#can you believe i have to wait seven fuckin months to get back into my favorite store

[blowmymongrelmind]

[soir-rouges-esprit]

xxxi.s: Coke, Blood & Handguns, “but I mean, it was also a time where I had my highest moments as well … surfing the pole bar out back all the way down on my old skateboard.” ... Oh Yeah! I remember that … then you tried it again and the fuckin thing snapped in half because it had dry rotted through the center haha. “Yep! … came fucking crashing down right on my sack … swore after that day i had to have made myself infertile … my damn balls hurt so bad I passed out.” HAHAHAAAA “WHAT!? PFFF THAT CAN HAPPEN HAHAHAHA” “FUCK YEAH IT CAN DUDE!!! IT HURT LIKE A BITCH” HAHAhaaa yeah it can … and boy watching Mrs.Roche and that assistant science teacher wheel you into school while you were crying getting you to the nurse's office … priceless memory. The boule lands on black thirty-one. *sigh* I bury my hands in my palms and rest my hands and head against the table side. ugggghhhh fuck me … this is the worst. “*sigh*” “Shit never changes come on!” We bet … again … this time I said fuck it … and bet four hundred on red seven … favorite color, lucky number. I raise back up. “Fuck it I'll go the same but black twenty-six … see if we can capture this stupid ball” Remember what they called you for a month after that? “Oh please tell me they had a name HA!?” “Yeahhhh … they kept calling me … Tony Hawk pro ball buster” Ha Ha Ha Haaaa there it is. “PFFF!! Brutal … kids are little shit-eating monsters.” Me and J replied in Unison. “Agreed!.” Yeah … sad to see it go for me as well honestly … as much as I hated it. “What about you M?” “Oh … I had probably my worst years back then … kind of all a … blur … good riddance in my opinion.” The ball rolled round and round and round … until. Red Seven! … … … WHAHAHA!!!! WOAH FUCK YEAH!!!! “WHAT!?!?!??! HOLY SHIT HOW MUCH IS THAT” “WAIT WAS THAT STRAIGHT UP SEVEN!?!?! DID YOU LAND A STRAIGHT-UP SEVEN??” We all jumped around and the rest of the roulette table celebrating with me. … I had just won my betting offer of four hundred … plus an additional thirty-five of whatever I just bet … meaning I had just fucking Scored!! … a big fourteen-thousand dollar payout … nearly tripling the money I started my day with … it was safe to say … I felt that gambling kick that dear ol dad once spoke of. I jumped up and hugged M and J … we let the croupier collect all the losing bets and clear the board, then they waved over one of the casino attendants after handing me a little slip with their signature. We took the slip with the attendant over to the main counter … where they cashed in my slip and handed me fourteen-thousand in chips. It felt a little crazy to have won that much that quick and pretty simple as well … stunned. “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU FUCKING WON WHAT THE HELL!?!?!” “Yeah same! Congrats! That’s crazy.” Fucking agreed … Alright J … I’m done, I’m up. “AHHHH WHAT!?!?!” “JESTER! … He is UP … he is Done.” “Agh whatever alright alright I get yah, deal is a deal … sheesh I just wanted a betting partner … fine yeah … I’m spent here then as well … my poor fucking wallet would strangle me if it had enough money left to do so.” “Agreed. I’m done as well. So what now?” Well … we are here so lets go see one of those shows they were showing here. Planet Hollywood, wasn’t just a themed casino … it also had a large theater, they hosted shows and entertainment at … [To Be Continued]

[erodasfishtacos]

hii! i love your ceo harry universe so much! i was wondering how one of the incidents that was mentioned before when a worker talks back to him ?

here’s to hold you over while im working on the next one shot :)

warning: harry is an asshole to everyone but his baby and wife, language, breastfeeding.

---

Well let's just start off by saying that there have been tons of instances where there was a disgruntled employee. Heres one.

It was six in the morning and Harry was supposed to be out of the house thirty minutes ago.

As soon as he'd stepped out from the closet that held his suits and professional attire, he had heard a squeak from the baby monitor mounted to the wall.

He steps over to see his little seven month old daughter wriggling around unhappily in her crib, kicking out her chunky legs with a pinched expression.

The smacking of her pouty lips telling everyone that she was hungry.

Harry looks over to his sleeping wife, who was on her stomach with her face buried into the side of her pillow. Her feet were peeking out from under the comforter and she was peaceful.

There's no way he would wake her, his job can always wait, he's is own boss for fuck's sake. That has him trailing into the dim nursery, sun barely peeking through the closed curtains.

"Oh, bub," Harry hums, hearing short, irritated whimpers from his demanding daughter. Just like her daddy. Wanted what she wanted, when she wanted it.

When Ivy hears her father's voice, she's gripping the railing to pull herself to sit up. Her displeased babbling begins between huffs of breathe, telling him all her complaints.

"I know, m'sorry. Daddy's s'mean," Harry coos when he picked her up and pops her onto his hip. She was a little space heater in her flower covered white onesie. ***

Ivy pats happily at her father's chest as he takes her down into the kitchen, keeping herself entertained by tugging at the collar of his dress shirt and trying to pull the decorative hankerchief out of his breast-pocket.

Harry goes about heating up a pouch of breastmilk in the bottle heater while humming to his daughter with soft kisses on her silky little curls.

He hisses when he pulls it back, goes to test it, and it drips onto his grey suit jacket. A splotch of breastmilk, the joys. He didn't have time to change, didn't really have time for any of this logistically.

Then Harry's trying to convince his picky daughter to take the bottle between her lips but she's refusing, letting out a wail and pushing it back towards him.

"Little love, know y'hungry," Harry murmurs, bouncing her on his hips in a soothing moment, "Need y'to eat f'me."

Then she's full on crying because Harry knows exactly what she wants, "You can't have it from your mumma right now. She's sleepin', we need to be nice, yeah?"

Harry swears his wife must have an extra sense for her daughter because she's stepping into the kitchen in just a tank top and pair of panties.

Ivy's cries pick up and she twists for her mum when she sees her. Y/N obliges and slips her out of Harry's arms before cradling her into the crook of her elbow.

She's tugging off the shoulder of her top and guiding Ivy until she's latched and goes completely quiet, eyes already lidded and heavy as she feeds.

Harry grunts, leaning in to give his wife a goodbye kiss, "Can't blame her, y'tits are amazing."

Y/N rolls her eyes at him but they soften when Harry reaches down to kiss his daughter's head.

"Don't be too late," Y/N asks, sleep still thick in her throat.

"Never, be home as soon as I can, my love," Harry assures her before stepping out.

He had a magnetic pull, it took strength and effort to be away from his two ladies for any amount of time. It made working that much harder, a struggle he'd never dealt with before.

--

It has him already in a sour mood when he steps into the conference room and one of his employees makes a comment under his breath to the person next to him.

"So we can't even be a minute late but he can be twenty, that makes sense."

Harry is usually never in the mood for bullshit. 

But he was especially not in the mood for it today. He wanted to be home with his sleepy wife and baby. Let her sleep and take care of Ivy.

"It actually does make sense, Todd. It makes sense because I'm the fuckin' boss," Harry replies with a sharp edge, slamming his briefcase onto the oak table loudly.

"Shouldn't you be setting an example for everyone?" He shoots back, not sure where the courage had been building from but everyone else is giving him bewildered looks.

Harry barks out a rude laugh, "I need to set an example of being punctual to grown arsed adults? Do I need to show you how to fuckin' tie your shoes too?"

Todd grimaces, “No. I’m just saying...it’s good to do that.”

“I am setting a good example, I’m a fuckin’ self-made billionarie. Is that not a great example to set?” Harry asks with a raised eyebrow.

 It was crazy how intimidating he could be with a stain of breastmilk on his suit.

The employee doesn’t know what else to say, awkwardly he looks down at his hands in surrender to the man who was still standing in front of his chair instead of sitting.

“Now,” Harry cuts through the tension, “I believe you had a report for me.”

He was quite surprised his boss didn’t fire him right then and there. He’d fired people for a lot less than what he just did.

Todd did indeed have a report for him. It had taken him three months to finish the project. He’d put his blood, sweat, and tears into this three-hundred page report with analysis, graphs, and charts.

He slides the fat stack of paper towards Harry, ‘A Summary of June Sales in All Corporate Offices’.

Harry takes on look at it and smirks at the man, “You know what? I’ve changed my mind. I think I’d like a summary for July instead of June. Get back to work on it.”

Todd and the rest of the workers look with flabergasted expression, they all knew how long this took to complete. 

So when Harry picks up the packet, carelessly tosses it in the trash bin, and walks out - well everyone is a bit in shock for a moment.

---

[drabbles-mc]

Language

Neron ‘Creeper’ Vargas x F!Reader

@redpoodlern requested more Dad!Creeper and honestly I was more than happy to deliver on that haha. And thank you to @garbinge for always helping me pull together all of my ideas!

Warnings: language, mentions of alcohol, Creeper being a big ol’ softie with his kiddos

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This definitely takes place in the same universe as Like Father, Like Son because I’m a big fan of the family dynamic that I was sort of starting to build there. If no one has any objections that’s probably going to be my default HC for my future Dad!Creeper fics unless stated otherwise haha. I just love the idea of him with a pack of kids.

Join my group-chat here: (X) ​

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The kids had one week off from school. One week. Seven days. Technically only five if you weren’t counting the weekend. You didn’t want to take the entire week off of work when you would be out on maternity leave in a couple more months, and as much as Creeper wanted you to be taking it easy, he said that if you really wanted save your time off for your leave, he would gladly keep the kids with him for the week.

“You and the guys can’t be doing,” you glanced around to make sure the kids weren’t in the room, “You and the guys can’t be doing serious club shit while they’re there, okay?” you knew that Creeper was always careful, but you also knew that some of the other men in the MC with him weren’t quite as cautious.

“Never, mama,” he leaned in and kissed your cheek, “Don’t worry. We’ll hold it down. It’s been a while since they got some time with their uncles, anyway.”

“Alright,” you nodded, taking a deep breath, “Go round up the gremlins, then,” you laughed, “They should each have their backpack with stuff in it.”

“Givin’ ‘em homework on their week off?” he chuckled.

You shook your head, “No, no. Just stuff to do if they get bored at the clubhouse. Coloring books, matchbox cars, whatever else they can fit in there.”

“Pfft,” he shook his head, “like we’ll ever let them get bored,” he let out a whistle, “Let’s go, homies! Time to roll out.”

Their footsteps thundered through the house as all three if them came booking it down the hall, each with their backpacks either on their shoulders or dangling from their hands. Both you and Creeper laughed at how excited they were to spend some time with their dad and their entire squad of uncles at the clubhouse.

“Which car you taking, baby?” you asked him.

“Just figured I’d take the van. It’s got all their stuff in it already.”

You smiled, nodding as you grabbed the keys off the counter and tossed them to him, “Alright, no doing donuts with it.”

He chuckled, “If they ask I won’t be able to tell them no,” he was about to say something else when his phone started going off in the pocket of his kutte. He reached and took it out, brows furrowing slightly as he answered, “Yea? Yea I’m about to head out. We’ll talk about it when I get there,” he shook his head slightly, “Alright yea,” with a huff he hung up the phone.

“All good?” you arched one eyebrow.

He nodded, “Yea. They act like I’m not gonna see them in twenty minutes. What the fuck is that important that it can’t wait?”

You shot him a glare, “Neron! Language, please.”

“Shit, sorry.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

He smiled sheepishly, stepping in close to give you a kiss, “I’m sorry, I love you, and I’ll call you later, mama.”

“Mhm,” you laughed as you playfully shoved him towards the door, “Tell the kids they gotta keep your boys in line.”

“They don’t even need me to tell ‘em.”

Very few things rivaled the excitement that the guys felt when they saw the minivan rolling into the scrapyard. Seconds after Creeper threw the van in park, all of the kids came sprinting out. His son leapt out of the passenger seat as his little sisters came tumbling out the back. It was quite the scene watching them walk up with their father, looking like quite the entourage all together.

“Wifey let you take the real whip today, huh?” Angel said with a laugh as he pulled Creeper into a hug.

He chuckled, “Anything for the wolfpack,” Creeper watched as his kids made their rounds to say hi and hug each of the men that were outside the clubhouse waiting for them to arrive.

Angel looked over at the minivan, “Still can’t believe she let you put those fuckin’ stickers on there, bro,” he laughed.

“Yo,” he smacked Angel in the chest, “No swearin’ in front of the kids,” he paused, “What do you got against the stickers? I think they’re cool.”

“Guess I just never thought that your soccer mom van needed fake bullet holes.”

“That’s what keeps it from being a soccer mom van,” he tapped the side of his head with a knowing look, like he had cracked some sort of code.

“Right,” Angel laughed and shook his head before turning his attention to the kids, “Brandon! Get over here! Let’s see if you’re taller than me yet, dude.”

Creeper turned and saw that the twins were already trying to take Hank down to the ground—a goal that they’d had ever since they were little toddlers. Every time they saw him, they got closer and closer to being successful but they weren’t quite there yet. He had one hanging off of each arm as he tried to walk across the yard without falling over onto them. Creeper laughed as he watched the shenanigans unfold, and they’d only been there for about two minutes.

“Alex! Ava!” he shook his head slightly with a smile, “Give Uncle Hank a break, alright? The man has work to do.”

“They’ll be taking him to the ground soon enough, man,” EZ laughed as he let Hank struggle with the two little girls.

“Make sure you’re filming it,” Creeper responded with a laugh as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“How’s Y/N?” EZ asked.

“Pregnant,” he looked over at EZ and laughed, “Nah she’s good. Working this week, so we got some extra help around here.”

“She’s still working?”

He nodded, “Oh yea. She’ll work till the baby pops outta her,” he shook his head, “I don’t know how she fu—” he caught himself, “I got no clue how she does it, man.”

“Pregnancy one of those things you get better at the more you do it?”

He laughed, “Why don’t you ask her next time you see her?”

“Hard pass,” he shook his head, laughing.

Creeper was glad that he had an entire team of guys to help him try to tire them all out, because it wasn’t an easy task in the slightest. At one point he was fairly certain that he lost them in the depths of the scrapyard and when he did finally find them, they were running around and playing hide and seek where all the scrapped cars were kept. The only thing that kept him from having a heart attack at the sight of it was knowing that none of the cars had any glass left in them that the kids could cut themselves on. But the three of them had easily turned the scrapyard into their kingdom.

“C’mon, lunch time,” he called out to them and they all hesitated, not quite ready to give up the game. Creeper sighed, “Chucky made lunch for you guys.”

That was all it took. Their eyes lit up and the girls almost pushed their brother to the ground in an attempt to beat him back to the clubhouse. Creeper shook his head as he followed them, egging them all on.

“C’mon, B-Dawg, use those legs!” he called after his son with a laugh.

“Knees to chest, Brandon!” Angel joined in as he watched the three of them race up the steps of the clubhouse.

Soon enough, the three of them were all sat at one of the tables inside the clubhouse. Chucky beamed at them, “The Vargas Trio,” he brought their plates over, “I hear you’re keeping us company for the week.”

“Dad said we get to come every day,” Ava said as she shoveled a spoonful of food into her mouth.

“Eat first, then talk, lil mama,” Creeper chastised her with a small smile as he shook his head.

Creeper sat at the table with them, casually drinking his beer as he watched the three of them tuck into the lunch that Chucky had made for them. He knew that Chucky loved when the kids were around—he became the ultimate chef and babysitter once those kids set foot on the property. There wasn’t a single thing that he wouldn’t do for those kids and Creeper could tell just by the way that Chucky seemed so at peace as he watched them sitting around the table together.

“What d’you guys say?” he asked them as he nodded towards Chucky.

“Thank you, Uncle Chucky,” they all said in unison.

The warmest of smiles spread across Chucky’s face as he nodded, “The pleasure is all mine.”

By late in the afternoon, the kids were finally starting to run out of steam. The girls were sprawled out on the floor of the clubhouse, art supplies strewn everywhere as they worked through entire sketchbooks’ worth of paper with Chucky. Brandon had been lurking at a safe distance as he watched some of the guys work in the scrapyard. The idea of breaking things apart was intriguing for many reasons to an eight-year-old boy, but he always listened if one of the men said to back up or not touch something. Every now and then, though, Creeper would let him take a crack at something with the hammer and the excitement on his son’s face was contagious.

The two of them walked back into the clubhouse to get a couple water bottles for themselves and the rest of the guys outside. Creeper was behind the bar, handing them over to his son while also trying to get a good look at what Alex and Ava were up to with Chucky. He smiled at the way the three of them seemed to exist so peacefully together. He hoped that the twins would always get along as well as they seemed to so far.

There was the quiet snapping sound of a pencil point breaking, followed by Alex tossing it to the side and huffing, “Fuck that.”

The entire clubhouse fell silent. Creeper’s eyes went wide as his jaw dropped slightly and Chucky looked over to him, trying to figure out what he was supposed to say or do. Creeper set one last water bottle down on the surface of the bar before addressing the issue.

“Alex? You good, babygirl?”

“It’s like the bazillionth time my pencil has broken.”

He wanted to be amused but he knew that you’d kill him for not talking about the whole language issue, “Alright. I hear you. But…but you can’t be talkin’ like that. Where’d you even hear that, anyway?”

“You,” all three of his kids replied in unison.

He exhaled sharply through his nose as he pressed his lips together into a thin line, trying to figure out what the right way to go about this was, “Look,” he waved for his son to follow him as he walked over to his daughters, “You can’t be talkin’ like that, okay? Those are grownup words. Whatever you do,” he rested his hand on her shoulder gently, “Don’t say that in front of Mommy,” he looked amongst the three of them, “And if it slips, you tell her that Uncle Angel taught you that, alright?” they all nodded and he let out a tiny sigh of relief, “Good. Okay.”

That was the last thing he said about it as he nudged Brandon’s shoulder and they went back to collect up the water bottles and bring them outside. The girls went back to their drawings and Chucky decided that there was nothing left to do but follow suit.

“Uncle Chucky?” Alex asked without looking up from her paper.

“Yes, my dear?”

“Why don’t you talk like they do?” she continued to fill in the cartoon coloring page, “Daddy says they’re grownup words but I never hear you saying them.”

“Speaking like a grownup doesn’t interest me in the slightest,” he smiled at her before returning to his own paper.

It was a week filled with antics. The clubhouse was covered in coloring pages of every cartoon and Disney character you could possibly think of. All of the guys had gotten their nails painted by the twins at least once. Brandon got his own Romero Brothers work-shirt and now he never wanted to take it off. Every single member of the MC was tired in a way they never remembered being tired before. Nap time was something that everyone partook in, even the adults, because they all needed the rest.

You took a half day on Friday so you could spend some time with all of them at the clubhouse. You liked seeing the kids running around having a good time with the guys, and truthfully you missed the nights you’d stay late with Creeper there. Late-night partying hadn’t been something the two of you had done in a long time, but none of that compared to the sense of joy you felt as you heard your daughters very intensely explaining the entire plot of both Frozen movies to EZ, who sat and nodded along, a very serious look on his face.

You smiled, making your rounds to say hello to the guys before you made your way over to Creeper who was sitting at the bar. He smiled, standing up to place a kiss to your lips and then to your belly before offering you his seat. You took it without hesitation, always happy to be off your feet for a few minutes.

“How’s the week been?” you asked as you glanced around the clubhouse.

He nodded, “Good. The guys will be sleeping for a week straight once the kids go back to school,” he laughed.

You smiled, nodding, “I bet.”

“It’s been nice having them here. Keeps things from getting to serious.”

“Yea,” you chuckled, “I’d imagine that it’s a bit harder to have a serious argument when all of your tables are covered in drawings of Olaf and Moana, and everyone’s nails are painted hot pink.”

“I kinda like it,” he held his hand out for you to inspect, “But I think purple is more my color.”

You laugh, nodding, “Oh, for sure, baby.”

The two of you were chatting when all of a sudden you heard a series of thuds, followed by Ava softly, but very clearly, saying, “Fuck,” as she rubbed her skinned knee.

You looked over at your husband, staring daggers, “Neron, I swear to god if—”

“It wasn’t me, mama, I swear,” he held his hands up in surrender.

With a sigh you rose up from the stool and made your way over to your daughter. You looked at her knee—it was scraped but it wasn’t bleeding. She also wasn’t crying which was a good sign. You asked if she was alright and when she said yes, you asked your follow-up question, “Where’d you hear that word, sweetie? Because those aren’t words that you should be using.”

Creeper held his breath as he waited for her to respond. Ava looked at you, and with no hesitation she responded, “Uncle Angel.”

You whipped your head to look at the biker in question. His eyes were as wide as you’d ever seen them. He tried to sputter out a denial, some kind of defense, but he couldn’t string the words together. He couldn’t believe that he’d just been thrown under the bus like that, especially by the girl who not even an hour beforehand said that he was her favorite uncle.

Calmly, you rose to your feet and smoothed out your dress. Creeper recognized the look in your eye and he knew that Angel was in for it. He felt bad, but not bad enough to step in and tell you the truth of the matter. It was a little deal in the grand scheme of things, really.

“Baby,” Creeper called after you, “Baby I can handle—”

“It’s fine, Neron,” your tone was dangerously even, “I just wanna talk to Uncle Angel for a minute.”

He knew that that meant you did not want to talk, “Mama, really—”

“Bring the kids outside, please. We gotta start heading home anyway.”

At that point he knew that he wasn’t going to convince you. He scooped Alex in one arm and Ava in the other, “Alright, let’s go, babygirls,” he nudged Brandon gently towards the door, “C’mon, lil homie, let’s pack the car up.”

Once the clubhouse door shut behind them, you turned your full attention to Angel. You picked up a stray coloring book and rolled it the same way you would a newspaper, and smacked him with it, “Angel Reyes!”

“Ah,” he held his arms to block your swings, “Y/N, hear me out!”

“You will not,” you smacked him again, “be teaching my six-year-olds how to cuss,” you hit him with the book once more for good measure, “Got it? Pregnant or not I will beat your ass.”

He held his hands up in surrender, “Okay, okay. Sorry, querida. Didn’t realize that they picked things up so quick.”

You pointed the rolled up coloring book at him accusingly, “Better start realizing it.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded.

You looked at him for a few seconds before giving a nod of approval and dropping the book back onto the table, “Good. Alright then,” you stood on your tip-toes and kissed him on the cheek, “Glad we’re on the same page. I love you.”

“Love you too,” he shook his head slightly as he followed you out of the clubhouse.

He said goodbye to the three kids as they piled into the minivan before pulling Creeper to the side, “Why’d Ava snitch on me like that, bro?”

Creeper chuckled nervously, running his hand over his head, “About that. I…I might’ve told them to blame you if they slipped up in front of their mom.”

“What the fuck, Creep?”

“What? You tellin’ me you wouldn’t do the same shit?”

He paused for a moment before laughing, “Yea, probably. But still,” he gave him a light shove, “Messed up turning my own nieces and nephew against me like that.”

“Technically just turning their mom against you a little bit,” he chuckled.

“I feel like that’s worse.”

“It’s definitely worse,” Creeper clapped him on the shoulder, “Well. Better get ready. Next vacation is gonna be for the whole summer.”

Angel laughed as he hugged Creeper, “Can’t wait.”

[yunhoiseyecandy]

✕ 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞; 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬

✕ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞; 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

✕ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠; 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠 ◆ 𝐟.𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✕ 𝐰/𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 𝟐.𝟗𝐤

✕ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬; 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

[𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭] @little-precious-baby , @multidreams-and-desires , @hanatiny , @latte-fairytaekwoon , @cloudyyeonnie

─────

no matter how many times he’s been on stage, adrenaline rushing through his veins, the high of it all never gets old.

and he can’t bear thinking of the day it all ends.

he remembers the first time he ever picked up a guitar, the way the tips of his fingers brushed against the rough cords as he strummed to the beat. it was something that came so natural to him, and he knew at that moment, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he hummed, this was meant to be.

it’s been almost seven years since that day, and his heart still swells whenever he thinks about how he felt. it was amazing, but it’d been hard to try and convince his parents to allow him to play, let alone buy him his own instrument.

hongjoong chuckles at the old memories, and he finds it hard to believe that he was once a fifteen-year-old boy who begged his parents to let him do what he loved, hot, wet tears running down his cheeks as he pleaded on his knees.

he loved his parents, and to see them disagree with something that meant so much to him crushed him. they used to push for him to study harder in school, beg his teachers for extra credit so he could have even a slim chance at passing the class, but that simply wasn’t who he was meant to be.

he used to be a more than acceptable student, but since he started playing in a small band that had been formed by a few friends of him, he couldn’t focus on anything but the music he adored.

music was his drug, and it would be difficult to put him in rehab. eventually, though, his parents had chosen their son over school work and caved in. that christmas they had gotten him his favorite guitar, and he can still feel the smoothness of the mahogany as he ran his fingers over it.

he’d grown greatly since then, but the rush he still gets is the only thing that hasn’t changed since.

this was who he was meant to be, and he knew that nothing else could compare. he was more than proud of himself for choosing this career path, and he knew it’s the only thing he could do best.

that’s why he always put his all into every performance, head moving to the beat while he sang his heart out till it was hard to breath. and tonight was no different, especially since he had one of the biggest record labels in his country out in the crowd, scouting for the next best performer

—

“we’re up in five, man.” san said loud enough so the rest of the group could hear. hongjoong blocked out everyone, his fingers brushing over the strings as he sang the lyrics to their song under his breath over and over again.

they couldn’t afford to screw up this gig, and it was already going to be a challenge since they had one of their group members, seonghwa, out with a cold. he was the main drummer, so they had to call for backup if they wanted any chance of success tonight.

hongjoong twisted the cap off his water bottle and took a sip before groaning, “fuck. if I keep messing up this note we’re gonna be screwed.” he’d always had trouble with that certain line, but it always got to him right before they were up.

san laughed, “yeah, well whose fault is that for not coming to practice on time?” mingi looked over to him before bursting out laughing, but it soon faded when he saw the look on hongjoong’s face. “sorry, but it’s true!”

sure, they’d all been friends for years now, but that didn’t change how annoying san and mingi could be sometimes. seonghwa really needed to get better, or hongjoong would end up losing his mind.

“doesn’t matter,” he tossed his bottle into the recycling bin, “it’s not like I’m just sitting around when I don’t show up.”

“dude, we’re just messing with you. we all know you’re the try hard amongst us three.” this time it was san who lost it at mingi’s words, both the boys heads thrown back onto the couch as they held their stomachs.

“fuck you.” was all hongjoong could say, knowing damn well they would just look at him and continue to giggle like children if he tries to defend himself. he sighed, looking to his wrist watch and then standing up to collect his belongings.

it was now time to perform, and he was more then excited as he walked out onto the stage, his bandmates following right behind him. hongjoong never really knew why he got stage fright, especially considering how many gigs they’ve had in the past.

he’s done this before, but something told him tonight was going to be different. and that eerie feeling didn’t pass on, not even when he went on stage and played like it was his last. his heart felt like it would burst through his chest at any moment, and he loved the way it made him feel.

he could taste the sweat that ran down his face and over his lips as his tongue ran over them, but he had to ignore the saltiness of it and focus on what lyric came next. 

“you say you don’t want me but you always come crawling back,”

“I’m like your drug call me your dealer I’ll give you that,”

“I’m not your baby, don’t make it seem like we’re reserved,”

“you broke my heart and I learned my worth fuckin’ try hard.”

he looked over to mingi after he sang the last word, his hands gripping the white microphone as he smirked. mingi’s hair was damp, and hongjoong assumed he’d taken a water bottle and poured it over his head after his drums solo was over.

it was a signature move that made the crowd go wild, and the red head did it at almost all of their performances. they’d done it since the beginning, as all of their fans seemed to love it.

they watched as the people in front of them threw their hands up in they air as their bodies jumped up and down, and hongjoong smiled fondly as he watched the lightsticks they had around their necks glow. 

this environment, the setting, it made him fill with joy. and maybe it was the red t-shirt you had on that was different from the rest of the crowd that made his eyes meet yours, or it just might’ve been fate, but he couldn’t seem to pull his focus away from you no matter how hard he tried.

that is, until san wrapped his arm around him and bowed towards the hundreds of people they gave their thanks to. “c’mon, it’s time to go now man.”

—

“okay let me get this straight,” your friend mia started, taking a fast swig of her martini. “hongjoong, kim fucking hongjoong, locked eyes with you?” 

you knew you must’ve sounded crazy when you told her, but you saw what you saw. “yeah, I know. sounds stupid, right?” you ran a hand through your hair as you sighed, and you couldn’t believe your own words. 

you’d been waiting months to go to one of their concerts, let alone be close enough to the stage to be able to breath the same air as them. and to have one of the members actually acknowledge you existed had over the moon. 

you can still feel the way heat crept onto your cheeks when he bit his lip, your eyes wide when he winked your way. it felt like the whole world stopped for a moment, surreal, almost. you hated how easily he got to you, too, like he knew just a smirk or a smile would make you a mess.

and it was right. because as soon as you left the venue, your legs feeling like jello as you ran to the restroom, your lace underwear was a mess that only proved how sensitive you could be.

and that only made you wonder if the small exchange you two shared made hongjoong feel the same way. 

but all your thoughts and curiosities stopped when you the hotel door slid open and revealed the man you were just thinking about, his two friends and many people with cameras trailing behind him.

