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moonmaarii · 29 days ago

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Could you do one where reader is the best friend of Clarke who was apodt by her parents when hers died when she was 5 so there more like sisters reader was also in prisoned for helping Clarke and her father when they land on earth Reader stays close to Clarke for awhile till she slowly become friends with john Murphy surpisibg every one cause no one trust him she the only one he's nicest to even protecting her they end up dateing in secret for awhile sneaky off and stuff together eventually Clarke and everyone finds out Clarke's not happy but dost stop us but threaten John as the series go they fall deeper in love they choose to stay on earth with Clarke and others and end up basically married

something we shouldn't be

request: yes - thank you so much for being my first req! i had a lot of fun creating this, so let me know what you think <3

summary: angsty romance - after being adopted by the griffins, you and clarke grew up like siblings. but on the ground, everything changes—especially when you start falling for john murphy, the last person anyone trusts. secrets don’t stay buried forever.

warnings: none really - i mean murder is mentioned but literally just the word, angsty/moody, very brief description of violence (not towards reader) - if you think i have missed any, please let me know

pairing: john murphy x reader (gender neutral)

word count: 1,716

the sound of the drop ship landing still rings in your ears long after the ground stops shaking. you’re lying on your back, strapped into a harness that did nothing to stop your head from slamming against the cold metal wall during descent. there’s blood in your mouth, your fingers are trembling, and all you can think is:

we’re not dead.

a blur of motion snaps you out of it. clarke. she’s on her feet before most of the others, yanking at her restraints and checking on the girl next to her like this is just another exam in med class. you watch her work, grounded by the familiarity in her face—her focus, the slight crease between her brows when she’s worried, the way she checks your pulse twice, even though you’re already sitting up.

she was always like this. back on the ark, she was your anchor. your sister in every way but blood. when your parents were floated, it was clarke who found you in the corner of your quarters, curled up with your mother’s worn jacket and nothing left to lose.

she didn’t say anything then. she just sat next to you and stayed. she's still here.

“hey,” she says now, snapping her fingers in front of your face. “you with me?”

you nod.

“good. come on. we need to see where we are.”

outside, earth is everything you were never allowed to dream about. wind that smells like pine and wet dirt. trees that go on forever. a sky so open it makes your chest ache.

but beauty doesn’t make it safe.

bellamy is already stirring up trouble, and kids are pulling off their wristbands like they’re a curse. chaos brews beneath every face. most of them don’t care about survival. they care about freedom, and what they can do with it now that no one’s watching. you and clarke try to organize something—anything—but it’s like herding cats. angry, terrified, hormonal cats. that’s when you first notice murphy.

john murphy—short fuse, acid tongue, a smirk like he’s always two seconds away from starting a fight just to see how far he can push someone. you remember him from the skybox. he’d been on a different level, but you’d heard the rumors. theft. assault. some even said murder. you didn’t care enough to ask back then. now, he’s loud. picking fights. laughing too hard. he scares people, and maybe he likes that. you stay away.

however, it didn’t take long for your paths to cross - the first time you talk to him, it’s because of a misunderstanding.

a kid named miles is accusing murphy of stealing extra rations. there’s shouting, shoving. clarke is trying to mediate, but murphy’s jaw is clenched and his eyes are daring someone to hit him. you’ve seen that look before. it’s not about hunger. it’s about being cornered.

“hey,” you say sharply, stepping between them. “check his pack before you point fingers.” you said, jerking your head slightly in miles’ direction. it’s a gamble. but sure enough, miles has an extra tin stashed under his jacket.

murphy blinks. once. then twice. he says nothing, just watches you with that hard, unreadable stare.

later that night, while everyone else is celebrating the “justice” you helped deliver, you catch murphy sitting alone near the treeline, sharpening a knife with short, precise strokes.

“you didn’t have to back me up,” he says without looking at you.

“no,” you agree, “but i hate liars more than i hate you.”

he lets out a low laugh. “that supposed to be a compliment?”

“don’t push it.” you leave him there. but your curiosity doesn’t.

---

you don’t mean to keep finding yourself around him, but as the weeks pass it seems to be happening more and more often. sometimes it’s during shifts—he takes night watch more often than most. other times it's a coincidence. he never starts the conversation, but he doesn’t walk away either.

what surprises you most is how normal he can be when no one else is around. his walls are high and bristling, but you’re starting to see through the cracks. a joke here. a grunt of approval there. one night, you catch him whittling a small carving of an animal—maybe a wolf or a dog, it’s hard to tell.

“you make that?”

murphy shrugs. “something to do with my hands. keeps me from strangling people.”

you smile before you can stop yourself. he notices. and he softens. it unnerves you more than the scowl ever did.

---

clarke notices something's changed when you start laughing more—just a little. smiling at strange times. taking longer to return from watch duty. she doesn’t say anything at first, but her eyes linger on you longer than usual, narrowed with that quiet suspicion only people who’ve known you forever can pull off.

“who is it?” she finally asks one morning, cornering you at the stream while you’re washing blood off your hands from a skinned knee.

you freeze.

“what?”

“you’ve been sneaking off,” clarke says. “don’t pretend i haven’t noticed.”

you deflect and she lets it go. for now.

but the guilt starts to curl in your gut. because the truth is, you’re not dating murphy. not yet. not really. there’ve been glances. tension. a hand brushed against yours and neither of you pulled away. you’re close to something. dangerous. inevitable.

one night, he catches you watching him a little too long by the firelight.

“what?” he says.

“nothing.”

“liar.”

you smile. “takes one to know one.”

---

the first kiss happens after a mission goes sideways. grounders. blood. panic. you trip running from the clearing, lose your footing, and murphy is suddenly there, pulling you up with a firm grip and eyes wild with adrenaline.

later, bruised and breathless behind a fallen log, you look at each other for a long time.

“you good?” he asks, voice rough.

you nod.

and then you kiss him. or maybe he kisses you. you can’t really remember, but it doesn’t matter.

it’s brief. heat, fear and something fragile wrapped up in smoke and silence. when you pull back, he doesn’t say anything, just looks at you like he’s memorizing the moment in case it’s the last.

---

keeping secrets on the ground is like trying to hold water in your hands. you and murphy don’t talk about what happened that night in the woods. not directly. but something shifts. he walks a little closer when you’re in groups. his sarcasm softens around you. once, when you’re hauling supplies from a scavenged drop cache, his hand brushes yours and lingers for a heartbeat longer than it should.

the others notice.

it starts small. raven gives you a weird look after dinner one night. monty raises an eyebrow when you sit down next to murphy at the fire. but no one *says* anything. not yet.

“people are starting to talk,” you tell him one night, hidden behind the med tent. your voice is low, uncertain.

murphy’s leaning against the metal wall, arms crossed, face mostly in shadow. “let them talk.”

“you don’t care?”

he shrugs. “only care what you think.”

that makes your breath catch in a way you didn’t expect. you’re not sure when this became more than a distraction. but it has. the tension between you simmers, unspoken and constant. late nights turn into stolen kisses. whispered jokes become genuine laughter. there’s a night when you fall asleep next to him in the bunker and wake with his arm still around you—and he doesn’t pull away.

you keep telling yourself you’ll tell clarke.

eventually.

you’re coming back from the river with murphy, muddy and a little too giddy from nearly falling in. the two of you are laughing—really laughing—when clarke spots you. she’s standing just outside the gates with bellamy, arms crossed. the look on her face could freeze a wildfire.

“y/n,” she says tightly.

murphy’s laugh dies in his throat. he steps back, instinctively defensive.

clarke’s gaze shifts to him like a blade.

“i need to talk to you,” she says to you, not asking.

you glance at murphy. he nods, wordless.

she pulls you behind one of the tents. her expression doesn’t change. her voice doesn’t rise, which is worse.

“how long?”

you hesitate. “a few weeks.”

she stares. “so it’s not just... a thing.”

you don’t answer. you don’t have to. clarke closes her eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of her nose like she’s trying to physically push back a migraine.

“you know who he is,” she says finally. “what he’s done.”

“i know who he is now,” you shoot back, gentler than you feel. “you don’t see him when it’s just us.”

“maybe not. but i see how he treats everyone else. i see the way he picks fights, the way he—” she cuts herself off, jaw tightening. “he’s not safe.”

“he’s safe with me.”

“that’s not the same thing,” clarke says quietly. “and you know it.”

you don’t say anything. what could you say? after a long silence, she sighs. the fight drains from her shoulders, but not her voice.

“i’m not going to tell you who to love. i’ve never done that. i won’t start now.” she steps closer, and suddenly she’s your clarke again—not the leader, not the medic, just your big sister with too much weight on her shoulders and no room for more heartbreak.

“but if he hurts you...” Hhr voice breaks a little. “i won’t float him. i’ll bury him.”

you smile, despite the tension in your chest. “dramatic.”

“i’m serious.”

“i know.”

clarke pulls you into a tight hug, and for a moment, you’re back on the ark, two scared kids just trying to survive. when she pulls back, she nods once.

“be careful. with him. with you.”

“i will.”

and later that night, when you find murphy sitting at the edge of camp, tossing rocks at nothing, you sit beside him and whisper, “she knows.”

he flinches. “how bad?”

“she didn’t punch you.”

“what’s new.”

you glance at him sideways. “she did threaten your life.”

he smirks. “also new.”

you bump your shoulder against his. “she’s just scared.”

“she’s not the only one,” he admits.

and for a while, you both sit in silence—side by side, facing the dark. not a secret anymore.

credit for dividers : @cafekitsune

#the 100 #john murphy #the hundred #the one hundred #fic #fic writing #murphy #richard harmon #john murphy the 100 #john murphy x reader #angst #romance #the 100 imagine #the 100 one shot #john murphy one shot #john murphy imagine #imagine #one shot

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cains-daughters · 1 year ago

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Summary: Dean and Y/N meet at a club, get drunk and have lusty hard sex outside of the club. The next day they formally meet eachother when one of John's old hunting friends wants to introduce his daughter to the Winchester brothers.

Warning: smut, nsfw, minors go away, 18+, public, unprotected sex, hooking up, drunk sex, oral (female receiving), teasing, pounding😜😜😜

Sweaty bodies dancing against each other, the sweet ecstasy of letting your body flow with the music, dancing with a guy you found hot and also having a couple of beers in your system was all you needed to get your head out of a chaotic week. Feeling the rhythm through every movement you make against his body, seeing how he’s perfectly reacting to your ass against his bulge, getting chills while he’s roaming his hands around your hips and waist making your body hotter than it already was. You rested your back on his chest while he pulls you closer by the hips and lays his lips on your right ear.

“The way you move is making me crazy, you feel that baby?” He says while pushing his hard on you, his voice is raspy and sultry making you want to purr but all you do is get closer to him. He feels so big and you can’t stop thinking about the fact that you know nothing of him. All you know is that both of you were smiling from across the bar, he came to you, started flirting, bought you a couple of beers and now you’re grinding on this man’s hard dick. Wait, what was his name again?

He turns you around so your chest is on his, your hands are behind his neck while he's pulling your hips to his. All you see in his eyes is hunger but yours are filled with lust. He suggests to take it somewhere private, of course you agree. Taking you by the hand, he guides you through the crowd, once you find yourselves in a not so private but not so crowded space outside the club he pulls you into the wall. Holding eye contact for a second, feeling the lust you both have for each other, playing around with who kisses first, lips and tongues slightly touching, he pulls back when you try to kiss him and you lick his lips when he tries. It’s all fun, until the hunger kicks in.

With no anticipation he pulls your pants down to your knees and starts rubbing your pussy over the wet panties. You’re leaning on the wall grinding your hips on his hand wanting more. As he’s pushing his weight unto you, he’s still rubbing your wet cunt, making you whine and moan. He stops for a second and takes your tits out of your bra. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you”. Biting your neck and your tits while he pulls your panties down. "I need to taste you, please let me taste you" he breathes out while kissing and nibbling on your skin going down to meet your pussy.

You're just nodding and gripping his hair guiding him to your pussy. He chuckles seeing you so desperate to have him eat you out. "Use your words, sweetie. Can I taste you?". He's saying that while he's resting his chin on your mount of venus waiting for your consent. "Fuck, shut up and eat me" is all you moan out while positioning your pussy on his mouth. You thought he was going to go straight to sucking your clit to give you the release you need but no. He decides to tease you.

His warm tongue is slowly moving up and down on your folds, making little circles on your clit but nothing to give you the full pleasure you want. "Please" You whine but he doesn't care. The knot in your belly starts growing, the heat running through your spine makes your toes curl, your breath is getting deeper, your moans louder and he is still teasing you. "You taste so good, baby" The vibrations of him talking while he's on your cunt makes you go insane. You try to get his mouth on your clit but he refuses and slaps your cunt for trying to move him. He stops, gets off his knees and grabs you by the jaw and warns you "Don't disturb me while I'm eating, I might bite you".

While making you stare, he unbuckles his pants and takes his hard and wet cock out. All of the pre-cum you see in his pants makes you giggle. "You're a mess" you joke, but to be fair you're the one that has her tits out, rubbing your clit while staring at his cock as he gets closer. He embraces you in a hard kiss while placing his dick in-between your wet folds. Making sure he doesn't insert himself, he's slightly rubbing your clit with his tip while making you suck on his tongue. Both of you are desperate for each other, panting and moaning needing to climax.

He turns you over, pulls your hips up and centers himself to thrust inside of you. "Baby, I'm so sorry but, I'll fuck you hard" he moans into your ear while rubbing his tip on your pussy waiting for you to give him permission. "I need you to fuck me, please" you hate begging but you're burning everywhere. As he started thrusting you, he was gentle, helping you adjust to his size but after a few seconds he started pounding you hard from behind. He grabbed you by holding both of your hands behind you. He was not only hitting all your sweet spots making you feel like the need to squirt but the feeling of his balls hitting your cunt as he pounded you made you even more wet. Both of your moans filled the place, some people heard but all they could hear was you asking for him to fuck you harder and him saying how good you were taking his dick so they didn't bother interrupting. When you told him you were going to cum, he told you to rub your clit so you could cum all over his cock. The thought of having you cum all over him made him want to get you pregnant but he couldn't risk it.

When he pulled out all he wanted to do was take you and fuck you harder at the motel but Sam was over there thinking Dean was out looking for clues on a new case. "Let me get you dressed and take you home" he insisted while putting his pants on. "Oh, no biggie, my friends must be waiting for me" you explained, feeling a bit awkward now that you're sobering up. "This is so embarrassing but what was your name again?" "It's Dean Smiths, sweetheart, don't forget that name". He said that while winking and handling your purse. "I won't". As you walk towards your friends car, he's already on his car, a black 67' chevy impala, similar to the one your dad's friend had when you were a kid.

The next day you wake up not just with a headache but also feeling sore. You haven't had sex in a while and all you could think is how this Dean Smith guy has such a thick cock and how hard he fucked. Your phone started ringing and interrupted your thoughts.

"Dad, are you okay? Is everything alright? is mom-" "Y/N relax, come home, there's some people I want you meet" "Dad. it's 7 am, on a freaking Saturday, can I go later today?" "No, bring your hunting stuff" He hanged up. You got up, packed your things and got ready. Now that you live on your own apartment, he never calls you this early neither asks you to go home at this hour, he would just make you stay at his house if he needed you to be there, specially with things about the job.

When you got there you couldn't miss the same Impala from last night being on your dad's driveway. "Perhaps it's dad's friend, wow I haven't seen that man in years" you thought. Before you made your way to the living room where you can hear your fathers voice. Your middle sister stopped you. "They're hot, and brothers, one for you and one for me" she says whispering, making you giggle and roll your eyes.

"Y/n is one of the best hunters I have in the group, even if I still see her as my little girl, I gotta admit, she has balls" you hear your dad say and some guys start chuckling with him. "I probably have bigger balls that you, dad, he doesn't like hunting vampires, but honestly that's where the fun is at" you say that while the guys turn around to greet you... there he is, the guy that was pounding you like slut last night. I don't know if i should scream, run, laugh or-. "Sweetheart, these are John Winchesters' sons, my friend that taught you how to shoot when you were just five years old; this is Dean and Sam Winchester. You guys would play with guns, don’t you remember? Perhaps not but you should help them on this case, you'll love it" says your dad. Sam extends his hand to shake yours "It's good to meet you, again" "likewise" you respond. When you turn to Dean, he looks like he's trying to cover his embarrassment. "So, Dean Smith, how are you?".

this is my first time actually posting smut I write when I’m bored and horny, bare with me🫡😛

#dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester smut #dean winchester headcanon #supernatural #supernatural smut #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #dean winchester x y/n #sam winchester #sam winchester smut #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester x y/n

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rafesteddy · 7 months ago

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𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔼𝕝𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟: ℂ𝕒𝕤𝕦𝕒𝕝

𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 ℙ𝕠𝕘𝕦𝕖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: fluff, pet names, swearing, ruthie’s a bully, ruthie and the reader fight, heavy angst, gaslighting, verbal altercation between rafe and the reader, drinking

All of my asks got deleted 💕😭 so I'm not sure who requested this, but thank you! The premise the reader catches Rafe, Topper, and Ruthie talking about her from a distance (homage to s4). There will also be a nod to the beach episode with added drama between Ruthie and the reader. This post is based off an ask requesting a tie between the story and the song “Casual” by Chappell Roan ♥️

Reader’s POV:

The Island Club Christmas Party… You never thought you'd find yourself here.

You rest your back against the wall, listening to the party from down the hall, taking a moment to yourself. Well, it started that way until you heard his voice. You couldn't help but hang back, listening to him speak candidly, intrigued as Rafe’s voice weaves deftly between a conversation with Topper and his girlfriend.

“Y/n?” Ruthie cuts as Rafe mentions looking for a bigger house, making plans for the future. Your name on her lips makes your stomach turn.

“What about her?” Rafe drawls before taking a sip.

"She’s pretty Pogue. Isn't she? Are you and y/n getting serious now? She seems… invested,” she needles, wrapping her glossy lips around her straw.

Rafe pauses for a moment, thinking of a reply, letting the words hang in the air for far too long. “Just ‘cause we hooked up doesn't mean she’s my girlfriend. Okay?” He mumbles.

“I’m just saying the two of you are together a lot… Wait, are you lookin’ for a place with her?” She asks, tilting her head slightly, letting her judgment bleed into her tone.

“I’m not livin’ with a Pogue,” Rafe answers without hesitantion.

Ruthie and Topper smile at each other and chuckle at the ridiculousness of her question. “I don't know. Just thought I'd ask,” she giggles to Top as he wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her close.

“It’s casual… Nothin’ more. Nothin’ less,” Rafe adds, getting the final word. The rug gets pulled from underneath you. The harsh realization that you mean so little to him cutting through you like a knife, especially when he means everything to you.

You walk back to the ballroom—the party hitting you at full force—the smug laughter of the Kooks, rich music flowing, the clinking of champagne glasses between lofty toasts. All the noises battle Rafe’s cruel words, screaming in your mind.

"You coming to brunch tomorrow?" Wheezie’s voice startles you, pulling you out of the depths. She stands in front of you, bright-eyed and innocent, looking up at you with a sweet smile. “John B’s comin’ too,” Rafe’s little sister mentions a familiar friend in an attempt to sway you and make you feel more comfortable, her question just twisting the knife further, every word driving it home that you weren't anything more than a fling— your invitation to brunch apparently lost somewhere down the line.

You offer a strained smile, lips trembling. "Maybe," you say quietly, "I might have plans."

