#Ofc it might fall through the cracks and they may not give it to me but

[stunie]

I CAME RUNNING WHEN I SAW ALL THE MATCHUPS ON MY DASH i hope you don’t mind me trying to squeeze myself in in time :,)

TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS

- my day has been a little rough if i’m being honest, i got hit with a lot of things that could’ve been better (i’m telling myself that it could have been a whole lot worse lol) but i’m okay dw!!! :)

- something fun though is that i watched a show recently with one of my best friends and it was so fun!! the show is a live adaptation of a book we both love (she got me into it) and we were cracking up making fun of how they did it (no malice ofc but just a little smidge of judgment) i also got to see my bf twice this week which was really nice :3 (we are ldr)

- i fear i can’t say any of my favs because i will most def reveal who i am lol but i’ll talk a little about why i like them…?

- my signature is that i always without fail somehow fall for the rich ones. and part of me wants to say that it’s not because of their money that i like them (but it may be partially why i stay…) but is it my fault that all the rich ones are also my type :,) <- i say this delusionally

- jokes aside, i really enjoy the ones who would be infatuated literally full on obsessed with me. i think it’s because im the other part of the spectrum of immigrant eldest daughter (i want to be coddled and cared for and have someone who will take responsibilities off of my shoulders)

- i would describe myself as an extroverted introvert! i can do the social setting very well, but i get exhausted very quickly and would def pull on the hem of my fav’s shirt whisper-asking if we can early (which btw if he doesn’t take the blame himself… is he really even my fav? 🤨)

- my fav love languages are physical touch and acts of service (for both giving and receiving, though i give more acts of service and like to receive more physical touch!) and i think my favs would cater to this a lot! though with them being rich and all, gift giving might be in there too lol

- i think i’m really toeing the line here but i’m very attracted to voices. like it’s the second thing i notice about someone usually (first being their eyes) and if i don’t like someone’s voice, it also usually means i won’t like them a lot too (so all of my favs have really really attractive voices…)

- this might be redundant but i love the tropes that are like villain or morally gray coded, grumpy x sunshine, doberman/black cat x orange cat, etc

- i’d like to ask for a random one from either wb, hq, or bllk for the matchup!! if that’s possible :,) if not, from bllk would be fun :)

hi nonnie aaaaa i loved reading through this !! I LOVE GRUMPY X SUNSHINE AS A TROPE lemme not elaborate or we’ll be here forever. OKAY. endo popped up pretty fast when you said infatuated but it swapped to …

REO !!!! i didn’t match you with reo because he’s rich 😭 i pinkie promise it’s a coincidence. THE REASON WHY. coddled and cared for. mhm mhm …. thinking about him giving nagi piggyback rides and such except it’s with you. it’s literally perfect. your shoelace untied ? he’s tying it for you > < also will not let you step anywhere near a puddle when it’s raining. omg. you can zone out if you’re with him, he’s got you. the tugging the shirt as a cue to leave solidified it my choice btw !!! he knows you so well, one tiny tug and a look at the face you’re giving him and that’s all he needs. gives you a knowing little smile and comes up with an excuse on the spot (the blame does NOT end up on you btw).

[depressedhatakekakashi]

In teacher au, going from a pretentious private school to a run down public school must be quite the pay decrease to Kakashi. Both in terms of salary and budget for his classroom/ classes.

Does he struggle with the new budget? Or bring up a stink seeing the wage decrease from kids who can afford mustangs, and whom everyone owns at least one horse, to a school where some kids struggle to afford food and they don't have enough money to fund the band room? Does he get his own rich dad involved like "Hey dad. Can you buy me some pencils?"

Just thinking about the general wage gap Kakashi might have to deal with.

Oh Kakashi definitly has issues, but he doesn’t blame the school or the people working at it (like the principle) because he has learned iver the years how the school system works and it’s part of why he left

Kids who weren’t ‘as well off’ or got into that presigious school on scholarships or aid programs were always looked down on and he hated it. Him and maybe one or two other teachers actually cared about them, but the principle cared about the families that supported the school fanancially and let the others fall through the cracks

So no matter how hard Kakashi and those other teachers may have tried, there was no guarantee in seeing those kids passed

And Kakashi definitly got a few ‘change their grade so they pass. Their family is very rich’ and it made his skin crawl because so many other kids, including other rich kids, were working their butts off to pass yet he was expected to give special favour to these ones cuz their parents were willing to toss money at the problem.

So Kakashi’s got issues, but they’re issues he holds more with the prestigious school.

Things i think he’d do for his school is organizing book donations for the library (libraries are super important to him), asking his dad to help him buy supplies for his classroom (and maybe throw in a bit if extra money for other people’s classrooms that no one has to know where it came from. He just gives the money to Tsunade and she hands it out), organizing other sorts of fundraisers with Rin and Gai’s help (and other teachers ofc but these are the main ones he gets help from)

I think, given what we know of Canon Kakashi and how he helps people even when they can’t pay him, he’d want to do a lot for the school and might even start his first year by doing too much and making himself sick by overworking himself

[marinehero-a]

" master garp ? " light of waning dusksuns drawing saintly halo 'pon holy commander's head, reminder oh so tragic of divine ichor that never would be erased from its true identity even whilst tainted in human reds, no matter how much he'd try to pass among them unnoticed or how so ardently he'd wish to truly experience all that made joy and anger and sadness as wholefully instead of always observing as if encased in glass, unable to reach forth —but he'd remain behind greatest hero of all marines, hesitating in his own oh so familiar silence that easily would kneel before him at each command, for even former dragon of the heavenly gates could perceive how tense and heavy air itself tethered aghast his own throat, as if ready to destroy every wall. " what are you doing out here by yourself? " ( from roci ofc )

ლ.    “ Trying to stop myself from killing you old man, ”   the reply slipped out with cutting brightness. His face contorted into a sharp grin, dripping with cyanide, though he only spared the other man a glance before returning his glaring gaze towards the sea. White-knuckled grip digging into the stone wall he stood by, deep cracks running in veins throughout it.

     With difficulty, he did his best to steady his breathing. To reign in his temper and cull his rage, lest he found himself tearing down Marineford brick by brick. Or, worse, he crumbled first. For he was the hero, and heroes were not allowed to fall.

     Even if he were to slip, even if he were to allow himself failure, Rocinante was among the last who he’d let see such a loss of control. Not for Sengoku’s sake, may the Sea damn him, but because the brat was one of the few innocent men caught in the upcoming storm. Garp wouldn’t allow him to get burned out of the quarrels he held with others.

“ You might’ve heard that the planning for the execution of Whitebeard’s First Division commander is nearly complete, ”   voice still tight, grin feeling plastered on his face, carefully avoiding Rocinante’s face in favor of staring down at his weathered hands. They were capable of leveling an island, yet he’d never felt them so weary — so weak — before,   “ Fleet Admiral Sengoku, ”   the title spat out in clipped tone with as much respect as one might deign to the barnacles on a ship’s hull,   “ Thought to only give me the news of the whole situation now. ”

     Ace. They had Ace, and worse off, they knew. The Elders knew, and they were willing to go to war with the current king of the sea over it. He still couldn't figure out how the Elders had learned. Had Sengoku told them ?  He couldn’t believe it, not when it’d gone unspoken for years. A silent agreement. A silent promise. But why else would Sengoku keep the damn news of Ace's capture from him until it was far too late to pull any strings ?  No. There had to be something. Something he could do that wouldn't be betrayal. Some kind of loophole, some kind of —

     He bit down on his lip and fought against the waves of rage and panic clogging his chest. Dammit all, he'd never been the one for complicated plans, that had always been Sengoku and Tsuru's role, and now his heart stood against them and he didn't know what to do. His duty, or the ones he loved ?  A glance back towards Rocinante brought a silent huff of laughter fall past his lips, fleeting and distant envy towards the brat knocking him out of his spiral of uncertainty. With another deep breath, he forced himself to let go of the tension in his body with easier laughter.

“ Bwahaha !  But my role's none of your concern, brat, ”   the cheer in his voice lighter now, his smile more sincere. A mask well worn in by age and experience, closer to a second skin than anything false. There’d be time to figure things out later  ( when ? )  when there was no company to see him shout.

“ You ought to be more worried about yourself. I doubt your superior — ”   facade nearly cracking, tremors of bitter betrayal  ( but who betrayed who first ? )  slipping through before he could quite catch it, though he carried on as if he hadn’t noticed,   “ — Will have you anywhere near the upcoming war, if he hasn’t already talked to you about it. Your brother’s going to be there. ”

     The bird bastard would be there, and so Rocinante wouldn't. It was simple. The brat would be safe and fine, at the very least. Rocinante may not be one of his, but he was still part of the damnable family Garp had built and been given over the years. If he ended up failing in protecting Ace  ( he couldn’t  he already had )  than at least there was shallow comfort in the certainty that the blood of some brats his heart held fondly wouldn't stain his hands just yet.

[killuaisaprincess]

.

[hoodiewithhorns]

━  using your safeword scenarios p.2 ★

characters :  koshi sugawara, atsumu miya, kotaro bokuto 

i decided to make this the p.2 and include suga since like 3 ppl asked for him so yeah !!

p.1   + m.sterlist + requests  

(please read the rules before requesting ty.)

▼ cw :  not proof read, f! reader , size kink + not enough prep , spanking, dumbification, degradation, daddy/master kink, dacryphilia,  hurt + comfort, red! used as safeword, authority kink, angst, established relationship, all characters are 18+, MDNI ▲

Sugawara 

- he was always a softie to you

- praising you at everything you did and calling you a goodgirl too <3

- but when you reunited with your friends from highschool they all talked about how their partners would go rough on them bringing you curiosity on the thought of suga being rough with you

- they teased you for having such a soft boyfriend while they went on and on about how you should try it out too.

〜 ☆

- you wondered what would make him tick so you tried being a bit bratty when you got home

- you’d reply with “make me” and he was clueless he’d just go “uhh..okay? can you please sit down?”

- having enough of it he confronted you about it 

he hovered over you on top of the couch, staring into your eyes with worry. “y/n what’s gotten into you today? are you okay honey?” his voice was soft, full of  concern. you sighed avoiding his worrisome gaze at you. you felt bad for making your boyfriend become worry about you. he at first assume you had a bad day with your friends since you never acted so bratty towards him.

you took a deep breath now turning to face him completely, with your face slowly heating up. “its nothing koshi..i just wanted to try something” he titled his head in confusion at your words. “you wanted to try to be a brat to me? why would you wanna do that?” your cheeks now fully red in embarrassment. “n-no i thought maybe you could be a bit more um..rough with me..” he blinked a few times to analyze what you just told him.

i-its fine if you don’t want t-to!” you covered your face with your hands while he sighs in relief glad you weren’t having a bad day. he chuckled, pulling you into his arms to have you seated on his lap. “now what brought this up my love?” he asks kissing your forehead while he roams his hand through your hair. “well.. my friends said they really enjoyed it when their partners were rough with them and i just wanted to try it out so i thought being bratty might you know...make you wanna put me in my place and stuff..” you shyly spoke as you fiddle with your hands, a sign of nervousness he’s picked up from having dating you so long. 

“you sure baby?” his voice now sounding serious. the sad part was you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted this. feeling pressured to do it if you were being honest. you were fine with the way sex with suga was soft, nice and sweet. you did enjoy when he would speed up his thrusts when his high was approaching, but even at that you’d let tears fall at the stretch of him going fast. 

ignoring your uncertainty, you nodded looking him in the eyes. he could tell you were still nervous, but if you were okay about it he couldn’t say no to his princess. he kissed your cheek while getting close to your ear, whispering seductively “well since you were all bratty don’t you think you deserve a bit of punishment?” you looked up at him with clueless eyes, clenching your thighs together at his new tone. 

“um o-okay..koshi-”

“master, let’s go with that alright princess?”

you nodded letting him position you down on his lap, your stomach on his knees and head resting on the couch cushion. “ you know the safeword right darling?” you tried to look up at him, but your movements being limited. 

“yes koshi..”

“koshi?” he questions.

“ah i-i mean master!” you quickly corrected yourself. 

he patted your head smiling at your obedience. “goodgirl..now then” he tugged the waistband of your skirt smirking at your eager wiggle for him to remove them faster still felling uneasy, but full of anticipation  at what suga had in store for you. “now now, be patient you’re not supposed to enjoy your punishment you know?” 

“m’ sorry master..” he slid your skirt down, removing it finally, tossing it to the side of the living room, leaving you with nothing but underwear that was soaked with your juices. he rubbed soothing circles on your asscheek before he placed a mean slap on it. you jumped at the unexpected sting, your eyes starting to water with no tears falling just yet. “such a naughty thing huh?” landing another slap on your ass rubbing it to sooth the pain. the sting feeling good but the words he spoke starting to get you, breaking you down one by one. 

“what happened to my goodgirl huh? she came home so bratty..such a badgirl.” your pupils shrunk at the fact he called you bad. goodgirl was something he’d always call you making you blush and smile but the fact now you were his badgirl set something off in you. 

you wanted to push the feeling off you really did, but the slaps on your ass made you feel hazy and your tears started to fall on the couch. “why so quiet?you sure had a lot to say when you came home. is my badgirl finally gonna take her punishment like she’s supposed too?” slapping your ass once more leaving hand prints on it now that were bound to stay for awhile. 

you didn’t respond, instead you just sobbed in on yourself feeling small and pathetic that the fact he called you a badgirl was enough to make tears stain your cheeks. he froze turning you to face him on his lap. “hey baby you okay?was it too much??” 

“r-red..” finally speaking, he quickly pulled you in his embrace peppering your faces with kisses letting out soft apologies. “why’d you force yourself baby?” he whispers kissing you softly yet full of love.

“i-i’m still your goodgirl... right? i didn’t mean to be bad i promise..i thought i could take it but..” the feeling of guilt starting to take over you.

“but what baby you can say it i won’t get mad, i could never” you rested your head on his shoulder wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“i couldn’t..i like it when you’re soft with me..c-can we do that instead?? please master!”

he smirked at the fact you called him master, it made his cock twitch in his jeans. relief he didn't hurt you, he started kissing down your neck, letting one hand wander up your shirt to play with your hardening nipple. 

“of course. whatever my goodgirl wants. just please never force yourself to do anything ever again till you’re 100% okay with. got it?”

“yes master.”

Atsumu

- this man is kinda like kuroo 

- heavy with his degradation. 

- you didn’t mind ofc!! he’d reassure you he didn't mean what he said with his aftercare

- but tonight, he told you to ride him since you were being extra needy for him.

- he wanted to tease you and not fully give in and help you cum just to mess with you and have you beg.

-and well...he may have mixed in some dumbification.

- lets just say you might have taken some things to heart.

he clicked his tongue disappointed at your attempts to bounce on his cock. it hurt just dropping onto his dick but each time you bounced on it, you could feel the painful drag stretching your walls open making you sob. “come on..that all you got? it’s no fun having a dumb crybaby on my cock.” him calling you dumb catches you off guard, but choosing to ignore it you tried again this time quickening your pace.

he didn’t even let a grunt at the feeling just staring at you with a look of disapproval, already panting in exhaustion. he sighed getting tired of seeing you’re pathetic movements, he pushed you back down to take initiative having his cock still stuffed inside you. you let out a yelp at the unexpected change as he started rutting his hips into you, using your hips as support to hold himself, you moaned gripping his shoulders for support as your eyes rolled back to your head.

“was that so hard? i thought dumb needy sluts would try harder to try and get what they want.” he tutted, ramming into you meaner and harder, his cock grazing the tip of your cervix. you choked out a sob trying to look back at him, starting to not like were this was going.“m’..i was  trying my best daddy..”

“were you though? as always my dumb slut needs her daddy to step in and help her since she can’t do anything right.” the last sentence making your heart stop and everything around you freeze. did he really see you this way? as a dumb needy slut who can’t do anything right? you thought back to all the times you needed his help even beyond sex like when you’d ask him to help you get something that was too high up for you at a store, needed him to walk you home cause you weren’t strong enough to defend yourself. 

all these memories making your head feel dizzy. did he mean it??he never complained he was always happy to help his girlfriend. you started to continuously sob out apologies. your tears being easily mistaken for tears of pleasure, which only turned him on even more. 

“aw.” he faked sympathy for you with a frown, grabbing your chin to look at him. “its okay, daddy will find a use for you. after all the only thing you’re good at is being a dumb cocksleeve for me to pump full.” his eyes were dark when he spoke almost sadistically. the pleasure you were once receiving from him started turning to pain making you scream. 

“no more!! red! red! please atsumu stop!” he pulled out the second you tried pushing him off. 

he took a step-back watching as you slowly breakdown in front of him. he was scared, terrified even at seeing you so hurt you went as far as to use the little strength in you to push him off. 

he got off the bed running to the bathroom to grab a towel to wipe you. he returned sitting at the foot of the bed slowly approaching you with shaky hands. proceeding to wipe your tears away with it, glad you didn’t flinch at him. 

“hey..no more tears it’s okay its okay─i didn’t mean it i swear!” his voice cracked, with his eyes starting to water as well. you flipped yourself over to rest your head on his thigh. “thank god.” he mumbled looking up in relief. he was scared you were mad at him or was mad at him forever. 

the room was silent for a few minutes with only the movements of atsumu playing with your hair telling you over and over again how sorry he was.

“am i really that useless atsu..?” you mumbled, the thought of you calling yourself useless, being drilled into your head by atsumu made his heart sink. he quickly corrects you, pulling you up off his thigh into a tight hug, swinging you back and forth like a toddler. 

“NO! NO! thats untrue! i-i’m so sorry you’re not useless! you a very useful pretty baby that i love more than a-anything so don’t ever say that!” his tears falling down his cheeks hitting your skin. you started to feel your tears come up again too. you didn’t precisely see him cry, but you could tell by his broken tone he was almost as hurt as you. 

you wrapped your arms around him, as he gripped onto you tighter, scared you’d runaway or leave. 

“i’m sorry baby....i promise to never call you those things ever again.” he promised pulling away to look you in the eyes. you smiled making his heart skip a beat. 

“let’s go to sleep okay prettygirl?”

Bokuto

- he can get out of hand

- i wouldn’t say bokuto would be as rough vocally as the previous ones.

- HOWEVER, his cock is something you’ll never get used to

- each time you two did he had to prep you and even then it still hurt.

- you never complained though it was always temporary.

- he came home after a stressful game and only won because of pure luck.

- he was tired and needed to blow off steam immediately

- you being his cute wife was happy to help <3

he sloppily kissed down your neck, unbuttoning your shirt to have a turn at your breasts. you bit your lip to suppress your moans. “come on baby make some noise will ya?” he said removing your shorts completely before sucking at your clit making you wince, your eyes screwed shut at the pleasure. he began to stuff a finger in you feeling you clench around his finger.

“yeah just like that─fuck you’re really wet baby.” he licked his lips at the sight of your wet cunt. removing his finger completely, while running his thumb up and down your folds. he was getting impatient wanting to just ruin you already. he unbuckled his pants removing it quickly not remembering how big he was compared to you. removing his boxers just to let his cock spring free. you opened your eyes to see his tip slowly enter you. 

“w-wait bo! need more p-prep!”

“come on baby your a big girl right? you can take it.” your head fell back into the pillow as tears streamed down your cheeks at the stretch. no matter no many times bokuto fucked you it still hurt. you gripped a chunk of the bed sheets in your fists tightly, holding onto it for your dear life. 

he slowly went in you fully throwing his head back at how your gummy walls clenched around him so tightly. he knew it hurt you but it brought him a lot of pleasure that it did. the fact your tiny little hole would stretch pass its limit just to accumulate his fat cock was almost enough to make him cum right there.

he stilled for a few seconds, only to thrust roughly into you like a man starved of lust. you screamed as his fat cock dragged along your walls at the abnormal pace.  you didn’t know if you could last if you were being honest, it hurt it really did. normally, it would last a few thrusts but this time it lasted way too long for your liking. 

“bo! please s-slow down─ah!” he sped up his paces being too lost in his own pleasure to hear you. “bo!” you screamed still not getting his attention. 

feeling uneasy you let out a yell of the safeword “RED!” he halted his thrusts looking down at your face that was streaming with tears. 

��oh no oh no i─ baby i’m sorryyyy!” his hair flopping down going into his emo mode. he collapsed on top of you falling on your breasts looking up at you like a wounded puppy. you chuckled and played with his hair while he hugged you tightly. still in you.

“ its okay bo..” you smiled while he got off your breast to cup your face kissing it softly. 

“i’m sorry i didnt realize i was hurting you baby─ do you want me to stop we can stop!-”

“no bo its okay!its okay!” you quickly reassured kissing his cheek falling back on the bed rubbing your remaining tears away.

“just go slow okay? then when i’m fully ‘adjusted’ you can go fast and as rough as you want.”

you whispered making his emo mode fade away and his face light up with glee like he just won a prize.

“r-really? as rough as i want?” he asked making sure, you smiled in response. “yes bo. just start slow okay? i promise.” he nodded placing his hands at your sides to thrust slowly into you. he lowered himself to you and you wrapped your arms and legs around him while he began to kiss you passionately. 

☆〜 

 bokuto’s is really soft he’s a goofball and i love em sm. also never wrote for suga before?? i hope you suga stans liked it tho it was kinda hard to write him since i don’t seem him as the type to degrade his partner he’s just here to please his baby.

i still am taking requests all links are above and down here. remember to drink water. oh and heres the m.sterlist in case you missed it <3♡

[surely-galena]

omg the fic title ask meme looks so fun!! heres some my brain made, of different moods: "artem and crafts" "how many over-accomplished adults does it take to screw in a lightbulb?" "wait the time it takes to find a place called home" feel free to give any/all of these a pass if they dont vibe w u ofc! and i hope u have a great day :DDD

Hi Zak!! :D

And ooh, okay these are fun. Here's what I've got (and grab a drink, this one's a long one):

Artem and Crafts

This one is just gonna be a crack/comedy combination. It's Neil and Celestine co-hosting a mockumentary-type show (the show is called Artem and Crafts, which is a play on Arts and Crafts). What happens is they bring in a very clueless Artem and make him do crafts.

NEIL: Experiment #23. Paper snowflakes.

ARTEM: Wh -- you're still filming?

CELESTINE: While the last five paper-related crafts have not gone... smoothly, there is still hope for the subject.

ARTEM: For the last time, stop calling me that.

CELESTINE: Let's go in for a closer look.

-

ARTEM: You want me to cut paper snowflakes?

NEIL: It's quite simple. See this sheet of paper here? You just fold... and cut.

ARTEM: Fold and cut. [He folds a sheet of paper into a square and makes jagged cuts into it. He looks up.]

ARTEM: Are we going out for lunch after this?

[The camera zooms out to reveal various untouched items on a table behind him, not limited to but including: needles and wool felt, glitter, sand, nail polish, and banana leaves.]

CELESTINE: Uh... sure. [turning to the camera] We will be taking a short break after this to make sure the subject is fed.

The fic ends with a pile of crafts and one very successful origami boat. Artem is still relatively clueless, but Celestine and Neil close the fic by asking if he wants to see a movie after this.

CELESTINE: So... you wanna go out for a movie after this?

NEIL: Consider it payment for putting you through this today.

[ARTEM considers it.]

ARTEM: All right. But I get to pick.

CELESTINE: Sounds good to me. Just let me get the camera.

[CELESTINE walks up to the camera. She clicks a button, the camera shuts off, and the video ends.]

how many over-accomplished adults does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

Okay, this is also going to be crack/comedy, although maybe less so than the previous one. It might not work if you think too much about it, but maybe that's part of the fun. It's just DAVIS deciding to screw with the NXX.

Essentially, the big square light in the NXX HQ burns out in the middle of a stressful meeting. Grateful for the break, everyone puts a pause on things while Vyn goes hunting for some linear light bulbs or whatever the square light uses. Meanwhile, Luke shuts off the power and unscrews the old lightbulb. Vyn comes back with the lights and a ladder, screws in the new lights, and flips the light switch.

It doesn't turn on.

Vyn flips it on and off several times, then gives up. "I think I may have another spare somewhere," he says, and goes trudging off again.

When he comes back, Luke takes the new light bulb from him, unscrews the old one, and tries to screw this one in. "No offense, Vyn, but maybe you did it wrong. Or something."

It doesn't work for Luke, so Artem gives it a shot and goes through with the whole unscrew/screw-back process. The light still doesn't turn on, so Marius takes the previous light bulb from before and tries that while Luke fiddles with the power box. Still nothing. Everyone is stumped.

"Did you try turning it on and off again?" DAVIS pipes up, very innocently.

"Vyn already did that," Marius says.

Since everyone has their hands full or is busy with something, MC gives it a shot and flips the light switch again. The lights turn on, Marius almost falls off the ladder, and everyone looks at the lights, stunned.

DAVIS congratulates them, then thanks them for answering a question he's been storing in his memory for a while.

"What question?" Luke goes.

"How many of you it takes to screw in a lightbulb, with me tampering," DAVIS answers, and vanishes cutely back into MC's phone.

wait the time it takes to find a place called home

This one is not gonna be crack/comedy, hehe.

So here's what I'm thinking: we're gonna have a countdown. It's going to start from 5 and go all the way to 0. Some parts work better conceptually than practically, but I think the general idea is there :D

(Also, with hindsight: what happened to summarizing??😆)

5

We're going to open with Vyn as he steps into Stellis for the first time. A breeze wafts through his hair as he takes off his glasses to wipe them clean. We weave through several scenes of his future from there, from moving into a new house, meeting Giann, and setting up the research center, all the way to the founding of the original NXX. The last scene is of Vyn in his armchair, in the house we are so familiar with. It is late evening, and classical music is playing in the background. He thinks he could be happy, or is at least beginning to be.

