#all because they have some weird thing about only having 1 driver in each series along the ladder and decided to let one guy skip a series

[molliemoo3]

The fact you can get 3rd in f3 and be the 2nd highest place rookie, and still get dropped by your driver academy is a pretty fucking awful look for driver academies

[drvscarlett]

THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT

Pierre Gasly x ex!reader

Summary: The 4 times that they break up and get back together and that 1 time they didn't.

The Tortured Drivers' Department series

A/N: im on a roll with updating the Tortured Drivers Department now that im nearly done with every reqs. I hope you enjoy this and let me know what you think or feel about this

Taglist. @tea-bobba @boiohboii @c-losur3 @haikyuen @stelena-klayley @stinkyjax @0710khj @jinimon-tr

"You're not Dylan Thomas, I'm not Patti Smith This ain't the Chelsea Hotel, we're modern idiots"

Pierre and Y/N are the type of people that is confusing to talk about. No one really knows the big deal between the two of them, are they friends or are they lovers? One minute everything is all good, they are about to go to the store and pick out rings then the next thing that you know they already broke up. What was constant was that they always find their way back to each other.

Maybe it’s the lifestyle that makes it work; Pierre is a famous F1 driver that travels the world most of the year while Y/N is a grand recluse of a writer that is trying to find her way to the market. They don’t need much time from each other, and they understand the busy structure of their work.

Maybe its also the fact that they have years of friendship backing them up that's why they were able to last long with each others antics. So, what happened to them?

I.

The first kind of break ups were pretty silly. It was usually something that could be fixed in a matter of hours or a day being away from each other. Its something very random and weird like this.

"Wait, so you are breaking up with me because you are writing?"Pierre was confused.

Pierre had been in relationships before but he has never once heard of someone wanting to break up with him because she has to meet a certain deadline.

He felt very whiplash by the whole situation because she was just kissing him and they were cuddling in bed in the morning. Now she wants to break up with him.

"Yes Pierre, I need to be in my most heartbroken self to write my best lines"Y/N confirms.

"So does this mean that once you finish this thing you are working on then we can get back together?"Pierre clarifies.

Y/N nods as she brings out her working laptop and a notebook.

"So should I say something mean or should I just leave you be to your senses?"Pierre wondered.

"Do you really wanna break up with me so badly?"Y/N had too much of Pierre's question

Pierre raised his hands in defeat.

"Okay then lets break up"

Pierre headed straight back to his room to allow Y/N to work on her things. He chuckles at himself with the weird antics of his girlfriend, (or should he say ex girlfriend) but he busies himself with some emails that he has from work.

It took Y/N two days before she comes crawling to their shared bed. Pierre was in a sleepy state when Y/N snuggled to his arms.

"Are you done?"Pierre wondered.

"Yeah,just passed my manuscript"Y/N agrees.

"Can I call you my girlfriend again?"

II.

Qualifying was extremely difficult today with Pierre taking p15. To make matters worse there was this pressing issue that Pierre might be axed from the team. It honestly frustrated him to the point that he was only doing sim work, training, and more training.

It worries Y/N a great deal especially when Pierre seems so out of it.

"Pierre c'mon get some rest" Y/N begged.

It was already 2 in the morning and there was still a race tomorrow but he insisted on hitting the gyms to train.

"You are going to be exhausted later during the race if you keep doing this"Y/N reminds.

"I don't care, I have to work hard"

"Pierre please listen to me"

"You're the one who is not listening to me"Pierre snaps "Don't you realize that I have the possibility to lose everything that I have worked hard for if they cut me off the team."

Y/N was in shock with the sudden outburst and if Pierre was in his usual self then he would have immediately apologized for raising his tone. But Pierre was far from thinking clearly.

"Pierre that was not nice"

"Nothing is ever nice in this world"scoffs Pierre.

"Look I'm just trying to help you he-"

"You know what, why not just break up with me so I can focus on my thing without anyone nagging" Pierre suggested.

She could feel the tears prickling her eyes and threatening to fall. But her mother did not raise her cry over a stupid boy like this.

"You're really going there huh" Y/N said "See if I care"

With a slam of the door, Y/N was gone and Pierre felt even more antsy than ever. It wasn't the fact that he has a messed up weekend but he has the possibility of messing up a good relationship because of his blind rage.

In a couple of hours despite Y/N implying that she didn't care, she was at the race patiently waiting for the lights to go out. It was difficult for her to just leave Pierre especially when he is in this state of mind.

But of course, Y/N's pride was something that she holds dear that is why she didn't show up to Pierre's garage. It is kind of weird to see the crowd of yellow and black colors but Y/N was so glad that she has Isa by her side to join her during the race.

"Never gets easier to let him go for races huh"Y/N comments as she watched Isa putting on Carlos' helmet.

"Well, I'm sure he tries his best to be careful on the track" Isa smiled.

"Why aren't you giving any pre-race goodluck kisses to Pierre? He might need it" Carlos suggested.

Y/N could just roll her eyes, Pierre wasn't superstitious like that.

"Okay laugh all you want but don't make me say I told you so if he gets involved in an accident"Carlos warns.

"Don't mind Carlos, he is just joking"Isa shrugs it off.

"But Isa, its true remember when-"

"Stop stressing Y/N out Carlos, go race and be safe"

"Aye aye"

Y/N watched the playful interaction before the couple parted ways. The scene struck a chord in her heart because she knew that she could never act that way with Pierre. Their whole relationship was a secret that only the grid knows Y/N is off limits. But outside the grid, no one knows about it. Fans equate them as close friends but never more than that.

"What's on your mind honey?"Isa asked

"Nothing Isa, I'm okay"

Y/N showed a weak smile and Isa was hesitant to press things but she just let friend be.

"Look the race is starting"Y/N diverts.

The sound of the engines filled the air and off the cars go. Y/N watched as everyone gets off with a decent start, she could only hope that there was no incident today especially for Pierre's sake.

Everything happened all of a sudden as white smoke filled the air and a loud collision was heard. The cameras were quick to pan to the accident and the two girls clutched each other's hands as the smoke clears.

"It's Nico, its not Carlos" someone from the garage reassured Isa and the girl could feel a sigh of relief.

However, the same cannot be said to Y/N as the frustrated team radio of Pierre can be heard and the familiar livery was seen in the middle of the wreck.

Any amount of pride or memory of what he said last night was suddenly thrown out of the window. She just wants to know how he is or if he is safe from that tragic collision.

"Y/N, they're going to check on Nico" Isa pointed out to some Renault people "You should probably go since Pierre would be there too"

Y/N was about to deny that she didn't want to see him but Isa had a stern look on her face.

"Just go honey"

And she comes running to the medical bay to look for the injured man. She was a bit thankful that precautions have been made in this sports that allowed drivers to walk away from such accident without major damages.

Maybe, a bruised ego is their biggest worry now.

"Y/N"Pierre was confused to see her.

Maybe the damage has been far more worse than he imagined because he was now seeing things. As far as he could recall, Y/N was not around when the race started. So how is she here?

"God, you scared me P"Y/N wrapped him in a hug.

Pierre was a little bit sore from the crash but there was this instant warm feeling knowing that Y/N didn't abandon him. Even if he was really moody and too shitty, Y/N was still there for him.

He remembers how terrible it was being in that car and thinking that the last memory he shared with Y/N is a bad one. He didn't feel great at all so he held her as if its his second chance.

"I didn't mean what I said last night"Pierre whispered "I'm really sorry for hurting your feelings. I wasn't thinking straight and there is just a lot of pressure-"

"It's okay, I know Pierre"Y/N consoles "I won't be leaving you anytime soon"

A chaste kiss was shared between the two of them, a symbol that they have reunited once more.

III.

The third time they broke up was when Pierre asked her hand for marriage and she didn't say anything.

After being constantly invited to weddings, Pierre is bound to pick up some courage to ask Y/N out. He developed this dream that he wants a life with Y/N and he is ready to take it to the next level. Knowing Y/N, he picked the right size and the perfect ring. He also knows her dream proposal place which is somewhere with a view of the city.

He had everything planned out perfectly so imagine his surprise when she answers.

"Pierre, I can't do this" Y/N dropped the bomb.

"What? Why?"

Y/N felt like an extreme asshole because everything was perfect. Any girl would say yes to this prime opportunity of marrying their childhood bestfriend but Y/N sees through things.

"Pierre we aren't even official to the public and now you want to escalate it to marriage" Y/N reasons.

"So that's it, you don't want to marry me because I can't call you mine in public?"

"It's not just that" Y/N sighs "but our careers are just taking off and we haven't talked about our relationship yet and suddenly were going to go to marriage"

What Y/N saying was valid but Pierre was not listening to any of it. He felt very crushed and he could not think straight at the moment.

"Let's just break up if you can't see a future with me"

"Pierre, you know that's not what I meant"

"Then tell me how would you feel if the person you truly loved didn't want to marry you"Pierre roared.

It was a devastating scene between the two of them. How Y/N wished that she could undo what she said a few minutes ago but she knows that she only means well. A rushed marriage will also lead to rush separation and she will not put herself to that.

"Let's break up then, I think its best if we go our seperate ways for the time being"Pierre concludes.

It took them three long weeks before they got back together. It was due to an intervention by Charles that allowed them to speak again and talk their differences. Pierre has been more understanding now and heard Y/N's point out.

They got back together but it felt like there is a huge crack that took a heavy blow with their relationship.

IV.

Y/N had a terrible day at work with her manuscript being asked to be revised by her publisher. All she needs was a good rest and possibly some cuddles with Pierre. She prays as she twist the doorknob that Pierre was not in his one of his moods.

"Mon amour"Pierre called out "I was waiting for you"

Pierre can cook but it doesn't mean that he does it often. It was a good surprise for Y/N to see the dinner table set with all of her favorite dishes and an array of fresh flowers in a bouquet. She eyes the man warily as she takes a seat

"I didn't miss any important dates, didn't I?" Y/N asked.

"Is it bad that I wanted to do something special for you?"

In other days, she would want to argue about it but for today she didn't want to do any of that. She had no energy to question Pierre's weird behavior and she just wants to enjoy the dinner with him.

It was a lovely dinner but Y/N knows that Pierre was hiding something from her. As she was putting away the plates, she knew that she had to get an answer or she may fall asleep overthinking things.

"What is going on P, I'm actually scared you did something stupid that's why you are buttering me up so much"

Pierre lets out a heavy sigh, they knew each other too well that they can't really keep a secret with each other.

"My PR talked to me today and they wanted to announce a relationship to help my whole image"Pierre confesses.

Articles are very easy to miss but as a writer, Y/N knows how a different usage of an article changes the meaning of the sentence. Pierre used "a" rather than "the" which means he is not referring to their relationship.

"Who is it?"Y/N wondered

"She's a model, her name is Caterina" Pierre explained.

There was a heavy silence in the room as Y/N dried out the dishes. She knew that this was all because she was not very marketable due to her timid personality. She was not even famous for her books so that's another reason. Bottom line, they can't announce her because she seems very different from Pierre and she is not the WAG material.

"How long?"

Y/N was used to this kind of treatment. She felt like she accepted this as long as she can get to keep Pierre at the end of this whole thing. People would think she is crazy but love makes people do crazy things.

"Just 6 months and its over"Pierre answered.

It was also very difficult for Pierre's end. He have tried to lobby that he wanted to announce his relationship with Y/N but he is held by a contract. If he decides to deviate then he might lose his seat.

He knows how difficult it was to ask her for this but he had no choice.

"I'll get packing then and I'll move out in the next few days"Y/N mumbles.

Pierre stopped her for leaving and held her tightly. She instantly melts in his hold and she easily reminds herself why she puts up with all of this.

"I love you, don't you forget that"

The world moved with Caterina being announced as Pierre's girlfriend. However, they didn't know that after 6 months then Pierre is back to Y/N's arms. It was always Y/N and Pierre even if the world can't see it.

V.

It started with a normal dinner reservation.

Y/N has been promised by Pierre that he will take her out for dinner. They both understand that the past few weeks has been tiring for the two of them with the stress of racing, writing, and personal issues. The dinner is a nice way to reconnect with each other.

However, here she was already an hour waiting for Pierre to show up.

The hour goes from two to three and by the fourth hour, she decided that she will just go home. She have felt upset with Pierre before but this was a different kind of upset. It's not something to be fixed by flowers, vacations, or any of those stupid letters he does.

She reaches their shared apartment and started packing her stuffs. Her mind was already made up and this time it was going to last. The relationship was doomed to failure anyways.

And just before she finished packing, Pierre stumbles in.

"Y/N, do you have a schedule tonight?"Pierre asked.

He was met with silence as the writer ignores him.

"Oh c'mon what did I do wrong this time?"Pierre complains "Sit and talk with me Y/N"

Pierre could only stop Y/N by bringing all her packed clothes out of her suitcase. Something that heavily irritated Y/N, which caused her to finally speak.

"Can you just let me pack in peace"Y/N begged.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong"Pierre stops "Do you have a flight somewhere? Maybe I could drive you"

"You don't have to drive me Pierre"

"Then what's going on, I arrive here and you are fuming there-"

"You made me fucking wait four hours"Y/N snapped.

Pierre racked his brains for anything that he missed and he suddenly remembered how he reserved dinner with her. He felt like all the color drained on his face.

"Don't do this, I'll make it up to you Y/N" there was a desperation in Pierre's voice.

"I can't, we can't keep doing this P"Y/N admits it "We keep on breaking up and then making up then we act like this is a healthy relationship. We can't do this"

Strong arms wrapped around Y/N's waist and she could feel the wetness on her shoulders as Pierre buried his face there. It was proving more and more difficult for Y/N to leave him.

"I have to do this P, for you and for me"she remains firm.

"Tell me you don't love me"Pierre refuses to let go.

And Y/N cannot admit that because she knows she will always love Pierre. But she was scared that in loving Pierre so much then she may not have any love left for herself. She doesn't know what to do if she loses Pierre so its best if she will be the one to let go of him first.

"I'm sorry Pierre"

With a heavy heart, she removes the him away from her. She picks up her bags and closes the door. She left without taking a look back at the man she has loved from childhood till now because she knows that the moment she sees him then all form of control she has will evaporate.

And everything was two years ago. Here is Y/N with her third best-selling novel book signing tour. Sometimes she likes to think that she lost Pierre to be able to write the books that made her extremely famous. Most of the times, she wishes it never happened because she would rather have Pierre than these best selling novels.

It was her first time in Europe for work. She was often here to watch and support Pierre from the sideline. She never thought that she will be back in Europe so loved and so adored.

But it seems like destiny has a way of messing things up.

"Hi! What's your name?"she greets the woman in front of her.

Even though it has been a long day, she managed to master the art of keeping a perfect smile. She understands how the fans have been waiting in line for so long and she has to give them the best experience as she signs their book.

"My name is Kika, I'm a huge fan of yours" the woman introduced.

Y/N looked up to take a look at her. Kika had a dazzling smile and has this certain aura that exudes her charmingness. Y/N felt that she should be the one asking for Kika's signature because she looks like a stunning goddess.

"I really love the way you write things and I used to read it with my boyfriend when he is not racing"Kika narrates.

Racing, its been a while since Y/N heard that. She completely cuts off that certain topic ever since she left Pierre.

"Oh that sounds like a fantastic way to bond as a couple"Y/N agrees

"Yeah and actually my boyfriend told me that he knows you. I was actually wondering if he is joking but I figured that maybe he is"

There was this sinking feeling in her heart but Y/N would like to think that she made some friends in the F1 grid so this may be their girlfriend. Or maybe her boyfriend is bluffing.

"He races? In what kind of race"Y/N asked,she was careful.

"Oh he does Formula 1, his name is-"

"Kika mon amour"

Y/N didn't have to hear the voice twice to know who that voice belongs to. She knows that voice very well and she couldn't believe her rotten luck.

"Pierre, we were just talking about you"Kika embraces Pierre.

Pierre was shifting nervously and Y/N suddenly realized that Kika doesn't know anything about the shared history between the two of them.

"Oh so you are Pierre's new girl" Y/N knew how to act "I'm so pleased to meet you and yes I know Pierre from childhood"

"See mon amour, I was not lying"Pierre teased.

"So you do know her, we should definitely set up a lunch or dinner together"Kika exclaimed "I can't believe that my favorite author is your childhood friend"

She has that bright and genuine smile on her face. It was that certain genuineness that Y/N makes her heart crack. Why did she have to be so sweet and kind, its so difficult to fault her of anything.

"Y/N is one of the best authors, I know" Pierre proudly states "She has a way of tugging hearts"

"Indeed she has, I remember that when I first started reading one of your series I was so hooked and I wanted to pattern my dream partner to how you write the character of.."Kika babbles.

And everything felt like fading in the background. But Y/N didn't miss how Pierre was looking at Kika so lovingly and so endearing while Kika was rambling excitedly. The heart that was once healed was getting torn up once more because of what's happening in front of her.

[lunaetiicsaystuff]

DAYLIGHT

part 1 , part 2

lando norris x fem!oc

( yes, its gonna be a series and yes, i guess this is my comeback on tumblr)

summary: Adaezela Samu and Lando Norris have called each other their best friends for as long as they can both remember, until one of them decides to deal with the raising tension between them.

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55 , mclaren , georgerussell63 , and 735,372 others...

crazy girl broke in and stole food from f1 driver Lando Norris, please send help

adaezelasamu at least shes not martha level of crazy, you should be grateful

⤷landonorris im very much happy with this crazy girl

alex_albon weird, it also happened to me but the crazy girl was different 🤔

⤷landonorris then it must be a common thing, better lock the doors guys

⤷lilymhe ahahaha you are so funny

⤷adaezelasamu come here wifey, I'll defend us both 👩🏾‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏻

⤷lilymhe my hero 💗💖💘💓💕💖💓

lilymhe wow send her my address i want her to break in my house too

⤷adaezelasamu OMW

⤷landonorris lily stop stealing MY best friend 😐😐

user1 its the way alex was talking about lily, his gf, and lando just went "it happens to all of us ig 🙂" as if adaezela was his gf lmaoo

user2 SHE LOOKS SO GOOD HOW

user3 she has such pretty smile omg 🥹

carlossainz55 what did you cook ada

⤷adaezelasamu some appetizers and then a pasta cacio and pepe, of course everything was great as usual

⤷carlossainz55 you will have to prepare us something one day

⤷landonorris nope she only cooks for me and herself actually 😁😁

⤷adaezelasamu not true, stop lying 😁😁😁

⤷landonorris you just broke my heart 😁😁😁😁

⤷adaezelasamu i dont care 😁😁😁😁😁

⤷carlossainz55 you two are so dumb i swear

georgerussell63 carmen says hi!

⤷adaezelasamu tell her i say that I miss her!!!! 💞💞💞💞💞💞

⤷landonorris why are you all so affectionate with my ady 😕😕

⤷georgerussell63 jealous much?

⤷landonorris yes she was my best friend first

⤷adaezelasamu lando, there is plenty of me to share between carmen, lily and you

⤷landonorris no comment

user4 shes very pretty, how long have then been together?

⤷user5 never, they are TECHNICALLY childhood best friends but everyone can see they basically in love with each others

⤷user4 oh

user6 the way lando is jealous of how much attention the others are giving to her lmfao 😭😭

⤷user7 its the way he's always saying MY best friend, MY ady , man is whipped

user8 lando could you please win the next grand prix? thank you 🧡🧡🧡🧡

user9 i missed seeing adaezela

more...

adaezelasamu

liked by landonorris , lnfour, charles_leclerc, lilymhe and 219,678 others...

somebody tell this man to let me go home PLEASE

landonorris NOOOO

landonorris LET ME BOTHER YOU FOREVERRRR

user1 oh to be adaezela, complaining about lando norris wanting to be with you 24/7

⤷user2 FR like pass him to me if you dont want him 😭😭

user3 mama y papa

landonorris she doesn't want to leave anymore 🤪🤪

⤷adaezelasamu you literally gaslighted me because you were sCaReD or wtv

⤷landonorris YOU DONT KNOW WHAT SHE COULD DO

⤷adaezelasamu POLICE OFFICERS ARE LITERALLY OUTSIDE OF MY HOUSE TO PREVENT HER FROM DOING WEIRD SHIT??

⤷landonorris yeah but what if 😕

⤷adaezelasamu there you go, making me feel bad again

⤷landonorris 😕😕😕😕😕😕😕

⤷adaezelasamu FINE ill sleep here

⤷user4 honestly what the fuck is fuck is happening?? like police officers outside of Adaezela'a house? lando being scared for her??

lilymhe babe call me plsss🙂

⤷adaezelasamu yes ma'am 🫡

user5 what kind of life are these two living like wtf 😭😭

carlossainz55 what is happening

⤷landonorris ill call you carlos dw

⤷user6 so not even lily or carlos knows what's going on??

charles_leclerc how is he even sleeping there

⤷landonorris talent

⤷adaezelasamu hes just weird charles dont ask questions

⤷user7 PLSSSS ADAEZELA 😭😭

user8 couple goals honestly

⤷user9 exactly, i want what these bitches have 😭

user10 what is happening??? I hope both of them are ok cause wtf

⤷adaezelasamu guys dont worry, both me and lando are fine! we just had an encounter with a crazy fan

[banditthewriter]

Compatible - Billy Russo - 3

Here we have the final part to my short series. I was really happy to get back into writing and everyone’s responses have been great. I hope you all continue to enjoy!

Part 1 X Part 2 

Warning: Mentions of sexual relations with multiple characters over the months. Not described.

*gif is mine*

Enjoy!

Month Seven

—

Billy. It was Billy. You were speechless as you stared at him from over the top of the car. Your drivers were carrying your bags up to the house, but neither of you had moved an inch just yet. As the drivers came back and began their usual spiel, you couldn’t help but interrupt.

“Uh, I don’t mean to be a pain, but are you sure we are both at the right house?”

The driver that had brought Billy looked almost insulted. He pointed at the door.

“Go check the touch pad, but we don’t make mistakes.”

You nodded a little absently and then you shook your head and pulled yourself from the weird trance you’d been in since the moment you saw Billy. Both of you headed up to the door, casting looks at each other as if neither of you could believe what you were seeing.

Probably because you couldn’t.

You both placed your pads against the ports to let it sync. You couldn’t help but hold your breath as you waited for it to flash red or something, to say this was a mistake. Instead it showed both of your names and told you welcome.

The drivers were gone before the door was even open. You let out a laugh as you looked up at Billy, surprise in his eyes to match yours. He laughed as well then reached out for the door.

Two steps into the house was all you got. You were abruptly spun around and before you could even think of something to say, some greeting for the man that had been on your mind for the last five months, Billy leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss. Your hands clutched at his shoulders and held on tight, your mouth moving against his easily. 

This. This is what you’d missed that first month. You went to sleep almost nose to nose with the man and often woke up curled up in him, but you missed the chance to kiss him. To know the way he tastes, the way he moans, the way he holds you close as you kiss.

God, how could you have gone an entire month without kissing him?

The two of you walked while still kissing all the way across the house and into the bedroom that had once been yours when the two of you lived together before. In there Billy didn’t even pull away as he started to undo the buttons on his shirt. You gasped into his mouth as you realized where this was going and you kicked off your shoes. When both of you were naked, you fell onto the bed together. He moved so that he was on top of you and leaned in for another kiss, his mouth hot on yours. 

“Billy,” you gasped as you looked up at him. He stared down at you, his eyes hooded from lust and desire. 

Then you reached out for the bedside table. In all of the houses, you’d found the same thing in the top drawer of the nightstand. You’d used them a few times, but not when you’d been with Billy. The two of you had never even talked about taking that step, much less…

It didn’t matter. Everything that came before this moment didn’t matter right then. The only thing that mattered was the weight of Billy pressing down against you, his lips on yours, and the way his hand tightened around yours as you handed him one of the condoms. 

—

Billy came back to the room with a glass of water. He was only in his briefs which you weren’t about to complain about. You had only draped the sheet over your body when he’d told you he’d be right back with a kiss to your shoulder. 

After he handed you the glass, he bent down to sort the pile of clothes that you both had left in your rush to get into bed. He fished something out from both sides before he came over to the bed again. He held out his hand and you realized he was handing you your pad. 

“Wanna see?”

You almost asked what he meant, but something in his eyes told you. The percentage. You sat up, the sheet tucked under your armpits to keep your chest covered, and accepted your pad from him. As you stared down at the device, you wondered if you actually wanted to see.

The two of you had ended at 89%, but who was to say that it would still be that way? Things changed constantly, didn’t they? That’s why you were constantly answering questions about your month and experience and feelings about your matches. It was possible the percentage was below 89%, maybe even lower than it had started the first time.

Could you handle that?

With a deep breath, you nodded and unlocked your pad. Both of you navigated to the app and after a moment, pressed at the same time. The slot machine spun for what felt like a ridiculously long time before it stopped.

92%. Your compatibility had actually gone up in six months. You looked up, shocked, and Billy was already grinning at you.

“Makes sense to me,” he said with an even wider grin as he took your pad and placed both of them on the nightstand. “Now, for more important business…”

You could only laugh as he tugged away your sheet only to replace it with his body once more.

—

“Wait, you matched with Billy again?!”

You shushed her and then laughed as she immediately flushed. Billy wasn’t actually in the house at the moment, had gone to the store to get stuff for dinner, but she hadn’t known that when she decided to go supersonic in her astonishment. 

“Yes, I did, which is just…blowing my mind. I didn’t even know that was possible. But apparently it is and…well, we had a pretty good reunion.”

Karen’s nose scrunched up for a second and then she raised an eyebrow. 

“You aren’t going to just say that and not tell me details.”

You shook your head and leaned back against the window. You’d gone to the window seat to call Karen out of habit. She’d asked how your first few days with your new match had been and you’d told her they were good, great even, before you broke the news.

Thankfully her screech hadn’t shattered the window behind you.

“Have I told you any details about any of my other matches when it comes to that?”

She laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

“No, but this isn’t just any other match, is it? It’s Billy. It’s the one you literally haven’t been able to stop thinking about since the first month. Just tell me that you’re as happy in the bed as you are out of it?”

You laughed and ducked your head for a second. When you looked back up at the phone, you didn’t even have to answer before she gave you that smug look that you both loved and hated her for.

“And hey, in some of those forums I’ve been in, I have seen people talk about matching with people more than once. I guess it’s not too uncommon?”

That made you give Karen a discerning look.

“You are spending an awful lot of time on those forums. Are you thinking of applying? Or is there something else you want to tell me?”

A little flush went over Karen’s cheeks. You were about to call her a hypocrite for applying for the program when she’d given you nothing but hell, but her next words caught you off guard.

“I might have met someone on there? I mean, I have no idea where he is or anything, just that he has a friend that is in one of the neighborhoods. He’s a really, really great guy and we talk all the time. It started with both of us being worried about our friends and just kinda…yea.”

To say that you were floored would be putting it mildly. You actually laughed as she explained the situation, but not cruelly or disdainfully. 

“Trust you to find your perfect match while I’m the one in a dating app simulation.”

That made Karen laugh. Then she shook her head.

“Enough about me. Tell me honestly, how are you feeling about matching with him again?”

You thought about how it felt when you first saw Billy in the driveway, the relief you felt when your pads actually synced and proved it wasn’t a mistake. The relief that you got a second chance with him. The way that it seemed to alleviate some of the guilt you’d felt over thinking about him when you were with other matches. The way his kiss made you feel, his touch. The fact that despite the fact that his clothes were in the other room, he hadn’t slept in it once.

“Honestly? I’m happy.”

It was so simple, but it was the truest response you could come up with. 

Karen smiled at your words.

“Then that’s all that matters.”

—

“Why do you think that we matched again?”

Billy looked up from where he was working on something on his laptop. He seemed to ponder your question before he put his laptop down. He walked over to where you were sitting with your own laptop. He picked yours up and put it to the side and then moved to sit beside you. 

As easily as ever, his hand had found yours and immediately your fingers laced together. He tightened his grip on your hand for a moment to make you look up at him.

“I think it was so that we could both have a do over. Maybe it wouldn’t have happened if we wouldn’t have run into each other on the bridge, maybe it still would have, but I think that that’s what it comes down to. I wanted a chance to make up for what I did, to show you how much our time together had meant to me. I told you, you’re all I think about all the time and you said you felt the same.”

You nodded to encourage him to continue because it seemed like this was building to something.

“You said that you wanted to have an open mind and open heart with this whole match thing and I said I should try to as well. Because I don’t think we did that first month, either of us. As much as we got along and connected, I don’t think either of us were really sure what all of this could mean. It was new, it was our first month. I’ve gone to war and walked into gunfire without blinking but emotions and romance? That’s a different kind of scary for me. So I think this is a do over for us both. To give us a chance to live our month the way we should have the first time.”

Karen’s question of how you were feeling about rematching with Billy and your own thoughts came back. Hadn’t you thought about how glad you were to be having a second chance with him? Getting rid of the guilt you’d felt every time you thought about him instead of your other matches? 

You reached up and traced your finger over his cheek and across his bottom lip. 

“It’s getting late,” you said in a conspiratorial voice as you started to grin. “Almost bedtime?”

Billy’s grin made your own grin grow. He bit down on the tip of your finger that had been touching his lip. Then he leaned in and gave you a kiss.

“C’mon, better get you to bed. I know you get cranky if you don’t get enough time in bed.”

You laughed as he pulled you up and started to pull you towards the bedroom you shared. He slapped your ass as you crossed into the room, earning another laugh from you.

You weren’t sure you’d ever get enough of him.

—

The message on the pad said that Billy was out for a run. You responded that you were running to the storm to get stuff for dinner. You took the golf cart although you didn’t expect to have that many bags. Then you went into the store with a mental checklist of all the things you needed for dinner and also just for the house.

With a basket full of food and snacks and drinks, you went through the front aisles looking for the deodorant. You were running low and Billy had mentioned he was too. You knew what kind he liked so you grabbed one of each. As you turned down the next aisle, just browsing in case something came to you, you saw an aisle full of different condoms and lubes. 

Huh. The box you’d been given at the start of the month was almost empty and it was only a little over a week in. You’d never gone through an entire box with the matches you’d slept with before so you hadn’t even thought about buying condoms.

Well. Might as well.

You looked through the different kinds and grabbed two boxes. Then you grabbed a tube of flavored lube and one regular. Then, on second thought, you grabbed another box of condoms. Feeling ridiculous you shifted things around until they were mostly covered by your other purchases.

As you walked towards the front where you would bag your own groceries since no one paid anything here, you almost walked right into someone else. As both of you started to apologize, you stepped back when you realized you knew her voice.

“Wanda?”

She blinked up as she grabbed the pack of razors she had dropped. Then she said your name with a wide smile before she wrapped her arms around you.

“Oh my gosh, it’s so good to see you! How have you been?”

You laughed and then gestured for her to go before you in the line since she had fewer things. She quickly grabbed a bag for her few items and then you put your basket down to unload.

“I’ve been good. How are you?”

She smiled, a bit of a blush in her cheeks.

“I’m good. Really good. It’s really good to see you though.”

Apparently she really liked her current match. Not that you could blame her considering how you felt about your own. 

Of course it was around then that you remembered exactly what was in your basket. You had just uncovered the condoms and lube when the thought came to you. You felt your cheeks start to burn with embarrassment. She looked down and saw them and then let out a laugh.

“Oh, someone is enjoying themselves!”

Even though you were embarrassed, you had to admit that it wasn’t bad. You have always been able to talk to Wanda about anything.

Which made you think…

“You’ve done this whole thing before, right? Can I ask you a question?”

At the serious turn in your voice, Wanda nodded seriously. She looked down at your stuff and then towards the doors that were just a few feet away.

“Let’s get your stuff bagged and then we can go next door for coffee.”

She helped you bag your items and put the basket down. One of the few employees in the store waved at you both as you left. In the coffeeshop you both ordered a drink and then went to sit outside for it to be brought to you.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

You nodded as you toyed with your napkin. The barista came out with your drinks and Wanda’s scone before she went back inside. Then it was just you and Wanda again. With a careful look around to make sure no one was nearby, you turned to Wanda once more.

“How often do people match with someone they’ve already matched with?”

She cocked her head to the side as if thinking about your question. Then she offered a bit of a shrug.

“I can’t really give you a percentage or something, but I can tell you it’s happened plenty of times. It happened to me the first time I did this. I know a few other people that it’s happened to.”

You folded and unfolded your napkin a few times between sips of your drink. She didn’t press you for more, just waited until you were ready to speak again.

“Do you…do you have a theory? On why people will rematch?”

Wanda stirred her coffee a few times and then sucked the coffee off the stirrer.

“Well the whole thing is compatibility, right? So sometimes you reach a certain compatibility with a person and that’s that, but sometimes…well, we’re always growing as people. Our compatibility with one person might make us more or less compatible with someone else. So maybe we rematch down the line because something in the time between, our compatibility has shifted to make us more compatible.”

She took a drink of her coffee and looked off into the street.

“The numbers are always changing. When we start, we get our first match, but the rest of the year isn’t planned out. It’s not like they have a numbered list and you go down it, that’s that. The algorithm runs up to the last day of the month and then it pairs you from that. So whether it’s something in that most recent month or just a culmination of things, the algorithm will reconnect you with someone sometimes.”

You thought about that morning at the footbridge, Billy’s warmth behind you as you stared over the water. Thought about his hand in yours, the way the two of you almost kissed. Thought about how you’d run an extra lap just to keep from going back to the house with Billy on your mind.

“I’m really glad I ran into you.”

She turned back to look at you and smiled, her red hair blowing in the wind. She reached into her purse and pulled out her personal cell phone. With a wink, she held it out to you.

“Put your number in there. We’ll get together once this is all done. I already know that I want to keep in touch with you.”

It wasn’t romantic or sexual, even though you’d slept together. You liked Wanda, enjoyed her company. You had a feeling she’d make a great friend, even if you thought her and Karen together would make you pull your hair out. With a grin you typed out your number and sent yourself a text so you’d have her number as well.

With a hug and a promise to keep in touch, you turned and put your bags in the cart to drive home. It wasn’t a long drive, but it did make you think about what it would be like to go back to reality after this year. Wanda’s number in your phone made you realize that you could keep in touch with people outside of the neighborhood if you wanted.

Being friends with Wanda probably meant being around Pietro which you didn’t mind. He was nice enough. You weren’t sure you’d want to stay friends with Stephen and Scott, while really nice, was kind of bland when it came to things in common. Bucky you’d like to stay in touch with too, but you weren’t sure if that would give the wrong impression.

You nearly slammed your foot on the brake as you thought about that. In your mind, you were imagining that your final match would be Billy, that the two of you would have a connection outside of the neighborhood by default. It was just as possible that you’d match with Bucky, or someone you’d yet to match with, as it was that you’d match with Billy.

Could you imagine trying to be friends with Billy if you matched with someone else? If he did?

Deep down you had to admit you didn’t think you were that evolved.

—

“I’m here, it’s okay.”

You opened your eyes, unsure why the soothing voice was speaking to you. Just as you were about to ask Billy what was wrong, because he looked so concerned, a crack of thunder made you jump and shudder further into his hold.

Oh. That’s what was wrong.

“Shit, didn’t even realize,” you mumbled as you buried your face in Billy’s chest. “Sorry if I woke up.”

“Technically the storm woke me. Then I happened to see that you were trying to cave in on yourself so I pulled you closer to me. You okay?”

Even though lightning was making the room look like a rave and the thunder was shaking your very bones, you still found it in you to smile as you cuddled closer to Billy.

“I am now.”

—

“I looked for you at every block party,” Billy said quietly as he handed you a drink, music drowning out his words from anyone else being able to hear them.

Anyone but you. You looked up at him in confusion and then you realized what he was saying. You looked down and shook your head a bit before you spoke to him quietly.

“Before the one that you saw me at, I’d skipped the other ones. Because, well. I did go to the one the second month, right after…and you weren’t there. I overheard someone say that she’d missed the first one because she was…with her match. So I wanted to skip them because I didn’t want to know if you were there or not. I didn’t want to think about why you might not be there.”

He looked down at you for a long time without speaking and you were starting to get worried you’d said the wrong thing when he began to tug you away. Like before the two of you ended up near a fence. Still close enough to the party to hear the music, but with more privacy.

“I was sick the night of the second block party. My match went without me. And over the next months, I looked for you because I wanted to apologize. It occurred to me why you might be missing it too.”

You felt a hot flush of embarrassment as you thought about why you did miss the block party when you were with other matches. Although it wasn’t like you thought Billy had been a monk while he was with his matches.You didn’t hold it against him any more than you expected him to hold it against you. You were both consenting adults and this situation was a strange one.

That didn’t stop you from feeling a little jealous.

His hand came to your neck and tugged your forward to kiss you. The kiss was a little dirty and made your toes curl in your shoes.

“It doesn’t matter what happened before. Let’s just enjoy what we have now, right?”

Because it would end too. This was the seventh month which meant five more months. Five more people that you might sleep with, five more that he might sleep with. He was right, you should both just enjoy what you had while you had it.

That in mind…

“Let’s go home,” you said softly, your lips against his as you spoke. 

You felt more than saw him smile before he kissed you hard. 

—

You were stretched out on the couch with a movie playing, only half focusing on the images on the screen. Billy was in the kitchen cleaning up the dinner you made. That was something the two of you did often, switch off tasks or did you together. 

A hand came down on your ankle which made you jump a bit. When you looked up, Billy was grinning at you. 

"Follow me."

You were up and stretching before you thought about it. Then you laughed as you walked around the couch to where Billy was holding out his hand for you. With your hand in his, he led you away from the couch and out of the living room. 

He led you to the larger bathroom that had a jacuzzi tub. You used the jacuzzi a lot in the last few months, rested and relaxed in there often enough. But this time it was different. 

There were a few candles spread our around the room, some on the edge of the tub. Flowers were in a vase on the little table next to the tub, along with a bottle of wine and two glasses. 

Billy leaned in and kisses your neck, his hands on your hips. 

"Join me?"

Your smile was answer enough. 

—

It was midnight. You looked at the clock just in case you were wrong, but you weren’t. It was the end of the month and in less than twelve hours, you and Billy would part ways. You wanted to close your eyes and sleep, but you didn’t want to miss this time with him.

“I can’t sleep either,” you heard from beside you, startling you.

