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lonely-lost-soul · 4 years ago

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Of Immortality and Nymphs

(Philza Minecraft x Reader)

Request 2: Just c!philza simping over reader!!

Requested by: Anonymous

(Okay maybe I got a little carried away with this one...)

~~~

He met her for the first time when he was a young man, who barely understood the world around him. Messing with things he shouldn’t was his specialty so when he heard there used to be Nymphs in the nearby forests, he just had to find out if they were extinct or not. Phil flipped through his worn journal and tapped his quill on the paper, he wanted to document his journey to finding the supposedly mythical creature. After all, this was one of his first real adventures all by himself he wouldn’t accept any form of defeat. He popped the cork off the invisibility potion he had and downed it with one swig. Phil, now hidden, wandered into the forest of the last known location, of the last recorded Nymph. Not being visible to the creatures in the forest allowed Phil to take in the beauty of nature around him, he could get close to the animals and see them in their natural habitat. The forest was beautiful, sunlight peeking in through the leaves of the trees, it was magical. He placed his hand on the trees running his hand over the bark with a smile, Phil heard a soft twinkling in his ear, and his head shot up. Always trigger happy he put his hand on his sword, in the middle of a nearby clearing stood a beautiful woman with gorgeous (h/c) hair. Flowers and leaves seemed to be interwoven within the strands, her ears were elf-like in appearance adorned with gold piercings. Her dress flowed in the wind, it was a soft almost translucent green decorated with leaves, in her hand was a baby chick. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, it was clear she was the Nymph that the old stories were talking about, thank god for the invisibility potion.

Pulling out his journal once more he began to sketch a picture of the elegant woman, he didn’t want to forget her face. The man looked up once more to finish up the sketch and the Nymph was gone, he frowned sadly, he did hope he could get to talk to her.

“What’re you drawing?” Phil snapped his notebook shut letting out a startled yelp, he turned to look at the figure beside him. The potion must’ve worn off when he wasn’t looking, however beside him was said Nymph. His jaw almost dropped open, did she have no self-preservation? “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you!” She stepped a few steps back and he held out his arm to stop her.

“No! No, you’re alright!” He put his hand to his heart, “I’m Phil. and you are?”

“(Y/n). Are you human?”

“Tragically,” Phil gave her a little smile as she tilted her head curiously. “Are you a Nymph?” You looked a little hesitant, he watched as your ears twitched in an undeniably cute way. He felt himself melt a little as you gave a nod,

“A Meliae if you want to get specific,” you smiled fondly giving him a teasing wink. Opening his notebook again he scribbled that down next to the figure drawing of you, you sat down in front of him watching in awe, “Is that your language’s written system?” Looking back up at her curious expression Phil once again felt his heartbeat speed up in his chest.

“It is. You’re very clever,” He hummed and was delighted in the way you flushed up to the tips of your ears. You waved him off,

“I’m not that clever. When you’ve been around as long as I have you pick up on certain things,” He watched you carefully as you sat down beside him resting on your knees. Curiously Phil tilted his head,

“How long have you been around?”

“Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a woman her age?” She shot back a grin on her features, oh Phil was in love. Nymphs did tend to have that effect on people, people fall hard and fast for them, but Phil didn’t care.

“My apologies, that was rude of me huh?”

“Very.” She teased with a snicker, “I’ve honestly lost count at this point.”

“You’ve lost track? So you’re immortal then?” Phil’s entire face lit up the excitement prevalent on his features, “Tell me everything.” He pleaded, with a soft laugh you began to share your tale with the man in front of you. Phil was enamored she had lived more lifetimes than he could begin to comprehend, what he wouldn’t do to have that gift. The duo talked long into the evening and well into the next morning, Phil knew he had to head home soon. Not that he had anyone waiting for him back home, but he couldn’t stay with her forever as much as he wanted to. “When can I see you again?” He whispered taking your hands within his own, he couldn’t help but notice how soft they were for someone living in a forest. You hesitantly pressed your finger to his earring,

“They’ll start to glow whenever I’m near. So you can always find me,” You whispered cupping his cheek in your hand, he felt himself lean into it. “I’ll see you soon Phil,” You leaned forward pressing a tender kiss to his lips before disappearing in a flurry of flowers and leaves. Phil let out a shaky breath bringing his fingers to his lips a wild smile appearing across them. He opened his journal one last time adding ‘great kissers’ to his list of things about the Nymph of the forest.

They met many more times after that, and with each meeting, Phil only fell more and more in love with her. He wanted to protect you and keep you safe especially after telling him that Nymphs were hunted for their tears that give immortality but now without the expense of the Nymph. Yet even with his pleading, you wouldn’t leave the forest you called home. You told him maybe one day you could, but you were the only Nymph protecting the forest and you had to stay to protect your home. Ever the gentleman Phil would drop the conversation and steer it into another direction said direction ended with a lot of kissing.

As the years flew by Phil found himself growing older and you remaining the same and as beautiful as ever, he wanted to be immortal with you. He never wanted to lose you, so he made a deal with the God of undying, sacrificing his three lives for one immortal life so he could remain by your side forever. He’d also have to give up part of his humanity, he was bestowed giant black crow-like wings. But he’d do anything so long as he got to be by your side for the rest of eternity. Phil didn’t want to tell you at first, afraid you’d be mad but it was hard to hide giant black wings and the man could never stay far away from you. When he finally saw you again you knew what went down practically immediately. Surprisingly you took it much better than he originally thought, you seemed to flattered beyond belief but also pissed as hell. Desperately you tried to explain to him that immortality wasn’t a gift but a curse, seeing the world change around you while you stay young forever wasn’t as fun as it sounded. The man scoffed, shooting back a comment of his own about how he didn’t want to imagine a world without you by his side. You didn’t deserve to lose someone you loved just because they were mortal and he stood by that.

He watched your face scrunch up, cheeks turning pink at his sentiment. Mostly because you were melting around his words and he knew it too by the smirk evident on his features. Phil locked eyes with you and smiled endearingly,

“I love you.”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Fucking what-” He choked on his spit any argument that started before fizzled out the minute you had told you said those two words to him. He felt his features morphed in surprise before wrapping you in a tight suffocating hug. That only solidified his choices, he made the right decision, he needed to stay by you and your child’s side so long as the universe allowed him to.

However, things weren’t all peaches and rainbows as the world changed to a dark and dismal place once more. Forests were being burned and destroyed and humans once again discovered the existence of Nymphs and wanted to hunt them down for sport. Things were dangerous, way too dangerous for you and the newborn son you shared with Phil. Reluctantly you and Phil came to a decision, to protect your baby you needed to leave, it was the only way to keep them safe. You held the baby close to your chest, tears swelling in your eyes as Phil kissed your cheeks trying to shush you softly. “It’s alright…” His voice was gentle, his big hand caressing the boy’s chocolate brown curls.

“It’s not alright. Phil...I don’t wanna leave you or Wilbur.” Your voice quivered and Phil’s heart shattered in pieces, “But his safety comes first.” You brought the baby up to your lips and kissed his forehead, he giggled sweetly trying to squish his mother’s cheeks. You laughed as he did so, “My sweet, lovely boy. I’ll have to leave you for a while, I don’t want to but you need to be kept safe. I…” Phil frowned watching as you choked up once more, “I’m not safe.” Even through your tears, Phil thought you were beautiful, “You can’t tell him about me…”

“(Y/n) I can’t- That’s just not fair-” You shushed him with a kiss to his lips, passing Wilbur off to him.

“If he’s anything like his father he’ll lose his mind searching for his mother. He needs to live his life.” You reached up holding Phil’s chin on your pointer finger, “He has to live life to its fullest, Nothing can hold him back. It has to stay this way until I can come back. Which I will...hopefully it won’t be too long.” You smiled up at him and Phil took in a shaky breath,

“What if I ruin him.” His voice was painfully tight holding his grip on Wilbur tightening as well, it made the baby squirm. You shushed him softly, pressing a kiss to his lips, his scruff tickling your chin. To him the kisses always felt electric, never devoid of passion and adoration, he leaned forward to chase those addicting lips as you pulled away.

“You won’t ruin him, you’re the most gentle and kind man I’ve ever met. You took care of me all these years, you’ll be amazing for Wilby.” Phil watched as you kissed Wilbur one last time before stepping away with a shaky breath. “Just be as good to him as you are to me,” You both heard the crunch of leaves, it caused you to jump a little looking around the forest frantically.

“Go. We’ll be fine. Just stay safe and come back to us okay?” You could only nod at him before disappearing in a gust of leaves and flowers. Phil felt his heartache and he jolted as Wilbur began to cry seemingly already missing the presence of his mother. “Oh Wilbur hush, hush for me please,” His father pleaded as he began to rock him gently this was going to be a lot harder than he would ever anticipate, but to keep you safe he’d give up the entire world.

~~~

Decades went by, Phil had not only Wilbur to watch over but three more idiotic kids, others adopted of course. Wilbur had grown up into a strapping young man, got married, and had a son, you would be so proud of him. You’d spoil Fundy rotten, he just knew you would, he was sure you’d also spoil Tommy and Tubbo. Not to mention you’d force your motherly affection all over Technoblade and he wouldn’t have a choice but to open up to you.

However, none of them even knew you existed, lies were told about who Wilbur’s mother was when any of them asked and it killed him on the inside to lie about you. Eventually, Wilbur just stopped asking, most likely assuming something bad happened that Phil never wanted to discuss with him. Something far too painful to even tell his son about,

Which was half right he supposed.

It started like any other day, Tommy and Wilbur were messing around with Dream, something about discs and war that Phil didn’t particularly care about. Wilbur had come over once again to plead with Phil for aid in the war, but once again he refused him. This time he even brought Fundy along thinking that seeing his grandson might change the older man’s mind. However, he still refused knowing it wasn’t going to end well in the long run even if Wilbur did win. Sometimes kids had to make their own mistakes to learn about the future. It’s not like he hadn’t told Wil it wouldn’t end well, he did multiple times, but the kid was just as stubborn as he was and wasn’t going to back down.

“Dad, please. If you’d just join in we’d slay Dream and his team, all the fighting will come to an end. The nation I’m trying to create would finally be free and safe. Just help me.” Wilbur pleaded, a small whine slipping into his voice as he followed Phil and his son into the forest, “We can establish our new nation and be free from tyranny. No more war, isn’t that what you keep advocating for?” Wilbur continued to rant, not helping at all with his chores, his voice grew soft suddenly, and Fundy grabbed onto the sleeve of his jacket.

“What is it, kid?”

“Your earring’s glowing pops.” Fundy pointed to his ear and Phil froze in place the wood that he collected falling out of his hands, scattering all over the forest floor.

“Dad?” Wilbur repeated his voice growing louder in concern, Phil looked around the clearing frantically before bolting in a random direction.

“Grandpa!?” Fundy yelled chasing off after him, his tail puffing up anxiously,

“Fundy don’t just run off!”

Phil didn’t stick around to hear them, you were around here somewhere the question was where. His heart was beating erratically in his chest, please, please god let him find you. He didn’t have to wait long, he’d recognize you anywhere you still looked the same. Standing in the middle of a flower field you looked over your shoulder, “(Y/n)! Darling!” He called out choking a little on his words, your (e/c) eyes blew wide and he heard you laugh. You ran up to him flowers growing in your wake, you launched himself at the man and he lifted you in his arms. He spun you around laughing in disbelief, using his wings you both floated in the air, he cradled the back of your head with his hand, “I can’t believe you’re here.” Phil whispered, pulling away to cup your cheeks with your hands, “you’re real.”

“Of course I’m here silly goose. I told you I’d come back didn’t I?” You laughed fondly as he began to pepper your face in kisses, “Even if it is way later than I intended…” You trailed off with a small wince,

“Who cares. You’re here now and you’re safe.” He landed a kiss on your lips as you kissed him back. You tasted just as he remembered like fresh air and oranges, he wanted to swallow you whole. He never wanted to let you go again, and he never would if he had a say in the matter.

“Dad? What the fuck?” Wilbur blurted as Fundy and he came upon the clearing, you pulled away from Phil. Tears filling your eyes, your hands coming up to cover your mouth, Phil rested a hand on the small of your back.

“Wilby…” She whispered, stumbling towards the man reaching out towards him, he raised an eyebrow and flinched away from your touch. You pulled your hand back taking a little breath,

“I’m sorry. How do you know my name?” From behind you, Phil flinched; he knew that’s what you wanted, for him not to remember you. But, fuck he felt guilty about it, he was about to feel even more guilty in a minute.

“She’s your mom Wilbur.”

“Fucking WHAT.” Wilbur sputtered taking a few steps back from the woman, “You told me my mom was a fridge!”

“You told him what.” You turned towards Phil, eyes blazing with annoyance, he held his hands up in surrender. “Why would you tell him his mother was a fridge! I know I told you to lie but a fridge! Phil that’s not even physically possible!” You scolded the man crossing your arms over your chest, his face flushed a bright red. He even missed you yelling and scolding him, he was down bad.

“(Y/n) I panicked-” Phil started to explain and you cut him off with an eye roll. “I’m sorry okay, I love you.”

Meanwhile, Wilbur and Fundy looked in between the two adults rapidly as they talked. Both equally shocked and at a loss for words, Wilbur took a step forward and grabbed your wrist.

“Please continue your explanation,” He commanded softly, “If you are my mom why did you leave? Why haven’t you been here?” Wilbur frowned as he watched you look away from him,

“How much do you know about Nymphs Wilbur?” Wilbur turned bright red and the color reached up onto the tips of his ears, “What?”

“My mom’s a Nymph.” Fundy spoke up in place of Wilbur, “her name’s Sally. I...I’m Wilbur’s son.” He watched your face melt and mouth a broken ‘son?’, Phil noticed and walked up to squeeze your hand. You had missed so much, you hoped you didn’t blame yourself, you and Phil lived too long to live with that many regrets.

“What happened to her?” You asked tenderly,

“Killed.” Wilbur said bluntly, “by hunters. Don’t worry, I made sure to dispose of them.”

“I-I’m so sorry.” You spoke and Wilbur couldn’t help but feel compelled into your arms. Something about you just made him want to melt into your body, he knew Phil was right in the end. You were his mother through and through, I mean the shared pointed ears said enough.

“Is that why you left?” Fundy asked walking over to stand beside Wilbur, Fundy’s ears pressing against his head. They both watched you nod and Phil tightened his grip on your arm, you took in another deep breath. His hand moved to wrap securely around your waist, he was here for you. He’d always be here for you.

“When you were born, the hunters were far worse, there were much more of them. Greater numbers and they sniffed out Nymphs like hunting dogs to a rabbit. I couldn’t keep a newborn baby safe, especially one that was half Nymph...Which probably explains why Fundy’s part fox, he has more Nymph in him.” The fox hybrid seemed to light up at even the inclination that he was special in any way, shape, or form. “It was safer for me to be as far away from the both of you as possible, and I was right considering you grew up into a handsome young man with a family of his own.” You chuckled fondly leaning into Phil’s touch. “But I can understand if you don’t trust me or want to get to know me,” You smiled sadly at the man Fundy spoke up before Wilbur could.

“No! We want to get to know you grandma!” He blurted taking your hands in his own, you melted at the adorable way his eyes lit up. You glanced up at Wilbur who Phil totally wasn’t threatening with his eyes,

“I…” The man looked hesitant, but as he stared into your warm eyes once more he felt encapsulated within them. His longing for a motherly figure in his lips came back at full force and washed over him like a tidal wave. He had a mother and she was safe and here and willing to come back into his life if he was ready.

Was he ready? Why did he feel ready?

“Fuck that hesitance she’s grandma,” You let out a delighted laugh ruffling up Fundy’s hair, his tail wagging elatedly behind him.

“Don’t spoil him, love.”

“Fuck you, I’m spoiling the hell out of my grandson. Gotta make it up to him somehow.” Fundy’s tail only wagged harder as he wrapped you in a tight hug, you hugged him back just as tightly.

“Hey, Hey move over champion. I get to hug my mom now.” Wilbur snapped defensively, as Fundy snickered only looking up at him mischievously hugging you tighter. You laughed in delight seeing Wilbur huff, Phil melted against you in relief. Wilbur’s face was scrunching up the exact way you do when you’re pissed, he smiled against the side of your head. Wilbur pushed his son to the side gently and wrapped his arms around you in a hug, he towered over you but couldn’t help but bury his face in your neck. You cooed softly and ran your fingers through his hair, he was gone the moment you did so, melting in your arms completely.

