#*half curtain bangs i should specify

[kairoscelrosis]

i have officially lost it.

[itgetsdark-x]

gruff dilf joel and younger snarky reader are sent on a mission out of jackson. they have a rough, long day of constant nitpicking and bitching (done worse by a shared horse). the reader is purposefully pressing his buttons because she wants to make him snap on her. they stop for the night at a safe house with one bed and filthy unprotected sex ensues. joel forces her into submission and her cockiness dissipates. super condescending and demeaning joel. breeding kink, pet names, the works 🙏🏼

A/N: what a return for me… pheewwww, this was hot to write ngl. I loved writing Joel as a bit more of an asshole and I just wanna say, I would do anything for snarky, gruff dilf joel… like literally anything. I hope this is okay for you, anon!

Summary: You were a skilled hunter, everyone in Jackson knew that and it often meant that you were sent out with someone just as skilled but not quite as young, Joel Miller.

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI! Breeding kink, praise kink, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (m & f receiving), degrading talk (depends on how u look at it), implied age gap (not specified), just a lot of smut and swearing tbh

Characters: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 7.6k (lol, I’m sorry!)

Sunlight seeped through the threadbare curtains of your house, the early morning light drowning your soft skin as you slept peacefully. Three loud bangs drew you from your slumber and you let out a groan as you stretched your limbs out, rubbing the remnants of sleep away from your eyes. 

“Get your ass up!” You heard the familiar voice shout from outside and you groaned again, shoving your face into your pillow. 

“Fuck off.” You yelled, knowing the older male would be able to hear you through your open window. 

“Would if I could.” He retorted. “I’m letting myself in through the back. Hurry up, sick of waiting for you.”

You rolled your eyes as you finally sat up in your bed, you heard the male enter your house downstairs and it immediately ignited anger in your bones. You stomped out of bed, grabbing your clothes and begrudgingly dressing yourself.

You gave your appearance a once over in the old mirror that hung pathetically on your walls and sighed at the dark circles under your eyes. After using your bathroom to freshen up, you traipsed down your stairs gruffly and shoved your feet into your worn boots. 

“Why are you here at the ass-crack of dawn, Miller?” You hissed, scowling at the male who sat on your old couch, his dirty boots carelessly resting on the coffee table in the middle of your lounge. 

“Aren’t you a ray of fuckin’ sunshine this morning.” He huffed. “Got a job to be getting on with, Maria and the guys gave me the instructions that we have to go run off some raiders. There’s a safe house half way that we can stay in tonight. Should be an easy job so long as you listen to me for once and get on with it.”

You groaned, loudly, as you bent down to lace up your boots; your old cargo trousers clung to the curve of your ass and thick, muscular thighs as you did so. Joel stood behind you, he couldn’t help but admire as the old material stretched as you moved. 

“Why exactly have I been instructed to work with you?” You shot back, turning to look at the male. 

Joel held a hand out as an offer to help you stand, you shot him a sour look, rolled your eyes and stood without a word. Joel clenched his jaw at your defiant behaviour and gently pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

“Do I look like I know, little girl? Look, I don’t wanna be working with you, just as much as you don’t wanna be working with me. So how about you quit your bitchin’, get the job done and go back to being a sour little brat by yourself.”

“God, I fucking hate you, Joel Miller.” You said harshly, shoving past him and bumping him with your shoulder. 

You grabbed your backpack off the floor, it was the one you always used when going on jobs or patrols; it had all your necessities that you kept restocked. You opened your front door, and ushered for Joel to leave your house, he narrowed his eyes at you and walked out. You left behind him and made sure your house was shut up properly before walking down the three steps that lead to your house. 

“Where’s the other horse?!” You asked, ludicrously as Joel swung himself onto the large horse. 

“Only got allocated one, ‘lotta raiders and people sniffing around Jackson at the moment so they got a lot more patrols going on. Sorry kiddo, either you’re hiking all day or sucking it up and getting on with me.” He shrugged, patting the horse gently. 

You sighed deeply to yourself, as if this job or day couldn’t get worse; you had to spend it with Joel Miller on one horse. 

You had known Joel for a while now, since your first day in Jackson in fact. Him and Tommy found you stumbling around outside the gates of Jackson, whilst they were out on patrol, they saw you were injured and luckily, the people of Jackson allowed you to take residence within their community. 

You couldn’t quite pinpoint when this long-standing feud started with the older of the Miller brother’s but it had been going on for sometime. You despised the male, he always acted like he knew what was best when it came to hunting or patrols, whatever he said was the golden way of doing things and it drove you insane. Maybe it was your twisted attraction to the older male that made your stomach twist and settle in deep anger; you hated the way your pulse would race when he was near or the way your eyes would hungrily drink in all the sharp lines of the males features. He was too old to be any good for you, you knew that and maybe, just maybe, that’s why you kept up this pretence of hatred. 

Tommy was a stark contrast of his older brother; he had kind eyes and soft features, he actually cared about other people within the community. Joel on the other hand, he just cared about getting the job done and done right first time so he could get back home to Ellie, the kid he had arrived in Jackson with. You didn’t really care to ask how or why but Ellie, for what it seemed, was a cool kid and that you had spoken to a handful of times. 

“Your choice but we gotta leave now, it’s a 50 mile ride east to the safe house and I don’t expect it to be an easy one.” Joel stated bluntly. 

“Fine. Fucking fine.” You hissed, slinging your backpack onto your back and holding your rifle over your shoulder. 

It was a known fact that you were one of the more skilled hunters and fighters in Jackson; you had been fighting for yourself your whole life, you didn’t have anyone to fight for you or to keep you alive so from a very young age, you had to do it yourself with whatever resources you could find. Joel seemed to hate it, he seemed to hate the fact that you were younger than him and seemingly, knew what you were doing. 

That’s why you always got paired up together; Joel was skilled but older, you were younger and fitter but still on his skill level at handling your firearms. 

You slung yourself onto the horse, holding Joel’s muscular arm for leverage as you steadied yourself on the back of the animal. Your body was pressed tightly to Joel’s, your legs meeting at the front as your torso pressed to his back. He gently kicked the horse and encouraged the animal to move. 

You rode in silence through the town and out of the gates of Jackson. You watched your surroundings carefully, keeping an ear out for any nearby movement; you had heard the stories recently of people not making it back from their patrols. The raiders nearby were increasing and they were getting desperate for a fraction of what you all had in Jackson. 

The peaceful sounds of nature filled your ears as you rode in silence; just the horses’ hooves on the soft ground and noises of nearby wildlife; birds chirped happily and it almost made you spit out a laugh. Those innocent creatures had no idea of the depressing state that the world lived in now, they couldn’t ever know what loss meant; your mind wandered and you felt the bitter acid of frustration rise in your throat. 

“Wanna ease up on your grip?” Joel huffed, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“What?” You spat before you realised your hands were gripping tightly at his waist; you eased your grip and kept one hand on him to steady yourself whilst your other hand rested on your thigh. “Sorry.” You mumbled sheepishly. 

“What’s causin’ you to have the death-grip on me, anyway? Not normally scared ridin’.” He laughed smugly. 

You shrugged, he felt the jolt of your shoulder so he knew what you did without seeing it. 

“Natures just… funny.” You laughed sourly. “These birds, chirping away and living their normal lives; they ain’t ever known any different whereas we have, y’know. We’ve all lost something, someone and they don’t know shit. Just makes me angry.”

Your voice trailed off at the end, the images of your parents being taken from you when you were just seven years old played in your head like a worn out cassette. It was painful to constantly think of your mother’s screams as she was torn apart. Or the way your father hid you and told you to remain quiet and that was the last time you saw him. 

“Yeah, well, that’s life, kid. It’s shit.” Joel shrugged back.

He never opened up about his loss, about his daughter, he didn’t see the need to. People who were closest to him knew and he remembered the beautiful memories of his daughter, for him, that was enough. He knew the way people whispered about him, he could even see the way some even pointed as he walked by. “There’s Joel Miller, yeah, Tommy’s brother, he’s the one that lost a daughter and turned up with that kid months after Tommy arrived with Maria.”

You didn’t respond to Joel, instead you huffed and went back to taking in your surroundings. You travelled in a, somewhat, comfortable silence for a couple of hours before Joel halted the horse. 

“Why are we stopping? We’re in the middle of the Forrest?” You snapped, finger hovering over your trigger as you scoped out the landscape through your weapon’s scope. 

“Needa eat, piss and you can take charge on leading the next stretch. Problem with that, little girl?” He snapped right back. 

You sighed and reluctantly climbed down off the horse, you took the reins and carefully attached them to a nearby branch so your horse would stay secured whilst you all took a moments rest. 

Joel grabbed food out of his pack and chucked a sandwich in your direction, you quickly caught it with one hand and shot the male a cocky smile. 

“Gotta be quicker than that, old man.” You smirked. 

He rolled his eyes and stretched out his back with a deep groan, he had himself turned away from you as he stretched. You eyes soaked up every inch of the male, from his salt and peppered locks, down to his broad shoulders and down even farther to the subtle curves of his ass and muscular legs. As he stretched a slither of tanned skin was exposed and you mentally cursed yourself for wondering what Joel’s body would feel like under your skilled hands. You couldn’t help as you wondered even further how the male would sound as he came, would it be gruff like his groans as he stretched out his aching limbs or would it sound more tender and soft.

You physically shook your head to rid the mental images that were drowning your mind and you absently took a bite of your food as your eyes still hungrily wandered over Joel’s physique. He turned back to you, catching your eyes and he smirked, knowing full well that he had just caught you checking him out. 

“You alright there, darlin’? Lookin’ a bit flustered.” He chuckled, cockiness dripping from his voice. 

“Fine. Just thinking about Grayson.” You lied. Grayson was your most recent boyfriend, well, fling. You had both agreed to use each other to scratch the itches that your hands didn’t satisfy anymore; he was fairly well known among Jackson, especially to the women there and you knew Joel hated the younger male. 

“Sure.” Joel said, unconvinced but not willing to push the matter any further right now. 

An icy silence fell between the two of you once again, you stared at your food and bitterly ate at it. Your eyes trailed up slowly and bored into the older male as he sat down on the ground to eat; your eyes followed the lines of his legs as he sat until they fixated on his bulge. Jackson was small, people talked, women especially talked. Joel wasn’t one to sleep around carelessly but even when the world had ended, everyone has needs and Joel knew how to fulfil them. You knew he had quite the reputation, apparently he had the equipment and he apparently knew exactly how to use it. 

You finished your food and threw the wrapper to the side, you stretched your legs out with a delicate groan and leant back onto your arms, taking a moment to relax before you had to be cramped up on the horse again with Joel. Your mind wandered once again as the silence between you both persisted, you wondered how Joel’s rough hands would feel; how they would feel wrapped around your throat as his thick fingers fucked into you. Or how his cock would split you open as he pressed you down roughly to take every inch of him. You swallowed thickly, pushing the thoughts down as you gently squeezed your thighs together, trying anything to curb the throbbing between your legs. 

Joel could feel your eyes on him, he could feel the intense stares and he couldn’t help but smirk as he finished up his food; he loved the fact that he could get you all flustered and frustrated by simply just being. It would be a complete lie if Joel hadn’t thought about you in that way but it was a line he hadn’t crossed, mainly because you both couldn’t stop arguing long enough to realise the tension that was thick in the air. 

“We should get going.” You said gruffly, your voice shattering the silence abruptly. “Want to get to the safe house to actually sleep properly. Get your ass up, old man.”

“Old man.” Joel tutted, rolling his eyes. 

He moaned as he arose from the ground, further cementing your comment on his age. You let out a sharp laugh and shot him a smug look as you slung yourself onto the horse. 

“Pass me the reigns.” You said sharply. 

“Please?” Joel asked. 

