#but when they coming at you all at once i really be shooting flaming arrows and just using water stance | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sugarxlumps · 3 years ago

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Can't Help It

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Hey guys! Oml I promise, I'll do other characters after this :') I just couldn't help myself, Gojo Satoru has my heart

Note: Image is not mine, Gojo as a character also isn't my own :)

WARNINGS: degredation, choking, mating press, hot smut ;)

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He was too much; Gojo Satoru. He knew too much. Too much of how to get a rise out of you, leaving you flustered and stammering, and you knew this. The moment he got too close to getting you melt at his touch, his long teasing fingers brushing against your thigh, the way he slid his hand at the small of your back to make his way through, even when there was all the space in the world. As he moved past, you could barely make out that he said "Excuse me, miss", his warm breath hitting your ear as he grazed by you, causing you to shiver visibly and your breath hitch. Your head whipped around to follow his steps as he walked away from you. He used any excuse to lay his hands on you. Which is exactly why you avoided him like the plague.

Only when it was absolutely necessary did you ever interact with him, attempting to avoid his dangerously sweet touches that wreaked havoc on your body as it was. You could only imagine how euphoric his hands would feel on the rest of your body, especially to your neglected cunt that’s been craving attention… his attention specifically. You've tried to extinguish the fire in your body that craves his cock at night yourself, but it just isn't the same.

But of course Gojo knew this; making his way back home from missions and he hears you with your windows open. But your avoidance of him definitely doesn't go unnoticed either. You train 1:1 with Nanami twice a week; not being a direct student of his own, it's surprising he commits that much time to you along with the other things he's got going on. Training days are the days that Gojo grumbles about as he could think of a much better use of that time "Damn, I could be making her scream right now” He finds himself murmuring aloud. But with the strings he's pulled on Nanami, you won't be able to avoid him any longer and he'll have you all to himself.

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"What? That doesn't even make any sense, why would they do that?" You questioned Nanami in annoyance, clear to hear through the speaker of his phone.

"I'm the wrong person to be asking that, y/n. I'm in no mood to debate this. I won't be coming back until next week, so just take the week off." Nanami huffed, his tone almost apologetic; he knew how dedicated you were to training.

You sighed in annoyance. "No. You know I can't do that."

"Okay, then ask Gojo."

You froze, a silence coming over the line. "Y/n?"

"No. I can't do that either." You clenched you teeth. Damn, did you really have to? Of course, he just had to be the only teacher left.

"Then I don't know what to tell you, y/n. It's either him, or take the week off" And with that, Nanami fared you goodbye through the speaker and hung up.

Well damn, this is the true test of dedication huh? Well just no fun and games then you thought to yourself. You gotta get to work. You commit reluctantly, your body already tensing up.

After hesitating, I finally dial Gojo and a few rings go by until you hear his familiar voice.

"Hey there pretty. Now to what do I owe the pleasure?" Gojo teases. You gulp at the nickname, but roll your eyes as if to convince yourself.

"Look, just calling to see if you can train with me this week. Usual times I do with Nanami. Yes or no?" You ask plainly.

Gojo chuckles over the speaker, his husky voice sending shivers to your spine. "Jeez, so cut and dry huh? I might do with some manners, y/n" He remarks playfully, his plans already falling into place. He knows you'd try to be acting like the straightest arrow with him, but he knows just how to make you crumble.

You huff before speaking again. "Can you train with me this week… please" You ask hesitantly.

"There, see? Not too bad, right?" You can hear the smirk in his voice, imagining that damned wicked smirk of his that could make your breath hitch.

"8:30 tonight, my place"

"Y-you're place?" You stutter a bit, not expecting him to offer his place. "Why not the studio?"

"Don't worry, I've got one at my place. You forget who I am, doll." He purrs the nickname, making you part your mouth and a small flame ignite in your core. "I'm the greatest sorcerer after all; work hard play hard all from the comfort of my own home."

You think it over. I mean I guess it'd be closer to home than training on campus, a plus since training gets excruciating to walk home from.

"Okay, fine. I'll be there" You huff. You hang up and sigh once more. This should be interesting.

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You wince in pain, as your body thuds to the floor from where Gojo had knocked you back. You're quick to get up, holding the side of your waist.

"You've got quite the fire there, sweetness" He smirks, shifting his glasses down to wink at you. He's been shooting flirty remarks all through session, only 30 minutes having passed with you two sparring and it's getting you irritated. But only at the fact that he knows just what to say to get you all riled up with heat rising to your cheeks.

You lunge at him again, but he grabs your arm to pull your body in and spinning you around to face him. He's pinned one hand behind your back and holding your other by your wrist, pinning it to his chest. "You're getting ahead of yourself, y/n. You're becoming a little predictable. Loosen up a bit, hm sweetie?" He breathes on your lips, grazing too dangerously close to them as wetness begins to drip from your cunt.

You try to compose yourself, and annoyance overcomes you once again. You elbow him and swing at him again, this time imbuing cursed energy into your fist as it burns black, preparing for a black flash.

He swiftly catches your fist in his, the power of the contact between your swing and his hand causing the wall behind him to cave into a dent. He grips your wrists and turns your back to him as he pulls you up against his chest, your head hitting his shoulder.

You grunt in pain at the contact.

"Gotta admit that burned a little, princess" He growled into your ear, only sending more of your slick gushing to your pussy and threatening to leak through your panties and onto your thighs. "I might have to punish you for that one."

"Gojo, please." Your voice cracks. You weren't even sure of what you were pleading for; for him to continue? For him to stop? You couldn't help yourself any longer, and it was all lost upon you now as you could feel the hardness of his bulge through his pants grinding up against you.

"Please what y/n? Want me to stop? Or keep going? You're going to have to be specific with me darling" He suggests, his grip on your wrists tightening and grinding his hard-on harder against you, the contact almost lifting up your skirt itself. You groan unconsciously at the feeling of how big he was with his pants still constricting him, giving Gojo the answer he already knew, but he wanted it spilling from your lips specifically.

"P-please, don't stop" You gasp as he nips at your neck, sucking harshly only to lick at the tender spot as if to heal it. His hand releases your wrists to grope your breasts through your uniform, slowly unbuttoning the jacket and throwing it aside.

"That's what I like to hear" Gojo chuckles darkly in your ear, ripping the rest of the top of your uniform off, revealing your bra. He unhooks it swiftly, letting your tits drop bare in front of him as he gazes down at them.

"Shit, y/n" He breathes, quick to roll them between his fingers as he continues to trail kisses down your neck and licks stripes up to your ear, eliciting lewd moans from you. He dips his hand between your legs, running a finger along your clothed folds, feeling your slick instantly.

"Damn baby, all for me? Is this how wet you are when you're touching yourself at night moaning my name?" He seethes, his voice making you tremble and you cheeks flush pink at embarrassment that he could hear you all this time trying to relieve your thirst for him and his touch. You could do nothing but moan in admittance.

He chuckles at your response. He hooks his fingers around your skirt and the hem of your panties, sliding them both off in unison. He turns you around to face him, wanting to see the look on your face when he finally touches you in the spot you needed him most.

He doesn't wait to slide two of his fingers into you, your slick walls clenching desperately around his digits as you moan and gasp loudly at the unexpected stretch and sting from him entering you just with his fingers. You clutch onto his arm tightly, mentally cursing to yourself why you're the one completely naked while he's here still fully clothed.

"See baby? Look at you" Gojo groans into your ear at the tightness of your pussy clenching around his fingers, already anticipating how you'll feel wrapped around his cock that's straining painfully against his pants. "Making such a mess on my fingers, and I've barely done anything" He begins to pump his fingers, curling them to hit your sweet spot repeatedly with dangerous accuracy. You moan loudly at the sensation, heat continuing to build in your core and your body tingling.

"G-gojo" You pant breathlessly, clutching onto him for dear life as your legs give out, leaning on him for support, silently thanking him for being as strong as he is.

"Mmm" He groans at how sinful you moan his name. "Such a good girl for me"

Your pussy clenches tighter around his digits, pushing him to add a third as you yelp at the stinging stretch, now clawing at the back of his neck.

Gojo laughs sadistically, "So you want me to talk to you like that, huh?" He asks rhetorically, your body and moans already agreeing.

He continues the thrust his fingers into you, curling them against your walls to graze perfectly on your sweet spot, bringing you closer to the relief you've been craving since you laid eyes on him.

"G-gojo… I-I'm.. I'm gonna" You try to say, but the words fail to gather together in a coherent sentence.

"What's that y/n? What do you need?" He urges on, only thrusting his fingers faster into you to push you over the edge.

"Oh my god, Satoru! I-I'm cumming!" You moan, cutting you off as he presses his lips hungrily to yours to swallow your moans. You bite his lip, causing a moan to escape his own lips. He hungrily massages your breast as he continues to finger you to ride out your orgasm as you trembling in front of him at his touch. You were his.

He gives you a moment to recollect yourself and catch your breath, showering you with feather-light kisses down your collarbone.

"Please Satoru… I need you" You whisper, desire pooling in your eyes and dripping in your tone as you palm his hard-on through his pants that twitches under your touch.

"Since you asked so nicely…" He smirks, that damn smirk that makes your knees weak as he continues to hold you up. He clasps his hand together to warp you both, and within a blink of an eye your surroundings are no longer that of the studio, but of his room; dark with only the moonlight shining through big elegant windows.

"How can I deny such a request, when you're this hot and bothered?" He caresses your face, cupping it in his hand as he runs his thumb over the bottom of your lip. "Such a pretty slut for me" He growls lowly.

At that, your pussy clenches again, sending heat to your core and biting down on his thumb, earning a groan from him. He quickly puts a hand to your throat, squeezing the sides of it enough to have your head to nod back slightly and your eyes flutter behind your eyelids as you moan.

"Mm so you want it like that?" He laughs as he swiftly picks you up to set you down on the bed.

"You dirty little thing" He licks his lips at the sight of you finally splayed out on his bed for him as he unbuttons his uniform and unbuckling his pants, discarding them to the floor only to leave him clad in his briefs.

You drool at the sight of him, both your mouth and your pussy watering at the sight of him strip in front of you. The sight you've been waiting for, for what feels like ages now. Your eyes rake over his figure as you prop yourself on your elbows. Looking over how muscular and toned his muscles are with each movement he makes, how big the bulge in his briefs are, how massive his bare frame is to yours, and how celestial his eyes are as he devours your own figure with such dark lust and desire, making heat only ignite further within you.

He pushes his way through your thighs, settling himself between them as he kisses trails from your thighs to your navel, and reaching your breasts to suck on your nipple tenderly, kneading them between his teeth. You arch your back at the sensation, entangling your fingers in his silver hair as you gasp and your brows furrow. His hand massages your breast and travels down to cup your cunt, his fingers grazing the opening of your folds. He lowers his head down between your thighs, taking in the sight of your glistening pussy that he's gotten all to himself.

"F-fuck, Satoru, just -" You plead, but before you could finish he puts a hand to your throat harshly.

"Patience, princess" He seethes, giving kitten licks to the outer folds of your cunt just for a taste. "Now that I finally have you, I'm taking my time. Besides, isn't this what you wanted? For me to have my way with you?" He smirks as you glance down at him, regretting that you did. The devilish glint hazing over his eyes sending heat waves to your pussy. He finally delves his tongue through your folds without warning and settling to suck on your throbbing clit as he enters two fingers into you, pumping and curling them.

You thrash your head back, clawing at his forearms and shoulders as he pries your thighs a part with his hands. You feel the familiar wave of an orgasm beginning to wash over you again as he continues to curl his fingers into your g-spot and circle his slick tongue around your clit, quenching his thirst with the juices of your cunt as he laps up every last drop.

"Mmm… Satoru, I-I'm close" You warn him, your body becoming a feverish mess as you claw at him desperately, as Gojo smirks at the thought of having such marks in the morning as a reminder of tonight.

"Are you now?" He immediately pulls away, leaving you to throw your head back and groan in frustration, taking your eyes off him for a brief moment enough for him to remove his briefs. The next time you look back at him, your eyes widen hungrily at his cock, adoring how perfect it looks, yet wondering if it'd even fit.

"Don't worry, baby. Daddy's gonna take very good care of you tonight" He purrs, sliding back between you , kissing and sucking the sweet spot of your neck.

"But you have to be the one to tell me exactly what you want" He adds with a chuckle, clearly amused at how you pout slightly, so desperate to have him inside you as you tug on his waist lightly in attempt to pull him closer to you.

He nudges the tip of his cock at your entrance as he lowers his head to graze his lips against yours. "C'mon y/n, you can do it. Tell me what you've been wanting this whole time, baby" He teases raspily, the same hunger in his voice also evident as he tries to hold himself back.

"Please fuck me Satoru" He whimper, surrendering completely as you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders.

With that, he delves his cock through your tight folds, gripping and clenching around every inch of him as he eventually bottoms out, causing you to moan in unison.

"Damn, your pussy's taking my cock so fucking well baby" He grunts as he continues to thrust into you at a powerful pace. "What a perfect slut you make" He smiles cockily, slamming roughly into you as moans continue to fall from your lips. "That's right princess, let the whole school know who fucks you this good" He urges

Your eyes roll behind your eyelids at the euphoric sensation of Gojo stretching you out, filling you up so well that you see a slight bulge in your stomach when he thrusts into you, hitting your cervix and your g-spot every time. The sounds of your hips crashing and the sounds your pussy makes as he thrusts into you mercilessly are too much, already feeling heat building up in your core once again.

"You've been so desperate for my cock, isn't that right princess? Look at you, screaming and begging for me to fuck you like a bitch in heat" He seethes, lowering himself to suck harshly on your nipple, causing you to arch your back as he looks back up at you "How does it feel now that you've got the real thing?" He asks, pushing further into your as your legs press against his shoulders, folding them more onto your chest as he continues to pump his cock into you, pressing into your cervix.

You moan loudly at how deep he hits you, his adjustment causing his cock to hit deeper on your g-spot, your orgasm approaching embarrassingly quick. You continue to moan thoughtlessly, your mind too hazy to begin formulating a response. He puts a hand to your throat and picks up his pace slightly, making you yelp and gasp.

"I demand an answer, pretty" He growls this time, his eyes hungry with desire to hear you fall apart for him.

"Y-yes Satoru! It feels so fucking good!" You cry out, tears now dripping across your cheeks. "Satoru, please." You whimper, "I-I'm gonna cum"

"Cum baby, give it to me" He groans, thrusting relentlessly a couple more times until you unravel before him, completely becoming undone as you claw at his back in desperation, only fueling him more to continue thrusting deep into you to ride out your second orgasm of the night. Once he feels you slightly relax under him, he folds you over more, completely this time. With knees pressed back into the mattress, giving him all and complete access to your pussy to pound it just how he likes, how he's always wanted to.

He groans to keep himself together, close from cumming at this sight alone at how beautiful you look beneath him. "Damn sweetness, you've got me riled up here." he pants, his eyes cast with lust and carnal desire as he looks at you. " Do you know how long I've been waiting to touch you like this? To fuck you like this?" He caresses your jaw, his fingers trailing down to your collarbone and down to your breast to roll your nipple in his fingers. He dips down to connect his lips greedily to yours, emotions spilling out into the kiss as your tongues swirl around each other, everything all at once making you dizzy as you moan sweetly into his mouth, tugging at his hair to elicit a moan to slip from his own as it vibrates against your lips. "To kiss you like that" He says huskily, desire overcoming him.

He pushes himself into you, your walls suffocating around his cock as he groans at the feeling of it. Your mouth parts in a silent scream, sure that you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow with how he’s stretching you out. He's thrusting even deeper into you now, with more raw, carnal desire than before if it were even possible. You mouth parts as you moan loudly without any regards as to who hears you. Your sopping pussy squelching as he slams his hips into yours, the sight of him fucking you into oblivion as his bright blue eyes devour yours, licking his lips ravenously.

"Satoru" You moan sinfully, so much so Gojo has to bite his lip to stop his own eyes from rolling to the back of his eyelids.

"G-gojo, it's t-too much" You moan, putting a hand lightly to his abdomen in a failed attempt to get him to slow down. You've cum so hard, you've never even brought yourself to cum this intensely, this many times consecutively.

"Too much, huh? Already fucked out on my cock, sweetness?" He chuckles, yet adoring the sight of you fucked out on his cock. All you could do was nod and whimper in response.

"Too bad, baby. You think I'm gonna stop here after I've heard you moaning my name so many times by yourself? Such a needy slut" He whispers salaciously into your ear, grunting occasionally with how rough he's pounding himself into you.

Your pussy clenches at his words, more tears streaming down your cheeks with nothing but moans of his name and curses from your lips calling out to him. He wipes them away gently, a harsh contrast to how hard he continues to slam his thick cock into you, a contrast to how his infinite blue eyes pierce into you.

"That's right, y/n." He smiles "You'll take it all like a good girl, right?" He licks a stripe up your nick to nibble on a sweet spot by your collarbone, causing you to only moan louder. "Let everyone know who's fucking cunt this is" He growls lowly. He slips two fingers into your open mouth, your tongue and mouth sucking on them instinctively. He groans at the sight of you like this, folded over sucking on his fingers as saliva trails down the side of your mouth, your eyes and body surrendering to him completely as he dedicates this moment to memory.

"You're mine, princess" He remarks possessively before removing his fingers from your mouth, a string of saliva still connecting from your lips to the tip of his digits. He brings them down to rub small circles on your throbbing neglected clit, causing you to scream in desperation and euphoria, your back arching to him slightly in the position you're in. You're pussy grips even tighter around his cock at his possessive words making you his. Another wave of pleasure begins washing over you, threatening to push you off a new edge as he drives you near the brink of being overstimulated.

"Fuck, good girl, just like that" He pants, as he continues thrust unforgivingly into you.

"Satoru, p-please!" You moan loudly, almost screaming desperately for him, only to for him to cut you off with a hand to your throat. "Say it, baby. Tell daddy what you need" He exhales, eyes engulfing yours completely.

"Please make me cum" You mewl, a couple of more tears streaming down your face as your body is on the brink of uncoiling the spring that he's wound up so tightly. He slamming himself into you in a slightly faster pace, his thrusts getting sloppier as you feel his cock twitch inside of you, indicating he was also close to his own climax.

"Fuck baby, cum for me" He demands, finally allowing your body to release the most intense waves of orgasm you've ever felt, your body on a new high as he continues to thrust into you, your climax fueling his own to follow after. He slows and stills into you, his cock still twitching as he coats the last of his cum along the walls of your cunt.

He removes himself slowly with a groan, laying beside you and quick to pull you to his chest.

"No more avoiding me, okay?" He exhales raspily, gently moving your hair down from your shoulders to place a kiss there.

"Okay" You hum happily as you nuzzle deeper into his chest, fatigue overcoming you as you both lay together.

#gojo smut #gojou smut #jjk smut #gojou x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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starlessea · 3 years ago

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𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙥 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙖𝙨 - Prologue 0. Closing Time

Series Masterlist: Step on the Gas

Summary: A dishonourable discharge from the military results in you being hauled off to live with your grandparents in the boonies, otherwise known as the middle of nowhere Georgia. After running over a nail on the road, and pushing your grandpa's vintage Camaro to the nearest auto-shop, you meet Daryl Dixon - the local mechanic. At some point, the world ends, but that stubborn man never gives you a chance to slow down. His smile gives you whiplash, but he still insists that you to step on the gas.

Words: 6286

Chapter Warnings: Language, Injury

The sky was empty — save for one bird.

Daryl watched it fly above him, so close to the ground that he could make out the beating of its wings and swore he saw individual feathers flutter in the breeze.

His fingers itched over his crossbow, as he contemplated shooting it down from the sky and plucking it clean. He'd have something to eat then, at least. Though, for some reason, Daryl Dixon couldn't bring himself to let loose his arrow, watching as the bird soared overhead — and disappeared beyond the trees.

The man sighed as he kicked up some loose stones with the toe of his boot. What a waste, he thought, before trudging through the field once again.

The sky remained cloudless for the rest of the day, existing as a pale, washed-out grey that made Daryl feel uncomfortable as he hunted. The game must have felt the same, since the deer he'd been tracking made itself scarce, and the string of squirrels hanging from his belt seemed no heavier than it had done when the sun rose that morning.

Still, he trekked onwards over the thick, winding grass and through damp forest overgrowth. He was nearly back at the quarry already, but he hardly had anything to show for it. A few measly rodents and a sprained ankle were barely worth his trip in the first place; they sure as hell wouldn't be enough for all of the mouths he now had to feed.

Daryl cursed at himself for hesitating to shoot that bird straight out of the sky, and clip its wings. It wasn't much, but maybe it would have lasted a day if he was lucky. Still, there was no use wondering now, since it had swooped so close to him that he almost felt the downward draft on his cheek — and then he let it fly away.

He thought that it had been a jaeger; it definitely looked like a seabird that had veered too far from the shore. It was a gull with a white breast and dark, blackish feathers — and a wingspan that made sure you couldn't miss it.

He remembered you pointing one out to him, at 3am, parked up on that deserted beach as the two of you stared out into the rocking ocean.

"Ya thinkin' 'bout 'er again, baby brother?"

Daryl could hear Merle's voice taunt, in the deepest, darkest corners of his thoughts.

"Tha' lil' birdie of yours?"

He quickly shook his head — even though it was the truth.

It had been Daryl's own mind that conjured up those words, after all. Merle wasn't actually here. He was probably back at the campsite, lazing about and leering after women far too good for a beaten-up redneck like him.

Though, funnily enough, Merle had said the exact same thing to Daryl when he noticed his gaze settling over the new bar server, who swiped away the froth spilling over from their draught beers. Merle had given him even more of an earful when he realised that his younger brother was waiting for her shift to end.

Daryl took a deep breath, before rolling his neck to try and relieve the tension that had built up there. Once his mind drifted into thoughts of you — even if only for a split second — it often sank to the point of no return.

You were all consuming; you had been from the first time he laid eyes on you in that old, country auto-repair shop.

He remembered the way your voice chirped like a bird's, despite the curses that often fell from your lips.

You even made those sound sweet.

And he could also recall the way you yelled over the rumble of his bike engine, and competed with the screeching that came from his tyres losing their grip on the worn-out tarmac.

You'd told him that it felt like you were flying — and that was probably the reason why Daryl Dixon couldn't shoot that jaeger.

Then, the man heard something louder than he had done since the world ended — and suddenly, the sky was no longer empty.

There was an explosion, and that dull greyness was set alight with brilliant hues of red and orange. It made fire start to rain down upon Daryl, who could only stand and watch below. Debris fell out of the sky like a meteor shower, landing beyond the trees in the distance — to a place that Daryl couldn't quite make out, no matter how much he squinted.

The air became full with the sounds of scraping metal and flickering flames that caught the leaves and made them burn up like the end of a cigarette. Daryl felt his heart race as the adrenaline pumped its way through his veins, and made him flinch each time something crashed heavily to the ground.

There was often a moment in a person's life where their brain got kick-started into gear — and they awoke from whatever auto-pilot they'd been functioning on until that point.

For most, it was probably a mundane milestone like marriage or parenthood.

For others, it might have been a life or death situation that made them re-evaluate their perspective.

For some, it had only happened when the world actually ended, and the apocalypse began.

And perhaps, if Daryl had been a smarter man, it would have been this instant — as he gazed up at the sky and watched it burn above him. Maybe this was his second life-changing realisation; maybe he was lucky enough to get two.

But, for Daryl, the first had just been a regular Tuesday.

The garage was sticky hot that day. It was the kind of heat that made you sweat no matter how many fans you had blowing — since Old man Dean was too cheap to install air conditioning. His boss was a bit of a stickler for paying his bills, and nit picky with his nickles, but he'd always been kind to Daryl.

That being said, working as a mechanic wasn't exactly where Daryl had pictured himself at his age; but then again, he couldn't really picture himself anywhere at all. He felt like that last piece of the jigsaw puzzle, which didn't quite fit in with the others — the one that you had to bend into shape just to make it work.

Sure, he enjoyed seeing the different bikes roll in and out of the shop — those models he would never be able to afford — and Daryl appreciated having a few extra dollars in his pocket for when Merle raided his savings to score some pot.

Besides, there wasn't much else to do in the boonies. Daryl's old man once told him that the only interesting thing to rear its ugly head out of Georgia's backyard in the last fifty years was Dean's Auto Shop. That's probably why Daryl started working there in the first place, as a summer job when he was teenager — and had never really left since.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, his old man had been right about one thing — despite the bastard never catching on to the role of father. He'd been right about the shop being the only interesting thing around.

Because it was the place where he met her.

And then she became the only thing in that small town even worth being interested in.

Daryl didn't hear a car pull up into the shop, but he heard the mumbling outside from where he sat in the breakroom — chewing on some of Dean's leftover pizza that was bordering on stale.

"Dixon, get your ass out here for a second, would you?" the old man yelled, banging on the thin wall that separated them with his fist.

Daryl cursed below his breath, throwing the rest of his food into the trash and dusting off his hands over his jeans. He stepped out into the shop, and was met by an unfamiliar face — looking over at him curiously.

He suddenly felt unexplainably nervous, and dropped his head down to his feet as though it were a reflex he didn't know he had.

"This is your guy," he heard Dean say, before letting out one of his usual chesty coughs.

The man smoked a pack a day too much — and that was coming from Daryl.

"Owner of that bike you've been eyeing, too," he went on.

That caught Daryl's attention, and he instantly glanced up at the woman in question. She was breath-taking, but she also looked very much out of breath. She seemed as though she had run here, despite the Georgia heat.

"You ride?" he asked, but his gruff voice made it sound like more of a demand.

He grimaced at his own tone, but the woman didn't seem bothered by it in the slightest.

She laughed, and it sounded like nothing he'd ever heard before. "I wish," she said, running her palm along the polished metal and tracing her finger over that shiny logo.

Usually, Daryl would bark at anyone who touched his bike, and Dean seemed as though he expected him to do just that — from the way he raised an eyebrow at the daring woman, too oblivious for her own good.

Except, Daryl stayed quiet.

"Was never allowed within a mile radius of one," she went on, before turning back around to grin at Daryl like it was easy. "My folks were scared I'd take off into the sunset, never to be seen again."

He could relate to that. After all, it was exactly what he and Merle had done as soon as they'd gotten the chance.

"Mhm," he hummed back, before glancing over at the car parked in the middle of the shop. "She's pretty."

It was a steel blue colour — would definitely benefit from a lick of paint, but still pretty nonetheless. The tread looked good on the tyres, and Daryl couldn't see any signs of the rusting those models were prone to. Someone had taken good care of it.

"Excuse me?" the woman asked, and suddenly Daryl was reminded of just how bad he was with words.

He cleared his throat, and ran his hand over the hood.

"Yer car," he explained, "'69 Chevy Camaro?"