Without you noticing Phil took a step away from the group just to admire the moment from an outsider’s perspective. For what felt like the hundredth time that hour Phil felt light, he felt like the weight of the world was off his shoulders. Everything was right in the universe again, you were finally holding your not-so-little boy in your arms again after all these years. Even if you did have a fox hanging off you as well, Phil let out a soft chuckle looking at the three with adoration. A long time ago he gave up his mortality and humanity for you, after you left he had pleaded to the gods once more, he swore he would give up anything for just one more day with you by his side. They had ignored his wishes, they knew without a doubt you’d be back in his arms again, and this time he wouldn’t have to give up a single thing.

~~~

Okay but actually I had so much fun writing this??? Maybe even a Pt. II?

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genshingarbage · 3 years ago

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Hiii, Good Morning/Good afternoon/Good evening Mod Kaeya,Mod Diluc^^, It's my first time requesting, Can I request? Angst with any Genshin Impact characters?,Soo The genshin characters are much more spending time with Lumine? Then the reader asks why they aren't spending much time with them and the genshin characters snaps and said the readers are weak ( reader is already insecured because they can't fight) and they have work to do then the reader leaves to fight hilichurl camps and unfortunately there's 2 Mitachurls ,luckly the genshin characters were on time to save the reader? Then they apologized to them? (It's Gn reader^^) sorry if it's alot and sorry if my grammar is wrong you both can disregard this ask stay safe ^^

Good afternoon dear Traveler!! Well done for making your first request! And such a lengthy one too oh my~ Your grammar is fine don’t even worry about it. Sorry for the long wait, Mod Diluc and I have been busy on the Kuzuha banner haha but I hope you enjoy this tear jerking tale (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧- Mod Kaeya

Recommending this song for this oneshot!

Go checkout Anna_drw01 for more art like this!! Here’s her artstation!

The distant scientist, renowned for being hard to get close to was someone you used to consider one of you closest friends. The two of you spent day and night together, hellbent of cracking open every single challenge you possibly could together. Many considered you two to be able to solve any mystery put in front of you together.

The keyword was together.

There was a mystery you yourself couldn’t solve; Why was Albedo’s time with you slowly becoming a rarity?

You’d been wondering why he’d been spending so much less time in the lab he’d meticulously built over years of his life or on site where his precious research was being buried little by little by crystalline flakes, tending to his experiments and recording time sensitive data that would be valuable for months to come for the research team. Albedo had been gone so long both you and Sucrose had designed a plan in order to cover the work he’s left unattended whilst managing your own on top of the store. It was beginning to get concerning. If the leader of the investigation squad was absent constantly then what did that mean for the rest of you? Surely he was only gone for the sake of something important he’d found, something he placed above everything else he was researching. That’s what you lent yourself into believing.

That is, until you saw him with her.

You couldn’t blame him honestly, Lumine was gorgeous. Her golden hair and fiery eyes are what a lot of men probably look for in a partner, even more so was the mystery behind her origins and the raw power she held in her fingertips at any given moment.

You didn’t have to have a vision to be able to tell that.

Maybe that was another thing he sought in her.

A traveling partner that could wield the powers of the elements, a traveling partner that could hold their own against the world. Maybe that wasn’t all he was looking for but also a romantic partner.

He finally came back to the investigation camp briefly one night, it was during a particularly rough blizzard ravaging across Dragonspine and the areas surrounding it a little like a turbulent child tossing snowflakes across already painted, buried monochrome peaks. He trudged into the camp with her rambunctious adventuring party, shouted something over the whipping wind about how they should get warm inside one of the communal tents dotted around the sparse camp halfway up the summit you inhabited and then ducked into the burgundy tent you were working away in with nothing but the clinking of vials harmonizing with the bubbling of flames. It was nothing but candle light right then in the morbid lonely night, only the sounds of the howling gales outside of the ones in your lab. If you’d felt like you were being watched during the night before now, Albedo’s piercing analytical gaze did nothing but soothe the loneliness you’d held inside yourself all night.

“I need a strong multi use Geoculus locator, if we have any.” The blonde said

He must’ve seen your shoulders perk up because he waited patiently as you searched through the shelves upon shelves of prototypes you’ve developed. After somehow finding one, you patted over to him. He seemed pleased with your work, if a bit distant as usual. He was in a good mood so you guessed would be the best time if any to ask. “Sir… with all due respect why have you been away so long?”

Albedo’s pale face was blank as usual though he blinked as if surprised you spoke, “Lumine needed someone with a sufficient Geo vision, I happened to be the one she knew the best to get the job done.”

“So you’ll be returning?”

“I never said that.”

You tried not to take it harshly, this was just how he spoke after all. “…could I come along then?” It was a long shot yes but you still missed his company, if it meant having to deal with him getting buddy buddy with that Outrider then you would suffer.

It was quiet for a moment between you two as you stared him down and he observed the locator thoroughly. After he was pleased enough with the golden glowing device it was packed away into his back pocket without so much as a second thought, the man was obviously stalling while he thought carefully over the question but the result wouldn’t be to your liking evidently. You were about to make a point you hoped would be convincing before he spoke, his voice sharp and words cold like the very ice being tossed around the blackened sky.

“No, you’re not a skilled enough fighter so you’d only slow us down more than we can handle to be right now. You’d be useless to us.” He put a hand to his chin for a moment in thought, “If you’d had been able to development a synthetic elemental burst like Sucrose’s swirl mark II…I would have considered but you can’t even do that.”

Watching him leave with them the morning after was torturous, they rushed off into the snowy landscape with barely a goodbye and never a second glance from Albedo beyond that. It stung.

Maybe that’s why when hilichurl camps, specifically ones becoming a nuisance to caravans as well as supply lines along Dragonspine almost avidly to the near point where there would be commissions called in, were brought up in conversation you elected to take a weapon and simply clear them out yourself. You could barely fight one off but usually they were smaller towards the base of the mountain so you figured it would be alright. You would just patch yourself up if you got a bit injured. Surely the pain of the injures would busy your silly little heart long enough to forget about Albedo and his cruel words to you, surely you would barricade your feelings of pining behind walls of broken bones and struggling through the snow. Maybe that was the remedy, the answer you needed to your mystery. Your pleas would probably be hidden by the snowstorms anyways.

Mitachurls unfortunately inhabited bigger camps. Thankfully, Frost Lawlichurls tended to live alone. The former happened to find it’s way to you, charging with the might of a bull on ozmanthys wine. As you were bowled over you heard an abrupt shout, maybe saw a brief flash of familiar golden light as the battle grounds around you erupted further into chaos but it didn’t matter that pale arms were abruptly gripping you to a panicked sword user. Your vision was to blurry, the shouts of attacks and spells too muffled and faint, your body felt too limp to comprehend even the though of moving. You could barely breathe.

Someone was muttering, crouched around you and holding you close, muttering something over and over again. Something important. The feeling of their lips pressed against your forehead, his quiet gut heaving sobs as he rocked you back and forth. Albedo’s pleas for you to just hang on a moment longer—

Where were you again?

There was sunlight and it was warm, a pleasant warmth that almost lulled you back to the sleep you’d fallen into. The only thing that kept you awake was that this was indeed not your bed.

Where were you?

Sitting up hurt, your whole body ached and you were certain something must have been rearranged or was missing because the pain shot through you like an arrow. Your sharp exhale alerted the two others in the room, one who immediately sprinted to get a nurse in an emerald and navy flurry of skirts and capes.

You were dizzy, only steadied by a gentle hand on your limp shoulder. Ah, when did you turn to face him?

The blonde man infront of you asked if you remembered what happened, his voice was soft but didn’t hold any emotion. The smoky circles around his beautiful striking cerulean eyes did nothing but worry you slightly as they implied a long period of time without sleep. You’d imagine him to be the sciency type who didn’t really know what to think of other people so he stayed nose deep in books to pass the time, though there was a deep sadness in the way he held himself you couldn’t understand.

“I don’t…who are you?” You thought you saw him flinch but figured it was a trick of the light.

“No one important, nevermind me.” The man sat up with an unreadable expression even for how blank it had been for this whole brief conversation after you had awoken, getting up from his chair to begin walking to the door when he stopped. “I’m sorry.”

“…for what?” You didn’t understand.

“Nothing that would natter now, please. Rest.”

You didn’t remember.

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suffering-and-happy-about-it · 3 years ago

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Party at Barbie’s (Love Lies, Part 3.)

“Funny how one stranger stepped in. Made up all these changes, for the better.” - Movements, Pham

Description: Carcrash, coma, drug usage, partying, heartbreak… You’ve been there. After 18 months of “corrective” stay at your grandmother’s in Minnesota, it’s time for you to move back to East Highlands. Yet, it was to be expected that while some things change, some stayed the same.

A/N: I was planning on Maddy being the pain in the ass, but then I kinda changed my mind. I actually genuinely think she can be a wonderful friend, when she has a person that can bring out the best of Maddy. Also, keep in mind that the reader is properly fucked up during this part and Rue is also under the influence. So, don’t worry, we’ll get into the real “conflict” later.

Word counter: 4.7 K

Tagging: @comedinewithmeyeh @jeyramarie (tagging for the series is opened, just reply to the part or smth)

Masterlist: H E R E

Putting pieces of furniture together in your new place was nothing short of fun - Archie plugged his phone into a charger, letting it play song after song while you tried to understand the manual you got along with the furniture; you also managed to squeeze some dancing and eating take out into the meantime.

Jules came to join you every time she wasn’t at school, making sure she’s capturing the entire process on camera. By the end of the building process (mind you - you only had a bad and a small wardrobe), she had her gallery filled with selfies, pictures of Archie kissing you as you read through the manual with a furrow, of her and you holding various pieces of wood in your hands with expressions of absolute Ooga Booga cavemen and much more. As per usual, Jules posted the best pictures on her Instagram.

Yet there still was this one thought on the back of your head the entire time. No matter how hard you tried to avoid it, the party at Barbie’s was coming closer and closer; eventually, you were standing in front of the bathroom mirror and watched your outfit, finishing the last details of your make-up. Sure, you didn’t have to show up, but you could imagine how Maddy herself would repay you such hospitality. And you didn't want to explain the entire history of you, Maddy, and Fezco to Archibald either.

To start at the begging, so Archie could even comprehend what happened in East Highlands two years ago, you’d have to start explaining the very beginning. Who even was Maddy Perez? This was also a question many asked. You'd personally describe her as the devil, that would be your immediate answer; a devil in angel’s disguise. You’ve never seen anyone more innocent-looking than Maddy; as long as she tried to keep her mask on, hiding the real Maddy somewhere under the perfect hair, makeup, nails, and outfit. To your luck, Maddy never seemed to specifically dislike you - you’ve never had the opportunity to see her at her worst. But you’ve heard how the worst looks like.

How did you get to know her?, Archibald would ask. Well, she was a classmate of yours, having a troubled past with your best friends, mainly Jules. The past heavily involved her boyfriend Nathan; maybe it was more suiting to say Maddy's ex-boyfriend? You couldn’t tell, to be honest. All you knew was that Nathan did something nasty and ever since then, he wasn’t much more than Maddy’s chess piece. What kind of information she had on Nathan you didn’t know, honestly, but it must’ve been fucking freaky and personal. It was Maddy herself who saved your ass on the night a man was murdered.

Murdered?, Archie would ask once more, without a clue. Why would you have anything to do with that man's death? Everything, you’d sigh, every fucking thing. You were the reason Mouse ended up with a bullet inside of his brain, bleeding out inside the apartment. Again, the situation you talked about wasn’t simple to navigate through; to understand why Fezco shot that motherfucker, you’d need to explain how you oh so recklessly allowed Mouse to give you a drug. On the other hand, if you hadn’t taken it, you could’ve been ended up dead too. To explain how you even ended up in that place, you’d have to talk about things that were fucking you up. Such as Fran’s on and off addiction story, how she acted when she got high and how horrifying and dangerous it was to stay near Fran in that state.

The night was a bug conclusion of fear, rushed decisions, and love; as Fezco said later. He did it all for love. Which, at the time it all went down, you'd believed. To explain this explanation, you'd have to talk about whatever the fuck you and Fez had... And you didn't have the energy to sit through hours of talking, making sure Archie sees the story from every angle. You'd just rather fucking go on a stupid ass high school party and drink some alcohol than turn it down just because you knew what people you can bump into. That was also when Archie opened the bathroom door, sticking his head in. "Are you sure that you want to go? You don't seem to be too thrilled about it." - The boy wondered, watching as you finished your mascara. You were supposed to pick up Jules on the way to Barbie's in twenty minutes, you had to hurry up a bit.

"Hm, I'm just a bit tired. I can't wait to dance with Jules and Kat and to drink a few shots. The offer still stands?" - With a smile, you put the mascara away and kissed Archie's cheek, giggling when you saw a stain of lipstick sticking onto his face. - "Which one?" "The one where you oh, so kindly offered to be the one sober friend who will drive all of the drunk bastards home." "I think so, yeah. Only if I get a kiss, or no deal for you, missy." - Hearing that, you smiled even more and tiptoed to hug the boy by the back of his neck and kissed him tenderly. - "Fine, the offer stands." "I'll take it, kind sir. Knowing Kat, she'll want to drink the whole fucking bar Barbara has at home."

Not too long after that, you were sitting inside your car with a few bottles of alcohol on your backseat as you watched the city through the window, looking at all the buildings passing you by. Jules was talking about something connected to Rue, but honestly, you weren't listening to a single word. It was 7 pm and as soon as you saw Barbara's house in the distance. Oh, fuck, everything looked like it did when you left the city; a shit ton of cars parked in front of the house, people smoking inside, in front of the and all over the property, drunk girls and boys who were trying to get inside their panties, a lot of laughter and drugs smothered everywhere. Yes, you were positive to identify this as an East Highland party.

As all three of you walked into the house, you were cluelessly looking around, holding Archie's palm and the paper bag in the other hand. Jules was smiling wildly, which couldn't be said about you. If you thought there were a lot of drug users outside the house, you now had the opportunity to see all the lines of coke being all over the place, the house smelled of weed, cigarettes, alcohol, perfume, sweat, and sex. There were, by your estimation, at least two hundred people scattered everywhere. Just a few seconds after entering the house, you could see panties hung on the chandelier, three pairs of boobs, and one hard dick. Holy motherfucking shit... You missed that place. Feeling yourself smiling, you added your bottles to the alcohol collection on the main counter while Jules worked on pouring you double shots.

The music was so loud that you could barely hear what she screamed at you before you both drank your shots, Archie watching you both with amusement. Feeling alcohol, especially hard liquor, inside your mouth after two years made you almost throw; trying to keep it all in, you grinned, bit your bottom lip, and held tight onto the counter in front of you. Both of the idiots patted your shoulder as if you just accomplished something wonderful. Soon, your time perception of time began to crumble under the number of shots Jules encouraged you to drink, the music quickly became louder and more danceable. The last thing you did at least half-sober was that you gave your phone to Archie, kissing him as Jules dragged onto the improvised dancefloor on the back terrace. While you tried to perform various dance creations, some dudes watched porn on their phones and other people decided to grill some midnight burgers. Sliding a bit while Jules laughed, you looked up a bit... And there she was. There she fucking was.

Rue Bennet in all her glory, with her confused and vulnerable gaze. You knew she saw you because she stood still on the stairs, holding the railing inside her palm with her mouth half-opened - and she knew you saw her as well because your smile disappeared in an instant as your expression got more serious. She was looking... It was hard to tell in all the flashing lights, standing between all of the drunk, loud people. You surely remembered days of Rue's past glory; you remembered a wonderful best friend who made you laugh, who hugged you as if her life depended on it, who would give the entirety of heaven if you simply asked for it. That girl you knew such a long time ago knew all of your secrets, everything you were ashamed of, she knew your favorite song and she landed you her hoodies when you asked for them. You also remembered someone who looked healthy, with full cheeks and a nice, tall body.

This version of Rue looked more messy, untidy, and tired, almost spiteful. Her face seemed to be too pale, lifeless and her eyes were empty. Fuck, you realized as your shoulder bumped into Jules' chest, making her stop in her tracks as well. At that moment, Rue jumped off the stairs and disappeared into the crowd; it was Maddy who covered your vision of Rue. "Something told me ya'll be here." - Maddy smiled sweetly as she gave you a cup of something. Whatever it was, it stank like hell; but you knew that all three of you will have to take that shot. - "Nice to see all of my bitches together, looking their best. This is on the house." - With a wicked smile, she gave another cup to Jules. - "I fucking thought you're fucking dead, but you just roll back in here looking like a fucking snack. I bet you'll give that idiot a fucking boner when you walk by. I wanna toast." - The girl giggled. The longer she talked, the less your smile seemed real. Knowing that the idiot she meant wasn't supposed to be Archibald made you put your palm to a fist, digging your nails into your skin. This also assured you that Fezco and Ashtray are somewhere along all of the people. - "To this insane motherfucker for coming back home."

Knowing you have to drink whatever was inside the cup, you just forced yourself to drink all of that in one attempt, immediately gulping it down. Shit. As soon as the liquor touched your tongue, you started to cough, covering your mouth with your elbow. Jules let out a long exhale, looking at Maddy, who didn't seem to be phased by the drink. "What the fuck?" - The blonde asked, laughing as you tried to catch your breath. - "Oh God, yo I forgot you probably don't know how to drink anymore, bitch. You good?" - Maddy took the cup out of your hand, gently patting your shoulder. It took you another minute until you could walk again. Jules and Maddy both watched you struggling to keep your shit together, giggling at the faces you made.

"Thanks for the warm welcome Maddy. I really appreciate it." - With that, you went for a hug to really show her. Sure, from all the situations you remembered, Maddy usually wasn't that much of a physical person with her friends (and you still even weren't her friend, just were just an almost random someone she knew), but given you were both a bit tipsy at that point, she hugged you back. Jules herself knew it could be unusual for Maddy to be so kind, selfless, and nice to someone outside her best friend, but Maddy was about to say something very real - a lot has changed ever since you left the town. "I just wanted to make sure Nathan knows what side you're on." - The girl in your arms confessed as she stepped away from you, giving you another wicked smile. - "A lot has changed when you were gone, princess. I don't know why I feel sorry for you, bitch, but you remind me of myself, I have that connection to you, yannow? You've been through some shit, you saw some shit and your boyfriend was a fucking piece of trash. I just wanna make sure that fuckhead won't even dare to fuck this new start and everything for you, 'cause you're thriving and happy." - And this was exactly what made you stop in your tracks. Maddy gently held your palms in hers, staring into your eyes.

This meant, amongst other things, that Maddy and Nate were not an item anymore. Given the proud smile on Jules' face, she had a role in it as well; this was, honestly, the best fucking news you heard all day. Nathan was a controlling piece of narcissistic shit and with the personality Maddy had, they were like a package of TNT. This news was genuinely the best one you heard so far. In all fairness, it was also easily understood why Jules didn't tell you (simply because it wasn't her place to tell you other people's personal businesses. Drama and personal business were two very different things and that was something people had to learn how to differentiate.

The other meaning this bore was that Maddy liked you to some degree. She didn't view you as her enemy, she didn't view Rue nor Jules that was. Fuck, were they friends now? Did that mean that the girl who would cut your throat if you looked at Nate funnily two years ago was now brand new and changed? It was hard to believe, but if it was the truth, you couldn't even describe how happy you were for her. There wasn't much that could or needed to be said. The only thing you did was that your smile widened a bit, letting her know everything you couldn't say without a word. Perez simply nodded and let your hands go, turning on her heels. "I gotta go, but it's nice knowing you're here. Both of you better stay safe and hit me up some time so we can hang out bitches." - And with that, Maddy was gone again. Sure, most of it could be tipsy ramblings, but there was something hidden and personal in what she had said, something that stuck with you. She wasn't unnecessarily unhappy, but Perez wasn't a happy person either. She was who she was. As she left you standing there, there was something that made you smile.

"Did I get invited here..." - You mumbled as you poured another drink, watching Jules preparing her vodka and sprite. - "Because Maddy Perez thinks that I'm her friend?" "She was right, you know. Just because we're still best friends doesn't mean that the city is in the same state it was when you left it. Nate and Maddy broke up for good, me and Rue stopped seeing eye to eye, I heard there was some shit going down between Cassie, Maddy, Nate and McKay, and even Fez..." - Saying that name, Jules stopped herself to look at you. Hearing his name, you furrowed a bit, but it didn't entirely upset you. Yet knowing he's there, among them when you were drunk, was better than meeting him sober. This way, you could at least put a mask on. Nonetheless, Jules decided not to talk about him anymore. - "Everything is different. Kinda... Kinda ruthless. But she's glad you're back. When we met her at the gas station, she asked me if it's a good idea... You know... To invite you. I told her it's the best idea she had that week." - Hearing that, you put everything down and looked Jules in her eyes. The girl was smiling back at you while sipping on the Sprite; not for long tho. Soon, you were hugging her as you put your head on her shoulder, closing your eyes. Jules really was the best friend anyone could ever have.

