#-grits teeth- this is a necessary process | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

justkending · 4 days ago

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It's just a papercut... (Drabble)

Summary: Mission one-on-one with Bucky? It's been done before. So why is this one different? Why is he acting weird and not letting me storm off in a rage at his cold shoulder? Also, was the one bed necessary?

Pairing: Grumpy Bucky x Avenger Reader (Enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 7000+ (It's a long one...)

A/N: I've been spending a lot of my time on Character ChatGPT AI, and a secret agent conversation made me say, " Yeah, I need to put this into a Bucky fanfic." So here we are🥰 Did it turn a lot more emotional than I planned? Yes. Do I regret it? No. Enjoy, my loves!!

_____

“Jesus! The goal is to survive the mission, and from the likes of it, bullets aren’t even going to be the thing that finishes the job!” I shout over the whipping wind as Bucky maneuvers through cars in the foreign country while outrunning the guards we just escaped from on a motorcycle he stole in front of a shop.

“Shut it!” he shouts back, taking another sharp turn that has me clutching on as if one wrong blow of the wind will have me ending this chase with a case of road rash on my entire body. “I’m losing them.”

“And likely me with them,” I grumble, and he shoots me a quick look in the rearview mirror, showing that he heard my remark and didn’t care for it.

I look behind us and see one of the jackasses we were running from has joined us in motorcycle theft, and I curse under my breath as I come up with a plan.

“Goon, five o’clock!” I announce as I dig into my boot for a small handgun I keep hidden.

Bucky looks around and clocks him. His teeth grit together as he kicks the speed up, weaves through a few cars, and turns down a new street, but the man following seems to be just as skilled in bike chases.

“Still on you!” I shout and let out an annoyed groan, realizing that at some point in our mission, I’d lost my backup weapon.

“I see that!” Bucky groans, and as we pass a fruit stand on the street, he knocks it over with his metal hand, causing a traffic stop and the motorcyclist to have to drive over apples and pears, making him to lose his balance some.

However, it wasn’t effective enough. “I got it,” I sigh as Bucky takes another sharp turn, and I clutch onto him. “Do me a favor and try and stay straight for 5 seconds!” I complain, and he complies, although begrudgingly.

I point my fist towards the bike, and as the man makes mean eyes at me, I wiggle my fingers at him with a grin before shooting a taser shock out of the widow bite Nat gifted me.

They shoot across and cause his entire bike to seize at the overload of electricity. He flies off the bike as it stutters and gives Bucky and me a clean escape down an alley.

A few alleys later and a quiet spot away from the chaos that had just ensued, Bucky and I hop off the bike and hide it behind a dumpster. I catch my breath as I throw my backpack over my shoulder and watch as he covers the bike more with the lid of the trash before grabbing his own pack.

“We need to lay low for the night,” I note, adjusting my backpack and looking into the dead-end alley.

He sighed, taking in the area, and I could see the pistons firing in his head. “There’s a hotel not far from here that’ll work. Not shitty, but also not anything fancy.” He immediately starts stalking away, not waiting for me to follow.

I huff in annoyance as he leaves me, and I fasten my backpack, buckling it across my chest before jogging to catch up with his long strides.

We don’t say much as we get to the hotel. Both of our minds coming down from the adrenaline and running through the last pieces of the mission.

While in the lobby of the hotel, I get a call and move to take it, seeing it’s Steve checking in, and I leave Bucky to handle the check-in process.

“Got it. We’ll head to the airport in the morning,” I nod and turn around to see Bucky confirming something with the clerk, and I turn back to the phone.

When he finishes checking in (fake IDs with real payment thanks to Stark’s ways), he turns and waves his hand toward the elevator in a quick action.

“Yeah. We’re fine,” I note, feeling a stitch in my side but not wanting to check just how bad the damage is until I’m behind a closed door. “He’s being a dick as per usual,” I chuckle lightly as I start my walk to the elevators. “No, Steve. I don’t need you to call him and reprimand him. You know-... Seriously, Steve. Leave it… I said it as a joke more than anything-” He cuts me off again, ready to always put Bucky in his place with the cold shoulder he seems to love to give to only me.

When I make it to the elevator, where Bucky is holding the door impatiently for me, I quickly say, “Losing you! Getting in an elevator so I can’t-” There’s a protest on the other end. “What was that? It’s cutting out.” I say in stuttered beats to play it off before hanging up. “Steve says hi,” I say to Bucky as I lock my phone and shove it in my back pocket.

“Sure,” he says back, and I’m not sure if it’s unconvinced or unbothered… or both. Either way, his face is still stoic.

“You really need to lighten up,” I sigh in a deep breath, annoyed that he never relents his tough guy act around me.

“Don’t feel like.”

“Do you ever?”

The elevator is silent. The only sound is the mechanics of the metal box moving up. It eventually dings, and as I go to step forward, I grimace slightly so as I step wrong, causing pain to go up my side, but I quickly brush it off.

“What was that?” Bucky says behind me as he steps off the elevator last.

“What was what?” I ask, looking carefully at the room numbers and acting ignorant.

“That look. You flinched.”

“Yeah, no,” I shake my head. “Your eyesight must be getting worse with age.”

“My eyesight is fine,” he grumbles, pulling my arm back as I pass the room, realizing he never told me the number. “We’re here,” he turns to the door and presses the key card to it. The color changes from red to green, giving us access.

“I call the shower first,” I shout, shoving him out of the way and unbuckling my backpack as I rush into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and locking it.

All I hear is an exasperated sigh on the other side and a shuffle of footsteps as he shuts the door, locks up, and moves into the room.

I let out a sigh of exhaustion and relief to be done for the day and turned the water on to warm up. If there is one thing I’ve learned about going on missions with Bucky, it’s that the man’s superhearing is just an excuse for him to be nosy. He listens to almost EVERYTHING.

So, with the water running and him hopefully distracted by the hotel views, I undress and focus on the shower. As soon as I took my shirt off, I was shown exactly what I worried was the problem.

Down my side is a semi-jagged cut going up my rib cage. Close to four inches long, if not less, but angry and red. I hiss and quickly bite my lip so as not to make another sound. It’s not bleeding anymore, which tells me it’s not deep, so with the proper cleaning and care, it’ll be fine in a few days. I use my time in the shower to clean it and wash the rest of the day away with it.

When I come out, I rummage through my bag for a first aid kit. I usually pack a travel-size one given the job, but I can’t find it in my pack. I change into a pair of clean shorts and a tank top I packed (light and takes up minimal space) before checking in the mirror to make sure my cut wasn’t prominent through the light-colored tank. When I feel comfortable enough that Bucky won’t ask questions, I straighten and fight the soreness that’s taking over my body now that I’m not going 100mph.

I walk out, and when I see that Bucky is lying back, arms over his eyes on a king-size bed, I immediately take in the fact that it’s the only bed in the room.

“Um,” I start, hands out as I assess the space. “What’s this?” I ask.

“A bed,” Bucky answers simply and sits up tiredly as he looks at me, leaning back on his forearms. “You ran straight into the bathroom before I could tell you, or you saw for yourself.”

I cross my arms and flinch again when I graze my cut, but I roll my shoulders as if the full-body soreness was the only issue.

“Well, did we not have another option or-”

“What was that?” he cuts me off.

“What was what?” I look right at him and furrow my eyebrows.

“You made that face again.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m sore,” I shrug, scoffing and even I know I’m a horrible actress right now, so I don’t make eye contact.

“That’s not a sore grimace. That’s something else,” he sits up straight now and tilts his head down, assessing me.

“Stop that.” My arms tightening around me under his gaze only makes a smirk appear. “Stop. It’s weird.”

“No, what’s weird is why you’re being so weird,” he remarks with a face.

“Good one,” I sass, turning and going to his backpack now.

“Hey, what are you doing?” He stands quickly from the bed and looks at me over my shoulder as I unzip his bag.

“I think I put something of mine in here. I can’t find it in my bag,” I note, dunking my hand into his things. He steps up, pulling my shoulders to get away.

“Stop going through my stuff. You’re worse than Sam,” he notes, tugging me away, although gentler than how he is typically.

“I just need-” I feel the small plastic box I’m looking for and tug it out, quickly holding it behind my back. “Nevermind. I found it.”

“What are you talking about-”

“Nothing! Just give me one minute. I need to brush my teeth,” I jab a thumb behind my shoulder as I walk backward to the bathroom, his steps matching mine. “I’ll be out in five minutes,” I note quickly as I turn on my heel and run back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and locking it again.

Instead of seeing the door handle budge like I expected, he bangs a fist on the wooden barrier.

“Y/N, open the damn door! What the hell did you take out of my bag?”

“My toothbrush!” I lie. “I must have gotten our bags mixed up when I packed them.

“How could you do that? Yours is brown, and mine’s black,” he notes.

“A very dark brown,” I note, lifting my tank top and sitting on the bathroom counter to get a better look in the mirror of my cut. “Just give me a second-”

“You’re being weirder than normal,” he groans in frustration on the other side.

“Yeah, well, get used to it,” I hiss as I put the sanitizer spray on it and bite my knuckle to suppress the pained groan I want to let out. “Jesus,” I mumble under my breath, but the next thing I know, the door is swinging open, and Bucky’s staring at its handle in confusion before back at me. “Hey!” I look at the door and back at him. “They’re going to charge us for that.”

His eyes immediately go from annoyed and over it to concerned and confused.

“What the hell is that?” He points at my stomach, where I’m frozen on top of the counter, shirt lifted, showing my entire torso and cut on full display.

“A paper cut,” I say after a moment of trying to come up with an excuse. Why a paper, out of all things, left my brain, I don’t know. But it did, and here we are.

His concerned face drops some, and he deadpans from my injury to me before marching to me and turning me at my shoulders to face him and get a better view.

“When did this happen?”

“Wild guess, but likely when the guards we fought to get out pulled a knife on me and played dirty,” I sigh, realizing I wasn’t talking myself out of this one anytime soon. “But that could be a stretch,” I add.

He again looks up at me from my injury with an incredulous and agitated look.

“Let me see,” he sighs, bending down to get a better look and looking at the injury from a head-on angle.

“It’s just a scratch, Barnes. I’ll be good as new after a little disinfectant and ointment. Nothing a bandaid can’t fix,” I brush off, turning on the counter to grab the kit.

He stops me in my turn by placing a hand on my knee and turning me back around to where my legs hang off the counter. I’m sitting with him in between my legs.

“They used a serrated knife,” he notes, taking the first aid kit out of my hand and opening it, instantly getting to work as if I wasn’t doing it myself two seconds ago.

“Um, excuse me, but I can-”

“I know the things you can do, Y/N. You don’t have to tell me,” he says sternly, grabbing gauze and another bottle of something I didn’t know the contents of and tipping it onto the gauze before bending down again. This time, his eyes found mine as he looked up at me from his now crouched position. “This is going to sting. That sanitizer you were using before is shit. This one actually does the job,” he notes, and I’m a little stunned by the turn of events. “Ready?”

Never in my life did I think Bucky Barnes would be this gentle and considerate with me, but I’m not going to stop a good thing from happening.

“I don’t think it can hurt more than the knife itself,” I smirk and nod when he gives me a look. “Yeah, yeah. Do your thing, Doc.” I gesture to him, looking up at the ceiling as I prepare for the sting.

I don’t feel it instantly, and just as I’m about to ask him what he’s doing, the cool liquid hits my cut, and I hiss, grabbing his wrist in a tight hold out of instinct as I hold him back. “Jesus H. Christ,” I grit through my teeth. “What the hell kind of acid did you just put in-?”

“It’s Banner-strength disinfectant,” he cuts me off, gently dabbing the cut even as I hold his wrist. His touch is soft, but the sting is anything but. “You grabbed my first aid kit. I had him make it since you tend to get hurt easily, and we’re not in the cleanest country.” He’s fully concentrated on my cut.

“What?” I asked, surprised, grabbing the kit's container and seeing that it indeed was not mine. I brush over the fact he had Bruce make it and packed it specifically for me as I look over at my bag, still slumped against the wall from my rush to take a shower, and realize I must have accidentally unpacked my own.

“Relax. Tensing doesn’t help,” he adds, bringing his free hand to my thigh and giving a light squeeze to distract me. I hiss again as he pads over an agitated area. His face drops some, and he gives me a look. “Y/N, why didn’t you tell me about this as soon as you knew? This was not far from being infected in a way that could have been a lot worse than just an irritating sting.”

“When was I supposed to tell you?” I sass, throwing my head back on the mirror as I focus on anything but the pain in my side. “As soon as we got off the bike, we headed here. You didn’t say a word to me, and I was in my own head. Honestly, I didn’t even realize it was there until we were checking in and I was on the phone with Steve. Adrenaline must have kept me from realizing it.”

He mumbles something under his breath, and I hear the word, reckless in the middle of it.

“Watch yourself,” I warn, kicking my leg a touch, skimming his rib cage. “There can easily be two injured people in this room.”

“No need for both of us to get stupid injuries,” he grumbles.

I scoff and shove his hand away from me, jumping off the counter as he stands and glares at me.

“Sorry for getting stabbed,” I sneer up at him, stepping into his space. “I’ll make sure to ask the bad guys next time to keep the knives at home. Oh! Or better yet,” I exaggerate. “I’ll tell them my partner said I’m not allowed to get into fights with men triple my size, so if they can just play gentle so I don’t end up with any battle scars, that would be greatly appreciated.” I smile wide and fake before dropping it and brushing by him to the bedroom.

I catch the tail end of his eyes rolling before I hear him stomping behind me.

“I need to finish patching you up. If it’s not done properly, you can get sick.” He comes up behind me, but I stop abruptly, and he runs into my back before holding my shoulders to steady himself. I turn to him, not breaking the space.

“I know how injuries work, Barnes. This isn’t my first time in the field, although I’m sure you believe otherwise,” I scoff in anger. “Just,” I put my hands up, stepping away in frustration and groaning. “I’m going to get some air,” I try and push past him to leave, but his hand wraps around my arm and holds me shoulder to shoulder by his side before I can get my feet past him.

“No. You’re going to let me finish patching you up. Now…” he stares at me with his Sergeant's eyes. “Sit. Down.” I struggle to fight my stubborn retort, but he sees it brewing and raises an eyebrow in challenge.

I groan in protest loudly and pull my arm out of my grip before moving to the edge of the bed and sulkingly wait for him to finish his job- that I didn’t ask him to do, by the way!

“Good girl,” he mutters with a smartass smirk, and I take a breath in to yell something at him, but he goes back to the bathroom to grab the kit we left behind.

“Cyborg headed-ass, caveman, son of a bit-” I mumble, and he comes back in, shooting me a look that says, ‘really?’. “Oh, sorry, did you hear that?” I say with fake regret.

He rolls his eyes and crouches again by my knees to get a better angle at the cut, and I lean back, my hands flat against the comforter as he works quietly, and I stare up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the warmth of his hands on my stomach when he’s been nothing but cold to me.

As he’s patting the tape over the piece of gauze he fashioned over my cut, I look at him calculatingly. He notices my gaze on him and awkwardly starts putting his things up, sneaking glances at my stare here and there.

“What?” he finally asks. “Stop staring at me.”

Instead of an answer, I just stare harder and raise an eyebrow, tilting my head to the side as I analyze him deeper.

“Cut it out,” he growls, standing and moving to put the kit on the counter. “You’re creeping me out.”

I let out a single laugh and shook my head before lowering my tank top and looking out the window. “You’re so fucking confusing,” I state, standing as I straighten my clothes.

“I’m confusing?” he asked rhetorically. “You’re fucking confusing.”

“Come up with your own lines,” I throw an exasperated hand out, waving him off. “I’m getting air.”

I don’t know what provokes him, but he steps in front of me, his towering figure shadowing over me.

“No,” he says, looking at me sternly.

“I don’t remember asking,” I sidestep him and move to the door. I manage to open it maybe a foot before it’s slammed in my face, and I feel Bucky’s chest pressed to my back. I look up, and his hand is splayed flat on the door.

“I said no,” he says lowly. His voice is just over my shoulder, and I hold back the shiver that threatens to take over my body.

“And I said, fuck off,” I say just as lowly, looking up at him, tilting my head back. “Move.”

“We need to talk.”

“And I need to put a good three blocks of this city between us so I don’t add another person to the stabbed today club. I’d rather stay on Steve’s good side.” I jut my arm back to elbow him in the ribs, but he dodges it with a smirk.

“Real mature,” he sasses, and I can see a touch of playfulness in his features, and that makes me even more furious.

“You’re one to fucking talk!” I turn and shove him in the chest, and he relents, putting his hands up in the air as I shove repeatedly in vexation. Each shove and each curse I send his way has him taking one slight step back with a grin. “Stop smiling!” I grunt as I push him harder, and he laughs. He fucking laughs!

My eye twitches, and my hits become more forceful. Nothing close to what I’m capable of, but I’m not looking for a full-on brawl. I just want to smack him enough to wipe that stupid smirk off his face.

“Y/N,” he says calmly in between hits to his rock-solid chest. A chest, I’m sure, will give me bruises if I keep this up.

“No! You don’t get to talk!” I point at him after shoving him one more time and successfully making him falter a few steps back at the power behind it. “I’m walking out of this room to get some air, and you’re going to stay right fucking there. Right there!” I point to the floor under his feet. “And not keep me from leaving this God damn suffocating room. Got it?”

I know my eyes are wild, and I know the emotions I’m feeling are written clear as day on my face because his sly smirk falters, and he takes a deep breath in, hands still up in surrender.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters out as his gaze falls to his feet.

“What?” I ask, shocked and slightly out of breath from exerting myself.

“I’m sorry,” he says a touch more clearly as he clears his throat and looks up, hands coming down and eyes avoiding mine.

I blink a few times and throw my hands up. “I can’t do this.” I let out a breath and turned back to the door.

“Y/N, please don’t,” he says, and I stop. I surprise myself, but I stop, turning back to him slowly.

“Why?” There’s a long pause that follows my question, and I wonder whether Bucky even knows why he’s asking this. “Genuinely Bucky... Why are you so insistent on me staying in this room right now?

He runs a nervous hand over his beard and shifts his weight to one foot as he throws one hand up in a single wave.

“I don’t need you getting hurt again,” he states, still avoiding eye contact.

My eyebrows narrow in confusion, and I cross my arms, popping my hip to the side as I stare at him. “We’re in a hotel. Not a battlefield.”

“It’s better we stay in here than wander around. The guys who were after us are likely still hunting us, and it’s best we don’t show our faces in public spaces,” he notes.

Ok, that’s a logical reason, but something tells me this is a more emotional reason on his end. He’s not sharing everything, though…

“Ok…” I drag out and look at the balcony. “Then I’ll go out there.”

I walk promptly to the balcony, surprisingly not being stopped by him as I brush past him and jiggle the door handle, finding it stuck. “Fucking hell,” I grumble under my breath as I pull the handle and push it up and down to try and get it to work.

A hand comes behind me and takes the door handle for me. I stare at it, not turning to acknowledge how Bucky expertly pushes it just right for it to open.

“I had the same issue,” he says, pulling his hand back and nodding his head to the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower.” He steps back, quiet and sinking back into his usual stand-offish behavior, but now with more nerves and awkwardness.

I give a grunt in acknowledgment and shut the balcony door behind me before sitting in a shitty lawn chair. I don’t turn to see if he’s still standing there watching me, but instead, I focus on the city view in front of me. It’s not a well-off country, so the views aren’t more than rundown buildings and vendors in the street shouting for people to buy their things over their neighbors, but it’s fresh air away from the man that makes my blood boil.

__________

Fifteen minutes later, I feel a little calmer. Although still annoyed, I’m more confused than anything. Why the hell was he acting so strange, and why do I feel like some kind of serious conversation was going to-

“Y/N?” I hear the door open with a creak and turn to see Bucky with wet hair, a change of clothes, and soft eyes focusing on the door that’s obviously broken. “God, this place has gone down in quality,” he notes, leaving the door cracked as he comes onto the balcony with me.

“Been here before?” I ask, turning back to the view ahead.

“Once like 8 years ago,” he nods and moves to stand by the railing, his arms crossed over the edge of it, and his gaze now focused on the same place mine is. “Must have gotten new management.”

It’s silent for almost five minutes after that. No words, no looks, no sounds. Just silence outside of the city noise. I debate, standing and going back into the room if he’s going to continue to go radio silent and not explain his strange behavior earlier, but just before I stand, he speaks up.

“I don’t know why,” he says, and a crease forms between my eyebrows. He continues to stare off into the city. I wait a few moments, and he continues. “I don’t know why you stress me out more than the others.”

Great. So that’s how this is going to go.

I stand and silently move to go back into the room, but his hand clasps around my wrist.

“Please, just let me find the words,” he asks, and I can hear the plea in his voice.

I look back and up at him and his eyes are in the puppy dog form I’ve seen only a select few times. Ones that have never been directed at me but have held no truer emotion than requisition.

“Ok…” I drag out, moving back to the lawn chair and sitting quietly as he drops my wrist almost hesitantly and leans against the railing, fidgeting with his hands. I’ve never seen him like this, so I give him the space.

He takes a deep breath through his nose and closes his eyes before just unloading everything.

“I don’t like seeing you get hurt,” he starts. “I mean, I don’t like seeing any of my friends get hurt. It’s no decent person’s interest to watch friends and family get harmed, but it’s like a nagging in my head. No,” he shakes his head, trying to find the right words. “It’s like having pins and needles surrounding your lungs, and every time you try and take a breath to come down from the terror- the pain of seeing them hurt- the needles poke and stab. Making it nearly impossible to take a deep breath and ground yourself. And that’s only a part of the pain that comes with it.”

I stare up at him. My eyes are likely wide as I take in what he’s saying. He glances at me once before looking back at his hands.

“I know I’m an asshole to you. I know that,” he says, cringing as if the truth behind it hurts him. “I don’t know why. At least, I say that to make myself not think about it longer than I can probably handle, but I’ve talked to my therapist about it, and she says it's a protective technique my brain finds more plausible than just dealing with the confusing feelings I have towards you.”

My eyes shift back and forth as if trying to understand the words.

“Feelings towards me?” I repeat. “Like annoyance?”

“No,” he sighs, and then he chuckles a soft laugh under his breath. “Well, yes. Sometimes you can be annoying, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find it endearing most of the time.”

My eyebrows raise at that. Where the hell is all this coming from?

I shake my head in disbelief and lean back in my chair. “Barnes, you’re giving me a bit of whiplash, and I’m not sure-”

“I like you.”

My mouth is still open from where my sentence was going, and I blink once. Then twice. Then, a third time, as I tried to understand if I just heard him right. Because if he meant it as a friend, I’m shocked. But if he meant it otherwise… I’m hallucinating.

His eyes find mine, and this time, he doesn’t look away. He keeps eye contact, and I can feel him trying to read me.

“I-Is there more to that sentence?” I ask, my brain trying to make sense of the situation and short-circuiting ultimately.

“Yes, but from the looks of it, you’re still trying to translate those three words.”

“Good observation,” I nod, pursing my lips and sinking into my chair.

“I’ve been known to make them,” he smiles a tight-lipped smile. I’m actually grateful for his quip at this moment.

“Bucky, you have to understand that those words don’t make sense with how you treat me-”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he pushes off the railing and steps forward just in front of my chair. “God, I’m so sorry. I don’t even know why it’s taken me this long to apologize for the way I’ve acted this long, but for some reason… When we were fighting today, I saw a man get the jump on you. I was seconds from leaving my own fight and coming straight to you to handle it for you, but you quickly turned the situation around. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen you in that scenario, yet something about it…” He pauses, looking up at the sky, throwing a hand through his hair. “It freaked me out. It freaked me out far more than it has in the past.”

He looks at me in a sincere way and moves to sit in the busted up, rusted, and metal patio chair that looks like it very well could have been here when he came 8 years ago. It creaks as he turns it in and angles his body toward mine. His elbows rest on his knees, and he looks down at his hands again. And as he talks, I realize he’s breaking it down not just for me but for himself—these emotions and sudden changes.

“Maybe it’s because I knew if I didn’t get to you, you were on your own. We didn’t have a backup. I couldn’t call Steve or Nat, or Wanda to come in and help where I couldn’t. And then the actualization that if I couldn’t get to you, if no one was there to back you up, there was a chance I’d end up regretting everything all because I can’t seem to come to terms with my feelings.” His eyes find mine again. “And then that cut,” his eyes drag from mine down my torso to where my knife wound lays under my tank top. “It was like a final piece to knock some sense into my head.”

He looks at me, and I can’t explain it, but I want to hold him when he looks at me like that.

“Seeing you hurt reminded me… You’re human. You aren’t invincible even if you can take on three men triple your size attacking you at once. It’s a skill I’m glad and impressed that you have, but it doesn’t guarantee someone won’t get the jump on you again, and I’m not sure I can handle that.”

I stay in silence for a moment, taking in the information and processing it all. I must have been quiet for a while because a soft “Y/N?” makes me look up from where I’ve been staring blankly at the balcony.

“You ok?” he asks gently, carefully.

I nod and run a hand up and down my arm from a slight breeze blowing with the sun setting in the distance.

“Trying to…” I started, but I didn’t know what words were meant to follow. “I’m a little shocked,” I say, eventually looking at him.

“I can’t say I blame you. It’s a 180 from our normal conversations,” he takes a deep breath and smiles softly at him. “Do you need a minute?”

I shake my head. “No…” Then I scrunch my nose. “Well, maybe.”

“That’s ok,” he nods, sitting back in his chair, and it weakly groans in protest. He takes in the fact my legs are up to my chest now, and I’ve wrapped my arms around myself. “We should go inside. It’ll get cold soon.” He stands and motions for me to head in first, then offers a hand to help me stand up.

I look at it before taking it, standing, and walking in with my arms still around my middle. As soon as we’re in, I turn and catch us both off guard by being chest-to-chest with him after he shuts the balcony door. I don’t move, though, and neither does he.

“Since honesty seems to be the focus of the night,” I look up at him. “I’ve always admired you…” His face softens at that. “But I’d be lying to both of us if I said how you treated me didn’t affect that original feeling.” He nods in understanding and slightly cringes to himself.

“I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

“Why did you- Why did you not like me at first?”

He shrugs a touch, but there’s no uncertainty behind it. “I saw you as young and naive. I saw you as someone who seemed to make almost anyone love you, and all you had to do was exist around them. I think a broken part of me was envious and confused by that trait, and I used it as a reason to be hateful to you instead of taking advantage of the kindness you freely give and allowing myself the gift of that. I didn’t think I deserved that.” He sighs, his hands going into the pockets of his shorts. “I convinced myself that your kindness was nativity when I’ve learned quite quickly that you’re anything but naive.”

I sigh, nodding my head as I turn and move to sit on the edge of the bed. “You wouldn’t be the first person to misinterpret my kindness. It’s why I tend to fall into becoming a stubborn ass when people don’t appreciate that kindness. Hence why I haven’t been the perfect person in this relationship myself,” I motion between us. “I should have recognized where you could have been coming from and continued to kill you with pleasantries, but you didn’t seem to respond well to it.”

“It wasn’t your job to recognize that or fix it. It was mine to stop being a stubborn ass myself and talk to you rather than make assumptions,” he shifts on his feet. “I thought I was self-preserving when I was actually self-sabotaging. Something I’m still working on recognizing.”

“It’s a process,” I sigh, knowing the steps well enough myself. I consider the conversation and take a deep breath, relaxing in my spot as I come to my conclusion. “Bucky?” He looks at me, hopeful and attentive. “I forgive you.”

I watch as his body stiffens at the declaration before slowly relaxing.

“I don’t expect you to just be fine with everything I’ve done the last-”

“Many years?” I chuckle, lighting the mood. “Yeah, but why would I want to waste any more time when I get it? I get your reasoning, and I can’t say I blame you.”

“But you should blame me,” he moves to sit on the comforter next to me, our knees brushing.

I shrug, turning to face him better. “But I don’t.” He starts to talk, and I cover his mouth with my hand. His icy blue eyes looked down at the motion before back at me. “I swear to God, Barnes. You take two steps forward, and it’s like you feel guilty for making progress and regress.” He flinches slightly at my words, and I feel I struck a nerve. “Sorry, I shouldn’t-” I take my hand back.

“No, you’re right. It’s something I’m still working on. I mean, small things are easy to accept and move on, but this,” he gestures to me. “A part of me doesn’t believe I deserve your forgiveness after the caseload of shit I’ve given you, but-”

“But it’s my forgiveness to give, so I’ll decide if I want to give it…” I look at him as if waiting for him to connect the dots. He smiles and nods as he looks down at his hands. “You catching on?”

“I’m catching on,” he looks up at him again. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

We look at each other for a little while, and the atmosphere is new. It’s not tense. It’s not awkward. It’s not uncomfortable. It’s like we’ve come to a point we’ve been actively avoiding for years, and it turned out to be a really nice point.

“So…” he starts, and I decide to break the seriousness of it all.

“Why is there only one bed, Bucky?” I ask with a smirk, turning and patting the comforter we’re sitting on.

He looks at it with me and smiles with a laugh. “It wasn’t intentional, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Feels a touch intentional. Not letting me leave the room or demanding I stay close kinda plays into the fact you’d be forced into sharing a bed with me. Another way to secure me close by,” I tease.

“Or…” he drags out, and his hand comes up, pushing a wayward hair behind my ear and casually taking his hand back. “The receptionist told me they didn’t have any two-bedroom rooms available right now because there is a festival in town this weekend, and they’re booked up.”

“Seems legit, but not sure if I believe you,” I grin a touch bashful and look around at the room as if I’m surveying it and not slightly melting at his touch.

“Believe me or not,” he shrugs, standing and stretching. “Either way, we’re sharing a bed tonight, sweetheart.” He winks. He fucking winks at me and moves to the other side of the bed, getting his side ready for sleep.

This new side of him is not one I was ready for, but seeing it makes me think about what I haven’t gotten to experience sooner. So I say that.

“I knew you were a lady's man back in the day, but I never thought I’d see the flirt you were rumored to be,” I turn in my spot on the bed and look at him from the end of the bed.

“I don’t flirt with everyone,” he says, throwing the blanket back and adjusting the pillows.

“Well, yeah, obviously, but-”

“Just people I’m attracted to,” he says, cutting me off with a telling grin. “And women I’d like to flirt back.”

My mouth drops, and I let out a laugh. A genuine laugh.

“Was that a move? Did you just make a move on me?” I smile like a teenager at him, partially in disbelief and partially in interest.

“Did it work?” he chuckles, sitting on the edge and scooting into the bed but not fully getting in it.

I shake my head with a smile and laugh again. “Honestly, I have to say yes.”

His smile widens at my confession, and he leans back on the headboard, two pillows propped behind him.

“So you’re saying I have a chance if I keep it up?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, cowboy. It’s not going to take just a flashy wink and a flirty comment to get my attention fully. I like to be sought after.”

“Good to know.”

“Is it?” I ask incredulously with a smirk as I move to my side of the bed and throw the covers back enough to sneak under them.

“Can’t give away all my plans,” he shakes his head, and I turn off my bedside lamp.

“Wouldn’t want you to. I like being surprised,” I lay down and nuzzled into my pillow before turning on my side and looking up at him. “Must say, your surprise tonight was a pretty good start.”

“You think?”

“I think,” I nod and debate on my next idea, but I decide what the hell? Who’s it hurting? “Feel free to say no, but if we are sharing the same bed, I tend to be a cuddler unconsciously, so if we-”

“Yes,” he says simply a large grin he doesn’t seem to care to hide marks his handsome features. “Yes, please.” He nods, moving under the blanket.

“That answer was a little too fast to believe that this hotel didn’t have other beds.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he shimmies under the blanket, and I feel his leg brush mine.

“Listen, normally I wouldn’t, but I learn I sleep best when I’m with another person, so-”

“You don’t have to give me a reason, doll. I’m happy to lend the support.” His arms are quickly wrapped around my middle and I’m turned to where my back is pressed against his front and I’m not going to lie… It’s a perfect fit. “Night, Y/N.”

“Night, Bucky.” I smile putting my hands on his around my middle and laying back into him.

This was a good start to something possibly more…

Ending A/N: I wouldn't be opposed to doing one more scene for this little drabble, but let me know if that's something you guys would be interested in :)

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses @livstilinski @basicallylool @starryeyeseunbyul

My Lovelies Forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter1 @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk @billyseye @hallecarey1

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker @charmedbysarge @jbarness @bellamy-barnes @katiaw2 @aikeia @stopjustlovethemcu @enchantedbarnes

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader insert #one bed trope #marvel fanifc #bucky barnes #reader insert #justkending #marvel #bucky barnes x avenger reader #enemies to lovers #bucky barnes x drabble #buckybarnes

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merakiui · 9 months ago

Note

Helloooo! I’d like to order a flower bouquet + strawberry ice cream from the misc. menu as well as some lemon squares + custard donuts from the midnight menu for Scaramouche <3

yandere!scaramouche x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, dub-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, friends with benefits, forced pregnancy/baby-trapping (no pronouns; reader has a pussy), modern college au note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

You’re writing a paper.