Daryl asked, but he already knew the answer.

"Oh yeah, that," she replied, sending him an apologetic look. "It's my grandpa's, so we're going to have to be real discreet about this situation over here."

Daryl raised an eyebrow as she beckoned him to the other side of the car, crouching down near the wheel arch.

"Some bastard left a nail in the road, and I ran straight through the thing like it was a stop sign," she grumbled, pointing out the puncture.

Daryl almost laughed at that — but he was still much too jaded from being caught in the middle of his break.

The woman stood back up and toed the deflated tyre with her boot, scowling at the sight of it.

"I know you're closing soon, but I had to push it half a mile just to get here," she said, and wiped her brow with the back of her hand.

Suddenly, her appearance made sense. Since he'd first laid eyes on her, all she'd done was tug at the collar of her vest, and try to stand in front of one of those poor excuses for a fan. But even then, Daryl couldn't quite believe her story.

"Ain't no way ya pushed that thing 'ere by yerself." The words left his mouth before he could consider them twice.

And the look she shot Daryl in return made him want to take them straight back.

But then, she smiled.

"I'm stronger than I look," she protested, leaning against the hot car. "You can ask the dozen assholes who catcalled me on the way but never offered their help."

This time, Daryl did let out a chuckle.

"Damn lucky y'ain't pass out," he quipped back, "heat's no joke."

She grinned again, and Daryl wondered whether she had an endless supply — or if she'd saved them just for him.

"Tell me about it," the woman teased. "Never liked visiting Georgia because of it."

Then, it all made sense to Daryl — the reason why she intrigued him so much.

"Y'ain't from 'round here, are ya?" he asked, surprising himself.

Usually, he couldn't give a 'rat's ass', as Dean called it, about anyone who stumbled into their shop. Never did they get more than a half-hearted greeting from Daryl, or a grunt as he told them to mind their head on that low door frame (she didn't have that problem). Though today, he seemed oddly talkative.

"Haven't seen ya before," he added.

The woman folded her arms over her chest.

"Would you recognise me if you had?" she asked.

"E'erybody knows e'erybody in this place," he answered. "I'd remember if I saw ya cross the street."

It was partially the truth. Daryl knew most people — but he only bothered to remember a select few.

"Moved here last week," she caved, proving him right. "I'm keeping my grandparents company watching daytime cable and doing grocery runs."

Daryl smirked. "An' runnin' over nails with their car, apparently."

"That, too," she confessed.

It was silent for a few seconds, and Daryl realised that he should probably give her a quote for the job. Though, she interrupted him before he could.

"Listen, your new neighbour would be really grateful if you could cut her a break," she said, eyeing the Camaro like she was considering whether it was even worth the hassle. "The old man's going to kill me if I come home on foot tonight."

Daryl knew what she was asking. The notice in the shop window made it clear that they'd be closing in half an hour; Daryl had been all but ready to flip the sign himself. Before she'd arrived, he'd even dared to think that he could shut early — and possibly get to crack open a cold beer and enjoy the breeze of his porch.

He sighed.

"I'll see what I can do," Daryl mumbled, "but I ain't makin' no promises," he warned — as he caught the way her eyes lit up at his words.

But that was a lie. Daryl knew he wouldn't let himself go home until it was finished.

The woman was utterly gleeful. He watched her smile much too widely for her face, and for a moment Daryl thought that she might even jump at him. But she seemed to catch herself at the last second, and abruptly stopped.

She didn't falter long, though. "Thank you, thank you so much!" she said, excitedly, before pausing to tap at her jean pockets. "I don't have any cash on me for a deposit, but I'm heading to work now."

She looked sheepish as she explained herself.

"I'll come straight back and pay in full," she added, trying her best to convince him.

Daryl narrowed his eyes like he didn't quite understand. Then he did, and he laughed properly.

"Deposit?" he asked, shaking his head. "City girl, here we jus' keep yer vehicle if ya can't pay."

The woman's expression was priceless. She looked as though she couldn't figure out whether he was joking or not, and stared at Daryl with her mouth slightly agape as she debated which it was.

He couldn't watch any longer.

"Where ya workin'?" he asked.

Then, he cursed himself for doing so. Time was ticking on, and he already had to stay overtime because of his inability to say no. Well, usually he had no problem with the word; it just seemed like it was stuck in his throat today.

"Joe's bar," she replied. "It's a few blocks over and-"

"I know Joe's bar," Daryl interrupted.

Everybody knew Joe's. It was the only place around that sold a decent draught beer. He'd been going there since he was a teenager — younger than he should have been, but old enough to know better.

"Me an' my brother go there a lot, but I ain't seen you 'round."

She nodded.

"Only started a few days ago. Hopefully they don't fire me for being late."

Daryl glanced at the clock. It was approaching his closing time and her opening one.

"Ya better get runnin', Camaro," he noted, tapping at his watch that didn't even work. "Rush hour soon."

The woman narrowed her eyes at the nickname. Daryl didn't know her real one yet, and felt like it was too late to ask for it. He'd have to catch a glimpse of Dean's log book later to find out.

"Will do," she replied with a smile. "Thanks again, Dixon."

Though Daryl couldn't quite work out how she knew his name, either.

He watched her scurry about collecting her things, and walked her to the entrance. The sun was starting to set — leaving the sky a pinkish orange that only made him squint the more he looked at it. He held the door open for the woman, and heard Dean snort from the back of the shop. But the way she thanked him made it worth the teasing.

"Take care of that sixties Honda," she winked, "she's a real beauty."

Daryl was surprised that she knew the model of his bike, considering she'd never even ridden one.

"If only ya knew," he mumbled back as he saw her off. "Will take ya for a ride one time if yer willin'."

She stopped in place. Daryl didn't know why he said that. It had just slipped from his mouth like oil from a can.

The woman laughed and rolled her eyes like she didn't believe him.

"That's what they all say."

Then, she started to jog down the street — just like she said she would — and Daryl thought her crazy for even attempting it in this midsummer Georgia weather. That woman had entered the shop like a whirlwind, and when she left Daryl couldn't remember what he'd even been doing before.

Dean cleared his throat and threw a rag at him that he barely managed to catch.

"Keep it in your pants, boy."

Daryl scowled at the man; he knew him better than that. So, he didn't give him the satisfaction of a reply, and instead got started on setting the Camaro up on a jack.

"She's a beauty, I get it," Dean went on, despite his silence. "Her type don't belong in a place like this, that's for damn sure."

Daryl had to agree with him there. He'd gotten a glimpse of his reflection in the wing mirror of her car and grimaced. He had grease on his face, and part of him cursed Dean for not telling him before he'd left the breakroom.

"But you know Mike and Doreen?" the old man asked, and Daryl nodded. "That's their granddaughter."

Daryl furrowed his brow — not realising he'd done it until he caught himself in the glass once again. Mike was a hard man, the type to straighten out any kinks in a person with brute force and that baby boomer spite.

"She may be real pretty, kid, but that one's trouble," Dean noted, confirming his suspicions.

He ignored the way he called him 'kid'. The old man still hadn't grown out of the habit — despite Daryl being well beyond his teenage years now.

"Trouble?" he repeated, like he couldn't quite comprehend the word being associated with someone like that.

Dean chuckled — but it turned into one of those coughs that made Daryl wince.

"Maybe more so than you," he said. "Got kicked out of the military, I heard."

Daryl spat at the floor, and Dean laughed again. They both hated those military dogs who often paraded through their town, looking at them as though they were trash beneath their government-issued boots.

But, if she'd been kicked out then maybe they could find some common ground.

Old man Dean wagged his finger at him, recognising Daryl's no-good expression; he'd become familiar with it by now, from all the times he'd worn it throughout the years.

"So don't go losing your head over her, Dixon," he cautioned, pretending not to know how good Daryl was at throwing caution to the wind.

"And remember to close up before you leave."

But it was too late.

Daryl had already lost his head, and his heart — but he wouldn't know that the latter was missing for a very long time.

You ran the cloth along the oak bar surface, wiping away any sticky beer rings that had been left there.

This is why we have coasters, you sighed.

It had been a slow Tuesday night, but you'd somehow still been roped into working the close. You tried to tell your boss that you were having car troubles, and had plans to stop by the garage on your way home — but he seemed to prioritise his own date over yours.

Well, you wouldn't exactly call giving the local mechanic his cheque a date; usually, you didn't have to pay for those. But you couldn't deny how it had made you feel when he smiled that smile your way — so small that you'd almost missed it — before you took off running out the door.

It gave you whiplash.

Perhaps he was just being friendly. But, then again, he didn't seem like the naturally friendly type. You shook your head, throwing the beer-soaked rag into the sink. You didn't trust that man in the slightest.

That wasn't a new development, really; you didn't trust most men. And, you often found that the ones who made your heart race like that were the worst of them all. He was trouble, that one, and you'd had enough of that to last a lifetime.

You untied the double knot of your apron, and folded it up neatly. There were a few whiskey stains on it — you'd caught a whiff of that top-shelf scent a few times now — but you were already too late to even consider putting it in the wash. Instead, you left it at the end of the bar, and swapped it out for the ring of keys lying there.

It was closing time, and you prepared yourself to run three blocks in the dark. You stepped out into the night, feeling the cool breeze on your cheek as opposed to the midday heat that had been there when your shift started. You flipped the latch and turned the key in the lock until you heard it click.

Then, you held them between your knuckles so that the jagged edge poked out.

"Ya done for the night?" a voice came from the shadows, and your heart dropped.

That brief second lasted a lifetime as the blood rushed to your ears like a strong current through running water, and your grip tightened over those keys. But then, you noticed the reflection in the glass panels of the door — and relaxed.

"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me," you scolded the man, "thought you were a dejected patron tryna jump me or something."

Perhaps he was; you still didn't know any better.

Dixon was leaning against that dingy brick wall, opposite the back door of Joe's Bar. You didn't even know what that other building was — but some sketchy figures usually loomed about it, so you tried to stay clear.

Maybe he didn't get the memo, you thought.

"Tha' happen before?" the man asked back, casually.

Though, the dim street lights overhead illuminated his face, and you caught a glimpse of his serious expression before he let it drop. He held a lit cigarette between his fingers — almost smoked down to the butt already — and it made you wonder just how long he'd been waiting for you.

"Maybe once or twice," you laughed, but it didn't sound as natural as you had intended.

You noticed the man's eyes flicker down towards the keys held between your knuckles, and you quickly slipped them into your jean pocket — hoping that he wouldn't pry. Luckily, he didn't seem like the type to unnecessarily butt into other people's business.

The smoke trailed from his lips and caught the stark light of the street lamp. He almost looked cold — bathed in that bluish tint which made those cigarette fumes seem nearly luminescent.

"You here to make sure I don't run off with your paycheck?" you teased, fishing out the wad of bills from your back pocket.

You waved them at him, and considered how precarious the situation may seem to an onlooker if they happened to pass by. The man looked as though he felt the same, since he quickly glanced over his shoulder down the alleyway — checking to make sure you were alone.

"Don't worry, Dixon, I busted my ass tonight just so I could leave you a nice tip," you said with a smile, handing the money to him.

He took it, slowly, as though he had to remind himself what it was even for.

Then, he let that cigarette butt fall to the floor, and stamped it out with his boot — before dragging it along the concrete until it was nothing but embers.

The man shook his head at you. "'M here on behalf of the welcome committee."

You snorted as you processed his words, and followed him out of that narrow alleyway into the main street.

"Bullshit," you called, "as if-"

You rounded the corner after him, and stopped. He was there, leaning against that pristine sixties Honda bike — spare helmet in hand.

It was parked up on the sidewalk, polished metal glinting in all its glory under those neon lamps. Dixon was almost camouflaged against it — his black leather jacket also speckled with white light. He held out that helmet, as if it were an invitation he was waiting for you to accept.

But he seemed shy — as though acutely aware that it was only an invite, and nothing more. So, you took it, and shook your head as you realised that it wasn't his spare helmet he had offered you; it was his only helmet.

"Said I'd take ya," he murmured, fastening the strap gently under your chin.

It was too big, so the man compensated by tying it tighter until you felt like your jaw was wired shut. But, you just smiled.

"An' I ain't no liar," he said when he was done, and kicked his leg over the bike.

Then, you sped off into the night.

You yelled over the sound of the engine for him to go faster, and laughed as you had to spit out the stray hairs that had blown into your mouth. Your clothes whipped in the wind, too, and you clung to the man in front of you as though you were afraid they might catch the draft, and make you fly away. It was electrifying; your whole body felt like pure static as you rode past shop displays and windows that made your reflections look like hazed blurs.

That whole trip felt like a hazed blur, really, because suddenly you were there.

"Where are we?" you asked, unsure of where 'there' even was. "Why'd we stop?"

You pulled the helmet from your head and cocked your leg over the bike. The man let out a chuckle at the sight of your hair, sticking up from the static — as though lightning might strike at any moment.

"Smoke break," Dixon grumbled, before coaxing out the squashed cardboard packet from his jeans. "You want one?" he asked, offering it to you.

You shook your head; you didn't smoke.

He shrugged in response, cupping his hands to his face to get a flame from his lighter. You left him to it, and turned away from the bike to catch the view.

And what a view it was, indeed.

You hadn't even noticed the sounds of the lapping ocean waves before you saw them. The cliff overlooked the beach below, desolate, with a high tide that drew the shore into you. Your grandmother had told you about this place once, on the phone a few months back as she tried to sell rural Georgia to you.

It wasn't like you were given much of a choice, anyway.

But now that you'd been shipped out here — against your will, no doubt — you had to admit that she'd been partly right. It was breath-taking. Back in the city, a place like this would be littered with beer cans and tacky, disposable barbeques within a week of someone posting about it online. Here, however, it looked untouched.

It was as though the two of you were the first to ever set foot here, on this particular crag that overlooked the waves — leaving your footprints alongside tyre treads for the next pioneers to discover.

You glanced back at Dixon over your shoulder — who was busy trying to look as though he wasn't already looking at you — and smiled.

He was one hell of a welcome committee.

Daryl almost choked on the fumes of his cigarette — letting out a cough that reminded him of the way old man Dean spluttered in the mornings. He really needed to kick that habit, he thought, and snubbed out his cigarette on the ground.

Then, you scowled at him, so he picked the butt back up and stuffed it into his pocket, grimacing at the thought of having to clean it up later.

He had been lying about the smoke break, really, but then he needed to carry out his excuse. Initially, he'd only thought about picking you up from the bar and offering you a ride back to the shop. He hadn't the slightest clue of how that plan had become this.

Somewhere along the way, Daryl might have accidentally taken a wrong turn, and ended up in the most scenic place he would think of. Stupid damn street signs, he cursed, as though he hadn't driven those roads a hundred times before.

Camaro seemed to call him out on his bluff, too, since she turned to face him and immediately shook her head.

"You're lying," she said, as though she were certain, "but the view is extraordinary, so I'll forgive you just this once."

Daryl swallowed thickly, tasting the tobacco that had made his throat so dry. For someone who claimed himself not to be a liar, that was all he seemed to be doing today.

Then, he watched you make your way towards the edge of that cliff, like you couldn't even hear him warning you to be careful. It was like you weren't paying him the slightest attention. Daryl was used to that from women — but somehow, this was different.

You didn't look down on him, nor at him with any hint of prejudice for wearing jeans still coated in oil, and boots he'd had to tape the soles of just to keep them together. In fact, you weren't looking at him at all. You seemed far more concerned with the stars that flickered in the night sky above you, but at the same time grateful towards the man for having brought you to them.

"You treat all your customers like this, Dixon?" you asked him.

He watched you turn around and look at him like you'd only just remembered that he was there. But, then you beamed a smile at him so bright that it put the stars to shame — and made all of your other ones look dim in comparison.

"Y'ain't special," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Jus' given' ya a lift home 'cos Dean told me to."

Though, Dean had left the shop hours ago.

Daryl watched you laugh like you'd caught him out one more time.

"There you go again," you said, teasingly. "Do you ever tell the truth?"

No, he didn't. He always tried to, but oftentimes it never did him any good. The people of this town had already made the assumption that he was a natural born liar. You were the first person to ever make the distinction between his white lies and those other types.

All his life, Daryl had been pigeon-holed into the role of good for nothing redneck, and had only recently graduated to the slightly less stereotyped town mechanic. But that night it was as if someone, for the first time, tried to get a peek at whatever was underneath.

Old man Dean was right. You were trouble — but not for the reason he had said. You were trouble because you seemed entirely unaware of your place in the world, and it made Daryl start to question his own. You seemed nice — perhaps even lovely — but Daryl never trusted those types. He knew you were far too good to be wasting away the early hours of the morning with the likes of him — and it left him wondering what exactly you wanted.

You'd already paid for his services, after all.

"Thank you for letting me see the stars again," you breathed, stretching your neck which ached from staring at the sky. "It's been a while."

Back then, Daryl didn't quite understand what that meant. He'd thought perhaps that you'd been talking about city pollution.

On the way back, Daryl felt you cling onto him tightly as he drove through empty roads, and passed the old, flickering street lights that blinked like camera flashes. But, when his fingers accidentally brushed up against yours, as you both reached for the shop door, you pulled your hand away.

It had only been a random Tuesday — that had eventually rolled into a Wednesday by the time he'd gotten you back into your repaired Camaro — but that was the moment in his life where Daryl felt like he had finally woken up.

But even awake, he often found himself lost in daydreams of the woman who crash landed into his life, and disappeared from it just as quickly as she came.

Daryl followed the trail of debris that had fallen from the sky, as though he were tracking some giant, metal bird. He didn't want to stick around too long, given that the noise had probably attracted every damn walker in the area; he just hoped that he was still far enough away from camp that they wouldn't be drawn there.

He stepped over the hunks of hot wreckage, some of it still ablaze, until he eventually came across something soft and not made of metal.

It was that jaeger. It was dead.

It looked as though it had been struck straight out of the sky. Its feathers lay scattered around it — the white breast now red with blood — and its wing was bent at a crooked angle, broken.

Daryl scowled. If he'd known that it was going to have such a meaningless death, then he would have shot it himself. Though, he still didn't add the bird to his string of dead animals; he thought that it had suffered enough.

He continued onwards through the brush until he stumbled across what he'd been looking for. But even as he saw it with his own eyes, Daryl couldn't quite believe it. Before him was the husk of a downed helicopter, burning in the middle of the forest.

Immediately, he ran to it, tripping over the wreckage as it got thicker and harder to navigate.

Though, there was no pilot inside — only radios and machinery parts that Daryl didn't know the names of. They screeched high frequency sounds as they caught on fire, and it made his ears ring the longer he listened.

So, he turned back.

That was when he saw it — them — a few meters away. His stomach dropped. Guess that's the pilot, he thought, looking up at the body tangled in the trees.

He'd never seen a parachute in real life before — only ever in the movies. He'd also never understood how that flimsy material could stop someone from plummeting to their death.

Well, in this case it hadn't.

The pilot was dangling from one of the branches, all caught up in those wire cables like a fish on a line. The limbs were contorted awkwardly, and Daryl swallowed thickly at the sight of their arm which had definitely been broken — reminding him of that miserable jaeger's wing.

He'd been all but ready to turn around and leave. The smell of burning rubber and the white noise from those radios would probably keep him up for the next few nights, but there was nothing he could do about that.

He'd been all but ready to turn around and leave, but then the body spoke to him.

"Dixon?" he heard it gasp.

And Daryl wondered just how many impossible things he might encounter today.

The voice startled him, and he almost stumbled over his own foot in return. Walkers couldn't speak, and they surely wouldn't know his name, either. Then, he caught the slightest movement, and recognised a jacket much too familiar. It had been his, after all, before he'd given it to you.

The pilot groaned, and Daryl recognised that tone of voice, too. He quickly fumbled about for his pocket knife, not even stopping to consider how the hell he'd be able to cut you down.

He couldn't even comprehend how you were alive-

"How's it hanging?" the voice spluttered.

-and how you'd kept that same god awful sense of humour.

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skiitter · 3 years ago

Note

Also in my roundabout way I would like to request a Lann ficlet, start with angst but make it happy? or just happy. Or just anything because you are a great writer!!

okay so uh this got away from me but here's 3.8k words of lann pining after the commander and being an idiot in love.

He is not staring. He is restringing his longbow after their latest run in with the remaining demons still lingering in the area, that's it. He is absolutely not staring at his two companions huddled together across the fire. He is not watching with rapt, singular focus at their every interaction, seeking answers in her soft words, his sardonic remarks. The Aasimar gestures rudely with his hands, and she laughs loud, the chorus of it echoing through the empty ramparts. When Daeran dips his head low to whisper in her ear, the skin of her neck flushes and Lann forces himself to look away.

He's pretty sure they're sleeping together. It's hard to know for sure, thanks to his complete lack of experience in interpersonal relationships, not to mention his one and only lover having been someone he'd known since birth. Wenduag was a blunt edge of expectation, and Lann always knew exactly what was happening between them. When it comes to the Commander and Daeran, however, he isn't totally sure.

That unknowing, that gray area of wretched hope, is killing him. Falling for her was not on the agenda, seeing as she'll live for hundreds of years and he's lucky if he's got a decade left. Not to mention that she's (probably) gonna save the world and he's just some Mongrel who's legacy won't extend beyond the small role he's played in the crusade. He's never been a glutton for punishment, what with life underground being horrid enough already, but there is a sweet sting in accepting his unrequited love for her that he can't shake. It drives him, despite it's doomed end, to do whatever he can for her fight. If he cannot give her his heart, he will give her his life.

"You're staring," Seelah whispers, her hulking form crouched next to him as she sharpens her longsword.

"Can you blame me? Looking forlornly into the campfire is just one of my many talents."

Seelah chuckles and jerks her head slightly towards the Commander and Daeran. "Oh you're looking forlornly alright, but it's not at the flames. You should talk to her."

"I do talk to her. I talk to her everyday. Are you saying you don't? Honestly Seelah, she's your commander, you--"

"Fine fine, play coy. I'm just saying Lann, we could die at any minute. Do you really not want her to know how you feel?"

Lann swallows, the ugly reminder of mortality and how the sword strung above him dangles far lower than the Commander's tightening the sinew around his heart. "Sh--she doesn't need any more burdens. The Commander's got enough going on, what with that pesky Worldwound thing." He spares one last glance before turning his body away, enduring the biting cold as the heat of the fire leaves his scaled skin. "She doesn't want to deal with a lovesick Mongrel and really, who could blame her?"

"How could you possibly know what she wants if you don't talk to her?"

"Because it's not her wants I'm concerned with, it's her needs. And she needs me to be good ol' reliable Lann. She needs me to shoot my arrows and kill the baddies. She needs--she needs something she can count on and that something is me."

The Abyss happens all at once and it's a miserable experience for them all. Their time in Drezen made him soft, he thinks, because the camp at the Nexus is horrifically uncomfortable. The ground is somehow colder and harder than any other he's slept on and no amount of fire really chases away the shadows.

They spend a significant amount of time in Alushinyrra, and a significant amount of money staying at the Bad Luck Tavern just to avoid the discomforts of the Nexus. It's on one such expensive stay that a group of frankly moronic thugs try and rob the Commander while she sleeps. Her ever-present and ruthlessly protective Velociraptor dispenses them in quick measure, ripping the throat out of the final victim before Lann even has his bow drawn.

Up until that point they'd opted for three rooms, in groups of two, but they downsize to one after the attack. The Commander's life was hardly in danger but playing with fate isn't something she likes to do, chaotic nature be damned. The tavern owner grumbles but, with a golden incentive, allows them to drag one of the other beds into the room so the sleeping arrangements aren't quite so cramped.

Ember curls up into the Commander's side, her sisterly affection having transformed them from companions to near family. Woljif takes the other bed, offering half of it to Regill. The severe gnome answers him with a severe look and Woljif extends the offer to Lann instead. He glances at Daeran but the Aasimar is already tucking himself into the space between the Commander and the wall. With not a small amount of jealousy, Lann resigns himself to his fate and joins Woljif.

A soft rustling pulls him from a restless slumber some time later and Lann wakes just in time to see the Commander whisper something to Regill, who is stationed at the door, before slipping into the hallway with Daeran in tow. He watches them until they vanish and, as he looks away, makes uncomfortable eye-contact with the gnome. Regill's face is as impassive as always, but Lann feels guilty for some reason, like a kid caught with his hand in the rat cage.

"Is this going to be a problem?" Regill asks him as they head out the next morning. Well, not morning since there is no sun or sky or joy in Alushinyrra.

"Hard to say, this city does tend to be a bit on the rough side," Lann responds.

"The Commander has assured me any physical relationships she has with the party aren't going to be a problem." It's not a question but it's not not a question and Lann looks around to make sure the others aren't paying attention.

"We uh, we aren't in a physical relationship?"

"I know."

"Riiiiiight."

"But you want to be, which is arguably worse. So I'll ask you again, is this going to be a problem?"

It occurs to Lann that he should probably do a slightly better job of keeping his apparently obvious feelings on the Commander to himself. "Uh, no. No, it's not." Regill doesn't seem satisfied but then again, when does he ever? "Is uh, I mean, are the Commander and Daeran--"

"I do not gossip," Regill snarls. "Bother the thief with nonsense like that."

Lann does not, in fact, bother the thief with nonsense like that. Instead, he pushes down the swelling of affection he feels at every interaction with the Commander and focuses on the mission. It goes well enough, all things considered, until Savamelekh shows up and nearly kills him.

The demon's revelations are a bit too much for his overtaxed heart to bear and the subsequent bender doesn't help at all. When the Commander finds him, though, he just babbles on about wanting to prove to her he can be what she wants, what she needs, and that she can trust him. "I want to be somebody you can count on. I don't have anything to offer apart from my bow and my dumb jokes....and my life. And they're all yours, if you want them." He glances away, shame and discomfort crushing him from the inside out. "But I doubt you do, not now that I've let you down."

"....I could never turn my back on someone I care about just like that." She's been talking this whole time but it's these words that register hard and fast. Lann stares at her, and she stares back, and the weight of things unsaid on her face is a blessed curse. He forces a smile, bashful but steady, and pulls away from the conversation. It's too much to think about, especially because hope is not his friend, despite its insistence on hanging around.

Later, back at camp, away from everyone but her sharp-eyed Velociraptor, the Commander comes for him. He's not avoiding her, not that he really could thanks to the nature of their new normal in the Abyss, but he's not not avoiding her either. He's sitting at the edge of the cliff, staring out over the sea of fire and the city of demons. She sits beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and they are quiet for a long time.

"Next time I get drunk and come to pour my heart out to you, I'll jot down notes first," he says lightly, glancing at her. Her face is hard to read, not the open expression she'd given him back at the tavern, but he knows her well enough to know she's bothered by something. "I'm kidding of course. I'd never do that -- I don't do notes, I improvise."

