#i am this close to cutting open my fucking face somebody save me

[torifuckingspring]

it's funny

[enchantestuff]

hatred - Charles Leclerc

I think I might make this into a mini series with an enemies to civil with each other to friends to lovers kind of vibe but I'm still not sure, anyways here's Charles x reader wanting to rip each others throats but instead end up ripping each others clothes off

gonna dedicate this to the lovely @yungbludz​ happy birthday <33

GIF NOT MINE

warnings; smut as per usual, Charles being very egotistical, choking, language, enjoy <3

2k words 

part two

It was safe to say you and Charles hated each other. You knew hate was a strong word, but you also knew that you felt nothing but hatred for the man. You hated his cocky smile and the fact that everyone seemed to be obsessed with him. You also hated the fact that you had to spend the whole weekend with him.

You worked for Ferrari, meaning that, unfortunately, you had to spend a lot of time with Charles. You were actually excited when you first got the job of being Charles Leclerc's PR manager. You had admired the driver and couldn’t wait to work alongside him, but that all changed once you actually met him and realised what an ass he really was. Everyone else loved him, of course, because he seemed to be nice to every single person on the planet except you.

You and a select number of the Ferrari team had been invited to a special charity event taking place in the ballroom of a luxurious hotel. You had all decided to check into the hotel the day before the event, in order to save time and familiarise yourself with the venue. Of course, according to your job description, you also had to run through the possible questions Charles could be asked with him.

Although Charles loathed you, he had to admit you were good at your job and managed to prepare him for every possible scenario, which is why he hadn’t begged Mattia to fire you, at least not yet.

You sighed as you reached the check in desk, all you wanted to do was flop onto the hotel bed and sleep until the morning. You gave the lady behind the desk your name and watched as she quickly typed on the computer in front of her. “Ah yes, Y/N and Charles, room 506”

Your eyes widened at her words as you shook your head. “No no, that can’t be right” you pleaded as you leaned your arms against the counter.

“Im sorry ma'am, but the booking is for the both of you” she explained with apologetic eyes as she handed you the room key.

“Take your time, Y/N. Not like we aren’t all exhausted from our long trip” you heard Charles scold from behind you. You quickly turned around and shoved the room key into his chest.

“Politetly, go fuck yourself, Leclerc” you muttered as you shouldered past him and walked straight to Mattia on the other side of reception. Mattia sighed once you walked over and gestured for you to begin arguing with him, he knew it was going to happen.

“Why? Why would you stick me in a room with that-that imbecile!” you snapped.

“Listen, Y/N, i know how much you dislike him and vice versa, but everyone had to be paired with someone and I thought this was the best option for you both” he explained with a soothing voice.

“Why do I have to be with her?” you heard Charles ask from behind you. You felt small standing in front of him, his broad frame practically trapping you between him and Mattia.

“Y/N is your PR manager, it's her job to prepare you for this event” Mattia once again calmly explained

“And she couldn’t do that over breakfast?” Charles inquired, you could feel his tense gaze on the back of your head and you whipped around scoffing at him as you placed your hands on his hips.

“Don’t act like this was my idea! Not everyone wants to share a room with you Charles, get your head out of your ass”

Charles opened his mouth to throw a rude remark your way but Mattia stopped him before he got the chance. “The both of you are sharing this room, whether you like it or not. I think everyone would prefer if you took this time to sort out your problems instead of bickering like children. I’ll see you both at breakfast. Goodnight,” he scolded as he walked off with his luggage in tow.

You felt your cheeks redden as embarrassment creeped up your shoulders. “Are you trying to get me fired?” you accused Charles as you grabbed your own luggage and made way for the elevator.

He shrugged in response, “Wouldn’t be the worst thing” he muttered, stepping inside with you. You pressed your floor number and sighed in frustration. “Can you stop breathing so loud?” he groaned, rolling his eyes.

“It was a sigh, dipshit.”

“Trust me, i don't want to be near you as much as you don't want to be near me”

“Glad we're on the same page” you replied, stepping out of the elevator and storming to your room, which in hindsight was a foolish idea as Charles had the key and you had to wait for him as he took his sweet time walking up the hallway.

He unlocked the door with a smug look on his face and stepped in before you, dropping his luggage on the floor as he surveyed the room. “You have got to be kidding me” he complained once he saw the double bed in the middle of the room.

“Oh what is it now, Charles?” you asked as you shut the door behind you “is the carpet not to your liking? Is it too bright? Are there no chocolates on the pillow” you continued and slipped off your shoes, “do you want me to - oh shit” you cursed as you saw the predicament you both were in. “Looks like you're sleeping on the floor” you shrugged whilst walking towards the bed.

“I am NOT sleeping on the floor,” Charles complained.

“What? And you think I am?” you argued, once again placing your hands on your hips.

“I don’t see why not,” he commented, crossing his arms across his chest.

“I am not sharing a bed with you, Leclerc! So you,” you jabbed a finger at his chest, “are going to have to step off your mighty throne and take the gentleman approach and sleep,” jab “on,” jab “the floor,” you snapped.

Charles raised his eyebrow as he stared at you. You could cut the tension between the two of you with a knife, it was almost unbearable. You had never fought this long, somebody had always interrupted you both before you got the chance to really push each other's buttons. “I'm going to say this nice and slow, sweetheart,” Charles growled, taking a step forward, you in turn took a step back as you removed your finger from his chest, “I’ll take the high road, we can share the bed just this once, as long as you stop acting like the spoiled princess that you will never be” he continued to walk towards you as he spoke and you were eventually trapped against the wall.

Charles moved his hand to lie on the wall next to your head, the distance between the two of you becoming smaller and smaller by the second. “I might be ready to step off my throne but are you ready to be a good girl and step off yours too?” he concluded. 

“Bite me, Charles” you retorted and something in the both of you snapped as you grabbed his face in your hands and he roughly grabbed your waist. Your lips violently pressed against his as your tongues practically fought against each other. You almost moaned at the force of his kiss, but refused to give him the satisfaction.

Charles pulled away, giving your mouth a final short kiss before he moved to mark your neck. “Come on, princess. Stop being stubborn for once in your life and let me hear the noises that you can make''

You however kept your mouth shut, Charles smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “If that's how you want to play it,” he smirked before gently grabbing your breast and slipping his hands into the waistband of your leggings. He rubbed circles on your clit as he pinched your nipples. “I want to hear you, sweetheart,” he grunted.

You rolled your eyes back in pleasure and involuntarily let out a moan. Charles felt his dick twitch in his pants and cockily grinned as he kissed right under your nose. “Good girl,” he whispered. It wasn't long before his trousers were discarded as well as your own leggings. You hadn’t moved however and were still pressed up against the wall. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked and although you felt your heart skip a beat you rolled your eyes at him and nodded.

“Yes, please just - just hurry up” you squirmed against the wall. That seemed to be all the validation he needed. He slowly put a condom on before easing into you. You scrunched your eyes at the uncomfortable feeling and tapped him to move. Your lips parting on their own accord as the feeling was replaced with pure pleasure. Charles forcefully grabbed your legs and wrapped them around his waist, providing him with a better angle for both himself and you.

“O-oh shit” you moaned as you scraped your nails down his shoulders to his arms, which left harsh red marks in their wake. Charles moaned at the feeling and you were almost aroused by the sound. Almost.

One of Charles hands were digging into the soft flesh of your thigh while the other moved to wrap itself around your neck, his signature pinky ring digging into the flesh of your skin causing you to mimic his actions and let out a moan at the pain.

“You like that?” he grunted as he continued to thrust into you, lightly placing some pressure on your throat, not enough to suffocate you, he didn't hate you that much, but enough for you to enter a state of pure bliss.

“I hate you, Leclerc” you found yourself muttering but you certainly did not hate him at that very moment.

“Feelings mutual, love”

You continued to scrape your nails across his back, desperate to pull more moans out of him. Charles however, didn't like being the only vulnerable one and removed his hands from your throat, he grabbed both of your hands in his own and shoved them upwards, beginning his assault on your chest.

Your toes curled as he hit all the right spaces, you knew you were close but you really didn’t want to be the first one to let go. Charles could feel the clenching of your walls and smirked into your chest. “Are you close, princess?” he asked, bringing his mouth to your lips and for some reason you found yourself kissing him back.

“No” you blatantly lied.

You moved your head closer to him when he pulled away but he refused to connect your lips once more and you found yourself pouting at the lack of attention. God, how pathetic had you become.

“Now, i knew you were a spoiled brat but i didn't take you for a liar as well”

“Glad to know your ego has no off moments, Charles” you scoffed and were about to start an argument before he began slowly pounding into you, his precise thrusts made it extremely difficult to formulate a sentence let alone hold onto the knot in your stomach. So, against your brain telling you not to, you let go.

You would have fallen onto the ground if it wasn’t for Charles' strong grip trapping you against the wall and his own body. The noises that he made as he reached his own high caused your heart to flutter in your chest and you began to wonder if having sex with him was a bad idea.

“Are you okay?” he asked after he had pulled away from you. You nodded your head as you furrowed your eyebrows

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” you asked.

You were surprised the both of you were capable of having a normal conversation, but you supposed nothing could be normal between you after that.

Charles gently ran a finger across your neck and by the look on his face you knew you looked worse for wear. “I kind of lost myself in the moment, I’m sorry if I hurt you. Really I am” he clarified.

“Its okay” you sighed as you rubbed your neck, “lets just go to sleep”

“I’m still not sleeping on the floor”

“Just stay on your side of the bed, Leclerc”

[poisoned-peppermint]

Part 4 of incorrect quotes because i feel obligated to make more due to the sheer number of people who liked it

Dream: My dearest beloved fuckos, is a fun, gender-neutral way to begin a speech

George: See also, esteemed bastards

Bad: Gentlefolk, Ferals, and Domesticated cryptids. 

Sapnap: My fellow yees and haws

~~~~~~~

Techno:Hey I know skyrim is revered as a classic but are we just going to ignore the fact that the entire game only had like 3 voice actors

Wilbur:Stop right there criminal cum

Techno:My ancestors are smiling at me, bastard, can you say the same

~~~~~~~

Foolish:When's your bedtime :)

Purpled: Whenever I next collapse in purely up to the gods

~~~~~~

Ranboo:Human skin is a fursuit for skeletons 

Tubbo: i’m going to debone you like a fucking trout

~~~~~~

Bad:You’re enough

Bad: love yourself!!!!!!! or suffer my wrath!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Dream:And by wrath I mean love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bad:no I mean wrath!!!!! You reading this, if you don't love yourself I’ll beat you with a stick!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

~~~~~~~

Bad:I hope everyone is today well! And tomorrow!!!! After that you��re on your own.

~~~~~~

Bad:what am I supposed to do all day while you’re at work

Skeppy:I don’t know, what do you normally do while I’m gone

Bad: wait for you to get back

~~~~~~

Velvet:For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5am on the day I can sleep in

Ant:Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.

Velvet:Early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch

~~~~~~

Tubbo: 3:23 AM make a wish

Ranboo: I wish that you would go to sleep

Tuddo: Yeah well I wish I grew an inch taller every day as you get an inch shorter until you’re as flat as as a piece of paper and I’m 11 feet tall

Ranboo: You’re going to die of a mixture of skeletal instability and heart disease.

Tubbo: Yeah but I’ll look good while doing it.

~~~~~~

Bad:Disrespect me again and I’ll determine your bodies resonant frequency and play a jaunty horn solo that boils your miserable organs inside out 

~~~~~~

Quackity: If I were dating you?  Well, heh. Let’s just say horses wouldn't be called horses anymore

Karl: hey what the honk does this mean…..I’m shaking what does this mean!

~~~~~~

Skeppy: Are you ok?

Bad wrapped in a burrito blanket drinking his 6th cup of coffee: Yes, this is exactly what mental stability looks like

~~~~~~

Sam: My hands are cold

Ponk: *holds their hands*

Ponk: better?

Sam: My lips are cold too

~~~~~~

George at dream’s funeral: can I have a moment alone with them?

Sapnap: of course *leaves*

George leaning over dream’s casket: Now listen, I know you’re not dead.

Dream: yeah no shit

~~~~~~

Skeppy, jokingly: I should have Bad kill you for that.

Bad, peering around the corner: Who do I need to kill?

Skeppy: Wh- no, I was just kidding around.

Bad, pulling out a switchblade: No, who’s bothering you

~~~~~~

Bad *watching the news*: Some idiot tried to fight a squid at the aquarium.

Skeppy *covered in ink*: Maybe the squirt was being a dick.

~~~~~~

Peacock: *spreads feathers at Bad*

Skeppy: It’s trying to attract a mate

Bad, extremely confused: *shyly lifts top*

Skeppy: No!

~~~~~~

Sapnap: Karl, do you eat olives? My dad wants to know

Karl: No, I hate olives. Olives are the spawn of satan. I hate olives so much my mom forced me to live in Mount olive for the rest of my childhood as a curse from the olive gods. Do you understand how much olives have ruined my life? I'm so offended that you asked me that have some consideration for people who have been abused by olives please!

Sapnap: K A R L ……….they’re just olives!!?

Karl: JUST OLIVES EXCUSE!

~~~~~~

Tommy: If you’re bored you can simply close your eyes and rotate a cow in your mind. It’s free and the cops can’t stop you

~~~~~~

Wilbur: is there anyone even named sheldon irl?

Tubbo: my class turtle from 6th grade :)

Wilbur: that’s a turtle

Tubbo: When god sings with his creations, will a turtle not be part of the choir?

~~~~~~

Ranboo: No bcuz why do ppl like salad?? What’s so good about it

Tubbo: chew leaf like god intended

Ranboo: No

Tubbo: Abandon god and see what he does next time you lift your hands in prayer

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Guys, there’s a monster under my bed and it’s really ugly.

Wilbur, on the bottom bunk: Honestly, fuck you.

~~~~~~

Quackity: So according to the cease and desist order I got, apparently you can’t ‘legally’ be a lawyer if your license is ‘cut out of a cereal box’.

~~~~~~

Puffy: If you had too, what would you give up food or sex?

Bad: Sex.

Skeppy: Seriously, answer faster.

Bad: I’m sorry honey, when they said sex I wasn’t thinking about sex with you.

Skeppy: It’s like a giant hug.

Puffy: Ant, what about you? What would you give up sex or food?

Ant: Food.

Puffy: Okay, how about sex or dinosaurs?

Ant: ……...Oh my God it’s like the movie Sophie’s Choice.

Gumi: What about you Velvet? What would you give up sex or food?

Velvet: Oh… um… I don’t know, it’s too hard.

Gumi: No, you gotta pick one.

Velvet: Um, food… no, sex… no, food…sex… food. Ugh! I don’t know! I want both! I- I want Antfrost on bread!

~~~~~~~

Tommy, holding a gun: If the conspiracies about life being a simulation are true WHOEVERS CONTROLLING MY SIM I JUST WANNA TALK.

~~~~~~~

Bad: Why are you guys acting like this?

Boomer: Oh, we’re not acting. We really are like this.

~~~~~~

Techno: Dream has only knocked me out three times this week. Our friendship is really developing.

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re pathetic!

Wilbur: You’re pathetic-er!

Techno: You’re both losers.

~~~~~~

Bad: I wish I could help you, but I shorn’t.

Skeppy: Bad, please!

Bad: What part of shorn’t don’t you understand?

~~~~~~

Tubbo: Why did you leave Wrestlemania on for Michal?

Ranboo: They need to learn how to protect us.

~~~~~~

Antfrost: I regret getting dragged into your heterosexual tomfoolery.

~~~~~~

Bad: Strawberry milk doesn’t taste like strawberry OR milk.

Skeppy: Go the fuck to sleep Bad!

Bad: LANGUAGE!!

~~~~~~

Ranboo: Tubbo, please calm down.

Tubbo: I asked for two large fries!

Tubbo: *dumps fries onto table*

Tubbo: But all they did was give me a MILLION FUCKING LITTLE ONES!

~~~~~~

Bad: That was the worst throw ever. Of all time.

Skeppy: Not my fault. Somebody put a wall in the way.

~~~~~~

Wilbur: When you’ve been on the internet for as long as I have, you develop thick skin.

Tommy: Navy blue isn’t your color.

Wilbur: Navy blue brings out my eyes you prick! *Chases after Tommy*

~~~~~~

Bad: *Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere*

Puffy: Where did you get that?.

Bad: My pocket.

Puffy: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket?

Bad: Skills.

~~~~~~

Tubbo: I will come to your house after work and knock on your window at 11 AM. You will not open the curtains, knowing full well what awaits you, but the knocking only grows louder, more demanding. Finally it stops, your ears ringing. You nervously let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You're safe now. Minutes pass by and you start to relax. And then you hear a knock at the front door. Like before, you stay still and clutch the blankets around you. You try to tell your self that it's just your imagination. Maybe the milk man? But why would he come so late? Everyone else was asleep, save for Naomi who was playing video games down stairs. To your relief, the knocking stops after a few. Minutes and you breath easy once more. Until you hear a knock on your bedroom door. You don't move. It's just your imagination. She isn't here. She can't be here. You tell yourself, shutting your eyes and willing yourself to sleep. The knock comes again, but with horror you realize that it came from the closet inside your room. You know that you have no choice. You get up, climbing out of bed with shaking limbs. You walk to the closest, trembling, and holding back the tears threatening to spill over your porcelain cheeks. You hesitate with your hand over the closet handle. Maybe it's just your imagination? She's not really there. You can go to sleep and laugh it off in the morning. Your naive thoughts are cut off by another, more demanding knock on the closet door, inches from your face. You know what you have to do. You open the closet door, and there she stands. Chuck e cheese, the mouse looms over you in the dim light. It's soulless eyes boor into you. It raises its arms, and you flinch as it begins to floss at lightning speed. Tears spill over your cheeks. This is the last thing you'll ever see.

Ranboo: Wait, Chuck e cheese’s pronouns are she/her? Trans Chuck e cheese? Good for her.

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Would you like something to drink? *They opened the fridge* We have water, milk, juice, spiders, Dr. Pepper-

Quackity: Spiders?

Bad: Spiders it is then.

Quackity: No, that wasn’t-

*But they were already pouring him a brimming glass of spiders…

~~~~~~

Puffy : Make her pussy wet not her eyes.

Velvet : Make his dick hard not his life.

Punz : Break her bed not her heart.

Skeppy : Play with his boobs not his feelings. 

Ant : Get on his dick not his nerves.

Bad : Always salt your pasta while boiling it.

~~~~~~~

Wilbur: Bet you can’t eat 15 crayons!

Tommy: Bet you I can!

Phil: *sips coffee, checks to make sure 911 is still on speed dial, and goes back to reading the paper*

~~~~~~~

Ant: We need a way to lure in new customers?

Ponk: Maybe we could have some fun, interactive events!

Skeppy: Badboyhalo bath water.

Bad: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

~~~~~~~~

Fundy: GET BACK HERE YOU DUMB FUCK!

Wilbur: LET ME RUN FROM THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS!

~~~~~~~~

Bad: Mint is just cold spicy.

Pummel party Squad: …

Gumi: What the actual fuck is wrong with you.

~~~~~~~~

Quackity: Isn’t it amazing how I can feel so bad and still look so good?

~~~~~~~

Tommy: Why does my arm shake and turn bright red when I’m eating dirt?

Phil:

Phil: Why are you eating dirt?

Tommy: Did I ask you if I should eat dirt? No, so answer my question.

~~~~~~~

Tubbo: I wish I could control wasps and bees to sting my enemies.

Quackity: You’re too young to have enemies.

Tubbo: You don’t even know.

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Is there a cactus where your heart should be?

Puffy: What’s up your ass this morning!

Bad: *walks in* …Hi!!

Puffy: Hmm… nevermind.

Skeppy: WAIT NO!

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Ha! Don’t you know the trappers trap can trap the trapper?

Skeppy: I must be losing it, I’m quoting Bad.

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Bad, I sense hostility.

Bad: Good, because I hate you

~~~~~~~

Bad: Are you a painting?

Skeppy: What-?

Bad: Because I want to pin you to a wall.

Skeppy: OH GOD I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO SAY YOU WANTED TO HANG ME OR SOMETHING-

~~~~~~

Tommy: You’re giving me a sticker?

Phil: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!”

Tommy: I’m not a preschooler.

Phil: Fine, I’ll take it back-

Tommy: I earned this, back off!

~~~~~~

Dream, sweating: George, there’s something I need to ask you-

George: Finally! You’re proposing!

Dream: How’d you know?

George: Dream, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.

George: I even picked it up once

~~~~~~~~

*Bad and Skeppy looking at a locked gate into a park*

Bad: Aw. :(

Skeppy: You know what they say.