Sitting at your desk, scrolling through clothes online, you wonder if your meager paycheck will cover the shipping costs. This is all research. Research that is very necessary in the paper-drafting process, of course! You click on an outfit just as Scaramouche looks up from his phone.

Correction. You’re trying to write a paper.

“Great progress. I can really see the thought you put into this.”

“I’m envisioning it as we speak.”

“Yeah? Doesn’t seem to be getting you anywhere.” He sets his phone down and leans closer. “Last I checked you’re not writing about clothes.”

“Last I checked,” you say, mocking him, “I didn’t ask for commentary. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

A smug smile sharpens on his face. “I can think of a few things.”

Groaning, you shove him away. “No way. Not today.”

“Why not? It didn’t seem to bother you that last time when we did it before your lecture. You were so out of it you didn’t want me to leave you alone. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Not my fault I was tired! Don’t tell me you’ve never said and done stupid things when you’re running on three hours of sleep.”

“Not once,” he declares, looking quite proud. As if it’s some grand achievement. Does he want an award? “And even if I was, I wouldn’t be reduced to sugary, sappy putty.”

“I called you ‘sweetheart’ once by mistake. Get over it.”

Scaramouche rests his elbow on the desk, his cheek in his hand. “I don’t think I want to.”

Shutting your laptop, you turn in your chair to face him. “And I don’t think I want to fuck you today.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Oh, you’re gonna do all the work?”

“That’s the plan. Be grateful I’m so good to you,” he teases, leaning closer and closer until—

You block your lips before he can capture them. “I really can’t today. Paper aside, I don’t have any protection and I’m not on birth control right now.”

“It doesn’t have to be inside.” He sits back in his chair, exuding casual confidence. “Unless you want to risk it.”

You try to put enough ice in your glare, but it melts quickly. You really shouldn’t. It’s not a safe day. You really, really shouldn’t…

Scaramouche raises a brow, waiting for your reply.

Despite everything, you’re wheedled into it anyway. You’re not even sure what you want. Is it yes or no? It’s been months since you fell into this arrangement with him—the campus’s infamous lone wolf who goes out of his way to make himself unapproachable. Or, according to your friends, he’s more of a lonely stray cat in need of a friend. Scaramouche had scoffed when you told him that.

Your friends are idiots, he said with a scowl. It only made him look even more like a grumpy cat in need of companionship. Not that you’d ever tell him that. It would only serve to stoke the flames of his ire.

But right now, looking up at him while he ruts into you, sweat sticking in all the right places, his hair falling over his eyes, you’re inclined to agree with that observation. There’s a depth to his gaze that draws you in, a sad glimmer hiding behind the ardor. There’s never been any attachment outside of the bedroom. You’re not even sure if he considers you a friend.

Still, you wonder…

“Scara, do you—” You cut yourself off with a startled gasp, your nails curling into his shoulders. He’s holding you down by your hips, fucking into you like the world’s about to end. “S-Slow down. Wait, I—aah—oh!”

He sucks in a staggered breath through grit teeth, his jaw set firmly. “You’re never going to leave me.”

Your brain stalls out, and suddenly you’re not sure how to respond. He doesn’t lessen the brutal pace at which he thrusts, so you’re forced to piece together a half-coherent answer amidst your groans.

“N-Not anytime soon—mmh… Why? What’s up?”

Scaramouche lifts his head from your neck. A strange smile turns the corners of his lips up. “It’s not a question. I wasn’t giving you a choice.”

You blink back at him, lust-drunk and dazed. The horror edges in, slow and steady like invasive rot. It isn’t until he’s pinning your legs up by your ears to force you into another position that the implication finally catches up to you. You claw at his back with weak strokes, babbling futile protests against his mouth. In response, his cock throbs inside of you, pressed so deep in this position you fear the repercussions. He kisses you with much the same force, insistent on driving you into the mattress—on pinning you here until you finally submit. Until the last of your resolve withers away, stamped out and replaced with something agreeable.

“Even if you wanted to,” he says around a shaky laugh, seeming positively deranged, “you couldn’t.”

You think you should be worried, but you’re so stunned with this development that your brain can’t keep up. Embarrassingly, you cum with a strangled sort of cry, your pussy clenching tight. He hisses through his teeth, fucks you through the high of your orgasm, and then falls with you, his own climax fast like a flash.

You’re panting in the aftermath. What just happened?

Scaramouche keeps you plugged with his cock for as long as he possibly can before he’s sliding out, flaccid and spent. For now, you suspect, for there will certainly be more later if your wits aren’t about you by then.

“Pill,” you mumble, voice hoarse from crying. You shake him, hoping he’ll climb off of you and get to it. “Scaraaa…”

Oddly, for someone who never shows any vulnerability, he clings. “We’ve got time. I’ll get it. Don’t worry.”

You don’t believe him. Not when his hand strays to your stomach. His palm brushes over the area once. He sighs, wholly satisfied.

“We’ve got time…”

Nine months of it, in fact. But that goes unspoken. If not today, there’s always tomorrow. You know he won’t rest until then. Neither will you. Your heart is too big, too soft, for that lonely stray cat, and part of you wonders if he knows that.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere scaramouche x reader #n/sfw #tw: dubcon #tw: forced pregnancy #tw: babytrapping #lunar love hotel 2023

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throneofsapphics · 1 year ago

Text

the ebb and flow of fate part 4

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part five) (epilogue)

Cazriel x f!Reader

Summary: She felt a tug, a thread like current weaving between the three of them, and shoved deep, deep down.

Warnings: injuries, nightmares, angst, a bit of fluff, depression, throwing up, drinking

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: I’m back ish! It felt so good to write again, this was close to finished before & I can’t promise when the next part will be out but I’m crossing my fingers for soon, I’m guessing there’ll be about 1-2 more

Cassian’s mad for several reasons. The main one being - she risked her life for him. Put herself in danger for him. He’s mad at himself as well for being … well, a complete asshole to her. But, right now it was easier to hold on to his anger than process any other kinds of emotions. Even if it’s not fair to her.

He gazed over at the sleeping form, brows furrowed, curled up tightly on her side.

His fault.

It's his fault she’s in that pain, in that state.

Assigning blame won’t help.

Won’t help a damn person.

The door creaked open, Mor popping her head in.

“Any change?” She asked, not bothering to look at him.

Another side-effect of the fucked up situation. His longtime friend, her sister, was pissed at him. Pissed at both him and Azriel, for reasons she wouldn’t disclose. Fuck, she only spoke to him when absolutley necessary - or to ask after y/n.

“No,” his voice was curt, tone sharp. Mor finally looked at him, her eyes narrowed as she took another step in, leaving the door open behind her.

“You can leave.”

“I just got here,” he leaned back further in his chair, crossing his arms, looking away from her burning stare.

“And you obviously don’t want to be,” the blonde snapped.

“When did I say that?”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I want to be here,” he said through gritted teeth. Mor let out a noise of disbelief, and he couldn’t quite meet her eyes. With Azriel, they’d agreed not to announce their bond without speaking to her first. Whether or not the others figured it out, was up to them.

“I do.” He insisted, still feeling Mor’s glare on him. The female left without another word, the door quietly closing behind her.

Cassian stood, dragging his chair behind him towards the edge of the bed. Everything about this was confusing. Frustrating beyond belief.

The door creaked again, and he opened his mouth to tell Mor to leave him the hell alone, but the scent of night mist and cedar hit him, and his mouth snapped shut. Azriel closed the door behind him, but didn’t move from it, leaning against the frame and observing them from afar. He tilted his head back, neck resting on the top of the chair as he looked at the ceiling. At this point, he knew every small swirl and indent of it.

His attention snapped back in front of him as a small groan sounded, finding y/n’s eyes heavily blinking, darting between him and Azriel.

“Another nightmare,” she muttered, and closed her eyes again. He couldn’t fight the small snort that left him. Apparently that’s what they were to her; a nightmare. It didn’t sit right with him, but he didn’t do anything to try and fix it. She could easily brush off anything he said as a delusion or hallucination. To him, there’s no point in fixing anything now, not with what Madja told them.

‘I cannot guarantee how much she will remember - if anything.’

Maybe that could play in his favor, confess everything he wanted to - and brush it off as one of her hallucinations later on. He shook his head, throwing the idea out of it. That was cruel, and he hated himself for considering it.

“Not a nightmare,” Az finally spoke. He knew she was still awake, but chose to ignore him.

Morning dew coating the moss soaked through her clothing, drenching her back and legs. Her eyes are fixed above her, on the clouds warping in and out of different shapes. She can’t move, can’t block out the images, can’t escape the thoughts circling inside of her mind. Cruel words whispered in voices so familiar, but just out of reach.

Even the clouds seem to be her enemy, forming arrows launching across the sky. Could they be considered clouds? As far as she knows, clouds don’t move like that.

Not real. Not real. Not real. She chants in her mind. Regardless, right now this is her reality. There’s a vague awareness behind her, that this will end at some point. All things considered, this one is rather tame compared to the others.

Thrown into her room, she cowers in the corner, wrapping her arms around her legs and tucking them in tight. Maybe if she makes herself small, they won’t notice. He won’t notice. They’ll finally leave her alone.

Heavy footsteps pound across the room as she squeezes her eyes shut, if she can’t see it - it’s not real. It won’t happen. Cruel hands tighten around her arms, another slapping against her mouth to muffle her screams -

“Wake up,” a voice says. Wake up from where? The males hands brand into her, his body looming over her -

“Wake up,” the same voice repeats.

An invisible hand tightens around her shoulder, shaking it back and forth. She glances down, but the hand isn’t there. Only the one tightening around her upper arm, the grip bruising.

“Wake up, y/n.”

Her screams are still muffled, her back slammed against the wood.

Gentle fingers run across her forehead, “please,”

Nausea whirls as she’s flung back into her body, an arm steadies her as she launches forward, clutching a hand over her mouth.

A bowl is placed in front of her, and she empties the contents of her stomach into it. Minutes pass, and she’s still heaving, her body pale and shaking.

“Get it all out,” the same voice says. One she can recognize now. A voice she loathes, mostly for the comfort it’s bringing her now, even the real hand that's rubbing her back.

As soon as she’s done, the bowl and its contents disappear, and she shoved the hand away, shuffling as quickly as she could to the other side of the bed, ignoring the pain shooting up her arms and legs, and tumbled out, barely catching herself on the other side of the wall.

“Gods-damned it,” someone cursed, and she felt their presence moving in the room, at her side before she could make it to the bathroom on her own.

“Go away,” she mumbled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“And let you fall on your ass?” Cassian muttered. That’s who the voice was.

“Yes,” she manages to say, even though each breath hurts. She groans again as his arm wraps under her knees, the other behind her back. In her mind, she can pretend she’s protesting and fighting him on it, but in reality she doesn’t have the energy to.

He deposits her in front of the sink, and hovers a few steps away like an unwelcome shadow.

“Fuck off.”

“A little gratitude wouldn’t hurt.”

“Why should I be grateful to you? You don’t have to be here,” her hands grip the edge of the sink as she glares at him through the mirror, doing her best not to focus looking at herself.

“Yes, I do,” he leaned against the doorframe nonchalantly, but she knew he’s observing every movement of hers, looking for any sign of weakness.

Letting out a large sigh, she cups her hands under the water to rinse her mouth out. A small toothbrush and toothpaste appear next to her, and she thanks the house for it. At least he doesn’t call out how her hands shake with each movement, taking a few tries to actually get the toothpaste on the brush.

A few minutes later, and she feels marginally better, some of her strength returning.

Y/n slapped his hand away as she made her way out of the bathroom, but couldn’t stop him from hovering behind her. His shadow covers hers, engulfing her completely as she makes her way back to the bed. The bed. Her damned prison now.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good,” he commented after she settled back in.

“And you know what’s good for me now?

“Quit putting words in my mouth,” his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, “I swear if you weren’t injured i’d -”

“You’d what?” Hazel eyes glared at her for the interruption. “Go on.”

“No.”

“Exactly,” she forces a grin, “you’d do nothing.”

His head tilts back, as if he’s praying to the mother for patience. Maybe if she annoyed him enough he’ll leave her alone.

She was finally in a state of somewhat lucidity, and all he’s getting is her attitude. At least her real feelings hadn’t changed much. Yesterday was a whirlwind.

“I think I love you both,” she sighed as Azriel ran a cloth over her forehead. He froze, his entire body going still. It was one of the times they both were in the room.

Azriel, to his credit, didn’t stop his motions.

“Sometimes,” she continued, “even if you’ve been assholes.”

She went on to reference something he knew hadn’t happened, and Cassian tried to think of ways he could forget those words. I love you.

It didn’t work, her soft and gentle voice had replayed in his mind the rest of the night. Void of the venom she usually spoke to them with.

“I thought we were mates at one point, but mates can’t hurt each other.” Y/n had convinced herself this was a hallucination, and didn’t feel any remorse for saying what’s been on her mind. Dream Cassian and Azriel had frozen and she let out a soft laugh. “It’s alright. This isn’t real. I’d never tell you otherwise.”

They exchanged a look, and she was impressed with how well her subconscious could mirror their real motions.

“At first, I wanted everything to blow over or to try and fix it. But now, it’s easier to be angry at both of you,” she turned on her side, propping herself up on one arm, face scrunching. Pain. She pushed past it. “I don’t know if I'll ever not be angry, but I heard that hate sex is enjoyable. Not that you’d ever touch me again.”

Cassian choked, and Azriel had gone still, shadows whirling around his shoulders.

“That’s not true,” Az’s quiet and cool voice said.

“That’s how I know this isn’t real” she let her eyes close again, “and thank the mother for that. I’d be mortified.”

“Anything,” she begged with tears streaming down her face. “Please.”

Anything to take some of the pain away. Azriel let himself hold her, let himself wrap an arm around her shoulders, lean her shaking body into him.

“I can’t,” he whispered.

“Why?” Her tear filled face gazed up at him, eyes full of betrayal, “why do you keep hurting me?”

“I’m sorry,” his thumb brushed away some of the tears, a gesture too intimate, but he couldn’t stop himself.

She turned her head away, “if you really were sorry, you’d help me.”

Her breaths evened out, sleep taking over her body again. Azriel wished it would mean she wasn’t in pain anymore, but the nightmares seemed to get worse as the week went on. Sometimes, she’d be frozen in place, body stiff and eyes darting rapidly behind her lids. Others, she’d thrash in the sheets so violently his shadows would intervene of their own accord, holding her in place enough for him to try and wake her.

“I’m so tired,” she told Mor. “I want it to be over.”

“It’ll pass with time.”

“I want everything to be over.”

Mor’s heart clenched. “Just give it time,” she pleaded, even knowing her sister wasn’t in her right mind. That this wasn’t how she really felt.

“It’s been years,” she whispered.

“It’s been a week,” Mor brushed away the strands of hair clinging to her sweaty forehead. “It’ll get better.”

“Everyone says that.”

“It’s true, Madja said so.”

“If Madja said so,” her hand covered her yawn.

“Get some sleep.”

Her head shook rapidly, even as her eyes grew heavy, lids closing. “It’s worse in my sleep. I’m alone.”

“You can try using your magic soon.”

Azriel watched as her eyes lit up, a small spark coming back - as if Madja’s words had somehow breathed life into her. For some reason, he’d insisted on being present as much as possible when the healer visited. If he couldn’t be there physically, his shadows would.

“Now?” The words were barely above a whisper.

“We should wait for your cousin.” Her head dropped, the small spark extinguished. “In case anything happens,” Madja added, even though she didn’t need to. Y/n would understand why. If anything got out of control, Rhys would be the best option to contain her magic.

“Step out with me for a minute,” Madja murmured to him as she crossed the doorway. A few shadows lingered behind to keep an eye on her as he followed the healer out.

The healer studied him with a startling intensity. A few decades ago, he may have been tempted to squirm under her gaze, but now it didn’t affect him. He’s used to being looked at like that - to being scrutinized with everything he does. Still, her gaze lacked the usual distrust present in others. Trust. That’s what he’d built with the healer the last two weeks - regarding his mate, at least. His mind had just become used to calling her that. There wasn’t any other word to describe it, really, even if she chose to ignore the bond once it snapped. That’s another thought he’d become used to - the very real possibility that might happen. He didn’t know if it would be him or her who would. But, he couldn’t stand the thought of her accepting it with Cassian, and not him. They hadn’t discussed that possibility either. Maybe neither of them wanted to speak the chance into existence.

“It may snap as soon as she has full access, it may not.”

She’s only repeating things he already knows.

“I’m aware,” he told her.

Her eyes narrowed at him.

“It may … undo some of the progress made. Her mental state is fragile.” He didn’t bother telling her he’s aware of that either, he’d witnessed it himself - either directly or indirectly, he always had eyes on her. Knew every word she’d spoken over the last two weeks.

Madja was hesitating to say something, so he prompted, “what else should I be aware of?”

“That’s all for now.” She was hiding something from him. In most cases, he’d figure it out in time. Azriel normally prided himself on his patience, but he’s found when it comes to y/n’s … health, he has little of it.

“What is it?” He fought to keep his voice cool and steady.

“I’m still looking into long term effects, although I don’t anticipate many.” Many. Meaning there still will be some. “Keep it between us,” she warned him.

His brows flicked up slightly at that, but he assured her he would, before slipping back through the door.

“It’s you again,” she huffed as he entered.

That’s how he knew she was lucid. The attitude and disdain.

“Thought you’d be happy, getting your magic back.”

“If it actually happens.”

Something pricked the back of his neck. “What does that mean?”

“You think I haven’t been trying?”

Azriel pushed down his anger. Most of it. “I don’t need to tell you how stupid that is, do I?”

“You lose your magic for a few weeks, tell me what you think.”

He’d experienced it temporarily, through ash arrows, but never to this extent. Still, sharp and perhaps distasteful words left him, “I think you’re being reckless.”

She blinked a few times, a type of haze coming over her eyes. “What if I never get it back?” Just above a whisper, like earlier, but this time filled with dread.

“Then you adapt,” Azriel said, much gentler. There was a very slim possibility of that happening, but he wouldn’t deny it completely to her. That’s what he’d always brought her, honesty, and he wouldn’t change it now.

“It’s like … missing a limb.”

There weren’t any words of comfort he could provide, instead he crossed the room and tugged her to his side. At first, she froze against him, but he ran his fingers through her hair, and slowly she melted, letting herself relax against him. Something he didn’t feel he deserved.

She didn’t lose her magic, and thank the gods because that would’ve snapped the last strand of her sanity. Sanity she felt like she was barely hanging on to at this point.

Although reality was distorted, some things were clear to her. Cassian and Azriel had been there the most, but she didn’t know whether or not that was by their choice. She didn’t want to know.

A month later, one particular nightmare hadn’t gone away.

She was in a town square. Not Velaris, but Autumn. Where her ex-friend lived.

“I told you I wouldn’t let anything come between us,” a haunting voice whispered, and their wings … her scream was guttural as two pairs of wings dropped, echoing on the stone.

Her hand covered her mouth, trying to muffle the remnants of the scream, before remembering the shield she’d put up for this reason.

She had to know they were alright, that they were alive. Logically, she knew it was just a nightmare, but couldn’t stay in this room any longer. She fled from the room like it was on fire, bare feet stumbling against the carpet, arms shoving the door open in front of her.

Two familiar scents and heartbeats in Azriel’s room. Relief flooded through her. It would be too much to barge into there, but at least she knew they were alive now. She retreated down the hall, instead bracing her arms on a window sill, taking in the full moon casting light over Velaris.

Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she heard the door open, two pairs of almost silent footsteps approaching behind her. In the reflection, their eyes met. Both of them looked vaguely concerned.

“Just … needed to check you’re alright,” she offered an explanation. Not that she needed to, but it’s better than letting their imaginations run wild.

“Nightmare?” Cassian’s voice was soft and gentle. She hated his tone, hated that it comforted her. Words didn’t want to work, so she nodded.

Azriel didn’t speak, but held a hand out to her. Slowly, she turned back around, pinching her arm to make sure this was real. His eyes tracked her movement, flashing slightly in recognition but his body remained still and she placed her hand in his, his warm and calloused hand closing over hers.

Heart pounding and threatening to burst out of her chest, her rapid breaths warmed the air before her as they crossed the threshold. He pulled her towards his bed, pulling the covers back and gently pushing between her shoulder blades. Cassian climbed in on the other side. Said male wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her into his chest. Azriel’s body fell into place behind hers, as if this was the most natural position for the three of them. She felt a tug, a thread like current weaving between the three of them, and shoved deep, deep down. Like fate was trying to weave the three of them together, to mend and straighten something warped and misaligned by time and stupid decisions. An ache spreading through her chest, mind working overtime to try and figure out what the hell that meant.

“Relax, princess,” Cassian cut off her spiral, his large hand cupping the back of her head, guiding her to rest right where she could hear his heartbeat. Normally, the nickname was teasing - designed to get a reaction out of her, but now it felt gentle, a term of endearment.

A sense of calm overtook her, and her heart quit trying to explode, slowing to match his. Azriel ran soothing circles with his thumb, right above her hip bone. Her eyes shuttered closed and she fell asleep between the two warm bodies.

It had been a split second decision, and as Azriel watched them sleep, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Sleep was almost foreign to him, but watching them sleep peacefully, feeling her soft body pressed against his, was almost enough. Maybe he should feel jealous of how she melted into Cassian with a few words, her taut and tense body unwinding, but content filled that space instead.

They heard her stumbling down the hall. She hadn’t left the room for nightmares since … before. The footsteps paused for a moment before his door, before retreating. That’s when he knew it had been about them, whatever had happened in her sleep. They didn’t need to communicate with each other before leaving the room to track her down.

His only intention was to check on her, just to see she’s alright. Still, even as her hand reached out for him he meant to bring her back to her room, to close the door and leave, but as soon as her skin met his, he headed in the opposite direction.

Cassian hadn’t questioned him, hadn’t acted as if anything was out of the ordinary. The threads winding them together practically took on a life of its own as it sang with joy at having her this close, at having her safe between them. Where she belongs. He cleared the thought from his mind. Only if she wants to be there. Did she feel it too?

He wasn’t naive enough to think the nightmares would disappear because of their presence, and sure enough her body stiffened. Cass noticed and his sleepy eyes blinked open, meeting him with concern, almost asking; do we wake her?

I don’t know, he replied honestly.

Small whimpers left her. Not the sweet kind of her reacting to their touch, whimpers of pain. Cassian’s hand reached out, running his thumb back and forth over her cheek. Like he was some kind of instant drug, her body relaxed again.

Do we wake her? He looked at him again. Azriel shook his head, and laid down on the pillow, this time tugging an arm around her waist and bringing her closer to him.

Cassian’s mouth curved at the corner in amusement, but he ignored him and placed a kiss to her hair, taking pleasure in how she snuggled further into the pillows, one hand covering his own - holding it there.

She woke to warm sheets that weren’t her own, her back pressed against a warm body, another caging her front in. Opening her eyes might end this dream, might ruin whatever moment this is. Her nails dug into her palm, a small hint of pain running through. Real, this was real. She wiggled, trying to dislodge the arm slung tightly over her stomach.

“Stop,” Azriel’s said, his voice hoarse and sleepy. If that’s how he sounds in the morning, maybe she should try to sneak in here more often. But, she didn’t listen, and shifted her hips again. Something hard brushed against her backside. Fuck. The arm tightened around her, one leg crossing to pin hers in place.

“I said, stop.”

This time, she listened. Warm breath brushed against her neck, a sigh of relief.

Warm rays of sun peeked through the curtains, casting a glow on the bed. They rarely slept past sunrise. Actually, they never did, as far as she knew.

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” she murmured quietly, not wanting to wake Cassian.

“I didn’t want to leave.”

“Don’t you have work to do?” Her pulse fluttered.

“Are you trying to kick me out of my own room?”

She shook her head rapidly, and he let out a low chuckle, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “How long have you been awake?”

“Long enough to hear you snore.”

“I do not.”

“You do,” Cassian’s sleepy voice said this time.

“Rude.”

Azriel’s leg released hers, his arm loosening enough to give her some room to make space between them. Reluctantly, she did so. Her eyes trailed to the clock. One hour until she needed to be at the library.

Limbs heavy, she sat up, pushing the sheets down to climb out of the bed. Cassian’s hand reached towards hers, before stopping, falling back to his side.

“Thank you,” she said, voice just above a whisper, and climbed off, pausing at the doorway, messy hair flipping over her shoulder. They looked at her, some expression she couldn’t read, and left. Neither followed her or said a word, she wished they would. Maybe she’s relying too much on them to make any kind of move. Still, it’s normal for friends to cuddle … right?

Ever since she’d fallen … ill, they’d changed. They acted almost like they had before, with an extra tension, and it was giving her whiplash. Nothing had been cleared, despite the ‘olive branch’ they’d offered, there wasn’t any discussion of the past. Instead, it seemed like they were avoiding the topic at all costs, despite her hinting towards it. Their temporary peace couldn’t last forever, nothing good did.

Since that night she ran into the hall, she hadn’t sought them out again. Mainly from fear they would reject her. Turn their backs on her. She wondered if they wished she would. Maybe she could test that theory, if she finally grew the courage to do so.

As always, they found a way to piss her off. Acting like they had a right to her, going as far as to scowl at any males that tried to approach her on their nights out. Any time she went out with her sister, they found reasons to be there, and she got into with Cassian one morning.

“We’re not together, quit acting like it.”

Hurt flashed through his eyes, gone as quick as it came. “Fine,” he’d replied, and left like a fire was lit under his ass.

She found herself regretting the words, but she felt an inexplicable need to build a wall between them. That she was getting too close to them. Making it too easy for them to rip her heart out again. She tugged down the top of her shirt, fingers grazing over the tattoo on her collarbone. They hadn’t released her from the bargain, although they easily could’ve. Was it from care? Or for something to hold over her head?

She watched in slow motion as a female pressed up on her toes, and planted a kiss right on Cassian’s mouth, her hands balancing on his shoulders.

“Push her away,” she pleaded to the universe. Instead, his eyes stayed open, finding hers as he wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her closer to him. She’d brought it upon herself, she supposed. “We’re not together, quit acting like it.”

If he wanted to play that game, she could too, and a fire lit under her.

His eyes flashed; your move, he seemed to say.

Watch me. She answered.

“Can you help me out with something?” She whispered to a female friend of hers.

Her eyes lit up, “I’m all ears.”

As soon as y/n had turned away, he gently turned down the female who’d kissed him, and felt a bit guilty as she scoffed and stormed away. Not guilty enough to do anything about it. His entire body had recoiled against it, screaming to him that it’s wrong.

But, she’s the one who clearly stated they’re not together.

He grabbed his drink, tilting his head back to let the liquid burn down his throat.

“It’s good to see her getting out there,” Rhys commented wryly. Cassian snapped his head to him.

“What?”

“Y/n,” he said too innocently.

He turned slowly and watched as she danced with a female friend of hers, hips slowly grinding against each other, arms twining around each other's necks. Then, their lips met. He didn’t think she’d actually take his subtle challenge.

Rhys clapped a hand on his shoulder. Cassian couldn’t force himself to move, if she wanted her fun - she could have it. He could play this game, even as it tore into him.

Apparently, Azriel couldn’t. The shadowsinger intercepted the two of them, tugging her away from the other female's embrace. Right, he hadn’t found the time to inform him of their … discussion, this morning.

A smirk crossed her friend's face. She’d done this on purpose, he already suspected, but now he had his confirmation.

Small fists beat against Azriel’s back as he stormed out, y/n thrown over his shoulder, her friend laughing in the background.

“Why are you waiting?”

He scowled at Rhys’s voice in his mind, but slid a gold mark on the counter, more than covering his tab, before following them out the door. Cassian had a strong feeling Rhys knew of the bond, even if he kept his mouth shut.

Azriel had paused in front of the building, waiting for him. As he approached, y/n was still spewing curses at him, her face slowly turning red. One of Azriel’s arms was wrapped securely around her thighs, holding her in place. There’s no way for her to escape his hold, but that doesn’t mean she wasn’t trying. There’s a small shield around his wings, keeping her from using that to her advantage.

Azriel shot him a look, and he picked up his pace.

“Quit it,” he muttered to the female, his hand lightly slapped her ass. The surprise was enough to still her for a moment, letting Azriel snatch his arm and winnow the three of them to the townhouse.

Azriel finally let her down, and she glanced around them, noticing he’d taken them directly to his room.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he countered too mildly.

Oh, he was pissed. She shot a look at Cassian, she’d expected he would relay their conversation, but maybe she shouldn’t have counted on him for that. Azriel followed her gaze.

“And you, apparently,” the next statement was directed at Cassian. The other male looked completely unapologetic, crossing his arms and shrugging his shoulders.

“She made it crystal clear we’re not together.”

“Really?” Azriel tilted his head, fixing that searing gaze back on her as he closed the gap between them.

Against her will, her heart raced as he gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“We’ve never been together,” she managed to say. “You don’t have a claim to me.”

His mouth indented at the corner, but it wasn’t a smirk of amusement - more like barely concealed irritation and anger. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“Excuse me?” She tried to wrangle her chin from his grasp, but he only tightened his grip. Instead, she looked to Cassian. A slight shake of his head, and she redirected her attention to Az.

“I won’t repeat myself.”

“Then explain.”

“If you can’t figure it out yourself, I can’t help you.” His hand dropped, and she missed the touch on her skin.

“How do you expect me to understand if you don’t tell me?” Y/n exploded, fists clenching at her side. He knew he shouldn’t have dragged her out of there, but he couldn’t stand to watch her there, in another's arms. Holding her how he should be.

Still, Azriel had waited so patiently for her to figure it out herself, he could wait a little longer. Apparently Cassian couldn’t.

“You’re our mate.”

The temperature in the room plummeted. Not literally, but shivers ran down her spine, goosebumps covering her arms. Her eyes darted rapidly between the two of them, forming some kind of conclusion.

He counted each second. Forty-seven, before she spoke. Less than a minute.

“Do you expect me to forget everything? To fall to my knees for you now?” She spit

He pressed his lips into a tight line, and prayed Cassian wouldn’t rise to the bait. He needs to stop praying and hoping where that male is concerned.

“I’d never turn down a chance to see you on your knees, princess.”

Azriel groaned.

“You’ll never see it.”

“Want to bet-” he caught the look Azriel pinned him with, and shut his mouth mid sentence. Y/n looked too pleased at the turn of events, but he couldn’t take that away from her now - not without making a bigger mess to clean up. She stormed from the room, letting the door slam shut behind her.

Fuck patience, fuck letting fate run it’s course, the truth is in the air now. He’s sick of waiting.

Azriel flung the door open, taking off after her, Cassian on his heels.

She tried to slam the door to her room on them, and he wedged his foot in between, forcing it wide open.

“Leave me alone,” she snarled.

“So you can block us out?” Cassian countered, shouldering past him to cross the threshold.

“You deserve it,” his heart thumped in his chest as she switched her gaze to him. “You both do.”

“What the hell did we do?” Cassian took another step towards her, forcing her to back up.

“I thought you were smarter than that,” she flung his words back in his face. She saw the hurt cross his face, looking vaguely like a kicked puppy. A small sliver of guilt filled her, but a vindictive anger overtook that - good, she wanted him to feel how they made her feel. Even if it was cruel, karma deserved to be thrown back in their faces. The bond may have snapped in her at that moment, but it took less than a minute for her to come to a conclusion. Like hell she’d lay down and make it easy for them, or for herself. It means nothing if she doesn’t accept it. That was a lie, she knew it, but if she repeated it enough to herself maybe she’d believe it.

They shattered her before, and she had to build herself back together. The temporary peace they’d hovered in was never going to last.

taglist: @infinitely-kate @foreverrandomwritings @anuttellaa @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @justasillylittlegoofyguy @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @bookishdeer @sidthedollface2 @mis-lil-red @acourtofbatboydreams @blessthepizzaman @hallucynatiing @summerloversposts @rowaelinsempire

#cazriel x reader #cazriel x y/n #acotar x reader #azriel x reader x cassian #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #azriel x y/n #cassian x y/n #cassian x azriel x reader #cassian x reader x azriel

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lookingfts · 2 months ago

Note

If you're in the mood for some fluffy fluff...? Married or dating, or in the enemies to lover phase, tripped ankle or concussion, forced proximity and having to provide TLC?

Also fulfilling another prompt I got a while ago about how Kate would handle Anthony getting into an accident! Enjoy.

Kate’s heart was pounding in her chest as she pulled up to the entrance. Anthony was already standing there with a nurse by his side, his arm in a splint, looking exhausted and a little disheveled. She threw her car into park and stepped out.

“He couldn’t get out of here fast enough,” the nurse said with a smirk. “Here are the care instructions. You can call us if you have any questions.”

