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dangerousnbeautiful · 2 years ago

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Finish What You Started

Pairing : Steve Harrington x Samantha Mayfield

Summary : Sam and Steve make dinner together, and after dinner Steve washes the dishes while thinking about a night that he gave into his desires for Sam. What happens when Sam notices that Steve is getting turned on and she teases him about it?

Warnings : Daddy Kink, Sexual Threatening, Degradation, Forceful Oral (M), Masturbation (F), Oral (F), Unprotected Sex (Wrap It Before You Tap It Guys), and Slight Breeding Kink.

“You and food.” Sam shook her head. “Has anyone ever come between you two?” she joked. “Because I can see you marrying a pizza, but nothing else long term.” Nancy came to mind, and he shut the thought down fast, though he felt grateful for the intrusion. Yeah, he’d once put himself out there, and look at how that turned out. This fascination with Sam meant nothing. Just a hot chick with a bad ass attitude who he happened to be friends with. It was natural he’d be attracted to qualities he’d once hoped he might possess. “Nope.” He forced a grin. “Nothing beats a good pie. So, what’s for dinner tonight?”

She shook her head and sighed. “Come on. You can help me peel the sweet potatoes and chop up the onions.” He looked at her in confusion, “Wait. Those are vegetables.” She chuckled and rolled her eyes at him, “Yes, they are. You’re so smart.” He glared at her, saw her smile, and felt his palms sweat. “I can’t believe I have to work for my meal, and let me tell you something, Sam. You keep rolling your eyes like that, and one day they won’t roll back normal.” She laughed. “Whatever. Now grab a peeler and stop giving me shit.” She pointed that steel finger at him. “Fine, fine. No need for violence. Just tell me what to do.”

Over an hour later, he felt more than satisfied. The baked chicken, noodles, and veggie mash had gone down smoothly. He’d forced himself to only take two helpings, still hungry, but sadly not for food. He wished he didn’t remember how she tasted or how right it felt to make out with her at the senior house party some of the other popular kids hosted after graduation. He hustled her out of the kitchen when she tried to do the dishes. “Go sit and look pretty. Paint your nails. Whatever you do when you’re not working.”

“Paint my nails?” He filled a large pan with soapy water and, unable to help himself, tossed over his shoulder, “You know what I meant, Mayfield.” The way he said her last name sent a shiver down her spine, and her very presence had already started to make him horny. He braced himself against the sink, trying to get rid of the hard-on that wouldn’t quit. The thoughts of what he wanted to do to her that night popping back into his head which did not help his situation die down. It was like he wanted to die, smothered in the flames of his dirty mind and her hot body. She saw his issue and couldn’t help but smirk, “Promises, promises,” she taunted. “Oh please.” ‘Damn it, woman, I’m doing my best to keep it together.’ “As if you could handle me.”

“I think I handled you pretty well at the senior house party.” He glanced at her, seeing her so smug and sexy. So annoyingly unfazed from the tension that was building between them. “You just had to go there.” He said with a glare as she smirked again. “You did it first. Now get busy and do my dishes, tough guy. I’m going to sit here and watch a big strong man working in my kitchen, while I think about what pattern to do on my nails next.” She snickered. Fed up with her for being so damn cute and too much to resist, he left the sink with soapy hands and dared to approach her. She narrowed her eyes on him, “Don’t even think about getting me wet.” He paused. She blinked then turned a wonderful shade of pink.

His smile grew. “Aw, are you saying you’re already wet for me? Don’t need any help to get there?” She glared. “You wish.” Her gaze trailed down to his fly, and she swallowed audibly, not helping the situation. “You’re, um -” Steve was only human, and a guy could only take so much. “Yep. I’m rock hard for you, baby doll. You know, I haven’t had my dessert yet. I think I’m due for a piece of pie.” He pounced. She stopped him by placing her hands on his shoulders. They stared at each other, and he saw the same hunger he felt in her emerald-green gaze. “Does that mean that you’re going to eat me for dessert?” He hadn’t realized how much he’d be affected by her words, but he should have known that Sam wouldn’t play around for long.

“Yep. Gonna lick you until you cum.” Just thinking about it hurt because he felt ready to split his pants. “Oh, okay.” She licked her lips, and he groaned. “But what about sex?” She asked softly with a hint of curiosity in her voice. “What about it?” He asked, his voice deep, obviously aroused. “Are we going to have it?” She said biting her lip and looking up at him. “Yeah.” He blew out a breath. Her surprise turned into a naughty grin. “Oh. Interesting.” The damn woman licked her lips again. “Quit teasing me, Mayfield, I’m about to explode,” he confessed. “I’m clean, I’m huge, and I’m ready to fuck you into the ground. I want you, Sam. Now, do you have any more questions? Is this a damn debate club match or can we just get down and dirty now?”

She frowned. “You don’t have to get testy about it.” Then she grinned and stared between his legs. “Testy. Get it? Like, your testes? Should I spell that for you, so you get the joke?” He glared at her, “I think you’re a brat in need of an intensely good long session of vigorous sexual activities. ” She smirked, “Don’t brats need spankings?” She yelped when he lifted her up and over his shoulder in one smooth move, holding her in a fireman’s carry. He’d smacked her ass twice by the time he’d made his way into her bedroom. Once inside, he closed the door behind him. Steve saw a room filled with shades of red and black with tints of purple but held off on the inspection. Not now, when he had a warm and willing woman to plunder. Feeling decidedly sporadic, he tossed her onto her bed and followed her down.

She huffed, but before she could say anything, he pinned her to the mattress, conscious of how much larger, and harder, he was. “Are you sure about this, Sam? I need to know that this is what you want.” He couldn’t help grinding against her when she shifted, her legs spread and cradling him in the best way. “If we do this it better not be weird between us afterwards and I mean it.” At his fervent nod, she dragged his head down to her. “About time.” He groaned and kissed her, and his world settled on nothing but the beautiful Samantha Mayfield. She smelled like some kind of incense, and it was intoxicating. Her skin was smooth, and her lips tasted like the best-crafted beer; rich and full and so damn tasty.

She moaned into his mouth, and he squeezed her breast, not sure when he’d put his hand there. He had to touch skin and quickly moved under her shirt then palmed her, reveling in the taut nipple under the silk of her bra. He pinched her, and she shot up off the bed into him. He pulled back to see her dark cloudy gaze, and her lips ripe and red, swollen from his kiss. “Put it in me. Now.” She demanded and pushed him up to give her some space. He stared in awe as she shimmied out of her T-shirt and bra then waited, impatient. “We don’t have all night you know.” He laughed, surprised he could feel anything but all-consuming lust. “Still such a smartass.” He stared at her astounded someone could look so perfect. He caressed her, watching her face contort with pleasure and needing to be inside her in the worst way. But Steve didn’t want to rush this, not when he finally had her in his arms.

He bent down to take her nipple into his mouth and wanted to shout with delight when she clenched her hands in his hair, urging him for more. He sucked and teased while molding her other breast and realized he’d been thrusting against her. “I need you,” he managed to say when he released her to breathe. “Take your clothes off,” she ordered. He pulled back and left the bed to disrobe, watching her do the same. They stood there, naked, just taking in the moment before reaching for each other. Steve felt her hot little hands on him, and he nearly lost it.

“Wait, wait.” He slid her hands from his cock to his chest and tried to breathe through the out-of-control lust. “Oh, you’re so hot. No wonder everyone wants you.” she teased. “Stop it, woman. You’re killing me. I’m trying to last.” He groaned. “Only good for one round then? Not living up to the hype, Harrington.” She continued to tease. “You are so asking for it.” He shoved her down to the floor on her knees, not so gently, only to hear her laugh. She smirked and reached for his erection proceeding to fondle him. He shook, so close to climax. Then she let him go, and he let out a breath, only to stare down at her leaning towards him with parted lips. “Fuck. Baby girl, either you put that mouth on me yourself and show Daddy how good of a slut you are, or Daddy’s gonna force you to take him down your throat. Either way I’m going to cum down your pretty little throat.”

“Promise?” She said looking up at him batting her eyelashes innocently and biting her lip. He groaned and pulled her hair forcing her head back before he forced her mouth onto his cock; his eyes closing at the feeling of her hot breath over his dick. Sam palmed his balls as he forced her to take his cock all the way down her throat. The feeling was indescribable, as if she surrounded him with everlasting warmth. He forced her to bob over him repeatedly until he came so hard he saw stars. He heard himself moaning, felt the release fill her mouth, and couldn’t stop from pumping between her lips. After he could think again, he withdrew, still semi-hard and catching his breath, gripping her shoulder so as not to fall over.

He watched her wipe her lips, first with her tongue then her finger. She stared up at him as she dragged that wet finger down her chin to her breasts, circling her nipples before continuing lower. Fed up with letting her lead him by the balls - because, Christ, she had - he lifted her in his arms and kissed her until she moaned his name. Then he placed her on the bed and spread her thighs wide, kneeling between them. “Go on baby doll, put on a show for Daddy.” Her eyes bright, her lips shiny, and her body taut, she slowly slid that hand between her legs. “That’s right. It’s your turn,” he purred, prepared to show the little brat just how much pleasure he could give her before she lost all control. “Good girl. It’s about time you followed a few orders from your superior.” He smirked then lost all sense of humor as her fingers got busy. ‘Oh, hell yeah.’

Sam had never been so turned on before. Seeing Steve's pleasure, knowing she'd given it to him, had been hotter than she'd imagined sex with him would be. She, Samantha Mayfield, had made Steve Harrington tremble. ‘Go me.’ But now, with Steve ordering her around? Wanting to watch her pleasure herself? "Oh, yes," she moaned, loving the intensity with which he stared. She stroked herself, so wet and hungry for him that she didn't have to work to build her arousal. The scent and feel of him did as much to pleasure her as her fingers did. He leaned over her and kissed her, his tongue in her mouth, invading, retreating, then coming back. Bringing her closer to her own climax.

He played with her breasts, and she got the feeling he loved them, because he didn't stop. His kisses moved from her mouth to her neck and then her nipples. He kissed and teethed, causing her to lose her damn mind, especially when he withdrew her hand from between her legs and took her fingers in his mouth. "So fuckin' sexy," he paused to mutter before drawing them back in. His mouth over her fingers could be felt all over her body, the pull of his thick erection once again dragged over her belly. Then the stubborn man trailed down her stomach to rest his head between her legs. He inhaled and snarled. "You smell so sweet."

"Steve... oh God." He kissed her clit, making love to it with his mouth. Sucking and licking, then using his thick fingers to stroke her folds before easing them inside her. The sensation of fullness made her light-headed, especially when he started fucking her with his fingers while feasting on her at the same time. She couldn't help being washed away by a tidal orgasm, shivering while he continued to lick. Her sensitivity grew, but he pushed past it, easing her into a deeper, fuller feeling of desire. She rocked against his face, needing more as much as she needed him to relent. But he didn't stop, and he caused her climax yet again too soon. He finally pulled away and smirked as he grabbed his cock in his hand and proceeded to stroke it. "See how big you make me, baby doll? This, this is going inside you."

Spreading her legs wider, sitting on his heels as he knelt between them, he drew her up to him and positioned himself at her entrance. "Watch me," he growled, then slowly eased his huge shaft inside her. They stared at the sight of his sheathed cock penetrating her until he was balls deep. The fullness was incredible, his snug fit locking him inside. "Fuck, that's good," he rasped, staring down at them. Then he rubbed her clit and started pumping, the cords of his abdomen in stark relief with each push and pull.

She quickly exploded and screamed, so lost she didn't sense him until he blanketed her body, pounding harder and faster, until he seized and groaned, pouring his release inside of her. Exhausted yet exhilarated, she stroked his arms, feeling him shake as he continued to jet inside of her. Such a big man with such a huge orgasm. She shifted under him and sighed, feeling another jolt of pleasure as he remained thick and firm inside of her. "Steve, just... wow."

"Yeah," he said on a breath, leaning over her. His eyes appeared darker; the brown barely discernable around the wide pupils. "You sucked all the life out of me, you little brat." He moaned and leaned down to kiss her, the connection still tight. She kissed him back, stunned and starting to realize just what she had allowed to happen. But too well pleasured, she couldn't worry about it. Recriminations would come later, she was sure. For now, she'd bask in her incredible lover, wondering if he could go for a third round. Well, just as soon as she got the energy to move again.

"Right now, breathing is about all I'm good for," he admitted, as if he could read her mind. "Um." She said softly blushing slightly. "I'll take that as an agreement." He chuckled as he closed his eyes and blew out a breath. "Fuck, you're tight. I don't want to move, but I think I need to." It didn't feel as if he'd lessened any, but when he withdrew, she could tell he'd started to soften. "Man, that's a lot of cum," he said as some of it seeped out of her. Suddenly he grinned sadistically at her in a way that made her shudder with ecstasy, "Guess that means you're gonna have my baby, sweetheart." And that's when she realizes, her eyes widening, he wasn't wearing a condom.

Taglist: @paranoidmunson @the-valkyrie-writes @goldenbrownanddistasteful @gag-me-munson @choke-me-eddie @joeschains

#stranger things #steve harrington #joseph keery #smut #angst

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

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earned it [06]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. attempted murder and suicide, angst ig i feel nothing at this point because NAOYA 😭

notes. i’m rolling with the earned it jokes that reader is shippable with everyone so HAH enjoy this chapter because I didn’t enjoy the last LMAO (IM SO EXCITED FOR TOJI TO APPEAR!)

series masterlist

Your muscles throbbed, the pounding of your heart felt even through your skin. You’ve spent hours in the training room, taking punch by punch, landing blow by blow – yet no matter how hard you tried, you kept falling on your ass. At this point, your backside was beyond sore, skin drenched with sweat and clothes sticking uncomfortably to the surface. Meanwhile, your ‘savior’ barely felt the need to catch his breath, instead gazing down at you with disappointment written all over his face.

“Why do you expect so much from me?” you panted, fists clenched on the mat. “Didn’t you tell me you just needed me to get your money back and that’s it? I didn’t ask for you to do anything so stop telling me I’m indebted to you all the time.”

Naoya clicked his tongue, clearly disappointed by your lack of resolve. Above you, he swept up his cane and finally balanced himself. You previously thought he didn’t struggle because he looked so calm and composed, easily overpowering you even with his injury, but his lips were strained, jaw clenched tight that perhaps he was just good at concealing his pain. It made you shut up and watch his every move; his back faced you – probably to hide whatever fleeting moment of vulnerability he had.

“I won’t always be there to save your sorry life,” he said calmly, “You need to learn how to be strong on your own no matter how tough it gets. Now if you’ll keep complaining instead of finishing your training, I could happily lock you up and force you to do my dirty work for me.”

“Then why don’t you go ahead?!”

“I don’t want to,” Naoya responded without missing a beat. He easily closed the distance with a few staggered steps, his head tilted to the side as he surveyed you.

You wondered what went through his mind. Did he see a weak woman? A woman who must be so helpless, so useless that you stayed there, legs too tired and muscles aching too much you couldn’t move? There was no telling with Naoya, and his guarded gaze didn’t help either. Satoru had always been difficult to read at most, but with Naoya – it was practically impossible.

Even as he cupped your chin and twisted it sideways, his eyes narrowed over all your features like he saw something you didn’t, he was too guarded.

“I need you in taking down Gojo Satoru. In order to accomplish that, I have to use his weakness against him. You showing up won’t be enough. No, I want to hurt him…and what better way than to take what was once his, right? Dangle right in front of his eyes what he let go of, make him regret his actions?” his smile turned dark, and for the first time since you’ve met him, you got a glance of what his heart really looked like.

It wasn’t true that Naoya was heartless – no, he just had a dark, sinister heart that didn’t beat the same tune as others. He played his own music with the bones of his enemies, drinking their lifeline from a gold cup and drowning in them, his ominous laughter the perfect antithetical melody of what could’ve been angelic hums.

“Don’t you want that?”

His question made your heart skipped a beat. This whole time, you’ve been so hell bent on achieving something, but what you wanted to reach had never been clear. You were too driven by emotions, by the pain Satoru’s absence had caused, and now that the opportunity was presented before you, you faltered.

“I don’t know what I want.”

“Well, if you ask me what I want…” he tilts your chin up with his finger “It would be to see you strong enough that even you would be capable of taking me down. So be strong, keep fighting – I’ll be there with you every step of the way. You only have one job, and that is to live. I am not allowing you to give up at the slightest of minor inconveniences.”

“And if I get weak?” you questioned with an oscillating tremor, the bite of his cold skin against your heated ones spiking. “If I want to give up? Would I fail you then?”

“I don’t think you’re someone who cares about failing others, so don’t fret whether you’d please me or not,” Just like that, Naoya’s scornful tone had risen again. He let go of you until you dropped down to your palms, blinking back at the sudden change of atmosphere. “Like I said, just do what you need to do, keep going. Don’t look back or be afraid to take the next big step because I’ll always be there right beside you.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“I’m not asking you to, princess,” he snickered, already half way to the door that only he was allowed to go in. Even though you’ve been staying in his manor for quite some time, there were still some things Naoya didn’t trust you with, leaving you only more curious to find out the secrets within.

“Only time will tell. But once you’ve made your decision, know that my ring is always waiting beside your table,” his voice echoed through the large room, stopping in his tracks to look at you once more. This time, he had no haunting features, only the cold emptiness likened to staring back to an infinite void of nothingness.

“I expect an answer when I get home.”

You still remembered the day you decided to wear his ring. Naoya had come then, tired and aggravated from matters he didn’t bother explaining. You stood on his doorway, lips shut tight as you nervously fiddled with your ring, unsure if whether you should tell him or allow him to piece the puzzle himself.

Thankfully, Naoya was a lot more observant than you gave him credit for.

His eyes slid over your face before he followed the motion of your fingers, smirking as the jewel glinted under the bright lights of his home. Wise choice, he’d once told you, and you believed it.

Your life hadn’t been the same ever since. Your spontaneous marriage equated to hellish training of perfecting your image as his trophy wife, spending hours in his secret laboratory and discussing business plans through a glass of wine. Naoya wasn’t around much to teach you everything and it pained him to be your own trainer too so you had to ask help from his guards, refusing to give up and fall down even as your muscles screamed at you to take a break. For Naoya, with Naoya, giving up and running away felt like a myth; a buried solution in the past that should never be brought up again. But now that he was gone, you did exactly that.

You’d given up. Satoru had made you run away.

“Miss,” a deep voice cut you from your thoughts. You tore your gaze away from the glowing night city of Milan to turn to Satoru’s right hand man, the tall figure looming rather shyly instead of imposingly. “You haven’t eaten since we got here. Would you like anything? Mr. Gojo will cover your expenses.”

“I want to go home.”

He froze at your deadpan statement. Finally meeting your gaze under his lashes, Geto pursed his lips. “You know we can’t do that, Miss. It’s unsafe back in Japan.”

“And who’s to say Toji won’t follow us here?” you snapped, pushing your weight off the Cleopatra set and uncrossing your legs. “Why can’t your stupid boss just activate the account and give it back to us? I think we’ve made it clear we’re more than capable of handling our finances, and I’m pretty sure Satoru doesn’t need any more money when he can afford all this.”

“Mr. Gojo…has his reasons for everything he does.”

You laughed bitterly. Maybe it was the fact that Satoru had left this morning for whatever business he had that you didn’t have anyone else to let your anger out to that you’d swiped your gun under your thigh holster and dashed his way.

Geto’s back slammed against the wall, the cool barrel of your gun pressed to his jaw. He swallowed nervously, eyes darting to your weapon, and you laughed heartlessly. “Oh, please, do tell because nothing makes sense,” you crooned, flipping the safety off and letting your heated gaze meet his rather docile ones. You almost felt bad for him. Almost.

“I could easily put a bullet through your head and hijack his plane. I’ll be gone before you know it and who’s to stop me from doing that? Why should I stay here any longer with you?”

“Because your husband asked you to,” Geto responded softly. You stepped back with wide eyes, yesterday’s event crashing all over you once again. He must’ve sensed you no longer held any hostility because he used his pointer finger to move the barrel away from him, gently peeling your hands off his suit. “Because you know, if you go back to Japan, there will be nothing waiting for you there.”

You balled your fists. “I will kill Fushiguro Toji myself. Then I’ll kill Satoru.”

“Even if he used to be your lover?”

“Especially because he used to be my lover.”

Okay…maybe your plan of escaping and returning to Japan hadn’t worked out that well. Exhaustion finally crept up to your senses that you passed out not long after attacking Geto – who reassured you to no end he wasn’t mad you tried to kill him – and days have passed ever since. You hated to admit it, but being stuck in an overseas hotel wasn’t so bad. Geto’s presence was a lot more comforting than his master’s that you didn’t mind having him watch your every move. Plus, he was really nice to immediately follow your every whim. You wanted hot chocolate? Extra pillows? A really expensive wine that you refused to pay for because you were petty and dramatic? He provided it all without question.

Except he probably should have, because you’d stripped off to your underwear, head tipped back to take one final swig of the nearly empty bottle as you slid deeper into the tub.

Your fiery nature of rolling your eyes at Satoru every time he came around (which was rare, for some reason) couldn’t fool anyone – not even yourself. The moment Geto retired to the living room, you would bite the pillows to muffle your cries, thinking back to when Naoya was still alive. It was an endless torment of what if you had stayed, what if you had pushed the rubble off him, what if you just saved him?

Would he still be alive? Would he have survived? Would you be back with him in the Zen’in Estate instead of holding your breath under the tub in a desperate attempt to conceal your tears?

It hurt so bad. It hurt everywhere.

Your lungs begged you to rise up and breathe, but you stayed still under the water, eyes shut tight and hands clenched around the tub’s edges so hard your knuckles turned white. Soon, you grew dizzy and your grip slipped away. Finally, fucking finally, you were falling, falling way too deep that your legs bent inside the tub. Bubbles erupted from your lips in one last breath. At the back of your mind, you let out a sincere laugh for you’d meet your husband soon. He’d be disappointed, probably scold you all the way to the afterlife – until strong arms pulled you out of the tub and into someone’s chest instead.

“Shit, what are you doing?! You could’ve drowned!”

You coughed out water and fisted Satoru’s button-up shirt that had now clung to his skin from the water. Looking around you, you were still very much alive, the uncomfortable twisting of your heart a painful reminder of that. Above you, Satoru sat you in his lap while he remained cross-legged on the floor, muttering curses under his breath as he wrapped a towel around you.

Scoffing, you pushed his hands away, though you kept the towel anyway to lessen your shivering. Why the fuck was the AC so damn strong here?

“Dying seems like a better option, don’t you think?” you snarled at him, teeth chattering from the chill that had begin to seep in.

Momentarily, you worried on how much of a hot mess you probably looked like. Smudged eyeliner, wine-stained lips, unbrushed hair and remnants of the wine mixing with the once clear bath water – you shook your head at the thought and glared at Satoru.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“I was out contacting friends to ask for help. We’re going to need a hundred pairs of eyes watching anywhere that Toji could possibly come through.”

“Is this your pathetic idea of ‘keeping me safe’? Locking me up in this stupid hotel and having your man watch me all the time?” you pushed yourself off him, the sudden motion of standing up giving you wobbly legs. Satoru reached over to steady you but you slapped his hand away, your glare warning him to not take another step.

Seeing his face, seeing him worried as if he didn’t just cause your life to turn into absolute hell, you wanted to grab the wine bottle and smash it right at his pretty face. He had no right to look at you with pity.

You hated him, utterly and terribly despised this man with your entire being.

“What are you really planning, Satoru? Why can’t we just come back home and attack Toji with all we’ve got? Why don’t you just give back our fucking money so we can end all this for once and for all and I can leave?!”

“Because I don’t have the money!”

“What?”

“The money…” Satoru’s back slid off the wall, his palm coming up to thread through his hair. He sounded weak, defeated. “I don’t have it.”

“Gojo,” you snatched him by the collar, teeth bared as you demanded, “What do you mean you don’t have it?”

Satoru paled. “When I stole the money from the Zen’ins, the figures were all fake. They’re not real, there’s no actual money hidden behind their accounts and it was too late before I realized that,” his lips trembled as he continued, “Whatever Toji placed in there, it’s not his actual account where he hides everything and it would make sense too because I stole it too easily – almost as if they wanted me to take it. A few hacks here and there and it was immediately wired to me but after meeting you…” Satoru shook his head, chin dropped down low. “I checked again and the account never existed. It’s a fake one. The digits are just there for show.”

“So then why would Toji want it? Why did my husband have to die for nothing?!”

“I don’t know, okay, I don’t know anything!” he argued back until your faces grew closer, his nose brushing with yours.

Somehow, you couldn’t pull away. His knees had drawn up, forcing you to rest on his thighs as you both breathed heavily, your grip on his collar almost havered.

“Whatever the Zen’ins are hiding, that’s beyond me. I may be in the business for far longer than they have, but they have always been notorious with their possessions that I’m not surprised even I can’t find where it really leads back to. Whatever Toji is hiding there, your husband must’ve known something about it. Why else would they fight tooth and bone over it?”

“If there was, Naoya would’ve told me about it.”

“He would if he trusted you,” Satoru suddenly grabbed your wrist and shook it until you stared at your ring. “How are you even so sure he could trust you with that information? Have you forgotten you’re just a pawn to his game and you’re nothing but a bed warmer?”

“Don’t you ever speak about us that way. You don’t know how much he cared for me.”

“If he really did, then why didn’t he tell you why his cousin is after you? He’s using you as bait, Y/N. I’m not the bad guy here. That man you’re so deeply in love with? I can’t guarantee he’s better than me. We’re all men in the mafia, love is the last thing we would care about.”

You pushed yourself off him.

His words stung too much, not because it was a lie, but because you know there was some sort of truth ringing behind it. You trudged out of the bathroom and sat on the bed, unstirred by the fact you dripped all over the carpeted floor. From behind you, Satoru’s rushed footsteps echoed, but you didn’t care. You simply threw on a robe with your back turned to him.

“And you’d know that better than everyone right? Considering how easy it was for you to leave me?” When Satoru didn’t respond, you chuckled humorlessly and sat on the bed. “What Naoya and I had…it was a friendship that healed my soul. I don’t…I don’t know what to do without him.”

“Friendship?”

You smiled sadly. “I wasn’t actually in love with him, idiot. Men like Naoya don’t know what love is, but he sure does know how to protect family.”

The notion of talking about him, of accepting that maybe he really was gone…somewhat reliving.

Satoru was the last person you wanted to talk to your late husband about, but Geto – which is the much better company – wasn’t around, and you hugged your knees to yourself, refusing to let Satoru see through your vulnerability.

“You know, I trusted him more than I did myself. He was always there for me, no matter what. His soul was dark, angry, corrupted – he’s not the man I would fall for, but despite all that, he was the friend I needed,” you buried your face in your knees, voice muffled as you cried, your heart shattering again and again and again.

The ring on your finger had never felt so heavy ever since you wore it.

“I loved him as much as I hated you.”

Satoru was silent, so much so that you wondered if he was even in the same room at all. You sat there crying, too hopeless to even try to conceal it anymore. Shivering, you close your eyes and forced the image of Naoya’s last moments away from your memories, desperately praying to whoever had mercy that you could just forget all about it.

“Geto told me you tried to kill him,” Satoru murmured after a beat, “You could’ve easily escaped and went back to Japan if you wanted to, so why didn’t you? Was it because of me?”

You remembered what you tried to do today.

Just like that, Naoya was alive once more. You were brought back to the day of your wedding when he’d clasped your sweaty, clammy hands in his, rubbing some warmth in them before pressing a kiss at the top of your knuckles. He’d asked you to promise him something then – an entire contrast from his constants orders over your well-being – and it was a promise you’d momentarily forgotten; a promise you’d broken out of mourning.

“Naoya once told me,” you reminisced through dry, cracked lips and even more shattered heart, the picture of his disappointment as clear as day. “Death was the only place he can go where he would never allow me to follow.”

It took a lot, but it somehow got better. After allowing yourself a faint moment of weakness where Naoya resurfaced in your mind to remind you of our promise and your purpose, you felt stronger, somewhat steadier with each step you took. You were still wary around Satoru, although that was a given.

His friend, Geto, was really nice, on the other hand, and you couldn’t explain why you always lowered your guard around the formal dark-haired assistant.

You and Geto were playing chess when Satoru barged in out of nowhere, a plate and a syrup condenser on his hand. “So I got you breakfast,” was his greeting, nodding at Geto once as a silent order to give you two privacy. You pouted as the latter left, but soon your attention had been diverted to the heavenly aroma filling in your senses. Seeing your approval, Satoru hid a smile behind his dark sunglasses. “Still like pancakes?”

“Trying to get into my good graces now?”

“I’m just trying to cheer you up.”

You rolled your eyes but snatched the plate from him anyway. “So I talked to my lawyer,” you begun, pouring syrup all over the fluffy bread until it was almost spilling to the sides. Beside you, Satoru’s snickers were barely muffled, to which you ignored wholeheartedly. “They’ve already processed my inheritance over Naoya’s possessions and assets. Once we return to Japan, I’ll be the next leader of the Zen’in Clan, much to the disappointment of his elders, of course, but they can’t do anything about it,” you informed him with your fork hanging in mid-air, the words falling thickly. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“That we’re back to being enemies?”

You offered him a sarcastic smile. “Naoya lied about strengthening his alliance with your family. He doesn’t actually give a fuck about you.”

“I figured that much,” he snickered to himself, shifting his weight until his elbows rested on his thighs. “Listen…a friend of mine is flying to Milan tonight to meet us. They have strong connections with banks all over the world and they brought in some information about that hidden Zen’in account. I think we’re finally getting off to somewhere and finding out what really is in there,” Satoru gauged for your reaction, but you kept eating – more like stuffing the pancakes inside your mouth for you were finally free of having to act perfect without your husband.

Satoru’s hand landed on top of yours. “I promise…I’ll give it back to right where it belongs. As soon as it’s wired back to you, I’m setting you free.”

You stared at the unwanted figure over you, and you snatched your hand back, waving a bread knife below his lashes. “You can’t set me free when I was never yours,” you sang breathily, the tip of the blade hovered right at his lips. Satoru raised a brow at you, but you quickly retrieved the knife back with widened eyes. “Now that you mention it…I think Naoya told me something about his family stashing secret weapons and even heirlooms through offshore accounts and buried under islands. He was a little sleepy during that time but I remember it,” pushing the plate away from you as you lost your appetite, you clutched your palms under your chin in thought. “He said he was looking for something he lost as a child, possibly an heirloom.”

“He’s doing all this for heirlooms?” Satoru immediately coughed his words back when you glared at him, raising his hands in surrender. “I mean, I was just saying. I didn’t think he was a sentimental type of guy.”

“The question here is what both Toji and Naoya could’ve both wanted from that account. It’s not just an heirloom, obviously there’s something there worth more than money,” You argued and slapped your knees, heading straight to your (unfortunately) shared room. “Whatever. I’ll get this over with as soon as I get the money back.”

Satoru, as always, was hot on your heels. It annoyed you how he trailed over you like some sort of puppy or shadow – Naoya had always been too classy to not give you space.

The difference between them just kept getting more and more uncannily obvious.

“Whoa there, stop. Did you really think I’d give back the money to you and that’s it? Are you forgetting the fact Toji is out there to kill you just so he can have his hands on it?”

“He can have the money for all I fucking care,” you shrugged and sat on your bed, scrolling through numerous piles of emails and records that Naoya entrusted you to keep. Surely you could find something. “I just need to find whatever Naoya’s spent his whole life killing for.”

“Why don’t you care about the money? Didn’t Naoya expect you to take over his business?”

Your thumb froze over a file. Suddenly, your throat grew dry, and you quickly flashed Satoru a stinky eye. “I-it’s not my main concern.”

“It’s not safe for you. If Toji finds out—”

Got it. You bookmarked an email Naoya had forwarded you around three years ago and resent it to an old friend, pocketing the phone back to your pyjamas before Satoru could see. “I’ll handle it. I’ve been doing well so far before you came into our lives again,” you finalized, stopping for a bit as you waited for that all-too familiar footfall matching with yours, only for the room to be coated in silence.

Satoru stood there on the other side of the room, eyes deep in thought before he sighed. “I’ll meet you at the hotel restaurant tonight. We have a lot to discuss on what our next move should be,” nodding once, Satoru left the room.

The hotel room was eerily silent.