Billy sat up and leaned back against the headboard. You copied him, tugging your t-shirt down a bit as you did. It was all you wore except for a pair of underwear, both pulled on after you and Billy had sex after dinner before the two of you had tried to go to sleep.

Apparently both of you had failed at that.

“Should we…”

You didn’t finish the question, just gestured at the pad that acted as a clock beside you. Billy looked over at his own pad but he didn’t reach out for it. Instead he moved so that he could pull you down to lie back down under the covers with him. He shook his head and leaned in for a kiss.

“It doesn’t matter what percentage is on that screen. I have no idea how anyone could top it no matter what it is. All I know is…this? This is good enough for me.”

Those words felt like so much more than just words. You tugged him down to you and kissed him, chasing the sentiment on his lips with your own. It only took you a few seconds to tug your t-shirt off and then your panties were gone and so were his briefs. The two of you could spend the rest of the night like this.

You just hoped that Billy stuck around to say goodbye in the morning.

—

The drivers were in the driveway, but you and Billy didn’t care. He leaned in to give you a kiss goodbye but it had turned into both of you holding onto each other and kissing like there was no tomorrow.

Because there wasn’t. You doubted anyone had matched three times with the same person. 

When he finally pulled away, you wanted to look away and not meet his eyes, but he lifted your chin. His dark gaze met yours and you found yourself melting a bit in his hold.

“This doesn’t have to be goodbye, you know. No matter who our final matches are, it doesn’t mean we have to actually have a happily ever after with them. We can make our own choices once we’re out of this neighborhood.”

You could. That was definitely a possibility. 

There was also the possibility that one of you could actually fall for someone else, wasn’t there?

You leaned in and gave him another kiss, soft and sweet. Then you grabbed the only bag not already in the car and headed to the door.

“I’ll see you around Billy Russo.”

He smiled and repeated it back to you, your name soft in his mouth.

You had a feeling this would not be the last time you saw Billy for this year.

—

Month Eight 

—

Carol Danvers was a force of nature. Not in a bad way at least. She was kind and funny and smart as a whip, but she was also stubborn and independent and honestly didn’t seem like she wanted to find a match too badly. At the block party she talked to people easily enough, but it seemed like it was more because she had to rather than she wanted to.

The two of you were at 78% when the month started and by the end, you weren’t surprised that the match was only 79%. 

Still you thanked her for a nice month and gave her a hug. As you got in the backseat of your car to go to your next house, you wondered if you would connect with anyone for the rest of the year.

—

Month Nine 

—

Your next match was a man named Sam Wilson. He was incredibly attractive and funny, smart but not in an in your face kind of way. The starting percentage was 81% and it was a good starting point apparently. He was pretty low key and the two of you often stayed in together rather than go out. It meant skipping the block party, but you didn’t mind. 

When you fell into bed with Sam, neither of you made a big deal about it. It was good, very good, but it also only happened a few times over the month that you were together. 

One thing that the two of you did do a lot was talk. He talked about home, his sister and nephews and how he grew up. You talked about your home, your parents, and your work. Then at some point the topic of best friends came up and after you talked about Karen for a while, he told you about his best friend.

Who was in the neighborhood. And had lost his arm in the war. And was named Bucky.

How small was New York exactly?

—

“So wait, you’ve slept with him and his best friend? Jesus, this is better than I expected. Did you sleep with both of the Maximoffs?”

“Shut up,” you said as you picked up the pace of your walk, as if somehow the soundwaves of her voice would carry out of your Bluetooth headset. “We’re not talking about this. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, I know. Another secret for the pile,” she mumbled distractedly.

You almost faltered in your jog. Karen’s voice sounded strange to you as she said that. While you knew she was currently at work, you also knew there were no secrets when it came to work. If she was hiding something, it was personal.

“Is everything okay?”

Your gentle prodding seemed to get Karen’s attention back on you and the conversation.

“Yeah, it’s fine. So are you going to tell Sam about Buc–”

“Hey, stop. Is something going on? Karen, you can talk to me about anything.”

You heard her sigh over your headset. The sound made you want to hug her and not for the first time, you hated that you were the reason there was a literal distance between the two of you.

“Everything is okay. I just miss my best friend but she’s off trying to find her soulmate and meeting a bunch of people and apparently sleeping with them but not telling me the dirty deets.”

That shocked a laugh out of you. Even though you were pretty sure that wasn’t the problem, you also knew that Karen was a forthcoming person. If she wasn’t telling you something, it was for a reason.

You had your secrets. She could have hers.

“How’s that piece about police brutality going? I know you said some of your contacts were rethinking going on record.”

That sent Karen off on a new topic because of course it did. You listened to her vent and bounced ideas back and forth for a while before you ended the call. 

Even if she was hiding the truth, you had to admit that you missed your best friend too.

—

The end percentage was 88%. You and Sam exchanged phone numbers and then hugged at the door before you went to your separate cars. You tapped your fingers on your knee as you stared at the percentage on your pad.

It was a good percentage growth, about average you thought. But as you looked at it, you couldn’t help but wonder what your final number with Billy would have been.

—

Month Ten 

—

The next match was a woman named Jessica Jones. She was a bit grumpy and surly, but the two of you actually got along pretty well. The two of you didn’t have much in common, which explained the starting percentage of 68%. 

By the end of the month, while no romantic feelings popped up between the two of you, you had to admit that you’d become pretty good friends. You even exchanged information so you could reach back out once back in reality. 

It wasn’t a surprise that the percentage was only at 71% by the end, but it was okay. You got another friend out of the deal so you were happy about it.

Although something told you that Karen plus Wanda plus Jessica would end badly. 

—

Month Eleven

—

Clint Barton was…something. He was like Jessica Jones without the alcohol. And with more face palming. 

Yet somehow your 73% turned into an 82% by the end of the month. That one came out of nowhere.

He was another one you exchanged information with so that you could keep in touch. Who knows if you might need an ex-circus member in your life. Maybe the next time you lock yourself out of your apartment, he can climb the fire escape for you.

—

Month Twelve 

—

The man that got out of the car beside yours was another attractive person. That was one thing you had to say about all of your matches. Even if you weren’t attracted to their personality, aesthetically they were all attractive. 

You noticed that he wore sunglasses a moment before he extended a stick before him. Once those two pieces of information clicked, you made your way over to him and extended your arm to him. 

“Hi,” you greeted warmly, giving him your name. 

He accepted your arm with a smile that took you aback. He was a seriously attractive man.

“Matt Murdock,” he replied as he gave your arm a squeeze. “Ladies first.”

You laughed at his joke and helped him up to the porch. Then both of you placed your pads to the screen, him by touching it first and then touching it to it. After a moment the screen showed your names and actually read them out, obviously something that was added because of Matt’s blindness. 

Once inside, the drivers did their same spiel about the cart before they left. You shut the door behind them and then turned to Matt. 

“Do you want to sit down so we can get to know each other or do you want to get settled in first?”

He folded up his cane and then gestured towards the couch.

“One good thing about these houses all being exactly the same is that I’m pretty comfortable walking around without stubbing my toe. The first few nights were pretty rough. Let’s sit and talk first.”

You followed him and sat down beside him, your knees brushing as the two of you turned towards each other. Then before you could start, he pulled his pad out. Surprised that you hadn’t done that too, you quickly pulled yours out.

A few moments later, after the slot machine stopped spinning, you saw the percentage at the same time that Matt’s read it out.

“90%.”

“Wow,” Matt breathed as he locked the device and replaced it in his pocket. “Highest I’ve had to start with. Well, I guess that’s a good thing, right?”

You smiled as you put your own pad back in your pocket.

“It is. So…who's first?”

—

“Behind you,” Matt said as he crossed around your space to the fridge.

You jerked forward a bit just in case and then turned around to face him. Matt was methodically pulling out the orange juice to pour into glasses. It was something you’d seen him do three mornings in a row now and while you knew that blind people had their own accommodations and things that they did so that they could be self-sufficient, you had noticed that Matt seemed…eerily able to know where things were.

“How do you do that? Know exactly where I am in the room when I’m not talking to you?”

Matt smiled as he capped the orange juice and returned it to the fridge.

“Think I’m faking my blindness?” At your laugh, Matt laughed as well. “The truth is that my other senses got really heightened after my accident. I could hear you mixing the batter and I knew where in the room you were.”

“That’s so…cool.”

Matt laughed and adjusted his sunglasses, a move you took to be self conscious. Instead of making it worse, you just crossed over to the stove.

“I’m sure you can tell by the sound of me turning on the stove and everything, but I’m going to be making the pancakes now. How many do you want?”

Matt’s answering laugh was enough to tell you that you were treating him exactly how you should be.

—

“You are smiling a lot,” Karen said as she peered at her phone. “Like, you’ve seemed happy with a few matches, but besides…one in particular, this is the most I’ve seen you smile.”

You knew who she meant but you weren’t going to bring that up. Instead you just shrugged and leaned back against the window.

“Matt’s great, honestly. We have so much fun and get along really well. He’s wonderful.”

Karen’s smile turned into a smirk.

“Mhm. And how’s the sex?”

You snorted and then rolled your eyes at your best friend.

“I’m not answering that,” you said as you shook your head at her antics. That just made her smirk more.

“That good, huh? I knew it. That 'heightened senses' bit must come in handy, huh? Get it?”

That made you laugh, but you weren’t exactly calling her bluff. It was good with Matt. He really, really knew what he was doing in bed.

“Let’s talk about your sex life, huh? You dating anyone recently?”

Karen’s face turned bright red and she looked away from the camera. You were about to take it back because obviously she was uncomfortable, when she turned back and sighed.

“Remember how I told you that I started to talk to a guy on the forum about our best friends being in the neighborhood? Well, it turns out that his friend is also in the New York neighborhood. I felt kind of…uncomfortable going out with him after I learned that. So…we haven’t talked much.”

You pulled your legs up and crossed them, something you could imagine doing if you’d been sitting on the bed with Karen right then instead of at the window seat.

“So his friend is here. That’s okay Karen, it’s not like it’s a big deal. There’s a lot of people here. You still deserve happiness and it kinda seemed like you really liked this guy. If that’s the case, you should keep talking to him.”

Karen sighed and looked down again. You wished you could reach through the phone and grab her, shake some sense into her. She was incredibly stubborn though.

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

You knew she was thinking about it though and that was enough for you. For now at least. You’d let her just think about it for now because in a few weeks, you’d be back home and could make good on your wish to shake some sense into her.

“By the way, who is his friend? Maybe I know him.”

Karen looked back at her phone and smirked, a little bit of her previous spunk back in her.

“Ask me when you get home and I’ll tell you.”

—

Music played from the block party which, for the first time, was right outside of your house. You and Matt didn’t have far to go but it also meant that you couldn’t really skip it. At least it meant you could make a strategic retreat once you were too tired of being around people.

Now that everyone had been through the year here, people seemed more open and things were more comfortable than they had been at the start. You could see some people were paired off with their matches, some people in groups. There were some that you’d seen together before so either they were rematched or…they had been drawn to previous matches.

“I’ll be right back,” Matt said with a laugh after talking to someone off to the side for a bit. “Jen likes to debate cases with me and there’s another lawyer she wants me to meet so we can debate him too.”

You laughed and gave his hand a squeeze before you waved him and Jen off. You knew the two of them had matched before, had seen them together, but you weren’t jealous as you watched the two of them walk off and laugh. Instead you were just glad that Matt was enjoying himself.

“Long time no see,” Billy said from behind you.

You turned around and smiled. 

“We saw each other at like the last two block parties. It’s not been so long.”

Billy shrugged, a glint in his eyes as he came a little closer to you. You felt the warmth from his body get closer to you and had to force yourself not to sway into his space.

“Feels like forever to me,” he said with a shrug.

You shook your head and laughed. Then you took a sip of the drink you’d forgotten you were holding, hoping it would clear your head a bit.

“Where’s your match?”

Billy looked surprised that you’d asked. He looked around and then shrugged.

“She was around somewhere. Where’s yours?”

You opened your mouth to reply when you saw Matt and Jen on their way back. Jen smiled at you, no hint of anything on her face as she took in you and Billy standing so close. She just patted Matt on the back.

“Thanks for your help. Maybe the rest of the month he won’t be so sufferable,” she joked. Then she waved at you and Billy before disappearing off into the crowd again.

You easily grabbed Matt’s arm and he leaned into you a bit. You knew that he’d had a few drinks which would make anyone wobbly but you assumed being blind and drunk was probably an interesting combination.

“You okay Matt?”

He smiled at you, that big breathtaking smile that made you immediately smile back. Then he swayed a bit so you quickly grabbed his shoulders to steady him. His hands went to your hips, a little lower and to the back then was probably helpful.

“I’m good. Wanna go back in?” He asked the question with a slow jerk towards the house.

You started to laugh but immediately swallowed it as you heard a throat clear behind you. You turned a bit, careful not to dislodge Matt. Billy looked less than impressed with the situation. In fact if looks could kill, Matt would probably be dead.

It was a good thing Matt was blind. If he saw Billy glaring like that, he might get the wrong idea.

Or the right one, as it were.

“I’m going to…it was good to see you.”

Billy opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but then he snapped it shut. He didn’t turn away though, just stared. Finally you had to look away and help Matt up the walkway towards the house the two of you shared.

When you turned around to shut the door once inside, you couldn’t help but look at the spot where you had left Billy.

He was already gone.

—

You hummed along with the song playing in your headphones. It was something upbeat as was your usual choice for your jogs. You'd done a lap around the neighborhood already but stopped as you came across the footbridge. Your memory was clear but you didn't think that had anything to do with seeing Billy standing on the bridge. 

"Billy?"

He turned around in surprise. When he saw you, he smiled and gestured you over.

"Stopped on my run. Didn't think I'd see you out here."

You shrugged your shoulders as you crossed over the grass and stepped onto the bridge. 

"Just had some energy to get rid of."

Billy nodded at that and then turned to look over the water. You leaned against the railing beside him, about two feet away from him, and looked out to the water as well. It glittered under the early morning sunlight. 

"You know we could just leave if we wanted to."

That took you by surprise. You looked over at him but he was still staring at the water. 

"I mean, yeah, we could just head back to our houses."

He huffed out a laugh and looked over at you.

"I mean we could leave the neighborhood. Grab out bags, go back to the city. They aren't holding us prisoner here."

You knew that was true, but it didn't feel right. 

"Is that what you want to do? To just leave before the end?"

He sighed as he turned back away from you. 

"I will always choose to see something through to the end, but…it's still a possibility."

You reached out and grabbed his hand. He twitched a bit, surprised that you made the contact, but he easily let his fingers link with yours. 

"No matter what happens at the end of the month, nothing is set in stone. Unless…your feelings have changed at all?"

He turned to look at you, a look of disbelief on his face. 

"Impossible."

You smiled and squeezed his fingers. 

"Couple more weeks. If we match with other people, we will see how it goes. And then when we are back in the city, we will meet up. That place you told me about, the restaurant with the really good steak? We will meet there one week after the program ends. If we change our minds by then, we will address it like adults. If we haven't changed our minds, then that will be our beginning."

Billy stared at you for a long moment before he squeezed your hand. He leaned in and kissed your cheek.

"One week after. Seven o'clock. I'll see you then."

You watched him walk off the bridge and then start jogging again. Once he was out of sight you turned to face the water once more.

Your feelings for Billy were so overwhelming sometimes, but you had to admit you didn't know where this was going to go. If your end match was Bucky or Matt? Would you want to give them a chance or would you just say screw it to the algorithm and the compatibility and choose Billy?

It was too difficult to think about just yet. You'd need to see how it felt in the middle of it all. 

That in mind, you turned and headed back to the house you shared with Matt.

—

It wasn't a spoken decision, but you and Matt stopped sleeping together. You still cuddled and kissed, but besides actually sleeping together, nothing else happened. Clothes stayed on, hands didn't wander. 

You wondered why he held back. Maybe he sensed your uncertainty. Maybe he held some of his own. 

At the end of the month, you woke to an empty bed. He often got up and worked out or just read in the living room. Insomnia was an old friend of yours so you understood. 

However it did give you a chance to grab your pad. One slot machine spin later, you stared at the 93% on the screen. A three percent growth. It was still a high compatibility score.

You locked the pad and put it down. In a few hours you'd get taken to the main center and see your final score. It would lead to you and your final match going on a week long vacation together in the real world once more. For a lot of people it would be the beginning of something great. For some people it would be the end.

You wished you knew for certain which it would be for you. 

—

You kissed Matt on the cheek as you both stood between the cars. He squeezed your hand gently before he turned to get into the back seat of his. You followed suit and got into the back seat of your car.

Neither car moved. You looked around and saw other cars still in the driveways. Just as you were about to ask what was going on, your pad chimed.

Did they tell you your match here? You thought…

There was a notification from the program. You clicked on it and waited a second. A video began to play, the woman from the greeting video smiling as she spoke.

"Congratulations on completing a full year in the Compatible neighborhood. We hope you have enjoyed your stay and have made some meaningful connections. Before we bring you to the center to meet your match, we want you to have a one last chance match. Once this video is over, a screen will pop up. Unlike with our algorithm, this is your choice. You will fill in your top three matches and if one of them also pick you, you will be brought to them. If none of your picks match up, it will default to the person you have the second highest compatibility with. Have a good evening and we will see you in the morning."

Once the video ended, a screen popped up with three numbered spots. You didn't even have to think about it before you picked Billy for the first spot. Then, after a hesitation, you picked Bucky and then Matt for the second and third spots. 

You doubted you'd need those spots but it required them before it would submit your choices. 

A few minutes later your driver's phone dinged. He read it silently and then started the car. Your heart was racing as he pulled out and directed the car down the road.

You recognized the house he pulled into. It was the first house you'd been in, the one you shared with Billy the first time. The other car was already parked and waiting. You barely let your car stop before you jumped out. 

Arms were around your waist before your feet were even on the ground. Billy was there, holding you tight to him. Your bags were taken to the house but neither you or Billy parted. Instead you both just hobbled towards the house together, unwilling to release each other. 

At least you both waited to be in the house before you kissed him. Didn't want to give the entire neighborhood a show.

Just like the second time you matched, Billy dominated the kiss and used his grip on you to pull you towards the bedroom. You followed eagerly, tugging off each other's clothes as fast as you could. 

The house would be covered in clothes but you didn't care. You just wanted Billy inside you, sooner rather than later.

—

"We could still leave," Billy said from above where you were curled up in his lap. "Grab our bags and just go."

You looked at where your fingers were threaded with his. 

"We owe it to ourselves to see it through. We have to have faith. Open heart and open mind, remember?"

Billy smiled, showing he knew exactly what your response would be. 

"One week after it ends, right?"

You pulled him down to you to give him a kiss.

"Seven o'clock on the dot."

There were still twelve more hours before you had to meet the cars again. Until then, the two of you had more you wanted to do and less you needed to say.

—

The center was a large gray building. It was an eyesore compared to the rest of the neighborhood. There were about ten different entrances and people were funneled through. You saw a few familiar people that you barely had a chance to acknowledge before you were ushered into a plain beige room. 

This was it. In a few minutes you'd know who your final match was. The whole experiment, the whole year came down to this.

A screen on the wall lit up with your name. You took a deep breath as you waited for the slot machine did its thing. 

97%. Your match was 97%. You laughed, an easiness settling over you even before the name populated at the bottom. 

You already knew who it would be. 

William Russo. 

Billy. 

A door at your side clicked and then came open. Billy was there, his eyes wide and then crinkling as his smile nearly overtook his face. 

"Still have an open heart and mind?"

You laughed and nearly threw yourself at him. 

"C'mere!"

His kiss tasted familiar as he spun you around a bit. You laughed into it and tugged him closer and closer.

"We have to pick where we want to go for our week," you said against his lips, barely wanting to separate from him. 

"Mm, I don't care where we go. I have a date I need to keep in a week though."

You laughed into the kiss, an immeasurable happiness rising in your chest. You leaned back and smiled at him.

"I love you."

Billy took your chin in his fingers to draw you into another kiss, this one soft and sweet. 

"I love you too."

You didn't care where you two ended up either. All you cared about was getting to be with Billy in reality. 

You'd never been so ready for something.

—

The restaurant was busy but it wasn't hectic. You and Karen were seated pretty quickly because Billy had called in a reservation your first day at the resort the two of you had ended up at.

"I can't believe I'm going to meet your match," Karen said with a smile and a nudge of her foot against yours. "Finally."

You smiled dreamily and looked around, hoping Billy got here soon.

"He's bringing his best friend to meet me too. I've heard so much about Frank it's like I already know him. I think you'll like him too."

You caught the edge of Karen's smirk.

"I'm sure I will like him."

Huh. Something about the way she said that made you look away from the hostess stand to look at your best friend. She was dressed nicely, her hair pulled over her shoulder. She was smirking and not meeting your eyes.

Holy shit!

"Frank?! Your man friend from the forum is Frank?! Billy's best friend Frank?!"

An unfamiliar voice chimed in.

"Aw, you spoiled the surprise."

You looked up to see Billy and Frank standing beside the table. Billy looked as surprised as you were when Frank leaned down to kiss Karen. 

"Talk about compatibility," joked Billy as he gave you a kiss before he sat beside you. "We are so compatible even our best friends fell in love."

If you needed proof that this was right? You had it now.

X

Thank you for reading!

X

@readers-posts​ @aikeia​ @hummelmi 

[deadhumourist]

Fandom Finds - last week of Dec

Hello! I finally got to catch up on some much-needed reading, and I'm in absolute awe of how incredibly talented people on here are. So I'm going to do a weekly round-up of things I loved in the Pedro Pascal fandom- art, fics, you name it. Here's what I loved in Dec (and a little before then, as it's the intro post!)

A gentle reminder to please support and reblog from your favourite creators to ensure more people see their amazing work!

Here we go, under the cut:

Starman (series) - @imtryingmybeskar (Ezra x F!Reader)

You know when you read something so good, you close your laptop because no words you can put on paper is going to come close to what you just read? That was me last week. This series is incredible - sensitive, insightful, a transportive glimpse into something very different. Ezra drops into his soulmate's lap, but it's not as simple as that. Clear your schedule. Read it.

Driving Mr Tovar (series) - @sirowsky (Pero Tovar x F!Reader)

When I read the original series, I turned into that crazed fan that sent the author songs that reminded me of her fic. Luckily the lovely author humoured me and we are still friends today. She's currently updating the series and the updated version is EVEN better than the original (I'm halfway through the reread of Chapter 1). Pero Tovar doesn't let anyone into his life, least of all his new driver. But he has no idea who he's up against and how his life will change. Perfect holiday escapism right here.

Queen of Poisons (series) - @artemiseamoon (Ezra x F!OFC)

Arte's Ezra and fantastic OFC Nyx has been living completely rent-free in my brain since I first inhaled the series months ago. The push and pull between these two is delicious and her heroine is a deeply nuanced badass who doesn't stand back when faced with danger. If you like supernatural worlds and strong female protagonists, you will love this.

Flowers for Ishtar (series) - Beskarberry (Din Djarin x F!Reader)

I already screamed at the author like an unhinged banshee, but this was one of the most fantastical, wild series I have ever read. Non-human!Mando and F!Reader have a solid partnership until he starts acting very weird. Please, for the love of the reptilian spacepope, read the extensive and detailed warnings, because this won't be for everyone. But if you do proceed - it's funny, magical, soft, sexy, unhinged and brilliant science-fiction fantasy with our favourite buckethead.

My only wish (series) - @foli-vora (Jack Daniels x F!Reader)

Come get your fluffy, sweet Christmas goodness here! Jack Daniels grinches his way into a a situation he never thought he's find himself in. Special appearance by a hilarious little menace who forces Jack and Reader's hand as subtly as a sledgehammer. Treat yo'self.

Unnamed (one-shot) - @juletheghoul (Frankie Morales x F!Reader Siren)

Jules' short and utterly *beautifully* devastating story about Frankie and a Siren will haunt you in more ways than one. It's the kind of story that you think about at 2am when you can't sleep.

The Fox, the Mage and the Cupboard (series) - @littlemisspascal (Multiple characters x F!Reader)

Make a cup of tea, settle under a fleece blanket and let Rae transport you to a magical world where you can forget about all the madness and real world problems. It features Javi G, Din and Pero and she makes them all very special, very distinct from each other. This series feels like a soft hug with some yearning for good measure.

An Evening with Monsters (series)- @clydesducktape (Triple Frontier boys in individual stores x F!Reader)

Kinktober hit different this year with this delicious line-up of monsters - the Triple Frontier boys are an absolute feast in this series. Thia is an incredibly talented writer, it might not be Halloween anymore, but you'll be yearning for these boys anyway.

All about the Bass - @katareyoudrilling (Marcus Pike x F!Reader)

Listen. This author has created a musical universe with the most perfect Marcus Pike (a musician) and I refuse to leave. I refuse. Get your bag, we're going to Yearnsville and staying there - this is romantic and soft and amazing. Marcus and you join an orchestra and it's not just musical notes flying. *chef's kiss*

[mirrorthoughts]

I started watching TW season one again (the only one I actually watched so far 😂) and once again I'm just amused by the plotholes and discrepancies and things they show or say once and never refer to or use again, as well as the technical side of camera shots and cgi - and I'm only in episode 5 so that's a record if you ask me. (Nevermind that me picking at threads already started with eposiode 1 😂)

Disclaimer: As I said I've never watched that much of the actual series even if I steal the characters to write! Also I'm definitely biased due to the fandom, wiki entries I read and so on. So take all this with a grain of salt! It's mostly stuff I was amused by so if I have it wrong - well. I have it wrong, I guess.

Anyway. On to my observations: (this got long, so I hid them under the readmore)

Sorry to all the people who like scott, but... he's so boring <.< WHY is that guy the main character? EVERYONE else would be more interesting just from a storytelling point of view! Give me Finnstock, Danny, the Sherrif, or any of the other main cast and just get rid of Scott as main POV <.< please.

It's so funny that they tried to make it some kind of horror tv show. I actually recognize classical horror movie scenes, camera shots that should invoke a certain fear or surprise but they somehow manage to put it in such a context that I laugh because I recognize what they want to do and it just doesn't work. Might be a me-problem because I like watching horror films, but... it's still very sad.

Stiles says he once had a boa. I asked the internet and it told me boas in zoos can get about 28 years old... Stiles is 16. Stiles... Stiles, what did you do with your boa?... STILES....

The scene where Stiles and Scott talk through video chat (and is that AOL? Those were AOL-icons... was AOL still alive in 2011? <.<) and Derek stands behind Scott... it's just... why did Scott stare at the screen instead of turning around? Nevermind that he read what Stiles was writing out loud and that Stiles's message was written in such large letters that probably anybody standing 5 miles away could have read it - nevermind the guy Stiles thought was standing behind Scott. Also: why did Derek just... stand there. Especially once he was sure he'd been seen...? I know that's also one of the Horror-esque scenes I mentioned but the timing of it all was so bad! (also also: Scott is just stupid <.<)

They use this weird alternative 'sight' for werewolves in the beginning (the scenes colored in red) and it feels like they use that in the first few episodes and never again after that <.<

Another weird scene: The game where Scott wolfs out and Jackson stays back and finds Scott's glove with holes where Scotts claws came out. I just... have so many questions... 1) Why did Jackson stay back after not only his own WINNING team but also the audience, the enemy team, coach finnstock and ANYONE ELSE who was probably assigned to clean up the field? He even was still in his own lacrosse gear so he stood back to take up a glove a person who'd cleaned up the field should have taken with them?... 2) Why the fuck was Derek staring at him? <.<... or rather, why was he staring at him for so long so Jackson even looked at him? Did Derek even see the whole game? Why did he let Jackson see him? It's not like he tried to scare him into staying silent, for that his staring wasn't nearly scary enough <.<... it's just... another weird composition. Especially since Jackson and Derek have nothing to do with each other <.<...

Scotts dream where he killed Allison in the bus that mimicked how Peter/the Alpha killed the bus driver. Even though later it comes out that he was there and tried to keep the Alpha from killing the guy, this dream is just one instance where they try to 'show' Scott's 'connection' with the Alpha. Correct me if I'm wrong, but the connection he has with Peter is the one and only time we see such a connection between an Alpha and a Beta, I think. I mean the whole "I dream of things the Alpha did" and the whole not remembering/blacking out due to instincts and Alpha?

Also, Scott was apparently was hurt/slashed by the Alpha's claws. How come that wound was healed the next morning? I thought wounds caused by an Alpha heal slower? <.< or is that a fandom thing? <.<

I want to hug Derek. Hard. Poor boy drives to a town he got traumatized in to help his sister/Alpha where she ALSO gets killed and all those stupid teenies do is blame him for her death, for their problems and for anything else the new Alpha did - especially the other killings - so he gets locked up by the Sherrif and when he gets out that stupid pup has the gall to search him out just to - again - blame him for all of his problems and even for the death of his sister and the bus driver <.<...

On that note: I think Derek said he came to find his sister/meet his sister. To me it sounded in that moment as if he hadn't known she was dead when he arrived and that confuses me...

Also: shouldn't he also have a connection/pack bond with the Alpha if he wants to or not? Or does a pack just fall apart when the old Alpha dies until they've submitted to the new one? <.< And doesn't that mean that Derek's currently a packless Omega? <.<...

Aaand there's another horror film track shot classic that sends the camera from Derek and Scott to the outside of the Hale house where the Alpha is waiting/his eyes are glowing in the dark. ... So why didn't the Alpha go to them? Or did he just... sit there and stare at the house until Scott leaves? If the Alpha runs on instinct why didn't he try to get to Scott or Derek - especially after Scott left - when he is trying to get Scott and Derek to accept being part of his pack? <.<...

Kate drives into town without stopping and the Alpha attacks here somewhere in town. Close enough to Scotts home that he sees her shortly after she shoots her shotgun twice when the shots were what woke him up. 1) did the Alpha smell her through her car and the fumes? <.< 2) did he just stumble over her car while running through the town?? <.<... 3) if not, did he follow her from the outside into town? why didn't he attack her there instead of somewhere quieter? <.<...

I'm still confused by the whole Derek clawed Jackson in the neck and it did something to Jackson-stuff. Especially because Derek's not an Alpha yet <.<...

And finally just a quote from Derek that amused me for potential fanfic reasons when Scott asks why Derek can't just track the Alpha as a human: "Beause his human scent could be entirely different" <.<

[storiesbyrhi]

Bones and All - Chapter 10: Counting Numbers

Eddie Munson/Reader Series Masterlist

Warnings: canon typical violence/gore, swearing, weird parental relationships, animal farming/slaughterhouse setting (1 scene only); psychiatric hospital setting (1 scene only); discussion of religion; suicidal ideation/thoughts; no beta; updated each chapter

Synopsis: A Bones and All AU. What do you hunger for?

Chapter Summary: You walk a lonely road. 2822 words.

Author's Note: We are diverging from the book/film, my friends, because we wanna have a little more Stranger Things in this AU before we rejoin the canon. Enjoy. Also, a reminder my work has no beta, and is often riddled with typos. Forgive me, pls.

The first night you spent without Eddie was in Frankfort. In the morning, you woke up in a playground cubby house miserable, then hitched your way to Indianapolis. Another two nights alone in the city had you desperately lonely. All the people with their happy little normal lives. Couples in restaurant windows. Families in the parks.

You walked the streets scared and resentful. Guilt for leaving Eddie was eating you alive, so to speak, and the regret felt like it would last forever. It was turning you into a bitter and dangerous thing.

Breaking into cars and stealing cash and anything useful was easy enough; the hard part was avoiding witnesses. Early in the morning after your third night in Indi, you were down an alleyway behind some apartments. You smelt him before you saw him.

A man was asleep in the driver’s seat of a car. Through the window, you watched him breathe. On the backseat was a pile of clothes, his wallet, and some toiletries. He’d been kicked out of home, you figured. Maybe he’d been unfaithful. Maybe he’d hurt her. Your mind was giving you a lot of different maybes that would justify what your stomach was begging you to do.

You shook your head to yourself.

No.

Penny. Luke. Dmitri. Kevin. Marcus. Noble. CJ. Jamie. Lydia. Steve.

I’m not a monster.

Before you could settle on a story about the man and one about yourself, the front door opened and the man leaned out with a cough. You could smell the booze.

“What the fuck you doin’?” the man asked, squinting through the morning light.

You took a step back.

“Oh, hey, hey. Sorry, love,” he said, trying to soften his voice. He’d seen you and subsequently decided you were not a threat to him. Perhaps, the man thought, you could be of use. “You need some help or something?”

“No,”

“You sure? You look hungry.” And he looked hungover in the vilest way. “You wanna get in? I’ll take us to get breakfast, huh?”

Penny.

As you took a step closer to the car, the man smiled and it was nothing like Eddie’s.

Luke.

You could feel his eyes follow you as you rounded the front of the Honda Acord.

Dmitri.

The passenger door didn’t open as you lifted the handle; the man leaned across to pull up the lock.

Kevin

You hesitated for a second, wondering where Eddie was.

Marcus

The inside of the Acord was stuffy, the air stale.

Noble

“I’m Brian. What’s your name?”

CJ

“Wendy,” you lied.

Lydia

“Well, Wendy, you sure are pretty.”

Steve

Brian.

…

The Honda Accord took you northeast to Muncie. You didn’t stop to clean up until you were well beyond Indi’s city limits.

At the public library on Jackson Street, you found a quiet spot to read. The words on the page melted into the pink flesh of your brain and refused to process. When it took three goes at one page, you gave up, opting to instead pull out your journal.

The lines on the page asked how you felt, but you didn’t want to feel.

Slamming the journal shut and throwing it at your bag,  you earned a few disapproving looks from the locals. Glaring back at them, you hardly recognised yourself.

You thought you were just hungry, but Brian was settling in your stomach and it still wasn’t enough. You wanted Eddie.

No.

He was better off without you. Yeah. He could do his own thing and not have to look after you and eat who he wants and not be made to feel guilty and… and…

Fuck.

There was a reason you’d not left Indiana yet. There was a reason your mind kept coming up with wild and fantastical stories about how Eddie got his scar. There was a really fucking obvious reason your entire existence was burning with longing.

“Well hello, little missy.”

A shiver ran down your spine. You looked up and saw him standing at the end of the aisle, the shadow of all the books casting him in half darkness.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He looked exactly how you remembered. The jacket, rat’s tail, and ear.

“Uh, hi… Sully,” you greeted, quickly putting your things in your bag and throwing it over your shoulder.

“Oh, you ain’t sad to see old Sully, are you missy? ‘Cause seems to me like this is some good luck,”

“Luck?”

“Well, you know. Without your new friend anymore.”

Luck or happenstance had nothing to do with it. “Have… Have you been following me?”

“I know, it seems crazy to me too! I just didn’t know what else to do,”

“What? Why?”

“Because we didn’t have our chance to say our goodbyes,” Sully said, moving toward you.

You walked out of the aisle and into a more open section of the library. Sully was keeping his voice low, and nobody was paying much attention.

“And I’ve been worrying on you. On your own as you are now,”

“Uh… Why… Why not say hello or something earlier then?”

“Oh no, I don’t interrupt. That’s bad manners. And you was with your friend. Where’d he go now? I saw him took off from Lafayette real fast. Is he your boyfriend?”

“No, just a friend,” you answered, not sure why you were saying anything at all. Sully was looking you up and down, even reaching out to touch your face. You dodged his hands and shook your head.

“Oh, just a friend,” he repeated. “Maybe he didn’t get that telegram… He one of us?”

Normally the fact that people were predisposed to say nothing, do nothing, bystander effect, was to your benefit. But then and there, you silently screamed at the library patrons to help. For one person to step up and ask if you were okay. Eddie would have.

“Well, like I says – life is never dully with Sully… What do you say? Uh… Wanna… You wanna take a ride with Sully for a bit?”

“It’s… it’s weird that you’ve been following me,”

“It’s only been a couple of weeks – life will get weirder. I promise,” he said with an awkward chuckle and a terrible attempt at nonchalance. The laughter made the librarian look up. Sully continued his pitch. “I liked… I liked our talk. It’s a hard and lonesome road for us, isn’t it? So, there ain’t no sense making it lonelier,”

“I’m… a girl,”

“I know, about my daughter’s age… If I had one,”

“Is that what this is?” you asked.

Anger flashed across Sully’s face. You saw it before he could control it. He stepped from foot to foot on the spot, shoved his hands into his pockets, and hunched forward. “How do you like that?” he mumbled to himself.

“I’m not trying to upset you, Sully. I just don’t feel comfortable with this.” You could hear it in your tone, and you knew Sully probably could too. It wasn’t your intention to be patronising, but it was that or bare your teeth.

“You’ve never fit with someone before?” he asked then, making eye contact.

“I have… It’s just gotta go both ways.” And it had. It had for you and Eddie.

Sully started to breathe heavily. “You don’t like Sully,”

“Why do you say your name like you’re two different people?” you asked, itching with the feeling of being manipulated.

“You don’t like me,”

“I don’t trust you. And it doesn’t matter if I’m wrong or I’m right about that. It just matters that I feel it,”

“So, you’re not coming with me?”

Sully spoke like a child and his logic wasn’t far off that pattern either. Yet, there was an unmistakable knowing in his look and in his actions. Neither part of him was a facade. That’s what made him so unhinged and deadly.

Had Lydia Harmon been dying when Sully had found her? Or had he helped her along? If you hadn’t slipped out of the house that morning, where would you be now?

Everything was coming into focus.

“Not coming with you.”

There were a few seconds where you thought maybe he’d leave. “Fuck you, then,” he said quietly. He took his hands out of his pockets. “Fuck you, missy.”

You nodded and took a step away from him. Sully responded by rushing forward and grabbing your shoulders.

“You fucking bitch! I ate with you! I dried off with you! I ain’t ever done that with anyone else!”

Other people came running over to pull him off you.

“That means something, missy! That means something!”

As soon as his arms were ripped from you, you bolted from the library and down the street. Throwing yourself into the Accord, you started to sob. You could almost hear Eddie’s voice in your head telling you to go, go, GO!

You speed down Jackson Street and straight out of Muncie, watching the rearview mirror the entire way.

…

The ringing abruptly stopped.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Red,”

“Eddie?!”

“Yeah… Sorry I haven’t called in a few days… Been, ah… Doesn’t matter. How are you? You good?”

“Where are you? You sound weird,”

“I’m, ah, I’m driving home actually,” Eddie told her.

“Really? When will you get here?”