Bad: Please don’t-

Skeppy: BE GAY DO CRIME! *hops gate*

Bad: Frick-

~~~~~~~~

let me know if ya’ll want more <3

[parkers-gal]

can you do a rogers!daughter x Peter Parker where he confesses his love to her after a battle and the avengers hear on coms

loved this a lot <3 (might do a part two. lemme know if y’all are interested hehe)

｡☆✼★━━ requests are closed ━━★✼☆｡

You’re paired with Wanda and Clint for the latest mission: invading HYDRA for the super-soldier serum. It’s hard work, and you’ve been fighting for a good hour. You’re getting closer to the center, and as you consistently report back to your dad and Tony through the comms, you can’t help but feel like something else is bound to happen. Sure, you’re your father’s kid, and maybe you inherited a few of his enhanced abilities, but you’re wearing down the line and your muscles are starting to ache in that familiar overworked way.

“How’s it going down there?” You hear your dad through your earpiece, and with a final punch to one of the guards, you wheeze out a response.

“Fine, just clearing out the area. Are we clear to enter yet?”

“Almost.”

You hum, turning the corner with your gun up front, just as Natasha had trained you so many times before. “I’m all clear over here.”

“Proceed to the lab. Tell me if anything goes sou-”

You don’t get to hear the end of your dad’s sentence, because somebody sends you a harsh blow to the side of your head, momentarily interfering with your senses. You go stumbling to the floor, muttering a quick “fuck” under your breath.

Turning over, you move to get up, but somebody picks you up by the collar of your suit. Suddenly, you feel cold metal against your temple and you know someone’s pointing a gun at you.

“Make a move and you’re dead meat,” he seethes out. His grip on you is strong, and you blink away harsh tears while attempting to stop your winced expressions of pain. You swallow thickly, and more voices come in through your comms.

“Y/N?” Steve yells, worried. “Y/N are you okay?”

Wanda’s voice runs through your ears, “Steve, someone’s holding her hostage!”

“Who’s down?” Tony butts in.

“Y/N,” Sam fills in. “Scanner shows a gun to her head.”

“Wait, Y/N?” You hear Peter, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. God, what you would give to be with Peter instead of this HYDRA agent. “Is she alright? What’s happening? Where is she?”

“Kid, I need you to not panic,” Tony says, thrusting upwards while he flies over a portion of the building to find Steve. “Y/N’s got a gun to her head and we can’t risk anything right now.”

“Right,” Peter swallows, “Sorry.”

“Does anyone have any ideas?” Wanda inquires before sending another agent flying into the wall.

“I do,” your father barks, vibranium shield coming into contact with a man who has a gun. He pushes the door open, “Attack.” He makes his way through the hallways and corridors, hoping to find any trace of you.

“Steve, you need to be careful. We don’t know what this guy can do.” Sam reports flying alongside Tony while the two of them find Peter webbing a few people to the walls of the building.

“You okay, kid?”

Peter nods at his mentor’s question. “We need to help Y/N.” His voice comes off frantic and worried, and if this were any other occasion, Tony would’ve teased him for being so protective of you.

“Tell me what you’re here for,” the man with a gun and an awfully shaved beard questions you, the gun nudging further into the side of your head.

Your jaw clenches and you swallow again, “I’m not telling you anything.”

The man makes a move to do something, and you know it can’t be good.

Suddenly, the hairs on Peter’s neck stand upright and his Peter Tingle goes off hazardously. He pauses where he is, stopping his movement while he blinks in surprise, senses going into overload. Suddenly, he makes the connection, and in a split second, he’s running so fast Tony can’t even register where he’s going and what he’s doing.

“Kid! Hey!”

Peter bursts through the door, web slinging and snatching the weapon right out the agent’s hand before he can even blink. You gasp in surprise, head shooting in the direction of Spider-man.

Peter blows a hit to the man’s head, successfully knocking him out in one hit. He’s at your side in seconds, questions flying out while you try to adjust to the quick change in situation.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“Peter, I’m fine,” You assure him, bringing his hands away from your face.

He doesn’t get the message though, and his hands fly back up to your face, allowing you to nuzzle into his glove-clad palm. He uses his hands to turn your face, inspecting your eyes and cheeks and jaw for scratches and bruises. He’s muttering under his breath, frantic and paranoid.

“Pete, Pete,” You hold both of his hands, keeping them away from your face. “I’m fine. Are you alright? Why’re you so worried?”

The eyes of his suit widen and he backtracks slightly, but not enough to lose physical contact with you.

“Why am I so worried? You just had a gun to your head, Y/N! You could’ve died!”

“But I didn’t.”

“But you could’ve!” He huffs, neither of you realizing that the entire team can hear you through the comms — and that they are. “That guy could’ve killed you! We could’ve lost you- I could’ve lost you!”

“Peter, it’s part of the job,” You calm him down with a humorless chuckle, slightly wary of where this is going. “This wasn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. But you saved me,” He tries to dodge your hands but you persist, bringing him close. “You saved me, Peter.”

“But what if I didn’t?”

“You did.”

“But what if I don’t make it next time, huh?! What do I do then?”

You click your tongue, glancing around at the barren room and the man passed out on the floor. You take a step closer to Peter.

“You see that over there?” You point towards the glass container. “That’s the super-soldier serum.” You don’t hear the gasps of the Avengers. “You just saved my life and retrieved them. There’s no ‘what if’ when it comes to your abilities, Peter. You made it.”

He’s quiet for a few beats. “I don’t want to lose you,” He confesses, whispering it while leaning his forehead against yours. “I love you.”

You blink in surprise but his eyes are shut while he stays put against your face. His lips are mere inches from yours, and you can feel the warmth radiating off of him. The two of you are too caught up in the moment to hear everyone else gasping at Peter’s confession.

“Yeah?” You interlock your fingers, your other hand slowly taking the flap of his mask and dragging it up above his lips. His breath fans your face, and your eyelids flutter shut for a moment. “I love you, too.” It comes out as a whisper, and before you know it, Peter’s leaning in and so are you. And for a split second you realize this is your best friend that you’re kissing, but then you realize that it feels so right.

Meanwhile, Tony turns to Steve with wide eyes and Rhodey is mouthing “did you know?” to anyone who can answer. Tony puts his hands up defensively, feigning innocence, and both men turn to look at Steve, who’s beside Bucky and Sam now.

“Well?” Tony whispers?”

“I didn’t know!” Steve defends, grumbling a “not like I’d approve of it anyways.”

“I knew,” Bucky raises his hand.

“Yeah, and me,” Sam agrees and Bucky rolls his eyes with a scoff.

“No you didn’t. She told me.”

“Yeah and she told me, too.”

“Well she told me first.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is! I-”

“Guys!” Wanda cuts them off. She uses her head to motion towards a room, and heads turn in the direction of you and Peter, who are walking out with a briefcase full of the remaining serums.

“We good?” You ask as Peter pulls his mask down over his mouth and nose. Everyone nods and you walk over to your dad’s side.

“You okay, honey?”

“Fine, dad. Let’s just get out of here.”

He nods before looking at Tony. “Circle around the building and report back. Meet you on the quinjet in five.”

Peter smirks behind his mask when he realizes Bucky, Steve and Sam are all going to run their ways back to the jet.

���Race ya!” he yells before grabbing hold of your waist and thwipping up into the air. You scream in delight and Steve watches the two of you leave. Sam laughs at his seemingly protective-dad-mode.

[angryinternetduck]

a mutual feeling

harry styles x reader. enemies (kind of) to lovers. 9.5k words. summary/warnings: boxing! boxer!harry x boxer!reader, harry's dad is your trainer, you kind of hate each other, not really, it's not even enemies to lovers they're both just brats, it's boxing so there's kind of a lot of violence and blood, there's nothing too explicit, alcohol consumption, you're a better fighter than he is and you fight and end up doing it, oops, friends w benefits type of deal, he doesn't do relationships but he likes you, oops again, and you like him, triple oops, it's quite the journey but you'll make it.

***

“You look like shit,” Harry greets you when you open the door.

“And you, my love,” you respond with a slight slur, “look handsome as always.” You lean in for a kiss, and Harry gently pushes you away, rolling his eyes as he walks into your apartment. You grimace at the contact, feeling the pain even through the fuzz of the whiskey you’re holding.

“My dad would kill you if he were here,” Harry says.

You giggle, shutting the door behind him. “Well, then, thank goodness he’s not!”

Harry glares at you from your refrigerator and makes a noncommittal grunt.

You frown, suddenly, your alcohol muddled mind working through something. “Wait a minute,” you say slowly, “he’s not here… but you are!” Harry glares even more and walks back over to you. You pout as he guides you to your couch.

Groaning through the pain, you allow him to nudge you onto your back on the couch. “What,” you manage to ask through gritted teeth, “are we gonna fuck now?” Harry sighs, softening the bag of frozen peas he’s holding with his fingers. “You wish.”

He kneels down beside the couch and lays the bag over your bruised nose and black eye. He’s biting on his lip, concentrating and wincing a little bit whenever he hits a sensitive spot and you grimace. He fiddles with the peas, trying to get the bag in exactly the right spot, and you watch his eyes. His green, green, worried eyes.

“He knows,” you murmur.

Harry’s jaw clenches, and that’s the only response you need.

You roll your head away from him, breaking eye contact and letting the bag of peas slide onto your black eye. “Fuck.” Suddenly you’re sober. Harry sighs again, going still for a moment, and then another, and then he stands up and walks away.

“What if I didn’t show up tomorrow?” you ask softly.

You hear him fumbling around in your cabinet.

After a moment, he says, “You will.”

You don’t say anything, because he’s right.

Silence falls over the room, and you’re just about to ask him what he’s doing over there when there’s a loud bang. You gasp, jolting upright, and watch Harry shake out his fist. Your cabinet door is ajar, papers and knick knacks misplaced.

“You promised him, goddammit!”

You exhale slowly, sharply, leaning back as the pain from your sudden movement sets in.

“You promised me!” Harry closes the distance between the cabinet and the couch, throwing your first aid kit onto the coffee table in front of you quite violently. “Christ, you said you’re done! No more fighting.”

You close your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He breathes a second, and you can hear he’s panting. So angry. “I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do,” you go on softly when he doesn’t talk for a moment. “I get antsy, and it’s late, and, well…” You turn over a little bit, grimacing, and hold up the wad of cash.

“Train!” he bursts, ignoring the money. “You said training! Fight with my dad! It’s so easy. Fight with gloves! Spar! For fuck’s sake, you said no more of this - this underground - rubbish. You can’t be out there fighting random people just to get your rocks off.”

You frown. “It’s not -”

“You’re so fucking reckless it’s insane!” he interrupts, apparently on a rant. “I cannot believe how stupid you are. After all this, you won’t go pro, won’t stop, won’t - won’t do anything but keep fucking yourself up and leaving me to clean up after!”

That strikes a nerve, and you sit up, anger brewing in your stomach. It always seems to come to this with him. “What?” you scoff incredulously. “Leave you to clean up after?” Harry scowls at you. “What else would you call this?”

“I’d call this you getting into my business!” you exclaim. “I’d call this you coming to my house in the dead of night because you’re - you’re worried about me. That has nothing to do with me, Styles, and you fucking know it. I never asked for this. I’d be just fucking fine on my own, thank you very much.”

“Yeah?” Harry spits, grabbing the half empty bottle of whiskey and shaking it at you. “Just fine, huh? Bleeding out on your couch passed out from too much to drink, that’s fine? We have very different definitions of fine then, don’t we?”

You scowl at him, vision going red with anger, and you shout, “I’ll prove it! Leave!” You jump to your feet, getting riled up, but can only start, “There’s the -” before pain shoots through your body and you fall back down, struggling for breath.

“Shit,” Harry mutters. The bottle’s dropped and he’s at your side in a second, taking bandages and disinfectant out of your first aid kit. He pulls up your shirt, cleaning a bruise on your rib cage that broke skin before pressing a soft cloth against it. “There could be a broken rib in here,” he says under his breath. “You need to go to -”

“I’m fine,” you cut in.

He looks at you, concern in his gaze, and you have to shut your eyes.

“I can’t afford it,” you whisper. “Give it a few days. I’ll be able to tell. If it’s really bad… I’ll go.” He doesn’t reply, doesn’t say anything, but you can hear the worry in the silence. “Promise?” he says.

“Yeah.”

He grabs your hand, and you frown, and he says, “Look at me.”

You meet his eyes, lifting your hand just off the couch with your pinky extended.

He links his pinky with yours.

“Pinky swear,” you say.

***

You can tell Des is pissed from the moment you walk into the gym. You can’t even see him yet and you already know. There’s something in the air. Everybody turns to stare, eyes wide, faces shameless. They have a right, though - it’s not every day somebody comes in with fresh bruises and black eyes.

“He’s in back,” the receptionist tells you as soon as you walk up to the counter.

“Great,” you mutter. “Thanks.” You shift your bag further onto your back, heading for the back room where you train. And there he is, sitting on a bench, feet up on a yoga ball and eyes trained stubbornly on his phone.

“Hey, Mr. Styles,” you say cheerily, only a hint of sarcasm slipping into your tone.

“Don’t hey, Mr. Styles me.”

You clear your throat and shut up.

“What you did last night,” he begins, standing up and crossing his arms across his chest, “was reckless, uncalled for, and dangerous. Not to mention stupid.” You grit your teeth, letting your bag slide to the floor and leaning against the doorframe. You’re in for a long one.

“These fights aren’t only dangerous but illegal,” he goes on. “You could’ve gotten yourself jailed or worse. And you know that.” He steps forward. “The worst part is you know that. We’ve been over this so, so many times. And you still go and risk your life.”

You bite your lip and look at the floor.

“I train you because you’re good,” Des tells you. “You’re a damn good fighter, you know that? And it helps you, I can see that much. A right stupid bloody temper, that’s what you have, and if I can save some poor bloke on the street from getting his arse kicked, I will. But if you won’t go pro, won’t do it safely, and won’t stop with these bloody undergrounds I can’t do it anymore!”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Damn right you’re sorry! You promised me! You swore! Said you’d never go out again! And I had to find out from my ex wife that you’re at a fight? What the hell?” You frown at this, confused suddenly, and ask, “Anne told you?”

Des scowls and turns away. “Her coworker’s daughter’s involved. I don’t bloody know. Don’t know how, why, when - but it doesn’t matter, does it?” He rounds on you, again, and you sigh quietly, exhausted from the lecture and the guilt and the pain.

He must clock it, because he softens, taking a breath and rubbing his fingers over his eyes. “Go home,” he says. “I can’t… I can’t look at you, and you can barely lift a muscle. A right mess, you are, about to fall apart just from standing so long.”

You start to complain, “But -!”

“No. Go home. Now, or else I’ll have Harry drive you.”

Frowning at the threat, and the fact that it worked, you pick up your bag and turn to go. Before you leave, though, you look at him once more. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I really am.” Des sighs. “I know,” he says.

You walk out. Stares, round two, and then you’re outside, and you take a breath of the cool air. It’s October, cold, but it feels good. Walking down the steps, you see Harry, leaned against a tree with a book.

You roll your eyes and ignore him, hoping he won’t notice you.

But he does. He calls your name, jumps up, walks over to you.

“Save it, Harry,” you say immediately. “I don’t need another lecture.”

You see him frown from the corner of your eye. “I don’t… I wasn’t gonna.”

“Save it anyway,” you mutter.

He says your name again and stops walking. You feel his hand brush against yours, like he wants to grab your hand. Against your better judgement, you stop walking too. “What?” you ask, a bit shortly.

“I just… I’m sorry,” he says.

Your brows furrow in confusion. “For what?”

Harry clears his throat. Looks at his hands. “Last night. I shouldn’t’ve said those things.”

“Oh,” you say.

“Yeah,” he says, half smiling as he looks up again. “Oh. I just - well, you’re right, that’s all. I’m just getting in your business.” You sigh, shaking your head and starting to apologize yourself, but he cuts you off. “No, no, you don’t have to - I just wanted to say that I’m…” He breathes a laugh. “I’m available. If you want to fight. When you get antsy. Even if it’s… late.”

You can’t help but smile a little bit. “Are you offering to get my rocks off for me?”

Harry barks a laugh and then says, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Fuck yes.”

He doesn’t say anything, and your eyes lock, just for a second, and then you clear your throat, looking away. “Right, well, I’ll… I’ll see you around.” He nods. “Yeah,” he says, heading back to his tree. “See ya.”

***

Antsy.

The ceiling fan spins around above you, taunting you, pushing hot air around and around. It’s October and you’re somehow hot, cramped in your apartment. It’s a few weeks later, now, around midnight. You had a session with Des this morning, and you’re still antsy. Restless. You could probably go down the street, get your brains knocked out, earn a little cash.

Or you could call Harry.

Grotesque, just the idea of it. What a surrender. You roll out of bed, shove on pants and a sweatshirt for the cold air outside, and grab your car keys. You’re sweating by the time you get to the door, then freezing cold when you step outside.

The drive isn’t too long, a few minutes. The parking lot’s empty. It’s eerie. Des keeps a key above the door under the light. You’re surprised to see a dim light on in the back, and you’re even more surprised to see Harry hunched over a book.

“You’re in a gym, Styles, and you’re reading,” you say, breaking the silence. He jumps and looks up. His eyes are tired. “You’re in a gym,” he says back, “and it’s midnight.” His voice is raspy.

“Could say the same to you.”

“I live here.”

You raise a brow. “So?”

“You don’t.”

“Right.”

He holds your gaze. He likes to do that, likes to keep eye contact and make you think he’s staring into your soul. You’re the first one to look away. You always are. It’s unnerving. His eyes are so pretty, too. If you stare too long you start to admire him.

“You’re a bit early for a session,” he says as you put down your bag.

You pull on your gloves. The velcro is deafening. “I got antsy,” you reply.

“Did I miss a call?”

“No.”

“I’m a little offended.”

You crack your neck, bounce on your toes. “We’re not friends, Styles.”

“Right, I’m very offended.”

You step away from him, towards the punching bag. “Besides,” you say, “you’re too weak” - you throw a punch, the bag swings, creaks - “to spar with me.” Harry huffs, standing up and walking closer. “Christ, you’re just bullying me now.”

“I’m good at that.”

“Not really.”

Another punch, right hook, a combo, one, two, three, he’s standing against the wall, looking very cool with his arms across his chest. “Yeah?” you ask. “Should I try harder?” One, two, you’re starting to sweat. It feels good.

“Should stop trying at all.”

Three, four - one, one, four - “Go read your novel, Styles.”

He watches you for a second, and then sits down. He opens his book.

When you leave, an hour and a half later, he’s fallen asleep.

***

Another week and you’re wired again. The fan’s off, you’re sweating, but not in a good way. Soon you’re in the car, in the parking lot, in the gym. And… the light’s on again. For a second, you wonder if he ever sleeps.

“No wonder you’re so weak,” you start this time. “You never sleep.”

He doesn’t jump this time. “And neither, apparently, do you.”

“Least it doesn’t affect my fighting.”

“Affects your head, though. Explains the stupidity.”

You sigh. “You’re a prick.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“What are you, five?”

You look up and he’s smiling, the bastard, like it’s funny. Which it is, actually, but he’s being annoying about it. When you meet his gaze, he smiles more, just for a second, and then looks down at his book. “Won’t bother you this time,” he murmurs.

“Gee,” you say wryly, “I appreciate it.”

He doesn’t reply, just shrugs, and reads.

You frown, because you’re surprised. Not because you’re upset. Not because you wanted to talk to him. Or maybe you did. The anger is good fuel. You take it out on the punching bag.

You don’t stay as long this time. He’s still awake when you leave.

“See ya,” he says as you walk out.

These late night sessions don’t hold you over like a good fight does. Every week you’re going over there, and every week he’s there, too. The light doesn’t surprise you anymore, and to your embarrassment, you’ve begun to come up with your witty greetings on the way.

The conversations don’t last as long. It’s a back and forth, and then silence. It’s comfortable, the silence, and you don’t bring music. You should. You should block him out, forget he’s there, but you can’t.

It’s true, about the anger. It’s good fuel.

You feel him staring one night. He’s so intense. You think about his eyes, how much you hate them, how expressive they are, how you can tell exactly what he’s feeling, what he’s thinking…

The chain swings, creaks, you breathe in, out, one, two, three -

Harry catches the punching bag.

You pull your punch to keep from breaking his nose. “Shit, Styles, what the hell?”

He’s grinning at you, dimpling, you want to punch him, he says, “Let’s fight.”

“I told you,” you sigh, turning away, “you’re too weak for me.”

“The last time we sparred, I was sixteen.”

“And I’m sure you haven’t improved since.”

Harry raises his brows. “You think you’re better than me?”

“Yes,” you say, “yes I do.”

“Wanna prove it?”

You look at him, let your eyes drift over his body. He’s worked out, that’s for sure, and he’s so damn tall, too. He crosses his arms over his chest and watches you smugly, like you’re checking him out and not assessing his skill level. You kind of are checking him out. The sharp angle of his jaw line probably doesn’t affect the power of his punch.

You break the moment of silence. And then you say, “Fuck yes.”

It takes a second, a second of getting on gloves and drinking water and shedding layers, and then another second of bouncing on your toes, circling each other, watching his smile, his eyes, in the dim glow of the moon in the windows.

And then he makes the first move.

He throws a punch.

“Too easy,” you say as you duck.

“Just getting warmed up.”

“Lucky for you,” you start, moving closer, telegraphing left, “I’m already warm.” You go right. Right hook, for the jaw - he blocks it, of course, and you go under, for his stomach. He doesn’t dodge that one.

“Thought you’d give me a little more than that,” he says, but he’s a little breathless so the effect doesn’t carry. You just smile, watching his shoulders. Broad shoulders. His hips move left, you duck right, it’s too easy. His punch goes too far. The momentum carries him, you hold those broad shoulders and knee into his ribcage.

He coughs, stumbling a little, and you feel a twinge of guilt. Oops.

And then it’s all movement.

He lunges forward and -

One, two - hook left, dodge it, he’s sweating, eyes focused - one, two, another left jab, an uppercut that lands. He’s spinning, bouncing, now you’re the one that’s coughing. No more guilt. He doesn’t draw blood, though, going weak on you. Of course he is.

Amused, you laugh, “Shit, Styles,” and square your shoulders, crack your neck, draw closer, hands up. His brows jump, and he looks just as amused as you are. Bounce, bounce, eye contact, a teasing glint in his eyes.

Here we go, you think, and now it’s your turn.

One-two-three-four, bang bang bang, every punch lands, not hard, go gentle, a knee to his stomach, also gentle, pull him down, elbow to his back, so gentle, don’t hurt him, look at those back muscles, he swears under his breath, arm behind his back, don’t pull, don’t hurt him, he’s on the floor, on his stomach, arm bent, your knee on the small of his back -

He breathes a laugh, craning to look at you over his shoulder. “Alright, then. Point proved.” You grin, releasing him and falling back onto your hands. “I’m not one to say I told you so…”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, turning onto his back. He puts his cheek against the mat, looking at you. He’s still smiling. You look at his dimples, his cheek, and you lean forward, off your hands. He holds your gaze, no surprise there, and you hold his.

His smile fades, and you watch his eyes flick down and back up. You’re panting, chest rising, falling - it’s so quiet. You creep forward. He swallows, you see his throat work. He’s still sweating. So are you, probably.

You lean over him, watch his eyes widen, trail your finger over his cheek. “I hope I didn’t bruise you,” you murmur. He’s breathing just as heavily as you are, and even though he looks like he’s about to faint, his voice is cocky as he asks, “Oh, is that why you’re touching me?”

Closer, closer, your necklace hangs in the space between the two of you. Even closer, and it rests on his chest. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “Are we about to fuck?” He rolls over, suddenly, doesn’t reply, pulls you with him, and he’s on top of you and he’s kissing you and it feels so good, tastes so good, you close your eyes and grin and pull him closer, closer.

Turns out the answer’s yes.

***

A rude awakening. So rude. Borderline disrespectful.

Everything hurts. You groan, rolling over.

The bell on the door chimes again, and your eyes snap open.

You bolt upright. “Fuck,” you hiss.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Harry mumbles, still half asleep.

Scrambling for clothes, you mutter, “Your dad’s here, idiot.”

“Oh,” Harry says, blinking awake. “Fuck.”

You hurry to grab clothes and get decent and run out the door without another word to Harry. It’s cold outside, and you’re only half dressed. You get your car running, pull out of the parking lot, and hope Des doesn’t see you.

When you’re home, you take a cold shower. Icy cold. Your head’s still pounding, but you manage to muddle through what happened last night. Regret seeps through you with the water, and you’re thankful for the heat in your apartment when you step out.

You have a session with Des in a few hours.

Should be fun. Awkward.

And it is, when you eventually get there. A little of both. Mostly awkward. Des doesn’t suspect anything. He must not have seen your car in the morning. You trade smirks and scowls and glares and grins with Harry throughout the morning, but not a word.

Not a single word.

***

Antsy.

Antsy, antsy, restless, wired.

And guilty.

Because you’re not antsy for a fight. You’re antsy for a chat. Or a fuck. Whatever. You’re expecting a few words to turn into a few kisses, and then a few more, and then another rude awakening. You can’t tell if you’re excited about that or already guilty.

So much guilt. Can never get away from the guilt.

You’re thinking about it the whole ride over, through empty streets and hour long red lights and mocking stop signs. It’s so quiet. You can’t get over how quiet the world is when your head is so ridiculously loud.

Through all that, you can’t come up with a single thing to start with.

You used to pull into the parking lot and come up with a nice snarky comment to start the evening out with. Just like that. You’d walk in and mull it over and decide it was perfect then tweak it just so right before saying it.

And you’d get a rush of satisfaction from his reply and his smirk and his dimples.

Not tonight. Tonight you think the whole way over and can’t think of a single thing to say. Nothing to start with, nothing to end with, nothing to tell him or yell at him or sob at him. Nothing. Zero, zilch, nada.

He’s working out when you get there. Shimmering in the moonlight with his shirt off, throwing punches at the punching bag and bouncing around and panting breaths. It comes to you, then, what to say, and you say it.

“Oh, how the turntables…”

He stops and stills the punching bag with his hand and turns to look at you. He doesn’t look particularly uncomfortable. Maybe a little unsure. Mostly smug. His eyes are the only things giving away his uncertainty.

“Didn’t think you’d show up,” he says.

“No faith in me, huh?”

He smiles. “None at all.” He takes off his gloves and stretches, flexing for you, and you let your eyes rake over him shamelessly. “Didn’t bring a book with me,” you muse, setting your bag down. “Then we’d really be, uh… swapped…”

“Shame.”

Your eyes lock. There’s a beat of silence, and you let it linger for a while. His eyes are so expressive. Green, so green. Even greener up close. “So are we gonna talk about it?” you ask after a second.

“Talk about what?”

You debate punching him. Hard. You could break his nose. Get a little blood gushing. Maybe he’d talk to you then. “It’s rude to answer a question with a question, Styles.” He leans against the wall. “Is it?”

“It’s a sign of weakness, actually.”

He raises a brow. “You think I’m the one at a disadvantage here?”

“Aren’t we both?”

“Do you regret it?”

You’re playing along now. “Do you?”

“Would you do it again?”

You hold his gaze, walk closer. “Isn’t that the same question?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. He grins.

And then he kisses you.

Dammit, you think through the euphoria, he somehow managed to win.

***

It’s not that you expected that it would happen again. It’s not like you were hoping for it to happen again, or even like you were dreading it would happen again. It was one of those hope for the best, prepare for the worst situations.

Three in the morning, and your watch buzzes against your wrist.

Groaning, you sit up and gather your clothes. You get dressed, slip out, and drive home. One icy cold shower later, you’re wishing you felt regret. You wish you were guilty, or upset, or embarrassed.

Instead, you picture those dimples and grin.

You ignore him when you go to the gym for your session with Des. You work out, get your heartrate up, push away all thoughts about Harry Styles, and leave. The ball is in his court, you decide, and you’re not one to steal. Or maybe you are. You’re just too stubborn at the moment.

It feels good to be rid of him, even if it’s just temporary. It takes a few days, a few days of you ignoring his more and more frequent glances, a few days of you leaving as soon as your session’s over, a few days of you parking around back so he can’t corner you out front where he reads.

Then he follows you. He does corner you, only at your car rather than at his tree. He’s leaned up against it when you walk out, and you sigh when you catch sight of him. A sigh of irritation. Because you’re annoyed. It’s not a sigh of relief, obviously, or a sigh of happiness.

“Waiting for me at my car?” you say, walking up to him. “I’m a little creeped out.”

Harry looks up at you, brows raised. “She speaks!”

You fiddle with your keys. “Yeah, she’s been known to, here and there.”

He bites his lip, looking at you thoughtfully. “You know, I don’t know where you live.”

“Wow, you managed to get even creepier.”

“I said I don’t know where you live,” he says, smiling a bit.

You open the door, lean against it. “I heard you.”

“I was gonna visit you. Bring flowers or summat.”

“Flowers!” you gasp. “A creep and a liar. How romantic.”

He smiles even more. “You didn’t show up for a while.”

“I’m glad you noticed.”

“I was getting worried.”

You cock a brow. “Is worried a synonym for horny now, or…?”

His smile curls into a smirk. “That too.”

You nod, mocking sympathy. “Right, right, you poor soul.” You clear your throat, sliding into the driver’s seat, and close the door as you turn the key in the ignition. “Well!” you exclaim, rolling down the window so he can hear you. “I’m gonna drive away now. Nice talking to you.”

He puts his palm on the door, leans against it, muscles flexing. “My mate’s coming into town,” he says. He’s looking at you. So intense. “Yeah?” you ask. “Are you into that?” His brows jump, teasingly, but then he’s shaking his head.

“Nah, I just… He’s a good lad, you know? And he needs a place to stay.”

“Your dad lives with you, Styles, and I don’t think he’d like to hear -”

“He’s not staying with us.”

You scoff slightly. “You think he’d wanna stay in my little -”

“No,” Harry interrupts, “he’s staying in a hotel.”

Your eyes narrow, wondering if you know where he’s going with this. You stay quiet.

“And, uh…” He breaks eye contact, which makes you suspicious, and looks out towards the gym behind your car. “I wanna make sure the place he’s staying is nice.” He looks back at you, just a hint of a smirk in his eyes.

“Styles,” you begin slowly, and then he clears his throat, cutting you off again, and leans back, off your car, standing up straight. He’s looking at the gym again. “I think you need to come with me to test out this hotel he’s staying at.”

You laugh. You laugh, throwing your head back, being dramatic about it, and say, “You did not just go through all that just to get me in a hotel room with you.” Harry meets your gaze, finally, and grins. “My back’s getting sore for all the wrong reasons.”

“Christ almighty, you absolute bastard.” You put on your seat belt, shaking your head with a huge smile on your face. “Fuck you, Styles,” you say, putting your foot on the pedal, “and call me when you figure out a date.”

***

Apparently, the date is a week later.

And a week later, it feels so nice to wake up on a bed. All the satisfaction of the night before and a perfectly comfortable bed to wake up in. You’re more content than you should be, and you have to hide your smile the next morning after round - four? Five? Whatever. The first of the morning. And last, apparently.

He’s pulling on his pants, fixing himself in the mirror, and you’re staring at him and thinking. Thinking about what to say, when to say it, how to say it, whether you’re a wimp for wanting to say it. “So we’re really not gonna talk about it, huh?” you finally say.