4

We then cut to Marius as he steps out from a plane. He's just returned from Florence, and while he's stressed, tired, and anxious, part of him is happy to be back. Like with Vyn, we move through multiple scenes, sort of like through a roll of film or slides on an old projector. We see Marius settling into his new role as Pax CEO, painting in his studio, wandering the empty halls of his mansion. We see Marius hunting for information for his brother late at night. We end with Marius in his studio, finishing the last stroke on a canvas. He rubs his Z tag between his finger and thumb, and looks out through the window at a vast, dark sky.

3

Then, Luke. We cut to him as he places a hand over his eyes to shield himself from the sun. He releases a soft sigh as he walks into a city he has not set foot in for the past eight years. Things are different now -- he can point out unfamiliar buildings and new shops where old ones have closed -- and he almost feels like a stranger to a place he had once called home. We follow Luke as he settles into his new place, works his job at the bar, and sets up his antique shop. In the last scene, we see him at his desk, reading over an envelope with a magnifying glass. A framed photo sits at the corner of his desk; it's of him and his childhood friend. Luke pauses to pull the photo frame away from the edge of the desk, but as he picks it up, he can't help but linger over the photo. Peanut chirps softly, like he's asking a question. Luke glances at him, then shakes his head and sets down the photo frame. He needs to focus on his work.

2

We're going to cut to Artem after Luke. We follow him as he enters the newly established Themis Law Firm. Celestine grins at him and offers a fist bump, and he smiles and touches his fist to hers. We move into a number of scenes again, cutting between more domestic scenes as Artem goes to the library, plays with children at the orphanage, and drives circles around town, and work-related scenes as he scrolls through his tablet in his office, stands in court to defend a client, and sits through both online and in-person meetings. In a more vulnerable scene, we see him pass a photo of his father and linger on it, for a moment, before walking away. Cuts between scenes begin to increase as the scenes themselves begin to repeat, creating a loop of mounting stress and endless repetition. We flash back and finally stop at Artem waving goodbye to Neil. He does not know it will be his last time.

1

The final person we focus on is MC herself. As Artem enters the law firm, the camera follows him until we see MC in the background. We stop, and as Artem walks away we begin to zoom in on MC. She's laughing at something Kiki has said. We pause, and then the clock turns back eight years. We see MC mostly alone in the following scenes. We watch her as she waits for a friend to visit on his birthday, but never does. We see her as she graduates high school, searching the audience for her parents or that childhood friend who left, but they are nowhere to be found. We see her as she smashes a glass door to pieces after accidentally trapping herself on her balcony. But we also see her performing a play with college students, making phone calls to unknown people, and shaking hands with Celestine Taylor. We fast forward again, and finally stop to find MC walking to work. A delivery person is waiting outside, and when she finds that the package he holds is for Artem, she takes it and enters the law firm.

0

We fade out from MC and wait in the darkness for a few moments. It's silent. Then we fade in onto a bright room with five seats around a glass table. Five people are standing in the room, four of them glaring daggers at each other. We are finally seeing Vyn, Marius, Luke, Artem, and MC all in the same place. Spinning around, Luke grabs MC's hand and pulls her out of the room.

We then switch to a series of smaller scenes: MC nodding as she reaffirms her decision to join the team, Vyn rolling his eyes at something Marius says, Artem raising a hand in greeting as he meets the four of them outside court. We see Vyn, Luke, Artem, and Marius react as a young boy presses a kiss to MC's cheek in thanks.

Then we cut to a ship, cruising across the ocean, and pan to an island beach, where Artem, Luke, Marius, and Vyn are gathering supplies. We linger there for a moment, then pan up to a cliff as all five team members walk to the edge of a cliff to watch the sun rise. MC smiles as she points out something on the horizon.

We keep going: following the five of them as they wander through abandoned manors, discuss plans in the safety of their headquarters, and drive to unknown locations. Finally, we stop back at headquarters, zooming into the walls to transition to: the lounge. Vyn is reading near a bookshelf as Artem makes himself a cup of coffee. As Marius naps on a sofa bed, Luke speaks softly to Peanut. MC sits under the stairs, a hot cup of tea and a folder of documents in her hand. She looks up to see the people around her and smiles to herself.

She's finally feeling at home.

And she thinks that the rest of them might be, too.

Thank you for the titles! Wishing you a great rest of your weekend as well!! <3

[softspeirs]

Inside Source (3/6)

Pairing: Lewis Nixon/OFC Summary: A war correspondent with an ulterior motive. That’s one move the intelligence officer didn’t see coming. He also didn’t expect the correspondent to be a woman. In this part: Things do not go well this week for Easy Company. They also don’t go well when it comes to getting news about Ellie’s brother.

Previous part here.

The previous ten days have been an absolute nightmare. The German attack has been relentless, and they’re losing people every day. 

Morale is at an all time low, and with a curse under his breath, Nixon’s morale drops even lower as he reads through a hastily written telegram. 

“Shit.” 

Dick looks up at him, brow wrinkled. “What is it?” 

“The 1st SS Panzer Division moved in on St. Vith three days ago.” His jaw clenches. “The 1st Army retreated.” 

“What about the 82nd?” 

“Too chaotic to tell yet, but Dick-- it was a total shitshow. They’re saying over 10,000 dead or captured.”

“You don’t know for sure--” 

“Look, we have bigger things to worry about. St. Vith falling almost definitely means we’re going to be in the shit. We’re the only thing keeping this part of the line intact. We need to be prepared.” 

“You need to talk to Ellie. Try to convince her to get on the next jeep to Bastogne so she can get out of here.”

Nixon grinds his teeth. “Yeah, that’ll go over well. ‘Hey, Ellie, the best chance of you finding your brother is probably at a field hospital, so you might as well start with this one.’”

Dick rolls his eyes. “More tact, probably.”

“I need to brief the squad leaders.”

“Don’t put it off, Nix.” Dick warns as Nixon heads out of the CP. His head already aches from exhaustion, and the thought of having to give Ellie this news.

He gets the various Lieutenants and Sergeants together and briefs them, telling them to expect attacks of increasing force over the next three days. Afterwards, he steels himself and finds Ellie.

She’s perched on the edge of a foxhole, alone, scribbling in her notebook. She looks up at his approach, and her smile breaks his heart. She must read it on his face, because her smile disappears, and she stands hastily.

“What? What happened?” 

“Ellie--” 

“Is he dead?” Her voice cracks. “Just tell me.”

“I don’t know, Ellie.” Her knees wobble, but he reaches for her before she can collapse into the snow and dirt. 

Their hands clasp together like puzzle pieces, and he takes a moment to admire her strong grip before he remembers she’s literally holding on to him for dear life. 

“I don’t know,” he repeats. “But the news out of St. Vith isn’t good.” 

“Oh,” she chokes, trying to stay calm. 

“There’s more.”

She meets his eyes with her watery green ones. “Go on, then.”

“It’s about to get bad. Really bad, Ellie. I think you should go to Bastogne and wait it out at the hospital.”

Something flashes in her eyes, but she doesn’t argue. He feels conflicted. He’s grown attached to her, and he doesn’t truly want her to go. But on the other hand, he can barely stand the thought of her being here if they’re overrun by Germans or if the line breaks. There’s no way she’d survive, and if she did, the outcome may be far worse.

“I can’t go,” she protests, her voice fierce. “I’ve been here for weeks and I’ve survived--”

“By pure luck!” He says angrily. “Ellie, you’re not trained for combat and even if you were, the type of shelling we’re going to be facing makes the last two weeks seem like child’s play.” 

A more detailed description of what happened in St. Vith fills his mind, his imagination filling in the gaps of what it must have looked like afterwards.

“I don’t want to go.” She says, and then looks embarrassed, like she hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

His next words escape almost without his permission. “I don’t really want you to go, either.” His voice is soft, unrecognizable even to his own ears. “But if the Germans break through the line... El, you cannot be here.”

“Okay.” She says finally. “Okay. Just-- how soon? Do I have time to say goodbye?” 

“I’ll have Doc Roe take you to town when you’re ready. We could use you to bully him into eating something, anyway.” He says, trying to lighten the conversation. 

She smiles weakly, and he hates himself for giving her so much bad news all at once. 

“I’ll find you before I go.” 

“Counting on it.” He says, his voice that unrecognizable low rasp once again. 

He has no idea that the decision to send her into Bastogne proper might be a worse decision than letting her stay here and take her chances. He has no idea what lies ahead for Easy Company.

.

A/N: Sorry this part is so short! Next part here.

[whenimaunicorn]

The Heart of Admiration - Part 8

Charles Vane x OFC

Turmoil leads to certain truths being confessed into the dark.

Words: 2246 Content: angst with a side of angst; contemplation of betrayal, unexpected fluff (is the slow burn finally catching?)

It’s approaching midnight, and Hope’s still pacing the deck. She’d already resolved she doesn’t give a whit about keeping up the ruse for Mr. Fellows anymore; tonight she’ll sleep in her rightful place among the crew. Now that she knows what awaits her in her captain’s quarters.

The only thing that’s stopping her from going down to her hammock right now is that she knows she won’t sleep. Too many thoughts are swirling in her head. All she can do is pace, and take measurements she doesn’t even need, and pace again.

Her worst fears realized. Hope feels sicker than she did when Charles Vane disbanded her crew, and she had to beg for her brother-in-law’s life to be spared. Sicker now, because at that time she hadn’t expected anything better from the fearsome brute. Everyone knew Captain Vane’s reputation, and that of his whole crew for that matter. When had she let herself believe that him, and Jack Rackham for that matter, were somehow more noble than any other of the black-hearted men that turned pirate?

She forces herself to take a breath. If she’s now maligning the entirety of her own profession, then certainly her emotions have taken away all rationality. And yet—had seducing her truly been his plan all along? And had Hope actually been falling for it?

Perhaps Stevens and the boys have it right. Something deep within her heart breaks to hear that thought, even if it is only resounding through the inside of her own skull. Avenge the Starling and run. There’s a certain justice to it. The bird flies the cage, but takes everything with her on the way out? Marvelous. Hope feels her heart turning as black as the inky waters look this night, and allows herself to sink into that feeling a little deeper. If they got free with it, they could easily run right back to Nassau. Certainly Eleanor Guthrie would give them haven after they crossed Charles Vane, merely on principle.

Hope feels her guts sicken even more.

Just a few hours ago, she’d been pondering what had felt like the very real possibility that she was in love with Captain Vane. Distraught that her feelings weren’t returned. Now all she can hear is that ugly edge in Jack’s voice as he taunted their captain to take her. They don’t see her any differently than the women back on shore, after all. Prizes to be captured, warm bodies to be used, the luckiest of whom could only hope to become a cherished object kept locked up and secreted away.

That would never be her. Hope simply would not allow it.

Should she go talk to Stevens? Her feet carry her to the ladder, and then away again. She remains furious, but she can’t yet commit to that course of action. There is a difference between capturing a prize on open waters, and stealing a treasure right under the noses of men that trust you. Hope had only supported the scheme that ended the Starling because they had truly planned to hold the cargo safe until a beneficial, fair negotiation had been reached. She would not want Vane to think her a liar, if she proved herself capable of turning around and doing just the thing he had accused her of.

And yet. What else is she to do? Carry on as if nothing had changed? This ache in her heart demands satisfaction. She could leave without causing any trouble; she could think of several other captains that would have her, but even that more reasonable thought leaves her feeling itchy. Slipping away without making some sort of statement just won’t do.

~*~

She’s on her way down to the berth deck, finally ready to set her swirling thoughts to rest, but she doesn’t get very far. Stevens is coming up the other way. She’s surprised; she thought this was his shift to sleep. His pace slows when he sees her, and his eyebrows raise in silent question.

She’s leaning toward conspiring with him, but she has not yet made up her mind. A bolt of panic flashes through her. If she speaks with him, her hesitancy will show, and she may ruin her chances of playing this situation in either direction. Might not be able to help him or stop him.

He’s almost reached her. His mouth opens to speak a greeting. Hope realizes they’re right in front of the door to the captain’s cabin. The one “Mrs. Vane” sleeps in too. To her own horror, Hope finds herself taking the coward’s way out, giving Stevens an apologetic smile and stepping right in through that door as if this was her intention all along.

Vane is sitting on his bed, half-undressed, because of course he is. But what is she to do, step right back out into the hallway again? She shuts the door quickly behind herself, then whirls to face her captain so that she does not look the coward.

They stare at each other for a long moment. What is she to say? She didn’t even plan to come in here. And she certainly can’t explain why she did. “I’d given up on seeing you tonight,” he rasps up at her. He eyes her and she says nothing and so he continues. “After you stormed away without giving me a chance to explain myself.”

“I still don’t want to hear it,” she growls. How could she know what words to trust, coming out of his mouth? She doesn’t want excuses. She doesn’t want this smoothed over with half-truths. She can’t bear to feel the crack in her heart widen.

His brows lift, then converge in an angry crease. “Then why did you come in.”

A good question, Hope. She’s not even certain why the sight of Stevens made her feel such panic in the first place. She had convinced herself up on deck of her new resolve, hadn’t she?

And now Vane is sitting here right before her, looking up with poorly-disguised pain in his eyes. In his eyes? He growls again before she can formulate an answer. “You’d better not tell me that you intend to berate me without hearing my side. That’s not how this is going to work.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

She tries to turn away, but when her captain makes a scoffing sound she can’t help but look back. “So you came in here, what, because ‘Mrs. Vane’ needs to go to bed?”

“It is late,” she says. Too early to step back out again, and risk Stevens wondering why she ducked in here in the first place. She settles for an easy lie. “I thought I’d find you already asleep.”

“The only time you’re content to rest beside me,” Vane says bitterly, looking away. “When I’m unconscious.”

Hope barks a laugh. Does he really think she’d climb into bed with him after what she overheard? “This time, I will gladly sleep on the floor.”

He flops back in the bed, turning on his side so all she can see is the broad expanse of his scarred back and his hair spilled across the pillow. “Suit yourself.”

She tries to. Pacing across the short space to her trunk, she sits down on it and takes her boots off. Noisily. She doesn’t want to talk, but she doesn’t want to let the man rest, either. He shifts positions when she all but hurls the second one onto the decking beside her, but that’s the only reaction she gets.

She looks around for anything soft to lie down upon, but it appears that the only blanket in the room is trapped underneath Vane’s inert form.

She’s not going to ask for it.

Instead, she puts out the light, loosens her belt, and lies down on her back, fully clothed, on the stretch of decking beside Vane’s bed. A porthole lets in a little moonlight, just enough to outline the hulking form of his shoulder above her. She closes her eyes, tells herself she doesn’t want to look at him. Now is the time for sleep.

Her mind won’t rest. Now that the man is right here, willing to talk to her, she can’t help but imagine what she might say to him were she inclined to let that conversation happen. A bird in a cage. That’s what Jack had called her. She’d certainly felt that way when she got here; has she been lying to herself since then? Getting comfortable with the crew, becoming friends with Anne, and even with Vane himself. Was all that just gilding on the bars?

He was willing to let you go, she tells herself. You just didn’t take it.

Still. The things she’d heard Jack say don’t sit right. We didn’t have to come down so hard on the Starling, he’d said. She’d been approaching them ‘round the corner, and of course her feet had slowed when she heard them talking about her, and her “value.” A part of her wishes she hadn’t. It hurt to know this side of the story. That the dismantling of the Starling had been her fault, that she’d inspired a lustful eye just waiting for an excuse to crack that ship and steal her like a prize. Jack’s words are burnt into her memory: You saw what you wanted, and got control of her.

Vane releases a heavy sigh above her, laced with the frustration of being unable to sleep.

It pisses Hope off. Why is she laying here blaming herself? Jack may have said it, and Vane may not have disagreed with it, but that doesn’t mean it’s true, that she’s responsible for this man’s brutish choices. She’s glad he’s still awake, glad he’s just as troubled as she; if anything he should be the most troubled. He’s not even offering to make any amends.

“The least you could do is give me that blanket,” she barks into the darkness above her.

She hears more than sees Vane roll in her direction. “The least you could do is let me speak.”

“Is this a negotiation? Withholding comfort until I consent to hear you out? Because if we’re talking, you are the one who is going to listen to me.”

“Fine.”

But Hope doesn’t know what to say. The silence stretches between them. As her eyes rove around in the dark, she realizes Vane is peering down off the side of the bed. The angle of the moonlight is likely illuminating her face more clearly than his. He’s just watching, and waiting. But she doesn’t know where to start.

“How much did you hear?” he asks softly. Is it defensive, or is he trying to give her a place to begin?

“Enough,” she barks back.

Vane sighs. “Jack—” he begins, but Hope cuts him off quick.

“You think you can blame this on Jack? I didn’t hear you disagreeing with him.”

“That’s not—”

“You said that I would talk first. I’m not going to lay here listening to you make excuses. The truth and a lie are so close, aren’t they? So close,” she seethes. “After all your talk about ‘liberating’ me from a crew that I was ‘too good for.’ I remember what you said, the last time this ship was likened to a cage around me.” She glares up at the beams of said ship, although she can barely see them in the dim. “You did it for me, yes, but not for my own good. And not for my skills, apparently, either. After all we’ve been through, the truth comes out. I am only here because you want to sleep with me.”

“I don’t want to sleep with you,” Vane grinds out through his teeth.

Hope is too surprised to interrupt him, this time. Even as the silence stretches out a little longer. She no longer knows what she wants him to say next. This morning she was disappointed at his lack of interest, and this evening she was enraged at the spectre of his lust. Which is it? What does she want from him?

“I want,” Vane says slowly, words rumbling even deeper than usual, like rocks deep in the earth grinding together, “to share my life with you. I want you with me every morning when I wake. I want to work with you, seize prizes with you, and sometimes even be the reason that you smile.” Every word is measured, thoughtful, and as true as the very roots of the earth. “That is more important to me than anything else. Anything.”

Hope wishes she could see his face better, as he confesses these words into the dark.

“So I hope that you can forget what you heard Jack say, because I already have everything that I want most.” Is that a stubborn set to his jaw? “And I would never want to lose it over the matter of lust. I was handling my feelings just fine before this,” he pauses, “and I will continue to do so, quietly, and respectfully. As you certainly must admit I have been doing so far. Do not let it trouble you.”

He stirs in the bed above her, and it takes her a moment to work out what he’s doing. His whole body lifts, and then settles, and then his arm extends silently down to her, proffering a fist full of the requested blanket.

In stunned silence, she takes it.

Next chapter

Taglist is open:  @ladyhubris @summertimesadness101 @23orso @n3rdybird​ @bitchyikes​ @navigatrixnarrations​

[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter Eleven ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 4471

Warnings: None

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Hello hello, happy Easter! Tomorrow (Monday) is a little bit hectic for me so I’m getting this one out tonight (Sunday) instead. Thanks for reading :)

After a quick breakfast with Haldir and Glorfindel, they set off and I spend the day exploring Imladris. I do not stray far from the main household, yet all that I discover does not cease to amaze me. Elrond’s home is beautiful. If it weren’t for all the horrible, sudden drop-offs, I would consider it a perfectly wonderful place to live.

I spend the first part of my day in the garden. Behind the stone of the estate is a sprawling field filled with an impossibly wide variety of flora. I pass time exploring each bush, tree, and sprout, every one somehow more beautiful than the last. A few of the more sweet-smelling blossoms make me sneeze, so after a while, I head back inside to explore Elrond’s extensive library. But when the sun begins to sink below the horizon, I know I shouldn’t put it off any longer — I have ignored him since our arrival. I need to go see Alex. We haven’t talked in private ever, really, but I feel like we need to touch base. Though we may be slightly at odds, we owe it to each other to work through it.

I remember an attendant leading him down the hallway below mine as I ascended the stairs last night, and from there, it’s not hard for me to figure out which room is his. All the other doors are open, indicating that the inhabitants are out for the day. Already in my short stay here, I realize the elves are much more trusting than humans — while private, they must rely on each other to respect that privacy, because they don’t attempt to bar others from entering their spaces by closing their doors when they are not home. One door at the very end of the hall is closed shut. It is undoubtedly Alex’s.

I knock once.

He opens the door and I try to disguise my shock at the dark circles under his eyes and his disheveled hair. In all my memories of him, he is so put together, and this is completely at odds with the man I think I know. He ushers me in and shuts the door quickly behind me. The slam echoes through the stone room. He turns to me, wringing his hands together almost nervously. Unease grows in my stomach.

“Are you okay?”

He shakes his head violently and begins to pace the length of the small bedroom. “Of course I’m not okay. We’ve been wrenched from all that we know and dropped in this ridiculous place—” He cuts off his words and stares at the ground, shaking his head. “Look, I’ve decided that there’s no way around it. We are in some sort of other world — there’s no way this is some place back where we’re from. But if we did arrive here somehow, that means there has to be a way back. So we need to find it.”

I sit on the edge of his bed, watching him warily. I, too, have recently accepted the reality of this new world, but I hadn’t expected Alex to come around so easily — especially after our conversations on the way here. But getting home…if it’s a real possibility…”Do you think we could do that?”

His eyes snap to mine, desperation causing them to blow wide. “I think Elrond could. The people here hold him in such high esteem—I believe he’s very powerful. We need to talk to him, plead our case. If anyone could send us back, it’s probably him.” He notices my silence and turns on me with an accusatory stare. “You do want to go home, right?”

I swallow. “I…I think so. I mean, it is really dangerous here….But Elrond had a good point when I talked to him earlier. He said it’s probably just as dangerous in our homeworld.”

He groans almost animalistically. “I cannot keep having this fight with you! We don’t belong here. The dangers of our world are ours and the dangers of this world are theirs. And just because we agree that this is a different world doesn’t mean that anything’s changed. We still have people back home who miss us.”

But after my conversation with Haldir, I’m not so sure that’s the case. Yes, there are probably people who miss us in the usual sense, but the crushing grief that must come from being separated from someone you really, truly care for…I’m not sure I have that. I think I would know if I did.

I try to redirect the subject, not wanting to get into it with Alex. “How do you think it would work? Getting home. Do you think we would get our memories back?”

He stops pacing, excitement entering his eyes now that I’m seemingly more agreeable to his position. “Yeah, I think we would. Now, does that mean we would lose the memories we’ve made here? Maybe. Probably. Again, I think Elrond has the answers.”

I let my eyes fall to my fingers. The thought of forgetting…of basically erasing my time here, the friendships I’ve made…it makes me feel horribly sad. I drop my head into my hands. Oh, I just don’t know what to do!

“Let’s go talk to Elrond,” Alex urges. “See what he has to say.”

“Okay,” I agree, trudging to the door. At the very least, it will provide a distraction from the grief that has hit me so unexpectedly. “He’s probably in his study—follow me.”

I lead Alex along the same route I took this morning. Only, then, Haldir was at my side. I feel a pang of loneliness. Huh. After two weeks in constant company, I guess it is a little strange to be separated from him and the others.

As this morning, Elrond is in his study, surrounded by books and stacks of parchment. Stress tugs at the edges of his eyes but when he raises his head to greet us, it fades into a look of knowing. He was expecting us.

“Ah,” he stands, beckoning for us to enter. “I was wondering when I would be seeing you. Please, come in. I believe we have much to discuss.”

Alex strides forward, a stubborn set to his shoulders. He wastes no time. “How do we get back home?”

Elrond raises a thoughtful eyebrow, leading us to an auxiliary room with plushy chairs and couches. I sit on an unoccupied cushion. “What makes you so sure you can?”

Alex huffs. “If we got here, we can get back. Somehow, there’s a link between the worlds. We just need to find it and use it to get home.”

Elrond nods, appraising my friend. Unexpectedly, he turns his head to me. “And you, Cosima? Do you think there is a way home?”

I open my mouth, but no words come out. I close it, looking at the ground to buy myself some time. What are the possibilities? What are the chances? … And what am I hoping for? “I…I think Alex is probably right. Doors open both ways, right? If it opened to send us here, it can open to send us back. But we don’t know how easy it is to open that door.”

A sparkle enters Elrond’s eye. “Humans often do not get enough credit for their intelligence, nor their tenacity. Yes, I agree that there should be a way for the two of you to return to your homeworld. Power in Arda is changing. Forces of evil grow and the wisdom of the elves must adapt to overcome it. There is a finite amount of power in this world, and with it being pulled in so many different directions, it is possible it has grown thin in its blanket over our universe. The two of you could have fallen between the cracks.”

I look at the wall, not able to withstand Elrond’s piercing gaze or Alex’s frenzied one. If there is a real possibility of going home…isn’t it my duty to try?

Something in Elrond’s words catches my attention. “If the dispersion of that finite amount of power is constantly changing…is it possible that the ‘crack’ that let us in has already closed? Or moved somewhere else? If we tried to go back, isn’t there a chance we would end up in some other world?”

Elrond’s mouth sets into a grave line. “Precisely. There is a great deal of risk involved in your endeavor to return to your world.”

“But you can help us?” Alex speaks in a rough, desperate voice.

Elrond shakes his head, expression regretful. “I have power, yes, but not in the way you seek. If someone were able to help you—and bear in mind, it is a strong ‘if’—it would be Lady Galadriel. I believe you have heard of her through your companions?”

Alex grits his teeth, standing and beginning to pace a furious line. “Are you positive there is nothing you can do? It took two weeks to get here and that wasn’t even the whole journey. We do not have time to wait for them to decide to return to Lothlórien and then make the trip there. That could set us back months.”

“With regret, I am unable to help. My skill lies in healing and languages—academia, really. My power cannot compare to that of the Lady. I am sorry.”

I hate myself a little for it, but I feel relieved. The choice is taken from me. For the time being, all I can do is wait. Lady Galadriel might be able to help us, yes, but it will be at least two months before I have to make the choice to attempt to return home or not.

Alex evidently doesn’t feel the same way, and I don’t like the way he’s glaring at Elrond. I try to smooth things over. “Thank you for speaking with us and trying to help. We’ll let you get back to your work.” I stand, bowing my head in farewell as I’ve seen the elves here do. Alex makes no move to follow me. I prompt him with his name. He keeps his jaw tightly clenched but does incline his head towards Elrond before stalking from the room.