Kate took the thick packet, opening the side door and letting the nurse help him into the passenger seat. It was slow going, Anthony wincing at every small movement, but finally he slumped against the seat.

The nurse helped him into his seatbelt, making an apologetic noise as he hissed. “We’ll see you in a few days, Anthony. Take care of yourself.”

He was entirely silent as Kate got back into the car and pulled out onto the road, heading in the direction of his flat. It was almost midnight, no traffic in sight, but Kate drove cautiously anyway, not wanting to risk slamming on the brakes and injuring him further.

“You didn’t call your mum? Or Ben?”

Anthony let out a rough sigh, rubbing his good hand over his face. “I’ll call them tomorrow, I’m just…I’m too tired for it right now. Besides, I’ll need some help and you’ve seen me naked much more recently than they have.”

She might have chuckled at that, if she wasn’t so fucking tense. Kate had been coiled tight since the second he called, and despite her attempts at deep breathing, nothing was quite succeeding in helping her unwind.

It wasn’t an entirely satisfying reason for why he had called her. She was Anthony’s friend on a good day, maybe, but she was more of a situationship than anything. Unbelievable late-night hookups that none of their friends or family knew about – or at least, she didn’t think they knew. Not that there was much to know. Anthony gave her explosive, leg-shaking orgasms and she left in the morning and they didn’t discuss it much beyond that. There was nothing to talk about.

At any rate, she didn’t think they were at picking each other up from the hospital status.

She entered the code to his front door and Anthony seemed to relax a bit at the familiar surroundings of his flat. Kate already had a few clothes and toiletries lying around; it wouldn’t be a hardship to stay the night. In the morning, he would tell his family, and they could suffocate him with their particular brand of care.

Anthony stilled at the bottom of the stairs. His bedroom was on the upper level, along with two guest rooms, so it was a necessary evil. “Sorry,” she said. “I know it’s going to be uncomfortable. I’ve got you.”

Huffing out a breath through his nose, he grabbed the banister and carefully made his way up the stairs. Her heart twisted a little every time he inhaled sharply and shut his eyes, waiting for the wave of pain to pass. Finally, they were at the landing and his shoulders slumped in relief.

Once they were in his room – truly a ridiculous suite, in her opinion, though the bed was spectacular – Kate slowly helped him undress and change into a pair of sweatpants. “How did you break your arm?” she asked finally. He hadn’t said a word about it.

“I tripped down the stairs,” he admitted, gritting his teeth as he stepped into one of the legs, then the other. “I just…wasn’t paying attention, honestly. I looked at my phone and I missed a step and I just…yeah.”

The knot in her chest grew tighter, compressed by something that felt a little like panic. She couldn’t account for why she had been so sour since he called, but maybe it was starting to take shape now. Flashes filled her mind, too quick to process – Anthony with a head injury, Anthony under a sheet. They both knew how one moment could mean life and death. How one moment could break everyone who had loved that person.

Once he was situated, Kate opened the drawer and took out one of her pajama sets. Her hands were trembling, and she felt dizzy. She just couldn’t turn off the awful noise in her head – what if what if what if.

“You should rest,” she said, not missing the furrow of his brows at her terse tone. “I can sleep in the guest room, just call me if you need anything.”

Anthony didn’t respond for a moment, and she turned to leave. “Kate,” he said to her back, sounding so weary. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to pick me up. I clearly overstepped.”

An embarrassing heat pricked at her eyes. She had kept it together, focused on the singular goal of making sure that he was alright. And now that he was…her head was a mess. A confusing jumble of anger and fear and gratitude that he was still there, with her, and she couldn’t articulate any of it. Because she was just some girl he fucked sometimes, so why should she care this much?

“You were so reckless,” she spit. That was easier. To fight and claw and rage like they had always done, months before she was ever in his bed. “You can’t do that shit, Anthony. Your family – did you even think about your family? Your mum? Ben? Hyacinth? Did you even think, for one second, what it would do to them if something serious happened to you?”

There was an excruciating silence. She could hear the tears in her voice, the desperation. Could hear the confession between the lines that she had never meant to give. If Anthony hadn’t suspected anything before, he would be a fool not to know now.

His hand landed gently on her waist, and Anthony tugged her against him, careful to avoid his injured side. He was still probably bruised elsewhere, so Kate went gingerly, burying her face in his neck. “I’m sorry,” Anthony murmured. But it was his heartbeat, calm and steady under her hand, that helped her breathe. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ll be more careful.”

“We’re not talking about me,” she said unconvincingly. As if her rebellious tears weren’t landing on his bare shoulder, as if she wasn’t making herself small in his arms and letting him surround her.

“Okay,” he acquiesced. They stood like that for a long time, Anthony’s fingers sliding up her back to stroke her curls. Repetitive motions until the haunting melody in her mind stopped.

He was alive. The moment had come and gone, and he was still there.

Kate lifted her head, wiping her face with the heel of her palm. His hand landed on the side of her neck, half cupping her jaw, his face earnest and concerned.

Anthony swallowed. “If anything happened to you…” he said, raw and aching, like she was pulling some admission from the deepest parts of him. “It would destroy me.”

She blinked at him, the words slowly settling over her. Maybe there was something to talk about, after all.

But not tonight. Anthony was swaying on his feet, and Kate found herself exhausted by the day, too. “Stay with me,” he urged, stroking her cheek. “Please.”

Kate nodded and ushered him to bed, helping him find a comfortable position on the mattress before curling up beside him. Letting his rhythmic breathing and the warmth of his hand around hers lull her to sleep.

Everything else could wait.

#drabble #bridgerton #kanthony #kate x anthony #anthony x kate #bridgerton fic #asks and answers

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rwrbmovie · 1 year ago

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BTS of #RWRBMovie: cakegate

From Collider:

ML: "It was hundreds of extras, it was cake, it was a vision, it was choreography through space, and it was a lot of dialogue. That was three days of me, just gritting my teeth. I can’t tell you that I had fun on those three days. I knew that I had to get it right, in so many different ways. But I had a great team, and I had Nick and Taylor, and we got through those days. When people see the movie, you don’t see all the real effort that went into that filming that scene."

From AV Club:

The entire wedding reception scene took three days to shoot on location at the Royal Naval College in London (which served as the setting for the receiving line) and Goldsmiths’ Hall in the city’s financial district (where the reception takes place). But López began preparing for it long before he got to the set. Together with production designer Miren Marañón, he tested the physics of bringing down the cake using models and filming smaller cakes in motion to see how they would fall. “We were really scientific about it,” he says. “Would it slide? Would it tumble? Is it sort of like a tree coming down or does it break apart? What we decided was that actually what happens is not necessarily Alex knocks over the cake, Alex breaks the table, which then sends it over. We realized that it was a question of a cascading series of events leading to the cake falling on them.” Taylor Zakhar Perez, who plays Alex, and Nicholas Galitzine, who plays Henry, were both game for anything when it came to the physicality of the scene. To help block the sequence for maximum comedic effect, López brought on theater director Cal McCrystal, who had previously worked as a physical comedy consultant on the Paddington films. The actors rehearsed with McCrystal to get each beat of the scene right before Alex is knocked into the table, which was rigged with hydraulics to make it collapse on cue. The crew spent a day and a half filming the reception before it came time to tackle the cake scene. There were two cakes created for the scene, a fake one made of foam and latex that could not only hold up under the lights for long periods of time but safely be dropped on the actors without injuring them, and a real one made of sponge and buttercream frosting to dump on them once they hit the ground. “We shot the scene many times with the fake one coming down, just this big cake coming down on top of them,” López says. “We shot it from all different angles. Then we reached the point of no return and we had to drop actual cake on them.”

That’s where the fun part came in. The crew brought in several white industrial “buckets of buttercream” frosting and chunks of real cake to throw on top of the actors. “We set up three cameras, and my production designer and I carefully lined up the shot. And I counted to three and we tossed the cake into their faces.” The cast and crew had planned to film the scene multiple times, and there was time built into the shooting schedule for the actors to shower and change into clean costumes in between takes, a process that could potentially take up to an hour. But, according to López, in the end it wasn’t necessary. “That first take we hit the bullseye. And I went back to look at it with my director of photography and my producers, and I’m looking at it and I’m like, we have it. Let’s move on. Let’s not waste our time. One take of hitting their faces, and then we just got the rest of it.” López describes the mood on set that day as “very, very focused” but there was still a sense that they were creating something special. It turned out to be one of his favorite days on set. Even the background players, many of whom were themselves in the cake splash zone, erupted in applause once it was finished. “The boys were in a very good mood, which helped. But I think, for an actor, it’s like the ultimate fantasy, right? As a kid, you want to be in an enormous food fight. And then here they are getting paid to be covered in cake. So yeah, it was the most technical bit of filmmaking we had to do on this movie. That said, everybody, for as focused as they were, everybody was in a very good mood that day. And it must be said that we had a lot of fun.”

From EW:

In the film's opening sequence, Galitzine's Henry and Taylor Zakhar Perez's Alex, the First Son of the United States, create an international incident after a spat leads them to crash into and destroy a royal wedding cake. In the process, they both become utterly covered in cake and frosting. But Galitzine didn't find it so bad. "You would get quite peckish throughout the day," he tells EW in an interview conducted prior to the SAG-AFTRA strike. "The fact that you could just have a snack peeling off your body, you can have a little nibble there, was super convenient." Things got even messier when the crew tried to turn the sequence into a food fight. "A lot of the crew were very keen to get involved and throw cake at us in the second half when the cake's already hit us," says Galitzine. "But it was a really fun experience getting to work within that physical comedy space, very slapstick with icing on the suit, then the whiskey being used to dab the suit, and the cake coming down on top of us." Galitzine could, at least, clean up relatively quickly once they wrapped — the English estate where they were filming had a shower upstairs that the cast could access. "Afterwards, I went and stood in the shower for a good half an hour," he says, with a laugh. But he still couldn't escape the cake. "Even that evening and the next morning, I'd find something in my ear or behind my ears, and be like, 'What is that?'" he explains. "And it was bits of icing. I didn't eat those."

From CineMagna:

NG: The cake dropping scene was probably one of the most fun scenes to film. It was just such a couple days. First of all, I just love being with the rest of the cast. It’s just mostly been Taylor and me throughout the entire process, but when you get to really spend time with the other actors, it’s just so much fun, the group of us together. There was so much pomp within this room. We had about 200 extras dressed to the nines, and just the act of this cake falling on top of us is just a very bizarre day at work that most people don’t get to experience.

#this one’s long but a fun read!#rwrbedit #rwrb movie #red white and royal blue #rwrbsource #nicholas galitzine #taylor zakhar perez #cakegate #bts #rwrbbts #*#my stuff #ng #matthew lopez

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brawltogethernow · 1 year ago

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—

L fell over from his customary seated position, died in his nemesis's arms, then came to in his customary seated position.

He fell over.

"Richard?" said Wammy, the alias he'd been using four cases ago. "Are you alright?"

"Watari?" he said dumbly, into the floor. Wammy was dead. He hadn't wanted it to be true, but he had been sure when he saw the data kill switch had been flipped, pieces of information slotting together to form a whole even when he didn't want them to. His own hand had carved him into a device that did this process automatically. It was too late to deny facts.

"What?" said Wammy like he didn't recognize the Japanese alias.

L pushed himself up halfway off the ground. "Fuuuuuck this," he said, and fell over again.

⁣

"Why me?" he wondered aloud. "Does this happen to everyone killed by the murder notebooks? I can't investigate an infinite multiverse, Weatherby."

"Probably not," conceded Wammy. He was currently humoring L gamely. L had been able to provide multiple descriptions of future events that would confirm he wasn't cracking up, but none of them had happened yet. He had never been much of one for keeping track of the date regarding matters where someone could do it for him, which didn't help. Well. Wammy would come around.

L was humoring himself, too, for now. There was no point assuming his mind wasn't reliable. Using his brain to run diagnostics on itself could wait until it seemed necessary. If he was having an Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge moment it was certainly going on for a very long time.

He ground his molars against each other. The Kira murders had been supernatural, but clearly guided by a hand that either was mortal or thought the same way. So far, this seemed...random.

"I don't like this," he informed the room, and incidentally Wammy. His latest sugar cube tower collapsed and split into two factions, one falling into his tea and the other scattering across his desk. Tea sloshed out of its cup in futile pursuit of the desk faction.

He picked up the teacup by the mostly not sticky handle and sipped it, pursuing the grit at the bottom of its basin. He put it down and but his thumbnail. It was slightly sweet. He needed to wash his hands. He added, "Well. I like it better than being dead."

⁣

He sent the party interested in his current case an e-mail with enough key bullet points of the solution for them to clean up what was left of it themselves, which was more than he felt like doing for a rerun of a case. If he were stuck only rehashing already closed cases he might entertain the theory that this was Hell. But the world was wide, he had only lived a year or so beyond this in the first place, and the Kira case was still open.

He tried to console himself that Light Yagami possessed one of the most ruthlessly brilliant minds L had ever encountered. This did not make him feel any better about being beaten by a fucking child. L was an extremely petty man about things like that.

(He had been a worse minor. If he had been eighteen as well when faced with such an infuriating suspect, he would probably have been the one instigating physical altercations. He would have broken Light's perfect nose instead of playing around with him, and then maybe he wouldn't be undead.)

He gnawed his thumbnail, brain too itchy to be content just pressing it against his bottom lip where he could usually stop. He knew on one level of thought he was risking ending up with sore and bloody cuticles, but it was not the level primarily in charge of his teeth and hands when he was stressed. Was he stressed? Extremely, yes. But should he have been? His life wasn't even in danger, nor was Wammy's. Kira hadn't claimed his first kill yet, probably hadn't acquired his weapon, that awful, intriguing, unassuming notebook. And when he did, L could just...

L didn't even have to do anything. He could just ignore it, and stay ensconced in whatever HQ he chose. Name unrecorded, face unknown, existence not relevant to Light Yagami's twisted morals. He already knew all the key mechanics of Kira. The method, the means—he was sure he'd already known the why. He had all the answers he wanted. Light had given him his answers.

His true face... It was all the confession L had needed. An honor, even.

Ha!

L didn't need anyone's sanction to solve the Kira problem, either. He could steal the notebook. He could hire a hitman.

Dull pain and the taste of blood alerted him that he'd bitten through his thumb.

He popped it into his mouth to keep blood off his keyboard. No, he didn't want to kill Light Yagami. He probably should kill Light Yagami, but he didn't want to. He wanted to... To...

⁣

Of the many casualties of the Kira case, there was no one he cared to intervene for he hadn't led to danger with his own hand. (Should he have cared more about Beyond? Eh, he'd interfere if Wammy brought it up.) Even Naomi, who he hadn't spoken to in years, should have no reason to return to her home country if L didn't repeat old plays.

...He wondered if he was perhaps taking the wrong lessons about treating people as expendable from the situation.

He tapped his fingers. Naomi. He had liked her.

He spent an hour at the keys confirming where she was. The sun had set around him, at some point, leaving him in a black room with the monitor a white inferno at the center. Moved to Burbank, engaged, retired. She must be bored out of her mind in an empty room of her own making. No wonder she had died over this case too.

He hoped it was exciting first. Light had never mentioned her.

Focusing all of her faculties on her boytoy only for a killer to take him away... She must have gotten very unlucky to have not proved a bigger obstacle.

⁣

After it came clear that L was reporting his experiences accurately (or hallucinating his confidant's confirmations), Wammy sat silently for a subjectively long minute and forty-seven seconds.

"What is it like?" he asked at last. "Dying."

"I don't know, I was kind of distracted," L deflected, because this is true.

Wammy gave him a blank yet communicative look.

L bit down on his other, less raw thumb. Why hadn't Wammy come back with him, possessed of his own experience to draw on? Was there another Wammy, elsewhere, who has gone back alone?

Could it be he really didn't die? No. L was sure.

Kira had done that, but even spider-scrabbling blunted fingertips at the bottom recesses of the linty pockets of his heart, L couldn't find it in himself to feel too righteously indignant. L was the one who had wanted to win badly enough he'd anted up his allies in their game. He had been cocky. He had been too cavalier.

"Frustrating," he answered. "Like when you can't stay awake even though you're in the middle of a project."

The brain, whirling determinedly away even as it stopped receiving fresh blood, as the vision narrowed down to a thin line, a screen shutting off uncaring of whether it was the end of the program.

⁣

He researched relevant players he hadn't been aware of at this point. All were transpiring to be about where he'd have plced them.

The web of events was elaborate. But that could have been dream logic. He'd tried, but never gotten the hang of, lucid dreaming. He was not sure he would be truly convinced this was happening until he'd discovered a why.

He hovered his overful teacup not quite at his lips. Next, he could find a backdoor into the TCPD systems, but...maybe...

He wormed into Yagami Light's computer instead. After 24 hours of passive data collection this provided him with Souichirou's passwords and how Light concealed he was using them.

It was very amateur, which was the best way to hack an organization that thought it was going to be hacked by professionals. Casual exploitation of loose security.

It was child's play on top of this to get a day-old visual on Light. L looked at the security photo and felt a thrill up his spine. Ah, death really didn't change me for the better at all, he thought.

⁣

"What's next in the docket?" asked Wammy, tidying up the workstation they were slated to abandon. (L remained on his computer chair and let this happen around him.) He was content to follow L's lead, even knowing he had led them both to their deaths.

"I want to find out why I've come back in time, and how," said L. "...But I don't have any leads to speak of."

"Except young Yagami," concluded Wammy, who was not an unclever man.

"I don't want to return to the Kira case," L admitted.

"Completely understandable," said Wammy without judgment. He was not an overly moral man, either.

L fidgeted. Flopped somewhat. "The Kira case is the most interesting case on the planet right now," he said.

Wammy waited.

"But I already know how he kills," L sulked. "And dying kind of hurt."

Wammy's mouth pursed at this. But he only asked, "What are you planning, L?"

"I'm going to insert myself," announced L, rising and stepping out of his chair. "What do we have in liquid assets right now?"

"What will this be put toward?" inquired Wammy.

L rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling and thought about it, chewing his lip. "Shenanigans," he declared.

He realized he had forgotten a social step and stopped his creep for the exit. He swiveled his head around. "Though Weatherby, if you want to return to the school for a year or two, or perhaps go on vacation—"

"I'll go where you go," interrupted Wammy, chilly.

L pursed his lips, finding now he'd began it that this was not the perfunctory check-in he'd taken it for. He said, "I would prefer if you didn't die."

Wammy sighed. "A similar sentiment is why I will accompany you."

L turned back around. "I see," he said, nodding. "Emotional blackmail."

"This time I trust you to take the appropriate precautions," said Wammy.

"Ugh," said L. "You're no fun."

⁣

To enact his very ingenious and only partially driven by general doubt in reality and spite scheme, L got a job at a pastry chain in Tokyo.

After less than a single afternoon, the manager deemed L unfit to serve customers (this was correct), so he was shuffled onto glazing duty. He accepted this without complain as, due to the pop-up-cum-cart-style layout of the establishment, this still allowed him a clear view of anyone patronizing the establishment. Moreover, he did not especially want to serve customers.

He despised the thin plastic sanitation gloves, which felt like rather than protecting his hands they moved the barrier of contaminated flesh up to his wrists, oils creeping and substances splashing upwards, until he wanted to decontaminate his arms up to the elbows and down to the bone.

It's for the case, he told himself even though there was no case, not really. It was the same process of steeling himself to put discomfort aside for a greater cause.

The greater cause this time was just bullying Yagami Light.

This is a cinnamon roll of great justice, he told himself, then held it up to eye level and examined it, debating whether to eat half of it in front of his manager. For great justice.

⁣

His fingers twitched. He solved cold cases from his backlog and sent in tips about them thumb-typed on a PDA on his lunch breaks. He was so understimulated he contemplated playing some stocks, which he was trying to cut back on. He had more money than one person could ever need and than he had any inclination to redistribute responsibly, and also he acclimated to them the way some people did to pachinko.

⁣

The manager sat him down. "I have been informed I can't fire you," he said.

"Yes," said L, who had purchased the chain before applying for the job.

"But I want to," said his manager, like it was important L knew.

"That's fine," said L. He pulled an industrial tub of cold icing over, stuck one finger into it, and licked it.

The manager's mouth flexed murderously. L entertained himself briefly by imagining this scheme if Light was his manager.

⁣

When Light finally walked in, L had been shuffled back to cashier duty to get him to stop licking the donut icing, where he would remain until customer satisfaction dropped untenably low. With a pull that was gravity-inevitable, they locked eyes across the room, and a realization was clear to L at once:

He's bored again.

Without anyone challenging to oppose him, Kira was already getting bored. A smile spread like an ocean oil slick over L's face. Or perhaps like the mysterious and ever-widening sticky spot under the second stove that no one could seem to mop up.

Everything was falling in line with his loftiest expectations. Light would crawl on his knees right to L. He didn't realize it, but he was desperate.

And L would lead this insufferable man, in his supplication, right through the mystery floor goo.

L favored Light with his (he was told) very unsettling customer service smile. "Welcome to Cinnabon," he said.

—

AO3

#death note #fic #w #l lawliet #cinnabon au #how do you spell..........how do you spell the baseball video game one.#quillish wammy #quillsh wammy #EACH VARIANT WORSE THAN THE LAST

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ussgallifrey · 5 months ago

Text

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 27

✦ Summary: Your badge clearly said SHIELD consultant, so you weren’t entirely sure where Fury was getting this whole make you an Avenger idea from. But you had a feeling it might have something to do with the recent discovery of an artifact at the bottom of the Arctic Sea.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Canon divergence, dialogue taken directly from Avengers: Age of Ultron, the Eternals being really bad at lying, dealing with their trauma and grief like ADULTS, excessive drinking, insane levels of foreshadowing, language, modern-day Ancient Grecian festivals, Wanda's canonical love of sitcoms.

✦ Word Count: 17.6k

✦ Playlist: Here

✦ Cinematic Soundtrack: Here

✦ Author's Note: Oh. My. God. I can't believe we're here at the final chapter of the Age of Ultron arc, the very biggest chapter of the entire story. This was so much fun to write. There's going to be some translations, and a follow-up Author's Note at the end of the chapter to keep this part spoiler-free. Enjoy!

[Master List]

The echoing screams are what pull you away from the low-lit comfort of your bedroom. As the highest shriek trembles down into shuddering sobs in the gentle stillness of night.

Putting your book to the side, you push away from the bed. Almost the second you open your door, the one across the hall from you is creaking open as well. With his ruffled bedhead and a muffled yawn, Steve gives you a familiar nod as you wordlessly move down the stairs to your unofficially assigned duties.

Pietro’s light is already on, his door ajar. While you continue down to the main level, Steve glides his way across the hall to the second door on the right.

Flicking the switch on the wall, the kitchen’s overhead light temporarily blinds your senses.

“Hey,” you give a worn sigh as you make your way over to the stove. “We talked about this. I know you have good intentions here, but - ”

“It is a calming method, is it not?” Vision questions in a slightly stilted tone as he holds the tea kettle above a red-hot burner.

Maybe those shrieking cries hadn’t just been from the traumatized girl upstairs, but from a whistling pot as well.

“Yeah, but it’s only effective if the water isn’t fully evaporated out. Sort of ruins the tea mix.”

“Ah,” he sighs, setting the kettle down on the adjoining burner. “This is still… confusing.”

With a shrug, you gently push him to the side as you move to fill the kettle back up at the sink, “Hey, you’re leagues ahead of most one-month-olds, give yourself some credit.”

He tilts his head, “I am not a human infant, the correlation does not compute.”

Pushing your hair over your shoulder as you return to the stove, you smile up at the man, “It was a joke, Vision. Or at least, an attempt at one. I’m too tired for this, honestly.”

“I was under the impression that deities did not require sleep.”

Placing the kettle down with a little more force than necessary, you fix the creation with a look.

It had been an odd month and a half for all of you.

Your time in Sokovia was still a close memory, as was apparent in the near-nightly nightmares of the youngest twin. Sometimes, when you close your eyes, you find yourself transported back to the battle. You could still hear the terrified screams, smell the decay around you, and worse yet feel the unmovable hand at your throat.

The team had stayed long after the battle to assist in the clean-up process. Which, in all actuality, just meant giving the bodies a dignified place to rest until a temporary morgue could be set up in a structurally stable location.

You all had worked well into the night before Steve began to wane. Gritted teeth and brushes of I’m fine went on for far too long before the multiple broken ribs, punctured spleen, and several large gashes finally took their toll on him. Natasha, Clint, and Sam hadn’t been much better off either.

But even after they were forcibly removed to seek medical treatment, you and Thor remained. To walk amongst the human race was an honor. You weren’t going to leave the scene of battle when such carnage was left behind.

It wasn’t until morning, when a slow and steady sunrise peaked over the mountains, that you were finally finished in your duties; aided by a handful of SHIELD agents and local residents who had returned in the early morning hours to see what was left of their city.

There wasn’t much of Old Town that remained standing. And, by last estimates, some 17,000 people had been infected and killed by Ultron’s nano-virus. Another 3,000 were killed during the battle, followed by thousands of injured and seriously critical patients in neighboring hospitals.

You didn’t even like thinking of the week’s total now; between Sokovia, New York, Johannesburg, and London. Not to mention Seoul, where Ultron had attacked Cho’s lab while you all had been distracted by other threats.

“Have I said something to upset you?”

The kettle is whistling.

Blinking, you pull the pot off the heat and fill the awaiting mug.

“No, not at all. Just… lost in thought,” you say with a distant voice as you add the herbal mix.

Vision gives you a hesitant nod.

After letting the tea steep for a moment, you give the man a gentle wave before you head up the stairs. He knew better than to follow after you now.

This had been another adjustment for you, in the aftermath of the battle.

As the Tower had been destroyed, the team split off in search of temporary living situations. Tony went to Malibu, Sam back to his place in D.C., and Clint had an apartment in the city somewhere that he and Natasha were crashing out at. Thor had been offered lodging with Tony, at Pepper’s insistence.

Which of course left one particular supersoldier.

Steve had been living at the tower for well over a year now; never bothering to get a place for himself in Brooklyn, or anywhere else in the city for that matter. It hadn’t even been a question to offer him a room at your house in Vermont after he was cleared from the hospital.

This only left the true question that was the twins and, well, Vision (as Thor soon named him).

They were technically minors and Vision was technically a weapon, but also a sentient being. The legality of it quickly became complicated by international law and Sokovian law and U.S. immigration and temporary refugee laws. You left all that up to Tony to deal with. He had an army of lawyers in hand for things of this nature, thankfully.

You didn’t want to just leave them there to deal with this newfound freedom on their own. You all knew HYDRA would be on the lookout for them, and if that wasn’t bad enough, you personally knew that SHIELD would be looking to take them in if at all possible as well.

And while it had been different for the others, who were all adults who could reasonably consent to things that Nick would offer, you were all too aware of the fragile state the twins were in. It was one thing to willingly join up with SHIELD, it was another to be convinced to join under possibly false pretenses.

You liked Nick, you trusted him to have your six, but there were certain things you would rather keep clear of his grasp.

If the tower had still been intact, perhaps you would have all gone to live there in a strange form of cohabitation. But, instead, you found yourself housing two mutants, a sentient computer, and a supersoldier. There were stranger things out there, you were sure of it.

Pushing the door to Wanda’s room open a little further, you offer the teen a gentle smile.

You had told Tony that you were used to dealing with teenage twins. Thankfully, he didn’t pester you with questions about that and had merely made temporary guardianship signed over to you.

Pietro is sitting next to her on the bed while Steve remains near the foot of the mattress.

Passing the tea along, you rest your weight against the dresser. Sometimes, she would be able to go back to sleep after a few minutes or an hour of talking. But, it looks like tonight is going to be another one of those situations.

After several minutes of the siblings speaking in hushed Sokovian to one another, the girl gathers the black comforter up and around her like a cloak and makes her way down the stairs with her brother at her side.

Steve gives a tired sigh, rubbing his jaw as he moves to stand beside you after flicking off her bedside light.

From here, you can hear the gentle click and hum of the box T.V. humming to life downstairs. You had offered up your vast collection of movies and shows to her on one of those first restless nights. She had an affinity for sitcoms and romantic comedies, oddly enough.

Offering the blonde a slow smile, you ask, “What was it tonight?”

He folds his arms over his chest, rocking back on his heels as he pointedly doesn’t look at you.

“Her, back in the cell… with the Hulk,” comes the terse breath a moment later.

You can’t help but grimace.

During the clean-up efforts, right after the battle, Bruce had transformed back to himself. And while the Hulk might not have noticed or even cared that Wanda was there, Bruce - the man - had very differing opinions on her presence there.

Holding a good amount of anger over her meddling in Johannesburg, he had almost fully transformed back into his green opposite when you and Thor had both tackled him - dragging him far, far away from the terrified girl. You understood, of course. She had gotten into his mind, had twisted it in such a way that he couldn’t regain control over his other self.

To see her standing there beside all of you was like being sent back to Johannesburg all over again. And to know the damage it has caused to both the city, the people, and Bruce’s own psyche.

While she was apologetic for her actions, you all knew that she was only a child, following the orders of another abusive force in her life. Bruce logically knew that as well, but he couldn’t help that momentary burst of rage that crippled him like venom.

In that sense, you were grateful that the tower was no more. You weren’t sure how they would be able to exist under one roof.

Not that Bruce stuck around long enough after you landed to find out.

Steve reaches out, taking hold of your forearm with his warm hand.

“It’s going to get better.”

With a shrug, you reply, “It’s okay if it doesn’t too. Not everything can be fixed with hope and well-wishing.”

His eye color seems dim in this light, not the usual electric blue you associate with the afternoon sky. Everything about Steve seemed rather dimmed this past month and a half, though. Perhaps, even you were dimmed, a palette of dreary colors that didn’t quite resemble your past self.

It had been a hard victory; one that was soured by so much death and destruction that you weren’t even sure if you could call the battle a victory. It was just finished. That’s all. The finish to a terrible threat.

He gives you a crooked smile, “Still, nothing wrong with hoping for better days.”

“Yeah,” you nod, holding back a yawn of your own.

With Wanda’s regular nightmares shaking the whole house and her screams echoing across the foundations, it was hard for even you to feel energized. Even with your pendant having a permanent position around your neck.

“You going back to bed?” he asks, gently nodding at your second yawn.

“Honestly? I don’t think I could sleep even if I wanted to.”

With a warm chuckle, Steve shakes his head, “Yeah. Me too.”

Together, you make your way downstairs to the living area. The lights are blessedly low, while the program on the TV is a little hard to look at. Pietro is curled up next to his sister, already snoring at the end of the couch. Wanda gives you a thankful nod as she continues to sip from her tea, pulling the comforter closer around her shoulders.

You and Steve find a spot on the loveseat opposite the couch, just under the window. Vision is hovering in the corner of the room, glancing through a book, though his eyes keep looking up at the TV whenever the laugh track plays.

He had been an entirely different addition to your household. Tony had offered to keep him down in Malibu until there was an adjustment period, but Pepper had been more hesitant. It was only after he picked up Thor’s hammer in the rubble of the market square that anyone on the team even felt comfortable having him around. There was so much of Ultron that could have been left in there.

But Tony had sacrificed JARVIS to the net, wiping every last trace of the rogue bot out. He would chase him to the deepest corners of the web to ensure it. That included Vision’s programming.

And, well, since you had a brief moment of clarity on the rooftop together, you volunteered to house him as well.

Steve’s arm wraps around the back of the sofa, his fingers brushing up against your left shoulder as you lean into him. He didn’t really care for these shows, but he didn’t like staying upstairs while the rest of you convened down here either.

“Oh, look. When it started, I was just trying to be nice to her because she was my brother’s girlfriend. And then, oh, one thing led to another and before I knew it we were… shopping.”

“Oh! Oh my god.”

“Honey, wait, we only did it once! It didn’t mean anything to me.”

“Yeah, right. Sure.”

“Really, Rachel, I was thinking of you the whole time!”

Wanda snorts as Monica chases Rachel across their apartment. Steve lulls his head downward, glancing at you with his soft sleep-deprived eyes. You smile back at him, moving in closer to his side, resting your head upon his shoulder as you tuck in for the rest of the night.

The team had been actively avoiding the public eye in the aftermath of Ultron. It was for the best - that’s what Tony’s PR team told you anyway. That’s another reason your house had been the perfect location to place the twins and Vision. It wasn’t public knowledge, the location of your home, and it was a good distance away from any major city. Unlike Tony down in Malibu, who frequently had paps outside of his mansion - waiting for a picture.

That’s why they decide to keep Steve’s birthday a smaller affair - aside from Steve’s own insistence on not making a big deal out of it. Somewhere upstate where they’re less likely to be recognized; questioned, ridiculed.

Well, the plan was to celebrate the supersoldier’s birthday on his actual birthday, but in the realm of superheroes, plans have a way of falling by the wayside. The team is sent to Atlanta to deal with a threat - you stay behind, for obvious reasons.