“Tomorrow. I’ll be there tomorrow,”

“Can you stay?” There was hope in Max’s voice. Eddie was a monster for a lot of reasons, but he wouldn’t let it be for dimming that last light.

“Yeah. Yeah, this time I can,”

“Wayne’s gonna freak! Can I tell him?”

“Yeah, Red. Go for it.”

Max went to say something else, but the sound on the other end of the line stopped her. “Are you crying?” she asked.

“What? No. I’m good,”

“Ohhhhhkay… Can I tell Dustin you’re coming?”

“Sure… I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow.”

…

After Muncie, you went east through Winchester and Versailles. It was easier being without a home in a city than it was out rural. You would have to decide to steal or buy supplies if you wanted to keep traveling, or find a place to make home. Deep down, you knew you weren’t going to do either. It was just stubbornness keeping you from where you wanted to be.

When you got to Sidney, Ohio, you ditched the Honda Accord and continued into the city centre on foot. Unlike Eddie, you weren’t well-versed in asking to swap number plates on a stolen car. And there was the fact that Sully knew the car. It was easier to disappear without it.

You found a mall and hatched a plan. As a child, you’d been so afraid of being left behind. Abandoned. Forgotten. Whenever you and your mother went shopping, you’d never wander off, terrified that she’d leave and you’d be locked in a giant store after closing hours. Now, it was exactly what you were aiming to do.

Biding your time, you considered hiding options. Eventually, you crawled under a display bed, finding the space below hollowed out and empty – no mattress or springs in sight. Laying starfished out on the floor, you listened as customers went by. Staff restocked and cleaned. Then, the store emptied.

That night, you remained on the floor under the bed, satisfied with a roof over your head. There would be no complaints about a lack of a soft below. In your dreams, your father came to you and smiled as he held out his hand. You opened my mouth and he put his fist inside. You ran down corridors, the walls stained with words, and one by one you found them, each of them, waiting for you in the dark.

...

Seventeen nights. That’s all the time that had passed since you had been left with a letter.

Fourteen nights since you left that house and ventured out into the world.

Seven of those nights had been spent with Eddie.

And since you left Eddie with no letter, three nights.

When you woke up under the bed in the store, your spine felt like it had curled in on itself. “Fuck,” you mumbled. Walking it off didn’t help. Shoplifting ibuprofen didn’t help.

More counting.

Six days since your last shower.

And the cash? Enough for another week unless you gave in to the fantasy of blowing it all on a family size pizza and shitty hotel room. But that would be dumb. It would be so fucking stupid.

…

“Yeah, hi, could I get a large meat lovers? With extra meat… Um… all of them? … Yeah. Thanks. I’m at the motel on the highway, um, opposite the new roadhouse? … Yeah that one. Room 7… Thanks.”

…

The knock on the door was gentle at first, just a soft tap tap. You hadn’t slept well in days, so deep in sleep that the noise was useless. When Anna knocked again, she called out, “Housekeeping!”

It wasn’t out of the norm to find people in the motel rooms after the prearranged check-out time. Anna unlocked room 7, stood in the doorway, and sighed. She looked around. Empty pizza box. Bag hardly unpacked. Towel on the floor.

“Miss! Miss! Housekeeping!”

You didn’t stir.

Anna walked into the room, carefully. She was always careful. “Miss. You need to wake up.” She poked your shoulder.

That did it. You shot up, twisting yourself in the sheets, and flying off the bed with a yelp. Anna waited for your head to pop up.

“Sorry!” you squeaked. “Sorry. I slept in. I’ll go.”

As she watched you pull jeans on and shove things into your bag, she smelt it. “How old are you?” she asked.

You looked up at her. “Twenty-one,”

“You seem younger.” Anna waited for you to figure it out. Nothing yet. “You’ve got… plans. Some place to go?”

“Uh… Yeah. Yeah. Totally,”

“I don’t believe you,” she stated. “You’re running. You eat the wrong person?”

That’s the trouble with questions, one always leads to another.

You stood up. Focused your senses. The penny dropped and you were instantly afraid. Of the three eaters you’d met, only one had been good. With a 66.6% rate of bad, you were already calculating if you could make it to the door before she could do anything.

“It’s alright. I know what it’s like out there,” Anna said. “Look… The kid they got at the desk is a couple fries short of a Happy Meal, so nobody’s gonna notice you staying another night. Just keep the lights off and stay quiet.”

As she turned to leave, you quickly said, “Thank you.”

Anna looked at you and frowned. “You can’t live like this. I tried. I tried for a long time. You stay out on the road and you get lonely. You get mean and you accept ungodly company. Can’t live like that,”

“I don’t… I don’t know what… else to do.”

She leaned against the doorframe. “Find somewhere. Or someone. Anything to keep you tethered to a real life.”

It must have been written all over your face. Anna smirked.

“Maybe you already found it. Don’t run from it… Be gone by morning, alright? And don’t eat the kid at the counter. He’s dumb, but he’s good people.”

You stood in the middle of the motel room a little shellshocked. For all the emotional repressing you were doing, a perfect stranger could see it on your face easily. Eddie felt like home. He felt like home. And you needed him and you wanted him and you would run all the way to him if you had to.

Sometimes you don’t know how true something is until you’ve heard the words put around it.

…

Eddie could have been anywhere. The only way to find him was to start at the beginning – Hawkins, Indiana. Maybe you’d find him there, but at the very least you could leave a message with Max for when he called her.

You hitched a ride from Sidney to Fort Recovery and another over state lines to Marion. There, you sat on a bench outside of a gas station and waited.

“Where you heading?”

He was standing with his back to the sun, which sat low in the sky. A silhouette of a man with a sure voice.

“Hawkins,” you answered, holding your hand flat above your eyes to shield them.

“On the way, if you wanna ride.” He stepped towards his car – a 1985 Cadillac El Dorado convertible. To you though, just a rich guy’s fancy yellow car. It had a custom number plate reading ‘TODFTHR.’

Perfect.

Inside, you looked at the dashboard. It was an entirely different machine to the van you and Eddie had taken from Cowboy Cook.

“You like her?” the man asked as he pulled out of the gas station and onto the road. “Got her this year,”

“Sure… She’s… nice,” you tried, but you knew nothing about cars to really make the call.

“I’m Todd. What’s your name, babe?”

You answered, “Wendy.”

End Note: In case you didn't see, I posted a new Eddie x Reader one shot. AO3 link here. Tumblr link here.

Fic Taglist: @azydrateanatomy @pussy-drunk @mrsdollardog @akiratoro420

Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @munsonlives @sweetpeapod @depressooo-expressooo-blog @thorfemmes @hawkins-high @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @mymoonisalways-in-scorpio @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @lacrymosa-24 @mel-the-fangirl

[s0lar-ch3ri]

alright, we got a tag for this im making!

wanna see this lil series? look through the new tag:

#the rats rise again!

for mythborne after the oneshot!

the first one can be found here:

"So...this is not Wylld-Ryatts College anymore huh?" Ryan chuckled as the trio stood infront of the school. It was hard to believe; the school had the same appearance and colors and everything, just no longer belonged to the wild rats.

Aster nudged him. "We noticed that before idiot. Only thing is why." Ryan rubbed his shoulder as Aster put her hand on her hips and pondered. Yesterday, the whole school had been worried for their lives as rats filled up the stadium where the floatball game had happened. Today, nobody remembered a thing.

"Well," Connor spoke up. "There's definitely correlation to how yesterday ended, no doubt. One thing that gets me confused is how everything was changed, as in the thing that changed about them."

"I don't follow," Aster commented.

"Yeah, me neither," Ryan agreed.

"The school is now Wyld Wyverns, right?"

Aster and Ryan nodded.

"So why is the play called 'Bats'? Wouldn't it be something like, I don't know, Wyverns?"

"Or Wats!"

"...Thank you Ryan."

"You make a good point though Connor, it doesn't add up."

"But you have a guess for what it is, right?" Ryan chimed in. "You don't bring things like that up unless you have a plan."

Aster and Ryan turned to their closest friend. None of them could tell if yesterday was a very weird lucid dream or if today was said dream, no matter how real it all felt. However, they had each other, even if one of them didn't always work his brain right. Even if one of them had stayed transformed as a rat for a bit out of stage fright. Even if one of them had something change in him that night, they were together. That's why they were still here after all.

"What if this wasn't really 'meant' to happen? Something, or someone, at this point I'm not doubting any possibility, used some super powerful magic to cover the whole thing up, and the magic just," Connor did rapid hand movements as he spoke, then spent a couple seconds trying to find the right word. "filled in the gaps?"

Ryan was about to say something, but then they heard a honk from a car. As they turned, Professor Aeliana was there in the driver's seat, as dewy as he was before.

"Hey Sunny!" He called out. "Are ya ready to go home kiddo?"

With a fully red face and the snickers of Connor (plus Ryan's bright smile and goofy wave), Aster called back, "Give me a second!" As Aster used her hat to cover her face and muttered for Connor to shut up, Professor Aeliana yelled again.

"...Ryan, Connor, bring her back in one piece!"

"What do you mean Mr. Aeliana?-"

Aster's phone buzzed.

1 new message from #1 Dad: Since it is your last year of college, I want you 3 to make the most of it. Since you don't normally get to, I'm letting you have a sleepover with those 2. I trust you'll make it to your classes tomorrow alright, so have fun, okay honey? I love you. &lt;3

As they read the message, the professor had drove off. Aster smiled softly, there was a reason everyone liked him, even the one he constantly embarrasses.

"...You still have keys Aster?"

"Oh hell yeah, being in such a big club has its perks."

"Ryan, what are you-"

"Look, if we try looking around when school's open, we'll never find anything. But if we go in after school..."

"There's gonna be like nobody there to stop us."

"See, even Aster agrees with me!"

"Come on Connor."

"Wouldn't this be commiting a crime?"

"Isn't using dark magic to murder rats a crime?"

"There is a loophole anyways."

"Oh really?" Connor raised his eyebrow accusingly.

"Damn, and here I thought I'd be at risk of going to jail for real, phew! Or did that technically not happen because yesterday didn't happen..." Ryan wondered at the idea.

"There's always kids who have to stay afterschool, whether for tutoring or clubs, so we won't be totally alone."

"So we have to come later!"

"No, we go now. If the school is hosting students still, it's open, so it can't be breaking in, right?"

"Oh...yeah that makes more sense."

"Fine, but if this is a crime, I'm gonna kill you both."

Ryan laughed while Aster smiled and shook Connor's hand, knowing fully well that the provided threat could come true should Connor open to the right page.

"Right then," Aster pulled out a key ring with about 6 or 7 keys on it. "Let the wild rats rise again."

credit to @updogs-blog for the tags i jsut think this deserves its own post rather then a derailing reblog lol

should i write (on tumblr, on ao3 i will take forever) a mini series for these guys (asks could have like adventure requests and everything)? i feel like itd be fun (even if id have to make a new tag for it itd be worth it) and we get more mythborne content! ill let tumblr decide its fate...

(keep in mind: i can try to write them canonically but my own bias may slip through! ill try to catch it more if that does happen though, and if requested i can do headcanons in because who doesnt like a lil headcanon every now and then?)

i feel most confident in my ability to write: aster aeliana, ryan selucreh, biwi the rat

i think i could be somewhat accurate in writing: connor connors, professor aeliana, the j-crew, romeo

i dont think id do great, but ill still try to write: jasmine, the frat group, garry gilmore, etc

(i feel like tagging romeo juilet with that full name wont bring in the right fans...)

[mwuaferrari]

QUESTION...? — LANDO NORRIS

summary: Lando and Maia had been friends with benefits for a while. A relationship where she gave a lot and received little. Where he was focused on his work and was the only thing that had his attention. And where he realized too late what he had before he lost it.

pairing: lando norris x maia (reader)

words: 4.6K

warnings: Some bad words, a lot of angst, toxic relationships. Also, English is not my native language, so any spelling or writing error is the fault of the translator hehe.

notes: Attention with his friend Aurora, MAYBE she will appear in a following story with another driver;)

MATERLIST TAYLOR SWIFT SERIES

------

Lando and Maia had mutual friends, she was friends with Max Fewtrell so it was almost impossible that they didn't know about each other. They officially met at a party where Lando was DJing for fun. It was when he saw her in the crowd dancing with her friends, wearing an orange dress and moving freely as if there was no one else around her. 

He never stopped looking at her and he didn't mind looking like a psychopath, even when he was sitting at the bar he couldn't take his eyes off her, not even with her friend Max's comment about it. “You're already being weird. If you're not going to talk to her, please stop staring at her like that." 

So Maia felt a gaze on her and she surveyed the place for a few seconds until she found curious eyes a few meters away, barely visible among the crowd and the darkness of the place. 

Suddenly she began to walk towards them at a steady pace, and at that moment Lando thought that she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. 

—Hey Max! It's been a long time since we saw each other.—The girl gave the man a warm hug. 

—Yes! I think the last time we saw each other was at that festival a few months ago. How have you been? This is my friend Lando, by the way. 

—I've been wonderful, actually. Thank you for asking— Without stopping smiling, she directs her gaze towards the brunette, who was in a kind of trance— Ah yes, Lando, your friend who is now a driver in Formula 1, or am I wrong? Hello, nice to meet you. 

Lando is still in shock until his friend elbows him in the ribs. 

—You're a Mclaren fan.

—What? 

—No, it was a joke. You know, because of the color of your dress. It's the same color as my team, Mclaren, orange— After Lando's answer, Max hits his face with his hand, embarrassed. Then he walks away from them, getting a confused look from the other two. 

—Sorry, that was so stupid. You're so beautiful and I was just trying to flirt. 

Maia finally laughs. 

—Let me tell you, you're terrible at flirting, and I'm also more of a Ferrari fan type, I'm so sorry. But thanks for the compliment, you're cute too.

Just a couple of minutes later they were both in one of the on-site bathrooms, sloppy hands trailing over each other's bodies eagerly as they desperately kissed.

6 month later

“We had one thing going on, I swear that it was something ´cause I don't remember who I was before you painted all my nights in color I've searched for since”. 

Maia and Lando continued to see each other, but their relationship hadn't fully progressed. They had decided to remain a kind of friends with benefits. Neither of them were really looking for a relationship; Lando just wanted to focus on his Formula 1 career, she was scared of how well known he was and what it would do to her fans to see him with someone like her. But she was in love, finally she fell harder, while he looked less and less interested. 

—I should go, it's late.—Lando says as he play with her bra strap. 

—Why don't you stay?—she asks carefully, already knowing the answer but wanting to try to get him to stay anyway. 

—You know I can't, darling, tomorrow I have to travel and the next day the practices start and… 

—...And you have to rest, I know.—She stands up a little and leans on her elbow to look into his eyes. She raises her hand and begins to caress the curlers of his hair lovingly.—But you can rest here anyway. You can sleep with me, tomorrow we get up, I can make breakfast and... 

—No, I'm sorry.—He was already pulling away from her touch and getting up from the bed as he put on his clothes that were scattered around the room.

—What?— her voice muffled by her blankets. 

When he finishes getting dressed, he turns to her, curious that she didn't respond to him. She always insisted for a while, but now she had gone quiet, lying back down and pulling her blankets up until they were completely covered up to her head.

—Maia...

—Honey please, we've talked about this before.—he says in an obviously tired voice.—You knew the terms when we started, I have to do my best at my job, and I can't… 

—I know, just go. 

—Come on Maia, don't be mad.—Lando finally walks over to the bed again and tries to pull the blankets off of her. As he does, she quickly turns her back on him, trying to hide the tears that streamed down her cheeks. 

—I'm not mad Lando, it's fine. Go away, it's late— And she wasn't lying. She wasn't angry...she was sad. 

He stands there for a few seconds looking at her, then sighs heavily, takes his things and leaves the apartment. 

“can i ask you a question? (...) did you leave her house in the middle of the night?” 

Two days later Lando and his teammate Daniel meet in the Mclaren garage by chance while resting in the gap between practice 1 and 2. 

—And when will you bring your girlfriend to the paddock?—The dark-haired man asks as he finishes lacing up his shoes. 

—She's not my girlfriend, I've already told you thousands of times. And I also told you not to say it so loud... 

—Why? Don't you want people to know you have a girlfriend?— He teases him as he stands up and looks around the garage. 

—Daniel… 

—Bro, I don't understand why you make such a big deal, would it be so bad if you guys were officially a couple?

—You know that I want to concentrate on my career mainly. If I have a girlfriend, I am going to lose focus on what I really have to pay attention to. 

—Come on Lando, she's magnificent and she only brings positive things to your life. I don't know why you would think that being her boyfriend could negatively influence your work if all she does is give you love. Who is the person who is constantly supporting you in everything? Who is the one who is always believing in you when you don't? Don't let her go my friend, you would be very stupid if you let her go. Give yourself a chance.

When Daniel finishes speaking, a smile on his face as always, he gives Lando a friendly pat on the back and walks away from him. 

That's when the gears in Lando's little head begin to turn. It's true, you are his motivation to continue, to be the best. Maybe Daniel was right, maybe they could take the next step. But Lando had one thing clear: he had to start putting more of his part, because he was aware that he is the one who gives less in the relationship, and she did not deserve that. 

He spent Friday practicing, qualifying Saturday finishing P7. He finally made it to race day Sunday finishing 5th. He couldn't get Maia out of his head ever since, but it wasn't a distraction, it was a motivation. So after his celebrations in the paddock, Lando decides that he is going to send her a message. Upon unlocking his phone, he sees that he already has a message. 

By Maia to Lando: Hey, congratulations on the race, you were great :)

By Maia to Lando: By the way, I want to talk to you about something. Let me know when you have time and I can call you X

By Lando to Maia: Hello sweetheart, thank you very much, I'm very happy… I was going to say exactly the same thing. I will be at the hotel at approximately 8pm, do you think I should call you at that time?

By Maia to Lando: 8pm is fine :) 

So as soon as Lando gets to his hotel room, he takes a shower as fast as he can. When he finished, he changed into comfortable clothes and took his phone to dial the girl. A couple of rings later Lando can hear Maia's voice through her cell phone. —Hi, how are you?—she starts. 

—Great, and you?— There were a few seconds of silence in which she didn't answer, so he spoke again— I miss you.

—Lando... I want to get straight to the point, I need to talk to you because I feel like if I keep this up, I'm going to explode.

Lando's heart shuddered at the sound of her overwhelmed voice. 

—What happen? Everything is alright? Did something happen to you?— He hastened to say. 

She took a few long seconds not knowing how to start. 

—Princess?... 

—Lando, I don't want to do this anymore. 

It took him a moment to absorb her words. 

—What do you mean? 

—”This", Lando. Us. I don’t want to keep doing this. This friends with benefits thing that we have.

 He gets up from his bed where he was sitting and starts to pace the room. This wasn't supposed to end here, he wanted to tell her that he was ready to make the first move, ask her if she was ready, and promise her that he was going to give more of his part. Give her everything she deserves

— I'm sorry, I would iked to tell you in person, but I don't think I can. 

—And may I know why you want us to end this? 

—Why? Lando, this is poisonous. See you just when you have time and then we have sex. You are worried about your work 90% of the time we spend together and I have always supported you. I have given you all of me. But the problem is that you don't give anything to me, and I don't deserve this. 

Lando swallows hard when she finishes speaking. He knew that everything she said is true, he was more than clear now. But he was ready to fix it, even if it was too late. 

—I, today I spoke with Daniel and now I know that…—He couldn't speak, he didn't know how to tell her that he didn't want to end this, that he wanted to have her forever with him and that he wanted to give her all the love she deserved.— Maia, please, just give me another chance, I... 

—Stop please, no…I can't. Let's leave this here. I wish you the best in your career and in your life, goodbye Lando. 

—Maia?...

There was no answer. She had cut the call. Heart in his throat, he got back into his contacts and dialed his friend and teammate. 

—Hello boy, how are you?

—Daniel, I'm stupid.

.…………………

Lando thought that from that moment it would only be possible to see her on social networks, and he did so. He constantly stalked her instagram account to see how she was doing, and he saw her happy and enjoying her life. 

Maybe this is for the best, he thought, maybe it's for the best that we're apart. 

On the other hand, Maia thought just the opposite. She missed him to death. She missed his voice. She missed running her hands through his hair. She missed talking to him about petty things. She even missed when he left her house late at night. 

She hadn't stopped seeing him at the races. Lando was having a rough patch and she just wanted to go, hug him, kiss him and give him all the words of support that she always gave him. But then she remembered how bad the relationship was and just doesn't feels right.

One day she decided to stop watching the races, hide his Instagram posts so she could forget about him. So she spent some time and she thought she was over it, until she got a call from Max Fewtrell. 

—Maia! How are you? 

—Hey! I'm fine, now I was tidying up my apartment a bit. How have you been?—She answered as she walked into her kitchen, sitting in one of the chairs. 

—Fine thanks. Hey, you know, in a week I'll be in your city, and as you may know I'll be on my birthday. So I'm going to have a party at a friend's house, a simple barbecue with some friends. Obviously you're invited, I'd really like you to go. 

—You know I never forget your birthday, and just send me the address and don't doubt that I'll be there.

—Cool! If you want you can take some friends with you if you like… But he will be there, I will fully understand if you don't want to go. But like I said before, I'd love for you to attend. 

—Don't worry Max, I'll go anyway. It's all okay now.— This was more to convince herself than her friend.—Thanks for letting me know, anyway. 

There were a few seconds of silence. "He". It obviously meant Lando. She would see him again. Would she be up for it? 

That week Maia tried to convince herself that everything would be okay. That she would see him again and that she was not going to fall back into his arms. 

Until the day, she thought that it would be best to text Max and tell him she was sick. He wouldn't believe her, that wouldn't work. 

—Maia, I know that face. You're not regretting it, are you?—Her friend Aurora watched her from the bed as she finished her makeup. 

Max had told her that she could bring friends, and Aurora would be the perfect friend to support her in situations like these. 

—Yes. I want to go, I really want to go. But I'm afraid. 

—Hey, I'll be with you, I won't leave you alone at any time. 

So it was. When they arrived at the place, both entered with their arms intertwined. Maia unconsciously started looking for Lando through all the crowd, but she couldn't find him. 

—Maia, nice to see you!—Max had approached both girls and gave the named one a big hug. 

—Happy birthday Max.— She told him seconds later slowly moving away from the hug.— I brought you this, I hope you like it. 

After a thanks for the gift and a brief introduction from Max and Aurora, the boy told them to make themselves at home and that whatever they needed, they should look for him. 

The party venue was a big house with an even bigger yard and a swimming pool. Outside was where most of the people were as they were having a barbecue and that was where there was an immensely long table. 

The day passed and passed and there was no sign of Lando. So Maia began to relax little by little. They both socialized with a couple of people, the atmosphere was great. 

—Hey girls, come and sit!— A man told them at one point. So they walked over to the table and sat down. Minutes later everyone was eating, laughing and talking to each other. 

—The star has arrived!—someone yelled. And that's when she heard his laugh. She would recognize him anywhere, anytime. 

—Sorry I'm late, I had some car trouble so I asked Charles to give me a ride.

Most of them turned to look at Lando, but she refused to do so. Lando for his part had not yet noticed her presence as he approached Max to give him a big hug. 

That's when Lando noticed her, she glanced at him as she continued to eat her food. The boy opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, wanting to say something but not finding the right words. Max across the table noticed this situation, so he quickly tried to fix it. 

He bumped a couple of fists as he searched for a free seat. Maia knew that the seat to the right of her was free, but she refused to believe that she was so unlucky that it would be the only one empty.

But yes, she was unlucky. 

—Henry, would you mind trading places with Lando?—he asked a random guy. 

—No Max, don't worry. Everything's fine.—Maia thrashed internally. Why did she say that? Maybe because she wanted to prove, and prove to herself, that everything was okay and that she was over it. Lando takes a seat and everyone goes back to their conversations before he arrives.

On her left side, her friend Aurora was peeking at her for any sign of discomfort. He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze to remind her that she was with her. 

The atmosphere continues as before with everyone talking to each other and Maia begins to let go as before Lando arrived. 

On the other hand, all Lando can do is look at her out of the corner of his eye. He had only given his food a couple of spoonfuls, had no appetite, not when she was inches away from him after months. 

Lando felt his hands itching to touch her, it only took five seconds of her touch to heal him completely. He couldn't stand it, his body screamed for it. He slowly brought his hand closer to her under the table. He started with small brushes and seeing no negative reactions from her part, he continued to do so. 

Maia felt it, of course she had, but she wanted it to appear unaffected, following her conversation with Aurora as if nothing was happening. In the next second, she felt his hand much firmer, now on her knee, where he gave a squeeze. That was definitely the straw that broke the camel's back of her sensations. 

She automatically jerked his hand away from her and Lando freaked out. She just gave him a "enough is enough" look, and she went back to some random conversation she was in. 

“Did you wish you'd put up more of a fight? When she said it was too much? Do you wish you could still touch her? It's just a question…" 

……………………………. 

After everyone finished eating, they began to slowly stand up and spread throughout the house. Lando lost sight of Maia when she went to the bathroom and thought it was the perfect time to find her alone. But he couldn't, Aurora was always there with her. She was now literally waiting for her at the bathroom door, as if she were her own bodyguard. 

When Maia came out of the bathroom, they both headed downstairs under Lando's watchful eye. He quickly approached them. 

—And then I told her to follow me, and she didn't listen to me, so she stayed locked up and…

—Hello girls. Maia, can we talk for a second?—He cut them off, getting right to the point. Both girls were surprised by the sudden appearance of the brunette. 

—Hello, of course.— Maia replies nonchalantly without moving. Then Lando looks at Aurora out of the corner of his eye. 

—But in private. 

—Anything you want to say to me, you can say it here. 

—But it's about us, please... 

—Yes, ummm. About that…I wanted to tell you that you can go get your things at my apartment— Lando wanted to reply something about it but she immediately continued speaking— Next week I'll be traveling, so you can go and enter with the key I gave you. 

When she finished speaking, both girls looked at him waiting for an answer. 

—Okay.—He said simply.

—And when you go out, leave the key on the table, please.

So it was. A week later Lando headed for the apartment he had so often left late at night and where he had left her with a cruel sense of loneliness. 

When he entered the place, the smell of her filled his nostrils. He took a deep breath and began to gather his things quickly.

But before leaving, he left the key on the table, just as she had asked. And along with that, he left a Formula 1 VIP pass in an envelope along with a note. 

"Hey, the next race will be here in Monaco. I'll leave you this vip pass so you can go if you want. I know you always wanted to go and I never took you because I'm stupid. Max and other friends are going too, so you can go with them to feel comfortable.

X 

PS: Don't feel obligated to go support me or anything, it's just so you can go have fun and watch the race :) Also, I know you're more of a Ferrari fan :) 

-have fun, Lando."

 …………………………… 

Race week 

Before qualifying, Max and three other friends came over to say hello to Lando and to give him good luck, but Maia wasn't with them. He didn't want to ask Max so as not to seem desperate, much less he was going to send her a message to harass her. 

After a tough lap battling the Alfa Romeo drivers, he was knocked out in the first round of qualifying, finishing 17th. He staggered out of his car, whispered a simple “sorry” to the people in the garage, and then headed off to his driver's room, waiting for the time to go to his hotel. 

After having a terrible night, the next day he arrived at the paddock with a zombie face and a mood worse than a zombie.

Until he saw her, she was wearing a flowing white dress, a small purse and his black converse. She was walking with Max's friends laughing at something he had said. 

—Lando, there you are, little star!

—Hey guys, good to see you.—He was just looking at her at that moment.

—I heard you got P17, I'm sorry. I hope today is a good race for you anyway, you can get to the pole if you put your mind to it and you know it.

And there she was. Lando's heart sped up when he heard her voice.

—Thank you Maia, I really appreciate it.

She saw Lando's face, he was defeated, and she knew that all he needed was a few words of support. 

—Lando, we need you here, please.— Some Mclaren engineer called the boy from the garage. 

—Bye guys, see you later.—Lando said a quick goodbye as he fist bumped the men. When he got to Maia, he was dying to hug and kiss her, but for obvious reasons he opted for something simpler. 

He took one of her hands in his in an awkward move. But as they walked away, they both slowly let go, feeling every inch of each other's skin. 

Max, who had watched this interaction carefully, looked at Maia. 

—Everything is alright?—He asked her, to which she only responded with a nod of her head. 

They then walked around the paddock some more and went to their places before the race started. 

Maia's anxiety was at its peak as they were waiting for the lights to go out for the race to start. As soon as the race started, Lando quickly moved up to 2 positions. By lap 20 he was already in 10th place. In front of him was Max Verstappen, who wasn't having a good races lately like he usually does, so unfortunately on lap 30 he started slowing down little by little until he stopped his car at a side of the track. 

With a yellow flag as Verstappen's car was taken off the track, Lando took advantage of pitting to change his set of tyres. In front of him were 8 cars and he began to overtake them easily, receiving many compliments from the radio. 

When he overtook Carlos Sainz, he almost heard him in his head saying "qué cabrón". 

—Lando, you can do it kid, stay there.—He heard the radio ordering him. But that was not what really pushed him to go ahead and give his best. He remembered the words Maia had said to him a few hours ago. He remembered his face. He revived every inch of her skin that he hadn't seen in months but still remembered so adoringly. He remembered her voice and the softness of it of hers. 

Maia watched as Lando's car pushed against Lewis Hamilton's, fighting for first place. The next five laps were spent trading between first and second place. But in the last one Lando was leading. 

Everyone in the McLaren garage holding their breath as if that would make Lando win the race. 

—Come on Lando.— Maia whispered as she held her face in both hands. 

Lando saw Lewis behind, perilously close. But there was no need to worry anymore, he was the one who crossed the finish line first. He hadn't noticed until he saw how he passed the man in charge of moving the checkered flag. 

He had won the race.

—You are the champion of Monaco´s race, Lando! Congratulations, excellent work. P1 and P8 by Ricciardo. Good points for the team. 

Only screams of emotion began to come out of his mouth. He couldn't believe it. 

When parking the car in the predestined place for the champions, at his sides Hamilton and Leclerc. He got out of the car and outside the whole team received him with euphoria. 

He took off the uncomfortable helmet and received many hugs, friendly taps on the shoulder, congratulations from everyone. 

He searched her with his eyes. She was smiling at him from a part of the paddock, his countenance in the midst of all the euphoria. He walked briskly towards her as more and more congratulations from his friends and co-workers. 

They were alone in the place, as if everyone around them had suddenly fallen silent. He only cared about her and she only cared about him. Nothing more. 

When he got to her, he didn't have to say much. He took her face in both hands and kissed her. It was at that moment that he realized from her that he missed her lips more than he thought he did. 

She followed the kiss automatically by crossing her arms behind his head, and that was the signal that Lando needed to take her by the waist and lift her a few inches off the ground, without separating his lips of hers. 

When they separated, touching their foreheads still with their eyes closed, the sound in the background returned to his ears again. Even when Max and the others started harassing them, they didn't split up. 

Lando put her feet back on the ground and she hugged him, hiding her face in his chest. 

“Can I ask you a question, did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room, and every single one of your friends was making fun of you, but 15 seconds later they were clapping too? then what did you do?"

—I think I love you, Maia—he whispered into her ear loud enough for only her to hear amidst all the noise. 

Then she raised her head from his chest and looked into his eyes. She stroked the curls.

—I swear I'll do everything right this time. I will give you everything you deserve, what I never gave you. I promise you. 

And then she spoke.

—Hey, how about we start again? My name is Maia, are you Lando Norris from Mclaren?

[sortasirius]

What the Fuck Happened to the SPN Finale?

Okay so here it is, my Charlie Kelly style manifesto.

Before I get into it, I recognize that I will look like this to many of you, and that’s okay, I understand:

Secondly, your personal Takes about the writers don’t interest me, I don’t need to hear them. This, as I’ll explain, is going to remain a writer positive blog, and that’s the end of it.

Third, and most importantly: some of what I’m going to talk about is fact, and some is highly educated speculation. I will notate what is speculation, just so there’s no confusion or hot takes in my inbox that I’m a conspiracy theorist or stirring shit up for no reason.

A list of what I’ll be discussing

The episode in regards to the rest of the season

The episode issues: length, editing

Scene placement and speculation of scenes cut

The scrubbing of Jack, Cas, Eileen

Network involvement and general timeline of when things were cut

Misha: theories on where he was, official company line, why we can’t expect to hear anything directly

The silence of the cast post episode (in Misha’s case, mid episode) and what this might mean

Jensen speaking with Kripke about the ending: why it doesn’t mean what you might think (also why kripke remained positive on the ending)

Walker, and why this episode had a major shift

Why the network would do this or get involved

Why the writers of the show simply aren’t the bad guys here, and what I “want” out of this post, since I know it’ll get asked

This is very long and under a cut, but I hope you’ll give it a read.

The Episode In Regards to the Rest of the Season

So, I’ve discussed this already here, but it’s the most obvious thing to me, and that’s the way this episode simply doesn’t fit with the rest of the season.

These people in this room have, truly, been nothing but consistent when it comes to their arcs, especially this season, and the marked dropoff in quality for the finale episode is just too sus to discount to me.  Dabb’s whole focus has been character-based.  In his seasons, we’ve moved far away from MOTW and bro-codependency, the found family taking it’s place.  Does it really sit right to anyone that that was all thrown away in literally the last episode of the entire show?

This is speculation on my part, but as a writer myself, there is no way I would be happy or willing to stamp my name on something that I didn’t think would, at the very least, wrap up the season+ character arcs that I and my team had been crafting.

And before anyone comes in here saying, “well GOT did that!”  Bruh.  The writing was on the wall for GOT long before the final episode.  You could tell that the showrunners just wanted to be done (not only from the plot, but from the fact that they lobbied for a shorter season).  Miss me with that, it doesn’t apply here.  Andrew has, besides Singer and J2, been with the show longer than anyone.  He cares, he is meticulous and detailed, and this ending feels worse than anything Bucklemming has ever written, let alone Dabb.

Additionally, I’ve seen a lot of people say that Dabb was never behind Destiel, that it was all Bobo and Meredith and no one else.  That is reductive to the point of insult of the work Dabb has done to get this greenlit.  This man did not write the s13 Dean grief arc to be slandered like this.  That being said, YES, Bobo and Meredith were the leads on the DeanCas arc this season, but ANDREW IS THE SHOWRUNNER, TO GET EVEN THE CONFESSION APPROVED BY THE NETWORK HE WOULD HAVE TO HAVE THEIR BACKS.  AND HE DID.

Finale Issues

So, now that we’ve gotten the fact that this episode doesn’t hit on any of the major themes the show was barrelling towards all season, let’s discuss the fact that the episode is just...weird.

Not only is it shorter than any other episode (I think with the intro and the credits/crew thing at the end, it was around 38 mins), but it was also...idk, 90% filler?

One of the lovely humans in the POLOL server did the legwork here, and broke it down:

This is weird, y’all.  Most series finales are LONGER than normal (Lost, SOA, Longmire are the ones I can think of off the top of my head), and for the final episode to be this?  I saw more than one person point out that we only really needed 19 episodes, what was the point of 20?  AND THAT’S EXACTLY IT?  WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THIS FINAL EPISODE IF THIS WAS ALL WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GET?

It simply doesn’t make any sense, the first half of the episode was rushed, a final monster hunt gone wrong, but in the second half?  Nothing really happened?  Sam lived his entire life and Dean just drove around.  It doesn’t make sense to have all the emotional arcs left unaddressed in an episode that definitely needed some kind of spark.

Here’s the speculation I have: the episode seemingly went through a lot of changes between the initial inception of the final season and when we actually got it, but I think it would have been passable (as in, we wouldn’t be sitting here asking each other why each arc feels incomplete) until the editing room got ahold of it.  The only think that makes this episode make sense is network fuckery.  Truly, that is the only thing.  It explains the weird, cuts, the rushed pacing of the first half followed by nothing in the second half, the double montages of “Wayward Son” back to back, and Dean just...driving around for the last half of the episode.

Scene Placement and Speculation of Scenes Cut

Before I get into this section, the info of the shots in the episode I have come from a source that @occamshipper​ got a week or so before the finale.  She’s talked about this here.

So here’s what Min was given:

1-5: 1 INT MEN OF LETTERS – DEAN’S ROOM Dean is greeted by Miracle

6-10: 6 INT MEN OF LETTERS – HALLWAY/SAM’S ROOM Sam has his routine

D1 1 11-15: 15 EXT FARM HOUSE Establishing

N1 1/8 16-20: 19 Dad’s journal, marker, drawing of masked man in journal.

21-25: 23 INT IMPALA – PMP Driver picks the music

N2 1 3/8 1,2 26-30: 28pt2 INT BARN: A face from the past

28pt3 Sam and Dean say goodbye

28pt4 Shot early for technical reasons, presumably the overhead shot

N2 31-45: 41 INT MEN OF LETTERS – SAM’S ROOM Sam’s alarm goes off D4 1/8 1 46-60: 56 INT N7glasses for Sam, laptop.

So...it all fits right?  It all tracks with the actual episode, where it lands, etc.  The issue is between shots 29-40 which were apparently “too big to spoil.”  Uh.  Where are they?  And where’s 28 pt4?

After Dean dies, the next scene is Sam burning him, then shot 31, the shot of his alarm going off.

So.  Where are those 11ish shots?

PLUS we have the boards, which are scenes we KNOW were actually shot:

As well as scenes for 20 that were shot in 19.

It’s just...weird, it’s weird and again hits on the fact that the episode is so short and like 80% montage.

The Scrubbing of Jack, Cas, and Eileen

So now we have to reckon with the fact that Eileen was last mentioned by Sam after she got snapped by Chuck, Jack’s last mention is that he’s off being God somewhere, and Cas’ last mention is a ~knowing look~ between Dean and Bobby.

I’m sorry, make it make sense:

????????  That’s the end if it?  They don’t need to be discussed after this???  It’s just simply not something a writer would do, they would not introduce these characters, these arcs, without thinking there’s going to be some kind of follow through here.

So not only were three major characters (including two leads and both of the original characters’ love interests) completely wiped from the finale episode, it was as though Sam and Dean never even needed them, which just...ain’t it.

So why Eileen and Jack too?  Why not just take Cas out of it if they were afraid of the gay?  Because, ultimately, the episode went back to Kripke’s original story: just the bros, they only need each other and no one else.  They don’t want anyone else, they don’t need anyone else.  Easier to go back to something they knew was successful than trust the writers and their audience and take a big leap.