Dinner came around faster than you expected. With Geto out to run some errands for Satoru, something about ‘establishing bases’ or whatever, you were locked in your room, using Naoya’s black card to get enough amount of clothing to last you for your stay here. Even though Satoru had promised he’d take care of everything, you didn’t want to be in his debt for any longer. You weren’t his, you were Naoya’s, and you shot down his curious looks when heaps of shopping bags had been delivered to your door.

An hour later, you left the room, struggling to zipper the back of your dress. Satoru was already in the living room buttoning up his suit jacket, just as handsome as ever (though you’d never tell him that.)

His hands froze in the last button once his eyes landed on you, and you huffed at him, too distressed to even act cute or bothered while pointing to your dress. Satoru strode to you in three long steps, his cold fingers brushing against the dip of your spine when he clutched on the zipper.

You had to bite your lip down to prevent the shivers from spilling through, his lips dangerously close to your ear as he whispered, “You look great.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

If Satoru was bothered by the lack of sincerity in your voice, he didn’t comment on it. He removed his hands from you and watched as you slipped black velvet gloves through your arms – just in case you had to end up killing someone; leaving fingerprints was a risk you couldn’t take.

“Did you really get dressed to kill?”

“I came here to negotiate,” you corrected, “I’ll do everything I can to find out whatever’s behind that offshore account. And you, sir,” Frowning at him, you pulled Satoru closer by the tie, perhaps a little too harshly since he nearly knocked his head with yours. He was quick to steady himself as you fixed his tie, flattening it down with your fingers. “You need to know where you should stick your nose in. This is more my business than yours so don’t get in my way acting all hero and shit. I assure you I can handle myself.”

“You’re really going to berate me for worrying about you?”

“You can no longer worry about me,” you disclosed, snatching your black purse from the counter before doing the come hither motion at his shock-still figure. “Now let’s go. We have a case to crack.”

“Case to crack? You sure sound like a detective.”

You snickered, but made no further comment. The elevators dinged and you arrived at the restaurant, which you really regretted not visiting soon enough because the place was grand. Red carpeted floors, golden chandeliers, soft jazz music playing in the background as the lights dimmed down low, the faint clinking of utensils against plates and light chatter of the guests so heartbreakingly nostalgic.

It seemed that even after his death, Naoya had every intention to never leave your side. The setting reminded you too much of your never-ending late night fancy dinners.

Naoya being Naoya, he didn’t blink twice in flaunting his money and renting out entire restaurants all for himself, claiming that he just ‘wanted to have an intimate moment with his wife.’ Sure, it mostly consisted of you discussing what move you should make next, but it was the most affectionate gesture you’ve received after spending years in the quiet and cold environment of the Zen’in Estate.

The outside world wasn’t any better when you and Naoya were marked as targets by the entire government, so it made sense, that only with him that you’d find comfort in.

You must be so out of it you never even noticed Satoru leading you to your seat, a warm meal that should’ve been comforting right under your nose. It was too much – too similar that you headed straight for the wine, ignoring Satoru’s questioning gaze. You noticed from the corner of his eye that he opened his mouth too many times in an attempt to make light conversation, but this dinner wasn’t for you to rekindle your old flame.

No, you were here to wait for his ‘friend’ and review important matters. You were determined to fulfill that purpose alone and only that alone that you never once made eye contact with him, even standing up to reach the salt shaker near him instead of asking him to pass it.

Just as you leaned back to your seat, the music grew louder. A foreign man walked to the stage where he was basked in the spotlight, all heads turning to him when he tapped the microphone, sending little echoes all over the hall. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s loosen up tonight with a drink and bring our lovers out here on the dance floor,” he sang while swaying side to side, snapping his fingers to the beat that had turned into calming to sensual. “It is a fine evening, isn’t it? Come on, don’t be shy, the night is still so young!”

You dropped your fork beside the plate. “Did you know about this?”

“I swear, I had no idea.”

“Those two attractive lovers in table 42, the dance floor is still much too spacious!”

“Pretty vulgar for a five star hotel,” you commented under your breath and dabbed the pasta sauce off your lips with a napkin, slapping it down the table as you stood up – much to Satoru’s surprise who’d tried to make himself invisible from the host’s eyes. Stupid him; did he really think he could blend in with his sunglasses and snow white hair?

If you were to be honest, you’d rather choke on shrimp than dance with him, but you had an image to upkeep. If you couldn’t gather with the crowd and pretend to be one with others, both your true natures would be fished out even with innocent eyes. You were left with no choice but to be comfortable in the dance floor, sighing deeply as you placed your hands down on Satoru’s wide shoulders. He furrowed his brows at you but said nothing else; strong, cautious hands sliding down from your back before they settled at the curve of your hips.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Mister. I won’t hesitate to stab a fork through your jugular right here.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I know you’re not my little angel anymore.”

Angel. It was what he used to call you back then – when you were still but an innocent, naïve being who never believed in monsters until you fell for one.

He was right; you were no longer his angel. The woman he loved had been left abandoned in the street, the purity of her soul tainted with anger and heartbreak that soon bathed in blood and the need for revenge. His angel was no more – the woman he danced with was nothing but a replica of the face and body he adored the most. Now, you danced with him, not as his angel and neither as his rival’s wife, but simply as a woman whose kindness had long vanished into thin air.

Satoru danced with the devil.

And he should be disgusted just as you should be repulsed with how sickeningly smooth and graceful he was in everything he did, but the wine – yes, it was the fucking wine – messed with you that you actually enjoyed it. Your bodies moved in rhythm and syncopated with the beat, the romantic high notes of the violin and the tender embrace of deep trebles like a classical painting coming to life and you were its subjects to be expressed.

Perhaps…you were just sad. You grieved and mourned too much you’d momentarily forgot what love was, in turn making you forget what it felt like to be constantly unsafe and peeking over your shoulder in case someone tried to kill you.

Satoru just felt so warm, so safe and alive that you found your head dipping lower, your muscles relaxing around his soothing and undeniably tender touch, the space between your bodies diminishing until you surrendered to the power of your desire. You were so close, your ear about to press on his chest to listen to the blissful sound of someone’s reassuring heartbeat along with the music, and then you saw him.

A tuft of blonde hair, a chiseled face, a nude cream suit and a deep blue shirt beneath – what the fuck was he doing here?

The spell was broken in an instant.

Satoru must’ve been under the same trance for his hand trailed lower to pull you closer, your chests grazing with one another before you placed your palm flat on his body, lips thinned into a grim look that resonated with the sick, twisting feeling in your guts.

“I,” you croaked out, clearing your throat when it went dry. “I need to go to the ladies.”

You left Satoru without another word, bunching your dress up to run to where he had disappeared. He was still walking coolly and inspecting the paintings hung in the empty lobby with faux interest – although knowing him, the bastard probably did enjoy classical pieces and studied about them in his free time; which he didn’t have much to begin with.

As if sensing your presence, he stopped right in front of a replica of The Sleeping Venus, his hands dug deep in his pockets. “The shape of being is the visual demonstration of a state of being in which idealized existence is suspended in immutable slow-breathing harmony. All the sensuality has been distilled off from this sensuous presence, and all incitement; Venus denotes not the act of love but the recollection of it. The perfect embodiment of Giorgione’s dream, she dreams his dream herself,” he narrates in his baritone voice, “A little cordial, is it not?”

You took your gun out from your thigh holster and lowered it right at the back of his skull. “Don’t move another inch.”

“No need to be so hostile in a public setting, Y/N. I’m only here to look out for you and making sure you’re not forgetting who you are. Killing me isn’t part of the plan.”

“Neither was murdering my husband,” you growled, pushing the barrel harder against him, though the man didn’t budge before you. “I know that it wasn’t Toji who set off the bomb, Kento, you did.”

“We simply saw an opportunity that couldn’t be wasted. Two notorious mafia leaders in an unsuspecting supposed safe environment?” The fact he didn’t even deny it left you speechless. Kento spun around until your gun rested between his eyes, and he languidly pushed his glasses up his high nose as he looked down on you. “We could’ve killed two birds with one stone had you not been in the way.”

“You guys are out to kill me too now?”

“Don’t act too surprised. The Organization isn’t patient enough to wait for both leaders to die.”

“So you killed my husband?!” you argued, “He was my friend, I told you not to touch him!”

“Only in the exchange that you hand him to us,” Kento echoed, jogging your memory until you were kept up to date. “But it’s been five years and what has happened so far? You’re fraternizing with the enemy and even manufacturing drugs for your so-called husband. Now that he’s dead, you’re here in Italy, looking as stunning as ever as you wine and dine with a former lover,” Kento tilted his head to the side to study your appearance – smiling at how you seemed too bright and fashionable for a woman in supposed mourning.

“I hardly believe you’re actually affected by this at all.”

“How dare you! I’ve proven to no end my loyalty of the higher-ups!”

Kento didn’t bat an eye at your outburst. If anything, he stepped closer to your weapon. “Kill me if you wish, Y/N, but know the moment you put a bullet in my head, the Organization will place you on the same pedestal as Naoya’s and Gojo’s. I wouldn’t recommend such methods considering we’re already at unease on whose side you’re really on. If you do this, you will be our enemy.”

“I did everything for the Organization. What else would you want from me?”

“The contract was easy. We want both leaders – whether dead or alive – in our custody. If you don’t hold your side of the deal, it’s not only your life that we’ll take from you,” Kento pulled out a red coin that made your heart sink deep into your stomach for it served as a threat over the consequences of your actions.

He lowered your gun with the coin and smirked at you, his lips right beside the shell of your ear as he purred, “I suggest you be careful with what step of action you take next.”

“Oi, Nanami, you’re here!” Satoru’s voice suddenly boomed in the hallway. Nanami was as unbothered as ever from taking a step away from you, nodding to your gun which you quickly concealed right before Satoru arrived. You were frozen – rendered immobile with the flashing red metal from his palm – that you couldn’t even protest against Satoru wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I see you’ve met Mrs. Zen’in already.”

“Hmm, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Madam,” taking your hand in his, Kento’s eyes were nothing but eerie as he kissed your knuckles. “Shall we start our discussion?”

SUKI RANTS! Nanami quoted Sydney Joseph Friedberg (an art critic) in one of his dialogues. A little backstory on the painting was that the portrait was originally made by Giorgone, who had a student and also his lover (if I’m not mistaken) called Titian. Giorgone never finished the portrait because he died from the plague but Titiane finished it for him, symbolizing that Y/N still has a mission that connected her from Naoya even after his death and she has to finish something he started. The portrait is of a nude woman that symbolized oneness of nature and that the woman isn’t posed for the gaze of men, but rather they are dreaming, hence the quote: “Venus denotes not the act of love but the recollection of it. The perfect embodiment of Giorgione’s dream, she dreams his dream herself.” Nanami said the painting’s meaning resonated with Y/N’s situation too much since she wasn’t in love with Naoya, but she had a recollection of their moments that still represented their relationship, and that Naoya’s dream (goals) are also shared by Reader. I was gonna ask you guys what your theories are on that scene but I think this makes me sound cooler if I explain it so *lip bite emoji because I’m still broken over Naoya’s death*

taglist open (lmk if you want to be added/removed):

@sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @asshxcm @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn @90s-belladonna @tinyfrogsinmybrain @kinekyuroo @evesmores @ambiguous-something @lilith412426 @kakashiharusohma @aizawap @yumeneji @dora-the-grownup @jotazinha @themrsgojo @d34r-s4t4n @marai-t @toji-bee @hai-cool @badsadbby @stesphy @peach-buns-unicorns @misslezah @gracefullyfallinglikeanime @iwaplant @mikiminaccch @riri-marley | bolded users cannot be tagged

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years ago

Text

All Men Have Limits - VII

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,500+

Warning: Mention of domestic violence

Previously on…

“The Court is holding session two weeks from now,” Y/N announced to the group.

“How do we know they’re going through with it after all the recent attention?” Damian challenged.

“They haven’t missed one in over over 20 years.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Dick asked.

Y/N took in a deep breath, “We need a diversion.”

“Diversion?” Jason asked.

She nodded. “The Court has two kinds of protection: the Talons and then the protection they either buy or blackmail. The Talons are at every meeting, making sure nothing goes down and protecting The Court.”

Y/N eyed all of them before continuing – except for Bruce. The two of them hadn’t spoken since their argument, and Y/N hadn’t so much as acknowledged him.

“We need to do something to drag the Talons away from The Court – something big,” Y/N clarified.

“Like what?” Tim asked.

She didn’t say anything. Instead she just awkwardly shifted her weight.

“No,” Dick shut down, being the first to put it together.

“It’s the only way,” she countered.

By now the rest of them had figured out that Y/N wished to put herself in danger once again.

“They almost killed you,” Dick started to get heated.

“Yeah, and they’re even more anxious to kill me after the trouble we caused them. We all know it. The quickest way to get the Talons out of hiding is to dangle me in right front of their faces. Make it so easy that they can’t say no.”

They all went quiet.

“It’s a good idea,” Jason broke the silence.

Jason wasn’t one to beat around the bush. He was brutally honest. Also, he wasn’t scared of a risk.

Dick glared at him.

But to his surprise, so did Bruce.

“We don’t use our own as bait,” Bruce finally spoke for the first time.

But he wasn’t even looking in Y/N’s vicinity.

That didn’t stop Y/N from rolling her eyes at ‘our own,’ as if she were actually treated the same as everyone in this family.

“Fine,” she snapped. “So what’s your genius plan for getting the Talons away from The Court and where we want them?”

Bruce was quiet, but clearly because he was thinking.

“B, we only have two weeks to get this together,” Dick tried to reason.

Y/N just continued, “While we’re distracting the Talons, the FBI and Gotham PD can raid The Court’s meeting. Security will be at an all-time low and they won’t be able to fight their way out with the distraction of a Talon defense.”

“We can think of another way,” Bruce said. Then he addressed all boys, “We’re heading out for patrol in 15.”

Dick stood up to join them.

To everyone’s shock Y/N and Bruce simultaneously said, “You’re staying here.”

Dick’s brow furrowed. “I’m fine.”

“You’re still injured,” Y/N argued. “You’re stitches aren’t even out yet.”

“You’re staying here with Y/N,” Bruce added on.

Tim, Damian, and Jason all looked at each other in amusement from seeing Bruce and Y/N gain up on Dick.

Bruce muttered out radiuses at the other three boys for patrolling.

“Just to be clear, I’m going back to being a lone wolf when this Court of Owls bullshit is over with,” Jason announced. “But I have to admit, the drama is entertaining.”

“Aww! Come on, J! You know you love the quality family time,” Tim teased.

“I personally can’t wait for him to go away,” Damian mumbled.

“Do you know what a swirly is?” Jason asked the youngest boy.

“No.”

“Do you want to find out?”

Damian looked at Tim for some kind of hint. But Tim just aggressively shook his head in warning.

“Enough,” Bruce warned, but he wasn’t all that annoyed.

When they all left for patrol, Y/N walked to her computers.

“What are you doing?” Dick questioned.

She gave him a look, “Uhhh…doing my job?”

“You did your job,” he countered. “Give yourself a break.”

Y/N knew he was technically right. She already had everything they needed to show the FBI and Gotham PD in order to take down The Court of Owls. Now they just had to wait – even if Bruce wasn’t on board with Y/N’s plan on playing bait.

“Plus,” Dick smirked. “I need someone to entertain me.”

She playfully glared at him. “Oh, I see. So this isn’t about me needing a break. It’s about you needing attention.”

He had no shame. “Maybe.”

Y/N shook her head at his ridiculous, but couldn’t hide her smirk.

“How about I teach you some self defense?” Dick offered.

“Dick! What part of ‘you’re recovering’ is so hard for you to understand?”

He had the audacity to laugh at her reaction. “Fine. Fine. But you should learn a few things at some point.”

Then Dick started walking to the training area, specifically where all the gymnastics equipment was.

Y/N hadn’t seen anyone using it while she was down there, but she assumed it was mostly for Dick.

Without warning, Dick did a press handstand mount on the balance beam, and then he held the handstand.

“Dick! Stop!” Y/N said in a panic.

And she did exactly what he wanted, leaving her computer and walking down to where he was on the balance beam.

“What?” He shrugged as he now stood on the balance beam. “It’s just a handstand. Relax.”

“I swear to god, Dick Grayson, if you do a fucking flip on that thing…”

“You’ll what?” He challenged with a smirk. “Come up here and stop me.”

Y/N crossed her arms and glared at him. “Fine. I will.”

Dick was beaming from his success.

Y/N might not be a gymnast or a vigilante the same way as all of them, but she wasn’t completely hopeless when it came to athletics. She managed to lift herself up enough to sit on the balance beam.

However, standing up was an entirely different thing.

“Fuck,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

“You got it,” Dick encouraged.

But he was still walking across towards her as if the thing was a runway.

“Have these things always been this fucking narrow? I thought it was like width of bleacher seats.”

Dick chuckled as he offered her a hand.

“I got you. Come on,” he urged her softly.

Y/N slowly stood on the balance beam, but gripped Dick’s hands tightly.

“I have some newfound respect,” she laughed lightly as she looked down at their feet.

“Harder than it looks,” Dick agreed.

“Do you think you could’ve gone to the Olympics?” Y/N genuinely asked.

He shrugged, “Who knows. Probably not.”

But Y/N knew he was most likely being modest.

Then Dick let go of her hands to grip her waist, “Try walking.”

“I feel like we’re in Dirty Dancing. You know, like the scene where they’re working on lifts and walking across the log in the woods.”

He smiled.

Y/N lost her balance a little bit and panicked.

But Dick’s grip on her waist was strong. “You’re OK. I got you.”

It was hard to focus on balancing and walking when his gentle voice said things like that to her, making her stomach drop and her heartbeat quicken.

And it all proved to be too much when Y/N really lost her balance and there was no stopping her from falling. She shoved into Dick too hard, making him lose his grip as well.

But as they fell, Dick quickly maneuvered their bodies so he took the fall and caged her body protectively.

Y/N instantly sat up in hysterics.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Are you OK?” Y/N cried out as her eyes went down to where he still had stitches, half expecting blood to be on his t-shirt from the wound reopening.

But Dick was laughing his ass off.

“It’s not funny!” She slapped his chest.

“I’m not made of glass, Y/N.”

She couldn’t keep her own amusement in check much longer and started laughing along with him.

But then Dick’s phone lit up and vibrated beside them. It must’ve fallen out of his pocket when they fell.

Y/N didn’t mean to look. She really didn’t. But her eyes couldn’t stop from reading the name ‘Barbara Gordon’ on the screen.

Her smile dropped for some reason.

But Dick didn’t see the problem.

He casually reached over and looked at the message.

Y/N moved off of Dick. “Texting your ex?”

Dick narrowed his eyes at the framing of her question. “Do you know every woman I’ve ever dated?”

She smirked at that. “Maybe.”

“Yes, I am. She’s a friend.” He tilted his head. “Don’t you stay in touch with any of your exes?”

Y/N shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t really have any ex-boyfriends. Just…” she hesitated, “people I’ve hooked up with or whatever.”

Dick nodded slowly.

“Why hasn’t she been around?” Y/N changed the subject quickly.

“She’s been working her own case – had to go undercover for awhile.”

She nodded. But wasn’t looking at him as they talked now.

“You know…just because that’s what’s happened in the past doesn’t mean that it always has to be that way,” he told her quietly.

“Easy for you to say.”

Dick winced a bit. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her gaze finally moved up from the floor to his. “You’re a serial monogamist. Being in relationships is easy for you.”

“That’s what you think of me?” Dick couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice. “You think I don’t know how to be alone?”

“I didn’t say that,” she quickly defended.

“But that’s what you were implying.”

Y/N got up from the mats and started to leave.

“No. Don’t do that,” Dick caught her arm.

“Do what?” She challenged as she pulled her arm away from him.

“Don’t make up problems that don’t exist, Y/N.”

She huffed at that.

“Yeah, I’ve been in serious relationships for most of my life. Not because I didn’t know how to be alone, but because I loved them.” He shook his head. “I know men have treated you like shit, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do the same.”

“What are we even talking about, Dick?” She shot back.

How did they get from messing around on a balance beam to discussing their non-existent relationship?

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. You’re one of the smartest people I know. Act like it.”

It wasn’t until now that Dick saw how Bruce and Y/N were similar. He’d never met anyone else that could push people away like they did. But it was clear they both thought it was easier and less complicated to isolate themselves.

Maybe that’s why they gravitated toward each other. Like if the faced it together than they were cheating their way out of their own rules.

Except Dick couldn’t help but wonder what Y/N’s life could look like with someone who really loved her, who showed her that she didn’t have to face the world alone. Obviously he wanted to be that person for her. But his ego wasn’t too proud to allow someone else to do that for her. Even if it hurt like hell.

“Dick, I can’t–”

But he didn’t let her say another word, and his lips crashed against hers.

She tried to be stubborn and pull away, but he wasn’t letting her get away.

Dick deepened the kiss. This wasn’t like the night of the gala. It wasn’t innocent and soft. No, this was filled with fire and infatuation.

Dick wasn’t being polite anymore. His hands slipped under her t-shirt to grasp her waist, needing to feel her and refusing to allow fabric between his touch and her skin.

Maybe he was trying to prove something to Y/N now.

But just when Y/N was about to push it further, Dick pulled away.

Their lips were both swollen.

And he kept close to her, tempting her with another kiss – but not giving in.

“You don’t want to talk about it? Fine.” His voice was raspy.

Eventually he’d push her to talk about them. For now, he’d let her figure things out.

“But don’t convince yourself that I’m no one to you.”

———————

Y/N couldn’t sleep.

Her mind was restless.

She knew Dick had been right: she was trying to point out issues that didn’t exist, picking unnecessary fights.

Getting Dick frustrated was a great way to stop herself from actually reflecting on how she was starting to feel about him.

Instead of tossing and turning in bed, Y/N decided to go to the library. She hadn’t spent much time there – too busy practically living in cave. But it had intrigued her since she arrived. It was so beautiful, and even large enough to hide in.

She was a hour or so into a book she grabbed from the shelves when someone cleared their throat.

Y/N jumped in fright and looked up to see Bruce leaning against one of the book shelves.

His hair was wet and he was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. Clearly he’d just taken a shower.

“You’re back early,” she noted.

It wasn’t even 4AM yet.

“Quiet night. The boys had patrolling handled.”

She just nodded and went back to her book.

But Bruce’s presence made it impossible for her to even focus enough on the words to keep reading. So, she faked it.

“I owe you an apology.”

Her stare snapped up.

“I should not have spoken to you the way I did.”

Y/N was silent.

“It was unfair, and I was mistaken. I apologize.”

Y/N watched him for a moment before saying, “Apology accepted.”

She expected him to leave after that. He’d checked his little box. Now they could both move on.

“I was scared,” Bruce confessed. “That I was going to find you dead. And then I was scared Dick would lose it and…” His words died out.

“Well… you hid that very easily.”

“I have to.”

“I know. But you don’t realize how frustrating that can be for other people.”

Bruce sighed and frowned. “I understand.”

Y/N finally put her book down and got up from the love seat to slowly walk to where Bruce was standing.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” she apologized softly. “And I’m sorry for scaring you. I was only doing what I thought was right.”

Bruce didn’t even realize what he doing until he pulled Y/N into his arms and felt her bury her face into his chest and hug him back. He tightened his hold around her, breathing in her hair.

Y/N was surprised by his hug, but she was grateful for it.

She closed her eyes and breathed him in. It was either his body wash or his cologne, but Bruce always smelled like musk and wood. Y/N was rarely close enough to smell it this well. But when she did, it instantly soothed her.

“Why are you up so late?” Bruce asked when they finally pulled away.

Y/N let out a long sigh, “Just couldn’t sleep.”

“Come on. I’ll make you some tea.”

“You do not know how to make tea,” she answered while trying not to laugh.

“I am not as hopeless in the kitchen as you’d imagine,” he told her with a smirk.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she replied, as she followed him downstairs.

True to his word, Bruce made Y/N lavender tea, making it just as Alfred had taught him as a child.

He gave her a smug smirk when he handed her one of the mugs and saw how surprised she was by him.

Y/N never expected he would linger.

But an hour later, they were still sitting on the barstools at the island.

The conversation was slow, but light.

Now that Y/N had spent so much time with the family, she mostly talked about the boys with Bruce, asked him questions about each of them.

It was easier for him to talk about them than himself – or them.

Little did Bruce know, Y/N was learning so much more about him from the way he talked about all of them.

Bruce was subtle, but Y/N could tell how proud he was of all of them – even Jason, who he had a tumultuous relationship with. He loved them with all his heart, even though he was terrible at showing it.

“Damian’s the only one who still lives here. Tim has a penthouse in the city. And Dick is constantly jumping around place to place. But it’s been...nice having them around so much recently,” Bruce admitted with hesitation.

“And what about Jason?” She asked. “He never seems to stay here.”

Bruce hid his sadness and disappointment well, but Y/N could still see it.

“I’m lucky Jason even speaks to me,” he answered darkly. “He tends to like his space and prefers to…keep to himself.”

She nodded, not forcing the subject more.

But then her eyes got a glimpse of the clock. And she looked inside her now empty mug. How long ago did she finish it?

“I should probably attempt to get at least a couple hours of sleep,” she murmured as she got up from the stool.

Bruce nodded, and did that thing where men stand up as soon as a woman does.

No matter how many times he did it, Y/N was always caught off guard by it.

“Thank you for the tea,” her voice was so quiet, but sincere. She smiled, “I’m sorry for ever doubting your skills.”

He grinned and watched her leave.

But when Y/N reached the edge of the kitchen she turned around. “If I asked you a question, would you answer truthfully? And I mean really answer.”

Bruce observed her for a few seconds.

He knew she deserved his honesty.

They constantly answered each other’s questions with questions. It was like a dance – or a fight – which one probably just depended on the day.

He nodded.

“It’s okay if I am. Really, it is.” She took a short inhale. “But was I just another one of Bruce Wayne’s conquests?”

The desperation for honesty was so clear in her face and voice. If he said ‘yes,’ it would hurt her, but she would get over it. After all, that’s what she’d been assuming all this time.

Bruce did not have the words. Furthermore, he saw this for what it was: the two of them approaching dangerous territory.

But he owed her this.

Bruce didn’t break her stare as he carefully shook his head.

“Goodnight, Bruce.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

——————

LATER THAT NIGHT/EARLY MORNING…

Bruce knew Dick would be in the gym in the manor.

Everyone trained in the cave, so Dick knew no one would find him there. And he could workout in peace without being reprimanded about resting and being cautious about his injuries.

Dick had been sprinting on the treadmill when Bruce walked in.

When he spotted his entrance in the mirror, Dick stopped the machine.

He was dripping in sweat, proving that he’d been training hard – too hard for his condition.

Wonder where he learned that from…

“What’s up?” Dick asked as he wiped his face with a towel.

“I had a feeling you weren’t resting,” Bruce said as he crossed his arms.

“I’m fine,” Dick shot back.

But he did a double take when he realized how deep in thought Bruce seemed to me. He was staring off, an extremely unusual thing for him.

“Bruce?” Dick asked with concern.

“Y/N’s parents abused her,” Bruce told him firmly all of the sudden. “Her father was an alcoholic – beat her and his wife. Her mother emotionally and mentally terrorized her. After running away countless times, Y/N was finally able to emancipate herself at 16.”

Dick’s entire body froze. “How do you know that?”

“She told me.”

Bruce didn’t mean to sound smug.

But Dick still took it that way.

“For obvious reasons, she didn’t go into great detail. But I filled in the blanks with research – though she’s hid her past well, as you can imagine. She was homeless after that. Broke in where she could. Tried to stay off the streets. Even dressed like a boy for safety.”

Dick felt sick as he listened. Stories like this were all too familiar to their family.

“One day, she saw someone coding on their computer at a coffee shop. She had always overachieved at computer science in school, and it intrigued her. As you and I both know, she caught on rather quickly.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because she’s not going to,” Bruce replied as if it’s obvious.

Dick scowled, still not putting together the deeper meaning. They had never shared a conversation like this before. And it was confusing him.

Was Bruce trying to shove his past with Y/N in Dick’s face?

“I was the first person she ever shared her past with,” Bruce said slowly. “And it took me far too long to realize that I mishandled her trust. I did not deserve it.”

Dick could see the regret on Bruce’s face as he spoke.

But Dick finally understood what Bruce was actually trying to tell him: ‘If she does you the same honor, don’t you dare make the same mistake I did.’

“I understand,” was all Dick responded with.

Bruce gave a curt nod.

“Need I remind you that the cave has cameras?”

Bruce saw them kiss. But little did he know, it wasn’t their first.

Dick only quirked an eyebrow as if it say, ‘So? What of it?’

-----------

Part 8

Guys, I was 30 minutes early. You’re welcome.

I want to point out that Y/N’s dark past was always part of the story. But I avoided actually including it because I am not a fan of fanfic writers often romanticizing abuse or mental health issues or other serious matters. I just want everyone to know that I take things like this seriously and I’m not just using them as a plot point.

So here is a resource if you or someone you know is a victim of domestic violence.

#all men have limits #all men have limits part 7 #bruce wayne x reader #Bruce Wayne x reader x dick Grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick Grayson x reader x Bruce Wayne #dick grayson reader insert #bruce wayne reader insert #batboys #batfam #batman x reader #nightwing x reader

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deanstead · 4 years ago

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Toxic

Pairing: Will Halstead x HalsteadSister!Reader x Jay Halstead

Requested by anon: hi! can i request a halsteads x sister reader fic, she’s dating someone toxic and jay and will can see that but she won’t let them help her out and keeps dismissing their concerns, until one day she turns up at jays door sobbing and he calls will and it’s all fluff after that? i hope that makes sense, i love your writing 💓

Warnings: mention of toxic relationship, angst, fluff

A/N: Thanks for the request, hope you like what I did with this!! Always glad to hear from all of you, so please hit up my ask/replies to tell me what you think! Requests and taglists remain open, you can send me an ask anytime! Hope you guys like this!

---

“Y/N, listen…” Will spoke, causing you to turn to look at him.

You sighed. “Guys, you’re overreacting.”

Will threw a glance at Jay, which you caught. “Y/N, we’re concerned.” Jay stressed.

You shook your head, smiling. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve stopped seeing your friends, haven’t you?” Will asked, a little accusingly. You swallowed, “I’ve been busy.”

“You mean Mark’s been keeping you busy.” Will shot back.

You didn’t answer him. Maybe there was a part of you that knew that your brothers were right, but you loved Mark and you didn’t see why it was wrong that the two of you just wanted to spend time with just each other.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” You snapped.

Jay rolled his eyes. “Only because Mark probably knows we’d have more than a thing or two to say otherwise.” He muttered to Will.

“I heard that.” You glared at Jay.

Jay sighed, “Look, can you just hear me… hear us out?”

You hesitated, you knew what they were going to say and you weren’t exactly sure you wanted to hear it. You crossed your arms in front of you. “Hit me.”

“You’ve stopped meeting your friends, you go with his moods and decisions almost all the time, we’ve barely seen you and that’s saying something.” Jay said, glancing at you, trying to read your reaction. “You’re not supposed to be tiptoeing around him all the time.”

Will sighed, “You’ve always been strong and independent, how is it that you’re letting him make all these decisions for you now?”

You sighed. “I appreciate you guys looking out for me, but I’m an adult, I know what I’m doing.”

Will looked like he was about to argue but Jay tugged his arm and shook his head. “Just promise me one thing.”

You looked up.

“Don’t shut us out.” Jay said, a look of genuine concern passing his face.

You smiled. “I would never.”

---

So you had said. But it had been at least three weeks since your brothers had last seen you, which was unusual.

The three of you had been thick as thieves since you were young, almost joined at the hip. Everyone thought the three of you would grow out of it but you didn’t. The longest you’d been apart was when Jay had enlisted but he had come right back and it was as if he had never left.

Even when you all had crazy schedules, you saw each other almost every other day.

Until now.

Jay sighed, as he took out a can of beer from his fridge and glanced at his phone. He was worried about you but apart from repeating everything he had said before, he was out of options.

A couple of raps on the door made Jay look up, glancing at the clock automatically, wondering who it was.

He swung open the door and froze at the sight in front of him.

“Jay…”

Your face was tear-streaked, your voice shook a little and he could tell you’d been crying. “Y/N? What’s going on?”

You looked down again but Jay ushered you in. “Hey, come here kid.”

Jay pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you in that protective way he used to back when you were young and you had had a nightmare. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, Jay. I’m sorry.” You sobbed but Jay just held you tighter as the both of you stood in the doorway, until your sobs slowly died down and you were breathing evenly.