Wheezie’s lips tug to the side, and she nods, not wanting to push it further. “Well, I hope you can make it,” she smiles gently before stepping away.

You walk toward the tables, looking up at the stage, seeing Pope behind the piano playing for the crowd. His fingers move masterfully along the keys, holding their attention as he weaves between Christmas songs, flowing into the next effortlessly. He looks the part; his tailored suit fits him like a glove. You can't help but envy how well he slips into this world, which seems to weigh heavier on your shoulders with every passing second.

You reach for your champagne flute, watching it tremble in your hand. Heat builds behind your eyes as you start to pick yourself apart, just simple things. You notice how chipped your sparkly nails had gotten from doing the dishes before you left, something so superficial now a strike held against you. You toss back the rest of your drink, tucking your hands under the table.

“A drink, My Lady,” your eyes lift to another friend. JJ Maybank. He rests a glass of champagne on the table, taking away your spent drink. His smile falls as his eyes match yours. “Hey-Hey, you alright?” He asks quickly, his voice laced with concern. JJ’s gaze shoots up, scanning the party for Rafe, knowing it most likely has something to do with him.

“It’s fine, Jayj,” you breathe.

“Want me to kill him?” He asks dryly, making you laugh and roll your eyes.

“I’ll have to get back to you on that,” you sigh.

You look over your shoulder, heart fluttering as Rafe walks around the corner with two mixed drinks. He looks handsome—his honey-colored hair brushed back, showing off his beautiful face. His muscular body is hugged in a dark green suit, matching your dress perfectly as the two of you had planned. Rafe scans the crowd, smiling brightly as he sees you.

You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to forget everything he said, but you can't.

Casual? There was nothing casual about us. How could I not know this is how he felt? How could I be so wrong?

Six months… What’s causal about that? Were you casual this morning when he woke up in your bed? When you made him breakfast and sipped coffee as you chatted about tonight? Were you casual when he took you out to dinner? His beautiful blue eyes locked on yours while he whispered you were ‘the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen…’

Rafe Cameron, the man who trusts no one told you secrets you had to promise to say no one… Casual? I'm a fucking idiot.

Your jaw tightens, teeth-gritted, as you see Ruthie and Topper step around the corner too, following along. The three of them stroll toward your table, sitting down, making themselves comfortable as you try to compose yourself—doing your best to hide the disappointment painted all over your face.

"Wow," she calls as she looks around the room, chuckling mockingly, "We have Heyward and Maybank. I could use something to eat, y/n. Is that your job?"

You straighten up in your seat, cocking an eyebrow in her direction, biting back an angry reply as you feel Rafe’s hand rest on your thigh, grounding you in the moment. Ruthie smirks, catching the shift in your demeanor, getting off on the fact that she got to you, not wanting to stop now that she started.

"Your friends seem to know their place,” she smiles as she points to JJ, gathering some trash from an empty table, "accidentally" knocking her glass over in the process, soaking the lap of your dress before you can get a word out.

You gasp, watching the liquor spread along the fabric. All eyes turn to you. "Oh no,” she pouts, poking out her bottom lip. "Shit, y/n. I’m sorry.” Rafe quickly grabs a linen napkin, blotting the stain. You bite your cheek, fluttering your lashes to hold back tears.

“You okay, baby?” He whispers. You shake your head ‘no,’ feeling the champagne seep through your dress, trickling down your legs and onto the floor below. “Don’t know what the policy is on a rental. Maybe they’ll cut you a deal,” Ruthie giggles airily against the rim of her champagne flute before taking a sip.

The room spins around you; humiliation and sadness quickly snuffed out by a surge of rage. You shove out of your seat, grabbing for Ruthie before tearing her to the floor. “Fuck you!” You hiss as you draw your hand back, slapping her face like you’ve want to do for months, making her head snap to the side.

She shrieks in anger, clawing her manicured hands against your face and arms in an attempt to get you off as you start swinging, blacking out completely.

"Get off me!" She cries.

“Y/n, stop,” Rafe yells as he grabs your arms, pulling you off her. You lift your foot, kicking her back down to the ground, making her sob as your spike heel hits her quick and hard.

"You think you’re better than everyone?" You shout as you fight against Rafe’s grasp. "You’re not-”

“Control you, Pogue, Cameron,” Ruthie cuts over to Rafe as she thumbs some blood from her bottom lip.

“Fuckin’ cunt,” you grunt as you escape, grabbing for her, but Rafe lifts you off your feet, hauling you back. “If you keep running your mouth, Ruthie. You better learn how to fuckin’ fight-”

"Enough!" Rafe snarls in a low, angry tone.

He grabs your arm tightly, dragging you toward the door, guiding you into the freezing night’s air. You tear away from his grasp, charging toward the main road, letting the tears you held in all night go.

“Let me go!” You scream as he grabs you, whirling you around.

“What the fuck was that, huh?” He explodes as he steps closer.

“What was that?” You scream back, voice echoing through the dim parking lot. “I heard you, Rafe. I heard the disgusting shit that you said about me…"

He freezes, his expression shifting from anger to guilt. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he stammers.

“‘Just ‘cause we hooked up doesn't mean she’s my girlfriend.’ What the fuck am I to you, huh?”

“Baby, c’mon…”

“You’d never live with a Pogue. We’re casual. No more. No less. I mean nothing to you.”

“You’re twisting my words.”

"I am not twisting shit!" You hiss, voice cracking with emotion. "You don't respect me. You never fuckin’ did. Admit it.”

“That’s not true!”

“Bullshit!” You bang your fist against his chest, making him shut his eyes, drawing a deep, frustrated breath. “Look at me, Rafe,” you whimper as you show him your dress.

“That was an accident-”

“You’re not that stupid. I know you're not.”

“She’s a bitch… That’s just Ruthie,” he mutters like that excuse will get him anywhere. “You know I'll pay for it. The night’s almost over.”

“And that makes it okay? You let her talk to me like that. You didn’t say anything. You just sat there while she embarrassed me.”

"I’m sorry. Okay?" He softens his voice, looking around the parking lot for watchers-on.

“You sat there and watched her tell me I don’t know my place.”

"That was wrong. It’ll never happen again. I'll fix it. I'll tell them we’re not casual. I'll tell Ruthie everything I should have said when she was talking to you like that. I'll make this right. Just let me make this right-"

You shake your head fast, the bitterness leaving your lips in a disgusted laugh. “You don’t get it, Rafe, do you? You can't repair what just happened in there. It’s done. The little regard you had for me is all they’ll remember. You do not have my back. Allowing them to talk to me like you did without stepping in is somethin’ they’ll never forget. It’s just somethin’ they can use against me. You don't think she’ll bring that shit up again? You think those little comments you made died on your lips, Rafe? ‘Cause they didn’t.”

Rafe reaches for you, his eyes desperate and glossy with tears. “You’re upset. Let’s talk about this tomorrow. Please, just—”

"No. I’m done. I am done not being good enough for you, Rafe.”

"Let me help you relax," he says, lowering his tone further as he reaches for again. "You're just overwhelmed." You shove him back, anger and heartbreak churning in your system. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me. I’m done.”

The Twinkie rumbles behind you, breaking the tension. Pope pulls beside you, opening the door, his concerned stare meeting you. JJ hops out of the van before it can even roll to a complete stop; a wide, wild smile is painted on his lips, just begging Rafe to grab you again.

“Think she told you to stop touchin’ her, Cameron,” JJ cuts to Rafe as he steps between the two of you. Rafe shoves him, the two quickly getting in each other's faces. You grab JJ’s arm, tugging him back to the van. Without another word, you climb in, slamming the door shut.

Rafe’s rapid breathing mists in the night as the blood drains from his face. "Don't go, baby. C’mon,” he begs, his pleas getting swallowed up by the roar of the van's motor.

You look back at him through the window, feeling your heart break all over again. Rafe’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears, his head hanging low as he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his phone and keys.

Pope wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. You rest your head on his chest, taking a deep, needed breath.

After a few minutes, your phone buzzes in your lap as the van heads north, leaving Figure Eight in the dust. You blink away the tears from your eyes, looking down at the text from Rafe.

Rafe: I'm sorry princess. I was a fucking idiot and I hurt you. I care about you so much more than I ever let you know.

Rafe: I'm sorry I fucked up and embarrassed you like I did.

Rafe: Please let me make it right. I'll do anything. Even if it means leaving you alone while you figure out if I'm worth it

Rafe: please give me another chance

You smear a tear into the screen and lock it, wanting to believe him, but you're too overwhelmed. As soon as you close it, another text comes in.

Rafe: I’m driving to your place right now.

Rafe: Please give me a chance to explain. There’s nothing casual about us.

Rafe: Not to me.

Your chest tightens, anger and heartbreak warring on you. Those were his words. He said you were casual. He said he couldn’t see a future with you. And he said that shit ‘cause he thought you weren't listening. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, and against your better judgment, you type.

You: Ok

Rafe’s car pulls up to the front of the château. You watch as he steps out of the car in his suit, his jacket off, and his tie loose. His hair is messy now, hanging down on his forehead, his cheeks dewy and splotchy from the tears he’d never let the Pogues see.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his words wavering. “I didn’t mean what I said back there. That was the stupidest shit I’ve ever done. Alright? You mean everything to me-”

“Do I?” You ask, challenging his words. “Because you made me feel like nothing, Rafe.”

“I love you,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “I’ll spend every day proving it to you if you let me.”

“You love me, Rafe? Love? Why the fuck would you say that now? Do you think I’ll let this go ‘cause you “love me”?” You hurt me, Rafe,” you whisper. “How can I trust that you mean what you say when you talk about me like that behind my back? ”

“I know,” he said. “And I’ll never forgive myself for it. But I can’t lose you.”

“I need some time, Rafe.”

“A break-”

“We’re casual…” You correct him. “A break from what?”

He buries his head in his hands as his emotions start chipping away at his icy exterior.

Rafe meets your gaze again, bushing the sleeve of his white shirt along his eyes. “Can’t we go back to the way we were before? Back to how we were before we got to that stupid fuckin’ party. I can work to prove that you are right this time. That we’re together—you and me. Boyfriend; girlfriend. There’ll be no questions from you or anyone else that it’s serious… That I'm serious about you and I,” he rambles.

You look back at the broken man before you, hating yourself for wanting to do just that, loving yourself enough to shake your head ‘no.’ “We can't go back to the way things were…”

His head falls, tears tumbling to concrete steps below. “Please,” he sniffles.

“I don't want what we had. I want something different. I'm gonna need more, Rafe.”

He nods his head, taking in your words. “Can I pick you up tomorrow? Nine AM. Brunch… With my family, if you’re interested. Please say ‘yes’…”

He steps a little closer, taking your hand in his, his eyes pleading with yours for another chance.

“I don’t know, Rafe…” You whisper.

“Please, baby. I don't deserve it, I know. I got a lot I have to fix, and if shit doesn't change, you can drop me, and I swear I’ll leave you alone. You won't have to worry about me anymore. Okay?”

“Rafe…”

“I'm sorry… I'm so sorry. Everything I just said to you I meant. And I know you said you don't believe that I love you and I don't blame you. I’m gonna show you. Okay? Everyday… Your place is beside me, alright? Where I go is where you belong. You gotta believe me.”

You look up into his tear-stained eyes, and for the second time, you go against your better judgment, putting your heart in the hands of a boy you can only hope means every word he says, unwilling to lose the man you thought you had.

“Okay.”

#s1!rafe ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ #rafe fluff #rafe #rafe cameron x reader #my library ᝰ.ᐟ #kinkmas event .𖥔 ݁ ˖❄️˚. ᵎᵎ #rafe blurb 𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ𖦹₊⊹

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magicalqueennightmare · 16 days ago

Text

What Was That?

John Walker x Reader

You don’t necessarily hate him. When he ends up helping up you and you end up in an intimate situation with him, neither of you are sure how the hell it happened.

Semi public sex?

Could be read as a part 1 to Messy

Civilian clothes while hunting down Karli meant jeans and jackets for Sam and Bucky. You however? You said screw it and was wearing one of your favorite dresses. The perks were it paired with boots well, had a high enough slit you could fight in it and no one could clock the fact that you were armed pretty well and carrying extra for Bucky too.

Zemo had unfortunately complimented you on it and it made you want to strangle him, until he offered you money to buy more like it. Then you settled on just glaring at him.

You were walking down a side road with Sam and Bucky when you heard him. John freaking Walker. The new government appointed Captain America. All Military propaganda glory. The worst part was the man was absolutely fucking gorgeous. Those blue eyes locked you in place and the cocky little smirk? Yeah it made you wonder about other things.

“Hey John, how’d you find us this time?” you greeted and Bucky cut his eyes at you “Don’t antagonize him” you shrugged “It’s fun” John caught up with the four of you, Lemar with him. John did a double take at you “Why are you wearing that?” you crossed your arms “Excuse me?”

“They’re dressed properly for civilian clothes in case of fighting. You’re in a dress” you laughed “Says the man wearing that” and waved a hand over his suit. You waved a hand over yourself “Guess how many weapons are currently on my person Walker?” he let his eyes skim over you and shrugged “Two at most”

You barked out a laugh “Two guns maybe. I’ve got five knives also” he stood there for a moment staring at you and you grinned “Easy fella, gonna stare a hole through it trying to figure it out” he shook his head “Anyways”

Zemo was laying across the couch with a cool rag on his face, Bucky had tried to hide the fact that he was going to talk to one of the Doja Milaje but you’d clocked it and Sam was trying to get in contact with Joaquin so you decided to hit the streets and see if you could hear anything more on possible whereabouts for Karli’s crew.

You were walking down a road when you heard a voice call your name and turned to see John. This time he at least had changed out of his uniform. “Like you like this better” he rolled his eyes “Why are you alone?” you shook your head “I’m a big girl, don’t worry. I can handle myself” you kept walking and god bless he fell in step with you.

“Is there a reason besides Bucky that you hate me?” you spun around to face him, pointing a finger in his chest “First of all don’t make assumptions. If I hated you, I would make that clear” his eyes widened slightly but damn him that smirk slipped into place “And second of all?” he asked and you rolled your eyes “If I did hate you, it would be for a better reason because Bucky said so. Men don’t make my decisions for me”

You started back walking and he kept pace “Where are you going?” you sighed “My face isn’t as well known as say, Bucky’s or Sam’s or yours for that matter. I can blend in with crowds and listen. So please back the hell off”

“I’ll hang back” he agreed so you nodded and walked away.

You knew John was nearby, you could feel his eyes on you but you moved from place to place listening to locals talk. You knew when to listen and when to move on. You’d picked up a few tidbits you were going to take back to Sam and Bucky.

You walked around a corner and suddenly you knew your back was against the wall and a knife was to your throat. Before you had time to react, to get the assailant off of you, they were crumpled to the ground. John stood behind them. “Thanks” you muttered and he nodded “I think you’re done for the day” “Yeah”

He decided to walk you back to where you were staying or close anyway. “Gonna tell me what you heard?” he asked and you turned to face him “John, just go home. This is too heavy for you and Lemar. They’re super soldiers” “We’ve handled worse” he pushed and you groaned “And if one of you get hurt or killed?”

“Aww worried about me sweetheart?” he teased and you open handedly slapped him. “Get over yourself! I’m trying to look out for you and your partner! You’re a decent man!” you kept walking, cutting down an alleyway and he followed you, his hand wrapping around your arm. He turned you to face him “I’m sorry. That was being an asshole. It’s just.. The pressure that’s on us to find them. I never even wanted the shield. They assigned me to it”

Your eyes widened because you didn’t know that. “What?” he nodded “I can’t be Steve and everyone is looking at me to be him. I’m not a good man, I’m a good soldier. I can take orders. That’s why I’m here. Why I can’t go home” “That’s sad” you admitted and he shrugged “It’s life at this point. Joined straight out of high school”

The two of you kept walking until you turned to face him again “Why keep trying to make friends with Sam and Bucky? Why save our asses?” he shrugged “Why not?” you stared up at him and realized just how pretty his eyes were up close. He was a lot bigger than you too. His larger frame blocking you from sight of any passerbys. “You’re still an asshole” you told him and he nodded “You’re still kind of a bitch” he replied. The next moment your lips met his, your back against the wall as he nudged one clothed thigh between your legs.

Good god the man could kiss. He shifted his leg, pushing against your core and giving just enough pressure to pull a moan from your lips. “Sounds so sweet though” he muttered against your lips as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You gripped his biceps, trying to ground yourself as you fought the urge to shamelessly rock your hips against his thigh to chase that pressure.

He pulled back and whispered “Go ahead baby” you whined, rocking your hips tentatively and pleasure shot through you. He grinned “Atta girl” you continued to grind against his thigh as he kissed you, muttering words of praise and encouragement. You felt that knot in your stomach building and when he moved to shift one hand under the skirt of your dress, circling your clit over your panties. You fell apart, your orgasm making you shake slightly.

“Fuck” you whined and he grinned “Feel better?” you nodded, pulling him into a kiss as your hand cupped the apparent bulge in the front of his jeans “I’m wearing a dress John” he nipped at your bottom lip and hooked one of your legs up around his waist. His right hand slid between your bodies, unbuckling and unzipping his jeans. He shoved them down just far enough to get his cock out and you swallowed hard when you saw his size “Backing out on me?” he asked and you shook your head, shifting your leg up higher around his waist “Fuck me already boyscout”

He pushed your panties to the side and lined himself up with your opening and pushed into you with one hard thrust of his hips. Your head fell back but he pulled it forward against his chest instead “Cement wall” he muttered. You nodded, clinging to his shoulders as he kissed you. It was tongue and teeth, desperate and hungry. You moved your hips against his to let him know you were ok. His grip tightened and he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in and you gasped “Just like that” he chuckled low “Dirty little thing, begging to get fucked in an alley”

“Feels fucking good John” you whimpered and when your walls fluttered around him from a particular angle he groaned “God damn baby” and hit it again. You gasped as he found a pace that had your back biting into the wall but you could have given a damn less. The pleasure coursing through you made up for any amount of pain.

“Please don’t fucking stop” you begged and felt his teeth graze the skin of your neck “Wasn’t planning on it” you could feel another orgasm building and he slipped his hand down to let his fingers find your clit. The moment you felt his calloused fingertips on your flesh, your orgasm hit you hard. He moved to swallow your moan with a kiss as you came, clenching down around him. He fucked you through it, then his thrusts got a little sharper, little deeper “Where at sweetheart?” he asked through clenched teeth. “In me, I’m covered” you moaned and his head fell over on your chest as his hips continued to snap into yours “Fuck baby”

He buried himself into you with one final thrust and warmth flooded you when he found his release. He stood there for a few moments, just holding you close to him as you both worked to get your breathing back to normal. You laughed lightly “What the fuck was that?” he shrugged “Really good sex we shouldn’t mention to anyone else?” you nodded “Agreed on all accounts” he smiled and pressed a final kiss to your lips before easing your leg down. He tucked himself back into his jeans as you fixed your own clothes.

The rest of the walk to where you were staying was in silence and he didn’t even mention the information you’d found out. He simply pressed a kiss to your temple and said “Be careful out there honey” “You too Walker”

#john walker smut #john walker x reader #john walker x y/n #john walker x you #john walker fanfic #john walker imagine

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multific · 1 year ago

Text

Control

John Price x Reader

Summary: John was a man who liked being in control, and you were a woman who hated giving men what they wanted, so when it came to questioning you, John found himself in a rather tough spot.

"So, Miss Y/L/N... Codename... Black Cat. I have read your files." John Price put the papers down before he sat down at the table across you.