"Why do you do that?"

"Improvisation is just one of my many skills, honed from my illustrious life as a Mongrel hunter. Sometimes, you got out to hunt for some rats and end up fighting a--"

"Lann, stop." He does, if only because her tone is firm. "Why do you always demean what you say with humor?"

"I'm....funny like that?"

She scowls at him and her raptor lets out a soft hiss. He's pretty sure they're connected, somehow, because otherwise that would be just plain freaky. "I love that you're funny, Desna knows we need something lighthearted with Regill around, but sometimes I--" She falters, his rocksteady monument of a Commander, and it scares him. "Sometimes I just want you to tell me how you feel."

His heart races, and hope is such a dangerous, cruel thing. "I did tell you how I felt...I meant what I said, back at the tavern. I...I'd do anything for you." The confession settles between them, demanding to be addressed.

"For me, or for the crusade, for the cause?" She's asking him a different question, he thinks.

"I--"

"Because Lann, I--you are--"

"What about Daeran?" He says it in a rush, because he can't handle whatever it is she's trying to confess.

"What about Daeran?"

"Aren't you--ya know--"

"Lann, would you do anything for me or for the crusade? To whom are you pledging your life too? Is it me? I need to know because I cannot carry on like this."

More shame, some more guilt, all for Lann. Of course his unwanted affections made her uncomfortable, of course he took her caring treatment of him to mean more than it was supposed to. He wants to leave, because he also kind of wants to cry. "Commander..."

"Not commander. Lann, please for this moment can I just be a person to you?"

She's crying, for some reason, and he doesn't know what to do. "You're always a person to me. I--you know that."

"To whom do you pledge your life?"

In the end, he knows what's more important. "The--the crusade." Lann knows that she needs to be able to rely on him without thinking he's reading into her every action, her every word. His wants are second to her needs, just as it should be.

Her face crumples, though, and the twist of her mouth breaks his heart. "Right. Okay. Of course." She stands, dusting her robes off and refuses to look him in the eye. Lann realizes immediately that he's said the wrong thing, despite his efforts to do the exact opposite.

"Commander--"

"Have a good night, Lann. Thank you for….thank you for clearing that up."

Her raptor snarls at him when he stands up to stop her and she is gone.

The next day, she announces they are heading deep into the heart of the Abyss. And, for the first time since he followed her out of the dark and into the sun, she leaves him behind.

Six months. Six long, bloody, dangerous months. He runs point with Greybor, struggling to keep the Commander's hoard of refugees safe, and spends each watch with Solsiel, pointedly not talking about their missing leader.

Several times the idea of her death comes up and he stops fighting against it. He's pretty sure they'd leave but there is no where to go. Groups of demons hunt them for sport and it's a miracle he's able to keep himself in one piece. Nenio is insufferable. Seelah is too positive. He misses Ember, and Wolfji. He misses Regill and his cold practicality. He misses the Commander and the smile she used to shoot him when he'd struck down an enemy in their path.

Eventually, it's just the five of them left. Every other life she'd saved has been systematically eradicated by the horrors of the Abyss. Still, they wait because what else are they supposed to do?

She returns, of course, because she's more myth than woman these days. What was six horrific months in hell for those left behind, was less than two weeks for them. Two weeks. The Commander doesn't cry when she sees the devastation that's been wrought in the wake of her absence. Her left hand trembles, but she stays strong. Just as quickly as they'd come, she shows them the way home.

Drezen is in shambles and it takes another week just to kill the demon forces that have taken their city. In that week, she treats him as warmly as she does Greybor. That is to say, her polite indifference is breaking him.

As things return to normal, and he contends with the loss of his tribe, Lann considers what to do. He's messed up, somehow, and he's spent six months worrying over it. He's pretty sure she wanted him to admit that it was to her he swore his life. He's pretty sure he knows why. A (admittedly short) life spent hunting for things unseen and he completely missed the things she'd tried to say.

He misses her feverishly. She's busy, daily, managing the shambles left of her crusade armies after the Queen had her way with them. The party has yet to leave Drezen since returning and Daeran has yet to leave the Commander's side. Lann feels replaced, usurped, and he cannot take it anymore.

Her door is shut, but there is candlelight spilling out underneath. Before the courage leaves him, he knocks and calls out her name.

"Lann?" She opens the door and he's half expecting to see Daeran, arrogant and naked, sprawled across her bed. Instead it's just her, exhausted and anxious, looking at him with a guarded expression. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, ya know, just everything." He tries for humorous but it comes out pathetic and they both frown. "Can I--can I come in?"

She steps aside, allowing him entrance. He's never been here, in all his time in Drezen, and while he's not totally sure what he expected, it's still a surprise. Her quarters are small, smaller than the house she'd given him upon their initial taking of the city. The desk is covered in maps and missives, and her gear is in a pile by the door. The raptor has a bed, set up beside her own, and Lann is pretty sure it looks far more comfortable than the Commander's. There is nowhere to sit so they both just stand there, awkward and uncomfortable, as she closes the door.

"What's going on? Have you heard from the clan?"

That particular sting of worry rolls over him and Lann shakes his head to push it away. "No, not yet. All quiet on the Mongrel front."

"I'm sorry, Lann." She reaches out for a moment, as if to comfort him, but stops herself short. "We'll find them, I promise."

"I didn't come here to talk about the clan."

"Okay."

"Boy, is this awkward. Uhm," he clears his throat to buy time. "Do you remember that last conversation we had?"

Her expression becomes an echo of the one she wore that night. "I do."

"I uh, I would like to do it over again."

The Commander narrows her eyes. "Why?"

Lann runs a hand through his hair, and stares at the wall beside her because if he looks at her, he'll fall apart. "I think I messed it up."

"Lann, you don't have to do this."

"Yeah, I kinda do."

She shakes her head. "It's okay I know that--what you said it's--we're fine."

"You were gone for six months, ya know. Six shitty, ugly months. You've never left me behind before." It's not an accusation but she flinches anyway. "I had a lot of time to think. Not a lot else to do, really. Well, aside from entertaining Nenio and rejecting Camellia's frankly terrifying propositions."

"She asked to sleep with you?" The Commander is suddenly furious and Lann is shameless in how warm her indignation makes him feel.

"Well, not in so many words and really, I'm kind of dense, but sneaking into my bed at night was--"

"Did she hurt you?"

"I--what?"

"Did she hurt you?"

"I--I don't know what you think sex with a Mongrel is like--"

"You slept together?" Her fury simmers down and turns her face cold.

"No! This isn't about that. I don't want to talk about Camellia. It was only once and--no. She didn't--we--nothing happened."

"You could--"

"Commander, excuse the insubordination here, but please shut up. This isn't easy and I'm losing my nerve." She frowns, but stays silent. "I want to change my answer."

"To what question?"

"To the one you asked me that night. I lied."

"What?" The inflection is too hopeful and Lann forces himself to look at her.

"It's not for the crusade or the cause or the world. It's--it's for you. My life, I mean. I'm pledging it to you. I misread things, I didn't understand what you meant. I--my life, my bow, my dumb jokes, it's yours." He struggles not to fidget, or downplay what he's saying with humor. She's staring at him, and she's crying but this time he knows why. "And my heart. If--if you want it. It's yours."

"Lann," she whispers and closes the gap between them. Her hands come up to cup the sides of his face, and they are trembling. It's a perfect match to his own shaking nerves. "Are you sure?"

He laughs, and it's watery. "It's hardly something precious to me. It's just all I have to give you and--and well really, it's already yours."

"How long?"

"Ugh no, the last thing you need to know is how long I've been pining over you."

"It was the Gargoyle attack for me, the one at the camp." She confesses it so easily, and he's rendered speechless. "When it was you that came to find me and tell me everyone was taken, my very first thought was relief; relief because they didn't take you." She presses her forehead to his own, their noses brushing. "From the moment we left for Colyphyr, I regretted leaving you behind. I could barely focus for the first few days because I was so worried about you. Every day I woke up, expecting to see you, to talk to you, and you weren't there and it was my fault. I was so mad at myself for letting my stupid feelings get in the way but the thought of having you near and knowing you'd never want me that way it--" her voice breaks and he wraps his arms around her, holding her tight.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should have realized what you were asking, I--"

"No, I'm sorry," She pulls back to look at him. "I'm so sorry I didn't just come right out and ask you how you felt. I was just scared, scared of rejection and what I would do if you said no."

"I would never--I love you." He reddens from ear to tail and he immediately wants to take it back.

Her eyes widened. "You do?"

"Well, I didn't really want to just come out and say it. I was hoping for a little more romance. Some candles, maybe a rat shaped pastry or two. We could probably get someone to play--"

"I love you, too." She captures his mouth with her own before he can stumble over anymore words and Lann relents happily to her efforts. She kisses him like he's always wanted to kiss her, all passion and tenderness, and disgustingly sincere affection. Their arms wind around one another and she pulls him to her bed.

Lann stops her. "We don't have too, really. I know I'm not exactly easy to look at--"

"Lann. I’m only going to say this once, so pay attention.” She sets him down beside her and once more takes his face in her hands. “Don’t you ever, ever talk about yourself that way again, okay? I love you, all of you, every bit and I want you, in any and every way you’ll let me.” She kissed him again, softly. “We don’t have to rush into anything, and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Just--just please know that, regardless of what you’ve been told, you’re beautiful and--and I will happily take you to bed every night.”

“Just to bed?” He aims for suggestive and, every bit the archer, he strikes true. “But there are so many other places I wish to be taken.”

“We’ll have a veritable world tour of it, but for now, can I have you here? Because this is all I’ve thought about for months and if I don’t fulfill that fantasy, I may die.”

“Regill would have my head for that.”

“He is possibly the least sexy person you could bring up at this point in time.”

Lann crowds into her, forcing her backwards until he has her pinned beneath him. “Imagine the report I’d have to write: Knight-Commander of the Fifth Crusade dies because local Mongrel fails to fulfill her sexual fantasies.” He kisses her once before moving his attention down the breadth of her jawline, and onto her neck. Her breath hitches, pressing her body up into his. “Good thing that’ll never happen because I’m a terrible writer.”

“Lann,” it’s nearly a whine, only just, but it’s enough to make him shudder, “please.” He’s always been excellent at following orders and there is no reason to stop now. Whatever she needs, he thinks, whatever she asks, he’ll give. It’s a scary thought, but it’s the only one he’s had for it feels like his whole life. Her hands snake across the skin of his chest, pulling at his armor with frantic hands. “Let me see you. Let me touch you.”

He relents, and soon they are but a tangled mess of limbs. It’s nothing like he’s known, but he’s ruined forever now. He’s hers, like he has been since that serendipitous moment beneath the ruins of Kenabres, and to his unbelievable shock and surprise, she is his.

#pathfinder: wrath of the righteous #pathfinder wrath of the righteous #wrath of the righteous #lann #lmao holy fuck this got away from me #its p good tho #we love a good angsty pine #thank u anon #sorry this took me a few days!#skitterfics #Edit: Some of Lann's dialog is taken straight from the game #i don't wanna try and pass that off as my own obv

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shushiyuii · 3 years ago

Note

Maybe Giant!Sapnap and Tiny!Dream noms? Sapnap tries to protect Dream by eating him and Dream panics thinking that he's going to die but then he realizes that he's safe?

I don't se so many g!sapnap with t!dream or t!george noms

Finally, pain has subsided so i can finally write! Yaay! Also, remember my requests are open so feel free to send some in!

Warnings: Mentions of almost death and injury, soft vore

Words: 1.3K+

The three of them ran from the incoming Piglins that weren’t so far behind them, so maybe coming to the nether a little bit unprepared was a bit of a mistake, because they were now being targeted but a lot of the inhabitants of this flaming realm.

They were being chased by Piglins as they had no gold, Ghasts were eyeing them and Hoglins thought they finally had a plaything.

“Look- We’re almost there!”. Screamed George, the three had almost made it to their nether portal, finally, they’d be safe from whatever endeavours were here and escape into their more peaceful and adaptable realm, the Overworld.

But maybe hopes were looking a little too high wouldn’t you think? Because George was way ahead of the two of them, somehow, with Sapnap and Dream being somewhat left behind.

Suddenly, Sapnap tripped slightly, almost falling to the ground until Dream grabbed him and pulled him up, continuing to run to the portal.

They looked ahead to see George leaning outward from the portal, reaching out his hand to take theirs. Then a strange cry was heard from behind them, from a Ghast. They booked it as much as they could to George, but ultimately too late.

The Ghast’s fire charge hit the portal, hitting George with it. “GEORGE!” the two screamed but saw no flying George, he must’ve gotten through the portal before it was destroyed. The two looked back, seeing the other mobs behind them.

They had to continue to run, somewhere where the two of them would at least be safe until somebody came to get them since none of them had a flint and steel.

The two of them pulled a 180, heading upwards towards the ceiling, “Cover me!”, Sapnap yelled as he pulled out a pickaxe, Dream crouched down, pulled out his bow and began to shoot at the incoming enemies. Sapnap mined into the netherrack, making a tunnel.

Once he was done, he pulled Dream into the tunnel and covered the entrance with more netherrack, blocking them from the mobs on the outside, with the mobs being gone the two finally got a break.

The two panted, Sapnap dropping to the floor and Dream leaning his hand on the wall. Sapnap looked over to Dream, “Y-you, okay?”. Dream snapped his hand towards Sapnap.

“Am I okay? AM I OKAY?! After everything that just happened?! You asked if I’m, okay?! George could be fucking dead Sapnap!”.

Sapnap’s eyes widened, “D-dream.”. “If it weren’t for you, we might’ve made it!”. “DREAM!”, “WHAT?!”. “If George had died, we would’ve seen the message on our communicators!”.

Dream immediately pulled out his communicator in a huff, scanning it for any mention of what their friends’ fate could be, to find none.

“H-he’s okay, see?”. Sapnap huffed, Dream looked at him with guilt in his eyes, “Sorry Sap I-“. “It’s fine Dream, don’t worry about it, I get it”. The two looked at each other, both with worry in their expressions, Dream made his way to Sapnap and sat down next to him.

“So, what now?”. Sapnap huffed, “We can’t get back to our old portal since it was destroyed and well, covered by mobs, we’ll have to make through the nether until we find somebody”. “How are we gonna do that? We came unprepared.”.

“Didn’t you inherit some nether traits from your dad or something?”. Sapnap sighed, “Besides heat resistance, nothing”. “Fuck”.

“It’s best we just adventure out then and hope we find another way home then.”. “Right.”.

The two stood up after their break, and began to mine through the nether’s ceiling, and soon enough found ground as their tunnel finally found a way into the nether once again, the two carefully made their way down from the ceiling and began to wander again, hopefully going to find somebody or a portal.

The two were now in a slightly open area, a warped forest not too far away. Things were actually surprisingly okay for a while until they were surrounded again…

Mobs had found their way to them again, Sapnap being the person he was, pushed Dream behind him, putting himself between them and the monsters.

“Sapnap!”, Dream wanted to resist, not wanting to stand by but that was simply impossible as his once average height friend turned giant, he stared in amazement as his friend began to stomp on the mobs, that was until his friend got hit by a ghast.

Sapnap turned around to face the ghast, but his attention subverted as Dream almost got hit by a mob, which was quickly stomped on by Sapnap, it was clear that Sapnap wasn’t able to focus on so many things at once and Dream couldn’t help with being out of arrows.

So, Sapnap swiftly picked up Dream and threw him into his mouth and jumped off the edge into the lava, he dove in. And once he surfaced, he felt Dream squirming, not wanting his friend to get hurt accidentally by lava he swallowed. He was promptly hit by Dream on the way down, but it was worth it.

Once he reached Sapnap’s storage stomach, there was immediate kicking and punching, “SAPNAP! LET ME OUT!”, he put a hand to the squirming man and applied pressure, amplifying his movements, “Sap-“, “Calm down Dream, you’re safe. Remember, demon trait?”. “Right, am I in your storage?”. “Yep.”.

Sapnap despite not inheriting a lot of demonic abilities much like his father, did inherit the biology of fire resistance, size-shifting and of course the ability to store things within him, making him the perfect person to hide inside of, but otherwise, that was all he really inherited from his father.

He sighed, “What now?”. “Well, it looks like you’re going to have to swim across the lava until you find land”.

Sapnap groaned in frustration as Dream laughed, “Argh! I hate you”. Sapnap said in a huff and got a rub from Dream in return, who was now comfortably laying in his friend's stomach, “Be quiet and get along will you?”.

He swam for a while and eventually found land, he was contemplating letting Dream but realised the danger he would put his friend into and decided against it, so he wandered for a while, which was a bit difficult with a few tight fits, he almost got stuck in a hole.

And then after what seemed like hours, he heard his name. “Sapnap?! Oh, my muffin, are you okay?!” he heard and turned his head, to see his father running towards him on a ledge, he leaned down towards his father, who held his cheeks in worry. “I’m fine Dad”. Was mumbled whilst a worried father checked over his son.

He sighed in relief when he saw no injury, behind him was his stepfather, Skeppy. “Where’s Dream?” asked his father, and in response to that blushed and looked away, Bad looked confused and worried for a moment until he realised what that meant. “Awhh! Sappy! No need to be embarrassed about it!”. He smiled.

Then Bad changed size himself, putting Skeppy on his shoulder and helping his son onto the ledge, Dream had put together what he had happened, “Sap, ask if they’ve seen George!”. “Oh, right!”. Bad looked over,

“Dad? Have you seen George?”. “Yes of course I have, he was a bit injured with burns and we treated him before we came, he’s okay don’t worry!”.

Sapnap sighed in relief and soon they made their way to the nether portal, which Dream was finally let out and the four of them made it back to the overworld safely.

Dream and Sapnap crowded a slightly injured George and the three of them were reunited with each other after that massive and unpredictable adventure but were glad about how things came out.

#mcyt g/t #mcytg/t #dsmp g/t #tw vore #giant!sapnap #sizeshifter!sapnap #giant!bbh #sizeshifter!bbh #tiny!dream #tiny!george #tiny!skeppy #shushi's writings

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alluringjae · 4 years ago

Text

until dawn; pt. II - ljn

part I | part II

⤑ summary: basic number one rule of the museum is not to touch the art. but no one told jeno that falling for one of them isn’t allowed either.

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 12.2k

⤑ genre: ANGST, fluff, romance, smut (f receiving, dom!jeno waow, dirty talk, wrap it everyone) | broke architecture major!jeno, historical figure!reader, enemies to lovers!au, college!au, night at the museum-inspired!au

⤑ warnings: references to actual historical figures, explicit language, graphic details, major heartbreak caused by another party, expect time jumps too

⤑ author’s note: happy jeno day!! i’ve been so excited to post this part, and i’m happy we’re here!! perhaps, this is the last long fic i’ll write for a while so i can rest, but i’ll still be posting short stories within the weeks to come! i’m excited for may to say the least hehe

btw, for the smut scene (indicated with **), i highly recommend you listen to strange (feat. hillary smith) by kris bowers!! this song is from the bridgerton soundtrack, and oh man, the feels!!

with that, enjoy!

italicized text either means they are personal notes or flashbacks.

this was meant to be more angsty, but either way, i screamed every time i wrote something gut-wrenching.

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome

⤑ ctto above!!

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism, or hellos!

“You ready to get your butt beaten by me, Lee?”

“Prepare your final words when I win instead, (Y/L/N).”

Mischievous banter exchanged between you two became a new norm. Almost every night, someone within the art pieces established a contest over anything and it released the competitive sides of you two. So far, Jeno has been winning. Not like it hurt your pride, but maybe just once, you could conquer one game to feel better. Not only that, there’s a mini penalty for the loser. So far, you’ve cleaned up the lobby yourself and acted cutely to everyone the entire evening (or aegyo as Jeno called it).

Tonight, a game of archery was held by the Greek gods. They pushed away any extra pieces away, leaving the whole room vacant with two boards right beside Zeus’ throne. Numerous arrows were produced and sharpened, Zeus in the center announced to everyone participating.

“It’ll be 1 on 1 games. First to go are Jeno vs (Y/N), followed by Athena vs. Hermes, Cleopatra vs. Freddie, and last would be Hades vs Aphrodite.”

Cutting the chase, you didn’t expect Jeno to be that good at archery. Sure, he told you that he took classes with his friends for fun when he was younger, though it showed that he’s a fast learner and even hit one bullseye in the middle of the game.

Not slightly threatened until the last rounds, you fixed your aim and lessened your overthinking when preparing to shoot. Thus, you scored 2 bullseyes shot. It was a close fight, having the audience on the edge on their feet again because it’s the two of you. Your dynamic with the night guard always elevated the mood, shifting their bets over and over again.

By 1 point, you received your first victory against Jeno. Unlike you, he showcased his sportsmanship sweetly without any comments of disbelief. He’s never bragged about anything big in his life, not unless it’s a high grade for his plate. Normally, he celebrated wins in a laid-back manner. But don’t be fooled: he loves giving penalties.

“This is why I don’t make bets with my friends because I really go for their weak spots.”

“You’re cynical, Lee Jeno.”

“Only if you’re close to me, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Aren’t we already past that stage?”

Almost halfway through his job, he sustained a meaningful friendship with you. Out of everyone, you were his default person to hang out within the nights he had a shift. If he wasn’t present, he made sure to give you small treats or gifts as much as possible. An innocent friendship, it was that the world would’ve never believed in.

Or was it?

“To celebrate your win, what do you want me to do?”

“You’re too kind for me to play around with, even if you’re the complete opposite of me.”

“I’ll make it simple and worthwhile since I don’t know when I’ll win a game again.” As your finger tapped your temple as you pondered deeply, a smart idea came through. “Grant me 3 wishes.”

He chuckled, lowering himself to view you better. “Am I like some genie now to you?”

“No room to complain, I won, didn’t I?” You grinned, raising one brow to show your dominance.

“You’re petty in your own way, aren’t you?��

“Perhaps. Now come on, I want to use my first wish.” You shrugged it off like no big deal, loving the high feeling of triumph. You lead him to the center of the lobby, where a beautiful grand piano only selected people get to play during exhibits. “Open the museum piano.”

Ever since you were brought to life, you never used it. Tempting but because people from the outside might here, maybe it’s time to try something new. A new challenge, and besides, you missed entertaining people through it. The last time you touched the delicate piano keys was to your family before you ran away.

It’s a good thing that in the shackle of keys Jeno held, the needed key was there. Unlocking the lustrous black instrument, you sat by the matching black bench. Crackling your fingers, you tested by pressing a few keys to get the hang of it again.

“What are you planning to play, (Y/N)?” Jeno leaned against the side, his arms crossed.

Humming the first notes of your piece, the nostalgia ran through your veins. “Nocturne No. 2 in E flat by Chopin.”

Your fingers took off and played each chord slowly and calmly. This piece reminded you the most of your mother, who sat by the couch in front of your old piano with your father while guests from the party they hosted crowded around you. Being the youngest, they often requested you to perform as entertainment so you always put your best foot forward. Or so you tried.

Nevertheless, no one else in your family was capable to play this piece as perfectly as you. By the way your eyes closed and your body swayed to the mellow tune, Jeno observed how you memorized this piece by heart. A passionate flame you were, outshining every pianist out there.

He wasn’t surprised at how multi-talented you were, though there’s a different kind of aura you present when you played the instrument. From your hard and tough front, you could be soft and sweet to the right people.

In a way, you showed your comfort toward the boy by serenading him with the piano. Sketching him with him in the past was one thing, but this was another. You’d sketch with people you’ve grown used to, but you play piano to people you want to cherish in your life. As dangerous as it seems, Jeno was someone special to you, only wanting to have good moments with him.

Junmyeon will always have a huge part in your museum life, but Jeno filled the emptiness that he left behind. This loneliness for a human friend vanquished thanks to Jeno, and you didn’t want to jeopardize it at all. Sure, whenever he acted like a gentleman around you, let you inside the Foreign Art Room, or brought you food sometimes, you couldn’t help feel honored.

Though lately, every time he showed off his strength when he defeated Zeus and Hades during an arm wrestle game the god held again. You seriously had to catch a breath at every flex his arms made, like the goddesses. Maybe how he pushed his black hair back when he’s drawing another plate, you’d give yourself a few extra seconds to see his long fingers skim through them. He’d bit his lower lip when he’s in too deep with his creativity, wondering if he’d bite the lower lip of the girl he’d ki-

All right, (Y/N), relax. Maybe you’re thinking this way because it’s been decades since your last relationship. You wouldn’t want to fall for another possible trap and hurt yourself again, right?

Ever since this job, Jeno’s university life drastically changed. Yes, he still hung out with his friends and performed extremely well in his classes, though he prioritized anything related to the museum wherever he was. If they were drinking out, he’d buy an extra bottle of soju for you on his way back to the dorm. Rarely does he get shitfaced anyways.

If he and Renjun visited the bookstore to purchase pens or any art-related materials, he always bought either an extra sketchpad or set of pens. Even if you were simply a figure to everyone else, he appreciated the bond you both developed.

Every night, he’d tell you about his day from the start. Normally, it consisted of a lot of schoolwork and coffee, some stories about his roommates too. Speaking of them, he’d insert a lot of humorous words about his entire group of friends, whom you learned their names too.

Mark, Jaemin, Renjun, Jisung, Chenle, and Donghyuck, each of them presented a different color in their group. Jeno, who’d admitted to being shy and quiet, grew out of his shell because of them. A friend of Jeno’s would automatically be a friend of yours, if only you were allowed to leave the museum or become a human.

Jeno learned more about your past explorations that never got documented because you no longer had an interest in jotting them down. They were adventures you’d kept to yourself, memories only close to you then would know. Except now, Jeno was another addition. You’re not the type to instantly open to people, though again, a sense of relief surrounded him every time you encounter each other. It grew gradually like a warm hug, softening your heart and breaking your walls.

The more he spent time with you, nothing feared Jeno the slightest. He’s always maintained himself intact, avoiding lines to be crossed and giving respect to those who deserve it. However, he began to question himself where exactly his feelings lie with you after Jaemin tried to set him up on a blind double date just so the best friend of his date wouldn’t feel left out.

He’s rarely one to get crushes on people, even when other girls in his college openly showed their affection towards him. Valentine’s Day or his birthday, several girls sent him chocolate or flowers. Jaemin and Renjun got sick of girls reaching out to them first so they could reach him. It’s not because he’s not the dating type, but because he’s so goal-oriented that unlike his roommates, he doesn’t have a slight clue about dating.

Though one-night stands while at a party and dating were completely different, he’d still say he had experience with girls. Plus having an older sister, he never took advantage of them. He’d rather tell them in person that the feelings weren’t mutual than ghosting them. He’s not like Jaemin anyways.