Jay quietly led you further into his apartment, navigating around the coffee table and to the couch. “I’ll be right back.”

Jay glanced at you sitting on the couch and felt a wave of rage. If he could, he’d drag Mark’s ass here and pound on him. Instead, he took a deep breath, grabbed his phone and dialed Will’s number.

“My place. Now. It’s Y/N.” Jay said, the moment Will answered the phone.

“On my way.” Will responded, without a beat of hesitation.

---

Will had practically flown here, flying past Jay the moment the door was open and heading straight for you on the couch.

“You okay?”

You didn’t respond but Will pulled you into a hug anyway, as Jay sat back down next to you.

“I’m sorry.” You said, the guilt once again rising up inside of you. You saw Will furrow his brow slightly. “What?”

“I said I wouldn’t shut you out. I promised... and I just… I…” You wrung your hands together.

Jay shook his head. “Y/N, we’re not mad.” You raised your head to look at him. “What happened?”

You paused, looking at your brothers. You didn’t know how you deserved them at all.

“You were right. I should have listened to you.” You whispered, tears pooling in your eyes again. You had been so convinced that Mark was the best thing that had happened to you. You had been so head over heels in love with him that you hadn’t been able to see him for who he really was – a manipulator.

Your brothers had been right. He’d cut you off from all your friends by saying that he just wanted to spend as much time alone with you as possible. He’d slowly even cut you off from your brothers, saying that they had it out for him and that maybe the both of you could benefit from some distance from them – and when you had disagreed, Mark had started to use other tactics. You couldn’t believe you had allowed yourself to be sucked in like this.

You made all your decisions around Mark, letting him tell you what jobs you should take, which restaurants you should go to, even which bars you should or shouldn’t go to. You had put him at the very center of your life and after all that, he had cheated. He had brought another woman to the fancy places he wouldn’t take you to, bought things for her that he would never have bought for you.

You could still see it, how he had his arm draped over her shoulder, walking out of that fancy restaurant – the one you wanted to try but he had said no and you had dropped it. But there he had had been with another woman.

“I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid.” You muttered, as you finished telling your brothers everything.

“Hey, look at me.” Jay said, his voice stern.

You pulled your hands away from your face and looked at Jay. “You are not stupid.” Jay said.

Will continued, “None of this is your fault, do you hear me?”

You looked from Jay to Will. “I’m sorry.” You said again. What made you feel worse was actually having allowed Mark to get between you and your brothers. Your brothers who loved you and cared about you more than anything in the world, your brothers who always put your needs above theirs. For the life of you, you had no idea why you had fallen in love with a man who was everything your brothers were not.

Instead of trying to convince you otherwise, your brothers moved at the same time, crushing you in between them.

The bear hug.

The hug that made you feel safe and protected.

“I should have listened to you. I always listen to you. Why didn’t I…” You sobbed against Will’s shoulder.

Will just patted your back gently. “Hey, we all go through this. Jay and I, too.”

You shook your head. “Not like this.” You said, “You’ve never done this.”

Jay squeezed your shoulder from where his hand was around you. “You believe in people, and that’s a good thing. That’s why people love you.”

“I hate it.” You muttered.

“We don’t.” Will said, pulling away slightly so that you could see his face. “It’s what makes you, you. And if someone can’t appreciate that, he doesn’t deserve you. Never have, never will.”

Jay put his hand on your head affectionately. “And if you need me to pound him into the ground…”

You finally cracked a smile.

“Can I stay here tonight?” You asked, looking up at Jay. “I just… don’t really want to be alone.”

He smiled at you. “As long as you want, kid.”

---

It had been a week since I had landed in front of Jay’s apartment. Will and Jay had made every effort to take you out, your favourite foods, drinks, to keep you as distracted as possible and to say you were thankful wasn’t even enough to cover it.

“What did I do to deserve being your sister?” You asked absentmindedly.

Will slid a drink to you. “You got that upside down.”

Jay grinned, “I’ll drink to that.”

You smiled, shaking your head but clinked your bottle with theirs.

“Jay.” Will said, motioning towards the door of Molly’s which swung open.

Jay turned from where he was seated next to you and the growl that escaped his lips made you turn as well.

You couldn’t believe Mark would just waltz in here, to Molly’s, after what he did, knowing that this was where you and your brothers always were. He knew.

You turned your eyes away and looked straight back at Will before you heard Jay’s chair drag back.

“Jay!” You hissed, but Jay was already halfway towards him.

Jay marched straight up to him, snarling, “How dare you show your face around here.”

You ran right up to Jay, grabbing his arm. “Jay, don’t. You’re police.” You whispered.

Mark let out a grin. “Yes, a police officer can’t go around hitting people, can they? Hey Y/N.” He even greeted you as if nothing had happened.

You tugged Jay backwards as Will swung, catching him off guard with a punch.

“Will!” You yelled, as Kevin and Kelly moved forward automatically to put themselves in between Will and Mark.

“Don’t you dare show your face around here.” Will snarled.

Mark shrugged, an annoying smile still lingering on his face. “Well, sadly you can’t ban me from a business that isn’t yours.”

You heard a loud bang as Herrmann stepped out from behind the bar. “Get out of my bar.”

You watched as Mark’s eyes widened a little in surprise but he turned to leave. You sent a grateful smile to Herrmann and all the rest around you, the friends you had thanks to your brothers. “You’re family.” Herrmann said.

You turned back to your brothers, throwing a glance at Will.

“Told you we have your back.” Will said. He looked as if he was about to apologize but you interrupted him.

“Thanks.”

Your brothers’ heads snapped up. “Thanks for having my back.”

“Always.” They responded unanimously, as the three of you headed back to your table. You smiled as you watched them lead the way back, knowing that you were going to be just fine.

---

HALSTEAD!SISTER TAGLIST

If you would like to be added to a taglist, you may request here or send me an ask!

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dontbipanicjonsa · 4 years ago

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Can't believe they Pol!Jon-baited us (I finished the show, unfortunately)

Like queer-baiting, yes.

Lucky for me I'm used to being baited.

No but really. I cannot believe how they utterly ruined Jon's character by the end.

Sure, I can still say Pol!Jon was happening. I can say that Jon told Varys his, "she is my Queen" because he didn't trust that Varys wouldn't betray him to Dany. Kind of like how Sansa would call Joffrey her King and renounce her family while she was stuck in KL.

I can say that Jon was clearly trying to talk down/calm Dany when he said "I love you" and then immediately followed it with "you are my Queen" (again) because he knew that was what really mattered to Dany.

I can say plenty of his actions were driven by fear.

I can say that his "love is the death of duty" can be interpreted as his love for his family and his need to protect them which led him down the Pol!Jon path that proceeded to grow utterly out of his control (death of his duty to the realm of men etc)

But that still doesn't cut it.

At some point his actions cross from Pol!Jon to nonsensical. Is he really the kind of guy who would follow an obvious tyrant because he "loves" her? Does he love her??? HOW

Is he so deeply in love that his vocabulary has been cut down to only "you are my Queen" and "I don't want it"? Very romantic.

Basically, I can't believe that he loved her, I also can't believe he would hesitate to try to stop her unless he did love her. So basically......idk. It doesn't make sense. Why did he need to be convinced that Dany has to be removed from power??

On a lighter note- wtf are we all still debating about???? Last episode made it clear that Jon and Sansa love each other.

I mean....

When Danaerys and Jon talk about the "others" that Dany says "won't get to choose", who are they really talking about? Who is "they"?

Let's see, Edmure from the Riverlands ? Nah, dude has too strong self preservation skills.

Who's at Highgarden? Sam? Some rando? The Unsullied? They're not gonna wage war on Dany alone. So no.

The Westerlands? Well, the Lannisters just died, besides Tyrion who's imprisoned. Dany would have probably elected somebody to take over that place.

The Vale? Right. Sweetrobin would utterly destroy Dany with his smirky face, but it's unlikely he'd try.

The Pyke? Last we checked, Yara took it back in Dany's name.

The Stormlands? Why would Gendry do that ? To avenge KL? Unlikely.

Dorne? We don't even know the freaking name of that supposed Prince.

The wildlings? Why??

That's right. Neither Jon nor Dany have reason to believe that anybody else will rebel in Westeros....except the North. Except Sansa.

"They" is Sansa. Jon killed Dany for Sansa.

Not to mention, Sansa is repeatedly brought up in the scenes leading up to Jon killing Dany, because she is the point of conflict between them. Besides his parentage, of course.

And Sansa. My girl brought a whole ass army to the capital just for Jon. Straight up said she'd declare war if anyone hurt him. Honestly, she can declare war on me anytime she wants.

Actually it's pretty hilarious-

Sansa to Bran: you ain't my king

Sansa to Jon: but you're my king :/

And also-

Sansa to Jon: can you forgive me

Jon to Sansa: dammit let me stay angry for a moment :(

Dorks.

I will say, if the show had actually been consistent till the end, I would believe that Sansa being seemingly not angry at Jon is a sign that Pol!Jon was a thing. Because otherwise he would have given away the North to a foreign queen simply because he was in love with her, and put his entire Kingdom and family at a huge risk of being burnt alive, as KL was. Not sure if Sansa would still say things like "but we lost our king" then.

But the show ISN'T consistent so what's the point anymore?

Another thing-

Dany is a tragic figure ultimately. She needs the love of her subjects, but fails to realise that conquering a continent with fire breathing dragons and the "love of the people"....do not go hand in hand.

Jon's "I love you" was calculated, but he failed to follow through on it the way she wanted.

Now, I'm going to list three ways in which Jonerys stagnated the story and generally sucked, because I'm petty like that.

1) Sansa says- you have to be smarter than Father.

Say Jon did fall in love with Dany, and he really was honorable the entire time....even at the Dragon Pit where he refused to lie to Cersei. A true Northern Fool. What was the point of that line then? He didn't learn shit. No, he got worse. Because we know Jon has lied in the previous seasons.

Actually, this lends more to making me believe Pol!Jon was real. Jon mentions his Father quite a bit in S7, and it is always about how honorable his father was. Seriously, we know Ned was honorable. You don't have to keep telling us. Unless.....?

Arya and Sansa talk about Ned too, but their conversation is not about honor.

So seriously Jon, don't you have anything else to say about your dad? Or are you trying to convince everyone of your own supposed honor by connecting yourself so strongly to your Father's honorable-ness.

We really didn't need that many reminders. It's sus.

2) Sansa says- you have to be smarter than Robb.

And then what did Jon do? Went South, fell for a foreigner, lost his crown, lost some of his standing in the North, and eventually the story ended tragically and a whole lot of people died.

Once again, what was the point? Why have Sansa specifically tell Jon not to make the same mistakes as his father and brother only to have him go and make those same mistakes? That's not how stories move forward.

If Jon really pulled a Robb, then Sansa and the North are perfectly justified in their anger.

3) Jon and Ygritte.

So....Jon goes to place where he's essentially a prisoner, meets woman who's into him, falls into Stockholm Syndrome with her, puts his duty and honor on hold to enter an abusive relationship with her, wilfully blinds himself to her flaws to cope, and then eventually (directly or indirectly) leads to her death.

Ygritte and Dany are....the same. Dany is Ygritte with dragons. Once again, what was the point?

Did Jon's story really just repeat itself, beat for beat? Is this like some loop he's cursed to live in?

Pol!Jon is the only way we can respect Jon's character growth from the time he was with Ygritte till the end of S6. Jon from S6 would not fall in love with Dany.

Side note- how do you put that "read more" cut in these posts? I feel like this one got too long.

#jonsa meta #jonsa #all roads lead to jonsa #dark dany #political jon #pol!jon

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cuddlesslut · 4 years ago

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Memories

Part three to Home

Suna x fem reader

Atsumu x fem reader

Tags: still angst, light fluff, just a lot of Suna simping.

AN// let me know if you want me to continue the story.

Part Two: Silence

Part Four: Chance Encounters

You were the most beautiful girl Suna had ever seen. When he saw you that first day of school it was like the clouds in his normally dreary day parted and he could feel the sun. You weren’t in the same class much to his dismay. That didn’t stop the middle blocker from searching for your face in the crowds of the halls or the cafeteria. Though it was rare he stilled catch some glimpses. In those moments a war waged in his mind part of him wanted to go introduce himself, he wanted to know your name. To just be around you. But another side of his brain forbid that. Stating that he was fine were he was he would just interrupt your day. What would he even say to you. Hi I’m Suna I’ve been watching you since the first and even though I know next to nothing about you I can’t get you out of my head..... yeah no. He’d just sit back and wait for opportunity to knock. Suna curses himself for his laziness. He can’t describe how his heart stop the day his friend brought you to practice and introduce you as his girlfriend.

Though he kept his composure he felt as though the air was stolen from his lungs. This is the closesest he had ever to been to you and it was overwhelming to say the least. You stood there at Atsumu’s side smiling and greeting the team memebers and when your attention drew to Suna he realized his favorite thing about you was your eyes. You beautiful (e/c) eyes shown with so much light and happiness. When you smiled you smiled with your eyes, always getting this cute little crinkle. He shook his head at these feelings. You were taken and by one of his friends no less.

From that moment on you presence was always close by joining the boys for lunch or stopping by practice with little snacks you had made the team. Suna almost resents how easy he gets along with you. How simple it is to fall into a banter with you. He hates how calming it is when you’d sit next to him and laugh as you showed him some meme. He wanted to be annoyed with you ever time you’d put your foot down and insist he let you wrap his finger after a bad block. But he couldn’t you were just such a caring person. He’d try and give you some petty insults, maybe if he caused a rift between the two of you he’d feel better, maybe then if there was more space between you he’d feel less guilty for always being enraptured by you. But you’d always snap back with something just as clever or petty. You could go toe to toe in trading insults but both of you knew neither of you meant it. You’d always break out into that breathtaking smile after a few rounds of back and forth. He realized soon that he’d much rather keep you in his life as a friend even if he could never have you because at least he’d still see that smile. At least as your best friend he’d still see your eyes shine bright and he could take a small pleasure in knowing he brought some of that happiness.

“You need to calm down,” Suna turned to see Osamu taking the seat on the bench next to him.

Suna's hands run through his hair gripping the roots in frustration as he let out a yell.

“How the fuck am I supposed to be calm, she could be hurt or missing, and that ass is just sitting there! Two weeks! Lord knows what could have happened by now.” Hes shaking part of him wants to go back up and give Atsumu a few more licks but he knows no good will come from it.

“YN is a grown woman and she’s smart and strong and you know damn well she’d bitch you out right now for thinking she couldn’t handle herself,” the former ace chuckled.

“I’d much rather her here bitching cause at least then she’d be here,” he groaned rubbing his hand down his legs trying to let out some of his nerves. “Did you know?” He asked the grey haired twin.

Samu gave his quick glare of offense. “Absolutely not believe me if I’d known I would have been the one to deck him , you just beat me to it.”

“The last i heard from her was her birthday, maybe if I’d had stopped by and brought the Onigiri myself I could have been there for her,” he sighs.

“We’ll find her don’t worry,” his friend pats his back, “and then you can finally confess,”he smiles.

“I’m that obvious huh,” he sighed.

Samu let a loud laugh “ OH PLEASE we all knew, well maybe not YN she can be kinda blind ya’know,”

Suna shook his head laughing. He has to see you.

They returned home today from nationals. The loss to Karasuno was really starting to sink in now that was Suna was home sitting in his room alone the house quiet. He laid there berating himself for balls he failed to block. If I had just done better maybe my team would still be playing. Maybe - he was disrupted from his thoughts by the chime of the door bell. His parents were out of town this weekend. They had assumed like many Inarizaki would still be out in Tokyo fighting for first place. It was fine though Suna was used to being alone. But that just confused him more as he made his way to the door. Who could possibly be here. All he can say is he’d never except to open the door and see you standing there. Like always you stole his breath away.

“What yer not gunna let me in,” you teased “and to think I brought you snacks!” He just realized now she was carrying a grocery bag that looked pretty heavy.

“Give me that ya Dummy,” he said taking away the snacks, he stepped to the side allowing her entry.

“I figured you were hungry, but try to save me some,” she giggled. Suna just rolled his eyes as she took a seat on his couch.

“What are you doing here?” He questioned taking his seat beside her making sure to leave a respectable distance. Though he wants nothing more than to hold you close. He dismisses the thought as he rummages threw the goodies waiting for your response. He smiles seeing the package of milk bread you bought. He took it out and tossed it to you knowing it was your favorite. You smile and give a slight nod as a thank you.

“I figured you wouldn’t want to be alone after the game, I know your probably thinking a whole bunch of nonsense right now aren’t ya?” She looked at him with a solem but knowing look. He cursed how well you knew him. Seeing as he had been doing just that before your arrival. His heart squeezed at the thought of you wanting to comfort him. It almost gives him a slight hope. What about Atsumu, he lost that game too.

“Why aren’t you with you boyfriend, he’s probably taking it harder than me,” he asks knowing he might ruin this little fantasy he has here with you. He sees a sad look cross your face at the mention of the setter. It’s not a look Suna wants to keep seeing.

“You’re right about that, Tsmu’s having a tough go of it,” she gave a soft smile. “But he said he didn’t want my pity and asked I leave,” Suna could see your eyes get a little glassy thinking back to the conversation.

“He’s an Ass.” The middle blocker states plainly.

“He’s just got a lot of emotions right now and wants his space, it’s okay.” But Suna can see your hurt. He knows it wont do any good to keep talking about it.

“His loss, now I get all of the snacks,” pulling out a bag of chips. “Want to watch a movie?”

That’s how the evening went the both of you curled up on the couch Suna had brought down some pillows and blankets and he wouldn’t lie he loved seeing you wrapped in his comforter. You went on and on about this anime you started and you nearly died when he agreed to let you show it to him, pumping your fist in the air going off about your favorite character and how he’s totally going to love him. Suna looks over at you and your wearing the biggest smile eyes wide with joy. This is will always be his favorite moment he thinks.

He’s right that moment still sticks out in his mind. He has plenty of great memories but that one right there is his favorite. He’s been thinking back on a lot of his memories of you lately.

It’s been seven months since your birthday and no one in your former circle new anything about where you were. You hadn’t talked to anyone. Your number was no longer in service and all of you socials have gone silent.

After a couple of days of looking for you Suna was ready to go to the Police and report you missing, ready to call every hospital and pray you are safe. At this point that’s all that matters to him. He can’t bare to think about anything bad happening to you but it’s hard to keep his mind out of the dark place. Osamu was the one to stop him. Luckily they had gotten in touch with their former captain and while Kita was sorry to hear about the situation and very disappointed in his junior for his actions. Every one was upset with Atsumu for his actions. Kita was gladly willing to help in the search. Still being in their home town he was able to pay your parents a quick visit. And while he was happy he could inform them both that your parents had heard from you the other day so your fine. That was all your parents could tell him, stating that you had requested to keep your privacy not wanting to talk to anyone. So while they knew the biggest detail they still knew nothing.

It hurt Suna the most. How could you just cut him off like that. You were the most important person to him how could you not know that. He fretted. He knows your hurting but why did you have to cut all of them off most importantly him. Part of him was so incredibly angry how could you not even say goodbye to him. Did his friendship really mean that little to you. But another part of him understood that he couldn’t possibly know what you are going through. All he knew is how much he missed your smiling eyes. He would give everything to see you again.

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theshelbyclan · 4 years ago

Text

Angel

Summary: You cross paths with famous Thomas Shelby after killing someone he wanted dead, and you can’t help but recognise so much of yourself in this man

(Gif by @nofckingfighting) A/N: The ever-lovely @psych0crybaby requested: good evening my dear. i saw that your request are open again. Could i ask for some Tommy with a total badass reader? Maybe where she saves their asses and no one knows where she is( and she just walks away) and then they see her again and ada explains to them that she mostly kills rapists and guys who harass woman because someone did the same to her when she was in the war? if you are comfortable with, if not have a good evening or day 🌺 I remember the first time I read this request and immediately being drawn to it. I did however want to do it right, you know? Like I really wanted to think about it, so I have. This comes with a warning for anyone familiar with PTSD, and some sexual abuse and assault is mentioned: this may be triggering. Sorry that it took a while to get this out, but I hope you like the result! Words: 4370 *** Breathe in. Look. See. Focus. Remember. Breath out. Throw. The first knife whooshed passed your face and hit the wall opposite you. The second followed quickly, almost magnetically. The third came after a small pause, the silence in which people feel a false sense of safety, and hit the target right in its middle.

“You’re too pretty to be out here in the mud.” “Again,” you told yourself, “there’s four of them”. Everything comes in four, good or bad. So you moved suddenly, ducked and threw three more knives, previously hidden in your sleeves.

“You know you want it.” Like a cat you jumped up onto a roof and mid-air threw three more, taken from your pockets. But the hardest was yet to come. The last man was always hidden, always late, like that last knife. He too swished and betrayed. So from your boots, you took another knife, jumped down suddenly and planted it in the back of the invisible assailant. “Good girl…” The job was done. Now for the real work. “What happened to you?” And you told yourself, “I’m ready.” ***

“What is your concern, Tommy?” “The one minute. The soldier’s minute. In battle it’s all you get.” Thomas Shelby lived his life looking over his shoulder, but when he turned, there was nothing there. You see it happening, everything at once and there’s no avoiding it. It’s always there, right behind you. Like running through a house with the devil hot on your heels, finally finding the way out, but when you step into the garden, it starts all over again: you’re back at your starting point. You see, your body may be outside in the sunlight, but your mind is back at the house. That’s what it felt like, every day. “We live somewhere between life and death.” This is what existing is: always living somewhere between life and death, between sleep and awake. And the nightmares, they bled into the days, taking over slowly. “Is it another war you’re looking for, Tommy?” There was supposed to be one war, to end all wars. But instead, kids were sent out to die in the mud, and for what? All that blood, smoke, tears, sweat and carnage. Men blowing the whistles, boys praying and crying. Was he looking for another war? That would imply the first one had ended. “I’ll remember everything and forget nothing. I’m thinking ahead, thinking of every possibility, remembering everything that is happening…” As if he could forget. The smallest things could trigger his memories, taking him right back. When John was little, he used to be scared of a monster. Ada had told him that: that there was a witch living in the walls that you could only see in the mirrors. John didn’t sleep for weeks after her little story. And now, the monster turned out to be real, except no one believed in it anymore. Still, it was everywhere and you had to be constantly on your guard. Because it’s not just in the walls and mirrors; it’s always right behind you, creeping, slithering, crawling it’s way up your spine… And so he became a machine, no longer a human being, fuelled by whiskey and cigarettes only, always plotting. “Thomas Shelby against the whole bloody world, right?” And so he wrote, “My name is Thomas Shelby and today, I’m going to kill a man.” *** There had been five of you at home. And home was in Small Heath, though you moved house all the time. When the poverty got bad, the family was split up and you and mother went into a boarding house for women, while father and the oldest brothers went into a boarding house for men. You were alright with this, because father was a bad man, but you feared for your brothers. Mother was the sweetest woman to ever live, always making sure you ate before she did. You never noticed her withering away before it was too late. At twelve, you started working. Walking the docks and shipyards was dangerous, so your brothers tried their best to prepare you. They weren’t like the other men in Small Heath. “Take this,” one brother told you on the morning of your first shift, “Hide it, in those boots.” You’d gotten charity boots, the first one in the family! But walking in them still felt uneasy, and now he expected you to slide in a small knife as well? “When someone comes,” he continued, urging you with his fiery eyes, “you stick ‘m. Don’t wait, don’t hesitate and don’t ask any questions. When he comes, you stick ‘m and you keep on sticking ‘m!” This was the first lesson you’d been taught. Four brothers all taught their little sister and each had but one objective: keeping you safe. One gave you the knife, the other taught you how to fight and the third took the beatings your drunk father had intended for you. The fourth hadn’t any strength or knowledge to share, so he kept close. Wherever you went, he followed in the shadows, and it was like having your own guardian angel, made up of filth and smoke. When the war came, they all enlisted. Of course they did: they were good, strong and brave men. You saw them off, one by one, and after waving goodbye to your guardian angel, something inside you snapped. Inspired by their love and courage, you became a nurse and took up a post at the front. You became a guardian angel yourself. *** Tommy was looking for a war. After France, they’d taken over the Shelby enterprise again and he had ambitions of expansion. Still, there were those in Small Heath who’d forgotten about the Shelby’s and he had to re-establish their reputation. “It’s happened again, Tommy,” John said sombrely, during a family meeting. Tommy sighed and dipped his head forwards, “Will he live?” “Yeah,” his brother replied, “but what are we going to do about this?” Polly, the voice of reason, said, “You need to make an example of him, Thomas. Show him who’s in charge. We can’t have a few Irish rebels killing and beating up our runner-boys. It’s bad for business.” Tommy nodded slowly and was formulating a plan as they spoke, “He drinks at the Horse’s Head. That’s where we’ll get him.” “Are you mad?” Arthur questioned, “On any given night there’s at least fifty Irish in there. It’s like a bloody army!” “We’re not scared of some fucking Irish,” John spat. “We’re not,” Tommy looked at his aunt with whom he shared his strategic skills, “but we need to be smart about this.” “Smoke him out,” Polly added, knowing her nephew’s mind so well. “We need an incentive.” Everything was all planned out. Tommy had an explosion, a staged fight and the rum in place. The men would scatter, the police would be elsewhere and their target would run. As the pub would be set on fire, he would literally be smoked out. That’s where they would be. The plan was good, well thought out and each eventually had been dealt with.

When the night came, the first part worked like a well-oiled machine. A small explosion in the shipyards, John’s, had drawn the police away. It would take them a while too, seeing as the Communists held their meetings there. Danny Whizz-bang would be inside the pub, looking both menacingly and vulnerable enough to not attract attention among the rebels. He was doing good tonight; he’d be able to light the fire. Tommy, Arthur and a few other blinders were waiting in the alleyways. Smoke started emerging from the pub and Tommy’s head shot up at the shouts of men. As he was getting ready mentally, he thought: some day, I won’t be the one doing this work. As men started fighting and chaos ensued, he followed one insignificant figure with his eyes. This man ran, frantically, into the protection of one of the dark alleys. Tommy followed and shouted his name. The man turned and his face fell as he recognised the Shelby. He in turn grabbed his gun and pointed it at him, saying, “Don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders.” But as Tommy was about to pull the trigger, the man fell forwards. The irritation of an eventuality not anticipated shot through Tommy and as he walked forwards, he saw a small knife sticking out of the Irish’ neck. He died on the spot. His first thought was if he could still pass this off as a killing by the Peaky Blinders, because Polly had been right: they needed to make a statement. Of course he could. His second thought lasted a lot longer and actually drove him to action: who’d done this? The angle of the knife made him look up, towards the roofs. No one was there, but Tommy still ran. As a kid, he used to climb roofs. As an adult, he dug tunnels. It’s funny how both came back to him now. Fearing whomever it was he couldn’t see, he chased the murderer. Once up, he could easily recognise the signs: someone had been on the roofs. There were bits of dust where bricks had been falling, flecks of ash where someone had been smoking and the smell of soap where someone had been waiting. Still, the killer was long gone. *** You weren’t sleeping, but sort of dreaming with one eye open. You did that a lot. Nightmares kept you vigilant, even at night. The boarding house you were living at was positively Dickensian, but you didn’t mind. You came from nothing and had little trouble going back to it. Besides, there was no money coming in at the moment, so you didn’t have the funds for any proper room.

In the dark, you thought of the men on your list. One of the best things about the boarding house was its anonymity. People who lived here were the poorest of the poorest, only surpassed by those on the streets and the working houses. No one asked any questions, no one looked at each other and shame drove people into hiding. The large room was separated into small spaces by a few curtains only, but still, there was some sense of privacy. In the darkness, you could think. The worst thing about the boarding house was the sound. It wasn’t the crying babies, children whining for food or people fighting each other, but the sound of pain. Some women wailed in their sleep and it shook you to your core every time. Your mother had sounded like that. You had too, you knew it. Early in the morning, you left. “Where are you off to, eh?” the old lady who slept next to you asked. In some ways, she was the pauper’s queen and she got away with prying. “Work,” you replied shortly. The old woman laughed a hoarse laugh, “You’re not fooling no one, dearie…” As soon as you walked onto the streets, a calmness came over you. Poverty was familiar, but it frightened you too. It was like a hand around your throat, always squeezing just a little but more. Inside, especially, it was like drowning. In Small Heath, some women had started their first shifts at the factories already and men were shovelling coal into the big machines. Sparks flew and fizzled out in your hair. Soot clung to your already filthy clothing. In other words, nothing about you looked out of the ordinary. The rest of the day was filled with you practising two skills: observing and vanishing. You listened in on conversations everywhere, while timidly looking away when anyone did notice you. Men boasted of their achievements and women complained everywhere. But you listened for any signs of cruelty and found it easily. See, in a city forgotten by civilisation, no one notices cruelty anymore. It’s part of everyday life. You, however, had decided to change that. This was your revenge, or atonement, whichever way you looked at it. One man in particular stood out to you. His eyes were cold and his shoulders broad, and when his wife came to him during his break, he slapped her without warning. Sometimes menace leaves a certain aura and you could sense it in him. When a filthy child came from the factory as well, also on a short break, you motioned the child to come over. “Hey, love,” you said softly. The child didn’t trust you, but his sunken eyes still pleaded, “What?” “Here,” you offered him a bun you’d just stolen, “I need your help.” He hadn’t eaten in days, that much was clear, and with his mouth full of crumbs, he said, “Wiff whaff?” “I’m new here in Birmingham. Where can I get a job?” He pointed, “Ask the foreman.” You smiled gently, “Thanks, love.” “Where’d you get the bun?” he inquired, less shy with each bite. “My husband bought it for me.” “You not hungry?” This child was sweet, so he’d know, “No, you have it. We got more at home.” “Okay,” and he continued absolutely devouring the pastry. Just before he walked off again, you asked him, off-handedly, “That man, over there?” you pointed at the man with stony eyes, “You know him?” The boy fell still, “Yeah. He works here.” “What’s his name?” “Don’t know,” he whispered, “But mum told us to stay away.” “Why?” The kid shrugged, “He’s a bad man I suppose.” “Like those Shelby’s,” you tried, knowing the kid would know them like everyone around here did. It worked. “Nah,” he laughed, “the Shelby’s would never touch a woman!” “Does he?” you asked, eyes narrowing. “Mum says so. Mum says women are scared of him, because he hurts them. All of them.” You nodded slowly, “Why don’t the Peaky Blinders take care of him?” He shrugged again, “Miss? Thanks for the bun, but I really need to get back. I need my job.” “I know,” you urged him, “Go.” In France, you helped the sick and dying. This is what you had come for and you’d given up everything to do it. With the telegram of each brother found dead, you became more focussed on the work. It was like you turned into a machine, running only on adrenaline. Sometimes you would work shifts of 48 hours, simply because the other nurse had collapsed, or because the bodies wouldn’t stop coming in. Fear became second nature and fatigue had to be ignored. But being tired also made vulnerable: you learned this when one of the superior officers followed you into the halls of the makeshift hospital. Remaining on your feet after working for so long was easy, as long as you kept on moving. But when he grabbed you and you paused, your knees started buckling. Maybe it’d been the fear, maybe it was his rank and maybe it was purely that fucking bloody war, but there was no fight left in you in that moment. He had his way with you and you just… froze. Shame and guilt drove you back to England and back into the shadows you retreated. And then, shame and guilt turned into anger and the guardian angel became an avenging angel. You didn’t have to wait long. After his work was done, you followed the man with the cold eyes, watching his every move. All your fears and the kid’s warnings were confirmed in a dark corner of a filthy street. The woman never stood a chance. And so you vowed: you would end him. *** “What’s up with you?” Ada asked pointedly. Tommy’s head shot up and he stared at his sister with vacant eyes. “Thomas Shelby, the man who never eats. A rare biological mystery, he is,” Ada commented sarcastically. He grabbed a fork and picked up a potato, “I eat.” “Hardly,” Polly commented. “I have work to do, so if you ladies don’t mind…” But Ada wasn’t finished, “You’ve been lost in thought all day. Mind sharing it with us?” “No really.”

“Because we’re just women or…”

“Ada!” Tommy sighed, “Something… happened. Something unexpected and I can’t figure out how.”

“And this bothers you.”

There was something deeply infuriating about having a sister who was reading the newspaper, right next to you, but never made eye contact, and still she was absolutely right about everything. So Tommy threw his head back and admitted defeat, “Someone killed a man.”