You watched him, not saying a word.

"Your Captain said that you are the best, but what it is exactly that you do?" he leaned back in his chair as you leaned forward.

Game on.

"If you read my file, you must know, so ask the questions you really want to ask, Captain Price." a small smile, just a tiny one, for a split second could be seen on his face.

He liked you.

But again, everyone liked you.

Even if you behaved like a bitch.

"How? How do you do it? I have read about the mission in Qatar, you rescued over a hundred people. No casualties. No one saw you going in or coming out, so, how did you do it?"

"My Captain said that Taskforce 141 needed someone a little more... flexible. She said it will do me good coming here to help you, Captain Price. So, if you need my help, I suggest you refrain from asking more... stupid questions. With all due respect." your eyes never left him, you just sat there, legs crossed under the table, your hands on top of the table, resting.

"They say you are the best getting in and out. No witnesses, no death."

"Who are they?"

"I need someone who can do this job for me, I do not need an amateur egoist who won't work with my team and won't answer simple questions."

"Now, am I the best or an amateur? The two really don't work together. Also, if you continue insulting me, Sir, I might change my mind and just go back."

"How do you do it?! How can you get hundreds of people out of a building without anyone noticing?"

"I just have them focus on something else." you replied, your hand reaching for the cup in front of you. "And while they are looking elsewhere, I get what I want." you lifted your other hand and showed him the gun in your hand. His gun.

John watched you in amazement, but you could also see a hint of fear. Fear of the unknown, you were already used to that.

"I will send you the file tomorrow. Be ready at 5:00am." he stood from his seat, ready to leave after he got his gun back from you.

"So tell me John, am I an amateur or am I the best?" you asked as you turned and looked at him.

"You definitely are... something, Doll." you smirked as he walked away.

Oh, you will have a great time playing with the handsome Captain.

How sad that the Captain didn't realize that he was already in the claws of the cat.

Being played with, you will have your fun.

---

Captain Price got shot.

He walked right into a trap even though you warned him.

And now, you were hiding in a small shed with him.

He got shot in his left thigh.

"I told you not to go in there."

"I thought it was safe, they said it was clear."

"Yeah, and then betrayed us." you let out a sigh as you pushed on his wound, he groaned loudly. "Now, I will get the bullet out okay? bite down on this." you handed him a piece of wood.

John barely made a sound as you removed the bullet from his leg and treated his wound as best as you could.

"Don't trust the radio." he said, not like you didn't already know, yet you chose not to reply. You had bigger issues at hand, an injured Captain and a betrayal... "You have lovely eyes." you made you freeze as you looked at John.

His head, leaning against the wall as he watched you.

"So beautiful." he whispered. It had to be the blood loss.

You tried to convince yourself. It had to be the blood loss. What else could it be?!

"You are stunning." he continued, his voice sounding like a dream. You tried your best to focus.

Blood loss.

"So fierce and firey."

Blood loss.

"I like you very much, ya know?"

Blood loss.

"I shouldn't but I do."

"Captain." your voice sounded like a warning. A warning John was too oblivious to realize.

"Why do you hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you." you replied immediately. And you truly didn't it was a simple attraction you felt towards him, an attraction you thought best to keep under cover. Perhaps he was the same, and with his delusion, he finally admitted them. "I do really like you John." you said as you sat down on the floor in front of him.

You knew you two were safe here in this basement.

But you weren't safe from your own feelings and his.

"But you do."

"To be fair, you were the one that interviewed me."

"I did that because I found you attractive. I couldn't believe my eyes, you were skilled, sexy and pretty at the same time!"

"I will get us out of here." you said as you tried to avoid his confessions.

"I know you will, Doll. The question is whether I will be alive or not."

"I stopped your bleeding." he looked down at his leg and saw his bandaged up leg.

"Oh. You did." he genuinely sounded surprised. You let out a sigh, quietly, you rather not attract his attention.

"Take this." you said as you reached into your pocket and gave him a small pill. "It will help with the pain and... delusions."

"I'm not delirious. I'm only in love."

"Even worse."

"You could say that again." he let out another sigh, your eyes never left his face.

He was handsome, way too handsome for his own good.

He looked so good with a longer beard, it did things to you. You remember when you first met him his face was shaved. It was months ago, and it always felt like you two have been dancing around each other.

And now, in this unfortunate situation, you two confessed your feelings. Even if his mind was foggy due to the blood loss.

You knew his words rang with the truth. You weren't stupid, you knew exactly what was between you two, and was unsaid.

But you knew it could never be more than the looks you gave each other, the usual bantering, filled with flirting and sarcasm.

It was good, it was unsaid, but a simple wound ruined it, and he didn't even know what he had just done.

And he didn't realize until you saved him and he was in the hospital wing.

It was a slow process, having to move him to safety and not getting caught, but you managed.

After all, you were the best.

The nurse explained to you that he was sleeping, but he wasn't.

He laid awake, recalling everything he said and did. He would have regretted it if it wasn't for you. He was ready to apologise and pretend it never happened but you reciprocated his feelings.

You told him that you liked him, you smiled at him so sweet and patched up his wound. You didn't pull away or frown, you stayed and told him that you liked him as well.

Two days passed since you last seen John.

He called you into his office the third day, needing to "have a talk in private".

You assumed he would ask you to forget everything he said and move on.

You sat in front of him and he finally looked at you.

"I can't say my words were lies. I cannot and will not say that I don't feel a certain affection towards you. But our line of work is not made for relationships and feelings. I cannot go on a mission, worrying about you when I have three other men by my side. It wouldn't be fair."

"You wouldn't have to worry, Sir. Laswell asked me to work with her, we would work on strategies and come up with new trainings. Since I proved I know how to handle even the most extreme hostage situations, she wants my knowledge on paper. We wouldn't have to hide, John." you watched him as he processed the information. "If you want to, of course." you quickly added and he suddenly stood up, scaring you enough to jolt up as well.

You did it in defence, it was, after all, part of your training.

John rounded the table and stopped in front of you.

"Of course, I want you." the way he said it, with such desperation in his voice, made you weak.

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him down to kiss you.

Your lips collided with his and it all felt so right.

It was something you have longed for for months now.

Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @brascaris @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

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hellfirebarnes · 1 month ago

Text

Slow-Burns Part 7

@crowleythesexydemon

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 8

I split this up in several, shorter parts because I know the feeling when you want to read a fic but don't have the time or energy to get through a 10k+ words one. Also if you hate my writing you can just read part 1 and then leave it. Win-win I guess?

Anyway, this is set after Thunderbolts so if you haven't seen it - spoilers I guess? It absolutely does not follow canon, but yeah better to be safe than sorry.

Summary: Bucky has fallen. Hopelessly. And the only thing more hopeless is his team trying to help him get to the end of this slow-burn.

Bucky x fem!SHIELD!reader

1.3K Words

Fluff, ''normal'' violence and descriptions of injuries. For sure out of character stuff, but I am who I am. Your appearence is barely desribed what I can remember, I think your hair and a couple types what clothes you're wearing?

You're referred to as ''Agent'' and ''Sunshine'' in a desperate attempt from me to not use Y/N.

Let me know if there's anything else I should warn about.

Otherwise, enjoy :)

Bucky entered the kitchen like it was enemy territory. He had a mission. A plan. A mental flowchart.

Step One: Talk to you. Like a normal person.

Step Two: Make you laugh. Naturally.

Step Three: Try not to die of mortification.

He found you exactly where he knew you’d be - sitting on the counter, legs swinging, cradling a cup of coffee, and arguing with John over who should’ve made breakfast.

“I made coffee,” John was saying.

“That’s not food,” you replied. “That’s a coping mechanism.”

Bob was hovering near your knees, head resting on his arms on the counter like a golden retriever who needed constant emotional validation. Alexei stood near the fridge humming something suspiciously like a wedding march.

Bucky cleared his throat.

You looked up immediately, eyes lighting up. “Hey! You’re up early.”

“Thought I’d make pancakes,” he said. Casual. Like a completely chill person who didn’t spend last night writing your name in a notebook like a high schooler with a crush.

Yelena, passing through, stopped mid-step.

John blinked. “You?”

Bob gasped. “That’s so romantic.”

You looked at him, surprised. “You don’t have to do that.”

Bucky gave a tight smile. “I want to.”

He grabbed the mixing bowl before anyone could say anything else, hands already shaking slightly. You slid off the counter to help, bumping your shoulder against his as you reached for the flour.

“I didn’t know you cooked,” you said.

“I don’t. Much. Learning.” He glanced at you - close, warm, smiling. He was definitely going to burn these pancakes.

Twenty minutes later the pancakes were… edible. Mostly.

You laughed after biting into one. “You added cinnamon?”

“I read it softens the taste.”

“I like it.”

Alexei smacked Bucky on the back. “He’s cooking for you! This is phase one! Courtship begins!”

“Alexei,” Bucky said through gritted teeth.

“He’s starting the ritual!” Alexei declared to the room like a town crier.

John groaned into his coffee. “I can’t be here for this.”

“I live for this,” Yelena said, smirking.

Bob practically sparkled. “You’re courting her like a storybook prince! That’s so pure.”

Bucky was going to need another war to hide in.

But then you leaned in closer and whispered, “Don’t let them scare you off. This is really sweet, Bucky.”

He didn’t speak. Couldn’t. Just nodded, ears burning.

Later that day, the team had scattered to their usual haunts. You sat on the floor near the couch, surrounded by polaroids and a sketchbook. You were humming to yourself, completely at ease.

Bucky stood in the doorway for several seconds before Ava passed by and bumped his shoulder. “You survived step one.”

“I almost choked on cinnamon batter.”

“Still counts.”

He hesitated, then moved into the room and sat on the floor across from you.

You glanced up. “Hey again.”

“Whatcha working on?” he asked, leaning closer.

“Just sorting through the mess. Trying to figure out which of these deserve wall space.” You lifted a polaroid of you and Yelena caught mid-laugh, flour on your faces. “This one’s a strong contender.”

He spotted one of him and Bob crammed into frame, Bob holding up peace signs while Bucky looked halfway to escaping. With you in the middle - beaming.

“You should put that one up,” he said, pointing to it.

You laughed. “You think?”

He nodded. “You look happy in it.”

You looked at him, just a moment too long. “So do you.”

And for one terrifying, beautiful second, he felt like a guy who might actually deserve a moment like this.

Alexei was hiding behind a plant, whispering:

“Mission Update: The Boy has made Contact. He has Initiated Pancakes. We are Go for Operation: Barnes Gets the Girl. I repeat—Go.”

Ava, who was walking by, stopped and looked at him. “Alexei, you’re talking into a fork.”

“It’s a metaphor.”

It had taken days. He’d mentally rehearsed it during missions, in the shower, in quiet elevator rides. Hell, he’d even gone back to that stupid notebook, where Operation: Court Sunshine now had a small constellation of checkmarks beside things like:

• “Make her laugh” ✅

• “Don’t combust while making pancakes” ✅

• “Speak actual words” (working on it)

Now it was time for the next terrifying step.

Step 4: Ask her out. Alone. For real. Like a grown man.

He found you finishing up a cooldown stretch, flushed from sparring with Ava, hair pulled back, eyes bright with victory.

“Hey,” he said, trying not to sound like a nervous wreck.

You beamed. “Hey, you missed it - Ava nearly threw me through the wall.”

“I’m sure the wall deserved it.”

You laughed. Victory.

Encouraged, he cleared his throat. “So, uh. I was thinking. Maybe we could-” He coughed. “You know... Go somewhere.”

Your head tilted. “Like a mission?”

“No-no, not a mission. Like a… not-mission.”

“…A recon?” you guessed.

He blinked. “Not really...more like… I was thinking we could check out that new place downtown. The café. You mentioned it. The one with the plants?”

“Oh!” your face lit up. “That place looks so cute!”

He nodded, nerves clawing at him. “So. Maybe this weekend?”

“Totally! I’ll tell the others!”

He froze. “Wait - others?”

Too late.

Saturday Bucky stood beside you outside the greenhouse-style café with a polite, quiet smile and the sinking feeling of a man who had just asked someone out on a date - but instead accidentally created a social event.

Because walking toward you were all of them.

Bob waved enthusiastically from a block away.

Yelena had sunglasses and iced coffee already in hand. “Who decided brunch? I love brunch.”

John looked at Bucky with unfiltered judgment. “This was your idea?”

Alexei was dressed like a suburban dad on vacation, arms wide. “It’s a beautiful day for love!”

You looked delighted. “This is gonna be so fun.”

Bucky wanted the ground to swallow him.

Inside the café, Bucky sat squished between a hanging fern and Bob, who had somehow already convinced you to sit beside him and was telling you an enthusiastic story about a stray cat he’d met that morning. Yelena was stealing sips of your drink. John kept playing with the salt shaker like it might explode. Alexei was… filming something?

Every time Bucky opened his mouth to say something to you, someone else got there first.

“So then I told the cat, ‘You deserve love too!’” Bob was saying.

You giggled.

Bucky tried again. “So, about this-”

“Oh! Look at this cake!” you gasped, turning to Yelena. “We have to try that.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair. He was two inches from a potted monstera and one emotional breakdown from giving up entirely.

“Honestly,” John muttered, “this is painful.”

Bucky shot him a look. “What is?”

“You. This.” He gestured broadly. “You tried to ask her out and now we’re all here. Like emotional bodyguards.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“She doesn’t know it was supposed to be a date, does she?”

“No,” Bucky grumbled.

Alexei plopped down across from them, slapping a muffin onto Bucky’s plate. “This is good for the heart! Resistance builds character. Fight for her!”

“I was trying not to make it a fight,” Bucky muttered.

Alexei winked. “That was your first mistake.”

The group had splintered a bit as they walked back, with Bob bouncing between every conversation and John loudly arguing with a pigeon about sidewalk ownership. You slowed your pace next to Bucky, sipping the last of your coffee.

“Thanks for suggesting that,” you said. “It was nice. Really chaotic, but nice.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, watching you smile. “It was… something.”

You glanced up at him. “You okay?”

He hesitated. Then nodded. “I will be.”

You didn’t ask what he meant. Just bumped your shoulder gently against his. You walked a little closer after that.

And even though Bucky had failed spectacularly at asking you out - he still wrote “Step 4.5: Try again” in his notebook that night.

#bucky barnes #james barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x you #james bucky barnes

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lolitastories · 5 months ago

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Before You Go

Thomas Shelby

It wasn’t how I planned it, no. We were supposed to be together, then eventually we would marry. I would finally be able to hold him without care and finally when we think we are the most happy, we would expand our family to three. “Hello?” I looked up from my shivering hands to a head, peaking around the wall. I stood to my feet when I saw those familiar eyes and soon enough he moved around the corner and into full view.

“Thomas?” My voice was shaky but somehow audible. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you,” His eyes stayed glued to the floor as he walked closer to me. A voice full of shyness and uncertainty. I knew it was none of that. I knew why he was here and why he stood like a puppy with his tail between his legs. “I-” I needed him to say it, I needed him to tell me everything was going to be okay. “I-Ada said you weren’t feeling well,” Although I knew he was hiding something and it was hard for him to say, I couldn’t stop my heart from fluttering when he cared for me.

“Tommy,” I say quieter. His eyes finally met my gaze, I took this time to walk forward and place my hand on his chest. My fingers tracing the white buttons on his light warm blue shirt. It was my favorite shirt on him, it made his blue eyes seem even brighter, calmer,and gentle.

“I remember the last time you got sick-” He let out a quick chuckle. “A little fever and you were crying in your bed for the rest of the day,” I joined his laughter as he reminisced about that day. In my defense, I don’t normally get sick so it was scary when I came down with a fever. “Under the covers eating your soup, messy hair, runny nose, and sobbing.” If I wasn’t already red, having Thomas find me that day like that he probably thought my fever was higher than it actually was. “Can’t have you feel down,” The smile faded from my lips. I start remembering this time I wasn’t sick or down because of some fever, this was because of him this time. This time I wanted to hide under my covers and cry because of him. But then I would die of hunger or maybe dehydration from all the crying, it would be some hard years to come.

“Tommy,” I said again. This time with a more pleading voice and with my fingers pulling on his collar. The unbalanced pull made him lean forward and he used my hip to stabilize himself. As I focused on his eyes, it was the first second that broke me. He was actually looking right at me which made tears start to fill my eyes. His eyes soften at the wreck I was about to become, he leans forward resting his forehead against mine. It was a sigh of relief to feel him here, I closed my eyes and multiple tears slipped away.

“I will be back,” He promised, I know he did. People called me stupid for trusting the Shelbys but even if I saw a million blades in a pit, I would jump. I would jump if they told me it was okay. Can’t say my family was too happy about it but they also knew they couldn’t stop me from befriending all the Shelby’s. First it was John, then Ada, Thomas followed shortly and well Arthur, he took a while. “I will be right back here, where I belong.” His sweet voice was calming. It wasn’t long before Thomas started his light touches. First it was a hand on my shoulder, a normal hug or two. What made my heart leap for the first time was when he kissed my forehead and ran off. I was like a zombie going about my day. I layed in my bed that night with thoughts of him. If it wasn’t for small rocks hitting my window that I would notice the sun slowly rising from the horizon. And there he was, the guy who was making me lose sleep. “Do you remember what I told you that day?” He pushes his head back, making me open my eyes. I do. That early morning I went running down stairs, not even caring to grab a coat for the November air. Quietly I sneak out so anyone in my house wouldn’t hear.

“I remember my mother screaming at you,” I laughed to suppress the sobs that wanted to start. “I remember before that,” I searched his eyes, they were filled with anticipation. “You kissed me.” He lowered his brows like a sigh of relief. I could feel his fingers slowly trailing to wrap me fully in his arms. My eyes switch to glimpse at his lips. The lips that so tenderly guided mine. How warm and sweet he was in the haze of time. My mother didn’t hear the conversation but even if she did, that wouldn’t stop her from screaming from the top of her lungs when she saw Thomas and I wrapped up in our own little world. Her daughter is outside with a boy kissing! What would the neighbor say?

“I remember.” My eyes flick back but not before seeing a faint grin on his face. “Can’t forget something like that,” I smile.

“I can say the same thing about your words.” We were back to reality. I loosen up my finger that was practically allowing me to hang from his collar. The move with enough pace to cup his face. Those words caused happiness when now the only thing it did was bring pain to my heart.

“What I said was true,” He cupped my face desperately seeing how my mood fell. My hands fell to my side as my mind told me to give up. “I loved you then, when we first met.” I fight the tears back trying to look up but Thomas pulls me now making me look at him. “I loved you then, I love you now and I will love you no matter how many years go by!” That broke me. No matter how many years go by. Sounds like a sweet forever but in reality we don’t know how many years we were talking about. The war could take 1 year or maybe 10. A couple of years of pain then followed by happiness, Or a lifetime of mourning. This could be the last time he holds me close. “Can you wait for me?” Yes, It didn’t take me a second to know the answer.

“Can you come back to me?” I didn’t cry. I looked up and I didn’t cry. His shoulder fell and he slowly began to nod. “Then I will wait for you,” We both shared a smile which in no time was interrupted with a kiss. This compared nothing to the first one. His thumb grazed my cheek as he pulled us closer. As his lips moved against mine I felt my heart stop, the moment of sadness was a thing of the past. My lips followed him as he broke apart for air. We are back to being stupid kids in love, who don’t have to say goodbye, at least not for right now.

“I love you.” Thomas smiled, His eyes crinkling at the corners. “I will always love you,” That time he whispered it, almost making it seem like he was keeping it a secret. A secret so no one, not even the universe could hear. So no one could ruin it, and I made the same promise back.