He hums a “Hm?” and meets your gaze in the mirror.

You glare. “Gonna make me spell it out?”

“Spell what out?”

“Again with the questions,” you mutter.

“Right, well, I wasn’t trying to be smart,” Harry starts, and you can’t help cutting in, “Are you ever?” He purses his lips at you and turns around. “Tell me.” You’re almost impressed, and then he adds, “Is that better?”

You breathe a sigh, clearing your throat and turning on the dramatics again. Sitting up, you sit on your calves and clutch the blanket to your chest. With your best puppy dog eyes, you gush, “What are we, Styles?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Mortal enemies,” he says under his breath, turning around again to put on his shirt. “Yeah?” you say. “All blood and guts?” He smirks at you in the mirror. “I think I felt your guts last night when -”

You laugh and cut him off. “Oh, alright.”

A second of silence, and he goes a little more serious. “I hope you know I don’t do relationships,” he says quietly. Your brows jump. “And I thought I was the dramatic one.” He sighs, turning around to face you. “I’m not being dramatic.”

“The hell you aren’t,” you say with a grin.

He frowns. “We’re not a thing.”

“Good,” you tell him. “I’d kill you.”

“You have to tell me if you ever get into a relationship,” he says.

You blink. “Huh?”

“We’re done if you start dating.”

You scoff a laugh. “Um? No shit?”

“And we can’t tell my dad.”

Shaking your head, you hold up a hand. “Hold on, back track. I’ll tell you if I ever start dating, and you tell me if you ever do.” He shrugs and replies, “That’s easy. I won’t date.” You frown. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You’re a prick,” you say, impulsively.

“Which is why I won’t date.”

“Some people are into that.”

“Are you?”

You bounce your eyebrows. “Clearly.”

“And yet you don’t wanna date me.”

“Fuck no.”

“Point proved.”

“Fuck you.”

He grins. “Fuck me yourself.”

You laugh, incredulously, and flop back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Alright. It’s off if either of us get into a relationship -” You hold up a finger when he starts to talk and push on, “And your dad can’t know.”

“I’m not paying for this hotel every time you get horny.”

You sit up and scoff, “Every time I get -”

“Every time we want to spend quality time together,” he amends, a sweet smile on his face. You grin and lay back again. “My apartment’s small,” you say. “But there’s a bed.” Harry hums, sitting on the bed, and you turn your head to watch him pull on his shoes.

“Anywhere that’s not the gym floor is fine with me.”

“Ooh, you’ll get to see where I live,” you say. “Should I be scared?”

“For your bed, maybe.”

You snicker and mutter, “You’re gross.”

“So are you.”

“A match made in heaven.”

Harry makes a noise of disagreement. “Hell.”

You smile, reaching over to fiddle with his shirt. “Purgatory.”

“You’re awful.”

“And you’re gross,” you reply with a shrug.

You can see him biting back a smile as he stands up. “Right. And - nobody can know.”

“Yeah, yeah, we won’t tell your dad.”

“No, I mean - other people, too.”

You raise a brow. “Who cares?”

He frowns, turning away to grab his coat. “They might get the wrong idea.”

You breathe a laugh and sit up, stretching a bit. “Yeah? And what’s the right idea?”

“Anything but whatever the hell’s happening here.”

“Wow, I’m offended.”

“Should be. Fuck you.”

Childishly, you stick your tongue out at him. “Fuck me yours-”

“And now we’re just going in circles,” Harry interrupts. He grabs his coat, and you realize he’s fully dressed, and you’re a bit startled. “Don’t be late for the gym,” he tells you. “My dad’ll get suspicious.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, well, heaven forbid your dad -”

“Just don’t be late.”

“Interrupt me one more time, Styles, I -”

He smirks, opens the door, and leaves.

You groan and fall back onto the bed again, then sigh happily.

This situation with Harry, you think, is absolutely terrible.

***

He is so cute.

Just the most adorable.

All smiles and big green eyes and soft curls you want to run your hands through.

“I think I love you,” you murmur drunkenly, and he laughs.

He’s got a nice laugh. Sounds like music. “Think I feel the same.”

You lean into him, pressing kisses against the column of his throat. “I really think I love you, Harry,” you whisper, and he clears his throat, going a bit stiff. “Jack,” he says. “It’s Jack.”

“Oh,” you giggle. You look up at him. “Your eyes are green,” you tell him.

He smiles again, and he doesn’t have dimples. “That they are,” he says.

You’re at some bar. Two weeks after the hotel meet up. Harry’s been to your apartment about a million times, but luckily, the bed’s still in one piece. Here, there’s music going, and you have a few drinks on the table in front of you.

A few guys bought you drinks. Jack did. He was nice about it, though. He’s such a gentleman. He offered to buy you food, brought you to a table and talked with you while you ate. He pulled the chair out for you.

He nudges at your cheek, pressing his lips to your skin. It’s all wrong. But he’s a gentleman, and boy, are his eyes green. You sway a little to the music playing. He kisses you more. It feels nice.

You turn so your back is to his chest, and he stops with the kissing. He holds your waist, not too low, so respectful. What a gentleman. With those green, green eyes. “I wanna make you feel good,” he whispers in your ear.

“Yeah?” you say, giggling a little.

He kisses your throat, so lightly, so nicely. “I wanna take you home.”

You pout at that and turn around, wiggling your hand at him. “Oh, Jack,” you say, “I’m married!” He frowns, pulling away a little bit. “What?” You show him the ring on your finger, only half processing that it’s on your middle finger and you’re essentially flipping him off.

Your gaze focuses. “Oh,” you say, outloud, lowering your hand and inspecting the ring. It’s Harry’s, you realize. He left it in your room last week, and you wore it so you wouldn’t forget to give it to him the next time you saw him. But you forgot.

“I forgot,” you murmur.

“You forgot you’re married?” Jack scoffs incredulously.

“No!” you exclaim, looking up. “No, no, I’m not - I’m not married. Not at all.”

He relaxes, but he still looks skeptical.

“I just - it’s complicated.”

“I didn’t know,” he says, backing away. “I don’t want to get in the middle of anything.”

“You wouldn’t be,” you say softly.

He laughs awkwardly. “Um… Yeah, well, it seems like I would be.”

You’re not sure what to say, and eventually settle on a weak, “I’m sorry.”

“Right.” He clears his throat. “Me too. Well, it was nice… it was nice meeting you.”

You look up, shaking your head. “Wait, you don’t have to…”

“I think I should,” he says. “Yeah, so - bye, I guess.”

“Bye,” you say softly. “Bye, bye…”

***

What a headache. So much pain.

You groan, rolling over onto your stomach, and look at the clock.

“Shit.”

You’re late. You’re so, so late. Des will be pissed. You haven’t been late for a session in almost two years. You scramble out of bed, downing a painkiller and stumbling around your apartment until you’re changed and about ready to go.

The medicine kicks in on the way, and you’re almost sentient by the time you get to the gym. Harry gives you a weird look on the way, and a bit of a memory flashes through your head. Vaguely, you worry about having confessed your love to him.

You have a session though, and you already have enough on your plate dealing with an angry Des, so you force it out of your head. Des is upset. He gets over it. You throw punches and get your feelings out and set a ring on your finger to the side. You’re not sure how it got there, but it looks like Harry’s. Shit, you think, maybe there really was a declaration of love.

He’s reading against his tree, and you ambush him on the way out. “What did I say last night?” you ask, a bit breathlessly. He looks surprised and replies, “What do you mean?” You sit down next to him, getting your breath back.

“Be honest,” you say.

A smile tugs the corner of his lips. “Aren’t I always?”

“Never. But I didn’t - you’re not -” You huff. “Are we okay?”

The smile drops, and so does your heart. He looks down. Oh, no, you think miserably. You really did. You said you loved him, drunkenly, and ruined your entire relationship. Friendship. Situationship. You’re getting another headache just thinking about it.

“Well, actually… I was thinking… maybe we should take a break,” Harry says quietly.

Your heart drops even further, and you blurt, “I didn’t mean it.”

His brows furrow. He looks up again. “What?”

“I don’t love you.”

Harry blinks, dramatically, and actually laughs. “What?” he repeats.

“What I said last night. I didn’t mean it. I was drunk.”

His brows go down again. “I didn’t… I didn’t see you last night.”

You hold up the ring. “Are you sure?”

He grabs it from you, smiling a bit. “Yeah. Positive. I’ve been looking for this for about three days.” You bite your lip. “Oh,” you say. He looks at you, confused yet again. “If not me,” he says slowly, “who were you with?”

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. “I don’t remember.”

“You slept with somebody?”

“No. I woke up alone. Just a - an awful headache.”

He clears his throat, looking away. “Right, right. Well, you can. Obviously. I don’t - I don’t care. At all. But I was thinking…” He looks down at the ring, at his lap, frowning. “I think we should lay off it a bit.”

“Asking for some space?” you ask, and you’re half joking, but your voice is a little weak.

He looks up. Softly, he says, “Yeah.”

“Wow,” you laugh. “You’re breaking up with me and we’re not even together.”

“I’m not breaking up with you,” he says quickly. Too quickly. His face tinges red, just a bit, and his gaze falls to the ring. “I think… I think we should have another rule. We can only see each other once a week.”

You whistle lowly. “Wow,” you say again.

“Stop with the wows,” Harry mutters. “I get it. You’re impressed.”

“It’s hard not to be.”

“Right, yeah. I’m very impressive.” He’s still looking down. There’s a beat of silence.

“Alright!” you say after a minute. “Alright, well, I’ll see you around, then. I’ll get a calendar.” You stand up, dusting nonexistent grass from your legs. “I’ll doodle your name around each week. What do you say, Fridays? Wednesdays? When’re we doing this, huh?”

“I don’t know. Whenever.”

“Geez, try not to sound so excited.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Alright!” you repeat. “Goodbye.”

You stand there for half a second, expecting something, anything, and then walk off.

***

He’s not at the gym.

Midnight, a little after, and he’s not at the gym. The lights are off. Ridiculously, you’re not really sure what to do. You give a few half hearted punches, and then leave, feeling like an absolute idiot.

He ignores you the next day during your session at the gym. He works out, parading his toned muscles around the gym and grinning at the instructor to flaunt his dimples. Then he walks out, so he’s gone by the time you’re done with Des.

A week, and he hasn’t said a word. The worst part is that you don’t even know what you did wrong. He’s just scared, you tell yourself. He’d been spending almost every night at your apartment. He’ll come crawling back. He’ll kiss you and tell you he loves you and then you’ll date and everything will be happily ever after.

It’s all lies, of course, because you don’t even know if you’d want a relationship, if you’re ready for that, if you could stand that with him, if you love him - but it’s kind of nice to fantasize about.

You go to a fight one night. You watch. You watch the money, the fighting, watch the happy, painful, bliss on the winners’ faces and hide in the crowd. People recognize you, ask when you’re going, and you say… You say you’re not.

You can’t.

Maybe tomorrow, you say.

But you don’t come the next day. You stare at your ceiling, hot, and watch the fan. Around and around it goes, and you don’t move. You think. You think, and sweat, and eventually get up and take a cold shower.

The next morning, Des isn’t in the back room. You ask the receptionist where he is, and she shrugs. Tells you she has no idea - call him. So you do. You call, and he sounds upset, and he says to come upstairs.

You’ve never been upstairs.

You know where the steps are, though, and you walk up and into the hallway and see Des leaned against a door. “What’s going on?” you ask immediately. “Are you okay?” Des nods, sighing heavily. “I’m fine, but Harry’s - he’s got into a fight.”

You almost laugh. “A fight?”

“Yeah, he…” He sighs again. “A client came in here earlier, hours ago. He was going on about some fight he’d gone to last night, talking about what happened, about… well, about you.” Your eyes widen. “What?”

“Said you wouldn’t fight,” Des goes on quietly. “Started going on about how you can’t… He said you can’t -” He shakes his head. “This is him, mind you, he said not only can you not fight, but you’re a wimp about it, too.”

You can only gape.

“I was gonna kick him out, I was, but Harry… Er - well, they started shoving each other, bloody idiots, and then there were punches and we pulled them apart but they still… Well, he’s got a bit of a shiner.”

“But he’s okay?”

“He’s fine. Mostly.” He eyes you up, looking curious. “Haven’t broken his heart yet, have you?” This time you do laugh. “Sorry?” you ask, and Des smiles a bit. “Boy’s been looney about you for ages, you know. Since the second you stepped in here.”

“I…” You’re not sure what to say. “Um… Why… why are you telling me this now?” you ask, and Des grins. “Wanted to see how guilty you’d be.” You frown, confused, and echo, “Guilty?” Des nods, looking almost smug. “Most people are guilty when their lie’s found out. They’re even guiltier when they realize the old man they’ve been lying to has known since the start.”

“We’re not… lying to you…” It sounds even lamer out loud than in your head.

Des hums. “Course you’re not.” He pats you on the back and clears his throat, turning away. “I’m going out, now. It’ll be for a while. Don’t hurt him anymore, thanks.” He disappears down the steps, and you squeeze your eyes shut. Guilty, yes, and embarrassed.

Whoops.

You open the door and see Harry on the bed, an ice pack on his face.

“You look like shit,” you say.

“So do you,” he replies without looking at you. “At least I have an excuse.”

“Ooh, wasn’t expecting that one,” you tell him, walking closer. “None of the ‘you should see the other guy,’ huh?” He turns to glare at you, and you grimace at the black and blue around his eye. “Ouch,” you murmur.

“Yeah.”

“I’m supposed to be the one getting beat up,” you say softly, and you’re pushing a curl out of his face before you can stop yourself. “You’re too pretty to get your face smashed in.” Harry rolls his eyes and turns away again.

You lean down, impulsively - you’re not thinking today, apparently - and start to kiss his hand, resting on his stomach. He winces, pulling away, and you see his knuckles are bruised. “That hurts,” he says.

“Sorry, sorry,” you say, and go for his cheek -

He hisses your name and bites out, “That hurts too.”

“Well, Christ, Styles,” you scoff, “where doesn’t it hurt?”

He glances at you, a flicker in those green eyes, and points to his temple. “There’s not too bad,” he mumbles. You have to bite back a grin. “Alright,” you say, and you press your lips to his skin. His eyes flutter shut.

“And… and here’s not awful.” He points to his jaw almost grudgingly, and a bit of a laugh slips out of your lips as you pepper a kiss across his jaw, over his chin, and then pull away. He opens his eyes at the loss of contact, pouting a bit.

“How ‘bout here,” he whispers, and he points to his lips.

“You’re a bastard,” you whisper back, and then you kiss him.

Suddenly he’s better, because he’s smiling and reaching up behind your neck to gently pull you closer. Then he’s sitting up, onto his elbow, his hand nudging you as if he wants you to get on top of him.

“Thought everything hurt,” you murmur, complying anyway.

Harry shrugs, smiling more, and says,“The medicine just set in.”

“I hate you,” you tell him.

He sighs, sounding happy, and kisses you deeper. “The feeling,” he says, “is mutual.”

***

His name is Charlie. The bartender. It says it right on his little gold name tag, which blinds you every few seconds when the light hits it just right. He’s pretty nice. You’re getting drinks for yourself and for Harry, who’s supposed to meet you in a few minutes. He’ll probably be late.

“Come here often?” Charlie asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You raise a brow. “Yeah. Yet somehow I’m still surprised at how unoriginal you are.”

Charlie laughs, sliding your drink across the counter and getting started on Harry’s. “Oh, no, no, I just meant… I feel like I’ve seen you around.” You give a neutral hum in reply, swirling the ice in your drink around.

And then you hear your name called from behind you, and you feel yourself smile as you turn around and see Harry walking in, waving at you. He’s not late. How nice. “Hey, you’re with Harry?” Charlie asks, sounding surprised, and your smile drops to a frown as you remember he’s still there.

“Yup.”

“Wow,” Charlie says under his breath, his back to you as he mixes Harry’s drink, “he sure goes through dates fast…” Your brows jump. “Excuse me?” Charlie turns around. He looks stunned. Slowly, he hands the drink to you. “Um… Nothing. Sorry.”

“Did you see him here with someone else?” you ask, regretting it immediately.

“Yeah, just last week,” Charlie replies. He makes a face. “They were all over each other.” And from the next expression that floods his features, he, too, regrets his words immediately after they leave his lips. “But, uh - that’s not my business!” he says hurriedly. “That has nothing to do with me. Okay! Well, enjoy your drinks.”

He walks away just as Harry comes up behind you.

“Well, hello,” he says softly, lips feathering against your ear.

“Hey,” you say, handing him his drink.

Your tone is a bit sharp, and Harry pulls away a bit. “Thanks,” he says. “Er… you alright?”

“I’m fine. So is, uh, Charlie here.” You point at Charlie’s receding figure.

“Yeah?” Harry says, an amused smile curving his mouth as he takes a sip of his drink.

You clear your throat, fiddling with your glass. “We were just talking about you.”

His smirk is so handsome. And irritating. Right on the line between the choices of kiss him and smack him. “Oh?” he says. “All good things, I hope?” You shrug, letting your gaze drift around the room. “Not necessarily. He, uh… he said you came here last week with someone else.”

The smirk disappears. He looks down, coughs slightly. “Said that, did he?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, patting him on the chest. “Yeah, yeah he did say that. And now, I’m saying that, uh… that you’re drinking alone. I’ll see you around, Styles.” You walk away, just the slightest bit of anger seeping through your skin.

***

Antsy. Antsy, antsy, antsy.

The fan is spinning.

That damn fan.

You can’t look at it anymore. You roll out of bed, put on some clothes. No sweatshirt, no pants, just shorts and an athletic top. It is freezing fucking cold outside, you realize with a grimace, which isn’t new information but somehow still surprises you.

Soon you’re running, slowly, jogging, and already you feel better.

Really, you shouldn’t be upset. That’s what keeps spinning around your head. You shouldn’t be upset. You should’ve expected this. You did expect this. Obviously he was sleeping with other people. He’d been honest about it from the start.

Regret, anger, misery. Turn it into money. A little cash, a little pain, a little gain. You’re filled with regret as soon as you step inside. People notice you and look startled, and then expectant. They seem to close in on you.

You’ll fight tonight, right? Give it a good show? There’s a new kid in town, better show ‘em who’s boss - don’t lose your throne, rookie - c’mon, prove Des doesn’t train losers - does he? Does he? Are you? A loser? Gone soft, have you? Are you ready? Ready to go?

And brrrring, you’re off.

It feels so good. You’re so numb it doesn’t even hurt. It’ll probably hurt later, though, and you’ll probably regret it, but not now. Now you’re just happy, grinning through the blood, probably looking psychotic.

It’s unmatched, this adrenaline rush. Can’t get it anywhere else.

Well, maybe -

Bang. Right to the nose. Damn, that hurts, but losing hurts more - one, two, three, around the back, pull, pull, make it hurt, like they hurt you, like he hurt you, fuck it hurts so bad, and…

And we have a winner!

Outside, it is so, so cold.

***

Cleaning yourself up is therapeutic.

It doesn’t happen until the next morning, but it’s pleasant.

You miss your session with Des.

***

You spend a lot of time at the park. At the library. Anywhere but your apartment, where he can find you. You ignore his calls. You change his ringtone so you can bop along to the song while you let it ring out.

When you go to the gym at one in the morning, about a week later, you actually look a little worse than you first did. Less bloody, less fresh, less swelling but more black and blue around your eye and cheek.

Harry bolts up when he sees you. He starts to step forward, then hesitates. He hovers by the alcove where he reads, glowing like an angel from the light behind him. He looks so nervous.

“You look awful,” he says softly.

You clear your throat. “Thanks.”

“I was worried. We were both worried.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Harry sets his book down. The nervousness fades away, and he leans against the wall next to him, leveling your gaze as he crosses his arms across his chest.

“You fought again,” he says.

“I did.”

“Because of me?”

You look at him, sensing a shift in the air. “What am I supposed to say?”

“The truth.”

“You’ve got quite the head if you expect me to say yes.”

“And you’ve got quite the nerve if you expect me to believe no.”

“You just think the sun revolves around you, don’t you, Styles?” you ask with a scowl.

“Who’s to say it doesn’t?”

“Christ,” you mutter. You huff a sigh, breaking eye contact and turning away.

He lets the quiet loom for a moment, probably basking in it, and then says, “You’re upset about the bar, aren’t you.” He doesn’t even phrase it like a question. “I’m not upset,” you reply under your breath. “I’m not even surprised.”

“Good.”

“Yeah?” you say tersely, meeting his eyes again. “You’re pleased by that?”

He shrugs. “Yeah. You know why?” Finally, a bit of venom creeps into his words. Part of you is relieved to hear some sort of feeling in what he’s saying. “Because I’m allowed to do that, to go on a date. This isn’t a relationship. I can fuck other people, you can fuck whoever the hell you want.”

“Have you?”

Harry frowns some more. “I just told you I did.”

“Before that.”

He opens his mouth - and then closes it. “Have you?”

You can’t help but smirk a little bit. “No.”

“Well, you could’ve. You can. It’s not a rule.”

“Maybe it should be.”

Your words hang in the air for a second, and you can see Harry turning them over in his head. His eyes bounce between yours, mouth set in a hard line. “We’re not dating,” he says lowly. “I hope you get that. We’re not together.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I don’t date.”

“Except for the one last week.”

His jaw clenches, and he turns away from you. “That doesn’t count.”

“How come?”

“Because -” He huffs a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Christ. I don’t know.”

“Wrong answer, Styles.”

“I don’t know,” he repeats irritatedly.

“Er,” you say, imitating a buzzer. “Still wrong.”

“Fine,” he practically growls, turning on you. “Because I was only getting over you.”

You smile coolly, ignoring your racing heartbeat. “Ding, ding, ding.”

Harry shakes his head, turning away again. “I can’t do this.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes,” he sighs, “I do.”

You raise a brow. “And, uh, Harry,” you say, “why’s that?”

He glances at you. A million different emotions flash across his face, echoing in his eyes, in your heart. And then, suddenly, his features soften. “You know why,” he murmurs, and your brows jump.

You blink at him, startled. “What?”

“Yeah,” Harry says, biting his lip as he takes a small step towards you. “You know why.”

You shake your head, backing up slightly. “I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“C’mon,” he murmurs, closing the distance. “Gonna make me say it? Gonna make me spell it out?” You watch him, hold his gaze, look into his eyes, and your breath catches in your throat as you start to understand.

“Yeah,” you tell him a bit breathlessly. “Yeah, I’m gonna make you spell it out.”

“I,” he starts, and now you’re taking a half step towards him, “l… i… k… e… y… o… u…”

You can’t help the smile that breaks across your face. “You’re a good speller.”

“A lot,” he adds.

“And now, uh… Now put it all together for me,” you say, milking it.

“I like you,” he whispers, so close now. “I like you a lot.”

“I like you, too,” you admit.

He traces his finger against your cheek, so, so gently. Your eyes close at the contact.

“You’ll break my heart,” he says, leaning in.

“Not if -” You’re having trouble speaking. “Not if you don’t let me.”

He’s speaking almost against your lips now. “As if I’ll have any say in the matter.”

You open your eyes, smiling just barely. “I’ll be nice.”

“You could never.”

His eyes are so, so green. “You’d be surprised.”

His finger slides under your chin and he gently presses up. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Your eyelids flutter shut. “I’m anything but predictable,” you whisper.

He doesn’t reply, just kisses you, and you smile against his lips.

Maybe things will work out after all.

***

la fin 💜

i wrote this FAST haha like in a day or two but lemme tell you i've never felt this way about anything else i've written... like obvi i don't post things i hate slkdfj but like i LOVE this fic. not to sound narcissistic lmao but i'm so in love w this fic it's insane. that being said some feedback would literally make my entire day!!! week!!! life!!!!

anyway thank you for reading ily <3

masterlist | ask

[from-a-reckless-writer]

They were fighting.

In the DEO.

Again.

“Moms fighting again?” Nia casually leans on the desk next to Brainy, who is currently hunched over some screen. 

“It appears so,” He answers, not really paying attention. In the distance you can hear yelling and the tell-tale woosh of a cape. 

Nia had removed her comms the moment Supergirl spotted Lena Luthor on the field. She’s pretty sure half of the agents did the same. They all knew what was coming. 

And well, if the approaching bickering were any indication... 

“I had it covered!”

“Yes, because an on-coming missile with your name on it was you having it covered, clearly.”

“I saved ten lives today, Supergirl. Jealous you only saved three?”

“It isn’t about that and you know it.”

Nia sees Alex stride in, obviously going in for an attempt to pacify Supergirl. 

And also because it was partly Alex’s idea to send Lena with the Alpha team, in her defense Lena was the only person she could trust enough not to tamper with the device.

“Come on, Supergirl, Lena is more than capable in the field and she volunteered. She saved the day, you kno—”

“Butt out of this, Alex.” Supergirl grits out, too busy staring Lena down to even spare her sister a glance. 

“Sorry?” Alex scoffs, shocked at how easy she was brushed aside. She was tempted to pull rank and use the ‘I’m the Director, here.’ card, if she was being honest.

“No, Alex is right,” Lena points out, “I did save the day. Time for you to acknowledge that the both of us are just as capable as the other. And if saving the day means getting in the line of fire, then so be it.”

“This isn’t about you being incapable-”

“Then tell me what exactly is it about?”

Supergirl licks her lips, swallows and Lena braces herself for another retort but instead she fixes her with a stare that only Supergirl reserves for the bad guys and coolly states, “You are not to go out in the field and that’s final.”

She turns to walk out but Lena’s temper just skyrocketed tenfold. 

“Wow. You did not just say that to my face.” There was something in the way that Lena Luthor���s voice dropped that made Supergirl turn around. DEO agents are openly watching on now, not even bothering at subtlety anymore. The two women fighting in front of the whole agency certainly haven’t tried subtle at all. 

“Let’s make something clear here, Supergirl,” Lena fumed,  “This is my life and I get to call the shots. You don’t get a say in what I decide to do or not to do. Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I don’t have a say? Rao, sorry my mistake! Forgive me for thinking that my sharing a last name with you means a cent to you as much as it does to me. You’re right, who the hell am I anyway? Sorry for wanting to keep you alive.”

Supergirl is breathing heavily two inches away from Lena’s face. Heat and anger rolling off the both of them in waves. They’re in a world of their own now. A world in which Lena is having trouble deciding on whether she should scream some more or pull Supergirl’s lips into her own. 

“Im sorry- Last name?” 

The voice wakes them to reality. A reality that makes both of them sober up and realize they’re in the middle of a very exposed DEO headquarters; makes them aware of the collective gasp that has just happened. 

Supergirl backs away. 

“Please, fucking tell me that I heard you wrong. Or I swear to God-”

Alex heads straight for Supergirl and Lena quickly realizes the implications of what Supergirl had just said. She essentially confirmed to the entire place that they’re— 

“Alex, I can—”

“Yes or no, are you or are you not married?”

So, this is how Alex Danvers makes criminals confess. Lena had never seen Supergirl cower before, but by the looks of it, if Lena had been the one in the hero’s boots she’d also be shaking. 

“Yes.”

Oh, no. 

“Alex, listen,” Lena starts and Supergirl looks at her—no, not Supergirl, Kara—Kara looks at her and Lena sends her a reassuring gaze that screams, ‘I’m with you.’

In that instant it must’ve looked like a switch had been flipped. From Lena attacking Kara to Lena defending Kara in a split second. 

“Listen, we were going to tell you. It isn’t like what you think—“

“Oh, no no,” Alex quickly dismisses Lena, “I’m not going to listen to you. This is between me and you,” Alex hissed not even looking at her, directly glaring at Supergirl instead. 

“Alex, just—” Lena tries but she does the mistake of moving her shoulder in an attempt to put an arm on Alex and she cuts off with a, “Fuck.”

The Danvers sisters look up at her yelp of pain, concern flickering through their faces. Supergirl swiftly speeding to her side, and the shoulder wound she was so trying so hard to keep Kara from seeing, is now out in the open, bleeding profusely. 

“You’re hurt.”

“Fuck,” Lena says again as she tries to take in a breath, pain shooting down her entire right side. 

“Take her to the Med Bay,” Alex orders, eyes briefly tracing Lena’s shoulder before turning to Supergirl again, “If you think this discussion is over, you’re sorely mistaken. You and I have a lot to talk about. And I fucking mean it.”

Lena watches as Supergirl swallows in fear at the sight of the DEO director walking out. 

“Everybody, back to work! Show’s over, morons!”

As if somebody had hit the play button, a buzz resumes almost exaggeratedly; DEO agents immediately flailing to get back to work, embarrassed at being called out so blatantly. 

Lena tunes back in to Kara, “C’mon, hold on to me,” she mumbles, quickly bending down to put an arm around Lena’s knees and pulls her to a bridal carry. 

She doesn’t point out that it’s her shoulder that was injured, not her legs; doesn’t point out that she can walk absolutely fine. Lena can clearly see how Supergirl needs to be as close to her as possible right now. 

So, she clings tightly and presses harder back against her chest.

*** 

Lena’s mind is running a mile a minute right now, she needs to know what’s going in her wife’s mind and she needs a plan on how the both of them are going to do damage control. 

Kara lays her down softly on a Med bed and without a word Lena strips herself off. 

Both of them silent as Kara gets supplies on a nearby table. She sits behind Lena and cleans the wound wordlessly. She’s patched Nia up in secret, way too many times, to know how many stitches Lena needs.

“I’m still mad at you.”

Are the first words that Kara utters.

“Good. I’m still mad at you too.”

She hears Kara sigh and she doesn’t need to turn around to know that Kara’s face is scrunched up in a pout and a crinkle. 

“But...that doesn’t mean I won’t protect you against Alex.”

“I don’t need protection from Alex.”

“Really?”

“Okay, fine she scared me a bit.”

Before Lena can reply she hisses in pain and Kara brings her lips near the wound and “Sorry,” she whispers. 

“We have to talk about this don’t we?” Kara sighs out, finally addressing the elephant in the room.

“Yes, darling, we do.”

“We also have to reach a compromise about this, don’t we?”

“Yeah, Kara, yeah we do.”

Lena hears another sigh and she can guess what Kara would say next.

“Just so you know, I hate this. I hate this very much. If I could have my way, we’re not having this discussion and you’re staying put and staying safe and not running off to danger. Hell if I can have it my way you won’t even be stepping inside the DEO. But...I can’t have my way can’t I?”

“No, darling, I’m sorry.”

Kara sounds so helpless and Lena just wants to make all the complications in their relationship go away. But that’s not how real life relationships work. Relationships are hard and messy and work. God, they are so much work, but being with Kara is worth all the work in the world. They’ve come a long, long way for this. 

If this had happened two years ago, the both of them would not even think about compromise. Kara would just push through with what she believes is the best way to keep Lena safe and would have insisted on keeping Lena locked in a safe house somewhere. And she guesses past Lena wouldn’t even consider the merits of communication with Kara, either.

“I just want you safe.”

“I know.”

“Never want to see you hurt.”

“I know, baby. But Kara you can’t always keep me safe, do you understand that?” Lena says carefully, she wishes she could turn around right now and cup Kara’s face.

“I know it’s hard for you, but this is what the both of us signed up for. Do you think I’m happy whenever you fly off to God knows where, when I see getting shot at in the news, when you leave in the middle of the night? I’m just as scared as you are, Kara.”

But that’s the price the both of them have to pay for falling in love when one is a super hero and the other is a world saving genius.

Kara bandages her neatly and Lena turns around to face her, moving a bit up in the bed and pulls gently at Kara’s wrist to join her.

“I know,” Kara breathes into Lena’s hair as she positions herself,  “I’m sorry. For fighting, for yelling, for...accidentally telling everyone that we’re married.”

Lena tries not to laugh at how Kara pouts at the last one. 

“Forgiven already. I’m sorry too.”

“I love you, you know that?”

She feels more that hears as she fits herself underneath Kara’s chin, tucked tight beside her. 

“I love you too, so, so much. So much that I agreed to a secret wedding,” Lena tells her, “And as much as I would love to continue our little heart to heart, I really think you should go to your sister now.”