“Yeah, thanks. Get on or get left behind.” You muttered. 

Joel let out a frustrated sigh and simply passed you the reigns before climbing onto the horse behind you. He shimmed himself into place until he was comfortable, you could feel his thick thighs rub up behind you; you were so close to him now, it felt different than when you were on the back of the horse. You cleared your throat awkwardly and kicked the horse into action. 

The soft sounds of the horses hooves in the mud filled your ears as all your brain could focus on was the feel of Joel grinding up behind you with every move of the horse. He kept a hand on your hip for his stability at times when the terrain proved bumpy. 

You could feel yourself trying to shift in the saddle, feeling grateful every time you felt the seam of your pants rub against your damp core in just the right way. You bit back frustrated groans and the safe house couldn’t come soon enough, you would wait until Joel would fall into his usual slumber to relieve yourself with your own needy fingers. 

-

The ride was long, excruciatingly so and that was only enhanced further by your own frustrations but Joel assured you that the safe house was just up ahead, only a few more miles. The sun was setting and your surroundings were growing darker by the minute, it was made you nervous but you persevered, not letting any weakness show to the older male. 

“What was that?” You muttered, pulling on the horses reigns to halt the animal and you brought your finger up to your lips to hush Joel. 

A twig snapped near you and immediately your hand was on your weapon, pulling the pistol from your thigh holster. 

“Probably just an animal, keep moving.” Joel barked, annoyed at your paranoia. 

“Joel, I’m not a dumb ass, that didn’t sound like an animal.” You snapped back, your voice a harsh whisper. 

You sat there, your eyes still scanning the darkening scene as you held your pistol out and aimed. 

“Shoulda listened to the little girl, old man.” An unfamiliar voice rang out, a silhouette coming into focus as your finger hovered over your trigger. 

“Fuck off, walk away and I won’t shoot your brains out right here.” You spat, pointing the gun in his direction. 

The unknown male whistled, the noise echoed throughout and suddenly, four more men came from the shadows; they were all holding various weapons, some with crow bars, some with bats and the leader, with a large knife. 

“Oh boys, look at her, such a feisty and pretty little thing.” The male laughed, his voice sent sickening chills down your spine. “Whatcha reckon she’s doing with this old guy? Probably fuckin’ him so he don’t kill her.”

You felt your skin crawl and you shot a look over at Joel, your eyes flickered with panic as they looked back over at the men. 

“Let the old man go, take me, I’ll do what you want.” You said quickly, knowing a distraction like that could help. 

Joel looked at you ludicrously and as his hand hovered over his knife that was out of sight of the males. 

“Whatcha say boys? You reckon we could use the pretty little thing… Depends I guess, how used up are you.” He snarled, the other men with him whistling and laughing as the leader spoke. “Wouldn’t want his,” he shot a look at Joel. “Sloppy seconds, don’t want a used up little whore.”

“I-I’m a virgin!” You lied, lowering your gun and slowly getting off the horse. You threw your gun behind you, away from the men and smiled as sweetly as you could. “I’m fresh, I promise. Not used at all.” You held your hands up in surrender.

The leader closed the space between you, with two large strides and he took a few strands of loose hair so he could twirl them in his fingers. He leant down to close the gap between you further and sniffed deeply. You closed your eyes as you cringed internally. 

His fingers gently stroked down your neck and pulled your T-shirt forward so he could peer down your shirt, your stomach flipped with sickness and whilst he was distracted, you landed a hard kick to his groin. He groaned loudly and immediately fell to the floor, you took his knife and without hesitation, plunged it into the side of his neck. 

“Fuckin’ crazy bitch.” He spluttered out as the life slowly drained from him. 

The other men came lurching forward, immediately springing into action and Joel jumped down from the horse, knife in hand to help fight off the others. One of the men scrambled to pick up your gun, they quickly grabbed it and shot at you as you tried to fight him for it, the bullet missed you but managed to graze your thigh. As the loud bang rang loud in everyone’s ears, Joel was able to injure anotjer enough that the rest all dispersed off into the overgrown trees. 

“If I see you again, you’re all fuckin’ dead. Hear me? Dead men fucking walking.” Joel barked as they scampered off, fleeing the scene. 

You breathed deeply, holding your thigh as you fell to the floor; the fabric of your pants was ripped where the bullet grazed your skin. The burning was intense and you hissed as you ripped some fabric from your shirt to wrap around your leg. 

“Let me.” Joel said, kneeling down to help. 

You kicked your leg, pushing the male away from you and you shot him a sour look. 

“I’m fucking fine, leave me alone. I’ve got it. Just get us to the safe house.” You hissed again, standing shakily. 

You bent down to pick up your gun that had been thrown across the ground and you landed a final kick to the two bodies on the ground before clambering awkwardly onto the horse. 

“You’re so stubborn. I’m just trying to help you.” Joel spat, his annoyance evident as he kicked the horse into a fast canter. 

“Fuck off, Joel. Just get us there without getting us killed, yeah?” 

“What do you think I’m doing?!” He bickered back. 

The final stretch of the journey was short, although it felt elongated with the burning in your leg. You arrived at the safe house, looking at the exterior, you should wondered how it could even be classed as a house. It was a sad looking shack, the old and splintered wood of the its exterior looked as if it could give out any second. 

“Is there supplies here? Medicines and what not?” You asked as you climbed off the horse, you tied up her reigns and watched as Joel grabbed the bags off the back harness on the horse. 

“Should be.” He muttered and led the way, he cautiously opened the building and checked out the surroundings; it was dark now and he quickly flicked on the lantern that was situated inside. 

The dull orange glow illuminated the small shack just enough for you to see one old, worse for wear bed in the corner and a small kitchenette area. Joel searched through the cupboards and found bandages and some old disinfectant. 

You sat down on the bed with a groan, flexing your leg as you inspected your wound. He tossed the supplies at you and shut up the building, after giving the outside a final inspection of any nearby activity. 

You had removed your trousers so you could better dress your dirty wound when Joel walked back in, he was pacing the creaky ground and pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. 

“You were fucking stupid back there, with those guys. Could have got yourself killed.” He finally barked. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t see you with a better plan.” You snapped back, standing after being satisfied with your handy work. 

“Watch your tone with me, kid.” He snarled, getting closer to you. 

“Yeah? Or what? Whatcha gonna do, Miller?” You asked, squaring up to the older male. “I saved our ass back there and all because you were too chicken shit to do anything yourself. And I’m not a kid, so you watch your tone.” You accused, your slender finger landing some jabs into his shoulder. 

“Don’t. Fucking. Touch. Me.” He bit back as he took your wrist with ease into his large hand and held it roughly. 

You winced as he twisted your arm so it was behind yourself now and out of his general area. You took your free hand and shoved the male away from you, he took a couple steps back after stumbling from the force of your shove. 

“Fuck off, Joel. You should just be glad I was there to save your sorry, old ass. You wouldn’t have been able to do shit by yourself.” You hissed in agitation and turned your back to the male. 

You bent down to rummage through your pack until you found the spare set of pants you carried with yourself; you couldn’t see the way the older male’s eyes were fixated on the curve of your ass in your panties or the way his cock twitched in his own pants. 

“Such a brat.” Joel spat. “Such a rude, fuckin’ brat. Someone should teach you some manners.”

You laughed as you stood once more and span to look at the male, your eyes were narrowed and you cocked an eyebrow at him. 

“Oh yeah? Someone should teach me some manners?” You laughed and the male nodded, his hands balled into tight fists as his sides. “And who’s gonna do that? You? Like to see you try, old man.” You laughed once more, it was a condescending and loud noise, and it only seemed to anger the male more. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Joel smirked, voice cold and smug. “You’d be purring in my lap in no time, little girl. I see the way you stare at me, or the way you were rubbin’ yourself on the saddle earlier. Pathetic little girl. Should be taught some manners on how to behave properly.”

You lurched at the male, unable to control your anger anymore and you landed a loud slap to his face. 

“You’re such a cunt!” You cursed loudly, shoving past the male. 

He caught your wrist once more in a tight grip and pulled you back until you were stood in front of him again. 

“You’re only angry because I’ve called you out.” He said calmly, his voice still oozing with condescension. 

You opened your mouth to argue, to protest what he was saying but you didn’t have the chance because just as quick as you went to argue, his lips were pressing to yours in a hot and angry kiss. Joel weaved a hand around your throat and gently squeezed it as he kissed you. Your hands pawed at him eagerly, trying to strip any layers of clothing off of him as quick as you could. 

He bit at your bottom lip roughly and you whimpered, almost immediately folding for him. The kiss was filled with all the pining that had surrounded you both for months, even when both of you never realised it; it was angry, hot and full of clashing teeth. It summed the two of you up completely. Still, even now, you were both fighting for dominance to command the exchange. 

“Get on your fuckin’ knees.” Joel whispered against your lips, his hand still wrapped around your throat. 

You wanted to protest and tell him to fuck off, you wanted to snipe back and tell him to do the same but the words weren’t forming and they soon died in your mouth; instead, you were sinking to your knees to obediently look up at the male. Slowly, he released the hand from around your throat and smirked down at you. 

“Well,” he said, raising a brow at you. “You know what to do from here, so fucking do it.” 

You looked at him with narrowed eyes and you opened your mouth to speak, before a sound could even leave he shot you another look, one that warned you to do other wise and you simply shut up. 

You roughly undid his worn trousers, your fingers were trembling slightly and you just prayed that the man above you didn’t notice; you knew you would never live it down. You pulled down the old fabric of his pants and didn’t hesitate to the same with his boxers. His cock sprung upwards, it was hard already and your eyes drank in the curve of his shaft and the way his tip was already leaking a small bead of precum.

You looked up at him with a smirk, it was a smug move and you knew it, clearly he was far more turned on then he cared to admit and that made you feel proud. 

“Whatcha waiting for, princess? Need me to spell it out for you?” He asked, holding your chin roughly to maintain eye contact. “Hm? Need me to spell out for you what it is that you need to be doing now? Poor little baby. I’ve heard some good things about this mouth now why don’t you put it to good use for once, rather than your incessant bitchin’.” Joel growled. 

“Fuck you. Prick.” You argued weakly before obliging. 

Joel still held your chin as he directed your mouth onto his large cock, you opened your mouth wide and slightly stuck out your tongue so his member could slide into the warm crevice with ease. You slowly started to bob your head up and down onto his cock and the male removed the grip from your chin, instead, he wove his thick fingers into your hair; he held on by the roots and tugged roughly to move your head. 

“Fuck.” He groaned deeply, his voice sounding, somehow, even gruffer than normal. “That’s it, good girl. Take my cock, I know you can do better than that.”

You couldn’t deny that the way Joel spoke to you drove your crazier than it should have. Your core throbbed at the thought of having the male inside of you and it drove you to bob your head quicker onto his length, eager to earn more praise from him. 

“Come on, that’s pathetic, little girl. I know you can do better than that.” He pushed your head down harder causing you to gag around him. Spit collected at the corners of your mouth and started to dribble down your chin has Joel controlled the speed of which your head was moving. “That’s it, god, fuck, wish you could see how pathetic you look right now. Spit dribbling down your chin as you take my cock like a good girl.”

You moaned around the male and fluttered your eyes shut as you concentrated on not choking on your own spit as Joel drove his cock roughly into your mouth until the head was hitting the back of your throat. 

Joel roughly pulled your hair until your mouth popped off him, a long string of spittle connected you to his length and he simply looked down at you and barked out a laugh. 

“Look at you,” he laughed again and your stomach bubbled with arousal and anger. “Finally being a good girl and listening to me. Maybe that’s what you need all along, isn’t it? Needed to taste my cock and find out what you’d been missing.”

“Asshole.” You hissed after sucking in a deep breath, trying to regain your composure. 

