robyn laughed as she pulled away, “it’s true. They got a lot more than their artistic talent from you, I surmise.”

“So what did they get from you?”

“My brains and good looks, what else?”

Chris scoffed and Robyn raised her brow, “don’t get unfriended after I just decided to friend you again.”

“This ain’t Facebook. You are stuck with me forever.”

Robyn laughed, “Now that’s the Chris I remember.”

Chris laughed then smiled as he ran the back of his hand down her cheek, “My Bajan Girl, I love you.”

“I know or else you wouldn’t be trying to be my friend again so bad.”

“A Thank you or I love you too would’ve worked just fine.”

“But I don’t love you just yet. I do like you though.  At least a little bit.”

“Just a little bit?”

“Just a little. Baby steps.”

“I can take that.”

Robyn smiled and Chris smiled back, “anything else you want to talk about?”

“Nah, I think we pretty much covered everything. Thank you.”

“No problem. What are friends for?”

“For awesome hugs.”

Robyn rolled her eyes, “I’ll hug you at the door or you’ll never leave my house.”

“You putting me out already?”

“There’s nothing here for you to do.”

“You don’t want to hang out with me?” Chris replied with a pout.

“VA, we both have some thinking to do before this dinner with Tiana. We should focus on that and hang out later.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Chris, you are not gonna use me for a distraction, ok?”

“I wasn’t trying to, just didn’t want to think about that serious stuff right now.”

“Which is another way of saying distraction. Don’t use your words games to try and confuse me.”

“I’m not.”

“Bye Chris.”

Robyn opened the front door and Chris leaned against the frame, “Before I go, is it cool if I get the girls from my mother’s and bring them back to my house? I wanna take them shopping for their rooms and everything.”

“That’s fine. Just call me when you get them so I remember and don't drive over to Mama J’s house for no reason.”

“That I can do.”

“So I guess I’ll see you in a few days.”

“The dinner is when?”

“Next Friday at some place in Houston, I’ll have to text you the name and time once I remember”

“Alright. You be safe, ok?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m good.”

Chris leaned in to hug her and Robyn quickly breathed in his scent. He kissed her temple and pulled back, “Thanks for everything.”

“I got you. Don’t worry.”

Chris nodded his head then left down the porch steps as Robyn closed the door.

#chrianna #timehealsfanfiction