“is it true you have a new solo song coming up in the next week?!” one reporter shouted towards mingi. “are you three planning to split up soon like the rumors have stated?!” san huffed as he pulled his hoodie over his face, pushing hongjoong and the taller boy forward and near some stools at the bar.

they were all relieved when security came out of the elevator and blocked the rest of the paparazzi outside the building, preventing any more unwanted people from coming in.

“I love performing, but trying to go home and sleep can be so fucking tiring.” hongjoong said, running his hand through his messy dark blue hair. san and mingi nodded, and they waved over a bar tender to order a round of beers.

“tell me about it, they just always act like they’re about to attack us or some shit,” mingi huffed, “I’m so exhausted.” it was normal for mingi to get tired and anxious after a long day, but san and hongjoong knew it would be best if he went up and slept as soon as he could.

it had been hard for the younger one ever since he’d needed a break due to anxiety, so they were careful nowadays not to push him to his limit. they cared for each other, and seeing one of their own feeling down was never a good sight. “you should go up to your room, mingi.”

san hummed, agreeing with hongjoong as he took a sip of his beer. “yeah, we’ll check up on you later.”

mingi new better than to argue with them, so he stood up and fixed his leather jacket, telling him he’d order room service and then go to sleep. “see you guys later then.”

your eyes fixed themselves on mingi as he took the elevator up, hands shaky and clammy as you realized who the two guys in front of you were. “mia, you s-see them too, right?”

her mouth was open wide when you looked over to her, and you could tell she was speechless. you tried to regain your compose and took a sip of your drink, trying everything to try and get your senses back.

she saw what you were doing and played along, realizing you wanted nothing more than to crawl up in a ball and scream into a pillow. “so.. how’s school?”

you two bursted out laughing at her words, but your knee hit the counter and both san and hongjoong looked up at you. san looked away when he saw you were okay, but hongjoong’s gaze didn’t leave yours after he recognized you as the girl from the concert. 

“shit, he’s looking at you, y/n.” you focused your eyes on the glass in front of you, toying with the hem of your shirt as you let out a shaky breath. “shut up or they’ll hear us-”

“oh, you’re the girl from the concert, right?”

—

you didn’t even know how you were in this position, his lips smashed against yours in a hot and steamy kiss as you ground your bodies into each other. but you were. 

so for now, the only thing on your mind was how his hand felt between your thighs, thumb brushing over your clit and making your legs want to give out soon.

your back arched against the door when you felt his lips ghost over your collarbone, and you could feel his lip piercing against your skin as it burned. “ngh, hongjoong,”

your clothes had been discarded long ago, only your white lace that was now soaked through on, and hongjoong still had his black ripped jeans on along with his white t-shirt. he moved you to sit on his bed, “lay back for me princess, I wanna make you feel good.”

you did as he told, sitting up on your elbows so you could watch him. his tongue swept up and down your left thigh as his fingers toyed with you over your panties., “please, just do something already..”

he smirked and gave a sharp squeeze to your other thigh, “patience, baby.” you felt him drag his lips up your body, taking his time to place wet kisses across your stomach and over your hip bones. “I bet you taste amazing.”

you groaned at his words, pulling him up to you by the nape of his neck and you crashed your lips together. he swiped his tongue over yours, groaning into your mouth as he did so. “then taste me.”

you didn’t have to say it again, and he trailed his way down your body while his fingers pulled your underwear down your legs, tossing them on the floor. you watched as he spread your legs wide for him, and you could’ve come right them and there just from the sight of his head in between your thighs.

“so pretty,” his arms wrapped around you, nails digging into the skin of your waist. his eyes didn’t leave yours when he licked a long stripe up your pussy, taking his time to swirl his tongue around your clit before sucking it into his mouth.

you couldn’t help it as you reached down to grip his hair, and he moaned into you when he felt his scalp burn as you tugged. “fuck, you feel so good joongie.”

all his fans called him by that nickname, so he’s not exactly sure why it felt different when you said it. it came out like a whine, and he felt his boxers get tighter and tighter with each passing second. “tell me how much you want me, y/n.”

“I want you so bad,” you whispered into his ear after he crawled his way back up your body. “I want you to fuck me until I’m screaming your name.”

he tugged his underwear down and slid them off, placing lingering kisses on your neck as he teased you with the tip of his cock. “you want me, princess? want me to have my way with you, make you come over and over again,” his breath fanned your ear, “make your cum mess up the sheets while I keep you quiet with my hand around your throat?”

you couldn’t help the borderline pornographic moan that slipped past your lips at his words, or the way your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. he placed an open mouthed kiss on your lips, shaking his head lightly before pulling away from your body. “nah ah, baby. I wanna slap that pretty ass you have while I fuck you,” without warning, he pulled you to the edge of the bed and flipped you over, pushing his hand on the small of your back. “good girl.”

your nails scratched at the fabric beneath you, pushing your ass out and groaning when he spread your legs apart. he grabbed himself and dragged his cock up and down your pussy, and he swore he’d never been harder.

you couldn’t believe this was happening right now. one of your favorite artists is about to fuck you dumb, and all because you both so happened to stay at the same hotel for one night.

“you’re so wet, y/n. fucking soaking for me.” he leaned down to bite your ear before pushing himself in you with one single thrust. he didn’t move, and you assumed he wanted to give you time to adjust. “beg for it, baby.” and only if it was that easy.

the way you screamed for him to fuck you, and all while his hand was secured tightly around your throat. 

the way your brain was starting to get fuzzy, only thoughts of how good he felt inside of you present.

the way he would land a harsh slap to your ass if you tried to muffle your moans. 

the way he would groan or hiss whenever you clenched tightly around his cock.

it was all too fucking much

but you completely lost all your senses when he pushed down on the small of your back while he fucked into you, and you swore you could feel him in places you didn’t even know existed. “r-right there, fuck!”

he was panting, and in that moment he knew this wouldn’t be a one time thing. it felt different, almost too good to give up. he knew you were his new drug, and rehab would be a bitch if he wanted to quit.

his hand squeezed one last time, halting the breath you were ready to take. you felt your nails tear the bed sheets below you as you came, and you could feel his cum fill you up as it spilled out and onto the cloth under you. 

after he pulled out, he kissed up your back and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. “I’ll go get the bath ready.”

and that’s when you knew, he was way more than just some boy in a band.

─────

[guacameowle]

Jumin Han’s Bad End 2 DLC - Notes / Opinion

Y’all know me. I have to take notes for everything I play or read or watch. I can’t help it. Here we have Jumin Han’s Bad End 2 DLC. The infamous bad end. The red shoes bad end. The “kinky” bad end, to some. Not my favorite bad end, but a memorable one. With that said, let’s dive in! Spoilers ahead!

Episode 1

This DLC has multiple endings! Interesting. Depending on how I answer will determine which end I get. This has me thinking there may be a way to get Jumin back onto a healthier relationship track? I will eventually aim to achieve both endings, though.

Jumin’s hand is fucking HUGE. MASSIVE. WHAT ARE THEY FEEDING HIM? Please hold while I scream at Kristan (jalaqueeno) about this. Holy shit.

It’s been one month since Jumin went to work. One whole month! Mr. Jumin Workaholic Han hasn’t gone to work in ONE MONTH! This man has made it his sole mission to keep you locked up & stay with you. Dude, like… why are you so obsessed with me~?

MANSION? They’re not in the penthouse anymore? I mean… there are worse cages to be kept in.

I am absolutely playing the answers that subtly suggest I am not ok with this new forced live-in situation.

HE’S TRACKING HOW MANY STEPS I’VE TAKEN. Wait until this man finds out I hate walking the mile…

Jumin continues to call this a game. Says he has a therapist on standby. Does he know that HE can use the therapist? In fact, I highly recommend it.

He says you can leave at any time. Color me suspicious. I don’t believe him for one second. How far is this “game” going?

MY PRECIOUS BABY DARLING SWEETIE PIE TOO GOOD FOR THIS WORLD WHOLESOME BEAUTY PERFECT CUPCAKE ELIZABETH 3RD HAS ARRIVED!

According to Jaehee, MC has been with Jumin for two months now.

Interesting how Jaehee makes a point to mention the mansion being untouched as this is where Jumin keeps his childhood toys. He brought you where he keeps his toys. Does he really see all of this as a game & you’re a toy? Can he snap out of it if you call for the game to end, or will there be backlash?

Some of these answer choices feel tricky. I’m trying to gently weasel my way out of this “game” without hurting anyone.

“Don’t say that to my master.” Listen, Jumin is my favorite man in this game, but that answer option physically made me cringe. Me? Call a man master? I could never. Not me. Not this bitch.

Wow. Ok. All this stuff with Jumin’s mom is moving fast. I can already see if he actually does lose her, it may make him hold onto MC that much more/harder. Maybe. 

Woah woah woah. I know Jumin is acting a little suspicious & out of sorts, BUT AIN’T NO ONE MARRYING HIM EXCEPT ME. ALL RIGHT? I’ll fight. I know where to get a bomb…

Excuse me? A fitness trainer? Yeah........ about that. I’m going to have to leave. Sorry this situation didn’t work out between us Juju. Best of luck, though!

Episode 2

My room is kind of cute! Wait, why the fuck aren’t Jumin & I sharing a room? If I’m locked up & tracked, you better believe I’m sleeping next to that dick.

Send a message to space? The fuck?

Oh. Duh.

“I heard that obsession comes from anxiety.” DING DING DING DING.

Omg Seven. You can’t just ask me to open my box. I’m seeing another man...

LONG HAIRED JUMIN?????

Jumin really didn’t have one woman in his life who wasn’t cold or weird to him. I know we already knew from his route he had a difficult upbringing. But I hadn’t expected them to dive into that aspect for this DLC but I can see how there’s the connection.

I told him I wanted to be alone to see if he’d respect boundaries.

OH SHIT THAT CHAPTER ENDED SO QUICK. DID I FUCK UP?!

Episode 3

So are we meant to see this adult Jumin, playing this “game” with MC, as him regressing within himself & falling back to enjoying fantasy? Avoiding reality? Something he didn’t allow himself to do as an actual child? He didn’t understand why people indulge in magic, fantasy, make-believe as a kid. Now he’s vastly overshot the mark to the point that this fantasy life with MC has become his “reality.”

DO NOT GIVE THIS BABY BOY WINE, I SWEAR TO GOD.

Omg. Little Jumin is so cute. I will fight everyone to protect him.

This woman done fucked up. Look at this child, you’ve given him anxiety. He doesn’t know if you want him to be mechanical or a normal kid. Jesus. All this Work Work Work No Emotion Work Only No Feelings bullshit is her fault. Jumin’s only doing what he was taught. He was told this is all he’s good for, all he was meant for.

“I feel like I am a tool. Sometimes I want to be treated like a son.” STOP. IF THIS GAME MAKES ME CRY. I’M GONNA FIGHT SOMEONE.

IF Y’ALL DON’T GIVE THIS LITTLE BOY THE LOVE & AFFECTION & CARE HE DESERVES

Jumin is obsessed with grape juice. Grows up to be obsessed with wine. Y’all made him an alcoholic.

“I am not like her. I will not be cold. I will be warm to my family…” JUMIIIIIN. THIS LITTLE BOY IS TRYING SO HARD! IT IS POSSIBLE JUMIN! AIM FOR YOUR GOOD & NORMAL ENDINGS!

SLEEPY JUMIN HAN CG

OH FUCK

OH FUCK ME

OH HELLO HUSBAND GODDAMN YOU LOOKIN’ CUTE AS FUCK

LET ME HOLD YOU JUMIN. YOU DESERVE TO BE LOVED & HELD & CARED FOR!

I think you have to choose the answers that gently pry you away from Jumin? He can’t force this relationship. It can’t be controlled by him. It isn’t a game. He needs to come to that realization, but he’s really not making that connection...

“I have never been involved in a deal outside a form of give-and-take.” Oh, that hurt. He doesn’t trust you to stay with him unless he can offer you something? His money/extravagance/keeping you in this “game” you started with him & him playing into it is what he has to do to keep you with him.

“Please show me that you love me. I want to know what love is.” Insert Explicit MC x Jumin Fanfic Here. I’ll show you, Jumin. I’ll show you all night long.

*Jumin snuggled closer* In my own personal canon, that means we FUCKED. SLOWLY. GENTLY. ROMANTICALLY.

Episode 4

The creepy lullaby music started up. Shit is about to go down.

Omg is this butler going to lock me in the basement?

Lmao did I fuck up with the “what’s a cage doing here?” reply? How was I supposed to know there wasn’t actually a cage there? No Jumin, I don’t want a cage. …. at least not for me, but we can discuss that later.

SHE WOULD LOCK HIM IN THE BASEMENT? That’s it. I’m fighting everyone. Stay behind me Jumin, I’ll protect you.

“Let me talk to her! I’d like a word with her!” LET ME AT HER, JUMIN. I HAVE SOME SHIT TO SAY. SHE’S DYING. I HAVE A SHORT WINDOW. LET ME AT HER.

Not little boy Jumin Shawshank Redemptioning his way out of the basement omggggg

JUMIN YOU WANNA FUCK? NOW? This man is sending me through whirlwind of emotions.

OH SHIT. I’m torn between the “whisper in his ear” option or the “let’s change our roles for just today” because as y’all may know, I enjoy being in charge.

Me: “Let’s change our roles…” Jumin: “Uhhh maybe we should leave.” Darling, you know you’re a submissive. It’s ok. No judgement.

FADE TO BLAAAAACK. THEY FUCKIN’.

I’M HOOTIN’ & HOLLERING. After the fade the black I said I would stay in my own clothes & Jumin says, “They’re dirtier than you would think.” DID THIS MAN JUST CUM EVERYWHERE? LMAAAOOOO

Happy End!

Ayyy we did it, lads! Unlocked the happy ending first. Even though we already gave Jumin a happy ending in that basement, you know what I’m sayin’~

LMFAOOOOO JUMIN STILL CAN’T DRIVE LMFAOOOO

Wait, turned our backs on everything? How the fuck is this the happy end? Happy for who? Jumin?

So… what the fuck was that?

The good ending just reenforces this “only us” narrative? The good ending is that this “game” Jumin & MC are playing doesn’t end? Nothing resolves. He doesn’t mend any relationships. There’s no healing or moving on. He exerts more of his control on MC & takes more drastic measures to ensure they’re together.

WAIT. DID WE JUST FUCKING ABANDON ELIZABETH 3RD TOO? ABSOLUTELY NOT. THIS ENDING SUCKS. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? FUCK THAT. PISS OFF, JUMIN HAN. I WON’T HAVE THAT BULLSHIT. YOU DID NOT JUST TURN INTO A PET ABANDONER RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FUCKING FACE. I HATE IT. NO. I’M OUT.

The CG was hot, though. Jumin in black on black on black? AND GLOVES?! Hell yeah. That’s a whole meal right there. Delicious. 

Episode 1 (Attempt 2)

Well, time to try to get the bad end (????) now I guess. Maybe the bad end is that this game of their’s actually does break. That’s what I’m hoping for at least.

Jumin already making jokes about switching roles. Jumin, my love. I am more than happy - extremely willing & eager actually - to be in charge here.

Pretending to want all of this ‘being a possession’ nonsense is making me uncomfyyyy.

Episode 2 (Attempt 2)

“Do something Jumin wouldn’t like” Lmaooo it calls Zen. HAHAHAHAHA

I think Zen’s voice acting is some of the most expressive, in this whole game.

Ah, so then I guess turning on the computer let’s you talk to Yoosung.

Not Jumin deliberately cutting my call. The audacity.

Jumin, possessiveness can sometimes be cute. But in this case, I’m not having it. Not interested.

All the toys in the world didn’t keep Jumin entertained. BUT THIS PUSSY DOES.

Episode 3 (Attempt 2)

Flew through that one just choosing the options I didn’t choose before. Didn’t seem to glean any new information except the fact that Jumin no longer has a desire to form a family, says it entirely depends on how badly MC wants a family. Continues that narrative of, if MC wants it, he will provide it... to keep her.

Episode 4 (Attempt 2)

So we’re just going to leave gold bars in that safe?

Happy End Again????

It says I got Happy End again, even though I chose entirely different answers & went along with being Jumin’s possession...

OH WAIT, IT IS DIFFERENT!

I can’t believe my first meeting with Jumin’s mother is after he rawed me in the basement & had me put on a fantasy fairy tale princess dress to make our escape. Omfg. Ma’am, your son’s cum is still dripping out of me, please give me a few minutes to freshen up first. Goddamn.

Jumin’s mom is named Carolyn!

I can’t believe I’m in the middle of a family argument while Jumin’s cum glues my thighs together.

She ain’t sick. She’s lying. I’m calling it.

“Simple - make him soft” Jumin: “Like mashed potato?” LIKE MASHED POTATO? FIRST OF ALL, JUMIN SAYING ‘MASHED POTATO’ IS SO FUCKING CUTE I WANNA SCREAM. Secondly I meant, make him soft as in help him let down some barriers & let people in.

“I heard sons are psychologically bound to be attracted to women reminiscent of their mothers.” Ok yes, that may be true but you don’t have to remind me. Bleh. Stop.

“If my consort is to leave me one day, I will be scarred for the rest of my life.” I am sad for him. So sad.

ONE BILLION, TO BREAK UP WITH JUMIN? WOMAN, YOU ARE SOMETHING ELSE.

The “mind if I touch it” option fucking sent me. I’m laughing so hard. It is 1am. I might wake up my neighbor! I chose the “…..” option though. I’m sticking with Jumin through this. Let’s see what happens.

… I’ll loop back & choose the money if I can though to see what chaos occurs.

“This is exactly what people mean when they say, ‘So not cool.’” JUMIN. NOW IS NOT THE TIME LMFAOOOO

Jumin went back to work. All right, that’s progress. He renovated the basement on a happier note. Ok ok, small progress. 

“Now I wish to paint this entire place with our love.” TIME TO CHRISTEN EVERY ROOM WITH SEEEEX

THAT CG!!!!! AAAHHHHHHH!!!! WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW!!!!!!

Looping back to choose more options for this episode...

CALLED JUMIN’S MOM AN OLD HAG & JUMIN LIKED WHEN I DID THAT LMAOOOO. I would like to call her a lot of things.

Final thoughts:

Long story short (too late), this DLC reenforces that this is a Bad Ending path, in which you won’t find a fix for Jumin, won’t find a way to get him back on track to his true good end. And that’s ok! This is a bad end after all! Though both endings are listed as “good” or “happy” endings, they’re still set in this twisted relationship, this weak form of love, Jumin believes is real. He calls it a game, says a therapist is on standby, says MC can leave any time she wants, yet when she chooses options that distances herself, suggests Jumin pay more attention to something other than her, or shows she’d like more freedom, he immediately blocks that path in some way. Even when choosing all the options that don’t give in to the plaything/being controlled role, the conclusion is Jumin reenforcing his control harder - you both escape together to be alone, neglecting everyone & everything in your life, & Jumin insists all he has to do is take care of you in various ways - to give you everything - to keep you with him. Even following the confrontation with Jumin’s mother & turning down the option to leave Jumin for money, it shows how far Jumin will go to keep MC. He truly believes he has to provide everything (money, security, possessions, etc.) in exchange for her love, her company, her willingness to be with him. This man has slowly been broken over & over again over the course of his life & he’s finally given in to these poor teachings & selfish encouragements, & has convinced himself what he’s found is full love where he provides anything & everything to keep MC’s interest in him. A clear give & take relationship. A contract. A game. And he’s not about to let that go.

Personally, while this path isn’t my favorite for Jumin, I was still absolutely impressed with the two different ways they had this particular Bad End play out. An emotional read from start to finish & back again.

[peakywitch]

Behind the Garrison, by the Canal - Finn Shelby

Word count: 1630

Warning: mention about sex and semi-nudity (?)

A/N: i wrote it in spanish and translated it, apologies if you see any mistake! 

gif: @el-cheung​

A soft knock on the door interrupted (Y/N) from his reading. She looked up curiously from her book, not knowing who it might be.

Her mother? She was upstairs sleeping with the baby.

Her father? He was working.

Her older brother? He was meeting his fiancé’s parents.

Finn? No, he was at a family meeting, it couldn't be him. Plus, they never met each other during the day.

Y/N got up from the uncomfortable purple sofa, going to the door. She tried to peek through the small window to find out who it was. Suit, a peaked hat, a cigar. A Blinder.

Sh took a deep breath, had her brother gotten into trouble? Having exhaled, she opened the door, showing Finn.

"Finn?" she asked curious and somewhat nervous, they were only supposed to see each other half past eight, behind the Garrison, by the canal.

If her father came earlier from work, she was dead.

"Hey, Y/N." he smiled, as he spoke fast.

"I know we said to meet in a few hours, but since I have the afternoon free, I thought about asking you if...you could...lend me another book?" the nervous smile was still there.

The young girl was teaching the younger Shelby how to read, and since he learned, he read every book there was and to be.

Pride and Prejudice? Finished in 72 hours.

Little women? One week.

Hell, he'd even read the bible and could recite some verses from memory.

On one occasion, Finn told Y/N that he had corrected Isaiah, about the bible:

"I will fear no evil!" Isaiah said humorously, as he answered Arthur about whether he was afraid on one of those many illegal occasions. “Jesus said it, you know, Arthur? And I…” Finn cut him off, correcting him.

"Isaiah, that’s Psalm 23:4." Finn said casually, as he finished his cigarette.

Arthur, John, and Isaiah burst into laughter, of course after trying to figure out how Finnny Boy knew so much about God.

"Sure, Finn. Give me a moment." Y/N closed the door, took the Illustrated edition of Alice in Wonderland that he was reading, took out the bookmark, and returned to the door. She opened it and Finn was still wearing that nervous smile.

"Here it is, have fun with Alice, the Queen and the Mad Hatter, Finn." Y/N's smile made Finn's hand shake.

A few weeks ago, the boy had killed a man. His hand did not tremble, his head did not hesitate. But, oh shit, his heart exploded in anger that night, at home. Finn would never admit it, but it scared him to grow up and be as savagely violent as Arthur, or as distant as Tommy. Fear and anxiety were eating him alive, until he realized that his hand was shaking when she smiled at him.

“Thank you, beautiful." He smiled, as he exchanged the borrowed copy of Romeo and Juliet for that copy of Alice. After a wink and a "see you later" he walked away.

With a stomach full of butterflies, Y/N closed the door.

"Hello friend," she whispered to the book. "Have they treated you well?"

Y/N sat down on the couch again, going over the sentences she had marked with her black pen for the umpteenth time. As she was fanning through the pages, a piece of paper fell on her legs. Curious, she took it in her hands and saw Finn's handwriting. She knew it was his, she had taught him to write in italics. Also, she would recognize that misaligned handwriting and that soft stroke anywhere.

“I thought I knew love until your beauty seduced my eyes. Page 118 –Finn”

She smiled.

After greeting her father who had just arrived from work, Y/N commented that she would go to sleep and skip supper. The clock in her room read half past seven in the afternoon, which gave the signal to Y/N to escape through her window.

She wrapped herself up, looked at herself in the small mirror on her wall, and went out the window. Although the house had two stories, Y/N's room was downstairs, making it easier for her to get out the window.

Legs out, then the torso, the arms, and finally the head. Once outside, she adjusted her hair and began her short walk.

Y/N lived just five minutes from the Garrison and should meet Finn in an hour. But she wanted to stop by the Garrison to say hi to Harry. Also, she was to bring him a shirt that her mother had fixed for him.

As she thought of Finn, the five minutes turned into two seconds, and Y/N found herself in front of the pub. It was Friday, so it was full of men with inhuman amounts of alcohol in their blood. She took a deep breath and opened both doors, the smoke from so much cigarette making her dizzy.

She walked over to the bar and saw Harry serving a scotch. Her nose narrowed, remembering that awful taste she'd tasted with Finn.

"It's horrible," Finn had said, "I don't know why my brothers drink this shit."

"Hello Y/N" Harry greeted, anyone could hear her mother's Irish accent on him.

"Hi Harry, I bring you your shirt. Mom thanks you for making her focus on something other than the baby."

They both laughed, as Y/N handed him the bag. After a casual chat, some questions about her father, her new brother and her mother, they said goodbye. Y/N passed by the private booth, but didn't hear a soul. Maybe Finn was already by the river.

It was a matter of seconds before she reached the river, in their usual spot. She sat on a rock and waited.

Two, five, ten, fifteen, thirty minutes.

It was ten past eight, maybe quarter past eight.

Finn wasn't coming, and Y/N was starting to get scared. It was late, she shouldn't be alone. It was eight thirty, she had waited fifteen more minutes.

"God, don't let anything bad happen, please” Y/N said between prayers.

When she got up, she started walking in the direction of his house. To Finn's house. She was sure he was reading. She headed to Finn's house mainly because she was only a few feet away from it and also because she wanted to know if he was okay.

When she arrived and saw the light on, she was relieved. She knocked on the door, she would ask him to accompany her home.

"I’m going!" Finn yelled, there was a laugh and a slim, semi-naked woman who was wearing a man's shirt opened the door, still laughing.

"Lydia I told you that..." Finn's laughter stopped "Oh bloody hell."

Finn had come up behind Lydia, shirtless and his suspenders dangling at his sides.

The floor shook under Y/N's feet. The rest was blurry, for both of them. Finn remembered the cold hitting his shirtless chest as he yelled Y/N's name all over Watery Lane and Saint Mary's Street, asking for forgiveness and for her to listen to him. Y/N remembered the knot in her belly, hearing nothing except her breaths and feeling how Finn's words he had written burned her heart. Her heart, for the first time, was breaking along with the trust she had in him. Because she thought he was good, she believed that he loved her and that he wouldn't be fooling around with others after all those kisses and secret talks on the river.

When she got to the door of her house, Y/N was trying to open it. But the key was on the other side.

"Can you hear me for a damn moment!?" Finn yelled, coming to her side. He took the sad girl by the arm and turned her around.

"Do not touch me! Don't ever touch me again in your fucking life, Finn Shelby!" she bellowed, tears spilling from her eyes.

"Okay." he quickly separated from her, releasing her “But you have to listen to me. I…She…” his voice trembled.

"Did you sleep with her, Finn?" Y/N whispered.

"No...I..." the boy nervously combed his hair as he looked at the floor, Y/N knew instantly that he was lying.

"You had sex with her?!" Y/N let out in a strangled cry, asking but claiming at the same time. Her angry eyes were focused on Finn's, who were scared "And don't lie to me, please don't lie to me."

"Yes."

Y/N’s throat went dry, while her heart kept on breaking.

"Since when?"

"Five months now."

"Oh..." Y/N let out bitterly, then laugh "You are so afraid of looking like your brothers that you forget a detail: You are them, you always were and always will be."

“Don't tell me that, Y/N. You can't tell me that…” Finn cried.

"Yes, I fuckin’ can. You could shag her, I can tell you the truth. I'm not lying to you, Finn. I never lied to you."

“Do you remember two weeks ago, on the river? You said…” Y/N interrupted him.

“I said how I felt, Finn. Now I feel so much, so much pain and hate that I wish I had never told you."

Finn's face was a complete puzzle.

The door slammed open, appearing Y/N's older brother.

"Bye, Finn."

She entered the house, and headed straight for her room, ignoring her brother's whispers about how she should never have gotten together with Shelby. That they do this, they do that.

“Y/N! I am talking to you!" Peter said, entering his little sister's room.

"Peter, stop it, ok?" exploded Y/N “I know I didn't have to hang out with the Shelby family. But you're also dating a stupid woman and nobody tells you anything! "

Peter backed away, shocked.

“No… Peter, sorry. Wendy is…"

“Save it, Y/N. I opened the door for you, so that Dad wouldn’t kill the Shelby himself. But first thing tomorrow morning, they want you down. Both of them."

And just like that, Peter left the room, leaving Y/N in a mess and crying.

[santigarcia]

Electric Plug 🔌

Human Touch Part Seven

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six

word count: 4.5k

rating: M for smut, dirty talk, slight mentions of violence and cheating (pls don’t read unless ur 18+!)

summary: You go see Nathan after his accident, and an old flame rekindles. 

a/n: thank you all so much for reading this series! let me know what yall think! thank you to @punkpascal​ and @sergeantkane​​ as always!!