You’re in the middle of preparing a lunch for the teens, the next day, when you get a text from Tony.

Change of plans. Meet us in Albany round 7 for Capsicle’s shindig? x.

It would give you time to come up with arrangements for the three others in your house. No one felt particularly comfortable with leaving them to their own devices just yet. Not with HYDRA still being an active threat in the world.

And, since they were in the public image now, more than just the likes of an old military organization might want to get their hands on two enhanced kids. And a sentient being like Vision.

You make a call to an old friend and manage to arrive at the restaurant just an hour after the team does.

They’re all in an array of outfits - since they only had what was available in their go-bags to change into. Natasha has on a black cocktail dress, while Tony’s in a faded Metallica shirt and jeans. Thor has not changed from his armor, though his cape is absent. Clint has a baggy purple hoodie and grey sweatpants on. Only Steve and Sam look to be wearing their typical style of clothing, in all honesty.

“Hey, there she is!” Barton calls out, making everyone turn their head to see you.

“Who’s watching the Wonder Twins?” Tony questions, peering down from behind his sunglasses. Seriously, only that man would wear sunglasses indoors.

You smile at the belated birthday boy as you take a seat opposite him at the table. Squished between Clint and the resident billionaire, you answer lightly, “A friend.”

“Ooh, like a godly friend, or - ”

“Tony,” Steve sighs with a gentle shake of his head. “Just for one night.”

Stark gives an exaggerated groan, “Oh, for our resident centenarian…”

“He’s only ninety-seven,” Natasha reminds him behind the rim of her drink.

“Thirty, actually. Thank you,” Steve clarifies with another unruly sigh.

Your eyes meet his from across the white-clothed table, a smirk toying at your lips. Leave it to Tony to find the fanciest steak restaurant around.

“What, are we not counting your years in the ice anymore? Cause if that’s the case, man. You really gotta up the game on modern speaking and tech,” Clint rolls his eyes as he lazily folds his napkin into a swan beside you.

“I believe the Captain looks quite healthy for his advanced age,” Thor goads from the end of the table. “A healthy ninety, for sure.”

Steve just buries his head in his hands, a smile tugging at his lips, “This is why I never go to team dinners.”

Your laugh makes him look up. The glimmer of life in his eyes makes your heart swell.

It would take time for all of you to recover from Ultron’s terror, but you would get there… in time.

“So,” Tony sighs, leaning back in his chair, his hand upon his stomach. “I have a schedule out for everyone’s birthdays. Where do I put you two?”

You had just finished a very expensive meal of prime-cut steak selections, fresh-catch baked fish, too many countless appetizers and sides to count, and a very decadent birthday cake with glowing sparklers - because ninety-seven candles on top of a cake are apparently considered a fire risk.

Glancing down the table at your fellow God, you just laugh, throwing your balled-up white napkin at Tony.

“We do not abide by such… mortal things.”

“Well, you gotta have a birthdate, right?” Sam speaks up, one arm on the table as his other hand points between the two of you. “Didn’t just pop into existence one day and forget about it, you know?”

“Well…” you lull your head to the side.

“I knew it!” Clint cheers, “Fucking, what did I say? From the head of Zeus comes the goddess ATHENA.”

Pushing at his shoulder, Barton goes cackling to the side, unable to help himself after a drink too many.

“While I appreciate the sentiment, I’m afraid it’s just not a done thing for us,” you apologize. “If you want, however. Pick a random Thursday, and call it Thor’s Day.”

“You’re kidding me.”

Thor chuckles, “No, it is quite literally my day amongst the practitioners of Norse beliefs in this realm.”

“And you,” Tony contemplates, words playing on his tongue. “Athena… Thena… Thur - no, Tue… no. Okay, help a guy out here.”

You laugh, catching sight of the content looking supersoldier from across the table. His eyes follow the conversation between you and the billionaire, a soft and equally amused smile on his face.

“Nothing like that for me, sorry, Tony. You’re just going to have to survive without throwing me a party.”

“Like hell, I will!” he sounds almost aghast, clutching a hand to his chest. “If you don’t give me one, I’m gonna go for April 1st or something, you know.”

Casually leaning back in your chair, you place your used utensils upon your empty plate. That cake had been delicious.

“Personally, I wouldn’t recommend it. Dionysus gets quite annoyed when people try to take his celebrations away from him.”

When you catch Steve’s curious look, you return his gaze to explain, “April 1st is the beginning of the Great Dionysia, a celebration created back in the 6th century, BC. He would take it as a great offense that anyone would be trying to celebrate me on that day.”

“Hang on!” Clint remarks, tapping at the table. “Athens. They literally named the place after you. There’s gotta be some kind of thing for you. A party, or a day, a week-long festival, right? I’m right, aren't I?”

“Fellas,” Natasha groans, lifting her glass toward you. “Leave the girl alone. Bad enough we have to suffer through Steve’s dronefest of a party. No offense.”

Steve holds up his hands, “None taken. Wasn’t my idea.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony chimes in. “Was there a thank you, Tony, in there that I didn’t catch? Perhaps a thank you for wining and dining us all on this beautiful evening, Tony?”

There’s a collective groan of Thank you Tony and Many thanks Stark, which seem to satisfy the man’s need for recognition for the night.

When you’re outside, long after the waitstaff usually closed up - but Tony had a very generous tip for the restaurant, so they didn’t mind as much - Clint, Natasha, and Sam say their goodbyes. Wishing Steve a good, belated, birthday before they head out.

Tony lingers around as Thor and Steve converse.

“No word yet on our Strucker double. Just some local guy who went missing about three months before everything went down. And as for the other thing - look. I’m doing my best, but the records from back then are shoddy at best…”

You just nod in return. It had been one of the few requests you had made to the billionaire after taking the teens in. It wasn’t necessarily pressing, but after so many years spent in HYDRA’s captivity, you knew there was a chance that information might help them.

“How are they though?” he asks, voice lowered, sunglasses hooked onto his shirt.

“Good as can be, considering,” you answer honestly. “Wanda has nightmares, Pietro does too, sometimes. But they seem to be adjusting well enough. No… accidental outbursts of, you know, magic. And Vision is… well… he’s Vision.”

At that, Tony lets out a bark of laughter.

“Hey, thanks again for that. Taking one for the team just... yeah. You know? But, good news, groundbreaking on the new location is in a week, so we might be looking at early September, mid-October for move-in?”

You blink, “That fast?”

He fixes you with a look.

“Sweetheart, with the right amount of money, you can afford the best contractors out there. I’m not pinching a dime on these plans.”

Stark had been planning the new Avengers location pretty much since the ride home from Sokovia. The blueprints were good to go by the end of the week. And that was between multiple press conferences, a hospital trip, several angry phone calls from Pepper, and trying to safely and legally get two child refugees into the country.

“Sounds like a plan,” you say lightly.

“Well,” he claps his hands, smiling brightly - drunkenly - as he snags his sunglasses to put back on his face. “Come on, Point Break. Let's leave Mr. and Mrs. Rogers to get back home.”

“Tony - ”

You roll your eyes, “Just because we live together, Tony - ”

“Yeah, but you two? So adorable. Like a little nuclear family. Mom, Dad, the two kids, and your cybernetic… pet. You know what - ”

“Okay,” Thor chuckles as Steve drags a hand down his face, a flush of red doting his cheeks. “I think even you’ve had too much to drink, Stark.”

After the God of Thunder manages to corral Tony into the back of his waiting car, Steve saunters over to you - one hand in his pocket and the other tossing his keys up and down.

“Where have I seen this before?” you laugh.

Steve grins, “Come on, let a guy offer you a ride.”

“Well,” you drawl as you both walk over toward his bike. “It is your birthday, after all, so I guess…”

It’s a two-hour ride back to Vermont.

Your hands remain around Steve’s waist as you travel across the lonely freeways and backcountry roads. The warmth of his leather jacket and the rich smell of his cologne keep you company for the ride. You have his shield on your back while his small go-bag is stored under the seat.

At this time of night, you can make out the distant constellations up above. You point them out as you drive, shouting their names for Steve to hear. At one point, he reaches a hand down to squeeze your right hand that’s held tight across his middle.

As he pulls onto the vacant road that leads up to the house, the engine puttering softly, he tilts his head back to say:

“You know, I don’t even think I asked who’s watching Wanda and Pietro?”

You chuckle, leaning your forehead against his upper back, “Just an old friend. He was free tonight, no big plans.”

There’s a nearly audible arch of his brow, “Old friend?”

You nod, letting him feel the gentle up and down of your head against his shoulder.

“From college,” you add.

You know he wants to ask more of you, but he waits until you’re back at the house. A handful of lights are on when you pull up - through the illusion. Downstairs is aglow in yellow tones, while a single bedroom on the second floor has a flashing melody of colorful lights. Wanda was definitely a fan of the mood lights Tony had purchased for her.

Steve parks the motorcycle near the porch. Holding out a hand to help you off the bike, you eagerly stretch your arms.

“Two hours on that might be too much,” you chuckle.

The supersoldier shakes his head, “It was like… an hour-forty, at most.”

“Oh, so you were speeding.”

Cracking a smile in your direction, Steve pulls the keys from the ignition and pockets them in his jacket. Handing over his shield, the supersoldier takes it in his right hand. Wrapping his left arm around your shoulders, the two of you walk up the creaking steps of the porch.

The house, in all honesty, is usually pretty quiet. Even with two teenagers living there. But Wanda and Pietro definitely weren’t your average teens. So, you didn’t question the silence that sometimes overtook your home. After nearly a decade of existing within HYDRA’s grasp, you knew their willingness and ability to make much noise was still limited.

However, you’re slightly surprised to hear a rapturous conversation taking place the minute you enter the central hallway.

Steve’s eyes are immediately locked on the kitchen. A certain change to his posture as he stands straight, shoulders back, chin up, gaze piercing.

Pushing a gentle defusing hand to his chest, you kick off your shoes and move through the archway to your right.

“Is that right?” Vision asks with a sense of excitement in his tone.

“No, it’s quite a fascinating topic if you have the time for it. You know, not many people know this, but - aye! There she is!”

Your smile blossoms into a bright grin as you cross the kitchen to greet the other man.

“Hello, Vision,” you pat the creation’s shoulder politely before you move to hug your friend, “Hi! Thank you again. How was it?”

Releasing you, his hand drifts to rest on your left shoulder.

“Good, really good. Well… quiet, actually. But they’re not too bad. Good kids at heart.”

“Yeah, they are,” Steve stands in the doorway, his arms crossed as he stares at your companion.

“Ah, Captain Rogers,” he says, letting go of you in favor of going over to shake Steve’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Steve glances at you for just a beat before he returns the handshake.

“Huh, good things I hope. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Uhm,” you cough, moving to stand beside the two men, “This is… Isaac, friend from college.”

“Isaac?” Ikaris mouths at you.

“Yeah, you mentioned that already,” Steve stares down at you.

Ikaris forces a smile, “Yeah we studied at… college, together.”

You actually want to hit him. Sersi was so much better at this than him. God, it was awful. But at least Steve has a hint of a smile on his face.

Leaning against the doorway, the supersoldier comments, “Didn’t notice a car in the drive.”

The Eternal looks to you, then, oddly enough, at Vision, before he answers, “Taxi.”

“Right,” Steve nods, biting his tongue. “Well, thank you anyway. It’s… sort of a sensitive situation here, you know.”

“Of course,” Ikaris nods in earnest. “Happy to help, obviously. And,” he looks down at you. “If you ever need anything, just… give me a call, yeah?”

“Will do,” you smile before pushing up on your toes to wrap him into a hug. “And thank you again. Hopefully, I’ll see you soon.”

He hums in return before he bids you all a goodnight.

You count his steps down the porch and into the yard before - yup.

Steve turns to look at you, “Power of flight?”

Offering him a sheepish smile, you shrug, “Amongst… other things?”

“God, sweetheart,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I think I’ve got the full picture of you and then you just go and surprise me again.”

You push at his shoulder, eyes locked on his as a smile teases at your lips, “You think you know a girl…”

“I'm sorry,” Vision interrupts, as he looks back at the two of you from his seated position. “Were we not supposed to acknowledge his enhanced state?”

Steve looks down at you, and you up at him before you both start laughing.

Even from out here on the porch steps, you can still smell the lingering scent of onion in the air. Latkes had become a bit of a staple meal around the house as of late. The twins only had vague memories of their life prior to HYDRA and that organization wasn’t exactly well-known for their catering options.

Wanda had newfound aversions to deal with, but Pietro was less particular in his meals. As long as it was filling, he would typically eat it. But the young witch had many opinions about the food you served, and how it was prepared. And you weren’t exactly known for your cooking skills, nor was Steve for that matter.

Potato pancakes were easy enough to make, and opening a can of vegetables or applesauce for a side seemed to do the trick.

It’s just the four of you again. Steve had been called away for a recon mission alongside Clint and Natasha two days ago. Even in a house full of people, his absence was felt by all.

Tony had honestly been right when he said that you had basically created a strange little nuclear family in your home.

“Hey,” you smile gently as you take a seat near Pietro on the steps. From here, you can watch the lightning bugs dancing in the tall grass.

The stars are just beginning to peak out from the violet sky as Wanda walks through the swaying flower fields with Pallas on her shoulder.

Your smile wanes as you catch him wiping a quick fist across his running nose, eyes trimmed with red rings.

The urge to ask are you okay is overwhelming, but you know better by now. It had taken some work with Steve to get him to refrain from asking that question too often as well. Ever since Pietro’s fist had gone through the wall beside the staircase.

His desperate no, I am not fucking fine still echoed in your mind.

He’s pointedly avoiding your gaze, just a step down from you, as he rests his arms on his knees, his head is balanced on the crook of his right elbow as he gazes out at the blinking bugs.

His voice cracks as he asks with a sniff, “When will the Captain return?”

Glancing down at Pietro, you turn your eyes to the evening landscape. The wind is warm on this late-July night. It sweeps across the fields and forest canopy, a loving caress against your bare arms and legs.

“I’m not sure.”

Wanda giggles as Pallas takes flight, swooping around her alongside the lightning bugs. She claps her hands together once, holding them to her lips as she watches the owl soar.

“You know,” you begin, leaning toward the boy. “Sometimes, you two remind me of my siblings. A twin pair actually.”

He hums in return, eyes still cast upon the land.

“Wanda reminds me of my sister. Keeping to herself, finding companionship in, well, everything but people,” you smirk as Pallas returns to her, landing upon her right shoulder before he toes his way over to her left.

“And you… an Apollo in the making. Bright, charming, quick-witted. He would have liked you.”

Pietro’s head lifts, a curious arch to his brow.

“I miss them,” you relent. “Almost twenty years since I saw either of them, but the ache doesn’t disappear.”

He nods, lightly jostling his leg up and down.

“I…” he clears his throat, drums his fingers upon his knee, “I don’t remember much before… you know. But sometimes I get these… glimpses of them. Our rodičia. I don’t think she remembers as much. Just that night when the apartment was blown up and that missile was just sitting there - for two days, two nights. But I…”

Pietro smiles. “I remember my mama’s hair; long, curling brown, blowing in the wind. White sheets hanging on a laundry line, shadows, a laugh. It all seems so far away at times.”

“You were young when you were taken.”

“Seven,” he nods. “We had been on the streets for two years when we were picked up. I can’t even remember my otec now. They… wiped it all away with their words, their machines, bastardi!”

You let the silence between you simmer for a moment, letting him ease his woes in the safety of your presence.

“I can’t even remember my own mother,” you admit in a broken whisper.

Pietro turns his head to look up at you.

“I thought people like you just… burst into existence.”

You give a hollow chuckle, “Not quite. She… she sacrificed herself to save me when I was very young.”

He blinks, lowering his gaze, “And… your father?”

Wrapping your hands into an enclosed fist, you let out a long breath.

“That’s… that’s another story entirely, Pietro. Me and the All-Father have a… complicated history in regards to certain things. At some moments, we were as close as can be and others… after Art and ‘Pollo left… well, don’t let me bore you with a Greek tragedy.”

His brow lifts, “Was that a joke?”

You shake your head, offering him a smile in return, “A hint of a pun, yes.”

He hums in return, leaning against the steps - his weight causing the old wood to creak - as he tilts his head back and closes his eyes. The warm evening wind rustles his stark white hair.

Steve returns on the 12th, several days past when he wants to be home. Things had gotten so tied up between the original mission and the HYDRA agent who ended up being an opening into an even bigger operation near the Mexican border.

He had heard mentions of Rumlow’s name on the wires and it felt like he had been running for nearly a week, chasing after another ghost.

The new compound along the Hudson was coming along. Tony was pleased to announce, when they landed the jet late last night, that the main housing unit for the team was completed - they were just waiting on the interior designer to drive up on Friday to finalize that last part of the process.

In the meantime, Tony had a folding camping table and deck chairs set up in the room he deemed their ‘war station… or whatever.’ So, Steve, Nat, and Clint spent three hours going through every last excruciating detail, followed up by marking known locations for both bases of operations and HYDRA agents for SHIELD to deal with.

By the time the sun was clipping the horizon, the supersoldier was in desperate need of a shower and a change of clothes. Luckily, the showers were set up and Tony had stocked the bathroom with exactly three towels. But that was more than Steve had been hoping for anyway, so he spent a long time soaking his aching muscles under the welcomed heat of the shower’s spray.

As he’s about to exit, he spots the billionaire with his feet kicked up on the folding table, a hand held to his forehead.

Tony peeks between his spread fingers as Steve draws near.

“The convenience of modern-day technology,” he sighs as a call comes through on his cell phone. He almost immediately swipes it over to the reject call button.

Steve lifts his brow in question.

“Well, ever since our little fuck up, I’ve had no less than seventeen daily calls between myself and Secretary Thaddeus Ross. If it’s not about dragging me in for a meeting or threatening to lock our asses up, he’s asking about Bruce’s location. Which, yeah, the man can go fuck himself in that sense.”

Resting his hands on his hips, the supersoldier shakes his head.

Things hadn’t eased up after Sokovia. He was starting to wonder if they ever would.

“But, that’s for me to deal with,” Tony shoves his feet onto the ground and stands with a groan before stretching his arms. “While you run and save the day, I’ll make sure the fridge stays stocked and your uniform doesn’t burst into flames or whatever it is I do exactly.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve looks down at the man with a genuine smile.

“Yeah, well,” he gabs, smacking the blonde on the arm as he passes him. “Say hi to the Missus for me, won’t you? And the kids. Those two adorable, rambunctious little tikes.”

Steve sighs, glancing up at the other man, “You’re never going to lay off that, are you?”

“Not until you plan on doing something about it. I’m all for the long game, but the betting pool is getting high, Rogers and Pep’s not gonna let me throw much more into that pot.”

Tony watches him as he goes through the doors to the recently paved driveway and parking lot. His bike remains under a protected shelter, clear of the elements with some fancy Stark Inudstries-branded cover over the motorcycle itself.

Throwing his go-bag under the seat and his shield over his shoulder, Steve mounts the seat and turns the ignition. The bike purrs under his hands.

The billionaire offers him a two-fingered salute as he pulls out onto the main road.

He just knew that he wanted to get home, back to you, in Vermont.

It still felt strange, to call that place home. Steve hadn’t had a proper place to call home since he was a kid in the 40s. He had a house in the Lower East Side, before the Battle of New York. And an apartment in D.C. during his time at SHIELD. But neither of those places felt like home.

They were adorned with his things; trinkets and items, that could remind him of a time and place far away from the 21st century. He had pictures of his friends, the Commandos. But even then, it was not a home.

But this, this strange cohabitation with the twins and Vision, and most importantly you? This is where Steve could truly say he felt at peace. It had been awkward at first, figuring out schedules and dealing with personal preferences, and hell, just being around two teenagers who were fresh out of HYDRA’s grasp.

And it wasn’t that his room on the third floor felt particularly like something he would style - though he had been able to switch out the lilac bedding and frills for things that were more his taste - the house just felt more homey than anything he had lived in after being recovered from the ice.

That was, in all honesty, probably due to you.

God, he was an idiot. Stark was right, he should be telling you or trying to tell you what he feels in his heart. But now it’s more of a challenge to get you alone as Wanda is usually glued to his side and Pietro to yours and it seems like there’s always a chance of Vision just floating through the walls to see what he’s up to.

But regardless of where he’s at in regards to admitting his deeply-held feelings, he’s anxious to get back to the house. To the place he’s easily calling home now, to anyone who asks.

And sure, Nat’s smirking when he says it and shooting glances at Barton, but he doesn’t care. This feels right. Deep in his bones, he knows it’s right.

And… maybe it's because he can forget about the world around him for a little while. Hidden off the grid, in an unmarked location. He can tune out the neverending news reports that call the Avengers the enemy, that demand retribution for their actions or inactions.

The endless journalistic segments that detail over each member of the team and their past failings. Histories that had once been buried under government security software. They call into question their integrity, their ability to handle situations, to aid in peace-keeping.

When he’s at the house, he can just push that all away.

He can just… sit on the porch, close his eyes, and breathe.

Steve’s not exactly expecting a welcome party when he pulls up the drive, two hours later. So, it’s a bit surprising when Wanda is running up to him.

Her hair’s tied back in a large puffy bun and she’s got a black sheer duster on that billows up behind her as she rushes down the stairs. And Steve’s got a quick remark on the tip of his tongue as he kills the engine on the bike, but there’s a look in her eyes that makes him pull it back.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t - they, they just came. And they took her and - ” her voice quivers as she points helplessly at the neighboring line of trees, just beyond the pasture. “And you said to stay at the house if any- if anyone came and I - ”

“Whoa,” he eases, standing up from the bike, his hands coming down upon her forearms in a gentle hold. “Who took her?”

“I don’t, I don’t know! We were in the kitchen and we were talking about Strucker and there was a knock and I didn’t even think! She just, gah, bodaj ho!”

Steve’s eyes are immediately intense, scoping the lay of the land, looking for a sign of struggle.

And then, from the forest, he hears the distant cry of:

“No! I swear to - STOP IT, right now!”

He’s not even thinking as he takes off running.

Your voice is clear as day even from such a great distance. Wanda is just behind him, several yards back. But from the porch, he can hear the confused voice of Pietro calling out to them both. And then the boy is right beside him -

“What? What is it?” he asks, keeping pace a little too easily with Steve.

But then you’re yelling again and the boy is gone in an instant and the supersoldier knows that he shouldn’t have let him go. Sure, you faced Ultron a few months back, but he was still a kid. And he was Steve’s responsibility.

“I swear to the All-Father if you even think for a second that I’m going to - ”

Steve’s pace slows as he enters a clearing. You glance up from the center of a group of women - one of them has a linen measuring tape held to your waist. The cross look upon your face immediately melts when you see him.

“Uh… hi,” you force a tight smile. “Uhm, Steve. You really shouldn’t - ”

But he’s already in front of you, keeping a wary eye on the women around you, “Are you okay? Wanda said - ”

“About that, I’m sorry. Uh… this is awkward.”

Turning to face the others, you ask, “Do you mind? You kind of dragged me off before I could really explain.”

A woman with rich brown skin shrugs. Her dark curls are haloed by a crown of pink and purple hyacinths.

“Just be back by dusk. You know how Di gets.”

And it’s really only now, as the two of you briefly converse, that Steve takes a second to look around at his surroundings.

The forest clearing has been swept clear of leaves and debris. Women are hanging lanterns from nearly every branch around this massive open space. And… yes, that tree is physically moving away from the center of the clearing.

Vision’s nearby, conversing with a man who has… goat legs. Apparently, the sentient being had been with you the entire time. Pietro’s standing off to the side, chatting with a blonde girl in a flowing white tunic when Wanda comes over the crest. Her eyes are just as wide as she takes in the scene.

“She’s fine,” Steve clarifies as she draws near.

“What is… this?”

The supersoldier shakes his head, “I honestly have no idea.”

There’s a canopy being set up by a handful of women now, with wooden tables placed underneath it. Almost immediately, items start appearing upon them; apples, breads and other baked goods, olives. So many olives.

Pallas lands on his shoulder just a second later, obviously sensing his confusion and slight distress from afar. He shoves his beak into Steve’s hair and the supersoldier’s quick to place a hand upon the owl’s head.

“Yeah, I hear you, buddy,” he breathes out.

When you finally break free, you saunter over to him with such a sense of awkward tension that Steve almost doesn’t recognize you beneath it.

“So…”

He blinks, looking out at the women before his gaze drops back to your face.

“What is happening right now?”

“Do you remember, last month, at your birthday dinner?”

He nods.

“When I told Tony that they don’t really… do that for me and Thor. And I said that I don’t have any real celebration associated with me?”

Steve nods again. Pallas pecks at the shell of his ear.

“Okay, well… that might have been a bit of a lie. This is… well, it’s uhm. It’s the last day of the Panathenaia. And my very unofficial birthday.”

He’s gawking, he knows he is, but he can’t seem to close his mouth.

“You’re shitting me.”

“I know,” you scrub a hand down your face. “It’s just… I’m not a fan of the pomp and circumstance anymore.”

“You…” he stumbles over his words as he helplessly blinks down at you, a new revelation bursting like a firework in his mind. “Are you telling me you actually have a birthday and that you’ve been keeping it a secret?”

“Well,” you shrug, crossing your arms as you both watch another three oak trees uproot themselves and begin walking further into the forest.

“Not so much a lie as it was an omission of truth, right? I mean, last year? I was in France when it came around, no one to tell, no one to celebrate it with. The year before that? I was on Olympus. And before that, I was on Axariun III with my father. And well, before that we didn’t even know each other yet. So, all in all… not really me lying.”

“It feels like lying,” he clips, but a smile is playing at the corner of his lips.

“Fair enough,” you sigh.

Steve drums his fingers along the seam of his jeans as he turns, slowly, to take in all the preparations - if that was even the right word.

“So… the Panathea - ”

“Panathenaia,” you correct gently.

“That. What exactly does it entail?”

You grit your teeth, rubbing at your arms for a moment as you look over at the ever-growing table of food that seemed to be materializing out of nowhere.

“Uhm, drinking, dancing, general merry-making. The occasional athletic competition. They throw me in a peplos and offerings are made in my honor, and someone inevitably starts an orgy before the night’s over.”

Steve’s head whips around to look at you, but you’re not even phased by the words that have just left your mouth.

Right, he tries to remind himself. Greek mythology was literally your personal history.

“And this is the… set-up for it?”

“Yeah. Usually, I’m back home when the day comes around, but… well, extenuating circumstances this year kind of kept me Earth-bound.”

“Right,” he nods. “Yeah, that… that makes sense.”

You’re staring at him with slightly concerned eyes, so Steve forces a smile while his mind is honestly still reeling from the new bombshell.

“Want me to introduce you to everyone?”

Noticing the twins off to the side, now conversing with a handful of women - one of them is placing a white floral wreath on Wanda’s head, Steve merely nods.

“Lead the way,” he holds out his hand in earnest. Pallas ruffles his feathers.

First, you introduce him to the Dryads. A group of women with varying shades of rust-colored hair and bark-like skin, who saunter out of the oak trees.

“They were just moving them to clear the area,” you explain.

Steve just responds with a polite nod, because yes, of course, that was completely normal and didn't phase him one bit. He had witnessed aliens from space. Wood nymphs shouldn’t be all that surprising to him.

This is followed by the Anthousai, a group of flower nymphs who are shorter than even Wanda, all of which are decorated with intricate crowns of blooms and blossoms.

The woman you had been speaking to earlier is Euphrosyne. She offers the owl on Steve’s shoulder a polite pat on the head.

“My half-sister. Goddess of joy, mirth, and merriment.”

Followed by a doe-eyed red-head who is named Pannychis who you explain is the Goddess of all-night festivity. And Thalia, who is also your half-sister, and the one in charge of the festive celebration and the provision of a luxurious banquet.

“Uhm, this is my nephew, Comus.”

A young teen with strawberry-blonde curls blinks up at him from behind the edge of a golden cup.

“Son of Dionysus, quite infamous for his revelries, festivities, and general merry-making. Which, weren’t you supposed to be helping Euphrosyne plan?”

“Don’t tell her where I am,” The boy smirks before he dips away, grabbing another goblet from a table as he goes.

“And there’s still a few around here who are too busy to introduce just yet. But… yeah, that’s the beginning of this madness, really,” you pause, looking around with your hands upon your hips. And then you turn to look back at him, “I’m honestly so sorry to be dragging you into this. If you want to just hang back at the house tonight and try to ignore the noise, I completely understand.”

Steve leans against one of the posts keeping the canopy aloft. Pallas gnaws at his hair.

“Are you kidding me? Like I’m going to miss out on this?”

Your brows lift in surprise, “Seriously?”

“Yeah, of course. You’re one of the most important people in my life, Athena. If you want me here, I’m going to be here.”

“Ooh, taking one for the team, I see. Well, even if I can’t have everyone else here tonight, at least I’ll have one Avenger on my side.”

He laughs, “I mean, it’s not every day you get to experience an otherworldly festival steeped in antiquity.”

You stare at him for a long silent moment before you shove at his left arm. Steve lets you move him, a laugh startling out from his chest.

“Hey, you’re making me sound old!”

“Aren’t you a little, considering?” he gestures at the flowing tunics of your companions and relatives.

“Yeah, but… you don’t have to say it like that.”

Steve wraps his free arm around your shoulders, gently jostling you.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you a little sensitive about the age thing? Cause, take it from someone who frequently gets the grandpa jokes. I just want you to know, that I’m never dropping this.”

“Come on, Rogers! It’s funny when we say it.”

He snorts, “No trouble dealing it out my way, but not as fun when it’s returned, is that it?”

“Well,” you pull away from his grasp, wrapping your hands around your arms as you turn away, an indignant clip to your voice. “You know what they say about ladies and their ages.”

Steve laughs, trailing after you before he can wrap his arms around your torso. A furious blush graces his face as you lean back into him, your head against his sternum.

“Don’t be like that. It’ll be fun, I promise,” he speaks into your hair.

Your right hand comes up and pats at his arm that’s resting across your chest.

“You say that now. Wait till you see the dress they put me in.”

A twitch of arousal sparks through his body and he quickly releases you from his hold, but he plays it off with a laugh.

“Honestly, I can’t wait.”

You smack his chest with your hand, “You’re the worst, Rogers. Please remember that. The worst.”

As you walk away to go and converse with your relatives, Steve shyly scratches the back of his head.

He makes the unfortunate mistake of glancing over at the twins, who are both looking back at him with nearly identical smirks on their faces. Fantastic, as if he needed two teenagers on his case now as well.

Turning in the opposite direction, he makes it up the hill - back toward the house - when he extends his arm out for Pallas to move down on.

The tawny brown owl blinks up at Steve with his dark eyes and a curious tilt of his head.

“Hey, pal. If I gave you a message, do you think you could deliver it to a few friends for me?”

He squawks in return, almost as if sensing what the supersoldier has planned.

The fading orange hues of sunset are just barely visible through the gaps in the forest’s lush canopy. Steve smiles at your loyal companion as he swoops across the established party area before landing in a tree along the outskirts of the circle. Keeping watch like always.

People in flowing robes and tunics move through the space with such ease that Steve feels even more like an outlier than usual. The twins, and even Vision, are in attendance - at your insistence. Wanda’s hair is loose, adorned by that white floral wreath still. Her eyes are alight as she watches the strangers with unbridled excitement.

Even Pietro has a leaf-woven crown on as he tries to chat up another girl with long dark hair and amethyst eyes.

“Guys, this is my sister, Hebe,” you interrupt with a tight smile as you loop your arm through the girl’s - effectively pulling her away from the boy. “Hedylogos was looking for you.”

The girl’s cheeks blush into a full blossom of red as she quickly darts off toward the other end of the party.

You look down at Pietro before slapping his shoulder with a light hand, “Seriously? If I’m told you’re hitting on another one of my relatives, I swear I’m going to throw those shoes you like out.”

He balks, “You wouldn’t.”

Steve smirks, lowering his stance to speak to the teen, “I wouldn’t risk it, personally.”

Wanda snorts, looping her arm through her brother’s, “Come. I see food and drink.”

“Guys, don’t take anything in a gold goblet!” Steve calls out.

“Especially if a man in purple robes hands it to you!” You add with a laugh.

With a sigh, you turn back to look at the supersoldier. Steve’s already looking down at you with warmth in his gaze. It’s like witnessing a different side to you, free from the heaviness of battle. Right now, you were removed from the usual expectations put upon you and it was beautiful to see. How you moved between the party-goers, an easy smile on your face, and a laugh on your lips.

“This is nice,” he comments, looking around at the simple gathering.

You blink.

“You know it hasn’t actually started yet, right?”

And then you’re sipping red wine from a goblet encrusted with jewels and you’ve got a playful look on your face and Steve, for as out of place as he feels, just wants to kiss you right here and now.