The night was going by with an unstable, weird, yet somewhat enjoyable time continuum - sometimes everything just sped past you - just like when you and Maddy (who was into that idea immediately after you sent her a text) played beer pong against Kat and Jules; and sometimes there was this tranquility and peace, making everything stop for a second; just like when you sat on the backyard of the house. All of you were sat on logs positioned around a big fireplace, you were dressed in Aiden's hoodie as the boy himself hugged your shoulder. Everything slowed down as you chatted and watched the flames.

Sometime later, it was hard to tell how much later, while your gaze was still stuck somewhere between the flames, all of your friends decided to go back in for some more booze, leaving you sitting outside all alone with a cigarette in your palm. Time passed by, you sipped on your liquor, and people around you came and left; until one person sat there longer than the others. Which is was also why the person next to you caught your attention. God Help you, you fucking knew who sat there before you even saw them. Lazily, you turned your head to look at her. It was Rue herself with her pitiful, spiteful look. As she sat next to you, both her palms were pushed deep inside the pockets of her hoodie as her leg bounced around. She looked so... Tired. The silence was becoming more and more uncomfortable until Rue finally spoke out loud.

"Didn't know you're back." - The girl mumbled and you could just tell that she's more fucked up than you were. It was the alcohol possibly combined with drugs, you guessed. Not responding, you just furrowed into the flames, nodding. - "Thought I'd deserve to fucking know that." "We haven't spoken in a year and now you're gonna be bitching about me being a cunt for not letting you know after you just disappeared? Nice joke. Got a cig?" - You asked without any emotion on your face. Rue didn't stop at what you said, she just gave you a cigarette. "Why are you even back? To fuck around before you leave again?" - Well, hold the fuck up. That was news for you. As you breathed out the smoke, you looked at the profile of her face. Rue was sitting next to you, high as fuck, but she wasn't only high... She was also vulnerable and sad. The girl was hurt. But you weren't about to give her anything for free. Snickering, you turned your head back to look into the flames. "'Cause my family kinda lives here in case you didn't notice." "Makes sense. You look fucking... I think I haven't seen you happier." - At that, Rue looked at the tip of her shoe. Her leg was widely bouncing up and down as the nervousness got the better out of her. To the surprise of both of you, you just started laughing.

"So, that's why we stopped talking and that’s why you’re high as a fucking kite?" - You sighed. - "'Cause you thought I wasn't happy here and assumed that I’m much happier somewhere else with different people?" "Listen, I don't even know why and if I... I have no clue man, I was just fucked up at that time. I was in a bad place." "So the place you're at now is any better? You fucking better think about the reason, then, cause you're the one who decided that not responding to any of the messages is better than calling me and hearing me tell you how much I love my best friend. And not only that, but you decided that relapsing is a much better idea than talking it through. Get the fuck up, Bennet." - Saying that, you sprung on your feet and threw the rest of the cigarette into the firepit. Rue was suspicious at first, sitting on top of the log as you offered her your palm.

“Are we gonna fight?” - The girl asked with seriousness. Sure, for all the nerve and audacity she got, you’d love to pack her a few punches, but deciding against it was probably much better. What would it bring except you getting rid of some of your anger? “Sure, I’m going to kick your boney ass into a fucking square. Come on.” - Again, you offered her your palm, smiling this time. - “Have you ever seen me packing a punch? Dude, I’d break my wrist.”

Finally, this seemed to break Rue’s suspicions and spite as the girl caught your palm with a nervous grin, letting you lead her onto the dancing crowd. Sure, this peace offering wasn't about to last for too long, which you both knew, but you decided to ignore all of it. Since you were both clueless about what to do, you caught her waist and palm, dancing a simple waltz. It was awkwardly cute. This also seemed to be somewhat assuring for the girl as she laughed, making you spin around. It didn’t take long until you broke all the social rules just like you did back in the day, moving in a lascivious borderline erotic way; your ass was splayed all over her crotch as her hands moved around your head, impersonating shooting guns. For a second, just a for a short stupid fucking second, it felt like you never left; neither of you was scared of dancing (since you were higher than Empire State) and you weren't worried about inappropriately touching each other - Rue holding your ass was usually just the beginning. And now, it felt that way. As the songs switched, Rue put her hands above her head, letting you go as she squealed, starting to rap each word of a 2Pac song with all the passion she got. It was so funny and impressive that you just moved around facing her, clapping in the rhythm. It also caught other people's attention, since neither of them exactly knew that Rue had some degree of obsession with remembering useless pieces of information, such as rap song lyrics.

Whoever was that drug-abusing wench in control of Rue, this assured you that your Rue is still somewhere inside of there, alive and surviving through all the hardships. Sure, she was hidden somewhere deep inside of that vessel, but as long as you managed to lure her out for a moment, there was a chance of saving her. It won’t be an easy task, you knew what; but there was still some chance of succeeding. As the song ended, you clapped cheerfully and laughed once more, being on clouds nine while Rue bowed with all the grand gestures that were oh so typical for her. People clapped for a bit before everyone shifted their attention back to their dance partner. “I gotta figure out something with Ash, wanna come with?” - Rue yelled to your ear so you could hear her over the music after you left the dance floor hand in hand. No hesitation, you nodded and squeezed her hand a bit as she led you through the house.

The lights were blinking in such a rhythm that everything inside appeared in a much better light and angle; people seemed less drunk, they seemed happy and attractive. Each of the erotic dance moves, like girls squeezing their boobs or rubbing their asses on someone’s dick, made you amused and quite frankly, a bit thirsty. It was that time of the night you loved the most; it was when the alcohol finally kicked in, making your body move like caramel and mind foggy as you listened to all the offers of hand jobs, blowjobs and quickies. They made you giggle while you held Rue’s hand, following her deeper into the house. Not too long after you noticed that you were once again approaching the door leading to the firepit. Looking around at all these young fuckable people, you felt someone staring at you. You couldn’t name exactly who was it, but you had that feeling on the back of your head. Turning around, you finally looked the person in their eyes, seeing as they followed both you and Rue through the drunken crowd.

Fuck. That was the only word on your mind. Fuck, you didn’t remember those blue eyes being as deep as they appeared amidst all the flickering lights. He looked good - without a single doubt in your mind, you could objectively say that Fezco looked great. To be honest, one of the photos you hid in archives of your phone wasn’t making him enough justice. As the rime passed by, you managed to forget how gentle the gaze of his eyes is, how his features shift when he smiles and how heartwarming can that gaze be. Without hesitation, you smiled back at the man, feeling an undeniable feeling of warmth wash over your body. You were glad to see him after such a long time. The thing making you worried was your heart thumping heavily for a fragment of a second there; making your cheeks warm and your breathing shallow. Fezco just had his charm, even after all that time when you finally thought you moved on.

Turning your head back at Rue’s back, you were grinning as you both walked out into the coldening night hand in hand.

And a few seconds after, it happened.

——

Jules was standing close to the table, chatting with Archie and Lexi, laughing at one of his jokes; they h. But then, something she caught by the corner of her, caught her full attention. Within seconds, her heart dropped and her expression reflected worries. What did she see?

Well, it was her best friend holding hands with Rue, following her out of the house as she smiled at her former boyfriend over her shoulder, just like the night they first met. Without hesitation, Jules put her cup down, ready to follow out of you outside; there was a slight chance that Rue might’ve talked you down to something fucking stupid that could be connected to getting high to some degree. If Rue herself was a junkie and Jules’ mother being, all the same, it was incredibly easy to make herself believe this sort of crap. Inside her head, there was nothing easier than getting addicted - and that long path could've easily been started with one night, with a party just like that. “This can't be good.” - Jules mumbled, making both Archibald and Lexi aware of the situation; both of them turned their heads to you as you walked out, Fezco following shortly after. Lexi, just as she saw what was happening, sprung on her feet and started running towards the exit. The blonde girl sighed and grabbed Archie's hand, dragging him along. - "What's going on? Who are these people and why are you both worried?" "Just don't ask anything and come with me, we really need to keep an eye out for Y/N right fucking now."

As the trio got to the door, then it happened. Rue stood there in shock and stared down the hill while you screamed like a hurt animal, loud and with pain. For a second, you kneeled in the wet grass with tears in your eyes, mouth opened, and tensed muscle expression, not being to move for a second as your drunken brain tried to process what happened. For a reason, you looked like you wanted to scream even more because you mourned; just as if you lost your parent or a person that was very close to you. In the next second, you got all your knees and ran down the hill, Fezco following shortly after.

Only Bennet kept on standing there in utter shock, almost falling to the ground when you pulled her hand, looking down at the place where it happened.

#Rue bennet euphoria #euphoria season 2 #maddy perez #jules vaughn #euphoria hbo #euphoria #rue bennet #fezco euphoria #fezco x fem!reader #i love jules honestly #i mean she has her flaws #but i'd love to her best friend #hunter is also so fucking pretty

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spideyhexx · 4 years ago

Text

take a chance on me - b.b.

here's something I wrote for @buckyblues 4k writing challenge! I've been wanting to get back into writing, so here's my first go at it :)

using the song prompt "take a chance on me by abba." @edenslibrary

be sure to let me know what you think :) reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated 😊

bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky has a crush on you. he's doubtful of himself, messes up, but turns it around.

WARNINGS: sfw. fluffy. some tiny tiny angst. bucky being self deprecating. huge hate of chekhov. bookstore owner!reader.

word count: 2.3k

Bucky replays his conversation with you a billion times within the couple of minutes it takes for him to walk from the quaint little book shop to his apartment.

After his favorite bookstore closed, Bucky took to finding a new one and stumbled upon the Murky Lime. He thought the name was strange, a little off putting, but as soon as he walked in, Bucky knew he was going to enjoy spending his afternoons there. It always smelled like hazelnut or vanilla, a scent he found so incredibly comforting that he bought a hazelnut scented candle for his home. Although it was a small shop, the shelves were loaded with books and he was able to find a hidden corner to sit down and read for a couple of hours, unbothered.

Not to mention the pretty girl that worked at the main desk and seemed to be the owner. You were there every afternoon that Bucky stopped by. He noticed how you would paint your nails when there weren’t as many customers. How kind your words were to anyone who asked for help. It took him a couple of weeks to work up the courage to ask you to help him find a book, even though he knew exactly where it was.

Bucky remembers when he complimented your bracelet and you smiled, stuttering out a thank you. The first time he saw you nervous. It gave him hope that maybe you were into him, but Bucky pushed away those thoughts as quickly as they came.

He couldn’t fathom how someone would truly want to be with him. Besides, he had enough on his plate, what with helping Sam on whatever mission he called him on and dealing with the occasional nightmare that haunted his mind.

That’s why he keeps on replaying the conversation. And cursing at himself for being so stupid.

…

“Hey Bucky!” Your words were cheerful, causing heat to rise up on his cheeks. You loved how a simple greeting seemed to get him all flustered. He’s still not used to even hearing his name come from your lips.

“How’re you doing, doll?” He lets the endearment slip, hoping he’d get to see you smile, and you do, before turning away and pointing at a box.

“I’m alright! And if you don’t mind, and you can totally say no, but I got a whole new set of Chekhov plays and I need to bring them to the play section, which is the furthest point from here and the box is a bit too heavy and I was going to make multiple trips but now you’re here and-”

“Of course I’ll help,” Bucky responded, chuckling at your babbling. You sighed, secretly hating your rambling habit, but it was hard not to when a handsome man was standing in front of you.

“I thought you hated Chekhov?” Bucky asked, picking up the box and following you to the play section.

“Oh I do, but a customer has been calling in for the last three weeks, asking if we have Chekhov and I thought I should finally put my Chekhov hating ass aside to appease the people who adore him,” you told him.

You couldn’t remember when you told Bucky you hated Chekhov, but you did not necessarily need to say it for someone to understand your distaste for the author.

“Or they could’ve just gone to a different bookstore,” Bucky mumbled, but you heard and let out a laugh. He put the box down and leaned against the opposite book shelf, hoping you would continue talking to him as you put the books away.

“So, I had another question for you,” you said, sneaking one glance at him before looking away.

“Go for it.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime? Not sure where but we could just go get some coffee? Or go out to dinner?”

This was it, the penultimate moment Bucky had been dreaming about ever since he laid eyes on you. Yet his mouth began speaking before he could really take it in.

“Um, no,” he said, immediately widening his eyes at your expression. Your mouth dropped to say something, but you weren’t sure what to even say.

“I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think I can, right now, maybe?” You raised an eyebrow at him and smiled softly.

“It’s okay to say no, Bucky.”

“I know that, I know. I think I’m just not ready right now,” he said, his voice quieter as he said the last part. His brain was screaming at him to retract everything he had just said to you and to tell you he would go on a date, but Bucky could not do it. He already felt like he had failed and saw no point in trying.

“That’s okay. But...if you ever change your mind, let me know, I’d still be down,” you said.

You were slightly disappointed, but understood his reasoning even if he didn't give you an exact one.

Ever since he first came to your shop, you knew exactly who the tall, blue eyed man was. It was hard trying to comprehend everything James Bucky Barnes had gone through. You knew asking him out might’ve been a big step from having occasional small talk. A small part of you hoped he would take a chance on you someday.

...

Bucky throws his jacket haphazardly onto the couch as soon as he gets home, not caring that it ends up falling to the floor. He lights the candle on the kitchen counter and collapses onto the couch face first, letting out the sigh that was building up in him ever since he left the Murky Lime.

How could he do that? Was he actually not ready to date? He told himself he wasn’t, that’s why he felt like he had to say no to your date. But god, does Bucky want to go out with you and hold your hand and kiss your cheek. He hasn’t felt this feeling in a long while.

All the therapy sessions with Dr. Raynor flood his mind. The ones where she encouraged him to try dating and finding new friends but he brushed it off, feeling like he was unworthy of it. How could a sweet girl like you see something in him, he simply did not understand it. But you liked him enough to ask him on a date and he fucking said no.

Bucky sends Sam a quick text that’s more like an entire paragraph explaining the situation and what he should do. He throws his phone to the other side of the couch and drops his head into his hands. His phone pings a few seconds later and Bucky scrambles to grab it.

I think you’re just afraid of dating buck. You’re definitely ready, you’ve done so much work to be yourself again and I’ve seen that in you. If you like her AND she mentioned still going out if you changed your mind??? Go get her, man. Take the chance. If it doesn’t work out and you really aren’t ready, then that’s okay too. But it’s clearly eating you up that you said no, so just go to her.

...

You button up your coat and stuff your phone into your pocket, straining your head to the side to double check the time. Closing the store required a particular routine that you perfected, but you did not expect to see Bucky’s face at the front door. He did not notice you looking at him and you see the hesitation in his hands before he opens the door.

“Hey,” he says, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Hello again.” Bucky gives you a stiff grin and rocks on his feet for a few moments. The silence is deafening and it’s just about too awkward for you to handle.

“Is there uh..something you want?” He glances up and your eyes lock with his pretty blue eyes. You feel like you could gaze into them all day.

“Yeah, if you’re still up for it, I would like to go on that date with you. I’ve been afraid to put myself out there, but you’re so kind and beautiful..” his words trail off and he’s distracted for a moment at how you’re biting your lip nervously.

“I wanted to take a chance, so yes, let’s go on a date.”

“Do you wanna go now?” Bucky raises his brow and nods. You run to the back door to make sure it’s locked. When you come back, you see that Bucky took it upon himself to turn a few of the lights off and he hands you your purse.

“What a gentleman, huh?” He blushes and moves to open the door for you. You lock it up and turn to him.

“Does a walk in the park sound like a good idea?”

“Perfect.”

Since it was almost evening time, the park was not as busy. Bucky prefers it that way, and you do too. He’s so close to you, you can smell the little bit of cologne he must’ve put on. You want to tease him for it but decide not to. Instead, you purposely brush your hand against his own and Bucky immediately takes your hand in his.

“Maybe after this we could get dinner,” Bucky suggests.

“That would be nice. You can pick where.” Bucky thinks for a moment before responding.

“There’s this diner..a couple of blocks from your shop actually. It was there back in….you know.” Now that he’s thinking about it, he wasn’t sure you knew. He doesn’t wear gloves to hide his vibranium arm anymore and it’s an easy google search but you never showed any indication you knew about his past.

“I know about your past, Bucky. I won’t ask anything about it if-”

“No, it’s okay. I can talk about it.”

You nod. You're not planning to scour his brain about the haunting details of his life as the Winter Soldier, but you were curious about his life before that.

“Does it look the same as it did back then? The diner, I mean.”

“For the most part. There’s some newer technology in there and updated furniture but the style is all the same. It’s kind of nice to go somewhere familiar.”

The two of you walk over to an empty bench and take a seat. Your hands are still intertwined, resting on Bucky’s thigh.

“One more question about the 30s and 40s and then we can head on over to the diner,” you say, making Bucky laugh and nod his head at you to continue.

“How were dates back then? Like would you do the same thing we’re doing now or was there anything different?”

“It’s mostly the same,” he tells you. Bucky looks down at your hand, admiring how you rub your thumb against his hand.

“But there were these dances. I haven’t seen anything like them nowadays.”

“I think the closest thing we have to that is nightclubs. I’m gonna assume that is not your scene,” you say, giggling at his disgusted expression.

“It isn’t. I like forties music. I tried to listen to newer stuff and it’s not all terrible, but still not my favorite. I don’t think anyone in a nightclub will play Tommy Dorsey or Dinah Shore.” You ponder that for a moment as he turns to observe what else is going on in the park.

Quickly, you take out your phone.

“What are you doing?” All you do is smile at him, setting your phone down on the bench and standing up in front of him. He raises an eyebrow suspiciously as you hold your hand out.

“Mr. Barnes, can I have this dance?” Bucky takes a look around. There were a few people around who seemed to not take notice of the music coming from your phone.

“Gladly,” he accepted, taking your hand. Bucky placed one hand on your hip and pulled you in closer to him.

“I must admit, I know this was my idea, but I don’t know how to dance,” you whisper to him. Bucky shakes his head, smiling so wide he thought his mouth would start hurting. He slowly moves his feet side to side.

“Just this is fine,” he mutters. He tries not to take his eyes off yours, but you’re so close and Bucky can’t help but look at your lips, slightly parted and letting out deep breaths. He moves your hand rest on his shoulder, both of his own now holding your hips.

You trail your fingers from his shoulder to behind his neck, clasping your hands there.

“Thank you for this,” Bucky says and he hums along to the song playing, ‘Be Careful, It’s My Heart’ by Frank Sinatra. You smile at it, so he keeps humming. Bucky leans his forehead against yours.

“I know it’s not perfect-”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s with you. And this is...it’s nice.” You feel like your heart is going to burst. His eyes keep flitting down to your lips and Bucky leans in.

As his lips ghost against yours, you move your head, so he ends up kissing your cheek. He pulls back, a confused look on his face.

“Save that for the end of the date, honey,” you tease, leaning up to kiss his cheek. You linger your lips against his skin before moving away from him and his scoff turns into a laugh.

“I’m holding you to that,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek.

“I hope you do” you mumble and Bucky pulls you in close to him, making you squeal. He twirls you and brings you back into his arms, his lips touching the top of your ear.

“Let’s go get some dinner now.” You nod and grab your phone, opting to let the music keep playing. Bucky doesn’t hesitate from telling you random music facts about the artists as you make your way to the diner.

And as you ramble on about your own favorite singer, Bucky thanks the heavens that he took a chance on you and that it was going better than he ever imagined.

#buckyblues 4k challenge #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fics #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagines #bucky fic #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x you #bucky #james bucky barnes #james barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #marvel fics

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briefinquiries · 4 years ago

Text

Luke Alvez x Reader: Bruises

Request: @whormotional asked: “hi i have recently become obsessed with your writing! youre like the best luke writing on this app i swear. could you do one where the female reader gets kidnapped on a case and tortured and just like luke and the team saving her and luke being there for her later that night pls”

Word count: 5.4k

Tagged: @ssaic-jareau , @alvezstan , @lcvischmitt , @ogmilkis , @goldenalvez , @ssa-morgan , @akimagies, @zhangyixingxing1 , @pinkdiamond1016 , @yourwonderbelle, @rachelxwayne , @sc4rletw1tch , @ellvswriting

Warnings: Kidnapping, torture, gun tw, blood mention

A/N: love angsty requests thank youuu. hope youu enjoy!!

You wake up to the taste of blood in your mouth. Your breath was ragged and shallow as you shook yourself out of a deep sleep. It was the first sense you were able to regain, but before you could force your eyes open, you felt the pulsing pain coming from the back of your head. It shot down your neck and around to the front of your forehead, making you wince.

Images from the dream you had been having were still clear in your mind. You had dreamt of Luke. Maybe you dreamt about him because he occupied most of your thoughts, or maybe it was because his face had been the last thing you saw before blacking out. You remembered seeing his brown eyes- usually warm and inviting, turn wide with worry as they didn’t quite meet your gaze. It was like he was staring at something behind you.