You call the hospital, pleading with them to give you information if he’s ok. But all you hear is a loud click. This is the only time that Nathan’s fame bothers you. It makes you sick to think that people want to know if he’s ok for their gossip mags. You feel guilt, and that gnawing raw feeling deep in your gut that only he gave you.

For the next few weeks, you keep tabs on him. Your wedding is in less than a month, and you’ve spent more time stalking the internet for info on your ex than you have with your own wedding. But all the work is being done for you. Jack seems to be more involved in it than you.

All you can think about is Nathan. You suppose that’s a bad thing, right before your wedding. But you want to know he’s alright. He could have died thinking you hate him. And while you did for some time, you don’t anymore. If you’re being totally honest you kind of hated him even when you were together. He drove you insane sometimes, but you miss that.

As soon as you get the word Nathan has been sent home, you call your cousin up.

“Aren’t you getting married in a week?”

Yes, yes you are. But you need to see him. You tell her that you need to get a way for just a day or two, that the stress of the wedding is too much. She agrees to let you come up, and you plan to fly back to the states together.

It’s been so long since you got lost and showed up soaking wet at Nathan’s door. This time, you dress for the occasion. Your best little black dress. Sleek heels. You do your hair, makeup, and wear the perfume that used to drive him wild. You’re not entirely sure why you do this, but deep down you know. You just won’t admit it. You want him to admit he fucked up. You want him to want you back.

So, when you knock on his door, you yourself feel a little thrill. But the nerves hit. You haven’t spoken to him in at least two years, and neither of you got closure from the situation. You’re about to reopen a wound that’s barely healed.

Or maybe not – he’s not answering the door.

You start to bang on it, you know he’s home. The lights are on.

“Nathan! Open up!”

When the door finally opens, you’re greeted with Nathan, his face one of surprise, but it quickly turns to a scowl.

”I know I am the last person you want to see right now but-“

“What? What do you want?” he cuts you off. You think of all the things you want to tell him. To ask him. You want to apologize; you want him to apologize. You want to know if he’s ok. But that’s not what comes out.

“Ok I know things ended badly, but I'm getting married next week and-“ you grab him and kiss him deeply. Your tongue delves into his mouth, and he quickly deepens the kiss himself. “I need you.” You tell him, you’re breathless.

“You’re gonna regret this, baby,” he grabs your ass and pulls you to him, and somehow manages to close the door behind you both.

“Make me regret it,” you moan into him. Damn, you’ve missed this. This is the raw passion you’ve been missing. His strong arms hold you tight and he backs you into a wall. His hands are on your dress, already quick to hike it up over your hips.

With the quirk of a brow, he looks at you when he sees you’re without underwear. Ok, maybe this is what you wanted.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you, baby.” He sucks on your neck as he wraps your legs around his waist. His teeth almost hurt, but it’s a good pain, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. “You shouldn’t even be near here. Near me.”

“Please, I’m begging you,” you whine. You didn’t mean to sound this desperate but now that his hands and mouth are on you it just comes out. You claw at his shirt, wanting him to take it off. You need his skin on yours. He pulls back to tug it off, and in the process, he rips your dress open. This frees your bare chest, and he grabs your tits with a fiery aggression. He squeezes them and bites on your shoulder.

His chest is heaving, and the truth spills out.

“I missed you so fuckin’ much, you know that? No one takes my cock quite as well as you do.”

You hate that he’s right, and it only makes you wetter for him.

“No one gives it like you do,” you tell him, moaning trying to get him to push himself inside. You’re desperate, aching.

“Damn right.” He lightly smacks your clit, and you cry out. “I’m the only one who fucks this pussy right.”

“Please!” you buck your hips trying to urge him on. “I need you!”

He finally gives you what you want and thrusts into you hard. He fills you so well, and you choke out a gasp. He’s so proud of himself, he can’t let this moment slip by.

“Oh, you always take me so well kitten,” he grunts shifting his position and hitting you deeper. “This is my pussy, isn’t it? You love it when I fuck this tight pussy? Say it.”

“Nathan!” you dig your nails into his back, and he buries his face into your neck.

“Say it.”

“I love it when you fuck this tight pussy!” you scream as he rubs his thumb over your clit. He’s giving it hard, but you need it. You need all of him. And he fuckin’ knows it.

“Yeah, I can tell how much you love it,” he growls. “You love having my big cock inside you, don’t you? I bet your little fuck toy fiancé can’t fill you nearly as well as I do, does he?”

“No,” you gasp, “only you. I belong to you.”

“Good girl, fuck!” his head falls on your shoulder, he rubs your clit harder to match his heavy thrusts. “I want you to come for me and show me just how good you can be. Okay kitten?”

You whine and claw at him, “I’m so close, please! Let me come!”

“Do it. Come all over my fucking cock.”

With the sound of his voice and the press of his thumb, you find your release. It’s white hot and intense, and your lower back cramps from the intensity of your squeezing around him. You gasp for air and grunt while he still pushes into you. He’s chasing his high and you want him to hit it.

“FUCK! Fuck, can I come inside you?” his voice is full of need, he’s not above begging to fill you up.

“Do it,” you say back to him. “I want all of you.” And that’s the truth.

“Fuck, fuck. That’s it. Oohhh. Oh shit, you take my cum so well,” he chuckles and kisses your cheek. Your bodies still but your chests heave together.

“He doesn't - not like this.” In fact, he’s never given you such pleasure. It’s only ever about him.

“Poor baby, you’ve been neglected, haven’t you?” He smirks kissing you again. “Your thin dick fiancé can’t take care of you properly, hmm?”

“Nathan you wouldn't believe, he- he just doesn't- You know exactly what to do to get me soaked,” you sigh and flutter around him when he pulls out.

“I know you. More than just sexually.”

You nod, he truly does.

“Fuck we made a mess,” he grins and sets you down on the floor. Your knees tremble and your dress is torn around your waist. Nathan’s slick is sliding down your thighs. “Come on,” he hands you his shirt off the floor, and he pulls your torn-to-shreds dress off your body.

You follow him down the familiar maze of his home into your bedroom. You sit down on the bed and he disappears into the bathroom. He returns with a rag to clean you up, and when he’s finished, he lays down beside you. He curls up close to you and kisses your neck before he gets settled.

It’s quiet for a while. You just hold each other in silence. It’s nice. A still moment with him is what you’ve been missing.

He breaks the silence with a sigh, then comes the question you’ve been waiting for.

”Do… do you love him?”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you feel your chest tighten. Nathan’s calm, but you know he’s dying for an answer.

“I- I don't know anymore. I started dating him after we broke up because well, he wasn't you. And now that's- that's the problem. He's safe.  But he’s boring. And he only cares about himself.”

It’s as if you’re just now realizing what you’ve known all along.

“Don’t marry him.” It’s not a plea, it’s not a demand. It’s a casual statement. But when he buries his face in your neck that tells you how he really feels. “I know we didn’t part on the best of terms, but… fuck, I’ve missed you.”

“Really? I- I mean I know we just angry fucked – But I thought you would never wanna see me again. Especially after what I did to you. We both did stupid things.”

“Baby I missed you the whole time. Didn’t you know? I was angry and scared because I was in love with you and it just seemed better to let you go then to end up hurting you.” He sighs pulling you in closer, his lips press softly into your skin. “But then cuz I was an asshole I hurt you and pushed you out.”

“I know, I think I always knew.”

“And he’s cheating on you anyways.”

“What?”

“Oh shit, that’s right. You never saw the texts. I told you everything.”

You sit up and look down at him laying in the bed. He’s so gorgeous, it’s as if you’ve forgotten. You’re still that girl with a crush on him.

“I ignored the texts cuz I was mad at you over the AI. He’s really cheating on me?”

“I know,” he smiles sadly. “I’m onto new tech now though. Smart Home Devices. But yeah, shit baby, I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you. I stalked him online,” he clears his throat. “You know-“

“Cuz you were jealous,” you giggle and lean down to kiss the grey spot on his head.

“Ok, yeah fuck it I was. I wanted to see who I lost you to. But then it was pretty obvious he was cheating, and I tried to let you know, but you never answered.”

“I’m sorry about that, by the way. For not answering.”

“I’m sorry I did all that behind your back.”

“It’s just- if I had been here,” you start to sniffle. You look down at the scar on his chest, and it makes your heart pound. “What if something had happened, and I never got to tell you…” you wipe your tears on your sleeve. “Are you okay?” You reach out and touch the scar on his chest. His skin chills from your touch, but he’s still, he lets you touch him.

“I’m not okay without you. But yeah, I’m fine. Couple scars.”

“And what did you mean earlier? When you said you were in love with me? Was? Does this mean you aren't in love with me anymore? What am I even doing here? I don't know what to do anymore. Everyone has been making decisions for me. No one cares about what I want.”

“Hey, easy kitten.” That familiar nickname. “No, I… I’m still in love with you.” He sits up to cup your face, forcing you to look at him. “I want you to choose. if you want to stay… I want to be better for you. But I want you to make the choice yourself.”

“Nathan, I- the fact that you want me to choose is making me want to stay.”

“Then stay,” he strokes your cheek with his thumb. “But only if it���s what you think is best for you.”

“You're what's best for me, no one has cared for me like you do. And no one gets under my skin like you do either,” you lean up to kiss his lips. “Listen to me right now Nathan. If I do this, if I call off that wedding, you have to promise me right now some changes will be made around here. For both of us.”

“I promise. I swear. Name it and it’s done.”

“I'm not telling you to stop drinking, but go easy ok? You scare me sometimes when you overdo it.”

“Done. Truth be told, if I have you, I won’t really need to drink. Being with you… it quiets my mind. What else?”

“I wanna be the only one. If you need to, I don't know, fuck one of the AI’s for some science thing that's fine, just tell me about it and don’t lie to me. But if it's for you to blow off steam? Come get me. Ok?”

“You’re the only pussy I want, I promise. And I’m done with them. Could never get them wet and warm like you,” he winks and pulls you into his arms. “You’re all I need.”

“And last thing….I need you to help me think of a way to tell my family and my fiancé this whole thing is off,” you wince at the thought. Either way you’re breaking it off with Jack because he’s cheating but bringing Nathan back after having just slept with him means you cheated too. “Because I technically cheated on him with you,” you say aloud.

“Nah, kitten. You decided it was over with him the moment you came out here. Fuck having cold feet, you were done.”

“You’re right,” you sigh, you couldn’t admit it to yourself, but he sees right through you. He always has.

“I know,” he grins.

“Ugh you ass,” you shove his chest.

“Ow, my scar!” he flops back dramatically on the bed. You play along and kiss all over his face.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“I’m not. What if you had gotten hurt? I’d never forgive myself. I was already a damn mess after you left.”

You can’t curl into him any closer, but it doesn’t stop you from trying. His warmth is so comforting. The smell of his soap on his skin. The expensive beard oil. You’ve missed rubbing that into his beard. Everything about being close to him reminds you that this is right, this is what you want. He is who you want.

“What about the wedding? It’s next week,” you sigh. The thought fills you with dread having to cancel everything.

“What if you went through with it? And then I come in and crash the wedding,” he chuckles. “Always wanted to crash a wedding.”

“Wait, that’s not a bad idea,” you giggle.

“We can do anything you want, baby. Hell, I’ll crash your wedding and be your groom if you want.”

“Did you- did you just say what I thought you said?” you sit up to look at him, you want to read the expression on his face. His eyes are serious, but there’s a slight smile on his lips, he nibbles on his lip.

“If you wanted. I know we’ve never talked about that, but… I’d like to. I wouldn’t mind getting hitched,” he shrugs, but you know he means it.

“I thought you didn’t believe in marriage,” you feel tears welling up in your eyes. This changes everything.

“People assume that,” he chuckles sitting up, his hands rub your thighs. “I’m not opposed. And if it would make you happy, then why the hell not?”

“I want that more than anything!” you lean forward to kiss him, and he leans back pulling you with him. His thumb strokes your back while you kiss his cheeks and lips.

“Then let’s get married. I wanna make you Mrs. Bateman,” he hums kissing you and he squeezes your hip.

“You’re gonna hate Jack,” you laugh realizing they’ll have to meet at some point.

“He’ll hate me when he realizes I’m stealing his fiancé.”

“I can’t believe I was going to marry him. I felt like I had to. I was mad at you, and I thought that would be my way to get back at you by saying yes, even though I felt pressured. I don't know what made me come back here to you, but I'll spend the rest of my life glad I did.”

“You came back because I’m irresistible,” he gives you a playful look. “I’m glad you came. I’m so glad you’re back. I want you to make your own decisions, so… I really hope you don’t feel like you have to marry me.”

“No, I want to. I want to marry you. I want you in my life. You respect me enough to make my own decisions. And you know where my g-spot is.”

He snorts out a laugh, “Ahhh, yes, my primary function as your future husband. Honestly wouldn’t mind if you just used me like a glorified sex toy. That’d probably be hot.”

You smile and kiss him again. You can’t seem to stop, and you don’t want to. He wraps his arms around you and your legs tangle between the sheets. He pushes into you slowly, your bodies mold together and it’s everything you could want.

“I can’t wait to crash your wedding,” he muses. You laugh imaging the chaos.

“You can’t wait to make a scene, can you?”

“Kitten, I am the scene.”

“What am I getting myself into?” you laugh.

You fall asleep in his arms that night and leaving his warmth the next morning is one of the hardest things you do.

“It’s just a few more days kitten,” he reassures you. And you know that but having him and then leaving is worse than you could have imagined.

Now you have to go back and pretend you’re excited to marry Jack. The excitement part is easy, you are excited about getting married, just not to Jack. You almost feel guilty, living this lie. But then you remember Jack has been cheating on you this entire time.

You went back and read the texts Nathan sent you on your flight home. Some of them broke your heart. Some of them were genuinely funny and he was trying to make you laugh. Anger burned in you when you found the texts about Jack. It was plain as day and you felt stupid, you’d missed it. You know all these women and it makes so much sense. There’d be nights when he was gone and had no excuse to be out of the house.

You don’t blame Nathan for fucking one of his AI’s. He was stressed and overwhelmed with love for you he panicked. Sure, it was a dick move, and he wasn’t thinking straight. But he knew it was wrong and apologized for it. Over and over. He’d tell you later that after you left, he couldn’t get off like he could when he was with you. The AI fucking was over, and after one almost killed him, he gave it up.

But Jack is flat out cheating on you and has been lying about it for years. He had the nerve to propose to you while he had women on the side. You feel so stupid.

You’re out of it during the rehearsal dinner. You pay attention to nothing during the actual rehearsal. Nathan is going to be there tomorrow and break it all up. You feel those butterflies thinking about him coming to save you.

He’s nervous. He’s barely talked to you, but you know why. This is a big change for him, but one he’s ready to embrace. He’s not one to back down from a challenge.

You wake up the day of your wedding with a text from Nathan. All it says is “good morning.”

If there was any doubt he wouldn’t show up, this blew them all away. He’ll be there.

You just don’t know when.

It changes everything. When you put on your dress, all your bridesmaids and family comment on how you’re glowing and radiant. You got this dress with Nathan in mind, you can’t wait for him to see you in it.

There’s a tremble in your step as you’re escorted down the aisle. No one knows the secret you’re hiding.

It’s at this moment you start to get anxious. You don’t know when he’ll interrupt. What if he backs out and you have to leave Jack in the middle of the ceremony?

Jack takes your hands; your heartbeat is rapid and sweat is on your palms. This isn’t the man you want, and it’s taking all of your willpower to not turn and look for Nathan.

The minister opens his mouth to speak when you hear a loud “STOP.”

Everyone else turns with shock to see Nathan at the end of the aisle, but you- you’re beaming, and tears fall down your cheeks.

His expression is soft, his eyes look like they’re about to spill over with tears. You’ve never seen him look so handsome. His beard is trimmed, he’s in tight grey slacks and a crisp white dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled up on his forearms, and you want to eat him alive he looks so good.

You waste no time running down the aisle to him. His arms open ready to catch you in a hug when you leap for him. He chuckles when your bodies touch- the air knocked out of him.

“Hey gorgeous,” he kisses your cheek. “You ready?” he asks stroking your cheek softly.

You nod and he takes your hand.

“Don’t look back.”

You take his hand; he squeezes it tight and you walk out front where a sleek black car is waiting for you. It takes you into town to the justice of the peace. The two of you thought this was simpler – and more appropriate than crashing a wedding and taking it over for your own. And as much as Nathan likes to make a scene, a smaller ceremony is more his speed.

“You look beautiful,” he tells you as you walk inside. He can’t take his eyes off you.

“Just don’t rip this one in half,” you snort out a laugh taking his arm.

“Baby, I’ll buy you a new one,” he pretends to pout.

When you reach the office, you gasp to see a handful of your immediate family standing there waiting for you.

“How did you-“ you gape looking around at them all.

“Called your family ahead of time,” Nathan shrugs. “Consider it one of my many wedding gifts to you baby.”

You marry him there in that little office. His warm hands cup your cheeks when he pulls you in for a kiss. He cries. It’s exactly the kind of wedding you pictured with him. No mess. No fuss.

But you take full advantage of the reception. Everyone else is there and is happy to welcome you. You’re glad for it because you finally get some good quality pictures of you and Nathan together.

He indulges you in all the little wedding reception traditions. He feeds you a bite of cake, and maybe kisses you a little too dirty for that crowd, but you can’t be bothered to care.

The best surprise of the night is when he pulls you on the dancefloor. His arms wrapped tight around you as you sway together.

“Where do you want to go on our honeymoon?” he asks you. “Anywhere you want to go. Name it.”

“Anywhere there’s a bed,” you giggle. You lay your head on his shoulder and breathe deeply. This is where you’re meant to be.

Your dance ends when the DJ starts to play a funky disco song. And it’s all Nathan can do not to start dancing right away. You burst out laughing and let him go. He dances all around you while tears of laughter stream down your face. A little crowd has gathered around watching him and he doesn’t even see them, only you.

He takes a bow when that song ends, and you can’t remember the last time you’ve laughed that hard.

The moment turns when a very drunk Jack walks in.

“Oh no,” you grab Nathan’s arm. He pushes you behind him when Jack makes his way towards the two of you. His speech is slurred, and his hair is a mess.

“So, this is who you left me for?” he looks Nathan up and down. Nathan’s jaw is ticked in anger, but he doesn’t want to waste his time on him.

“You were cheating on me, anyway, why do you care?” you shake your head. You’re still so angry at him.

“So? Didn’t you say he was too?” he jabbed a finger onto Nathan’s chest. He brushed him off and breathed out his nose like an angry bull ready to charge.

“It was a mistake dude, and I regret it every fuckin’ day.”

“Did she tell you? She called me Nathan in bed? How I had to live with the reminder of you?”

“Oh, so cheating makes it better?” Nathan’s blood pressure was beginning to rise.

“Well, I needed to get pussy from somewhere, since she wasn’t putting out-“ Jack could barely finish his sentence before Nathan’s fist collided with his nose – breaking it.

Jack leaned back holding his bloody nose as Nathan grabbed him by his shirt collar.

“Don’t you ever insult my wife like that again.”

Jack wanted to swing back and attempted. But Nathan caught his fist, and punched Jack in the stomach. Shame more than anything else sent Jack on his way.

Nathan turned to you to apologize for making a scene, but you’ve never been so attracted to him as you have in this moment. Your new husband just defended your honor.

“Take me home,” you wrap your arms around him.

“You wanna join the-mile-high club? Or can we go fuck in your childhood bedroom since your house isn’t far from here? Do you have any posters of me on your wall?”

You shake your head with a laugh and playfully smack his arm. You pull away from him and greet a family member, and Nathan chases after you.

“That’s not an answer. Babe! Do you have one?”

“Would it make a difference if I said yes?” you grin turning back to him. You loop your hands around his neck, and he puts his hands on your hips.

“Fuck. Fuck, it would make a huge fuckin’ difference. Can we spend the honeymoon in your room?”

“So, you can look at a poster of yourself while you have sex with your new wife?” your smile gets bigger and bigger.

“Fuck. What picture is it?”

“Nathan!”

“Just kidding,” he smiles kissing your lips. “I booked us a nice hotel for our first night.”

“No posters in there,” you giggle.

“I’ll buy one,” he kisses you deeper. “Do you really have one of me in your room-“

He’ll find out soon enough, but you’re not going to tell him that you don’t just have one – but two.

 xx

  tagging: @pascal-isaac​​, @wasicskosgirl​​, @velvetmel0n​​, @huliabitch​​, @shadow-assassin-blix​​, @writefightandflightclub​​, @aellynera​​, @softboywriting​​, @veuliee2​​, @spider-starry​​, @mylifeliterally​​, @millllenniawrites​​, @ntlmundy​​, @foxilayde, @writingletterstothefire​​, @mandoplease​​, @anetteaneta​​, @feelmyroarrrr​​, @artsymaddie​​, @shakespeareanwannabe​​, @poedameronsbeard​​, @deanfanatic67​​​, @magicsuperheroes​​​, @phoenixhalliwell​​​, @that-one-weird-one​​​, @mariesackler, @yourbucky084​​​, @woakiees​

[calpalirwin]

True Crime

Loosely based on/inspired by True Crime by Taylor Acorn

Word Count: 2.6k

And away, and away we go!

__

The stars were bright as they stared up at the sky, their eyes blurry. He pressed the last sip of the bottle to her lips and pulled the blanket tighter around them. “Promise me something,” she whispered, her words slow and slurred.

“Anything,” he nodded, lighting a cigarette. 

“Promise me you’ll love me forever.”

“Only if you promise the same.”

She cupped his face in her hands, looking deep into his blue eyes. “Promise.”

“Promise,” he smiled at her before bringing her in for a kiss that tasted like cheap booze, smelled like cheaper cigarettes, and felt like young love that would last lifetimes.

~~~

Y/N woke with a start, the dream replaced with the blaring of the alarm next to her bed. With a groan, she shut off the alarm, wondering if there would ever come a night where she didn’t dream of Lip Gallagher. But after seven months, she wasn’t holding much hope, and the wondering progressed to thoughts of how to come to terms with the fact that this was her life now.

Y/N had no one to blame but herself. Ian had warned her that his brother, while mostly filled with good intentions, was a ticking time bomb of self-destruction, much like all the other Gallaghers. But his charm, sharp wit, and those piercing blue eyes had made it hard for Y/N to resist the older boy. And the almost year they spent together had left her thinking that maybe Ian had been wrong. Maybe she could be the one good thing in Lip’s life that didn’t explode.

But the explosion had happened. And in the fallout, she had lost not only Lip, but herself as well.

As Y/N left her house, out of habit she started to head south. But like every day for the past seven months, she paused thinking if she really wanted to go that way. Any other day she would have turned to go the other way, not risking being in his part of town, not risking going by the places they used to frequent together. But today, she didn’t change her path. The Southside was big enough, and before the fallout she remembered Ian had mentioned his new job at Fiona’s diner. And just because her and Lip weren’t a thing anymore, didn’t mean she had to let go of Ian too. And today, missing her best friend outweighed the risks she’d been avoiding.

She sucked in her breath as she passed by the open field that had been one of her and Lip’s preferred spot to escape to when things got crazy at his house, which was often. She also picked up her pace, but it didn’t matter. The memory replayed anyway.

~~~

“If you could live anywhere, where would you go?” she asked.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Literally anywhere that’s not here. Why? You wanna run away with me? Train should be coming by soon. We could just hop on, and see where we end up.”

Y/N laughed. “We can’t actually leave, Lip. It’s hypothetical.”

“Well why does it have to be hypothetical? Nobody fuckin’ needs me here. I’m smart, you’re hot. We’d find a way to get by.”

Y/N laughed louder, pushing into his shoulder. “Real funny, Lip.”

“I’m serious. I used to think that maybe I was just fuckin’ useless, but I’m starting to think it’s just this city.”

“It is the city, because you are anything but useless.”

Lip scoffed again. “Nah. All I am here nowadays is another mouth to feed. Another body taking up space. I stopped being useful the minute I turned eighteen, and Frank couldn’t cash a check on my existence anymore. But away from here? Fuck, I could be anybody. A somebody.”

His tone was flat, a simplistic statement of facts. But his eyes betrayed the hurt he still associated with who he thought he was, and the bitter disappointment that he’d never be more than what he was now. “Oh, Lip,” she said softly, cupping his face in one of her palms. “You’re so much more than who they think you are.”

For a brief moment, he leaned into her touch, allowing himself to trust in someone other than himself. “You might be the only one who believes in me.”

“That’s what happens when you love someone, Lip.”

“Again, you might be the only one who does. And trust me, I’m not saying this shit to gain sympathy, or to bring down the mood, or whatever.” His shoulders shrugged, “It’s just the reality of the situation.”

“Well, I love you Philip Gallagher. And if you wanna run away, just say the word, and I will happily follow.”

~~~

The bell on the door jingled as Y/N pushed her way inside Patsy’s Pies. A waitress in a white top tucked into black jeans and an apron tied around her waist told her to have a seat wherever, so Y/N slid into one of the booths along the window. As she glanced around the place, she spotted a busboy cleaning up a nearby table, with bright red hair. “Ian!” she called out, her voice bright.

The busboy turned to the sound, a wide grin breaking out across his face as he recognized her. “Give me two minutes!” he told her before hurriedly going back to his task.

Not even a full two minutes later, Ian was sliding in across from her. “Oh, my God, Y/N! How have you been? I haven’t seen you s- Oh… Right…”

She smiled softly, as she reached across the table to pat her friend’s hand. “I’m okay, Ian. Still hurts, but not as bad as it did. And I’m not here to see him. I came here to see you. See how you’re doing.”

“Oh, I’m good. You know… considering.”

“That’s great, Ian. And it looks like you got a nice routine here. Working out okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not the greatest job in the world. Like I know I have it because it’s how Fiona can keep an eye on me. But better than nothing, I guess. How are things with you?”

“As good as they can be, I guess. Taking some classes at the community college. Nothing extremely brag worthy or anything.”

“So same shit, different day?”

She laughed, “Exactly.” She was about to work up the courage to ask how the rest of the Gallagher clan was doing when the bell on the door jangled, and both their heads turned to the sound.

“Oh, fuck…” Ian groaned at the same time Lip mouthed the words himself.

Y/N steeled herself as Lip walked there way, one of his hands coming to rest on the tabletop. “Y/N. Good to see ya. You look good,” Lip greeted quickly before turning his attention to Ian. “I’m gonna grab Liam, check in with Fi, then we can head out.”

“I’ll do it!” Ian volunteered and shot out of the booth before either Lip or Y/N could protest.

“I-” Lip sighed, rubbing at his face. “Okay…” He sighed again before taking a seat on the edge of the bench seat. “So…” he said, fingers drumming on the wood.

“Don’t,” she cut him off. “We don’t have to do this,” she went on, waving a finger between the two of them. “Make pleasant small talk, or whatever. We can just sit here until Ian comes back, and then you guys can go your way, and I’ll go mine, and it’ll be just like it’s supposed to.”

“Alright, fuck me then…” his defensive snark came out.

“Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” she snapped back.

Lip rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Y/N. God forbid I try to be nice to you.”

“See? That’s exactly what I told you not to do. You don’t get to do what you did, and then play the victim, Lip.”

“Do what?! Say hi?!”

“Do anything, Lip! Seven fuckin’ months of radio silence, and the first thing you decide to say to me is ‘hey, you look good’? What fuckin’ shit is that?!”

“So I was just supposed to ignore you?!”

“It was working so far, wasn’t it?! Until you went and ruined it by talking!”

“I ruined it?! You came here- where my family works- but I ruined it?!”

“Yes! Because I was just fine until you came along!”

“Yeah, well so was I!”

“I’m gonna see you at home, Lip…” Ian’s voice piped up, a backpack slung over his shoulder, one of his hands holding Liam’s. “Y/N, it was great to see you. Catch up soon?”

Y/N flashed a smile at the two Gallagher brothers, her demeanor shifting completely. “Of course, Ian. My number’s still the same. Hey, Liam!”

“What do you mean, you’ll see me at home? I’m coming with you,” Lip cut in.

“No,” Ian shook his head. “Liam and I are going home. You two are gonna finish whatever… this is.”

“It is finished,” they both told him.

Ian snorted. “Yeah right… Y/N, if Lip hadn’t walked in when he did, were you going to ask me about him?”

“Yes…” she mumbled.

“And Lip, were you gonna ask me about Y/N the second we left?”

“Yeah, probably…”

“So just talk to each other now, and leave me out of it.”

“I- Fiona would kill me if you left with Liam, and I didn’t go with you, you know that.”

Ian shrugged. “Guess there’s only one thing to do then.”

Lip gave a shake of his head, muttering some curses under his breath. “Fine. C’mon then,” he finally, getting up from the table and motioning for Y/N to follow them.

“Me?” she asked in disbelief. “You’re joking…”

“Really wish I was. But Ian’s right. We should probably finish whatever this is, rather than ignoring it.”

“How mature of you,” she sarcastically crooned at him as she got up. “Let’s go then.”