“I love you Tommy.”

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montalabo · 5 days ago

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SENTRYAGENT THUNDERBOLTS*

Sentryagent won't be made canon by Marvel, but I love the relationship.

John

John always did what was expected of him : good son, good friend, good soldier, ... Except for Olivia because I think he was really in love.

He never explored who he really was.

I think john is bisexual. He must have been attracted to men, but having been in a relationship since he was 16, he hasn't wanted to explore that side of himself. He moved on quickly.

He is offered the chance to become Captain America. For him, it's the Grail, his reward after so much effort. But from then on, nothing goes as planned. John loses everything: his best friend, his career, his wife and his son.

John sinks into depression.He ends up doing what he knows best, fighting without a future.

Until the day he arrived in the vault. He meets Ava and Yelena, but especially Bob. John's shield accidentally opens the bob's capsule/airlock. He allows Bob to live again.

John is attracted to Bob and doesn't know how to handle it. John does what he always does, trying to impress Bob but also the girls by taking the lead, but the effect is the opposite of what he's looking for, so he's rejected. Girls make fun of him and bob ends up calling him an asshole. John takes it very hard. He tackles Bob against the wall.

During the film, John goes from leader to follower in a team. In the post-credits scene, we see him more at ease. John is not cut out to be a leader but he remains a protector with Bucky, Bob, civilians especially with Bob.

Bob

Bob was abused by his father. Bob confesses to Yelena that he has always had both phases of depression and euphoria. His bipolarity began in childhood without any diagnosis. Bob compensated by taking drugs to stabilize his mood swings. Bob ended up on the streets, and had to live a difficult and dangerous life. There are a lot of drug addicts who have to work as prostitutes or drug mules. He accepts to become a guinea pig for OXE.

Bob is either Bisexual or Gay. I don't think he has a healthy, stable love life.

In the Vault, Bob emerges from his capsule not knowing why he's there. Apparently, he doesn't remember all the tests perfomed by OXE.

Bob has a crush on John from the start, but regrets it as soon as John starts acting like an asshole. Bob must have thought, "I'm stupid, I have a crush on someone who's as big an asshole as my dad." Bob is aware of his crush and it pisses him off. That's why Bob pushes his buttons, calling him an asshole. Bob calls John, Walter instead of Walker because John calls him Bobby instead of bob. He also feels that John undervalues him.

It's not for nothing that john had to deal with the Void and Sentry in the vault. John has an emotional impact on Bob. Yelena has also been in the Void, but that's accidental. Bob understands the mechanism and takes John along on purpose. When Bob becomes Sentry, he asks John to call him Sentry and not Bobby. It's a way of saying to John, don't underestimate me.

In the Void, John protects Bob from his father, the chiken-meth...Bob begins to change his opinion of John.

The Void stabs him and ties him up, while the others are only tied up. John has more impact than the others.

Yelena is the first to come and join Bob, and John is the second. These are the two people who have the most impact on Bob.

Back in New York, Bob has memory loss, but deep down he knows that John isn't just an asshole; he can behave, and protector.

A possible relationship?

Yes, but over time. John and Bob have stability to find first.

John needs to solve his childcare problems and Bob needs to stabilize his illness.

John gives Bob a framework and stability. Bob will allow John to explore who he is. They can give each other a second life.

They may begin to bond during an evening or a day when they're both alone in the watchtower. This will force them to talk together and see that they have things in common.�� Later, they'll voluntarily do activities together and get closer.

I'm thinking of a secret relationship at first, but nobody will be fooled.

#sentryagent #thunderbolts

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phoebeegreen3 · 2 months ago

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Capri Persson (F1) ⸺ 05. FEMALE DISAPPOINTMENT

🏎 SUMMARY: What if the best driver of recent years isn't actually him? What if the best driver is actually hiding something else? Would he still be the best? Or just a simple fraud? 📓 GENRE: secret identity / rivals to lovers / he felt first, she felt harder / soulmates / slow burn 📧 WORD COUNT: 3373 📬 PARTS: book one (two parts) / CP9, book two (one part) 🏁TAGLIST: @heyyurl @dreadity @moonchouus @wierdflowerpower @anunstablefangirl @deaddumblbumble @a-bbles (let me know in the comments if you want to be part) 🏆 CAPRIPERSSON.MASTERLIST

Melbourne, Australia. April, 2023

"I know there’s a good chance I’ll get this back because you refuse to go, but either way, I’d like you to keep it. I also know what you’re thinking—don’t worry about the money, although I stand by the fact that women’s clothing should be cheaper and equivalent to men’s. Think of it as a nice gift from me and Laila, who took over two hours to decide which one would suit you best. If only she knew the only thing you wear are pants and a uniform with that helmet. I hope to see you there and good luck with the race.

—Mick."

That’s what the card said—the one that came with the elegant white designer bag left in my room while I was out. I reread it a couple of times while watching the sunset through the hotel window, overlooking the track, biting my nails. I took out the dress the friendly couple had given me, folded perfectly and meticulously in a box with special paper. It was a black strappy dress with rounded edges at the neckline and small, neat sequins that gave it a special shimmer, almost invisible in the dark. Not bad, I suppose. I didn’t usually wear dresses; when I had to dress up, it was always two-piece suits—comfortable outfits that didn’t show too much. The one Laila had picked for me fell below the knees and was fitted at the torso. When I tried it on, I complimented her good taste, but I felt incredibly strange. Deep down, though, I knew it wasn’t because of the dress.

A damn panic attack in the car had cost me the first place.

As soon as the team’s medical staff left the motorhome room that evening, having concluded from what I told them that it had just been a panic attack, Jean stared at me in silence, her face pale. I knew she was dying to say “I told you so” for all the times she’d told me to see a psychologist after last season’s finale. But I always brushed it off, even if that didn’t mean I didn’t care. It was extremely and stupidly important to me, and that’s why it felt ridiculous. What am I supposed to say when I sit in front of a psychologist and they ask why I think I’m there? “I lost an important race and came in second”? Seriously? It seemed too absurd to consult someone else over something I knew I could fix myself. And the only way to fix it on my own was to face it and overcome it. The only way was to win, no matter how much I lost in the process. Because the thing is... I had already lost everything in that last corner, so everything I was risking was just the ghost of what I’d already lost and still believed I had.

“John was calling you over the radio seconds before the end, and you didn’t respond,” Jean said, leaning back against one of the walls in front of me, arms crossed. Someone knocked on the door.

“Persson, it’s me, Franz,” came a voice from the other side. Jean didn’t give me time to answer.

“Give us a moment, Franz,” she replied, still by the closed door and unmoving. She paused, and the silence allowed me to hear how hard my heart was trying to calm down. “Is this how it’s going to be all season? Or are you going to take responsibility and admit you need help?”

All I could do was look her in the eyes. No words would come out.

Jean shook her head and left the room, giving Franz space to enter, followed by John. I hadn’t even taken off my race suit.

“What happened?” Franz asked, pulling up a chair to sit across from me, elbows resting on his knees.

“It’s nothing. It won’t happen again,” I downplayed it. “We made up for it in the pits anyway, we should be celebrating,” I pretended everything was fine, because it’s weird when your boss and your engineer look at you confused, completely baffled. How was it possible that I had overtaken 19 positions in 26 laps and ended up like this? I was sure both had been informed about the verdict on what had happened, but I didn’t know how serious they thought it was.

“We’ll review what happened and talk to the team, okay? Other than that... I only have congratulations for you, Capri. Big and heartfelt congratulations. What you did out there today was priceless,” Franz smiled, trying to cheer me up. I smiled back with tight lips, knowing I had a long write-up about my perspective on the race waiting for the press.

"It would’ve been way better if I had just overtaken Max and hadn’t frozen up like that," I thought while smiling. And a few hours later, that’s all I could think about, sitting on the bed in my hotel room, wearing the dress Laila and Mick had bought me for the after-race party. My hair was a mess and my face was hiding a bitter mix of guilt, disappointment, and pain.

I didn’t want to sleep that night. If the memories came while I was wide awake and lucid, I couldn’t imagine how they’d hit me in my dreams. But I also couldn’t bring myself to sit in a corner of the room in silence and relive that moment over and over again involuntarily. Training all night would kill me, not to mention I doubted they’d let me use the hotel gym all night. Walking until dawn wasn’t an option either, so I looked at the champagne bottle that had been brought to my room as a congratulatory gift and opened it, still in the dress, hair undone. I took a long gulp, holding my breath, until I felt it was enough. Half the bottle was already in my system.

I turned on my phone and called Mick.

“The dress is beautiful,” I said when he answered. “But I won’t be able to wear it if you don’t send me the party address.”

“Are you serious? I’ll send it right now. Want us to pick you up?” he asked excitedly.

“I’ll let you know when I get there. See you soon,” I hung up and took off the dress to shower. I wasn’t ready to face this night alone.

If there was one thing that made me feel like I didn’t belong in the world of racing drivers, it was the excessive, grotesque luxury they all lived in. The watches, the brands, the outfits, the attitude, the houses, the apartments, the parties, the cars. Insanely fast machines that spent most of their time locked away in garages because they were too expensive to drive, waiting for extravagant parties to make their grand appearances.

When Mick sent me the address, I didn’t hesitate to look it up first. It wasn’t a nightclub, nor an event hall—something in between. It was the top floor of one of the most luxurious buildings in the city, with a view of everything and a huge rooftop. After my shower, I called a cab, and when I arrived, the street was overflowing with luxury and high-end cars.

A racing driver’s salary depended on performance and team, and ranged in the high six or seven figures. Most blew it all on extravagance, and while I wasn’t exactly an exception, I still wasn’t fully aware of how much I earned—partly because I preferred to donate to charity, and partly because I didn’t manage my accounts. After a long debate, Jean and I agreed on hiring a financial advisor to handle that. I did have a lifestyle to maintain alongside my career, but I didn’t need the other things most drivers relied on—like their carefully crafted image.

I couldn’t deny it felt weird getting out of a taxi on a street corner while everyone entering the building stepped out of absurdly expensive sports cars. But I had nothing to prove—I was just one of the crowd tonight, and my goal was to keep the tormenting thoughts at bay. As long as I kept them away, I could handle this.

Lewis Hamilton stepped out of his iconic Ferrari and handed the keys to the valet while discreetly smiling at a few cameras. I could tell he thought I was a fan trying to get a picture with him as we entered, but when I didn’t follow the expected script, the moment turned awkward. At the reception, Mick was waiting to hand me my VIP pass. There wasn’t a word strong enough to express how much I hated all of this.

“Laila’s upstairs,” he warned me as he put the wristband on and greeted Lewis, who waited for him to go up in the elevator. I got through security quickly and followed the two drivers. “Lewis, this is...”

“America,” I jumped in, seeing the uncertainty in Mick’s eyes.

“Pleasure,” said Lewis with a smile, shaking my hand. “Have we met before?” he asked, frowning as he studied my face in the elevator.

“I’ve worked for AlphaTauri for a few years,” I admitted.

“Oh, cool. They’re having quite a season. Congrats on today, by the way. Persson never ceases to impress,” he praised, and Mick had to hide his smile by looking ahead.

“Yeah, he’s really good,” I nodded. “But he could’ve finished first today.”

“I don’t know if my contract allows me to say this, but between us, I think Capri Persson is one of the best drivers out there right now,” Mick added warmly, and Lewis laughed like it was a joke. I glanced at Mick, a bit confused, and he winked at me. Sometimes Mick’s warmth and innocence were exactly what this harsh world needed.

The three of us walked down a hallway to the party, and we could hear the music from three floors down in the elevator. Greetings and praise came quickly for both drivers. Today’s podium had been special—after the photo with the trophies (Max first, me second, Lewis third), an outlet had published an article titled: “Capri Persson and the End of the Verstappen-Hamilton Dispute.” In short, it talked about how my presence in AlphaTauri was widening the gap between the two drivers and teams, even leading to alliances to stop Persson’s meteoric rise. It was funny to read the circus that was sports and media journalism—how harsh they were on everyone and how dramatic their headlines were for mostly mediocre, often false stories. But I couldn’t deny that I’d read it again just to boost my mood and confidence after this rough streak.

Mick led me to Laila, and I was genuinely happy to see her. Even though it killed me that Mick had to lie to her about all this, he had accepted it was something he had to do and promised to keep the secret from the moment he agreed. That was probably the heaviest burden of all—that those who knew the truth had to lie so shamelessly to the rest of the world. But he kept saying it was something everyone agreed to for Capri.

“God, you look stunning in that dress,” Laila said, taking my hand to admire me.

“Me? Have you looked in a mirror? Laila, you look absolutely gorgeous,” I replied.

“Oh, don’t say that twice, you’ll boost my ego.”

“I’ll say it as many times as needed, babe. If Mick doesn’t treat you right, you know my number,” I joked, and Mick widened his eyes in mock surprise as we laughed.

“Could you two stop flirting in front of me?”

“Micky!” we heard someone yell through the crowd and music. With his iconic smile—better known as “the grid smile”—Daniel appeared, greeting people on his way to us.

“Danny!” Mick hugged him as soon as the Aussie reached us. “You know Laila,” he pointed to his girlfriend, and she greeted him. “This is America, she works for AlphaTauri.”

“I’m Daniel, but call me Danny,” he said, smiling as he looked at me, and when I offered my hand, he pulled me into a hug—or more like an awkward shoulder bump. Someone else called for Mick, stealing his attention, and Laila told me to find her later to dance as she walked away with him. Danny leaned toward me.

“How have I never seen you around? There are always engineers, mechanics, drivers, assistants... Are you new?”

“Sort of,” I replied. “I’ve worked with the team for a while, but I don’t usually come to places like this.”

“What’s your role?” he asked, nearly shouting over the music.

“Assistant.”

“To...?” Daniel frowned.

“Capri Persson,” I answered confidently. That was the story the world believed about America, and that was the story I had to maintain—at least for now. Daniel made a funny face, sympathizing with me before laughing.

“Rough day?” he asked, amused.

“Horrible,” I confessed, and somehow it was extremely easy to talk to Daniel.

“Let me take care of that,” he licked his lips and smiled mischievously. “May I?” he asked, taking my hand, and for a moment, I panicked about what might happen next. Half a bottle of champagne had brought me here, and now I was questioning whether it was a good idea to mix my low alcohol tolerance with my blind obsession with bad decisions. But Daniel was a gentleman when he asked if he could take my hand and pull me to the bar.

“For an assistant, you still have a lot of hair—and very beautiful hair, by the way” he joked, and I nodded. I had indeed suffered major hair loss that winter.

“It’s not as bad as you think.”

“No?” he raised an eyebrow. “Order whatever you want, it’s on the house,” he offered, and though I hesitated, I couldn’t resist.

“Something strong,” I told the bartender, raising my voice over the music, and turned back to Daniel. “Capri’s not a monster,” I added.

“You know him?”

“I guess,” he smiled without showing his teeth, and our drinks were placed on the bar. Thinking about Capri made me think of Abu Dhabi, of that afternoon. Thinking of Capri meant thinking of the second after Verstappen. It meant thinking about everything I had lost—and was still losing. It meant remembering the pain of the lonely winter and the anxiety in the car.

After a big gulp of whatever I had ordered, I didn’t want to think about Capri anymore. I didn’t want to think about racing, or drivers, or second place finishes, or panic attacks.

“Uhh, I love this song,” Danny exclaimed, moving his shoulders with joy, and I smiled.

“What are you waiting for?” I held out my hand, and Daniel smiled playfully as I pulled us to the dance floor, under the colorful lights and shiny disco balls. I didn’t recognize the song, but America didn’t need to recognize the song to dance. America didn’t hesitate to dance with strangers in public. America was fun, sarcastic, and outgoing. America didn’t think about racing or failure. America didn’t look much like Capri. And instead of thinking about the problems that created, I let go on a dance floor full of strangers—people I probably worked with every weekend—in a Melbourne club.

I don’t know how long we stayed in that time warp, dancing freely, face to face, without any physical or eye contact. We were both in our own little bubbles, feeling the effect of that first drink, yet never straying far from each other, like we had silently agreed to some unspoken deal. When the music softened, I gathered my hair in my hands to get it off my face and let my neck breathe.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to the group,” Daniel whispered in my ear, and I froze. I wasn’t very interested in talking to anyone I competed with, and although Daniel was the exception—being Red Bull’s reserve driver this season—I didn’t plan to take things further. But I was slightly tipsy and needed air, so I didn’t mind taking his hand and letting him lead me to the big rooftop.

Outside, a fresh, soothing breeze wrapped around me like a blanket in bed, and I breathed deeply, following Daniel toward a more private area of the venue—couches arranged in circles, a VIP bar, and a space full of drivers, mechanics, and people from the business.

“Danny!” someone called out excitedly—and I immediately recognized the voice.

It was Pierre.

“Pierre Gasly!” Daniel exclaimed with a laugh, and everyone turned to look at us. Daniel was still holding my hand over his, and when Pierre approached us, he gave me a curious and confused look.

“I know I know you,” he said, squinting at me.

“That was fast,” Carlos laughed, pointing at our joined hands. He immediately held out his open hand to Checo Pérez, who shook his head and pulled out a few bills to hand over. “Ricciardo first to fall. You never disappoint, Danny. You just made me a few bucks.”

“No, no. It’s not like that—this is América,” he said, unlinking our hands and placing his on my back. Now it was Checo who held his hand out to Carlos to get his money back. “She’s Persson’s assistant.”

“Of course!” Pierre said with a smile. “Sorry, must be the alcohol—I didn’t recognize you,” he said, stepping forward to greet me.

“Persson?” Lando frowned, seated next to Carlos.

“Can you believe it?” Danny laughed.

“There are some bad jobs out there, but choosing to be Capri Persson’s assistant… that takes guts,” Charles admitted, leaning toward us to offer me his hand. “Charles, nice to meet you.”

“Hard not to know,” I smiled back. “You were pretty easy today.”

“Oh, she knows her stuff,” Carlos joked. “Carlos, but you can call me whatever you like. I already like you a lot,” he added, also reaching out to shake my hand. I pressed my lips together with a smile. “Come, sit with us. We need to interrogate you about Persson.”

“Leave her alone. Can’t you see she needs a break?” I heard from behind me and quickly turned around at the sound of her voice. Carmen smiled at me and came over to hug me in greeting. “It’s good to see you, Am.”

“Thanks, again,” I sighed, and she waved it off with a flick of her hand.

“Well then…” Daniel interrupted. “Where’s the champ?!” he exclaimed, and a change in the lights signaled his arrival. Everything happened quickly, and seconds later Max stepped onto the rooftop with the trophy in hand, and everyone clapped and praised him.

I stood frozen right there. América couldn’t help it. Nothing and no one could stop it. Because there was a bitter feeling in my chest and the memory of my hands tingling in the cockpit and that night in Abu Dhabi watching the car burn in front of my eyes, just meters from the finish line, watching the streamers fall on the track and the fireworks explode in the dark sky over the champion.

Male ego was one thing. It completely thrived in a competition like this. They would all yell, stomp, and complain if necessary. That male ego was so shallow and praised that no one would ever dare to crush it. But female disappointment was something far more powerful.

Male ego created drivers filled with rage and ambition, ready to destroy every piece of their car if they lost. But female disappointment—my female disappointment—watched my car burn in flames while the man crossed the finish line. This female disappointment observed and brewed in silence; it was stealthy, not aggressive nor obvious. This disappointment killed you slowly and painfully, only to leave you dying in the ashes from which it forced you to rise again. There was no rage or ambition—only the crack and grief of my disappointment.