“Hmm? Guess I haven’t managed to teach you any manners just yet, that’s alright baby, they’ll come when you do.” He smirked, taking your throat once more in his hands and pulling you up. 

Your jaw tensed as you ground your teeth together.

“You seem angry, princess. Tell me, what’s up?” He cooed, stroking your bottom lip with his thumb.

“You’re such a prick, thinking you know everything all the fuckin’ time, well you don’t. Just ‘cause I sucked your cock doesn’t mean you’re in charge.” You muttered. 

“Oh? It doesn’t? So I’m not in charge? So, if I said, oh I dunno… If you behave and do as you’re told, I’ll let you cum as many times as you want but if you don’t well then�� No orgasms for you, princess.” He chuckled, slowly trailing his hand down your arm and across your clothed breasts before he stroked the front of your damp panties. “Your move, baby girl.”

You shivered at his touches, his fingers ghosted over your panties and it took everything within yourself to not grab his hand and just rub up against it like a dog in heat. 

“Fuck.” You whispered, closing your eyes in despair. “Fine. Fuck.” You whimpered as Joel passed his fingers over your clothed heat again. “Fine! You’re in charge. Fine. Happy?” You yelled in defeat.

Joel laughed and kicked his boots off to the side so his trousers could follow suit. He peeled his jacket off before removing his old t-shirt, there he was, stood before you and completely naked. 

Your eyes roamed the expanse of his naked skin and appreciated every inch; for his age, he was fit and not in a sickly way. He was slim but broad in his shoulders, his arms were thick from handling guns and weapons during fights and his cock, you didn’t want to admit it but you needed more of it. 

“Take off your clothes and lay on the bed for me, spread your legs and show me that little cunt of yours.” He whispered in your ear before nudging you in that direction. 

You nodded albeit a little dumbly and did as your were told; you removed your ripped T-shirt from over your head and pulled off the old sports bra that contained your breasts, they fell from the fabric and Joel bit back a groan as he took in your body. You stepped out of your panties, and tossed them to the side, a thick damp strip staining the gusset of them. 

Joel’s hand pumped his cock slowly as he looked at you, his thumb rubbed the precum over his length and he hissed softly at the sensation. Your eyes were fixed on his as you slowly sank onto the bed, the tired springs beneath you creaked softly and you sat back, with your legs spread wide for the male. He could see your arousal from where he was stood, could see your sticky wetness that coated your slit already. 

“Touch yourself.” He commanded and you shook your head, your cheeks flushed in minor embarrassment. “Hm? I don’t recall asking. Fuckin’ touch yourself and show me, show me how you make yourself cum when no one is around.”

Your hands stroked over your breasts, your fingers toyed with your nipples and you whimpered as you gently pinched the buds. You allowed one of your hands to travel lower and finally, dip between your wet folds. You gently sunk a finger into your wet heat and moaned, your head fell back as you pumped your finger slowly inside of yourself. After a few seconds, you added another finger and you whined at the feeling of your walls stretching around your own digits. Your head was still lulled back and soft moans fell from your parted lips, Joel stood above you and pumped his cock as he watched on. 

“Look at me, I wanna see that pretty little face of yours as you fuck yourself for me.” He groaned. 

You lifted your head and almost instantly your eyes met, you were both fixated on one another’s gaze and it made something deep in your stomach twist and bubble. You knew you were close and you sped your fingers up to draw your orgasm closer. 

“Gonna cum.” You whispered, your breaths coming out in short and ragged spurts. 

“Ask me.” Joel shot back, speeding his hand up. “Ask for my permission like the good little girl I know you can be.”

“Fuck. Can I — can I cum?” 

“Can you cum… what?” He asked. 

“Please. Please can I cum. Please, Joel. Fuck. Need it so bad, please.” You whimpered pathetically, your hand working hard. 

“Mhm, good girl. That’s it. Fuckin’ look at me as you cum, that’s it. I wanna see your face when you cum. Good fuckin’ girl.” He cursed. 

Joel’s praises were all you needed to nudge you over the edge and tumble deep into your intense orgasm, your toes curled and thighs shook as you kept your direct eye contact with the male. Explicit curses fell from your lips like flowing stream and you shook heavily as you slowly started to come down. 

“Let me taste you.” Joel whispered, dropping to his knees and pulling you closer, he was careful to avoid your bandaged wound as he did so. 

He pulled your fingers from your wet heat and sucked them clean, groaning as he tasted your arousal for the first time. 

“So sweet. Tastes so sweet. All for me now, hm?” He asked and you replied silently with a nod of your head. 

Joel ducked his head down and without a second’s hesitation, he sucked your swollen clit into his mouth; his tongue lapped at the bud roughly and you all but screamed at him. It was intense, your hand flew to his head to grip harshly at his greying hair and it only caused the male to suckle at your bud harder. 

“Fuck. Shit. Fucking Christ, Joel.” You whimpered, your thighs trembling as he forced them open. 

“That’s it baby, cum for me. Cum with my mouth on your pretty clit.” 

You barely had a second to recover from your orgasm, you barely even came down from it and here Joel was, ripping another out of you almost instantly. If it didn’t feel so good, you would have shot him a snarky comment about it. 

Your fingers were shaking as they held onto Joel and your hips ground down to meet the males face harder as he elicited your second orgasm from you. Your hole clenched around air and you whimpered at the feeling of being so empty when all you wanted was to feel Joel’s cock inside of you. 

He flicked his tongue over your bud once more for good measure as you rode out your orgasm. Your stomach was heaving with the deep breaths you tried to suck in, your legs were shaking and you weren’t sure if you would be able to handle Joel fucking you. 

“On your knees, ass up and silence from you, I don’t wanna hear you arguing with me.” Joel muttered before he gently spanked your exposed pussy. 

You made a small noise, the slap sending ripples through your body. You nodded and scrambled on your shaking legs to get yourself into the position. 

Joel roughly manhandled your ass, he groped at the flesh roughly and spread you before he landed his hand down onto the smooth skin in a bruising spank. You let out of a yelp and tried to scarper away from his hands but instead he brought you back roughly and spanked you again but this time you let out a small moan. 

Satisfied with the response, Joel took his length and gently pressed the tip of his cock to your eager, wet hole. 

You whimpered and gently pushed your hips backwards, trying to encourage the man to hurry up but it only caused him to withdraw more and tut from behind you. You whined and shoved your face into your arms which were resting on the old mattress. 

“Tell me how badly you want it, princess. Tell me how bad you’ve wanted my cock all day.” He groaned, rubbing his fat cock head along your slit, letting it nudge at your clit with every pass. 

“Fuck you.” You spat out, not wanting to appease the male further. 

“I will if you just tell me, come on, sweetheart. Look at you, your needy hole is all but begging for me. I know you want it, so why don’t you be a good little girl and tell me how badly. Come on.” He cooed. 

You groaned and hid your face further into the crook of your arm, no one, not ever, had spoken to you like that during sex or sexual acts and you didn’t want to admit how much it was turning you on. You felt embarrassed at being so exposed to the male behind you and you felt your cheeks burning under his watchful gaze. 

“Fuck, Joel. Please.” You whined. 

“Please what? Hm? What d’ya want baby? Hm?”

“Joel, I’m not playing. Please. Please fuck me, I’ve wanted it so bad all day, c-couldn’t help but stare at your bulge earlier and imagine what it would feel like in me. Been soaked all day, was gonna wait until you were sleeping so I could rub my pussy and think about it. P-please.” You all but sobbed out, your voice sounded foreign as the words tumbled carelessly from your own lips. “I’m not even joking, if you tease me any more I’ll cum without either of us touching me and that’s just embarrassing for everyone. Please fuck me already, wanna feel your cum dripping out of my hole. Want you to fuck a baby into me.” The last sentence fell from your lips and you immediately wanted to withdraw. “I-I mean, I just. Fuck. Sorry. I’m just really turned on and I didn’t mean—.”

Joel didn’t give any more warning, he bottomed out into you with a deep groan and your fingers gripped at the sorry sheets beneath you both. 

“Fuckin’ hell, princess. So tight for me. You want me to fill you up with my seed? Hmm? Wanna see if I can get you pregnant, huh? Bet you’d like that, filthy little slut.” Joel snarled, his hips pushing against your ass hard enough to leave marks. 

He was relentless with his pace, his thick cock drilled in and out of your tight hole and you felt drunk, felt drunk on the high of your previous orgasms and felt drunk on the older male’s cock. 

You couldn’t help but squirm under Joel, his strong hands held you in place to ensure you didn’t move too much. 

“C’mon baby girl, quit your squirmin’ for me… gotta keep nice and still whilst I fuck my cum into you. Gotta make sure it gets nice and deep.” He groaned. 

You clenched around the male as he spoke, his words causing your walls to flutter around him and you moaned softly, your head still buried deep into your own arm. Your fingers were still gripping at the sheets for dear life as Joel fucked into you, his own fingers gripped roughly at the soft flesh of your hips. 

“J-Joel…” you whimpered weakly. “Please can I cum again? P-please.”

Joel smiled from behind you and released on of his hands so he could intertwine it into your messy hair; he pressed your face into the mattress below you and rolled his hips rhythmically. You whimpered under the pressure of the man and felt yourself fluttering around him, knowing that another orgasm was impending imminently. 

“Mhm, wanna feel your pretty little pussy cum on my cock. That’s it, atta girl. Such a good little whore for me, aren’t you? Taking me so well. Mmm, so proud of you, good baby.” He cooed, pulling his cock out to rub up against your clit. 

Your legs shook once more, the new sensation against your swollen clit driving you mad. He took his cock and roughly pressed it back into your wet heat and you groaned under him. You slid a hand under your bodies so your fingers could rub eagerly at your own clit, Joel noticed it and pressed your face hard into the rough fabric underneath you. 

Your fingers circled your clit and within seconds you were falling apart at the seams, you came around the male and your walls sucked him in deeper as you did so. 

His name fell from your lips like a spoken curse as you fell apart, your weak body collapsed as your orgasm ripped every shroud of energy you had left in you. Joel didn’t seem to mind, he more felt a sense of pride that he had this effect on you. 

He took both of your hips into his hands once more and sped his hips up, hungrily chasing his own high. 

“Such a good little pet for me, so beautiful when you’re fucked out. So obedient for me. Fuck. So good. Should fuck my seed into you so we can see you get all full and round, let everyone know in Jackson who you belong to. Eh? You like that?” Joel mumbled, his words barely stringing a sentence together between his ragged breaths. 

You nodded under the male eagerly and moaned weakly. Joel chuckled as he looked at your spent face and you clenched around him once again, that was all he needed and he was tumbling into his own orgasm. Joel bottomed himself out and held himself there, anchoring himself to you by your hips as you felt the first hot spurts of his cum coat your insides. You whined at the sensation of being so full of the male. 

“Fuck…” you whispered. 

Joel laughed gruffly as he collapsed on top of you, he barely held his weight up as he tried to suck down some deep breaths. After a few seconds, Joel finally built up the courage to collapse onto the sorry mattress next to you. The springs creaked loudly as he did so and you rolled onto your back with a wince, you knew you would be sore tomorrow for more than one reason. 

“Fuck!” You repeated, your mind slowly coming to terms with what just happened. 

“Not so cocky anymore, are you?” Joel laughed, leaning up on his elbows to peer down at you. 

“And yet, you’re still an asshole? Unbelievable.” You scoffed with a roll of your eyes. 

“I prefer the term, consistent, darlin’.” He shot back, smugly before he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. 

Joel got off the bed with a groan and quickly threw his clothes back on. 

“Take the first sleep, I’ll keep watch. Tomorrow we’ll go find those fuckers from today and make sure they don’t get anywhere near you again.” Joel said, softer this time. 

“You take the first sleep, y’always fall asleep on watch anyway. Old man. Can’t imagine how tired you are after fuckin’ that hard.” You teased back. 