~~~

The happy chatter around the dinner table in the Gallagher house warmed Y/N. That had been her favorite part about being in their lives. For as chaotic and dysfunctional as they were, the six siblings were always ride or die for each other.

“So,” Lip prompted, once the chatter had died down, and the Gallaghers had disbanded to various parts of the house.

“So?” Y/N asked.

Lip jerked his head in the direction of the back porch. “C’mon, we can talk outside.”

With a huff, she followed him outside, both of them taking a seat on the steps.

“So,” he started again.

“Why?” she demanded, cutting straight to the chase. “Why?” she repeated again, her lip trembling.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s the best you got? You left me there waiting for you, and the best you got is ‘I don’t know’?”

“Don’t be so dramatic… I didn’t leave you there waiting.”

“Oh!” she scoffed, “Right. My bad. You showed up two hours late, said you couldn’t do this, and then left me.”

“Were you really naive enough to think I could leave with you? That I could ever get out of that?” he flung a hand in the direction of the house.

“No,” she said flatly. “No. I was naive enough to think I could trust you to begin with. Ian warned me about you right from the beginning.”

“Yeah, well you should’ve listened. But you were never good at doing what you were told to do now were you? Always doing the opposite just to prove you could.”

“Classic Lip, putting the blame on others for his own screw ups.”

“Aw, I’m sorry,” he mockingly pouted. “Did I ruin your fairytale by being a fuck-up?”

She snarled as she gave him a hard shove with enough force to make him have to stick out his hand to catch himself. “My life was just fine before you came along, and fucked everything up!”

“Well I guess I did you a favor by leaving then, huh?!”

“A favor?! You think you did me a favor by making me fall in love with you, letting me believe we could be something, and then leaving?!”

“You think I left for my own health?! I was in love with you, too!”

“If you loved me, then why did you leave?!”

“Because I’m a fuckin’ fuck-up! It’s what I do! I ruin good things because I don’t believe I deserve them!”

“So your solution was to break your promise to me?! You didn’t have to run away with me, Lip! In case you didn’t notice, I didn’t leave that night either! We could have just kept being us!”

The words shocked the fight out of him. “You didn’t leave?”

Y/N shook her head, the fight leaving her too. “No. I only wanted to leave because you wanted to.”

“That’s fuckin’ stupid. You know that right? Only doing something because of me? It’s stupid to pin your life on anyone, especially when that person is me.”

“I didn’t pin my life on you because I’m dependent on you, Lip. I wasn’t kidding when I said my life was fine before you. It was. My life just happened to be better with you in it. I was happiest with you. And I was stupid enough to believe you when said you felt the same.”

“You know you’re the only one I ever meant that shit to?”

“If you meant it, then you shouldn’t have broken your promise. You should have stayed.”

“Yeah, maybe I should’ve. Or maybe we did everything right, and we still end up here.”

“Guess we’ll never know.”

“Guess so. And hey, I’m sorry alright?”

“I don’t want your apology, Lip. I want you to be the person I thought you were.”

“Yeah, me too. But I am sorry. I guess part of me thought I was protecting you by walking away before I could let you down. Protecting myself by leaving before you could leave me. But it didn’t work. I just made a bigger mess of my life. And hurt you in the crossfire.”

“Did Lip Gallagher just admit to his own screw ups?” she teased lightly.

“Ha-ha,” he laughed humorlessly. “Believe it or not, sometimes I’m not a complete ass.”

“Only sometimes,” she continued to tease.

This time he chuckled a little. “Well, as much as I want to, I can’t go back and fix what I did. And I can tell you I’m sorry all night, but it doesn’t mean you’ll forgive me. And I can’t blame you if you don’t. I mean, it's not like I forgave myself, either. But, kinda glad for running into you, and getting to talk this out. I’ve uh… missed you being around.”

She smiled softly. “Yeah, it was nice. I’ve uh… missed being around you, too.”

“So… where do we go from here? Is this where I swear that I’ve changed, and I’ll do better if you give me a second chance?”

“Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know. Do I want to be with you again? Yes. But I don’t think it’s as simple as that. What if I haven’t changed? What if my life flies off the rails again- which it will- and I push you away again? I can’t guarantee that I won’t hurt you again. That my instinct won’t be to run the minute things get hard.”

“I guess we gotta decide if that’s a risk worth taking.”

“Is it? Am I the risk worth taking again?”

“Oh, Lip…” Y/N said softly, resting her hand against his face the way she used to. Her thumb brushed along his cheekbone as he leaned into the touch, his eyes watching her carefully. “You’re always gonna be my risk worth taking.”

__

Taglist

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[thiswasinevitableid]

since i am obsessed <33333 with the sternclay fill you did for this prompt, can you do 57 with indruck nsfw?

Here it is! Note: this mentions mating talk.

57: we’re fighting over the last box of half-off valentine’s day chocolate and end up in a “who has it worse” battle

This is it. Duck’s new low. Standing under the high ceilings of Wal-Mart at two in the morning, trying to decide if his dignity can take the hit of someone seeing him scale the shelves to grab the lone leftover bag of valentine’s candy.

Fuck it, those are Ghiradeli caramel squares, he deserves them after today.

Just as he’s choosing his foothold, a large, feathery shape rounds the corner. It figures that the one other customer in the store would need to be in the exact same place as him. He’ll just wait the mothman out.

Duck’s mostly used to seeing random monsters around town; back in the fifties, an interstellar gate opened up in Kepler, making it the home of a small population of cryptids know as Sylphs. When he was younger, he hated the fact he grew up in such a weird-ass place, but these days his brain barely differentiates them from the other Keplerites. They come to the national forest where he works, order their dinners in line ahead of him and, apparently, come to big box stores in the dead of night.

“Ah, excellent.” The mothman chirps, grabbing the bag of caramel squares from the top shelf.

“Hey!”

The antenna-topped head swivels, owl-like, and red eyes regard him with surprise, “Yes? Oh, apologies” he tucks his wings in “I didn’t mean to block your way.

“That ain’t it. I was gonna buy that.” He points at the bag.

The creature cocks his head, “But it was still on the shelf.”

“Yeah, because we ain’t all seven feet tall. I was about to grab it.”

“It’s not my fault you’re short.”

Duck bites back an unkind retort, sighs, “will you just give me the damn bag?”

“Absolutely not. I’ve had a very bad day and this is my conciliation prize.”

“You’ve had a bad day? I went out to a singles night for the first time after gettin dumped a month ago. Figured I’d finds someone to take home, but not a single fuckin person OR Sylph was interested. If anyone needs that candy, it’s me.”

A haughty flick of antenna, “I see your disappointing evening and raise you a reminder that it’s been five years to the day that anyone’s wanted to touch you.”

“Please, this town is crawlin with monsterfuckers, you can’t find someone to mess up those pretty feathers, that sounds like a problem with your personality.”

The mothman chirrs, annoyed, “There’s no need for such remarks. Wait, what was that about my feathers?”

Okay, so maybe Duck has jerked off to mothman porn once or twice. Or a few dozen times. He’s not about to admit that here.

“Uh, I, uh, fuck, I don’t not know, fuck-” he grabs for the bag, hoping to distract the Sylph. It works, but the mothman simply raises it above his head. Duck growls, too committed to his bad idea to back down now, and jumps for it.

A toothy grin, “Since we’re speculating, maybe everyone you encountered tonight was simply in search of a taller partner.”

“Fuck you, I’m five six.”

“What was that? It’s rather hard to hear you down there.”

“That’s it fluffball” He jumps again, fingers grazing the bag before it’s passed to the mothman’s upper set of hands. Mid-leap, he can tell he’s going to fall on his fucking knees, and a broken bone is the last thing he needs. His body acts on panic and wraps his arms and legs around the only stable thing.

“What in the world are you doing?” The mothman trills, lower hands catching Duck’s legs so he doesn’t slide straight to the floor.

“Tryin to get what’s mine.”

“This is ridiculous.” He keeps the candy out of reach as Duck tries to climb him.

“I know, but I ain’t about to let you win.”

“Gentlemen.”

They stop grappling and stare at the beleaguered employee at the end of the aisle.

“Please just get out. Don’t even worry about paying for that, it’s like two bucks and that is not worth dealing with you for.”

They both mumble an apology. Then he lunges up, snatching the bag while his opponent is distracted and bolts for the door. He’s without his car, so he’s half a block from the store when a shadow glides overhead and drops down in front of him.

“That was rude.”

“So was insultin me.”

“You started it.” The cryptid looms over him, “and you only have minor ego bruising to blame for your short temper and poor judgement. I spent the entirety of my day arguing on the phone with government officials until one of them finally listened to me about a dam bursting north of here. I, I deserve something nice.” The last part is said more softly, as if he’s not sure he believes it. That slaps Duck back to his usual sensible state.

Duck sighs, reaches for the cryptid’s arm, “Look man, how about we-”

When his hand makes contact the mothman purrs, then flattens his antenna. Duck runs his hand up the smooth chitin, making the purr double in strength.

“I, I apologize. I didn’t even know this could happen with a human so I did not check the futures for it.”

“For what?”

“I, my kind use playfighting and chase as a mating ritual. Which, combined with those gentle touches just now, means my body thinks you’re a potential partner.”

A thrill creeps up his spine, and he pets the Sylph once more just to hear him purr, “So, uh, what should I do?”

“I suggest you take the candy and” he shudders, “walk home, and we both pretend this never happened.”

“What happens if I run?” Duck sets his hand on the down of the cryptids chest, shivering as it sinks into the fluff.

The mothman looks at him, confusion warring with desire on his face, “I chase you. And since I foresee you asking, if I catch you I will take you then and there unless you tell me not to.”

“Got it.” Duck steps back, smiles when the cryptid tries to follow his touch and then catches himself. He could just walk home and wolf down his hard-won candy. But they’re right by his shortcut through the forest to his house and no one has wanted to chase him for months…

He takes off into the trees.

For the first few yards there’s no sound but crunching leaves and his breathing. Then soft, determined wing-beats glide through the treetops. The canopy is thick here and no one but him knows this path, so he likes his odds of making it home. He even knows where the most troublesome roots are so he won’t trip and lose ground.

Duck’s nearly home when nature betrays him; a deer springs across his path, startling him and sending him to the ground. He scrambles up, listening for signs of the Sylph’s location, but the wingbeats are gone. Did he give up? Is he lying in wait up ahead? Did Duck actually lose him?

The questions spin through his mind as he scans the treetops. There’s nothing, only shadows and bark.

“You know” a voice lilts, coiling around him, “I’d think someone who worked in the woods would know many moths excel at camouflage.”

Red eyes appear in the branches to his right. He gets out a single “fuck” before the mothman swoops down and knocks him into the leaf litter. The candy hits the dirt a few feet away as he’s roughly rolled onto his stomach.

“Holy fuck.” He pants as clawed hands undo his pants and push his shirt up his back, “holy fuUUUuuck, oh christ that’s good.” He rests his head on his forearms as the mothman drags his tongue up his back again.

“Mmmmm, what a lovely little mate I’ve caught.” One set of hands pulls his pants and boxers to his knees while the other caresses his ass, “all dressed up too. I cannot imagine why others passed you up tonight but I am glad they did. Hmmm” claws prick his inner thighs as they’re pushed as wide as they’ll go, “you’re a bit aroused already-”

“Wonder why.” He teases.

“-but I ought to make sure you’re ready to take my cock.” A long, flexible tongue traces circles on his folds. He groans, pushes his hips back in hopes of getting more. The Sylph grants his wish with a purr, thrusting his tongue in hungrily. Duck moans, then snickers into his arms.

“‘At’s ‘o ‘unny?”

“F-feathers, ticklish.” Is what he manages to get out before the tongue curls and finds his G-spot, making it impossible to focus on anything but the being behind him. But the Sylph only gives him a minute of delicious sensation before pulling back.

“There, now you’re ready. I, ah, I suggest you hold on.”

“To whatAHFUCK, fuck, jesusfuckingchrist” his fingers dig into the earth and dead twigs scrape his knees as the Sylph grips his hips and shoves in all at once. The upper set of hands drops to either side of his head as the cryptid hunches over him, snapping his hips while sharp trills and chirps fill the air.

“That’s it sweet one, goodness, years without a partner and the first warm hole I can catch is a tight one, I, I do so love fucking humans for that reason alone, but you, you feel exquisite, ohyes, yesyesyes” he chirrs triumphantly and Duck moans; he’s never been able to feel a partner cum like this. When he glances down his torso, he’s surprised to see the droplets shimmering in the moonlight as they drip down his thighs.

“That was fuckin incredibleAH!” He’s flipped onto his back, the mothmans body blocking out the sky.

“Did you think we were done?” He’s grinning again, the expression as charming as the starlight on his feathers.

“Kinda? Not, uh, not that I mind if you wanna go again.”

“I do.” The cryptid lifts his legs, removing his shoes and clothes as he adds, “again, and again, and again. After all, look how much it likes you” He adjusts so Duck can see his dick. It’s not the size that startles him; it’s the series of ridges on it and the fact that it’s fucking pulsing like it’s got a mind of it’s own.

Duck spreads his legs, “Only it likes me?”

“I’m beginning to share it’s opinion” The tip presses in and the purring intensifies, “though I must say you’ll need to be far more polite and submissive a mate to make up for your--ohgoodness--earlier behavior.”

“Yeah?” Duck smirks, dragging his hands up the soft feathers of his chest, then glides them out to stroke his inner wing “how’s that for a start?”

The Sylph’s chirrs change, growing needier the more Duck pets him, “So very good. No, no one has touched my wings in years.”

Duck studies their sheen, the little speckles of grey and white, and digs his fingers deeper, “Damn shame.”

A soft trill accompanied by three demanding thrusts and then cum spills into him once more.

“Heh, you like when I compliment your feathers? Ohfuckyes” He moans as the Sylph starts thrusting, slower than before but made far more obscene by the sound of his cum being fucked back into Duck’s body.

“I, I do.” He drops his forehead to rest above the top of Duck’s head, “it’s been so long. As you said, this town is full of people who would gladly take a werewolf to bed but have...reservations about one such as me.”

“Their loss” Duck nuzzles the ruff of feathers around the Sylphs neck, runs his hands greedily along his wings, “these alone are so fuckin gorgeous there oughta be a line of folks beggin for the chance to mess ‘em up while they ride you.”

The mothman whimpers, chirps when Duck leans sideways to trail kisses along his right wing. His hips are moving lazily in time with the roll of Duck’s own and he sighs with every thrust, as if Duck is his favorite place to be.

“Got some broken feathers.” He murmurs.

“A peril of fast flights and living alone. It’s better if someone else pulls them free and grooms them for you.”

“I could do that.”

A hungry moan as the mothman noses his hair, “You’re making me wish I hadn’t caught you so soon; had we played longer, my ovipositor would have joined the fun, and you’re so wonderful a mate I ought to lay in you.”

“Jesusfuck” Duck fists his hands into his chest feathers, bucking his hips.

“Oh, do you like that? The thought of being a handsome little hole for me to stuff my eggs in?”

“Yes, holy fuck yes.”

The thrusts turn demanding, “Just one more way in which you’re perfect. You’re strong, you’ve a lovely shape” one hand runs possessively across Duck’s belly and chest, “and it only takes a little bit of vigorous fucking to make you well-behaved and willing to be properly mated.”

“Fuck, fuckin christ that’s goodOH, ohfuckrightthere” one of the ridges is catching his dick, pushing him towards orgasm, “please don’t stop, don’t you dare fuckin stop-”

“Never” it comes out in a growl, “I want to see you be a good little human and cum on my cock while I fill you up. Oh yes, yes” he smiles down at him, “it seems you’re about to oblige meAHhnnnn, goodness you tighten so nicely when you finish” he speeds up, jostling Duck as his climax renders him limp, “yes, yes sweet one hold out just a moment, nnnf, oh, ohyes” He spills into him, Duck’s body unable to contain it all and sending it running down the cryptid’s shaft and the humans thighs. Then the mothman eases out with a low chirp and sits back on his heels.

Duck flops his arms about until he finds plastic, pulling the bag of candy to him as he sits up. He yanks it open, undoes the foil, and freezes. The cryptid isn’t looking at him, isn’t making any noise. He’s just hunched forward, antenna flattening.

“You okay?” Duck finishes freeing the chocolate square.

“Yes” there’s a sniff, “yes I’ll be fine.”

“That ain’t quite what I asked.” He holds the candy out. Antenna twitch, but the mothman keeps his head down.

“I apologize, I, I meant to wait until you left but I, I got overwhelmed. You were so sweet, you let me do all that and I, I don’t even know your name.”

“That’s an easy fix. I’m Duck. It’s a nickname.”

The cryptid finally looks up, takes the offered treat between his claws, “I’m Indrid.” He pops the candy in his mouth and chews miserably.

Duck pulls his boxers on to avoid getting any more pine needle pokes on his ass, then scoots closer, “So, uh, Indrid. Is there somethin special we need for groomin your wings? My place makes the most sense as a next stop, but if there’s a special tool might be better to go to yours.”

Indrid blinks, cocks his head, “You...you want to groom them? I, I thought that was just dirty talk.”

“Can be. But I was serious; now that I got a taste of those wings, I wanna touch ‘em whenever you’ll let me.”

“This is the least likely timeline.” Indrid whispers to himself

“What’d I do in the other ones?”

“Thanked me for a good time and left.”

“See, I thought about that” Duck tentatively moves forward, smiles when Indrid allows him into his lap to stroke his face, “but then I thought, ‘this fella’s fuckin mind blowin in bed, but I wanna get to know what he’s like the rest of the time. Can’t do that if I up and leave.” He offers another chocolate. Indrid eats it out of his hand, then wraps his wings around him.

“I, ah, there’s a special oil for my feathers.”

“Should we go get it?”

“We could. Or” he smiles, hopeful, “we could go to my place tomorrow morning. After we rest at your home and you let me buy you breakfast.”

Duck kisses his fuzzy cheek, “Yeah, let’s do that.”

[harley-sunday]

This is Where I Leave You

Summary: What was supposed to be a simple mission turns out to be a matter of life and death. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader [unnamed OFC (loosely based on Firestar)]

Warnings: ANGST. Character death. Language.

Word count: 5.9k

AN: Not sure why but I was in the mood for some angst last week and so here it is. It is somewhat inspired by Flashpoint S02E14 for those of you who know that show, but it takes place in that wonderful Marvel fanfic Universe where everyone lives at the compound/in the tower and Friday night’s are for Tony’s parties. I’m sure you know the one. I apologize in advance and yes, I did cry while writing this, so…

♥

Flashbacks in italics

In for seven, out for eleven.

It’s almost like a mantra stuck on repeat in your head, a distraction that only works half of the time. 

In for seven, out for eleven.

In for seven, out for-

All of a sudden something moving in the treeline catches your eye and you squint against the sun to try and figure what it is and if you should alert Steve. 

Steve, who’s on his knees at your feet, quietly working away and completely focused on the task at hand, although you can tell from the tense muscles in his back and the beads of sweat crowning his hairline that there’s probably a war going on inside of him. You wonder what he’s thinking right now and if he also feels like the weight of the world has been dropped on his shoulders.

Something steps out from in between the trees then and you let out a sigh of relief when you see it’s just a deer and her two fawns foraging for food. You watch them as they continue their journey, the fawns trailing behind their mother as if they’re connected by an invisible string, completely unaware of the two humans that are not even fifty yards away. You know the direction of the wind is in your favor, a brisk breeze kissing your face every now and then, a welcome relief from the sun that’s burning your cheeks, but even so you are amazed at how invisible you can become if you just stand still. 

Your watch beeps then, scaring off the animals and letting you know another minute has passed. Like he did at every other minute mark, sixteen of them now in total, Steve looks up to check on you. 

“You ok?”

“Yeah,” it comes out a little shaky and the tears that have started to form in your eyes are not helping to convince him. You try to smile, “Guess I should have taken a better look at that waiver Tony made me sign when I first joined, huh?”

“Rogers,” Tony says as he takes your elbow and guides you to where Captain America is standing, alone, in front of the large windows that make up the entire west wall of Tony and Pepper’s penthouse, his hands in his pockets and his back to the crowded room. 

He turns around just as you and Tony reach him and you wonder if the serum has enhanced his hearing so that he can hear you approach him even over the murmur of the crowd that’s gathered here for one of Tony’s infamous parties, but then you realize he must have seen your reflection in the window he was staring out of. 

“Cap,” Tony says as he gently pushes you forward, “I’d like you to meet our newest recruit.”

You can see Cap’s eyebrows knit together as his eyes land on your face but before you can say anything Tony beats you to it.

“Don’t look at her like that, she’s still a good, what-” he shrugs, “-sixty years younger than you.”

You throw Tony a look, “Sixty-eight, thank you very much.” 

“Whatever,” Tony says with a very elaborate roll of his eyes.

You shake your head and try to ignore him, instead holding out your hand and introducing yourself.

“Steve Rogers,” Steve replies with a hesitant smile, his eyes moving from you to Tony as if he’s trying to figure out your history. 

“Yeah, so uh, she’s a nuclear engineer but as we all know-” Tony nods to his left where Bruce is sitting at the bar, “-sometimes experiments fail, you know, liquids get mixed up, nasty stuff. So now Firestar over here can produce radiation and light, and can absorb and manipulate energy. Pretty nifty, if you ask me, but then again-”

“Tony-” 

“You know what, fine,” Tony says with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I just came here to introduce you to Cap since he wasn’t here for the official introduction earlier this week.” He turns to Steve then, “Told you she’d be a delight.” 

You shake your head at Tony, “Please go away.” 

Tony fakes being shocked, hand to his chest as he says, “Remind me to write you up for bad behavior, Sparky,” before he salutes the two of you and disappears.

“Asshole,” you mutter quietly as you watch him make his way across the room. When you turn back you find Steve staring at you with a questionable look in his eyes. You’re quick to explain, “I know him from before all of this-” you hesitate but then you hold up your hand and snap your fingers, creating a tiny spark, “-happened. We worked together on some projects in the past and when he found out about the “incident”-” you air-quote the word, “-he contacted me and told me there would always be a place for me here.” You smile, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’ve known him long enough to know he can be a real pain in the ass sometimes.” 

“Hmm,” Steve agrees, although he doesn’t comment on it any further. Instead he nods towards the other people in the room, his hands back in the pockets of his pants again, “Everyone treating you ok so far?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “it’s nice to be here.” It’s true. Ever since the incident at the lab you’ve felt like an outsider, felt people could tell there was something wrong with you, but not here. Here people are kind, not just interested in your powers but in you as a person, and honestly it’s like a weight has lifted off your shoulders. 

“Good.” 

You open your mouth to say something but it’s then your watch beeps, letting you know it’s time to get back downstairs. “I’m sorry,” you look up at Steve, “I have some things I need to do in the lab.” You pull a face, “Probably best not to mess up five months worth of experiments in my first week here, right?” 

Steve chuckles, “Probably not, no.” 

“So,” you try to smile, “I guess this is where I leave you.”

After another three minutes have passed you risk a quick glance down and see Steve’s still trying to clear the dirt surrounding your foot, his movements as controlled as possible, trying not to touch the box you’re standing on. When you look up again you do the same thing you’ve been doing for the past ten minutes or so and start listing off the things that are in your field of vision.

“Tahoe on my left,” you whisper, “an iron gate in front of it, three barracks to my right, all their doors open.” You let out a staggered breath, “The tree line in front and behind me, and a mother deer and her two fawns wandering around somewhere.”

“Steve at your feet,” he says then, looking up at you with a weak smile, “trying to get you out of this mess.”

“This is going to be one hell of a debriefing, Cap,” you try, but your voice catches on his name and when you try to smile you feel yourself failing.

“I don’t understand, Nat.” You let out a frustrated sigh and throw your gym bag on the floor, “Why does he have to be such an asshole?”

“He’s not-” 

“He tells me to watch my language like I’m a fuckin’ sixteen-year old kid,” you hold up your hand and start counting on your fingers, “he makes me write the reports after every mission we go on and then ever since last month, he wants to meet up so we can debrief but it’s always just the two of us, whoever else is on our team doesn’t have to attend for whatever reason, and then during our last mission brief he told me to be careful. Like, what the hell is that about?”

“Maybe he-”

“I have been a part of the team for over a year and all of a sudden he’s worried about me? That accident in the lab should have killed me, and let me tell you, I was ok with that. I made peace with it. But instead of dying I can now produce fuckin’ radiation at any given time,” you fume, “so I don’t think breaking and entering into a high security prison to retrieve the file of one their inmates is going to me killed. I’m sorry, but no.” 

Natasha throws you a look, silently asking if there’s more or if this is it. When you don’t say anything else she takes a deep breath and holds out her hands, letting you know she comes in peace, “Maybe he does those things because he likes you.”

“I- He-,” you stutter. “What?”

Natasha drops her hands and sits down on one of the benches, patting the spot next to her and waiting for you to sit down before she continues, “I’ve known Steve for a while so,” she shrugs, “I like to think that I know him,  sometimes maybe even better than he knows himself.” She smiles at you then, “I see the way he looks at you when he tells you to be careful-”

You scoff, “Yeah, sure.” 

“No.” Natasha shakes her head, “You want to know the reason why he wants you to write those reports?”

You shrug.

“It’s because he values your opinion more than anyone else’s,” Nat puts her hand on your arm and gives it a gentle squeeze, “and all those debriefings with just the two of you?” She chuckles, “That was my idea.” 

“What?”

“Like I said, I see the way he looks at you, but-” Natasha shakes her head, “-he would never admit it. Not to me, not to you, and sure as hell not to himself. He’s lost so much already that he doesn’t even believe this is a possibility.”

“And what makes you think I do?”

“Oh come on,” Natasha nudges you with her shoulder, “I’ve seen the way you look at him too.” 

“Steve?”

He stands up at the sound of your voice, so suddenly that it makes you want to take a step back, and so you curse quietly when at the very last nanosecond you realize that you can’t. Your leg’s a little shaky, no doubt a result of the conflict between the neurons your brain already fired when you wanted to move and the new neurons that were sent to intercept that message when you remembered you shouldn’t move. With a grunt you try to regain your balance while trying to make sure you don’t move your weight around too much because God knows what will happen if it does.  

“Shit,” he holds up his hands to you, “I’m sorry. I-”

“Hey,” you say with a faint smile, “language.” You nod towards the Tahoe that’s parked just outside the gate, “You think you could get me a bottle of water? I’m feeling a little thirsty.” 

Steve looks from you to the box and back, unsure almost.

You glance at your watch, “I’ve been here for almost twenty five minutes,” you try your hardest to smile, “I’m sure it’ll be alright.”

“Ok,” he nods, “just don’t move, ok?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the P. 

“I’ll be right back.” 

“Go on,” you nod towards the car, “I’m not going anywhere.” You know it is the wrong thing to say when you see him try to hide the pained look that crosses his face by turning around quickly, but you catch a glimpse of it anyway and it makes your eyes burn with unshed tears while a ragged breath escapes you. The unfairness of it all hurting you the most.

Before you have time to think about it though, your watch buzzes to let you know you have a new message from Nat, telling you to switch your comms unit over to channel two. You tap the settings on your watch and change the channel effortlessly, “Nat?” 

“Hey,” her voice is kind, softer than usual, and it’s at that moment you realize this is way worse than you thought. “You ok?” 

“Tell me what you know,” you reply instead, not really wanting to answer her question because you are sure that it will break you if you do. 

Nat clears her throat, “We’re almost there.”

“What’s almost?”  

Natasha hesitates.

“Nat-”

“Twenty minutes,” her voice is barely above a whisper. 

“Fuck.” All of a sudden it’s getting difficult to breath and it feels as if someone has dropped a hundred pound weight on your chest and then punched you in the stomach for good measure. 

“Just breathe,” Nat says, “please. Just,” she sighs, “don’t move and keep breathing, ok?”

It’s then you hear Steve close the car door, holding two bottles of water, “I need to go.” You let out a shaky breath, “Nat,  If I don’t- Promise me you’ll take care of him?”

“Don’t-”

“Nat,” you plead, “promise me.”

“Ok,” she whispers, “I promise.” 

You let him know you’re there with a soft knock on the door before you step inside, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he draws out, suspiciously eyeing the basket you're carrying.

“Uh, yeah,” you say, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks but deciding it’s better not to beat around the bush, “so today a year ago we had our first debriefing together and I thought maybe we should celebrate?” 

“Hmm,” he replies while walking over to where you’ve put the basket on the table, trying to lift the lid.

“Don’t,” you say as you swat away his hand, “you’ll ruin the surprise.” 

“Surely you don’t want to celebrate here?” 

“Why not?” You smile, “This is where we had our first debriefing after all,” a grin then, “and every one after that.”