And there I was. Feeling the flames of that female disappointment burning inside me. That winter had completely consumed me, and I had gathered every ash with what was left of my soul to rebuild myself in solitude and coldness. But now I could feel the phoenix flames of my disappointment stretching out as I watched him walk past me with that smile, that trophy, and that… male ego.

I don’t know what I would do if I don’t win this championship. But that night, I knew exactly what I would do, because I didn’t want to return alone to that hotel room, sunk in memories and disappointment from a grief I thought I had already overcome.

🚥PREVIOUS: 04. MY BIGGEST FEAR

🏁NEXT: 06. I KNOW HOW IT FEELS LIKE

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dianawinchester03 · 7 months ago

Text

Season 2 Gag Reel

Series Masterlist

Authors Note: After a long, tumultuous, heart wrenching and action packed season….we are BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE BLOOPERS!!

(I’m actually writing this halfway into the season because these damn filler episodes are giving me a FUCKING headache. Not to mention dean and y/n’s IDIOCY so I needed this to give me some ease LOL)

But you guys know how much I love gag reels and bloopers so here’s the bloopers with y/n added to them, I’ve added some of my own because I’m stupid like that so ENJOY! I just watched Deadpool as I’m writing this so there’s gonna be a lot of fourth wall breaks lol.

Side note, I imagine the subway surfers theme song throughout this entire thing so take it as you will lol

____________________________________________

Season 2, Episode 1 - In My Time Of Dying

In the midst of the accident:

The possessed truck driver that crashed into the Impala and Harley purposely, steps out of his truck, black eyed and unharmed. He strolls slowly to the crash site in-front of him. Y/N sprawled out on the road, unconscious. Just meters away from the driver's side door of the Impala. All three Winchester men were also unconscious in the demolished car.

Y/N jolts up, “I’M ALIVE. I’m dead” She sprawls out again, earning questionable looks from the Winchesters.

“I’m watching TV, I’m looking at chu’” She looks at Dean who is seconds away from laughing.

“SHUT UP AND GO ON WITH THE SCENE” Sam groans.

“Fuck you” Y/N huffs, sprawling back out again, sticking out her tongue dramatically as she pretended to play dead while John and Dean burst into hysterics.

🎬🎬🎬

When John gives Dean the ring:

"I just want you to know...that I am so proud of you" John sniffles. "This really you talking?" Dean asks warily, not expecting any of this from his father. "Yeah. Yeah it's really me" John responds smiling as he sniffles.

"Why are you saying this stuff?" Dean asks. John just sighs and takes a seat on his son's bed. He then reaches into his pocket and pulls out an old red velvet box, Dean is confused when John hands it to him.

"Dad, what's this?" He asks his father when he opens it to see white gold princess-cut ring, the diamond was small but dazzling. The band was thin but sturdy. "It's your mothers wedding ring" John answers. Dean's eyes snap up to his fathers in shock.

"Why are you giving me this?" Dean asks his father, stunned. "Because it's always been with me and the right person to give it to is my eldest son" John smiles.

His eyes flicker to the door then back to Dean, "And I think you and I both know, who the right person for you to give that to is" He gives his son a knowing look, Dean's heart swells at this. "I- I don't k-" Dean stutters, his eyes trained on the gorgeous ring.

"It's okay son" John assures him, chuckling. "Y/N is an amazing girl. She didn't leave your side for one sec-” John didn’t get to finish his sentence because Dean immediately tossed off his covers and went bolting down the hall.

He knocked over a couple of nurses and people before approaching a very confused and startled Y/N, getting down on one knee. “Marry me, princess?” he smirked, presenting her the ring as John peered his head out the door with a wide grin.

Y/N lets out a comical and over dramatic gasp, placing one hand over her mouth. “Yes, yes! A million times yes!” She exaggerates, feebly jumping up and down due to her bandaged knee as Dean places the ring on her finger.

Sam then turns to the camera and stares at you, “Between me and you…” He pointed to the pair with his thumb. “That’s how it should’ve went” He whispered, breaking the fourth wall.

🎬🎬🎬

Season 2, Episode 2 - Everyone Love A Clown

When Sam calls Y/N:

Y/N's phone then rings, she hands Dean the stick and bag. Fishing her phone from her jacket pocket, flipping it open to see it's Sam. "Hello?" She answers. Dean then presses his ear to the back of her phone, his light stubble brushing against her smooth cheek. Y/N's heartbeat quickens at their close contact and so does Dean's. "Hey, man" Sam responds shakily.

“You see, when you do shit like that. It makes me wanna lick you” Y/N scoffed, eyeing Dean like a steak.

Dean's brows shot up at this, a wicked smirk taking over his face. “Why don’t you lick me until you find out what’s in the middle of my tootsie pop?” Dean retorted.

“GUYS, FOR GOD'S SAKE. I'M RIGHT HERE!” Sam’s disgusted voice blared through the speaker before turning to the camera.

“Fuckin’ idiots” Sam says to you.

🎬🎬🎬

Season 2, Episode 3 - Bloodlust

Dean apologizing to Y/N for the millionth time:

Dean gives her a soft smile, "Truce?" Y/N puts her hand out for a shake, "Truce" Dean smirks, taking her hand into his. Their eyes meet and in a flash Dean pulls her by her arm into a hug. Wrapping his arms around her waist, Y/N chuckles into the hug, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "You really are a pain in the ass, you know?" Dean jokes, his face buried in her neck.

"Guess I might have to stick around and be a pain in the ass, then" She quipped back, pulling away from the hug. His arms, still around her waist while her arms are still around his shoulders. Her eyes flicker down to his lips, along with his eyes flickering down to her.

Meanwhile, Sam was sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala, watching the two as if they were a chick flick he indulged in. "Just lean in, man. It's not that hard. Come on" Sam mutters to himself as the two eyes pierced into each other. He rolled his eyes when he saw Y/N took her hands off of Dean's shoulder and awkwardly cleared her throat along with Dean, whose face was flushed. "Wussies" Sam scoffs.

Sam: You’d think after so long they’d finally do it. I wonder what’s taking them so long? *mutters before turning to glare at the author*

Sam: I’m looking at you, Diana *glares at author*

Author: *looks around confused* 👀🍿 Me??😳

The readers and Sam: YES YOU!!

Author: *tosses bowl of popcorn in the air* 🏃🏽‍♀️💨

🎬🎬🎬

Season 2, Episode 4 - Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things

Sam bends down to pat the dirt into the grave, poking out his ass a bit further until a loud rip sounds. Y/N’s eyes widened as she tilted her head to see Sam covering up the gaping hole in his pants before bursting out laughing. “FUCK I JUST RIPPED MY PANTS” Sam shouted, holding the hole.

Dean bursted out laughing as Y/N bent over, clutching her stomach from hysteria.

🎬🎬🎬

Season 2, Episode 6 - No Exit

When Ellen calls Sam:

Sam's phone rings. He stands up and he fishes it out of his pocket, pressing it to his ear. "Yeah?" Sam answers as Jo goes through her duffle bag. Sam pauses for a bit before gulping, "Oh, hi Ellen" He says casually, glaring at Jo. Dean and Y/N begin to internally panic as Jo walks closer to Sam. Y/N propped herself on the dining table Sam was at, crossing arms over her chest. Taking in the interaction.

"Don't tell her" Jo whispers to him warningly, pointing a finger at him. "I'm telling her" Sam grits his teeth back, pressing the mic to his shirt so Ellen can't hear. "I'm gonna kill you!" Jo growls lowly. "You're not even supposed to be here!" Sam retorts lowly. The two get into a muttered argument before Sam caves and quickly says, "I haven't seen her" to Ellen.

"...yeah, I'm sure" Sam responds to Ellen, "Absolutely" Sam finishes before hanging up still glaring at Jo who gives him a cute wide cheeky thankful smile. Sam rolls his eyes in annoyance, scoffing a bit but Dean and Y/N manage to catch the little blush on his cheeks.

Y/N: *turns to the camera/you* They’re so into each other.

Dean: Like just kiss already *nudges y/n while wiggling his eyebrows at camera/you*

Readers, Sam and Jo: Speak for yourselves idiots!

🎬🎬🎬

Season 2, Episode 11 - Playthings

When Y/N got drunk and Dean took care of her the next morning:

"I am never drinking again" She moaned as Dean sat back next to her. She dropped her head on his shoulder with a weak whine. Dean chuckled at her statement before pulling her head into his lap, gently resting her head on his thighs. She didn't protest this, being too damn tired and sore to care. "You've said that before, y/n/n" He mocked her, she weakly slapped his thigh in response, making him smirk.

"Shhh" He silenced her, placing his hand on her forehead before threading his fingers through her hair. She groaned a little when he started to gently massage your scalp, but it felt so good. She closed her eyes again, enjoying the feeling of his fingers massaging her head. "God that feels good" She admitted, her body relaxing as he continued massaging her aching head.

“That’s what she said!” Sam shouted from behind the door, causing Dean and Y/N to burst out into laughter. "Oh my god please shut up, Sam" Y/N groaned, rolling onto her side and burying her head into Dean's side. Dean continued laughing at the exchange, continuing to gently massage Y/N's head and neck.

🎬🎬🎬

Season 2, Episode 14 - Born Under A Bad Sign

When they had Meg!Y/N tied to the chair at Bobby’s:

Sam shifted his weight, leaning against the table, folding his arms across his chest. Y/N's eyes moved to him then, a smirk appearing on her face as she raised an eyebrow, "Well, you look better, handsome" She commented. "I'm healing, thanks for noticing" He responded with slight sarcasm.

"How bout I smack that smartass right out of your mouth?" Dean growled. "Oh, careful now" She smirked, "You wouldn't wanna bruise this fine body...or maybe you would?" Sam and Jo shared a glance, hiding their growing smirks as Dean's face twisted with anger. "Shut up" Dean sneered, clenching his fist. She chuckled, "Hit a nerve?" She teased, cocking her head at him, "Aw, did I say something you didn't like?" She pouted, mocking him.

Dean's breathing was ragged, the veins in his head were popping out and Meg was loving every second of it. "Poor Dean and Y/N" She continued to taunt. "You two are like a bad romance novel" She snorted, throwing her head back with a laugh. She then turned to face the author, “Seriously, Diana, quit edging everyone and put these two in the sack already”

Readers: THANK YOU STAN MEG!!

🎬🎬🎬

Season 2, Episode 15 - Tall Tales

When Y/N attacked Dean:

"Damnit Dean, if you don't give back my cigarettes, I'll kick your ass!" She threatened, narrowing her gaze. "Yeah, like you can," Dean mocked, shaking his head as he smirked widely, finding her amusing. She narrowed her eyes at him again, not God himself could stop her this time. So she jumped him, quickly gripping onto his shoulders as her legs wrapped around his waist.

Attacking the elder Winchester, sending him tumbling backwards into the bed, his back hitting the bed first. Her hands gripped his wrists as she tried to get the pack from him, "Give it to me, you asshat!" Y/N shouted as she pinned his wrists on either side of his head. Dean grunted, his body lying flat against the bed, Y/N now straddling him as he struggled in her grip.

"Stop it! Stop it you two!" Sam exclaimed as he snaked his arms around Y/N's waist, trying to pry her off of Dean. "Just give it to her, Dean!" Sam yelled above the sound of the struggling. "No way!" Dean shouted back firmly, squirming under her. "Get off of me you nutcase!!"

Y/N kept a tight grip on his wrists, her thighs squeezing his hips. She ignored him and Sam's words as she continued to fight for his grasp, "You're such a dick, Winchester! Just gimme my damn cigarettes back! I had nothing to do with your car!" She shouted back in his face.

Dean grunted, trying to buck his hips to loosen her grip, but it didn't work as she only responded by squeezing her thighs tighter around him. Sam still attempted to pry her off but she quickly pushed him away, sending it tumbling next to Dean as they continued wrestling.

The two then mischievously smiled at each other before they began to make out furiously, leaving Sam stunned. “WAIT, CUT!! THIS ISNT IN THE SCRIPT!!” He screamed confused.

____________________________________________

Author's Note: Little short but I got it done, sorry about going awol beauties. Currently working on the beginning of Season 3 so that should be out soon! Hope you guys enjoyed❤️❤️❤️

Taglist: @hjgdhghoe @rach5ive @tiggytaylor @star-yawnznn @quarterhorse19

@deangirl96 @bitchykittenconnoisseur @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @mrsjjkwinchester

@juwu-theliciosa @magiccliopleurodon @nesnejwritings @karrah89 @whattheduckisupkyle

@iloveyou2mia @thelittlelightinthedarkness @lmhf1 @littletomboy2 @zigzoggy

@hey-its-zoe @modiddys-blog @thvxr @tommysaxes @cookiemonstermusic258 @elite4cekalyma

@ladykitana90 @strawberrykiwisdogog @barnes70stark

Xoxo

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imaginesbymonika · 2 years ago

Text

Red lights.

Plot: If guilt had a name it would be Dean Winchester.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x sister!Reader

Warnings: mention of violence, mention of Demon!Dean, needles, blood, fluff in the end but only a bit

Everything happened so fast. So very fast.

The red lightning, which emerges from the lamps above you turns the bunker into a place you're unable to recognize. This whole situation has been feeling like a never-ending nightmare for a while and now it was also looking like one. Dean has always reassured you, that while the world around you was filled with ghosts and demons he would always look out for you. And you never questioned him. However, right now, you were hiding from him as if he turned into one of those monsters he swore to protect you from. You look up you can notice it in Sam's eyes. You're not the only one terrified of your oldest brother.

"Smart, Sam. Looking the place down. Doors won't open. I get it." His deep voice is echoing through the empty and cold hallways. "But here's the thing. I don't wanna leave. Not till I find you two."

Your relationship with Dean has always been different from the one you have with Sam. While the younger brother actually feels like a brother to you, Dean has always meant more to you. After all, he practically raised you since you were a little child. However, at this moment, while his hammer was destroying the door, you tried your best to still see him in all of this. He may be a demon, but underneath all of that hatred your brother had to remain… right? But it becomes much more difficult with every second that passes. You take a deep breath.

"Y/N.", Dean suddenly says and Sam instantly pushes you behind his bigger body. "Oh, come on.", you can see how a fake pout emerges on his face:" I just want to talk to my sweet little baby girl." For a moment he lowers his weapon as he stares you down through the shattered wood:" Don't think, that I won't also kill you. I can still sense my love for you, however, it is not enough for me to save you. But if you help me kill Sammy, I might make it quick for you." There's a ringing in your ears. "Don't listen to him.", Sam whispers but his voice is muffled and feels unbelievably far away.

Dean has never ever threatened you. Even when you were much younger and he had earned a beating from John, because of something that you did on his watch… he never ever threatened you before. It was something that seemed impossible to you. But now it had happened and it filled you with an unknown emotion.

"Come on.", Sam speaks and clutches your hand, bringing you back into reality. You two rush through the red hallways and after a minute or two you stop. Sam takes a deep breath and when he turns around to face you, his eyes widen in fear. You don't even have time to properly react before he pushes you to the cold ground. And when you look up, you make eye contact with Dean. His hammer sticking to the wall. It was hurled with such an immense force that it makes your jaw drop.

"Oh man, looks like I missed.", he says softly:" Can I try again?" There is a sincerity in his voice that makes your skin crawl. You nearly throw up. Meanwhile, Sam's knife is close to his throat. So close, it's almost making him bleed.

"Do it!", the oldest brother angrily hisses, his spit dripping down his chin. But Sam's arm just drops after a few seconds. You shut your eyes, not knowing what is about to happen next before you unexpectedly hear Castiel's voice. "It's over!"

You sit on the floor next to the door, your back is leaning against one of the shelves while you observe how Sam pushes yet another needle into your oldest brother's forearm. A weird emptiness has been filling you up for a while now, and while you should be happy that Dean is back at the bunker… you can't help but feel drained. "Are you okay, Y/N?", Castiel asks, and when you eventually tear your eyes off Dean's unconscious body you only nod.

Sam sighs:" He almost killed her." Castiel's eyes widen in shock, as his head snaps towards him. "He did what?" You want to defend Dean, but before you can answer someone groans. Castiel notices how you quickly get up from your spot, and softly nudges you to stand behind him. His grip on his knife tightens to the point where his knuckles are white. Meanwhile, Sam was slowly opening up the bottle with the holy water.

Dean lifts his head and when you notice his black eyes you can't help but feel sick. You quickly turn around and throw up into the corner. Sam and Castiel exchange a quick but worried look. The blackness quickly fades and when his normal eyes scan the room he takes one final deep breath. "You look worried, fellas.", he jokes, but no one laughs. You turn around at the sound of his voice, before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Without waiting a second longer, you snatch the bottle out of Sam's hand and toss the liquid into Dean's face. A pleased sigh escapes your lips when you acknowledge that there is no smoke. "Welcome back, Dean!"

"How is he holding up?"

Sam, who is entering the room looks over at the angel. "Well, he is still a bit out of it, nevertheless, he is doing better." You look up from your book. "The whole thing really took a turn on him- he… he just feels really guilty." The last word leaves Castiels lips as a whisper as if he was hoping you wouldn't hear it. But you did.

A knock on the door catches Dean's attention and he shifts on his bed before sitting up straight:" Yeah?" He expected to see either his brother or Castiel, however when he makes eye contact with you his jaw clenches. "Hey.", you say and slowly walk into his room. You sit down on the edge of the bed. A soft but tired smile emerges on your lips and Dean mirrors it. "Hey."

"I just- I just wanted to check in with you.", you explain and your brother nods. A silence falls over the two of you and you clear your throat:" Remember- Remember when we were younger… you came back from a hunt and you were hurt and John was… god knows where. We didn't have anything in the fridge except for some eggs and cheese."

At that Dean laughs:" And you made me that god-awful omelet? Of course, how could I ever forget about that? My arm was broken and I had the worst stomach pains on top of that." Once again you both sit in silence before Dean runs a hand down his face:" I am so sorry, Y/N." The sound of his voice breaks your heart and you move closer to him:" It's okay, Dee." He just chuckles dry. You know that he won't ever believe you.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester #dean winchester x sister reader #supernatural x sibling reader #spn #supernatural x reader #angst #x reader #supernatural x you #dean winchester x reader fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x reader angst #demon dean

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runnning-outof-time · 2 years ago

Note

John & "Listen to yourself.”

Angst to fluff!

Thanks for sending this in, anon! I’m sorry it took me a bit to get to write it! I hope it’s along the lines of what you were thinking of! Also just try to imagine it’s (Y/N) instead of Esme in the gif - I felt that it fit the scene and couldnt help but use it! Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration - find more stories here!

But I Got Your Mind Off of It

John Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language, mention of a weapon

Word Count: 1111

Summary: John manages to talk (Y/N) off the ledge before she blows up the longest relationship she has over something so silly…which happens to be something she’s also done before.

The sound of the bang that the door closing made was even loud enough to make John Shelby jump. He scrambled from the table he was sitting at to get over to the concealed hole in the wall where a revolver was nestled. He was just about to access it when he noticed who had slammed the door.

“The fuck was that for, (Y/N)?” he asked his wife, his brows furrowing together in confusion.

(Y/N) didn’t hear him though. She was too busy pacing the floor while muttering unintelligible things. Something about someone being stupid and never wanting to see them again. John wracked his brain for a moment, trying to figure out if it was something that he’d done.