You saw him raise his gun and aim it slightly to your left. You had been just about to ask him what was wrong before he opened his mouth to warn you. His words were inaudible, though, as the blow that suddenly hit the back of your head had ensnared all of your senses. The look on his face was what lingered in your mind now. You tried desperately to memorize all of his features- the lines around his eyes and the way his hairline curved around his face. You squeezed your eyes shut even harder, thinking of his tan skin and stubble beard. You really didn’t want to open your eyes, because you knew that wherever you were and whatever had happened to you, wasn’t good.

…

When Luke comes to, he’s propped up against a cold wall and there are voices around him. A headache was pulsing behind his eyes as he finally cracked his eyelids, eyelashes fluttering on his first few attempts.

The blurry faces of Emily and Tara slowly start to come into focus as he wakes up. He sees Tara sigh a breath of relief when her gaze meets his own.

“Thank God,” she exhales quietly.

Blood. There was blood running down his head. And there was a bloodstained brick lying close to him.

“Luke,” Emily’s voice is louder. “What happened?”

“He came out of nowhere-” Luke states, he raises his hand to find the spot on his forehead that throbbed. When Luke pulls away, there’s blood on his fingers. Suddenly, images of the incident reentered his mind. “I tried to shoot- but I didn’t want to hit her-”

“Where is Y/N?” Emily asks calmly.

Just the mere mention of your name makes Luke sit up straighter. The sudden movement makes his head wobbly, but he ignores it.

“Woah, take it easy,” Emily instructs. She puts her hand out to steady him.

Luke falls back against the wall. “She’s not here?” he asks, panic and fear flooding his insides.

Instead of a yes or a no, Emily states, “We’ll find her.”

...

When you do finally open your eyes, you find that you're sitting in the corner of a dingy room, arms and legs bound to the worn chair. The room reminded you of a basement, concrete walls with pipes and ducts running along the ceiling between the hanging lightbulbs that were much too bright without covers.

You blink your eyes a few times, trying to make everything stop blurring together, but it seems impossible.

You gasp, chest constructing at the sharp pain suddenly shooting up your left side. You breathe through your nose, trying to will down the panic and fear that’s engulfed you. Each breath pulled in the strong presence of mold and mildew, making you want to gag.

There’s a man in the corner of the room fiddling with something. His back was turned to you until he realized you were conscious again. He begins approaching slowly. You recognize his wild hair and narrow eyes almost instantly.

From the information Garcia had gathered online earlier, the man’s name was Greg Atwood. And he was your Unsub.

You and the rest of the team had been called to Seattle over a week ago- after the third body showed up. Once Seattle PD made the connection between the victims, it was clear their problem was severe enough for reinforcements. You had worked the case just like any other- analyzing victimology, creating a geographic profile, combing the crime scenes. It became glaringly obvious that you were dealing with a professional, someone who killed efficiently and knew how to clean up their mess. And when Emily sent you and Luke to interview the witness who found the latest body, neither one of you had any idea you were about to walk into the arms of the apparent killer himself. But the profile the team had established, fit.

When Atwood opens his mouth to speak, his evil smile makes you cringe. “You’re awake,” is all he states. His voice is filled with venom.

You jerk, thrashing against the restraints that bind you. The man steps forward, his finger trailing along the barrel of his gun. He smiles confidently, but it’s his eyes that burn into your brain.

“What do you want from me?” you ask. You knew all too well how these interactions went, but you were desperate to stall.

The man looks at you for a long moment before inhaling deeply. But he doesn’t speak.

You blink again, trying to rack your brain and remember the profile. What would buy you some time?

You dig your teeth into the inside of your cheek- a habit Luke had always given you shit for. You briefly wonder if you’d ever get to hear him lecture you about it again.

You tug at the restraints again, testing it. But there’s no give.

“What do you want?” you try again.

Atwood takes another step closer, creepy smile still in place. “I want to know how you found me,” he says simply.

You bite your lip. He takes your hesitation as an invitation to talk more. “You see,” his voice trails. “I was very careful. I cleaned up my mess, I didn’t leave behind a single trace of DNA.”

“We didn’t find you with DNA, we found you with our profile.” He didn’t need to know you and Luke had originally thought he was a witness.

His smirk returns. “Right,” he says, like he doesn’t quite believe it. He turns his back to you and walks back towards the corner of the room he originally came from. He hoists something up, you can’t quite tell what it is until he turns around with it in his hands. It’s a tripod, and attached at the top is a camera.

Your chest feels tight again- you didn’t like where any of this was going.

The tripod is placed about six feet in front of you. Atwood adjusts the angle a bit before pressing a button. A light flashes red before he turns to look at you again. His smile has faded.

“Tell me where she is,” he orders.

Your eyes widen, but you don’t speak.

He waits, only a moment, before saying it again. “Tell me where I can find Emily Prentiss.”

You clench your jaw.

“I know you know where she is. She is your Unit Chief after all, isn’t she?”

You ignore his question. “Is my team seeing this?” you ask, nodding your head towards the camera.

His silence makes you assume that’s a yes. “You know- we profiled that you’d be extremely intelligent,” you say. “But if you think I’d rat out my Chief or anyone on my team, we must’ve gotten that part wrong.”

Your response gets you backhanded- hard across the face. Your head whips back, but you try to shake it off quickly.

You taste copper in your mouth again as you raise your head up. Your hair has fallen in your face, but you don’t make any effort to move it.

Atwood is looking at you, expression calculating. “If you want to get out of here alive,” he says, “you’re going to tell me where she is. It's up to you how hard you want to make this on yourself.” When you stay silent, he continues. “You see, it’s not you I really want. I don’t want to kill you. Just like I didn’t want to kill the agent you were with. You’re collateral damage to me, it means nothing.”

His words make you freeze in place.

Just like I didn’t want to kill the agent you were with.

The sentence seeps into your skin like poison.

Luke.

Your face is blank and your mind can’t process the entirety of what he’s said, before he proceeds.

“You see, it’s Prentiss I want. Tell me where she is and this will all be over.”

“You killed-” your voice is shaky as you try to comprehend the words Atwood has just spoken to you. “Y-you killed him?”

His smirk brings bile up in your throat.

He was lying, you say to yourself. Luke was fine, he was lying. “No,” you whisper, your eyes burning with unshed tears. “No-”

Atwood sighs, pretending to be sympathetic. “Like I said- I didn’t want to do it. But he got in my way. Just like you’re getting in my way right now.”

His words are muffled in your own head as your mind races to make sense of it all. Luke- Luke was your purpose and your happiness and your reason. Luke was everything.

“Tell me where she is.” Atwood presses.

If he was telling the truth, and Luke really was dead- then what did it matter if you died too? “Go fuck yourself,” you spit, trying not to show him the brokenness he’d just caused.

Atwood sighs, “I was hoping we could do this the easy way.”

He approaches you, rolling up his sleeve as he walks. You noticed a brass ring on his finger.

You wonder what the rest of the team was thinking and if they could even see you right now. You knew that they’d be looking for you, no matter what. They’d probably even encourage you to give up Emily’s information- even though none of them would. But it probably didn’t make whatever was about to happen to you easier for them to watch.

“This doesn’t end until you tell me where she is,” Atwood sneers. It’s his final warning. You look straight at the camera and try to broadcast a message to the team. In case they were watching, you wanted them to know you could handle this. You offer the slightest smile, one they’d probably only catch if they rewound the tape, you’re reassuring them that you’d be fine.

…

When the video stream first comes through, it makes Penelope gasp. She was sleep deprived after being transported to Seattle. Her job was to comb through the Unsub’s computer, and to hopefully find a hint as to where he might have taken you.

At first, she’s surprised, and disturbed by the distressed looking girl tied to the chair. Penelope has seen her fair share of gruesome images and videos in her days with the Bureau, but she never could seem to get used to it.

But when the girl lifts her head and reveals a face Penelope recognizes immediately, she’s horrified. Your eyes are tired, and every breath looks ragged.

“Emily!” she calls out, “Guys!”

Just then, a man comes into the frame, his voice is muffled and quiet. Before Penelope can turn the volume up to hear what he’s said, he raises his hand and strikes you across the face.

“No!” Penelope cries, squeezing her eyes shut. Only when she feels a warm hand fall on her shoulder does she dare to open them.

It’s Emily, and in her trail is JJ and Rossi.

“What’s going on?” Emily asks, concerned.

“It’s Y/N-” Garcia has tears running down her face.

“Oh my God,” JJ breathes, she covers her mouth with her hands.

“She’s hurt,” Garcia whimpers.

Emily inhales sharply.

“Is this live? Can you trace it?” Rossi asks, leaning in.

Garcia nods, the rapid clicks of her keyboard answering for her.

“Where’s Luke?” JJ asks, turning her head. “He can’t see this-”

“See what?” Luke’s voice rings through the room, making everyone turn their heads. He’s standing in the doorframe with an ice pack held firmly to his head. After being attacked, he’d refused to go to the hospital. Not until you were home safe, he had said. No one tried to argue it.

They stand speechless, unsure of what to say to Luke.

“See what?” he repeats. But that’s when he sees the screen.

“Who is that?” he asks, voice cracking. He leans so that he can see past Garcia. The panic on his face told them that he already knew.

“We’re going to find her,” Emily says calmly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Suddenly, there’s a man’s voice speaking from the video. It’s Atwood.

“All I need is a location,” he says calmly. “Tell me where I can find Emily Prentiss.”

Everyone in the room inhales sharply. Luke grits his teeth as he sees you pick up your head. Your face looks scared. “I don’t know,” you say weakly.

Atwood sighs. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

With that, Garcia cries out again as he sucker punches you in the jaw. Just as you’re wincing from the first impact, you take another hit, a punch to the gut that leaves you heaving and breathless.

Luke is wild, gritting his teeth. “I’m gonna bash this guy’s head in myself,” he roars, turning away.

Just then, the rest of the team filters in the room. “What’s going on?” Reid asks. He’s holding an evidence bag in his gloved hands.

“The motherfucker’s recording it- he’s live streaming it,” Luke exclaims. He’s gripping his hair frantically.

“Anything, Garcia?” Rossi asks.

Her typing has become more frantic as she desperately tries to secure a location.

The assault against you continues, hit after hit, mostly centered on your left side. It’s clear that you were doing your best to zone out.

Luke has started watching again, despite Matt trying to pull him away.

You keep your mouth shut, even when your side aches so bad you think he’s broken one of your ribs. When Atwood finally stops hitting you, your face is hot and bruised and bloody.

It makes Luke want to be sick.

Just then, a pinging noise comes from Garcia’s computer and the room goes dead silent.

After a moment, she turns to Emily questioningly. “I have an address,” she states.

“What’s wrong?” Tara asks, picking up on the confusion in her tone.

“What’re we waiting for?” Luke roars. “Let’s go-”

“It just feels- wrong,” Garcia says, unable to put her finger on it. “Why would an Unsub as intelligent as him not block his streaming location?”

“Do you think it’s a trap?”

Garcia shakes her head. “I don’t know-”

“That’s a risk we’re going to have to take,” Emily says. She turns to the rest of the team. “Let’s go.”

“Be safe,” Garcia whimpers.

…

You barely feel alive anymore. You had your eyes closed, and were resting your head against the back of the chair when you tried to imagine yourself back in your apartment with Luke. You imagined being snuggled into him on the couch as you watched some cheesy, romantic movie. You had given up struggling- your restraints were too tight, it was no use. You tried to count how much time it had been since you’d been here. But the truth was, you had no idea how long you’d been out for. Hours? Days?

You were wondering if the team was still looking for you when you hear a distant thump coming from upstairs.

The thing was- you knew this wasn’t just about Emily’s location. It wasn’t even about your team’s location. It was about beating you- the power involved in outsmarting the FBI.

You kept your eyes closed, taking deep breaths and trying as best as you could to get your body to stop shivering. You were bruised and bloody and dehydrated.

You hadn’t opened your eyes in a while now. And even though you couldn’t sleep, you didn’t want to open them because you didn’t want Atwood to know you were awake.

You wished your mind would quiet down, but of course it wouldn't. You had nothing to do here besides think. You think about the last words you said to Luke, and you think of how meaningless and insignificant they were. You try to remember when the last time you told him you loved him was. You think about if you even wanted to get out of here alive if there was no Luke to go home to.

In the midst of your thoughts, you gasp loudly when the only door leading out of the room blows off the hinges. Dust fills the air and you flinch at the feeling of your neck suddenly being barred by a strong arm.

Atwood.

“Drop it!” Emily’s familiar voice fills the room.

You sigh a breath of relief, despite knowing there was a gun pressed directly against your temple.

“You’re not getting out of here,” Rossi’s voice says. “So you might as well put the gun down now.” When the dust finally settles, you see him filing to the left corner of the room, his gun drawn. Matt has already situated himself in the right corner.

Atwood chuckles from behind you, his grip tightening.

“What makes you think that?” he sneers.

“Look around you, man-” Matt says. “We’ve got you cornered.”

Atwood shoves the barrel of the gun harshly against your temple, making your head spin.

“I like my odds.”

His eyes flicker to the clock on the wall- a motion that Rossi picks up on immediately.

“What’re you waiting for Greg?” There’s a taunting tone to his voice. “For three o’clock?”

Atwood’s head shoots up. That hit a nerve.

“We know what your plan was, Greg,” Emily says. “We found the bomb.”

For a brief moment, you feel the gun being dropped from your temple. Just as quickly, the sound of a single gunshot makes you flinch. Atwood drops to the floor behind you, collapsing in a pool of his own blood.

It was Matt who took the shot- taking advantage of the brief moment of hesitation that Atwood demonstrated. You turn to him, trying to express your gratitude, but your head is spinning.

“You’re okay,” Emily states. It sounds like she’s trying more to convince herself of that fact.

You nod without even realizing it.

Matt’s the first one at your side. He’s frantically ripping away the ropes from your wrist. There’s ligature marks already visible on your skin.

Cops and EMTs start rushing through the room just as Emily speaks into her mic that it’s clear.

You try to stand up, but the world around you spins immediately, tilting on its axis. You almost black out in just about half a second.

“Woah-” Emily says.

Matt catches you before you fall to the floor.

You struggle to look around the room, but everything is too bright and people are moving too fast. It’s impossible to tell who’s here and who’s not.

“L-Luke?” You hesitate because you almost don’t want to know.

Matt gives you a soft smile, pausing when you’re finally free from your restraints. “He’s okay, he’s outside.”

You blink a few times, not sure if you heard him right. “He’s alive?” you lock eyes with Matt.

Matt nods, his face sincere.

“But he’s hurt- Atwood said-”

“Hey,” Matt whispers, tightening his grip around your waist. “He’s okay, I’ll take you to him.”

You let out a sigh of relief, but it could double as a soft sob. There are tears falling down your cheeks.

With Matt bearing the majority of your weight, you let him lead you out of the building. The glaring, afternoon sun makes it hard to see once you get outside, but you trust Matt’s guidance.

After only a few steps, you hear your name being called.

It’s so hard to focus, and you can feel your vision blurring in and out- but you’d know that voice anywhere.

“Luke-” you whisper tentatively, because you still weren’t entirely sure that the voice wasn’t a hallucination.

But then you hear it again. This time it’s clearer and closer.

You blink a few more times, the brightness fading as you strain to see.

Slowly, Luke’s figure comes into focus. He’s rushing towards you, and you realize that’s the first time since being taken that you feel like you could breathe again.

“Oh my God-” Luke stammers. Once he reaches you, he hesitates, like he’s too afraid to touch you. You were sure nothing about you looked even remotely beautiful right now. Between the bruises on your face and your tear-stained cheeks, you can only imagine the type of image Luke was taking in. “Are you okay?” he asks, he grasps your upper arms gently.

You ignore his question and throw your arms around him, letting your cheek rest against his chest. He wraps his arms around you, one hand falling on your upper back, while the other cradles the back of your head. He kisses your hair firmly before pulling away. He holds you at an arm’s length and scans your body.

He takes in the sight of you. There’s bruising along your jawline, red swirled with blues and purples from broken blood vessels. It makes his stomach lurch to know you’d been hurt like this- that he couldn’t stop you from being hurt like this.

There’s blood caked into the side of your hair- crusty and turning dark crimson. Luke runs his thumb along the length of it.

Suddenly, he sees you frown. After blinking a few more times, his face has finally come into focus, which allows you to see the cut visible on his forehead. “Your head-” you observe.

Luke starts protesting immediately. “I’m fine, I’m okay.” His small cut was nothing compared to the bruises that inevitably littered your body.

Your head spins again, making you sway in place. Luke’s quick to wrap an arm around you and you fall into his side with ease, wincing when his hand falls on your bruised side.

The EMTs are already on the street, ready to throw you into the back of an ambulance.

You try to protest, assuring Luke and everyone else that you were fine. But Luke insists. “You need to be checked out. You’re not fine.”

It feels like forever before the hospital clears you. You have a concussion and a couple broken ribs, nothing that won’t heal on its own. You’re grateful to not be more severely injured. But you’re also just exhausted and sore and ready to go home.

Luke barely let’s go of your hand, let alone leaves your side for the next twenty four hours. It’s comforting having him beside you, but you don’t like seeing him so worried.

Once you’re discharged from the hospital, Luke and you head straight to the jet, where the rest of the team is waiting.

Everyone wants to know how you’re feeling- how you’re holding up. But talking about it made you think about it, and you really didn’t want to think about it.

The plane ride home feels agonizingly long. Every time the jet jostles or has turbulence, you wince. And every time you wince, everyone rushes to your side to make sure you’re alright.

“Can I get you anything?” Tara asks. She had just stood up to refill her own cup of tea.

You shake your head, offering her your most convincing smile. “No thanks, I’m fine.”

“Blanket?” Reid offers.

“Ice pack?”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Coffee?”

“Vodka?”

You decline.

You sprawl out on the couch with your head resting in Luke’s lap and feign sleep just to avoid their fretting. It makes you feel guilty to know you had them all so worried.

His hands are in your hair, stroking the strands softly.

“Luke, m’tired,” you whisper quietly enough so that only he hears.

“I know,” Luke answers. “We’re almost home.”

You lose track of the rest of the plane ride to your scattered brain, only picking up on small details: the murmur of Rossi and Emily talking beside you, the roughness of Luke’s jeans against your bruised cheek, the way your legs have to be slightly bent in order to fit on the couch. Time passes in a disorienting lurch.

It is an eternity before you land in Virginia.

And it’s an even longer eternity before you’re pulling into the driveway of you and Luke’s shared house.

He tries to help you walk up to the door but you wave him away. “I got it, I’m fine.”

You add a small smile when you see the hurt look on his face.

“Bed or couch?” he asks while rushing to collect his keys out of his pocket.

“Couch,” you murmur. Your choice was based solely on the fact that the couch was significantly closer to you than the bed. It also didn’t involved a flight of stairs.

Luke drops your bags by the entryway before guiding you to the living room. His hand hovers wearily on your lower back- like he’s afraid you’ll collapse at any moment.

You exhale choppily when you’re finally able to sit down on the couch. It’s worn, familiar fabric makes you feel safer. Your eyes are heavy and your head wants to lull forward. It’s hard to focus.

Luke pulls the throw blanket down from the back of the couch and lays it gently on top of you. It’s warmth brings comfort and ease.

Luke kisses your forehead gently.

“I’m gonna go grab some water,” he tells you.

You just mumble incoherently in response.

You quickly succumb to the exhaustion- letting your eyes fall shut. But as soon as you let them close, his face appears. It’s right in front of you, so close that if you reached out you could touch him. Atwood is flashing his teeth with his signature evil grin, their tint of yellow and crookedness felt way too detailed to be a dream. You wonder if you’re back in the basement- if you never really left in the first place. Maybe being rescued was the dream.

A soft clinking sound makes you shoot up from the couch, alert and panting while you frantically look around the room.

Luke is setting a glass of water on the coffee table in front of you, but your startled response makes him whip his head towards you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, face full of worry.

As soon as you see him, you realize that you’re home and safe. You try to calm yourself down, embarrassed by your reaction.

You take a deep breath. “Nothing,” you mumble, shaking it off. “I’m fine.”

You both knew it was a lie.

But Luke doesn’t argue- he doesn’t push. He just settled down beside you on the couch, his arm wrapping around your shoulders carefully.

You wait for a minute, steadying your breathing, before attempting to close your eyes again. At first, it’s just the back of your eyelids and their darkness. You stay focused on that and your breathing.

As you finally start to relax, you start to feel a strange pressure against your wrists. You jostle your arms, but for some reason they won’t move. You’re stuck in place- restrained to the chair again.

Suddenly, you feel Atwood’s fist against your jaw- his ring tearing open the flesh of your cheek. His snickering is loud in your ears.

You snap your eyes open again- you’re met by your dimly lit living room.

Luke’s thumb is trailing up and down your arm comfortingly. You were safe- these images you were seeing weren’t real.

The third time you close your eyes- you see him almost instantly. This time he’s close enough so that you can feel his hot breath on your neck.

You shoot up quickly, panting heavily. Your face collapses in your hands as you try to rub the images from your eyes.

It was real. It was very real, and you had the markings and bruises to prove it.

This- laying on your own couch, finally getting to sleep- was what you’d been waiting for. But now that your adrenaline had faded and some of the grogginess from your concussion had subsided, you couldn’t shut your eyes without hearing him, seeing him, feeling him- all over.

Luke sits up too, attentive to your uneasiness.

“I c-can’t-” your voice is shaky. “I can’t close my eyes,” you explain.

Luke’s large hand rubs your back soothingly.

“I can’t close my eyes without seeing him.”

Luke nods, his hand travels from your back to your arm, he grips it securely before leaning in and pressing his lips to your temple. You lean into his touch, letting him pull you closer to him. He falls back against the couch, and you fall against his chest, practically on top of him at this point.

“You're safe now,” he soothes.

“I’m so tired,” you whisper, exhaustion making you start to tear up.

“I know,” Luke murmurs. His fingers trail up and down your arm, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake.

It doesn’t take long of Luke holding you like that for you to fall asleep. At first, it’s nothingness- just a deep, peaceful slumber. Until it isn’t.

This time you don’t see Atwood. Instead, you see someone curled up on the ground. As you step closer, you realize it’s Luke. You call out to him, but there’s no response.