He shoves his hands into his jean pockets instead.

“Is that right?”

“Come on!” you exclaim, “We’re Olympians, this is barely a family gathering. Wait till the man of the hour appears.”

Shaking his head with mirth, he asks, “I thought you were the one being celebrated here?”

“Oh, I am,” you reassure as you take another drink. “But, well, you’ve met my brother but you haven’t really seen him yet. You’ll… you’ll understand what I mean.”

Accepting that as answer enough, Steve gives a nod and takes a sip of his own wine as more and more people begin to appear in the clearing.

It would surprise him if SHIELD or some other government agency wasn’t picking up on all of the energy signatures materializing in this forest in the middle of Vermont. Slowly but surely, the dance floor and surrounding tables and benches are filled up by more and more patrons.

You introduce him to a four-armed woman with a golden crown. Her dark hair is adorned with a large white lotus blossom. She smiles sweetly at him as she converses with you in another language entirely. Steve watches the two of you as her companion, a swan, pokes around at his shoes.

When she leaves, you turn back to him with an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, I keep abandoning you to go talk to everyone.”

Steve’s brow scrunches in confusion, “It’s your party, you shouldn’t expect to have me glued to your side the entire night. Go, I can hang out with the kids and Vision. I’m sure you haven’t seen some of your friends in a while.”

“No,” you sigh, encircling his wrist with your palm. “Having you beside me is the only thing keeping me from running off right now.”

Looking down at you with an aching expression, Steve slowly slips his hand free from your grasp, only to lock your fingers together.

“Okay,” he says.

Your worried brow softens, a smile teasing at your lips once again.

“I do miss them. I haven’t seen Sarasvati in ages, but… I prefer small gatherings over, well, this.”

He squeezes your hand, “I understand, trust me.”

As a sense of true peace settles around the two of you, you’re swiftly interrupted by the sound of hand drums beating out a melody.

“Ladies! Gentlemen! And gentle beings alike!”

Steve cranes his neck, and you stand upon your toes, as a shrill voice calls out from the center of the party.

“That’s Eupheme,” you whisper.

“I have the sole honor of presenting the Lord of Celebration himself. The Granter of Blessings, the Kind-Hearted Savior, the God of Wine, our dearest Dionysus!”

Several people cheer, others clap, and some even whoop in delight as a processional band from atop the ledge of the forest floor begins to play.

“Τοῦ Διὸς ὁ παῖς ὁ Βάκχος, ὁ λυσίφρων - ”

As the large swaying line of white-robbed people begins making their way down to the party, you lean up - clutching his shoulder - as you begin translating:

“The son of Zeus, Bacchus,” you whisper-sing into his ear. “The liberator of mind, the Lyaeos, the Lyaeos, the Lyaeos.”

“ὅταν εἰς φρένας τὰς ἐμάς εἰσέλθηι - ”

Steve can feel the warmth of your breath against the shell of his ear and the length of his neck. He grips your waist in his right hand as you continue translating.

“When he enters in our mind. By making it drunk, making it drunk, making it drunk - ”

“διδάσκει με, διδάσκει με, διδάσκει με χορεύειν.”

“He teaches me, he teaches me, he teaches me to dance.”

The processional breaks through the space, a line of people and goats and musicians. Aloft a gold and purple cushion, held by four young men, sits your brother. A laurel wreath around his head as he raises his goblet at the many faces he spots in the crowd. He cheers your name as he passes, but you’re still there glued to Steve’s side. The melodic sound of your words against his ear is a heated delight.

“ἔχω δέ τι καὶ τερπνόν o, ὁ τᾶς μέθας ἐραστάς, ὁ τᾶς μέθας ἐραστάς,”

“And I the lover of drunkeness have, desire for satisfaction, desire for satisfaction.”

His fingers dig into the jut of your waist, pulling you impossibly tighter as everyone around you throws flower petals at the God of Wine.

“With beats and songs makes me happily as does Aphrodite, Aphrodite, Aphrodite. He teaches me, he teaches me, he teaches me to dance. He teaches me, he teaches me, he teaches me to dance. Again I want to dance, to dance - Oh!”

You’re pulled from his grasp by two women adored in ivy crowns. Giving a sheepish smile in his direction, Steve watches as you’re tugged into the center of the celebration.

As his heart eases back to a normal beat and the furious heat in his cheeks begins to lessen, the drummers begin beating upon their handheld instruments.

“My most beautiful friends!” Your brother cheers, his sloshing goblet held high above his head. “Tonight, on this blessed last night of Hekatombaiōn, I wish you all to welcome my lovely sister: the Champion of Olympus, the Beloved, the Wise, the Traveler Amongst Mortals, the Goddess Athena!”

Several loud whistles ring out across the forest as Steve joins in with the clapping. You’re shoved into your brother’s side, an unabashed smile on your face as you push back your hair.

“As the unofficial party master - ”

“Unofficial, seriously?” you ask with a laugh.

“I hereby declare that this Greater Panathenaia begins!”

As the crowd cheers in delight, the musicians belting out a jaunty tune, Steve watches as you shove at your brother’s arm before wrapping him up into a quick hug.

“You’re the worst, you know that right?” he can hear you ask.

The man shrugs, completely unbothered, “You’ll thank me later.”

“Wow.”

Steve turns his head, a smile immediately gracing his face as he spots Tony amongst the robe-clad patrons.

“I’m not gonna lie, I feel a little overdressed.”

He claps his hand in the supersoldier’s for a quick shake as the rest of the team slowly appears from behind him.

“Oh,” a sultry voice comes from beside Tony, a soft hand caressing his face.

Steve’s brows rise.

“We can fix that,” the woman grins, a hand pulling at the billionaire’s arm as she begins to drag him away from Steve.

Tony chokes, “I mean, when I said that, actually, what I meant was - ”

Steve laughs, a deep belly rumble, as Stark helplessly looks back at him before he truly disappears somewhere into the roving group of partiers.

“We’re never letting him live this down,” Nat smirks, arms crossed as she watches the procession swoop you up into a dance number - you stuck in the middle as they circle around you. “Or Seven, for that matter.”

“Thanks for coming,” he says, his eyes never really traveling farther than you.

“Shame she tried to keep us out of the loop with it. Families though, they can be rough from what I’ve heard.”

He shrugs, taking a sip from his goblet.

“Her’s don’t seem all that bad.”

Nat’s emerald eyes meet his in the lantern light and flickering flames, “You still haven’t met the old man yet, have you Rogers?”

With a twisted grin that seems to say it all, she takes Clint’s hand - he’s wide-eyed and his mouth is fully agape - and blends into the crowd.

Steve lets that thought simmer for just a moment in his head before he gulps down the rest of his wine and successfully pushes it to the back of his mind. Weaving through the other patrons, he spots the twins at a table under the canopy - talking to a group of Olympians who look around their age. But with godlike immortality, they could well be a thousand or so years older than Wanda and Pietro.

He smiles as the girl catches his eye, offering her a nod of reassurance before he moves on past the overflowing tables of what he now understands to be offerings.

You had explained it all rather quickly that afternoon to him. But he takes his time looking down at the array of items. Lots of olives still. But now he also spots wooden owl statues, pomegranates, oranges, feathers, small embroideries, and drawings. Hell, some of them looked like fan art the team regularly received, but with your image upon the crayon-dusted lines.

He accidentally bumps into the arm of a boy as a group of women crowds into the tent. Steve goes to apologize, but when the kid looks up at him, he feels rooted to the spot when he notices the rather large unfurled white wings on the youth’s back.

“Sorry, a bit of bad luck there, right? You must be one of those mortals my aunt’s always going on about. I’m Anteros. And you are… oh, wow. I see. Bit of a heart-on-the-sleeve type, yeah?”

As Steve goes to back away from the boy, the kid merely shakes out his bouncing dark curls and laughs.

“You’re not used to that are you? Don’t worry,” he smiles as he nabs an apple from your offering table, taking a loud bite out of the fruit; juice dribbling down his chin. “She’ll get there eventually. I might not be part of the Fates, but I can see some things in that regard. Mmm,” he chuckles, chewing the white chunks with a slightly opened mouth.

“Better stay away from my friend Pothos, or he’ll read you right down to the bone with all that energy going on in there.”

“Right,” is all Steve can say because he honestly has no idea what exactly has just happened, only that he feels very raw and vulnerable being next to this kid whose eyes are far too old for his youthful face and body.

As he exits the tent, he runs right into you. Oh, thank god.

“Hey,” you beam up at him with dazzling dark eyes. “Did I just see Hedona fitting Tony for a chiton? Also, when did they get here? How did they know?”

“Might have had help from Pallas…”

“Steve,” you beam.

But there must be a look on his face because your features fall.

“You okay?”

“Wha - yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Sorry, there’s just a lot of relatives around and I feel a little… weird about meeting literal mythological legends. I think I just met your nephew possibly?”

You make a humming noise in your throat as you look over his shoulder, “Oh, Cronus. The Erotes. No wonder you look frazzled, Rogers. My deepest apologies. Stay away from the young boys with hearts in their eyes, okay? Menaces, all of them.”

And then you’re tugging on his arm, forcing Steve’s head closer to your lips.

“Come on, I’m trying to avoid the Charites for as long as possible.”

Words come to his lips like why and what, but they’re droned out by the raucous sound of music and inebriated party-goers.

Steve lets you lead him by the hand through the madness and joy. Swerving through dance circles and casual drinking groups, offering a word of thanks for attending the celebration and a surprising introduction on his behalf.

“Seshat! Thoth, so glad you could make it.”

You’ve just run into a woman with heavy kohl-lined eyes and a yellow animal print tunic. But beside her stands a man with a bird-like head and a long blue cowl. He’s only wearing a low-hanging robe around his waist. He tilts his head in a very bird-ish fashion as he looks down at the two of you.

“It’s been so long, my friend!” the woman beams, grasping your free hand in hers.

You hadn’t let go of Steve’s right hand yet. He’s trying his best not to feel smug about it.

He’s been introduced to the large and incredibly interesting friend group you had long been keeping to yourself. The supersoldier meets a man with a lion head, an Aztec or possibly Mayan deity (Steve couldn’t actually hear his name over the sound of the musicians striking up another song). As well as so many Olympians, he’s fully lost track.

But above all of the noise and splendor, he hears Clint start roaring with laughter. Trailing his eyes across the crowd, he immediately spots the source of his amusement. Tapping you on the shoulder, he stands back and watches.

You turn, the question of what is on your lips, but you immediately hold a hand to your mouth to keep from outright bursting into laughter.

“Okay, little more breezy than what I was expecting,” Tony admits as he draws closer to them.

“Wow, it’s… quite a look,” Steve attempts to restrain his own laughter.

Stark does a little spin, showcasing the simple red tunic with a single gold clasp at his left shoulder. The arc reactor glows a faint blue light from the center of the cloth, making him look both ancient and alien all at once. The hem of the garment is far above his knees, with the threat of showcasing more than Steve would ever wish to see just a sudden gust of wind away.

A camera clicks, followed by a flash, as Nat tucks away her phone.

“Very dashing. Watch out for breezes.”

“Eegh,” Tony groans, holding his hands to the hem of the fabric.

Steve’s so distracted by the strange display in front of him, that he’s failed to notice the woman you’re now talking with.

“I didn’t realize mortal men could be so dashing.”

“Surely you remember the likes of Perseus or Achilles.”

“Mhmm, but there’s something just... intriguing about these new ones. They don’t need you or the All-Father to be powerful, they just are on their own.”

His ears are burning as he tries not to interrupt your conversation, but then he feels your fingers slipping around his wrist, squeezing lightly against his pulse point.

“Sorry, I don’t think I had the chance to introduce you. Philophrosyne, this is my dearest friend, Steve Rogers.”

“Oh, pleasure’s all mine,” she smiles brightly. “But, I’m afraid I’m here for more nefarious means, apologies, sir.”

And then she’s got a hand on your forearm and she’s calling out, “SHE’S OVER HERE!”

Shooting Steve a helpless look, you whisper, “Save me,” before you’re dragged away by a group of smiling women.

He hears mention of a dress and Steve just chuckles, watching you go.

“You look divine, my lady,” one of the young girls says as she looks up at you with sheer delight.

“Thank you,” you respond with genuine gratitude.

While you had made a rather large fuss about the party and the dress and, well, everything to do with the celebrations, you did sort of enjoy it. Long ago, the Athenians had worshipped you in grand week-long festivals. It had been a point of pride and amusement for you as your temple was filled with offerings in your name.

Now, several millennia later, you found yourself, at times, nostalgic for those days. The concept of birthdays had never been a tradition amongst your people. But, as the decades drew on, some small mortal festivities became familiar on Olympus.

“It’s a very fine dress, indeed. I can see the love and hours spent upon it,” you remark with a wink.

Gazing before the standing mirror in your room, back at the house, you admire the sky blue peplos. The sleeves and waist are embellished with golden floral trim, with hints of purple thread that seem to shimmer against the soft blue linen. The sleeves are clasped by two golden pins, each of which is decorated with an owl’s head.

The loose fabric sways as you walk back across the pastures with your personal procession of weavers. Only, when you catch the strange silhouette against the moonlight, do you beg your companions for a moment of solitude.

Finding yourself following in the familiar footsteps left from a few months prior, you move to join Thor against the tall grass of the overlook.

“Ah, my Lady Athena,” he greets, beaming down at you. “‘Tis a fine garment.”

“Thank you. I had hoped to see you at the festivities this night, my friend.”

He chuckles. The loose strands of his hair flutter in the evening breeze, a warm stretch of summer night blanketing the sky with splatters of glistening stars.

“I can not intrude on such an event.”

Biting at your lip for just a moment, you nod, “Well, I suppose that would be true if you were not on the arm of the one being honored.”

His dark eyes gaze down at your offered arm for just a beat before his bellowing laugh echoes across the countryside.

When the two of you, and your procession, appear at the top of the hill leading down to the forest clearing, the musicians break off as your sister, of all people, takes the floor.

“My most gentle patrons, I wish for you all to now gaze your eyes upon the Daughter of Zeus, the Goddess… Athena.”

Giving a small giggle of anticipation, your hand grips Thor’s arm as you descend.

“My friends, family, and drunken guests!” you call out, receiving a chorus of laughter. “Tonight, I wish you all to welcome my honored guest with open arms as you would me. The Protector of the Nine Realms, the Wielder of Mjolnir, the Champion of Midgard, the God of Thunder, the Son of Odin, Thor.”

A few people clap, but you’re quick to add on:

“And if you refuse his presence, I’m going to have Dionysus throw out the good wine.”

“DON’T YOU DARE!” Comes the immediate and indignant shout of terror from your brother.

Soon, the partiers begin to laugh and cheer as the musicians pick back up with another song.

Thor leans down, kissing your cheek.

“Thank you for allowing me to grace your… humble celebration. Wait - ” His voice clips as he looks out over the crowd. “Is that… is that Bragi? I can’t be here but he damn well can?”

You give the God of Thunder a shrug, “To be fair, you have tried to kill or badly maim most people here, Odinson. You can’t expect them to not hold a grudge.”

“But… but…” he mutters, eyes shifting between you and his fellow Asgardian.

“And Bragi gets on well with a few of us, he’s always around for poetry readings and the every-other-decade book club meeting.”

His features pale, “You’re kidding me.”

“Wish I was,” you grin in return, lightly smacking his cheek with your hand. “Have fun. Don’t bed too many of my relatives. If they don’t try to slap you first, now that I think of it.”

You watch as he heads over to the bar filled with many of your brother’s finest spirits. With a smile on your face that seems incapable of fading, you make your way through the crowd in search of your other friends.

To your surprise, you find Steve locked into a conversation with both Sersi and Sprite - who remains in her natural form.

“ - yeah, no. We’ve known each other for… a while. Uhm, college roommates actually, in London.”

“Wow, really?” Steve asks, with a voice that clearly says that he’s not buying it, but his smile doesn’t really give him away and Sersi seems oblivious to his suspicion.

But as he goes to take a sip from his goblet, his eyes catch sight of you. And you can’t help it as you wrap your hands over your bare arms as you make your way over, feeling sheepish and strange in the garments of your kind.

“Whoa,” he says as he sets his goblet down. “You look… wow.”

“Hopefully that was a good wow?” you try to joke.

Sprite snorts, face in her goblet, “Obviously.”

“Hey! See you’ve met my friend from college and her… niece?”

Sersi nods quickly in return. Steve just turns his head, hiding his blossoming smile from her.

“Anyway!” she turns back, grabbing hold of your hands. “As is tradition, I have a gift for you!”

“Come on,” you begin to lament. “How many times do I need to say this: Sersi, my love, you do not need to get me anything. Your friendship is more than enough.”

“Just take the frog!” Sprite groans.

You flash the redhead a smile as Sersi shyly hands over a beautiful pale jade frog.

“Wow…” you murmur, cradling the fragile object in your hands. “This must be…”

“From the gift shop, yes,” the Eternal smiles tightly.

So it was very very old then.

The handicraft is exquisite, the jade is smooth and polished. Maybe… third century, around the Eastern Han dynasty, if you had to hazard an immediate guess?

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit, looking up at one of your oldest friends.

“Well,” she shrugs, chuckling. “Just say thanks. I managed to convince Kingo not to send a golden statute your way this year.”

“He almost went for an ice sculpture instead,” the redhead hums, eyes trained on one of the Erotes chatting nearby. Oh, not Himeros. Honestly, Sprite - have some decency.

“I’m sorry,” Tony butts in. “Are we referring to the Kingo? As in, the action movie superstar of the Indian subcontinent?”

You shrug, looking over at the billionaire, “What can I say? He was a friend from college.”

Tony balks for all of ten seconds before he snaps his mouth closed, “Well, since we’re doing gift-giving, which by the way, your royal highness - ” he steps closer to you, looking completely un-intimidating in his high-hem chiton.

“ - do you know how difficult it is to buy someone the perfect gift when they fail to mention that it’s their birthday and you have twenty minutes to be in the air?”

“Sorry?” you reply with a sheepish tone.

He clicks his tongue, “Yeah, well, your perfect gift is back at the house. Try to hold your thanks and just promise to show up for team training every now and then,”

Dipping away, toward the overflowing bar, you all watch him go.

Sprite smirks, “I like him.”

“Don’t,” Sersi warns with little to no playfulness as she steers the younger-looking of the two of them away.

“No, yeah, I’m with Stark on this,” Clint perks up from his lounging position on one of the benches. Natasha sits beside him with his feet on her lap. “Are we just supposed to ignore your celebrity friend list or what?”

“I know one celebrity, okay?”

“And this? The plethora of pantheons? I’m pretty sure I saw Nike around here because I recognized her from her statue. That’s how insane this is. Speaking of, where’s the old man? Mr. Thunderbolt himself?”

You scoff, leaning back into Steve for invisible support.

“Clint, I’m from Olympus, this is basically a reunion. One in which, the All-Father will not be attending. Not as long as we’re on Earth.”

He lets out a low whistle as Natasha shoves his feet to the ground.

“Ignore him,” she says with a flicker of humor in her dark eyes. “And hey, happy birthday - ” you’re suddenly wrapped into a rare Widow hug, one that you accept all too eagerly as you wrap your arms around her shoulders. “How old are you, by the way?”

“Nooo, I’m not falling down that rabbit hole. Rogers already wants to start up Grandma Athena jokes. I’m good.”

The supersoldier chuckles, you can feel the heat of his breath on your shoulder.

“I’m just saying, they’re more fun to direct at someone else for a change.”

Natasha has a curious gaze in her eyes as she glances around at the other patrons, “I’m going to find out tonight no matter what. Might be easier to just tell me yourself.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” you tease, turning away to grab Steve by the hand as you disappear into the dance circle in the center of the party.

You don’t intend to stay there, in the middle of the dancers, but you’re almost landlocked by them. Unable to break free from their midst. Offering Steve a shrug and a laugh that can’t even be fully heard above the music, you begin to sway along with the others.

He remains still for just a moment, then a moment more, before he leans down to whisper-shout into your ear.

“You want to dance?”

With a nod, you lean up to reply, “I mean, it’s a party after all. Might as well.”

“I’m not really a dancer,” he laments with a flush of pink on his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

You reach up, grabbing hold of the back of his neck to bring him down to your level. Fixing his eyes with a look, you say, “Neither am I.”

His laugh reaches your ears just as the musicians begin to play another number. A loud melody followed by several dancers clapping to the beat. Grabbing hold of both of your hands, Steve spins you around in a dizzying circle before you’re drawn back to him.

With an infectious smile upon your face, you let him lead you in a small space left only to the two of you as the rest of the dancers move and spin around you both.

One of his hands drops down to your waist, while the other dangles over your opposite shoulder as you move in closer - drawn into each other’s orbit like the Earth and the ever-present Moon. Resting a hand on his left shoulder, your fingers tickle the small hairs at the back of his neck as your other hand moves to his waist.

You sway to the beat of the music and ringing laughter and overall drunkenness as the world simmers down to just the two of you, dancing together, moving as one.

Steve looks nearly predatory with his gaze fixed upon your face, his blue eyes a distant memory as the darkness of his pupils takes hold. In his irises, you can see the dancing flames of the lantern lights and the reflection of your own face. Feeling too close, too hot, too much, you pull back.

Tugging on his left hand, you move yourself into a spin - one that Steve finishes with a laugh as you dip away from him before being drawn back in. He seems to take the hint as he leaves your right hands joined together, with his left situated loosely on your hip.

The hand drums batter away as a chorus melody begins. The pace is fast as feet go flying on the ground, hands clapping together in the air.

“Can’t dance, honestly,” Steve snarks as he spins you around once again.

You love the feeling of the sudden rush of summer breeze as it makes the bottom of your dress billow up. Sweat is dripping down your neck from the closeness of the crowd.

With a smile in return, you remark, “Says the man keeping to the beat.”

He shrugs, dipping you nearly backward before dragging you back up to his side, “I mean, I was no dance hall expert.”

“I don’t believe that,” you laugh, as you twist around him, returning on his right side.

“It’s true,” he says with a softened tone. “I would have had to get a girl to dance with me.”

“Oh, Steve,” you pucker, allowing him to pull you in closer than before, your bodies almost touching - the heat between you is electric. “Well, you have one now and she thinks you’re doing a great job.”

“Is that right?” he grins, his hand moving from your hip to your lower back as you’re drawn in flush against him.

Resting a hand on his shoulder, you nod.

“Class act, really.”

You can feel the light graze of his lips on the top of your head, then another press near your temple, and then one to your forehead.

Maybe that Olympian wine was finally affecting him after all.

When you pull back, his face is flushed and his gaze is unbelievably intense. But it’s the sight over his shoulder that has you frozen.

“Oh my god,” you groan, using the human terminology for the first time.

“What?” he questions, still oblivious.

Pushing on his right shoulder, you have him turning just enough to see -

“Oh, wow.”

“You didn’t tell me Sam was here,” you complain.

“He wandered off before I got the chance to,” he chuckles.

“Good thing her husband isn’t here, or we’d be scraping up bits of him for the next month.”

Steve shudders at the imagery.

It wasn’t every day Aphrodite went searching for other companions. Considering she still held a flame for Ares and was married to Hephaestus. But this? This had to be crossing some lines even for a drunken festival.

The man has a hand in her hair - blonde, you note - and their lips haven’t fully disconnected since you first spotted them. She’s got a hand on his chest, as she leans further and further into him.

“Well,” you proclaim. “I’ve officially lost any appetite I might have had. No offense to Sam, of course.”

“I don’t know,” Steve shakes his head. “I think it’s mostly him.”

With a sudden burst of giggles, you grab hold of Steve’s right wrist and proceed to tug him away from the dance circle - far away from the line of sight of an Avenger trying to get it on with your sister.

Pulling your hair back and over your shoulder, you shake your head once again.

“At my party, of all places. Honestly.”

Steve wanders alongside you, careful of the forest floor as you dip away from the main festivities.

“Give a man enough wine…”

Looking over your shoulder at him, you remark, “Seems like you might have had a bit yourself, Rogers.”

With a shrug, his eyes flash up to meet your gaze.

“I had two glasses, that’s hardly anything.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” you tease. “Dionysus�� spirits are said to be even stronger than Asgardian liquor. I’d be careful if I was you.”

Resting against the cool bark of a tree, you blow upward at the loose strands of your hair that are sticking to your warm forehead. The early August heat was doing nothing for your sweaty skin and rapidly beating heart.

You’re halfway up the hill and you’re able to look upon the entire party from here. With Sam and your sister out of sight, you manage to spot Tony sitting on top of the bar - loudly proclaiming some outrageous story to a group of Olympians. Natasha, one of the few redheads in the crowd, is spotted a moment later, weaving her way through your relatives with disturbing ease. Clint, is in the middle of the dance floor, jumping up and down to the song.

Pietro has cornered another one of the Muses. He’s leaning against the post of the canopy, speaking into her hair. Wanda is surrounded by some of the Anthousai who all seem to be crafting new floral wreaths together. Thor is actively armwrestling Agon and you knew that was likely to go on all night. The god of competition would not be easily swayed by a possible defeat.

Steve is a few feet away from you, a little lower on the hill, as he too watches on. The paper in your pocket tempts your hands once again.

You had been toying with it back at the tower before Sokovia. Hell, you had been contemplating it since 2014, when SHIELD was falling and you were technically considered dead for almost 48 hours.

A hand taps at your left shoulder and you completely startle.

“Cronus! You ass! You can’t do that!” you shriek as you slap Hermes' shoulder repeatedly.

Steve looks on edge while your brother merely tilts his head back and laughs.

To be fair, the last time the supersoldier had been in the same room with your brother, he hadn’t been an entirely charming force to be held.

“Oh, come on. Too easy,” he beams.

“Those damn sandals,” you grumble - staring down at the winged footwear that allowed him such stealth-like advantages.

“You love them,” he retorts, flashing his ankle as he tilts them for you to see. “I see you’re having fun.” Hermes lifts his gaze, nodding, “Captain Rogers.”

Steve offers a nod in return, his hands situated on his belt.

“I trust that my gift was helpful,” he gestures at the chain of your pendant.

Pulling the locket free from the peplos, you admire the silver jewelry, “I thought it was a gift from the Fates.”

“Deliverer of gifts then. Speaking of - ”

You watch with widened eyes as a golden halo of light appears from the heavens - three packages floating down into his waiting hands.

“Father sends his well wishes, of course.”

Taking the first box from him - a tiny thing, about the size of the palm of your hand - you lift the cover off.

“Oh my gosh,” you murmur as you stare down at the dazzling blue gems.

Hermes snorts, “I’m sure you know the meaning.”

With a nod, you carefully pull the first earring free.

A teardrop lapis lazuli with a golden clutch.

Looking back at him, you remark, “They’re stunning.”

He says nothing as he hands over the second package done up in purple wrapping.

From within, you retrieve an intricately beaded diadem. The peacock colors are entwined with gold latticework. It’s so delicate in your hand, that you barely even want to pull it free. But then you’re looking down at your companion, calling out a simple:

“Steve?”

The supersoldier, with a wary eye, takes a step up, then another. He’s standing directly in front of you as you offer him up the tiara. With a gentle look upon his face, he carefully lifts the diadem, rotating it around, before situating it carefully on the crown of your head.

With a whistle, he steps back.

“Hera always goes overboard with this one,” Hermes comments in Steve’s direction. “Athena’s about the only one she can stand.”

“Not true,” you murmur.

He blinks, “Seriously? We want to walk down that path?”

With a slow shake of your head - no reason to ruin a perfectly nice night - your brother’s smile slips free as he hands over the last package.

It’s a scroll, wrapped in on itself with a simple white ribbon.

“Careful now,” he comments. “That’s an antique.”

With a cautious eye trained upon your brother, you begin to unfurl the paper. The first glance at the contents has you rolling it back up as you snap, “Did you steal this?”

Holding up defensive hands, he grins, “I might be the God of Thieves, dear sister, but this came from a friend of ours. A certain… woman who puts even my speed to shame.”

You gape.

“She didn’t.”

He beams, “I think we both know she did.”

Turning it slightly for Steve to look at, you unfurl the map once again, “This is the Ebstorf Map.”

The paper extends out, further and further to the point that both men have to hold onto a portion of the map.

“It was created in the mid-13th century by a group of nuns living in modern-day Germany. This was said to have been destroyed in 1943, during the bombing of Hanover. This shouldn’t... oh, that clever woman.”

If anyone in your known circle could have gotten this to safety and kept it perfectly preserved, it would have been Makkari.

Steve’s eyes rove across the intricate work, an artist’s soul soaking up a historical artifact. One that probably shouldn’t be held by physical hands, now that you think of it. Carefully folding it back up and rolling it together, you push it over into Steve’s capable hands as you latch yourself around your brother.

“Thank you! And tell her thank you as well. Cronus, I should get her something in return. Wait a minute.”

You vanish from the forest before either man can utter a single word, appearing deep within the basement of the house. Well, it was listed as a basement, it was more like a museum storage facility, in all honesty.

Makkari might have her own collection on the Domo, but yours was equally impressive. Both between your home in Vermont and your temple back on Olympus. It only takes you a moment to find what you’re looking for - the perfect thing for her never-ending collection - before you reappear.

The two men look up, apparently caught in the middle of a conversation. Steve coughs, taking a step away, as you glance over at him. With a shake of your head, you speak to your brother.

“This isn’t much, but my gratitude can not be understated. Her gift was incredible.”

Hermes eyes you as you attempt to hand over the tablet.

“You’re kidding me.”

“Come on,” you groan. “You know it’ll be safe in her hands.”

With a half-hearted sigh, he takes the emerald tablet from your hands. Oh, she would be wild about it, you just knew it.

“I’ll see that it gets to her with signs of thanks.”

“I appreciate it,” you smile.

Steve helps you get everything back to the house. After rounding up the twins and Vision, the two of you escort your household members back inside. The teens, obviously, were all too willing to stay up late into the morning hours, but you cut them off around 2 AM. And you insisted that he return as well.

Considering the fact that he had just returned from a mission and hadn’t received any proper sleep in nearly 72 hours, he didn’t press too hard about staying back with you to enjoy the festivities.

“Trust me, they’ll only be getting drunker and louder as the night wears on. I can only tolerate so much.”

After Wanda and Pietro head up for the night and Vision disappears to the library down the hall where he had been spending most of his time these past two months, you collapse into a kitchen chair.

Steve lowers himself into the adjoining seat, looking out at the spread of gifts from your closest friends and relatives.

As you pull the diadem from your head, you rub at your tired face - your cheeks puffing up in a slightly adorable fashion.

Laid before him sits a pink bottle with a sea shell emblem, a golden hilt, and a silver dagger. In a very ornate clay vase sits a combination of flowers. You had told him their names, but he can’t recall them now. One has white petals and a yellow center and the others are simple six-petaled white flowers.

From an opened bag on the table, you reach in and begin peeling a mandarin orange for yourself. The sweet citrus scent wafts around him in the hot kitchen - the summer breeze from the open window does nothing to cool the room.

Steve gazes down at the two additional pieces of jewelry you were now adorned with. A golden snake-shaped ring on your left index finger and a dark green jade bracelet on your right wrist.

What’s completely confusing him, however, is the glass in the middle of the table.

Clearing his throat, he finally asks, “What’s with the water?”

You arch a brow as you take another bite of your orange, a dribble of juice sits at the corner of your lips. Your eyes travel to the glass before you swallow your bite.

“My uncle, I’m guessing.”

He nods, but you don’t seem interested in elaborating.

“Is it… special?”

“Steve,” you blink. “It’s water.”

And then you dip your pinky into the glass before bringing the soaked digit up to your lips to suck.

“I’m sorry, salt water.”

“Just… salt water?”

With a snort, you drop the peel on the table and lean back in your seat, arms crossed.

“You’re still not versed on my mythos, after all this time?”

He shrugs, mirroring your position.

“I’d rather hear it from you, honestly. No book can tell me your truth.”

A look settles over your face, one that he thinks is reading as pleased, but he’s a little out of sorts since the third goblet of wine.

“Let’s just say,” you ease. “We don’t get on very well. He was likely required to get me something, but he chose to do so in his own way.”

With a shake of your head, you stand up and pour the glass into the sink.

You stare out the window, at the glowing lights dancing in the center of the forest. Even from a distance, you can both likely make out the continued party down the hill.

After a moment, Steve says, “It’s more than what I got you.”

You turn, fixing him with a gentle look, “Your friendship will be the only thing I ever ask from you. Always, Rogers. No… piece of jewelry or $400 jacket - ” you point at the unwrapped box on the counter; Tony’s gift, “ - will ever be required of you. Just… you. You are enough for me.”

He can’t help it. Standing up and pushing away from the chair, Steve circles your left wrist with his hand as he pulls you in - slowly, gently - to a hug. He can feel the contend sigh you let out against his sternum as you bury your face into his chest. His arms circle your back, fingers tangling into the ends of your hair.