“It’s Small Heath.”

“Someone I wanted dead, but he got there before me.”

Polly sat back down and leaned forwards, “The Irish? I though we did that.”

“Yes, that is what I had people believe.”

Ada suddenly looked up, “How?”

“I failed to take it into my calculations…”

“No. How was the Irish killed?”

Tommy blinked a few times, “A knife. Thrown from the roof.”

His sister smiled faintly, didn’t say a word and then went back to her newspaper.

“Ada…” Tommy growled, “If you know something, tell me.”

“Why? I thought you boys were taking care of business now.”

He looked at his aunt for support, almost desperate, but saw from her face that he could hope for little sympathy there.

“Fine, what do you want,” he demanded.

“Respect,” Ada said coldly.

“You have my respect.”

“Good,” she slowly flipped the page, “Now tell me you need me.”

Polly’s smirk grew into a grin and Tommy cursed all women, right there and then.

So he cleared his throat, “Ada, please, tell me.”

“It’s almost like it’s physically painful for him, isn’t it?” Polly said conversationally to Ada.

“Fucking hell…” Tommy groaned, “Ada, I fucking need your help. Please just tell me what you know!”

“Fine,” she abruptly closed the newspaper, “You need to go to that pub in Digbeth.”

“The one by the water?” Tommy frowned.

“That’s the one. Next to that boarding house that should’ve been closed years ago. That’s where you’ll find your killer.”

Immediately, he stood up. Because even though he thought he’d been subtle about it, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the incident for days now. The killer, whoever he was, had taken over his thoughts entirely. It was dark outside already, but still early enough for the pubs to be open. He’d go there at once.

“Tell her I said ‘hi’,” Ada called after him as he left.

And Tommy retraced his steps slowly, “‘Her’?”

“Her.”

He paused for a second, but when nothing else came, “You know they don’t allow women in pubs.”

“They do her,” Ada chuckled.

“Ada, stop playing these fucking games!” he shouted, as he threw down his cap in anger.

She, however, didn’t even blink and repeated, “Her. It’s a woman who killed your Irishman. All the women here know her; she takes care of a certain kind of man for us. She doesn’t want it known and she rids the world of bastards, so we leave her be. It all works out.”

Tommy turned to Polly, “Did you know of this?”

“I’ve heard of her, yes.”

“Then why the fuck has no one told me before?”

Polly sent a stern gaze at her nephew from over her teacup, “I thought you weren’t interested in women’s business.”

***

When you walked into the pub, a small nod to the man behind the bar was all that was needed. Dressing like a man had many advantages and this was definitely one of them. Still, he knew you were a woman, but after helping him out one night, you were allowed in. So you sat in the corner and became one with the furniture, drinking your whiskey in silence.

And then it happened. One man, who had no business being here, walked in. Thomas Shelby of the Peaky Blinders was considered royalty in Small Heath, so why would he be here, in this grimy little cellar pub?

The thought that he came looking for you never even crossed you mind at first. He leaned over the bar and ordered whiskey, asking a few more questions you couldn’t hear. You tried to listen more closely, but the more you did so, the more inaudible his words seemed to become.

Suddenly, he turned and looked you right in the eyes. Without a second thought, you jumped up, kicked the table towards him and made your way to the door.

“Fuck,” you heard him ground out, but still he was quick. In a flash, he had the door barricaded and a gun pointed at your head.

“Out!” he commanded everyone but you.

You felt for the reassuring blades under your clothes and relaxed a little.

“Now, Miss…” he started after everyone had left.

But you didn’t plan on being interrogated, so the first knife whooshed passed his head: a warning.

Thomas Shelby froze. Then it was like an animal awoke in him and he lunged forwards, tackling you down with him. While you were struggling, you tried to plant a second knife into his leg, but he rolled away just in time. With big eyes he stared at the weapon now stuck in the floor.

And so you were standing opposite each other, weapons of choice pointed at each other’s heads.

“Alright,” he said after a while, holding up his hands in a pacifying manner, “There’s no need to fight.”

“Spoken by a man who knows he will lose,” you replied, without missing a beat.

“You want a fight?” Tommy said quickly, “Then fight me like a man. No gun, no fucking knives. If my sister is right about you, you’ll fight me like a man.”

With that you scoffed and threw away the knives, right next to his head, into the door. It gave you such pleasure to see him shudder with each one, but your face betrayed nothing.

“Now what?” you asked.

“You tell me.”

“Fine,” you sighed and punched him in the face, hard.

As his head shot back, you noticed a flicker of surprise in his features, but he quickly recovered and his face turned emotionless yet again.

Your triumph didn’t last long. If anything, you arrogance had distracted you, so the three blows that followed from his fists came out of nowhere. One to the nose, one to the chin and the last one square in the jaw. Thank God you weren’t vain.

You took a breath in, made yourself focus and quickly jabbed him two times, before hitting him right in the eye with a mean left hook.

“Jesus Christ…” he muttered, “Who the fuck taught you how to fight like that?”

“My brothers,” you replied, before you could stop yourself.

Tommy held up his hands and his two punches to your gut literally took your breath away. Meanwhile, he said, “Why aren’t they here to defend you now, eh?”

“Do I look like I need to be fucking defended?” With a sudden kick you were certain you cracked at least on of his ribs.

Wheezing, he leaned over, but managed to grab your leg in the process and flipped you over onto the ground, “Brothers still do.”

“They’re dead,” you said from the floor, “the Somme,” and with one quick motion, you’d tackled him with your legs, “What about you?”

“The Somme too. Verdun…”

Before he could recover, you climbed on top of him and started pounding his pretty face with your fists. Unfortunately, he quickly bucked you off and hit you with a nasty uppercut, which made you wonder about your teeth.

You crawled back a little and felt with a hand at your mouth: blood. Tommy leaned against the wall and was still panting, lightly tracing a hand over his ribs. The chaos subdued and you both rested.

“Are we done?” he growled.

You stared at him with a look that told him you could go on for hours like this, “What is it that you want?”

“I just want to talk.”

Quickly, you started thinking out your options. Clearly, he knew who you were and evidently, you’d killed the wrong person this time. Really, it was bound to happen at some point.

“Who was it?” you asked, “the one you didn’t want dead.”

“I did want him dead,” he said as he slowly lifted his cigarette case from his pocket.

“Then what’s the problem?”

He smiled a little and the gesture was so unexpected that the feeling it gave you caught you completely off-guard, “I wanted to be the one to kill him.”

You furrowed your brows, thought back and suddenly nodded slowly, “The Irishman.”

He pointed at you with his cigarette in hand, “That’s the one.”

In the silence that followed, you watched this man, this broken boy. His eyes started glazing over and you knew he drifted off to placed in the distant past. As he smoked slowly, you recognised the signs of a flashback so well and you suddenly became more curious than ever about this man.

He saw the same thing in you evidently, because out of the blue he said, “You and me. I think we understand each other.”

“Do we?” you said in a voice that demanded distance.

He nodded a little, “We kill.”

You laughed a cold laugh, “Are you insane like me?”

“Maybe I am…”

“Or just in pain like me?” you added.

He didn’t speak for a long time, like he was thinking what to say next, but then, suddenly, he broke the pregnant silence. “Who hurt you?” he asked, in a voice so low it was almost inaudible.

You leaned forwards and locked eyes with him, fire burning inside them, “Everyone.”

Tommy sat back and offered you a cigarette, but soon realised you wouldn’t take it from his hands without expecting abuse from them. So he threw it your way and you grabbed it gratefully. When you lit it, the two of you leaned against the wall in the same manner, postures similar.

“It’s time,” he announced, looking up at the ceiling.

You cocked one eyebrow, “Is it?”

“The minute is almost up.”

“And how does it end?”

He sighed, “With names. You’ve beaten me. I’m no longer Mr. Thomas Shelby. It’s Tommy now.”

And you smiled at him softly and replied with your own vulnerability, “Y/N.”

***

Masterlist

#Thomas shelby #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders headcanon #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders #ada shelby #ada thorne #polly gray #polly shelby #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders angst

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years ago

Text

Hero | Luke Patterson

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Song Fic February Week 4: Musicals

Inspiration: StarStruck (DCOM)

Requested: Yes/No

A/N: Anon suggested doing something with the Starstruck soundtrack, so I’m writing a whole-ass series. This is based off the plot of Starstruck but the reader was a fan of JATP until she met Luke... Basically crush to enemies to lovers! Also a modern!au.

The third installment of the StarStruck series!

StarStruck

Something About The Sunshine

Hero

What You Mean To Me

Pairing: Luke x Fem!reader

Song(s) used: Hero - Christopher Wilde (StarStruck ST)

Warnings: few swear words, mention of car accidents, mention of child abuse, mention of postnatal depression, tiny bit of angst

Words: 8.6K

I’m almost nervous to see him again. There’s a nervous flutter erupting from the pit of my stomach and I feel hot and sweaty when it’s not even that warm out. The boy didn’t have that effect on me just a day ago and now he suddenly does? I hate this.

“Morning,” I greet when I find Luke standing outside the coffee shop with his hood pulled far over his head and sunglasses covering his beautiful eyes. He shoots me a smile, but I don’t think he actually looks at me. Right, the whole “I can’t be seen with you”-thing.

“Want to go grab some coffee before we go?” I ask instead, pointing at the shop.

Luke nods his head and follows me inside where we wait in line together. The silence that hangs over us is uncomfortable for the first time. I don’t know why but his mysterious, secretive antics are making me nervous.

“Next!” the barista calls and the two of us step forward. The twenty-something woman shoots the both of us a polite smile, not even acknowledging that Luke’s keeping his head low. This is L.A., she’s probably used to it by now. “What can I get for ya?”

“An iced vanilla latte for me, please,” I say and then glance down at Luke.

He coughs. “Iced caramel macchiato.” His voice is low, just above a whisper, as though he’s telling the barista and me a secret. I’m glad we’re going to be out of the city soon, so Luke can go back to his regular self. Or to the singing-on-top-of-a-car-in-the-middle-of-nowhere self.

“What’s your name, please?”

“Y/N…” My eyes land on Luke for a split second, and I’m pretty sure he’s not even going to answer. Luke’s a pretty generic name, I’m sure people won’t even bother to look up. “Put my name on both, please.”

The barista smiles and then dashes off after I paid to start making our coffees while we shuffle towards the end of the counter, ready to take our drinks when they’re ready. Luke keeps his head down. He doesn’t even look up at me and the awkward silence doesn’t eb away.

“You’re not gonna talk to me yet, are you?” I ask him as I hand him one of the two straws I picked up. He shakes his head. I try my hardest not to groan and instead, hand him the keys to my car. “Here, get yourself settled in my car, I’ll handle this.”

His eyes peer over the rim of his sunglasses, flickering with uncertainty and gratefulness at the same time. I shoot him a smile, urging him to get out of here, which he does with a quick flash of his teeth.

The awkwardness quickly washes off me when he’s left the coffee shop and I’m all alone, hoping everything would change once we’re all alone, away from the prying eyes of Los Angeles’ residents.

“Iced vanilla latte and iced caramel macchiato for y/n,” the barista calls and places the cups on the counter in front of me.

I smile at her, say, “Thank you! Bye!” and then dart out of the coffee shop as fast as I could. I weave my way through hasty people and slacking tourists towards my Toyota Yaris where a hooded boy sits in my passenger seat. He still has his hood pulled up and his sunglasses balancing on the bridge of his nose. He almost looks sad, which makes me a little sad too. I wish I could do more than let him wait in my car.

“Here you go,” I say and hand him his coffee when I’ve settled into my seat.

“Thank you,” he mutters, and I’m pretty sure it’s not just for the beverage.

A smile etches its way to my cheeks as I regard him. “You’re welcome,” I say and then start the engine. As I pull out of the parking lot, Luke finally sparks up a conversation. I’m almost relieved to hear his voice again for more than two words.

“Where’re we going?” he asks.

I debate telling him but then decide I’d do it anyway. I’ve been researching a lot last night and have found the greatest secluded spots and the time slots when they’re mostly deserted or have the least visitors. The one I wanted to take him to today was a lot closer than the other ones, so I figured we could start with that.

“The Old L.A. Zoo. It’s less crowded before 9am, so I figured we could go explore it a bit until too many people arrive?” The statement comes out of my mouth as a question since I’m unsure whether or not he’d like that.

“Cool,” he replies, and he sounds honest, too. “I don’t think I’ve ever been there.”

It surprises me a little, but I go with it anyway. “Really? I’ve been there plenty of times! It’s really cool! Kinda spooky.” Luke lets out an airy laugh at that and it makes my heart flutter a little.

Within ten minutes, we arrive at the old zoo. Ten minutes had gone by and yet it felt like a split second. The conversation ran fluently on our way there and Luke told me things about the band and his childhood that not even the biggest fangirl on earth could possibly know. I love talking to Luke about those seemingly uninteresting, small things.

The rest of the morning, too, goes by as if there’s no concept of time whatsoever. The two of us walk through the old, abandoned zoo and explore every single old habitat. I even find a website that tells us the entire history of each section of the zoo and as I read it, Luke listens and adds in his own commentary. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed this much in just a few hours. This guy is genuinely funny and I just adore talking to him. Our conversations go from the ridiculous to the serious, and every subject in between.

It’s just the perfect day that I wish would never end, but inevitably, Luke has his own responsibilities and has to go by lunch time.

“Hey, why don’t you come with me to the studio?” he asks with a smile as we’re making our way back to the car. “I’m in there all by myself, aside from our producer, and I’m recording a few songs.”

I open and close my mouth a few times, letting incomprehensible sounds roll out. It makes me look like a dumbfounded fish, I’m sure, but I don’t care. My brain is dysfunctioning for a moment. Luke Patterson is asking me to come to the studio with him. To watch him record some songs. Songs that are going to be on the album.

Luke’s laugh makes the gears in my brain fall back into place. “Is that a yes?” he asks.

A heat rises up to my cheeks. “Yeah,” I finally manage.

“Cool,” he says and then gets into the car.

The ride to the studio is filled with smooth conversation. We never miss a beat, there’s never an awkward silence between the two of us. Only when we arrive at the recording studio and we’re met with a huddle of paparazzi outside the door.

“Fuck,” he mutters and ducks down. I do the same, knowing he doesn’t want me to be seen with him either. “Drive around back,” he orders before fumbling into the glove compartment of my car. He retrieves a pair of sunglasses I kept there, along with a shawl of my mother’s that I didn’t know was still in there. “Put this on.”

“No,” I reply sternly, pushing his hand with the shawl away. I do take the sunglasses from his hand though, and push them onto my nose. “Put that shawl away,” I bark. The boy obeys and stuffs the piece of cursed fabric back where it came from.

Mental note: throw that out.

When we finally do get into the recording studio, as soon as I’m on Luke’s side, he grabs my hand and drags me into the building before anyone could ever spot us. I nearly stumble on my own feet, but quickly pick myself back up before I faceplant the floor.

Luke huffs. “Phew, that was close.”

He looks at me, and for a second, I think he might bring up the shawl again, but he doesn’t and instead turns to his producer, who had gotten up from his swivel chair the second we burst in.

“Connor!” Luke greets excitedly and shakes the man’s hand.

He looks near his thirties, strong built with flawless dark skin and a full head of afro hair. Combined with his extremely savvy outfit, I find him really cool-looking. He’s the kind of guy that would get all the girls in high school while still being a sweetheart.

“You brought some new flesh, I see,” Connor says to me and outstretches his hand for me to shake. I do so with a wide smile on my face while pretending not to be completely nervous about being in a recording studio for the first time.

“Y/N,” I introduce myself.

“Welcome to our little slice of heaven on earth, y/n.” My eyes flick to Luke, who’s giving me that look again, so I quickly turn back to Connor. “Any knowledge of recording studios, y/n?” he asks.

“Never been in one, but my friend is a producer and he did teach me some things.”

I hear Luke huff beside me. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know.” I shoot him a wink as Connor beckons me towards his deck. For a while, Connor guides me through his paces while Luke gives the best of himself on this song.

After a few takes, Luke comes out of the booth and joins me and Connor to listen to what we’d recorded thus far. “What if –” I pause, debating my thoughts. “What if we go in with some soft backing vocals on here?” I click the part of the chorus we’d recorded and sing along with recorded Luke.

“'Cause I I can be everything you need If you're the one for me Like gravity I'll be unstoppable I, yeah, I believe in destiny I may be an ordinary guy With heart and soul But if your the one for me Then I'll be your hero”

“I think if you put Julie on those backings, it could give that duet-vibe you guys are so good at.” I notice Connor and Luke glance at each other, soft smiles playing on both their lips.

“Why don’t you show us?” Connor asks as Luke already grabs my hand.

“What?! Me? No! Julie.”

Luke chuckles and drags me into the booth with him. “Yeah, but we’re gonna need a demo, don’t we?” He delicately places a set of headphones on my head before placing one on his own. He signals to Connor and no later than 2 seconds, the instrumental version of the song blasts through the headphones.

Gazing at me, Luke starts singing the first verse of the song, and I let him. It almost feels like he’s serenading me. Almost. All that’s missing is a guitar or a boombox over his head.

“I'm no superman I can't take your hand And fly you anywhere you want to go Yeah I can't read your mind Like a billboard sign And tell you everything you want to hear But I'll be your hero”

From the chorus onwards, I jump in with backing vocals wherever I feel like it’s acceptable without taking my eyes off of Luke.

“I I can be everything you need If you're the one for me Like gravity I'll be unstoppable I, yeah, I believe in destiny I may be an ordinary guy With heart and soul But if you're the one for me Then I'll be your hero”

“Could you be the one Could you be the one for me” “Oh I'll be your hero” “Could you be the one Could you be the one for me” “Yeah I'll be your hero”

“So incredible Some kind of miracle That's what it's meant to be I'll become a hero So I wait, wait, wait, wait for you”

We keep our eyes locked at the high note too, smiles plastered on our faces from ear to ear. Singing with Luke gives me some kinda rush. A feeling I can’t quite describe but it’s a feeling I want to feel more often.

“Yeah, I'll be your hero Yeah”

“Cause I I can be everything you need If you're the one for me Like gravity I'll be unstoppable I, Yeah, I believe in destiny I may be an ordinary guy with and soul But if you're the one for me I'll be your hero”

“Yeah, I'll be your hero”

“Could you be the one Could you be the one for me”

“Yeah I'll be your hero”

The music fades out in our headphones, and soon, Connor’s applause sounds through it instead. I’m snapped back into reality, away from cloud 9, away from the pure bliss that’s singing with Luke and gazing into his eyes.

“That was amazing! Good job, guys!” Connor says, beaming.

Luke and I remove our headphones and he grabs my hand to lead me back to the decks where Connor welcomes us with open arms and a wide smile.

“I thought you and Julie were the most watchable duetters, but I’ve been proven wrong.”

I feel the heat rise to my cheeks before Luke snaps me out of it again.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Con. Can you send the finished product to the band and our manager? I’m sure they’d like to hear this. Don’t tell them who’s on backing vocals, though. They don’t need to know that.”

I swallow a lump in my throat and try to convince myself it’s probably not that deep. Luke doesn’t want to be seen with me. Not even by his band mates. It’s fine. It’s totally fine.

We wrap up the recording session and I drive Luke back to the coffee shop where he looks behind him and out of every single one of the windows, just to be sure the coast is clear of paparazzi.

“Thanks for the day, y/n. I really enjoyed spending time with you again.”

I force a smile. Ever since his statement to Connor about not wanting the band to know about me, I’ve been going over everything in my mind and it has caused me to fold in on myself.

“Yeah, it was fun.”

He gazes at me for a moment, inspecting every inch of my face as if detecting the lie from my eyes. When I think he’s just going to bid his goodbyes and get out, he doesn’t. Instead, he turns his body to me and reaches for his phone. I watch as he unlocks it and taps away on it before turning the device towards me. There’s a new contact form open on his screen.

“Gimme your number. I’d love to do this again some day.”

I furrow my brow while taking the phone in my hands. “Do you even have time to spend days with a nobody like me?” I don’t dare look at him and keep my eyes on the screen as I type my name and number.

He doesn’t say anything either until I finally cave and look up when giving his phone back. There’s a crease in his forehead as his eyebrows are knitted together in confusion.

“You’re not a nobody, y/n. I’d gladly make time for you. I told you, I loved spending days away from reality. Especially with you.” Fangirl Me is jumping out of my skin while Present Me tries to keep her cool and ignore all of the butterflies that erupt in her stomach.

“Cool,” Present Me says out loud while Fangirl Me is scolding her so hard.

Cool? Cool?! Seriously? Dude.

“I’ll text you, yeah?”

I nod my head in response and watch as he gets out of my car. Before I can even place my foot on the gas or shift out of park, my phone beeps in the pocket of my sweater. For the first time in forever, I smile when seeing an unknown number on my screen.

As I look out of my window, I find Luke looking at me with his hood pulled over his head again. He shoots me a quick smile and a wave before I turn to my phone again and type a reply.

I whip my head up to see his reaction. His jaw drops before his face turns into a scowl as he glares at me. Giggling and satisfied with the reaction, I place my phone on the passenger’s seat where Luke was sitting before and then pull out of the parking spot.

That night, I save Luke’s number to my phone. I go between “Luke P.”, “Patterson” and “Luke ❤️” but eventually decide on the funnier option and save him as “Poo Musician 💩”.

I stand in line at the coffee shop before 8:30 that morning and I’m a little nervous. Last night when I returned from my day with Luke, the two of us had been texting back and forth. I felt like a sixteen year old again. One of those giggly teenagers that’s texting their crush. Which is what I was, but it’s been a while since I felt like it.

Once I have an iced vanilla latte and an iced caramel macchiato, I head outside where I find a boy waiting by my car. He’s wearing a sleeveless shirt paired with a bright blue sleeveless sweater, his hood pulled far over his head so his face is hidden from prying eyes.

I don’t need to see his face to know it’s Luke. I’d recognize those muscles from a mile away. The way he’s leaning against the hood of my car and the way he’s holding his phone is a dead giveaway too.

“Your coffee, sir,” I say in a serious, deep voice.

Luke’s head snaps up, eyes wide. He looks like a deer caught in headlights until he notices it’s just me and relaxes. A smile etches onto his face as he tucks his phone into the pocket of his jeans whilst taking the coffee I ordered for him with his other hand.

He takes a cautious sip from the beverage. “Hm, Caramel Macchiato, someone’s been stalking me.” I know he’s just teasing, I can tell by the way one corner of his mouth curls up and his eyes have that childlike glint in them.

Making my way to the driver’s side of my car, I smile and say, “Contrary to popular belief, Patterson, I’m not a stalker. I just remembered your order from yesterday.”

Luke’s smile tells me something I’d rather not think about. It’s like he’s saying “You remembered my order” in that flirty way only he knows how to. I simply shrug before opening my door and getting in with Luke following my example. Without missing a beat, he fishes my phone from between my fingers and grabs my free hand to use my thumb to unlock my phone. This time, I don’t object and let him. I know that it’s just to get to my music app anyway.

While Journey’s Anyway You Want It plays through the car’s speakers, I pull out of the parking spot in front of the coffee shop and start driving to the next location I’d found during my research the other night.

“Where’re we going?” he asks, and I flashback to yesterday when he asked me the exact same question in that exact same way.

I smile as I place my cup in the cupholder between the two of us. “You’ll see.” I glance over, finding him tilting his head slightly and giving me that ‘Really?’ look. “I promise it’s very secluded and not a lot of people will be there.”

“Cool,” he says and sips. “Is this where you’re going to kidnap me and hold me for ransom? I bet you could get a lot of money for a Julie and The Phantoms band member.”

I snort at his remark. “How much do you think I could get for you?”

He scrunches up his nose in thought, which I catch as I take a quick glance at him again. As I face the road again, I reach for my coffee and take a quick sip, awaiting Luke’s response to my question.

“Like 10k?”

I nearly spit out my coffee. “10k?!” I screech, and his laugh thunders through my car. “Careful or I’ll actually kidnap you and hold you for ransom if I’m gonna earn that much.”

The laughter dies down and after a few moments of silence lingering in the air, Luke says, “How much do you think I’m worth?”

Without missing a beat, I respond to his question, dead serious. “Not even a dollar.”

Luke gasps, his mouth dropping in absolute disbelief while I can’t help but cackle loudly. Judging from this conversation alone, I’m positive today will be a good day. A good, fun day.

“I’m worth more than a dollar, right?”

“No, you’re right, I’d probably ask like a million and then no one will pay the ransom and you’ll have to stay with me for the rest of your life.”

I let out my best maniacal laughter as I feel him watch me. I know the exact look he’s giving me. The look. The one with the glistening eyes and the slightly turned up lips. The one all girls and gays swoon for. The one I would swoon for if I’d turn my head right now. But I don’t. For once in my life, I’m smart and keep my eyes on the road.

“You like me,” he states proudly.

“Slightly less strong dislike.” I’m lying through my teeth, but I’m hoping Luke won’t notice. Or at least not acknowledge it because I can already feel the heat rising to my cheeks.

“I’ll take it.”

He reaches forward and turns the volume up as Taylor Swift’s “Blank Space” floats through the speakers. Very loudly, and very obnoxiously, the boy begins to sing along. If it wasn’t for the velvet smooth voice, I would’ve scolded at him to keep it down. But the sound actually makes my toes curl and my stomach flutter. For a verse, I let him sing by himself while I enjoy his performance but by the chorus, I can’t withhold myself and sing along with him.

The rest of the ride is filled with belting of the road trip tunes, laced with patches of small talk. It’s the perfect car ride, and before we know it, we’ve arrived at our destination. Santa Fe Dam Recreation Area. The parking lot is practically empty, aside from two cars, which I’m assuming are the staff’s. It’s the perfect indication that I picked the right spot to go to, and I can tell Luke knows it too.

He’s bouncing in his seat, either from excitement or the amount of sugar that was in his iced coffee, and when I turn off the ignition and turn to him, he looks at me with the widest smile plastered on his face. He almost looks like an excited toddler on Christmas morning, ready to open his presents.

“I came here once with my parents when I was younger,” he tells me, “I love this place.”

His confession makes me smile. “Good because I’ve been scouring the internet for the perfect place.” He shoots me the look again. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re going to kiss me.”

He shrugs, “Maybe I want to.”

“So you want me to slap you?”

His smile fades away immediately. “Let’s go,” he grumbles and quickly gets out.

I heave in a deep breath, recollecting myself before getting out too and retrieving the backpack I brought, filled with stuff for today. Including my itinerary – or just a notebook filled with some ideas I had.

“How about we start with a bike ride across the park?” I suggest, pointing at the bike rental shop I found on Google the other night.

We walk into the rental place, expecting there to be bikes upon bikes but instead, we’re met with kayaks, pedal boats and go-karts. My eyebrows furrow, creasing my forehead as I look around the space. Why’s this called a bike rental when there are technically no bikes to rent? No actual bikes.

“I thought we were going for a bike ride?” Luke says, teasingly. I look up at him, and I think my face tells him enough about my knowledge about this place. My research clearly wasn’t sufficient.

Deciding to just roll with the circumstances, I roll my shoulders back and put a smile on my face. “Yeah, we’re going on a bike ride with one of these!” I say and point to the large, green go-kart. One of those that look like an old-school car at the front and have children’s seats in front of the terribly cushioned seats for adults. The ones with the small plastic wheel and bike pedals for two adults. I remember going on one of those big ones for six people with my family.

“You’re serious?” Luke asks, his eyes wide.

Instead of answering, I shoot him a smile before stepping forwards towards the staff member at the counter. The woman behind the counter looks no older than 45 and has long, billowing blonde locks that cascade down her shoulders. Her bright blue piercing eyes glisten as they land on the two of us, clearly glad she sees some customers so early in the day.

“Good morning,” she greets with a smile, “We open in half an hour.”

“Oh…” My research has been poor.

Before I can possibly think of an answer, Luke steps forward and flashes the woman a smile. I’m not sure if he’s going to use his manly charms or if he’s going to pull the “Don’t you know who I am?” card.

“Can’t you… make an exception for us?” he asks, leaning his elbow on the counter as he looks at the woman through his lashes. The woman looks up at Luke, her face like stone. She doesn’t recognize him and doesn’t fall for his charms either.

Shaking my head, I spring into action. I quickly change the ring on my index finger to my ring finger and wrap my arm around Luke’s bicep while the other rests on his chest, making sure the ring is as visible as can be. As I flutter my eyelashes at the woman, I let the words tumble out of my mouth.

“Please, ma’am? It’s our one year engagement anniversary and he was going to take me on this romantic bike ride….” I then lean forward over the counter. “He’s not very good at researching our dates, but he tries.”

The woman’s eyebrows knit together as her eyes dart from me to Luke and back.

“Aren’t you guys a little young to be engaged?”

Luke jumps into the improvisation spot. “We’ve been told that a lot but we’ve been best friends for years and there’s no one I’d rather spend the rest of my life with.” He looks down at me and when I glance up, too, he kisses the tip of my nose, which I then scrunch.

I ignore the flutters in my stomach and face the woman again. She seems to have softened, her eyes less icy than it was before. Then, she turns to her computer and clicks through a few browsers before facing us again.

“What do you guys want? The Surrey?” She points to the green bike-thing at the front of the shop. I nod my head in response. “Okay. You’ve got it for two hours for the price of one hour.”

A smile etches its way to my face. “That’s perfect, thank you.”

Luke pays the woman the rental fee and then she helps us get Surrey out of the garage. After bidding our goodbyes, Luke and I pedal off on the bike.

“One year engagement, really?” Luke asks me when we’re far enough from the rental and I switch my rings back around.

“Well, whatever you were doing didn’t work.”

He scoffs. “It was working.”

We pedal down the winding road with the wind blowing through our hair. I love how warm the breeze is and how the birds are chirping in the trees around us. This is the perfect day to go out and do this.

“What exactly were you planning to do?” I ask him, glancing up at him. He’s focusing on the road ahead of us, a comfortable smile resting on his lips while his eyes flick from one side to another, taking everything in.

He glances down at me, the smile turning into a smirk. “I was going to charm her with my manly wiles.”

“And how was that working for ya?”

For a second, we lock eyes. Luke has an annoyed look on his face while I can’t help but have my lips curl up on one side into a smirk. When he whips his head forward again, I notice the slight tint of pink covering his cheeks.

Did I just make Luke Patterson blush?

“So,” he coughs. “Whatcha wanna do?”

I shrug. “We could play twenty questions? Get to know each other better.”

He nods his head in response. “You wanna start?”

“That’s your first question?”

“That’s yours?”

I press my lips together, shutting myself up for just a moment before recomposing myself. I’m not going to lie, I totally Googled some questions to ask in a game of 20 questions. So, I’m prepared.

“If you had to be trapped on a deserted island with one of your friends, who would you pick and why?” Luke’s eyes widen at the question a little.

“Woah, straight in! I thought you were gonna start with ‘favorite color’ or something.” He chuckles lightly, and so do I. “Uhm… Not Alex, he’d probably be super anxious and pace all the way across the island and make me nervous. Not Reggie either, he’d be singing country songs the entire time, though he is a great cuddler. Maybe Julie? Though she’s gonna be miserable without Flynn….”

With every thought he says out loud, my smile grows bigger and bigger.

“You?” My heart leaps in my chest at his answer. “Yeah, I like spending time with you and what better place to get away from real life than a deserted island, right?”

Without missing a beat, the next words pour out of my mouth. “It’s cute how you think we’re friends now.” I surprise myself with the words I speak. We are friends, but I like winding him up into thinking we’re not.

“Friends who wanna kiss each other.”

Ignoring the heat rising to my cheeks, I reply, “You mean kill?”

Luke shakes his head, an amused smile on his face. “When are you going to admit that you like me?”

“Never – Next question.”

“Uhm… What was the last thing you stole or shoplifted?” he asks and I’m glad he doesn’t push any further on the fact I basically admitted that I like him.

“Oh! A magnet in a tourist shop in Lanzarote,” I reply, giggling a little at the memory. “I was there with a couple of friends during Spring Break and those magnets cost way too much for what they are and there was like a rack outside the shop. So, I shoplifted an overpriced Lanzarote magnet.”

Luke throws his head back as he laughs, nearly steering us into the bushes. “That’s amazing,” he cackles.

We cruise through the entire park for two entire hours, asking each other questions, and after returning the Surrey, we walk towards the lake where we settle down onto the blanket I brought for some food. I’d prepared an entire picnic basket for us to enjoy during our lunch.