“For once, just for once could you just listen to me and do as I say?” Joel huffed. 

“I just did… dunno if you remember? Your cock was inside of me? Pretty good. That’s all you’re gettin’ from me.” 

“Only pretty good? Huh…” Joel mumbled as he watched you dress yourself. “Guess I should give it another go and see if I can improve my score… and your manners since you seem to have forgotten them real quick.”

“Guess you should.” You replied quickly with a smirk. 

“Such a bitch.” Joel shook his head with a fond smile this time and quickly closed the distance between you both again. 

“Such an asshole.” You laughed and latched your lips onto his with a grin spread across your features. 

Maybe working with the older Miller again wouldn’t be the worse thing in the world, not anymore, anyway. 

——————————————————

————

——————————————————

[hymemena]

The Quarry Sentence Starters

Feel free to change pronouns as necessary, and remember to specify muse for multimuse blogs.

CW: Swearing, violence, injury, animal attack mention, suggestive

—

"Swarm of bears?"

"Fine… Okay. Once again, -muse- puts themself in mortal danger for the sake of their 'work friends.'"

"Just… How can you be so certain?"

"If I let my conscience slow me down, now, everything gets a lot worse for everyone. Believe me."

"Ah-ah, you'll have it when I say you'll have it."

"Alright, huddle up boys, this is how we're gonna do this."

"There's a half naked girl/boy waiting for you back there, -name-, what are you doing?"

"It was… It was okay."

"They seemed pretty insistent we stay in the lodge."

"I'm just desperate to stay afloat in a world where everyone wants to be different."

"Sometimes things just don't make sense."

"Fuck!"

"Son of a binky-bonky!"

"Well, at least I don't look and smell like a butt."

"Podcast, huh?"

"Family is very important."

"Does this look like the Goddamn Harbinger Motel to you?!"

"Maybe they don't check their voicemail."

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"I saw it online."

"I don't know! This was my first cop!"

"You're a horrible person."

"You shot me?! I'm telling mom!"

"You stabbed me. That really hurt."

"Goodbye, cruel world! The final curtain is calling and there's no time for an encore…"

"Who should we call?"

"Ninety-one one."

"You mean nine-one-one? Who says ninety-one-one?"

"Okay, well, just because you're using 'logic' to 'make sense' doesn't mean that I'm totally into it."

"Hey, you're singing off-key."

"We are being hunted by literal monsters and this is what scares you?!"

"Oh my God. You are so childish."

"Yeah, if they made a podcast called 'How To Look And Smell Like A Butt.'"

"-Muse-, what's your position?"

"Uhm… Standing?"

"I just can't wait to see who they choose to play me. In the movie about how brave I am."

"Maybe you should have asked them out on a date?"

"Damn it! I missed my shot!"

"P-A-R-T… Why the fuck not?"

"Check out my huge melons!"

"There's been a horrible accident--Attack. Some stuff's bad here."

"I'm not gonna fuck a bear."

"Sorry!"

"Why didn't you tell me there was something out there?!"

"I don't know what I saw!"

"Oh my God, -Muse-, you won't believe this! It's… Nothing."

"Yeah, well… Worse things have happened this summer."

"You beefed it."

"Ah, not this time, motherfucker!"

"And what? Risk another run-in with Captain Deliverance?"

"Well, that bodes ill!"

"Whoa, watch your step!"

"Why'd you do that?"

"You told me to!"

"That was a bad idea."

"Huh. Rude."

"They get kinda hot when they're bossy, huh?"

"I'm always hot, pencil dick."

"It's my beer-dar. Helps me dar for beers."

"It's not a secret room! It's just hidden… By stuff…"

"Yeah, that's what a secret is!"

"I haven't ever been stabbed before."

"Why is there what I can only hope is strawberry jelly on your face?"

"Oh, yeah, no. I'm pretty sure it's blood."

"You can't hide from me in my own house, fucker!"

"You're a fucker!"

""Oh, so now I'm blind, too, you motherfucker!"

"Why does everyone blame everything on bears?"

"Okay, so for the sake of argument, what if that 'bear' that cut our phone line and just cut out all the power-- What if that bear is waiting for us out in the hallway?"

"What's wrong with this thing? It's just closing!"

"Sorry, bro!"

"Double skill!"

"Ow! Mother… Hubbard!"

"No… They're funny!"

"Moment's gone."

"…But not forgotten."

"No… -Muse-… Don't do it… Stop…"

"Herd of bears."

"Yeah, I've heard of bears."

"I can try to encourage them."

"Go for it! You guys can do it! --it's not working."

"You know that's kind of a movie-only thing, right?"

"I mean, you bang someone on the head you're more likely to kill them or leave them with permanent brain damage… Not just 'knock 'em out.'"

[pretty-face-breaker]

You’re in Shock

At last, it seems Hayko is dragged out of the mess he found himself in two years ago. Though, the road to freedom is not a peaceful one and especially when Nick is driving.

c.w. minor character death, guns and descriptions of blood, whumpee going into shock/being unable to verbally communicate, noncon touch (nonsexual), getting carried against will

1 2 3 4 

—

Bang.

Thud.  

Hayko’s eyes snapped open to watch him lower the gun, the blur of his surroundings replaced with a sudden awareness. The man—what had been one—had made a fleeting jerk for his waist when he had seen the barrel between his eyes but too little, too late. Nick had sent him down in less than a second. Then, just as clinically, tucked the gun away.

His mouth was stuck agape. He was unable to peel his eyes from the gore on the ground, make sense of what just happened when he suddenly saw Nick turn and lunge at him. Those green slits were focussed but Hayko screamed anyway and threw an arm up that Nick caught with ease and twisted, earning another wail from his sore body.  

“Hey, shut up,” Nick hissed close to his ear. Hayko felt a spot of blood smear onto his wrist. “Stand, now.” 

If he could obey as easily, he would have. If Nick hadn’t beaten the ability to obey out of him over the last hour, before the gunshot, before the chastising, his involvement in all of this, he would have but all he could do is push himself to his knees and keel at the sudden stab of pain in his ribcage. Hayko gripped at Nick’s arm blindly, hauling himself up through the pain until he was half-standing and could take a better look at him. 

“Ah, f-fuck. Why did you-...wh—” Desperate for an answer, he stammered until Nick was pulling him to the door under his arms. He grunted as his head hit the door frame he was thrown against and slid down on pulse with his heart in his throat. Nick stood, fully visible through the open door and only an inch away. 

He glanced over, eyebrows raised. “Yes?” That cool and unphased fucking tone, like he hadn’t just blown someone’s brains out directly in front of him. 

“Y-you…” Hayko faltered, never before feeling so helpless. “You kill—” Nick’s expression seemed to change mid-question to the dark contortion that shut him up. He didn’t have to specify that if he wanted to live, he should stop asking questions. Besides, Nick was focussed on someone else. 

“Alright Miguel, I’ve got it. I’ve gotta go, yeah.” Eladio sneered the acknowledgement into the phone at the bottom of the hall, one finger twirling the silver on his neck. 

This is happening too fast.

Hayko felt everything in him freeze. On the other hand, Nick just stared ahead, arm ghosting the leather to remove the gun in a few soft clicks and rustles. Too far for the man at the end of the hall to have heard a thing. When his eyes finally did focus on the lone figure standing in the doorway, his lips curled into a knowing smile. 

“Killed him already? Thought you’d go for a couple more hours,” Eladio could be heard lilting through his own grin. Hayko didn’t dare breathe. Through the corner of his eyes, he kept a firm stare on the man in black and recently added red as if he’d disappear as quickly as the other had. 

The one laying a few paces behind the both of them at that moment. 

Nick smiled in return, not one to disappear. “I couldn’t forgive this one, unfortunately. He pushed me too far.” And diligently, he kept his eyes lock-stock through the frame, not once letting them flicker over to Hayko who stared at his enigmatic look with a fear so deep in his bones, it could have choked him. 

Soon enough, Eladio’s eyes travelled to the mess, too. “I can tell, Jesus, right through the face? You surprise me, Sinc—” He was no more than a few feet from Nick, judging by his volume. Hayko swore he could have heard the sharp inhalation which felt louder now than every other sound he’d heard that night, even his own directionless wails when Nick had hit him with the cane and then told him he’d spare his life. Now, he and Eladio both weren’t breathing. 

“You trusted my father and he fucked you over. Honest mistake, right?” Hayko felt Nick’s grip choke the gun as evenly as his cold words wound around the room. He clenched his teeth together so hard from the roar of blood in his head, he thought they might crack when Nick would finally pull the trigger. 

Father?

Nick laughed, watching Eladio arm jerk to realization and go for his waist. “But you were stupid enough to trust me and that one’s on you.” 

The bang erupted before he had seen him raise the gun again. And another, and another, until Hayko had slid down to the ground, shielding his ears from the explosions with his palms tight against his temples. 

The first gunshot had brought him from fading away into the warmth of unconsciousness. Now, he couldn’t differentiate one sound from the other. Eladio talking, no, that was Nick. Eladio had hit the ground, collapsing backwards—or forwards, no difference. He could feel the warmth seeping out and he was so close to them. The air stunk of blood and the residue of the flashes still pulsating every time he blinked and all he did was hold on tighter and tighter, praying it would all end soon. 

Bang bang bang bang—

Eventually, he clamped his ears in hopes that the world would fade away, brushing past him noiselessly. It wasn’t until he felt the warmth of a finger brush his cheek after however long it had been that he cracked his eyes open. 

Nick, with his face and clothes pockmarked with red, knelt at his level with a soft expression. 

“We have to go,” he murmured, scratching his cheek and waiting for a reaction. 

Hayko’s hands shook when all he could return was a blank stare. Feeling nothing stirring, Nick’s eyebrows furrowed and he took his jaw in his hand. Hayko moved his elbows defensively to shield his face as the man surveyed him, recovering from the blasts and blood. God, he thought he’d stare at him with that intensity forever.

“You’re in shock.” He stated it, nothing behind the words but clinical observation. 

Hayko only whispered what mimicked a noise of confusion before he felt himself being lifted and lifted and, finally, slung over warmth—his shoulder. His hair fell in front of his eyes like a curtain and he wanted to sink his fingernails into the flesh of the shoulder as a wait, wait a minute, something to make him understand what he couldn’t say. 

Why can’t I say anything? 

What’s happening? 

Nick, however, hadn’t planned this around his silent protests. He maneuvered out of the room, over what Hayko thought was a body when they both moved up, and rushed through the crushing emptiness of the warehouse. He watched the metallic patterns, let the tools envelop his vision, registering only a faint bouncing of hair next to Nick’s shallow breaths until they jerked to a stop at a door. 

A strong hand pushed it open and Hayko braced himself for the blast of cold night air against the bruises and roar of blood in his ears. Diligently, it came and he winced all the same, screwing his eyes shut as Nick waded into the night. 

“A friend’s going to take us from here,” Nick’s voice rumbled against his ribs and he mewled and shifted, bouncing on his shoulder with each step. 

It seemed that over the past two years, things had stopped happening on cue, instead taking him all at once and winding him, too. Life hadn’t gone the way he had wanted it to and every time he had prayed for something, it had come moments too late to the point where he wondered if he had violated some nameless law to become the target of all the wrath in the world. 

But at that second, a few breaths later, two headlights shone through the darkness. The crunch of gravel poked holes in the night and Nick took off in a sprint, shushing Hayko when he gasped and held on tighter. He ran down the path and planted two hands against the passenger seat window. “Roll it down,” he ordered, breathless.  

Hayko couldn’t exactly distinguish the mumbling through the crack of the window but it was enough for Nick to throw open the backseat and let him tumble down. Groaning in pain, he felt the release of what he hadn’t been able to say since the gun had gone off, and let the little noises slip out into the leather as the driver changed seats with Nick. Doors closed and opened with no particular pattern and he felt himself being jostled, his head lifted. 