I have to jog to catch up. “Alex—“

“Entertain yourself, Cosima. I want to be alone.”

I take a step back. It’s not his words that stun me, it’s the grief in them. He sounds like he’s being torn apart.

Whereas I feel relief and, if I’m being honest with myself, no small amount of happiness.

I think I’m a bad person.

But I can do one good thing, and that’s grant Alex his wish to handle his feelings in private. I step forward, give him a quick, awkward hug, and let him walk away.

{***}

After lunchtime, there’s a knock on my door. I open it to the grinning faces of Rumil, Orophin, and Lavandil.

Laughing at their enthusiasm, I wave them in, grateful for the seating area in my bedroom — it makes hosting quite convenient.

Rumil whistles lowly, taking a look around. “Look at how they’ve set you up! I’ve got to share with Haldir which is just as terrible as it sounds. He says I snore! I do not snore.” He looks so offended, I don’t have the heart to tell him that he occasionally does.

Lavandil runs her hand over one of the gossamer curtains, eyeing the view. “I love these falls. You don’t seem them as well back where I grew up—that’s partly why I moved to the main city. They’re wonderful, no?”

Even though I’m not a fan of their height, I can definitely agree to their splendor. “Oh, absolutely. After days of the plains and rocks, it’s so nice to have a change of scenery.”

Rumil pours himself a glass of water and reclines on the chaise. “So, where have you been off to today? Baranor and I came looking for you this morning but you weren’t here.”

I blink. I figured Rumil would know, given he shares a room with the brother who collected me. “Haldir took me this morning to see Elrond about my arm. See?” I hold it up to present the thin, raised scar. “All healed. It’s miraculous, really, how it healed within minutes. And then Glorfindel, Haldir, and I had breakfast in the kitchens because I guess we missed the main meal, and then the two of them took off for the borders. I explored for a bit and then—” I falter. Should I tell them about my meeting with Alex and Elrond? Silly, I admonish myself. You didn’t do anything wrong. Still, it feels strange to admit to them that I had been seeking a way home—a way to leave them, essentially. But there’s no good reason to keep it hidden, so I brush aside my hesitation. “I talked to Alex, and then he and I went to visit Elrond.”

“About your home,” Orophin guesses, gravity in his voice.

“Yes,” I admit.

Rumil gapes, evidently caught off-guard, and I shoot him an apologetic look. Yeah, that hurts.

“We wanted to know if getting home is even a possibility. And, well, jury’s still out. But Elrond thinks if someone can help us, it will be Lady Galadriel. So…” I shrug.

A twinkle enters Rumil’s eye and he sits forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “So you’re returning to Lothlórien with us?” All traces of hurt have disappeared from his features.

I can’t help but grin at his excitement. “Yes—if you’ll have us.”

“Of course we will!” He beams, sitting back into the chaise with a new air of relaxation. “I mean, Haldir has the final say of course, but he’ll say yes. He might not like Alex, but he has grown quite fond of you.”

Each ellyn suddenly seems very interested in scrutinizing my face. I feel my cheeks heat under the weight of their stares and try to disguise it by standing and filling a glass of water. “I’ve grown fond of all of you, too.”

Rumil presses further. “Yes, but if you had to pick one—someone you’re the most fond of—who would that be?”

Orophin chuckles and Lavandil bites her lower lip, looking up at me with interest. I take a sip of the water, trying to buy myself time. This feels like a trap. I get around it as best I can. “Roch, of course. I miss him already.”

This sends them into fits of laughter and evidently puts their curiosity to rest — for the time being. I return to my seat, lounging along with them. When the sky begins to darken, Orophin requests dinner to be brought to us and we talk into the late hours of the night enjoying good food and even better company. And, though I am sure to feel guilty about it later, I do not miss Alex or my home at all.

{***}

Despite my full belly and long day, sleep eludes me. Part of that is my fault—I hold myself back from drifting off, not wanting to have another nightmare. When it must be at least midnight, I give up tossing and turning and change back into my day clothes. I didn’t spend near enough time wandering the garden or the library — perhaps I can tire myself with some exploring. As silently as possible, I push open the creaking door and step into the hallway.

It’s surprisingly bright — I’ve caught the moon when it’s high in the sky, and tonight it is full and robust in its shine. Light dances atop the ever-flowing water, creating a sparkling effect that leaves me breathless. Once again, I find myself glad that I have more time here. Though part of me feels like I should want to return home, another part of me isn’t near ready to leave. There’s so much more to see and learn and…well, I’m not ready to give up my new friends.

I go slowly down the open-air corridor, trying to keep my noise to a minimum. The household is asleep, for the most part. I see the odd attendant bustling around finishing duties, but the night is quiet and peaceful. It’s too beautiful to pass time away inside, so I elect to go back to the gardens and just avoid the blossoms that sent me into a sneezing fit earlier today.

The gardens are at the back of the estate and I do my best to remember the path I took this morning. With so many pavilions and archways and hallways and staircases, it’s easy to get lost. But all hallways—sooner or later—lead outside. So, after minutes of unsuccessfully trying to retrace my path, I choose a hallway at random, deciding to follow it to its end.

Further down, warm light flickers and ebbs—candlelight. As I get closer, I catch a voice I know well. He speaks in hurried, hushed tones in the Elvish language—arguing, maybe? Or just having a rushed discussion? A vaguely familiar voice responds in the same manor. Abruptly, the sounds cut off.

I take a few steps forward, the two figures becoming visible in the limited light.

“Haldir?” Squinting, I realize why I sort-of recognized the other voice—it belongs to Glorfindel. The two turn to me, each dipping their head in welcome.

Glorfindel looks perplexed. “Hello, Cosima. Do humans not require much sleep?”

I laugh guiltily. “No, they do — probably more than elves if we’re basing it on my traveling companions. I just couldn’t sleep so I was trying to find the gardens.”

Haldir steps out of the doorway and turns to Glorfindel. “Ah, I should be letting you get to bed, mellon.” He gives a nod of farewell to his elven friend. “We will continue our discussion tomorrow?”

“Yes, yes.” Glorfindel waves off Haldir’s stern look and moves to shut his door. “Goodnight.”

Haldir and I are alone in the hallway.

He clears his throat. “Would you like company?”

I smile, gesturing in the direction of what I hope is the outdoors. “Sure. You’re not tired after being gone all day?”

He shrugs, clasping his hands behind his back as he walks. “Tired, yes. Though my mind is not yet ready for sleep.”

“Was it a long day, then?”

Haldir sighs, and the sound is so weighed down with exhaustion and sadness that I nearly stop and insist we both go to bed. Sleep might make him feel better. But he is an adult and so am I, and neither of us really wants to sleep. So I say nothing and wait for him to explain.

“Much of Elrond’s border patrol is young. I worry they are unprepared for the increase in attacks. The conversation you heard—Glorfindel and I were disagreeing. I think it is worth advising Elrond to send his more experienced fighters to the borders and allow the newer ones to use this time to train. Glorfindel thinks calling the entire army is an overreaction and that I am overstepping my bounds. And he is right. I am captain of the Lady’s guard, not Lord Elrond’s. Still, I cannot help but believe it is worth interfering in this way — I think it could save lives, help Imladris be more prepared.” He looks at the ground, shaking his head. “I am sorry. I don’t need to be bothering you with this.”

“No, it’s alright.” I chuckle ruefully. “You’ve seen me cry so many times, you’ve earned the right to talk about whatever you want.”

He smiles and gives me a side-eye. “I’ll admit, while your tears used to perplex me, I think I am more accustomed to them by now.”

I roll my eyes and make a conscious effort not to be offended. “Great.”

He gives me an apologetic look, but mirth dances in his eyes. I turn the conversation back on him. “So what are you going to do?”

He sighs slowly, turning the corner into an adjacent hallway. “I will continue discussing it with Glorfindel tomorrow — it would be ideal to have him on my side. But if not, I plan to go to Elrond. I’d rather cause offense than withhold strategies that could save lives.”

I nod, agreeing. “Hopefully Glorfindel will see your side, and if he doesn’t, at least Elrond. I can’t imagine he would disagree — Elrond doesn’t seem like the type of man to choose pride over lives.”

“Ellon,” Haldir corrects gently.

I turn over my shoulder so he can see the begrudging look I give him. “Ellon.”

Haldir smiles almost smugly and we step from stone to lush grass. We’ve come out on the side of the estate — the garden is in the back. Thankfully, Haldir seems to know where to go. We curve our path left.

It’s a bit humid and I can feel my hair already reacting. I bring a hand to the back of my head, attempting to smooth the frizz. “Speaking of Elrond, Alex and I went to see him today — Did Rumil tell you?”

Haldir shakes his head but gives me a look that shows he’s not surprised — he guessed Alex and I would ask Elrond about getting home.

I continue, feeling a tad nervous. Rumil said Haldir wouldn’t object to our returning with him, and I don’t think he would…but what if he does? I don’t think I’d be able to keep myself from taking it personally.

I twist the fingers of my right hand into the fabric of my dress. “Um, Elrond mentioned that if anyone can help us get home, it would be Lady Galadriel. So—if it’s alright with you, of course—I—we—would like to return home with you. To Lothlórien.” I add, perhaps unnecessarily.

Haldir stops walking and turns to me, blinking once. Dread seizes in my chest. Oh no.

But his lips twitch and I realize he’s fighting a smile. “Lothlórien would be happy to host you, and I would be honored to escort you back.”

I beam, feeling nearly giddy with relief. Haldir relaxes and a hesitant smile brightens his face. The movement causes moonlight to reflect in his eyes. It sets them alight. I can’t believe I used to think them cold towards me — they are anything but. Guarded and suspicious at times, yes, but never cold. Not now that he’s gotten to know me, anyway. Instead, they are soft, gentle. And, exactly as Rumil had said, fond.

“Thank you.”

He inclines his head in that formal way of his, and the softness never leaves his eyes. He resumes his steps, leading us around the corner and into the labyrinthine garden.

I sneeze.

And again.

And again.

Haldir sputters out a ridiculous laugh, the sound so carefree and wild that I almost don’t mind having to sneeze to hear it.

“You’re allergic,” he accuses, gesturing to the flowers to our right.

I shrug, trying to ignore the tickling in my nose. “Just to some of them. Come on, I found an area earlier that’s not so bad.”

Haldir chuckles and shakes his head but follows me through the gardens. “Why did you want to come here if it just makes you sneeze?”

“Because it’s beautiful,” I answer simply. Because sometimes, that’s enough.

I find the alcove I discovered this morning and sit on the stone bench there, scooting over to make room for Haldir. He sits next to me, stretching out his long legs. Looking up at the sky, I can see stars through the wooden, flower-filled lattice that hangs above us. I sigh, finding the sight of the  sky sobering. “Do you know how I finally realized I was in another world?”

Haldir shakes his head, waiting for me to continue.

“The stars,” I murmur. “In almost every memory I have, I’m looking at the stars. I know their patterns, how they move with the seasons, the names of each constellation. I watched them my whole life. But that night in the plains—when you came looking for me by the river—I looked up and realized that I don’t know these stars. They’re not in the right order or in the proper places. And I knew, even if I wasn’t ready to accept it, that these aren’t the stars of my world.”

Haldir tilts his head to the side, watching me in silence. He twitches as if to move and then tenses, looking uncertain. But after a moment he sets his jaw and, in one fluid motion, stands and removes his cloak, laying it on the ground. He offers me a hesitant smile as he sits—the expression so at odds with his usual confidence that I half-gape at him in disbelief. He reclines slowly, leaving room for me to do the same.

I press my lips against a smile even though I can feel that I’m losing the battle. Okay. I rise from the bench and, taking great care not to step on Haldir’s fingers, lay down next to him.

The thick fabric of his cloak mitigates the coolness of the ground and I stretch out, feeling my back resting on the firm surface of the earth. Though we slept near each other outside every night for two weeks, there were more people, then. We were farther apart. Now, we are alone and, due to the width of the cloak, there is only a sliver of space between us. If I moved my arm even slightly to the right, it would touch his.

When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, gentle, and rumbles deep in his chest. “I have been watching these stars for centuries. They will become familiar to you, too. You only have to spend time with them.”

So I do.

Haldir and I lay on his cloak staring at the stars for hours. We don’t say much, only periodically mentioning something about our days or asking the other if they’re comfortable or cold. The newness of our proximity never fades, and I find myself hyper-aware of the warmth on the side of my body that nearly touches his. There’s a desire in me—something new and strange—to close that space between us, to rest my head on his chest and feel his arms hold me. I fight it, attempting to focus on what’s above me instead. He doesn’t seem to be struggling like I am.

At some point, I must slip into sleep. When Haldir gently nudges my shoulder, there’s a touch of early light in the sky. He smiles softly, offers me a hand up, and walks me to my room in silence. My efforts and sleep deprivation have left me exhausted. I barely remember climbing into bed and immediately fall back into a deep, dreamless sleep.

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs make me smile <3 Let me know if you’d like a tag! 

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[jeongyunhoed]

Past-Present-Future Black Dahlia

Two major tragedies bring Lee Mirae closer to the edge as she goes through the stages of grief in a more violent manner that would affect not only her relationships with her boyfriend Jeong Yunho and her half-brother Choi San, but also has her becoming closer with the immortal mutant Kang Yeosang. Fueled by rage, grief, and pain, along with a very rude awakening that has Mirae spiraling out of control and questioning everything she holds dear.

Group: ATEEZ Member: Yunho Pairing: Jeong Yunho / OC Genre: Action, adventure, angst, fantasy

Watch Out! : Violence, blood, death, grief and loss, major character deaths, use of weapons, some jealousy (but no cheating ofc), implied smut (not sure if there is any but i’m putting it out there nonetheless), mental illness (probably?), gambling and alcohol

Anything else? : Mentions of other idols of course as well as other characters. SuperM, Dean, Chanyeol, Zelo, soloist Park Jihoon to name a few.

Author’s Note: Again, interesting things happen when you wing it. Look out for a cool fight scene, I think one of the best fight scenes I’ve written if I do say so myself. It was a challenge to write Yunho’s though, spoiler alert. But I hope this chapter brings us closer to a possible conclusion, or at least gives us an idea of how things could end. 

Masterlist

Chapter 7

Yunho could see the horizon from where he stood, feeling the wind come east, swooping by him. This was where the portal brought him. One moment he was at the grounds of the school, and the next he was in this town that seemed deserted, looking like something out of an old western movie. It reminded him of the place where cowboys were, and for some reason, it reminded him of his time in Morocco. 

He needed to look for a way out, or a way back, realizing what he heard. Mirae had refused to join them, out of Ino getting Baekhyun out of the way, out of the fact that they probably wouldn’t keep their promise of getting him and San back to her. He knew what was going on, only he didn’t know how to get out and not even his teleporting might help as he didn’t know where to go. 

Yunho closed his eyes, trying to hear Mirae again in the hopes of reaching out to her. He wondered if her refusing Ino meant that she was back, back to being the person he knew her to be, if she was back to being the person who could only grieve without getting people hurt. 

As he opened his eyes, Yunho felt a strange pounding in his chest, as if he was nervous. The surroundings had changed, at least how the village he found himself in changed, as he could still see the same dirt road ahead. Everything was a lot more colorful, shades of blue mixed in with the shades of rust. The rest of the colors seemed to be in the fabrics of stalls near buildings that were castle-like. 

It was like he was back. Back in the place where his immortality, his mutant gene took effect. The only thing that seemed to be missing were the scorch marks and patches of blood, even his own wounds. 

Yunho remembered the days of hiding out, disguising himself countless times to blend in. But he also remembered the times his teleportation would fluctuate whenever he was hiding in dark street corners at night, unintentionally scaring off children. He felt a nervousness that he hadn’t felt in a while, a feeling of dread as he looked around the deserted village. 

“This is taking you back, isn’t it?” 

Ino suddenly appeared in front of him along with Ten. Yunho stopped in his tracks. “Mirae made the wrong decision in refusing to join us. I have to admit, I feel disappointed,” The elder male said. 

“You feel disappointed? What about Mirae? What about Hyuk? What about Chanyeol? What about us? You betrayed us, betrayed our trust!” Yunho’s voice was raised. “You think you have the right to feel betrayed? You?!” 

“Hyuk and Chanyeol’s deaths were the price to pay in order to move our agenda forward. It’s time mutants really had some influence in the world. We’ve got powers, everyone else does not. If a few mutants dying is part of the process, then so be it,” Ino insisted. 

“So all this time, the Ino that we know, the Ino that Mirae knows, is bent on power after all…” Yunho said quietly. “Then Mirae is right to want to get at you too. As a matter of fact, everyone else that’s in here does.” 

“It might be so, but just like Hyuk and Chanyeol, it is also a price to pay to move forward a greater cause, for mutantkind,” Ino said. 

“What does that make you? Are you the leader for all of us?” Yunho glared at him. 

“Uh, we’ll get around to that,” Ten pointed out. “We’ve yet to elect the leader of this...whatever this is.” 

“Well, I am quite powerful, Yunho. I thought you knew that,” Ino said. 

“What is this world coming to?” Yunho looked down. He tried to get to Mirae again. “Where is San? Where did you put him?” He asked. 

“Tsk tsk tsk, I can’t tell you that,” Ten smirked. “As much as I can’t tell you what you remember from looking at this place. Brings back memories, doesn’t it? That last mission you had, your life since that day. People you’ve met, people you’ve… killed. And as a result of your mutant ability too. Don’t think we don’t know where you’ve been.” 

“Old habits die hard,” Yunho replied, but he could feel a little tinge of discomfort at his words. 

“That, it does,” Ten was grinning. “I suppose by the way you’re just standing still, you know there is nothing you can do right now.” 

“There’s always something. Ino knows it too,” Yunho glanced at the elder male again. “All I know is, at least I’m not the one running away from Mirae.” 

Ino’s face remained stoic. “I’m no coward, Yunho.” 

“Yes you are. It doesn’t change the fact that you made everyone else do the dirty work, just like you allowed Baekhyun and Jongin to tamper with the Danger Room. You didn’t let them in, they had to figure it out for themselves. Just like how you did nothing when you knew something was wrong,” Yunho pointed out as if to taunt him.

“There is a fine line between strategy and cowardice.” 

“And you’ve blurred that line.” 

“Are we going to continue this little repartee?” Ten asked, rolling his eyes. “We have to go back. They’ll need you to start operations.” 

Yunho smirked. “There is always a way, Ino hyung. I’m not running away from Mirae, you are.” 

Ino and Ten returned to the portal, Yunho catching a glimpse of where they were going. An island. “We’ll be back,” Ten said over his shoulder, and the portal disappeared. 

~ 

Powdery white snow fell on San’s head as he tried to figure out where he was while keeping himself warm. He wasn’t sure what happened. One moment, he was at the grounds of the abandoned school, running towards Mirae who had called out to him, the next moment he was at a forked road of what was a snowy mountainside, without his harpoon on him. 

San wasn’t sure where he was either. He didn’t know if this was still part of the place that they were in, or if this was somewhere else entirely. All he knew was that he needed to go back to the grounds of the school or at least to the place where everyone else would be. 

He stood in the middle of the forked road. It seemed unlikely that cars or even people would be coming any moment, and it made him think of the possible outcomes if he chose one road. If he chose the one going up, he might have an idea of where to go. If he chose the road going forward, he would see what else he would have to deal with if he decided to go. 

San thought of Mirae, what she would do in a situation like this, and without another thought, he ran up the road going upwards, looking up from time to time to see how far he had to go. It wasn’t going to be that far, but he knew he didn’t have much time. San kept running, only to skid to a halt, almost falling over when he realized he dodged a dart. Looking at it closely, the dart looked very familiar, almost too familiar. 

“Choi San!” 

He felt a chill down his spine at the call of his name. The voice sounded just as familiar and looking at the dart and out from the view where he heard his name, he realized just how familiar the place he was in was. The more his name was called by that same voice, San broke into a run again, taking large strides up the road that would lead to the mountaintop. 

“I can’t be back here, I just can’t,” San muttered, unable to shake off the sudden pang of dread that came over him upon seeing the dart and from hearing the voice. His thoughts immediately went back to the road ahead and seeing that there wasn’t much distance left until he reached the top, his eyes and fingertips glowed. San jumped on to the side, his hands immediately boring holes into the rock with a faint crack as he climbed his way up, his feet then making use of the holes he made with his hands.

As soon as he reached the top, he saw a frozen pond, along with visibly empty tents and a broken down car. “Choi San!” He heard the voice call out to him again, and San whipped around, on alert of what may come at him from here. He could only feel the chill from the wind where he stood. 

“Gives you goosebumps, doesn’t it, the place where you came from, or, where you first ran away to.” 

San turned around. From the rocks appeared Taeyong, smirking. “Where am I?” He asked. 

“Ten thought we’d bring you back to a place familiar to you. We know more about you than you think, you know, and I didn’t even need to read your mind to know what’s happened to you before you uh, found your sister.” 

“I don’t have anything to prove to you, if you know what I’ve been through then you know what I’ve been through,” San said. “If you’re trying to get into my head right now, you’re not doing a very good job.” 

“Oh really?” Taeyong raised a brow. 

“Yeah,” San was smirking. “For instance, you probably don’t know the exact details of what happened in this place.” 

“You are insulting my intelligence,” His expression stiffened. 

“Good, because that means you really don’t know,” San reached into his pocket. 

“If you’re thinking of trying to kill me, think again,” Taeyong pointed to his temple. “Then again, it might be fun to see you try.” 

“Why don’t we try it then?” San grinned, quickly ducking out of the way when he saw shards of ice go his direction, crashing into the nearby trees. He kept running, skidding against the snow to kick the powdery ice into the psychic’s face, catching him off guard and making him fall over. “What’s the matter? Can’t keep up?” He taunted, picking up the buried chain he remembered close to the car, cracking the string of metal like a whip towards him. 

Taeyong kept backing away, sending the car up from its place and towards him. San’s eyes glowed bright as he whipped the vehicle away and making it fall to the ground, the car overheating as it fell back close to the edge of where they stood. 

Taeyong dismantled the tent, revealing what else was inside, the poles used to hold it up charging towards him. San whipped the metal poles away, catching one in time. “You’re being quite generous,” San grinned, striking the ground with the pole and sending a wave of energy. Taeyong fell over, turning into his diamond form. 

“You’re leaving me with no choice,” He said, getting back up and charging towards San, who quickly moved to wrap the chain around his neck, tugging on it tightly.

“You underestimate me. You forget to realize I am Mirae’s brother. I learned a few things from her,” San kept his hold on the psychic’s neck, squeezing the chains tied around him tightly. “Go ahead and turn back to normal, I dare you.” 

Taeyong coughed and sputtered while San kept his hold on the chains, until he burst into laughter. “Go ahead and try and kill me, my brother’s going to come after you.” 

“I’ll take that chance,” San’s eyes were still glowing and he pushed Taeyong back, the chains still on his neck as it exploded. He tossed a black disk he found in his pocket towards the explosion quick enough to whistle, the explosion growing bigger until it dissipated, with the psychic’s body on the ground. Or at least, remnants of him in his human form. San figured he tried to change back when he let go of the chain only to be met with the explosive disk he threw.  

The ground under his feet began to rumble, and San looked up, sensing the presence of more snow coming from above. The layer of snow from the peak of the mountain where he was broke off and began to slide downhill, towards where he was. San picked up the fabric used for the tent, smirking to himself at the items that he saw came from under it and jumped off the edge, using the fabric to glide down the mountain and onto the forest below. 

The rumbling grew louder as he saw the avalanche had settled onto where he was earlier. San landed on the ground, stumbling as he hit the snow, looking back up from where he came from. All he had to figure out was how to get out of the place. He wondered where Yunho was, and where the rest of them were. He needed to run. 

From a distance, he heard someone yell, followed by a strong gust of wind coming from the north. The sky had turned cloudy, coupled with thunder and lightning. “Taeyong!” San heard a booming voice from the same place. 

“Must be Taeyong’s brother,” San muttered to himself as he kept running, seeing a clearing ahead. The closer he got, the more he saw where it led to. A harbor, only the ocean was an inky black. 

~ 

Mirae stared at the ruins of the school. Now that Ino had disappeared, she had been staring at the buildings that had disintegrated because of her powers. Destruction was all she seemed to think about now that she knew who to look for. She could hear Yunho’s thoughts, having encountered Ino as he was trapped in a village Ten had created. Ino was a coward no matter how much he’d deny it. 

If they wanted a monster, they would get a monster. 

“Mirae?” Hongjoong was standing close by. 

“My dear?” Yeosang had called as well. He groaned in his place, parts of his dark hair already turning white. “I need to feed, we’re running out of time. Project Apocalypse will be activated.” 

“Save it for when we see them again then,” Seonghwa pointed out. 

Mirae didn’t speak, and Wooyoung could tell what she was feeling. It made him step forward as well. “Mirae? I know you’re hurting, and I can tell how you’re feeling…” He tried to say it as carefully as possible. 

Her eyes were welling with tears. What am I without Hyuk? Without Chanyeol? Without Jihoon? Without Yunho? Without San? She thought, as she observed the cracks in the ground. “Like a monster,” She muttered. 

Wooyoung shook his head. “No. I know you feel like you’ve lost everyone you love, but I can tell you. I promise you, Mirae, you didn’t lose everyone-” 

“It’s so easy for you to say that, isn’t it?” Mirae glanced at him. 

“No, it’s not. Well, in a way, it is, but that’s not the point,” Wooyoung said. “I’ve sensed what is most likely going to happen, and we’ll get them back, Yunho and San.” 

Mirae looked down again, her eyes and fingertips glowing. Hongjoong exchanged looks with Wooyoung, and he approached her, the rest of them carefully following behind. “My dear, your shadowy friend is right,” Yeosang spoke. “I know how you feel.” 

“No you don’t,” Mirae shook her head, facing them. “You have no fucking idea how I feel right now.” 