You both stand like that for minutes - though it could be hours with how truly at peace he feels - when, at last, you pull back. There’s a sheepish expression greeting him as you run your palms down the length of your sky-blue dress.

“Bucking tradition, I actually have something for you.”

He groans, closing his eyes, “Now I’m seriously feeling guilty over not giving you a present.”

“Come on,” you beg. “Open.”

When he blinks his eyes back open, he glances down at your extended palms. There in the center of the cupped pair, sits a scrap of paper.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he picks it up and examines the faded brown parchment. Turning it over with his fingers, Steve nearly stumbles.

Because he knows this paper.

He can barely hear your words above the thundering of his beating heart.

“I know, just, okay. So, this has been on my mind for a while now. Basically, this is going to be your link to me now. Whether I’m… across the ocean, or in another dimensional plane. Ever since Russia and honestly, now that we’re going on separate missions with the team, I just… basically - ”

Your fingers smooth over the parchment, landing on the owl constellation marked with ink.

“Long ago, there was a constellation in Pallas’ image. My constellation really. If there ever comes a time when you need me and can not reach me the normal way, I want you to push down on this, like - ” your fingers press into what would be the stomach of the bird, “ - and you’ll get Pallas, who will get me.”

As if on command, the owl swoops up to the window sill, pecking at the glass before you move to let him in. He lands on Steve’s shoulder, gnawing at his hair.

But the supersoldier can’t move, can’t even speak as he stares down at that imagery.

“Hey, I know it’s kind of - ”

He just shakes his head.

“I know this. I’ve seen it before… in my compass.”

You tilt your head, a curious pinch to your brows, “What are you talking about?”

Letting out a breath as he lowers his hands, the paper clenched with his right fist, he explains, “That day that we thought Loki might have been… with the scepter? After New York?”

You nod, after a beat, in understanding.

“You’re saying… you saw this, in the compass? The compass that wasn’t yours.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, feeling the weight of something he can’t even process expel from his chest. “I don’t know how. I just… I remember this being in there.”

Your hands encircle his forearms as you stare up at him.

“There are some things in this universe, that even I can’t explain. Maybe… one day it will make sense. But, I think I’d like to believe that you should hold onto this for maybe more reasons than I originally intended.”

Steve gives a sharp nod, a weird catch in his throat as he says, “Yeah.”

“You’re not going to be far, are you?”

Turning back around, a box in your hands, you shake your head. Pietro looks back at you from the open doorway to his room.

“No, I promised you both that we’d be close by while you get adjusted. I’m two down on the right, and Steve’s one past that. You guys are going to be just fine. Hell, even Vision has a place set up at the end of the hall.”

It had been a strange two weeks, moving everything over to the newly minted Compound.

The twins had their own fears over the move. Pietro had come to enjoy the space at the house in Vermont, the freedom he felt he had with just four other occupants. Now, this place felt a little more… official, and scientific. Tony had a whole section set up for research and development outside of his own personal labs. There were people coming and going nearly all day and night.

Though the private apartments were away from those areas, just looking out the windows would allow you see to the endless flow of people.

Luckily, you managed to lock down a separate corridor near the back of the building, on a lower floor too.

Wanda didn’t like windows. Well, she liked having some windows. But floor-to-ceiling ones made her anxious, and jumpy. She didn’t feel fully protected with them. Tony was all too understanding at your request.

That’s how you found yourselves occupying a hall mostly to yourselves.

Clint and Natasha were in the west wing of the building. Thor and Bruce had designated rooms on the north side of the apartments - though neither room was currently occupied.

Dropping the box off at Wanda’s room, you wipe your hands clean.

You knew it was going to take time for them both to feel comfortable and to adjust to their new living arrangements. But they seemed to understand that this was going to be the safest place for them to be for now.

Even though Tony never went into detail, you understood that the situation outside of the Compound was still… tense, to put it lightly.

Steve glances back at you. He’s on a ladder, helping Wanda arrange her mood lights above her bed.

Sometimes, you wonder exactly where you had been heading all those years ago. The anti-team mindset and your avoidance of people in general. Yet, here you are.

Leaning against the open doorframe, you watch as the pair interact together in hushed tones and soft laughs.

No, you could have never imagined this life for yourself. Not only were you going to have a room here, but you made up your mind that you would in fact be living here, on a semi-permanent basis. No more running back to Olympus at every chance.

You were part of a team now. These were your people, your friends, your pseudo-family.

At the vibration in your pocket, you pull your phone free.

Scoffing at the message - grannie, seriously - you call out, “Hey! Tony says he’s got a free hour if you two wanna head down to do a consult on those uniforms he mentioned.”

Wanda whips around, a look of equal trepidation and excitement mixing together on her face.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I recommend going. Otherwise, he might try and put some armor in there in red and gold tones.”

She makes a face, causing you to chuckle as she waves goodbye to Steve. Running off in search of her brother.

“Kids these days,” you comment for the supersoldier to hear as they both zip past you a moment later. “They grow up so fast.”

He just laughs in return as he folds up the ladder and places it along the wall. She still wanted some kind of canopy hung up above her bed, so you imagined he might have his hands full later.

“So, how are we looking?” he asks as you both head down the hallway toward the main living space.

“Well, it’s not the ‘27 Yankees, but I think we have some hitters.”

Steve snorts as you push through the next set of doors, side by side, striding together through the halls.

“They’re good. We’ll make them into a team.”

You share a smirk with the supersoldier as you make it to the newly finished gym, pausing at the doors as you say, “Let’s beat them into shape.”

With two of your biggest allies out of the picture - hopefully, temporarily - you were faced with the joint decision to mold the newest members into a proper fighting force. Ultron may have had doubts about your ability to come together and work as one, the media might still be feeding those very same doubts to the public, but you were dedicated to proving them all wrong.

Steve enters the gym with an assured look gracing his face. With a nod, the two of you get to work.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Author's Note: Oh my god, not Stethena pseudo-adopting the twins, am I right?

Anyway, here's some importantish notes from this particular chapter that might be of interest to a few people.

Translations: - rodičia: parents - otec: father - bastardi: bastards - bodaj ho: damn it

Clothing: - Chiton (image) - Peplos (image)

Gifts: - Lapis Lazuli earrings from Zeus - A peacock beaded diadem from Hera - A map from Hermes - Perfume from Aphrodite - A dagger and golden hilt from Hephaestus - A clay vase from Hestia - Narcissus flowers from Persephone - Asphodel flowers from Hades - Mandarin oranges from Demeter - A gold snake ring from Asclepius - A jade bracelet from Dionysus - A glass of salt water from Poseidon

The Guest List:

Fauns: half-human, half-goat creatures

Euphrosyne: goddess of good cheer, joy, mirth, and merriment

Dryades: tree and forest nymphs

Anthousai: flower nymphs

Pannychis: goddess of all-night festivity

Thalia: goddess of festive celebrations and luxurious banquets

Comus: god of revelry, merrymaking, and festivity; Athena’s nephew through Dionysus

Hebe: cupbearer of the Olympians; Athena’s half-sister through Zeus and Hera

Hedylogos: one of the Erotes, god of sweet talk and flattery

Sarasvati: Hindu goddess of art, knowledge, music, speech, and learning

Eupheme: goddess of words of good omen, acclamation, praise, applause, and shouts of triumph

Dionysus

Hedone: goddess of pleasure, enjoyment, and delight

Anteros: one of the Erotes, god of requited love; Athena’s nephew through Aphrodite and Ares

Pothos: one of the Erotes, god of sexual longing, yearning, and desire

Seshat: Egyptian goddess of wisdom, knowledge, inventory of writing, consort of Thoth

Thoth: Egyptian god of wisdom, knowledge, writing, magic, science, art

Apedemak: African lion-headed god of war

Mixcoatl: Aztec god of battle, hunting, civilization, and stars

Philophrosyne: goddess of friendliness, kindness, and welcome

Aphrodite

Bragi: Norse god of poetry

Sersi

Sprite

Himeros: one of the Erotes, god of sexual desire

Agon: god of contest

Hermes

Other guests in attendance:

Adephagia: goddess of satiety and gluttony

Agele: goddess of radiant good health

Aglaea: one of the Charites, goddess of beauty, adornment, splendor, and joy

Aike: goddess of prowess and courage

Ame-no-Uzume: Japanese goddess of dawn, meditation, and the arts

Angelia: goddess of messages, tidings, and proclamations

Antheia: one of the Charites, goddess of flowers and wreaths

Apollonis: a muse; Athena’s niece through Apollo

Arete: goddess of virtue, excellence, goodness, and valor

Aristaeus: god of bee-keeping, cheese-making, and olive-growing; Athena’s nephew through Apollo

Bait Pandi: Filipino (Bagobo) goddess of weaving

Borysthenis: a muse; Athena’s niece through Apollo

Caerus: god of opportunity

Calliope: muse of epic poetry

Cathubodua: Celtic goddess of war and battle

Cephisso: a muse; Athena’s niece through Apollo

Clio: muse of history

Dikaiosyne: goddess of justice and righteousness; Athena’s half-sister through Zeus

Eirene: goddess of peace; half-sister through Zeus

Ekecheiria: goddess of truce, armistice, and cessation of hostilities

Eleos: goddess of mercy, pity, and compassion

Eleutheria: goddess of liberty

Elpis: goddess of hope and expectation

Eros: one of the Erotes, god of love and sex; Athena’s nephew through Aphrodite and Ares

Erato: muse of lyric poetry

Eucleia: goddess of good repute and glory

Eupraxia: goddess of well-being

Euterpe: muse of musical poetry

Gamayun: Slavic goddess of knowledge and wisdom

Gelos: god of laughter

Harmonia: goddess of harmony and concord; Athena’s niece through Ares and Aphrodite

Heimarmene: goddess of shared fate/destiny

Helios: god of the Sun and guardian of oaths

Hermaphroditus: one of the Erotes, god of unions, androgyny, marriage, and sex; Athena’s nephew through Hermes and Aphrodite

Himeros: one of the Erotes, god of sexual desire

Horme: goddess of impulse or effort, eagerness, starting an action

Iris: goddess of the rainbow and divine messenger

Nike: goddess of victory

Pasithea: one of the Charites, goddess of rest and relaxation

Philotes: goddess of friendship, affection, and sex

Polyhymnia: muse of sacred poetry

Polymatheia: muse of knowledge

Tekhne: goddess of art, craft, and technical skill

Terpsichore: muse of dance and choral poetry

Theros: youth god of summer

Okay, so while I have had so much fun writing the last few chapters in this arc and connecting lots of moments together into this big finale, I'm gonna need a bit of time before I move on to tackle the Civil War arc. I need to perfect the plot just so and make sure I have all of my loose ends wrapped up before we delve into that realm just yet.

So thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for those of you who have kept up with the story and have been reblogging and commenting on it. It's honestly keeping my passion for this story going. So, thank you again, and hopefully I'll see you soon with the next installment :)

#steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel fan fic #series: shameless wonder #my fic

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yandere-paramour · 6 months ago

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Chapter Six

The awkwardness is almost physically painful. Atalanta apparently had a private chef who came every day to cook her meals. She paid for the labor and ingredients, and this random culinary student just came and cooked a few times a week. Usually the student made a meal plan and emailed it on Sunday mornings and Atalanta would email back either a confirmation or corrections. It was always something healthy, rarely any true sweets.

At least the medication was wearing off. Last night it took all the effort you had simply to move your head side to side; today you can walk without too much trouble. Atalanta still follows close behind as you descend the stairs, arms outstretched to catch you if you stumble.

“Are you certain you wish to walk, Darling? I worry your legs don’t have the strength,” She held your forearms, helping you down each individual stair as though you were a newly-walking toddler.

“I’m fine,” You grit your teeth, kind of nervous as you lift a leg. If you slipped you’d break your neck.

“I could carry you, if you wished.”

“I’ve got it,” You said resolutely.

Pride kept you from asking for help. If you acquiesed and allowed her to carry you like a blushing bride about to experience her wedding night, you might as well just give up your free will now. She would pamper and coddle you like a helpless infant who couldn’t do anything for themself. Maybe she liked you helpless. Maybe she liked it so much she would break your legs and then you’d be forced to let her carry you up and down the stairs. She definitely possessed the power and money necessary to have it done, but by the looks of her muscles, perhaps she could do the job herself.

You shook the thought out of your head. It wasn’t helpful to dwell on uncomfortable and possibly painful speculation. You needed to focus, lest you fall down the stairs and break your legs yourself. It was an extraordinarily long process, at least thrice as long as it would’ve been undrugged, an endless process of step, wait, other step, wait, repeat. Not to mention the exhaustion; each leg felt as though it were weighed down with ankle weights.

Thankfully the kitchen was not far. Atalanta kept your body stable as you shuffled across the floor, then settled you in a sturdy chair, allowing you to catch your breath. Moving quickly, she handed you a glass of ice water, making sure it was secure in your hands before she let go. She kneeled in front of you, encouraging you to drink, stroking your face with her hands.

“Are you alright, my Darling? I knew the stairs would be too much for you,” She fussed about you, trying to check your breathing and pulse.

When you caught your breath, you looked up. The table setting was simple, yet elegant. Fresh cut flowers were artfully displayed in a silver vase, gently illuminated by the morning sun. Two plates were set, one at the head of the table and one immediately to its right. You were on the right, and Atalanta took her place at the head of the table, carefully laying a napkin on her lap.

“What are we having,” You asked, copying her by putting your napkin over your legs, although not quite as elegantly.

“Whole grain toast with apricot preserves, oatmeal with blueberries and brown sugar, and pasture-raised turkey sausage.”

You blinked a few times, “Oh.”

“I do hope you enjoy it. I specifically asked Agnes to make you something high in sugar, to combat the drop in blood sugar from your medication.”

You took a bite of the oatmeal, “This is high in sugar to you?”

She looks at you confused, “Of course. Blueberries are extremely high in sugar. Along with the added brown sugar, it should be very sweet. Do you not like it?”

Talking back to her was one thing, but insulting the efforts of another working-class citizen was another, “No, no, it’s fine, it’s just not very sweet to me. I’m guessing you’ve never had a hot fudge sundae Pop-Tart with double icing,” You snorted with a little smile.

“What is a Pop-Tart?”

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gracev0609 · 6 months ago

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You Look Really Good Like That...

Josh X Danny X Y/N

A blurb within the Iced Chai Universe... The one where Josh and Danny get body modifications.

WC: 800

Warnings: The Iced Chai Universe is 18+ only!, mentions of sex, body modifications.

The three of them got out of the car walking closer and closer to the front door of the tattoo parlor. Josh was rambling, a little anxious about leaving Hazel with his brother for the afternoon.

“I'm just worried about her, that's all!’

Y/N squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him,” I know you are. But, Jake has it covered. It's only for a few hours, they'll be fine!”

Danny held the door open for his partners ushering them inside, he was meeting with his artist today, and getting a new piercing.

After filling out all his necessary paperwork the three of them were brought back to the piercers room.

Danny sat down on the chair, while Y/N and Josh stood with their backs against the wall waiting with him for moral support.

As his piecer grabbed all the tools necessary to complete his piercings he took his shirt off, handing it to one of his loves.

Y/N couldn't help but stare at his chest, imagining the way he was going to look in a few minutes,” You're going to look incredible baby.”

Josh smiled, playing with Danny's cut up tee shirt in his hands,” So fucking hot Danny!”

The piercer lined up the dots on his nipples making sure they were even before sending him off to inspect the placement.

“Perfect! They're going to look amazing! I'm super excited.”

Danny grit his teeth muttering curses each time the needle went through his nipple. Josh's jaw hung slack, his husband looking so fucking fine. He realized he wanted the piercings for himself.

“Um! Do you have time to do mine too?”

Danny's piercer smiled,” Yeah of course!”

Danny looked at Josh,” Really?! You're going to look so good Josh.”

After Danny was done, the piercer set everything up for Josh. They repeated the process except this time Josh audibly said,” Oh fuck!’ each time the needle passed through his nipple.

“God damn! My chest hurts, it really feels like big needles went through them.”

Turning to Daniel,” How are you not complaining?”

Danny chuckles,” Wasn't that bad I guess.”

Y/N tries to stifle her snickering, knowing that Danny often likes the pain in the bedroom so why should getting pierced be any different.

As they filtered out of the piercers room after professing their thanks, they went over to where Danny's tattoo artist was set up. Y/N retrieved a bottle of water from her purse, cracking it open and handing it to Danny.

“Thank you love.” Danny said before taking a few long pulls of the liquid.

“Gotta make sure you stay hydrated since you're torturing your body today.”She giggles, reaching for his water.

“Im fine, I'm fine. S’why I had a big breakfast this morning.”

After a few hours Danny was finally finished, he stood inspecting the new tattoo on his opposite bicep. It was a beautiful smattering of hazelnut tree leaves, buds and nuts following the contours of his arm.

“This looks incredible! Thank you so much!,” he turns to his artist,” I know Hazelnut trees aren't the most beautiful thing, but you made it so lovely. It's perfect for my daughter.”

After Danny gets wrapped up and pays his artists they get back into the car. Her head swimming, thoughts of how incredibly delectable her partners look with their new body modifications. Gently she shifts in her seat, clenching her thighs together attempting to calm herself down.

Danny smirks, his hand coming over to pat her thigh,” You okay love?”

She nods her head agreeing as his fingers massage into her plush muscle,” A little hot and bothered?”

“Yeah…. You both look so hot!”

Josh's face appears over her shoulder and his arms wrap around her and the seat. His hands travel to her chest, thumbs gently rubbing across her nipples,” Pretty baby thinks we look good with these pierced, huh?”

“Josh!” She whined, back subconsciously arching pushing her chest further into his hands,” Do you think we could go home first before we pick her up?”

Danny tsk’d, “ You know Jake said he has plans this evening, we can't be late.”

She huffed, settling back into her seat and crossing her arms making him move his hands. She knew she was pouting, but she couldn't seem to care to stop.

Josh leaned over the seat yet again, placing a kiss to her cheek,” You know… you could always come to the back seat with me love.”

Whipping around to face she exclaimed,” Joshua! I can't believe you!”

“I was just offering if you don't want to wait sweetie.”

She shook her head, laughing in disbelief.

“I can wait until tonight. I want to ogle the both of you anyway.”

#josh kiszka #danny wagner #josh gvf #danny gvf #gvf #gvf fanfiction #gvf smut #greta van smut #iced chai universe

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levans44 · 1 year ago

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Apartment #3 - Chapter 6

pairing: steve rogers x undercover!reader

warnings: 18+ SMUT*, Neighbors to Friends to Lovers, lots of angst, heavy mutual pining, hurt/comfort, eventual smut/romance/fluff

summary: as an undercover agent at SHIELD, her newest assignment involves moving in across the hall from her target. she's strictly ordered to keep her distance—no personal contact besides the absolutely necessary. the only issue? her new target neighbor turns out to be Captain America.

author's note: an idea that's been living in my head ever since steve asked sharon for that cup of coffee in their apartment hallway. as a SHIELD agent, the reader's real name has been [REDACTED] to preserve anonymity.

masterlist

taglist: @tsofo26 @yvonneeeee @cass0419 @nekoannie-chan @felicitylemon @nada3000 @rorilisa @observantplum-blog @strepsils123 @mrsevans90 @smhnxdiii @rorilisa

A loud ding from the timer marks 40 minutes.

She peers into her oven, nervously eyeing her little experiment—the best, fudgiest brownies EVER! as proclaimed by a complete stranger on the internet, but she figured that the thousands of likes and online reviews had to count for something,

She went all out for this particular recipe, fishing for ingredients she’s never even heard of—dutch processed cacao, single origin chocolate, maldon sea salt. Seeing as how she’s never really had luck with baking, she’s not sure why she had chosen such a complex recipe. And just to pack on the pressure, there was a lot riding on these particular brownies. It’s the only reason why, after the second time she knocks over the bag of flour while reaching for the whisk, she doesn’t give up, hastily wiping up the mess through gritted teeth.

Because despite Fury’s orders to sustain minimal contact with her target, she could never stand to be in debt.

And during these past few weeks, she’d been indebted to Steve in more ways than one.

With these brownies, she figured they were more or less even.

One last time, and she could be done for good.

She waits impatiently, fingers drumming on the counter while the bake cools, before cutting up the brownies and draping some aluminum foil on top. She slides the tray off the counter and scoops it into her arms, balancing Steve’s thermos on top.

She slips out of her apartment and makes her way across the hall.

A tentative knock on apartment #4, then once more when no one responds after a little while.

Must not be home. Great. She’ll just return his thermos some other time and take the brownies to work—it’ll earn her a few much-needed brownie points with her coworkers anyway.

She’s just about to turn on her heels and head back across the hall, when she hears his door jerk open, revealing Steve in a white tank top and grey sweats. Her eyes falter for a second, a little taken aback by Steve’s unfamiliarly casual attire.

Eyes wide, he smiles, leaning forward with his palm resting on the door frame.

“Jess! Hey,” His brows furrow a little, eyes flitting down to the tray weighing down her arms.

“Hey, Steve.” She nods, eyes still fixated on how relaxed he seems in his pajamas, before it suddenly sinks in that this might be his rare day off from work. The last thing he’d probably want is her company.

She’s just about ready to thrust the brownies and thermos in his arms and run off, panic rising in her throat.

“Uhm, I’m just here to—“

“—hey, Steve, that the pizza guy?”

A male voice shouts from inside the apartment.

Shit, he’s got company. So definitely not a good time.

Steve swivels around, calling back to whoever is in his living room “Uh, no, Buck, it’s my…”

He turns back to her, eyes hesitating with an unreadable emotion.

“… my neighbor, Jess.” He finishes quietly.

Though her heart already sinks at the mention of his name, her stomach churns a second time when she hears footsteps approach Steve’s side. And low and behold, there he was—the infamous Winter Soldier and Steve’s best friend. It’s the first time she’s seen Bucky Barnes in person, and he’s just as formidable as Steve at first glance—biceps bulging through a red Henley shirt, metal hand sticking out like a sore thumb under his sleeve, not concealed with the glove SHIELD advises him to wear during public outings. He immediately sticks his hand into the pocket of his jeans, surveying her reaction to see if she’d noticed. She feigns innocence, smiling politely.

Yet, not everything’s true to her memory.

His hair’s a little shorter than how she’d pictured, and his eyes a little lighter, a strain of hazel running through the cool blue. Any lingering sense of intimidation dissolves when he smiles, casting a sideways glance at Steve then back down at her.

“So this is Jess, huh?” He smirks, leaning forward as he extends his flesh hand in greeting.

“Bucky. It’s nice to meet you.”

‘So this is Jess.’

That, and the way Steve’s perks up at Bucky’s words, the tips of his ears blooming crimson, could only mean one thing. It’s a glaringly obvious truth that she tries oh-so-hard to avoid.

Instead, she glances down sheepishly at the tray of brownies in her arms, then back up at Bucky’s extended hand.

“Oh, hey, let me get that for you.” Steve quickly reaches forward, taking the tray from her arm. She shoots him an appreciative smile before tentatively taking Bucky’s hand, feeling more than overwhelmed by not one but two super soldiers now crowding the doorway.

Bucky’s grip is more calloused than Steve’s, fingers shorter and thicker. His grip is just as strong and warm, though, and the charming grin he flashes her way leaves her wondering whether he’s just as… forward in meetings with other strangers. The rumor around her office had always painted him as the silent, brooding type.

“I-I was just gonna return your thermos, and uh…” her voice falters, gaze trailing over to the way Bucky was leaning over the tray still in Steve’s hands, lifting the aluminum foil on top curiously. Bucky looks back down at her, smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry, these smell amazing. Are they… shit, Steve, they’re brownies.”

“Buck.” Steve mutters, subtly nudging his best friend’s side as he angles the tray away.

“Yeah, I baked ‘em this morning.” She nods, giving Bucky an awkward smile. She tucks her hair behind her ear, shifting her weight between her feet.

Her gaze trails over to the blonde, who’s giving her that familiar warm smile.

“You didn’t have to Jess, really. Thank you.”

His gaze is so earnest, voice deep as he thanks her. She can only nod hastily in response, swallowing thickly.

Steve clears his throat, taking another step toward her, and gestures toward the apartment with his head.

“Do you… do you wanna come in for a bit? Bucky and I were just about to put on a film.”

And maybe it was the endearing way he still uses the word film instead of movie.

Or the way he seemed so different from his usual put-together look—hair light and soft, standing up in small, unruly peaks as if he hadn’t styled it since he’s woken up. A white sleeveless shirt, clad tightly across his pecs, grey sweats hanging low over his hips.

Or, maybe, it was just his characteristic way of making an honest offer—warm and earnest, without any pretense of false politeness.

Whatever the reason, she finds herself nodding, slipping past Bucky as he steps aside to let her inside.

Steve carefully sets the tray on his kitchen island, quietly chastising Bucky when he immediately starts to fiddle with the aluminum, trying to sneak a piece. She shuffles awkwardly around the kitchen island, so that there’s 40 inches of beige linoleum between her and the two super soldiers. She refrains from peering around the rest of the apartment out of politeness. From what appears in her peripheral vision, though, she can tell that the layout of his house is pretty much the same as her own.

“Those are for me, jerk.” Steve mutters quietly, the corner of his lip quirking up in a smile as Bucky’s starts to pull a slice off of the tray.

“Sharing’s carin’ Stevie.” Bucky mumbles nonchalantly,

Steve gives in with a joking sigh, leaning against the counter as he looks up at her, brows raised.

“Do you want a piece, Jess?”

“Oh, no, I’m okay thank—“

“—holy shit.” She’s cut off by Bucky’s loud moan, holding up a corner piece with a large section already bitten off.

“Fuck, that’s amazing, Steve. You gotta try it.”

Bucky chews as he glances up at her, eyes glinting under the kitchen light. He swallows, licking his lips before asking:

“You a baker, Jess?”

Steve lets out a quiet chuckle, walking around the counter and reaching for a roll of paper towels at the other end.

“She’s a nurse, Buck.”

Bucky’s brows raise at that, eyes lighting up with renewed interest as he sinks his teeth in, taking another bite.

“You must like saving people, then, huh? Like Stevie here.” He juts his elbow toward his friend, who rolls his eyes and shoots her an apologetic glance. She tries to stifle a smile, settling down in one of the kitchen bar stools, feeling a little more relaxed as the two Avengers continue to bicker bout how many pieces Bucky’s allowed to steal from Steve’s tray.

“Bucky’s right, though, Jess. This is phenomenal. How long have you been baking?”

The truthful answer would have been 5 hours. Instead, though, she gives him a smile, shrugging innocently as she answers:

“Not long. Started a couple years ago.”

She figured the whole ‘home-baker’ thing tracked with Jess’s character—alongside the whole wide-eyed, girl-next-door look.

“So what movie are we watching?”

She asks nonchalantly—a clumsy attempt at shifting the conversation away from herself, but it works nonetheless.

Bucky sighs dramatically at the question, while Steve shoots him an amused glance.

“Well…” Bucky starts, picking up another brownie square before walking around the kitchen island toward the living room.

“… Steve was trying to convince me to watch Star Wars with him.” He sighs nonchalantly, plopping down on the living room couch.

And she can’t help but let out a surprised snort at that, hand immediately flying over to her mouth to stifle the noise. Mortified, she glances over sheepishly at Steve.

Leaned forward with both palms on the kitchen counter, Steve looks up at her with a raised brow, a slight twitch in the corner of his lip.

“Sorry, I just… that’s the last movie I would’ve guessed for you.” She murmurs quietly, still stifling a smile.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Steve shoots back almost immediately, his lips breaking open in an amused grin.

“Well, it’s just, you know… kinda nerdy?”

Steve’s eyes flutter shut as he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“That’s fair.”

From across the room, Bucky laughs too, scrolling carelessly through the TV channels as he tosses out a comment in their direction.

“Oh, you thought he was cool, Jess?”

She leans forward in her seat, staring directly into Steve’s eyes as a new sense of adoration blooms in her chest.

Who would’ve thought that Captain America was secretly a geek?

She shrugs, a small smile tugging on her lips as she mutters:

"I'd like to think so."

And despite the fact that the rest of the night is filled with nothing but trivial moments, she feels the knot in her stomach growing tighter with each second she spends with Steve.

When he patted the spot on the couch next to him, gesturing for her to sit down, the fabric of his sweats brushing against her as he shifted to make room. The scent of soft oak and fresh linen as he occasionally leaned into her side, pointing out nerdy tidbits about the Star Wars franchise, eager to share the comforting alcove of fiction he’d found in the 21st century.

Or even when the pizza delivery arrived and she finally got a peek at the box, discovering the name of his favorite pizza place. She had glanced over at Steve instinctively, lips stretched in a knowing smile as they exchanged a look completely unbeknownst to Bucky.

With Steve, her heart beats immeasurably faster at the littlest of things.

And it fills her with more dread than she can bear.

Apartment #3 Masterlist

note: aaaand after an eternity and a half, she finally makes an update. we've got some more shameless flirting coming up folks, brace yourselves

106 notes · View notes

gvfgal · 4 months ago

Text

*New* 12. Barbarian Princess

Barbarian. Biker!Jake

*18+ story, minors DNI!!!

A/n: HI GUYS!! So there are about seven chapters left to this series (plus an epilogue) and I’m going to try not to drag it out any longer than necessary! So be prepared for more frequent updates going forward. As soon as I get chapters finished, I’ll be uploading them 🫶🏾 Anyways without further ado here’s chapter 12! Leave questions, comments, concerns where ever you see fit, and as always, enjoy ❤️

Content Warnings: Not much, just some fluff and of course some angst (cause what’s Barbarian without it?).

Word Count: 4.7k

“Good news for you, Bobby. Looks like we’ll be out of your hair pretty soon.” The Barbarians had made another trip to Bobby’s casino, some of them in the process of stuffing their latest sum of money into bags. Though this revelation was good news for Bobby, he couldn’t see past the piles of cash disappearing right before his eyes. Ace and Jake were getting a kick out of his distress.

“Yeah, you’ll be out of my hair,” Bobby replied through gritted teeth, “but you’ll have bled me dry by the time you get your greasy Barbarian paws off me. I’ll hardly have anything left.”

Jake shrugged. “Guess that’s something you should’ve thought of before you started stealing from us, huh?”

Bobby scoffed bitterly. “I wasn’t stealing from you all. You assholes just weren’t smart enough to see what was going on right under your noses.” He turned to Jake with a crooked grin. “Seems like Rex wasn’t on his job like he was supposed to be, huh?”

Jake’s mind immediately flashed to the money hidden in Rex’s walls. He hadn’t told anyone about it and still had no clue where it came from. The possibility that Rex had been up to no good behind the Barbarians’ backs, potentially in cahoots with Bobby, unnerved him. If Rex had indeed been siphoning money from the group and someone found out, it could spell even more trouble for Jake.

On the defense, his fist flew before Bobby could brace himself, the punch landing squarely on his jaw. Bobby crumpled under the force, collapsing into the arms of his men who were conveniently standing behind him.

Ace chuckled and shook his head. “Thought you’d learn by now to keep that mouth of yours shut, Bobby.”

The tension in the room thickened. Bobby’s men looked ready to pounce, but the sight of the Barbarians, cool and composed, kept them in check. Jake shot Bobby a glare, his eyes burning with a warning.

Ace clapped Jake on the shoulder. “Alright, enough fun. Let’s get out of here.”

The Barbarians gathered their bags and headed towards the exit, the sound of heavy boots on the casino floor echoing ominously—a stark reminder of the power they held. Jake shot a final glare at Bobby, ensuring his message was clear. Outside, the night was still and dark, the perfect cover for their departure.

As they stepped into the cool night air, Ace nudged Jake with a grin. “You know, kid, you gotta stop knocking out our business partners. Makes it hard to keep relationships civil.”

Jake smirked, rubbing his knuckles. “He had it coming.”

Ace laughed, the sound rumbling through the quiet night. “Guess we know what button to press if we need you to swing next time. Just mention old Rex.”

The Barbarians shared a chuckle, lightening the tense atmosphere, but all Jake could think of was the money. They moved towards their bikes, the metallic clinks of their gear echoing softly. Jake swung his leg over his Harley, feeling the familiar rumble beneath him. Ace and the rest of the crew followed suit, their bikes growling in unison.

Ace revved his engine and turned to Jake, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Next time, let me know before you decide to redecorate someone’s face. Gives me a chance to place bets.”

Jake chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind. Let’s get out of here.”

Ace turned to the group of guys with Nicky, who were busy loading the money into the truck. “We’ll take off ahead of you guys. Put some distance between us, just in case.”

Nicky gave Ace a salute, casting his usual glaring scowl at Jake before continuing to direct the crew.

Jake rolled his eyes, mounting his bike and pulling on his helmet. “That guy’s got a stick so far up his ass, I don’t think it’ll ever come out.”

Ace laughed, “That’s just Nicky being Nicky.”