A breathless laugh came from the driver’s. “Make him comfortable, Russki.” 

Hayko gasped—wheezed, moreso and stopped himself from a hysterical laugh.  

“I have you, do not worry,” Vladimir whispered quickly. His fingers worked just as fast in adjusting his head comfortably and clicking the seatbelt in place for a meager amount of restraint. Hayko buried his head against the leg, grateful the dark could shield his face from his friend, bruises and all. 

With wheels on gravel flow, the initial acceleration and the feeling of being pushed back, the feeling of leaving everything behind, driving really did become meditation with enough time in the car. Hayko, for the first time, felt a few pounds lighter and even if it was his head, it couldn’t have hurt. He let Vlad cradle his head, smooth his hair back as the three dove into the woods. 

He let things fall behind. 

Before they had left though, he thought he had seen a sea of headlights with dark eyes peeking just enough behind each windshield, maybe a gun or two, and he could have sworn he had heard the pounding of those feet against the gravel as they left the compound behind. Weapons loading, skilled preparation, planned preparation. In the empty warehouse, he thought he heard men organizing themselves, paying no attention to Nick. 

If that had seen him, they had ignored him, Hayko realized dimly but wasn’t able to make a connection. Whatever it was, he could deal with it later.  

And still, he let things fall behind and let the darkness take what was left. 

—

Tagging: @doveotions @heathenville @thewhumpstuff @thatsthewhump @adamantem-rose @lonesome--hunter @whumpsorbet @whumpasaurus101 @lektricfergus @downrivergirl914 @burtlederp 

Ask to be added/removed!

[beckzorz]

Out of Nowhere (19/21)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/OFC Summary: An offhand comment at work draws Jesse Kaplan into the orbit of Bucky Barnes. Bucky’s excited at the prospect of normalcy, but there’s nothing normal about falling in love with the Winter Soldier. Warnings for Part 19: Canon-typical action/violence Words: 2541 A/N: The song for this chapter is “Second Balcony Jump - Rudy Van Gelder Edition/ 1999 Digital Remaster/ 24 Bit Mastering” by Dexter Gordon from Go! (The Rudy Van Gelder Edition). Guys! I just realized that after this there are only TWO MORE PARTS of this story :o Next Friday is the thrilling conclusion! I’m totally shocked... I can’t believe I’ve been posting this story for long enough to get through all its parts in just another week! THANK YOU so so much for reading so far and I hope you can stick through to the end <3 I hope you’re all having a great day, and I hope you enjoy!

PART 19: “SECOND BALCONY JUMP”

Natasha strode right to the interrogation table and unlocked Mike’s cuffs from the ring on its top. His face brightened with sudden hope, but Natasha just dragged him out of the room. He stumbled, his tall frame bowed like an old man’s, and shot an accusatory look at Jesse as they passed by her.

But Jesse couldn’t move. Her whole body was trembling. Twitching fingers, chattering teeth. And Mike thought she should have—could have—done something about him being dragged off by Natasha Romanoff, world’s most overqualified babysitter?

Natasha hadn’t specified, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who they were.

Current Relief.

Were they about to finish what they started when they came after her the last time?

A door in the other room slammed shut, startling Jesse out of her thoughts.

“Jesse, come on,” Natasha ordered.

Jesse crossed her arms over her chest, wrists against her collarbone, and hurried shakily out of the room. The observation window flickered when she glanced at it, and she yelped when she saw Mike through the window. She spun around, but Mike was nowhere to be seen.

“A recording,” Natasha said shortly, stuffing a remote in her belt. She nodded towards the wall next to the stairs up. “And a soundproofed cell. He’ll be fine.”

“W-what’s going on?” Jesse stammered. She dug her fingers into her shoulders.

Natasha jammed a magazine into her pistol. “SHIELD surveillance flagged a suspicious convoy headed this way, and—”

“A convoy?!”

“—further footage indicates that certain passengers are from Current Relief.” Natasha ignored Jesse’s outburst. A murmur came from her comm; her lips tightened. “They’re less than a mile away.”

Natasha’s face blurred. Jesse swayed in place.

“Hey!” Natasha snapped in front of her face, startling Jesse out of her stupor. “Stay with me, Jesse.”

Jesse nodded dumbly. Natasha took her by the elbow and steered her up the stairs. “Richard is upstairs. He’ll protect you. I’ll keep them busy downstairs. Just stay with Richard, do as he says, and you’ll be fine. No plungers necessary.”

“Plungers?” Jesse blinked and furrowed her brow as she was led up the second flight of stairs. Oh. The attack on her apartment. The shower. Stocky. “Right.”

Natasha sighed and slapped Richard’s door with an open hand. “Rensselaer, open up,” she ordered. The door opened just enough for Natasha to push Jesse inside, and then it shut.

Jesse blinked at the door’s smooth white paneling. Her brain felt like stew. She’d barely processed any of what Natasha had told her. Where was she? Richard’s room? She turned around. Richard was back to loading his guns at his bed. The open closet door revealed a small open safe, empty save for a little cardboard box of ammunition that had fallen over. A few rounds had settled on the bottom of the safe.

“Get in the closet,” Richard ordered.

Jesse stared at him, hands still trembling. Richard was dressed to fight—a tactical vest, holsters stuffed with more guns than she’d seen even on Bucky. Richard had told her to do something. Why couldn’t she remember it? Why couldn’t she move? Why was she crying? What was the matter with her?

Richard’s last magazine clicked into place, and he slid it into an empty holster on his hip. He came over and put his hands on Jesse’s shoulders, his brown eyes gentle. “We’re not going to let anything happen to you.” He guided her towards his closet and pushed on her shoulders until she was crouched in the corner, her knees pressed tight against her chest. “Stay quiet. I’ll be back for you.”

Plungers.

“What if they come?” she blurted. She grabbed Richard’s sleeve before he was out of reach; his whole arm shook from her trembling. “They found me when they came to my apartment. What if—” She cut herself off and pressed both hands to her mouth. They were going to find her, and she was going to die.

Richard frowned, but there was no one to advise him. Jesse squeezed shut her eyes and bit hard on her tongue to keep from making noise as tears clogged her throat. She could just make out the buzz of Richard’s comm. They’re here.

“I’ll be back for you,” Richard repeated. He hurried out, cocking a pistol as he went and locking the door behind him.

Jesse reached out blindly and wiggled her fingers under the bottom of the closet door to pull it most of the way shut. She curled herself into a ball. In the silence and darkness of Richard’s closet, with its strange smell and numerous polo shirts, her brain finally lurched back to life.

How had this happened? Wasn’t this place supposed to be safe? It was bad enough when Mike showed up, but Natasha had brought him here. Had Current Relief followed him? Within an hour of his arrival, here they were.

No… That couldn’t be it. Natasha wouldn’t have brought him here if she knew they’d be followed. She wouldn’t have! And she had to know. She was the Black Widow! One of the most terrifying spies on the planet! She wasn’t that stupid.

Jesse’s stomach dropped. No, the only person stupid enough to broadcast their location was Jesse herself.

It wasn’t Mike’s arrival that told Current Relief what they needed to know. No, Jesse had done it for them. She’d run outside just long enough for them to find her, and now—

Now she’d put the whole fucking neighborhood at risk.

Natasha, Richard, Mike… Mike was trash, but he was everyone’s best bet at figuring out the plans of the people who’d done such harm. Richard was antisocial, but underneath that standoffishness he was kind. And Natasha—if Jesse got Natasha killed, it didn’t matter that all of this had happened because of someone else’s terrible decisions. Natasha was an Avenger, one of SHIELD’s best. How many people would be after her for revenge?

Jesse shuddered. She curled her fingers into her stomach, fighting back rising bile. All she’d ever wanted was to help people. She didn’t work at a nonprofit for the money, that was for sure. But here she was, summoning terrorists to a SHIELD safehouse as though no one inside mattered at all.

How could things have gone so wrong?

And how much of all this was her fault?

She swallowed, throat burning.

An unmuffled gunshot rang out, splintering the heavy silence. Jesse gasped and curled up tighter, pressing her hands over her ears. Two more shots rang out, quieter but no less real; the wall at her back shuddered with impact. Jesse squeezed her eyes shut and leaned forward until she was curled behind Richard’s small safe. Bangs and yells echoed from downstairs; the walls shook again. The closet door creaked as it swung slowly on its hinges.

Richard yelped. Oh god, was he hurt? What had happened to him?

More yells, bangs, and grunts from downstairs filtered through the thin carpet. Running footsteps pounded up the stairs. Jesse sat up, lips parted with terror. She inched forward. Through the open closet door, she could see that Richard’s bedroom door was still locked shut, a sliver of light along the bottom.

A shadow stopped in front of the door.

Jesse couldn’t stop the whimper that grew in her throat. She clapped a hand over her mouth and flung herself deeper into the shadows of the closet.

“Ha,” a man’s voice said. “Got you.”

Jesse’s blood rushed in her ears. She rose into a crouch and picked up the safe. It was small, not particularly heavy, but its open door swung as she lifted it. She fumbled to latch it shut.

A gunshot splintered the bedroom door. Someone kicked it in.

“Come out, come out,” the man cooed. His voice moved closer as he spoke, and Jesse counted in her head and hefted the safe higher in her arms.

When her assailant flung the door open and let out his first gunshot, the safe ricocheted the bullet back at his leg. He fell to his knees with a shout. Jesse regained her balance and swung the safe at his head with her teeth bared and muscles burning.

The impact sent them both reeling. Jesse stumbled, but the man collapsed facedown in a motionless heap on the floor. Jesse dropped the safe, panting.

The metallic scent of blood flooded her nostrils. The bile she’d been holding back rose dangerously, and she threw herself at the little trash can by the bed just in time. She shuddered as she retched, eyes blurred with tears and adrenaline.

Jesse coughed and swallowed with a grimace as another round of gunfire rang out downstairs. She crawled on her knees over to the prone man, glancing anxiously at the half-open door. The man had fallen on his face, one arm trapped under his stomach. His gun had fallen a few feet away. From this angle, Jesse couldn’t see the damage she’d done. She didn’t even know if he was bleeding.

The scuffle downstairs was getting louder, moving closer. Someone stomped on the stairs. Jesse stood to shut the bedroom door, but the knob had been blown away.

She panicked.

Richard’s room, like hers, had a window blocked with thick drapes. Jesse grabbed the abandoned gun and flung the curtains open. She squinted against the morning sun and forced open the window, then the screen. Just below was the pitched overhang for the back door, the one she’d run out of barely an hour ago. Jesse tossed the gun outside, then climbed onto the windowsill, heart stuttering. She eased herself down the few feet to the overhang. Her hands slipped before she had gotten a solid purchase, and she slid down the angled shingles with a strained cry. She snagged a hold on the lip of the overhand.

Then she dropped.

The six-foot fall into the dirt rattled her bones all the way up to her skull. She tried to turn her heavy landing into a roll, but her right wrist buckled. She didn’t stop. The woods were just there, just there… She ran, blind and deaf to her surroundings. She couldn’t hear a thing from the safehouse.

She didn’t look back; she just pumped her legs hard as she dashed into the cover of the woods. Was anyone following? Could anyone see? Dead leaves crunched underfoot. She wound her way between the trees in a frenzied ribbon. When she finally looked back, all she could see was the forest. The house was out of sight.

In a few minutes she emerged from the woods, still running, onto a road. The dirt and gravel crunched under her shoes. Her speed and shock were too much for her to make out details. Were there rocks? She couldn’t tell. She only stayed on her feet through sheer dumb luck and the grace of god.

Jesse glanced back, panting heavily, but no one was coming. She was alone.