“That’s fair, maybe we don’t,” Hongjoong said. “But Wooyoung’s point still stands. You didn’t lose everyone as much as they’re trying to make you think. You still have Yunho, you still have San, you still have executive Kang, whatever he is to you,” He turned to the vampiric-looking mutant, frowning slightly at the changes in his appearance. “You still have us too.” 

“We followed you here. Teamwork like ours, it’s not something that can just go away, we’ve all been through the same thing in that sanitarium, remember?” Seonghwa said. “Junhong is still here too. He’s waiting for us in the van right now. Mirae, you’re not as alone as you think you are, as they think you are. You still have us.” 

“Mirae, please,” Mingi’s expression fell.

“We, all of us, haven’t been together again for a while,” It was Jongho’s turn to speak. “We’d honestly still be lost if it weren’t for the three of you finding us again.” 

Yeosang put his hand on her shoulder, Mirae sensing the coldness of his touch even through her clothes. “For so long, I have pushed away so many people, thinking that this was the only way to survive. That was until I met you. All of us here are with you, my dear. Even your technology-affiliated friend who is waiting for us outside. We will get Yunho and San back, I promise you. I only ask that you not make the same mistake towards everyone else who has grown to care for you.”

“Come with us. Please,” Hongjoong said quietly. “...We need our leader back. Just like old times.” 

“I wish it was that simple,” Mirae said.

“And it is. It can be simple, my dear,” Yeosang said. “Come with us, my dear Mirae. I promise you, you have not lost everyone you love as much as they’re trying to make you think you have.” 

Mirae glanced at all of them, seeing how their expressions were all hopeful that maybe, just maybe, their words had gotten through to her. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she wasn’t feeling that bubbling anger inside her, as if it was slowly getting replaced by a feeling of calm that she couldn’t quite comprehend. The feeling of calm was similar to what she felt after that time Jihoon died, along with her adoptive parents.  

It made her think of them. It made her think of what Chanyeol and Hyuk would’ve done. A part of her wanted to stay angry, but another part of her, a bigger part of her, knew that Chanyeol and Hyuk would never want her to turn out the way she was acting right now. She knew not even Jihoon would be cheering for her with all the damage she had caused so far. It seemed to be a relief that not even her home, back in the city, was damaged yet at this point. 

“One of these days, we’ll do a mission again, just the three of us.”

“Yeah, someone needs to watch your back this time. You nearly got your powers taken away.” 

“Lee Mirae, you’re getting sappy.” 

“Even with the way things ended back then. I’m glad the three of us found each other.” 

Mirae closed her eyes, remembering the last conversations she had with them. Hot tears trickled down her face. “I really wish it was that simple,” She whispered. “I want them back.” 

Yeosang could only keep his hand on her shoulder, unsure of whether to go nearer but sensing that Hongjoong was already doing the same. “I know you do. Hyuk hyung, Chanyeol hyung, I know you want them back, but they're in a much better place now, don’t you think?”

“Just as much as I want them back too,” Mirae said, making the rest of them stare at her, realizing what she meant. 

~ 

Yunho stopped in his tracks as he stepped out of one dark place to another in the village he was in. He heard her thoughts, heard what was going on with her. A small smile played across his lips, realizing what she said, why she was reaching out to him at this time. She was back, at least it seemed like it. 

Yunho ran towards another shadowy alley, trying to teleport, picturing the abandoned school, only to end up in another alley just by seeing the colored kaftans hanging from the two-floored houses he was surrounded by. 

Before he could teleport again, Mark appeared and kicked him out of the alley. “Jeong Yunho is it?” He said, seeing Yunho slide down the road, a scratch evident in his face only for it to heal completely. “A fellow external, this is excellent.” 

“Yeah, what about it?” Yunho got back up on his feet. “You do know we can actually kill each other, right?” 

“I am very well aware. Yeosang’s already weakening, it’s your turn,” Mark kicked him again and disappeared, reappearing behind the taller and punching him. Yunho stumbled to the side but quickly got back up, figuring out where Mark would reappear next. 

Yunho smirked. “Two can play this game,” He closed his eyes, letting his instincts guide him on where the other male would reappear. Before he knew it, he reappeared in another alley, and in another, and another, realizing that the sky was getting dark. “Let’s play hide and seek then! You hide and I’ll seek!” He called out, teleporting from one spot to another, stopping at the empty fountain. 

“With pleasure,” Mark reappeared, only for the taller to grab him by the collar, both of them teleporting from one spot to another in the midst of their scuffle. Yunho kept his grip on Mark, punching him several times until kicking him, the two of them reappearing and landing on opposite directions. “We have all night, Yunho, give up already?” 

“I’m just getting started,” Yunho charged towards Mark, only to vanish halfway through the run, reappearing in a puff of black smoke behind the shorter, tackling him into a headlock. “Losing your touch already, old man?” He taunted, the shorter coughing and sputtering. “Try and teleport, I’m going with you all the way.” 

Mark groaned and sucker punched him, but Yunho kept his hold on him as they teleported from one place to another. “You realize while I’m here, the rest of my friends are already trying to activate Project Apocalypse as we speak,” He coughed, trying to break free but his strength was waning. 

“Trying, they’re only trying,” Yunho kept his hold. “You tell me where the hell am I and where San is and I might just let you live,” He threatened. “You should be familiar with what happened here, since all of you know things about me.” 

“That I am,” Mark sucker punched him again before trying to poke his eyes. Yunho ducked in time to throw him off, running into another shadowy part of the place and disappearing. “This is testing my patience,” He cracked his knuckles and reappeared inside what looked like the inside of a blockhouse that he knew was still within the village. 

Mark looked around, trying to sense a presence within the confined walls of the fortified space. “You really think Mirae’s going to go back to you?” He called out. “She’s far down the rabbit hole of her rage. But I am amazed that Yeosang got through to her more than her own boyfriend,” He said, removing the blankets and the sheets from the nearby beds. “Based from your thoughts and memories, she thought you were looking the other way. I can’t blame either of you, though. Both of you seem to be much better apart than you are together-” 

Yunho had reappeared behind him, kicking him before he could teleport and knocking him down, the taller quickly kicking his leg to keep him down. “You were saying?” He asked. “Get us out of here, why don’t you?” 

Mark smirked. “Bold of you to assume I will easily give in to that.” 

“Want to bet?” Yunho kicked his other leg down, hearing the bones crack. “You teleport, I teleport with you.” 

“Alright, alright,” Mark groaned, the pain in his legs still present as he faced the taller male. “It’s clear that we are evenly matched at the moment,” He crawled to his feet, only for Yunho to pull him back down by the ankle. 

“I don’t think it’s even at the moment,” Yunho kicked his leg down again, making him yelp in pain. “You’re going to take me to Mirae, and you’re going to bring San back, do you understand? But first, I need information.” 

“Do you really think torturing me is going to get me to tell you where Project Apocalypse is located?” Mark gave him a look. 

“We’re both immortals, we’ve got the rest of our never-ending lives, and we’ve got the time, you might as well tell me,” Yunho drove his foot further into Mark’s leg. “I’ve certainly got the time to break these bones over and over again.” 

“Alright! I will have to concede in this battle,” Mark spat. “If you had any knowledge in how plans like these work, you would’ve already figured out by now that the rest of the country will be seeing our entrance soon.” 

“Mhmm,” Yunho got the idea, but he still drove his foot down on Mark’s broken leg. “Where there?” 

“The city, where else? Seoul itself is about to see once more what happens when powerful mutants like ourselves can take power.”

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch35: Not A Perfect Soldier, But A Good Man.

Summary: Almost twelve moths post the vents in Siberia, the four friends are reunited with two familiar faces. Presented with an opportunity that they find too good to turn down, they find themselves back running missions off radar, one of which takes Steve to a dark place within himself, where he finds himself compromising his moral code. 

And then his phone rings…

Warnings: Bad language, Smut! (NSFW, Under 18s) Bad Language words. Mentions of rape/sexual assault.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: Wonderful edit again from @angrybirdcr. And make sure you check out the related one shot- Vanilla, which takes place during this timeframe.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 34

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

June 2017

“Well as far as birthdays on the run go guys, this one’s been the best one I’ve ever had!” Katie grinned as they climbed out of their 4x4 at the Safe house.

Steve and Sam exchanged a look over the roof of the car.

“What?” Katie asked, innocently.

“I can’t tell if that was sarcasm or…” Sam looked at Steve before he turned back to Katie pushing his sunglasses up onto the top of his head. “No, honestly guys I’ve had a great morning.” She smiled at them. “Breakfast was amazing, it was a nice walk round the castle, the sun is out and now we have a BBQ to get fired up!”

It was almost a year now since they’d been on the run. After a brief few months apart where Katie and Steve had been in Wakanda, Sam had been flitting round a few old friends and Wanda had been travelling with Vision, they had all reunited at the end of May, Wanda bringing with her some rather interesting news.

“I did find some stuff out.

Apparently Tony hasn’t spoken to Ross properly in months. When you guys broke out the raft, Ross called him for help and he put him on hold for hours.” Katie looked at Steve, both of them sharing a grin.

“It didn’t go down well. They had a huge bust up and apparently Tony told him to err, and I quote ‘go fuck himself’.” Wanda said, smiling slightly. Steve snorted as she continued. “Said he didn’t answer to SHIELD, the Government or anyone else.”

A pang of affection and guilt hit Katie’s chest. Even after everything her brother was still watching her back. She looked down at her food and blinked, the tears threatening to fall out of her eyes.

“He’s err, he and Pepper, they’re getting married.” Wanda hesitated and Katie took a deep breath.

“Wow, he finally did it.” She whispered, not looking up as she pushed a piece of carrot round her plate, swallowing thickly. “That’s…”

“How’s Rhodes?” Sam asked, changing the subject swiftly and Steve gave him a look of thanks across the table, as he gently reached over and wrapped his hand around the back of Katie’ s neck, giving it a gentle squeeze of affection before his thumb gently began to trace shapes on the soft skin just beneath her hair line. She looked at him and smiled. 

“I’m okay.” She assured him “Honestly.”

Steve kept his hand were it was nonetheless as Wanda continued talking.

“Rhodey is good, the braces he has mean he can walk.” At that Sam looked down, Steve glanced at him. He knew he felt guilty about what had happened.

“And that’s it really.” Wanda shrugged. “Nothing else to report.”

“Glad to hear everyone’s doing good.” Katie nodded. “So you want to see Vision again?”

“I know it might seem odd, or even dangerous.” Wanda mused, “And we’re still at odds over the Sokovia Accords, but yeah, I do.” “Odds?” Steve asked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he still seems to think that the Accords were right. So, we’ve kind of just agreed not to talk about them. But, even with that, well I just can’t be without him.”

“We love who we love.” Steve said wisely, “If we’re lucky they share our feelings as well as our lives.”

“Like you two you mean?” Sam snorted looking at Steve and Katie “You two are so in tune, sometimes I think you’re actually reading each, others minds.” “How do you know we’re not?” Katie grinned and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Like I said, lucky.” Steve shrugged, pressing a kiss to the side of Katie’s head as he moved his arm from around the back of her and carried on with his food.

“No one should keep you from him if that’s how you feel.” Katie looked at Wanda. “That’s the last thing we would ever want.”

“Yeah you go ahead.” Sam snarked, pulling Katie’s attention back to the here and now. “We’ll grab the bags, don’t worry about it.” “Thanks Sam, you’re a darling.” Katie grinned over her shoulder.

Sam sighed and shook his head. “A fucking liberty, that’s what this is! You wanna remind her of those ground rules, Steve.”

“You remind her.” Steve shot back as they watched the two women head unlock the door to the house.

“You scared of your Missus, Pal?”

“Yes.” Steve said simply and Sam laughed, before he turned and opened the trunk of the car. 

In the house, Katie walked through the small porch and into the living room and immediately stilled. There was something wrong, something she couldn’t put her finger on. Holding an arm out to Wanda she stopped the younger girl and looked at her. Understanding straight away, Wanda’s familiar red tendrils began glowing from her hands. As Katie looked around, unable to shake the feeling that someone or something was there, her eyes fell on a bottle on the coffee table, a bottle that hadn’t been there when they left this morning.

Beluga gold line vodka.

Katie felt her lips curve into a smile “You can come out now.” She stated simply, not bothering to turn round. “You know, I thought spies were supposed to be subtle.”

“Who says I was trying to be?” A familiar voice drawled, causing Wanda to spin round, her mouth falling open in surprise as Natasha stepped out of the smaller living room at the far side of the house.  

Katie turned and looked her friend over. “That why you cut all your hair off and dyed it blonde?”

“Changes is as good as the next.” Nat smirked.

“Good to see you Widow.” Katie beamed, striding over to her and pulling her into a hug.

“You too.” Natasha smiled, squeezing her back. “Happy birthday, Nova.”

Katie released her and Nat turned to Wanda, wrapping her up in a hug too. “I’m telling you man.” Sam’s voice filled the room as he and Steve walked into the house each carrying bags of groceries and snacks for their BBQ “She was putty in my hands. If he hadn’t turned up I’d have-MOTHER FUCKER!” He yelled, dropping the bags he was carrying as he spotted Natasha.

“Nice to see you too, Birdbrain.” She smiled before her face turned to Steve “Rogers.” “Nat?” He blinked in surprise, setting the bags he was carrying down a little more gently than Sam. “Dare I ask how you knew where to find us?” The corner of his mouth quirked up in a small, amused smile “Fury.” She shrugged. “Finished the loose ends I needed to tie up and had to make a swift exit, so he told me where you were. Thought I’d come and see how you were all getting along.” “We’re just peachy.” Sam smiled as he stepped forward opening his arms, “Come on not-so-red-anymore, bring it in.” She gave a huff and then stepped into his arms before she turned to Steve who smiled at her as he pulled her into a huge bear hug.

“I like this.” She leaned back, pulling at his beard and he jerked his head way out of her reach, arching an eyebrow at her. What was it with people and thinking they could just touch his face now he had a beard? That was something reserved for his wife and his wife only. Katie laughed, noticing his irritation as Natasha continued. “Hardly recognised you.” “Well that is the point.” He rolled his eyes.

“Are you sticking around?” Sam asked.

“Well I got nothing else to do.” Nat shrugged. Katie and Steve exchanged a grin, her blasé tone didn’t fool them. She looked tired and slightly shaken, so whatever mission she’d been working on had clearly been tough.

“Well in that case…” Katie picked up the bottle of vodka that was on the table. “How about we crack this open whilst the boys get the grill going?”

A couple of hours later they were full of BBQ meat, salads, potatoes, vodka, beer and juicy information. Whilst Natasha didn’t tell them much about what she had been up to in Russia, she did fill them in on what SHIELD was doing. 

“They’re calling themselves the ‘In-Human Resistance’.” Natasha explained as she showed them a few photos of the growing Vigilante group on a tablet, a group that seemed to be fast gaining traction in America. “They staged an attack in LA and Miami recently. Both at the same time, co-ordinated.”

“They’re fighting registration with the Sokovia Accords?” Steve asked, taking a pull from his bottle of beer.

Natasha nodded.

“Those damned accords have already caused more trouble than they’re ever gonna solve.” Sam said shaking his head. “First the ‘Watchdogs’ emerge to fight In-Humans, now this group emerge to fight them back.”

“This was always going to happen. SHIELD monitored Enhanced beings and In-humans.”  Katie shrugged. “And it worked without the need for any stupid laws.”

”Yeah, so now the plan is that SHIELD are going to go legit. Come out into the open again.”

At that Katie raised her eyebrows. “And Coulson?” “No.” Natasha said, “Coulson will be in the shadows, the public director is going to be a bloke called Jeffrey Mace. He seems a decent guy.” “You know him?” Katie asked.

“Met him briefly. He was at the Accord signings in Vienna as a journalist would you believe it?” “Well he will know how to work the PR angle.” Wanda spoke for the first time in a while and Katie looked at her. She was pushing a piece of potato round on her plate, absentmindedly, no doubt wondering what would happen to her if she ever was caught with all the new rules and hatred being pushed out towards Enhanced or In-humans.

“They’re calling him Patriot.” Natasha said, and she looked at Steve, smirking slightly “Brooklyn boy, just like you Cap. Volunteered for some experiment that would give him super human strength in the wake of the Vienna bombing.” Steve let out a groan “Have SHIELD not learnt anything?”

“You had a lucky escape.” Nat quipped “If you hadn’t been on the run, they’d have been asking you to lead them from the front. Coulson wanted an enhanced person to run in the public eye, drum up support, show the world that they’re not to be feared.” “Nothing more than bullshit, political games.” Sam scoffed, and Natasha raised her eyebrows in agreement.

“Which we, thankfully, are well out of.” Steve leaned back, although Katie could see the nerve ticking in his jaw.

“Are you? Thankful, I mean?” Nat asked and Steve looked at her, frowning. “You not missing being in the thick of it at all?” He didn’t answer. If truth be told he couldn’t, not really. Some days he missed the action, missed having a job to do as such. Whilst he’d helped out occasionally for a bit for cash at the harbour, casual labour and muscle when they needed it, it wasn’t nearly challenging enough.

“What are you saying Nat?” Katie asked. Natasha sighed and leaned back.

“Fury isn’t working as part of SHIELD at the moment, not directly anyway.” She looked at her. “He’s running a few jobs off radar. At the moment he’s currently tracking a few old arms dealers that seem to be back trading old SHIELD and Chitauri stuff. Turns out in the wake of the Avengers being disbanded they all started getting brave again.” “Who’d have thought it?” Katie snorted sarcastically as she chewed at her lip. Steve and her had held this very conversation in Wakanda, wondering how long it would be before the groups they had all but eradicated emerged again in the wake of their split.

“So is that why you’re here?” Steve eyed her suspiciously “Fury wants you to recruit us?” “No.” Nat shook her head, before she smiled at Steve. “He’s going to do that himself when he drops by tomorrow.”

*****

"Why don’t you ask one of the ‘registered heroes’ for help?” Steve raised his eyebrows at Fury as the man finished explaining what he wanted the group to work on.

Fury scoffed. “Whilst SHIELD is of course, in full cooperation with the Accords, this case isn’t exactly on their radar right now.”

“What you mean is, that if it becomes public knowledge that more Chitauri and SHIELD weapons are emerging it will damage what little reputation SHIELD have managed to claw back.” Katie folded her arms. “Because they shouldn’t have ever let it get to this because you should have gotten rid of it all in the first place.”

“Look, Nova.” Fury was quick to reply. "I don’t like this any more than you do, and yes, in hindsight there are a lot of things that SHIELD should have destroyed or shut down back in the day, but I wasn’t the only one making those calls. Pierce had a lot of sway.”

“So effectively you want us to protect SHIELD’s reputation?” Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Why should we do that?” Wanda asked, looking at Fury “Where were you when we needed you?”

“She has a point.” Sam looked at Fury “I mean, I don’t remember SHIELD jumping to our defence after we risked everything to get to Siberia.”

Fury looked at Steve who simply raised his eyebrows. Both he and Katie agreed with Sam, they had expected at least some help from the Director but it never came. 

Or so they thought.

“Just who do you think it was that leaked to the press exactly what went down between you all?” Fury asked, leaning back in his chair. Katie felt her mouth curl up in a smile.

“That was you? Huh, I assumed it was Murdock.” “Well to assume makes an ass of you and me.” Fury quipped, looking at her. “Furthermore, thanks to me there’s currently a group of bounty-hunters sweating their asses off looking for you all in Cairo.”

Steve and Katie exchanged glances before they looked at Sam then Wanda.

“And I’ll continue to help leave false trails as I still believe in you all.” Fury looked at them each in turn “The Accords, this entire situation, yes, it’s a mess but I’m still hoping you guys care enough to want to keep fighting the good fight.”

Katie glanced at Natasha who had remained quiet through the entire discussion. She simply raised an eyebrow and gave a small smile.

“Think about it.” Fury stood up. “Romanoff knows how to contact me. When you’ve made your decision, let me know.”

He headed for the door before he turned back and looked at Katie.

“Oh, and Nova, that final trick you pulled, hacking into the CTU. It worked.”

Katie smiled and gave a small ‘huh’ of laughter and watched the man depart through the same door he’d arrived little over an hour previously.

“Okay, colour me intrigued, what did you hack the UN for?” Natasha looked at Katie and Steve tilted his head as his wife gave a coy smile.

“Technically it was Lawson. When he was digging up the information on the illegal arrests I had him wipe all the records of who accessed their evidence vault when all our gear got broken so Sharron didn’t get into trouble.”

Steve’s mouth quirked up into a small smile as he looked at his wife, once again unable to believe how downright clever she was.

“Wait.” Wanda said, frowning “Why did you do that?” “She’s a Carter.” Katie shrugged as if that was supposed to make sense. And it did to Steve and Natasha but as Sam and Wanda looked at her blankly she took a deep breath and explained “After everything Peggy did in the SSR, founding SHIELD, working with my dad, she deserves for her name and legacy to remain unsullied.”

She locked eyes with Steve who could do nothing but simply look at her, his face soft before he smiled “You really are amazing you know that?”

After an afternoon spent deliberating over Fury’s proposal, Steve told them all to sleep on it and they would make their final decision in the morning, but as he found out at three am, sleep was doing it’s very best to evade him completely.    

“Something on your mind, Soldier?” Katie murmured sleepily as he turned over in bed for what felt like the tenth time in as many minutes. With a sigh he reached out and brushed her hair behind her ear.

“Sorry sweetheart, didn’t mean to wake you.” he said. “I just can’t get what Fury said outta my head.” “And even after I tried my best to make you forget as well.” she quipped and he smiled, leaning over to give her a soft kiss. She gave a soft hmmm of contentment before he pulled away and propped himself up on his elbow

"What do you think we should do?”

“Well, we could ignore it, keep laying low.” she elaborated, with a small yawn “But I know you. And whilst you’ve managed it for a year it hasn’t been easy, and don’t try and pretend you’ve been okay because I know you Steven.” He gave a small snort and looked at her as she continued “And now you know that there’s still stuff to mop up, you’re gonna find it even harder to walk away.”

"I would for you. You know that.”

“But is that what you really want?” she sighed. “Not particularly, no.” he answered honestly. “I want to help but, well, I’m no longer Captain America.”

"Meh, he was an asshole anyway.” she grinned and he gave a snort. “But you ARE Steve Rogers, the, and I quote your best friend here ‘dumbass little blonde punk that couldn’t run away from a fight.” Steve felt himself smile at Bucky’s words. “Long before the serum and the shield, you were standing up for the little guys, for what you thought was right. Okay, you were getting your ass kicked doing it, but still.”

She shrugged and Steve looked down at the silhouette of her face, and he knew she was right. He brought his hand up and with the back of his fingers gently brushed down her right cheek. 

“And you’d be okay with it?” he asked.

“Well, neither of us left the Avengers because we wanted to. So until this blows over…” “If it blows over.” “Steven.” she spoke sternly, and he could tell by the tone of her voice she was glaring at him, even if he couldn’t see her face fully. She was still clinging to some hope that the entire situation would go away, whereas Steve was much more a realist about it all.  “Until this blows over, then, maybe we could, or should keep fighting the good fight. Because that’s what we do best.”

“A band of vigilantes, huh?” He quirked an eyebrow. “Or if we’re getting paid are we mercenaries?”

“Pretty sure mercenaries don’t have ethics behind what they’re doing.” Katie snorted “No, we’ll be, erm, the ‘Nomad Law Enforcers’, NLE for short” she shrugged and he let out a laugh.

As his chuckles died down she gently reached up to stroke his face, his bearded cheek leaning into her touch.

“So, does that mean my new code name is Captain Badass?” He asked, his hand straying down to brush across her bare stomach. “No” She smiled, twitching at the touch “That’s a name only I get to say. Along with Stevie.” “Hate to break it to you, Darlin’ but Buck was calling me Stevie way before you were a twinkle in your pa’s eyes.” he said, his fingers now trailing the inside of her thigh. “Maybe so,” she snaked her arms round his neck and pulling his face down to hers, “but did he ever say it to you like I do, you know, in your ear as I’m about to c-”

“Err no.” he grinned, kissing her on the lips “That one’s all yours, doll.”

“Think you should make me say it now.” she quipped.

“As you wish, ma’am.” he smirked, rolling over on top of her, making her giggle before he cut her off by pressing his lips to hers in a fevered kiss.

The next morning around breakfast they informed the rest of the team what their decision was. Natasha shrugged and said she was in already anyway. Wanda agreed as she had nothing else to do but in the same breath Katie could tell she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea, so Steve told her that she could dip in and out and didn’t have to do anything she wasn’t happy about. When the only decision left was Sam’s, the man leaned back in his chair with a smirk and nodded. And whilst Steve thought the name Katie had come up with last night for their band of rag-tag heroes was ridiculous, it was ten times better than the offering Sam made.

“The Avengers Secret Society. ASS.” He grinned, draining his coffee mug. “Hell, I’m in. Where do I sign?”

******

Running the missions meant a lot of stealth and covert work, which in turn meant they had to leave the safe house they had called home for over a year for long periods, often months at a time. During those weeks they stayed either in motels or other safe houses which Fury or Natasha had access to in various places across the world as they intercepted various arms trades and took down both buyers and dealers alike. The rest of 2017 past them by in a blur now they were busy. Wanda dipped in and out, choosing sometimes to remain in the safe-house and others she would disappear to meet Vision but always kept them up to date on where she was so they could keep tracks on her. Katie was glad she was getting out and seeing the world, even if she did worry about her from time to time.

As far as lifestyles went, it was tough, hard going, but Katie could see Steve’s sparkle and drive was back in abundance. For the most the missions went without a hitch. Yes, they took knocks, broken noses, cut lips, bust ribs…but it came with the territory, and they all felt good to be back feeling like they were making a difference even if they were doing it unofficially from the shadows. And given that they were indeed vigilantes, they all removed any Avengers symbols from their suits to avoid Tony or the guys back at the compound being dragged into any further political row.