With that, he’s so lost when his heart beats twice as fast the second you’ve woken up from your posing slumber. He doesn’t comprehend how flustered he’d be when you highly insist to help him with his plate or how cute he finds it when you’re playing fetch with Mochi. On top of it, when you chose to sketch each other for one of your sketching sessions, he’d take a longer stare at your visage before he drew some strokes.

A lot of historical accounts mentioned how your beauty was the standard of the Victorian era, wherein you were the jewel of your neighborhood and numerous men wanted your hand. Women envied you, especially having high intelligence skills that were equivalent to a man. That time, that felt like a threat to most men. Though surprisingly, it turns out there were men who liked intelligent girls.

Jeno knew he liked you as a friend, though liking you past that he didn’t intend. Nor was it allowed because it’ll break one of the golden rules. Before he’d go beyond contemplating, he had to stop himself. This was so unlike him. The feelings will fleet away, he’d repeat to himself. Don’t waste a great friendship because of your silly emotions.

Individually, both of you swallowed these harboring feelings down your guts and simply kept your friendship status safe. Doing your typical activities or whatever else you could think of, none of you minded to change it whatsoever.

Unknown to you though, it was obvious to the other art pieces ones that you two practically passed off as young lovers. Although they know that pushing one towards the other went against the rules, Aphrodite begged to differ.

“Holding them back from expressing what they really feel just because of the law here is a tragedy. They should at least try, you know?”

On another typical night, Jeno invited you to the Theater Room for a movie marathon. After finding out that you’ve never seen any moving pictures, he wanted to be there to introduce it. Luck was on his side to not have plates or requirements due for the week and everyone was behaving themselves, so he started with rolling out short films from the 88mm projector. Having premade popcorn and drinks, the two of you shared roars of laughter and emotional tears.

Switching to the cd player for longer and clearer films, you’d opt to believe that you were born at the wrong time. With all these advancements, it came with a lot of new beliefs. One of them was allowing women to study and work. Then again, she was a pioneer according to historians. Without her, it wouldn’t help shape society as it is today.

Nonetheless, this movie Jeno played on the big screen was what he defined as “one of the classics”, 10 Things I Hate About You.

This outspoken character named Kat was presenting a poem to her class, trying to hold in her raw emotions towards Patrick, the boy who broke her heart. Too engaged, you didn’t notice how Jeno stretched his arms out so he could wrap one around your shoulder. Not that you were complaining, his warmth reassuring you safety.

“I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme. I hate it, I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie.” The way she attempted to keep her strong ground only reminded you of where you were weeks ago, especially once she excruciatingly broke down.

“I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when you're not around, and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.” Only when you leaned back to the chair, you felt his arm. His thumb caressing your covered shoulder, you peeked him a little bit. His eyes fixated on the screen, absorbed in the acting and how Kat’s tears weren’t scripted as she stormed out of the classroom.

Not that you were her, but it sparked the past memory of how you merely disliked him because of his job. But as a person, not even close, not even once did you hate him. How blessed that he never judged you for it, staying patient all this time.

Right before he could look back at you, you moved your face back to resume your watching. Jeno definitely noticed what you did, though not sure as to why. Whatever it was, it wasn’t harmful.

Once the film ended, Jeno checked his watch for the time. 4 am, he wanted to do something else now instead of film viewing. You were on par with it, wanting to walk it out after being seated for hours. As you both cleaned up and bid the posters outside goodbye, the doors to the museum were locked unexpectedly. Impossible on Jeno’s half because he had the keys for every room, but he double-checked his bunch.

Alas, the keys for these doors specifically were missing. But there was no other way anyone could’ve gotten it, plus it’s not like the last person he talked to, which was Aphrodite, would need it.

Or did she?

Rather than putting any blame on each other, your only wish now was to return to your section before sunrise. You and he could just relax momentarily before yelling for help.

“Maybe we should watch another film first?”

“Alright, you choose while I return the rest.”

As Jeno inserted the cd of Cinema Paradiso inside, the background music of the opening played. He hummed the first notes, already feeling the love from this film. Another must-see classic as recommended by Renjun, he wanted to rewatch it with you.

Slowly returning each cd and film roll to their respective drawers, the melodious theme had you waltzing in the small space. Even beyond your life, classical music never gets old. Aging like fine wine, sounding spectacular as time passes because of people’s creativity.

Jeno gazed over your sudden movements, smiling uncontrollably at how immersed you were as you multi-tasked. However, you took a wrong turn by the desk and almost dropped a priceless film roll. But before you fully slipped and fell, a pair of strong arms caught you at the right time. Panting from the nerves, mostly when he was inches from your face. Never has he pressed his body this close to you to protect you, and never have you seen his captivating eyes this up close.

As enchanting as the background music of Ennio Morricone was, it only became noise once Jeno took ahold of the film roll on your hand and placing down on the desk. Taking another step closer, you were backed up by the edge. Not to mention how his height dignified his impact on you, your arms were still situated by your side with nowhere else to go.

That was until his finger elevated your chin so he could meet you on eye-to-eye level. His other hand gripping your waist, you became brave enough to place your hands by his broad shoulders. Licking your lips, you glanced at his lips quickly. But he noticed it, and as risky as this was, it was a leap of faith to take.

“May I kiss you?”

Always such a gentleman, even when he already knew how much you desired him through your returning affections. Calming your breath patterns by the speed of everything occurring, you came back to your senses. He’s the one who constantly told you not to forget your roots, so you were going to take this one.

You trust him, and he does too.

“Yes.”

Since the first film, some kind of tension increased the closer he moved or intimate his actions were towards you. You kept pushing it back in hopes not to ruin what you both have. But it only turned out to be mutual, especially how none of you held back as soon as his lips passionately clashed yours.

Tangling your arms around his neck, you stood on your tiptoes to press even closer to him. Feeling his lively heart pumping against your hollow chest, you bit his lower lip. Something you’ve secretly craved to do, he growled from the pleasure. He hoisted your waist to the desk, his impatient hands earnestly traveling all over your body. While your legs locked around his torso, your feisty nature leaned back so your entire body lied on the small desk.

Jeno was on top, placing one hand down to hold himself while the other squeezed your waist firmly. Even if you’re made of wax, you’re like an actual living woman at night. Everything about you becomes real until dawn. You emitted vulgar moans, giving him more access to your neck. Peppering a mix of soft to hard kisses, your hand teasingly snaked under his shirt. He really wasn’t joking when he bragged that he was quite ripped since he enjoyed sports and going to the gym, cupping a part of his toned abdomen.

“If you want something, all you have to do is ask.” He sluggishly sucked the area between your ear and neck, one of your weakest spots. “What’s on your mind, baby?”

The growing moistness in between your legs left a stain in your panties, trying to close your legs out of embarrassment. It’s been decades since you’ve been stimulated like this. However, Jeno beat you to it as he trailed the hand that was on your waist and lowering it right above your covered sex. He cupped it agonizingly slow, making you folding your leg from the pleasure. For a man who doesn’t date around, he knew exactly what he’s doing.

“I just kissed you, and you’re already this soaked. Can you handle me, baby?”

As the strong woman that you present yourself to be, it would selfishly take the right touch from the right man to weaken you. With his savage lips back on yours while your hands clutched on his shirt, he was simply waiting for a verbal answer, yet driving you completely mad. Everything was happening so fast, and here he was to please you in anywhere you seem fit.

You were deprived, and oh, you needed it more than ever.

However, seconds before you replied, there was loud rumbling from the main doors which stopped your devilish antics. As Jeno moved back from you to see the ruckus, you lifted yourself back up, pulling back your dress sleeves and flattening out the creases. The last thing you wanted was a trail of familiar red marks from the aggressive male, finding any reflective surfaces to check.

“I wouldn’t be that dumb to leave you hickies now, would I?” Jeno ended your worries as he placed his hands by your side again. His face leaned towards yours again, reliving the warmth in your cheeks. His lips were plumper, catching traces of your coral lipstick smudged there down to his jaw. He slotted himself again between your legs, grazing a hand on your waist and the other to your warm cheek. “The door’s unlocked now, and it’s 5 am. Do you want to clean up now?”

You playfully scoffed, aware that neither of you had plans to do that yet. Such a player while in the heat of the moment.

“Spare me 15 more minutes with you first.”

Hiding the romance you’ve both built failed without trying. Aphrodite spotted all the signs from your open physical affection and words of admiration, calling you two out in front of everyone without shame. She is the goddess of love, after all. You couldn’t fool her even if you tried.

Plus, she’s the one who locked the two of you up in the Theater Room that night. But neither of you know that.

“Sketch my ideal home?” Jeno bent down to the table, testing out his newly bought pens so they wouldn’t spill.

“Isn’t that why you decided to pursue Architecture in the first place? Come on now!” You pestered across him, opening your new sketchpad since your last one ran out of pages. As expected, Jeno bought you one when he went to the bookstore. As much as you insisted not to because he should use the money somewhere else, he did it anyway. He loved your works, encouraging you in any way he could.

When he was reminded of his humble beginnings of his passion for architecture by you, never had he envisioned exactly how his perfect home would be like. Settling down was so far beyond his mind, only focusing to graduate university then study for the licensure exams. However, he did miss drawing something for fun, not as a requirement. He also was the one who took charge of designing his dorm.

“Fine, only if you draw what your ideal home would’ve been if you never left London.”

Now as lovers, the only addition to your relationship were the public and private exchanges of affection. Deep conversations, film viewing, back and forth banter, you’re both still the same competitive duo everyone expected to be together. In public, the two of you held hands, hugged, kissed each other cheeks too when it felt right. Cleopatra’s face of fake nausea was priceless every time, while Princess Diana, Anne, and Katherine enjoyed it. It’s been years since they’ve seen this glow of adoration in you. Bit by bit, you’re going back to the old you. Except now, you’re a lot stronger.

Perhaps, this version of you proved wrong for the need for romance. Even if you made the choice not to settle down then, it would’ve been different if Jeno was in your universe then.

“Are you done there?” Jeno asked while you were finishing up your masterpiece. Life in London sounded fun when you were younger, having all these ideas on interior design and the like. An innocent time.

Instead of replying, you strode to his side and compared your pieces together. He pictured a two-story home, with a backyard and rooftop area. He definitely wanted to stay in the city as his whole life was based there. Although you preferred living in the countryside more for more freedom, you gave it a shot by pinpointing every detail of a wealthy typical Victorian-era home you liked. You desired a spacious lobby with a grand staircase in the middle, a crystal chandelier there too. The living room would have a small library and a grand piano, where wide doors leading to the grasslands were beside it.

Considering you two lived from different times, in a way your ideal homes were similar. Somewhere private, surrounded by nature and minimal furniture, you’re curious as to how it would look if the two of you fused them together. A mix of old and new, will it look pretty?

“What will look pretty?” Jeno questioned your random thought, looking back and forth at your sketches. “You know who’s pretty though?”

“If you say what I think you’re going to say, I’m lea-”

“You.”

Jeno has gotten flirtier since that night, always finding the right opportunity to flatter you. Although you denied them out of embarrassment, the butterflies in your stomach can’t lie to you.

You’re so smitten, and so was he.

Jeno’s always one to follow the rules, but so far, he’s been breaking some of them already.

Just last night, he gave Renjun access to the lively museum because he needed more research regarding you. Initially, he practically interviewed Jeno for every piece of information he gathered because he used to be so deep in the books to study everything about you. Now in the past, Renjun still couldn’t forget how Jeno drunkenly admitted how crazy he was going to be over you and your coldness whilst sobering up in the dorm.

He didn’t understand one bit by that, especially when you’re technically dead. But by the sight of the first piece Renjun saw alive, which was Zeus, he almost passed out. Piece by piece, he viewed these artworks come to life from his fresh eyes. Right before he could’ve screamed when Athena shot a lightbulb in their exhibit, you happily called out Jeno’s name.

Renjun froze on the spot upon seeing your wax figure come to life. He’s browsed through this museum numerously due to the new exhibits, but lately, he checked your section out to find any tiny details that were linked to your life. Aside from the sketchpad, compass, and hairpins, he wanted to know if there was more to your life as an explorer.

As human interactions except the night guard weren’t allowed, Renjun needed help for his project in Women Studies. Just like Jeno’s assignment, you aided him. Fruitfully answering every question he gave you, Athena popped out of nowhere to inspect Jeno.

“I see you’re breaking another rule.”

“I’m sorry, Athena. He was desperate, and it would be selfish of me to let him fail.”

“This is the last one I’ll let slide, alright?” Athena huffed, not impressed by the reckless behavior Jeno acquired over time. She saw this coming, but for a change, she couldn’t punish him. He was a young adult, still learning more about life. Only will she step in if things turn for the worst. “I can’t believe I’ve gained a soft spot for you.”

Jeno laughed, hugging the figure like his older sister. “You love me though!”

Glad to say, Renjun aced his project and kept his word of not telling anyone about the happenings in Jeno’s job. Jeno even made a makeshift non-disclosure contract so Renjun wouldn’t spill the slightest details.

Lately, so much has been happening in the museum that having alone time with each other was rare. And when you did, the two of you made sure to maximize it and make every intimate moment count. From each touch, each longing kiss, each moan, and groan, never were you left hanging whether you’re at the Theater Room, Jeno’s office, or the Foreign Art Room.

The only time the two of you went beyond the boundaries was at the indoor garden. Jeno managed to get the key to it, lighting up some candles before you invited you inside. Thanks to the magic of the Greek gods, the cameras were bewitched to display fake imageries when security checks in the morning after.

Upon your deep conversations, you’ve mentioned once or twice about the indoor garden. It was the latest addition of the museum, opening in the early 2000s. Because it was a sacred place, no art piece was ever allowed inside.

Yet again, Jeno challenged the rules again when he invited you inside. A few minutes before, he set up some lights along the hallway of the garden, where he placed a blanket, a picnic basket, and his laptop right at the end of it. The best place to view everything, he just knew you’d love it.

He was undoubtedly right once you gasped at such a pretty sight. Seeing the silhouettes of various flowers and plants together with the night sky with all the stars sparkling, it was like you’re attending another ball with your sisters, who were looking for suitors then.

Once Jeno leisurely led you until the end, he brought out all the delicacies from the basket. One of them was this Italian savory dish of dough with toppings such as cheese and pepperoni, or pizza as they named it. The next ones were fresh strawberries and melted chocolate, followed by grape juice.

“I’d drink actual alcohol with you again, only if I didn’t get shitfaced and do my job properly.”

“Point taken. Besides, this is close enough. So pour me a drink please.”

Perhaps this was the closest to a date Jeno could ever ask you out to. With the restrictions and being constrained with time, he brainstormed all sorts of ways to bring the outside world to you. From simply letting you wander around this fascinating room, he unleashed the inner romantic in him. None of his friends would’ve thought since they never asked him about it, so he kept it to himself only. Finally, he’s satisfied with what he prepared. After eating, the two of you would watch more films before the sun rose again.

You’re just the right person for him at the moment he can act that way.

After your quiet stroll and sitting back down, Jeno surprisingly handed you a tiny box.

“A gift?”

“Open it.” He sipped on his juice, paying attention to your actions. Gently untying the box, the amazement in your eyes couldn’t fathom such a lovely present. No words were required to verify that Jeno outdid himself again, just your facial expression alone is enough.

When Jeno said that he pays attention to the tiny details, he doesn’t bluff. Throughout your growing relationship, you’ve cited how you wanted another special flower in your life. Just because you couldn’t view lavender roses the same way ever again, it didn’t mean you wanted to kick them out of your life. Flowers were one of nature’s beautiful creations, so you’re wishing to find the love you once had for lavender roses in other ones.

Thus, you came across what you thought held the highest form of meaning: red roses. Despite its thorns, it’s still a marvelous flower. Innocently, you told him that just because of the memory of your father giving them to your mother on her birthday yearly.

Red roses represented true love and romance, a discreet message only those eager would know.

Jeno was one of them, which was why he reserved this gift for this very moment. It was a necklace he found through a college fair recently, a subtle red rose pendant in the center. Since he couldn’t give you huge gifts, he settled for something light. Something none of the guards or the director wouldn’t pinpoint out when they do their inspections.

“Do you like it?”

Not one utter from your mouth since you’re so hypnotized, your lips quirked up in a charming smile. “Is that even a question? This is astonishing, Jeno.”

After you attempted to put it around your neck, Jeno sighed and stepped in to help you out. “Turn around, (Y/N). Let me.”

The tension gradually heightened once you held your hair up so Jeno accessibly viewed your clean neck. Clasping the lock, it took all his might to hold himself back from you. Even from behind, your silhouette was attractive to him. The lights he set up weren’t helping the slightest of what he’s thinking to do with you.

“Done.” He breathily whispered in your ear.

If he thought he was the only one feeling something powerful, he’d be more than wrong. The lingering sensation of his slim fingers gracing your décolletage area unhinged another kind of want, the one you’ve only imagined in your mind when you were needy and alone. It shouldn’t be a sin unless you’re with the person you’ve fallen for, right?

Facing him again, the eye contact didn’t last long when you were the first one to strike a move. Jeno kissed back right away, his hands pulling you closer by your waist. Whatever sultry music Jeno played, it gave you the perfect momentum to grind on his lap. He groaned against kisses, adding his tongue. His thumbs sensually rubbed your hipbones, one of your hands toying around with his hair while the other one balled up his shirt by the chest. None of you cared if anyone caught you.

The last time you’ve been this aggressive was at the Theater Room, which eventually increased the hidden lust you’ve had towards each other. Taking things slowly at first, it’s about time to delve in for more. The mood was already set from the start, even if Jeno didn’t plan this to happen here. But being the prepared man he is, he did have a condom in his back pocket.

Your fingers trailed from his neck until his crotch. He was hard, sensing how suffocated he must be. But he kept himself in control. Locking eye contact, you sweetly spoke.

“Grant my second wish, Jeno.” That same hand of yours held one of his, planting it in your breast. “Make love to me.”

Giving the go-signal, he crashed his lips on yours while stripping you off your dress. Carefully, he turned you around to untie your tight corset. Once it fell, your neck leaned sideways as his lips attacked it madly. Your breaths were tremulous, placing both his hands on your freed breasts to knead with. His touch felt like fire on your skin, yet you couldn’t stop.

“Jeno,” Obscene moans from your lips choked out. You desired more, shifting back to face him again to attack his lips. Slowly feeling one of his hands laying you down, you spread your legs with ease just for him. He parted after your head landed on the cushion to unbutton himself. The way your mouth dropped to selfishly stare at his bare body, flexing them before getting back into position. He was fit and toned just as Cleopatra predicted.

As much as Jeno knew how wild your thoughts were getting, he was more taken aback by your perky chest.

“Fuck, you are divine.” He sucked one nipple as his fingers ventured to slip your panties down. So much was going on, you didn’t know which stimulated you more. You tried to close your legs around his hand, but he slapped your inner thigh to stop you.

The cool breeze shivered you, especially from your core. Jeno’s fingers adventurously grazed from your hip area to your lower lips. He teasingly rubbed it up and down in your essence, his index finger settling it right at your needy clit. Another moan escaped your lips, an opportunity for Jeno to slide his tongue in your mouth. Enjoying the moment, his fingers dipped inside you. A gasp broke your kiss, making him giggle in your ear.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Oh, angel. The things I want to do with you.”

Sliding them back and forth, curling it even, you squirmed for more. Dropping himself to meet your core, Jeno placed your legs on his shoulder. Pushing you closer, his steamy breath felt like friction. Your hips grinded against it, so he gripped on them so you stay put.

“Angel,” He chuckled darkly, his crotch tightening at how powerless you looked. “You’re so pretty.”

You were drenched from arousal. But to Jeno, you were glowing under the lights. He wanted to take his time to admire what he had done to you. His independent girl, only weak for him.

His fingers unfolded in your lower lips, diving in to your orbit. You could hardly speak from his skilled mouth, especially his tongue savagely lapping your clit in numerous paces. You’ve only daydreamed about what it could do aside from kissing, and it exceeded your expectations. By the heated sensation that had the heels of your feet digging his back deeply, you affirmed to have seen more stars than the night sky above you.

Your back arched uncontrollably while his hands grasped your hips to stay in place, the tears in your eyes formulating while tugging on his hair. Your thighs clenched around his face, but his broad shoulders widened it to taste more of you. No use of pulling away when his grip on you was tight, so you could only cry out from the pleasure.

“Fuck!”

The ringing sounds in your off were going off, your throat drying up from moaning once another orgasm was about to hit. Once the knot in you snapped, nothing could hold back your screams of pleasure whilst panting for air. Sensitive as he licked every remaining essence he caused, he smirked as he got up to unbuckle his jeans.

Oh, boy. He got quite a package behind his boxers.

Even while you were overly sensitive, you had to grasp it in your hands. He was yours, and you were his.

The way you clenched around his protected length, pausing to readjust yourself to the feeling. The foreplay deemed helpful, though the girth of him overwhelmed you. He stretched you out so good.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?” The stunned face you made was expected, still feeling worried that it may be too much.

Biting your lip, you moaned once everything felt bearable. “You can move, Jeno.”

None of you could track exactly how many rounds you went through. Even in the semi-public area, it didn’t hinder either of you. There’s that thrill, and surprisingly enough, you both shared the liking of it. Always switching the positions, you decided to call it quits after another sloppy round in missionary. Something seeing Jeno on top, fully submitting yourself to him, made you feel calm to be vulnerable. It’s really the trust you’ve established from the start, making you rely on humans again once you’ve let the past be.

Jeno brought out another blanket, initially meant for cuddling. It was still applicable though, curling your body into a spoon towards his racing chest. Music was no longer noise, the intimacy creeping back instead of lust this time. The afterglow of Jeno, sweaty and knackered as his legs sprawled under the sheet, was a sight for sore eyes. He’s always been handsome while on duty, but post-sex gave him an extra boost.

Plus there’s pride from the red marks courtesy of you on his chest, grazing over it softly.

Jeno chuckled softly at your smooth fingers, lifting them up to kiss them tenderly before kissing your lips again. Only humans were capable of and to love, but you’re some kind of an exception. Regardless of the magic from the plate, you’d be able to love too if it weren’t for your background.

There’s so much love Jeno wanted to offer you, even if he hasn’t said it out loud yet.

Perhaps one reason was because time was beginning to tick. Finals were a few weeks away, then the one-month long semestral break until a new semester kicks off. Time really flew by, and his bank account and heart expanded too. Enjoying the now was all he could think of doing, but those uncertainties bothered him.

The biggest would be where you and he would stand when his job ended.

Jeno was too absorbed in his internal debate, as portrayed by his eyes staring off in space and running his hand in his hair repeatedly. Something was disturbing him, and you’re concerned as to what it was.

“Jeno,” Around his arm, you tapped his chest to get him out of it. “What’s going on in your head?”

Jeno approached every obstacle he faces straightforwardly, not wanting to let him hold back. Rarely did he keep secrets, especially from you. Instead of hiding away, he voiced it out.

“(Y/N), will we work out?”

“What do you mean, Jeno?”

You’re so occupied in the present that thinking of the future was never in your field. Like him, you’re just enjoying being in the moment. Though after tonight, it’s making you wonder if there’s a future.

“Well,” He placed his hand on top of yours, affectionately observing you. “Times flies faster when you’re having fun, and well, the semester is ending.”

His last words crushed a part of your heart, remembering his initial plan. None of you expected your friendship to bloom into what it is now, but life was just full of surprises without a schedule. At the same time, none of you wouldn’t have it any other way.

It may have been a few months since you two committed to each other, but the spark was still strong. It wasn’t like a summer romance kind of feeling. Time was not a determinant of love either, which you were certain of it with Jeno. A lot more than Junmyeon.

It should’ve frightened you when you realized your love for Jeno, but it didn’t. Even if you didn’t age physically, your mindset did. You’ve learned to forgive your younger self, and through Jeno, you let your guard down completely. From that, you let love in. Platonic to your fellow art pieces, and all of the above to Jeno.

Throughout your relationship, you regained all confidence in yourself and everything you set your mind to.

“I wouldn’t want to worry too much about it if I were you.” Your body flipped to lie on your stomach, resting your head on your palm.

“Why shouldn’t I, angel?”

Gazing back at him, you left a velvety kiss on his lips to rest his thoughts. His hand wrapped your neck, deepening it. But you pulled away with a giggle, all too knowing of his secret intentions as his cock began to harden again. His eyes narrowed down and his lower lip stuck out at your attempt of being a tease.

But enough about sex, you wanted to address a point.

Lee Jeno was going to be the biggest risk you wanted to take and fight for, and no one should try to stop you.

“I’ll ask Circe for a potion. For me, for you, for us.”

If it weren’t for insistent questioning towards every art piece, who kept their mouths shut, only Circe herself banished him from his suffering. Her series of potions varied, and the one you requested years ago which you threw out was capable of turning any art piece into a living human. No potion of Circe ever failed, so you entrusted your life for the day you do drink it.

“Are you sure, angel?”

Jeno knew about that one specifically, and as great to hear that you never threw it out, he never put pressure on you. He wanted you to do whatever felt right, even if deep down, he wished you’d use it. He was only worried about how the flow of the entire museum would be disrupted.

Typical Jeno always looking out for you, but you saw right through his concern. Here you were, caressing his check as reassurance. With an honest smile,

“I’ve never been more certain with anything in my life here until you came, Lee Jeno.”

Jeno opened up more to his life outside the museum, telling all sorts of experiences not just his days as a university student. From his childhood, his family, his travels, heck you even want to meet his friends at this point!

Newly, he shared with you how the sunrise and sunset looked like in Seoul with much vivacity. It’s a luxury as a human to witness as day breaks and ends, so you could imagine by yourself how it would look like. Sure, you had drawings and all, but that was from the real (Y/N) (Y/L/N).

This version of you wanted to live more; that’s your greed now.

“You’ve never touched snow too, right?” Jeno, who had his arm wrapped around you, silently watched the first batch of snow from inside.

“Yup, that’s the thing when you’re imprisoned in this place.” You sulked by his side, earning a chuckle from him who pulled you in closer.

“Don’t tell me now that you despise this place.”

“I don’t, but it hinders me to experience new things. The whole pattern of being awake at night by a plate gets tiring, Jeno.”

All Jeno would do when you’re frustrated was placing your head on his shoulder, listening as you talk.

“I know, angel. But it won’t be long until you leave this place with me, right?”

“You know it!” You interlocked your hands with him, eyes trained at every falling snowflake.

Sometimes, moments in silence with Jeno were all you needed for the night. Being within each other’s presence, focusing or admiring something from afar, it was all the peace you’ve needed from the bustling art pieces.

This week was the last of the semester, and Jeno’s off duty for tonight to focus on his exams. You’ll see him tomorrow night, which was his last shift ever, and also yours too.

Perhaps the biggest milestone you’re committing to without any regrets.

However, it took an unnecessary conversation you accidentally eavesdropped on to rock your decision.