Alex even said he shot for 20 with “some of the guys” here.  What happened to that footage?

The complete 180 of it all still shocks me, I still cannot believe that we were essentially at the finish line, and the network just stopped short, and decided to go run another race, at the expense of the arc of this fifteen year legacy show.

Network Involvement and When Things Were Cut

Okay, now into the juicy stuff.

So I’ve pretty well established that network fuckery is clear, but how much did they get involved, what was the original intent?

Well again, we may never actually know what Andrew’s original script was, but I think, at the least, it would involve Dean speaking his truth to Cas and Sam living a life with Eileen.

Now, it seems today, that Misha said that Jimmy Novak was supposed to be in the finale in one iteration of the script, and while initially my brain was like “that truly makes no sense and he’s either straight up lying or telling a half truth,” I think what may be happening is Misha talking about as much as he can right now.

So Jimmy right.  Weird as fuck.  Why would he been in the Roadhouse and not Cas?  My current thought (this is about as reachy as I’ll get) is that Jimmy had no lines, could he have been in the Roadhouse as a red herring, like it said “Jimmy” in the script but it was just Cas in human clothes, a way to get around the network saying Cas couldn’t be in the final scene.  Also, you’ll notice that Misha didn’t say that Cas wasn’t supposed to be in the ep at all, just Jimmy in the last scene.

All this to say, there have clearly been multiple versions of the script, getting lighter and lighter with Cas and Eileen as the network pulled further and further back.  Remember, Dabb has to get things approved before they get shot, and if the network kept asking and asking and asking to cut Cas and Eileen, he had to find a way to work around it.  Granted, I still think that if we had been able to get a Dabb script that wasn’t torn to shreds in editing, it wouldn’t be so bad.  It may not be what a lot of us wanted (Dean speaking his truth to Cas and a reciprocation), but doing everything he could to give it to us in subtext or visual clues.

Plus, in all honesty, my man can’t keep his story straight anyway.  He said twice in his panel that the Empty and offscreen Heaven ending weren’t his original ending either.

In addition, remember that Jensen did ADR post episode 18, AND said in a meet and greet last weekend that Dean’s reaction to Cas’ confession was “cut down.” (Source here).  Many of us clowns got excited when we first heard about ADR, because we thought it would be upping the ante on Dean’s reaction, but I remember being a little sus when it was just crying.  My speculation on that is that they cut out Dean actually SAYING something, @winchestersingerautorepair​ spoke about that here.

The biggest sins were, in my opinion, committed during editing, where the network got too gun shy and sliced the episode until it was nothing but a heartless bro-fest of a finale, not mentioning anything about the other major characters that we all love, and letting the boys just suffer in separation until Sam died and finally joined Dean in Heaven.  The editing came by cutting all the major emotional beats between anyone other than Dean and Sam, leaving the skeleton of the story intact, just shorter and less...poignant than it was ever supposed to be.

Misha

We know Misha was in Vancouver, we know he quarantined, but we also know he wasn’t in the final scene, when he spoke about being in the last moment of the show months ago.  We were not crazy, he was there, he quarantined, and, in all likelihood (speculation but fitting with the timeline), he actually may have shot something (not much, but something).

I have sources here, here, here, and here showing where Misha was at that time.

Remember, the man was completely open about coming back until they finished shooting (look at this thread).  The switch happened, just like everything else, halfway through them shooting.

Please also remember Jake Abel posting his “Where’s Misha” video here.  Jake isn’t malicious, he isn’t being nasty here.  Misha was there, and everyone that’s trying to convince people he’s wasn’t just...isn’t telling the truth about it.

This is one of the things that makes me really mad, because they’re literally attempting to gaslight people into thinking, “oh we were totally wrong he was never supposed to be there” WHEN HE WAS THERE, WE KNOW HE WAS THERE.

So we’ve already heard from several people (Meghan Fitzmartin, Jay, a PA on the set of 19 (WHO WAS NOT WORKING FOR 20), Misha himself) that this was all down to Covid restrictions.  Ultimately, as this post says, we’ve heard FIVE versions of where Misha was.  None of it makes sense, but the Covid protocol seems to be the company line that others are repeating.

You may ask: why?  Why lie to all of us when we have questions?  Why, in Jay’s case, say that we’re all spreading false lies to stir up trouble, when we just have questions and things that do not make sense.  Simply?  Warner Brothers is absolutely massive.  These people have their careers to protect and are likely all under NDAs.  They want to work for WB again and don’t want to burn bridges, including Misha.  It sucks, but that’s why it’s unlikely that we’ll hear someone come out and say, “yeah we’re lying to you.”

Silence of the Cast Post Episode

So this is...probably the worst part of all this, at least in my opinion.

The guys had all been pretty excited about the end of the show (especially Jared, but Jensen’s panel last week was Jensen as happy and jokey and positive as I’ve ever seen him.  He was so excited about episode 18, about what it meant for Dean and for Cas, and I just cannot buy that he would have been that excited unless he thought there was something more in the episode.

Misha live-tweeted the episode, and was watching it with his kids.  It’s well known that Misha and the kids don’t watch the show because it’s too scary, and let’s ask ourselves, why would he have them watch an episode that he’s barely even mentioned in?

He also stopped live-tweeting at a very specific point in the episode (Dean’s death) and has not mentioned Supernatural since then. 

None of them, not Jared, Jensen, Misha, or even Alex, said anything about the episode for nearly 36 hours, when Jensen posted a salty photo on instagram.  It’s just...not what you’d expect for the end of a 15 year show, when the cast and crew are so close to the fans, so close to each other. 

My theory?  They didn’t know.  They thought Misha was, at least, going to be in the episode in some way, and when he wasn’t, they decided not to say anything.

You really think that Jensen “Heller” Ackles would have been so excited about the end of the show last week if he thought Cas wasn’t going to be in it at all?  Nah son, doesn’t make any sense.

Even today, in Jared and Misha’s panels, they seemed sad and...more than a little careful, both saying that there were things they couldn’t say, both talking around things that we all have questions on.

Jensen Speaking with Kripke

So this is where a lot of people are getting fodder to take shots at the writers, saying that Jensen hated it from the beginning, but I don’t think so.  I actually think I know what Jensen went to him about, and it wasn’t the lack of Cas or the weird pacing or the montages (which I don’t think were there when Jensen got the script); I think it was the manner of Dean’s death.

I know a lot of people were upset about that, upset with how...normal it was, coming off an episode where they literally beat God.  I actually didn’t mind it, I thought it was an interesting thematic take to be like: you can be a hero all your life, but sometimes shit happens, and you just die.

But imagine how hard that was for Jensen to read.  He would run to Kripke for that, because for him, Dean dying by being impaled by a piece of rebar had to be tough to swallow.

So, why didn’t Kripke say that?  Why didn’t he say, “oh well he had a problem with Dean’s death, none of that other stuff was in the script.”

Guys.  Why would he get involved?  He’s not going to burn bridges any more than anyone else is.  He said the ending was good because it’s the easy thing to do, it’s simple, will cause him no problems in his career, and he can just ignore the people trying to engage with him on it.

Walker

Something else to talk about is the major shift this episode had from the rest of the season: the shift from Dean to Sam.  I am NOT saying that Sam isn’t important, he definitely, absolutely is, but it was DEAN who really needed to wrap up his arc, Sam just needed to move on, get married to Eileen, become the leader he was always meant to.  So what changed?  What was with the shirtless scene, the Austin number and random case there, most of the episode being heavily Sam focused, going through his entire life in a montage?

Anyone else notice the 375 Walker promos, or Jared’s little spiel about Walker and how he hoped SPN fans would “come along for the ride.”

It’s...kinda obvious?  CW wanted to appeal to who they think the key demographic of SPN and Walker is: rural areas in the South.  It would explain a lot, why so much editing, why so Sam focused, the Austin number, the number of Walker promos, all of it.

I’m not saying this is fact, I don’t know that it is, but it is a little suspicious that even in Jared’s panel today, he talked A LOT about Walker and how he hopes SPN fans will watch it.

Why Would the Network Get Involved?

Simply put: $$$

If they think Walker can be the new SPN, and that those crazy SPN fans liked it originally, it’s a lot safer to go with the “original intent” of the show than do something risky (like making one of your two original leads queer).

And?  They don’t care.  They don’t care that the episode didn’t make sense, they don’t care that all the emotional arcs were left hanging, they don’t care by (potentially) smashing together two of Dean’s monologues (one to Sam, one to Cas) that it came of as...gross. ( @curioussubjects​ wrote a beautiful post showing how part of that death speech was likely meant for Dean here).  They don’t care, they never have, they just want to make their money and move on from the too-loud fandom that fought for representation too hard for too long.

It can’t help but feel insidious, which, honestly, it might be, but it really all comes down to the next cash cow, which, they think, is Walker, even at the cost of the fifteen year legacy show.

The Writers and What I Want

So here it is, all this weird, sus shit laid out on the line.  And you know what?  To me, there is no way to blame the writers, because they didn’t want this.

I don’t think Dabb and Bobo would have gone ahead with the confession in 18 without thinking that there would be some closure to that arc, they wouldn’t have done that not only to the fans, but for the sake of their own story as well: no writer wants to start something that they can’t finish. (And this applies to both Cas and Eileen).

Here’s a basic rundown of what I think happened: they had a clear arc from 18-20, ending in reciprocation at some level from Dean, Sam marrying Eileen, Hunter Sam as the new Bobby, Dean in heaven with Cas and big roadhouse reunion at the end. Covid prevented a good amount of that. Network had to stare at big gay 18 for six months, got cold feet. Thought about Walker, target audience and alienation of the rural areas if it went full gay. Misha quarantined and likely shot something (not much), he was then cut by execs and went home. They likely added in lines referencing Eileen and Cas to make it clear but more subtextual. They wrap, editing gets it and hacks it to pieces, so we get a shorter episode that’s mostly montages and jarringly bro-centric with nothing else. Arcs are left hanging. Dabb gets episode but it’s too late, there’s nothing he can do. Actors aren’t told so they can continue to do positive PR for the ending, they all found out at the same time we did: hence almost complete silence about the finale.

And you know what?  They warned us.  I talked about it here, but they’ve been telling us all season that Chuck wasn’t the writer, he’s the network.  I don’t think, still, that they thought it would be cut up like this, into something so unsalvageable that it’s been panned by almost everyone, even people who didn’t care much about Dean and Cas.

Finally, a masterpiece can be ruined by editing, and while I’m not sure even the script they ended up shooting on was a masterpiece (due to the network meddling already), but to me it’s blatantly obvious that it’s no one but the network that caused this, that took away closure for Dean, Cas, and even Sam.

So what do I want?  Nothing really, there’s nothing we can do, but I wrote this mostly to show people that the writers are not your enemy.   In fact, to the people trashing them?  You’re doing exactly what the CW wants you to: blame the obvious targets, blame Misha, blame Jensen and Jared, blame Dabb.  Scream and yell at them on Twitter and about how the show is ruined because of them.  The network keeps their engagement levels high, they don’t get as targeted for their behavior, and just keep moving along.

Just, please, think about who did this,  Mourn the show, be angry, but not at the people who fought tooth and nail for this for literal years, not the people who wanted it more than we did, not the people who cannot say anything because of their careers and the NDAs they’re bound by.

Someone is going to spill eventually, but until then, we just have to wait, and continue to be loud.

[kashimos-hajime]

homestretch of the hard times | g.t.

summary: the eve days of your potential death kinda spurns things to move forward: for takemura, it means confessions. for you, it means making exceptions. and drinks. ‘cause takemura’s the pickiest fucking eater you’ve ever met.

WARNINGS: small spoilers for act 1 of cyberpunk 2077 and references to non-spoiler texts between takemura and v, just fluff, small angst, swearing, idk what else is going on so if there are actual spoilers thats completely coincedental ndlnskfsldnf pairing: goro takemura x fem!street-kid!v word count: 2.6k

a/n: so cdpr did us dirty for not allowing us to romance him (to my knowledge) but he has my mind, heart and everything else so :) listened to the bones by maren morris w/ hozier

part of the tales of a two-bit thief series

It starts with something straight out of a romance movie: A car crash, saving each other’s lives (well, him more than you) and “Wait, V, I need you.”

You don’t know how you got here, to be precise. There were a chain of events, some absolutely stand up fucking moments on your part, and just… fuckery. So much fuckery and life went to shit.

All you know is the ticking time bomb’s only ticking louder and at this point, the only thing that can silence it at all is the man beside you. Not even the meds Misty gave you can help you now. 

You’re sitting in his car because you called him and he had answered and now… now they’re on one of the off ramps looking over Night City like they own the fucking place.

Maybe you did, once. Ha, maybe back when everything seemed more job to job and not life to life. For a moment, maybe you were in the big leagues.

Takemura doesn’t say anything, even though you can tell he wants to. His hair still pulled into that man bun, collared shirt with not a single wrinkle in sight. Weird how he never looks out of place, not really. Not even with the car crash. Shit, he always looked good.

You think you’re actually gonna miss that. That one semblance of someone being put together that gave you the hope that maybe you could stick it too.

You think you’re gonna miss a lot of things about him—from his stupid complaints about the food here, to his stupid random philosophy texts in the day, to the fact that he eats the ramen you buy anyway without complaint, even though it’ll never compare to what he has in Japan.

The thought that counts.

They don’t even have the radio on, just the dim lights of the car, a window rolled down. You don’t smoke but you feel like you should be tapping a cig either way. You haven’t had the time to just fucking breathe—not with Silverhand breathing down your neck, corpo rats swarming you on all sides. 

Everyone wants a piece of you, it feels like. 

You look at Takemura.

Almost everyone.

“Thank you,” you tell him quietly, with difficulty. It’s hard to get through your words without thinking Silverhand’s behind your back, mocking you. You’re so fucking tired. “It hasn’t been easy.”

He doesn’t respond. He’s too busy looking at one of the cars nearly collide with a pedestrian. You could’ve laughed. You used to make fun of the shitty drivers in Night City, knowing full well you’re one of them.

You get chased by a couple of cops, rules start to bend.

You used to wonder why you never left.

Then, you actually left, and you realized that hell, you can take the person out of Night City—can’t take the Night City out of a person.

Atlanta fucking sucked, but maybe you should’ve stayed there.

But then, a tiny voice whispers as you look out the window to the fresh night wind. You never would’ve met him.

It’s funny, you think. To come back and get a brain tumour in the shape of a rocker who can’t fucking touch anyone who loves him, who he loved, only for you to fall in love with a corpo you can’t fucking touch at all because… because there is no time left. It just isn’t fair.

“I used to be a corpo kid,” you confess, looking at him with a wry smile again. That catches his attention. He looks at you with those eyes that scrutinize you, interrogate you, peel you apart to your bare essentials and you have to look away before you can’t control your face anymore. God fucking damn it. “Not when it mattered, obviously, but… I remember what it was like. Grew up hating every single on of them.”

“Your parents were Arasaka?”

“Mhm. Security division.” It’s like your eyes are magnetic to his because when you blink, you find yourself regarding him again. Your fingers play at your lips. “Counterintelligence. I was supposed to go into that, too. Big dreams.” 

“I see.”

“Yeah, then my parents were tried for treason and murdered, so I got thrown out. That’s it.” Your hand falls away. You pick at the chipped nail polish on your thumb. “Never told anyone that. ‘Cept…” Jackie. Well, he’s fucking dead, now. “‘Cept you, now, I guess. Guess some corpos aren’t so bad.”

The corner of his mouth pinches up like he’s flattered and you can’t help the pleased warmth spreading through your chest. 

“Should I be honoured I am one of the few exceptions you have made?”

“Well, I don’t make exceptions often, so…” You grin slyly. He looks away just as you catch a flash of his smile growing. It’s a nice smile. You wish you saw it more often before the end of the road. Maybe it’s one of the regrets you have, too. “Yeah, maybe you should feel special.”

“Hm.”

“C’mon, Takemura. Humour the walking dead, yeah?” You stretch against the leather of his car seat with a pleased sound. “I’m spending what time I have left with who I want to. Can’t ask for much better than that.” A quiet hangs in the air as you melt against the black leather and you look at Takemura who’s staring at the wheel with an intensity you don’t often see. It makes your gut squirm. 

“And I? I am one of those people?”

You lean on one hip and look at him, bending a knee and resting an ankle on your thigh. He looks at you with an uncertainty—an uncertainty you’re sure echoes in your eyes.

It was business, then it wasn’t. Maybe it never was.

“Yeah. You’re one of the few on the short list.”

“Exceptions again.”

You laugh. “Yeah. You’re an exception to most things, I think. Weird, that.”

“How so?”

“Ah, I don’t know. I’ve had family—still do, ones that matter, you know. Just… no one ever like you, Takemura. Drives me crazy.”

“The feeling is mutual. Your mocking brings you onto thin ice, V.” His fingers tap against the steering wheel. The engine’s off so it seems more fidgety than anything. Weird. You never noticed he fidgeted before. Maybe he’s nervous?

About what?

“I must ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“If you have a future, what do you see for yourself?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. You frown and pick at your flecking nail polish even more, looking at your hand and focusing more on that so you don’t have to answer your question. His eyes burn into you and you swallow, trying not to act like you haven’t thought, in regret, at night, about a hundred million fucking times the possibilities they could’ve had together.

You’re not about to say all that.

Instead: “Settling down with the family. Mama Welles, people at the Coyote.” You blatantly don’t look at him when you add, “Others. This has been enough action for a lifetime.” You rest your hands on your lap and chance a glimpse at him. He’s looking away from you, out the window on his side, and you shift in your seat. “How about you? You must’ve… had dreams. Before all this shit went down. You make it out of here and then what?”

When he looks at you, your heart nearly cracks at the sadness in his eyes. He smiles, but there is no strength, and his eyes are darker than the night surrounding them.

“I would go to the countryside, just as I’ve always wanted. Leave this, all of this, behind. Rural Japan is beautiful, so a small town would suffice where everyone knows everyone. We do favours for one another. It is community. Nothing like here.” His lips pull into a tiny frown. “When I was a younger man, I wanted a daughter,” is all he says. “I believe I could have been a great father, so perhaps… perhaps one day.”

“A daughter? Not a son?” you ask curiously, and he almost chuckles. You can’t help the faint smile on your face. 

“If my daughter grew up anything like her mother,” he explains with a slight glance towards you, “I would have more hope than a son who was like me.”

You frown.  “You’re not a bad man, Takemura. Any son like you—with your code of honour, your shitty selfie skills—no one’s gotta a chance.”

He merely scoffs in response. Again, with the you mocking him. It’s a wonder he lets you.

“But really, that sounds… nice. A daughter, a wife.” You drum your fingers against your knee and his eyes dart to yours, click like they were always destined to meet, and your lips part. Words stall on your tongue and you want to speak but in the dim lights, you are lost in the darkness of his eyes. Something comes, something goes, and you barely croak out, “Whoever marries you will have to deal with so much of your shit that the kids have to turn out alright. The complaining, for one. Picky eater for another.”

This time, he does chuckle and you swallow a breath at the sound. “Dealing with it comes with practice, V.”

“Is that so?”

“Shouldn’t you know?”

“I—“ For once, no funny retort, no witty quip shoots out of your mouth, and you realize that there is an implication—an intricate dance where they’re struggling not to step on each other’s toes and nearly failing at every turn, yet somehow, it works because they’re dancing, and it’s quiet, and it’s… it’s peaceful.

Shit, you’re getting a load of this. When’d you become a poet?

“I guess I should know,” you finally say. “Never understood why I got so giddy whenever I saw your texts, you know, seein’ your name flash on my phone.” You laugh bitterly. “Guess I know why, now.” He’s silent and you don’t look at him. You look at the dashboard where you’ve kicked your feet up a dozen times, the glove compartment that still has your sunglasses inside.

Shit.

“Thank you for everything. Shit’s a little… more bearable, I guess. When you’re around, that is.” The words come out stilted, awkward, but your heart is so heavy in your throat you feel like you’re going to choke. You look into your lap, your whole body incinerating under what you’re sure is the most judgemental glare of your life and you just hope to fucking God this man says something, does something.

Holy shit. You’re going to die of embarrassment. Didn’t even think that was possible.

Then, a loud sigh. A sigh you’ve heard often enough beside you right before a gunfight or when he has to eat the food you ordered for him or even the nights when they’re exhausted, bruised, and just plain tired right before going to sleep where they lay on the floor.

It’s exasperated, a how on earth did we get here, a very annoyed again, you’re so fucking stupid, and you’re still running through your list on what this particular sigh can mean before a hand gently takes hold of yours. Your eyes dart to his, blinking and he stares at you like you’ve just stabbed him. Your heart is fucking racing in your chest, pounding like thunder. His fingers fold over and you realize, as you interlace fingers, that his skin is burning at your touch. 

Or maybe, it’s the other way around.

They sit there in silence, not looking at one another, looking out windows, parts of the car, everything but each other, and when he squeezes your hand, you close your eyes and swallow your heart.

It’s over.

“V,” he murmurs, voice so deathly quiet and raspy in your ears that your gut clenches. You turn to watch him. “Tell me that you will not stop fighting.” You swallow your breath as his eyes flicker from your own to your parted lips. He inhales quietly and you swear you can feel his heartbeat pulsing in his fingers in your grip. “That this is not all for nothing.”

“It isn’t.“

“Then I was right.” His eyes flutter back to your gaze and he tilts his head. Wisps of fine hair escaping his manbun brush over his nose and you reach up on your own accord, swiping it behind your ear. You lean over the console, your elbow digging into the leather and, tentatively, you trail your fingers down his jaw, hold his face in your hand. “I am… what is that phrase you use so often?”

“SNAFU?”

“No.”

“Assblasted.”

“No.”

“Royally fucked?”

“We need to expand your vocabulary.” You smile nefariously as his other hand reaches for your chin. He pinches it lightly, thumb stretching up to brush over your lips and your face freezes at his touch. “But yes. Royally fucked. I wasn’t wrong when I said I needed you.”

“I think that meant a whole something else back then,” you whisper rawly and he smiles sombrely. His thumb leaves your mouth to brush your cheek, his eyes fixing on you as if he’s trying to memorize aspects of your face: the arch of your nose, the bow of your smile, the way your brow wrinkles. “Meant more business-like.”

“I did. And now, I believe the terms have changed.” He arches an eyebrow. “Are we at a mutual understanding, V?”

“Yes.” And I hate that we are. Your hand along his jaw lifts to wrap around his wrist. “Consider that feeling mutual, yeah? It goes both ways.”

“I will.” Another small smile graces his lips. It makes him look younger every time and you rub your thumb over the back of his hand. 

“Do you wanna grab something to eat before you drive me back home for some shuteye?”

“The choices here are atrocious, V.”

“Then, drinks,” you propose, letting go of his wrist. He lets go of your chin, and turning to face the front, you kick up your feet on his dash. He stares at you for a moment then sighs because there really isn’t anything he can do about it. Nor, do you think, he wants to. You squeeze his hand and send him a silly smile. “How about drinks? I wasn’t hungry anyway.”

“Are you paying?”

You eye him incredulously. “Who do you take me for? You?”

He snorts and the engine roars to life with a flick of his wrist. He grabs the wheel dominantly and you swallow at the way his fingers wrap around the handle. “The Afterlife, then?”

“Or, we could make it rustic.” You pull his hand into your lap playfully and run a thumb over his knuckles. His eyes flit over and you send him a smirk. “I know Mama Welles doesn’t like you, but the Coyote’s serving cheap. Happen to like me there.” He begins to pull out of their little overhang and he nudges their joined hands into your abdomen, silently telling you to buckle in. Rolling your eyes, you mumble out a ‘boomer’ underneath your breath before letting go of him and following orders.

He settles a hand on your thigh and squeezes. You hang an arm out the window. 

The wind’s running through the car, he has the radio on low, and they’re easing through onto the highway.

Your chest is lighter than a feather, mind’s quieter than a ghost.

You’ve seen scarier deaths, dealt a lot more. You know that silence is a bigger killer than most bullets.

But here you are now…

“I’m changing this,” Takemura says. “This music is terrible.”

…Shit, maybe life isn’t so bad, ending the way it is.

[lavenderbexlatte]

play you on repeat

stray kids  11.8k words female reader insert FemDom!Reader x Sub!3RACHA EXPLICIT/NSFW

🖤 warnings: unprotected sex, degradation 🖤

Series Masterlist (Parts 1-7)

connect with me! / masterlist

The three of them follow you all the way to the front door in a line like little ducklings, eager-eyed and silent as you part the crowds of students and friends on your way outside.

You only see those eager eyes when you turn around on the front porch of the random house that's throwing this party. Changbin stands just behind you, Jisung after him and Chan bringing up the rear.

They really want more, then. Their instant agreement kind of surprises you; it's one thing to flirt or make out with someone at a party, but it's another thing entirely to invite random classmates home for an orgy. But you're not crazy or stupid enough to let the chance pass you by. You're all in.

"Okay, boys," you say, "Where are we doing this?"

"Me and 'Bin live together," says Chan quickly.

You regard him coolly. "Just you two?"

"Just us," he nods.

That's promising. You live independently but you have roommates, and while you're sure you could sneak one hookup into your room, three of them might turn some heads. Your roommates are patient, but not that patient.

So you smile at them. "Okay. I trust you three aren’t gonna try any dirty tricks on me?"

"Dirty tricks?" Changbin repeats.

You shrug. "Stealing my wallet. Selling me into indentured servitude. Harvesting my organs. The usual nightmare date stuff."

"Why would we do that?" Jisung asks, looking amused but also concerned.

Is he worried that you don't trust them? That's kind of cute.

You just smile wider. "We don't know each other very well, I’m a woman and you’re three men. You guys might be dangerous."

It’s obvious that you’re teasing them. You can't help but laugh a little, saying it, since you’ve actually been alone with the three of them before, for your school project some weeks ago. Besides, the most unpredictable and potentially dangerous person here is you. That's already been proven. The three of them seem just as amused as you, though, so you've succeeded in breaking any tension that was gathering.

"Did you guys drive here?" you ask.

"No," says Jisung.

"Neither did I," you say, “I was planning on getting drunk.”

"No worries. Called a cab already," says Chan.

His cocky attitude is back as he waves his phone in your direction, the screen showing a little animated car tracing its way to your location. When did he order a ride? More importantly, at what point did he assume you were gonna wanna go back to his place? He's right, of course, and you do want to, but come on.

"Presumptuous," you tease.

He shrugs. "Well, 'Sung has roommates, and I figured you wouldn't want three near strangers at your place."

The flash of his eyes lets you know that he’s feeling quite high and mighty for having made up your mind for you. Oh, you're going to have to break this attitude ASAP.

You set about thinking of exactly how to do that as you meander toward the road to wait for the car, trusting that someone will tell you when it arrives. You stand on the sidewalk in the dim circle of light cast by a streetlamp. Chan wants more, right?

So do you. Three boys...three boys who are all partners, it seems. There's gonna be some finagling tonight, some organization needed. You ponder exactly what you want from them. The options are endless, truly. This is going to be very, very good.

When the car pulls up, Changbin comes over and slings his arm around your waist, like he's the one taking you home and not the other way around (figuratively, at least). You look at him, amused, relishing how you can almost meet his eye with the small difference between his height and yours.

"What's this?" you ask, gesturing at his arm around you.

"I'm being gentlemanly," he pouts, bottom lip pushed out exaggeratedly, "Don't kill the vibe."

He's being silly, you realize. That firm confidence from before is gone, replaced by what seems to be an eager desire for you to like him. He's in luck, then. You already like him.

You climb into the back seat of the small black sedan, scooting all the way over to the far window seat. Chan follows right behind you, settling in the middle with Jisung after him. Changbin is up front with the driver. You can tell that the boys would rather have you in the middle seat by the way that Chan and Jisung are playfully glaring at each other, but you much prefer to have your own space by the window. Nobody likes the middle seat.

The boys busy themselves with their phones on the ride, but you just watch the boys instead. You can tell that they know you're watching. Jisung meets your eye once and looks away quickly, grinning, and Changbin is just barely resisting turning all the way around to look at you head-on. You think you know what you want to do with those two, since they're pretty communicative and easy to read, so you study the real predicament.

Chan.

He's got pretty hands, you notice, as he taps away at his phone. He also has one of those dorky leather phone cases with wallet pockets. You just can't get into those; young people use them a lot, now, but you always associate them with dads and teachers and stuff. Old people. Chan's is full of cards, his student ID and a credit card and others. You peer closer at his driver's license with its tiny picture of him. His curly hair is blonde in the photo, which is cute.

You notice something else, too - his birthdate. Chan is in your year in school, but you never knew...

"Are you...are you younger than me?" you ask him, delighted.

He blinks at you. "How old are you?"

You tell him - a year or so older than him. It's not much, but definitely something in a society that puts so much emphasis on age. It also puts you at the oldest in this group by a bit of a margin, considering Changbin is a couple years younger than Chan and Jisung is younger still.

"That makes me the noona tonight," you tease.

Chan gives you an alarmed side-eye, his pale cheeks blushing furiously and his pupils blown big. He's into the noona thing, too? You wonder exactly how many little one-ups you're going to have on him tonight.

So you're the oldest. Hm. You grin to yourself. So they thought they were bagging a shy, quiet submissive, and instead they got you.

The ride to their place is short, and you're surprised when the cab pulls up in front of a small one-story house instead of an apartment building. Not many students around here have homes, since housing prices in the city are predictably sky-high and out of the average student budget. The boys get out of the car right away, thanking the driver, but you take your time. You study the house, the cars in the driveway (two of them, one silver sedan, one black mid-size SUV) and the neat front garden.

"A house," you say mildly.

Changbin looks embarrassed for the first time that night, as he stutters, "My family - I'm - we have-"

"Fucking PILES of money," Chan finishes for him, grinning, "I pay him rent, can you believe it?"

"I didn't want him to pay anything but he insisted," Changbin says.

"I'm not a freeloader," Chan insists.

"You think I'm gonna make my own boyfriend pay rent when I could buy him his own house?" Changbin grumbles, heading up the front walk.

Jisung has already let himself into the house uninterested in the conversation. He doesn't live there, you remember, but obviously he's no stranger. You follow Changbin inside, vaguely aware of Chan coming after you. It's a cute house, you admit to yourself, as you step in the door and kick off your shoes.

It does look like a house where a bunch of boys live, though. An artists' den. There's music equipment strewn all over the small living room; Bluetooth speakers, a midi board, a full-size electric keyboard, a drum pad. Propped on a small table in the corner is a silver slab that you realize is a YouTube subscriber award plaque, and there’s a Soundcloud affiliate certificate next to it.

"The rumors about you guys are true, then," you say, mostly to yourself, not even thinking.

Changbin looks at you, confused. So does Jisung. Chan just smiles lopsidedly.

"What rumors?" Jisung asks.

"Oh." You can feel your face heating up. "Just that you guys are...musicians."

You were actually thinking about their minor celebrity status, their Soundcloud rapper status, but you don't know if that will come across as...like...offensive? Is it rude to call people Soundcloud rappers, since that’s kind of become an insult? They're obviously even more well-known than you thought, if the 100k subs plaque is anything to go off. Not just campus royalty, but actually somewhat famous. It’s bizarre.

"Musicians," Chan repeats, amused.

You kind of hate the expression on his face. He's still holding onto that weird confident charm from the party, the face that you assume he puts on in these situations to pretend he's not one good hair-pull away from whining and begging.

"You can't pretend that you don't know," you say, more aggressively than you mean to, "On campus, with everyone from school…you guys are super...popular."

It sounds so stupid to say, like you're the ugly duckling in a bad teen movie. 'You can’t like meeeee, you're soooo cool and popular!'

"Are we?" Jisung asks, looking genuinely surprised.

Oh my God. You want to facepalm. You want to grab one of them and shake them.

"You literally tried to seduce me in there," you point out, "Would that have worked if you weren't popular? That's something popular people do. Use their, like, social standing to get people to sleep with them."

"That would make us pretty shitty people," Chan says delicately. "Imbalance of power and all that."

Oh. You didn't mean to accuse them of anything. You open your mouth to apologize, feeling incredibly out of place, but Jisung interrupts you, completely unbothered.

"It's only worked once before, anyway," he says.

"...Picking someone up?" you ask.

Changbin nods, "And that only worked because Felix already had a crush on me and Chan. We just had to sell him on Jisung."

"Hey!" Jisung pouts.

Chan pets his hair placatingly, and Jisung shrugs him off in favor of heading for the kitchen, mumbling about being a fucking catch. But you’re focusing on a different bit of what Changbin told you.

"You guys fucked Felix Lee?" you ask, incredulous.

“Maybe a month ago, yeah,” Changbin says.

The cute, freckled face of dance team captain Felix Lee swims in your mind for a moment, followed by the memory of his chiseled abs from a performance earlier in the year. He’s a rising sophomore, but solidly half of campus has a crush on him. Damn, THOSE are their standards, and they wanna fuck YOU? You gotta start giving yourself more credit.

"So, we're popular," Chan muses.

"You had to have known that," you shake your head, "Literally everyone knows you. First years are so thirsty for you. That's why I was so-"

You cut yourself off. They don't need to know that you were flustered when they approached you, back there. They don't need the ego trip.

So you just affix your best innocent smile to you face, looking the three of them over. Chan, leaning against the back of the couch. Changbin, lining up all four pairs of shoes (theirs and yours) by the front door. And Jisung, returned from the kitchen with a bottle of water that he's chugging like a dying man.

"You didn't invite me over to talk about your social status," you say instead.

"We sure didn't," Chan agrees.

"First things first, then," you say, "Boundaries. You guys have any hard limits? Safewords? Musts and don'ts?"

"Nope," says Jisung, taking another sip of the water to punctuate it.

"No musts or no don'ts?" you ask.

"Yes," he quips.

You can't help the way your smile grows. "Alright. Anyone else?"

"No serious degrading," Changbin says, very very quietly.

“Praise motivated, huh?” you coo, “Cute.”

Changbin looks slightly embarrassed, but his eyes are sharp and engaged as he adds, “And no digs at my size.”

You grin. "Size or size?"

"Either!" he pouts.

"Sounds fair to me," you say.

You fix your eyes on the last one: Chan, still looking only mildly interested and very calm. But you can see the very tips of his ears going red, and then it spreads down his cheeks, and then down his neck as you watch him.

And finally, he says, "I'm not good with praise."

Jisung laughs, loud and ridiculous. "That's an understatement."

You smile warmly at Chan, not wanting him to back down if this is a legit thing for him, "So does that mean no praise?"

"No," he says immediately, "Just that...if you - I get all-"

"Flustered," you finish for him. "Good to know."

You pause for a second, wondering what kind of hard limits you'll need to bring up to them tonight. They don't seem like the kind of partners to push you into anything, if they way they're already tiptoeing around is any indication.

"I don't like hitting in the face," you say, after a moment. "Or blood."

Changbin gives you a look. "Is that the kind of stuff you do on your first night with someone?"

You laugh, "No, not usually. But some people have really specific fetishes, and I live to please. Gotta lay everything out before we start."

Chan nods sincerely, like he knows exactly what you're saying, and Jisung follows suit. You're satisfied that you've covered your bases now. And besides, you really want to get started. You have three beautiful men here to play with.

So you say, "Okay. Who's first?"

You're still smiling, but you let some of your pent-up excitement leak into it, wondering if any of them will take the bait. You wonder if they're starting to think that you're some kind of super strict domme. Very serious, or very demanding, or something. You've had that problem before, with people crumbling before you even get started since you're so blunt about boundaries. Some people take that to mean that you like rigid roles and rules and set scenes.

But that's not really true. After the communication is solidified and you trust your partner, you like to just...let go.

Much to your amusement, the first one to crack is Jisung.

He practically bounces up to you, his face so perfectly cute that you wonder if he practices the look in the mirror. It's equal parts funny and ironic, since he's the youngest and also, from what you've seen at school, the one who wants to be taken most seriously.

"I'm first," he informs you.

You smile. You can't help it. His expression is so open and happy, even though his eyes are a little nervous. It's just so much. You gently nudge Chan away from the couch, and pat the back of it gently, invitingly. Jisung seems to understand you immediately and hops right up, balancing himself on the frame and the tops of the cushions, his legs dangling down the back of the couch. You settle yourself between his legs, standing purposefully, spreading your hands across his back to support him gently.

He leans back a little as if to test you, and you hold him up easily. It's not so much that you're strong, but that Jisung's so lean and slim. And even if he did fall, it would just be the short drop onto the seat of the couch. His eyes go wider as he realizes what kind of game you're playing with him. It's a signal, and you figured he'd be smart enough to pick up on it.

"I've got you," you say, very softly, into his ear.

Even if you look unassuming, even if they're taller and louder and bolder than you. Even if you're a gentle dom who puts up with some antics.

You're in control.

When you pull back and look at him, you swear you can see the little cartoon stars blooming in his eyes. He definitely got the message loud and clear.

He nods, almost imperceptibly, and says, "I know."

And you kiss him. He deserves it. A proper kiss, not like the teasing you'd done to him at the party. You let him lick into your mouth, scrape your teeth gently over his soft bottom lip. He's a good boy, you decide. Certified good boy.

Jisung leans back a bit more as he pulls away from you, and he lurches, loses his balance. He doesn’t go anywhere, since you're still holding him up securely, but he looks spooked. It fascinates you, how quickly he's fallen into the game of it. There's no risk if he falls, and yet...

"Can I-" he asks, " - can I touch-"

"Yeah," you say, cutting him off.

And then he's gently holding your face with one hand, the other arm draped over your shoulder, fingers playing with your hair. His body is much more relaxed as he kisses you, and you relish in it.

Oh, he's a sweetheart, you realize. Not a pushover or anything; he's still cupping your face and smiling into the kiss, confident and comfortable. But a good boy.

"You're so pretty," you say.

Jisung honest to God whines against your lips at the praise.

"It's true," you say, amused.

"He likes that a lot," comes Chan's voice.

You jump, having nearly forgotten your audience again. The other two are standing just beside you, watching intently as you work over their boyfriend.

"Being called pretty?" you ask him, as if Jisung isn't even there.

Chan nods.

"Well, he is," you affirm, leaning in to kiss Jisung's nose, trying to get your groove back.