“Nooo, Lena noo,” Kara groans out, “Come on, we can just stay here and cuddle and I can kiss your shoulder better and maybe you can give me a kiss too and I don’t have to talk to Alex.”

“Oh, but you do.”

“Have I mentioned I also hate when you’re right?”

“Once or twice.”

“Mmph. Fine. But half an hour of cuddles first and then I go talk to Alex, deal?” 

“Deal.” 

Lena agrees, greedy for Kara’s warmth and also thinking that Alex certainly needs more than half an hour to cool off. Kara certainly needs more than that to think about the words she’s going to tell her sister. She’ll probably die by the end of their conversation but at least she died knowing that the whole world knows Lena Luthor is her wife, right?

***

“Alex, I know you’re mad-”

“Oh, I’m not mad, I’m livid, Kara. Livid.”

Maybe it was a bad idea to talk to Alex in an empty DEO training room where her sister could easily turn on red sunlamps and deck her for keeping things secret.

“What, did it not occur to that, oh I don’t know? ‘Oh I’m having a wedding maybe I should text my sister an update? Leave her a note maybe? Dear Alex I’m getting married today!’” Alex roars and Kara flinches. Rao how could she be this stupid?

“Anything would have been fucking nice, than to hear about it in the middle of a heated fight. Tell me, if you didn’t slip up just now were you even going to tell me?” Alex tries to coat the words in anger but she doesn’t miss the way it wavers on fear and insecurity.

“Rao, yes of course I was going to Alex! I- we-” Kara tries.

“Save it.”

“Alex please,” She begs her to listen as she steps in front of her and reaches to hold Alex’s hands.

“When?” Alex snarls and Kara gulps because her sister definitely would not like the answer.

“Remember that time that Lena and I broke up? Then we ran to each other in the rain, made up? And then two weeks later she got assassinated by those CADMUS wanna-be’s and we had to use the Fortress’s tech to track her down?”

Alex remembers that one so clearly. It was funny at the time, how Jess had caught them making out in the middle of an ‘interview’. How Kara was so happy that she won Lena back.

“Yes and?” Alex quips, eager to know the answer.

“And well, remember how I asked to have some time alone with Lena once we rescued her? And made all of you guys leave?” Kara croaks out, fear apparent and Alex just stares at her clearly impatient at how Kara rambles.

“Well, I uh-kinda suggested we get married on the spot because I didn’t want to spend another day not being married to her when people want to kill both of us, every day.”

Alex lets out a heavy, shakes her head and pinches the bridge of her nose. 

“You know this is the part where I say, ‘Not even surprised.’” She states dryly, “Of fucking course you’re the kind of people who would pull this kind of shit.”

 Kara tries to get a word in but, “You fucking owe me a wedding and Mom and J’onn and Alura-”

“Oh my god! Kara! Your Mom deserves to see the daughter she whisked off to another planet, get married! You fucking owe Clark a wedding-”

“Actually…” Kara starts off sheepishly, knowing full well Alex will explode from what she’s about to say.

“Oh for fuck’s sake! Clark knows doesn’t he?!”

Kara flinches again. Good thing her superhearing is dampened here. 

“Well, uh,” Kara wrings her fingers when she realizes there are no glasses to fiddle with.

“Lena said she wanted a Kryptonian wedding so we had Kelex call Kal and uhm he officiated…”

Alex doesn’t say anything to that, just clenches and unclenches fists at her side. 

“I’m sorry!! Okay! I was going to tell you immediately but we kinda got carried away sneaking around and then it just completely slipped my mind because you guys keep pointing out how we’re an old married couple anyway! And and and—“ Kara is grasping for words, anything just to make this all better. 

“Damn it, I messed up haven’t I?” She whispers, realizing  now that the only thing to make this better would be them admitting their mistake and going for amends. 

“Yeah, you did, Kara.”

Kara feels shame course through her.

“I am so mad at you right now for denying me the privilege of seeing you walk down the aisle.  You know I don’t even want that, I just wanted to see you have your dreams come true and see you have what I have with Kelly, god damn it Kara, I love you and I wanted to be there.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I hate your pout. I hate your stupid pouty face. Your billionaire wife better pay for a grand wedding for all of us.”

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

“Mom’s not going to let you down easy though.”

Her sister doesn’t really need to point out the obvious.

“I know. Could you maybe be the-”

“Nuh-uh. No. You tell her yourself or have Lena tell her. I’m not doing that shit for you.”

“Fine.”

Kara will take what she can get. 

“I love you, Alex.” She breathes in relief when she sees Alex affectionately roll her eyes at her.

“I love you too, you stupid alien.”

***

“It’s official then? We guys get to call you Moms now?”

Lena never really expected that to be the first words Nia says to her when she enters the Med Bay.

“Yes, Nia. And also, yes, you’re a bridesmaid,” She answers immediately knowing that Nia was going to ask.

Nia lights up and Lena shakes her head at how similar she and Kara beams. 

Yeah, ‘Moms’ really is a fitting term.

“Alex making you do another wedding huh?”

“Yes, she is.”

Nia snorts, “You say that as if you don’t want the world to know Kara Danvers is wholly and solely yours.”

Well, she isn’t wrong, not that Lena is ever going to admit that though.

“Can I please plan your wedding? I have prophetic dreams. I can totally tell you what would look perfect on that day oh, oh, oh! I can even tell you if it’s going to rain, if you want an outdoor wedding that is. Oooh, maybe I could even see who’d catch your bouquet— “

“Nia, slow down,” Lena mutters before Nia plans out the whole wedding then and there.

“Kara and I will talk about it, but I think she’ll agree, you don’t really need to convince us.”

“Yes-yeah uh right sorry, you should definitely do that. Sorry it’s just I’ve been shipping you and oh my this is so exciting!” 

Trust Nia to say ship is now endgame in regards to their marriage.

Nia jabbers on as Kara walks in and gives the both of them a big grin, Alex trailing behind her. 

“I guess, congratulations are in order, Danvers.” Alex rolls her eyes and it takes Lena a moment to realize that she was referring to her.

She tries to calm down the happy flutter in her heart and the emotions bubbling out of her as she utters a weak, “Th-thank you, Alex.”

“Actually, Luthor-Danvers, we hyphenated,” Kara clarifies, which really doesn’t help the happy flutter at all, just adds to it. 

Alex just sighs and mumbles an ‘Of course you did.’

Before walking towards the bed and surprising Lena with a tight embrace.

“You do know, now you have two Danvers worrying for you every time you walk out in the field now, right?”

 And Lena just laughs. Because for the first time in forever she’s got people genuinely wanting her to exist. To the point that they’d do anything to keep her safe. 

She’s got family now and if it means overprotective Kryptonians and fierce blaster wielding older sisters, she really wouldn’t have it any other way. 

***

They’re fighting. 

In the DEO.

Again. 

“Moms fighting again?” Nia doesn’t really know why she keeps asking, this is like a daily occurrence now. Agents don’t even bat an eye when bickering echoes off the halls, nowadays. Apparently, this is what happens in the CatCo bullpen and L-Corp offices too. 

Alex appears next to her. 

“You know you really should stop calling them that, especially since—“

“WE ARE NOT NAMING OUR KID, POTSTICKERS!”

[guns-in-the-desert]

Alone Time- Germany(NSFW) one-shot

IT’S FINALLY HERE, MY FIRST ONE SHOT ON THIS BLOG, To the angel that requested it, I’m sorry it took so long, I hope you love it. I tried my best to keep it gender neutral as possible. So tell if there are any slip ups (specifically with pronouns).

anyways, here are the warnings

Pet-play(she was on a leash), Boot licking, Oral sex (reader giving), Germany being hot, and bad writing.

Status: Unedited

“Stop it, Ludwig,” I say, feeling my boyfriend's lips on my neck. “I'm trying to cook.” 

“I'm not doing anything, just relax.” and me, being the idiot I am, I listened. I tried my best to focus on not burning the pancakes in front of me, but Ludwig was making this the most difficult task in the world. I feel his cold hands slowly begin to caress up my waist, and under my (his) shirt. He reaches over my shoulder and turns off the stove. He begins to bite my shoulder. I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. Ludwig starts to rub up my thighs, I bite my lip, in anticipation. He slowly inches his hands closer to my core. He begins to slide my underwear to the side, I feel his finger start to enter my.

“Ass face, I need powdered sugar.”  Monika’s (nyo!Germany) voice rings through the house. I hear the front door slam and turn around to see Ludwig, eyes wide, and cheeks red. He Immediately removes his hands from me, and goes upstairs. Great, now I'm horny with a half cooked pancake.

It’s been a week since Ludwig’s sister caught us in a less than decent position, and he hasn’t laid a hand on me since “You need to get over your weird paranoia, no one is gonna walk in.”  I say crawling towards him, leash around my neck. There’s no way he could resist me like this, I'm practically the  perfect puppy. He looked right at me, and turned right back to his laptop. My eyes were saucers, at this point. I stared at him in awe. He completely ignored me. I see my boyfriend's eyes look in my direction.

“Don't give me that look.” he says, my face twisted into a confused look. “Stop it.” Ludwig commands. 

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” He gives me a stern look and I begin to catch on. Slowly I start to crawl towards my boyfriend, tongue out, eyes wide. 

“Sit.” I stop dead in my tracks, look at him, cocking my head to the side. “Stop, I'm working.” I bite my lip and whimper. He takes a deep breath and continues to type. I continue crawling forward. “I said stop!” he said, his jaw tense. 

“But master,” I pause, “I've been so good.” Without hesitation, he grabs the leash and yanks me in his direction.

“I've spoken to you about talking back, haven’t I?” he questions, his voice lowering. I nod in response. “Then what exactly am I gonna do about that mouth of yours?”  he asks while he pinches my cheek. Despite the way it was phrased it wasn't much of a question.

Ludwig unzips his pants and takes his length out, he grabs the back of my head, and not so gently places my mouth around his cock. 

“HEY WEST!” The obnoxious sound of my boyfriend's older brother, Gilbert’s, voice fills the home office. I'm immediately yanked off of my boyfriend's cock by my hair. “I don't remember what I came in here for, but mine is way bigger.” and before I knew it, we were both being kicked out. Joke’s on him, I could hear his porn through the door, that he had the nerve to lock me out of.

At this point, Ludwig’s refusing to even glance in my direction, and doesn’t seem to like the idea of taking back the keys he gave to his siblings, so once again, I'm forced to take matters into my own hands. I wait for him to come home, on the couch, in nothing but a collar and pink thong, this has to work or I might actually explode. 

I hear the lock on the front door turn, and I perk up, “Hey, Ludwig, how was work?” I greet him casually

“Oh, it was fi-” he cuts himself off upon seeing me, I can't but feel proud of myself for triggering this reaction from him. I look up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“What’s wrong?” I cock my head to the side. “Long day?” Ludwig can’t seem to find words. “If so, I know what you need.” I say guiding him to the couch. “A good ol’ fashion boot cleaning.”  I state lowering myself onto my knees.

“No, I'm okay.” My boyfriend says in retaliation. 

“D-did he just say no?” I think to myself. I'm pretty sure my jaw literally hit the floor.

“Would you prefer a foot rest?” I ask, switching my position to my hands and knees. He stays silent and doesn’t move an inch, it’s like he’s frozen. “Welp, I guess boot cleaning it is.” I state lowering my face to the boots in question. I start by licking up the side, my tongue only grazing the rubber sole.  I make my way to the steel toe, and just as I'm getting to my favorite part.

“HEY BROHAUS, I'M GOING THE STORE, YOU WANT SOM- OH!” 

“GODDAMMIT JJ!” I shout in frustration.

“You're just gonna let her talk to your big sister like that.” JJ says, sitting on the chair, in the living room like she didn't interrupt us. Ludwig looks as if he’s frozen. “Damn Luddy, you’ve kinda disappointed me here, you gotta make her lick it like she means it.” Ludwig doesn't say anything in response to his sister just lowers his head in shame. “If she doesn't, what's the point?” his sister continues. 

“Umm..” I begin but I can't figure what I could possibly say in this situation.

“Anyways, do you need anything from the store?” JJ offers with a smile. I'm in absolute shock by her nonchalant nature.

“Just some milk.” Ludwig says, eyes still on his lap.

“No problem, baby.” She says in an endearing, motherly tone (no one has ever confused me more than this woman has at this moment), getting up to pinch her baby brother's cheeks. Her demeanor immediately changes to her regular, obnoxious one, as she exits through the front door. “DON'T FORGET TO CLEAN THE SOLES!” She laughs while closing the door. I stay on the floor stunned at what just happened, as my boyfriend just goes upstairs to take, what I assume to be, a cold shower. 

I wake up to hear water running, I quickly get up and make my way to the bathroom, and strip down completely. I hop in behind my unsuspecting boyfriend, and wrap my arms around his torso, I feel him jump slightly. 

“What exactly do you think you are doing?” Ludwig questions turning to face me.

“Saving water, I thought it was obvious.” I say a playful tone in my voice. I lower myself onto my knees, to take his half hard cock into my hand, and slowly start to pump.

“Stop, what if somebody co-” I shush him 

“Who is going to come in, while your showering?” I say before putting my mouth to good use. 

“Well, I suppose your right.” he says, grabbing me by my hair, and bringing my nose to his toned abdomen. I feel myself choke slightly. 

“What’s wrong, can't take it, all of sudden.” He chuckles. “Pathetic.” he presses my head down with a firmer grip. “Suck it like you mean it, or don’t suck it all.” I'm suddenly hit with flashbacks of his sister from two weeks ago. I'm not gonna lie, It threw me off a bit.

Ludwig continues to bob my head back and forth on his length, watching me intensely. I feel him start to twitch in my mouth, he tenses and I feel his warm load glide down throat and dribble down my chin.

“GERMAAAAAANYYYYYYY” I hear the voice of Feliciano, Ludwig’s best friend,  as I'm met with the cold air, from the curtain being torn open. “Oh hi Y/N, you look awfully pretty today.” I see ludwigs eyes darken from his friend's comment. 

“What do you want?” Ludwig says, visually irritated.

“I wanted to know if you had seen my spatual, I used it yesterday and now I can't find it.” Feliciano had said it so fast, I almost didn't understand him.

“Why the hell would I know, YOU DON'T LIVE HERE!” I jumped a little at his sudden increase of volume, it was kinda hot. 

“I'm sorry Luddy, I forgot?” I giggle at Feli’s response.

“You mean to tell me you walked all the way to my house, and still didn’t remember you lived somewhere else?” Feliciano just nodded in response to my boyfriend's question. “GET OUT!” and with that, Feli was out the door. 

Ludwig reaches over to turn the water off. “Um, what exactly do you think you're doing?” I say and he shoots me a confused look. “You get to finish, and I don’t?” He stops and stands straight up. “I think the fuck not, you trick ass bitch.”

Ludwig sighs, hoisting me up against the wall, and rubbing circles on my clit. “You’re right, that was rude of me.” he says, biting my neck.

“That's quite a subby response, if you ask me.” I say earning me a slap on the ass, the water only amplifying the sting caused from his hand. Thank god, I don’t know what’d I would've done if he left me hanging again. 

Up next: Axis with a bratty s/o

Until next time😚

[ptergwen]

4 times peter loved you and 1 time he said it

warnings: angst, swearing, and flash being a dickwad (love him tho)

a/n: i wasn’t sure if i would ever finish this bc i started in march? and gave up but i really like the concept so i made myself get back into it and AHH i’m really happy with how it turned out! fingers crossed y’all like too ahaha. also this is unrelated but send me requests!

-

to say you and peter were each other’s missing halves would be an absolute understatement. there wasn’t a secret you didn’t share, an inside joke you didn’t have, a text or call left unanswered, or a second you weren’t on the other’s mind.

it had been like that since your first day of freshman year. you took the seat next to peter in first period spanish, and the rest was history.

peter knew you better than you knew yourself. as cheesy as it sounded, it was true. he could guess what you were going to order at a restaurant before you picked up the menu. if you had a bad day, he’d come over to your place with tissues and hugs, without you having to ask. he knew all the little things.

you? you were a peter parker encyclopedia. you watched all his favorite movies so he could rant to you about them, and you’d actually understand what he was saying. whenever he felt overwhelmed by his chaotic life, you found a way to calm him.

you two were soulmates in best friend form.

best friends, nothing more.

♡ 1.

you had an arm around peter’s neck as you picked at some fruit on his lunch tray. his head was resting comfortably against your cheek, whole body leaning on you. impromtu cuddle sessions weren’t unusual for the two of you. they worked in both of your favors. peter was your own personal heater, and you were just really comfortable to nap on, in his opinion.

“are you gonna eat all my grapes? i was looking forward to those,” peter whined, taking one out of your hand. “are you gonna keep using me as a pillow?” you challenged. he responded by moving his head to your shoulder and chewing. “then, yes. i am gonna eat all your grapes.”

“you know what two people who share food are?” ned chimed in from across the cafeteria table. already knowing what he was implying, you sighed. “what, ned?” he cupped his hand over his mouth like he was about to spill the world’s biggest secret. “a couple.”

it wouldn’t be a regular day without ned trying to play matchmaker for you and peter. the idea made peter scoff. “leave us alone, man. that doesn’t even make sense.” “yes it does!” ned nudged mj for backup. she only raised her hands in defense. it was always a hard pass from her on getting involved in these types of things, unless she found a reason to.

“really? how?” you grabbed peter’s milk and took a sip just for the hell of it. he chuckled at that, forgetting he was supposed to be annoyed with you. a bit of milk dripped down your chin in the process. “oops,” you grimaced at yourself and licked it away.

something about the whole thing made peter’s heart clench. it was so... you were so... cute. cute was definitely the word he was looking for. wait, what? that was new. peter had always thought you were pretty and all, but he’d never found himself endeared like this over such a little thing you did. or had he? no. nope. it was ned’s stupid theory messing with him. that was all.

“y/n, dude, everyone knows it’s a thing. like, why else would someone give up their whole lunch? it’s flirting,” ned interrupted peter’s sudden thoughts about your cuteness. the smug look on his face made you want to throw the tray at him.

before you even joined their friend group, ned was on a mission to set the two of you up. peter described you to him and mj as “the actual sweetest girl ever. she makes me laugh a lot. you guys gotta meet her.” mj obviously ‘tsked’ at him, but a light bulb went off in ned’s head. peter was crushing. he just didn’t know it yet.

part of how you and peter got so close was that ned and mj used to back out of group plans. you’d end up hanging out alone most of the time. of course, it was ned’s idea. a successful idea, yes, but neither of you understood the obsession. apparently it was a guy in the chair’s duty to be a good wingman, and you should leave it to him. whatever that meant.

“if i remember correctly, you and your mom went halfsies on a piece of cake at your birthday party last year. what are you trying to tell us, leeds?” mj asked with a smirk. you and peter looked at each other and burst into laughter, ned’s mouth hanging open. the girl could really get someone when she wanted to.

“shut up, you guys! that’s different!” “so is y/n stealing my food and you calling it sharing,” peter made a point of saying more to you than ned. despite his words, he pushed the tray over to you. it was basically yours, anyway.

you thanked him with a pat on his cheek and popped more grapes into your mouth. in that moment, peter decided he’d get you all the grapes in the world if he could. jeez, he seriously needed to reel it in.

ned was only going to keep going now. “see that? peter’s such a sweet boyfriend. isn’t he, y/n?” he cooed and clasped his hands under his chin. you didn’t have the chance to change the topic before flash appeared at your table. he’d probably overheard your conversation. “penis parker is somebody’s boyfriend? good one.”

feeling peter tense up next to you, you put a hand on his shoulder to let him know you were there. you’d been in too many of these situations. the way flash talked to peter pissed you off in ways you didn’t think were possible. he was fine with everybody else, so why did he choose to pick on him? peter was the least deserving person of having to put up with it from anyone.

“just ignore him, okay? he’ll get bored and leave. works every time,” you reminded peter. too uneasy to say anything, he reached back and put his hand on top of yours. he tried to focus on how nice your touch felt instead of the fact that he was about to be humiliated by flash yet again.

“peter could totally get a girlfriend! he has, like, tons of girls after him,” ned attempted to back peter up, pleased with himself. groaning, peter put his head down on the table. he couldn’t bare to watch his friend destroy what was left of his social life. “you’re really pushing this now. stop talking,” mj warned in a whisper yell to ned. that didn’t stop flash from hearing her.

“she’s right. even parker agrees! look at him,” he snickered at peter’s embarrassed state. you’d had more than enough of him at that point. screw the silence. it wasn’t going to cut it for this one. while wingman ned was still making up stories, you tapped peter’s shoulder to find out how he was doing. his head remained down.

“you okay? want me to say something?” “i’m used to it, and no. i don’t wanna make you deal with him.” peter hated putting his issues on other people, but you couldn’t stand another second of listening to the things flash was saying. you cut into an argument between him and ned about peter’s body count. like his was any higher.

“fuck off, flash!” he stopped in the middle of his sentence. “huh?” “i said fuck off. anyone would be so lucky to date peter. you’re probably salty at him all the time because it’ll never be you,” you finally snapped. his tough guy persona faltered for a few seconds at your words, ned and mj taking the opportunity to high five you for telling him off.

peter was glad his head was still down because his cheeks were pinker than he’d like to admit. did you really mean that? would you be lucky to date him, too?

“what are you, president of the parker protection squad? or are you two a thing?” flash quickly recovered. there he went trying to get the last word in. the embarrassment for peter if you denied it was exactly what he wanted, but you weren’t letting him have it.

“ask me again some other time.” you plastered on a shit-eating grin and waved goodbye. unsatisfied with your answer, flash huffed his way back to his own table. after he was gone, peter looked up at you with something you’d never seen before twinkling in his eyes.

“thank you, y/n. you really didn’t have to say all of that.” “oh, no. don’t thank me. i‘d do it for you anytime. i am president of the parker protection squad, after all.” your fake smile turned into a genuine one for him. peter couldn’t help but mirror it.

his was heart doing that thing again. he guessed it was because he loved you so much, but this love felt different somehow. it wasn’t the friend kind of love he’d had for you all those years.

it was the kind of love he saw in the rom coms you made him watch when you got to pick for movie night. cupid’s love was the official name for it. when he put two and two together, the realization smacked him straight in the face. ned was right.

peter was starting to fall in love with you, and there was no way he could stop.

♡ 2.

peter was a workaholic. patrolaholic to be exact, especially when he had a reason. he’d sometimes find himself in a cycle of getting home late and going out early for days on end. he’d gotten used to the sleep deprivation. his grumbling stomach from missing meals wasn’t too big of a deal either. not when he had a city to save.

it was also a good distraction from everything else going on in his life. man, did he need a distraction. after peter came to terms with the fact that he loved loved his best friend, he narrowed it down to two options; telling you about his feelings or taking them to his grave. since the city was so busy, he was thankful he could throw himself into patrolling and not decide just yet.

may would usually only allow peter to patrol on weekends. school existed, and he had to take breaks. peter really wanted to help out more, so he proposed an idea that could potentially let him up it to the full seven days. he had to make it home in one piece every night for a trial week. that would prove to may he could handle it.

ignoring his black eye on tuesday and limp on thursday, it worked out. peter was positive he could finish off the week just fine. may didn’t have the same optimism. she decided that so much as a scratch on friday and it was strike three. friday came, and peter had impressively managed to end the day, like he thought, just fine.

he did one last swing around the neighborhood he was in, then started heading back to queens to gloat to may. on his way, he remembered he had to text you goodnight. he was bound by a pinky swear to you that he would do it every time he finished patrolling.

peter being spider-man was something you figured out only a few months after he got his powers. he technically exposed himself, and you pieced everything together. it all happened when spider-man offered to walk you home from school one day.

the way he rubbed the back of his neck while asking was a nervous habit that was oddly familiar, and urged you to say yes. you also thought it was strange how even though he didn’t ask for your address, he somehow knew where he was taking you. then again, he was spider-man. it was his job to know new york city and the people living in it.

you came to the conclusion you were making things up until he was about to leave. he walked you to the door of your apartment building and said, “stay safe, squirt.” nobody called you that besides peter. he came up with it because he had recently grown a few inches taller and could finally give you hell for being the short one.

needless to say, peter didn’t take off like he was intending to. he realized his slip up as soon as the nickname came out of his mouth. you brought him upstairs and had a long afternoon of questioning, explanations, and making promises.

peter typed out a message telling you he was fine and to go to sleep. as he was about to hit send, he swung too low and smacked his head right into a traffic light. that was what he got for texting while swinging. he could imagine mj giving him one of her famous safety lectures already, but that wasn’t first on his list of worries. he had a throbbing head and may’s third strike to deal with.

crap, may couldn’t know about this. she’d ban him from patrolling probably forever. going home was out of the question, but peter was in desperate need of an ice pack. there was already a bump forming from where the light hit him. his next choice would be to go to happy, only he couldn’t do that because he‘d tell may.

peter’s hands worked faster than his brain, and he started swinging over to your apartment. the overthinking began soon after. nobody wants to deal with a surprise appearance from their possibly concussed friend at 2 a.m. besides, what would he say? he’d barely seen you all week. it wasn’t fair to you, but it was too late to turn back.

peter landed on the sidewalk with an “oof” and crawled up the wall of your building. when he reached your window, he knocked in the same rhythm that he always did. no answer. he knocked louder. no answer again.

seeing as he had no other option, peter had to let himself in. he pushed on your window to see if it was unlocked. thank god it slid up then, but he made a mental note to remind you about keeping it locked another time. he climbed through the window with as little noise as possible so your family wouldn’t hear.

after navigating in the dark, peter pulled off his mask by the side of your bed. he instantly melted at the sight of you. your face was squished into your pillow, hair sprawled everywhere. you’d must have fallen asleep waiting for his text because you were holding your phone. peter was sure he’d never seen something so adorable.

he let himself stand there and watch the peaceful rise and fall of your chest. the bump on his head was no longer a priority. peter was utterly and completely entranced with you. god, why was he acting like this? oh, right. he was secretly in love with you.

before peter could help himself, he brushed some hair that had fallen into your eyes away with his fingers. you squirmed in your sleep, peter pulling his hand back. he was such an idiot sometimes. your eyes fluttered open and landed on him.

“peter? ‘s that you?” you squinted to see in the darkness of your room. he moved closer. your legs dangled over the bed as you slowly sat up. “yeah, it’s me. sorry to wake you.” he went to scratch his head out of nerves, but stopped when he remembered it really freaking hurt right there.

“‘s okay. i was hoping you’d come over soon. missed you all week.” you frowned at the red and blue clad boy in front of you. except for school, you hadn’t seen peter the past few days. “lots of crime to fight lately?” “missed you more, and yeah. been kicking lots of asses.” the awkwardness peter was imaging faded away when he plopped down next to you on your bed.

“how’s your eye doing? and the limp?” you turned his head towards you by his chin. he exhaled in relief. “getting better, i think. now that we’re talking about injuries...” the sleepiness was knocked out of you. you all but leapt to your feet and turned on the lamp by your bed. peter had a feeling you’d slightly freak.

“we’ve been making small talk and you’re hurt? what happened, peter?” “i-i sort of, um, i was texting you and swung into a traffic light.” “oh my god, where?” he pointed at his forehead with a weak smile. surely enough, there was a big bump. you gasped. “please don’t be mad at me.” “i’m not mad at you. just feel bad it was kinda my fault. do you think you have a concussion?”

you weren’t sure what to do beyond the mostly useless first aid videos they played in gym class. being an avenger, peter had had his share of experience with wounds. whenever he came to you hurt, he talked you through how to help him. the most you’d ever dealt with was a few particularly deep cuts. this was not the same.

“i‘m not sure. you could try that finger thing?” he suggested. you crouched down in front of him. “good idea. let’s do that.” as you waved your index finger back and forth and peter’s eyes followed it seemingly well, his mind was elsewhere. he was thinking about crawling into bed with you and sleeping in your arms.

“well, you passed or whatever they say. i’m pretty sure you don’t have a concussion. you’ll heal fast because of... you know.” you stood up and mimicked the way he shoots his webs. peter chuckled quietly. your thumb ran lightly over his bump, making him wince. “how bad does it feel?” “on a scale from one to ten it’s, like, a five and a half.”

although not what you wanted to hear, it was manageable. you hoped so, at least. “i’m gonna go get some stuff. change into comfortable clothes.” “yes, doctor y/n.” peter saluted you. you were happy to see he still felt up to joking around. biting your lip to hold back a smile, you made your way to the kitchen.

peter searched through the spare clothes he’d left here over the years. there were so many, you had to give him a drawer. he changed into pajama pants and a t-shirt, then sat back down criss cross on your bed.

you came in shortly after with a water bottle, two advil, and an ice pack wrapped in a towel. “i was kidding about the whole doctor thing, you know.” “too bad.” you handed him the advil and water. “take these. they’ll help until your magic healing powers kick in.” peter took the pills while you pressed the ice pack to his bump. he took it from you when he was finished.

“is that any better?” “much better. i’m all good. i should probably go soon.” he mumbled, not meaning it but also not wanting to overstay his welcome. you’d already done so much for him. you stopped him from getting up by putting a hand on his chest.

“what? you already changed, and i’m not sending you home to get killed by may. just stay.” “are you sure? i don’t wanna bother you anymore. it was annoying for me to come here so late in the first place.”

a frown set on your face. “peter, don’t you remember my promise?” there was a beat of silence while he thought about it. “that you’d help out with spidey stuff?” “however and whenever i can. i don’t know what made you think differently just now, but nothing’s gonna change that. doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night or early in the morning. i’m always here.”

only you could reassure him just like that. peter was really lucky to have you. really, really lucky.

“right. you’re right. sorry for... whatever that was.” “you apologize too much.” you poked his chest to punctuate your statement and switched the light off. “sorry for that, too,” he teased, wanting a reaction from you. “peter benjamin parker, just get in the bed.” “yes, ma’am.” that was enough before you changed your mind and threw him out.

you rolled to lay on the other side of peter. still pressing the ice pack to his head, he laid down next to you. it didn’t take long for both of you to be settled under the covers. “try not to bang into the wall or something,” you joked and pulled your comforter up to your chin.

peter puffed some air out of his cheeks, tugging more of it back. “you can’t be mean and hog the blanket.” “it’s my bed, so i actually can. i’ll hog everything.”

to prove your point, you moved over to peter until there was no room between you. both of you knew it was an excuse to cuddle. he wasn’t mad about it at all. peter opened an arm for you. you curled into his side, letting him hold you close. his whole body relaxed as you hugged him against you. “goodnight, spidey.” “night, squirt.”