“I find it very cute that you made an entire picnic basket for our first date.”

I smile. “I find it very cute that you think this is a date.”

He gives me the look again, but I ignore it and get every piece of food out of my backpack, sprawling it out around us. Sandwiches, chopped up vegetables and fruits, muffins,... All the delicious foods you’d find in a picnic.

“Tell me more about your childhood,” Luke then says as he takes a chicken sandwich and takes a bite. “You don’t talk about it much.”

My heart drops into my stomach. I wish he wouldn’t ask about that. Talking about my childhood means talking about my mother and I’ve been trying to avoid that for the past years. Not that many of my friends even know about that.

“I told you plenty.”

“You talked about your teenage years, but never about your childhood.”

I take a deep breath. He’s not going to shut up about this until I tell him. It’s not that I don’t trust him, it’s just that I don’t love talking about what happened with my mother. It’s something I’d much rather forget.

“There’s a reason for that,” I reply pointedly and then shut myself up by taking a sip from the box of orange juice. I’d packed one for the both of us, but I’m the only one who’s opened it already as Luke had gone straight in with the sandwiches.

Luke stares at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue. His eyes pierce through my soul and give me a sense of comfort. They lift a weight of my shoulders and chest that I hadn’t even noticed were there. His eyes feel like coming home. Comfortable. A place to relax. A place to be me, be myself.

I heave in a deep breath and place my juice box on my nervously bouncing knee, holding it with my hand. It doesn’t stop the bouncing, so now my whole body is practically shaking along with the movement.

“I–” I stop myself, reconsidering my words. “My childhood wasn’t the sunshine and roses it’s supposed to be.” I chuckle nervously and when I meet Luke’s eyes again, they’re looking at me with such intent that I almost launch forward and kiss him. But I don’t.

“Mom was… difficult to live with…” I start cautiously, not even daring to look at Luke as I speak and keep my eyes on the still lake in front of us. “She uhm… After I was born, she kinda went into postnatal depression. She didn’t take care of me, she barely even looked at me… At one point, it went so far that she got into an accident, on purpose, with me in the back. She did it a few times, even, to the point where dad just had to report it. She was admitted to the psych ward and that was that... I was ten at the time.” I swallow to hold back the tears that are pricking behind my eyes.

Feeling a soft brush of the hand on my knee, I glance up, meeting Luke’s eyes. They give me that sense of comfort again, that sense of home, the reassurance that I’m okay.

“We haven’t really seen her since. She’s out of our lives…” I sniffle and place my hand over Luke’s, giving it a thankful squeeze. “I don’t like talking about it.”

Luke carefully laces his fingers through mine, his cold rings cooling my warm hand. “I’m sorry I brought it up.” I shrug dismissively. “But thank you for telling me.”

“So, tell me,” I lift our entwined hands for a second as though pulling us back into reality. “How did Sunset Curve-slash-Julie and The Phantoms came to be?”

Luke chuckles before engulfing our locked hands with his other and tumbling into the origin story of the bands he was in. He talks about meeting Reggie and Alex in primary school, and then meeting Bobby in middle school. He explains how they started the band in music class and then continued playing together until Bobby moved away from Los Angeles. The story then lapses into giggles and chuckles about all the things they tried to keep Sunset Curve alive, but terribly failed.

“But then we met Julie in high school and – the rest is history.”

We’re clearing up our mess before making our way back towards the car. I love hearing Luke talk, especially about the band. It makes his eyes light up and he gets all bouncy and enthusiastic. It’s the cutest side of Luke I ever did see in the past few days of hanging out with him.

I take one last look at the lake where tiny dots of humans are floating along on the lake in their tiny boats. There are just a few, so nothing to worry about, but it does make me want to go kayaking too. Mostly because I don’t want the day to end.

“Wanna go kayaking?” I ask Luke, pulling him to a halt by tugging at our still intertwined hands. His eyes dart from mine to the lake and back. I can tell he’s debating it, but then he nods and a smile appears on his face.

With our hands intertwined, we go back to the rental place and ask the woman for a double kayak. We pay, put on the safety vests she’s given us and then proceed onto the water. As we pedal along, Luke tells me about all the adventures he’s been on with his friends and how he used to do this all the time before his schedule got so crazy.

Every now and again, he stops and pretends to tip the kayak, making me squeal each and every time whilst he laughs his most maniacal laugh.

The wall I’d built around my heart was slowly crumbling. Every laugh, every touch, every glance took away a small part of the brick wall. I’m falling in love with the boy I’d had a crush on and then strongly disliked for a good five-ish days.

Getting distracted was not a good idea as I’m not prepared for what follows next. Luke pretends to tip it over again, but this time, he wobbles too hard and actually makes the boat topple overhead. I squeal, but quickly shut my mouth as I tumble into the water, making sure not too much of the lake’s contents gets into my body.

“Patterson!” I scowl as I crash the surface again and find Luke laughing a few feet away. His brown, shaggy hair sticks to his head, dripping small drops of water onto his face. If I wasn’t so angry at him, I would definitely kiss him right here, right now.

“I hate you!” I splash some water at him as the words roll off my lips. Luke’s laughter abruptly stops and he stares at me. His once glistening eyes dull down while his mouth falters into a frown.

“You do?”

My face softens as I watch him. He looks so beautiful with his hair all dishevelled and the reflection of the sun on the water mirroring onto his face. I want to kiss him. I want to kiss him so bad.

I swim closer towards him and stroke his wet hair out of his face. My breath hitches in my throat at how close we are but I try to play it off by keeping my hands on his face and my eyes locked with his. I notice his eyes flicking down to my lips a few times, telling me he wants to kiss me as much as I want to kiss him.

Should I? Full throttle? Or step on the brakes?

I don’t even get the time to think about it as Luke presses his lips to mine. Now I don’t hesitate a single moment and immediately kiss him back. Sliding my hands into his wet locks and pressing my body as close as I can, I melt entirely into him. The same sense of bliss I have when singing with Luke washes over me and I find myself on cloud 9 again.

We pull back after a moment to catch our breath. The glint in his eyes is back and his mouth, though a little swollen and red, curls up into a smile. He presses one more kiss to my nose before helping me towards the shore. We climb out of the water and bring the boat back to the rental place, along with our safety vests.

Grabbing my backpack I had left with the woman for safekeeping, Luke and I bid our goodbyes and leave the rental, intertwining our hands again. The feeling his hand in mine gives me will never get old.

As we get to the car again, I yawn, feeling a sense of exhaustion wash over me. Luke smiles upon noticing this and takes the keys from my hand. Wordlessly, he presses a kiss to my forehead and then leads me to the passenger side. He opens the door and lets me get in before shutting the door and jogging to the other side.

The car is filled with a comfortable silence, just the crackling of a song playing on the radio filling out the quietness. I rest my head against the headrest and glance at Luke every now and again as he drives Sabrina. He has that one-hand feel on the steering wheel and the other rest comfortably in mine on the gearshift.

“I had a lot of fun today,” I mumble, unable to speak any louder.

A smile etches its way to Luke’s face. “Me too.” He takes a quick glance at me and then lifts our hands to plant a kiss on my knuckles. “Our band’s house is closer, you want to stop there and get us dry before you go home?”

I hum softly, letting my eyes fall shut for a moment. Luke’s thumb grazing the back of my hand almost lulls me to sleep until he curses before the car comes to a halt. He pulls his hand away from mine and when I look up, the driveway and street in front of the enormous white-brick house is filled with dozens of cars.

“Fuck, I forgot about the album wrap party,” he grumbles and then looks over at me. I’m shivering from the cold and exhaustion. “I can’t let you drive home like that.”

I’m unsure if he’s talking to me or pondering out loud, but I shake my head instead. “It’s fine,” I say. “My house isn’t that far away… I think…”

“No, y/n. I’m not letting you drive home exhausted and cold.” His voice is stern, yet laced with a bit of worry. “You’re gonna come in and I’m– I’m gonna bring you up to my room. You can dry off there and maybe take a nap or something. Yeah! Yeah, that’s it!” He sounds way too excited about something so banal.

He hops out of the car and quickly jogs over to my side whilst I’m already opening the door. Before I could react, he tugs me towards the house. I can barely get my bearings or take the time to look where I’m going before I’m pulled into a room.

“There are shirts and joggers in the dresser over there, pick out whichever you like and then take a nap or something. I’ll be back before you know it.” He kisses my cheek and then dashes towards the door.

“You’re just gonna leave me here?”

He lets go of the door handle and slowly turns towards me. His eyes are laced with regret as he takes in the sight in front of him. I must look ridiculous with my hair and clothes wet and bags under my eyes.

“Please, y/n? I can’t have people know about us, okay? I just – can’t…”

Turning on his heel, he opens the door and leaves me in his bedroom all alone. I take a minute to let the information process in my brain before turning around and taking in the room I’m in.

The walls are painted white, except for the one wall behind his bed that’s a muted dark blue. His bed is king size and on either side is a nightstand. I inch closer to the one that’s actually filled with stuff, which I’m assuming is the one he uses most. Nightstand contents often tell a lot about a person. His contains the band’s autobiography, “Bruce Springsteen: All The Songs” and “Beach Read” by Emily Henry, the book I started the other week and shared on Instagram Stories.

Would he have seen that and decided to read it too?

Shaking the ridiculous thought out of my head, I move over to his dresser and take out a pair of joggers and his Rush muscle tank I’ve seen him in many a time during gigs. I peel my drenched clothes off my body and get into Luke’s freshly washed ones. They smell of his laundry products. It’s a fresh and calming scent.

For a while, I look around his room. The books on the shelves and the pictures on the walls, most of which of the band and some of him and Carrie Wilson. There had been a rumor about him dating the Instagram Influencer, but I’d never believed it until I saw her face pop up in some of the framed photos in his room.

I decide to go and venture about the house since all the commotion seems to be outside in the garden. I weave through hallway upon hallway, finding more photos and more things that belong to the band. The living room walls are adorned with platinum records and other awards they’d won over the two years they’d been active in the music industry. I can’t help but feel a sense of pride rush over me. That’s my favorite band right there. That’s the boy I’ve fallen in love with.

“Excuse me – Who are you?”

The voice makes me jump out of my skin. I thought everyone was outside. When I look up, I find the perfectly flawless face of Carrie Wilson. Her long, blonde hair cascades into curls down her shoulders and back while her round, brown eyes stare at me with intent and curiosity.

“Oh, sorry. I’m y/n. I–” I stop myself, remembering Luke didn’t want anyone to know about us. That includes his girlfriend – or ex-girlfriend.

Carrie’s mouth curls up into an amused, curious smile, catching onto what’s happening. “You’re Luke’s new adventure, aren’t you?” I huff out the breath I was holding. It’s a telling huff, I’m sure. “You are…” She trails off and inspects me for a second before continuing. “Just so you know, it’s not going to work. Luke’s too infatuated with this lifestyle of his. He loves his job, he loves his stardom. He loves it too much to ever focus on a partner. Believe me, we tried.”

I exhale at the use of her past tense, but then all the other information downs on me. Luke’s life is so much different from mine. While I work several jobs to pay for college and still live with my dad, he lives by himself and tours the world. He’s too busy to start anything serious with me. Whatever happened in the last few days was just temporary.

“You seem sweet, y/n, so I’m going to be frank. Get out before it’s too late. You’re only gonna get hurt if you’re gonna stay.” As she passes me, she places a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

If my brain wasn’t going a mile a second about everything she’s telling me, I would be caught off guard by how sweet Carrie Wilson is. She’s always portrayed as this complete ego-centric bitch who used people to her advantage.

The exhaustion taking over, I shuffle back upstairs and sit down on Luke’s bed but when I hear the commotion outside die down and guitar strums float through the air into the house, I grow curious. I get up from the bed and make a beeline towards the ceiling-to-floor glass doors that give out onto a balcony. I carefully open the door and step out, the summer breeze tickling my skin while Luke’s voice reaches my ears.

The balcony looks out onto the garden, it’s just out of sight from where everyone’s huddled up around the band. I lean my elbows on the bannister and watch on as Luke’s voice floated through the air.

“I'm no superman I can take your hand And fly you anywhere you wanna go, yeah I can read your mind Like a billboard sign And tell you everything you wanna hear, but I'll be your hero”

I smile at the memory of us in the studio yesterday. The last few days have been perfect. Just… Perfect. And now this girl has to come and ruin it by pulling me back into reality.

“Cause I, I can be everything you need If you're the one for me, like gravity, I'll be unstoppable I, yeah I believe in destiny I may be an ordinary guy without his soul But if you're the one for me Then I'll be a hero Oh, I'll be a hero, yeah I'll be a hero”

It’s not that Carrie isn’t right. She is. Luke is way too busy with the band and his fame and everything around it. He doesn’t have time or room between those things for me. Not for an ordinary girl. Not for anyone.

“So incredible Some kinda miracle That when it's meant to be, I'll become a hero, oh So I'll wait, wait, wait, wait for you”

Luke’s eyes meet mine as he hits that high note and his mouth curls up into that beautiful smile I’ve come to love. Once again, I’ve fallen in love with someone who would never reciprocate those feelings. If I don’t get out now, I’m going to get hurt.

“Yeah I'll be a hero Cause I, I can be everything you need If you're the one for me, like gravity, I'll be unstoppable I, yeah I believe in destiny I may be an ordinary guy without his soul But if you're the one for me I'll be a hero Yeah, yeah I'll be a hero, yeah I'll be a hero Hero”

As the last notes of his song ring out into the night, I grab my still wet clothes and my keys Luke left on the dresser, and then leave the house. My heart breaks with every step I take, but I know it’s what’s best for me. It’s what’s best for both of us. There’s no room for me in his life. Like he said, he’s no superman, he can’t handle this many things at once. Not even a hero would be able to.

Everything taglist:

@wanniiieeee @phantompogues

JATP taglist:

@hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @charliesmountains @thedarkqueenofavalon @calamitykaty @caitsymichelle13 @wiselight @kcd15 @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @stars-soph @kinda-really-lost @notasofti @stellasmusa @n0wornever @kaitieskidmore1 @tefilovesreading @pxperphxntom @crybabyddl @crybabyddl @headheartbellarke @authentic-gillespie @happinessinthedarkesttimes @bright-molina @rangerelik @cordeliascrown @willex-owns-my-heart @fangirlangioma @frickin-bats @flower-name @jaskiers-sweetkiss @jandthephantoms @kelpwithawhy @the-hufflepuff-hunter @lookingthroughmirrors @buckybarnesishot310 @echocharm17618 @littlemissaddict @mystic-writings @joynerxmercer @brooke0297 @magicalxdaydream @musicianspiritsblog @bexxy @ruvaitkevicius @whitetigerlover17 @stressyanddepressysimp @talk-on-the-street @theolivekiddo @sunsetcurvej @teti-menchon0604 @candycornmgg @gray_jato

Charlie/Luke taglist:

@lukeys-giggle @gingerxarmy @lovesanimals @lolychu @perfectlywrongformend3s @luckylouiebug @camiladelrio98 @myfriendscallmebeans @rachmmb @whitemanshoe19 @killerqueenfan

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatpsongficfeb #luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson fic #luke jatp #luke patterson x fem!reader #modern!au #StarStruck

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abarbaricyalp · 4 years ago

Note

hi. you still taking prompts? sambucky meet cute: the lobby of some kind of really tall building and they both have to get to the to top floors. bucky gets to the elevator first, pushes the "door close" button cause he's in a hurry even though he sees sam rushing towards it, but sam gets there just in time. he saw what bucky did so in retaliation he just pushes every single button to make bucky late. now they're stuck in the longest elevator ride, having to stop at every floor

Friend, this is not a meet cute. This is full on meet ugly 😅

AO3 link in the reblog

Push All My Buttons

Bucky was being haunted. That was the only logical explanation for how someone followed him from Brooklyn to Manhattan, mostly on foot. He’d seen the same guy on two trains, across approximately a thousand city blocks, and in the dumb cafe that Bucky squeezed into five seconds after it opened.

And now, the same handsome young black man was standing in the middle of the Stark Tower lobby, looking lost. Bucky quickly hit the close door button of the elevator that he blessedly had to himself. Apparently, he hit it too loud because the guy’s gaze snapped over to him and recognition lit on his face.

Bucky hit Close Door again.

“Hey! Could you hold that!” the guy called, jogging across the lobby floor and avoiding milling people. The fucking tourists on the ground level were killer.

Bucky was not letting a stalker into the elevator with him when he had 91 floors to get up. He hit Close Door for a third time.

Finally, the guy seemed to realize what Bucky was doing and he scowled before tossing his army bag towards the closing doors. They hit the bag and opened up just in time for the guy to jog over, grab his bag, and step inside.

“You’re kind of an asshole,” he said as he slung the duffle over his shoulder again.

“I’m late to a meeting,” Bucky said, which was true. Mostly what he wanted to say was ‘don’t kill me and wear my face as a mask’ or whatever someone who’d followed him over three boroughs would want to do.

The man looked over at him from the corner of his eyes, looked at the highlighted 91 and then reached over to smooth his hand up every single button on the machine. 2-93 lit up.

Bucky stared.

The man crossed his arms. “Now we’re both late.”

92 and 93 unlit themselves. Those were Stark’s personal suites. 2-91 remained lit.

“You fucking asshole,” Bucky groaned and dragged his hands over his face. “Why would you do that? I’m meeting with Stark. I’ve got his-his-his fucking coffee. Jesus.”

“Because I’d rather be late and piss you off than be on time and let you get away with trying to close the door in my face.”

“What was the point of following me all the way around the city? Are you trying to make my life difficult?”

Now the man fully turned to look over at him. The elevator stopped on the second floor and no one was waiting. “I’m not following you. I don’t even know who you are.”

“Are you kidding?” Bucky asked. “You’ve been on my ass since Lloyd’s, in Brooklyn.”

The man frowned. The elevator eased up to the next floor. “Why would you stop at Lloyd’s if you were coming all the way in here?”

“I like to eat on my commute, that’s not the point! You followed me!”

“Pal, I dunno how to tell you that anyone coming from Brooklyn to Stark Tower’s gotta take a pretty similar route.”

“It’s Bucky, pal.”

“Sam,” the guy said and then honest to God offered his hand out like he wasn’t actively ruining Bucky’s life.

On the fifth floor, someone stepped into the elevator, looked at the buttons and stepped back out. Bucky shook Sam’s hand with a resigned sigh.

“Where’d you get that piece of machinery on your arm?” Sam asked around floor eight.

“It’s not on my arm,” Bucky answered. “It is my arm.”

Sam rolled his eyes and punched the door close button. “Fine, where’d you get that piece of machinery on your torso?”

“It’s not Stark tech,” he answered because he knew that was actually what Sam was asking about. He let his eyes slide over Sam’s body quickly, trying to discern if Sam was here for a prosthetic. The bag on his shoulder and the silver ball-chain around his neck gave away that he was military. Stark Industries had a veterans program, so there was a good population of soldiers walking around the building at any given time. Sam was wearing pants, so Bucky couldn’t be totally sure he didn’t have a bad leg, but he hadn’t clocked any limp or awkward gait since Brooklyn. “You here for a prosthetic?” he asked anyway.

Sam snorted and shook his head. The door opened again and someone got on before reaching to press the ground level button.

“Shit,” the woman said, upon seeing everything else lit up. She quickly hit the door open button and jumped back out. “You know, if you two wanted extra time together, having the doors open on every floor was probably a bad idea.”

“That’s not what we--” Bucky started to argue, but the doors slid shut in front of him.

“Anyway,” Sam started again. “I’m not here for a prosthetic. I’m here with Colonel Rhodes.”

“Wow, big man on campus,” Bucky said drily.

“Oh, right, you’re so unimportant, going up to the 91st floor,” Sam shot back.

“I work here,” Bucky said. He held up the quickly cooling coffee in his hands. “Glorified secretary most days, but I’m supposed to be an engineer.”

“What kind of machines do you work with?”

“Not the planes or the suits. Military tech, mostly. I try to stay away from weapons when I can.”

“Did you serve?” Sam asked.

Wish I hadn’t, Bucky wanted to say. “Nah, actually I lost my arm when Stark flew into an uncaffeinated rage and threw a saw at me.”

“Whatever, man. There’s a thousand ways to lose an arm. It ain’t gotta be out in the desert.” His cheeks didn’t quite color, but he crossed his arms and stared ahead.

“Mountains,” Bucky corrected. “Special OPs.”

“Oh, right, but I’m the big man on campus,” Sam said, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“Rhodes is a big deal around here. You think Stark’s letting him out of his sight for just anyone?”

“The Air Force is testing a new gadget. Rhodes is involved ‘cause Air Force. Maybe you worked on it.”

“Yeah, maybe. It’s a big program. Stark’s got a lot of things going on all at once. Lots of engineers and designers.”

The elevator stopped on the 25th floor and Sam and Bucky both said, “We’re going up,” at the same time to keep the group of suits from crowding into the elevator with them.

Sam kicked his bag into the corner and sat down heavily in front of it, leaning back and closing his eyes. “So you’re a soldier who works for Stark Industries but didn’t get your prosthetic from him, even though he’s the cutting edge of prosthetics and has a full-paid program for those injured in duty.”

Bucky gave up and sat down too. He cradled the coffee cup between his legs, which was probably a bad idea, but this whole morning had been bad. “My story’s a little more complicated than that,” he said. “A lot more twists and turns. My arm is still high tech, though. I asked for a flamethrower, or at least a saw hand but I didn’t get it.”

Sam laughed and, for the first time all morning, Bucky thought maybe he wasn’t so angry at him anymore. Sam laughed like nothing had ever hurt him before, which made it feel like maybe nothing had hurt Bucky either. “Well, there’s your problem. Stark would’ve definitely given you that, from what I hear about the man.”

Bucky grinned over at him and dropped his head back against the wall. It was uncomfortable and the jostling of the car every few seconds rattled his brain, but it beat standing up, or keeping his eyes on Sam for too long. “You’re still in the service?”

“Well, not all of us are so lucky to get a medical discharge on our first tour.”

“Oh, yeah, real luck of the Irish, me. And it was my second. I wasn’t SpecOps until I finished my first stint in the army.”

“Right, right,” Sam said. Then, “You joined up young.”

“So did you. I mean, I assume you’re on your second or third tour too, if you’re being asked to work with Rhodes.”

“Second. I took a long leave to do some school stuff.”

“Oh, so working with Rhodes and you’re smart. You really are the whole package.”

“I’m working with Colonel Rhodes because I’m smart,” Sam corrected. “I could probably take your job. I’m real techy.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t. I’m fond of my apartment and I definitely can’t afford it without being here.”

“Right, I assume you make buck working for Stark.”

“Eh, he’s still a multi-billionaire, he could pay us more.”

“What’s that say about the military then?”

“I’ll drink to that, bro.”

Sam chuckled again and opened his eyes to glance over at Bucky. “How does someone go from losing their arm in a SpecOps mission to working for Stark Industries.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. It’s at least a three course discussion.”

The elevator dinged on level 39 and paused, though there was no one there.

“Almost halfway up,” Sam pointed out.

“You are good at math,” Bucky joked just to see Sam roll his eyes again, which he did. “Why Air Force?” he asked when the doors decided to shut again.

“It’s gonna sound so stupid, but I’ve been dreaming about flying since I was a little kid. I wanted to be an astronaut and a lot of astronauts were in the military. So, air force. Figured if I never got to space, at least I spent years in the air anyway.”

Bucky didn’t think that was stupid at all. “You’re right, that’s pretty dumb.” Sam flipped him off with a laugh. “Are you a good pilot?”

“Pal, I’m one of the best out there.”

“God, you chair force guys are all the same,” Bucky said. He squawked as Sam leaned over to tackle him down. “Coffee, coffee! Sam, if you spill Stark’s coffee I’ll make you explain it to him!” he threatened as Sam pulled him away from the cup that had managed to remain upright by an unlikely bout of luck and physics.

Sam was fucking strong, wrangling Bucky down and holding him still. Sure, he was on his knees and Bucky’s legs were mostly trapped under him, but still. Bucky wasn’t a small guy and the prosthetic wasn’t light either but Sam had tugged him out of the corner anyway.

“Oh my God, seriously?” a guy asked on the next floor.

Bucky took the moment of distraction to dig his knee into Sam’s ribs and flip them over as the doors shut again. He locked his fingers around Sam’s wrist and held it to the floor. Sam tugged at the hold futilely.

“Shit, what’s that made out of?”

“That’s another three course answer.”

“At this rate? No chance,” Sam said and got his foot braced against Bucky’s shoulder before shoving him off. Bucky sat back and made sure the coffee was still standing. Sam leaned up against the wall by the doors. They both took in heavy breaths.

“What are you doing with Rhodes?” Bucky asked at floor fifty, when he was pretty positive they weren’t about to leap at each other again.

“Maybe that’s a three course answer,” Sam responded with a small smirk.

“I didn’t know Stark was working on planes with the Air Force.”

“Did I say plane?”

“Helicopters, whatever,” Bucky amended with a wave of his hand. “What do you fly?”

“I’m pararescue.”

Bucky let out a low whistle. “Shit, that’s more impressive than working with Rhodes, maybe. You a doctor?”

“I’ve got triage training, but I’m not, like, ready to walk into an E.R. as soon as I get home or anything.” Sam ran his hand over his buzzed hair and Bucky suddenly wanted to know what it looked like grown out, or if he’d ever kept it long. How he styled it and if he had facial hair and what he was hiding under his shirt and Jesus Christ, he needed to think about anything else.

“Well, from what I’ve seen, your beside manner probably sucks.”

Sam kicked out his foot lamely, missing Bucky’s by a mile. “You ain’t hurt. I don’t gotta give you no bedside manner.”

“What floor do you want off on?” Bucky asked after a glance at the rapidly dimming lights on on the button panel.

“85.”

“Right, yeah, Rhodes works there. We’re at 70 now.”

“What’s it like? Just offices?”

“Nah, he’s got a whole training floor. There’re a few offices, a reception area, but there’s also a gym and some space for simulated battle, sparring rooms. It’s pretty cool. You’ll have a lot of room for whatever he’s doing.”

Sam nodded and looked over at the gaping doors with the first look of unease he’d had all morning.

“You nervous?”

“You would be too,” Sam answered. “If you knew what I was doing. But, hey,” he looked away as the doors shut, “my partner’s already up there, so I can’t make any more of a fool of myself than he probably already has.”

Bucky grinned and shrugged. “I dunno about that. You seem pretty incapable,” he said sarcastically.

Sam kicked out his leg again and then stood up and grabbed his bag from next to Bucky. “You work here every day?”

Bucky nodded and took Sam’s hand when he offered it down to him to haul himself up. “9 to too late.”

“Well, I’m around for a few weeks. Maybe we could walk together instead of around each other next time,” he suggested.

Bucky ignored the swooping of his stomach. “Yeah, if you can keep up.”

Sam jostled his ribs with an elbow. “I can keep up. You’re the one with the machine on your arm.”

“Yeah, and what about it? I could hand-walk faster than you could run.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Sam snorted. The door opened on floor 80 and Sam’s mouth screwed to one side briefly before he looked at Bucky. “Maybe you’ll get my number out of all of this eventually.”

“Maybe I don’t want it after this stunt.”

Sam placed his hand on Bucky’s metal shoulder solemnly. “You want it.”

With a grin, Bucky shrugged Sam off and shoved him forward. “Get outta here, Wilson.”

“How’d you know--?” Sam asked, taking half a step back to the doors.

Bucky reached over to trace his fingers over the name patch on the other side of the bag. “I’m just a good guesser.”

“Hey, that’s not fair. What’s your--”

The door shut between them and Bucky sagged back against the wall with a sigh. His heart was racing like he was a teenager again and his head felt cloudy. This meeting was not going to go well at this point. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to focus on anything but Sam’s smile or the way he looked in boots or the weight of him above Bucky’s body.

When the elevator dinged on 91, he grabbed Stark’s coffee and let himself off and then almost immediately ran into Rhodes.

“Oh, hey, sorry. Hey, I was just on the elevator with your meeting,” he said. “Sorry he’s late. I hit a bunch of buttons on accident when I got in,” Bucky lied as he passed the coffee to Stark.

“No harm, no foul,” Rhodey said easily. “Clearly I wasn’t even down there. I was actually waiting on you.”

“Me? What for? I’m not working on anything military.”

“You’re not?” Stark asked around a mouthful of coffee. “You assigning yourself projects now?”

“You didn’t say anything about the wings being military. I mean, how would that even work? It’d put a soldier in the air bare.”

“Yeah,” Stark agreed sarcastically and clapped a hand down on Bucky’s metal arm. “What kind of soldier runs around without full body protection.”

“What are you calling the project?” Rhodey asked, guiding the discussion back to where it was supposed to be.

“EXO-Falcon,” Bucky said. “I was modeling it after some of Stark’s EXO-skeleton suits, but it’s much more compact, situated on the back with all support sitting around the chest and ribs.”

Rhodey nodded. “Can I see them?”

Bucky quickly dashed to his work bench and came back with the wings in their case. “They’re carbon fiber, which makes them a little more flexible and keeps them a little lighter weight. I had thought about doing interlocking plates like my arm, but it wasn’t working. I took some of the more basic structures of my arm and modeled a folding mechanism out of it instead. The wings retract into and out of the case.”

He pulled the jetpack on and stepped away from the other work spaces before clicking the wings open. They snapped out behind him, grand and proud. Not unlike how Bucky was feeling at that moment.

“And the jetpack? Is that ready to go?” Rhodey asked.

Bucky shifted from foot to foot. “Well, in theory. I haven’t tested it out yet ‘cause I’m not trained to do things like that, but I’ve put DUM-E into the air and nothing blew up.”

“Well, the Air National Guard guys here today will be thrilled to hear that,” Stark said. “Shall we?”

“You don’t wanna test the jets before you put it on someone?” Bucky asked, a little strangled. He trusted his design. But he really, really hadn’t put as much time into the whole human safety element as he did the ‘up and running’ element.

“We’ll strap a crash test dummy to them in over the mats. It’ll be fine. The fire suppression system on 85 is better than up here.”

“No it isn’t. It’s just further from your suites,” Rhodey said.

Stark shrugged and tossed a piece of pastry in his mouth. “It’s my building. I say we go down to 85.”

“Well, that’s where I left your trainee or whatever too,” Bucky said as he shrugged off the pack and packed it all back up. “Do you want me to grab the other pack?”

“No worries, I’ve already moved it,” Stark said. “I knew Rhodes was coming by. You’re welcome, those things are heavy.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t have DUM-E move it,” Rhodey teased. He made his way over to the elevator and Bucky followed with Stark on his heels. The ride down to 85 was much faster than the ride up to 91. It was a miracle what not hitting every button could do. They stepped out onto the floor and made their way to the training mats, where two other people were already standing.

“Barnes, I’d like to keep you on the Falcon project,” Rhodey said. “No one knows the wings like you do. That being said, you’ll be working with live test subjects now, so it’s a little more critical.”

“Hey, you don’t have to say it that way!” the blond man in the middle of the room said. “Call us, like, Top Guns or something.”

“You don’t get to choose your nickname around here,” Stark called over, propping himself up on a stack of sparring mats to watch from afar. “Ask Manchurian Candidate. He definitely didn’t choose his.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Barnes, this Sergeant Wiatrek and Sergeant Wilson.”

Fuck.

“It’s Barnes, huh?” Sam asked, smugly crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, Sammy, you didn’t hook up with this guy already did you?” the blond asked in teasing horror.

“Screw you, no. I met him this morning.”

“Ah,” Rhodey said with a grin. “This was the meeting you made late,” he said to Bucky.

“Yeah, we met this morning,” Bucky confirmed with a raging blush. How was this his life?

“Well, good, you can get right to work on the wings,” Rhodey said. “Let me go find a crash dummy.”

“DUM-E,” Stark called as Rhodey started away.

“I’ll find that doll first,” Rhodey challenged.

Bucky turned from their bickering and looked at Sam, then the blond next to him.

“It’s Riley,” the other man said and offered out his hand. “I’m better conversation than this one.”

Bucky doubted it. He shook the guy’s hand and then held out the briefcase like a shield between him and Sam’s teasing gaze. “Do you wanna see the wings?”

Riley nodded eagerly and Bucky moved to another stack of mats to open the case. Riley and Sam stood on either side of him. As Riley pulled the jetpack free, Sam pulled out his phone. Bucky thought he was going to film his friend inevitably crashing, but instead he turned on the auto-help.