Katie and Natasha ditched their Avenger cat suits entirely, opting for leather cargo pants, jackets and combat vests whilst Sam acquired a new upper body suit for his now battered but sill functional wings. Steve had ripped the star on his uniform from his chest, which was down to a combination of wanting to stay off radar but also because of the fact that he simply wasn’t Captain America anymore, and therefore wasn’t comfortable bearing his insignia. It just didn’t feel right to be operating wearing the symbols once used when they were part of their old team. They were a painful reminder of just what it was that had brought them to this moment, how much they had lost and given up because they were not the Avengers anymore. And this also reflected in the way they operated. They were a lot less sympathetic with their fighting style and they did what they needed to do to get the job done, no more, no less- “Whatever it takes…” as Steve put it. And whilst the Captain still did his best to keep the casualties and fatalities to the minimum, that went completely out of the window one February morning in Jordan. 

They were tracking a suspected group of ex- Hydra stragglers that were, according to Fury’s intelligence, operating a lab with the aim of using a piece of SHIELD technology to manufacture weapons. They’d staked the place out over the last three days or so, and from what they could gather it was a pretty amateur operation all in all, so they didn’t meet much resistance when they stormed the place. Sam and Natasha took one side of the building, Steve and Katie the other. It didn’t take them long to clear out and restrain the hostiles and they set about sweeping the place for any devices they needed to recover before Natasha made her way down to the lab to lay the bombs that would destroy it once everyone was clear.

Steve and Katie made their way down a smaller corridor of the back of the main room whilst Sam and Natasha started to pack up the items they had come for and they reached a fork at the end. Katie went left, Steve went right. He hit a dead end pretty quickly, there only being one more room and that was completely empty. Katie, however had three rooms to look in. The first two were empty, and the third one led off to another smaller room at the back. Scanning round, she assumed the room was clear and headed through into the smaller one, kicking the door open. There was nothing in there bar filing cabinets. Seeing as she was there, she started to pull them open to see if there was anything useful, but it was all older paper work, nothing of interest. Slamming the drawer shut she heard a noise behind her, the cock of a gun and then a voice which made her freeze.

“Back for more you little SHIELD slut?”

That voice took her right back to that painfully bright cell with the hard bed, and the even harder floor.

“You like that don’t you, yeah?” His face was contorted as he grunted whilst he pounded painfully, mercilessly into her over and over again, her wrists painfully held above her head, his weight pressing onto her battered and bruised body which he had played a major part in beating before having joined in the kicking and stamping with glee. “God, she’s so fuckin’ tight…”

She spun round to look at the man who had violated her numerous times, his face exactly the same, wearing the same predatory sneer. Her fists clenched at her side as she weighed up her options, she could probably take him now, even with the gun.

But she hesitated too long.

Her rapist smirked as he raised the gun, keeping it trained on her as he took half a step forward and automatically she moved backwards, her body pressing against the metal of the filing cabinet.

“What? Still no scream?” He chuckled. “You know, we used to have a competition, see which one of us would be the one that made you finally break. But, I gotta hand it to you, you never made a sound. Frankly, it kind of became a bit boring. I’ve had better lays from my palm.” It was then that Katie noticed a movement behind him and looked over his shoulder to see Steve stood in the doorway with a look on his face that Katie had never seen before. Unadulterated anger, rage and fury radiated from every single bit of his body as he stared at the back of the man’s head, his lips curling up into an ugly sneer, a flash of white teeth glinting in the dim white from beneath his beard. “Whatever happens tomorrow you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier, but a good man.”

Steve remembered those words like Dr Erskine had spoken them just yesterday. And for the most part he had lived by them, trying every day to be a man that people could look up to. Years of loss and grief and fighting had made it hard but he had never killed in cold blood and, if possible he always went for the non-fatal take downs. But now, as he heard the words the man in front of him said to his wife as she stood, pressed against the cabinet at the far wall, her chest heaving, eyes wide with a hatred so fierce but yet an unmistakable glimmer of fear underneath it all, he knew exactly who this guy was.

This was one of the animals that had violated her. 

And he wanted to kill the fucker.

At the sight of her husband Katie instantly relaxed, she was safe. There was nothing the bastard in front of her could do to her, not whilst Steve was there. The man saw her change in posture, and frowned as she looked back at him and smirked slightly.

“You want a fight, it’s your lucky day, although I don’t fancy your chances much.” 

She nodded behind her and the man wheeled round fast but he didn’t’ even get chance to point his gun at Steve before the Super Soldier’s fist connected hard with his face, knocking out his front teeth. He staggered backwards and Katie was waiting with a well- aimed leg swipe which sent him crashing to the floor. As he went to push himself up Steve brought his large, boot clad foot down and stomped with all his might on his left hand.

”They broke my fingers and took my rings…” Katie’s voice echoed around his mind as he stamped again, and again before he picked the HYDRA agent up by the collar and smashed his head straight onto the desk.

The man lay groaning in pain on the floor, spitting out blood as he pitifully begged for mercy and Steve allowed him to crawl a few feet away before he kicked him hard in the ribs, stalking him, toying with him, as a cat does with its prey. But like all cats, eventually Steve got bored and hauled him back up again. He spun the snivelling piece of shit round so his back was clamped to his chest, one large forearm over the guy’s throat, palm of the other hand clamped his forehead, pinning him in place and forcing him to look at Katie for no reason other than the fact he wanted her face to be the last thing the bastard’s shitty, Hydra supporting eyes ever looked at.

All the anger Steve felt at how they had abused his wife, his beautiful girl, speared red hot inside him as he remembered the state she’d been in when they’d picked her up. How long it had taken her to heal physically. And all those nights he had held her close after she woke from a nightmare. He’d sworn to himself he would die before he let anyone hurt her again. 

“She told me you did to her.” Steve’s voice was steely, as he spoke into the man’s ear. “You abused her, tortured her, beat her and laughed about it. But now who’s laughing? Look how alive she is, how beautiful and strong she is. How she survived, which is more than you’re gonna do.”

At those words the man, who was groaning to himself began to struggle again, begging for his life. Steve merely tightened his grip.

“I want you to know that you dying is simply because of what you did to my wife. So fuck HYDRA and fuck you.” He snarled, and with a quick, savage twist of his arms, Katie heard the snap and the man grew limp, his neck broken in one, easy movement.

Steve tossed the dead man unceremoniously to the floor, his chest heaving as he looked down at the body on the floor. He’d just killed someone in cold blood. And he didn’t care one single bit.

Katie watched her husband as he looked down at the dead man, utter disgust on his face and she felt a ridiculous surge of affection for her soldier. She knew he’d grappled with the fact he had, in his opinion, failed to keep her safe and, no matter how many times she told him he was ridiculous, she would never convince him otherwise. He’d just abandoned all moral code he had, killing someone out of no reason but the desire for revenge because he loved her. 

He loved her enough to kill someone that had hurt her. As she watched, Steve raised his head to look at her. "You okay?” He asked, his voice full of concern, not a shred of the anger or hatred it had been filled with before was left. She nodded.

“Come on.”  He held out his hand. She stepped over the body on the floor, laced her fingers into his, but they hadn’t even reached the door of the outer room they’d walked through when she pulled on his arm and as he turned to face her, she grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down to her, furiously kissing him, teeth clashing, beard scratching-fuck she loved the feel of that- as she emptied every single emotion she was feeling into his mouth. She pulled away and rest her head against his, desire flooding her system, some dark inner part of her had awoken at his merciless persona and he spotted it, a curious tilt of his head to the side told her so much. “Steve, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m filing for divorce.” He arched an eyebrow “Divorces are messy, we can’t have that.” and the words were barely out of his mouth before he had spun her round, slamming her against the wall, kissing her hard again, groaning as she grasped his growing erection through his combat trousers.

“Right here?” He growled and she nodded eagerly, already fumbling with his utility belt. The clanging of buckles, zipping of trousers and the rustling of fabric filled the air as they both shed the minimum amount of clothing they needed to so that Katie could wrap her legs around Steve’s waist as he lifted her up by the back of her thighs, pressing her against the wall whilst he continued to kiss her neck, biting and sucking at any bit he could get to. He didn’t waste any time before he thrust up into her hard, making her cry out.

It was almost depraved, them fucking with a dead body in the room next to them, but neither of them cared, they were too caught up in a whirlwind of lust and emotions that enveloped them completely. Steve’s hips snapped back and forth with a pace and a vigour that was merciless as he pistoned in and out of her again and again. Her palms were scrabbling at the wall behind her trying to gain some traction and Steve quickly pushed further against her to give her more support so she could move her hands round his shoulders, where she clawed desperately at the material of his uniform as her head fell forward and her teeth nipped at his ear drawing a growl from his throat. Her hands moved into his long hair, where she pulled sharply back causing him to hiss and look up her and the pupils of her eyes were blown wide with a desire he would never tire of seeing.  She pushed her hips down against him causing him to drive deeper and she let out an almost primal cry he had never, in their almost five years of being together, heard her make before. It simply revved him up even more, his rapid movements growing even more urgent.

“Fuck, Stevie,” she moaned, her head rolling back against the wall as her hands clamped onto his shoulders as she started to feel that snake in her belly moving. He felt the tell-tale flutter of her clamping around him and he continued his voracious pace until she cried out, a loud scream before she dropped her head to his shoulder, as she moaned his name, again and again whilst he pounded through her orgasm chasing his own.

“Shit, Katie! I’m…fuck!” his words tumbled into her hair as his movements became desperate and he came with such a force that he felt his knees buckling underneath him and even his super strength wasn’t enough to keep him upright, the absolute gratification he felt was just too much. He caught her as the pair of them collapsed to the dirty concrete floor, her on top of him, a tangle of clothing and limbs, chests heaving, sweat on both their brows as he held her to him, panting and shaking. Neither of them had any idea how long they stayed like that, but eventually Steve managed to gain enough control to sit them both upright, his wife on his lap has he gently brushed the tendrils of hair that had fallen over her face back, and looked at her, his lips gently greeting hers in a soft, tender kiss, a stark contrast to the violent ones they had shared moments before. She smiled at him, unadulterated love in her eyes as she moved her hands to brush his hair back before she leaned down and kissed him again, before her nose slide against his.

“I adore you.” She whispered softly, and he pulled her to him, nuzzling into her neck as he sighed.

“Feeling is mutual, Doll” He murmured, causing her to chuckle before they heard a noise in both their ears.

“Yeah, erm, you do realise your coms were on. That whole time.” Sam’s tone was laced with dismay.  “Erm yep, so we errr, we heard everything.”

Steve felt himself grow cold and he let out a soft groan of utter embarrassment into Katie’s neck

“Most excitement Sammy’s had in years.” Natasha quipped

Katie on the other hand, instead of shrinking with humiliation, threw back her head and laughed, and when Steve looked up at her, unsure exactly what she found so funny about it all, he saw her just fucked pink flush, her eyes which were practically crinkled shut in mirth, her perfect teeth surrounding by those plump lips he could kiss all day, and that freckle spattered nose which was wrinkled as she continued to howl with amusement.

And right then he didn’t care what Sam and Natasha had heard, because frankly, seeing her like that was worth whatever digs and snarky comments that were going to get their way. 

******

April 2018

“Huh…” Nat mused as they entered the dilapidated house, her and Katie pulling off their hoods and masks “Guess my old KGB contacts can pull through in a pinch.”

“We should move fast.” Steve looked at the door to the small, market stall lined street outside “Won’t take long for them to notice something is wrong.”

“I’ll keep watch.” Katie nodded, peering out through the crack in the door into the dusty, desert air as Natasha examined the gun she was holding.

“Definitely Chitauri. Although they’ve been heavily modified.”

Natasha effortlessly deactivated the weapons and they worked quickly and efficiently packing them into the crates ready to take them to the outskirts of the city to the drop point.

“You reckon we’ve earned a break after these ones?” Sam asked, as they began to load the heavy crates onto the back of the truck. Steve smiled as he looked at Sam. They’d been on back to back missions pretty much since New Year so far, the latest of which had brought Steve back to a very familiar market place in Yemen, one he had swore he would never come back to after the last time he’d run an op here. It was hot, dusty, and he had to admit to himself (because he would never admit it to anyone else) he was ready for a break.

“Yeah I think Wanda had the right idea.” Katie mumbled. She wasn’t feeling all that great if truth be told. She’d woken up a few days ago with a dodgy stomach after what she suspected was bad chicken, and it was taking her a while to shake it off. 

They made the drop and headed back to the jet where Katie grabbed another bottle of water and sank into one of the chairs, almost draining it in one. After a few breaths, the queasiness she had been feeling all the drive back to the jet dissipated somewhat and she lay her head back, closing her eyes.

Steve passed his wife, his hand gently running over her hair as she leaned back to take a nap. He knew she wasn’t feeling great but she’d assured him it was nothing serious. Steve was pleased to note that she looked better than she had done a few days ago, there was more colour in her cheeks, so hopefully she was over the worst of it.

Sam got them airborne and set the coordinates for the Safe House, and Steve found himself looking forward to getting back after almost five weeks away. The jet was pretty much silent for a few hours, Steve at one point switching out with Sam to allow him to get some rest too. That last mission had been a hard one, but worth it.

“Have either of you heard from Wanda?” Natasha asked a little while later, as she looked up from the tablet she was poking about on.

Steve shook his head as did Sam. Natasha let out a growl. “She’s deactivated the tracker on her phone. I warned her about that last time.”  

“She isn’t a prisoner Nat.” Steve raised his eyebrows, looking over at Katie who was still sleeping.  “She knows the risks. She’s been doing it on and off for the last two years.”

“I get that, but we don’t know where she is.”

“Look, we should be back at the safe house in what, an hour or so? Let’s wait and see if she’s there.” Steve suggested. “If we don’t hear from her by the morning, then we’ll worry.”

Nat opened her mouth to argue back but Steve shot her his infamous captain glare, signalling the debate was over. She shrugged.

“On your head be it.” She said, nonchalantly before completely changing the subject. “Fury’s patched through a new target- another Terrorist Sect grouping for an attack he suspects.”

“Where is it this time?” Sam called from the cockpit.

“Columbia” Natasha answered.

“Alright,” Steve nodded. “We’ll take a proper look at it once we’re back at the Safe House”

At that point. Katie gave a soft murmur as she stretched out her limbs, opening one eye blearily, then the other. She blinked and Steve stood up, heading over to her.

“Hey, sleepy.” He smiled, dropping a soft kiss to her temple as he crouched down in front of her. “You sure you’re okay?”

Katie at her husband, his handsome face sported a few more lines than it had done this time two years ago, and the spectacular beard he had sported hid his jawline, but his eyes never changed, and here they were so full of concern and love over something so minor as an upset stomach that it almost made her laugh.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She smiled. “I feel much better now.” Which she did. The funny feeling in her stomach and fuzziness in her head was well gone.

Before Steve could say anything else, Sam called his name and he glanced round as he straightened up and looked at the screen on the cockpit.

“Cap, I’m getting a report, some kind of ship”

“Where?” Steve asked as the pair of us turned to face him.

“Seems to be over the mainland UK of all places.” Sam frowned “It’s not much, but it’s big for sure. We’re not far out, fancy a slight detour on the way home, see what it is?”

Before he could answer, Nat strode to the middle of the jet, tablet in her hand.

“You need to see this.”

She swiped at the screen and the footage she was referring to appeared on the hologram display. Katie watched a familiar red and gold figure speeding through the air over the familiar back drop of down-town New York, tangling with, well, she wasn’t sure what the hell they were.

“Oh my God.” she muttered, as she read the tag line playing across the bottom of the news report- New York attacked.

The four of them paused as more footage showed the kid known as Spider-Man swinging through the air, and two other men, one with a long, crimson cloak, all facing off against two foes.  

“When did this happen?” Steve asked eventually, looking at Nat

“15 minutes or so ago.”

Steve didn’t say anything, instead he moved to the locker at the back of the jet, and taking a deep breath, he pulled out his half of the pair of burner phones he had gotten from T’Challa almost two years ago. Stark’s technology still, after all these years, amazed him. An amplified booster on all the jets he owned made it possible to for a mobile phone to continue working whilst in the air. He glanced up at Katie, before flipping open the phone and then all four of them stopped dead as it began to ring before Steve had the chance to even dial. 

“Stark?” His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he asked the question, even though there was no one else with that number…

“Steve, hi, it’s Bruce. It’s err, been a while.”

Steve paused his eyes widening at the surprise at hearing his onetime team mate. “Yeah, yeah it has,” was all he could say. “Listen, there’s not a lot of time to explain but something big, someone big to be exact, is coming, and they’re after Vision.” “Vision?” Steve paused, standing still where he had been pacing unknowingly.

“For the Stone.” Bruce continued. “He’s turned off his transponder so we can’t track him, but Tony…” Bruce took a deep voice and Steve glanced up at Katie who was watching him intently. “Tony went after the ship, Cap, he’s on the ship, heading out to space, but before it all started he was about to call you. He said that you might be able to find Vision. And we need to, we need to before they do. You got any idea where he is?”

Steve listened to Bruce’s rambles, a million and one questions were whirring round his head, but there was no time for that. If this was as big an issue as he said, they had to find Vision. And right now, he would hazard a guess that he was wherever that huge ship over the UK was.

“I don’t know for sure, but I have a pretty good idea.” He sighed.

“You need to get him before they do Steve, and I mean it. This is the biggest threat we’ve ever faced. This guy, well even Thor couldn’t stop him.”

Now that really did worry him, but again there was time to think about that later. “Leave it with us.” he said gently, before he closed the phone and stuck it into his pocket.

“What is it?” Katie asked, “Was that Tony?”

Ignoring her, Steve strode to the front of the jet and spoke to Sam. “That reading. Can you get a lock on it?”

“Piece of cake”

“Get us there, fast.” Steve instructed. Sam nodded to show he had understood.

Steve looked back at Natasha and Katie as his wife crossed her arms, waiting for an explanation, not impressed with being ignored.

“Whatever is on that Ship, chances are they’re looking for Vision.” Steve said simply “They want the stone in his head.”

“Wanda…” Nat muttered gently, as she hurried to the front of the jet.

Katie’s eyes however went back on the footage of the spinning space ship above the city they once called home.

“Steve.” She said eventually “Tell me please, how was he?”

“Sweetheart, it wasn’t Tony.” Steve replied, his voice low as he looked up at the cockpit. Natasha and Sam were busy flicking switches. “It was Banner”

“Banner?” she frowned “But what? I mean how?” “I don’t know but he said that Tony had go-…”

“We got it, Cap.” Sam interrupted. “Just over Edinburgh, I’ve locked in the route, we should be wheels down in ten.”

Steve nodded and then turned back to Katie as she carried on speaking.

“What about Tony?” she pressed.

Steve opened his mouth to answer but he stopped, his eyes falling onto the footage, still playing on the hollovision. Katie followed his gaze, the next line across the bottom answered her question.

Billionaire Tony Stark missing.

Katie couldn’t find any words to say. Instead she felt her breathing deepen and she swallowed thickly staring at the footage. Missing? Like, kidnapped? Missing in Action, missing presumed dead…a thousand and one thoughts  began running through her head, all of them coming back to the last time they had seen one another, the harsh exchange of words and him telling her he was ashamed of her before she left him in that cold bunker in Siberia.

Steve’s hand dropped onto his wife’s shoulder as he noticed her lip was beginning to wobble. 

“We get Vision and then we work on finding him.” He assured her gently, looking at Katie who looked up at him.

“We best hope we find him.” She swallowed again before she looked down at her hands. “Because if worst comes to worst and the last time we spoke to each other was when we parted on such bad terms, I’ll never forgive myself Steve.”

**** O/S: Vanilla

Chapter 36 Part 1

**Original Posting**

[cajunquandary]

Hands that Heal

Link: (coming soon to Ao3)

Summary: Sometimes all you need is a little push the right direction...

Created for: @negans-lucille-tblr SPN Secret Santa Fic Exchange

Rating: 18+ only

Pairing: Dean x OFC (Jay)

Warnings: Jealous Dean, fluff, smut, smidge of angst, medical IV (briefly), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap the willy)

Wordcount: 3.8k

A/N: Happy Holidays, @jay-and-dean! I was so ecstatic to have received your name and hope that my ramblings make you smile a little.

.

It’s a funny thing, the way everyone goes on about the eyes being windows to the soul. Of course, they can be very telling, and if you ever catch yourself getting lost in those of the Winchesters, how could you believe anything else? Or perhaps you are more like Jay. 

Jay has been with the Winchesters for quite some time. She’s been lost in those eyes. And she’s been found. The pure green folds of Dean’s have scooped her up, swaddled her, saved her. So have Sam’s hazel, but not in quite the same way. Not that either brother knows. Only Cas. 

Cas has seen the way her deep brown eyes linger just a little longer than they ought to, can feel the ache in her chest. There are times when Jay meets the angel’s gaze just afterwards but looks away just as quickly. They both know, but they won’t talk about it. And that’s okay. 

But for Jay, she can see beyond the green. Beyond the freckles and blushing pensive lips, the curve of his jaw, the gently rolling hills of his chest and arms. She traces the majestic waves and ripples beneath his warm skin with only her eyes and her heart. They come to rest just past strong wrists and fall like weighted feathers upon Dean’s weathered hands. 

You see, that’s where the soul really reveals itself closest to visible flesh. Each scar and busted knuckle tell a story. The pattern of freckles and tan lines speak of years in the sun. The calluses of his palm and fingertips disclose a rough life, a tough job. They are toned with skill, accurate in all things. They can field strip a gun and put it back together in the blink of an eye, tie complicated knots with dexterity, bait a hook and cast a line without hesitation, and even mold and create custom parts for Baby as they fix her up.

And yet, the skin between those marks is soft, no longer as elastic as it once was, but still full of life and love. The very muscles that hold together the bone and sinew have the capacity to both take life, and give it. Jay has watched them rip apart monsters and gently caress and hold victims within the same minute. 

Such an extreme duality shouldn’t be so neatly wrapped up in one man, but it was. It was both Dean’s light and his curse. Jay shivered as she hesitated just a moment too long on the fantasy of those thick muscled, deadly, yet oh-so-gentle hands, imagining how they might tickle as they might glide over her smooth skin. Of course, Dean notices. 

“There’s no way you’re cold, Jay. It’s a hundred friggin degrees outside!”

Right. Jay had to remind herself that they were on a case. No distractions. “Yeah, I-I’m good. Just got a chill because, ya know, we’re next to human refrigerators.” She swallowed hard and clenched her teeth to help ground herself back to reality. 

It really was hotter than a witch’s tit out there and not much cooler inside the mortuary. Dean continued to read silently from some forms on the coroner���s clipboard before licking his thumb and index finger to turn the page. Heat washed over Jay, spreading like drunken honey from her scalp all the way to her toes. She tried to steady her breathing, remain in persona as a stoney FBI agent, but the hot red of her cheeks was giving her away. 

She tore her gaze away to inspect the body. Not that anything she made mental note of would stick at this point. Dean cleared his throat and pulled the clipboard closer to his face before setting his thumbnail between his teeth the way he always did when he was laser-focused on something. She only caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye, but it was the final bit to break her. 

With a huff, Jay exclaimed a little too loudly, “There’s nothing here for us, Dean. I’ll be in the car.” Her legs carried her much too quickly out the swinging doors and up the stairs. 

“Um, okay?” Dean grumbled to himself before setting the paperwork back in its place and following Jay. “What the hell got into her?” 

Jay was glad to leave Texas. Mid-July heat drained her, along with every plant and tree scorched under the unrelenting and searing white sun. The world around them was bleached and bathed in the almost-eerie too-bright light. Well, everything except what existed in the shadows of the Impala. The sparse countryside rolled away mile by mile as time ticked by with every song on Dean’s favorite cassette. 

The air conditioning just couldn’t keep up, so Dean rolled down the windows. Jay tied up her locks in frustration, leaving a messy excuse for a bun resting on top of her head. The leather seats did nothing to help as she sweat through her shorts until she was nearly sliding off the seat. 

“How much longer until Oklahoma?” She sighed. For the third time that hour.

Dean shot a glare in her direction before settling his attention back on the highway. The heat was getting to him too, and even with sunglasses on, spots were gathering in his vision and impairing him with every piercing flash of the sun off of the windshields of passing cars. “Jay, I swear if you ask me ‘are we there yet’ one more time, I’m going to friggin pull over.”

“Ugh, FINE.” Jay wished to be nearly anywhere but here. Resignation set in and she slumped in the seat and let her bare feet hang out the window, crossing her arms. 

Dean turned the music louder, trying to drown out his own misery rather than her. He began to belt out slightly off-key to “Dazed and Confused.”

Jay cracked a half smile but hid it from Dean. 

He rapped out the solos on the steering wheel, his hands keeping perfect time as they danced upon the taught leather. 

Maybe pulling over wouldn’t be a half-bad idea, Jay thought. 

She closed her eyes, allowing the steady rumble of the engine to echo through her as hot wind whipped through the cab. She cracked them open again just long enough to witness the stretch of tight skin over Dean’s knuckles, the way the washed out wilderness blurred past behind them and accentuated the tan he’d gained from driving. 

The image was burned into her mind. To help pass the time, Jay granted herself permission to linger on it, explore it. Despite the heat outside, a new, different heat grew steadily in her core, stirring somewhere deep between her heart and soul. 

Not too long after, the Impala slowed and turned into a run down gas station--the first one in an hour. As Dean filled up, Jay took the opportunity to find shelter in some air conditioning and hopefully an ice-cold drink. Inside the store was no better. In fact, it was worse. The air was still and thick with humidity from the cooler, which buzzed and whirred as if it were possessed. 

“Sorry, Miss. Cooler is out. Hot drinks only,” a disheveled and sweat-drenched employee slouched over the register. 

“Thanks… got any pie?” Jay decided that if they had to drink hot water, they may as well have some comfort food. 