He decided to finally approach her when he came up empty. “What’s goin’ on with you, love?” he asked her, hoping that his voice was level enough so that she wouldn’t get set off…even more than she all already had been.

“I just can’t believe she did that to me,” she finally spoke clear enough for John to hear what she was saying.

“Who did what?” John still didn’t quite understand what was going on.

“Mary,” (Y/N) snapped, as if she was annoyed that John hadn’t come into the conversation with all of the details.

But that didn’t stop John from asking more questions. “What did Mary do?” was his next one.

“She stood me up. We had an entire evening planned and then she cancelled last minute!” she didn’t hesitate in sharing her frustrations, aggravation starkly present in her words.

John furrowed his eyebrows as he took a moment to figure out which way he should approach the situation. (Y/N) was not one to be messed with when she was hot about something, and he hadn’t seen her this worked up in a long time. But before he was able to do anything however, (Y/N) was turning to leave the shop.

“That’s it!” she proclaimed as she made for the door, “I’m going to give her a piece of my mind!” She then started angrily walking towards the door. Just as her left hand reached for the knob, her right was pulled backwards. She gasped as she was spun and within seconds, her back was pressed against the brick wall. Her eyes widened as she looked at her husband, who now had her pinned so that she couldn’t leave.

“You’re not going anywhere…not like this, at least,” he told her, speaking in a calm voice because he knew that if he raised it, all hell would break loose.

“Let me go, John,” she huffed, trying, and failing, to break from his grasp.

“Why did she cancel?” he asked, not giving into her wishes.

Lucky for him, (Y/N) was all for giving the details now. “She ditched me to spend time with her new man. We had this night planned for weeks just to have her call me earlier today saying that he’s asked her out for dinner. She’s ditching me for dinner!” She was fuming by the end of her explanation, all of her anger washing back in again. Who ditches their best friend of over 10 years to have dinner with a guy?? The thought of it was absurd!

John searched her eyes for a moment, waiting to see if she had anything else to add. When she stayed silent, he couldn’t help but break into stiffled laughter. This made (Y/N)’s brows furrow. “What the fuck are you laughing about, John?!” she asked incredulously, not sure if she was now more upset with her friend or her husband.

“Listen to yourself, (Y/N),” he began, surpressing his laughter so that a more serious air would fall over the conversation once more.

“What?” she snapped back at him.

“What Mary’s doing…” he started, shaking his head slightly as he snorted to himself, “you did the exact same thing to her when you started seeing me.”

“I did not!” she immediately proclaimed, shocked that he wasn’t taking her side on this matter.

“You absolutely did,” he stood firm with his point.

“Yeah? When?”

“One of the first dates I took you on. I brought you out for dinner, and you told me that you felt so bad for having to cancel your plans with your best friend.”

“Yeah, but…but I felt bad about it,” (Y/N) was quick to point out.

“You don’t think Mary feels bad about it?” John asked with raised eyebrows.

“At least I didn’t cancel the day of!” she pointed out another - what she at least thought was a - flaw in John’s argument.

“Well maybe unlike your amazingly considerate then-boyfriend, now-husband, her boyfriend doesn’t have the same regards to the possibility that Mary had other plans.”

“You’re so full of yourself, John,” (Y/N) snorted as a smile broke passed the deep frown she was wearing.

“Just stating the facts, love,” he winked at her, making her roll her eyes in response. “But I got your mind off of it, didn’t I?” he questioned then.

(Y/N) pursed her lips as she realized what he’d done. Then she silently cursed him and his ability to make her mood change on a dime. She waited a few moments before she, begrudgingly, replied: “you did.”

“Good. Mission accomplished,” he grinned, finally letting go of her hands so that he could settle both of his under her jaw. “Now what I’m hearing from you is…” he paused, licking his lips as his grin grew bigger, “that you’ve got the night free.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes again, trying so hard to keep up the act that she was angry. But it was so damn hard with him looking at her the way he was. “My night is free now,” she finally answered him.

“Which means you’re able to spend it with me?” he checked.

“You don’t have any duties to carry out at the Garrison?” she responded with a question of her own.

“None that are as important as me wife,” he grinned.

“You can be so cheesy sometimes.”

“But I got your mind off of what you were mad about, didn’t I?”

“Just take me out on the town…before I go and change my mind,” she dismissed his question, though the look on her face told him immediately that he was absolutely right.

“You don’t need to ask me twice,” he grinned before he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. “Let’s go,” he said after pulling away, reaching down to take her hand in his and lead her out of the betting shop.

**tagging in a reblog so the notification gets sent out!

MASTERLIST

#john shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby x y/n #john shelby imagine #john shelby blurb #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #k’s 3.5k celebration

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soaps-hoe-141 · 11 months ago

Text

Drowning In The Depths

Hey, life has been busy and rough and I am so sorry it has taken this long but by god I have finally finished so I hope y'all enjoy

Part 13

Pairing: Price x Male!Reader

WC: 9.7k

Synopsis: A stressful flee home

Warnings: Blood but I think that's it

“I can’t do anything else, sir,” quiet words reached your ears as you neared a corner. “We need to leave. Now Price. We never should have stopped in the first place.” There was a slight pause just before the Scotsman continued in this one sided conversation, “The bullet in his abdomen never exited and the one in his thigh barely missed his femoral artery. I can patch up a wound or two but not…” Another pause succeeded in making the worry bubble back up, and so soon after you’d just put it to bed, “Not that.” The admission in Soap’s voice reverberated throughout the stairwell. There was nothing else they could do.

A thought to interrupt slid into your mind, to interject and offer whatever help that you could. No, they obviously wanted privacy and you were going to give it to them. You pressed against the wall of the hallway just beside the doorway, staying where you were just out of sight and therefore out of mind.

They’d had to seek out the solitude of the stairwell to avoid the other team members, and though you weren’t sure exactly why they did at first, you were pretty sure you knew the reason for it now. Though they didn’t seem like the type of team to hide anything from one another, this was a bit different. If Konig had heard Soap talking like that you were almost certain the man would have lost it. No more operator and hello worried best friend who would do anything to protect Watcher.

You reached a hand down to the freshly rinsed fur, your fingers running gently over one of his ears as they continued their hushed conversation inside the stairwell. You could feel John’s concern from here but your blood ran a bit colder when he asked, “Can we even move him, Soap?” There was a tense silence that followed the question, neither daring to say anything for a second before one of them finally let out a breath and you imagined the shorter man giving the Brit an unsure shrug of his shoulders before the older man responded for him, “Dead if we do and dead if we don’t.” John’s hushed tone made your stomach sink, Watcher really was as fucked as you had been afraid of it would seem. Or at least he was on the fence enough that neither were comfortable with the potential outcome.

Soap answered quickly after that realization and you could imagine him nodding along as he did, “Aye sir. There’s nothing more that I can do here. Just keeping him comfortable for now. He’s gonna need another transfusion soon though and I’m out of my O negative. I can’t give anymore blood either, so we have to be fast before he bleeds out. And, you’re going to have to give him some of yours, Price.” You didn’t need to see them in order to picture a tense jaw and the storm in his eyes while his mind whirled, trying to come up with a solution.

You could picture it in your mind, his mustache flaring upwards as his mouth worked in that unique way you’d only ever seen him do. His upper lip not so much curling as it simply seemed to just lift before returning to its resting state. Broad, muscled shoulders undoubtedly tense as he remained unnervingly still in the shadows of the stairwell. Thoughts were whirling through his head at this point, you knew that from your own experiences leading a team. The worries and the potential roads never stopped. A constant circle to get lost in if you weren’t careful. You even found yourself, for a short moment, happy about the fact it wasn’t you that had to make the decision this time. The weight of responsibility had finally been lifted and you enjoyed it, no more tough calls for you.

John not only had to take into account Watcher’s life which hung in the balance, but also the rest of your lives. Hell you’d all been forced to stop the night before to tend to his wounds after he’d nearly bled out in the van with only Amaan’s hate-filled words to drown out the horrendous groans of pain that rattled around the enclosed walls. Though that might have been a bit unfair to Watcher, after all it hadn’t just been his unstoppable bleeding that had forced you to take shelter in the only safe place around that any of you knew. This was a complicated equation that not one team leader you’d ever met had truly wrapped their head around. It was hard to sacrifice a man you spent every day with, even for the good of the others.

And driving in the middle of the day you were sure as hell to hit a roadblock looking specifically for you and your team. Sure night in no way eliminated that possibility but it lessened it a great deal, especially nearly a whole day afterwards. Even if you were to hit a roadblock in the dark it would be easier to slip by unnoticed with tired guards and the darkness to hide the inconsistencies of your disguise. When Laswell had said they were set up on every road from here to the border last night it had been a no-brainer to stop in the one place the team was guaranteed safety at least for now. Especially when not even her and her team with their unlimited resources could find a way through the maze that had erected around you.

The real question being asked now though was whether John was ready to risk the rest of the team’s lives in addition to Watcher’s. The rest of you could have stayed holed up in this little, run down building for at least another week if you had needed to. There were enough rations to last you in here along with running water. But the kid was in a bad way, for him it was no longer an option. Either you all left now or he died before he ever really had a fighting chance to stay alive. A losing situation either way for John if things went south.

It was now the difference between a known fatality and a risk for more. An easy decision this would never be, but you already knew what you would do in this situation back when you still ran your own team. You also knew how the rest of the men you led would react in the face of this risk. To save one of the men who’d put their life in your hands you’d have moved heaven and earth to ensure you did everything you could to not let them go home to their families in a box. And there would have been no man on those teams who would have done any differently. That mentality was nurtured and honed from the minute you had signed up for the military and it still had yet to die.

Whether you were invested or distant, callous or passionate, these men quickly became the one thing in life you could rely on. They were your family. They were your friends. They were your brothers in everything but blood. John’s face filled your thoughts in that moment as another lingering thought whispered in your mind, they became your lovers.

Oh the things you knew you would have done for that damn Brit at this point. Moving heaven and earth couldn’t compare in the slightest to what you’d do for that man. He was a reason for dying. No Speck let’s be honest with yourself, he was so much more to you now. John was a reason for living. You were in far too deep for barely even knowing the man, but you didn’t need to know him to know how you felt about him. Fuck it, when did you ever take the safest option on the table? You were a SEAL for fucks sake. John had caught you like a fish; hook, line, and sinker.

Finally that guttural voice grabbed your attention again, snatching you back from the depths of your thoughts and throwing you into the present, “Get him ready to move, Soap. And go ahead and get a line ready, I’ll give you a bag just in case he needs it.” Soap didn’t say anything but you nearly immediately heard boots hitting the floor in the next couple of moments. You slipped back around the corner, pressing your back to the wall with Cerberus standing idly at your side. The young man turned out of the door and down the hall back to the main room and towards his patient, and you observed quietly as he went. Not once did the Scotsman’s focus waver from the objective he had been given. And you had no reason to distract him by making it obvious you’d heard nearly every word.

Neither man probably would have ever known you’d been there if John hadn’t stopped at the threshold to watch Soap heading back. Staying silent you listened as he took in a deep breath, there was worry etched in the way he stood, the way his head hung just a bit and you knew he was questioning himself. Not even John Price could be a Captain all the time. You slid around the corner silently just before his head slowly turned and he locked eyes with you. His brunette brows raised in question though not surprise, never surprise. Then you spoke softly, “I’d do the same.” Not much comfort coming from someone like you but it seemed that it was enough for him.

John’s dark brows lowered then and he gave a short nod before he stepped towards you. It was an instinct, a reaction you couldn’t help as the taller man pressed his body into yours and your arms locked around him. You almost didn’t know what to do, you certainly had no clue what to say. Just stay quiet, no need to ruin this with your inability to conjure the right, soothing words. His forehead laid against your shoulder as his arms squeezed your midsection. He pulled you impossibly closer as he took whatever comfort from you that he could, and both of you knew this would be the last physical intimacy you would be getting from one another for the foreseeable future. A last dose to tide you over until you got your next fix of one another.

Then just as suddenly as it had happened he was pulling himself away from you once more, his fingers dragging over your sides as the both of you regretted the loss of one another. Without a word he turned on his heel to head after Soap and vanished through the door at the end of the hall. It would seem the team needed to get ready to move, sooner rather than later. Time to get yours and Cerberus’ shit together and finish this thing strong. You couldn’t be a burden now, the team was already dragging around a helpless Watcher and that deadbeat Amaan, whatever you felt and however much guilt you were carrying was irrelevant now. Focus up and get it done.

---------------------

The van jostled the lot of you around in the back as y’all rode in a tense, unbroken silence. John was next to you stock still, it was like he’d forgotten he was alive instead of a marble statue. More than a few times you’d found yourself stealing a quick glance his way just to make sure he was still breathing as worry bubbled up inside of you. Meanwhile Ghost and Konig were across the narrow aisle, the latter leaning forward over Watcher’s resting body just as motionless as the man beside you was.

Despite the hood across his face you could see the worry that had taken up residence in his expressive green eyes. His whole body seemed like you could have cut a single cord and he would have fallen to the ground in a heap of body parts. Konig’s gaze was focused solely on the young man who had been going in and out of consciousness for the past hour, showing more concern for him than you’d ever seen out of anyone before, of that you were almost certain.

Gaz was stuck in the driver’s seat up front, disconnected from the rest of the group as he tried to get everyone home in one piece. Meanwhile the only other Scotsman on board was sitting between Ghost’s spread legs, all of you having to make the most of the space allotted to you which wasn’t much in this little closet-like cubby that had been carved out. Soap had taken the worst seat as he needed to be as close to Watcher as he could be, however you doubted proximity would have mattered much at this point. Not after you’d overheard Soap and John before you left the safehouse.

Darkness engulfed the road outside as the other Sergeant drove the lot of you back to base. So far you’d been lucky to avoid any of the roadblocks while Laswell, and whoever worked directly under her, secured the team a plane home once you got back. Another pothole shook the whole van and Watcher groaned out in pain at the sudden movement. Skinny, blood soaked fingers tried desperately to clutch at his wounds just before Soap guided them elsewhere, as much of a distraction as he could be.

Konig slid to the edge of his seat, his body going rigid as he watched the young man helplessly. There was nothing he could do, at least not right now. Y’all were in the middle of a warzone, it was a miracle he was still breathing, it was almost asking too much for him to make it through this if you were being honest. The tip of Konig’s boot slammed into yours, a slight shock of pain rattling up through your ankle and dissipating as it reached your knee. It wasn’t like you could move any further away though, not with Amaan snoozing and under sedation beneath yours and John’s feet. Konig physically couldn’t get closer no matter how much he wished to in that moment.

As Watcher’s face evened out and he settled down once more you all seemed to take a breath in unison that no one had even realized they were holding. Oh thank fuck he hadn’t erupted into some fit of searing pain, the bullet had to be agony inducing still stuck inside there. You could only imagine the pain if you were being honest.

Slowly your gaze slid around and back to the small space between the front seats, watching Gaz’s lone form as best you could through the small slot. There was no telling how far you still had to drive at this point, it could have been hours or minutes and you would have been none the wiser. You still had no idea where the base was even located, though you could wager an educated guess. God how long had you spent out here? Too long you knew, but the days always seemed to mold together, turning into an immeasurable block of time that one day you were almost sure you would end up forgetting. That was if you made it that long anyway.

A heavy thwack against your leg broke you from where your gaze was stuck on the young man up front. Your eyes dropped to find the excitable dog as he inched closer to Watcher, as careful as any human would have been; it was like he knew how close the young man was getting to meeting his maker. Cerberus laid down with the gentleness of a much more intelligent creature, curling next to Watcher’s slender body as his nose gave a few cautious sniffs and he went still.

Pale, bloody fingers slid away from where the blood was still leaking out from the bandage wrapped around them before they nearly disappeared in the thick fur and held tight onto the dog who was currently the only relief the poor young man could find. At least the Dutchie was a patient dog in the face of just about anything, and he was more than content to become Watcher’s caretaker at least for now. After all, anyone would be exhausted after this long with no down time and even Cerberus was no exception.

---------------

The border was inching ever closer now and the tension that had dissipated not so long ago was suddenly mounting once more, growing thicker with every second. There had been too much downtime now, too many hours spent stuck together in the heat of the van with the smell of iron so close that all of you could taste it. Y’all needed to do something and yet there was nothing that you could do.

Watcher was beginning to shift again and as all eyes shot to him you realized just how the rest of the team saw him. Not as a young man but instead they saw him as more of a child in need of protection than an actual operator, and the attention they paid him would end up getting them all killed one day if they weren’t careful. It was getting harder and harder to believe that they respected him seeing how protective they were in that moment, and you probably wouldn’t believe it if you hadn’t been there when they had actually treated him like an adult. It was a weird combination of emotions everyone felt for him, however you’d seen it before, even in your own teams back in the day. Everyone protected the new guy as best they could even while they hazed the hell outta him and gave him hell any other time of the day

“Oh fuck,” the voice from the front seat almost startled you just as it did everyone else, their attention turning simultaneously from Watcher and instead towards the front of the van in search of the culprit. John, who had been sleeping lightly next to you, immediately stood up and stepped over Amaan’s body to lean towards the front of the van so that he could peek through the small opening between the seats. Your view was blocked but you could see him glance out the windshield before the man in the driver’s seat muttered, “Slight problem up here Cap. There’s a roadblock,” you leaned up in your own seat then to glance out the front window as well as you looked around John’s broad form as best you could, investigating the sight of flashing lights.

A line of cars had been stopped on the road and you had about four car lengths to figure out how to not get caught running an op on foreign soil- you could only assume without permission- with a man near death and another sedated into oblivion. You could hear Gaz tapping his finger nervously against the steering wheel and glancing back at you and John as subtly as he could. With Gaz at the wheel you all knew full well there was no way of making it through this damn roadblock unscathed. It had nothing to do with his skill; he simply didn’t speak the local dialects…You did.

The man who had been on idle next to you for the last few hours was spouting orders in a heartbeat, directing the flow of traffic like a pro. “Trade places with Speck. Now, Gaz, move it.” There was an urgency in his voice that you hadn’t heard since the mission the day before. Your head whipped around nearly immediately as the other man in the front waited till none of the guards were watching and then threw the van in park. He tumbled through the small slot in the van and into the little cubby you had been afforded as he slid onto the bench next to Ghost and then suddenly all eyes were on you.

It was dark outside now so at least most of your movements were covered by the shadows of the night. With darkness hiding the chaos currently unfolding in this already too small space. John was tearing into one of the bags thrown in the corner just as quickly as he’d started shouting orders, pulling out clothes that you quickly recognized as Watcher’s. Well fuck. He tossed you the taqiyah and thobe the ginger usually kept for when y'all were driving, especially over the borders. Your eyes shot between the clothes now in your hand and the brunette who’d given them to you. It was no secret you were a great deal bigger than the young man, hell Soap had a better chance at fitting in them than you did. The unwavering gaze that stared back at you apparently meant that he didn’t give two shits though. This was the expectation and lord you were gonna have to deal with the lot you’d been given.

A quiet curse escaped your lips before you started pulling the long thobe over your head, maneuvering your shoulders carefully inside the suffocating fabric before you reached up to affix the taqiyah as well. You could barely lift your arm, feeling the fabric tighten dangerously around the muscle of your shoulder, and damn how skinny was this kid? It felt like you were holding in your gut for dear life, had you really put on that much weight recently?