♡ 3.

“what does that cloud look like to you?” you pointed up at the sky. peter’s eyes darted around as he tried to find exactly which one you were talking about. there were a lot of them, in his defense. you made a big circle with your finger around the cloud in question.

“the really curvy one. right there.” “kinda looks like a tiger. can we keep walking now?” peter tugged your arm linked in his in an attempt to move you from the spot you’d randomly stopped in. he made a whiny noise when you didn’t budge.

“i think it looks more like a horse, and no. why are you in such a rush?” furrowing your brows at him, you tightened your grip on his arm. “because some people don’t like cloud watching, grandma.” “i only asked you about one! i’m just... trying to get the most out of today.”

with college around the corner, you and peter both had a lot to do and a little bit of time to get it done. your only hangouts had become some shared extracurriculars and weekly study group with your other friends. trying to binge watch your shows together on facetime hadn’t been easy, for one thing. you fumbled to keep your phone up more than you payed attention.

on a more serious note, being apart sucked majorly. it was going to be this times a million when you would inevitably have to split up in a few months. thinking about it for too long usually made you cry.

peter was struggling in other ways. his more than a friend feelings for you were only getting stronger. having all that love and not being able to give it to you was hurting like hell, and he had to just pack everything up and act normal during the rare moments you were together. you were both going through it.

this was the first sunday in what felt like forever that you and peter were both free. you decided that the nice weather called for a meetup at central park. so, there you were, arm in arm on your afternoon stroll.

“don’t say it like that, y/n. you’re making me sad.” peter let out a breath as you rested your head on his shoulder. “that was the point.” you started walking again, peter following next to you. he kicked at pebbles while you smiled up at him. that made him smile at his feet. you were getting really good at making him flustered.

“so, did you finish that pre calc packet?” peter asked to distract himself. you lifted your head off his shoulder with a groan. “peter, we’re not talking about school for once. let’s talk about literally anything else.” “like what?” you were about to make a suggestion, but something caught your attention.

you raced over to a swingset, dragging peter along with you before he could realize where you were taking him. you stopped in front of it and threw your hands up to present it to him. he let out a breathy laugh. “when was the last time you went on one of these?” you asked, taking peter’s arm again. peter shook his head. “way too long ago.”

with a smile, you walked him over and took a seat on one of the swings. peter sat on the one next to you. you spun around in a circle to see how much you could twist the chains, peter laughing. “y/n, what are you doing?” “having fun. you should try it sometime.” he backed up to get himself started and grabbed his own chains. “i do have fun. it’s just not in the ways you think.”

you untwisted yourself to watch peter. “so, how?” “well,” he started going higher, “i like learning about stuff, even the things we have to in school.” “everybody knows that. that’s the first thing i thought of.” you did know everything possible about him.

everything except his new feelings for you, but this wasn’t the time for him to blurt that out. he was still figuring out when or if he should.

“guess i’m not gonna say i like movies, either.” “singing?” you were swinging next to him, turning it into an unspoken competiton for who could get the highest. peter slowed down a bit since he’d had a head start. “i suck. the only person who’s allowed to hear me is you.”

“it’s possible to suck at something and still enjoy it.” the breeze blew your hair around, peter seeing it from the corner of his eye. he’d always loved how carefree you were around him. it rubbed off.

“remind me to force you to do karaoke one day.” “you’re so annoying.” that motivated you to kick off harder on the ground. peter huffed and tried to catch up to you. “don’t be mean to your only source of fun.” if that wasn’t true, he would’ve came up with a comeback.

the only time peter remembered to relax was when he was with you. it was usually because you reminded him. he skidded to a stop on the swing and looked up at you.

“why’d you let me win? was that too mean?” you looked over your shoulder. “nah, i just got tired.” “oh. we can do something else now. catch me?” “sure,” peter chuckled and got off the swing. he stood in front of you on the grass and waited for you to get lower. you clenched your teeth into a nervous smile.

“ready?” “ready.” swinging towards him, you jumped off and expected to land in his arms. you ended up completely on top of him instead.

the wind was knocked out of both of you, but peter had it worse because he broke your fall. your hands were on his shoulders and one of his was around your lower back. neither of you realized the position you were in. you were too busy trying to breathe again.

“god, that hurt.” “my bad,” peter mumbled. in any other circumstance, he wouldn’t be complaining about this. “i should’ve warned you or something,” you dismissed him.

you were still hovering over peter, your lips dangerously close to his. he could’ve sworn they almost touched. that was when you got off of him. he only forced out a laugh. nothing ever went his way. you offered him a hand, oblivious to his inner conflict. peter took it and pulled himself up, falling into step next to you as you headed to another path.

that could’ve been a chance to make some sort of move, and he blew it.

♡ 4.

it hadn’t been easy for peter to move on from that day. his mind kept replaying the split second you almost kissed on an endless loop, and all he could do was come up with what he should’ve done in the moment.

things were getting to a point where he had no clue how to act around you. being your friend was hard, but becoming your boyfriend would be that much harder. his stupid feelings put him in an awkward place, and he was afraid you were starting to realize. he couldn’t lose you altogether.

you asked peter to meet you for coffee after school. it was this small place in between your apartments you’d both been to once before. they had really good cookies and an overall cozy feeling you liked. peter wasn’t sure what this was all about.

were you going to confront him? did ned say something? maybe it was a mistake to confide in his most gossipy friend about how he felt.

with a headache from stress and a heavy backpack hanging off his shoulders, peter walked into the café. he spotted you at a table near the window. you’d already taken the liberty of ordering, two drinks and a chocolate chip cookie waiting there. you looked up from your phone when peter pulled a chair out.

“hi.” you gave him a small smile and put your phone down. “i already got everything.” peter shrugged off his backpack with a grin. he sat down facing you. “thanks. sorry i’m kinda late. i had to stop at my locker.” you usually met him there. come to think of it, why hadn’t you today? you pushed peter’s drink over to him. “you’re fine. i came here early to get us a table, anyway.” phew.

peter bent the straw to his iced macchiato and took a sip. it made him feel grown up, casually drinking coffee with you over a boring conversation. adult life must’ve sucked. “so, how was the rest of your day?” he asked to fill the silence. you only had two classes without him after lunch, so that was a dumb question. he’d never had so much trouble talking to you.

“eh. betty fell asleep on me during this cold war documentary we had to watch.” “didn’t she say american history is her favorite?” you broke off a piece of the cookie with a laugh. “not after that. what about your day?” the light from the window was shining directly on you, blocking out everything else from peter’s view. he wanted to tell you how beautiful you were so bad, but that would be creepy.

you took a bite of your cookie and raised an eyebrow. he was staring. “uh, nothing interesting. i’m gonna patrol a little bit later.” peter sipped his drink again. you clicked your tongue and let out a breath. “that’s all you do these days.” he knew you were catching on to how off he’d been. what was he supposed to say? it would’ve helped if he’d prepared a few excuses.

“just trying to help out while i’m still here.” that was a half truth. “yeah, but you should still take some time for yourself.” you ripped open your straw wrapper and blew it at peter. he caught it just before it hit his face. rolling your eyes, you put the straw into your drink. “i hate your reflexes sometimes.” he shrugged one of his shoulders casually. “jealousy is a disease.”

neither of you said anything for a few minutes. you stared out the window while peter finished the rest of the cookie. he could tell something was on your mind. whenever you were deep in your thoughts, you sort of zoned out like this.

he was too nervous to ask you what was wrong because of the conversation you just had. it sounded like you had already considered he was being distant before today. his feelings aside, he needed to reassure you. that was more important.

“y/n?” you turned your head to look at him. “yeah?” peter’s gaze shifted from you to his thumbs twiddling in his lap. “i know we’ve both been really... busy lately, but i’m still here. don’t forget that.” a hint of a smile played on your lips. you would’ve hugged him if you could reach. “thank you, peter. i kinda needed to hear that.” he nudged your leg under the table. “of course. hey, you wanna come with me tonight?”

a couple of hours later, you were in peter’s arms on a rooftop that was much higher up than it looked. he insisted on taking you for a swing so you could get the full experience. he’d been trying to get you to do this for the longest time, so he wondered what made you agree today. you wanted to find out what was so enjoyable about it.

“i trust you, but you’re not gonna drop me, right?” your legs were around his waist, and he had one hand supporting you by your back. that wasn’t terrifying at all. you grabbed peter’s shoulders, the idea of it making you nervous. he wrapped his arm tighter around you.

“oh my god, no. i can always web you back up.” “peter! that’s not funny.” even behind the mask, you could tell he was smirking. “you’re always safe with me, squirt. don’t worry.” you brought your arms up to loop around his neck.

“i feel better now.” “good. i’m gonna jump when we get to the edge, okay?“ your whole body stiffened up. peter could sense it. as excited as he was to share this with you, he didn’t want to make you feel pressured. “or we don’t have to do it.” his voice was quiet. you tried to relax in his hold. “i’m just gonna close my eyes. i think that’ll help.” “we’re about to find out.”

peter started walking towards the edge of the building with you holding on even tighter to him, your eyes squeezed shut. he kept finding himself in situations where he was close to you in the ways he’d been wishing for, but never for the same reasons. it was bittersweet.

he bit down on his lip and aimed his free hand at a building. you squealed when he leaned back. “i’m jumping now,” he prepared you, and before you could respond, you were in the air. you hid your face in peter’s chest the second you felt yourself pretty much flying.

“what the fuck, you like this?” you had to yell so he could hear you. peter shot another web to keep swinging. “it’s really not that bad! try looking up!” he shouted back, clearly amused.

grip tightening around his neck, you slowly pulled your face away from him. he kept you close as he swung. you somehow convinced yourself you weren’t going to die by looking at something besides peter. your eyes landed on the sky behind his head.

the sun was almost completely set, deep pink and orange merging together against the glowing lights of the city. you were finally understanding why he liked this so much. it was beautiful.

peter peeked at you for a second to check on you. he swore his heart was going to explode out of his chest. the look of adoration on your face, it was even better than the view. it was the view. the little moments where peter got to see you this way made him realize how in love with you he really was.

“this is... wow. i get it now,” you laughed in disbelief, watching as the city whirled past you. peter smiled so big it hurt. “pretty awesome, huh?” one of your hands slid back down to his shoulder. “take me with you more often.”

♡ 5.

peter licked his lips out of habit as he held the door open for may, who was following behind him with a look of pride. he was about to graduate high school. the ceremony was being held in a really nice stadium-like place. trying to find it added minutes on to the parker tradition of being late to everything important.

peter wasn’t as concerned with his tardiness as he was with finding you.

while he tossed and turned in bed the night before, he went over his whole school year in his head. that meant little things and big things. he was starting to drift off until he remembered a conversation with ned a few weeks back. they decided on a deadline for peter to tell you about his feelings, and it was before graduation.

they chose it because if peter got rejected, he’d be over it by the time college started. that was the goal.

it wasn’t that peter had changed his mind. it was that he completely forgot. he didn’t have a solid plan for what he should do. these things needed to be decided way in advance. he ended up pulling something together last minute because it was you. plus, this extra pressure gave him the push to go through with it. somewhere between steps seven and eight, he passed out.

may rushed him to get ready because he’d slept past his alarm. the whole morning was a mess, and he had at most fifteen minutes to confess his love to you by the time he got there.

“you should go make sure you’re marked here. i’ll see you after. love you.” may pressed a kiss to his cheek and half-jogged to the auditorium for a seat. he squeezed her arm and headed off to check in. your whole grade was already lined up along the walls for what looked like miles. the deal was to tell you before graduation. he still had about ten minutes.

peter walked past hundreds of students with his heartbeat thumping in his ears. everyone was in alphabetical order, so it didn’t take too long to find you. relief washed over you when you saw peter. you were worried he wouldn’t show up at all. his cap was in his hand, hair getting tangled from running his fingers through it. he looked at you with pleading eyes.

“finally, i’ve been trying to call you all morning. where were you?” your tone was dripping with concern. “i overslept. there’s something i gotta tell you, y/n.” he gulped. you smiled in a way that was kind of pitying. “we’re about to start going inside. i- you have to wait, pete. go get lined up.”

this wasn’t how it was going to end. not again.

he looked around to see who was watching, then he grabbed your wrist. “peter, what are you-“ “just come with me really quick.” despite yourself, you let him lead you down the hallway. you dodged a couple of teachers having a conversation and went into a bathroom that was vacant by some chance. he let go of you after the door shut. you stood behind it while he walked over to a sink.

it was making you anxious to not be out there. you could be late. peter was the same way when it came to school, so you knew this had to be pretty serious. you gave up the battle with yourself and made your way over to him. he was looking at himself in the mirror, trying to get a stray curl back in place.

“let me help.” you stood next to him. he turned to face you, that same look of urgency still in his eyes. you used two fingers to brush through his hair. there was so much gel that it was wet enough to mess with. you smiled a bit and took your hand out of his hair. his hand was gripping the sink.

“you look good, pete. you smell good, too.” “so do you.” his voice was lower than usual. you flattened out the material of your blue gown. “thanks. so, talk to me. what’s up?”

the question was so simple, but way too many answers were running through peter’s brain. he wasn’t even sure he’d have enough time to explain everything now. this was why he needed a written out and carefully crafted plan.

but, like he said to himself last night, this was you. his best friend in the entire world and any other that might exist. the person who’s been there for his most embarrassing moments, and who’s been responsible for some of his best ones. if he couldn’t finally say the three words he’d said to you so many times before, what was the point?

his fingers drummed a steady rhythm while he mustered up the last remaining bit of courage in him. you watched him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. “just, um...” he was stalling. he pulled his hand off the sink. “i... love you.” peter only glanced at you for a second, too afraid to see your reaction. “i love you, too. is everything okay?” his heart sank. you thought he meant it in the friend way.

that was what he got for being so terrible with words.

“no, y/n. not like that.” he blurted. you were lost. peter pressed his back against the wall and sat down. confused and equally worried, you sat next to him on the floor. “then what do you mean? you’re scaring me.” he checked the watch may made him wear to see how much time was left before graduation. four minutes. he really should’ve woken up on time.

“we have to get back in line soon. i don’t wanna miss-“ “i love you, y/n. i’m in love with you.” a weight that had been on peter’s chest for months was lifted just by saying it. you squinted your eyes at him, but said nothing.

“i’ve been trying to tell you for a while, and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. i just had to say it.” “fuck, are you serious?” you sounded what peter could only describe as disappointed. yeah, it was unrequited. here came a summer of crying. “i was gonna tell you first.”

peter’s breath hitched in his throat, and he swore you could hear it. he was so sleep deprived that it felt like he was hallucinating. you shook your head as heat came to your cheeks.

“how long have you...” peter trailed off, an eye crinkling smile interrupting him. “that day we went for coffee. something clicked, so i thought for a while and figured it out. i think i’ve loved you for a really long time.”

you inched closer to peter, just barely resting your head on his shoulder. for once, you felt like the shy one. he put his hand on top of yours. his thumb traced over each of your fingers. “i’d ask you out, but you know. we don’t really have time.”

“peter, it won’t take that long.” you giggled. he squeezed your hand in his. “hm. y/n, would you wanna go out with me after this?” you thought about teasing him for it, but he was right. you had to go. that was the friend still in you. “i’d love to go out with you, peter.”

with that, you both jumped to your feet and ran out of the bathroom. you were still holding hands, and a few classmates made faces when you rushed past them to get to your spots. you exchanged one last smile with peter before lining up.

the person in front of you said everybody was looking for you two. honestly, you didn’t care all that much. you were too excited for your date later. peter already knew he’d be checking his watch throughout the whole ceremony.

it was a best friend and soulmate thing.

[laurensprentiss]

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 13:

Gif credit: @hqtchner

A/N: I toyed with several ideas for this one, but I wanted the reader to be strong in her own right which is why this takes the direction it does.

Warnings: Strong depictions of violence, assault, blood, vomiting. Graphic injury, choking, gun violence.

———

“What you remember saves you.” - W.S Merwin

———

“You don’t like what I’ve done with the place?” 

“Jordan.” You breathe. “What did you do?” 

His jaw sets. His expression goes from glee to fury and he’s next to you in a flash, nose to nose, dragging your head back by the hair on the nape of your neck. A wince escapes your mouth when the pulling sends a sting up your scalp. 

“What do you mean, what did I do? Isn’t it obvious?” He sneers, punctuating his words with another pull of your hair. 

You cry out in pain, your neck straining. The rabid look in his eyes and his bared teeth send shivers down your spine.

He continues, “I made sure you were going to stay all...mine.” He whispers, releasing his grip, smoothing the top of your head. “Isn’t it sweet? I did it all so I could have you all to myself… and instead of thanking me, you’re acting like you’re above me. Like you always do. Maybe I need to teach you how to be grateful-” 

“I’ll be grateful.” You offer in a quick breath. “I mean- I am. I am grateful. I was just so…” You swallow thickly, tearing your eyes away from the pictures, “Surprised that you did all this. For me.” You fight the tears pricking your eyes. 

“You mean that?” 

You swallow the bile rising in your throat. “Yes. I do.” 

“Good. Y’know all I ever wanted was us to be together? When you broke up with me, I admit, I was angry. I thought you were fucking somebody else.” He paces the length of the room and that’s when your gaze falls to the gun he has tucked into the waistband of his jeans. “But I realised you couldn’t possibly.”

You brace yourself when his gaze falls to his handiwork on the walls. 

“But then…” He inhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I saw you with him.” His volume rises steadily. “I send you gifts, I send you letters, I give you clues, I even draw blood for you and you repay me by parading around another man?!” 

You cry out when he delivers a blow to the left side of your face, a crack resounding in the room. Your skin blisters red hot where he strikes you, you swear he’s torn open some skin on your cheek. It sends your head spinning, you figure you’re already nursing a concussion, this just makes it worse. 

“That’s not-”

“Don’t you interrupt me.” He spits, his face close enough for you to smell the bourbon on his breath. “You had him come to my house today, try to scare me? He thinks he’s a big powerful man, FBI… that badge doesn’t mean shit, he doesn’t know who I am.” 

“Jordan-”

“What was it about him anyway? You could’ve had me, you know, we could’ve been a dynasty.” He’s grandstanding. Always did have a problem with his fragile ego. He turns his back to you, scanning the pictures on the wall. “He’ll get what’s coming to him. I’m having it taken care of.” He mutters.

Your blood runs cold. “What do you mean?” 

“Oh, sweetheart. You’re not stupid, you couldn’t possible have thought that I’d let him live?” 

Your heart skips. The ‘other guy’ that was to be taken care of - Hotch.

“Jordan, no. It wasn’t like that, I swear.” He turns slowly, rage behind his eyes that’s only thinly veiled by a psychotic smile. “There’s nothing between us! Please don’t do this. I’m begging you, don’t do this.” You plead.

“Why do you care?”

“-What?”

“Why… do you��� care?” His eyes are fanatical, nostrils flared. “If nothing happened between you, why do you care what happens to him?” 

You know why now.

“Because I don’t want anyone to die! Him, Emily, anybody! I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” You stutter through your sobs. “Please don’t do this.” 

“You don’t want him to die? How stupid do you think I am?” He grabs the back of your head and directs you to a picture of you and Hotch on the gazebo - the day you’d met. “You look at him like that because he’s a friend?” He spits. 

He’s right, though - that’s the thing. 

You don’t know how you didn’t realise sooner, how you didn’t see it sooner. Maybe it’s because you couldn’t see your own face when you were around him, but the way you look at him, your smile. 

You don’t think you’ve looked at anybody like that before. 

Tears roll down your cheeks now, eyes welling over. 

He smooths over your hair, straightening out his own shirt. “I will make it quick though. Humane. I owe him that much.” 

“What?” 

“I owe him. How do you think you got here?” When you can’t formulate the words he continues, “Hm, let me spell it out for you.” He continues his rapid pacing, fingers compulsively scratching his neck. “We break up, you betray me, so I leave the country. I come back, try to get you back, you betray me, again. FBI man comes into the picture, his girlfriend feels neglected, said girlfriend then conveniently runs into me at a bar after an argument, confides in me and starts sleeping with me. She’s a real peach, though. Total Type-A, wouldn’t let me fuck her raw.” He adds, rolling his eyes. 

You feel nauseous. 

You wonder if Hotch knows. 

He goes on, “I fuck her, she tells me everything I want to know. Including the fact that she thought he was cheating on her.” He laughs bitterly. “I thought we might have had something when you called me a few months ago, remember that? That was a good time.” Your stomach turns when you think back to the worst mistake you’d ever made. “But then you stopped taking my calls, I put two together from there, figured you were fucking him. I knew then that he had to die.” He rolls his eyes. 

His smile reveals a row of eerily straight teeth but there’s nothing behind his eyes except a sick kind of glee. 

“It wasn’t like that, I swear to you, he never touched me.” You plead with him, desperately. You reckon with the fact that if you couldn’t regain control of this situation, Hotch would die. “Look, I’ll do anything.” 

“Anything?” 

“I swear. Anything. Just call it off, please.” He considers your statement for a moment, kneeling down between your knees again. He makes a point to flash you his gun, the silver glinting, before reaching for a switchblade that’s tucked into his back pocket. You flinch when he brings it purposely closer to you but he cuts you free. 

“I’m going to test you. Stay here with me. You run, I kill him.” He lays the knife flat against your bruised cheek, “Then I kill you.” He whispers. You wince when the sharp edge breaks a thin layer of skin and you feel a warm trail of blood on your cheek. 

You nod desperately, agreeing. “I swear. I’ll do anything, just call it off.” 

Just as he finishes cutting you free, his phone vibrates against the wooden table under the window. He excuses himself, face lighting up for a moment. You try your best to hear, but the voice on the other end is indistinguishable. 

Jordan’s responses are short. 

“Fitz.”

“Hello?” He presses the phone closer to his ear. “Lawrence? It’s done?” He smiles at the response from the other side. 

“30 minutes.” He hangs up and rattles off a quick text message before setting the phone down again. 

He sighs, concealing his unhinged glee when he turns to look at you. “Bad news babe.” He says tutting, knowingly with a disturbing smile. “I know I said I’d call it off but,” he waves the phone in the air, “it’s already done. Your friend, Aaron?”

Oh please, no. Don’t say it. 

“He’s dead.” 

———

Once the first bang reverberates in the nurses’ station, time seems to move in slow motion. McCall yells for everybody to get down, cocking his gun. Panic erupts for a moment before everybody falls to the ground, the first shot already fired. 

Where it comes from, who fires first, it isn’t clear, the whole thing in reality is over in a matter of seconds but time still seems to stop. 

Now, McCall kneels over a dead body, hyper-aware of eyes on him, “He’s gone.” He whispers. 

A hand grips his shoulder from behind as he stares down at the corpse in front of him laying in a pool of blood, three bullet holes in the chest. 

His ears still ring. 

“Hey. Emily’s fine. I had two cops posted outside her door.” He turns to find Hotch, who can’t tear his eyes away from Officer Lawrence’s dead body in front of them. 

They’re about to let medical personnel clear out the area and wheel him away in a body bag when Hotch spots something in Lawrence’s scrub pockets. 

“Wait! Hold it a sec?” He asks, retrieving a piece of paper and cellphone from Lawrence. They make their way back to Emily’s hospital room in unison.

McCall looks at him, puzzled. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, why?”

“That was the first person you ever shot, right? He’s dead. You’re allowed to not be okay.” 

“I’m fine - I need to focus. I need to get her back.” He’d be lying if he said his hands weren’t trembling but he has more pressing matters on his hand. The need to get you back safe and sound outweighs any personal conflict for him. He unfolds the piece of paper, muttering aloud a series of numbers. “It’s a phone number. What’d you wanna bet it’s Jordan?” He does a double take when he sees his own name written in capital letters on the other side of the paper, passing it to McCall. 

“Some vendetta, hm? He was sent to kill you.” McCall takes the phone from Hotch and starts to dial when Hotch places a stalling arm on his. 

“Wait.”

He dials Garcia’s number deftly, asks her to search for a location on the number before they call it, but to his disappointment, it’s a prepaid. He then has Garcia set up a track and trace before he lets McCall dial the number.

“Ready, Garcia?” 

The phone rings three times before it’s answered, Jordan’s voice curt and straight to the point, assuming it’s Lawrence. Hotch can hear Garcia’s typing and beeping but when McCall doesn’t say anything, Jordan takes matters into his own hands. 

“It’s done?” Jordan asks outright. 

“Yes.” McCall replies with little inflection, keeping his voice even so as to not arouse suspicion. Jordan gives McCall a time - 30 minutes, before snapping the phone shut. 

McCall tries the number again, but it’s dead. Destroyed. 

“Garcia, anything?” Hotch asks desperately. 

“No, sir, it was barely long enough to triangulate the call, I’m sorry.” 

“Keep searching, Garcia, we need this address. Look for something in isolation, out of the way. It’s gotta mean something to him.”

“Yes, sir. Typing as we speak.”

Hotch rubs an exasperated hand over his beard, “Y’know the media can’t get wind of this, if he has access to a TV or radio and sees I’m alive? He’ll kill her.” He shudders as the words leave his mouth, making way for the possibility that he does not want to reckon with. 

You might already be dead. 

He dials quickly “Chief Barnes? I need a favour.”

———

He’s been pacing the length of Emily’s hospital room for the past twenty minutes, waiting for Chief Barnes to call in every favour he can to keep the media at bay so they can keep up the charade. He increases the TV volume opposite Emily’s bed when he sees a news report flash across the scene. 

“Good evening, everybody. We come to you live tonight with some breaking news.” 

He braces himself. Did Barnes manage to cover the hit on him?

“The daughters of two US Ambassadors have reportedly been involved in what appears to be a multi-car collision in the Virginia countryside, earlier tonight.” 

Two pictures appear side by side of you and Emily. 

“The daughter of Ambassador Prentiss was rushed to hospital earlier tonight and remains in critical condition at Bridgepoint Hospital after sustaining multiple injuries. The daughter of the US Ambassador to France however, is reported to be missing. The Ambassador himself is reportedly unaware of his daughter’s condition, presumed to be en-route to Paris tonight. Three people were pronounced dead at the scene, including Metro PD officers Evan Matthews and Howard Denton.”

He waits anxiously for any mention of his own name or Jordan, Lawrence, but the anchor passes over to the correspondent.

He sighs in relief, just as his phone rings. 

“Garcia?”

“I think I finally have a location on Fitzgerald. I checked for any and all properties under Senator Fitzgerald’s name, his second and third wives, his spawn’s name, even the Fitzgerald Family Trust. Nada.” She pauses for breath. “So. I dug down deeper. I searched instead for any properties under Sloan Marie Fitzgerald - still nothing. But then I chanced a search under her maiden name, Hamilton, and wouldn’t you know - the Hamilton family had a cabin between Rock Creek Park and Montgomery County. The late Mrs. Fitzgerald would take him to said cabin most summers before she died.”

“Alright, good work. Send us-”

“I'm not even going to let you finish that sentence, because it’s quite frankly insulting. Coordinates are on their way to you now, Sirs.”

Hotch huffs a laugh, it’s the most he can muster right now. He knows he owes Garcia a massive bouquet of flowers after all this is over. 

He grabs McCall by his jacket. “Suit up. We’ve got an address.” 

———

‘He’s dead.’ 

The onset of shock and unmistakable rise of nausea had caused you to retch violently and empty the contents of your stomach into the nearest toilet. 

Your legs had given out then, and you’re now planted on a dusty armchair, finding yourself staring into nothingness, your body still stinging with the shock and injuries you’d sustained. 

It’s all you’ve done for the past fourty something minutes. The blood stays rushing in your ears, and the pounding in your head is unrelenting. You haven’t said a word since, your body’s energy drained. You’re almost catatonic, unable to even shed a few tears for Hotch’s death. 

He’s dead. He’s dead because of you. 

You think back to the first time you met, he’d been so bright eyed and optimistic. Disarming. You think about the way he’d told you about his hopes and dreams, his plans for the future as a profiler. He’d had so much to live for. All of that had been ripped away from him because he’d gotten involved in your case. It was your fault he was dead. 

And you didn’t know how you were going to make it out of this. Your limbs feel like concrete - fatigue, shock and grief make it hard to formulate any kind of rational thought. Jordan’s hand comes to smooth the top of your head once again, but the gesture is far from comforting or loving. 

“It’s okay. You’ll see in time, this was for the best. This way, there aren’t any distractions.” He whispers. He’s been pacing the length of the cabin, repeatedly checking his second burner as though he’s awaiting some news. 

He resumes his pacing when you finally break your silence, your voice hoarse. 

“You killed a man.” You whisper. 

“What’s that?” 

“You killed a man.” You sob quietly. “You had someone killed, that doesn’t mean anything to you?” 

“Oh I did more than just have your little lover killed. I made sure your father and that Prentiss bitch were taken care of too.” 

Your vision tunnels, a high-pitched whine penetrating your skull. You feel like the ground has just been ripped from under you, like you’re falling. You can feel your heart shatter, the splintering fragments of your life piercing your skin. 

“My father? He’s not here. He’s-”

He glances at his watch. “-On his way to Paris?” You feel the bile rising again. “I know. Like I said, I’m having it all taken care of. They’re all dead, babe - or will be, soon.” He brings a hand to your face, brushing his thumb over your cut. “Don’t you see? I did it so I could have you all to myself.” 

The glee in his voice provokes something in you, a rage you’ve never felt before. You figure you have nothing else to lose, everything and everyone you ever loved is dead, you’d either fight and die quicker, or you’d stay and die slowly. 