She slowed to a walk. As her adrenaline drained away, her steps turned into stumbles. Her whole body throbbed from the fall, and a separate sharper burn sliced through her wrist with every movement. Jesse cradled her injured hand to her chest, eyes welling with tears.

She made her way to the edge of the road and collapsed in the tall grasses. Her quick breaths sliced through her lungs. Her limbs twitched as she moved; it took four tries to arrange the grasses around her like a cloak. She rested her forehead on her knees.

Her tears soon left a damp spot on her jeans. She sat up and wiped her cheeks with her trembling good hand, then realized she was empty-handed.

“Sh-shit!”

She’d left the gun! She’d thrown it outside on purpose, and now she was completely helpless. Helpless and injured—a sprained wrist, she guessed, plus the soreness inevitable from a fall. And the come down from her adrenaline high had turned her into a puddle. If anyone came after her, she was finished.

How could she have been so thoughtless? After everything, to die alone in the woods…

But then, would she have rather been killed in her apartment, for Fran to find? Or under Natasha Romanoff’s nose? At least out here no one could blame it on the Black Widow. It wasn’t Natasha’s fault that Current Relief had found them.

No, Jesse had ruined everything. She’d led Current Relief to the safehouse. She’d run away, like a coward, and it had turned into everyone else’s problem. All of this was her fault. How long until she finally paid for it?

—

Eventually, Jesse climbed to her feet. She had no idea where she was. Was she even on the same road as the safehouse? These gravel back roads all looked the same to her.

Should she try and find a building to get shelter? Another house, maybe? She huffed in dry amusement. Out here, what was there but houses? If she found somewhere else, she could call the police, get help…

Oh, what good would that do? What could the police do if even SHIELD was taken by surprise? And she didn’t have anyone at SHIELD’s number. Not even Bucky’s.

Jesse leaned heavily against a gray tree and squeezed her eyes shut. As a child, she’d memorized phone numbers easily. Even now she could rattle off her childhood friends’ numbers. These days, with smartphones and contact lists, she was lucky if she remembered her parents’ numbers, let alone her friends’. And she’d only known Bucky for what, two months? No, less. Six weeks, tomorrow. There was no way she could piece the right numbers together from her patchy memory. She knew enough math to know there were far too many possible combinations.

No, she was screwed. Well and truly screwed.

She’d dragged enough people into this mess. She wasn’t going to drag more innocent bystanders into it.

Jesse took a deep breath and stood straight, steadying herself with her good hand. She glanced back and bit her lip. What had happened to Natasha? To Richard? Had Current Relief won? Or were they beaten, tied up or cuffed like Mike? Endless questions rattled around Jesse’s brain.

A gunshot echoed from behind her.

Jesse flinched. She spun on the balls of her feet, hands trembling, every muscle tense. What the hell?

A second gunshot reverberated through the trees. Jesse dove back into the grasses at the side of the road. They were thick, and she was wearing gray. Could she make herself invisible? She had to try. She buried her face in her hands, eyes covered and all, and dug her elbows into the dirt.

Shouts rang out from the direction of the safehouse. How far had she actually come? Were they coming after her? Blood rushed in her ears. She tried to melt into the ground. What the hell was going on? What had happened?

The low rumble of a car broke through her terror. Jesse pressed herself even lower, not daring to look to the road. A cloud of exhaust and dust kicked up in the car’s wake as it crawled along. She bit hard on her lip, eyes watering, and tried not to breathe.

The dust didn’t settle for a long time.

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Cover You in Oil, Pt13

Word Count: 6455 Tags: @supermoonpanda @rayleyanns @sistasarah-sallysaidso @outside-the-government, @yourtropegirl @to-pick-ourselves-up-7, @ghostssss, @rampant-salamander, @saysay125,

Dum-E made a whirring noise as it lowered the windshield onto the car. Sally guided it down into place, pressing it against the urethane seal. Once she was sure it was secured, she replaced the trim and windshield wipers and admired the nearly finished work. She hadn’t yet seen Clint, but when she’d bumped into Steve coming into the garage, he’d suggested that Clint might be late rising, as he’d somehow stumbled into a drinking contest with Natasha after she and Tony had left the party.

“Okay, Dum-E, grab that rear windshield and meet me around the back?” Sally felt weird asking the robot to do things, but Tony had assured her that Dum-E would understand her commands. And it had, which had made installing the front windshield a cakewalk. She finished prepping the rear seal and urethane and guided the rear window glass into place, adjusting it with precision. She sighed and smiled. The car had gone together too fast, really, but Tony had all the toys to make it easier, and she hadn’t had a single issue getting her machined pieces to the front of every queue. She sprayed down the windshields with glass cleaner and removed the fingerprints and smudges. The car looked good. The metallic gleam of the cherry red paint gave it a raw power that she liked. As much as she wasn’t planning on admitting it to Clint, she liked it better than the purple of the previous Challenger she’d done.

She slipped into the driver’s seat and turned the engine over, listening to the roar of the hemi and nodding with a smile. She fastened her seatbelt and shifted into first, creeping through the garage to the door out onto the street. She indicated her turn into traffic and grumbled at the stop and go nature of things until she was able to get free of the congestion and headed toward Brooklyn.

“JARVIS, did Clint crash at the Tower last night, or did he head home?” She asked as she shifted gears. She felt her phone buzz in her coveralls before JARVIS responded.

“Biometrics in the Tower suggest he went home and the GPS on his phone suggests that’s where he is,” JARVIS answered.

“Can you dictate directions for me to get to his place?” She asked.

“Of course, Ms. Manners. You’ll want to take the next left.” JARVIS began to give directions much like a GPS, and Sally realized with a start that the AI had a bit of sense of humour when she overshot an intersection and he made fun of her. She pulled up in front of Clint’s apartment and parked.

“Is that Clint’s car, lady?” A small boy who looked like he couldn’t be older than five or six asked. Sally smiled at him.

“Sure is. Can you tell me which apartment is his?” Sally asked. The boy nodded and led her inside the building and up a couple flights of stairs, stopping in front of a non-descript door. He banged on it, and then ran and hid at the edge of the staircase, watching. Sally guessed Clint wasn’t exactly a morning person. The door swung open, and Clint stood there, naked, scratching the back of his head. Sally closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She opened them and stared directly at the centre of Clint’s forehead.

“Hey sweetheart, you missed one helluva party last night,” Clint stepped back, inviting her in. Sally raised an eyebrow.

“Did you lose your pants?” She asked. She heard the boy giggle from the stairs and winked in his direction before returning her eyes to Clint’s forehead.

“Huh? Oh, shit.” Clint dropped a hand to cover himself. “Yeah. They’re around here somewhere. Gimme a second.” He stepped back and shut the door. Sally could hear him rummaging around in his apartment, then heard a thump and a string of expletives. The boy at the stairs giggled again, and Sally turned to smile at him again, only to be distracted when Clint opened the door, a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms slung low on his hips. “How did you get here?”

“I drove,” Sally replied, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“How did you know where to come?”

“JARVIS.”

“Dude has a big mouth,” Clint grumbled. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, stretching his arms over his head. “I don’t get why you’re here.”

“I thought you might want to take Cherry for a spin.” Sally dangled the keys in front of his half-opened eyes. They shot open.

“She’s ready?” Clint asked. Sally nodded. “Why the fuck didn’t you say so? Gimme a minute!” He shut the door on her again. A fraction of a second later, he opened the door and pulled her inside by the front of her shirt, slamming the door behind her, and pushing her against the door. “Stay.”

Sally watched him as he ran across the apartment, looked out his window and let out a whoop, punching the air. He ran back to her without even realizing what he was doing, pressed her into the door and kissed her. Sally froze in stunned silence until Clint pulled away.

“What the –“

“Oh shit. Don’t tell Tony I did that. He’ll kill me,” Clint cringed. “I’ll be right back.” He dashed off around a corner, and reappeared moments later wearing a t-shirt. Sally eyed his get-up skeptically.

“You’re not seriously going to wear plaid jammies out in public?” She questioned.

“Are you questioning my decision-making skills, little miss couldn’t be bothered to bring someone out with her?” Clint shot back. “Allow me to drive you back to the Tower before Tony realizes you went out without a chaperone.”

“You do, and I tell him you kissed me,” Sally warned.

“So the car runs, right?” Clint changed the subject as he slipped his shoes on. Sally nodded, and Clint smiled and dragged her out into the hallway and down the stairs. “Good because Natasha just texted that she’s looking for you because your dress appointment is in less than an hour. And you’re going to need a shower before you go. Let’s see how fast I can get you back to midtown.”

Unsurprisingly, Clint knew the quickest route to get back to the Tower, and Natasha greeted them in the garage with a scowl.

“I’m surprised you’re standing this morning, Clint,” she commented, and then glanced at Sally. “You should hit the shower. Pepper’s meeting us down here in fifteen minutes. She has three appointments scheduled for dresses and she’s already fussing about being late to the first one.”

Sally sighed. “I have a change of clothes down here. I’ll scrub up. I had a shower before I came down this morning, and all I’ve done is the windshields.”

“Your choice,” Natasha shrugged. Sally headed to the bathroom and scrubbed her hands with pumice cleaner before changing. When she was finished, Pepper was standing by the car, admiring the finished restoration. She looked up at Sally and smiled.

“I have good news and bad news,” she started. “The bad news is that Kleinfeld has requested to reschedule your appointment. But the only appointments they have are for after you’ve left. I tried to press, but it just wasn’t going to happen. The good news is that I have another great store for us to go to, we’re no longer in a rush and I’ve had your mom’s wedding dress sent out to a cleaner that said they can have it done by this afternoon.”

“Okay.” Sally shrugged. “You’ve probably got a better feel for this kind of thing than I do, Pepper.”

“On account of my having been married so many times?” Pepper laughed. Sally blushed.

“I meant fashion. You’ve been spot on with all the fashion since I got here,” she explained, the words coming out in a rush. Pepper laughed again and shook her head.

“Come on, Happy’s got the car out front. Steve’s going to meet us there, he’s just grabbing a coffee,” she nodded toward the elevator. Sally glanced at Natasha and then to Clint.

“Steve’s seriously coming with?” She asked. Natasha nodded.

“Yeah, I had to cajole him a little, but he finally agreed. His eye is flawless, Sally, it’ll be worth it,” Natasha replied.

“Let’s go then.” Sally followed Pepper to the elevator and the three women stepped in. Clint had made no bones about the fact he was choosing his car over what he called was ‘the excessive torture of dress shopping’. Sally almost wished she could stay behind with him. She wasn’t entirely sure that he was wrong. Pepper could see her hesitance as they climbed in the car, but it mostly vanished when Steve climbed in with them, holding two Cap-sized coffees and handed one to Sally.

“Steel yourself, Sally. It’s all corsets and spanx for the rest of the day,” Natasha teased.

The first store was almost too quiet. There was faint background music of symphony music, but otherwise, there was no white noise that usually filled clothing stores. A woman greeted them at the front, and after directing them to take off their shoes, and smiling patronizingly at Steve, led them to a small room lined with dresses.

“Ms. Potts gave me your measurements, Ms. Manners, so I’ve pulled everything we have that’s available in your size,” the woman began.

“Anything with long sleeves can go, I want to wear gloves,” Sally started. “And you can call me Sally.”

“Gloves?” The woman looked surprised. “Gloves aren’t the fashion right now.”

“I want to wear gloves.” Sally was adamant. She couldn’t get the engine grime off her hands at the best of times. After a teardown like what she anticipating in Latveria, she doubted she would be able to get her nails clean either.

“But that’s not the fash-“

“With all due respect, this is Tony Stark’s fiancé,” Pepper interjected. “I’m sure she’ll be setting some style trends. Wouldn’t it be lovely to have one of your gowns attached to the biggest wedding of the year?” The saleswoman paled and nodded.