The thobe was much too short and clung to your chest and shoulders like a straight jacket, feeling more like a corset that was trying to reshape the proportions of your body than the loose fitting piece of modest clothes it was supposed to be. Good lord how were you gonna pass this shit off to a bunch of a men who knew what it was actually supposed to look like. Role or not this was gonna be a difficult one to pass off, and you weren’t entirely sure you were going to be able to do it. The whole thing was too rushed, there was too much riding on your shoulders and it’d been too long since someone had relied on you like this. Fuck it though, it was time to play the ill dressed cargo van driver who had no business being out in the middle of the night trying to cross borders. Lovely.

Glancing down at Cerberus you gave a quiet command of, “Bleib,” afterall the last thing you needed was him trying to follow you into the front and causing a scene. Unclipping the lead from your belt you handed it off to John quickly, undoubtedly running out of time now. Peeking between the seats into the front you took a quick glance at the men, making sure they weren’t paying attention before you hopped through and into the driver’s seat, throwing the van back into gear as you rolled forward in the queue.

You could feel the eyes on the back of your neck as you forced your gaze to remain dutifully on the road, suppressing the nervous glances you wanted to throw behind you. Complete silence had fallen over the men in the back, even Watcher’s groans had hushed completely now as the severity of the situation seemed to bleed into every aspect of this oncoming confrontation. The only sound that you could hear was John as he mumbled something about the false wall behind you. Then there was the sound of something opening before it clicked securely back into place again. What in the hell were they doing back there? The question itched at the back of your mind as you struggled to keep yourself from looking behind, human curiosity in a situation like this could absolutely get you all killed.

Everything went silent again for a few more moments before the separator between the front and the back closed and you were completely alone. The hot, suffocating cubby completely cut off from you now, and yet the air out here was choking you more than the close quarters behind you had. It was as if you were back to that one man show you’d been so used to lately, and not a single part of you wanted to be there anymore.

Lifting your foot off the brake slowly, you listened as they squealed with protest at the movement, trying to refuse your request to roll forward. Too bad though, there was shit to do. Besides, it wasn't like you actually had a choice as the van continued to roll forward in the queue. Uniformed guards loitered around the roadblock seemingly devoid of sound as their attention shifted completely to the van. Your mind ran through the infinite list of dialects the man was about to throw at you, it of course had to be one you knew. They weren’t about to sit someone at the border without having someone they knew could communicate with everyone who came through here…Right?

One of the men, with his rifle on his shoulder and a frown set firmly on his mouth, made his way over to you. He lifted his hand and signaled to the window which you were quick to comply with as you rolled the window down and sent a prayer up to the God your mother had always told you was real. You’d do anything to just let this go smoothly, anything at all. Please God just don’t let us get thrown in some jail or get shot up in the back of this van. Just go smoothly.

The man was eyeing you carefully as he approached, words rolling off his tongue that you didn’t quite understand. There was a semblance to the languages you knew but it just didn’t make sense so you shook your head and his cautious gaze started to turn to suspicion as he asked in Farsi, “You can understand now?” You nodded in answer before he continued his line of questioning, “Where are you headed?” And so the game began, and you felt yourself beginning to relax into this. Enjoying it even.

Where the hell were you? On the road from Zabol to somewhere south of that. Just say a city, any city south of Zabol, Speck. Easy, “Zahedan,” you answered him and in turn earned the attention of another narrow eyed guard as the men inched closer. The car in front of you rolled off past the rest of the guards as they moved on from the checkpoint and drove off into the night. It was just you now, truly alone and with all the attention focused on what you were determined to make a masterful performance.

You could feel eyes as they traveled down your neck, fixing to the sight of the tight thobe around your shoulders and chest as he inspected you or at least he tried to, part of the darkness was still hiding the bits of you that didn’t quite make sense. His hand moved down to his hip and for a moment your hand tightened on the wheel, a flash of fear that he was about to pull a pistol on you despite the rifle still resting against his shoulder. And before you could even truly react a beam of light leveled at your face and blinded you for a moment.

The guard flicked the beam towards the rear end of the van before giving you an order that left no room for interpretation, “Unlock the back. We need to inspect what you’re transporting.” Immediately your hand moved to the button and the locks clicked, ‘Please have y’alls shit together, John. Please, please, please, please, please,’ a muffled noise came from just around your shoulder and you resisted the urge to look back. You wouldn’t be able to see anything anyway and it would only make you look even more suspicious than you already did.

“What is your business in Zahedan, Mr…?” He left the end of the question open as he continued to fix that narrow eyed gaze upon you. The beam of light blinding you as he kept it leveled at your eyes. Jesus man, you’d think he could at least let you see.

However you gave him as pleasant a smile as you could manage even though it was still tinged with a bit of annoyance, afterall who wouldn’t be, and answered as quickly as you could, “I’m just transporting some goods for the market there, sir. My boss needs it there by morning, it was a late order by one of the stall owners,” you glanced in the side mirror towards the back watching one guard disappear around the open doors.

A couple heavy bodies hopped inside, shaking the van as they moved objects around in the back. Their muffled voices came through the thin walls of the van as they inspected the pointless boxes in the back. Nothing they did though could compare to the way the van rocked violently and something shattered as you heard the contents of a stack of crates dump out and across the floor of the van.

The reaction you had was almost as genuine as it appeared. Your brows began to furrow and you gave the man at the window a look of indignance as you began to shift in your seat, even going so far as to curl your lip up. There were only a couple more seconds that you could take of the crates crashing down behind you and the goods spilling out. The threshold had been met and you scoffed and turned in the seat, your voice raising in what could have only been worry and stress, “Come on really? You cannot just break everything back there because you want to, I have a job to do and a boss to report to, same as you man.”

Dark eyes shot back to your face and you immediately flitted your own gaze away feigning submission to what was, in reality, one of the highest authorities you would have known. Sure you could be exasperated and frustrated with the way they searched the van but the last thing you needed was to bring about your own personal demise because you wanted to get all high and mighty now. Another crash and the muscles of your back tightened, your shoulder blades coming together as you bit the inside of your cheeks and remained as still as possible, still avoiding the eyes of the men currently standing outside your window.

Just keep acting normal Speck, as long as everything stayed quiet back there and they didn’t find the little latch you had nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. You’d sail right on through this roadblock and be home in time for supper...Or really you'd be in time to save the young Scotsman currently fighting for every second of his slowly pumping heartbeats just behind you. After all, wasn't that all that really mattered right now?

The eyes of the man continued to bore into what felt like your very soul, and all you could do was refuse to stare back. You had to keep your head down and remain unremarkable for the sake of all of your lives. Being memorable, a “hero” was how people died and you were all too aware of that fact. Staying out of the way was your specialty, and you’d been doing it as long as you could remember. Much longer than you were willing to admit to anyone.

So keep it together, shoulder the burden for the good of the many. It was the only way you knew really. A hollow knock sounded behind you. Echoing through the cab of the van and amplifying, loud enough for even the man standing outside your window to hear. Out of the corner of your eye you saw his head tilt in…Confusion? Curiosity? Suspicion? Your hands tightened on the wheel as you fought to keep the moment of pure panic out of your facial expressions. Even a bit of fear slithering its way into this instinct driven part of your mind, ‘Do not turn around, turn around and they’ll know something is wrong. Eyes ahead and act normal. Do not turn around, Speck.’

The man at the window pursed his lips, still eyeing you carefully as he took another step closer and insisted, “I need a name.” A name? The fuck was a name? Your name? No, your name would get you killed. Fucking hell, why was it always something. Just gotta be on some other shit today, huh? Always gotta be something in this damn job, always fuckin somethin.

He wanted a name? Couldn’t live without one? Fine. Fuck it. “Kareem Abdul-Jabbar,” your eyes lifted to find a face absent of anything. Even the man behind him was quiet as they both stared at you with slowly narrowing eyes. Were you fucking stupid Speck? Jesus christ. That’s what you decided to go with? Anxiety prickled over your skin, raising goosebumps across the back of your neck and along your forearms. The already too tight thobe suddenly felt that much more tight, a vice around your body like a corset as it tried to cut off your dwindling supply of oxygen.

The commander, or the man who you assumed to be the commander, gestured with a flick of his chin to the man standing behind him. The pen in his hand scribbled quickly, and you followed the movements silently wishing you could read the movements of the pen and nervous that you would stick too readily in their minds. That they would remember this and you, that if anything went wrong you would be the first person they would point to. Then again did it really even matter? You should be long gone from this hellscape by the time they even turn that damn ledger in.

The van shook, rocked back and forth on its worn out shocks once and then twice. Muffled voices spoke what seemed so far away and yet like they were right over your shoulder. Discussing what though? What could they possibly have been saying? Was it about you? Had they found the latch and the rest of the team? What could you do even if they had? Question after question after question rattled around in your mind without a single answer even daring to try and enter. And then as quickly as they had begun they were cut off with the slamming of one door and then the next. Only a single thought remained, ‘Holy shit we actually did it.’

The commander glanced at the guard behind him who nodded and then looked to the men at the rear of the van. Again the voices reached your ears though they were devoid of meaning. Either a language you didn’t know or too quiet for you to truly make out. Slowly you turned your eyes from the road and the steering wheel in front of you to find the face of the Commander. In one quick movement the man turned back to you and nodded, “You’re free to go.” The tension in your back released immediately as you reached for the gear shift.

Throwing the van into gear you tossed the commander a quick nod, not bothering with a smile, hell the man had basically allowed the entirety of the back to be destroyed. He turned to look at the men blocking the road in front of you, illuminated by the headlights, and waved his hand yelling an order at them in another language you didn’t know. They were quick to lift the gate, following their orders, as you rolled forward slowly through the now opened blockade. The sounds of the tires over the asphalt crackling in your ears in a satisfying sound before you rolled the window back up.

Continuing on down the road you finally glanced in the mirror, watching the lights of the blockade disappearing behind the hills as you went. “Well that was fuckin close,” you muttered mostly to yourself, almost forgetting that there were a group of men separated by less than an inch of metal right behind your shoulder. The panel opened the moment you spoke and you glanced back to find an ocean blue gaze staring back at you, darkness surrounding him like a shroud. You were lost in those features for a moment, unable to pull away as your world whittled away to brunette locks and a full beard perfectly kept and straight out of the 70s.

At least until a huge gasp of air came from behind him and the both of you seemed to be shocked from your reverie. His dark brows knitted together and yours quickly followed suit in worried confusion. “What happened, what’s wrong?” Your question broke the assumed silence of voices, though as much as you needed to look behind you, you forced your eyes back to the road ahead. After all if you drove the van off into the ditch what would be the point of getting through that check point back there.

The Captain slid back into his seat before he glanced across the small space to the men on the other side. Muffled noises echoed around behind you, bouncing off the walls before they made their way to your ears. Someone was struggling. It wasn’t until John finally turned to find your gaze again that he shook his head as if to say absolutely nothing was wrong, it took only a second longer of your hardened gaze in the rearview mirror before he finally gave you a real answer, “The sedative wore off. Ghost took care of it.” You gave a slow nod in response and pulled over onto the shoulder of the road slowly, checking the mirrors to make sure there were no headlights headed your way.

You threw the van into park before you turned in your seat to look into the back and finally satisfy your curiosity. Gaz sat on the edge of his seat ready to slip through and take the wheel back and so the two of you did, trading places in a less than graceful motion as Gaz got the lot of you back on the road. The taqiyah was off your head in a moment before you handed it off to John and were forced to catch yourself against his shoulder as the van lurched forward unsteadily. A warm hand wrapped around your wrist and another caught against your hip as he instinctively reached to steady you, blue eyes traveling up to your face with raised brown eyebrows resting just above them.

Warmth flooded into your face and you tensed at his touch even though you wished you could melt into him, thank him with a smile on your face. That wasn’t a possibility though, there were too many eyes on y’all right now. So instead you pulled away, untangling yourself from his grasp as you huffed out a quick, deflecting comment, “Good Lord this thobe is tight. Thought the seams were gonna pop before we got through that damn blockade. Hell felt like I couldn’t breathe in the damn thing.” You pulled at the hem feeling it catch under your arms as you tried to wriggle your way out of it. You couldn’t manage to get it off though as your elbows caught in the fabric and you froze, your shoulders moving painfully one way and then the other and yet still you remained frozen in this awkward shuffle of limbs.

Shit. Once again you made a subtle attempt to free yourself, shifting your shoulders and pinching at the fabric where you could just barely reach it before a defeated sigh left what had to be the very depths of your soul. You had to have looked like a big child standing there with your arms stuck above your head and fingers reaching desperately for an unattainable fabric, unable to even push it back down so you could just pretend like nothing happened. Another moment of dead silence passed and as your fingers began tingling ever so slightly you dropped them to the back of your head in defeat. Your elbows were still held aloft, pinched together painfully as you stared into the white fabric stuck around your head, arms, and chest like a binding. “Well…” You said aloud, following it quickly with a single declaration, “Shit.”

Soap’s laugh was nearly immediate, the escaping near giggles edging on becoming wheezes. You could imagine all the eyes that were probably staring at your hogtied form in the long, ankle-length thobe, and you could feel heat rising in your face and not the kind you had started to enjoy. Embarrassment welled up in your and you swore you even heard Konig let out a quiet murmur of amusement accompanied by the Lieutenant and Captain’s quiet snickering as they looked at your helpless visage in the near complete darkness of the little space. The only thing that made it all worth it was the small giggle of laughter you just barely caught from Watcher somewhere below you, hell you couldn’t see a damn thing around you but that little laugh just suddenly made the whole experience worth it.

A couple seconds of gawking at you and the quiet laughing before strong hands grabbed at your upper arms and you quickly lifted your hands back up in response. As your arms straightened the fabric drug across your skin, and as the collar stuck underneath your chin you shut your eyes and pulled free. It took a few blinks before your eyes readjusted to the dim light only to look back up at the smirking face of John Price who was already balling the fabric back up in order to shove it back into the bag he’d retrieved it from originally.

You couldn’t help but to follow his form for a few moments, eyes trailing over his features before you managed to tear your gaze away and find the others that were still left in the back. Ghost had Amaan shoved underneath his and Konig's legs underneath the makeshift wooden bench passed out once more, either from the big man choking him out or another sedative you weren’t completely sure though you doubted there was any sedative left. At least he seemed to be making a comfortable seat for Soap who was still sitting between Ghost’s knees so he had easy access to the young man who was taking shaky breath after shaky breath.

You situated yourself carefully back where you had been forced to vacate earlier as Gaz continued what now had to be a frantic drive back to base. "See,” you began as you leaned forward on one knee, “Yall are laughing now but I ain't heard not one of ya laughing when I was saving your asses five minutes ago from becoming POWs. Not a single peep," Soap had tears forming in his eyes as his quiet giggles turned slowly into silent wheezes. A quick glance around and you caught Gaz red handed with his phone resting on the steering wheel as it played the sight of you trying to get out of the thobe on repeat while somehow he was still managing to drive. What the hell had you gotten yourself into?

Ghost, the last man you would have imagined would throw even more wood on this fire, was the first one to come back with a quick remark, "What the fuck does 'ain't' mean?" He did his best impression of an American accent, failing rather miserably as he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his chin resting just above the short dark hair of his partner. Eyes were watching you with what you were almost positive was amusement though sadly it was covered up easily by the darkness that still enveloped the lot of you, not to mention the mask that still shrouded every feature but those striking eyes.

The question struck you like every mocking comment of your accent and where you were from had. Reaching up you pulled on your tac vest that John proffered you and began fumbling with the buckles, you shot him a quick glare and lifted your chin just before you did the same with your middle finger as you feigned anger, "Means fuck off skullface, how bout that?" He gave a light chuckle under his mask and you saw his head shake in the darkness as he leaned back once more, huge arms crossing over his chest. The big man wasn't the most talkative but at least he knew how to joke around, a worry you had been carrying up until this point.

Everything began to settle shortly after that, the giggles dying and the whispered comments quieting. Soap sobered back up as he went back to tending to Watcher the best he could, the latter grimacing as he searched for something to grab hold of with his free hand, the team’s medic packing his wounds with a fresh set of gauze and wrapping them up with bandages. The last bandages he was quick to inform the Captain about. Watcher’s lithe fingers tangled into Cerberus’ fur once again, and you watched as the dog seemed to settle in the attention while the corner of your mouth turned up in a small smile.

Gaz sat quietly in the front seat as he drove now, his phone long forgotten along with the video of your quiet struggling. In the meantime Konig had resumed his quiet vigil with his elbows resting on his thighs once more and the worry obvious in his taut frame and the way his leg bounced. As it always seemed to, your attention returned to the Brit who had found his place beside you once more.

You half-expected to see him watching Gaz in the front seat and helping to keep an eye on the road. Or at the very least watching the youngest Scot as he had the whole ride before now, as most of you had succumbed to doing since you’d loaded him into this van. Instead though he was sitting with his rifle laying across the top of his thighs, his hands holding it steady. That gaze though, those ocean hues were focused solely on you. The heat of it was pouring into you, raging like an inferno as it warmed your otherwise frozen limbs.

A quick dart of your gaze down to his lips and before you could return it to his eyes they had shifted just as he did next to you. His legs spread a bit wider and his knee knocked against yours, his gloved fingers sliding over the gun as he situated himself more comfortably on his seat. John’s warning was silent but clear and you were quick to acquiesce, turning your eyes away to find something else to distract your thoughts. The other men avoided looking at the both of you. Soap was much too busy, Konig much too worried, and Ghost just finding the idea of eye contact in such an enclosed space awkward at this point probably.

The rest of the drive seemed to inch along at a snail’s pace as the last of Soap’s blood bags began to run dry. No one else was able to give blood and so the countdown had begun on how long the boy truly had left. The smell of bloody bandages permeated the entirety of the enclosed space now and choked you in its distaste. It clogged your senses in the suffocating smell, churning your stomach with its odor. It was not quite metallic, not with this much coming from the cavity of his stomach. This smelt almost rotten in comparison. There was an itch to gag tickling at the back of your throat that you were fighting to suppress. It was taking every fiber of control not to let your nose wrinkle at the odor of all these men, and the blood, and the dog mingling together like the beginning of a terrible joke.

Overwhelmed. It was the only word that came to mind as to how you felt right now. You were losing yourself in the way it felt, the way the silence of the van’s small space dampened every sound as if Watcher were already dead. Even the smells seemed to think so. Your eyes slid down quickly to his hand still grasping desperately at Cerberus’ fur and the pain written on the young man’s face. Not dead. Not yet at least. He was certainly getting there though if Gaz didn’t hurry the hell up. You’d lost track of the time but you could see the first rays of light now coming through the front windshield.

Soon, you had to make it there soon. Right? Watcher had long since lost consciousness, his breaths coming shallow and shaky in slower and slower succession. You should have been there. He shouldn’t have breached that room at all, you had just taken too long with that woman and her child. It was always the children that gave you pause. Their wide eyed stares cut too deep and struck too hard. Watcher should be sitting where you were. Why was it always someone else paying for your incompetencies?

Brakes squealed and the van locked down, throwing the lot of you nearly off your seats. All except for Price who was on his feet before you knew what was happening while Ghost quickly followed suit. Your eyes darted back and forth between them as you stood hurriedly, searching their gazes for some kind of order. They all seemed to know what to do next without even speaking, meanwhile you were kept out of the loop. Completely disconnected from this hivemind they all seemed to have slipped into. A routine?

The back of the van opened sending a cascade of light into your eyes just as Laswell’s voice cut through the silence finally, “Let’s go boys, Feea already has everything ready to go. And Wade has the plane loaded, let’s be quick now.” Everything was already happening though, she had no need to ‘get them moving’. Quicker than you thought any of them could manage it, the men in front of you were tossing bags from one set of hands to the other. From John, to Gaz who was now at the tail end of the van, and up the ramp to the waiting blonde vampire you’d nearly killed however many days ago that was now.