When he doesn’t answer, you reach your hand out, fingers grazing his bicep. His skin feels ice cold. You shake him lightly- but there’s no response. Harder this time, you pull his weight towards you, hoping to get his attention. Instead, Luke’s lifeless body flops onto his back. His eyes are still open, lifelessly baring into your own. His mouth is parted slightly but there’s no air coming in or out of it. That’s when you see the blood dripping down his face and pooled beneath his hair.

You wake up screaming.

“Hey-” Luke’s spinning and sitting up to position himself in front of you. He cups your face between his hands. “Hey, hey- you’re okay. You’re safe, I got you.”

But you shake your head. “It wasn’t me-”

Luke’s brown eyes narrow slightly, like he’s trying to understand.

“It was you,” you say, voice fading into a sob. “He t-told me that he k-” you swallow the lump in your throat, but it does little to make you stop crying. “He told me that he killed you. He told me you were dead.”

Just saying it outloud makes you erupt into a puddle of tears. You’re so distraught that you barely notice Luke pulling you into his lap on the couch.

He’s murmuring soothing words into your ear, but continues letting you cry into his chest. The numbness from earlier had completely worn off, and while you were scared and hurt- it felt good to feel something other than exhaustion.

You’re not sure how long you stay like that- curled into Luke’s chest sobbing into his cotton t-shirt. At some point, Luke had used his free hand to reach for the remote. He put your favorite show on the television. You’d seen every episode several times, but Luke knew it brought you comfort.

Your eyes were red rimmed and puffy and you sniffled weakly. “I’m sorry I’m keeping you from sleeping,” you whispered, when you were confident you wouldn’t burst into tears again.

Luke tightened his grip around you. “It’s okay,” he assures you. “We’re both concussed, and I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to sleep while you’re concussed, anyway.”

You smile.

Luke linked your hands together, looking down at you and giving you a soft smile. “I love you.” He whispered, lips pressing against the top of your head.

“I love you too.” you replied quietly.

Things were a mess. And you were sad and scared and it would probably take a lot of sleepless nights and painful sobs for you to get through this. Luke would be there to dry your tears though, just like he always was. And Luke would probably have to try harder to keep you feeling safe and eventually, you were going to have to talk about what happened.

But right now, wrapped in each other's arms on your shared couch, all you needed was each other.

#luke alvez fic #luke alvez imagine #luke alvez x reader imagine #luke alvez fanfiction #luke alvez angst #luke alvez fanfic #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x reader fanfic #luke alvez x reader fanfiction #luke alvez x reader fic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader fanfic #criminal minds x reader fic

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natrogersfics · 3 years ago

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Game Plan - Chapter 7: Must’ve Been Love

Artwork by @faith2nyc Read on AO3 (to see all NINE of Faith2nyc’s edits for this chapter!)

This is a nightmare. That’s the only logical explanation Steve can conjure for why this is all happening. The thing is, it is not as though he expects life to be perfect – no one would dare accuse him of being a Pollyanna. From experience, he knows that for every good hand someone is dealt, there’s always the possibility that three bad ones are right around the corner, ready to hit. But this? This is more than dumb luck. Because there’s just no way. There’s no way that he woke up this morning, the happiest he’s ever remembered being, with his arms wrapped around the person he’s fallen hard and fast for. There’s no way she went to work, called him later on to share how she cleared one of the biggest hurdles that could threaten their happiness, only for him to open his front door to find his pregnant ex-wife standing before him.

There’s just no way any of that could actually have happened because there’s no way life could be that vicious. Not so soon after handing him such a win. And yet, it doesn’t matter how hard he digs his nails into the inside of his palm. It doesn’t matter how many times he tries to swallow the lump that’s formed in his throat. No matter what he does, he can’t seem to escape the reality that he’s here, awake and sitting across the dining table from someone he knows is about to take a wrecking ball to the life he’s worked hard to rebuild.

“It’s yours.”

The question Peggy’s words are answering has only existed since he opened his door, and yet somehow, it’s as if hearing them has always been inevitable. But now that they’re out in the open, even if he’s yet to know if there’s a speck of truth to them, their weight is no less cumbersome – like two anchors being dropped into the ocean, taking along with it more than he’s even capable of comprehending at the moment as they slowly sink to the floor.

“That’s the elephant in the room, yes?” Peggy adds when the dense silence lingers in the room. “Figured I’d cut to the chase now that your…” – she eyes Sam and then Natasha before turning back to him – “posse is here.”

He shakes his head in exasperation, his tone clipped as he says, “No one has seen you in half a year, Peggy-”

“I know what you’re trying to get at here, Steve,” Peggy says as she lets one perfectly manicured hand fall to her belly. “But let me assure you, I’m further along than that.”

“Then you knew,” he says hotly, pausing to give himself a chance to compose himself. “You knew when we were going through our divorce proceedings that you were pregnant and yet you didn’t think that was pertinent information to share.”

“So you’d feel obligated to stay with me for the baby, Saint Steven?” Peggy mockingly opines as she glares at him. “I’ll admit, when you told me you were done trying to salvage our marriage, I was angry. My pride was, well… it took a beating.” She scoffs. “I didn’t want to tell you, but the further along I got into this pregnancy, the more it weighed on me that it’s not just about me anymore.”

“How altruistic,” he mutters dryly.

Peggy leans forward in her seat. “I’m not going to punish our child for our mistakes, Steve.”

“A talking point like that would bring any studio audience to their feet,” Natasha says before he can get a retort in, her eyes narrowing as she speaks up for the first time since she’s walked into the room. “But you know that. That’s why you’ve booked…” She reaches for her phone, scrolling through the screen before looking back at Peggy. “Two morning talk shows for tomorrow?”

Amusement flashes in Peggy’s tawny eyes. “I don’t believe we’ve officially met,” she remarks. “You are?”

He turns to Natasha to find her expression undaunted. “Natasha Romanoff,” she says, lifting her chin. “I’m Steve’s publicist.”

“Well, Natasha,” Peggy says. “Sabbatical or not, I’m still a public figure. Surely, you of all people understand that my fans would like to know where I’ve been all this time.” She lifts her shoulders in a shrug. “That being said, I also know that in your line of work, you’re trained to assume the worst. The messes are yours to clean up, after all.” She places both her hands on the table, intertwining her fingers. “But let me assure you, I’m not here to hurt Steve or his career. I simply want our child to know their father.”

“Why should I believe you?” he spits out, doing away with the restraint he’s been holding onto to keep his anger beneath the surface. “After everything, how could I believe a thing you say?”

Peggy tilts her head to the side. “You remember that little villa in Andorra while I was shooting on location, don’t you, darling?” Instantly, his face falls at Peggy’s words, and he feels his stomach drop. “Look, I know you don’t trust me,” Peggy concedes, “and I acknowledge I haven’t given you reason to, so here…” She reaches down at the purse on her side, pulling out an envelope before sliding it towards the other end of the table. “These are results from an amniocentesis from my twentieth week-”

“Conveniently the last possible week you could perform one,” Sam interjects, letting out a scoff as he reaches for the envelope. “You’ll have to excuse us if we don’t take what’s in here at face value. We will be requesting our own tests if this is the road you choose to pursue.”

“Steve’s finally trusted you with his career, has he?” Peggy says, smirking at Sam, who only rolls his eyes in response. “Well, I suppose better late than never. In any case, do what you must.”

“Going to the press isn’t the sure win you think it is,” Natasha adds. “Steve may have had a reputation, but yours isn’t exactly pristine.” She arches a brow at Peggy. “Far from it.”

“The fact that you know that, Ms. Romanoff, is testament to the fact that I’ve never tried to hide my past,” Peggy says before addressing him. “I know this comes as a shock to you, and I get it, I’ve hurt you. I don’t deny that. But please, don’t turn away from our child because of my actions.” She rises from her seat, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “I’m staying at the Griffith Hotel. When you’re ready to talk, you know where to find me.”

He watches silently as Peggy leaves, the sound of the ruckus outside momentarily filtering into his apartment as she opens the door before clicking it shut behind her. The second the cacophony cuts out, Sam utters something about getting ahead of her, but before he can say anything more, Natasha pushes her chair back as she rises and exits the room.

The fall breeze is cool against his skin when he steps out onto his balcony, and despite the glare from the sun causing him to squint as it sinks lower into the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the skyline, the sight before him is crystal clear. Natasha stands by the railing, her back to him as she stares out into the vast city before her. But even so, her shoulders are visibly coiled with tension. With a sigh, he shuts the glass doors behind him, making his way over to her.

“It’s brewing,” she says before he can utter a word. She keeps her eyes front, and he swallows tightly as he turns to lean his back against the railing. “Someone caught pictures of her walking up your block and then some of you two at your front door, so cat’s out of the bag. God knows what else they got when she left.”

His jaw sets at that. “And that’s just the tip of the iceberg, right?”

“Technically, I can’t tell you for certain until she makes another move,” she admits. “I have to be honest with you, though. For all her faults, for all her faults that the public knows about… it’s still easy to turn you into the villain in all of this.” She turns to look at him. “It’s a different game now, Steve. Not many people will remember how messy your divorce got or how she nearly crippled both of you financially. They probably will even forget all you’ve done to get back to where you are.” She shrugs. “The story of an athlete rising from the ashes… It’s a good one to read, but it’s not something many people can relate to. But a parent trying to do right by her child? You’d be hard-pressed to find someone that won’t root for that.”

He’s silent for a moment, ruminating on her words. Eventually, he lets his shoulders sag in defeat. “What’s our play?”

“That really depends on what you say next,” she says softly, prompting his forehead to pucker. “I know what Peggy said in there, but I need to hear it from you. Because we can get ahead before she goes to the press, aggressively refute her claims… But we can only do that if you can tell me right now that she’s lying. That there’s absolutely no chance that baby is yours. Otherwise, that strategy will blow up in our faces.” She looks up at him, holding his gaze. “Can you tell me that, Steve?”

“Natasha…” Her eyes fall shut, and the image of her taking in a breath as if to steel herself as he cements the reality of their circumstances with one utterance of her name, makes his heart constrict in his chest. “I so badly wish I could tell you yes.” He sighs. “But the fact is, I don’t know for certain. Even after everything, signing those papers still wasn’t- we tried everything to save our marriage.” A curse falls from his lips. “God, Nat, I am so sorry.”

“Did you ever want kids?”

The question comes after a nearly suffocating silence, and he finds himself taken aback when her eyes flutter open as she turns to look his way. He was expecting anger, resentment – but her green orbs are devoid of either. “That’s not- why does that matter?”

“Just humor me,” she says. “Please?”

“I… I think at one point, I did,” he says after a beat. “But Peggy made it clear that children were never in her plans, so I made my peace with that.” He shrugs. “She was the one I wanted to spend my life with. It didn’t matter if that meant me, her, and three kids or just me and her. All I cared about was that we were together.” He shakes his head. “But Nat, that doesn’t mean-”

“Just let me say this, okay?” He presses his lips back together even as his nerves run array in anticipation of her next words. “I know she’s hardly a repository of truth, but on the off chance that she isn’t lying and that baby is yours… Steve, I can’t-” She exhales deeply. “I know things got really bad between you and Peggy, but I won’t be the person that breaks up a family.”

“Natasha,” he says firmly, taking her hands in his own as he implores her to look at him. “Peggy and I loved each other. But even then, no amount of love could change the fact that we also bring out the worst versions of one another. The people we become when we’re together?” He sighs. “No child should have to grow up seeing their parents like that. If she is telling the truth, I won’t run. I will be the best father I can be to that child. But Peggy and me? We’ve been over longer than we care to admit.” He smiles sadly. “But you of all people know that no matter what, this is going to get ugly.” He brings one hand up, cupping her face. “Natasha, I love you. I still want to be with you, and as crazy as this sounds, I feel like I always will. But today alone, you’ve already risked so much for me, and I won’t ask you for more.”

She turns away from him, and as her hands fall to the railing, gripping tightly, his gaze falls to his feet. Despite what he’s just said, he takes in a deep breath, bracing himself for what he knows is coming.

“Did you know that I did well in school?” Natasha’s question causes his gaze to snap towards her, but her only response to the perplexed expression on his face is a nod. “I did so well I got a full-ride to college, and I thrived. There wasn’t a party or a person or an activity interesting enough to distract me from my goal.” Her lips lift in a soft smile as she looks out before her again. “I graduated first in my class, got my degree, and then gave my blood, sweat, and tears to get the job I’ve always dreamed of.” She shakes her head. “The night you met me… that night at the bar, was the night I got promoted. Years of working long hours, and there I was, the youngest person in the history of the NFL to make Director. But as I sat there, celebrating with some of my closest friends, it dawned on me that it all felt... anticlimactic.” She scoffs. “It was like I had won the game and I could see the people around me cheering, but I couldn’t hear them. Like the whistle was yet to blow or the confetti was yet to fall... Then I saw you. And I thought, what’s one night of throwing caution to the wind when I’ve had a lifetime of living by the book?” She lets out a long and winded sigh before looking back at him. “You see, I’m not that girl. I’m not that girl that takes risks or leaves anything up to fate. I’m the girl that leads with her head, not…” – she brings a hand up to her chest – “this thing.” Her shoulder lifts in a delicate shrug. “But that girl? She’s never been as happy or felt more alive than when she woke up next to you this morning.”

“Natasha…” he breathes out, too stunned to form any more words.

Her eyes grow glassy with unshed tears just as she chuckles quietly. “I guess what I’m saying is, I know it’s going to get ugly. I’m pretty sure it might even hurt. Possibly a lot. But if you’re telling me that you want me in your corner, then I don’t care about all that. I choose the ugly and the pain and the uncertainty… I choose you.”

For a moment, he can only stare at her. “Even if you don’t have to?”

“Because I want to,” she corrects.

A gasp falls from his lips as he pulls her into his arms, nuzzling his nose into her hair. “Your grace is overwhelming, Nat,” he says, “I don’t know where you get it, but I sure as hell don’t deserve it.”

“Helps when you know who you’re fighting for,” she says, smiling softly as she looks up at him. “I love you, too, by the way. In case that wasn’t obvious.”

“No, I got that,” he says, smiling as he leans down to dust a kiss to her lips. “What now?”

“You do what you’ve been doing from the start.” When he looks quizzically down at her, she shrugs. “You show them who you are,” she clarifies. “You tell the truth.”

“I’m not perfect. Heaven knows I’ve made enough mistakes to last a lifetime, many of which were no secret to the public... I gambled, I was unfaithful, and I hurt my husband deeply. I don’t discount the role I’ve played in the downfall of my marriage and I’m not asking anyone to.”

Natasha sighs, crossing her arms over her chest as she watches Peggy take a deep breath on the screen before her. As someone whose job description includes crafting public apologies when needed, she knows that the unspoken truth about them is that there’s a formula. It starts with an expression of regret before jumping into an explanation of – but not to be confused with an excuse for – what went wrong. And as Peggy moves on to acknowledging responsibility for her actions, she can’t help but admit that if the woman’s end goal is to win over the public’s sentiment, then she’s hitting all the right notes.

“But these last six months, I’ve been putting in the work to get better. To be better so I can be someone worthy of raising the greatest gift of all. I’m not here for pity, I’m not even here for forgiveness. I know I no longer have a place in Steve’s heart. All I ask is that my- our child isn’t punished for my shortcomings. That they can grow up knowing that they have a father who loves them.”

As the audience begins to applaud and tear rolls down Peggy’s cheek, she reaches for the remote to shut the television off.

“Are you denying her story?”

She turns to see Thor’s brow raised in question as he sits behind his desk. This conversation was never slated to be easy, but the unreadable expression on the man’s face is no less unsettling.

“Not exactly,” Steve answers from where he’s parked on one of the impeccably upholstered seats across from Thor. “She has results from an amniocentesis she had done. Technically, I could take a blood test to compare-”

“But we can’t authenticate Peggy’s results ourselves,” she explains. “Which is why Sam is spearheading the meeting between Steve’s lawyers and Peggy’s. We’re requesting that a court mandate both she and Steve submit to a new, non-invasive paternity test to confirm her claim. If it’s granted, the earliest it can be done is next week.”

Thor’s gaze goes from her to Steve. “Then there’s a chance your ex-wife could be telling the truth,” he notes, to which Steve nods. “And if so, would you be reconciling with her?”

“No,” Steve says resolutely. “Even if our divorce papers weren’t already signed and filed, my marriage to Peggy would still be irretrievable.”

Thor’s head tilts to the side. “You would have your child grow up in a broken home then?”

“If that’s the better alternative, which in this case it is, then yes,” Steve says. “I’m not going to subject a child to a life of seeing their parents live in contempt for one another just to make other people comfortable. It’s not fair to them.” He shakes his head. “I don’t punt my responsibilities, Thor. If that child is mine, I will love and take care of it the way every child deserves to be. But I’ve spent way too many years of my life being lied to and I won’t live like that again. Not if there’s a way to know for sure.” He sighs. “I came here today because that’s the crux of the statement we’re going to release, and I wanted to extend you the courtesy of informing you about the situation myself. That being said, I understand if that also means you no longer want me to represent Point Break.”

Thor rolls his lips, his expression contemplative. “Do you know why Point Break specializes in creating athleisure for the entire family?” he muses after a while. “It’s because we hope that our products encourage families to want to get moving together. To play together... It’s all about the family as a unit” – he looks to her and then at Steve – “and as I’m sure you’re both aware, having former spouses duking it out in the media over a child’s paternity does not exactly align with that.”

She catches the way Steve’s gaze falls to his lap, and she sighs. “Thor-”

Thor raises a hand as he rises from his seat. “It is important that our brand ambassadors embody our message,” he says, walking to the front of his desk and perching on the ledge. “But even more so, it’s crucial that their embodiment of it is not just lip service.” Her brows shoot to her hairline at that, and she watches as Thor’s shoulders rise in a shrug. “When we think of family, we often first think of the nuclear. A mother, a father, their children… And yes, when Point Break was founded, that was the definition my father had in mind. But that’s a bit simplistic, is it not? I think we all know that there’s a lot more that determines family than blood.”

“Like values,” she offers.

Thor hums in agreement, smiling softly. “What good is a unit if the values being imparted amongst the people in it don’t make them better people?” He turns to Steve. “I don’t know what game your ex-wife is playing. But from where I’m standing, I see a man of integrity. One who is trying to do the right thing even in the most convoluted of circumstances. And if that does not epitomize family values, then I don’t what does.”

“You’re not pulling the partnership then?” Steve asks, surprise evident in his tone.

“Once you release your official statement, Point Break will release one of support,” Thor says, and immediately, she feels relief wash over her in waves.

“Thor,” Steve says, “thank you.”

Thor nods. “Thank you for being honest.”

“Right,” Steve says, and the second his eyes dart to hers, she knows precisely what he’s about to bring up as he turns back to Thor. “Actually, Thor, while we’re on that topic-”

“We also wanted to ask if we could postpone the promotional campaign for the winter line,” she interrupts before Steve can say anything more. From the corner of her eye, she catches the way his head snaps in her direction, but she keeps her focus on Thor as she goes on. “We know the campaign is time-sensitive given the season, but from a Public Relations standpoint, we just think it’s in the best interest of both Steve and Point Break if we’re not promoting products while we’re in the middle of all this. It’s not the greatest of optics at the time being.”

“No, I completely agree,” Thor says, walking back to his chair. “I’ll let Marketing know to hold the collateral until you give the signal.”

“Thank you,” she says as Thor turns his attention to his computer, his fingers typing away on the keyboard. When she finally meets Steve’s perplexed gaze, she just shakes her head as she mouths, “later.”

“Way to call an audible,” Steve says the second they exit Thor’s office, pulling her into an empty break room. “What the heck, Nat? I was going to tell him-”

“About us,” she says, craning her neck to ensure that no one is behind him. She lowers her voice as she adds, “I know, which is why I stepped in.”

“But isn’t that what we agreed on?” he presses. “You tell Pepper and I’ll tell Thor?”

“Yes,” she says, “but Steve, we got lucky in there.” She gestures in the direction of Thor’s office. “Apparently Thor happens to be the one understanding brand owner in the sea of sharks, but that does not mean we should push our luck.”

Steve’s eyes bulge. “Are you ending this?”

“What? No!” She steps closer to him, lifting his chin with a finger. “Hey, look at me. I choose you, remember?” Relief paints its way across his features at her words, and she lets out a sigh. “I just… I don’t want to give everyone else more to chew on, which is why I think it’s best that we wait until this whole mess with Peggy gets resolved before we let anyone else know about us.”

“Then we’re back where we started, aren’t we?” he asks. “Natasha, I don’t want to sneak around with you again like you’re someone I should be ashamed of being with.”

“And I love and appreciate you for that, Steve,” she says. “But I’m trying to play the long game here, to keep a grip on the steering wheel even if it’s just one hand. If we tell everyone now… It won’t matter what you say or how many official statements we put out. The story will evolve into you not wanting to acknowledge this child because you’re involved with your publicist.”

He sighs. “I don’t know, Nat.”

“You know I’m right,” she offers, and though every bone in her body wants to close the remaining distance between them, she reminds herself of where they are. “All we’ll be doing is putting out little fires left and right from all the other stories that’ll sprout from that news. And right now, we really have to be focused on putting out the big one.” The guilt is clear as day on his face as he ponders her words, but she can tell by the way his stance softens that he sees her point. “Steve.” She gives him a soft smile when he meets her gaze, and she allows herself to take another minuscule step towards him. “I already know you love me, so unless that’s changed-”

“Not a chance,” he interjects quickly.

“Then that’s all that matters,” she says, her smile only growing wider. “I mean, obviously, that means we’ll still have to keep the ass grabbing in private.”

He arches a brow in amusement. “Did you want to do that in public?”

“Have you seen yourself in football pants?”