You needed more ink after running out mid-way of sketching the sculptures as a secret parting gift. Before you could take a single step inside your exhibit room, a series of voices were full-on arguing. Booming back and forth, you peeped your ear out whilst hiding against the door.

“Athena, how dare you did to her?! She’s done so well from moving on from it, falling in love even! And now you’re telling me this?!” The distinct voice of Princess Diana, who spoke sweetly most of the time, boomed towards the Greek god. “You’re heartless.”

“I did what I had to do for the sake of this place, Diana!” Athena raised her voice, the lightning in her hands holding back from lashing out. She hated it when anyone argued with her, especially when she does things according to what she believed was necessary. Out of everyone, she had more leadership. “She had to know that her place is here as a wax figure, not outside. Talking Junmyeon out of it was for the best, plus it’s ideal when he drank the potion of memory loss from Circe.”

“But it tore her apart when he left her, and it’s going to tear her again if you do the same with Jeno.”

“How else are you going to approach the situation then, Diana? Those two have broken the highest golden rule, so they need to wake up.”

Right when she celebrated within herself for healing, hearing the unbearable revelation behind the past devastated you. This whole time, she internally blamed herself for being ageless and lashed out at others. The scary past barged back in, and you couldn’t handle it anymore.

Somewhere in the corner, you wept without a trace. You could care less about Athena’s opinions, but you found yourself agreeing to some of her words. You had a role to fulfill, and leaving that behind would be selfish and it could make the museum go topsy-turvy. As painful for Junmyeon to leave you, it was because the truth hurts. Nothing could change it, even if Circe could be your solution because it’ll leave a lot of questions. You didn’t want Jeno to be seen as a suspect.

Oh, Jeno.

There’s nothing wrong with falling in love either, you didn’t intend it to happen. But it becomes unfair when it compromises with your purpose, and that’s not how you are. You’ll always remember Jeno as your biggest risk, though it’s time to end things. Treacherous as it was to accept for you, risk-takers have boundaries too.

Fast forward, on the night of Jeno’s last shift, you’ve cherished every second with him. Playing around, chatting with other art pieces, kissing in private, you made it count. Before dawn broke, that’s where you chose to come clean by the garden, your sacred place. Not even your self-reassurance could prepare you to witness the hurt and confusion Jeno felt.

“You’re a mortal, and you still get to choose your path. Mine is already predetermined here as a wax copy of a historical figure.” You advised as you held both his hands, your voice shaking at the reality.

A few days ago, you were beaming with exhilaration at a new journey but now you’ve permanently backed out. Jeno couldn’t comprehend, and as much as he tried, he couldn’t. A life without you by his side would be empty and dull. “Even so, there are things about you that the original person didn’t have.”

Arguing with him wasn’t your favorite, and it’ll leave the two of you in a bad mood. But there is no way to negotiate this; you’ve already made up your mind. “We must end this, Jeno. You need someone who can grow old with you, and I can’t be that person for you.”

“But we can make it work!” His hands gripped on your slumped shoulders, whilst your face avoiding his to spare yourself from the heartache. “There’s still Circe.”

“I know, but recently, I found out that she’s an indirect cause of my misery.” Pulling away from his touch, you belted with frustration. “I cannot do this anymore, Jeno.”

You’ve always fought for whatever you wanted in life, and Jeno knew he was one of them if it weren’t for you telling him that. So he did the same, thinking of ways to make you feel whole. Now, he couldn’t tolerate the sudden crumbling of his heart from your outburst, and all he wanted to know was why you felt this way. How could he help you?

You don’t keep secrets from Jeno, but the truth behind your harsh actions cannot be revealed for the sake of the museum. Plus, you didn’t want him to despise this place he admired. Causing him pain wasn’t on your list, but keeping him safe was. It may be shown differently and he may not understand it now, but over time, he will.

“Jeno, you’ll find someone better out there. Someone with their whole life ahead of them, who’ll love you for everything that makes you who you are.” Repetitive punches in your guts urged you to barf at your half-lie, but you held it in.

“Why are you pushing me away? What happened to taking risks, (Y/N)?” Jeno interrogated, taking your hands in his hands again. They unconventionally quivered, like his lips. Jeno has never cried in front of anyone, not even when he was younger. Though for you, he just might. “Am I not worth it for you?”

Dear heavens, he was wrong. You internally screamed that, but you can’t let your selfishness seize the night. As Athena said, you had to wake up from your dream. “Committing to you was my biggest risk of them all, Jeno. Everything else that went along with it, I don’t regret it one bit. But time’s really up for us, and we must resume our normal duties.”

“I can’t lose you, (Y/N).”

“You never will, Jeno.”

He crouched lower to meet your height, his finger moving your head so you’d look at him back. Weakly enough, you did. “I want you to be a part of my normal life, angel.”

“I’ll always be here, you know. I’ll be standing in my usual spot upstairs, and you can drop by whenever you can.” You pressed your lips, lifting your head to avoid incoming tears. Meanwhile, he began shedding a few. You’ve hurt him big time, and you’ll never forgive yourself for this. “I still have one wish, right?”

Jeno’s sorrow was beyond his capacity, leaning his forehead against yours to kiss it. No matter what he could say or do, he already knew it won’t be effective. You’re affirmative in your choices, yet he still wanted to challenge it. All he wanted to know was why you’re doing this.

“Let me walk you one last time to your section.”

The black night sky had remnants of blue, motioning that dawn was approaching. Other figures gave their goodbyes to Jeno earlier, cleaning up their areas before they pose. Though none of them anticipated such a cold atmosphere between you two, they could only spy on what was bound to happen.

“My last wish is for you to let me go, Jeno.” You avowed, blinking your eyes with faux positivity. Your hands patted his blazer so it wouldn’t crease. “I already have a role to fulfill here, and you’re on the way to yours, future architect.”

“I love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Only tonight did he muster his courage to finally admit it to you after giving himself more time to analyze it. Timing was always crucial, and the badness of it showed.

Deep in your heart, you resonated the feeling. But it’ll make things more complicated, and it was the final thing you’ve wanted to occur. Someone had to be the strong one, and now, it should be you. With one more compassionate kiss on his lips, you stepped inside your section and readied your position.

“Goodbye, Lee Jeno.”

The sunshine brightened the room, and you’ve frozen to slumber again.

All Jeno could do was drop on his knees, sobbing over your rash actions. Unknown to him, a single tear left your eye as you posed.

Regardless of what status you were in, the pain of it all remained.

Jeno spent most of his semestral break with his friends to travel or whatnot, trying to forget it all. Even if he aced all his finals, his efforts felt like nothing if he never had you by his side to celebrate.

The sting over his short-lived romance with you never diminished the slightest, no one whom he could express his pain about it to especially when Renjun drank the memory wipe potion that Athena initially left for Jeno by his desk.

Forget it all, and live a peaceful life. You have so much potential, my mentee.

- Athena

Perhaps this was the same thing Junmyeon drank all those years ago, but unlike him, he didn’t have the guts to. He still wanted another chance.

So every day since the new semester began, he spent every afternoon break at your section. He’ll be seated by the bench, doing his assignments and talking about his day while sometimes stealing a glance of your figure. Some habits don’t change.

He never got sick of the same smile you exemplified, falling even more for you. He’ll often wonder what you’ve been up to.

What are your new sketches?

Are you taking care of Mochi well?

Have you apologized to Sanghoon yet?

Speaking of him, he surprisingly scooted over to Jeno’s side. This was the first time Jeno met the man, and politely enough greeted him. Sanghoon interviewed the boy, asking all sorts of questions that Jeno had every answer to. The biggest change that Sanghoon noticed since he left was your personality. You no longer bite, but treat everyone kindly without bias. You’re always active to help him out in cleaning the lobby, and you don’t go easily defensive.

Once he found out that Jeno was the reason for that, he was overjoyed at the start and wanted to meet him some way. You were a tough cookie, but now you relaxed. That was all that mattered to him, hoping to know more about him from you. That was until Diana stepped in and told him everything that happened. Mostly, the bad.

Playfulness eventually bore love. The last time you fell in love was in the 80s and Junmyeon pushed you away, he recalled. This time, you’re pushing Jeno away because you simply agreed with Athena’s points.

This wasn’t right, but it wasn’t his place to interfere.

But then again, he finally caught Jeno for the first time today and this time, he was open to hearing his side of the story. Lessen his misery too.

“No matter how stubborn she is, she loves you.” He advised him, bringing out one of your full sketchbooks. As Jeno opened it, the majority of the portraits were him. Sleeping, smiling, laughing, you drew him from every minor detail you could spot like the mole near his eye and his crescent eyes.

A handsome face I would never get sick until the end of time. Someone I want to wake up to every day in the morning if it weren’t for that plate.

- (Y/N)

Towards the end, a sketch of a house unfolded. The interior was a fusion of modernity and old royal design due to its white walls, wide space, and the placing of less furniture, plus an open backyard. There’s another tiny comment on the side from you.

I was right. Joining our varying designs together is pretty. Maybe Jeno and I could live in a house like this one day.

- (Y/N)

If you loved him so much, why did you let him go then when you had all these plans with him? Even if he tried to understand, he just didn’t.

“Don’t give up just yet when she told you to.”

“Are you just saying this or something?”

“Well, Princess Diana passed this message on but after everything, I believe that she’s right.” Sanghoon gave his opinion, but Jeno was reluctant to accept it.

“I never got a proper explanation why she suddenly changed her mind, Sanghoon.” He ranted, raking his hand through his hair from puzzlement. “Did I do something wrong?”

Sanghoon pitied him, having the upper hand and questioning himself whether to reveal the truth. However, since this boy took the job, he’s succumbed to secrecy. Without any transparency, it could drive someone mad. He’s too young for that, so Sanghoon breathed in defeat and placed his hand on Jeno’s shoulder.

“Promise me you won’t be mad when I tell you because I was when I found out; almost screamed even.”

Jeno nodded, listening to whatever Sanghoon had to say.

Of all people, he never would’ve expected Athena to do such a brash thing. Someone he respected and trusted, only to betray him by doing something she believed was good for all. Except it wasn’t, and it ended up hurting you all these years. The woman he loved, now he’s a clearer understanding of why you did what you did. Yet, it can’t fix his excruciation.

Heartbroken was an understatement; he had no one to rely on. With Sanghoon, he finally had a proper breakdown. The older man could only comfort his quietly, picturing him like one of his sons going through a hard time in school. But if it involves the heart, it’ll take more time to recover.

“You’re always the one adjusting, Jeno. But I think this time, you’re the one who needs space.”

A Year and a Half Later

“Jeno Lee!!!” Jaemin roughly wallowed his best friend in a hug when he arrived in their dorm room for the first time in a long time. “You dyed your hair blonde again!”

Renjun, who was behind the two of them, only rolled his eyes as he helped carry Jeno’s bags. “God damn it, Jaemin! You’re supposed to be helping me first!”

“I know, but give me a few seconds! I’m just happy our group is back together!”

Jeno laughed at his friends’ annoying yet silly dynamics, giddy to be back home. For a year, Jeno spent his 3rd year of university in Rome, Italy after one of his professors brought up to him about a scholarship program there for his course. At the time where he needed a change of scenery, he sent his application form and got interviewed.

Acing it, he had the opportunity to fly across the world to study and travel. His English skills surely improved, even picking up Italian words along the way due to a required class for it. He studied the history of different locations and how they were built.

He also went on field trips almost every day if it weren’t for the Italian students assigned to tour him around, academic and non-academic. Nights he spent on drinking wine on the rooftop of his dorm with them, screaming his complaints in the world with them.

It didn’t hit him that his stay was reaching its end until he submitted his final plate. His goodbye party didn’t even feel like one, but a see you later in the next few years after he becomes a licensed architect with money. His goal of it felt more realistic, motivating him to excel in his remaining years in university.

After unpacking half of his things, he was reminded of an email from one of the head professors, who requested another copy of his confidential documents from the Italian university he went to as soon as he’s back on campus.

He raced to the department with a folder of them and luckily encountered the said professor. Handing it to him, this professor questioned how he was and what experiences he gained from the trip. With excitement, Jeno spoke all sorts of tales from his adventures, highlighting how determined he was now to be an architect.

“That’s great to hear, Jeno!” He celebrated, checking on his watch, and widened his eyes. Frantic at his colliding schedules, he asked Jeno for a favor. It turned out that at the same time as his emergency meeting, he’s supposed to tour the new transferee student around campus.

“Only if you have time, Jeno! I could always ask another student, plus you just came back and need rest.”

“It’s not like I left for a decade, sir. No worries, I’ll do it.”

“Oh, bless your soul.” He put his hands together in prayer position, bowing back and forth with gratitude. “Wait, she’s right outside! Go ahead and introduce yourself.”

Jeno nodded, exiting right through the department doors. This girl had her back turned, inspecting her surroundings. She wore a black and white tweed blazer that matched with her skirt, black high heeled boots, and a black handbag. She must be a foreigner, Jeno thought.

“Excuse me, are you the transferee in the department of Architecture?”

Jeno didn’t brace himself for the surprise he’d face once this girl reacted to him calling her out. Her face was one he could never forget, no matter how many times he told himself to. The same face he convinced his heart to stop beating for, yet it lied.

This radiant face was none other than yours.

Jeno almost dropped his phone. He tried his best to hold on to your promise, but he failed. It was the main reason he studied abroad; to forget and focus on his career path. So the least thing he could’ve done was to study hard for his dream career.

Just a glimpse of you projected back every single memory you’ve had together. Beautiful yet heart-wrenching, he kept his emotions to himself.

You even wore the rose necklace he got you. Could it be?

“It’s been a while, Lee Jeno.” You took the metaphorical scissors to cut the tension, trying to contain the crushing feelings. The faculty center was a public place, yet it’s like the two of you were on the main stage.

“Do you remember me?” Astounded, you nodded. Every single detail.

Jeno could’ve ran away, but didn’t. He could’ve left you hanging, but didn’t. He can no longer count how many times you’ve appeared in his dreams, only to be disappointed when morning comes to not have you in his arms. He took one step closer, taking his time.

“How do you know me?”

“You’re the boy whom I helped with his assignment, argued with me over Romeo and Juliet,” You mimicked his move, making you one step nearer to him. “And most of all, the boy I once gave my entire heart to.”

Another step, leaving a few inches between the two of you. His heart palpitated without caffeine. What if he was napping in his dorm again? It was all surreal. “Is it really you, (Y/N)?”

Hearing your name from his lips lowered your guard, you pleased him with a hopeful grin. “I’d be dust by now if I didn’t drink Circe’s potion, right?”

That’s where Jeno unchained himself from his emotions. He engulfed in a warm hug, one that has no plans to let go when his chin planted on your shoulder. You returned the gesture, dropping all your worries away along with your bag and papers as your arms snaked through his neck.

You knew you had to part ways for a while after everything, though you were unsure how he’d feel about it. You recalled every time he visited you after his job ended up until his intense chat with Sanghoon, where he bawled his heart out. You couldn’t take it anymore after trying to stay strong, crying as soon as you woke up that night.

All your fellow figures could do was soothe you down like before to the best of their abilities, yet this time, it was unsuccessful. You’re filled with misery, realizing later how much of a big mistake you’ve made.

You’ve isolated yourself again for a while, but less rudeness and more silence. It was until Circe visited you. She doesn’t like getting involved with drama, though now was different. She, alongside Hera and Aphrodite, couldn’t withstand you tolerating the heartbreak again. So they went behind Athena’s back on this one time and created a potion together just for you. But with a compromise.

“This potion can turn you into a human. However, there’s only a 10% chance you’ll regain all your memories from this place.”

“So I’ll forget everyone and him?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” You’re about to shoo her away, not in the mood to do something drastic as that. But Circe grabbed your arm again. “I strongly believe that if you and he meant to be, then there will come a time these past memories will suddenly surge at you.”

“Must I need to forget to live properly?”

You’re stubborn, and Circe expected it. “You’ve broken so many golden rules, (Y/N), so it must be done. I’ve gone against Athena for this potion, and rarely have I done that. So rather than wallowing up in misery, you should focus on yourself. Do what makes you happy because this place is trapping you from every great thing out there.”

Those were the word that the actual (Y/N) (Y/L/N) lived by, nevertheless, you’re unique from her. You built a separate identity from her. “But Jeno-”

“At the right time, (Y/N). Pull yourself together and do all the things you’ve dreamt of before he came into the picture. I just know he loves you that much, and that he will wait for you.”

That same night, you gathered all your senses and drank it. The transition was fast as lightning speed, and behold, you were like a new person. You’re back in London, with a family that closely resembled your former one; only 3 older siblings, making you the youngest. You also had a new set of memories, from childhood until your adult years.

From (Y/N) (Y/L/N), you became (Y/N) Edwards.

It took one drunken night out with your university friends for the unlikely surge of old memories to speedily hit through your intoxicated state. Way beyond a dream, you’ve dropped your shot glass and broke down in the bathroom of your dorm room. You left something unaccomplished, and you had to do something before it’s too late.

Thus, you rushed to Seoul thanks to your parents’ support as they agreed that exploring outside your home country was a great experience. The only excuse you gave to your friends for the sudden transfer was you finding a new calling.

Sure, studying abroad was an exciting thing but you’re more determined to reunite with him. Even if this encounter was unforeseen, it was bound to happen one day. It so turned out that you had the same major in your former university and this new one.

Head to toe, you remembered everything.

“I’m so sorry I took so long.” You cradled your head on his chest, unaware of how your new life left Jeno so troubled.

“That doesn’t matter anymore.” Jeno tightened his grip, scared of releasing you again. Those two years felt like a breath of fresh air and a punch in the gut. “I tried to live up to your last wish, but I really can’t.”

“I want to take that wish back, Jeno. I wasn’t thinking right and only ended putting you through so much.”

“Oh, angel. I slowly understood why you did it.” Before he got too fragile, he softened his grip on you and showed his face again to you. He wanted a better look at his pretty girl, his fingers brushing strands of your hair behind your ear. Heart-fluttering, you bit your bottom lip. “What would you want to wish for instead?”

“Instead of you letting me go, I wish you could take me back and love me again. I can’t undo the past, but I’d still like to think I’ve tried my best.” That was the only wish you could ever think of. As huge as it was, it was something he may not accept. Yet you gave it a go, risking it all. “I don’t deserve you at all, Jeno.”

“Don’t say that, (Y/N).” One of his hands grabbed yours, putting it on his cheek. Cupping it, “I’ve never stopped loving you, you know.”

Oh, love. An all-too familiar emotion that either makes or breaks you. Of all the times you could’ve said those words, you held back, especially that wretched night you two broke it off. Although you showed it, being able to say it to someone felt more empowering.

This was finally the chance you’ve unconsciously waited for.

“I’m stupid for not saying this sooner.”

“What is it?”

With intimate eye contact, you drowned in the comfort of his brown orbs. You trusted him then, and you trusted him now. “I love you, Lee Jeno.”

Secretly, Jeno anticipated for the day you’d say those meaningful 3 words. Just like you, he showed more affection through actions than words. He only admitted when he lost you, and never would he do the same mistake again. If he felt that the love was strongly present, he will say it aloud.

“I love you still, (Y/N).” His arm around your waist tugged you in further. “I loved you as (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and I will continue to love you as (Y/N) Edwards.”

He peeked on your ID earlier, but regardless, he stood by his truth. You’re still the same (Y/N).

Finally, he closed the limited space between your lips. The memories of your past romance replayed in sync of every touching kiss, popping one leg up like in the movies. The Princess Diaries, specifically. Like in the museum from your unbearable parting, one warm tear freed itself down your cheek.

The sweetness of being reunited with you again beat the torturous wait of Jeno. Time really made your hearts grow fonder. As everyone said, if the love between two people is real, then it’ll find its way back to each other.

The world must be on your side too because no professor called you two out on your public display of affection. Jeno pecked your lips one time before stepping away, picking up the things you dropped.

“Now come on, I have to tour you around as instructed.”

You stomped on your feet, rolling your eyes from being left hanging. He’s still the same tease from before. “After that kiss though, I would’ve thought we could reschedule it.”

“No can do, Edwards.” Passing over your things, he wrapped one arm around you as he escorted you out of the building. The university was huge, with more buildings and green fields surrounded everywhere. “Left or right? There are a lot of places you missed out on all those years.”

“Point taken. Then you lead the way, my love.”

346 notes · View notes

bcdwhcre · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! Can you possibly do a Mikasa x fem reader where they've been dating and during the Uprising arc in the crystal cave the reader gets hurt Mikasa just gets pissed 😂 Then after the battle some sweet comfort and fluff? Also the others were shocked by Mikasa's behavior cause they didn't know she was dating anyone

“Rage,” Mikasa x FemReader

Summary: where you ended up getting hurt during the mission to rescue Eren and your secret girlfriend Mikasa shows real emotion about the situation.

Warnings: none! season 3 Mikasa

The team surrounded Levi as they hovered over the secret door that led down to the cave where they assumed Eren and Historia were in. He had went over the plan again, looking down at the barrels the team had put together to throw down there.

“Stay sharp, one mistake can get you killed.” Levi warned before opening up the trap door and everyone threw the barrels in.

Once Sasha had shot the barrels with some flame arrows, the smoke surrounded the lower area of the cave. Then it was the rest of the teams turn to fly in using their gear.

You were nervous, you’ve been nervous since before you even stepped into this but Mikasa, before this mission started, had tried to reassure you endlessly about how she would look after you and protect you if needed but she knew how much of a strong person you were and how you could easily get this done, she had full confidence in you.

The relationship between you and Mikasa was definitely more than just friends. When you first met her when the both of you joined the boot camp at the same time, you two became close from how much you had in common. You both ended up being orphans and taken in by someone else, you both shared a lot and it eventually turned into a secret affair that no one really knew about.

It was then on that Mikasa had gotten very over protective with you and even then, the scouts never thought about it for too long, they thought of it as just Mikasa being over protective with her friends like Eren and Armin.

Your thoughts had moved back onto the mission, it started off great and in the teams favor until the enemies had caught on to what they were doing and how they were doing it and you ended up getting caught above the smoke after slicing someone’s throat open.

The enemy was quick to lunge at you, their blade aiming towards you and surprisingly you dodged just enough that it didn’t strike the area he was aiming for but it did slice your side quite severely.

You had fallen down under the smoke, the ground knocking you out cold and Mikasa had noticed right away.

“Y/N!” She shouted below to you when she noticed your body falling to the ground.

Her anger boiled inside of her and she was quick to spin around towards the guy who had done the damage to you and instantly killed him without hesitation.

After that, the enemy team had backed away and retreated, giving Mikasa time to drop to the ground and go to where you laid. Your eyes had opened up, the pain you felt shooting through your side was like it was on fire.

She quickly took off her jacket and pushed the material down on your wound to put pressure on the bleeding, her eyes connecting with yours and you gave a weak smile, just to somewhat reassure her that you were okay.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve been through worse.” You joked, making Mikasa crack a smile down to you.

“Shut up, this cut is pretty bad, Y/N.” She admitted, pain written all over her face as she took a look down at the cut on your side.

“I’ll be fine, Mikasa. I’m not leaving you that easily.”

All the scouts had surrounded you, their eyes trained on Mikasa as she was actually showing real emotion which they never seen off of her except rage. Levi had leaned down to lift the jacket and look at the slice on your side, cursing under his breath.

“You two, take her out of here quickly, the rest will go through with the mission.” He ordered and Armin quickly reached down to help you up off your feet which only worsened the pain.

“Take care of her, please. Don’t let her die.” Mikasa stared at Armin and he nodded his head as he and another cadet helped carry you towards an exit.

“Since when are you so caring for someone?” Jean looked down at Mikasa and she gave him a plain look as he teased her.

“My relationship with her is none of your concern, Jean.”

“Your relationship? So I’m assuming more than friends then?” He chuckled, stopping once he seen the deadly look on her face.

“Now isn’t the time to chat about secret affairs, we need to get Eren and Historia out of here.” Levi looked back at the cadets then around the area to try to come up with some plan until the cave started to give in, everything shaking and crumbling around them.

After the collected Eren and Historia, they finally made it out after the large titan had moved towards the wall. Mikasa didnt hesitate to come to where you were, laying in the carriage as the horses rode back to the wall where the titan was heading.

Everything was a blur to you until you were in a bed stitched and wrapped up perfectly fine. Mikasa was sitting beside the bed with her head on the mattress as she slept, little did you know the mission was already done and the titan that came was long dead.

Your fingers had gently traced through her hair, sighing under your breath feeling guilty for being reckless to let yourself get sliced up even if your attention was away for a second.

Mikasa was quick to wake up when she felt your hand, her eyes instantly moving up to yours and you gave her a smile before brushing her hair back. She leaned over without a word, the sudden impact of her lips on yours had completely caught you off guard but you weren’t complaining.

“You’ve been asleep forever.” She huffed out when she pulled back from your mouth and you leaned forward to wrap your arms around her in a tight hug, ignoring the pain in your side.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled into her shoulder and she kept her grip on you, being careful to not hurt you in anyway as she ran her hand up and down your back, comforting you.

“Don’t be, it wasn’t your fault.” Mikasa had kissed the top of your head, it was nice to see her so comforting and loving but it was also shocking to see it as well.

It took a lot for her to be touchy like this, she was never one to show a lot of emotions but she did sometimes through her actions but you were the opposite, you always gave her affection.

that’s what made Mikasa fall for you more, the affection she was receiving from you was definitely something she didn’t think she would need until she met you.

I tried to make this as lovey as possible, hope it turned out okaaaay.

• Main Masterlist •

• AOT Masterlist •

#mikasa ackerman #mikasa aot #mikasa headcanons #Mikasa x reader #Mikasa imagines #Mikasa imagine #Mikasa Ackerman x reader #Mikasa Ackerman imagines #aot headcanons #aot imagines #aot imagine

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br-disaster · 4 years ago

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Nie Huaisang’s outfits appreciation post

After the terrible loss of our second best dressed cultivator and fashion icon Nie Mingjue, the cultivation world now lacks one of it’s pillars. But little did they know, our fashion king had a disciple, someone capable of honoring his legacy in many ways.

While we all grief, a new icon rises.

And I’m here to prove that Nie Huaisang deserves his late brother’s title not only because Mingjue’s no longer serving looks -may his fashionable soul rest in peace-, but because Huaisang has always been a stylish icon on his own.

I mean, this look right here is enough proof:

Huaisang has quite a lot of robes, and they are all so different, I decided to compile them chronologically:

1. the “assigned fashionable at birth”one

Look at this small bean with his cream-colored robes. Whoever chose this color for him did a great job, though it’s a bit weird that they looked at baby Mingjue and went “all you’ll wear is dark gray from now on” and then Huaisang was born and “cream it is!” And we don’t really see anybody else from the Nie sect wearing this color, I wonder if it has anything to do with Huaisang’s mom, or if it’s just for the dark\light color contrast, the two young masters can’t possibly wear the same colors, it would ruin the aesthetic.