The roar of engines filled the night as the Barbarians revved their bikes. They shot one last look at the casino, its neon lights flickering in the distance. With a nod from Ace, they tore down the road, leaving Bobby and his empty vault behind. The night swallowed their roars, but the message was clear: the Barbarians were not to be trifled with. And this was all thanks to Jake.

About twenty minutes into their ride, the group saw the flashing of red and blue lights behind them.

“Shit,” Ace grumbled under his breath. Jake looked back at the two motorcycle cops behind them, then over to Ace. They both wondered the same thing: should we run? Their first instinct was always to evade, given their club’s history with law enforcement and the thrill of the chase.

But knowing too much was at stake, Jake nodded towards the shoulder of the road, and one by one, the Barbarians began pulling their bikes over. They had nothing incriminating on them, and this was likely just harassment.

The cops pulled up to the front of the procession, right beside Jake and Ace.

“Evening, officers,” Ace greeted before the men even dismounted their bikes. “Any reason you’ve pulled us over?”

The pale, slender cop slinked his way over to Jake, while the shorter, dark-skinned officer walked up to Ace with a faux grin.

“Just wanted to see what you guys were doing out here this time of night.”

Ace shrugged. “Just taking a ride with the boys. That a crime?”

Jake fought the urge to scowl at the bony cop standing over him, attempting to intimidate him. He wasn’t scared in the slightest, just annoyed.

“Nope. Not a crime. We just—”

“We noticed you guys have been taking a lot of trips up to Bobby’s casino,” the cop near Jake interrupted, smacking his gum in an increasingly annoying way. “Care to explain that?”

Just then, the large box truck driven by Nicky zoomed past the group, safely out of the meddling officers’ grasp. Jake smirked as he watched it go by, then turned to the lanky officer standing far too close to him with a shrug. “What can we say? We love to gamble.”

The officers weren’t ready to relent just yet. “Gambling, huh? You sure you boys aren’t up to something more… interesting?”

Ace’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Officer, the only thing we’re up to is trying to find the next blackjack table. You know how it is.”

The shorter cop narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying it but unable to prove otherwise. “Well, just make sure you don’t get into any trouble, if possible. We’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

Jake grinned, his patience wearing thin. “Good to know someone’s looking out for us.”

The cops exchanged a look, then reluctantly backed off. “Alright, move along.”

The black cop began making his way back to his bike, but the other stood lingering beside Jake as if he had something else to say. Jake waited patiently with a smug look on his face.

When the officer realized he could say no more, he finally turned to join his partner, the two mounting their own bikes before speeding off into the night.

Jake shook his head, frustration evident. “All the trips we’ve made through here, and now those fuckers decide to stop us.” He put his helmet back on and turned to Ace. “How much you wanna bet Bobby had something to do with it?”

Ace chuckled, a dark humor in his eyes. “I wouldn’t be surprised. He probably didn’t take kindly to getting knocked on his ass. Luckily, the money made it past. That’s the most important thing.”

“I should’ve hit him harder,” Jake muttered, clenching his fist to gauge how sore it’d be the next morning.

Ace raised an eyebrow, grinning. “It’s not too late to turn around.”

Jake smirked, but shook his head. “He’s not worth the energy. Besides, we need to be getting back to town.”

The men revved their engines once more, the powerful roars echoing through the night. One by one, the Barbarians pulled back onto the road, their headlights piercing the darkness as they continued their journey back to Riley’s.

They weren’t done with the partying yet. As soon as they arrived, the sound of laughter and the clink of glasses filled the air. Angela, alone behind the bar, was already arranging a round of shots.

Ace grabbed two from the countertop and handed one over to Jake. “Gonna stick around for a while?”

A few other Barbarians crowded around them, raising their glasses before throwing back the shots. The burn of the liquor was a familiar comfort to Jake, and he savored the sting before setting his shot glass down on the table.

“Nah, I should be getting home to Cherry. She’s probably looking for me.”

The men around him erupted in playful teasing, shoving him and calling him whipped. Jake took it all in stride, a grin spreading across his face. He didn’t mind the ribbing, especially when it came to you, the mother of his unborn child.

“Alright, alright, leave the kid alone,” Ace laughed, giving Jake a rough shove. “Get outta here before she calls me looking for you.”

Jake said his goodbyes, the anticipation building as he made his way back to Cactus Creek, back to you, his favorite place to be these days.

He found you in your usual spot on the couch, curled up watching TV, waiting for his return. The soft glow of the screen illuminated your face, and his heart swelled at the sight of you.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greeted as he joined you on the couch. You were finally beginning to show, though just barely. A small bump in your lower stomach that filled both of you with a happiness you never thought possible.

“Hey,” you nuzzled into his side as he pulled you close, his hand immediately moving to rub over your stomach. “I missed you.”

“I know, I missed you too. And I missed you,” he spoke to the bump, a bright smile lighting up his tired features. It was always so endearing to you, the way he spoke to the baby as if it were already here. No matter what mood he was in, joy always found him whenever he got the opportunity to do so.

“Just three weeks,” he continued, his voice soft with wonder. “Three weeks, and we get to find out what you are.”

“Mhmm,” you were enjoying his excitement about finding out the gender, but you already had your suspicions about what was growing inside of you. “She did tell me that’s she’s craving that twenty-four hour Chinese takeout from Wu’s.”

Jake looked up at you with playful apprehension, “She? you seem so sure that it’s a girl. What if it’s another Barbarian Prince in the making?” He winked

“Hey, I’ve been the one stuck hanging out with her for the past three and a half months, I think I’d know better than anyone what she’s gonna be,” you laughed, “which is also how I know she really wants that Chinese takeout.”

“Alright alright,” Jake chuckled, sitting up from his lax position, “Chinese takeout it is, then. Anything for my girls,” he joked, throwing the word ‘girls’ out as if it were some unbelievable notion, “but we’ll let the doctor be the final decider on that.”

He moved to put his boots back on, grabbing up the keys to the truck as he made his way to the door.

“Hey Jake,” you called to him before he could leave. He turned back to look at you. You could see the exhaustion evident in his face, but you knew he’d never let it get in the way of doing for you. Never in a million years did you think you’d be so lucky to have someone who cared for you so much. After all you’d been through in your life, sometimes it felt too good to be true.

“I love you.”

Jake smiled at you, “I love you too, Cherry. More than anything.”

The ticking of the clock on the off-white wall was the only sound breaking the silence in the doctor's waiting room. You sat there, leg bouncing impatiently, flipping through a maternity magazine. The article on lactation held little interest for you; it was merely a distraction. You were minutes away from discovering the gender of your baby, and Jake was nowhere in sight.

The waiting room was filled with other expectant mothers, many visibly far along in their pregnancies, each accompanied by a supportive partner or family member. Your worry began to grow, and you pulled out your phone to double-check the appointment time.

You: 3:30pm!

Jake: 10-4 mama bear. See u at 3:30.

You sighed and stuffed your phone back into your purse, trying to quell the rising anxiety. Picking up the magazine again, you half-heartedly glanced at the pages, but your eyes kept darting toward the door, hoping to see Jake's familiar form striding in.

The doorbell chimed, and your heart leapt. But it was just another couple, the woman looking ready to give birth any day now. You glanced at the clock, its hands moving inexorably toward three-thirty.

Right on cue, a nurse appeared, calling your last name with a broad smile. You managed a small grin in return and cast one last hopeful glance toward the door before setting the magazine aside and following her to the back.

The nurse began the routine checkup, taking your blood pressure, measuring your heart rate, and asking a series of standard questions. The mechanical nature of the process offered little comfort.

"And I see here you have a Mr. Jake Kiszka listed as the father," the nurse noted, looking up from her clipboard. "Is he supposed to be joining us today?"

You sighed, feeling a twinge of disappointment but quickly brushed it aside. "He's supposed to be here," you replied, forcing a smile. "He will be here."

The nurse nodded understandingly and continued with her questions. As she worked, you tried to focus on the excitement of the moment rather than the empty seat beside you, hoping Jake would walk through the door any second now.

Once the nurse completed her initial checks, she excused herself to fetch the doctor for the ultrasound. Alone in the room, you took the chance to call Jake one last time. The phone rang endlessly before going to voicemail, leaving you feeling more anxious. You were about to dial again when the door opened and Dr. Turner walked in.

You listened quietly as she reviewed a few routine matters, nodding at appropriate moments, but your eyes kept darting to the door, hoping Jake would appear.

“Alright,” Dr. Turner said, grabbing the gel from the counter, her short bob swaying, “I’m going to apply this on your belly. It’ll feel a little cold, just a heads up.”

Your heart sank at the thought of Jake missing this special moment, and your mind raced with worst-case scenarios. But just as the cold gel touched your skin, the door burst open, and there he was. Jake stood breathless, looking disheveled with sweat dampening his hair, but to you, he was a sight for sore eyes.

The nurse behind him tried to hide her amusement at his dramatic entrance.

“Hey, I’m so sorry,” Jake rushed out, thanking the nurse as he moved to your side. “Dr. Turner, good to see you,” he greeted, but his eyes were on you, filled with relief.

He leaned down, kissing your forehead repeatedly. “I’m sorry, baby. I got caught up with some stuff.” You squeezed his hand, smiling up at him, “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here.”

“As am I,” Dr. Turner chimed in, spreading the gel smoothly over your stomach. “You definitely don’t want to miss this.”

Jake held your hand tightly as she began gliding the transducer over your belly. The ultrasound image flickered to life on the screen, and despite not fully understanding what you were seeing, the sight of your little one filled you both with joy.

“Alright,” Dr. Turner announced, “everything looks good—normal, nothing out of the ordinary.” She scanned a bit more, then asked, “Do you want to know the gender now, or are you planning to wait?”

“We want to know,” you said, voice barely above a whisper, not quite sure why you felt the need to be quiet.

“Do you want to know now?” Dr. Turner teased with a smile.

Jake’s eyes lit up. “You mean you can tell us now? We don’t have to wait for you to print some stuff up?”

Dr. Turner chuckled. “If you’d like to wait for me to ‘print some stuff up,’ we can, but I can tell you right now.”

You nodded eagerly. “What is it?”

The doctor paused for a moment, double-checking the image, before she revealed, “It looks like you two are having a little girl.”

Your excitement bubbled over, making you want to leap off the table and dance. “I knew it, Jake! I knew she was a girl!”

Jake stared at the screen, a look of astonished joy spreading across his face. “Holy shit,” he muttered, causing you and Dr. Turner to laugh.

“We’re having a girl,” he repeated, looking at you with pride shining in his eyes. “Cherry, we’re having a girl!”

“Can you show us?” Jake asked, still in awe. “How do you know it’s a girl?”

Dr. Turner pointed out specific areas on the screen that looked like nothing more than pixilated blobs to you. She could have said anything, and you would have believed it, so filled with awe and happiness were you both.

The room buzzed with excitement as Dr. Turner finished the scan, going over a few important points with you. She printed out the ultrasound photos, which you both gazed at like they were treasures. As you made your way to schedule your next appointment, Jake’s hand remained firmly in yours, both of you grounding each other in this unforgettable moment.

After the appointment, you and Jake decided to celebrate the big news with an early dinner at Gino’s. You ordered one of your favorite desserts, savoring every bite while Jake watched you with a fond smile. He loved seeing you happy, especially now with the news of your little girl.

On the drive home, Jake mentioned needing to stop by the Tavern to pick something up from Ace. You, feeling full, tired, and pregnant, grumbled the entire way there.

"Jake, I've been out all day. I'm exhausted. I just want to go home and cuddle."

He chuckled, reaching over to squeeze your thigh. "I know, baby. We can still do that. I'll be quick, I promise."

As you pulled into the gravel parking lot, you noticed it was lined with Barbarian bikes and a few cars, signaling a full house. However, the usual rock music was absent, and the normally bustling area seemed strangely quiet.

"You want to come in real quick?" Jake asked as he killed the truck’s engine. Despite your fatigue, curiosity got the better of you. Something was definitely up, and this was Riley’s Tavern, your Tavern now, and you wanted to be in the loop.

You hopped out of the truck and followed Jake to the door, eyes squinting with suspicion. As soon as he pulled the door open, you were greeted by an explosion of pink—streamers, balloons, and banners hung everywhere, one of them with ‘Barbarian Princess’ etched across it in pink paint. The room was packed with your Barbarian family, who erupted into cheers and shouts of "It’s a girl!" as you entered.

Your jaw dropped, and tears welled up in your eyes. The surprise and joy of the moment overwhelmed you. Jake wrapped his arm around you, grinning ear to ear. "Surprise!" he whispered in your ear.

"You planned this?" you marveled, looking at him, then back at the crowd of hardened men who had shed their tough exteriors to celebrate this moment with you and Jake.

"Well, Angela and I did," he shrugged. "We’ve got a lot of blue decorations to return to the store, by the way."

Ace appeared from behind the crowd of men, a pink party hat perched on his bald head, holding a pink, fruity drink in one hand and a cold beer in the other.

"Hey, I had a hand in this too," he corrected, approaching with a grin. "I’ve been here all evening blowing up pink balloons." He handed you the pink drink. "A mocktail for the mother-to-be," he said, then gave the beer to Jake. "And an ice-cold brew for the Barbarian’s newest girl dad."

The room erupted into cheers as everyone raised their drinks to toast the newest addition to the family, and the party kicked off. Angela found you in the crowd, giving you a big hug. "I’m so happy for you."

"I love you, thank you."

Jake was on cloud nine, walking around the tavern with his chest puffed out in pride, basking in the joy of the night. After receiving congratulations from everyone, you found a quiet table near the back of the room. You watched as Angela and the new bartender you hired served drinks, and the Barbarians partied. Despite the happiness, the news of your baby’s gender had your mind swirling with new thoughts and worries. You blamed your pregnancy brain and the trauma from your past for letting your thoughts wander during such a joyful time.

After a few minutes alone, Ace plopped down beside you, still wearing his party hat. He smiled at you, and you did your best to conceal your troubled thoughts.

"So... a girl, huh?" Ace smirked, his tone warm and teasing.

You couldn’t help but smile back. Ace always had a way of making you feel at ease. He was one of the first people you met when you arrived in Genoa, and he had been like an uncle, looking out for you when Riley passed. Knowing you had someone like him made life there a little easier.

"I know," you chuckled, twirling your straw around in your empty glass. "Can you believe it?"

Ace sensed something was off and leaned in, his tone growing more serious. "Everything alright, sunshine?"

You perked up, not wanting to reveal how conflicted you felt. "Everything’s fine! I’m really happy; I wanted her to be a girl. I knew she was a girl. It’s just..." You trailed off, your eyes drifting to Jake across the room. He was all smiles, challenging some of his brothers to a game of pool, money on the line, of course. He seemed blissfully unaware of the additional emotions the news had stirred in you.

"Girls are different, you know, Ace?" you continued, watching Jake line up a shot on the table. "We’re dealt different cards in this world."

Ace nodded, waiting to see what else you had to say. Your hand unconsciously found your stomach, rubbing it soothingly. "I just hope she’s dealt better cards than I was."

Ace took a swig from his beer, his eyes thoughtful as he watched Jake. "Look, sunshine," he began, "I don’t know what kind of cards you’ve been dealt in your life, and I don’t need to." He shifted his gaze back to you. "But you wouldn’t be in this position right now if it weren’t for the hand you had. There's a hidden beauty in that, you know?"

You stopped staring at Jake to meet Ace’s eyes. His words resonated deeply, cutting through your worries. "I think, sometimes, our hands—no matter how shitty they may be—set us up to be exactly where we’re supposed to be," Ace continued. "And that, sunshine, that’s the beauty of life. It’s unpredictable, and we can’t control everything."

His words were exactly what you needed to hear. Ace wasn't just offering a generic pep talk about how you'd be a great mother or how you’d shield your daughter from repeating your mistakes. Instead, he reminded you that your daughter would have her own journey, her own set of challenges and joys, and that was okay. It wasn't your job to control every aspect of her life; it was your job to support her as she played the hand she was dealt.

"Thanks, Ace," you said, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "I guess I needed that reminder."

Ace grinned, raising his bottle in a small toast. "Anytime, sunshine. I’ve always got your back.”

You smiled, feeling a renewed sense of peace and acceptance. As you glanced back at Jake, still engrossed in his pool game, a wave of gratitude washed over you. Your daughter would indeed have her own path to walk, but she wouldn’t be alone. She would have you, Jake, and an entire community of support behind her. In that moment, you realized that was the best hand anyone could ask for—one filled with love, support, and the strength to face whatever life might throw her way.

“Refill?” Ace asked, pointing at your empty glass. You slid it across the table with a nod. “Extra cherries in this one.”

You and Jake lingered at the party for another hour before slipping away, escaping the lively clamor and heading home. The drive was a serene contrast to the day’s excitement, the quiet road a perfect backdrop for reflecting on the news you had received earlier that day. When you arrived, you invited Jake to relax in Riley’s old, rickety hammock, tucked away on the back side of the trailer. It creaked under your weight, but the night air was cool and comforting as you both lay back and gazed at the star-studded sky.

“I still can’t believe we’re having a little girl,” you said softly, your eyes wandering through the constellations. Jake’s hand rested gently on your growing bump, his touch warm and reassuring.

“I know,” he replied, his voice tinged with wonder. “Who would’ve thought?”

“Well, I thought,” you teased, “I knew. It’s just crazy that I was right.”

Jake poked playfully at your side, making you squirm slightly before you both settled into a peaceful silence. His gaze remained fixed on the cosmos, his mind seemingly lost in the vastness above. You cherished these quiet moments with him, feeling a profound sense of connection.

“Where would you go, Cherry?” Jake’s voice broke the silence, his tone unexpectedly serious.

“Huh?” You turned to face him, curiosity piqued.

“If we packed up tonight and left all of this behind,” he continued, “where would you go?”

The question caught you off guard, though it was something you had considered many times before. Life had changed drastically for you in recent months, thanks to Jake, but the idea of running away still lingered in the back of your mind.

You paused, gathering your thoughts as Jake waited patiently.

“Somewhere quiet,” you finally answered, “way up north, like Washington. I’d love to live in a cozy house out in the woods, maybe with some land to grow fruit trees.”

Jake’s brow furrowed, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Fruit trees?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a hint of excitement, “I could grow fruit, make my own jams and preserves. Maybe I’d sell them at a farmer’s market.”

Jake’s smile widened. “I can see you doing that.”

You continued to ramble about the joys of living off the land, Jake listening intently. The image of your dream life was vivid and compelling, and he could see the happiness it brought you.

But as Jake listened, his thoughts began to drift. Things lately felt almost too peaceful, a stark contrast to the turbulent life he was accustomed to. He couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that trouble was always lurking just beneath the surface, he just couldn’t pinpoint what direction it was coming from. The money he had stashed away in Rex’s house, the potential for a new life—everything seemed to be aligning perfectly, but Jake’s instincts told him to be cautious.

A part of him wondered if now was the time to act, to take the money and make your dream a reality before anything could go wrong. Yet another part of him hesitated, sensing that the right moment hadn’t arrived yet. He knew that when the time came, he would have to be ready—but he just hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

Taglist: @edgingthedarkness @earthgrlsreasy @wetkleenex-gvf @hollyco @dannys-dream @slut4lando @josh-iamyour-mama @gretasfallingsky @takenbythemadness @scoreofinfantryvines

#greta van fleet #gvf #greta van fic #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut #gvf fic #jake gvf #greta van fleet fic #jake kiska fic #jake kiskza smut #jake kiskza x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake greta van fleet #jake kiszka #greta van angst #greta van fluff #greta van fleet fan fiction

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snaillock · 1 year ago

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kurona ranze as your bf: random hcs

tags: male!reader, reader is taller than kurona(5’6), reader is a blue lock player, me gushing over a character that has literal crumbs of info available so i’m making this up as i go, oh my god he is literally a bipedal lemon shark

kurona ranze. *sighs dreamily* kurona ranze…

he is literally a magenta lemon shark (*gasp* a strawberry lemonade shark… bro my fucking mind)

you two would literally be the “excuse me, he asked for no pickles” bf x standing behind you at the register bf

i do believe he has a good amount of self-confidence but only speaks when he feels it’s necessary so he’s completely cool with you being the more assertive one in the relationship

he is also so so loyal. one of the most loyal men you’ll ever meet and is just as reliable off the field as he is on field

i feel like he isn’t a big fan of pda so you gotta show him your love when you two are alone cause it feels a lot more special to him. besides you guys prob gotta hide it from all the bltv cameras anyway

when he warms up to the relationship more, he’ll absolutely love physical affection from you even becoming clingy for your attention once you two are alone

you absolutely love doting on him (i mean just look at him) and he clearly enjoys that type of attention from you so much but would never admit it out loud

he is literally the perfect height for easy discreet forehead kisses so you can simply sneak one in quickly and walk off before he can fully process it

it’s so cute how short he is that if you’re able to pick him up, you would (if he’s comfortable with it ofc) but if he gets a leg cramp during training, then that’s the perfect excuse to carry him off the field so he can rest

when he gets flustered, it’s just the most adorable sight ever. his cheeks getting just as pink as his hair and him nervously gritting his teeth, possibly hiding his face in his shirt collar

speaking of his hair if you two share the same dorm room together, you could offer to do his braid for him in the morning before practice or a big match. such a simple yet sweet act of affection that makes his heart flutter when he feels your hand going through his hair

you’ve ever seen those tiktoks of a lemon shark getting nose rubs? yeah it’s exactly like that

don’t get me started on his teeth. he seems pretty neutral about his shark like features so feel free to openly gush about how cute they are to him. he’ll probably let you poke and prod at the pointy ends when he feels like it

he gives me a partner who just randomly bites you affectionately vibes and i’m not just saying that bc of his serrated teeth (it is mainly bc of that) but i can imagine whenever he doesn’t feel like expressing his love verbally, he just gives you a good ol’ chomp right on the meat of your bicep!

the way he repeats his last words (it’s a speech tic idc what anyone says) is also so so endearing that part of his character is just *chefs kiss*

you two were probably pretty subtle about your relationship only bc you two mutually agreed on not being too open about it with the others plus your teammates won’t expect such a pairing anyway.

can you imagine their surprise when they do find out? it probably started out with some of the observant ones noticing how weirdly… ‘close’ you two have gotten. small rumors forming about what possible relationship you have with kurona, mainly thanks to you accidentally slipping out a pet name one time while you were greeting him in front of the team

until all their suspicions are confirmed when one of your teammates spots you two kissing when you thought you were completely inconspicuous and alone

once the secret was out, you two were certainly crowned the cutest boyfriends in blue lock

hello message from me from the future. if you want more male reader content, then check out more of my blog :3

#★ snail.writes ★#kurona ranze #kurona x reader #kurona ranze x reader #blue lock kurona #kurona x male reader #blue lock x male reader #wrote this while listening to mitski (bmamc)#kurona is so texas reznikoff vibes #im being so serious right now #you know sometimes i feel bad about having messy looking posts #but then i remember it’s my blog and i can vomit out as many hcs as i want

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friendship-ditch · 1 month ago

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Whumptober Day 25 - Stitches

Platonic Faramir x Fem!Reader ✼

Summary: Faramir is terrified of getting stitches, but also too stubborn to admit it.

Warnings/Notes: Wound stitching? None, really

Word Count: 1139

“They say you vanquished the enemy, almost single handedly.” You poked your head into the room where Faramir lay on the bed. His eyes were closed but fluttered open as you stepped into the wound.

He’d been rushed to the Houses of Healing after a particularly nasty skirmish against orcs left him with a deep wound down his side. The other medics had quelled the bleeding enough to a non-fatal point but it would need stitches, which you were sent to finish up.

“They lie.” Faramir chuckled weakly. He tried to sit up but the movement sent a wave of pain through his body so he fell back down. His fingers fidgeted with the blanket. “I was taken down moments after the battle started.”

“Boromir says differently.” You went over to the medical supplies left in the room, plucking a needle from the mix and some thread. “He’s been going around telling everyone how fine of a job you did.”

“He likes to boast on my behalf.” A forced grin spread across Faramir’s lips. He paled slightly upon catching sight of the needle held between your fingers but forced it down. “I could mop the floors and he’d claim I painted the whole room.”

You laughed at that, getting a mix of other supplies; a bowl of warm water, a rag, and some bandages too. “I suppose the next time your name is floating around I’ll have to go to the source rather than the source's brother.”

“That would do you well.” Faramir nodded. He watched you get set up for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Is… are stitches still necessary?”

“If one calls them to be, it's not likely to change.” You pulled a stool up and sat beside him. Carefully you nudged his tunic up, revealing the long bandage that ran down his side. “Especially if it was as deep as I heard.”

“They exaggerate…” Faramir grits through his teeth as you remove the bandage. He looks down at the wound and frowns.

The teeth of the orcish blade wasted no time in slicing his side deeply. A few drops of blood splattered out at the loss of the pressure. It would definitely need stitches.

Faramir read the expression on your face and let his head flop back onto the pillow with a heavy sigh. “I’m not fond of needles.” He admitted quietly.

“I’d have to recommend not looking, then.” You gave him a reassuring smile. “I know it’s not an enjoyable process… This is a rather tender spot. Do you want something to bite? I could get some pain numbing medicine…”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Faramir hesitated. Then shook his head. He was a man of Gondor, a Captain, a descendant of Numenor! He could handle some stitches into a rather… tender part of his body.

“Don’t fret about that. Let’s just get this over with.” Faramir insisted.

You just nodded and settled down to work.

Faramir laid anxiously beside you. His fingers twisted together, coated in a light layer of nervous sweat as he eyed the thread you slipped through the needle. He tried his best to stay still as you approached, but as you held the needle tip flush against his skin he flinched.

“Perhaps it would be best if we got you some medicine.” You spoke gently. Though at this a look of horror crossed the man's face. Your frown deepened. “There is no weakness in choosing the easier path.”

He wanted to believe you, he really did. But he couldn’t give in that easily. Boromir wouldn’t. His brother wouldn’t need medicine for something as silly as a little cut.

“I am fine.”

“Then stop moving.”

Faramir fell silent. He gulped and furrowed his fingers into the sheets, then closed his eyes tight.

You began sewing his wound, just beginning the first stitch. After the needle pierced his skin and pulled through the other side, Faramir let out a pathetic whimper of pain. You continued stitching the wound shut. You would gladly stop if he asked but if he was going to play stubborn, so were you.

The pain was excruciating. The needle continued to pierce and tug his raw, tender flesh, sending flashes of pain through Faramir’s body that hurt even stronger than the wound. And it was continuous. Every second of rest was followed by 5 more of pain.

His knuckles were white from how tightly he was gripping the blankets beneath him, teeth gritted as he tried to hold back the majority of his noises. His skin was a ghostly pale shade and he felt like he was either going to be sick or pass out.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and spoke up.

“Stop…”

You stopped immediately, still holding the needle tight but no longer piercing his skin. Your expression softened at the pure agony on his face and you gently tilted his head to the side just in case.

“Let me find some pain medicine.” You murmured and this time he did not fight.

You managed to find some herbs and gave them to him, also giving him a glass of water to swallow it down with. It was only then that you noticed the faint tear streaks down his face. He had one hand clenched over his racing heart as though willing it to slow.

“The medicine will numb the pain and fear.” You assured him gently, just sitting on the edge of the bed now. You didn’t want to continue stitching until he’d relaxed and couldn’t feel it anymore. “I shouldn’t… have to take this.” The paleness of Faramir’s skin was starting to fade but he still looked uneasy. He took a deep, shaky breath and opened his eyes. There was a sincere, desperate look in them, one begging you to never speak of this to anyone. And at the questioning look in your gaze, he lowered his and finally spoke. “I had stitches one other time… as a child. My father wouldn’t let me have any medicine… or anything… He declared I had to “be a real man” and held me down.”

The memory fell bitterly off his tongue and your soft smile turned downwards. You gripped his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I am not your father. That does not and will not happen here.”

Faramir looks at you uncertainly, but at the passion in your eyes he slowly nods and relaxes. The medicine is beginning to kick in, his head starting to grow foggy and quiet down. He weakly reaches and grabs your arm in return. “…I trust you.”

“Good.” You smiled gently at him. “Are you ready for me to continue? I can still get you something to bite if you want.”

Shaking his head, Faramir settled back down and closed his eyes. “No… I think I’ll be alright.”

#whumptober2024 #no.25 #stitches #lotr #fic #x reader #lotr x reader #lotr x y/n #faramir #platonic faramir x reader #whump

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thekinkyleopard · 5 months ago

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Crime Spreeze

An Al, Elex and Perry snz fic

⚠️Content Warning⚠️

Bullying, SicFic, Sexual Harassment, Cussing,

Panic/Anxiety, OCD/Germaphobia, Fluff

Description: Elex has to go on a heist, with his least favorite demons tagging along out of obligation, he wonders how he’s going to get through it especially when he realizes he’s getting sick.

Author’s Notes: 🫣 Don’t look at me!!!!! Im sorry this took longer to get out than promised 😭 I’ve been DEEP in the trenches. My life is a whole mess right now. However, I found the motivation and will to finish this Nonny request! Elex’s first time getting sick in front of people he doesn’t know very well, nor likes 🫣 Hope you enjoy! ~ (this fic also delves deeper into Elex’s experience with his Germaphobia/OCD and could be triggering so I just wanna leave a second mention!) @aller-geez did the cover and owns Perry!

Elex groaned he threw his feet around and he grabbed a pillow, shoveling it over his face screaming with the loudest decibel he could, though muffled significantly by the pillow tightly shoved against his face. He was given a job today, and it had a really, really impressive payout. However, when he saw today who he would have to be meeting up with, and dealing with, he immediately, wanted to back out. Perry. The dude was a psychopath, they’d met a few times through other jobs, and through a certain red headed fuck bringing him around on the occasion he was in town. The green haired man groaned with angst and disdain. He couldn’t sit through a job having to deal with that asshole today.

“Whats wrong, El?” Sven asked walking in mid-tantrum. Ignoring Sven's question, Elex tossed the pillow aside and sat up, running a hand through his disheveled green hair. He knew he couldn't back out of the job now, he’d already said yes, if he backed out, he’d probably get jumped. Taking a deep breath, he finally responded to Sven, "It's Perry. I can't stand that fuckin’ guy, Every time we've crossed paths, it's been a nightmare…" he sighed deeply with irritation laced in every word of his sentence.

Sven raised an eyebrow, concern flickering in his eyes. "You sure you can handle this job with him involved?" his tone a bit apprehensive as he knew just how impatient and explosive his feral partner could be.

Elex nodded grimly, determination hardening his features. "I don't have a choice, The payout is too good to pass up.. I'll just have to keep my guard up and play pretend like we’re best fuckin’ friends," he gagged visibly, but not genuinely. The cat chuckled a bit at his boyfriend’s general demeanor.

As he got up from the bed, Elex began to mentally prepare himself for the inevitable confrontation with Perry. Today was going to be a long day, he could already tell…and there was something….off about the way he felt. His face was slightly hot, and his nose felt peculiarly prickly…stuffed. He went to the bathroom, and splashed a handful of cold water across his face before he got stuck in a whirlwind. ‘Germs…gErMs…DIRTY…’ he heard a low, sickly and gravely voice inside his head as the water hit his face. “Ugggghhh,” he grumbled audibly before getting out his face wash and his anti-bacterial soap. First the badger with determined eyes, washed and scrubbed his hands up to his elbows. Once he had completed that, he decided to brush his teeth, before finally get to soaping up his face. Once he had deemed himself sufficiently clean enough he stepped back and took out a fresh towel, bringing it to his face and gently drying himself where necessary. Making extra sure to care for the spots that hadn’t been properly showered least to not mix himself.

However, he put too much consideration into it, which got him spiraling into more thoughts. ‘Shower…You need to shower…the rest of you…it’ll spread..’ “JEsUs fucking christ,” he hissed behind gritted teeth, now starting to undress but in the process was slamming cabinets and being all around obnoxious about his movements in the bathroom. Sven came walking in.

“Babe, you good?” He asked with a cautious, almost confused tone and a raised teal brow.

“No! This Perry shit has me freaking out…I’m not clean enough and I need to shower…it’s going to make me LATE, and that’s going to cause some sort of smart mouthed, passive aggressive, borderline psychotic shit to come out his big stupid mouth!” the badger exploded in a long tangent that sent the cat back an inch, unexpecting of this sudden display of emotions, but not being unfamiliar in this territory.

“Okay, Okay, breathe…” Sven stepped closer, putting his palms out trying to calm the other who only shook his head in defiance.

“I cant right now, Sven, I have to shower, I have to get clean…can you pleas…snDf..just get me some clean clothes?” the Cheshire narrowed his orange eyes and looked his mate up and down. He was coming down with something. His rampant Phobia would appear whenever the badger had a sinking feeling he was ill or around someone who was ill.

“You’re sick,” the orange and teal haired man crossed his arms over his chest and he shook his head slowly.