Honestly, it’s a struggle to keep up with the fact that you’re trying to dom three people at once. You know you’ll do fine. It’s group sex, not a goddamn triathlon. But it’s useful here that you prefer domming psychologically, rather than with lots of physical force. You don’t know exactly what these three are used to, what they’re comfortable doing. A first-time with three people at once probably isn't the best time to fly in with a strap-on and demand people obey you.

So doing this the old-fashioned way, with simple baiting, praising, awarding, withholding…that’s gonna be the way forward.

“Who’s got the best bed for a foursome?” you ask, still holding up Jisung but looking expectantly back at Chan and Changbin.

Changbin nudges Chan with his elbow, "D'you think you could handle moving your pillow fort? For sexy purposes."

"Pillow fort?" you repeat.

"I have a lot of pillows, it's fine," Chan defends. "No big deal."

"He makes a nest with them," pipes up Jisung, "Like a crib."

Chan glares at him, "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was Put Chan On Blast Night."

"Okay, whose bed is biggest?" you ask instead, deigning not to comment on the pillow thing any further.

"Changbin's," says Jisung.

"Then we can go there."

"Yes, ma'am," Changbin says easily, and he turns on his heel to head for the bedroom door on the right side of the house.

It's a small house, so he's quickly out of sight. Chan follows after him. You unwind your arms from around Jisung's little waist, and he lets himself drop dramatically backwards onto the couch cushions. You follow Chan, and Jisung chases after you.

Changbin's room is painted an off-white, the bedding rich dark blue against neutral wood furniture. It's extremely well-done for a college boy's room. You're impressed. It might even be more cohesive than your room. Now, at night, with just the soft light coming in from outside in the gap of his slightly-open blackout curtains, it looks impossibly atmospheric.

"Hold on," Changbin mutters, as you take in the space.

There's a soft click, and a set of fairy lights come on, strung around the perimeter of the room. They're an interesting color array, purple and blue and cool white. It's bright enough to see what you're doing, to see each other, but dark enough to set the tone. Yeah. They have a lot of sex in here. You're kind of excited to be part of it.

"Is there anyone-" you start, before your mind can filter the thought, and you stop.

But all three of them are just looking at you, standing there in a little line. You walk deeper into the room. You can do this. And so you swallow that last trace of lingering shame and ask them outright.

"Is there anyone who doesn't wanna fuck me?"

Jisung and Changbin break out in raucous laughter, and Chan just regards you.

"Why would we not want to?" Chan asks.

"I mean," you huff feeling petulant despite yourself, "Some people have no interest in the P in V stuff and would prefer something else, shut up!"

"You ask a lot of questions," Chan shoots back.

"I'm being considerate," you reply.

"No, I think we're all on board," interrupts Changbin, as if to head off a real argument.

You have no intention of fighting, though. You wonder what kind of people these three have hooked up with in the past. They obviously have no communication difficulties with each other, and yet they're (well...Chan is) being so difficult with you.

"Perfect," you say, "'Bin, c'mere."

Changbin shuffles nearer to you, leaving the others behind, and you look him over carefully. He's broad and strong, much bigger than Jisung. Your approach to him has to be a little different, you think. You make a quick decision: he's gonna be your ally tonight.

You lean into his ear and whisper the plan you've been making up on the fly. He listens. And when you've finished, Changbin grins conniving and bright.

"Does that sound good?" you ask him.

He nods. "I think they'll like it."

"Like what?" Jisung asks eagerly.

"Don't worry about it," you reply.

"I'm gonna worry about it," says Chan.

That dude. So neurotic. You really need to figure out what his buttons are, so you can know which ones to press and which to avoid. It's gonna take more than a little hair-pulling to figure out, you wager.

"'Bin, give me a hand?" you say, gesturing at your top.

Changbin gives you a winning smile and looks gloatingly back at Jisung, then at Chan, and then he reaches down to leisurely unbutton your shirt. You never wear button-downs, but you're glad you did tonight. They make undressing so much more...cinematic.

You shrug off the shirt when Changbin's done, the final button falling open, and you move next to strip off his t-shirt, too. He wears those things tight. He always has; you can't even count how many days in class you've spent staring at the muscular span of his shoulders. This one is the same, clinging to his form ridiculously, like he's trying out to be Captain America's body double.

When the t-shirt is gone, you're greeted with a thick, toned upper body that dips into solid, narrower hips. Not quite cut, no chocolate abs or anything, but he's got some impressive working muscle under his deep-toned skin. Beef. He's beefy.

"Wow," you say appreciatively, running your hand from his collarbone all the way down to his belt.

"What about us?" Jisung asks.

"Patience," you murmur, "Don't you want Changbinnie to feel good?"

Jisung pouts, but says, "Yes..."

"Then you can wait your turn," you say plaintively.

"Can I kiss you, noona?" Changbin asks.

You look at him, amused. "So you heard that conversation."

Changbin shakes his head. "I knew before. Chan-hyung always calls you-"

Chan squeaks, mortified, cutting him off, but you've heard plenty.

"Oh, he always calls me noona," you purr, "Before he knew how old I was?"

"Yes," Changbin says.

That's interesting, to say the least. It means that their approach to you from the start was to defer familiar respect and treat you like an elder, rather than a peer. Hm.

You get a little closer, bringing your face up to his. "Do you talk about me a lot?"

"No," Changbin breathes, "But when we do-"

"Dude!" Chan hisses.

"Don't listen to him," you soothe Changbin, giving Chan a little wink over your shoulder, "Thank you for telling me."

You kiss Changbin, since he did ask so nicely and gave you a wonderful tidbit about Chan. He's a good kisser. Needy; he's pressing you backwards with his enthusiasm. You reach to put your arms around his neck, but then you reconsider. Instead, you fold yourself against his chest, palms flat on his pecs. It gives the illusion that you're much smaller than him, even though admittedly he's not a very tall person.

The change in his body language is instantaneous. Your hunch was right - he likes feeling big. He did say not to make digs about his size. Well, you certainly won't about his height. But his size...

You move down and begin unbuckling his belt.

"How come only he gets to get naked?" Jisung complains.

You glance at him, hands busy unbuttoning and zipping down Changbin.

"I'm not stopping you," you reply, "You could undress without permission. But you'll miss out on all the fun if you just go off on your own."

Jisung blinks doe eyes at you, and Chan huffs out a laugh.

"Some dom you are, yeah?" Chan scoffs.

You shrug. "I can't make you do anything. I'm not gonna force you."

"No?" Chan says.

"That's the fun of this stuff, isn't it?" you say.

You ruffle Changbin's hair playfully, and motion for him to continue undressing himself. Willing all the grace you know you possess, you walk over to Chan, keeping your motions fluid and careless. You want him to see exactly what kind of dom you are.

"The fact that you don't have to listen to me. That's the fun," you say, "You don't have to. But you will. You wanna be good."

Chan swallows hard. "I..."

"I'm sure you like being good," you continue, cupping Chan's face in both of your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. "You're gonna be good for me, aren't you, peach?"

"Yeah," he says, so quietly that you think you've imagined it, his cheeks burning red.

"I'm sorry," you hum, "I didn't hear that. Yes...?"

"Yes, noona," Chan says.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, noona, I'll be good for you."

"I thought you would be," you say, satisfied. "Go sit on the bed. Against the headboard."

He looks like he wants to complain about that, but you shrug again, punctuating that you're truly not here to force anyone. Domming is about control, not force. If Chan wants to turn over control to you, he will.

And he does.

He scrambles up the bed and sits with his back against the headboard. You can feel his eyes on you, and Jisung's wide, wide eyes, as you return to Changbin.

Changbin is down to his boxer-briefs, and God, he's good-looking. Solid and masculine. You kind of just want to have your way with him and be done with it. But that's not the plan.

“Jisung,” you say.

He jumps, not expecting to be addressed. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay bottoming tonight?”

“’Course,” he affirms, “Always. For who?”

You glance at Changbin, who nods, and Jisung smiles his biggest, most genuine smile, crooked front tooth and all.

“I like this plan,” he says.

That assent is all you need to hear.

“Is there lube?” you ask Changbin.

He turns away, presumably to grab it, and you snag Jisung by the wrist and tug him toward you. Jisung's wide smile is distracting, as you have him lie down on the bed. Changbin's bed is a king, you think, a really really big mattress with plenty of room to use. But when Jisung sprawls out easily, the top of his head is close to Chan.

"You have one rule, up there," you say to Chan, "No touching."

"No touching...him?" Chan asked, pointing at Jisung.

You smile. "No touching. Him, me, 'Bin, yourself. No touching."

Chan looks wide-eyed, almost hurt at your words. You can't tell exactly how he's feeling, so you move around the bed until you're right in front of him, and take one of his hands in yours.

"Is that okay?" you ask, "Are you okay with that?"

"I'm okay," he says.

You look at Changbin, waiting by Jisung's knees at the edge of the bed, and at Jisung himself, watching you upside-down.

"Can I implement the traffic light system?" you ask them, "It's the easiest safeword system for me, I think, with so many of you."

"You mean the color thing," Changbin clarifies.

"Yeah," you nod.

"We've used that one before," says Jisung agreeably, "We don't usually use any safewords but we can do that.

You turn back to Chan. "Does that work for you?"

He smiles, and it warms up his face all the way to his eyes, so you relax.

"Yeah, that works well," he says.

"Good," you say, "So. Color?"

"Green," says Chan.

"Great."

You lean in and kiss him for his trouble, realizing with a thrill that you've really only kissed him one other time. He's damn good at it, too, eager but gentle with just enough pressure. You pull back right as he starts to really melt against you, and drop his hand back onto his lap, in favor of returning to Jisung where you've left him.

Jisung, for his part, is lounging back on his elbows, just watching you, and you nudge his knees farther apart as you settle in between them. You can feel Changbin's warmth behind you again as he hovers, not quite touching you.

"Noona," he whines.

You glance back at him, his chin at your shoulder.

"I know," you tut, "You're already doing a good job for me, gorgeous."

He beams at the praise, and repeats, "Noonaaaa."

You smile to yourself at the lilt in his voice. "You can touch, baby."

There are suddenly lips against the side of your throat, Changbin trailing kisses across your skin, and hands on your waist pulling you back gingerly, as if he's afraid you'll tell him off for being too greedy (which is a good and valid worry). You lean away, down toward Jisung, and coax him upright to peel the baggy t-shirt off him. As you get the garment over his head, you're surprised to see firm abs and pecs. Jisung is small and thin, but apparently very, very muscular. Huh.

"You've been holding out on me," you chide him.

"Don't think about it that way, noona," Jisung says, "Think of it as a nice surprise."

You huff out a laugh. He's being kind of mouthy, but it's cute, so you're gonna let it slide. Mostly.

"Are you in any position to be telling me what to do?" you tease.

Jisung shrugs, lips pursed. You tickle your fingers down the hard line of his abs, grinning when he jumps and squeaks under your touch.

"'Bin?" you ask.

"Yes?"

"Who here is overdressed?"

Changbin hums against your skin, mouthing at the soft juncture of your neck and your shoulder, and says, "Jisungie, noona. And you."

"Not Chan?" you ask lightly.

Changbin grins. You can feel the flats of his teeth against your skin.

"Not unless you say so, noona," Changbin says.

"Good call, gorgeous," you say, leaning back into his touch.

He's hard against your ass, you note. Perfect. You go for Jisung's skintight jeans next, unbuttoning and peeling the black denim down his slim thighs. He's so dainty, all thin graceful limbs, his frame small but masculine and defined. You can see his cock twitch with interest as you get the jeans all the way off, his boxers beginning to tent.

"Excited?" you ask, letting your hand trail over him, gently feeling the outline of him through the thin fabric.

"Yeah," he says, shameless.

"Who should get undressed first?" you ask Jisung,

Jisung must register something in your tone, as his big eyes look from you, to Changbin, back to you.

And then he says, "Me, noona."

"Oh," you purr, "Good boy."

You free him from his boxers, and it's not a surprise when you're met with a pretty, proportional cock, flushed and lovely. You're hit with the urge to feel the weight of him in your mouth. And fuck, this is YOUR game, isn't it? So you lean down and do just that, taking his head between your lips.

Jisung gasps, high and pretty, and you can see Chan's face above you darken. He looks...jealous?

"Peach, you okay?" you say, coming off Jisung to speak.

Chan looks at you, puppy-eyed.

"I want..." he trails plaintively.

"I know you do," you agree. “Don’t be greedy.”

He's still sitting obediently, hands balled into fists atop his thighs and not touching anything. He's the only one fully dressed, and you can tell that it's driving him crazy. He can wait. You know he can.

So you nuzzle against Jisung's stomach indulgently and ask him, "Who next?"

Jisung pauses, comprehending what you've asked, and then he says, "Changbin-hyung."

You place your hand over Changbin's where it still rests in its spot on your waist.

"You heard him, Binnie," you say, "Go 'head."

His warmth vanishes from behind you for only a few seconds before he's back, his now unencumbered cock brushing against your shorts. You grip Jisung's length again, pumping him for a moment, looking down at him with a glint in your eye.

"Here's what's going to happen," you say, standing up properly, "I'm going to prep you for Changbin, baby. And Changbin is gonna have some fun of his own while I do it."

Jisung nods his understanding at your words, his expression delighted, and Chan is all but panting as he sits pretty for you. There's a lovely flush creeping from his ears toward the neckline of his button-down shirt.

You shuck off your own shorts, left now in just your bra and panties. As you look down at yourself, you realize that while they are not a matching set, your underwear ARE about the same color, which you count as a personal victory. It's the little things.

"Hand me a pillow, peach?" you ask Chan.

He nearly topples over in his eagerness to give you a pillow from the head of the bed. You have Jisung raise his hips, and settle the pillow under him, angling him up for better access. He doesn't seem the slightest bit self-conscious, on display to you like that. You almost hate how attractive that is.

"Everyone, color?" you ask.

"Green," chirps Jisung, almost before you're done speaking.

"Green," Chan agrees.

"So green," Changbin groans from behind you, where he's still grinding against your ass.

"Wonderful," you murmur.

You turn your attention fully to the boy beneath you. Jisung is impeccably groomed, maybe even better than you, you think. There's a neat thatch of hair around the base, and he's all but hairless everywhere else. It's impressive.

You trail your hand over his balls, his perineum, to his hole, and he chokes out a moan as you just graze the thin skin there.

"Are you sure you're ready to go, Jisungie?" you ask, and he nods eagerly.

"I wanted to bottom tonight anyway," he informs you cheekily.

Chan laughs, which melts any of your lingering worries that you've overwhelming or neglecting him.

"That's true," Chan says softly. "He told us before the party."

"You guys are so much fun," you say.

The lube is laying on the comforter next to you, so you pick it up, pop the top, and coat two of your fingers in the stuff. You lean down over Jisung again, knowing how obscene you must look together, him all spread out for you and you draped over his lithe little body. You're sure both Chan, in front, and Changbin, behind, are getting an eyeful of the two of you.

"I'm gonna start," you warn Jisung.

"Finally," Jisung teases, "I was beginning to think - shit-"

He's cut off as you ease your index finger past that ring of muscle. The slide is much easier than you expected, but he still whines out in a pitch higher than you would have thought.

"You do this a lot?" you ask him, only half-teasing, slowly pumping your finger and relishing in the easy way he takes you, "You're so open."

"I do, yeah," Jisung agrees, breathless.

"And here I thought you were the bottom of the group," you say to Chan, letting a little bit of bite into your voice, wondering if they're at all into that.

Chan's flush picks back up, and he stammers, "I - mean-"

"He can be a great little hole, too," Jisung says, casually, "I wrecked him a couple days ago, didn't I, hyung?"

Still blushing furiously, Chan nods.

"Interesting," you say simply, turning your attention back to Jisung, "Hey, what happened to those pretty sounds?"

You curl your finger slightly, and Jisung lets out another gasp.

"That's more like it," you praise.

You almost wish you had a strap here, so you could do the next part yourself, too. But your actual plan is gonna be just as much fun, so you can easily be content with this.

"Noona," comes Changbin's voice.

"Yes?" you answer.

"Can I...I mean..." Changbin trails off, seeming embarrassed.

"Can you?" you prompt, amused at his sudden shyness.

"Can I make you feel good, too?" he asks.

"Oh, baby," you simper, "Of course. So good, asking for permission."

Changbin laughs breathlessly, and so does Jisung.

"Isn't he good?" you ask Jisung.

"Good," Jisung agrees, though he nearly chokes on the word.

He seems to be ready for another finger, so you draw out and press back in with two, this time. At the same time, you lean down to take his length back into your mouth. Jisung whimpers again, starting to press his hips down against your hand.

As you're bent over at the waist, pleasuring Jisung, you feel tentative fingers pulling your panties to the side. You wonder if you're going to get the warm press of a cockhead, or-

"Oh," you breathe, pulling off Jisung's cock again to collect yourself as the unmistakable trace of a tongue wanders up your core.

Changbin pulls away just as quickly as he began, and you all but groan in frustration.

"Come on, gorgeous, don't be shy," you urge.

And the tongue returns, more eager this time, as Changbin settles himself fully between your legs. You steel yourself to enjoy while also focusing on the task at hand, prepping Jisung, and keeping your wits about you. Changbin definitely doesn't seem like he's only a sub, and neither do the other two, honestly. They seem like switches, if you had to hazard a guess. It would be in poor taste to let any of them turn the tables on you, now, wouldn't it?

Your mind wanders a little as you scissor and work your two fingers, Jisung trembling and whimpering praise under you, Changbin's plush lips against your clit. How the fuck did you get here?

You're kind of floored to think that maybe an hour ago, you were at that party, bored, barely buzzed, and anonymous, or so you thought. Plain old you. And now you're here, sandwiched between two of the hot, popular guys from Physics class with the third one watching you and white-knuckling the sheets.

A surge of power sweeps through you at the thought. You're here. You have this. You deserve this. And you're gonna have a good fucking time.

"I'm ready!" Jisung is sputtering, "I'm - I'm-"

"Ready," you finish for him, bringing your focus back to the moment.

There's arousal building low in your stomach. Changbin is good with his mouth. You kind of wish you could see him while he's doing this.

"Ready for what?" you ask Jisung.

"More!" he whines, “More, Jesus, two fingers is basic!”

You pull your fingers out, which just makes him whine louder, to reapply lube. This time, you push in with three, and Jisung keens long and low.

"You know, Changbinnie," you say, making sure to keep your voice measured and casual, "You're gonna need to get wet to fit inside Jisungie's pretty hole."

Changbin pulls himself up at your words, leaving your core wet and exposed and distinctly throbbing, and he leans forward to take the lube from you. You stop him before he can take the bottle.

"That's not what I meant," you say sweetly.

There's a fraction of a second while he catches up, and then Changbin groans openly against your shoulder blade, as you continue to work your fingers steadily in and out of Jisung.

"Noona, we have condoms in Chan-hyung's room," Changbin says, "I can go-"

"No," you say, "No need."

And that's all the permission Changbin seems to need, before he's lining himself up.

"Can I?" he asks.

You coo. He hasn't missed a single beat, sweet and obedient and so ready to be good for you.

"You're so good, gorgeous," you say, "Yes, please."

He sinks into you quickly, no preamble, and you can't blame him for being eager because you're secretly just as ready for it. He's thicker than you expected, but you should have expected it, considering the rest of his body. You find yourself panting against Jisung’s hipbone, your fingers pausing inside Jisung as you enjoy the delicious stretch.

“Can I move, noona?” Changbin asks, sounding punched-out already.

“Take it slow,” you instruct him, “This is just a warmup for you, you know.”

Changbin whines under his breath but obeys you, pulling out agonizingly slowly. As you try to keep your head clear, you notice Chan shifting on the bed ahead of you, and you have an idea.

“Okay, peach,” you say, keeping your voice level, “Why don’t you come over here and have a good look?”

“A look?” Chan repeats, “At…”

You smile to yourself. “At whatever you want. Jisung is a pretty picture, I’m sure you know that.”

“And you, noona,” Changbin cuts in.

“And me?” you say, amused.

“Pretty,” says Changbin, by way of explanation, as he keeps up his slow, slow pace.

“Thanks,” you say, arching back against him, figuring he deserves a little reward.

You nod at Chan, encouraging, and he crawls off the bed and comes around behind you. You’re sure he can see everything from where he is - your fingers disappearing into Jisung’s heat, Changbin’s cock disappearing into you. The combined power of Changbin’s steady pace and Chan watching it all is a little overwhelming. You need to narrow your focus or else someone is gonna come before you intend it to happen, and that someone might just be you.

You gently pull your fingers out of Jisung’s hole, leaving him complaining behind you.

“It was just starting to get good, come on!” Jisung whines

“Patience, baby,” you say, giving Jisung a playing smack on the meat of his thigh.

You turn your head fully to look at Chan. He’s staring, transfixed, down on the place where Changbin’s cock is slowly working in and out of you. And now that your brain isn’t focusing on being careful with Jisung, the arousal is really catching up with you. You’re getting close.

Really, you reason, what’s the harm in having a little more fun for yourself?

“Jisungie,” you say, “You wanna give me a hand here?”

He looks rightfully confused, until you reach up and snap your own bra strap against your skin. Then Jisung winks at you, and reaches around to push-pull-snap open the hooks in the back in one fluid movement.

“How’d you get so good at that?” you ask him, amused. “None of your partners wear bras.”

Jisung looks offended. “Who says I don’t wear ‘em?”

“Good point.”

You shrug off the garment, now only in your panties, which aren’t doing much of anything anymore since Changbin’s fucking you around them. Jisung’s eyes are following your breasts as you readjust yourself, sitting up more and shifting your weight onto your knees. Man, your core is gonna be killing you tomorrow…

“Lock it up, baby, shit,” you tease Jisung, “How long has it been since you’ve seen tiddies?”

“That weren’t on a man? I don’t even know.”

“Hm.”

You reach down and start drawing lazy circles on your clit, and you can feel yourself clench down on Changbin at the stimulation. He gasps, and you tut at him.

“I know you can wait for me, gorgeous,” you say.

He whines, “But-”

“Changbinnie. You’re gonna let me feel good, aren’t you?” you ask him. “Don’t I deserve to cum first?”

“Yes,” he grinds out.

“Noona, can I do it?” Jisung asks suddenly.

You’re still hovering over him, all but laying on top of him, and you look down at his face. His eyes are fixed on your fingers, rubbing yourself through your underwear.

“Do what?” you ask, just to be difficult.

“Make you cum,” Jisung answers.

You take your hand off your clit and reach out to thread your fingers through Jisung’s, leading him back to the front of your panties.

“You and Binnie need to work together for this, huh?” you say, “One of you isn’t good enough? It has to be two?”

“I’m good enough,” Changbin argues.

“Shush,” you admonish, “Then prove it.”

You let your hand fall away again, as Jisung takes up the task. He slips his fingers down your waistband, circling hard and tight over your clit. Changbin, obedient to the end, is still somehow keeping up those slow, deep strokes that you demanded. And you have to admit: they’re determined to prove it.

“Jesus, noona,” Changbin whines.

“You’re not gonna cum yet,” you instruct.

“I know.”

Jisung meets Changbin’s eye over your shoulder; you can tell that’s what he’s doing from the smirk on Jisung’s face and the muttered shut up that Changbin stifles into your neck. He gets up on his knees, and you find yourself pressed between them, your forehead against Jisung’s breastbone as his fingers work under you. You glance up, intending to tell Jisung off for making his next move on his own, but the vision you see knocks that idea right out of your head.

They’re making out over you.

It’s so beautifully desperate, Changbin biting and panting into Jisung’s mouth and whining under it all as he fucks into you, Jisung with one hand fisted in Changbin’s hair and the other still dutifully circling your clit, wet and dirty. As you feel your peak coming on, you remember the last member of your party, poor Chan, still relegated to his spectator’s spot behind you all, still under orders not to touch. You look up at him, and God, you wish you had looked sooner.

Chan is standing there, hands cemented at his sides. He’s flushed from the tips of his ears all the way down his neck, to his chest, creeping under his shirt, and his eyes are hungry. But he’s being good, no matter how much he wants to move.

He’s still being good, and that’s what sends you over the edge. You drop your head back down against Jisung’s chest, and gasp and shake your way through your own orgasm. Changbin lets out a moan that borders on a shout, as you surprise him with your clenching walls, and he slows down even more, just grinding into you. There’s something so bone-deep satisfying about it, all three of the boys with their eyes on you and unable to do anything without your permission. They just have to watch and hold back.

You wait until you can speak properly before you say anything to them.

“You didn’t cum, did you, gorgeous?” you ask, swiveling your oversensitive pussy back on Changbin, spots swimming in your vision from how hard you came.

“No, noona,” Changbin says, and his voice is thin with strain but confident.

You know he didn’t, but it’s satisfying to make him say it. He’s holding still now, just standing there stuffing you full. That orgasm cleared your head a bit; you feel more centered than ever. And you feel a little bit bad for Chan, honestly. He’s gotten the least attention from you so far.

“I think Channie really wishes he was you two right now. What d’you think, peach?” you ask, directing the last part at Chan.

Chan doesn’t answer right away, which is just as well, because you can see his erection straining against his dark jeans. His eyes are fixed between your legs, where you can feel your own wetness inching obscenely out around Changbin’s cock.

“I asked you a question,” you say, louder, and Chan looks at your face instead of your pussy.

“I think I’ve been good, noona,” Chan says quietly.

“Let’s get a second opinion, hm?” you say.

You peel Changbin’s hands off your waist and scoot away from him, pulling yourself off his dick, and push Jisung away to give yourself some room. You settle beside Jisung, who sits back down against the mattress and leans on his elbows to look at the rest of you.

“But noonaaaa,” Changbin whines.

“You got some already,” you admonish. “Don’t be greedy.”

Changbin pouts at you, and you reach out and squish his cheeks in your hand. He just lets you do it, and you lean in and kiss his lips. He deserves it, and more.

“So. Consensus,” you say, “Has Channie been good?”

“Not as good as me,” Changbin mutters.

You laugh, and turn to Jisung expectantly for his answer.

“I think so,” Jisung says, “He listens to you much better than he listens to me.”

“How honest,” you say.

You turn and swing one leg over Jisung’s torso, only hesitating for a second as you factor in your body weight on top of his dainty little body and then deciding it doesn’t matter. You sit up straight, facing Jisung so that you can see his expression, trapping his bare cock between your folds, still kind of covered in your stretched and soaked panties, and his stomach.

“Oh, Jesus,” Jisung wheezes, throwing his head back.

“They’re really roasting you,” you say to Chan conversationally, as if you’re not torturing Jisung in the same moment.

“I’m used to it,” he replies, giving you a sheepish smile that shows his deep dimples.

His casual admission is strangely charming, and it makes you smile back. You grind down on Jisung just for a second, just to hear the noise that he makes. He doesn't disappoint, a whine coming up from his chest as his hands scrabble at the sheets. He doesn't touch you, even though you haven't said that he can't. The faultless obedience is thrilling.

"Are you ready for a little more?" you ask Jisung, nodding toward Changbin.

"A little?" Changbin protests.

You send him a wink, realizing the stupid joke. "Oh, come on, that wasn't a dig."

"Thin ice, noona," he mutters.

You raise an eyebrow at that. "Excuse me?"

"Biting the hand that feeds you, hyung," Jisung sing-songs, tilting his head up.

"Jisungie, you talk too much," you tease.

You shift over Jisung so that the head of his cock prods at your entrance. You're still wet and messy from all of their handiwork, and Jisung keens.

"We don't need him, do we?" you nod over your shoulder at Changbin.

"I mean, I was looking forward to the dicking, but - oh shit" Jisung moans, as you reach down and pull your panties aside properly, and let the very tip of him slip inside you.

"This isn't the plan," Changbin complains.

You smile at him sweetly. "I just don't want anyone to forget who's in charge here."

You climb off Jisung, leaving him whining in your wake, and move up to the spot at the head of the bed where you'd sat Chan earlier. The three boys watch as you settle cross-legged, casual as anything.

"I think," you say, resting your chin in your hand and your elbow on your knee, "I think that I just want to watch for a while."

All three of them, Changbin and Chan standing side by side and Jisung sitting half-upright, look at you with matching wide eyes. You tut, looking right back at them and silently making up your mind.

"Come here, peach," you say, making grabby hands at Chan.

He complies easily, coming back up the bed toward you, and you uncross your legs to make some room, patting the mattress in front of you. Chan pauses, kneeling between your open legs, and you turn him around gently by the shoulders. You sit him down with his back pressed to your chest. He's still fully dressed, even after everything that’s gone on, and his silky black shirt is cool and soft against your bare skin. His broad shoulders cover you entirely, but he melts against you, sliding down a little so that his head rests at the crook of your neck, curly black hair against your cheek.

"Jisungie, Binnie?" you say, "I want you to put on a good show for me while I give this poor baby boy some attention."

You let your hands wander to the top button on Chan's shirt. It's not the top button, really, because he's got the first three undone already to show a span of pale toned chest. So you unbutton the next one, and crawl your fingers down to the next, too.

"So I can," Changbin starts, "I can-"

"Yes," you nod, "But neither of you can cum until I say so. Okay?"

"Okay," says Jisung eagerly.

"You have to earn it," you warn, "A good show."

Jisung and Changbin look at each other, significantly, like they're silently concocting their own plan. You decide you can get a hand on that ball, too.

"Channie, wouldn't they be pretty if they kissed for us?" you ask, murmuring right into Chan's ear.

He nods eagerly, and you pop another shirt button. You glance down at Chan's torso, completely bare to you now, all pale smooth skin and chiseled abs. So you ease the silky shirt off his shoulders, down his arms, and discard it off the side of the bed.

By the time you look back up, Jisung has Changbin pinned to the bed, straddling his waist and kissing him right into the mattress.

"Oh," you say mildly, "Promising start, hm?"

You stroke up and down Chan's abs with your fingertips, and he laughs gently.

"They're always like this," he says.

"Thirsty?"

"Out of control," he corrects.

Jisung breaks away from Changbin's mouth, frowning at Chan. "You love it, you asshole. You're just as bad."

Chan nestles back into you more and doesn't say anything, but you can see an answering half-smile creeping over his face. Changbin takes advantage of the distraction to flip Jisung over onto his back, finally flexing the strength you know he has, and bends Jisung nearly in half. His knees are up by his shoulders, and his face is more than a little alarmed.

"Hey, I'm not that bendy!" Jisung protests.

"Yeah, you are," Changbin shushes, "Do you wanna cum or not?"

You grin. "Come on, then."

With a big upside-down sigh, Jisung looks at you, while Changbin digs around in the sheets for the lube.

"You see what I have to deal with?" Jisung asks you, "They're so good and nice for you, and for me? This disrespect. I don't even know - OH-"

Jisung cuts off, and it's obvious what's happening from the way Changbin's hands fly down to Jisung's hips and Jisung's back arches up to meet him. You hum your satisfaction, taking in the blissful expression on Changbin's face, and the sweat already beading at Jisung's hairline.

But you quickly realize that you can't see nearly well enough. They're laying up the bed properly, feet at the foot and Jisung's head against the mattress near yours and Chan's intertwined legs. But if they were perpendicular to you...

"Okay, gorgeous," you coo, and Changbin's head snaps up at the sound of the pet name, "Turn around on the bed so that I can see exactly how nice Jisungie fits around you."

It takes a second, but Changbin processes your words with a slow blink, and grabs Jisung's hips to unceremoniously turn them ninety degrees. Now they're laying across the bed widthwise, and you have a delightful view of Changbin's thick cock sinking into Jisung smoothly. He's set a brutal pace, snapping against Jisung's narrow hips with a force that makes you clench around nothing. He’s obviously making up for the painfully slow pace you made him take on you. It's quiet enough that all you can hear is the perverse squelch of lube and the tiny breathy sighs Jisung makes every time Changbin bottoms out.

"Jesus," Chan breathes, and you nearly jump out of your skin; despite the weight of him on you, you've all but forgotten about him while you're taking in the view in front of you.

"How do they look?" you ask him, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair.

"So good," Chan answers, "So - ah-"

You tug his curls gently, and Chan arches his neck back so that his head rests fully on your shoulder.

"Noona," Changbin says with an edge of desperation in his voice, pulling your attention back to him, "Noona, I'm not, I can't-"

"You gotta hold on for me, gorgeous," you coax.

Changbin nods, digging his fingers into Jisung's hips and making his poor boyfriend squeak at the added pressure. He sits back on his heels, pulling Jisung with him, so that he’s almost upright, giving you a delightful view of their bodies meeting. It makes you groan to yourself, waves of arousal peeling through your gut.

You reach down to undo Chan’s belt and jeans, and it only takes a moment to rid him of those, too. He’s ridiculously hard in his black boxers, and as you palm him through the fabric, you have to admit that he’s the biggest of the three of them.

“Who’s gonna cum first?” you ask Chan.

He drags his eyes away from the sight of Jisung’s arched back, the faint bruises forming under Changbin’s hands, and looks up at you.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs.

“I think Jisung’s earned it,” you decide, “Peach, you wanna give him a hand?”

“Not him,” Jisung gasps.

Chan looks affronted. “Hey!”

“Noona please,” Jisung begs. “Please!”

“Oh, you want me?” you ask, smirking.

Jisung nods, gasping and screwing his eyes shut as Changbin keeps up that punishing pace. You can have mercy on him, can’t you?

Chan leans forward so you can wiggle out from behind him, and you sit back on your heels beside Changbin and Jisung. The view is even better up close: Changbin’s muscles bunching and expanding, Jisung rocking up the bed with every thrust. Changbin’s gorgeous face furrowed in concentration. Jisung’s rim contracting obscenely around the cock still working in and out of him.

You feel delightfully gross, wonderfully perverse and voyeuristic, and you lean down to kiss Jisung. He kisses back like he’s starving, panting into your mouth.

“Pretty boy,” you say, right against his lips, “Do you want to cum?”

Jisung nods, his eyes barely focusing on you, the attention going right to his head. “Yes, noona!”

“What do you need to cum?” you ask him.

“Your…hand, noona, or your mouth, please,” Jisung whines.

You smile at him, leaning in for one more kiss. “You can cum when you’re ready, baby.”

“Yes, noona.”

One down, one to go. You shuffle so that you’re sitting face to face with Changbin and he all but falls forward to kiss you, his hips not even stuttering as they drive forward. His singular focus is impressive. You let Changbin press messy open-mouth kisses against your lips, your cheeks, as you finally wrap a hand around Jisung’s cock.

His whole body jumps when you start jerking him quickly. It only takes two, three, four pumps before Jisung is babbling, begging for your permission even though you’ve already given it.

“Noona, I’m going to – please let me cum, I need it, I need-”

“Go ahead, pretty baby, cum for me,” you say.

That’s all it takes for Jisung to come into your hand with a shout, loud and high-pitched and cracking in the middle. His voice is a rush of power, like adrenaline in your veins, and you keep up your pace, stroking him through his orgasm. You look to Changbin next, watching him as he throws his head back and moans openly at the feeling of Jisung coming around him. His eyes are wide open, still, and he finds your gaze as he finally begins to lose his pace. This is the second person’s orgasm he’s had to ride out, poor thing. It almost makes you want to keep going, see how long he can last…

“I-” he stutters, “I want…”

“Ask nicely,” you instruct.

“I want to cum, noona,” Changbin pleads.

“That doesn’t sound like asking nicely.”

Changbin makes a tiny sound of despair, and tries again, “Please, may I cum, noona? I’ve – God – I’ve been good, haven’t I? Please?”

He’s beautiful, begging so nicely for you. You bring up your hand that’s covered in Jisung’s cum and nudge the dirty fingers against his lips. Without hesitating, Changbin sucks two fingers into his mouth, his tongue working between the digits.

“Filthy,” you coo.

Changbin just whines around your fingers.

“Who are you cumming for, Binnie?” you ask, taking your hand back.

“You.”

“Hm?” you feign ignorance.

“You!”

“Who?”

“You, noona,” he moans.

“Okay, gorgeous, you can cum.”

“Thank you.”

With a final moan that sounds an awful lot like your name, Changbin cums, making Jisung whine out in his high, cracked little voice at the feeling of it. You lean back, just watching and enjoying, as they both come down.

Two down, one to go.

Chan is still waiting for you, though you wouldn’t doubt that he’s a little less patient than he was at the beginning of the session. He’s sitting back against the headboard again when you turn around, just watching you. You notice that he’s actually sitting on top of his hands, and you smile disdainfully at him.

“Oh, peach,” you say, “Are you so fucking desperate that you have to sit on your pretty little hands, to keep from disobeying me?”

“I’ve listened to you, noona,” Chan says.

“Is it so hard for you to be good?” you chide.

“It’s not!” he insists weakly.

“Shit, I think we could go again,” Jisung comments offhandedly, breaking your train of thought.

You look at him, suppressing your smile in favor of a cool stare. “Can you not let me deal with our sweet peach for two fucking minutes?”

“I’m just sayin’,” Jisung defends, holding up his hands in surrender. “Refractory period? Great.”

You decide to ignore Jisung and his big mouth. Chan deserves some undivided attention, and you planned right from the start that you’d have him like this.

Rolling your eyes in Jisung’s direction, you crawl over and take hold of Chan’s boxers, and pull them down his pale pretty legs and off. He looks distinctly shy when he’s finally fully naked for you, so you return the favor by slipping off your ruined panties. You can feel two sets of eyes on your ass as you maneuver yourself onto Chan’s lap.

You’re delighted to find that if you sit up perfectly straight, you’re taller than him. Tall enough that he has to tilt his head back to look at you. He’s all wide brown eyes and handsome flushed skin, and you stare down at him fondly.

“What do you want, peach?” you ask.

“You…” Chan trails.

You walk your hand up his shoulder, up into his hair, and tug at the back of his head. He tilts his chin up, leaning into the action, exposing his long beautiful neck to you. You can’t help it – you lean in and indulgently bite into the skin on the side of his throat.

“What about me?” you ask against his flesh.

You can feel Chan swallow. “I want…to fuck you, noona.”

“I know you can ask nicely.”

As you trail down and add another bite under the first, leaving your mark behind on his porcelain skin, Chan shows you just how well he can ask.

“Please, noona,” he breathes, “I can make you feel good, like Changbinnie, better than Changbinnie, wanna fuck you so good and fill-”

He cuts off with an embarrassed whimper, as if he’d almost let something slip. Unluckily for him, you have a pretty good idea what he was about to say.