It looks just like his main-possibly-stay-at-home-robes, like he just really loved this especific set and had a lot of other robes that looked just the same growing up.

Really small, really cute, makes you want to carry him around saying: look at my baby, he’s so stylish!

2. the “good old Gusu days” one

This is like a uniform, there’s nothing really special about it. But I’d like to point out two things:

One: the silver embroidery on the shoulders and the silver on his waist belt matches the pristine white of his robes really well.

Two: look how wide his shouders look, there you go, Huaisang, keeping the Nie shoulder game strong!

3. The “it’s called fashion, dage” one

Cream-colored again! It embodies teen!Huaisang’s aesthetic perfectly: it’s expensive, it’s pretty, it looks comfortable, but it’s minimalistic.

I mean, I have no idea if it is actually expensive, but it surely looks expensive.

It has no discernable patterns, but the fabric just looks so good, look at the texture. It looks warm and heavy (rip Ji Li). And it’s pleated, look at him! Everything about this one screams rich-carefree-spoiled-delicate-pretty-gongzi.

And well, we see him strolling around and getting in trouble instead of going straight home in this robes, then on Fatal Journey we see him painting landscapes instead of practicing and claiming he doesn’t want to become the Nie sect leader in this very set of robes. Maybe he has indeed been wearing similar robes since his childhood and wants to, you know, go back to when things were as simple as taking the long way home coming back from Gusu.

4. the “didn’t really engage on the war but needed to look good regardless” one

This one is so pretty, y’all. It’s silver and white and gray, the brothers are matching with their disciples’ robes, you won’t find a Sect with a superior fashion sense.

I can totally understand why he didn’t change to some post-Sunshot robes. Imagine looking this good at home, with none of your friends or disciples or brother to see you. Nope. This robes belong to a banquet, even one as unpleasing and akward as this one.

(They technically saw him, since he wore the same robes while they were planning the whole Sunshot thing, but no one was paying attention to it, right? And you can’t let such a nice look go to waste)

One of my favorites, for sure. It even matches his fan. It’s peak aesthetic.

5. the “I’m only here for the food and the drama” one

I didn’t really like this one at first. It looked kinda futuristic in my head, you know? It’s probably just the really structured fabric and the color, but It was a bit too much.

But now, looking at it as I take screenshots, I like them. It’s bold and fierce and remember the shoulder accessories being a code for battle? Well, I doubt Huaisang shot a single arrow that day, but he was supposed to be competing, so it makes a lot of sense that he’s dressed like this while his brother is wearing his pretty, dark yet lighter civillian robes to watch him.

He’s even wearing epaulettes (well, I trust that that’s the name) that matches the ones Mingjue wore with his Sunshot robes! Are they the same pair? Did he borrow it? Or do they secretly comission the same robes and accessories and wear them on alternate occasions?

These are the most battle-coded (and at the same time is not battle-coded at all, it’s too ostentatious) robes we see him wearing until now, and he is representing his sect at the hunt, he has to look like a proper heir that is capable of fighting, whether he likes it or not - and judging by how unenthusiastic he was during the opening shoot-the-wen-prisioners ceremony, I’d say he was not enjoying it at all-.

But it’s such a cool look, I really like it now.

6. the “he will throw hands with a non-corporeal entity while giving his big brother all the love and understanding he deserves” one

This may look like the same robes we usually wears at home, but they lack the pleated part and I don’t think his long sleeves would fit inside his wirst thingy, which I now know it’s called a vambrace or a bracer, they were quite wide sleeves.

Anyway, we again have his minimalistic aesthetic. No patterns, the only addition being the outer robe that realy looks like the one Mingjue wears with his stay-at-home robes, except with no sleeves; and the bracers\vambraces.

But look how different this looks in comparison with the previous one; he wasn’t fighting shit in those pompous silver robes, but he was so determined here, ready to face anything. This is the difference between a battle-coded look and a battle-codded Huaisang.

It’s practical, it’s pretty, looks comfortable and it’s perfect for scolding your older brother then comforting him because he gets emotional when people argue with him, ok?

Huaisang is the best younger brother, fight me

8.the “sad, sad” one

I’ll just say that the inner robes are really similar to the one Mingjue wears with his stay-at-home robes, though they are not the same. Perhaps my theory that they did comission a lot of similar itens is correct after all.

I don’t think this look is particularly good, and the context surely doesn’t help at all, but it’s interesting to see him in gray and black.

Overall, I hate it here.

9. the “somehow even worse” one

Look, if I had to compile all his outfits, I had to include this one. But there’s nothing to say about it except just looking at him wearing it makes me sad.

10. the “you didn’t see that coming, did you?” one

This one here is a trick, ok? At this point of the story we have no idea of what’s going on and if this misterious person is important or not; all we know is that he is quite fond of patterns and dark clothing. And that he has some money.

But damn, once we find out who this is, it instantly becomes something else entirely.

It’s so fucking DARK!! It’s Wei Wuxian’s kind of dark, it’s crazy to think our boy Huaisang, who’s been wearing light grays, white and cream all his life would come up with something like that. It doesn’t even look Nie, and that’s probably what he was going for, y’know, so no one could recognize him and all of that.

But jesus, this look is just wow. It’s perfect for a scheming mastermind, even though we don’t really know about it yet. The scales pattern is really nice and I love when he wears this sort of robe, with the fitted sleeves and the extra fabric at the shoulders. The flame (I think) pattern is nice too, though it’s a bit too much here, just a bit. But he seems to like this pattern a lot, so let him have it

And the craziest part is: we know these robes. And i’ve seen a couple of posts about them, it’s the same inner robe he wore at the Phoenix Mountain night hunt competition, almost 16 years ago.

Like what are these robes made of??

11. the “sneaky, sneaky” one

The famous Nie pattern, am I right?

I love all theories about this one and as I took the screenshots, I noticed how his inner robe is the same as robe number 8. Huaisang says no to excessive buying, please reuse your clothes!

I’m particularly fond of the theory that Nie Mingjue comissioned robes for both his didi and his boyfriend Xichen, but I can accept that Huaisang just inherited his brother’s robes, though the flame pattern (once again proving we won’t guess Huaisang is behind everything not even after seeing him wearing the same patterns as in episode one twice) at the bottom is definetly a Huaisang thing.

I really like how heavy it looks, and the black thin stripe.We know it’s the same pattern as Xichen’s robe but seeing it combined with the back and light gray of the Nies really gives it a distinct identity.

12. the “and the oscar goes to...” one

Look at him, all innocent-looking placing all the chess pieces on their right places. Gotta love director Nie. And it makes so much sense that he would wear something as light as this robes for this moment. He wore light colors for most of his youth, when he was carefree and naive and harmless; he cultivated a reputation of being dependent, fearful and stupid even. In this moment, more than ever, he needs people to believe this is exactly who he is, and what’s the best way of doing it?

Yes, reminding them of your old self. All he does is pretend and lie while he cries and faints. A director and an actor too!

Throw yourself at your brother’s sworn brothers trying to look harmless while annoying the hell out of them? check.

Faint conveniently as your brother’s murderer lies at your face about killing said brother because even you have limits and you can’t watch that fuckery and not want to murder him right there? check.

Pretend to be stupid while conducting the protagonist and pretty much everybody else to ask the right questions and therefore unmask the terrible things your nemesis did? also check.

And the robes are really pretty, look at the texture at the bottom right!! Silver and white go really well together. Wide, wide sleeves and this heavy-looking fabric. Superb, really, one of my favorites again.

And look at him carrying his saber (which he probably left at Pier Lotus later)!

13. the “...and cut!” one

Look at these robes and tell me they don’t absolutely look like something Nie Mingjue would wear. You know he would.

And it’s such a contrast to his previous robes. The white and silver one for looking innocent and lost and funny; the dark gray to look like a serious sect leader who will endorse the accusations against his enemy (Ok, he did act confused and lost and innocent in these robes, but he also showed real shock and grief and sadness, he did show his true feelings too)

He’s honoring his brother here, he did it, he brought justice to him, he defeated his brother’s murderer. He spent years wanting and waiting for this moment, it’s only fair he would do so while looking so much like his beloved older brother.

I love everything about this look. The color palette is almost the same as the one robe his brother wore to the post-Sunshot campaign banquet. The dark,shining gray, the black, the thin bronze\golden stripe at the collar. Even that extra overlaid fabric at the bottom front of his robes is the same as Mingjue used to wear. Beautiful, really.

He would be really proud of you, I hope you know that, Huaisang.

14. the “I may or may not steal your chief cultivator status, watch out Wangji” one

I know he would never steal Wangji’s post, cql!NHS doesn’t even want it; but like, we deserved Chief cultivator!Huaisang, right? So it was worth the joke, I think.

The inner light gray robe yet AGAIN, I suspect this is his favorite inner robe.

We have some bold patterns here, so elegant. I really like when he wears this kind of outer robe, accentuating his shoulders, suits him really well, And this is such a Nie color palette, just like the previous one. In fact, Huaisang wears way more dark colors than we give him credit for. Especially after becoming sect leader.

Sleeve game on point too, really long. And it matches his fan as well.

Lovely look, I wish we could have seen more.

In conclusion:

King of versatility, resusing 16 year-old robes AND looking damn good while doing it! He looks good scheming, he looks good lying, he looks good fainting, he even looks good tricking people into stabbing other people!

Name a more iconic king, I’ll wait.

#this ended up more like meta than I intended #but Huaisang deserves all the praise #also it's super long #but he has many outfits ok #nie huaisang #nie brothers #cql #mdzs #i spent an unhealthy amount of time doing this #why? huaisang deserved a post too #same thing I said about the other post stands please tell me if I said something disrespectful

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captainsimagines · 3 years ago

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To Topple A Giant || Chapter Nine

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 9 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: strong language; use of a derogatory slur/racist language (not said by any main character); mentions of blood and injuries; angst!

Word Count: 11,200+

A/N: One more chapter after this - I should really stop labeling this as a mini-series considering it’s already over 100,000 total words lmao. Thank you for staying with me this long! I love you guys soooo much!!!

Utah Merry Hotel, January 2025, 2:09pm

“I’m being an ol’ sport, why can’t you?” You whine, stomping your feet as you trudged up the stairs to the hotel roof. “It’s our first serious stakeout in forever! I’m pretty sure Wanda shaved her legs for this.”

Steve shoots a flustered and unsettled look over his shoulder. He’s lugging the rifles and extra equipment on both his shoulders so you know he’s truly baffled because to even attempt a look over… well, that required real effort. He doesn’t answer, however; he continues upward.

Bucky and Clint are following close behind. They’re tired, huffing every few steps and grunting while doing so. Finally, Bucky whines and throws himself against the wall dramatically. “Remind me why we couldn’t just get Wanda and Sam to lift us up there?”

Steve readjusts one of the rifle straps while he replies, “Buck, I told you not to skip leg day.”

“I skip ‘everything’ day. I’m just now employed as a superhero, thank you very much. The serum should be enough.”

“Are we even close?” Clint asks and passes Bucky on a few steps. Bucky takes that as a challenge though and hoists himself more steps before giving up again.

You just watch in pure amusement. Makes you really proud that your thighs are stronger than theirs. “Just a few more flights.”

They both groan in unison. Steve has already rounded the next flight, no longer waiting on the three of you. It takes several more minutes until you kick open the roof door Steve had left slightly ajar. It’s cold outside, wind howling with icy droplets whipping through your hair. It’s only fifty stories up but it’s pretty high - you can see the tops of the trees, or branches really. It’s winter in Utah and most of the trees are naked and covered in snow. You hope Bucky and Clint, the dynamic duo no one saw coming, still have good aim in this wind after a year of vacation.

“Alright. Buck - Clint, set up over there. Y/N, you’re over there.”

“Aye Aye, Captain.”

You set up where Steve instructed. You’ve got a simple magnifier and some binoculars - you won’t have to do any shooting today, thank the Gods. Clint’s got his arrows and Bucky’s got his sniper. Steve’s waiting for a signal from Sam if need be - he won’t need to shoot today either.

“Wanda and Sam will let us know when the cars pass the barrier. The tech cannot, under any circumstances, pass through the gate right over there.” Steve points to the giant, black coated metal gate. There’s no one on duty. You made sure to evacuate the area and any staff before. The tech these goons are bringing in is all stolen Stark Tech. And according to Happy, strict instructions are to ‘blow it to Hell’.

“And if it does?” Bucky asks, grinning mischievously at Steve’s pointed look.

“What’d I just say?”

Bucky laughs and puts his hands up in surrender. “Damn, Stevie. Calm thyne tits.” He goes back to fiddling with his rifle. “Blow the tires before they reach the gates but after they pass the barrier. Got it.”

“Peter, you in position?” Steve asks and adjusts his earpiece.

You can hear Peter over your own mic. “Seatbelts look easy enough to break. I’m in position, I can easily pull them from the trucks.”

“Five minutes then.”

You all settle in. The cold has passed through the leather of your boots and your toes are paying the price. It makes you miss the rain of spring and the sprinkles of fall, when everything is drenched rather than frozen and your toes still have mobility. Your jacket is big enough but it scratches your neck every time you lean down to look through the magnifier. As the minutes tick by, you brave the cold and take it off. You’d rather conduct your part efficiently and without the constant distraction.

“It’s almost forty degrees out,” Steve mumbles beside you. He’s looking over the roof balcony and into the trees. He’s squints and refuses your offer of binoculars.

“So I get a sore throat.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Tony put a heater in all our suits. You should have worn yours.”

“My suit is half nano. It’s excessive for a stakeout.”

He huffs but you ignore him, choosing to look through the rejected binoculars instead. He shuffles, and then there’s a warm weight enveloping your shoulders. It’s his sweater, cotton and baby blue, and he lifts the hood to cover your cheeks and ears. Your stomach flip-flops.

“Uh, thank you,” you say and zip it closed.

Steve shrugs lightly, “Don’t mention it.”

So you don’t. He doesn’t look cold besides or he’s just really good at masking it. It’s quiet now; you can’t really hear the quiet mutters of Clint and Bucky enough to join in and to not mention the jacket is eating at you. You opt for a casual conversation instead while you wait.

“Soooo… how’d your date go last week?”

Steve clears his throat and turns to you, a forced grin on his face. “They, uh, they were sweet.”

“Sweet,” you repeat, nodding at nothing and cursing yourself for creating such an awkward moment. “Going on a second one?”

He sighs and his expression actually turns truthful. “No, don’t see that happening.”

For a second, you’re appalled. Who wouldn’t give Steve a second date? He’s an absolute catch and being a famous superhero wasn’t exactly a dealbreaker for many. Or maybe it was and Steve was blaming his alias once again for no fairytale ending. “Are you kidding? Who wouldn’t want you?”

The words leave your mouth too quickly to reel them back in. Steve’s cheeks turn pinker, both from your words and the chill, and he ducks his head low as he answers. “It’s my fault, really. They were sweet but I wasn’t paying much attention.”

“Mm, on your phone? Daydreaming? Were they a bore?”

Steve chuckles, “I pulled out my phone, like, once to answer a text but I was a proper gentleman!”

The tension is slowly melting and there’s a soft twinkle in his eye as he laughs. It’s been so long since he’s looked at you this way: on his own accord and not on order. “Bucky said they were, and I quote,” you lower your voice and look over at Bucky to make sure he’s distracted. “‘Cute as hell’.”

Steve gives Bucky a warm look. “Eh, it’s fine. Wasn’t the one.”

“The one,” you mock in a deep voice. “Who texted you that it was so important to ignore someone cute as hell?”

Steve hesitates and looks over the balcony as if wishing for an interruption. But the trucks aren’t near yet and Sam hasn’t given the signal. “Uh, it was Peter.”

“Oh, don’t tell him that. He’ll feel incredibly guilty if he ruined your chances at getting laid.”

Steve shoves your shoulder a bit harder than he intended and it makes you stumble back. He quickly catches you by the arm and holds you still, a sheepish smile painting his pink face. He mumbles a quick ‘sorry’, and goes back to lean over the railing. “It’s cool, he knew.”

You fake a surprised gasp, “Even worse!”

“He needed me to stop by the compound and I did. Really, it’s okay,” Steve assures and he’s speaking a little quicker. He fidgets with his thumbs and it looks like he wants to wrap up that portion of the conversation. But he looks over at you and sighs deeply, and he rolls his eyes as his upper lip tilts upward. “Ask.”

“What’d he want?” It makes your belly all warm to know he expects this enthusiasm from you.

“Wanted me around. Buck and Wanda were out getting dinner.”

“Yeah, but like, what for?”

He gives you a knowing smile, like you walked right into that trap. “You made dinner but Peter was too nice to say he didn’t enjoy it, so he texted me knowing I would like it. Knowing I had it before. He didn’t want there to be leftovers because then you’d be sad.”

You step back and shake your head like there’s a fly swarming around. It startles you. “You left your date… during dinner… to come to the compound to eat the dinner I made instead?”

“Don’t think too much about it.”

“How not?”

It’s five minutes when Sam calls it in. You groan in frustration and give Steve a look that says the conversation isn’t over.

There are four armored vehicles and the magnifier illuminates three bodies per car. The targets will be hit starting from the last to keep the explosions out of each driver’s line of sight.

“Target acquired,” Bucky mumbles and clicks off his safety. He closes one eye and settles comfortably as he awaits Steve’s signal.

Clint tugs back an arrow, “Same here, Cap.”

“Wanda, you ready?” Steve’s voice is lower when he’s focused. He looks over at you, your hand up with an index finger raised, and waits. Wanda answers that she’s ready and Sam counts it down. The first truck crosses the barrier, then the next, next, and finally the fourth and you drop your hand in a fast swipe.

“Fire! Go Parker!”

Bucky shoots the back tires of all four vehicles and Clint shoots his arrows to penetrate through the passenger doors. Peter works fast, webs slinging from side to side grabbing one passenger right after the other. Once the trucks are empty, Clint activates the arrows and you all prepare for the explosions. The fourth car catches flame first and Wanda contains the explosion perfectly, balling it up into a weak bundle of light and string. She does the same to the third and second, bundles extinguishing just as quickly as they burst. But the first car swings out of control on manual and the explosion is delayed.

“Clint?”

Clint leans over the balcony and squints, as if it would help. “I don’t know. It’s not going off.” He’s clicking the detonator repeatedly, holding it up for all of you to see.

“Wanda, the truck! The truck! Sam!” You scream as the truck crashes through the gate and hurls closer to the hotel. The commotion is enough for Bucky to pop out from his cover and the four of you watch in horror as the truck still doesn’t stop. Clint has stopped clicking the button, but it’s no use. The truck finally explodes in an outbreak of debris and electricity. The Stark Tech reacts poorly to the strain, electric gusts of smoke fire left and right and rattle the building. It feels like an earthquake, shaking the already weak foundations and old brick. Wanda catches the bottom to better contain it and tries desperately to smother it. But the shaking doesn’t stop and the corners of the roof are collapsing.

Steve leaps to grab and pull you away and just as quickly to catch Clint’s leg before he falls over the edge. Clint is thrown back rather harshly but Steve isn’t thinking about the abuse of strength right now - no, not while Bucky slips and hangs on to a rogue pipe. Steve crawls and latches onto his hand before the pipe gives way. He yells as he tugs Bucky up with only one arm, the other having to hold onto undisturbed brick. He won't let Bucky fall. Not again.

Bucky throws his leg up and over solid ground, and you go to help Steve pull him up. Bucky’s heavy and his metal hand pinches your skin bad but he’s safe. Wanda struggles to contain the electricity but she’s succeeding. The rumbling slows until nothing moves anymore. You collapse back in exhaustion.

“Well, that didn’t go as planned,” Bucky gasps as he rubs his face.

“Is Wanda okay?” You mumble more to yourself and struggle to pull yourself back up. But the sudden weight of your body proves too much for the edge and in a horrible wave, you’re falling through. You practically file your nails as you try to latch onto falling brick.

“No!” You feel the scratch of someone’s fingers along your forearm and soon they’re digging into your skin, and it hurts but you figure it’s better than splitting your skull open. Pebbles of concrete are falling down onto your face and the smoke from the explosion is clogging your nostrils. You hang for a few seconds, like the person can’t believe they actually caught you. Then they begin pulling you up, lifting you to safety, and you claw the rest of the way only to tumble into Steve’s chest, shaking.

He pulls you into his arms but they’re restless, roaming over your shoulders and through your knotted hair clumsily. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” His voice wavers and he’s on the verge of tears, it seems. His waterline is glossy and his lips are quivering. “Answer me.”

“I’m fine, hey. Steve? I’m good.”

He pulls away and his hands hover you like he doesn’t know what else to do with them. “I’m sorry. I should have kept you close. I-” His voice cracks and he swallows hard. “You sure you’re okay?”

Disregarding his words is difficult, especially when you feel a second meaning to them, but you force yourself to do so. It’s been such a long time since you’ve seen him like this. And each time you have, it was never because of anything good. “Y-yeah. I’m good, Rogers.”

Bucky and Clint look at each other, they look at Steve, to you, and back to each other. Finally, Clint breaks the silence and huffs a light chuckle. “Are we really THAT rusty?”

Present Day, 2025, 11:45pm

The Montana skies are clear and free of passenger planes, allowing the Quinjet to swift easily on autopilot. You could never drive this thing and the building anxiety of that reality bubbles each time it makes an unsteady bounce.

Steve’s laying in the makeshift medical wing and though it’s against protocol, he’s on a secure line with Dr. Cho. She takes her time, albeit working as fast as possible too, and her light voice is fairly calm. It settles you to hear her speak this way.

‘I need you to use this disinfectant, Captain Rogers. Do not pour it on all at once… Good, now dig through gently and make sure the pliers are sanitized.’

Steve digs out the bullets himself and bites down on a clean towel. He’s biting down hard enough that his teeth make a squeaking sound against it. It takes every ounce of your willpower to not do it for him. The Montana skies are beautiful, at least. It’s a good distraction.

Steve gives a rather painful yell as he finally plucks the second bullet, cursing as a stream of blood drips onto the table. He’s got such tough skin - miracle or serum - that the bullets didn’t pass all the way through. Dr. Cho moves on to how to properly bandage the wound but Steve begins to tune her out.

Two years mucking through mud and bodies and getting patched up every other day has prepared him for whatever life may throw during this new century. Not much has changed, it seems.

When the line disconnects, Steve can finally just relax. He focuses on the soft rumble of the engine and your steady breaths.

You hold your breath as you settle the Quinjet on the open field, only half of you actually trusting automatic tech. Steve coaches you the whole time too, the little shit, and promises you’ll never be doing that again.

Steve stumbles and teeters and falls on the porch steps with a low groan. You let him fall because you know you’d only fall with him. He catches himself with the hand he’s been pressing over the bandage while the other still holds on to you. You fight the urge to crash down with him and bite your lip as you look up to the night sky.

“C’mon, Rogers,” you swallow down the increasing worry, “We’re almost inside.”

Steve huffs a pained laugh and nods. He grabs your arm again and with his remaining strength, pulls himself up,

The inside of the cabin looks comfier than the outside. You help Steve to the couch closest to the unlit fireplace before going out back to turn on the power. There’s a thin layer of ice in the grass so just in case, you scope out the garage and make sure there are snow supplies. Not that you really know what the hell snow supplies actually look like, but there’s a shovel and you figure that’s as much as your brain is going to piece together.

When you get back inside, Steve’s fumbling with the coffee maker and leaving tiny fingerprints of blood over every surface he touches. You don’t comment on them, just step back and discreetly wipe the counters each time he passes.

“Figured you’d like a pot,” Steve says.

It damn near breaks your heart how small his voice sounds. The fact he’s stumbling around the cabin making sure you’ve got your coffee fix while he’s nursing two bullet wounds damn near snaps it in two.

“Thank you,” you respond and go to lead him back to the couch. He moans quietly when he sits and again as you lay him down. “I hope you don’t think I’m sleeping here,” Steve laughs and tries to hide his wince due the uncomfortable rumble.

You smile and touch your hand to his hot cheek. His body is working overtime fighting off infection and regenerating tissue. His cheeks are a lovely scarlet red and so is the beautiful bulb of his crooked nose. He’s a little shiny, like varnish over light paint strokes, and taking the fever like a champ. “I’ll help you to the bed in a little bit. Let’s get that fever down first.”

Steve sighs, defeated, but nods. He lays his head back on the pillow and once he shuts his eyes, you get to work. The bathroom is stocked with the simple necessities: aloe vera, vapor rub, heating and cold pads, dozens of towels, and painkillers. You pop two painkillers yourself before gathering everything and dropping it on a nearby table in the kitchen. The coffee is about done brewing so you fill up a mug with bottled water and set it in the microwave for two minutes. You dip a chamomile tea bag a few times once the water is heated. There’s no teapot - you’ll apologize to Steve later.

Once Steve’s happily sipping his tea, you start on the medicine. You wet the small towels and lay them over his forehead and bare chest. You rub aloe vera on the other cuts he obtained from hand-to-hand and finally rub the vapor rub in the dip of his neck and just below his nose. Steve gives you this funny smile as you do so, scrunching his nose and wiggling it back and forth.

“Vicks,” you say as you show him the small container. “Heal you right up.”

“I bet,” he laughs. “Stuff smells like what I think liquid morphine would taste.” A laugh bursts from your chest, your first real instance of calm during these last few hours. You ignore his protests and smother more across his chest.

Steve settles deeper into the couch and returns to his tea. He’s got less sweat on his skin now but he’s still red. You go to pour yourself that coffee and return to his side. The nanotech is growing stiffer and scratching your skin but you refuse to get comfortable until Steve’s fever breaks. You’re still covered in Ernesto’s blood, the red now a hellish brown, and you try not to move your face much for risk of feeling the dry pull of it.

“Steve,” you try, but Steve shakes his head and makes sure to meet your gaze before he speaks.

“No. The less I know the better.”

It surprises you, makes you feel more guilty, but you understand. Not telling him the full truth would be beneficial in the long run. Still, your hands hug the mug closer to your chest. “Do you think I did something bad?”

His upper lip tugs upward, “Do you think you did something bad?”

You don’t think for long. There’s not much need to. “No.”

He nods, “But you care what I think?”

“Of course I do. You’re not just my Captain anymore - you’re my friend. I care even when I’m asking you if my eggs need more salt.”

“You trust me enough to correct your cooking?” He teases, but it’s a question disguised as another.

“I trust you enough to tell me if I need more salt. You’re not correcting it.” He laughs and dips deeper into the couch. The bandage is bleeding through, only slightly, so you move to find the first-aid kit.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’ll stop bleeding soon.”

You hum your disagreement. “I’m gonna keep it clean until you’re strong enough to shower.”