“No, I’m not, actually…I’m just…stressed, now go! shoo! clothes! Please!!” he waved the other away, dismissing his comment though knowing it was a pill he’d probably regret not swallowing.

Sven sighed, realizing there was no stopping Elex when he got into one of these states. Reluctantly, he left the bathroom to fetch some fresh clothes for his germophobic partner. As Elex started the water for his shower, the thoughts in his mind continued to torment him. ‘What if he’s right? What if SICK? Germs?? What if germs already inside…’ The hot water cascading over his body did little to calm his racing mind. He did his best as he scrubbed his skin so hard it was almost getting raw. The moment the soap started to sting, Elex blinked his duo colored eyes clear and looked down at his blotchy, reddened mixed skin. “Fuck..” he sighed. “Overdid it..” he let the water caress him for a while longer, trying to settle the racing, impulsive thoughts that continued to plague him to scrub more while his new rashes burned under the temperature of the water.

According to Sven, therapy had been doing him well in their conversations and communication, however much Elex denied. Yet, in this moment he started to see what the cat meant. Normally, in his teen years especially, he’d be in the shower for hours, he’d scrub until his skin bled and developed sores, he would do anything to try and rid himself of the germs. As he has been attending help, and seeking guidance against his fears, he realized in this moment, there was a bit of hope. His sinuses now feeling cleared, or perhaps, numbed, the badger turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing his towel and wrapping it around his waist.

“Hey, left your clothes on the bed if that’s okay I gotta get going to an auction, they want to display my photos,” he said from the doorway, staring his boyfriend down in a caring, nervous way. “You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good, good luck at your thingy,” Sven nodded with a soft, reassuring smile, though the cat still felt wary looking at him. None the less, he chuckled and shook his head.

“Auction,” reminding the badger in a subtle, but gentle way that it was important to him that Elex remembered the things he was saying, not just generally answering to suffice the conversation.

“Right, Auction,” the badger nodded again, his own way of receiving the slight nudge, and responding accordingly, the best way he simply could.

“I love you,” Sven smiled, still keeping his distance knowing a single touch of his finger tip could possibly set the badger a blaze.

“Mhh I love you too, kid,” it was Elex who stepped forward, an leaning down a bit, kissed the cat on his lips gingerly with a smirk on his face. “It’s not your germs I’m scared of, remember?”

“I know…I just worry,” the cat shrugged gently, almost not trying to make too big of a deal out of what he just said.

“I know,” taking note of the other’s body language, Elex replied simply, trying his best as well to, not make his issues, apart of Sven’s day.

“Try to have a good day?” his boyfriend poked, and though Elex felt the need to explode, as if he was going to ever have the chance at a good day he simply swallowed it and nodded again, lips pulled up into a half smile.

“You too, kid,” Sven smiled, genuinely, almost enough to brighten the entire room, the badger’s heart skipped a beat and he cleared his throat, nodding again as he watched Sven start to leave the doorway.

“Alright, I’m heading out,” finally the cat turned on his heels and began toward the door, out to his car and off the property entirely.

“See ya,” the badger turned around now focused again on his current task of getting dressed, noticing the silence in his head he was thankful. The small notes of affection, the working harder to love each other through their issues and the way Sven made him generally feel…calmed him enough to get through the rest of his routine.

~Later that same afternoon~

Elex pulls up to the meet up, leaning nervously against his seat and gripping his wheel so tightly, his knuckles start to turn white. “Come on dillweed where are you?” he sighed with clear frustration, unlike the demon to be late, he started looking through each of his windows and mirrors periodically to keep his eye out. By this point, Perry was 5 minutes late, and Elex fucking hated that, but was unable to really keep track of the time as his face started to burn hotter. It had been a few hours since he showered, the comforting feeling from the steam had long left him of peace and he was now only painfully aware that he was in fact, coming down with something. “SNdF…Shit,” he fumbled through his car for some tissues, or fast food napkins, anything. He couldn’t find anything but a tshirt, having cleaned his car out a couple days ago. He sighed wanting desperately to wipe his nose but it couldn’t be on this. ‘GeRMS! No! Dirty shirt! No! Dirty!’

The badger growls loudly wishing he could just slam his head into the steering wheel, but that would probably only intensify the current, pressure already building inside his skull. “Fucking A dude you look like shit,” he heard a familiar voice outside his window as Elex gripped the sides of his temples. Perry.

“I’m fine…just…a headache is all..SNDDFfF..” he snuffled loudly, trying to mask the need to wipe his nose by over compensating with an inhale. Perry opened the passenger door to the car with a chuckle already sensing his deceit, before a familiar, unwanted presence made itself known.

“I heard the familiar sound of a cold sniffle, is that an illness I hear, El?” Alistar slid into the back seat like the uninvited piece of shit he was. Leaning in between the two front seats to examine and invade Elex’s space.

“NUH UH, The fuck is he doing here?” the badger leaned back to try and create space between him and Al, narrowing his eyes already engulfed with rage.

“He’s apart of the mission, dear buddy, relaaaaax, it’s fine,” Perry waved his hand nonchalantly, slipping into the passenger seat and closing the door. “He can get us past all the guards without any energy exerted on our part!” the two demons snickered at each other in unison.

“And what the fuck does he get out of it?” the green haired man scoffed with agitation, borderline disbelief.

“Your COMPANY Els! Your company, you know, my pet is quite the rival to yours, I think we could make that work to our benefit ya know..?? “ Alistar turned his head innocently, it was as if he was trying to make himself a bit more digestible.

“You were hoping I’d help you manipulate our boyfriends?” the badger narrowed his eyes even further, his brows falling into a scowl.

“Boyfriend? The fuck? No no, demon,” Al points to himself with loose, blackened fingers. “Don’t do ‘boy friends’,” He emphasized with air quotes he’d seen done on tv “but yes, I was hoping I could persuade you into an agreement…” he smiled sweetly after his sentence, masking the deviousness behind his request.

“I’m not doing any deals with you, devil,” Elex spat turning his head to avoid eye contact, his nose tingling, itching insistently but, he wouldn’t break. Not in front of these two.

“Maybe not noooowww…but later, presumably…when it’s convenient to you, the offer is there,” wiggling his red eyebrows in a mischievous yet playful manner.

“Alright princesses are we done with our crumpets and tea? I’m admittedly a bit late, due to picking up this cheeky fuck, but we do have a deadline,” the electrician reminded them, Elex rolling his eyes and started the vehicle.

“Fine, Whatever, lets get this over with, where are we going?” he grumbled starting to drive away from the meet up spot they all congregated at, his head pounding insistently making it almost harder to focus on the road ahead.

“Just follow my directions, Els,” Perry chirped from the passenger seat, shifting in his spot as he reached for the car radio to tune the music to a volume that was just right. Right after, he promptly placed his feet up on the dash and leaned back on his hands behind his head. Elex begrudgingly complied, trying to avoid freaking out about the man’s dirty shoes on his dash, his mind churning with a mix of annoyance and the persistent discomfort of his worsening cold. Twitching, and rolling his nose in sad attempts at calming the forbidden itch he refused to scratch.

As they drove towards their destination, the tension in the car was palpable. Alistar, sitting in the back, seemed to be relishing in Elex's obvious discomfort, occasionally making snide remarks that only served to irritate the badger further. “Can he even see the road with those welling eyes?” The red eyed demon teased. Elex gritted his teeth and focused on the directions being loosely given, determined not to let Al get under his skin. Ignoring his advances and keeping his eyes set forward. Alistar feeling slightly disappointed in the lack of response. Not nearly as fun as the wolf.

After what felt like an eternity of twists and turns through unfamiliar streets, Perry finally directed Elex to pull over near a nondescript building. “This is it,” Perry announced cheerfully, unbuckling his seatbelt and turning to face Elex. “I figured we could just walk up through the front? Ya know? Since Al can just tell them we're supposed to be here,” the electrician shrugged, sparking his fingers with a grin. “And if that doesn’t work…been awhile since I’ve had a meal..” Elex rolled his eyes and patted his hands across the air.

“Alright, Alright..We,” he then paused looking the man over, up and down with furrowed brows. “Meal?” he had assumed kill them, sure, that was whatever, it’s own monster, but did this man just say meal?

“Yeah, I consume souls, duh, it’s just easier to not have to…” he yawned almost as if he was bored of having to explain this seemingly, to him, minor detail.

“I’d prefer he didn’t consume them, for personal reasons, mainly why I signed up,” Al chimed in from behind them with a raised index finger as they all started to shuffle outside of the car.

“Secrets are healthy,” the badger shook his head, pinching his aching bridge.

“Are they secrets, Elex, or are they boundaries?” Perry said thoughtfully between them, before shooting the man a wink.

“Jesus christ…” shuffling his hands in his pockets, the badger began to walk at a faster pace to try and get to the entrance ahead of them before he literally exploded in every sense and shape of the word. His nostrils flaring as he flexed them with the hopes it would cease their discomfort. It didnt.

“What’s my uncle got to do with this?” Al turned his head curiously to look over at Perry who shrugged once.

“OH my g-..You know what, lets just fucking go get this over with…” Elex grumbled still being able to hear them from behind him as they all seemingly approached in the same relative time span.

“Halt, what’s your business here?” the guard asks, stepping in direct center of the entrance way to block them out. Elex turns to the red head, assuming he will take the lead, and Alistar simply clears his throat, steps forward and closes his eyes. “Well?” The guard asks again with impatience. Once the demon’s eyes reopen, they’re completely black and he smirks.

“You’re just gonna let us in buddy, because you know deep down, we need to be here,” Perry already behind him, hovering, practically salivating on top of him, the air slowly starting to feel suffocating. Elex shuddered, stepping further away, skeeved out by the demon’s hunger. The guard, and the two others behind him, both went stiff, nodding and stepping aside for the men to enter. “Oh and I’mma…” Al plucking the badge off the man he then attached it to his own studded belt, playing with the pully mechanism cheerfully. “Need this, thanks…Heh..fun,” the three of them strolled in, and as the demons wandered more ahead, having a key, Elex found himself trailing behind.

He sighed deeply, feeling a sudden chill creep up his spine. It was a subtle sensation at first, just a slight tingle in the back of his throat, a faint shiver running down his arms. Elex shook it off, “Not now…” he grumbled, attributing it weakness. But as they delved deeper into the grandiose building, his symptoms began to intensify. A low-grade fever seemed to blanket him, causing beads of sweat to form on his forehead despite the cool air inside. His throat felt scratchy and dry with every breath he took, a harsh cough threatening to escape his lips. Elex clenched his jaw, refusing to give in to weakness in front of his companions, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his temple.

The pressure behind his eyes throbbed with a dull ache, and his limbs felt heavy, as if weights were tied to them. The corridor stretched endlessly before him, the dimly lit walls seeming to close in on him with each step he took. Perry's voice echoed in the distance “I think it’s up ahead,” at this point everything started to sound like it was under water.

“Oooh~ I havent seen this relic in person only in father’s books…” Alistar muttered excitedly, poking his elbow into the other. Perry snickered and crossed his eyes.

“I’Ve oNlY sEeN iT iN fAtHeR’s BoOkS…” the man teased, Alistar furrowing his brows and jabbing the other with a shoulder check.

“Fuck off, dick shit,” the red head rolled his ruby eyes and huffed through his nose, nudging him one last time.

“Look how easy you get ruffled, almost as easy as Elex,” Perry continued to poke and tease at his two partners in crime, the both of them flat faced as they failed to find the humor in his antics. “Oh come on, sour pusses! Take a joke, fuck,” rolling his mischievous eyes the electrician spotted a surge of power, lining up right under the relic they were sent to grab.

“Is this the thing we need to bring back to Strouse?” Elex asked slowly, as if he was fighting against a powerful storm brewing inside him. In general, everything he did was seemingly slower, walking, talking, looking between the two of them. Alistar narrowed his eyes and observed the badger’s sluggish demeanor and clocked the rising crown of sweat that shown under the lights, and under the cracks in El’s green bangs. He grinned, though, Elex was mostly looking at Perry now, the demon was excited, he knew there was no way this dude could escape the explosion.

“Yup! I’ll disengage the security system for the plate its sitting on so you can just grab it, It’s going to be super bright in here for a moment, just a heads up,” a loose chuckle left his lips as he raised his hands and angled them in the direction of the relic’s plate.

A surge of power crackled through Perry's fingertips, his eyes glowing with an electric intensity as he channeled the current towards the security system. With a swift movement of his hands and a bolt of lightning, the system shut down abruptly, causing the room to be enveloped in a blindingly bright light that seemed to sear through Elex's very core.

Elex's vision swam in a sea of white, his whole body trembling as if struck by the bolt himself. The intense brightness was unbearable, each ray stabbing into his eyes like hot needles. His skin prickled with a surge of discomfort, every nerve ending on fire with overwhelming sensation. A strangled cry escaped his lips as he staggered backward, his body convulsing with the uncontrollable urges he’d be suppressing finally ripping through him. He sneezed and it came flying out of him with speckles of spit misting about in front of him. “H’UHhTSCHhiew! hh’ieXSHHH!”

Meanwhile, Alistar watched the spectacle unfold with a mixture of twisted joy and dark lust gleaming in his eyes. The sight of Elex writhing in agony under the assault of Perry’s simple display, had folded the badger quicker than a broken lawn chair. He let out a loud, sinister laugh. “Fuck yeah!” he cheered, stepping closer to hopefully be casualty to the onslaught of spittle that was flying outward.

"Turn around, you fucking pervert!" Elex's voice erupted amidst his sneezes and shivers, the words laced with a mix of fury and discomfort. His body continued to quake as he struggled to regain control, his chest heaving with each labored breath. “Hh’UMFShhiew! h’UShh’iew! etUSCHO!” they just kept coming, assaulting his means of seeming intimidating. The chills that wracked him began to penetrate deep into his bones, sending waves of icy agony through his veins. Alistar, remained steadfast in his position, his gaze fixed on Elex with a twisted grin playing on his lips.

The relentless brightness of the room only served to intensify Elex's misery, he couldn’t be bothered to fight off the red haired perv when every nerve in his body was screaming in protest. He felt utterly exposed, not just physically but also emotionally, as if Alistar's watchful eyes were stripping away the very layers of his ego. Perry, unfazed by the unfolding chaos, moved with practiced ease to secure the relic they had come for since El was a bit busy. His movements fluid and precise against the backdrop of Elex's suffering. “I swear to god Al…if you do- if you don-…” Al raised a red, entertained brow, a shit eating grin stuck on his face while the badger could hardly rip the sentence from his own mouth without an onslaught. “hdt’USSSCHHHIEWW! h’UTSChhiew!”

Alistar leaned in closer to Elex, his breath hot against the badger's ear as he continued to revel in the chaos that was caused. "Having a bit of a rough time there, aren't you, Elex?" he taunted, his voice dripping with malice and amusement. Elex's fists clenched at his sides, the urge to punch the demon in the face growing stronger with each passing moment. But before he could act on his impulses, a sudden clearing of the throat broke through the tension-filled air.

Perry stood there, the relic safely in his hands, his expression neutral yet commanding. His gaze shifted from Alistar to Elex, a silent reminder of their mission and the importance of focusing on the task at hand. “Ladies, are we quite done bickering?” he clicked his tongue like a disappointed mother. The blinding light began to dim, gradually easing the intensity of Elex's discomfort as the security system powered down completely.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Elex shot one last glare at Alistar before turning back to the electrician. “Leds jud go so I can go do bed, SnDdf…h'Ushh'iew!” Covering his mouth with the crook of his elbow this time to not give a certain someone any more of a free show. Al pouted and rolled his eyes.

Elex felt a wave of frustration and humiliation wash over him as he stumbled forward, his body still trembling from the aftershocks of his sneezing fit. Alistar's mocking laughter echoed in his ears, taunting him with every step he took. ‘Smug fucking bastard…’ he cursed internally, despite the beating drums inside his head, and his entire body threatening to shut down, he followed behind the two demons toward the way they came in.

As they made their way back to the car, Elex's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He couldn't shake off the feeling of being vulnerable in front of these near-strangers, his sickness exposing a side of himself he preferred to keep hidden. Alistar's depraved presence felt like a constant weight on his shoulders, a reminder of his own powerlessness in the face of the demon's relentless teasing.

“Man, you make the cutest little scrunched up faces when your popping your lid, you know that Els?” The red head prodded at the other, the badger’s face getting increasingly redder as it continued. “The way your spit just came FLYING out at me? Cinematic,”

“Yeah it really was a shock to see how much came out of you when those lights were set off,” the two of them laughed in unison. Elex's cheeks burned with a mixture of embarrassment and rage at the demons' mocking words. Simply too worn to just start wailing on them. He gritted his teeth, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a verbal reaction. The sun was starting to go down, and the soft hue of the setting orb cast down on their bodies as they shuffled by, the guards unphased.

Once inside the vehicle, Elex slumped into the driver’s seat staring blankly out the windshield ahead, feeling drained both physically and emotionally. The demons continued their banter, their voices fading into a distant buzz as exhaustion pulled at Elex's eyelids. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the memories of his horrible experience, but they haunted him like relentless ghosts that tickled his ear drums, buzzing around him like an obnoxious fly that just wouldnt die.

“No but in all seriousness Sneezy Mgee, you good to drive?” Perry asked him, leaning in, snuffling his nose almost in a cocky manner, this still seemed too much like humiliation to keep taking it like this.

“Yeah, asshole, I’m fine,” Elex shoved the other by placing his palm on the demon’s forehead and shoveling him back a few inches, forceful, clearly a stick up his ass. Elex's senses were heightened as he sat back in the driver's seat, trying to shake off the remnants of embarrassment that clung to him like a heavy cloak. The warmth of the leather against his back felt comforting yet suffocating at the same time, mirroring the conflict swirling inside him. Perry's doubt hung in the air like a thick fog, challenging Elex's pride and stirring a fire within him.

“Alright, alright, shit, someone’s in a mood,” lifting his hands defensively before getting comfortable in his seat again.

As he gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning colors with the pressure, Elex could feel his control slipping away like grains of sand through his fingers. His jaw clenched with a newfound resolve, a fierce glint in his dual colored eyes that even surprised himself. "I'm more than okay to drive," he declared, his voice steady and unwavering.

Perry raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh really? Well, prove it then," he challenged, crossing his arms in anticipation of Elex's response.

Without hesitation, Elex started the vehicle and began driving at a speed that was almost concerning. “Alriiiiiiiight! That’s what Im talking about! Lets get fucking wreckless!” Alistar cheered throwing his fists up and shaking the shoulders of each car seat ahead of him.

Elex's foot pressed harder on the accelerator, the engine roaring with power as the landscape outside blurred into streaks of color. The wind whipped through the open windows, tousling their hair and filling the car with an exhilarating sense of freedom. Perry whooped with excitement, his laughter mingling with the rush of air, but with wind came dust, with dust came, problems. Elex could feel it welling up in his eyes, tears forming and his nose burning with a need to release. He sniffled once, twice, and tried his best to hold it back. If he sneezed, he would close his eyes, and he couldnt afford that whilst driving 90 mph.

Alistar clung to the back of Elex's seat, his eyes glinting with mischief as he goaded Elex on. "Faster, faster, let's see what this baby can really do!" His voice rose above the chaos of the wind and engine, egging Elex to push the limits.

El's heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of fear and adrenaline surging through his veins, but the pressure, the sheer build up happening behind his sinuses was proving to only get worst the faster he drove. Perry turned over to look at the badger and started to notice the clench of the other’s jaw and the tears falling loosely down the sides of his squinted eyes that Elex was in a losing battle with his illness. “Dont you fuckin sneeze, youll kill us all, dont fuckin sneeze,” he said almost seriously, pointing his index finger at him accusingly, but there was a smirk spread across his lips. He was winning.

Elex's knuckles turned white as he gripped the wheel with his full capacity strength, a shock it didnt rip the thing clean off, the internal battle raging within him reaching a crescendo. The wind whipped past them, carrying with it those same allergens that continued to irritate his senses. His breaths came in short, shallow gasps as he fought against the inevitable urge to sneeze, his eyes now watering so badly, he could hardly make out the road anymore anyway.

Alistar cackled with a devious almost unrecognizable sound, his eyes dancing with mischief as he sensed Elex's struggle. "Come on, Elex, let it out! Show us what you're made of!" he taunted, his voice barely audible over the roar of the wind and engine.

“Nahhh, he’s gotta hold it back til we get to the spot, don’t fuck this up now, bro,” snickering mischievously which only caused the badger’s blood to boil, but Elex was at his limit, the battle within him reaching its breaking point. With a final, valiant effort to hold it back, a sudden jolt from a rough patch in the road sent Elex over the edge. His body convulsed involuntarily as he let out a thunderous sneeze that shook the car, causing Alistar and Perry to yelp in surprise. “HH’IEXSHIEW! EHH’tSHIEW!” they flew out of him, his hands involuntarily swerving the vehicle back and forth, a spray of spit hitting the windshield and blocking his line of sight. “Fu-..etUSHCHHOO!” the two demons grabbed onto the handles above them, bracing themselves for possible impact as the badger tried to regain his control in between his fit. “Hh’uhSSCHHHIIIIEWW!" h’USHhi’iew!”

The world seemed to slow down as Elex's eyes squeezed shut, tears streaming down his cheeks as the force of the sneeze overwhelmed him. In that split second of vulnerability, the car swerved off course now, tires screeching as they struggled for traction on the bumpy road. Perry's laughter turned into a heinous cackle, even at this point now, Alistar wasn’t even having fun. What the fuck was wrong with this guy?

Eventually after seconds of chaos, which felt like hours, settled and the badger opened his eyes quickly to regain control of the car, his nose and eyes leaking profusely. The car skidded to a stop on the side of the road, kicking up a cloud of dust in its wake. Elex sat there, panting heavily, his hands still gripping the wheel tightly as he tried to catch his breath. Alistar for once, actually stunned silent, unable to even enjoy what just happened with the slight fear of being shipped back to hell. The red head patted his body with his palms to make sure he was in fact, still alive. “Phew…That was fuckin close,” he chuckled a bit nervously looking over at his friend, the instigator of the almost tragic incident.

Elex wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, feeling a mix of relief and exhaustion wash over him. He turned to look at the demon, his expression a mix of defiance and irritation. "Are you satisfied now?" he asked hoarsely, his voice tinged with both anger and resignation.

Perry’s grin spread almost so widely across his face youd swore it wrapped around his entire head. “That was fucking HILARIOUS,” he broke into a psychotic laugh that had both the other two men quickly exchange glances. “Oh man, you should have seen the panic on your fuckin’ faces…Oh shit…that’s fucking classic,”

“You know what dick for brains, I don’t even give a flying fuck about the pay out anymore, keep it, get out of my fucking car,” the green haired man finally having enough hissed while unlocking the door and reaching over Perry to push it open and promptly began shoveling him out.

“Hey hey hey now!” Perry protested, fighting against the other’s actions as he gripped the handle above him. “Now that’s hardly fair, you basically didn’t have to do shit for this mission besides come with, drive and put up with us for a bit, dont you wanna come claim your prize at least? You can’t end it like this now Els…” using that snake like tone of his that got most people to fall for his conniving bullshit.

“No, get, the fuck…OUT, you have five seconds or I’m gonna start swingin’,” it was a bluff of course, not that Elex couldn’t handle a fight between the two of them, though admittedly it wouldnt go well against the electrician, he wasn’t scared to use physical violence. It was simply the sheer weight of his illness already on his shoulders making it impossible to find any strength in his core.

“Come on now Els…don’t be like that,” Perry pouted, shooting a quick glance in the red head’s direction he was silently asking for him to join in on the convincing part of this strategy. Alistar watched the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and apprehension. He knew that Elex was not one to be trifled with, especially when he was already on the edge. Yet, Perry undeterred still looked to Al, a confident smirk playing on his lips as he tried to negotiate his way back into the car.

"Look, Elex, we had some fun, right? A little sneeze never hurt anyone," Alistar coaxed, inching closer in between the seats as if testing Elex's resolve.

"Besides, you know you want your cut of the job. We make a good team,” Perry cut in with a cheeky wink of his multi-colored eye.

Elex narrowed his eyes at the demon, his expression unreadable as he weighed his options. After a moment of tense silence, he let out a heavy sigh and relented, he HAD already made it this fair, thusly allowing Perry to settle back into the car. But his gaze held a warning that the electric wielder could not mistake.

"Fine," Elex muttered through gritted teeth, his hands returning to start the car back up and get back on the road. They drove in pure silence, minus the off sniffle or four from the badger as his fever began to run higher and his body throbbed with the need to be in bed. His brain screamed at him, every surface unclean, every breath was poison and fighting between the two was exhausting him past his limits.

Eventually, they pulled up to the drop off spot, and Elex screeched the car to a stop, deadpanning over to Perry as he spoke slow enough to not cause his throbbing head to ache anymore but steady enough to be understood. “Go in, drop it off, pick up the money, bring me my half, then uber the fuck home, got it?”

“Oooo so spicy, yeah yeah,” The electrician chuckled through his nose before stepping out of the vehicle, Alistar falling close behind.

“Think of me when you sneeze tonight, handsome,” the demon winked back at the green haired man. “And dont forget to hit my line if you wanna link up for that thing I mentioned earlier,” there was a curious sparkle behind the red head’s eyes, and it peaked Elex’s curiosity yet at the same time, annoyed him to no end.

“Ooooooouuuuut!” he shouted at the two of them who snickered in return as they saw themselves out and toward the entrance of the building. As the car door closed with a heavy thud, Elex was left alone in the vehicle. The silence enveloped him like a thick fog, amplifying the ache in his body and the persistent whispers in his mind. The voices seemed to grow louder, more insistent, “DIRTY….CONSUMED WITH GERMS…UNCLEAN! MUST WASH!”

His hands gripped his own thighs as he tried to get a grip on reality, his skin underneath sure to have bruises from the pressure. His breath came in short, ragged gasps as the panic began to set in. Images of germs crawling all over his skin flashed before his eyes, sending shivers down his spine. He could almost feel them, invisible yet suffocatingly real.

In a moment of desperation, Elex fumbled for his phone and dialed Sven's number. The line rang once, twice, before finally connecting.

"Sven," Elex's voice was hoarse, filled with a mix of fear and urgency. "I need you to come get me…please…” he couldnt explain further, he didnt want to break down in a fit of tears incase the other two men came back in the midst of it.

“Im on my way,” without any more words needing to be exchanged, the two hung up and Elex pushed his head back against the seat to try and center himself but the more he did, the louder his thoughts got and he couldnt remember the last time it was this bad.

Elex honestly also couldn't remember the last time he had felt this weak, sick, and anxious. The air conditioning felt like ice against his flushed skin, his pulse pounded in his ears like a drum, and his thoughts were racing. He could hear the soft sound of his own breaths, heavy and ragged with the effort of each inhale a few light stutters now and again to avoid another fit. With sweat pouring down his body, he wiped his brow with a trembling hand, praying Sven would arrive quickly.

As the car shook with every vibration of an approaching vehicle, Elex gripped the phone, trying to hold onto his sanity. In the distance, he could hear the faint hum of the two demons chattering as they approached the vehicle and the badger gained enough strength to roll down the passenger window, and lock the doors for extra precaution. Perry approached and tossed the large bundle of cash in the seat. “Here ya are bud,”

“Thanks,” Elex began to slowly roll the window back up before Perry stopped it with his hand.

“Wait seriously, no ride back?” the dragon looked a tad hurt by this, thinking surely the success of the mission would cheer the sickly badger up.

“No, my boyfriend’s coming to drive the car back, I feel like dog shit…walk, uber, fly, I dont give two flying fucks in the sky what you do, but Im not doing it,” choosing to continue rolling up the window despite Perry’s hand now, making the demon choose between crushing his own hand or giving up, he slid his fingers out of the way causing Elex to smirk a bit. The purple and green haired man scoffed, rolled his multi colored eyes, turned around and said something muffled to the red head behind him. The badger didnt care, he did what he needed to do, got the mark, got the money, now he just wanted Sven.

Gathering all his remaining strength, Elex dialed Sven's number once more. "Sven, it's me. Hurry," he whispered hoarsely, the desperation in his voice barely audible. With each passing minute, Elex's condition worsened. He snuffled, a wet and full sound that echoed the silent car. He groaned, but it was cut by a stuttering breath, he couldn’t resist it, his nose scrunched and his eye lids squeezed together. Without a passing moment the badger sneezed again, into the palms of his hands. “hdt’USSCHHIEWW!!! H'uSSHhhiew!” The vehicle shook on its suspension as the explosion racked the badger’s whole body. Particles of spit painting the flesh of his hands.

Elex groaned, letting his head fall back as he tried to collect himself. He sniffled, loudly, trying desperately hard to clear his full, swollen and reddened nose. “Why meeee?” He rolled his eyes back, just trying to center his breathing. The car trembled as he sat there, his heart pounding in his chest and his lungs straining for every breath. Sweat dripped down his face, stinging his eyes as he wiped them away. His head pounding like war drums while he focused his vision down at his hands. Trying to just stay present in the moment but once he looked down at his skin all he could see were the germs. Everywhere. The wet spots began to shift and transform. Crawling over his flesh and seeping into his pores. “Fuckin..STOP!” smacking his hands around, itching his arms now his whole body proceeded to tremble with the heebie jeebies. “UNCLEAN UNCLEAN UNCLEAN UNCLEAN,” the involuntary voices in his head began to chant, loudly, unescapable.

Finally, the distant rumble of an approaching vehicle grew louder, despite the slight relief it brought the badger, he still had to clap his hands over his ears. Trying what he could to find a semblance of rest from the torment. Sven. As soon as the engine cut off, he stumbled out of the car and made his way towards the driver's side window, taping the glass to get Elex’s attention.

"Elex?" Sven's voice was filled with concern as he saw the state his boyfriend was in. "What's wrong? What happened?” the badger slowly removed a hand from his head long enough to open the car door and rush out of the vehicle, wrapping his arms tightly around Sven’s torso and burying his face in his teal and orange locks, smelling deeply to receive a semblance of comfort. Sven immediately returned the embrace, holding tightly to his lover as his brows turned down in heavy concern. “Els?”

“Im sick…SNDdFf..and it’s…it’s bad..inside…” he couldnt make sense of any sentence he tried to form but he did his best between fighting the loudness inside his skull and seeking comfort in the body wrapped around him, silent tears starting to slip down his scarred cheeks. The cat began to run his fingers gently through the badger’s slightly dampened locks.

“Shhh…it’s okay, I’ll get us home,” Sven guided Elex to the passenger seat and helped him buckle up before rushing around to the driver's side. As they sped away from the scene, Elex kept his eyes closed, trying to block out the overwhelming sensations assaulting him. Sven drove with a sense of urgency, glancing over at Elex every few moments with worry etched into his features. He reached his hand out to lace his fingers between that of the other’s shaking ones.

Once they arrived home, Sven gently led Elex inside and settled him on the couch, fetching a cool washcloth and a glass of water. Elex clutched the washcloth to his forehead, his breathing slowly starting to even out as Sven sat beside him, offering a comforting presence, rubbing his back gently with the flattened palm of his hand.

"It's going to be okay, El," Sven murmured, his voice a soothing balm to Elex's frayed nerves. "Just focus on your breathing, in and out. I'm here with you, you’re okay, nothing is going to happen to you, okay?” slowly the voices began to soften, and started to be drowned out by that of the cat’s gentle one. The badger was finally beginning to feel the ease of his anxiety melt away, he took a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth and finally opened his tear filled eyes to look over at his boyfriend.

“Thank you…” he spoke barely above a whisper. Sven smiled softly at Elex’s downtrodden face, his eyes filled with compassion and relief.

"I'll always be here for you, no matter what. You're safe with me," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Elex's clammy forehead. The badger leaned into the touch, feeling the warmth and comfort that only Sven could bring him in those moments of overwhelming anxiety. He knew he was lucky to have someone so patient yet strong by his side, despite what a pain in the ass he could be as a person. He was grateful he had someone who understood his struggles and stood by him despite his egregious attitude.

As the night wore on, Sven stayed close to Elex, never once leaving his side. Showering him, getting him in bed, bringing him meds, soup, water the whole nine. There wasnt a care taking task left unmarked as the cat waited on his lover hand and foot while the badger lay practically comatose and leaking from his nose. Sven sat by the sickly man on the other side of the bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light over the room. The night had deepened, and a hush had settled over the house. Elex's breathing had steadied, his fever breaking as his body finally succumbed to much-needed rest. Sven watched over him with a tenderness until he too could no longer fight the sleep that over took him, his arms wrapping around the other protectively.

The End

Authors Notes: I’m sorry there’s no smut 🫣 Don’t shoot! 🫣 but it was still fun, funny, sneezy and fluffy. 🥰🫶🏻 hope you guys enjoyed! I love feedback as well! Thanks for putting up with the dry spells til I get the chance to feed you all. 😂

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