“Hey, where’s the nearest three-course restaurant?” he asked without looking away from Bucky, without his grin faltering.

Bucky dragged his hands down his face as he looked at Sam. Riley yelped behind them after the tell-tell whoosh of the jet pack, but Sam still didn’t look away. Bucky couldn’t either.

#sambucky #sambucky fanfic #sambucky fanfiction #sam wilson #bucky barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon #the winter soldier #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #i answer things

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allisondraste · 4 years ago

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Cockroaches and Other Things That Just Keep On Living

Fandom: Mass Effect

Ship: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian

Word Count: 4019

Summary: It's only been two weeks since the Reaper War ended, and the Alliance is already trying to bury Shepard.

[Click Here for A03]

Two weeks. It had only been two weeks since the war ended, since that devastating flash of red light burst from the Citadel and bounced off every active relay in the galaxy, since the Reapers fell dead in space and the Normandy crash landed on some tropical little human colony world just on the edge of the Terminus Systems. It had just been two weeks, but the Alliance and the rest of the whole damn galaxy were already willing to declare Shepard dead. And to add insult to injury, they’d given Garrus the great honor and privilege of hanging her name up on a memorial wall in some trite ceremony to make the crew feel better.

“There isn’t anyone who could’ve been at the epicenter of that blast and survived,” Hackett had explained, far too matter-of-factly. “It’s time for us to move forward.”

“Shepard isn’t just anyone,” Garrus had replied, and then promptly told the admiral where to shove his plaque. It was not his finest moment.

Now, he sat in the mess hall, alone and staring down at the dextro-amino rations he’d barely touched. The bastardized version of some overly seasoned human dish would have been unappetizing even if he had an appetite. But he didn’t. Something about the person he loved being declared dead left a sour taste in his mouth. He’d only even tried to eat because Liara insisted, and he wasn’t in the mood for another well meant lecture about taking care of himself.

No longer willing to bother, he shoved the plate away from him with the back of his hand, and looked up in just enough time to catch Williams walk past him. She stopped, performed a proper about-face and marched up to his table.

“Hey,” Ash greeted him like she’d never spoken to him before in her life.

“Hey,” Garrus replied and watched as she shifted uncomfortably and darted her eyes around the entire room before meeting his gaze.

She motioned to an empty seat across the table from him. “Can I— I mean, do you want some company? You just look—”

“Like I’m one news vid about the ‘late’ Commander Shepard away from going postal?” He let out a derisive snort. “Yeah.”

Williams smirked and eased herself down onto the bench without waiting for him to agree to her company. “I was going to say ‘like shit,’ but that works too.”

He answered her dryly. “Gee. Thanks.”

There was a pause in conversation, then Ash tilted her head in that sympathetic way every human who knew him seemed to do since Earth. “Seriously though… how are you holding up?”

I’m not , Garrus thought, but the words didn’t make it to his mouth, just sarcasm.. “Didn’t realize you cared… or is this just one of those human things where you pretend to care for my benefit?”

She leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “Do I seem like the kind of person who pretends to do anything for anyone’s benefit, especially yours?”

He laughed. “Fair.”

“Listen, this is off the record but… Hackett had that mouthful coming.” She laughed and shook her head. “I’m just glad it was you that said it and not me because, well, I like my job.”

If anyone had told Garrus that one day, he’d have a heart-to-heart with the human woman who’d spent their entire first mission together shooting daggers at him from across Normandy’s shuttle bay, he’d have said they were crazy. But there they were, raw from the absence of someone who meant so much to the both of them.

“It’s been two weeks,” he muttered, looking down at his hands. “ Two. They haven’t even found her bod—“ he tried and failed to choke back the lump in his throat, but continued talking anyway, glancing up at her— “It’s too damn soon, Ash.”

“I know,” came her firm reply as she reached across the table. She hesitated for a split second, but then let her hand fall on top of his. Deep brown eyes welled up with tears that she tried to blink away. She let out a frustrated huff as one rolled down her cheek anyway, then cleared her throat. “ Damn. Pretend this isn’t happening.” “Pretend what isn’t happening, Williams?”

“Perfect,” she remarked, wiping her face with the heel of her free hand and laughing. “Kind of hard to believe it’s only been three years since we tracked down Saren. Feels like a lifetime ago.”

“And look at us now, being mostly civil,” he said with a sigh, staring down at Ash’s hand. Alien as it was, it reminded him of Shepard’s, strong to be as small as it was, with too many fingers. He recalled the many times those fingers had traced the hard edges of his face, how that hand had fit so comfortably into his (after a few clumsy attempts, of course). He’d take another missile to the face to hold it again.

“You know, Shepard worked her ass off to convince me it’d be fine having aliens on board an Alliance vessel,” Ash observed playfully, pulling him from his thoughts.

“You? Paranoid over a handful of non-humans? I’m shocked .”

“Nothing personal,” she explained,“Just didn’t feel comfortable sharing a station with a guy whose grandpa probably shot at mine during the War.”

“Hate to break it to you but—” he leaned back in his seat— “My grandfather was just a run of the mill C-Sec officer. All he would have done was write your grandfather a nasty citation. ‘Being human in Citadel space,’ used to be a finable offense.”

“God,” she said with another laugh, “Back then, I rolled my eyes and told Shepard I’d do whatever she wanted me to do. ‘You tell me to jump, I ask how high. You tell me to kiss a turian, I’ll ask which cheek.’”

“We don’t really have cheeks,” Garrus corrected, laughing when Ash shot him a pointed look, “But that’s beside the point. I’m guessing Shepard never followed through with that order.”

“No, she told me, and I quote, ‘Nobody’s going to be kissing any turians on this mission, Ash,’” she said in her best Shepard impression, then muttered, “Fucking liar.”

“Well, to her credit, I don’t think she planned on me being so… irresistable.”

Ash snorted and rolled her eyes. “Okay, ladykiller .”

There was another pause in conversation, and her expression fell. She looked down to where her hand still lay on his. “Back then, I just assumed you’d jump ship as soon as things got rocky, as soon as we— as Shepard — really needed you, but…” She trailed off, grip tightening around his hand. “You never let her down, not once. Not even when I—”

“You didn’t let her down, Ash,” he argued, sensing where she was headed, “She never thought that.”

“Yeah, well I do,” she snapped, words clipped, “I should have seen the signs that Cerberus had her pinned down, but I let my ego get in the way. I’m surprised she wanted anything to do with me after that.”

“You’re not the only one who has ever screwed up trying to do the right thing,” he reassured her, “Shepard, of all people, understood that.”

“That’s… you’re probably right,” she nodded and looked up at him, “Thanks. And for whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Uh, sorry for what?”

“For ever believing you weren’t an important part of the crew,” she stated seriously, then smiled, “And for calling you birdbrain behind your back.”

Garrus’ mandibles flared in amusement, and he gave her hand a few friendly pats. “No harm done,” he said, then paused for a beat, “Besides, you didn’t hear what I said behind your back.”

One of her eyebrows shot up. “You talked shit about me?”

“So much.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” shouted a familiar voice from across the mess, causing them both to snap their heads toward the sound. “Somebody get this heartwarming moment on camera.”

Ash stiffened, retracting her hand quickly and stuffing it under the table. “Joker.”

“Hey, Joker.” Garrus waved. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he answered, words pointed. “You know, aside from the soul-crushing agony of my girlfriend dying. ”

Garrus had spent enough time around humans to know that the Flight Lieutenant looked rough, even for someone who’d never cared about keeping up appearances. His eyes were red, the skin underneath dark enough that even the shadow cast from his hat couldn’t disguise the lack of sleep. He made his way unsteadily to the table and sat down next to Williams.

Garrus opened his mouth, preparing to speak, to express sympathy, but Joker cut him off. “And before you start with any of that ‘I understand how you feel’ crap— no you don’t. Everyone knows you can’t say Shepard’s dead until we’ve ID’d the body. Maybe not even then. She just keeps living… like a cockroach. ”

“You know you could just say, ‘I’m not doing so hot,” right?” Ash scolded him, but there was still a softness to her voice. “You don’t have to be an ass about it.”

“Yeah, but see… being an ass is way more my style.”

The table went completely quiet as Joker crossed his arms over his chest and scowled, tension palpable enough it might as well have had mass. Not one for tolerating awkward silences, Garrus ventured a question. “What the hell is a cockroach?”

Ash smiled, clearly thankful for the change in subject, and began to explain. “They’re these—“

“ Beetles ,” Joker cut her off, “Big, disgusting ones that are supposed to be able to survive extreme conditions other organics can’t.”

“Sounds about right,” Garrus admitted with a shrug.

The pilot flinched and glared at him. “Wait. I called Shepard a disgusting beetle and you’re just okay with that?”

“Are you kidding? Why wouldn’t I be,” he asked sarcastically, “It actually explains why she kept molting. ”

“You’re having fun. Stop it,” Joker whined, scowl deepening, “Stop having fun!”

Garrus laughed and threw his hands up in surrender. “This isn’t exactly my idea of fun. My cockroach is missing.”

Joking though he was, his words were honest, something Joker must have detected. His expression softened even as he puffed his chest out. He deflated immediately as another familiar voice called out, likely interrupting whatever barrage of barbs he’d prepared to hurl at Garrus. This time, it was Vega who strutted over to the table carrying an entire fifth of some sort of human liquor. Cortez trailed solemnly behind him, examining the rectangular objects in his hands.

“Yo, don’t tell me the party started without us,” shouted Vega, setting the alcohol down on the table with a loud clank , pointing a thumb back at Cortez, “Esteban here took forever polishing the name plaques.”

Garrus stiffened at the mention of the plaques, knowing full and well there had been one commissioned with Shepard’s name on it despite all his protests. Turned out, the Alliance brass didn’t give a damn about some loud mouth former C-Sec officer or his feelings after all. He just hoped none of the humans were able to read the pain in his expression— a hope that was in vain if the sympathetic glance Cortez gave him was any indication.

“What’s that for?” Ashley pointed to the bottle of amber liquid Vega sat on the table.

“What do you think,” Vega asked, as if his intentions should have been completely clear, “I’m going to pour one out for the commander.”

“All over the Normandy's floor?” She raised her brows at him.

“Nah.” He gave her a dismissive wave. “Just down the sink or somethin’.”

She picked the bottle up and examined the label more closely. “But…this is expensive stuff, James.”

“Don’t care,” came Vega’s indignant response, “It’s for Lola.”

Ashley gave him a solemn nod, seeming to understand whatever peculiar human tradition he was planning to perform. Satisfied, Vega turned his attention to Joker, snagging his cap, flipping it around, and placing it down on his head backwards. Joker cursed and grumbled, calling Vega a bully among other things, but Vega just smiled and walked over to Garrus, giving him a supportive clap on the shoulder.

Slowly, the rest of the crew began to filter in, each with their own expressions of concern. Traynor and Tali arrived together, deep in conversation if the emphatic hand gestures were any indication. They both quieted as they arrived at the table, Traynor frowning and bowing her head, whileTali approached and slid comfortably into the seat next to Garrus.

She looked down at the uneaten food and back up at him, giving him a nudge with her elbow and complaining. “You are wasting all of the good dextro rations.”

“Good? Oh, come on, we both know it’s garbage.”

“Well… yes, but it’s digestible garbage,” she said, holding a finger up to make her point. Her voice softened when she continued. “And you’ve hardly eaten anything the past few days.”

He sighed and looked down at the rations. “Yeah.”

Tali observed him for a second, eyes glowing behind her helmet. She then grabbed his plate and slid it toward him. “Eat up, Vakarian. Or else I will have to feed you myself… with a spoon I am pretending is the Normandy.”

Garrus let out a laugh despite himself. “I don’t think that’ll work, Tali.”

“You don’t know that. You haven’t heard my engine noises.” She laughed along with him for a few seconds, then grew quiet once again and gave him a gentle pat on the back. “The Alliance is going to feel very silly when Shepard gets back and they have to explain why they hung her name up on the wall and sold her hamster.”

“ If she makes it back this time.”

“She will,” Tali asserted, voice cracking, “She has to.”

It was Javik who entered next, voice booming in a debate with Liara, who had taken it upon herself to explain human customs for memorializing the dead. He shook his head and ignored her entirely, stating that if he wished for a history lesson, he would ask for one. He then snapped his many-eyed gaze to Garrus.

“You should not be saddened about Shepard’s fate, Garrus. She died with great honor.”

Liara let out an exasperated sigh, and sat down in one of the empty seats at the next table over, bringing her hand to her face.

“What is it, asari?” Javik snapped, “Honor in death is something turians hold in high regard, is it not? This should be a great comfort to him.”

“Perhaps with time,” Liara explained,”But right now it is… insensitive.”

“It’s nothing my dad hasn’t already told me a dozen times,” Garrus stated flatly, “I appreciate the sentiment.”

Weird that a fifty-thousand year-old Prothean reminded him of his dad. Then again, Castis Vakarian was as about as traditional as turians came, and they butted heads on almost every subject, including but not limited to: Garrus’ disregard for rules, his decision to leave C-Sec—twice, his “risk- and attention-seeking” behavior, and his “absurd infatuation with a human woman”. Their relationship had always been strained, to say the least. Still, he had always been there when Garrus needed him, and listened when it mattered. He was the first call Garrus made from the medbay after the Reapers were destroyed, when he realized Shepard might not be coming back.

He’d been sympathetic, but not even remotely comforting, not unlike Javik was at present. Garrus just didn’t have it in him to explain to either how little he cared about the honorable nature of her sacrifice, the high esteem the galaxy now held her in, or the way history would remember her. None of that mattered when she wasn’t at his side. How could he be proud, when all he felt was empty?

Once all parties arrived and settled in, the group spent time talking and sharing memories. The Alliance crew members all told stories about encounters with Admiral Anderson, how he more often felt like a parent than a commanding officer, and how his reputation was so much larger than his ego. Traynor did most of the talking about EDI, their friendship, and how seamlessly she’d fit into the crew, how easy it had been to forget she was an AI. Joker just pulled the bill of his cap down to cover his eyes. Then, the reminiscence moved to the commander.

Every single person present had a story about Shepard, about how she went above and beyond the call of duty to help them, and to make sure they were taken care of while aboard the Normandy. Shepard had always taken time to check in with the people who worked for her, even when the galaxy was falling apart and herself along with it. She was a good leader, arguably the best, and an even better friend. It was clear that everyone in the room admired her, and that she was missed.

Garrus knew he should say something, tell one of the many stories of the trouble he and Shepard had gotten into together. The others all watched him expectantly as he scrambled for words.

“I—“ he began, but was interrupted by the buzzing of his omni-tool, followed by several bright flashes of light. He cursed and pulled up the interface to silence the damn thing. An urgent message alert flashed on his screen, and he tapped the icon to open it.

From: Dr. Chloe Michel

Subject: Jane Doe

Dear Garrus,

I hope this email reaches you, and that you are still alive to read it. I am on the Citadel working with an emergency medical unit out of what is left of Huerta Memorial. The blast from the Crucible caused some severe structural damage near the epicenter, and we have been searching the area to find and identify survivors and remains.

There is a Jane Doe here, who I believe you might know. Please contact me on a private channel whenever you are able.

Take Care,

Chloe

His heart sank like lead into his gut as he read what could only be a request to come in and identify a corpse. The space around him was suddenly too full, too loud, and the curious eyes of his companions lingered on him for far longer than comfortable. He tapped the display on his omni-tool once again to close it, glancing around the room from one set of eyes to another.

“It’s nothing,” he lied. The truth would only cause unnecessary alarm he wasn’t equipped to handle at the moment. He stood abruptly, a jolt of pain coursing through his leg that was still recovering from a fracture, and excused himself. “Just need to make a quick call.”

“Now,” Liara asked, frowning, “But the memorial ceremony was just about to begin.”

“So start without me,” he snapped and made his way to the main battery. He’d apologize later, when his world wasn’t caving in.

The battery doors shut behind him with a familiar hiss and he sank down into his seat next to the workbench where his favorite rifle lay surrounded by tools and unused thermal clips. It had taken a beating in the battle on Earth, and Garrus had poured over repairing it in the days following its end. He hadn’t touched it since. There were no more enemies to fight, and the gun just reminded him of Shepard.

Bringing up his omni-tool once again, Garrus established a link using the information Michel provided him. He only waited a second or two before a voice on the other end picked up.

“Garrus,” exclaimed the woman, “I am so glad you received my message.”

“About that Jane Doe,” he began, cutting straight to the chase, “I— do you need me to identify the b— her ?”

“No… it is Commander Shepard,” she explained, “I am absolutely certain.”

“ Oh, ” Garrus said with the breath he’d been holding. He was glad he was already sitting down, as the last shreds of hope he’d been clinging to slipped from his grasp leaving him dizzy and sick. It was Shepard. She was dead. There was nothing to be done about it.

He took a minute to collect himself and his thoughts, cleared his throat and told the doctor, “I, uh…I’m not really sure how to— I mean, I guess I should make funeral arrangements. That’d be better than letting the Alliance—“

“Garrus,” Michel interjected firmly, “She’s alive.”

“ What,” he asked, more loudly than he’d intended. Hoping nobody had overheard outside, he lowered his voice and continued, “I mean, how is she? What’s her condition? Is she going to—”

“I won’t lie to you,” the doctor interrupted again, “Her injuries are serious, and she has been comatose since we found her. Still, her vitals are strong and stable at present. She is a fighter.”

“She is.”

The line was silent for a beat then Michel spoke up again. “I had a wonder… Shepard’s body has, ehm… extensive cybernetic modification. More extensive than I have seen. We are not certain how, or if it is even possible to repair all of the damage.”

One name came immediately to mind. “Miranda Lawson.”

“Pardon?”

“You need to contact Miranda Lawson,” Garrus clarified, “She is an ex-Cerberus operative, the scientist responsible for Shepard’s upgrades. And a friend. She will be able to help. I can send you her contact information.”

“Good, yes. I will contact her immediately,” Michel replied, relief noticeable in her voice. She then sighed and said, “I apologize for sending such a vague email. I am realizing now that it was likely… anxiety provoking. I simply did not wish for the wrong people to find out about Shepard’s survival.”

Garrus huffed, “Yeah, if the media caught wind of this, it’d be a circus.”

“That is what I feared,” she agreed with a sigh, “Besides, I thought you should be the first to see her. I know she is important to you.”

“Thank you, doc. For everything.”

“It is the very least I can do. I owe my life to the both of you. Twice over, now it would seem:”

“I’ll get to the Citadel as soon as I can.”

“Talk to you then.”

The call ended with a beep and Garrus shut off his omni-tool display, staring blankly at the wall on the opposite side of the room for several minutes, attempting to recover from the emotional whiplash the last half hour had given him. He took a deep breath, rose to his feet, and headed back out to the mess hall.

All eyes turned to him as he made his way toward the memorial wall just outside the elevator. EDI’s and Anderson’s names had already been placed, tears already shed. Now they looked to Garrus, Cortez approaching with the name plaque meant to commemorate Shepard’s death. He took the polished silver plate and examined it, light glinting off its corners as he stepped up to the wall. For a long moment he traced the letters of a name that had come to mean so much to him, to those crowded in the narrow hallway around him, to the hundreds of thousands who’d cheered from ships in the massive fleet she’d rallied and led to victory, and to the billions of lives she’d saved across the galaxy. Shepard deserved so much more than a name on a wall.

And now, just maybe, she could have it.

Garrus would have preferred to keep Shepard’s survival to himself, to snag her from the hospital and elope to some secluded tropical paradise where nobody could ask anything of either of them again, except “Would you like a refill on that incredibly alcoholic beverage?” But he knew he couldn’t do that. After all, he was not the only one who loved her.

Lowering the plaque, he turned to face the others, all of whom looked at him with a mix of confusion and concern. He glanced down at Shepard’s name again, mandibles flaring out reflexively as relief and excitement swelled in his chest.

“They found her. They found Shepard,” he told them, bringing his eyes to meet their gazes as he spoke. “She’s alive.”

#mass effect #mass effect legendary edition #garrus vakarian #shakarian #ashley williams #tali'zorah #fanfic #my writing

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dadsbongos · 4 years ago

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burn me to the ground

(1)gentle lover (2)burn me to the ground Movie/Game/Show: Thor: Ragnarok Dynamic: Loki Laufeyson/Reader Warnings: ragnarok spoilers?, passing description of you as toned/muscular cuz loki with gf who could crush him >>>, i give more time gap to thor's arrival cuz :), fem pronouns Summary: He’s never been one for such sentiment, maybe that’s why her influence is so terrifying to him. ~~~

“You wanted me to meet someone?”

“Right! Right, right, right,” the Grandmaster waves his hand in a gesture for Topaz to guide his chair through the room, “He was all mumble-y and murmur-ey and I heard your name, so I was thinking maybe you could tell me what this guy’s all about!”

Upon seeing the man in reference, your eyes widen and you nearly stumble back.

The man, however, immediately tilts his head and practically hisses out, “You.”

Well, no point in pretending to not know him now when he reacts like that. Sighing and tossing up your hands as if to show relief, you gush out an awfully whiny, “Aw, prince! Thank goodness you’re okay! I was so worried when we got separated!”

“So, how do you two know each other?” the Grandmaster’s smile is broad, if not slightly threatening, as he waggles a finger between the two people in front of him.

“I’m a sort of guard to your royal asshat.”

Loki doesn’t get the chance to speak up as the Grandmaster claps in response to you, “Well, I’m sure he’ll be happy to know your track record here doesn’t show any signs of slacking!”

“Certainly, yes,” Loki nods curtly, not pleased at the prospect of a Midgardian - this Midgardian - having to watch over him again, “Reassuring to have her here.”

“I would be, look at her- " reaching over, the Grandmaster squeezes at your bicep, “So strong, she’s a great contender!”

“Contender…?” Loki murmurs to the woman, a brow quirked.

Smacking the prince’s arm, you shake your head before turning back to the Grandmaster, “Loki wouldn’t be a very good contender, he’s pretty frail and weak. Lame, too.”

“Aw,” wagging a finger as one would to a pestering child, the Grandmaster’s broad grin falls into a tight-lipped smile before he speaks, “Loyal guard trying to protect her prince, how sweet.”

“What can I say?” Loki notices the way you seem more on edge now, breath shakier, but you manage to mask it as light laughter, “Duties never rest.”

Nodding, the elderly man turns to Topaz, whispering in her ear before dismissing you both back to your quarters.

It’s as the door to the room shuts that Loki is greeted with the first hint of aggression he’s ever seen from you - not even in his time on Earth had he seen malice slip from you like he does now. The door slams and you wring your hands in your hair, nearly shouting as you turn to the God,

“You moron, why’d you have to go and say that? As if you know me? You could’ve gotten us killed.”

“But I do know you,” Loki held his hands up, pausing your rampant pacing, “Was I not supposed to try and find solace in the fact that I was on a new, strange planet with the one person I recognize?”

“You’re such an ass,” it’s a deflated insult, sighed out while you stomp over to the one bed in the room and slump down on it, “Just hope that nutjob believed me about you being weak.”

“Which, I believe we should have a talk about, by the way,” Loki’s brows furrow, “Why do that? I don’t need any protection nor defense, especially by the likes of you.”

“Unless you want to go as a gladiator and potentially be ripped in half by people twice your size, I would just take the label of weakling socialite and run with it. Hope you get on the Grandmaster’s good side like I have and eventually he maybe stops looking at you like a starving man to steak.”

“Haven’t quite gotten to that last bit, I imagine.”

“No, unfortunately not. It’s a little terrifying.”

It’s quiet as you rub at your aching temples and think over the situation. Loki turns and begins assessing the room - a room he hopes to not be stuck in.

“Are we to share this?”

“Probably,” yet another exhausted sigh slips from your lips, “I wouldn’t bother bringing it up to the old man, you might get vaporized.”

There’s a beat of silence before Loki chuckles, it’s forced and tight.

“Oh,” nodding, you lean back until you’re fully reclined on the bed, “you think I’m joking.”

The God’s eyes widen at that, turning to face you in alarm, “Are you not?”

Suddenly sitting up to untie your boots, you mutter, “I’m trying a slow coup. I was gonna do it on my own, but now you’re here so that’s minorly reassuring.”

“Coup?”

“Accident comes to the Grandmaster, we move up. I say we, but if you try and overthrow me for the throne, I will have to duel you. Duel at best, but at worst…”

Another pregnant silence flows through the room, Loki tilting his head, “You do realize how alarming that is when you don’t finish that sentence, right?”

“Good.”

It was an unlucky arrangement. Trapped on a trash planet, literally, with a Midgardian worm - whom he either has to share a bed with or rest on a loveseat for the nights. None of which is even mentioning the Grandmaster.

The Grandmaster.

On the surface he’s light. Bubbly. Fun. And then someone drops a glass too close to his favorite new shoes and suddenly they’ve been pardoned from the land of the living and the stench of wretched toast permeates through the room.

It’s that memory that has Loki tuning out of the story of the man across from him. His hands fall to his thighs and begin rubbing away the sweat of nervousness that gathers there. The movements don’t go unseen, and the woman who assigned herself as his personal guard reaches down and takes his hand. Uncaring if the rest of the party sees as they cling to one another.

You aren’t Loki’s first choice of partnership but maybe that’s where he’d be wrong - because your grip is strong and it won’t let go unless it’s commanded. It’s comforting and reassuring and Loki can’t remember the last time someone held him like that as he breaks down. It isn’t just the hand holding at parties, it’s in the late nights when neither of you can sleep and your heads are too full of countless worries of each’s own home. It’s the way you hold him and don’t say a word of it the next day. Barely acknowledging it unless he brings it up first, not wanting to make him uncomfortable or pressured.

It’s kindness and genuinity and he thinks he wants to have you around all the time. After the Grandmaster. After Hela. Whenever and wherever that dust happens to settle, he knows he wants this comfort all the time.

Storytime comes around to Loki. His fingers curl tighter around your hand as he speaks, occasionally taking a break to sip at his neon drink when there’s a hearty whisper-shout of both your names,

“Over here!”

God of Thunder, you notice. Thor of Asgard. You two excuse yourselves from the couch of socialites to cross the room to Thor.

“Thor? You’re alive?” you begin, eyes wide.

“Of course, I’m alive, what’re you two doing? Why aren’t you stuck in a chair? Where’s your chairs?”

“We didn’t get one,” Loki shakes his head.

“Get me out,” Thor urges, still thoroughly confused over the presence of his brother and old friend.

“We can’t,” you whisper.

Nodding, Loki continues, “We’ve gotten in favor with the Grandmaster. In his higher courts.”

“Like friends but scary,” you pitch in, “We’ve been here a few weeks. Maybe a month.”

“A month?" Thor repeats in utter disbelief, "I just got here.”

“What’re you guys whispering about?” the Grandmaster himself juts into the conversation with a giggle, “Time works different around these parts. On any other world I’d be like millions of years old, but on Sakaar…” he stops and looks between the trio with a teasing grin before shaking his head, “In any case, you two know this… what’d you call yourself - Lord of Thunder…?”

“God of Thunder,” Thor corrects with a forced chuckle.

“I’ve never met this man in my life,” Loki immediately denies.

“He’s my brother.”

Rolling your eyes at the brothers, you’re quick to gesture to Loki, “Adopted.”

The Grandmaster nods, “He any kind of a fighter?”

“You take this thing out of my neck and I’ll show you.”

That’s how they find out that - at the very least, Thor’s alive. Not well, but certainly alive.

The night after that party is mostly quiet in the room. Presently, both people are getting ready for bed but inside their minds is such fueled turmoil that neither truly believes they’re getting rest that night. Upon finishing his state of dress, Loki makes his way out to the balcony.

Air on Sakaar isn’t particularly fresh or clean, nor are the stars incredibly visible with all the city lights, but it felt better out there than being trapped in a room. He’s soon joined by another body at the railing, hands barely brushing together on the roughened metal.

It’s Loki that makes the first move, slowly sliding his hand across the rail until his entwined with yours. Your fingers weave together and Loki can’t help but balance his gaze between your conjoined hands and your eyes. He remembers a time where he used to look into those eyes and see an enemy - now, he can’t imagine a time where he would’ve ever wanted to hurt someone such as you. Can't believe there was a time where he wanted to hurt you. Your care is expressed in tender touches and loyalty. In quiet moments of trust and earnest adoration. In honesty. It's that silent care that speaks the loudest.

It’s your voice that breaks him from his own thoughts, “When this whole thing is over and Sakaar is ruined and Thor will have the throne, where will you go?”

Loki falls silent at that question, he brushes a thumb over your knuckles, pursing his lips and tilting his head as he thinks over what response would fit best. Then he comes to the realization that it wouldn’t matter where he lies as long as he has comfort that lies with him. Comfort that sleeps inside the woman beside him is what he wants.

And so, he mumbles out, “Where will you want me?”

There’s a laugh pulled from you as your head shakes, “You wouldn’t want to go to Earth. Unless you’d like the Avengers up your ass.”

There’s a shared laugh as Loki relents, speaking before laying a kiss to your knuckles, “I wouldn’t be fond of that… but for you, my dear, I’d tear the universe apart.”

“That sounds like exactly why they wouldn’t want you. Sorry to say they’re not fond of universe-tearing.”

A sarcastic huff falls from the prince, “I’m charming and romantic and this is how I’m repaid?”

“However, I can’t say that’s not excellent bargaining to keep you on a leash,” you grin.

“Like a dog?”

“Well, now,” looking away, your lip is tucked between your teeth to muffle possible laughter.

Loki doesn’t follow your example, instead he studies the planes of your face. The curve of your cheek and the way your eyes are lit up by the stars and lights that flow in this city. You’re beautiful. That, he knows. And despite being trapped on Sakaar, he also knows he’s grateful to have someone like you. To have you.

Strong, both in emotional resolve and psychical capability. It’s nice to have someone who can stay level-header and offer support. It makes him want to care and provide for you as well, and that’s what scares him.

You make him want to return sentiment when all he’s cared for before was letting things burn.

#loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki fanfic

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jadegrey711 · 5 years ago

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It’s your Voodoo Working

Caliban x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hello my loves. I’m slowly getting through my requests and one of them requested I do another Caliban oneshot. Which i was more than happy to do since there is so little of him. I tried making it passionate but then a song gave me this other idea for him and i just love writing him as a mischievous little shit.

Also apparently making something passionate means long as fuck. Also by the end of this I just wasn’t feeling the smut so i kind of cut it out. I’m not really feeling my writing very much these days but I hope you guys still enjoy this.

Word Count: 2787

*NOT MY GIF*

Anon: Can you pls do another Caliban smut but maybe this time it’s like passionate as shit? Thank you, love your writing!!

Song Inspiration:

It’s your voodoo working - Charles Sheffield

Feel Me - Mecca Kalani

If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.

I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711)

This story is for 18+ ONLY. It contains sexual themes that are not suited for younger audiences so if you’re under 18 my blog and this story is not for you. Please make sure to read at your own discretion and remember that you are solely responsible for your content intake.

The very first time you laid your eyes on him, you had to admit he was breathtaking. You stood there in awe as he appeared before you and the rest of the Fright Club in a ball of whirling fire. Once he fully materialized in front of all of you, he immediately turned to Sabrina.

“Sabrina.” He regarded her with an easy smile.

“Caliban.” She regarded him in turn, her voice laced with ice. But his smile never wavered.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of you summoning me here, Sabrina?”

“My friends and I need your help, Caliban; in defeating a most foul eldritch beast.” Sabrina said, before she gestured towards us and you watched as Caliban regarded each of you. Starting with Roz, Harvey, Theo and then he turned his attention towards you; his mossy green eyes met yours and that lazy smile returned to his handsome face.

“Enchanted.” He purred as he drank you in and let the room sit in silence for a beat before he continued, looking away from you and back to Sabrina.

“You know my help doesn’t come free Sabrina.”

Sabrina outwardly groaned. “Name your price.” She said with a wave of her hand as if that’ll make him spit out his demands faster so she can move on with her life.

“I don’t require much. All I require is your name, fair maiden.” He purred, taking your hand in his before he placed a kiss upon your knuckles.

“Oh damn.” You heard Roz whisper beside you.

Sabrina however, looked extremely irritated. “Come on Caliban you expect me to believe that all you want in exchange for your help is my friend’s name? You must want something else. You can’t have Y/-” Just as Sabrina was about to say your name Caliban cut her off.

“I want her name and I want it from her own lips.” he said an edge of danger in his voice, before he looked back to you, his hand still holding yours in his grasp.