“You can always help me shower,” he mumbles into his tea.

Rolling your eyes, you gently nudge his shoulder as you sit back down with the kit. “If you fall, I can’t catch you, you big lug. We’d have to tell everyone we screwed in there because you falling on top of me, injured, is somehow more embarrassing.”

He allows you to remove the soiled bandage and dab around the healing wounds. He’s bruising around the sides, multiple shades of green and yellow already, and the holes are stitched rather poorly. It makes you feel a little better about your own criss-cross work - even Steve sucks at it.

“I’m sorry I had to go and get myself shot,” Steve apologizes and sucks in a deep breath when the towel drags a little too roughly.

“Yeah, what the hell happened there?”

He almost mimics you in the way he shrugs his shoulders and lifts his arms in that ‘well, fuck if I know’ position, pursing his lips and expelling a chuckle. “Had my gun trained on Ernesto. Ernesto had his own on Ramirez. Then Seda came in and Ernesto ordered Ramirez to hand his over to Seda. Played right into Seda’s hands.”

You process the explanation slowly and dab his wound a few more times before unwrapping the clean bandage. “And the damn shield?”

Steve’s embarrassed by that small detail, he’ll admit it, because he truly was blindsided by Seda’s appearance. You were supposed to be holding him down after all. “In my defense! When it’s shrunk down and in your pocket rather than latched onto one’s arm, it’s easily forgettable.”

You clean around the wound softly before placing and taping the new bandage. The conversation settles and you’re both quiet for a long, long minute. He thanks you for cleaning him up by rubbing sweet circles into the knuckles of your right hand. Finally, you can’t take it anymore. It’s like a wave of irrefutable worry and rage, all bunched together with each emotion trying to outweigh the other. That goddamn riptide, sucking you in and keeping your head below water just for the hell of it. Breathing in harshly, you fail to keep yourself from stuttering over your words. “I’m sorry.”

Steve bites back a groan of pain as he leans over to take your cheeks in his palms. The brush of his fingertips lets you know that you’ve already started crying. You don’t much care about the facade anymore. “Doll, listen to me. Listen.”

“I never meant to leave you alone.”

“You never did.”

You bark out a wet laugh, sarcastic. “I should have run faster. I should have killed him all those years ago. I should have never brought you into this.”

“You did what you had to do,” he says, fiercely. He forgets his own strength for a second, only slightly diminished from the healing process, and loosens his tight grip against your cheeks. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

“I wanted to hate you,” you admit. Your bottom lip is trembling and your hands clench together over your thighs. “I wanted to hate you so much. If I did, then you getting hurt or killed on this mission wouldn’t hurt so bad. I hated you for what you did. Because it made me realize that I could never hate you at all.”

“Hey,” he tries, hands now lowering to clutch at your own. “Stop apologizing for having a heart. Stop thinking you’re not worthy of even having one.”

Your face crumbles and Steve realizes for the first time in a long time just how much you’ve been holding in. “Why didn’t you use the stones?”

Steve’s heart clenches at the sound of the crack in your voice. He hasn’t heard that crack since Clint fell to his knees without Natasha by his side. He holds onto you tighter and prepares himself for an admission he never thought he would ever have to give. “Because Peggy told me not to.”

Something confusing happens in the middle of your chest. It clenches with anger but understanding. The answer to your question was always this simple but it looks like it’s tearing Steve apart from the inside-out.

She’s as beautiful as the day he went into the ice. All he has to do is whisper her name so sweetly, delicately, and she turns her head like she’s answering the prayer. First her knees buckle, eyes watering and blotching her vision, and she collapses on the soft grass of her backyard. Steve’s holding her the very next second, repeating that he’s real, he’s here.

“Steve,” Peggy gasps, hands shaking as she brings them to his wet cheeks. She grips and pokes and does everything so comically that Steve laughs a wet laugh when she starts smacking him. “What is going on?”

And he tells her. Everything he can remember: the good, the bad, the wretched. He spills everything, and he spills the most delicate information of their time: he’s alive, just frozen; Bucky’s alive, just hurt; the world is saved, just broken. Whether she believes it or not Steve’s not sure, but he’s so goddamn happy to see her again that he chokes every other word.

“And you? You’re happy?”

His eyebrows come together and he looks at Peggy like she’s speaking another language. She’s got the same red lipstick, same curl in her hair even if it’s longer now, and she’s filling out her dresses more. “Pegs, don’t ask me that.”

She detaches herself slowly from his arms, pausing their dance as she speaks. “Why not? You can’t expect me to accept that you stopped by to see me all willy-nilly after saving the universe.” Her lips twitch into a knowing smile and Steve melts. Her voice is sending him into a spiral, a world he never thought he would see again, and he realizes just how much he loves accents on women - especially this woman.

“I just,” he chokes out, and brushes his index finger down her cheek. “I had to see you again.”

“I get that,” Peggy says and pays no mind that the record player has stopped; she still sways gently with Steve. “But you’ve just mentioned a whole other world you’ve been a part of. You’ve got your best guy back, that Wilson fellow sounds like the life of the party, and this Agent Y/N certainly sounds like she’s been by your side through it all.”

Steve stutters in his step and holds her closer. Her stomach presses against his, and he stops abruptly. He looks down between them and runs his hand from her shoulder, down, to lay across her growing belly. “Pegs.”

She gives him the same wide and proud smile she gave him when he returned with the 107th. She lays her hand over his. “I know.” She laughs and tilts her head lovingly. “I’m happy, too.”

Steve bites his lip to keep from sobbing. He was so stupid for coming to this timeline, for ruining Peggy’s chance at happiness, for interrupting the life he already knew she created for herself. He inputted the wrong year, he suddenly realizes, and steps back arms-length from her. “I’m sorry, I was stupid to come here. I just wanted to see you and then I did, and I… I still love you, Pegs.”

“Oh,” Peggy gasps, bottom lip trembling. “Darling, do not mistake yourself, even for a second, into thinking that I do not love you too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing for having a heart.”

He wants to argue, say he’s stupid a million more times, but he finds himself listening to her gentle words. It’s Peggy, Steve thinks. She’s always been right.

“In this world you live in, you have James?” He nods. She continues, “In this world you live in, you just lost two of your most loved friends?” He nods again. He wipes his face from forehead to chin. “In this world you live in, you have met a woman who has the same stubbornness as you; has the same self-sacrificing streak, who has your heart in such shambles that you dare call her one of your best friends?”

Steve thinks of you and how broken your smile was as you waved him goodbye, hand clenching Sam’s as Steve gathered the stones and Mjolnir. He thinks of the times you’d leap onto his back and demand a ride; the times he’s saved your ass in a firefight; how his sleep has definitely improved ever since he started calming you from nightmares - he hasn’t slept so well since before the war. He nods again.

Her eyes go soft. “Steve,” she starts and Steve knows. He doesn’t want to know. “Don’t abandon the world you’ve built for yourself. Surround yourself with the people you love. Do this for me.”

“There’s so much hate and blood waiting for me when I get back, Pegs. I don’t want to-”

“There is a difference between you not wanting to and you having to.” He drops his head and focuses on the floor. Peggy isn’t done grilling him, however, and he looks back up to grant her the respect. “You must not abandon the world you helped create. I’m not saying this to be mean. I’m saying this because I know you don’t want to.”

“Pegs.”

“I see right through you, Steve. We marched together through mud and blood before. We’ve got two years of fighting side by side under our belts. I’ve seen you at your worst, and you I. I know that face anywhere.”

“I missed you, Pegs,” Steve breathes. She cups his face with her hands and draws their foreheads together.

“The stars weren’t written in our favor. But to know that you’re alive, and that you make it, and that you actually get to live,” she bites back a sob. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“It isn’t my world to begin with.”

“No, you’re a man out of time. But so is James. You won’t abandon him now, will you?”

He chuckles low and their noses touch. “Stop making me feel guilty for wanting to find you, Peggy.”

She presses a soft kiss to the side of his mouth and finally breaks away. “And you won’t abandon that sweet girl who has put up with your nonsense for the last five years, you say?”

Steve shakes his head and meets Peggy’s gaze. “I’m just tired.��

“They are too, I bet.” He turns to the door and to Peggy, and she figures it’s almost time for him to leave. “You have been the archer and the brave, Steve. I’m absolutely certain you’ve been more. You will be more.”

Steve says his final goodbyes and stops to remember the fine details of Peggy’s face. The fifties are treating her well. Steve expected nothing less. Bright lights flash around him and he’s back to the world he wanted to leave, to hide from, and he sees you - and your mouth parts in shock.

“And you listened to her?” you ask.

Steve smiles, although it’s hard for him to remember that conversation. “I came back. I didn’t listen to her when she said to surround myself with people who love me, and who I love in return.”

“No, you made damn sure of that.”

“Hey,” Steve chuckles. “Don’t take smacks at me when you’re down.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Sorry, it’s just too easy sometimes.” Laughing about the two years of missed chances and spoiled friendship was not on your bingo card for this week.

“I don’t know how this is going to play out,” you admit. Steve looks so young with a somber expression: his eyebrow creases gently without wrinkling the rest of his forehead, the side of his mouth tilts downward, and his eyelashes kiss the pink of cheeks. “I decided in the moment. So I’m fuck all out of ideas on how to proceed.”

He nods in understanding. “Guess we just have to look over our shoulders three times instead of two now.”

“Simple like that?” You scrub a hand over your face and curse inwardly when you smudge your lipstick down to your chin. You ignore it. “I know we’re Avengers, but.”

“No buts,” Steve says and moves to sit up. You help him by pushing his shoulders and he accepts your help as you struggle to the bathroom. “You helped the guy and his daughter. I’m sure he’s going to be watching our backs from now on.”

You help Steve strip from his dress pants and shoes and finally remove your suit as well. The graze on your arm is covered in brown, dried blood but the wound isn’t deep. It’ll sting like a sunburn, you know that, but it’s better than being shot through. You watch Steve enter the shower and leave the curtain drawn. His bandage is soaked again but thankfully it’s from the water and not more blood. You grab a spare towel and soak it with water and soap, and rub it across your lips and chin.

“Let me do that,” Steve calls. You strip bare and bring the towel with you into the shower. Steve takes it and scrubs over your face, gently but more rough as he gets to your eyes. It’s an innocent moment of ‘ouch, scrub softer!’ and ‘surprised I didn’t take all your lashes off’. He helps clean your wound as well and once you’re both clean, he bandages you up and you him.

The master bedroom is the only room without electricity so you gather some candles. It’s like the two of you won’t admit you’re currently afraid of the dark or what may lie in it. They illuminate the room in a delicate orange and it’s such a peaceful color to briefly see before falling asleep, head tucked into Steve’s chest and his heartbeat thrumming gently with your breath.

It’s a wonder what a night’s sleep can do. Steve’s wounds are sealed and his fever is gone, but there’s a signature left behind. A pink and white patch of skin as tender as a newborn’s, a memory. Steve pours your coffee and his tea while you trace your fingers over it.

Two hours after eating a small breakfast and securing the perimeter, a soft ding startles you from the random book you’re reading. Steve’s phone shines with a message from Sam. It simply reads: ‘Clear’. Grabbing the phone and walking out onto the porch, you find Steve sitting on one of the steps he tripped over just yesterday. He’s sketching the sky and the trees, taking his time on the lines of the branches, the strokes of the leaves, and the frost over them. He looks up, studies his surroundings, and looks back down to add a detail he previously missed. He sniffs, rubs his nose, and finally notices you leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey,” he says, soft. “Any news?”

You hold up his phone and nod. “Sam says we’re clear to fly in.”

Steve looks back to his drawing. You hesitate before speaking, knowing damn well an all clear means get your ass back as soon as possible. “Finish your drawing. I’ll pack whatever we need to.” Steve’s mouth parts but he shuts it just as quickly. Slowly, he nods.

There isn’t much to pack since you brought nothing but the clothes on your backs. Everything at the hotel was collected before the wedding and should have flown back with Scott and the others. It feels awkward stealing bottled water and processed foods to hoard on the quinjet, but it’s a necessity. Steve meets you at the quinjet doors, shows you his drawing, and volunteers to take the wheel.

“You’re not volunteering. You’re ordering.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “No license, no drive.”

“What are you? A cop?”

“Don’t think for one second I won’t actually hand the wheels over and happily crash while screaming ‘I told you so’.”

Steve steers for the duration of your flight. The next few hours are spent just enjoying each other’s company, speaking of all things and simply catching up. It’s amazing how much you two missed from one another’s lives those two years.

The landing base is clear and it’s Sam who’s waiting for you as the Quinjet manually lands itself. He shoots you a gap-toothed smile and extends his arms, pulling the two of you in at the same time for a strong hug. He’s talking a mile a minute about how successful the mission was, how Fury is over the moon that it’s finally over, how the DEA is thinking of congratulating everyone one by one. It’s enough to distract Steve, who’s just happy to see his best friend again, but it isn’t enough for you. The large metal doors sealing the storage facility from the rest of the compound are thrown open. Bucky stumbles through and practically sprints over to the three of you.

“Get back on the jet,” he orders, already pulling you by the arm. You all look at one another like he’s gone mad but that’s impossible. Bucky’s paranoia isn’t something to take lightly; he’s right nine out of ten times.

“Buck, what-?”

“Rhodes couldn’t hold them. They have warrants, Steve.”

Steve hauls Sam onto the jet as well. “Warrants for who?”

“Get down from the jet without a fight and this will all go smoothly.”

There are about twenty uniformed officers surrounding the jet. They spread out in case anyone decides to run but it seems pointless to even try. Secretary Ross points his gun directly at you, proud and tall and looking just the same as you remember him. Last time you saw him was at Tony’s funeral.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you bite, and raise your hands in cooperation. Ross shakes his head and his expression contorts into one of disgust. There are red beams coming from each gun but your friends are clean - the beams are only pointed at you.

“Agent Y/N Y/LN, you’re under arrest for multiple charges of drug smuggling, trafficking of illegal goods, the murder of Ernesto Vega and Daniel Seda, aiding and abetting drug-lord Omar Ramirez, and for conspiracy against the United States of America. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a federal court of law...”

You drone out half way through. Ross finishes up the speech but no one is listening. Sam is already yelling over your Miranda Rights and Bucky’s frozen in place. Steve’s fighting his way through to Ross, pushing through the muscle until he’s face to face with him. But Ross isn’t fazed. There’s nothing left to do but exit the jet.

Immediately there are handcuffs slapped to your wrists. Two men drag you over to the containment car that’s enforced with so much indestructible material it’s almost insulting. You weren’t enhanced - they were doing this for fun.

“You’ve got it all wrong! Y/N! Y/N!”

You don’t fight. Conspiracy… you’re surprised they didn’t just shoot you dead. Steve’s still yelling, begging to be heard, but you try to block him out. It’s not your first time being arrested but it is your first time being charged with something you didn’t do. As funny as that sounds, it’s terrifying.

“Steve,” you say, and Steve breaks through some more hired muscle so he’s within earshot. “It’s okay.”

His face pulls up in pain, “No, you didn’t do this! They’re not listening!”

One of the officers pushes your head down roughly and tries to shove you in the backseat. You’re still looking at Steve. And those eyes, wounded and vulnerable, haunt him even after the door shuts and the car drives away.

There’s a privilege attached to the mantle of Captain America. Perhaps he was too blind to see it during the war or just too proud he was finally being heard and respected, but now he sees it for what it really is. It’s a mantle this country has never truly associated with the person but with the purpose. Steve was manufactured to help protect this country under government orders and when he defied that purpose, he disgraced the mantle. Seems like some people idolize the role a little too much.

But he’s still Captain America. This reality has continued to clear his name from stunts he pulls and laws he breaks. And once Steve is able to walk away without so much as a scratch, he leaves bodies behind.

Sharon. Sam. Bucky. Wanda. And now you. All people who fought his fight and weren’t granted the quick privilege of that perceived pureness and holiness. He was always ready for combat, he was built for it, but he didn’t really want it.

Did he?

Ripping that star off his chest was one thing. Accepting his new shield cemented his continual legacy as the Star-Spangled Man. He deserved to be in that cell with you. But if he learned anything about how the world works, it’s that cruelty doesn’t just win in the movies. All of his enemies started out friends and if he had to bet, he’d bet the reason they’re labeled as such is partially because of him.

So he sits and listens to everyone’s ideas and plans, vetoing and dismissing one right after the other, his mind doing jumping jacks. He’s both there and not, drowning in the fact that he made it home and you didn’t. He doesn’t know how to sleep without the sound of your snoring anymore.

He sits and listens.

The cell isn’t one you would expect for someone who has been charged for betraying her country. It’s modestly furnished: a black cot in the far right corner with a mini table beside it, a desk with some paper, and a door that leads to the private bathroom. All in all, the room’s size is that of a child’s bedroom; there’s no actual pens and pencils for risk of violent behavior and there’s a bulb camera that moves when you move.

You’ve been trapped in worse.

Countless detectives and investigators have visited already. They all ask the same questions: Why did you do it? Did Captain Rogers know? Who are you, really?

You give the same answers: I didn’t do it. Of course, every single person knows. Who do you think I am?

Every time they leave more discouraged than the one before them, refusing to compare notes with one another in case they were in possession of gold. They all ignore you when you try to ask for Steve and his wellbeing. Their faces contort, they whisper to their partners, and they shake their heads in disappointment. One even goes as far as to threaten you, warning you to keep Captain Roger’s name out of your wetback mouth or else, until he’s escorted from the cell. Not that it really matters - the manipulated ideals of these people will always blur their search for the truth. And when the truth fails to satisfy such greedy manipulations, they choose to create their own.

There is one agent who peaks your interest. He offers you gum when he settles in the chair near the door. His name badge reads ‘Kavert’; it glares in the bright lights overhead and he makes no other attempt at small talk once he gets comfortable and opens his little notepad.

That goddamn notepad, you think. Every single person before has prided themselves over it, scribbling little notes about your tone of voice, body movement, and vague answers. You never give much, Natasha had taught you better, so they always end up writing less than two bullet points before giving up.

But Agent Kavert surprises you by opening up to a blank page, spitting his chewed gum in the middle, and then he shuts it closed. He offers you a real smile, one that doesn’t look practiced or forced. It lets you study him without being so guarded or uncomfortable. He seems young, not really a rookie but it’s obvious he’s spent more time behind a desk than out in the field. His dark hair is short, sprinkled grays near his temples, and his attire screams upper level. His build is lean, his gun is in the holster on his right hip, and a part of you knows he’d put up a hell of a fight if you tried to escape.

“I was gonna comment on what lovely weather we’re having, but I don’t think you get out much.”

You’re startled into a real laugh. Satisfaction washes over his face.

“I think you’re wasting your time, Agent Kavert.”

He grins and moves to proudly pull at his jacket and present his badge. He sets the notebook to the side and leans forward to cup his hands together on his knees.

You squint at him. There’s nothing interesting about you right now: back against the wall as you sit criss-crossed on the cot, sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, hair brushed but a little greasy. Your last shower was two days ago and you figure they’ll let you have one tonight.

“Yeah, you’re right. There’s no point in hoping you’ll tell me anything you haven’t shared yet.”

“Nope.”

He hums low in his throat and tilts his head to the left. Now, he squints at you. “I just don’t get it. How did you do it? Not show up on our radar, I mean?”

It doesn’t seem like he’s calling you guilty or innocent. Already he’s one-hundred percent different from the other agents. “I wasn’t exactly hiding.”

He sits up to lean back in the chair, “Different last name, government and Avenger protection, covering your tracks so carefully even the DEA missed you.”

“You’ve done your homework.”

“Yes, but,” he starts. He acts like he’s having a normal conversation on his front porch. “It still doesn’t make sense. How could Nick Fury miss this? Tony Stark? After the whole Obadiah situation, I expected him to-”

“It’s simple, really. Do you want to know or do you want to keep making assumptions?”

He’s watched the other agents leave by this point. Some couldn’t even make you talk. So he shuts up and waves his hand for you to continue.

“Cool,” you breathe out. “First of all, I’m literally only telling you this because I’ve already been refused a lawyer or some crap like that and I highly doubt this is going to actual court. The publicity would be horrible.”

He bites his lip but you catch the little smile forming. You continue, “And I have nothing to hide. I’m sure my Captain, my teammates, and Fury himself have given their sides. Am I right?”

Agent Kavert adjusts himself in the seat and nods in response. He doesn’t dare interrupt you now.

“Good, then I’ll keep it sweet. They knew who I was. I was recruited to be an inside source, a double agent, and this wedding was the perfect chance to corner those men,” you declare, turning your hands palm up and shrugging your shoulders. “There, happy?”

“Double agent.” Agent Kavert chews over the words, rolling them around on his tongue a few more times. He’s squinting harder and you can see his brain working. The next sound to leave his lips is a heavy sigh and a feeling of immense irritation washes over you. It wasn’t enough. “Are we going to be truthful yet, Agent?”

Chuckling lightly, you rest the back of your skull on the wall. It was wrong to assume he’d be any different from the others. “Of course you don’t believe me. You want more, they all do. I don’t suppose I have anything better to do.”

He claps his hands on his thighs and leans forward again, loud and restless. “Then let’s get started, really: Did you or did you not let Omar Ramirez, Mexican drug-lord involved with Ernesto Vega, your father... imagine that, run away from a crime scene, evade arrest, and possibly leave the country?”

“You expect me to follow all those questions?”

“It’s not the time to be funny.”

“You were enjoying it just a second ago,” you mumble. He raises his eyebrows, still waiting for an answer. “Then let me put it simply: no, I did not.”

“Did you or did you not assassinate Ernesto Vega?”

“I would have remembered such a brilliant kill if it came from my gun.”

“So that’s a no… Daniel Seda?”

“His gun was pointed at my Captain. Yes.”

“Against orders, then?”

Confusion is written all over your face and you make sure the camera knows it too. There are only so many times you can repeat yourself. “Don’t you have Steve’s report? Scott’s?”

“We have to hear the story from you, Agent.”

“But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? You don’t believe me.”

He shrugs and quickly scans you up and down. Even if he doesn’t have the tangible notepad in his hands, he’s getting away with making mental notes. “The story just isn’t piecing together the way it should be. Why would Daniel Seda murder his greatest ally and friend?”

“Our mics have already transcribed that answer for you, sir. I’m sure of it. And I’ve got sources outside of the DEA and Avengers-”

“Like Maribel Rodrigo? Another smuggler who has operated inside the cartel, HYDRA, Madripoor…”

You cut him off, angry. “Not the full story.”

Tone of voice: defensive.

“Then that leads me to my next question.”

“Oh, fun.”

Tone of voice: sarcastic.

He speaks with a tinge of astonishment hidden in every syllable. “Why didn’t you do it? Kill Ernesto, I mean.”

“I was disarmed at the time. The Captain and I both were,” you answer, growing more impatient by the second.

He uses his hands to speak now, finger pointing along an invisible timeline detailing the order of events. “So you admit you were going to kill him if you had your weapon.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Body movement: rigid.

“Or maybe you weren’t. Maybe my boss is right, maybe the FBI is right in thinking that you are a double agent leaning more towards your roots than our boys in blue.” He says this like its scripture; like it’s some holy conspiracy he’s just found evidence for. He wants you to plant words in your mouth and in this discussion so he can pluck the evidence from the ground and water it with fire.

You scoff hard, “I hardly ever wear blue when doing your job for you.”

“Was letting Omar Ramirez escape our job or just yours?”

Telling him the truth would mean losing all credibility, all titles, all trust in your work. You know what you’ve done and you don’t regret it. Ramirez was never the biggest fish and if you spun this right, then he was simply a fish who got his meal and promptly swam away. “You assume I let him go. What evidence tells you that?”

He ignores the question and instead asks another of his. “Why were your relations kept hidden from SHIELD and the FBI?”

“That’s a question for you know who.”

He shakes his head in disappointment. “You’re in a lot of trouble.”

“I bet I am. But this is not some precinct where you can get my team to turn on me so easily. And this is not a situation in which they’re lying for me. I trust that whatever the Captain has said is the answer to all your questions.”

“We’re gonna unravel this case. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

You’re suddenly overcome with a wave of sleepiness. These past two weeks have been exhausting even if you haven’t moved more than five feet from wall to wall. Having to repeat yourself to people who have already written the story for themselves is tiring. “I don’t know why you guys can’t just believe the words of myself and everyone vouching for me. We got you all the evidence. We have given you more names and connections that you’ll ever know what to do with. You don’t need to unravel anything; it’s all there! But because we weren’t able to arrest the one person you wanted, that being Ernesto, you go after me. You have White but I guess he’s not talking. And you’ll believe what you want to believe.”

“I trust my gut.”

“As simple as that, huh?” You sigh deeply and cross your arms over your chest. “You know, there’s a saying the late Agent Carter used to tell all SHIELD agents when they first started out and when they came back from missions. When she retired, it was Fury who then eased our minds.”

Agent Kavert has a harsh line creasing through the middle of his forehead and he looks deeply interested.

“There are three sides to every story,” you recite. “Your side, my side, and the truth.” A gentle shrug of the shoulders feels like all you’re allowed to give him. “I’m not lying to you but I’m not telling you the full truth either. Just my side.”

Agent Kavert shuts his eyes and bounces his left leg. He looks conflicted and unable to formulate a response at all. He’s shaking like he’s at war with himself or with the suits on the other side of the door, but no one has come knocking yet. “Let’s say I believe you. Just for a second.”

You nod.

“Daniel Seda murders Vega at his own daughter’s wedding. We managed to catch Marcus White and because of fault entirely, Omar Ramirez gets away. Because from what I heard, Ramirez was working with you.” He paints the picture rather mundane, but you shoot him a smile that tells him he’s on the right track. “And you and all the other Avengers were blindsided by Ramirez. You gathered all the evidence you were told to gather, worked together and played your cards right, infiltrated one of the most secure estates in the country, and fucked up so badly that you managed to let two of your biggest giants die?”

“I really think you got it spot on.”

He laughs dryly, “But it still doesn’t make sense. Once Vega was gone and Seda survived, where would you have fallen in this tree?”

He wants to retract his question the moment he sees your face fall with such a sincerity he wasn’t ready for. “That’s just it, Agent Kavert. I would have fallen.”

“And the other two? How would business work? Would Daniel Seda have been the head of it now?”

“Your answers are in the evidence we gathered. I know you guys aren’t touching it because you think I’m compromised.”

He stands from the chair and dusts off his jacket. “Your side, my side, and the truth,” he repeats. He goes to open the door but you speak quickly before he can leave.

“They think I infiltrated SHIELD, the Avengers, and am in bed with HYDRA because they’ve been helping Ernesto’s vision all along.” Agent Kavert stops and turns back to you. “I am a double agent whose identity was kept secret to aid this country and not raise suspicions from your part. I have seen a lot of things, have done things I’m not proud of, but I’ve done it all for a reason.”