“Well, if you’re up for it,” he says with a smile, “maybe we could go up to the roof? I think there’s a picnic table up there, so-”

“I’d like that,” you say, reaching for the basket. 

This time it’s him who swats away your hand as he grabs the handle, “Come on.” 

You follow him to the elevator bay not too far from the meeting room, for once glad that he prefers to have the debriefings at night, when there’s no one else around. There’s an elevator already waiting for you and when you get inside you push the button needed, while you wait for the elevator doors to close. 

When you get to the top floor and off the elevator you walk next to Steve as you make your way to the south corner of the building, to where the roof access is. Steve’s been awfully quiet ever since you stepped off the elevator and you start to wonder if this was such a good idea after all, but then you open the door that leads to the roof and you let out a gasp, “Oh,”

There’s a small platform that has four posts on each corner, with strings of lights hanging between them, casting a warm yellow glow on the picnic table that stands in the center. 

You look from Steve to the scene in front of you and back, “You did this?”

He smiles, “You’re not the only one who remembered our debriefing anniversary.” 

“I love it,” you tell him with a smile before you make your way to the platform. There’s a bottle of what looks like champagne in an ice bucket on the table and when you recognize the label you turn around, “How did you know?”

Steve shrugs, a mischievous smile on his lips, “I have my ways.”

“You have Nat,” you reply, suddenly remembering the conversation you had with her not even two weeks ago. She kept asking you all these random questions, like what your favorite drink was and if you preferred savory over sweet when it came to snacks. And now all your answers are on the table in front of you. “Remind me to thank her.”

“Already did,” Steve says with a grin. He motions for you to sit down and takes out the bottle of champagne, uncorking it with ease and filling up the two glasses that are on either side of the table without spilling anything.

“Captain America,” you tease, “popping champagne like it’s nobody’s business. Who knew?”  

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” 

“Really?”

He just nods and hands you your glass before he holds up his own and clinks it against yours, “Cheers.” 

“Cheers,” you reply, “to, uh, the debriefing crew?”

He chuckles, “To us.” 

“To us.” You watch him as he sits down opposite to you, and take a sip of your champagne, relishing the way it tickles your throat. You smile then, “I know you take your first coffee of the day with milk and sugar but that every other cup after that is black. I know you like baseball more than american football even though you don’t want Tony to find out.”

“What are you-”

“I know you and Nat are like brother and sister and that you value her opinion the most.” You shrug, “I know we work well together, even though you really should stop telling me to watch my language, and-” You hesitate then and drop your gaze down to your hands. 

His foot nudges yours under the table, “And?”

“And,” you draw out, “I know you like me,” you look back up at him, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, “and I know I like you too.”

The sun’s at its highest point and you can feel yourself starting to get a little lightheaded just as your watch beeps to let you know you’ve passed the thirty-minute mark. You get ready to answer Steve’s inevitable question, but it never comes, instead there’s not but silence and it feels ominous, worrying you more than everything that has happened so far. 

When you look down you see Steve sitting back on his heels, shaking his head. 

“Steve?”

“I can’t do this.” He looks up at you, his eyes filled with dread “I am so sorry.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’ve never seen one of these before,” he nods at the box, “I don’t know how to-”

“Hey,” you tell him, holding out your hands to him even though you can’t reach him, “it’s ok. Tony will be here soon, right? He’ll know what to do.” 

Steve lowers his head, not looking at you and ignoring your outstretched hands, “Yeah.” 

“Steve,” you tell him, your voice much more commanding now. You wait until he looks at you before you continue, “It’s ok.” There’s a weight behind your words that you hope he understands, even if maybe he doesn’t want to. 

He runs a hand over his face and straightens his back, “Ok. Let me get an update from Tony and then we’ll take it from there, ok?”

“Ok,” you agree and watch as he walks towards the gate, no doubt to keep you out of earshot. A little frustrated to be left out of the conversation you activate your comms unit, “Nat?”

“Yeah?”

“What channel are they on?” 

She probably knows better than to argue with you and so she lets out a resigned, “Five point three.”

“Thank you.” Before she has a chance to say anything else you push the button needed on your watch to switch to the other channel and all of a sudden Tony’s voice comes in loud and clear over your comms unit that you wear in your left ear.

“You sure about that, Cap?” 

You see more than hear Steve’s frustration from the way he’s pacing in front of the gate, “It’s a TM-38, Tony. Soviet-made. I’ve seen them in the field before.” 

“And there’s no way you can dismantle it?” Tony tries again, his voice a little tighter now.

“No,” Steve says while he looks at you, the desperation in his voice matched by his pained expression.

The mission brief is simple. The HYDRA division that used the army base had abandoned it in a hurry three days ago, leaving behind a plethora of important files that you and Steve are sent out to retrieve. This morning you tried to convince Tony to delay the mission with one or two days, not particularly looking forward to spending your six-month anniversary out in the field instead of the nice little restaurant Steve promised he would take you to. 

Tony didn’t budge, said he had intel that HYDRA wanted to return to collect what they could sooner rather than later and so here you are, trying to navigate through the dense Monongahela National Forest in West Virginia while Steve is driving the Tahoe that somehow got transported here on the Quinjet. 

“There it is,” you point towards a stone structure on your right. The base is surrounded by tall trees and definitely looks like something HYDRA would use to hide out in. You can only see three barracks above ground, but the map Nat has given you on the flight over shows an intricate underground network of tunnels, bunkers, and panic rooms. 

The room you’re interested in, however, is all the way in the back, housing about five servers full of information you’re desperate to get your hands on. There’s a laptop in your backpack to connect to the servers, and a program written by Bruce that should be able to copy the files in no time.

“Ready?” Steve asks once he’s pulled up to the gate. He looks at you with a smile and then surprises you by leaning in and giving you a kiss, “Not how I wanted to spend our anniversary, but-”

“Yeah,” you agree, for a moment allowing yourself to get lost in his eyes. Your watch double beeps then, letting you know it’s go-time and so you grab your backpack and exit the car, drawing your gun as soon as you reach the gate.

With every step you take towards the first of the three barracks it is clear that there’s no one here, the doors of all the buildings wide open and not a sound to be heard except your footsteps. You feel yourself start to relax a little and a sliver of hope starts to form somewhere, because maybe you will make it home in time for dinner after all. 

The trek to the server room proves to be rather uneventful and once you’ve connected the laptop to the mainframe it only takes about twenty minutes for the files to upload. You use that time to scout the other rooms for valuable information, but come up empty-handed. Apart from the servers there’s not much they’ve left behind and you can’t help but wonder if this was all some sort of setup and if by downloading the files you’re bringing in some sort of spy-ware. 

“Remind me to tell Bruce to check the files for any malware,” you tell Steve, who nods. A notification lights up on your screen then, letting you know the download is complete. You unplug the laptop and stow it in your backpack before you nod to Steve, “Ready.”

“Alright, let’s head out.”

When you finally make it outside again, you have to blink a few times to adjust to the bright sunlight that’s shining through the treetops. You’re following a few steps behind Steve as you fish a piece of paper out of your pocket, on it the coordinates for the pick-up point you’re supposed to go to, so the team can fly you back to the compound. Of course they’re programmed into your watch as well, but you like the act of taking a minute to write down the pick-up coordinates before you leave on your mission, almost like a sort of good-luck charm to remind you to make it home safe. 

A quick glance at your watch tells you it’s still early enough to make it back in time for dinner and you’re just about to tell Steve the good news when a gust of wind blows the paper out of your hand. You chase after it, stepping off the path that leads to the gate and onto the soft forest floor. You almost catch it but then the wind picks it up again and for a moment you debate just leaving it, after all it’s just a piece of paper, but the information on it is too important and so once again you chase after it.  

Finally it’s within reach and you stick your foot out, hoping to trap the piece of paper under your shoe before it flies off again. There’s a click resounding through the sole of your shoe once you’ve put your foot down, the surface on which you’re standing hard and not at all like the soft bed of pine needles you were walking on before. Instantly a chill runs through your spine and you try to stay in position, afraid of what will happen if you move.

“Steve?” 

He must hear the panic in your voice because he turns around right away, his brows furrowed as he tries to understand what’s going on. 

“I’ve stepped on something,” you try to explain, but your voice is too weak and the wind carries it away from him. You point at your ear and turn on your comms unit, before you hold up your hand to tell him to stay in position, “Can you hear me?”

“Yes.” 

“I- uh,” you let out a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts so you can give him as much information as possible, “I stepped on something. It’s a- It’s a hard surface, almost like metal, and when I put my weight down on my foot, something underneath clicked, like-”

“Like you stepped on a pressure plate?” Steve asks, already one step ahead of you.

“Yes,”

“Steve?” It’s Natasha who comes in first, “What’s going on?”

“Rogers,” Tony barks through the comms unit, “I need a status report stat.” 

“Please,” Steve pleads, his voice rough and full of emotion, “just- Just give me a second.” 

You can see him tap his watch before he runs a hand over his face, no doubt trying to figure out what to do next. With a small nod, almost as if he tries to convince himself, he drops his backpack and slowly starts making his way towards you.

“Steve. Don’t” you tell him, but either he really doesn’t hear you or just pretends he doesn’t because he keeps walking.

“Talk to me, Sparky,” Tony says, his voice much kinder now. “Cap’s offline, yeah?”

“I think so, but he’s making his way towards me, Tony, I-” you look around you, “I don’t know if it’s safe. Please tell him to stop-”

“His comm’s off,” 

“There must be some way to turn it on remotely, right?” There’s no reply and so you try again, “Right?”

“Fine,” Tony sighs, “but before I do I want you to know that there’s nothing we can say to stop him. You know that right?”

You lock eyes with the man walking towards you and your heart suddenly feels heavy in your chest, “I know.” When Steve reaches you, you turn off your comms unit, “So, what’s the plan, Cap?”

“I need to take a good look at it first,” Steve says as he drops to his knees, “just try to stay still, ok?”

You nod, “Yup,” and for the first minute or so you look down to try and see what he’s doing, but it messes with your balance and so instead you focus on the treeline in front of you, trying to remember the breathing exercises Clint taught you during one of your stakeouts together. 

Breathe in for seven seconds, out for eleven.

In for seven, out for eleven.

Another beep, but this time you ignore the impulse to check your watch. You don’t want to know how long you’ve been here. It doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters now is making sure Steve makes it out of this alive.

“They’re five minutes out,” he says when he gets back to you. 

“Ok,” you tell him, eyeing his reaction to see if he hears you over the comms unit you still have switched on. He doesn’t respond and so you figure he must have turned it off after talking to Tony, which is good. He kneels at your feet again, why you’re not sure. There’s nothing he can do. Still, it gives you a chance to check in with the rest of the team and you quietly whisper, “Team, do you copy?”

“Loud and clear,” Nat replies almost immediately. 

“Same,” Tony and Bruce say at the same time, while Clint’s “Yes, ma’am,” follows a little later. 

“Steve?” You wait until he looks up at you before you continue, “I think we need to consider our options here.” 

“Why?” He looks confused, “The team’s almost here, they’ll know what to do.”

“And if they don’t?”

“And if they don’t,” he bites back in a tone of voice you haven’t heard before, “we’ll find another solution.” 

“Steve-”

“No.” He pushes himself up and stands in front of you with his hands on his hips, “We’ll find a way.”

You hesitate, trying to find the right words, “I’m going to ask you a question and I need you to be completely honest with me, ok?”

“That depends on what you’re about to ask me, because-”

“Do you think I could absorb the energy that this thing produces?” 

He shakes his head, “I don’t-”

“No,” Bruce comes in over your earpiece, sounding absolutely defeated, “I’ve run several calculations but there are way too many variables-”

“This thing is too strong,” Tony says, the desperation seeping through his voice, “before you have a chance to absorb any of it you would be-”

“-know.” Steve lets out a heavy sigh, “I don’t know enough about nuclear physics to even try to answer that question.” 

“Ok,” you nod, trying to stay calm even though your heart is screaming and your stomach is twisting and turning inside of you, “but Tony and Bruce are sure they can dismantle it?”

“They said-”

“No,” it’s Bruce who speaks up first again.

“There’s no way to dismantle it safely,” Nat says, her voice low. “The Soviets purposely built it that way.”

No matter how hard you try to hide it, you are sure something registers on your face. Disbelief first, anger next because Jesus, Steve was supposed to be your happy ending, and finally acceptance, Nat’s words about not being able to dismantle the mine slowly turning into something inevitable. It’s ok, you tell yourself. You were living on borrowed time anyway. 

“-they could try,” Steve says, looking at you in a way that tells you he knows something’s up. He points at his earpiece, “Your comm’s on, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you say, trying to give him an apologetic smile, but undoubtedly failing. “I’m sorry, Steve, but-” you shrug, “I just had to know.” You bite your lip to keep from crying and it’s almost as if the reality of it all has finally sunken in, “There’s nothing we can do.” 

“There has to be something-”

A chorus of no’s echoes over your comms unit. 

“No,” you shake your head, the tears you've been trying so hard to fight back finally spilling over, “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Steve. My heart is pounding in my chest, my leg has been shaking non-stop for the past minute or so, if I- If I spasm right now-”

“Stop.”

“Steve-”

“Stop!” He rubs his hands over his face, “There’s got to be another way.” He turns his comms unit back on, “Bruce, what about a weight transfer?”

Bruce hesitates, “I’m not sure I-”

“The only reason the mine hasn’t exploded yet is because somehow her weight is keeping the pin in place, right?” He sounds frantic, pacing back and forth in front of you, “So what if I find something that’s the same weight and we do a transfer?”

“I don’t know, Cap,” Bruce says, “that’s really tricky. It has to be perfectly timed.” 

“At least wait until we get there,” Tony suggests, “don’t go at this on your own.”

“We’re less than a minute out, Steve,” Nat offers, “please wait.” 

“What about my shield, maybe-”

“Steve?” Your voice is weak, hardly audible but somehow he hears you and stops talking. “Steve, look at me.” When he does, you nod, “It’s ok.”

“What?” 

“Go get your shield.” You take a ragged breath and blow it out in a small puff before you nod to the car, “Go.”

“They’re almost here,” Steve tries and you know it’s because he doesn’t want to leave you, “they can pick it up.”

“Steve,” you try again, your voice a little louder this time, “go get your shield.” 

He looks from you to the car and back, unsure of what to do. 

It’s then you hear the distant rumble of another vehicle approaching and you know there’s not much time left. Another deep breath, “Now.” 

He furrows his brows at your command but then does as he’s told, and you let out a sigh of relief as you watch him jog to the car where he opens the trunk. He stands still for a moment, drops his head, and you can tell he’s feeling desperate and out of control. Leaving him behind hurts you more than anything else, but you know there’s no way you’ll make it out of this alive. It feels like whatever got a hold of your heart earlier tightens its grip, making you gasp for breath. 

“Steve,” you tell him, your voice soft as you see him turn towards you, his shield in one hand as he closes the trunk with the other, “it’s ok. It’s time to let me go.” 

You think you hear Tony whisper a quiet, “Fuck,” over the comms unit. 

“I know. I’m sorry guys,” you tell your team, “but I guess we all know there’s no other way.”  “Are you sure?” It’s Tony who asks you the question. You nod, even though they can’t see you, “It’s the only way.”

“It’s ok,” Nat says, her voice a little unsteady, “It’s ok. I’ll take care of him.” 

“I’m gonna miss you, kid,” Clint tells you in a whisper.

“It was an honor working with you,” Bruce says, his voice catching on the last word, “I’ll keep your research going, doc.” 

“You are braver than anyone I’ve ever met,” Tony admits quietly, “I won’t forget you.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper, a single tear sliding down your cheek. 

When you look back up you see Steve is still rooted in the same spot, disbelief written all over his face. You try to smile at him, “I love you,” a sob then, “I just want you to know that.” 

Something else registers on his face then, something you recognize as the determination to make things right and you know it’s your cue. 

“Let me go, Steve,” you nod to let him know it’s ok. A faint smile then as you remember the first time you met him, “I guess this is where I leave you.”

From that moment everything happens in slow motion. 

Steve is running towards you, eyes wide in shock when finally he understands what you’re about to do. 

You give him one last apologetic smile, and another “I love you.” 

He comes to an abrupt stop just thirty yards away from you and watches you as you take one last deep breath. 

It’s time to move, you tell yourself, and when the neurons fire from your brain and the muscles in your leg react you whisper a final, “It’s ok.” 

The last thing you see and hear is Steve, his eyes finding yours as he quietly tells you, “It’s ok. I love you.” 

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Seven

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 7 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: abusive parental relationship; strong language; canon-level violence (explosions); mentions of alcohol poisoning; mention of Infinity War/Endgame deaths; perceived domestic partner abuse (no such thing actually happens!); concussions and minor injuries; mentions of arranged marriages; mentions of drug smuggling and human smuggling; lying; ANGST!

Word Count: 14,100+

A/N: So close to the finish line...

~

Spain, 2024, 5:07 pm.

    “Get the damn ice cream, Peter. I’m not holding you back.”

The kid sped down the sidewalk as fast as his feet would let him, skips in his steps and ignoring the chastising yells from Bucky. 

“You’re letting him have sugar?” Bucky whines, sluggish in his own steps. The Spanish summer sun was blaring, burning your forehead and building the same cold craving in your throat. It was just the three of you, carefree but melting, happy but annoyed with the constant proximity of each other. The villa (if you could call it that, it was more of a cottage) was listed as having three rooms - not the two you were stuck with. Bucky was at the last inch of self-control, begging you to switch with him - if only for one night - because ‘the kid fuckin’ talks in his sleep, doll! One more night and I might smother him.’

It was Bucky’s idea to take a little vacation. A year after the blip and only a few months after Peter’s world was turned upside down, a vacation seemed like the best choice. Preferably somewhere that was quiet and somewhat rural - somewhere you guys won’t be easily recognized. 

So the three of you packed and flew across the pond. In all honesty, you hadn’t even told the rest of the team where you were going besides Wanda. One day you were greeting them in the common room and preparing lunch, the other you were throwing your suitcase in one of the two vacant rooms in this little Spanish cottage. The three of you were truly off the map in terms of late notice. 

“Let the kid live. He’s having a mid-life crisis at eighteen.”

“I’ve had more mid-life crisis’s than his age combined. He’s not special.” The pointed look on your face had Bucky sighing in small defeat. “Okay, okay.”

These past two weeks in shared solitude, even if this trip was supposed to be relaxing, was beginning to melt into a tiresome routine. Well, just nights. The days were mild at best. And to make matters worse, you and Bucky had been dodging the team’s calls, messages that you left for voicemail. Bucky had clicked ‘end call’ more times than he could count and his excuse was always, ‘ the kid doesn’t want to leave, doll.’ Even annoyed with Peter, Bucky wanted only the best. 

It was only a matter of time until your phones were tracked and you were forced to come home. Everyone probably knew where you were anyway - you weren’t exactly hiding. But since you already got a good two weeks in, you figured they had taken some sympathy. 

“Think we can get him to visit a museum today or something?”

Bucky shrugged, lining up at the coffee stand near the ice cream cart. “Saw him checking out banana bread recipes last night. Seems more like a baking day.”

You could go for some banana bread. Ordering two iced coffees and making more miscellaneous small talk while waiting for Peter to order, you studied the streets of Spain. The country had suffered greatly when, cruelly, more than half their population disappeared. Left in proper ruins, no one believed it would ever recover. But then there was an election, a change in the structural government, and it just… did. They rebuilt themselves better than any country had, in your opinion. 

It was a rather calm day with minimal people out and about. It was exactly what you guys deserved after every mission - in your case, after a long month of PR recovery after that bar fight alongside Sam. 

“You bake, Barnes?”

He smiled fully, “Any chance I get.”

“You guys want anything?” Peter yelled out, bouncing lightly on his heels as he waited. You waved him off. “You sure? It’s pretty cheap for summer prices!”

After rejecting Peter’s dozen ice cream questions and offers, the three of you decided the heat was a little too much to bear, even with sunscreen. Peter spoke most of the way. Something about that banana bread.

Bucky, being the baker, helped him choose the best recipe of the four Peter had bookmarked and soon the kitchen was only half dirty with eggs and mashed bananas.

“What do you mean a cup of baking soda, kid? Use your eyes,” Bucky yelled in second hand embarrassment. “I don’t think a cup of baking soda goes in anything.”

“Read right here, dude,” Peter poked at his tablet. “A cuuuu... okay. Okay, I see what I read wrong.”

“You two better be making me some good ass banana bread today. I don’t want to throw up!” You had opted to let the two men have their fun in the kitchen. You tried to bake, but you were more of a cook than anything else.

“You could be reading out the directions.”

“I could do a lot of things,” you respond with the emphasis on “could”.

The doorbell interrupted your no-so-real argument. Peter snickered, “You could get the door.”

With a displeased grunt and a straightened middle finger to the kid, you opened the door to find two people who were definitely not invited. Clint, with this magical and massive smile on his face and Steve, with his eyebrow cocked and arms crossed.

“Oh, would you look at that. Guests! Welcome to our humble abode!”

“Now, how and why?” Bucky groaned. But his actions contradict his words as he went to give Steve a hug, covered in flour and all.

“Hey, Clint,” you mumbled, purposely ignoring the super soldier side-eyeing you. “Care to tell us what you’re doing here?

Clint returned your warm smile, “See, Cap? They’re safe. Can we go now?”

Steve rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest in a rather demanding way. “We’re here to take them home, Clint.”

Bucky scoffs.

“Eh, you might be. But I’m here to soak up some of this Spanish sun.” A low grunt sounded in the back of Clint’s throat as he spoke. He was already making his way to pick at the mashed ingredients. 

“You heard the man, pal,” Bucky slaps Steve’s shoulder, leaving him at the door as well. Awkwardly left alone, you blow a small raspberry and step aside to let Steve in. Bucky continues, “We’re here to soak up some sun. And I’m not done soakin’.”

With great protest, Steve maneuvers Bucky away from the kitchen and into the hallway beside the master bedroom. With both super soldiers out of the way, you finally go to help Peter with mixing. “Why did he come, really?”

Clint shrugs, arms deep inside your cabinets and collecting whatever desserts you had pre-packaged. “Honestly? I think he missed you guys.”

“All this drama because he misses Bucky? He could have just shown up declaring truce and had a nice little vacation,” you mumbled, glaring at Steve from behind. 

“Think he felt like he needed an excuse to even show up. But they really are asking for you guys back home. Threatened to arrest your ass.”

“Lucky me.”

You could make out snippets of their tiny argument up ahead. 

‘You could have called.’

‘You haven’t been answering the phone, Buck.’

‘I’ve been relaxing.’

A heavy sigh. 

‘I just thought we told each other everything.’

‘Believe it or not, Steve… but I’ve got more friends now. Isn’t that what you wanted? I’m not trying to ignore you, I - I just needed to help another friend out this time.’

Peter, with great care, washes his hands and makes sure there aren't any random mashes of banana on his clothing before he side-steps you and Clint to interrupt the very ‘private’ conversation between the super soldiers. “Hey, Mr. Steve- Cap, hey.”

Steve immediately lets his hard gaze falter. “Hey, kid. You doin’ good?”

Peter nods in response. 

“He’s doing great! Much needed vacation that still isn’t over.”

“Buck.”

Inserting yourself may not have been the best option. “Give it up, Rogers. We’re on vacation. And until the kid says he’s ready to go home, we go home.”

Peter fumbles, “Oh, please don’t put me on the spot like that. I’m not good with confrontation.”

Bucky quickly answers before Steve can, “It’s not confrontation, Peter. We love being out here and if it’s helping your mental health, we’re not going to take that away from you.”

Steve blinks and his expression looks like one of hurt. “You think I wanna do that? The literal president has been asking for your location. You’re not allowed to leave the country.”

You shrug, “Well, no one told me that.”

“Buck, you were just granted immunity three months ago. And you go and drop off the face of the earth?”

“I’m literally in Spain.”

Steve blinks again. He really can’t believe he’s got to deal with two people with similar personalities. “Your point?”

“On Earth…?”

Clint decides to make his presence known. He has even inserted the poured batter into the glass tray for you guys. “Why don’t we just stay with ‘em, Cap? God knows you need a vacation, too.”

“We have two rooms. You’d be bunking on the floor,” you say, pointing to random areas on the floor.

Clint waves his hand in the air, “Not the worst place I’ve slept in.”

“I’m being hounded day and night to bring you three home.” Steve looks about ready to burst into tears of frustration.

��Turn off your phone?”

Steve whips his head and stomps to close the few feet of distance between the two of you. “You really think it’s that easy? You really think I wasn’t worried when my two best friends just disappeared one night and didn’t tell me?”

Two.

Best. 

Friends. 

Before you could even comment, Bucky puts on the dramatics.  “We ran away together, Stevie. We meant to tell you.”

Steve takes a moment, just staring at the ceiling and piecing together his thoughts. “Joke all you want, Buck. I’m bringing you home.”

“Ste-”

“No!” He’s stomping back to the front door now. “I’ve had enough! I can’t stand not knowing where you guys are all day when bad things keep happening in this world. Just… just come home.”

All is quiet besides the quiet munching of Clint and his rogue cookie. Steve’s face did this thing when he was at war with himself, anxiety crawling up his arms or panic weighing his empty stomach down. His face drained color and that perfect renaissance oil lost its blush, blended paint that turned a murky gray. A masterpiece lost in storage.

“I can take the couch,” you whisper, arms erupting in goosebumps. “You guys can stay the night and we’ll go home tomorrow, okay? Or somewhere pre-approved, I guess.”

Bucky didn’t argue. Neither did Peter. 

Steve's imaginary painter adds the softest pink back to Steve’s cheeks as you compile a mess of blankets and pillows for him.

Present Day, 2025, 7:15 am

     There’s a warmth near you as you begin to lazily shuffle against the sheets, heavy on your chest but comfortable all in all. 

There are no worries, no sudden bursts of Avenger business, no fights needing to be fought. Simply Steve warm against you with sunlight draping over his bare and freckled shoulders. 

The serum enhanced for the sole purpose of strength and survival. And sure, it healed the body quicker than the average human body could naturally, but the one thing it couldn’t do was strip personality. 

Steve had freckles splattered along his broad shoulders and down to in between his shoulder blades, light in color and all similar in size. Something a lot of people hated about themselves and tried to cover up while others tried to mimic. The serum was supposed to heal damaged skin, sunburnt areas, birthmarks, and even moles - at least, that’s what the official 1943 report had claimed. 

But over the years, Steve had continued to age and grow into his new body. And while he couldn’t get dangerously sick anymore, anything unknown could still occur. No one had the same serum as Steve and last Tony had heard, Peggy had spilled the last remnants of Steve’s original DNA (blood they took before the procedure) in the Hudson. Bucky seemed to be experiencing the same natural changes as well. 

It had been proven that neither Steve nor Bucky could carry or transmit diseases, experience abnormal cell production, nor could they develop a lifelong ailment without severe reason. 

So imagine everyone’s surprise when Clint called one morning while deep in a routine mission (somewhere in Africa, you really don’t remember) to relay the news that, ‘you guys aren’t gonna fucking believe this - yeah Rogers, I’m telling them the hilarious news right now - Steve’s appendix just up and exploded last night - hey! He just stole - hold on. Give me back my hearing aid, you abelist fuck!’. 

Steve had stretch marks on his back from the procedure, his elbow still hurt from time to time after he had snapped it a year ago, and the white scar above his right hip reminded him that even super soldiers are not exempt from the wonders of the appendix. 

His breathing was slow and his eyelids flickered. Seemed he was enjoying his first deep sleep in a while. You craned your neck to try and read the cable box across the room, slightly making out a seven in the front before you gave up. You were due for your annual eye appointment, anyway. 

Steve did have perfect eyesight though, so damn him.

You shrugged the sheets from your arms. He was on his stomach, cheek planted on your chest and right foot dangling off the side of the bed. His left arm was draped over your middle and his right was tucked inside a pillowcase. His hair draped over his forehead and some of it was still tucked behind his ears. 

Careful to not wake him, you gently traced the ridge of his nose with your index finger, resting it on the tip that always turned bright pink regardless of mood. Once at the end, you went back up to trace it again. 

“Beak,” you whispered more to yourself, and you bit your lip to suppress the overwhelming urge to giggle. 

Steve was here, next to and near you, and he was so warm. 

You could have stayed in bed for hours, sleeping and cuddling and fucking, and you would bet your left kidney that Steve wanted that too. It was impossible to question it, it had to be, because Steve was too genuine. You had met hundreds of men in your life: some the literal devil, some cowards, some reserved, and rarely, some genuine at heart. Steve fit some category that didn’t even exist. 

You wanted to love him and hate him. You wanted to make love and fuck him. You wanted to kiss him and annoy him. He checked a box that didn’t exist but that you would just have to reserve for him. The annoying little shit who could lift Thor’s hammer. 