“Of course,” she agreed, casting a sidelong glance at Steve. “You aren’t the groom then?”

Steve laughed. “No, I’m the male critic.”

“Of course,” she said again, and stepped toward the wall of dresses. She pulled a number off the curtain rods and removed them to a rolling rack at the back of the room. “Was there anything else you would like to specify?”

“I like capped sleeves, and simple lines. I’d like to stay with a somewhat retro look,” Sally offered. “I know it sounds silly, but it’ll match my engagement ring.” She spun the ring self-consciously on her finger. The saleswoman flicked through the remaining dresses and removed another group.

“Let me just confirm your measurements, Sally,” she held up a measuring tape and gestured to a low platform in the centre of the room. Sally stepped up and waited. She followed the direction of the saleswoman and lifted her arms. Her t-shirt lifted a little, and she reached down to tuck it in. The saleswoman clucked.

“Heavens, your hands are filthy,” she commented, taking one of Sally’s hands in her own. “I’ll see if I can find some cotton gloves for you. I can’t have you touching the dresses like that.”

“I just scrubbed. Nothing is going to come off. I’m afraid my hands are somewhat stained from the work I do,” Sally explained. “It’s why I want gloves on the wedding day.”

“I can’t believe how filthy they are. Let’s go and see if we can’t get you a little cleaner. What on earth kind of work do you do?” The woman asked. “It’s almost as though you’re a mechanic or some other blue collar job. Welder?”

“You got it in one,” Sally forced herself to smile as she was led over to the sink. The woman offered her soap and then described how to wash her hands. Sally took a deep breath to calm herself before following her directions. When she dried her hands, the stain in the creases of her skin was just as dark as before, and there was no residue left on the hand towel she’d been given. Despite that, the saleswoman threw the towel into the garbage can beside the sink, and let out a little huff of air.

“I’ll go find some gloves.” She stepped toward the door back to the main part of the store. “Do not touch anything.”

Sally scowled at her retreating figure, and Natasha jumped up and started flipping through dresses, gesturing to Steve to come look with her. Pepper stepped over to Sally and sighed.

“She’s a prickly bitch,” Sally complained. Pepper nodded.

“This store is probably the best chance we have at finding you a dress though, Sally,” Pepper encouraged her. “Be patient. I’ll try to remind her how big her commission will be if she makes nice.” As if on cue, the saleswoman breezed back into the room, holding a pair of short gloves.

“These will go on your account, I couldn’t find any loaners,” she announced. Sally shot a look to Pepper.

“If we could start trying some dresses on,” Pepper spoke up. “Sally has a busy schedule. She’s flying out to Europe for work in just a day or two now, so we haven’t much –“

“What did I say about touching the dresses?” The saleswoman interrupted with a screech as she noticed Steve and Natasha reorganizing dresses according to what they wanted Sally to try on. Sally stepped off the platform and walked up to the saleswoman, careful to get right into her personal space, effectively cutting her off from approaching Natasha and Steve.

“Stop right there,” she growled. “I don’t know what school of salesmanship you went to, but if I treated my customers like you’ve treated me in the last fifteen minutes, I would go out of business in a month. You’ve insulted me, you’ve insulted my career, and now you’re screaming, full on, actual screaming, at my friends.”

“I told you not to touch –“

“You told me,” Sally spat. “Me, with my filthy blue collar mechanic’s hands. You did not tell the trained assassin or Captain fucking America to keep their hands off.”

“Captain –“

“Yes, the hot blond guy is Captain America, the gorgeous redhead is Black Widow. This really is Pepper Potts, the CEO of Stark Industries. It’s not just a theme wedding; I’m actually marrying Tony fucking Stark. Iron Man. And you just kissed a huge commission goodbye with your lack of tact and diplomacy,” Sally snapped. “I don’t have time to be treated like shit, Pepper. I’ll walk back to the Tower. I’ve got a little rage to get out of my system.” She stormed out of the room, and through the front of the store to the street, Natasha dashing to follow.

“You know you’ve gotta take one of us.” She grabbed Sally’s shoulder and stopped her before she could turn away from the store entrance.

“Fine, let’s get going,” Sally barely slowed herself, knowing full well that Natasha could keep up. They walked a few blocks in silence, Sally occasionally huffing out an angry sigh.

“Are you normally that touchy about the cleanliness of your hands?” Natasha finally asked.

“No. But we’re talking about my wedding. The one day in my entire life when I’m not going to be a mechanic. The one day I get to be a princess,” Sally complained. “And that bitch had to point out that I will never be able to suspend the reality of my filthy hands.”

“That’s why you wanted gloves?” Natasha asked. Sally nodded.

“I know I’d have to take them off for the ring part, but I still wanted to hide the dirt for photos and stuff,” Sally explained. Natasha stopped her, and put a hand on her shoulder.

“What about the classic hands photo?” She asked. Sally’s nose wrinkled in confusion.

“What –“

“The photo where the photographer takes a picture of both your hands with your wedding bands on,” Natasha described. “How were you going to do that photo?”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Sally admitted. Natasha gave a small smile and tilted her head.

“Do you think Tony cares?”

“About my hands?”

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“Well,” Sally thought. “No.”

“Do you think, for a minute, that Tony would want you to be anyone other than who you are on the day he marries you?”

“No,” Sally’s voice was almost a whisper.

“So why would you hide your hands, when I happen to know that he loves your hands?” Natasha asked.

“He does not,” Sally protested.

“He does. He said that he loves that your hands show how hard you work, and how brilliant you are. He said they show how uninterested you were in catching him, and that was one of the reasons he knew to trust his gut about you right away,” Natasha explained. Sally’s eyes filled with tears.

“He did not,” she whispered. Natasha nodded.

“He did,” she confirmed. “Come on. Let’s go get a knish, and then we can figure out where else we were supposed to go today, and catch up with Steve and Pepper.”

Natasha hailed a cab and gave the cabbie an address. They wound up at a small storefront, where Natasha took charge of ordering. She led them across the street to a small park and sat on a bench, handing Sally her food. Sally opened the bag and raised an eyebrow.

“What the hell is that?” She asked.

“It’s a knish.” The look Natasha gave her implied that she might thing Sally was a little on the slow side. When Sally returned the look with an arched eyebrow, Natasha sighed. “It’s a deep fried potato dumpling. Just try it. I got you cheese. You’ll like it.”

Sally was skeptical, but bit in. The potato was smooth and cheesy, and Natasha wasn’t wrong, it was good. She liked it. Having food in her stomach, particularly something heavy and filling, made her feel a little better about everything. She said as much to Natasha.

“Stressed and hangry. It’s the worst place to be,” Natasha smiled. “Pepper and Steve are going to meet us in fifteen at the next store. It’s just a couple blocks.”

Pepper and Steve were waiting inside when they got there, and the saleswoman greeted them with a friendly smile.

“I took the liberty of asking Ms. Potts what you were looking for, and I’ve narrowed it down to six dresses that fit your requirements. We don’t have as much selection as some of the other stores,” she apologized.

“I don’t need a million dresses,” Sally laughed, feeling more at ease. “I just need one.”

“Well, Ms. Manners, I hope we have it,” she smiled.

“You can call me Sally,” Sally offered. The saleswoman grasped her hand and shook it.

“Michelle,” she countered.

Sally already knew it was going to be a better experience. Michelle escorted her to the change room area where all six dresses were hung so she could easily see them. She glanced at Steve for his opinion.

“This one is going to make you look shorter than you are,” he offered. “The skirt is just a little too full, and I think there’s a risk you’ll look like a mushroom.” Sally nodded. “And this one is going to emphasize your hips in a way that I think you will be unhappy with.”

“You’re saying it’ll make my already large ass look bigger?” Sally asked with a laugh.

“Tony loves your curves. Clint loves your curves. I’d hazard if you did a straw poll, there wouldn’t be a single person on the team who didn’t think your curves were gorgeous, but I’ve overheard you complain about the proportion of your hips to your shoulders a couple of times now, and I think this dress would emphasize something you’re already self-conscious about,” Steve explained. Sally wondered if he’d chosen the words as carefully as he’d seemed to, or if he really was that tactful. He probably really was that tactful, she realized.

“Check. This dress will make my ass look bigger,” Sally nodded. “But Cap says I have a nice ass.” She winked at Natasha and grinned as Steve flushed.

“And this one is just all wrong,” Natasha offered, pointing to a third dress. Sally nodded. It wasn’t as articulate an argument as Steve had made, but she agreed with Natasha’s assessment. “Too much sequins. Too much crystals. Too much sparkle and glitter. There’s going to be a million flashes going off at various points throughout the day, and you’ll be one giant white blob with no shape from all the reflection.”

“Pepper, what do you think?” Sally asked. Pepper tilted her head and nodded.

“I think Steve and Nat are spot on. Try the other three,” she replied. Sally followed Michelle into the change room with the remaining three dresses and looked self-consciously at her hands before looking at the dresses.

“My hands are –“

“Have you washed them since the last time you were working on a car?” Michelle interrupted.

“Of course!” Sally exclaimed.

“Then they’re clean,” Michelle shrugged. Sally furrowed her brow in confusion and Michelle shrugged a second time. “My husband doesn’t leech grease stains onto everything he touches, provided his hands are clean. I’m sure if you’ve washed your hands, you won’t wreck anything, Sally. Let’s try this one first. The sweetheart neckline will enhance your bust.” She prepared the dress as Sally pulled her clothes off. Michelle helped drop the dress over her head and directed her to hold it in place while she laced it closed. When it felt tight enough, Sally dropped her arms and looked. She shook her head.

“I don’t like it,” she admitted. “But maybe Steve can talk me through it. The fit is nice.” She opened the change room door and stepped out into the viewing area. Natasha immediately shook her head, and Pepper looked up from her phone and shook her head as well. Sally looked pointedly at Steve who made the reaction unanimous. He didn’t like it either.

“Too eighties,” Natasha offered.

“Too lacy,” Pepper agreed.

“You look like a cream puff,” Steve shrugged. Sally laughed and headed back into the change room.

“I never would have thought Captain America would be a fashion guy,” Michelle commented.

“I don’t think he really is. But he’s an artist,” Sally explained. Michelle nodded.

“I didn’t know that either. Secret depths, I guess,” she laughed as she unlaced Sally. “I wonder what secrets the other heroes of New York are hiding?”

“I don’t know that Tony has a single secret,” Sally laughed. “Too much media.”

Michelle helped her into the second dress, and Sally liked it even less than the first. She stepped out of the change room with an unhappy scowl, and again, all three people shook their heads in agreement.

“So other than this one being even more cream puffier than the last one, what have we got wrong?” Sally asked Steve. Steve pursed his lips.

“Do you have anything with a more classic cut, Michelle?” He asked, narrowing his eyes. “Something with a higher neckline, maybe?”

“That style isn’t in this season, unfortunately,” Michelle nodded. “But you’re right. I think that’s what would be best. Let’s try on the last one, Sally. Captain, the sample closet is just behind you, if you wanted to flip through the eights and tens. Pull anything you think might meet your idea.”

“Sure.” Steve nodded, and rose. Natasha arched an eyebrow and followed him. Sally followed Michelle back into the change room and tried the last dress on. It was much better than the first two, but she still wasn’t sold on it, and her suspicions were confirmed when she saw Pepper wrinkle her nose up. Steve was doodling on a piece of paper and looked up long enough to shake his head before going back to whatever it was he was drawing.

“That’s better, but it really isn’t doing much for me,” Natasha offered. Steve walked over with his doodle.

“This is what I’m thinking.” He held out a drawing. The dress he’d sketched had a boat neck that dropped into princess seams through the bust, with capped sleeves. It had a full tea-length skirt. Sally tipped her head to one side and narrowed her eyes.

“That’s pretty. Very simple,” Sally agreed. Michelle nodded.