“Whatever we got is over there.” The clerk motioned with his eyes, no strength to even lift a finger. 

Jay stalked back to the car empty handed and more pissed than ever. If the summer heat was something tangible, she could just strangle it. Kick it, punch it. Anything to fight it. 

Dean finished up just in time, careful not to touch the scorching black paint and chrome on the car. “What, you go pee and come out with nothing? I’m dyin’ here!”

Jay snapped. “NO DRINKS. NO PIE. NOTHING. K?!” 

Dean was taken aback by the outburst. It was then he noticed the sunken look and dark circles under her eyes and the red sheen over her face and neck. She was getting pale and wasn’t sweating anymore.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.” His brows knit as he drove slowly through the town, hoping for a decent motel to rest at for a while. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait but a few blocks before The Moonlight Motel came into view. 

Pay by the hour may not be the greatest, but at least it was cheap and would likely be empty this time of day. 

Jay was losing touch and the following events were a blur. The next thing she truly could grasp and remember was lying mostly clothed in a cold shower. Dean sat facing her atop the closed toilet seat, a worried face perched upon clasped hands. Still a bit out of it, Jay relaxed into the cool water as it slowly washed the fever down the drain. The world slipped away, replaced by a gentle, dark nothing.

When Jay stirred, the room was too dim to still be day and shadows were held at bay by only a small lamp on the far side of the dingy room. She couldn’t remember how she got there at first, but as she woke, things gradually came back to her. 

Dean had practically carried her to the room. He’d carefully set her in the bathtub and removed her belt, overshirt and boots. He’d turned on the cold water and at first, she’d protested, but slipped in and out of consciousness. He’d retrieved ice from the machine down the hall and poured it over her as he constantly monitored her vitals and temperature. 

He’d withdrawn her, a soaking wet dead weight, stripped away the sopping clothes while careful not to look where it would make her uncomfortable, and buttoned her up in the softest flannel he had. 

Jay glanced down at her right hand, as it felt stiff and sore. A needle was taped there, no longer hooked to the empty bag of saline, taped down and left in place just in case. Jay wiggled slightly when she realized that her other arm had gone quite numb beneath her and--Dean?

His soft snores disrupted as she shifted, equally mortified and elated to be nestled into the crook of his arm. Dean woke and rubbed his eyes, as if pretending he’d been awake the whole time. His voice was low and gravely from sleep. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He looked down at her, so small in his arms, furious with himself for not taking better care of her. 

“M-good,” Jay choked out, completely entranced by being so close to the hunter. Close enough for their breath to mix and his cologne to shroud her senses. Close enough to see the flecks of golds and blues and dark greens in the folds of his irises. Her breath caught and she shivered. Again. Jay mentally kicked herself for that tell. “Thank you… Sorry I was being a brat.”

“No. No, this is on me. You were sun-sick. I’m sorry. I should’ve--”

Jay put a finger to his parted lips with only the intention to stop Dean from blaming himself (like always,) but the touch sent electric pulses through her fingertips and set fire to every nerve in her body. They were impossibly soft and warm. 

Dean caught her hand tenderly in his before she could pull away and planted a slow kiss on her knuckles. He watched anxiously as her pupils dilated and her breathing became more shallow. Pulling their hands out of the way, Dean leaned forward just slightly and planted a firm, reassuring kiss to her forehead. 

Jay’s mind was a mess. This was more than familial. Were they crossing a line? Or maybe it just meant that Dean was comfortable with her, and concerned. But even as the thoughts swirled, her lips had a mind of their own. As Dean traced his nose down hers until their heads were pressed together, Jay angled upward to meet him. 

When their lips locked, there was no more question. Jay loved Dean, and he knew and he loved her back. It was soft and sweet, with their eyes shut tight, just exploring and tasting and sucking gently. 

The remainder of the trip back to the bunker was spent with Dean humming, a stupid smile plastered on his face, and Jay resting across the front seat, her head in his lap. Dean stroked her soft, brown hair adoringly. The night was much cooler and comfortably dark with only dim, scattered stars to blanket the hunters. 

~

Everything was different after the motel. The kiss. 

Almost six months had gone by and for the most part, they’d been wonderful. Jay spent more time in Dean’s room than her own, and the hunts had been good so far, like old times. 

Until this one. 

Jay, Sam, and Dean were doing a bit of recon at a local bar to dig up some answers, or at the very least, a lead. Jay had dressed to stun, as usual. (After all, men’s lips tended to be a bit more loose around a pretty girl.)

Dean was hovering. Everytime Jay got close to some useful information, Dean would scare off the burly locals with a death glare. 

Until this one. 

This man was built like a tank. He towered even over Sam by a few inches and dwarfed Jay in comparison. Sam eyed her uncomfortably from a few tables over, but he always got like that when someone was bigger than him. Dean didn’t adjust his tactics at all, and when the big guy had enough of Dean dancing around him and bumping his chair with an insincere, “sorry, man,” the guy stood up and puffed out his chest. Dean moved to both protect Jay and get in a prime fighting position, but Jay yanked him away by the collar of his jacket faster than he could complain. 

She didn’t stop until they were completely outside the bar, then shoved him into the soot-covered brick wall. Dean opened his mouth to spout something pigheaded, but stopped himself as he felt the chill of her glare more than the chill of the snow flurries swirling around them. 

“Would you just trust me to do my job? What is your problem?” 

“I do! I just--” Dean waved in a flustered motion, unable to find the words. All he knew was that when she got a little too... comfortable... with anyone, he saw red. 

Still, Jay seemed to understand. She reached up and held his face firmly between her palms, forcing him to maintain eye contact. 

“I’m yours. I know that you worry, what you fear. I’m not going to leave you. Ever. No one can ever take me from you, either, because I’ll haunt your ass and you know it.”

Dean’s bottom lips quivered just barely, and he quickly bit it back. “Don’t you even joke about that,” his voice broke. 

“De- I’m right here, okay?”

 He nodded and leaned into her until his face was buried in her neck. He squeezed his arms around her, never wanting to know what it would feel like to have to let go. 

A muffled “let’s go back to the motel” emanated from somewhere within Jay’s scarf and she nodded in response. 

Dean grasped her hand as they walked the short distance back to the rented room. Jay stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide and pointing over to the edge of the woods. A startled “Dean!” escaped her, and Dean dropped her hand and withdrew his gun, ready for a fight. His plumes of hot breath on the air slowed to nearly nothing as he steadied himself and visually searched the area. 

What had she seen?

Before he could ask, something hard, round and icey struck the back of his shoulder with decent force. He spun on his heels and lowered his weapon to find Jay wide-mouthed and laughing, another snowball forming in her hands. 

“Son of a bitch! You want to play dirty, huh?” Dean howled. He holstered the pistol and raced to close the distance between them. With a squeal and a grunt, the two ended up in a heap in the wet, mushy snow. 

Jay managed to end up on top of him and leaned in for a deep kiss. She could feel the smile on his lips as his tongue graced across hers. When at last they came up for air, Dean was moving his arms and legs haphazardly. 

“A slush-angel?” Jay giggled at the sorry creation. 

“What, my art not good enough for you?” Dean retorted while wearing a shit-eating grin. “And no, actually, it’s a Yeti.” 

The wet chill began to sink into their bones, so they hurried onward. Dean fiddled with the key card but the lock gave him fits. 

“C’mon, Dean! I’m freezing to death!” 

“Yeah, yeah, me too. Hold your horses.”

At last, the door swung open and Jay rushed inside, leaving Dean to close and lock the door behind them. She’d already started stripping off the wet outer layers when Dean approached. With every step bringing him closer, his heartbeat rose and he wrestled out of his own layers. 

Jay moved to lift off her shirt, but Dean covered her hands with his, intertwining their fingers. He stood against her, and in one swift move, wrapped both of her wrists in a single firm grip behind her, and with the other, pressed an open palm against her belly. 

Jay gasped, her knees going weak with what she knew was coming next. Despite the weather, his touch was toasty. Coarse skin slid over her soft flesh, causing a friction that left Jay needing more. Heat flushed her cheeks and pooled deep in her stomach. Dean melted with every shuttered breath of hers as he stroked up and down beneath the fabric of her shirt, making sure to linger over the more sensitive areas as she twitched and bit down on her lip. 

Dean massaged her breasts with skilled fingers for a few moments, but a sensual twist of her nipple sent Jay reeling backwards, supported only by Dean’s other arm. With her head tilted back, Dean took the opportunity to kiss and suck and nip zig-zagged lines over the most delicate parts of her neck and along her collarbone. 

Jay squirmed and panted with lust-blown pupils and a cry just on the tip of her tongue. Dean’s grasp only steadied her against him more until he found himself grinding into her, faint moans already filling the air. The growing bulge in his pants drove Jay mad. She wanted to be covered by him, skin on skin, needed him inside her. 

“D-Dean please, please…” Jay whimpered and attempted to wiggle out of his hold once more to no avail. 

“Please, what, pretty girl? Tell me what you want.” Dean breathed against her ear, just above a whisper. He sucked and nibbled in the hollow behind it.

A shudder wracked Jay, but this time, she didn’t mind the tell. She had him. He was hers. But right then, she needed more and she knew he was holding back. “Unnghh, please… need you, now,” she managed.

“Okay, Baby,” Dean crashed his lips to hers and shifted until Jay was suspended in the air and straddling him as he walked them towards the bed. He dropped her playfully and they scrambled to see who could lose their remaining clothes the fastest.

In a fray of scattered clothing, Dean climbed on top of her, comfortably crushing Jay into the lumpy mattress. He let his full weight rest upon her. 

“Stop it,” she giggled as his scruff tickled her cheek. 

“Why don’t you make me?” Dean grinned between planting kisses everywhere he could reach. 

Before he could react, Jay had him rolled onto the floor. She straddled him and tried to concentrate despite his hard cock resting perfectly between her hot, dripping folds. Her hair created a curtain around their faces, blocking out everything but that moment and the sensations it was riddled with. Dean’s eyes closed and mouth opened like a fish out of water. His breaths were shallow and shaky. Jay fought the urge to lift her hips just so, knowing that if she did, and she came back down upon him, his throbbing dick would line up just perfectly… and they’d end up on the floor for the remainder of their romp. 

She rose to her feet, grasping his hand and pulling him up with her. Dean’s eyes were full of question, longing. His cheeks were flushed and hot to the touch. He was melting at every touch and could do nothing about it but wait for her. 

Jay led him over to the chair and pushed him into it. He nearly tripped on his way down. That stupid smile she loved so much spread across his face again as he dug his fingers into her hips and pulled her onto him. She let out a yelp as the broad head of his large cock spread her entrance, dripping with precum, and buried itself deep inside until her walls stretched almost uncomfortably. The shock of his size was something she’d never get used to. Each time was like the first, the same butterflies swarming in her stomach, the same jolts of pure lust burning through her veins.

Dean gasped and held her close to him, trembling hands roaming her back and squeezing her ass. Jay carded her hands through his hair and pulled just slightly at the nape of his neck as he whined in approval. Those laments made her head swim and her limbs weak. Drunk on Dean, she adjusted her position until he was sunk deep into the spot that was just right, then began to move back and forth, slow and steady. Dean’s breaths stuttered and his head fell back, leaving his neck open for Jay to take into her mouth. 

“Fuck--Baby you feel s-so good,” he stammered between increasing moans and grunts. She could see in his eyes that he was losing control.

Jay cried out as he began to fight her movements with his own, pounding up in all the right spots. She arched her back as the coil wound tighter… higher… tighter… higher... until she shattered in his arms, his name and curses spilling from her gaping mouth. 

He held her through it and chased his own orgasm, sucking a mark onto her chest before he spilled into her. Everyone would know she was his, and only his. Her walls clenched in waves and he pulsed within them, his delicious sounds filling her ears as she came down. 

Jay crashed her lips into his, and he returned with fervor until they were both completely breathless. Wrapped there in Dean’s arms, Jay was home. 

No, nothing was ever the same after that first kiss. And that was okay. It was amazing.

.

.

WAYWARD PEEPS:

@carryonmywaywardcaptain @manawhaat @supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79-blog @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @taste-of-dean @impala-dreamer @arryn-nyxx @idk-life01 @attorneyl @deathtonormalcy56 @xwing-baby @wonder-cole @itsangelpie @thinkinghardhardlythinking

ANGST BABES:

@trexrambling​ @abbessolute @emptywithout

ALL ABOUT THAT DEAN:

@akshi8278 @will-winchester

@waywardbaby* the smut was heavily inspired by The Scene. Tagged as promised lol

Tag List now open!

[imnotwolverine]

On The Planes Of Reverie

Henry Cavill x OFC smut

Warnings: dreamy, rough smut, unprotected sex, bodily fluids, mentions of ..I think a medieval war camp? 

Word count: 1.371

Author’s note: It’s difficult for me to fall asleep unless I first conjure up a scene. I’ll think of the space, smells, people and more often than not I have very vivid dreams after - sometimes to the aggravation of my poor boyfriend who has to endure my wild thrashing around. BUT! It also gave me the idea to write this little smutty drabble. I hope you may enjoy it my dears - I wasn’t even sure whether to post it..but ah well..here we are 😘Have a good evening my sweets!

(Link to my Masterlist)

--

‘Ohhh cold,’ I quickly ducked beneath the velvety cover, the material much too cool for my liking now winter had arrived. Brr.

‘Coming,’ Henry grinned, turning back towards the ensuite to spit out his toothpaste and turn off the lights.

After a few shivery cold moments, teeth clattering, the sheets lifted again, more cold washing over me before I was welcomed by the long awaited bask of hot skin against my back. ’Sorry,’ He hummed in slight mirth as I jumped at his cold fingers traveling over my belly - he obviously didn’t really mean it as his words were followed by a deep rumbling sniffle.

‘Mmm,’ I grumbled in mild annoyance, scooting a little further back so I was settled comfortably in the curve of his body, pressing myself into his chest and thighs.

Henry, my personal body toaster, was all I now needed as London was sure to be struck by an icy storm tonight. I hated winter.

‘So what are you going to be dreaming about tonight?’ He asked.

‘Really? You’re really curious about that?’

‘Mhm. I’ve never heard of people like..prepping their dreams. I’d love to hear what you’ve got planned for tonight.’

I turned my head slightly in his direction as I tried to think, the room too dark to see anything. What would I be dreaming about? Good question.

‘I see…’ I yawned. ’..the insides of a large canvas tent. It’s dark, except for the illumination of a few candles lit in stormlights. I’m on a bed covered with furs, having just lain down; it’s not all that warm yet. Quite cold actually. I shiver. The tent is luxurious. Rich jewel toned fabrics, a table with war plans in the corner. And outside..a storm is picking up, guards slushing through thick inches of mud as the canvas tent flaps and pulls.’

‘Mmm…’ Henry nodded into my hair. ‘Am I there?’ Henry’s warm breath fanned over my skin, causing small goosebumps to run up my arm. I smiled.

‘I don’t know. But I do feel a body next to me. A warm arm draping over me, fighting away the cold in my bones.’ I sighed as Henry squeezed me a little tighter, smiling into the crook of my neck.

‘I think I know what happens next.’

‘Do you now?’

Henry moved his hand to cup my jaw, turning my head back towards his, effectively caging me in his large arms. His dark voice rumbled as he placated a few ghostly kisses over my cheek:

‘You can’t see him, but you can feel him. He murmurs a strange language to you; not that you care. You need his warmth as a cold draft enters through the cracks between the tent and the ground. You shiver.’

And I did shiver, my body moulding to Henry’s touch as I let myself drift in between sleep and wakefulness.

‘And then?’ I asked, breathing out softly as I felt my body sink, slip into the dream.

—

His skin felt like hot coals, making my nerve ends sizzle and tingle. But after all the cold, the sensation was most welcome. For a moment I forgot about the restless thump of feet that walked passed our heads - just a few centimetres away from us. Mud splashed beneath the soldiers’ boots and I could hear the rain hitting the canvas above us.

For a moment I forgot about the incessant fear that crept over me, making me quiver like the cold wind did as it whispered through the cracks between the heavy canvas. And the man behind me hushed me, coaxing me to press myself deeper into his warm cocoon. He had been in bed for a while, his skin all toasty, sticky even. I didn’t care.

He spoke, but his words made no sense. More feet passed, metal clanking on metal. Some groans in the far distance. Had there been a fight? It might just have, as I felt how I wasn’t just cold; I was aching. Soured leg muscles and a dull pressure near my right ribs. Nothing major, but enough to make my breath hitch as his fingers traversed my thin shift covered chest, massaging the soft flesh of my breast beneath. Again he hushed me, but this time it was more incessant, as if to keep a secret, his body pressing another hard bit into me. No large thighs or rock-like pecs. But his member, as hard as the planes of his abs that jerked as I placed my cold fingers on his naked skin.

I half-expected him to protest my icicles probing him, but he didn’t make a sound, a hiss. All he did was nuzzle the back of my neck, fanning hot air over my cold skin, drawing a different kind of goosebump trail over my arms.

In an instant I found my belly pressed into the soft furs, his weight crushing down on me as he rolled his body into me, rubbing my clothed behind to show his need - he did groan this time.

I moaned ever so quietly, offering him the only answer I dared give as yet more people passed by the tent, halting just a meter or so away from us, their dark voices discussing something over the loud howl of the wind and rain.

The cold air returned in licking waves to my calves, thighs, bum, until my shift was dragged up enough for him to return as my human-shaped blanket. Warm, heavy and needy, his teeth finding the soft spot between neck and shoulder. I let my fingers roam over his skin again, though it was hard from my awkward position, face pressed in warm fur, body caged beneath his.

Again he spoke and again I didn’t understand, but there was no real need for it anyway. This dance was so primal that all I needed was that velvety steel that rubbed so eagerly between my thighs, sliding through the gentle pool of wet heat that was slowly gathering.

I took too long apparently; he spit in his hand before he pressed beneath my hip and onto my core, his hips now starting a slow grind, cock rubbing through my squeezed together thighs whilst his fingers bruised my clit. Harder, harder, harder he pushed me and I whimpered softly. The feeling pushed all minor pains away. Scents wafted around me. Iron, salt, sweat and fur. The softest of grunts rumbled in his chest.

Harder - his other hand curled around the back of my neck, keeping me down as his knuckled hand pulled me back into his groin. Into a thick hot shaft that impatiently pushed and forced, willing me to relax and let him breach through, nose nuzzling my hair, his breath hitching. Inch by slow inch, the last inches slipping fast and hard into my cervix; I was somehow glad he had roughly pushed my face into the fur, muffling my cry.

More soldiers walked past.

Hot and cold mixed. Whenever his body rolled out to push back in deep, the icy air wrapped around me. And then he was back, claiming me. Taking me with force that made the bed shift slightly, his hands curling in an even more bruising push and pull on my hip and neck.

—

‘Fuck.’ Henry growled, his voice distinctly different but the hot, cold, sweaty dance of skin on skin the same. Mewling softly I blinked open my eyes to realise where I was. Back home. Back in our London bed. ‘You awake?’ He whispered, feeling up my cold shoulder, the blanket fallen down as I had obviously been writhing up against him, his hard-on pressing into my wiggling ass.

I panted softly and let out a soft chuckle. ‘Yea…Woo..I checked..he wasn’t you.’

Henry pushed himself up a bit, kissing my shoulder in question.

‘In fact he had nothing on you.’ I rolled into his embrace and pressed up to kiss him eagerly. 

No, everything about Henry was better. The way he made my heart and core ache for him, how wet I got for him as I all but sensed him around. With mighty need I clawed a hand around his shoulder, begging him to do something about my half-finished soaking wet dream.

I imagined he’d be smiling down at me, but it was too dark to see. 

He rumbled. ‘I’ll give you something good to dream about.’

And that he did.

--

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @mary-ann84 @darkbooksarwin @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @hell1129-blog @agniavateira @tillthelandslide @elinesama​ @aletheladyinred

[missmonsters2]

Come Closer || Part I

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader/OFC

Summary: In which, you enter Natasha’s world via cleaning her window.

Warnings: None, unless you count love as a warning. 

Genre: Romance

PART I of III

Count: 1310

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Mornings tend to be Natasha's only time of peace. 

She's gotten to a place in her life where when the world is not in impending doom, she'll sleep in a little. She'll take her morning in slow, there are no early morning workouts, and sometimes, she'll laze around in bed with a cup of coffee until 11 AM.

But for some reason, her morning hasn't been as relaxing as she likes. Maybe it's post-saving the world that her nerves haven't cooled off. The mission bothered her because Natasha knows what she brings to the table, but sometimes it doesn't feel like enough.

There's an underlying pressure and anxiety she feels when she's lying in bed. Sleep has been harder to come.

But then she hears a voice outside her window.

Singing, to be precise. 

♪ Wouldn't it be nice if we were older, then we wouldn't have to wait so long? ♪

The voice isn't unpleasant. Sometimes Natasha hates it when people sing without music because they tend to go off-key, but you've got a pitch that works for you, and a soft, pleasant singing voice. 

It occurs to Natasha that Tony has said something about hiring someone to clean their windows. Natasha always has her curtains closed in the morning, but she may have a window cracked open.

♪ And wouldn't it be nice to live together, in the kind of world where we belong? ♪

Natasha stops moving around in bed, not wanting to alert you that someone is awake behind the window you're cleaning. 

♪ You know it's gonna make it that much better when we can say goodnight and stay together. ♪

There's a small breeze that carries through, rustling the curtain, and she catches a glimpse of you.

♪ Wouldn't it be nice if we could wake up in the morning when the day is new? ♪

It's 8 AM on a Tuesday morning, and through the midst of undetermined anxiety and pressure, your singing voice lulls Natasha back to sleep.

And when she woke up 3 hours later, she found a lovely, teasing message on her window, written in washable marker.

ffonamoR .sM ,uoy ekow I fi yrroS. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It's a weekly thing.

Natasha only gets to see you one day a week when you come back to clean her window. She found out that you're the person assigned to her window.

She was a little curious about how you had found out her name, but it appears that Tony makes his workers sign an NDA when working for him and that a breach of it means essentially having to pay a fine that would carry over 3 generations. 

You come at the same time every morning, and sing different songs as you work. Natasha is your only audience, but today, she wants to get a little closer.

So, the night before you come, Natasha puts her own message on the window. 

You come, right on the clock, and pause. Natasha knows you've seen her message.

⸮eman ruoy teg I yam ,eciov ylevol a evah uoY

It's quiet for a moment or two, but you start to work, singing another tune. Natasha isn't sure what to expect, but she listens as she does every week, falling asleep to the only voice that puts her at peace lately.

When she wakes up, she checks her window to see you're long gone, but you left another message.

And she gets your name.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Maybe it's a new addiction, but Natasha can't fall asleep in the morning unless she hears your voice.

So she asks if Tony can increase her window cleaning to 4 times a week.

"Why?" He asks.

"I'm a messy person."

"They're just cleaning the outside of the window. Also, you are the tidiest person I know."

"The birds take a shit on the windows often," Natasha shrugs.

Tony cocks his brow at her, but he shrugs and agrees.

So now, she gets to hear your voice 4 times a week, and her morning feels normal again.

Except, the 4th time that week, there's no singing. In fact, you seemed like you're in a rush.

And that is throwing Natasha through all kinds of loops. She did not ask Tony to increase the number of times of window cleaning for you to be in a rush.

She gets up and rips the curtains open, coming face to face with you.

You looked shocked, but then you're frowning.

Natasha slides the window up.

The two of you don't say anything to each other, but you go back to washing the window with haste.

And while the window is equally as clean as it is when you take your time and sing, it still miffs Natasha.

"Stingy," she says, and you turn to her.

"Excuse me?" You say, frowning deeply.

"Stingy," Natasha repeats, and your jaw is dropping as you scoff.

"Singing is not part of my contract, Ms. Romanoff," you glare at her.

"You can just call me Natasha," is the only thing the redhead says. 

"Well, Natasha, I get paid to clean your window," you bite back, but Natasha doesn't even seem phased. 

"Stingy," she repeats, causing you to huff and put your swivel back into your bucket.

"You know what? I don't need this. I have a full-time paying job already."

You start to scale down, and Natasha turns around to leave her room.

By the time you get to the bottom of the tower, Natasha is already standing there waiting for you.

"How did you--" 

"Elevator," Natasha says, and you sigh. 

"So, why do you work here if you already have a full-time job?"

You quirk your brow at her. "I'll tell you if you apologize for saying I'm stingy."

"I'm sorry for calling you stingy," Natasha says without missing a beat and no shame. 

You purse your lip, annoyed that Natasha apologizes so easily but sigh through your nose as you come through with your promise.

"...I was here," you start quietly, "during the alien invasion."

Natasha bites her tongue because she feels like any looks of sympathy might put you off, and you would close up.

"I was stuck under rubble for hours, my leg was crushed," your eyes dart to Natasha. "I was lucky as I was when you came and saved me. Another falling rubble would've paralyzed me."

Blinking, Natasha tries to recall if she met you, but that day was a huge blur. There were so many things happening, and so many people she had rescued.

"It's fine," you tell her, seeing that she's trying to recall you, "I was just another face in the many people I'm sure you saved."

You wave it off, and Natasha crinkles her nose.

"Anyways," you direct the conversation, "I..."

Your voice dies down for a second.

"It's hard for me to sleep at times," you cough, looking upwards.

"This helps."

"Cleaning windows?" Natasha tilts her head, trying to understand exactly how this helps you sleep at night.

"Cleaning your window," you clarify.

Natasha takes it as maybe this is how you want to repay her for saving you, but she certainly thinks there could be better ways to thank her.

"Can we have coffee?" Natasha asks, but you cock your brow at her.

"No," you tell her, and Natasha is floored.

"Should I apologize some more?"

"No--that's--no, that won't get you anywhere," you tell her with a slight tone of exasperation. 

You put your tools away, hoping that Natasha catches the hint you're done for today. You're about to walk off back into the main floor to give back the cleaning supplies when Natasha's voice stops you.