“Oh, peach, you’re dirty,” you purr.

“I’m sorry, I-” Chan sputters, but you cut him off.

“No, no, no, no,” you shush him, “I like it.”

You lift yourself up slightly so that you can reach down and line him up with your pussy, and without preamble, you sink down on him. You know you’re still wet and sloppy from before, and Chan groans shamelessly as you settle your hips firmly against his.

“You can have me, but you’re doing all the work,” you inform him.

Apparently, that’s no problem for Chan, because he plants his feet on the mattress for leverage and begins pistoning upwards into you. You rise onto your knees slightly to meet him, making him work harder, rise higher to chase what he wants.

His pace is brutal, his hips moving precise and intense against yours, and you’re shocked to feel a second, penetrative orgasm rising on its own. You’re still so sensitive from cumming the first time, you know you’re not going to last very long. But Chan is having a similar problem.

“I’m not…I’m not going to last, noona, I’m-” Chan moans, sounding embarrassed by it.

You coo at him. His self-consciousness, even this far into a scene, is so endearing.

“Did you get all worked up watching Jisung and Changbin have their fun?” you ask, patronizing.

Chan nods, throwing his head all the way back as he chases his high, driving into you hard. “So good, noona, it was so good…”

You glance over your shoulder at the other two, the mention of them making you wonder what they’re up to, unattended over there, and you’re met with quite the scene.

“It seems like they’re enjoying us, too,” you say.

Chan brings his head forward again with what seems like a tremendous amount of effort, and peels his eyes open. When he sees his boyfriends behind you, his breakneck pace finally stutters.

“Fuck,” he groans, “Oh, Jesus Christ-”

Jisung is standing beside the bed, bracing himself against the wall like he’ll collapse if left only to his own strength. Which is valid, because Changbin is knelt between his legs, Jisung’s cock down his throat and Jisung’s hand on the back of his head, guiding him.

“They weren’t kidding about being ready another round,” you joke, and to your utter delight, Chan laughs.

“And I wasn’t kidding about – noona, fuck,” Chan whimpers, “I’m not – can I cum, noona?”

You hum. “You wanna fill me up, peach?”

Chan’s breath hitches at your words, and if it’s even possible, he begins fucking into you harder. He’s hitting you just right inside, cockhead brushing against that delicious spot and making stars dance in your vision. You can count on one hand how many times you’ve cum just from a partner like this, and you’re salivating at the idea of it. You’re so damn close.

“Yes,” he whines, “Noona please let me, I’ll make you feel so good, I promise, fill you up with my cum and – and-”

“You’ve waited long enough for me, peach,” you say, reaching up to cup his face in both of your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Cum.”

On command, like the good boy he is, Chan cries out, high pitched and absolutely beautiful, and cums. And then, surprise of surprises, he snakes one hand down between the two of you and finds your clit, rubbing into the poor sore nerves like he might die if he doesn’t make you cum.

And you do. You can’t even choke down the squeak of “Chan, oh, fuck!” as you clamp down on him, pleasure bursting behind your eyelids like fireworks and warming you all the way down to your toes.

As your orgasm fades and the world comes back into focus around you, the first thing you see is Chan’s self-satisfied little smile. That smug bastard…

You grin back at him, pushing him away by the chest, “Shut up.”

Gingerly, you climb off his softening cock and off his lap entirely, to throw yourself down haphazardly on the bed. Chan collapses across you, landing heavy over your legs and making you protest for your poor ankles.

“I can confidently say, that was fantastic,” comes Chan’s muffled voice, facedown in the mattress as he is.

“Seconded,” says Jisung.

You tilt your head back to see Jisung and Changbin peering down at you, both looking heavy-eyed and swollen-lipped. They look as drained as you feel, and just as satisfied.

“That was a hell of a show, (Y/N)-noona,” Changbin says.

“Glad you liked it, I worked really hard,” you tease. “Does anyone need water? Food?”

“Cuddles,” mumbles Chan.

“Yeah, you have to stay the night, noona, aftercare and cuddling is non-negotiable,” Jisung agrees.

Changbin nods. “We’re even better at that than the sex.”

It shouldn’t be as touching as it is that they want you to stay. But fondness wells up in your chest, soft delight that they seem to enjoy your platonic company just as much as your sexual company. But this bed is disgusting. Changbin needs to wash his sheets, there’s no way you can sleep here in the miasma of lube and bodily fluids.

And besides, the four of you need to talk about all of this at some point. You’re still their classmate, after all, at least until the end of the semester, and an impromptu hookup like this can lead to some real awkward class meetings. Some pillow talk, some cuddles, and some Gatorade are all in order here.

So you smile, wide and honest and mischievous, and stand up on shaky legs to head for the bedroom door. The boys look confused at your seemingly sudden departure, and you cock a thumb at the other bedroom, across the hall.

“Now, Channie, where’s that pillow fort I heard so much about?”

[mackeydoodledoo]

I Only Swim Free: Chapter 1

Pairing: Bela Dimitrescu x (Fem!)Reader

Summary: You’ve done swimming all your life. You’ve gotten to your dream college on a scholarship for your outstanding freestyle technique back in high school. Relationships never crossed your mind however, that was before you met your swim team captain: Bela Dimitrescu.

Warning: Awkwardness, fluff; not really warnings but might as well leave them here

A/N: Another original idea from @su-lilly-reblogs because I’m running out of ideas to make stories for our lovely women. Also, this is a series! Originally this was going to be a one-story thing however, I was moving for this to be a series! So, Enjoy!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

You step out into the floor, all eyes become glued onto you. Although you’ve felt confident in the beginning when you got your acceptance letter and scholarship to attend your dream college and get accepted into the 5-time state champion swim team. What you didn’t expect was your captain. 

“Y/n Y/l/n,” she smiles, “Bela Dimitrescu, captain of the Dimitrescu University Swim Team. They told me that we’re getting a rookie. I’m impressed you got a scholarship too.”

“Well, great to be here,” You lightly chuckle, trying to not gawk too much

“Bela you should have her do initiation,” one of the team members says

All of the other current members began agreeing to the idea as well.

Your heart dropped. 

Initiation? Why haven’t I heard about this one? Is it one of those kinds where it’ll just catch you off guard? 

“Oh don’t worry little dolphin,” Bela smiles, taking notice of your change in expression

“It’s just where you show off your swimming skills,” another one of the members call out, “Nothing to worry about! If you got a scholarship for this, then you must be one of the best swimmers back in high school!”

Oh, well that helps a lot.. But in front of all of these really experienced college-level swimmers? Especially in front of the captain? Gah... Guess I have no choice... Plus, I wasn’t one of the best swimmers in high school.

You place your swim bag onto the bench closest to you, however, reaching into it to grab your swim cap and goggles. You put your swim cap on and begin walking toward one of the stands to leap off of to initiate your swimming style.

“So, what’s your swimming style?” another member asks you

“I only swim free,” You say, monotonous, getting up onto the stand.

I’ve never heard of one of my girls saying she only swims free... She’s already  impressive.

Bela smiles slightly. 

“Just do three laps y/n, ready,” Bela announces

Bela watches you lift your butt toward her. Bela begins blushing. 

Girl’s ripped... God what am I thinking?!

A beep sound goes off and you launch yourself into the water. With ease, your form dives into the water with no resistance. One stroke after the other, Bela watches in awe as your muscles flex each time you lift them above the water. The girls watched you in amazement as to how fast you were able to move in the water, despite how the water would often move against your body whilst swimming.

Impress them y/n. You’re almost there...

You could feel your lungs beginning to burn as you were halfway back around the third lap.

Go beyond your limit y/n....

Your palm plants itself along the wall of where you launched yourself. You take in a deep breath as you almost ran out on the last stretch. You remove your goggles from your eyes and look up; Bela holding out her hand towards you. You grab onto it as she helps you out of the pool.

“That was insane y/n, how’d you do it?” One of the team members asks

“I’ve swam all my life,” You say, chuckling, “Also, my family helped me build muscle for it.”

You look around and your eyes land on Bela, coincidentally hers land on you as well. She gives you a wink before she begins walking away, approaching whom you believed was the coach. You think nothing of it before you’re dragged back further into the pool area by everyone else. You just answer as many questions as you can.

“I also swim freestyle but I don’t think I’d ever be able to swim that fast,” One member states

“Well, I’m not sure how much I can tell you, because it’s also in your willpower to tell yourself to keep going,” You add

“Okay okay give our rookie some air,” the coach comes along, “I’m coach Donna Beneviento. I welcome you to the Dimitrescu University Swim Team. Practice begins tomorrow at 6pm sharp. We practice every Monday and Thursday, same time.”

After practice, your new teammates had made their leave to deal with the academic aspect of college. You step out of the changing room in front of the shower in some shorts and a sports bra. However, right from across you Bela steps out of the shower as well; only wrapped in a towel. You feel your cheeks heat up before the both of you had to forcefully look away from each other. However, you couldn’t help but catch one more glance. You didn’t want to help it at all though. 

“S-sorry Captain,” You say, walking yourself over to the mirrors

"Bela,” she says, “It’s after practice. You may call me Bela after practice.”

“You sure?” you ask, scuffing your hair to look slightly messy

From the mirror’s reflection, you, again couldn’t help but look up to admire Bela’s figure however, you didn’t realize that she had let her towel fall to her ankles. So you were basically seeing her bare naked.

“Oh my god!” You yell, startling Bela

“What?!” She asks, turning to look at you through the mirror

“I’m sorry,” You clear your throat, trying to not make eye contact with her, “I thought I saw something on the mirror.”

You try your best to hide your deep red cheeks from Bela’s view.

“Have you never seen a naked woman?” She asks, finally slipping on some of her clothing

“Not-not really,” You stutter

“Hope that was a good show for you,” Bela teases

Oh shit... She knew I looked at her naked arse didn’t she?...

“Shit,” Bela growls

“What’s the matter?” You ask her, turning to her, finally getting the oxygen you needed to breathe when you noticed her having clothing on

“I thought I packed a hoodie,” She sighs

Your hand immediately dives into your duffle bag and you managed to pull out a hoodie from it.

“See if this’ll fit,” You say, “If it fits, it’s yours.”

You watch her take your band hoodie and put it over her. It was slightly bigger on her however you couldn’t help but crack a smile. 

“What?” Bela smiles, hoisting her backpack over her shoulder

“N-nothing,” You clear your throat once more, “You look good in it is all.”

“You think so?” Bela asks, blushing

“For sure,” You smile

The both of you exit the locker room and begin making your way out to the parking lot. 

“Hey, can I ask you a weird question?” Bela asks

“Sure,” You say

“How did you get so ripped?” She asks

“Oh- I- uhhh...” You begin

Bela giggles at your response to her compliment.

“I- perks of having your family own a gym,” You say, “They practically trained me since wanting to do swimming. If you want to work out with me sometime, I could pull some strings and get you to be a guest with my membership. If that’s something you’d be interested in.”

“I’d like that sometime y/n,” Bela smiles

“By the way, would you wat to- I don’t know- maybe-”

Before you could finish your question, a car pulls up in front of the both of you. You watch the window roll down and see a male in the driver’s seat. 

“Hey babe,” He says, smiling, “Who’s the kid?”

“She’s the newest member to our swim team,” She says, getting into the passenger seat, “Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow after classes y/n.”

Your heart sank as you watched the car drive off... After all of that flirting with her in the locker room... 

If she has a boyfriend.... Then what the absolute hell was that in the locker room? 

However, you don’t linger on it as you get into your own vehicle. Although you had just gotten out of a long practice day, you hook up your music to your car’s radio and input directions to where your family runs the gym you had mentioned to Bela. Surprisingly, the gym your family runs is 10 minutes out of the campus.

“Hey kiddo,” Your dad says as he watches you enter the gym, “How was your first day of practice?” 

“Oh, it was great,” You exaggerate, “Everyone was kind of impressed with my swimming technique. I guess those training sessions with you are beginning to pay off pops.”

“See,” He says, smiling, “Are you going to be home for dinner tonight?” 

“No, I gotta head back to my apartment after this one,” You reply, “I want to get ready for my first day of classes tomorrow.”

You had managed to find an apartment close to campus that was affordable. you weren’t about to find a roommate and live in a building with shitty water supply.

“Fair enough,” He says, “Well, help yourself kiddo. Gym’s nearly empty today.”

He was right; at most there was five people in the entirety of the gym. Normally, it would nearly be packed. You just assumed people had lives outside of the gym. You did too, but you felt something in you that you did not enjoy feeling. You began punching the life out of a punching bag, hoping it would get your frustrations out.

Are we jealous? Why? She has a boyfriend, you shouldn’t be complaining.

You were also confused, why Bela had given you “a show” in the locker room, talking to you nearly all of practice.... You were a rookie and she was the Captain... 

When you had finished your workout, you went back to your apartment. You decided to make a late night snack as you felt famished after workout. You put in your earbuds to try and get your thoughts away from your encounter with Bela’s boyfriend earlier.

“Shower” - Crimson Apple

It gave you a nice chill evening vibe. However, although it helped very little, you still couldn’t help but be confused on what happened to you earlier today. However, once you looked at the time, you finish up your small meal and head off to bed, hoping the day’s classes are able to get your mind off of your confused self. 

Throughout the day, you could only think about what happened yesterday between you and Bela in the locker room through your music. You also couldn’t wait to get in the water after your classes, as the song you were listening to was used in a Swimming sport-themed anime.

“Splash Free” - Style5

You cross the street and come across a castle-like building.

“Is this- the art building?” You ask yourself, “My lord this place is gigantic.”

As you enter the building, you were in awe, even the interior was regal. However, with some modern modifications. Like the elevator, you press the upward arrow button and the elevator doors open. You step in and press the number ‘4′, hence you were going to the fourth floor. Your major is Photography with a minor in Asian studies, concentration in Japanese. As you get out of the elevator, you begin heading to your last class of the day. You were more of a morning person. Thus, you had all of your classes before 6pm. 

Chapter 2

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Five

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 5 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: mentions of male masturbation and boners (lol); strong language; references to suicide, murder, and drug smuggling; abusive parental relationship; mentions of child death in a second flashback; dry humping (smut); 18+ only please!

Word Count: 16,500+

A/N: damn that chapter warning list was a trip to write down lmao

~

Westview, 2023, 1:32 pm

     An uncomfortable silence spread throughout the parked vehicle, daring either of you to take the first step. No one commented on the glares boring into your soul as you drove through the town or how heavily the three of you got patted down by the authorities right outside the state line. You figured it was completely justified - still a little insulting to a bunch of Avengers who literally saved the world three weeks ago. 

With a loud gulp, Bucky was the first to kick open his door and get out of the car. You glanced at Steve from the driver’s seat, biting your lip with a slight quiver as you went over the speech you practiced earlier today. Simple enough, and not too damning. 

Steve’s leg bounced rapidly a few more times before he too kicked open his door, leaving you in silence. You pulled the car keys from the ignition and took in a deep breath. Your legs were numb, the anxiety washing over you in uneven cycles. It was now or never. 

“Wanda, it’s us…”

Her grief seemed to emit from every crack in the sidewalk, every weak beg escaping the townspeople’s throats, every sound from the inanimate objects her powers had continued to turn from gray to red… to green… back to gray. She was crouched on the property, weeds brushing against her black pants and leaving their mark, mascara smudged with each new wet streak. 

Bucky unzipped his jacket, eyes wandering over the deserted plot of land as Wanda tried to control her sobs. She had already caused enough damage, both physical and psychological, the possibility of more government involvement looming over your heads. He carefully walked toward her and wrapped his jacket over her shoulders, all be damned as he held her and began to tear up himself.

“Wanda, you’re okay. You’re safe. We’ll get through this,” Steve sighed, still keeping a respectable distance from her in case she were to run. But you knew her better - she was all out of fight. One fight after another and yet she still lost her love. 

“I did something really bad,” she sobbed, eyes locked on the spot where Vision had just disappeared. Again.

“No, you didn’t know what you were doing,” Steve declared, shocked by the unexpected scoff from Bucky. 

“Save it, Steve. She may not have known in the beginning but she does now. She still did it.”

No one dared correct Bucky or argue with that logic because if anyone knew about causing harm with absolutely no intention, it was obviously him. Taking responsibility - that was the best course of action. 

Once you heard of a radioactive disturbance in a small town just outside the state, the team almost retired completely. So soon after defeating Thanos, so soon after Tony’s death, so soon after Natasha’s death - the team left it up to the proper authorities this time around. 

But the second you watched the broadcast of Wanda’s fantasies, the sitcom her powers were conjuring, her giving birth to her children… all you could do was wait until she opened the barrier. 

“I still did it,” Wanda said, her upper body beginning to rock back and forth as her fingertips brightened with red tendrils of magical grief. 

You shut your eyes and willed yourself not to cry. You had done so much crying these past few years and you were oh, so tired. You couldn’t possibly take another beating. 

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” Bucky spoke, gently turning Wanda’s face and placing both his hands on her cheeks, mindful of the metal appendage he had forgotten to cover with his glove. “You already did it. It can’t be undone. But you can come with us and grieve properly.”

Wanda reached up and placed her hands over his, tears spilling from her eyes faster now. 

“Let us help you grieve.”

This wasn’t an unexpected goodbye. Wanda knew that. She had just voluntarily given up her husband and children - anyone would crumble from that sort of devastation. But now she had been given a proper goodbye, a somewhat proper closure, and the chance to accept it. “Okay.”

You and Steve remained frozen in place even after Bucky helped Wanda stand. Almost as quickly as you thought it, your feet had a mind of their own. You stood next to Steve, taking in the weed infested, rectangular plot of land - the remnants of Wanda’s fantasy still fresh and creating a tiny, refreshing tingle in the middle of your chest. You looked over at Steve and smiled sadly when you saw him inspecting the area as well. 

“They would have had a beautiful life together.”

Steve’s breath hitched as you finished your declaration, looking over at you and nodding slightly. 

“If I had the chance, I would have wanted a nice house with some decent air conditioning. Some weird, front yard garden where I could plant random flowers. A dog that dug them up and acted like it didn’t do it.”

You giggled, thumbnail between your incisors to try and disguise the wider grin forming. Steve kept speaking. 

“Maybe a kid or two. Never actually checked if I could even have kids after the serum.”

You dropped your hand from your face, your attention completely on him now. 

Steve sighed and kicked a rock over to the other side of the property. “I would have wanted a giant, king-sized bed. With ‘his’ and ‘hers’ towels. And every once in a while we would accidentally use the other one’s toothbrush, a secret we would take to the grave.”

Steve wasn’t even looking over at you as he said this. It was like a one-sided confession, rhetorical, not needing an immediate response or expression in return. And you couldn’t believe he was just saying this in front of you - you of all people - the same person who rolled their eyes whenever Steve struggled to comprehend a modern topic or argued with him when he was in one of his moods. He had been distant the last few weeks after returning the stones, only ever noticing you when other people were around to carry a conversation. 

The tingles in your chest were starting to disappear as the plot of land gave its last few magical rumbles. 

“Steve?”

Steve bowed his head, hands in his pockets and breath steady. “Yes, they would have been very happy together.”

You stared at the back of his head as he slowly walked back to the car.  

Present Day, 2025, 8:10 am

     The amount of times you reminded yourself to wake up early as you were drifting off to sleep last night was perhaps more than the number of sheep you had ever counted in your life. A quick reminder here and there as your mind got clogged with pointless information, the number eight behind your eyelids all throughout the night. 

And you did it. In the early hours of the morning, knowing Steve would wake naturally in about twenty minutes, you tip-toed out of bed to use the bathroom. Acting completely normal in case he did in fact hear you before your grand plan - an easy escape route if he decided to repeat his horrible morning ritual on you. But he was such an old man, getting older, losing that serum’s boost. This Steve, Steve who refused to call any movie made after 1945 ‘old’ because he literally didn’t get the chance to see them premiere - yeah, this Steve, was passed out like he had been hit by a truck. 

Bladder empty and teeth brushed, you quietly opened the bathroom door and peeked through. He still lay there on his back, wrapped tightly in his blanket, breathing steadily, and face completely unprotected. 

Could you die? Probably. Would this payback be absolutely satisfying? Hell yeah. 

You grabbed the biggest of your pillows and fisted the corner tightly, twisting it a couple times for a better grip. You signed the cross quickly before lifting the pillow above your head and bringing it down to Steve’s face. 

Steve’s eyes snapped open and he immediately sat up, “WHAT?”

His eyes flew around the room rapidly until they landed on you, angry and challenging.

“Payback!” you yelled, lifting the pillow high again for a second hit. But he reacted quicker, grabbing a pillow himself and swinging it toward you. It slammed you in the torso and practically sent you flying. You landed at the edge of your bed, mouth open in shock and racks of laughter bubbling deep within your chest. You stood quickly and hit him repeatedly, trying your best to also block his counterattack. 

He reached for your hip and pulled you in his bed, rolling the two of you over so he was straddling your hips. He brought the pillow down several more times before accepting your plea of surrender. 

You threw the pillow back to your bed and pouted, “Not a fair fight!”

Steve scoffed, “You caught me off guard! You had all the advantages!”

You shuffled beneath him and froze, hips stuck in a lifted position as you were too embarrassed to move them back down. “Jesus, Steve! How do you even sleep on your stomach with that thing?”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows as he inspected your face and body, looking down at the two of you before he noticed the way he was pressing into your inner thigh. He scrambled off you, a blush spreading from his cheeks and all the way down his chest. He cupped himself and turned away, quickly shuffling for his suitcase and pulling whatever clothes his flustered hands grabbed. He was also repeatedly apologizing. 

“Steve, it’s okay. It just… startled me, is all.”

Steve cleared his throat a couple times before pacing around the room in search of his toiletries. 

You just sat back on your elbows, watching him scurry like a chicken with its head cut off. It was rather amusing. 

“I’m gonna - gonna, take a shower. Uh, I’m sorry again.”

You smirked at the super soldier, “Steve, I’m not mad. It isn’t like I’m new to that kind of thing.”

Steve blushed harder, “But I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

You shrugged your shoulders and dipped lower into his sheets, grabbing and lifting them higher. You snuggled deeper, “Still.”

Steve could feel the speed at which the world rotated and he shut the bathroom door behind him. He leaned against it, breathing deeply until he had all his inhibitions back. 

He didn’t know what was more embarrassing - reacting the way he did or you seeing him react the way he did. It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t seen each other in awkward situations, some borderline lewd. There were plenty of missions that involved heavy flirting with the targets, undercover work in depraved settings, missions where nasty magic was involved and concocted a multitude of inappropriate visions. Hell, everyone had already seen each other naked. It was completely normal, a trustworthy environment, and sometimes necessary. 

As much as he wanted to give into the feeling and award himself some proper alone time, he refused to act upon it. He would regret it later once the stress pushed down harder than usual, but it just wasn’t appropriate in his right mind to masturbate with you in the other room. 

Why did he have to be such a good and honorable man?

He busied himself with washing his hair and scrubbing away any evidence of sleep from his face. Steve liked sleeping on his stomach, face smooshed in the pillows and arms extended to his sides. It allowed for more comfortable movement, more ways to stretch his hips, just overall comfort for his massive shoulders. Less pressure on the lungs, too. And unlike the enthusiastic yet almost mean accusation that he couldn’t possibly enjoy that position because of his… well, his dick, Steve would choose that position over sleeping on his back any day. But that morning, his body had decided to betray him in more ways than one. One, he was open to attack because he was on his back. And two, whatever dream he was having caused his morning wood to seem larger this morning.

He had washed up quickly, more time spent out of the shower where he fixed his hair and combed his beard. He thought about shaving it for the rehearsal dinner or wedding, but it gave him a more rugged look - like he was all tough and no funny business. As ridiculous as it sounded, the beard allowed him to lean into the criminal act easier, build a fake personality that already had your father eating out of his hand. 

Opening the bathroom door and having to face the music, Steve was almost certain you would continue to tease him. But you were already munching on the breakfast you had ordered, shoveling hash browns in your mouth as you swiped the mouse through pages and pages of intel. You didn’t even look up as he crossed the room to grab a pair of pants he had forgotten to pick up during his quick escape. That settled his nerves almost instantly and he was dressed and settled next to you soon after.

You worked in silent cooperation for a long while, handing each other files and passing phone calls like you had during every other mission before. Except now it was more comfortable, pleasant, and kind - the soft sounds from the television in the corner, the humming of the desktop, the soft hums of recognition whenever you two showed each other something. You didn’t even bother with what happened in the morning, if it really was anything at all, because you honestly found it normal. You were more focused on the conversation you had last night. 

Steve had offered to kill your father if you seriously couldn’t. Just thinking about his offer caused your stomach to turn. Because yes, you wanted him dead. You wanted to snap his neck in ten different places and feed him to scavengers. You wanted to steal his business from under him and tear it apart, bit by bit, and keep him alive long enough to see you do it. You wanted to see the look in his eyes when you revealed that you double-crossed him. And as the day inched closer, the overwhelming feeling of shame pushed down on your shoulders and swallowed your mind. Once your father was dead, you and Steve would never find true peace. His men would always follow you, probably take you down at the local coffee shop you and Peter frequented. 

The thought of dying in front of Peter caused a lump to form in your throat. No, you wouldn’t do that to your friends. You couldn’t do this to Steve. 

But you had to. Because even though your life will never be yours after this mission, you had to save the countless others your father was sure to touch and ruin. 

But was your life ever truly yours?

Steve’s voice pulled you from your clouded mind. 

“Huh?” 

“I asked if you wanted the last piece of fruit.” 

You looked at Steve then at the small piece of watermelon in the bowl, then back at Steve. He had a pen in between his teeth, one eyebrow cocked, and slightly puffy eyes due to the beer heavy sleep he had last night. You looked away as quickly as you could and stared back at the fruit, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. 

Ridiculous, you thought. Just looking at Steve had flustered you, squeezing your stomach in pleasurable pulses you hadn’t felt since high school. “No, no. You can have it,” you said, hoping your voice wouldn’t crack. 

Ridiculous. 

Steve watched you with a funny smile but he took your word and scooped up the last piece for himself. 

No, you thought again, this man will not give me freaking butterflies. 

It wasn’t like it was odd. Steve had you flustered countless times before, but it was never quite as tingly as it was now. You suddenly wanted to facetime Wanda and rant about these weird feelings; you wanted to curl in on yourself and squeal; you wanted to -

    “He’s what?”

You sat on your knees and leaned over the back of the couch, chin resting on your folded arms as you watched Steve pace around the common room. He was tugging at his dress shirt repeatedly, desperately trying to attach cufflinks without additional help. Sam sat right beside you, in the same position, snickering each time Steve cursed under his breath. 

“He’s nervous,” Bucky smirked, arm holding out Steve’s tie for the past five minutes. Steve had paced beside him various times already, completely oblivious. 

Steve groaned and readjusted his collar, snapping his head toward the three of you. “I’m not nervous.”

“You’re sweating buckets, man,” Sam pointed out, one of his hands discreetly opening up his camera and switching to video. 

“What if she doesn’t like me?” 

Bucky threw his head back and cackled, choosing to grab Steve and steady him to finally put that damn tie around his neck. “Same old, Steve. Can’t accept that a dame would ever possibly like you back.”

“Hey, Steve don’t worry about it,” you started, shooting Steve a sympathetic look. Steve glanced back at you, expression swiftly changing due to your kind tone. “... when I was in high school,-”

Steve released a loud grunt, rolling his eyes and stepping away from Bucky’s hands. 

Sam rolled over and clutched his stomach as he laughed, pulling you into him. The two of you shook from your laughs together. 

“Guys,” Bucky warned, reaching for Steve in a ‘grabby’ motion. “Give him a break.”

Steve reluctantly stood beside Bucky again, head tilted upward as he tried wrapping the tie back around his neck. 

None of you heard the entrance of Thor and his brother, too busy with bullying, laughter, or moderating. 

“Did we miss all the fun?”

You shot up from the ground, kicking Sam away as you rushed across the floor and stumbled over the rug. “Thor!”

You rushed into his arms and he gripped you tightly, swinging you around and loud laughter matching yours. 

“Now, why wasn’t I greeted in a similar manner?” Loki questioned, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You pulled your face from Thor’s shoulder, “Oh, you want this too?”

You jumped back onto the floor and were about to jump into Loki’s arms, but he held his own out, stopping you. “It’s too late. It’s not the same.”

“Piss baby,” you quipped, rushing behind Thor for protection when Loki’s mouth dropped in surprise. 

“Can everyone stop what they’re doing real quick and tell Steve his date is going to go well tonight?”

You rolled your eyes at Bucky’s favor, but he just raised his eyebrows, challenging you to disobey the order. 

“The Captain has a date? Are they okay?”

Loki and you shared a comical gasp. 

Steve gaped, “Now, what in the world does that mean, Thor?”

Thor raised his hands in defense, “I’m just asking if she truly knows what she’s getting herself into! Don’t try and tell me she has no idea who you are.”

Steve was back to groaning nonstop. Bucky threw his hands up in the air, “I ask one thing of you guys. One thing.”

You stomped over to Steve and ripped the half-tied tie from his neck and smoothed down his collar. You patted down his shoulders and the front of his shirt, and gripped his shoulders to straighten his back. 

“Now,” you smiled up at him. The breath caught in your throat for a second, the blue of his eyes shining under the ceiling lights and the pink of his cheeks spreading slowly. You let out a tiny sigh, heart fluttering faintly from the small grin he was giving you. He looked so innocent, a renaissance subject created from light oils, signs of true aging showing in his forehead. “Whatever date you got planned, she’s gonna love it.”

Steve relished in the feeling of your palms pressed against his chest for a few moments before he nodded at your declaration. He stepped back and smoothed down his shirt. “Wish me luck?”

A chorus of ‘good luck’s sounded as Steve found his keys and shared a goodnight hug with Sam and Bucky. They both jokingly reminded him to use protection. 

You watched Steve leave, a newfound bounce in his step as he walked away. Your words had been so simple, so cliche, and yet he had dropped any visible nerves as he walked out the door. You weren’t the best motivational speaker, that was for sure, but the proof of at least an ounce of motivation was there. Maybe your words held a hidden meaning. Maybe.

You thought about him picking up this random woman, wine and dining her, kissing her cheek as he said his goodbyes at the end of the night. It was somewhat adorable to think about, but also weird.

Before you could dive more into the strange feeling, Thor’s voice sounded. 

“Should we order pizza or chinese?”

It’s like that snapped you from your trance, because next thing you knew you were back to your playful self, sprinting across the room and into Loki’s arms. 

     You cherished the slight, pleasant churn of your stomach as you watched him happily munch on the fruit. 

Okay, it was normal to have a tiny crush on your mission partner. God knows how many times you wanted to jump Thor’s bones whenever you were undercover together. A crush was normal, completely natural and expected. 

Except you had never gotten so much sane joy from a simple question of whether you wanted the last piece of fruit. 

You blinked a few times and shook off any trace of overthinking devils, grabbing at random files to occupy your mind for a while. After about fifteen more minutes of comfortable silence, you spoke.

“So, we think Ramirez is gonna get straight up murdered?”

Steve snorted, filing through a pile of papers Torres had delivered this morning. “I wouldn’t put it like that, but sure.”

“But it’s just a theory at this point. We can’t just go in guns blazing without enough proof.”

“And if there is proof? Do we protect him? The original mission was to arrest all four men.”

You groaned, “I don’t know. He’s never done me wrong.”

“Personal feelings aside, Y/N.”

“Ugh, fine. But I’m not gonna be happy about it.”

Steve squinted at you with a playful smile. “You’d rather just arrest the bad ones, huh?”

“Obviously what Ramirez is doing is illegal and it’s horrific to think of what might be happening behind the scenes on his side, but either he’s serious or he’s been putting on this good guy act for his whole life.”

“Leaning towards the first option?”

Shrugging, you leaned toward your computer screen and scrolled through the massive list of emails. “It’s what my gut tells me, but ehh.”

There was one random email from Maribel, but random only meant coded. Reading it over a couple times, humming to yourself in concentration, you finally cracked the code she was trying to send. 

“Maribel says Ramirez acquired some land in Mexico… lots of it.”

Steve looked up from the files, “Any significance?”

“It’s probably for growing the products.”

Steve quickly typed key words that would alert him of any new transactions in the past few months.  “Who’s on the title?”

“Just him. And his oldest daughter. My father must know, right?”

Steve leaned back in his chair, releasing a heavy sigh as he thought about what this could mean. “Ramirez acquiring more land means more of Ramirez’s product. A three-way partnership would be split unevenly if he utilizes the land.”

“Make sure Bucky alerts us of any business my father might have with realtors authorized to work in that area.”

It functioned like this for another hour, the two of you sharing bits of information every ten minutes or so. 

“Torres sent us an update on White.”

You rubbed at your strained eyes, “What does he say?”

Steve’s eyebrows raised, “That he’s been in the country for much longer than his passport says.”

You stood from your seat and rushed to look at the same screen Steve was reading from. “He traveling under a fake name?”

“Customs says he returned to Germany,” Steve stated, highlighting a paragraph on the screen for you to easily read. “Four weeks ago.”

It was your turn to snort out a laugh, “Oh, he’s so setting up an alibi.”

Steve nodded in agreement, “Looks like it.”

You slapped his shoulder lightly, voice raising an octave. “Look at us! Piecing together the puzzle!”

“We still got a few more pieces to attach before you go getting all cocky.”

You chuckled and decided to take a break. You speed walked over to your bed and plopped down, the mountain of pillows already relieving your tense muscles. “Hey, has my sister’s plane landed yet?”

Steve glanced at you quickly before pulling up Bucky’s morning emails. “Uh, landed about an hour ago.”

“She at the estate?”

He shrugged, “Torres hasn’t sent an update. Just her profile, hold up.”

You waved him off, a nonverbal way of telling him you seriously couldn’t care less. “I haven’t spoken to her since I joined you guys. You don’t gotta give me her origin story.”

“That long?” Steve questioned. 

You placed a pillow beneath your head, body horizontal and facing Steve. “We were never that close. I’ve got tons of half-siblings. Most of them were adults when I was born, anyway.”

With just a few words exchanged, Steve realized he had just stepped through your metaphorical door of reminiscing. So he stood to lay in his own bed, the simple action of giving you attention enough to keep you talking, he hoped. “Were you alone a lot? Growing up, I mean.”

You watched as Steve also placed a pillow beneath his head, “There were always kids around. Kids of the maids, cousins, neighbors.”

“A full house, sounds like.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, a small smile forming as you thought about old friends. “I remember this one time, we all ran into Ramirez when we were trying to get to one of the playrooms. But he grabbed me quickly and told me to not go in there.”

“Was it a threat?”

You grinned at his protective tone, “No, it was a warning. There were some really bad men in the other room. It was me and a few other girls. He told us to run back to my room and lock the door until he came to get us.”

Steve couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation as to why Ramirez joined the drug game. Sure, the function and presence of cartels had changed drastically over the last forty years, but it didn’t explain why he remained involved. In the eighties, the drug game was highly televised and spoken about, but the cartel violence was not as strong. Nowadays, and not even you could give a proper explanation, the violence was astronomical and basically advertised as something to expect when visiting certain countries. This was the mob game now, freaking Al Capone or the goddamn Godfather, absolutely meant to frighten whoever dare join or leave. For Ramirez to still be one of the big players even with that many internal changes, to be a good person in the middle of such hell, didn’t make any sense. 

“He protected you.”

You clutched the pillow closer to your chest, the memory a good one even if it was weird. “Oh, yeah. Those guys he was warning us about were no angels.”

Steve gave an awkward smile, “I feel like I know more about your childhood than you know mine.”

“I’m all ears if you wanna tell me about little, asthmatic Steve Rogers.”

He raised his index finger at you, “Hey, I was more than just my asthma.”

“Oh, excuse me. I totally forgot about your scoliosis.” 

The pillow under his head was now flying across the small distance to your face. You shrieked and sent it back. 

“Stop bullying!” Steve laughed.

You shielded your face in case he decided to continue the pillow war. “What? I’ve got my health problems, too! I just don’t have the serum to help me out.”

But he didn’t throw it again. He repositioned himself on his back and placed both hands beneath his head, gracing the ceiling with a grin. “I remember this one time, Bucky and I were around eleven-years old, and I had this really bad asthma attack. Bucky just freaked out. I was choking and he was just holding me, screaming for help -”

You blinked, “This is really depressing, what are you-”

“-and! Bucky threw himself into a full-blown panic attack. So we were both choking on air, but I was starting to laugh at him freaking out, which only made him choke harder. We ended up throwing up.”

You were silent at the end of his short story, mouth open in a wide smile. “I don’t know what else to say other than that was one of the greatest stories I’ve ever heard.”

Steve rolled over, a literal twinkle in his eye. “See? Don’t interrupt me before I get to the good parts.”

This simple moment catapulted the realization that Steve hasn’t spoken to you this much in two years, to the front of your mind. In these past four days, you had spoken like you had never stopped, like it was never awkward, like you two seriously didn’t need another person in the room to simply converse about what you wanted for breakfast. Yet here you were, more words exchanged in the past four days than you ever thought possible. 

After the fallout, you didn’t say one full sentence to him for seven months. Seven months. He hadn’t attempted a conversation with you either, but you actively avoided him like he was infected. Hell, he even moved out of the compound and into his own apartment to get away from you for most of the day. After your forced reconciliation, the awkward apologies, you still didn’t force any open conversation. But it was easier, lighter, and most conversations involved mission information. 

Talking this much now was so easy, so simple, like you didn’t need to force the comfort - there was already full comfort, a sense of community with this man. 

He was so different from when he insulted you while you were packing, annoyed by the fact that you pried too much. And now you were prying into his childhood and him yours without a lick of annoyance on either side. 

“We both had eventful childhoods, didn’t we?”

“What, with both of us in the middle of a war?” Steve asked, a genuine look on his face.

“Guess our wars never really left us, huh?”

There was a knock at the door. You weren’t expecting Torres again today. Steve muttered ‘room service, maybe’ under his breath as you went to open it. You were startled to find Scott standing outside, two massive suitcases in his hand. 

“Oh my god, I forgot you were arriving today!”

Scott scoffed, “Am I not as important as your other friends?”

You laughed and helped him inside, “Stop! You’re one of my favorite bugs!”

“Ha ha. Very funny. I’ll leave right now if you two decide to pile on me instead of each other.” Scott placed one of the suitcases near the door but the other at the edge of your bed. 