Agent Kavert looks almost ashamed. Tone of voice: sincere.

“Me and my Captain saved lives, our own as well, and we stopped three of the most notorious drug-lords who have been at large since the eighties. We got your giants for you. And the truth is, I have discovered: through all my pain and experience... that it’s excellent to have a giant’s strength; but it is tyrannous to use it like a giant.”

Agent Kavert doesn’t know if you’re talking about Ernesto, the U.S Government, yourself, or him. His eyebrows pinch together and he slowly moves to leave the room.

It’s another week before you’re visited by someone who isn’t bringing you food or extra toilet paper. You’re picking at your cuticles when the vents above your cell begin rattling with the obvious weight of a human being. You sit dumbly on the bed, straining your ears and trying hard not to laugh as each rattle is returned with a muffled curse. The vent on the ceiling right outside your cell drops to the concrete floor.

Ernesto’s men wouldn’t go through all that trouble to kill you James Bond style. They would have just bribed a guard. So it’s a treat when the door swings open quickly and in comes a staggering Clint, keys in one hand and his phone in the other. The screen is illuminated, showcasing what looks to be blueprints. He’s got a bandaid over his left eyebrow and dust all over his clothes.

Your upper lip twitches into a silly smile. “You’re ridiculous if you thought you wouldn’t be heard in those damn vents.”

Clint makes a noise that sounds like he’s saying ‘maaaf’ and he plops down beside you on the cot. It’s absolutely hilarious he traveled in the vents and that the team approved this when in reality, they could have just sent Scott. “Just had to get past the first line of security. Plus, the blueprints said they were wider... I figure we’ve got a good three minutes before they check the cameras.”

It’s not the first time you sit in a cell with a time crunch.

The Raft is nothing special. They have you all separated by rank, meaning you were in the same vicinity as Clint, Sam, and Scott. Wanda was moved to a more secure location and you haven’t seen her since they brought you in.

There isn’t much to do in a place like this. You tried counting how many strands of hair you had but gave up once you counted two hundred; you tried seeing if the others could hear you when you yelled out to them but the cells were soundproof; you even tried filing your nails against the uneven paint on the wall. It’s like they made life in these cells purposefully horrible - like you didn’t save the world a couple times over, c’mon.

The camera fidgets over your head where you’re laying down and after a few seconds, it stops. The red light slowly fades and turns a bright yellow. You move to stand on the bed and reach for it, but a voice startles you from doing so.

“Don’t mess with my magic!”

You topple over the single pillow you were given and fall flat on the bed, scrambling to shield yourself from whoever intruded. “Jesus!”

“Oh, I met him. Strange lad, didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

There’s a moment where you think you must be dreaming. His hair is longer and hits his shoulders and he’s added some blue and yellow to his usual attire. But other than that, he’s alive. Truly, brilliantly, really alive.

“Loki, what the fuck?”

“Right!” Loki claps his hands and extends them outwards, smiling. “Ta-da!”

A few beats pass. You blink a few times just in case you’re hallucinating. Barely a week in containment…

“I’m sorry… I’m still trying to process the fact that you’re still alive!”

He scoffs low and goes to sit at the edge of the bed. “A God never truly dies, darling.”

“Well in Greek mythology-”

“Greek mythology and I have this unsettled beef that’s been going on for about five hundred years. Do not mention Greek mythology to me.”

“Excuse me, right, I should have known that was a sensitive topic.”

Loki swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and expels a laugh. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your restraint is gone and you lunge forward to envelope him in the tightest hug you’ve ever given anyone. He returns it, sighing into your shoulder and holding you close. You pull away just to stare at him, watching his features as they move ever so slightly. It’s really him.

“I-” Loki tries but stutters. He’s studying you too and he almost looks sad. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Does Thor know?” Loki shakes his head at your question and winces when you smack his shoulder. “Loki, Thor has been grieving you for months!”

“I’m planning on it!” You don’t believe him. He goes to rub his shoulder. “Gods, I forgot you had excellent aim.”

You look back at the camera and find that the yellow light is still glowing, dim. Loki’s magic is blocking footage out or putting footage in, you really don’t know. But it’s allowing you a few moments with the man you thought you’d never see again. “Spontaneous reincarnation aside, what are you doing here? How did you even know I was here?”

“I’m on this planet for five-FIVE minutes, and the television has all these reports about you and everyone fighting each other?”

“Mm, right, right.”

Loki stares at you, amused. “... Care to explain?”

Your face contorts into a hundred different expressions until you finally settle on one of gentle guilt. “The person we were after was a friend of a friend. I made a judgement call and let him go.”

“You went against orders?”

“I went against the law.”

“Even better.”

With an eyebrow cocked, you give him a judging look. “Loki.”

His eyes crinkle from the intensity of his smile and you’ve missed him, you missed him so much. “That’s what I love about you. Barely starting out as an Avenger and you’re already realizing you can do more good in your own way.”

You groan quietly and rest your head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist and tugs you closer. “I mainly did it for Steve. Wasn’t like it was a big ‘fuck you’ to one-hundred and seventeen nations for the hell of it.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No.”

“Spoken like a true anti-hero.”

“You comparing me to yourself?”

Loki chuckles and runs his fingers through the strands of hair closest to your cheek. “Darling, I’m a God. No one comes close.” He sighs, serious again. “All I’m saying is that it’s refreshing to see the young break the rules.”

“I missed you,” you softly say. You can feel the nudge of his cheek turning upward against your head.

“Always nice to hear.”

Rolling your eyes, you move to meet his gaze. “So, no reason why you came to visit me specifically?”

Loki takes one cautious look at the camera, to outside your cell, and back to you. “I too do things for your lovely Captain.” His smile grows wider.

“What?”

He winks and tilts his head over to the giant metal doors that are starting to pry open. “See you in a minute.”

The alarms begin blazing; there is fog filling the room, and Steve emerges from that fog with a winning smirk.

You look over at Clint, half selfishly wishing he was Loki on another one of his midnight visits, and quickly do away with the thought. “So how’s life without me?”

“Oh, it’s great! The flowers are in bloom, the kitchen isn’t always a mess, and my bow and arrow aren’t misplaced because you wanted to have some fun with it,” he jokes, stretching far enough that his feet dig into your thigh like he’s trying to make more room for himself.

“Not like it’s your only bow and arrow.”

He chuckles and sits up. He does a once over of the room and adjusts the frequency on his hearing aid. “They read you your rights at least?”

You wait to respond until he finishes fixing it. You speak and sign the words slowly, “I don’t think any lawyer in America will want to take this case anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s a career killer.”

Trying to refrain from smiling around Clint was nearly impossible. You look to the door quickly, “Two minutes?”

He shoots up straighter as he watches your hands, “Right! So we’re currently tracking down your sister-”

“My sister?”

“Steve thinks she’s our only hope at clearing your name.”

“Why is that? I told her to get as far away as possible.”

Clint sighs and scratches the skin just above the bandaid. “She stayed in Mexico all those years you were gone. By all accounts, Ernesto adored her. Because of that, her influence might clear your name.”

“But she stayed. All the more reason to believe she was involved as well,” you say, shaking your head.

“She’s barely out of her teens. Everything that happened, happened when she was a minor. She has a first hand account of the abuse Ernesto caused you. And Steve thinks that the Julian fellow might even come clean and admit to the arranged marriage. Shows a pattern of abuse by Ernesto to his own children. Could spin it to make it seem like you had no other choice but to follow his orders.”

You follow his hands slowly, some signs difficult to read but you latch onto the gist of his argument. You groan and lean your head back on the wall with a small thump. “They go against Ernesto and they have targets on their backs. Even my other siblings who are still involved with all of this won’t let it go.”

“Y/N… Ernesto’s dead. You know that.”

“His influence isn’t.”

There’s minimal commotion a few doors down. Clint realizes it’s time to leave. “It might never be. But we don’t get to live in the future.” He stands with another small groan and stretches as he prepares to lift himself back into the vent. “We’re living now, and it’s all any of us can do.”

“Clint?” You also stand and have to wave in his peripheral to get his attention. He turns and knows what you’re about to say even without the hand gestures. “They won’t answer me when I ask.”

His lips pull into a perceptive smile, “He’s okay. Doing what he does best - blaming himself.”

“Oh, okay, good.”

He’s had enough practice reading your lips to notice the sarcasm that drips from them. He hurries to lift himself up. “We’ve got about a million tricks up our sleeve. If Jackeline’s word or the evidence isn’t enough, we’ve always got Fury and his blackmail.”

“Yeah, half the guys who interviewed me look like they cheat on their wives, so.”

He genuinely laughs and jumps high, muttering more to himself than to you. “Up we go…”

The team locates Jackeline just a few days after your run-in with Clint. The building saw a triple rise in security but even then it didn’t prevent undercover agents passing all the checkpoints and sliding notes with your meals. They’d leave the tray, tip their hats, and smile like they knew the cameras wouldn’t suspect a thing.

The first note is from Bucky, with the simple message of ‘I watched a few episodes of The Crown without you… I’m sorry.’

The second comes on the same day at dinner time, this one from Wanda. ‘I think Peter is trying to flirt with your sister.’

The third isn’t slipped through with any meal, but rather through the tiny opening beneath the door. ‘Surprised we did this the legal way this time! See you soon! - Rhodey’

The final one is actually hand delivered when several guards come in to tell you you’re free to go. They’re mumbling amongst themselves, cursing the system and the privileges Avengers always get, when the smallest of the five turns to you and hands you the note. ‘I owe you one. You owe me one. Who’s counting anymore? - Joaquin’

Jackeline had been able to track down Maribel and the two of them, with such accuracy in their stories and their timelines, constructed your defense perfectly. They showed them phone records, all of the recordings from that week, had proof that you never signed a thing, and made several special deals. Jackeline promised to reveal where bodies were buried, where business was dealt with, who else was involved with Ernesto and Seda. Maribel managed to get a message to them from Ramirez, which basically cleared you from the crime they were trying to stick. Ramirez was a damn good liar, you’ll give him that, and it made you the tiniest bit sad that you’d probably never see him again.

The tipping point was when Steve turned himself in. There was no evidence that you did anything, never signed anything, never conspired behind your teammates backs. Fury made sure not to keep a paper or electronic trail. But there was evidence that implicated Steve - the contract. No matter how badly the FBI and CIA tried to make it go away, to absolve Steve from it, he didn’t back down. It was like the story they originally wanted toppled in on itself and it was actually Steve who forced you into all of this - playing your connections and forcing your hand. The contract hadn’t been voided, still hasn’t, and they really couldn’t risk another SHIELD fiasco. So it was destroyed to protect the Stars and Stripes, and in return they promised to let you go if you didn’t tell a soul. The image you’d come to despise, that tacky red, white and blue, is starting to grow on you.

‘Let me think about that and get back to you,’ you had joked. You think they let you go sooner because they feared the truth in your joke.

But there wasn’t anything to think about, ever, still isn’t. Steve pulled another sacrifice play and you wanted to get out as soon as possible to kick his ass.

You leave the prison with the same clothes you had on when you entered. They smell washed and you’re thankful they allowed you to shower before you left. You ignore the looks guards and prisoners aim at you, each trying to somehow get their hits in without actually pulling their punches. This would be a media disaster either way, didn’t matter the outcome of a supposed trial, and PR was most likely struggling to prepare their defense.

You resist the embarrassing urge to run into his arms. He’s standing right outside the gates, leaning back on the passenger side of his rusty old blue pickup, positively glowing underneath the blazing sun. You’re blinded by it, skin thanking the dangerous rays for its first touch in weeks, but it only takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. He still hasn’t shaved and his hair is getting longer, and instead of his usual tucked-in dress shirt, he’s wearing a brown leather jacket over a faded graphic tee that reads AC/DC. It was Tony’s.

You’ve only got the broken burner phone and a hair tie in your possession; it’s what was on you when you were arrested. You drop the burner in a nearby trashcan and head on over to the truck. Steve’s wide smile buckles your knees and it damn near breaks your heart. Even when the two of you weren’t on speaking terms, you still saw each other at least twice a week. Going two weeks without seeing him feels like a lifetime.

Once you're a few feet away, you stop in front of him. There are no immediate words you know to say, so you simply shrug your shoulders and give him a look that asks ‘What now?’

“Home.”

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress

#captainsimagines #captain america x reader #steve rogers x reader #reader x steve rogers #avengers fanfiction #avengers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel masterlist #marvel fanfiction #mob fanfic #reader insert #trigger warnings listed #you x steve rogers

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maxineswritingcenter · 4 years ago

Text

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 9

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

The shared pain of both might have been easier for Derek to handle, but as a human - it was taking everything I had to stay awake.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Derek called, gritting his teeth at the movement in his wrists. I looked up slowly but my head dropped back down again.

“I’m so tired.” I hummed sleepily.

“Don’t give up!” He shouted, “You can’t. Because you didn’t give up on me!”

“Yeah,” I giggled, “I’m a real hardass, aren’t I?”

“Come on” Derek jerked at his restraints, “Come on!” My body went slack, and the last thing I heard was a loud rumbling roar cutting through the air.

The space I was in was empty, dark and clouded. The only thing was a purple glowing path. I started down the path, seeing people along the path, watching as I walked.

I saw my mom and Dad, they were worried looking around, soot and ash covered their faces and clothes.

“(Y/N)?!” Mom called.

“Sweetie, where are you?!” Dad shouted, keeping close to mom.

“I’m right here-” I tried to reach out to them but my fingers were zapped by whatever barrier was around the path. I pulled my hand back and looked at my fingers, the same glow from the path lit them up and slowly faded back to the color of my skin. I guess I can’t leave the path once I start. I walked further, realizing that what I was walking was a spiral.

The third familiar face I saw was Laura Hale. She smiled at me kindly, her eyes flashing red.

“Take care of Derek. He’s strong, but he needs someone to help him along the way. You need him too. That’s what mates do. Oh and tell him I said hi.”

“I will.”

Laura laughed under her breath, “It’s good to see you again, (Y/N).” She turned, walking away.

“Again? Have we…met before?” She was gone, a wisp in the shadows. All I could do was keep going.

In the middle of the spiral, there were two other paths that met there. I stepped on the connection and the paths brightened from a purple to a while. That’s when I realized that I had been walking on a giant triskelion, the symbol of the Hale family.

“(Y/N), come on, wake up.” I heard a voice called. I opened my eyes slowly, Scott was lightly tapping my face.

“Scott?” I whispered. He laughed, bending down to untie my restraints and helping me into a standing position. I leaned on Scott, blinked slowly, then finally looked around. The man who was sent in to torture us was on the ground, out cold. Looking around again, I saw Derek who had one arm out of his restraints.

“You gotta help me with this.” He motioned to the shackle. Scott helped me move over closer, leaning me up against the wall.

“No.” Scott said.

“What?” He asked, confused.

“Not until you tell me how to stop Peter.”

“You really want to talk about this right now?”

“He’s going after Allison and her family. He’s going to kill them.”

“So what!? We need to get her out of here.” He motioned to me. At that moment, the pain started up again.

“So tell me how to stop him.”

“You can’t! Alright, now!” Derek pulled on the shackle, “I don’t know when Kate’s coming back, just get me out of this right now! Get me out right now!!”

"Promise you’ll help me.” Scott was adamant, but he wasn’t usually this stubborn without a reason.

“You’re gonna risk our lives for your girlfriend, huh? For your stupid little teenage crush that means absolutely nothing?! You’re not in love, Scott! You’re sixteen years old! You’re a child!”

He nodded, “Maybe you’re right. But I know something you don’t. Peter said he didn’t know what he was doing when he killed your sister, right?” He pulled a picture out of his pocket, it was a dead deer with a spiral on its side.

“Remember this? This is what brought your sister back to Beacon Hills, right?”

“My boss told me, three months ago, somebody came into the clinic asking for a copy of this picture. Do you wanna know who it was?” Derek just stared.

“Where did you get that?”

“Peter’s nurse. They brought your sister here so he could kill her and become the alpha, and that’s why you’re going to help me!”

Derek gripped onto the shackle chain and breathed heavily. Clearly upset that it was true that his Uncle killed his sister on purpose, not on accident.

Scott turned around, “Just say that you’ll help me and I’ll help unlock your other-” He was cut off by the sound of the chain breaking Derek’s other restraint. His anger was running through him like wildfire and his anger lit the flame in me to keep going. He finally saw the truth.

Derek rubbed his wrist, "I’ll help you.” I smiled at him.

“Laura said hi.” I said softly. Derek inhaled deeply and nodded, licking his bottom lip. Derek took me in his arms, and we all went up out of the cellar and outside.

After walking a while, we made it to the house. I was walking at this point, getting some strength back. We had rushed out of the cellar in case we met Kate along the way. I felt the familiar terrible feeling in my chest and grabbed Derek��s hand. He looked back at me, and through the connection we had he understood.

“Hold on.” Derek stopped us all, “Something doesn’t feel right.”

“What do you mean?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know, it’s- it’s kind of like it’s-”

"No, no, no, don’t say ‘too easy’! People say 'too easy’ and bad things happen.” Scott warned, “What you think fighting was too easy? Getting away from Allison’s dad, none of this has been easy!“

"Fine. You’re right.” He said, I gripped his hand tighter.

“Phew.” Scott sighed. As the air left his mouth, a whistling sound preceded an arrow shooting through Derek’s back. My shoulder jerked, feeling the force of the arrow go through him. Derek fell to the ground, pulling me with him. Looking behind us, I saw Kate with her new protégé: Allison. Allison notched another arrow. As Derek stood again, another arrow shot through his leg. I cried out, going down with him.

“Scott! Your eyes!” Derek called, squeezing his eyes shut. Scott and I helped Derek to his feet, fighting through the gas that could knock all of us out. Another arrow whistled, this time the pain I felt in my side was real. I cried out, falling forward. Derek’s arm kept me from hitting the ground. We made it to an area where Derek could remove both arrows in him, and mine.

“Shit.” I cursed, pressing my hand to my side.

Derek stood, grabbing Scott by his collar, “Come on!” He pulled us to the Hale house, limping all the way. He eventually fell just in front of the house, shoving Scott and I ahead. I looked back, seeing Allison stalking towards us.

“Allison, I can explain-” Scott pleaded.

“Stop lying.” Allison’s voice held no emotion what-so-ever, “For once, stop lying."

Scott backed away as she got closer, "I was going to tell you at the Formal, I was gonna tell you everything. Everything that I said, everything that I did-”

“Was to protect me.” She finished.

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Oh thank god, now shoot him before I have to shoot myself.” Kate groaned as she walked up on us, pulling a gun from her belt.

“You said we were just gonna catch them.” Allison said, the sight of the gun seemed to frighten her.

“We did that. Now we’re gonna kill them.” Kate aimed at Derek, shooting him as he lay helpless on the ground.

“DEREK!” I shouted, trying to move towards him, but Kate aimed the pistol directly at me, I backed away hesitantly. Tears streaming down my already tear stained cheeks. She turned the pistol on Scott.

“I loved those brown eyes.” Kate sighed, finger on the trigger.

“He’s just a kid!” I shouted, moving to get the gun from her when another voice entered.

“Kate!” The voice’s origin appeared from the shadows and there stood Chris Argent, “I know what you did. Put the gun down."

“I did what I was told to do.” She excused herself.

“No one asked you to murder innocent people. There were children in that house. Ones who were human. Look what you’re doing now, you’re holding a gun at a sixteen year old boy. No proof he’s spilled human blood. We go by the code. Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent.”

“We hunt those who hunt us.” Allison whispered. Kate still didn’t move her gun.

Chris pulled one on her, “Put the gun down.” He shot off a round, “Before I put you down.“ The gun he was using looked…so familiar.

“Whatcha doin’, daddy?” I asked, peaking my head over his work bench. Dad was etching a carving into the side of one of those guns mommy said I couldn’t touch because they were dangerous. He was drawing a pretty picture of a dog and the sun.

“Just something for a friend, sweetie.” He looked down at me over his glasses, “Now go run along.”

My father made guns for Chris Argent…

“Allison, get back.” Chris commanded. Allison, Scott and I moved away from the entrance of the house. Chris and Kate pointed their pistols towards the door.

“What is it?” Allison whispered, her voice trembled.

"It’s the alpha.” Scott replied. We all stood there, the tension in the air could have been cut with a knife. Allison pulled her bow, aiming towards the door. Scott shifted into his wolf form. I moved away from the group, with no weapon I just moved back, leaning against a tree. I felt at my side, blood still trickled down my side but now as much as it was before.

In a flash, something darted from the house, towards the group. Everyone scattered, nowhere to run. Allison made her way towards me, keeping her arm steady, ready to shoot.

Chris shouted, knocked off his feet, Allison and I were next. The impact of the fall worsened my wounds. Scott followed as Peter knocked us all to the ground faster than we could anticipate. Now it was just Kate who stood alone.

“COME ON!” She shouted in the dark, “COME ON!” In an instant, Peter was with her. He grabbed her wrist and shot off his gun as he broke her arm. She screamed in pain. His hand moved to her throat, throwing her towards the house. He flashed to her side, dragging her into the house.

“No!” Allison shouted.

“Allison, stop!” I groaned, following her inside. She didn’t realize what danger she was putting herself in, no matter how angry she was at Scott, she couldn’t take on an alpha werewolf by herself.

Allison stood in front of Peter who held his claws to Kate’s throat.

“She is beautiful, Kate.” He remarked casually, “She looks like you.” He pressed the tips of his claws against her throat, making her gasp, “But not as damaged. So I’m going to give you a chance to save her.“

Peter was shaking from his anger, “Apologize.” He commanded, “Say that you’re sorry for decimating my family. For leaving me burned and broken for six years. Say it. And I’ll let her live."

"I’m sorry.” Kate muttered, letting her pride slip away at the danger her niece was in.

Peter’s face did not move, her hands trembling as he quickly dragged his claws across her jugular. Blood spraying across Allison’s face. I watched Kate’s shocked face, the light going out of her eyes. Her body fell to the floor.

Peter sighed in relief, a smile on his face, “I don’t know about you, Allison but that apology…didn’t sound very sincere.” Scott appeared, standing his ground in front of Allison, Derek followed, both in the werewolf form.

“Run.” Scott said to us. Allison made it out but Peter blocked the door as I tried to follow.

“No, let (Y/N) stay. After all, this is her future.” Peter grinned, as I backed up towards the staircase. Scott and Derek circled Peter while he looked vaguely like he was enjoying the situation. They both growled and lunged towards Peter, but both were repelled away. Derek threw a punch, but was tossed up into a ceiling beam and thrown into a fallen piano. I fell against the stairs, feeling every impact. My ears were buzzing with voices: Mom, Dad, Stiles, Uncle Noah, Kate. I pressed my hands to my heart praying it would stop. Flashes of triskelions, my parents, and wolves appeared in my mind every time I tried to close my eyes.

Scott jumped onto Peter’s back but was instantly thrown off. Both beta on the ground. Seeing Derek and Scott there, looking up at Peter in fear just made something inside me scream.

I couldn’t remember moving over to them, but I stood in front of both of them, separating them and Peter.

“(Y/N), get out of here!” Derek shouted, his fear touching my new courage but not enough to make it waver.

“I’m not letting you hurt them.” I glared. Peter only laughed.

“Ahh, this was always something I admired about you. You have so much fighting spirit. But I’m afraid the fun is over.” He went to grab me, but was confused when my hand made it to his first. His wrist trembled to move, but only stayed put in my grasp. He looked from his wrist to my eyes, confusion spreading across his face.

Later, I would not be able to describe the feelings I had when this…snap finally happened. But it was like a dam went off inside of me, everything fell into place, and the wolf inside of me came to light.

In his shocked eyes, I saw the reflection of mine that burned bright red, “I said, I’m not letting you hurt them.” I kicked him in the stomach, sending him through a wall. My breathing was heavy, my gums aching as fangs grew. I looked over my shoulder at the two, both of them shocked.

Peter stood back up, cracking his neck to the side, “A surprise, I like surprises.” His voice became a disembodied growl.

Perhaps I got cocky, because I lunged at him again, but this time he got the upper hand. His claws ripping through fabric and the skin of my stomach, then tossing me through a window. I landed hard on my back, gritting my teeth together. I was pulled to the side by Chris Argent, he kneeled down, trying to hide the surprise on his face when he saw my eyes.

Peter grabbed Scott by the collar, lifting him through the air. I tried to get up again but stopped, this new wound from the alpha was making it harder for my body to heal itself. Scott kicked himself off of the alpha, flipping backwards. Peter stumbled back as Scott landed on his knees. The beast prepared to lunge at Scott again when everyone’s heads turned in the direction of a car horn. Jackson’s Porsche pulled up, Stiles and Jackson exiting. He ran forward, throwing a jar towards the beast. Peter caught the jar, growling towards him.

“Oh damn.” Stiles squeaked.

“Allison!” Scott called, throwing Allison her bow. She caught it, loaded and hit her mark. Glass breaking and Peter going up in flames. He roared, trying to put out the flames but because of the chemical reaction, they only continued to rage. He roared, making a final run towards Allison, trying to take her out with him. Scott got in his way, kicking him away. Peter was thrown back, falling on his knees.

Peter Hale fell to the ground, ending his murder spree the way it started - burned and broken. The only thing we could hear was his sputtering and coughing as his lungs fought for air.

“(Y/N)!” Stiles ran forward, hugging me tightly. I grunted as he put pressure on my wound but I hugged him back. I can’t imagine how worried he was, how worried he had been since this whole thing started.

“Wait!” Scott shouted. I pulled away from Stiles, seeing Derek kneeling over Peter, his claws raised. Derek stopped, looking back at him. Derek’s adrenaline was running wild.

“You said the cure comes from the one who bit you. Derek, if you do this, I’m dead. Her father, her family- what am I supposed to do?”

“You’ve… already… decided…” Peter choked out, “I can smell it on you…!” Whether Derek liked it or not, Derek had decided to kill him, finally closing the chapter of justice for Laura.

“Wait! No, no! Don’t!” Scott pleaded, but we all watched Derek slash Peter’s throat and Peter’s last breath slipped out.

“I’m the alpha now.” Derek’s voice was a growl, his eyes red. I started walking towards them when I heard Stiles gasp. He looked down at his shirt, seeing the blood stains that had come from my stomach. I looked down, still seeing the blood and now a black liquid had appeared.

“Well, that’s not good.” I swallowed and stumbled back into what felt like a brick wall. But it was Derek behind me, holding me up. Stiles rushed forward, but stopped short when Derek growled.

“Hey,” I slurred, slapping Derek lightly with the back of my hand, “Stop that. I just need to.. need to lay down.” I closed my eyes, slipping off to sleep.

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

Read part 10 here!

I promise you, it breaks off from the plot of the show eventually.

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