The door almost ripped off its hinges by the brute force of someone’s leg. You didn’t even fully register being crushed by Steve until his elbow stabbed you right in the gut. 

“Rogers!” you groaned in pain and half trying to reach for your pistol on the bedside table. 

There was a collective gasp of surprise (and maybe terror) from the people that just broke down your door. After yesterday’s unplanned run-in with Ramirez, no doubt this was called-for.

“Oh, hell…” Sam grumbled, lowering his gun the second he realized two of his friends were sharing one bed. “Lemme guess, the other bed’s mattress was too firm but this one’s just right.”

Bucky stood behind him, a knowing smirk plastered on his smug face. He looked between you and Steve, ignoring the way Scott was practically pulling his shoulder down in pure fits of laughter. Didn’t take much for Scott to tip himself over and almost drag Bucky down with him. 

“Couldn’t you knock?” Steve nearly yelled, body still trying to shield yours even though you were fully dressed. You were struggling to push him away in pure embarrassment, but he seemed intent with this form of protection. 

“You weren’t answering your phone! We changed our check-in times to seven instead of eight, remember?”

Steve, ever the gentleman, brought the sheets up higher for you and finally lifted himself out of bed. 

And Bucky, ever the gentleman who has been spending way too much time with Clint, nodded his head toward you. “You two fuck?”

Mouth dropping in humiliation, you pulled the sheets up over your head and screamed into the temporary cover. Steve sputtered over whatever explanation he was thinking of pulling out of his ass. 

“You two fucked,” Bucky smugly confirmed. 

Steve pulled on the nearest shirt and went to kick Scott, who was ‘criss-cross apple-sauced’ on the floor and laughing way too loudly. “Is it really any of your business?”

“Man, that’s an answer!” Sam was about to fall into the same fit as Scott. 

Annoyed, and fueled by that annoyance, you ripped the sheets off and marched for the bathroom. “You really want to know, you nosy little fucks? We did fuck and he made me come three times. Ask him how, I’m sure he’ll teach you a thing or two, no matter how embarrassed he may seem right now.”

You left him alone. You literally just exposed him and you left him alone with the wolves. 

All was quiet until Sam blew a small raspberry. “Three times?”

     Bucky didn’t need to speak to show he was about to tease the hell out of you. He simply sipped his coffee until he emptied it, and then refilled it. You couldn’t even finish a single mug yet because you were waiting to break the tension. 

Looking around the hotel bar because he still valued your privacy, Bucky made sure to keep his voice low. “Three times?”

Half wanting to slap the smirk off his face and the other half wanting to announce Steve’s naughty accomplishment, you settled for pouring more coffee into your mug. 

“Don’t you dare hold what I said against me, I literally had just woken up.”

“Mm, yeah. I remember how you literally moaned Thor’s name when you were startled awake from a nap in the living room.”

“Bucky!” you yelled, turning your shoulders inwards when you received a few odd looks from other early risers. Well, some were early risers. The person closest to the door was an agent, as was the other eating breakfast at the bar. “You promised you would never mention that again!”

He shook his head with amusement, “I can’t believe you swore me to secrecy when Loki basically told everyone.”

“He-!” Choking on your own spit, you slid lower into your booth. “That mischievous, conniving, son of a bitch.”

“In all honesty, I think that was his way of flirting with you.”

“Telling everyone I had a wet dream about his brother?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be the first.”

You smirked, “Oh, trust me. I know.”

Bucky squinted, guilty in his spoken words. “All I’m saying is, it’s nice that you didn’t just write Steve off with us, as if nothing happened.”

It made your heart swell that even in a moment with you, Bucky would still always protect Steve. 

“I would never. We actually talked last night and he really apologized.”

“Really?” His eyes were hopeful. 

“He did. And as cliche as it sounds, one thing led to another.”

You realized your earlier words were contradictory when Bucky sighed sadly, “This better not have been a one time thing. I’ll strangle you both.”

You scoffed and finally took a piece of that blueberry muffin on your plate. “Screw you, Barnes. It’s Steve we’re talking about. I’d give him the world if I could.”

That made Bucky blush. “God, I’m stupidly happy for him. I always said he’d need to find a dame who had as big of a mouth as he does.”

Rolling your eyes, you offered him some of that muffin. He gladly broke off a piece. “Don’t go marrying us off just yet.”

“Doll, he almost imploded when we discovered you slept together. Teasing him about proposing might just kill him.”

You laughed at that. Although Steve had admitted he regretted the time you lost, there wasn’t any chance he would push you any further. He was probably comfortable with taking things slow, no matter the history. You had that in common. 

“Seems we’re all just gonna have to make sure we don’t cause his demise.”

Smiling as he chewed, Bucky played with your feet under the table. Safe moments like these always occurred before a mission, no matter how simple or heavy they were. And like people love to say, you never fought with each other before. Just in case. 

Going to bed angry was another thing entirely. That, the whole team was proficient in. 

“You ready for tonight?”

Yesterday had definitely turned you against the very concept of family reunions, what with the small ache between your shoulders. You were angry with Seda, with Ernesto, disappointed with Ramirez, and neutral toward your sister. 

God, your sister. This would be the first time since you left Mexico for school and SHIELD that you would be seeing her, as well as your other siblings. Jackeline was perhaps the only sibling you had some real memories with. Everyone else was already deep in the business or far away from the chaos. The team only knew of two other siblings who rsvp’d. The others: radio silence. 

“Part of me just wants a normal family wedding. I’m kinda hoping we can just end it all tonight.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Bucky chuckled, finishing off your muffin for you. “You’ll get some closure soon enough.”

There was no such thing as closure. Just less of a constant sting. 

“Bucky,” you spoke seriously now. “My father made Steve sign something yesterday.”

“He told us at the debrief yesterday.”

“When did you have a debrief?”

Bucky scooted in his booth, quickly explaining. “Uh well, it wasn’t so much of a debrief as it was a simple overview. Just a heads up.”

You tilted your head, somewhat unconvinced. “Uh-huh… but we could void it, right? He had a fucking notary there and everything.”

“We can declare it void, yeah Y/N,” he grabbed your hand over the table. “He won’t get tangled in this.”

With a heavy sigh, you gripped Bucky’s hand tighter. “I’m really glad you guys are gonna help us.”

He returned your smile. “Anything for family.”

Family. 

After all these years of self-hatred and despising your own blood, you blinded yourself of the simple truth that you already had a real family. Whether you were accepted after Sokovia, or after you helped Steve escape with Bucky, or after those long five years, you were accepted. And you accepted them right back. 

    The briefing goes as expected. Didn’t seem like anyone was going to live down the now obvious fact that you and Steve had slept together after years of unnoticed pining. You simply took the teasing in stride, better than Steve even, who stuffed his face full of chips in embarrassment.

The plan was simple but ever-evolving. The three of them will hang back: Bucky at the hotel, Scott and Sam at the nearby base with Torres. The base was fifteen minutes from the estate, hidden behind those same pine trees but the perfect cover - it was a nearby diner. Steve will still take the shield, FRIDAY was installed on your personal phones, and any weapons you attached to your person were specifically made to deter metal detectors. Once in, it was mingle, mingle, mingle.

There were going to be a thousand questions to answer: What in the world is Captain America doing here? Is he here to cause trouble? Are you two seriously dating? So, Captain America being one of us means holding Thor’s hammer was a myth, aye?

Then you would move on to the more important guests. Jackeline’s greeting would be more of a reunion. But flying under and over the radar had to walk the same line - you needed to mix in with the crowd and make sure they see you participating, but then escape for a little while to continue the mission.

Once in, the task was to electronically and physically retrieve everything Scott didn’t have time to yesterday, plus the new information Ernesto got for today and tomorrow. His latest emails, list of contacts, checks, birth certificates, video evidence.

“Do we all know our duties?”

You wanted to wrap up Steve’s commanding voice and keep it a special secret, a secret that was yours and the team’s to share.

“We got it, Cap. For the tenth time this week - you two okay?”

Sam was rewarded with a slanted smile. “Everytime you ask me that, I’ll lie.”

He nods, “At least you admit it. You’re not alone in this.”

“For years,” you continued, “It’s been that way. I guess I’m both ready for it to end and not. I want them behind bars. I don’t want the repercussions.”

“Makes sense,” Bucky agrees. “At least part of the fight will be over.”

Beside you, Steve clenches his jaw. “We’re always fighting.”

Bucky grins at him, “Yeah.” There’s a sparkle in his eye as he leans forward to squeeze Steve’s thigh. “At least it’s not with each other anymore.”

     They weren’t lying when they said vibranium was lightweight. Felt different from nano-tech and was an obvious change from your regular body suit. You felt protected and stylish. Good, because even though you weren’t obligated to impress those vultures, there were still a few cousins and extended family members you wanted compliments from. And?

The black turtleneck was warmer than you expected and didn’t strangle you. You were a bundle of velvet bliss right now. The cuffs were a golden brown, completely made from vibranium. Modeling in the mirror, you whispered a few ‘pew-pew’s as you blocked pretend bullets. C’mon, golden bracelets? You were basically Wonder Woman. 

The tights were your own, thin and black and you could still see there were faint bruises on your knees from training. Once all that was situated, you pulled on the long skirt and tucked in the bottom of your shirt, glad the way the high-waisted design sucked everything in. The skirt was the same golden brown as the cuffs, shorter in the front and wavy as it draped down the back, barely reaching your ankles. You tied the skirt’s belt in a tight bow and pulled on the black boots Shuri had also sent you. The heel was thick and short, and the boot was pretty tight around the top of your ankle. 

Time was ticking on that well-deserved goody basket you were meaning to send to the royal siblings. 

Hoop earrings, three rings dressing your left hand, a simple golden necklace - now you need to do your hair and make-up. 

Steve was just patiently waiting for his turn in the bathroom, bless his heart. 

     “Scott said the files are in his personal belongings. We suspect he’s planning to smuggle over fifty people tomorrow. Their records should be hidden away in those belongings, too.” 

Sam always kept a leveled head in dire situations like these. He was rational and helpful, always waited until the job was done and everyone was safe before he had a drink or a cry. It was safest, perhaps the most fair thing the Avengers could do for the public after destroying half the cities they fought in. The media didn’t need to know about the late-night fights, alcohol poisoning, or frequent therapy sessions. Your coping methods were all different - Steve has no doubt Sam will immediately pack an overnight bag and Bucky to visit his sister and nephews once the wedding concluded. 

Steve? Well, Steve was surprisingly calm, all things considered. 

“You get any hits yet? Anything from Ramirez that could help us find those people sooner?”

Sam sighs sadly, shaking his head. “It’s looking like we’re heading into a full-on fight.”

That’s not what Steve wanted to hear. A ‘full-on’ fight almost always had accidents, misfires, innocent casualties, and a few cuts and scrapes to add to his own personal collection. 

“Sam,” Steve puts down the files in his hand and shuts off his monitor to signal he’s done researching for the night. “I really don’t know how to thank you.”

“You know,” Sam smiles at him, “I’m gettin’ real tired hearin’ you say that.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. Sam gently exhales - Steve can feel it. 

“You two really are the same.” Sam points at Steve and to the bathroom door. “Always apologizing for shit you can’t control.”

Steve looks down to his feet, a blush in his pale cheeks. After failing to clip his cufflinks on his own, he holds his arms out to Sam who happily clips them for him. 

“Is it real?”

Steve pauses. He doesn’t really need to think about it because he knows. He’s known for a while even if he was on autopilot. The pause only serves to help him catch his breath from the happy prickle that crawls up his spine. “As real as second chances go.”

Sam laughs and claps his shoulder, “I get it. We seem to get a hell of a lotta those.”

      Now that the mission was truly kicking into gear, fucking full speed ahead, Steve had no other choice but to pull shreds of Captain America from that metaphorical attic of his. Took everything in him to revert back, never fully, and each time would be different from the last. Sometimes it was mentally draining being responsible for a whole team and creating the plans, other times he regretfully felt like a colonizer, an intruder who followed orders from the top and was forced to execute them. This time around, he was stepping into uncharted territory, but still familiar, and he had a million roles to mime. 

“Steeeve.”

His smile was instant and he gravitated to your voice. “Hmm?”

“So, I have an idea for a hairstyle,” you reply, throwing open the bathroom door with a brush in one hand and the other holding the top layers of your hair up. “I got enough hair for it.”

“Tell me about it. It gets in the way of everything.”

“Haha.” You rolled your eyes, still trying to shovel more hair higher. “I curled it, so all I gotta do is tug this upper half up into a ponytail while the rest stays down. But can you help? My shoulders still hurt and I haven’t taken my advil yet.”

Steve shuffles back into the room to grab you two pills before he replaces his hands with yours. “So, just lift it up?”

You hum confirmation, watching Steve in the mirror as he pulled your thick curls higher, snapped the hair tie between his teeth, and tied it all. He pulled the strands outward so the high curls still fell around your face. The hairstyle would have been easier with extensions (for a much fuller look) but if you had to throw your body around these next two days, you’d rather save yourself the embarrassment of having them pulled off. 

“Thank you,” you blush. These moments were so intimate, so sweet, just you and Steve. “You need any help?”

Steve looks down at himself. He had already tied his own tie. He could style his own hair and comb his beard. “I think I’m good. Forgot to pack cologne, though.”

“I’ve got some perfume in my suitcase. There should be one in there that isn’t too flowery.”

Steve rolls his eyes and turns to leave. “Not really a problem, doll.”

Pulling on his suit jacket and reaching for your suitcase to set it on the bed, he miscalculated the balance he was so obviously lacking. Instead of toppling head first himself, he fumbles your suitcase and spills its contents on your bed. He stills for a second, looking to the closed bathroom door to see if you popped your head through to ask what the hell that sound was. But it remained closed, and Steve silently groaned because of his clumsiness. 

He tries his best to roll the clothing items back in, cursing whenever he would accidentally squeeze a perfume bottle you had hidden in there. He counted three. The one he picks smells like roses.

Amongst the ruins he finds your passport, multiple IDs, and two pairs of sunglasses. He chuckles to himself and thinks, we’ve been here for four days and she hasn’t worn these once.

A torn piece of paper stood out from the pile, folded neatly in its own envelope but still damaged. 

     CLINT

Curious, Steve opens the envelope, wholeheartedly expecting to find the written contents from the archer himself, but pauses when he reads the simple sentence, in your handwriting. 

‘After careful deliberation, I have come to the conclusion that I want you to have all my video games.’

If Steve didn’t know any better, and judging by the multiple other letters peeking through the torn tape from the corner of your suitcase, it sounded like a goodbye letter.

“What’s taking so long?”

Startled, Steve shoves the letter under the pile of clothes. “Uh, my clumsy ass spilled your clothes everywhere so I’m being good and fixing everything.”

“...annoying.”

Still, you stayed inside the bathroom.

He glanced back just to make sure. And he knew he shouldn’t be snooping, the guilt was already eating away at him, but he now noticed the lump under the torn tape and another envelope poking through. 

They were all signed for different people. Bucky, Wanda, Peter, Rhodey - 

The devil on his shoulder drowned the cries of the angel. 

Opening his, he prays for his quick reading skills to aid him before you realized what he was doing.       

Steve, 

     Believe when I say that I thought I would put a bullet in my father before he could. Whoops…

I don’t really know why I’m writing these letters besides the thrill of morbidity for my untimely death or because I’m an amateur writer on the side. I never know what to say to you, anyway. Whether it’s in person or on paper. I’ve got a hundred drawn-up speeches in my head I almost say to you. But they don’t come out when I want them to and it seems a bit much to write out the words to several imaginary crumpled pieces of paper. 

This will have to do. 

Steve, I know for a fact, deep in whatever soul I have left, that you are a good man. 

When the world fell apart, I held on to you. I don’t know why. Natasha bugged me about it, sent me those signature smirks of hers whenever we did anything remotely weird. She believed something was going on between us and I would get so angry with her because it was like she saw something I couldn’t. And I wanted to see it. Wrap it up for myself and live in the softness.

You slept by my side when I would ask, you let me look through your private sketchbook to help ease my mind, and you would jump at every chance to shield me from danger. Even when you know I can take care of myself. I don't know how many times I have to remind you. 

I don’t understand why you shut me out after we brought our friends back. And at the time, it hurt like hell. I literally wanted to kill you and then myself. It made no sense, it still doesn’t. I won’t lie and say it still surprises me or that it no longer hurts. ‘Cause I’m numb to it now and the pain is more of a dull ache. 

But I guess you had your reasons, no matter how hurtful, how ridiculous, no matter how stupid. 

Fuck, why didn’t you get some of that life Tony had always wanted for you? The question eats me alive. Maybe you did move on, maybe you would miss us too much, I truly don’t know. When you confessed to wanting some form of that life when we rescued Wanda, it just confused me more.

Then my father basically declared war and you cut me out. I can’t help but think you stayed behind to help me finish this, what with that righteous streak of yours, but if it is the case, then I am so sorry. 

You deserve to live, Steve. 

Guess what I really want to close with is this: find that life you always wanted. Buy a boat, or a cabin in the secluded woods and become a lumberjack, travel, open your own art museum - hell, erase all traces of your identity and sell painted landscapes for a living. 

In any form you find it, just try. You know I’m always rooting for you, and I’m always by your side. No matter how annoying and smart-mouthed you may be. 

There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than here, there, and everywhere with you. 

With as much love in me, 

    The swirl of your name leaves him disoriented, and slightly paralyzed. Steve licks the envelope closed.    

     Steve puts the very existence and contents of your letter to the back of his mind for the time being. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, no time to dissect it word for word. He’ll focus on it later. He still doesn’t know what reaction he should be experiencing. The letter was unexpected, yes, but it’s the matter of you writing a goodbye letter - as if you weren’t going to make it out of here alive. And that about saws Steve in two. 

Steve thinks the elevator comes too fast and wonders what he could do to stop time. The mics on your neck generate enough noise for you to hear the static on the other end. No one is currently online, and Steve cherishes the little moments he’s getting before having to transition into ‘Captain America’ mode. 

There wasn’t much time today to truly bask in the afterglow. The moment the elevator opens Steve literally drags you inside and captures your lips in a rather chaste kiss. It surprises you momentarily but you’re responding, and it’s fluid and familiar. The kiss is brief, but it feels as if your years mold into this single act, and Steve’s smiling wider than he has today when the first thing you say as you part is that maybe you chose the wrong shade of lipstick because it looks too damn dark on his lips.

The elevator reaches the ground floor and he looks over at you one last time in the privacy you’re afforded. He’s got that good ache in his chest again and it’s both calming and a little bittersweet, because staring at you is like staring at the sun - it hurts to look at for a long time but oh, so tempting. 

   The lawn was separated into two halves with only one fully decorated and the other still under a tarp, hidden because it was mid-construction and to not spoil the surprise. Over to the side, just left of the large lake, there was an extra tarp the workers were manning in case the clouds in the sky decided to cry. 

Jackeline had chosen violet as her main color scheme, with golden hues stitched alongside. The flowers, soft lights, marble floor, and desserts were all violet; the curtains and tarps, plates and glasses, flowers on the wall, and Jackeline’s rehearsal dress were all gold. Ernesto must have spent over a million dollars in the decorations alone. 

Everyone donned their best designers and since only family was in attendance today, the little amount of people were easily outdone one right after the other. In total, there were fifteen guests, and that included you and Steve: Ernesto, Seda, the groom’s father, Jackeline’s mother, two of your half-brothers, three aunts (sister’s of Ernesto), two cousins, the maid of honor, and Marcus White. 

They have already fawned over Steve, some with a major guard up as expected, but as Ernesto explains the specifics, everyone becomes more pleased than weary. ‘It was just too good to be true that the Avengers were all good’, someone announces. Steve grips your hand just a little tighter. 

The mere absence of Ramirez was enough of an answer: he really was going to be eliminated.

Across from your private corner, cheers and claps sound as the happy couple finally emerges. Even your father leaves mid-conversation to go greet her. 

She’s a fifties masterpiece. Her dark hair cascades in uneven but gentle layers, framing her face and she’s both glossy and matte. Her skin is darker and her eyebrows are fuller, widow’ peak and strong jaw, thin neck and perfectly rounded shoulders. She has a painted blush on her high cheekbones, dark eyeshadow and a faint cat eye, and the reddest, fullest lips that are already spitting wit as she greets her more serious guests. Her voice is high but steady and she’s so obviously the center of attention, she’s the literal bride, but you bet she could take over the room even if she wasn’t. Her fiancé, surprisingly enough, trails behind her as if he too is in a trance, greeting the same guests and attempting to match her enthusiasm. She’s making herself known, and she’s succeeding.

It isn’t until she locks her sight on you that Steve finally mumbles a quiet ‘woah’ underneath a shaky breath and you can’t blame him, dear god you can’t, because seeing her for the first time in six years is eating away at you. She’s nineteen, young and sweet, and still trapped in the world you were planning to destroy.   

Her first reaction is to run into your arms and hold you tightly, the force swinging you from side to side. Her giggles are contagious and you find yourself reacting similarly, grip tightening as she begins to ramble about how much she missed you and how proud she is that you have saved the world ten times over. The statement is overwhelming, but you find yourself nodding along in place of anything verbal.

Steve is patient as he witnesses this family reunion, standing at your side with respect and a tint of scarlet staining his cheeks. Finally, Jackeline turns to greet him and for a scary second, Steve sees Peggy.

“No way!” She keeps her voice low. “I could have sworn my bit-... uh, my bunch of tias were lying about you really being here.”

Steve shakes the fifties image from his head. The resemblance, even if Jackeline has more slanted eyes and a larger forehead, is uncanny. “Thank you so much for inviting us. The ride up was a bitch but we made the most of it.”

Jackeline stutters over her own laugh. “Oh.” She looks to you with a wide grin. “Oh, he’s a keeper.”

“Thought so myself,” you grin back. “You should hear him swear during a football game.”

“All men turn into animals when their teams don’t live up to expectations.”

Her accent is thicker than yours. Living in New York for over 10 years definitely helped smooth over some dialect and create your own voice. But Jackeline’s, considering she had never lived outside of Mexico, was thick and silky and resembled a place you no longer called home.

She pulls the man behind her forward, effectively interrupting and ending the conversation he was having with one of your cousins. “This is Julian. Julian, this is my one and only sister and her boyfriend!”

Julian, bless his heart, holds out a slightly shaking hand for you to shake. You do so, and try to convey calmness through it. When you watch his glance fall to Steve and feel his hand start to shake yours more rapidly, you can’t help but stifle a laugh.

“It’s an honor!” Julian finally says, voice deep and wracked with some nerves. He shakes Steve’s hand when he gets the chance. “Captain.”

“Please,” Jackeline rolls her eyes. “He’s just like us! You should be swooning over my sister, who is probably going to be the one to kill you if you ever hurt me.”

Julian blinks. His eyes go from Steve to you, contemplating his next move without wanting to seem rude. He nods in your direction. “I don’t doubt you would. Excuse me if I came off as rude. I’m just starstruck by this one here, is all.”

His accent matches Jackeline’s.

Steve waves his hand through the air. “You are not the first tonight, son.”

Sometimes you forget that Steve is an old man. Biologically, he’s in his mid-thirties. Ever changing and growing old as normal, but his soul is old. From a different time and out of it. The mere nickname he just gave Julian, no doubt because of his young age, leaves you averting your eyes and turning away to smile up at one of the many golden chandeliers.

“I really hope you enjoy tonight. The party may seem small right now, but trust me, half of Mexico will be dancing with us tomorrow night.” Jackeline bounces in place, hand intertwining with Julian’s, and she leans in to speak more clearly with you. “Meet me later? We have so much to catch up on.”

Agreeing, you watch the happy couple leave to converse with the few other guests.

Steve turns toward you, eyes squinted in amusement. “Is she really cheating on him with a man of the cloth?”

You can’t help the involuntary snort that leaves your nose. “The photos were watermarked, right? Time stamped? Maybe they’re old.”

Steve huffs a laugh and grabs two champagne glasses as the tray flies by him. “She’s got a way about her. Reminds me of a dame from this book I read a while back.”

Sipping your drink, you ponder. “What book?”

“The one where the dude gets shot at the end.”

“Oh, you mean every book from the 20th century?”

Steve laughs, “That twenties one!”

Mouth dropping, you push at his chest and turn to walk away. “You did not just compare her to Daisy from The Great Gatsby!”

Steve follows. “That’s the one! Honest! She has this way about her!”

    It’s not long after a few dances and photographs that you’re all seated for the actual dinner. There are three long tables, two parallel to each other and the main one perpendicular. You don’t know if it’s a power move or whatever, but your name cards are placed on one of the parallel tables. But it doesn’t bother you much since you have a front view of Seda and your father. 

Dinner is a six-course meal. Not that you assumed any different - Ernesto really went all out for his youngest child (that you know of). Your mics are picking up conversations left and right so you’re actually able to enjoy the meal. Salad, soup, a weird looking appetizer that’s actually quite delicious, the main course of either chicken/fish/or steak, and two desserts. All throughout, Steve is actually having the time of his life being fed so well. 

“Answer me this,” Steve leans in to whisper in your ear. “Are those hearts or paper airplanes hanging from the ceiling?”

You smiled against the ridge of your champagne glass, “You mean those clay flowers?”

“Is that what they are?” He pauses for a long second, squinting.

“Are your eyes going bad?” 

“Eyes don’t go bad.”

Your mouth falls open. “Your eyes are going bad!”

“Again,” Steve holds up a finger. “My eyes are just fine, not bad.”

Something else to add to that list you had made in the morning.

“This is fucking fantastic.”

Steve, still trying to casually squint, huffs. “Annoying...”

You bump his shoulder and lean in to whisper quietly. “Turns you on.”

Steve just blushes.

    It’s like he forgets where he is for a second, what with the great food and surprisingly good conversation with one of your brothers beside him. Steve’s already built a much stronger rapport with the thirty-something year old man than you have. There’s a stab of guilt for a second, a need to duck and drown in shame, when you realize you can’t even remember his name.

Ernesto stands to announce toasts. His is brief and not all that fatherly, but it’s the longest you’ve heard him string some nice words together. Seda follows, brief as well, and includes a childhood anecdote about her. Jackeline’s mother is a young woman, somewhere between forty and fifty, and her toast is only a sentence long - ‘Solo quiero que estas contenta, mi amor.’ For the first time tonight, Bucky voices his thoughts over the mic with a quiet and sad sounding hum.

Ernesto lifts himself from his chair, swatting away his men who go to help him. He has the microphone again and he’s walking toward you, face neutral. You know better than to refuse in front of this big of a crowd. Steve squeezes your hand before you stand and he remains beaming up at you from his seat. 

You’ve seen it in the movies - raise the glass, say some words, end it nicely. It’s what you do. But it feels surreal, almost unnerving when you don’t recognize the faces looking back at you. 

     “Here’s to you,” you lift your champagne glass, looking around at the happy yet solemn faces at the small table. 

“You deserve all the happiness available to you. You are so lucky to have each other,” you finish the toast and drink your whole glass. There is no applause, just sad smiles in response. You’re not asking for much, you never had.

Tony and Pepper share a quick kiss, thanking everyone around the table quickly as the two cakes are being cut. Their wedding was limited, with only a few people in attendance. Whoever was left. Tony’s cabin could obviously accommodate more people, but he had only requested the gathering of those he could stomach to see. But when that turned out to only be Pepper and Happy, he was forced to open the doors to more. 

So, you accepted your chocolate cake from Rhodey as he handed it to you. Shared some quick chit-chat with Steve and Natasha; greeted Thor as he made his first appearance in a while, hair now longer and baggy clothes hanging from his body, a tortured smile on his aging face; and sat through Happy’s own speech, enjoying his refreshing and joyful attitude. 

But now you stood in front of the kitchen sink, staring at the hidden picture frame behind the mugs - a reminder of what was really missing from this special day. 

You studied Peter’s awkward smile and demeanor, his expression youthful and frozen in time. He became foggy, silver clouds blotting his cheeks and his hair went white, and soon the sink sounded with a tiny ‘clunk!’ as you wept silently. 

You felt a hand slide into your own, squeezing with care and understanding. You looked up to see Steve, his eyes watching your face. He gave you one more gentle squeeze, the same tortured smile as Thor’s on his beautiful face, and walked to his room to retire for the night. 

     Glass raised in the air, you swallow in hopes of not choking over any word because of your nerves. 

“Here’s to you,” you start, already deciding this was going to be like pulling a band-aid. “May this world treat you kind, and that you are kind to each other, and that it’s all that matters.”

Steve forgets to drink. He can’t seem to shake the feeling of wanting to cry.

     Everyone watches as Steve leads you onto the dance floor which is intimidating with its glittering violet light and marble that resembles polished glass. If these were the decorations for the rehearsal dinner, Steve can’t even begin to bet on how tomorrow’s going to look. 