"Will you come back tomorrow?"

You want to turn around, staggered by Natasha's audacity, and you're really about to let her have it when she gives you a soft look.

"When you sing, it's the only time I can sleep lately."

PART II

[unlocktxt]

hi 😄 i saw your reblog and i want to ask the same thing: what was your first impression of your moots?

First i want to say that I may of gotten a littleeeee carried away. I wanted to include as many people as possible, but some I don’t have enough to say. Despite this I might add more. I’ve met so many various people on this app and I’ve loved interacting with them all or just seeing them around. So much so that I can’t list everybody. I really love all my moots and there are so many of them that I’ll forever be grateful for. (yes i added a keep reading because this was so long and please excuse my gramtical errors)

@hoes4hoseok - our first impression was playing among us WHICH WAS SO FUN. I don’t remember much about talking to her in the game BUT I do remember that she was the first one to ever make the group chat filled with those who played with us. honestly I’m so grateful that she did that because I wouldn’t have been able to become friends with her and many others. I remember thinking that she was beyond kind and that she was good with trying to include everyone. After that I just remember hearing her voice and then DYING because she has a wonderful voice. I felt as though I related to you just a bit. Now I’ve gotten to see different aspects of her and really value her as a person and friend. She keeps things real and is so helpful. Sometimes I wish I could see what goes on inside her head because sometimes I think she reserves herself or overthinks and I’d like to give her a big hug.

@binniebutter - amie... oh amie 🙄 just kidding 😂 amie well... I also met her while playing among us in that same group. we played a lot with each other and I find that nice BECAUSE I CANT REMEMBER WHAT WE TALKED ABOUT DURING THE FIRST TIME WE PLAYED. I think I do remember laughing about her and gen tho. In our first gc I remember thinking that she had a bright personality and could keep the conversation going. I also find out we live about an hour away so I was able to connect with her about that (I also was so excited just because IVE NEVER MET AN ONLINE FRIEND IN THE SAME STATE) After that we played among us a lot together and I just remember thinking amie was EVIL. She was funny though and I felt comfortable around her. Now... I honestly think I’m pretty close to amie emotionally. It’s very rare that I put down my guard and talk to someone about certain things (I don’t really think I’ve talked to her about certain things tho) I still feel as though I can talk to her or that I can cry or rant to her without feeling judged. I don’t know how much she’s come to me about, but anytime I try to comfort her i feel like I get to know her better. I usually don’t start joking with my friends and being “rude” to them unless I know that they know I love them, which is why I’m starting to show amie sarcasm at times ☺️ I may of written too much 😅

@hyukaite I ACTUALLY REMEMBER MY FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF KAT. oml we’d send asks every now and then and I remember thinking she was a crack head. From the videos I’d see her post to that one drawing. Man if only I could go all the way back to it, but it was monthssss ago. I also remember relating to her about having to help our sisters with math 💀. I wanted to be her friend after seeing her interact with some of my other moots, but I was too shy to actually message her so I stuck with sending in asks every now and then 😂 then we started playing among us together. I remember thinking “NOOOO SHE STOLE YELLOW” which led to me falling in love with the dark green among us color JFKAJFLW. After that I remember getting betrayed by her in the game SO MANY TIMES. she killed me during the Simon says task... to tell you what grudge I hold... I still remember it. ITS SUCH A HARD TASK AND SHE DIDNT LET ME FINISH IT. She also killed me in electrical when I thought she was INNOCENT. Now... kat I don’t even know how to describe her. She has many aspects to her that I love. She also is able to help me think straight whenever I let my anger get to me.

@yawnjunie - I thought she was shy at first because when I first met her she didn’t talk much, so I felt bad because I thought she didn’t feel all that welcomed by us (no specific reason we were just introduced to blu so abruptly 😂) After that I think I was intimidated by her at first JFJAKFJERI. We also compared our schools and our grade mindset which I think really opened my eyes a little bit more. I still believe she’s really smart Zknfaltn. She makes me laugh though and she also started the network moacabinet. She’s really sweet with so many ideas, but I feel bad because sometimes I think she gets stressed easily. She’s not on much, but everytime she’s online I’m blessed with her presence.

@kkuming - gigiiiii! my first impression of gigi was fairly simple. We met on the au group chat and she seemed really sweet. I wanted to try and give gigi a warm welcome and make sure she felt comfortable. I wish I remembered more about our first meeting. I DO HOWEVER remember thinking she was v v innocent. I sat back and watched gigi get thrown into the group and laughed my ass off at how she interacted with kat. I was worried that because the others were already so comfortable with her and joking around about things that she may actually think that the “divorce” or whatever it was that kat and her had would make her upset, so I wanted to remind her that I appreciated her Zofnakfjeof. She also was taking a lot of stressful classes so I could only hope this girl didn’t die underneath all that stress. Now I- she’s crazy guys. Just kidding 😂 she’s still really sweet and jokes around with all of us. I’m glad she’s online a lot more now. she’s also really funny.

@lipbeom - I’m like 99.9% sure rynn was the first person I ever really talked to on tumblr. I thought she was a really good writer and saw that she was a senior as well, so I was glad that I wasn’t the only one on tumblr that was going to suffer through the last year of school. I was so glad when she messaged me first like Y’ALL HAVE NO IDEA. When I first met her I remember thinking she was really sweet AND BEYOND SMART. I’m really grateful for rynn and I actually miss her a lot because I feel like I don’t interact with her as much as I should. She was very supportive and still is. It’s only been a few months since I first talked with her but I’m reminiscing 😂 She also got me hooked on selling sunset WHICH WAS AMAZING but I was talking like the girls on the show for WEEKSSSSSSS.

@bbhyeoliskooks - I don’t really remember how I came across her, but I realized she was a new moa writer and wanted to check her out. My first impression... hmmm I guess you could say that I believed she was very grateful even when she didn’t have to be. Sometimes she makes me feel old 💀 but she’s reminds me a little bit of my sister... just way sweeter. She’s very loyal and anytime you tell her you’ve posted something oml she’s wonderful. She’s the type of person who is really supportive and I appreciate that, but sometimes I feel like I don’t give her enough of ittttt. I really need to go stalk her blog now as for some reason I don’t see her notifs half the time. I’m really proud of her and think she’s one of the sweetest people on tumblr NOT TO MENTION SHE SINGS BEAUTIFULLY.

@txthearteu - oml cj 😂 she is also one of the first people I talked to on tumblr. I don’t really remember our first impression tho :/. I DO REMEMBER I READ ONE OF HER STORIES THO and i sent an ask about it because she deserved the recognition for it. Hmmm at first I believe I was intimidated because she is older than me 😂 however she was so extremely sweet and I loved talking to her. I tried talking about various different things with her because I wanted our conversation to continue hehe. She stays feeding me 😌 and even if I can’t physically eat del taco I get full off of the love and support cj gives me. My eyes light up when I see her in my notifs. I think she deserves the world and I always want to be there for her. I don’t think I can ever repay her for the love she’s given me.

@sung4oon - SAM I SWEAR IF YOU CHANGE UR URL BEFORE I HAVE A CHANCE TO POST THIS! I met her when her url was... 👁👄👁 lixxie sumtin. I think it was lixieebear. I truly don’t remember her first impression 💀 the only thing I remember was thinking that she was also a crack head. She was really funny and sweet and DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE WHOLE BRAINCELL THING. I should’ve given her my brain cells for christmas. I still think she’s really fun to talk to and I literally try to remind myself as much as possible that I need to go stop by and send an ask every now and then. Even so she still says hi to me ☺️

@beomiebear5 - R A I N A. hehehehehehe I actually love this first impression for me. At the time I saw her anon asks to rynn. I saw that she was going to start posting stuff on her blog soon and she gave a hint about how to find her. Ofc I let rynn do that herself BUT I went searching KFJSIFIWFKW I couldn’t help it I saw it as a challenge. My first impression was rlly just that she was sweet. Then after a while KFJAOFJWOF I really love interacting with her and seeing her rants. Gosh she’s so funny and ✨inspires✨ me. I’m always down to talk to her because she’s amazing and sweet.

@magicisland9-34 - lillie ☺️ I honestly don’t remember our first impression? I do however remember when she first sent an ask! I would always get so excited when I got an ask from her 😂 I loved talking to her and she let me ramble on and on. Whether that be about gymnastics or ballet. Once again even lillie is sweet, but she’s betrayed me for siding with amie about Christmas 😤. She’s also one of the people that I try to remind myself to go and visit their blog and see what they’ve posted.

@spookybias - if I remember correctly gen was the first one who reblogged my about me post, which ended up allowing others on this app to see that I was a new writing blog. She was also one of the first people I followed and one of the first who followed me, so I was really grateful and thought she was beyond helpful and nice. I also really believe she’s a great writer and i admired how she would tell things how they are. She’s always been sweet to me even if she’s threatened to shoot me a while back 😤. OH YEAH we also played among us together in that group as well and I always suspected her at one point. IT WAS BECAUSE THE ONE TIME I TRUSTED HER SHE KILLED ME.

@bffsoobin - My first impression of Sara was pretty simple like I found her blog and fell in love. she writes so well and I’ve loved everything I’ve read from her. I thought she was really pretty and pretty funny too. When she’d talk about some of her stories revolving school it honestly made my day as well. I admire her especially because she’s such a good writer and LET ME TELL YOU when she followed me back I think I did a little cheer. I was reading her fics before I even started writing on tumblr.

@soobcxre - I saw Sara around because we had a lot of moots in common and when I saw them interact I would just think about how I wanted to befriend her 😂. When she texted me I got so excited, but I WAS SO CAUGHT UP IN SCHOOL TOO. She’s also really sweet ajfjwkfjw and I’m glad to have met her.

@lovesickchoi - MADDIE 🤩 I.... I don’t remember my first impression of her 🥲. It may of revolved around asks? I think I ended up trying to get to know her more at the time I was trying to get to know yoonie. I say this because I remember always seeming to get their urls mixed up... I think it’s because the h at the beginning. I LITERALLY DONT REMEMBER HOW WE STARTED INTERACTING. She’s also an amazing writer tho! Now I still think she’s sweet and we’ve talked about yeonbin together 😂.

@sunoo-luvs - 🥺 zaara JFJAJRKSKF literally my first impression was “cute.” That still stands btw. She’s absolutely the sweetest and is really considerate of others IM SCARED BECAUSE SHE MAY APOLOGIZE FOR THINGS THERES NO NEED TO APOLOGIZE FOR. Even so she can easily add happiness to people’s day with just a hi and a hug.

@i2gyu - I- first impression: scary. IM KIDDING wait... actually even though that was a joke because she used to stop by and say “boo” I MAY OF ACTUALLY FELT INTIMIDATED BY HER AT FIRST. I think one of the first times we interacted was about a network and at the time I was ready to join a network SO I FELT SO BAD FOR SAYING NO. Afterwards tho I realized how nice she was and I always end up getting a little energetic once I see she’s sent in an ask. One day I’m scared I won’t see her change her url or blog, but that’s if she does again.

@fairycore-gyu - I haven’t interacted with anyone new recently and when I saw kira that obviously changed 😂. I related to her with music taste and stuff. LET ME TELL YOU when someone seems to have the same music taste I JUST my eyes light up. She was really welcoming and I instantly felt like I could message her anytime. I also just realized she’s a pisces 🥺.

@yoonjunie - I just remember thinking ooooo new moa writer! I think anyone who comes across her can say she’s very welcoming and sweet + she deserves everything she has. I really just wanted to support her 😂 I need to interact with her more and read more from her blog.

@hyeyoonwrites - yoonie 🥺 AHHHH okay 😂 first impression: LITERALLY THE SWEETEST. I know I’ve said that so many people here are sweet but yoonie is a different kind of sweet. I don’t know every single time I’ve interacted with her has felt like a soft hug. She’s supported me a lot and I really need to check up on her more frequently I feel guilty about it aifoshf.

@txtextme - gon I- even though we haven’t talked much she’s extremely funny and relatable. she just has this vibe that I love about her. I know I don’t have much to say, but I had to add her because she’s left an impact.

@yeonbins - VIVI HAS WONDERFUL GIFS. Every now and then I’ll see her post some stuff just talking and akfjskf. I mainly remember (I think) Starbucks getting her name wrong. Her names so pretty tho. I DIDNT EVEN REALIZE HOW MUCH OLDER SHE WAS THAN ME. I also played among us with her for a lil... I was scared she was gonna murder me 😂.

[littlefreya]

The Way to Hell - Part 9

MANY Thanks to @raspberrydreamclouds who designed this cover as a gift! ☝

Summary: Post Mi6, Alternate Canon. August escapes Ethan Hunt with his face intact and is currently the most dangerous man alive. Unwilling to back down from his murderous agenda, he plots to continue where he stopped, unaware of the trained assassin who is sent to bring him down.

Chapters: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10| Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Completed.

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Lacey)

Word count: 8.3k

Warnings: Dark themes, smut, fluff and angst. Unprotected sex, hints of stalking, violence, swearing, sexual mentions, slight gore, choking, death.   

A/N: Okay, this chapter is long, it was hard to write, you guys may never speak to me again after this. So I’ll just post it now, and turn off my phone and hide beneath the blanket with excessive anxiety. Thanks @agniavateira for editing my work and being my muse.💖 

As always, comments and feedback are more than welcome 💖💕

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

Title: Lacey

~*~

Have you paid the ferryman?

~*~

The cool light of fluorescent doesn’t do the honeyed gold of her hair justice. 

Doe eyes meet him, a striking green. Pure, like freshly-cut grass on a spring morning. The navy-coloured suit she wears counters the sunny shade of her slightly curly hair. She sports mid-length tassels, cut neatly just above her shoulders. She looks like she had it done this morning by the looks of it . 

“Hartmann, Lacey.”

Sitting at his desk with a pen pressed to his lips, the CIA agent observes her while ignoring the small hand in front of him. A tall, fit man in his late 20’s, face clean-shaven, hair like pure chocolate, combed neatly to the side but for a large rogue curl that falls on his brow. He collects it between his fingers and attempts to tuck it back in place.

“I don’t do partners, sweetcheeks.” he retorts after a short glance and turns away from the young agent, returning to his computer to browse a file he was just reading before she interrupted him.

An amused sigh passes through her plump lips as she shakes her head with sheer disbelief. “Do you have it any more cliche than that?” 

“I might, depending how long you are going to loom over there, princess.” August shoots back and slightly adjusts the tie around his shirt collar, not bothering to face the young woman again. It’s obvious what this is: a muzzler, or rather a babysitter in the form of a really good-looking girl. 

He fights the temptation to take another gander at the way her hair frames the apples of her rosy cheeks. 

“But since you’re already here, how about you fulfil your purpose in life and get me a cup of coffee? Double espresso, no sugar.”

August shoots her a look, observing her immediate reaction. Lacey’s green eyes widen, her mouth slightly opens. She rubs her knuckle between the soft pads of her fingers while thinking of what could be a suitable response to his disrespectful request.

I guess Erica didn’t bother prepping her.

Sloane, the heartless lioness. She leered at him with that sour look on her face since the day he stepped into the building. He swears the woman must have slices of lemons hidden in her panties. There is not even a drop of respect in those dark eyes whenever he sits in her office. Nor does she harbour any trust in his performance on the field. 

It all just worsened thanks to Ukraine. 

The explosion in the old Soviet power plant killed dozens of innocent lives at the cost of one. Though that man was responsible for the death of thousands, if not more. 

If you want to tear down a building, you better use a fucking hammer.

That cunt should thank him and promote him. 

“Nothing but daddy’s boy.” That��s what she sees in him. He might as well be another dead CIA agent like his father, then. Erased from memory, his great achievements discredited. At least he doesn’t have a family to throw to the dogs so they can rip them to shreds.

Oh Sloane, if only you knew half of the shit that goes beneath that stuck-up nose of yours.

Releasing another deep sigh, Lacey slumps to the seat in front of him, crossing her long legs together and leaning back in her chair while grabbing the folder on her desk. Her lips clamp together tightly, trying to hide the saltiness on her face. Long lashes curtain her eyes which pretend to read through the file. August rolls his eyes with annoyance, trying to ignore her existence and continue working his way through a case he’s been reading before she interrupted him. 

Yet every now and then his storm-touched eyes peer at the naive-looking woman, observing her and trying to determine how long will she last.

~*~

Is this hell?

~*~

That dusting of freckles on her nose and the fresh shimmer in her eyes give out much softness, yet she is anything but weak. Lacey Hartmann is a shield-maiden of some sort. For 2 months she withstood August’s “boot camp,” meaning she appeared unaffected by his cold demeanour.

At times there is even a hint of a smile hiding beneath that peach shade lipstick when August challenges her with an obscene dark joke. A hint of amusement tints the green of her irises, but she never dares to admit it. 

Too coy, almost chaste, yet iron-willed. 

August finds her behaviour borderline masochistic as he continues to prize her with nothing but arctic affection. Even so, she always listens when he speaks, her eyes open with pure intent, a fertile green field in her glance. 

Something spikes at the marrow of his bones, intrigue or so. Trivial thoughts find themselves latching into the tunnels of his complicated mind. His CIA brain begins to note her morning routine. A glacial stare registers the vanilla latte she drinks almost religiously every morning at 9, with two teaspoons of sugar. Lacey has a sweet tooth, it seems. She never misses dessert at the cantine and he once caught her bending the rules and sneaking candies back from their previous mission at eastern Europe.

He also noticed how when she is nervous, she twirls a finger in her hair with agitation and chews her plump lips. 

Blue is another point of interest. The colour seems to be dominant in her attire and accessories for some cryptic reason, though. not obsessively. She wears black or grey but then ties a silk scarf the shade of the sky around her delicate throat. When she is having a bad hair day, it’s the red pencil suit that draws attention to her body instead. The combination is horrifying when she sits in front of him holding her favourite mug which is glittery cerulean. 

He begins to wonder about her life outside of the headquarters. Her file rested in his apartment for weeks yet only recently he found himself bored enough to peek inside and read about her personal life. No husband is listed under her marital state, yet he wonders if a woman as attractive as Lacey has a man waiting for her at home. Someone kind, he imagines, and pitiful. She looks like a woman lacking a strong man in her life. 

“Are you going to finish that?” 

August’s brows furrow as she cuts into his adventurous trails of thought. His glassy eyes pierce at her as she sits in front of him at the cantine, sharing a lunch table. He hardly speaks during lunch anyway, and only listens to her musings with the usual sulk on his face. 

Lacey appears slightly frightened when she sees his menacing expression, yet her fright melts into a soft blush and a coy grin, in an attempt to pacify him. He nudges the plate with a slice of chocolate cake in her direction. 

“No, go ahead.” he watches as she digs her fork into it with excitement, her eyes shutting with near orgasmic pleasure as the chocolate melts on her tongue.  

His mind continues to wander, offering him possible imaginary visions of her personal life while she mumbles something in the background about the cake being outrageous. 

Her home address would be in that file too. 

It’s nothing but idle curiosity, after all.

~*~

You don’t believe in hell.

~*~

It’s been over 6 months of enduring her by his side. August imagined she’d run off crying to Sloane 2 days after being forced into this partnership, but she keeps a vow of secrecy, even when he bends a guideline or two during missions or violates nearly every HR policy. At first, she would warn him about his behaviour, but now she just calls it “The Walker Way”. 

It almost feels like he has a partner in crime. 

They arrived in Sicily a night ago, their mission is to locate and capture a millionaire-turned-terrorist and bring him in for questioning. It’s a  high profile target, which means the CIA spared no expense providing them with the finest hotel suites and fancy attire to attend a gallery opening. An informant suggested the suspect might be doing his bidding at the same mansion. 

Lacey meets August at the hotel’s main parking lot, wearing a cornflower blue mermaid-cut gown. Threads of silver adorn the outlines of her cleavage and little pieces of sparkling glitter draw his attention to her bust. He doesn’t attempt to hide the way his eyes fixate on her breasts. Beaming at the pale pink fat of her bosom before his gaze finally wanders to meet her face, giving her his regular cocky stance.

Is she wearing a bra underneath?

“You look handsome,” Lacey compliments, swallowing a complaint about the obvious way he objectified her. “We look as if we’ve matched colours.” The royal blue three-piece suit brings out the ocean in his eyes and she allows herself to dwell in the calm water as she glances back, offering him a smile.

Stoic, he ignores her praises, studying her face quietly. The shade on her lips is not the usual one; it’s darker, making her look more vamping. He doesn’t like it, her natural appearance is sweet and supple, and this colour clashes with her complexion and the concept of her in his mind.

The unnerving silence between them greatly challenges her. The need to crack the autumn evening air with some sort of dialogue pans in her chest. 

“Are you…” Lacey begins speaking when her eyes squint at the region of his mouth. “...growing a moustache?” Bold fingers reach up, ghosting over his upper lip where a few days’ stubble seems to grow longer than the rest on his jaw. August cocks his eyebrow as the tips of her fingers almost touch his mouth. She notices his disapproval and pulls her hand away apologetically.

“For the mission, I thought it might make me look older.” 

An amused smile cracks on her face, her cheeks rounding up to perfect blushing circles. “The real Mrs. Walker would be mortified.”  

August scoffs, rolling his eyes at the notion before turning away to watch the cars that pass by. His hand rests on his chest, straightening the vest underneath his suit and stretches the muscles of his back. A timid-blowing zephyr caresses his face; his Adam apple rises and drops dryly in his throat.

“Is there a…”

“Oh c’mon, Hartmann! You know the answer to the question, don’t act stupid and play small talk with me, it’s not your style.” 

Lacey’s lips press shut together, her green eyes dropping to the floor. She knows the only Mrs. Walker is his mother, and Madeleine has been gone for a couple of years now. Everything is in his file, allowing her to learn about the “mundane life” August Walker leads, or at least the ones he allows her to see through her CIA spectacles. 

It was an obligation to do the same with her. His old man once told him to learn who he’s dealing with before opening his “goddamn mouth.” That’s all there is to it, and his curiosity if he has to admit it.

Lacey Hartmann lives alone with her cat, Sir Podrick, on Hampshire St 457 on flat number 45. A magazine two-room apartment, picture-perfect, tidy to the point of OCD. She has an older sister but they rarely see each other. On her free weekends, she loves to watch romantic comedies while drinking hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows. 

He often wonders if her sweet tooth is compensating for something missing in her life. Yet there is never a man in her apartment.

Sometimes she dances in front of the window, especially after a hard day at the office. He can’t tell which music is playing in her headphones, but the way she moves her body makes him believe it’s something upbeat and cheerful. 

The images of her bedroom window vanish as a slightly irritating thought peaks in his mind at her comment. Mrs. Walker. A hiss of violent air shoots from his nostrils. 

Relationships were not something he cared to pursue. Life had other offerings. 

Besides, the women he liked were too tender and he was too rough. So, his conquests never lasted more than a night. 

Agitated, he pulls his sleeve to look at his Rolex, muttering something obscene under his breath which makes Lacey shift uncomfortably on her feet. The driver should have arrived by now. Every car that parks at the pebbled road bears disappointment, dropping off more honeymooners and rich, older married couples. 

A soft smile breaks on Lacey’s painted lips while she stares at August who’s facing the driveway with his fists clenched at the sides of his body.

“Well, since we’re stuck here waiting for a ride, you better entertain me.” Lacey speaks with grace, not a hint of nervousness or fright in her voice. She learnt how to deal with August and his tantrums by now. 

August remains silent, his sight never breaking from the driveway and the alley of palm trees that pave the path. 

“Or I guess we can stare at the big full moon,” she says to herself, lifting her eyes to the clear sky.

August stares back at the golden-haired woman, her long lashes fluttering gently as she counts the stars in her mind. A naive glint sparks her eyes as she’s captivated by her own fascination. The pale blue of the moon reflects on her milky skin, making her look like a siren in her beautiful dress.

“Yeah, it’s lovely,” he says in his deep voice. 

*~*

And even if it existed, hell wouldn’t have you.

*~*

The expo is held at a royal mansion of some sort. A large Sicilian palace that is owned by an ageing millionaire. Golden floral embellishments spread across the azure velvet walls, shimmering at the lights of the crystal chandeliers which dangle in the halls.   

Various ancient trinkets are placed in glass cubes. Crudely-made bows and arrows that were carved from cheap wood by a half-brain neanderthal are offered for the price of 200,000,000 Euros.    

Ridiculous.

Keen on finding their target, both August and Lacey decide to split up upon their arrival, planning their strategy ahead by protocol. August is the striking image of professionalism tonight, stretching his gaze around the large hallway. He has been this way for the last several missions, working by the book, making sure to perform as clean as possible, whatever that means in CIA terms. 

He even managed to win a word of praise from Sloane, who still can’t stand the very sight of his face. But at least she ceased from eating his head at the conclusion of every mission. 

And Lacey seems to appreciate it, too. 

The brooding man spends the night pretending to be enthralled by the exhibition and its boring guests who continually attempt to strike pointless conversations with him. As part of his task, he only speaks with those who seem to be an asset and brushes others away by answering in fluent Italian, pretending to not understand a word in English while smiling at them politely. 

Blending in, the young agent stands by one of the bars, leaning onto the marble counter and enjoying some type of strawberries-in-cream dessert which was offered to him by a tall,  abnormally attractive waitress who’s been walking around with a silver tray. 

Lacey would love this fruit-pudding thingy, he muses as his fingers brush through the mid-length stubble above his lip. His eyes carefully scan the room for any group of men in their late 30s for a clue or a sign. 

The sound of a woman’s laughter chips away his attention like a siren’s call.

So that’s how she sounds like when she laughs. 

Grabbing a glass of champagne, he steps forward on the black carpeted floor, following the cheerful voice as it rolls delightfully in his ears. Storm clouds gather in his eyes. The siren is behaving unprofessionally to the point of being offensive. A tall glass of half-empty Lambrusco hangs between her slender fingers while her head falls back; her hand rests on her chest, trying to contain her laughter. 