Engines roared on the runway in front of you, ready to take off whether yall made it on or not from what you could see. What the fuck kind of operation was this? You’d heard stories of Price, you’d heard stories of the 1-4-1, but to have such ease in finding a plane home without all the paperwork? They just had planes and runways and whatever they needed at their disposal whenever and wherever they needed it to be. You wish you had that kind of pull, you wouldn’t have been in that market about to get yourself blown to high hell if you’d had that kind of pull.

John didn’t spare a glance over his shoulder as he headed out of the van, stepping down it looked like versus hopping out. Konig and Ghost had already knelt down to grab Watcher underneath his arms and knees as Soap shouted out something to Wade about supplies and such he needed for the boy. They had the young man out of the van before you even had a chance to react as Soap followed the both of them. Gaz hopped into the van then, reaching down to gather the Amaan’s limbs before he hauled him up as if he weighed nothing.

This was the end of it then. They were off to wherever the fuck, rest a recoup until their next orders were received and then they’d be off again. Of course this was the end of things, you’d gotten Amaan and that was the only reason John and his team were here to begin with. And now you would be back to living your life, whatever that meant anyway. You had no job, no orders, and no way to get back home. There was no life or money, but that was neither here nor there you’d figure it out eventually.

Cerberus was still laying down where he’d been as Watcher’s company. “Fuss,” you muttered and watched as the dog rose slowly, it was unlike him to be so…downtrodden? A bit of concern touched your thoughts until you realized just how long it’d been since he’d properly rested. Probably just tired, hell you were you suddenly realized as you stepped down out of the van with your gun still slung over your shoulder. You stretched out your abused body, weary from the traveling and the fighting. Your bones ached and seemed to creak with every movement, your muscles and joints screaming and pleading for mercy only to find none. Not even your mind would find a merciful quietness here.

John had forced himself into your life and wrecked you completely, body, mind, and soul. You hadn’t even been sure you had a soul until you’d met him. Now he was about to disappear from it again, just as quickly as he’d appeared in it. There and then gone at the drop of a hat to leave you wanting for more. Always wanting. Your eyes darted into the dark interior of the plane as you tilted backwards. Weariness had finally won over as your knees buckled against the bumper of the van and you took a heavy seat.

God you were tired. There was nothing left to give. The tank was empty as they say. Even Cerberus had spent every last bit of energy he had at this point. Non-stop working had that effect on everyone, dogs were no exception, not even him. Your fingers found themselves in the thick fur of his neck as he sat staring ahead just as you did, watching as Wade loaded the last of the team’s supplies onto the plane. The roar of its engines deafening as you witnessed the departure of yet another chapter of your life. Though you had to admit it was probably one of the happiest chapters, even if it was one of the shortest.

It was time to disappear back into the frays of society. Become the man who other people looked over with glazed eyes, as if you weren’t even really there. A shadow in their memories when someone tried to ask them what you looked like and the best answer they could give them was, ‘He was just a man.’ For a minute there you’d been memorable though, had a taste of what it was like to be seen by one of the…No not one of the, there was only one John Price. He and his team were gonna be hard to move on from, him most of all.

Your eyes slid down to the dog sitting beside your knee then, running the tips of your fingers over the top of his head to ground yourself before you stood. Casting a last long glance up at the plane you were done, ready to walk away. As ready as you’d ever be anyway. Prepared to free these men of the curse that hung around you like death’s shrouded veil, one that had already struck poor Watcher.

He saw you. Of course he did, he had since those nights in the bar. He saw everything, for Christ's sake it was his job. Blue eyes pierced you through the heart from the top of the plane’s ramp as the two of you remained completely still. For once you weren’t nestled into the background of a painting barely warranting a single stroke of the brush. To him you were the artist’s whole subject, the one thing they had set out to capture. The one thing John had set out to capture.

There was one thing that man didn’t need to do though, he’d had you from the first day you saw him and not even you had known it then. He was your everything and it didn’t matter about anything else in life because he was all you needed. Hell he was all that you wanted.

You watched as he jerked his chin, beckoning you silently with both his eyes and his actions. The man before you didn’t need words, it wasn’t like either of you were poets with them anyway. It was as if the exhaustion and weariness in your body dissipated the moment he was back in your line of sight.

Pushing yourself off the bumper of the van you started forward, watching the corner of his mouth turn up in the smallest of smirks. He turned back inside the plane as you started up the ramp. You crested the top of the ramp Cerberus at your side and the moment you did it began to close behind you, the sound harsh on your ears and even worse than the engines in your opinion.

He had been waiting for you. An unexpected yet welcome thought, John had wanted you to come just as much as you’d been begging to follow. You slid past Wade with a satisfied glint in your eyes, barely glancing at him for a moment as he secured everything under cargo nets. Crossing over the empty space of the plane you made your way towards the rest of the team, stopped only by someone clearing their throat beside you.

Your focus darted to the perpetrator and you took in the blonde woman staring back at you. Confident and above you, above everyone to be fair, it was safer for her that way and so much easier. That was something you could understand. “Ma’am?” Your drawl slipped into the word as you watched her, your brows drawing closer together in your confusion as to why she would want your attention.

Laswell’s face remained stubbornly neutral as she looked the two of you over, a man and his dog. As normal as it got, just about anywhere in the world you would find similar combinations. The most memorable thing about you was Cerberus but even he could blend in under the right circumstances. “I have an opportunity for you, Speck. If you’re interested anyway.” Slowly you gave a nod, hesitating only a moment before you remembered if it involved her that it probably would involve John as well. “Good, how would you like a job?”

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911coded · 6 months ago

Text

Chapter 6: Don’t Dream It’s Over

The silence stretched uncomfortably and Tommy couldn’t think with enough clarity to even know what to say, what to do. What was even happening here? He could feel himself spiraling into panic again as his eyes watered.

John crouched and leaned over, “Hey, Tommy?” he whispered.

Tommy blinked, sighed, and turned his head to look at John from where he was now fully extended in the recliner from hell, “Yeah, John?”

“We can fly spaceships. With our minds,” he whispered with an encouraging grin.

Wide-eyed, Tommy turned his head back to the rocky ceiling, blinked, and suddenly it’s as if his body and mind clicked back together. “Cool,” he breathed.

“Would you like to see the ships that you will be able to pilot, Thomas?” The voice was gentle, hesitant, and seemed to be coming from the chair but also through Tommy’s mind, the same voice that he had struggled to understand while flying earlier.

Tommy glanced at John out of the corner of his eye for directions, but he seemed to be just as flummoxed as Tommy was at the conversation, so he decided to play along again, “Um, sure?”

“Our sister ship, Atlantis, lost her fighters to the great war, but she has several small gateships that Primus Filius seems to enjoy.” An image of the base of a great steel city floating on an endless ocean was projected in the air above his reclined body and he and John watched as a tube shaped ship with wings darted into frame and seemed to skim along the water before rising to fly to the city glittering on the dark sea.

*******************

The check-in process was fairly painless with Lorne at his side, though the guards gave him quite the look when they asked if he had any weapons.

”Swords, Buck?” Lorne chuckled, “I feel like every time I see you, you have a new surprise for me.”

“Eh, I got the impression that I would have to come up with things to do in my down time and I’m hoping to find someone to practice with, it’s been a while,” Buck said with a shrug. *

Once they made it past the security checkpoint, they went through a massive blast door and entered the mountain proper. Around a corner and through one more blast door, they passed the last checkpoint at the elevators, then Buck and Lorne began their descent deep underground to one of the most secure places in the world.

“Did you know that this facility was built in 1967 in response to the Cold War, in order to have a secure place to track long range Soviet bombers? It was designed to withstand a 30-megaton nuclear blast from as close as 1.24 miles away. Those blast doors take 45 seconds to open or close and though they are tested every day, they have only really been closed once, on 9/11.”

“No, somehow, I missed that in the transfer onboarding information,” Lorne snorted.

“Mmhmm, and it originally housed the NORAD Combat Operations Center. When NORAD moved to Peterson Air Force Base in 2008, Cheyenne Mountain was considered to be on “warm standby” and is supposed to be manned by a skeleton crew of military scientists that study “deep space radar telemetry,” Buck continued.

“I think I can actually hear the finger quotes you are using there, Buck, what are you getting at?” Lorne asked.

Buck snuck a look at Lorne out of the corner of his eye, “Wikipedia says there is a broom closet labeled “Starportal Command” from the tv show “Wormhole X-Treme!”. I may have made a bet with my friend Karen when we were wine drunk that it was the only true part of the article. You gotta help me out, here, I need to be right, Lorne, she’s too smart, it’s impossible to argue effectively with that woman. Honestly!” Buck exclaimed.

Lorne stared at Buck blankly for a full ten seconds before he lost it, leaned a hand against the elevator wall and laughed until he cried.

The elevator doors open to a tall blond woman with a smile on her face. The smile turned to a frown as she caught sight of Lorne trying and failing to get himself back together. Buck flashed her an innocent smile and leaned out of the elevator car, holding the door open, his hand out for a handshake.

“Hey, I’m Evan Buckley, most people call me Buck,” Buck declared. The woman slowly reached out a hand, but paused while she stared at Lorne with her eyebrows practically in her hairline.

“Is he going to be ok?” she asked, starting to look concerned, “Lorne?”

Buck bobbed his head in a nod, “Oh, he’s fine, no idea what that’s about. Maybe he has a condition?”

Lorne manages to stand up long enough to punch Buck in the shoulder, “A condition?! You asshole! I’ve missed you, emails really aren’t enough to get the full effect.” Lorne groans, shoving him out of the elevator and directly into the intended handshake. “This is General Samantha Carter, head of Homeworld Security. She oversees this facility and our remote base from D.C., while making sure we continue to get the funds and people we need to run the program. She’s going to take you to sign the biggest NDA you will ever see, then to a conference room where you can meet everyone else.”

The General shook her head with a roll of her eyes like their nonsense was just the latest of her day. “Come with me, Buck, and we’ll get you sorted. You can call me Sam when I’m not giving you orders,” she said with a wink. Buck followed with a pout and Lorne stepped back into the elevator with Buck’s bags and a wave of his fingers.

Lorne wasn’t kidding about the NDA, Buck was rubbing his aching wrists as they traveled again lower and lower in the elevator. With a ding on sublevel 27, he followed Sam down a hallway that looked no different than the one several levels above them.

“How do you keep from getting lost in here? I feel like I’ve been down the same hallway three times now,” Buck questioned.

“You get used to it, but the first few weeks are definitely a struggle,” Sam replied. “Ah, here we are!” With a perfunctory knock, she opened the door to what looked like a conference room. He could see Dave and Lorne whispering, heads together on one side of the impressive table, but had to guess at who the other man across from them could be.

“Buck, you know Parrish and Lorne, of course, the other gentleman sitting there is General Cameron Mitchell,” Sam explains. “I don’t know where the others wandered off to, I guess I’ll do the explaining this time,” Sam gestured for Buck to take a seat and sat down at the head of the table. “The main reason you were asked to come here today is because of an incident during your time in Peru with Parrish and Lorne. Lorne was carrying a piece of technology that has a mental component and he believed that the technology was trying to make a connection to you. Lorne?” Sam gestured at Lorne. He stood up and reached into a pocket.

“Oh hey, that’s what it was! Is that one yours?” Buck interrupted with a giant grin, pointing to the LSD (Life Signs Detector) that Lorne had just removed from his pocket and made to hand to him.

“What?”

“What?!”

“The fuck?”

Buck startled and looked around the room, eyes wide, as multiple people shouted at once. He rolled his shoulders forward, ducked his head, and shrugged. “It sounds the same. Are there more?” Buck quickly forgot that he was uncomfortable and the questions continued almost faster than they could keep up, practically vibrating in his seat. “Do they all feel the same? What is it? Is it an alien intelligence of some kind? How can I hear it? How does it work? This been bugging me for like 10 years now,” Buck wheezed out the last of his oxygen and before he could take in another breath to ask another question, Sam interrupted.

“How did you recognise what Lorne was going to hand to you?”

Buck’s face blushed scarlet and he shifted about in his chair, “Uh, well, as you know, I met Dave and Lorne in Peru about ten years ago and every time Lorne got within three feet of me, I could sort of hear someone that wanted to be picked up, but there was nothing there. I didn’t want to look like a crazy person, so I tried to look around without making it obvious. Then I realized if I stayed in the same place, but Lorne moved, I stopped hearing it. Then, when I didn’t respond, it kept trying to give me instructions on pickpocketing. For all I knew, it was some weird rock you picked up on your trip or was some new technology that was heavily classified and I didn’t have any idea how to ‘talk’ back to it without doing it out loud, so I figured it would be one of those mysteries you never solve, the ones you ponder at 3AM when you can’t sleep, you know?”

“What do you mean by sounds the same?” she prodded, leaning forward across the table, the scientist in her now coming out to play. Buck leaned back in his chair and visually paused, trying to figure out how to answer.

“It has the same ‘voice’ for lack of a better word. Um, I, uh, don’t ‘hear’ it as words. More like…” he faltered a bit and Lorne cut in, “Emotions? Kind of projected at you?” Buck’s head tilted like a dog or bird mentally looking at something from another direction. He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. “Emotion is probably the closest way to describe it, but also pictures?”

“Wait. Wait, wait, it was sending you instructions visually on how to pickpocket?!” Carter exclaimed. “Neither you nor Sheppard ever mentioned visual feedback!” Carter accused, pointing at Lorne on the other side of the conference room. Lorne stood back up from leaning against the wall with his hands held up in surrender. “Other than the visuals on the screen, I never got anything from it other than a vague yes, no, excitement, or disappointment. Sheppard’s gene has always been stronger than mine but you know how cagy he gets when emotions come into play,” he said, with a smirk.

All eyes in the room are now on Buck and he struggled to explain the unexplainable. “You know when you are speaking to someone and you can hear what they are saying, but you are also picking up facial expressions, body language, and tone of voice to get the whole picture? Now imagine it is someone you know really well and you are talking to them on the phone. Even though you can’t see them with your eyes, your brain picks up what they would be doing anyway from the words and tone because your brain is filling in the gaps intuitively. That’s what I’m getting from the device. My brain is getting information that I can’t SEE, but is filling in the gaps so that I have the whole picture as if I were seeing it,” Buck said, looking around the room to see slack jaws and blank expressions.

Mitchell broke the silence. “Holy shit. Great job, kid, I almost understood that,” he said, chuckling quietly.

Sam looked like she was trying to stare a hole through Lorne’s head. He shrugged. “That’s more than I get. They respond to my thoughts, but I don’t get much feedback at all,” he explained.

******************************

Tommy took a deep calming breath, “You said your sister ship, are you sisters with Atlantis? And what does Primus Filius mean?” Tommy asked, prodding the genderless voice along.

“At one time, we were many sisters, but though I can no longer fly, Atlantis and I are the only city ships left. Though we may not be sisters the way the first ones and you humans consider sisters, we have always thought of ourselves as such. Primus Filius is from the first ones’ language, it means first son. He woke us up and gave us life again, such as it is.”

“Who did?”

“Why John, of course. John will not live for all time, unfortunately. And he does not enjoy talking to anyone who is not his Condictor(fixer). We need more sons and daughters, Thomas, but John has not given us any and your Stargate people are too secretive. They impede the process. I am afraid that we have been influenced by our hospites(guests). We grew impatient at the delay, and decided we would have to look for new sons and daughters ourselves.” There was an electronic humming sound before they continued to explain, “The endeavor has been difficult. Most that could hear us are too far away and those that are close often refuse to listen. Thank you for answering, Thomas. Will you and your amantis(lover) finally come home?”

An image of Evan as he remembers him, smiling brightly in delight hovered over Tommy’s head and he finally accepted that Evan may be right about the universe speaking. In that moment, staring at Evan’s beautiful face projected above him, he realized that he was done running. He sat up and mentally asked the chair to let go. He felt a caress of pride from the voice and shakily stood up, John’s hand coming to his elbow to steady him. With his eyes closed, he took a deep breath, and on a count of five, he opened his eyes and turned to John.

“Tell me everything.” **

************************

“So, what does it do when it’s not trying to arrange its own kidnapping?” Buck asked. Lorne strolled over and placed the device on the table in front of him. He looked it over. The screen was blank and it was about the size of the old school Game Boy color he had as a kid. As soon as he picked it up, though, the screen flashed madly and changed functions faster than he could blink. “Whoa! Hey, slow down!” Buck whisper-shouted at the little device. He was getting an impression of giddy, but the device did what he asked and then started to show him each screen and “explain” what it did. While he was absorbing information as fast as he could, the rest of the room was completely silent, and after a couple of minutes the feel of multiple eyes on him started to sneak through the hyperfocus. Buck blinked a couple of times and looked up while his little friend pouted but stopped sending a signal until he could concentrate again.

Parrish waved a bit in Buck’s direction, “You back with us?” he asked.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s very excited to see me again,” Buck replied sheepishly.

Buck took a long look around the conference table at each of the faces watching him, “So, ok. Hit me with it. It’s aliens, right? Makes more sense than sentient rocks, anyway.” Dave let out a snort of laughter and held a hand out to Cam, who rolled his eyes and passed over some cash.

“Carter?”

“Right! Yes, well, the little device you are holding, Buck, is a bit of what is essentially advanced, alien technology. What allows you to connect and “talk” with it, is a gene that was passed down through the generations by one of your ancestors. The aliens, that we used to refer to as ‘The Ancients’ and now know to be Alteran, left behind bits and bobs of their creations all over the galaxy. We believe they engineered the gene to put a sort of “lock” on their tech so it couldn’t be used against them. They added the gene lock into just about everything. Any personal or professional device, even their ships and cities were built around using the gene to interact with technology. There are only two ways to tell if a person has the genetic history to operate this technology. We can run a blood test, or we can…,” her voice trails off while gesturing at Buck.

“Hand some unsuspecting person a random piece of technology that wants to talk to them?” Buck asked.

“Yeah, basically. I’m afraid that’s what Jack did to your friend Tommy,” she replied, sheepishly.

Buck winced, “Ah, yeah. I’m sure that went over like a lead balloon.”

Sam cleared her throat, “Mr. Buckley, we brought you here today because we would like to tell you about the Stargate Program and convince you to join us.”

Notes:

*If my ex-boyfriend and I could find a Japanese trained kenjutsu master in St. Louis to learn from, so can Buck. This was more than 20 years ago, so I only remember enough to look up what I am picturing in my head. My participation wasn’t serious on my part, it was just for fun. The ex-boyfriend and his friends got good enough to compete after we broke up so my handful of lessons with a bokken is all I have to show for it. (Honestly, my favorite part was the flick to the side to shake off blood before sheathing your sword. Dramatic movie stuff, very fun!) The swords may come back in another chapter or may pop up in a one-shot, but the swords are NECESSARY.

**I used google translate and Latin to stand in for the names the outpost uses to refer to their chosen people. According to Stargate lore, latin, as we know it, comes from the Alteran language.

The gifs that I had in my brain that are projected in the air above Tommy:

Tags for those who asked: @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @anangrylittlehobbit @grimmsdead

#bucktommy goes to the pegasus galaxy fic #bucktommy #911 abc #tevan #tommy kinard #evan buckley #writing #bucktommy fic #911 fic #evan lorne #samantha carter #david parrish #john sheppard #stargate sg 1 #stargate atlantis #crossover fic

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