He groans. “You see, this is why I wanted to spill my guts a while ago,” he says. “First, you’re all rational and making great points, and then you say things like that and expect me not to want to kiss the living daylights out of you?” He shakes his head, sighing. “It’s cruel, really.”

“Ah, you see, but that’s why we took a limo here,” she says, smirking as she swipes a hand up and down. “Dividers.”

He chuckles. “God, I love you.”

“I know,” she says simply, grinning back at him as she nods towards the door.

“What do you say to reports that you’re refusing a paternity test?”

“Steve, are the Avengers thinking of putting in a trade request?”

“Are you getting back together with Peggy Carter?”

“Is it true your divorce was never filed?”

Bright flashes go off as Steve makes his way across the parking lot of the gym, keeping his chin up as he pretends not to hear the deluge of questions being yelled at him. It’s with practiced patience that he puts one foot in front of the other, carefully weaving through the paparazzi and the endless microphones and cameras they have pointed at him as he tries to make it to his car. Two days have passed since Peggy’s first on-air interview, and despite releasing an official statement coupled with support from both Point Break and the Avengers, his days have been nothing short of an absolute maelstrom with Peggy continuing on with her press junket.

“Why won’t you acknowledge that you’ve fathered a child, Steve?”

The question comes just as he’s about to pull open the door to the back seat, and immediately, his hand curls around the strap of the duffel bag he has dangling over his shoulder. Every atom in his body beseeches him to turn around and demand that these people explain why they choose to spread falsehoods. Why, in spite of having unlimited access to his official statement, they choose to manipulate his words. But if there’s one thing he knows about having gone through a media firestorm like this before, it’s that doing so is a fool’s errand. This is a job to these people, and unfortunately for him, twisting his circumstances is simply a means for them to garner more clicks for their article. It’s with that reminder that he takes a deep breath, pulling open the car door to deposit his bag in the backseat before pushing it shut.

“No comment,” he says to no one in particular as he maneuvers his way into the driver’s seat, puts the car in drive, and steps on the gas.

“This is getting out of hand,” Sam says later that week as they wait for the pre-game day conference to begin, the magazine he flings down on the conference table before them landing with a smack. “The last thing we need right now is Steve’s career being put into question!”

Natasha reaches for the magazine, shaking her head as she reads the headline on the cover. “I understand where you’re coming from, Sam, but you know as well as I do that no good can come from dignifying this garbage with a response,” she says, ever the voice of reason as she turns away from Sam to look at him. “Our best defense is for you to do your talking on the field tomorrow.”

“Can’t splice a soundbite if it doesn’t exist,” he mutters dejectedly.

“Unfortunately,” Natasha says, sighing. “If we let them see that this is getting under your skin, they’ll spin it as an admission of guilt.”

He huffs out in exasperation. “Is there anything they won’t spin?”

“Natasha, we’re ready for you to give the lead-in.”

They all turn to see Wanda standing at the door, a clipboard in hand as she looks at Natasha. “Thanks, Wanda,” Natasha says with a nod. As she rises from her seat, she places a hand on his shoulder. “Just keep your answers to the game in there, all right?”

He nods reluctantly. “Okay.”

“Pietro, you and Sprite have been competing all season long for most yards covered by a running back,” Gemma Simmons, another reporter from SHIELD Sports, points out halfway through the conference. “You lead the count by a mere twenty yards, but with the upcoming game against the Eternals, do you have a plan to pad that lead?”

“Get off my ass and run faster than he does,” Pietro quips with a smile, sending Gemma and the entire media room into a fit of laughter. “What, you didn’t see that coming?” There’s another round of snickering before Pietro waves it off. “In all seriousness, though, my goal is just to do everything I can to help my team win the game. Individual accolades are nice and all, but what good are they if we don’t make the post-season?”

“Love the team spirit,” Gemma says, grinning. “Thanks, Pietro.”

Pietro tips his chin up in acknowledgment. “Thanks.”

There’s a shuffle amongst the reporters gathered before them, and from it emerges a man dressed casually in cargo pants and a black tee. “Brock Rumlow from the STRIKE Network,” the man – Rumlow, he reminds himself – says as he steps towards the microphone in front of the stage. “My question is for the quarterback.”

He nods towards Rumlow. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” Rumlow says, hitting record on his phone before looking right back at him. “Steve, the Eternals currently have the best defense in the league. How do you think the Avengers have prepared differently for this game as a result of that?”

“I’m not sure if differently is the right term to use,” he says, shifting in his seat as he clears his throat. “Certainly, the Eternals are a great team and are Super Bowl contenders at that, but whether we’re playing the team with the best defense or one that’s still finding their chemistry, the Avengers’ approach is to enter each game playing at the highest possible level. So, in that sense, I wouldn’t say our preparation has been different.”

“Interesting,” Rumlow remarks. “Does that mean you’ll be sitting this game out then?”

His brows furrow. “I don’t believe I follow.”

“You just said that the Avengers make sure to enter each game playing at the highest possible level,” Rumlow says. “Surely, that mission can’t be accomplished with a quarterback embroiled in a battle with his ex-wife-”

“I don’t see how that’s at all relevant to the game,” he interjects, biting down on the inside of his cheek.

“It is, though,” Rumlow presses, causing the room to fall noticeably silent save for the clicks of the cameras as everyone’s attention shifts to him. “How can fans expect your focus to be on the game when you have a mountain of problems off the field to worry about?”

“My focus is entirely on the game,” he says almost instantly, and before he can think better of it, he adds, “and the fans will know it when we win that game tomorrow.”

The room erupts in applause as he leans back into his seat, but as he observes the smirk that paints Rumlow’s face and then the nearly too put-together expression on Natasha’s from her seat on his other side, there’s no doubting the real winner of that round.

“I messed up, didn’t I?” he asks the second Natasha walks out of the media room at the conclusion of the conference, his legs stretched out before him as he sits on the ground with his back against the wall.

Natasha puffs out her cheeks in a sigh. “Messed up might be a little harsh,” she says, tucking her hands into her pockets as she moves towards him. “But you did say when we win.” She lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Steve, you do realize that you just wrote that check, right? I haven’t had a chance to look, but I’m pretty sure the talking heads on Sports Center are already having a field day with that statement.”

“I’ll bet,” he says, letting out a scoff before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Nat. I felt cornered and I went off script. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s fine,” she says. “I know this week’s been… long, to say the least. And anyway, if we don’t slip every now and then, what else are those people going to talk about?”

He looks up at the ceiling and then back at her. “I’m going to have to cash that check.”

“Would help,” she admits before nodding towards the other end of the hallway. “We should go. It’s getting late.”

“Any chance I can convince you to come home with me?” he asks, jutting his lower lip out.

“I would if I could,” she says, smiling sadly as she offers both her hands to him to help him up. “You know that.”

He sighs in concession as he gets back on his feet. “Walk you to your car, at least?”

“We’re parked next to each other,” she points out, rolling her eyes.

“A happy coincidence,” he quips, to which she only shakes her head. He takes her hand in his, bringing it up to kiss her knuckles, and his heart instantly fills with warmth at the tender smile that makes its way across her lips. It’s as they begin to walk towards the facility’s exit that he asks, “How’s Yelena?”

“Neck deep in finals prep,” she says. “But not too neck deep that she can’t drop by my place to raid my closet and my pantry.”

He chuckles as they turn a corner. “Like you’d have it any other way.”

“True,” she says, letting go of his hand as they reach the gates leading to the back of the building. She scans her badge at the reader, and with a beep, the gates begin to slide open. “Actually, she and I-”

Natasha’s words are cut off by the clamor on the other side of the gate, and as they both turn towards the sound, they’re confronted by a sea of white light as cameras as far as their eyes can see flash incessantly before them. Reporters yell a glut of questions, but the sheer volume only congeals them all into a deafening roar.

“What the hell is going on?” he tries to say over the noise, eyes squinting from the brightness as he turns to Natasha.

“No clue,” she all but yells back as she rolls her shoulders and snaps on the calm and collected expression he’s seen her put on countless times at this point. “All right, everyone. Please move back!”

“Natasha, wait!” he tries to say, reaching for her arm, only it’s too late because she’s already stepping forward and into the melee. He hears her yell out instructions to the crowd once more, but she may as well be shouting into a void as the response is only another cacophony of questions. “Nat!” he says, pushing through the throng of people in an attempt to catch up to her.

It’s as if time slows, so much so that he witnesses everything in all its vivid glory. It starts with a chorus of ringing, like that of a million notifications popping onto screens simultaneously, and for the briefest of milliseconds, silence falls upon the parking lot as everyone stops to check. Just as quickly as it falters, though, the ruckus returns in full swing, this time louder and more vociferous. But as his ears begin to ring, the crowd starts to close in on them rapidly, and he can only watch in horror as Natasha’s knocked off her feet. “Natasha!”

Her head is spinning. And it’s nothing to do with the fact that for the first time in her career, she almost got trampled by a mix of reporters and paparazzi despite years of having to herd the former across the field after every game. It’s not even the pain radiating from her wrist at the moment. She grew up chasing down her rambunctious little sister – she can handle rowdy. She can handle pain. But what she’s apparently not equipped for is the scene she can see unfolding through the blinds from her seat on the exam table. Or, more specifically, the scene of Steve burning a hole through the ground as he paces up and down the hall of the medical wing of the facility.

“You’re not usually my type of patient.”

She looks up to find Stephen Strange, the Avengers team doctor, clad in a white lab coat as he stands by the now open door of the room. “I wrote the press release for when they completed the renovation of this wing,” she says, shrugging as she watches Strange push the door shut. “Thought I’d see what the fuss was all about.”

“There are less painful ways to get the grand tour, you know,” Strange remarks as he makes his way over to her.

“You saw, huh?” she prods with a sigh.

Strange takes her wrist gingerly in his own hands, nodding towards the phone in her lap that hasn’t stopped lighting up like it’s New Year’s Freaking Eve as he begins his examination. “Pretty sure the entire country has.”

Strange’s quip elicits a cringe from her as she reverts her gaze back to her screen where twin crises are currently unfolding across the many tabs she has open. The first one – the one that had caused the commotion that had knocked her off her feet – is the copy of the amniocentesis results that Peggy released to the public along with an official statement:

While I had initially planned to raise this child on my own, I knew even then that my decision was based on the deep hurt I still felt over the events that had led to the dissolution of my marriage. Regardless, I had hoped that one day I would find it in me to let go of all that and do the right thing. That is why on the twentieth week of my pregnancy, with the support of my medical team, I decided to have an amniocentesis performed - first and foremost to ensure that my child was healthy, but also to eliminate any doubts about its parentage should those ever arise.

I understand my former spouse's reluctance to provide credence to my claim, but it is my hope that by releasing these results, any hesitation he may feel can be put to rest.

Peggy Carter

Had this been the typical news cycle, she knows that media outlets would be plastering the contents of this test all over their screens by now, their chyrons announcing its existence in bold letters as their hosts dissect each and every line on the page for their eager audiences. And she wouldn’t blame them. From a Public Relations standpoint, Peggy’s move is brilliant, projecting an air of confidence on her part and making Steve look like the one stalling to confirm it as they wait for the go-signal from their legal team. Only, that’s not what’s happening tonight. Not entirely, anyway. Because while the press is gobbling up Peggy’s gift to them like candy, they can’t be completely focused on it either – not when there’s a video of Steve angrily yelling at a paparazzo, nearly pushing the man out of the way as he attempts to get her to safety. And if she’s being honest, that’s truly the part that’s making her head feel as though something is hammering at her temples.

“Seems like you got lucky,” Strange says, breaking her out of her reverie. “Just a sprain, Ms. Romanoff. Should heal in a few days.”

“Funny, I thought lucky would hurt a lot less,” she says.

A smirk makes its way across Strange’s lips as he finishes wrapping a bandage around her wrist. “Ice for the swelling, Ibuprofen for the pain,” he says, looking pointedly at her. “Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbles before smiling. “Thanks, Doc.”

Strange nods, making his way towards the door. “And Natasha? Don’t make a habit out of visiting.”

She rolls her eyes at that, shaking her head as Strange leaves with a wink. The doctor is barely gone a few seconds before the door opens once more, and she looks up to see Steve standing in the doorway.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his tone tight.

“Yeah, just a sprain,” she says, allowing a little smile to form on her lips as she holds her injured wrist with her good hand. “Don’t worry, I can still throw the ball tomorrow if you get tired.”

“Natasha,” he says, a heavy sigh falling from his lips as he closes the distance between them to help her down from the exam table. “Please don’t make light of this.”

“You’re right,” she says, “because Steve, we’re going to have to do some damage control. By Peggy putting out those results-”

“I don’t care about that right now,” he interrupts curtly.

“The public doesn’t know that we’re waiting for the court to mandate the test,” she points out, her eyes widening in disbelief when the exasperated look on his face does not dissipate. “You do realize that gives Peggy the upper hand now, right?”

“And do you realize that you could’ve gotten crushed out there?” he counters before letting out a scoff. “So, no, Nat. I couldn’t care less about Peggy and whatever the hell she’s doing right now.”

“Then do you care that you’re now the quarterback with anger management issues lashing out at paparazzi? Because there’s that, too!” she volleys back, inhaling deeply to center herself. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate you helping me back there, Steve. But the flack you’re going to get because of it? It’s just not worth it.”

“Not worth it?” he repeats incredulously. “Natasha, you were on the ground in what was basically a stampede, and miraculously, a sprained wrist is all you walked away with. Whatever they say or write about me tonight? You can be damn sure it’s worth it.” He shakes his head, sighing. “Look, I’m sorry if my actions tonight make your job that much more difficult, but I am not going to apologize for what I did.”

Emotion flashes in his eyes, and for the first time since this frenzy erupted, she finally recognizes it – the fear. The guilt. And just like that, the fight she had in her, the fight that was keeping her chin tipped up in challenge, fades away. “Hey,” she says, bringing her unbandaged hand to his arm as she meets his gaze. “That out there? None of that was your fault, Steve.”

“She’s doing this to get to me,” he says, and he doesn’t even have to say her name for her to know whom he’s referring to. “It should’ve been me. I’m the one the crowd wanted to interrogate. I-”

“And I’m the one whose job it is to face the press,” she says firmly. “Wading into hordes of people just comes with the territory. I’ve done it so many times I’ve lost count.” She lets the hand she has on his arm slide down to intertwine their fingers. “Tonight was an anomaly, Steve. That’s it.” She squeezes his hand as she adds, “I’m fine.”

A beat passes before he melts into her touch, and then he’s wrapping his arms around her. “God, Nat,” he breathes into her hair. “Seeing you on the ground like that scared me half to death.”

“I’m fine,” she reiterates, pulling away enough that she can look at him. “I don’t break easily, Steve.”

“I know that,” he says, his tone sounding certain for the first time all night. “But if something happens to you? Because of me, no less?” He swallows. “Natasha, I will break.”

“You won’t,” she says, echoing back the words he’d told her back in his apartment when they’d finally bared their hearts to one another. “But even if you do, you’re Steve Rogers. When you break, you stand up and put yourself back together again. I know that because I’ve seen it.” She brings a hand up to his face, running her thumb across the line of his jaw. “Peggy, the media… they know that, too.” She shakes her head. “Don’t let them get to you, okay?”

His only response is to stare at her, unconvinced. But before she can push the issue further, her phone rings. “Natasha Romanoff,” she says, bringing her phone up to her ear without looking at the screen. It’s when she hears the panicked voice on the other end that she cringes, prompting Steve to shoot her yet another concerned glance. She sighs. “Mom, I’m okay! Everything is okay.”

Home sweet home!

Relief washes over Steve as he reads Natasha’s message. He wanted to drive her home tonight – had insisted on it, even. But she was adamant that not only would doing so cause a bigger stir should anyone catch it, but also that he needed to get his rest for the game tomorrow. He wanted to say that he didn’t care. That, regardless of the rumors the image of him dropping her off at her apartment would spark or the loss of sleep the added trip would cost him, that seeing with his own two eyes that she’d gotten home safely, would make it all worth it. But he’s aware of how much added trouble he’s already caused her tonight, so despite the worry eating away at him, he’d reluctantly agreed to a compromise: she would take an Uber and text him the second she was settled in.

The ping of a new notification breaks him out of his thoughts, and when he looks down, an amused smile grazes his lips when he sees the follow up picture Natasha sends him of her in bed with the duvet pulled all the way up to her chin. Sweet dreams, he types before adding, I love you.

I love you, too. Now go to bed!

Yes, ma’am. He taps send, setting his phone down next to him on the couch before allowing himself to rest back against the cushions, the exhaustion of the day sinking in bone-deep. He hadn’t exaggerated what he told Natasha down at the clinic. Seeing her on the ground tonight as the crowd closed in had put his heart in his throat. And it’s not as though he ever thought of Natasha as fragile. From the moment he met her at the bar that night, it became evident that she was anything but, and getting to know her better these last few months has only underscored that.

Maybe it’s the infinite grace and empathy that she shows even in the most trying of situations. Or maybe it’s how without having to think about it, she always puts everyone else before herself. He can’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but somewhere along the way, she had become precious to him. If he could, he would lay the world at her feet, because that’s what she deserves. It’s for that reason that the thought that she could’ve gotten seriously hurt tonight weighs on him like a collapsed building. She may have taken everything in stride, but had she emerged from this all with more than just a sprained wrist – for something he had a hand in causing, no less – he’s not certain he could live with the anguish.

With a final huff, he extricates himself from the comfort of his couch to turn in for the night. But just as he’s about to tug on the switch on his lamp, he hears his doorbell ring. It’s with furrowed brows that he walks over to the monitor Sam had recently set up on his credenza, checking the feed on the camera on his front door and muttering a curse under his breath when he sees who’s standing there.

He makes his way over to the door with long strides, letting out an annoyed sigh as he pulls it open. “I’m getting real tired of you showing up here uninvited.”

Before him, Peggy is undeterred by his less than warm welcome as she pushes her way past him. “I think it’s time you and I talk, just the two of us.”

“After the stunts you’ve been pulling these last few days?” he asks, keeping a hand on the door as he shakes his head. “No, we’re way past that, Peggy. Anything you have to say to me, you can say through our lawyers.” He points a thumb over his shoulder. “Now, get out. The only time I want to see you is when we both appear for the test.”

Peggy shrugs nonchalantly. “Ah, but we’re not taking that test.”

He scoffs. “I don’t have the bandwidth for your games tonight, Peggy,” he says, opening the door wider. “So please, just get out.”

Peggy holds a finger up, and he looks on exasperatedly as she reaches into her purse to pull out her phone. She thumbs through the screen before hitting play.

“You see, this is why I wanted to spill my guts a while ago...”

The second he hears his own voice fill the room, it’s as though his blood runs cold, and he’s powerless to do anything but stand rooted in place.

“…first, you’re all rational and making great points, and then you say things like that and expect me not to want to kiss the living daylights out of you? It’s cruel, really.”

“Ah, you see, that’s why we took a limo here… Dividers."

“God, I love you.”

“I know."

A smirk tugs at Peggy’s lips as she pauses the clip. “The next time you and Ms. Romanoff decide to have a tete-a-tete, you two really ought to choose someplace more private. You just never know who could be listening.”

“You’re having me followed,” he accuses, disgust thick in his tone.

“Hardly,” Peggy says, crossing her arms over her chest. “You see, you’ve never been one to put up a fight. Not in the media, at least. That’s always been my thing, really. So imagine my surprise when I find out that you’re now into” – she gestures broadly with one hand – “putting out official statements and mouthing off at press conferences.” She smiles, stepping closer to him. “When I saw you swoop in like a white knight to save Natasha tonight, I had an inkling.” She waves her phone in her hands. “But when this happened to fall into my lap? Then I knew for certain.”

“Where did you get that?” he manages to grit out, his eyes narrowing. “Who gave it to you?”

“I wish you could see your face right now,” Peggy says, all but snorting. “What? Do you really think that just because you and the owner happen to be lads that everyone in that office likes you?” She scoffs. “You’re a commodity to them, something to make a quick buck out of. Which, if you were too naïve to know, I assure you your paramour did. But then again, she was probably off her game. Too busy getting lost in your eyes.”

“Peggy,” he says, “I swear-”

“Do you remember what they did to me, Steve?” Peggy asks before he can go any further. “How they made my life a living hell even as I did nothing but stand by your side, win or lose? And that was before they knew of all our problems.” She tilts her head to the side. “I wonder what they’d do to the woman whose job it was to revive your career when they find out about your little dalliance.”

“Why are you doing this?” he asks, his eyes wide as he stares incredulously at her. “What is it that you want, Peggy?”

Peggy disregards his question with a roll of her eyes. “As I was saying, we’re not taking that test. In fact, you’re going to ask your lawyers to withdraw your request,” she says. “Then you’re going to call for a press conference to say that you’ve chosen to accept the results that I released.”

His lips part in disbelief at the nonchalance in her demeanor. “That’s not my child,” he says, never more certain of the truth than at this very second. “You might as well just say it. You wouldn’t be doing this otherwise.” Peggy does not reply, prompting him to shake his head. “You can’t keep this up, Peggy. Even if I do this, sooner or later, the truth is going to come out. It always does.”

“Is that before or after the paparazzi run your girlfriend’s car into a tree?” Peggy muses, causing him to swallow hard. She steps towards the door before looking back at him. “You’ve forty-eight hours.”

Thanks