You felt your heart flutter in your chest like a bird in a cage and wet your lips with your tongue before you spoke. “Y/N. My name is Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He whispered your name almost reverently, letting your name roll across his tongue. “It suits you.” He smiled, and that smile made you feel like you had just made the biggest mistake telling him your name.

That first encounter was over a month ago and in that time Caliban was true to his word to his word. He had helped in any capacity he could to aid you in defeating this horror you all were facing. However, in that same amount of time Sabrina had figured out his true intentions for being so helpful. Word on the hellish grapevine was that hell had been lonely for the new king, since he and Sabrina had locked up dear old dad and he wanted a queen for himself, and was setting his eyes upon you.

Sabrina warned you, to stay away that he was the definition of a bastard and to not put it past him that he would not simply take his mortal bride like Hades did to Persephone. You tried to shake off the chill as you imagined Caliban rising from the cracked earth, his strong hands gripping you closely to his body as he dragged you to his kingdom of nightmares.

Also within that month you tried avoiding him like the plague, but it seemed no use; Caliban was everywhere you turned, like gum stuck on your shoe. He would meet you outside of your lecture halls, stay close to you at the academy’s library brushing his hands against yours, sometimes leaning in to whisper something close to your ear.

It was starting to become so difficult to keep your blood from not warming at the smallest of his touches, or even just the feeling of his presence as he walked into a room. You felt yourself going mad at each of those little touches and how when he would walk up behind you, leaning over your shoulder to see what your were doing; you found the temptation to just push your body back into his achingly warm one harder to resist. It was like he was working some kind of voodoo on your body, making it so you craved him, wanted him with every fiber of your being; until he didn’t need to wrap his arms around you and steal you away to his kingdom. No. You were going to throw yourself into his arms at the very mention of taking you away.

*****

Today he was working his voodoo again, he came up behind you and placed his hands on your hips. You tried not to moan out right at the feeling of his large warm hands on your waist, making you immediately conjure up images of what he could do with those hands.

“How are you today, lovely Y/N?” He whispered in your ear.

You steeled yourself before your answered him. “I’ll be better when you get your hands off of me.” you tried to say it with menace but there was no bite in your voice.

“Why would I want to do that?” he nuzzled his nose in your hair just behind your ear before he whispered. “I think my hands belong here and I think your hands belong on me. Don’t you agree?”

“No.” you said shakily. You looked around the academy’s library but no one was here, not even Sabrina. No one was here to save you from the eclipsing fog filling your head that was Caliban.

“Come on Y/N.” he said nuzzling your hair again, making goosebumps run down your arms and your back erupt with a spine tingling shiver. “Why do you keep denying what we have here? I’ve seen the carnal lust in your eyes from the very moment that we met, just as you’ve seen it in mine. So, why fight it?”

You steeled yourself as your turned in Caliban’s arms, facing him now; those moss green eyes focused acutely on your body. Taking in the way your chest heaved up and down with each deep steadying breath you took, your breasts barely brushing against his chest with every breath. He took in the sound of your heartbeat rapidly increasing as he kept staring at you, observing you, devouring the image of you.

“I know what you want from me. And it’s not just carnal, as you love to say.” You said, trying not to notice the heat radiating from his body, or the way your nipples were aching peaks as you gazed back into those jade eyes.

Caliban licked his lips, stepping just a hair closer to you and closing the small space between your bodies. “And what is it that I truly want from you Y/N?” he asked as he reached up and tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“Sabrina told me about you and your desire for some meek mortal bride. Someone to use and frighten for eons.” You said, trying to calm your increasing heartbeat.

“Do I frighten you Y/N?” he asked, his eyebrow quirked up in question.

“No.” You said, feeling the truth of it ring out in your voice.

“I’m glad to hear that.” He said before pausing for a breath, leaning down to place a small kiss against your cheek, and felt that small kiss shoot through your entire body like a lightning strike. “Sabrina has heard right, I am looking for a queen. But, you’re wrong about wanting a meek woman by my side, someone like that wouldn’t last five seconds. No.” he said as he placed another kiss but this time on the other cheek.

You should push him away from you, wipe his gentle kisses off with disgust but you couldn’t fight the increasing warmth that seemed to radiate deeper into your bones and soul with each small kiss he gave you.

“I wanted someone strong and fiery. Someone who would defy me at every turn.” He placed a kiss against your neck on your rapid pulse, making you gasp. “This makes me a bit of a masochist I know this. But, I wanted a woman, not a girl and when I first saw you Y/N, I knew instantly that you were that woman and from that moment on I’ve desperately wanted to see a crown placed on your head.” He finished, placing a kiss on the other side of your neck.

“Caliban.” You whispered, biting your bottom lip hard.

“You don’t have to love me Y/N, not now that’ll come in time” Caliban said breathily as his soft kisses on your neck became more desperate, and started to feel your resolve weaken as Caliban’s spell on your was finally working it’s magic on you. “Just let me love you right now.” Caliban said his voice husky. “Please Y/N.” That’s when you realized he was asking your permission. His hands were starting to roam over your body, igniting your even hotter as they lifted up your shirt slightly in their exploration, and skin touched skin.

But with one word from you, he’d stop; you knew that. But did you actually want him to stop? His large hands grabbed your ass by the handfuls and you knew that was most definitely not the case.

You reached up with trembling hands and dug your fingers into those luscious blonde locks, hearing Caliban moan as you gently pulled on them. His eyes never left yours as you nodded slowly to him, telling him exactly what you wanted; that you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

Caliban’s lips crashed against yours, and you felt his heat fully envelope you as you opened your mouth to his invading tongue, letting yours meet his in a dance of dominance. With your hands still deep in his blonde locks, you pulled him closer to you, wanting to feel every part of his body against yours.

Caliban’s hands roamed back down your back and ass until they reached the back of your thighs and you took that as a signal to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. He smiled against your lips and starting walking away from the table you were originally by and closer towards the massive fireplace in the library. Without breaking the kiss Caliban brought the both of you in front of the fireplace and sat down on the rug in front of it, having you straddle his lap.

Caliban’s lips pulled away from yours only so they could attach themselves to your neck, placing soft kisses there before those soft kisses turned to harsh sucks. You craned your neck to the side to give him more access as you delved your fingers into his luscious locks. You felt Caliban’s hands roam down your back and gently squeezed your ass, making you smile before you felt his fingers grab the edges of your shirt and as they roamed back up your back he was bringing up your shirt. You helped him out by bringing up your arms and then your shirt was on the floor next to you.

You watched as Caliban took in the sight of your exposed body with such an intensity in his eyes that it made you blush all over. You watched with equal intensity as Caliban lowered his head to your breasts and kissed the tops of them, his hands reaching behind you once again to undo the clasp of your bra with ease. He looked mesmerizing as he watched it slip from your shoulders and you placed it with your shirt.

Caliban started to lower his head again but you stopped him. “Wait.” You said biting your lip. “I want to see you.” You said as you grabbed the edge of his shirt and lifted it off of him and watched as his shirt joined yours in the ever growing pile of clothes next to you.

You reach your hands out hesitantly to touch him, and heard a low groan come from between his plush lips as your hands rested at the top of his chest. You ran your hands down him feeling every muscle tighten as you explored his grooves and scars.

“You’re beautiful.” You whispered. “If you truly were made from clay as Sabrina says, I think you were perfectly sculpted.”

“Oh, Y/N. I think you’ll be the death of me.” he groaned and suddenly you felt the sensation of falling and your head met with the soft rug underneath you. You watched as Caliban hovered over you, situating himself between your legs and drinking you in.

Caliban let out a small sigh. “I may be beautiful yes this is true.” He said, a small smirk growing on his face and you smiled at his arrogance, fighting the urge to give his arm a smack. “But my beauty is nothing compared to you and especially to you in this moment laid out before me like a goddess. I pale in comparison.” He said and lowered his head back to you neck and you instinctively moved it to the side to giving him more access to you. You watched in wonder as Caliban’s kisses started moving lower, kissing the tops of your collarbones, his tongue tracing down your sternum and to the valley of your breasts, his hair all the while tickling you as he moved lower.

You let out a gasp as you felt Caliban’s tongue trace circles around your harden nipple before bringing it into his mouth and sucking. The sensation of his mouth around you and his tongue flicking at your nipple made your back arch into his mouth, desperately wanting more.

Suddenly, you felt Caliban’s hands on the tops of your jeans and began unbuttoning them as he began lavishing your other breast with the same devotion.

His hands were agile and he finished undoing the buttons of your jeans and began pulling them down; at the same time his lips were beginning to move further down your body.

You felt the heat in your body spike as you realized what Caliban was planning to do to you next. “Caliban.” You sounded breathy, as his name came out almost as a plea. You wanted him to end his slow methodical torture and just wanted to take you, make you his. But as Caliban pulled away from you and brought your legs up to start pulling off your jeans, you realized he had other plans for you.

He gently pulled away your jeans and panties all at once, being so gentle as he took your feet out of each one of the pant legs, before tossing your panties and jeans both to the side; leaving you completely bare under him. He kept your legs up and by his face and never broke eye contact with you as he took one leg and began kissing you, starting from your ankle and working down till he got to your inner thigh.

“Caliban, please.” You heard yourself beg. But beg for what? Him to stop or for him to never stop?

“What do you want princess?” he asked his voice a low growl, as he started kissing your other leg, working down it slowly placing kisses on your ankles, behind your knees, working to your inner thighs again.

“I feel like you’re torturing me. You’ve been torturing me this whole month and now now you’re killing me.”

You watched as he lowered himself to settle in between your thighs, feeling breathless and needy.

He smiled at you his eyes locking onto yours as you felt those soft lips kiss you intimately. “There’ll be no more torture Y/N. Once you’ve given yourself fully over to me you will only know bliss.” He murmured against your inner thighs, kissing down both of them before he continued licking at you; his tongue flicked your clit and you felt your back lift from the ground.

“Caliban.” You pleaded, digging your fingers in his hair, almost as if you wanted to pull him away or push him closer to you. “Caliban, I need you, I want you, I want to give in to you.”

With that Caliban stopped and pulled away from your quaking center, making you whimper from the loss of contact. His eyes seemed to glow with the intensity they held in them. “Do you mean it? Because if you do, there’s no going back. You’re mine and I am yours.”

“I mean it.” You say with a sincerity that surprised you and felt a smile bloom across your face as Caliban wrapped you up in him and sealed your fate.

#Caliban #caliban x reader #jade tries writing #caliban imagines #caliban chilling adventures of sabrina #caos caliban #caliban caos #caliban x you #caliban insert #the chilling adventures of Sabrina #chilling adventures of sabrina imagines #chilling adventures of sabrina netflix #chilling adventures of sabrina oneshots #caos #netflix the chilling adventures of sabrina #caos imagines #caos oneshots #not so smutty smut

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

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Stark Spangled Banner

Ch55: The Fallen Warrior

Intro: The Avengers mourn the loss of one of their own.

Warnings: “Language!” Smut (NSFW, 18+) Character death, angst.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 56

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Katie felt numb. Wordlessly, Steve guided her back to their quarters where she trudged through the living room and into the bedroom, every so often raising her hand to wipe away her tears. She sat on the edge of the bed, kicking off the court shoes she had stolen from the base before her hands flattened against the mattress as her head dropped slightly, and she began to cry.

Steve sat next to her and she turned into him, pressing her face into his chest. His arms encircled her, as he lay his cheek against the top of her head, gently rubbing her back.

“She’s gone.” Katie whispered softly “I…I can’t…” “I know.” Steve replied gently, sniffing as his own tears fell.

“How are we gonna tell the kids?”

“Together. We’ll figure it out.” “Like we always do huh?” Katie muttered as she pulled away from him, a hint of what sounded like sarcasm in her voice. Steve frowned.

“Honey?”

“I need a shower.” Her tone was monotonous as she stood up and made her wait into the en-suite.

Steve sighed and ran his hand over his face before he untied the combat boots he’d ‘borrowed’ and shucked them off. They had all the stones, they should be elated. Instead they were grieving, subdued, because Natasha hadn’t made it home and it cut Steve, like a knife in the gut. Other than Katie, she’d been the one person at SHIELD who had been ever present in his life post coming out of the ice. His partner in STRIKE, one of his best friends, a member of his fucking family.

And now she was gone.

He was trying to stay strong, trying to be the leader the group needed, but he was fucking upset and tired. His body ached all over from his tangle with his 2012 self, and if he was honest all he wanted to do was sleep for a week.

His sharp ears picked up Katie’s quiet sobs in the bathroom. Just like that day when they came back from Wakanda over five years ago, he peeled off his outer clothing and gently pushed the door to the bathroom open and what he saw broke his heart. Katie was sat in the shower cubicle, hugging her knees as the water cascaded down on her. Without a word he opened the glass door, still in his boxers and with a silent groan he sat next to her, and wrapped his arm round her, his large hand on the side of her head as she turned into the contact and lay her cheek against his shoulder.

As with all missions, there was a routine that followed and this one was no exception. If anything, the routine made Katie feel better, gave her something to focus on rather than the mission itself. Her head was still reeling from watching Steve’s reaction to Peggy, seeing her dad again after almost thirty-two years and the fact that Nat wasn’t coming home. Steve managed to coax her to her feet, leaving her to shower, but she didn’t really speak as she dressed, instead retreating to dig out the arnica gel as Steve’s torso and back really had taken a beating. She could tell he was in quite a bit of discomfort, and she didn’t like seeing that regardless of how angry she was feeling towards him.

An anger she knew deep down was completely irrational, but she couldn’t help feeling it nonetheless.

“Thanks.” Steve smiled softly as her gentle fingers finished their dance across his shoulders. He rolled his head back, expecting her to be there but she’d already moved to wash her hands. He sighed and then stood up from the bed, grabbing a top out of the case they still hadn’t unpacked. He pulled it on with a grimace and then there was a knock at the main door before they heard Tony’s voice as he walked into their apartment.

“You guys decent?”

“Yeah.” Katie called back, shrugging on a purple vest top, before grabbing a white hooded cardigan.

Tony gently popped his head round the door to their bedroom, his eyes red from his own tears. He took one look at his sister before he sighed and strode towards her, Steve watching as Katie melted into her brother’s arms.

“I thought that all of us, well the original Avengers that is could meet down by the river on the jetty.” Tony cleared his throat, looking at Steve over Katie’s shoulder. “Maybe talk about what happened.” “She died.” Katie pulled away. “That’s what happened.” “Kiddo,” Tony began and Steve simply looked at him and shook his head slightly from side to side. Tony took a deep breath and watched as Katie walked over to the windows and looked out.

“Going over what happened won’t bring her back.” She shook her head.

“No but it might help.” Steve said.

“Help how?” She turned to face him, her eyes blazing “When has going over what’s already happened, what’s in the past, ever helped?”

Okay, so Steve knew that little dig wasn’t merely about Natasha. He took a deep breath, rationalising in his brain that she was merely angry and taking it out on him. And Steve understood he had to be the metaphorical punch bag.

“Clint.” Tony spoke quickly, sensing something wasn’t quite right between the two of them. He knew the look on his sister’s face well enough to know she was going to blow if he didn’t diffuse the situation, and right now Steve looked broken. This was the last thing the group needed. “It might help Clint to tell someone what happened.”

Katie cocked her head to one side as she looked at Tony before she shrugged and walked passed the two men to grab a hair tie from the dresser. Quickly pulling her damp hair into a braid she looked over her shoulder at the pair of them and nodded. “See you out there.” “What’s going on?” Tony asked as soon as she was out of ear shot.

“To be honest Tony, I’m not one hundred percent sure.” Steve sighed, heading out towards the living area, Tony following. “We saw Peggy at the base, then your dad. I think it was a little overwhelming maybe and now Nat.”

“You saw Peggy?” Tony frowned

“Yeah we had to duck into her office after that woman from the elevator was looking for us with security.”

“So you hid in her office?” Tony arched an eyebrow.

“I know what you’re thinking but I didn’t do it on purpose.” Steve shook his head as he sat on the sofa, reaching for his leather boots which he had kicked off the day before. “It was just the closest room and…”

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world.” Tony looked at Steve as he tied the laces of his right shoe.

“Did you seriously just quote ‘Casablanca’ at me?” Steve paused and looked up at his brother in law who shrugged. Steve shook his head, a small chuckle escaping his chest as he resumed the task of tying his laces. He exhaled loudly again and rest his hands on his knees. “I wish I understood what she was pissed at…I mean, yeah we saw Peggy but we didn’t speak to her.” “Did you do anything, or say anything?” Tony asked.

“Nothing, only that she looked good, you know, that it was nice to see her not ill.” Steve pondered “The stupid thing is Tony, there was nothing there when I looked at Peggy, nothing at all other than this overwhelming sense of serenity that she looked so, well, normal and how I remembered her, not some frail old lady in a bed.”

Tony looked at Steve for a moment before he shrugged. “Katie’s grieving, we all are. She’ll come round. Just don’t take anything she says to heart.”

“Easier said than done.” Steve mumbled as he stood up. With a deep breath he grabbed his jacket and made for the door, Tony clapping him between the shoulder blades as they walked.

******

“Then I guess we both know who it’s gotta be.” Clint swallowed, taking a deep breath. He was ready to do this, ready to sacrifice his life for the stone in line with what the keeper had said, a way to make up for what he had done over the past five years.

“I guess we do.” Natasha looked at him, smiling and Clint took a deep breath as he reached out to take her hand.

“I’m starting to think– we mean different people here, Natasha”

“For the last five years I’ve been trying to do one thing: Get to right here.” her voice dropped slightly as the tears shone in her eyes “That’s all it’s been about. Bringing everybody back”

“Oh, don’t you get all decent on me now.” He said, his own tears springing forth.

“What, you think I wanna do it?” She looked at him, “I’m trying to save your life, you idiot.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want you to, because I– Natasha, you know what I’ve done.” he pleaded with her, how could he look his wife and kids in the face after the atrocities he had committed? “You know what I’ve become”

“I don’t judge people on their worst mistakes.”

“Maybe you should.”

“You didn’t.”

Clint let out a smile, his tears now falling softly “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

He leant down slightly, pressing his forehead against hers and he took a deep breath.

“Okay. You win” he gave a sad smile, stepping back. And when he knew she’d taken her eye off the ball, truly believing he was letting her do this, with a quick swipe of the legs he knocked her over.

“Tell my family I love them.” He turned to go but she grabbed his arm, tackling him to the ground.

“You tell them yourself.” She smirked, shooting one of her stingers at him, leaving him writhing on the floor. He managed to shrug it off and grabbed his bow and arrow, shooting an explosive dart at her which knocked her to the side. He began to sprint, casting her a look and a smile as he jumped…

He was falling, and he closed his eyes. This was it.

Except it wasn’t. A pair of arms hooked round his waist and then his fall was stopped as Natasha’s line attached to him with a grappling hook, leaving him clutching her arm.

“Damn you!” Frustration laced Clint’s tone. He tried to reach Nat with his other hand, but the line started to give. And if both of them fell, then neither took the stone home.

“Let me go.” Natasha pleaded with him, her eyes soft. “It’s okay.” She assured him with a smile as be began to protest. There wasn’t an inch of fear on her face. In fact, quite the opposite, it was like she was wanting to do this.

“Please– no!” Clint tried again, but as he spoke Natasha kicked the wall and wrenched her arm out of his grip. Clint screamed after her, turning his head away unable to watch as she fell to her death. When he eventually did look back he saw her sprawled at the bottom, legs and arms bent in an unnatural way, crimson blood framing her head like a macabre halo…

Clint trailed off recalling what had happened as his voice cracked and he looked out over the river, falling silent, arms crossed. Katie sniffed from where she was sat beside Steve on one of the benches, his hand gently resting on her knee.

“Do we know if she had family?” Tony asked, looking around.

“Yeah.” Steve said fiercely as he looked up through his tears. “Us.”

“What?” Thor demanded, walking over to Tony.

“I just asked him a question–“ “Yeah, you’re acting like she’s dead.” Thor snapped “Why are we acting like she’s dead? We have the stones, right? As long as we have the stones, Cap, we can bring her back, isn’t that right?” Steve looked down at his feet and Thor growled slightly. “So stop this shit. We’re the Avengers, get it together.”

“We can’t get her back.” Clint shook his head, his voice quiet as Thor looked at him. “It can’t be undone. It can’t.”

Thor gave a dry laugh causing Katie to look up for the first time since she had sat down

“I’m sorry. No offense, but you’re a very earthly being, Okay?” Thor looked at Clint “We’re talking about space magic. And “can’t” seems very definitive don’t you think?”

“Yeah, look, I know that I’m way outside my paygrade here. But she still isn’t here, is she?”

“No, that’s my point-“ “It can't be undone. Or that’s at least what the red floating guy had to say.” Clint’s voice gathered pace and volume until he was shouting. “Maybe you wanna go talk to him, okay? Go grab your hammer, and you go fly and you talk to him!”

At that point Katie stood up and made her way to the archer as his head bowed in grief. She gently rubbed his arm as he turned to face her, tears trickling down his face.

“It was supposed to be me!” He looked at Katie, then to Steve and Tony. “She sacrificed her life for that goddamn stone. She bet her life on it.” At that point, in a burst of anger, Bruce ripped a bench from the edge of the jetty and hurled it straight across the water before he turned back to the group, his anger spent and a resigned look on his face.

“She’s not coming back. We have to make it worth it. We have to.”

Steve stood up, Bruce was right. They had to make her sacrifice count. “We will.”

Bruce sniffed and then looked at Tony. “I’m gonna go back to the lab, take another look at the gauntlet.” “I’ll come with you.” Thor nodded and the two men wandered off up the walkway. Katie watched them for a moment before she turned back to look at Clint.

“I think I’ll stay here for a bit.” He sniffed. She nodded and gave his shoulder a squeeze as Tony and Steve both walked towards him.

“You gonna be okay?” Steve asked, and he nodded.

“I just wanna be on my own for a bit, Cap.”

He patted the man on the back before the three of them headed up the walkway to the lawn area at the back of the building. Katie stopped and looked at Steve.

“I’m wanna take a drive up to the house, see the kids.”

“Yeah, me too.” He gave her a small smile as Tony looked at them both, nodding.

“We’ll all go.” ***** They told Emmy and Pepper first, hidden on the porch outside, away from the younger kids. Pepper had instantly welled up, gently wiping away her tears whereas Emmy’s face had crumpled and she’d turned to her father, as she sat on the seat next to him, pressing her face into his top as she sobbed. Steve felt utterly helpless, unable to do anything but comfort her. Eventually, she pulled away and accepted the tissue Tony offered her.

“It was her choice Emmy.” Katie’s voice was broken. “I know that doesn’t make it any easier to take or understand, Sweetheart.” “She,” Emmy took a deep breath, “she was a hero until the end, huh?” “She was.” Steve agreed, smoothing back her hair.

“I err,” Emmy stood up. “I think I’ll take Lucky for a walk round the lake.” “Good Idea.” Tony agreed “How about me, you, Pep and Morgan head down to feed Gerald. Leave your mom and Sad to speak to Jamie.” Emmy nodded. Tony walked round the little porch and opened the door, calling the younger kids out to them. Jamie frowned when he realised he wasn’t going on the walk, and positively scowled when his parents told him it was because they needed to speak to him.

“But I don’t wanna.” He protested as they took him back inside.

“Please, sweetie, it’s important.” Katie sighed. He looked at her with piercing blue eyes so like his fathers and gave a huff, sitting down beside her, folding his arms.

“Am I in trouble?” He asked, looking up. “I didn’t do it.”

“No, pal, you’re not in trouble.” Steve assured him, sitting at the other side of him. “We just have some news to tell you.” He glanced at Katie and she gave him a helpless look. How do you make a three year old understand this? Understand any of it? Jamie sat patiently waiting whilst Steve took a breath and turned to face his son in his seat, his knee pulling up onto the cushion slightly as he did so.

“You know how me and your mom have been working on a big job with your Uncle Nee and Auntie Nat-Nat?”

Jamie nodded.

“Well, there was an accident.” Steve paused, trying to compose himself as best he could. “And Auntie Nat-Nat…well she, she’s gone to heaven buddy.” “Heaven?” Jamie frowned “Like, in the sky? With the angels? And my nannies and grandpas?” Katie nodded. “Yeah, baby.” “So I can’t see her again?” His little voice was quiet as his face fell, and Katie felt a lump in her throat as she struggled to speak.

“I’m sorry, buddy.” Steve gently, reached out to stroke his son’s face. “I know you can’t see her but you’ll always have her in your memories when you think about all the fun things you did.” Jamie nodded. And looked around. “Okay.” He whispered as he took the information in. Steve and Katie looked at one another, they’d tried to be honest, explain as best they could with the simple facts but in a way he would understand the harsh reality that his Auntie was gone, and not coming back.

“You alright?” Steve asked as the boy stood up.

“I’m sad that I won’t see her again.” Jamie shrugged, looking down before he stood up and looked his father straight in the eyes “But Emmy says her first mommy and daddy are both in heaven and the sun shines there so Auntie Nat-Nat will be okay. And I will see her when I go.” He nodded firmly. “But that won’t be for a very long time.” “No.” Steve reached out to pull his son into a hug. “No, it won’t.” Jamie wrapped his arms around his dad’s neck as he gave him a hug back, before he turned to his mom and did the same. Katie pulled him close to her, dropping a kiss to his head as her tears once more began to fall.

And they were falling again when they headed back to the compound later that afternoon. Katie didn’t want to leave the kids behind, but there was work to do, and she knew they couldn’t be there when the stones were. It wasn’t safe. She remained silent for the drive home, both Tony and Steve glancing back at her on occasion, the men sharing significant looks as Steve drove the car back to the compound. He hadn’t even pulled to a stop when she was climbing out and striding towards the doors.

“Good luck.” Tony nodded towards her retreating back.

“Thanks.” Steve mumbled. He paused for a second, taking a deep breath of air before he headed after her. She wasn’t in their quarters, so a quick question to FRIDAY later he headed to the communal lounge, where she was stood behind the wet bar, pouring herself a large vodka.

“Want one?” She asked and he shook his head. “No? There’s some of that Asgardian shit here somewhere.” “Katie, I don’t want a drink. “Well I do so,” she knocked the vodka back and hissed slightly, “shit she’s right, that stuff is like paint stripper.”

She poured another one and Steve watched her knock it back before he walked round the back of the bar and gently took the bottle from her.

“Sweetheart, this isn’t going to help.” “Why are you getting off on telling me what to do all of a sudden?” she looked at him, snatching the bottle back. “You did it before at the base too!” “That’s not what I was doing.” Steve calmly shook his head. “I was trying to stop you being seen.” “Didn’t care about that when you dragged us into Peggy’s office.” Steve took a deep breath, sensing the impending argument, desperately seeking for the words to cut it off before it could start. “I dragged us in there to stop security finding us. And I didn’t know it was her office until you did.” “Course you didn’t.”

“I didn’t.” He sighed, his tone flat. He was completely and utterly worn out. And he didn’t have the energy to argue. He was done. So, instead, he turned to leave.

“Sure you were horrified when you got to see her.” Katie shot at his back and Steve took a deep breath.

He knew she was poking for an argument now and he wasn’t going to give her one. He turned to face her, shaking his head and shrugging a little. “I was glad when I saw her. Glad I got to see her looking so healthy instead of some frail old woman dying in a bed. And I make no apologies for being happy about that fact.”

Katie snorted and poured another drink into her glass.

“But if you’re asking me if I suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to run to her and declare my undying love then the answer is no.” Steve held her gaze. “I love you.”

Katie rolled her eyes as she shot her third vodka straight down, grimacing again as it burnt its way down her throat. It wasn’t having any effect on her yet, but she still had a dangerous desire to jab at her husband’s wound again. For no reason other than she was angry.

Angry at everything and everyone…

But Steve wasn’t rising to the bait. He was angry too, angry at her for behaving the way she was, angry that Natasha was gone, angry at this whole fucking situation, but he wasn’t giving her what she wanted. Not this time. He would deal with his anger alone later, in the way he always did

“We have kids, a home, we’ve built a whole goddamned life together over the past ten years, and I don’t want or need anything or anyone else, no matter what you choose to believe.” “Well if you change your mind, I snagged some extra particles from Pym. You could always go back, check out what you missed.” She shrugged, her eyes flashing as she watched his reaction. Steve grit his teeth together, the nerve in his jaw twitching but still when he spoke, his voice was level.

“I know you’re upset. You’re grieving. We all are.” Steve threw his arms out to his sides. “And if you wanna take it out on me then fine, but I’m not gonna stand here and start screaming and shouting at you.” His hands dropped back to his sides, slapping against his denim clad thighs. “I don’t have the energy. I’m hurting too. So is Clint, Bruce, Tony, Thor, you’re not the only one who loved Nat.”

Katie looked down at the empty glass, before she turned for the bottle of vodka and refilled it.

“I love you, I love our life, I love our kids.” Steve continued, his eyes locking onto hers when she finally looked back at him. “I don’t know what else I can do or say to prove that to you.” He took a deep breath. “If you still don’t believe me after I’ve spent ten years telling you that there’s never been anyone I’ve loved as much in my life, that you don’t trust me enough to believe me when I say that Peggy doesn’t even come close to you, what hope do we have?”

His last sentence hit her like a tonne of bricks and she swallowed as she looked at him, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Tell FRIDAY when you need me to carry you back to the apartment.” He nodded to the bottle in her hand, and with that he turned and left the room. Katie stood still, her tears began to fall and with an almighty scream she launched the glass she had been holding against the wall before she turned and left the room.

She walked for what felt like hours. Through the woods, down by the river, and eventually came to the little clearing, the place that her and Natasha had often come to hide from everyone when they wanted a break to either sit in the sun or just chill after a particularly hard mission. She was surprised to find Clint already there, leaning against a tree trunk.

“Didn’t know you knew about this place?” Katie looked at him.

“Nat brought me out here the other day.”

“Figures” Katie dropped down beside him. “She brought me here too, quite a bit actually.”

“Where’s Cap?” Clint asked. Katie shrugged, tugging at the grass on the floor, before throwing the strands she pulled from the ground into the air in front of her. “You two had a fight?”

“Kinda.” she sighed. “I said some pretty shitty things.” “Sure it’ll work out.” Clint said.

“Maybe.”

Clint turned to her “It can’t have been that bad, surely?” And then before she knew it, she’d told him everything. About the mission, about Peggy, about being angry for no real reason other than she felt a pang of jealousy over him smiling when he saw another woman back in the seventies, a woman who he had last seen frail and ill in a hospital bed. And then she was angry, angry at everything, at why Natasha had taken those fucking words, Steve’s words, ‘whatever it takes’ literally, and had given her life to bring people back.

“We don’t’ trade lives.” she sniffed, finishing rather pathetically as she wiped her eyes.

Clint sat in silence, sliding an arm round her shoulders. “She chose to do it Nova. I tried to stop her but…” “Her choosing doesn’t make it easier, Clint.” “Not for those of us left behind, no.” He agreed. “But she was at peace with her decision. And this isn’t Steve’s fault no matter what you think.” “I don’t think that.” Katie sighed “Not really.” “Good because that is almost as stupid as the other shit you’re thinking.” Clint looked at her “Steve loves you.”

“I know he does.” “Just listen to me.” the Archer looked at her sternly. “It’s always been obvious how much he loves you, and over the past few months I’ve also seen how much he loves your kids.”

Katie looked down at her hands as Clint continued.

“But the thing is, you love your kids because you have no choice. And by that I mean you just can’t help it. They’re part of you, but each other, well you choose that.” He paused as she looked up at him, his eyes flashed with a mix of upset and slight anger. “You need to get your head out your ass, Nova, and look around you. I lost my family five years ago. You gained yours, and you’re trying to do what exactly? Goad Steve into an argument about an ex-girlfriend or whatever from almost eighty years ago?” Clint shook his head “Stop being a dick.”

Katie knew he was right. She was being ridiculous, she’d known that the minute Steve had left her in the common room. She took a shaky breath, the tears pouring down her cheeks and the arm round her shoulders gave her a squeeze

“Nat would be so pissed at me right now.”

“Yep.” Clint breathed out, and Katie gave a soft watery laugh, as she lay her head on her friend’s shoulder, the two of them sitting in silence. *****

When neither Steve nor his Sister answered FRIDAY’s calls, Tony figured that something had happened so he’d gone in search of Steve first, knowing he’d be the most rational out of the two. FRIDAY told him he was down in the gym, and as he rounded the corner towards the training room, he could hear the sound of fists pummelling the punching bags. The door swung open and sure enough, the soldier was there, his arms moving at an astonishing rate, grey t-shirt stuck to his back with sweat as he hit the sand bag again and again and again.