“I’m so sorry. You’re right, Captain, that dress would be perfect for her,” she agreed. “But I’ve got nothing at all like it.”

Pepper took the sketch and eyed it critically. “Your mother’s dress is quite similar to this.”

“No, Mama’s dress has an eyelet lace overlay.” Sally shook her head.

“The lines of the dress are similar though,” Pepper pointed out. “Michelle, if the dress is similar to what we’re looking for, how hard would it be to have a new dress made based on it?”

“I’d have to consult with my seamstress, but we’ve done it before. Sally, would you like to get changed and we can continue this conversation when you’re back in your own clothes?” Michelle offered. Sally laughed.

“Yes please.” She followed Michelle back into the change room and waited as the dress was unzipped. She pulled her clothing on quickly and headed back out to the front of the store, where they waited for Michelle. She arrived and shook her head.

“I called my seamstress, and there’s no way she could do it on such a tight timeline,” she sighed. “I’d really hoped we’d be able to help you, Sally.”

“You do bridesmaid dresses as well, right?” Pepper asked.

“Of course,” Michelle nodded.

“We’ll bring you that business, once Sally had decided who will be standing with her,” Pepper assured her. “We should pick up your mother’s dress on the way back to the Tower, Sally. It’ll give us a starting point.”

Sally pulled the plastic off the dress and gasped.

“I’ve never seen this dress look anything other than yellow from age,” she murmured. “God, it’s even prettier than I remember. I mean, the lace is horrible, but the style is so pretty.”

“Try it on?” Pepper urged. Sally took the dress to the bathroom and pulled it on quickly, struggling with the zipper until she caught the tassel on the zip and was able to pull it closed herself. The fit was nearly perfect. She stepped back into the lounge and caught Steve’s instant approval.

“Too bad about that lace,” Natasha commented from where she was sprawled across Clint’s lap. “It’s perfect.” Clint shoved her off his lap and walked over to Sally, his eyes narrowed. He slid his hand between the layers of the dress, under the lace, but above the lining. Sally forced herself to stay in one spot, despite the urge to swat his hand out from under the lace.

“You know, that lace could come off and the dress would be fine,” he offered.

“Are you insane? Dress linings are cheap nylon, dumbass,” Natasha laughed.

“Sure, now they are. But until the seventies or eighties, most linings were still silk. Even now, a quality dress will have a silk lining. Why do you think some wedding dresses go for twenty grand?” Clint rolled his eyes.

“How do you know all this?” Sally asked, more than a little surprised.

“There’s an old lady in my building who used to work for one of the big fashion houses in the sixties. She takes in sewing still, and always complains about the declining quality of clothing. She made her granddaughter’s wedding dress last spring,” Clint explained.

“Do you think she could look at this dress and tell us if the lining really is silk?” Sally asked.

“Take it off,” Clint ordered. “We’ll go see her right now.”

“Seriously?” Sally asked. Clint nodded, and shoved her back toward the bathroom. Sally changed and brought the dress out on her arm. She followed Clint to the elevator without a word, climbing into the passenger seat of the Challenger when he held the door open for her. “You’re sure about this?” She finally asked.

“Trust me,” he smiled. “Mavis knows her shit. The dress she made last year,” Clint paused. “Well, it was unbelievable.” He drove through midtown and across the Brooklyn Bridge into his neighbourhood. Sally shifted in her seat as she recognized his building, and she passed the dress to Clint as she stepped out of the car, taking it back as soon as she was standing.

“I’ll owe you big time, Clint, if this works out,” she acknowledged.

“You’ll owe me, then.” Clint was confident. He led her up two flights of stairs and knocked on the last door at the end of the hall. A hunched-over, tiny woman answered the door scowling and her entire demeanor changed when she saw Clint. She clasped her hands to her chest and beamed at him.

“Clinton! Sweetness, what brings you here to me today? And with such a pretty girl!” She reached out and pulled Clint’s face down to hers, soundly kissing him on each cheek.

“This is Sally –“

“Clint never brings girls here,” Mavis interrupted, smiling at Sally. Sally bit back a giggle.

“It’s not like that, Mavis. This is Stark’s girl,” Clint held up a hand, shaking his head. Mavis looked from Sally to Clint and back again.

“This is not a woman who belongs to any man, Clinton Francis Barton,” Mavis straightened up and gave him a dirty look. Clint pursed his lips and sighed.

“You know what I meant, Mavis,” Clint complained. “Sally has a vintage wedding dress, and we were wondering if the lining was silk. On account of the eyelet lace being tacky.”

“Eyelet lace isn’t tacky, Clint. It’s out of fashion,” Mavis corrected. “Come on in, Sally. I’m Mavis, since Clint can’t seem to find his manners today. Let’s see your dress.” Sally followed the tiny woman into the back of the apartment, to a brightly lit sewing studio. Everything was neatly placed and organized, without so much as a stray thread on the floor. A large frame on one wall caught her eye, and she walked toward it. It was filled with photos of gorgeous wedding dresses on equally beautiful brides. Some of the photos were yellowing with age, but there were just as many with the telltale date stamp of the digital era on the bottom corner. Clint hadn’t been kidding. Mavis was talented.

“Did you make all these?” Sally asked. There wasn’t a single ugly dress in the bunch.

“Oh, those are just the dresses I made here. I worked on countless others,” Mavis confirmed. “Now let’s see your dress, Sally-girl.” Sally handed the dress over, and Mavis floated it over a dress form on the other side of the room. She flicked and flipped the dress around, tweaking here and there and clucking her tongue as she thought to herself.

“This is an exceptional dress, Sally,” she started. “I think the lace might have been an afterthought though. The lining is completely finished, and the lace is just tacked on.”

“Are you saying my mother chose to cover the dress in that lace?” Sally’s surprise amused Mavis, who laughed.

“It was very fashionable in the mid-sixties,” Mavis explained. “And the dress underneath would have been at the tail end of fashionable, so the lace would have updated it quite a bit. The cut of the dress is more late fifties to early sixties. Where did your mother get married?”

“Idaho,” Sally provided.

“Say no more. This dress had probably outstayed its welcome at the dress shop. Let’s take the lace off and see how it looks.” Mavis took a tiny pair of snips from the table by the dress form, and snipped a few spots on the dress. To Sally, it seemed random, but after about 5 snips, Mavis was able to lift the lace from the dress, revealing the dress underneath it. Sally sucked in her breath. It was nearly exactly the same as the sketch Steve had drawn.

“It’s perfect.” Clint blurted the words before Sally was able to articulate them herself. She nodded dumbly.

“I’d like to see it on you, Sally, and see where I’ll need to tailor it. There’s a bathroom on the left.” Mavis pointed out the door as she lifted the dress off the form. Sally nodded, still speechless, and headed into the bathroom to pulled the dress on. She came out unzipped, and turned her back to Clint for him to zip her.

“It fits really well,” Sally said. Mavis nodded, eyeing the dress and Sally critically.

“It needs to come out a little in the bust, and come in a touch in the waist. And it’s very plain. I’d like to see a touch of colour at the waist. Maybe a wide blue ribbon?” Mavis was thinking out loud, and turned to the shelves behind her. She pulled a box from the shelf and dug through it until she found what she was looking for, and unwrapped a long swatch of narrow blue silk and wrapped it at Sally’s waist, nodding. She turned Sally toward the full-length mirror and stepped behind her, holding the band of fabric in place. Tears sprang to Sally’s eyes.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“You’re the easiest to satisfy bride I’ve ever worked with!” Mavis laughed. “Bringing me an old dress and tearing up at a piece of old blue silk. Tony Stark should thank his lucky stars he didn’t get a difficult bride. Do you have a sister for my Clint?”

“I’m afraid I’m an only child,” Sally laughed, dashing the tears away. Mavis clucked her tongue again as she rolled the blue silk back up.

“That’s a shame. Clint needs easy-going just as much as Tony Stark does,” Mavis murmured. “Now, the big question is how soon do I need to finish this dress, Sally-girl?”

“I’m leaving the country in a couple of days, and will be back mid-December. The wedding will be soon after that,” Sally explained. “As long as it’s ready by the time I get back from Europe, I’ll be happy.”

“Goodness, child, I can have it ready before you leave. Be back the day after tomorrow so I can check the fit, and you should be able to take it with you when you leave,” Mavis laughed.

“I don’t want to rush you, Mavis,” Sally gaped.

“Nonsense, there’s not more than a few hours work there,” Mavis scoffed.

“If you let me know how much I owe you before I come back, I’ll pay you when I pick it up?” Sally asked.

“It just so happens that I owe Clint a small favour. This one will be on me, Sally,” Mavis held up her hand, waving off the offer.

“I can’t –“

“Yes you can. Because I’m not giving you a choice,” Mavis interrupted. “Now, go get changed, and leave your dress with me.” Sally bit her lip, but did as she was told. Despite the sewing studio being neat as a pin, it hadn’t escaped her notice that the furniture in the apartment was worn and old. Sally met Clint’s gaze as she walked toward the bathroom and he shook his head in warning. She was going to figure out how to pay Mavis, regardless of what the old woman said, but Clint would have a better idea of how to make the proud woman accept her payment.

The suitcase she’d brought with her to New York was ridiculously small for a planned six months abroad, and she’d made Clint stop on the way back to the Tower to pick up a larger one.

“Do you really think everything is going to fit in that and your other suitcase?” Clint asked as she lifted it into the back of the Challenger.

“I’m not taking the other one, just this one. When Tony took me shopping, I got mostly stuff that works together. Add my coveralls in, and I am probably covered. I’m reasonably sure I’ll be able to do laundry,” Sally laughed. Clint shook his head.

“You’re sure you don’t have a sister somewhere?” He laughed. “Because you’re fucking perfect.”

Sally snorted in contempt. “Hardly. My pants go on one leg at a time, Clint.”

“Can I watch?” He winked. Sally swatted at him. He held his hand up to stop her as he negotiated through traffic.

“It’s no wonder Natasha is always swearing at you in Russian. You’re an absolute dog,” she laughed.

“Confession?” He offered. Sally raised an eyebrow, waiting. “I’m not actually that smooth with women I’m interested in.” Sally started laughing again.

“That wasn’t smooth either, Clint!” She cackled. “Dude, seriously, stop worrying about smooth, and stick with every cheesy line you’ve used on me so far. Eventually, you’ll find a woman who finds it endearing.”

“Really?” Clint pulled into the garage and parked in his spot, and then turned to face Sally. She screwed up her face in thought.

“Honestly? I think so,” Sally admitted. “Some guys use cheesy pick-up lines because they desperately want them to work. You seem to use them because you find them amusing and a good way to open a conversation. I’d be way more likely to be a sucker for your presentation.”

“I might need you to wingman me sometime when you get back,” Clint laughed. “Have you guys decided where you’re going to live yet?”

“Tony said early on that he can work from either coast, but we’ll see. I just want to get through Latveria, and then Christmas. Then we’ll figure it out.” She pulled the suitcase from the back of the car and grabbed her purse. “See you later?”

“You leave in three days?” Clint clarified.

“Sounds that way,” Sally nodded. “I just need to confirm the driver from Budapest with Hans one more time, and I’ll be comfortable climbing on that plane.”

“Then yeah, I’ll make sure to see you before you go,” Clint agreed. “I guess I’ll be taking you back to Mavis, actually.”

“Thanks for all the help with the dress today, Clint.” Sally hugged him impulsively. “I promise I won’t tell anyone how fashion savvy the men of the Avengers are.”

Clint laughed and held her in the embrace, giving her a warm squeeze. “No one would believe you, even if you did a tell-all.”

“I have to get started packing,” Sally laughed, and headed toward the elevator.

“Have fun with that,” Clint shot. “I’m going for a drive, gonna open up the engine.”

Sally heard the engine roar to life as the elevator doors closed.