“We’ll be nice,” Steve promised, standing to greet Scott with a hug. 

“You better. Catch me up, please?” 

The suitcase contained your outfits for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding. Whoever was in charge of costumes definitely went all out, hoping their work would make the big fight the most fashionable. Steve was given a perfectly tailored suit, navy blue and velvet. It was lined with vibranium, inside pockets covered with it. That would certainly be handy if you were forced to walk through metal detectors - vibranium couldn’t be detected. His suit for the rehearsal dinner was a lot simpler, the custom black and white aesthetic, but still protected with vibranium. 

Your clothes were certainly not styled to match Steve’s, giving you a sense of individuality. It was perfect really - it would allow you to leave Steve’s side, if necessary, when the mission called for you to split up. Your rehearsal dinner outfit was two parts: a black, velvet long-sleeved shirt, slight turtleneck, and gold cuffs. It was joined by a long gold skirt, high-waisted, the front shorter than the back and sides more curled than ruffled. You would have to wear tights underneath, but it was beautiful. Vibranium was also stitched in for added protection. Your dress for the actual wedding, however, was a total knockout. Red, spaghetti strap, tight on top but loose once it reached your hips, a long slit on the left side. They were even kind enough to give you a pair of heels to match. 

Yeah, Steve was Captain America and his appearance will shock the guests, but your attire will definitely be the second topic in gossip. 

Scott was filing through the same papers you and Steve had reviewed earlier, a bowl of potato chips at his side. And it was peaceful - you and Steve even had the chance to nap. 

“So, you’re gonna see Jackeline at the rehearsal dinner?”

You wiped the remnants of your nap from your face and groaned as you stretched, “She’ll probably be busy tomorrow when we go for breakfast, so yeah.”

Scott shifted uncomfortably in his seat, eyes practically attached to the computer screen. “And… she’s the one getting married?”

His tone started to worry Steve, “Yes, Scott. You good?”

Scott piled a handful of potato chips in his mouth, finger clicking the mouse every few seconds. His eyes were now wide, blinks forgotten. “Jackeline Vega. Jackeline.”

Steve ignored him now, “Hey, why isn’t your last name Vega?”

As much as you wanted to share about how and why you changed your last name, Scott’s demeanor interested you more. “Changed it when I became an American citizen - Scott, what’s up?”

He let out a tiny squeak, swallowing his snack quickly. “And she’s your father’s favorite?”

You rolled your eyes, “Mmm.”

Scott released a huge huff of air, shoulders falling as he raised his voice and turned the monitor to face you. “Think he knows anything about this?”

The photograph was blurry because it was enhanced, but you could still make out the face of a sister you hadn’t seen in years. Older, still with teenage features obviously, and tossed on what looked like a church alter-

Steve's eyes widened, “Is she…?”

Scott finished his sentence for him, “Fucking a priest?”

You covered your mouth in shock, “Oh my god, she’s fucking a priest!”

Bent on the literal church altar, skirt bunched around her hips, head thrown back in ecstasy and face in full view. And the damned priest, in between her legs and under the eyes of god. 

“That’s why I asked!”

Steve clutched at his chest, head thrown back as he howled, “I think you were wrong about your sister.”

Now your eyes were glued to the screen, “Oh, I was fuck all from correct!”

Scott cleared his throat, “Is the priest… her fiance?”

Steve came down from his laugh attack, “I highly doubt that, Scott.”

“This is actually really damning evidence.”

You grinned at Scott, “For what? Painting her out to look like the most sinful whore? I might just congratulate her.”

Steve stared at you, judging almost. “For fucking a priest?”

“For proving me wrong. She’s not so innocent after all,” you responded, cheeks strained from how wide you were smiling. 

“Clearly. This is… actually badass,” Scott admitted, turning the monitor back to him.

You teased, singing your next words. “Don’t let the Lord and Savior hear that.”

Steve glared, “Y/N.”

You leaned away from him, “What? Anyway, that’s gotta be one the worst sins to commit, right?”

Steve’s expression contorted from annoyance to disbelief. “We’ve literally killed people.”

“Pfft, but we’re not fucking priests. Right?”

Scott answered, nodding quicker than he needed to. “Right.”

“You’re literally asking that?”

You pressed your lips into a fine line and tilted your head at Steve. “Steve?”

He glared at you for a long moment before slowly shaking his head. “I’m not fucking any priests.”

Your response was immediate, “Alright! I gotta hand it to her, though. Who took the photo?”

Scott went back to fishing through the emails. “Some sleazy magazine that never got around to actually printing these out.”

“Someone paid them off. Or killed them.”

“I wonder who,” you replied sarcastically. 

Steve continued, “You honestly think he would support her doing that?”

You shrugged and scurried back over to your unmade bed. “Not my problem.”

Scott interjected, “Okay, okay. How’s tomorrow gonna work?”

Steve answered first, “Well, we’re driving out around eight.”

You hummed in agreement, reaching over to unplug your phone from the charger. “Scott, you’ll just ride on one of our backs as we walk through the estate.”

“I kind of want to ride Y/N’s back this time.”

You snorted, “Now that doesn’t sound sexual at all.”

He hid his face in his hands, “You know, I heard it once I said it.”

“Course you did.”

Steve jumped back into the conversation, Scott’s embarrassment seeming to grow under the weird tension. “Then you’ll hop off and plant the bugs wherever you feel like they’re needed.”

“Easy peasy!” you cheered. 

“Bucky and Sam gonna meet us Friday night?”

Steve nodded, “That’s what they said.” He looked over at you, scrolling through your phone and already smiling at something you found funny. He cleared his throat to get your attention. “You know they can be out here in under an hour if we seriously need them.”

You glanced over at Steve, his sincerity greatly appreciated. “I know. But all my faith is in Scott here.”

Scott moaned quietly, “Oh… no, let’s not put all the faith in me because I can’t handle that responsibility.”

You propped yourself up onto your elbows, “You saying I can’t trust you?”

“No, no! That’s not what I’m saying at all-!”

Steve rolled his eyes and looked at the man, a sheen of nervous sweat starting to form on his forehead. “Scott.” 

Scott lowered his hands from his chest, “O-oh. She’s messing with me, huh?”

You chuckled and laid back down. “You’re so easy.”

The easygoing atmosphere for the next few hours almost had you believing you were on vacation, away from the bad guys and space aliens for just a moment. Almost like you weren’t in the middle of a drug war, a mob business, the literal daughter of a king. Scott had that effect, his personality such a sweet refresher and such a contrast to every soul in the compound. 

Thor and Peter were also sweethearts and fun was always expected when they were around, but Scott had this different vibe. Maybe it was because he was relatively new, or that he had a child, or that he hadn’t suffered the same five years as everyone else did. Like he wasn’t yet tainted.  

“You guys mind if I run a job inside a job?”

Your head snapped up at Scott’s crazy question, “You stealing something?”

To run a job inside a job was risky. There was no exact plan to keep both missions balanced, to somehow rank the other more important. You prayed it wasn’t something insane. 

Scott chuckled under his breath, already grabbing his jacket and suitcase by the door. “No, I’m not stealing something. Hank needs me to speak to some guy he’s doing negotiations with about a space for a new lab headquarters.”

Steve tilted his head, “In Northern California?”

“Nah, the dude is vacationing out here for the time being. The lab will be in San Francisco again.”

You squinted at him, still cautious. “Where you meeting him?”

“Some nice Italian restaurant an hour out.”

Steve spoke before you did, similar thoughts running through his mind. “You check with Torres? We don’t know who might randomly show up there.”

Scott tried his best to reassure you, “Yeah, he said they’re following every car that leaves the premises and travels more than thirty minutes away. None of Ernesto’s men have been spotted further up north.”

You sighed. You didn’t want another member of your team to venture out in this area, let alone this goddamn state, without your eyes on them. You were protective, the proximity of your outside world with the one you had spent ten years building too suffocating of a reality. 

Still, you told Scott goodbye with a steady voice. “Then enjoy your dinner, Scott.”

His voice picked up again, that childish and upbeat feeling wrapping you around his finger. “You guys wanna come with? I’m sure you’re sick of icky hotel food.”

Steve waved him off, “It’s actually not that bad-”

“Breadsticks. Garlic pasta. More breadsticks.”

You laughed, “That sounds nice, Scott but we can stay here-”

“Three-cheese pastas.”

“Scott, you can try all you want but-”

“Unlimited breadsticks.”

You shared a look at Steve, puckering your lips at the suggestion. 

“.... We’ll sit far away from your table, okay?”

Scott opened the hotel door and started sprinting down the hallway. “I knew I could persuade you with that! C’mon!”

     California at night was a death trap. Potholes on every stretch of asphalt, construction halted for who knows how long, random opossums lingering in the shadows just waiting to get hit by tires. It was prettier during the day - less of a ‘lead me into this forest, yes, kill me’ vibe. 

You chilled in the backseat while Scott drove you guys to the restaurant. You had texted Bucky where you were planning to go, the message activating the group text chain. 

Peter: it’s Wednesday! Who died?

Wanda: she’s literally texting us

Peter: Y/N, you won???

Bucky: fuck do I owe the fucking spider money?

Peter: pay up dude

Y/N: tf Bucky? You bet against me?

      “You sure you two are good?”

The restaurant looked quiet considering it was a Wednesday night, but it was still crowded. There was a short line extending out the door and a… bouncer. You sucked in a breath and smacked Scott in the chest once you were out of the car. 

“Thought you said this was a restaurant?”

Scott rubbed his chest, a look of disbelief spreading across his face. “Restaurant slash bar!”

“We eating with the Italian mob now? I can only handle one mob at a time, Scott.”

You nodded rapidly, pointing at Steve. “I agree with him!”

“Not every place has bad guys!”

You groaned and reluctantly stood at the back of line, pulling Steve’s hat lower on his forehead. It wasn’t like people couldn’t take one long, hard look at him and not know who he was, anyway. 

“Can you guys just… enjoy a night out?”

“While on a mission?”

“While living your long lives. God, Y/N, you getting old already?”

Your mouth dropped, “I’m twenty-six and I’m not complaining about a nice dinner, Scott.” You pointed at the bouncer. “I’m worried about the fact that our ID’s are gonna be checked.”

Scott’s mouth formed an ‘O’. “Yeah, that.”

“Next.”

You shot Steve a worried look but handed the bouncer your driver’s license. He just looked at the date of birth and moved you along. “Next.”

Scott handed him his, doing his best to smile proudly while the bouncer scanned him up and down. “Next.”

“See? Wasn’t so hard,” Scott joked, standing next to you in the far corner of the entrance. 

You rolled your eyes, “Wait.”

The bouncer took one look at Steve’s ID and gasped. Steve looked anywhere but the bouncer’s eyes, his bottom lip suffering the abuse of his incisors. 

“Cap-Captain?”

Steve gave a sheepish grin, lowering his cap further. “Uh, yeah.”

“Enjoying your day?”

You pinched your nose. 

“Would like it a lot more if you could lead us to a table with as much privacy as you can offer.”

You had to hand it to Steve for taking advantage of situations like this. 

The bouncer agreed immediately, speaking with the manager and promising discretion. The manager said it was no problem, that it was the least he could do for you guys after you brought his son back to him after those rough five years. 

The restaurant offered a somewhat real Italian setting, awarding their guests with as much real scenery and architecture it could. You could only compare it to the Venetian in Vegas as you had never actually been to Italy, but the live band and garlic smell was enough to transport you. 

The lights were low, older couples enjoying the food and wine, and there was a small bar near the back of the restaurant. It wasn’t really a place for some shady business, but years of experience let you know that wasn’t always the case. It was second nature to eye women reaching into their purses, only to pull out a pack of gum. Second nature to wince at the sound of a loud laugh cutting through the quiet atmosphere. 

As promised, you were led to a more private area of the restaurant, closer to the bar than to the band. 

“Go run the job, Scott. We’ll just be enjoying our unlimited breadsticks,” you said, letting out a heavy and relaxed sigh as you settled into the private booth. 

“That hat isn't really hiding those broad shoulders, Cap,” Scott laughed, slapping Steve on the back.

Steve slid into the same booth, ignoring the completely empty seat across from you. “Thanks, Scott. I’m aware.”

You tried to hide your blush as you squeezed deeper in your seat. Scott noticed though, side eyeing Steve who was none the wiser. “You know, I told him that he should have used those facial changing things SHIELD used to have.”

Steve grabbed the offered utensils and started unwrapping them from their napkins. 

“What are we if not superheroes who think a baseball cap and glasses hide our identities?” you teased, shooting Scott a quick wink. 

Steve answered almost triumphantly, “Uh, Superman?”

You giggled and grabbed the napkin he had unwrapped for you. “I’d argue Thor is more like Superman, but okay.”

“How am I not more like Superman? What-”

“Uh, guys? I see the dude so I’m gonna go. You two enjoy your meal,” Scott interrupted, running off to a booth located toward the middle of the restaurant. 

You sat for a few awkward moments before you squinted and looked at Steve, who was sitting to your left and way too close. “Are we annoying?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like,” you spoke with your hands, “you and I bicker a lot because we love to annoy each other but you think it gets on other people’s nerves?”

Steve chuckled, rubbing his shoulder with yours. “Do you really care if it does?”

That blush of yours was starting to feel warmer. “No, just wondering if you felt that way.”

He shrugged, “I quite like our relationship.”

“Oh,” you smiled, looking down at your lap.  “I quite liked it more a few years back but you know.” 

He immediately tensed, body leaning away from you as if you were burning him. You shut your eyes and shook your head. “Sorry, that was low.”

He sighed deeply, “No, I deserve it. I’ll always deserve it.”

You took a risk and reached for his hand, squeezing gently. The kind gesture seemed to calm him, and he looked back at you. “I still shouldn’t have said it.”

He accepted that, and handed you the menu. 

The hotel food was grand, it did its job of filling you up and providing the necessary nutrients, but there was just something about the carbs in pasta and bread. It ignited the food critic inside you, because now you were cursing the hotel chef and dreading having to order breakfast in the morning. No, dinner. You were having breakfast with your father tomorrow. 

Scott was busy conducting his own business, bluetooth turned off but still glancing over his shoulder once in a while to check on you guys. Each time he did, he felt butterflies flutter in his breadstick-filled stomach. It was the first time he had seen the two of you so carefree, let alone with each other, and it was the most refreshing thing in the world. 

Steve was in the middle of telling another childhood story, his main plate already finished and practically licked clean. But the unlimited breadsticks were coming out by the pound, a new stick in each of your hands every five minutes. 

“I swear, she loved Bucky more than me!”

You covered your mouth and chewed, careful to not let anything through because of your giggle fit. “Steve! Your mother did not!”

Steve wiped at his under eye, clutching his chest as he continued explaining. “Bucky was always around and my mom would just linger every second she wasn’t working!”

“Bet she loved him.”

“See?”

“No, I mean she must have loved him like her own! Bucky was your best friend, your only friend. She probably thought of him like an angel sent from God!” you clarified. 

Steve smiled wider at your cheesy explanation. They were happy memories, joyful ones that he would often think about while writing or drawing. 

He continued with a soft confession. “I really wish I could see her again.”

You leaned your temple on your palm, “From everything you’ve shared with me, she sounds lovely.”

“She would have loved you.” The blush was back, and so was Steve’s, almost like those words were supposed to be kept in the back of his head. He cleared his throat. “God, she was so destroyed when Bucky first got his orders.”

“Was Bucky scared?”

“Scared? Absolutely fucking terrified. We talked about running away and changing our names so he didn’t have to go.”

The draft was such a horrible practice. The fact that men still had to enlist and hope no ‘necessary’ war was upon them. It was quite reassuring to know most of those men wouldn’t have to see battle today, they were given a choice, and there were agencies that managed people who could, like the Avengers. 

“Steve…”

Steve just hummed softly, “Life in the forties, am I right?

Your voice also got quieter. “Why didn’t you run away?”

Steve huffed out a laugh, swallowing the last of his bread. “We tried. Got all the way to the edge of town before Bucky’s dad wrung us both back to kick our asses.”

Almost out of instinct, you gripped his hand again. You rubbed soothing circles into his knuckles, knuckles that hadn’t seen hand-to-hand combat in so long. There wasn’t much danger in the world nowadays, just small missions here and there. It wasn’t like the team was itching for another alien invasion. But these periods of well needed rest were odd, periods where bruises completely healed up and little pockets of weight were gained. Steve’s knuckles were soft, only having seen the ends of paintbrushes for a long while. 

 “...Where’s your mother?”

His voice snapped you from your thoughts, and you had to repeat the question in your own head a couple times. 

“It’s not a happy story.”

There wasn’t much of a story anyway. 

“But is it a story you need to get off your chest?”

Steve didn’t want to push too hard. The long pause in your relationship definitely didn’t soften this blow, and it only added to the strings of resistance. If you decided not to tell Steve about this, Steve would have to accept it. If anything, this was one of the toughest questions to ask someone when all you’ve been doing is ignoring them for two years. 

“Not really much to get rid of.”

He nodded, only a slight hint of disappointment laced within his words. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Natasha was the only one with any knowledge of your mom. There was never an actual moment in which you freely spoke of her - inserting her likeness, her person, back into some alternate and fucked-up reality - you kept her legacy dead. It was obvious she hadn’t enjoyed this part of her life, no doubt it absolutely killed her to leave you trapped in it, so keeping her dead, even in conversation, was a favor. 

But one drunken night and you were showing Natasha the one photo you had of her, stuffed deep in your wallet and crinkled beyond repair. Her black hair to her shoulders, lip liner a darker shade than her lipstick, hands intertwined behind her back as she arched forward in a playful tilt, shooting the camera a smile that was stuck around the word she was saying as the candid was taken. There was no recorded voice but you had a record of her movement, frozen in time.     

Steve’s sincerity grasped you by the literal roots of your hair, because next thing you knew you were spilling the first thought you had. 

“She was twenty-three. Working as a real estate agent, very beautiful, and she was engaged. To an American.”

Steve chuckled around his champagne glass, “Was that bad?”

You grinned at that, like he was already fully and deeply invested in your story. “Not necessarily. But everyone knew she was taken.”

“And your father?”

“He wanted to buy some houses. Saw her, wanted her, tried persuading her into going on a date. Nothing really worked, she didn’t accept his money or gifts.”

Steve fumbled over his next words. “Did she eventually?”

“No, but her brother did. My father didn’t know it was her brother, so he thought she was accepting them. Got mad when she still refused his advances.”

He was digesting this little by little. Steve had heard horror stories of girls he grew up with, forced to marry at a young age when they were caught in a passionate moment with a man, or when they ended up pregnant. Bucky and his mother had always instructed him to treat women with respect, to never intentionally or accidentally ruin their reputation, to protect and use his voice to stand up for them. And although women weren’t getting frisky with him when he was all but ninety pounds at the ripe age of twenty, that didn’t stop Steve from exchanging a few words and punches with men who had no right.  “How did they end up together?”

You shrugged, reaching over for another breadstick. “No one knows. He invited her to a party one day and she didn’t come back for a whole week. Next thing her family knows she’s engaged to my father and no longer with the love of her life.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yeah, her family had no choice but to accept that. Her poor fiance, though.” 

“Where is he now?”

Steve had this weird hope that the fiance may still be alive somewhere, waiting for your mother to find him. But that was just the hopeless romantic emerging. 

You sighed deeply, “My father told my mother he killed him. My mother believed him.”

“So, he’s still alive? He didn’t hurt him?”

“Apparently he’s still kicking, yeah. But my mom became severely depressed from that lie.”

The restaurant felt colder and the air became thinner. Steve didn’t want his next thought to be true. “She didn’t...?”

You shook your head quickly, “No, she found out he was alive.” Even if you weren’t witness to it, you could still imagine your mother charting the areas she would have to run and swim through to get away. Wasn’t like it was a heartfelt thought, but the mere fact that she had that much determination to risk her life for love, it was somewhat therapeutic to think about. Like it was genuinely satisfying to imagine her defying your father. Still, your face drooped as you gave Steve the sad conclusion. “She didn’t even make it across the border before he had her killed for betraying him.”

His face fell in time with yours, “Fuck.”

“She left me with Maribel’s mother. But my father found me and told me she had an accident. Didn’t find out the truth until I was thirteen.”

“I’m so sorry.”

You shoved his shoulder with yours, a light chuckle cutting through the sad moment. “Not like you had a hand in this, Steve. It’s just my life.”

You were used to Steve’s generosity, his ability to make any person feel a part of his family - you had been on the receiving end of his sincerity for the past week now. But as you held his gaze, his body seemingly towering over yours, your chest flushed with such warmness, a tranquil promise of safety. He leaned forward, breath hitting your cheeks, hand still gripping yours. 

“Not anymore. We’ll end this, Y/N. I promise you, we’ll end this.”

You took a risk and rested your forehead on his, his continuous promise still causing your stomach to twist pleasurably. “How’d we get so sad all of a sudden?” You pushed away and threw your arms in the air. “We need more breadsticks!”

Steve laughed loudly, the private booth still providing somewhat of a thin curtain to the other diners. “No, we need mints!”

Rolling your eyes, you blew your breath at Steve teasingly. “Weak.”

Steve groaned, “You and Scott are not getting into the car without chewing on a mint.”

“You got a thing against bad breath?”

“Take the mint.”

“I’m gonna fight you if you force the mint on me.”

He was reaching into his jacket and pulling the small case out. He winked at you. “I’ll win.”

He popped open the cap and held it out to you. He didn’t tip it though, as if he was waiting for you to extend your palm. Everything was silent for a minute, eyes challenging one another. 

He could easily lean in. He could easily just tilt his head a little to his left and capture your lips with his. Every damn molecule in his body was telling him to do it, every bubble from that champagne somehow giving him some extra courage. 

Your breath hitched slightly, and he leaned away. I’m such a coward, he thought.

You reacted swiftly, disguising the awkwardness. “You’re right, give me the mint. You should swallow like three.”

Steve snickered, “You ruined the moment.”

But you didn’t ruin the moment. And he just blamed you for it. Like he had already established - he was a coward. 

You grabbed the mints he offered and popped them into your mouth. “What moment? I didn’t see any moment.”

Okay, he could just lean in right now and hope the mint freshness in your mouth would mask the garlic in his. Yeah, he could just lean in and do what he’s been thinking of doing for the last day and a half-

“Hey, you guys finished? Getting dessert?”

Steve almost shot from his seat, “Jesus fucking christ, Scott!”

Scott slid into the seat across from you. “You scare easily. Let’s get dessert!” 

You were too flustered. Fine, okay. You’ll play along. If the gods want to reward you with this fun Steve, the Steve you were closest to years ago, then so be it. You’ll bite. And if he wants to resort back to his bitchy self, his hermit behavior, then you’ll fight him then. 

Scott ordered so much dessert. 

So much. 

The little moment you had with Steve was still fresh, you could sense he was thinking about it too, but you opted to simply enjoy the night out. You were here with two friends, protection was just a phone call away, and you were safe. 

Perhaps Scott had the same effect on Steve that he had on you. Absolutely demolished his ‘Captain’ self and released the guy who simply wanted to enjoy a mini road trip with his friends. 

     You were barely fifteen minutes into your ride home when Scott lowered the windows and turned the radio up high. 

“Woohoo!”

You screamed over the loud roar of the wind, “Scott, it’s fucking freezing!”

Scott yelled back, “We just had three desserts each! Your blood should be running warm!”

You blinked away the dryness, “Dude!”

Steve, surprisingly, agreed with Scott. “Enjoy it!”

Your mouth dropped open and you followed Steve’s movements as he turned the radio higher. 

The music blared and you were about to protest again, the air literally nipping at your sensitive cheeks, but the song that started was a non-skip. 

You would indulge in this childishness once. 

Once. 

You reached around the passenger seat and gripped Steve’s shoulders, shaking him in place. “Ah, California radio giving us the classics!”

Scott leaned over and turned it up higher. 

You swayed in your seat and sang along with Scott. “Bidi bidi bom bom!”

Scott pointed at you and recited the lyrics, “Bidi, bidi!”

Both of you sang, “Bom!”

Even with his eyes on the road, Scott was nailing some good dance moves in his seat. You both sang each lyric with your heart and soul, laughs escaping during the guitar breaks. 

Steve just enjoyed the show. He didn’t know the song, the melody a foreign one for him, but it must have been popular for both you and Scott to know it. He watched you sway in your seat, hands dancing and voice matching the volume of the radio. Just the other night, you had mentioned how you never sang anymore.

But here you were, singing through the most beautiful smile Steve had ever seen. 

He missed the sound of it. He missed hearing you sing in your room, no doubt you were dancing too since he usually heard your feet shuffling against your carpet. He missed the innocence you would casually portray, an invitation for anyone to befriend you. He missed teasing you lightly, and he regretted the roughness of his voice years later. He missed just walking into the common area and finding you there, cooking for yourself and anyone who wanted a plate - that plate usually for him. He missed you. 

You were right here, voice hitting those octaves Steve didn’t think he would ever hear again. You were right here, and he missed you. 

      Scott was staying in a separate room. The dessert and alcohol had run right through him, and he bid you goodnight after he threatened to plop down in your bed if you invited him in. 

The sound of Scott’s retreating footsteps seemed to suck all the air from the vents at once, whispering its song lovingly in your ear. It was both refreshing and terrifying to be left alone because now here you were, standing outside your hotel door with the super soldier you had gone to Hell and back with. 

You inwardly cringed, the tightness in your chest sending your childish ass back to sophomore year of college. A first date, the lost promise of another - a proper teenage reaction to a crush. But this man in front of you wouldn’t let you delete his number from your phone; he wouldn’t avoid eye contact in the dining hall; he wouldn’t sit at the back of the lecture hall just to keep a necessary distance. 

Granted, Elijah - poor, frightened Elijah - had seen you literally kidnap someone off the street under your father’s orders. This being before you went straight and moral, before you had met Fury, before SHIELD training. You were to blame for that sprouting relationship going south pretty quickly. So you avoided him, too - praying Ernesto or Seda could never track him. 

But Steve, beautiful Steve who reloaded your guns when you couldn’t, who jumped in front of stray bullets for you and those he loved, Steve who very quietly asked you for various salsa recipes when he was in the mood to cook. Here he was, eyes also watching Scott walk away, no doubt experiencing the same tight coil within his chest. He hadn’t run, he had worked and fought with and against you, and he wasn’t running away. 

No, Steve Rogers never ran. 

The low beep from the hotel lock snapped you from your thoughts. You sensed his hesitance because when your history was truly reviewed with the most unbiased of minds, there was absolutely no reason to overthink. Hell, when you ran through the halls of Thor’s Asgardian palace with Rocket tailing you, the first joke out your mouth was how Steve would probably instruct you to respect a place like that and speed walk. Your first thought when starting the pilot episode of a new show is to wait for Bucky… and Steve, who would pop the kernels over the stove and add real salt and butter. 

His first thought as he helped load people onto the planes in Sokovia was that your whiny ass better be on one of them. Or when Steve regrouped in the support circle, his first thought before he continued the discussion was that he really hoped you would walk through those doors and join - until one day you did. 

Whether the two of you recognized the severity of your unspoken feelings, they were there. Silent and at a gradual increase. Never rushed, not entirely obvious because of the temporary roadblocks of unnecessary separation. 

Steve was here in front of you, like he always was, and he was wearing the smallest nervous smile you had ever seen.  

And you were here in front of him, like you always were, and he could not entirely read the mixed emotions on your delicate face. 

You shuffled alongside your bed, stopping to shrug out of the heavy jacket you had on. “We should turn in early so we can be well-rested, in case we gotta fight tomorrow.”

Steve nodded in agreement but remained silent, hovering near the coffee table and monitors. Your back was facing him and he just watched you fumble with your boots and belt. It was like your back was on fire, bursting with fueled flames as you could literally feel his gaze boring into you. The overwhelming urge to simply snap and ask him what the hell he was looking at was strong, so in character, but you refrained. It was too intimate, too quiet, but before you could even ask him if he wanted the shower first, the warmth of his chest was near, inches away and calling. 

Your breath hitched, shoulders rising slightly and exactly what Steve needed to witness. It was awkward for him to just stand behind you with no actual intention of touching you first - no, he needed a proper signal. So Steve waited those few precious seconds more until you turned, sun-kissed by the California sun and hair no longer in tight curls, before he glanced down at your glossy lips. You followed his eyesight, all knowing in his intentions, and you glanced at his lips as well. 

A gesture of approval. 

Steve pulled you in, both hands settling on your cheeks, thumbs exploring the corners of your mouth. He watched them dance and how your mouth parted slightly in response. He looked back up, studying the small crease forming in between your eyebrows and the pinch of water filling the inside corners of your eyes.

His thumbs felt like a gentle sigh, a promise of a sweet caress in both the daytime and dead of night. Although all his focus was on you, his own features reacted to the moment. His lips were also parted, sweet breath with the scent of those classic tiramisu’s he had devoured, touching the tip of your nose and equally trembling lips. 

So goddamn intimate that you found yourself internally cursing those sitcoms Wanda had forced you to binge watch. Because the two love interests, albeit they had several months or years of growing tension, rushed into their first kiss for the sake of limited airtime. They didn’t prepare you for practically a ten-year build-up, a relationship that was both heavily work and friend related, the slowness of such a moment fans would most certainly be jumping out of their seats for. No, nothing could have prepared you for the warmth of Steve Rogers. 

Your Captain. 

You registered the soft feeling of his lips as they pressed against yours, overlapped only slightly. Eyes now fully closed in surprise and pleasure, you leaned into it more, hands placed on Steve’s rising chest. The squeeze of his hands cupping your cheeks caused your lips to pucker more, but you were relaxed in his desperate touch. He tilted his head a little to the left, your lips sliding against each other’s and noses bumping. Steve frowned in concentration, pouring whatever emotions he had felt throughout the last few years into this one kiss, and he knew he couldn’t possibly fully portray them. And almost as quickly as you thought about how sweet and innocent of a kiss this was, Steve’s tongue slowly peaked out from behind his teeth and greeted your bottom lip. 

His tongue traced over your bottom lip warmly, welcomed by yours as you followed his lead. God, you would always follow his lead. 

You tried to move in closer, but your elbows were already bent fully against him and his hips were only a few inches from your greedy ones. One tiny step forward and you would be completely flushed against him - but you chose to respect the distance Steve created. 

You let out a quiet whine, body shuddering as Steve applied more pressure. It was as if Steve had never heard such a sound - completely unexpected and causing him to pause momentarily. He leaned away a little, lips still barely kissing yours. He opened his eyes, gaze wandering from your flushed cheeks still squeezed between his palms and to your fluttering eyelids. The crease between his eyebrows deepened as he debated leaning forward again, to be selfish for once and to pass forth the trophy for ‘waiting too long’. But as you opened your eyes, no trace of regret or hate swimming inside your irises, Steve froze. 

You were his friend. His friend who teased him about the paint streaks across his forehead, who followed his lead no matter how ridiculous the order. 

He didn’t want you to inspect him further as well, so he shut his eyes and rested his forehead against yours. It was only then that he felt you settle back down from your tippy-toes. 

You gulped loudly, throat dry and lips instantly craving him again. “Steve…”

Steve let go of your face and dragged his hands lightly down your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He turned his head slightly, his breath now kissing your cheek. Although your cheeks were red, the absence of Steve’s palms made them cold. 

He took a small step back, hands straining to stay on your skin as he reluctantly pulled them away. The absence of any warmth finally woke you from that intense daze and you frowned at Steve as he pulled away altogether. The instinct to reach out was there, and you cursed yourself for being so clingy. 

“Steve?” you called again, voice hoarse but light enough to pinch at Steve’s fast beating heart. 

He looked up and locked eyes with your confused ones. Oh, you’re gonna hate him for this. 

He gave you a small and kind smile, one you had seen plenty of times when he was actually enjoying your company. He backed up to the door, gaze never leaving yours even as he reached for the handle and key card. 

And he wanted to bring his hands back to your face to rub away that wrinkle between your furrowing eyebrows. But he simply opened the door and left you standing near the edge of your bed, flushed with a deep sense of longing and growing confusion. 

Steve already knew the amount of heat he would receive from the moment gossip of the kiss spread. Whether he was first to tell or you were. Bucky’s going to kick his ass, for sure, no doubt about it. No matter his bond with Bucky, it could never excuse leaving you alone to unravel this situation. You had this hold over Bucky, a soft mutual understanding of mental torture, so this inevitable ass kicking would be justified. Plus, after years of being rejected over and over, mostly in the forties, Bucky might just kick his ass for simply being a dumbass. 

But Steve felt calm, an added relaxation due to the whiskey cooling in his hand. If there was anything Steve was an expert in, it was overthinking. You two had that in common - were you overthinking while absentmindedly watching TV? Overthinking while rubbing shampoo into your scalp? Overthinking while angrily stomping your way down to the hotel bar to hand his ass back over to him?

He let out a sigh of relief when he didn’t see you burst through the doors. 

      “Anyone wanna start?”

Steve glanced around the circle of familiar and new faces. The group varied each week. Some people would try, share their anecdotes about lost loved ones, only to never show up for another session. Others often attended and never spoke, but they kept returning. Steve didn’t judge their choices - he couldn’t. No matter how many mornings he wanted to crawl back under the sheets and binge eat packaged foods, he never could. He had been at this job for two years. There was both pain and satisfaction in what he did. Sam would be doing this if he were here. 

And he had to do this for Sam. 

“My divorce was finalized yesterday.”

Steve looked over at the man who spoke first, a long-time member of this particular support group, and grimaced at his confession. The man couldn’t have been more than thirty, no wrinkles or gray hair, and he was ending a two-year marriage. 

“I’m sorry, Michael.”

The man, Michael, shrugged sadly, “We still love each other, man. But seeing your newborn disintegrate in your arms does something to your soul that’s just… we both knew we needed to move on. Even if it was from each other.”

Steve squeezed the small, red stress ball in his hand and tried to offer more condolences and a kind smile, but it came out rather painful. He opted to stay silent in case Michael wanted to continue. Instead, another member decided to comment. 

It went like this for almost an hour with Steve adding in his empathetic words of wisdom whenever he saw appropriate. It was good for everyone to share so openly, to carry the conversation with minimal involvement from Steve. Steve had shared snippets of his story with the group awhile back, careful to not mention the gruesome specifics. He had let out as much as he was able, not as much as he would have liked, but his main job was to facilitate. Besides, Steve went to confession every month to talk to someone - anyone - even if he wasn’t necessarily Catholic. But that’s just the thing - no one knew who they were anymore. 

The sound of a scraping chair leg caught everyone’s attention, and they all turned to the entrance in search of the disruption. You paused in your movements, face scrunched in embarrassment. Opening one eye, you mouthed a quick apology and rushed to carry the chair to the circle. 

“I’m sorry I’m late. Subway was a bitch,” you muttered, your embarrassed smile growing wider. 

For over a year, Steve had subtly urged you to attend one of these meetings. He was witness to your nightmares, your destructive solo missions that even Friday had no records of, and your sudden breakdown last week. You were casually jogging around the outdoor track when you suddenly stopped and fell to your knees, broken sobs seeming to shake the trees around you. You were crouched for a good minute before Steve had seen you wipe your eyes and continue your jog. As if nothing happened. 

To see you here, whether to share or to listen, prompted the proud and erratic beating of Steve’s heart. 

“It’s completely fine. Time’s almost up but we still got time for you.”

You sent Steve a funny smile, amused by his professional tone. “Uh, yeah! A friend convinced me to come. He was pretty persuasive.”

Steve blushed, head tilting downward. 

You introduced yourself and let the group know you were also an Avenger. No one seemed shocked and you were suddenly grateful for this mixture of people. 

Steve sat and listened, his nerves settling. 

“I’m gonna be honest with you all,” you started, thumbs dancing in your lap. “And I’m not sure how you’ll react.”

Steve sat up straight, eyebrows scrunching as he listened intently. 

You sighed, wetting your lips briefly. “The day before the snap, I was supposed to die.”

You wanted to avoid Steve’s gaze until the right moment. You continued, “I went on a mission to Mexico. Alone, which was completely against protocol but hey, we broke a lot more rules than that.”

Steve cleared his throat which earned a chorus of chuckles from the group. 

“And I was technically on house arrest but I found out a way to temporarily disable that ankle monitor,” you added, grinning from the laughs you were receiving. 

“Anyway, all my potential backup was nonexistent. I had friends on the run,” you paused, glancing at Steve with a somber expression. “And other friends literally fighting another battle on their home planet somewhere in space. So, I went alone.”

“While I was bleeding out from a bullet my own father ordered, Tony was already up in space. Loki was already dead.”

You hoped no one commented on Loki’s role in your life. He wasn’t exactly a nice figure to suddenly name drop in New York, but he was important in your grief. 

It was slightly unnerving to be on display here, but you weren’t exactly planning on returning. You just needed to rant. 

“I stitched myself up the best I could in that quinjet - which I almost crashed,” you muttered, smirking at Steve. “Sorry, Cap.”

“This is the first time I've heard you flew. You’re not even authorized to fly,” Steve declared, face scrunched in confusion and astonishment. 

“That’s not important,” you teased. “But the stitches were messy work. Horrible criss-crosses.”

Steve was in a tiny state of shock. He had known what happened to you, but to hear you talk so casually about the day before the world went to shit - it just made it more real. 

You had mentioned before that you never dreamed about the snap, but about everything leading up to it. 

“I woke up, betrayed yet again by my own blood, and Steve was suddenly there after two years. We were gonna fight an outside threat.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and huffed lightly, “I was still healing but I was on the battlefield. Stayed close to Nat most of the time.”

The group was heavily invested in your retelling. “I couldn’t fight him, obviously. But I did see him. I saw how he ripped that stone from my friend’s head.”

A few winces sounded around the circle. 

“I guess I feel immense guilt. Like, I could have done something more even though realistically, I couldn’t. Kinda feels like I sat back and watched my friend’s die.”

No one spoke, but it was obvious everyone had survivor’s guilt. 

“And now, I’m living with the pain of having all three of my best friends stripped from me while also celebrating the fact that the snap took my father.”

Shrugging, you gave your last sad smile to the group. “I feel guilty for what happened while also being grateful it took someone who deserved it.”

After a few seconds of silence, Steve spoke. “You’re here today to tell your story. No one has to agree or disagree with you. It’s your story. Tell it like it is.”