“Cap?” He spoke a little tentatively, and Steve landed one final punch before he grimaced slightly, turning round, shaking out his hand. “Take it it didn’t go well then.” “You could say that.” Steve sighed, breathing heavily. “I left her in the common room with a bottle of vodka.” Tony frowned “Was that wise?” “Probably not.” Steve shrugged, feeling a pang of guilt before he took a deep breath, blooded hands falling to his hips. “But I don’t know what else to do Tony. She was just trying to goad me into an argument and, well, frankly, I couldn’t be bothered.” He slumped down onto one of the benches, running his hands through his sweaty hair.

“They say there are five stages to grief.” Tony mused, sitting down next to him. “Denial, anger, bargaining…” “…depression and acceptance, yeah.” Steve nodded.

“Well, you apparently go through them in order.” Tony looked at him. “But from personal experience, that’s a load of shit. When mom and dad died I just went off the rails. Oh, I accepted they were gone but, well the anger and depression continued for a very long time.”

Steve took a deep breath and looked at him.

“And I reckon it would have continued even longer had it not been for the fact that it became a very real threat that Kiddo would have been taken off me.” “I know she’s grieving, Tony, I really do but this whole thing about Peggy is ridiculous. You know what she said? That she’d stolen extra Pym particles and told me I could go back, see what I missed.” Steve snorted, shaking his head. “I mean does she actually seriously think that I’d even consider that?” “No.” Tony cut him off. “She doesn’t, not really. Look, today has been a head fuck for us all. She’s lashing out and wants a reaction. You’ve done the best thing by not giving her one and instead you’ve taken it out on a non-sentient item…” He nodded to the punching bag which was dripping sand to the floor.

Steve sighed and looked down at his split knuckles, flexing his fingers and wincing slightly. “Suppose I best go see if she’s drunk herself into oblivion yet.” He stood up “FRIDAY, where’s Katie?” “Mrs Rogers is back in the Living Quarters, Captain. Would you like me to call her?” “No, it’s okay, thanks.” He sniffed as Tony stood up. Steve gave him a gentle nod, before he left the training room, without another word.

Tony watched him go before he looked around at the three destroyed bags, sand scattered all over the floor, spotted with a few droplets of Steve’s blood from his knuckles. He sighed, his head hanging heavily for a moment before ran his hands over his heard.

“FRIDAY, get someone to clean this up.”

**** When Steve walked back in the apartment Katie stood up off the sofa and looked at him for a moment, an awkward silence hanging between them.

“Where’ve you been?” He asked, his voice even and soft.

“With Clint. Talking about stuff.”

Steve fully understood that ‘stuff’ would most likely have included as well as Natasha. He took a deep breath and gave her a curt nod. “I’m going for a shower.” “Okay.” She replied gently, almost nervously even. Steve gave her another passive look before he headed into the en-suite, turning the water on as hot as he could stand. He ached even more now than he had before, and he was beyond tired. He didn’t want to fight, not anymore. On the plus side, Katie wasn’t drunk, so that was something. He just hoped that whatever Clint had said to her had helped. He cleaned himself quickly before shutting off the water, drying himself down and emerging a few minutes later, dressed in a clean pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He found Katie in the kitchen, pulling a dish out of the oven.

“I assumed you’d want food. I made mac and cheese. Call it a peace offering?” She looked at him, her eyes watering a little.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” She sniffed, and Steve saw her bottom lip beginning to quiver again. “Stevie, I’m so sorry, I…” With a sigh he reached out to her and pulled her to him and she went willingly, melting into his arms. “I love you, and I shouldn’t have taken stuff out on you, I’m sorry, I really am…” she rambled into his chest as he held her close.

“I know.” He pressed a kiss to her head. “But, honey, I’m tired of trying to make you understand. I love you. I don’t want or need anyone else.” “I know, I was just, well, I just saw that photo on her desk and…”

“It was just a photo.” “Yeah but that’s it, it’s not just a photo.” She protested between her sobs. “I have that exact photo in my office too, because it’s you and,” she took a deep breath, “I never knew you before the serum but I wish I did because it’s who you are. Not Captain America but Steve Rogers. My Steve.”

“Oh, baby.” Steve pulled away and took her face in his hands. “I’ll always be yours.”

She gave a watery smile and slid her hands over his as his thumbs gently wiped away her tears, and then she frowned as she felt his knuckles. She gently pulled his hands down to look at them before she glanced up at him, fresh tears in his eyes as the memory of the last time he’d beaten his hands to a pulp on the punch-bag flashed across her mind, the time he’d been grieving for their lost friends and their baby.

“You haven’t done this since…” “I know.” “Stevie.” Her face crumpled again at the thought of what she had pushed him to and he shook his head, his hands falling to her hips.

“Look at me.” He instructed, and she raised her gaze to his. “I heal fast, you know this.” She spluttered a laugh and he smiled. “But I really am fucking hungry, so how about we eat and then curl up in bed and tomorrow we face head on together?”

She nodded. He dropped a kiss to the top of her head and she turned away to dish up their food.

They ate in silence, but it was comfortable and when they’d finished they both cleared away the dishes before heading into the bedroom. Katie retreated somewhere for a moment, coming back with the first aid kit which she used to gently clean his split knuckles. There was no need, they weren’t as bad as they could be, but she wanted to care for him, and Steve wasn’t about to deny her the opportunity. Then came the arnica, which he really did want as his upper body was absolutely wrecked.

She gently grasped at the bottom of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head before he shifted so he was lead on his front, with a groan befitting of all his hundred and five years. Katie moved so that she was straddling him from behind, her soft hands gently rubbing over his broad back.

“I would offer you a massage. But I think it would hurt.” “Yeah it would so thanks but no thanks” Steve mumbled into his pillow and she gave a soft laugh

“Maybe tomorrow?”

He nodded as her hands slid up to his shoulder, gently working there before she patted him softly on the ass.

“Turn over.” With a heave he did as he was told, eyes closed as she gently swept over his bruises to his ribs and torso, before her thumb skated over the one on his left cheek. Her thumb was replaced by her lips, which flickered down his jaw, his neck, over his Adam’s apple and back up to his mouth. With a soft sigh he accepted her kiss which was soft and she pulled back, nibbling on his bottom lip before she pressed her forehead to his.

“I love you.” She whispered softly, and he opened his eyes and nudged her nose gently with his. “I’m sorry.”

“I know, and I love you too.” His eyes locked onto hers. “So goddamned much it hurts at times.” “Just at times?” She teased and he rolled his eyes, causing her to giggle a little. He reached up and brushed her hair behind her ears.

“Until the end of the line.”

She looked at him, her eyes full of warmth before she leaned down and kissed him again, this time with urgency. He hungrily kissed her back, his hand in her hair as he pulled her to him, before he rolled them over, ignoring the aches to his body. Nudging her head back with his nose on her jaw he gently kissed up her neck, nipping at the spot underneath her ear, listening to the soft sigh she made before she moved and pulled his mouth back to hers, her hand tangling in the hair at the back of his head. He grasped her T-shirt and broke the kiss to pull it over her head before their lips locked again, his hands gently squeezing her hips as she shimmied under him with a soft whimper. A few deftly undone buttons later and the pair of them were naked, soft kisses and teasing touches being shared, but no words.

They didn’t need any.

Steve laced his fingers into hers, gently holding her hands above her head as he slid home, causing her to gasp and drop her head back. His movements were slow, deliberate, his hips hardly moving as he rocked into her, stroking her spot again and again. She arched her back, her head dropping further onto the pillow, and his lips kissed every inch of her neck he could find before he sucked and nipped his way across her collarbone whilst she keened underneath him, hiking her legs around his waist, locking her ankles behind him to keep him close to her. His movements grew deeper, but never faster, there was no urgency to any of this. It was love, it was about being close, the connection, making one another forget the shitty events of the day. Steve wanted his wife to understand what he felt and in turn she wanted him to realise she knew. She knew he loved her, and she loved him.

She came with a soft cry of his name, her orgasm creeping up on her. It wasn’t a sudden explosion, more a long drawn out burn but no less intense. Her back arched and she pulsed around him, drawing a deep rumble from Steve’s throat as she did, and his lips caught hers with slightly more urgency as his hips picked up their pace, thrusting deeply whilst she clamped around him, hot and tight. It wasn’t long before he found his own release and with a low keen of her name his rhythm stuttered, eventually slowing to a stop and he let go of her hands, breathing heavily, as he gently cupped her face and kissed her deeply.

Still without a word, her hands tangled in his hair, nails scratching his scalp and he gave a soft sigh, closing his eyes as he relished her touch. Sliding his nose up against hers he gave her a gentle smile before he rolled over, pulling her with him. Her head found its favourite spot on his chest, and her hand gently tangled in the dark hair besides her cheek.

“I’m gonna miss her.” She whispered a moment or so later. “So much.”

“I know, Doll.” he sighed, pulling her closer, pressing a kiss to her head. “We all are.” Katie didn’t speak again. It wasn’t long before her breathing grew even and Steve knew she was asleep. He could feel himself slipping under, and right before he lost consciousness, for some reason Katie’s voice came back to him, her angry jibe filling his head.

“You can always go back, check out what you missed.”

Steve realised there was a slight irony to her words, as roughly eleven years ago he would have jumped at the chance. But not now.

Not now…

Chapter 56

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #Katie Stark #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #mcu #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans characters

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noladyme · 4 years ago

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La Cuervo - Chapter 24

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on, on Mayans M.C., are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambiguous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

24.

Nina’s ears were ringing, and her throat was hurting from her screaming. A pair of strong hands took the gun from her hands, and she fell forwards; into Angel’s arms. He held her close, and stroked her hair. “Shh, you’re ok, mami… You’re ok…”. Nina looked up at him, and ran her fingers over his face, as if checking for gun wounds. “I didn’t…”. “No. I’m here. We’re ok…”, Angel said; his voice shaky.

Looking at the floor next to them, Nina saw Sala coughing up blood. He was bleeding from a hole in his chest, and soon his coughing turned into small sputters for air; before, finally, he went quiet. The room was filled with Mayan and SOA presidents. Filip, Bishop and Packer all stood with their guns aimed at Palo. Alvarez was still aiming at Sala, after he’d shot him. “Sorry we’re late… We were busy trying to figure out where Angel had gone off to”, Bishop grunted. “He left before we could finish explaining the plan to him”. Angel looked at him with pure rage in his eyes. “Where did you think I’d be going…? What the fuck is this, Bish’?”, he asked. “The end of VM”, Bishop said. “Your men were lost as hell without you there, Palo”, Alvarez said. “Most of them are one their way back south; but the ones that did try to stay and fight…”. “Dead… They’re all dead”, Packer smirked. Taza got to his feet, and Bishop handed him a knife. “We had an agreement!”, Palo growled at the VP. "You're gonna have a war on your hands...". “You put a snitch in our midst! And you’ve been moving in on our territory and business for a long time”, Bishop retorted. “You declared war on us a long time ago. You’re not getting the girl”. Angel stood up, and pulled Nina with him; tucking her into his side.

“So, the deal you were offering…?”, Palo hissed. “Here’s your deal”, Taza said, and walked over to Palo. “Get on your knees”. Palo shook his head. “That’s how you want to do this, hermano?”, he asked. “You call me hermano…”, Taza said, his voice pained. “You had a brother. His name was Davíd. And we both loved him; I know that… You just loved your reputation more,”. Bishop walked over to Palo, and forced him onto his knees. “Take off your cut”, he said. Palo looked at him with cold eyes; and didn’t move. Filip and Packer walked over to him, and pulled the leather off him with force; throwing it on the floor in front of him, with the patch facing upwards. Alvarez walked over to Taza, and patted his shoulder. “This is your battle to end, Che”, he said; giving the official El Padrino blessing for what the VP was about to do.

Barely able to stand, Nina dug her fingers into Angel’s cut. He held her tighter, and pressed his lips to the top of her head. Taza stepped over to look down at Palo one final time. “I did see you as a brother once, Palo. But then you killed the man I loved with every beat of my heart… Where you’re going, you will never see him again. After this, I might not either; but at least I’ll know that I’ll get to do this again in hell”. He stepped behind Palo, and grabbed his braid; forcing his head backwards. Palo’s eyes were full of fear for a second, before he closed them, and let out a deep sigh.

Just as Taza put the knife to Palo’s throat, Nina closed her eyes, and buried her face against Angel’s chest. She heard the blood spill onto the cut on the floor; and let her tears fall again.

---

Nina sat on a chair in front of the old house, smoking the perfectly rolled joint Coco had made her. It didn’t calm her down at all; and she threw it on the ground in front of her. Before she could stomp it out, Angel picked it up, and took a huff from it. “What the fuck…?”, he breathed. His eyes were wide and confused, as he looked at Bishop, who was standing, leaning against the railing of the porch. “How could you…?”. He couldn’t finish his sentence, and simply punched his fist through one of the small windows. “You’re gonna get yourself hurt…”, Nina muttered. “Like you was about to? How could you run of with Taza like that?”. “I told you, I wanted to see Palo!”. She sighed, and covered her face in her hands; leaning her elbows on her knees. “I wanted to end this without bloodshed…”. “Well, look how that turned out”, Angel growled.

Nina got to her feet, and glared at him. “Yeah, you’re right. Your plan was so much better”, she roared. “We’ll be fine, mami. We’re just gonna go wage war on a bunch of psycho bikers… See you never!”. She kicked the chair she’d been sitting on with her wounded leg; and instantly cried out in pain. Angel rushed over to gather her in his arms. “I’m sorry… I wanted to keep you safe. That’s why I came, when Bishop and Chibs old me what the presidents had planned with Taza”. Nina let him support her weight, while the pain dimmed again. “If you’d just given us a minute, I could have told you the whole plan”, Bishop said. “Instead, you went off to try to pull off a one-man rescue”. Angel cursed under his breath; picked up the chair, and led Nina to sit down on it again.

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”, Nina growled. “I needed you to believe what I told you, sweetheart… I’m sorry”, Taza said. He was standing in the doorway to the house. Filip passed him, and went to stand next to Bishop. “Why?”, Nina asked. “Because Palo had to believe it. If you so much as flinched, he would know something was off”, Filip said. “He might have been bloody monster, but he was also intelligent”. “Unlike someone else we know”, Bishop muttered, and shot Angel a hard look. “Fuck you, Bish’!”, Angel sneered. Nina grabbed on firmly to his arm, to keep him from attacking his president. “Who else knew?”, she asked. “Just us”, Taza said. “We couldn’t risk anyone messing it up by voting against it”. “If we’d taken it to the table, we’d need a unanimous vote”, Filip said. “And you’d never fucking get it…”, Angel said coldly. “How could you put Nina in danger like this?”. “She was never in any real danger", Bishop said. Taza raised a brow at his president. Nina scoffed a laugh. “You… I don’t even know how to respond to that”. “I’m sorry, little sister”, Filip tried. “Don’t”, Nina grunted. “And you?”, she said, and looked at Taza. “You lied to my face! After I showed you that you could trust me…”.

Bishop folded his arms in front of him defensively. “Revenge was Taza’s right”, he said. “We couldn’t go through with this plan without you. We needed to get Palo alone, and that was only going to happen, if Taza offered you up… And you didn’t want any more death”. “So you used me", Nina growled. “All that talk about deals…”. “I needed to keep him busy, so Bishop and the rest could get here”, Taza said.

Nina looked at Bishop. “I’m guessing this was your shitty ass plan". “No, luv'", Filip said. “It was mine". Nina was flabbergasted. “Yours…? How could you…?”. “I knew he wouldn’t kill you, once he saw the gun”, Filip said. “That’s not what I meant", Nina hissed. “Filip, you knew how I felt about being a part of more people dying". "You didn’t kill him", Filip said. “He was here for me!”, Nina roared. “He wouldn’t be dead, if I hadn’t come…”. “Palo would have kept coming for you, deal or no deal. This was for your sake as well”, Bishop said “He needed to die… This goes beyond your morals and bleeding heart…”, Filip said, his voice gruffer than usual. “Is that what Jax would say?”, Nina hissed. Filip looked like she’d slapped him. Alvarez and Packer opened the door, and began dragging out Palo’s dead body. “I can’t be here anymore…”.

Angel pulled her up to stand, and led her down the porch, and around the house. Nina didn’t look at any of the presidents or Taza as they went. She needed to get as far away from them as possible. Angel’s bike was parked behind the house. “I arrived just before you and Taza… Sala caught me off guard”, he said. “I was tied up in that back room…”. “I didn’t want anyone to get hurt”, Nina whispered. “I know”, Angel said, and got onto his bike. “At the end of the day, Palo’s dead; and we can move on”. Unsure if she agreed, Nina gingerly climbed on behind him.

They drove back to Santo Padre in silence.

---

“No!”. Nina woke up in a cold sweat; having kicked off the covers. Angel came running into the bedroom; his gun drawn. “What’s wrong?”. She was shaking, unable to control her breath; and her leg was throbbing with pain. Frantically reaching out for the small bag of pills on the bedside table, she accidentally tore it open; and all the little white tablets spread across the mattress. “Shit…”, she hissed, and began trying to gather them. Angel came over to help her, carefully moving her leg, so he could get to a few lying there. “Don’t want the cat to get to them…”, he muttered. Once they’d gathered the pills, Angel took them, and left the room. He returned moments later with a pill, and a glass of water. Nina downed the oxy, and looked at Angel hesitantly.

He looked exhausted, with bags under his eyes; and marks on his cheek from the seams of the leather couch in the living room. “I could have taken the couch tonight. You need rest”, she said quietly. “You need room for your leg… And for tossing and turning from nightmares”. He took the glass from her, and headed back into the living room; pulling the double doors almost shut behind him. The cat, which had been resting at the foot of the bed, ran after him; sneaking through the crack of the doors.

Nina sighed, and wiped her eyes. It had been four days and nights. She and Angel had led almost separate lives; with him leaving for the scrapyard in the morning, before she got out of bed. She’d always been awake when he left, but she couldn’t face talking to him about what she’d done. She'd spent her days staring at the tv, avoiding taking painkillers unless they were absolutely necessary; and avoiding picking up the pre-paid phone Angel had left her, whenever someone called. Filip had sent her a few messages, trying to get her to talk, but she couldn't find it in herself to reply. In the evenings, Angel would return with whatever groceries she’d left a note for him to get. They’d avoid each other’s gazes, and Nina would limp back to the bedroom, leaving the doors on a crack. Officially it was to let Bug get in and out of the room – in reality she couldn’t help but hope that Angel would slip in during the night, and take her into his arms. She knew he was angry; and she understood his reasons. She’d gone behind his back with Taza, and he’d ended up kneeling on a plastic sheet, with her aiming a gun at him.

The feeling of the gun in her hands returned, and Nina clenched her fists, and swallowed bile. She knew she wouldn’t have been able to pull that trigger. Angel would have had to do it for her; and he’d been about to, when Alvarez had stepped in to the room, and shot Sala. Angel loved her so much, that he had been about to give his life for her, and the people she cared about; some of which he didn’t even know. And here they were now, avoiding each other like the plague.

Unable to take the silence between them anymore, Nina got out of bed, and limped towards the door; taking a deep breath before she opened them. Angel was seated on the couch, smoking a cigarette, and scratching the cat behind its ears, as it lay resting next to him. The tv was on, lighting up the room with an eerie shade of grey. Grabbing the remote, Angel shot her a look. “I’ll turn it down”, he muttered. “No… It’s fine”, Nina said quietly. “Can we talk? Please…? I can’t take this anymore”. Angel sighed, and stubbed out his smoke, before turning off the tv. “Talk… About what?”.

Nina hobbled over to sit on the armchair at the end of the coffee table. Bug lifted his head, and looked at her. She couldn’t help but think the cat was scowling at her; clearly having chosen sides. “I understand that you’re angry…”, she began. “I’m not angry, Nina…”, Angel said. “Please don’t say; I’m disappointed…”. He met her eyes, and they looked at each other for a long moment – much longer than they’d kept eye contact for days. “What do you want me to say?”, he shrugged. “I thought you trusted me”. “I did… But I didn’t have any way of calling you…”, Nina tried. “If you did, you still wouldn’t have”, Angel grunted. She swallowed thickly. “You’re right… I thought I knew better…”. “But you didn’t… Fuck, Nina. Everything I’ve been doing these last weeks has been to keep you safe”. Angel clenched his jaw, and shook his head in defeat. “Fact is, you didn’t trust me to be able to do that”. “Of course I did… I just wanted to avoid…”. Her words disappeared into a whimper. She wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry”. Angel shook his head. “No… I’m sorry that I wasn’t enough for you… I should have showed you…”. “You were… You are!”, Nina enthused. “I know I fucked up… I was so stupid, and you almost died. I had a gun on you…”. A tear ran down her cheek. “Don’t do that…”, Angel said. “I’m alive. You didn’t do nothing”. “I wouldn’t have”. “I know…”.

Nina took another deep breath, and met his eyes again. “Do you want me to leave?”, she whispered. Angel’s eyes widened. “What? No!”, he said. “You thought I… No, cuervo”. He got off the couch, and went over to kneel in front of her. “I don’t know how to handle shit like this. No one’s ever gotten close to me like this before… Fuck, I’ll admit it. I’m not the most emotionally mature guy out there. I didn’t know how to talk to you, after what happened”. He took her hands, and pressed his soft lips to them. “You’ve been avoiding me…”, Nina croaked. “You’ve been hiding your ass in the bedroom, whenever I came home”, Angel muttered. “I was afraid you wanted me gone… That if I came out to face you, you’d ask me to pack up”. Moving his hands to grab either side of her face; Angel looked seriously at her. “That ain’t never gonna happen”, he enthused. “Nina, I was so fucking scared I was gonna lose you… When I found out you’d gone with Taza, I wanted to kill Bishop and Chibs where they were standing”. “They tried to tell you about the plan… The real plan”, Nina said. “Yeah but I didn’t hear them out. I was out of there”, Angel said. He took her hands again, and kissed them. “They knew I wouldn’t have gone for the plan, unless it was already under way… I wasn’t gonna put you in danger like that”.

Nina let her fingers merge with his, and stroked his knuckles with her thumb. “You could have died… Palo and Sala died… All this fucking bloodshed”, she croaked. “I… I fucking hate them right now”. “I know what hate does to a man…”, Angel quoted Jax. “I’m pretty sure that goes for women too…”. “Are you on their side all of a sudden?”, Nina grunted. “It ain’t about sides…”, he said. “I don’t like how they went about it, but they did what they felt they had to… I’m pissed that they put you in that position… But I get it”. “You’re saying I should forgive and forget…”. “Not forget… But maybe forgive and understand”. He raised a brow at her. “That’s your family, ma’… They’re not perfect, but they love you”. “They used me to do exactly what I wanted to avoid”, Nina frowned. “How am I supposed to trust them again?”. “The same way I gotta learn to trust you not to go behind my back again”, Angel retorted, unable to avoid the slight edge to his voice. “Time…”. Nina looked down, feeling her cheeks burning in shame. “Are you sure you wanna take that time? To learn how to trust me…”, she almost whispered. “The rest of my life, mami…”, Angel smiled. “And… I do trust you. I get why you did what you did. You were following your heart, or whatever. I can always trust you to do that”.

She met his eyes again. “Do you still… love me?”. “You really gotta ask that?”, Angel chuckled. “You’re my fucking endgame. That fairytale ending I don’t deserve”. “I’m not a princess”, Nina smiled embarrassedly. “Pretty damn close”, Angel said. He straightened up, and put her hand over his heart. “Nina Teller… Cuervo. I love you… Like love you”. “Te amo, Angel”, Nina whispered. “Enough to let me sleep in the bed again? Next to you?”, Angel asked. “I’ve wanted you in there for four days”. “Thank fucking god! My ass keeps sticking to this fucking couch. It’s impossible to get any sleep”, he grinned. “And that fucking cat farts!”. “You love him”, Nina said. “I tolerate the little asshole”, Angel said, and got to his feet.

He pulled Nina up to stand, and began leading her towards the bedroom. “How’s your leg? Is the pill working?”. “Yeah… Doesn’t hurt so much anymore”, Nina said. “I wanna cut down on the pills. They make me drowsy”. “Might be those joints Coco’s been rolling for you, and leaving by the front door”, Angel chuckled, and held her hand, as she climbed back in to bed. “I haven’t smoked any of them. Didn’t wanna mix them with the oxy”. “Right, I forgot. You’re one of them smart girls”, Angel smirked. He took off his beater, and got under the covers with her.

As Nina laid on her side, Angel pulled her close to his chest, to spoon her. He left a kiss on her shoulder; before sighing deeply. “What?”, Nina asked. “When you’re turned this way, I can’t kiss you… and I haven’t done that in days”, Angel said. Nina turned in his arms, and brushed her thumb over his lower lip. “Is this better?”, she asked. “Much”, Angel replied; and leaned in, to let their lips meet. It was the perfect kiss; like it was the first one they’d ever shared, and at the same time the most familiar and natural thing in the world. Trying desperately to make up for how much they’d missed sharing these moments, their tongues soon met; and refamiliarized themselves with each other.

As their kiss grew heated, Nina couldn’t help but let out a soft moan. She felt Angel smile softly against her lips, and then his warm tongue brushing down her neck; before he latched on to her pulse point. A familiar tingling sensation began spreading through her lower abdomen; and as Angel turned to lean over her, and cover her with his body, Nina pushed at his chest, to halt him. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”, Angel asked worriedly. “No, I’m just… Are we ok?”, Nina said. “I don’t wanna just have sex, and then pretend we’re fine; because we know how to make each other come”. Angel sighed, and licked his lips. “We got shit to work through”, he said. “But isn’t that normal in… whatever it is you call this thing we’re doing?”. “You mean relationships?”, Nina said. “Relationship…”, Angel said, as if tasting the word. “Yeah. That… We’ll be ok…”. He kissed her softly again. “Ok…”, Nina smiled. Angel raised his brows at her. “Now, can I make you come?”, he smirked. Nina felt her cheeks burn. “Yeah… I’m good with that”, she rasped.

Angel grinned at her, and attacked her lips with another kiss, while sliding his hand down her belly, and under the waistband of her sleeping shorts. “No panties?”, he asked. “It’s comfortable”, Nina shrugged. Angel smirked, and sat up. “Why don’t you get even more comfortable?”, he suggested, and began tugging at her tank top. Nina sat up, and let him pull it over her head. Laying back again, she smiled, as Angel brushed his fingertips over her erect nipples. “Perfect…”, he said, and moved his hand down to the apex of her thighs again; slipping it behind the fabric covering her warmth.

Nina instantly gasped, as Angel flicked his finger over her clit. “There she is”, he said, and moved his head down to suckle at her neck again. Pushing his hips forwards, Nina felt Angel’s hardness pressing against her thigh; and let out a wanton sigh. “Tell me what you want…”, Angel said, and kissed her. “You want my mouth?”. His tongue brushed against her lower lip; reminding her of how he’d do the same to her folds. “Uh huh…”, Nina breathed. “Please eat me out, papi”. Angel began stroking his finger back and forth between her labia. “Ok. I’ll do that for you… But you gotta do something for me”, he said, and circled her clit gently. “Anything… please”, Nina pleaded. The flame inside her was already beginning to evolve into a full-on bonfire.

Angel got on his knees over her, and carefully pulled down her shorts; leaving her wetness bare. He brushed his fingertips through her curls. Before she knew what had happened, Angel had turned to lie with his head in the opposite direction that Nina. He gently lifted her to lie on top of her; bringing him face to face with her warmth, and Nina at eyelevel with his covered erection. For a short second, Nina felt self-conscious at the position she was lying in; her knees on either side of Angel’s head, and all of her most intimate parts on full display for him. Had she been on her back, like she usually was, she would have been able to see Angel’s appreciative eyes; but as it was, she had no idea whether he looked like what he was actually seeing was something he liked. On top of that was the fact that he had a full view of her rear; a part of her anatomy he’d paid some attention before, but which she hadn’t yet fully explored as an erogenous zone.

Nina was ripped out of her nervous musings, as Angel licked a streak from her clit to her opening. The sensation was so overwhelming, that Nina had to grab on to the nearest thing to ground herself. That thing just so happened to be Angel’s clothed cock. “Fuck, mami…”, he moaned. “Squeeze it”. Nina gave his penis another tug, and was rewarded with Angel’s lips closing around her clit, and his suckling at it. Spurred on by the sinful pleasure he was bringing her, Nina hooked her thumbs into the waistband of his boxers; and as Angel lifted his hips, she tugged them down, to let him spring free. The tip of his hardness bumped against her nose, and she chuckled. Angel unlatched from her. “What?”, he asked, sounding out of breath. “Boop”, Nina giggled. Angel laughed, and gave her left butt cheek a playful slap, before digging back in.

Nina folded her hands around Angel, and began stroking him, while closing her lips around the head, and suckling at the precum. She felt Angel’s hands stroking her butt cheeks, and his fingers brushing down between then; before pulling them apart, to give him better access. Nina lowered her head, to take him deeper into her mouth, and they moaned simultaneously, as they each sucked deeply at the others most sensitive areas. Angel pressed his thumb against Nina’s sphincter; and she pulled him out of her mouth to gasp, just as the tip of his finger made it inside her. His thumb retreated quickly. “You want me to stop?”, Angel breathed. “No, keep going!”, Nina squeaked, before she knew the words had fallen from her mouth. Angel chuckled, and used his other thumb to gather wetness from her opening; before circling her hole with it. Once again, he pushed against her hole, and his thumb made it inside to the knuckle. “Holy fuck…”, Nina gasped. “Keep sucking me, mami…”, he said. “I want your lips around me”. Nina obeyed immediately, and took him deep into her mouth, while Angel went back to sucking and licking at her clit. He moved his thumb back and forth slowly, and a delicious heat tingled through her. It was hard to keep from whimpering around Angel’s cock, but he seemed to enjoy the vibrations it made, and flicked his tongue against her clit as a thank you.

Getting braver by the second, Nina reached back, and grabbed his free hand, trying to get him to pay attention to her tunnel. Angel grunted against her, and entered her with two fingers. He twisted his thumb inside her anus, and his other fingers brushed against her g-spot perfectly. Within a very short time, Nina, had to unlatch from his penis, and let out a loud moan in pleasure. “Does this feel good? You like my fingers inside you?”, Angel asked. She could hear the grin on his face. “Please… I’m gonna…”, she whimpered. “You gonna come?”. “Uh huh…”, Nina almost sobbed. “You better put my dick back in your mouth, or I’ll stop”, Angel warned. Nina immediately closed her lips around his hardness again, and began bobbing her head up and down. “Good girl…”, Angel moaned, and pressed his tongue against her clit, brushing it up and down. Nina led out audible moans and whimpers around his cock, and let the delicious taste of Angels warm skin add to the pleasure he was giving her between her legs.

Moving his hands faster and harder, Angel had Nina in tears at this point. Suddenly, he was pushing her over the edge, and she fell into ecstasy. Her whole body vibrated from her muscles tightening around his fingers. Angel drew them out, and made her get off him; gingerly pulling himself out of her moaning mouth. Manhandling her to get on her back, he got between her legs, and thrusted in to her. “Fuck, you’re tight! You’re coming so hard you’re pushing me out…”. “No… No, stay inside me”, Nina panted. She put her hands on his butt, and tried to force him back inside her, every time he moved his hips back. “I’m not going anywhere…”, Angel smiled, and laid down to cover her with his body. His weight pushing her into the mattress, stretched out her orgasm, and Nina cried out in pleasure. “I love that sound… You’re gonna make me come”. He began thrusting hard, his breath ragged, and his eyes desperate. He needed his release. “Please, I want it”, Nina pleaded. At her words, Angel let out a guttural groan, and spilled himself inside her; before collapsing on top of her.

They laid there for a long moment. Angel buried his face in the crook of her neck, and kissed her skin softly. Letting her fingertips brush up and down his strong back, Nina let her breathing calm down; and relaxed in their post-coital bliss. Angel was limp on top of her, and his breath tickled her neck. “I love you…”, she whispered into his ear. Angel let out a soft snore, and Nina couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Sweet dreams, my Angel”.

---

tags: @cole-winchester @doloreschanal

#angel reyes #angel reyes fic #angel reyes x oc #mayans mc #mayans mc fic #sons of anarchy #angel reyes smut

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