In a move that stuns even you, you spit on Jordan’s face and bring your hand up to strike him notwithstanding the piercing pain in your ribs. The flat of your palm makes sharp contact with his bearded cheek. The sound echoes in the room, and your own hand stings from the force, but a minute satisfaction settles into your bones. 

He takes a minute to steady himself, but when he turns to look at you, his eyes flash with something you’ve never seen in a person before. In one fell swoop, he drags you to stand by your hair, pushing you into a glass frame against the wall. 

The glass shatters, puncturing the skin on your cheek and forearm where you bear the brunt of the impact. He lands two blows to your stomach, causing you to keel over, winding you. The pain blooms to your already bruised ribs, your breaths ragged. He grabs you then by the throat, pinning you against the wall, your breaths coming short and constricted. 

He shakes you against the wall, his hand tight around your throat, cutting off your air. “You ever pull something like that again, I’ll kill you in ways you couldn’t possibly imagine.” He growls in a low voice. “Do you understand me?” You can feel the blood pumping in your face, your eyes starting to bulge. 

You drive your knee into his crotch with all the force you can muster, exactly like Hotch had taught you. You then go for his shin that only gives you mere seconds to grab your breath when he lets you go in pain. 

You fall with him, knees giving out when you gasp for breath, and when you see him charging towards you again, you reach to your right for a dusty glass vase that sits on a single table. You manage to get yourself back on your feet right as he’s about to make contact with you again, the butt of the vase smashing into his skull. 

He cries out in pain as he falls to the ground again on all fours, blood streaming down his face. A gash on his forehead seeps blood and several pieces of glass are embedded in his face. 

You’re still trying to catch your own breath when you spot the silver glint of his 9mm catch the light in his back pocket. 

This is your chance.

You half-crawl, half-run to him, landing a violent kick to his stomach to strike him down. You grab the gun from his back pocket, stumbling a little from the adrenaline coursing through your veins, your hands trembling. You check the magazine and load it as fast as your hands will allow.

You grip the Beretta just as Hotch had taught you, wrapping your dominant hand around the magazine, your index finger parallel to the chamber. Your other hand wraps around your dominant, as you stand over him.

“Get up.” You snarl. “Get up, NOW!” You order him through your coughs. 

He turns around slowly, slipping twice on his way up, groaning with the exertion. His face mirrors your own, a gash on his lip and forehead, blood streaming down his cheek. 

He chuckles darkly, revealing a set of shark-like teeth that are covered in his blood. “Oh… you think you’re hot shit. You even know how to use that thing? Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” 

Your body aches feverishly and you swear you could pass out at any minute, vision blurry. You can feel your grip loosening and you’re trying to centre yourself when Jordan takes advantage of your momentary slip. 

He lunges for you in a flash, knife in hand. 

———

“We’re about a mile out, I want sirens and lights off. He can’t know we’re coming.” Hotch says into his radio. He’s watching the road ahead as they get deeper into the woods, the off-road terrain making it hard to keep control of the SUV. 

They’re backed up at rear by three MPD police cars, Chief Fuller’s attempt at making nice with Hotch after their earlier altercation.

He swallows thickly, his mouth like cotton. He knows he can’t afford one wrong move, not here. Not with you. He needs to get you back. He made a promise to Emily. 

He’ll die trying. 

He keeps a firm grip on your chain, rubbing it one last time for steady luck before tucking it into his shirt pocket. 

A clearing of trees reveals another path to them. It leads off into the distance, to a small wooden cabin around 80 feet away. It’s illuminated by amber light emanating from a single window. 

“Alright, guys. Nice and slow, headlights off, we’re gonna dismount now. Everybody out.” He whispers into the comms once they clear another 50 feet. 

Leaves rustle underneath their feet as they stealthily approach the cabin, guns cocked. Hotch has three cops flanking him and McCall brings up the rear, covering the back exit. 

They’re almost at the entrance when a loud bang resounds from inside, and Hotch short circuits, his knuckles white around his glock. 

Inside the cabin, you send Jordan flying with a shot to his shoulder, the smell of gun smoke burning your nostrils. Your hands tremble violently, your mind temporarily blanking - you feel like you’re swimming. Your ears ring from the noise, a high-pitched whine piercing your brain. 

There’s another bang almost immediately after Jordan stumbles backwards but you’re sure you only fired one shot. 

Jordan’s body in front of you is your only focal point, so much so that it’s only when you see McCall and two cops approach him writhing on the floor that you come back into your body. 

You realise the second bang had been them kicking down the front door. Your hands on the Beretta loosen just slightly and you let out a deep exhale. The voices in the room are still swimming as your brain slowly catches up. 

“Grab her.” McCall’s voice calls out. He shouts into the comms that he needs medics, and suddenly there’s a distinct feeling of a hand on your wrist and a body next to you. You reassure yourself that Jordan is on the ground so you let your hands fall limp, dropping the gun and it falls to the ground with a sharp clack. Your eyes are still trained on McCall pressing on Jordan’s wound. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me.” The voice cuts through your still-ringing ears. 

You know that voice. 

You’d know that voice anywhere. 

Your heart thunders, and your lips start to tremble as you try to reconcile everything you thought was reality with what’s really in front of you. 

You turn slowly to find an achingly familiar pair of warm hazel eyes. 

He’s alive. 

“Aaron?” You sob. You reach out for him but he catches you before you can stumble, his arms steady around your waist. He whispers into your hair, bringing a protective hand up to cradle your head as you sob into his chest. 

“It’s okay. I got you. I told you I’d come for you.” 

His voice is the last thing you hear before you black out, your body finally offering you some well-earned reprieve.

———

Tags:​ @oreogutz @andromedasstarship @galacticnerd-78 @izzyl13 @bananabucky @crying-river @purpledragonturtles @gabbysblogthingy​ @archiveofadragon​ @yoshigguk @acidicbloody @jeor @ivebeenthinkingboutu​ @bauslut @averyhotchner @vashanatasha @hotchwhore15 @pjmjams @slxtherinchxser

< Prev | Next >

[feysandfeels]

ACOTAR 5 or 6?? (I don’t know which book is next)

Did someone ask for this? No, not really. Am I still going to theorize how the next book is going to go in length? Yes, yes I will. Also I’m doing a facemask that needs 20min to set in so like, I have time to kill. 

I have seen many saying that Azriel’s book is next because through him we will get Illyria, which still needs to be dealt with. Also through him we get Gwynriel and that. Even though I can definitely see the logic behind that, I thought I might throw in another option just for shits and giggles. 

This is more like a fever dream than anything. Don’t hold me to it, because I haven’t read these books with the academic rigorosity to come up with counter arguments as to why it’s Az’s and not Elain’s book that will come next. But, that being said, if I’m right I will say I told you so (lol). 

Also this will further my Elucien agenda so like... yeah you’ve been warned.

Why Elain?

Because I think it makes more sense to go have a book deal with one villain working up to Koshei, than to have Beron+Koshei as the big baddies in one final book. So like ACOSF was the human queen, ACOTAR 5 is Beron and then ACOTAR 6 ultimate baddie Koshei. And who is character that has ties to Beron? Lucien and who would Lucien’s book be with? exactly, Azriel. no I’m kidding, of course Elain. 

I also think Elain was a character that had a huge presence in this ACOSF despite having like three sentences. You could see her impact in the book and to me that was quite telling. 

ACOTAR 5: 

Right so we all can agree on a few things after being in this fandom for a couple of years or at least since the end of ACOSF: first, Elain and Lucien will deliver a Jane Austen type romance; second, it will entail a lot of court politics; and third, Elain is up to something and no one knows what it is. Yes? 

First Act:

Elain doing her suspicious stuff and we as the reader find out what it is and can already see the negative implications

Lucien still taking the brunt of the work in the SC, which is still utter chaos.

BoE content: Vassa is agitated because her curse is nowhere near close to being broken and time is running out. 

The IC finds out what Elain is been up to. I do think it has something to do with her wanting to go back to her human self. Cue the confrontation.

Meanwhile with Lucien: Vassa might attempt something it triggers a magical response from Koshei, an attack or something. Maybe Beron decides to make a move to the SC given that Tamlin is absent as a ruler. I don’t know, the point is we get a confrontation scene that sees Tamlin die to protect Lucien. Everyone is in shock because the HL of Spring just died, without heirs and close relatives. Where did the power go?

Lucien starts to feel it, but then he realizes that it’s not because it is happening to him.

Cue to Elain having her “i want to be human again I don’t care the cost” rant at the IC. Amren will call her a stupid girl, because that’s what she does. Then the power flows to her and she’s going to be hella confused, everyone in the IC is stunned and when Elain asks wtf just happened, Feyre will say: Tamlin died (because she can feel the shift of power of spring due to the kernel of power of spring that she has), so that means and Rhysand finishes the thought by saying that Elain is the new High Lady of the Spring Court (and the first cauldron-chosen high lady)

This means that now she has more ties to this fae world and can’t simply abandon them.

We will have some discussion about what to do next and Elain is all like “I don’t want to be High Lady I didn’t even want to be fae”. Trust someone in the IC, maybe Amren (since she has no problem with saying what everyone else is thinking in the bluntest-maybe even rudest way), to say that having Elain be HL of Spring would make everyone’s life easier given the unified Prythian front they must once again have because of the Koshei threat. Maybe it will even be Azriel and they will have the E/lriel fallout...

Lucien arrives at the NC to talk to Elain or well something. 

News spread about what happened and they know that Elain’s claim (if she chooses to make it) to the SC is a tad shaky and not everyone will accept it. Beron is like the fuck if you think I will accept this human-turned fae claim. The SC is an strategic location and I will take it for myself because it will be useful fo my Koshei-agenda.

Eris arrives like hello my dad is about to move his army to the SC so now is the time to kill him

And Elain is still like “i don’t want it”. Think Jon Snow in GoT.

Cue an Archeron confrontation of “you can’t run away from your responsabilities// life is not neat and sometimes it will throw at you things you thought you wouldn’t have thought you’d needed to take on// take a stance for once and think beyond your own plants”.

Details are blurry but she is like I need to leave here (the NC) because no one has my best interest at heart they are just doing what it’s politically best. But who might have my best interest at heart? That’s right, Lucien. She asks him for help or to leave or whatever.

Lucien is a politician and a courtier but for once, for fucking once he will do something that’s not for political gain (for the court he represents). He will help her because he wants to see her at peace. They go to the human lands with BoE.

The first act ends with one dead Tamlin, one unsure Elain, one willing to help regardless of the decision Lucien, and one war focused Beron. 

Second act:

The BoE content we have all been waiting for 

Vassa might be weak from whatever happened and Jurian is all worried. 

They see Elucien arrive and are like 👀👀👀👀. Lucien glares at them in a “say anything and i will in fact kill you” way. 

Elain starts to open up and mentions that if anything it should be Lucien who’s the HL and not her because he knows the territory and it suits his skillset. All she wanted to do was have a quiet life and see the world. 

Lucien says that if he were to make a claim he would need even more support from other courts, because if Elain’s claim is shaky at best, then his is like ... not great.

They agree that Lucien should travel to other courts to gather support because regardless whether it’s Elain or Lucien who will ascend to the Spring throne, they will need it. Elain asks if she can go with him because, as she said, she wanted to see more of the world. 

We also get an Eris Vanserra visit - or several - and Lucien starts to realize that Eris knows waaaaaaaaaaaay more than he has lead on. And that they need to work together because again, regardless of who takes the throne, Beron will fight it, but if Eris is on the Autumn throne he would offer support to either. 

Cue the Lads tour of Prythian ft. Politics-courtier plotline and the “how the fuck are we going to help Vassa” side quest.

Elain starts to learn more about what it takes to be a High Lady and about the territory of Spring and its people.

During visits to other courts one or two members of the IC will pop in and out.

Elucien slow burn + court romance begins (We have nice balls with tension because that’s how Jane Austen would have wanted it and this is nothing if not an austenian romance).

Elan will learn about Jessminda (that’s her name right?)

Lucien and Elain have a heart to heart one day and Lucien is like “I’ve never had a home that is mine, i’ve always owed it to someone else or it comes because they see me as a political pawn”.

Eventually another heart to heart about the complex grief (if you will) that Lucien must be feeling for Tamlin. 

When we get to the Day Court, we get the baby news. Not only are they trying to gather Helion’s support but also to figure out a spell to save Vassa. Doing something with a spell Lucien and Helion find out. I imagine that Feysand is in the DC because they are trying to keep tabs on how Elain is feeling regarding her High Lady position and they wanted to meet somewhere neutral; and so is Eris, because things are getting out of hand at the AC so they are trying to see what they should do. Also Feysand are nosy bitches so of course they would be there.

After the reveal, Lucien is shooketh and leaves, Elain leaves after him. It is raining. They get wet and he stops when he arrives at a temple (we love a good P&P reference) Lucien starts the monologue of what does this mean, who am i, I’ve always been alone and Elain cuts in and says that maybe in the past he’s been alone but that he will never be again; Lucien turns to face her and she walks up to him and kisses him like the Cauldron intended when it made them mates. 

We Eluciens are starting getting our well deserved smutt dishes. 

Third act:

Elain is still  a tad unsure about being a High Lady, because all she ever heard was that she was good at being pretty and an ornament, that she was meant to be the supporting role. Lucien is like “babes fuck what your mom said but no matter what you choose, I will choose you”. 

Finally shit hits the fan at the AC so that’s where Elucien go and Helion.. because LoA is there and he says fuck it imma go help her Beron can go fuck himself.

However they do not arrive at the palace or something like that but to another location where we can finally have visual proof of what Eris has been up to. LoA appears. Her and Helion have a nice tête-a-tête. 

Vassa and Jurian are there too beause #WereGoingToNeedAllTheHelpWeCanGet

Elucien formally arrive to Beron’s court, as is the plan. 

The tension is absurd, the coup is about to happen, something goes wrong, they need to think of their feet, somebody gets hurt.. you know the usual stuff. 

They use the spell to free Vassa and in such release of power Beron is confused and weakened

Lady of Autumn delivers the killing blow. Beron dies, power goes to Eris and everyone is like did we win??

Eris makes the joke that whichever half of Elucien will make the claim to the SC he will support it. By this moment is clear that Elain will take up the role so we all have a good laugh.

Archeron sister reunion, congratulations all around. Maybe a celebration in the SC??? or maybe that’s too tacky given that the whole court is still a mess,

Happy ending?? oh wait there’s something more uh-oh, when freeing Vassa you also freed Koshei. Oh you thought you had weakened Koshei by killing is Prythian ally? think again. Koshei is a god of death that now has full access to his powers. 

The end. 

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 17

Hannibal teaches y/n a useful skill.

@dovahdokren @lov3vivian @deadman-inc-bikeshop

Trigger warnings: use of firearms, discussion of firearms, violence

“So where are we off to next?” You asked, following Will around the office. “Are we questioning this Rachel woman, or are we going straight to the church?” 

Will sighed. “Jack and I are going to the church. I’m calling Hannibal to come pick you up.”

“What?” You spat in utter disbelief. “What the hell happened to taking him down together?” 

“You’ve already been more help than we could ask for.” Will explained. “This is the end of the line for you. We--”

He cleared his throat and looked down. “I can’t bear to see you get hurt.” 

“That’s sweet and everything, but,” You folded your arms. “You really think someone is going to hurt me in broad daylight in a megachurch?” 

“Well, somebody stabbed you in broad daylight in a restaurant, and that person just happened to come from this megachurch.” Will rationalized. “So, yes. I wouldn’t say it’s out of the question.” 

“So that’s it, you’re just going to pass me off to Hannibal?” You threw up your arms. “Look, I had enough of this growing up with divorced parents.” 

“Angel,” Will soothed, running a gentle hand down your arm. “Please. I’m begging you, think on this for just a minute and try to see why I don’t want you on this particular excursion?” 

You thought on it for a minute. “Churches do kind of trigger me.”

“I saw how tense you got when that woman said she’d kicked her daughter out of the house for dating a girl. I understand, dealing with people who remind you of Chase is going to trigger you.” Will whispered. “Have you even taken any time to work on healing?” 

“I could say the same to you.” You disputed. “You killed a woman and then came face-to-face with her mother. Why aren’t you trying to work through that?” 

“That’s different.” He blurted out. “That’s my job.” 

“Sure.” You snipped. “I have to take time to work through my PTSD, but you don’t. Got it.” 

“If you go home with Hannibal now, I promise I will...” He hesitated to finish the sentence. “I’ll work on my issues too. Cross my heart.” 

“Oh, I will absolutely hold you to that.” You pointed at him. “And I’m telling Hannibal you said that.” 

Will immediately regretted making that promise and it was obvious from his expression. “Please don’t.” 

“I am absolutely going to do that.” You said, in a way in which he couldn’t tell if you were kidding or not. 

Hannibal opened the passenger’s door for you and greeted you with a kiss. He could tell you were feeling off after only a few seconds. 

“Why so sad, my indulgence?” He asked, pulling out of the parking lot. “Don’t tell me you enjoy Will’s company more than mine?” 

“What? No.” You shook your head. “No way.” 

“You can tell me what’s on your mind, love.” He assured you. 

You sighed and rested your head on the window. “Will doesn’t want me to help on the investigation anymore.” 

“I don’t see why he should.” Hannibal agreed. “You’re tracking down the man who tried to kill you, and he’s tracking down the man who tried to kill his lover. Both of you are far too close to the situation and your mental health will suffer for it. But, in the end, it’s Will’s job.” 

“I know.” You conceded. 

“That, and,” Hannibal continued. “Will is a trained professional under the supervision of other trained professionals. He’s far less likely to get hurt.” 

“I get it.” You groaned and rolled your eyes. “At the end of the day, he’s the action hero and I’m the damsel in distress.” 

“Darling,” Hannibal scolded. “You know our situation isn’t so black-and-white. You know the investigation couldn’t have worked without you.” 

“I know.” You pouted. “I just wanted the final blow, y’know? I think I deserve to finish the job.” 

Hannibal went quiet for a moment. When you came to a stoplight, he turned his gaze to you. “You want to be more proactive in your safety.” 

“Would be nice.” You shrugged. 

“I wasn’t asking.” Hannibal corrected. “You do want to be more proactive. It’s why you have a firearms license in your wallet and a handgun in your car. It’s also why you were looking up hunting equipment last night while you were on the phone with Freddie Lounds.” 

You swallowed. Every word in the English language escaped you. He was right. You never saw the appeal of guns until you lived alone. Even though a "gun owner" was technically what you were, you didn't want to associate yourself with the jingoistic, hyper-masculine culture affixed to the term. You were just a woman who kept a gun in her car and had all the proper licensing and registration for it. Nothing wrong with that. So why did it have you feeling so defensive? 

You lowered your head. “I’m sorry.” 

“For?” 

“Lying about Freddie Lounds.” You finished. “I don’t know why I felt the need to lie about that, in hindsight-” 

“I understand.” Hannibal cut you off. “You were just doing what you felt needed to be done. Will would have done the same.” 

He was right again. 

“Ambitious of you to select a shotgun as your weapon of choice.” Hannibal observed. “At the risk of sounding like a chauvinist, I have to ask. Do you know how to use one?” 

“No.” You admitted. “It was just a power fantasy, I guess. All I know is that you can blast a guy’s head off with one.” 

Without a word, Hannibal took an abrupt turn. 

“Isn’t your place that way?” You asked, pointing in the opposite direction. 

“Do you have your license on you now?” He asked. 

“Of course I do, why?”

“Because we’re going to make your power fantasy a reality.” He answered.

Soon enough, you pulled up to a large hunting store with a shooting range attached. 

“Go in and pick out something you like.” Hannibal instructed, reaching for his wallet. “I’ll be waiting for you at the range and I can teach you how to use it.” 

He offered you one of his shiny metal credit cards. When you didn’t immediately take it, he pushed it closer to you. 

“I just got a thousand dollars from Freddie Lounds.” You pushed his hand away. “I can pay for it.” 

“You deserve something much nicer than only a thousand dollars can buy you.” Hannibal’s voice hardened. 

“So then I’ll buy something more than a thousand dollars and use your credit card to make up the difference.” You offered. 

“No.” Hannibal said, sternly. “I will buy you a nice gun and plenty of ammo, and you will save your thousand dollars for when you open your own restaurant.” 

“How did you-” You objected. 

He cut you off. “Will isn’t very good at keeping secrets, dear. Take it.” 

You laughed uncomfortably. “Hannibal, if you don’t put that credit card away I will bite your finger off.” 

His thin lips curled into a cunning smile. He offered you his other hand. “Bite away, darling.”  

You wordlessly snatched the card from his hand. 

“Oh, pity.” Hannibal feigned disappointment. “Did I call your bluff?” 

You tucked the card away in your pocket. You leaned in as if you were going to give him a kiss on the cheek, but playfully nipped at his earlobe. 

"Remind me to give you a little special attention when the lesson is up." He whispered, his hand clutching your arm.

You made sure to walk away slowly, rolling your hips with every step.

You entered the store, feeling overwhelmed and significantly less confident than you did while shopping for guns online.

An employee approached you. You mentally prepared yourself for whatever sexist comment he was about to hurl at you. But somebody must have taught this particular associate that being a misogynist prick doesn't sell guns.

"Anything I can help you find, ma'am?"

Your mouth ran before your brain. "I'd like to buy a gun, please."

"Well, you've come to the right place." The employee smiled. "What kind of gun are you looking for?"

"A shotgun." You corrected.

"Well, we have plenty of makes and models to choose from." He clapped his hands together and led you to a wall lined with shotguns. "Any specifics in mind?"

"I guess I just want something simple enough to use." You scratched the back of your head. "My boyfriend is taking me skeet shooting this weekend so I don't have time to learn all the complicated mechanics."

"So skeet?" The man put his hands down on the counter and looked deep in thought. He turned around and pulled one off the shelf. "I'd recommend this CZ over-under. It's a good place to start."

He offered it to you. Your eyes widened and your first instinct was to refuse.

He looked at you with confusion. "How are you gonna shoot anything if you don't hold it?"

You shook off your nerves and took the gun in your hands. It was a little heavy, and tilted near the stock. You looked at it as if it were a beautiful but deadly venomous tropical snake.

"Over-under's are the working man's shotgun." The employee said. "Or, woman, as it were."

You held it up to your shoulder like you saw in movies and felt a strange rush of exhilaration pulsing through your body.

"It's nice, right?" He asked. "And you can get to the trigger okay?"

"I'll take it." You said. "And some bullets, please."

"Now we're cooking with gas." He answered, a big smile on his face. "Let's get you rung up."

The fact that he didn't even stop to notice that the name on your license didn't match the name on the credit card only emphasized your country's need for stricter gun control laws. Even if the lack of such laws benefitted you in that moment, the ease of the process killed you a little.

The total came up to just under a thousand dollars. You couldn't bring yourself to spend more than you planned to, even if it was Hannibal's treat. You already felt weird about using Hannibal's money, let alone so much of it.

The employee saw you out with a friendly "happy skeeting" and you set off to meet Hannibal at the range.

"There you are, love." He greeted you. He had removed his suit coat and tie, and rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows.

For a split second, you completely forgot about the gun and were overtaken by the need to fuck him. You quickly regained control of yourself. "Yeah. I found something."

"I should hope so." He said, beckoning to you from the stall. "Come now. Let me show you what to do."

You stood in front of the booth, ears and eyes protected. At the end of the long booth was a paper target. Hannibal positioned himself behind you. He took your hand in his and guided it to the stock wrist.

"Wrap your fingers around here, like this." He instructed, his dark, accented voice shaking you to your core. "Now extend your finger to reach the trigger. Yes, that's it."

"Now place your other hand on the fore-end and hold the end of the stock against your shoulder."

The way he shaped your body, positioned your limbs felt almost alarmingly natural. He wasn't just indulging your power fantasy, he was directing it.

"Cheek against the stock, love." He instructed. "The gun is an extention of you. You must hold it firmly and give it support. You move with it, it moves with you."

He rummaged through the shopping bag and pulled out a package of shells. "Are you ready to shoot it, darling?"

"I think I should probably load it first." You said, nervously.

"Well that should take us no time at all." Hannibal approached with two 12 gauge shotshells. "Go ahead and engage the break lever right at the edge of the barrel."

When the gun suddenly bent in half, your first thought was that you'd broken it. Hannibal handed you the two shells and watched you timidly slide one into each barrel.

You felt yourself shaking and your palms were damp with sweat. You swallowed. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Were you afraid the first time you drove a car?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

"Cripplingly." You nodded. "I was so scared I didn't take my foot off the brake the whole time."

"But now driving comes just as naturally to you as walking." Hannibal smiled comfortingly. He placed his hands over yours and returned you to the shooting position. On one side, the cold stock rested against your cheekbone. On the other, Hannibal's hot breath grazed against your skin. "It just takes some getting used to."

Your finger squeezed the trigger and the massive projectile exploded from the gun. The stock pushed back into your shoulder, making you stumble backwards into Hannibal.

"Holy shit!" You exclaimed. "That's got some serious recoil. Is it supposed to do that?"

Hannibal chuckled and took a step back, giving you a little space. "Yes, darling. Now go ahead and fire off the next shot."

Your eyes widened. "Okay."

"Remember, you move with the gun, you don't fight the gun." He instructed. "It's more afraid of you than you are of it."

You squeezed the trigger again, this time fully expecting the recoil. The shot fired, and this time it hit the target.

You hopped in delight. "Holy shit I actually got one!"

"All it takes is a little getting used to." Hannibal stroked your hair. "Now unload the shotgun shells and let's go again."

[glitterge1pen]

Hello? I Am Calling To Remind You Of Your Local Skating Rink.

Kyōtani Kentarou x reader, sfw, fluff, 1,686 word count 

"I have a question"

Kyotani never answered or called with a "hello" or "hey". He would immediately get to the point of the conversation.

"Yes?"

You respond with, trying to be light hearted, unsure what Kyotani was going to say next.

"Do you...do you, shit, fuck, uh"

When he had called you, you had been taking a break from the show you were watching to grab a drink from the fridge. Upon hearing his nervous line of questioning you perk up in interest, propping yourself up on the open fridge door.

"Yes?"

You say again, unable to hide the slight teasing nature of your voice.

"Listen, I swear to God if you laugh I'm going to kill you just so I can piss on your grave,"

"Okay , okay, I give in, I promise I won't laugh"

You hear Kyotani sigh, he sounds very small when he finally chokes out his words.

"Do you know how to roller skate?"

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

At 2:00pm on a weekday the rink is mostly empty. You had managed to weasel your way out of work to indulge Kyotani. You had met him outside the rink. He stood underneath the rotting neon lights that didn't hum during the day. His hands shoved in his pockets, his gaze scanning the parking lot looking for you. When he saw you approaching he turned away, a look of regret and embarrassment on his face. But you did your best to reassure him before going in.

"I'm not gonna let you fall or anything, and I'm sure you'll be good at it anyway,"

Kyotani pays for both of you even when you try to shove the five dollar admission fee into his palm. A nostalgic feeling takes over you as you take in the rink. The bright patterns dancing on the black faded carpet, the sound of kids slamming on top of the prize counter, the whiz of skates gliding over the floor, the butter smell from the popcorn, the flashing lights of the arcade cabinets.

"What size skates do I get?"

Kyotani says leaning close to your ear so that no one else can hear his question. You point out the size chart that rests behind the skate counter. You get the skates for both of you while he leans on the wall of the rink. Watching the one young family, two teenage girls, and one lone adult, move around the pond of concrete. You place the skates onto the white painted brick with a heavy thunk.

"You need help with those too?"

You say a laugh spilling through your teeth.

"Shut up,"

Is all he says as he begins to lace up. While he puts the skates on you throw your belongings into a locker with his. You toss the key to him, telling him not to lose it.

"You ready?"

You ask, hand extended to his. Kyotani sits with his hands pulling at the fabric of his jeans. His knuckles white, his face scrunched up in determination and fear. When he finally puts your hands together, he pulls on you so hard that you tumble down onto him.

"Hey, hey, calm down, not so hard"

You say as you untangle your arm from his shoulder, maneuvering your face so that you don't have to look at him. One of your arms propping you up on the bench he had been sitting on. You regain your stance and extend your hand to him one more time. He's not as rough, pulling only as much as needs too in order to stand.

"See, not so bad right?"

Your words hit the floor with Kyotani because as soon as he's on his feet they slip out from under him. You pull up on his hand, trying to keep as much of him in the air as you can. His eyes are wide, his mouth pressed into a tight line like he's trying to keep in a scream. You decide maybe talking isn't the best. Kyotani is stiff as stone once he regains his compurse. Refusing to scoot one bit from the position next to the bench. Well maybe giving him one little shove wouldn't hurt.

"If the team is going out roller skating, doesn't that mean Tsukishima will be there?"

Kyotani moves. Or rather he grabs hold of your arm, his chest clinging to your shoulder, his head next to yours, like the more of you he can touch the less of him will fall.

You pick up your foot, hovering it just barely over the carpet. Kyotani does the same. You put your foot down and so does he. Then you very slowly push back, rolling the slightest.

You and Kyotnai do this over and over. Eventually he can stand up straight again. But his grip is still tight on your wrist. You try to pull away from him, you want to show that he is more than capable of skating. Each time you lean away he follows like a magnet chasing after its other half. So you let it happen.

"Do you wanna try getting on the floor now? The carpet really drags you down when you skate on it. You think you ready for the real deal?"

Kyotani shifts his eyes from you to the flashing lights that graze over the rink floor like cows in a field. Hues of green, red, blue, lines of pink that fizz to nothing in the air. From the distance you're at now the bass of the music is just distant tremors and waves, you're sure that on the floor it's booming.

He nods.

You guide him to the step that drops onto the smooth concrete. The family that's two toddlers and their parents stick to the middle of the ring, not making full circles, while the two girls move slowly, their arms chained together as they talk and skate. The other adult there moves so gracefully that they are practically invisible as they weave between nothing and twirl around the edges of the rink.