She is the centre of attention to a group of famished men. 

August frowns with disapproval. She’s supposed to act drunk, not get buzzed. Standing at the large pathway, he watches how she smiles widely, mouth gaping, small dimples peeking at the corner of her lips. The honey of her hair makes her stand out in a room of dark beauties, the shade of her dress an anchor for any travelling eyes.

He takes an irritated sip from his champagne, swallowing the sparkly liquid, trying to ignore the bells of laughter which begin to sound like an insult, meant to provoke him. His piercing eyes search for the target in the room, focusing on the task on hand and being the professional his father urged him to be. 

Yet as if magnetized, his glare returns to her.  

For a moment there he nearly forgets that she is a CIA agent. The men around her flirt nearly barbarically, their mouths salivating with predatory hunger. Is she too pure to understand their intentions? The vultures are waiting to tear her limb by limb. Possibly hoping she will be drunk enough to be dragged by one of them.

The storm inside him rages. Thoughts of her being tainted by one of these hideous men enter his mind and poison bubbles in his throat, drowning him in anger.

He puts his champagne flute on the tray of one of the hostesses who passes by. He fixes his tie over his neck and swallows hard. His strides are confident and charismatic as he marches into their circle abruptly, reaching an arm over to Lacey. 

“Sweetheart, here you are. Come see this piece, you’re going to love it.” hee speaks with contained anger, his baritone loud and clear, roaring through his puffed chest and squared shoulders.

Lacey turns to smile at him as he latches his fingers around her forearm, rescuing her by pulling her away from the predators with as much elegance he can muster at his current aggravated mood.

“Are you fucking drunk, Hartmann? What’s wrong with you?! We have a dangerous man to catch.” He whispers angry and low in her ear, carrying her toward an open terrace where they can discuss and re-strategize the mission.

The cool breeze caresses their faces, tenderly running through their hair as they approach the open air. The young woman continues to giggle as August’s fingers tickle beneath her armpit while he takes her to stand next to the large renaissance modules that hide them from the guests of the event. He lets go of her forearm, looking down at her with a scowl.

“Relax, I was trying to make it look convincing with these decadent, empty idiots.” she attempts to pacify him, looking up into his eyes, her head reaching just beneath his square chin. 

“Isn’t it ridiculous?”

“What is?”

“The way they sell these artefacts on such a high price when it was created by a primitive creature who ate his own fleas,” she mocks with a mischievous smile. “This is the end of human culture, this capitalistic point of view.”

A cold shiver crawls at August’s spine as he hears her speaking of his ideals. He had never seen her this way before. 

So opinionated, so bold. 

Has she been reading my mind?

They have never been this physically close, he can smell the lupines on her skin and the Lambrusco on her breath. Lacey’s amused grin begins to relax somewhat, her eyes now staring at something with stark fascination.

“You have a brown spot in one of your eyes.”

August brow furrows even deeper, dark lines forming between his thick eyebrows as the woman ogles him in a bizarre way. His blood thickens as the pleasant wind brushes at his face.

“Sectoral heterochromia, I was born with it.”

“It’s beautiful,” she answers with an enchanted glare, batting her lashes and moving further to study the shape of his flaw. Her feet arch to the tip of her toes, reaching higher to his face. August remains still, watching as if within a haze when her lips crash onto his. 

Chills spiral through his nerves, his eyes wide open as her soft lips press into his in a long, chaste kiss. There is a small hum in her voice, painted lashes look like black curved trails as her eyes shut with an enchantment. For a second he can feel her body press into his, her breasts grinding at his broad chest. She slowly detaches from him, opening her eyes and falling flat on her feet.

Alarm spills onto her face, her hand covering her mouth with guilt as panic surges. August stares back without a sign of emotion on his arctic face.

“I’m so sorry!” She calls out in utter embarrassment, moving away from him by a step.

His breath grows rigid, his mind a war. In an instant, he pulls her wrist away from her face and claims her into his grasp, kissing her earnestly, even violently. Lacey’s moans melt into his mouth, her body crashing into his, writhing as her lips gape, accepting his insidious tongue. 

She tastes like sugar.

August slams her against the wall, growling as her hands roam down his body and messing his outfit. A fervent stir tingles at his groin and the way she squeezes the muscles of his behind and tries to shove her hands under his trousers does nothing to relax his racing heart. Depraved, his hand pushes between her legs, trying to cup her heat through the tight dress, yet it cages her legs too tightly. 

“I want you out of this fucking dress.” August growls, breaking the passionate kiss to breath hot and heavy in her ear. 

“Then take me back to the hotel.” she retorts breathlessly, grinding her pelvis into the growing hardness in his groin.

“We can’t, the mission.”

Lacey emits a frustrated huff, sounding as if she’s meaning to beg as her body constantly pushes into his in a snakelike dance. “Forget about him, he’s not here, we’ll do it the Walker way.”

There is nothing in this world strong enough to convince him otherwise as those big doe eyes peer at him with admiration and a sense of need he never received from any woman before. It wasn’t like the women who begged him to fuck them as he tormented and delayed their release.

For the first time in his life, he felt purely wanted.

~*~

The ride back to the hotel is the most dreadful experience he had to endure in his life. Both Lacey and he sit at each side of the car, avoiding eye contact whilst their organs throb with aching need. She keeps her fingers laced together while the driver listens to some old Italian love song and sings along the tunes on the radio. August attempts to avoid drowning into his thoughts but the idea of having her tonight makes the blood pool hot in his loins.

They hardly make it into her room. Exploiting every moment left in solitude to make out like horny teenagers. Whenever a hotel staff member or a guest passes by, they break away from one another in the most obvious manner.

As they finally arrive at the suite, August kicks the door shut with his foot and preys at her, his talons reaching for her face, his thumb wiping off whatever remains of her lipstick before kissing her again. 

“I don’t like this, it isn’t you.” he states in between invigorated kisses while Lacey battles to take off his clothes, pushing the blazer off his shoulders and then working the buttons of his vest and shirt with lust guiding her fingers. She ignores his remark, answering with another breathless kiss instead while moving to fumble with his belt.

Their feet kick at one another as August leads them toward the king-size bed, fondling the curves of her body through the terrible prison that is her dress. His long legs nearly lose their balance as she successfully unzips his trousers and finds him fully erect and pulsating in her small hand. 

Logic turns to steam at the manipulation of her hands. His gasps resonate through the length of his throat, giving in to the whispers of his heart. How long yearned for her, wanting to keep her in the birdcage of his vision. 

Lacey, so bold yet so sweet.   

With the swiftness of his hands, he turns her around, tugging at the zipper of her dress while dotting her collarbone with possessive nibbles. Her naked figure unveils to him as a flower opens to the sunlight of spring.

Left in nothing but her baby-blue lace underwear, she steps out of her dress and moves to face the large naked man, pacing back as he sneaks toward her like a direwolf. The look on her face is admirable. Drenched of fear and desire at once, feeding his natural dominance.

“August…” she whispers his name. Her lips quiver at the sight of his broad form, appreciating every sinew, every muscle. August reaches to hold his cock as the blood stirs into it with rage, wanting to be inside this angel, to taint her and mark every piece of skin. 

“I don’t have a condom.” he warns, licking his lips as she slides her underwear down her long, creamy legs. Her mound is completely waxed, just the way he wants it. Pure.  

“I’m clean and protected.”

Inviting him into her mysteries, Lacey offers him a devoted stare and reaches her delicate hand toward him. No clarity is left in his mind; desire clouds every rational thought, every self-preservation instinct. He ignores her hand and lunges at her like a predator.

They fall into a sea of silken sheets together, August covering her body with his, giving no care of how his weight crushes her. His hands hold her wrists pinned to the mattress as he pushes her smooth thighs apart with his knees.

Lacey’s moans are mesmerizing as he sinks himself into her wonders. Singing her pleasure at him like a true siren. An overwhelmed groan breaks from his own lips as the wetness of her flesh encloses around his cock, sucking him from within with an embrace of lust. Soft and delicate, she writhes against his crude, rugged body and he thrusts inside her with teetering grunts, taking her with sheer, primal dominance. 

She feels different, like no other woman he ever had before. Completely submissive to his darkest desires. Her body opens to him, like a precious, heavenly nymph and he takes what he wants. Deeper and deeper, drowning into her womb, never wanting to stop, invigorated by the way her hands clutch at his body with the same desperation that is in his chest.

For three days, they never leave the suite. Lost in a carnal euphoria that makes both of them forget the existence of the outer world.

~*~

Oh, hell indeed exists, it’s on the earth you walked your entire life.

~*~

The delicious aroma of crispy, caramelized bacon and fluffy pancakes tickles his senses to wake up. Salty and sweet, the scent draws him to sit upon the bed that’s slightly too small for his wide frame. A drowsy smirk crawls onto his face. This scent is his second favourite thing to wake up to.  

Locating his cobalt trunks on the floor, he hauls himself out of her bed, pulls them on and tries to tame the messy bundle of curls on his head while he walks to find her in the kitchen. The bacon sizzles on the pan as Lacey stands next to the stove in his buttoned-up shirt. She is flipping an impossible quantity of pancakes and frying strips of bacon in another pan. 

Her rounded ass peeks at him with every shift her body makes.

August sneaks behind her with the skill of a CIA agent, looming closer and wrapping his arms around her torso, his chin resting on the top of her head, while his hungry eyes feast on the pancakes and amber bacon.

Lacey flinches in his grip, he can feel her heart jump for a moment before she relaxes into his embrace, lips melting into a wide smirk as August rocks her from side to side.

“Morning,” she hums delightfully. “Go sit, there is freshly brewed coffee waiting for you.”

August drops a kiss on the top of her head, a low growl of serenity climbing up his throat. “You’re a dream, princess.”

And you’re all mine. 

With a wisp of unwillingness, he detaches from her and walks to the table, where Lacey’s favourite mug of coffee awaits him with steam rising from within. His eyes are a calm sea sparkling at the sunrise as he looks at her with admiration. 

Everything about her tips him across the edges of sanity; the way she smiles at his horrible dark jokes, the way she listens to everything he says with devotion and appeal, the way she speaks about her ideals and sees him like no person ever did before.

Lacey turns her head and sneaks a small glance at him, giving a smile and a wink before returning to the stove.

It took 5 months to admit to himself that he likes this, that he enjoyed being here, with her and her stupid cat, or in every distant location in the world. It didn’t matter if they were in Afghanistan or Paris, as long as he got to listen to her breathing in her slumber. That night in Sicily wasn’t just mindless sex. It was a union of two souls. They spent the night talking and while he was reluctant to open up-as he still is-he was stunned to find out just how much this woman shared similar points of views.

Though she never says it specifically, Lacey wants to watch the world burn. 

He hasn't even told her about his idea, not yet. It’s probably too soon anyway as he only started formulating his intention a couple of months ago. A part of him still fears how she may react if she finds out he’s been selling CIA secrets and dealing weapons right beneath Sloane’s nose. 

“I hope you’re hungry,”

Lacey calls out as she places two large plates of pancakes and bacon on the table and walks quickly to get the maple syrup from the counter. Sir Podrick jumps on the table as she puts the syrup next to the plates. Aggravated, August shoos the cat away and reaches to grab the woman's forearm, forcing her into his lap possessively.

“You know I am, princess.” he murmurs as he kisses her shoulder and then her lips, before grabbing a piece of pancake and some bacon with his fork and nibbling it deliciously. Lacey remains on his lap, grabbing a stripe of bacon from his plate and chewing on it with a pleasant moan before directing her gaze to August.

“How long do you think we can keep this a secret?” she asks, slight concern appearing on her face. August swallows the remaining pancake in his mouth and sips some coffee to clear his throat. His fingers thread through the gold of her hair, combing the large waves repeatedly.

“I don’t want them to take you away from me.”

His voice is nearly that of a child.

The agency’s protocol won’t allow partners to be in a relationship due to an incredible conflict of interest. “Sloane would lose her shit if she’d find out this entire time we’ve been doing this.” He chuckles dryly and shoves another piece of pancake into his mouth while still looking at Lacey. The first morning rays shine through the wide-open window, basking her face with a shimmering summer glow. 

“We can run away,” she teases. “Buy a yacht, tell Erica to go fuck herself and sail the sea.”

August smirks, his hand descending to the small of her back as images of embarking to the great unknown with her fill his chest with euphoric bliss. 

A daydream, perhaps in the future, after mankind is free.  

“I think she’s beginning to warm up to me though.” 

“Well, she did start calling you The Hammer after the last mission.” Lacey answers and grabs the mug from August’s side, stealing a mischievous sip. “If only they knew it has a different meaning to some of us.”

August crooks his eyebrow up at Lacey and wipes his moustache clean. His hands reach to tickle the sides of her belly, causing her to let go of the mug before he snatches it back. Her giggles make his heart feel at ease, something he’ll never dare to tell or show her. 

Asserting his dominance by only giving as much. 

“Why did you join the agency in the first place? You never told me.” she wraps her arms around his shoulders, the green of her eyes appearing yellow at the ray of sunlight that beams on her face.

His gaze falls upon the table, staring at the remnants of the pancakes while licking his teeth. Thoughts of his past begin to echo in the chasm of his mind. 

The day his mom fell to her knees and let out a banshee-like howl of agony at the empty ceiling as two agents came into their house.

He was 13, and from that moment on, he was all alone in a cold, ravenous world. 

“I wanted to die for the government, just like my father.” he spits out, thinking of how his life turned over one autumn morning. A tall, lanky boy who couldn’t even comfort his mother as she tore off tufts of her hair. 

August didn’t even cry, not since then.  

The curious look on Lacey’s face fades into sadness, compassion welling on her now golden-green irises. “You never told me how he died.” 

A muscle twitches in his cheek, his eyebrows knitting together as anger begins to slightly boil his blood. “Like all heroes, forgotten. I don’t know how, it was during a mission in Moscow. Nothing in his files but a mention on an accident, no details other than that.” 

“Is that why you have such small faith in the government?” Lacey asks innocently, referring to their pillow-talk. The ones they have while she presses her soft cheek to his chest and draws invisible circles onto his chest.  

The lump in his throat dries as he remembers the weeks that followed after his father was gone. They were thrown to the dogs to be gnawed at. No compensation, no financial support, and no one to comfort young August. 

His mother couldn’t even look at him anymore. Those blue soulful eyes, the cleft of his chin, and even the shape of his nose were inherited from his father. 

The most pain August has ever endured was when someone he loved was unable to look at him anymore.  

Madeleine was a loyal housewife from the midwest who never took a real job. Arthur provided for them. While he wasn’t the warmest father, he kept his family close, taking them with him on his trips, unless they were too dangerous. 

By the time August was seven, he’s already been to all continents. 

After his father’s death, both the money and his mother withered away. Having no experience in anything but waiting tables, Madeleine couldn't support her own child and perhaps she didn’t want to. The boy was a painful memory of what she lost. 

The last he remembers of her, she dragged him with her to church and went on her knees as August sat on the bench. She prayed and cried out to God until her knees bled and her eyes rimmed red from the tears she wept.

But God never answered.

That week, social services arrived at their door. He never saw her since that day and needless to say, no one wanted a hostile 13-year-old boy. 

August turns his face to stare at Lacey, examining her round, freckled face and her plump, pink lips. They make her look like a renaissance painting of an angel. At times, he’s afraid that his rage will tarnish her, swallow the light of her spirit. Yet he can never hold back, fucking her so roughly, she hurts for days. His instincts drive him to spill all his fury into her cavities. To offer all the spite and hurt that poisoned his soul, as if it will cleanse him. 

And for a few seconds, he is sanctified. Coming inside her makes him feel complete in every sense of the word.   

The soft purring of Lacey’s cat grounds him to reality. The chubby ginger cat rubs around his leg affectionately, his yellow diamond eyes staring at August. 

“Let’s not talk about it, anymore,” he replies in a somewhat final tone.

Lacey nods at him, giving him a look full of understanding. Her fingers reach behind his ear, stroking the soft chocolate curls and tucking them back. “Okay, Aug. But we really need to talk about that!” 

Her fingers move to point at his thick moustache, her eyes narrowing with disdain. 

August strokes his moustache with his thumb and index finger and lets them slide down the stubble of his square chin. “You don’t like it?”

Lacey shakes her head with protest, trying her best to appear irritated. “No.”  

Princess is so cute when she pretends to be angry.

August offers her a smug smirk in return, grabbing the last remaining piece of bacon from his plate and sliding it whole into his mouth. “Too bad, it stays.” he answers with his mouth full, grease smearing on the corners of his lips. “It makes me look dangerous and you love it.”

“No, you look like pornstar.”

“I’d fuck you like one.” he answers with a dark glint in his eyes. In a sudden movement, he places both hands on Lacey’s waist and stands up with her in his grip. The woman squeals with surprise as he flings her over his shoulder with little to no effort and stings her ass with a sharp slap.

“Do you want it here, sweetheart, or in the bedroom?” he asks and bites the fat of her behind. Lacey cries out in pain, her legs kicking the air.

He loves to hear her laugh, just as much as he loves to hear her scream.

*~*

If hell is on earth, then what does it make you?

*~*

Like a creature dwelling in the darkness, he sits in the bleak hours of the night, fingers stroking the keys as if he’s a composer, conducting his symphony of destruction. The flesh of his lips chafe at the lack of sleep and insufficient fluids, yet he gives no care. 

This will be his legacy, his gift to the world, his gift to her.

The pale teal light of the screen flickers lightly on his weary corneas. It’s nothing but pixels, black on white, five blocks of paragraphs for now, but the raw power in words proceeds beyond any other weapon known to mankind. So pure, so cataclysmic. 

Just like an atomic reaction.

She will see through his eyes soon. The potential, the greater good. All her words of breaking the system, about dreaming of a better world. A sweet, naive girl with a mind fed with agenda. It was as if they were threaded into one another’s life, destined to be. 

The paving of a new world has already begun. They call themselves the apostles, a group of no more than 12 people, men and women of science and power. Their identities are unknown among one another. It matters very little, the seeds have been sown into the earth. Small acts of terror, biological and chemical incidents around selected locations around the globe, just enough to test the waters. 

Greatness from small beginnings.

It will take time, yet he is patient, and his little angel of destruction will be by his side once the time is right. All mankind will be reunited in peace after the earth will shudder beneath their feet.

~*~

Does it make you a monster?

~*~

Something sharp prods his mind to wake up. A nightmare, whispering toxic words in the darkness. He hears a vague ruffle in the webbed darkness of the night and he blindly reaches his palm to stroke her and finds himself abandoned. There is a knot in his gut and a storm brewing in his mind. Carefully and silently, he reaches for the loaded gun in his nightstand and slips out of bed. 

Pale blue and humming, a soft light invites him to follow to the office next to his bedroom. His heart drums heavily in his chest, his face falling as his vision becomes clear. Bright pink winks through the molten mixture of shadow and light. She hovers over his open computer, spreading files and paper plans over the surface of his desk, all the while holding her digital camera, violating his secrets.

Whatever is in his chest shrieks and bleeds with misery.

“Would be more efficient if you’d switch the light on.”

The woman jumps as she hears his voice and a heavy flood of bright light showers her crimes as August flicks the switch on. She straightens up, as stiff as a frozen tree. Unable to face him right away, her face remains hidden from him. August can see the spasm of her legs beneath her nightdress.

“What are you doing?” August asks, his voice low and menacing, eyes travelling from the Nikon camera that hangs from her hand to his secret scribbles as they lay on his desk, right next to his open manifest. 

“Look at me.” he demands, stern and composed as he can. 

Lacey turns slowly to peer at him, her lips aquiver, eyes shining with guilt. The only sound from her is the shudder of her breath that rushes through her heaving chest. 

The hurt must have blinded his thoughts. He doesn’t remember aiming his gun at her head, it’s only when he sees the woman’s surrendering gesture does he register his actions.

Taking a deep breath, he lowers his gun and places it carefully on the floor. His hands splay in the air, disarmed, offering a truce as he stretches to stand straight. 

“Was I…” he swallows the dryness in his throat and licks his lips. 

It would take a real fool to be so blind to see what was in front of him the whole time. 

“I was your mission?”

Lacey remains quiet, her eyes refusing to meet his. Tears glide down the apples of her rosy cheeks. 

“Tell me the truth Lacey, please. I just want to understand.” The threat in his voice turns soft, becoming nearly a plea as he takes one step forward, watching the woman flinch and step back, her behind colliding with the desk.

The woman weeping in front of him is a trained CIA agent, yet the despair in her eyes shows no signs of panning struggle. The only way out of this room is through him, a man who is nearly twice her size and knows her every move.

“Erica suspected you’re the one who is leaking secrets, so she sent me…”

That’s why she inquired so much, wanted to hear his thoughts, to sleep at his home despite his reluctance. He agreed for the first time tonight, unaware of her insidious intentions. 

Did you really think you deserve this?

August scoffs, his heart clenching painfully in his battered lungs. 

He was wrong. There is something more painful than having someone you love never look back at you. 

“Did she tell you to sleep with me?”

Lacey’s gaze drops to the floor in silence; her answer is nothing but a pathetic sniffle as she pinches her nose.

Bile rises in his throat as he sees shame on her face, so obvious, so obscene. Her purity was false. 

There was nothing sweet or innocent about her, she was nothing but a whore.

“Answer me!!!” he rumbles, more beast than man. 

Lacey jumps and sobs with panic, nodding her head at him with her confession.  “Ye..Yes… any means possible.”

Running his palm through his face and groaning with frustration, the young CIA agent exhales hoarsely. He takes another small step towards her, gradually closing the distance between them, watching his shadow loom on her porcelain skin.

Lacey’s eyes widen with panic. Her ankles kick back the wooden legs of the desk, her hands scattering August’s belongings. White sheets of paper fly down to the floor, ink smudged by tears.

“Stay away,” she warns.

“Does she know? Did you tell her or anyone else at the agency?” he ignores her pathetic threats, taking another step closer. Her floral scent fills his nostrils, nearly triggering his instinct to claim her lips. His gaze softens with an ocean of mercy as she shakes in front of him so violently, breaking into tears of grief. 

Delicate fingers cup her jaw, sliding across the slick moistness of her tears as he tilts her chin up. “Please, tell me the truth.” 

Lacey lifts her gaze to meet his, her eyes puffy and red, her plump lips swollen. She wipes her nose with the back of her palm. “I had nothing to report, until now.”

His grasp tightens around her chin, forcing her head back to look at the text flickering on the monitor. “All this talk about a better world, I thought this is what you wanted.”

She snaps her head back to glare at him, eyes narrowing with disgust and anxiety. “You thought I’d like this?! This is sick!”

August’s nostrils flare yet he gives a gentle nod of understanding and hushes her sudden surge of stress. His hand caresses her round, damp face. The thick pads of his thumbs wipe the salty tears away from her skin and his body presses into hers. 

Even a tremoring mess, she is still so soft and warm. 

“Did you ever love me?” 

His lips are merely an inch from her temples as he whispers. His large hand slides down her cheek, stroking down her jaw and descending further below her chin.  

Unable to muster another lie, she remains silent, aware of the fact that the sand in the hourglass has all but diminished, along with her chances of survival.

Words are unnecessary. The truth speaks loudly in her eyes, the poisonous infidelity was always there all along. Struck by her angelic beauty he was too blind to see, leeching onto false heaven, a childish fantasy of love that never existed.

Small spots of blood begin to form in her wide-open eyes as his long fingers lock around her thin neck, squeezing with intensifying force. Tighter, harder. His name remains caged in her throat as she fights for the air she thinks she deserves. 

“No, you didn’t.” August whispers, his vision beginning to blur. “You never did.”

Strangled yips of pain wheeze through her mouth. Struggling frantically while August hardly even bats an eyelid, staring at her with no emotion on his face. Desperate arms reach out to both heaven and hell, her body squirms and her eyes plead for August to let go. 

Begging for her life.

Something breaks inside her throat. Her last breath follows, a short gasp, frozen in her body for eternity as both her heart and her eyes become still. 

August glances at her pale skin, her gaping lips stained violet, her bloodied eyes glassy, returning his broken reflection.

Sorrowful tears roll down the lines of his face as his heart pumps with pain black as tar. A loud gasp of agony rips from him, shuddering across his entire existence as the very base of his soul chars in his chest. Broken, he falls to his knees with Lacey cradled in his arms, his hand stroking her dull hair and her blue cheeks while husky cries of anguish come through his throat.

All emotions end. An empty abyss claims the spot where his soul once laid. The only thing left to him now is pure, undistilled hatred.

~*~

I am the one who reigns in hell.

~*~

Black cold liquid seeps into weary lungs. Skeletal hands caress his face unkindly, the thin bones, so hard and frozen as they travel down his grey cheeks. No grace is given to him, no redemption. This was nothing but a dream of a life. 

As tar oozes from his throat, her voice continues to call for him. 

His last memories are of Erica, sitting on her throne of lies, swallowing his accusations while peering at him through her dark eyes. Face filled with guilt, oh, she didn't have a clue. Everyone believed Lacey Hartmann was the double agent this entire time. Angelic eyes hiding dark secrets. He planted the evidence in her house, in her computer, sparing his manifest of course. Just enough to tarnish her name forever. 

A painful wheeze splits his throat. Iron tinged his tongue. 

The promotion was won right after the body was cremated. A fine medal given for having his life put at risk.  

Glory and fame won over the woman you loved.

I never loved her. She was a lying whore, she betrayed me.

But you did love me, August. 

Blood spills through his mouth as he coughs. His blue eyes shoot open, peering at a great hole in the ceiling and the dust that floats calmly in the chill air of night. The pain sears his shoulder, throbbing furiously to remind him there is still blood running through his veins. He grunts as he clutches at the gaping wound, trying to hold onto the blood that still remains in his wretched heart. 

Run and hide, little Ingvild

I am no one but Lucifer himself. 

I will have my vengeance.  

__________________________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own Mission Impossible franchise or August Walker