You chuckled, “I could easily bother Steve with this at the compound.” You smiled at the teenager clutching what looked like a stuffed animal in his lap. “But I had nothing else to do tonight. My only friends are gone.”

“You and Steve aren’t friends?”

This time it was Michael that spoke, his eyes bouncing from you to Steve. You turned to Steve for some kind of answer. Was it a yes? Were you more like coworkers than true friends? 

Steve’s eyes softened and his kind smile was back. 

You answered, “I guess. I did come here for him.”

Steve rolled his eyes and kept his light-hearted tone, “I’m really glad you did.” 

Steve backtracked, clearing his throat as he addressed the circle. “I’m really glad all of you did. Same time next week.”

You busied yourself with stacking the chairs and dusting off your pants. Once most of the group had left, Steve gathered his things and walked over to you. “You take the subway?”

Your head shot up at the sound of his voice, and you stacked the final chair high. “I did. You drive?”

Steve hummed in response, “Want a lift?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “You’re not staying at your place tonight?”

“Nah, I haven’t seen Nat in a week. I should pay her a visit.”

He curled his jacket around your shoulders as you exited the building. You held it tightly, relishing in the comfort. The walk back to the car was quiet but not awkward. After such a heavy night, silence was most definitely needed. And just the comfort of being around someone you trusted added to the relaxation aspect of it all. 

Steve kicked a loose piece of gravel to the street. You watched him for a few seconds before you spoke, voice light and a puff of cold air escaping your lips. 

“Steve?” 

He turned to you and waited for you to continue speaking. 

“You know Sam would be so proud of you doing this, right?”

Steve watched the cold air leave his own lungs as well. He felt the weight of that statement pressing down on his shoulders as he looked up at the dark sky. “I know.”

     Steve knew he was utterly fucked, so fucked that any line that had been established was stepped over and kicked a thousand yards back. His mind was made up, he would not run, he would not succumb to some former mindset 2016 Steve would have fallen victim to. He was a new person, a completely different person than he was out of the ice and after the snap. He deserved to cross the line, he deserved whatever happiness was afforded to him - he deserved comfort in the arms of another after years of denying himself. 

He downed the rest of his drink with a loud gulp, mind made up, and headed back to your room. 

    It was best to just pretend it never happened… no? But did you want to pretend it never did? So many moments over the years where this could have happened, where either of you could have literally just said ‘fuck it’. As overthinking was a specialty, quite a useless skill, you thought about the countless fights you had. 

Red in the face, hands clenched until nails imprinted little crescents, absolutely seething at the mouth. Some of the things you would yell were vile, none at all honest but with the intent to cause pain for only a moment, and mumbled apologies later. You were literally enemies for these past two, long years. Enemies who had to be seated and scolded, tricked into accepting defeat and living as teammates once more. 

Perhaps one of those arguments could have been remedied by simply leaning in like you had tonight, by throwing each other against the wall, by pulling the roots of your hair as he tugged-

Nope. 

Nope. 

No matter how much tension you were now realizing you had for this man, tension that could literally be fucked out, wasn’t it too late to act on it? You couldn’t pinpoint the chance you maybe had and missed. 

Steve walked through the door in the middle of your rapid brainstorming. He just grinned sweetly and slipped into the bathroom. 

As simple as that. 

Now you couldn’t discern between the feelings of wanting to fight him or fuck him. Not being able to differentiate between them ignited a sour mood, and once he stepped out from the shower, you basically pushed him to the side to lock yourself in. 

Even the warm water hitting your body couldn’t alleviate the pressure of overthinking. You disregarded your hair tonight and instead just washed your body. As quick as you could jump back out and go to bed, the better.  

Sucking in a deep breath, you opened the door and shut off the bathroom light. Your eyes landed on Steve’s torso, shirtless and the only thing not covered by the white blanket. He hadn’t shaved his beard either, the length evident when he kissed you earlier. It felt wrong and right at the same time, a battle that you seriously did not want to deal with. To get involved with your mission partner was dangerous - not because Steve himself was dangerous, but because it was a giant distraction. A distraction that you couldn’t afford. 

But as he put down his book and lay it in his lap, looking up to look at you through hooded eyes, sleepy but alert, the ‘danger’ was nothing but enticing. 

You cleared your throat and padded down your pajama shorts absentmindedly, slinging your hair over one shoulder and focusing on plugging your charger into your phone. It was so silent besides your pitter-patter, and god, did Steve find that sound so relaxing, until you climbed into bed. Once your shuffling was done, the slight buzzing of Steve’s desk lamp drowned out all your other senses. And the longer it was heard, the more it sounded like a ticking clock. 

Steve shut the lamp off, the only light now illuminating your figure from outside. He studied your breathing, watching how every so often you would bring your hand up to scratch your cheek or move a stray hair. You looked so gentle, so inviting, so small. 

You were turned away from him and facing the wall, eyes shut as you listened to his movements. There was a small part of you that wanted to stay up all night talking, to lean on his shoulder and simply feel his warmth, to feel that beard against your cheek one more time. As quickly as those thoughts flashed through your mind did you scold yourself, that this was inappropriate and wrong and so dangerous. 

You felt a dip in your bed, heavy and unsure, a lift of your blankets, and it happened so quickly that you could have sworn you dreamt it. Steve wrapped his arm around you, his broad chest pressed tightly against your back and his lips attacked the skin just below your earlobe. Your breath hitched, eyes shot open, and your hands reached up to grip his wrist. Steve stilled. 

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed, lips hovering over your blushing skin and breath practically blistering. You could feel him now, hard and pulsing against your ass and ready to move. You felt dizzy, overcome with such a rush of desire that you couldn’t help but stiffen in his tight grasp. 

“Don’t,” you choked out, feeling his body become rigid and his breath begin to quicken. 

“I’m sorry I-” he began to move away from you, voice no longer a whisper and tainted with panic. 

“No,” you pulled back, tilting your head up to lock eyes with him. You brought your arm up to grasp the back of his head, and you tugged it back to your neck. “Don’t stop.”

Yeah, he was utterly fucked. “Fuck,” he groaned, continuing the attack on your neck. But he gained momentum now, arm squeezing you against him tighter, and voice cracking as he moaned your name. 

“Steve, please do something.”

Your hands found their way back to his arm, gripping it tightly as he fumbled with the waistband of your shorts. He played with it, teasing in his actions, almost as punishment for the years you tormented him with your attitude. His lips pressed harder now, finding each patch of available skin on your neck and flushed cheek, and Steve has never felt so aroused in his life. He wasn’t even inside you, but the quick gasps he heard from you did plenty in aiding the rush of blood from his head to his stiffening cock. 

“Tell me what you want. Please, tell me and I’ll give it to you,” he moaned, the slightest experimental role of the hips causing you to whimper. 

“Touch me,” you practically sobbed, rolling your hips back against him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt all of him.  

And just like that, he gave you what you asked for. He gripped your hip and shoved you closer to him, hot and ready and pressed firmly against you. He rolled his hips into you, little whimpers of his own touching your sensitive ear. He quickened his pace and he found it hard to think straight when the scrunch of pleasure all over your face, making you look so willing, was all he was focused on. He focused on the way you bit your lip, a bite and then a gasp, and then you were back to biting as if you were trying to restrain any higher moan. And even with only the moonlight illuminating the room, he could see the sun-kissed color of your skin and the bruising he was causing. He kept his mouth on you as he rocked himself against you, indulging in a few more selfish seconds of pleasure before becoming his generous self. 

He dipped his hand into your shorts and found the sweet nub that so desperately needed attention. His brain almost short circuited, the feeling of his fingers finally sliding into your wet lips making his throat dry. He drew little but skilled circles, each twirl of his index and middle finger in unison with the grind of his hips. Your mouth fell open by such pleasure, and you braced yourself by placing your left palm on the mattress and pressed down, nails scratching the cotton fabric and alerting Steve of your excitement. You pushed back against him, timed and in perfect harmony. 

You knew the room wasn’t on fire, but even if it was you didn’t think to check. 

“Keep talking to me, Y/N. Keep talking to me,” Steve begged, each rotation of his hips gaining pressure. His eagerness prompted you to reach back up and grab him by the hair, yanking his head to your tilted one and smashing his lips against yours. Steve gasped at the pleasant sting, somewhat surprised with himself that he liked that form of roughness. But who was he to judge his kinks when the tip of your nose was turning redder, the blush in your cheeks mixed with barely visible silver droplets of sweat, and a purple outline was beginning to form on your plump upper lip? 

The kiss was sloppy, uncoordinated, but still beneficial in getting Steve to rut against you even harder. 

He could so easily pull your shorts down and enter you, and if he was anything like he felt, then you knew it would sting. But you craved that sting and stretch, the thought of him inside you causing another gush of desire to leak from you. Steve dipped his finger deeper into you only to accumulate your juices and spread them higher. He went back to rubbing expertly, actions gaining speed to match your whimpers. 

“Fuck, Steve,” you moaned louder, and you swore you felt tears forming in the corner of your eyes. You pressed back harder, his hand rubbing and pressing down on your stomach simultaneously. Your head felt cloudy, the pleasure coursing through your veins and to the very tips of your toes. “Oh, my fuck.”

Steve paused his fingers to trail his hand back up your stomach and to your breasts, pulling your tank top down to spill them. The sounds leaving your throat set him on fire, desire pulsing everywhere - his head, his heart, his aching cock that was pressed so closely against you that he could feel you vibrating. He pinched your nipple and rolled it, closing his eyes in response to your dirty purrs. “Let me make you come, doll.”

“Wasn’t that the point?” you quipped, ass tilting at an angle that caused Steve to choke. He growled from the attitude he couldn’t believe you still fucking had during a moment like this and kissed you roughly, both your broken moans molding into one. His hand returned to your shorts. 

“Do that again,” he begged, hitching his leg up to rest on yours. The angle allowed him to drive his hips even harder. You maneuvered to provide the same tilt, grinning at the pleasurable cries that left your Captain’s mouth. 

“I think I’m gonna make you come first,” you chuckled and took his bottom lip between your teeth. You pulled lightly, concentration still in the circle of your hips. He looked back down at you, determination and undeniable lust in his eyes. He thrust his aching cock against you, sliding himself over your ass. He did it hard but slow, the pressure applied giving the head of his cock such a sweet squeeze as he bumped it against the curve of your lumbar spine. 

The heavy duvet was abandoned now, cold air from the hotel air conditioner failing in cooling you down at all. You both had a thin sheet of sweat on your clothed bodies, goosebumps standing proudly, and lips all plump and red from your harsh kissing. 

Steve held you so close, so tight, and his fingers were drawing such rushed and tiny circles that you swore his wrist had to be cramping up. But the sound of both your whimpers started to mesh together, alerting you of such a sweet climax up ahead. 

“Steve, fuck, fuck, ohh,” you mewled, voice now high pitched and yes, it turned Steve on incredibly but it also fueled you. Your pornographic moans ignited an even deeper desire within you, just the true fact that Steve was touching you, Steve was getting you to make these sounds, Steve is actually hearing these sounds, Steve is making the same exact sounds. 

 “I-, please, come for me,” Steve pleaded, cock twitching with each thrust as he neared his end. “Make me come.”

His begging, his equally high voice, his skilled fingers rubbing rapidly and the slight pain from that, his breath burning your neck, were all too powerful, their combinations causing the fire in your core to explode and make you see white in a flash, black dots later clouding your vision. Your nails dug into his moving arm, crescents branded into him. You clenched around nothing, walls fluttering and thighs shaking as they pressed around his hand and fingers. 

The inappropriate squelching sound of your juices spreading as your thighs clenched around his cramping fingers, the slide so sensual and dirty, had Steve rutting against you one, two, three more times before he came in hard but long spurts. His mouth hung open, breath still fanning your neck, and his eyes were so tightly shut that the force was enough to strain them. 

“Oh, fuuuck, yes, yes!” Steve groaned, his body taking longer than usual to recover. His orgasm was powerful, more powerful than when he got himself off in the shower or in the comfort of his bed at night, and he knew it was because you clouded his senses. Of course, there was an added benefit to getting off with someone else, aiding that person in the same endeavor, but because it was you, it made the climax even more forceful, more intense. The whole situation was both unexpected and calculated, gentle and rough, and Steve’s heart was beating so fast by the thought of what just occurred that he found himself wanting to spill into you all night long, and to apologize for overstepping an unspoken boundary. 

You could feel the wetness of both your own release and Steve’s, head still cloudy from such a sharp orgasm. You hummed in satisfaction, reaching your arm over once again to lift his head up by his hair. He hissed at the pull now, his body all fucked out and satisfied. “You good?”

Steve gave you a lazy smile, chest heaving in unison with yours. “I’m okay. You?”

“I’m good.”

Steve scanned your face for any regret just in case your words held other meaning, but all he could see was your satisfied expression, cheeks still flushed pink, hair tangled, and pupils dilated. He hesitated for a second before he leaned down and connected your lips, molding his with yours slowly and chastely. You both sighed at the feeling, highs now lowering and the coldness from the air conditioner causing a different set of goosebumps to appear. Steve pulled away, giving you one last peck as if testing the waters, and rested his forehead against yours. You both relished your post-orgasm bliss for a few silent minutes before cleaning up. 

You shared playful shoves as you cleaned up. It was almost innocent, a huge contrast to the sinful activities you two had just committed, but there was a genuine feeling of understanding in the room. Your heart clenched at the simple sight of Steve washing his hands, eyes meeting his in the mirror, a soft look in his that startled you. 

You gave him a smile so as to not alert him of your reaction, and exited the bathroom to climb back into bed. You drew the heavy duvet back over your body and cuddled in it deeply, chin hidden underneath and back facing Steve’s bed. It was a few more minutes before Steve came back into the room, shutting the light off, and looking at your resting form. He wanted to climb back in with you and hold you innocently, to have the feeling of your warm back against his broad chest, gentle exhales tickling the arm that would wrap around you. But he just looked back and forth from your bed and his, and he decided to not push the boundary further. He hesitated with this decision, but climbed into his own bed, the feeling of his cold sheets making him immediately regret it. He shuffled silently, his body facing yours. 

You wanted to lay beside him too. But whether you were making a smart decision or an absurd, cowardly one, one thing was certain: you could no longer ignore the stacking of such emotions you had for this man. 

It almost angered you, how much you denied yourself of even a simple crush for literally ten years, and it made you mad at Steve, too. Because if he hadn’t pushed you away, then maybe you could have accepted this sooner. 

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​

[leham-n-daavocado]

Formula 1: Drive to Survive, S1E8 “The Next Generation”

So this is actually an episode of DTS in Season 1 that I realllly like. I think what separates an episode like this and let’s say “The King of Spain” or the Force India episodes is the personalities of the drivers that come through on screen. Carlos doesn’t have much personality on screen until you put him next to someone like Lando who can really pull it out of him. Pierre and Marcus are cinnamon rolls. Charles is basically a character from a fairy tale/Dickens novel.

The episode gives us a look at how dangerous racing is through a series of crashes and then explains to us the last time an F1 driver died in the sport, with Jules Bianchi. Like I get that we can never forget that F1 is a dangerous sport, but I think their constant focus on crashes starts to get a bit much...especially with Marcus’ later on in the episode. It makes that transition and reveal of Charles being Jules’ godson even more striking. Like wow, the godson of the last man who passed away from F1 is now racing.

It’s just crazy how Charles life has this incredible arc to it that it feels like a movie. He’s from the city with the most famous F1 race of all. The amount of personal loss and tragedy his life has taken in his time in F1 is immense, losing both his godfather and his father during his time coming up into F1. He even races for a team his godfather was intended to get to... And in the next year, he loses a close friend and wins his first race on the track where his friend passes away.

One thing that kinda drives me crazy is the attempt to make people believe that Charles’ name is pronounced ‘CHAR-rulz LE-clerk’ and not ‘Sharl Le-clair’ because...we can’t confuse the Americans. Like all of a sudden, everyone calls him ‘CHAR-rulz’ and he calls himself ‘CHAR-rulz’ with like this clear agenda to make people believe it’s pronounced the English way and not the French way...but like everything about him, his accent, culture and nationality CLEARLY points to it being pronounced ‘Sharl.’ Subsequently, people are like ‘but he says it ‘CHAR-rulz’ and use it to not say it ‘Sharl’. Like, I have a surname that people mispronounce ALL. THE. TIME. that eventually you just let it go...but just because I’ve let it go, doesn’t mean that you’re saying my name right.

In this episode, we follow teams that have young drivers. We begin with Charles at Sauber and it’s so funny in some ways to see him at Sauber because I just associate him as a Ferrari driver. Every year has a model team and in 2018, with Marcus and Charles in the wind tunnel, they were the model team. They look like they should be selling sportswear or something lol. We’re also introduced to sourpuss or RBF extraordinaire, Fred Vasseur. We also learn that Sauber has a habit of losing talent that later becomes champions and Charles is the latest one with a promotion to Ferrari.

This episode also introduces us to the fact that these racers in F1 all come up together in the junior formulas and all know each other because of it. And despite competition, friendship forms, especially in Pierre and Charles. I’ve got to say, I love Pierre in this episode. He just has such a fun, sweet personality that just comes off the screen. His love of life, excitement and racing just radiates. He also has a parallel arc to Charles. He’s gotten the call up from Torro Rosso to Red Bull to replace Daniel. (I about died when I realized Torro Rosso was Red Bull in Italian.) We also get to see an incredibly awkward press conference where the interviewers ask Pierre about that while Daniel is seated right next to him...because F1! We only do drama!

That is why Kimi’s press conference and introduction is so funny. He comes in as some weird sort of famous figure we have no idea about, makes a comment and disappears from the rest of the series lol. But, he does turn the tables on the press and makes it incredibly awkward for them for once which is nice to see.

If there’s a key theme to Drive to Survive, it’s that someone’s always suffering when someone else is on top and in this episode, it’s Marcus Ericsson. It’s too bad that he never comes back since he loses his seat in F1, but he is just such a great personality as well with his humour and good naturedness. He’s just another guy who really draws you in with who he is. His ice bath moment, where he is max Swedish, is one of the funniest moments of the season, especially contrasted with Pierre’s ice bath which is literally a trash bin lol. (There’s commentary on how Red Bull treats its drivers somewhere there.)

Marcus loses his seat because of the lightning progress of Leclerc in contrast to him, someone who’s been in the sport for five years, but is only making incremental change. With his crazy crash in Monza, his confidence was probably shaken too. (Of course, DTS goes to town with it and shows it in gratuitous slow mo, making you wait for him to emerge unscathed only to play it again... ) And Charles’ promotion to Ferrari after only one year must have been a tough pill to swallow.

Finally, this episode also gives us a look at the extreme endurance it takes for the drivers and teams to get through Singapore with its humidity.

Rating: 8/10

This episode is really fun and there’s a lot of great personalities!

[anika-ann]

The Best Mistake of My Life - Pt.1

Type: One-shot/ch1 of a series

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 4100

Summary: A soulmate AU. They say having a soulmate is a blessing. Who wouldn’t love the idea of star-crossed lovers, right?

Neither Steve Rogers nor you consider yourself lucky though. It probably has something to do with the lines written on your skin. Because if the words are anything to go by, you’re not sure you want to meet each other.

Warnings: swearing, light angst, FLUFF 

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Steve Rogers was born a sickly baby.

Born a sickly boy to a single mother in the time of great depression, money thin, his health even thinner and having a pathetic number of friends; though that never really bothered him. What his friendships lacked in quantity was hundred times compensated by quality. Bucky Barnes’ loyalty was everything Steve could ask for.

And what Steven Grant Rogers himself lacked in height and strength of body was made up for by the strength of will, amount of determination and a great compassionate heart, ready to welcome anyone sans bullies there.

Perhaps God had seen that Steven would grow into a man carrying his heart on his sleeve and decided that this man should be blessed with a love so magnificent they would tell stories about it; people always had. People were always telling tales about soulmates.

Having a soulmate wasn’t necessarily rare, but not everyone was bound to have one. Being one of the lucky ones was an amazing gift; a promise of a connection as unbreakable as the thread of fate, a promise of an unconditional love.

To know person had found the one, their soulmate, those who were blessed with one wore a brand on their skin, a clue to allow them to recognize their destined partner; a set of words.

It was the set of words what was troubling Steve Rogers the most. Despite Bucky’s reassurance, despite his mother’s last words, despite Steve willingness to fight everything else the world would kick into his way, he found moments in his life he cursed the words written on his skin, reminding him how weak he would always seem to people.

Above the visible line of his collarbone, sticking out on his rather skeletal frame, there sat the words of doom:

‘Oh no, there must be a mistake.’

The very first time his soulmate would spoke to him… they would be disappointed and silently praying that whatever force was behind bounding souls together made one hell of a misstep. A mistake.

That was what Steve was going to be to his soulmate; a mistake. A failure. A disappointment.

And why wouldn’t he be? Ninety pounds of rattling bones, list of illnesses longer than his birth certificate…. Every girl Bucky had ever tried to set him up with out of pity (which Bucky would deny until his last breath) had been disappointed.

“Maybe she’ll be more into brunettes. Maybe she won’t believe her soulmate is blond at first,” his friend would say, “or she’ll be from Queens and wouldn’t get over the fact you’re not, but once you’ll show her the true Brooklyn charm, she’ll fall to your feet.”

Then he would always pat Steve’s shoulder, pulling him into a one-arm hug and tried to get him a date once more.

Steve didn’t believe him. He never did, but recognizing his friend felt better if Steve played along, he would smile and poke his ribs in return.

“Whatever you say. Jerk.”

…

Much later, when he said to Peggy Carter that he was waiting for the right partner to dance with, he was starting to admit to himself that he wasn’t thinking about his so-called soulmate as the one. After all, he went against all odds, against rules, against destiny itself when he had been accepted to the army regardless of his fragile body. Maybe, just maybe it meant that not ending up with his soulmate was what would happen one day.

When he crushed the Valkyrie to the ocean, not even having taken a chance on Peggy Carter despite her obvious interest, he must admit he had been lying to himself.

His last realization concerned his soulmate; despite wanting to fight against the whole world, he couldn’t make himself to take a chance on Peggy Carter, a brilliant woman who was not carrying the right set of words.

His last regret was that he would never meet his true love.

His last thought was that maybe, his soulmate never had a set of words spoken by him on her skin – her first words to him might as well be the ones spoken when reading his obituary, somehow knowing he was supposed to belong with her.

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The moment you were old enough to understand the meaning of the word ‘soulmate’, you were intrigued by the concept; it probably had everything to do with the fact that you too were supposed to have a person meant to be your other half.

Every parent was bound to be delighted when their child was born with that kind of blessing, but the older you were getting, the more you understood what kind of a shock might occur when a kid had rather strange line supposedly spoken to them by their universe-chosen partner for life.

There were people who had words like ‘shit’ on them; literally. Not very delightful. Sometimes there were general lines like ‘Hello, how are you?”. Good luck hunting down the right person. In contrary, some people had a name on them; ‘Hi, I’m Peter Cameron.’ Lucky bastards.

And then… then there were people like you, whose words were just… weird.  

“But I really am 95,” you mumbled under your breath, tracing the handwriting right under your collarbone subconsciously, the first thing you did in the morning if you remembered – which wasn’t every day, not by a long shot.

“This is the stupidest thing ever…”

You shook your head and started to get ready for your day at the office.

Your opinion on your soulmark had been changing during the years. You had had a period of fascination, simply being proud of carrying it. Then you had understood the meaning of your words, and you had been horrified and desperate at the idea of meeting your soulmate at such age or worse, having one that old while you would be thirty or something when encountering them.

Then had come the phase of how could I avoid having a grandpa as my soulmate. Maybe the number meant something different – your soulmate’s weight (you really wouldn’t care for that, you reasoned), his temperature (he might be hypothermic at the moment, no?), his hotel room number, the number of a seat in a theatre perhaps… there were so many possibilities, right?

Now, you just tried not to think about it too hard. You had had boyfriends, never lasting longer than few months sans the one exception of George, who had turned out to be the biggest asshole in the world despite your belief he had might have been the one; until you had caught him in bed with another girl.

Maybe it was that deep inside you had never believed in the relationships you had, because the guy never said the right first words. Or maybe you were full of shit and you couldn’t keep a guy interested, god only knew – hence not thinking about it too hard, going on with your life and taking it as it was.

You might meet him, you might not. It wouldn’t be the first case of never encountering a soulmate. Life was funny that way.

Best not to let it ruin your day. A rather nice day it was, today. If you only didn’t have to spend it in the crowded office with people demanding their licences and taking out their frustrations on you. Well. You were a grown-up; you had to be okay with things not always being okay. Which sucked. But that was life.

…

You had a chance to have a shortest coffee break to exchange ‘hello’s with Ryan – your actual favourite person in the world, your platonic ‘soulmate’ (not in the ominous sense of the word), your boss who never really acted like a boss – and that was it. Apparently, half of Manhattan had gotten their licence this very date years back, so the office was ridiculously crowded. Thank god for the glass between you and the jungle; it shielded you at least partly.

You grabbed the file of request no. 57 that day – you were like a machine, okay, you couldn’t remember the office ever managing to deal with so many in only three hours – pulling out the documents and the licence to make another driver happy.

Your hands were acting on autopilot and you didn’t even glance up when an ID was pushed to you through the small space between the glass and the counter, checking the renewed licence first.

Your first thought was ‘oh wow’. That guy on the photo was gorgeous. You couldn’t help but snap your head up, checking out the real-life thing.

OH WOW.

Scratch the ‘gorgeous’. Replace it with ‘unreal’.

You were tempted to ask if he was made by an ancient sculptor and then brought to life, because his body was as incredible as his face; the broadness of his shoulders begged for a touch. His muscular arms were not so hidden in the sleeves of his dark green shirt. The shoulder-waist ratio was clearly a God’s mistake, a one you were thankful for.

Forget ancient sculptures. His face must have been sculptures by angels and they left him with a halo of blond hair as a reminder. And his eyes. Oh god, such pretty eyes…

He gave you an unsure smile, opening his mouth to probably accuse you of staring and you quickly dropped your gaze, returning to check the licence before you would give it to him.  

Your hand froze hovering above the date of birth. You hesitantly looked up again, biting your lip guiltily despite not being the one who had messed up. You felt kinda sorry for him waiting the line for nothing.

“Oh no, there must be a mistake…” you half apologized, half said only to yourself, meeting his suddenly alarmed gaze.

You put on your most apologetic face, hoping he wouldn’t be too mad. How had someone messed it up again? The birth dates were with typos all the time. How?! There were only numbers for God’s sake! It wasn’t like the person inserting the data to the computer had to spell Buchwald or Mxyzptlk or something like that!

Damn you, Sheryl or Kira or you whoever have done this!

The man – Steven Grant Rogers, as you had learned from his sadly valueless driving licence – was staring at you, speechless. You were honestly getting worried, though you weren’t sure if you were more scared for him or for yourself in case of his reaction escalating.

So you went to explain.

“Uhm… I’m really sorry, mister-“ You quickly eyed the name ID he had given you, checking if the office got the name right at least. “-Rogers, but there seems to be a typo in… in your birth date. I apologize for the mistake our institution made, even though I wasn’t the one to-- you don’t need to know that, it doesn’t matter-- I’m so sorry you have to come here again, but I can’t really let you walk around or rather drive around with a licence claiming you were born in 1918, so…”

You had become so flustered, your cheeks burning, talking and talking without being able to stop, not making any sense even, until-

“But I really am 95,” he admitted sheepishly and you wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement, when something in your brain clicked.

The click was about as loud as an atomic bomb falling on Hiroshima. You were sure everyone had to hear it.

It shut you up immediately. Your whole body froze, your mind buzzing uselessly, not a single thought staying long enough for you to actually understand it. Until two words got stuck, shining in red letters like a neon sign in your brain.

Holy. Shit.

“Excuse me,” you squeaked, grabbing his useless licence and mechanically rising from your seat, walking away.

The moment no one could see you as you got into a hallway, you broke into a run. You acted on instinct. You ran and you ended up in front of Ryan’s office, stumbling in without knocking and without an atom of oxygen left in your lungs.

Ryan’s neatly combed hair swayed as he snapped his head to the door, his eyes strict until they took the newcomer – hint: you – in, widening instantly.

He quickly jumped to his feet, pacing to you.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, voice filled with worries.

You weren’t able to answer, because—holy shit. Your eyes frantically scanned the room, unable to meet your friend’s gaze. “I-- I-“

A hand landed on your shoulder, your eyes immediately falling on it on instinct. Shit, you couldn’t breathe. Could you?

Ryan’s free hand found you chin, tilting your head so you faced him. “Hey, baby, look at me! What happened? Was someone too much of an asshole to you?”

“I’m not-- he’s-“

Ryan’s face screamed concern, but he had fixed it in a second, soothing smile on his lips. He led you to his sofa, the calming blue cushions enveloping you.

“Sit down on your ass and gimme that,” he maneuverer the document off the steely grip of your fingers, sitting next to you as he looked it over. “Huh, quite a looker this guy. So what did he do?“

“I—the- the licence says he was born in---in 1918,” you stammered, finally able to breathe in properly and speak.

Ryan squinted at the date and then rolled his eyes.

“Oh jeez, again? Why is it so hard to just get it right? I swear I’m gonna have to fire Sheryl, she’s a disaster. What’s wrong with her? It’s not like they would be making a licence for someone that old! There’s a photo goddammit!”

“Ry-Ry… he said he was 95.”

Another eye-roll was his answer. “Yeah, I can count. He would have been if he was born in 1918 instead of 1981.”

“No, you don’t-“ you licked your lips and swallowed against the lump that grew in your throat. Your voice was as shake as your hands. “He just told me that. That he really was 95.”

Your friend observed you silently for a beat, not following. And then realization hit him like a train.

“Oh. OH. No shit?!”

It was your turn to stare silently, your mind loud enough to make noise and fill the space of Ryan office.

“Damn, does he really look like that? Lucky bitch!”

“Ryan!” you yelped in surprise when his fist bumped your shoulder, almost knocking you off balance.

It worked though. It grounded you and threw you back to reality. You tried your best to calm your breathing, but damn. This guy… he was your soulmate. You just met your soulmate. And he wasn’t a grandpa. He didn’t weight 95 pounds either. You weren’t in a hotel, neither in a theatre.

No. The number was only about one tiny mistake— oh, ohhh shit, what was the first thing you had said to him? Oh fuck. Way to go, girl!

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked rubbing the spot he had punched.

“No!” you shot back immediately, your mind racing.

“You know what I mean. You look better now. Though I gotta say, so is he. His face really is quite easy on the eyes. How about the rest of him?”

Ry-Ry, your bi-side is showing.

You chuckled at the easy talk, the tension from your shoulders falling a bit.

“Well… yeah, he’s like a model. So out of my league…” you muttered, remembering your ogling. This guy was your soulmate? Wasn’t it a mistake?

Ryan was suspiciously quiet; normally you would expect him to scold you for selling yourself short. Instead, he was staring at the licence, his lips parted in silent shock.

What now?

“What?” you demanded, following his line of gaze.

Ryan just chuckled, the incredulous sound ringing, echoing in the quiet space. “Girl, I hate to break it to you, but I might not fire Sheryl just yet.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Remember that one time aliens were falling from the sky?”

You blinked in surprise at that question, not following his train of thoughts. “Uhm… yeah? Pretty hard to forget that…?”

You were lucky you hadn’t been smashed under a building that day. Many people in Manhattan were, some sadly not. So yeah, you remembered.

“You remember the waitress from the café talking after the incident?”

“Oh my god, Ry-Ry, just spill it! I’m not following!”

Your friend huffed in exasperation, shoving the licence in your face, his finger on the name.

Steven Grant Rogers. Yeah, you could read too.

“That name should ring a bell, you dumbass! Would you say that this guy is handsome enough to be Captain America?” he hissed, making your heart stop.

Oh. Oh shit.

OH SHIT.

Your brain short-circuited.

“Oh my god. He really is 95,” you breathed out, your brain somehow choosing the least logical reaction to this whole revelation.

Ryan laughed. “Ding-ding, we have a winner! Holy crap, baby, I think you just got yourself a superhero soulmate!”

And just like that, you started panicking again. You gulped, watching the driving licence as if it could blow up.

“Shit, Ry-Ry! What do I do?” you whispered, desperation soaking through. What were you supposed to do upon that revelation? Captain America was your freaking soulmate!

Ryan smiled at you reassuringly, patting your cheek. “Not coming back to your spot behind the counter today, that’s for sure.”

“But-“

“I’m going in. I think this place won’t blow up if I fill in for once. I sure hope I remember the process, though I’m probably not gonna be as efficient as you are.”

You didn’t know what to say. Hell, you didn’t know what to do! But yeah, not coming back to the jungle sounded good, especially given your frantic escape.

“You really would do that?” you asked hesitantly and Ryan just rolled his eyes. “But… Ryan, what the hell do I do?!”

Your bestie gave you a lopsided smile and a wink, patting your cheek patronizingly once more before heading to take over your workplace.

“Whatever you want, baby. Whatever you want.”

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While you were having your own freak-out, Steve was standing at the counter, dumb-struck.

He couldn’t believe it. You had actually said those words. And judging by your reaction to his own, he must have said yours. Which… yeah, congratulation, Rogers, you had given your Universe-chosen dame an amazing note on her skin. To be fair, so had she.

Incredible.

Impossible.

His soulmate was in this century. In this millennia. That was what he got for ever thinking he could escape fate; a slap right in his face.

Because while for several cherished moments, he basked in the light on his soulmate not considering the pairing with him the infamous mistake the words on his skin claimed… he soon learned that it didn’t mean no heartbreak for him.

You had taken an abrupt leave to the back of the office and never came back.

Few minutes later, a man emerged from the door you had disappeared into, taking your seat and without a second look on Steve’s ID, he explained that Steve would have to come here again.

Steve didn’t care for the process of getting his driving licence renewed in the slightest, barely listening. His gaze was at the door to the hall, opened ajar, the door you didn’t return from after learning he was meant to be your partner.

When he had seen you behind the desk, he had considered you a beautiful dame, certain his heart had skipped a beat when your eyes met his. The sight of you was burned into his brain, now forever as a painful memory.

Clearly, you didn’t want him. Not because he was sickly, 95 pounds or 5’7’’ or all bones. Not because your words to him were about a mistake. Not because he was from Brooklyn. No. Honestly, Steve didn’t know why, what could scare you off so soon. He just knew you had escaped at the mere sight of him.

With his mind fuzzy, he walked out of the building into the bright nearly midday sun, blaming the sharp rays for the sting in his eyes. He sighed, running his hand down his face, suddenly bone tired.

“Mr. Rogers?” a shy female voice addressed him, instantly making him turn around to its source.

His lips parted in awe. There you stood, your airy floral dress reaching your knees, played with by the softest breeze. Hesitant smile on your lips. A tiniest spark in your eyes as he subconsciously took two steps to you, just to prove you would still be there if he came closer. You didn’t disappear.

“Y-yes?” he stuttered, actually feeling like the small man he had used to be before the serum.

You quietly introduced yourself, meeting his eyes once more, effectively stopping his heart again. You offered your hand for him to shake and he, feeling like he was dreaming, something else possessing his body, kissed your knuckles as he would have done if meeting you seventy years ago.

The most adorable heat warmed your cheeks at the gesture and you casted your gaze down; but Steve did catch a glimpse of the earlier spark shining brighter before you hid yourself from him

“I… I believe we have a lot to talk about,” you whispered and he instinctively gave your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go and shifting a half step closer to you. The corners of his lips unwittingly turned up, something warm building up in his chest as you returned the smile with hesitance.

“Yes, I think we do.”

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Nicolas J. Fury was sitting in his office, waiting for the door to finally open. There was something bugging him – and that something was about 5’7’’ tall, had red hair and was doing whatever it wanted, messing with his business. On top of that, she left him waiting; he had requested her ten minutes ago and she still hadn’t arrived.

He couldn’t help but let his sarcasm show when she came eventually.

“Agent Romanoff. Thank you for coming. Now, care to explain me why did you insist on Rogers getting his driving license renewed in person when we have done it for him already?” he demanded, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his desk.

The agent just shrugged. “He needs to meet people.”

“Don’t give me this shit, Natasha! What are you not telling me?”

Slow smirk spread Natasha’s lips, perhaps a bit smug, but she didn’t say a word.

“Romanoff-“

“Alright! Jeez, Nick, you have to work on your patience when it comes to Rogers, I swear…” she teased him. However, at least she started talking. “I might have run his… words through the system Stark provided us.”

Realization dawned to Fury. There was only one system she could be talking about. The soulmate matching one. Insert the words of a person and it would search the database for a possible match; everyone’s words were being put into the database at their birth. It made SHIELD’s work easier in case criminals happened to have a soulmate; the connection was so unique it usually offered a weak spot even for the rotten people.

Nicolas Fury raised his eyebrow expectantly, while Natasha just watched him, amused as she had the upper hand. The man rolled his functioning eye and sighed exasperatedly. Why was he keeping her around again? Oh right, she was his best agent.

“Fine. Did you find a match?”

Natasha snorted. “I didn’t even have to look for a match. There aren’t many women with ‘But I really am 95’ written on their skin,” she explained dryly and Fury just wanted to growl, cursing mentally.

How had no one thought about using the database in the first place?! It had cost them a lot of money, okay? They had it for a reason!

“She clean?” he inquired instead or swearing out loud and Natasha scoffed.

“Like a whistle, not even a speed ticket, which is rather ironic. She’s boring, really – she’ll be perfect for him. Can I go now? I have an ass to kick.”

“…Rogers’?”

“Barton’s, actually. Have a good day, Director,” Natasha spun on her heels and headed to the exit gracefully.

“Hey, I want her file!” Fury complained, already knowing he wasn’t going to receive it from her.

“Find it yourself!” she threw over her shoulder cockily, her red hair swirling with the sudden movement of her head.

The director of SHIELD tried to keep his amusement in check, controlled by the irritation, but he lost. The corners of his lips twitched as the door clicked behind his best spy.

Why did he keep her around again?

He started the search for the words Natasha had said, sinking into his chair comfortably.

Alright, no doubt future Mrs. Rogers. Let’s see how boring you really are.

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Part 2 (originally this was only meant a one-shot)

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Tags: @cxptain @mermaidxatxheart @smilexcaptainx​

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