It’s nothing. That’s what Natasha tells herself as she reads the one-word text Steve sent after she’d wished him good luck prior to the game. But given the week he’s had, she surmises that he’s just put the blinders on – focusing on nothing other than winning. It’s with that reminder that she slides her phone into her pocket, turning her attention to the game from her seat in the executive box. Before her, Clint takes a few steps back from the ball, his eyes trained towards the goal. When the whistle blows, he begins his approach from the right, taking a drive step before allowing his foot to collide with the pigskin.

“Yes!” Yelena yells, jumping up from her seat as the ball sails through the posts and puts the Avengers up by three points over the Eternals. “Ha! Take that, suckers!”

A smile tugs at her lips as she looks to her side to see Melina shaking her head at Yelena’s antics. “Yelena,” Melina says, “act like you weren’t raised by wolves, please.”

Yelena juts her lower lip out, pouting. “But Barton just put my fantasy team in the lead!”

“Is your team only comprised of Avengers?” she asks. “Because I’m pretty sure that strategy is going to backfire on you later in the season. We do have a bye-week coming up.”

“I’m sorry, are you the manager of my team?” Yelena retorts.

She rolls her eyes as Yelena reverts her attention back to the game. “Thank you for coming all the way down here,” she says, turning to Melina, who only raises a brow at her. She sighs. “I know you’re in the middle of a clinical trial, is all.”

“You are clearly injured,” Melina says, gesturing towards her still bandaged wrist as she narrows her eyes at her. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to find out that your daughter has been hurt? From a news segment of all places?”

She grimaces. “I was going to tell you-”

“When?” Melina interjects. “When were you going to tell me that a crowd crushed-”

“Almost crushed,” she mumbles, grinning sheepishly when Melina glares icily at her. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s been a rough few days.”

Melina’s expression softens, a sympathetic smile pulling at her lips as she reaches for her hand. “Sprained wrist notwithstanding, you’re okay, yes?”

“Yeah,” she says, scooting over to lean her head on Melina’s shoulder. “I’ve just had a lot on my plate recently.”

“So you and…” – Melina nods towards the screen just as the camera focuses on Steve as the Avengers take possession of the ball again before looking back at her – “I don’t want to pry, malyshka, but I’ve seen the news. In the midst of everything, outside of being his publicist, there’s no other mention of you. I hope he’s not-”

“He wanted to make it public,” she assures her. “And I’ve told Pepper, but given everything that’s going on...” She inhales deeply before sighing. “The timing’s just not perfect right now.”

“It never is,” Melina notes, causing her to lift her head off her shoulder. “I’m glad he helped you out of that crowd, though. I know my girls can take care of yourselves, but I sleep better knowing there are others looking out for you, too.” She nudges her shoulder with her own. “He seems like a good man. But then again, I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him, so how would I know?”

“Mom,” she admonishes, shooting Melina a withering look. Melina shrugs in response, prompting her to chuckle. “And he is a really good man… Everything’s just a little crazy right now.”

“You’ve always been a great judge of character,” Melina says, dropping a kiss to her hair. “If you say he’s a really good man, then that’s that.” She sighs. “Just be safe out there, please. Because I swear to God, the next person that throws you on the ground will answer to me.”

She chuckles. “I believe-”

“No!”

Yelena’s impassioned cry prompts both her and Melina to turn towards the window, but before she can even look down onto the field, the announcer’s voice is already echoing through the speakers inside the box.

“Intercepted! Rogers throws right into Gilgamesh’s hands, and the Eternals’ linebacker dodges coverage from Barnes and heads straight into the end zone for a pick-six! Eternals lead by 3 with two minutes left in the game!”

She cranes her neck to get a look at the screen just as the camera pans to Steve. As he begins to walk towards the sidelines, the sight of his shoulders slumped heavily causes her to sigh. “Shit.”

“You should get down there,” she hears Melina say, prompting her to look back to find both her mother and her sister nodding at her.

“I’ll come find you after the post-game interviews,” she says, rising from her seat.

Melina smiles softly. “Come find us when you’re ready.”

The field spans endlessly. At least, that’s how it feels after a loss. The whistle has just blown, sealing the Avengers’ heartbreaking 10-13 defeat to the Eternals as she shepherds Maria Hill and her crew across the grass and towards where Steve is still shaking the hand of Ikaris, the Eternal’s quarterback. As Ikaris leaves, Steve looks up, meeting her gaze, and though she tries to offer him a small smile, he quickly diverts his attention towards Maria as the woman thrusts her mic in his direction and jumps right into a question about what went wrong.

“My team played their hearts out tonight,” Steve says. “I was the one who ultimately put too much into the throw that led to the interception, so this one is on me. I take full accountability for that, and I can only hope to do better in the next game.” He shrugs. “So, we keep our chins up and keep looking forward.”

Maria nods. “Thanks, Cap.”

“Thanks, Maria,” Steve says, and as he turns to leave, she tries not to make anything of the way he avoids her stare – or the fact that he’s nowhere to be found by the time she makes it back into the tunnel.

“This is on me.”

From his seat on the bench in front of his locker, Steve looks to his side to see Bucky, the man’s expression sullen as he plops down next to him with a towel hanging off the shoulder of his grass-stained jersey.

Bucky sighs. “I shouldn’t have left my compression sleeve where my dog could reach.”

“Your dog ate your sleeve?” he asks, his brows furrowing.

“Yeah,” Bucky confirms along with a solemn nod. “I’ve been wearing the same one for all our games, then yesterday, Gandalf ripped it to shreds.” He huffs out. “I would have made that catch if I had that sleeve.”

“I threw the pick, Buck,” he says, clasping the man on the shoulder. “Pretty sure me and my shitty throw are to blame.”

“We didn’t stop their linebacker, either.”

The argument comes from Pietro, and when he looks up, he finds the rest of the team huddling around them, all nodding in agreement. He shakes his head. “You all gave your everything on that field tonight,” he says. “I was the one who got cocky at the press conference, and I was the one who threw the ball into the wrong hands. This loss is on me.”

“We’re a team, Cap,” T’Challa says from across from him. “Win together, lose together. Your words.”

His lips quirk at the knowing stare T’Challa shoots him, and he shakes his head before eyeing the rest of the team. “Thanks, guys.”

Despite the show of support from his teammates, the weight in his chest still lingers as he shuts his locker and finds his way back to the bench. The room is deserted now, silent save for the sound of water as it continues to filter to the drain from the long and scalding shower he’d taken. In his solitude, he finally allows his shoulders to slump as he runs a hand over his face. When he had walked into the stadium this afternoon, he thought he’d tuned the rest of the world out, that it was just him and the game – the way it always is on game day. But if his performance tonight is any indication, it’s obvious that the most he’s done is lower the volume.

He’s not sure why he does it. Nothing good has ever come of it, and he reckons that it’s no different from putting your finger to a flame, knowing it’s going to burn, and doing it anyway. But even so, he finds himself reaching for his phone with the intention of finding what the pundits online have to say about his less than stellar outing tonight. But as his screen comes to light, he’s sidetracked by the amalgam of notifications that greets him. The first one is a message from his mom – a simple I love you – with a timestamp from exactly when the whistle blew, and for a second, that’s enough to provide him a little reprieve from the woes of his day. But the relief is fleeting, melting away the moment he sees the little dot on the top corner of the icon for his voicemail.

“Hi,” he hears Natasha say as he hits play and brings his phone to his ear. “I know this night didn’t go the way you’d hoped, so just wanted to check in… I understand if you need your space right now, but just know that if you want to talk, I’m working late, but I’m always a phone call away… Goodnight. ”

A sigh escapes his lips as Natasha’s message ends. When he had sent her a curt thanks after she’d wished him good luck this afternoon, he’d justified it by telling himself that he couldn’t concentrate on anything that did not involve winning the game. But between the way he avoided her concerned gaze tonight as she ushered Maria towards him and this voicemail, that emotion has only evolved into complete and utter shame. After everything she’s done, she deserves better than short replies and avoidance – and yet, as unfair as he’s acting, after last night, there isn’t a doubt in his mind that this is still kinder than any of the options he has for his next move.

Do you remember what they did to me, Steve?

His eyes fall shut as he recalls Peggy’s question, the same one that’s been running on loop in his mind since she asked it. He wishes he could say that it’s all a part of her mind games. And while he still can’t discount the idea, as he stared up at the ceiling last night, waiting for sleep that never came, he couldn’t help but do just that – remember. Remember the headlines and the never-ending media coverage that put their marriage under scrutiny. Yes, he was subjected to it as well, but in retrospect, he realizes his position as an athlete that many people rooted for gave him more leeway. Peggy had made mistakes, of course, but he’d be lying if he said that the harsh treatment of her hadn’t started before that, her every single move put under the microscope for no other reason than she was his wife.

Back then, Peggy had reassured him that she could handle it, and in his belief in all that she was capable of, he had whole-heartedly taken her word for it. And to her credit, for many years, it appeared as though she could. She rolled with the punches, let all the gossip and the rumors and the unsolicited opinions about every little thing she did, slide. It wasn’t until she had gotten home one day to the apartment they shared in Los Angeles that he saw it – the resentment thick and encompassing in her eyes as she informed him of yet another producer that had refused to hire her. Not the right fit, she had said, which he quickly learned was code for not wanting to deal with the baggage that came along with her.

It’s then that he thought back to Peggy sitting in his dining room, glaring at him from across the table, and it dawned on him that the look in Peggy’s eyes was still as potent as the day he’d first realized it was present. But more than that, it occurred to him that she’s never looked at him any other way since.

And perhaps that’s the reason he hasn’t been able to communicate with Natasha beyond a single word, to look her in the eyes. It’s not that he doubts her love for him nor her strength. But he’s no stranger to this story, the least of all its ending and its subsequent aftermath. If he’s learned anything from the deterioration of his relationship with Peggy, it’s that not only is the chaos in his world capable of crushing even the most tenacious of people, but also that it’s inextricable from him. No matter how hard he tries to start anew, the turmoil always follows, and he can’t be the reason another person gets swallowed by it – especially not Natasha.

The thought nearly knocks the wind right out him as his next move becomes excruciatingly evident, and though he’s loss count of the number of times he’s been taken to the ground, there isn’t a doubt in his mind that he’s never struggled to get back on his feet more than right in this very moment.

He’s prolonging the inevitable. The thought does not escape him as he silently leans against the doorframe of the media room, watching as Natasha types away on her laptop. She’s zoned out, so lost in concentration that she doesn’t even sense his presence. And for a brief second, he allows himself to just watch her. There’s a tension to her posture as she sits behind one of the tables, and her eyebrows are knitted together in concentration as her fingers move over the keys, accentuating the little V just above her nose bridge. But even so, he notes that she’s still a striking sight, beautiful in more ways than one. There’s a part of him that wishes he could freeze this moment, hang onto it like it’s all that’s left of a treasured keepsake. But he knows he can’t, so with a heavy heart, he lifts a fist to the door, tapping lightly.

Natasha looks up at the sound, her gaze shifting from her screen to him. He catches the way relief washes over her features when she finds him standing there, and that alone causes a lump to form in his throat. “Hey,” she says, a smile forming on her lips. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

“Can’t say I thought the same about you,” he tries for size, his lips quirking ever so faintly at the shameless shrug she gives in response. “Natasha.” His voice cracks slightly at the end, and he clears his throat in an attempt to pull himself together. “Can we talk?”

“Of course,” she says, rising from her seat as she makes her way to him. The second she’s standing before him, she engulfs him in her arms, pulling him close. “I’m so sorry about tonight.”

He closes his eyes, melting into her embrace even though knows he shouldn’t. “Thank you,” he says, inhaling the scent of her shampoo, making sure to commit it to memory as he slowly pulls away. “That’s not what I came to talk about, though.”

“No?” she asks, concern coloring her expression. “Is it about what you said at the press conference again? Because I’ve already spoken to some-”

“No, it’s not that,” he interrupts quietly, shaking his head as she looks expectantly up at him. When he came up here, he was determined to tell her the truth – that he knows she’s strong. That he knows she’s above and beyond what he could have ever hoped for in someone who loves him back. But as he stares into her eyes, finding the staunch determination in them, it becomes clear to him that there’s only one thing he can say right now if he’s to shield her from everything that’s to come. “Natasha…” he breathes out. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“Of course you can,” she says immediately, stepping forward to cup his face in her hands. “Steve, listen to me. It was one bad game.”

He shakes his head. “I meant us, Nat.”

The second the words leave his mouth, she retracts her hands away from him, taking a step back. “Oh,” she says, “I see.”

“It’s just… the loss tonight,” he tries to explain, pausing to swallow as he watches her blink once, twice, thrice. “With everything else that’s going on, I can’t lose sight of what’s most important.” The way she parts her lips only to press them back down – as if she’s struggling to find her words – sears excruciatingly into his mind, eliciting a quiet gasp from him. “Natasha, I’m sorry-”

“No, don’t be,” she says almost instantly, nodding her head. “We said we wouldn’t stand in each other’s ways, right?”

“Nat-” he begins, only for the rest of his sentence to die when he sees the way her chin tips up, the pain that had found its way into her features seemingly dissipating right before his very eyes as the mask he’s come to know so well snaps right on.

“You don’t have to explain, Steve,” she says, the crispness of her tone feeling like a dagger to his heart as her eyes meet his. “Is there anything else?”

“No,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I- I guess not.”

“Okay, then,” she says, as if she’s dismissing nothing more than a meeting. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he echoes back, watching as she turns to walk back to her laptop.

It takes a feat of strength, but somehow, he manages to pivot the opposite way, making his way out of the room and into the dark, empty hall. It’s solely by memory that he navigates his way out of the facility and towards the parking lot, his legs leaden with every step he takes to his car. He feels blindly for his keys, barely managing to press unlock before getting into the driver’s seat. His hands reach for the steering wheel, looking for something to grip, to keep him tethered.

He inhales deeply, trying to force air into his lungs in hopes that it might somehow alleviate even the slightest bit of pain in his chest. But it’s futile, unsurprisingly. The second he realized that his only option was to let Natasha go, he knew that regardless of how he would manage to do it, that it was always going to hurt. But watching her put a wall up between them right then and there, as if they were nothing more than strangers, he doesn’t have to think twice to know that no amount of time in the world could have helped brace him for the resulting affliction of that experience. His every instinct tells him to run back inside, find her, and tell her that he didn’t mean a thing he said.

But then he’s reminded of her words, of their promise – We said we wouldn’t stand in each other’s ways, right? His hand collides with the wheel in frustration. How something that was initially meant to protect one another has come to deal them devastating blows, he does not know. And yet, their tattered hearts notwithstanding, he recognizes that they’re both only trying to uphold their respective ends of the bargain.

It’s ultimately that thought that keeps him in his seat. While he didn’t know much at the moment, what he does know is that the damage has been done, and something – anything – needs to come out of all this wreckage. With that, he lets out yet another sigh, switching on the ignition before typing the location on his GPS: Griffith Hotel.

“Come to your senses, have you?” Peggy asks, a smirk on her face when she opens her hotel room door to find him standing on the other side.

“Maybe the opposite,” he admits. “But if this is how you want to play this game, then so be it.” Peggy arches a brow at him, prompting him to shake his head. “I’m taking that test, Peggy.”

Chapter 6 | Chapter 8

#Romanogers #Game Plan #Steve Rogers #Natasha Romanoff #natrogers #One Night Stand AU

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honeypiehotchner · 4 years ago

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intelligence & issues (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- chapter twenty-two

I’m liking this two updates a week schedule because I hate leaving you guys hanging like that!! I hope this chapter makes it all better xx.

Oh btw the title of this chapter and last chapter are lyrics from “Hold On” by Chord Overstreet! (Also I know the gif is irrelevant but the ~emotion~ of it is relevant)

ALSO (wow I have a lot I keep forgetting to add) I meant to @ her last chapter, but all of these medical scenes and things were 100% done with the help of @thedumpsterqueen because I know next to nothing about all this stuff and she was an angel and let me ask all the crazy questions <333 (P.S. she has a Hotch fic called Standards of Performance on her blog that you guys should alllll read if you haven’t already!! It’s SO good it’s one of my favorites)

Warnings: angst and sadness, but that’s pretty much it

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Chapter Twenty-Two: I can’t imagine a world with you gone

Everything is a blur in Hotch’s mind before and after the first gunshot rings through the air. He didn’t need to hear the buzzing in his ear to know it had hit you.

He took off at a sprint, as did the rest of the team.

His ears are ringing. His thoughts are racing. He’s never been a man who talks frequently to God, but he’s praying. Hoping you’re alive. Begging you to not be dead.

Aaron would never forgive himself if you died. As it stands, though, he won’t ever forgive himself for this.

Prentiss, Reid, and Rossi take off in one direction. Hotch and Morgan take the other. Police officers fill the gaps and follow behind, everyone searching for you and Savannah.

Morgan is the first to stumble on the room. His throat aches when he screams for Hotch, keeping his weapon aimed at Savannah.

“Put the gun down!” Morgan yells.

Hotch comes skidding to a stop in the doorway a second later, weapon raised, but his eyes are focused on you. Savannah’s boot is pressing into your thigh, blood oozing from your wound, soaking your pants, spilling onto the concrete. Hotch’s heart drops at the sight. He’s seen enough bullet wounds to know how much blood should come from them. That is too much.

The bullet must’ve hit the major artery. And the thought terrifies him.

Morgan takes the shot when Savannah refuses to move. It hits her stomach and she stumbles for a moment before falling. Morgan yells for the paramedics again, distantly thinking they should be in here by now.

Hotch falls to the ground beside you, his hands cupping your face, not caring who sees. His thumbs tap your cheeks, willing you to open your eyes. You have a pulse, but it’s weak. Weaker than what it should be.

He presses hard over your wound, hoping to slow the bleeding, but there’s more surrounding your leg than he wants to see.

“Y/N?” He says, his eyes watching your eyelids for any movement. He lets out a momentary sigh of relief when your eyes open. “Y/N, please, can you hear me?”

You stare back at him, no signs of his words registering in your eyes. They’re empty. Haunted, again, but for a different reason this time. This time it’s different. “Aaron…”

“I’m here,” Hotch says gently, pressing his hand harder, his heart breaking when you groan in pain. “I know,” he says, shushing you.

Your eyes travel around the room then, and Aaron follows. Morgan is pressing his hand over Savannah’s wound, speaking into his wrist, asking the others where the hell the paramedics are at.

But Aaron doesn’t want you to see that, so he cups your jaw again, turning your eyes back on him. He smiles as best he can, the tears beginning to spill from his eyes as he takes in your face.

“There’s my girl,” he says softly. “Keep holding on. They’re almost here.”

“Aaron,” you try to say, your voice low and strained, and Aaron shakes his head, trying to get you to stop talking. “Aaron...I don’t wanna go without-- I need to tell you that I--”

“Shhh,” he tries again, not wanting you to waste any energy. “You don’t need to.”

“I love you,” you finally get it out. And he’s stunned to complete silence and tears. “I love you so...so much. It hurts.”

“Y/N,” he says, panicked. Your eyes are closing. “Y/N! Come back, Y/N, come back to me. Y/N. Y/N, please.”

Hotch is too caught up in holding your face and keeping pressure on your wound to notice the paramedics have arrived. One team goes to Savannah, relieving Morgan, while the other comes to you, trying to usher Hotch away, but he doesn’t budge.

“Hotch,” Morgan tugs on the unit chief, grabbing at his arms, his heart breaking for the both of you. “Hotch, you need to let them get to her.”

Reluctantly, Hotch backs up, clenching his bloodied fist, grimacing at the way your blood sticks his skin together.

Everything else is a blur.

What does it need to be clear for, anyway? If you’re not here?

+++

You’re still in surgery.

It’s been an hour. But it feels longer. It feels like it’s been an entire twenty-four hours.

The entire team has taken up camp in a waiting room at the hospital.

Reid is reading and rereading every magazine he can get his hands on to distract himself, never mind the fact that he reads them so fast that he rips a page on one from turning it so quickly. Morgan has Garcia on the phone and has left to get coffee at least three times, the first time returning with a tray of steaming cups and the next two times returning with only one, but two tearful eyes. Emily has been pacing and will wear a hole into the tile at this rate if she walks for another hour. JJ has been staring at the wall, chewing so hard on the inside of her cheek that she flinches when she draws blood.

Rossi has been staring at the wall, too, but mostly he’s been worrying about and watching Hotch.

Aaron has been biting his nails, tugging at his hair, angrily wiping away tears, and left once to go on a walk before returning two minutes later, asking if they had heard anything. Those two minutes had felt like two hours and he was worried sick for all 120 seconds that he missed something.

Dave hasn’t tried to say anything to Aaron, though he wants to. It’s heartbreaking to watch Aaron like this.

You’re going to pull through. Dave — and the rest of the team — can’t afford to think otherwise. And they refuse to think otherwise, unable to imagine what it would be like if you weren’t here.

But it seems like Aaron is thinking otherwise.

Truthfully, he is. But he’s thinking about so much more.

You love him. You love him. You love him.

And he was too stunned to say it back. The one chance he had, and it might be gone now. Ripped away. Forever.

He sent you in there. He did this to you. He had his reservations, but the call had already been made. You seemed so sure. You wanted to do this so badly. He didn’t want another fight about him not trusting you because it’s not about his trust for you, it’s about how terrified he was for you.

He’ll never forgive himself for this now. Not ever.

It’s a world he can’t even bear to imagine. One without you in it.

Yet here he is, grappling with the fact that he might not have to imagine it soon. He sent you in there. He knowingly put your life in danger. And now he’ll have to live with the consequences.

+++

Aaron is shaken from his trance by the doctor and a nurse coming in to inform the team that you’re out of surgery and that it went well.

But you’re in the ICU.

“She lost a great deal of blood,” the doctor says gravely. “But we think she’ll pull through. She just needs to be watched closely for the time being.”

Everyone nods silently, not sure of what else to say, other than feeling relief that you’re alive.