You stumble just a bit when you meet the surface of the rink, the texture so different from the carpet. Kyotnai also fumbles, but his misstep is more drastic. He falls onto you this time, his body weight catches you off guard, you bend your knees as best you can barely stopping the two of you from toppling onto the ground.

"I fucking hate this,"

Kyotani says with a groan as he tries to separate himself from you. But his arms are shaking just a bit, his legs not yet having fathomed skating. He'll pull away, only to pull back to you. For the first time the uneasy expression he's had since he got there, is replaced with frustration.

"Hey, you're skating!"

You tell him with delight. He freezes. Suddenly forgetting what he had been doing. You start dragging the wheels of your skates on the floor, his hands clasp onto your wrist at the movement. He lets you tow him across the length of the rink. At the turn, you pry one of his hands from you, forcing him to lead into the next bend.

He teeters a bit. When he successfully makes the turn his arms raise in accomplishment. Lost in his own excitement he has let you go. You stay put waiting for him to notice. He takes two and half steps without you. Once he realizes that you are no longer by his side, he whips his head around to find you, which is the same time he falls right onto his ass.

You drift over to him. Offer your hand. He grabs it, the Kyotani you normally see having emerged. He is no longer afraid or timid, he looks like him. He says nothing to you once he's back up. A fierce glimmer in eyes, one you recognize from the moments before he scores a point or spikes a ball.

Kyotani staggers in his first few steps. But then he's fine. He wobbles around the corners of the rink, he definitely shouldn't join a derby team any time soon but he’s sufficient and beyond satisfied. You will sometimes pull ahead of him, not on purpose you are just better on the skates still. You'll wait on the wall for him to catch up.  

"Stop doing that I hate it"

"What?"

"Waiting for me, just skate"

"It's no fun that way though"

"Then let me do that thing again"

"That thing?"

You ask confused. Kyotani huffs, seemingly annoyed that he has to explain himself. He grabs onto your arm like how he had been doing before. Now that he has better grasp on skating you two make easy laps. You still guide and steer. Reminding him to keep his knees bent, and if he doesn't listen you knock into him with your hips, trying to prove your point. Occasionally he will trip only the smallest bit and you still rush to try to hold him, trying to pinpoint where you should grab on to him.

Eventually time is up though. The bright overhead lights flicker on. The DJ booth cuts the music short. You blink trying to adjust to the sudden change in scenery. Your body feels hollow without the buzz of the music and the click clack stomps of your skates hitting the floor.

"Thanks for doing this"

"No problem-"

You're cut off by your back wheels not making it over the step that leads to the carpet. Kyotani instantly reacted when he heard the hitch of your voice, his arm straining to grab the nape of your neck, luring you closer to his chest. His other hand holding onto the brick wall that lines the rink.

"Don't do shit like that! That's like the hundredth time you've fallen today"

Which is an absolute lie, because the only times you wiped out where when you were trying to save him.

"And how many times did you fall?"

You say shoulder checking him as you glide past slowly over the confettied drawn carpet.

"Not once"

He tells you with a confident smile.

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

A/N: Did somebody say circumstantial physical touch? Me. I did. De La Souls ‘Saturday’ and Fantaisa’s ‘Hood Boy’ were crucial for writing this because IMAGINE SKATING AND THOSE SONGS COME ON????? Got a new phone case and put my Zuko sticker that Ive been saving for like six months in it. Got a paper cut today???? Lots of sunlight today so I liked that. Anyways I need to go to fucking bed. 

[lia-bones]

A thousand splinters of glass

Sirius Balck x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) boyfriend Sirius intrudes too much into her friendship with Remus. When he confronts her with his thoughts, they start fighting.

Warning: angst, Language (defilement and swearing), consumption of alcohol, Hint of violence ... I gess.

(Misspelling, Grammar errors, translation errors.)

Words: 2520

Author note: It was super hard for me to write Sirius like that. But it was a friend's wish and I'm fulfilling it.

(English is not my main language. I apologize for all misspellings, grammar errors, and translation errors💕)

Enjoy Reading 🌻

(not my GIF)

* * *

(Y/N) enter the great hall and take a seat at the Gryffindor table next to her boyfriend Sirius. She looks at her group of friends and still tired, wished them good morning.

"Good morning dear, how did you sleep?" asked the boy next to her after he put a kiss on her temple.

"Oh, very well, unfortunately too short." she replied with a tired smile and put a spoonful of scrambled eggs in her mouth.

"Remus, do you want to do our Arithmancy homework in free period?" she turned to the others Marauder who sat across from her at the table. Remus smiled at her and replied, "Yes, of course. After lunch in the library?"

"Call it a date." (Y/N) winked and went back to her scrambled eggs.

"Hey, I thought I was your boyfriend? What about me?" Sirius grumbled beside her and looked at her confused. She waves it away with a laugh :"You are, but that doesn't mean I can't do homework with a friend. You don't have a free period after lunch you have Divination."

Sirius mumbles something unintelligible but said nothing else. The friends all eat their breakfast and talk about this and that, before they all went to class.

* * *

After noon Remus and (Y/N) met in the library and started their Arithmancy homework. After some time of writing, Remus contacted her and said :"You know, I'm glad you're with Sirius now. You're doing him good." The girl smiled at him and answered :"He's doing me good too. I've got the feeling since I've been with him I've been a lot more confident.I am very happy to have him as my Boyfriend. And of course I'm also happy to have you guys as my friends. I couldn't think of anyone better."

"We're glad to have you too. Finally I'm not the only one holding the boys back." Remus laughed and pulled her into a half-hug with one arm. "yeh somebody has to bring you rule breakers to your senses."

"But I'm really serious (Y/N). Since you've been together he's a lot more relaxed and you make him think before he acts. At least sometimes." Remus told her seriously again.

"I don't want to tell him anything. I like him the way he is. I think sometimes he just needs someone to get him to think again about his ideas before acting. There is no way I want something like the incident in fifth year to happen again." (Y/N) said in a husky voice, put an arm around Remus' shoulders and gave him a short squeeze .

"No, nobody wants that." the boy whispered back and squeezed her once too.

It became quiet and the two pondered their memories of this terrible event for a moment, before they broke the embrace again and continued on with their essays in silent agreement.

* * *

After the last class of the day, (Y/N) and Remus sat in the common room and waited for their other friends.

"What do you think of the book? Have you read it yet? " she asked Moony and with a nod of her head pointed to the book she was reading. Remus put a hand on her shoulder and leaned forward to look at the book. "No but i want..." he is just beginning to speak when the portrait opened and the remaining three Marauders entered the room. " 'e, You two, here you are. What are you doing here?We were looking for you." James called to them and slumped into one of the armchairs. "We just talked, nothing interesting. We have been waiting for you. " declared (Y/N) while she closed her book and placed it on the side table next to her. The boys nodded and Sirius placed a kiss on the (Y/N) head.

Due to the lack of space on the sofa, Sirius sat in the other armchair, instead of next to his girlfriend and Peter sat on the floor between him and James.

The friends talked about everything and nothing for a while and soon landed on James' favorite topic: Lilli Evans

"I mean. She is so perfect. She is beautiful and smart and quick-witted and helpful and friendly. What more could a man want?" enthused James with a dreamy face.

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife'." Quoted Remus softly which made (Y/N) giggle so much that she put her hands over her face and rested her head on his shoulder.

Sirius watched with a raised eyebrow and asked :"What's so funny?"

The girl sat up straight again and wiped her hands over her eyes before answering :"oh Remus just quoted pride and prejudice. You won't know it, it's a fantastic Muggel book."

"Oh, but Moony know this fantastic book?" Sirius asked in a voice tarnished with sarcasm. His friends' eyes fixed on him and (Y/N) briefly shook head in confusion before she answered :"Well, Yes. It's a muggle book. He's half blood. And he reads more than any of us put together."

"My mother gave me the book a few years ago." Remus quietly brought himself into the discussion.

Sirius clicked his tongue and got up from his seat he took a few steps before stopping in front of his girlfriend and saying dryly:" Yeah yeah the perfect perfect Moony.

I understood. We need to talk. Alone." He pointed a finger at the stairs that led to the dormitories. (Y/N) looked up at him from her sitting position, knitted her eyebrows briefly in confusion, then nodded got up and followed him up the stairs.

When she arrived in the boys dormitory, she closed the door behind her and stood in the middle of the room. She watched Sirus go to a cupboard and take out a Bottle of firewhiskey and a glass. He poured himself some and took a sip while staring at her over the rim of his glass. The silence in the room was heavy and thick and the air to cut. Sirius cautiously let (Y/N) play with her fingers nervously. It was not customary for him to be so quiet and well, serious. The last time he acted like this, he had just received a letter from his mother.

Since he still didn't say anything, just looked at her with a serious face, she decided to break the silence in the room. "So what did you want to talk about? "

"You. And what you're pulling off right now." he explained in a low voice.

"Sorry but, I don't know what you're talking about." she said in a calm voice.

That just seemed to upset Sirus more, because now his voice was a lot louder :" Oh don't tell shit. Do you really think I'm so stupid and don't know what crap is going on?" He finished his glass in one gulp and poured himself more.

(Y/N) also got louder now and energetically crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"I already told you I don't know what you mean. What have I done?"

"YOU CHEAT ME YOU FUCKING Slut!" he yelled at her and pointed in her direction with his free hand.

(Y/N) opened her mouth and for a moment. She couldn't believe what she had just heard. Had he just really accused her of cheating on him and had he called her a Slut?

"WHAT HAVE I DONE? I am supposed to have betrayed you? How do you get the stupid idea?" she asked and made a wide movement with her arms. As if she wanted to chase the tension out of the air.

"Don't be so ridiculous. I noticed it myself. You haven't really bothered to hide it. You and a your loverboy." Sirus spat and glared at her. This whole conversation was very confusing (Y/N). She had no idea how he came up with it. It deceived her that he really thought she would do something like that, but at the same time it made her terribly angry.

"If someone here is ridiculous then is you. You are imagining things that don't exist. How can you think that? Who should I cheat on you with, please?" seh shodet back, on her face, spots of deep red anger were slowly forming. Frustrated, she ran a hand through her (y/h/c) hair.

The one across from her growled, clenched his jaw and again emptied his glass, which he immediately refilled.

"With your oh-so-perfect Moony. I see how you behave towards the other. It's stupid of you guys to think that I wouldn't notice. Are you serious. With one of my best friends? But what should I have expected from a slut like you. I wouldn't be surprised if you slept your way through the whole school." he laughed bitterly and screwed up his face.

(Y/N) didn't know what to say for a moment. For a few seconds, she started at Sirius with wide eyes before she said in a lowered voice :" This not true."

"OF COURSE IT IS. DO NOT LIE TO ME. THE WHOLE LAUGHING AND HUGGING AND ALL THE LOOKS IN LOVE.

OH, REMUS ARE WE BOTH LEARNING IN THE LIBRARY TODAY? OH REMUS YOU ARE SO FUNNY. REMUS IS SO SMART, HE READS SO MUCH. BLA BLA BAL." Sirius spoke in a high voice, trying to imitate her. (Y/N) shook her head in frustration. She had tears in her eyes but she didn't allow herself to cry now. Sirius got on with things that didn't exist and she wanted to make that clear to him. "That's not true. Remus and I are just friends! We study together because we're both in Arithmancy. And since when is it forbidden to laugh when someone says something funny? And we don't touch each other all the time. You see things that not there!"

"YES OF COURSE. AND I SHOULD BELIEVE THAT?" Sirius yelled at her and swung the now almost empty bottle firewhiskey through the air.

"Sirius please ..." she was about to start, but was immediately interrupted by him.

"SIRIUS PLEASE. SAVE YOUR WORDS. I should have known that it was stupid to sacrifice my single life for you. I could have had fun with other girls all the time, but no, I was with you. While you chedit on me behind my back. You dirty whore."

(Y/N) eyes got waterier and more watery during his monologue. She bit her tongue so hard that she could already taste blood and she clenched her trembling hands into fists, her nails digging in her palms.

"...Y...you...you now...i...i woud never..." She didn't get very far with her words, it all happens very quickly. Sirius took a step forward, she took a few steps back, bumped her back against the wall and and shut her eyes tightly. A split second later, Sirius 'glass flew across the room and struck the wall just inches from (Y/N)' s head.

"SHUT UP! YOU FUCKING CHEATER BITCH. SHUT UP!"

There was a crash and glass splinter hit the ground like raindrops.

Silence spread across the room and the two started at each other, eyes wide open. The remainder of the firewhiskey, flowed over the floor and watering (Y/N) socks. She took a deep breath and suppressed a scream. Her legs trembled and it took all her strength not to sink to the ground.

Sirius had tears streaming down his red cheeks and he pulled his black hair.

"No ... no ... I ... I swear ... (Y/N) I didn't mean to..." he began to stammer. He took his hands out of his hair and wanted to reach for her.

Slowly he took a few small steps in her direction. Arms outstretched as if to hug her.

(Y/N) shook his head vigorously, bit her lower lip and pressed herself even tighter against the wall.

Sirius stopped at the sight of her and stared at her desperately.

"No, stop it. Just leave it." she whispered in a husky voice and walked along the wall to the door, not taking her eyes off him for a second. With one hand behind your back she looked for the door handle, he followed her movements with his eyes. "No (Y/N) please, please don't go. Let's talk, I'm sorry ... I ... I ..." he begged in a scratchy voice and stretched its arms out to the girl one more time.

"No. I think it's all said." (Y/N) shook her head and opened the door. The restrained tears stung in her eyes but she definitely didn't want to cry in front of him now.

She stumbled backwards out of the room, pulling the door with her.

"Bye Sirius." she whispered hoarsely before she closed the door. Muffled through the door, she hears him calling her name a couple of times, but she just turned on her heels and ran down the hall to the girl dorms.

She stopped at her own dormitory, yanked the door open, entered the room and slammed the door behind her with a loud crack. The room was dark and quiet, the air smelled of fresh linen and cinnamon. None of her roommates were there.

(Y/N) leaned against the closed door and put her hands over her face. A heartbreaking sob escaped her and she slid the door down to the floor.

Now sitting on the floor, she hugged her legs tightly against your chest and buried her head between her knees. Now that she was alone she started to cry. The tears wet her face and the noises that came over her lips sounded heartbreaking. She tasted the salt on her lips and felt her tears seep into her tights.

(Y/N) didn't understand how this could all happen. She hadn't betrayed him. She had nothing with Remus or anyone else.

Yesterday everything was fine, they were happy together, laughed together, and fooled around. Today everything went downhill they fight, they yelled at each other and he accused and insulted them. He had thrown a glass in their direction.

Otherwise Sirius made her heart beat faster, makes it jump in joy or stop beating for a few seconds in love. But now her heart felt more like it was made of a thousand sharp pieces of glass. Broken like the glass on the wall. Broken like their relationship due to a lack of trust from his side.

(Y/N) wanted nothing more than to hide under her blanket, cry and not get up for a long time.

But she felt too weak to get up and go to bed. So she sat on the floor and kept crying into her legs.

[fefipranon]

Rivamika Fic Preview

Topic: Mikasa, a hardcore feminist, kidnapped by Levi, the leader of one of the most powerful gangs and who is the book definition of a dick.

Mikasa Point of View (P.O.V.)

Here I am, another restless night. Turning on my bed like a hamburger patty being flipped on a grill, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep. I can hear birds chirping outside so it's probably already morning but my thick light-blocking curtains make my room look as dark as night. Whoever invented those, has a special place in my lazy heart.

I started hearing shuffling sounds outside the door of my room. These two have no sense of self-preservation, I thought. My two roommates, Eren and Armin, have been living with me for a year now. I met them ten years ago, starting my teenage years, a tragic event brought us together. Since 'that event', Eren's parents took me in as their own and he introduced me to Armin, his best friend since childhood.

We are inseparable, even now as adults. Even though Armin works as an accountant for a law firm, I work as a Computer Engineer for the CIA, and Eren works as a veterinarian, when we are together, we still act like silly kids. I love them like siblings love each other, which means that we also fight like siblings, and right now they are breaking a golden rule.

You see, I love them. I would give my life without a second thought for them, but, there is something I love more: my bed. I can be a charming and decent person, AFTER my morning coffee, and AFTER I wake up on my own. If anyone dares to wake me up from my precious sleep, there will be hell to pay. I am not a morning person, who is it really? Those who said they are, are not to be trusted, they are probably psychopaths and serial killers. I also don't trust people that don't like cheese, how could you not like cheese?! They are probably part of those reptilian people that conspiracy theories warn you about from alien abductions and shit.

I heard Armin's voice, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

I walked to the door to better listen to their conversation.

"She promised to join us for our traditional 'Sunday pancakes' today since she has failed to wake up early for the last four Sundays in a row! It's her fault!", Eren said.

"You know she is not a morning person! She will kill both of us!", Armin said.

I saw the bolt of the door shaking. Eren was clearly picking the lock from my room. He really has a death wish. I stared around my room looking for ideas on how to greet him, and my eyes landed on my hamper which was almost full of my dirty clothes. I walked to it and grabbed two dirty socks and rolled them together in a ball.

"You can still run away and save yourself.", Eren said.

"I will just stay out of her room, and watch how she kills you while eating popcorn then."

No Armin, you are going to get it too since you are not stopping him, I thought. Then, I heard the beep sound from the microwave. He really made popcorn, unbelievable. I rested my back against the wall next to my door, waiting for their intrusion.

"Do you even know how to pick a lock?", Armin asked.

"I've seen it in movies, they open everything with bobby pins on those spy movies so, how hard can it be?", Eren said.

I pinched the bridge of my nose thinking, he can't be serious. But knowing the bastard, he probably was, and I didn't have the patience to wait for him to finally open my door. So I opened it myself.

He looked at me in shock and said, "Mika-"

But I cut him short by shoving to his open mouth the ball of dirty socks. Armin was on the way to the microwave and yelped at the sight of Eren spitting the dirty socks from his mouth and coughing. I gave him a death stare and yelled:

"You are next!"

"Fuck no!", He yelled as he ran to his room with me running behind him.

He got into his room and closed the door before I could get to him.

With a sing-song voice, I said, "Oh, Armiiin, open the door now and I might forgive youuu."

"Bullshit! I will only open the door after you have your morning coffee!"

Suddenly, the smell of popcorn hit my nose making me smile. Armin never got to get his popcorn out of the microwave. He and I have this unhealthy addiction to popcorn for years now. I mean, who doesn't like popcorn? Those are other types of people I don't trust.

I walked to the microwave and took the popcorn out. I grabbed a fan and pointed it directly to the door of his room. I opened the bag and started eating in front of the fan. He will smell it eventually.

"That's a low blow, stinky feet!", Eren said.

"Is that!? Are you eating MY popcorn!!?", Armin shouted.

"Mmm delicious and extra buttery. Thanks for making popcorn for ME, you are so considerate. You shouldn't have-", I was cut short by Armin slamming his door open and running towards me.

I started running away but he tackled me, making me drop the bag causing the popcorn to fly out, "Give me back my popcorn you thief!", he shouted.

"Did you stuck your socks inside somebody's ass?! This smell is not human!", Eren shouted.

Ignoring Eren, I shouted to Armin, "No! I'll take it as a peace offering apology from you two for waking me up!", while we both struggled to get the bag making a mess of popcorn all around the apartment in the process.

Armin managed to run away while Eren grabbed me and tried to get the dirty socks into my mouth when someone knocked at our door.

We all froze, Armin stared at both of us and asked, "Are any of you expecting someone?"

We both shook our heads in response. I ran to my room to get my gun, Eren did the same while Armin watched the door and grabbed the gun we stored in the kitchen for emergencies.

I immediately started thinking of all the possible threats that could be behind our front door. This is all Eren's fault, I thought.

You see... I was deemed a 'child prodigy' at a young age. I started college at the age of 12, my studies were disrupted for a couple of years when 'that event' happened. Later I resumed my studies and by the age of 18, I already had a bachelor's degree in computer engineering. I joined a couple of hacktivist groups and helped them with the usual stuff: DDoS attacks to government websites, machine learning algorithms to find patterns in social media of government bot accounts, you know, the usual stuff.

One day Eren challenged me to hack into the CIA so I started with a social media scan looking for stupid people that post their work information, I just needed someone with access to the building. In summary, after finding a few victims I did a MITM attack on their phones and computers. From there I got access to the network, installed a backdoor, and had access to everything. I did a similar process to gain access to other intelligence agencies' networks from different countries.

Since we were broke at the time, I did ransomware of the data but instead of money, I asked for a job and immunity for the crime. I also sent them part of a list of vulnerabilities in their system and told them that if they wanted the full list they had to comply with my demands. Since I was already deep in trouble I decided to also give them evidence of the access I gained to other countries' intelligence networks. Not even an hour passed by, and they were already begging me to take the job.

Thinking of who could be behind my front door right now, I thought about the time I got access to the Russian 'Federal Security Service' agency and replaced their data with, well, some 'not-so-innocent' pictures. I think Putin hates me. There is also what I did to the North Korean Reconnaissance General Bureau agency... I think Fluffy Kim hates me too.

None of it would've happened if Eren didn't challenge me in the first place! It's completely his fault!

I got out of my train of thought when we were back at the door and Eren asked us, "Ready?"

We nodded in response, and Eren slowly opened the door.

He quickly pointed the gun at the unexpected visitor who was... An innocent girl scout who was trying to sell cookies.

The kid yelped scared, but Eren quickly hid the gun and said, "Oh, we don't want cookies."

"I want cookies!", I protested and pushed Eren away from the door.

"Order for me too!", Armin said.

Author P.O.V.

After getting their girl scouts cookies, Eren started making pancakes while Armin and Mikasa sat in seat stools behind the small kitchen island facing him. They had popcorn on their messy hair, and on their clothes. "You two better clean the mess you made!", Eren shouted.

"It was Armin's fault!", Mikasa shouted while Armin gave her a death stare.

Eren started to stick his tongue out while making disgusted faces.

"What's the problem Eren? Are you having a stroke?", Mikasa said teasingly.

"For fucks sake Mikasa! I have washed my mouth around five times already and I can still smell your stinky socks! Those things are a hazard!", Eren said while walking away to the bathroom to wash his mouth again.

"The pancakes are going to burn!", Mikasa shouted.

"You take care of them, stinky feet! I am on my way to drink some bleach!", Eren shouted back.

Mikasa rolled her eyes and walked to the stove while Armin stood up to turn on the television. While flipping the pancakes Mikasa took a look at her phone notifications and messages. She started looking through the messages from her girlfriend's group chat:

Sasha: OMG! I just saw the cutest guy ever!

Annie: Did you banged it already? 👉👌🍆

Sasha: I wish! I don't even know how to talk to him yet!

Christa: Where did you saw him?

Sasha: He works at a new bookstore that opened near my apartment.

Christa: Did you tried to talk to him somehow? Or just stared at him like a mentally unstable stalker?

Sasha: Well, I asked for book recommendations, he started asking me about what I liked so he could give me a more accurate one but the dick of his boss cut him off telling him to go back to the cash register.

Annie: Maybe we should meet up for lunch to come up with a plan.

Ymir: I just saw that I have new messages. I tried to read them all but my lazy ass just read 'cute guy' and 'bang it already' and skipped to the end. I am up for lunch and the 'banging plan'. Speaking of people in need of banging, @Mikasa wake your ass and join us!

Annie: 😂😂

Mikasa rolled her eyes and replied:

Mikasa: I am awake, count me in for lunch, and the 'banging plan'.

Christa: Girls, call the police, that is not Mikasa, that's an impostor! There is no way that woman is awake this early!

Mikasa sighed and typed,

Mikasa: Eren woke me up, putting his life on the line.

Suddenly Eren's phone made the sound of a new message notification. Mikasa rolled her eyes and thought, here we go.

Eren grabbed his phone, unlocked it, stared at his messages, and started laughing. "Sasha just asked me if you are okay because you are awake. She wants to know if it's really you before calling the police. She also wants to know if I am still alive."

"Hey guys check this out.", Armin said while turning up the volume of the TV.

The news was on. Mikasa served the pancakes on the plates. She took two of the plates and gave one to Armin while sitting next to him. Eren grabbed his plate and sat next to Mikasa. The three of them were seated on the sofa in front of the TV watching the news.

Breaking News:

'We are reporting live outside of Mitra's bank. Just moments ago, criminals robbed the bank and took three hostages with them. The police are tracking their whereabouts at the moment, avoid the area. The perpetrators' identity has been confirmed as the gang that calls themselves "The Scorpions". They are commonly identified with a Scorpion tattoo on their necks, reach out to the police if you see anyone suspicious.'

"These guys again, they piss me off.", Mikasa said.

"They are the same ones that robbed one of the stores of the mall right?", Armin asked.

"Yes, those assholes take hostages with them but they end up always killing them.", Eren said.

"That's the gang that posts the videos about they killing the hostages like is some sort of sick hunting game?", Armin asked.

"Yes, they take the victim to a secluded wood area and tell the victim to run, after a minute or so they run after the victim to kill it, recording the whole thing.", Eren said.

"That's sick.", Mikasa said.

"That's why they are one of the most feared and powerful gangs around.", Eren said.

"It doesn't make sense, the tattoo I mean, who would be so stupid to get a tattoo that clearly dictates that you are a criminal? Why have the police not caught them yet if they have a fucking mark on their necks screaming I'm the killer?", Mikasa said.

Suddenly Eren's phone made the notification sound again. "Oi, Mikasa, Dad wants to meet with us today for dinner, he is in the area."

"Tell him to pick us up then.", Mikasa replied.

-----

Mikasa P.O.V.

I arrived at the restaurant where the girls planned to meet for lunch. As I was walking from the parking area to the restaurant I felt the unease sensation that someone was following me. I've been feeling this for two weeks now. Even though I have gained many enemies by my hacking 'activities', and I joke about Putin or someone else knocking on my door, the reality is that it's highly unlikely that they know my identity. I didn't use my network, on top of it I used nested VPNs mixed with virtual machines with an eastern VPN added on top. Even though the probability of them knowing my identity is almost zero, my job provided me with an apartment in the most secured area in town plus extra police patrols around the building. But, of course, you can never be too cautious, so I always assumed the worst.

I took my phone out and texted my boss: "Activating precaution protocol."

Almost instantly he replied: "I will be on the lookout."

My boss, Pixis, has been very overprotective of me since I started working for the CIA. Since the first day that I arrived at the office and introduced myself, he personally asked to work with me. He was impressed by the stunt I pulled and introduced me to everyone on his team like I was some sort of Messiah sent by Thor itself from the land of Narnia. But not everyone reacted the same way he did when he saw me. It seemed like I wasn't what they were expecting to see since I do not fulfill the stereotype of a programmer. I am not a gamer, I am a ballerina, and what seems to be the worst of all to them is that I am a woman.

The biggest fear of a male chauvinist pig is a woman with confidence having success on a field dominated by men. When will they understand that women can do everything men do while even wearing high heels?

Ever since college, I've heard crap like:

"She probably slept her way in."

"Too pretty to be a programmer."

"A woman in my team? She will probably end up making us do all her work."

"She will probably need to be trained in the most basic crap. She doesn't look like she even knows how to do basic programming."

It's exhausting being a woman, why do we have to put double the effort to at least be noticed or recognized? When will they stop calling us 'emotional' or 'bossy', and start calling us instead 'passionate' and 'leaders'? We intimidate them because they can't control us and they know we have the potential to kick their asses.

I was snapped out of my mental rant when I received another text message from my boss: "Location received. As always, call me if you need to talk."

Good, from now on, until I turn it off, my boss will have a constant live feed of my location using my phone's GPS. Also, in case of emergency, I only have to press twice my phone's power button and in a matter of minutes the police, FBI, and the SWAT team will arrive at my location ready to get rid of any threat.

I can relax now, I thought as I opened the door of the restaurant and met my friends.

"Mikasa! We are here!", Sasha shouted while shaking an arm up to get my attention.

I sat at the table and grabbed the menu, the waiter was already taking the orders so I ordered the first thing I saw that was to my liking. Then I took out from my purse a box of girl scout cookies that I bought for Sasha and gave it to her.

She yelped excitedly and said, "This is why I love you!" while hugging the box.

"So, we've been booked for three schools next week.", Christa said.

Christa was referring to a feminist organization we all created that focuses on motivating girls to pursue a college degree, especially in fields dominated by men.

"I think that it's the most we've had in a week so far!", I said.

"Yes, people are helping by sharing our social media accounts. I have messages of people who want to join us.", Ymir said.

"We should hold a meeting for newcomers, we are going to need more people eventually anyways.", I said, and Ymir nodded.

"So Sasha, what do you have in mind so far to talk to your cute guy?", Annie asked.

"I have no idea, someone needs to distract the manager of the library so he doesn't interrupt us again.", Sasha said.

"Who volunteers as a tribute?", Ymir asked.

"Is the manager at least cute?", Annie asked.

"He was hot but had this unapproachable vibe, and on top of that, a jerk.", Sasha said.

"In that case, I offer Mikasa as a tribute.", Annie said.

"What!? Why me?!", I shouted.

"Because you never get intimidated or scared, and you always speak your mind. That personality is the greatest weakness of self-absorbed jerks.", Annie said.

I stared at her in disbelief while Sasha yelped excited looking at her cellphone.

"Girls! The package arrived! Just received the amazon notification.", Sasha said.

All of them gave me a devilish smile, confusing me, I asked, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Mikasa, this is an intervention.", Christa said with a serious tone.

"We've noticed that you've been grumpier than usual. We also know that you haven't, well, how do I put this?", Ymir said.

"You haven't had a good fuck in a while!", Annie shouted.

I wanted the earth to swallow me whole right there. Annie said that a little too loud for my liking.