Steve holds you close, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other framing your spine. It’s like a tight hug. “Do you enjoy dancing?”

You step on his foot once again. “Shut up, Steve. Tell me your real thoughts.”

“Who, me?”

“Steve.”

“You suck at dancing.”

“There it is.”

     It isn’t hard to sneak away once everyone piles onto the dance floor. Steve shares a few dances with your aunts before excusing himself to use the bathroom. 

The mission itself goes rather smoothly. Infiltrating and collecting information was childsplay. Amateur. You’ve done it a thousand times and your father isn’t exactly a tech wizard. Neither is Seda. 

You find the electronic bank records Scott couldn’t yesterday, as well as a detailed spreadsheet (more like a hitlist) dating ten years back. In the same file, this actually only slightly encrypted (slightly), are the names of high-level players involved. It’s color-coded, some names familiar because of their involvement with Hydra, and it’s only a matter of seconds before you notice that red means eliminated, black means still at large, and blue means ally. 

There’s a lump in your throat as you scroll through and find Steve’s name, thankfully in blue. It’s expected, so you simply move on, until you find yours. And it’s in black. 

It should terrify you, have you running for the hills and tucking your tail between your legs but you’re won’t because Steve’s name is blue. 

That’s all that matters. 

There’s still no concrete information about the shipment, nothing online or on a loose post-it note. It’s non-existent and that’s suspicious and you don’t know why you don’t voice that to Steve. He’s listening at the door and responding to Sam’s questions. You and Scott are the hackers of the group after all. 

You scan through drawers and cabinets, snapping photos of things you can’t take just yet and filing the papers you can. Papers detailing contracts and miscellaneous connections: lawyers, doctors, politicians, police. Once that’s done, you shrink the evidence to the size of a fingernail with the help of Scott’s tech and hide it in your bra. 

Surprisingly enough, the two of you are able to slip out of the office and the first couple living rooms undetected. Until Jackeline herself appears, pulling down her dress as she exits the bathroom. Steve, stunned by the presence of anyone, pulls you toward his chest with unfocused strength. You hiss loudly and naturally go to cup your injured elbow. It takes a moment for Steve to realize what he’s done and who he’s done it to. 

Jackeline nearly stumbles over her heels out of pure clumsiness but her mouth parts as she notices you and the harsh sound you make. If she truly saw or heard anything, she’s keeping it to herself it seems. 

“Ernesto wanted to see me before we called it a night,” Steve says, letting go of your arm and taking a step back. He doesn’t outright say he’s sorry; he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to. So he braves a smile, sends you a look, and excuses himself. 

No conversation ever comes naturally - or, rather they take at least minimal effort from either party. You say the first thing you can think of and that’s to congratulate her again. 

Your rambling sort of sounds like the toast you gave earlier, but Jackeline either doesn’t want to embarrass you or simply doesn’t notice. She waits for the pause in your voice before she finally speaks.

“Before I start, don’t hate me for this.”

“That’s not a good way to start a sente-” Your face is smacked to the side absurdly hard and you can feel the sting at the base of your neck. You look back at your sister with wide eyes.

“You couldn’t leave the world dead? He was finally dead!”

Baffled, you rub at your sore cheek. “Why am I the one getting the most blame for that? I followed a fucking raccoon around and I didn’t even snap my fingers!”

“Sorry,” she blinks, eyebrows scrunching as she thinks of the next thing to say. “Sorry, I just… it was that easy to kill him and then he just… wasn’t.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but you were also dead.”

“I was.”

“And we brought back trillions.”

“I know.”

Never once did you wonder what your siblings might have thought. More than half of them were separated from this life, while a few remained and conquered their allowed sectors. Ernesto had never discussed which of his children would take over his seat. But when he was dusted and Seda assumed power, it was clear not one sibling wanted anything to do with it. Or they were just too scared to outright disobey Seda and his tyranny.

Jackeline stands tall, shoulders straight and chin held high. She didn’t seem to worry about the repercussions of her actions - she knows who you are and what you are capable of. The smack seemed deliberate but restrained.

“So?” It’s the only word you can muster up.

“Please don’t judge me.” Her confidence falters and her eyebrows push down even further. “I know you know.”

“You gotta spell it out because I know a lot of things.”

Sighing deeply, she grabs the hand you’re using to rub at your cheek. She grips it tightly as she speaks. “I love him. But he’s impossible to love now and I can’t do anything about it.”

“Oh, Jackeline…”

You could have contacted her. You were on social media - you could have followed her, maybe messaged her annually - hell, called her once in a while to simply check in. The ticket you got was always a temporary one: go to school and find a way to make the trade routes easier to travel. School finished, you found Fury, and you created an alternate identity and background plan to trick your family into doing just what they ordered. And during all that time, Jackeline was barely in her pre-teens, probably scared and alone and missing her only sister. This was just you throwing that smack out of proportion but there was truth in it all. Wasn’t there?

“Julian’s okay. I agreed to this arranged marriage. I’m sure I can grow to love him,” she shrugs, biting her lip as it begins to quiver.

Her eyes are no longer happy - perhaps that was the wrong word to use after she had just confided in you about the reality of her upcoming union. But they definitely seem more dull in comparison to the joyfulness she presented earlier tonight.

“Jackeline, you don’t have to-”

“No, I was gone those five years. He had to move on.” You drop your shoulders and lean forward to give her a hug. No matter how badly you wanted to wrap your hands around Ernesto’s neck, they had more use tenderly wrapped around your sister. 

Relishing the feeling for only a moment longer, Jackeline is ignited once again. “Besides, I should be telling you that! I saw the way that… that fascist pulled you. If he’s hurting you, I’ll kill him.”

Your eyes must be bulging out of your head. “Oh.” 

She looks at you as if you’re going to admit abuse and confide in her like she did you. “No, it’s okay. Steve’s perfect, he’s… wonderful.”

Jackeline shakes her head rapidly, “Don’t you lie to me. I know what I saw.”

“I’m not lying. But you gotta trust me. I’ll explain later-”

“Explain what?”

Seda breaks the conversation and you forget to curse inwardly. Instead, a mumbled ‘fuck’ is heard. It only serves to fuel the flame. Jackeline flashes a rehearsed smile, and she truly is your sister because for a sad moment she looks exactly like you.

“Explain why she never returned my calls to be my maid of honor! I swear, this one is always so busy she forgets I exist!”

“She is,” Seda agrees, grinning like he already knows what the original conversation was about. “Always busy.” 

Jackeline keeps the same smile and is about to continue fanning the flames when Seda interrupts again. “Jackie, your father wanted me to speak with your sister alone for a moment. It has to do with tomorrow’s shipment.”

“Yes, of course. Don’t keep her for too long, okay? Tomorrow’s a late start but we all need our beauty sleep.” Jackeline leaves and fails to look over her shoulder to double check on you.

Seda steps closer, arms swinging casually like he’s pondering the possibilities of what he could do without Steve present. But instead of focusing solely on him, you listen to the soft sound of Bucky’s voice through the mic as he tells you that he’s listening in and he’s here.

“What did she say to you?”

“Is it really any of your business?”

He snaps immediately, gripping your cheeks in one hand so you can’t move your head. “When will you learn to keep your goddamn mouth shut around me?”

“You asked.” Smacking his hand away would have been frowned upon before, but not anymore. Free reign if need be. “Besides, when will you learn that that will never happen?”

“You can’t believe anything she tells you. Ernesto’s only two daughters are mistakes, both threats to his reign. Never submissive, always asking questions-”

You grunt almost comically, “Men and their irrational fears of women… What did I ever do to you?”

He pauses and you notice how his angry eyes always seem to water from his frustration. “You brought him back.”

“I also brought back trillions.”

“You know,” his face does something unpleasant. “Before Jackeline was dusted, she had been seeing that priest.”

“How could you possibly know-”

“He was so devastated by her loss. Found God, became a changed man.”

“Seda, what are you playing at?”

“She came back.” He lifts one finger. “He couldn’t resist.” He raises another. “Didn’t take long for Ernesto to find out.” The third one is the last, and he mimics a small explosion as he concludes. “But don’t worry, we took care of him.”

You never once believed the Devil was this angry, red demon with horns atop his head and a sharp tail, voice booming as he ruled the underworld with the weapons of pain and suffering. He didn’t possess or haunt random places. If anything, the Devil himself was simply a metaphor, a representation of the evil in a living world. It only made people comfortable to create an image, no matter how ridiculous.

Once you even thought the Devil was Hades, and he wasn’t all that bad when it truly came down to the root of all problems. He oversaw the underworld but he didn’t take life, he didn’t cause the pain, he simply watched and ruled. That maybe Hades was real considering Thor was, and he was just chilling in the underworld bored out of his mind.

But the evil the Devil represented was a constant in this world already, in your life from start to finish, and Seda’s eyes held something unspeakable. Dark brown eyes almost black, left cheek twitching with the urge to smile grotesquely, the tense nature of his broad shoulders. He was no massive man, a few inches taller than you, but he was a giant in a world in which Hades lacked and the Devil persisted.

“But Julian-”

Seda scoffs, “Julian was her rebound. Got mixed up in the business, with Ernesto  - but I don’t doubt he loves Jackeline.”

You’re this close to breaking the man’s fingers. He doesn’t stop counting his supposed triumphs. “When were the pictures taken?”

“Don’t do that,” he laughs as he finally steps away from you. “Ask your real question.”

Your smile was involuntary. So was Seda’s. It was the one thing you had in common: smiling at things that weren’t funny. “Did you threaten him? Torture him? Kill him yet?”

“... Jackeline will never know.”

Your mouth parts slowly like you’re still digesting his words. “You unimaginable bastard.”

If you had to bet, you would have placed all your money on Ernesto being the giant to fear. He had hurt you in countless ways, used you and discarded what he didn’t like, put you in the line of fire for his own gain. He had taken pleasure in knowing you hurt, in knowing what you had lost and suffered. He mocked your sacrifice time and time again. And there was a sentence you had never uttered out loud for fear of what you might do, or what anyone hearing you might do, that Ernesto had said one chilly November night only a year after the world returned. It was a thought so suppressed you almost always forgot it had been real. ‘A shame the Widow did what she did - what an unbelievable asset wasted over something pointless.’

No one outside your circle could possibly understand. They didn’t have to - but to dismiss the main reason he was retaking his tainted throne... insanity. 

But something in Seda’s voice moved even the most dormant areas in your soul. The giant was a man with nothing and everything to lose but with the power to choose which. Staring at him for too long prompted an uncomfortable sting across your waterline like his glare burned. Such a normal looking man with short dark hair and an aging face. He stared at you with a set look, one that told you he knew something you didn’t. Like he controlled giants even bigger than him. He wasn’t Hades, who restrained himself and hid in the shadows of a world he was forced to rule - he was the Devil’s metaphor, with red strains licking his tan skin and eyes sharp enough to puncture.

With a small tilt of his head and a strangled grin, he finally turns to leave. “Have a safe drive home.”

     After saying a quick goodbye to Jackeline and securing the estate, you hurried to get to your car and leave. Ernesto had just sent you a quick nod of the head and reminded Steve he needed to see him again before the wedding started. All your leftover energy literally went into pulling open the passenger door. 

Out of instinct now, you wait until the car is past the gates and a good mile from the hidden entrance before speaking freely.

“We get everything?”

The night is dark and you can barely see the outline of the trees. The sky is covered with gray clouds and there are no lampposts to provide light. It’s really just your headlights. “I think so. I think.”

Steve can sense the hesitancy in your answer. “What’s wrong?”

You shake with an exaggerated shiver, “Seda was being creepy… just more than usual.”

“What do you mean?” Steve was probably communicating and online with Sam during his conversation with Ernesto and completely missed the one you had with Seda.

“Fuckin’ didn’t think it could get weirder, but Jackeline mentioned how this was basically an arranged marriage and then Seda,” you stop suddenly. The uneasiness was creeping back. 

“An arranged marriage? Fuck, what else is this mission going to throw at us?”

‘Captain?’

Steve’s hands accidentally swerve the steering wheel as response to the small fright. “... Was that your phone or mine?”

You fumbled through your mini purse for your phone. “Me. Hey? Friday?”

‘The one and only. I hope that didn’t frighten you because I really need your attention right about now.’

Steve chuckles, eyes straight ahead as he drives. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

‘My readings are picking up something strange. The vehicle, even if I’m not able to virtually connect, seems to be stalling.’ Torres did curse you two before you left for renting a car made before 2013.

“What do you mean? It’s working just fine.” 

You set your phone down on the dash to start looking around the interior of the car.

‘The pedal, yes Captain. But I’m afraid my readings are focused on the brakes.’

You bite your tongue and scrunch up your nose. What else could possibly happen tonight? “That’s always fun to hear, great. Greaaaat.”

“Friday, what are you picking up?” Steve’s voice is more stern and even if he’s not doing it on purpose, he’s trying to ignore your coping mechanism of joking during dire situations.

‘It seems that when they took the vehicle for parking, they attached something to the brake lines. Sort of like a trigger sensor. Do not slow down.’

“We’re stuck? We can’t stop?”

‘Everytime the Captain de-accelerates, the sensor heats up. That’s what my readings are.’

“Fuck,” you unclipped your seatbelt and turned your body toward Steve. “Fuck!”

“Friday, what do we do?” The least Steve could do is be the level-headed one here.

‘Exactly what you’re thinking, Captain. The shield’s in the trunk.’

“We can’t exactly get to it!” You don’t mean to scream at Friday. You’re sure she’s used to adrenaline induced attacks guided toward her and never about her.

‘The burners were produced by Stark Industries for our very own spy unit. They are equipped with a taser, flashlight, and laser.’

Jumping so your feet were planted firmly on the passenger seat, you make sure everything is in place: the stolen files, your gun, your phone, and earpiece. “Keep your foot on that pedal, Rogers. I don’t feel like blowing up tonight.”

He releases a shaky breath, hands turning pale from the grip he has on the steering wheel. “You and me both.”

“Friday?” Your voice is only slightly timid, but you manage to move your body out from the front seats and to the back.

‘The laser, Agent Y/LN. Cut through the seats.’

Nodding along to her instructions, you search for the burner under your skirt and unstrap it from the holster. Pulling its ancient antenna outward, Friday verbally guides you through the very simple instruction. The laser blasts out unexpectedly at first making you squeal, which in turn causes Friday (a literal AI) to chuckle. You’re thankful the antenna was facing the back seats already.

“Doing good back there?”

You respond with a low grunt as you carefully carve out the largest rectangle you can create. “You better have shoved the thing close. Any stop signs up ahead?”

Steve’s getting worried now, but instead of putting you more on edge, he hides it pretty well. “Thank god this place is in the middle of nowhere.”

You don’t even give his response acknowledgement as you finally pull the leather, metal, and weird cushion filling away and spot the shield. “I got it, got it, got it.”

‘My sensors suggest you’ll have a good five seconds to escape the vehicle once the Captain releases the pedal.’

You make sure your hair is in the tightest ponytail known to man and that your skirt is bunched up in your free arm. You strap the shield onto the other. “Steve, you gonna be alright?”

His eyes are still focused on the road, but he braves a look in the mirror back at you. His voice is stern but not demanding. “I know you hate the damn shield but bend your legs, jump sideways, and tuck your head.”

“Yeah,” you nod along. Damn straight you’ll put your hate aside for one second if it’s here to save your life. “You better jump on time, you understand me?”

“Sam,” Steve keeps the speed steady and tries to ignore the way his heart is pounding from the sound of you kicking open the back door. “Sam, Widow. Widow.”

Before you jump, the asphalt a never ending, rapid glare of absolute darkness, you leave your phone on the seat in case Steve still needs her. “Friday, send Sam and Torres our location. They’re the only ones who can fly in undetected. Tell them what you told us.”

‘Will do, Agent Y/LN.’

“Be careful.”

You smirk at him, “Don’t be a hero and crash this one into the ice, yeah?”

You don’t wait for his reaction and instead take the plunge. The shield makes a hard impact with the asphalt down below, screeching for what seems like an eternity before slowing down. You did as instructed: knees tucked into your chest as far as you were able, head doing the same. By the time the ride finally ends and you’ve gone partially deaf, you can make out the sound of a loud explosion a close distance away. The heat from the sudden burst of wind nips at your face. You’ve also gone partially blind. 

Your poor boots are definitely ruined and there’s a faint tell of a bruised ankle in the works. The arm attached to the shield will also need to be popped back into place - it shouldn’t feel this loose. Luckily, your head and torso were completely unscathed. 

Lifting yourself up the best you could without straining anything too much, you noticed the car still in flames but driven off the road. 

“He jumped, he jumped, he jumped,” you repeat, limping as quickly as you could, shield still attached to your arm. The closer you get the clearer everything becomes, regardless of the smoke. “Steve.”

You squint through the orange light and the dark of night. The fire wasn’t all that loud in its crackles and it doesn’t take you long to realize while tapping your ears that you lost your earpiece. 

“Steve,” you try again, adrenaline still pumping but panic seeping in. As if on cue, you can make out his body laying far away from the car relatively unharmed. “Ah, shit.” You drop down on your knees and wince involuntarily. Slapping his cheeks doesn’t wake him up, neither does gently shaking him. You don’t want to do anything to hurt him more. 

The sound of gravel popping kicks you back into spy mode. Hide. This was a hit, of course it was, and they were coming to see their job done. 

“You so owe me,” you groan as you unstrap the shield to throw it into the woods, the faint tell of it hitting a tree enough to make you work faster. You hook your arms underneath Steve’s armpits and bend your knees, breathing in deeply and out a few times before pulling him with all your strength. There’s pain shooting up your arm but you try to ignore it. Small whimpers escape you as you pull harder and finally make it a good distance from the wreckage. You sit Steve, still unconscious, behind one of those massive pine trees and sit next to him after retrieving the shield. 

It’s only two black SUV’s that come to check their hard work. They’re bending down and using their own fire extinguishers, snapping their own photos, the works. It isn’t until Seda walks over to admire the wreckage that you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from screaming. 

You’re seated in front of Steve now with the shield in front of you when a sudden movement to your left startles you. Before you scream, however, a hand covers your mouth. 

“Shh, shh.” Sam. Your eyes fill with tears. 

“I’ve got him. Torres is coming for you, alright? I’m the only one who can carry him out.”

It doesn’t take much to convince you. You’re silently helping Sam strap Steve against his chest as Seda and his men are now investigating the woods. You can hear them close, cursing and yelling about finding you. 

“Go a little further. Down there,” Sam points in front of you. “Torres is parked and waiting. Go.”

“Don’t drop him.” Sam stifles his laugh. 

You follow his directions, limping as quickly as you can, and finally find Torres, your second knight in shining armor of the night. 

    After an all clear from the medical team, Steve is left alone in your hotel room to rest. He still hasn’t woken up but Helen isn’t worried since his scans show no major damage. Small talk with the rest of the team fills in the time but it’s like you’re not really there, merely a participant on a loop. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth and you’re covered in scratches and smoky ash and you can’t shake the feeling of wanting to kill something. 

Your father wanted you dead. And showing up to the wedding was just going to anger him more but it had to be done. But you were tired, so fucking tired, tired to the point where you couldn’t sleep or rest.

You let your hair down but stay in your tattered clothing, making yourself useful as best you can. You answer questions, you review footage, you draft up some reports. Bucky tries to sit you down at one point, but he backs off when you simply shake your head and give him that famous broken smile. 

You’re sitting at your desk trying to save some of your phone’s cloud through the connected email. Sam has already ordered you a new phone. On the computer to your left, you’re scanning and uploading the files you stole tonight. On the right, your little butterfly is transcribing conversations from yesterday. 

The transcription is finished before the uploads. It prints. 

SEDA: ‘Ernesto needs to know how many more women we can get from Jonathon. I thought you said your Italian contact was up to date?’

UNKNOWN: ‘He is. But the women are coming from here instead. Got a load of ten just now.’

SEDA: ‘The shipment goes out during the wedding. Not before, not after. We can’t fuck this up for Ernesto and we cannot have the stars and stripes finding out.’

UNKNOWN: ‘Ernesto plans to mention it to him tomorrow.’

SEDA: ‘Then make sure he keeps quiet about it.’

The bitter taste in your mouth returns and you have to run to the nearest bathroom.

     Steve wakes just an hour after, disoriented but able to discern who he is. “What happened?”

You’re standing at the foot of his bed, having just got there a few minutes before, practically on the verge of tears. “... Did you know?”

There it was. Any hope of truly coming to terms with this new world order or his role in it, any hope of feeling like he did before he succumbed to the American war propaganda and became a science experiment, crumbling before him. The heavy weight that were your shoulders, crumbling like shaky mountains. His own, tense and straining and urging him to get out of bed. 

He’s been in the trenches when the smell of gas and blood clogged his nostrils and made him dizzy. He’s experienced loss a thousand times over, just heinous instances of despair where he swore he was torn in two. He’s lost on his own accord and pretended like the world was still on its axis. 

And he knew his time was up. He just thought he’d have more than a day to enjoy it.  “I was going to tell you.”

It’s like the air is punched out of you. “You knew?”

“Please, listen, please,” he scrambles out of bed.

“What the fuck, Rogers?”

“Ramirez told us yesterday. I swear I only found out yesterday. Yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” You’re stepping away from him. He’s almost on his hands and knees and you’re stepping away from him. “Before?”

Steve makes a pained noise. “Yes, but please-”

“No! You kept this to yourself and you had the fucking audacity to share the same bed as me?”

“Please, let me explain-” He tries to reach out but you side-step him. He reacts like you’ve shot him.

“Don’t touch me, Steve!”

“Please, just let me explain. We all know - Bucky, Sam, Torres, we all know.”

Your face does something he’s never seen it do. “Fuck?”

He’s talking faster now, words just spilling on the floor and into the air and he doesn’t know what else to do. “We’re tracking it. We have a plan set. We were supposed to tell you tomorrow before the wedding.” He stops to take in a breath. “I was going to tell you.”

“You went behind my back.”

“If I would have told you, you would have done something horrible tonight! We need your father alive to find those people!”

Eyes wide in shock and anguish, you step further away from him. Each step was the equivalent of a dagger plunging deep into Steve’s heart, twisting and burning its way to the depths of his vulnerability. He wanted to succumb to the pain - after all, he deserved it.

“That would have been my choice to make!”

Now he pushed forward, shoulders hunched and palms turned upward as if he was pleading for a crumb of understanding. “I was gonna kill him.”

He drops to his knees, arms wrapping around your waist. You remained perfectly still, a tree stump with no cover. “I was gonna shoot him between the eyes when I first found out. But if I had done that, then we would never know the location of those people.”

His weight was pulling you down and you felt his wet cheek against your stomach. “I deserved to know.”

His grip tightened, “You did. But if you would have known-”

“I would have known. Period.”

He had to know how much he weighed. But Steve leaned his body onto yours harder, afraid you would vanish and god forbid turn to dust. It didn’t really register in his mind that, even though he was holding you in place, you weren’t exactly trying to escape his hold either. 

He had let you go once and he’ll be goddamned if he let you go again. 

“It ate me alive. I hated doing this-”

You pushed against his shoulders and sensed his reluctance to let go. Instead, you look down at him and tense your jaw. “Steve, you don’t hate me, do you?”

His face dropped and his grip loosened. You should just slap him across the face, Steve thinks, because how in the world were you thinking that at this moment? Never did he think you would find a way to twist this - to somehow blame yourself for his mistake. Took a long time to see it, but you were just as righteous as he was. It would get you both killed someday. 

“Why do you think that? What in the world would make you think that after all this time? After everything?”

He lets you push him away so he could stand but he makes sure to keep his hands on you. A tangible promise that you are real. 

“You agreed to help me catch a drug lord. You didn’t sign up for this extra mess.”

“We may not always know what we’re up against,” Steve began, sniffing and wiping at his wet face. God, he felt like such a mess. “But I could never fucking hate you. Don’t even think that.”

“You sure?” your voice cracks, hands slightly shaking from the need to touch him too. “Captain America didn’t sign up for this.”

He shakes his head almost violently, “No, no. Don’t go there. I am not him, I haven’t been him in a long time.”

“Steve-”

“No! I’ve hated the title for a while now. I’m done. I’ve hated my reflection for years and years.” The tiny whine in the middle of your throat gurgled and your hands moved instantly to cup his cheeks.  “I represent no one but myself. I’m tired of others thinking I’m the same man from ten years ago, or the same man from the forties, or the same man from last week just because they’re enamored by that star on my chest.”

He tilts his head to lean into your touch, “I am helping you because it’s the honorable thing to do. I signed up for this work, I intend to finish it. Not Captain America, but me - Steve, me.”

“You’re still making me feel like it’s something you have to do.”

“I admit that I was never overly fond of the idea of being wrapped up in this,” Steve admits, hands now cupping yours over his cheeks. “But toppling this empire will keep you safe.”

As heartwarming as that sounded, you broke the fantasy. “The minute we take the giants out, they’ll elect someone new.”

“But we take the giants out. The giants that hurt you.”

He’s right, like always. 

“Steve,” you say quietly, bringing his face closer to kiss away his tears. You’re struggling to keep the tippy-toes and your ankle is screaming for a break, but you persist. “You should have told me.”

“I know.”

“No more secrets.”

“None, I swear, I promise.”

Biting your lip to keep from crying, you make sure his eyes are locked on yours before you speak. “I’m not walking away this time. I’m not leaving you. Not again.”

Steve’s mouth releases a big burst of air like he was holding it in, and he wraps you in a hug that promises the same.

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess​ @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​

A/N: Wooooo that took forever lol xxMoni

[kinngxali]

“A story with Miu and the reader where the reader acts as Miu’s “assistant” in her inventions.”

okay so i had a super cool request sent in so here goes nothing, hope i don’t disappoint you !

•~•~•~•~•~~•~•~•~•

Miu and her assistant s/o:

warnings: swearing (are we surprised) & sexual innuendos

.

.

.

“Whatcha doin’, s/o?” Miu hopped onto an empty chair that was beside you, her head being supported by her arms. “Nothing much, Miu. Why, do you need something?” You turned to look at her, a warm smile on your face..., only to be met with her cheesy grin. “Great! I actually need your help with something, it’s a two-man job.” She winked at you as she held two fingers up, causing you to sigh. This wasn’t going to end very well.

“So, I rebooted it and brought some life back into this fuckin’ thing..” Miu rambled about her newest invention, but you didn’t listen to a single thing she said after realising that this was the same exact thing that had flown you up into the sky beforehand. “Miu, are you sure this is sa-” You were interrupted by her loud laugh. “Oh course it is, I’m not a fuckin’ idiot!” You reluctantly agreed as she set up the machine. It’s sole purpose was to get you from point A to B, but Miu had somehow made it into a massive canon. Even though it was an... unorthodox way of transportation, you didn’t think much of it. This is Miu, after all.

Miu wouldn’t fuck up again, right?

Wrong.

Oh-so wrong.

“Aw, cmon s/o, this is fun!” She screamed to you as you both fell towards the ground. All things considered, this is pretty tame compared to the other shit you’ve done with her, and you have done a lot.

You couldn’t help but laugh as she screamed in delight, her smile was so contagious.

After getting back down with the help of her jet pack, she immediately started working on a new invention, and you silently watched, intrigued with how she was able to do it.

“Screwdriver~”

“Gloves~”

“Dildo~!”

“Uh- what-?” You gave her a perplexed look, wondering if she was serious or not. “Just kidding! It might come in handy sooner or later though..” Her voice got quiter with each word, and she was highly concentrated, her lips pressed into a thin line. You noticed that she was holding a ridiculously big cigar between her fingers, which seemed to be a regular occurrence for you, so you had no choice but to go along with it. “S/o, report on the uh, fuuuck what’s it called again?” You shook your head with a small smile, trying not to laugh. “The rocket?”

“Bingo! The rocket!” She clicked her fingers enthusiastically, pointing over to the cluttered table.

“You know Miu, for the Ultimate Inventor, you do seem quite forgetful...” She shook you off with a wave of her hand as she sat down, analysing her blueprints. “Yeah, yeah. Say what you want, S/o, just know that you’re wrong.”

A smile graced your lips as you walked over to your cluttered work desk, which was placed on the other side of the room so you couldn’t bother Miu.

With a heavy sigh, you read through the progress report for the rocket, something that was becoming quite bothersome. “Progress report isn’t looking that good, Miu.” You swivelled around on your comfortable chair, skimming over the pages of the booklet. “We need to speed things up so we can finish it quickly.” You shook your head in disbelief, going to complain about how long it could take. “Oh whatever S/o, we’ve done inventions for transportation so many fucking times, one more time won’t hurt.” A smirk played at her lips as she placed down her comical cigar, and much to your surprise, she threw her head back, thinking of what you assumed was a way to speed up the progress. “I’m gonna go off on a whim and say... you’re stuck for ideas.” A gasp came from Miu’s mouth, and she stood up, dropping a few papers from the wooden desk. “I’m Miu fuckin' Iruma, I never get stuck for ideas!”