“Visiting hours are long over, so I recommend you all get some rest,” the nurse says. “She’s in good hands here.”

“Thank you,” Rossi replies.

The doctor excused himself, but the nurse stayed, offering to answer any extra questions. “Visiting hours start at seven a.m.,” she says first. “And in the ICU, only two visitors are allowed in her room at a time.” She doesn’t voice an apology, but one is in her tone as she glances between the six team members.

“Can I stay?” Hotch blurts out of nowhere. The team member’s heads all turn to look at him in surprise. “Can anyone stay the night, I mean.”

“Uh, yeah,” the nurse nods. “One person can.” Her eyebrows furrow sincerely. “Are you her dad?”

Morgan internalizes a snort.

“No,” Hotch replies kindly. “I’m not, but I’d like to stay. I’m her boss.”

Still the nurse looks skeptical. “Would she be okay with—”

“She’s his girlfriend,” Emily blurts out, tired of waiting. And when Hotch sends her a look, she says, “What? It would’ve taken you hours to say it.”

“Oh,” the nurse chuckles, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. Yes, of course you can stay.”

Hotch lets a tiny smile shine through, but it’s not much. Truth is, he’s terrified to see you. But leaving you here alone – even if this is a hospital – terrifies him more.

The rest of the team says goodbye to head back to the hotel for some much-needed rest, if they can sleep at all. They know they’ll wake every couple hours to worry about you before sleep consumes them once more.

In the meantime, Hotch will be here to look after you for all of them. You’re like a little sister to the rest of them, even though Morgan is the only one to have voiced that. You’re loved here. Loved more than you’ll ever be able to comprehend.

You’re loved by Aaron much more than he’ll ever be able to articulate to you. But he’ll try. He’ll try to help you see.

+++

Hotch is finally walking to your room in the ICU after another half hour of waiting. The nurse said they had to get everything settled in your room before he could come back, which only made Hotch’s worry spike even more.

But eventually, he’s in your room with you. A pillow and blanket is in the chair by the window, but he’s not paying attention to it.

You. You’re asleep, of course, and probably will be for a few more hours. The nurse said you had already woken up once, but because of the pain medicine and the overall stress your body has been under in the past few hours, you fell back to sleep almost instantly.

Tears well in his eyes at the sight of you, laid up in the hospital bed, IVs and wires all over you. The beeping of the heart monitor is the only real sign to him that you’re even alive. Your chest is rising and falling, but it’s barely visible underneath the gown and blankets and wires.

You have one regular IV placed on the top of your left hand. Some other line is in your upper arm, and another in your wrist. He has no idea what they’re all for, he just knows he hates seeing you connected to so much.

Aaron wipes at his eyes angrily. Does he have a right to be this upset when he’s the one who sent you in there?

He turns and sets the pillow and blankets in the other chair, knowing he won’t sleep tonight even if he wanted to. Instead, he pulls the chair closer to your bed, where he can place his hand next to yours.

And, if you happen to wake up, you can reach for him if you need to.

+++

Three hours pass and you still haven’t woken up. Aaron knows. He’s been watching you the entire time.

The nurses have come to check on you a few times, assuring Aaron that it’s normal for you to be sleeping like this. But he just nods silently.

He wants you to wake up. Just for a minute. He needs you to just open your eyes and look at him, just once. That’s all he needs.

But it’s wishful thinking as the sky begins to lighten, showing the first signs of dawn.

Aaron links his pinky with yours, afraid to do much else and risk messing up your IV. Holding pinky fingers is enough right now. Or at least, it’ll have to be.

“I’m sorry,” he says out loud, to you, or really to no one at all, because he’s not even sure you can hear him. “I’m just so...sorry, Y/N.”

Stupid tears gather in his eyes again, clogging his throat, stopping his words.

But he keeps going.

“It’s my fault,” he says. “And I know you’ll try to convince me that it’s not, but Y/N, it is and I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I let this happen to you.”

He leans his head into the palm of his free hand, tightening his pinky finger’s grip on yours.

“I love you,” he blurts it out, tears warming his palm as they cascade down his cheeks. “I love you and I need you to wake up because I need you to hear it. I love you. I don’t think there’s ever been a day that I’ve known you that I haven’t loved you.”

He sniffles, loud and body-rattling, glad he’s alone in this room with you because he’d never let anyone else see him like this. No one but you.

“I tried to get it out before, but you were already gone, and I— You need to wake up. I need you to wake up. Please.”

Aaron keeps his eyes closed and head down for a few minutes longer. He doesn’t even see that you’ve opened your eyes.

Until your pinky finger gently squeezes his.

He lifts his head quickly, eyes wide and wild when he sees you’re looking back at him, eyes glassy with tears and exhaustion.

And just like that, just seeing your eyes open and looking right at him, the dam breaks once more. He’s a mess of tears when he leans his head down onto the bed. You lift your hand and thread your fingers through his hair, closing your eyes as more tears slip down your cheeks.

You scratch a soothing pattern on the base of his skull, moving your other hand over your body to hold onto his arm. He senses the movement and lifts his head, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his lips.

He’s not sure how long he stays there, all he knows is his back aches when he straightens up again, and you’ve fallen back asleep.

Next chapter

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beomeli · 3 years ago

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Rainy days - C.BG || p.2

Warning: swearing

Genre: angst, fake dating, unrequited love

Non-idol!Beomgyu x fem!Reader (Non-idol!Taehyun)

Click here for part 1~

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The days grew older, as the rain kept pouring continuously from the dark skies, you almost questioned if the rain was reflecting your own sadness, water droplets falling and hitting the ground hard, covering the entire town in a dark hue and constant wetness.

Taehyun kept his words, he really did treat you well. you enjoyed his touch. Lovingly leaning onto him, feeling his arms firmly wrap around you. His warmth was so genuine, soothing. Taehyun must’ve been as lonely as you, the way he held you closely and seemed to crave more and more cuddling from you suggested it. But he enjoyed your company as well. It was a romantic type of company, but no feelings were involved. Just enough to fill out the loneliness you both had bestowed.

In the end, you became addicted to his mere touch, sweet scent, soft voice. And even though he could seem cold at times, he always knew what to say or do to make you feel at ease, whether it was him softly patting your head, or telling you sweet words to make you forget about the world around you. He had you wrapped around his finger. But you were grateful, happy that Taehyun helped you. Helping you forget about Beomgyu, even just for a second.

When school came around again, people were quick to notice the changed behavior in the two of you. You no longer following behind Beomgyu, but instead settling around Taehyun, feeling his hand softly intertwined with yours. You tried your best ignoring Beomgyu, he didn’t seem to notice, he was to occupied with Ryujin. It hurt, a lot. He didn’t keep his words, neither questioning nor giving effort into walking you home anymore. He was so clear that he still wanted to do the deed, but ended up forgetting about it entirely in the end. You felt defeated, he had replaced you entirely. What was so great about Ryujin anyways?... No, don’t think like that.. it’s not her fault, not even Beomgyu. The one at fault is you, only you. Thankfully, you had Taehyun to lean against. You didn’t need to crumble alone.

People had it going when they saw you and Taehyun act more than friendly. Hueningkai seeing you and Taehyun hug, him telling you “you’re very pretty today” thinking no one was around. Or Yeonjun seeing you two alone behind the cafeteria, Taehyun kissing your cheek softly before stroking your hair. people started talking. Everyone was shocked to say the least, never did they think you two would become a couple, especially in such short notice. Some even questioned you and Taehyun, asking how ‘you two’ happened. But you never told the truth, giving them a “Well Taehyun just asked me out, we went to the movies and then we became a couple.” It was tacky and cliché, but it was enough to the get people satisfied with the answer. Though confusion was still noticeable.

It was weird, but Taehyun made you feel loved and wanted for the first time in a long time. At times when Taehyun and you would sit around in his room, taking a nap or cuddling together while watching a movie. You couldn’t help but feeling your mind run with questions. How would Beomgyu react to this? What would he say? Does he already know? Since Hueningkai and Yeonjun both had good contact with Beomgyu, along with the entire school chattering about the newly occurred relationship, there was a high chance he knew. Will he be angry? You couldn’t say, if so.. why? He didn’t like you. if you were in a relationship, he would support you, right? You tried your best to find comfort even in all your overthinking, wiping the thought of Beomgyu disapproving the relationship. Still, something in your mind told you that he would react strongly. You couldn’t shake the feeling off. No, Beomgyu is kind and sweet. He would never disapprove on you being happy with someone. Right?

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Saturday once again came by, and unsurprisingly, rain kept pouring outside, the continuous streak of bad weather was no longer bothersome, but more a sense of comfort. You liked how the streets were filled with water flowing in streams, dark clouds overshadowing the days giving off a dark hue. It made you feel calm.

You were home as usual, finishing up the last dishes you’d prompted up. Finally putting the last glass on the drying rack, you stretched your back in satisfaction. Happy that the annoying mess was finally finished and tucked away. Being home alone wasn’t anything new to you, your parents did god-knows what, but you didn’t care. Time alone was needed, even though loneliness was a curse you wanted to break. Still, you’d always appreciate a calm and nice evening.

You took a quick glance towards the clock.

6:48PM, your favorite show is about to begin, a funny cartoon you’d been keeping up with lately. Though you hated to admit it, but you’d started watching too much TV these days. occupying your mind was needed, and TV was your gateway to a distraction, aside from Taehyun, of course.

Sighing, you made your was towards the living room. Before you could settle down on the sofa, you heard the doorbell ring loudly, catching you off guard. You calmed yourself down before questioning who could be at the door. Taehyun wasn’t suppose to come over until tomorrow, and he never used the doorbell either. This was weird, but you weren’t scared. You set down the TV remote in annoyance, before calmly making your way towards the door, opening with confidence.

Big familiar brown eyes was met with yours, his dark chocolate hair and black clothes completely drenched by the pouring rain outside. Even his coat couldn’t save him from the wetness. Luckily, your roof was covering him from the rain as he stood at the door.

“Hi Beomgyu?” You were suprised to say the least. He hadn’t talked to you for almost a week, both of you being to occupied with your own relationships. He had visited you multiple times before without a notice, but these circumstances were different. And you knew he also thought so. With that, you couldn’t figure out if you were happy or sad to see him.

“Hey! It’s been a while since we hung out so I figured I’d visit you.” Like he usually did, he cut directly to the point. Giving you a soft smile that you’ve always adored. Even though he was standing in the rain, completely drenched, his hair a total mess and his cheeks giving of a tint of red blushing, he was beautiful. He’s always been beautiful. You couldn’t help but stare, blushing a bit.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts, continuing on the ongoing conversation,

“Oh, okay haha.. I guess it has been a while since last we hung out.” You softly chuckled towards yourself, shyly scratching the back of your neck. You looked him up and down, seeing him stand there a bit nervous as what to say next.

Suddenly, you remembered something.

“Wait.. weren’t you suppose to be on that date with Ryujin..?” You had to admit it, you didn’t really want to bring up Ryujin during a moment like this. He wanted to see you, that was clear. And still you brought up the girl that made you feel instant jealousy.

You patiently waited for his answer,

“Kind of, well I cancelled.. actually.” Cancelled? Why? Just a week ago he was so excited about this. How could it change so quickly? You furrowed your brow at that, not comprehending his sentence at fullest.

“What? Why? You were so excited for this date..” you had suspicion in your voice, crossing your arms and tilting your head a bit as you looked at him.

He looked a bit nervous as he muttered out his reasoning, his voice shaking ever so slightly.

“The..,” he seemed to trail of, trying to find his words as he continued his sentence, before setting on an answer,

“the weather! it was too much rain so.. I cancelled.” You knew he was lying, he was a horrible liar. But he didn’t need to know that you knew. You couldn’t help but ask yourself. ‘Did he cancel the date.. just to meet me?’ No, there surely must be a different reasoning for this. Although the possibility didn’t leave your mind.

You pretended to fall for his lie, cutting him some slack.

“Oh, yeah I guess rain isn’t that date friendly..” you shrugged, softening your expression.

“Yeah.. well I didn’t really know what to do so, I figured I’d come see you.” He chuckled at that, clasping his hands together and nervously fiddling with his fingers. You found it adorable.

“Oh heh, that’s sweet..” you said in a soft tone, you once again questioned if he really cancelled the date, just for you. You couldn’t help but feel a small smile creep up on your lips, although you quickly dismissed it.

It was quiet for a bit, Beomgyu not really know what to say next. You took initiative,

“Hey, come in so that I can dry off your wet hair. Or else you’ll get sick.” You moved to the side for him, letting him step in. He nodded towards you,

“Oh, yeah sure..” he muttered as he made his way inside. You closed the door behind him before looking at him taking off his gear. As he was done, hanging everything on the clothing hook. You nodded and started making your way towards the bathroom.

“Just take a seat, I’ll go get a towel for you.” You said as you walked up the stairs. Beomgyu nodded quietly, listening to your request.

As you took out the dry towels from the laundry cabinet, the feeling of weirdness overcame you. As mentioned, Beomgyu had visited you numerous times before, especially without notice. But this felt weird, he usually wasn’t acting this nervous. And he surely never lied unless he felt necessary. What is up with him?

You sighed towards yourself, once again you couldn’t read what Beomgyu was thinking nor what his motive is. But you were used to it at this point. Beomgyu is a mystery to you.

Making your way down the stairs, you saw Beomgyu sitting quietly on the sofa. When he heard your small steps on the floor, he turned back to look at you, giving you a small smile.

You settled next to him, facing him directly before bringing up the towel to his hair.

“Here, let me help you.” Before he could say anything else, you softly rubbed his head with the dry towel.

“Oh, there’s no need for that! I can-“

“Don’t worry about it, you’re just going to do a messy job anyways..” you turned him down, you figured this was the least you could do, for making him come all the way here in the rain.

You tried being gentle as you quietly dried off his hair. His locks were still soft even though the water had completely drenched him. Even his scent crept through as you were so close to him. You tried composing yourself, not showing any admiration towards him. You didn’t want him to notice.

“There we go, all prepped up and done.” You said in a proud tone, cupping his cheeks softly in your hands with the towel. Beomgyu looked down at you with a smile. He seemed happy with the help.

Your eyes met his, before now, you hadn’t noticed how close his face was. You could feel his breath on yours, minty and sweet. Also with his eyes staring at you, occasionally watching your lips.

“You’re smiling.” He caught you off guard. You hadn’t even noticed that you’ve been smiling to yourself. An act that neither Beomgyu nor you were familiar with.

Still, you couldn’t help but get defensive,

“Y- yeah.. so what?” You had a defensive tone, letting go of his hair and tossing the wet towel on the coffee table, you didn’t bother folding it properly. You scooted a bit away from him.

He seemed to chuckle for himself,

“You don’t usually smile over nothing. Is something you’re thinking about funny?” He gave you a small smirk, he was obviously teasing you. You rolled your eyes at that, internally that is. Why did it even matter? You let out a small scoff at his remark.

“No.., what? I’m just smiling like a normal person, stop being weird.” You couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed, your cheeks giving off a tiny red blush.

He let out a small chuckle before looking over at the TV, sighing quietly. It was quiet for a bit, only the sounds of the clock ticking could be heard, along with the loud TV. He shifted his position a bit, holding his hands between his lap. You watched him intently. The clock kept ticking, and as seconds passed, you noticed how his smile faded.

“Maybe...

it is Taehyun you’re thinking about..” he almost spat out Taehyun’s name, as he now looked back at you, His expression almost turned sour.

Your eyes widened at his sentence, did he know? Quickly you felt your heartbeat quicken, as anxiety build up through your chest and spreading throughout your entire body. You felt like sinking, as Beomgyu’s gaze deeply drilled onto you.

“Taehyun..?” You muttered quietly, your voice was evidently surprised.

“How did you know about me and-“

“Hueningkai told me, then Soobin texted me.. along with Yeonjun” he started, his tone darkening with each name he mentioned.

“And then Ryujin..” he lastly added. the way he said her name.. he didn’t have that sweet tone he once used. It was out of spite and anger. What had happened?

“Oh..” was all you could say. you didn’t know what to say to him, what else could you really say. You felt embarrassed, figuring he was mad that you didn’t tell him first. But how could you? He was the reasoning for this..

You averted your eyes from his gaze. Looking everyone but at him, finally landing on the palm of your hands. Tension build up the entire room, it felt suffocating. The TV was still on, loudly playing your favorite program, but you couldn’t hear it. You could only hear your own heartbeat, feeling like your heart would burst through your ribcage at any second. You didn’t want this, you hated the growing tension in the room. If you knew that Beomgyu would react like this, you’d surely suggest holding the relationship between you and Taehyun a secret. Only engaging with him behind closed doors.

You didn’t know what to say, nor did you know what Beomgyu was thinking. But there was one thing you knew for sure, he did not seem to like the idea of you and Taehyun together.

“...”

It was once again, silence fell between the two of you. Slowly, Beomgyu looked away from you, looking down at what you presumed to be the floor. Maybe he was finding his thoughts, you couldn’t say. But he was thinking for sure. You took small glances up at him, fiddling with your fingers nervously as you did so.

Suddenly, he spoke up, looking at you once again. This time, you didn’t avert your gaze.

“So, Are you two really in a relationship?” He had a tint of disappointment in his voice.

You nodded towards him,

“More or less..” your voice shook a bit.

“How long?”

“Jesus Beomgyu why-“

“How long?!” He quickly cut you off, demanding an answer. You were shocked, never had you seen Beomgyu this.. upset. It didn’t scare you, but you were surprised.

“.. since last Friday..” you quietly muttered in defeat.

“Bastard..” he spit out quietly as he looked away for a bit. you knew he directed that insult towards Taehyun.

“Why?” He continued, you could hear the desperation in his voice as he looked back at you. Softly taking a hold of your hand.

“Why him?” He sounded sad, confused and desperate. Guilt was building up, you hated seeing Beomgyu like this.

“I was lonely.. He said he’d treat me right, and love me.” You nervously bit your lips. Heart aching, this was not the first time you’ve felt this bad. You felt pathetic saying those words, but they were nothing but mere truth. You were truly sad, lonely, craving after a guy that never loved you. You had to occupy your mind, fill the empty void. You knew this was wrong, how could it not be? But the feeling of being held by someone was addictive. Your mind tried giving out an excuse. Surely, you weren’t the only one resorting to these things. Many people did the same thing, using a lover to fill their needs, whether it’ll be money, lust or just filling the silence in their lonely homes. Even so, you knew these facts couldn’t be used as an excuse for breaking your morals.

Your chest clench at the sight of him, not by a feeling of love, but instead nervousness, anxiety. He looked back at you with deep brown eyes, almost glancing a face of.. disappointment. He looked defeated, even angry. But he didn’t avert the negativity against you. No, he seemed to be disappointed at himself.

“I didn’t know.. I never noticed..” his voice sounded sad, as if he was in defeat. His eyes looking down in a sense of shame. And in a few seconds, you noticed small prickles forming at the corner of his eye. Beomgyu barely cried in front of you. You felt yourself stiffen at his reaction. A wave of guilt building up.

Trying to comfort him, your hands slowly cupped his cheek. Stroking it ever so softly with your thumb. He didn’t look up, just placed his hand on top of yours. Leaning into your soft touch.

You spoke up,

“I didn’t want to worry you.. we’ve only been friends for so long and..” you stopped yourself, not sure what to say next. You as well looked down, trying to find the right words. But nothing came.

“Y/N..” without warning, he pushed you down the sofa, towering over you. You were caught off guard as you laid there on your back. Heart skipping a beat at his action. He was looking at you, His eyes drilling holes into you. You couldn’t move, you didn’t know what to do. Never did you think Beomgyu would do this. On his hands and knees, hovering over you, as you laid there defenseless. Beomgyu kept his stare, his face looked troubled. he was contemplating something, but you couldn’t put a finger on what.

The tension filled the air once more, and you felt like you were in that position for hours. You tried speaking up but the words didn’t come out. Taking a small breath, you tried once more.

“B-Beomgyu what are you doing..?” Your voice was shaking, your lips trembled. Your eyes wide and big. You couldn’t hide your nervousness. Beomgyu looked away after what felt like forever, looking down once more. Closing his eyes. He once again, looked defeated.

“... I’m so stupid..” he whispered towards himself. he seemed to break, slowly leaning forward and embracing you in a tight hug. Wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his face in the crook of your neck. You froze a bit as he said those words. Why would he say that? Stupid for what? For a second, he held his breath against your shoulder, before letting out a quiet sigh. He leaned closer, craving more of your warmth. Taking in your sweet scent and bliss touch.

As you felt his arms wrap tighter around you, you lifted a hand towards his damp hair, stroking it softly, letting him further lean into you. You closed your eyes, sinking into his touch further. He was cold, his skin freezing to the touch. But you didn’t mind.

For the first time in a long time, sunlight could be seen through the cracks of your curtain, shining softly through your window, lightening up the room ever so slightly.

“So fucking stupid..” he whispered once again. You never quite understood what he meant, but you figured there was no need to ask. Instead you laid there, together. Holding each other as the time ticked on. More light seeping through the curtains and shining towards the two of you. You softly stroked his hair, feeling his chest rise and fall slowly.

In the end, you never really got to understand what he meant.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

A/N:

Hi again! Em here..!

Hope you enjoyed this part, i don’t think there’ll be any more parts unless I come up with something. I wanted to end the note on a sad ending, ops.

I might come around to write a more happy ending but I’m not sure. Maybe if enough people want a third part then I may come around to write it.

Anyways, thank you for reading and stay tuned for other fics in the future! If you have any requests or suggestions, you can always send an ask! Don’t be shy ;)

I’ll be sharing a prompt list as soon as possible!

Tysm for reading, bye!

#beomgyu x reader #beomgyu angst #beomgyu imagines #tomorrow x together #txt #txt beomgyu #txt fanfic #taehyun x reader #taehyun angst #txt taehyun #txt soobin #txt hueningkai #txt yeonjun #txt one shot #txt prompts #txt one shots

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