"Where are you going with this?", I asked.

"Well, we bought you a little something to help you deal with, you know, the grumpiness. It just arrived at your door.", Sasha said.

"Are you crazy! You know I live with Eren and Armin!", I said.

"Come on is just a package in your name, they are not going to open it.", Annie said.

"You definitely don't know Eren.", I said in disbelief.

When we finished eating I rushed to my car and drove as fast as I could to my apartment. I ran to the elevator and then ran to my apartment's door. The package wasn't there. I panicked and opened the door and saw Eren about to open it. I ran and tackled him making us both fall to the floor.

"What the fuck Mikasa!", He shouted.

"Why were you trying to open MY package?!", I shouted back.

"Because it could be something dangerous sent from one of your enemies, like Fluffy Kim for example.", Eren said.

"Why would Fluffy Kim send me something life-threatening via AMAZON!?"

"I don't know! Amazon sells some weird shit and they ship from all around the world, I am pretty sure North Korea is included."

I gave him a death stare, snatched the package, and went to my room closing the door behind me.

I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. I opened the package and found the box of a pink glow-in-the-dark vibrator. I grabbed my phone and wrote in the group chat:

Mikasa: Got the 'package'.

I put the phone down and opened the box. The thing brought batteries and had a little plastic paper that said, "pull here". I think is to protect the device from direct contact with the batteries, I thought.

I pulled the damned paper and the thing started having an epileptic attack. That thing had a demon inside and I didn't know how to do a fucking exorcism! Scared of it, I screamed and dropped it to the floor.

Apparently, Eren heard my scream because he shouted, "I knew it! I am not letting you kill her Fluffy Kim!" while slamming open the door of my room.

I panicked and jumped on top of the frantic thing that looked like it was break dancing on the floor, to hide it.

"What happened?!", Eren asked me.

"Nothing! Get out!", I shouted, trying to stop the damned thing from moving. It felt like I was riding one of those mechanic bulls.

"You screamed! Something happened!!", Eren shouted worriedly.

"What's all the fuss about?", Armin appeared.

"Fluffy Kim sent something dangerous from Amazon to Mikasa!", Eren shouted.

"Fluffy Kim didn't send me shit! Get out!", I said giving a pleading look to Armin.

He got my message and pulled Eren by the back of his shirt, out of my room, and closed the door. I took a deep breath and found the button to turn that demonic thing off. I checked my phone again and read the messages:

Sasha: Yay! You have to name it!

Annie: She's right! Put a name on it!

Mikasa: The thing tried to kill me! I literally just pulled out a piece of paper from it and the thing started to have a panic attack!

Annie: 😂😂

Christa: You can control the intensity, check the instructions! But first, name it!

Ymir: It has to be a sexy name.

I rolled my eyes knowing that they won't drop the subject until I give the thing a name.

Mikasa: Any suggestions?

Sasha: Just think of something that turns you on. 🔥🔥

Something that turns me on, something sexy, I thought as my mind went blank. I started looking around my room. I had a stack of letters and spam stacked on top of my nightstand. I sighed and went through it, I stopped at a promotional flyer for men's underwear. It had a couple of men modeling the underwear. This could work, I thought.

Mikasa: I found a flyer of men's underwear, the models are kind of hot.

Annie: You are messing with us right? 🤦

Sasha: Hold on, she might be onto something. What's the name of the brand?

Mikasa: Levi's, I like it, I will call it Levi.

Christa: 🥳🥳 Now, it's time to let Levi give you a good time!! 🥳

Mikasa: 🤦

I put my phone down and stared at, well, the Levi thing. I still have a couple of hours until dinner, how do I start? Porn? I thought making my mind go into another rant.

Another industry dominated by men, made for men: the porn industry. They try to sell a ridiculous idea of what 'good' sex is supposed to be. They show a man sticking his penis in a woman's vagina with little to no foreplay time. After that, they start going ridiculously fast, like the world is about to end, and start changing the poor woman to different positions like she is some kind of rag doll. They do all of this while ignoring the most important thing: the clitoris. If the poor thing could talk it would scream something around the lines of:

"I'm fucking bored dude!"

"She is faking it!"

"Feeling nothing bro!"

"If I would describe this whole experience with you, I would use the forever-alone meme!"

I locked the door and grabbed the thing, "Let's see, please don't kill me."

-----2 hours later-----

Mikasa: Levi, oooooh Leviiiii!!!!

Annie: 😂😂

Sasha: 🥳🥳🍆🍆🥳🥳

Christa: 😎🔥

Ymir: 💥💦

--------

Author P.O.V.

"Mikasa, are you ready? Dad is already here!", Eren shouted.

"Yes!", Mikasa said, opening the door of her room ready to go.

"Well, someone is in a good mood.", Eren said while raising a brow.

Ignoring his comment Mikasa said, "Let's go, we don't want to make Grisha wait."

"You are right, Dad has texted me like 5 times already since he arrived.", Eren answered.

They took the elevator down and walked by the building lobby. Eren looked at the security guard and said, "That's a new guard right?"

"Yes, he arrived around two weeks ago.", Mikasa responded.

They went out of the building where Grisha, Eren's dad, was waiting for them inside his car.

"We have to make a quick stop at the bank first.", Grisha said.

Mikasa groaned in protest and said, "You know that nowadays you can do mostly all bank stuff through the internet right? I can teach you."

"I need to speak with a manager, is an account that locked me out and they told me to go to the bank directly. It will be quick.", Grisha explained.

"Why do old people avoid using technology?", Mikasa whispered to Eren.

"I heard that!", Grisha said.

They arrived at the bank and Grisha took a piece of paper and started to fill it out with his account information. He told Mikasa and Eren to start making the line for him. He finished filling up his account information and walked to the spot they were in the line.

"I'm hungry, they look like the Zootopia sloths.", Eren said looking at the bank employees.

Suddenly, a loud sound was heard that shook the whole building. Grisha jumped on top of Mikasa and Eren throwing them to the floor. Smoke was coming from everywhere. A huge truck had collided with the bank's main entrance, making a hole. In an instant, a bunch of men with guns, wearing hoodies, and a clown mask entered the building.

"Hands up! And sit on the floor now!", one of them commanded.

Mikasa P.O.V.

Grisha sat on the floor hugging me, and Eren sat in front of me protectively. A couple of the men grabbed an employee and went through a door. After a minute they started going out with black bags. I remembered that I still had my GPS location shared with my boss since lunch. I grabbed my phone and double-clicked the power button, it was programmed to send a high-priority emergency signal to different agencies. I hid my cellphone, pinching it with the inside border of my jeans and pulling my shirt over it. At that moment, one of the men was walking in front of all of us. He was staring at each one of us on the floor.

Eren was covering me with his body when the man said, "You, move!", to him.

Trying to still cover me Eren asked, "Where?"

The man moved closer to him and said, "To the side, now!", and pointed the gun at his head.

Eren hesitated for a moment but then he moved. I was looking to the floor avoiding the man's gaze, hoping that it had the same effect as when a teacher asks a question in a classroom and you avoid making eye contact in hope that he doesn't pick you to answer.

I saw him with the corner of my eye as he lowered the gun and tilted his head. It seemed as he was confused for a moment.

Grisha tightened his hold on me and I saw the man pointing his gun again.

"You!", he said.

I felt a cold metal being pressed against my forehead. When I lifted my gaze I was staring down the barrel of a Walter Q5 Match Semi-auto pistol, held by a man who had... a scorpion tattoo on his neck and grey eyes.

"You are coming with me."

-----------

Want to know what happens next? Check the rest of the story here: 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27557422/chapters/67401547

or in Wattpad:

https://www.wattpad.com/980985373-saved-by-deception-encounter

[topazy]

The Fierce And Broken

2.04

Masterlist

“You found me then.”

Murphy nodded and sunk down to the ground next to you. It had seemed like a good idea to hide out in the library, it was closed off and you assumed nobody would look for you there. But you had forgotten that nobody knew you the way John Murphy does.

Murphy frowned seeing you so upset. “What’s going on Alba? You have been acting strange for weeks.”

You shook your head and wiped away fallen tears as he contained to stare. You took a couple deep breaths before finally being able to speak, “it’s nothing...I’m just being stupid.”

“You’re not stupid Al, and thats the problem.” Murphy put his arm around your shoulder, “who’s ass do I need to kick for this?”

His comment made you chuckle, “no one.” You wiped away more tears before smiling into his hug. “I just feel so tired always pretending, you know? And I don’t know how to make it right. I just feel broken.”

Murphy brushed a strand of hair out of your face, you could see the look of concern on his face. “What do you mean by broken?”

“I just-” You struggled to find the words to express how you were feeling. “I look at girls John.”

“So?” He scoffed, obviously not understanding what you were getting at.

“No I mean I look at girls. I look at them the same way I should look at boys...” Pausing you thought about your next choice of words, “I like girls.”

Murphy placed a soft kiss to your cheek he had been stroking a moment previously. “Yeah girls are pretty hot.”

You smiled into his embrace. John was the only person you had worried about treating you differently when you realised that you had started to get crushed on girls, but the truth was he didn’t care. And you’d never been so grateful he was your friend.

You woke to the sounds of a woman yelling, “I need a saline and a pressure dressing. I’m going to need to check her hip bones in a moment.”

“I’m on it.”

You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the harsh light of the room. Doctor Griffin was leaning over you, she smiled when she noticed you waking up. “You gave us quite a scare, I’m glad to see you awake Y/N.”

“Where am I?” You asked groggily.

“Camp Jaha,” another voice said.

Facing the doorway you could see Octavia smiling as walked towards you, with her arms stretching out. She pulled you into a tight hug. “You had me so worried Al! I thought you had died.”

You held onto her tightly, “me? I thought the blast from the rocket had got you.” Pulling back from the hug you whined at the sharp pain in your arm. “Oh Jesus, I did forget about the pain.”

“Careful, you’ll end up pulling your IV out.” Jackson said, before explaining he needed to dress a deeper cut on your back. You nodded for him to start and don’t your best not to cry as the feeling of nippiness started to spread across your bare skin.

Octavia squeezed your hand. “Clarke told us what happened. The mountain men...how they are taking bone marrow and blood from us and grounders, from you.”

“Some of our people are still in there.” You paused for a moment to try and think about what else happened, “Anya is dead. She was going to set up a meeting with us and her commander, but she’s gone.”

Octavia kneeled down to your level. “Hey, we still have a chance.” She squeezed your hands again, “you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to come in and see you. I know Murphy will be thrilled when he knows you are awake.”

“Murphy?” You asked confused, after hanging Bellamy and shooting Raven you thought he would have been banished again. God, Raven. “Murphy is still in camp? And Raven’s alive?”

“He sure is, and Raven is alive and waiting to see you.” Once Jackson was finished Octavia leaned in closer to you, “I’m glad I caught you before I left.”

“Where are you going?”

Octavia watched to make sure nobody else was paying attention to your conversation. “Raven is turning the electric fence off so me Bellamy, and Clarke can leave-” she stopped talking when Abby walked back into the room. “Murphy and Finn are actually out looking for our people now.”

You played along so Abby wouldn’t grow suspicious. Octavia shared a knowing look with you, the thought of her going out into the wild scared but you knew Bellamy would keep her safe. You mouthed ‘be careful’ before she left.

“So,” Abby said, stepping in front of you with a smile. “We are going to look at your hip once Jackson is back, I’ll need to check for any signs of infection. I’m honestly surprised you managed to walk that far considering what was done to you.”

“Clarke helped,” you shrugged. A look of pride spread across the older woman's face. Clarke wasn’t your favourite person but she did save you from drowning, “Anya also helped. She saved me and Clarke a couple of times...what they are doing to the grounders is worse than what’s happening to us, to me. It’s barbaric.”

Abby gave you a sympathetic smile as Jackson entered the room. You dropped the subject and leaned back into the table.

—

Groaning you sat up, your original plan was to go look for your friends but between the pain and sleep deprivation you had nodded off. Sighing you looked around the room for your clothes but couldn’t see them. The gown you were wearing wasn’t exactly practical.

Opening the door to the hallway you looked around for anybody that could help but it was empty. Hearing footsteps you decided to walk in that direction when you heard Abby’s voice.

“Did you know about this?”

“No.”

You recognised the other voice instantly and smiled. It was Raven.

“Tell me where they went and you won't be in trouble.” The aggression in Abby's voice surprised you, she had always been so nice when you had previously met her.

“Abby, I...”

“Someone let them through the fence. Someone gave them guns.”

Oh shit. It’s finally clicked, Abby knows Raven helped her daughter and the others escape. You walked as fast your body allowed you to before finding the door to the room they were in. You caught your breath before opening the door.

“I don’t know what you’re talk-”

You let out a gasp as you opened the door and saw Abby slapping Raven across the face. What the fuck. Abby stepped back from the brunette, “She thinks that because of what she's been through she's changed, but she's still just a kid.”

“You’re wrong, Abby. She stopped being a kid the day you sent her down here to die.”

Abby finally noticed you standing at the doorway and cleared her throat before giving you a fake smile, she obviously didn’t think you had seen. “Y/N, how are you holding up?”

As she spoke Raven turned around to face you, and you could see the red mark on her cheek. It took everything inside you not to curse the doctor out for hurting Raven. “Uh,” you knew from the look your friend was giving you she didn’t want you to say anything. “I don’t know where my clothes are.”

“Oh of course,” Abby clasped her hands together. “Octavia took them earlier and I’m afraid she didn’t tell me where they were placed, and she’s busy at the moment. I can-”

“I have spare clothes Alba can wear until we find hers,” Raven said quietly.

Abby nodded and exited the room, once you were alone you pulled Raven into a hug. You were afraid to say anything knowing that your voice would break. You were concentrating so hard on not crying that you didn’t notice the leg brace Raven had on until you stepped back.

Raven gave you a soft smile before, “I thought you were goner Al.”

“Likewise,” you moved to get a better look at her cheek. “I can’t believe she hit you.”

“It’s fine Alba, I don’t care about it. What I care about is your back.”

For the first time since being taken by the mountain men you didn’t feel that everything was doomed, knowing that two of your friends were safe was enough to bring a little bit of light back into the darkness.

“Come on, let’s get you out of that horrendous gown.”

—

“I can’t believe you are staying in a tent, they should have found you a room inside. If not because of your leg then at least because of all the work you do for them.”

Raven laughed at the comment as she handed you clothes. You ripped the gown off and happily threw it to the ground and shimmed into a pair of dark jeans and pulled on a clean top. Opening your mouth to thank Raven again you noticed the way she was staring down at her leg. You sat down on the bed next to her, “Reyes?”

You could see her lip trembling as she glanced up, “I have nerve damage from the gunshot.”

“I’m so sorry Raven, I swear I’m going to kill Murphy when I get my hands on him.” It still didn’t feel real to me that Murphy was capable of hurting someone that much. “Whatever you need I’ll be at your beck and call.”

“Careful you might regret saying that one day,” she chuckled. Raven’s smile faded when she focused at your waist, the brunette placed her hand by your bruised hip. You hadn’t noticed the top was ruffled up at one side, her fingers lightly rubbed against the top of your bruise. “What happened Al?”

You shrugged, “It’s a little fuzzy. The last thing I remember is injecting you with coagulant, Anya tried to kill us, then we blasted off.”

“Then the mountain men came.”

“Yeah they came and took most of us. I’m glad I got out but I still feel guilty for not trying to convince others to leave with us.”

Raven gave you a sympathetic smile. “Don’t do that Al, don’t punish yourself for the pain somebody else has caused.”

You were lost for words, Raven made basic sentences sound so poetic.

“What-what did they do to you in Mount weather?”

“I remember a horrible drilling noise, then waking up to a man called Dante Wallace leaning over me. He told me some bullshit then I escaped with Clarke shortly after.”

Raven looked unimpressed, “that’s it? I want to know everything that happened.”

Nodding you began explaining the full story of how you escaped, you tried your best not to laugh as Raven’s facial expressions that kept changing. She seemed particularly interested in how you got every deep cut and bruise. “I hope Clarke manages to convince the commander to agree to a truce.”

“I hope so.” You shuffled further back onto the bed so you could lie down. Raven gave you an amused look as you made yourself more comfortable, then It dawned on you that this wasn’t your tent. “Fancy having a roommate Reyes? At least until I get my own tent.”

She grinned before laying down next to you on the small bed, “I think that could work.”

There were still so many things you wanted to discuss with Raven but it wasn’t the right time. It was still daylight outside but you were both exhausted. You couldn’t stop yawning, and could tell how strained your friend was. Raven had heavy bags underneath her eyes most likely caused by stress of her leg injury. You wished more than anything you could take that pain away from her. Her ‘get on with it’ attitude amazed you considering the situation she was in.

Even if it was impossible for you to physically take her pain away, you could always try and distract her. “Reyes?”

“Hmm?”

“What's it like to spacewalk?”

[thran-duils]

Use All of Me (P.11)

Title: Use All Of Me (Part Eleven) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Steve Rogers. The Avengers are heroes saving the world but in this AU, they are also permitted by the powers in charge to have less than favorable business underneath their guise of mere superheroes. Steve and Tony are at the helm, keeping their empire’s wealth in check, both devious and perilous if crossed. Steve takes a liking to the reader at a party and it may be her undoing to her autonomy choosing to go home with him. Words: 2,711 Warnings: Dark AF, angst, emotional/mental abuse, smut, breeding, death Author’s Note: As some of my midwest friends have poked fun at, a freeway to me is an interstate, like I5 and I90. A highway to me refers to state routes or highways with stop lights along it at certain spots. I know it’s not a huge deal but I like to explain cause it’s definitely regional and sets the scene of what I am thinking of when I’m writing.

Part Ten || Part Twelve || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

“I need somebody, ANYBODY, to get in a car or something and get to Grand Central terminal right now.”

Steve was on multiple way call with the team that answered the phone, sitting in the passenger seat while Natasha sped down the freeway. Tony had separated from them, heading towards the Avengers facility where he could have more cameras which gave him more eyes. Facial recognition was granted at the facility grounds on a larger scale of satellites too unlike his house.

“You wanna tell us what for?” Rhodes asked perplexed.

“Y/N left,” Steve snapped. There was a chorus of murmurs from all ends of the phone call, generally ignored by Steve who was too hot headed to acknowledge their concern. “I don’t know where the hell she is going. But Nat heard her whispering to her friend in the bathroom about taking a train. To god knows where.

“Do we know it’s going to be Grand Central?” Sam inquired calmly.

“No, not for sure! But I want it covered. As soon as possible! They got a half hour head start or so from my house. Nat and I are going to Penn. That’s where the Amtrak is. Tony’s accessing surveillance, using facial recognition.

“What do you want us to do if we find her?” Bucky asked.

“Don’t hurt her,” Steve ordered.

“Well, no shit,” Bucky cut in, unable to hold back his sarcasm. “I meant, where do you want us to—”

“She’s with one – or two, I’m not sure – of her friends,” Steve interrupted, strained. “Try to make it as quiet as possible. I don’t want it all over the evening news. Just—get Y/N away from there.”

“What about her friends?” Clint pointed out.

“I’ll deal with them later,” Steve got out in a surly tone. “Call me if you find her.”

<><><>

You laid across the backseat of the car, examining your nails.

“I really don’t like you having no seatbelt on,” Natalie said for what felt like the tenth time since you had escaped past the gate of your house.

“I’ll sit up when my back hurts,” you responded, stretching one of your legs as far as you could towards the ceiling. You grunted when you felt a pull in your lower abdomen.

“We are out of the gate, Y/N. And away from cameras. We are on a highway.”

“There are still cameras. But I know. It’s been like an hour.”

You were tingling with anticipation, threatening to eat you alive. You half expected Natalie to slam on her brakes at any seconds because Steve landed in front of the car in the lane. You doubted though he would want to put you in danger and that could cause a huge accident.

Would not want to hurt his precious cargo, you thought to yourself darkly.

Yua sighed from the passenger seat and looked back at you around the seat. She had decided to come with the pair of you and had been filled in on the situation after you had successfully gotten through the gate. You almost snorted at the absurdity of the fact all you had to do was wear a hood and one of Steve’s baseball caps to shield your face and make sure to not make eye contact with the guards meandering around the gate. Holding the backpack in your lap had helped to hide your stomach.

“Y/N. Sit up. Please. Stop making Natalie get worry lines, it’s starting to stress me out. It’s not like they won’t be looking for Natalie’s plates in the cameras if they have access outside of New York.” You were sure Tony did. His company was worldwide. “I don’t think them seeing your face is going to make any difference. They saw you get in the car on the surveillance tapes at your house by now.”

You exhaled heavily, knowing she was right. You imagined Steve seeing the tapes and turning around to tear a door of his hinges, hurling it across the room. You would laugh at the imagery if it did not simultaneously terrify you. Sitting up with some difficulty, you patted Natalie’s shoulder who thanked you.

The two of them had turned their phones off – you had left yours behind. You were sure Tony would figure out how to track theirs but yours was definitely compromised. You did not even want it on you, choosing to leave it on the entrance table by the front door.

It was scary. You could not stop thinking about how angry Steve would be – was. It was present tense now for sure. He had to have figured out you were missing by now. Otherwise, Wanda, Bryce, and Patricia were completely inept, which you knew was not the case.

Staring out the window, you watched the trees go by trying to think about the nature walks you could go on without watchful eyes around the cabin. It lulled you into some sense of relaxation.

<><><>

Steve stormed through the terminal, his eyes watchful on the crowd for anything that screamed Y/N from behind or a profile. His eyes zeroed in on the back of a woman’s head and he changed course quickly, coming up to her, shoving his way through the crowd much to some people’s annoyance at being shoved aside. He grabbed her arm and whipped her around when he was on her.

She cried out in half fear and half pain.

It was not Y/N.

“Sorry,” he said not sounding sorry at all. “Thought you were someone else.”

She glared at him, rubbing her arm. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Steve bit back a comment, turning from her without a word.

“Hey, aren’t you Captain America?” someone asked him from a few feet away. That caught the woman’s attention, as well as others.

Steve shot the kid an annoyed look and said clipped, “Not right now, kid. Sorry. I’m busy.”

He took off again before anyone could say anything else, god forbid ask him for an autograph or a selfie. His heart was hammering, searching desperately. He came to a stop, staring out over the crowd. Hope she was here was dwindling fast. He felt like his chest was going to explode from the myriad of feelings coursing through him right now.

I’m not seeing her, Natasha texted him. He had sent her the opposite way from him, telling her to check the female bathrooms that direction. He was getting similar texts from the group at Grand Central too and he could not stand to look at his phone anymore, shoving it into his back pocket furiously.

He ran his hand through his hair, tugging on it near the ends in frustration. He took one more stroll down the terminal, scouring it to make sure he had not missed her. Natasha appeared and without a word went into the bathrooms to cover her bases.

When she appeared again, she was empty handed. She approached him slowly, with caution, his gaze burning into her.

“I shouldn’t have left the house,” Natasha said, shaking her head. She looked disappointed and guilty.

“You couldn’t have known it was going to be right then,” Steve said tightly. He had little patience for coddling someone else’s feelings right now but extended the gesture briefly because it was Nat. His face hardened, shaking his head slightly. “I’m gonna tell them I’m heading home to speak to that bumbling idiot I call my security guard.”

<><><>

Natasha had barely got the car into park before Steve threw the door open and made a beeline for the front door of his house. The door bounced off the wall with the sheer force he threw it open with. Natasha followed him, far more collected. She grabbed the door, closing it, eyeing the hole the doorhandle had made into the wall. She shook her head before following Steve towards the living room.

Bryce stood up from the couch on sight seeing Steve. Wanda did as well, far less stricken looking than Bryce though. She looked concerned.

“Did you—” she started to ask Steve, but he cut her off, all his rage radiating towards Bryce as he stormed in.

“How the fuck did you let this happen?” Steve roared at Bryce.

“The front gate didn’t catch her—” Bryce tried to pass the buck onto the other men, but Steve was not having an ounce of it.

He was towering over Bryce now, Bryce trying to not fold in Steve’s shadow. “I don’t care about the front gate! She shouldn’t have even been able to get into the car!”

Blubbering, Bryce tried to say, “There were a lot of women, Mr. Rogers. She was starting to say goodbye to them all—”

“You didn’t think to be outside? To keep an eye on her? Not even for a second? That didn’t cross your mind?”

“I didn’t expect her to leave.”

“Now that—” Steve snarled, pointing threateningly in Bryce’s face, causing him to flinch. “I find to be an egregious lie!”

“S-s-sir?”

Steve moved closer if that was possible, his nose inches from Bryce’s. Bryce visibly gulped, trying to not break eye contact with him. Steve’s voice was dangerously low, “Do you have something to tell me, Bryce?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

“Bryce. I am giving you one chance to be honest with me: Did Y/N ask you for help to leave me?”

Bryce’s forehead was covered in a sheen of nervous sweat. His eyes darted nervously to Wanda who was standing nearby, watching the scene unfold curiously. She did not move to help, and he was forced to focus back on Steve knowing Natasha would not help him under any circumstance.

He licked his lips nervously and exhaled shakily. “Yes. But—”

He did not get to finish because Steve had taken a step back, cocked his arm back and socked him straight in the face, knocking him backward. Bryce yelped in agony, grasping at his nose as he laid on the ground, blood gushing from his broken nose. Steve unholstered his gun and Bryce saw, his eyes growing wide as saucers. His broken nose was quickly forgotten, holding up his hands in front of him as he pleaded for Steve to not do it, but his sniveling went unheeded. Steve unloaded half a round into his chest.

Steve’s hand shook now, and he lowered the gun slowly to his side. His eyes were absent of warmth, staring down at the man who he had entrusted his future wife and children’s safety to. Bryce’s eyes were still open in fear, blood trickling from his mouth as his head and arms slumped to the ground. His chest stopped moving in a matter of seconds, lying in a quickly forming puddle of red.

Rolling his shoulders back and cracking his neck, Steve replaced his gun, taking a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

“They could have gone anywhere,” he finally said tautly.

“Steve, I’m sorry,” Wanda offered, taking a few steps towards him.

“You weren’t in charge of watching her,” Steve responded, still not looking at the two women behind him.

The front door opened loudly down the hall and there were running steps, putting the trio on the defense quickly. Two of Steve’s security guards came into view, both out of breath. They both visibly relaxed seeing Steve still standing there, their eyes only flicking to Bryce’s body on the ground for a second. To their credit, they both did not blanch.

One offered, “Sorry for running in. We heard shots.”

Steve ignored her apology, beginning to walk. “Clean up the body and get rid of it. Now,” Steve ordered impatiently, moving past her.

“Where are you going?” Natasha asked, moving to follow him, Wanda in tandem.

“Back to the facility. It’s time to brainstorm and make a different plan,” Steve said over his shoulder.

<><><>

The cabin was two stories, an open floor plan on both floors. There was a wall shielding the top loft bedroom from view and a bedroom on the ground floor. Immediately, Natalie said the three of you could sleep upstairs since there was a queen bed and another twin bed. Yua pointed out that there was a back door right next to the other bedroom and you would be able to hear if someone came in there. Plus, people in horror movies always ran upstairs which ended in their demise. She stopped arguing when Natalie said there was a staircase from the upper deck outside the bedroom leading to the backyard.

“Wow, there are some CDs here,” Yua said flipping through a small case next to an entertainment center. “It’s like we are back in the 90s.”

“Hey, that entertainment console was top notch in the 90s. Don’t trash talk it,” Natalie joked.

“Gotta leave things people don’t want to steal since they use this as an air bnb,” you teased and Natalie pointed at you, acknowledging that.

Yua laughed, “They’re all burned CDs too. Oh, look. Top hits ’04. Oh, that’s past the 90s. Upgrading.” You chuckled as she pulled the CD out, opening the console. “Oh, my! And it’s a six disc! We could change albums whenever we want. Is there a remote? Oh, yes!” She chose five more random albums and put them in as well, closing it and choosing the original disc she had put in.

The first song started out and the three of you immediately made eye contact. “Oh my god. I have not heard this song in forever. A true lost Destiny’s Child gem,” Natalie said, unable to stop laughing. “Ooh, I put it right there, made it easy for you to get to…” she began to sing as she moved towards the kitchen to put the bags of food on the counter.

She had stopped at a mini mart near the bottom of the mountain to grab a good amount of food to hold you guys over. Yua and her had left you in the car to be able to cover the store quicker to leave as little time as possible staying stagnant in a parking lot. The whole time you had been on edge, pulling your hood as far down your face as you could while trying to keep a look out. Every car that drove by on the highway made the hairs on your arms stand up, praying it would not whip around and come back to you.

“If Mr. Brightside isn’t on this album, I’m going to be really disappointed. That was a true gem of my childhood,” Yua chimed in. She flopped onto the couch, stretching out. “Feels good to not be in the car. Hey, Nat, can you bring me one of my beers. Please?” She shot you an apologetic look. “Sorry, Y/N.”

“Just four more months,” you said lightly, touching your stomach as you sat down as well.

Yua reached over, caressing your stomach lightly. “Can’t you not drink while you’re breastfeeding too?”

“Don’t tell me that.”

“Sorry,” Yua snickered as Natalie came out of the kitchen holding a beer and a glass of wine.

She held it out to you, and you stared at her in bewilderment that she was offering you alcohol.

“It’s not rosé,” Natalie smiled. “It’s sparkling. A blush kind.”

“How nice of you,” you said, smiling in return. You took a small sip and said, “Hmm. It’ll do.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘thank you, Natalie’,” Natalie intoned, turning on her heel and walking back towards the kitchen.

“Thank you, Natalie,” you and Yua intoned back in unison.

“I’ll make dinner. What’s it gonna be? Frozen meal of mac and cheese or frozen meal of Salisbury steak?” Natalie asked, facing the two of you. “Or… there’s tater tots. Or pizza… and we could make a fruit salad on the side.”

“Thank god for the fruit,” Yua commented, grinning. “I say you make the pizza and fruit. Gotta pretend Y/N is still trying to be healthy somehow.”

Despite laughing, you did think of how Steve would react seeing you eating all this processed food, the same day you had cake no less. Touching your stomach again, you rubbed gently, thinking surely Steve was trying his damnedest to see you too.

~~~

Tags: @imsonick , @alexakeyloveloki, @kvzctam, @ironlady1993, @taintedgenre, @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @roxyfan14-blog