Seven hours.

It took you seven whole hours to get this damned rocket finished.

You collapsed onto your chair, exhaling dramatically as Miu paced around the room, seeming more motivated than before. Her hair was more disheveled, and her finger was resting on her chin, which only made you worry more. “Miu, seriously... we’ve done enough for today..” She shook her head, smiling at you mischievously. “Oh believe me, I’m fucking tired, but I’m-!”

“Miu Iruma... I know.” 

A moment of silence passed between the two of you, but it was interrupted by Miu. “Hey, S/o, let’s test out the rocket!” Just as you was about to refuse her offer, she grabbed your arm and dragged you over to the rocket; your eyes widened as she dragged you inside. “Oh my gosh, Miu wait-”

Before you knew it, you ended up nearing the stars once again, just like how the canon threw you into the sky; Miu was laughing loudly, throwing her arms up.

“Cmon, S/o, we’ve done shit like this so many times!”

“Doesn’t make it any easier on my stomach..”

Once you were back in the lab, you stood still for a second, feeling lightheaded. Miu, on the other hand, rushed to her desk in a hurry, gathering all the blueprints. “..Can finally put this shit away....” After gathering your thoughts and throwing up, you went to your small desk and grabbed the progress report, feeling a wave of euphoria wash over you as you wrote down ‘100%’ on the paper.

Miu came up behind you and threw her arms around your neck, rocking from side to side. “So, what next, S/o?”

“Sleep.”

•~•~•~•

in all honesty, i’m not very happy with how this turned out, so i’m thinking of making a part two.

also, i’m so sorry for taking like,,,, a month. ifeelsobad :(

- alicia

[zwowow]

I’m in the mood for angst, so Em ignoring Kells, and kells feeling like shit because of it

saw an old man in a sweatsuit. thinking of u

The first day, he understands that Em is busy. He's always working on his own shit and working with artists he knows, too. He has shit to do other than answer Kells' dumbass texts.

The second day, he gets it still. Em isn't attached to his phone the way Kells is. But really, he could've at least opened the text. Maybe Em had just swiped away the text, he thinks. 

fit check? 

He sends the text with a mirror selfie he'd actually taken three days ago attached. He was wearing a hoodie he'd stolen from Em, there was no way he couldn't open it and respond.

By the third day, Kells would never admit it, but he's mad anxious. He'd been right about Em being unable to resist opening the text, but had been proven wrong when even hours later, he hadn't texted anything back. Was there something wrong? Had he said something to deserve the silent treatment he was getting? Was the sweatsuit comment, though he’d sent almost the exact message five times in the last few months, too far? He shoots off a quick we good??? and he pretends he doesn't notice the way his fingers shake on the keys.

The fourth, fifth, and sixth days drag and fly by at once. For the first time since Em's cold front had started, he was busy all day every day. He didn't have time to check his phone every hour and see the lack of notifications under Em's contact. He still felt every minute pass by. He perked up every time he did get a call or text, only to come down every time it wasn't who he wanted it to be. 

With each day the urge to call or text Em again grew stronger, but he made himself wait. If Em wanted to talk to him, he'd reach out. He'd read Kells' message. The ball is in Em's court, though the more he thinks about it, Kells wonders if it's ever been his.

Seven days marks exactly a week since the last time Em texted him. His thumb hovers over the call button at least ten times throughout day. He needs to hear Em's voice, if only to hear him say that it's over. He can't just fade away. Kells won't let him. 

This time, he actually presses call. Em doesn't pick up, but Kells stays on the line anyway, just to hear Em's outgoing message.

"Call me." He says quietly, desperately, into his phone when he gets prompted to leave a voicemail.

The worst part, he thinks when he gets to day eight and Em's radio silence has taken its permanent place as the most important thing on his mind, is that he doesn't even know what he did wrong. The last time they'd actually talked, they'd been facetiming and it felt like a normal conversation. There were no awkward pauses or barely concealed annoyed sighs, just a normal conversation that ended slowly, neither of them ready to hang up. When it finally came time, Kells pressed his screen to end the call, and cut Em off right in the middle of saying something.

He texted him right away and asked if it was something important, and Em texted back quickly.

Nah.

So Kells left it at that. And that was the last text Em had sent him. Kells hadn't thought anything of it at the time, but looking back a week and a day later, he wonders if the end of their normal phone call had been normal after all.

On day nine, or ten, Kells isn't sure what to call the wee hours of the morning when he hasn't slept at all, he finally breaks. Obviously Em doesn't want to talk to him. If he can ignore him like this without even an update text. No explanations of how busy he is or anything else Kells would think was bullshit but accept as an excuse because anything is easier than accepting the truth. The truth that he's finally come around to.

Em is done with him.

They had a good run: great sex, funny banter, and even though they argued twice a day it seemed, Kells has never really felt known like he did with Em. But that's over. Em has made it quite clear that he's done with this by ghosting him this last week.

Kells pulls out his phone and opens Em's contact for the last time.

Got the message, asshole. Guess this is over.

It's 4 AM California time, so around 6 in Detroit. Em is probably still sleeping. He'll wake up to a breakup text and be relieved. Kells hates him for it. Why did he have to be the one to send the final text, and the one to get his heart broken?

If Em wanted to end them he should've done it himself. But no, he's a fucking coward. He always has been. Kells should have fucking known. He's a stupid piece of shit for not knowing, for not expecting this. Em was always going to tire of him. Shit, he gets tired of himself sometimes, he's whiny and needy and kind of a prick, but he hadn't expected Em to just go silent. He'd thought they'd made it past the point of the fadeaway. He'd assumed he deserved more for Em. Kells chuckles into the dark. Idiot move. To believe he deserved anything but to get shit on.

Whatever, what's done is fucking done. Em can stop answering his texts, but he can't un-suck his dick or un-eat his ass. At the very least, Kells will always have that. There's enough memories of the two of them to relive a new one every night until he's finally over him.

After sending the text, Kells lays back onto the headboard of his bed and feels around his bedside table in the dark for the half smoked joint and lighter he'd left there earlier. He lights up in the dark, guided only by the flame of his lighter. In the dark, nobody can see the tears he sheds silently while he smokes. Not that there's anyone with him, he's alone and lonely. As it should be.

The roach is just starting to burn his fingers when his phone lights up and begins to buzz.

It's Em.

He contemplates letting it go to voicemail. He wants to ignore Em the way Em has been ignoring him. At the last minute he picks it up, unable to resist hearing Em's voice. It's pathetic, how much he needs to hear Em on the other line.

"Kells?" Em rasps into his ear.

"Hm?" He doesn't trust himself to talk. He might say some stupid shit like 'I didn't mean it' or 'take me back' or 'I love you'.

"Kells. Fuck. I just saw your text." Which one? He wants to snear. Which text? The one he just sent breaking up with him or the ones before that he had no problem ignoring?

"Okay." He says instead. His throat works tightly over the word, threatening to squeeze out one of the things he absolutely must not say.

"You're done with this? You want us to be over?" Em sounds frantic, but Kells doesn't understand how he didn't see it coming.

"You're the one who's been ignoring me for over a week! Obviously you want this to be over." The silent tears he shed earlier come back with a force that almost turns them into full blown sobs.

"No! Kells… That's not it." 

"Then what is it?" There is no logical reason Em can give for going from texting and calling multiple times a day to radio silence for ten days.

But he wants to hear the illogical reason anyway.

"Do you remember what I said last week when we were about to end the call?" Their last call. When Em cut off in the middle of his sentence. And the last text he sent Kells. Nah

"Like right at the end? I didn’t hear you, you told me it was nothing."

"I said I love you." Those words steal the breath from his lungs. He chokes on the meaning behind them. Em loves him, he said he loves him. Regardless of what he said, though, he still hasn't talked to Kells in over a week.

"Kells... you still there?" Em says says he's been silent for a while. Kells inhales deeply, clearing his lungs of the last of the weed and what Em just laid on him.

"Yeah. I'm just tryna understand how the fuck you go from saying you love me to not thinking I'm worth a fucking text back." He hadn't known his words would come out with such bite, hard despite coming out through tears, but it's what Em deserves.

"We haven't said that yet." Em says like that explains the cold shoulder.

"I know."

"You didn't say it back. Man, you fuckin’ hung up." Kells wants to hang up again. He's told Em multiple times now.

"I didn't hear you." His voice is wrecked and desperate. If he had heard Em, he would've said it back. He's been feeling the same way for months, but hadn't wanted to ruin what they had by admitting to such deep feelings so early on.

"I know but... it fucking scared me, y'know? I said I love you, Kells. Do you know how fucking awful that is, to say you love someone and have them not say it back?"

Do you know how hard it is to be ignored by someone you love, he wants to ask? Does Em know how awful it is to fall in love so easily you never know when it's real until they leave? Because Kells knows how Em feels, but he doubts Em knows how he feels.

"You didn't answer my calls. You left my texts on fucking read." He's crying openly now, loud sobs into the night.

"I know and I'm sorry. It was a dick move, but I didn't know what to say to you. I love you, Kells, and I was convinced you didn't love me back, that you hung up on purpose to get out of saying anything back, so I tried to see how long I could last without you. I fucking tortured myself...." Em clears his throat and lowers his voice "Obviously, I wasn't just torturing myself."

"No. You weren't." 

"I'm sorry, so fucking sorry. I love you Kells. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Kells doesn't forgive him. Because even if he didn't mean to, he did hurt him. Bad. He's spent the last ten days in pain and he won't lie about it. So he tells Em the truth, though both his brain and heart beg him to tell an easier to swallow lie.

"I love you, too." He says.

[twst-campos13]

may i,,, request jack and deuce scenario with them studying in the library,,, they touch hands,,, and they all nervous and shy together,,, romantic-like- but they're not dating yet HAHAHAHA thank you plz take care of urself~

Hello!! This is my first shipping request to have received qvq! I’m very sorry that this took so long but I hope you enjoy it !! （=´∇｀=）/

Warnings: none! Tags: fluff, idiots pining, study date

“The braincell gets passed around here” GROUPCHAT

[Isekai Therapist: Hey guys! Sorry, I can’t come to our study group rn. Grim threw up a whole lunch and I have to take him to the infirmary.]

[“I’m gonna bench press a thousand truck”: Vil is being a pain in the fuckin ass as usual :) ] [“I’m gonna bench press a thousand truck”: Sorry]

[Cabbage boy: Lilia-sama called me for an important duty! My apologies!]

[The Responsible One: Oh. That’s understandable.] [The Responsible One: It’s okay.]

[🐣Chicc baby🐣: Yeah, that’s okay! I think I got here early anyway] [🐣Chicc baby🐣: And Ace?]

[♥️Bitchppola♥️: I forgot im on flamingo duty. Sorry babe]

[🐣Chicc baby🐣: Did you call me babe?]

[♥️Bitchppola♥️: Not like anyone is going to be jealous ;) ]

[Isekai Therapist: no flirting pls]

[Isekai Therapist: Jack, Deuce, we’re sorry for not coming!! I hope you two find some time to study]

Around fifteen minutes before their meeting time on a Thursday, the ones they anticipated to come did not come at all. Well, it is not that surprising, but still, the two of them were still surprised.

Jack knows that Epel will be particularly busy at this time of the month. Deuce knows that Ace does have a habit of canceling at the last minute, but he will not do that if he is the one organizing a study session. Both of them knows that Sebek and Yuu do have their own endeavors to attend to.

It is somehow underwhelming.

“Well…” Deuce sighs, tucking his phone back inside his pocket dejectedly. He and Jack had been standing in front of the library doors for quite some time now and waited for their friends to show up. They agreed to meet there at around 4 PM at least to study. Authentic assessments and written tests are starting to loom over them, and they did not want to fail, so Ace suggested they “combine all their braincells on Thursday 4 PM and teach each other.”

But there is no sign of the redhead nor any of their peers. “I guess we can try and meet up again tomorrow.” Deuce gives Jack an apologetic smile. He was looking forward to studying with the wolf. In their last study session, he had learned so much when Jack was leading. Deuce is also excited to show Jack his own set of organized notes. Unfortunately, your plans do not always go smoothly. That is why there is a next time. Hopefully always a next time.

“You’re leaving?” Jack asks when Deuce is about to take his leave. The Heartslabyul first year looks at him with mild surprise. “Uh…yeah? We can’t really do a “study group” when there’s no group to study with,” he tries to answer lightheartedly but hearing what he said somehow sounded a bit rude. Deuce grimaced. “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

Deuce is not sure what kind of reaction Jack’s natural scowl is suggesting. “It’s fine, you didn’t mean anything wrong,” Jack assures him. “Besides, you’re kinda right. Though, that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t cancel our session.”

The suggestion catches his attention and Deuce feels his energy come back with renewed vigor. If Jack wants to continue with their study plan then that means Deuce will be able to learn more from him and he can show Jack what he had learned!

“Even if it’s just the two of us?” Deuce asks, nearly bouncing on his feet despite his cautiousness. Jack gives him a grin—a voice at the back of Deuce’s mind comments how cute it is—and shrugged. “Yeah, why not? It’s still a study session.”

“Then let’s do it!” Deuce pounds his fist into his open palm, a grin stretching across his face as relief washes over him.

Jack feels his ear suddenly tug down when he sees how excited Deuce is that their study session is not canceled. He has to admit, his eagerness is admirable. Deuce takes the chances of being a great honor student wholeheartedly. Sure, he cheated one time, but he was serious when he said he would not do it again. Jack can see what a hard-working person Deuce is. It is what made Jack suggest that they could study together instead. It is not for anything else, come on, he is just helping a friend out.

When Deuce is motivated to study because he is with a trusted friend, Jack is motivated to teach him because he is willing to learn.

They entered the library quietly and behaved, not letting their shoes squeak against the floor unlike a few second years at the end of the room. The two first years greeted the librarian right after Professor Crewel left. Deuce thought it would be rude to interrupt the two adults that were seemingly caught in their own moments.

When Professor Crewel passed by them, he gave them an approving glance at their studying materials. It is not too ambitious to hope for extra credit points because a teacher saw you studying, right?

After signing their names on the logbook, they took a seat on one of the long tables juxtaposing the bookshelves. Deuce still feels a tingle of déjà vu when he visits the library. It feels like long ago when he, Ace, Yuu, and Grim were discussing their plan of fighting Riddle during a magic duel. Now, here he is, sitting beside one of the people he admired to study for a test.

Does Deuce think that Jack does not notice his staring? Jack wants to ignore his friend and continues to lay out their study notes neatly on the table to avoid clutter. Yet, when he is finished, Deuce is still dazing out. Only then did Jack stares back at him did he blinked out of his starry state.

“Was there something on my face?” Jack asks with an arch of his eyebrow. Deuce shakes his head, chuckling awkwardly, and looks away with pink ears. “N-No no! I was just lost in my own thought. I’m sorry for staring,” he apologizes and lays out his own study materials to start. “Do you want to start with Potions first?”

He changed the subject to put behind that brief awkward moment. Jack has no complaints about that and opens his book. “Sure. Ace mentioned you have some notes about the uses of dragon blood?”

“Twelve—I mean yes!” Deuce reaches for his Potions notebook, immediately flipping over the pages where he wrote the information. From the blur of white pages, Jack notices how organized Deuce makes his notes are. When he truly wants to understand something, Deuce does his best to create his own little keywords and highlights that connect to the topic he took note of. Jack’s ears twitch at the arrows and underlines across the page. Deuce sounds to be rambling about the dragon blood, but Jack is more interested in what he wrote in his notebook that he leans forward in interest.

The proximity startles the Heartslabyul student that Jack straightens his posture when Deuce squeaked. They look at each other, equally surprised. “Do…do you want to look at my notes?” Deuce offers, assuming Jack wants to for he leaned his head so forward they nearly bumped temples. Deuce could not help but feel pride warm his chest. Wolves have good eyesight and Jack could have scanned over his notes without leaning over. But the fact that he did lean over just shows that Deuce’s notes had intrigued him!

In contrast to the happy taps of Deuce’s heart, Jack’s is hammering. He could not believe he appeared so entranced by the patterns on Deuce’s notebook. He is about to apologize for his rudeness when he sees the twinkle of happiness in his friend’s eyes. The peacock greens appear brighter and rounder that Jack might as well see imaginary stars pop up beside Deuce’s head.

His adorable expression makes his ear twitch and for some reason his cheeks warm. Deuce does not notice this. He is waiting for Jack’s answer who blinks and looks away. “Uh—yeah, sure.”

The cute smile Deuce wears on his face is very similar to a puppy who just got rewarded. Seeing him get happy over praise and recognition stirs something in Jack’s chest. He does not understand why his tail is idly wagging at seeing Deuce’s smile and eagerness as accepting praise over one’s hard work should be natural. He should not be this adorable.

Wait—adorable? Jack, this is not the time to be dumbstruck! They have a test to study for, Seven’s sake. Jack should get serious. He wants Deuce to pass his test as well, so he should not get distracted and help out his friend to the best of his abilities.

It is challenging when it should not be. Deuce is an easy student to teach. He listens and asks questions for clarification when he does not get it the first time. Jack could say this study session has been going smoothly so far…with a few minor bumps. Metaphorical and literal bumps.

The table is not occupied by anyone else but them. However, they still need to speak in hushed tones to avoid distracting the other visitors in the library. Because of this, their proximity progressively narrows, occasionally brushing elbows or shoulders with each other. Do they shy away from this? No, of course not. Jack and Deuce are buddies. Being close just means they are comfortable with each other. So where did the awkward atmosphere come from?

Deny it as much as he will, but Jack has a crush on Deuce. Their closeness would not have been a problem if the slightest brush would not send sparks up Jack’s nerves. It does not make him jumpy or snappy, but it does make him a little tense that he had to brush it off to Deuce as being cold. Which, to normal people, would be a far-fetched reason, but Deuce seems to take the excuse anyway.

Deuce is equally tensed as Jack is but only a little bit. He is used to the subtle kinship for he sees Jack as a close friend. This just means that they are comfortable with each other as bros. There is no hidden feelings or subtext with their simple study session. In fact, Deuce welcomes the warm feeling over his chest. He feels absolutely elated to be able to learn more with Jack. Perhaps their other friends being unable to come is meant for this moment to happen.

And it seems Jack shares the same thoughts as he does for the realization hit him harder than the level of intimacy they are sharing. The Savanaclaw student stops his teeth from gritting. Those guys…they can be smart when they want to. Jack does not want to assume but he can deliberate that they purposely did not attend so they can set up Deuce and him on an impromptu study date. Well, not really impromptu, but still.

Even without confessing it out loud it seems that they had caught on that he likes Deuce. Jack tries not to be transparent and keeps up a front, but Ace pointed out that his ears and tail had snitched on him. It takes anyone with eyes to know he is into his best friend, as Ace had said.

Had Deuce caught on like he did? Jack does not think so. His friend’s nose is buried deep in his Magic History book—the next subject they are studying on. Jack stops highlighting some important pointers on his own book and stares at how the peacock green color of his eyes seems to flutter as it absorbs the lesson. Jack notices that Deuce’s eyebrows crease slightly when concentrating and he even mutters the words to understand them better. His voice makes Jack’s ears twitch. He is so curious to watch and soon Jack feels the tense air thin out between them.

Deuce’s scent is comforting. When he is idle, like this, Jack could feel the coolness of his scent, almost like mint. It is not a bold scent but rather a soft one. Like timidness waiting to slowly burst.

Like his bubble when those peacock greens swiftly stare back at him.

His tail stops wagging—it was wagging?!!—and his eyes quickly dart back to his own textbook. That was a close one. He cannot let himself get distracted again. Infatuation is alright but Jack doubts it will develop into something like puppy love. Better to focus on the origins of Merlin than the origin of their love story.

Deuce feels himself flinch a little when Jack looked away. His guarded expression makes him feel distant. The library is already quiet yet the silence falling unto them makes it more awkward. Deuce, while hoping his friend does not mind, inches his seat closer to Jack. The proximity from before made him feel comfortable and he wishes to feel that comfort again.

However, Jack flinches from the sudden brush of their arms. Deuce internally panics and stuttered an apology. “S-Sorry—it’s just, well, it’s—” He is cut off from Jack holding onto his arm before he can even scoot away. The warmness of his chest creeps up to his cheeks. Jack’s ears fold briefly before it points up. “You can stay close…so—so we can hear each other.” Jack looks like he is pouting but it might be Deuce’s imagination.

Well, nonetheless, he softly smiles at his friend, thankful that Jack did not push him away.

Jack removes his hand from Deuce’s arm so that they may focus on their lesson thoroughly. There is a little part of them, however, that wishes they may able to hold each other closer during their study session.

Bonus:

“Operation: Jack of Spades” GROUPCHAT

[mamayuu: they're doing it!! they're hanging out!! wohooo!!]

[the sexy one: TOLD YOU IT WOULD WORK] [the sexy one: HAH] [the sexy one: YALL BITCHES OWE ME 10 MADOLS]

[Yeehaw, bitch: I'm already broke and this is the shit you do]

[the supportive one: A deal is a fair deal. Although, I almost doubted you, Ace]

[the sexy one: ya shouldn't have lmao]

[Yeehaw, bitch: okay but are they gonna start dating after this?]

[the sexy one: wanna bet on it?]

[mamayuu: again?? ace all of us are broke]

[the supportive one: I will choose to stay out of this]

[the sexy one: epel?]

[Yeehaw, bitch: unlikely. 20 madols]

[the sexy one: okay fair]

[mamayuu: 30 madols. they arent that dense. besides, Jack will confess after this if we give him more push]

[the sexy one: make it 50 and we’ll call it a night]

[imagines-by-rose]

New Recruit - Part 1

Hello, again! Thank you all for the positive responses to my first fic, it means so, so much. I hope you enjoy this multi-part work!

Summary: Y/n is brought into Kingsman as Lancelot after the events leading to Roxy’s death, and Eggsy is furious. As the two work together to stop a notorious jewel thief, however, attitudes change - and feelings develop.

Pairing: Eggsy Unwin x Reader

Genre: Angst w/ a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Death

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He hated this. He hated her.

Well -- what she represented, at least.

He especially hated how much she reminded him of her predecessor. God, she even looked like her! This girl -- y/n, he remembered -- was the new Lancelot. Finished basic training with flying colors just last week. Just thinking about it made him scowl. She had no idea who’s place she was standing in. What right did she have to just waltz in with what he could only assume was pride? It was hard enough when Harry was killed. Now Roxy, his Lancelot, was murdered. And not two months since that damn explosion took her life, some new recruit is assuming her place? He just couldn’t stand it.

“Kingsman really doesn’t waste any fucking time, huh?” The bitter thought struck him.

“Galahad,” Merlin’s call of Eggsy’s codename fuzzed with an electric static through his eyeglasses. “You’re to join Lancelot and myself in the briefing room in five minutes. We’ve got a mission for you two.”

Oh, great.

*  *  *  *  *  *

Eggsy stilled when he heard somber voices from behind the briefing room door. Curious, he leant his ear against the doorframe, trying not to make a sound.

“I can only imagine how hard this must be for you, y/n. I want to thank you personally for joining Kingsman on such short notice, given the circumstances. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me.”

“Thank you, Merlin. That means a lot, really.”

Curiosity gave way to frustration. What could Merlin possibly have to console y/n over, of all people? Oh, sorry about the rushed training regimen, usually new recruits get ten days instead of seven. Is he serious? Merlin’s comforting Roxy’s replacement? She didn’t even know her.

Unbelievable.

Having heard enough, Eggsy roughly opened the door, abruptly ending any conversation. Y/n seemed timid at the sight of him, looking to her hands and twiddling her thumbs.

She looked pathetic. Eggsy wondered how someone like her could even become an agent at all.

He sat with a huff, surprised to see an outstretched hand before him.

"You must be Eggsy," she smiled politely. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced. I'm y/n y/--" 

"It's Galahad."

Her hand faltered. "I'm sorry?"

"Address me as Galahad, agent." His voice sounded cold, even to him.

A simple "oh" was all she said before taking a seat.

Eggsy didn't miss the look of disapproval on Merlin's face. It made him feel like a scolded child.

Who was he? His mum?

He supposed that was a bit harsh, but Eggsy was nothing if not stubborn. He crossed his arms indignantly and looked away with a roll of his eyes.

The air was awkward as Merlin went over the details of the mission. Eggsy wouldn’t look at y/n in the eye. She was obviously uncomfortable, shifting in her seat whenever her attempts to lighten the atmosphere between them were refuted.

“This," Merlin tapped his clipboard, prompting a photo of a woman to appear on a screen behind him, "is Svetlana Ivanov. She's stolen several priceless jewels worldwide; the rarer the better. Though she came close, Ivanov failed to steal the Hope Diamond from the Smithsonian a few months ago. The Statesman saw to that mission."

Eggsy whistled. "Well that's impressive, innit? Goin’ after the Heart of the Ocean, an’ all?"

Merlin appeared unamused, but the mirth in his eyes betrayed him.

"Do you find attempting grand theft impressive, Galahad?"

Eggsy shrugged, a smug grin on his face.

"We’ve received intel that she plans to steal the Centenary Diamond from the Tower of London. There will be a gala held to honor the 39th anniversary of its unveiling, the guests at which will all be patrons to the exhibit. You two will pose as a newlywed couple whose families contributed handsomely to the museum - anonymously, of course."

Merlin handed each agent a black folder. "These reports contain Ivanov’s photo, as well as those of the philanthropists with whom we expect you to socialize. Attached to each photo is a dossier containing enough personal information about the attendees for you to appear acquainted. Commit them to memory; we don’t need you drawing unnecessary attention. Understood?”

Eggsy made a noise of disapproval, clearly unimpressed with the assignment. “You’re jokin', bruv. Newlyweds? With her?” Eggsy gestured at y/n. “Are you taking the piss, Merlin? She’s only been here a week and you’re gonna make us pose as newlyweds?”

The calmness in Merlin’s voice did little to mask his anger. “As you know, if you’ve got a problem, Eggsy, you may address it to me in private.”

Y/n risked extending the olive branch once again. “Eg--" she paused, catching herself. "Galahad, I know I’m new, but I’m a fast learner. I promise I won’t let the mission down. If you’re uncomfortable, we could get to know each other first? It might help us act more convincing. You’ve been here longer than I have, I’m sure you could help--”

Eggsy shot up from his seat, furious.

“Just fuck off, Lancelot! If you’re trying to chum up to me you can leave it out, yeah? You’re not Roxy and you never will be, so stop fuckin’ tryin'!”

Y/n sank into herself, her gaze falling to the floor.

“For fuck’s sake, Eggsy! Would it kill you to be a decent human being for five minutes?”

Merlin’s outburst grounded him. Eggsy turned back to her, his rage ebbing into a shame that gripped his chest. Y/n wasn’t crying -- she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction -- but the hurt in her eyes was unmistakable. Eggsy suddenly felt very small under her upturned glare. Her face twisted into a snarl, fists clenched at her sides, chest heaving.

She was livid.

“Y/n, I’m sor--”

“Don’t!” she spat. “Don’t you dare talk to me, Galahad.” Her voice growing more severe as tears began to swell in her eyes. “If anyone knows that Roxy -- that my sister is irreplaceable, it’s me.”

Eggsy’s eyes widened, his shame sinking deep and cold into his stomach. Now he’d really fucked up. He could only watch as y/n -- Roxy’s sister. Fuck! How did he not know? -- threw the door open and stormed out of the room.

He had to fix this.

“Care to tell me what the fuck that just was?”

Eggsy sank back into his seat, head in his hands.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath.

“Aye. A flaming heap of it, looks like.”

Merlin sighed and placed a comforting hand on Eggsy’s shoulder. “I know you miss her, Eggsy. We all do. But the world isn’t going to wait for us to finish mourning. Kingsman has a responsibility to uphold, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”

“I know, it’s just--” he sighed. “Seeing someone replace Roxy so fast…it was like she was being erased. I couldn’t stand it.”

Merlin’s hand gave Eggsy’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I know it looks cold to find someone to assume Lancelot’s position so quickly. But I assure you, Roxy will never be forgotten. You’re a testament to that, just as Harry was to your father.”

Eggsy’s lips tightened.

“What you’re feeling is shared by every Kingsman when an agent is lost. But we have always kept going. No one wants to know what could happen if we don’t press on.”

Eggsy rose from his seat. Merlin was right, as always.

“You’d better go sort this out. The mission is in two weeks and I need you both to be at your best.”

Eggsy nodded, heading in y/n’s direction before stopping at the door.

“Thanks, Merlin. I owe you one.”

“Anytime, lad.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I hope y’all are liking it so far! Part 2 is currently in the works, so I’ll try to get that out when I can.

‘Til next time!